"Why there?" she finally asked the question he was dreading.
He felt his mandibles tighten involuntarily. He'd known this moment was coming, yet that didn't make it any easier...
From the top of the hill, Garrus tried to take in the landscape, but the dense forest made it difficult to get a clear view. Still, he recognized enough landmarks to determine their location. The human ship had crash-landed in Sector Eight, or Har'tol, as locals called it.
The slavers couldn't have taken them too far from the crash site—that much he knew with certainty. Garrus needed to figure out which part of Sector Eight they were in, though the years had blurred some of the landmarks in his memory.
There had been a time, when he could navigate this place blindfolded, when all the batarian names of its regions were etched into his mind by countless missions pursuing local scum. The memories surfaced unbidden—nights spent tracking rats, the satisfaction of bringing them to justice, the rage at finding their victims too late. But that had been almost a decade ago, before the war changed everything.
If his memory served him right, and he prayed to the Spirits it did, Har'tol was divided into four areas. Quadrant One, or Vekarn, was likely their current position. Loosely translated from batarian as 'Twilight Grove,' the district was mostly dense forest. Garrus immediately recognized its tall trees that blocked out much of the sunlight, creating a perpetual dusk under the canopy.
If this was Quadrant One, then he knew exactly where they needed to go. And therein lay the problem that was tearing him apart.
The Alliance ship hadn't gone down in Quadrant Three, despite what Katie believed and what the initial report had suggested. Three was where the vessel had been spotted by turian outpost scanners, where the ship's navigation system had transmitted its final signal before going silent.
The humans had managed to stay airborne longer than anyone expected, finally crash-landing in Quadrant Four, southeast of their position. That's where the shuttle had dropped off Garrus and his team, and where the search party would be. The rescue team would slowly push into other quadrants, expanding their perimeter, but Four was Garrus's best chance of finding them.
As he stood at the ridge, the cool wind brushing against his plating, his thoughts grew heavier. What could he possibly tell Katie when she inevitably asked why they were heading to Four? The truth tasted like ash in his mouth: Because it's where his people waited to recover their captain and any surviving humans.
His people.
He'd never mentioned this to Katie, telling himself there was no point, that it was her only way off this planet, that nothing could change this reality. But deep in his heart, he knew that was a lie. The real reason was far more selfish: he couldn't bear to see the look on her face, couldn't stand to witness the moment of realization dawn in those expressive eyes. The knowledge that she had escaped batarian captors only to be delivered into turian hands would destroy something precious between them—the connection they'd forged against all odds. The thought of losing that was almost more than he could bear. And he found himself wishing, for the first time in his life, that duty wasn't quite so clear-cut.
He walked downhill to where she was waiting, resting under the sprawling trees and hiding from the sun. It was late in the afternoon, the solar radiation wasn't supposed to harm her anymore, but Garrus couldn't shake the protective instinct that had taken root in his chest. He had insisted she waited in the shadows. Katie had smiled at his request, a gentle expression that made his heart beat a little faster, and promised she would.
The first thing he did was toss her a pack of water.
She needed to drink more—he kept reminding her of that. Every time he did, she would roll her eyes at him in that peculiar human way, a gesture he had come to find endearing. It was a funny expression—'cute' was her human word for it. She had been making fun of him more and more, and he didn't mind one bit. Her smiles, once rare, now came easily and often, lighting up her face in a way that warmed something deep inside him. Each one was a small victory, a sign that she was healing, not just physically but emotionally. The joy it brought him was almost overwhelming.
She finished the water pack and held it out to him empty. But when he met her gaze, he saw the questions lurking in those violet depths. The playful moment evaporated. Garrus took the pack and tucked it away, using the motion to stall and gather his thoughts. Without meeting her eyes, he muttered, "We need to head southwest," and turned to lead the way.
Though Katie followed without protest, he could feel the weight of her gaze on his back, sharp and questioning. She had proven herself remarkably perceptive about their surroundings, and this change in direction wouldn't go unnoticed. He steeled himself for the questions he knew were coming.
As they walked, the terrain gradually shifted—trees grew denser, and the ground sloped downward. Garrus kept a steady pace, but he noticed Katie falling slightly behind, her brow furrowed in that way it did when she was deep in thought. She was trying to make sense of their surroundings, matching it with the mental map she'd been forming from what he had told her about Lindor.
"Garrus," she finally broke the heavy silence, her voice carrying equal measures of confusion and concern. "Why are we heading this way?"
Here it was—the moment he'd been dreading.
