#can you imagine how anxious garrus must have been?

[serendipitys-teapot]

Normandy crew after Shepard disappears alone to help Aria retake Omega, vividly remembering what happened the last time she disappeared alone:

"Surely she won't blow up another star system this time... right?"

[kfawkes]

Reunions

'He was ruthless'… 'Idealistic'… 'Trying to make a difference'…

The more she thought about this ‘Archangel’, the more he started to sound a lot like her old friend. Could it actually be Garrus here on Omega? The Illusive Man did say that he disappeared and was completely untraceable. Which could mean a few different things… It wouldn't be the most ridiculous thing if he was there on Omega living the dream of a vigilante would it? Thinking that it could be him everyone had been so unsuccessfully trying to kill both made her hopeful and scared. If Garrus was this Archangel, it seems he wasn't doing that well… He could even be dead before they reached him with everything that’s going on. If this Archangel was Garrus, then that would mean he had given up. It would mean that he gave into his compulsions, regardless of the direction he was steering it. If this was really Garrus, would she even be met with the same man?

It had been two years for him… Would he even still… want her? Miss her? Follow her into hell?

As nice as it was to imagine, she couldn't let herself get her hopes up. Even given all of the similarities between Archangel and Garrus, what were the chances of it actually being him? Turian was a very common race. Many people use snipers… Or want to change the world. She tried to push the feeling of hope that grew in her stomach away. Shepard couldn't deal with the disappointment of Archangel not being who she wanted. The idea of Garrus still being out there, alone. Living his life without her.

Along the way towards Archangels hideout, the three of them did their best to sabotage the mercs tech and equipment, going as far as to hack their Mech- that should be a lovely surprise for them… The closer they got to the main assault on Archangels base, the more anxious she grew. Shepard felt her heart pounding in her chest, the sound booming in her ears. That feeling of hope slipped back into her lower stomach. No matter how hard she kept telling herself to stop, that it wouldn't be him- she couldn't. Trying her hardest to push it aside, it was time for the assault.

She, her new Cerberus crew and the mercs all made their way over a narrow bridge ready to finish him off. The mercs sure would be in for a surprise once they started killing them instead of Archangel... She stepped ahead looking past them, seeing a flash blue and silver. The figure gazing through a black sniper riffle, directly at her. Shepard stood in the middle of the bridge, slowing walking towards the building, towards the figure her gun wasn't even drawn. She bit her lip, hard enough that she could taste the cool metallic blood. She watched as the turian reacted, shooting every one around them besides her. She was lost for a moment, zoning out in the middle of an assault.

She was transported to before her death. Before Garrus went back to C-Sec. Before Virmire. Before the Battle of the Citadel... It seemed like so long ago, yet so recent. They had been off dealing with a derelict freighter. It was full of husks and it hadn't been an easy mission despite the way it would seem. This mission had been just the two of them, which wasn’t normal but Shepard wanted to get to know Garrus better without the distraction of another squad member. At one point they climbed high up the crates that made the room a maze, deciding to pick them off one by one from up top. Garrus had always been a fantastic shot. She loved watching him use his sniper. Damn, he really needed a new one…

They lay on the crates shooting husk after husk from cover. One by one they fell, and she watched the way he held his gun. Garrus had always been the one to study her, but this time she was the predator. Learning him. Figuring out what made him tick. Garrus had this effortless grip when holding his sniper. It looked almost like it was a part of him…

They way Archangel moved… The way he held that riffle. It was so familiar. She had seen that before, she was sure of it.

That armor… That gun… that… this… No. It's not him… Stop.

The sound of Miranda speaking combined with being shot by a concussive round brought her back to the moment. Back to the bridge and back to her mission.

"Shepard! What the hell are you doing?" Miranda yelled over com from behind cover.

A concussive round?

She felt the buzz of her shield popping back up, nodded to Miranda finally pulling her gun out. She held her fist up signaling the time for action. From behind the mercs, they opened fire.

"Shit! They're with Archangel!" One of the Eclipse mercs yelled around them.

