Chapter Text
The consequences of dying and being brought back to life were many. Every day seemed to reveal something new—whether it was a cultural trend she didn't understand, a technological advancement she had missed, or, worst of all, a physical reminder that her body was no longer just flesh and blood.
The mission had been a quick one. A distress call coming from some freighter, and of course, no response after Joker replied to their automated hail. On board was an entire crew’s worth of dead bodies, a surprised group of pirates, and an unstable engine core. Otherwise known as just another day at the office for Commander Shepard.
They had just dug themselves out of the first hallway they had slipped into when a hand pulled Shepard firmly back into cover. Seconds later a rocket exploded directly where her head had just been.
“I owe you one,” she said without sparing a glance his way.
“I think we’re probably even now, Shepard.” Garrus tilted his head to listen for activity and when he presumably heard nothing he motioned her forward. It was one of the things she had come to enjoy about having a turian on her team. His advanced hearing nearly always came in handy. She was glad to see his own little rendezvous with a rocket hadn’t impacted any of his senses. Or maybe that had more to do with the faint glow of cybernetics she could see through his bandage. Regardless Shepard didn’t really like to think about how close she had come to watching Garrus die that day, so she brushed the thoughts away and crept out to get a better view.
A flicker of motion in her periphery sent her sliding behind a crate for cover. But apparently luck wasn’t on her side that day—her shields dropped, her cover broke apart, and pain shot through her leg in an instant. Shepard barely registered the sound of someone calling out her name as she pulled herself upright to return fire. Three shots later, the nearest pirate was down, and she managed to crawl behind a low wall for cover, leaving a trail of blood across the floor, bright red and shining. It was almost satisfying to see, to know that despite everything she could still bleed. A moment later, Garrus slid into place behind Shepard and fired two quick shot before turning to her. His eyes were filled with barely contained anxiety as he scanned her body and finally settled his gaze on her leg.
Shepard didn’t have time to worry about the way his mandible dropped or the pain coursing through her thigh. Instead she pushed herself up and returned fire on the pirates once more. The third member of their team, Jacob, who had been a generous show of conciliatory teamwork on her part was pinned down across the room. Last she had seen him the biotics were at least helping to keep the advancing forces at bay.
“Shepard, turn around. You need medigel.” Garrus ducked down as a shot grazed the top of the short wall they were huddled behind.
“Not now, Garrus. If you want to help, just put that rifle to good use.”
Garrus muttered some complaint under his breath, but did what Shepard ordered. By now the stab of pain in her leg had morphed into somewhat of a sharp, throbbing sting, and with it came the faint realization that walking was going to be more than a little difficult. She reached down and pressed her hand against her thigh, but immediately pulled away with a yelp as if she had been burned. Garrus dropped down in an instant, and she didn’t even need to understand subvocals to hear how worried he was.
“What happened? You okay?”
Truthfully she had no idea what happened. Her hand had pressed into the wound and felt what she could only describe as an electric shock, as if a current was running through her exposed veins. The strange sensation hadn’t hurt, but had managed to catch her completely by surprise. Not that she said any of that to Garrus. He looked worried enough as is without her sharing the eccentricities of her new body.
“There’s a lot of blood,” Garrus said once the last pirate was disposed of. But he wasn’t looking out at the room which was covered in an array of red, blue, and green like some sort of an abstract art installation. His eyes were situated firmly on Shepard.
She looked away, unable to sit still under the weight of his concern, and opened her comm channel. “Jacob, you still with us?” When he replied in the affirmative she told him to scout ahead. “Try not to engage until we meet up with you. I’ve got a minor suit malfunction to deal with, but we shouldn’t be long.”
“A suit malfunction?” Garrus muttered with amusement. “Is that what we’re calling being shot these days?”
“Just shut up and give me that medigel.”
Garrus had the audacity to swat her hand away. “Let me do it.”