He just kept walking, trying to buy time to formulate a response. The bushes were too thick, making it hard for the human to walk without being scratched by an occasional branch. Garrus was clearing a path and she followed right behind him.
He kept his eyes forward, pushing through the underbrush as he chose his words carefully. "It's the safest route around Quadrant Two," he said, hoping the partial truth would suffice.
"But isn't Quadrant Three northeast?" Katie pressed, her tone sharper now. "We should be heading that way if we want to reach the crash site, right?"
His mandibles tightened. She had been paying attention. When he'd been telling her about Lindor, she'd been listening. She noticed the sun's position, the shift in the landscape, and realized they were moving in a different direction. Smart human.
He stopped and turned to look at her, heart heavy as he saw the doubt and suspicion on her face. "Your ship didn't go down in Quadrant Three," he admitted. "It managed to stay in the air longer than you thought. The crash site is actually in Sierra Basin, Quadrant Four."
He watched as her eyes widened. Sierra Basin might have meant nothing to her, but she understood the quadrant numbers well enough. Four meant southwest—exactly opposite from where she'd thought they were headed.
"So we're going further away from Three?" she asked quietly with the undercurrent of distress.
"That's where the search party will be," Garrus said, trying to keep his tone even, though he knew how this would sound to her.
"The turian search party." The way she emphasized the word made his plates itch. Her tone had hardened, taking on an edge that cut him deeper than he'd expected.
"It's the only way out—" he began, but she didn't let him finish.
"Why didn't you just tell me we were going to Four?" The frustration in her voice rose like a tide. Her hands had balled into fists at her sides, knuckles white with tension.
That look on her face again, the one that bothered him before. Garrus watched her face closely. Even now, after he'd told her the truth about the crash site, her eyes kept drifting northeast, toward Three.
"What's in Quadrant Three, Katie?" His eyes narrowed as he watched her expression falter. Guilt crept into her features, mingling with the anger there. She had her own secrets. Of course she did.
The truth hit him like a mass acceleration round to the chest. "You managed to send an SOS signal to your people, didn't you?" The words came out harsher than he'd intended. "Before your coms went dead."
She said nothing, but her silence was answer enough. She'd kept this from him, all this time.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. It didn't work. "Were you ever going to tell me that?" The indignation in his voice was impossible to suppress.
"Right around the time you were about to tell me we were going to Four," she shot back, words dripping with spite that matched his own.
Their eyes locked in a silent battle, neither willing to back down. Both were tense. This isn't right, Garrus thought. This isn't how it should be.
"Look, Katie..." He took a step toward her, reaching out instinctively.
The flinch that followed would haunt him forever. She stepped back, hands raised in a defensive posture, fingers straining for biotics that wouldn't come. It was pure instinct—the reaction of prey to predator, of a human to a turian. She caught herself almost immediately, lowering her arms, but the damage was done. He's seen the intent. What it made him feel at that moment was simply unfathomable.
With deliberate slowness, he raised his hand in surrender. Then, maintaining eye contact, he reached for his rifle. He saw her whole body tense, tracking his movement like a cornered animal. The weapon felt impossibly heavy as he lifted it from his shoulder and tossed it aside. The thud as it hit the ground seemed to echo through the forest.
"I would never hurt you," he said, sub-vocals carrying all the pain and sincerity he couldn't put into words.
Her face twisted with conflicting emotions—guilt, fear, and something else that made his heart ache. Something that looked like longing, like regret. She took another step back, though he hadn't moved.
"I should have told you about the turian search party," he admitted, holding her gaze. "I was... afraid of how you'd react. Afraid of losing you." The words cost him dearly, exposing vulnerabilities he'd barely admitted to himself.
Her expression softened slightly, the hard edges of anger beginning to blur. "I know," she said averting her eyes, unable to hold his gaze.
His mind was racing, weighing and discarding possibilities at lightning speed. The humans had managed to send a communication before the crash—it changed everything. He'd been so focused on his own mission, that he hadn't considered this alternative. They hadn't encountered any patrols in the woods, which was telling; the batarian rats typically stayed close to their territory, they had no interest at the crash site. Maybe... maybe she really did have a chance, slim as it might be—
No, he stopped himself. Too risky. Too dangerous for her to go there.
"Katie," he finally said, "we don't know if your people even got the signal. We don't knowwhogot the signal. The batarians could have intercepted it. They could have jammed it. For all we know, they're the ones waiting for you down there."
Even as he spoke, he knew his arguments sounded hollow. His logic couldn't compete with her hope. He was grasping at straws, desperately trying to hold onto something—someone—who was slipping away.
"But there's a chance," she insisted. "A chance to get back to my people."