One by one the mercs fell as the three of them made their way through the building, up the stairs and to Archangel's hiding spot. After shooting the last two krogan trying to bypass his locks, they continued inside. The mechanical buzzing opened to reveal a tall, lean turian standing. Archangel stood with his back facing them. He still held his gun pointed over the ledge towards the bridge. She thought about how familiar his stance was. Shepard took a slow step forward beginning to speak. Feeling herself growing warm as anxiety filled her.

"Archangel?" She stepped a little closer feeling her heart start to pound.

It's not going to be him. It's not going to be him. It's not going to be him…

The turian turned looking at her. She once again admired the metallic blue, and silver of the heavy armor. She scanned each plate noticing a symbol she hadn't seen before. Shepard slowly brought her eyes to the turians face, but only saw her own reflection in the helmet. She did look like herself… But, different. She noticed the light glow of her scars, but forced the thought away. She couldn't afford to think about what she looked like right now so she lowered her gaze to his hands. Archangel stood stiffly holding a sleek black Spectre requisition sniper riffle. It looked a lot like the one she gave Garrus... She looked back to his face not speaking as her heart raced, watching as the turian removed his helmet.

"Shepard?" The voice breathed out lightly looking at her as if he'd seen a ghost. Under the circumstances, he sorta had been hadn't he? 

Garrus could hardly believe this was more than one of his hallucinations- but this time she had her own heat signature... He saw her stats trickling by on his visor and unless his psychosis had escalated, she was really there. Shepard stepped closer to him and his eyes grew wider. Garrus reached a hand out touching her face. 

"I… I thought you were dead." His voice purred softly letting the riffle and helmet slip from his hands onto the nearby couch.

"Garrus?" After a moment she looked up at him, her eyes grew wide filling with tears. In a flash they grabbed each other tightly. Their armor' clashing in an elegant crash. Garrus was squeezing her tightly, actually feeling her this time. If this was imaginary, it really felt real. He buried his face into her neck and hair. Lavender… Shepard… He pulled back after a minute placing both hands on either side of her face. Garrus looked down at her, feeling her fresh scars under his fingertips.

"Are you really here, Jane?" He looked desperately into her eyes, seeing her vitals trickling in front of him still unbelieving.

"Are you?" Shepard laughed lightly leaning her forehead to his shutting her eyes.

This was it. It really was him… All of her feelings and imagination turned into reality. She had no idea how, but they were together again. She wasn't going to be alone anymore. The last 24 hours had been unbearable, but the second she saw that it was him she knew she could do it. She could take on the Collectors, she could work with Cerberus… She could do it all. 

Pulling back studying his face. Shepard could see how tired he must have been. He had been locked up there without sleep or food for god knows how long. But behind his desperation there was hope. The look they shared spoke volumes, and even though no words left their lips they had an unspoken conversation. Shepard could see the pain in his eyes, that had weighed down on him for these last 2 years. She could see the desperation in them as he held her face lightly in his hands.

God, the way he felt was incredible. Shepard hadn't realized how much she really missed him until he was with her. How much she missed the crystal shade of his eyes, the deep reverb of his voice. She missed the way he said her name, and the way he watched her back. All of it. Shepard wanted to ask him where he'd been, what he'd been doing. How did he manage to piss everyone off on Omega? Was he happy? Had he met someone? What was with the whole 'Archangel' thing?

This wasn't the time though. They were together, and they had time to catch up. It may have only been a few months for Shepard, but it had been a whole 2 years for Garrus. Who knew what he had been up to? Clearly he had been busy.

"Excuse me… I don't mean to interrupt the reunion but we've still got a mission to finish, Commander." Miranda said stepping closer interrupting their moment.

"Right. We can play catch up once we get you out of here." Shepard tried letting go of him but he still just held her close to him. "Garrus, I'm here. It's really me." She looked into his eyes and smiled.

His smile.

**Section from my ME2 stuff :D -- STILL SUPER SCRUBLORD THANKS FOR READING <3**

[[Gif found on Wei723′s Deviant Art!]] 

[ramblinganthropologist]

At the end of an email

This was 100% inspired by a fantastic cover of CYaRon’s P.S no Mukougawa (on the other side of a poscript) by @the9mermaids. They’re probably my favorite Aqours cover group, so you should go listen to them once you’re done. Heck, I’ll pop the link in because the video is really well done. 

