The hotel hallway was extremely dated. Gray laminate floors meant to imitate real wood. A slightly lighter shade of gray for the walls. White lights that were just a little too bright. What once had been trendy, now came across as incredibly bleak. At least the rates were cheap. Garrus knocked on the kid's door.
I've got to stop thinking of him as a kid. He's barely younger than me.
But that's how Garrus thought of him, because that's how Shepard talked about him. The same way he thought of his little sister, Solana. Didn't matter how old she got, in his mind, she was still the little gremlin who used to hide behind doors to jump out and scare him.
The door opened. For a moment, Garrus thought he was looking at an Alliance recruitment poster. Shepard-the-younger had an angular face with the slightly weather-beaten look the human military seemed to favor. His buzz cut only added to the stereotype. He was taller than his sister, though not as tall as Garrus. Oddly enough, there was one physical trait Garrus had in common with him – their eyes were the same shade of pale blue.
"Hey…" the 'Shepard' caught in Garrus's throat. Still couldn't bring himself to use the kid's name.
Other-Shepard nodded back. They attempted eye contact, but quickly gave up on the idea. What they had seen in each other was too familiar.
The kid's room was a mirror image of Garrus's, all the way down to the stupid abstract art print. Garrus noted the crisply made bed. Shoes lined up neatly along the wall.
Sticks to a routine, that's good.
Garrus's eyes passed over the wastebasket and spotted an empty liquor bottle sticking out of it.
Gonna have to keep an eye on that.
They sat on opposite corners of the bed. Both stared straight ahead at the door.
Garrus's hands fidgeted in his lap. The guilt from avoiding the kid's name was eating at him. Because it was rightfully his name. It's just that it was also his sister's name. And by right of being the first Shepard to have met Garrus, she had claimed it. And saying her name out loud was not a possibility. At least, not if he wanted to be able to do anything other than curl into a ball and cry.
I can't do this. Something's gotta give.
Still looking at the door, Garrus cleared his throat and said, "Hey uh…if it's okay with you, can I call you John? I feel bad because, well…she…I…yeah."
Not-His-Shepard was silent for a while. He looked over at him. "As long as I can call you Garrus."
Garrus met his gaze. "Yeah, of course."
John almost smiled. He looked down at the floor instead. They sat like that a little longer, the rattle of the AC unit being the only sound in the room.
Garrus broke the silence. "Thanks for slumming it with me."
"Thanks for letting me hang with you." John sighed. "I made an ass of myself yesterday, huh."
"It wasn't as bad as you think." Garrus paused before adding, "If something had to happen, at least it was just the viewing."
"Yeah."
Garrus wasn't just placating the guy. John may have been Shepard's brother and designated next of kin, but the Systems Alliance had decided that Shepard was first and foremost humanity's hero. They were going to pull out all the stops for her, whether John liked it or not. John was just as much a guest to the spectacle as Garrus was.
The viewing had been the one "private" portion of the Shepard Funeral Spectacular. Friends and family only (as long as you counted high-ranking officials across all governments as friends). No cameras.
Garrus found himself outside a single-story brick building with simple white columns framing the entrance. People of various species, but mostly human, flowed past him. If they weren't wearing a military uniform, they were in some shade of black.
How did I get here?
He couldn't remember. He remembered his leg had been injured. He remembered Shepard calling in an evac shuttle. He remembered the blast from the Crucible's activation. He remembered the Normandy's orders to retreat out of the solar system. He remembered the initial celebration of life triumphing over death. And then memory began to disintegrate.
Something had happened to the Normandy. The ship had been stranded on some tropical world. Then somehow, they were back in the Sol System. And everyone started acting real weird around him. And then someone, maybe it was a couple people, sat him down and said Shepard had been found. And it didn't make sense because that was good news, but nobody looked happy about it. And then memory stopped entirely.
It picked back up with an email. The Systems Alliance had handed him over to the turian Hierarchy. At least, that's how Garrus perceived it, because in his mind, one day he was on the Normandy, and the next, he was sitting at a desk at the previous Terran Hierarchy embassy, now de-facto government and base of operations. He stared at the screen in front of him, dumbstruck. There was a new message in his inbox. Garrus's heart stopped when he saw the sender's name.
J* Shepard.
For a split second, the evil creature known as Hope wormed its way into his chest and took root. It wasn't real. It had all been a mistake. He could allow himself to have feelings again. But when he dared to read the subject line, it said, "Jane's viewing/funeral & A question for you." He reread the sender's address. It was johnshepard(a)samc. mil.
