Chapter 6

What happened on the Citadel had been horrible. Millions of innocent people had died at the hands of Saren and Sovereign, who had both paid the ultimate price for their actions. Everywhere they looked, they'd encountered blood and mangled corpses.

Garrus had served his mandatory time in the turian military, so he was no stranger to the violence they saw, but it had still made his stomach clench as he averted his eyes on more than one occasion from the gore presented to him. It had affected him deeply, and he his troubled dreams had disrupted his sleep every night in the week that had passed since the battle.

That feeling, that gut-wrenching illness and anxiety he'd had at the Citadel, was the only experience he'd had that he could compare to how he felt now. He was sharpening his pointed nails, a nervous-habit his father had scolded him for more than once, and he turned quickly and got back on the elevator.

"NO," he growled at himself, cursing silently. "Be a man. Take responsibility for your actions."

With great effort, he once again stepped off the elevator and raised a curled fist to give the door before him two solid raps. Well, there was no backing out of it now. He held his breath unintentionally as his stomach churned again a the sound of footsteps inside the room. Then the door opened.

She stared up at him with squinted eyes from the darkness of her cabin. Her red hair was mussed, and she smelled like a tavern.

"Whaddo you want?" she grumbled with a gravelly voice.

"Uh, hi, Shepard. I wanted to talk to you ab- are you drunk?"

She shrugged. "Does it matter? Get to the point."

"Right. Okay." He took a deep breath. "Shepard, I don't think we should see each other. I'm going back to the Citadel to get my old job with C-Sec back. It's nothing personal, I'm just not interested in a relationship. I know we talked about that already, right before we... um... but I wanted to clarify again just to avoid any confusion or unresolved feelings about what happened between us."

She was staring at him with an expression of total disbelief, and his heart pounded even harder. So this is how he'd die, throttled by a bite-sized human. His throat was dry.

"Shepard, say something..."

Her mouth twitched to the side and she abruptly burst out laughing. He watched her in horror as she tried to choke down her hysterics. He'd been prepared for a number of reactions from her, but this was not one.

She wiped a tear from her eye as she straightened up, a smirk still present on her face. "Get real, Bird."

The door slammed in his open-mouthed face.

It only took a week of working at C-Sec to make Garrus remember how powerless he'd felt before. Every case was swimming in regulations and red tape, and he spent most of his time, once again, behind a desk. Six months after being reinstated, he handed in his resignation to an annoyed but not surprised Executor Pallin.

That was the same night he saw the news report covering the attack on the Normandy that left half the crew dead or missing. He sat up straight and stared as Jeff "Joker" Moroe looked at the ground, saying some nice things about the deceased, in a voice choked by sorrow. Garrus watched from his couch as the montage of faces flashed across the screen in honor of the lost members. His body went still at the sight of her red hair. Missing, it said. Not dead. But even Shepard couldn't survive the vacuum of space. He shrugged it off quickly. They hadn't been close. He felt little more than surprise at the announcement of her probable death, but the loss of so many people he'd known and lived with for months weighed heavily on him. He wasn't sure if he should take the wreck as a sign to crawl back to C-Sec, or an indication that he had done the right thing by leaving; regardless, he wasn't going back.

For another few months he lived off his savings, but he was growing restless doing nothing. He wanted to fight for something, to make a difference he could see in the world, but the Citadel was not a place of justice. It was a place of order, where his disregard for the rules did not belong. He needed to go somewhere less structured, without regulations, where he could do things his way. Somewhere like Omega.

He squinted his sunken eyes closed for a moment as he drank deeply from his canteen. He'd been here for hours holding them off, but the images of his dead team swarmed past his eyes. Abruptly, he opened them as he spun around and stood, aiming the rifle above his cover at the new wave of approaching mercs, imagining the face of Sidonis on each of them. A few shots later with very limited return fire, and they had all collapsed. Even despite the total incompetence of the disposable new-hires the three mercenary bands were practically lining up for him, Garrus couldn't hold this position forever. He was already starting to get tired, and he hadn't eaten anything yet today. His hands were starting to shake, and his accuracy was down by at least ten percent since he'd holed up in the loft of his hideout.

So this is how it would end for him. He'd start missing targets at first, then a few would finally make it past the bridge, to the stairs that compromised his line of sight. He'd shoot them down with his assault rifle as they broke into the room he was perched in, but even as they died, more would pour across the bridge, rushing him, until they littered him with bullets and he got the chance to see his team again, to apologize for being so careless with the merc gangs and for trusting Sidonis.

Or maybe he wouldn't even make it that long. Maybe he'd become unfocused and forget to duck, or skim over a vorcha who happened to get a lucky shot in while his attention was devoted to a less threatening target. It would take his shields down, and then they'd all throw themselves from cover to fire on him, and his reaction time would be too slow for him to respond in any way other than bleeding to death.