Anyway... 

Summary: Far away, they’re far away... only Alistair Shepard and Garrus Vakarian can’t exactly drink the same tea. Still, they have their memories, and their emails, to tide them over until that little chance that they might meet again. Only this is 2185, we’re a little past postcards... emails still count, right? Right?

---

There was something about house arrest that could make a man downright antsy.

“Loco, you look like you're about ready to climb the wall.”

So good of him to fucking notice.

Alistair Shepard shot his impromptu body guard a blank look – James Vega twitched, good. He wasn't used to it yet, even after three months. “I can't imagine why.”

No, not when he was stuck in an apartment when he wasn't being grilled by multiple military tribunals while the world was ready to come down around their shoulders. Why would that make him anxious, especially when his anxiety meds were running low?

Ok... that last one he could have probably controlled, but for some reason the Alliance was really up his ass about how many he took. In his defense, he had been kind of dead the last two years.

Outside the window, it was a lovely day from what he could see. Of course, he couldn't so much as open a window to check without  someone being figuratively up his ass about it. He had long since learned the rules over the last agonizing handful of months, but it still rankled at him whenever he felt the other man's eyes on the back of his now exposed neck.

Up above, James snorted. “At least you don't have to go see the tribunal again this week.”

It was a small miracle. Alistair was getting tired of telling the same damn story to people who weren't listening. Of course, he was probably lucky to be telling it at all. Most people in his position tended to wind up in solitary, or worse. It was the only benefit that came from getting through the Omega 4 Relay alive, or at least that's what he told himself on the better days. On the worst, when his mind wandered and his skin crawled, it was a curse like no other.

Ah, the duality of man.

He drummed his fingers on the counter top, staring down at his hobbled omni-tool. “Hey... can I send an email to Garrus?”

Most people probably would've shut him down immediately, and with good reason. After all, house arrest meant limited contact. Lucky for him, James wasn't most people. He often had a look in his eye that made Alistair think he understood the feeling on a personal level. Of course... he wasn't quite sure what that feeling was. You think over three months of sitting on his ass he would have it on lock, but life was funny that way.

Was interacting with turians supposed to be this hard?

James thought about it for a few seconds before rolling his shoulders – that was a nasty crack, someone was getting bored sitting around too. “Why, you want to sext him or something?”

Color leaked into Alistair's cheeks . “I just wanted to get an update on Palaven is all!”

The large man let out a booming laugh, practically shaking the small room they were holed up in. “Whatever you say, loco. Just don't make it too dirty; I really don't need to know what kind of kinky sex you get down with when it comes to turians.”

They didn't get down to any sex, kinky or otherwise, thank you very much.

Alistair's blush didn't die down until he was seated in front of his keyboard, a blank and highly monitored email screen flashing in front of him. So many possibilities of what to say to Garrus... how did he even begin?

Hey Garrus,

Hope you're doing ok on Palaven. I'm still on house arrest.

Poetry in motion.

He let out a low groan and placed his head on the desk in front of him. “Shit.”

His mind had gone absolutely blank. Anything he could think to write was just so... pointless in the wake of what was going on. Of course Garrus wasn't doing ok – they were on the eve of the Reapers dropping down on their goddamn asses! Why would he even think to write that?

Why was this so hard anyway? It wasn't like it was the first time they were talking. They had done plenty of that back on the Normandy, both SR-1 and 2. In fact, they had gotten... rather close... before they had plunged into the heart of the Omega 4 relay. He didn't exactly want to call it intimacy, but... what they had should have made this so much easier.

Maybe he was just bad at writing?

“Fuck.” He ran a hand over the back of his head, catching the short hairs as he stared at his screen. His fingers didn't want to write right then, but James was waiting for him to figure something out in the next room. At least the man had the decency to go somewhere else when he was spying on the ex-commander.

How polite.

Alistair shook his head and leaned back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling.. Honestly, he didn't even know if Garrus would get the email, much less read it. A sick feeling sunk into his gut of the thought he might just ignore it. After all, there was plenty to do...

