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Chapter Text

Garrus glanced around his one room apartment and into the empty footlocker lying open on his bed. He’d already had his weapons, armor, and associated gear sent ahead to the Normandy armory but had yet to pack anything else. “Only one standard footlocker for any additional personal items and supplies” the yeoman had instructed him firmly. He gathered from her tone that she'd expected him to test the limit. Garrus rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. He could practically fit everything he owned in one footlocker. Despite having spent most of his life on the Citadel, his apartment looked spartan compared to those of his C-sec colleagues. Former C-sec colleagues. For someone who hated his job, Garrus' quarters had every appearance of a life focused wholly on work. A rarely used (and even more rarely cleaned) kitchen. A layer of dust on everything but the bed, the desk, and the shower. Crates of case files stacked here and there. A desk cluttered with reports. No sentimentality. No chairs for guests. The bed only big enough for one occupant. He'd never quite shaken the norms of life from his military days living in barracks with other soldiers. One footlocker was practically a luxury.

He opened the doors of his wardrobe. Even his three sets of civilian clothing seemed excessive to him, he wore them so rarely. He pulled one of the sets off the hanger and ripped off the price tag still affixed to the collar before tossing it and the other two sets into the footlocker. He added pajamas and undergarments to the heap before closing the now empty wardrobe.

His desk was cluttered with work datapads, mostly dealing with his investigations into Fist and Saren. He gathered them up, and those too went into the footlocker. He hesitated as his eyes fell on a couple pads with information on old cases that he’d been too stubborn to let go of. “ Still too stubborn to let go of,” he said out loud before tucking those pads under the clothes at the bottom of the footlocker.

I guess that’s about it , he thought with a sigh. Not even a family picture or childhood memento. What little relics of his youth he’d kept were in storage at his parent’s home on Palaven, where they’d permanently relocated recently after his father’s retirement from C-sec. He shook his head, thinking of his father. Garrus would have to tell him about his own career change. “That will go well,” he grumbled. Better to get it over with than field an angry call in a few days when Castis would undoubtedly learn about it from Pallin or one of his other old C-sec contacts.

He sat at his desk and dialed up his parents’ comm line on the console. The receiving line promptly beeped and Castis’ face shone on the screen.    

“Garrus! I wasn't expecting a call.” His voice sounded bright. Happy. Garrus would have to ruin that.

“Hey, Dad. You busy?”

Castis’ tensed at Garrus’ tone. “Not at the moment,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to give you some news before you hear it from Pallin.”

His father took a deep breath and exhaled in an exhausted sigh. “Alright, Garrus. Let's hear it.”

Garrus took a deep breath of his own. “I'm taking an extended leave of absence from C-sec. Maybe permanent.”

His father's jaw tightened. “Damn it, Garrus,” Castis growled, his voice charged with familiar anger. “What the hell did you do this time?”

“It's voluntary , Dad,” Garrus said, already feeling drained by the conversation. “I have an opportunity I can't pass up.”

“What kind of ‘opportunity?’"

Where to begin? “Did you catch the news about the first human Spectre?”

Castis narrowed his eyes. “Yes.... Commander Shepard. The Council is sending her after Saren Arturius.”

“That's right. I was conducting an investigation of my own into Saren's dealings on the Citadel when my investigation and hers sort of dovetailed. I helped her expose him to the Council. And… well… she could use my help bringing him down. So I'm going with her.”

“You're leaving your job with C-sec to work with a Spectre ?” he snapped with the expected contempt.

“That's right,” Garrus said flatly.

“A human Spectre?”

“Yeah.”

“Garrus. Of all the impulsive, rash decisions you've made…”

“I need to do this, Dad.” Garrus' voice was calm and firm.

Castis paused for several seconds before speaking again. “ Why ? Why the hell would you need to attach yourself to some reckless human Spectre?”

Garrus felt anger rise unexpectedly in himself at his father’s criticism of the Commander. “Shepard isn't reckless. Look up her record.”

“She's a Spectre. That tells me everything I need to know about her.” He leaned back from the console, and Garrus imagined he’d probably crossed his arms, as he always did when he was determined to hold his ground in their verbal sparring. “Humans in general tend to bully their way through problems. A human Spectre ? That’s a recipe for disaster.

He shook his head. “You sound like a bigot.”

Castis scoffed. “You think she's an exception? That she won't jump at the opportunity to cut corners and knock over anything and anyone that gets in her way?”

“No. She's… not exactly what I’d expected.”

He thought of their first meeting in the Citadel Tower. Shepard was smaller than she’d looked in the footage he'd seen of her defense of Elysium, and he might not have recognized her at all if not for the N7 insignia and stripes on her armor. But, despite her size, she moved with the easy confidence of someone who had total command of their body and any space they moved through. And there was an easy warmth in her body language and the way she spoke to him, a stranger. She was... charming with a presence that reminded him of a large sun-warmed stone: sturdy, inviting, and radiant. As he'd finished telling her about his investigation into Saren, he'd found himself wishing he had more to say to lengthen their conversation. And once she'd left, he'd wished he'd asked to work with her directly in their investigation. A missed opportunity that he'd only have a few hours to kick himself over before another chance presented itself.

When she'd arrived in the medical clinic, biotics hot, a thrill had prickled through him, made all the more intense when she'd lifted her pistol. Damn, she was a hell of a shot, and exactly the diversion he'd needed. But he’d made her angry: shot one of Fist’s men before the hostage was clear. "What the hell were you thinking?"  He was used to being lectured for risky choices, but something about Shepard’s fury, somehow no less warm than her congeniality, had nearly taken his knees out from under him. He’d fumbled for an apology, a course correction, as he’d thought to himself, Please, tell me I haven’t ruined this, uncertain what exactly he was so worried about ruining. To his relief, she'd shaken off her anger quickly.

Garrus redirected his attention back to his father. “Shepard is Level-headed. More compassionate and cautious than your average Spectre. And she accepted Spectre status for the right reasons.”

“And what exactly are the ‘right reasons?’” Castis asked.

Garrus clawed at his desk, hating his father’s tone, and knowing nothing would satisfy him as an adequate defense of Shepard or his choice to join her. “Saren needs to be taken down, Dad. Shepard needs Spectre status to do that. And if some corners have to be cut along the way, so be it.” His father would hate that answer, Garrus knew, but it didn’t matter.

Castis shook his head, fuming. “I really thought you'd have outgrown this attitude by now.”

“Well, I haven't,” Garrus said. He looked away and sighed. “Look, I know you wanted C-sec to work out. And I gave it a try. I really did. But, it's just not a good fit. This Saren case is a perfect example of why. Every step of my investigation: red tape. Meanwhile he's amassing an army, wiping out colonies, and shooting people in the back.”

“You're too damn impatient, Garrus. If you'd just stay in line, do things right instead of fast, you'd--”

Garrus snapped at the familiar criticism. “This isn't about being impatient! It's about a system bogged down with regulations that are designed to keep people like Saren out of the reach of the authorities. I'm not tired of following rules. I'm tired of not being able to help anyone because those rules tie my damn hands! Why can't you understand that?”

The argument was a well-worn path they both knew well. “The rules are there to keep people from abusing their power,” Castis said, and Garrus could hear the sound of his father’s fist pounding on his desk to punctuate his point. “Saren is a perfect example of what happens when there are no checks to power.”

Garrus shrugged. “Sure, maybe... if the rules were written in the spirit of justice and applied to everyone and everyone agreed to follow them, but that's not the way things are. Because of the way the rules are written, the only person who can touch Saren is another Spectre.”

Castis was seething. “So you just double down on the very problem that created Saren? How is that in the ‘spirit of justice?’”

“What's the alternative? We should just sit on our hands while Saren leads a galactic invasion of synthetic forces to wipe out organic life?”

Castis scoffed. “That's preposterous.”

Garrus leaned forward, his hands pressed against his desk. “It's what we're up against, Dad! Tell me, what forms should I fill out to get authorized to arrest him for conspiracy to commit galactic genocide? Form 784B, right?.... No wait, that's for smuggling class 7 citrus fruit.” 

Castis’ temper cooled slightly as he considered his son. “Point taken, Garrus. C-sec isn't equipped to handle this,” he granted. “But that's what the military is for.”

“That's what Spectres are for.”

“ You're not a Spectre, Garrus. You're a hotheaded C-sec agent who doesn't know when to back down.”

“Not anymore. I'm part of Shepard's crew now.” Garrus could feel himself shutting down. Nothing either of them would say would make a difference except to dig a deeper grave for their relationship.

Castis shook his head. “You're abandoning your duty to chase some childish fantasy.”

Garrus looked away. “Think what you want. You're not going to change my mind.”

Castis laughed “When have I ever? Stubborn, rebellious--”

“Bye, Dad,” Garrus interrupted and cut the signal transmission before his father could reply. The conversation had gone about as well as he’d expected, but at least it was done. And so was his packing.

Garrus got up from his chair, closed the footlocker, and picked it up. He gave his small apartment and the life he’d had there one last glance before leaving it behind, the comm beeping behind him as the door snapped shut.

Chapter Text

Garrus grunted slightly at the pain in his side as he disembarked from the mako onto the Normandy deck. Shepard jumped down behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Not bad out there, Vakarian,” she said brightly, and Garrus warmed at the compliment. “Wrex owes you a drink for saving his hump.”

Wrex stomped past them grumbling. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how well he does if I’m not there taking all the heat.”

Garrus laughed and instantly regretted it; the pain in his side flared. He gasped.

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “Not all the heat, apparently,” she said, looking critically at the bullet hole in his armor.

“Just a minor flesh wound. It doesn’t go deep. A little medigel for me, some omnigel for my armor, and I’ll be good to go.”

Shepard shook her head. “Have Doctor Chakwas take a look.”

“It’s nothing, Shepard. Barely more than a scratch. Not worth troubling your medic over.”

“That’s exactly what she’s here for. Get it checked out, Garrus,” she said firmly. “That’s an order.”

He shrank a little. “Yes, Commander. Sorry, Commander.”

Shepard nodded, clapped him on the shoulder again, and headed for the armory. Garrus quickly offloaded his weapons and made his way up to the medbay. He hadn’t yet met the ship’s doctor, but he couldn’t imagine she knew much about Turian anatomy. He honestly felt more comfortable with a tube of medigel. But the last thing he wanted was to give Shepard pause about his respect for her authority. 

He stepped into the medbay and a grey haired human who was sitting at the desk turned to look at him expectantly. “Doctor Chakwas?” he asked.

She stood and smiled. “That’s right. And you must be Agent Vakarian.”

“Yeah. Just 'Garrus' is fine.”

She nodded. “What can I do for you, Garrus?”

He lifted his arm to reveal the bullet hole in his right side. “Commander Shepard told me I should get this wound looked at.”

Doctor Chakwas gestured for him to lie down on the bio-bed. He obeyed, and she lowered the armature of the scanner over him.

Garrus felt a little embarrassed over the fuss. “It's really not that bad, but Shepard was insistent.”

Doctor Chakwas focused her gaze on the scanner readout. “We humans have a saying: better safe than sorry. The Commander doesn't like to gamble with her crew's lives when she can avoid it.”

“Just her own,” Garrus mumbled, thinking of her tendency to push her barriers past their limit. He tensed slightly at the memory. Only a few days into working with Shepard and he’d already seen the Commander a bullet away from death on multiple occasions.

Doctor Chakwas smiled and lifted the scanner out of the way. “I don't think she much likes to gamble with her own life, either. But she does tend to take on the lion's share of the risk… as well as the responsibility for the lives of her crew and completing the mission.”

Garrus nodded. Shepard had a lot on her shoulders: the lives of her crew and possibly the lives of all organic life forms in the galaxy. She had to be a remarkable person to manage the pressure. A person he wanted to know better. “Have you served with her long?” he asked.

“We've done a couple tours together. First aboard the Shenandoah back when she was fresh out of the Academy. Then again aboard the Farragut. And now the Normandy.”

“You must know her well, then.”

Doctor Chakwas shrugged. “I've known her for around eight years, but I'm not sure anyone knows her well . Other than Captain Anderson, perhaps. She isn’t one to open up to her crew, in my experience of her.”

“That's a human thing, right? Officers maintaining a professional distance from the crew under their authority?”

Doctor Chakwas gently removed the plate of his armor that covered the injury and began treating the wound. “It’s true, we do have regulations against fraternization, especially between officers and their subordinates. But I don't think it's that. Not entirely. Shepard makes a point of getting to know the crew quite well, cares about the details of everyone's lives. It's part of her hands-on command style. However, when people try to reciprocate and get to know her, she doesn't reveal much beyond what's in her service record and a few safe interests."

"Safe interests?"

"Mmhmm. She'll happily talk about her love for biotiball and rock climbing. I think I've heard her mention poetry on occasion. But personal details, feelings, her past, loved ones? Never. She's been that way as long as I've known her.” She frowned. “Understandable, really, when you consider what she's been through.”

“What do you mean?”

Doctor Chakwas met his eyes, her brow furrowed. “I don't suppose your people have heard much of Shepard before now."

"Footage of her defense of Elysium made galactic news. But that's about it."

"I see. Well, Shepard's past is common enough knowledge, that I suppose it wouldn't be a breach in confidence to tell you. After all, serving aboard a ship of gossiping humans, you'll likely hear about it sooner rather than later. And every article ever written about the Commander has made some mention of it, I think.” She sighed and resumed treating his injury. “Shepard grew up on a colony out in the Terminus systems that was attacked by Batarians about fifteen years ago. She would have been... about thirteen at the time. A brutal attack. One of the worst in human colonial history. There were only a handful of people who weren't either killed or abducted.” Her voice tensed against building emotion. “I think Shepard lost her whole family in the attack. Her parents, at least.”

"Spirits," he muttered, trying to reconcile what he thought he knew of Shepard with this new information. He was well acquainted with the brutal tactics of batarian slavers from his turian military days. “Was she away from the colony when the attack happened?” he asked, certain she must have been, with as few apparent emotional scars as she had. Maybe she'd been visiting family on Earth. Maybe she hadn't ever been forced to see the aftermath.

“No. She was there,” Doctor Chakwas said darkly while replacing his armor plate. “I'm not sure of the details, or how exactly she survived, but I know it's how she met Captain Anderson. He was part of the rescue mission.” Her voice cracked. “I remember reading the reports and news about the attack. It was horrific. Many people who were only involved in the rescue and recovery efforts had to be treated for PTSD in the years that followed. I shudder to think of the impact it must have had on the actual survivors.... on Shepard.”

Garrus closed his eyes, shaken by his own memories of similar attacks, imagining a young Shepard in the place of the survivors he’d recovered from slaver vessels. She should be broken . “Yeah, Batarian slavers…. They like to make abductions as traumatizing as possible. It puts their surviving victims in a… pliable state of mind. Makes it easier to condition them to submission and subservience. Most survivors from attacks.... well... they have a rough recovery. Though 'recover' is probably too generous a word for it. In most cases.”

Doctor Chakwas shuddered. “So I’ve heard.”

But somehow Shepard was different. Maybe she'd hid from the beginning of the attack, avoided seeing anything. “And you think that's why Shepard doesn't let people get close to her?”

She nodded. “I think the standard ‘getting to know you’ conversation topics are probably a minefield of trauma and vulnerability for the Commander. I doubt she wants her crew to see that side of her.” She stepped back and gestured for Garrus to stand. "You're all stitched up, Garrus. Let me know if it opens back up or causes you any trouble."

He looked down blankly at the bullet hole in his armor. He'd almost forgotten why he'd come to the medbay in the first place. "Thank you, Doctor. I didn't feel a thing."

Chapter Text

An announcement came over the ship’s intercom: Commander Shepard was ashore. Garrus tried to focus on weapon calibrations, but he couldn’t push away the memory of Shepard gently talking down that girl on the docks. He and Tali had waited by the elevator, while Shepard had handled the situation. But she’d neglected to cut the away-party comm link, so they’d heard it all. “Keelah…” Tali had uttered repeatedly, as she’d discovered for the first time a shadow of what their Commander had endured in her childhood. Garrus had just watched and listened, transfixed by the strength and tenderness of this person who, more and more, had him gripped in a state of wonder and admiration. When it was over, she’d looked pale, shaken, but had not said a word about it. She’d carried on her Citadel business, and when she was done, they’d returned to the Normandy. Now she was on the station again. This time alone.

Garrus shook his head. There was no way she was okay. How could she be? Not only had she been forced to dig up traumatizing memories, she’d exposed that trauma to two members of her crew. He doubted she’d meant for them to hear her conversation. The urgency of the situation had no doubt made her overlook the option to mute her comm or she’d forgotten that they were there at all as she focused her attention on the young woman, armed and hurting. Now they knew far more than the official record revealed about Shepard’s history, far more than she’d wanted any of her crew to know. And no doubt she wondered what they made of her now.

He checked the time on his omnitool. It was late. Very late. Where had she gone to? Perhaps to a friend on the Citadel. Someone whose loyalty she knew didn’t hinge on maintaining an idealized and invulnerable version of herself. Or maybe to a dark corner in a bar to numb those vulnerabilities with as much alcohol as it took. He didn’t know her well enough to guess which was more likely, but he’d check the bars. If I find her, I’ll just... buy her a drink? A cup of coffee? Walk her back to the ship? Say... something? He rubbed the back of his neck at the tension and exhaustion gathering there. Or maybe he should just stay out of it.

He made his way to the docking port. Just check in on her , he told himself. I don’t have to say a thing. I’ll wave, and if she waves me over, I’ll join her. Simple. Just a friendly face to keep her company if she wants. It was unlikely he’d even find her. The Citadel had many bars, assuming she even was at a bar. He’d just check the one’s close to the docks. If she wasn’t there, he’d go back to the ship and try to get some sleep himself. An hour looking at the most.

He found her as soon as he exited the ship. Shepard was alone on the docks, standing maybe ten feet from where she’d spoken to the Mindoir survivor a few hours before. She leaned forward against the catwalk railing, looking out over the Citadel metropolis that stretched out below. Her shoulders and back shook slightly. Crying , he thought. This war hero, biotic powerhouse, pistol slinging bad ass was crying. The first human Spectre was crying.

Garrus watched, paralyzed for a moment by the equal pull of an impulse to leave her be and another to be there with her. But something unnameable in him pushed him forward, and before he could mount a defense against it, he was leaning against the railing a couple feet from her. “Hey, Shepard,” he said, with a calm he didn’t feel.

She quickly wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Hey, Garrus,” she said in a voice raspy from crying and lack of sleep. 

She didn’t look at him, and Garrus silently damned himself for bothering her in this vulnerable moment. “Am I intruding?” he asked.

She sniffed again “No, just getting a little air…. What can I do for you?”

She must have thought he was there on ship’s business not as a friend there to be supportive. Who could blame her; they were practically strangers. It was presumptuous of him to expect her to be possibly comforted by his presence. “Nothing. I just…. nevermind.” He took his forearms off the railing and stepped back. “I'll see you back on the ship.”

“Wait,” she said, still staring out over the Citadel. “Stay. Enjoy the view.”

His buzzing nerves quieted at the invitation. This wasn’t the wrong thing to do. She wanted him to stay. He watched Shepard watching ships come and go. There was something compelling about her face: softness, curves, angles. Here and there a scar, light freckling, faint creases at the corners of her eyes and mouth, short brown curls framing her endlessly expressive face. Not beautiful exactly (too alien for that), but intriguing. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lost in the details of that intriguing face, when her bright eyes caught his own in a critical glare. He quickly snapped his gaze to the horizon.

Shepard leaned sideways against the railing, facing him, taking her turn absorbing his features while he squirmed and tried to find the words that would get to the heart of why he’d come out here looking for her. He stole another awkward glance her way, and she smirked at him. The tiny scar on her lip shone white in the artificial light.

“You look like you have something to say, Garrus,” she said, her tone both warm and teasing. “Speak freely.”

“I don't want to overstep.” Or say the wrong thing and end up making things worse.

She rolled her eyes and the smirk spread to a sad smile. “Speak freely, Garrus. I don't bite.”

He pivoted to face her. “Earlier,” he began cautiously. “The young woman you helped.”

Shepard looked back out over the view and frowned. “Talitha,” she said, heavily.

“Yeah,” he continued. “I didn't think you'd be able to talk her down.”

She nodded “It was pretty tense. She was really hurting.”

Shepard was really hurting. “You were incredible, Commander. You said all the things she needed to hear,” Garrus continued. “I don't think anyone else could have saved her.”

Shepard’s expression relaxed a little. “Well,” she said, “I knew a little bit about what she was going through. I’m just glad I was there at the right time to help her.

“Yeah,” Garrus said breathily. “What are the odds? Only a handful of survivors from Mindoir in the galaxy, and there you were, right when she needed you.”

She considered him for several seconds. “I don't suppose you'd ever heard about Mindoir before coming aboard the Normandy.”

He shook his head. “Not specifically. I remember my dad ranting about humans being taken by Batarians in the Terminus systems because the Alliance wasn't strong enough to protect their colonies.” 

Shepard raised her eyebrows.

Garrus winced. “Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that.”

She turned back toward him and crossed her arms. “No, he was right,” she said, her voice tired. “Humans spread out too far, too fast. The Alliance didn't have the ships or people to protect the Terminus colonies so soon after the First Contact Wars. And the response to Mindoir came too late because of it.” She shook her head and looked away. “After Eden Prime, I guess I can't say we've improved our track record much.”

“Eden Prime was… an exceptional case. I may not have heard about Mindoir, but even Turians are familiar with the Blitz and your defense of Elysium. Your colonies have fared much better since then.”

She shrugged. “Wiping out platoons of slave-traders will do that, I guess.”

“You won justice for Mindoir that day, Shepard.”

She tense and turned from him, bracing herself against the railing again. “No, I didn't,” she said, anger or exhaustion sharpening the edge of her words. “Elysium didn't change a damn thing for Talitha; it didn't bring peace or freedom to the dozens of kids taken from Mindoir, sold into slavery, never to be seen again; and Batarian blood didn't raise our dead.”

Garrus watched her intensely, unsure of what to make of her words.

She sighed and some of the tension left her. “But,” she continued. “I'd like to think it might have saved some lives, and maybe saved others from going through what Talitha has… or what I have.” She said the words liked she’d rehearsed them, perhaps a script she’d repeated to herself whenever the guilt of surviving became overwhelming.

“It did,” he said. “ You did. The Batarian slave trade never recovered after the Skyllian Blitz. Neither has their hold in the Terminus systems.”

“That's something, at least.”

“It's a lot, Shepard.”

“Yeah.” She blinked her eyes and a tear escaped. She let it fall.

Garrus cocked his head. “Talking to Talitha today…. it can't have been easy.”

Shepard took a deep breath. “Mindoir is an old wound, Garrus. I've buried my dead. Accepted my survival, for the most part. These days I can even look at Batarians without wanting to rip them apart, usually. I’ve put in a hell of a lot of work to get this far.” She winced. “But the memories are… difficult. Talitha unsettled a few things that I prefer to not dredge up.”

Garrus turned to look back out at the view. He’d edged closer to her without noticing it, and now his arm brushed her shoulder briefly. “I get it,” he said, noticing that Shepard didn’t shift away from their contact. “We tangled with Batarian slavers now and then when I was in the Turian military.” He shook his head. “Those were always the hardest missions. The pirates were at least quick and clean, but the slavers….,” he trailed off. There was no need to elaborate to her of all people what Batarian slavers did. “I can't imagine the strength it must have taken for you to move past it.”

She shrugged and shook her head. “I'm not sure that I'll ever move past it. Not completely. Those scars run deep. Days like today remind me of that.”

He nudged her slightly with his elbow. “But you're still here, Shepard. Still fighting. Everything you've been through… it didn't break you. That in itself is pretty damn remarkable.”

They stood there in a comfortable silence for a while, watching the air traffic and the changing lights of the station emulating a Thesian sunrise. He’d seen hundreds of sunrises on the Citadel, usually on his way to or from work. They were all identical light shows. A single program that ran every day. Beautiful, but boring in the repetition of it. But not this one; something was different. He wondered if they’d changed the program slightly after all these years. Garrus was jostled from his thoughts by the feeling of Shepard’s hand closing around his. He looked to her face, exhausted but smiling. “Thanks for being here, Garrus,” she said. “I should probably go get a nap in before takeoff.”

“Any time, Shepard. I think I’ll stay and watch the rest of the sunrise.”

She nodded and walked away. Garrus looked over his shoulder to watch her board the Normandy. Then his gaze fell to his hand. Still warm.

Chapter Text

Garrus poked at the reconstituted dextro eggs on his plate. He wasn’t a fussy eater, but this was… not ideal. He gazed down the table at the plates of sausage and biscuits his human crew members were enjoying and his shoulders drooped. After weeks of eating the field rations the Alliance requisition officer had procured to meet his particular dietary needs, Garrus was looking forward to the next time they docked at the Citadel and he could get some real food. At least the coffee was drinkable, he thought, taking a sip from his mug.

“I have to admit,” Ashley said from the other side of the table, cheeking a considerable bite of sausage, “Shepard has really changed my mind about biotics.”

“Wow, Chief,” Kaidan said with a snort. “I'm sitting right here.”

She shrugged. “No offense, LT, but most biotics are made of glass. You included. Hell, even Wrex. And the rest of us have to work our asses off to draw fire so you don't get smashed.” She stabbed another bite of sausage with her fork. “ Shepard can hold her own, though.”

“Thanks a lot,” Kaidan grumbled.

“Come on! You have to admit that Shepard is in another league. No biotic could do what she did on Elysium.”

“I don't think anyone could do what she did on Elysium. I mean, do you really think she could have held off that many Batarians without biotic barriers and singularities?”

She swallowed her bite. “Alright, maybe. But that just makes it more impressive. Shepard is unbeatable. A class all her own.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, getting that starstruck look he always did when he talked about Shepard. “I can't say I've ever fought beside anyone like her. She takes some crazy risks but pulls it off every time. Like she's invincible or something.”

The word "invincible" made Garrus bristle.

Ashley gestured at Kaidan with her raised fork. “God's watching over Shepard, that's for sure. No one can touch her. A one-woman army.”

Garrus slammed his mug on to the table, making the flatware rattle. He pointed at Ashley. “And that kind of thinking will get Shepard killed.”

Kaidan looked at him, baffled. “What?”

“If you go into a fight believing that Shepard is invincible, protected by divine influence , and that she doesn't need you to draw fire or watch her back… you might as well turn a gun on her yourself.” He hadn’t intended to put so much anger into his tone, but there it was.

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Jeeze, Garrus. Want some help pulling that stick out of your ass?”

“You don't think Shepard is an exceptional fighter?” Kaidan asked incredulously.

“Of course I do,” Garrus scoffed. “She might even be the best I've ever fought beside. But she has weaknesses. And as the people watching her back, it's our responsibility to know those weaknesses and account for them in a fire fight.”

Ashley leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Alright,” she said, her voice laced with mocking contempt. “So what in your expert Turian opinion are her weaknesses?”

“To start, she wears feather-light armor.”

“Right,” Kaidan said. “She doesn't like the heavier stuff because it interferes with biotics.”

 Garrus leaned forward “Yeah, but when her barriers go down she might as well be wearing paper.” He thought of the way his heart raced in his ears every time her barriers broke. “And Shepard tends to push her barriers past the limit with high risk maneuvers.”

“You think she's reckless?” Kaidan said, unbelieving, contemptuous even.

Garrus slammed his palm into the table. “I think she does whatever it takes to complete the mission and protect people, her crew included, and she takes on a lot of personal risk in the process.... It's only reckless if the people she's depending on to watch her back think that she can take heavy fire.”

“Don't give me that crap,” Ashley snapped. “We watch her back just as well as you do.” 

Kaidan held up his hands in a placating gesture. “It's just a little hero worship, Garrus. No one here is playing games with Shepard's life.”

Garrus wasn’t feeling particularly placated. He stood up, looming over them. “I hope not, because all it takes is one bullet, one instant of thinking she's unstoppable, and your hero joins the honored dead.”

Ashley rolled her eyes again. “You need to chill out.”

He fought the urge to kick her chair over and instead picked up his tray. “Yeah, I'll go do that.” He walked away.

“Damn Turians,” Ashley grumbled as he dumped his untouched breakfast in the trash. “They think they’re the only ones who understand combat. We're trained soldiers just like he is. We know how to watch Shepard’s back. Ass hole.” 

“Yet he's the one Shepard always brings into combat,” Kaidan said. "It's something to think about."

Garrus’ chest puffed up with pride at those words. Damn straight . At least Shepard understood who knew how to watch her back. As long as he was there, she’d be covered.

Chapter Text

Garrus was on his way to the showers when he saw her: sitting alone in the observation lounge, back to the hall, working on a datapad. Or at least he’d told himself he was on his way to the showers. A pretense, if he was being honest with himself. He’d hoped Shepard would be there, as she often was, though not usually this late. They’d fallen into a nightly routine: he’d find her working in the lounge, he’d say hello and take a seat at the other end of the room to read or surf the extranet. He liked being in proximity to her, just being near a friend (or an almost-friend, at least) on a ship full of aliens, most of whom had a few feelings about a Turian being aboard. They’d just sit, silently. Then after an hour or two she’d start rubbing her eyes or yawn, and soon after she’d say goodnight and head to her cabin. Garrus appreciated her quiet company. But something had been needling him that he needed to sort out, needed to understand. Tonight he wanted to talk.   

When he entered the lounge, Shepard turned her head to see who it was. “Hey, Garrus.”

“Shepard,” he responded, walking to the other side of the couch. “You're not much for sleep are you?”

“Still coming down from the last mission... How about you? I’ll admit I don’t know a lot about Turian physiology, but Turians do sleep, right?

“Yeah, we sleep. Just not as much as humans.” He took a seat on the couch. “Well… most humans, anyway.”

She smiled slightly. “We do seem to be on the same schedule.”

“Do you mind some company?” he asked.

“Sure. I’m just finishing submitting a report, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

Garrus didn’t mind. He watched the stars while Shepard worked. Occasionally he stole a glance her way when she moved in his peripheral vision. Every couple of minutes she rolled her right shoulder or her neck and winced. She was feeling the strain from a long and grueling day. He wondered idly how humans worked out the tension and kinks in their muscles. A hammer to the carapace was hardly an option. It would have to be deep, slow pressure by hand, firm but gentle to not damage that soft, smooth skin of hers…. Of theirs. Soft smooth skin of any human. Oh look, a shooting star .

Shepard put aside the datapad and smiled. “That took longer than expected.”

“It always does,” he said. “Add that to the list of things I don't miss about C-sec: all the reports.”

She leaned back, angled toward him, and crossed her legs. “I don’t know. I usually find it's a nice way to decompress after a mission. Put all my thoughts in order. Get a bit of closure.”

“That’s a positive way of looking at it. I always felt like reports were meant to give the higher ups an opportunity to second guess my every decision.”

Shepard nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get that. I've had a couple uncomfortable debriefs when missions have gone south. But I've been lucky that my commanding officers have generally trusted my judgment.”

“Well-earned trust, I'm sure,” he said. “How do you think they'll respond to the last mission?”

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “You mean will they be upset that I didn't take Balak into custody?”

He nodded.

She cringed. “Not an ideal outcome, I admit.” She searched his face, and Garrus wondered if she could decode his feelings from the angle of his mandibles. “I suppose you're probably frustrated that I let him go,” she said at last.

She was right. “It's… not the choice I expected you to make.”

“Why is that?”

“Your history with Batarians,” he said, frustration winning out over his intention to be delicate. “You know better than anyone how dangerous Balak is. He's responsible for a lot of dead humans…. He'll probably be responsible for a lot more.”

She crossed her arms and smiled thinly, her nostrils flared. “Who needs higher ups to second guess my actions? My crew will do it for them.”

He’d said the wrong thing. Overstepped. Damn . “Sorry, Commander. I didn't mean--”

She held up her hand and cut him off. “It's fine, Garrus. I don't expect my every decision to sit well with you or anyone else.” She rubbed the back of her neck, that spot where the tension and strain of the day had settled. “I take it you would have let the hostages die?” she asked him.

Her chosen framing of the question perturbed him, but he bit the bullet. “To take down Balak? Yeah. They were necessary casualties.”

“They weren't ‘necessary casualties,’ evidenced by the fact that they are alive ,” she said, with more disgust in her tone than he had heard from her before. “I had a choice, kill Balak or save civilians. I chose the civilians.”

“But now Balak is out there!” he snapped back.

“And so are those civilians!” Shepard glared daggers at him, flushed as her anger reached a peak. Then she sighed, shook her head, and the fury seemed to abruptly fall away from her. “Look,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I get where you're coming from. Balak is dangerous. I'm sure the Alliance brass will agree with you that letting the civilians die in order to take him out would have been a reasonable cost…. Hell, part of me agrees with you. Sometimes we have to make the hard calls: sacrifice lives to save others down the line.”

Garrus relaxed, relieved that she did understand where he was coming from. “Then why let him go?” he asked

“Because I don't know what will happen with Balak,” she said, turning her head to look out at the stars. “He might get taken out tomorrow. He might lose status and power in the Hegemony due to his failure today. He might go on to kill millions. There are countless possibilities that I can't possibly account for.” She sighed. “Choices like this would all be a hell of a lot easier with a crystal ball.”

“A what?”

She smirked and turned to face him. “Sorry. A human expression. I mean, if I could see all possible futures laid out like a road map, it would be simple to just pick the right path. But without that power to see the consequences, the good and bad of every choice, it's all hypothetical.” Her eyes, nose, and mouth tensed, in the way he’d begun to think of as her commander face. “ Except for the lives of the people we saved by letting Balak go,” she said with disarming conviction. “ They aren't hypothetical. And it's not just hypothetical families and friends who are welcoming them home right now.”

Her words sent a thrill through him. She was so at odds with the rigid philosophies that had shaped his life: duty above all, the brutal calculus of war, the insignificance of the individual. Her way of seeing things was inspiring, if a little unsettling. But she was not thoughtlessly ideological in her ethical convictions. She was right: the consequences of Balak living or dying weren’t certain. It was a tough call either way, and neither of them could know yet if it was the right one. 

“Yeah,” Garrus said, wonder and admiration brightening his voice. “I think I understand where you’re coming from. I guess even if Balak does go on to kill again, it still counts for something that we saved those people today.”

She smiled. “Damn right it does.”

“And it's not like the Batarians would promote a nice guy into Balak's position if you had killed him. Somehow I suspect the Hegemony has monsters to spare.”

“I suspect you're right,” she said darkly.

“Still, I wish we could have taken him out and saved the civilians. The injustice of him still breathing when so many of his victims aren't….” He sighed, feeling the familiar sting of being forced to let someone truly dangerous out of his scope. “It's a lot to sit with.

Shepard nodded. “It is.” Her expression took on a distant aspect, thoughtful. “But justice for the dead isn't as straightforward as just executing their killers. Do you think Kate's brother would rest easier if his sister had died so Balak could be brought to justice?”

“No,” he granted, “I don't suppose he would. He recalled his conversation with Shepard on the docks: Shepard adamant that her victory on Elysium didn’t win justice for the victims of Mindoir. “So what's the answer then? How do the dead find justice?”

Shepard looked out at the stars again. “I don't know, Garrus. I’m not sure they really can. But I hope the dead are beyond worries of vengeance.” Her eyes were glassy, and Garrus worried that he might have struck too close those old wounds that still haunted Shepard.

“You’re probably right,” he said, giving her a chance to end the conversation there.

“If the dead do watch over us,” she continued, her voice soft and low, “I like to think what they'd most want is to see us… the people who survive them… heal... to see the grip of pain and anger and fear loosen and eventually release it's hold on us…... And maybe through the peace the living find, the dead can find some too.”

“Do you believe Kate will be able to find peace after all she's been through?” Garrus asked, his real question hidden beneath, personal and intimate.

Shepard’s nostrils flared. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, holding back the full weight of feeling that threatened her composure. “I do,” she said. “It won't come all at once. It may take a lifetime and a lot of work.... But I have to believe that we all can find our way to peace, no matter how long and difficult the journey.”

“Yeah,” Garrus said warmly. “I believe she'll get there, Shepard.” And he hoped with his entire being that it was true.

Shepard smiled softly and sadly.

Chapter Text

A friendly drink. “A sanity check.” That’s what Kaidan’s email to the crew had called it. “Just a little shore leave to blow off steam and unwind a bit.” Getting drunk in a loud bar wasn’t exactly Garrus’ idea of blowing off steam, but he’d give it a shot. Most of the crew still seemed relatively unsure of what to make of the Normandy’s resident Turian, and a drink on the Citadel could help remedy that. And Shepard might come , he thought to himself.

But she didn’t. “I’ll hold down the fort while you all have some fun. You’ve earned it!” her message had said. So there he was, at a table in a loud bar, club music bass pulsing uncomfortably, Turian ale in hand, with three humans who didn’t didn't like him, a Krogan who didn’t like him, and an Asari who had never said a word to him. It sounded like the start of a bad joke. 

For the first fifteen minutes he silently drank while the humans chatted about their favorite bars on Arcturus station, and Wrex silently snarled at him from across the table. When Tali finally showed up he breathed a sigh of relief. Besides Shepard, Tali was the closest thing he had to a friend aboard the Normandy. She was a young, energetic, sociable chatterbox who reminded him a bit of his sister, Sol. Once Tali had downed half a glass of triple-filtered Turian Brandy though a sterilized straw, she proved to be exactly the life this party sorely needed. For a few minutes, Garrus was even having fun. After another half a glass, things edged back toward awkward.

“What do humans find attractive?” she asked Kaidan pointedly after ordering another drink.

“What?” Kaidan laughed.

“I'm curious!” she whined. “I've been studying your people to try to understand you better. But I can't find much consistent information about relational cultural norms, such as attraction .”

Ashley exchanged a glance with Kaidan. “And you need to know this because….”

“Science!” Tali said, raising her glass over her head. “I need to understand human relational dynamics to best acclimate to the social conditions of a human vessel.”

“Uh huh,” Ashley grunted dubiously.

“Uh… well,” Kaidan began, stifling a laugh. “We can't answer for our whole species; Attraction sort of varies from person to person. Some like hair, some like legs...”

“Some like Shepard,” Ashley added under her breath. Garrus sat up a little straighter.

“Well, what do you like, Kaidan?” Tali asked, teasing.

“Shepard,” Ashley answered for him.

“Can it, Chief,” Kaidan snapped back.

Ashley held up her hands in surrender.

“I don't know,” Kaidan continued. “I guess I find adventurous, confident people attractive. Integrity is important too. And, you know, having a few interests in common. Things like that.”

“I mean physically ,” Tali said, leaning forward against the table. “For Quarians it's all about the shoulder, waist, hips ratio.”

“Uh. Alright. Again, there's no hard fast rule here… but, to me, lean and toned is attractive… Not so much into the muscle-bound look. I'm not terribly picky about gender or specific… anatomy, but I guess I generally go for people on the androgenous side.”

“So... Shepard?” Ashley said with a wicked smile.

Garrus laughed with everyone. Kaidan didn’t have to say anything. They had all seen the pining glances, the flustered conversation. The profuse sweating. The lieutenant wore his feelings on his sleeve.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Kaidan said, rolling his eyes and holding up his hands to silence the laughter. “Yes. Shepard is very attractive. Okay?”

“But not all humans would agree?” Tali asked.

“Uh. Probably not,” Kaidan said.

Tali turned abruptly to Joker. “Do you find Shepard attractive?”

“Yeah, I'm not going there,” Joker said, focusing his attention on his beer.

“You are no fun!” Tali grumped, waving him off. “Ashley, what do you think?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I'm only into men who can bench press me.”

“Ha! I'd bet Shepard could biotically lift you and all your friends without breaking a sweat,” Kaidan responded.

“Yeah, no. I like good, old fashioned, hard won, muscle…. And big dicks.”

Kaidan choked on his drink, while Wrex patted him on the back, laughing loudly.

“So you have a fetish for large musculature and penises. Interesting ,” Tali said, slightly slurred, before turning to Liara. “What about you, Doctor T’soni?”

Liara blushed. “I thought you were trying to determine what humans find attractive.”

“Well, now I'm trying to determine who on the ship is attracted to Shepard .”

Her blush deepened as everyone stared at her expectantly. “The Commander has... many admirable features.” 

“That's a yes,” Tali said, while the rest of the table hooted goodnaturedly. “Wrex?” Tali continued around the table, and Garrus’ stomach turned as he realized he would be next.

“Hard pass,” Wrex answered. Too tiny. I like women who can handle my… girth.” He winked at Ashley.

“In your dreams, old man,” Ashley shouted over the din.

Then Tali turned to Garrus, and he was certain she was grinning mischievously under that mask. “ Garrus ?” came the expected question in the most saccharin of tones. “What about you ?”

Garrus cleared his throat. “I… uh… I don't really know how to assess human attractiveness,” he fumbled.

“It's not about assessment , Garrus. It's about whether or not when you look at Shepard certain…  base urges come up.”

It had been known to happen. He thought briefly of how it might feel to slide his tongue along Shepard's clavicle, the almond scent of her soap tickling his nose as he ever so gently licked his way to the well of her throat. “I think I'm with Joker on this,” he said, willing his voice not to quiver. “Best not to go there.”

He was sure Tali was about to press him further when Ashley derailed her. “What about you , Tali? Does Shepard give you certain base urges?”

Tali made a show of considering the question carefully while the others laughed and exchanged looks. “Hmm… well,” she began. “Human legs are all wrong… but if I look past that… absolutely .”

Garrus snorted.

“Her ‘ratios’ are right?” Ashey asked, with a hint of venom.

“Not exactly, but she has other qualities that... transcend species.” She really did.

“Such as?” Kaidan asked with a smirk.

“She's the captain of a fast ship,” Tali said with a shrug. Garrus would have gone with Shepard’s wicked aim with that pistol of hers... but sure, the ship was nice too.

“So you have a fetish for ships and their commanders?” Ashley said. “ Interesting .”

"I'm the one who flies the thing," Joker grumbled from the far end of the table.

"Yes, but Shepard commands it," Tali said dramatically. Garrus found himself nodding in agreement, which, when he spotted Wrex watching him critically, he tried to pass off as a head bop to the club music that was playing over the bar speakers.

Suddenly all of their omni-tools pinged simultaneously, signaling the approaching curfew. "And with that ," Kaidan said, silencing his alarm. "Time to head back to our fast ship and attractive commander to get some shut eye and sober up before we say anything more we’ll regret."

The others booed Kaidan, but they began to head out. It hadn’t been such a terrible gathering. Awkward, but not terrible. There was even something oddly reassuring about hearing the others express admiration for the Commander’s attributes. She had a magnetic effect. So what if he was a little attracted to Shepard? Not even attracted, really. Just... appreciative…. And a little curious. Totally normal.

“You are a liar,” a voice hissed behind him.

He looked over his shoulder at Tali. “I'm a what?”

“A liar ,” she said, stumbling a little.

“When did I lie exactly?” 

