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Garrus knows he’s lucky, to not have that many regrets as the world is coming to an end.
Once he’d gotten back to Palaven he’d said goodbye to his mother, spoken to his father again. Sol had even cracked a joke at him the other day. He’d even contributed to turian society, him of all people. When the Reapers hit Palaven far sooner than expected everyone said that it wasn’t for him they would not have been half as prepared. Garrus wanted to scoff at the idea. He’d made as much noise as he could, moved what contacts he had but it was always Shepard who’d been screaming at the top of her lungs for the galaxy to listen.
He hadn’t even done anything while she lay two years dead.
Now of course, with the Bahak system destroyed and the Batarians calling for her blood people were listening. It was probably only long enough to call her a madwoman, a war criminal, a lunatic raving about boogeymen, but the Alliance couldn’t keep it quiet anymore. That was a start.
“Maybe now they’ll pay attention,” she said as they sat in the dark in her cabin, hours after she’d been lifted from that damned asteroid.
Right then, with his hand on her back and both of them in their undersuits she was quiet, ashen, eyes unfocused and haunted by a million souls left to die. Only minutes earlier, still at the bridge she’d been thunderous, eyes blazing, tense as a coiled spring. With every hail to the surrounding colonies that went unanswered, with every second ticking away from the countdown she seemed to grow more and more still. It had made his blood freeze in his veins, even before he’d known that they were about to lose an entire system to this crisis.
Days later, after the decision had been made, she was neither. A strange calm seem to have come over the Commander, and Garrus couldn’t help glancing at her every few seconds as they walked across the small space station to where he would take his shuttle to Palaven.
There was no point in saying anything anymore, they’d been over this countless times. She had to face the Alliance, regain credibility, make use of her voice where it would be heard. She couldn’t do that as a Cerberus fugitive, and neither could he.
When they reached his shuttle he pointlessly checked the one bag he carried, and then the time even though he’d been counting the seconds ever since they descended from the Normandy. In her cabin there had been promises to see each other again, well-wishes, jokes, even a few tender whispers exchanged. Out here there were no more words.
He took one hesitant step towards her.
“Goodbye, Garrus.” Shepard said, clasping his shoulder and smiling that tight smile she did when she was trying to hide a wound. He knew that about her now, along with a great many other things. Human faces could still be a mystery, but hers? Hers was his to read.
Don’t leave me behind.
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to be alone again.
The words stuck in his throat and all he could do was grasp her shoulder as firmly, nod, try to let his gaze show nothing but confidence. Shepard nodded back and turned like she was about to leave, but at the last moment she whirled back towards him and kissed him so swiftly that it might not have happened at all. Garrus refused to look as she disappeared down the corridor and the shuttle doors closed with a resounding thud. There was nothing but the ghost of a feeling of her lips on his.
The feeling is still with him even now as he steps out of a different shuttle and onto the cold surface of Menae. Behind him, Palaven burns. Shepard lies somewhere beyond, somewhere ahead for him, he hopes. They have to meet up again, team up against the Reapers, pool resources. He has to-
There are so many things he should have said.