And plenty of people to do it with. After all, the turian wasn't the one on house arrest.

Now, he wasn't an insecure person. While his self confidence wasn't the greatest, he knew he had at least some strange charm that had pulled the turian in. The fact still remained he was human, and there were plenty of attractive turians of any gender on Palaven to keep Garrus busy should he need to... scratch an itch. War time efforts tended to bring people together too. Any of that could have been happening while he was stuck in fucking Canada of all places, staring at a screen instead of doing something.

“Damn it, it's not like you said you were exclusive or anything. Don't worry about it.” It didn't help, and Alistair knew it wouldn't. Still, he tried as he stood up to back away from the keyboard for a brief break. He didn't want to, but a beeping on his wrist was letting him know he needed something to eat or he'd bottom out. “Shit, I'm not even using my biotics either.”

Stressing over his love life must  have consumed a lot of sugar...

He found himself in the small kitchen, staring at a can of... something. It was one of those dual brands that had varieties in both levo and dextro in order to capture both halves of the market. He recognized the can – it was hard not to, after all. He had seen its dextro variety clasped in Garrus' talons so many times.

“You can stop fucking with me, universe.” He let out a dejected sigh and poured some down his throat, grimacing at the taste. Something about crossing the needs of both species left little for taste. “Gross... how the hell does he drink this?”

Maybe turians couldn't taste...

Alistair sighed again as he put the can down and stared out the small window on the other side of the apartment. For a brief moment, he swore he could see the star that would've been Palaven's sun. But that was ridiculous – there was too much distance between their planets and systems to even have a chance. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was looking in the right direction. But something about it was oddly comforting as he let his mind wander.

He missed Garrus; he really did.

“Hope you're doing ok out there.”

Alistair muttered that under his breath as he took another sip of the distasteful can. It was the only thing he had right then to connect him to the turian. With how things were going, he didn't know if he would ever be back in the sky . The chances were slim that he would ever see the turian again.

But the hope was there... very small, very dim, but it kept beating.

“Yo, loco, you writing that email or what?”

James' voice boomed out from his hiding spot, knocking Alistair from his reverie. The biotic scowled and took his snack back to where his letter was waiting for him. At least now he had an idea of what to write as he sat back down, putting the can to the side.

Hooray for annoying roommates being amazing writing material.

---

How's the tribunal going? I saw you in one they br-

No. He didn't want to write about that.

Garrus felt his mandibles twitch in annoyance as he delete the line he had been working on. He had been doing that for the last half hour – by then he had enough deleted lines to write a few letters, maybe an entire book the way he was going.

It wasn't his fault – the damn thing just sounded so awkward when he tried to get his thoughts down.

Really, he had a million other things he could have been doing. Ever since the hierarchy had given him a task force to work with for the Reapers, his days had been busy to say the least. It was a miracle he had a chance to sit down and rest at all. Even when he could have, his mind was running a million miles a minute trying to think of what to do next. Of course, that all stopped the moment he was faced with a blank email screen addressed to his...

Well... he didn't really know what to call Shepard. Alistair. Shit..

He rubbed his scarred mandible while he scanned what little he had written. There wasn't much left after his edits, and what was there was... paltry, to say the least. All he had managed were a few bland pleasantries and a basic inquiry: how are you?

“Clearly he's not doing well if he's on house arrest.”

Garrus shook his head and deleted the whole thing. Back to the drawing board  again. The blank page and blinking cursor did nothing to inspire him. In fact, his brain was spinning in circles now, as if to spite him.

Was he even going to get to read it? The turian wasn't really sure how humans handled that kind of arrest. As far as he knew, Alistair was in solitary confinement except for when he was dragged out to answer questions. He was no psychologist, but even he knew that wasn't... great, especially for the social species.

It was kind of an exercise in futility, he realized, trying to write an email. But yet he was trying anyway because he was a fucking idiot like that.

“Get it together, Vakarian.” he hissed the words under his breath, mandibles twitching. He knew he was being stupid, but he couldn't stop himself. Just thinking about the human back on Earth did awful things to his stomach and mind. Dare he say it? He missed the man.

