Lazarus Shunned

by Two-Eyed Charlie

Cerberus has spent billions of credits trying to bring Shepard back from the dead, and despite the odds it seems to be working. Then a saboteur makes his move and Shepard's resurrection takes a horrific turn, leaving both the Alliance and Cerberus scrambling to control the situation...all while the Collectors begin their harvest of humanity [PREFERRED EDITION ON AO3]

37. Chapter 36: No Matter Where You Go Prt I

Chapter 36: No Matter Where You Go, There You Are: Part I

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"Of All the Omega Mercs, Garrus Was the Best"

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Then…

Through the hum of the SSV Normandy's cargo hold—through the rattling of the tools on Ashley Williams' workstation, the stomping of Urdnot Wrex's feet, to the bickering of the Procurement Officer tucked away just there, just in the corner—Shepard walked towards her target.

She reached him just as he was extricating himself from the underside of the Mako.

"The bell tolls for thee, Vakarian," she said. "Or, at least, that's what I think the ringing on my omni-tool was telling me."

"Sorry Commander," Garrus said, picking himself off the floor. "Didn't feel like going all the way up a deck."

"You should be sorry—walking up to people unannounced is my favorite perk of this job." Shepard softened her features. "What's up, Garrus?"

Garrus tossed aside his repair equipment and tried to relax his posture.

"Commander, I've got another, uh, scenario for you, if you've got the time."

"I can pencil ya in," Shepard said, cracking her knuckles. "Been a while since I got to mess with your head anyways."

Garrus's posture finally relaxed. "Mmm, you say that now, but this one's a reeeeal doozy."

"Don't go psyching me up now, Garrus. You've promised me that before."

"Warm up rounds—and you cheated, let's not forget that part. No hidden backdoors this time, Shepard; no misplaced ID cards or one-way mirrors or some B.S. about strapping guns to the hood of a sky-taxi."

"Said it before, and I'll say it again: that really happened to me."

"And see, everything I've seen so far? I believe that." Garrus gestured around the cargo hold. "But I'm asking you to take a trip out of the fantasyland universe you live in and visit with us boring, normal people for a little while."

"You worked in tourism before C-SEC, I can tell."

"Yeah but it was turian tourism: we had to come up with lists of reasons for people not to visit. We started with the food and worked our way to the melanoma problem."

Shepard chuckled. "All right, Vakarian—hit me with your best shot. You promised not to go easy on me, remember."

"Don't get mad at me for just following orders." Garrus cleared his throat…and his posture went rigid again. "All right, so, suppose you're in a hostage situation. Not just any hostage situation: the guy's lobotomized his victims. Best they can do is shuffle around and maybe point a gun at you, if you get close enough. The maniac you're after? He's got a dead man's switch somewhere on him: moment he goes, so goes his victims. You know he's got this switch on him, you know there's nothing you can do for his victims, and you know if he gets lose, he's gonna do it all over again. You've got the shot lined up—do you take it?"

Shepard paused, stared. "You're really stacking the deck there, Garrus."

"I'm just following orders."

Another pause…and then Shepard assumed a rigid, military stance. "Okay. Just following orders, you're right. Let me propose a trade though, real quick."

Garrus took a step back. "That wasn't part of the deal."

"Humour me," Shepard said. "Like you did with the taxi."

Garrus's turn to pause. "I'll humour you," he said eventually

"And I'll answer your question—just as presented, in the neat little box you've put it in—in exchange for you answering one of mine. Sound fair?"

"That definitely wasn't part of the deal."

"Take it or leave it."

Garrus took a long pause. A long pause. Long enough that Shepard started to look worried.

"Look, Garrus—"

"Fine," Garrus said. "You've got a deal."

Shepard stared at Garrus. Eventually, back came the military stance. "All right. In that situation? As described? Yeah, I'd take the shot."

"All right…" Garrus looked at Shepard hesitantly. "So what's your question?"

"Is this about Dr. Saleon?"

"I don't…" Garrus took another step back, nearly bumped into the Mako, and it took a lot of energy out of him to restraighten his posture. "I know what you're going to say. But the fact is, Shepard, those two situations are the same."

"The word 'know' is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that situation, Garrus."

"I don't see how taking it out changes the answer."

"You don't? Honestly?" Shepard crossed her arms. "Just start with the lobotomized victims: if I don't know there's no helping them—if all the information I have in that moment doesn't rule out that they can be saved—then what's my rationale for taking the shot? Why shouldn't I try to take Saleon alive and see if what he's done can't be reversed? Why take that option off the table?"

"Because there isn't anything you can do for them."

"In your situation? Sure. But Garrus, we don't get that kind of certainty in the real world."

"We risk letting degenerates like him walk free and what we can guarantee is that there'll be more victims at the end of the day than when we woke up. You can make things be certain."

"You can make some things that are directly in front of your face certain," Shepard said. Garrus was pointing a talon at her; Shepard just stood there, held up her hand like a teacher asking for quiet from her students. "Example: if I shoot someone in the head I'll know they're dead. What I don't know is who that's going to affect ten, fifteen, hell two-hundred years from now. Maybe it'll make the world a better place, but if I'm taking a path that closes off a whole lot of alternatives, then I doubt that'll do anything except hurt people." Shepard took a hard look at Garrus. "Maybe a lot. Maybe even more than what Dr. Saleon was doing."

"So that's it?" Garrus put his talon away but didn't relax. "We can't know anything for sure, so we default to hoping good intentions fixes everything? Look, Shepard, I'm trying to understand your position, but it can't be that simple. We wouldn't—"

"Hold it, hold it right—"

"—have armies if it was that simpl—"

"Hold it," Shepard said, with enough volume that Ashley and Wrex looked up (and wisely looked right back down afterwards). "Garrus, back that train up a second, all right?"

Garrus stopped. Shepard continued.

"I'm getting real sick and tired of people thinking that what I just said is the simple option, like I'm the one that can't figure out how the world works."

More silence from Garrus. His posture was deflated, too. But, eventually, he straightened his back out yet again and tried to present a military face. "I'm sorry, Commander. I was out of line."

Shepard sighed, rubbed her forehead. "No, no it's not yo…well it's partially you but, truth be told, I've been dealing with that for three and a half million years, it feels like." She let go of her forehead and tried to give Garrus a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. Snapping at you isn't…let's finish this part up first so we can get to the important stuff."

"Important stuff?" Garrus said.

"I'm not saying that nothing but good intentions get you through life with a smile and a wave and all that crap. 'The road to hell' and so on and so on. I hate to say it, Garrus, but that's your angle, whether you realize it or not: you've got the best of intentions taking this guy out, so ipso facto that means whatever happens is better for everyone on the whole."

"And that's not what you're saying?"

"Not really. I'm of the firm belief that good consequences only come from good intentions, but I mean really good intentions. Like not, on principle, sacrificing people and choices for the sake of getting the bad guy by any means necessary. You've gotta be able to pivot if you want things to turn out all right, and you can only pivot if you're pretty ruthless with yourself about saving every single person that you come across. Otherwise—and I've seen this before—you're liable to take short-cuts. Nasty short-cuts."

Garrus thought about it, but only for a second, it seemed like. "Sometimes you don't have the time to do that."

"Not to sound uncaring, but sometimes you've gotta make the time," Shepard said. "Easier said than done, I know—and I'm not going to say there's never a situation where you'll have to take the shot to save the universe. But that's a thought process you have to be actively considering. Otherwise…hell, this isn't supposed to be a lecture."

"It's fine…I asked."

"Look," Shepard took a step closer, "even in your situation—the fake one, not the real one—trying to help Saleon's victims could yield a ton of benefits. At least some biologist would get some data and probably a couple of surgery techniques that could lead to a lot of good, even if it's only got a remote chance of helping the vics. That's downstream from not cutting corners, though—just my two cents."

"Appreciate it, Commander," Garrus said. "It's why I asked."

"Right, well, now the important stuff."

Up went Garrus's brow. "Important stuff?"

"This is clearly eating you up. So, how do you want to deal with this?"

Garrus didn't say anything.

"Garrus…?" Shepard said.

Still nothing.

"Garrus you're starting to worry me…"

Still nothing from Garrus Vakarian.

Now...

1.

As soon as Garrus stepped off the shuttle and onto the Citadel…it felt like coming home to an empty house, just after you had to burry a parent you couldn't stand. Same streets, same hallways, same traffic flows and spots where you couldn't see a damn thing through the haze of neon…hell, even some of the advertisements were the same as—what was it—two years ago? Year and a half? Probably just a year: Shepard had been dead for two, and he'd at least stuck it out on this station for a little while after that. Long enough that he could've told her he made an honest go of it—that the things she'd told him had stuck, for as long as his brain would let them.

Couldn't tell her that now, though…

When he'd left, Garrus thought the galaxy had spent however long twiddling its thumbs and looking anxious, even though the Apocalypse was right around the corner and the only person who'd managed to put up a fight was dead. Now, looking at the bored stares and the distracting storefronts and the C-SEC officers that were too damn calm, all of them, like half their friends hadn't died fighting Saren just a blink of the universe's eye ago—it was the same mess. Same streets, same hallways, same problems. Heart of galactic civilization, except when limbs started getting amputated, all it'd do was just pretend to keep on beating.

Things'd been said, two years ago. But at what point did the fact they didn't stick become the galaxy's fault, instead of his?

Mmm…and then there was Kaidan, stepping off the shuttle just behind him. He took a look around and Garrus knew—if he'd been half the friend he was back on the Normandy—the first thought in his head would've been: might be the first time in a while Kaidan's been back on the Citadel, too. Might even be the first since Shepard died. But Kaidan was there to babysit; he was there to make sure Garrus didn't "cause an incident," because punching out a war criminal wasn't a…

Not right now. Not going back there right now. Too many variables still at play. Too many people still stuck in the crossfire.

Kaidan cleared his throat, and if he wasn't a moralizing comment away from being left behind…Garrus might actually thank him for pulling him out of his own head.

"What'd your digging turn up?" Kaidan said. He squinted at the neon, watched some Alliance cadets get drilled by a bald instructor with two sonic detonators for lungs.

"Enough," Garrus said. "We're looking for a man called 'Fade.' We find him, we find who I'm really looking for."

"And who's that?"

"You'll know when I find him."

Kaidan looked like he bit something back; probably something about how he'd been respectful and quiet on the shuttle ride over. Sure he had, but the less Sidonis's name got said aloud, the better he'd feel about finally getting his hands around the bastard's neck.

And besides, no name, no way to trace how the leader of a twelve-man squad got whittled down to a lone gunman, hiding in the shadows, trying to find out why the Eclipse the Blood Back the damn Blue Suns didn't finish him off when they had a chance.

Kaidan repositioned and looked up at Garrus.

"Fade…so, like fading into the background? Out of existence? That kind of thing?"

