Chapter Text
Garrus could tell you the exact moment it happened. The exact moment he realised he looked at Shepard as something other than his commander.
It was in the Mako, on Ilos. Liara looked through the windshield, her eyes widening in wonder. ‘There. The conduit. It’s incredible,’ she breathed. Garrus was briefly jealous of her ability to be so consumed by such an innocent emotion as wonder when the galaxy was moments away from going to shit.
‘We don’t have time to admire the view. We have to get through that relay, and these geth aren’t going to make it easy on us,’ he replied, voice terse.
Shepard was too distracted by the situation to even take in Liara’s awe. Her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, and her eyes narrowed slightly. Without saying a word, she flattened the accelerator and the Mako began to pick up speed.
The conduit flickered, and Shepard made a small sound of frustration in her throat. ‘It’s closing,’ she muttered, unadulterated fury in her tone. She navigated easily around a geth colossus, her skills behind the vehicle’s wheel so honed it was like she’d been doing it her whole life. ‘It’s closing us out. Fuck that. Fuck Saren. Fuck Sovereign. Fuck.’
Her hands were now so tight on the steering wheel that her knuckles were completely white. She radiated pure determination to such an extent it practically heated the Mako. Garrus glanced sideways at her as she swerved around another colossus.
‘Hang on. Things are going to get a little rough,’ Garrus called to Liara, who nodded in reply and grabbed onto one of the safety bars.
‘And fuck these tinny bastards,’ Shepard said impatiently, firing the cannon to explode an armature that was in her way. The Mako continued to accelerate, showing her absolute trust in her aim as they drove through the exact spot the armature had been a second before. Garrus doubted the Mako had ever reached these speeds before, and the he couldn’t help the rush it gave him.
Shepard made a little sound, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down his spine. She was furious and focused and … so beautiful.
He had never seen her so beautiful.
The thought strolled into his head leisurely, naturally, like it had always been lurking there, waiting for its time to appear. Even so, it took him by surprise. As did the unexpected rumble of appreciation that burst through his subvocals, which then trilled with something else too: wonder.
Huh. Maybe there was time to feel wonder when the galaxy was going to shit, he thought. Maybe Liara did have her priorities in order, after all.
He had, of course, always admired Shepard, since the moment he had met her. He had never respected anyone more. She had proven herself time and time again, not just in battle, but socially and politically too.
She was his commander, but also his best friend. They’d spent so many hours talking, laughing, sharing stories. He always looked forward to when she would appear by the Mako at the end of her rounds, always saving him for last.
There was no one he would rather follow. Even if he followed her to his end.
This woman, so calculated and yet so excitingly reckless, who was feared by so many and respected by even more, had brought his life excitement, challenge and, above all, purpose. He would be in her debt until the moment he died, and, in all honesty, that moment didn’t look too far away, especially if they made it through the conduit. There was a goddamn reaper waiting on the other side, along with one of the most powerful and deadly turians he had ever known of.
The blue beam of light was flickering more now, taunting them as they approached. He glanced back to Shepard, and saw the corner of her mouth lift into a ghost of a smile, and that was the moment he knew they would make it in time. Something swelled in his chest; they would get there. It wasn’t over yet.
She gave him hope. Hope for life, hope for the universe.
Hope for more?
They entered the conduit’s light, and instantaneously they were propelled through the relay, eventually being spat out of that Prothean sculpture on the Citadel.
Huh. So that’s what that was for, he mused to himself. He wished he’d paid more attention to it during his time with C-Sec.
The Mako crashed through the two geth that had been standing guard, and Shepard gave a little throaty laugh of triumph. Garrus couldn’t help but give a chuckle of his own in response. The sound of her laughing was something he wanted to bottle, to keep in his pocket forever, to listen to in his darkest moments. It was rare he heard it outside of the Normandy, this magical sound that resonated within his core.
Liara looked wildly at both them, convinced they were both going mad to be laughing at such a time.
The Mako tipped and then began to roll, and they were all flung forward, held back by their seatbelts. Metal screeched and sparks flew as it slid to a stop. Not even stopping for a moment to breathe, with that oh-so-Shepard impatience to throw herself into battle, she released her seatbelt, then kicked the window panel with her boot, hard. The seal was loose from the damage the Mako had taken, and by the third kick, the panel flew forwards.
