Update notes: Phew, this one gave me troubles. Lots of fixes, mostly transition and dialogue. Tone and pacing felt off, especially the last third. So I clipped it and added a new POV to keep the more serious tone. Also want to show more of the canon char dev (which I personally like a lot); from master-padawanish in ME1, to friends and equals in ME2, to ME3 where Shep's finally the nutcase who needs a rock in the storm.

I will also clip the next chapter's lazy-ass intro and actually expand on the things happening in Shep's recap. More feel, more drama. They definitely have to suff-, ehm work, much harder to earn their little R&R. The universe has been too nice so far.

.

I'm not strong enough to stay away
Can't run from you
I just run back to you
Like a moth I'm drawn in to your flame,
Say my name, but it's not the same
You look in my eyes, I'm stripped of my pride
And my soul surrenders, and you bring my heart to its knees

And it's killing me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay
And I'm so confused, so hard to choose
Between the pleasure and the pain
And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right
Even if I try to win the fight, my heart would overrule my mind
And I'm not strong enough to stay away

Apocalyptica – Not strong enough

Chapter 21 ~ At the End of a Journey

"I have to admit, I'm curious. How does it feel to be the best informed and probably most feared person in the whole galaxy?"

Idly I tapped the top of a monitor, talons clicking while watching my dialog partner with an innocent expression. I mean, seriously. When did one get the chance to take a close look at the heart of the Shadow Broker's command center?

The asari wrinkled her nose. "You mean, how is it is to have all the knowledge at my fingertips, people would sell their old aged relatives for?" she replied dryly from her seat at the desk, surrounded by crates, terminals and the twenty monitors she had dragged onto the Normandy.

The blue skinned alien leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together to give such a close imitation to the cabin's previous owner – even down to the slightly aloof air and the close-fitting white combat suit – that I almost expected her to demand a status report on the ship's weaponry. Along with another offended lecture that I should stop damaging Cerberus property by tampering with the Main Battery's surveillance systems. Or else.

Instead some of the young archeologist suddenly broke through. "To be honest? It's exciting. I never thought that digging up information is so alike to digging up artifacts. Slowly but steadily you advance into the deep, strip away layer after layer, until you finally discover the truth – which unfortunately gives far too often a whole new meaning to the word 'dirty' in dirty secret."

I leaned in her direction. "Dirty secrets? I'm all game..."

The Shadow Broker cocked the slim dark line above her eye. "Sure, Garrus; information dealer rule number one: when in possession of valuable knowledge, just give it to the next handsome fellow you come across for free."

"That's… Wait. So you think I'm handsome?"

"Of course I do. I'm asari, we always appreciate people's inner beauty."

I rubbed the side of chin. "Ouch. Can't decide if I should feel flattered or insulted. Impressive, Dr. T'Soni."

The asari gave me an utterly smug smile. "I live and learn."

Yeah. Women were still women, even if they grew blue tentacles on their heads.

"By the way, have you found him? The man you ask me to look out for? You never told me."

My mirth vanished. Even though the sharp stab of loss and anger had dulled to some distant, almost forgotten ache, my voice became unexpected rough. "I did. But he was dead already."

"Oh. I hadn't… I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"Don't worry about it."

Silence stretched between us.

Her expression became serious. "Is there something else I can do for you? I sense you've not just come over to lure me into gossiping about the Consorts latest kinks, have you?"

I shifted in my armor, suddenly all too aware of the fresh battle stains still tarnishing the blue and silver plating. Maybe I really should have changed after boarding the Normandy. Then again, so far I hadn't even had the chance to drag my gear anywhere except out of the shuttle and into the hangar before rounded up first by James Vega and then by the new Primarch – who turned out to be a rather capable General named Adrien Victus – both trying hard to press me on my previous adventures with the Normandy and her illustrious commander. I had only escaped their curiosity because I'd fled here after Liara.

"Garrus? Are you alright?"

I shook myself. "Yeah. It's... I'm worried, Liara. About Shepard." What an understatement. Seeing her on Menae had been a shock. Back there I had wanted nothing more than to embrace her. To touch her face with mine. And yet… "She seems not like herself anymore." Cold. Ruthless. Alien.

The asari exhaled. "The past days have been very rough. And Kaidan…" her face twisted. "He's dead."

"What?" I sputtered, not believing the words I just heard. "How?"

"Cerberus."

Oh, that was just splendid. At least it explained some things.

"Their agents had infiltrated the Mars Archives. We intercepted their escape and when it became clear that Cerberus would not get the data, the Illusive Man gave the order to kill him…" she trailed off.

I clenched my jaw. That sick bastard.

"Will you look after her? Maybe she will talk to you."

"Of course. By the way, what's this business about the batarians?"

Liara sighed. "She did not tell you either?"

I shook my head. "Not much time for catch up so far, I'm afraid."

"The Alliance operated an undercover research station on an asteroid in the Bahak system. One of their operatives went missing and Shepard was send to investigate. On the way she uncovered that the artifact they studied on this station was of Reaper origin."

"Terrific. I can imagine how well that turned out."

The asari shifted on her seat. "Even worse. While on the station Shepard also learned that Bahak's relay had the ability to connect to dozens of relays at once – and the Reapers had almost reached Bahak. If she hadn't set the asteroid on the collision course… We've been this –" Liara held up her thumb and forefinger, "– short from an utter catastrophe. Just imagine; ten thousands of Sovereign class Reapers, catching all major systems by surprise."

