"Doing all right, Vakarian?" a deep voice asked from the chair opposite him.

It took Garrus a moment to realize he was staring at his plate. On a normal day, he would have eaten the entirety of his meal before the rest of the group even finished. Turians were known for their fast metabolisms, so it wasn't uncommon for them to eat large portions (if and when the portions were available). Garrus, however, had barely eaten anything in front of him. Xarius, the source of the voice, was the youngest among the turian crew he ran with, but by far the most observant. He tapped a gloved talon against Garrus's plate.

"I don't think you took a bit the whole time we've been sitting here."

Garrus merely shrugged, not really in the mood to talk. He allowed his friends to continue their conversation as his eyes wandered the dining hall. Since West End consisted mostly of emergency housing, it was rare for anyone to have private areas. Kitchens and bathrooms were communal, where anyone who volunteered helped to serve and maintain the areas. A small, pooch-stomached man who went simply by "Skip" ran the main kitchen where the recovery/rebuilding crew went to eat. Surprisingly, Skip knew a good amount about dextro-foods, so the turians and quarians in the area where happy to eat more than bland rations every day. There was a fair number of the races around, however, so they usually met one meal a day with different varieties cooked in the ways of their home worlds.

The main kitchen was part of what was left of a college campus area, according to the local humans. Clearing debris and rebuilding the dormitories were first priority, so people had additional rooms to stay in, but the dining hall was cleared out and reorganized as soon as they were able. Skip, who was apparently a legend as a mass sergeant on the military base, took charge of the area to make sure everyone was well-fed.

Recovery crews rolled through the dining halls and living areas all hours of the day, covered in any and all kinds of dirt, ash, and muck. Several of the crews had been working together since the end of the Reaper War, so they began to look to each other as close friends and even family. Moods factored greatly on how their days went by out and around the city. Their work granted them the chance to begin branching out of London and into the surrounding areas. Some days, they came bearing salvage or even groups of survivors who had been traveling nearby. These days were loud, chatty with jokes and laughter, the occasional booming krogan laugh practically shaking the floor. Other days, they found nothing but despair, reminding all of them again how many they had really lost. Murmurs were common on those days, everyone lost in their own thoughts, wondering if the remains they found could have belonged to the people they still had yet to find.

"How's that woman of yours?" Xarius asked, drawing Garrus back to the present.

"Another surgery today," he answered with another shrug.

"Pretty big one?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. She's made it through worse."

Garrus huffed a laugh. "Yeah."

Before the launching of the Crucible, it was common news for everyone that Garrus had a relationship with Commander Shepard. Most of the forces fighting with them heard gossip in some form or another, even ridiculous stories that people concocted about them at one point or another. The turians that worked among Garrus with the Reaper Task Force didn't ask questions about their "superior officer" being involved with a human, but they had their own stories floating around. Garrus's particular favorite was the theory that he and Shepard somehow had a child together. Shepard had laughed at the idea, so it became a running joke about their turian-human love child.

Once they returned to Earth to see Shepard, he knew he wouldn't be able to be completely silent about the commander being at the make-shift hospital. After all, he went there every day, even when Kirron made a scene about it. The recovery crew that he worked with noticed his continued visits, so it was natural they were curious about it. Some even wondered if something was medically wrong with Garrus. Explaining that Shepard was indeed alive sent a wave of respectful nods and smiles through the group, but he asked for them to be quiet about it.

In all honesty, he wanted to tell everyone he saw that his girlfriend was alive, making her usual snappy remarks and complaining about the various casts she was forced to wear. He wanted to announce to all of the worlds that she was still here, and he would be damned if anything else would happen to her. Liara and Kaidan were the two that explained their theories of too many knowing Shepard was alive.

The commander would be seen as a symbol of perseverance, the leading example that despite their losses, they could push forward and rebuild. Whether she wanted to be or not, she would be seen as a beacon of hope by most. So many people would want to see her, or know she was doing something to help. Then, there would be those that saw Shepard as the cause of everything. People tended to redirect their grief and suffering into anger, and Shepard would be the perfect target. No matter what she did, some would always see her as the monster that brought the end of all they knew. Logic pointed to those people wanting to hurt Shepard as some kind of justification for what they had to go through.

Basically, if everyone knew, Shepard's life would be in constant danger yet again.

When she was ready, Shepard would have to face more challenges. For now, though, she earned the break. Of course Garrus wanted to see her every free moment he had, but subconsciously, he kept visiting the hospital to make sure no one tried to hurt her. If there was any moment to exact revenge of one of the most famous soldiers in history, it would be now.

Garrus excused himself from the table, offering his untouched food to any of the other turians that wanted it. He began walking toward the Linds building with a few nods and short greetings to some passersby. Rain once again fell around them, this time in a misty haze, just short of be considered fog. The gray overcast around West End gave him a strangely ominous feeling. It wasn't very common for him to feel so uneasy. Miranda reassured him that the surgery for Shepard's prosthetic would be no real danger to her, and he trusted they knew what they were doing well enough … but he couldn't ignore the weight in his stomach.

He increased his pace.

A/N (Might be a little long, sorry!): I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates! I've had a blur of "new video game syndrome" with GTA V, along with a rather unexpected development. Actually, I've adopted a kitten. He's been staying with me this past week, so we've had to do a lot training-wise and bonding time. Plus, he's made it a bit harder to type since he wants to bat at my fingers as I write. Fortunately, for now, he's curled up sleeping in my lap. Hopefully I can use this time to get some more written. I'll do my best to get up a couple more chapters in a few days. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read Aftermath and having such patience waiting for updates. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.

Oh, and if anyone's curious, my kitten seems to be a fan of his name: Garrus.