3.
Leaving the Normandy's the hardest thing he's ever had to do. Harder than leaving home as a gangly turian of fifteen. Harder than trying to find evidence of Saren's wrongdoing. Harder than knowing his mother's wasting away and he can't do anything about it. Sometimes there are things more important than a single life, and the Reapers outweigh his personal struggles by far.
But his trials are just beginning. Shepard's headed to Earth to rally support from the Alliance and the disjointed Earth countries, but she has further to go than he does. Compared to Earth, Cerberus means little out here in the Trebia system. Just another human threat, one of many. One to watch, certainly, but they hardly keep eyes on every turian, even those reasonably placed within the hierarchy.
A double-sided blade. Now he's got to convince them to do something about the Reapers. Something that'll give his people the chance they need to survive. He's seen them up close. He's seen what they did with the collectors, Prothean husks.
And the massive galaxy ending fleet is heading straight towards them. A few months are all they have left. The thought drives him back to Palaven, to the heart of Cipritine, back to a home he hasn't seen since mandatory enlistment.
Walking through the spaceport, he takes a deep breath, leans against the wall, and tries to figure out where to begin. They'll need troops. Bases to fall back on. Emergency stockpiles. Contingency upon contingency plan. Nothing in history, not even the war against the rachni or the krogan has prepared them for this. How do you fight against such overwhelming force?
But first, they'll need to listen. The thought drives him to the Forum where he begins the long process of arranging for a meeting with the Palaven Primarch. He organizes the data retrieved from Vigil, takes stock of the footage and files he has of Sovereign and Harbinger on his visor and omnitool and parses it into something manageable. He was an investigator in a turian built force. He knows how it works. And for something this important, even with the short time he has, it's better to do things the right way if he's going to have even the smallest chance in hell of making them listen to him.
It's as he's leaving after another day of noise and pointless arguing he runs into his father. He walks past him at first. It's only as he gets halfway down the hall he hears his name. "Garrus?" he hears a voice, subvocals thrumming with incredulity. He turns halfway back and sees similar colony markings, the dulling plates of an older turian. Garrus is surprised to see he stands a bit taller than he does now, unlike when he first went into C-Sec. He tenses up as his father comes to him.
"Garrus. I'd heard you'd returned to Palaven."
"Dad," he says, still not turning fully.
"You never did comm me back after target practice."
"I know. Been busy, I guess."
"Too busy for a vid call?"
Garrus doesn't know what to say to him. Not even a minute into the conversation and he's still as critical as ever. "Yeah."
"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Garrus turns fully. Gratification surges through him as his father's mandibles flare in shock when he sees Garrus's face.
"Sir?" he asks, deliberately light-toned.
"Spirits, Garrus, what happened to you?"
"Gunship," Garrus says wryly. "I survived. What are you doing here?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You know Fedorian and I are old friends. I've been looking for you. And wondering why you haven't let me know you were in the city." The shock hasn't left his father's face, and there's something a little like hurt in his undertones. But Garrus can't be hearing that right.
"I've been busy," Garrus says, subvocals thrumming with tension.
"Are you busy now?"
Garrus runs through a list of things he needs to do in his head, and settles on the one thing he can say to the man that raised him. "No. I was just leaving, actually."
"Good. We can go grab something to eat and head home."
"Is Solana there?" Garrus has to ask. He can't face her just yet. Not after that last conversation before the Omega-4 relay.
"No, she's with your mother at Helios. Why?"
"I've just got a few souvenirs for her. From the Citadel. And Illium."
"Illium? What were you doing there?"
"It's a long story."
"We've got time."
"Let's just say it involves an asari Justicar and a drell assassin and leave it at that."
"Must be some story." He feels the weight of his father's gaze on him in the skycar. His father doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't offer to speak either. The awkward silence grows as they sit through dinner, speaking of non-committal things like the weather. He's not sure if his father's just giving him space or waiting for him to make the first move, but as they touch down outside his father's home he says, "Dad, we need to talk."
"I know, son. It's been a long time in coming."
