.

There is nothing above, there is nothing below
Heaven and hell live in all of us
And I've been cast astray

I am the ocean, I am the sea
There is a world inside of me
Lost in the abyss, drowned in the deep
No set of lungs could salvage me
Save yourself, save your breath
The tides too strong, you'll catch your death
So breathe for me, just breathe

If we make it through the night, if we make it out alive
We'll have mercy and pray for the dead
Are you saying that you can save me
Don't hope to ever find me
And I fear I'm too far gone

Bring Me The Horizon - Crucify me

Chapter 3 ~ New ghosts, old regrets

From my vantage point I watched the edge of the overthrown desk through the visor of my helmet.

My breath was even and slow. On its own my body had already fallen in with the familiar pattern, slightly tensing and relaxing muscles that would have otherwise cramped. Motionless, I barely noticed the time crawl by.

Patience.

Yeah. Patience I was trained to have in a abundance. Especially in a place like this.

I allowed myself a pleased twitch of my cheek. All other circumstances set aside, this location was a sniper's dream. The elevated gallery provided a perfect vista over the lobby and the office space that stretched out below. At its far end a narrow bridge spanned over a deep gap – one of many remainders of Omega's past as eezo mine – and the only path that connected the actual office facilities with the building's main entry on the other side.

Like so many other bureau complexes in this area, the office had recently been abandoned in haste. A lucky coincidence owned to the many subversive undercurrents that surged through Omega these days and disrupted regular business. Some even whispered Aria's iron hold was waning, that she was growing soft with age. In my opinion, the cunning blue alien was probably just pursuing an agenda that would simply see its effects when the majority of Omega's citizens had long since turned to dust.

I had spotted the building the day before the assault on my team. We immediately had started to move our equipment here. Which made it in hindsight the perfect moment for our enemies to strike and –

There.

As expected, my endurance was eventually rewarded. A pale-skinned, misshaped figure crept into the view of my scope; its nightmarish features twisted into a constant feral snarl that exposed too many pointed teeth.

Focus.

My breath slowed. My finger slid along the trigger. A short but fervent prayer to the gods of abrasion that the blasted thing wouldn't jam on me again. I freed my mind and the world shrunk back, until there was nothing left to disturb the concentration. The calm before the kill. The only moments of peace I had these days.

Release.

The bullet hit the forehead dead center and exited on the back in a spray of red. With barely a sound the last vorcha of a pack of five dropped to join his brethren already fallen. At least they died quick. It was all the mercy I had to give.

I exhaled; slowly, controlled and ducked back into cover; just as slowly and controlled.

It was a sham. In truth I was utterly exhausted.

After the incidence with Kervol, things had gotten messy. I tracked down rumor after rumor only to circle back to the Blue Suns' head of security. At least he admitted before his untimely demise that Eclipse made a deal with Sidonis. Tarak, the leader of the Blue Suns here on Omega, was foaming at his ugly mouth and send his people after me. I got rid of them and I poked deeper; Eclipse mercs fell, but still no trace of the traitor. And the bounty, their leader Jaroth, had put out on my head after I killed his brother, boosted to a new record. Suddenly I had not only the Blue Suns and Eclipse hot on my heels, but also Garm with his imbeciles of the Blood Pack – and the bulk of this blasted asteroid's soldiers of misfortune. Which was how in the course of less than one orbit, I turned from feared hunter to Omega's most hunted. The irony was thick enough to choke on.

Then I had finally retreated here, to the fateful would-be base at the edge of Kima District. Unfortunately, the first attack came soon after. I barely made it back to my sniping spot in time. Damn, but with a bit more preparation this place could have been a fortress. Instead I had a handful of planted mines, a big bag of ammo and a few sealed-off doors that would give me at least some warning before the enemy showed up behind my back. Whatever good it was going to do.

This is really not worth the trouble…

I shook my head. Fact, I was on the run for days now. Days in which the constant pursuit and the short skirmishes were finally reaping their tribute. Was it really days? Weeks? Somewhere between, my sense of time had become fuzzy; day and night all running together into one blurry haze. Despite the unhealthy amount of stims pumping through my veins, a crushing weariness had seeped so deeply into my bones I couldn't even remember how it felt not to be spent to the limits.