I blinked. I was very much aware what the Sovereign had been capable of. None of our worlds would have survived an attack this sudden and large-scaled for long. "This cycle certainly would have been over awfully quick."

"Yes. Besides, I believe that destroying the relay has helped us more than just buying time."

I gave her a questioning look. "How so?"

"Without the Alpha Relay the Reapers had to keep on travelling by conventional means. It took them months to reach Arcturus. Even for them the energy drain must have been considerable. No matter how powerful, they are still bound by the laws of physics. And we know that their power source is not infinite."

"Think the trip has weakened them?"

"I truly hope so. Makes it a little easier to stomach the extinction of an entire system…"

I felt sick. Even my people's deeply ingrained catechism to place the good of many above the death of few made it hard to justify Shepard's actions. Over 300.000 casualties were one hell of a weight. How crushing must it be for her? For the Shepard, who had always fought so hard to save everyone?

Spirits.

I pushed away from the console, heaving a sigh. "Guess, I should go."

Liara's lips turned up into a faint smile. "Good luck, Commander."

.~'*'~.

I walked along the aisle leading to the Main Battery; my last equipment crate in hands. I had been looking for Shepard all over ship and when I realized she hadn't wanted to be found, I had decided to make myself useful and get my stuff out of the hangar instead.

I nodded towards Dr. Chakwas, sitting at her desk in the Med Bay. It had definitely been nice to spot a few familiar faces among the Normandy's new crew; especially the Doc and Lieutenant Adams.

I stepped into the Main Battery. And I knew I wasn't alone the moment the automatic door closed behind me. Right. There on the workbench the Commander sat; too absorbed in studying the data pad in her hands to notice me; the telling scent of coffee steaming off the blue Alliance-branded mug that had betrayed her presence.

So far she hadn't changed out of her combat gear either. The Normandy was once more flying Alliance colors and so was she; the red and dark grey armor of her special unit so eerily similar to the one she had worn when we met that day on the Presidium. And yet so different, its lack of wear and tear completely belying the battles she had seen.

We are not who we used to be…

I chased off the grim thought and put the bulky crate down beside the workbench. I sneaked up a glance. The odd, pale human hair of hers seemed a good hand's breadth longer than I remembered, almost falling past her too fragile collarbone.

As if suddenly aware of being watched, Shepard stirred with a minuscule start and looked at me. A tiny smile played on her reddish human lips. The scar from Tuchanka bisected her left brow and bestowed her face with a roguish touch. Mhmm. She set down the pad.

"Hey…"

"Hey," I replied and straightened from my crouch, trying to peer at her eyes without being obvious. No evil, alright. She just looked tired. Had I been imagining things? "I heard there is going to be a war summit with the very heads of turian, salarian AND krogan military. I have to say, it just never gets boring with you."

"Just trying to keep you on your toes."

"Sure you are. I hope Victus isn't giving you too much trouble?"

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "No. Actually, the Primarch is surprisingly agreeable. For a turian," she added dryly. "You know him?"

"Not personally. I heard of him, though. His methods aren't always by the book, but he's a get-the-job-done kind of guy. In that we're lucky not to be stuck with Fedorian. He is… he was a difficult man."

"He was a friend of your father, right?"

I nodded. "He was. But I know as well as you that traditional warfare won't stand a chance against the Reapers. Unorthodox on the other hand… Unorthodox might at least give us the chance to drag some of those bastards down with us."

"Hell, I surely missed your optimism, Vakarian."

I shrugged. "I'm turian. We always try to look at the bright side of defeat."

She stifled a laugh. It filled me with relief. So somewhere deep inside there still was the Shepard I knew.

"Alright, Shepard, I just have to ask," I pointed with my thumb back over my shoulder towards the doors. "How come that a shiny synthetic with overdeveloped boo– ehm, attributes strolled out the Med Bay and greeted me in EDI's voice?"

She took a sip of her coffee, then carefully set the mug down. "Uhh, that's Cerberus' notion of an infiltration unit. We caught the thing messing with the Mars Archives. It tried to run off with the data and… and here it is. It was EDI's idea to put it to good use."

I felt my face freeze. Damn it, Liara. Would it have hurt to add this crucial piece of info? "Infiltration. Right. And what exactly is this unit supposed to infiltrate? A night club?"

She pulled up one of her shoulders. "Look at me; it's hardly their most grotesque project."

I snorted. "Yeah, I bet Jeff is dancing a jig. Did he knew of this idea?"

"I certainly hope for him he didn't," she growled. "The ship was temporarily offline until EDI assumed complete control."

She grimaced at her own choice of words. Then her expression shifted into something dreadful, her voice no more than a soft hush.

"Kaidan's dead." Avoiding my gaze the Commander stared at her empty hands.

"I know…"

I stepped over and wrapped my arms around her.

~V~

The turian's sudden touch sent a sensory shock through my whole body – and it had nothing to do with the fact that my ribs were still hurting like fuck.

Holding my breath I stiffened, franticly trying to stuff all those conflicting feelings back into the dark box where they had crawled out, but they just kept pushing and pushing, as forceful and relentless as a spring tide.

