AUTHOR'S NOTE:Just gonna formally apologize for this chapter now. You'll find out why.

Garrus spent the remainder of his day as far away from that damn council building as possible. He didn't care about whatever big shot politician had arrived. He'd heard them cheering, all those people. It made him sick. Politicians were nothing but glorified liars. They didn't come here to help people. They came here to help themselves. They rose to the top on the backs of refugees and orphans and Garrus was sick of it. Things were supposed to be different. Not even a year ago, the galaxy had united to defeat a common enemy…But now that the Reapers were gone, the only thing people wanted to fight for were themselves.

The dream of a permanently unified populace died with Commander Shepard. Garrus was a fool for believing otherwise. He realized that now. Idealism was just one of his many faults. Caring too much about things he had no chance of changing was another. That didn't mean he was going to stop trying, however. These kids needed him and, in a way, he needed them. They represented the future, reminded him that, one day, he'd move on. He'd move on from Reapers and Archangel and…maybe even Shepard.

Garrus reached into his armor and pulled out the dog tags. There was no Shepard without Vakarian. Could there be a Vakarian without Shepard? She'd taught him so many things, was there for him when no one else was. She loved him. And he loved her. He loved her so much it hurt. It hurt to think about her, it hurt to remember her, it hurt to want her…Everything about her hurt him. He just had to be that guy who resisted the constraints of his menial job, who ran off with a human commander on a ridiculous suicide mission, who accidentally fell in love with her through no fault of his own…

He just had to be that guy.

He tucked the tags away. There was no point in dwelling in the past. Shepard was dead. Really dead. Moping about her loss wasn't going to bring her back. Loving her wasn't going to bring her back. She was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Garrus leaned back in his chair, staring up at Earth's night sky. It was beautiful here. Not nearly as warm as he would have liked it to be, but beautiful all the same. Stars scattered the black expanse like a mess of diamonds. The moon was suspended high above the horizon, a shining silver disc glowing down from the vast environs of space. The chilly autumnal wind brushed his skin and made him shiver. Winter would be arriving soon. He didn't have a tight grasp on Earth's seasons, but from what he'd heard, winter wasn't good. Especially now that shelter was scarce. Kids would be dying. And he'd have to be prepared for it.

Garrus saw everything from his makeshift "watchtower." The Hub had been closed up for the night and the younger children were asleep. The kids who had to sleep outside were safe in their tents or snug in their blankets. The perimeter was quiet. Maybe he'd be able to get some rest after all.

"Garrus!"

Damn. Spoke too soon.

The turian reluctantly opened his eyes, his visor flickering feebly. The music he synced to it had faded and the data feeds were running out. His muscles ached. He wanted to sleep.

"Gaaaarruuuussss!"

He leaned forward, groaning quietly. "What?"

Standing on the ground at the bottom of the watchtower was none other than Johanna. She'd been having trouble sleeping lately and Garrus suffered every side effect of her insomnia. In typical Johanna fashion, she began climbing up the ladder without his permission. Telling her not to do something was like telling Shepard not to do something. It only made her want to do it more. It would have been charming if it wasn't so damn inconvenient.

"Garrus!" Johanna huffed, pulling herself up onto the platform. "I've—I've got to tell you something!"

"You'd better get to telling, then." He muttered.

"Alyssa and I were watching that new vid about the Reapers on her mom's old datapad and when we got to the part where—"

Garrus held up a hand. "Whoa, now, Holt. Don't spoil the entire thing for me. I haven't—"

Johanna scowled. "This is serious! Anyway, Alyssa and I were watching the vid and when the Reapers swooped down, we heard a noise."

"A noise?" He gasped. "On a vid? I can't believe it. No way."

"Garrus!" Johanna gave him a smack on the shoulder. "We heard a noise! A scary noise! And you know how those one guys were trying to steal all our stuff when you first got here? And you got really mad and shot them? It sounded like that. We thought we heard voices."

Yeah, he remembered. It wasn't exactly his finest moment, killing a half a dozen looters in front of a crowd of young kids…But if he hadn't done anything, those kids would have lost tons of valuable resources. Judging by Johanna's rapid fire explanation, the same thing might've been happening again. It was definitely worth an investigation.

