"I am coming down there," came the Primarch's heavy declaration and Garrus shook his head at the orange hologram, "How dare they…"

Garrus' good mandible snapped out, "It is a madhouse here, true, but I will take care of this. You need to calm down. We cannot risk your exposure." They both knew it was the truth. Not that it made it any easier.

When they had stopped at the Citadel, he had not expected to see such a thick population of displaced people. It took him all of eight seconds to remember that the only place in the galaxy that was known to be accepting of all was the Citadel. Of course refugees would come here. Bailey had informed him quickly of the situation, the depleting provisions, the spike in crime, the rapidly overcrowded clinics - not to mention Huerta. That was how he had found himself in the docking bay where he helped C-Sec with the adjacent sections E24, E26, and E28 having converted them into a refugee camp to help accommodate the influx of people fleeing to the station. Now, he was trying to find a way to organize the Turian horde that was continuously trickling onto the Citadel.

He did not want to allow his brain to think about what would happen when the Reapers came to the Widow System. The station's defenses would never hold. All these people…"Just let me handle it, I need the authority to assign certain credits and orders from vendors that primarily work with just Palaven."

"Garrus," the orange image growled, "Many of those vendors have gone dark."

"Spirits," he stepped away from the group of wounded Turian soldiers that were shuffling towards the makeshift clinic, lingering close to an empty reserve crate, "I need channels, Victus, we need to get some help to these people." He looked up and to the left, noting a Batarian reaching out and catching a Turian who had collapsed. When a human stepped in to help support the weight of the heavier alien, he added, "All of these people, Victus, we have to figure something out."

"I leave that to you," the halo stated bluntly, "You have access and allotments of the highest allowance I can give. Second only to myself. Get it handled…" a pause before, "Please, for our people. See that it is done."

"I will do what I can," he vowed before cutting the feeds and turning back to take in the situation at hand. It was a mess. In the short time he had been here, however, he had helped set up multiple sections and (though he did not like doing it) assigned each to a different species. It was easier to do this so that when refugees did come to the Citadel, they could check in.

A checkpoint. To see. To get news. To give news.

There were common areas of course, where people were relaxing, recouping, a whole portion of the level had been dedicated as a memorial and he had yet to visit it. He wasn't sure if he didn't have anyone to mourn or too many, but he just couldn't bring himself to go to it. Perhaps later.

"Mr. Vakarian, sir," a turian with bright fuschia markings and purple armor tore his attention back out of his thoughts. He looked at him, giving a slight nod for him to continue, "My name is Tactus Lendol, I have just arrived from Madra on Taetrus. There are not so many from that system making it this far out."

"Your markings are from Vallum," Garrus' brow plate raised in curiosity.

The turian gave a stiff nod, "My family were one of the first to Taetrus, they founded Vallum, however, I do not claim that city. I am from Madra." There was a story there, Garrus realized. One that he probably would never know. He looked at the man - no doubt similar in age as he - one that came from a bloodline that was recognized by many. The founding line was always strong. It was rare to hear a turian claim another city, but still support the traditional markings. He wanted to ask him what transpired there. What had caused him to turn his back on Vallum. The other turian shook his head just once, "None of that matters now."

"Alright," Garrus would agree, "What is it that I can do for you?"

"Nothing," he would step closer, lowering his voice, "I have come with a shipment of medical supplies. I was on the crew that had been chosen to evac the supplies to another planet nearby in my home system, the planet was gone by the time our ship arrived and so we came here."

"What do you mean, gone?"

"Exactly as it sounds, Mr. Vakarian, I dare not say it again." His subvocals hiccuped and Garrus realized suddenly that the man was holding himself together by sheer force of will. He may have been on Palaven, he may be worrying for his family, but he had been sitting on the Normandy for the last few weeks. These people had no such luxury.

"Are you giving it to the effort?"

"Only if I ration it," Tactus answered, "Forgive me, Mr. Vakarian, but I watched nearly my entire team die in the effort to keep those supplies safe and I would like to ensure that they are dispersed fairly and with great understanding that this is a war. Not charity."

"Some will need it even if you do not believe they do."

"I will be fair," he assured him. "As much as I know I am sounding otherwise, you must forgive me - I am…tired."

"You are," Garrus agreed, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder, "Get some rest, then come report back here so we can get a tally on what you have. You brought it, you and your team will man the inventory. If you deem it worthy - so be it."