"Shepard… I'm so sorry…" Garrus said and the words were humming inside his chest; humming through our armor and inside me so painfully good, as they burned a slow path through the choking grief the memory of Kaidan's death had uprooted.

My arms slipped around the marksman, his armored chest touching mine with a soft clunk. Just underneath the terribly annoying barrier he would be warm. Warm and strong and male and solid. Garrus' embrace tightened and while loss and joy were still fighting in my head for emotional supremacy, my body betrayed me. Face pressed against the spot between his shoulder and collarbone, I released a long breath against the hard composite material of his armor. Then inhaled his earthen scent mixed with the harsh smell of dried husk-blood and used heatsinks. Unable to hold up the tension any longer, I surrendered to the peace.

It was like finally coming home after an endless journey.

I bit back an embarrassing sob and held on, as frantic as if his embrace was the only sane thing left in this godforsaken universe.

Maybe it was.

He is still here… Alive…

A small treacherous voice whispered from a deeply fatalistic corner of my mind. There was an undeniable truth in those words, and oh, how I hated myself for them. It didn't matter that it was the same voice which had made me turn my back on New York. That let me survive on Akuze. That had time and again defied the tempting pull of the relieving nothingness while I lay on Miranda's table, more rotten meat than living being.

Vanguard. Ever push forward. Never look back.

Garrus shifted until his mouth brushed my temple. Much needed warmth cascaded down my spine, my fingers seeking desperately for purchase in the gaps of the heavy turian armor before moving along the edges to find the clasps.

I was vanguard. With every cell and every breath of my being – and it made me feel like a fucking traitor.

"Forgive me…" Garrus suddenly mumbled against my hairline. "But I fear I'm… hmm…a bit at a loss what the human protocol says for reunions like this."

Easy. You grab the girl and kiss her like you mean it.

"You –" The rest got stuck in my throat.

The armor protecting his torso clattered to the deck. I barely registered it.

HE WILL DIE IN PAIN.

Like the vision on Menae, the thought struck at me with sheer overpowering clarity. And this time its red-hazed brutality overthrew all reason, all mental guards; crushing down on me like a smothering avalanche of dread. My chest constricted as if squeezed by a giant's fist.

If he stayed with me, he would die. It was that simple.

On the outside world the turian had gotten rid of his bracers and heavy gloves. Calloused palms slid down my waist. Panic surged.

I had to make him leave! Force him to walk away! I had to –

My body apparently begged to differ. Hard-skinned lips nipped a trail along my cheek and on instinct I threw back my head for better access, while urging my middle closer towards him. Ah yes. No intelligent life here.

"Stop. You have to stop," I managed with a breathless groan, despite that the feel of his rough tongue licking my neck was flooding me with heat.

Mayday.

"Garrus!" I struggled away from him; about as successful as an addict running from her fix. I knocked over my mug, spilled coffee flooding the countertop.

He let go and I slid down the workbench. Quickly.

Worry etched his features. "You're sending confusing signals. Are you alright?"

"Yes. No! I'm not. I… cannot do this, Garrus. I'm sorry…" I looked anywhere but at him. "It's not going to work."

"How will you know?" He asked, gently tilting up my chin so I had to look at him.

I stared into the stony alien face that had become so familiar to me. From hard grayish skin plates and blue angular patterns of clan markings, their clean lines only disrupted by the ragged scar tissue covering one side of his face; to ice-blue eyes that pierced straight into my soul with their goddamn intensity.

I jerked my head away from his touch, trying not to think how good it would feel to snake my hands under his blue shirt and drag my fingers over the tender skin of his hard-muscled abdomen… Arrg!

"It's madness, Vakarian," I finally replied in defense while backing off in the only possible direction, deeper into the room and closer to the ship's main guns. Boy, I sounded like a broken record. My voice hardened. "And if you would think about it for more than just two bloody seconds, you would realize it too."

"Someone once told me that madness is merely a matter of perspective." And then, "You're afraid," he stated and I wasn't sure if it was meant to assure or mock me. Maybe a bit of both.

"My fears are irrelevant." And now I sounded just like Miranda. Unbefuckinglievable.

He took a step in my direction. "Oh, so that's it, yes? The great Commander Shepard: facing death, Reapers, Collectors, maws, rachni – all without blinking an eye – but too scared to give us even the chance to try?"

"Dammit, Garrus! There is no fucking chance and you know it!" I spat and tried to retreat further but my back brushed against the rail. That was okay. Cornered I was only harder to kill.

"Really? Then why don't you just say it? Look at me and tell me that all what happened between us means nothing to you," the turian growled; his voice low and full of disharmonies. Then he started to close in on me.

"Stay. Back."

He ignored me and it fanned my ire into a red hot blaze. Needles prickled underneath my skin, frantically seeking release in a biotic outburst.

"This is an order, Soldier!" I hissed, sinking in as much command as I could while forcing my biotics to stand down.

He hesitated for a split second, his undamaged mandible twitching once. Another step. Goddammit!

"I warn you, Vakarian… Stop pushing me!"

"Or what? Are you going to have my insubordinate ass?" He asked maliciously smooth, never breaking his advance. "Go ahead, Commander. I think I might even enjoy it." Then he halted; close enough to block my way.

