Garrus

He watched and waited on his perch. The scope of his gun slowly scanned the hastily erected barriers and walls, searching for anyone stupid enough to give him a target.

Then he saw it, movement at the first barricade. It was slight, but Garrus recognized the top half of a batarian's head, his top pair of eyes barely peaking over. He felt no remorse when he pulled the trigger.

The turian didn't feel much anymore. He had been at this for days, defending the bridge as the Eclipse, Blood Pack, and Blue Suns threw wave after way at him. Adrenaline and stims were the only reason he was still alive, and they helped kill any emotion he could possibly have. All that was left was grim resignation.

Well, if this was to be Garrus' last stand, he was going to make count, killing as many of the bastards that did this to his team, did this to him.

What he wouldn't allow were the gangs to use his death as some propaganda. He could almost hear them. "We have destroyed Archangel and his team. Nothing of them still exists. Let those who would oppose us take note. We will not suffer them."

He hit the record button on his visor and began speaking as another wave jumped over the barrier.

"Just when I think they've ran out of bodies to throw at me, the reinforcements arrive," he said. Garrus was sure the sporadic sound of his sniper rifle would be caught by the mic. "If this is the end, then this recording you're hearing is my final reckoning. I'm setting things straight. Because when the gangs tell the story, it will all be lies. Propaganda they'll use against anyone who dares stand up against their lawlessness.

"I can't let that happen. Everything I've done here, everything I stood for, began long before I came to this damned station."

Garrus spoke of his early life: his strict, militaristic father and his hard lessons, his loving mother and her supportive nature, his unrealistic dreams of becoming anything but a soldier, and the grim realization of that fact.

He didn't know why he felt the need to record his life. Maybe impending death did that to a person, force them to take stock in what they had done with their time in this galaxy. Garrus wasn't so sure if he was happy with his.

"Then everything changed," he continued, still firing on the slowing stream of mercs. "Sovereign attacked the Citadel. It was devastating, horrific. At the time, it was hard to see a way forward. The Citadel would be repaired, but how could life ever go back to the way it was before?

"Apparently, it was very easy. Turns out, it's easier to pretend a tragedy never happened, that the problem never existed, than deal with it directly."

The flow of mercs stopped, but Garrus knew that a few had made it past him and into the building. He searched for them, but they stayed behind cover. At least he knew they couldn't move at the moment, not with him watching.

"Easier for some," Garrus continued into the mic. "After… after the Normandy, I tried to go back to my old life. But the weight of knowing about the Reapers left me fed up with C-Sec and their red tape. I quit and took matters into my own hands."

He told the recording about following a drug supply to Omega. He remembered when he helped that elderly couple. It was the first time since being on Shepard's team that he felt like he made a difference. He told them about meeting Sidonis, about his team slowly growing as more and more people decided they wanted to make a difference on this hellhole, about how they made performing illegal activities here a costly and terrifying endeavor.

"We weren't in it to get rich, but, after a while, the credits started to pile up. That's when things started getting murky. More credits meant more resources, meant we could hit parts of the station that were out of reach. It also complicated motivations. My team started to see a life after the fighting. A comfortable life.

"I wanted none of that. Instead of listening to them, understanding them, I pushed them harder. Drove them to their absolute limit. It wasn't enough to make Omega better. I wanted to purge it. My own feelings got in the way, blinded me," he continued as he waited for another wave. "I couldn't see the crack in the seams.

"I got called away for a small job to stop some gun running with Sidonis, but, when I got there, there was nothing. No gangs, no guns, and no Sidonis. I didn't get it at first. When I got back, it was all too clear."

Garrus remembered the terror he felt when he saw their hideout in flames and heard gunfire from inside. He also remembered the rage when he saw his team lying dead or dying on the floor as Blue Suns tore through them. He didn't remember how the Blue Suns died. That was a blur of fury.

Only Monteague and Ripper were still alive by the time the invaders were dead. Garrus stabilized them as best as he could before moving them upstairs and away from any other attackers. Ripper didn't last long once they got there. He had coughed once, blood spurting and trailed out of the corner of his mouth. Then he was still.

