Content Warning: Non-Con/Attempted Rape Scene
Katie stumbled through the forest, vision blurred by a veil of tears. The unfamiliar vegetation scratched at her skin as she pushed forward, each branch and leaf a reminder of how far from home she truly was. Her heart ached with pain deeper than any physical wound, fueled by anger and confusion.
Why was he doing this to her? Even as she increased the distance between them, his presence lingered, an invisible tether she couldn't seem to break—the ghost of his talons against her skin, gentle despite their deadly sharpness, the sound of his rumbling voice, vibrating through her entire body when he held her close.
She wiped angrily at her eyes, hating herself for this weakness. What had she expected? That the war wouldn't matter? That they could somehow exist in this bubble forever, where species and sides didn't define them? And yet... those piercing blue eyes, the way his mandibles fluttered at her smile, his fierce protectiveness when danger threatened—none of it had been a lie.
The universe had a cruel sense of humor, she thought. Of all the beings in the galaxy she could have formed this connection with, it had to be him. A turian. The enemy. The very embodiment of everything she was supposed to hate.
But she couldn't hate him. Not Garrus. Not after everything they'd been through together. Not after he'd carried her through hell itself, keeping her warm, safe, andsane.
The branches snagged at his tunic—still draped around the shoulders like a reminder of him taking care of her—as if the forest itself was trying to pull Katie back to him. But she pushed on, each step taking her further from the one place she felt truly safe in this nightmare: his arms.
The rocky formation loomed ahead, exactly where he had said it would be. Its jagged silhouette rose above the canopy of low-growing trees, bathed in the fading light of an alien sunset. Katie paused, leaning against a tree trunk to catch her breath. The bark was too smooth beneath her palms, nothing like the trees of Earth.
The omni-tool beeped insistently, a sound she'd been ignoring for some time now. The alien device on her wrist only served to emphasize the humanity's technological gap. She remembered the wonder she had felt as a child when they had discovered the Charon Relay—their gateway to the stars. How quickly that wonder had turned to ash in her mouth.
The galaxy should have been her people's greatest adventure—a chance to learn from civilizations that had flourished for millennia before Earth discovered mass effect fields. Instead, their first stumbling steps into the cosmic community had led to war. Now all their technological leaps, all their potential, were being channeled into a single purpose—finding better ways to kill turians.
She never hated turians, despite her father's warnings. "They'll follow orders without question," he'd tell her, his voice heavy with experience from years of combat. "Cold, calculating, uncompromisingly loyal to duty. Never forget what they are."
But she saw the weariness in his eyes, matching her own silent wish for something different. Humanity wasn't meant for endless war—they were explorers, dreamers. Like the asari, they thrived on pure creation and could be so much more than soldiers.
Peace advocates emerged each year, their voices growing stronger within the Alliance. Katie had clung to that hope, imagining a future where discovery and progress replaced destruction. A world where species didn't define loyalty, where barriers between races could finally give way to cooperation and harmony. A better world.
Her father would have smiled sadly at such naïve dreams. She understood now why—eight years of war had taught her what he had already known. That world didn't exist.
How could it, if it had a place in it for people like Balak or Theia? For hells like Lindor?
This was reality—hard choices, clear lines, brutal truths. Therealworld where she had to pick a side. Where she couldn't stay in Garrus's arms, no matter how safe they felt.
Fresh tears welled up as she remembered the look on his face when they had parted. His eyes burning with that fierce protectiveness she'd come to know so well. He'd been terrified for her, not knowing what she knew—that her people were coming. The transmission had gone through.
He probably would have followed her if she'd asked, despite everything. But she couldn't bear the thought of what would happen when the Alliance found them. They would show no mercy to a turian, killing him, or worse, parading him as a trophy of war.
So she'd chosen to keep him safe the only way she could. The irony wasn't lost on her. After everything he'd done to protect her, here she was, protecting him by breaking both their hearts.
Katie slid down the trunk and buried her face in hands. Sobs wracked her body, the kind that came from somewhere deep. She allowed herself this moment of complete surrender to grief, hoping that if she could just cry hard enough, long enough, the hollow ache in her chest might finally ease.
