Right Behind You.

"Looks like it," which was probably why he was less-than-enthusiastically booking her to a temporary C-Sec holding cell.

"You don't know that." It would've been easy to answer with a 'you've said that before,' but no doubt dying in the void of space was a sore spot for them both. Garrus fidgeted with the stock of his rifle, one he'd already loaded out without permission for a drop he hadn't been authorized for.

But Garrus Vakarian seemed to stop listening to orders so well once Shepard's life was on the line. It didn't matter if he'd only barely recovered from what happened on Omega.

It was unbecoming and improper of her, but Six rolled her eyes and shook her head at his concession. Her pride was tender now, and her need to get work done had her wanting to see this through until the end. Maybe also part of her was petty and very excited to say I told you so. She could apologize to him later, when everyone was okay and the attack was stopped. He could make it up to her some how if they didn’t decide to end the arrangement once all was said and done.

“Come on.”

She focused instead to dash back to the car and turn it on once more – time to rush, though she’d wait until Garrus was safely inside before peeling off. This would be faster, and she wasn’t sure about how much time they had left.

The answer was none, as a call came in through Garrus’ visor. It sounded like an all out siege.

Garrus was usually good at playing it cool when he had to-- he was trying as hard as he could now to not panic. But Six could see the way he leaned forward in his seat, a hand on his earpiece and his body already angled to spring. His mandibles fluttered as he tried to shout back orders to fall back to an escape route. 

We’re getting slaughtered, Garrus. 

“Hold on-- just hold on as long as you can. I’ll clear a path, I’ll pull them out--” the line went dead. His talon was closing around the stock of his rifle hard enough to nearly bend metal. He spared Six a look both grateful and terrified as she pulled up, but didn’t wait for the skycar to park before he was springing out of it. 

Up in the warehouse Archangel had taken in he could hear screaming, and the peppering of gunfire. There was no time for a better plan if he wanted even one of his men to live. 

Garrus was already shooting. He ducked behind close cover a moment later and took another shot to knock a Blue Sun helmet right off the balcony. 

                    WHETHER SPOCK’S PRESENCE is warranted or appreciated beyond the mere knowledge of their existence at one end of the quadrant is irrelevant of his goals. What he does here, what Spock desires to do, is solitary, ambitious in one—or many—perspectives. Bold. Or more likely, illogical. Nonetheless, those he has already encountered since his arrival at the Citadel have been curious at best—staring and wondrous, inquiring after Spock’s blanket appearance—or generally indifferent, rude, if he could be bothered with that of public opinion, at worst. The contrast now, is that his current company, Garrus Vakarian he learns, has been thus far sufficient. Inoffensively ignorant or uncaring of Spock’s agenda but acceptably congenial. It is a welcome change. 

“Spock cha’Sarek,” son of Vulcan’s true ambassador, a diplomat, a politician, where Spock himself is surely anything but, “And you are correct to presume this to be my first venture to the Citadel.” A corner of Spock’s mouth lifts, his eyes clever, betraying nothing else, “Not a particularly entertaining endeavor, unfortunately. Though, it is my hope this assignment is not entirely uneventful for you, Garrus Vakarian.”

“It could be worse-- I did just get off of a week of traffic duty, so my bar for ‘entertaining’ is starting off pretty low.” 

A little too casual. Did Vulcans tend to not have a sense of humor, or was that a stereotype? Hard to tell with them as far out as they were. Either way, Garrus’ mandibles pressed a little too tight into his cheeks and he shifted weight from one foot to the other. “Regardless, I’m here for acclimation and protection first and foremost.”

Shepard laughed. There were plenty of bars they could go to, but finding the perfect turian drink was the toughest challenge. They had those strict diets, unlike humans. Then again, he supposed turians might think humans had strict diets, too, or at least limitations to what they could digest and comfortably handle. 

“That line’s pretty small, Garrus, I can tell you that right now.” At least, that’s what Johnathon thought. He’d had a few reporters flirt with him, but that was about it. Most of his crew were pretty good with not stepping out of line. Maybe not Ashley, but… well… she was no longer with them anymore. 

“I’ll hold you to that, Vakarian. Maybe when you’re not so busy with your er… calibrations, I’m assuming?” 

“You would say that.” 

Garrus at least seemed to get his groove back for long enough to broadly gesture at his terminal and tilt his head. It was as much a confirmation as he could give, but between frequently adjusting mission parameters and his obsessive algorithm testing Garrus could attribute most of his day to calibrations.

The last look he fixed Shepard with was a little gentler, a little inquisitive-- appraising, maybe. “You’re my CO, Shepard. You tell me you want to wine and dine me, I’ll take the leave. So, uh... yeah.”

The recollection was something that made Shepard smile faintly. Something he could share with her, a collective moment of remembering her. The Commander wished she could have met him, but life and the world would never be so kind. Here and now she could only do what she hoped Garrus’ mother would approve of. She held him back just as fiercely.

She sounded like an incredible mother and soldier. No doubt in Shepard’s mind she would have been proud of her son. No doubt in her mind that she was. A hand came up to brush gently across faded scars, mottled and angry, but less so.

“There’s a lot going on.” Shepard pointed out gently, “You can’t help that, Garrus. If you need some time away to breathe sometimes, you can take that. It’s important you come up for air too, Big Guy. You’re not bad for focusing on survival. It’s all most of us can do these days.”

Garrus gave a little hum; it might’ve been a small but good-natured laugh at her assurance. “I should’ve known that one was gonna be used against me eventually, huh.” 

His eyelids lowered in a tired, relaxed sort of smile. They’d both been through too much-- it was only a matter of time before the exhaustion caught up to their mad dash to the finish. His cheek pressed into hers. “Thanks, Shep.”