Monteague had regained consciousness briefly. He tried to explain what had happened, but the words were only half formed and pained. Garrus told him to be quiet, to save his strength. The human didn't listen, smiling instead and saying of how proud of the work they accomplished on Omega. He had died shortly after that.

A memory had reignited as he held the dead man, reminding him of something his father told him just before he quit C-Sec.

"This isn't just a job, Garrus. You have to see the bigger picture. There are over a million people on this station, and each one has their own idea on how society should works. Some days, we are the only thing holding this place together."

He had understood at that moment.

"It was my fault," he said, remembering the pained guilt he felt. "All of it was my fault. Concentrating on the details, missing the big picture entirely. And for some reason, I remembered every argument my father and I had. About what it was he tried to drill into me and how hard I tried to not listen. And now it has cost me everything."

Garrus sighed as he noticed movement on the other side. They must be getting ready for another attack. He shot once at a vorcha who wasn't completely behind cover. It was meant to keep them honest.

"They must have found one of the cracks. Divided, Archangel could be conquered. And I let it happen."

Garrus gathered another handful of thermal clips, reading for the attack. "And that's it. End of the line. This was inevitable. This was where it was always leading. I guess there is only one loose end to tie up."

He ended the recording and dialed a number he thought about deleting numerous times. As it rang, he fired on the group flooding over the barrier.

"Hello?" said an all-too-familiar voice.

"Dad," Garrus answered simply, concentrating on lining up the plentiful targets.

"Garrus? Is that you? What's that noise?" he asked.

"Just a little target practice."

He could almost feel the irritation in his father's tone. "Then call me back later."

"I don't think I'll be able to do that. Too many targets."

There was a moment of silence. "I see," he finally answered.

"I just wanted to hear your voice." He struggled for a topic. "Wanted to know how retirement was treating you." Garrus almost laughed at the absurdity of the conversation.

"I'm fine. Forget about that." The reply was earnest and laced with care, an emotion that Garrus thought was foreign to the man.

"Listen, I don't have a lot of time… I just wanted to say that you were right about a lot of things. A lot more than I give you credit for. And I'm sorry we butted heads so much. I'm sorry-"

"I said forget about that. These targets you're practicing on, they moving fast?"

Garrus shot another merc as he tried to crest the barricade, sending him sprawling backwards. "So far, not fast enough. But they're learning."

"How are your thermal clips?"

Leave it to his dad to worry about thermal clips count when Garrus was trying to have a last minute heart-to-heart.

"You know how it is. Could always use a couple more." He couldn't help the small bite in his reply.

"Work with what you got, then. You don't stop pulling the trigger until it clicks, son. No matter how bad things are falling apart around you, as long as you have at least one bullet left, you still can get the job done. Understand?"

Garrus should've expected this when he called his old man. There were only two goals worthy of your time to him: getting the job and doing it right. Nothing else mattered.

"You finish up what you have to do up there and then come on home to Palaven. We have a lot to sort out."

He wasn't expecting that. Garrus had offered the peace knife when he called his father, but he wasn't expecting him to accept it. His dad had always been cold and calculating. He never…

Garrus' head was swimming so much, he almost missed the familiar face in his scope. It couldn't be, he thought. He blinked, thinking the stims, adrenaline, and sleep deprivation had finally caused him to snap, and now he was hallucinating. But, when he looked back through his scope, the apparition was still there.

Commander Troy Shepard.

"Garrus?" his father asked, worried his son may no longer be alive on the other end. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah," Garrus answered. "We do have a lot to hash out, and we will. Thanks, Dad. For everything. I have to go now. Don't worry about me. I'll make it home when I can. The odds just got a lot better."

He closed the comm and ducked back behind cover as a grenade screamed past. He snapped back out and fired, catching the merc through his heart. Then he found Shepard again in his scope.

His distinctive scar was missing from his face, replaced by glowing red lines too straight to be natural. But he still wore his head covering the same way, closely cropped to his skull, and he moved with the same purpose.