“Pretending that you aren't attracted to Shepard,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “Lies!”

He shook his head and turned from her. “I'm going to bed, Tali.”

“To dream of Shepard?” she teased.

He was more irritated by her drunken jibing than he should have been. “ Why exactly are you so stuck on Shepard tonight?”

She leaned on his arm and whispered. “There is a quiet contest for Shepard's heart happening. Everyone thinks it's between Kaidan and Liara. But my credits are on a secret third contestant.” She poked him in the side.

He snorted at the implications and shook her off. “I'd bet on Kaidan, if I were you, Tali.”

“Come on!” she howled in exasperation. “You can't tell me you're not interested. I've seen you talking late at night, looking at the stars together.”

Spirits . “I'm not making a play for Shepard, Tali. We're friends.”

She tutted him. “And with an attitude like that, you'll stay that way.”

He held up his arms in an exaggerated shrug and turned, backing away from her. “Fine with me.”

“Liar!” she shouted after him.

Tali was drunk, and she was wrong. He wanted nothing but friendship from Shepard. It’s totally normal to think of licking your friends, right ? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be joining the contest for Shepard’s heart. Friendship was plenty.

Chapter Text

Garrus’ omnitool pinged him. 2400 hours. Shepard would be settling into her favorite couch in the lounge to get some work done. “I know it’s silly,” she’d told him a few nights before, “but I just feel too antsy in my quarters to get anything done. I guess I’m just used to working in common areas. It’s what I’ve always done. It’s hard enough to sleep in the captain’s cabin, never mind focus on work.” He understood without the need for elaboration. She was born to command, he was certain of that; he’d yet to meet a general with Shepard’s natural gift for it. But having her own ship and all the trappings that would ordinarily be reserved for a captain? That was still new and uncomfortable to Shepard, though she hid it well. 

He also suspected that being in those quarters might remind her of the man she’d supplanted. Not her fault, the entire crew agreed on that front, but still, she was the type to take on guilt regardless of whether or not she was to blame. And if writing reports in the observation lounge helped her feel a little less guilty, Garrus was more than happy to share the space and her company. So after silencing the alarm on his omnitool, he packed up the rifle mods he’d been tinkering with, and made his way to her.

“Hey, Garrus,” she said without even looking up from her work.

“How'd you guess?” he asked as he entered the room.

She watched as he took a seat next to her on the couch. “The sound of heavy armor shifting. Had to be you, Ashley, or Wrex; and Wrex and Ashley are both stompers. You glide.”

A pleasant, nervous heat thrilled through him. She noticed I glide . Looking at her easy smile and relaxed posture, Garrus was further brightened. She was happy. Not her usual affect. He nodded toward the pad still in her hand. “Reading anything good?”

She tapped the pad against her knee. “A letter from my brother-in-law.”

He stiffened. In-law: family by way of marriage . Her spouse’s brother. How was he only hearing about this now? “Oh.” he said, hoping she didn’t notice the squeak in his subvocals. “I… uh… didn't realize you were married, Shepard.”

She laughed. “No, I'm not married. Curtis was my brother's husband. I've known him my whole life.”

He relaxed a little. “Right. Sorry. Translator didn’t catch the distinction.” Why would it even matter if she was married? he thought, chastising himself for his sense of relief. He had no romantic intentions with Shepard. Friends. They were friends.

“I get the confusion; there’s no distinction in English. And it's not like we've talked about my family."

Garrus watched her face solemnly, noticing that shadow that passed over her whenever she thought of Mindoir, though her smile held out. 

"Sam…" the name took effort to say. "That's my brother's name. He and Curt got married young... the day Sam turned eighteen… right before we moved to Mindoir. Rushed it a bit so Curt could count as family to meet the colonization restrictions.” She broke eye contact, and her smile faltered. “Curtis was away when the Batarians attacked. It's… it's just the two of us now.”

Garrus nodded. “Where is he now?” he asked.

The shadow over her features lifted a little. “Earth. Alliance R&D. He was part of the team that designed the Normandy's stealth systems.”

“Impressive,” Garrus said genuinely. “He must be good.”

Her eyes lit up. “He’s great . One of the top specialists in the Alliance. Busy though." She chuckled. "I suppose he'd say the same about me. I don't get to see him as often as I'd like, but we keep up over the extranet, and I like to think that he’s part of the Normandy, looking out for me, keeping me safe.”

“I bet he likes that too.” If helping keep Shepard safe made Curtis half as proud as it made Garrus, he must.

“He does. Says he joined R&D because developing more advanced starships was the only way he could make sure I stayed in one piece out here.” Shepard shook her head and cringed. “He hated when I joined the Alliance. It's the only thing we've ever really fought about. Still do, sometimes.”

“It must be hard for him, knowing that someone he loves is throwing herself into danger every day.” His throat tightened a little at the words. Loving someone like Shepard would hurt.

She frowned. “Yeah. He says his stomach drops every time his door chimes, certain it will be an Admiral with a folded flag and my dog tags in a box.”

“Good reason to stay alive. Keep those dog tags where they belong.”

“Absolutely.” She looked at him warmly. “Are you close with your family?”

It was Garrus’ turn to cringe. “My family relationships are… a little strained. I get along okay with my sister and my mother, but they don't really understand me. And my father… he and I don't see eye to eye about… well… anything. Last I heard from him, he was taking it pretty hard that I'd left C-sec to work with you.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Why? Because I'm human?”

“That's probably part of it.” Definitely a part of it. “But mostly it's because he hates the extralegal freedom of the Spectres. He thinks everything should be done by-the-book, and if you have to cut corners or break rules to reach an objective, then you should abandon the objective…. He's a big part of why C-sec is a maze of red tape.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “He's in C-sec?”

He nodded. “Retired. But he worked for them most of my life. He’s sort of a legend.”

“Why did you choose to join C-sec, then? If you don’t mind my asking.” It was a fair question. Why jump into a career where the parent with whom you disagreed on everything was a legend? Why choose to work with a father who’d found fault with all you did and believed? Why if you hated rigid structure and inflexibility would you pick a profession defined by rigid rules and inflexible protocol?

He sighed. “I wanted to help people, and my dad convinced me C-sec would let me do that. I should have known better, but, being his son, my perspective was… colored by him. In reality, with all the rules and red tape, it's easier to bust a duct rat for vagrancy than it is to get them safe lodging. And the real criminals-- red sand profiteers, well-connected killers, mercenaries, and people like Saren-- are damn near impossible to get to.

“That sounds really frustrating.” Tension in Garrus’ chest he hadn’t even noticed before abruptly released at those words. Every time he'd said as much to his father and C-sec superiors, he'd been fed some line about duty, the purpose of the chain of command, and the necessity of the endlessly rigid rules. But Shepard understood.

Shepard’s sympathy emboldened him to open up more. “I kept thinking, if I just toughed it out, played the game long enough to rise in the ranks, I'd be able to change things. But the higher up the ladder I went, the thicker the red tape got, strangling my spirit more and more every day…. I think it was killing me.” His stomach twisted at the admission. Too much? But her gaze was caring and concerned. Not a trace of judgement in those warm grey eyes. So he kept going. “Until you came along, it had been ages since I'd last felt like I'd actually helped someone.”

A shadow of a smile, compassionate and gentle, graced Shepard’s downturned lips. “And your dad doesn't understand your feelings about C-sec?”

He scoffed at the idea of his father understanding anything about him. “No. He doesn't. He thinks I'm contemptuous of the rules to spite him, or because I'm too impatient or hot-headed to do things the ‘right way.’”

Her face scrunched up in appreciated disgust. “That’s pretty harsh. He really says things like that to you?”

Garrus nodded wearily. “Like I said, we don't see eye-to-eye.”

Shepard chewed on the inside of her cheek and snorted. “Ironically, Saren does sort of prove your dad's point about Spectres. If Saren had more oversight, and fewer extralegal freedoms, he might not be a problem now.”

“You could be right about that,” Garrus said with a prickle of irritation. “But you're proof that corruption and abuse of power doesn't necessarily follow from removing restraints. When you cut corners, you save lives. And I've yet to see you abuse your Spectre status.”

A distinct rosiness bloomed on Shepard’s cheeks. “Maybe if we take Saren down and save the galaxy your dad will shift his perspective a little.”

"I doubt it," Garrus snorted. "No offense, Shepard, but, even with all the good you do, I doubt he'd like you very much. Just on principle." 

Shepard smirked. “I don't know, Garrus. I'm pretty damn charming. I win over most people in the end.” She looked up at the ceiling and waggled her head side to side, considering. “The ones I don't shoot, anyway.”

He laughed. “I believe it. But Castis is, as you humans say, a tough nut to crack.” 

Chapter Text

“That’ll do it!” Kaidan shouted triumphantly from inside the mako, while Garrus stood back admiring his work.

“Still needs a proper field test.”

Kaidan laughed. “Plenty of opportunity for that. I’m sure Shepard would be more than happy to take it through its paces.” He jumped out of the mako and landed on the deck.

Garrus nodded, thinking of the way Shepard growled and gritted her teeth every time the mako couldn’t quite make it up an incline. The new jets would remedy that. He held out a hand to Kaidan. “Thanks for the assist, Alenko.”

Kaidan shook his hand firmly and smiled. “Any time, Garrus. If this mod of yours works out, we’ll all owe you one.”

“What’s going on here?” Shepard’s voice came from the elevator.

Garrus turned to see her walking their way, curious interest playing on her face, as she bent sideways to get a better view of the new jets extending from the back of the ground vehicle.

“Just a little surprise Garrus cooked up,” Kaidan said.

She straightened up and beamed at Garrus with a broad, toothy smile that made his limbs feel as loose and wobbly as the ramen these humans were always eating. “Are those turbo jets?” she asked in a voice that buzzed with excitement.

He nodded. “The terrain we face… we needed the upgrade.”

Shepard did an odd little happy dance, jumping on her tiptoes and punching the air. A squeal escaped her. “ Hell yes! You are officially my favorite crew member, Garrus!”

“Hey,” Kaidan laughed. “I helped, you know.”

Garrus rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the vehicle, trying not to notice the warmth tingling through him. “It was nothing, really. Just a few calls to find the parts, a little modification to fit the mako, and some calibrating it to our systems.”

“He’s being modest,” Kaidan said. “He’s been working on it for weeks. Skipped shore leave yesterday to finally get it installed.” He clapped Garrus on the back. “And you should see this guy calibrate! The mako is running tighter than it ever has.”

Their eyes locked, and Garrus hoped she couldn’t read the slack angle of his mandibles. “Thank you,” Shepard said sincerely. “Both of you.”

“We still need to do a field test,” Garrus said, feeling distinctly awkward in the face of her gratitude. “Somewhere with steep inclines.”

Shepard nodded. “Kaidan? Help Joker find an appropriate testing site, will you?”

“Sure thing, Commander,” Kaidan said. He got on the elevator, leaving Garrus and Shepard alone.

Shepard circled the mako, still smiling. “This really is impressive work, Garrus. The installation is seamless.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice. System modulation and calibrations were one of my primary duties in my military days.”

She looked at him with her eyebrows raised curiously. “You were an engineer?”

“Yeah. Specializing in weapons systems.”

Shepard sauntered toward him, a half smile on her face. “I’m impressed! You’re a man of many talents, Mister Vakarian.”

He laughed nervously. “No, mostly just shooting and calibrations.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I know that’s not true.”

“You’re right. I’m also good at reaching things on high shelves.”

Shepard took a step closer, and looked up at him through a veil of lashes. “I’m sure I’ll find uses for all your talents before we’re done,” she said in a low voice, tilting her head. He’d seen this body language from other humans. Doctor Michel, the occasional human he’d rescued from pirates. Always with vocal expressions of gratitude. Shepard was grateful for his work on the mako, that was all.

Garrus swallowed a lump that was thickening in his throat. Why did her gratitude make him so nervous? “I… uh… I hope you do,” he stammered. “Make use of my talents, that is. I’m here to help in any way I can.”

She bit her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes, considering him critically. “Glad to hear it, big guy. Next time I need a step stool, I’ll come to you instead.”

“Ha!” he laughed, grateful for the joke to break his tension. “You know where to find me.”

Shepard nodded and made her way slowly back to the elevator, hips swaying as she walked.

Chapter Text

From his seat in the mess hall, Garrus had been staring at the medbay doors for over two hours. His tea had grown cold, and the automated ship lights had switched to night-mode. Still the doors remained shut. What was taking so damn long? “A few scans. Just to make sure,” Doctor Chakwas had assured Shepard as she’d urged the commander from the staff meeting toward the medbad. A few scans, but still the doors were shut. Had there been a complication after all?

Shepard hadn’t looked well after the Asari on Feros had given her the cipher, despite her assurances to the contrary. White as the sands of Kahje, the slightest shake to her hands, and a pinched tightness around her eyes. And then Liara had insisted on another go at “embracing eternity” in the middle of the debrief session. Important for the mission, so of course Shepard had consented. But surely it could have waited until after she’d had some time to rest and recover.

And why did no one but Garrus and the Doctor seem at all concerned? Even Kaidan was more worried about Liara than Shepard. They were all so certain of the commander’s invincibility that it didn’t occur to them that Asari were biologically suited to process complex telepathic information, while humans were not. Liara may not have been as practiced as Shepard at hiding pain and fatigue, but he’d bet that if the Prothean cipher was draining for Liara to process, it had been at least as taxing on the commander’s physiology.

Still the doors remained shut. I should go to bed , he thought to himself. I’m not helping a damn thing door-watching all night . But once he rose from his seat, he aimed himself toward the medbay instead of the barracks. The doors automatically opened at the approach of his purposeful walk. And before he could react, his chest collided roughly with the nose of his commander on her way out.

The force sent her stumbling back, and Garrus grabbed her upper arms before she completely lost her footing. “I’m sorry, Shepard,” he said, righting her. “Are you okay?”

She rubbed her nose, thankfully not bloody or broken, and made a grumpy little grunt that struck him as cute. “You know, this is the kind of thing that happens when you walk around the halls wearing heavy armor. Uniforms have a little more give.” 

He let go of her arms and rapped on the front of his chest plate. “Hmm. On the other hand, if you were wearing heavy armor, too, a head on collision probably wouldn't have hurt.

She laughed. “Only if I was wearing a helmet!” She began to edge to the side. “I'll just get out of your way,” she muttered.

“I was actually just on my way in to… uh… check on you,” he said, embarrassment buzzing in his subvocals. 

Shepard’s eyebrows lifted, expectant.

“I was concerned after what happened on Feros,” he continued, unable to look at her while he said it. “And then with Liara… And you'd been in sickbay for awhile, so I thought I'd just see how you were… you know… doing.” He cleared his throat, unsure of how she might receive his confession. Was he crossing a line? Fretting too much over his commanding officer?

She smiled warmly, and he relaxed. “Thanks, Garrus. I'm okay. Just a hell of a headache, and a bunch of unsettling visions.” She swung her head in the direction of the mess hall, and he followed her as she walked to the kitchenette and proceeded to pour herself some herbal tea from the dispenser. “The doctor helped with the headache, at least.”

He followed her to a table. “But not the visions, I guess?”

They each took a seat across from one another and Shepard shrugged. “Doctor Chakwas ran about every test she could think of. But yeah, the standing conclusion is that I’m stuck with them.” Shepard sighed. “Like I needed more nightmare fodder.”

He nodded, understanding what she’d left unsaid: Shepard was haunted by enough ghosts without adding those of a dead civilization to the mix. Nevermind the comparatively ordinary horrors of her daily life. “Even without Prothean visions,” he said, offering a segue to less traumatic territory, “that fight with the thorian is one that might keep us all up tonight.”

Shepard shuddered. “Yeah, no kidding. Being vomited on by plant-infected zombies isn’t something they’d mentioned in the Feros tourism brochure.” 

He laughed. “I wonder if I can get my deposit back on the vacation package?”

She smiled wanly and took a sip from her tea. “It occurs to me,” she said, leaning forward with her elbows against the table, mug held in both hands, “with the kind of combat we ended up facing, I probably didn't need to bring my favorite sniper along for that particular mission. Could have saved you some bullets... and some restless nights.”

He shook his head emphatically, verging on desperately. “Going into an unknown scenario, it makes sense to cover your bases, Shepard. You know that. Besides, you're unmatched at crowd control; they barely touched me.” 

She set down her mug and let out a relieved exhale. “Good. The last thing I want is to put anyone in a situation they can't handle.” She locked eyes with him. “But no one watches my back as well as you do.”

There she went again, turning his guts to jelly. “I’m glad to do it,” he said, impressing himself with how relaxed he sounded.

“Still,” she added, holding up her hands. “I know I've been relying on you pretty heavily. It's okay to tap out. Everyone's entitled to a breather.”

“You don't get to tap out.”

“True,” she granted with a single nod. “But I have the keys to the ship. When I need a break, I park her. The rest of you don't have that luxury.”

He almost laughed out loud at the idea of Shepard giving herself a break. She’d worked through nearly every hour of shore leave the crew had been granted. Where was her concern for her own breaking point? “You don't have to worry about me burning out, Shepard," he said. "To be honest, I find fighting at your side... invigorating.”

She smirked and leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. “‘Invigorating,’ huh? If you were human, I'd think you were flirting with me, Vakarian.”

Panic buzzed through him. “Oh!... Uh… Sorry, Commander. I didn’t….” He paused and took a deep breath to steady himself. Just another miscommunication. Shepard would understand, right? “Spirits,” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it, Garrus,” she laughed. “I’m sure you would never flirt with me on purpose.”

“Right,” he said, shoulder’s dropping in relief. “Uh… where was I?”

“Invigorating ,” she offered, still smirking.

“Yes. Uh. What I meant was, when we're out there, it feels like we're really accomplishing something. And that's the best remedy for burnout I can think of. Like on Feros, we were only there for a day, but we made a real difference in that time.”

Her half smile softened and faded. “That's always the hope,” she said.

He leaned forward. “It's more than a hope. You just… do it. Everywhere you go, people lay problems at your feet, like they know the second they see you that you're the hero they've been waiting for. And you don't snap at them, or blow them off, or tell them you're busy with bigger things. You take on their problems, and you just… fix them. Within a couple hours of landing on Feros, you'd secured food, water, and power for Zhu's Hope, not to mention repelled a Geth invasion. And then while the colonists were shooting at you , you saved them from the Thorian.

"We did that. You, me, and Tali." 

“We did.” He shook his head and his gaze fell to the table between them. “But the truth is, without you giving the orders, I would have stayed focused on the main objective. And when we ran out of those grenades to knock out the enthralled colonists… Let's just say this all would have played out very differently if I'd been in charge.”

“You're sending mixed signals, now… Do you disapprove of the calls I made on Feros?”

His eyes snapped back to her face: brows pinched, down-turned lips. “Not at all,” he reassured her. “Like I said, it's invigorating to help people directly the way we have been. But in your place…. I don't think I have the necessary moral conviction-- or courage, maybe-- to take the risks you're willing to take.” He sighed. He wanted so much for Shepard to think well of him, but there it was: his failure, his inadequacy, his hypocrisy, laid bare before her. “For all my big talk about taking risks, and breaking rules, I guess when it comes down to it, I’m still stuck on doing things by the book…. Ha! I’m a better Turian than I thought.” 

Shepard reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “Hey,” her voice, like her hand, was gentle, warm, grounding. “Go easy on yourself, Garrus…. You don't lack moral conviction or courage.”

“I don’t know, Shepard.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “I think maybe all that time working in C-sec and the Turian military, even living under the influence of your father, has taught you not to trust your convictions... You've been working all your adult life through systems that discourage deviation from convention and teach you to be risk-averse. You’ve internalized it. And it's understandable that you might feel conflicted now.”

He nodded, thoughtful, appreciative. “Ironic that I've spent so much of my life feeling suffocated by convention and risk-averse rules that get in the way of helping people, and now I don't know how to act without them.”

She smiled softly. “You’ll get there. Just give yourself time.”

“How do you do it, Shepard? With the importance of our core mission, to take on all that additional risk....”

She let go of his hand and leaned back in her chair. Garrus felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of their contact.

She sat thoughtful for several seconds before answering. “I guess,” she began, “for me there's always the main objective... and then there are all the reasons the objective matters, reasons I don't want to lose sight of by focusing too much on the big picture.”

“Such as?” he pressed.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Well… Stopping Saren and the Reapers, it only matters because the people who are put in danger by that threat matter. Their survival, their connection, their joy, their work, their problems, their freedom, it all matters.... I didn’t join the Alliance or the Spectres because I like fighting or am a glutton for glory. I'm not even here out of a sense of duty to the Alliance or the Citadel. I'm here because people-- humans and aliens-- matter and are worth protecting…. So why wouldn't I make sure they have water and power…” she smirked, “or the data off their work computer? If they didn't matter enough to be worth a little inconvenience and risk, then why the hell would I bother with the trouble of going after Saren?”

He chuckled. “You and I might have a slightly different idea of what constitutes a ‘little risk.’” 

She shrugged. “We're already risking everything. What's a few more bullets?”

“Ha! Just a few more, huh?”

Again she shrugged. Exhausted as Shepard was, there was still such a fire in her as she looked at him from across the table, a presence that invigorated him as much here as in the field. He’d face all the bullets in the galaxy if she asked him to. 

 “In any case,” he said, “it's an inspiring perspective. Something to try to live by.” 

She nodded. “Whenever we're able.”

“Just try not to die by it, Shepard. I get the feeling this galaxy needs you around.” He was also starting to get the feeling that he needed her around.

Shepard stood up, walked around the table, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, Garrus,” she said and released him.

Her non-answer hit him like a blow: She would die by her convictions. And Garrus felt with abrupt, grueling clarity that it was true. “Goodnight, Shepard,” he said as she went to her quarters, leaving him alone.

Chapter Text

“Thanks for toughing out the cold down there, Garrus,” Shepard’s tone was light and friendly. But there was a tightness in her muscles and features as she watched Liara board the elevator. “And by ‘toughing out’ I mean, only complaining about it seven or eight times.”

He snorted. “So that would be about half as much complaining as you did on Therum?”

She turned to him and gaped. “There was lava on Therum! And earthquakes!”

“There was snow on Noveria. A lot of it.” He shuddered. “I couldn’t feel my fingers. Do you know how hard it is to shoot when you can’t feel your fingers?”

She nodded. “I did training in the Arctic on Earth for the N7 program. Similar experience to Noveria, minus the insulated mako and heated business suites. I slept in a cave I dug out of the snow, and gnawed on frozen ration packets for a week while playing war games.”

“Brutal,” he said, impressed.

“The Alliance doesn’t play around. Maybe you Turians need to do more subzero training.” She shoved him playfully.

“Maybe,” he said with a chuckle. “Or better insulated armor, anyway.”

She laughed. “I can get you a new suit, Garrus, if it would help. You don't win any points for suffering, silently or otherwise.”

“Nah. You have more important things to spend your credits on.”

“More important than my favorite sniper being able to feel his fingers? Not a chance. I’ll buy you the armor.” He watched curiously as she stroked the armor plating on his upper arm, examining the singed enamel where he'd taken a blaster hit a few weeks before. Then she looked up at his face and tilted her head, smiling. “Something blue to bring out your eyes, maybe?”

If she were a Turian, he would have taken that as flirting. But no, this was just how Shepard was with him: flattering, teasing. And humans were often physical in their expressions of friendship: a hand shake, a pat on the back, even embraces. None of it implied attraction. Yes, the attraction between him and Shepard, if that’s even what it was, went one way only. And that was fine.

“I… uh… do like blue,” he said.

“Good,” she said, letting her hand drop. “I’ll talk to the requisition officer and get you set up with a new suit.” Her expression shifted as she turned to look toward the elevator. “I suppose I should talk to Liara. About Benezia.”

“Okay,” he said, not envying her. He wouldn’t know what to say to Liara, but Shepard always seemed to have the right words.

Shepard looked back to him, and smiled sadly. “See you, Garrus.”

“See you, Shepard,” he said, looking after her. “I’ll be here if you need me.” She waved over her shoulder, and he watched her walk away. Those human legs of her's didn’t look nearly as alien to him now as they had a couple months ago.

A snort from the other side of the cargo bay caught his attention. Wrex was staring at him, lips curled in a grin. Garrus maintained defiant eye contact until Wrex stomped over.

“I think I've figured it out,” Wrex said, leaning sideways against one of the mako’s wheels.

“Figured what out?” Garrus asked, uncomfortable with Wrex’s mocking tone.

“You and Shepard,” the Krogan said in a low voice.

“Me and Shepard?” Garrus repeated, not comprehending what Wrex was on about.

“Uh huh. You've been playing it cool in front of the others. But I've been around too long to fall for it."

Garrus stared at him expectantly. "You want to clue me in at some point?"

Wrex, sniggered. "You can drop the act, Garrus. I know . You've been docking your dreadnought in Shepard's space port.”

“What are you….” Wrex’s meaning abruptly dawned on him in a moment of blood-draining horror. “Oh! No!” he spat incredulously. “Spirits! Why would you think that ?”

“The way you fight ,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

“The way we fight ? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Ha!” Wrex laughed loudly. “Like you don't know.”

Garrus was lost and increasingly irritated by the old man's goading. “I have honestly never been so confused by any conversation in my life.”

“Come on. Everyone knows you fight how you fuck.”

“What?” Garrus hissed. But a certain sparring match came immediately to mind. I had reach, and she had flexibility . “What does that even mean?” he asked, digging into confusion as the appropriate emotion of the moment.

He moved in closer, whispering, “You're all slow, precise, and relaxed…. She's all heat, power, and pushing limits… but both of you, under that armor, so vulnerable .”

Spirits . Why had he asked for elaboration? Garrus closed his eyes and shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the thoughts that Wrex had placed there. “I… uh… I don't even know what to say to that…. Why would you think that means we're… uh….”  

Wrex shrugged. “You fight how you fuck. At first I thought you'd just been fighting together for a long time to be so... responsive to each other…. Then I figured it out: you must be getting in touch with each other's needs and rhythms in private, and it's crossing over to combat.”

“That is….” He shook his head again. “Okay, first of all, Shepard and I are absolutely not having… uh….” He couldn’t even say it.

“Sex,” Wrex offered helpfully.

“Right. If we're responsive to each other in combat, it's because we have compatible styles and are good at what we do. That's it.”

“Uh huh. Sure,” Wrex said with a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me, buddy.”

“I'm serious, Wrex,” Garrus snapped. “Whatever it is you think you're picking up on, you're wrong.”

Wrex looked briefly deflated. “Huh… Seriously?”

“Seriously, Wrex.”

He shrugged. “Well if you're not having sex together, maybe you should be.”

“And why is that?” he asked, trying to feign disinterest by checking the mako’s side maintenance panel.

Wrex leaned in. “‘Compatible styles?’ ‘Good at what we do?’” He shoved Garrus so hard he almost knocked him over. “You'll fuck like you fight!” Wrex shouted, laughing so loudly that everyone in the cargo bay turned to look at them.

Garrus desperately wanted to board one of the escape pods and eject himself as far away from this conversation as possible. He shook his head. “This conversation is over,” he grumbled. “I need to go calibrate… something.”

Chapter Text

Garrus was filled with a calm he hadn’t felt in ages. Completion. Thanks to Shepard. With Doctor Saleon dead, he felt free. Free of C-sec. Free of his father. Free of all the frustration, of the persistent feeling of failure, of a life he’d hated. Free to move on.

The Normandy was beginning to feel like home. The mixed human and turian design of the vessel, which had seemed so disjointed to him when he’d first arrived, now appeared elegant, efficient, seamless. Even the crew, so alien and animus at first, were now familiar and even friendly. Perhaps it was their shared sense of purpose that crossed the divides of species and culture. Perhaps it was the bonds of combat. Perhaps it was Shepard’s influence. 

Shepard had an undeniable pull on all of them, though what drew them in varied. For Kaidan and Ashley, they were drawn to the paragon. For Tali, the hero. For Wrex, the battlemaster. For Liara, the puzzle. For Joker and Doctor Chakwas, it was Shepard’s steadiness. 

For Garrus? He couldn’t name it. But it was there. And so was she. Drinking tea in the mess hall. He was tempted to keep watching her in silence, enjoying the beauty of her (yes, there was a particular beauty to her, no matter how alien) closing her eyes as she took a sip, the steam from her cup and the mess hall lighting working in concert to give her an almost ethereal glow. But she noticed him almost immediately.

She smiled with a genuine warmth that drew him in. “Hey, Garrus.”

“Shepard,” he said, approaching. “Mind if I join you?”

She used her foot to push out the chair across from her. “Of course not. We bump into each other so often at this hour, I've started depending on our late night chats to help me unwind before bed.”

He took the offered seat. “Always happy to help bore you to sleep, Shepard.”

She laughed, lighting him up inside. “Less boredom and more an infectious calm. Plus that soothing voice.”

He leaned forward. “Do I have a soothing voice?” he asked in his most soothing voice, letting his subvocals hum like a cello under his words. 

Shepard made a subtle shivering movement and smirked. “Mmhmm. When I'm tossing and turning at night, I sometimes consider calling you up to my cabin to read me a bedtime story.”

He laughed, remembering the stories his parents used to read him before bed. “Turian bedtime stories are mostly war history,” he said. “I doubt they would help you unwind from a day of being shot at.” He could imagine better ways to help her relax, if she’d ever showed an interest.

She sighed and jutted out her bottom lip. “Ah well. So if Turian bedtime stories are nixed from tonight's programming, what is on your mind?”

A lot. “I wanted to thank you,” he said.

Shepard shook her head and put down her mug. “There's no need. Saleon was a monster; I'm glad we were able to stop him from hurting anyone else. Well worth the detour.”

Garrus nodded. “It feels good to finally clear the case after all this time. But I'm not just thanking you for that…. These few months with you… and your crew… It's meant a lot to me, Shepard.” More than he could find the words to say.

She reached for his hand, and he reached back to hold hers. “Of course,” she said. “You've been a huge help, Garrus. And a good friend. I'm just glad we crossed paths.” She gave his hand a firm squeeze and then released him, returning to her tea.

“Me too. The history between our peoples being what it is… Well... I doubt most humans would have accepted a Turian as part of their crew.” His eyes locked to hers. “But you took a chance on me.”

“And you on me.” She set down her mug again firmly and leaned back in her chair. “Most Turians I've known still look at Humans as galactic-upstarts. But you accepted me as your Commander without hesitation. A good example of where a little interspecies trust and cooperation can take us. Maybe the rest of the galaxy should take notes.”

He leaned back in his own chair, mirroring her. “I bet they will; you're pretty hard to ignore.”

Shepard smirked and crossed her arms. “You taking notice, Vakerian?” she asked in a teasing tone.

More than she knew. “Absolutely,” he said, crossing his own arms. “You're kicking ass and building bridges. It's a rare person who can do both.”

Shepard’s smirk softened to a touched smile “Thank you.” Her tone was surprised, grateful. “It's not always easy… but I'm doing my best.”

“Your best is pretty damn impressive, Shepard…. I've never met anyone like you.”

“Well, now you're making me blush,” she said, and sure enough her cheeks had taken on a rosiness that made his chest flutter. 

He tilted his head, studying her face more openly than he’d ever dared. “Huh… Turians don't do that,” he said, playfully.

She leaned forward, arching her back and biting her lower lip. “ That sounds like a challenge.”

He laughed. “More like a biological impossibility.” The heat she so often made tingle through him would never shine through his thick turian skin, let alone his face plates.

At his words Shepard slumped a little, and her smile tightened. “Biological impossibility, huh?” she repeated, cringing. “Sounds pretty final. I guess I should probably give up then?” Her eyes met his, brows raised. An earnest question.

She seemed more serious than he would have thought the conversation warranted. “Uh… I'd recommend it, yeah,” he answered, hesitantly.

She nodded slowly and sighed. “Message received…. I’d thought….” She looked in his eyes, mouth slightly open like she was about to say something. But she closed her mouth and shook her head without finishing the thought. She didn’t seem upset really. But something had shifted in her. 

“Shepard?” he asked, confused and concerned in equal measure. “Did I--”

She held up a hand and cut him off. “No. It’s fine, Garrus. Really. We’re good…. I just….” She cut herself off again with a breathy chuckle and a roll of her eyes. “I should go. It’s getting late.” She got up to leave, looking more flushed than she had before.

Garrus sat up straighter, wondering helplessly what stumbling error he had made. A miscommunication? A cultural blunder? But she was leaving without clarification, already walking past him. “Oh... Uh… Goodnight, Shepard,” he stammered over his shoulder.

Chapter Text

Garrus sat alone in the observation lounge. Watching the points of light streak by the window at FTL speed, he felt distinctly like he was falling through space, unanchored to the seat and ship beneath him. He loved her. The realization had hit him at carapace-cracking velocity, knocking the breath out of him. He loved her. He’d watched her heart break as she’d given the order to secure the bomb site. And he loved her. He’d seen her face when Williams’ com went dead, not stopping, not flinching, not giving any sign of shrinking from her decision. And he loved her. He’d known what making that call did to her, because he knew her. And that knowledge nearly brought him to his knees because he loved her. 

He wondered how long he’d been falling. Because, although his recognition of his feelings for her was new, the feeling itself felt distinctly old. Older than even made sense given their relatively short acquaintance. It was as though he’d always…. But no, he stopped himself. He wasn’t going to be swept away by this. He’d been doing a fine job of handling his attraction to the Commander. He could handle this too. There was no point in getting caught up in it. Right now all that mattered was that his friend was undoubtedly hurting. She could not be the person she was… the person he loved… and make a call like she had without personal fallout.

“She’s in the cargo bay,” came Tali’s voice, startling him out of his thoughts.

He looked over his shoulder at her then back out at the stars. “Hey, Tali. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She sat down next to him on the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I thought maybe you were waiting for Shepard.”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. “She usually comes in here to write her mission reports. I thought she might want to debrief beforehand. Talk it out…. Virmire was rough. A damn big win, but rough…. And having to make the call between Williams and Alenko….” He shook his head. Shepard didn’t have the calluses necessary to make calls like that. But she did it anyway. And she felt it.

“I know,” Tali said softly.

“You said she’s in the cargo bay?” he asked.

Tali nodded. “Going through Ash’s things.”

Damn . He hadn’t thought about that. “Someone else should do that,” he said heavily.

“Kaidan was going to. But Shepard told him she’d take care of it.”

Of course she did. “Is she okay?” he asked, turning his head in Tali’s direction, knowing the answer, even if Tali didn’t.

“I don’t know. I think she’s trying to be strong. For the crew, you know?”

“Yeah. Sounds right.” Shepard could make space for everyone’s feelings but her own. She’d be a shoulder to her entire crew, but all her own grieving would happen in private.

“But she’s different with you,” Tali said. “I think she might need you right now. The rest of us are her crew…. But you're her friend.”

Her friend. Always. It was all he wanted from her. Whatever he felt, friendship was at the core of it. “I’ll go check in with her,” he said, rising.

“Thanks,” Tali said. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

Neither did he.

He found Shepard by the lockers in the cargo bay, her back to the elevators. Ashley’s locker was open, and Shepard was removing items from it and placing them in one of two cargo containers on the ground: one to go back to Alliance requisitions and a smaller one to be sent to Williams' family. Each item that Shepard removed, she held in front of her for several seconds, touching it tenderly, before placing it in the appropriate box.

“Shepard,” Garrus sighed her name, his spirit aching with every pained gesture. 

She turned very briefly to look at him before turning back to her task. No words.

Garrus closed the distance until he was close enough to hear her ragged breathing. “I'm sorry about Williams,” he said softly. He knew it was inadequate. 

She nodded, placing Ashley's rifle maintenance kit in the requisitions container. “Me too,” she said quietly, her voice jagged around the edges. She wouldn’t look at him. “I keep going over it all… wondering if I'd made different calls if…” she trailed off. She blamed herself like he knew she would.

“You made the right calls," he said. "I know it hurts, but you have to remember that, Shepard. Sending Williams with the distraction team… securing the bomb site…. Both hard calls… but the right ones. No crystal ball needed."

She sniffed. "I know. For the good of the mission, right?"

“Yeah. The good of the mission.”

She removed a photograph that had been stuck to the inside of the locker door with magnets. Her fingers hovered over the image of Ashley, posing with her sisters in front of a rollercoaster. "I doubt that will be much comfort to them," Shepard said. "They'll want someone to blame."

"The only person to blame is Saren. And we’ll pay him back for this soon enough."

She put the photo in the box and sniffed again. "I made the call, Garrus. That responsibility rests with me.... Right call or wrong, I sent Ash to her death. And killing Saren isn’t going to fix that."

A nonsensical fear hit him that she was being bodily pulled away, to somewhere dark, cold, and far away. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "You're being too hard on yourself,” he said, firmly and gently. “Ash was a soldier. She was honored to serve, and she understood that--"

Shepard shrugged his hand off. "Don’t you think I know that?" she snapped, looking him in the eyes for the first time. "I’ve been a soldier long enough to know the fucking eulogy by heart.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, flustered by his failure to say the right thing.

 She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, the anger falling from her quickly like it always did. “No, I’m sorry. I get that you're trying to help, Garrus. But I don't need the tired platitudes right now.”

“Okay,” he said gently. “What do you need?”

She made a fist and tapped it into the side of her thigh. “I need to win... So that all of this will have counted for something .”

“We'll win, Shepard,” he said. “Don't doubt it.”

She smiled weakly up at him. “You sound so sure of it.”

“I'm sure of you ,’ he said, pouring a galaxy of conviction and confidence into those words. He moved in close to face her. “And whatever Saren and the Reapers throw at us, I'll be right there with you. Count on it.”

Shepard looked up into his eyes, her lips quivering slightly on the edge of tears. She held up one hand, and for a breathless moment, Garrus thought she meant to caress his face. But the moment passed, and Shepard’s hand dropped to his upper arm. Her voice came sad but sincere: “You're an incredible friend, Garrus. What would I do without you?”

Garrus looked steadily into her eyes. If he could blush, he would. The urge to embrace her was almost irresistible. He almost gave in. For Turians, it would cross an intimate line; it wasn't something friends did. But, the line of appropriate expressions of physical affection for human friendships was ill defined. He'd seen human friends hug in situations like this. For comfort. For support. But still, if he embraced Shepard, it would mean more than that to him, even if she didn't take it as such.

"I’m with you, Shepard," he said, caressing her name instead. If she understood how to interpret Turian subvocals, she'd notice the way he cradled her name in a tender hum.

She let her hand fall from his arm and turned back to Ash's locker. "I think I'd like to finish this alone," she said. "Gather my thoughts about what to write in my letter to her family."

“Okay,” he said, taking a step back. “If you need anything, day or night…”

“Thank you. Really. But I’ll be okay.”

She would be. She’d been through much worse. But how much pain and guilt could that tender heart of hers endure? How much weight could those shoulders carry before she’d break? Or worse. She had a destiny that would test her limits, Garrus was sure of that. And he’d be there to make sure she didn’t get crushed under everything to come. If she’d let him. It didn’t matter that she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. Friendship was plenty. For the best, really, given the biological and cultural incompatibilities between them.

And as for the rest of it? This aching, falling feeling? The odd urge to get lost in her alien terrain? He could deal.

Chapter Text

The entire ship was buzzing with nervous energy. People rushing by to make this or that preparation. But, as Wrex had put it as he’d plopped down in the mess hall across form Garrus: “If they aren’t ready by now, a few hours of running in circles like drunk varen isn’t gonna make any difference.” The Normandy weapon systems were prepped. The mako was tuned up. His gear was good to go. Still, something in Garrus felt unsettled as he stared at Shepard’s closed door.

“You gonna go in, or what?” Wrex asked’

“What?” Garrus asked. He’d been only barely aware of the Krogan’s continued presence.

Wrex leaned forward against the table. “You stare at that door much longer, you’ll bore a hole through it. You want to be with Shepard, so why are you sitting here drinking tea like a damn Matriarch?”

Garrus shook his head. “This again? Why would you think--”

“Because I'm old, not dead,” Wrex interrupted. “That's why. The way you two fight. Not to mention the whiff of pheromones coming off of you.”

Garrus shrank a little into his shell. Spirits .

“And I've seen you looking.” Wrex shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Ancestors can guess at what you see there. Shepard might be a peerless battle master, but she’s still an ugly little primate. Tiny, soft, with the weird fur growing out of the top of her.” He put his hand on his forehead and wiggled his fingers. “Weird, right?”

With most humans, he’d have granted Wrex’s point. But the aesthetic appeal of Shepard’s softness had grown on Garrus. Even the short, loose curls of her hair and the awkward shape of her legs didn’t look strange to him anymore.

Wrex straightened up in his seat. “But whatever. You want her?” He made a fist in front of his face and grinned. “So go get her!”

The volume of Wrex’s encouragement alarmed Garrus. “We're friends, Wrex,” he hissed in a whisper. “If I went to Shepard's cabin, it would be to talk , not to… I wouldn't even know how to….” He sighed, angry that Wrex wouldn’t let it be. There was no point in pursuing Shepard. Garrus knew that. Why did the Krogan have to push him to want for something that couldn’t be? “We're friends. Friends. I don't have any other expectations.”

“Uh huh,” Wrex grumbled. “Say that all you want, but pheromones don’t lie.”

Garrus opened his mouth, ready to snap back about not understanding how Wrex could smell anything past his own breath. But Kaidan’s approach silenced him. The Lieutenant stood next to Garrus' seat, folding his arms, and looking at Shepard’s door.

“Is the Commander in there?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yup,” Wrex said, eyes still locked on Garrus.

Kaidan took a deep breath, nodded once, and walked purposefully to Shepard’s door. After a couple seconds, it opened to him, and he entered.

Garrus looked after him, mandibles slack.

“Missed your damn chance,” Wrex said, shaking his head. “Stupid, Turian.”

“You think they’re…” Garrus asked, trailing off, still staring at her door.

“Oh yeah. Pheromones don’t lie.”

He didn’t begrudge them their need to… blow off steam. And Kaidan’s feelings for Shepard were well known, however much Garrus might have doubted that they were as deep as his own. He couldn’t blame Kaidan for his infatuation. The two of them together? It was for the best. Inevitable, even. Whatever jealousy burned briefly behind Garrus’ eyes as he watched that door, it was softened by his security in the knowledge that being Shepard’s friend was in no way worth less than what she and Kaidan shared.

Chapter Text

Garrus leaned on the banister overlooking the lower level of Arcturus station’s promenade. Behind him he could hear the blasting music and shouting voices of his crewmates, celebrating their victory and their Commander in the nearby bar. He’d joined them in raising a few glasses to Shepard, the crew, and the Normandy, but the lively atmosphere hadn’t fit his melancholic mood. Most of the people here hadn’t seen the Citadel littered with bodies. Most of them hadn’t read the casualty lists. Most of them hadn’t spent half an hour digging Shepard out of Sovereign's wreckage in an agonized frenzy, certain that she’d been crushed. Garrus would need more than a few days to shake that off. Maybe by the time the repairs to the Normandy were completed he'd be ready for a little celebration.