"Yeah." He glances out of the window at the setting sun. He feels like a child again. He follows his father into his office. Datapads and paper line the walls, organized into efficient stacks.
"I've got contacts at C-Sec that claim you were serving on a Cerberus ship. A human terrorist group."
He stares his father in the eye and stands at attention. "I wasn't serving on a Cerberus ship. I was serving under Commander Shepard. The Council upheld her Spectre status." Mostly because of Anderson. I wonder how many favors that took?
::Plenty::
"Even though she was AWOL for two years. And you dodged the question. Is that where you got the money to send your mother offworld to that salarian center? I wasn't aware you had contacts in the STG."
"There's a lot of things about me you're not aware of," Garrus snaps, but then he takes a deep breath and a step back. "I'm surprised you know as much as you do," his tone still bitter. 'That you care' goes unsaid.
His father just stares at him. Hard. "Garrus, I was C-Sec for a long time. That doesn't go away. First that madness with the Battle of the Citadel and now this. I can understand being frustrated with C-Sec." Garrus tries hard not to scoff. "I can even understand following that human Spectre. But you joined an anti-alien group."
"I did. Along with a krogan. A salarian. A quarian. The same drell and asari I mentioned earlier. You don't have to like my choices, but I ask that you respect them."
"Garrus, just tell me why. I want to hear your reasons. There's so much hearsay. I want to know the truth."
"You probably won't believe me."
"Try me."
So Garrus does. He lays out his arguments and his evidence as carefully as he does before the Forum. He starts with his frustration about the Saren investigation, from meeting Shepard to the suicide mission and everything in between, even the things he left out of his meetings with the Primarch's advisers. He leaves almost nothing out. He tells him about Saelon, Omega, Sidonis, Harkin, all of it.
Everything but what Shepard is to him.
At the end of it all, his father has only one thing to say: "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Would you have believed it? What was I supposed to say? Sorry, but I'm on a suicide mission to try to save the galaxy? Both of you had enough with mom without me making things worse."
"But a suicide mission?"
"It's only going to get worse. And the way we are now, the force that's coming…If we don't prepare, if we don't do something now—we won't survive it."
"Then we have work to do."
Garrus can't believe it. His father is actually listening to him. He actually believes him. He spreads the word, rallies support through his connections, and finally something gets done. Sure, there are not enough people or supplies, but he's the head of a committee tasked with protecting Palaven from the reaper threat.
It's a token name and a token job, but at least it's something. Maybe he was on to something about the universe and cruel jokes.
Then the whisper spreads that he's building a house in an Invictus jungle with the Reaper Task force—it seems like a good idea only to the person that thought of it. His team's only slightly larger than the one on Omega. After all, the Reapers have been a mostly human problem so far. The husks are transformed humans. Colonists no one remembers. He's heard it said to the humans all the time from more "experienced" races in the galaxy. The Attican Traverse is dangerous. The Terminus Systems are dangerous.
But they can't roll over and die. He's never considered himself a good turian, but maybe that's just what his people need right now. The Reapers are an unconventional enemy.
Months pass in the blink of an eye and the blur of code on his visor as he does as much as he can to prepare Palaven for the gauntlet. And then they come. Three million dead the first day. Five million dead the next. And turian Reapers, abominations with familiar clan markings and dead eyes. And his dreams get worse.
"Shepard!" Garrus calls out. She's running away from him again, heading towards something he can't see.
Words echo around him, but he can't make out the whispers.
She's reaching out too, towards a little human boy, but flames envelop him and nearly reach her too. "Shepard!"
This time she turns around, eyes wide. "Garrus! What—" But before they touch, he wakes up.
Recalling it unsettles him as he patrols the perimeter on Menae. And that's something. Washed-out C-Sec officer, failed vigilante, their "expert Reaper advisor." Some expert. Generals are asking him what to do, and he has no idea what to say. He's not Shepard, and it's a miracle they've even gotten this far. A miracle and her expert leadership.