Close enough to…

"Say it, Shepard. Say that it means nothing. That –" His hand darted forward, the back of his calloused fingers hovering over the side of my face with the barest contact. "– when I touch you, physical sensation is all you feel..."

God… fucking help me.

I battered his hand away and craned my neck to look straight into his icy eyes. "I feel nothing," I spat, but oh, how the words twisted my little pathetic heart. "Fucking nothing!"

My fist went for his chest before I even knew it.

"You lie." He caught my hand unnaturally fast, a predator's piercing blue gaze pinning me down. "I want to know why."

Oh yeah, that went well. Straight into the lake of incompetence.

Not trusting what would come out of my mouth next, I merely glared back. Maybe if I stared hard enough I could still force him into submission.

Instead… his stony expression softened up. "Please."

I opened my mouth – and closed it again. What was I supposed to tell him? That I was having these frighteningly real visions? Heard voices in the night whispering of destruction and death of everyone and everything I ever cared for?

That I was losing my goddamn mind?

Or worse: that I perfectly knew what it all meant?

"No. You don't understand. You need –"

"Then help me to." He slipped his hand into mine, three claw-tipped digits fitting strangely natural against my five. "Don't do this, Shepard. Don't shut me out. Please. Ivy..."

It felt odd, hearing him say my name. My real name. I've been Shepard, the dutiful, ever functioning soldier for so long I could hardly recall being Ivy anymore. The only who still called me like this – who still remembered the other me – was Anderson and… well, Kaidan…

The Alliance. The Council. Cerberus. Ever since waking in that cursed lab they showed me time and again that to them Shepard was nothing but a mean to an end. A convenient tool – useful, sure – but a tool nonetheless. If the tool broke, it broke. You didn't mourn, you didn't pause. You just moved on to the next, and no second thoughts wasted.

Fuck me. Reaper invasion or not, I so had it to the limit, I was very tempted to flip the whole galaxy off and just go fishing.

Except… I watched the turian watching me. Regardless that my life was a fucked-up mess, he somehow still cared. For Shepard, the soldier. And for Ivy, the deranged lunatic.

Which is all the more reason to keep him away from you, remember?

Oh the irony, indeed.

I focused on some distant point behind him, wiggling my hand out of his grip. So I was a coward. Sue me.

"I have this… dream," I finally began, dragging out the words. "It started after the Collector station. At first I thought it was merely the way my psyche was dealing with the things I've seen – but then the dream kept coming back. Changing. Remember all those cocoons? Well, in one of them was a woman. Dead, but not like the other abducted colonists. She wasn't a husk either. She looked different; in that weird hybrid-kind-of-way. I dream of her, but it's not this woman I'm seeing. It's me, turned into a horrible blend of human flesh and Reaper tech. Like Saren was." I paused. "Then I wake up, and I swear I can still feel the cold metal breaking through my skin. The implants drilled into my brain. My body is hurting in phantom pain and deep down in my heart I know it's not a dream at all…"

I forced my gaze back to Garrus, the i-word hanging between us like freaking curse.

I pushed the rest out before he could reply; my voice a hoarse whisper. "I cannot allow you to get any closer, Garrus, and wanna know why? Because before this is over someone might have to find the courage to put a bullet in my head…"

I expected him to protest. To recoil. He did none of it.

Instead, the sniper's other hand slid up my neck to cup the side of my head, thumb caressing my cheekbone. Efficiently keeping me from avoiding his gaze once more.

"You're not like him," he finally said, flanging syllables hardened by determination. "Saren was a sadistic asshole, lured along by the promise of even more power. He chose to become the Sovereign's slave. You don't. You fight. He didn't. Saren gave in to the indoctrination long before the Sovereign even started to take over. Never forget that."

Oh, Garrus. The world is still just black and white for you, isn't it?

"And what if fighting isn't enough…"

He regarded me for a frighteningly long moment. "It changes nothing."

I pried his fingers away from my face. And yet I couldn't bring myself to let go of his hand. So pathetic. "Dammit, Garrus. Haven't you been listening at all? A Reaper is fucking with my mind!"

"Trust me, I have." His expression turned thoughtful. "But ask yourself: would they really allow you be aware of it? To even think that particular line of thought?"

His words gave me pause. Maybe he was right. "Maybe this is exactly what they want me to believe…"

In a flash the stubborn set of his jaw was back. "In any way, it's not making a difference."

"If this is about Ilos –"

"It's not about the things I said, Shepard."

No. It was about the things he felt. Which was much much worse.

I groaned in frustration. "What about Victus? Or the others?" I exclaimed, grasping wildly for any straw. "This is no longer some renegade action running underneath everybody's radar, Mr. Reaper Advisor. We're visible now. Your people look up to you. Tell me, Garrus, exactly how much respect will they have for some human-fucking pervert?" I asked in only partially faked scorn. "Or do you think you can keep it hidden; turn me into your dirty secret?"

Talons dug almost painfully into the back of my hand, yet I doubted the turian was aware of it. He actually looked afflicted.

"I will not hide anything. Not from them or anyone," he growled. "I've paid my tribute to the Hierarchy on the battlefield over and over again; fighting, killing and shedding my blood for their cause more times than I even care to remember – so believe me, their opinion on my personal life is about the last thing I give a fucking damn about."