He felt her approach before she spoke. Her light, quick steps. The faint scent of almonds. The way everything else seemed to fall away whenever she drew near. He knew her by heart.

She leaned back against the banister, facing the bar, close enough to him that if Garrus had spread his fingers out, they would have touch hers. She was flushed, from dancing or drinking. The station lights reflected off the light sheen of her skin, giving her a lively, youthful glow, as if in defiance of how close she’d come to death. How damn close he'd come to losing her.

“Getting too rowdy in there for you?” she asked brightly.

“Nah,” he said, unwilling to cast a pall over her brief respite from the grief and guilt that would undoubtedly return with her sobriety. “Just wanted to look around; I've never been to an Alliance station before. It's… bigger than I'd expected.” 

She looked over her shoulder past the banister at the deck below. “Not quite the Citadel, I know, but it's practically home. Whenever I'm not on assignment, this is where I bunk.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I can give you the tour, if you like.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your adoring public,” he said, swinging his head in the direction of the bar. “I'm surprised they let you step out at all.”

“It's not really my style: dancing, loud music... I get enough noise and action in my regular life. For down time I prefer moments like this: quiet conversation with a friend, maybe a glass of wine... a nice view.”

He looked over his shoulder to follow the line of her gaze to Lieutenant Alenko, dancing wildly. “Kaidan seems to be enjoying himself…. I take it you two are… keeping each other company?”

She cringed. “Yeah, I guess we are. It's technically against regulations. But once you've stolen an Alliance warship, fraternization looks pretty small-time by comparison.”

“You did just save the galaxy, Shepard; I think you've earned a little unregulated happiness.” He looked at her, still watching Kaidan, and felt a twinge of sadness. “ Are you happy?” he asked.

Shepard blushed. “Yeah, I think so. It's been a while since anyone's… kept me company. And ‘happy’ is… well, we’ve been busy. But it's been really great so far. I care about Kaidan a lot. And he makes me feel… bigger than myself. Like I can save the galaxy.”

He chuckled. “Is it serious?”

She shrugged. “It might be. It's new. But I don't think he's the kind of man who takes anything lightly.”

“Yeah,” Garrus agreed, staring out in front of him at nothing in particular. “I think you're right.”

“So, what's next for you, Garrus?” she asked, with another nudge from her elbow. “You signing on for another tour?”

“Are you kidding?” he laughed. “I'm with you, Shepard. For as long as you'll have me.” He couldn't imagine moving on.

Her smile filled him with light. She turned to face out over the promenade with him, bracing her forearms against the banister. “You sure about that?” she asked. “Because that's a promise I'll collect on.” She reached her right arm across her body and presented him with her hand.

He clasped it in a firm shake. “Count on it, Commander. There's nowhere I'd rather be than watching your back.”

She released his hand promptly, but as they looked out over the promenade together, she leaned into him a little, her left arm, pressed to his right. “Good,” she said. “Because there's no one else I'd rather have fighting at my side.”

Chapter Text

The attack came without warning. And within minutes of Joker's announcement to brace for the first impact, Shepard’s order came over the comm, her voice ragged: “All hands to escape pods. Initiate emergency evacuation protocol.”

“Shit,” Garrus breathed and exchanged a glance with Tali. "Who the hell is attacking us!” It was the question everyone on the engineering deck had been asking, and no one seemed to have an answer.

“It can’t be the Geth,” she shouted over the din of alarms and other raised voices. “They couldn’t have cut through our defenses so quickly.” 

A Reaper maybe? If Shepard was calling to abandon ship so soon into the battle, the Normandy had to be woefully outmatched in speed, weapons, and defense by whomever it was. Or they'd gotten a lucky shot off on a critical system. Or both. Shit. Shepard . She’d be the last to evacuate. The realization shuddered through him like ice water. Spirits, please hold this ship together for long enough to -- Another hit, rocked the vessel hard, knocking Garrus and everyone around him off their feet. 

He scrambled back to a standing position and gave Tali a hand up. “This is bad,” he said, dread gripping in his gut.

“You heard the Commander!” Adams shouted, walking at a clip from engineering into the cargo bay. The right side of his head had a long bleeding gash. “Move it!”

Garrus eyed the elevator, fighting the impulse to take it to the crew deck, find Shepard, and make sure she got into an escape pod with him.

Adams caught him looking and guessed at the direction of his thoughts. “Don’t even think about it. The elevator is locked down. Get to a pod.”

Garrus shook his head, anger sparking in him. “I know how to follow orders, Chief. I was just… thinking about the people on the other decks.”

“Think in a pod,” Adams said, urging Garrus forward with a firm shove on his shoulder. “Let Shepard and Alenko worry about the other decks.”

Garrus nodded, and made his way through the open hatch of one of the deck’s escape pods. Two other crew members were already inside. They were shaken. He was shaken. 

He looked out of the far window, pressing his forehead to the glass to try to get a view of whoever was attacking them. Bits of metal debris floated by. And then a body. Shit. The hull had been breached. No wonder Shepard had made the call to evacuate. The enemy vessel was still out of sight.

Adams entered the pod and slammed his fist against the button to close the hatch. It shut and the magnetic lock activated. “Time to buckle up,” he barked at Garrus, and they both took their seats. Shit .

The comm link buzzed. Kaidan’s voice came, loud and rough: “Alright! Crew deck is clear. Launching pods 4 through 6 now.” Through the window, Garrus could see the pods fire from the ship like bullets.

Adams held down his comm button and punched his command code into the console panel on his left. “Engineering deck is clear of all survivors. Launching pods 7 through 9, now.” 

Garrus felt the pull of inertia as the pod ejected. He closed his eyes against the nauseous lurch in his stomach, waiting for Shepard to announce that the CIC was clear. But nothing came. He stiffened and tapped his own comm button. “Is Shepard evacuating the CIC?” he asked.

Kaidan sighed heavily. “All hands in the CIC are lost.... The Commander is evacuating Joker.”

Garrus’ attention snapped to the hatch-side window, through which the Normandy was now visible. The hull of the CIC was obliterated. And beyond was the enemy ship. It was unfamiliar to him. Monstrous in size and design. Spirits, the Normandy never stood a chance.

“Was Jeff injured?” Chakwas’ voice came over the comm. Garrus understood the worry beneath her question: Joker should have been able to make it to the cockpit escape pod on his own.

“No,” Grumbled Kaidan. “Just insubordinate. He wouldn't follow the evacuation order.”

Garrus' heart gripped as he stared at the what remained of the CIC: exposed, held together by a kinetic barrier that could fall at any moment. Shepard was out there. “Spacewalking through the CIC in the middle of an attack?” Garrus’ voice buzzed with fear. “Kaidan, that's a hell of a risk.”

“Don't worry,” Kaidan said firmly. “The cockpit is still in one piece, and she's in a suit and mag boots. She'll get him out.” Garrus wondered if Kaidan was trying to convince himself too, or if his belief in Shepard’s invincibility was really so unflappable.

The pods were clear of the battle now. All eyes were fixed on the hatch-side window as they silently watched their ship take another hit. And another. The blue light of the kinetic barrier flickered out. A particle beam cut through the black sky toward the Normandy cockpit and severed it from what remained of the CIC.

“Spirits!” Garrus gasped, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath frantic. A heartbeat later, the sky lit up with an explosion as the enemy's weapons sliced through engineering. Time slowed. Garrus watched the far flung debris of the Normandy, silently blazing in the void. His mind was numb, unwilling to even think of her, because if he thought of her at all, he’d have to think of her out there. So he thought of nothing. The passing seconds contained eternities of cold, quiet, nothing.

“Oh, god,” came Adams’ voice, breaking through the nothing with violent force. 

The comm hummed, and for a moment, Garrus let himself believe it would be Shepard. But no. “Shepard?” Kaidan called out, panic ringing in his tone. Escape pod 1? Do you read me? Did you clear the blast?... God, tell me you cleared the blast.”

Silence.

“Escape pod 1! Do you--”

 “Confirmed,” Joker interrupted, his voice weak, shaking. “Escape pod 1… is clear.”

The comm lit up with cheering. “Thank God!” Kaidan said in earnest prayer. But still, Garrus could not breathe. He waited, knowing. 

Then it came: Joker’s voice on the comm again, heavy and halting with the news he had to relay. “Shepard… She… She didn't make it.”

Silence.

“Shepard,” Garrus' whispered her name to a cruel galaxy, holding on to the only piece of her he could. “Shepard.”

“What? What do you mean? Wasn't she with you on the bridge?” Kaidan asked, the unthinkable hovering on the edge of his tone.

“She was…” Joker stammered. “I…”

“Does anyone else have Shepard on their pod?” Kaidan said, unable to acknowledge that of course she could not be anywhere but in the blazing ruins of her ship.

“Oh, Kelah,” Tali’s voice said, as reality hit her too.

“Jeff,” came Liara’s voice, calm and commanding. “What happened to Shepard?”

Silence.

“Jeff?”

His voice returned, bent to despair. “She… she got me on board the pod. But, she couldn't… the blast caught her before she could board... … She's spaced.”

“Goddess.”

“No… no…,” Kaidan said, stubbornly refusing the reality that the woman he considered invincible could be blotted from the book of life so abruptly. “She was in a suit. She'll be okay. She was in a suit.”

“Kaidan…” Garrus said, as gently as he could for the man whom Shepard had loved.

“She was in a suit!” Kaidan shouted back. 

“She. was. spaced.” Joker’s voice was hard now, defensive, angry. “You know, in the same explosion that just destroyed the whole fucking ship.” A shaky breath, and he broke. “Shepard's gone, man… ... She's… she's gone.”

“No... no... no... She got you out! Why didn't she board the pod!” Garrus wanted to mute the comm. Kaidan’s desperate clinging to the impossible needled him. Shepard had always been mortal. And she was always going to die like this: taking a risk because someone mattered more to her than living. Kaidan should have known that.

“It was too late. She secured me, and… there wasn't time. I think maybe something hit her... She lost her grip, and then… there just wasn't time.”

“Wasn't time?” Something in Kaidan’s voice had snapped. “Wasn't time? Because you wouldn't just take the pod when I ordered you to! You insisted on staying!”

“Yeah,” Joker said, with the full weight of regret in his broken tone. “I know.”

“If you'd followed orders, Shepard wouldn't have had to go to the bridge to drag you to a pod!”

“I know.”

“She wouldn't be…” Kaidan’s breath caught in a shaking gasp.

“I fucking know!” Joker shouted back.

When Kaidan’s voice returned, it was furious, breaking, “Shepard is... isn't here, because you--”

“Kaidan, this isn't helping,” Liara’s voice cut through, firm and commanding, channeling Shepard. “We should be scanning the wreckage. If there is even a chance that Shepard's suit protected her, we need to attempt to locate her position in order to provide coordinates to the vessel that rescues us so they might recover her before she runs out of oxygen.”

Garrus shook his head. Like Kaidan, Liara was clinging to the impossible.

Adams leaned forward in his seat, locked eyes with Garrus, and sighed. “The pods' sensors are minimal. There's no way we'll pick up the Commander’s suit's thermal signature. We wouldn't be able to tell her apart from the wreckage. Unless she sends up flares or manages to boost her suit's signal somehow, we won't be able to find her in this.”

“We have windows!” shouted Liara, desperately. “We might see her! Just… please, by the goddess, please, try. We have to try.”

The comm went mercifully silent. 

Garrus stared out the window. The enemy ship was gone, and the scene of the attack, so chaotic minutes before, now looked eerily calm. The pods were too far away to make out any bodies in the wreckage. The vacuum of space had suffocated the fires of the explosion, and the Normandy was all but lost to the cold, dark of space. He let his thoughts go with it: back to the numb, silent, nothing.

Chapter Text

It was six hours before the Ahranshi arrived to recover the drifting escape pods. The crew maintained a silent vigil for the Normandy, the lost crew, and their commander, until the console beeped with a response to their distress call, and Adams opened a comm to tell everyone to prepare for rescue.

Garrus stepped in a daze from the docking tube onto the flight deck of the Asari dreadnought. After staring for so long into the void, everything on the Ahranshi felt aggressively bright, from the lights to the titanium plating. The brightness seemed to hum shrilly, boring into his faceplates at a frequency that threatened to shatter him completely. Yes, that’s what’s happening , he thought. I’m breaking apart . He could feel the cracks spindling like spider webs through his whole person. One step, one word, one touch would finish him.

He barely noticed the slender arms enfolding him. “She's gone, Garrus,” came Tali’s voice, crying into his chest. “Kelah, I can't believe she's gone.” And he didn’t break.

He stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how he could be so irreparably fractured yet still somehow whole, while Tali held him. And despite how very fragile he felt, he returned her embrace. It was what she needed. “Yeah, Tali,” he said, his subvocals quavering erratically. “Shepard’s gone.” It hurt like hell to say it out loud; if he hadn’t been braced against his friend, he was certain it would have brought him to his knees. But still, he was whole. And when Tali released him, he did not fall.

Garrus glanced around the deck, taking mental note of which pods had been recovered and who was still waiting to come aboard. On a bench by the lift doors, Joker sat alone, his head in his hands, metal cast stabilizing his right arm. A bilious anger rose in Garrus, looking at the man whose insubordination had killed Shepard.

Tali followed the line of his sight. “He won't talk to anyone,” she said, folding her arms around herself. She shook her head. “I couldn't believe the things Kaidan said. Blaming Joker like that…”

“Kaidan was right,” Garrus said matter-of-factly. “Joker disobeyed an order, and now Shepard is dead.” Shepard is dead . The words, said softly, nevertheless seemed to echo around him.

“He made a mistake,” Tali said defensively, taken aback. “He was trying to save the ship. It's not his fault that--”

“He got her killed, Tali!” Garrus snapped, surprising himself with both his volume and anger. “Of course it's his damn fault!” 

Heads turned at his outburst. But Joker’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. He’d heard Garrus. He must have. Garrus felt a twinge of remorse, but not enough to stop. The need to vent the anger that built up in him seeing Joker alive while Shepard’s lifeless body floated amongst debris was more than he could bear.

He looked back to Tali. “Shepard made the call for all hands to evacuate,” he spoke quieter this time, but his tone was still sharp, furious. “Kaidan gave Joker a direct order to get his ass to a pod. He ignored them both. Shepard is dead as a result of his insubordination.”

He expected Tali to snap back. He wanted her to snap back. But instead she put a hand on his arm. “I know you're hurting,” she said, her tone soft with empathy. “I am too… But blaming Joker won't help anything.... And I don't think it's what Shepard would have wanted.”

It would have been kinder to strike him. Tali gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze before taking a seat next to Joker on the bench. She was right. He knew that. If Shepard were here … He laughed mirthlessly. If Shepard were here, he wouldn’t be so damn angry. He’d be comforting her over the death of the pilot and so many others. He’d be telling her that she wasn’t to blame. But she was to blame. Not for the deaths of her crew, but for her own. She’d made a choice to risk too much, to die by her driving ideal: People matter …. Damn it. Shepard mattered. The agonizing grief ringing through him mattered.

“Damn it, Shepard,” he whispered to the emptiness she’d left behind. Shepard had disliked playing in hypotheticals, so why should he care what she would have wanted if she hypothetically hadn’t gotten herself spaced. She was beyond wanting now. "Damn it."

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, still and silent while the rescue efforts continued. Medics and salvage teams moved around him with rushed purpose, occasionally brushing him with an elbow. Sometimes a Normandy crew member or medic would say something to him, touch his shoulder in sympathy, or stand near him in quiet company. But they moved on, while he remained.

It was Kaidan’s arrival that shook him from his stillness. The Lieutenant stepped out of the docking tube, fists clenched, breathing hard. His head snapped this way and that, searching for something. And then he found his target. Kaidan’s eyes locked on Joker, and his nostrils flared. For several seconds Garrus watched as he stood there, Kaidan’s rage building with every heave of his chest. And then whatever tether had been holding him back snapped; Kaidan stomped at alarming speed toward Joker, a maddening grief driving him.

Garrus forced his own grief-exhausted body into his path. “Hold on, Kaidan,” he said, placing his hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder.

But Kaidan wasn’t prepared to be placated. “Back off!” he shouted, and a biotic force pushed Garrus off his feet.

Joker looked up at Kaidan’s approach, his own face red and drawn. He shook his head as Kaidan drew close. “I've already heard it, man. Just fuck off.”

And then the blow landed. Gasps and shouts sounded as Joker clutched at his bleeding face and Garrus clambered to his feet. Garrus ran to Kaidan and grabbed him from behind, pulling him back before he could strike again. 

“Are you out of your damn mind!” Garrus shouted, restraining Kaidan’s arms.

Great wailing screams escaped Kaidan as he thrashed and pulled in Garrus’ grip. But Garrus wouldn’t let him go. He held Kaidan tightly around his chest and arms while the Lieutenant’s body shook with wracking sobs of grief and rage. And when Kaidan’s knees buckled, Garrus sank to the ground with him.

Security officers came to remove the Lieutenant to the brig. The fight in Kaidan had been spent by then, and he went somberly and quietly. A wall of medical personnel and Normandy crew, including Doctor Chakwas who’d been first to rush to aid, hovered around Joker, blocking the pilot from Garrus’ sight. He hoped he was okay, if for no other reason than because it would have been too cruel to have Shepard’s sacrifice rendered irrelevant in such short order. Soon a stretcher was brought in, and the everyone stepped back to make way.

Garrus approached Doctor Chakwas. She was watching the Asari load Joker onto the stretcher, wiping the blood from her hands onto a handkerchief. “How is he,” he asked, and her eyes darted briefly to him before returning to Joker.

“He’ll live,” she breathed. “Thanks to you. If you hadn’t been there…” she trailed off and shook her head.

“Kaidan pulled his punch,” Garrus responded with a shrug, knowing that Alenko could have killed Joker with a single hit if he’d really wanted to. “I don’t think he would have taken things any further than he did, even if I hadn’t held him back.”

“I don’t know…. I hope not.” She was ghostly pale and her hands shook as she watched Joker be taken out. “I understand why he was angry. Jeff… he made a terrible mistake.”

“Yeah,” Garrus said. “He did.” Kaidan’s actions had gone a long way toward defusing Garrus’ own anger at Joker. But still, forgiveness would be a long way off. If ever.

“He’ll hate himself for it, if he doesn’t already,” she said, and a tear slid down her cheek.

“Who? Kaidan or Joker?”

She snorted. “Both.”

“We’ll all have scars from this,” he said.

She nodded. “Survivor’s guilt. Trauma. Loss.” Her eyes flitted to him. “Anger.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.

Doctor Chakwas frowned. “Her oxygen would have run out by now,” she said.

He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

“I know she almost certainly died in the initial blast… or soon after from the heat of the explosion.”

Garrus closed his eyes at the doctor’s words, not wanting to think of Shepard dying any way but instantly. 

“But now there really is no hope,” she said, her voice cracking. “Shepard really is… gone.” She broke down after that, body shaking with silent sobs.

He had no words of comfort for her. He didn’t even have any for himself. He could only put a hand on her shoulder and hope that Shepard had not lingered long enough for the capacity of her oxygen tank to have mattered.

Chapter Text

Alright. Just give us ten minutes?” Garrus asked the Ahranshi’s XO, exchanging a glance with Adams. “The crew should know we’re leaving before they feel the FTL drive kick in.”

“Of course,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll depart for Arcturus in thirty minutes. I hope that gives you and the Normandy’s crew the time you need.”

“Thank you,” Adams said.

The XO nodded and walked away to update the ship’s navigator.

Adams rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “I think almost everyone is still on the flight deck. I can make an announcement.” He looked out the ops’ windows as the recovery drones began a synchronized flight back to the ship. “They won’t like it… leaving so many behind. Leaving Shepard behind.”

Neither did he. But recovering their dead was impossible now. Between the pull of the nearby planet’s gravity and the inertia of the blast that had destroyed the ship, finding any remains of their crew mates among the scattered debris had become a longer shot by the minute. It was time to go.

“I’ll go break the news to Kaidan,” Garrus said heavily. He owed Shepard that.

Adams put a grateful hand on Garrus’ shoulder and smiled thinly before heading to the flight deck.

Kaidan was sitting on the bed in the holding cell, his forearms braced against his knees. He looked up as Garrus approached the forcefield. “Hey, Garrus,” he said, his voice drained of every ounce of fire that had screamed through him only a couple hours before.

“Hey,” Garrus said sadly. “How are you holding up?”

“Not great.” His brow furrowed. “How’s Joker?”

“His face has seen better days. A few broken bones…. Fractured arm too, but I think that one’s on Shepard.”

Kaidan sighed and nodded, looking back down at the floor of his cell.

“He'll need surgery,” Garrus continued. “But on the bright side they've pumped him full of drugs for the pain, so he's probably slightly less miserable than the rest of us right now. Honestly, I’m envious.”

“I shouldn't have hit him.”

“Yeah. Not exactly a shining moment,” Garrus granted. “Good thing you held back.”

Kaidan lifted his head again. “I…” He sighed. “I know it’s a long shot, but… is there any update on the search for Shepard?”

“I’m sorry, Kaidan. They're calling it off.”

Kaidan jumped abruptly to his feet. “What? No! They can't call it off already! She... she could still be out there!”

“No, Kaidan,” Garrus said as gently as he could. “She’s not. The fact that her suit isn't sending a locator signal… It's not likely she even survived the blast. Those suits aren't made to withstand the heat and force of a starship exploding.”

He paced, shaking his head. “No… no… no… I've thought about it, and there's still a chance. She might have managed to shield herself behind a piece of bulkhead or… or… or used her suit's propulsion to jet herself clear.”

“Joker saw--”

The Lieutenant banged his fists against the forcefield between them. “I don't care what he thinks he saw! He might have gotten it wrong!”

“Kaidan,” Garrus said, forcing his own voice to a steady calmness. “Even if Shepard's suit hadn't been damaged in the blast, her air supply would be long since depleted by now. Isn’t it better to believe that she died in an instant?”

Kaidan’s hands fell back to his sides. “So they’re just going to… to leave her out there?”

Garrus nodded. “They're reporting Shepard and the others killed in action,”Garrus said.

Kaidan sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, his face twisting as his anger gave way to grief. “Damn it! This can't be happening. She… she can't just be... gone.”

Garrus walked up close to the forcefield. He needed to get through to him, needed to break through this stubborn hope that kept him from accepting reality. “I'm sorry, Kaidan,” he said, his own voice cracking under the pain of it. “I know it's hard to accept, but she is gone. Shepard is dead. It’s over.”

Kaidan drew in a sharp intake of breath. For a moment, his face was a paralyzed in a mask of shocked grief. Then a shuddering exhale released, and he nodded. “I… I know,” he said, his voice trembling. “I know.”

Garrus pulled up a chair next to the cell’s forcefield and sat with Kaidan in silence until the pull of the FTL initializing let them know that they were leaving Shepard, the woman they both had loved in their own ways, behind. 

Kaidan’s crying eased, and when he spoke his voice was calm. “We were going to go to Earth in a few weeks…. I had it all planned out…. Vancouver…. The sunshine coast.... I wanted her to meet my parents.” He smiled. “They were going to love her. Ha! I mean, who wouldn’t?”

Who wouldn’t.

“She'd… she'd feel like part of a family again. We'd drink beer on the porch while the sun set over the bay…. I thought we'd have time for….” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I thought we'd have more time.” 

Garrus had had no grand plans for Shepard's future. No introduction to family. No sunsets on Palaven. No marriage, no children, no house on the beach. He'd planned simply to stay by Shepard's side until her dying day, lightening her burden when he could, watching her back, and being her friend. That she would cross over to the other side before him had always seemed a tragic certainty, but still, Garrus, like Kaidan, had expected to have a little more time with her.

“I think I'd... I'd like to be alone,” Kaidan said softly, cutting through Garrus' thoughts.

“Sure,” he said, getting up. Looking at Kaidan as he nodded goodbye, Garrus felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. Not of the relationship Kaidan had had with Shepard. But jealous that the extent of Kaidan's loss could be named and recognized as real and exceptional. He’d be forgiven for hitting Joker, because his loss was great. He’d be excused for not moving on in a month or a year, because his loss was great. He’d always be the one who’d lost Shepard. While Garrus' loss would be lumped in with the rest of the crew, just someone who had served with The Great Commander Shepard, his own connection to Shepard being unknown and unnameable.

Chapter Text

Garrus leaned on the banister overlooking the Arcturus promenade. It had only been a few months since he’d stood here with her. He closed his eyes and imagined her next to him, face flushed, warm grey eyes, the scent of almonds, the feel of her leaning into him just a little. There’s nowhere I’d rather be .

“Are you okay?”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Liara’s voice. He looked over his shoulder to see her approaching tentatively. He looked away. “You don't need to worry about me, Liara.”

She moved to stand next to him. “That wasn't an answer. Are you okay?”

He didn’t have the words. “I've lost people in the line of duty before,” he began. “In the Turian military. In C-sec. I've always accepted it. Their sacrifice, it's part of service and duty. We're taught it's something to honor, not…. But this is… Shepard is….”

“Different?” she offered.

He hung his head. “Yeah. Honor, service, and duty… it all rings hollow right now. She was... more than that.”

He could feel Liara’s eyes on him, thoughtful, caring. “Did you love her, Garrus?”

The question, direct, intrusive, and too damn late. “Did I….” He sighed, not quite able to repeat the word, despite having no doubt of the truth of it. “Why would you ask me that?”

Her mouth twitched with barely contained grief, and she shrugged. “Why not? There's nothing left to protect, Garrus. No mission to focus on. No boundaries to respect. No fearing or hoping how she might respond if she knew how you felt. All that's left is you, your grief, and… a thousand what-ifs.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

Garrus sensed the confession beneath her words. “Liara, are we really talking about me here?”

A smile flickered and quickly disappeared. “About both of us, I think.” She looked down at her fidgeting hands. “I never really told Shepard how I felt. I thought you might be able to relate to that…. She was with Kaidan, and… I did not wish to interfere, did not wish to complicate things for her…. But, I still hoped, believed even, that their relationship would burn out in due course, and she would come to see in me a... lasting companion… who loves her dearly.” Tears were falling freely from Liara’s eyes.

He looked away. “I never hoped for that.”

“Oh, Liara said, flustered. “I'm sorry. I'd thought--”

“If it hadn't been Kaidan, it would have been someone else,” he continued. “Maybe you. I could see that... Not me, though. I had no illusions there. No... hopes.” The subtext of his confession hovered between them. He wasn’t sure if he had told Liara for his sake or her own. 

Liara’s eyes widened slightly as the full weight of his words settled on her. “Garrus,” she said his name with a note of what sounded like pity.

He didn’t want pity. “Shepard was my commander and my friend. That was plenty.”

As Liara looked at him, her gaze softened. “I... understand,” she said, and Garrus believed she did.

Garrus felt something in his spirit unhitch at sharing his feelings for Shepard, however withholding. Like pulling a snagged thread from a nail. The tightness in his chest loosened, and Garrus took a deep freeing breath.

“I’m not okay, Liara.”

Chapter Text

Joker scowled from his bed as Garrus walked through the door of his hospital room. “Oh great, another visitor here to make me feel like crap.”

“You want me to go?” Garrus asked. He was there to make peace, but it wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be.

“No, stay. By all means tell me about how it's not my fault and how the choice was Shepard's. Maybe you can even manage to make eye contact with me while you say it.” He shook his head. “Kaidan might be an asshole, but at least a punch in the face is honest.”

Under the sarcasm, Garrus detected a sincere invitation. So he took a seat next to the bed, trying to gather his thoughts.

Joker looked at him expectantly and shrugged. “Well?”

“Well….” Where to start? “How are you feeling?”

He scoffed. “I'm fine. Surgery went fine. They're just keeping me here for psych eval. Survivor's guilt. Whatever.”

“I heard you put in a request to Alliance command asking that they cancel Kaidan’s disciplinary hearing.”

“Yeah. Kaidan punching me is probably the closest thing to justice Shepard will get. A court martial would just mess that up.”

“You're glad he did it?”

“I'm pretty sure everyone is,” he said, with his usual biting tone. “They just don't want to admit it.”

“It was… cathartic,” Garrus granted, keeping his tone light.

Joker snorted. “Thanks.”

“Shepard wouldn't have seen it that way, though.” 

Joker fell silent and stared down at his hands. Garrus was grateful. It would be easier to get through this without the defensive sarcasm.

“She would probably have said something like, lashing out at the person she gave her life to protect dishonours her sacrifice and everything she stood for,” Garrus said, his own shame rattling through his subvocals.

Joker’s eyes began to tear up as he studied the wrinkles in the white hospital linens.

“And it may sound trite,” Garrus continued, “especially after what I said on the flight deck… but she wouldn't want you to blame yourself.”

“Right,” Joker muttered.

“Shepard won't get justice, Joker,” Garrus said, his voice and heart catching on the words. “We'll have to accept that.”

Joker looked at him, his eyes red and his face still swollen from surgery. “Can you?” he asked. “Accept that, I mean?”

A shuddering breath rose in Garrus' chest. “I don't know,” he said honestly. “Shepard told me once that she believes the dead are beyond concerns of vengeance. But I kind of just want something to shoot at right now.”

“You’re not armed, right?” Joker asked with a snort.

Garrus laughed. “Nah. We’re good.”

“Maybe you’re good,” Joker said, his biting tone back. “I still think you’re a jerk with a stick up his ass.”

“Fair enough.”

Chapter Text

Brutal. That was the only word Garrus could think of to describe Shepard’s memorial: Brutal. He needed a drink. Or ten. So he installed himself in the nearest bar and told the bartender to keep the whiskey coming. He was three deep when a human claimed the stool next to him. 

“Please, please don't tell me you're sorry for my loss,” the man began before Garrus had fully placed him. “I can't deal with another platitude today.”

The connection clicked into place: Curtis Shepard. The brother-in-law who’d known Shepard her whole life. He remembered the way Shepard had lit up with pride talking about Curtis. Garrus hadn’t come to the bar for company. Quite the opposite, really. But after hearing tribute after tribute drone on about Shepard’s service and heroics, he felt grateful to this man who had stood up in front of a room full of Shepard’s crew and superiors and said simply, Fuck each and every one of you for letting her die. I hope you choke on these very fine horderves.  

“Fair enough. No platitudes,” Garrus said. “Can I buy you a drink, then?”

“ God, yes,” Curtis said with a laugh. “Rum and coke.”

Garrus signaled to the nearby bartender who promptly got Curtis his drink.

Curtis sipped his beverage and looked at Garrus critically. “Do you mind the company?” he asked. “I don't want to intrude if you're mid-brood.”

“Nah,” Garrus said. “I just finished a brooding session, actually, and I'm not due to start my next one for another hour, so your timing is pretty good.”

Curtis grinned. “Excellent luck! I'm not much of a brooder myself. I tend to put all my feelings right out there.” He waved his hand across the polished surface of the bar. “So, fair warning. I will cry on you. It’s just where I’m at.”

“Noted,” Garrus said, raising his glass.

Curtis looked at him as though he was considering something. Then he set his drink down with a decided nod. “Okay, I'm just going to get it out of the way right off the bat: You were in love with my sister.”

The candid truth of the accusation hit Garrus like a blaster. “I… what?”

He grinned knowingly. “You heard me.”

“Uh... You might be confusing me with Alenko,” Garrus said, unwilling to confess to this familiar stranger. “Don't worry about it. It happens all the time. Same jaw line.”

Curtis laughed. “Nope. I could hear it in your tribute and his at the memorial. Kaidan worshipped The Commander Shepard, there’s no doubt about it…. But you ,” he said, pointing his finger at Garrus. “You loved Cassidy .”

Cassidy. It was strange: all this time and he’d never heard anyone use Shepard’s first name. He’d seen it in her record, of course, but had never heard it said out loud, had never thought to use it himself. Now he explored the feel of it in his mouth, his tongue silently and tenderly shaping it.   

Curtis took another sip from his drink and shrugged. “I can't fault Kaidan, really. Most people only ever meet The Commander Shepard. You could hear it at the service from fucking everyone: hero, paragon, service, sacrifice, blah blah blah.” For an instant he looked ill, but he recovered himself with a shake of his head. “Cass is… She was pretty slow to show anything else. And anyone who sees past that armor of hers is either really perceptive or is someone who puts in the work…. And judging by the things you said about her, I have a feeling you're a bit of both.”

Garrus threw back his drink. Had she really let him past the armor? He might have seen more than most, but she’d never been Cassidy to him. “We were friends,” Garrus said.

Curtis narrowed his eyes doubtfully but nodded. “Alright. You don't have to be romantic or hot-and-heavy for it to be love. Maybe that's the way you both wanted it: platonic adoration. But I'm getting an unrequited vibe off of you,” he said, wriggling his fingers in Garrus’ direction.  

“A what?” Garrus said, feeling both annoyed and curious at the intrusiveness. 

“Okay, maybe ‘unrequited’ isn’t the right word. More like a heaviness of things left unsaid.”

“I get the feeling you don't have much first hand experience with leaving things unsaid,” Garrus said.

Curtis laughed good naturedly, but his smile abruptly faded, and he stared into his drink. “I used to hold more back, you know. Shit, I was practically aloof…. But then I lost almost everyone I ever loved in a single day. And the unsaid stuff kind of haunts me.” He sniffed as tears gathered in his eyes. “The one bit of consolation I have in Cass' passing is that she absolutely knew exactly what she meant to me.” His gaze fixed onto Garrus. “Can you say the same?”

Garrus looked away. This was all so pointless. But compelled by alcohol or just a need to be unburdened, he found himself answering: "No. She didn't know how I felt. Not all of it."

Curtis raised a glass. "Tell me."

Garrus shook his head. "Why bother? She's gone."

Curtis shrugged. "I don't know. Because talking about feelings is healing? And Cass would want you to heal…. Also I'm nosey and honestly just desperate to hear someone talk about Cassidy without saying the word 'hero.'"

Garrus considered Curtis. There was something of Shepard in those warm eyes. Like they'd absorbed some of each other in a lifetime of closeness. Curtis had none of Shepard's delicacy, of course. And Shepard was far more guarded. But still, Garrus had the sense Shepard and Curtis had shaped one another, and some shining fragment of her soul rested with this smiling man sitting next to him. This man who thought it mattered that Garrus had loved his sister. 

"You're sure you want to do this?" Garrus asked. "You already heard me talk at the memorial."

Curtis smiled. "I'm sure. Tell me about you and Cassidy. No funeral filter this time. And I’m serious, if you call her a hero, I’m leaving."

“I'm… uh… I'm not really sure where to start?”

“Why not the beginning? First impression.”

“Well, you know we met just after her mission to Eden Prime, right?”

Curtis nodded. “A rogue C-sec agent and the first human Spectre locked eyes across the crowded atrium of the Citadel Tower. Time slowed. All you could hear was your own slow heartbeat. She looked angelic with the cherry blossoms raining down on her shoulders. She took your breath away and never gave it back.”

Garrus choked on his drink and cleared his throat. “Uh. Not quite. But she did leave an impression.” 

“How so?”

“I'd thought I knew what to expect with her. I'd heard about Elysium, of course… seen the footage, and… well… I'm a Turian; if there's one thing I know, it's military types: soldiers, war heroes, commanders, generals. I've known a lot of them. Even granting that she was human, how different could she be?" He laughed. "Pretty damn different, it turns out." 

“Different how?” Curtis asked a little stiffly. “The way I hear it, The Commander Shepard was a model soldier. The Best of the Alliance. They even slapped her image on the recruitment brochures.” His lip curled in a tight, resentful smile.

“She was… I don't know… tender, I guess. She didn't have calluses over her feelings like other seasoned soldiers I'd known. And she definitely wasn't a typical spectre. She cared so damn much about everyone.” He laughed. “Just after we met she yelled at me for shooting a gunman before a hostage was clear. Completely disarmed me… er… emotionally speaking…. Though she probably could have taken my gun too if she'd tried.”

Curtis smiled genuinely. “Fell that hard and fast, huh?”

“I don't know. Maybe that was the beginning of it. But at the time, I just thought, a person like her would be worth following. She was going to do good. And I wanted to be a part of that…. And then I learned about Mindoir, and things started to shift.”

“Mindoir? You mean the Batarian attack?”

Garrus nodded.

Curtis’ eyes widened. “She talked to you about that? She won't even talk to me about that.”

“We didn't talk details,” Garrus assured him. “But I know enough about Batarian slavers to read between the lines of what she said... and didn't say.” He shook his head, refusing the pull of his thoughts, beckoning him to dwell on those unspoken traumas Shepard had endured. “I don’t know who she was before the attack, but I know it should have broken her. The fact that it didn’t..."

Curtis frowned. “It did. Cass was in a bad place for a long time after. She worked hard to pick up the pieces of herself, and even then, there were still triggers that brought her back to Mindoir. And this darkness would settle on her.”

Garrus remembered. 

“She could function through it, hide it from most people, pass every psych eval they threw at her, but the trauma was still with her.”

“I got that impression,” Garrus said softly. “That made her all the more remarkable. She didn’t survive by turning into unfeeling stone. She felt deeply, and being willing to feel after all she’d experienced… I can’t imagine the strength and courage that it took to face every day.”  

“So is that when you realized you were in love with her?” Curtis asked.

“Ha! One would think so…. But you’re underestimating just how dense I can be.” He took another shot, steeling himself. “Virmire. Virmire was when I knew.

Curtis’ brow furrowed. “Virmire? Why then?”

“Because I knew Shepard by then. I knew she felt it. She made the hard call. The right call. And she did it without the calluses to protect herself from the fallout. When she said goodbye to Ash, she wasn't just thinking of duty and honor in sacrifice…. She was thinking about Ash's sisters and mom, about how much Ash had grown in the months she'd served on the Normandy, about all the moments Ash would never have because Shepard had sent her to her death…. I could see it all play out on Shepard's face, and she still made the call…. I couldn't fathom the strength it must have taken for a person like Shepard to make a call like that... how much it hurt her.” The memory of it quivered underneath his voice. “And in that moment, all I wanted was to take that pain from her, take all the pain from her… to make her burden my burden… And I thought, if I spent the rest of my life watching Shepard's back, making everything she had to carry a little lighter, being the shoulder, or gun, or friend she needed… that would be a life well spent.”

“Damn,” Curtis whispered, voice strained and shaken.

“It hit me like a calling,” Garrus continued. “I was meant to be by her side, always.... I knew then that I loved her.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud. “I loved Shepard.”

For several minutes they sat in silence, both staring into their drinks, lost in thoughts and feelings that didn’t need to be given voice.

“Do you regret that she died without knowing what you felt for her?” Curtis asked, still staring at his drink.

Garrus shook his head. “I didn't have any illusions or expectations. We weren't ever going to be anything but friends, and I was fine with that; never had a better friend…. She was in my life. That's what mattered.”

Curtis looked at him with pinched brows. “But why write off the possibility of sex and romance?”

Garrus snorted. “No interest on her end, for one.... Different species for another.” He shook his head. “I wouldn't even know how that would work: a Turian with a Human. Culturally…. Biologically .”

Curtis laughed at him. “Seriously? You could always crack a book. Do a little research. It's not like human and turian sex has never happened before.”

“Maybe,” Garrus said hesitantly, not wanting to entertain regret. “But by the time I'd sorted out how I felt, she was with Kaidan. I wasn't going to interfere with that.”

“Respectful of you,” Curtis said flatly. “But I don't think that relationship would have lasted much longer.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I've known….” He cut himself off with a sigh. “Damn it…. I knew Cass her whole life. That hero worship thing Kaidan gave her, it probably felt great when she was trying to save the galaxy, made her feel like the big goddamn ‘hero’ she needed to be…. But it would have gotten old. She wants to be appreciated and admired just like any of us. But mutual understanding, support, and trust? That's really what she needs in a partner…. Fuck. Needed .” Curtis covered his eyes with his hand. “I can't seem to wrap my head around the past-tense.”

“I can't imagine what it's like for you, losing her after being in each other's lives for so long,” Garrus said. He’d known Shepard for less than a year, and it was still hard for him to imagine the rest of his life without her in it.

“It's strange,” Curtis said, propping his chin on his hand, tears shining on his face. “Since Mindoir and especially since Cass joined the Alliance, I've been braced for losing her.”

Garrus nodded. “She'd mentioned that: every chime at your door could be an Admiral with a folded flag and her dog tags in a box.”

He barked out a single laugh. “I didn't even get the damn dog tags! I've spent the last 15 years expecting Cass to die in the middle of some fucked heroic stunt. But now that she's actually gone, it doesn't feel real.”

“Yeah,” Garrus said, thinking of Kaidan’s stubborn refusal to believe the reality of Shepard’s death. “It's hard to find closure when someone is MIA. Having a body makes it real, because there's no room for denial. Without the physical proof, you have to constantly talk yourself out of hoping. Convince yourself that there's no chance.”

Curtis’ met Garrus eyes. “And there isn't any chance. Right?”

Garrus looked at the colorful bottles lining the wall behind the bar. He wondered why it had fallen on him to repeatedly and relentlessly dash everyone’s hopes for Shepard’s survival. “I wish there was. But, no, not even Shepard could have survived that. The best we can hope for is that it was quick.” Damnit, he hoped it was quick.

Curtis’ face pinched with grief. But he nodded. “She was only 29. Did you know that? 29! People assume she was older.”

“Yeah,” he said heavily. With the risks Shepard took, it was practically a miracle she’d lived as long as she had. “I don’t think people like her often make it to dying in bed, surrounded by grandchildren. She did a hell of a lot of good in 29 years, though.”

Curtis sighed. “We never really talked much about her work. She knew I worried, so she'd downplay the danger of it…. Then I saw the footage of Elysium. It was everywhere. I couldn't avoid it.”

Garrus remembered the footage: a lone human soldier, standing at the mouth of a makeshift barricade, single handedly taking on wave after wave of Batarian raiders, with nothing but a pistol and biotics, while colonists trembled behind her, waiting for her to fall. Even the Asari used the footage from Elysium to instruct huntresses in the strategic use of singularities and biotic detonation in defensive crowd control.

“Probably a lot harder to downplay the risks she'd take after that,” Garrus said.

“And harder to deny that it would eventually get her fucking killed.” Curtis threw back the remainder of his drink and chewed the inside of his cheek, just like Shepard did. “Can I ask you something, Garrus? Something personal?”

Garrus laughed. “Oh, are we just now getting personal?”

Curtis smiled weakly, then frowned. “That day on the Normandy… Did you know Cass was going up to the cockpit to save the pilot?”

Garrus’ chest tightened at the memory. “No. Not until after my pod had already launched.”

Curtis traced the woodgrain of the bartop with his index finger. “If you had known… would you have stopped her?”

“No,” Garrus said with certainty, even as his stomach twisted against it. “I would have tried to convince her that there wasn't time, that Joker had made his choice…. But she wouldn't have listened. She'd have ordered me to a pod just like she did with Kaidan. And just like Kaidan, I would have followed orders.”