‘Time to go fuck up a reaper,’ she said, in the same tone you’d use when saying it was time to wash the dishes, or reply to a mail message on the extranet. So casual, so ready, as she rolled out of the vehicle with determination in her eyes.
The woman just faced everything that came her way. He was almost overwhelmed with the admiration that flooded his body.
This wasn’t just admiration or respect, he thought. This was something more.
With his epiphany complete, and their counter-assault about to begin, Garrus switched his mind into battle mode, and stored his new realisation away to deal with later.
***
Garrus lay there, on his bed, on the Citadel, staring at the ceiling tiles as he relived the memory of the moment he knew he had feelings for his commander.
Why am I thinking about this now?
He had been exhausted when he got into bed – spectre training really kicks your ass, even if you’re used to following Shepard around the galaxy.
Sleep had completely evaded him. He had never had issues with sleep – the life he had lived meant his body knew to switch off the moment his head hit the pillow, to cram in as much sleep as possible whenever the opportunity presented itself.
His mind conjured up the rest of that memory, despite the efforts he had made to repress it.
Shepard’s bullet had finally put down that Saren-reaper hybrid thing, the body disintegrating into black dust right in front of them. The sounds of heavy gunfire and missiles rained from above them as the battle against Sovereign waged on.
Garrus had later found out that the final blast had come from the Normandy itself. Joker had regaled them with the story of the reaper battle later, when they had all returned to the ship.
The Normandy blast caused immense damage to Sovereign, which had already been weakened by the persistence of the Alliance fleet. It imploded, the sound so loud that Shepard, Liara and Garrus had all looked up in shock. They could see pieces of the reaper spinning in all directions, and one piece of debris had been heading straight for them.
Shepard pieced it together a nanosecond before Garrus did. ‘Go!’ she screamed.
Liara, standing right next to Garrus, had grabbed his arm and ran. Shepard had been right behind them. He should have taken her hand. Something.
The debris smashed through the glass, crashing to a destructive stop. The force of the impact flung Liara and Garrus to the floor. Garrus grunted as pain in his side bloomed. He must have blacked out for a moment from the pain, because the next thing he knew, Liara was over him, hands shaking his shoulders.
‘Garrus?’ she said, voice panicked. ‘Garrus!’ That time, her voice had been raw fear and it had jerked him back to consciousness.
‘Where’s Shepard?’ was the first thing he asked her, before even opening his eyes.
She didn’t reply. Garrus looked at her. She wasn’t looking back at him; she was looking at the destruction around them, specifically the giant hunk of reaper that was now in front of them.
Right where Shepard had been standing.
Garrus looked at Liara in horror. ‘Where is she?!’ he demanded, and he could hear the terror shaking his voice. Liara’s eyes filled with tears.
‘She was there, Garrus,’ she breathed. ‘Right behind us. It … there’s no way …’
It was like the universe was playing some incredibly sick joke on them. They hadn’t come all this way, achieved all they had done, killed a fucking reaper for god’s sake, for it to end like this.
Garrus hauled himself up, pressing one hand to the pain in his side. But that pain was nothing like the other feeling. The feeling of hope being extinguished, of more being extinguished.
A noise to his left told him that rescue had arrived and was beginning to pull the big pieces of concrete and reaper debris away from where they were trapped. Garrus couldn’t give a shit about being rescued. Someone needed to go and rescue the commander, not him. She was more important. And she must be hurt. Because she had to be alive. There was no alternative.
The light from an omni-tool blinded him momentarily. He heard someone calling for Captain Anderson, who soon appeared, crouched in front of them.
‘Take it easy,’ he said, calmingly, ‘It’s over. You’re safe now.’ He glanced at Garrus, who was staring numbly down at the floor. Anderson returned his attention to Liara. ‘Where’s the commander? Where’s Shepard?’
From the corner of his eye, Garrus could see Liara shaking her head. She glanced meaningfully at the piece of reaper that looked like it had melded with the floor. Anderson followed her eyeline. Garrus looked back at the floor before he could see the realisation that would inevitably dawn on Anderson’s face.