"Seems like it," Garrus said.

"Dealt with him before?"

Garrus shook his head. "Can't say I remember him. Scum like Fade crawl out of the woodwork every minute on this station. C-SEC's usually five years behind."

"So what's our next move?"

Garrus pointed straight ahead, at a security door looming over the shoulder of a glorified ticket dispenser in black and blue uniform. On the other side was Zakara Ward, just about the only place on the Citadel where he never had a beat route or a case he'd hunted down. "We go to C-SEC, and find out if Fade's new or if they've just caught up to a five year old problem."

Garrus started marching; Kaidan followed…with about as much confidence of someone walking down a dark alleyway.

They cleared security with fake ID's and all the permits they needed and on the other side of the security gate was a C-SEC outpost. Officers were making ampersand patterns in the floor as they handed off one file to another, and directing traffic right out of the eye of the storm was a man—looked like the station's Captain, given his desk—with a military haircut and a five o'clock shadow he probably had to maintain with garden shears. He was standing, his omni-tool was out, someone with a nice suit was up on the holographic screen, and from a distance, it looked like he was trying to show off the chaos as much as possible.

"Look," the Captain said, "as of right now there's no comment from me, and I'm honest-to-god doing you a favour by saying you'll have no luck anywhere else, too. The Citadel Council—in its infinite wisdom—realized long ago that nobody has to speak to the press. So if you wanna run a headline that says we're being tight lipped because we don't like you, I've got no objection to it."

"Your PR person probably hates you, Bailey," the woman in the suit said.

"My PR person is out mopping up a car accident, because I've been short-staffed since before humans invented the rocket. You can print that as a headline too, if you want—I don't charge commission."

The call ended, and the officer noticed the two strangers standing in the middle of his station. He motioned them over and, Garrus had to admit, he'd never seen a superior talk to the press that way. Almost made you wonder if people like Garrus got kept away from people like "Bailey" as a matter of galactic law.

"Captain Armando Bailey," he said. "The rest of that title uh, I'm thinking you can fill in the blanks yourself. What can I do for you two?"

Kaidan looked at Garrus, and Garrus looked right back. Don't want to take the plunge, that it, Kaidan? Let the…"loose cannon" turian do all the talking, keep your hands clean, make sure everyone knows who made what decision, just in case it all goes to hell?

"Uh, fun as all this is turning out to be," Bailey said, "I do have some job requirements I need to attend to." His hand swiped across his desk. "So long as you don't start talking over each other, the floor's completely yours."

"We're looking for a forager," Garrus said. "Alias: Fade. Any information you have—last know location, list of contacts, the works—we'd appreciate."

Bailey's brow rose, then he chuckled, sat down. "Fade, huh? You wouldn't happen to be with Network, would you?"

"Do I look like I'm with Network?" Garrus said.

"The guns don't necessarily fit, no." Bailey waved his hand again. "Your permits cleared—don't worry about it. But Network's been trying to nail this bastard for the better part of a year now. Guy's slippery—we're pretty sure he's got the inside scoop on C-SEC internal traffic…you don't show up to as many empty buildings as we do through nothing but bad luck."

"So you don't know anything?"

"We know where a lot of his clients frequent," Bailey said. "There's a warehouse just down by the marketplace. If you go down there and play nice, you might get some answers." Bailey gave both Garrus and Kaidan a once-over. "I'd warn you both about how the Blue Suns like Fade a hell of a lot more than we do, but…you look like you came expecting trouble."

Garrus's mandibles twitched. "That a problem? Us coming here and expecting trouble?"

"There's plenty of trouble to go around already." Bailey's brow rose again. "Guess the question I should really be asking you is: how much more do you plan on adding?"

Kaidan stepped up to the desk, tried to use a quiet voice as much as he could. "Seems like total chaos around here. I've only been on the Citadel a handful of times, but I can't think of the last time C-SEC officers were buzzing like this."

Bailey chuckled, Kaidan relaxed a bit, and Garrus…focused on his twitching mandibles. That and the name that'd caused them to twitch in the first place.

"Somebody on this station must've wished for interesting times," Bailey said, "because I'm feeling mighty cursed right now. Some idiot charged into the human embassy covered in blood, and then some other idiot shot up Westerlund HQ. Off the record, one of those things bugs me more than the other, but either way the world woke up yesterday morning and decided that life was…too calm, the bastard."

"The human embassy?" Kaidan said. "Is—?"

"Everyone's fine, so far as I've heard," Bailey said. "Actually rumour has it Joe Wexler's the one that kicked up that fuss. Don't think I've seen a less threatening former marine in my life but, then again, I try and avoid politics as much as possible." Bailey sighed, leaned back in his chair. "'Course, I say that: I'm still stuck between a rock and a Do Not Exceed Your Mandate. People expect C-SEC to solve everything, and that just ain't how things are done here."

"I sympathize," Garrus said, working those words through his vibrating mandibles.

"Figured you might," Bailey said. He leaned forward, kept his voice low, but that look on his face…no matter what tone he was using, that look was a serious one, no question.

And it was directed solely at Garrus.

Bailey said, "At the risk of being accused of racism…you wouldn't happen to be Garrus Vakarian, would you?"

Garrus's mandibles threatened to launch themselves into orbit, and his talons burrowed through the palms of his gloves. He could feel his spine straighten like somebody'd taken an electric rod to it and…

…and he calmed himself, took as subtle of a breath as he could, and said: "You know me?"

Bailey leaned back again. "By reputation, yeah. Most district Captain's probably do."

Garrus stopped letting out subtle breaths, not that overt ones made a damn bit of difference.

Bailey, though, just held up his hands. "Not to make it sound the way you're thinking, let me just clear the air right here and now."

"Funny," Garrus said, talons still digging, "can't imagine how else I was supposed to take that." He turned to Kaidan and dared him to do or say something, but Kaidan was…he couldn't tell. Letting it play out, that's what it looked like.

Bailey stretched out his arms, but that was just for show. His eyes were darting all over the office—if you stood close enough, it was easy to see that.

"This is a company secret," he said, "so, discretion—as unenforceable as it is—would be appreciated, but the Executor may've briefed the lot of us on what happens when an employee doesn't get the support they figure they deserve. Said a detective in Major Crimes got stonewalled in the middle of a galaxy-shattering revelation and ended up defecting to Special Tactics and Reconnaissance." Bailey gave one last glance around the room. "Any of us that cared could remember the vids on the whole Saren thing and put two-and-two together."

"That's one way of interpreting what happened," Garrus said. Nothing from Kaidan still. What, one comment and you shut up all of a sudden? Was that it?

"If you wanna fill me in," Bailey said, "then by all means. But I'll tell you how most of us took it: it sounded like Pallin-speak for, make sure your officers know they're being taken seriously, or else it might bite you in the ass. I figure he wouldn't've brought up the Spectres otherwise."

"And like I said, that's one interpretation." Garrus finally dislodged his talons from his palm, but nothing was gonna stop his mandibles from twitching—nothing short of this conversation being over. "Other people might focus on the fact that taking your officers seriously and making the Spectres a boogeyman sends exactly the wrong message."

Bailey and Garrus stared at each other…but Bailey, eventually, just hummed to himself and relaxed his posture. "Well…was gonna give you the number to Pallin's new office—in case you wanted to let him know you're back—but…I'm guessing that'd be far down your list of priorities."

Finally, Garrus's mandible stopped twitching, just in time for him to say: "I'd need a second omni-tool if my lists got that long."

Garrus and Bailey stared at each other again. Not hostile just…stared.

Bailey was the first to move.

"Riiiiight," he said, leaning forward to his console. "Like I said: you want Fade, check out his contacts by the warehouse. If you find him, you know our number: back-up, intel, we might be able to spare some of that—if you behave. You're not a serving member of C-SEC anymore so some officers, they might object to me letting you have free-rein." Bailey looked up from his console. "But if you want him as bad as I think you do, you won't use this bit of good will against me, will you?"

"Not at all," Garrus said. And, like that, he was out the open archway into Zakara Ward, and Kaidan…Kaidan was just standing there, trying to solve fifty different equations at once.

The first to get completed was to turn to Bailey and say: "Thanks. You're helping a lot of people out, cold reception notwithstanding."

"Be stupid not to," Bailey said. "Fade's cost Network a lot of manhours. One of these days, he might just cost me a man, too."

Kaidan left to follow Garrus, leaving Bailey to do a quick extranet check and confirm that, yeah, that was (now Staff Commander) Kaidan Alenko with Vakarian, so that feeling in his stomach could go away. And then Kaidan caught up with Garrus, who was busy connecting the Blue Suns with Sidonis and Tarak and Fade and the whole twisted, evil, gnarled nightmare that was Omega. It was obvious—the whole thing fit together and it was obvious—but all this and Garrus still couldn't get it to fit perfectly, still couldn't find the perfect plan that'd take those bastards off the galaxy's conscience for the rest of eternity.

That brought back a familiar thought—a thought that'd been with Garrus for longer than Shepard or her team or the memories of that brief time where the universe made sense, it seemed like.

He thought about Sidonis, and their very first meeting, and what Garrus should've been looking for if he wanted to avoid this whole Spirits-forsaken mess that'd defined his life for far too long…

2.

He'd been on the station—Omega—for about three weeks. Ammo was gone, he'd bartered the standard issue equipment away for something a hell of a lot less effective, medi-gel had been used up first time he'd made an escape through an open window…and that meant he'd been targeting small fry. The punk kids that got scared if you knocked over some salvage in an alleyway. Every time Garrus nabbed another one of them, he'd just get frustrated. There was no progress—no give anywhere else on the station. He'd haul someone in a spacer jacket and a bootleg Kuwashii Visor into the dark by their ankles, get up in their face, promise them that every shadow from here to Afterlife was the worst place in the galaxy to be…and half a block away, the Blue Suns would be beating up a father of four because he didn't pay protection that week.

When he first got there, he thought: the frustrating thing is the scum is right there. Everyone can see it; everyone knows it. You get a gun, you pick your target, you shoot—there, the universe is short one predator, and you get time to regroup and get ready for his replacement. The problem was, he just didn't have the right gun. Get the right gun, you get the right target. And while he was out searching for the right gun—hunting for credits or odd jobs or just a lazy guard not worth his weight in armour piercing rounds—he didn't see the Blue Suns just another block away, getting praised by a rich merchant for their "community revitalization efforts." He didn't see how much Omega reflected the Citadel, except cranked up to eleven.

Not until the first night of his fourth week, when he got sick of small catches, tailed a Blue Suns recruiter to some batarian's store, and tried to show the shopkeeper that these bastards weren't invincible. The recruiter didn't stand a chance; and with Garrus busy replaying every conversation he'd had with the Ricky's of the station, he never noticed the omni-blade coming at him. The shopkeeper had a detached one—obsolete now that your omni-tool spat these things out no problem—and because Garrus was beating up a representative of the one organization keeping the Blood Pack and all their merchants from stomping all over him, he took action.