Curtis nodded as tears overcame him.

Garrus put a hand on Curtis' shoulder, understanding his desperate desire to put the blame for his sister’s death on someone, anyone , but her. “No one would have been able to convince her to leave him behind, Curtis. Not while there was still a chance of saving him. That’s who she was.” 

“And was he worth dying for?” Curtis asked, his voice straining.

Garrus didn’t have to say it. Shepard had been worth more to him than every person on that ship. Even if she’d been the only survivor, Garrus would have stood by his math. But she’d seen things differently. “He was worth it to Shepard,” Garrus said weakly.

Curtis pressed his palms to his eyes and grimaced. “God! I'm so fucking mad at her. She left me all alone for what? To save some snarky jackass who wouldn't follow orders? Fuck that.”

Garrus released his shoulder. “If it helps, Joker feels the same way... I'm not sure he'll ever get past this guilt.” He shrugged. “And I’m okay with that.”

Curtis laughed and raised his glass to Garrus. “Do you know what's going to happen to the crew? I don't suppose you'll stay together? Get a new ship? A new commander?”

Garrus shook his head. “The Alliance crew is all being broken up, reassigned to new posts. Tali, Liara, and I are all being cut loose.”

“So what's next for you, then?

Garrus sighed. He’d been losing sleep over just that question. “Shepard left things unfinished. Sovereign wasn't the end of the Reaper threat, but the Council’s chosing to ignore it.... She'd planned to start building alliances and tracking down more evidence…. I should carry on that work. But without a ship, Spectre status, and Shepard's talents for building bridges, I don't see a path forward to make it happen.” He set his glass down firmly with a nod of determination. “I'm gonna try, though. I'll go back to C-sec. See if I can dig up evidence in the wreckage or in the station itself…. It's a long shot, and even if I find anything, it's not like the Council will listen. But it's the best I've got.” 

Curtis smiled wryly. “Your confidence is staggering.”

“Yeah.... I want to follow Shepard's example, do her proud… but I'm not her. And she set a damn high bar.”

“Garrus,” Curtis said with a pitying expression. “Cass wouldn't expect you to be her. She'd want you to walk your own path, and find whatever peace you can.”

“As my friend, yeah. That's exactly what she'd want…. But as my commander, she'd expect me… expect all of us to do whatever it takes to carry on the mission and prevent the Reaper invasion.”

Curtis rolled his eyes. “You're probably right.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw and looked at Garrus critically. “You know, I've been thinking of myself as the only person who knows the real Cassidy. Like ‘Commander Shepard’ is just a mask she wears. But, talking to you, maybe it's more like Cassidy and Commander Shepard were two sides of the same coin. And both were real, authentic parts of who she was. I loved Cassidy… Kaidan loved Commander Shepard… And you might be the only person who loved both sides of her. The only person who she let see both sides of her.”

He could hear the bitter hurt in Curtis’ voice. “You knew Cassidy best, Curtis. She was always Shepard to me.”

“I think you knew her better than you’re giving yourself credit for. She let you in, or you intuited it.” His face brightened a little as he continued to look into Garrus’ eyes. “She would have fallen for you eventually, Garrus.”

Garrus looked away and shook his head. It was too much to even contemplate the hypothetical. “You don't have to do that,” he said. 

“I mean it,” Curtis continued, unaware of the cruelty of his words. “In a parallel universe, where the pilot followed orders, the thing with Kaidan would have fizzled out in a few months tops. But her friendship with you would have deepened. And eventually she would have realized how great you'd be together, if she hadn't started to realize it already.”

“Not much of a comfort. The pilot didn’t follow orders.”

“But it's okay to grieve the roads not taken, Garrus. You lost a lot. You should acknowledge how much.”

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. “I lost a damn good friend,” Garrus said firmly. “That’s plenty.”

Chapter Text

How many times had he dreamed of her arriving just like this? It had to be approaching 100 by now. He’d be in one tight spot or another, and then she’d arrive, bathed in blue light, to save the damn day. Just like this. He had to admit that she’d seemed especially real to him a few minutes ago, but then she always did. He knew her by heart, afterall, so why would his dreams conjure anything less than a perfect lie? 

Now that things were starting to go hazy and dark and quiet, she was beginning to slip back into the ether. And didn’t the dreams always end like this? He’d die, or she’d die, or she’d wisp away on the wind like a phantom. So as she crouched over him, clutching his hand, saying his name, begging him to hold on, he knew it was just a cruel joke of his subconscious; he could never quite hold on to her. Soon Sidonis would be shaking him awake. You were shouting her name in your sleep again, Garrus. Keep this up and you’ll blow your cover with the rest of the team. But no, Sidonis had betrayed the team. They were dead. Or was that all part of the dream? Or was Shepard a death bed hallucination? Or... 

Garrus gasped. He was somewhere cool and bright with none of the metallic smell that was so pervasive on Omega. Was he dead then? Was being dead supposed to hurt this much?

“Ah good,” came a distantly familiar voice. “You're awake. How do you feel?”

Garrus blinked away the blurriness in his eyes to find an older human standing over him. “Doctor Chakwas?,” he said, unbelieving. He was in a hospital bed. A clean hospital bed. How had he gotten off Omega? “Where am I?” he asked a little frantically. This had to be a dream.

“You’re safe, Garrus,” the doctor said gently. “You're in the medical bay of the Normandy SR-2.”

“SR-2?” he asked, his head spinning with questions as he looked around him, desperate for confirmation that he was neither dead nor dreaming. Because if he was really on the Normandy SR-2, then Shepard was really....

“Easy,” Doctor Chakwas said kindly. “You sustained severe injuries. It was close. We’re lucky Commander Shepard got you here in time… Surgery went well. You're going to be alright. But you will have some scarring--”

“Shepard,” he breathed, unable to hear anything else the doctor was saying. “It wasn't a dream, then. Shepard is really….” He couldn’t say it. It was too fragile a possibility. Too fragile an impossibility .

Doctor Chakwas smiled with understanding. “It wasn't a dream. Commander Shepard is alive. Just a deck above us, as a matter of fact.”

She couldn’t be. But as his head started to clear, the dream-like impression he’d had of seeing Shepard was also beginning to lift. She had been real. She was real. Real and alive. Real and alive and here . “ How ?” he asked, mystified. “There was no way she could have survived the attack on the Normandy.”

“She didn't,” the doctor said matter-of-factly. “Not technically. Cerberus recovered her body. They spent a pretty penny bringing her back, too. Reanimating and cloning dead tissue and organs. Restoring neural activity to her brain. Installing cybernetics where needed. She's been in a coma for two years while Cerberus scientists revived her.”

His thoughts felt scattered. Body. Reanimation. Coma…. “Cerberus?” Garrus grumbled. Certainly if anyone had the resources for that kind of undertaking, it would be Cerberus. But what would they want with Shepard?

“I know,” Doctor Chakwas said with gravity. “I was dubious at first as well. But the Collectors are abducting entire human colonies. Possibly working for the Reapers. No matter their past and present involvement in ethically questionable activities, Cerberus is the only organization taking the Collectors and the Reaper threat seriously. And they know Shepard is our best hope… our only hope to face that threat.”

It was a lot to take in. Chakwas sounded defensive. She’d been backed into a corner by the Reaper threat and the Council’s and Alliance’s continued inaction. But more than that, it sounded like exactly the way to back Shepard into a corner. Shepard who was alive and real and here.

“I need to see her,” he said, starting to get up. The searing pain in his right side wasn’t going to stop him. He had to see her. Had to see Shepard, who was here and real and alive.

Doctor Chakwas held him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Not so fast, Garrus. What you need right now is rest . Shepard will visit you here later.”

Later? “No,” he said grunting through the pain as he got up from the bed and onto his feet. “I need to see her. Now.”

Doctor Chakwas crossed her arms and sat down on her desk chair. “Fine. Suit yourself. But don't expect me to glue you back together again when your face falls off.”

Garrus froze in his step and touched the large bandage that covered the right side of his face. “Uhh. Do you have a mirror?” he asked.

Chakwas swiveled in her chair to face her desk. “Only cooperative patients get mirrors.”    

“Commander Shepard can be found on deck 2 in the briefing room,” an artificial voice said as he exited the med bay.

Garrus nodded but didn’t break his stride. He needed to see Shepard. Had she mentioned Cerberus or the coma on Omega? He couldn’t remember. But he could remember her , standing in front of him then fighting beside him. Just like old times .

But now she was with Cerberus. Cerberus. With the history she had with the terrorist organization, Garrus couldn’t help but feel deeply uneasy about this new arrangement. Were they really just allying with Shepard to defeat a shared enemy? It would certainly be rational of them, given the threat the Reapers posed. Or was Cerberus playing a deeper game? 

His hands tightened into fists as he boarded the elevator. Shepard was risking a lot. But what else was new?... Well, Shepard not being dead, for one. Still, if Cerberus had plans to turn on Shepard, Garrus would be there to make sure this risk wouldn’t turn out as deadly as the last one.

Garrus exited the elevator and almost walked right into a red-haired human. “Oh!” she exclaimed, stepping back. “We weren’t expecting you to be up already! I’m Kelly Chambers. Welcome to the Normandy SR--”

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted more gruffly than he’d intended.

“Uh… Of course. Through there, then make a left, and a right into the briefing room.”

“Thanks,” he said, walking purposefully in the direction she’d pointed. 

It was strange walking through the ship. Not quite the same as the SR-1, but close enough that it left Garrus with a haunted impression. And here he was just a few meters from the ghost herself. She hadn’t survived, that’s what Chakwas had said. Shepard had died, and now she was here. Alive. He could hear her voice just beyond the doors: real, alive, and unmistakably her .

And then she was there. In front of him again. “Shepard.” The name he’d called out so many times in his sleep over the last two years was now being uttered to the woman herself. The woman he’d loved and lost, who was now here .

She smiled at him, happy, relieved. The human with her said something to him, but all Garrus could think of was how his stomach swooped and his chest filled with light at the sight of Shepard. Commander Shepard. Cassidy Shepard.

“A rocket to the face, and you're back up on your feet in a couple hours?” She tutted. “You’re slipping, Garrus.” The familiar cadence of her banter sent a tingling feeling across his skin.

“Says the person who just took two whole years to recover from a teeny tiny star ship explosion?” he teased.

    “And now we both have the scars to prove how very tough we are,” she said, tilting her head to get a better look at the right side of his face.

“ No one will give me a mirror. How bad is it?” he asked, not wanting to think of how she’d won her own glowing scars.

A flicker of a cringe tightened her face, and then her teasing smile returned. “Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face paint on there and no one will notice.”

He laughed and instantly regretted it as the medical adhesive strained. “Ah,” he said, clutching his face. “ Don't make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is .” Then something irrepressible came over him. He was walking toward her, body loose and flirtatious. “You know, Shepard,” he said, subvocals humming the subtext, “ some women find facial scars attractive… Mind you, most of those women are Krogan.” Why had he done that? He privately chastised himself.

But Shepard laughed it off. “Well, you always have that soothing voice to compensate for any lack of visual appeal. I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about, big guy.”

A familiar nervous buzz of energy thrilled through Garrus. Just like old times .

The man with Shepard, whom Garrus had completely forgotten, saluted and left the room. At his departure Shepard’s affect shifted instantly, like a mask had slipped from her. He hadn’t realized how tense she had been before until he saw that tension lift. She was softer now but much sadder.

“ Frankly, I'm more worried about you ,” Garrus said, his own tone shifting in kind. “Cerberus, Shepard? Doctor Chakwas gave me the run-down... Sounds like you're in a tense spot.”

She cringed. “You could say that. Nothing like crawling into bed with the enemy. But that's why I'm glad you're here. If I'm walking into hell, I need someone I can trust at my side .”

“ You do realize this plan has me walking into hell, too ?” he joked, but gravity edged his timbre. “ Just like old times .”

She shook her head and looked past him. “I know I'm asking a lot. You have every right to walk away from this.”

“Not a chance, Shepard. I'm with you.” How could she doubt it?

She smiled and met his eyes. “You don't even know the details yet.”

He closed the rest of the distance between them. “I'm with you.”

“This is likely a suicide mission, through the Omega relay. Chances are we won’t come back.”

His lungs constricted at the thought of losing her again. But all the more reason for him to be there by her side. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Shepard,” he said, putting two years of grief and love into the shape of her name. “I'm with you.”

She blushed and looked up at him with almost more sadness and gratitude than Garrus could bear. “I've missed you.”

“ You've missed me ?” Garrus said with a bewildered laugh. “Didn't you just wake up from a two year coma?”

She grinned. “What can I say? You left an impression.” Her smile faded and her gaze fell from his face. “When I heard you'd dropped off the grid, I was gutted.”

Omega. His hand fell from her shoulder. “Try spending two years thinking your best friend is dead.”

Her brow furrowed. “I'm sorry,” she said with heart-breaking sincerity.

Garrus felt immediately guilty for putting that on her. “Wasn't like you had a choice,” he said, stepping back the blame. “You're back now.” She really, really was. He shook his head in disbelief as a wave of gratitude pushed thoughts of Omega aside. “Ha. I can hardly believe it.”

“Yeah,” she said heavily.

Garrus searched her face. “You okay?”

Shepard pressed her palms into the shining surface of the holo-table and hung her head. “I don't know. I haven't really had a chance to get my bearings... I literally woke up in the thick of it: gunfire, Cerberus… And now this mission….  Can't seem to catch my breath.”

He knew the feeling. He wanted desperately to hold her close, let her ride out this storm in his arms. But he had a storm or two of his own and was in no place to be her anchor. Still, there were worse things than being tossed about in the wind with Shepard. He put a hand on her back and sighed at the continued realness of her. “Well,” he said in as steady a voice as he could manage, “in case it needs repeating: I'm with you, Shepard, whatever you need, no matter what.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled sadly at him. “Thank you, Garrus. That means a lot.” She turned, breaking their contact, and leaned back against the table. “You should probably get some rest. Heal up.... I'm going to need you at your best. We'll have more time to talk when I get back.”

“Get back?” Garrus said, alarm squeaking through his subvocals. “You’re not planning on leaving me behind, are you?”

“Afraid so. I need to go through the Omega quarantine zone. No Turians allowed. Besides, you haven’t gotten the green light from medical yet. So, if you want to come on the next mission, I suggest you follow whatever Doctor’s orders you're so determined to ignore right now.”

“Okay,” he said grudgingly. “You’re the commander. I'll get some sleep then see what I can do at the forward batteries.” As the door opened at his approach, he looked back at Shepard over his shoulder. She was beautiful, scars and all. “It's damn good to have you back, Shepard. Just… do me a favor and try not to find too much action without me.”

“No promises,” she said with a grin.

Chapter Text

Sleep didn’t come easily. Every time Garrus’ mind started to lazily drift, a deep fear gripped him in a sudden surge of adrenaline. His heart and breath would race as he looked around him in a panic. Once his eyes confirmed that he was still in the barracks of the SR-2, his body and mind would calm, only to repeat the same cycle again.

Eventually he abandoned his efforts, and made his way to the forward battery. But even targeting algorithms couldn’t calm him.

Everything felt too tenuous. Maybe it was being back on a ship that looked so much like the original Normandy and remembering how quickly that state-of-the-art vessel had been reduced to charred debris. Maybe it was Shepard and remembering how quickly that peerless soldier had been reduced to… 

“EDI?” he called to the ship’s AI, his heart racing into nonexistent battle.

“Yes, Mister Vakarian?”

“Is Commander Shepard still on the station?”

“Affirmative. Commander Shepard, Zaeed Massani, and Jacob Taylor are currently on Omega Station. Biometric data indicates all parties’ lifesigns are within acceptable parameters.”

Garrus exhaled heavily. At least that was something. But, still he felt like he was on the cusp of climbing the damn walls. He knew Shepard had left him behind for good reasons; he would have been a liability between the plague and his injuries. But it tortured him to know she was facing Omega without him there to watch her back. 

Who were these people she was trusting with her life now? Cerberus agents? A mercenary ? They didn’t know how she fought or how to watch her back like he did. They could get her killed. Again.

He disassembled his rifle. And paced. He cleaned the components. And paced. He reassembled it. And paced. He swapped out his mods a dozen times. And paced. 

“EDI?” he asked again, his voice gravelly. “Status of Commander Shepard?”

“Commander Shepard remains ashore. Her lifesigns are within acceptable parameters.”

He paced.

“Mister Vakarian?” EDI’s voice returned, making him jump. “May I suggest enjoying a soothing cup of herbal tea while you await the Commander’s return? The Normandy’s mess hall is supplied with several varieties compatible with Turian physiology. Perhaps a ‘sleepy sulaberry’ or a ‘calming caldiminty mint tea?’”

Garrus laughed in spite of himself. “Sorry, is the ship telling me I need to relax?”

“The health and wellbeing of the Normandy’s crew is one of my operative parameters,” it said.

“Uh huh,” he muttered.

"The Normandy has an extensive library of relaxing reading options for the crew to enjoy during 'down time.' Shall I read you a selection of Quarian poetry?"

"Uh… no."

"Perhaps a vid? The remastered director's cut of Fleet and Flotilla has recently been released for at-home viewing. It features 13 additional hours of deleted scenes, bloopers, and behind the scenes--"

"No. Thank you."

"I have noticed you have a premium account with Galactix Music Unlimited. I can extrapolate from your 'favorites' list to curate a selection of recommended new artists you will be inclined to enjoy. Shall I--"

"Another time, okay?"

"Very well….. The benefits of meditation are--”

“EDI!” he snapped. “Why are you… Just…” He took a deep breath, quieting his urge to shoot the damn interface. “Just… tell me if Shepard’s status changes. Okay?”

“Understood, Mister Vakarian.”

He shook his head and sat down on a nearby crate. The ship thought he was too tightly wound. That couldn’t be a good sign. But he didn’t need EDI to tell him he was in a bad place. Between Sidonis’ betrayal and Shepard’s return, fate’s pendulum was swinging a little more roughly than usual. True, Shepard was miraculously back in his life, but Garrus was braced for the return swing that could send her back to the beyond.

“She can handle herself,” he assured himself in barely a whisper. She’d survived Mindoir against all odds. She’d defended Elysium single-handedly. The Alliance had trained her to be an exceptional solo operative. She knew how to size up a situation and play to her strengths. Even if her backup couldn’t cover her, she’d notice and adjust.

N7, Spectre, and one of the most highly decorated young soldiers in the Alliance; she’d gotten this far for good reason. A Biotic powerhouse who was as wicked a shot with a pistol as Garrus had ever seen. And who was she fighting? A bunch of Batarians and Turians with a deadly plague rattling through their lungs? They wouldn’t stand a chance against her if they decided to pick a fight. 

Shepard wouldn’t die in those slums. He knew that, rationally. She had her limits, but this wasn’t it. Chances were she’d come back to the ship, barely sweaty, Salarian doctor in tow, and announce she’d cured the plague, repaired the water filtration system, found a lost family heirloom, and rescued the blacksmith’s daughter. All in a day’s work.

Garrus laughed, and the tension gripping his body loosened a little. Shepard would be back soon. And Garrus would be there for the next mission, and the next. So when she did come up against something that exceeded her abilities, he’d be able to keep her in one piece.     

Chapter Text

“Commander Shepard is aboard,” EDI’s voice announced over the comm. “Director Lawson stands relieved.”     And Garrus could breathe a little easier.

He considered seeking her out, to see her, ask about the mission, or maybe just to be proximate to her continued existence. But he refused the temptation. She’d need to get out of her armor, probably shower, check in with her XO…. I can wait , he told himself, even as his right leg bounced impatiently.

He didn’t have to wait long. Shepard was at the entrance to the battery in a matter of minutes, still shining with sweat. “EDI tells me you’re anxious for an update?” she said, pulling a second crate into a position perpendicular to the one on which he was planted. She sat on the crate, her knees bumping into his own, and rubbed the sheen from her forehead with her sleeve.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, unsure of exactly how embarrassed he should be. “I just realized I hadn’t properly briefed you on Omega before you left. I was worried you might stumble into some unknowns.”

She shook her head. “Nothing I couldn’t adapt to. It would have been good to have you along, though; Zaeed lacks your depth perception.”

“Ha! Don’t be so sure, Shepard; I haven’t taken the new cybernetic eye out for a test drive yet.”

“Well if it needs to be calibrated , it’s certainly landed itself in the right man’s socket,” she said with a wink. “And if my own substantial rebuild is any indication, Cerberus doesn’t mess around in the cyborg department. Everything works pretty much just like it did. Eyes included.”

Garrus looked into her eyes, the same warm gray they’d always been. “Those are…”

“A combination of cloning and cybernetics,” she said. “I’m told it’s the same story for most of me. Pretty much my entire cardiovascular system is a rebuild. Skin is all new, too. I guess between the asphyxiation and being pretty well cooked from the heat of the blast….”

A shuddering inhale escaped him, and Shepard gave him an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “That just took me a little off guard. I’ve been trying not to think about how you…”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you without a warning…. If it helps, I don’t really remember it.”

He hoped she was telling the truth. “What do you remember?” he asked, needing to know, despite the pain of it.

She scratched her cheek and squinted at a distant point. “Getting Joker to the pod. Losing my grip when the blast hit…. The rest is more like watching a vid. I know what happened, but it doesn’t feel like it happened to me. Then I just… got sleepy, and everything faded to black.”

“Small mercies,” he said heavily.

“Yeah. Maybe a bigger mercy if the blast had done me in an instant. But then I probably would have been a lost cause.”

“And so would I,” he said. “I’d never have made it off Omega without you rising from the dead to pull my carapace out of the fire.”

She leaned back into the wall behind her and folded her arms over her chest. “You were in pretty deep. Do you want to tell me now how that happened?”

He shrugged, unsure if he’d ever really want to tell her. “I tried to do some good, and things went sideways from there.”

She stared into his eyes, waiting.

He sighed. “A Turian named Sidonis and I teamed up to do some… house cleaning on Omega.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “House cleaning?”

“Yeah. Mainly we targeted organized crime: red sand and arms smuggling, trafficking… the kind of things that always slipped the net when I was working for C-sec.”

She nodded, knowingly. “And that of course put you on the bad side of every major merc squad operating in the sector, not to mention Aria T’Loak.”

“It also got the attention of some very capable people who were fed up with being victims in Omega’s power games.... That’s how I got my squad; When they saw what Sidonis and I were achieving, they asked to join up to… make a difference.”

“And judging from the statistics Cerberus pulled together for ‘Arc Angel’s’ dossier file, you really did make a difference, Garrus. However things turned out, don’t forget that.” Something like pride beamed in Shepard's eyes, and Garrus couldn’t take it.

His gaze fell to the metal paneling of the floor. “I got them killed, Shepard,” he said, shame digging into him like talons.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice soft and steady.

Garrus couldn’t look at her. Whether her face shifted to judgment or compassion, both would be unbearable. He stood up and walked to the central diagnostic panel and stared unblinking at the display. “Sidonis betrayed me. He drew me away just before the mercs attacked my squad . By the time I realized something was off, it was too late. When I got back to the base, my people were dead… or soon would be. And Sidonis was long gone.”

He could hear her standing up and walking to him. “I’m so sorry, Garrus,” she said, her voice kinder than he deserved. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he shuddered. “You have to know it wasn’t your fault.”

He whirled on her. “Wasn’t it? I should have seen it coming!”

She took a step back and crossed her arms. “Okay. Let’s talk through it, then. What is it you think you missed? What should you have seen? Were there signs?”

“I… There must have been. You don’t just go from fighting by someone’s side to stabbing them in the back without something .”

“But there was nothing that you can look back on and think, ‘that was it, that was the moment I should have pegged him for a traitor.’”

He couldn’t think of any. “What are you getting at, Shepard?”

She shrugged. “Maybe you didn’t notice any signs because there weren’t any. Maybe Sidonis was coerced into calling you away. It's hard to predict how someone will act with a gun to their head until it happens.”

“It doesn't excuse it.” His hands closed into fists. “Betrayal is still betrayal, no matter the motive.”

Her eyes and mouth tightened slightly. “No, it doesn't excuse Sidonis. But it might leave you space to let yourself off the hook a little. You couldn’t have seen signs that weren’t there.”

He knew she was right. So why did it make him so angry? "I don't want absolution, Shepard,” he said, bitterness growling in his subvocals. “Not from you.”

Her brows pinched together and her mouth gaped slightly. Garrus looked away and shook his head, shamed at the realization he’d hurt her. “I didn’t mean…” he sighed, bracing himself against the diagnostic console. “You weren’t there , Shepard.”

Her voice returned, soft and sad. "I'm not trying to absolve you. I just… I’m worried about you, Garrus. You’ve been through a lot these past few days. Physically and emotionally.”

 She couldn’t understand. She couldn’t understand that the last few days had only been the inevitable fall after two years of standing on the precipice. She couldn’t understand that her choice to die on the Normandy had set all of this in motion. She couldn’t understand how hard he’d tried to live up to her example only to have it come crashing down in catastrophic failure. She couldn’t understand how ashamed he was to have her see it. She couldn’t possibly understand.

"I'll be fine, Shepard,” he said, tapping on the console to begin a systems analysis. “You have bigger things to worry about."

“Garrus…” Her voice bordered on pleading, and his heart ached. He was putting up a wall between them. They both knew it. 

“I have work to do,” he said heavily. “Thanks for coming by.”

Chapter Text

He didn't want it this way. But in retrospect, how could he have expected anything else? Two years hung between them. And as much as he wanted to, he couldn't close that distance in a day. Despite Shepard's sameness, Garrus knew that he hadn't emerged unscathed from the passage of time. 

Shepard was all that she had been. And he couldn't deny that he still loved her. Which made the distance between them all the more painful to endure. Like in so many of his dreams over the past two years, she was still agonizingly out of reach. But now instead of death between them, he was the one getting in the way…. No, not him. Omega. Sidonis.

Even as the ship left the station, he felt tethered to Omega. Pulled away from Shepard, back to all that had gone wrong, back to those blood splattered walls, back to those ten restless spirits. Maybe Shepard was right that he couldn't have anticipated Sidonis' betrayal, but that didn't alleviate his responsibility to his people. Sidonis owed them justice, and Garrus would see that he delivered. Blood for blood.

If only Garrus had a damn clue where to find Sidonus now. Access to Cerberus intel would be useful, but it would still rely on the chance of a very careful man slipping up. It was bound to happen eventually, but it could take months or years before Sidonis would get sloppy enough to catch Garrus' attention. Garrus was willing to wait, but Shepard and her mission couldn't.

Whatever his personal baggage, Garrus wasn't going to let Shepard face Cerberus, the Collectors, or the Reapers alone. His oath to her stood: he'd be there with her until the end, no matter what. And the distance between them needed to be traversed, because, for all the walls he was putting up in shame or fear, Garrus couldn't bear the thought of losing her friendship.

So when he found her sitting alone in the observation lounge that night, pad in hand, just like she used to, he approached. She was so much like she had always been that he could almost imagine himself as that younger Turian, seeking out the attention of the alien commander, not yet aware why he was so drawn to her.

"Now this feels familiar." Garrus said as he rounded the couch on which Shepard sat.

She smiled. "Nicer lounge, though. Care to test out the couch with me?" There was a cautious warmth to her invitation. Like she was aware the ground between them had shifted, but didn't yet know what to make of the change in terrain.

He sat next to her, grateful that she wanted him there. "Shepard," he began hesitantly. "I'm sorry for snapping earlier."

"Don't be," she said. "We're all allowed boundaries. I'm sorry I crossed a line."

"It's just a… difficult topic. All still pretty fresh."

"I get that," she said with a nod.

"I know you were only trying to help."

She leaned toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Garrus," she said, her voice and touch rooting him in a way he hadn't realized he needed. "It's fine. I understand. I won't bring it up again unless you decide you want to talk about it."

He nodded. "Thank you, Shepard."

Shepard released his shoulder, relaxed sideways into her seat, and turned her attention back to her pad. Were her body not still angled toward him, Garrus might have taken her shift in focus as a cue to leave. But the closeness of her knees to his thigh seemed to suggest a continued desire for his company.

"Even Cerberus requires paperwork, huh?" he asked, nodding at the pad.

“They do, but that falls to Miranda…. This ,” she said holding up the pad, “is the eighth draft of a message to my brother-in-law Curtis.”

He caught a laugh before it left his throat. “Eight drafts, Shepard?”

She cringed and rubbed the place in her neck where she always carried stress. “Hard to find the words, you know? I can't imagine that me being MIA was easy on him.”

“No, it wasn't,” Garrus said. 

Shepard looked at him with furrowed brows. Of course she didn’t know that they’d met.

“We had a few drinks together after your memorial. Exchanged extranet messages now and then.”

She broke eye contact and shook her head. “I hadn't even thought about there being a memorial,” she said in an unsteady voice.

“Two, actually…. Well… several. But I only made it to two: a big official memorial on the Citadel, and a small one that Anderson put together for just people who knew you…. Curtis gave a… uh... memorable speech at the smaller memorial.” Could two angry sentences be counted as a speech?

Shepard looked vaguely horror-stricken. “Oh God, what did he say?” She held up her hands and bit her lips together. “No. On second thought, I don't want to know.”

Garrus chuckled. “I'm sure Anderson has a recording if you change your mind,” he said, before the memory of his own speech hit him: a tribute so intimate and raw that upon hearing it Curtis had immediately intuited the truth of Garrus' feelings for Shepard. “Actually, on second thought, maybe don't. Everyone was kind of a mess.”

Shepard frowned and sat silently for several seconds before speaking again. “How do I tell people that I'm alive, Garrus?” she asked quietly.

“Well, you blowing up my enemies with a grenade launcher wasn't a half bad way to find out.”

She laughed, “I certainly hope that doesn't apply in Curtis' case!” Her smile took on a more somber character. “But I'm serious. How do I honor the grieving, the moving on people have done? It feels unfair to just drop back into their lives after two years..... You know… like I did to you.”

The question took him by surprise, but he realized immediately it shouldn’t have. “Shepard, what I said back in the forward battery… I hope you don’t think I’m put off to have you back.”

“Not put off exactly. But maybe a little thrown?”

“Yeah, fair enough,” he granted with a snort. “But, you can throw me around all you like. It’s certainly better than the alternative.”

She smirked a little.

“I’m glad you're back, Shepard, even if it’s taking me a minute to process. And I promise, Curtis is going to feel the same way. He won't care whether or not you found the right words to tell him…. Just send the message. Don’t make him think he’s living in a galaxy without you in it for another second.”

Shepard blushed and met his gaze, her eyes glassy and questioning. Garrus felt warm under that too-knowing look of hers. He’d said a sentence beyond what he should have, but he didn’t know how to reverse course. “I… uh… think I heard that line in a vid, recently,” he stammered, scratching at his bandage. “I can’t remember which one…. The point is, you have to tell Curtis before the rumors of your survival catch up with him. And that’s not going to take long.”

He seemed to have succeeded in diffusing the tension. Shepard closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pressed “send.” Then she dropped the pad like it was hot and shook the tension from her arms.

“Commander Shepard always gets the job done,” he teased.

She posed triumphantly for him, hands on her hips, head high and in dramatic profile. Then she slumped into herself like a rag doll.

“Do you think Kaidan has any enemies I can shoot with a grenade launcher?” she muttered. “That would be way easier than writing another letter.”

He laughed. “The odds are probably good, yeah.”

Chapter Text

Garrus watched Shepard sway with the atmospheric turbulence as they departed Horizon. She’d been quiet since signaling for the shuttle. Even when Jack had jibed, “What kind of a prick calls you a traitor after you save his ass? You seriously used to fuck that guy, Shepard?” she’d boarded the shuttle without so much as a word or a chiding glare. 

Now she sat across from Garrus, forearms propped against her thighs, gaze distant and unfocused. It had been a grueling mission, and Kaidan was only a small piece of what weighed on Shepard now. Half the colonists were gone despite all their efforts. With Shepard’s nearly pathological need to save everyone, it was the sort of loss that she’d quietly obsess over for days. But to have that loss punctuated by another more personal one? It was like the ground had been taken out from under her. 

Kaidan had been cruel, maybe without intending to be. But intention aside, his words had cut Shepard at her core, her values and identity called into question by someone who was supposed to have known her, someone who was supposed to have loved her. Damn it, Kaidan. Shepard deserved better. And Kaidan deserved a rifle butt to the face.

On Horizon, Garrus had wanted to do as much. But now, looking at Shepard silently spiraling, his protectiveness took a more tender turn.

“Shepard,” Garrus said, breaking the silence. “He was wrong.”

She lifted her eyes to his face, brows furrowed. “What?” she asked.

“Kaidan,” he said, leaning forward. “You have to know he was wrong. About you. The Collector threat. Even Cerberus… He was wrong.”

She nodded weakly. “Yeah.... Thanks,” she muttered, her gaze drifting back to the floor.

Garrus got up and took the seat next to her. “I mean it, Shepard. You’re not betraying a damn thing. Not the Alliance. Not the Council. And not Kaidan. You’re using Cerberus’ resources to save colonies. He can’t fault you for that.”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m pretty sure he just did.” She sighed heavily and seemed to return to herself a bit. “I'm really glad you're here, Garrus,” she said sadly. “The one person in the whole damn galaxy who doesn't think I'm a Cerberus pawn.”

“I'm not the only one,” he said. “Joker. Doctor Chakwas. They wouldn't be here if they didn't trust you. And as for Kaidan… he'll come around.” He had to. Garrus could not fathom a possible world in which someone’s love for Shepard could just stop. Eventually Kaidan would recognize his mistake and beg for reconciliation.

“Maybe,” Shepard said flatly. Then her expression shifted as her eyes locked intensely on his own. “Why are you here, Garrus?” she asked, tone bordering on incredulity. “I showed up at your doorstep, no warning, two years dead, working for a human-supremacist terrorist organization, with a story that strains credibility, and you jumped right into hell behind me with both feet. No hesitation.”

“To be fair, you showed up at my doorstep with a rocket launcher, hurling dark energy at the three armies of mercs that were trying to kill me.” He laughed nervously. “How could I say no?”

Her brow furrowed. “I'm serious. You wouldn't have joined up just because you owed me for getting you out of a bad spot, not without taking a whole lot on faith.”

“No, you're right,” he said, remembering her dream-like arrival at the base, the falling feeling that had filled his senses until the next bullet struck him. “You showing up… after two years…” He sighed. “Spirits, part of me keeps expecting to wake up.”

She looked away and frowned. “Hard to believe. I get it.”

“Honestly, it borders on the impossible. But I knew it was you right away.” He closed his eyes. “The way you move on the battlefield. The way you always push your shields to the damn limit. The way your biotics curl off your finger tips. The way you can pop out of cover and instantly drop a merc with a headshot without even checking your aim…mmm.”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Jack’s barking laugh from the back of the shuttle. Shepard was looking at him with arched eyebrows and a hint of a smirk on her lips. 

He coughed. “Sorry. A tickle in my throat… Ahem.”

“A tickle somewhere,” Jack grumbled.

He barreled past the rising heat burning through him and looked into Shepard’s eyes, determined to tell her the things she needed to hear. “I knew it was you before even seeing your face. And it only took a minute of talking to you to know that you hadn't changed.”

Her smirk gave way to a soft smile.

“As for agreeing to be part of a Cerberus mission?” Garrus continued. “That's down to trust. Trust in your judgment and your moral compass. Trust earned a thousand times over.”

Roses bloomed on Shepard’s cheeks. “I…” she began breathlessly. “Thank you, Garrus. Really. Thank you.”

    Later that night, when Garrus was wrapping up his duties for the day, his omnitool pinged him for an incoming message from Kaidan Alenko. He snorted as he opened his extranet account on the Battery console. It would be an apology. A reversal. Maybe a request that Garrus keep Shepard safe. But as Garrus read the message, disgust rose bilious in his throat.

Garrus,

I'm trying to figure out if you're out of your mind, being coerced by Cerberus, or if you're just so blinded by wishful thinking that your judgment is shorting out. Cerberus? You know what they're about. You know that Shepard would never work with them, much less betray the Council and Alliance. Cerberus did something to her. If it's even her at all. 

I understand better than anyone wanting to believe that she’s not really gone. But If you’re with Cerberus out of loyalty to the person we knew, you have to realize you're being manipulated.

-Kaidan

Garrus seethed. How could Kaidan not see that the woman he’d loved so ardently two years before was the same woman who’d come to his rescue on Omega? He’d stood beside her when she mutinied and stole the Normandy. So how could he think loyalty to the Alliance and the Council was her defining characteristic? That anything less than blind deference to those institutions meant she could not be herself? Had he loved her at all, or had Curtis been right that Kaidan had merely worshiped a facet of her without understanding the whole picture?

He thought of ignoring the message. Deleting it. But he could not quiet the defensive impulse ringing through him like a Krogan war gong, telling him to defend Shepard and strike a return blow. So he wrote:

Kaidan,

You're wrong.

If you'd given Shepard a chance to explain things before accusing her of being a traitor, you'd get that. She is the same Shepard we've always known. Her values, her personality, her sense of humor, even her questionable dance moves. Unchanged. 

Shepard has my trust. Now and always. She earned that much from all of us. If she needs me to walk with her into hell to take down the Collectors or the Reapers, I'm there. And if Cerberus turns on her, I'll have her back. After spending the last two years mourning her, I'm going to do everything I can to keep her breathing this time. I would have expected the same from you. But I guess we’ve both been wrong about someone today.

Shepard deserves a hell of a lot better from you than you gave on Horizon. I hope you get the chance to make things right again.

-Garrus

He reread the message, but his gaze stuck on the last sentence. He highlighted the words “I hope you get a chance to make things right again” and pressed “delete.”

Chapter Text

Shepard had read the message at least a dozen times in the two weeks since she’d received it.

Sweetie,

I HAVE to see you. Talking over the extranet? No. No. Nope. Not enough. I checked with Anderson to make sure that this isn't some kind of fishing attempt. (Forgive me for doubting, but you write like a VI.) He assures me that everything you said about Cerberus and your resurrection (?!) are entirely true (as though you needed to be even more messianic than you already were!). Just the same, I need to see you for this all to sink in. So… you, me, the Citadel. I'll wait as long as it takes, but I'll be increasingly grumpy about it.

Love forever and ever (in life, death, and undeath),

Curtis

She’d received the message before Horizon. At the time, she’d been eager to go and meet him. Even without the two years spent comatose, it had been awhile since she’d last seen him in person. Not since he’d given Shepard her first tour of the Normandy. He’d been so proud, practically bouncing as he’d pointed out every system he’d had his hands in, beaming as he’d presented the stealth systems as the crown jewel in a ship that was every inch a brilliant innovation. 

She’d desperately wanted to be around his open warmth again, to have this one solid constant in her life restored to her, when everything else felt so unstable and fragile, when all her past relationships had been shifted by her death and return. Anderson, who had once been almost as close to her as family, was now cautious with her; Joker was so wracked with guilt that he couldn’t even make eye contact when he took the piss out of her; and Doctor Chakwas was buried in work. Even Garrus, for all his support and loyalty, was not quite the man she’d known. He was trying to close the distance between them. She knew that and was beyond grateful. But more nights than not, she’d wait in the observation lounge for a friend who never came, a friend who was determined to shoulder his pain alone. She could relate. She hated it, but she could relate. And it made her miss Curtis’ openness even more.

Then Horizon happened. And her fear that the people who had mourned her may not want her to return was realized. It twisted in her gut like poison. If Curtis shut her down the way Kaidan had, Shepard wasn’t sure she could take it. She needed to believe that this person who’d loved her all her life, who’d seen her through the aftermath of Mindoir, who was proud of her regardless of medals or rank or accolades, would be happy to have her back without equivocation. If she met with him and he was hesitant or closed off, if his easy warmth had cooled, if he kept her at a distance, her heart would break. So she delayed the reunion for another week, sending Curtis an excuse about an urgent time-sensitive mission. His response was short:

Curtis disapproves. +10 grump points.

He’s not Kaidan , she told herself, as she fought the urge to send another message delaying their reunion an additional week. He wants to see me . 

Besides, Mess Sergeant Gardner had requisitioned supplies that needed to be picked up from the Citadel. And if Curtis by some chance saw the Normandy docked and Shepard didn’t come to see him, she’d soon be up to her ears in grump points. So they docked, and after briefing Anderson about Horizon (leaving out the personal details), she went to Curtis’ hotel room and pressed the chime.

The door opened so quickly, Shepard guessed he must have been pacing in front of it. Curtis stared at her, frozen, his eyes wide and tearful, mouth agape. His hair was longer than she remembered, and a little more silver shimmered in his dark curls. His face, once shaven daily, now had at least three days of stubble. But there were still those kind, familiar features, still those warm eyes.

“Hey, Curt,” she said with an unsteady smile.

He gasped, and tears broke through the dam of his lower lids. “It’s really you?” he asked, his voice cracking and hoarse.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s really me.” She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to show how much she needed him to accept her until she was sure he had. Afterall, Kaidan had cried and embraced Shepard seconds before calling her a traitor.

Curtis reached for her with shaking arms and then pulled back. “Can… Can I touch you?” he asked.

She chuckled, “Yeah… I’m not a ghost, if that’s what you’re asking.” She pointed her finger and pressed it to his chest, pushing him back a little. “See? I’m solid.”

“Ha!” he barked. “I mean, are you okay with being touched? You seem… a little fragile.”

She was. Her scar lines had healed, but she still felt as though fault lines ran through her, like a piece of pottery that had been glued back together after a fall from the shelf. “I’m physically fine now,” she said. “You’re not going to break me.”

“Physically,” he said, nodding. “And the rest of you?”

She shrugged. “A hug would be nice,” she said shakily, the memory of Kaidan’s hug still stinging. “But only if you mean it.”

“Of course I fucking mean it!” he said grinning broadly. He grabbed Shepard, pulling her close into a tearful bearhug. This was not the tense, cautious embrace Kaidan had given her. It was the hug Curtis had given her when he’d found her at the Alliance field hospital on Mindoir. It was a hug that could hold the spinning world still for a moment. It was an outpouring of all the grief and love of the past two years and a lifetime before.

While Curtis shook and rocked with sobs and wails, Shepard silently wept into his shoulder. He was used to her quieter expressions of feeling while she was used to his cacophony. The fear and caution fell from Shepard; nothing in Curtis’ embrace hinted at reservations about her return. And she could breathe again. This she could keep. This hadn't eroded or broken in her lost years.

When they released one another, they were both wet-faced and smiling. “We’re getting gawkers,” Curtis said with a laugh, tossing his head in the direction of people poking their heads out of their hotel rooms to see what the fuss was about. He grasped her hand in his. “Come on, let’s take this reunion inside.”

They entered the suite, and Curtis directed Shepard to take a seat in the small parlor. She settled into an armchair while Curtis poured coffee in the nearby kitchenette. Shepard smiled as she watched him add a generous quantity of Irish cream to each cup. He handed her a cup and settled into the other armchair with a contented sigh.