Damn, I was just so tired…

I leaned against the pillar to my left and put down my helmet to rub my burning eyes with the heel of my hand. The last time I slept, really slept was probably the night before the attack. The night when I sat with Monteague and Grundan Krul on that roof top, talking about a time after Omega. The night when Mierin…

My concentration wavered. I regretted it instantly. Grey eyes, glazed and lifeless stared at me. Pushing me into another guilt trip I couldn't afford. My lids flashed open. Right. Her ghost made certainly sure that I wouldn't nod off with the next attack underway. Or ever again.

In the back of my mind I could hear Mierin's soft snicker. Bad sign. I still cocked my head and waited like I had so often these past days. One voice usually drew out the others as well. My team. And if I was lucky even… somewhere some rational part of my brain was screaming in alarm; this wasn't just pathetic, it was outright dangerous and yet –

Brought yourself into quite a situation, huh?

"You've no idea," I mumbled to the rumbling, krogan voice, absently fishing for my last RTU injector. There. Just a little sting on my neck and…

The stims kicked in almost instantly and forced the weariness to retreat. Not much but enough. My heart rate sped up and dulled senses sharpened. Once more the stench of death bit my nostrils, blurred shadows cleared and muffled sounds became distinct. My skin itched inside my armor, each touch a dozen times more intense. I cherished every bit of it; allowed the sensation to drag me ever deeper into the stim-induced hyperawareness, I needed so much.

Finally a long-forgotten calm washed over me as I chased after the voices of my dead friends. Until I believed what my utterly screwed-up senses told me. A familiar presence right behind my back. I suppressed the urge to look. It was their presence. I could feel them. So close. And I knew if I shifted my stance… almost close enough to brush against them. As long as I didn't turn around they weren't just voices.

They were here.

Breathing with me.

Fighting with me.

Dying with me.

Spirits. I had lost my mind and welcomed the madness with arms wide open.

A low booming noise from the other end of the bridge ripped me from my crazed daze. Its frequency increased to a steady pulse, then died as abrupt as it had started. I peeked over the rim of my cover and zoomed in with my scope but couldn't see nil.

What in the Primarch's bloody name was Tarak up to now?

I resumed my watch of the perimeter, my guardians whispering softly in the back of my head. Several dented cabinets had vomited their contents to the ground in a flood of paper. The pristine white littering the floor created a surreal contrast to the traces of death staining the room. Red spread out rapidly from the corner of a desk a few paces away from the mouth of the bridge. Despite its parched look, a vorcha's body contained a surprising amount of blood. Soon the puddle would merge with the greenish fluids dripping from an amphibian shape, doubled over an overturned locker. I turned my head away only to have my gaze fell on a bulky turian and the coral reef of grey speckled with lumps of blue that clung behind him to the wall.

I inhaled. Despite the stims, my overtaxed senses thankfully barely registered the heavy metallic scent that permeated the air. Whatever they tell you at boot camp, there is nothing glorious about a battlefield after the fighting had been done. Just suffering and the fetid miasma of death.

You better hold on, Soldier. Or do you want Tarak and Jaroth to get away unscathed?

Somewhere, the thought actually stirred up a spark of fire. It couldn't overrule the increasing desperation, though. As much as it galled me, the nature of this siege had become a direct reflection of the battle that had been raging for months between me and the leaders of Omega's three biggest mercenary fractions – consuming, arduous and ultimately futile.

Frustration made my stomach churn.

In the end it didn't matter that this location was a death trap nobody in their right mind would attack upfront. That I had watched Nyreen Kandros arrive at the drop zone with five of her Talons in tow. That she took one look at the perimeter and turned back laughing her cute little ass off. That other professionals did the same. Because if there was one thing to rely on, then it was the notorious greed of people in general and mercs in particular; and the World without Law was indeed a world where every badly equipped thug with a gun and the slightest inkling about how to pull a trigger called himself a merc. So as long as Tarak and Jaroth kept throwing shiploads of credits in their general direction, there would always be yet another freelancer dumb, desperate or greedy enough to tackle the 30 meters without real cover and a sniper waiting in the weeds.

The perfect death trap, indeed.

So perfect, it worked in both directions. I was equally pinned down on my side of the bridge; unable to move, unable to hide. Forced to waste my resources and strength on imbeciles rushing in blindly just to catch bullets, while the real enemy sat idly behind the lines, biding their time while my defeat edged closer with each heatsink I used up, with each time I had to force myself onwards to take aim and pull the trigger.

