#skogrr

He almost put up a fight about it, but then Joker chimed in with a message from the Council, and the weary sag to Shepard’s shoulders told him he’d better let it go. She has enough conflicting priorities between the Council and her own military, he doesn’t need to add friendship as a third.

So it’s back to bureaucratic crap and red tape. He’s not even off the docks yet, and already he has a bad taste in his mouth about it, especially now that he’s had a glimpse of more.

As the elevator descends, Garrus blocks out the newscast. They’ve already scrubbed any reference to Reapers from the media, from Avina, even from internal C-SEC communications. It’s like Sovereign never happened. He’d almost prefer the music. He adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder and pretends not to hear the phrase rogue geth attack.

The elevator opens, and Shepard’s standing there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised high enough to disappear into blonde fringe, as if she was waiting for him.

“You were really gonna leave without saying goodbye?” She shoves off the wall and falls into step beside him.

He hadn’t planned on it. But before his first shift back starts in eight hours, he needs to check on the status of his apartment (and the refrigerator) and do some laundry. And Pallin’s annoyed enough with him for running off with Shepard in the first place, he really shouldn’t be late. “You were busy,” he says instead of telling her the rest. It sounds pathetic to his ears, and he hopes she can’t hear it in his subvocals.

Shepard takes a half-step into his personal space and bumps her shoulder against his. “It’s all bullshit,” she says.

Garrus knows she isn’t talking about him, but a crowded walkway on the Citadel isn’t the right place to commiserate about classified orders, so he doesn’t say anything. They walk the rest of the way to the transit station in silence.

They step aside, out of the way of the line of people, and Shepard holds out her hand.

Garrus takes her hand in his and squeezes gently. She smiles, the first time he’s seen her really smile in a few days. It lights up something inside of him at the same time as it clenches at his heart – he’s used to seeing that smile every day, and now he won’t, possibly ever again.

(It’s not her smile he’ll miss, he tells himself. It’s working with her, doing something important.)

“I’m gonna get you back on the ship,” she says, clasping both her hands around his, “I promise.”

The automatic announcer mumbles over loudspeaker that his train is arriving, so Garrus reluctantly withdraws his hand. He smiles at her. “I know,” he says, gently squeezing her shoulder as he passes her and heads into the station.

***

(goodbye two)

He counts down.

Omega (Zaeed, Jack, Tali, Legion).

Illium (Kasumi, Samara, Jacob, Thane).

Tuchanka (Grunt).

The Citadel (Mordin, Miranda).

He’s the only one left on the ship now. Joker’s still here, as is Dr. Chakwas, but the Cerberus crew and the rest of the ground team have all left. Shepard’s dragging out her return to Vancouver as long as she can, and he’s dragging out his time by her side as long as he can, but they both know that, even as an N7, there are some limits she shouldn’t push.

When Shepard slips into bed beside him, three nights after they scrubbed the last Cerberus logo from the last cabinet, there’s tension thrumming tight through her entire body: she’s rapidly coming up on those limits, pushing them near to the point of breaking, and he’ll need to leave in the morning. He doesn’t say anything, just lifts the covers and lets her slide in close.

She kisses him, softly at first and then urgently, curling her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. A quiet rumble rolls through his chest and he settles above her, kissing her in return. His talons tease at the edge of her shirt, sliding the fabric up so he can feel her soft skin. Shepard breaks the kiss just long enough to sit up halfway and pull her shirt off; he takes it from her and tosses it aside.

A grin quirks at her lips and she kisses him again, and any thoughts of limits or leaving or Reapers fly from his mind, replaced with thoughts only of undressing her and how good she feels underneath him.

Later, she lies with her head on his chest, drawing her fingertips over his hide in tiny designs. He cards his talons through her long hair, committing every moment to memory.

“We’ll find a way to stop them,” she says.

Neither one of them are under the delusion that what she did at Aratoht actually stopped the Reapers. She bought them time, and she’s going to pay dearly for it, but it’s time they desperately need.

“I know,” he says, hugging her a little tighter.

This time, she walks with him down the gangway, her fingers tangled with his talons. Silently, she kisses him at the end of the security line, where their paths will part.

Garrus bumps his forehead against hers and takes a quiet breath. “Good luck,” he says.

Shepard smiles. “You too.” She squeezes his hand and steps back, fading into the crowd as the line grows behind him.

***

(goodbye three)

“Shepard, I…” his voice cracks, and Garrus isn’t sure if it’s exertion, the harsh air, pain, or emotion. A nasty mix of all four, certainly. “I love you.”

She smiles at him and, for a brief second, they aren’t in the middle of a war zone. They aren’t within throwing distance of a Reaper destroyer, neither one of them are bleeding, and he isn’t being held up by Tali and James. For that brief second, time stands still and it’s only the two of them. Only Shepard and Vakarian.

Shepard brushes her thumb across his markings. “I know,” she whispers.

And just like that, the second ends. A siren blasts and something explodes nearby.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” she promises. “Now go!” she orders, stepping off the ramp. “Get out of here!”

“Shepard,” he whispers, reaching for her even after she’s gone, even after the ramp starts to rise. He’s bleeding and everything hurts, but still he makes Tali and James stop, forces himself to watch as the ramp closes, staring out at the shrinking view as if he could find her again.

He can’t.

***

(and one time they said hello)

“Man, you’re driving me crazy,” Vega says, on Garrus’ tenth trip up and down the cargo bay.

Garrus stops and stands still for a moment. “Sorry,” he says, not really apologetic at all. Pacing won’t make the Normandy fly any faster, but it gives him something to do. He hasn’t had anything to do for a month.

Not that pacing really qualifies as something to do, but it’s better than sitting down and fidgeting. He’s spent a month sitting down and fidgeting.

“Approaching Luna,” Joker’s voice comes over the comm. “Prepare for landing in ten minutes.”

As ten minutes count down, more and more of the crew filter in. By the time Joker announces that they’re entering Earth atmosphere, the rest of the crew have joined Garrus and James. Joker’s the only one who isn’t here, but someone has to fly the ship.

Three years ago, he’d be trying to tell himself that he’s just itchy to get off the ship. That he likes the Normandy, but being stuck on her is another story, and he just wants to breathe different air.

But now, he can admit to himself that he’s anxious to see Shepard. They’ve spoken in the month that’s passed, since she said goodbye to him at the beam. There hasn’t been a night in the three weeks since making contact with Earth that he’s fallen asleep without talking to her, without seeing her smile. He can’t wait to hug her, wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

The Normandy shudders as Joker sets her down and the docking clamps lock on. A collective sigh of relief rolls through the crew, Garrus included.

He towers over most of the crew, and so he sees her first as the door lowers. Half a head taller than the rest of the crowd. Shock of bright blonde hair. Smiling wide. The door clangs quietly against the dock, and she bites her lip as the crew starts to pour out.

He steps off the ship and takes his first breath of real air in a month. The London air still tastes faintly of ash, the sun filters hazy through a thin cloud of smoke and dust, and Shepard’s waiting for him at the base of the ramp.

Her blue eyes light up as she reaches out and clasps his hand. “Hi,” she says softly, voice soft and quiet, but clear even over the cheers of onlookers and reunions of crew with their friends and family.

Garrus tugs her a little bit forward, wrapping his arms tight around her. Her arms settle around him and she rests her forehead against his shoulder. He turns and brushes a kiss to her temple. The world disappears again, the crowd and the ash and the joy, and it’s only them - and this time, Garrus knows it won’t have to end.