"Alright, I'll check it out."

Once he'd seen Johanna safely back to bed, Garrus began his sweep of the facility. He worked his way around the Hub, rifle in hand, stepping quietly so that he didn't wake any of the building's patrons. He weaved through the rows of tents behind it and came full circle to his watchtower. Nothing. No voices, no noises…Just another chilly night on Earth.

Maybe Johanna was simply hearing things. She was a hyperactive kid. It would make sense for her imagination to be equally as wild. Still, It was better to be safe than sorry, so Garrus began another sweep of the camp. He patrolled the farthest edges of the compound, where the ruins ended and the reconstruction started.

Garrus always thought it was a little cruel to set up a damn orphanage directly in the shadow of some big, tall, rebuilt tower. It's like the local government wanted to remind these kids of everything they'd lost. It's like it wanted to shove its privilege in everyones' faces. For all the despicable things that council building harbored, a gang of looters wasn't one of them. The place was deathly still. The flurry of activity from this afternoon was long gone.

"Johanna really has to stop watching those scary vids before she goes to sleep." Garrus murmured as he headed back toward his tower. He was crossing the field that separated the council building from the orphanage when shots rang out, piercing the silence with their loud pops! Garrus ducked behind an old supply crate and peeked around the corner. He guessed Johanna was right after all.

He lifted his rifle's scope to his eye, looking for the gun toting culprits.

Even with the full moon, the dark made it hard to see. Yet there was no mistaking the figure that seemed to be walking toward him. It moved across the shadowy horizon in a broken sort of shuffle. It reminded him of the husks he'd seen when the Reapers were still around. A badly wounded looter, perhaps?

Good, he thought viciously. Easier to drop.

His trigger finger itched. He was Garrus Vakarian. He could make this shot, darkness be damned. He could kill the bastard, dispose of the body, and be done with it in time to get a few hours' sleep. It was a solid plan, sure…But the noise would no doubt wake the kids and the last thing he needed was a bunch of panicked ten year olds asking him what happened. Stealth was the better option.

"Shame Krios isn't here," Garrus whispered to himself, an image of the empty eyed drell forming in his mind. "He could do this for me."

But Thane wasn't there. Thane was dead. Like Shepard. He didn't have a squad to back him up. Garrus had only himself. He could do this. All he had to do was wait until the looter got close enough, grab them, and snap their neck. Easy enough. It wasn't a perfectly timed shot to the head, but it was something. And it wouldn't scare the kids.

He spared another glance around the crate. The mysterious figure was meandering right toward him. What an idiot. This was Omega all over again. He wasn't even going to have to try to kill this looter.

Garrus sank into a crouch. Closer and closer the looter came, hobbling forward like a husk on ryncol. Spirits, this poor soul was pathetic. A little bit more, now. Garrus thought. Just a few more steps and I'll finally get some sleep.

Garrus held off until he could see the tips of the looter's boots. That was when he made his move. His hands shot out, grabbing the looter by the leg and yanking them down hard to the ground. The looter grunted, flailing helplessly as Garrus dragged them behind the crate. They didn't stay helpless for long, however, and lashed out at him with their fists. They connected with his face on their first punch, a biotically enhanced hit that sent Garrus staggering back on his ass. His visor cracked and his vision blurred.

He could only just make out the looter's slim figure as they—she—stood up. Her biotics bloomed around her in a bright static. She looked like…a goddess…a really, really pissed off goddess. Damn, Garrus thought dizzily. He felt himself begin to slip away. Whoever this was really knocked him good. I should have taken the kill shot.

The woman limped toward him, her fists crackling at her sides. She crouched down and the biotics in her left hand fizzled as she reached out to touch his face. His scars. Garrus slumped against the crate. The woman was a blur on his subconsciousness. A beautiful, angry blur. Her skin was soft, so soft. Almost like…

"Shepard…" Garrus breathed. The realization came too late. He didn't even have time to enjoy it. He was dying, obviously. And, as it turned out, turian heaven was a lot like human heaven. Shepard was waiting for him. She wasn't at the bar. She was guiding him to it.