Part 2- Chapter 3: Enter Archangel

"So now that the clinic doesn't need me, tell me what you know about the Collectors."

Anya was only passively listening to Mordin and Miranda chatter on. She took a quick liking to the Salarian scientist, but he did talk a lot, and her brain was still sort of a slosh. Her brain cells were starting to get antsy about her getting her head on straight again. With all the back-to-back missions, she still didn't feel quite human.

Behind her, Miranda answered, "I can't tell you too much without the data we have on the Normandy, but I can say--"

Just then, somebody grabbed her forearm. Someone with a grip like a goddamn claw machine; inaccurate and fumbling, but still rough when it caught on. "You look like a strong type." Shepard's head turned to look at them, a Krogan in Blood Pack gear. Taking a turn for the bizarre, a Blue Suns merc behind him nodded approvingly. The real offense of it all, though, was that he was close enough for Anya could smell his breath. Had the faintest hint of pyjack and ryncol.

Jerking her arm out of his grasp, she went on instinct: a krogan headbutt. Though it made her forehead feel a bit like jello, the guy staggered back. She stood her ground. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't touch me."

The Batarian behind him started to cackle. "Even better. If you want some cash, ma'am, we need more guns to take down Archangel. Been seiging him for three days now, so he should cave any minute. You in?"

Before Miranda could try to butt in, Shepard winked at her, trying to make a point that she had this. If this was any other case, she'd probably beat their asses into the pavillion metal. But since this Archangel was one of their dossiers, this was an easy in, right? Anya laxed her face muscles and glared at him. "What's the pay like?"

"Trust me, damn good."

Cocking her head at the Krogan still nursing his headplate, Shepard said, "Hope you all are made of tougher shit than him."

"Why else do you think he's been stuck out here for days recruiting?"

Anya laughed, but almost choked at the end. The second she heard it, she knew her old team would've called it out as her "fake, shitty bad guy laugh". Ruined a different mission where they were trying to infiltrate a shady mining operation. Couldn't let the batarian catch that. Instead, she crossed her arms and talked quick. "Where do I sign up and can I bring my guys?"

Almost out of nowhere, the Batarian procured a tablet. Apparently, the gangs really were desperate enough to recruit her, no questions asked. "Sure. And if you sign up with me, I can get you on the next transport to kill Archangel." Anya had to stifle a real laugh. Dude was 100% a "get yourself killed" salesman, but it didn't matter to her. Not when the gangs were about to get some nice, Alliance-bred bullets to their skulls.

"Sounds like my kind of job." Signing the fake names Oksana Marakov, Dinmor Lasso, and Barbie Tits, Shepard waved off the guy and went back to her team. Miranda had a raised eyebrow.

With her best friendly smile, Anya said, "Change of plans. Mordin, Miranda, you come with me. Sounds like Archangel needs some rescuing if we want him to make it to The Normandy alive. Jacob, go back and make sure Chakwas has the medbay prepped. I'm sure the guy won't be in the best condition after what they've been putting him through." Jacob saluted and then headed towards the docking bay.

Miranda grimaced at the merc tag Shepard sent to her omni-tool. Wincing, Anya knew that her impulse name-giving probably wasn't going to be well-received. But she panicked under pressure.

The Cerberus officer groaned and asked, "Barbie Tits? C'mon."

"I'm not good at fake names okay? Just ask Joker about the Dranek mission, he'll explain it in excruciatingly embarrassing detail. Next time I'll try better. Or we'll plan beforehand. Or just revenge kill me at a later date. Right now, we need to get moving."

Mordin just blinked with that slightly unsettling grin on his face. "Never seen all three gangs work together. Will be fascinating."

With a wave of her arm, Miranda let Shepard take point. "Lead the way, Oksana Marakov." Other than Miranda's clear dissatisfaction with her code name, Anya almost started smirking off her skull. This was just the way she liked it. And while normal life still felt surreal, shooting? She was good at that.

One transport ride later, they were knee-deep in the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse strongholds, preparing for the next wave of attack. Unluckily for the bastards, Anya was a trained infiltrator. Minor hacking and sabotage was her jam. By the time they wanted to start a fight, she couldn't even count how many things she'd left her mark on.

After she pulled off her final masterpiece, damaging a famed Blue Suns hovercopter, Miranda kept tossing Shepard concerned, and possibly frightened, glances. As they suited up for the fight, she said, "Remind me never to get on your bad side. Guess you can do worse damage than Barbie Tits."

