INTERMISSION: ARCHANGEL- 25 Days

After losing the Savior of the Citadel, who happened to be his commanding officer, no one really questioned his request to delay Spectre training. The whole galaxy was wracked by the news, even on Palaven. At first, Garrus thought he could run from her here, but all he had to do was walk the streets of the capital and he'd hear her name.

He couldn't keep on hearing her name.

"All the officials have even planned to do a spirit ritual for Commander Shepard."

Overhearing his sister and father's conversation, though, it didn't seem like there was anywhere he could run where he wouldn't hear about her. Everywhere was a Shepard-less nightmare, where her name was on everybody's lips but she never showed up.

Garrus could hear the annoyance in his father's voice. "Guess even the hierarchy is obsessed with the woman. Well, if the people will feel inspired by honoring a warrior spirit, I suppose it's for the best."

"Not today, father, please." From the other room, Solana spoke louder. "Garrus, they'd like you to speak at Shepard's spirit ritual. What do you say?"

Laying on his childhood bed and staring at the ceiling above him, he couldn't think of anything he'd want to do less. Hearing Alliance soldiers spew about her heroism had made him sick enough. He might as well get hung before doing it himself.

Garrus said, "I'd rather volunteer for janitorial detail at the junior boot camps."

"I could set that up for you, if you'd rather do that in her honor--"

Lucky for him, his father cut her off. "That's not what he meant, Solana." He'd appreciate his father's intervention, if he didn't know Castis Vakarian so well. The man sounded so self-righteous about it. "And unfortunately, it's not out of protest for Spectres, he's just pouting."

Garrus and his father didn't get along on a good day, so there had been a lot of yelling the past week he'd been home. He doubted it was going to stop anytime soon. Trying to shut down the conversation, he replied, "My friend is dead and I'm tired of people treating her like a symbol instead of a human being."

"For once, I agree with you. It's out of precedent to hold a spirit ritual for a human."

He wasn't sure if he was more irritable while grieving or if his father was really trying to be more of an asshole lately.

Getting off his bed, Garrus walked to the open door and leaned against the metal trim, crossing his arms. His father and Solana were sitting at the table, like this entire conversation was casual, not the kind that stabbed his aorta. "Spirits sake, yes, she was a squishy human. And she was the savior of the Citadel. And she was a good person. Could you keep your politics about Spectres or humans out of this? At the very least, out of respect for your son's now-dead commanding officer?"

Across from him, his father's face stayed serious. "Fine. New topic: why aren't you going back to C-Sec?" Garrus was ready to scream, but his stubborn-ass father clearly had a whole speech ready. "I believe in doing what's right and Saren needed to be taken down. But you left your post without a word and refused to listen to your superior officers. Clearly, you still have a lot to make up for there-"

Garrus was lucky that, before he could finish, somebody started to call Castis Vakarian on his omni-tool. Watching him walk out of the room, he and Solana waited until the door shut behind him. Only then did he sit down at the table.

Sighing, his sister patted his right hand. "Father means well. He's just a classic hierarchy man and you're, well...."

"A rebellious hothead?"

"I mean I wasn't going to say it like that but... yes."

Solana's concern was sweet, but he always appreciated her honesty. It was better to be sweet about hard truths than telling kind lies. Her eyes, a brighter blue than his, tried to be as soft as they could. Since he knew he was getting more than she gave the politicians she worked with, it was something.

She said, "He cares for you, brother, and he can see this is hard on you. But when mother died, you both threw yourselves into your work. He's struggling to understand what makes this time different."

Garrus didn't really want to tackle that right now, poke the raw wound of losing his mother, the one that sat right next to his Shepard-sized one. That bitch still wasn't done bleeding. He was starting to think it never would.

Quietly, almost to himself, he said, "It just is."

No matter how hard Sol was trying, he didn't want to keep talking about this. He didn't come back to Palaven to keep hashing out the same conversations about grief and loss, because it never made him feel any better.

Instead, he cocked his head towards the door their father walked out of. "How does the man even have human friends when he acts like this?"

"He just doesn't like humans being raised up as Turian heroes, especially after one of our own committed such a heinous betrayal. So, for lack of a better phrase, it's just your human."

"Not helping, Sol."

"I know. My profession is social organization and disseminating information, not making it sound nice." Sol leaned back in her chair, just like him, not pushing him to feel better. Garrus sometimes wondered how such a patient, practical person could be the sister of a so-called turian hothead. Their parents were difficult people, too; it was a miracle Solana wasn't just like them.

Even if the rest of this damned planet was rubbing him wrong, at least Solana was trying her best. So, Garrus tried to be more patient with her, too, and kept his yelling to a minimum. He probably didn't deserve someone so patient with all the yelling he'd been doing.

Solana interrupted his thoughts and said, "If it matters at all, I'm sorry you lost her. She must have meant a great deal to you. And I know how much you hate my gossiping and astounding intuition, so I won't ask if it was more than that."

"You don't know how much I appreciate that right now."

"We're your family, Garrus. We're here for you. Even if father is terrible at showing it."