Shepard might be dead.
The thought made him hollow and numb. The thought of her little smile as they approached the beacon replayed over and over in his mind. Someone hauled Garrus to his feet, but he didn’t want to go with them. Shepard was here, somewhere. They had to find her.
She couldn’t be dead.
Garrus staggered forwards, and Anderson placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
That’s when he heard it. Running. Someone was running.
Garrus turned to look over his shoulder, his head swimming. He saw a flash of armour, and narrowed his eyes, begging his brain to focus, just for a moment. This was important.
Anderson’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
And then, there she was. Looking like hell warmed up, but alive. She was holding her arm as if it were broken, and she couldn’t stand up completely straight. But Shepard was alive.
Never in his life had Garrus ever felt an emotion as strong as the relief that surged through his body.
Why am I thinking about this now? he asked himself again, still staring at the ceiling tiles above him. He could count them if he wanted to. Maybe that would help bring sleep. What was it Shepard had once said humans count to sleep? Sweep? Cheep? Something like that. Those weird fluffy things that somehow turned into human clothing. He hadn’t ever had the guts to search it on the extranet, it sounded horrific.
He tried desperately to move away from the memory of that moment. The moment when he had thought his commander, his Shepard, had died, had been the worst moment of his entire life. The memory of it tortured him.
When they had all got back to the Normandy, and had left Citadel airspace, the entire crew had sat around with beers and wine, celebrating their success against Sovereign. Shepard had sat there quiet for most of it, staring down at her drink with haunted eyes, and Garrus had known it was because she was struggling to comprehend that there were more reapers, and they would be coming too. They hadn’t stopped the threat, merely delayed it, and she looked pained at the thought of it. She carried the weight of the universe on her shoulders, but still managed to smile weakly at him when she realised he was watching her.
Garrus had lifted his glass and tipped it in a silent salute to her, and she smiled wider, giving him a little salute back with her wine glass. Garrus was relieved that none of the crew could understand his subvocals which were rumbling with affection just from looking at her.
Later, when the crew were all inebriated and Joker had begun leading everyone in a raucous sing-a-long of a human song, much to the confusion of the non-human crew (Garrus quickly searched it on his omni-tool to try and figure out the lyrics), Shepard had quietly stood from the table, and made her way to stand at the bar in the kitchen area. Garrus watched her for a moment, and when she clearly struggled with getting the cork from the wine bottle because of her injuries, Garrus stood before he had even fully processed that she needed help.
He made his way over to Shepard, and she looked up at him as he approached. She looked exhausted, but her eyes still had a twinkle in them. Garrus had never really looked at human eyes in detail, but hers were the exception. He’d looked at them many times, and even the first time he had realised hers were special. At the time, he had guessed that was because she always had a determined glint in them, but now he realised it was their colour and the way they sparkled when she looked at him. He figured that kind of vibrant green must be pretty rare, because he hadn’t ever seen it before on another human.
‘Didn’t feel like singing along?’ she asked him.
‘ABBAs aren’t really my thing. I prefer the Queen.’
Thank you omni-tool, he thought to himself. He wasn’t sure why showing preference for a monarch over an ABBA, whatever that was, made sense, but Shepard grinned at him.
‘Not the Queen. Queen. It’s a band. So is ABBA. They’re from nearly 200 years ago, but it’s better music than half the shit that gets recorded these days.’
Bands. That made much more sense now. They were band names.
Shepard laughed at the clear look of comprehension that must have dawned on Garrus’ face.
‘Not a human music expert, Vakarian? You surprise me,’ she teased, before turning her attention back to the wine bottle.
‘On the contrary, I studied human music throughout my education,’ Garrus replied, watching her brow furrow slightly as she tried to figure out how to use the metal tool (which, he noticed with concern, looked like a torture device for someone’s unmentionables) to retrieve the cork with only one functioning arm.
‘Really?’ she asked, surprised.
‘No. It’s all a bit whiny to our ears.’
‘You put up with Wrex; surely you’re immune to whining by now.’
Garrus chuckled at that. He reached over and took the torture device from her small hands. ‘Let me.’