With a sigh, Shepard shifted to give him space. She hated being tended to, especially in the field, but there was no hiding the tremble in her hand after touching that unnatural current beneath her skin. It was jarring, to say the least. The reminder of what had been done to her body brought a surge of bile to her throat.
“Looks like some asshole on their side was using armor piercing rounds. Went straight through.”
A faint ripping sound reached her ears, and Shepard glanced down at Garrus kneeling beside her, his tall frame still practically towering over her. The shattered piece of her hardsuit lay discarded, and what had been a small tear in her undersuit was now a gaping hole, its edges frayed and coated with blood. Garrus noticed her gaze and dipped his head. “Sorry I had to tear through your suit. It looks pretty deep, judging by the bleeding, but this should keep it under control until we’re back on the Normandy.”
“It’s fine. I’m sure Cerberus will be happy to buy me a new suit,” she replied with a slight grin. It was quickly wiped from her face by the sudden pressure of his fingers in her wound, followed by that deliciously cool feeling of the gel seeping deep into her muscles. Her body shuddered instinctively as the relief spread and began to numb the pain. Meanwhile Garrus’ ungloved fingers lingered just to the left of the tear in her suit, resting lightly against her thigh. Before she could get a good look at them he rocked backwards onto his feet and slid his glove smoothly back over his hand.
“Better?” Garrus asked, though he was already moving toward the door on the far side of the room they were in, rifle gripped tightly between his talons. Right, they still had the rest of the ship to clear out.
Shepard pushed herself to her feet to test her weight and was glad to find that the medigel had done its job. “Much. Thanks Garrus.” Shepard snapped her damaged thigh guard back into place and moved past him.
“Anytime,” he said from behind her, voice low and roiling with that underlying vibration she had always found so fascinating. It was deeper now, rough and gravelly in a way it hadn’t been when he was two years younger. Shepard still couldn’t believe that, after everything he had been through while she was dead, their paths had managed to cross again. And because she was just grateful to have someone she could actually trust at her side on this crazy mission, Shepard turned and shot him a quick smile over her shoulder. He seemed to return it, or at least, he flared out his un-bandaged mandible in what she had always equated with a smile. The sight was so rare these days it tugged on some nostalgic part of her that yearned for those old, less complicated days chasing Saren through the stars.
Maybe she was crazy for calling that time in her life “less complicated,” but compared to the unbelievable reality her life had descended into after being reincarnated, it seemed a fitting description.
The moment stretched for a heartbeat, and then two, with both Garrus and Shepard staring at each other with grins on their mismatched faces. No doubt both of them were feeling a pull towards that old friendship that had transcended both rank and reason back when things were still relatively easy. And then Jacob was calling her name from across the room and the moment shattered. Shepard saw the instant Garrus’ face hardened, and the anguish that so rarely left his icy blue eyes lately, came rushing back.
Pistol in hand, she turned away and focused her attention back on the mission.
Three days later Shepard was in her cabin, leg having already healed from some combination of medigel, state-of-the-art equipment, and Chakwas’ professional care. But Shepard also couldn’t shake the thought that whatever Miranda had done to her body it included giving her the ability to heal far more rapidly than the average human. The idea put her in a foul mood, as had the glimpse at the medical display when Chakwas was running a scan of the damage to her thigh. Not only were there threads of cybernetics woven throughout her body, as evidenced by the glowing red scars that stretched across her skin, but there were also random other bits of tech. Her spine appeared to be grafted with some sort of metal as did various other bones on her arm and leg. Random muscles were covered in a criss-cross texture that suggested they too were likely synthetic.
Shepard sat up in bed and reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, only to find it empty. With a groan, she set it back down. It was the middle of the night, and instead of sleeping, she was occupied with a growing list of requests and assignments waiting for her attention.The Illusive Man had been so kind as to provide dossiers for the people they were picking up, but traversing across the galaxy took time. Time the Collectors were using to target more human colonies and yet, so far, they hadn’t received a word of intel that brought her any closer to stopping them.