How much longer could I keep this up? How much longer until I simply fell over from exhaustion? The stims might have bought me another few precious hours of faked energy but then what?

Checkmate, Vakarian.

With a sense of finality the words smashed through the haze I kept dragging myself through. And again I was struck by the bitter irony of my situation. No matter how many more I killed, how hard I fought and resisted, eventually there was only one resort out of the stalemate I had maneuvered myself into:

The Last Resort.

I looked down and at the pistol in my hand I didn't remember drawing.

Redeemer.

What a tantalizing thought.

My ghostly companions drew closer; their whispers comforting like a siren's caress.

I raised the gun.

In front of my inner eye I imagined standing over Sidonis' body. Tried to feel the satisfaction; his brains blown out, my friends avenged. It wasn't working. Instead...

Fury.

So I thought of my team. Of the months we had spent together, living and fighting side by side. Of the things we had accomplished. Of the things we could have accomplished, if not for the betrayal. If not for me pushing us beyond all boundaries.

Remorse.

A brush of teeth on my cheek. Fingers digging into the back of my neck. Mierin... I'm so sorry… Rejecting her love time and again, like the idiot I was. Too self-absorbed, too engrossed in my personal crusade against all evil. Too afraid of the vulnerability she might have caused, had I given in to more than a mere physical connection. And now it was too late.

Pain.

An alien's hand on my arm. How come that the few months I spent on the Normandy had become so crucial? That the Commander and her human logic of all things had pierced through my firm believes and imperturbable truths and opened the door to this other world; this grey world? That I found kinship like no other among a crew of aliens? And now I would never get the chance to make good on the promise to meet Liara and Tali again.

Grief.

I thought of my family back on Palaven. Of how I refused to answer my sister's messages and calls since coming to Omega. Of the last time I saw my father and that we again had parted in anger. Of my mother and the creeping sickness, she thought she had hidden so well.

I thought of all the missed chances and wrong decisions on the way that led me eventually to this desperate last stand in this hellhole, and guess what? I looked back and all that was left were regrets.

Mierin's ghost embraced me.

I closed my eyes.

.~'*'~.

Shouts pounded against my consciousness. Shouts and gunfire.

My lids snapped open.

Right. Why should I be allowed to die in peace?

With a growl, I holstered the Redeemer, shoved a fresh heatsink into my sniper rifle and pushed away from the pillar I've been hiding behind. The Mantis would dispose of this unplanned distraction quickly and I could get back to my sirens seducing me into ending all my sorrows.

Unfortunately the team of five human freelancers was already over the bridge and bunking down in midst of the debris field made of office furniture. Let's see. We got a glimpse at a well-trained male, a short figure in black armor and a slim female in a ludicrous tight white suit. The three vanished behind cover way too quick but the other two were still running along. One was a merc with an impressive collection of knives strapped over a battered Devlon breastplate – too bad he was at a gunfight and not hunting lizards in the Grassy Plains. The other was a pale little man in green camouflage with facial hair colored like fire. He was shooting around wildly, his bullets not even remotely near my position. It was mind-staggering. Where did they find these dilettantes?

I aimed at Red-Head, fired – and missed. With a yelp, he skittered behind a cabinet and out of my firing line. I clicked my tongue in vexation. Then I saw Knife leaning out from his cover. Somewhere he had actually found a gun and his shots at least were precise enough to make me duck and move to the left. Which was exactly when I realized there were only two people shooting.

What the…

I risked another glance, just in time to watch how Knife and Red-Head levitated from their covers.

Pop, pop. Red bloomed on their foreheads; thin rivulets like macabre clan markings bisecting their faces. Covered in blue lightning, the woman in the white suit made a waving gesture and the bodies smashed into the next row of cabinets.

Huh. That was… unexpected. Adrenaline shot into my veins. I lowered the rifle. If this was some kind of hallucination it certainly was damn strange one. Staring at the dead mercs, I forced the sirens to withdraw. All of a sudden I was way too intrigued by the maneuver down there to shove the gun into my mouth and pull that blasted trigger.

Angry shouts drew my attention to the mercs' drop zone on other side of the lobby. So some spectator had discovered that those freelancers were not playing by the rules. Immediately the renegade team reacted. They fanned out evenly, their steady movements a strong indicator that their combat training didn't stem from watching Bullet Train.