"I said I was sorry." Shaking her head, Anya focused instead on the good stuff. "But thank you. Mordin's suggestion of killing the mechanic probably would be more efficient, but I like to cross my wires and blow up the controls in style."

Next to her, Mordin looked dissatisfied with her choice, but also didn't seem like the guy who'd mind results. "One less Blue Sun is still one less."

"We can chat more once we've done our cute little betrayal here." Pressed up against the barrier, they linked their comms. After a few other mercs hopped the fence, she looked to her team. They were strangers still, for the most part. Other than Kirrahe, she'd never worked with a Salarian, really. And Miranda was sort of so perfect she was intimidating and worse, she knew that. It was weird to get used to. But so far, she liked them. Anya grinned, prepared for a good fight. "Ready?"

Both of them nodded.

Jumping the barrier herself, Shepard was surprised to feel a bullet already skim her shields. Anya dropped behind some new cover and felt her heart racing. They made it clear this guy was good, but not that good.

She got out her own sniper rifle to get a better view on the situation.

When she peered out from her cover, using the sights to see him, that fast heartbeat of hers went dead. Directly down her sights was another sniper, a turian, wearing distinct blue and black gear. She couldn't see his face, but every organ in her body stopped working, because the way he pulled that trigger felt so familiar.

Half out of confused panic, knowing it definitely couldn't be him, she said into her mic, "You didn't say he was a sniper."

Miranda sounded confused. "Does it matter?"

With her organs struggling to function the longer her brain did mental gymnastics to try to figure out if it even could be him, Shepard gave her honest answer, "Yes." It didn't make sense; Garrus planned on joining Spectres. Instead, he went MIA, but she assumed it just meant he did the Spectre thing on his own. But this?

Across the comms, Miranda replied, "Well if you needed to know his weapon specialties, you really should've read the dossier--"

"I didn't get to his dossier. This wasn't exactly on my itinerary today."

"If you prefer to be more prepared, then--"

"It's not about being prepared!"

"Then can you stop interrupting me?"

"Yes! Now let's take out these fuckers, get upstairs, and for the love of god if either of you shoot him, I shoot you."

Behind the barrier next to her, Mordin and Miranda just blinked at her. Christ, she sounded crazy. But at least the Salarian shrugged and shot a merc walking past his position. Then he said, like that was casual, "Interesting ultimatum, but at least the mercenaries we can agree on."

Taking a deep breath, Shepard couldn't explain all the thoughts racing through her head right now. But she only knew one turian who was that good of a shot, and if there was even a 1% chance it was him... Well, she would burn this whole station down before she let anyone touch him.

Missions made the soldier in her feel real and alive, but Garrus? He made her human.

Engaging her tactical cloak, Anya started taking out all the mercs advancing on his position. A lot of them only took a quick punch and a shot to the back of the skull, but she did get to play around with some long-range when the last couple that reached the bottom floor of the apartment finally realized there was someone else shooting at them.

But scared, disorganized mercs were still easy to take out.

When Anya got to the top of the stairs, her heart was already on the fritz and had completely lost its mind. But the second they were closing in on him? It was like time stopped and then started spiraling backward. The tall, broad shoulders, the casual posture, the way he held his gun. It even still had that scrape from Feros. He said he'd get it buffed out on the Citadel. He didn't.

The turian took one last shot. A final hiding merc on the bridge dropped dead. Then, he moved away from the balcony, sat himself on some crates, and leaned his sniper against his hip. One flick of his fingers against his helmet, the thing was off, and those damned bright blue eyes were staring at her again. And when he started speaking she couldn't breathe. He practically growled, "Shepard. Thought you were dead." While he looked cool and serious, even a little angry, she knew his eyes. There was a lot more going on behind them and she didn't know what to say about that. But being able to see him again?

Well, that was worth coming back for.

There in front of her, with his stupid smirk and classic sniper rifle, was Garrus Vakarian.

A whisper to herself, she said, "Garrus." All it took was one look at him and all those feelings that felt lost, the squishy human who knew how to cry and dance and make him laugh? She was right there, screaming under the surface of her skin, infecting every pore with all the complicated things she felt. But Anya shook her head. There wasn't time for all that. She instead tried to keep everything straight and attempted to give him a more proper hello. Though, granted, she wasn't sure what the proper hello was for a friend who until thirty seconds ago thought she was dead. "Garrus Vakarian. I tried to find out where you were, but it seems you were just hiding out in this shithole under a code name. Clever. Trying to make sure I'd never find you again?"