Four letter J name. Same email suffix. Easy to misread when you're looking for a different J Shepard.
The Hope Demon took its cue and fled his chest, taking his heart with it. Garrus almost deleted the email in despair. Turned out, he wasn't as bad a turian as he thought. Duty took over and opened the message.
It read:
Hello,
I am John Shepard. (Jane's brother) I know the Alliance has already announced the funeral details, but I wanted to reach out personally to invite you to the viewing. It's supposed to be friends and family only. There's also going to be government and military officials there. It wasn't what I told them we wanted, but I got steamrolled on it. When I checked the RSVP list, you weren't on it. I hope the Alliance didn't forget to invite you.
I also wanted to ask if you would be willing to be part of the family for the viewing and funeral proceedings. We didn't have a lot of family left to begin with, so it'd pretty much just be you and me. It would really mean a lot to have you there. I know it would mean a lot to Jane too. She talked about you all the time.
I have the RSVP form attached. I'm sorry if this is all over the place. I haven't been thinking clearly lately.
Thank you,
John Shepard
Garrus had collapsed on his desk in a fit of sobbing.
She talked about you all the time. Talked. The past tense of it all. The implied, and she never will again.
Garrus replayed John's casually cruel statement on a loop as he entered the funeral hall. He followed the flow of the crowd through the lobby and into the main room.
The room was simple but dignified. The ceiling was low, but dark wood paneling gave the room a sense of warmth. Beige carpet muffled everyone's footsteps. Benches lined a central aisle that led to a raised platform that housed the main attraction. There she was. A spotlight shone down on Shepard's closed casket. The Systems Alliance flag was draped over it. A floral wreath had been placed on the left side.
Garrus took a seat on a bench towards the back, by the door. The haze he drifted in and out of for the past few weeks tugged at his mind. He pulled it over himself like a blanket. Everyone else could go gawk at Shepard. He was physically present. That was the best he could do. He watched without comprehending the assortment of bodies lined up to pay their respects.
Someone stopped next to him. "Garrus?"
Garrus was barely cognizant. Whoever wanted to talk to him could go kick rocks for all he cared. He retreated further into himself.
The someone flicked the side of his head. "Don't ignore me, bosh'tet."
Garrus turned to his friend with a bleary-eyed stare. "Hey Tali."
Tali was wearing her normal black and purple environmental suit, with the new addition of a white armband around her left bicep as a sign of mourning. Despite her opaque helmet hiding her facial expression, Tali radiated concern.
She looked down at Garrus expectantly. He stood and allowed her to hug him.
Tali's arms wrapped around his chest tightly. His arms loosely replicated the action. A simulacrum of a hug. As soon as her grip loosened, Garrus sat back down.
"We're up front if you'd like to join us."
She gestured toward the first three rows of benches on the left side of the aisle. A bunch of familiar faces were huddled together. The Normandy alumni had claimed a section of the room as their own. A complicated cluster of emotions tried to rise out of the swamp of Garrus's chest. A majority of the crew he and Shepard had fought and served with through every iteration of the Normandy were intermingling.
Joker was talking with Chakwas, Alenko, and Cortez. Vega and Grunt seemed to be in the middle of some kind of psychic conversation, not speaking, just nodding at each other. Liara was showing Traynor something on her omni-tool. Jack was laughing about something with Donnelly and Daniels. Zaeed was arguing with a staff member over his lit cigarette. Kasumi flitted about from conversation to conversation. Wrex, however – Wrex, in full battle armor that he apparently never took off ever, stared Garrus down as if he was trying to explode his head with his mind.
What could I have possibly done to make him mad at me?
Every couple seconds, one of Garrus's friends and former crewmates tried to sneak a look at him. Tali shook her head at them like she was slick. It just made Garrus more annoyed.
"I don't want to talk to anyone."
"You don't have to talk. Just sit with us."
"I don't want to."
Tali let out a heavy sigh. She put her hands on her hips. "Fine. But if you change your mind, we're right over there."
Tali stood there for a few more seconds, waiting to see if Garrus would break. He refused. His will was iron. He would not be peer pressured. She finally caved and returned to the rest of the crew. She must have relayed Garrus's refusal to join them because they all tried sneaking glances at him again.
It's my right to be alone! Stop looking at me like that!