‘Commander Shepard saves the Citadel but can’t work out how to use a cork screw,’ she said, more to herself than to him. He could detect the frustration in her tone.
‘A cork screw? I think I’ve heard of that. I’m sure I read about it in that human book,’ Garrus said, turning the metal object over in his hands.
‘Which book?’
‘The Kama Sutra, I think it was called?’ he replied, still looking down at the metal device.
Shepard snorted, drawing his attention back to her face. ‘If the stuff in that books needs a cork screw, then I’ve definitely been doing it all wrong.’
Garrus looked at her quizzically, taking in the brightness of her eyes, and the slight pink of her cheeks. His visor told him her heartrate was elevated, possibly due to alcohol consumption. She gave him a wink, and then something dawned on Garrus. That wasn’t the book he meant. At all.
He quickly returned his attention to the cork screw in his hands, briefly closing his eyes in utter horror. ‘Caramel Sugar,’ he stuttered. ‘The book I meant was “Caramel Sugar and more”. The human recipes one. I … I found it lying around in Liara’s office and she let me read it. I … ’
Shepard cackled a wicked laugh, as Garrus felt his neck heat with embarrassment. ‘I’m more interested in the fact that you know there’s a book called “Kama Sutra”. Been researching human mating rituals, Garrus?’
Garrus decided that he’d rather fight the Saren-reaper-husk thing again than have this conversation.
He had, in fact, seen the Kama Sutra. As an adolescent, a group of his friends downloaded copies from the extranet. They’d all sat around looking at it, trying to figure out how the human female’s waists were flexible enough to allow for such positions. It had been a silly teenage afternoon, but right now he was wishing it had never happened. He would have never ended up in this mortifying situation.
Garrus didn’t know how to answer her, so instead he shook his head. ‘Tell me how to screw with this thing,’ he said, waving the cork screw around in a bid to distract her. Anything to get away from this line of questioning. Especially with her.
Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to have said, because Shepard laughed so hard she ended up wincing and grabbing her side. ‘Don’t make me laugh like that when I’ve just been crushed by a chunk of reaper.’ She must have taken pity on his embarrassment, because she cleared her throat and pointed at the cork screw, and proceeded to talk him through it.
Garrus had to admit there was a certain satisfaction that came with the little pop when the cork came out. He poured some of the wine in her glass, fully expecting her to take the glass and go back to the group, but instead she stood next to him and sipped it, making no move to leave.
She met his gaze and smiled at him, and he was once again astounded by her beauty. He had never found humans particularly attractive, what with their lack of mandibles and no fringe, but he had to admit that she was different. It was almost like she glowed. Well, sometimes she actually did glow, when her biotics crackled around her like lightning. It was a privilege to watch her in battle, but somehow it was even more of a privilege to look at her in a situation as simple and close as this; her beautiful face smiling at him as she took another sip from the wine, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze.
And there were his subvocals chiming in with wonder. Again.
‘I really want to grill you on what you know about the Kama Sutra, but I think it might give you a heart attack,’ she said eventually, a wicked glint in her eye. ‘Most fearsome sniper I’ve ever met, and yet the talk of such things has you blushing. It’s rather endearing.’
Damn, she could tell. He rubbed his hand over his neck self-consciously.
‘I’d rather not die of a heart attack on the same day we defeat Saren. Kind of distorts the triumph,’ he agreed mildly, ignoring the thumping of his heart.
‘Is there a turian version of it though? I feel like I need to see it to balance this dynamic again. You’ve seen how my species do it, I want to know about yours.’
‘I’m sure the extranet has numerous webpages to educate you. Joker could probably point you in the right direction,’ Garrus replied, feeling wary. He could feel the effects of the turian alcohol in his system. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally proposition his commander. And his damn subvocals were confusing his brain with the constant thrums of appreciation and … yes, attraction. That’s what that was.
‘Can humans and turians … you know?’ she asked, staring with fascination at the wine in her glass, avoiding his eye contact. Shepard was certainly not shy, so this was odd behaviour, he had mused later. Had it been simple human curiosity? Or had she had an ulterior motive to ask him such a thing? He wished he knew.
