Special thanks to Iknowtoomuch for his/her review. I really didn't want to tell anything at all about Shep in this story, which is why he/she was barely mentioned (so far), to keep him/her ambiguous. Folks have been talking about other Archangel fanfics, and I started to read one, then stopped. Not because it was bad, but because it was awesome, and I didn't want to end up taking ideas. So if you want to suggest fics I should read after this is all done, I would love that. Remember! Every time you comment, an Archangel gets his wings. Enjoy!

"So when are you bringing that sister of yours around?"

Garrus let out a bark of humorless laughter, shaking his head. "Never. And you really need to stop asking."

Sidonis grinned faintly, his mandibles flexing. "So we go meet her somewhere off-world. Off-asteroid, rather."

"I'm not introducing you to my sister, Sidonis."

Sidonis rocked back on his heels, gripping the balcony railing as he let out a sigh, "There are hardly any turian women here." The pair of them had stepped outside onto one of the base's balconies. The view wasn't much; it only overlooked a garage, support beams, and a large dreary, featureless wall.

"Turian women are too smart to come here," Garrus murmured wryly. "At least that's what I tell myself when I cry myself to sleep each and every lonely night."

"And the ones that are here are ugly as hell."

"While I don't disagree with you, I feel the need to point out that this is not helping your case."

"She's gorgeous."

"I am aware."

"I'm not asking to marry her, just meet her."

Garrus turned his head, giving his friend a long look. When he spoke, he managed to disguise his annoyance with the calmest and kindest tone he could muster. "I know you're not. I know what you're after, and she can't supply it, Sidonis. You aren't ready for anything serious yet, and she isn't going to accept anything less."

The other turian's expression darkened instantly. He frowned and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with a clawed hand. "You know I was only teasing," he muttered. Everyone was on pins and needles. So much for lightening the mood.

Garrus scoffed, openly irritated now. "And maybe I'm sick of you teasing me about it. She doesn't-… It's something of a sensitive subject."

Sidonis snapped his gaze back to Garrus, eyes narrowed, voice a growl. "So is my wife. So back off."

Garrus rolled his eyes and stepped away from the balcony, shaking his head. "Fine. I've got enough shit on my plate without adding yours." Sidonis could turn on a dime from hardened turian military veteran to moody and pendulant teenager. Granted, finding the batarian tech in a huge pool of blood probably only served to agitate his often flimsy nerves. The guy was damaged, no question, and at the moment Garrus did not have the patience for it. Not with Vortash still being worked on by the hack Weaver hauled in. He paced back inside the base, hands clenched.

He found the rest of his team had gathered once again in the big room outside the barracks. His mouth opened to ask for an update when Monteague appeared in the doorway, tossing a pair of rubber gloves into the nearby bin. "You want the good news?" He asked it casually but with a hint of darkness, eyes finding Garrus.

There didn't seem to be any recognition in his gaze. Honestly, at this point, Garrus didn't care. "Crap. What is it?"

Monteague itched his neck idly, "You know that tattoo he had on his neck. Looked like the Blue Suns sign? Well, thanks to the bullet hole and the scar that's going to be left behind it's pretty much gone. Good news as he's probably not in the Blue Suns anymore. Seeing as you're Archangel," he motioned to Garrus with a hand, then dug into his pockets for his cigarettes.

God damn it. Even half drunk, the man was astute. "What's the bad news?"

"Bad news?" Monteague rocked back on his heels, looking at the ceiling a few moments in thought. "Bad news… Bad news is you still have two batarians on your team instead of one." The doctor shrugged, grinning crookedly. "I didn't even need to suture it that securely. Lucky for you, you had a vascular external mesh wrap in that kit of yours. Lucky for me, the package was labeled."

Erash looked like he was ready to drop to the floor with relief, but he was quick to regain his composure and bounded into the back room without a word of thanks or a backwards glance.

"So…" Garrus began slowly. "He's going to be all right?"

"Hell if I know. Prognoses were never something I covered in school. Long as they were still dead, our operations were considered a success. But your batarian, probably, yeah. He might need a few days to replace all that blood he lost, but the batarian circulatory system is a hell of a thing." He lit his cigarette on his omni-tool, and then inhaled deeply, pointing at Garrus with the burning tip. "But you. I know you. You're Garrus Vakarian."

Garrus closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. Greeeat. Just great.

"Wait. You're that Garrus?" he heard Melanis say incredulously.

When his eyes opened he saw Monteague watching him with a shit-eating grin, hands in the air. Weaver looked ready to strangle him as he held his pistol up at the doctor's head. "Aaand now you don't get to leave," Garrus said in a resigned tone, motioning to Butler, "Take his weapon."

Melanis was still beside himself in amazement. "You're the hero of the Citadel! You killed Saren Arterius! What the hell are you doing in this piss hole? I thought you were a Spectre now!"

"I'm not a Spectre!" Garrus growled at Melanis, snapping his attention back to Monteague who still wore that smug grin, cigarette held between his teeth, not budging as Butler relieved him of his pistol.

"Good. I didn't want to leave." Monteague shook his head a little, "I was pretty sure you were getting ready to kick my fat ass out of here after blindfolding me and driving me around the block a few times."

"What's your game, Monteague?"

Monteague took a deep inhale through the cigarette, and then flicked the tip of it with his tongue, letting the ashes drop mostly on his shirt. His hands remained in the air. "It's not obvious? I'm joining your cause."

"How many geth did you kill?"

"Shut up, Melanis. Join our cause?" Garrus continued to watch Monteague through narrowed eyes.

"Killing mercs. I've been trying to drink myself to death for four years now. It's taking longer than I thought it would. And it's not nearly as much fun as you'd think. Nah," Monteague shook his head a little. "They've given me four years of hell. It's only fair that I give them a little hell back."

Intense turian eyes remained on the human for a moment longer, before he motioned to Weaver to lower his weapon. "What happened?"

Monteague's lips curled in a frown, and he lowered his arms, glancing at Weaver. "They killed my wife." He turned his attention back to Garrus, "She was part of an archeological dig on Eletania. I still don't know what hell the Blue Suns wanted out there. Whatever it was, she died for it." He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, and then sucked on his cigarette, watching the turian closely.

Garrus glanced to Weaver. The human opened and closed his mouth a few times before shrugging, "He was Alliance. He's… changed a lot, b-but I guess I vouch for him."

The turian's gaze slid back to Monteague. He was wearing that grin again. "You realize you're forcing my hand."

"That was the intention," Monteague said through grinning teeth.

"You're going to need to clean up your act. If you show up to a job wasted I will jettison your naked ass over Tuchanka during thresher maw mating season, you hear me?"

"Aye aye, sir." Monteague saluted lazily.

"You did kill Saren, right? That didn't automatically make you a Spectre?"

"God damn it, Melanis, go find something constructive to do!"