“I’m not exactly sure how to start a ‘welcome back to life’ conversation,” he said, taking a sip of his beverage. “I could say ‘I missed you,’ ‘it hurt to lose you,’ or ‘I’m glad you’re back,’ I guess. But that falls well short of the mark, to be honest.... I could say how much I missed you, how much it hurt to lose you, how much it means to have you back. But that all feels like a lot to put on you right now. So I’ll save all that for another visit, okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a grateful smile.

“Focus on the present, then,” he said with a decided nod. “You’re back, miraculously. You’re facing a threat of galactic proportions, predictably .”

She laughed, leaning forward. “Doing it in style, at least! You should see the new ship. Cerberus based it on the old Normandy designs, but put in a hot new drive core.”

Curtis crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “Hmm. I’m not sure how I feel about Cerberus getting their grubby mitts on my designs.”

Shepard’s stomach tightened as her fears returned. Was this the point where he’d pull away? Would he lecture her for working with Cerberus? Tell her she’s changed? That she’s betraying the Alliance?

He shrugged. “But at least in this case, I can support the goal.” 

Her stomach unclenched. "Yeah, not exactly an alliance I'd expected. But they're the ones with the resources."

"So sits the living proof!" He said, flourishing his hand in her direction.

"I'm not sure which was more costly to rebuild: me or the ship."

"Which reminds me," he said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw, “I might have some upgrade schematics for you. For your ship, I mean.”

She shook her head. “No, Curtis. If the Alliance found out--”

“Fuck ‘em,” he interrupted. “You’re planning on flying into the Omega relay. You do realize no one has ever come back from there, right?”

“Yeah. I know the risks.”

“Then you know you can’t afford to turn away help.”

"Curt," she said hesitantly. "I don't want you caught up in this." It could end his career if he was discovered to be passing Alliance schematics to Cerberus. Maybe even land him in prison.

"So you'll accept resources from Hades' mutt but not me?" he said, leaning forward and setting his coffee on the end table. “If you die again, and I didn’t help you in every way I could, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. You'll take the damn schematics.” His eyes glistened

“Okay,” she groaned, closing her eyes and shaking her head. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. If she refused him, he'd send it to Cerberus directly. “Just… put it on a pad and hand it to me directly; I don’t want a digital trail leading back to you. And I don’t want Cerberus getting it in their heads that you work for them now.”

He smiled and nodded. “Perfect…. Now, about Cerberus… you do have a plan here for if they betray you, I hope.”

“I'll betray them right back,” she said with a shrug.

“That simple, huh?”

“Probably not.” She’d been working on the crew, building loyalty. In the event she needed to mutiny against Cerberus, she was relatively confident the crew would follow her. But Shepard doubted that she could steal the ship or set it to autodestruct as long as EDI had control over its systems. “I’m working on a plan and a couple back-up plans…. It’ll be fine.”

He glared at her dubiously. “Uh huh. Just promise not to get blown up this time. Okay?”

"I didn't actually blow up the last time, you know," she teased, avoiding his request for a promise they both knew she couldn't make.

"I don't know. And I don't want to know," he said, waving her off. "It's in the past. I just hope your new pilot follows orders better than the last one."

Shepard squirmed in her seat and cringed. "Uh… Curt?"

His eyes widened then scrunched up with the rest of his features in a pinched scowl. "For fuck's sake. Of all the… Of course he's back."

"He's not the only one," she said lightly, hoping to move the conversation to less contentious terrain. "Doctor Chakwas is the SR-2's medic. And Garrus Vakarian is keeping our weapon systems calibrated as well as watching my back on the ground."

Curtis brightened noticeably at the mention of Garrus' name. " Garrus is back? Isn't that an interesting development!"

Shepard's brow furrowed. "Uh, yes?" she asked suspiciously. "Why are you saying it like that?"

"Hmm? Oh no reason," Curtis said with a wink that confused Shepard even more. "What about what's-his-face? That marine of yours."

"Kaidan," she said flatly. Of course he'd ask about Kaidan.

He snapped his fingers. "Yes, right. That's the name: Kaidan . Does Kaidan know you're alive?"

Shepard looked away. The wound was still fresh. "He knows."

"Oh no." Curtis frowned. "What happened?"

Shepard tensed at the intrusive question. Still, she was grateful that Curtis' nosey prying into her relationships was a constant she could depend on. "It wasn't exactly the reunion I was hoping for," she said with a sigh. "He shut me down."

Curtis' brows pinched together. "Shut you down? What do you mean?"

"He was… harsh about me working with Cerberus. Accused me of betraying him and the Alliance. I don't think he even believes it's really me. I guess it's over between us."

"Fuck," Curtis said, leaning forward and putting a hand on her knee. "I'm so sorry, Sweetie. How are you doing with it?"

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck where tension was building. "It was rough, but I'm dealing…. I'm sure seeing me was a lot for him to process."

Curtis stared at her, mouth agape. "A lot for him to process? What about all you've had to process?"

"Garrus says my death was hard on Kaidan. I'm just trying to keep that in mind to understand why he reacted to seeing me the way he did."

"Your death was hard on everyone ," Curtis said, collapsing back into his chair with a scowl. "Kaidan doesn't have the monopoly on earth-shaking grief, as much as he may think he does."

"Curtis, why the hostility toward Kaidan, here?" Shepard asked, her voice a blend of confusion and perturbance. "Did something happen between you two that I don't know about?"

"No. I only spoke to him the one time. He spoke at your memorial." He held up his hands. "Look, I'm sure he has many admirable qualities. Certainly you must have seen something in him past his very fine ass…. But, he came off as self-centered to me. And a little too much with the hero-worship."

"Hero-worship? What?" She laughed, baffled. “As in he worshiped me ?” He had a hell of a way of showing it, then.

“Look… I get it. What do I know? I never saw you two together. But my impression of Kaidan is that he wasn't right for you. He didn't understand you, and he absolutely didn't deserve you.”

Shepard crossed her arms, burning a little under Curtis’ judgment. “Is that right?” she asked with an edge.

Curtis glared at her. “Holster that tone, okay? He just broke your heart, and as someone who loves you, I'm entitled to be a little angry at him. And honestly, you are being way more charitable than he deserves. Why aren’t you mad?”

Shepard shook her head. “I’m just trying to understand where he was coming from. Of course I’m mad. He should have given me a chance to explain.”

 Curtis gestured wildly. “He should have fallen to his knees in gratitude when you came back into his life. I know I did. I bet Garrus did too.”

“Not exactly,” she said with a snort, remembering the concussive rounds Garrus had sent her way as a friendly hello. “But he was being shot at at the time. So I think we can make some allowances.”

Curtis rolled his eyes. “Always with you and the shooting.”

“ I wasn’t the one shooting him!”

“Of course not. He was the fetching damsel in distress and you his knight in shining armor.” A devilish smile spread across Curtis’ face. “I guess one good thing about Kaidan showing his true colors, is it frees you up to be with the person you should have been with in the first place.”

She laughed. “Who? Garrus?”

“Of course Garrus!" he said like it should have been obvious. “You two would be great together.”

Shepard shrugged. The thought had occurred. “Honestly, I can see it,” she said. “But he's been pretty clear that he doesn't see me that way.”

Curtis’ lip and nostril curled in utter confusion. “He… what ?”

Shepard cringed. “It’s a little embarrassing, Curt. I was interested, he wasn’t. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“ What ? When ?” The bafflement in Curtis face had deepened to the point of comedy.

“Do I really have to talk about this?”

Curtis’ wide eyed expression said yes.

Shepard rolled her head back in exasperation. “It was years ago, okay? Before I started things up with Kaidan, I thought Garrus and I might have the beginning of something. But he shot me down.”

Curtis shook his head vigorously. “No. No way. There is no possible way.”

Shepard laughed at Curtis’ confidence in her. “Believe it or not, not everyone finds me irresistable.”

“But… Garrus !”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I was a little surprised too. I kept thinking I felt sparks between us... still do, honestly. But he wasn't interested.”

“ What !” Curtis was practically shouting.

“Jeeze, Curt,” she said, trying not to blush at the memory. “I don’t know why he wasn’t interested. It’s not exactly like he owed me an explanation. Maybe he figures we're more compatible as friends. Or maybe he's just not attracted to humans. I don’t know. But whatever his reason, he told me it wasn't going to happen, so I backed off. The end.”

Curtis leaned forward, opened his mouth to speak, then bit his lips together and shook his head.

“What?” Shepard teased. “You’ve suddenly learned how to bite your tongue? You’ve changed.”

He took a deep breath and his eyelids fluttered. When his voice returned to him it was saccharine and soft. “Sweetie… I don't know what you think Garrus said, but it would be a cold day on Palaven before that man turned you down.” He smiled broadly and shook his head. “You must have misunderstood. Or he did. I don't know. But if Garrus thought for a second that he had a chance to be with you…” He bit his lips together again. “Just trust me on this: there was some kind of miscommunication.”

“I don’t get why you’re pushing this, Curtis!” she said, tone tipping to anger. “Whatever matchmaking intuition you have, whatever intuition I have, it doesn’t matter. He was pretty damn clear that he wanted me to back off. I’m not going down this road again. Unless he says he’s changed his mind, it would be pretty shitty of me to not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Curtis hopped up from his seat, holding the sides of his head like he was trying to contain an explosion. “You're killing me with this!” He walked to the room’s console table and began typing. “Look… I'm sending you the recording of a memorial service that Anderson hosted a few weeks after you died.”

Shepard tensed. “Curtis, I really don’t think I’m ready to...”

He walked back to her and kneeled, taking both her hands in his. “I know. You don’t have to watch it all.” He cringed. “In fact I’d rather you not watch it all…. But if you want answers about Kaidan and Garrus, you might find some insight there. Trust me.”

Chapter Text

I… uh… I’ve never done this before. I don’t know if there are rules about what I’m supposed to say or… not say at one of these things. But I wanted to speak… to try to… I don’t know… put into words this loss that…. Honestly, it just can’t be put into words. I can barely think it. I just… I have to try.

I won’t remind everyone of Shepard’s service or commitment to duty. Her heroism…. Honestly, it’s all been said. And even if it hadn’t been said, it… it gets Shepard wrong.

Shepard didn’t go up to the cockpit that day because it was her duty. She did it because when she was young… too damn young… she lost people. And the pain of that loss rocked her entire life off its axis. Most people experience a loss like that and they turn to glass or stone. Not Shepard. Somehow… Spirits, I don’t know how… she managed to carry all that pain inside her, like a beating heart, pulsing the blood of those she couldn’t save through her entire being.

She knew loss and pain intimately. It was always with her, every damn second. And it gave her insight into all loss, like she felt everyone’s pain resonating through the universe in sympathy with her own. And it mattered to her that people hurt. It mattered to her that their pain and loss and love and fear be taken seriously and given weight. Every feeling person in the galaxy had weight to Shepard. And I’ll never know how she managed to carry us all.

Shepard’s need to take responsibility for everyone, to save everyone… Honestly, it probably wasn’t the healthiest impulse to let drive her life. It did get her killed, afterall. And it caused her more pain than she let on…. But it was that drive, rooted in pain and loss… not duty or service… not heroism or bravery… not even loyalty or friendship…. It was that drive that put her in the cockpit that day. Joker’s life mattered to her, his loss mattered to her, and she felt the weight of it as her own. But somehow she… she didn’t think of how… the weight of her life, and loss, and pain would hit us. It was her blind spot…. Damn it. Going up there was the one bad call of her whole career…. Sorry, Joker…. She forgot that she mattered. She lost track of the fact that losing her would… matter.

She told me once that the dead can rest easy when the living find peace. I wish I could give that to her. But… I’m afraid your spirit’s going to be restless for a long time, Shepard.

Chapter Text

Garrus turned at the sound of the doors to the battery opening behind him. Shepard stood at the threshold, serious and shaken. She looked like she’d been drained of all her color, and there was something unsteady about her. Like a strong wind could tip her over

Garrus tensed; something had happened. “Shepard?” His subvocals betrayed his alarm. “Everything okay? You look a little… off.”

“I'm… yeah…. Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, mind buzzing with what might have happened to put her in this state. “You want to sit?”

She looked at the crates and shook her head. “No, but…. Could you sit? It might be easier if you sit.”

“Oh, uh… alright.” He sat, and she paced. For a minute she paced. “Shepard?” he said cautiously. “I’m getting a little nervous here…. Did something happen?”

She stopped and leaned on the diagnostic console, looking off toward the casing of the main guns. “I watched my memorial,” she said in a low voice. “The small one.”

Garrus’ stomach dropped about two decks. “Oh.”

“I thought it might give me some insight into what Kaidan went through... why he reacted the way he did on Horizon.”

“Did it?” Garrus asked, grateful that she wanted to talk about Kaidan instead of him. Maybe she had only watched Kaidan’s tribute.

She looked at the floor. “A bit, I think... He was in a lot of pain. He'd pinned a lot of his hopes on me... and when I died…”

“Yeah,” Garrus said, remembering. “It hit him pretty hard.”

She frowned. “Yeah…. But, I'm realizing now from his tribute and from everything he said on Horizon that he…” she shook her head. “He didn't see me with as much depth as I'd thought he did…. He idolized me.”

Garrus nodded. “He did. A lot of people did.”

Her gaze lifted to Garrus. “You didn't. In your tribute you…” Her lips moved like she was speaking, but she uttered no words loudly enough that the translator could pick up on. Garrus’ heart raced. She had heard his speech. It had been his words rather than Kaidan’s that had unsettled her so much.

Her brow furrowed and her voice returned: “How did you see me with such raw clarity?”

“I, uh…” he stammered. What was there to say? He’d seen her because she’d let him see her. He’d seen her because he’d longed to see her.

“The things you said, Garrus…” she shook her head. “Listening to you and Kaidan speak side by side… It was... illuminating.”

She locked her eyes to his. There it was. There was no backpedaling from this point. No way to brush aside what she’d heard, nor the subtext of it. He could try to explain it away, tell her that he loved her as a friend. What had Curtis called it? Platonic adoration? But it would be a lie. And Garrus’ heart rebelled against the thought of lying to Shepard about loving her. No, if she confronted him about it, he’d tell her, and deal with the fallout. 

For a moment he was certain Shepard would ask him as she stared into his eyes with such intensity that the air between them seemed to vibrate with it. But then she looked away and shook her head. “It's… uh… it’s no wonder Kaidan thought I'd changed on Horizon," she said in a low voice. " He was in love with an illusion. Not me. I should have seen it before."

Garrus exhaled as the tension between them dissipated. "He loved you," he assured her. "He just... didn't see the whole picture."

Shepard nodded. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not being fair to him. Maybe we just didn't have enough time together for him to really know me with any kind of depth. We knew each other for less than a year. And most of that time was in the midst of pretty dire straits with regulations keeping us in check. Maybe I was too guarded, too preoccupied with everything else to really let him in.” 

Shepard’s eyes locked onto Garrus again, and he froze, barely able to breathe.

 “But I let you in, didn't I?” she said. “Why did I let you in but not him?”

Garrus fumbled for the answer, unsure of it himself. “I… uh… I guess because I wasn't Alliance. It was probably easier to be more… relaxed with me. No ranks to complicate a friendship.”

Shepard shook her head and leaned back on the diagnostic console, folding her arms. “I don't know, Garrus…. I've been thinking a lot about trust since Cerberus brought me back. Who I trust. Who trusts me. And, well… I don't think I ever trusted Kaidan enough to open up to him. Not really.” She flushed a little and looked down at her shoes. “And I'm not sure he even wanted me to. I think he wanted me on a pedestal, in life... and death. And now that I've returned with Cerberus, shattering that pedestal, calling his entire perspective of me into question, he feels betrayed. How could he not?”

“Maybe he does right now,” Garrus said, shaking his head. “But eventually he's going to wake up and realize--”

Shepard held up a hand. “Stop, Garrus… I…” She exhaled slowly and shakily. “Look. I don't let a lot of people in. Not completely. I'll dig deep into other people's lives and feelings. But it's hard for me to take my own armor off…. I didn't let Kaidan in.” Again her eyes lifted to his face, but now the intensity was gone, replaced by a tender sadness. “But I let you in. I didn't really realize until hearing you talk about me at the memorial just how much.”

Something about the way she looked at him made Garrus feel foggy and warm. “I… I don't…”

Shepard walked up to him, “What you said at my memorial… being remembered that way…” she said, tearing up. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. And I'm sorry for the pain my dying caused you…. You were right: I had a blind spot. But I’m seeing things a lot more clearly now.” Her voice shook, taking him along with it.

She knew. He could feel it. She was too kind to say it directly, too sensitive to the embarrassment it might cause him to be so exposed when she couldn’t return his feelings. But she knew and was accepting it.

“I couldn't be there for you these last two years... through everything,” she said softly. “But I'm here now. Anything you need.”

Chapter Text

Garrus climbed into the cab after Shepard while she punched their destination into the auto-drive console. So damn close.

“Fun seeing Harkin again,” Shepard said flatly. “Just like old times?”

Garrus stared out the front window. “Harkin's a bloody menace. We shouldn't have just let him go. He deserved to be punished. You should have let me--”

“What? Shoot him?” She shook her head. “I'm getting a little worried about you, Garrus. You were pretty hard on Harkin. Even before you pulled out your gun.”

He looked at her face, profile bathed in the vehicle’s blue lights. “You don't think he deserved it?” he asked, bristling under her judgment.

“It's just not like you. It was… unnerving to see you like that. Have you really changed that much?” She turned to look at him, brow pinched and lips tight.

He couldn’t bear her disappointment in him. The one person whose good opinion mattered to him, and he was falling short of her expectations. He turned from her. “What do you want from me, Shepard ?” he asked heavily. “ What would you do if someone betrayed you?”

“I'm not sure,” she said gently, her eyes still on him. “I’d probably be changed by it too. But I hope that I'd have people in my life who cared about me enough to pull me back from the brink and remind me of who I am.”

She couldn’t know how she was breaking his heart. He wanted so damn much to be the person she thought he was, but he wasn’t just on the brink any more. She’d come back into his life too late to stop him from falling. “I don't need saving, Shepard,” he said quietly.

“I think you kind of do! It's not too late,” she said fervently, as though she was arguing with his unspoken thoughts. “You don't have to go through with killing Sidonis.”

Garrus turned back to her, anger overriding his shame. “Who's going to bring Sidonis to justice if I don't? Nobody else knows what he's done. Nobody else cares.” 

“ I care, Garrus!”

He scoffed. “Shepard. You don’t understand what he--” Garrus stopped himself. There was no point in trying to explain his need for this. “Nevermind. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and… I don't see any other options. Sidonis needs to die. Today.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “There are always options,” she said earnestly. “ Let me talk to him. Maybe we can find another way through this.”

Garrus shrugged her off. “Talk all you want, but it won't change my mind. I don't care what his reasons were. He screwed us. He deserves to die.”

“Never mind what Sidonis deserves for a minute,” she said, voice tense and frustrated. “What about what you deserve? Is killing a former friend really going to bring you any peace?” She shook her head. “I know you, Garrus.... You don't want to kill this guy. If you did, you wouldn't have brought me along.”

Garrus was taken aback. “I brought you along because I needed your help. You said you wanted to help.”

She nodded. “Yeah. And you know me well enough to have a pretty good idea of how I tend to help.” She gestured in the general direction of the dock. “You could have brought Zaeed or Grunt if all you needed was backup. Even Jack would have probably been happy to tear Harkin and Sidonis apart with you.” 

Garrus shook his head, flustered. “I… I don’t…”

Shepard pointed at her chest, over the place where humans kept their hearts. “ I'm here because part of you doesn't want to cross this line.”

He rebelled internally against her accusation. But he had to admit that she was a poor choice of partners to bring to an execution. She’d never in their time together shot an unarmed hostile. Hell, she’d even found ways to pacify armed hostiles whenever she could. By bringing her along, he was forcing her into a situation that pitted her loyalty to him against her own morals. He could hardly blame her for trying to reconcile the two. 

“I appreciate your concern ,” he said. “And I’m sorry I put you in this position. But I'm not you.”

She slammed her fist on the dashboard. “This isn't you either, damn it!” she said hotly.

The spark of Shepard’s anger ignited his own. “Really? I've always hated injustice. The thought that Sidonis could get away with this… Why should he go on living when ten good people lie in unmarked graves?”

“ Nothing you do today will help those people,” she said, her tone pleading. “I know it's hard to accept that. But it's the truth. All that matters now is you, finding peace, or closure, or forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness!” he shouted in incredulous anger. “After what he did?”

She scoffed. “I don't care if you forgive Sidonis . I'm talking about forgiving yourself, damnit.” 

She was relentless. “I'm sorry, Shepard,” he said, staring out of the window at the blurred streaks of passing street lights. “Words aren't going to solve this problem.”

They passed the rest of the drive in tense silence. He’d hurt her, he could see it in the flush of her cheeks and the tightness at the corners of her down-turned mouth. He realized now that asking her to come had been a bad call, that pressuring her to be a part of this would damage their friendship. It had already irrevocably changed the way she saw him. The parts of himself that he’d tried to keep from Shepard since her return, were now on full display, and soon she’d realize that she couldn’t save him from the path he was on. And she’d blame herself for it.

When the car arrived at the catwalks where Garrus would set up his shot, he paused. “Shepard,” he said with a sigh. “I’m going to radio for Massani. You should… you should go back to the Normandy.”

“Not a fucking chance,” she said. “We’re doing this now. Together.”

“Shepard, you shouldn’t have to--”

“Set up your shot, Garrus,” she said firmly. “I’ll draw Sidonis into range.”

“No, Shepard. I was wrong to--”

Shepard fixed him with an angry glare. “Get out of the car, Garrus. You’re wasting time, and Sidonis is going to catch on that something’s wrong if we make him wait much longer.”

She was right. He pressed the door release and climbed out of the car. “Shepard,” he said, bending over to look at her through the open door. “This isn’t your fault. Everything that happens here, it's on me.”

She set her jaw and shook her head before closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Shepard didn’t push. When Garrus told her he wasn’t ready to talk, she just nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and got back into the cab. He knew it took every ounce of self control she had to remain silent in the ride back to the Normandy while she chewed the inside of her cheek and peeled at the paint on her armor. She didn’t seem angry now, at least. Whatever words she was holding at bay would be ones of concern or reassurance. He wasn’t ready to hear them yet, but the certainty that they were there waiting for him was a balm in itself.

When they got back to the dock, Garrus reached for the door release, but Shepard stalled him, resting her hand on his. “Why don’t you take some down time, Garrus,” she said warmly. “I have a few more errands to run.”

“Errands?” he asked, skeptically. “The kind with a shopping cart or the kind with bullets?”

She laughed. “I just want to see how far I can stretch my store discounts. No backup needed, I promise.”

He could use the down time to sort things out. But trouble tended to find Shepard even if she wasn’t looking for it. “I wouldn’t mind a little window shopping,” he said.

Shepard smiled softly. “I’ll be okay. I think we could both use a little time to clear our heads.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you back on the Normandy?”

She nodded and pressed the door release for him. Garrus got out of the car and stood back as she closed the door, waved, and drove away.

For a while he wandered, unsure of what might help ease his mind. But as he walked, he found himself pulled, as though back in time, to a run down clinic where a human soldier had once yelled at him with so much conviction and passion that he couldn’t help but start a slow fall into love. This was the person he’d thought would help him execute Sidonis? He had to laugh at himself. What the hell were you thinking?

Shepard hadn’t been wrong. He should have known exactly what kind of help she’d be inclined to give. And maybe deep down he had. Sidonis had been his only friend since the Normandy crew had drifted apart in the wake of Shepard’s disappearance. And as much as his betrayal hurt, killing him might have hurt more. Shepard knew that. Shepard knew him .

Garrus continued his amble through the wards. Past Flux where he’d first seen her awful, just truly, truly awful dance moves. Past Chora’s Den where he’d gotten his first real taste of her exceptional combat skills... and the chilling way she’d push her barriers past their damn limit. The vids of Shepard’s defense Elysium couldn’t do her justice. The heat coming off of her biotics alone had been enough to impress. Even then, he’d felt a shiver thrill through him at the way their skills fit together intuitively, practically seamlessly. It was almost like he’d spent his whole life training specifically to fight at Shepard’s side.

The pull of Shepard’s spirit drew him up out of the wards and into the Alliance docks where the SR-1 used to park. Garrus reached out a hand and let his fingers slide against the smooth, cold metal of the dock's railings. Then he stopped and leaned against the barrier and looked out over the view of the Citadel, just as he had with Shepard nearly three years before.

He exhaled heavily, remembering the ways she’d tried to hide her tears from him, not yet sure what to make of this Turian intruding on her moment of unarmored grief. “ Batarian blood didn’t raise our dead ,” she’d told him, unwilling to accept her victory in the Blitz as a palliative for her pain or loss.

Garrus removed his visor, and looked at the etched names of his dead squadmates on the inner band. Ten dead people. Shepard was right. They couldn’t be resurrected by Sidonis’ death any more than Shepard’s family could be restored to her by Batarian blood. They were all beyond the need for vengeance now. But maybe, as Shepard believed, they could find some peace through Garrus. Maybe even through Sidonis.

Garrus shifted his thumb to reveal the first name he’d carved into his visor two years ago: Shepard . He’d considered buffing out her name a few times since her return. But the loss had still felt too real to let go of. Regardless of her nearness, there'd been an insurmountable distance between them that ached like a wound. However, things had been shifting. The old intimacy of their friendship was returning. And now that she'd seen what the last two years had made of him, and now that she had some sense of how he felt for her, he didn’t need to shy away from it.

Still, her name would remain where it was. Not as a memorial now, but a reminder of what he wanted to fight for: Shepard’s life, Shepard’s friendship, Shepard’s mission, and Shepard’s belief in him. 

Garrus found her late that night. She was sitting in the lounge. An aura of calm seemed to emanate from her as she looked out at the view of the dock. A soft smile crossed her face when she caught sight of Garrus' reflection in the window shining next to her own.  

“That's a rare sight,” he said, rounding the couch. “Commander Shepard doing nothing ? Not even a pad in hand?”

“Thought I'd leave my office hours open, just in case you wanted to talk. You know... if you're ready.”

He took a seat next to her. “Yeah. Thanks for giving me the space to figure things out. It was a lot to sort through.”

She searched his face. “I know it didn't go the way you planned, but you made the right call.”

He laughed. “Hard to make any other call with you standing in my way.”

A smirk teased at the corner of her mouth. “You could have shot me.”

“Fortunately I wasn’t that far gone…. Besides, I think you were right: I wouldn't have brought you along if I'd really wanted to kill Sidonis…. I didn't realize it consciously until after, but on some level I must have known that you wouldn't let me cross the line. You'd pull me back.”

She gave a single firm nod.

“Thank you for seeing through me and all the anger I threw your way.” He shook his head, still ashamed of the way he’d spoken to her. “I was having a bad day.”

She shrugged. “We all get them.”

He nodded, grateful for her charity.

“How are you sitting with it?” she asked, tilting her head. “Letting Sidonis live, I mean.?

He snorted. “I don't know. I want to know I did the right thing, not just for me... for my men. They deserved to be avenged . But you were right… killing Sidonis wouldn't have done any good. For them or me…. And there was still good in him… I could see it. ”

She nodded and looked back out the window. “I don't envy him… living with that kind of moral debt, trying to make up for what he did.” She shook her head. “It won't be an easy path.”

“No, it won't be.” And it shouldn’t be.

“And what about you?” she asked in a low, cautious voice. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so,” he said. “It's been a rough two years. But letting Sidonis go… It's a start to letting it all go, so I can be back where I belong without anything holding me back.”

Her brow furrowed. “And where do you belong?”

He looked at her and cocked his head, surprised that it wasn’t obvious to her. “Right here.”

Shepard smiled, and her cheeks flushed. She took his hand in hers and shifted a little closer to him.

Garrus leaned back and released a relaxed, contented sigh. Time crawled lazily by as they sat together, hand in hand, watching the ships fly in and out of the dock. Right where they belonged.

Chapter Text

Shepard smiled as Curtis’ line picked up and his smirking face appeared on her screen. “If it isn’t my favorite zombie in the entire universe!” he said with a yawn.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on! Zombie? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

He shrugged. “You called before I’ve had my morning coffee, so you get what you get.”

Shepard looked at the time display on his channel. 0620. “Shit. Did I wake you?” she groaned.

He nodded and rubbed his eyes. “How I’ve missed the time-difference confusion of my space-faring sister. That wonderful lurch of panic as my comm jolts me out of a deep sleep and adrenaline floods my unsuspecting brain.”

She cringed. “Sorry, Curt. You want me to call back later?”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, waving her off. “I’ll take whatever calls you can find the time to give me.”

Shepard shook her head. “It’s really not important. It can wait.”

“Sweetie, the adrenaline has already ruined any chance of me going back to sleep, so you might as well make use of it. Talk.”

She scratched the back of her head. It was embarrassing enough to call him about something so silly, but to wake him up for it was worse. “How… how are things with you?” she asked.

He scoffed. “Oh shut up with that. Why did you call?”

Shepard sighed and scrunched up her face as regret stirred in her. “It’s about Garrus…. About me and Garrus.”

Curtis’ eyes widened, and he scooted closer to the screen, grinning. “ You and Garrus? Is there a you and Garrus now?” 

Shepard winced. “Maybe?”

“What do you mean ‘maybe?’ You did watch your memorial, didn’t you?”

She blushed at the memory of it. “I… did.”

Curtis’ grin broadened. “ And ?”

“And, I can see what you thought you saw.”

Curtis clapped his hands into a steeple in front of his mouth and nose. “So… did you talk to him about it?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

Curtis’ smile abruptly faded. “Sort of?”

Her gaze drifted sheepishly to her empty fish tank. “Well… I didn’t want to put him on the spot and… accuse him of having feelings for me.”

Curtis slapped his hands down on his console and leaned in close to the screen. “Why the hell not! Did Cerberus amp up your shyness with this reboot or something?”

Anger flashed hot in Shepard at his comment. “You want to back off from suggesting that they changed me, ass hole! It’s kind a fucking sore spot!”

Curtis slumped and his expression fell. “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t have said that. I… I just…. You’re usually pretty bold with people you’re attracted to….  I’d expected you to watch that recording and immediately pin that sweet man to a wall or bend him backwards over a console.”  

It had occurred to her. “This… just feels bigger than that. He’s my best friend… and he’s coming out of a really rough time.”

Curtis smiled tenderly. “Ah I see. Sex is one thing, but this is love .”

Her stomach turned at the word. “It’s big feelings, Curtis….  But let’s not jump to ‘love’ just yet.”

Curtis rolled his eyes. “Fine. It’s a love- ing friendship with a person you’d like to bend backwards over a console. Does that walk a more comfortable line for you?”

She smiled tightly. “Thank you, that’s much better.”

“So you’re worried about crossing a line from friends to partners?”

“I’m worried that may not even be what he wants.” She believed that Garrus had deep, complicated feelings for her. But whether or not those feelings bent to a romantic and sexual relationship was less clear.

Curtis gave her a withering glare. “You can’t be serious.”

She shrugged. “He shot me down before.”

“He did not …. I swear to all that is holy, there must have been a misunderstanding.”

She laughed, exasperated. “I was there , Curt! I flirted with him for months. Shit, I even invited him to my quarters. You can’t get much bolder than that!”

“Well, I don’t know!” Curtis shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “He’s an alien! Maybe being invited up to someone’s quarters doesn’t have the same subtext for turians that it does for us. And Garrus isn’t exactly Don Juan…. Did you ask him for sex directly?”

Shepard’s stomach dropped and she felt the blood drain from her face. “I… uh…. Shit.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “You’re absolutely right. I wasn’t direct with him.” She’d used body language and innuendo that could very well have gone over the head of a turian who didn’t have any experience with how humans flirt. “God damn it.”

Curtis laughed. “Well there you go! He didn’t reject you! He didn’t even know you were interested!”

“That still doesn’t mean that he’s interested.”

Curtis grinned at her and gave an exaggerated shrug. “Only one way to find out. But this time be direct .”

Chapter Text

Shepard looked him over for several seconds, a little half smile playing impishly on her features. “ It sounds like you’re carrying some tension ,” she said, standing up from the crate she’d been sitting on. “ Maybe I could help you get rid of it .”

Garrus stopped himself from laughing. It almost sounded like she was suggesting…. But no, she was just speaking to his point that human vessels don’t afford the same opportunities to let off steam. “ I… uh... didn’t think you’d feel like sparring ,” he said lightly. “You do realize you can’t use biotics in hand-to-hand, right?”

“What? You don’t think I could take you without biotics? I’ve got plenty of flexibility , big guy…. And I wouldn’t mind a demonstration of your reach .”

Now he did laugh. Had she missed the subtext of his story? “Uh… Shepard… When I said I had reach and she had flexibility, what I meant was--”

“Sex,” she said bluntly. “You were talking about sex.”

Garrus nearly choked on his own saliva. He cleared his throat. “That’s… ahem… That’s right. I wasn’t sure you….” he was beginning to feel uncommonly warm. They had to be misunderstanding one another. A translator glitch, maybe. “So you want to… spar, Shepard?” he asked. That had to be what she meant.

Shepard narrowed her eyes and gaped at him for several seconds then gave him a sort of helpless smile. “Um. No,” she said, scratching the side of her face. “I’m more interested in skipping to the tie breaker.”

“The uh… the tie breaker?” he stammered, subvocals squeaking. “You do realize the tie breaker was…”

“Sex. I am talking about you and me having sex . Sex sex sex sex… sex sex sex sex sex!” she released a heavy exhale through flared nostrils. “Sex.”

He felt the room spinning. Was this really happening? Was she actually…? Yes. She was. She was leaving nothing for misinterpretation. No translator glitch could explain her meaning away. He fumbled for an explanation, for the right way to respond to… whatever this was. “I… uh… I never knew you had a weakness for men with scars ,” he said with a nervous snort.

Shepard smirked. “No, just a weakness for you.” 

She closed the distance between them, and Garrus wondered if she could hear how loud his heart was beating. 

“And to be clear,” she said, her voice simmering and low, “jokes aside, innuendo aside, flirting aside, I'm talking about more than hooking up here.”

Shepard caressed Garrus arm, and for a moment his body felt so unstable and unreal, he thought she might pass right through him. But she didn’t. She stood there stroking his arm with her thumb, looking up at him, eyes wide and expectant. 

Then she retracted her hand and took a step back. “Garrus,” she said with a sad sigh. “I've given this… given us a lot of thought. I think we'd be good together, but if keeping things platonic suits you better, I'll still count myself damn lucky to be your friend. 

Garrus exhaled a long shaky breath. She’d been thinking of him as part of an us . An us that would be good together. If Shepard returning to life had been the most impossible thing to ever happen to him, this revelation was a close second.

Shepard looked away, and her cheeks and neck flushed a deep pink. “I have feelings for you, Garrus,” she said, her tone heavy. “I thought maybe I've been catching hints that you feel the same way. But if you don't--”

It hit him with sudden force that he’d been standing there silently while she was expecting a response. “I do!” he blurted out abruptly, startling himself. “I do feel the same. I just… I never thought… Wow.” He reminded himself to breathe. This was happening. This was actually happening. And he was completely unprepared for it.

Shepard smiled and her shoulders relaxed in a relieved sigh. “You really had me squirming there,” she said with a weak laugh and gave a gentle shove to his shoulder.

“You just… took me a little by surprise.” To put it mildly. “This is real, right? I’m not actually in sick bay recovering from a concussion?”

“Are you saying I’m the girl of your concussed dreams?” she said, batting her eyelashes.

“Of all my dreams,” he said before thinking.

She blushed and looked away. She was so damn beautiful. And she was saying she wanted him. For all his love and desire, he’d never seriously considered the possibility that she might return his feelings. But that’s what she was saying. Maybe not love, but physical and romantic feelings. For him. He couldn’t understand this.

He shook his head. “Shepard… I have to ask… where is this all coming from?”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

He paced in front of her, and a dam inside him broke as all his doubts made a mad dash to his tongue, competing for air. “I mean, when did you start…. And why would you…. I’m not even… What about…. Is this something you actually … not just…. Could we even…” He stopped and sighed. It was useless, and he was making a mess of things.

Shepard tilted her head and looked at him critically. “Do you want to finish any of those thoughts?”

“No,” he said, walking toward her. “Forget it…. Look, there's no one I respect and trust more than you.... If this is what you really want... and we can figure out a way to make it work, then... yeah, definitely … . Why the hell not ?” He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “But this is… damn big, Shepard.”

She nodded and closed the remaining distance between them. “It is,” she said as she reached up and tenderly stroked the side of his face with the backs of her fingers. 

He wanted so much to pull her closer to him. He ached for wanting it. But something held him back. A paralyzing panic that he couldn’t seem to silence.

They locked eyes, and Shepard frowned as though she could read his thoughts. “I've put you on the spot, haven't I?” she said, stepping back from him. “Why don't you take a little time to think it through, okay? Process. Make some pros and cons lists, if you'd like…. No knee jerk responses…. If we're going to do this… or not… I want us both to be sure.”

“Alright,” Garrus said, his voice shaky but grateful. “Thank you, Shepard.”

Chapter Text

Garrus cursed himself. The woman he loved had told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him, that she had feelings for him, that she thought they'd be good together. And he'd frozen. "What the hell is wrong with me?" he grumbled. In all his life he’d never been so damn nervous. And for what? Shepard had done all the work, put herself out on the line, taken on all the risk of rejection and humiliation for a chance at something that could be great. Really great.

Was it just surprise that had him so twisted into knots? He’d been so sure that her feelings for him bent toward friendship. There’d been no indication otherwise. He’d accepted that, been grateful for it, even. So when had things started to shift for her? And why ?

Garrus couldn’t help but wonder if Kaidan was a crucial piece of this puzzle. He’d broken Shepard’s heart just a couple weeks before. Maybe Garrus was a convenient patch, someone to ease the hurt and loneliness. A rebound. Not that Shepard would intentionally use him like that, but the pain of losing Kaidan might have triggered feelings and desires for Garrus that would fade as her heart healed.

Would that be so bad? He had to wonder. Garrus could be there for her in any way she needed, see her through a difficult time, help her blow off steam, and if things changed they changed. He certainly could think of worse things than a fling with Shepard. Reach and Flexibility.

Garrus shook his head. Maybe years ago he would have jumped at the chance to explore Shepard’s alien terrain without needing more from her. But he was past that now. If he had sex with Shepard, he would need to know he was more to her than a port in the storm. He’d want it to mean more to both of them. And he’d want it to be better than a fumbling experiment with an alien. Afterall, bad sex with a fling could be laughed off. But sexual incompatibility with someone you loved, someone for whom sex was important?

Garrus sighed. Could turians and humans be sexually compatible? Certainly not in a reproductive sense. If things did work out between him and Shepard, he’d have to let go of the possibility of having kids of his own one day. At least biologically his own. Garrus couldn’t deny that the truth of it stung. But there were other ways to have a family. If he and Shepard even got that far.

If Shepard even got that far. She’d escaped death over and over again. And the experience hadn’t made her more cautious. If anything, she was even less cautious than before. The stakes had gone up, and Shepard was always all in. Even with Garrus watching her back, odds were that Shepard wouldn’t make it to retirement. She’d eventually risk too much, and he would lose her. Garrus closed his eyes, remembering the pain of losing her two years ago, knowing that it would happen again. Would it hurt more if she was his partner? Would it be better to not entangle himself further into her life in the interest of avoiding future pain? 

No. By that logic he’d have been better off without ever having known Shepard, and that was a point he couldn’t grant. For all the pain that came with loving her, having her in his life was worth every bit of it. 

But what about risking losing her to other kinds of heartbreak? He wouldn’t trade his friendship with Shepard for anything. And if they tried to make a romance work and it fell apart, what would the fallout be? How many friendships survive in the wake of a painful breakup? If Shepard broke his heart… 

No, he told himself with certainty. He had to believe that their friendship was unshakable. Even if they had to eventually admit that being partners wasn’t a path that would work for them… even if they disagreed on that point… Garrus knew that they would both find a pathway back to friendship. She mattered too much to him to accept anything less. Losing her as a friend wasn’t a risk he’d have to account for, at least that much he could be sure of. 

Garrus found Shepard that night, right where he knew she would be: waiting for him in the lounge. She turned and smiled nervously at him as he entered. “I was hoping you’d show.”

He closed and locked the door. It was late enough that unwanted company was unlikely. But he wanted to be sure that no one would wander in making this even more awkward than it already was.

Shepard beared her teeth with wide eyes, in an expression he’d come to learn indicated nervous anticipation. It put him slightly at ease to know that she wasn’t completely without anxiety for this conversation either.

Garrus sat next to her and took a deep breath. “I've been thinking about what we talked about,” he began. “All the right feelings are there on my end… have been there for a long time, honestly.”

“I’m glad,” she said with a little smile. “It’s a good place to start.”

“But letting off steam, easing tension…. I've never seriously considered cross-species intercourse before.” He shook his head and cringed. “ Damn, saying it that way doesn't help. Now I feel all dirty and clinical.”

She laughed. “It’s all new to me too, Garrus.”

“You mean I’m not just another notch in your bedpost keeping track of all the aliens you’ve bedded?” he teased.

“Nope. My sexual exploits, while at times adventurous, have strictly been among members of my own species.”

Garrus looked down at his hands. He couldn’t even claim to have been adventurous among other turians. His sexual partners had been few, conventional, and none of them had been serious. He felt doomed to disappoint Shepard.

“Hey,” Shepard said, placing her hand on his. She must have noticed the change in his expression. “Talk to me. If you have doubts or fears, I want to know about them.”

“Look, Shepard,” he began, angling his body more to face her. “I know you could find something closer to home…. And Kaidan is going to realize he screwed up eventually. If this is--”

Shepard cut the air between them with her free hand. “I don't want Kaidan. And I don't want something closer to home .” She scooted in closer to him. “I want you , Garrus. I want someone I can trust. Someone who gets what I'm about.” She smirked. “Someone who jumps into hell with both feet because he likes the way biotic energy curls off my finger tips.” 

He laughed nervously, remembering his embarassing slip on the shuttle. “Don't forget those headshots,” he said and release a whistling exhale.

She grinned. “Mmhmm.” She reached up and carressed the side of his face. Warm tingles eminated from her touch, spreading down his neck, through his chest, and along his spine. “I admire you, Garrus,” she continued. “The way you make me laugh even when things are grim. The way you worry. The way you care. The way you put so much on the line for your ideals. I don't want you to be human or a replacement for Kaidan. I just want you to be you.”

Doubts that had seemed so critical a few minutes before evaporated in the gentle heat of her words and touch. As unbelievable as it was that Shepard wanted to be with him, he was starting to believe. They could have something real. Something worth taking risks for. Something that was worth every bit of pain that came with it. 

“Shepard, I…” he began, his voice trembling as his heart tried to rush ahead. But he didn’t want to rush this. This change between them needed to be handled like the precious thing it was.