Shepard continued scrolling through her datapad. There was the krogan reported to be on Korlus, two leads on potential recruits on Illium, and a handful of other requests Kelly had sent through to her inbox. Some were from the Illusive Man himself, mostly check-ins on some inept sector of Cerberus that had gone silent. She would have simply deleted those were it not for the plan she and Garrus had concocted. Strolling into some abandoned Cerberus lab would give them plenty of opportunity to collect data on the organization. And yet it still probably wouldn’t give them the info they really needed for the larger mission.
Name: Dr. Okeer
Age: Unknown
Species: Krogan
Last Known Location: Imir System, Korlus, Rektakka Shipyard
Key Attributes:
- Millennia of combat and strategic experience
- Rumored familiarity with Collector technology
Background:
A brilliant and brutal krogan warlord who fought in the Krogan Rebellions, Dr. Okeer has become obsessed with saving the krogan people from the genophage and is believed to have contacted the Collectors in an attempt to gain technology to that end.
Critical Observations:
Our most recent scouting report placed him in a Blue Suns camp on Korlus. The nature of his relationship with the mercenary group is unknown.
If Okeer had really contacted the Collectors then he may be the best lead they currently had. Everything else could wait. Shepard notified Joker to alter course for the Eagle Nebula and felt only a little bad when she realized she had woken him from what must have been a deep sleep.
“Estimated time until we hit the relay is seven hours, thirty two minutes. I anticipate arrival in Korlus’ orbit approximately three hours, twenty eight minutes later.”
“Thanks EDI.” It would be well past the start of the day cycle by then so Shepard refrained from messaging her team, instead opting to take her empty glass into the bathroom and fill it at the sink. She drank as her eyes focused on the empty fish tank and the display case, which looked suspiciously like it was designed for model ships. She’d had a handful of them on the original Normandy, still half put together when it was destroyed. Back then it had been a way of winding down after a long mission, of letting her mind focus in on one small task instead of the hundreds of other thoughts required to command a team and captain a ship.
Not even a model ship would be enough to quell the storm of thoughts that stirred constantly in her head now. She hated how dangerously close some of them veered into darker territory. After all it wouldn’t take much effort to fling herself back into that cold embrace outside the ship walls, to close her eyes and just be done. There were times when it seemed far better than the strange and oppressive reality of living in a body that shouldn’t exist.
Despite the thoughts, Shepard never planned to act on them. She had died a meaningless death once already, and she damn sure wasn’t going to go out like that a second time. No, her second death, whenever it came, would be earned in the fires of battle. The concept felt very turian, having known only what little Garrus had shared about their military doctrine. She hadn’t given much thought to those ideals then, but Die for the Cause suddenly had a certain appeal. At the very least this mission she was on might let her die with some fucking bravado.
Below her bare feet, the metal floor hummed with energy. Joker must have engaged FTL since they spoke, which meant now was as good a time as any to try and get some rest. She returned to the bed, the dark expanse of space streaked with blue visible overhead. Once upon a time the sight had been a comforting one. The never-ending blackness dotted with that infinite array of stars and planets had been home for as long as Shepard could remember. What a cruel twist of fate that those fond memories of stargazing with her brother were replaced with ones of gasping uselessly for air.
With a deep sigh Shepard dropped back onto her pillow and tried to remember what it had felt like to look at that void of space and actually feel warmth.
Message Received. 02:048hrs GST 2185:06:02
_____
To: Vakarian, G.
From: Vakarian, C.
Garrus,
This message is long overdue. After our last talk, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear from you again. I admit, I was scared to reach out. The thought of not getting a reply was almost too much to handle and it made me take a hard look at our relationship. I worry I have not been the best father to you—-that I didn’t prepare you for the trials you would face or give you the support you needed. Now I’m afraid I may have lost you for good.Your mother asks about you all the time. I think she can tell I’m not being fully honest with her, but without knowing exactly what’s going on, I can’t bring myself to share my worries—especially when she’s only herself half the time.