Hope grew again, but Garrus had to be sure. He typed a command into his sniper rifle, lined up the shot, and fired at the maybe Shepard. The concussive shot slammed into him, collapsing his shields and forcing the human backwards. Shepard searched for the assailant and found Garrus. His eyes were just as intense as he remembered them.

Garrus let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The man wasn't some hallucination. Shepard was really here. Why he was here working with mercs and not floating over some planet, the turian had no idea. But, if Shepard knew that he was Archangel, the commander would help him.

He went back to work, helping Shepard by clearing a path as best he could. The commander didn't fire back at him, choosing to cut through the attackers from behind.

Garrus took that as a good sign. Maybe he was here to help. Again he had no idea how Shepard knew he was here, but he wasn't about to measure a gift varric's fringe.

Between him and Shepard and his squad, the wave died quickly. Garrus unlocked the door once the gunfire quieted before turning back to an elusive merc that so far had managed to stay behind cover.

"Archangel?"

Shepard's voice held an odd mixture of foreignness and familiarity. Garrus could only imagine it stemmed from the fact the man was supposed to be dead, and he should have never heard that voice again.

He held up a finger and went back to the merc. The human was getting anxious. He peaked out just a bit to assess the situation. It was enough, and Garrus pulled the trigger.

The turian stood up, feeling the burn in his legs as he did so. He had been crouched down like that for almost a full station cycle. His muscles were achy, and Garrus didn't know if he could stand for much longer without falling over. So he sat down on some crates in an attempt to not show how thoroughly this onslaught was affecting him.

He belatedly realized that his helmet was still on, and Shepard had no idea who he was behind the mask. He removed it and placed next to him.

There were a thousand of questions he wanted to ask, but he decided to start with the most obvious. "Shepard. I thought you were dead."

"Garrus! What are you doing here?" The smile on his face was wide and full. Garrus didn't think anyone was so happy to see him before.

He shrugged. "Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice."

He tried to keep the exhaustion and stiffness from his voice, but Shepard's concerned look and next question told him how badly he failed.

"You okay?"

"Been better," he answered honestly, "but it sure is good to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work. Especially on your own."

"What are you doing here?" Shepard asked. "I heard you disappeared, but Omega? There are better places to go than here."

"You know me, Shepard. Got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel and decided I could do more on my own. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."

"Speaking of shoot," Shepard said as he rolled his shoulder in obviously mocked pain, "you nailed me good a couple of times."

"Concussive rounds only. No harm done," Garrus said a bit too quickly. He really didn't want Shepard to know he fired on him to make sure he was real. "Didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."

"Uh-huh." The smile on the human's face didn't complement his disbelieving tone.

"If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it. Besides, you were taking your sweet time. I needed to get you moving."

"Well, we are here now. But I don't think getting out will be as easy. There is a small army on the other side of that bridge."

Garrus nodded, hopping off the crates now the burn in his legs subsided. He had figured there were still multiple people on the other side, just waiting to take him out. "The bridge has saved my life, funneling those witless idiots into scope, but it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."

"Just waiting doesn't seem like a good plan. We can only hold out for so long. You know the layout best. What do you suggest we do?"

"This place has held them off so far. With the three of you, I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defenses, and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan, but it's a plan. We've gotten out of worse scrapes than this though."

Shepard nodded. "How did you manage to get yourself in this position? There are three major merc bands on the other side of the bridge working together just for you." Garrus heard the awe and pride in his voice.

"It wasn't easy. I really had to work at it. I'm amazed that they teamed up to fight me. They must really hate me."

"And your situation now?" he asked.

Leave it to Shepard to ask the right question that he wasn't ready to answer.

"My feelings got in the way of my better judgment," Garrus answered as he looked around his team's hideout. There were so many memories here, victories celebrated, laughs shared, drinks consumed, fights settled. Now it was full of ghosts.

"It's a long story," he continued. "I'll make you a deal: you get me out of here alive, and I'll tell you the whole damn thing." Maybe by then, Garrus will be ready.

Shepard nodded, and Garrus saw the sympathy in his eyes. He knew the commander had experienced something similar to his team's massacre and could relate. The turian was grateful for that.