From the corner of my eye I saw the black armored freelancer vault over a desk to retreat below the gallery out of my line of sight. Something about that movement tickled my memory but – I shook my head. Blasted stims.

I paused. Actually there was a familiar logo on the man's and the woman's gear. I had seen this before. It took me some time to wade through the clouded depths of my mind, but eventually I found my rotten answer.

Cerberus.

The day just kept getting better and better.

So naturally the enemy chose exactly that moment to launch another sortie, yet instead of more freelancers, Blue Sun troopers, Eclipse vanguards and Blood Pack spilled out of the corridors in a furious horde, full focus on eradicating the traitors.

Alright then, Archangel couldn't draw them out for hours, but Cerberus made it within moments. Battle or not, this was insulting!

Bristled, I brought the scope back up and zoomed in on my next target. The profile of a delicate female human face framed by a dark cap of hair jumped into my view. In that chaos, it would be easy to take out the Cerberus biotic before the others realized what was happening, and then we could all leave that strange episode behind.

The woman in white shouted something to her squad and released a biotic blast against a krogan that pushed him off the bridge. She ducked and reloaded her SMG. The cross wires hovered over her smooth forehead. My finger twitched on the trigger – and froze.

I couldn't do it.

Perhaps I had been indifferent to my fate a few minutes ago, but now? Now the only thing I could think of was that those Cerberus mercs or whatever they were had placed themselves between me and my certain end. I didn't care for their reasons or their agenda. What I cared for was that suddenly there was this tiny chance for survival and I clung to it like a madman.

I was a blasted coward.

I put my helmet back on, fished another set of clips from my ammo bag and took position. Aiming for the tank of a vorcha pyro, I ran my thumb across the small nick above the trigger of my Mantis and couldn't help my grin.

Archangel might see another dawn after all.

.~'*'~.

Moments later, I heard my questionable allies approach my position.

I spared a quick glance to make sure it was them and not some overly lucky merc, then switched my attention back to the attacking forces. It was as if the appearance of the renegades had burst a dam somewhere; their whole tactics screaming now or never. I finished another pyro when Cerberus flanked me, their well-coordinated biotics and fire power more than able to hold the attacking forces at bay. For now.

"Archangel?"

That voice… I squeezed my eyes shut. No, not on this side of the grave. But truth to tell, I'd been hoping my mind would bring up that voice again before the end. How sick was that?

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Oh this was good. It sounded so real… Maybe the stims had finally damaged something permanently in my brain.

"Are you deaf or what?"

No. But what do I know, maybe I am dead already.

I chuckled. Yeah, why not? I turned around. And the world came to a halt with a lurch and a deafening thunderclap.

"Well thank you. Now, are you Archangel, or did I just add myself to a damn lot of shit-lists for naught?" The human soldier in gear black as midnight crossed her arms below her chest, fingers tapping her arm just so.

Impossible.

It was her.

The very woman whose death I mourned two years ago, whose ghostly presence my brain had been trying to conjure so recently. Her deep green eyes flashed. Oh, I knew that unmistakable blend of challenge and dare-to-defy. I would recognize it no matter what and – her face. Thin cuts criss-crossed her face, the angry red a stark contrast to the otherwise too pale complexion of her skin.

What the fuck was going on?

I hastened to yank down my helmet despite the fact I felt like falling apart any moment. Somehow I couldn't really believe to have died without noticing. Then how? Sure, I hadn't seen her corpse but the footage of the crash site and Jeff's report…

"Garrus!? What…" Her eyes widened.

"Hey, Shepard… you're alive?" I heard a turian voice asking. He sounded troubled. Oh. It was me.

"At least for now. It's a damn long story."

She reached out as if to shake my hand, then changed her mind and clasped her arms around me in a hearty embrace. Our armors connected with a soft clunk and I experienced a brief moment of hesitation. The Shepard I remembered had almost taken pains to avoid physical proximity, while this one… I shoved all thoughts aside and put my arms around her shoulders to give her a quick hug; certainly she wanted to pull back any moment and – and for the second time in short order I was proven wrong.

"You're quite solid for a ghost," I mumbled when she made no attempts to let go of me; my chin just a few inches away from her temple. A faint fragrance of herbal soap and something I identified as her tickled my nose and I suddenly wondered if this was a hallucination after all. After hours of smelling nothing but death and blood it was like breathing in something I had completely forgotten about: hope.