The alien landscape darkened around her, and twin moons rose in the sky, their yellowish glow casting strange shadows through the leaves. Katie knew she couldn't stay so exposed. The practical voice in her head, the one that sounded suspiciously like Garrus, urged to find shelter. But as she struggled to her feet, legs shaky from exhaustion and emotion, a rustle in the nearby bushes froze her in place.
"Garrus?" she whispered, hope stirring within. For one breathless moment, she imagined his tall figure emerging from the shadows, mandibles flared in that expression she'd come to recognize as his smile.
She turned toward the sound only to meet a fist that exploded against her temple. Pain burst through her skull as darkness claimed her.
The omni-tool beeped one final time before falling silent.
Garrus's mind was in disarray as he trudged through the forest. His thoughts kept circling back to Katie, unable to let go. What had he been thinking, letting her walk into this wilderness alone? They might not have encountered any rats so far, but that meant nothing. The slavers were out there, hunting. And all she had was a handgun—a mere toy against the dangers that lurked in these woods, especially with her biotics still depleted.
Each passing moment pressed heavier against his chest, threatening to crush his keel bone. Every rustle in the undergrowth, every distant animal cry seemed to mock his decision, reminding him of her vulnerability. His female, alone out there.
He should have escorted her closer to Quadrant Three, consequences be damned. What was the risk to himself compared to her safety? He could have found his way back to his people afterward.
But something kept nagging at him, scratching at the edges of his consciousness like a half-remembered nightmare. Was it something she'd said? No... Something else...
His pace slowed to a crawl, taloned feet dragging through the underbrush. He was in no hurry to get anywhere anymore. Each step scattered pieces of himself like shed scales, marking a trail of regret.
He tried to focus on practicalities—she had water, food, the omni-tool to warn of solar radiation. His mandibles twitched as he remembered her face when he'd restocked her bag, how she'd insisted on him taking more supplies. Worrying about him, even then.
The omni-tool...
She could handle a gun now, he knew that much. After everything she'd endured in that pit, after facing horrors that would break lesser beings, he was sure, she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. The thought brought him little comfort.
The omni-tool!
It had beeped.
Why in the Spirits' name had it beeped?
The realization drove the air from his lungs.
Garrus froze. In that moment of horrified clarity, his body reacted before his mind could fully process the danger, pivoting so sharply his talons carved grooves in the earth.
He launched into a sprint, faster than he'd ever moved. Legs pumped furiously, eating up the distance as he retraced his steps. Branches whipped at his plating, roots threatened to trip him, but he pushed on, driven by a desperate need to reach her before they did.
The trees blurred into a green haze as he raced through the undergrowth. Military training took over, forcing his panic into controlled channels. His eyes scanned methodically for signs of Katie's passage, but the ground was frustratingly dry, refusing to hold tracks. Her light frame—delicate compared to his—had barely left any impression. A string of turian curses escaped him. He wasn't the best tracker among his people; his talents had always leaned toward the kill rather than the hunt.
Garrus headed toward the rocky caverns, clinging to the hope that she'd followed his instructions. The forest held its breath around him, offering no hints, no help. Only silence. As he neared the area where he'd told Katie to seek shelter, a familiar scent caught his attention. He rushed toward its source, finding a large tree trunk that still held traces of her presence. Relief flooded through him. She had listened, had gone for the rocks as he'd suggested. "Good human," he murmured.
But his relief was short-lived. New tracks appeared in the disturbed earth—multiple sets, heavier, more aggressive, coming from the west. Garrus's mandibles clamped tight against his face as he recognized the signs of a struggle. His gaze followed the trails leading toward the caverns ahead.
Suddenly, a scream tore through the air—her scream. The sound struck him like a physical blow, twisting something deep in his chest. He broke into a run once more, no longer caring about caution. Voices carried through the trees now, accompanied by the distinct stench of batarians—sweat and rat poison, smells that made his plates crawl with revulsion. Through the thick foliage, he caught glimpses of firelight dancing at the mouth of a cavern, casting twisted shadows on the rock face.
Garrus forced himself to stop, to breathe, to think tactically. The soldier in him wrestled control back from the predator that wanted to charge in blindly. He moved closer with practiced stealth, carefully parting the branches. From this vantage point, he could finally assess the situation, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to act.