He felt a pang of jealousy at her words, immediately followed by shame. Of course she wanted to return to her people. What did he expect?
"My plan is safer," he said, but it sounded weak, pathetic even.
"Safer for you!" she cried out suddenly, the accusation hanging in the air between them. Her violet flashed with intensity that cut through his defenses.
"It is more certain," he corrected himself. "Please, I can help you."
The desperation in his own words surprised him, a foreign note in usually confident dual-tones.
"I can't," she said in a whisper, barely audible.
She started shivering, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps that set off every protective instinct he possessed. Without thinking, he moved toward her, wanting to comfort, but she stepped backwards, maintaining the distance between them.
"I won't let anyone hurt you. I can guarantee your safety. I promise—"
"I can't!" she growled through her teeth, with more outrage. "I won't go with you, Garrus. I won't be a prisoner again."
Why can't he understand? she thought.
He understood. Spirits help him, he understood perfectly. He'd known this truth all along, had been avoiding it, pushing it to the dark corners of his mind where he wouldn't have to face it.
So he just stood there feeling completely empty. He wouldn't drag her against her will to be captured by his people, just as much as he couldn't go with her and risk being taken by hers. The turian captain would make a lovely trophy for the Alliance. He knew he'd rather die than face that fate.
"So what then?" he asked. "We just... go our separate ways?"
The moment the words left his mouth, they seemed to take on a physical presence. Separate ways. Such a simple phrase, yet it felt wrong, fundamentally wrong, like a violation of some natural law. His chest tightened painfully at the sound of it. The very idea of walking away from her, of turning his back and leaving her behind— it felt like trying to breathe underwater, like fighting against every instinct he possessed. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Not after everything they'd been through.
Katie's eyes met his, and what he saw there nearly broke him. Those depths held a mirror to his own pain, his own desperate longing.
"I don't want to," she admitted. "But I don't see how we have any other choice."
"I can't let you go alone," he protested, voice hoarse with emotion. "It's too dangerous."
"It's okay," she said softly, her demeanor suddenly changing. Her shoulders relaxed, defensive posture dissolving as if she suddenly remembered who he really was—not just any turian, butherturian.
She took a couple of steps toward him, each one deliberate and full of meaning. "You saved my life, Garrus." His name on her lips carried none of the anger from before—only warmth, only gratitude. "You've done more than I could ever ask."
Her words were gentle, but they felt like a goodbye, and that terrified him. Because in this moment, when she was finally looking at him again with complete trust, with that softness that made him shutter, he knew he was about to lose her forever.
Garrus felt himself being drawn irresistibly towards her, his steps quickening to match the beating of his heart. It was racing now. Or was it hers? He couldn't tell. Her proximity had sent his senses into complete overdrive.
"I can't," he didn't recognize his own voice. "I can't let this happen..."
"You always knew this would happen," she said reaching out to touch his mandible. Her warmth sent a jolt through his body, a current of electricity that seemed to connect them on a level beyond the physical. The tenderness of the gesture nearly undid him.
"It's too far away. You are still weak. And without your biotics..."
"You carried me this far," she whispered. "I need to walk the rest of the way on my own..." Her voice caught slightly, and she swallowed hard before continuing, "And I need to go now, while I still can."
Katie's lips trembled with the effort of maintaining composure, and she averted her eyes—looking at him hurt too much. She turned away, every line of her body screaming reluctance even as she steeled herself to leave.
"Wait," the sound tore from his throat before he could stop it, desperate and raw. His hand shot out, catching hers in a grip that was careful despite his urgency. "Come here."
Garrus guided her to a more open area within the thick underbrush. Katie had no idea what he had in mind, but she followed him without question. She always followed him. Her turian.
He removed the medbag from her shoulder and crouched down on the ground. She watched as he began rearranging the contents, setting aside all the stims and water packs for her, leaving just a few empty ones for himself to refill later.
Katie's heart sank at the realization of the gesture. She knelt down beside him and placed her hands over his, halting his actions. "You need those too," she protested.
"I'll manage," he said dismissively, not daring to look at her.
"Garrus..."
"Turians can go days without water. And I won't actually need stims if I don't carry you, silly human," he scoffed. Then continued softer, "You're still recovering. Your body needs time to heal. These will help."
"Please," she said, her fingers tightening over his. "Take at least a couple. I couldn't bear it if..." She couldn't finish the thought, the possibility of him being caught without supplies because of her too painful to voice.