Tactus dipped his head, slamming a fist across his chest before turning and walking away.

Garrus watched him walk away noting a slight limp as he did so. When the turian reached the end of the path, he observed him talking to three other turians who all seemed to be standing close together and yet apart from those around them. He frowned softly, thinking about just how many people out there had teams like this.

Shepard and her's.

Tactus and his.

So many brothers and sisters in arms that had lost so much. That were still losing and yet standing in the throws. Fighting.

Where this could be something that caused him to wallow, it was oddly reassuring. People were out there fighting . Small decisions in the minds of individuals. Bonds were forming. He swept his gaze across the gathering storm of refugees. Taking notice of how so many were taking care of those around them. It didn't seem to matter what species one was - and even though emotions were high, exhaustion evident - the refugees were taking care of each other.

It was his job to ensure that they had the means to do so.

He sighed and turned around to walk to the farthest point of the hanger. That was where his small team was located. A comm specialist that he had recognized from his time in c-sec had come to set up a small mobile unit for him. He forgot her name, but as he went to ask his attention was caught by a hologram to the right of where she was standing.

Was that Shepard?

He squinted and moved closer, what in the spirits of Palaven , "Is this a Shepard VI?"

"Yes it is!" A human woman said with a sly grin, "A little glitchy, but worth every penny!"

"Are you aware that selling this is restricted?"

The grin fell off her face and he couldn't help but notice how similar to Shepard she looked. Darker hair, but her jaw structure was the same. Her eyes were wide and green and she stood there proud, "You gonna snitch on me?" She looked pointedly around them, "I'm standing here trying to barter it for a reason, you know."

Garrus glared at her, his gaze swiftly shifting from her eyes to the shadows under them, to her chapped lips and up to her ponytail that seemed to have soot and dried blood in it.

"Do you know how to fix it?"

"I am trying," her shoulders relaxed slightly, "But, honestly, I found it and…well…"

"Here," he lifted his omni-tool and purchased the AI for a few hundred credits, way over priced considering it was black market, the transfer hit her omni-tool and she gasped.

"Mister, this is too much!"

"Just use it for what you need," he motioned at the container she was standing in, "Stay there as well, I'll make sure you have some food. Do you have…is your family with you?"

She shook her head, "I don't have a family anymore."

Anymore. Anymore. Anymore. That one word repeated itself in his head like an echo of understanding. He sighed and nodded. "If someone else comes along and wants it, sell it to them. Keep the money."

"But it's yours!"

"And I am hiring you to sell it," he eyed her, "Paying you to do so with room and board, is that sufficient?"

The tears that pooled in her eyes had him looking away from her. She cleared her throat and gave a wobbly reply in affirmation. "I'll let you know if anyone takes it."

"Good, I appreciate it." He shot a wry grin her way, more of a slight snarl if she wasn't attuned to Turian mannerisms before he turned around and got back to work.

"Let's check on those medical supplies," he said over a datapad.

"Yes sir," one of the C-Sec officials answered him.

"And have we heard anything from the hospitals?"

"The surgeons there are all busy," he replied.

Garrus frowned and looked up, dropping the datapad onto a nearby crate, "Keep on it," he narrowed in on the officer, "Some of these wounded don't have much time." He crossed his arms as his focus landed on one of the wounded he knew wasn't going to make it. The older turian had battled his way off one of the colonial worlds and had steer an entire evac ship to safety with a laceration that began from one shoulder and ended on the opposite hip. He had refused medical treatment until they had arrived safely on the Citadel. Or so the story went. There were so many like him. His frown deepened until a flash of red came to the corner of his eye.

He turned and felt his entire body ease as he faced the Commander who was slowly walking towards him. Garrus took note of how she scanned over the wounded and medical professionals before she looked at him directly. "Shepard," he all but breathed a sigh of relief. It had felt like months since he had last seen her.
Even though it had only been hours since they had both left the Normandy, her on her way to Huerta and he…here.

"What's happening?" She asked him, looking over to the wounded turian.

"We convinced the council to accept our wounded," he followed her line of sight, "No where else to go."

"How bad is it?"

"More dead than injured," he looked back at her. "Eighty-five percent killed in action. We'll need a morgue soon. Not a lot of flesh wounds when you're fighting reapers."

"Casualties are that high?" Shepard shifted closer to him.