"And your family? Don't you care about their opinion either?"

"Point taken. Let's avoid mentioning any Spectre business and we'll be all set."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "It's still that easy for you, isn't it? Punish the criminal, and to hell with all the consequences."

Suddenly his fingers relaxed. He leaned in and then his forehead brushed against mine. He exhaled slowly.

"No, it's not," he admitted. After a pause he added, "Look, there will always be something that tries to stand in our way – but we spot it, fight it and then we kill it. And after this, something different will come along and we'll take it out as well."

"And then what? You think we can keep fighting the odds forever?"

"No. Then we go home."

I let go of my breath. Felt the warmth of his rough skin seeping into my cold cells.

Going home with him.

The notion triggered a fatal yearning buried so deeply within me, I hadn't even realized it existed.

I had been on my own almost as long as I could remember. Had learned the hard way that trust was a gift better kept to yourself. It had never bothered me that, when I dragged my aching, battle-worn body back in by the end of the day, my cot was always empty. I've been content with the course my life had taken – in a twisted, self-preserving way, but still content.

And then I died – and the comforting calm I used to find in solitude was gone. Instead there was just this oppressive feel of deprivation. It's the moment you suddenly realize you're lonely – and that it's eating you up. You try to fight the feeling, but the more you struggle the deeper you sink. You try to soothe the silent hurt; to fill up the emptiness, but the closer you let someone, the brighter the need for proximity burns.

I closed my eyes with a sigh, my body aching from far more than just the recent combat and the severe lack of sleep.

I wanted this. Despite Harbinger, the war and the collective contempt of both our people. I wanted it so badly, it was killing me.

One way or the other.

"You have it all figured out, Vakarian, haven't you?" I finally brought out, resting one palm against the turian's shirt-covered chest. Then pushed him just far enough away to get a look at his face.

"Well, maybe not all of it," Garrus admitted. "But, as you see, I'm still here and willing to try." He chuckled and rubbed the scarred side of his chin. "Guess, we simply have to figure out the rest as it comes."

"Just like always, huh?"

"Just like always."

That much rock-solid conviction was more than I could take at the moment. I pulled away. I would sort this out somehow.

"Yeah, well, I… I should go. The war summit is in three hours. I need a shower and to prepare... things." Oy. Commander Shepard, Master of Evasion.

The turian stopped my getaway with a snort. "You're going to have Wrex and the Dalatrass at one table. No matter how prepared you think you are, they will bristle and bitch at every possible suggestion of cooperation just by principle. What you need is a clear mind. Be diplomatic. Shooting one or both of them accidentally is not going to cut it. You know, interspecies incident and all?"

I threw up my hands. "For god's sake, I kill things for a living. What can the likes of me possibly know about diplomacy?"

"My words exactly. When was the last time you slept, anyway?"

"Thanks, but I'm fine, Doc." Boy, was that a lie.

"Wrong answer, Shepard."

I exhaled. Long and slowly. Part exasperation and part dread. Uhg.

"Look," Garrus added, after mustering me and my distress. "I've some work to do anyway, so… Why don't you just catch some shut eye here and I promise to wake you if something important pops up. Deal?"

I eyed the cot pushed against the wall to my right, across the workbench. Sleeping in his bed. Sure, how bad could it possibly be?

"Okay. Deal. But just a few minutes."

Exhaustion began to drag heavily on me as soon as the admittance left my mouth. Maybe I needed that rest a little more than expected. I shuffled towards the camp bed, unbuckling the chest protector of my armor. I sat it down next to the cot, boots, bracers and greaves following suit, then stripped out of the aramid enforced fatigues leaving me with a tight gray spandex longsleeve and matching pants. I pulled the shirt over my head, remembering in the middle of it that I wasn't alone. I looked back over my shoulder and at a turian, who had apparently lost all interest in whatever work he had claimed to have.

"What?" I arched a brow at him.

"Don't you think it's a little bit too late for modesty?" he asked, shooting me a grin full of pointy teeth.

I looked down, and at the shirt in front of my chest. I rolled my eyes then threw a ball of shirt in his direction, using the moment of distraction to peel out my pants and crawl under the thin military-grade blanket. Garrus chuckled and turned back to the Main Battery's console.

I tugged at the blanket. Just short powernap to catch my breath. Then shower, dress up, checking Liara's notes on the Dalatrass… A yawn cracked my jaws. Somehow it was a nicely reassuring notion that I could watch him whenever I opened my eyes.

"Garrus?"

"Yeah?"

"Hey… would you… stay with me for a moment?"

"Sure."

He walked over and sat down on the deck next to me. I wiggled closer to the edge of the narrow bed, then reached out and caressed the scarred side of his face, the destroyed tissue almost soft under my fingertips. Making blue eyes regard me with their unfathomable depth.

I pulled my hand away and swallowed, the same old fears wrapping their tendrils around my throat once more. Then I said, "The thing is, no matter what we do, no matter how hard or clever we fight, there will be the day when one of us won't return… and it scares me, Garrus. Like nothing ever had."

"You shouldn't worry so much, Shepard. We will be okay."

"But how can you believe this? No wait, scratch that. How can you even say it? You know we're going to fuck up rather sooner than later."

The turian shrugged. "Hmm. Maybe that's because whatever happens, I know I will meet you again in heaven – and I heard they got a terrific bar over there."