‘I’ve heard that it can be done, with research and caution,’ he answered carefully.
‘Huh,’ was all she said. Looking back, had she been slightly breathy? Or had the alcohol he’d been drinking completely corrupted the accuracy of the memory?
Something had hung in the air between them, and he wished he was brave enough to tell her how he felt. Tell her how a piece of him had shrivelled up and died when he thought she had been killed that day.
And then, after only a second, the moment was gone. Shepard shrugged and seemed to shake herself a little, her face flushed and her eyes slightly wide. ‘Thanks for the drink,’ she said, before making her way back over to the group, who had now begun learning a detailed Asari song performed in rounds.
There had been numerous opportunities for Garrus to tell her how he felt after that, but every time he had chickened out. Sure, Shepard seemed to smile at him more than anyone else, but he probably only thought that because her smile was so special to him. No one else thought twice about her smile, but he did. It was one of the most addictive things in the universe for him, seeing her happy, so he made note whenever one was directed at him.
After the immediate dust from Sovereign’s attack had settled, she had encouraged him to return to the Citadel to begin spectre training.
‘There’s no one better suited to being a spectre,’ she had said to him. ‘You’ve got that whole spectre vibe going on.’
‘Are you calling me dark, dangerous and deadly?’ he had answered, with a twitch of his mandibles.
‘Are you calling me, Spectre Shepard, dark, dangerous and deadly?’ she replied, cocking her head to one side as she looked at him with a look that would have others shrivelling in their boots but he knew her well enough to know it was teasing.
‘Yes,’ he had answered simply, and she had chuckled. ‘I thought you knew that you were.’
‘It’s my morning mantra in the mirror. “Jane, you’re dark, deadly and dangerous. You kick ass. Oh, and you’re the universe’s hottest spectre ever.”’
He hadn’t quite known how to respond to that without giving away that he genuinely did think she was “hot”. Weird that humans use a temperature-related term to discuss attraction. Turians always felt the cold, and their bodies ran far warmer than humans, so it would be completely bizarre to describe one as “hot”.
Shepard, on the other hand, was the physical embodiment of a fireball. In so many ways.
And, he figured, being around her always left him feeling extra warm. So maybe a temperature-related term wasn’t so strange, after all.
‘You forgot to also add “slayer of thresher maws and reapers” to that mantra,’ he had said, quite pleased with how he had dodged acknowledging that he thought she was hot.
‘I’ll be sure to add that tomorrow,’ Shepard had replied with a little wink that ignited his subvocals into a rumble of want that he tried to ignore. Obviously oblivious to his rumblings, she continued, ‘And stop trying to distract me. I think you should take up the spectre training offer.’
‘I need to stay with you and prepare for the reapers,’ he had said stubbornly. He couldn’t voice that he couldn’t imagine working with anyone else. That he liked being around her more than anyone else.
‘With spectre training and resources, you’d be way better equipped than I could ever manage,’ she had replied. There had been a ghost of something in her voice, and he wondered now if maybe she couldn’t imagine not working with him either. ‘This is too much of an opportunity for you to pass up.’
What he would’ve given to be able to understand the subtext behind her words in that moment. Humans may not have had subvocals, but they were adept at hiding their true thoughts and feelings behind the words they carefully chose. He wished he could hear what she wasn’t saying. It was a difficult difference from interacting with turians.
He also couldn’t argue with her logic. ‘I could achieve spectre status and then return to the Normandy,’ he mused. He needed to be useful in the future reaper invasion, and maybe this was the best way, even if he didn’t want to leave her side. He felt such an internal conflict; there would be no him, no Shepard, if the reapers won. No more. Maybe he had to go and do this to make sure there would be time for more. One day.
She had nodded, and he was sure her eyes looked a little sad. Perhaps she would miss him.
Tell her.
Shepard opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. She paused before saying, ‘Don’t get me wrong, it’ll suck to not work with you for a while. Who am I going to bitch to when the council inevitably piss me off again? Or when Wrex is having a temper tantrum because someone ate the last of his varren meat?’
Tell her.
But then, the thought of Kaidan popped into his mind. About how he had told Garrus how embarrassed he was after asking Shepard if she’d like to get a drink with him sometime, and she had shot him down immediately.