Garrus just had Agent armour on then: same crap he left C-SEC with the day he washed his hands of everything, his whole life—his father's life…Shepard's advice, teachings, whatever you wanted to call it. That omni-blade cut through cleanly and then took a chunk of Garrus with it.

He wasn't Shepard. She would've seen it coming, disarmed the shopkeeper—hell, she would've taken on the Blue Suns the moment she got off the shuttle, standard issue equipment or not. Garrus wasn't her; he jammed that omni-blade into the shopkeeper's arm and vanished just as the Sun's recruiter found his gun. Just a random attack, at the end of the day, but some nut in blue and black armour. Not a damn thing different on this station…

…except Garrus needed new armour.

He walked the streets of Omega, ground slick with something too viscous to be water and too brown to be pleasant to think about. If people knew what kinds of turians wore that armour, they didn't give Garrus any hints.

He dragged himself to a bar, in about the only "safe" neighborhood for miles, because bars had long since been his base of operations—calmer and more secure than sleeping outside.

He dragged himself into the bar…

…and inside, he met Sidonis.

The turian behind the bar eyed Garrus as he crawled his way towards a seat, practically fell into it, groaned as the feeling in his fingers started to fade. He just needed a place to…to collect to…damn, right pointer talon was completely numb now.

"Get you anything?" the turian behind the bar said. "Pretty good selection here, for folks like us."

"No," Garrus said. "I'm fine." Except he wasn't. Omni-blade's made clean cuts but all the crap on his equipment? He needed to sterilize it. Garrus eyed his wound, then eyed a bottle of clear liquor with a dancing quarian on it, just above the shoulder of the bartender. That bartender caught Garrus's looking and jabbed a talon at it.

"What's the proof?" Garrus said.

"Uh…lemme see." The bartender pulled it from the rack, held the purple and black label up close. "Even hundred—the good stuff."

"Give it here."

"You're the boss."

Garrus took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, inhaled something that hit his nose like a cryo round…and then put the bottle down away from the bartender and started stripping off his armour.

The bartender clued in just as Garrus was pouring it over his wound.

"Aw hey don't—c'mon man that shit's expensive! I'm gonna have to…" And then he stopped, and stared, and Garrus let the alcohol seep into his wound and remind him just how paper thin everything in his life really was.

Garrus was still grimacing when he looked up and saw the other turian staring at his wound.

"How…much?" Garrus said.

The bartender stared a bit longer. "Depends," he said eventually. "What's the other guy look like?"

"Significantly worse."

The bartender took a step back. "Then it's free."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Or make any sudden moves."

The stinging wasn't getting any worse, so it was time to stop pouring. That left enough in the bottle for a drink, if he was in the mood.

Garrus held the little bit of clear liquid up to the bartender. "Least I can do is pay for that part."

"Don't worry about it," the bartender said. "Seriously—not my stuff anyways."

"Not your stuff? This isn't your place?"

"Nah, I'm just watching it for, uh…that guy—back there, in the booth."

Garrus turned and saw the bar's owner—apparently—passed out in a booth, surrounded by dancers who were helping themselves to drinks and his credit chit. Moreso the latter than the former.

"Mmm," Garrus said.

"Yeah, believe me." The bartender took the drink from Garrus's hands, eyed it, then finished it off and put the bottle somewhere below the counter. "Been…phew, that hits—been trying to get off this station for fucking months. Pretty hard to do when the sole proprietor blows half your paycheck on…whatever the hell's happening over there."

"Guess there isn't much alternative work in this place."

"Made a go of a few other jobs, here and there. Came to this station 'cause of a job, believe it or not—as a freelance peacekeeping agent."

Garrus turned back to the bartender. "Freelance peacekeeping agent, huh?"

"Yeah, uh…it's a real thing."

Garrus almost smiled. "It sure is. You just don't ever wanna tell a cop that's what you do."

The bartender's eyes tried to exit right out their sockets. "Oh, shit, so you're…" And then, calm—or something close to calm. "Figures," he said, "with the armour. All right well, rest easy, Officer: I never did any bounty hunting for the major players, and all the bounty hunting I did back in Council space was above board."

The bartender took a step closer, lowered his voice. That caught Garrus's interest more than anything else. "Hell when I landed here, I did a bit of a one-eighty: went to work with the Talons, a small outfit that…well, they're all right. The crusading type—actually thought you might've been one of them for a second."

"Never heard of them."

"Ah. Fresh of the boat, huh?"

"Just sticking to the big catches."

"Gotcha. How big, exactly?"

"Probably best not to say out loud."

The bartender chuckled, took a step back. "Yeah, might just ask you to vacate the premises too. Which case, you're paying for that bottle. Not like I'm lacking enough incentive to leave this fucking place." He mumbled that last bit, mumbled and spat it.

Garrus wasn't Shepard. He couldn't fight on his own. Shepard never did, she said—she always told people it was a "team effort." But Garrus knew, she was slumming it with the rest of them. Saren worked alone; Nihlus did too. Shepard could've, if she wanted to. The only reason she didn't? Well…Garrus had his theories, but it didn't matter, because he wasn't her.

He needed a team.

He needed a team.

And, hell, Wrex had been a gun-for-hire, and he'd turned our all right.

Garrus looked up at the bartender. "You a good shot?"

The bartender blinked. "I hit people. And I hit them where I'm aiming—mostly. Place's that'll slow 'em down, make it less likely I'd have to hoof it through the entire station."

"And during your stint with the crusaders? These Talons you mentioned?"

"Then I just hit people." The bartender surveyed the whole bar. Twice, it looked like. Then he leaned in close. "Look, if you're about to offer me a job…my going rate is high, all right?"

"I figured."

"So you've got creds?"

"Me?" Garrus said. "No. Haven't since I landed. But I've got something better."

"The secret to immortality?"

"Connections. Back on Palaven. Hell, back on the Citadel, too. You want money? We'll both be dead before it shows up. But you want an armed escort off this rock, an ear when you're back in Council space? All I have to do is send out a message with 'Omega' and my name in it, and you'll have your escape-hatch."

"Uh-huh," the bartender said. "And your big important name is…?"

"Garrus Vakarian. I helped kill a Reaper, once. Even the ungrateful assholes know they owe me."

The bartender leaned on the counter, his mandibles clicking on the side of his head. Then he said, "Hmph."

"Hmph?"

"Never heard of you," the bartender said. "Or a…what'd you call it? Reaper? Never heard of that either. But…" the bartender finally looked relaxed, leaned back in. "I've been away a while. Maybe you'll fill me in."

"That's enough? Just my word and a scary-sounding name?"

"Sure, why not? Not like I've got a million options to choose from." The bartender came round the other side of the bar, stood next to Garrus. "And…look, full disclosure here: I may not have heard of you but I have heard of your father. And knowing who he is and who he knows? Even if you're lying through your teeth, that's collateral enough for me."

Garrus deserved that—he'd walked into it, trying to make it sound like he was more important to the mission than he really was…more important than Shepard, even, who could've been surrounded by all three gangs with nothing but a pistol and still the Council would've said, sorry, we can't get involved in the Terminus Systems. If she was alive, and that was the situation she was in, that's what they would've said.

Dad? Dad might've sent help. Maybe. But Garrus deserved the shot he just took, because as far as collateral went, he didn't have much at all.

Still, he reached out a hand.

"Then that's good enough for me too. Welcome to the worst decision you've ever made, uh…?"

"Lantar," the bartender said. "Lantar Sidonis. And for fuck's sake Garrus, you need to work on your sales pitch."

That was how Garrus had met Sidonis…and a loud, snotty part of him had regretted that decision even before the…the betrayal.

He'd convinced Sidonis about his story—about the Reapers—eventually, that wasn't it. Well, Garrus had convinced Sidonis that he'd played a part in destroying an impossibly large space ship, after he got through finding some vids and a documentary about the whole thing. The Reapers…Sidonis said he bought that eventually, but Garrus had no idea when the story fully clicked. So all that regret, it wasn't because Sidonis doubted Garrus. Hell, they'd become friends somewhere down the road—and that was probably part of the problem.

What that loud and snotty part kept saying was…it wasn't that he should've seen it coming, it was that he had every chance to kick Sidonis off the team when the roster started to fill. And he didn't, and Garrus didn't have a fucking clue why not.

His brain always went back to an incident early on, when it was still just the two of them.

Garrus was in his element: they needed new equipment, and he'd create a plan to nab the highest-end stuff they could find. Blue Suns stuff: enough good weapons and turian armour that they could start pointing the right kind of gun and the right kind of people. He'd waited until the end to tell Sidonis who the target was, but Sidonis figured it out. The plan seemed solid enough—that wasn't the issue—the issue was the beginning, the detour. The fact they were going to find a Blue Suns "situation" and come storming in, make a loud bang, leak into the Suns network that a raid on one of their storage facilities was happening that night. If the Suns were stupid, they'd spread themselves thin, leave just about every storage facility too lightly guarded. Eclipse had moles everywhere, so chances were an army wearing piss-yellow armour would pick that moment to add another layer of distractions to the plan. If the Suns were smart, they'd start shipping new equipment in just in case. Getting raided in a port when you had to deal with Aria T'Loak's "rules but not really rules" was a hell of a lot less defensible than posting sentries outside a secure facility.

Distraction, misdirection, use local networks and connections with civilians to get inside your opponents OODA loop—the idea made intuitive sense to Garrus but after Shepard put a name to it, Garrus become evangelical about it. And Sidonis seemed convinced enough about it, until they climbed up onto a roof that Garrus's contact said would have a good view of a Suns' "information session"—interrogating and intimidating a human "community organizer" who looked out for her neighbors, instead of Blue Suns' shareholders. Suddenly, the trust was gone.

And the worst part was? This was the perfect in. Garrus told Sidonis that: they wouldn't get a more dramatic introduction to the Suns or the people of Omega than this, right here, just a few stories below them.

It was just five troopers and a Centurion. They only had pistols, but if Sidonis listened to him…

Sidonis just stood there, though, his face twitching.

"I'm…dammit can you—I'm trying to raise my brow here. Is it raised? I can't—is it actually up or am I just wasting time?"

"OH GOD PLEASE DON'T SHOOT PLEASE I—"

Then there was a bang, then something heavy made a wet noise as it hit the pavement, and the Suns started dispersing. Garrus watched them go.

"You were just wasting time," he said.

Sidonis watched them go too.

"Well…'least the food's gonna be better in the bread lines now."