"Heaven..." I stifled a yawn. "You realize the only way we're going to get there is through bombing those shiny gates open, right?"

"Maybe," he replied, voice playful and smooth, and yet laced with a smoldering intensity underneath. "But guess what: heaven or hell, there is no one in this blasted universe I'd rather storm their gates with."

Oh god.

He finally did it. With the back of my hand I quickly rubbed at the treacherous wet about to stain my face. I was in so deep, I would never find the surface again.

I forced out a laugh, but my voice was husky. "Oh… wow… So you do know how to melt a girl's heart."

He winked at me. "Never said I didn't. But a guy has to keep his secrets."

"Aha. Lemme guess. For the air of dashing mystery and intrepid valor?"

Suddenly he leaned forward, so close I felt his breath tickling my cheek. "Mm-hmm," he mumbled with that blasted almost-purr, causing a spike of anticipation to shot through me. "You think you know me so well…"

Stiff lips nipped at the corner of my mouth, and pulled back before I had the chance to react.

"Get some rest, Commander," he said, rising.

"That's an order, Vakarian, or what?" I asked, my badassness somewhat spoiled by another half-suppressed almost-yawn.

"Yeah."

I snorted, but fatigue was already prowling on the outskirts of my mind, tugging heavily on my lids. That shower probably just would have to wait a bit. I closed my eyes with a sigh, listening to the turian's soft mutters.

Calibrations, huh?

Yet, for the first time in long I felt… less broken.

Safe.

It was a lie but still… Sweet dreamless sleep rolled over me.

~V~

Standing at the Main Battery's console, I kept clicking through the settings more out of habit than actual need for information.

EDI had already imparted that the profiles and setups we had worked out during our Cerberus tenure hadn't been tampered with. The Normandy's armament was as deadly as ever. There was actually a lot less to calibrate than I let everyone believe, but it was an excellent way to focus my thoughts. And it worked better than any 'Do not disturb' notice.

From my left came a soft female sigh as the Commander shifted on the field cot, wrapping herself deeper into the blanket. My mandibles twitched. I just couldn't help it but there was something infinitely cute about the way she slept. Now if that wasn't a suicidal thought…

I pushed away from the terminal, fished out a cloth and a small bucket from the maintenance locker next to the door and started to wipe up the spilled coffee from the workbench. Mh-hmm. Admittedly, this was not exactly how I had expected our reunion to proceed.

Garrus Vakarian, you are a dirty man.

I released a long breath and tossed the wet cloth into the bucket. Of course I worried; I had always felt somewhat protective about her. At first because I had agreed to follow her command and that was what my training had instilled into me. It was not until Feros, though that it became personal. Maybe it was the sight of the kick-ass, larger-than-life human Spectre bleeding her life out and into the dusty ruins. Maybe the utter conviction with which she expected us to leave her behind to die.

In anyway, even without knowing much about human psychology, I knew enough about Shepard's to recognize that she was struggling with a massive stress disorder. Which was bad enough in itself, considering that being brought back from the dead hadn't rattled her this much. As for the rest…

Someone might have to find the courage to put a bullet in my head.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Yeah. Over my dead ass maybe.

Back when hunting for Saren we had inevitably speculated a lot about the mechanics of indoctrination – especially after meeting Benezia – and all evidence pointed at two deciding factors: time and proximity. I understood her fear; but from a clinical point of view it seemed unlikely that there had been enough exposure.

I mean, even though Saren had entered their deal voluntarily, the physical proximity to Sovereign must have been crucial; at least at some point. Otherwise the Reaper could have just as well stayed hidden, leaving all of us none the wiser to their actual appearance until it would have been too late. Why else give up such a tactical advantage?

Unless… unless the Reapers were so certain about their absolute supremacy that they just didn't give a fuck, of course.

With a shudder I started unpacking my equipment. Damn, this was neither healthy nor helpful. I fished out my toolbox and shifted clothes, vanity kit, emergency rations and spare parts until I had one crate packed with weapons and ammo to go back to the Armory in the hangar. I kept a Carnifex and two knives and put them on the workbench. You never know.

Content with my arrangement so far, I sat down on the crate containing my spare armor. I opened up my omni-tool and typed in a short message to my father, telling him I was alright, but no longer on Menae.

I looked up. "EDI?" I asked quietly as not to disturb Shepard. "Can you relay the message with the next batch of outgoing communication?"

The radio in my visor clicked alive with the AI's melodious voice. "Of course. Shall I encrypt it with our Alliance priority authorization? The message will be processed faster than by using your personal clearance."

"Are we even allowed to do that?"

"No. But the Commander entitled each Crew member to a contingent of three private messages, provided they won't contain any critical or compromising information."

"I see. Yes please."

"Confirmed. Also, we are approaching our rendezvous point. ETA in 40 Minutes. The krogan and salarian ships are already in place. Radio chatter indicates that some vessels have started to trade insults. You might want to prepare accordingly."

"Thank you, EDI."

I stood up to wake the Commander.

This was going to be one hell of a war summit.