"Our front line units are being wiped whole platoons at a time," Garrus mimicked her step forward, "A single Reaper can destroy nine or ten of them in one attack."

"That's not war," she sighed, crossing her arms, "Its slaughter."

They held eye contact for a long moment, before he took a step back from her, "They're called Reapers for a reason and these guys found out why."

"Do what you can for them," she urged. Both of them looked to the wounded turian in the gurney that he had been staring at before she had arrived.

"A few of them might get back up on their feet, but the rest…." he trailed off, his eyes flicking over the older man's face, "Sympathy is about all we can offer."

Shepard moved towards him once again, "Any signs of your family?"

He shook his head. No. There hadn't been. No one from Cipritine had gotten word of them. Six billion people in one area of Palaven and not a single person had seen his father nor his sister. He frowned deeply, "Not yet, but I keep hoping." Garrus forced himself to push his shoulders back, rolling them through the tension, "What about you?" She had been looking at the floor and looked back up to him, "I'm starting to see some wear and tear."

Shepard's arms dropped slowly and she dropped her chin, as if she were about to admit something she felt was shameful, "I won't lie, it's been rough."

"Well," he nodded, "Don't forget to come up for air and not just because all these people need you," Garrus moved forward into her space, reaching up to press a talon under her chin, lifting it slowly so he could catch her eye, "Because I need you."

She smiled softly at him, her hand coming up to hold his, but she didn't reply. Instead she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead forward, presenting it to him so he could place his own against it. When he did so, his eyes closed and the two of them shared a breath. A quiet moment of camaraderie, of support.

She pulled away first.

"Is that a Shepard VI?"

His mandibles shook as he smirked in her direction, "It is."

"And you're just letting someone have it on display…" Shepard stepped away from him towards the other side of the space. He watched her do so and couldn't help the grin that teased his mouthplates when she spoke to the woman who was trying to sell it for…well for him. He shook his head and turned back toward the task at hand.

A part of him hated what he said to her. Putting more on her shoulders. Asking her to do right for herself for him. Like he mattered. Like he had some kind of pull to her wellbeing. His grin slowly fell as he noticed the people around the wounded turian start moving faster. Frenzied almost. He watched as they gave him a shock to the chest, then slow compressions on the upper cowl.

As the sound of the flatline crept into the space around them, Garrus wondered if he would ever be able to remember any other sound after all this was over.

If it ever was.

When Shepard walked back to him, he had already helped clear the gurney of the dead turian for another wounded. She stood next to him for a while, just observing and so he let her. He didn't want to come between her and the small moments of peace she could find. Fifteen minutes later, however, his curiosity won out. "You said Thane had messaged you?"

A genuine smile exploded on her lips, her entire face lighting up, "Yes, he's at the hospital. I mean, its not good that he is there, but its good that he is - you know?"

He nodded, "Did you offer him to come back?"

She scoffed, "Of course I did, but," she shrugged a single shoulder, "He wants to stay closer to his doctors. It...I just wish..." she shook her head, "I'm just thankful to have seen him."

"He really should be on board with us, it feels wrong somehow." Garrus looked at the Commander's profile, "I'm sorry, Shepard."

"Don't be, he is close to his son, he is ready." She looked over to him, "I'm glad that he gets the time he gets with Kolyat. I...I won't mourn the loss of him on my crew due to his decision to stay close to his family. I just miss him."

"And...Kaidan?" He tried desperately not to sound off with the question. He genuinely was worried about the biotic. "Is he doing okay?"

"Looks horrible," she admitted, eyeing him sideways for a moment before crossing her arms and continuing, though she didn't bring her gaze up to meet his. "He's talking though, which is a far better situation that we had last time when we dropped him off. An aware and cognitive Alenko is better than a half dead one." She smiled softly, "Kaidan is still a bit confused by the choice I made with Cerberus. I...I'm hopeful he will come around to understand why I did what I did."

Garrus nodded, "I'm sure he will."

"I hope so," she said softly, "He is up in Room 4 if you want to visit. I'm sure he would like to see some friendly faces."

He didn't respond immediately because he didn't know if he had the time to actually go up there to visit. There was so much to do, so many things to coordinate and their docked time was just eight more hours. "Perhaps before we leave."

Shepard nodded, "We could use him."