Garrus watched the Normandy crew rise as a unit and file in line for their turn to pay Shepard their respects. He kept a mental tally of everyone's reactions. Stood silently: Jack, Donnelly, Daniels, Traynor, Zaeed, Kasumi. Touched the casket: Alenko, Vega, Cortez, Grunt. Cried: Joker, Liara, Chakwas. Leaned over and said something to Shepard: Tali, Wrex.
Every single one of them stared at Garrus during their walk back to their seat.
What? What do you see in me that's so offensive? I'm not telling you all how to grieve. Stop looking at me like I'm doing it wrong.
By the time Wrex started walking back to his seat, Garrus had prepared himself for one more blistering stare. But then Wrex did something different. Instead of going back to the Normandy crew, the gnarly old man took a detour. He walked right up to Garrus.
Garrus couldn't bring himself to look Wrex in the eye. He stared at Wrex's feet and waited for whatever dressing down his friend had planned.
All Wrex said was, "You're gonna regret it if you don't."
By the time Garrus looked up, Wrex was already halfway down the aisle. He stewed in Wrex's words and his sadness and anger and pain. Wrex didn't understand. If he joined this charade, he was admitting defeat. As long as he refused to play along, it wasn't real, and it couldn't hurt him.
But how would that make Shepard feel?
Garrus plunged into another spiral. Memories of what had been; daydreams of futures no longer possible. With shaking hands, Garrus stood and got in line.
By the time Garrus approached Shepard, his arms hung limp at his side.
In place of his heart was a black hole that was slowly dragging the rest of his organs into the singularity where love used to be. Soon enough, he'd be completely hollow.
Garrus stared at the casket. He stared at it for a very long time. Maybe his subvocals droned a sad little dirge. Maybe they didn't. He wasn't particularly concerned about controlling them. People started walking around him. He didn't care.
None of you get it. None of you comprehend the scale of what has happened. The world has ended. There's nothing left.
He contemplated the latches keeping the lid closed and thought about climbing in there with her.
How long would it take? A few days? A week? That's not so bad. I can wait a week.
Someone stepped up next to Garrus. In his peripheral vision, it looked like some lower-ranking Alliance servicemember. Garrus waited for the guy to walk around him like everyone else, but he didn't budge. He stationed himself so they were shoulder to shoulder.
Great, a fanboy.
The guy said quietly, "I take it you're Vakarian. Jane talked about you all the time."
Jane? Who the hell do you think you are?!
Garrus whipped his head around to tell the guy to get the fuck out only to realize he recognized him. How could he not? Shepard had only shown him a million photos from every stage of the guy's life. It was her little brother, John Shepard.
Garrus felt like an asshole.
John either ignored or was unaware of Garrus's rapid shift in temperament. His voice was monotone. "It's nice to finally meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances."
He had a glazed-over look that Garrus found refreshingly appropriate.
Finally, somebody who understands the reality of the situation.
With an equally absent expression, Garrus replied, "Yeah. You too."
The novelty of meeting each other wore off, and the two went back to staring at Shepard's coffin. More visitors shuffled around them. Nobody would dare tell them to move out of the way. They were the only ones with the right to stand there as long as they wanted.
Garrus watched John start to fiddle with the latch on the side of the casket.
Hey, that was my idea.
The funeral director strode over. "Sir, please don't touch that."
John undid the latch. "I'm just looking."
"Sir, this is strictly a closed casket viewing."
John waved him away. "I'm just checking if she's in there."
The funeral director grabbed John's elbow. "Sir, you don't understand. The remains are not in a suitable state for-"
John shoved a finger in the funeral director's face. "No, YOU don't understand. We had an empty casket last time because we didn't have her fucking body and then she came back two years later because it turned out she wasn't really dead. Which, by the way, they make you pay back the death gratuity when that happens. So this time, yes, I want to make sure she's actually in the fucking thing. So let me open the GODDAMN LID!"
Yeah, that's definitely Shepard's brother.
Wrex appeared next to Garrus. He leaned in and said, "This is about to become a situation. I'm happy to deal with it the old-fashioned way, but you might want to step in first."
Mental processes that were second nature but had fallen dormant from grief flickered back online. The haze Garrus's brain had constructed to protect itself melted away. He was by no means suddenly well. The body had an opportunity to do what it had trained many years to do, and it was not about to let something as simple as being really really sad stop it. Cold, clinical clarity took control.