It had been easier when he was dead – at least then he didn't have to wonder if he would ever see him again.

Still... his fingers started to work again, talons clicking as he followed his train of thought. I hope you're doing ok back on Earth. I know it's not easy, but I think you did the right thing by going back to the Alliance.

Empty words maybe, but they spoke volumes about how he felt. Garrus found himself falling into a groove as he continued to write, words and paragraphs constructing themselves under his fingers to be shot across the vast expanse of space to some weird ass place on earth called Canada. It sounded downright boring to him, but what did he know? According to most humans, being a seven foot tall space raptor (whatever that was) was scary enough.

And yet... Alistair liked him anyway.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

A sudden voice caused the turian to rocket up in his seat, fingers hitting the keys hard. He wheeled around hard, carapace groaning from the effort. The turian standing there just so happened to be his younger sister, giving him a look as she watched him panic. When had Solana gotten there anyway?

Garrus had grown too used to being around humans – his subvocals gave him away the moment he let them off. It was downright brutal watching the younger turian's reaction. She was... not going to let him live this down.

“Is this about that human you're doing? Herder or something?”

Garrus shot her a blank look as he made sure to minimize his email program – she was too good at reading over his shoulder. “His name is Shepard, and I was just...”

Just checking up on someone on house arrest for treason against the Alliance? There was no way in hell she was going to believe that.

Solana was practically bouncing on her heels as she put the details together. “Writing a love letter to your boyfriend?”

“No!”

Humans said turians laughed like chickens. While he didn't know what the hell that was, maybe he could imagine it as she chuckled at him. He hoped a chicken was something foul and annoying, because then they would've matched perfectly.

“You can't lie for shit, Garrus!” Her laughter only increased. “You're like a love struck cadet!”

His mandibles fluttered in embarrassment as he turned back to his keyboard. “I'm just checking in. He's the best person to discuss the Reapers with.”

“Uh-huh. Because you act like this every time you write somebody from the Reaper squad.” She patted his carapace with a too friendly gesture – when had Solana become such a little shit? “Whatever you say. Just don't get too explicit. Don't want those censors on earth getting an eyeful of what you two do together when nobody's looking. Might scare them for life.”

She left, still chuckling and leaving her older brother wishing he had been an only child growing up. Garrus scowled once he was alone, waiting until it was safe to return to his work. When he no longer heard her footsteps, he flicked the screen back on.

Shit. That was a lot of typos.

“Thanks, Solana...” scorn filled his voice as he set to correcting them. It ate up some of his precious time, but in the end there was only one left. In the midst of his flailing, he had hit a few keys at the end of his name.

Garrus <3

Now, Garrus didn't know a whole lot about human culture – it wasn't like he had a human fetish, thank you very much. But he at least knew a few things, and one of them was the symbols they used to represent... things. Concepts. Vague ideas?

Ok, he wasn't an xenopologist or anything; his job was to calibrate and shoot things from far away.

Regardless, he knew that one and what it meant, and the thought of it made his face feel hot and mandibles flap. Hearts, hearts he knew. And he knew what would happen if he didn't delete it – some asshole would get a good laugh out of what they thought was something mushy.

But... maybe Alistair would appreciate it if he ever got to see it.

...

With a click, off the email went with a chunk of Garrus' dignity. He shook his head as he stood up from his desk and walked to the window. Outside, it was as busy as ever on Palaven. After so many months away from his home planet, something still felt odd about it. Maybe it always would? Again philosophy and that sort of thing wasn't really his area of expertise.

Still, if he squinted he could just maybe see the mass relay that would connect his system to Earth's. It was a flight of fancy, nothing more, but it was something that made his insides flutter. Somewhere up there was there way to a human he was missing very badly.

Maybe when everything was over, he could go through it and pull the commander out of whatever funk he was sitting in.

“Yeah, right.”

Garrus tore his thoughts away – his omni-tool was beeping incessantly now for something task force related. It was back to work. Still, his thoughts lingered as he walked back into his duties – it may have been a tiny chance, but that was better than nothing.

But first... Reapers. Those he could apply his skill set to perfectly.

---

“Are you sure about this, Shepard?”

