INTERMISSION: ARCHANGEL- 40 Days

Twenty days on Omega, and somehow he ended up spending most of his time at a shithole bar, not knowing what to do with himself.

In a sick twist of fate, the day after he got on the station the old Normandy crew sent him 1,000 credits. Apparently, word of Kaidan and Liara got out, Shepard won the dating pool, and they thought it best to send her winnings to him. They probably thought it was a funny way of remembering her.

Garrus just found it an easy way to accomplish nothing, knowing his bank account was padded with his dead friend's winnings.

It was his fifth night in a row at Afterlife. He didn't know what he was doing here anymore. If he just wanted to sulk it out and then head back to Palaven or the Citadel, he should've left by now. Or if he planned on staying, he should've found some crusade to get his dumb ass distracted. But he wasn't building anything here, he was just drinking and wasting away in limbo.

Finishing his glass for the night, he didn't mind drinking alone very much. And as long as he kept it to one drink, he didn't start imagining her across the table. It was just enough booze to slosh away some of the emptiness, but not enough to start losing his mind. Wasn't the worst way to kill time.

But then an eager-looking Turian slid in the chair across from him and he hated that.

Okay, drinking alone was fine, minus the persistent grifters. Dude started talking before Garrus could tell him to fuck off. "Don't see ex-turian military around here often, not without a shiny new merc job or some secrets to keep."

"I don't give a shit about whatever you're selling, so--"

"Not even a little bit, Garrus Vakarian?" He stopped trying to stand and sat back down, glaring at the guy. He didn't like where this was going. The mysterious Turian just smirked. "I see I got your attention."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Back-up. I might've gotten myself a one on one with a Krogan captain for the Blood Pack in ten minutes, and I don't feel like having my mandibles ripped off."

Garrus was trying to wrap his head around it all. His new taste for ryncol wasn't doing well for his brain. "One, why the hell would you do that? And two, why do you know who I am?"

"I'd love to say weeks of intel, but really? I've seen you a couple times here. Took me a little while to realize you're the one from the Battle of the Citadel vids, who helped take down Saren. Could use some heroism on my side."

"Okay, but you still didn't answer question one."

"I'm not a huge fan of the merc groups, period, but this Krogan's been trying to expand his territory into my old neighborhood. If my favorite restaurant has to start paying dues, we're gonna have a problem."

"With that dumb answer, I guess we're back to augmenting the second question. Why me? You could hire decent shots all over this station."

The guy was trying to seem casual, but Garrus could see the way his feet kept bouncing. All his fake confidence was relying on lies and adrenaline. Regardless of the underlying tells, the Turian said, "Well, let's just say I'm a bit strapped for cash, so I was hoping you might do it for free. Also, I always prefer more than just a decent shot."

Laughing, Garrus was a little impressed with the quads on him. At the very least, the exchange was getting more amusing than annoying. "And what makes you think I'll help you?"

"A Turian quitting their civil service position to chase down an unconfirmed rogue, Turian Spectre? That's a hero type. And hero types can't resists offers like mine."

That's when all the talk he was spinning stopped amusing Garrus. He leaned back forward onto the table, trying to keep the pop-up thoughts about green eyes and target practice out of his mind. "Yeah, well that's who I used to be."

Finally, the Turian switched tactics. The veiled swagger fell and his shoulders slumped. He leaned closer to Garrus and went for the ole' classic: begging. "Just this once, okay? And after I'll leave you alone."

He was really itching to say no, but something in the back of his head was curious how much trouble one Krogan really could be. He'd definitely taken down scarier things in his time. And what better was he doing?

The hell with it. Maybe this could be his litmus test, break whatever funk he was in. If he felt good helping someone, great, he could use that. Make something of it. If not? Get his ass off this station, because it clearly wasn't doing much for him. Even if Omega treated Shepard's name like a hex, his brain dragged too much of her around. No matter Sol's intel, there was one big problem with trying to run from her ghost: him.

Pushing off the table, he gave the guy a shrug. "Fine. Now, where the hell are we going?"

His new Turian friend probably didn't mean to, but his face lit up and he nearly tripped over himself standing. He did a decent job pretending it didn't happen, though. Straightening himself, he nodded towards the far exit. "Out there and a few alleys back." Garrus nodded and followed him.

Once they were outside, though, he took a stop at a vending machine and grabbed some water. The second it dropped down, he popped the cap open and started chugging. His companion looked slightly horrified, saying, "Why are you inhaling that water bottle like it's oxygen?"

As the last drops fell, he threw away the bottle. "I was drinking ryncol." It was 100% placebo, but that alone made him start feeling a little better. Or maybe it was just the blood pumping from knowing he might get to pull out his sniper in a few minutes.

He hadn't done any target practice in weeks.

Though he started walking again, the Turian gaped. "Why?" But as Garrus started walking faster, wanting to get somewhere, accomplish something, it was like the guy could smell his boiling blood. "Spirits, are you gonna get me killed?"

Garrus laughed at the thought. "If Shepard didn't kill me, neither will a Blood Pack krogan."

"Do you mean Saren?"

"No."

They walked down the next few blocks, and nothing seemed more illegal or sketchy than the rest of Omega was. They even got to pass a raving Batarian prophet, and that still didn't feel all that insane. He'd really gotten used to Omega, hadn't he?

All of a sudden, his walking buddy stopped in a slightly dimmer alley, where a few lights were out and no one was waiting for them. Garrus was hoping that he was just lost or looking for the right door to give a password, but the longer the other Turian itched at his face, Garrus realized things were probably going to get complicated.

