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In this one, Garrus is in a casino.
He hates casinos, but there he is in a plush chair, wearing a tuxedo with a pile of chips growing in front of him.
Garrus feels like an animal wearing armor, constricted in all the wrong places, entertaining the humans with his playact of their behavior.
But there he is with a martini and Kaidan is sitting to his right, flirting with the Asari who had been winning all night.
And there she is, leaning over a poker table, flashing him a quick sly smile.
And where did you come from? I don’t get many Turian gentlemen at my table.
With a casino uniform, face unmarked by combat, and a name tag that says Commander.
My parents thought it was funny. Thought it gave me one career path. But it also helps you get a lot of tips dealing cards.
She isn’t dead, she is breathing and warm under her dress. She leans into him, her hands on his back and her body, soft and lithe, in his arms.
My apartment is right around the corner. Would your friends mind if I got you alone for a little while?
She smells like space, all metal and ozone, and Garrus feels heat radiate from her when she kisses him. Like his rifle when fired, sudden and sharp.
He wakes up to gunfire and remembers that he hates casinos and tuxedos and martinis and poker dealers in little burgundy outfits.
Garrus wonders if Kaidan would finally return his messages.
He falls asleep tucked behind a barrier as the others insist he rest. That being an Angel doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to be protected. That they could handle it.
This is his favorite one.
Shepard is Shepard and she is stretched beside him laughing, side by side on her small bed. She shifts her body, folding into his arms until she is tucked next to him.
“What would you do if you weren’t a solider?” he asks.
She runs a foot up and down his leg. They were always touching in this one, her hand on his arm, her back pressed against his chest.
“I’d run a restaurant for people who date Turians so they could still have a nice date,” she laughs, “I’d be the hit of the galaxy.”
“Okay, so first step, learn to cook,” Garrus laughed with her. It sounds unfamiliar to him, like he thinks that is what laughing should sound like, but he didn’t remember how to do it.
“Okay, seriously, I am not sure,” she said, her voice growing a little more serious, “Maybe an ambassador or with the Council? Maybe be a mom? Maybe I’d work for some tiny charity or do corporate espionage?”
“You were born to do this Shepard,” Garrus gripped her a little tighter, her pulse loud and firm against his arm, “But I think you’d be good at anything you tried.”
She flipped around grinning, “I think I know one thing I’m very good at.”
It all goes black, and he's reeling in the dark, grasping at the edges of his memory for something to hold on to.
Her voice rings through his head, "Focus."
He wakes up when the first body drops, gunfire echoes beside him.
That one never finishes.
He never dreams that he’ll find her.
His story never ends with a tiny home or with children raised, running around the deck as Joker yells that they are going to hurt his ship. Garrus never smiles as Shepard gets the awards she deserves. He never sees himself old and Shepard gray, in the later years of their lives.
The closest he gets are dreams of quiet days on the Normandy. Playing cards, watching vids, and walking the empty halls when the ship was dark and silent
He dreams about finding Shepard standing at her terminal, checking her email. He dreams about Wrex telling the same story about killing Turians over and over again. He recounts entire shuttle debates about whatever topic Ashley was getting worked up about that day.
From the “Are Earth Girls Really Easy?” to the “How can you know Turian food is disgusting if you can’t try it?”, these debates would replay in dramatic suspense as if he was watching a procedural crime vid.
“Humans are the best dancers!” her voice started to rise as her cheeks started to grow red.
Liara interrupted, “If you just look purely about the number of active years an Asari has, we have the time to become better dancers.”
“I don’t care if it is 2 years or 100 years of practice, a human is just better at it!” Ashley continued, “Maybe it is just a matter of taste.”
Shepard shook her head and shot Garrus a look.
Garrus was shook awake as he heard an explosion outside.
In this one, Garrus is dead.
He loves this one.
Shepard is sad, but not as sad as she would be if they were still together.
She mourns him and moves on. He gives her the chance she wouldn’t have had.
Kaidan takes the chance and they marry. She remembers Garrus fondly but has children upon children who grow up strong and brave as their parents run the largest ships the Alliance can afford. Garrus watches as they grow old together, happy and proud and they speak about their dear friend Garrus each year the passes.
Turians learn about Garrus and everything he accomplished at Shepard’s side. He becomes a minor hero and they name a military academy after him. Shepard comes to the opening and speaks about her love for her friend that died too early.
His parents are happy their son died a hero working for the Council. Kaidan is happy because he has Shepard and the life that Garrus would envy. Shepard is happy because she is alive and bright and everyone speaks of the great things she does.
Garrus is happy because he didn’t ruin that.
He doesn’t need to be asleep to have that one.
When she does come back, he feels that dream fade away and a new one grows within him every time he hears her say his name.
A dream of solace, of nights and days beside a woman that only knew how to do good and a life that meant accomplishing more then being a foot solider. She smiles up at him and he finds his back straightening, his tone softening, and pieces fitting back together tight in his chest.
He dreams of being whole.