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Lantar Sidonis stood alone, mandibles working, fists clenched and staring determinedly at a fixed spot on the floor.
It never got easier, even after getting off Palaven, impossible for most, the war still raged on. He barely had time to process what happened, it all mashed together in his brain in a discordant mix of adrenaline and fear. When the two he saved swam up into his mind's eye, blurry and rough around the edges but their faces stark - wide eyes, blue markings.
Identical to someone he once called his closest friend.
But that was another life, wasn't it?
He didn't dare to believe it was really them, no, that was simply unthinkable. He almost thought the smoke and the firelight were playing tricks on his eyes. The resemblance was a coincidence - a horrible illusion to his guilt, the face that haunted his dreams every night, let alone every moment of his waking hours.
But the name - Vakarian. It stuck in his throat, his chest, froze him in place like he had been skewered. Another hallucination. It had to be.
But he had helped them, illusion or not, as much as he could. It was the least he could do with this miraculous second chance, generously granted to him, unworthy of it as he was.
And so he found himself here, at the end of all things, witnessing a joyous reunion he wouldn't dare partake in. Not that he was allowed to in the first place.
Seeing Garrus for the first time since…everything that happened, was less jarring and gut-wrenching and more hollow. Numb. Dead.
The first time he had felt alive in ages was leading those refugees off Palaven and yet it almost wasn't worth having to face the consequences now. It was worth it, of course, but as he locked eyes with the one person left alive despite his cowardice - a walking, talking reminder of everything he hated about himself - he almost prayed for that bullet.
Accross the room, Garrus finally broke from his family, a father and sister Lantar had come to know fondly until he knew their true relation. Garrus turned toward him, shrunken in the corner, and stared him down. There was no fear, no reluctance. He didnt even seem truly angry. That was the part that rattled Lantar the most.
A few steps closer and he fully came into focus. Silver-gray plates and cobalt blue markings layered thick across his nose, cheek plates and mandibles. A face he never thought he'd see again. A face he never wanted to see again. It turned his stomach.
Garrus fixed ice-blue eyes on him. "Sidonis."
Lantar froze. The tone that rang in his ears was jarring, cold, unfamiliar. He could almost hear his given name on Garrus's tongue as he had a thousand times. But it was clear now. As if even the sight of him now disgusted him. Lantar - a name he would never call him ever again.
Garrus's mandibles twitched, once, twice. He opened his mouth, but it took a second for any sound to escape it, as though he'd forgotten how. Lantar braced himself.
The words finally came, dry and hoarse. "Thank you…for saving my family."
But that's not what his subvocals were saying. They were as loud and clear as if he were screaming it into his face:
I do not forgive you.
Lantar lowered his head, cowing in the presence of such a statement. He swallowed and it stung. His primary vocals couldn't work even if he had wanted them too. Instead he only managed a weak, subharmonic hum.
I'm sorry.
It didn't matter of course, and he knew it didn't. No apology would ever be enough.
Rightfully so.