I don’t need all the details of where you’ve been or what you’re up to. I just need to know you’re okay. If you are, then please, come home. Not just for me, but for your mother. She misses you, and truth be told, so do I.
- Dad
Garrus had already read through the message more times than he could count. It was there when he woke to the silence of the battery, already taunting him as checked the time. He could hardly remember the call with his dad from Omega, let alone ascertain what part of him had decided that Castis Vakarian should be the last voice he ever heard. Maybe his addled brain had wanted to make amends, to soothe some part of his spirit so he could fully rest in the afterlife. Garrus had almost begun to believe he had imagined the whole thing, including the worry in his father’s tone seeping in between rifle fire, that is until this message.
In the chaos that had ensued afterward the phone call had slipped out of Garrus’ mind and he had fallen straight back into his self-imposed exile from his family. It wasn’t like there had been some big decision to remove them from his life. No, it had happened gradually. One missed call, another delayed response, and soon two months had gone by since he had spoken to any of them.
A pang of regret sprung up into his chest. Before Garrus left the Citadel he and his father were hardly on speaking terms, but his mother had always called to check in regularly. She knew he was hurting after Shepard’s death, but she was too far away and Garrus had become set on doing something drastic. Had things been different he might have missed the slightly unfocused look in her eyes during their calls, or the small pauses that punctuated the conversation. Instead he found out about her diagnosis after he had been living on Omega for weeks.
His sister had been messaging him for days, asking him to call. Like an asshole he ignored her, unable to take yet another dig at his decision to blow up his own life. Garrus had blocked his father for the same thing while he had still been on the transport cruiser. He didn’t need anyone to tell him how irresponsible he was being. He already knew, but at the time the pain in his chest overwhelmed any rational thought he might have had.
Solana’s call woke Garrus from a blacked out sleep. He answered, hungover and body aching as she begged him to come home. Garrus sat up and turned on a lamp, blinking back at the harsh neon glow, and attempted to focus on what she was saying.
“You can tell dad I’m not coming back,” he responded with agitation. How many times did he have to tell them, there was nothing left for him on the Citadel.
Solana huffed on the other end of the call, a desperation he hadn’t heard from her in years bleeding through her subvocals. “This isn’t about dad! It’s mom—she collapsed a few days ago, didn’t know where she was. They took her to the hospital, ran some tests…”
That made him straighten up, the dull ache in his head suddenly gone. “Is she okay?”
“No. The doctors said she has Corpalis. Garrus…it’s really bad.”
He had heard of the disease. Despite how rare it was, it wasn’t difficult to grow up on Palaven and hear stories of turians who lost their memory, whose bodies wasted away until the person they once were simply ceased to exist. It was a horrifying disease, and one his mom, the sharpest person he knew, couldn’t possibly have.
“No,” he responded, shaking his head even though his sister couldn’t see him. “She can’t have Corpalis. You need to get a second opinion. Maybe one of the private hospitals on the Citadel?” Garrus was already looking up options when his sister cut him off.
“We got a second opinion, and a third. And besides, you don’t know how she’s been. You haven’t seen it. The doctor said it’s already progressed and things are only going to get worse from here.”
“It looks like there’s new treatments, research…”Garrus scrolled through his omni-tool, ignoring the sad hum drifting through the speaker.
“Can’t you just come home? This would all be easier with you here.”
She didn’t understand. He couldn’t go home, not now. The hollow ache inside was only made wider by the thought of his mom wasting away. Garrus didn’t want to see her like that. He didn’t think he was strong enough to handle it. Besides it wasn’t like his presence would bring any sort of calm to the situation. Putting him and his dad in the same room was just asking for a volatile situation, one that might even shatter his already broken family.
“I can’t, Sol. I’m—”
“You’re what? Don’t you dare tell me you’re too busy. You may not have bothered to reach out to me, but I know all about how you quit C-Sec and disappeared.”
Garrus groaned and rubbed his neck, wincing against the loud voice of his sister. “Sol, look, I’ve got some contract work I have to finish up. It might take a while, but I can at least send some funds. For treatment.”