Garrus nearly knocked him off the roof. When he pushed on by, he nearly knocked Sidonis right off the roof. Sidonis called after him but Garrus wasn't listening—he walked to the edge of the roof under the snarling teeth of the upside down buildings blighting the cesspool that was this damned station…and waited for the Suns to emerge out from under an archway.

That puddle—that generator. An overload charge would drop the shields of the troopers, fry the weapons of the Centurion too, most likely. A concussive blast after everyone was being electrocuted would knock the unshielded down. Balcony there, dumpster just below—two hops and he'd be on street level. He didn't have a knife but the Centurion did, and that'd work just fine.

He readied his omni-tool; he prepped the concussive blast on his pistol.

Electricity arched, a batarian a human and three turians screamed, a concussive blast knocked all five down, and Garrus was on the pavement snaking his way towards the glowing blue tech armour of the Centurion head down weapon overheating about to reach for his earpiece good, let him, first trooper up gets a bullet to the head, Centurion just finished a panic reply, good, swipe the weapon away blow to the knee grab the knife then right there, right into the shoulder blade of the dominant arm, no kinetic barriers to protect you. Another blow to the knee, punch to the side of a trooper's head, barriers hadn't reset so that was two more head shots, third and fourth trooper got three to the chest. Good.

The Centurion was getting up—another blow to the head knocked him down. Kinetic barriers less than half—Garrus unleashed another overload and that was it, the Centurion was unshielded.

Garrus grabbed the turian by his collar.

"An eye for an eye," Garrus said. Then, the cosmic scales were balanced, and a sixth dead Sun dropped to the pavement.

Enough people had seen Garrus for this to work. No faces, no names—just the sight of someone fighting back. He disappeared back into the shadows and Sidonis was there waiting for him.

"Spirits," he said. "Garrus what the…what the fuck was that?"

Garrus's arm came up and pinned Sidonis to the wall. "Our mission," he said. "I just salvaged it so you'd better tell me now, before I go any further, if you'd rather sit here and make sick jokes."

"Hey fuck you, all right?" Sidonis said, pushing himself free. "Just a joke to lighten the mood. We're allowed to do that, aren't we? Throw a joke around when things don't go our way?"

Garrus started to walk away.

"Garrus, buddy—serious question. We're allowed to do that, right? Because, c'mon: you've gotta tell me if you're dragging me back into the Hierarchy."

Garrus stopped, spun around. "This isn't about rules, Sidonis—it's about recognizing what's right in front of you. We screw up, we dedicate every waking hour to being better. Anything less, and this place'll eat us alive—and frankly, we'll deserve whatever it does to us."

"So that's why you just landed a five-story jump and took on a whole Blue Suns fire team? So this place doesn't 'eat us alive'?"

Garrus turned again, and this time had no plan to stop.

"Fuck," he heard behind his back. "Way to sign on with the crazies."

"I heard that," Garrus said.

Then Sidonis was sprinting in front of him. "Good. 'Cause when you decide to eat your own gun, I don't wanna be your emergency contact."

Garrus searched Sidonis's face for as long as he felt he could spare. Whatever look he was seeing, he couldn't read any intention into it. "I'll give you that joke because it was directed at me."

"Keep the attitude up, Garrus, and one of these days it might stop being a joke."

And…despite all that, Garrus kept Sidonis on. They became friends—that's the way it seemed—and looking back on that day…Garrus still kept Sidonis on.

The roster filled up, but Sidonis stayed put.

Garrus deserved whatever Omega planned to do to him. For his hubris if nothing else. But the rest? They didn't deserve what happened to them, not in any universe that made sense.

But Sidonis?

Sidonis deserved a hell of a lot worse.

3.

The warehouse wasn't a complete dead-end, but it was close. They had to squeeze some information out of a volus that for some reason wanted to pretend to be Fade but…they got it done. And there was Kaidan, sitting in the passenger seat of a skycar, thinking…well, he didn't know what to think. You know, there was a friend—a good friend of his—right next to him…and he was hurting. Probably'd been hurt deeper than anyone he'd known in years, based on how Garrus was acting. People deserved peace from things like that, but the way he was going about getting it…it couldn't end well, could it? And then there was the rest of the galaxy—you could see it, just out the corner of your eye, always watching, always whispering to themselves and saying… "they can't get it done; too much's gone wrong; if Kaidan doesn't play along and let Garrus get himself functional again, that's it, the rest of us? We're dead before we even know we're in danger."

Thane would've been better for this mission, in a million and a half ways he would've been better. Because Thane, he could take it on the chin. Garrus would lash out and he'd just take it. And then he'd follow up by sticking to his principles…and that would've worked. Kaidan had to hope it would've worked. Living in a universe where your principles didn't matter…when the Reapers showed up, if your principles didn't mean a thing, then it was gonna get ugly. At some point the people getting harvested wouldn't look or act or think any differently from the things crawling out of dark space.

So what are your principles, Alenko? You better figure that out finally, because chances are you're gonna walk right over them, but at least you could recognize it when it happens. At least do that, Commander—at least do that.

Or at least figure out what the plan is, first.

Kaidan turned to Garrus. Just shadows, a streak of light cross his face from passing cars…and that glowing visor of his. You probably couldn't even tell it was Garrus driving, if you managed to look inside somehow. Maybe that was too on the nose—maybe Kaidan's brain was trying to tell him something and could only do it through movie cliches.

"What're you planning, Garrus?" he said.

"An infiltration route," Garrus said. "That volus at the warehouse may've been stupid, but he's on Fade's payroll. We need to assume the Blue Suns know we're coming."

"I meant in the long-term. With...whoever you're lo—"

"I'm still working on that." Garrus didn't take his eyes off the road; it looked like someone had run a metal bar through his neck so he couldn't turn his head. "Besides, I'm already juggling two things at once. What Bailey said, about Fade having a mole inside C-SEC—that's got me worried."

Up went Kaidan's brow. "Glad to see you're looking out for them. I bet they'd love a hand or two from you."

Garrus turned his head—slowly. That metal bar would've bent and buckled something fierce, if it was real.

They stared at each other for half a second, then Garrus's head swiveled back to the windshield.

"What?" Kaidan said.

"C-SEC can rot," Garrus said. "The only thing I care about is how interested Fade is in his client's pasts…and how much he remembers about me."

"You think Fade could connect the dots and spill that we're coming?" Kaidan shook his head. "With what info? I mean, Garrus, the only one in C-SEC that knows you're here is Bailey, by the sounds of it."

"I'm not saying it's likely—I'm just trying to narrow down what slimeball could make it real." Garrus turned back to Kaidan, much more smoothly this time. "I can think of a few names—I'll need to narrow it down quick."

"So shut up?"

"No, just…don't take my eye off the bat, or whatever the human saying is."

Garrus turned his head again…and Kaidan sighed. "Least I could do is help with the infiltration route, then."

"Appreciate it," Garrus said. "The Factory District's cybersecurity is abysmal—you shouldn't have much trouble pulling up all the maintenance routes and side rooms."

"And then what?"

"Just give me recommendations. New Dawn Pharmaceutical's main warehouse—whatever route takes us as far away from rooms with consistent Blue Suns presence in them but gets us to a central office. You do that, and I'll review it when we land."

"Right…"

It took Kaidan all of about a minute to pull everything up. Security wasn't a disaster or anything but it was pretty bad—loopholes in the security algorithms, backdoors just about everywhere. Kinda surprising New Dawn hadn't been raided by another corporation already, unless…well, unless security like that kept hackers away from the real targets—the stuff that might make the Blue Suns interested in cohabitating.

He should ask. He should ask more about the other thing—about why they needed "Fade" of all people on this station.

Yeah, he should ask.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"It's done," Kaidan said, putting down his arm. "Look uh…Garrus. Ash and I, we didn't do a lot of digging."

"Appreciated," Garrus said, eyes still straight ahead.

"Yeah but, it means I'm kinda flying blind here."

"I've got a plan. I need support, but, I've got a plan. And unless you want every detail force-fed to you then, being in the dark, is for your own good."

Garrus's mandibles were clicking…did they always do that? Kaidan hadn't noticed before or…maybe he'd never gotten close enough to notice. That didn't matter though—the words he'd just said…they mattered.

Kaidan sighed.

"Garrus uh…losing people…I know it's never easy."

"You don't even know a tenth."

Kaidan fired a look off at Garrus that could've pierced a hull. "C'mon you can't honestly think that. I mean, seriously—you don't think I've lost people wearing this uniform?"

"Nothing close to what I did, no. Closest any've us got to that point was with Shepard, and we got lucky." Garrus finally looked over. "I'm sorry if you took that personally, Kaidan, but read between the lines—we got lucky. You and me, Ash and Tali—Wrex, the crew, the whole damn Alliance and Council, we all got lucky, because Shepard was there." Garrus turned his head back to the windshield. "Difference is, I'm the only one that jumped back into the mess after she died…and now I'm down ten good men."

Kaidan…took a breath. Just took a breath and tried to remain calm. He focused on that number—on the ten—and…he couldn't remember how many Garrus had started with. If he did, that'd be digging; if he asked…same thing.

He could ask a different question.

"What were their names?" he said.

Garrus stayed staring ahead, but his mandibles…Kaidan could hear the clicking, now.

"If you don't want me to know—"

Up went Garrus's hand, and yeah, for a second there Kaidan thought he was gonna get hit. But no, Garrus reached up to his visor and…yanked it off, handed it to Kaidan.

Kaidan cupped it in his hands and looked at the scratches on its side. Erash. Krul. Ripper. Monteague. Vortash. Sensat. Butler. Melenis. Mierin.

"Right now," Garrus said, "that's the only thing in the universe that remembers those names."

"What's this scratch, right here? The big one?" Kaidan held it closer to his eyes. "Looks like you took a massive chunk out of the frame here."

"It's nothing," Garrus said, reaching for his visor and grabbing it back. "Got it from a fight—another turian tried to claw it off my face, figured he'd blind me." Click click click. "All he did, was open my eyes wider."

Kaidan stared at Garrus a while longer. Read between the lines, he'd said…all right, let's do that. Let's read between the lines.

"So when you find 'Fade'," Kaidan said, "then what? That's the part I'm still confused on."

"I'm working on it," Garrus said.

"But he's got information? That's what you're thinking?"

"He's got the keys to making this right. And he's going to give them to me, one way or another." Garrus looked over at Kaidan again, and staring at his eye, ringed by the glowing blue of his visor…Kaidan didn't like what he saw.

"If you trust me," Garrus said, "that'll be enough."

"I trust you, Garrus—honest. But I'm just…trying to get a read on the situation. I mean, Ash and I, we tried to respect your privacy but—"

"And what'd Thane say?"

"Thane? What? Why'd you expect him to say anything?"

Click click click. Garrus once again turned to face Kaidan…and then slowly turned his head back.

"Because he's got a damn opinion on everything," he said eventually. "And I figured you'd consulted with him."