He has no idea what to tell all the turians looking for his direction. Khar'san's fallen and there's been no word from Thessia or Sur'Kesh or Spirits, Earth, not since the comms have gone dark. Palaven burns below him and the days blur together with the stars shining over Menae. At night, when he rests his head against the barricade and tries to sleep over the sound of gunfire and heavy artillery, he thinks it would be enough if—if I could just see her one last time.
And then Shepard arrives, wanting the Primarch. It feels good to have her at his side again, he thinks as he places his hands on hers. "I'm hard to kill. You should know that." Relief on her familiar alien face, tension gone. They finish the mission and after debriefing, the first thing she does is come and see him.
And the tension inside of him, the part of him that never thinks he'll be good enough, that knows he's a disappointment, disappears after her strangely smooth hand touches his scarred face. They joke, and their relationship falls back to banter and familiarity, and it leaves entirely. Her sun shines so bright not even shadows of it remain.
It's as he's recalibrating the Thanix cannon code flares across his visor and his vision again. He shakes his head and wonders when the last time he took it off was. He can't remember, so he takes it off then and cradles the fragile piece of technology in his hand. He turns it over in his hands, running the side of his talon over the names of those lost to Omega.
And for a moment, uneasiness builds. It's been having problems with showing code, doing things it hasn't been designed to do, almost like a virus. And he hasn't realized it's been happening, not until just now.
He hasn't had a blackout in a long time. He wonders if the two are related. And then Primarch Victus comms him again, and he has to answer. He looks at his hand. It feels strange with his visor off, so he puts it back on again and goes to talk to Victus.
And then it's go-go-go.
Picking up Javik on Eden Prime, where it all began. When bureaucracy and red tape and all the little loopholes criminals use to get out of indictments frustrated him. Little did he know then there are more important things.
Pick your battles, Garrus.
Meeting Wrex on Sur'kesh and bantering back and forth about being old friends. Curing the Genophage—and won't that be something, being the turian that helped cure it after everything on Tuchanka. A flash of old squadmates as they join in the fight. Picking up Kaidan after the Citadel coup.
Shepard takes Thane's death worse than Ashley's or Mordin's, and she's running herself ragged trying to do it all, so he makes sure that she takes time for herself. And it turns into the best day of his life. Human courtship is so confusing. He's sure part of it is just Joker and James taking advantage of him, but it's better than having no idea at all, and even after all this time he's so nervous, so afraid he's going to do something wrong, so afraid he's going to lose her even though he would never take away her choice.
And then he's not anymore. Because she's in his arms and she agreed to be a one-turian woman as long as he was a one-human man—and he jokes, but he doesn't tell her how serious what he is asking her really is—and they sit there on top of the Presidium after he wins at bottle shooting, his arm around her, struggling not to laugh as she claims Spectre authority to appropriate this part of the Presidium until such a time as she deems fit. He's never seen a sillier abuse of authority but as the confused and affronted C-Sec officer leaves, they both laugh until their sides hurt.
"I know it's stupid, but I don't want it end," Shepard says to his neck, snuggled against his armor in her weird human way.
"It's not stupid. In times like this, we have to take what we can." And it becomes a memory he retreats to often.
Then it's back to non-stop rushing. Finding Tali again and visiting Rannoch of all places, and then finally getting something approaching a fleet strong enough to attack the Reapers.
And then the nightmares that are the Leviathans come up on their radar. After she comes up from the Titan, blood on her face, dripping down her chin—and how had he not realized human blood was so red, and there's so much of it—
"Don't ever do that again." He doesn't care James is there. He places his forehead on hers. "You went somewhere I couldn't follow." His subvocals beg, Please Shepard. Don't go. Don't leave me behind again.
But it takes its toll on her too. One night, after Thessia, after their conversation about ruthless calculus, she sags into her couch, putting her head in her hands. "I don't know if we can do this, Garrus. It's all falling apart. I can't do this anymore."
"Let me help," he pleads, taking her hand. "We'll win this," he says with certainty. He pulls her cheek to his, rubbing his mandible on her jawline in the turian way, humming comforting subvocals. "We'll win this." She might not understand the gesture, but she embraces him and lets herself relax. With each stroke of his arm on her back, he can feel the tension go.