That would ruin everything.
If she hadn’t wanted Kaidan, who seemed to Garrus like a perfectly acceptable human male, then she wouldn’t want an awkward turian.
‘You can always email your bitchings and tantrums,’ he had said, instead of what he really wanted to. ‘We can set up a dedicated thread just for your rants.’
A glimmer of a smile appeared on her face, but that look remained in her eyes. He wished he knew what it meant.
So, he had kept his mouth shut. It had seemed wiser, at the time. But now, as he lay in his bed on the Citadel, wide awake, he wondered if he should have said something. How would things have been now? If she had reciprocated? If she hadn’t?
There was an unsettled feeling deep in his stomach that he couldn’t explain. He realised that was why he hadn’t been able to sleep. Something felt wrong.
He tapped on the most recent part of their email thread to try and distract himself; Shepard had been true to her word, and they emailed at least once a day, but he hadn’t heard from her in over thirty hours, which was unusual.
_______________________________________________________________________________
From: Commander J. Shepard
To: G. Vakarian
Subject: RE: Bitchings and tantrums
How’s training been today?
We’re being sent off to look for three ships that have gone missing, suspected geth involvement. Everything seems to have geth involvement at the moment.
There’s a bit of time before we get to the co-ordinates, so it was either sit down and email you, or go see what Tali has taken apart now. Last time, it was my alarm clock, and now it goes off randomly, no matter what I program the alarm to. Tali is so good with these things, so I think it was on purpose because I keep teasing her about her Fleet & Flotilla obsession.
If it does it again when I’m asleep though, I’m going to throw it out the airlock.
I’m going to come back to the Citadel soon; officially, it’s because I need a new scope for one of my rifles, but really it’s to check in on my favourite turian. Maybe we can go to the shooting range, just you and me? I want to talk properly.
Keep up the hard work, I’ve heard great things about your training so far. Can’t wait for you to be the second-best spectre after it’s done.
- Shep
________________________________________________________________________________
From: G. Vakarian
To: Commander J. Shepard
Subject: RE: Bitchings and tantrums
Training is the same as it has been. Exhausting but rewarding. Doing better than all the other recruits because none of them have followed a crazy spectre called Shepard round the galaxy. Losers.
I think spacing an alarm clock is perfectly acceptable. Have a little funeral for it before you press the airlock button though – you’re not a savage.
Second-best spectre after Bau, right? I’ve heard good things about him. Don’t worry, you’ll be a solid third-best.
Shooting range and talking sounds good to me. Just tell me when and where.
It’ll be nice to see you.
- G
__________________________________________________________________________________
Garrus stared at his unanswered email. She’d never gone this long without replying, but she was probably caught up in some long mission or something.
He tried hard to convince himself that everything was okay, but the unnerving feeling was continuing to unfurl in his stomach. It was like a blanket of foreboding was closing around him. Something wasn’t right. His subvocals burst into a rumble of panic, and his honed survival instincts had him sitting bolt upright. His heart rate quickened. Something was really wrong. He just didn’t know what. Fear weaved its way around his throat, knotting itself into a perpetually tightening scarf.
‘Jane.’
Her name burst from his lips without him even thinking it.
Seconds later, his omni-tool lit up and began to alert him. He had set up a notification system that would notify him whenever the Normandy or Shepard were mentioned on the extranet. He’d usually get one or two notifications a day, but this was different. This was continuous.
Notifications were pouring in, hundreds at a time. All of them said the same thing.
Ice cold horror flowed through his veins.
His omni-tool continued to buzz, and then Tali’s name flashed up as an incoming call.
Garrus answered it immediately. ‘Tali, please don’t say it.’
He could see her face. Even through her purple shield, and through the hologram, he could tell she was as stunned as he was. ‘Garrus …’
‘Don’t say it,’ he growled. Grief, horror, panic - he couldn’t tell the difference between his subvocal rumbles.
‘We were … the Normandy … something big attacked us. It destroyed the ship.’ Even through her suit, he could hear the grief in her voice. ‘She … Shepard … Joker was still at the helm. She had to save him. She went back for him.’