“The treatments actually worth a damn are pretty expensive, you know? Can you really help? Dad’s been thinking about picking up work on Palaven to pay for them.” She was quiet for a moment, but the steady buzz of her subvocals came through the connection with a disappointed thrum. “He’s sorry for how things went down, by the way.”
Garrus let out a frustrated growl in response. “Then he should have told me that himself.”
After a few more short exchanges they had ended the call, and over the next year and a half the number of times Garrus spoke with his sister could be counted on two hands. He had left behind more than just his career when he disappeared after Shepard’s death. His relationship with his family had been just another casualty in his foolish quest for justice.
Yet, something about this message from his father caught Garrus’ attention. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but it was one of the first times he could ever remember Castis Vakarian admitting his own folly when it came to their broken relationship.
It was for that reason he eventually mustered up a short response.
To: Vakarian, C.
From: Vakarian, G.
Hey dad,
Sorry to worry you, but I’m okay. Ended up running into an old friend who helped with those targets. I’ve got a few things to wrap up out here before I can make it back to Palaven and I’ll probably be in and out of comm range for a while.
Be in touch when I can. Say hi to mom and Sol for me.
- Garrus
He pressed send and collapsed back onto his cot only for his tool to immediately start buzzing with an incoming call. The suddenness of it caused him to flinch. There was no way his father could have even received his response yet, let alone get a call through from Palaven to whatever part of space he was currently moving through. It shouldn’t be possible, and yet Garrus wouldn’t put it past Castis to defy the laws of galactic communications to berate his disappointment of an only son. He slowly lifted his arm and peered at the small orange screen with one eye still closed.
It wasn’t his dad. Garrus scrambled to answer before the call ended, somehow managing to knock his crest against the metal wall with a loud clang.
“Garrus? Everything all right down there?”
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing at his crest and sitting up. “It’s, uh, fine. Did you need me for something?”
“Got another recruitment mission. We’re enroute now to Korlus, ever heard of it?”
“Uh, yeah. Not much there other than crime and a massive ship graveyard. I’m almost afraid to ask who we could possibly be picking up from a place like that.”
“Believe it or not, a krogan scientist.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And guess who else is reportedly going to be joining the party— the fucking Blue Suns. I swear those sons of bitches are like rats, scurrying all over the galaxy. Anyway you’re on ground team. Thoughts on a third?”
The conversation served as the perfect distraction from the guilt souring his stomach. Garrus had never thought himself a particularly good turian, or even a halfway decent son, but he dreaded the disappointment in his mom’s subvocals if she ever found out how he spent the last two years. Truthfully Garrus was more than happy for the chance to spend the rest of the day behind his scope. It was certainly better than dwelling on his failures.
It was cold in the shuttle bay, a fact Garrus had plenty of time to complain about since he was the first to arrive. It seemed that humans' inability to properly heat a spacefaring vessel was a universal truth. He settled onto a bench and crossed his arms, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait too long. As a shiver ran through him, Garrus finally gave in and adjusted the heating in his suit, just as the lift arrived.
Much to his dismay it wasn’t Shepard, but instead the old merc who had been with her on Omega. Garrus didn’t remember much from that fight, but Shepard insisted the man was both extremely capable and had knowledge of the Blue Suns. And the fact that he wasn’t Cerberus was another point in his favor.
The man climbed into the shuttle and stopped short, giving Garrus what he thought might be an appraising look. “Well I’ll be damned…last time I saw you, you were bleeding out all over the goddamn floor. Figured you were dead.”
Garrus looked up, assessing the man and his weapons as he settled his own rifle across his knees. He let out a low hum and let his eyes drift back toward the elevator, willing Shepard to appear and save him from small talk. “What can I say? I’m hard to kill.”
Zaeed barked a laugh and tilted his head toward the doorway. “Guess we all have that in common, eh?”