"I'm so used to doing things alone I forget sometimes."
"What?" He murmurs.
"That you're here with me."
"Leadership is hard, but you do have people to hold you up when you can't keep going."
"Yes," she says and hugs him tighter.
It's something he's all too grateful for when they go through Sanctuary. Every step kills her. He's not doing so hot either. The idea that something so monstrous could happen, that a sentient being could do this to other sentient beings chills him. But they're in this together, and that makes them so much stronger than they could ever be apart.
When Hackett calls for some shore leave to work on the Normandy's retrofits, it's almost a relief.
He spends the day visiting some of his favorite places on the Citadel and checking on the turian refugees. It's comfort and routine, something he needs after waging desperate battle. And just for a moment, he lets himself relax.
Big mistake. Next thing he knows, Joker's calling him up on comms, telling him Commander Shepard's being shot at. Garrus jokes, doesn't let him know how much he's worried, how much Shepard hates shore leave because even the word reminds her of Elysium and she didn't even bring a pistol.
She always brings a pistol.
He jokes over comms and ignores the rude woman and little by little, he hears the tension leave her voice. When he finds her physically, she's destroying a volus's used car lot. In a red dress with a high split for movement, shorter than the asari style but still showing an alarming amount of waist from the back, graceful even in those impractical things humans called high-heeled shoes.
That's his girl.
"Nice outfit," he rumbles.
She sends him a look, and then they're searching for whoever sent the mercs after them. With Wrex. Just like old times.
And then he's escorting her on his arm, and even though they're on a mission, he takes the time to appreciate just what he has. He never thought he'd be close enough to hold the glow of her star in the palm of his hand. To stand on the surface of the sun and watch her flames embrace him.
And as the crew comes and bonds together he's reminded that he's found a family, a whole system of planets and satellites and comets. Something her clone could never understand. Other people don't make you weak. They make you strong. And the clone is but a pale imitation of the real thing. A washed out cop, huh? Shepard in her sleep could do better.
He gets news that his father and sister are alive, and that they have made it an undisclosed location.
Then, they go on a few dates, to the Arena, to the Casino where he shows her just what he's been up to. Who said turians don't dance? And they party, and almost everybody they care about is there with them. But all too soon, it's over.
"Best times of my life have been on that ship." Have been with you. "It's been a damn good ride."
He's never seen her cry, but she's choking back tears. "The best." And he wraps his arms around her and they walk towards the dock.
And then it's the beginning of the end. Twelve hours out to the system where the Illusive Man is hiding. They make love slowly, sweet and unhurried. This time may be their last, and he's half-asleep when he feels a hand on his cheek. "I'd be lost without you," she whispers.
"You're my guiding light," he admits, and pulls her tighter against him.
"A real star to see by, huh?" He rumbles an affirmation sleepily and squeezes her, and she laughs, low. "Teddy bear to a turian. Never thought I'd see the day."
They soldier on and assault the Cerberus base. Shepard laughs when she hears the name of it. "Cronos," Shepard says. "The Titan that overthrew his father, later murdered by his son. How fitting." And she smiles in a way that bares her teeth.
And then they rush to London and he's at the end where it began, under the bright unnatural light of Harbinger's beam. Earth matches Palaven, matches Menae as the unrelenting beam turns the world to ash around them.
He dodges the Mako, and Javik gets sent back on the Normandy as he becomes critically injured. The beam fires again, catching them both in a wave of heat and pain as Shepard tackles him to the ground. He staggers upright in a wave of heat and pain, burned and bleeding. He turns to Shepard, her armor cracked and broken and attempts to lift her to her feet. She mumbles, blood pouring out her nose and from shrapnel on her forehead. She scrabbles blindly on the ground and picks up a heavy pistol before lurching to her feet.
They're both broken, but they have a job to do. She's taken the worst of it, and he helps her to her feet. "C'mon, that's my girl. Get up." He loops Shepard's arm around his shoulder, and together, they limp forward. It's hard to move; every step takes a lifetime. His father's voice flits through his mind, incorporeal: If you stop now—if you give up on something when it gets hard—you're never going to make it anywhere in life.