The conversation died and Kaidan was as much a reason for that as Garrus. Read between the lines…yeah, okay, so no hiding it now: someone was dying. And that someone…they'd done something to get Garrus's team killed. Yeah, no hiding it now—this mission's success rode on Garrus putting someone's head in his scope and pulling the trigger, outside C-SEC and outside the military…outside everything put in place to make sure highly trained soldiers didn't do what Garrus wanted to do.

God Kaidan was a hypocrite. Yeah those things existed, but they'd never been bound by them. Ever since he worked with a Specrre he'd been outside all of that. Just so happened that Spectre made her own rules and, honestly, those rules were a hell of a lot more restrictive as far as innocent life went than anything endorsed by a military or government…but she could've broken them whenever she wanted. Probably got a parade thrown for her in the right circumstances.

So this was…this was one of those things were a Commander had to choose between one life and a mission to save everybody, wasn't it? He needed Garrus, and Garrus needed this…so somebody who may or may not deserve what they had coming was going to get Garrus's view of "just desserts"…and that was that.

What the hell was Garrus really trying to do here?

Yeah, but what the hell was Kaidan trying to do? Whatever was going to happen—whatever Garrus had planned for this person—it was a control thing, wasn't it? Garrus needed the universe to make sense, because if it did, then you could protect yourself. Or the people you cared about—you could protect them, because you could see everything coming. That was it, wasn't it? Hell speaking of Ash…this was right up her alley, wasn't it? Ever since Virmie it felt like she'd been stuck in the same kind of ditch and…Kaidan hadn't helped her through it before—that was Shepard. And Ash was probably going through the exact same thing now, but it wasn't Kaidan helping her this time either—it was Thane. And that was good…Thane was good people. But Thane wasn't Commander Krios, was he?

Just like Kaidan wasn't Commander Shepard.

"We're almost there," Garrus said, snapping Kaidan back into the real world. "Send me what you downloaded."

Kaidan did so.

"Mmm, good. Lot of hallways connected by side rooms. Couple of maintenance closets on this route, too—good to hide in if we need to let a patrol pass." Garrus turned to Kaidan again. "We do this right, then the only Blue Suns bastard that'll know we're here is the one I'm looking for."

"Any chance you've figured out who that is yet?"

"No—too many names. Whoever 'Fade' is has to be a rat—and a big one. But that's too wide a net."

"A rat…so someone like Harkin?" Kaidan shifted in his seat. "Anyone who'd go after Anderson right to Shepard's face is either stupid or a big bald rat, if you ask me."

"Probably both." Garrus grunted. "I thought about Harkin…but anyone doing a side job like this would need to be inside C-SEC, and last I checked, he'd been let go not long after I left the station."

"You kept tabs?"

"Just in case I got homesick." Garrus pointed out the window at something. "Hold on—I'm putting us down."

And that he did, on a ledge that neighbored the factory.

New Dawn's facility was sterile blue-white walls and conveyor belts—some of them were climbing up from underneath the floor, all the way to the ceiling—looked like at a 70 degree angle for a bunch of them. Boxes, crates, cannisters—you could see a lot of merchandise. Kaidan couldn't place most of it, which said something, given how much L2 patients had to deal with pharmaceutical companies. Air traffic was dead, though. Probably had to be if the Blue Suns were camping out around here.

They exited the car, crawled across a just-fine-honest maintenance bridge, and stopped about fifty feet from the factory's entrance—both distance and height. Garrus stopped, then started shuffling quickly along the ledge.

"I'm hacking into their radio," Garrus said. "Might take me a second."

"Need backup?" Kaidan said.

"Just make sure we stay hidden."

Fine—easy enough.

Garrus got the frequency, passed it to Kaidan. They both started listening.

A familiar voice spoke out from the initial burst of static. Up went Garrus's Viper, scope aimed at the entrance.

But even from fifty feet away, Kaidan could see the bald man in a black and blue shirt lifting something from a crate and stuff it into his pocket, right in plain view of a Blue Sun's trooper.

"Hey," the trooper said. "No sampling the merchandise, asshole."

The trooper reached and got his hand swatted away.

"You wanna tell me what I can and can't sample?" the bald man said. "How about you fill that Omega-sized hole in your bank accounts first. Only reason you clowns still have the keys to this place is the money I'm bringing in." The bald man looked at the trooper and shoved him, just for emphasis. "Speaking of, I've got clients. Try and stay out of my way, huh? You spook people."

Huh, so it was Harkin after all? A large part of Kaidan leapt up and told him not to say anything, since Garrus was beating himself up enough as is…

…but that part got drowned out when he actually looked up at Garrus.

He was holding his rifle with a death grip—hard enough that it was shaking. And his mandibles—they were basically clicking against his scope by this point. Something about seeing Harkin must've…done that.

And Kaidan was right: seeing Harkin had caused Garrus's body to nearly shut down.

So was the one word Garrus heard through all the other crap.

Omega.

And right next to that word was the blue and white armour he saw every day, getting stronger and stronger, on that little slice of hell out in the Terminus Systems...

4.

Things'd picked up steam on Omega pretty quickly, back then. It'd just been Garrus and Sidonis for the first little bit, but they picked up new recruits once rumours started circulating of a merc group that fought other merc groups as a matter of professional pride. Wasn't a huge fan of being called a mercenary but, the people of Omega? They didn't expect anything to be done for free and the sure didn't trust anyone who claimed to be an altruist. If pretending to be a merc meant they could sneak around rooftops without someone reporting them in, then that was the kind of calculus Garrus could accept. Get the job done, and worry about filtering out the teammates that only were only in it for the paycheck later. Easy enough…

…until you came home to ten bodies, all because you ignored the signs right in damn front of you.

The team had grown to six by the time Garrus felt comfortable going after the real players. The hierarchy on Omega? There was Aria, the Unholy Trinity…and then everyone else. Aria was a long-term project—if he was making plans to take her down, he'd either hit every other objective he could think of or he'd completely succumbed to madness.

That left the Trinity: Blue Suns, Blood Pack, Eclipse. Just because they got lumped together didn't mean they were equal partners. The Suns had off-world interests in the Terminus Systems and Traverse: Omega was just a slice of their empire. A big slice, sure—and Garrus was pretty much convinced at this point that most of the Suns' major transactions had to go through Omega and "Tarak"—but they'd have plenty of backup. Only reason he could think of for why they hadn't just bulldozed Omega and taken it for themselves, was Aria. Either her PR people were damn good at their jobs, or…she was every bit the dangerous warlord she claimed to be. Something to think about now, so he didn't get surprised later.

Blood Pack were a major step down from the Suns, but krogan were krogan. That and Omega was crawling with vorcha. They had numbers. Didn't have the best idea of how to use their numbers, but, they still had them. There was a disgusting element to this cost/benefit analysis, too. Merchants liked the Suns because they brought in a lot of outside cash; the people tolerated the Blood Pack a lot more than anyone else because they provided muscle. Strike too early, and he risked alienating everyone that didn't prey on the weak as part of their morning routine.

So that left the Eclipse.

It was their tech and attitude, that did them in. Tech because all the latest in anti-hacking algorithms couldn't protect your mech from the brown sludge on the floor; their attitude because three damn years of failing to push past the two or three docks they controlled, and they still hadn't learned their lesson. Thought their mechs made them invincible—thought the biotics they shipped in from Illium would close any other gaps. Turns out, all the mechs did was give Garrus's people a healthy supply of targets…and the biotics were nowhere to be found.

Apparently, even rough-and-tumble asari commandos didn't fuck with Aria.

The plan was, find an elite team in charge of a major operation and embarrass them. They needed to be proactive, not reactive—don't wait for them to gun down a neighborhood but make them bleed just for putting on that yellow uniform. Best way to do that? Disrupt their eezo-smuggling operation and make it look like a frigate's worth of Eclipse scum got taken out by nothing more than a fireteam. They planned this right, they could covertly deal with most of the heavy resistance and then flash their colours right at the end, right when the cameras and people and any Blood Pack or Suns informants might be watching.

A risky plan…but one that made sense. Risks were risks, though—he put it to a vote.

Four "yay's", one abstention, and one "nay."

Sidonis was the "nay."

"Look, Garrus," Sidonis said, all the way back in the never-changing past, "I get wanting to make a splash. I do—honest. But we're talking…I don't even know man."

"You don't trust me," Garrus said.

"I don't trust this place. And, hey, pretty sure I'm not the only one."

"What've I got to do to convince you?" They were standing in the group's "workshop". New armour was strewn up everywhere. Garrus had claimed a new set—spoils of war—that had better shields and armour than anything he'd seen on the Citadel. It was all black, originally: Garrus had added some blue. Now one of the others had added blue and black to their armour, too…

…one of the others…right…

Sidonis took a step towards Garrus. "Honestly? Gimme a sign you'll actually back out if shit hits the fan."

"Back out? You mean, retreat?"

"Whatever you wanna call it, just so long as our backs are going full-speed towards the exit."

Garrus crossed his arms. "All we've done is pick the target and finish the threat assessment. Plenty of time to come up with exit strategies between then and now."

"Yeah but, the thing I'm getting hung up on is following through. The exist strategy, I mean. Everybody's got a plan until we need to execute it."

"So, again, we're back to you not trusting me."

"You make the most beautiful plans in the world, Garrus, that's not the issue."

"And that's not what I'm asking." Garrus uncrossed his arms, took a step forward of his own. "What I'm asking is, are you really convinced I'd let this team die just to scare some mercs with a bad paintjob?"

"No—Spirits, Garrus no I'm not." Sidonis was looking at Garrus, then looked at the floor, then went back to Garrus. "Honest reaction—my whole body just recoiled." Then…then he pointed at Garrus. "But I'm pretty sure you might make that call. I'm pretty sure if I woke up tomorrow and somebody was going on about a turian—a dead one, in blue armour—who'd gone and took on the whole fucking Eclipse by himself…fuck they wouldn't even have to tell me what colour amour he was wearing. You understand?"

"I do," Garrus said. "And it's appreciated…but I take risks I know I can handle."

"Has that ever been a reassuring thing to say? Be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you. If you don't feel reassured? I can't help you there."

"Fuck me," Sidonis said. "And you still got pissed at me when I called you crazy."

They were silent in that workshop…silent except for Sidonis scratching at the armoured plating around his neck. Garrus should've said something first—should've tried to be reassuring. Maybe that was part of it…Spirits that couldn't've been part of it, too much happened for it to all be explained away by something like that.

Either way, Sidonis spoke up first.

"Y'know, we've been at this for half a lifetime, feels like…and I still can't get a read on you."

Garrus couldn't help it; up went his brow.

"You can't? Thought I'd been transparent enough you could see right through me."

"Was that a joke or…?"

"I think I was being sarcastic. Think I was. You tell me if that's how it came across."