“Alright,” he said, looking to her eyes, as his mind and heart settled things and dragged him back to the moment . “I can do that. I'll need to do some research to figure out how we… do the physical part of this.”

She smiled broadly.

“It will either be a night to treasure, or a horrible interspecies awkwardness thing... In which case fighting the collectors will be a welcome distraction. So, you know, a win either way.”

Her smile softened and she put a reassuring hand on his arm. “You know Garrus, if you're not comfortable with this, it's okay. I'm not trying to pressure you. If the interspecies thing is too weird for you--”

He shook his head. “Shepard, you're about the only friend I've got left in this screwed up galaxy... I'm not going to pretend I've got a fetish for humans, but this isn't about that. This is about us . And damn it, I really want there to be an us.”

“Yeah?” she grinned.

He nodded. “You don't ever have to worry about making me uncomfortable. Nervous, yes. But never uncomfortable.”

She blushed and her face lit up with a smile that turned his innards to happy, molten, goo. “So when should I book the room?” she asked, lifting her shoulders and eyebrows.

“I'd like to wait for a bit, if you're okay with it. Take it slow. Build up... anticipation.” He reached up and stroked her blushing cheek with the side of his thumb. “And in that calm right before the storm, take a moment just for us before throwing ourselves into hell for the good of the galaxy…. You know me, I always like to savor that last shot before popping the heatsink.” 

Shepard turned from him, bit her lips together, and closed her eyes, as a stiffled laugh hissed out of her nose.

His hand dropped, as he recognized the turn of her thoughts. “Wait a minute… that metaphor just went somewhere horrible.”

“On the other hand, you’re getting better at recognizing interspecies innuendo already!” she said, chucking him on the arm. “At this rate, we’ll have our flirting sorted in no time.”

“Your confidence is inspiring,” he grumbled.

Shepard leaned toward him and gave him a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. Her lips were warm and not nearly as wet as he’d expected. “I’m really happy, Garrus,” she said, her mouth still close to his. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Me too,” he admitted. Let’s try to make it last .

Chapter Text

It was clear that news of Shepard's survival had grown from rumor to common knowledge. Everywhere they went on Ilium, people whispered as they passed, sought Shepard out, asked for autographs, and, of course, laid problems at her feet. And Shepard, naturally, took them all on. Garrus and Tali stood back as their dashing commander hacked, charmed, and intimidated her way through the woes of Ilium. 

“I’d almost forgotten what this was like,” Tali said as she watched Shepard help a sobbing Asari to her feet.

“What?” Garrus asked. “Being in the presence of Commander ‘fix the whole damn galaxy’ Shepard?”

“Ha! She’s honestly going to solve a contract dispute with a hug. Who does that?”

“Commander ‘fix the whole damn galaxy’ Shepard,” he said, chest warming with pride. “That’s who.”

Sure enough, Shepard was soon walking back to Shiala, the Feros representative who’d put her to the task, to report that ExoGeni was amending the exploitative contract. Shiala seemed as much in awe of Shepard’s skills as Tali was. “ Maybe someday when I’m not organizing the colony, and you’re not… doing whatever you do… ” Shiala said, tracing her fingers down the N7 stripe on Shepard’s armor. The thought was left hanging as the Asari backed away, smiling coyly.

Shepard only raised her eyebrows slightly as she watched her go. Once Shiala was at a reasonable distance, Garrus stepped to Shepard’s side, wondering if he’d read the situation correctly. “Did that Asari just make a pass at you?” he asked curiously.

Shepard nodded, squinting off in Shiala’s direction. “I believe she did.”

“Huh.”

Shepard turned to him, crossing her arms. “Come on, Garrus. You're not the type to get jealous over something like that . Are you, big guy?”

“Nah,” he said, enjoying her teasing reassurance. “Mostly I'm just surprised it doesn't happen more often.”

Shepard cringed and hissed through her teeth. “Yeah… It happens a lot,” she said in a loud whisper.

“Uh... Good to know,” he said, wondering how many subtle flirtations had slipped past his notice over the years. 

Shepard’s omni-tool pinged, pulling her attention away from him, still smiling. “What’s up, Liara?” she said in answer to the call

Liara’s voice came over their squad comm. “Shepard, I’ve been analyzing the data you hacked for me. Can you meet me in the office so we can discuss our next move?”

The smile faded from Shepard’s face, and her jaw tightened. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.” She cut the comm line and turned to Garrus. “Why don’t you two go relax for a bit,” she said, her voice tense.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah. I don’t know. Liara is being evasive. I want to try talking to her alone… try to figure out what exactly she’s got herself into.”

And what exactly she was pulling Shepard into. “Alright,” he said, trying to stifle the worry that hummed in his subvocals.

“Don’t wander too far, okay?”

“We’ll stay close. Just radio if you need us.”

Shepard nodded and headed for Liara’s office while Garrus and Tali made their way to a nearby cafe.

Garrus sat down across from Tali at a table in a quiet corner of the coffee shop, and scooted a filtered tea across the table to her. He hated when Shepard did solo missions. With how widely recognizable she was, anyone with a bone to pick could wait for her to peel off from her squad and start a fight when she didn’t have backup. But he was comforted by the knowledge that if Shepard called, they could get to her within a couple minutes.

“ What was that?” Tali asked incredulously, once they had both settled into their chairs.

“What?” he asked, looking around.

“You! Back there with Shiala…. You flirted with Shepard,” she said in a dazed voice. “And she flirted back !”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Garrus said innocently. Though a little embarrassed to have his clumsy attempts at courtship on display, part of him was pleased Tali had noticed; it made it feel a little more real to have someone else confirm that Shepard was actually showing an interest in him.

Tali leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, the glowing lights of her eyes fixed on him in a steady stare.

Garrus sipped his tea slowly.

“I'm waiting,” Tali said. “I'm not budging until you confess. Big guy .”

Garrus put down his tea. He supposed if Shepard was willing to flirt with him in front of Tali, it was probably okay to let her in on recent developments. “It's... new,” he said haltingly.

Tali bounced in her seat and slapped the table. “I knew it!” she shouted triumphantly and scooted her chair closer. “Now you’re going to tell me absolutely everything .”

“Well,” he continued, speaking slowly. “Shepard… told me she's interested. And I'm… interested too.”

“Bosh’tet! I need details. ”

“There aren’t really any details to share,” he said, wanting to keep some things just between him and Shepard. “We're taking it slow.”

“Oh slow ,” she said dreamily, collapsing back into her chair and placing her hands over her heart. “So this is real . Turians only take things slow when they want it to be real.”

“You watch too many romance vids, Tali,” he teased, even as his heart fluttered at her observation. “But, yeah. I want it to be real. I really want it to be real.”

“Kelah! That's so romantic!”

He chuckled breathily and shook his head. “I still can hardly believe she's interested.”

Tali waved him off. “Bullshit. I could see it from the beginning.”

“Really,” he said skeptically. She’d certainly pegged his feelings for Shepard early on, but it was pretty unlikely that she’d sensed any interest from Shepard.

“Shepard always took you on away missions,” Tali said leaning forward against the table.

“She usually took you too,” he said with a laugh. “We were fighting Geth, afterall. She needed tech experts.”

“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “But Kaidan had technical expertise too, and how often did she bring him along.”

“Uh huh,” he said wryly. “And then she dated him. So your theory correlating romantic interest and party selection is probably not particularly solid, don’t you think?”

“Bah!” she said dismissively. “There was more to it than that. When you and she would fight… it was like you orbited each other.”

“Orbited,” he said flatly.

“I can't explain it. It's… like watching the Geth in battle. Like you are two platforms of a single consciousness….”

“Sure…”

She shook her head. “No… no…. That doesn't even capture it. It was more than that. There was feeling . There was heat . Sometimes after just watching you two in a battle, I'd have to vent my suit so my helmet wouldn't fog up.”

Garrus choked on his tea. “That's… uh… ahem.”

She pointed at him accusingly. “And don't think I didn't notice those late night chats. Up in the mess hall or lounge when almost everyone was asleep.”

He shrugged. “We were friends. We liked to talk.”

“She never talked to anyone else like that…. Why she ever bothered with Kaidan in the first place I'll never understand.”

“He loved her.”

“He worshipped her,” Tali corrected. “The way he used to talk about her, it was like she belonged on a pedestal.” 

“Yeah,” Garrus granted, thinking of the cruel fall Shepard had recently taken off that pedestal of his. “That might have played into it too. I think he made her feel like the hero she thought she needed to be… All that pressure on her. Being asked to do the impossible. She couldn't afford to be vulnerable then, and he never wanted that from her.”

The lights of Tali’s eyes blinked through the purple tint of her mask.

“Besides, I've heard he's very attractive. By human standards.”

“You've thought about this before,” Tali said, a teasing cadance to her voice.

He looked away. “Once or twice.”

“And Shepard can afford to be vulnerable now?”

“Maybe not with the whole crew,” he said, knowing that Shepard was even more armored among the Cerberus crew than she had been aboard the SR-1. “But, I think she needs an outlet for that vulnerability. Someone she can trust enough to show all her sides to without worrying that they'll lose faith in her.”

“All her ‘sides,’ huh?” Tali drawled. “Do you have a favorite ‘side’ of Shepard, Garrus?”

He squirmed, thinking of a few. “Ehh, I'll have to get back to you on that. Like I said, we're taking it slow.”

Chapter Text

The battery door opened behind Garrus. His mandibles flared happily knowing it was her. “Shepard,” he said as he turned, loving the way it felt to say her name now, no longer worrying about whether she noticed the purr of his subvocals under the breathy consonants and vowels. 

“Hey, Garrus,” she said brightly. “Got a minute to talk?”

“ For you? Definitely .” He was in the middle of some calibrations, but they could wait for a bit. 

She entered the room and leaned back on the diagnostic console he’d been working on. “I was thinking,” she said, coyly tilting her head, “maybe you'd like to come up to my quarters tonight?”

Garrus' stomach dropped. “Your… uh… quarters?” he stammered.

She held up her hand and laughed. “Don't worry. No blowing off steam until you're ready.”

He nodded, grateful that she hadn’t made him ask if that’s what she had in mind.

“But I thought maybe we could work on building up the anticipation… getting closer… exploring what this thing between us is… and where we want it to go.” She seemed to be blinking in slow motion as she stood there looking up at him. “You know… like a date.”

“A date huh?” he said, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading outward from his core at the thought. “Yeah… I'm up for that.”

Shepard smiled. “Great. And if it feels right… maybe we could make it a regular thing? Just you and me, getting comfortable .” She said the word “comfortable” like she could taste it, her tongue, teeth and lips savoring its shape.

His eyes fluttered and he shifted in his armor. “Spirits. Keep saying ‘comfortable’ like that and I…”

“... might have to pop your heat sink a bit early?” she offered, moving a step closer to him.”

“Ha!” he laughed, shaking his head. “You're not going to let that one drop, are you?”

“Not a chance. I’m going to have it engraved on a plaque over my bed.” He really hoped she was joking. “But as far as sex, I'm good to go whenever you are, if you decide you don't want to wait.”

“Tempting, Shepard. Really tempting,” he said, flattered. “But I want to do this right. And for me, that means waiting a bit.”

She shrugged. “I'm good with that too.” She raised her eyebrows. “Would you prefer I dial back the temptation? I don’t want to make you feel pressured.”

“Nah. I kind of like the way you make me sweat.” He shrugged. “Besides, It's good for my confidence…. I'm still half in disbelief that you're interested.”

Shepard pouted and placed a hand on his chest. “Then I'll keep doing my best to convince you. Because, fast or slow, I'm excited to explore every facet of this cross-species liaison.” Her hand closed on the collar of his armor, and she pulled him in for what he’d heard humans call a smooch.

“Me too,” he said, as she released him, his whole body humming with nerves and excitement.

Chapter Text

Garrus stood at Shepard’s door, his heart in his throat. You want her, so go get her, Wrex’s voice said across a two and a half year chasm. What had seemed so laughingly impossible then, was now just within his grasp. Shepard, just beyond that door. Shepard who thought they'd be good together. As long as he didn’t mess it up.

Crap , he thought, shaking his head. I’m going to find a way to mess this up . How could he not? Despite his research into human courtships, he felt completely out of his depth. It had been more than five years since he'd last had a date, and it hadn't gone particularly well then either. And that date had been with another turian. Now, adding in the difference of species between him and Shepard, the odds of getting through the evening without embarrassing himself were pretty low.

His only consolation was that at least Shepard hadn't been put off by his awkwardness so far . Spirits, it wasn't like she was going into this expecting him to be charismatic and smooth. She had actually met him, after all. More than that, she knew him pretty damn well. And, inexplicably, she had been clear on the point that he was who she wanted.

I just want you to be you . That's what she had said, he reminded himself. And he had to trust that she meant it. Even if her taste was somewhat baffling. So he took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pressed the door chime.

"Come on in, Garrus," she called out. "It's not locked."

He pressed the button to open the door and walked through. Shepard was down the stairs, straightening up a stack of datapads on the coffee table. “You know, you really should lock your door, Shepard,” he said, stopping to admire her model ship collection.

She chuckled. “Why? I live on a warship.”

“A warship staffed by Cerberus,” he said. “You know they’ll probably turn on you eventually.”

“And if they do, it would be pretty convenient if they came up here instead of making me go all the way downstairs to shoot them. Plus the doorway provides a useful bottleneck if they all decide to take me on at once.”

“Ha. Fair point.” He tapped on the glass of Shepard’s fish tank. Nothing but bubbles, some plastic plants, and a tiny figurine of a diving mech.

Shepard stepped to the base of the stairs and looked him up and down with a grin on her face. “I’ve never seen you out of armor before. You look good.”

“Ha!” He looked down at his casual wear. “I thought heavy armor might send the wrong message for a first date.”

“Good call.”

He walked down the steps, nerves fluttering through him. “Wow. So this is where Commander Shepard sleeps.”

“Or where Commander Shepard tosses and turns, anyhow,” she said as he walked past her.

 He approached the bed, pressed his fingertips into the edge of the large mattress, and smoothed the sheets with the palm of his hand. “Hmm. Not bad.”

“Take it for a spin, if you like,” she said, smirking at him. “I'll even join you if you want some help working out any tension.”

He laughed. “I… uh... think the couch is more my speed. For now.”

Shepard nodded and gestured for him to follow her to the seating area. She sat and Garrus froze at being left with the choice of where to sit. Shepard must have noticed because she rolled her eyes. “We’ve sat together like this a dozen times, Garrus. It’s just a change of place.”

It was just a change of everything .

She patted the spot next to her. “Just sit. Okay? Maybe put your arm around me if it feels right.”

“Right. Yeah,” he said, shaking himself out of his anxious spiral as he sat down next to Shepard. “Sorry. Nerves.”

“It’s okay,” she said, shifting her body a little closer so her shoulder overlapped his arm. “I’m a little nervous too. This is a big deal, us taking this step together…. But I want you to know that I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Yeah,” he said, putting his arm along the back of the couch, the nearness of her filling him with a warm glow. “Me too.”

Shepard leaned the side of her head into his arm. “Good. That’s what really matters. Everything else we can figure out as we go.”

He relaxed into the couch, letting the stiffness in his limbs release. Exactly where he wanted to be. He sighed happily. “Well, this is… very cozy,” he said.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked, looking up at him.

He nodded. “It's a nice couch.”

Shepard smiled. “I meant with the coziness.”

He looked into her eyes, and his mandibles flared. “That's nice too,” he said, as his arm slipped from the back of the couch to her shoulders.

“Yeah, it is,” she said with a contented sigh.

Garrus shook his head. “I never thought I'd be here. Your cabin. Your couch. My arm around you.”

She smirked. “Probably would have gotten here a lot sooner if we'd been better at interspecies flirting back on the SR-1.

He looked at her. “What? What do you mean on the SR-1?”

“Well… I was catching up with Curtis a few weeks ago. And he was very excited to hear you were on the Normandy again. So, we got to chatting about you.”

Garrus’ stomach flipped. “Oh Spirits,” he muttered, dread building at the thought of what Curtis might have told her.

“He let me know that in his expert matchmaker opinion, you and I were made for each other.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad. Maybe he owed Curtis another drink to thank him for giving Shepard the nudge they needed.

But Shepard continued. “I told him I'd been interested in you back on the SR-1, but you'd shot me down.”

A jolt of complete confusion hit Garrus. Shot her down ? “What!... Wait…. What?” 

She laughed. “He told me in no uncertain terms that he was sure there must have been a miscommunication. That it would be a cold day on Palaven before you'd reject me. So he convinced me to be a little more direct this time.”

Garrus shook his head roughly, trying to set right whatever piece of his mind had apparently slipped out of place. “Wait a minute. You had feelings for me ?” He gawked at her. “ Shepard . How am I only hearing about this now?... And when did you think I'd shot you down? There was never any proposition to shoot down.”

She cringed, still smiling. “I remember something about Turian bedtime stories.”

He stared at the floor, trying to recall when they’d ever talked about Turian bedtime stories…. Suddenly it returned to him. Years ago Shepard had teased him about having a voice that could put her to sleep. “ That was a proposition?” On what planet?

She laughed, pivoting to face him. “Of course it was! Did you honestly think I wanted you to read me a bedtime story?”

How could he have known? “I thought it was a joke , not innuendo! It’s not like you’d flirted with me before.”

“Oh my god, Garrus!” she said, shoving him playfully. “I flirted with you a lot .”

“ What ?” She was playing some kind of joke on him. She had to be.

 “And then when I asked if I should give up trying to make you blush, by which I meant if I should stop flirting, you told me to quit, because me making you blush is a ‘biological impossibility.’” She shook her and looked up at the ceiling. “I was so damn sure that was your gentle way of telling me that we were an impossibility as far as you were concerned…. It was all pretty embarrassing.”

He remembered now the way she had flushed scarlet and left in a hurry. His chest tightened at the thought of his own obtuseness. "I don't know what to say."

She shrugged. "So, I moved on."

"You mean, if I'd picked up on your flirting… you and I…"

"...might have blown off steam together on the way to Ilos," she finished for him.

"But you and Kaidan…"

"...didn't start getting serious until well after you inadvertently took yourself out of the running."

It could have been him. She’d wanted it to be him. It was a dizzying thought. He shook his head and looked away. “I hate myself.”

She laughed. “It was my fault too! I should have been more direct. I can't believe it never occurred to me that you just didn't recognize human flirting.”

He turned back to her and noticed she was blushing. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not great at recognizing any flirting. You may have noticed that I have essentially zero romantic skills.”

She smirked. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I’m here, afterall.” 

She was. Damned if he knew why. But he must be doing something right.

“I’m curious, though: if you'd picked up on my interest back then, would you have made a move?”

He thought of Kaidan purposefully approaching Shepard’s door. Could Garrus have done the same if he’d had any inkling Shepard might have wanted him there? He had to admit, it was hard to picture. “I'm… not sure. I've never been exactly bold in the courtship department, Shepard. I'm really not programmed that way.” He snorted. “Honestly, you probably would have had to clobber me over the head with a direct proposition regardless.”

She relaxed back into him and he caressed her arm. “It's probably for the best, anyway,” she said with a sigh. “I did die shortly after... and I can say from experience that death and two years in a coma is a hard thing for a relationship to bounce back from.”

He was certain that she was wrong on that front. Even with his limited romantic skills, Garrus would never have made the mistakes Kaidan did, no matter how thrown he was to have Shepard return to him. Still, he understood the fear underneath her words, the doubts she had that love could endure the whirlwind that was her life. 

“Where do you put our relationship’s chances with a suicide mission up ahead?” he asked.

“Well, you’re big with the cheer, aren’t you?” Her smile faltered. “We better make sure it's not suicide. Because I'd kind of like to see where this thing between us can go.” 

He held her a little more tightly, knowing the odds of them both making it through the Omega relay mission weren’t ideal.  “Me too.” 

“Besides the suicide mission, a more-than-likely impending Reaper invasion, and the question mark of human-turian sexual compatibility… do you see any major obstacles up ahead for us?

He stared ahead at a distant point, far beyond the bulkheads of the Normandy. “Yeah. A couple.”

She sat up straight and turned toward him, breaking their contact. “Let’s hear it then.”

He shook his head. “It’s… more longterm stuff. Nothing we need to worry about now.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll probably find some way to mess this up long before we get that far.”

Her brow furrowed. “But if this thing between us goes the distance… you do have concerns.”

He tensed. “See? I’m already messing it up. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I asked, Garrus,” she said, firmly.

He sighed. “I don’t want to get ahead of ourselves here. But turian society is a bit more xenophobic than most. It’s how we wound up tangling with your people in the First Contact War.”

She nodded. “But you’re not like that.”

“No… but my parents are. They’ll have a hard time accepting us being together.” His father had already had more than a few unkind things to say about Shepard over the years, and that was without him knowing that Garrus loved her. “They might eventually come around, but some aspects of our cross-species liaison might be harder for them to swallow.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Such as?”

“Ehh… Grandchildren.”

Shepard smiled sadly. “Ah. Human-Turian children would be another ‘biological impossibility.’”

“Yeah.”

“Does it bother you ?”

He looked away, feeling the sting of it. “Yeah. One of those things on my pro/con list…. I'll be honest, the fact of biological limitations are… disappointing.”

She pulled one of her knees to her chest and frowned. “Yeah. I get that. Not that I’d planned on having kids anytime soon, but closing the door on the possibility would come with a lot of complicated feelings.”

He could imagine. Losing her own family the way she had, being the last surviving member of the Shepard line... giving up the prospect of having biological children of her own would be about a lot more than just a cultural impetus to procreate.

“But…” she said softly, pulling Garrus out of his thoughts, “Curtis is as much a brother to me as Sam was. It’s never mattered that we’re not biologically related…. And I think it would be the same with children. Biological or adopted, they’d be mine regardless.” She cocked her head and searched his face. “Could you be okay with not being the biological father of your children? I can understand if you can’t. But it would make this whole thing between us a no-go.”

A peace settled over Garrus hearing her talk, imagining a future for them that had seemed impossible just a week before. “I can handle it, Shepard,” he said, taking her hand. “I want to see this through with you.” 

“You're sure?” she asked, eyes dancing.

“Yeah. It’s going to take more than xenophobic parents and biological incompatibilites to make me walk away from this.”

She laughed nervously. “God. This has got to be the first time I've talked about in-laws and kids on a first date.” She reached up and caressed the side of his face. “I guess with being friends first… this already feels very real… and high stakes... I want to be sure that our eyes are wide open about the line we're crossing.”

He placed his hand over hers, hugging her warmth and tenderness to his cheek. “Eyes wide open. I want this to go right, Shepard. More than anything…. But, for the record, if you ever want to cross back to being friends, today or years from now, it will always be okay…. I can deal with a broken heart, as long as I know you'll still be in my life.”

She blushed and smiled. “Always. Friends or partners, you’re stuck with me for good.”

Chapter Text

“You’re sure you want to do this alone?” Garrus asked as Shepard strapped on her armor.

She nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

He understood. She had mourning to do. And as usual, that was something she wanted to do alone. “I guess the attack probably still feels pretty fresh for you,” he said as he fetched Shepard’s preferred weapons from the armory cabinet.

“Sleeping through the interim will do that,” she said as she pulled on her boots. “The rest of you have moved on, but I’ve barely had a chance for it to sink in yet. You know?”

His heart ached, knowing that visiting the wreckage to place the SR-1 memorial would be a heavy hit for her. “Shepard, it could be good to have some support down there,” he said, handing her the pistol. “It’s a lot to take on by yourself.” 

She took the gun from him and clipped it into place. “I just need a little space to sit with it.” She faced him and grasped his upper arm in a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be okay. It’s just something I need to do.”

He nodded, stepped back to let Shepard pass, and followed her out of the armory. The shuttle was waiting for her, prepped and ready to go.

“I’ll send a transmission when I’m ready to head back,” she said, looking off toward the shuttle. “But let’s keep the comm closed unless something urgent comes up. I’d like to have some privacy.”

Garrus tensed. Over the years he’d made a habit of tuning in to Shepard’s comm channel whether he was on the ground with her or she was doing a solo operation. “If that’s the way you want it,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I’ll wait for your transmission.”

She patted him on the shoulder then boarded the shuttle alone.

Shepard had maybe overestimated how much moving on he’d done since the attack. The memory of losing her felt immediate and chilling as he watched her shuttle take off and slip through the bay’s kinetic shields and into the void.

Garrus took the elevator to the CIC. If Shepard sent a transmission with the comm channel closed, it would go to the cockpit, not his omni-tool. So that’s where he would wait. When he got there, he found Doctor Chakwas and Tali standing behind Joker, all with tense expressions.

Joker looked over his shoulder at Garrus and snorted. “And now it’s a reunion.”

“This is the spot,” Tali said to Garrus quietly. “The exact coordinates of the SR-1 when the engines blew.”

Garrus suppressed a shiver as he looked to the escape pod, imagining Shepard securing Joker just before the bridge was sheared from the CIC, losing her grip, and being hit by a blast that…. A shuddering inhale shook through him as he pushed the thought away.

Doctor Chakwas put a hand on Joker’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Jeff?”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. A pained expression crossed Doctor Chakwas’ features as she nodded and removed her hand.

Tali turned to Garrus. “I thought you’d be with Shepard on the surface.”

He shrugged helplessly. “She wanted to be alone.”

“She's not the only one,” muttered Joker.

Doctor Chakwas frowned, then smiled thinly. “I think I could use a drink. Anyone care to join me?”

Tali nodded. “Garrus?”

“Thanks, but I’m going to wait here for Shepard’s transmission.” Garrus recognized that the Doctor was trying to give Joker the space he wanted, but he wasn’t in the mood to grant it. He’d mostly forgiven Joker for his part in Shepard’s death, now that she was back. But being there now, in the place where Joker’s failure had gotten Shepard killed, Garrus found himself unwilling to coddle him through his well-earned guilt. So as Tali and Doctor Chakwas headed toward the mess hall, Garrus settled into the navigator’s chair.

“You know, I could radio you when Shepard signals,” Joker said with a biting tone.

Garrus ignored him and stared out the window, trying not to imagine Shepard floating, untethered, burned, and gasping for air. Trying not to think of the way it felt seeing the blast from his escape pod, knowing she was out there, dead or dying, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. His pulse quickened. “Anything on scanners?” he asked, gruffly.

“There are no anomalous readings,” EDI said.

Joker turned to look at him. “You think this is another trap?”

Garrus stiffened at the suggestion. “Well… now I do.” There was a pattern of bait and switch that this would fit into. Lure Shepard to the wreckage of her ship, and suddenly the Collectors would be on top of her. He shook his head. “Damn it. I should have gone with her.”

Joker furrowed his brow and turned back to the flight controls. “So… You and Shepard,” he said offhandedly. “That’s like a thing, now, right?”

Garrus shot him a glance, wondering how he knew. “Yeah. It’s a thing.”

Joker snorted. “And what’s that like?”

“It's… unexpected.” He could think of other words to describe it, but not for Joker.

“Yeah, you're telling me,” Joker scoffed, punching commands into the console to maintain an orbit over Shepard's position on the planet below. “You and Shepard…. Did not see that coming… nope… not… a… bit.”

He suspected Joker was trying to goad him. But having been blindsided by Shepard's interest himself, he could hardly argue with Joker's surprise.

“I mean a human and a turian ?” Joker continued. “Weird. You've got to know that's weird, right?”

“It's not like it's never happened before,” Garrus said, prickling.

“Oh yeah. I know,” he said, glancing briefly at Garrus. “ Plenty of human/turian fetish vids out there. You know, for people who are... into that…. I mean, I'm not… But if that's your kink... more power to you.”

“It's not a kink,” Garrus snapped.

Joker held up his hands. “Fair enough. Fair enough…. I'm just saying, if a turian really wanted to get with a human, there are a lot of vids out there he could watch to get an idea of how that might… work.” 

Suddenly it occurred to Garrus that underneath the provocations, Joker was actually trying to help. Help distract him from the stress of being back in this place. Help make things easier between them. Help Garrus satisfy Shepard? Admittedly that part was a bit awkward…. Touching, but awkward. 

"I…uh... alright," Garrus stammered. "That's… something."

"Mister Vakarian," EDI said. "Would you like me to bookmark a selection of relevant material from Mister Moreau's personal archive?"

"It's joking," Joker said a little stiffly.

“ Sure ,” Garrus teased.

Joker was quiet for several beats before speaking again. “But, you know, if I heard about a few vids that featured some solid human/turian action…. I could send them your way.”

“Uh… Sure.”

Joker’s eyes remained fixed on the console. “Shepard deserves to have her world rocked.”

“We agree on that.”

When Shepard’s transmission came in, Garrus went to the cargo bay to meet her. She hopped out of the shuttle, helmet still on, and dropped a tangle of thin chains in his hands before heading to the armory without a word. Garrus stared at the weighty heap of metal, parting the ball chains with his fingers to reveal the dog tags. He recognized the names of those who went down with the Normandy SR-1 stamped into the metal plates. Shepard had collected them all.

He followed her to the armory. Shepard was sitting on the bench, frozen, still in full armor. He set the tags down on a modding table, and sat next to her. “You okay?” he asked in a low voice.

She removed her helmet and placed it on her lap. Her hair was matted and her face was ashen and drawn. “It’s all pretty text book,” she said, heavily. “Guilt. For failing them. For surviving. It’s hitting me pretty hard right now."

He put his arm around her and she leaned in to him. "I can relate,” he said. “After the Normandy and Omega…" he shook his head, feeling a wave of his own guilt wash over him. It was much less than it had been but still had the power to stop his breath from time to time.

She nodded. "Like I said, it's textbook.”

"You've gotten through it before.”

"And I'll get through it again," she sighed. "But it does get… heavy. You know? Always surviving when others didn't. Like a cosmic debt building up."

"Shepard, if there were a cosmic debt, believe me, you'd be in the black,” he said, looking down at her. “You have saved the galaxy once already, remember. And we’re on our way to doing it again.”

“But no matter how much good I do, it never really makes the weight ease up.”

He pulled her closer and nuzzled the top of her head, the faint scent of sweat and almonds tickled his nose pleasantly. He wished with his entire being that he could lift all the weight from her shoulders, give her the peace she deserved. But he knew it was beyond him. Still, he’d do what he could to lighten her load. “I’ll arrange to have the tags sent to Hackett so he can get them to their families.”

“That’s on me, Garrus,” she said in a strained voice. “I was their Commander.”

“Let me do this, Shepard,” he said firmly. “Please.”

She sat quietly for a minute. Then she straightened up and gave him a sad, exhausted smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

He nodded. “Anything else I can do?”

She hung her head and exhaled heavily. “Just… don’t die. I think I’m just about at my capacity for loss and guilt. If you get killed because of following my orders…” She buried her face in her hands.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, his subvocals quavering.

Chapter Text

Garrus leaned over the armory work-bench, getting a closer look at the cracked dome of his helmet. He’d taken a bit of a beating in the Shadow Broker’s base. Lucky for him, Shepard had pulled him clear of the fight before things got worse. In time to save his life, but not in time to save his armor. He sighed, unsure if he’d be able to salvage it. “A new suit, too,” he grumbled to himself.

The sound of someone entering the armory caught his attention. He released a disappointed exhale at the recognition that, while the footfalls were human, they weren’t Shepard’s. Spirits, am I really in that deep? he thought to himself. Just a few hours apart while Shepard helped Liara get situated on the base and he was already feeling the heaviness of missing her. And when Zaeed approached the workbench, Garrus had to admit that the irritation that flared in him had less to do with who it was and more to do with who it wasn’t.

“If you’re waiting for the bench, I’ll probably be a while yet,” he said as Zaeed leaned against a nearby locker. “I can message you when I’m done.”

Zaeed shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Shepard’s still on the base so we’re all stuck twiddling our damn thumbs. Might as well twiddle here.”

“Suit yourself,” Garrus said. “You want to hand me the omni-gel?”

Zaeed opened the supply cabinet and grabbed an armor maintenance kit off the shelf. He set it down on the bench.

“Thanks,” Garrus said as he opened the kit and removed a tube of gel.

“Easy with that stuff,” Zaeed said while Garrus began to squeeze a line of the polymer into the crack of his helmet. “You use too much and you’ll be buffing it til next week to try to get the finish smooth.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled.

“Want me to do it for you? I’ve been patching up armor for longer than you've been alive.”

“I’ve got it, Massani.”

Zaeed leaned against the work-bench, hovering while Garrus continued to work on the repair. As Garrus completed filling the crack, Zaeed nodded and frowned. “Not bad. Done this a few times before yourself?”

Garrus picked up a buffing pad and set about smoothing the filler. “Yeah. Between Omega and fighting with Shepard, I’ve had to do my share of patch jobs.”

“I’ll bet,” Zaeed said. “Your girl has a talent for getting us knee deep in it, that’s for sure.”

“Only knee deep?” Garrus said with a chuckle.

“Ha! You’re right there. Up to our balls now…. Or whatever you turians have between your legs.”

“Not balls,” Garrus muttered, blowing bits of gel dust off the helmet to survey the progress of his repair.

Zaeed snorted. “Fair enough. God knows Shepard’s got enough balls for both of you,” he said, scratching the stubble on his jaw. “I get it, though.”

Garrus looked up at him briefly before returning to buffing the patch. “Get what, exactly?”

Zaeed leaned in. “You and Shepard. I get it.”

“Uh… okay,” he said, wondering how he of all people knew about their relationship. “Exactly what is it you ‘get’ about us?”

“It's like this: everybody knows that good girls always fall for the bad boy, right? They can’t fucking resist ‘em…. But it goes the other way too: Guys like us… we need our angels.”

“Guys like us?”

“Yeah. Renegades.”

Garrus snorted. “Renegade, huh? I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

Zaeed gave him a shove on the shoulder. “Because she got to you, mate. I saw you back on Omega. You don’t do the things you did there without a little rebel in ya…. But then your angel showed up.”

“Uh huh,” said Garrus, amused. “So Shepard would be my ‘angel’ in this scenario then?”

“Right. Sorry. You turians don't have angels, do you?”

“No, not really…. We have spirits that embody virtues. Similar concept, maybe.” 

“Alright. Close enough…. Shepard’s a bloody paragon, right? All virtue, and mercy, and sacrifice, and fucking self-control…. Damn inspirational.”

“ You find Shepard inspiring?” asked Garrus incredulously.

He shrugged. “Course I do…. She sees the best in people like us… in you… and that makes you want to be better than you are to live up to what she sees. Right?” He slapped his palm on the workbench, knocking over the omni-gel. “Classic redemption plot. No one can resist it. I don’t care who you are. Tale as old as fucking time.”

“You know,” Garrus said, uncomfortable with the notion that he and Shepard could fit into some tired trope, “you kind of make it sound like you're interested in Shepard.”

He scoffed. “Damn right I am. Half the people on this ship would kill to be in your shoes right now.”

“ Really ,” Garrus said, not quite surprised that it was true, but a little taken aback by how readily Zaeed admitted it.

Zaeed snorted. “You can’t fall for the biggest hero in the damn galaxy and expect her not to turn some heads. Hell, if I was fifteen years younger, I'd give you a run for your money, Vakarian. Get right down on my knees and beg her to reform me…. Lucky for you, I'm too set in my ways for the redemption plot to take any more.”

“Lucky for me,” Garrus echoed.

 Zaeed fixed Garrus with his good eye and lowered his voice. “Watch out for Thane, though. That’s a man who’s itching to be saved. And the way he looks at your girl… he might be planning to make a move. Could end badly for you.”

“Wait…” Garrus said, considering. “‘Make a move’" as in make a play for Shepard… or kill me?”

“Ha! Could go either way with him, I suppose…. Probably won't go after you directly, though. Wouldn't go over well with Shepard.”

“Probably not.”

Zaeed folded his arms and looked off toward the door. “Still, better watch your back in the field with that one. One minute he's got your six, and the next a varen or four just happen to slip by.... Before you know it, you're dead, and Shepard has a new shoulder to cry on.”

“Hm, pretty devious,” Garrus said, unconcerned.

“More likely he'll try to seduce her right out from under you.” 

“That would be a less extreme approach, yeah.”

Zaeed looked at him expectantly. “So?”

Garrus picked up his helmet, and turned it under the light to check the repair. “ So what?”

“ So , what are you going to do about Thane?”

Garrus walked to his locker and put the helmet inside with his other field gear. “Nothing, I guess?”

“ Nothing ?”

Garrus shrugged. “I assume Shepard is spending time with me because she wants to. And if she decides she'd rather spend her time with Thane, that's her call.” 

“Come on!” Zaeed shouted in outrage and disbelief. “You aren't going to fight for the woman you love!”

Garrus laughed. “You saw my helmet right? I literally fight for Shepard every day.”

Zaeed shook his head and scowled. “Not what I fucking meant.”

Garrus closed his locker and leaned back against it. “You said half the people on this ship would kill to be in my shoes?”

Zaeed nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Fighting all of them on top of fighting everyone else we already fight… sounds pretty exhausting. I'd rather spend my energy enjoying my time with Shepard. Who knows how much we’ll have.”

Chapter Text

Garrus watched from the couch while Shepard tipped an Ilium skald fish into the aquarium. “Okay, shipmate,” she said in her commander voice as the fish settled into their new environment, “this is a hell of an assignment. And I’m not gonna lie, the outlook’s not good for you. But you’re part of my crew now, on a mission that could save the galaxy. And I’m going to give it my all to make sure that you get through this in one piece.” She turned to Garrus and cringed. “You’ll help me remember to feed them, right?”

He laughed. “First pet, Shepard?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Yeah. Probably a bad idea, but I’ve got this big gorgeous fish tank…. Seemed a shame to leave it empty.”

“Do they have a name?”

She looked at the fish and scratched her head. “Uh… Bluey?... Blasto?... Hackett?”

“Blasto works.”

“Maybe it’s better not to get attached,” she said, wringing her hands. “They’re probably on a suicide mission of their own.”

“Careful, Shepard,” he teased. “If Blasto hears you talking like that, their morale is going to take a hit.”

She smirked and tapped on the glass. “Okay, Blasto. We’re in this together.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared as he watched her. “Speaking of names, I was thinking… maybe I could start calling you ‘Cassidy?’” he ventured. 

Shepard tensed.

“Not when we're on duty, of course,” he assured her. “But, when it's just the two of us… What would you think about that?”

Shepard flushed and grimaced. “‘Cassidy…’” she said warily, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don't know, Garrus... I think I'd rather you stick with ‘Shepard.’”

It took Garrus by surprise. “Oh! I thought….” He’d misread things, maybe, and assumed that there was an intimacy between them that exceeded the reality of what she was ready for. It was a stinging revelation that he hadn’t prepared himself for. Damn . He cleared his throat, trying to recover himself. “That’s… that’s fine too,” he said, nodding, trying to sound casual, but failing. “Sorry for overstepping…. ‘Shepard’ it is. And if that… changes… you can… let me know.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “Overstepping?” she asked, confused. Then her shoulders dropped in recognition. “No, Garrus. It's not that, I just….” She sighed and shook her head.

“It’s fine, Shepard, really,” he said, reminding himself that while he’d been in love with her for years, she hadn’t yet fallen for him. And the last thing he wanted was to ruin what there was between them by pushing too hard too soon. “You don't owe me an explanation. Whatever you're comfortable with works for me…. And if we're not ‘there’ yet, it's okay. No rush on my end.”

She smiled wanly and sat on the foot of the bed. “I appreciate that. I really do. But I want to be clear that this has nothing to do with my first name being too familiar. We are familiar. It's just… ‘Cassidy’ has baggage.”

“Baggage?” Garrus asked, uncomprehending. 

She leaned forward with her forearms resting on her thighs and took a deep breath. A familiar shadow settled on her features.

“Shepard,” he said, sensing that they were approaching something difficult. “You don’t have to explain. You say we’re in a good place, that’s enough for me.”

“No,” she said heavily. “I want you to understand. It’s just… not the easiest thing for me to talk about…. When Kaidan asked, I told him I hated my first name; that’s what I always tell people. But it’s bullshit.” 

Her glistening eyes locked briefly to his, and he held his breath, knowing that she was about to drop something that scared her to share.

“I haven't gone by ‘Cassidy’ since Mindoir,” she said, gaze falling to the floor. “Not with anyone but Curtis. And even he never calls me ‘Cassidy’ or ‘Cass’ when I'm on assignment or checking first.”

“Because that’s not who you are anymore?” Garrus asked.

Shepard’s breath shook. “Ha. No, it is who I am…. That’s… uh… that’s part of the problem.” She closed her eyes. “When I hear it... it just brings stuff up. Puts me back in a place I don’t want to be, a place I can’t afford to be most of the time. And all the big difficult stuff that I try to keep buried just bubbles up to the surface.”

Understanding settled on Garrus like a shroud. He rose from the couch, shaking his head. “And I just blindsided you with it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Shepard.”

She opened her eyes and sniffed. “It's fine. You didn't know.”

He wanted to sit with her, put his arm around her, restore whatever sense of safety he’d unthinkingly violated. But he worried that touch could make things worse, so he fought the impulse and stood his ground. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded and stood up. “I'm okay. I can’t always predict when hearing it will hit me hard or not. So, it’s better we just take it off the table. The things we face….” She shuddered. “If I have one bad day, everything could fall apart. So, I can’t afford any bad days.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” he said, worrying about what it was doing to her to carry that every day.

She shrugged. “It’s the reality.”

He couldn’t argue with her. So much depended on Shepard and her ability to push through everything that was thrown her way. “I get it,” he said.

Shepard took his hands in hers. At their touch, the tension in her released a little, and Garrus’ own sympathetic tension released in kind. “I feel safe with you, Garrus,” she said with a little smile. “There's no one I trust more…. Maybe after our mission is complete and we aren't under constant threat of death, I'll be in a better place for us to try out the whole first name thing.”

“Shepard,” he breathed her name and enveloped it with a protective hum. “You don't have to prove anything to me.”

Chapter Text

The evening was all he could have asked for. Shepard had special-ordered graxen for him and popcorn for herself. She’d installed the projector and screen in her quarters and had even tracked down a copy of the director’s cut of Last of the Legion . And now she was cuddled into him, watching the gratuitous turian flexing play out on the screen. Perfection. Yet thoughts of Sol’s message kept pulling him away.

Shepard looked up at him. “Not enjoying the movie?”

His focus returned. “Ha! Are you kidding? It’s a classic of turian cinema. I’d lose my Palaven citizenship if I didn’t enjoy Last of the Legion .”

“You just seem a little distant,” she said, reaching over to pause the film. “Anything on your mind?”

He exhaled heavily. “Yeah. Sorry. Just a little distracted. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “Garrus, if something is bothering you, I’d like to know about it.”

“There’s really nothing for you to do, Shepard.” As much as he wanted to be open with her, family had to be a fraught topic for Shepard, and taking up more of her already taxed mental space with his struggles went against his determination to never add to her already heavy load. “I promise it won't affect the mission. I’ll sort it out. Let’s just watch the movie, okay?”