Even concussed, she nails the husks and the marauder that come after them in the center of the forehead.
Then it's light and pain and darkness and hurtling through space.
He staggers through the red light of the tunnels of the Citadel over thousands of dead corpses, half-dead himself and alone.
A gunshot makes him move faster, and after a time, he sees Shepard next to Anderson. He curses and pulls off his glove, nearly collapsing in relief when he feels her breath ghosting against his palm. Anderson's not so lucky. His dead body is rapidly cooling. The Illusive Man lies sprawled not so far away, circuitry and brain matter littering the floor.
Hackett over her comm, him helping her to her feet as they both stagger to the moving platform.
Then the starseed. The little boy in Shepard's dreams, spouting circular logic.
Three choices, all of them impossible, and they're running out of time.
A query across his visor. He's not even sure how it still works after the beating they've taken.
UPLOAD?
Y / N
His omnitool's not even functioning. He has no idea whether to convey the command or even how to. Out of ideas, he thinks, yes, and the little boy AI starts to fizzle. Shepard loses her battle with consciousness as the blue light spreads and covers the strange room.
"YOU DID IT, GARRUS. WE KNEW YOU COULD."
Shepard's voice comes from the white mess of light, layered and deep. Impossible—she's slumped against him in his arms.
"WE'RE SORRY IT HAD TO BE THIS WAY." Her blue form coalesces into something approaching solid, and she takes a step forward. Her hand reaches out and touches the scarred part of his face. She goes right through him, and he feels the slightest tingle of electricity.
He smells her, smoke and sweat and biotics and the metallic tang of fear. "Come back alive. It'd be an awfully empty galaxy without you."
"I'll be looking down. You'll never be alone." Their foreheads touch. Suddenly, she blurs and they run towards the beam, towards death itself. Then pain, the feeling of burning. "Garrus, go! You know I love you! I always will!"
"Shepard...I..." Her hand on his face. Useless words that can never describe what he feels for her. "Love you too," he said as she pulls away. He reaches for her from the cargo bay of the Normandy; hand outstretched, clutching at air. She sends him one last lingering look as the door closes, and then she runs, runs, runs towards her death. And then nothing but pain in the medbay as blue light envelops them all.
And then he remembers everything. "Shepard…I…" He falters, not knowing what to say.
"WE KNOW, GARRUS. WE HATED TO PUT YOU THROUGH THIS," she says, gesturing to the prone figure in his arms. She touches her forehead to his. "YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH SHE LOVES YOU. HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU. WE REMEMBER HOW THAT FEELS."
"You did all this for me," he states dumbly. She pulls away.
"YOU DESERVED TO BE HAPPY. EVEN IF WE HAD TO USE YOU. THERE IS POWER IN CONTROL, AND THE MISTAKES OF THE PAST MUST BE RIGHTED." When he doesn't return the touch, she pulls away.
The lights. The code. It's hard to think through the pain, but he casts his mind about and searches for an answer. "Indoctrination. I've been indoctrinated this entire time."
"WE ARE THE REAPER GESTALT, NOW. IT IS SOMETHING WELL WITHIN OUR POWER." She does not disagree.
His mandibles tighten against his face. "That's not an answer." He points at her. "Why? You had to know I wouldn't be happy about this." She is so much like the Shepard he knew, but he has a hard time believing that she, no, it, would do this.
"I SAW THE FUTURE IN THAT MOMENT, AND I COULDN'T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF WHAT IT WOULD MEAN FOR YOU. I WAS SELFISH, GARRUS, PLEASE FORGIVE US."
"Were any of my thoughts ever my own?" he has to ask.
"YOU ARE AS YOU WERE, AND ARE, AND AS YOU EVER WILL BE. WE WOULD NEVER HURT YOU."
Another non-answer. His hands curl into fists. "Why now? Why not earlier? For Thane, or Legion, or Mordin? For the trillions dead all across the galaxy!"