There were six security guards closing in from the east and west wings of the hall. All were carrying. The civilians (none of these attendees were truly civilians, but situationally, Garrus's brain categorized them as such) started to cluster towards the center and rear of the hall. Social convention dictated that they'd probably not interfere, but then again, that was a roll of the dice. John himself was a wildcard. Good chance he was in too much distress to distinguish ally from enemy.
Garrus watched Shepard's brother continue to argue with the staff. He considered Wrex's proposal. Was he in any condition to stop a fight? Garrus assessed himself to be roughly one step above catatonia. He didn't think he had it in him to play mediator. But handling it like old times… Maybe he could let it escalate. Maybe he could help it escalate. He was good at that. The call of the void whispered to him from the holster under his waistband.
But then, for one fraction of a second, he made eye contact with John.
John Shepard's eyes said, Help me. Please. Why won't anyone help me? Can't you see I'm drowning?
And a small voice in Garrus's conscience said, You made a promise.
Some secret reserve of life force kicked in. Wrex stared at him with a new sense of interest. Garrus moved to insert himself between John and the funeral director.
He threw an arm around John's shoulder. "Let's go outside for a minute."
John looked like he was about to fight him on it before he noticed security were mere seconds from grabbing him. He let Garrus lead him down the aisle. Whispers followed them to the door. Garrus made a point to look straight ahead. Under his breath, he said, "Don't look at them."
Once outside, Garrus released John. He led him across the small lawn to the edge of the parking lot. He sat on the curb. John followed his lead.
Garrus sat with his hands clasped, forearms resting across his knees. The parking lot itself was unremarkable, but the weather was perfect. The sun was bright, and the warmth felt good on his back and head. The sky was completely clear. Beautiful day if you only paid attention to the scenery.
John's hands shook as he lit a cigarette. He offered one to Garrus. Garrus shook his head. John took a deep drag before breaking the silence.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. I did everything right the first time. I was good when they came to my door, and I was good at the funeral, and I was good at the memorial. It hurt and it sucked, but I kept it together because I didn't want to make Jane look bad. But now, it's like," he took another drag on his cigarette, hands still shaking, "it's like I used it all up. I only had one Jane death in me, and I used it all on the wrong fucking one. How was I supposed to know?" John looked up at the sky and laughed bitterly. "Do you know what I did when they gave me the news this time? I laughed at them. Like some kind of psycho.
"You know what had been going on at the time. I was stationed out of Quantico. My original orders were to help develop strategies for using the Reapers' own tech against them, but it quickly devolved into defending civilian outposts. Jane sends me a message that she was leading a final push. Can't give me too much info, but I know she's about to do something big. I'm not too worried about her, because she sounds like she's got everything under control. If she's not worried, then I'm not worried, you know?"
Garrus nodded. That, he did know.
"Anyway, the next day, everything's looking like we're coming to a slow death; it's just a matter of time. Then there's this like, shockwave, and all the husks, Reapers, everything just drops dead. Word gets around that Jane did it; she activated the Crucible and saved everybody. So we're laughing, celebrating, the whole thing, right? I can't get in touch with Jane, but I figure no big deal, she saved the whole galaxy; I'm sure she's dealing with chain of command stuff. But then a few more days pass. And now I'm starting to get nervous. And my guys all know we're siblings, so they're also asking around if anyone's heard anything about Commander Shepard. Nobody's seen her. At all.
"So, a few days after that, I'm back on base getting ready to turn in for the night when I hear a knock on my door. And I get this funny feeling, like the lizard part of my brain knows what's about to happen, but the conscious part hasn't caught on yet. So I open the door, and there's three military personnel. They start going through the spiel, but I'm not really listening because I've literally gone through this before. But then it hits me who they sent to break the news. You know who it was?" John's voice ramped up in pitch and volume. He jabbed the air with his cigarette for emphasis. "You know who it fuckin' was? Admiral Steven fucking Hackett in the flesh. And that's when I started laughing. Just kept going too. Because I'm getting the news that my big sister has died, for real this time, from the head of the Alliance Navy, and all I can think is, 'Am I supposed to be saluting him right now?'"
John laughed bitterly. The laugh turned into a cough.
"And then," John's eyes filled up with tears, "I did something really bad."
Garrus leaned away from him. "What'd you do?"
Spirits, what the hell is he about to tell me.
Garrus watched the cigarette tremble in John's hand. John's voice came out in ragged bursts.
"She told me she wanted to be cremated. We talked about it during one of our calls while she was under arrest. But when they asked me how to handle her remains, I couldn't do it. She was the only family I had left. The idea of her being burnt down into nothing…" Tears began to streak his face. "She gave me specific instructions and I couldn't do it."