Four hostiles. Batarians, all wearing light armor that had seen better days. Their weapons were a mix of rifles and handgun—nothing special, but enough to be lethal. They had Katie surrounded, her back pressed against the rock. She looked dazed, possibly concussed. Offered little resistance as two of them restrained her arms, their many-fingered hands gripping the human with unnecessary force. A third was rifling through the medbag, while the fourth—clearly the leader—stood directly in front of her, taunting her with her own Acolyte pistol.
Damn it. He should have never let her go alone.
"Now, what do we have here?" the leader said, his tone dripping with malicious curiosity. He seized Katie's chin, yanking her face toward the firelight. "Would you look at that? Where did you come from, you pretty thing?" His gaze roamed over her features, lingering on her violet eyes.
"One of the human survivors?" suggested the batarian on Katie's right.
The leader shook his head. "Can't be. The turian fucks gunned them all down..."
Garrus watched helplessly as Katie's head lolled forward the moment her chin was released. She hung limply between her captors, barely conscious. The sight of her so vulnerable, so hurt, sent waves of murderous rage through him. His talons dug into the earth, leaving deep gouges in the soil.
Every instinct demanded he charge in, tear them apart with his bare hands. But years of discipline held him back, his father's voice cutting through the blue haze, Composure, pup. Panic makes you sloppy and leads to mistakes. Mistakes get you killed.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" The leader's voice cracked like a whip as he struck Katie hard across the face. The impact sent a jolt through Garrus's body, drawing a low, threatening snarl from his chest.
"What the fuck..." The batarian pawing through the bag straightened abruptly, holding up several ration packs. His yellowed face twisted with recognition. "This is our stuff."
The leader's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned back to the female. "Where did you get those?" he demanded.
"She's the goods that escaped," the batarian on her left said.
The leader studied Katie with newfound skepticism. One tiny human couldn't have managed such destruction and escaped alone. If she'd had help, where were they? Why was she here by herself? The single set of tracks leading to the caverns... Something wasn't adding up.
"What do you say, kitten?" the rat asked. "Are you one of our residents? A soft little thing escaping on its own..." His mouth twisted into an ugly smile. "Don't think so. Where are your friends hiding?"
She met his gaze with silence. His hand snaked around her throat, crushing. Katie's eyes widened as she fought for air, but still she didn't speak.
Garrus dropped to one knee, steadying his rifle. The wind rustled the branches, obscuring his line of sight. He cursed silently. The shot was too risky—at this distance, with these conditions, he couldn't guarantee a clean kill. And with Katie so close to his target...
"I asked you a question..." the batarian began, but suddenly fell silent. He looked at Katie's wrist, where Balak's omni-tool still glowed faintly.
The rat's demeanor shifted in an instant, going from predatory to murderous. He ripped the device from her arm with enough force to make her stumble. His fingers moved over the interface as he examined it. When he looked at Katie again, his eyes held a promise of violence that made Garrus's plates bristle. "You know who this belongs to?"
She faced him with stone-cold defiance, chin lifted
"Cause I do," the batarian's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "And you know what? He's not someone who would just give it away to a human whore."
She didn't flinch at the insult, didn't break eye contact. Even pale and bleeding, she radiated a fierce strength that made Garrus's chest tighten with pride and worry. Blood trickled from her temple where they'd struck her, staining the collar of his tunic that she still wore. She was fighting in her own way, his female. He prayed she could hold out until he found his opening.
The batarian who'd been ransacking her bag joined the others, inadvertently blocking Garrus's view of the leader. Fuck. His eyes scanned the surroundings like a targeting system, searching for a better position and finding it. He moved through the underbrush, using their distraction to mask his approach. A massive fallen tree ahead offered better coverage and a clearer shot.
"I bet you didn't know it had a locator on, huh?" one of the batarians taunted.
The words struck Garrus like a physical blow. Self-loathing crashed over him in a bitter wave. He'd put that device on her wrist himself—might as well have painted a target on her back. Stupid, careless turian. But he couldn't afford to dwell on his mistake now. Not when she needed him.