"I just wish this was easier." His head was swimming, and he was way too aware he had bigger problems if even Palaven felt like too much of... her. And she'd never even been there. Since Sol was the only person who didn't piss him off right now, he couldn't help but talk about it. "I'm supposed to be heading back to the Citadel in a few days to report to Spectre training. But I don't know if I can do it anymore."

"Well, Dad would be thrilled if you went back to C-Sec."

"I don't want to go to C-Sec, either."

"This may sound very Turian of me, but civil service is what we do. Where else would you go?"

Garrus knew Sol had a point. But practicality didn't matter to him right now; surviving Shepard did. He just needed to stop bleeding, dammit. And maybe that meant he was a bad Turian, and maybe he was okay with that.

"Anywhere that didn't remind me of her. I thought Palaven would be enough, but even here..." At the thought of a spirit ritual for her, honoring the soldier and hero she was, the nausea hit him again. Was that all he was lately, vomit and blood?

He admitted to Solana, "As a ghost, she's everything she never wanted to be."

"What do you mean?"

Picturing her in her room, ripping her hands through her hair, always pulling out a few strands, he remembered holding her. He remembered telling Shepard he would be there for her. He remembered reminding her she was a squishy human and how big she smiled and until right before the Collectors took her away, he didn't understand why. But he gave Sol the simpler answer, without all the messy feelings and muscle memory involved. "Shepard didn't love being a beacon. She just wanted to help people. She just wanted to be human."

"Well, when there's no human anymore, isn't the beacon all anybody has left?"

He knew Solana had a point. He knew that there were a lot of people that needed to remember her as a hero; a symbol of hope. Hell, if he never met her, he would've probably done the same. Commander Shepard would be a name that went down in history, so why wouldn't they treat her that way?

But they didn't comfort her while she cried, he did. The second she looked up at him with those sad green eyes, Garrus wasn't sure he'd ever be capable of seeing anything else. Sighing, he leaned forward onto the table and told Solana, "That may make the galaxy feel better, but it feels like everything I knew, everything I--"

As he started to crumble, Sol grabbed his hand again and it felt like he had an anchor. Not the one he wanted, but still a good one.

"She really did a number on you, didn't she, Garrus?" His sister echoed his sigh and then said, "Go wherever is quiet. I'll even help you look. Just as long as you keep in touch."

"Always."

For the next few days, Garrus tried to stay civil with his father and do his best to help Solana. But with all her extranet data mining skills, she did better on her own. He just found himself waiting. The night before he was supposed to ship out for Spectres, she knocked on his door.

It opened, and she had this clever but sad look on her face. Maybe mixed in with a little amusement, but he wasn't sure. She always kinda looked amused after she finished a job, for her brother or not.

Solana walked in and sat down next to him on his bed. With a flick of her wrist, she opened her omni-tool. "I found the place that's quietest about Shepard, but I don't know if you'll like it."

"What?"

Another flick, and she opened a file with a picture of a darkened space station, with red lights. It didn't exactly look like the friendliest place, and he couldn't put his finger on it, but it definitely looked familiar. "It's called Omega."

That's when it clicked. C-Sec has an entire cabinet dedicated to shit from there. He raised an eyebrow at his sister. "You mean like the mercenary den, filled with drug traders and illegal activity? Hell, a rebellious hothead who can't keep his nose out of others' business like me is totally gonna fit in."

"You wanted to know where you wouldn't find her. This is your best shot."

They sat there, staring at the picture of Omega. His stomach sort of churned, but the thought of finally getting peace from her...

Solana said, "I know you don't like agreeing with dad, but C-Sec wouldn't be a terrible option. And for all his gripes about Spectres, if you wanted it, you'd make a good one. Both will have you. I've just armed you with information. It's your job to make a choice."

Laughing, he focused on the only good thing about this moment. "Damn, you're a good big sister."

"I know, right?" Solana flicked her omni-tool closed and pulled him in for a full hug. "I love you, Garrus."

"Love you, too, Sol."

He spent the rest of the night packing and pouring over his datapad, which held all the information Solana sent him. While it told him all the basics about Omega (with the ominous phrase "Don't fuck with Aria" underlined a few times), she also sent him an approval-of-reinstatement letter from Officer Bailey, and the dossier on his acceptance Spectre Program.

Big sis wasn't lying about giving him all the information.

By the morning hours, sleeping on the decision really didn't help. He said a more formal goodbye to his family and headed for the spaceport, knowing that he was either heading back to the Citadel or somewhere far worse.

At first, he figured that being a Spectre had to be something; he'd at least get a shot to do the kind of work she loved and honor her memory like that, right?

But then he thought of his name, Spectre Vakarian, and that nausea hit all over again. And he also knew better than to think that her name wouldn't be all over that program, talking about her successes, or Saren's, or even Nihlus'.

He'd quickly be known as the guy who knew Shepard. Would he be bullied into interviews and have to talk about her? Or worse, would they just elect him to take her place as the galaxy's new savior?

That was enough to make up his mind. A one-way ticket to Omega it was. Whether he stayed there to change some things or just heal up his bleeding wound, anything had to be better than having the Alliance and Spectres bleed him dry just to get their last living glimmer of Shepard.

Fuck them. He'd figure things out his own way.

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