John dropped his head to his knees and cried. Through the tears, he kept repeating something. He said it over and over until it slurred into one never-ending word. It took a minute for Garrus to realize what he was saying was, "I'm sorry."
Oh. Oh no.
Garrus gently took the cigarette out of John's hand and put it out on the pavement. He put a hand on John's shoulder. "I think she'd understand."
John collapsed into him. The dam had burst. John convulsed with sobs. Every few minutes, he'd take a few deep breaths, only to fall back into wailing. Garrus held him in a side hug. It was messy and it was ugly, but it was what needed to happen.
As Garrus's jacket became soaked through by tears and mucus, he realized he hadn't fallen back into the haze that had enveloped him ever since the news broke. He was normal. Correction: he was at a functional baseline, and that was a feat in itself. Garrus took a shaky breath.
I still have orders. Can't fall apart until they're completed.
Garrus felt eyes on them. He looked over his shoulder back towards the entrance. Wrex watched them from just outside the door. He pointed at Garrus and John then gave a questioning thumbs up. Garrus returned the thumbs up back and waved Wrex back inside.
A question kept wriggling in Garrus's mind. It was absolutely not an appropriate time to ask, but he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Hey, uh, did the Alliance really make you pay back the death gratuity?"
John laugh-sobbed as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Luckily, I hadn't dipped into it too much and put it mostly into savings. When I told Jane about it, she got real mad on my behalf. I was just trying to show her the letter I got from Veteran Affairs as a funny story, but she felt really bad about sticking me with all the bureaucratic bullshit."
"Sounds like her." Garrus could see it clearly in his mind. He pictured Shepard calling Anderson and demanding her brother get his condolence money back. The image warmed his heart. He listened to the breeze rustle the few trees that dotted the parking lot. "Do you want to go back inside?"
"Not really." John rested his chin on his knees. "They put me up in a nice hotel. I think it was the Alliance's way of paying me off so they could run the show. I'll probably just go back there."
John didn't sound like he wanted to go back to that hotel. Garrus was also vaguely worried about leaving him alone.
And to think people were being weird around me…
Garrus started asking the question before it was a complete thought. "Do you…want to come stay at my hotel? It's not fancy but…you won't have to be by yourself."
John rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "That's probably a good idea."
They exchanged comm handles. Garrus sent John his hotel address. John would go to his hotel, get his stuff, then meet Garrus at the other hotel.
Garrus waited for John to get his shuttle before calling his own. By the time John left, the attendees had started trickling out into the parking lot. Garrus kept his back to the entrance. He stared at his omni-tool, watching the cab's ETA timer tick down.
Come on, come on, get me out of here.
From behind him, he heard, "You always were at your best when you were given a job to do." Wrex planted himself beside him.
Garrus snorted.
"The kid's good for you. You should keep him around."
Wrex sniffed the air, unbothered by Garrus's silence. He watched the crowd disperse into the parking lot. Eventually the Normandy crew passed by in a cluster.
Wrex clapped Garrus on the shoulder. "That's my ride. See you tomorrow." He began to follow the crew.
"Wrex."
The old krogan turned back to Garrus. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened in a smile.
"If it had turned into a fight, whose side were you planning to take?"
Wrex looked at him like he had asked how many balls are on a krogan. "The kid's, of course."
Back in the present, John looked at Garrus with unabashed amazement. "How are you holding it together?"
You think I got it together?
The absurdity of the question pushed out a laugh. Garrus choked it down. "I don't think it's really kicked in for me yet. Last time Shepard died, I ran off and got into some dumb crap. I thought I was doing a good thing, but it ended poorly." He rubbed his scarred mandible.
John puckered his lips. "Yeahhh, Jane told me about the whole Archangel thing."
"All of it?"
"All of it."
Garrus grimaced. "Great. So yeah, now I'm kind of just waiting to see what new dumb impulse takes over."
"Well, if you can have that impulse kick in during the funeral and distract from yesterday's fuckup, that would be great for me."
Despite himself, Garrus smiled. "You wish. Speaking of, we should call a cab."
Five minutes later, the men stood outside the hotel entrance, waiting.
Garrus looked up at the few clouds that dotted the sky. "It's going to rain later."
John had his hands in his pockets. "What makes you say that?"
"Injured my leg in the final push. Hurts whenever it rains now."