From his new position, Garrus leaned against the trunk, peering through his rifle's scope. The sight picture was much clearer now—he could easily take down two of the batarians with well-placed shots. But the others were still pressed too close to Katie, using her like a shield without even realizing it. His talons tightened on the weapon as he forced himself to wait, watching for an opportunity that felt like it would never come.
The leader remained fixated on the omni-tool, turning it over in his hands as if the device itself might confess its secrets. "I'll ask you again. Where did you get it? And where the fuck is Balak?"
The question sparked a sudden revelation in Garrus's mind. They didn't know. How could they? There were no bodies—just a fine layer of dust scattered by Katie's biotic devastation. The rats had returned to their nest to find only signs of battle and a collapsed tunnel. So they'd tracked the omni-tool, assuming their associates were in pursuit of escaped slaves. That was the only reason she was still alive—these thugs didn't know their friends were nothing but particles floating in the stale underground air.
"You're always this shy, huh?" The leader's voice shifted to something worse than menace. He lifted Katie's chin again, but this time his eyes roamed over her with naked hunger.
A low growl built in Garrus's chest as his finger tightened on the trigger. The urge to put a bullet through the bastard's skull was almost overwhelming. But the rat was too close to her—one wrong twitch and... He held back, though every fiber of his being screamed for blood.
"She is a pretty thing, isn't she, Gorn?" one of them said, his tongue flicking out to wet his fleshy lips.
"Very fine..." The one called Gorn grunted and pressed against the human, hands finding her thighs with possessive force. "You think we can't make you talk? Come here."
They closed in around her with predatory intent. And it was the moment when Katie screamed.
Garrus could smell her desperation, her panic, mixing with their lustful stench. The combination triggered something inside. His mind went blank. Logic, reason, carefully planned tactics—all vanished. Only raw, primal instincts remained: an apex predator protecting what was his.
He knew exactly what he was about to do to them. Feeble males attacking in packs like varren, as they knew they stood no chance alone. Pathetic. Weak. Taking her with force because she would never be willing and never submit to their mounting. Thinking they could claim what washis. If they had been smarter, they would have smelled his scent all over her. But they weren't smart.
They seized her, pressing close. Katie fought viciously, attempts to break free only tightening their grip. She even tried to bite the closest one, earning herself a painful twist of her arms. Two held her upper body while a third grabbed the legs, lifting her off the ground. She was suspended between them, completely exposed.
The fourth one tore at the turian tunic. She snarled in fury, thrashing against their restraining hands with renewed desperation. Her body twisted and bucked, but they only laughed at her struggles, finding amusement in her defiance.
"She is feisty, isn't she?" one of them cackled. She could feel his grip on her throat, face pressing close to her neck, breath hot against her skin.
She slammed her head against his face. The rat recoiled with a howl of pain.
"You fucking bitch," he spat with anger.
His friends kept laughing. Her fighting seemed to excite them further.
"Sure you can hold one tiny whore, heh?" the leader mocked the one who just got head-butted.
The shamed male hit her in the face; she cried out and went limp in their hands.
Garrus was already on the move. The rifle slipped from his hands as he didn't need it for what he was about to do. They didn't deserve a quick death. He would give them the only end these varren were worthy of. The turian launched himself from cover before his weapon even hit the ground.
No, Katie's mind screamed in despair.Please. Not again. This couldn't be happening. Not here. Not like this. Her thoughts fragmented as panic took hold.
There were four of them, but she refused to make it easy, fighting them with everything she had left. She kicked, scratched, twisted in their grip—anything to slow them down. But it wasn't enough. Never enough. They were panting now, snarling like rabid dogs, their excitement building as they overwhelmed her resistance.
The one holding her legs pulled closer between her thighs, making her howl. She fought him frantically, swinging and tossing, only to feel him spread her thighs wider.
"That's it, my sweet," he mused. "Come here..."
He pressed his crotch against the apex of her thighs and Katie felt him throbbing underneath his pants. She was beyond panic. It was pure madness.
"Hurry up, Gorn," one of them breathed into her ear, impatiently.