"Will you punch me if I say you biffed it?"

Garrus chuckled. "Nah. Insult my skills? My rifle? That'll get you a beating. Was never much of a conversationalist anyways." The little lingering smile died the moment he finished that sentence. "Where's the confusion coming from? How am I being so…"

"Complicated?"

"I was gonna say 'dense' but, I like your word better."

Sidonis chuckled too. "Yeah…yeah…no look, it's just…I know cynical people. Been around a lot of cynical people in a past life—this life too. And you, Garrus—trust me on this, but some of the things you say, it's like you think the end of the world's right around the corner and you're maybe just a bit relieved by it."

Garrus's mandibles clicked. "Well…half right, anyways."

"Yeah but—I mean, even when you walked into that bar you just…confidence, man. You're cynical as hell and then the next minute you've got enough get-at-it-and-go to make those old Titan stories the evangelicals talk about look like they're filled with nothing but schmucks." Sidonis pointed over his shoulder. "Sorry but, this plan of yours…it's got all the hallmarks of that. Which is great, don't get me wrong…s'just when you follow that up with some kinda 'if I die I die' attitude—"

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah but, c'mon—I'm a bartender. I read between the lines."

A thought appeared in Garrus's head…and he ran with it, for better or for worse.

"I come by it honestly," he said. "The confidence thing—mmm, well, the cynicism thing too, I guess. But the confidence…what'd you call it, a past life? My past life, I learned how to take a calculated risk from the best."

"Ah," Sidonis said. "Right. Your uh, your Commander, right? Shepard?"

"That'd be her." Garrus took a step back, found a bare wall, and leaned against it. "Wasn't hard to feel confident around Shepard. She did this thing where some suppressive fire'd lined up a trio of mercs perfectly—all together, right in a line. She fired off a warp at one, an incendiary blast at another, then biotically charged at the centre—all at basically the same time. You would've thought the crater she made was caused by a frigate, at minimum."

"Holy shit," Sidonis said, wide-eyed and taking a step forward.

"One of the team—Kaidan Alenko, a human biotic? He said that kind of biotic combo would've put so much pressure on your implant, your eyes might've popped right out of your skull, if you were unlucky. If you were lucky? You'd probably go into a coma." Garrus smiled. "Worst Shepard had was a nosebleed that didn't stop for over five minutes."

"Saying 'holy shit' again sounds redundant at this point."

"Yeah…" Garrus pushed away from the wall. "Of course, that was just the combat. Anybody that knew her? They'd tell you what really made her stand apart, is the things she did in places soldiers aren't supposed to go."

"We're talking black ops now?" Sidonis said.

"No—the opposite." Garrus started pacing, walked by his freshly painted armour, imagined seeing the reflection of the Mako in it. "Shepard didn't think she'd really won if she fired a bullet—that was her mindset. You see her talk an irredeemable monster down once, you think she just got lucky—maybe you even think about chewing her out for endangering the mission. You see her do it six more times, though? And then find out this 'reputation' you've heard so much about is her stepping on diplomat's toes rather than the…cowboy sort of thing you're used to hearing…"

Garrus stopped, pulled away from the amour. When he turned around, he saw Sidonis smiling.

"Y'know," Sidonis said, "for someone who's basically got 'gunship diplomacy' tattooed on his carapace…" he paused, chuckled. "Just never thought I'd hear you admit there's a better way, is all."

"Let me put it differently," Garrus said. "When we park a dreadnaught in orbit and say, 'let's negotiate,' we damn well expect them to pick up a gun. Eventually. That dreadnaught? It's getting used at some point. Shepard though…a lot of times the other person never reached for that gun. And a lot of those times they did and she talked them down anyways."

"Holy shit," Sidonis said. He looked at the floor, briefly. "Talk about risking your neck."

"Exactly." Garrus looked back at his armour, then back to Sidonis. "Shepard was the smartest, most capable person I've ever met. When she took risks, she knew how to protect the rear. Some people called her reckless. But people who knew her? They knew she made miracles happen, and the galaxy'd be a far worse place if she'd played everything by the book."

"Yeah…guess I…guess I see a bit more of the bigger picture, now." Sidonis looked up from the floor. "I mean…I'm seeing a bit more of how your brain works. Big risks, sure, but at least you're not trying to convert the Blue Suns to…hell."

"What?"

"I just…I'm trying to buy what you're saying, but…hate me if you want, I'm gonna ask anyways: Shepard's still dead, isn't she?"

Garrus's mandibles twitched…but part of him loved that Sidonis asked that question. Part of him loved it because now? Now he had his slam-dunk argument.

"She is," he said. "And you want to know how she died?"

Sidonis blinked, didn't say anything.

"She died on patrol," Garrus said. "A mop-up mission. As low stakes as you could get. I was back at C-SEC, raiding a stockpile of tainted eezo—million times more dangerous than reconning a trading route—and somehow, Shepard's the one that got killed." Garrus's brow dropped. "How's that supposed to make sense?"

Sidonis didn't say anything, not for a good long while. But Garrus could tell, he'd hit his mark. Sidonis picked up on the subtext: you can plan and plan and plan all you want, but even the safest missions have casualties…and sometimes everyone comes back alive from a suicide mission.

"Fucked up universe we live in, huh?" Sidonis said eventually.

"And then some," Garrus said.

Sidonis was on board, and the plan went off without a hitch. Fake an emergency on the transport ship, wait until any Eclipse without emergency training vacated the ship, sneak on board and take out everyone while they were prepping to fight a fire…then line the halls with sticky grenades and overload traps, line up in the halls, fire a few rounds into the initial boarding party…and knock out the lights when that idiot Lieutenant tried to retake the ship with mechs that barely fit through the door.

Turned out that was Jaroth's brother. Turned out that made the Eclipse very interested in Garrus's team. Turned out that when everyone saw six people in similar-looking armour leave the ship, and dock workers started yelling about how the eezo was unstable get the hell back…Jaroth noticed that some locals were calling the group "Archangel" and put together a file. The Blood Pack used that story to beat the Eclipse over the head with their own failure until eight people in similar looking armour defended a medical clinic that hadn't paid the "protection" fee on time. Then they made a file. And then the Suns…so on and so on and so on.

Things picked up steam quick—quicker than Garrus anticipated. It was a risk…but everyone performed their jobs perfectly. Sidonis was reliable and the others (the others…the others) were the best damn team Garrus could've hoped for.

Things picked up steam quick…Aria was going to be in firing distance sooner than she realized. Maybe it was going too quick, but Garrus took notes on risk-taking from the best. Wasn't good enough for the universe—maybe it'd be good enough for Omega.

But all that drifted by Garrus's brain like he was skimming a police report. Jaroth, the Blood Pack, the others (the others the others the others) faded into details, like what kind of car a drug kingpin was driving when Traffic Patrol got lucky and ticketed him.

No, what he focused on was right after Sidonis left, when he locked the door to his room and pushed aside the freshly pained blue and black armour. Behind that was a board covered in pictures and paper and pins. Right now, it was just his board. Soon enough, the others would see it—and when they did, it'd become real, and all the plans he'd made to convince the rest (Sidonis and...and the others) that he was on the right track? It'd be tested, and he'd see if he could convince people to follow him into hell even half as well as Shepard had.

The board had divisions. Eezo and tech: that was Eclipse. Muscle and fear—Blood Pack. Credits and commerce: the Suns. Eclipse had Jaroth, Blood Pack had Garm, and neither of them had the smarts or experience to rule Omega. Tarak had both and he had money; he'd have Omega all to himself if there wasn't somebody already at the top.

That's where everything on the board led to—the top.

Tarak had pull. If he'd earned it himself, then someone had respect for him—respect enough to let him do his own thing while he murdered thousands every week. If he'd been given everything he thought he controlled, then he wasn't anything more than a pimp with an army—a trash-heap you knocked around a bit until they told you who was really giving the orders.

Either way, Tarak'd be the most important warning message "Archangel" could send, and that meant building him up just to tear him down.

Hit Garm—make him weak. Find a way to cut off his vorcha supply and watch his krogan troops walk or collapse from exhaustion. Hit Jaroth harder—keep that wound open and keep it there until Illium pulled the plug. Let Tarak eat up territory without a single new recruit, a single new merchant, a single new credit. Then? Hang his body in front of Afterlife, and tell Aria there wasn't a gang left on this station for her to hide behind.

It wasn't a perfect plan...but it'd come together. He'd get more eyes on it and whatever pieces he'd been missing, they'd find their way into the final strategy before long.

In his memory, Garrus held up a talon to Tarak's picture.

"You first," he said.

He moved the talon towards the centre, onto the face of an scowling asari.

"Then...you," he said.

And then one corner of the universe would have some justice, and when the Reaper's rolled over everyone they'd at least have to say: this cesspool managed to clean itself up.

Maybe darkness isn't invincible after all.

5.

Kaidan watched Garrus eye that scope for…god, what, forever? He'd pulled away and set the rifle onto his back just a second ago but…whatever was going on inside his head, it was eating him alive.

Yeah…right…"whatever was going on inside his head." Like Kaidan didn't have a general idea. That was the thing, you know, it was only general but…well, put the pieces together, a healthy dose of context…some attempts at basic empathy….

Ash, she'd said—back on the Rayya—that Garrus refused, point blank, to talk about Omega. And that made sense he'd basically…well he'd been acting like he was trapped in a cage for most of that mission, and god knows Omega gave off that kind of vibe. But that was it that was everything: no names, no dates, no information about what exactly went down—not even when they stepped onto the Citadel for the first time in several forevers. They only knew about his team because Legion and EDI did a search for them.

So…yeah, Kaidan had a general idea. Harkin had hid the person Garrus figured was responsible for his team getting killed, because Harkin would stick his neck out for a quick buck but not so far to be directly responsible for it all. Garrus needed him for information. And the man who'd nearly stabbed a quarian Admiral was going to do something terrible to that person. Maybe Harkin, just because that seemed more in character for Garrus than it used to be.

So what's your choice, Commander? You going to let him?

In the final analysis, the way a thing goes down…it matters how you acted. How you let others act. Knowing…that you acted with integrity…it mattered. Because that final analysis included those sentient warships from everyone's deepest, darkest, nightmares, and if your principles folded…then nothing mattered.

Except, that was easy for Kaidan to say. How do you go and tell a hurting friend that principles matter when they don't even believe the universe makes sense? How do you tell that to someone who's acting like nothing mattered already, save for getting through another day without seeing another dead body?

God, Kaidan hoped that was the issue. If Garrus just wanted blood—plain and simple, nothing deeper than that—then…hell, it didn't make a difference. Sorry, Commander: my tactical assessment is to disregard everything that comes out of my mouth, because I can't guarantee I'll say the same thing two minutes later.