John nodded and went back to staring at the clouds. Just as the car pulled up, he abruptly turned to Garrus. "What's the last thing she said?"
That caught Garrus off guard. He stared at John in confusion.
John gripped Garrus's shoulders with a shocking intensity. "It's important. What was the last thing Jane said?"
Garrus could see Shepard standing just outside the evac shuttle, wind whipping her hair around her face. They were supposed to have stayed together until the end. She wasn't supposed to have saved him. There were a lot of supposed-to's that died that day. Garrus couldn't tell John about that last conversation. Maybe in forty years when it didn't hurt so much.
His voice was tight. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about it right now."
John was unrelenting. "I don't care about what she said to you specifically. What's the last thing she said to the crew?"
Ah. That.
Armageddon. The Great Day of Their Wrath. The Wheel of Life finally grinding to a halt. Countless religions throughout the galaxy had their own myths for the end-of-days, and all of them were simultaneously coming to pass.
First Palaven, then Thessia, and now Terra.
Garrus had the honor of experiencing his third planetary final stand against the Reapers. Spirits willing, this time they'd win.
What's the thing the humans say? There's no atheists on the battlefield?
He had never been to Terra before. It must have been a nice enough place before the Reaper attack. He kept telling himself that as he took in the remains of what used to be a major city. London. That's what it had been called. A base of operations had been set up in a partially shelled-out building complex, but most of what remained was just rubble.
The resistance forces found themselves in a wasteland of perpetual night. Everything was tinged with the sickening blue light that radiated from the conduit beam that connected Terra to the Citadel. Was it really night, or was there just so much destruction the sky had been permanently blacked out?
Garrus mulled over the implications from the safety of Anderson's convoy. He, Shepard, and Tali had clawed their way through London's carcass, slaughtering hordes of Reaper-infected undead in order to rendezvous with Admiral Anderson's Hammer squadron. The plan was to use the conduit beam to get to the Citadel and activate the Crucible. It was simple, really. Get from point A to B to C. Just don't die in the process.
And what a caveat that was. One Reaper was the size of a skyscraper. There were hundreds of them surrounding Terra alone.
Don't think about it. Don't think about the ones in space. Don't think about the ones in all the other star systems. Don't think about whether or not they're still attacking Palaven. Don't think about the fact that you haven't heard from your dad and sister in a while.
Dr. Chakwas had periodically briefed the Normandy crew on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Garrus was ready to add a new condition to her medical textbooks – Active Traumatic Stress Disorder. The stress had been ongoing for months now. They'd be lucky if they lived long enough to experience Post.
Shepard must have noticed him zone out. She put a hand on his knee.
Hammer squad closed in on the beam. It was going well. Too well. A blast struck their MAKO, tossing anyone who wasn't buckled down across the cabin. The team clambered outside to see the MAKO's nose on fire. Ahead of them lay the beam, with yet another Reaper descending to protect it.
It was the final stretch. Garrus and Tali flanked Shepard. Last check. Comms good. Guns up and ready. Shepard looked over at Garrus. They nodded at each other.
With you 'til the very end.
They stepped out from their cover. Shepard's comm went live to both the Normandy's channel and the proximity channel. She had one more rallying cry in her. At the top of her lungs she yelled, "COME ON YOU SONS OF BITCHES, DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER?!"
Garrus's visor lit up with the comm IDs of everyone linked to the Normandy's channel. A great roar flooded back in response. Garrus could only infer Shepard's war cry held specific meaning to the Alliance marines. Alenko, Vega, and Cortez sounded like they were losing their fucking minds.
Someone (maybe Cortez?) was banging a steady beat over the comm system. It sounded like a dull thud. A fist striking a wall or a cabin roof or a breastplate. Garrus began to synch himself to the beat. The beat was his breath, his running pace, his heart. The beat began to increase in tempo. They ran through the desolated landscape towards the beam, gunning down anything that got in their way.
In Garrus's peripheral vision, a fourth figure ran alongside them, rifle raised and alert. Garrus knew better than to try to turn to get a look at them. There would be nothing to see. A sense of calm washed over him.
The Normandy's Spirit is with us.
As they closed in on the beam, Garrus repeated to himself in time with the beat: Get her to the checkpoint. Get her to the checkpoint. Get her to the checkpoint. He didn't even feel it when the vehicle flipped onto him.
John finally released his grip on Garrus's shoulders. He nodded curtly. "Good."
The ride to Arlington National Cemetery passed in silence.