Garrus didn’t reply and thankfully Zaeed seemed to get the message that he wasn’t particularly interested in filling the silence. A few moments later Shepard stomped onto the shuttle, grabbed a handhold and banged roughly on the pilot’s door. As the doors closed and the shuttle lifted off she turned toward Zaeed. “You read the briefing?”
“Yeah,” Zaeed replied. He was sprawled out on his bench, taking up more than his fair share of room with his legs practically spread out across the floor. “We’re supposed to dig through this junk heap to find some old krogan so you can talk to him. In case you didn’t know, sweetheart, krogan ain’t much for talking.”
Garrus snapped his head up and eyed the man. “Never underestimate Shepard’s ability to persuade someone.” He was already beginning to regret bringing Zaeed along as their third for this mission.
The man ignored him and kept his eyes on Shepard. “So, you got more intel or are we just going in blind?”
Shepard herself seemed mostly unfazed by Zaeed’s comments. She stood against the wall, one hand gripping the overhead hold as the shuttle tilted toward the planet’s surface. “We have coordinates and data that shows Blue Suns presence near the target. Other than that we’ll be making it up as we go.”
“Goddamn great.”
“Look Massani, I would love to have more information, but we’re working with what we’ve got here. So either cut the attitude and get in line, or get off my ship, because I have zero patience for anyone that’s not fully committed to this mission. You understand me?”
Zaeed glared at her for a moment and Shepard glared right back. Garrus merely watched the exchange with interest. He always liked when Shepard got like this. Small as she was he had never seen her back down from a confrontation or be afraid to assert her rank when it came down to it. After a moment, Zaeed broke eye contact and barked out a laugh.
“You’ve got guts, kid. I’ll give you that. Don’t worry about me—I know how to do my job.” He glanced away, inspecting his gun as if he hadn’t just been put in his place. Meanwhile Garrus let out a quiet trill, while a slow, triumphant smirk spread across Shepard’s lips. She straightened up and faced forward, watching the monitor display their progress as the shuttle rocked through the lower atmosphere.
A crack of a rifle report and a shot screaming overhead ended in yet another merc dropping dead at the far end of the wreckage. Shepard kneeled down and put her back to the rusted out hull she and Zaeed were taking cover behind so she could catch her breath. Already they had been finding through this god forsaken ship graveyard for hours, and despite the strength in her new muscles she was starting to run low on energy and patience alike. Between the mercenaries, the insane krogan combatants, and the bitch getting off to the sound of her own voice through the loudspeaker, Shepard was far past ready to be done with this place.
Up and to her right, Shepard caught a glimpse of Garrus’ crest as he ducked back into the sniper nest he had claimed. One more deep breath in and Shepard pushed to her knees to send several pistol rounds into the shield of a batarian who was advancing on their position. The second it fizzled and disappeared, another rifle report sent him sprawling across the ground in a spray of red.
“Damn. Kid's a hell of a shot, ain't he?”
“Is that a compliment I just heard, Zaeed?” The man grumbled beside her and unholstered his own sniper to scope out the end of the platform.
“Heads up, movement on your left. I don’t have a clear shot.” Garrus’ voice came through the comm link, clear and focused. She raised her gun and swiveled to her left, where she could just barely spot the blue glow of tech armor seeping out from behind a piece of debris.
“I see them,” she replied before engaging her cloak. “Garrus, go on and scout ahead while we finish up here.”
“Copy that.”
Shepard vaulted over their cover and skirted along the outside of the wreckage until she was able to spot a lone turian in Suns armor taking refuge. Still invisible to anyone without a high-tech visor Shepard reached back and pulled out her rifle—a Cerberus-issued Mantis without the fancy paint job or the multiple modifications Garrus had on his. After seeing what he could do with the gun she really wanted a chance to take it for a spin herself, but the guy never seemed to let the damn thing out of his sight. She figured he probably even slept with it under his cot.
The remaining Blue Suns member shifted and sat up, aiming at the spot Shepard had just vacated. Before he could fire, Shepard hit him square in the chest, dropping his shield. She quickly reloaded and fired a second round directly into his center. He slumped back against a crate, blue blood seeping from the wound near his keel.