Her nostrils flared, and she sat up, turning to face him. “You think I only care what you’re going through if it affects the mission ?” she asked, hurt straining through her tone. “Is that seriously the impression I give you?”

“No!” he said, horrified by his misstep. “I only meant I don't want to put anything… extraneous on you. You have plenty of other things on your plate to worry about without me piling on.”

Her expression softened. “That’s… very considerate. But forget about other things,” she said “I’m here for you, Garrus. And I don’t want you to think that just because I have a few things on my shoulders that you can’t depend on me.”

“I know.” She always looked out for everyone, him especially. But maybe everyone should learn to lean on you a little less, he thought as he took her hand in his. “There really isn’t anything you can do.”

She shrugged. “I can listen at least.” 

Shepard wasn’t going to let this drop, not unless he told her point blank that he didn’t want her involved. And that would be a lie; he wanted her involved in every part of his life. But he hated the thought of being just another person asking Shepard for more, more, more.

“Garrus?” she said after he’d stared at her silently for longer than he’d realize. “Do you want me to back off?”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just family stuff.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Family stuff? What kind of family stuff?”

“I got a message from my sister today. I guess it’s distracting me a bit.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself. “My mother is sick. I’ve known for a while. She has Corpalis syndrome. It’s a degenerative disease. No cure, and the treatments… treatments haven't been going well lately. That’s what Sol’s message was about.”

Shepard frowned and squeezed his hand. “Oh, Garrus,” she said, her voice sympathetic and pained. “I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were going through that.”

“I'm doing what I can to get her in for a Salarian trial procedure. But there have been obstacles.”

“Maybe I can help with that,” she said, her tone brightening. “I could call Councilor Valern. Or maybe Liara or Mordin have some contacts. Even Cerberus might be able to help pull some strings… though that might be best left as a last resort.”

Garrus shook his head. “I told you: I don't want to add to your plate, Shepard. It’s a good idea to talk to Liara and Mordin, though. I’ll do that tomorrow.”

“I'll contact Valern,” she said firmly. “He owes me for the Destiny Ascension.”

“Shepard…” he said, subvocals betraying his frustration at her relentless need to help.

She smiled reassuringly. “Really, Garrus, it's not a problem. Just a call.” She reached up and caressed the side of his face. “Please. I want to do this for you and your family.”

His shoulders fell as he admitted defeat, helpless in the face of Commander fix-the-whole-damn-galaxy Shepard. “Thanks, Shepard,” he said heavily. “Honestly, the trial procedure is a long shot. It might buy my mom a little more time, keep her lucid for longer. That's about it.”

“That's not nothing.”

He nodded. “It's not nothing.”

Shepard’s kind smile faltered as her gaze and hand fell to his knee. “Would you like to go back to Palaven?”

He snorted at the absurdity of the idea of him ever willingly parting from Shepard. “And leave you to fight the Collectors without me?” he said, timbre as light as he could make it. “Not a chance.”

She winced. “Garrus,” she began cautiously. “I know you've had some rough patches with your family… but if your mom's time is short, maybe you should take this chance to try to make peace.”

“And where would that leave you?” He almost snapped the words.

“I’ve got a good team,” she said with a tone that might have passed for nonchalant if she’d been talking to anyone but him. “We’ll struggle on without you somehow.”

It was unthinkable. Anger prickled through him, even as he understood why she was trying to convince him to leave. “Shepard,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “If you died out there fighting the collectors while I took a family holiday, I'd never forgive myself.” The thought of it alone was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

Shepard bit her bottom lip, tense as he’d ever seen her. “But, Garrus…”

He pressed his hand to her warm, soft cheek and locked his gaze to hers. “Me being on Palaven wouldn't change a damn thing. Not for my mom and not for any family conflicts.” he shook his head. “Honestly, it would probably just make things worse…. I can't make a difference there. But here, with you, I can make a difference…. Besides, if we don't stop the Reapers, it won't matter if the treatments have any effect; everyone will be on borrowed time anyway.” 

Her shoulders relaxed and she turned her head to kiss his wrist. “Okay,” she said softly. “If you're sure.”

He nodded. “I'm sure. This is where I need to be.”

She mirrored his nod then slumped sideways into the couch. “I don't think we've ever talked much about your mom,” she said, moving on.  “Just that she wouldn’t be a fan of us being together and doesn't really understand you.”

“Yeah. She tries. More than my dad does, anyway. But ultimately she's a traditionalist just like he is.” 

“It’s funny, if a human was described as a traditionalist or xenophobe, I wouldn’t expect them to go raise a family on the Citadel amongst aliens.”

He laughed. “My people have been in the galactic community a little longer than yours. Up until a few years ago, C-sec was almost entirely staffed by turians. And it’s still primarily our fleet that serves as the station’s defense. That’s not by accident. People like my parents work hard to keep a lot of power in turian hands. And maintaining that power means maintaining a presence and keeping the aliens in check.”    

“Makes sense,” she said, nodding, though her jaw tightened in disapproval. “So your dad kept a turian presence in C-sec. What did your mom do?”

“She was a lawyer.”

Shepard whistled. “Dad a legendary C-sec agent and mom a lawyer? It's no wonder you’re so devoted to justice.”

He snorted. “And so frustrated with all the ways the whole criminal justice system constantly drops the damn ball?”

She smirked. “That too.”

“At least my mom tried to see where I was coming from, and she did her best to keep the peace between the rest of us." He laughed. “When my dad and I would get into it during meals, she’d tell us she had to hear far more captivating arguments all day, so if we couldn’t at least say something worth ruining dinner over, we could at least shut up until the plates were cleared.”

“And would you shut up?”

“Ehh… Usually. If we didn't, she'd blast music to drown us out.”

“Ha! I like her style. I should try that the next time Miranda and Jack get into a shouting match!”

“It's surprisingly effective.”

“I'll bet.” Shepard continued to smile, but as she sat there next to him, staring past him, a distant melancholy settled on her features.

“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on her knee.

“Hmm?” she said as her gaze snapped back to his face. Her smile had a forced quality.

“You okay?” he repeated.

“Sure,” her voice squeaked and she patted his hand with her own before standing up. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, is it my turn now to charm and/or intimidate you into telling me what’s on your mind?” he teased.

 She walked up the stairs. “Just a fleeting memory,” she said as she grabbed a couple glasses from the shelf. “Do you want a glass of water? It seems dry in here.”

A memory. Perhaps of her own family gatherings around the dinner table. He got up from the couch, climbed the stairs, and walked up behind her as she poured water from a pitcher into two glasses. “Shepard,” he said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. “If this is bringing things up for you, we don't have to talk about family. I know it's a heavy topic.”

She turned and smiled at him appreciatively. “Garrus, I want to know about your family and your childhood. Yeah, of course it’s going to make me think about my own family. But most of my memories of them are good memories, and the accompanying wave of grief usually passes quickly.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, cocking and stooping his head to get a better read of her expression.

She squeezed past him, carrying the water on her way back to the couch. “I wouldn’t have asked about your mom if I didn’t think I was in a good place to handle it.”

He sighed and nodded. He had to trust that she knew her limits best. “Alright,” he said, following her down the stairs. “I’ll try not to worry about it.” He’d fail, but he’d try.

She placed the glasses on the coffee table and sat down. “If I can talk to Batarians without falling apart, believe me, I can handle a chat about your family. I’m not that fragile.”

He joined her on the couch again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give the impression that I think you’re made of glass.” He put his arm around her and she relaxed into him. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met…. But I want you to know, it’s okay to be fragile with me. I’m not going to think less of you for it.”

Shepard stared at her hands as her face flushed. “Thank you,” she said in barely a whisper.

“And Shepard,” he said, hoping she could hear the sincerity and love in his voice, “no pressure, but, if and when you ever want to open up about anything in your past… the good, the bad... and all associated feelings… I'm here for it. For you.”

She smiled softly. “The things you say….” she said, shaking her head. “But believe me, you don't want to order the whole Shepard trauma platter. Better to keep my past where it is.” 

“You don't think I can handle it?” he asked, wishing he could make her understand how much space he had made for her in his heart, room enough for anything she was carrying.

She shrugged. “I think we deal with enough horrific things in our day-to-day. No reason to add my baggage.” She looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Please try to understand, I’m not shutting you out. I don’t talk to anyone about my past. Not even Curtis.” 

“I know,” he said, wondering again at the cost of carrying so much on her own. “It's your call what you share or keep buried. But don’t do it for my sake. Because I want all of you, Shepard. Scars included.”

Shepard was quiet for several seconds, staring at the water glasses on the table, before speaking again. “Funny enough, none of my original scars made it into the Cerberus rebuild,” she said with a note of melancholy. “They erased them all like they never happened.”

He cocked his head remembering the way the light used to hit the smooth, shiny skin of the old scars on her face and hands. “I always thought the one on your lip was kind of cute.”

Shepard touched the spot where that scar used to be with her thumb and smiled. “I got that one falling out of a tree when I was six, before we moved to Mindoir.”

Warmth fluttered in Garrus’ chest as he realized she was choosing to let him in. Sharing a safe memory from a time before the slavers had taken that safety from her.

“My brother was supposed to be babysitting,” she continued distantly, “but he and Curtis were making out behind the shed, leaving me on my own.... Big mistake. I'd been eyeing that tree for weeks after I'd snagged a kite in it. Everyone told me the tree was half dead and wasn't safe to climb, so I'd have to wait for it to be cut down to get my kite back…. But I couldn't wait. As soon as Sam turned his back, I went for it.”

“Same old Shepard,” he said.

She laughed and seemed to become more present. “Yeah. I made it all the way to the kite. Must have been about four meters up.” She cringed. “But once I got up, I wasn't entirely sure how to get back down while holding a kite. Long story short: I fell, broke a couple bones, got a concussion, and split my lip wide open.” She shrugged. “Got my kite back, though.”

“Ha! Definitely the same old Shepard. Complete the mission at any cost.” It made him happy to know that some aspects of her hadn’t been born from the trauma of Mindoir. The boldness and determination that he loved belonged to that six-year-old Cassidy.

She laughed. “Poor Sam and Curtis watched me like hawks after that.” Her smile faltered and her eyes glistened on the cusp of tears. “And never stopped.”

Garrus pulled her closer and nuzzled into her hair.

“He could have gotten away,” Shepard’s voice came small and strained.

“Hm?” Garrus asked.

“Sam. He was on the outskirts of the colony when the Batarians arrived. He could have gotten away when he saw the ships land. But he came for me instead…. He’s the only reason I got out.”

Garrus’ chest tightened in sympathetic grief and gratitude. “More than one hero in the Shepard family tree,” he said, hoping it was the right thing to say.  

“I know what it's like to lose family, Garrus,” she said looking into his eyes. “I'd give a lot for the chance to have more time with Sam and my parents… to say goodbye.” She placed a hand on his chest. “Are you sure you don't want to go see your mom while you still have the chance? Does your family even know where you are?”

“I've been in touch… no details, though.” Garrus tightened his hold on Shepard and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. It hurt to imagine his mom slipping into dementia or death without the chance to see her again. But it couldn’t compare to another driving pain that sat like a rock in his throat. “I can't leave you, Shepard,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I lost you once when my back was turned, and now…”

“You're going to watch me like a hawk?” she said sadly.

He nodded, recognizing the full weight of Shepard’s train of thought. “With any luck, I'll get to say my goodbyes after the mission is complete. But for now, what I need most is to be right here, with you, where I'm useful, shooting things, saving the galaxy, and making sure you stay in one piece.”

She sat up and caressed his face. “And if you don't get the chance to say goodbye? If you don't get peace or closure before she passes?”

He placed his hand on her hand. “Then I'll deal…. I promise, Shepard, I don't have any reservations about this choice. I'm right where I belong.”

Chapter Text

Garrus turned briefly to look over his shoulder at the sound of Shepard entering the forward battery behind him. Her shoulders were tense and exhaustion was starting to show around her eyes.

“Hey, Shepard,” he said. “How's Tali doing?”

Shepard sat heavily on a cargo crate and sighed. “She seems okay. But I don’t know. I think she needs time for it all to sink in. Today was… a lot.”

He turned around to face her. Garrus was sure it had been an emotionally disorienting day for Tali. Aboard the Alarei it had been clear that she wasn’t seeing things with her usual clarity, so obsessively focused on her father’s life and legacy that she’d been ready to delete the evidence that exonerated her. “She’s lucky you were there. Without your defense, it would have been a lot worse.”

“It shouldn't have been necessary. But I’m glad it was enough. If it had come down to a choice between Tali and her father’s legacy….” She shook her head. “I would have chosen Tali, even if she’d hated me for it.”

“I know,” he said, crossing his arms. “Thankfully spending two years dead hasn't dulled your diplomatic skills.”

She laughed weakly. “Was that diplomacy? I thought I was mostly shouting and finger-wagging.”

He shrugged. “Whatever works. You were incredible regardless.” He warmed with the same pride he’d felt watching her speak fiercely for Tali aboard the Rayya. Her speech had such fire and moral clarity that four admirals had cowed in shame under her judgment. She was a marvel, and for some reason she had chosen him. “Someday I’d like to see you take on the Primacy like that. Just to see what happens.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, wincing in pain at the tension she was carrying there. “Thanks. At least Tali wasn't exiled…. I doubt I swayed the Admiralty from their determination to start a damn war, though.”

“Probably not,” he granted. “But don’t put that on yourself, Shepard. The war with the geth has been almost three centuries in the making. No one could stop it. Not even you.”

She nodded. “Yeah. It worries me, though.... When the Reapers do show up in full force, are we going to be able to put old conflicts aside long enough to unite against them?”

“With the right leadership and a clear galactic threat? Maybe.”

She shook her head and stood up. “By the time the threat is clear, it might be too late. We need to be preparing in advance, putting aside old conflicts now, building and coordinating a joint fleet.” She clenched and unclenched her hands anxiously. “The worst part of spending two years dead was waking up to a galaxy still sleeping on the Reaper threat. Two damn years wasted.”

He exhaled heavily as his gut twisted with the familiar feeling of letting Shepard down. “I remember those early days after the attack on the Normandy. We did try to continue your work in proving the Reaper threat… for a while. But no one on your old squad had any political sway. You died, and we were all nobodies screaming into a void. Even Anderson didn't have the same pull as the other Councilors. Meanwhile efforts to shut us up were in full force. I was pushed out of C-sec, records were sealed, people on your old crew were reassigned or grounded, and no one with any real power would take an audience with any of us.” He shook his head, recalling the shame and maddening frustration of it all. “Eventually we all gave up…. We didn't exactly do you proud, did we?”

Shepard closed the distance between them and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Garrus, I don't blame any of you. I doubt I could have convinced the Council either. God knows they've never taken anything I've said on faith so far.”

He met her gaze. “But you wouldn't have given up.”

She shrugged. “I might have; no one likes beating their head against a wall.”

“Ha,” he chuckled as he reached up and fondled the short-cropped hair at the base of her head.  “No, you wouldn't have. Giving up isn’t who you are.” She was still that six-year-old pulling a kite out of a half dead tree.

She gave him a weak smile. “I guess we'll see. Because after this mission is over I'm going to test the limits of how loud and persistent I can be. If I can't persuade them with evidence, I'll badger them until they're so sick of hearing my voice they'll mobilize, if for no other reason than to shut me up.”

After watching her on the Alarei, he believed she just might be able to pull it off if given the chance. “You're an inspiration. We all should do as much.”

Chapter Text

“Garrus Vakarian.” 

“Spirits!” Garrus jumped at the unexpected sound of his name spoken in Thane's raspy voice. He hadn’t even heard the footfalls of the drell’s approach. He turned away from the diagnostic console to face him, thinking only briefly of Zaeed’s warning of potential assassination. “Thane… can I help you with something?”

Thane’s expression was inscrutable as he blinked at Garrus. “Yes. A clarification, if you would.”

“About?” Garrus asked, uneasy.

“You and Shepard. You were close friends before her death.”

“That's right,” Garrus said. He sensed the direction this was going.

“But now you wish to change the nature of that relationship?”

“Yeah.” Garrus crossed his arms, wondering if Kaidan had had to field so many questions about Shepard when they’d been together.

“I see.” Thane held his hands behind his back. “And Shepard reciprocates?”

“Surprisingly, she does.”

Thane’s face tipped slightly downward in what Garrus assumed was an expression of disappointment. “Ah. I suspected that may be the case.” Thane bowed slightly. “Thank you for clarifying.”

“No problem,” Garrus said with a shrug. “I take it you're interested in Shepard.”

“I am. But it is better this way…. Becoming involved with her would go against my better judgement.” He looked away. “Just the same, I find myself… helplessly drawn to her. Enthralled by all she is, all she does, all she represents.”

“I… can relate,” Garrus said.

“The strength of your bond to one another is apparent. But I was unsure of the nature of that bond…. You love her?”

Garrus nodded.

Thane bowed again. “Cherish the time you have together. However long or short.”

“I do. After losing her once… I won't take a damn second for granted.”

“Good.” His gaze fell. “I am gratified that Shepard bestows her heart upon one deserving of the gift. Know that I will give all I am to protect your beloved with the same ferocity with which she protects others.”

Garrus nodded again. 

Thane turned to leave, but paused at the threshold. “She may never know peace. Not until her soul returns to the sea. But it is a comfort that she at least knows love.” After speaking these words, he left.

Garrus looked after the drell, both unsettled and touched by this brief encounter. He could recognize in Thane the same feelings he’d grappled with years ago, before Shepard’s death: deep love without the need or expectation for reciprocation. And as sensitive as Thane was, Garrus also suspected that his love wasn’t based on a facile understanding of Shepard like so many others who fell for the Commander. He saw her with an intuitive clarity that Garrus appreciated. But Thane’s parting thought that Shepard would never know peace had struck a nerve. It was a cruel prediction, however kindly communicated, and Garrus would not allow himself to accept the likely truth of it. 

Chapter Text

Of all the places Garrus had fought through, the Cerberus facility on Pragia had been the worst. It was all he could do not to fall apart as the story of the place took shape around them with every cramped cell, every blood stain, every heartbreakingly small skeleton. Shepard had felt it too. He’d caught her mumbling “just focus on the mission” to herself several times, and she’d avoided looking at him, perhaps afraid that seeing his emotions might bring hers to the forefront. “Just focus on the mission.” If not for her example, he might not have been able to push through himself, and he was certain that Jack wouldn’t have made it out without Shepard pulling her back to the moment over and over again.

When they’d returned to the Normandy, Shepard had gone directly to her quarters, without even stopping to put her armor and guns in the armory. Garrus had asked EDI to alert him when Shepard left her quarters, not wanting to intrude on her need for space to decompress. But after three hours had passed and Shepard still remained in her cabin, Garrus decided to risk it.

When he entered her quarters, he found Shepard sitting at her desk in her bathrobe, hunched over datapads. Her armor was in a heap at the foot of the stairs. She looked up at him briefly before her gaze returned to her work. “Hey,” she murmured. Every muscle in her small frame was tensed, her bottom lip was marked by teeth imprints, and her face had a chilling bloodless color. He was glad he’d decided to come up. Something was distinctly off about her.

“Hey, Shepard,” he said gently as he leaned back on the desk next to her. “How are you holding up?... That mission was rough.”

Her nostrils flared and jaw clenched. “Yeah,” she said, her voice raspier than usual. “It just got rougher.”

Garrus’ eyes fell to the pads spread out in front of Shepard. Several of them displayed photos of children, others seemed to be shipment manifests and various reports.

“It’s the data we hacked on Pragia,” she explained, following the line of his sight. “I've been going through it, and I learned some things I… wish I hadn't.”

“What did you find?” he asked as tension gripped in his chest.

She shook her head and frowned. “Something most people don't know about Mindoir is that it was conceptualized as a refuge for young biotics and their families. A chance for biotics to live and grow and just have a normal life without stigma, registration, and restrictions… It's why my family was there. It's why most families were there. Almost every family on Mindoir had at least one biotic child.”

Garrus inhaled sharply. “I don't like where this is going.” A connection between the Cerberus facility on Pragia and biotic children on Mindoir could only mean one thing. 

“Cerberus orchestrated the attack on Mindoir,” Shepard said, voice cracking with fury as she held up a datapad. “They needed more biotic children for their sick experiments... so they told Batarian slavers exactly where to find them… The kids on Pragia, the kids Cerberus ran experiments on, the kids they killed… a lot of them came from Mindoir.”

He had no words as the enormity of her discovery hit him.

Shepard tossed the datapad back onto the pile. “I knew these kids, Garrus!” she said hotly, face twisted is anger and disgust. “Cerberus didn't catalog their names. But their intake photos, video recordings of experiments, their… autopsies… I knew them... I was almost one of them.”

He should have come up to her cabin sooner. He shuddered realizing that she’d been alone for hours watching the Cerberus footage of her childhood friends going through hell. Had her brother not given his life to get her out of Batarian hands, she might have been among the dead on Pragia. Or she would have become another Jack, torture and trauma twisting her into a biotic weapon. He closed his eyes as emotion threatened to make him crumble. He couldn’t let that happen. She needed an anchor through this storm. Focus on the mission . He opened his eyes and said her name, “Shepard,” imagining his subvocal lovingly wrapping it in a protective chord that connected her to the present, to something solid and real, to him.

Shepard pressed her palms to her eyes. “I've put in a lot of work to accept what happened on Mindoir, to heal from it the best I can,” she said in a low voice. “The things I saw and experienced. Losing so many people I loved. My family's death... My survival. The cost of my survival. “ Her hands dropped to her desk, and she looked up at him with eyes tensed and red against the full force of the pain that threatened to break through. “I was in a bad place for a long time, Garrus. A really bad place. But I… I thought I was past the worst of it. Then something like this… just opens those old wounds right up, you know?”

He nodded and placed his hand atop hers, gently curling his fingers underneath. “I'm here, Shepard. Whatever you need.”

Chapter Text

He had to hand it to Cerberus; they’d managed to procure better dextro rations than the Alliance ever had aboard the SR-1. Still not exactly a taste of home, but he could at least manage to chew and swallow the reconstituted cutlet on his plate without cringing. 

“Garrus,” said a voice behind him. “May I join you?”

He looked over his shoulder at Samara holding a food tray and a cup of tea. “Sure,” he said congenially. “Glad to have a little company.”

She sat across from him and placed her meal on the table. “It has been many years since I found myself in the regular company of others. The simple pleasure of becoming acquainted with someone over the course of multiple conversations is something I haven't experienced since before I became a justicar.” 

“Plenty of opportunities for that here,” he said. They’d had a few meals together like this. Samara’s social skills were a little rusty, but it didn’t bother him. If anything it was comforting to not be the most awkward person in the room for a change. “Anything in particular you want to talk about?”

She smiled slightly. “I wish to express admiration for you as a comrade.”

“Uh… thank you!” he said, sincerely flattered. He thought for a moment how pleased ten-year-old Garrus would have been, devouring every issue of Justicar Heroes , to know that he’d one day be paid such a compliment.

“Your commitment to justice is admirable, as are your skills in battle,” she said evenly. “Further your battle sympathy with Shepard is most impressive and inspiring to behold.”

“Wait. Battle sympathy?” he asked.

“An approximate translation of an Asari concept which describes an ideal pairing of warriors in combat.”

“ Battle sympathy , huh?” he repeated curiously. “Ideal pairing in what sense?”

“In battle, you and Shepard are always fully aware of one another. You know her abilities, how she fights and moves, her strengths, her weaknesses, and her limits. At every moment of a fight, you know where she is, the state of her barriers, the heat of her biotics, how many clips she has remaining, and what her next move will be. And she is no less aware of you. You move in perfect sympathy. Two parts of a whole.”

“You noticed all of that?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course.”

He shrugged, trying to conceal his pleasure at her observation. “Well, we've fought a lot of battles together, watching one another's back. It's all just second nature now.”

“Typically it takes many decades of fighting by one another's side to build such a bond. And even then true battle sympathy is rare. In addition to exceptional skill and familiarity, it requires total trust, respect, intimacy, and a deep connection that transcends the physical. I have only witnessed battle sympathy in bonded Asari. To see it in two so young and of other worlds is remarkable indeed.”

A warmth rose in him. “That’s… wow,” he breathed.

Her eyes widened. “Has no one remarked upon this before?”

He shook his head. “Not like that. Not exactly.” Tali and Wrex had both commented on the particular attunedness of the way he and Shepard fought together. But what Samara was saying was responding to something deeper.

“And you’ve never noticed it yourself?”

“I've noticed that fighting next to Shepard is more intuitive than I’ve experienced fighting with others…. But I figured it was just a byproduct of experience, getting used to fighting side by side, and having complementary skills and weaknesses.”

Samara smiled at Garrus in a way that made him feel a little like an adorable child under her gaze. “You could fight with a thousand other warriors for a thousand years each, and likely never find a partner of such perfect sympathy. It is a rare bond, only possible between true soul mates. Or so we Asari believe.”

Soul mates . Garrus’ mandibles hung slack as he stared speechless at Samara.

She tilted her head slightly as she studied him. “I hope I do not assume too much,” she said cautiously. “You are mates, are you not?”

“Uh… we’re… we’re together,” he stammered. “But not… mates. Not yet. It's still pretty new.”

Samara’s expression relaxed back into her matriarchal smile. “I see. Your romantic relationship may be new, but I sense your love for one another is not. With true soul mates the love pre-exists even the first meeting.”

“What do you mean?”

“The shape of Shepard's spirit was known to you, long before you encountered one another in flesh. She is the answer to your question, as you are to hers. Coming to know her more deeply as an embodied being is a gradual, mystifying unveiling of all the ways you knew and loved her already.”

Samara's casual description, so perfectly capturing his experience of falling for Shepard, shook Garrus to his core. “How can you… how can you be sure of that?” he asked, baffled.

“It is evident in your every interaction. On the battlefield and off. The way you speak of one another. Even uttering her name reveals your feelings. Do you doubt it?”

“No,” he said without thinking. Then he sighed in embarrassment at the absurdity of it. “I don't know.” He scratched the back of his head. “‘Soul mates?’ ‘Battle sympathy?’ It sounds like something out of myths and legends. It's nothing I ever would have believed in.”

Her smile broadened. “What are you and Shepard if not heroes of legends in the making? In time your story may inspire myths that will teach future generations lessons of loyalty, strength, honor, sacrifice, and love.”

Garrus laughed. “I can certainly believe that of her . ‘Shepard’ is already a household name.”

Samara considered him thoughtfully for a while. “I wonder, how does it feel to be the partner of one of such greatness, a woman admired and despised by so many? Is it an honor? Is it intimidating?”

“Both, I guess?” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Honestly, I can still hardly believe she sees me as anything other than a friend or subordinate. She's the first human Spectre, hero of the Citadel. And that doesn't even begin to get it at the heart of what makes her so special. I mean, she could have almost anyone she wants. Who the hell am I?”

“The one she wants,” Samara said matter-of-factly. “As I said, you are the answer to her soul's question.”

Was he? “I don’t know. It’s a nice thought.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t like this, Shepard,” Garrus said, gun at the ready as Shepard approached the console. “Doors opening and locking down, playing games with the elevators…. He’s been corralling us the whole time.”

“I know,” Shepard said, reaching for the interface.

He put a hand on the front of her shoulder, making her pause. “So why did he let us in here? Exactly where we need to be to disrupt his connection to the outside world. It’s too convenient.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t call anything about this convenient. But, I agree.” She looked at one of the station's cameras that was following their movement. “It’s like David’s working at cross purposes with himself. Attacking us one moment, guiding us through the next.”

“Guiding us right into a trap,” he grumbled.

 “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s trying to tell us something, if I could just piece it together. He’s afraid, but… I think he really does want us to make it all stop.” She looked into Garrus’ eyes. “I need to try to help him the best I can. But be ready.”

Garrus sighed and exchanged a worried glance with Tali. “Yeah. I’ll be ready.” 

He and Tali took up positions to cover the door, ready for geth to come pouring through at any moment, while Shepard set about hacking the panel. “I’ve almost got it,” Shepard grumbled. 

Garrus tightened his grip on his rifle. But then Shepard let out a strangled sounding cry that made his blood go cold as ice. His gaze snapped to see her, hands still on the console, cybernetics glowing brightly through her skin. “Shepard!” he shouted, rushing to her. But Tali intercepted him, pushing him back with her entire bodyweight.

“Don't, Garrus!” she shouted. “It’s the AI, it’s in her cybernetics.”

“We have to help her!” he pleaded, trying frantically to get around Tali.

“It infected her systems through touch , Garrus! For all we know, it could infect your cybernetics too if you make contact!”

Damn it . She had a point. And while his cybernetics weren’t half as extensive as Shepard’s, he couldn’t be of much help to Shepard if his omni tool and implants were taken over. He nodded and breathed heavily as Shepard stumbled back from the console. “I won’t touch her,” he promised Tali, who immediately backed off with a relieved exhale.

The sight of Shepard moving unsteadily under the AI’s control made panic pulse through Garrus. “Shepard, can you hear me?”

She made no indication she could.

“We can’t even risk scanning her,” said Tali, shaking her head helplessly.

“Damn it! We’re going to figure this out, Shepard!”

Before he could even begin to figure it out, Shepard stumbled toward the door. He moved to follow. The least he could do was keep the geth off of her while Tali, the AI expert, worked out what else they could do. But as soon as Shepard cleared the threshold, the doors snapped shut before Garrus could even get a finger hold on them.

“No!” he shouted, clawing at the door as terror clawed at him. They were trapped in the room, and Shepard was defenseless. 

 “It's locked down completely,” Tali said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We won't be able to get through.”

He kicked the door. “Damn it!” Then he whirled on the AI’s camera, which twitched to follow his movements. “Cyborg bastard! We’re trying to help you! But I swear if you hurt one hair on Shepard’s head, I’ll personally set off the nuke to blow you and this whole damn station to hell!”

“Maybe he's taking Shepard somewhere where she can help him,” said Tali, calmly.

“Then why lock us in here?” he snapped.

“He might be afraid we'd interfere.” she shook her head and looked off toward the door. “If he has control of Shepard’s cybernetics, he wouldn’t need to lead her to a trap. He could just stop her heart.”

The suggestion just about stopped his heart. “You’re not making me feel better, Tali,” he growled.

She looked back to Garrus. “What I mean is, he obviously doesn’t want Shepard dead, or he’d have killed her already. He needs something from her. Something he can’t do for himself. And if Shepard was right with what she said before, he might be trying to show her how to end this.”

Garrus wasn’t in the mood to empathize. “Well, I'm not waiting to find out what his intentions are,” he said, removing a mine from his belt and stomping to the door. He set about attaching several mines to the door.

“I suppose that’s one way to handle it,” Tali muttered.

Garrus stood back and surveyed his work. He nodded. That should do it . “Okay. Get behind something.”

They both took cover on the far side of the room. “You’re sure about this?” Tali asked.

“Fire in the hole!” He pressed the detonator and the doors blasted open with a satisfying bang.

The AI screamed something inscrutable at them as they squeezed through the opening left by the explosion and into the hallway. 

Garrus checked his omni-tool for Shepard’s location. She hadn’t gone far. “This way!” he shouted and took off after her. But it didn’t take long before the AI locked down another door in their path. And another. Garrus didn’t have enough explosives to blast through them all. Again, he tried pointlessly to pry into the crack of the door with his fingertips.

Then the sound of gunfire reached him with as much painful force as if the bullets themselves had struck him. “No! Damn it! No!” he shouted, pressing his hands to his ears and pacing like a caged feral varen. Shepard had been forced into a kill zone to be executed while he was stuck behind a fucking locked door. It was like the SR-1 again, so damn close to her and nothing he could do. But as he was forced to listen to the cruel sound of gunfire, he recognized the familiar quality of one of the discharging weapons. “That’s Shepard’s pistol,” he said in trembling relief. He leaned back against the locked door and silently thanked the spirits that Shepard had somehow managed to break through the control the AI had over her cybernetics in order to fight back.

The fight went on for several minutes, and then all shots stopped. Garrus tried to steady his breath as he waited for some sign, any sign, that Shepard had won. “Please, Shepard,” he breathed. “ Please .”

The door he was leaning against turned green. All of the doors turned green. “The locks are disengaging!” Tali exclaimed.

“Shepard, if you can hear me, we’re on our way to your position now!” Garrus shouted over the comm as he opened the door and continued his race to Shepard’s location.

As they drew close to her position, he could hear the sound of raised voices. Her raised voice. He ran faster, worrying that she might be on the brink of another fight. But when he caught sight of her through a door up ahead, she appeared to already have everything well in hand; Shepard was pressing her gun to Gaven Archer’s forehead. The scientist was unarmed, hands up in surrender, and still Shepard held her gun against him. For a moment fear curdled in Garrus’ gut at the thought she must still be under the AI’s control to do something so out of character. But in the next instant, in one smooth motion, Shepard lowered her gun with her right hand and slugged Archer with her left. A biotic punch that knocked him to the ground 

“Shepard!” Garrus shouted as he ran into the room. And then he saw it: the reason Shepard had been ready to execute the scientist. David Archer. Garrus froze in horror and gaped, unable to take his eyes off the abomination before him. “Spirits,” he muttered. This was what Archer had done to his own brother?

Tali came to a stop next to Garrus. “Kelah… What have they done?”

Shepard stood over Archer, biotics glowing menacingly. “I suggest you leave now, before I change my mind about letting you live,” she said through gritted teeth. “And if you ever come near David again, I will kill you far, far faster than you deserve, you fucking monster.” She spat on him in utter contempt.

Archer scrambled to his feet and shot one last look at David.

“Run,” Shepard said, tone warning him that her mercy was quickly approaching its limit.

Archer obeyed, nearly tripping over himself to get out of Shepard’s sight.

Shepard pressed her hand to her ear and opened a comm line to the ship. “Normandy, I need a medic at my location, ASAP.”

“Acknowledged, Commander,” EDI’s voice responded.

Shepard approached David. “Help's on the way, David,” she said, voice still tense and on edge. “We'll get you out of there soon. I promise.” Then she turned and walked past Garrus without so much as a glance on her way out the door.

Tali and Garrus exchanged a glance of concern. “Do you think she would have killed him if we hadn’t gotten here when we did?” Tali asked barely above a whisper.

He wasn’t sure, but he could hardly blame Shepard for putting her toes right up to the line. He looked up at David. In Shepard’s place, he would have pulled the trigger. “I’m going to check on her,” he said.

Tali nodded. 

Garrus left the room and found Shepard just outside, leaning back against the shared wall between David’s chamber and the hall. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as her chest heaved with deep shaking breaths. 

“Shepard,” he said, his voice a mirror for her pain. “Are you okay?” 

She looked at him, her jaw clenched and nostrils flared. “How can I be associating with these monsters, Garrus?” she asked, voice filled with fury that he knew wasn’t aimed at him. “First Pragia; now this. The Cerberus horrorshow just gets worse and worse.”

“Yeah, I know,” Garrus said heavily. He’d felt this coming: the breaking point when Shepard would not be able to stomach the necessary alliance. And he knew what she needed from him. “The Illusive man has a lot of pain and death to answer for…. But none of this is on you. Whatever twisted schemes Cerberus in general is up to, Project Lazarus hasn't crossed any moral lines.”

“Can we really be sure? Who knows what sick experiments, suffering, and death paved the way to bringing me back…. Nothing is worth this,” she said, looking toward the door to David’s chamber.

He closed his eyes, unwilling to grant that any cost was too high if it meant having her back in the Galaxy. “Shepard…”

She shook her head. “I know. It's not like I had a choice. But, it turns my stomach to think I'm the beneficiary of things like this, that by working with them, by just breathing with the lungs they built for me, I'm complicit.”

He took a step toward her. “You're using their resources and their intel to achieve a shared objective,” he said with gentle firmness. “That's it…. You're not part of their organization, and you're not enriching them. Hell, if they weren't spending so many credits on you and your mission, they'd be able to fund even more evil projects.”

“Ha, I guess that's a silver lining,” she mumbled.

He closed the remaining distance between them, and spoke low, the words she needed to hear: “When the time inevitably comes that the Illusive Man tries to force you to cross a hard moral line, I have a bullet or ten with his name on them.... But until then, you're doing a hell of a lot of good by playing nice. You've already saved a lot of people, myself included... Tali, Kaidan, David… just to name a few… and you'll save a lot more when we take down the collectors.”

“That's what I keep telling myself,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “But after so many repetitions, it's starting to sound hollow.”

“It's the truth. We can't afford to be choosy about our allies right now. But I have complete faith that you'll stay true to your ideals and mission, no matter what.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You are incorruptible, Shepard. That's part of why I love… working so closely with you.”

Shepard flushed and a smile softened her face. “The things you say…” she said tenderly, catching his full meaning.

A nervous fluttering feeling hummed through Garrus. He peeked through the door to see Tali occupied with scanning a dead Geth; she’d be busy for a while, so he directed his attention back to Shepard. “Would it be too egregious a breach of protocol if I… held your hand right now?” he asked her.

Shepard raised her eyebrows and stepped away from the wall before grabbing him by the collar of his armor and pulling him close so his body was pressed to hers. “One perk of working for an organization that I hold in complete contempt is I don't have to give a damn about protocol.”

He wrapped his arms around her, hands caressing the small of her back. Shepard raised herself onto the balls of her feet, and he bent his head forward to meet her. Her lips parted, and her eyes closed as she pressed her mouth to his in a slow, tender kiss. He teased the edge of her lips with the tip of his tongue, appreciating the warmth and wetness of this very alien expression of affection. As they kissed, Shepard’s biotics glowed, dark energy curling against Garrus’ tongue and mouth, concretizing the pull he felt to her with a pulse that fell into sync with his own heartbeat. A soft moan escaped him as Shepard sank back down to her heels, severing the kiss. She smiled at him, and despite everything around them, Garrus felt blissfully happy.

“I’m beginning to think lips are overrated,” she said, wrapping her arms around his hips, looking up at him with bright eyes.

He laughed and lifted his hand to lovingly fondle the curls at the nape of her neck. “Funny, I was just thinking that they’re underrated.”

“I guess we strike a good balance, then,” she teased.

Garrus stroked her cheek, marveling at his incredible luck that the woman he had loved for so long was alive and with him. “For all the evil Cerberus does,” he said softly. “I'll never stop being grateful that they brought you back…The galaxy was a cold, dark place without you, Shepard.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t up for debate. Shepard had made that much clear in the staff meeting. She was going to Aratoht. Alone. No contact. And the Normandy was to wait for her on the edge of the Bahak system, outside of sensor range, outside of comm range. If she needed backup she’d have to access a long range communication relay. To say this all made Garrus uneasy would have been an understatement.

“Shepard… Are you sure about this?” he asked, standing behind Shepard’s seat while she did a systems check of her shuttle. 

“I'm sure,” she said casually. “I'll be fine.”

He shook his head. “You don't know that. After everything that happened at Atlas station…” He trailed off remembering the ice cold terror that had gripped him as he’d tried frantically to reach her.

“That all turned out,” she reminded him.

“Sure,” he said, mimicking her levity. “Unless you count the years that worrying about you took off my life.”

She swiveled in the pilot’s chair and snapped her fingers. “Ah right, I should have told Hackett that I can’t do the Aratoht mission because my boyfriend might worry about me. I’m sure he would have been very understanding.”

He laughed with an edge. “You think you’re going to distract me from this by calling me your boyfriend? Think again.”

“It was worth a shot,” she said with a grin. She stood up and wrapped her arms around him. “And it does have a nice sound to it, doesn’t it? Garrus Vakarian is my boyfriend… . My boyfriend is such a worrier…. I’ll be back before my boyfriend even notices I’m gone…. I sure hope my boyfriend kisses me goodbye.”

He did like the sound of it. A lot. But he would not be detered. “Let me come with you,” he said, on the cusp of begging. “I'll stay out of sight, up high. Just to cover you.”

She sighed and shook her head, releasing her hold on him. “It's not the right theater for that kind of combat, Garrus. A single operative with stealth and mobility is the way to go.”

“And what if you get captured?” he asked hotly. “These are Batarians , Shepard.”

She fixed him with a withering glare. “Believe me, I know,” she replied grimly.

He rubbed the back of his head. Of course she knew. “Right. Sorry…. I’d just feel a lot better if we had some contingency plans for if things go sideways.”

“There don’t need to be contingency plans,” she said, voice prickling with irritation. “If I stay out of contact for longer than expected, you assume I’m either adapting to unforeseen circumstances or I’m dead…. If I’m out of contact for more than a few days, it’s probably safe to assume that I’m not coming back.”

He braced himself against the back of the pilot’s seat. “That’s it, huh? I’m supposed to just leave you for dead?”

She sighed heavily. “You won’t have to make the call. I wouldn’t put that on you…. I’m leaving it up to Miranda to decide when it’s time to leave the system.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, shaking his head. “Shepard… leaving you for dead once hurt like hell. It nearly broke me. But doing it twice ?” He exhaled sharply and hung his head as the pain of what she was asking of him took hold.

Shepard moved to the side of the chair, facing him. “Hey,” she said, her voice warm and calming. She put her hand on the side of his face and turned him gently to meet her softly smiling face. “I appreciate that you care, Garrus. That you're worried about me. It's sweet…. But this…” she said, tapping the N7 insignia on her armor, “is what I'm trained for. And I'm really, really good at it.”

She was. But everyone had their limits. Even Shepard. Still, her confidence was well earned, and it was clear he wasn’t going to sway her from her course. “You’re sure about this?” he asked again. “You’re going to come back alive?”

She smiled, tracing his jawline with the side of her finger. “I always do, don’t I?”  

He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her. There was so much he wanted to say, but he refused to pour his heart out in a deathbed farewell. He needed to believe that he’d have many more chances to tell her how much she meant to him. So he sighed and kissed her goodbye. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Chapter Text

If there was one thing every turian knew, it was how to follow orders. And Shepard’s orders had been indisputable: no interference. But, as hours turned to days, still with no word from Shepard, Garrus’ ingrained respect for the chain of command was tested against his more personal determination that he keep Shepard in one piece.

It was clear that something had gone wrong. A mission that was supposed to take a few hours had stretched into two days, and now two days were creeping toward three. He tried not to think of what the Batarians would do if they’d captured the Hero of Elysium, of how it would break Shepard to have the abuses and trauma of her childhood revisited upon her on Aratoht. But the thoughts intruded again and again, until Garrus could barely think of anything else.

As time passed another fear pushed its way to the foreground of Garrus’ mind: how long would Cerberus be willing to wait for Shepard? Shepard had left the decision in Miranda’s hands. And while Garrus trusted that Miranda recognized the importance of Shepard to the success of their primary mission, (why else would Cerberus have invested so much time and resources into bringing Shepard back?) he also knew that the longer they waited with no contact from Shepard, the likelihood of Cerberus cutting their losses increased. They’d eventually leave Shepard for dead.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not again. If Miranda made the call, he’d do everything he could to prevent the ship from leaving. But EDI made mutiny impossible. The AI was shackled to Cerberus’ directives, and would be bound to prevent any efforts on his part to take the ship out of their control. Even taking a shuttle would be impossible to do with EDI standing in his way. And he doubted that any ordinance that was sufficient to blow up the AI processor would leave the ship intact.