The leader laughed, "There's plenty to go around boys. She'll get pretty quiet pretty soon…"
Then something snapped. Batarian screams pierced the air, their howls of terror mixing with the noises of violence. The hands holding her upper body suddenly vanished, and she hit the ground hard, her head cracking against the earth. The world spun in dizzying circles, reality fracturing at the edges.
"What the fuck..." Gorn's voice floated somewhere above her as his grip on her thighs released. His words cut off in a gurgling shriek.
More terrible cries filled the night—the sounds of flesh being torn, of bones being broken. Vicious growls that couldn't have come from anything human. The noises painted pictures she didn't want to see, couldn't bear to witness.
She shut her eyes tight, pressing her body into the cold ground, shaking uncontrollably. The sounds were too much, too familiar. They dragged her back to Theia's quarters, to that room of horrors filled with the metallic stench of blood, the scattered limbs of other salves, and the endless screams as she was forced to kill. Her mind began to shut down, retreating from the nightmare that surrounded her.
Katie covered her ears with trembling hands, curling into herself as small as she could make her body. Trying to disappear, to escape the death and fury that raged around her.
Please make it stop!Her mind screamed. Please, please, please...
And suddenly it did. The violence ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving behind an eerie silence broken only by two sounds—her own heart thundering in her chest, and something else. Something primal. The heavy, labored breathing of what could only be a large beast.
She felt a presence approaching, making her curl even tighter into herself. Strong hands gripped her arms, lifting her from the ground. She whimpered, too terrified to open her eyes.
"Katie," came a voice she knew too well.
Her mind rebelled against the sound. Why him? Why now? She knew he wasn't here.
"Open your eyes. Come on."
Garrus cradled her trembling form, worry tightening his mandibles as he watched her retreat into herself. He touched her cheek with gentle fingers, then began to purr—that deep, steady rumble she'd come to associate with safety. The vibration startled her enough to break through her panic. Her eyes flew open, violet meeting blue in a moment of disbelief.
"It's me, Katie," he said softly.
He was elbows deep in batarian blood, the dark brown staining his grey hide. His eyes still held a wild edge, but more blue was returning with each passing moment, pushing back the darkness of pure predator. She knew that blue, it was the color of Earth's summer sky. But how could it be here? How could he be here?
"Garrus?"
His hands moved to cup her face in a turian gesture of tenderness. "Yes."
"What are you doing here?" she asked, confusion clouding her features.
"I told you, you shouldn't go alone," he answered tenderly, his killer eyes so gentle, so loving. For her, only for her.
She made a broken sobbing sound. The reality of his presence finally broke through her defenses, unleashing a torrent of tears.
Before he could react, she launched herself at him, pressing her body against his with desperate force. Shuddering with each breath, each sob. Garrus felt both their hearts so close to each other, he couldn't tell which one was which. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers gripping with enough force to hurt if he'd been anything other than turian. Katie clung to him as if terrified he might vanish into the night.
Garrus lifted his human off the ground, supporting her thighs as he enveloped her completely in his protective embrace. She cried against him without restraint. All the fear, relief, and accumulated trauma poured out of her at once, soaking into his hide and mixing with splashes of blood that stained it. He could smell the salt of her water, the sweetness of her scent beneath it.
"Please, don't let go," she begged, her voice muffled against his chest but filled with such raw need it made his heart ache.
"Never."
He stood holding her like that for a while, eyes scanning the area with a predator's vigilance. The campsite was a scene of carnage that would have horrified most civilized beings. But he felt no remorse. His gaze found her bag among the scattered remains of those who'd dared touch her. With one hand, he reached for it.
The slight movement made her press against him even harder, if such a thing was possible. Her arms constricted around his neck with frightened intensity, fingers digging into his hide as if afraid he meant to put her down. Understanding her fear, he quickly slung the bag over his shoulder and returned his hand to her thigh, caressing it to comfort.
As he began to walk through the aftermath of his rage, another thought surfaced. His eyes caught on a nearby corpse. Without breaking stride, he bent smoothly to retrieve the dead batarian's rifle. The weapon's weight felt reassuring against his hip as he holstered it.
With his female secured in his arms and their supplies recovered, Garrus turned away from the scene of slaughter. He didn't look back as he carried her into the forest. There was nothing back there worth seeing—just the inevitable consequence of threatening what belonged to him.