“Target neutralized,” she announced over the comm channel.
“Shepard, the way ahead looks clear. If I had to guess I’d say we’re getting close to the lab.”
“About time. Let’s get this over with. Come on, Zaeed.”
They picked their way through the carnage to a door with a working holo-lock. Shepard stopped and looked around.
“Garrus, you joining us down here or what?”
A flash of dark blue in her periphery was followed by a quiet thud as Garrus dropped down from the upper level with an obscene amount of grace for someone who was seven feet tall. He flared out his mandible in a crooked grin as he straightened and stepped up to her side.
“You somehow always manage to find the nicest places, Shepard.”
“Only the best for you.”
“Oy, you two gonna stand there and chat all day or can we go through the fucking door?”
“What’s wrong Massani? Feeling left out?” she asked as she urged Garrus toward the hololock. She still needed him to share his hacking protocol with her. She missed the days when she could crack open doors herself, but unfortunately, technology had passed her by in the last two years.
Garrus slumped onto the bench with a groan, propping his rifle up between his knees. Eight hours on the planet’s surface had left his muscles aching, even before the effects of his last stim had worn off. With a stretch he slipped his hands behind his neck in an attempt to hide the shaking that had started toward the end of their fight with Jedore. Thankfully by then they had moved into close quarters so Garrus had already switched to his assault rifle and had no more need for finesse. Good thing too, not only were his hands shaking, but his body had begun to slow, his muscles growing heavier with each minute that passed.
He had played off his sluggish movements as exhaustion, but he didn’t miss the look of concern that flashed behind Shepard’s eyes when they sat down in the lab to wait for the Normandy shuttle to return. It was easy enough to wave her off and take a few bites of stale ration bar he packed, but Shepard had never strayed too far and because of that Garrus hadn’t found a single moment for another hit.
In the end they hadn’t even fulfilled their objective on Korlus. Thanks to Jedore losing her mind, the old krogan, Okeer, had died before he could even give them any useful intel on the Collectors. To say it was a disappointing finale to the day was a vast understatement and Garrus knew Shepard had been trying to salvage the mission any way she could by insisting they take the tank krogan with them.
Which of course brought along a whole new ordeal of how to get the tank out of the lab and back to the Normandy. It took two hover lifts and both Garrus and Zaeed to push the tank into place on said lifts, which succeeded in draining him of the minuscule amount of energy remaining in his body. Now Garrus was practically counting down the seconds until they docked with the Normandy, eager to disappear into the battery and finally get some relief from the jittery sensation crawling across his plates.
“You know, I once knew a krogan who slept in a tank.” Zaeed’s voice cut through Garrus’ thoughts. He let out a low, chittering growl at the intrusion before he could stop himself.
Garrus opened his eyes ever so slightly. Directly across from him was Shepard, who sat perfectly still with her head leaned all the way back against the wall. In lieu of asking Zaeed not so kindly to shut the hell up, Garrus instead focused his attention on the human he actually liked looking at. He took in the lines of her face, the angular jut of her chin and the subtle curve of her cheeks, cut through with cracked, red scars. She hadn’t said as much, but Garrus got the impression she hated those scars. He had wondered more than a few times if they felt hot to the touch like the ones hidden beneath his bandages, or if she could hear the buzzing under her smooth skin like he could at night when the rest of the ship was dead quiet.
The shuttle hit a pocket of air and Shepard stirred with a stretch of her arms up and over her head. As Zaeed continued his tangent in the corner, Garrus slid further down in his seat until his crest rested against the top of the bench and shut his eyes once more.
“That was back around the time I was working on Anhur. Or maybe it was after. Anyway, the guy found some old earth vid about vampires and fancied the lifestyle. Dressed in all black and everything. Good thing the bastard never took to drinking blood. Only so far you can take something like that before it gets too weird. Craziest son of a bitch—damn if he wasn’t a good shot when it counted though…”