"I know. I still have troubles believing it myself…" she whispered back with a chuckle and a last squeeze, then stepped away. "Archangel. Garrus Vakarian. This is just… damn…" she trailed off.

"Crazy?"

"Yeah. That." She said absently, while fidgeting with her hands as if wanting to reach out again and check if I was real. I understood. I was struggling with the same urge.

"I take it, you already know each other?" The male Cerberus agent asked and stepped up to us; M-15 assault rifle still in hand. A quick look at the perimeter showed that the mercs had drawn back. To regroup and attack with full strength, no doubt. We had seconds, perhaps minutes of cease-fire at best.

"Yeah, you can definitely say that," the fair-haired Spectre replied, never ceasing to beam up at me. Then she looked at her companions and abruptly her mirth faded. "Garrus, these are XO Miranda Lawson and Officer Jacob Taylor. Miranda, Jacob; please meet Garrus Vakarian, member of my former team and the best sniper and flank guard I ever had the luck to fight with." A mischievous glint entered her gaze before it was quickly smothered over again. "Without him we could have never stopped Saren or the Sovereign."

"It's an honor," Jacob Taylor said, and I shook hands with them, yet underneath the thin layer of friendliness, I was alarmed. And decidedly worried. To my sincere regret, I simply couldn't fool myself any longer to ignore the fact that my friend showed up with two Cerberus operatives in tow.

"We heard much of you, Officer Vakarian," Miranda Lawson said. "The Illusive Man will be pleased to learn of this development, Shepard."

I looked at my former Commander. Who?

"If you'll excuse us for a second," the human Spectre said to the other woman, then turned to me and nodded towards the rail of the gallery. I followed her and side by side we looked over the pandemonium of death and broken office furniture that spread below us.

"Illusive Man?" I asked quietly.

"A self-important prick. Runs Cerberus," she murmured and I stared at her in perplexity.

"This is a joke, right?"

"Unfortunately… no. I'd wish, though." She rubbed her face. All of a sudden, she appeared just as tired as I felt. "Okay, Archangel. How on earth did you get yourself into such a mess? This rock is crawling with rumors, one wilder than the next and back in there…" She gestured with her thumb to where the mercs had set up their camp. "Oh man, they want to see you dead very badly."

I snorted. Hugs or not, some things apparently would never change. "Yeah, well, this hadn't played out exactly as planned."

Shepard arched one of those fine hairlines at me – "brow," I thought they called it, her voice picking up agitation despite the hushed tone. "And that's why you decided to go to war with all mercs at once? Alone? Are you out of your friggin' mind? I almost believe you want to get killed, for fuck's sake!"

With a shrug I lifted my rifle to watch the drop zone once more. So much better than giving away how close she had come to hit the core. Or worse, having to look at her face and admit I screwed it up. Garrus Vakarian, damn hypocrite.

"I wasn't always alone, but… Things have changed, Shepard. Besides, what about you? Cerberus. Come on, seriously? You're definitely the last person I expected to be with them."

"I'm not with them, they're with me; which is something entirely different," she huffed unusual defiant and I put the Mantis down to regard her once more. The afflicted expression on her face spoke volumes. My hand clenched around the rifle.

Exactly how deep have you waded in, Commander?

Maybe I really should have pulled the trigger on that Cerberus woman…

She sighed and stared at her hands. "Look, it's complicated. When –"

A sudden low rumble cut her off and we both spun away from the rail, weapons raised in one fluid motion. She nodded towards the two Cerberus operatives and they complied and spread out – just like a solid team should. And yet again Shepard's face had darkened as soon as her gaze fell upon them.

"What was this?" she asked. "An explosion?"

"The lower vaults." I said quickly. "Curse it! I feared they would eventually try to come through the maintenance area and get at me from behind."

"Can we stop them somehow?"

"Hardly. But the bulkheads are solid. They will need forever if they try to bomb their way through all of them."

Without warning the lamps above us started to sizzle. I looked up. The light flickered, once, twice and then we were cast in darkness.

.~'*'~.