Garrus closed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening.
‘She ejected his escape pod so he would survive. I … Liara and I saw the ship explode. Garrus … she’s …’
‘I can’t. You can’t say it,’ he said, more raw emotion in his dual-toned voice than a turian was normally capable of. ‘Please. Tell me it’s not true.’
‘We saw it. There was nothing we could do. We tried.’ Tali’s voice broke as she began to cry.
‘This isn’t right,’ he said, more to himself than to Tali. ‘This isn’t real.’
‘I know how much she means to you, to all of us,’ Tali said, snuffling a little as she spoke. ‘I saw how you looked at her, I think she felt-’
‘You don’t get to tell me how she felt,’ he snapped, before immediately feeling guilty. ‘I’m sorry, Tali. I just … I don’t…’
‘I know,’ she replied, her voice hollow. ‘We’re on our way to the Citadel. We’ll see you soon. Be safe until then.’
Garrus nodded numbly and disconnected the call. The omni-tool continued to buzz against his skin with the notifications coming in. News sites, social media sites, official Citadel communications he had hacked. All of them saying the same thing.
Human spectre dead.
Who killed Commander Shepard?
Spectre killed in action. Unable to retrieve body.
Press here to sign our interactive memorial book for Commander Shepard.
Is it true about Commander Shepard? Is she really dead?
Shepard dead.
Garrus ripped the omni-tool from his arm and threw it across the room. He paced up and down, hands on his fringe, as he tried to process the multitude of emotions that were battling inside of him. Without thinking, he pulled his armour on, his body acting on auto-pilot.
If he hadn’t left her … if he had been on the Normandy, he would have made sure she got out. He would have died before letting her go.
Guilt exploded through him, the feeling akin to being shot by a red-hot bullet. He never should have left.
Spirits.
He barely noticed the knock at the door. It opened. Anderson was there, looking at him with a tired face and haunted eyes which mirrored his own grief. He knew Shepard and Anderson were practically like father and daughter, and the pain in Anderson’s face only proved that further.
‘Vakarian,’ he started. Garrus stopped pacing to look at him. ‘I … I assume you’ve heard.’
Garrus looked to the ceiling tiles that he had been staring up at and reminiscing not long before.
‘I’ve heard,’ he answered, trying desperately to make his voice calm and measured.
‘I’m launching an immediate investigation into what happened. When you’ve achieved spectre status, I will let you be the one to take these bastards down.’
Garrus stared at him like he had grown another head. ‘I’m not going to be a spectre now,’ he said eventually, as if it were obvious.
It was Anderson’s turn to stare. ‘Shepard would want you to-’
‘If I hadn’t listened to what she wanted, I would have been there! I would have saved her!’
Anderson couldn’t sense the furious rumblings of his subvocals, but he stepped back a little anyway at the ferocity of Garrus’ tone.
‘It was a devastating attack, Vakarian. There’s no guarantee you would have been able to change things,’ Anderson replied, his hands held up in a human gesture meant to placate him.
How could he be placated when this had happened? Garrus looked at him wildly, his chests plates heaving as he tried to suck in a breath, but the room was suffocating him with the weight of what had happened.
Anderson carefully stepped closer to Garrus, and put a hand cautiously on his shoulder. He guessed it was a human way of showing sympathy, but all it did was remind him of the first time he thought Shepard had died and Anderson had arrived. That time, she had appeared from the rubble. She hadn’t been dead.
‘I’m changing things now. Consider this my resignation from spectre training. Pass it on to the relevant individuals.’ Garrus shrugged Anderson’s hand from his shoulder, and headed for the door.
Shepard was dead. Everything had changed. He was done with following orders. Shit needed sorting right now, and she would want him to be the one to sort it.
After her funeral, and when they began dragging her name through the mud, and the council began ignoring him, Garrus realised he couldn’t continue on her mission like this. He had to leave the Citadel.
And so, the turian, Garrus Vakarian, was replaced by the mercenary Archangel. It made sense, when Shepard’s death had also kind of been the death of Garrus. He couldn’t be the same after that, couldn’t exist as the turian who had been in love with his commander. It was easier to bury that turian, and become someone new.