The turian in him wanted to growl low at the words. Was she suggesting? Was she trying to convince him? Was she telling him? He understood that she had felt betrayed by the man. He had stood up to her in defense of him and yet a part of him wished he would just stay here on the Citadel. The Lieutenant - no Major would do well here. Would he not?

But Garrus' memory was a fine thing. He knew that Kaidan was far too powerful to be left behind. He worked well with Shepard and with Garrus on the battlefield. Apart from Samara and Jack, Kaidan was the most powerful biotic he had ever seen in action. However, he had seen Kaidan unleash something far greater than what he used in combat and it was that - that power that Garrus wanted around Shepard. To protect her. Because Kaidan had been willing to kill for her. He had…he shook his head. Refusing to go back there. Alchera was far away. It was no longer relevant. Shepard was alive. He was alive. Liara was. Tali was. They were here.

"Garrus?"

They were here. Joker was in the cockpit. The Normandy, he looked left suddenly, straining to look through the large windows of the bay - the tail end of the great frigate teased his eyesight. It was her? Right? That was the Normandy.

"Garrus."

Maybe it wasn't. His eyes widened slightly as he started to move towards the windows for a better view. His mandibles shivering, his subvocals howling in uncertainty. In fear. In devastation. He could hear Shepard, right? That was Shepard? Count to ten, Garrus, fuck he…he didn't know where he was.

"Hey," a clear and sharp voice slipped into his panic and he turned to look at Grundan. Why was he on Alchera? Oh no no. Not Alchera. He was on Omega. Oh good. Omega was…no wait. "Hey, man - snap out of it. You aren't there. Turn around."

No. No. NO . Omega had…Omega had….he looked around for Monteague. Where was he?

"Garrus!" Her voice was loud near him, but he could only see Krul. "Mr. Vakarian!" When in the hell did Krul say his last name like that? Subvocals flared around him. Gentle tunes of assurance, pulling him backwards and he felt his feet still, he looked down to see a small pale five fingered hand on his forearm, the knuckles white.

More subvocals and he twisted his attention upwards to Krul. Instead it wasn't his son there anymore. It was the c-sec officer. The turian's subvocals wild and alive, telling him he was okay and that it was okay. He was fine. Garrus took in a deep breath and he felt his own subvocals chirp outward. An apology, which was waved off.

"Commander Shepard," the c-sec officer stated, his eyes leaving Garrus to pointedly go to the human who was looking at him with such a heavy face of concern he wanted to cringe back.

"Sorry, Shepard," he sighed heavily, his body slumping, "I…I'm okay, sorry."

"What, no it's okay. Stop," she pulled his arm towards her slightly and he angled his body her way, "I…I don't know what triggered that, but I understand PTSD when I see it. I think any soldier would." She looked around them, and he followed her gaze, frowning as he noticed a few people were watching, most with understanding, some with mild shock.

"I don't know," he offered lamely.

"Does…was it Kaidan?"

He shook his head, "I think I am just tired, Shep."

"Okay," she would say, unbelievingly. "Maybe you should go back to the Normandy and get some rest."

With a great roll of his neck he stretched it to one side, then the other, "I'll be fine. There is too much to do. I will take some time to sleep when we get back onboard later."

"Garrus," she frowned.

"I said I'm fine," he said more firmly, looking at her finally, gray to green, "Let it go, Shepard."

Her brows dipped low, her mouth clamped shut and the small hand on his forearm slid off quickly. "Fine," she would clip and look around them, bringing herself up to her full height. "We embark at 0400."

Like he didn't know that.

She gave a small nod to the c-sec officer, sent a slight glare in his direction before she walked away from him. He watched her leave until she turned the corner and was out of his line of sight. Garrus shook his head, reaching up to remove his visor and ran a hand down his face. He read the names he had etched, his thumb sliding over Krul's name before he cleared his throat and slid the visor back on. The c-sec officer had been watching him and he glowered, "What?"

"Just," he looked uncomfortable, "I didn't know you knew my name."

"I don't."

"Oh."

They looked at one another, "I called you Grundan."

"You called me Krul."

"That's your name?"

He nodded, "Grotzan Krul."

Garrus frowned as he studied the turian's features. Notifying the fine lines of marking that looked a week past due to be repainted, "How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Any relatives?"

The c-sec officer glared at him, "I have a mother, but no father. He…he and my little brother died a long time ago."