The dim light of my omni-tool reflected on the very close walls around us. It provided just enough illumination to have a faint feel of oppression creep up on me – and the sweet odor of decay that wafted over from the passage to my right on top of the already stifling air wasn't helping either. I pushed the unpleasant thoughts of suffocating in a maze of disabled air vents down and checked our direction at the intersection in front of me. Still east. Leading the way, I crawled straight on, my shoulders almost brushing the walls. The soft scraping of armor and boots echoed through the otherwise silent darkness.

Behind me, I heard Shepard suppress a sneeze, followed by a dull thump and a curse. Then she whispered, "Hey Vakarian, why are we here, although we've sworn never ever to do airshafts again?"

I turned my head as good as I could in the confining space and answered in a hushed voice, "Only way to the lower vaults that won't have mercs immediately descending on us from two sides at once? Or do you think your little trick with the renegade YMIR will keep them off our backs forever? Relax, this isn't Peak 15. We'll have a hard time finding rachni in here."

"So you say," she murmured. "I also remember you said 'C'mon, Shepard, it's just a harmless airshaft. What could possibly happen?'"

I signed. "You will never let me live that one down, will you?"

"I had toxic barf inside my armor and two dozen tentacles almost impaled me, so... No."

"Alright. Next drinks on me?"

"Deal." She chuckled softly. "Poor Liara, I think she almost fainted when we crawled out."

I flexed my shoulder in a vain attempt to fight the cramps building up. My body was simply not meant to hunch down and crawl through narrow ducts. "And luck it was. I'm pretty sure she would have pulled the trigger otherwise."

"Yup. Not our best day."

"And still far from the worst. You know that's rather unsettling, right?"

"Aha. So now you're having a bad feeling about this, or what?"

"Let's not go there." I brushed a bead of sweat from my forehead. Either this was even more exertive than I thought or it was growing warmer in here. But, foot by foot we gained ground in the dark vent system that seemed to stretch endlessly into the belly of Kima District.

"Hey guys, are you alright back there?" Shepard asked in louder voice.

"Yes." Taylor answered. "Two mines left." The dark skinned Cerberus operative was bringing up the rear and planted some surprises for anyone mad enough to follow.

"Okay. Miranda, what about you? Miranda?"

"I'm fine." In contrast to Lawson's words, there was an unexpected nervous edge that did not quite fit with the cool aloofness she had displayed before.

"Perhaps you should tell…" Taylor started then got interrupted by the other Cerberus operative's hiss.

"Shht. This isn't the time, Jacob."

"Tell me what?" The Commander asked.

Another metallic clank; another mine adhered to the wall. "This is exactly the time and if you don't tell, I will," Taylor replied. "Commander, Miranda's claustrophobic."

Sometimes I seriously wondered why those things always happened to us.

"This just gets better and better," I heard Shepard mumble. Then she added, "Will you manage?"

"There's not much choice, wouldn't you say?"

"It will be okay," the Commander said in this soothing tone of which I wasn't completely sure if I wouldn't tick the other woman off completely. "Close your eyes, breathe evenly and stop thinking about our surroundings. Just… imagine this as some indoor obstacle course."

"I think there are lights ahead. Might be the exit." I said to the pitch-black darkness in front of me. Anything to keep a biotic from panicking and wreaking havoc in a 3 foot wide shaft just to get free.

"See? We're out in a blink."

"You don't need to mother me." Lawson's rebuke was pure acid. And lots of fear underneath.

"As you wish…" Shepard said, her voice suddenly flat. "Why don't you tell me instead about your date with some Collectors two years ago?"

This time it was my head that connected with the low ceiling. Collectors? I probably misheard.

"What? How? Oh. I swear one day… What has this blue space pirate told you?"

"Does it matter? How can I trust you if you keep lying to me?"

"Now? You really want to discuss this now?" Taylor muttered.

They ignored him. I could barely contain my surprise.

"I did not lie! It just wasn't affecting our mission right then, so it didn't seem important to mention," Lawson argued back.

"Not important?" Shepard hissed. "We're searching for Collectors, speculate about their very existence and you thought it wasn't important to mention that you already dealt with them? Are you fucking kidding me?" Her voice cracked with the effort of keeping low.

Something, her fist probably, hit the wall and I flinched at the noise echoing through the narrow space. I couldn't remember seeing her ever that furious and the more I learned about this Cerberus connection the less I wanted to play nice. I reached for the hilt of my knife, ready to throw it at the biotic at the faintest sheen of blue hitting my retina.