~V~

"Well, at least it didn't go all bad,"

I said through gritted teeth while watching how the Dalatrass stomped out of the Normandy's conference room, back towards her waiting shuttle, turian Primarch looming at her side. Short by salarian standards, she barely topped my own meager height – and made up for every missing inch with her attitude instead. From the way Victus' shoulders slumped, he was clearly at the receiving end of another royal hussy fit. He must have been using all of his gritty charms to keep the Dalatrass from running back here and commit bloody homicide. A remarkable job considering the situation.

Unfortunately it also meant that Earth would see no salarian ships fighting against the Reapers.

The reaction from across the conference table was reduced to a low, derisive grunt.

Krogans. I rolled my eyes, tugging at the cuffs of my formal uniform. Bah, so much for diplomacy. Things had keeled over so quickly, I doubted that my neat attire and the shiny service medals had been of any help at all. Just as well I could have stood here covered in dirty rags. I brushed an imaginary spot from the medal they gave me after Akuze. In a way it felt nice that they had evaded the fate of my apartment and outlasted in a box on Anderson's book shelf. Even nicer that I had found the box along with my weapons, a set of brand-new N7 gear and the rest of my meager possessions in a storage crate among the Normandy's cargo. So the Vancouver commission had planned to install me on the ship once more – small comfort it was now that they were all dead.

And you thanked it by failing them. Intentionally. How many more will die, just because you choose to soothe your own guilty conscience instead of standing up for the very people you've sworn to protect?

I bit the inside of my lip. No. The genophage was wrong. Even Victus had admitted it. Seeking a cure was the right choice. The only choice. The Dalatrass and her armada could rot in hell.

Growling something unintelligible at his omni tool, Wrex suddenly pushed away from the table and bestowed me with a scrutinizing look.

I shrugged. "What? No dead bodies left behind. I don't know about you but where I'm from that's supposed to be on the plus side."

He pulled back his lips, showing me a mouthful of crooked shark teeth. "Yuck."

I frowned at the krogan. "Yuck? Are you having a stroke? What happened to 'thank you Shepard for convincing the Dalatrass to let us approach Sur'Kesh without being shot down immediately'?"

The leader of Clan Urdnot wrinkled his already furrowed face. "You reek of turian."

Why, why me?

"You humans have no decency."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Seriously, Wrex? A lecture about decency? It's your people that drag scale-itch even to the most civilized corners of Citadel space!"

The old krogan snorted and pointed one fleshy index finger at me. "You try sharing a habitable zone the size of a shoebox with slobbering beasts that have nothing on their minds than filling every cavity they can find."

"Oh, c'mon Wrex. You krogans don't slobber that much."

He barked up a laugh.

"So, just between you and me," I hurried to add. Quickly, before this conversation would enlighten me on things better left in the dark. "What exactly is it we're supposed to pick up from that research base? I'm afraid it didn't come up between 'I'm not your junkyard varren' and 'you're going to regret that'."

"Females."

"Females? As in krogan females?" I tried to picture a female krogan, but all my stupid mind offered was the ridiculous image of Wrex in a sundress.

"Exactly. Ever heard of a salarian named Maelon Heplorn?"

A lie, Shepard, quick.

"Uhh…"

He waved it off. "Never mind. I don't know why, but Heplorn was working on a cure for the genophage. Made a deal with Weyrloc Guld and bunked down in an old hospital. Had they succeeded, Guld and his lot would have gained dominion over the other clans from now till doomsday come. Had it probably all already planned out, the worthless hemorrhoid growing on the ass end of a pyjak. One day, though, rumors begun to spread. Rumors that spoke of experiments instead of a cure. Seemed like their little operation had gotten completely out of control. And then, just out of the blue, someone decided to put an end to Heplorn's 'research'," the krogan finished with a pointed look for me.

I merely arched a brow at him. "Pissing on the parade of about every krogan in the galaxy. Gutsy." No, this wasn't even within a mile of gutsy. It was in its own little universe that had a big fat 'insane' smeared all over it.

"Heh. You have no idea. Heplorn, he was a butcher. The things he did with our females were beyond vindication. He needed to be put down, and none of us would show the quads to stop him. Not as long as there was still the slightest chance of success. However bloody..."

Wrex trailed off, studying and flexing his paw-like hands. Then he resumed idly,

"Now, Shepard, I just can't help wondering. Three bullets. One in the head, one in the heart and one through the vocal cords, just to be sure. STG classics. See, this hospital, it's close to bordering Urdnot territory. So what are the odds that the Council sends not only a Spectre but also a STG team to the same area in bumfuck nowhere – at the same time?"

Slitted, reptilian eyes regarded me with the impassive cool of a relentless predator. If he decided that I betrayed him, he would kill me. Without a second thought, without losing much sleep about it. He would snuff out my life, here and now, utterly indifferent to the consequences.

And just like that we were back on Virmire, staring into each other's eyes over the barrel of a gun. It scared the living daylight out of me, so I laughed it in the face.

"Wrex, to the Council I was still dead at that time. Technically, I haven't even been a Spectre then. Not to forget that I was # quite busy avoiding to end as maw-chow."

The krogan kept staring at me.

Subduing the reflex to run, I stared back unblinking. After another eternity the clan chief nodded.

"I see," Wrex finally said and added something in his native language that sounded suspiciously like a curse rolled into a derisive snort. "Can't believe I'm sayin' this. Age must have softened my... Hmm… well, in retrospect that someone might have done us a favor. What good is a cure that robs us of even the last shred of our honor. Right?"