"If we fight like a team, we'll hold them off. Let's see what they are doing," Shepard said as he brought up the scope of his sniper rifle to inspect the people beyond barrier. "Looks like they're starting the next wave."

Garrus checked as well. "Eclipse mechs. We're in for a fight. I'll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point. You… you can do what you do best." He smiled at the man. "Just like old times, Shepard. Let's give them everything we've got."

Fighting with Shepard again felt like falling back into an easy routine. It was as if two years hadn't passed, the Normandy wasn't destroyed, and his entire team wasn't dead. Garrus didn't realize how much he missed it.

Shepard was as ruthlessly efficient as ever. Garrus had been an excellent marksman ever since he entered the turian military, thanks in large part to his dad's merciless training, but the commander made a sniper rifle dance. Transitioning effortless between rifle and pistol, expertly lining up the shots, never missing a target. It was deadly art.

When they brought the heavy mech, Garrus thought they were in trouble. He should have known better. Shepard was an expert in subterfuge and tech. Of course he would create some havoc while he was making his way here. So when the YMIR turned and began firing on the Eclipse, it only took a small smile from Shepard to tell Garrus what he had done.

With the mech's help, none of the mercs could even get into the building. Garrus was especially surprised to see Jaroth in his scope, but he quickly got over it and placed a new hold in the slimy bastard's head.

Once the smoke cleared from the heavy mech's meltdown, the two snipers surveyed the other end of the bridge, trying to determine what they were planning. A tremor and sounds of explosions pulled Garrus away from his scope. He checked the sensors he set up on the doors leading into the basement on his omnitool.

"Damn it. They've breached the lower level." He looked at Shepard. "Well, they had to use their brains eventually. You better get down there, Shepard. There are shutters that will close and keep them from attacking us from two sides. I'll keep the bridge clear while you're down there."

"Okay. Mordin, stay with Garrus. Keep him safe."

His salarian teammate nodded. "Will do what I can."

Garrus was glad for the help, but Shepard might need all the firepower he could muster. "You sure? Who knows what you'll find down there."

The commander smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I just found one of the best soldiers I've ever worked with and a trusted friend. I'm not going to leave him alone up here. Zaeed and I can handle anything we find."

And they did. As the Blood Pack started to flood the bridge with vorcha, Garrus received pings on his omnitool that the shutters were being closed.

He was grateful Shepard left Mordin behind with him as well. There were simply too many of the Blood Pack's horde to deal with by himself. Unfortunately, working with the alien also reminded him of his explosive expert, Sensat. There was something similar to how the two salarians moved.

Eventually, Garm showed his ugly face. The krogan was relentless, reminding Garrus of the long, drawn-out brawl they had months before. But even he couldn't stand the combined force of the turian and Shepard who appeared from the basement at exactly the right time.

Once the towering krogan fell, silence permeated the house. It was an odd sound. He had been fighting for his life for days, and the eerie quiet didn't fit.

Shepard and Garrus used the lull in action to decide on the next course of action. They decided on taking a chance against the Blue Suns and fight to safety. But that plan was squashed when a familiar buzzing filled the void left by the absent gunfire, and Tarak's gunship appeared in the window.

"Get your head down!" the man Shepard called Zaeed yelled.

The ship's gun roared to life, spraying bullets relentlessly into the room.

"Damn it! I thought I took that thing out already!" Garrus yelled over the din.

The gunship left the window, and Blue Suns swung in. They were easily handled, but Garrus' omnitool chirped a warning. He looked at the signal and swore.

"They're repelling down the side wall. Ground floor!"

Shepard and his team left the loft to take a better position at the top of the stairs, leaving Garrus alone. That's when Tarak in the gunship decided to reappear. He opened fire, dropping the turian's shields almost instantly.

"Archangel!" the batarian yelled as Garrus dove for cover. "You think you can screw with the Blue Suns! This ends now!"

Garrus heard the ignition of a rocket and tried to jump away from the blast. He was too late. The heat from the blast overwhelmed him, and shrapnel tore into his flesh. He barely remembered landing before the world went black.

Then the pain flared, screaming at his brain. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. His eyes opened wide, and he gasped.