"I'm sorry, but it was not like you might believe," Lawson said with something that almost bordered remorse. "The Shadow Broker made a deal with them and Cerberus was there to prevent it. The Collectors had send just one transactor and its features were concealed by a cloak all the time. It was killed by an incineration grenade before I even got a closer look at it! Shepard, you know I've no interest in harming you!"

"Do I? Frankly, there's an awful lot which isn't like it should be these days..." she said resigned; her anger dissipated as quickly as it had arisen. "You know, you make it damn hard for me not to kill the lot of you and take off with the ship."

"Oh, you wouldn't dare…" Lawson began and I heard Shepard inhale sharply. Taylor cleared his throat and the dark haired woman resumed, "Please, it was never my intention to deceive you. We can talk more about this if we finally get out of this goddamn duct!"

I cleared my throat. "Sorry to interrupt you, but are we really talking about those Collectors? Like in Collectors, the myth?" Better to divide their attention before this argument left four more corpses in the vents. "When have you planned to fill me in on it, Shepard?"

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps as soon as five dozen bloodthirsty mercs stopped screaming for our heads? Well, congratulations. Vakarian; you're officially hired for the investigation of colonies abducted by creepy space insects."

"I guess there's no way for me to decline, friendly but strictly?"

"Nope."

"Well… I guess, it's hardly worse than a rogue Spectre controlled by an ancient machine, shooting for galaxy's domination."

"Uh-huh. I so missed your optimism. Have I mentioned that we suspect them to be in league with the Reapers?"

I let out a long breath. "Of course, I hadn't really assumed things would get any easier."

As if on cue, a feral howl reverberated through the tunnel, followed by the unmistakable scratching of claws raking across metal. Many claws. Vorcha. So they've found someone mad enough.

"Move! Taylor, arm the mines!" Shepard shouted.

"Negative! We're too close. We need to get out first or we'll be cooked in here!"

I skittered around a corner. Ahead a beckoning patch of light emerged from the dark. Finally.

"There's the exit!" I exclaimed and crawled faster. A sharp tug took hold of my left knee. Damn it. I rammed my shoulder against the grille, once, twice; 240 pounds of determined turian in heavy armor pushing for all his worth. With my third push, Shepard plowed into me and the metal gave way with a creak. So did my knee. Caught in the momentum we tilted over and crushed to the ground two feet below; her elbow jabbing me hard in the stomach. I gasped for air, then blinked to adjust my vision to the sudden illumination. Lawson jumped out of the air vent, followed by Taylor who pushed the detonator. A series of explosions banged through the ducts. Instinctively, I grabbed for the Commander's arm and rolled to the side, pulling her along, just as a jet of heat shot out from the opening.

I craned my neck. We had reached the entry of the lower vaults. To the left the room opened to a high-ceiled storage hall, to the right it narrowed down and gave way to one of Omega's numerous life-sustaining maintenance areas, all sealable through massive bulkheads. The one I saw was forced open. We were behind the mercs' lines, for whatever good it would do, now that we made our unobtrusive entry. Someone stirred in my arms.

What…?

"You can let me go now," Shepard said in a low, amused voice that turned into a groan in the end.

I looked down and stared at the Commander's neck; my body half-way hunched over her back out of an utterly inept reflex to protect. Wherever it had come from, it made me feel like the worst kind of idiot. Embarrassed I released her and scrambled to my feet, twisting my left leg to pop the joint of my knee back into place rather painfully. Since the incidence on Therum it had never been the same.

Shouts suddenly arose in the distance; closing in swiftly. So much for stealth. I darted towards the console that controlled this part of the area, located on the opposite wall of the air vent we fell out. It was as good a chance as any, and the steady illumination that poured from the lamps overhead proved that at least the power was back online. Shepard, Lawson and Taylor manned both sides of the bulkhead and sputtered bullets from the cover of the heavy iron frame.

"I think it's Jaroth with a team of techs and vanguards," Shepard exclaimed above bursts from Lawson's SMG.

"Of course. Too much to hope for that he had stayed close to the sabotaged YMIR and got the first volley up his sneaky ass." I punched in the codes to access the maintenance control. Nothing. Not even a little flash of one tiny LED.

I pushed away from the dead tech, drew my rifle – and the room behind me trembled with a deafening roar.