I could only nod.

Everybody's changing. Even him.

The krogan cleared his throat. "Anyway, I thought you should be aware of this. I mean, in case you ever… come across something. Being a Spectre and all," he finished with a wry grimace.

"Not anymore, but yeah. I'll… keep it in mind. Just in case," I replied, eying him carefully.

This was a trap, wasn't it?

"Good."

"Good." I replied and we stared at each other for another fateful moment. "What happened with the hospital after Heplorn's demise?"

Wrex' expression soured. "Guld. Turned out he wasn't quite as stupid about this as I thought. Never told anyone their location, so nobody knew where to look when he stopped checking in. Then, merely two weeks after you left, my scouts spotted some unusual activities during their border patrol. I sent a team but by the time they arrived, every data carrier, printout or sample that could have been of use had been cleared out. Thoroughly. For us they left only the dead. The slowly rotting corpses of Heplorn, Guld and a bunch of Weyrloc guards. All neatly lined up and all a little more than two weeks dead. Still had my men search the building and in the basement they found dozens of dead females. We assumed that no one survived the experiments."

"But some did…"

"Yeah. Some did. And you and I, we are taking them home."

~V~

" – and third, I want you to tell them that if they'd harmed the females in any way, I'm going to rip out their livers through their cloaca and let them watch while I feed it to the varren. Do you hear me, Shepard?"

"Loud and clear, Wrex!" The pale haired Commander yelled back towards the upset krogan in front of our shuttle, then turned to the salarian scientist waiting for her and Liara at the stairs' landing. "Clan Urdnot much appreciates your cooperation."

"No!" the krogan next to me barked loud enough to make my ears ring and have the three salarians at the other end of the landing pad tighten their grip on their leveled Avengers. "We don't!"

"Yah. That's a relief," the brown-skinned salarian replied to Shepard, not even the slightest twitch giving away his thoughts. He was as much in control of himself as he was of this facility. "If you will please follow me…"

Liara in tow, they made their way across the forecourt leading towards a nondescript sidewing attached to the sprawling hospital complex that clung to the gentle slopes of the lush valley behind.

It was my second visit in just as many months and the warm humidity seemed to haven't changed one bit. Sur'Kesh wasn't big on seasons this close to the equator. I lifted my head. Smelled the rich vegetation on the soft wind. The clouds were breaking after an earlier rain shower, a stray ray of yellowish sun light peeking through to warm my face. I would have rather avoided the trip, but then I would have been forced to explain, and Shepard already had enough on her plate to worry about.

At least this time we would be picking up more than just ashes.

Mood subdued, I leaned against the shuttle. The old Battlemaster kept cursing around, until the three guards shifted their feet. According to their uniform they belonged to the regular hospital staff. They looked young and were clearly out of their element here. Yeah. It didn't surprise me much that STG had the guts to hide their medical base in plain sight.

Casually my gaze ran over the perimeter. Some of the real guards chatted idly next to a stack of crates down the stairs and 20 paces ahead.

One of them lifted his hand in greeting first to Shepard and Liara, then to us.

I squinted and waved back. "Kirrahe? You see that, Wrex? Explains why we haven't been nuked immediately after your stunt with the shuttle."

"Don't worry," he muttered under his breath. "They wouldn't have anyway."

I looked sideways at the old krogan. "How's that?"

He spared glance for the guards, the lowered his voice even more. "My contact. He's already preparing everything for the transfer."

"Your… what? So why bother with this show at all?"

Wrex scarred face twisted into a grimace that could qualify as a grin. "Well, just look at them. Worked up all their guts to keep the big bad angry krogan in check. I'm not going to disappoint those kids. You think I'm a heartless monster?"

"They could have shot you by accident."

He shrugged. "Professional risk."

"Hey! No talking!" One of the guards shouted.

The Battlemaster snarled in reply and made a thrusting and grappling motion with his right fist. The young salarian blanched and jumped at least two paces backwards.

Right. We wouldn't want to disappoint. "You're an ass, you know that?"

"Careful. You might actually learn something, turian."

I snorted. "Mhm. And what's with the 'krogan airdrop'?"

"Heh. That was just for the fun of it. You should try it some time."

"Why does everybody assume I'm suicidal?"

He sniffed. "Like master, like horde…" he trailed off.

I followed his gaze. Shepard and Liara emerged from the elevator across the landing pad and behind them a stately moving figure covered head to knees in a blue and golden robe. One.

"Where… where are the others?" Wrex demanded heatedly, yet something was off in the cadence of his rumbling voice.

My gaze found the Commander's. She shook her head, her eyes sad.

So much for the ashes.

Behind them trailed another familiar figure. Mordin?

No wonder his donations had bought us a spot in this very hospital. Another very obvious piece clicked into place. My mother had told me about that nice singing Doctor that had visited her once or twice but I would have never…

Fighting a wave of grief, I dragged my hand over my face, relieved that everybody was too busy with genuinely upset Wrex and the female krogan to notice me and my moment of misery.

Well. Almost everybody. "Garrus?"

I exhaled slowly then looked up to find Liara across from me. I waved her concern aside.

"All fine. I just remembered… Never mind. I'll ready the shuttle."

She nodded. "Let me know if I can help."