"Garrus!" he heard someone yell.

He searched for the voice, tried to respond. There were gargling sound where words should have been. The pain lanced across his body. He tried to speak again. There were more wet sounds.

Is that me?

"We're getting you out of here, Garrus!" the voice said, a little farther away this time. "Just hold on."

Who is talking? Why am I…

The world started to dim and fade, and what few thoughts he could gather came more sluggish.

"Radio Joker. Make sure they're ready for us."

"He's not going to make it," another voice said.

"Mordin! What can we-"

Whatever the voice said was lost as Garrus slipped back into unconsciousness.

The next thing Garrus remembered was a familiar human face eagerly watching him.

"Glad to see you're still with us, Garrus. I would hate to see my favorite turian die on my table."

"Dr. Chakwas. I'm surprised to see you here," Garrus coughed out. "I thought you were still in the Alliance."

"Jeff informed me about Cerberus' offer and Shepard's return. I knew my place was here, with them. You may sit up if you're feeling well enough."

He did so. Once he was upright, he noticed a dull ache in his right mandible and rawness on the right side of his face. He lifted a taloned claw to investigate only to have it slapped away by the good doctor.

"Don't touch. You have significant burns on the right side of your face. They are still healing. Your mandible was almost completely blown off." She must have seen the horror on his face. "Don't worry. It's still there, and, with time, you will have full functionality. Mordin did an amazing job in the field stabilizing you. I don't think you would have survived without his help."

"How bad is the scarring?"

Her face fell slightly. "It's extensive and deep. I doubt your plates will ever grow back in many places."

Garrus was surprised how little that affected him. Turians missing plates were seen as less attractive than their full-plate counterparts. But his appearance didn't seem to matter as much to him.

"Am I good to go?"

Chakwas shook her head and smiled at him. "Yes. Since turians don't get concussions and you had no extensive internal injuries, there is no reason to hold you here. I would prefer for you to get some rest, but I know how you are."

Garrus hopped off the table. "Too stubborn for my own good. Thank you, Dr. Chakwas."

"It is my job. I'm just glad you're doing okay. Shepard is in the conference room up one deck if you wish to speak with him."

After she gave him directions and he thanked her again, Garrus left to find the commander. The Cerberus crew kept their eyes on him, but he felt no malice in their gazes. It was more admiration. He guessed that his time with Shepard two years ago carried some weight here.

He found the conference room, and its door opened just as a dark-colored man in a Cerberus uniform was finishing his thought.

"Shepard," Garrus said calmly.

The man's smile stretched nearly across his entire face.

"Tough son of a bitch," the Cerberus agent said. "Didn't think he'd be up yet."

Garrus walked in. "Nobody would give me a mirror. How bad is it?"

Shepard, still smiling, crossed his arms nonchalantly. "Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face-paint on there, and no one will even notice."

He laughed and instantly regretted it as his right mandible flared in pain. "Don't make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is." He gave the best turian smile he could manage at the moment. "Ah, probably for the best. Everyone was always ignoring you and hitting on me. Time for you to get a fair shot at it."

The Cerberus agent saluted and walked out, giving the two men some privacy.

"Frankly, I'm more worried about you," Garrus continued. "Cerberus, Shepard? Do you remember-"

"I remember plenty," Shepard interrupted. "I don't like it any more than you do, but I need their resources if I'm going to stop the Collectors." His voice softened. "That's why I'm glad you're here, Garrus. If I'm walking into hell, I want someone I trust at my side."

"You do realize this plan has me walking into hell, too." He laughed again, careful not to reinjure his face. "Just like old times. I'm fit for duty whenever you need me."

He began to walk out and find some place to spend his time. Shepard's voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry about your team, Garrus. I saw how you covered… I know they meant a lot to you."

A dam broke, and a rush of emotions flooded Garrus. Everything he had been suppressing during the siege, the rage, the pain, the sorrow, the guilt, flooded him, nearly toppling him under the emotional weight. He needed… he needed time to process. He needed to be alone.

"Forward batteries," he stammered. "I'll see what I can do with the forward batteries," he tried again and left just as quickly as he arrived.