He was starting to doubt himself, and when the glint of red crossed through his vision, he had to duck behind cover again to rub his tired eyes. Of all things, he was hallucinating now. He hadn't realized he'd been that tired. Maybe he ought to end it himself, on his own terms, rather than let the hired scum take him out. He chuckled weakly, imagining the look on Jaroth's face upon hearing that Archangel had bested him one last time. But turians were raised to be honorable, and as bad a turian as he was, he wasn't about to hand over any sort of bitter victory to his opponents. Scowling and damning his culture, he flung the barrel of his sniper over cover again and focused on the new arrivals.

Shepard, of course, as he'd already been hallucinating... but then two other humans he didn't recall seeing before. His frown deepened. It didn't make any sense to hallucinate two strange humans. And if he was going crazy, why not spend his last moments with his family instead? Or the dead comrades he would never live to avenge? His beam wavered over her as she mowed down the very mercs he'd been shooting, with minimal help from her companions. Abruptly, before he could think about it, his aim lowered and he pulled the trigger.

Shepard stumbled back, surprise written on her features, as the concussive round hit her squarely in the shoulder. She glowered up at his position and fired a warning shot two feet to his left that might have scared someone less accustomed to her methods as him. He gave a startled laugh, letting his gun slack for a moment as he watched her refocus her attention on the mercs, kicking a batarian in the chest and punching him with a glowing fist that sent him flying back several paces into the wall, where he slumped, unconscious.

They began to ascend the stairs, and he tightened his grip on the rifle again, dropping the few idiots that thought it would be a good idea to follow after Archangel's reinforcements. His mouth tilted in a tight smile at the thought of the word 'reinforcements;' maybe he'd make it out after all. With Shepard involved, anything was possible.

They burst into the room as the last of his enemies ducked behind cover. From his peripheral vision he saw her take off her visor, crimson waves swinging wildly around her shoulders as her sidekicks stood behind her like soldiers at attention.

"Archangel."

The cold word wasn't a question, but an accusation. He repressed a grin at the sound of the anger in her voice, glad she couldn't see his expression beneath the mask of his helmet. Maybe it was the relief he felt at the hope her presence gave him, or maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he felt almost giddy. He held up one finger for her to wait, still determined to hit that last vorcha, and drew back his finger on the sniper rifle as the stupid thing peered out from behind the shelter where it crouched.

Now satisfied, he stood, stretching his sore muscles, as his former commander gave him a look that meant to strip him to the bones. Clearly that concussive round had pissed her off. Taking a deep breath and trying again not to laugh, he slid off his helmet, lounging on a nearby crate. She stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror, before turning to the black-haired woman at her side.

"Did you know - that?" she demanded, flinging an accusing digit in Garrus' direction.

The woman shook her head negative, confusion written on her pale features, and Shepard let out a sharp breath as she threw the datapad from its secure strap on her hip to the floor.

"I'm out. This is a deal-breaker. Fuck you, Cerberus."

"Don't you want to pick up where we left off?" he called after her retreating form and she froze, tense.

Her head turned slowly to look at him. "If I recall, the last time I saw your pathetic ass was outside my cabin as you tried out high-school breakup lines on me."

"But darling, I want you back."

This time he couldn't contain the laughter. It was soft, but it was enough to cause her to grit her teeth as she turned back to him and strode quickly across the room, snatching the rifle from his loosened grip and flipping it to point at the top of his skull.

"Give me a reason, Bird," she growled, satisfaction evident in her voice as he calmly returned her gaze.

"Shepard!"

The woman clad in white stormed over to her and swatted the rifle downward. Garrus' brow plates raised, impressed. She was, as humans liked to say, either brave or stupid.

"The Illusive Man clearly stated that we need his expertise. I don't know what history there is between you two, but isn't it worth working past a failed relationship to save the human race?"

Shepard stared at the woman in disgust as Garrus snickered quietly.

"Miranda, shut up. We were never involved. I'll find another sniper, and his talents will not be missed."

"There's a reason the Illusive Man wanted him," Miranda pointed out. "He's the best we've seen in a long time. Maybe ever."

Shepard cast a dubious glance at the turian, who shrugged immodestly in response.

"Doubtful," she replied dismissively. "He's under-practiced and easily distracted."

"Shepard, obviously it's been at least two years since you saw him. I don't know what you saw while we were down there -" she gestured to the bridge, "- but almost every shot hit between the eyes. I've never seen anything like it."

"It's true, Commander," her other companion, who had been silent until now, confirmed. "He might have you beaten."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at the man. "Careful, Jacob," she warned him.

"Hostiles approaching," Garrus interjected, dropping behind cover. "Let's resolve this little argument later."

(A/N): I'm sorry. I can't believe it's been over three months since I last posted. School has been crazy. Hopefully I still have a few readers who don't hate me.