He finally looked at her then, really looked at her, and what she saw in those blue eyes made her breath catch. Concern, fear, resignation, and something deeper, something that she wasn't ready to name. His mandibles flared slightly as he drew in a deep breath, and she felt his hand turn beneath hers, talons ghosting over her skin in what might have been a caress.
"Two," he conceded. "I'll take two." He tucked the stims into his bag with deliberate slowness, as if trying to stretch these final moments between them.
When he reached for her handgun, his movements became almost obsessive. He checked the power cell three times, inspected the thermal clip twice, and ran his talons along the barrel looking for imperfections that might compromise its reliability. The weight of the weapon felt impossibly heavy when he finally returned it to her. They both knew it wasn't enough but it was all he could give her.
They rose to their feet in unison, the forest around stilled, as if nature itself was holding its breath. The time had come, and yet neither of them moved.
"Northeast then," Katie said softly, but her feet remained rooted to the ground. She turned her head toward the dense forest, then back to him, as if memorizing his features one last time. "I suppose I should..."
Then, with a sudden shift in tone, she asked, "Which way is northeast again?" Her exaggerated confusion was so out of place in the gravity of the moment.
"Spirits…" Garrus almost moaned, putting his face in his hand and shaking his head. This was not happening.
"Just kidding, just kidding," she assured him quickly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It was a ghost of the playful banter they'd shared a couple of times now, a final attempt to lighten the crushing weight of their farewell. "It's that way," she pointed into the forest. "Right?"
"Yes!" he nearly shouted, mandibles flaring with equal parts exasperation and fondness.
"Just making sure," she said feigning sweetness, eyes twinkling with mischief. It was easier this way, pretending that this was not their final goodbye.
If he could roll his eyes at her, he would. Instead, his mandibles drew to the sides in what might have been the turian equivalent of a sad smile.
Suddenly, without warning, she was in his arms. Her hands went around his neck, her cheek pressed against his chest plates. She felt so alien and yet so perfect in his embrace. Unable to contain himself, Garrus squeezed his human harder than he should have, making her squeal.
In one fluid motion, he lifted her off the ground, holding her in a bear hug that he wished could last forever. The turian nuzzled into her soft, silky hair.
How did she expect him to ever let her go? In that moment, Garrus wanted nothing more than for her to stay like this, with him, forever. The universe beyond this forest ceased to exist; there was only her, warm, familiar, and in his arms.
Katie knew he wouldn't be the first to end the hug. She shifted gently but firmly, forcing him to put her back on the ground. He did so reluctantly, every fiber of his being protesting as he set her down.
"There is a rock formation, about an hour from our position," he suddenly spoke in a hoarse voice. "It would provide good shelter for the night. You better get there before dark."
He thought about something else. "Give me your hand," Garrus said and she did, trusting him completely.
He took the omni-tool off his arm and carefully put it on hers. It beeped.
"Use it for directions," he instructed, sounding softer now. "And keep track of the sun. Stick to the shadows, whenever you can."
He was doing his best not to let her go, she knew it. The struggle was in every line of his alien face, in the tightness of his mandibles, in the way his talons twitched at his sides, yearning to reach for her. Katie gave him a look Garrus had never seen before—gratitude, sorrow, and something deeper, more profound.
Then she suddenly stepped on her toes and reached for his face. Was she opting for another hug? Garrus was eager to give her one, his arms already beginning to unfold from his sides, ready to envelop her small form. This time, however, he was determined to never let go.
But as he leaned into her, anticipating the familiar embrace, he felt her mouth on his mandible. It wasn't an accidental touch and felt deliberate. Her lips pressed to the side of his face with a soft, moist, barely audible sound. The sensation was foreign yet oddly comforting, sending a shiver through his plates. He didn't know what it was, this strange human gesture, but apparently it meant a lot to her, as her face flooded with red, the color spreading across her cheeks like a Palaven sunset.
When she pulled away, she gave him one last glance, eyes shimmering with unshed water. The tears clung to her lashes, threatening to spill over at any moment. "Thank you, Garrus. For everything."
He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind—arguments for her to stay, declarations of feelings he barely understood, promises he knew he couldn't keep. In the end, he simply nodded, unable to trust his voice, mandibles fluttering with the weight of everything left unsaid.
She turned on her heels sharply and disappeared into the bushes, the lush vegetation swallowing her small form. Garrus just stood there, listening to her go, his keen hearing picking up every snapping twig and rustling leaf. He remained completely still, a statue of confusion and regret, until the sound of her steps vanished in the cacophony of the forest, until her sweet earthy scent dissipated around him completely, until the heat spots her body left on his were completely gone, cooled down by the cruel Lindor air.