Chapter Text
Garrus knows there are approximately twenty-seven questions he should ask Shepard before he asks the one burning on his tongue.
He should ask for an update on Earth. He should ask how she’s been or how incarceration treated her. He should ask her why she’s on Menae or maybe he even express how happy he is to see her. He should ask why the Council won’t help or how she plans to work around their apathy.
But as they climb a particularly steep hill on their search for Victus and his men, the one question he cannot contain comes spilling out. It seems insignificant and almost silly in light of the Reaper invasion. But it is the one that matters most to him.
“Have you heard from Tali?”
Shepard gives him an inquisitive look as she swings her legs up over the edge of the ridge they’re scaling and pulls herself to the top.
“No,” she admits. “Nobody’s heard from the Quarians in a while.”
“Of course,” he admits. “I just hoped…”
Inadvertently his hand goes to his breast pocket and he feels for the crinkled photograph lying pressed against his chest.
It is an old photo from one of the many military events after Soveriegn’s defeat. In it stands the crew of the Normandy. His arm is slung over Tali’s shoulders (he remembers being a little drunk at this particular celebration), and hers is wrapped around his waist. He remembers her laughter.
It is the only picture he has of the two of them together.
He misses her more than he can bear, and he doesn’t know why.