Second Chances

Series: Mass Effect
Pairing: Fem-Shepard/Garrus

Rated Teen for language and slight angst
Word Count: 1273

Chapter 1

Shepard was gone. He'd seen the Normandy explode with her still on board; he'd heard Joker's report of what happened, how she'd carried him to the escape pod and put him inside. How Joker had seen her send the pod when she wasn't able to get in herself.

 Shepard was dead and there was no changing it. 

He supposed how he was feeling was understandable. She had been his friend, his commanding officer, and the one person he'd trust to have at his back. She'd given him a life that wasn't wrapped up in red tape and regulations. One he didn't have to always follow 'the rules' in. She'd given him everything he wanted out of life, and more. It made sense that her death would leave him wounded, with an empty hole right where his heart was. 

C-Sec had asked him back of course, he'd been a good officer. He'd gotten things done in his time there, but he couldn't bring himself to go back to that. Not after the freedom Shepard had shown him. He would have to find something else. Spectre training appealed to him, and he tried for a while, but the Counsel and general attitude of the people in the Citadel irritated him, grated on his nerves more than any time before. They refused to believe the Reaper threat was real, they refused to believe that Reapers were real at all. He couldn't stay there. 

He lost himself in a bottle for a few weeks, and wondered if the rest of the crew was feeling this way, this lost,  or if there was something wrong with him. Surely he hadn't fallen for a human, that stuff was reserved for sexual deviants. Shepard had just been a good friend, right? 

But the more he thought on it, the more he came to realize that wasn't true, he had felt more for her than he'd ever let her know, and now it was too late. He'd never get the chance to correct his mistake, he'd never get the chance to show her that she was much more to him than just a commanding officer, much more than a friend. She was dead and there was nothing he could do. 

The idea to be a vigilante came to him one night after he'd drank so much he could barely drag himself to his quarters. He'd go to Omega and help people there. There were more than enough thugs to keep him busy, and his mind off of his wounded heart. He might even eventually get over Shepard if he tried hard enough. The thought stung a bit more than he'd like to admit. 

Over the next year or so he'd followed Shepard's example and collected a team, a pretty damn good one if you asked him, but it hadn't helped that empty spot where She used to be. He couldn't go on like this much longer, these guys were great, but they weren't Shepard, and they weren't the crew of the Normandy. It was time to up his game. Everything he'd been doing so far had been small stuff, a few thugs here and there, nothing too big, nothing that could really get him killed. But what was the point? If he was going to be stuck without Shepard he might as well do something big, go out with a bang right? And if he didn't die in the process, well, then the world would be out quite a few thugs and would generally be a much better place. 

So he started to piss them off one at a time, it took a few months to get them mad enough to come after him. It had surprised him a little when they all teamed up, but well, he'd hoped it would end in something like this. It wasn't until Sidonis betrayed him, and the majority of his team died that he started to regret his decision. He'd always hoped that they'd make it through this alive somehow, that he'd die in the process but they'd be there to help impose an order on Omega.

It was too late now. He'd just have to keep fighting, keep sniping the thugs, mercenaries and 'freelancers' off the bridge. He'd run out of ammo eventually, sure. Hell he might not even make it until then, but he had to take out as many as he could before the end. Then maybe he'd get to see Shepard again in the afterlife, if there was such a thing. 

—

That one looked a lot like Shepard. Actually, he was positive that one was Shepard. But how? How could it possibly be her? And why was she here to kill him?

He took out several freelancers in front of her and shot her a couple times with concussive rounds. Nothing hard enough to really hurt her of course, he'd never hurt Shepard, or even someone who looked a lot like her. Even if she was there to kill him. Then she started firing, not at him, but at the freelancers in front of her, two others were with her, taking out the scattered thugs along the way, and he allowed her into the building. 

How was she alive and how did she know he needed her help now? 

She didn't tell him much when she got there, just that Cerberus had brought her back to life somehow, he didn't care she was Shepard, really her, and she was alive. There was no way he was going to die here now. They'd get out of this place alive no matter what. 

That thought was on his mind as he took a missile to the face. 

—

The world swam and came into focus and he realized he was on a ship. The Normandy II he was told by Dr. Chakwas, how was she here? Joker's voice rang over the intercom telling the crew some nonsense, he imagined it was some type of human joke he didn't quite understand, especially right now in his barely awake mind. How was he not dead? How as Shepard not dead again? 

Then he decided, it didn't matter. They were both alive, both on the 'Normandy' again. He didn't know if she had ever felt that way about him, he was a Turian after all. He looked nothing like the soft squishy humanoid species she was used to, but now, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to give up this second chance. He'd let her know this time, eventually. He'd feel her out first, see if she was receptive to the idea, then, he'd make his move. 

He pulled himself out of med-bay, his mandibles smarted like hell, but he imagined that was the least that could happen when you took a missile blast to the face. He found her after a sort time, talking to someone, asking if he was alright. It pleased him, and in that place that had been empty for the past two years he felt a warmth blossoming. Shepard was worried for him.

He stepped inside and asked her how he looked, he was sure it was bad, it had to be with how his face was feeling. 

"Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face paint on there and no one will even notice." She said playfully, relief that he was up and about already clear on her face. 

"Some women find facial scars attractive; mind you, most of those women are Krogan." He tried to state smoothly and laughed, it hurt but he didn't care, though part of him hoped one of those women was Shepard.