He did that low, tired laugh of his, when he was wearing thin on a mission that went too long. If they had the time, she'd ask why he looked like this, what made him so tired and angry. Anya knew years had passed for him, of course he'd be different but... She didn't expect the way his fists kept clenching.

Garrus played it off with a friendly smile. "If I knew you'd be coming to find me, I would've left better clues."

Everything between them stayed on the surface layer while they talked. She didn't know how to do anything else under the shock and pressure of seeing him again with mercs on the fucking doorstep. But there was so much more under the surface that words couldn't cover just yet.

Instead, she said, "I'd joke that you were trying to run from all the danger I put you in, but looks like you made more than enough on your own. How'd you manage to piss off all of Omega?"

"Vigilante-ism, per usual."

Anya couldn't help but stare at him. Last she saw him, she'd just told him how much he mattered and then sent him away to save his life. And she couldn't fathom all the things he felt after all this time, after what she said.

She didn't even know what he would've said back. Maybe it was why his fist kept clenching, looking at her. That made a pit in her stomach that she didn't have the bandwidth to deal with right now.

So surface level would have to do.

But Garrus beat her to the punch. "I'd love to catch up more, tell you about my wonderful fuck-up here and all, but maybe we can save the reunion chat for after we get rid of the bloodthirsty mercs?"

"Fair." Nodding at Miranda, she said, "Stay up here with Garrus. Mordin and I will take point downstairs. We're lighter; we'll be able to take some good shots that they don't expect."

When she pulled out her pistol, Garrus's smirk felt real for the first time. "Still ruining lives with that thing?"

"It's not the exact same gun, but you gotta stick to what you're good at."

Before she walked downstairs, he grabbed her arm and said, "The second I saw that tactical cloak shooting pistol-fire, my gut said it was you. I knew you were dead, but I know you on a battlefield, Shepard." Taking a deep breath, he added, "I don't know how, but I'm happy you're back. Now, keep yourself alive this time?"

"Will do."

As she walked downstairs, it felt like she was tearing herself away from him, and it kept getting harder. With each wave they regrouped, made a plan, and then she inevitably split from him. The Blood Pack got some extra face bullets for that, as did the Krogan that tried to run him down. She would fight any of them, all of them, with her bare hands if she had to.

Getting Garrus back and losing him on the same day was not an option.

Just as things seemed to calm down, he was back to his deflective smirking. "We're doing great. I was already pissing them off, but with you around they're really losing their shit."

"We've always been a good team, Vakarian."

"Trust me, I know." Hearing his voice was like waking up, for real. The past few days were this slow crawl back to reality, but he was the exact cool drink of water that made her realize this all wasn't a mirage.

Just as she got up from behind her cover and started to walk his way, he turned towards her and gave her this look, like he was seeing sun for the first time. While he looked so much rougher, angrier, a few times he looked at her and that all faded away. And it hit her so hard that she knew they'd have a lot to talk about once they got out of here. Hell, they'd always have a lot to talk about, but since the Collector attack?

Things were different. And not just because she died. She wanted to hear every word he needed to say.

Just as she stopped staring at him, though, that bastard Blue Suns ship swept down, shooting rockets. And he didn't have time to get to cover.

The next few minutes were a blur. She got rid of the threat with a few rockets of her own, blowing that asshole out of the sky. Anya's head was racing and couldn't shut up, rolling around guilt and blame on repeat. Maybe if she'd killed the mechanic he'd be okay. Maybe if she wasn't an idiot, mooning over his face and looks and all her damned memories, this wouldn't have happened.

When she knew the threat was gone, she dropped her guns and went to him.

Falling to her knees next to him, Garrus was drenched in a pool of blue blood, his mandible was ripped open, and he was blinking in and out of consciousness. Anya felt empty. She couldn't have come this far, come back from the fucking dead, just to lose him again. For years she kept losing people, but not this one. Not this time. He had to make it. If anyone deserved to drop from a rocket hit, it was her. She literally was out here shooting past her expiration date. He didn't deserve this, not when he was--

Her fingers twined into his and held tight.

As a Normandy shuttle came down with medical supplies, and some crew helped load him on, she didn't leave his side. Miranda tried to pull her away and heal her own bruises and tears, but Shepard wouldn't budge. This wasn't a time to be practical, not when her own practicality sent him away in an escape pod and abandoned him like this for two fucking years.

She wasn't going to let him go. Not again.

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