“Not like I can go back now, Garrus. We definitely pinged something when we docked.”

The Citadel was a busy place, and the docks were no different. Ships and people alike were in a constant hum of activity, trying to get where they were going. This was a small blessing; nobody noticed the two standing by a shuttle, the main ship definitely under harsh scrutiny at the moment.

Alistair brushed hair from his face that had escaped his ponytail. He was smiling, but he didn't feel it inside. “I'll be ok, Garrus. You know me.”

The turian didn't look convinced as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know what they're going to charge you with. We need you against the Reapers.”

Yes, especially after what they had been through. The Normandy still bore the scorch marks  that came from taking the fight straight to the Collectors and coming back in more or less one piece. It had been a billion to one shot, but they had been the one. Now came the consequences of their actions, and some of them weren't so pleasant.

It wasn't as if Alistair wanted to turn himself into the Alliance, especially with the threat of the Reapers. If he was lucky, they would toss him in solitary until he rot. Less lucky... well, he probably wouldn't be reviving a second time. The thought of just taking off and staying outside their jurisdiction had been a tempting one, especially with his Spectre status.

But he couldn't. Damn it if he wasn't a boy scout to the end.

So all he could really do was smile as he watched the turian in front of him. “Guess you'll be heading back to Palaven once we're through here?”

“Already have a ticket for the next shuttle.” Garrus didn't sound too happy about that. “Somebody has to make them listen about the Reapers.”

If anyone could, it would be him – Alistair knew it in his gut. He would make the hierarchy listen. And with them against the Reapers, maybe they had half a chance in hell. Of course... he should probably do the same with the Alliance, but that was less likely after what he had pulled off.

Yeah... this probably wasn't one of his better plans, but it felt like the right thing to do. Hopefully his gut wasn't turning him wrong.

Their time was growing short, however. Garrus had a shuttle to catch, and Alistair had a short walk to a long headache. There were too many things to say in such a short period, and silence was quickly eating up what was left.

“Shep-”

“Garrus-”

Both stopped the moment they had heard the other speak. Laughter bubbled up at the same time as the two shared a rather hearty chuckle at their own expense. In the large space of the dock, open air gobbled it up. But they had known it had been there, just for a brief moment anyway.

Alistair smiled for real now as he nodded to the turian. “Be safe out there. I'll try to write if they don't throw me in the hole immediately.”

“I'll do the same... minus the whole prison thing.” Garrus' mandibles flapped in that way they did when he was amused. “Don't break out of jail until at least a week, ok?”

The Spectre rolled his eyes playfully as he nudged his... it was complicated... in the side. “Me, break out? You have to be thinking of somebody else.”

Another chuckle, but it was time to depart. Garrus and Alistair faced each other one last time, still smiling in their own ways. The brief warmth of each other's touch would have to be enough to get them through whatever came next.

“Well-” Alistair leaned up on tip toe to peck the scarred mandible. “Here goes-”

---

“Man, that looks uncomfortable.”

Alistair snapped from his reverie. It took him a few seconds to realize why the world was upside down, and it came with a literal crash as he hit the ground, groaning. Apparently, spacing out when hanging off the couch was a bad idea.

Up above, James was giving him that look he did when he thought he had earned his nickname and then some. “That some kind of biotic break out technique?”

Joints popped as he stood, shaking out the headache. “Yeah, all the blood goes to your head and powers the amp up. A few more seconds and I could've phased through the wall.”

Luckily for the universe at large, he didn't think well that way. House arrest would continue on. Still, as he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to focus, the memory lingered. Even thinking about it made him want to smile.

Had it really been that long ago?

The large man currently playing his babysitter nodded towards the counter. A slight smirk played at his lips as he spoke. “You got an email, loco.”

Blood rush or not, Alistair beat a quick path to the computer. Just like James had said, there was an email from far past the cluster. A smile set across his face as he sat down to read it. For a brief moment, Garrus would be there.

Until they met again, that would have to be enough. The emails and the memories would sustain him through countless headache-inducing interrogation sessions and long nights. And with any luck, one day they would speak again.

Now... just what the hell was in there that made James smirk so much?