Garrus blinked at Shepard before blinking once more at the item she held. "I, umm…" he started awkwardly, unsure of what it meant.

"I won him at the crane game at the arcade," Shepard beamed, holding the volus plushie straight outward toward her mate. Pride rolled off her in waves, accompanied by her trademark shit-eating smirk. "Got us some new music for the place and a couch, too. Not bad for a rookie, eh?"

Garrus eyed the toy skeptically. "How many credits did you have to toss down to win that?"

Shepard waved him off, already half way to the office – undoubtedly to find a spot to display her new trophy. "I think I'll name him Pepperoni," she mused to herself in the other room.

Garrus sighed, going back to check through his messages through his omni-tool, only to be caught off guard as Shepard had already reappeared behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Ever hear of the phrase, 'to the victor go the spoils?'" The way her voice purred made Garrus shiver slightly.

The turian chuckled. "Now who said you've claimed victory today?"

Shepard giggled, biting her lip for a moment before replying, "Spoil me, and I'll show you…"

Those messages could wait.

Garrus hadn't been aware of his damaging grip until he heard the creaking of the wood beneath his talons, warning that the office desk wouldn't be able to handle much more of the abuse. In the other hand, Pepperoni the volus plush stared stupidly back up at him.

How long had he been standing there?

Taking a moment to compose himself, Garrus felt his mandibles clench tighter, nearly to the point of pain. It had been three weeks already. Three weeks since the final call was given that they had won, that the war was over, that the reapers were gone. Two weeks since the call had been made to end the search for her. One week since he'd finally began the grieving process.

Three weeks since he'd lost the love of his life.

The thought made the pain that had been settled in his chest for three weeks to tighten into a vice grip, and he struggled to breath. But he couldn't do this now. He couldn't break here. He had a job to do. Granted no had one rushed him, no one said it had to be done just yet. But the sooner the better. He was a soldier, and this was his duty. He had to do this. For her.

He had expected the apartment would be damaged in the battle, and it was. For the most part, it was in one piece. But the large windows along the main wall – the same ones he had warned her about – were shattered and scattered along the entire unit. Scorch marks were visible in the main living areas, and just about everything from the dishes to entire pieces of furniture had been tossed about haphazardly. In some areas, it looked hardly recognizable.

But what Garrus didn't anticipate was the fact that despite all of the damage, despite all the time that had passed, it still smelled like her. She had only been staying there for a relatively brief time, but he could still smell the faint waft of her vanilla shampoo. Especially surrounding the kitchen, he could still smell the remnants of what she called grilled cheese – a favorite of hers. When he had been packing up her clothes, the scent of her perfume was so distinct his knees had nearly buckled on the spot.

And without her there, without that big silly grin on her face, or the slight sway in her hips as she moved through the halls, or the quiet humming she always did when she was lost in thought, it just felt so empty. So goddamn empty.

Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. Gasping for air, he felt his legs give out beneath him, his grip on the desk the only thing keeping him somewhat upright as his knees hit the floor. The other hand pinned Pepperoni to the ground.

"Spirits, Shepard," he breathed out, pain rolling over him in unforgiving waves. "I-I can't do this."

He felt so lost. She had become the center of his universe, the one thing that had kept him from being lost to the void he had fallen into the first time he'd lost her. She was his rock, his life. Her laughter was what soothed his spirit, her soft touch was what kept him sane amongst the chaos of this war. She was his closest friend, his mate. But he had somehow fallen into a universe where that laughter would never be heard again, where that same warmth was swallowed into a darkness he could never reach.

She was gone.

This was the first time that Garrus allowed himself to admit that to himself. Sure, he had started to go through the motions of grieving, but there was always that hope. That hope that the others were wrong, that she could still come home, that she was still out there waiting for him.

Did she wait for him? What if they had simply been too slow, that she had survived the initial explosion and had simply waited for help that would never come? This thought alone crippled him; his vision spun and his stomach threatened to release his lunch. Garrus realized that the only prayer he had left was that she had gone quickly, and with the dignity of the soldier that she had always strove to be – that she had become.

The pain began to overtake him, and feeling more lost and tormented than he had ever imagined a living being could ever endure, he suddenly and violently lashed out, his hand smashing through one of the glass pains in the display cabinet, a feral howl tearing through his throat.

Adrenaline coursed through him as he quieted against the sound of the glass clinking to the floor. His breaths came in pants now and his eyes were clenched shut. All he knew was pain. For a long while, he was simply caught up in the manual effort to keep himself breathing.

When his outburst had done nothing to help, his frustrations once again turned into drowning grief and now guilt. How could he keep going? How could he just pretend that none of this mattered?

Slowly settling back onto his knees, Garrus finally allowed himself to open his eyes, to see the damage he had caused. The one pane of glass on the cabinet that had remained intact after the reaper attack was now shattered to pieces, littering the floor around him. Just another thing to have repaired.

However, as he surveyed the shattered glass, something caught his eye. A tiny piece of paper stuck face down on the dark wood of the cabinet behind where the glass had been, wrinkled but in one piece. He frowned. Something about this little piece of paper struck him as familiar somehow. It looked worn and yellowed, obviously carried around for a while, only to be kept here for supposed safe-keeping. He reached out to gingerly pick it up. Was there writing on –

Garrus' world froze. Flipping the paper over, he recognized the familiar photo that he and Shepard had taken months before, not long before she had been court martialed and they had been separated. She had insisted on taking the photo after a rather successful day of sparring in the shuttle bay, followed by lunch with some of the crew. When they had retreated to her cabin for some down time and to check messages, she had suddenly and inexplicably procured the camera, smiling broadly as she announced their first official "couple photo", whatever that meant. While he looked rather awkward albeit as happy as a man in love does, she had that trademark grin across her face, brightness shining through the photo. Her arm was around his shoulder, while his was around her waist. Thinking back, he could almost still hear the giggle of, "I need to send this to Liara!"

Flipping it over, in her scrawled handwriting, she had inscribed in blue ink, "I love you, always – Quinn" along with a lopsided heart.

Forcibly keeping his grip from tightening around and damaging the photo, Garrus stared at the image for a long time. This was how he remembered her. This was how he would always remember her; the laughter, the warmth, the pure life that flowed from her. This photo was the proof that he had once had felt true, passionate love, and that she had loved him in return. This was the proof of the vibrant woman that, in many ways, only he knew.

Setting his jaw, Garrus took a moment before standing, his eyes never leaving the photo until he safely tucked it away beneath his armor. He looked back to Pepperoni still lying on the floor, bending down to retrieve the tiny plush. Things like this were the remnants of her beautiful nature. The echoes of her that remained.

She had given herself in order for his life – for everyone's – to be a possibility. No matter the pain, he could not abandon such a gift. He had to make sure that what she had given her life for would be worthwhile – not just to him, for the rest of the countless lives she had saved. There was still so much left to do, to repair, to rebuild. For now, he could simply return the favor by keeping these echoes of her life from going silent. For now, he would put one foot in front of the other.

As he continued his work in silence, her words suddenly came to him.

"And if I'm up there in that bar and you're not – I'll be looking down on you. You'll never be alone."

In that same moment, he wished he could repeat his own words to her one more time in turn.

"And when this is over, I'll be waiting for you."

Please let me know what you think, I'm always open for criticisms, but reviews in general are extremely appreciated. :)

I'm still so damaged by this DLC. Oh my god. When I recover from the feelings, I'll try to post more. Hopefully fluffier, less depressing stuff.

Find me on tumblr ~ sassy-spoon