Garrus finally stood up, turned to Kaidan. Soon you'd have the choice taken right from you, Commander. Make up your mind: pick a leadership style and hope you picked well. Hadn't had any trouble so far, had you?

"Harkin won't know I'm back," Garrus said. "I can work with this. I just need to corner him before he can squeal for help and deal with whatever happens after the fact."

"You're talking about the real target?" Kaidan said. "What you need to do to finally track them down?"

"No—I'm talking about what to do with the Blue Suns. If they come running, we might have a fight after all."

"I was under the distinct impression you wanted to avoid something like that."

Garrus's mandibles clicked again. "That was before I saw Harkin. He won't talk easy—I might have to work him a bit."

"Can't say that's how I remember him."

"Only one of us ever wore the uniform, Kaidan."

Then Garrus hugged the nearest wall and started towards a decrepit-looking silver door just a few metres away.

Commander—permission to engage a colleague? That help at all, Alenko? Pretending it was two years ago and the rank was back where it belonged? God…he didn't know for sure, but he'd bet money that he was starting to sound like Ash.

"Garrus, hold up a sec," he said.

Garrus did…but Kaidan could tell he was looking at a flight risk. Kaidan shuffled forward and hugged the same wall, just next to Garrus.

"Before we go any further, I need to ask you a question."

Click went Garrus's mandibles.

"Can it wait until we're inside? If anyone picks right now to look up then working Harkin will be the least violent thing I do to this factory."

Kaidan blinked. "Yeah sure—fine. Talk inside, so long as we actually have it." He took a step around Garrus but, Jesus, a hand pushed him back hard enough that he almost caught on his heels.

"No—I'm leading this," Garrus said. "Follow my lead, and keep quiet until I give the all-clear."

Garrus went to the door—an old manual one with the rough outline of a doorhandle—and…Kaidan followed, because what else could he do? Through the door, around two corners, past what they thought was a security checkpoint—if Garrus was stringing him along then this'd get messy for a whole other reason. But eventually Garrus pulled them what the schematics showed was a supply closet dedicated solely to mops and, when the door shut, leaned in close enough to Kaidan that the fringe of the turian-armour nearly caught Kaidan's nose.

"You've got five minutes," Garrus said. "Until Harkin's told me everything I need to know, we're on a tight schedule."

All right, Commander…moving into position. Check the rubble at FEBA: looks like prime cover for an ambush.

Oh god he was starting to sound like Ash, wasn't he?

"How…do turians typically deal with trauma?"

Garrus just stared—didn't even blink he just…stared. Right up until that expression turned into a scowl. Right around then, Kaidan, uh, started to realize how tight a space this was.

"You're joking," Garrus said.

"No, no—I'm being honest. It's an honest question. I just—"

"Look me right in the face and tell me this question is worth my time." Garrus leaned forward. "Or is this some comic book reference I wouldn't get just like last time?"

"Y'know what? If Batman and Robin had more arguments about their mental health inside a broom closet, that whole run would've been a lot less tragic. And no I don't know how to make that sound more mature, but the fact is: I'm being serious, Garrus."

Garrus just stared again. That look didn't get any friendlier, though.

"Well I'm not Batman, whoever the hell that is," he said. "What I am, is someone on a timetable with two years riding on this—two years, Kaidan, on one shot, one mission, one chance."

"You almost stabbed an Admiral, and now you're here." Kaidan gave himself a bit more room—just barely. "Sorry, Garrus, but this…if you can't see how that was an honest question, I'm at a loss. I mean it—this whole thing is supposed to help you. Answer my question and I can be a lot more effective."

"You're a military officer, not a psychologist."

"No," Kaidan said, "right now I'm a guy who gets headaches and holds onto the omni-gel—headaches, omni-gel, and a…newfound fear of tight spaces. I don't know what the hell I am. Trying hard as hell to help a friend, maybe, but even that's gonna depend on just how stubborn you want to be while we're trapped here."

Click, click, click…god it was…all right, so, question of the day answered: being that close to Garrus Vakarian only gave Kaidan anxiety, nothing else. Good to know. But the actually important facts were still—

No, wait, Garrus just looked like he bit down on something sour.

"Fine. Fine. We're well-trained and well-disciplined and it's beaten into us—basically at gun-point—that our lines are only as strong as the weakest link. Happy?"

Kaidan blinked.

"That's an answer to a completely different question."

"Then what the hell kind of answer are you fishing for?" Garrus pushed closer. "If you want a peak into how a turian deals with life, it doesn't work that way. We look to the person above us that made the call and pity the son of a bitch when they have to inform the widows. Same damn thing happens in C-SEC: when the mission goes wrong, the responsibility starts and stops at your supervisor's signature."

And, again…Kaidan blinked.

"And there we go," he said.

Garrus, finally, pushed backwards. "Spirits, Kaidan—sorry to ruin your mood but you didn't just make a breakthrough."

"I wanted to know how you coped with seeing the bodies of friends. You brought it around to leadership."

"I started there and you didn't think my answer counted." Garrus's face, almost like he was reacting to shoving a talon into a ship's engine, changed the moment he stopped talking. "And what the hell are you talking about?"

"It wasn't an answer, Garrus," Kaidan said. "It was…just think about it for a second—think about what you just told me. You just explained how to deal with bad orders and that's not—"

"So this is about your leadership, then? That it?" Garrus closed in again. "You drag me in here—with Harkin out there—and all I'm getting is a second-hand sermon on how your promotion makes you feel bad—is that right?"

"God, Garrus, no it isn't," Kaidan said.

"Then what the hell is this about?"

"Let's just clear the air, here: I can tell—honest—that you're deflecting, and—"

"What the hell's the point, Kaidan?"

"The point is I've spent the last god-knows how long worried sick that the only time you feel comfortable is when someone's head is in your scope!"

A quick burst of silence—a part of Kaidan thought they'd both end up checking to see if they alerted the guards. But Garrus pushed forward yet again and held up a talon.

"One head," he said. "One head, one time. After that, all this is behind me."

Once again…Kaidan blinked.

"I'm calling bull."

"Tough. I don't need you here, Kaidan. If you can't handle this—"

"I've known you for two years, Garrus. Two. Years. Killing someone was never how you coped before."

"Saleon," Garrus said. "Dr. Saleon—it's the exact same situation."

And…the moment Garrus said it, he regretted it, because he knew that wasn't how it played out—he knew Shepard had—

—"All right. In that situation? As described? Yeah, I'd take the shot."

"All right…" Garrus looked at Shepard hesitantly. "So what's your question?"

"Is this about Dr. Saleon?"

"—know that's not what happened," Kaidan was trying to say, over the roaring in Garrus's skull. "Not what Shepard let happen—"

He was staring at Shepard again.

"All right. In that situation? As described? Yeah, I'd take the shot."

"All right…" Garrus looked at Shepard hesitantly. "So what's your question?"

"Is this about Sidonis?"

They were in "Dr. Heart's" vessel, now, watching him behind a fogged window stained with handprints. "Apologies, Officer Vakarian," Saleon was saying. "I don't think I can handle this anymore," Sidonis said in Saleon's place.

He tried to say something to Kaidan—it sounded like Kaidan was talking faster than the speed of light, repeating the same thing on and on and on and on.

"Is this about Sidonis?" Shepard asked again. ""This is clearly eating you up. So, how do you want to deal with him?"

She was a risk taker she…she'd take risks to make sure the mission was completed the way it needed to be completed. Garrus wasn't trying to be different he wasn't—it was the same damn idea but with a far less capable person calling the shots. Not Alenko, not Williams, not anyone else—him.

"How do you want to deal with him?"

"I don't know."

Bodies on the ground, Erash torn apart, black oxidized blood reaching out from his corpse like flayed fingers (the others…);

Krul laying over Ripper, Spirits, he'd been trying to revive him, just trying to get his friend back and standing (the others the others…);

Monteague didn't have a spine anymore, his back was just collapsed like someone had dropped something on him from orbit;

Vortash and Sensat and Butler torn apart, blast holes everywhere, gunship—had to be the gunship;

Melenis and Mierin's bodies still crackling from the warp field that ate them alive and how come he could only remember their faces when he came back here? How come he could only remember their NAMES when he CAME BACK HERE? Every other time he closed his eyes every other time he tried to remember them it was JUST SIDONIS he was KILLING THEM ALL OVER AGAIN because the only time he REMEMBERED was when he was COVERED IN THEIR BLOOD—

"Can I ask," Sidonis said, back in that bar on Omega, "are you just here because…are you just looking at the Reapers and thinking, here, on Omega, I can pretend I'm not powerless?"

Kaidan was looking at him. Garrus knew what he needed to do.

Besides, he'd be safer this way.

"You want me on this mission, I need a clear head," he said. "Everything else? Doesn't even register—not a damn bit."

"Have you—even been listening to me—for the past minute?" Kaidan said, trying to move in limited space. A limitation Garrus's arm didn't have. "It's not as simple as that—it's—"

"It is that simple. And if you can't see things for what they are, then I'm sorry, but you've left me no choice."

"Garrus what the hell are you talking ab—"

Garrus's head snapped forward. The thick carapace of his forehead made contact with the bridge of Kaidan's nose, and when that only staggered the marine, Garrus reared back and hit him again. Down went Kaidan—sorry, Commander, but it had to be done.

Garrus buried him in the mops and left the closet.

The rest of the way was clear—Kaidan had done his job. Up a flight of stairs, cut through a loose section of ceiling, clamper over boxes and crates…it took Garrus about ten minutes to get where he needed to be. And where he needed to be, was a central processing area guarded by a lonely office, perched right up top an ascending mountain of Spirits knew what. Contraband, most likely—weapons, gunship parts. Probably used to be more here, but Harkin seemed to think the Suns were struggling after Omega. Maybe they were…but Garrus was long past caring.

The place was perfect: Harkin's office had a skylight, big open spaces, and easily defensible window overlooking what might as well've been a canyon. Perfect to funnel any backup his way, if he needed. He'd been here before—same uniforms, same target in the back of his mind. Wouldn't be a problem—he just needed to get Harkin to talk.

That…shouldn't be a problem either.

Whatever clients Harkin had, they'd finished up. He was alone.

Good. Garrus took two steps, injected a full unit of omni-gel into his legs…and leapt.

Harkin saw the outline of something coming at him from above just as Garrus smashed his way through the skylight. It poured glass and slivers of metal and, if Harkin hadn't seen the shadow, Garrus would've landed right on his neck. Lucky for him…lucky for both of them.

But not for much longer.

"J-J-Jesus, what the fuck are you—"

"Lantar Sidonis," Garrus said, his pistol out and pointing at Harkin's knee. "You made him disappear. You reverse your handiwork and I make sure you still have a functioning spine, understand?"