Garrus gave the guy the benefit of the doubt. "Is this the right place?"

"Yeah, I was supposed to meet him right here... five minutes ago."

Before Garrus could say anything about it obviously being a set-up, and that the Krogan probably just wanted him dead, he could hear a weapon gearing up. Shoving the new guy down to the ground, he pulled out his sniper. While this wasn't exactly the best way to get back in the fight, he had to admit it felt damn good to hold in his hands again.

"Why didn't you think this was a set-up?"

"Let's just say being on the "good guy" side of this is new to me."

"Great, I always dreamed of a back alley firefight with an ex-merc." Glancing over their cover, he could clearly see three Vorcha at the other end of the alley, probably two or three more he couldn't see. They always traveled in fairly large numbers, even for a small hit.

Next to him, the other Turian asked, "Really?" Though he clearly whiffed the safety protocols of this meeting, he pulled out an SMG and was doing good work suppressing the Vorcha. Garrus had to give him that much credit.

But that didn't excuse his question, and he rolled his eyes. "No, this is hardly my favorite place to get murdered."

"What, do you have places you'd prefer?"

"For practicality? Gun expo or military base. For style? Gardens, electronics stores, antique shops, but only if they're classy."

Even though he seemed caught off guard and a little stressed, the guy laughed. "You're insane."

"What else did you expect? A healthily functioning ex-Spectre hunter?"

"You got me there." They downed one of the Vorcha, and another was at least down for the count because Garrus got a good shot straight through his leg, but the other three that they'd seen were still putting up a fight. His shooting buddy said, "On your left." Garrus swiveled and got a headshot on one of them while he was trying to get in for a closer shot.

Then the guy asked, gesturing to the gun, "Do you bring a sniper everywhere?"

"Yeah. This is my favorite gun." Garrus got another Blood Pack goon when it popped its head out to check for them. But just as he was going to tell the other Turian to close in on him, the final Vorcha came out from behind the corner, holding his shotgun to the head of a civilian. From the looks of him, a shell-shocked shopper. Lowering his gun, Garrus said, "Fuck."

"Drop your weapons or I kill him."

The other Turian stood up without even thinking about it, letting his SMG clatter to the ground. Garrus was looking between the two, trying to calculate what made the most sense. But seeing someone scared, he started wondering what Shepard would do.

The bigger surprise was that for the first time in over a month, thinking of her didn't hurt so bad. Before he could get lost in the feeling, his shooting partner toed him. "Vakarian, drop the gun."

He growled, still not quite sure how to handle the situation, but listened, his sniper falling to his feet.

"Good, now--"

After taking even a second to look at the Vorcha, he realized none of them had a chance if they let him call the shots. He remembered the Blood Pack members he'd fought while on the Normandy; prisoners weren't their speciality. Taking a page from Shepard's book, he pulled out his pistol, used his visor for quick aiming, and shot. The Vorcha dropped, leaving a mortified hostage standing in front of his corpse. Garrus told him, "Get out of here."

Guy didn't have to be told twice.

As he picked his sniper back up, the Turian asked, "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"The most terrifying woman with a pistol in the entire Galaxy." Lucky for Garrus, the guy let him leave it at that.

They walked up to the last Vorcha left, his leg bleeding. "You tell your boss that he better watch his ass around the wards, or he'll be dealing with us." For a second, the Vorcha just stared at them, but then Garrus added, "Go!" And the Vorcha didn't need to be told twice, either.

It wasn't Geth ships and Reapers, but for a minute there, he felt like himself again. The person he was with her. Sure, that still fucking stung, but it didn't feel empty. It was the first thing that didn't feel empty in a long time.

Next to him, the turian chuckled. "That was pretty forward, assuming I want to team up with your crazy ass again."

"Says the man who begged me to help him." Holstering both of his weapons, he was ready to walk back onto the streets. They didn't need to fight everyone on Omega tonight. But walking side by side with this Turian, his wheels started turning. He didn't want to lose this feeling. This was the closest he'd felt to her, to himself, since before the Normandy's destruction ripped all that away from him. He tried to act casual, but he knew what he was offering wasn't casual. It was fucking life or death. But maybe that's what made it feel right, like what he should be doing. Garrus asked, "What if this wasn't a one-time thing?"

They walked out of the alley, and his new friend seemed to think it was a joke, his adrenaline-boosted shoulders still shaking a little. "What, asking me on a date here?"

"I'm serious. You were right, the mercs run these people into the ground. Let's do something about it." The Turian stopped dead, next to him. Maybe Garrus was reaching, and maybe this was crazy, but... "I'm game if you are."

"Serious?"

"Serious."

He couldn't really make out his face, if he thought Garrus was talking out of his ass. And he didn't really look too sure of himself when he finally looked at the sniper, but he started to smile. There was a fire there in his eyes that Garrus could see growing. "Alright, I'm game, too."

"Good." Just as they started walking again, Garrus found himself in a situation so untactful that it was almost Shepard-like. Maybe that was a good sign. Scratching his head, he asked, like an idiot, "Since I just agreed to risk my ass with you, what's your name, anyway?"

The guy extended his hand and Garrus shook it. And when he did, it felt good, like he was finally doing something with his life again. Maybe things were starting to look up for him, even without Shepard. He already got one guy to join his own, reckless crusade. The Turian finished off with, "I'm an ex-informant for the Blue Suns. Name's Lantar Sidonis."

///