My head whipped around.

A flying beast of steel hovered above crates and racks at the other end of the hall. Then thundered closer.

It was Tarak. In a blasted gunship. Even at the distance I could recognize how the batarian's face contorted into a mask of hate and malicious joy.

He pulled the trigger.

Time froze.

I perfectly saw how the missile raced towards me. I wanted to move, but my body wouldn't react. Desperately, I dove to the side but it wasn't enough. At first I felt nothing, but then… blinding agony exploded on my right side. I howled. Fire. Every nerve ending in my body was consumed by fire. I dropped to the floor and couldn't even feel it.

Shepard.

An expression of horror slapped her face. And then she ran towards me. In my head I yelled at her to stay away; begged her to seek cover and save herself, but she still kept coming, as unstoppable as a force of nature.

Always too stubborn for your own good…

"Garrus!" She slid down to my side.

The world around me blurred. Pain numbed my mind. Fuzzy haze replaced thought. Was this movement? Suddenly the fair-haired Spectre reached out and grasped my head. Shouldn't I've felt her fingers on my face?

Will you snipe one for me as well, little vixen?

"Garrus? Garrus, stay with me, 'kay?" Her voiced sounded muffled, becoming distant, just as in a dream about to vanish. "Get you out in a min..."

A shadow moved at the edge of my vision. Creeping in. Reaching out with tendrils of black. Touching me. Was there laughter? Spirits!

I shivered. But why? I couldn't remember… Her eyes… so beautiful and widened with concern – why are they concerned? They hovered above me like twin emerald ponds and suddenly I knew: I was going to die, drowning in them like in a bottomless sea. And perhaps… Perhaps there was something like redemption after all.

The darkness roared and engulfed my mind.

~V~

No, no, oh, please, no… I chanted the denial in my head, over and over again, as I tried to fucking-somehow fix up the battered turian body. I had pulled Garrus to the side and behind some cover provided by a support column. Around us bedlam surged against my mind in a flood of shouts and gunfire.

I yanked off my gloves with my teeth and applied the medigel with both hands, frantically praying the human tailored fluid wouldn't trigger an anaphylactic shock that killed him right on the spot. Blood. There was so much blood. It leaked through my fingers, completely unimpressed by my efforts to contain it. Within seconds my hands looked as if dipped in blue ink up to the wrists.

It had been just a graze, but the missile had done its spectacular work. A huge portion of armor from the neck down to the chest had simply been ripped away and exposed the hardened silvery skin below to be scorched by the explosion. Pieces of chipped armor had been driven deeply, shredding the already seared flesh. And the face… At that point, I was almost glad about the blood obscuring the torn tissue.

I had seen people die from far less.

Mechanically, I focused on the task and pressed the first-aid bandages onto the biggest injury, all the while pretending it wasn't my friend who lay in front of me torn to shreds. In combination with the medigel, the gauze clogged into a solid layer, adhering to the wound's fringes. The gush of blood slowed down to a trickle. Still, there was already such a big blue puddle pouring out from under him, mocking all my endeavors.

Shepard: one; Omega: one gazillion.

I was going to lose one of the few friends I had allowed myself to have.

And from the depths of my mind a voice rose, reciting a piece of a conversation that had taken place a long, long time ago.

"I told you so, friends are a weakness. You start caring, and your enemies will be there to hurt them just to hurt you…"

An unfamiliar oppression grabbed my chest like a gigantic fist. Feelings, I usually kept wrapped up and hidden in the deepest recesses of my mind, welled up until they became an almost unbearable pressure.

He was slipping away.

And it hurt. It hurt so badly, I didn't even know where all this pain was coming from. I desperately needed a release but my eyes stung with dryness. My throat constricted as if caught in a garrote, trapping the painful pressure inside me. All I could do was staring at the motionless form of my friend.

At the ever so slight heaves of his chest.

Like pulled on a cord, I snapped back to reality. If there was any chance at all… We needed to get him out. Fast. Only minutes had passed since Tarak's attack and Taylor and Lawson were still busy with fighting two fronts at once; the remainders of Jaroth's vanguards and the Blue Suns' leader in his gunship. I snatched up the Mattock assault rifle I had borrowed from the mercs' supplies, jumped to my feet and swirled around.

This batarian asshole would get a nice head-start on his way to burn in hell.