Harkin was pushing himself backwards, pulling himself over the glass…until he finally looked up and saw who was staring down at him.

"Garrus…? Jesus fucking Christ, you. Fuck me, what the hell're you doing here?"

Garrus took a step forward, stared down at Harkin's leg…and stomped.

"GAH! You…you sonuvabitch you, you fucking FUCK."

"I told you what I want," Garrus said, taking another step forward. His pistol trained its way towards Harkin's torso. "You're not making this easy on yourself, so I'm not feeling any guilt. Keep it up, though, and it'll stop being fun for the both of us real quick."

"Gee…thanks a fucking million for the warning."

Harkin tried to stand, nearly had his leg buckle out from him. So…Garrus stopped playing around. Talon's on Harkin's throat, he flung him as hard as he could into the nearest wall and pressed his forearm onto Harkin's Adam's apple.

"guh—Huhph you…you FUCK I can't—I can't goddamn—"

"Talk, Harkin," Garrus said, letting up the pressure only slightly. "If you can't make it happen then you'd better tell me now. Last thing I want to do is waste my time skinning you alive when I could shoot you and call it a day."

"Okay—okay!" Harkin coughed, regained his breath. "You gotta understand, Garrus, there're rules, all right? Rules I gotta follow. Biggest one is…"

Then…Garrus saw, emerging behind the ragged breath like a vorcha, a grin.

"…if Garrus Vakarian wants something, it ain't gonna happen. Understand?"

Garrus didn't think—he just acted. His hand closed around Harkin's throat and he turned—he was staring out that window overlooking the canyon of Blue Suns merchandise or New Dawn merchandise or whatever the hell was inside—and then he was watching Harkin go head first into that glass. A red dot appeared where Harkin first touched it, then that red dot birthed cracks that spidered every-which direction, and then Harkin was sailing through a snowstorm and out onto a platform, ringed by a red safety bar that kept clumsy idiots from tumbling to their deaths.

Garrus climbed through that broken window, and Harkin—crimson pouring down his head, one eye swollen shut already—stumbled backwards, towards the bar, holding up his hands like he was trying to steady himself and push Garrus away at the same time.

"Hey—HEY! All right, Garrus—FUCK'S SAKE! You win, okay? You win I'm not dying for some fucking bum that—"

Garrus punched him so hard he rocked the safety bar, the red thing groaning and spitting up a screw as it bent around Harkin's back. Then Garrus's hand was on Harkin's throat before and Harkin was dangling above that canyon, a good twenty-five feet above any solid ground. There was a platform about ten below, just off to the side, but Garrus wasn't aiming for that. He was aiming for the full drop, the only thing between Harkin's boots and the floor being a deconstructed YMIR mech and some assorted spare scrap.

"What the f—I'M TELLING YOU YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!" Harkin kicked out his legs—it didn't make a difference.

"Insurance," Garrus said. "Now give me the location. I want his home, I want his work, I want the place where he tries to eat and drink and pretend he isn't responsible for the death of TEN GOOD MEN, Harkin. You tell me that and this ENDS, it FINALLY—FUCKING—ENDS, HARKIN."

Then…Garrus heard something scuff the floor. Harkin heard it too. They both turned to Garrus's left…

…and standing there was Kaidan, blood dripping from his nose, his hand outstretched, his body glowing biotic purple.

"Put him down, Garrus," he said. "Put him down…and step back."

"This guy's fucking CRAZY!" Harkin said, squirming in Garrus's grip. "J-just fucking SHOOT HIM ALREAD—GACK!"

"The only thing leaving your mouth should be coordinates," Garrus said, squeezing his talon's around Harkin's neck once more. "And you, Kaidan—I already told you. You want me on the mission? This needs to happen."

"It doesn't," Kaidan said. "I need Garrus Vakarian. I don't need whatever the hell this is."

"THIS IS GARRUS VAKARIAN!" He squeezed Harkin's neck more. "This is the same turian that could never stomach injustice. THIS IS THE SAME TURIAN THAT'D SOONER EAT HIS GUN THAN LET THESE FUCKING ANIMALS WIN! Why can't people just realize that this is who I am and that Sidonis deserves EVERYTHING I'VE GOT PLANNED FOR HIM?"

Kaidan took one step forward. "Right now, Garrus…right now, I'm feeling the same thing I felt the first time I saw Shepard. Cerberus's Shepard. I can't recognize you for the life of me."

Garrus stopped squeezing Harkin's throat—almost enough to drop him.

"End this on your own terms, Garrus," Kaidan said. "Don't make me do it for you."

"Is this about Sidonis?" Shepard said.

"Is this about Saleon?" Shepard said.

"Is this about you?" Shepard said.

Garrus felt the energy give out in his arm…and then, Harkin was falling.

"No no NO!" Garrus heard Harkin say that just as his head passed the safety bar. Kaidan was sprinting forward and a biotic orb was flying from his hand, but Garrus couldn't lift his arm it was dead he couldn't move it. The orb hit Harkin and he floated there, just for a second, and Kaidan reached—Kaidan reached over the bar and grabbed a hold of Harkin's wrist.

The bar spit up another screw. Then another. Then another. Then…it just gave way.

Garrus's arm was still dead.

Kaidan collided with Harkin and the purple energy disappeared, and then they were gone, downwards, twenty-five feet Spirits his arm was dead and there was a quick thunk and, no, Spirits, no he heard exactly what he knew a body sounded like he heard EXACTLY what it sounded like when a body his something sharp at high speeds.

There was no way down. No way down and his arm was dead. He looked over the ledge where the safety bar used to be.

Harkin was impaled on the YMIR mech.

Kaidan was in a heap right next to him.

No.

Spirits no.

No this wasn't—this couldn't—

Erash. Krul. Ripper.

Monteague. Vortash. Sensat.

Butler. Melenis. Mierin.

Kaidan.

"Is this about you, Garrus Vakarian?" Shepard said.

Then...

---

Patient Transcript 07-006-4456

Date: 14th Cycle of the Third Age of Reformation

Subject: Garrus Vakarian

Referring Psychologist: Run'Gar vas Rayya

Translation: Cipritinian [DIALECT: TURIAN] to Ancestral Language

TRANSCRIPT BEGINS:

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RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Mr…Vakarian, sir? I'm Run'Gar vas Rayya—feel free to, err, just call me Run if you wish. I'm a psychologist aboard the, well, the Rayya."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "A court-ordered psychologist named 'Run'? I thought you didn't do executions."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Yes, the name has…well that's come up more than once. Believe it or not, though, my being here hasn't anything to do with the judicial system. I'm here as a favour to one of your crewmates."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "You can use Tali's name, you know. Not like anyone else'd bother."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "You don't think the rest of your crew cares about your mental health?"

GARRUS VAKARIAN (patient shakes head): "That's all you're getting from me." (patient turns up volume on viewing screen) "You're probably better off reading something into nothing someplace quieter."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Well…if it's all right with you, I'm going to give it one more go." (psychologist sits next to Patient). "I'll tell you a bit about myself, if you want. I'm more of a cognitive scientist-slash-academic psychologist: most of my days are spent looking at statistical regressions rather than…well, there's a pun in there somewhere, for those who believe in the other sort."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "I didn't believe you could murder humour. Turns out I was wrong."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Yes uh, fair enough. My point is, I don't have all that much direct experience with a clinical environment—though I do try my best to get in some clinical practice, as much as I can."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "So I'm a guinea pig? Word of advice, doctor: I've got a bad history with people like that. Feel free to read whatever you want into that sentence."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "That's…well, if there's time and consent on your part we might indeed come back to that. But, actually, what I'm trying to communicate is that I've little practice when it comes to the art of conversation. I'm not in a position to manipulate you. All I can do is take what clinical experience I have and make the rest of your stay more comfortable."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "I assaulted an Admiral, and we're worried about me being comfortable?"

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "What's been communicated to me, Garrus, is that you've been…out of sorts, for lack of better phrasing. I've been told you're a rather, um, cool customer; a strategic genius as well."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "And now I'm dumb and emotional?"

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "No no no I—apologies, that's on me. See? Not so good with this, am I? No, your strategic acumen isn't being questioned. In fact, I've been told you put together an impressive plan to get off the Alarei."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "All the heavy lifting was done by a geth. Yeah, I'm just as surprised as you we're all still alive."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Right. Yes…the geth will…well that's a different discussion. What's been communicated about your plans, though, is that they had a fairly singular goal in mind: escape."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "You're right. We should've been closer to the bombs when they went off. Damn careless of us, if you ask me."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Well before that point, though. You had a need to escape well before that point."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "On a ship lined with corpses and filled with who-knows how many geth platforms? Yeah, you're right, I figured we'd be better off elsewhere."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Don't turian patrols refuse to pull back until being met with overwhelming force?"

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "Give yourself three years to work through the bureaucracy and you can get a hold of my service record. You'll see I'm not a very good turian."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "And why is that?"

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "Because people behind desks have to justify their salaries."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "I meant: why aren't you a good turian?"

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "Because we're trained to resist interrogation, so I should've shut up seven questions ago."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "I don't think I've asked seven…mm, very well. Do you mind, Garrus, if I try hitting that quota? You don't have to answer any of them—you don't even have to feign a response if you don't want to—but I wouldn't mind asking them anyways. Just in case you do want to respond."

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "Haven't dissuaded you so far—can't imagine I'd be very successful now."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "I see. Well, all right then, first question: Would you say you've experienced a rather sudden personality change? Are you feeling more aggressive or quick to anger?"

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "That's two."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "You've been feeling both those things?"

GARRUS VAKARIAN: "That's two questions. Now you've hit three. One more and you're at your quota."

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Right, well, we'll call that a start. I've a few more besides seven, Garrus. Next question: Have you experienced any intrusive thoughts or images? Specifically, ones around and events or persons that you're trying very hard to avoid?"

(silence for 3.7 seconds)

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Have you noticed difficulty concentrating? And if so, have these episodes corresponded to moments of heightened panic?"

(silence for 4.6 seconds)

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Have you recently experienced vivid flashbacks, Garrus?"

(silence for 5.2 seconds)

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "This one is a...a bit of a personal question, I'll say. Err, professional curiosity—that's better. Have you felt youtself becoming fatalistic lately?"

(silence for 4.4 seconds)

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "That's a loaded question—my apologies. Do you feel trapped, would be a better way of asking it. Do you feel as though there is a path you are ineluctably following?"

(silence for 3.2 seconds)

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Do you find your thoughts being drawn to a singular thing?"

(silence for 2.8 seconds)

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Garrus? No response to any of those?"

(silence for 2.4 seconds)

RUN'GAR VAS RAYYA: "Garrus?"

TRANSCRIPT ENDS:

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Well uh...yeah that's the end of Part I. I, uh, guess.

I'll uh, keep it short and see you folks at the next Author's Note.