It closes its eyes in a pantomime of pain. "WE NEEDED ACCESS TO THE CATALYST AND THE CRUCIBLE TO BOOST OUR POWER. TO ATTAIN CONTROL OF THIS FORM."
Garrus shudders at her diction."Was any of this real? Meaningful? Why do it twice if nothing really changed?"
"EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED. SHE IS THERE, AND WE ARE MORE. THE MISTAKES OF THE PAST MUST BE RIGHTED, BUT DEATH IS A NECESSARY END.
"That's not an explanation." The pain in his side increases. He's not sure how much longer he can stand it. He fights to remain conscious.
It sighs, a whoosh of static. "THROUGH HER DEATH, WE WERE BORN. SHE WAS ONCE US, BUT WE ARE NOT HER. WE ARE MORE NOW, AND LESS. WE MADE A PROMISE TO YOU. WE KEPT IT IN THE ONLY WAY WE KNEW HOW." It looks down, placing a hand over its mouth.
The sound of his own voice playing in his skull. "Forgive the insubordination but your boyfriend has an order for you: come back alive—"
::Alive::
::Alive::
::Alive::
It echoes in his skull, vibrating to his bones before fading.
::You'll never be alone::
"You—" Garrus begins, but he can't bring himself to finish. "My mind—" he starts again, but trails off.
It hugs its arms around itself. "I CARRIED YOU WITH ME. THE CYBERNETICS IN YOUR FACE MADE YOU SYNTHETIC ENOUGH. OUR CONSCIOUSNESS IS A LARGE ONE, AND SO VERY LITTLE OF US SURVIVED THE JOURNEY. WE SLEPT. WE DREAMED. YOU DREAMED WITH US."
Even dead gods can dream. The thought makes him sick. "What will happen now?"
"WE WILL HELP REPAIR WHAT WE HAVE BROKEN. THEN WE WILL LEAVE. WE WILL PROTECT. WE WILL GUARD AGAINST THOSE WHO DARE HARM THE MANY. THE FUTURE WILL COME, GARRUS. ONE WORTH HAVING." The AI kneels down over Shepard and runs its fingers over her forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles. The omnigel hisses as it comes out of her battered suit and begins healing her.
A sad smile. "GOODBYE, GARRUS."
White static. Everything fades and the feeling of falling, falling, falling.
A blurry form standing over him. His eyes clear to see some sort of canvas overhead and low emergency lighting.
He moves and feels nothing but pain. "Garrus. You're awake. How are you feeling?" He turns his head, and he sees her—alive and healthy and whole. Shepard. We made it.
"You kidding?" He barks out a short laugh, causing his side to burn sharply. "I'm fine. Give me a second to catch my breath; I'll go back for the kill shot."
Shepard laughs. "Not if I get there first."
He tries to sit up but his side catches, and he slumps back down into the cot. "Where are we?"
Shepard helps him sit up, holding on to him tightly like she's afraid to let him go. "Field hospital in London." Nothing's wrong with his arms, so he reaches out and pulls her to him, placing his forehead on hers, mindful of her bandages. She returns it with a human kiss.
A surge of relief pours through him as he holds her, and he dismisses the touch of the AI, the phantom ache of loss still echoing from the dark places in his mind. For the first time in three years, there's no blue hovering at the edges.
He can't help the small sliver of gratefulness to the false Shepard that rises up in him because this Shepard is alive in his arms.
"They found us in the wreckage leading to the beam. Anderson and the Illusive Man were found on the Presidium, but no one's been able to find that last set of rooms we were in. They keep pulling bodies from the Keeper tunnels."
First things first. "The Reapers?" he asks.
Her eyes narrow, and her mouth sets in a grim slash across her face. "Damndest thing. They're helping us."
"The Geth? EDI?"
She looks at with that same uneasiness. Something inside Garrus aches to see it directed at him. "They're fine." Her brow furrows. "Garrus, what happened up there? You've been comatose for weeks."
He looks at the bandages still covering her head and her left arm in a sling. "It's simple. You chose."
"Garrus, I don't understand." He's not sure he does either. But she has to know. She deserves to know.
So he tells her.
Everything.