"You do," he assures her, his tone more amused than anything. "I wasn't there for it, but believe me, I heard." About the I told you so. Because she was right. All of them were. Arriving back home, back on Palaven, it seemed like there was only one person who really listened, really believed the bizarre story Garrus himself was telling.

The irony of it being his father is almost funny, in a sad way. But even so, the token task force, the token acknowledgement from everyone else - he understood even a small portion of the massive frustration Shepard must have always felt. No one was hearing. Until the sky blackened and the horns sounded. Until it was too damn late. Then everyone was looking to him, to them, for some kind of answer he just didn't have.

I like being proven wrong

He leans slightly to one side, so their shoulders touch. The quiet falling into something understanding. At least, in all this, they end up finding each other again. Here, and in the seeming end of their world. No Shepard without Vakarian. No matter how insane it all gets, they seem to have a habit of connecting. It's a comfort, it's a brace.

"I wish I could tell you we were all just crazy," he adds, finally. His eyes are on the skyline - or what's left of it. "That we were wrong... That this isn't what Earth looks like where I'm from. But you know how I feel about lying."

Slowly, he starts to straighten up, rolling his shoulders.

"Can those dogs... see in the dark?"

Well, there's a change of subject. But maybe they've earned it.