So he was left with a task that might prove just as impossible: appealing to Miranda’s better nature. He’d seen her on Illium with her sister; for all her severity, she was not heartless. And what was more, she’d felt the same fire in Shepard that turned everyone into a believer sooner or later. But whether or not Shepard’s inspiration held more sway over Miranda than her loyalty to Cerberus remained to be tested.

“Mister Vakarian,” Miranda said pleasantly when Garrus walked through the doors of her office. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to know,” he said leaning forward against her desk. “What do you plan to do about Shepard? She’s been out of contact for more than two days. So when are we going to do something about it?”

“Shepard’s orders stand,” she said simply. “No interference. For now, we operate on the assumption that Shepard is adapting to unexpected circumstances and will contact us when she's able.”

“Unexpected circumstances,” Garrus said, shaking his head. “And how long is that going to be sufficient to keep us in the system? I know eventually you’re going to make the call to abandon Shepard. So what’s our countdown here? A day? A week?”

She considered him thoughtfully. “My instructions from the Illusive Man were to supersede Shepard’s orders and mount a rescue attempt after 24 hours.”

Garrus gaped at her. “What? Then why are we still sitting on our damn asses? Let’s get her off Aratoht!” The thought of finally being able to do something thrilled through him. He’d even forgive Cerberus for going against Shepard’s orders if it meant getting her out.

“That’s no longer an option,” Miranda said evenly. “Shepard isn’t on Aratoht.”

Garrus straightened up. “What do you mean she’s not on Aratoht? Where the hell is she?”

“Cerberus intel intercepted communication from Aratoht, reporting the escape of a human prisoner with the aid of an unknown human operative matching the description of Commander Shepard two days ago. They left the planet on a stolen Kodiak.” A shadow of a smile turned the corner of Miranda’s lips. “Apparently Shepard left quite the bodycount.”

Garrus staggered back. “You’ve known for two days that Shepard got off the planet?” he asked hotly. “Why the hell am I only hearing about this now?”

“It’s Cerberus protocol that operatives be given mission details only on a need-to-know basis.”

Garrus swallowed his anger, moving on to the more significant revelation. “If Shepard got Kenson out, she should have made contact by now. Where did they take the shuttle?”

“We don’t know,” Miranda said frankly. “The Batarians didn’t report that they’d shot the shuttle down or recaptured the prisoners. Though it’s possible they classified her capture after realizing who they had…. More optimistically, the Commander might have had to simply change the parameters of the mission…. In any event, the changing circumstances take the question of whether or not to rescue Shepard entirely off the table.”

Garrus sat heavily in a nearby chair. This did change things. “How long is Cerberus prepared to wait for Shepard?” he asked, his voice grave.

For a moment, something like sadness crossed Miranda’s face. “My orders are to give Shepard six more hours to make contact. If we haven’t heard from her by then, we’ll set up a communication relay to boost her signal in the event she tries to contact us after we leave the system, but the primary mission has to take priority.”

Panic hit him. Six hours . “We can’t do the primary mission without Shepard,” he said, knowing that Lawson and the Illusive Man didn’t have a prayer of commanding the same loyalty Shepard did. “You think the squad Shepard built will stick around if she isn’t here?”

She laughed mirthlessly. “Jack would be out the door the second we docked somewhere with a breathable atmosphere. But the rest of you understand that what we’re doing matters. You’ll see the mission through, with or without the Commander.” Again a fleeting sadness in her eyes. “You know it’s what Shepard would want.”

It was a familiar refrain, and he hated it as much now as he did years ago. “Yeah, well I know from experience that ‘what Shepard would want’ doesn’t take us very damn far if she’s not around to back it up.” He looked Miranda in the eyes, searching for those tiny indications that she might not just be a soulless Cerberus minion. “Don’t follow those orders, Miranda,” he said pleading with whatever goodness there might be in her. “You have to give her more time.”

Miranda shook her head. “With all due respect, Mister Vakarian, you’re letting your feelings for Shepard get in the way of your better judgment. We can’t wait here indefinitely while the Collectors continue to abduct colonies. Shepard knew that when she decided to do this mission against my recommendation.” 

“Shepard helped you save your sister,” he said leaning forward. “You owe it to her to stay for more than six hours. Or, hell, stay because you know you put two years of your life and a hell of a lot of resources into bringing Shepard back for a damn good reason.”

Miranda frowned. “If we knew where she might have gone after leaving Aratoht, things would be different.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Garrus. But we have to face the reality that Shepard isn’t likely coming back.”

“Then let me stay,” he said, standing up and slapping his hands on the cold surface of Miranda’s desk. “Give me a shuttle, and I’ll wait for Shepard to make contact.”

“Garrus, that isn’t--”

EDI cut her off: “Operative Lawson, we have received an urgent message from Commander Shepard, seeking emergency evacuation from a base on an asteroid on a direct course for the Alpha relay.” Garrus felt the hum of the ship’s engines coming to life. “Setting a course for the asteroid now.”

Garrus sprinted to the elevator without another word. His legs felt immaterial beneath him. Shepard was alive. Shepard had made contact. Shepard would soon be on the ship.

Chapter Text

Garrus stood at the open side hatch as the Normandy pulled up to Shepard’s position. She took a running leap for the hatch. He noticed immediately that something was off. Her gate as she ran seemed unsteady, and she had to put biotics behind her leap to get enough power to launch herself to the ship. Even then, if he hadn’t been there to catch her forearm, she wouldn’t have had the necessary footing to land the jump. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, steadying her.

Shepard didn’t stop to reply. As soon as her feet were securely beneath her she took off for the cockpit, almost tripping as she cleared the lip of the bulkhead. She grabbed the back of Joker’s chair and shouted: “Get us out of the system! Through the relay! Now!”

Garrus stood behind her, tense as Joker deftly piloted the ship around the asteroid and through the relay seconds before the asteroid was on course to collide. “Shit, Commander,” Joker said, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. “Cutting things a little close don’t you think?”

Shepard patted Joker’s shoulder. “Good work, Lieutenant,” she said, her voice weak and winded. She turned toward the CIC, her shoulders slumped, took a couple steps and nearly fell as her knees buckled. 

Garrus caught her underneath her elbow. “Shepard!” he said in alarm. “Are you alright?”

Even with his support, she struggled to lift herself to an upright posture. “I… don’t think so,” she said as she tried to take another step, only to cry out in pain as her knees buckled again.

Again Garrus caught her. “I’ve got you,” he said, hoisting her into his arms and walking at a clip toward the elevators. “EDI, tell Doctor Chakwas I’m on my way with Shepard. She’s hurt.”

“Acknowledged,” EDI replied, the unflappable quality of her voice in jarring opposition to the inner turbulence he felt.

As they took the elevator, he looked down at Shepard’s face nestled against him. She was in a bad state. Blood both fresh and dried was matted in her hair, and she was sporting a bad bruise across her jaw, likely from a collision with the butt of a rifle. In contrast to the red blood and purple bruise, her skin had the ashen color of death. He jostled her slightly. “You still with me, Shepard?” he asked, his voice grating with fear.

She murmured something he couldn’t make out.

The elevator stopped at the crew deck and he ran Shepard past the mess hall and into the medbay.

Doctor Chakwas was ready for them. “Put her down there, Garrus,” she said, indicating the biobed next to her as she tinted the windows to prevent the gathering crew members from seeing in. 

Garrus placed Shepard down on the bed and closed his eyes, gutted by the way her head lulled to the side as she moaned weakly in pain.

Doctor Chakwas pulled the medical scanner armature over Shepard and smiled as she began her examination. “Commander, am I ever glad to see you!” she said brightly.

“I don't know how she got out of there,” Garrus said, subvocals scraping like gravel underneath. “She can barely walk or hold her head up.”

Doctor Chakwas snapped her fingers in front of Shepard’s face. “Shepard, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”

“Normandy,” Shepard mumbled.

The Doctor checked her scans. “Looks like you have a nasty concussion… a skull fracture… a jaw fracture… three broken ribs… minor trauma to your spine… more gunshot wounds than I care to count... blood loss… a truly staggering medigel overdose... and you're swimming in enough sedatives to knock out a Krogan.” She lifted the scanning armature and stared baffled at Shepard. “What on earth happened out there?”

Shepard strained trying to sit up. “Gotta…” she said and grunted in pain. “Gotta get out of the system.”

Garrus put his hands on both of her shoulders to gently hold her down. “It's done, Shepard. Remember? We've already jumped. Just take it easy. Everything is going to be okay.”

Shepard relaxed under his hands. “Nothing is okay,” she said in a shaking voice, just before her tearful eyes rolled back and she went limp.

“Sh-- Shepard?” he stammered, tightening his grip on her shoulders

“It's okay, Garrus,” Doctor Chakwas said with a comforting hand on his forearm. “She just lost consciousness. Adrenaline, medigel, and force of will can only take you so far.”

He let out a relieved sigh and released Shepard’s shoulders. “Is she going to be okay?” he asked cautiously as Doctor Chakwas began removing Shepard’s armor.

“She's in bad shape. The combination of sedatives and a medigel overdose put a strain on her heart, and I imagine if her cardiovascular system wasn’t largely artificial she wouldn’t have made it off the asteroid.” She turned to look at Garrus who tensely waited for Doctor Chakwas to finish her prognosis. “I’ll need to keep monitoring her for a few days, but I’m optimistic that she’ll make a full recovery. ”

Garrus collapsed back into a chair as the fear and tension that had gripped him for the past three days abandoned him in a rush that left him shaken and weak. “Spirits,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

“Are you alright?” Doctor Chakwas asked.

He removed his hands from his face and looked at Shepard. Her armor was off now, and the Doctor had begun to attach sensors to her chest and head. She looked so damn small and vulnerable. “I’ve never actually seen her like this,” he said, voice almost too drained of energy to speak. “I mean, I’ve seen her take bad hits, but nothing a little medigel couldn’t fix.” 

A small smile appeared on Doctor Chakwas’ face. “You know, Shepard said something very similar when she carried you in here half dead a few months ago.”

“Shepard carried me?” he asked, chuckling at the mental picture. He had to have more than a quarter meter on the Commander, and in full weapons and armor he probably came close to doubling her weight.

“Well,” she said with a little shrug, “she might have used biotics to cheat a little. Still, she cut a very gallant image…. Not that I need to tell you that.”

Garrus snorted. “I guess at this point the whole ship knows about me and Shepard?”

“If you were hoping to be discreet, I’d suggest fewer longing looks and late night visits to the captain’s cabin,” she said with a smirk as she lowered a surgical apparatus over Shepard.

As the Doctor prepared to begin surgery, Garrus expected her to ask him to leave. But she didn’t. She seemed to readily accept the fact that Garrus belonged by Shepard’s side without the need for him to make a case for it. He was relieved. After nearly three days of worrying about her, he wasn’t ready for Shepard to leave his sight. Not for a minute.

Still, without the fear and adrenaline pumping through his system, exhaustion from three sleepless nights took hold. As he watched Doctor Chakwas skillfully knitting bone and tissue, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Garrus woke with a start to the sound of the medbay door opening. Miranda stood just inside. Garrus turned immediately to check on Shepard. Surgery was complete, and she was sleeping peacefully, the monitors beeping steadily to the rhythm of her heart. He relaxed as he reminded himself that Shepard was going to be okay.

“How is she?” Miranda asked Doctor Chakwas, who was sitting at her desk.

“The surgeries went well,” Doctor Chakwas said, turning in her chair to face Miranda. “But she’ll need time to recover.”

“How much time?”

“With any other patient I’d say a couple of weeks at least. But knowing Shepard, she’ll probably be in fighting form within a few days.”

Miranda released a relieved exhale. “Good…. Can you wake her?”

Doctor Chakwas folded her arms. “I can, but I won’t.”

Miranda tensed. “Doctor, I need to know what happened in the Bahak system. Shepard may well have started a damn war.”

Garrus straightened up in his seat. In all his concern for Shepard, he’d forgotten that the asteroid was on course for collision with the Alpha relay. “What exactly happened when the asteroid hit the relay?” he asked. He’d never heard of a mass relay being damaged, but then he’d never heard of an asteroid of that size colliding with one before.

Miranda looked at him. “It set off a mass field explosion.”

His eyes widened. “What’s the fallout from something like that? I assume it destroyed the relay, and that’s what the Batarians are mad about?”

Miranda’s nostrils flared. “It destroyed the entire system.”

Garrus rose to his feet in a shocked daze. “It… what?”

“The Bahak system is gone. We estimate Batarian casualties exceed 300,000.”

His stomach clenched, and his eyes darted to Shepard, then back to Miranda. “And you think Shepard is to blame?” he asked in disbelief. He shook his head. “There’s no way. She was probably trying to stop the collision and ran out of time.” That had to be it.

“That’s what I need to find out. The Batarians are already calling it an act of genocide. And a partial transmission from Shepard to the colony on Aratoht puts her at the scene.”

Garrus felt ill. The Batarians would want blood. Shepard’s blood. “She isn’t responsible for this,” he said with certainty. But he already knew that whether she was responsible or not, Shepard would blame herself for not preventing the deaths of 300,000 civilians. It would eat her up.

Doctor Chakwas nodded. “I quite agree with Garrus. But regardless, you and the Batarians will have to wait; my priority is my patient. And what she needs right now is rest.”

Miranda narrowed her eyes as she stared at the doctor as though she was considering whether or not to push the point. But Chakwas won the silent battle of wills. Miranda shook her head. “Very well, Doctor,” she said stiffly. “Please notify me when Shepard is ready to be debriefed.”

 Shepard grunted and rolled over, snapping Garrus’ attention to her. She cringed against the light. “Doctor?” Garrus called out. “I think she’s waking up?”

“So I see!” Doctor Chakwas replied, walking to Shepard’s beside as the Commander opened her eyes. “How do you feel, Commander?”

Shepard strained and winced as she began to sit up. 

“Easy , Shepard,” Garrus said as he put a steadying hand on her arm to help her sit up without too much effort.

“I’m fine,” Shepard said in a pained voice. “Just a little stiff.” She clutched her ribs. “Ugh, and everything hurts.”

“I can imagine,” Chakwas said, as she reviewed Shepard’s bio readouts. “Well, you're not fully mended just yet, so stay put. But if you'd like to visit with Garrus for a while, I'll be just outside getting a bite to eat.” She turned to leave, but stopped at the door smirking. “Nothing too vigorous, now, you two. The sedatives and medi-gel in your system put a strain on your heart, and I don't want to have my lunch interrupted by a cardiac event.”

Shepard saluted weakly. “Aye, aye, ma'am.” 

Garrus watched Chakwas leave. “Does she seriously think we’d… Here? Now?”

Shepard grinned. “She’s just teasing us, big guy.”

He sat down next to her on the bed, and his chest and neck warmed with a happy glow. “Do you suppose a kiss would be safe?” he asked

“I’m willing to risk it if you are,” she said, looking up at him.

He bent toward her and caressed her face as he brought his mouth to hers for a soft kiss before nuzzling into her hair. “It’s damn good to see you awake, Shepard,” he said. “I hope you recognize the hell you put me through these last few days.” 

“Believe me,” Shepard grumbled, “I wasn’t exactly having a picnic myself…. How long was I out?”

“Fifteen hours.” He  shook his head. “With the beating you took, I don't know how you got out of there alive.”

Shepard frowned. “It was close, Garrus,” she said gravely. “Damn close.”

“Yeah.”

She looked up at him with pinched brows. “What happened to the Aratoht system?”

“Gone,” he said with a sympathetic sigh. “The collision caused an explosion, wiping out the entire system. I’m sorry.”

Shepard looked down at the floor and nodded.

“I’m sure you did everything you could to stop the asteroid, Shepard,” he said, taking her hand in his. “But Cerberus, the Alliance, the Council, and the Hegemony are all looking for answers. Can you tell me what happened out there?”

“It was a mess, Garrus,” she said, biting her lower lip. “But it was almost much, much worse.”

Chapter Text

Garrus waited in the mess hall while Hackett debriefed Shepard in the medbay. It had been two days since they’d left the Bahak system, and already the entire galaxy was abuzz with speculation about it, and the Alliance wanted answers from her. Despite Shepard’s involvement in the whole mess being entirely of Hackett’s making, the admiral had looked angry rather than concerned when he’d asked Garrus to give them the room.

Garrus knew that Shepard blamed herself enough for the deaths on Aratoht without Hackett piling on. If anyone should be blamed it was the Admiral himself. It was, after all, his team of scientists who’d failed to protect themselves against indoctrination. It was his decision to send a lone operative to Aratoht instead of a team. And it was his “favor” that had almost gotten Shepard killed.

Whatever Hackett had had to say to Shepard, it didn’t take long. A few minutes after he had arrived, he was leaving again, far less angry and far more grim than when he’d entered. He paused briefly to nod at Garrus before walking to the elevator.

Garrus returned to the medbay to find Shepard sitting slumped forward on the biobed, looking flushed and upset. “Hey,” she said upon seeing him.

“Meeting with Hackett didn't go well, I take it?” he asked, walking toward her.

“About as well as I could reasonably have hoped for, I suppose,” she said. “The Alliance is going to let me take the fall for this.”

Garrus sat down next to her. He stared at her dumbfounded, not quite able to wrap his mind around what she’d just said. “They're... what?” 

She shrugged, staring at the floor. “I get it. The Hegemony would start a war if they thought they could justify blaming the relay explosion on the Alliance. And avoiding war with the Batarians matters more than… one soldier.”

Garrus put his hand on her thigh. “Depends on who you ask. I personally rank that one soldier pretty damn high on my list of things that matter.”

A small, sad smile turned the corners of her lips.

“This is why Hackett asked you to do the mission, isn’t it?” Garrus asked as the realization hit him fully. “This wasn’t because he thought only you could do it. It was because he needed someone who wasn’t technically in the Alliance to take the fall if things went sideways.”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” she said

Garrus’ talons closed on the biobed mattress. “For the record, I really hate Hackett, now.”

“Fair,” she said with a snort. “Though, to his credit, he had no way of knowing exactly how sideways things would go.”

“What exactly is Hackett and the Alliance expecting of you?” he asked, afraid of her answer.

She took a deep breath. “I can finish the mission. Then I'll return to Earth to stand trial…. I imagine extradition will be on the table. I'm sure that's what the Batarians will want.”

“Well,” he said, staring ahead as her words settled on him painfully. “That's not happening.” He tried to keep his tone light, even as he seethed.

Shepard shook her head. “My actions killed over 300,000 Batarians. It's understandable that they want explanations… and blood.”

Garrus lifted her chin with a hooked finger, turning her to look into his eyes. “Your actions saved 300,000 Batarians and the rest of the galaxy from being turned into husks or collectors or some other kind of abomination in the next wave of a Reaper invasion. Don't ever forget that.”

She stood up and walked a few paces from him. “Or delayed it, anyway.” She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Hackett's not wrong, though. War with the Batarians would only hurt our chances of being prepared for the Reapers. That has to take priority over me.”

He stood. “ You are the galaxy's best chance of fighting the Reapers,” he said, anger and protectiveness getting the better of him. “And if the Alliance or Batarians or the Council don't see that, then I say we don't give them the chance to exercise their bad judgment.”

She looked over her shoulder at him with a bemused expression. “You want me to run?”

“Hell yeah, I do. We finish our mission and keep right on fighting. Let the Batarians and Alliance chase our tail lights while we save the whole damn galaxy... Again. Spirits know none of them are doing a thing about the Reapers.”

She turned toward him and crossed her arms. “That’s not very turian of you, babe,” she said with a smirk. “Aren’t the needs of the collective supposed to outweigh the concerns of the individual?”

“What can I say? When it comes to you, I’m an incorrigible individualist,” he said with a laugh as he closed the remaining distance between them. “So how about it, Shepard? Run away with me?” He knew she’d never say yes, but it was nice to imagine, if only for a moment.  

“Tempting,” she said heavily. “But it's not how we win this thing. You know that. We need a galaxy prepared and united against the Reapers, not a fractured galaxy at war, too preoccupied with infighting to notice the Reapers pulling up.” She shook her head. “Garrus... I have to take responsibility for Aratoht and face the verdict.” 

Again he felt a flash of anger, at the Hegemony, at Hackett, at the Alliance, and even at Shepard. “Even if that means spending the rest of your life being tortured by Batarians in a death camp?” he snapped. Just saying the words threatened to unravel him. “I can't let that happen to you.”

“Believe me, I'm hoping for a better outcome than that,” she said flatly. “But if that's the way this shakes out…”

“No,” he said, taking hold of her upper arms as he was struck hard with the familiar fear of losing her. “I mean it, Shepard. I won't let that happen. Going to Earth to stand trial is your choice. Breaking you out of a Batarian prison is mine.”

Shepard looked up at him and smirked. “Okay… on the record, I absolutely disapprove of you storming a Batarian prison to spring me, potentially starting a war that could indirectly lead to galactic genocide when the Reapers arrive…. But off the record…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and bit her lower lip. “It's kind of sexy.”

“Good to know,” he said before bending his head for a kiss. 

Chapter Text

“Mmmm. That was really nice.” Garrus said as Shepard’s lips parted from him and she leaned sideways into the back of the couch, still facing him. Her biotics gave her a subtle blue glow.

“Yeah it was,” she said with a bigger smile than he’d seen from her for weeks. “You have no idea how much I want you to pop my heat sink right now.”

He caressed her thigh and laughed. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea, Shepard. You're really testing my resolve to wait.” 

“Not for much longer, now,” she said, tracing her fingers up and down the musculature of his neck. “Once EDI has finished those IFF tests, we'll be on our way to the mouth of hell, burning off steam together before that final push.” A hint of sadness clouded the brilliance of her smile. “Assuming of course that you still want to go through with it.”

He snorted. “You're joking, right?” He was reasonably sure that he’d never wanted anything or anyone more that he wanted Shepard.

She shrugged. “Well, with this business with the Batarians…. It's not like we'll be sailing into the sunset together after the Collectors are taken care of, even if we both survive the mission.”

“Shepard,” he said brushing her cheek with the side of his finger, “when I imagined what a relationship with you would be like, I absolutely expected more bullets, suicide missions, Reapers and Batarians than sunsets. I do have a pretty good idea of who exactly I'm involved with here, you know.”

She laughed.

“Not that I'd mind the odd sunset if we could fit it in.” Someday .

“No reservations?” she pressed.

He slipped his hand to the back of her neck and drew her in, pressing his forehead to hers. “Not a damn one.”

Roses bloomed on her cheeks as she looked into his eyes. “I'm really glad to hear it. Because I believe I'm well on my way to falling for you, Garrus Vakarian.”

His mandibles flared and his stomach swooped with that familiar feeling. “Good,” he said in as cool a voice as he could manage. “You have some catching up to do there, Shepard.”

She swung her leg over him to straddle his lap and nuzzled into his neck. She gently nibbled her way from the well of his throat to the erogenous zone beneath his ear. It seemed like Shepard had been doing some research into alien anatomy herself.

He moaned softly and laughed. “You're killing me here.” He wanted her so damn much.

Shepard abruptly stood up and backed away from him, grinning playfully. “I'm going to hop in the shower.”

“Oh!” Garrus said, a little surprised by the abrupt shift from nuzzling to hygiene. "Uh... alright."

She began walking toward the stairs, unfastening her shirt. “I wouldn't mind some company,” she said, tossing her shirt to the floor.”

Company. She was really ramping up the temptation tonight. “Shepard,” he teased. “You're not playing fair.”

Shepard removed her bra, tossing it to the ground, and looked over her bare shoulder at him. “We may not be blowing off steam tonight, Garrus. But wouldn't you kind of like to see what you'll be working with when the time comes?” She turned to face him, hands cupped over her breasts. “I’m a much more fun study aid than an anatomy diagram, don’t you think? So how about some hands-on learning, big guy?”

Shepard always did know how to argue a point. Garrus attempted to steady his breathing and the buzzing nerves that tickled through him. He stood up from the couch and followed her up the stairs as if under the pull of her personal gravitational field.

He was grateful that she finished disrobing herself casually, as though she was on her own, just getting ready for the shower like she did every day. It took some pressure off of him as he began to follow suit, removing his gloves and shirt. But as he began to remove his pants, he paused and looked at her, already naked in front of him. “You… uh… you know what to expect, right?” he asked her, nervously. “You know that I’m not… built like a mammal?”

She smiled warmly and walked up to him, placing her hands on the waistband of his pants. “You don’t have to worry about anything, Garrus,” she said, easing his pants down over his hips. “I know. I’ve never been picky about particular anatomy with human sexual partners, and this is no different. What you have and don’t have is all fine with me.”

“Okay,” he said and exhaled shakily as he finished removing his pants.

Shepard put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. “Not bad at all, Vakarian,” she said, lifting her eyebrows.

“Not so bad yourself, Shepard,” he teased back as he took in the alien softness of her curves. She seemed somehow more naked than naked without the chitinous plates of an exoskeleton. It was almost alarming how vulnerable it made her look, and he feared for a moment that she might bruise like a peach under his calloused hands.

But Shepard didn’t show any concern as she pressed her body against him, placing her hands behind his hips as she walked backward, drawing him along with her into the shower. The effect of the water cascading over her mammalian hair and skin was striking. His eyes followed the water’s pathway as it streamed along her clavicle to the well of her throat, down the curves of her breasts, made rivulets through the musculature of her abdomen, smoothed the whirls of her hair, and trickled down her thighs.

She was right: neither vids nor anatomical diagrams could begin to do justice to the sensation of being just a breath away from the love of his life. And in another moment he was less than a breath away as Shepard pulled him even closer, pressing her belly into his pelvis. He caressed her back, enjoying the slick feel of her skin as his hands slid over the groves of her vertebrae. Meanwhile, her tongue and lips explored the various textures of his chest, slipping from exoskeletal plate, to skin, to plate. 

The warmth of her against him and the enveloping hum of her biotics, brought his cloaca to a swell. And suddenly his plan to wait for some golden moment in the calm before the storm evaporated like the steam that rose around them in a hazy mist. He loved her, and she, against all odds, was falling for him. Garrus was sure of their connection, that they had a real shot at something lasting. That was all he needed.

He hoisted Shepard up by her thighs onto his hips, making her squeal in surprise. His breath came slow, shaky, and deep as he braced her against the wall of the shower and pressed his forehead to hers.

But Separd grinned impishly as she slipped off of his hips and ducked under his arm. He turned over his shoulder, bewildered, hands still pressed into the tiles on the wall. Shepard was walking backwards toward the door shaking her head. “Just savoring that last shot, hot stuff,” she said before turning, grabbing a towel, and walking out the door, leaving Garrus breathing heavily as the water poured over him.

Garrus exited the bathroom, toweling off, to find Shepard sitting on the couch in her bathrobe watching him with a wicked smile.

He shook his head as he walked down the stairs. “Paragon, my ass. You're evil.”

She laughed. “What? I thought you wanted me to build anticipation.”

He took a seat next to her. “Well, you're certainly a master at it,” he said, tousling her wet hair. “I had to blast the cold water after you left.”

Her eyes glided down his still naked body. “I had to take a few deep breaths to cool off myself,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “So, is it safe to say we have attraction covered?”

“Definitely.” Garrus considered her, reflecting on the experience of this first foray into alien territory. “Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Anything,” she responded as she absently slid her fingertips up and down his thigh, exciting a pathway of nerve endings.

“When we get… physical… you sometimes... glow.”

She laughed. “Uh huh… That would be dark energy from my biotics.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right, I know that much.”

“So what did you want to know, then?”

“I was curious if it's an involuntary reaction to arousal. Or if it's something you do to… enhance the experience.”

“A mix of the two, actually.... When my emotions get revved up, it takes more focus and control to keep my biotics in check. I know how to cool off when I need to or want to. But when you get my motor running, I'd rather let go a bit and just lean into the feelings and sensations of the moment…. Besides, most people enjoy the effect of gently humming biotics.” she lifted her brow curiously. “It doesn't bother you, does it?”

“Not at all. It's pretty damn sexy, honestly.” To put it mildly .

“Just you wait, big guy,” she said, leaning over to give him a smooch. “It's even better in bed.”

Chapter Text

He’d watched Shepard’s face as the transmission from the Normandy came in. Like an echo across time from that day on Virmire. After EDI had explained the situation, Shepard had slumped forward just slightly, like she’d felt the SR-2’s crew added to that cosmic weight she carried on her slender shoulders every day, the ever increasing debt of surviving while others were lost. He’d tried to comfort her, but she’d moved away from him the instant his hand had made contact with her back. Immediately to business, she’d straightened up and set in a return course to the ship, while the rest of the squad sat in a tense silence watching their commander.

The announcement came shortly after they’d returned to the ship: they were setting in course for the Omega relay. Into the mouth of hell. ETA: 3 hours. So he showered, changed into his civilian clothes, and made his way up to Shepard’s cabin. This wasn’t the way he’d pictured it, and he cursed himself for waiting until now. He’d wanted his first time with Shepard to be a golden moment just for them, but the loss of the crew had intruded on that vision, and the likelihood of one or both of them dying in this suicide mission seemed suddenly far more real than it had a day ago. For all his well-researched plans for setting the mood, he knew with deflating certainty that he wouldn’t be able to cut through the gravity of it all. Still, he needed her, and she, despite all her outward strength, needed him. So, he went through the unlocked door of her cabin.

He heard the sound of the shower running and considered entering to complete the scene they had begun two days before. But he decided against it. Whatever heat had come so easily then, wasn’t with him now. He wanted her, but not pinned against the shower wall in a moment of carnal passion. So he waited on the couch while she finished, and tried to think of what to say.

 When she emerged, wet and naked but for a towel wrapped around her, he was still struggling to find the right words. “Hey, handsome,” Shepard said with a brightness that he knew was a performance for his sake.

“Hey,” he said, rising from his seat while she descended the stairs. “I… uh… I had a plan here: music, wine, seduction…. But, after everything with the crew…” He shook his head. “It just doesn't feel right. Too forced…. Too silly.”

“You want to put it off?” Shepard asked, her tone understanding and warm.

“No,” he snorted humorlessly. “With what we’re about to face, this could be our last chance. Our only chance. I want to be here... with you. I just… damn it… I don't know what I'm doing…” He hung his head, feeling defeated. He was making a mess of it.

Shepard closed the remaining distance between them and put a hand over his heart which quickened its rhythm at her touch. “Easy, Garrus,” she said gently. “Everything is fine, just like this. We don't need corny music or cliche seduction. Honestly? I think we're long past that…. I want you here with me.”

He lifted his eyes to see her smiling face.

“Besides, you've had me pretty well seduced for a while, in case you haven't noticed… Just breathe and be with me.”

He wished it was as easy as that. “ I just… I’ve seen so many things go wrong, Shepard . You dying and the Normandy going down, my work at C-Sec, what happened with my squad and Sidonis, and now with the crew being taken.” He took her hands in his. “I need this to go right with you. I've wanted you… loved you… for so damn long... you don't even know. If I screw this up or lose you… I… I can’t…” He closed his eyes as his quivering voice gave out.

Shepard placed her hand on the side of his face. “Shhhh… You’re not going to screw anything up.”

He shook his head. “Shepard, if this doesn’t work between us tonight…”

She put a finger to his mouth to hush him. “If it doesn’t work tonight, we’ll try again,” she said in a steady voice. “There is nothing at stake here, Garrus. As far as I’m concerned, attraction and emotional connection are the crucial pieces, and we already know we have that down…. So what if the sex isn’t great right out of the gate?” She shrugged. “It just means we’ll have to help each other through the learning curve…. You know… calibrate .”

Garrus’ mandible hung slack. It hadn’t actually occurred to him that Shepard would want to keep trying if things didn’t go well on their first attempt. “You’re… not concerned that we might be incompatible?” he asked.

“Not a bit. What we have is a hell of a lot bigger than one night.”

Her confidence stilled his nerves and lifted the pressure that had felt so crushingly real a minute before. A warm, quiet calm settled on him as he pressed his forehead to hers. And somehow that golden moment he’d wanted for so long formed around them in a hazy glow.

Shepard took his hand in hers and looked into his eyes as she guided him to the bed. As she approached the foot of the bed, she let the towel drop to the floor. At first glance she had seemed all softness to him, but now he took notice of the appealing contrasts of solid bone and the lines of her lean musculature, alongside the gentle curves of her breasts and thighs and the subtle slope of her belly. The fact that he had ever thought her too alien to be attractive was now baffling to him as he watched her drawing him in, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

Once he had finished undressing, he approached her sitting on the edge of the bed, took her hands in his, and kneeled on the floor between her parted knees. “Let’s take it slow,” he said and nuzzled into her warm neck. The scent of her soap-- that particular scent which he had come to associate so wholly with her, evoking both the deadly fragrance of cyanide and the sweet smell of marzipan-- tickled through his sinuses as he pressed his open mouth and nose to her throat, breathing her in. He felt the heat of his own warm breath condense like dew against her skin.

Shepard’s hands explored the horns of his crest then fell to the back of his neck where her fingers worked his muscles in a relaxing palpation, as she drew the tension from him, leaving tingling heat behind. Garrus lifted his head to look into her eyes, the warm grey eyes of his soul mate. Caressing her back, he lowered her gently onto the cool bed. Shepard placed her hands on either side of his face, using her thumbs to tease the nerves beneath his ears. He leaned in and kissed her, softly tonguing the edge of her lips, while his hand followed the curve of her breast to the hard waves of her ribs. Her skin prickled under his touch, and as his hand moved down the angled muscles of her abdomen to the radiant heat of her pelvis, dark energy licked against his skin like a thousand hungry flames.

In Shepard’s company, Garrus lost himself over and over again in a haze of flowing motion and swelling heat, only to repeatedly return to the anchor of her body against his: the touch of her fingers gripping his back; her trembling breath against his neck; the salty taste of her dewy skin on his tongue; the thrumming rhythm of her biotics against his cloaca; and the sound of her voice shaping his name, sometimes whispered into a pillow, sometimes shouted into the expanse of the quiet void above them.

Her name wove through every moment like a silver thread. He hummed it as he kissed his way down her belly. He shaped it with his tongue as she came to him. It trembled through him ecstatically as he came to her. Shepard , whom he had loved always, as his commander, as his friend, as his partner. Shepard , who had chosen him. Shepard , the answer to his soul’s question. His Shepard , no longer beyond his reach, as she collapsed breathlessly laughing onto his chest and into his arms. 

“I'd say that went right,” Shepard said, lifting her head from his chest and smiling. “You really did your research, Vakarian.”

He hugged her close and nuzzled into her hair, beyond happy that he hadn’t in fact made a mess of anything. “Mmm. I was highly motivated. And you… Is there anything you're not good at?”

She grinned and cringed. “Um… Dancing?”

“Uh… well,” he chuckled. “You’ve got me there.”

She laughed and shifted to lie beside him, her head on his arm. “So,” she said happily wriggling under the sheets, “on a scale from ‘horrible interspecies awkwardness thing’ to ‘night to treasure,’ where would you say we landed?”

He pulled her closer to him. “I’d say we broke the scale,” he said with certainty. “Best night of my life.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Worth the wait, then?”

“Definitely.” He reached over and stroked her cheek tenderly, thinking of how long this wait had really been. “Back on the SR-1, I never dreamed we could have this. Even then you meant a hell of a lot to me. But asking for anything other than friendship from you just seemed crazy.” 

She booped his nose playfully. “Then I guess we're lucky I'm crazy enough to make up for your sobering sanity.”

“The luckiest. I can't believe how damn close I came to missing out on you.”

Around him, Garrus felt the subtle lurch and accompanying silence of the Normandy leaving FTL. They both looked up at the overhead window, to see the stars come to a halt. Their golden moment was coming to an end, and dread returned to the pit of Garrus’ stomach.

The smile faded from Shepard’s face as she turned back to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said heavily. “I just…”

EDI’s voice came over the comm: “Commander Shepard, we have arrived at the Omega relay.”

Shepard smiled sadly. “Time to jump into hell for the good of the galaxy?”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. Facing the reality of what was ahead hurt more than he’d expected.

Shepard sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. “EDI?” she said in an authoritative tone. “Tell everyone to make any necessary last minute preparations and get suited up. We’ll go through the relay in one hour.”

“Understood, Commander.”

She began to rise from the bed, but Garrus reached over and grabbed her wrist. She turned to meet his eyes. “Shepard, do me a favor?” he asked.

“Name it,” she said with a grin.

“Stay in one piece out there, okay?” he said, holding his voice steady. “Losing you again… it's not an option.”

She leaned over him and gently stroked the scars on his mouth with her thumb. “We'll get through this,” she said with a confidence and fire that could have made anyone a believer. “ Both of us.” And she gave him one last kiss.

Chapter Text

It was over, and he could breathe again. Shepard, in defiance of the odds Cerberus had calculated, had seen every single member of her crew through to the other side. She was, every day, a marvel. And, while she had always made him damn proud to be part of her crew, he took a special sort of pride in her now. His Shepard had seen them through, and she’d trusted him to be an important piece of that victory; an important piece of her life. By her side, he would face anything. Let the batarians come. Let Cerberus come. Let the damn Reapers come.

Shepard hadn’t stopped moving since their return to the ship. Between checking in with the crew and assessing the extensive damage to the ship, she’d only been able to spare him a passing kiss as she’d rushed by. But after several hours of riding the post-battle adrenaline, Shepard’s energy seemed to be waning. Garrus caught her rubbing her eyes in the cargo bay as she tried to focus on a damage report.

“Shepard,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “You’re exhausted. Don’t you think it’s time to call it a day?”

“There’s still a lot to do,” she said, eyes still fixed on the report.

“You’re past the point of diminishing returns here.” He took the pad out of her hands and set it down on a nearby crate. “Come on. There is nothing for you to do that can’t stand to wait another eight hours.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said with a sigh. “I guess I’m still in crisis mode. Honestly, I doubt I’ll be able to relax enough to sleep even if I try.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Maybe I can help with that,” he purred into her ear. “Some champagne to celebrate a hard won victory… this soothing voice… and me doing whatever you need to help ease any remaining tension.”

She leaned back into him. “You might be underestimating just how much tension I can carry. You’re talking to a champion insomniac, here.”

“I’m game to take on a challenge,” he said and gave her ear an edentulous nibble.

“Mmm,” she hummed as her skin prickled into goosebumps.

“Meet you in your cabin in ten minutes?”

Without a word, she picked up the pad he’d set aside, and resumed her study of the report. But as Garrus released her with a sigh of sullen defeat, a smirk played at the corners of Shepard’s mouth. “Make it twenty?”

A tickly feeling fluttered through him. “You got it.”

When Garrus arrived at Shepard’s quarters, bottle of embarrassingly cheap champagne in hand, he found her on the couch, still working. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” she called to him. “I’ll just be another couple minutes.”

Garrus shook his head as he reached for the glasses she kept on the shelf by her desk. His hand met only air, and his gaze fell to the shattered remnants at his feet. In fact her entire quarters had been tossed by the crash. Broken glass, battle trophies, magazines, and bits of her model ship collection littered the ground. “Uh… we’re down a couple wine glasses, Shepard,” he said, pushing aside the rubble with his foot. “Do you mind sharing from the bottle?”

“I’m not fancy,” she said with a shrug. “Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to clean up the mess.”

“I can lend a hand while you finish up,” he said as he squatted down to retrieve the frame that displayed her old dog tags. He shook the bits of glass from the frame before touching the stamped metal plates reverently.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shepard called out. “I’ll take the broom to it in the morning. It’s clean enough down here.”

He set her dog tags where they belonged on the shelf and walked down the stairs. “Time’s up, Shepard,” he said, taking the pad from her and setting it on the coffee table.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight him on it.

He opened the champagne and sat down next to her, handing the bottle her way.

“You got a toast in mind?” she asked with a smirk as she looked at the bottle.

“Uh, sure,” he said, scrambling to come up with something. “To… uh… saving the galaxy… blowing off steam… and taking a well-earned rest together.”

Shepard bumped her knuckles to the bottle. “Clink!” she said before taking it. She took a swig and cringed slightly as she swallowed.

“How is it?” he asked nervously.

“It’s very… bubbly,” she said with barely suppressed laughter.

He took a cautious sip himself. Not great. “Well… it’s the best I could afford on a vigilante’s salary.”

She chuckled, but her gaze drifted off into the distance.

He set the bottle on the table and glanced at the nearby datapads, knowing that’s where her thoughts were pulling her. “Any estimates on how long the repairs will take?” he asked.

She scratched the back of her head. “Probably a couple weeks. We could do it in less, but after everything the crew’s been through, I don’t want to push them.”

“Just yourself, right?” he said wryly.

She smiled tightly at him. “Once I come down a bit, I’ll happily drag my feet all the way to space-worthy. Hell, I wish I could rationalize a longer repair timeline.”

He knew why, and he felt a pang in his gut at the unwelcome reminder. “We could probably find a few more errands to run,” he said as lightly as he could manage. “I don’t think we ever got around to checking out the Lusarn system.”

She shook her head. “No, with Cerberus on our tail and the Batarians, we’ll be a target as soon as we go back through the relay.”

He nodded, knowing she was right. “So what’s the plan, then?”

“Once the ship is in good enough shape to hold together without the help of kinetic barriers, we’ll spend some time playing taxi, dropping everyone off where they need to be. Then… back to Earth.” She leaned her head back and folded her arms. “I'm hoping handing the Normandy over to the Alliance along with myself might soften some of those treason charges.”

He gaped at her. “You don’t think they’ll actually charge you with treason, do you?”

She winced. “Yeah. It’s on the list.”

“ Shepard , treason is a capital offense,” he said as his stomach twisted into a few more knots. “If they find you guilty…”

“I know,” she said evenly. “To be honest, I’m still more concerned about the possibility of extradition.” Meaning she’d rather be dead than in Batarian custody. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of either. “You're sure about this, Shepard? Going back to earth?”

She leaned forward and braced her forearms against her thighs. “Yeah,” she said, her voice scraping with exhaustion and the weight of what might lie ahead. “I'm not crazy about the idea of standing trial, but It's the right call. Not only could it prevent a war with the Batarians, it’s also a real chance to publicly argue my case that the Reapers are coming.”

He couldn’t bring himself to agree with her that handing herself over was a good idea, but he knew there was no swaying her. “Okay,” he said, leaning forward and taking her hand in his. “If that's the way you want to play this, I'll be right there with you.” Come what may, by her side until the end.

She hung her head. “No, Garrus, you won't,” she said firmly. “Everyone non-Alliance disembarks before we hit Earth.”

“Not a chance,” he said, mirroring the strength of her refusal. He tipped her chin toward him with a hooked finger. “I'm staying with you, Shepard. My choice.”

Looking at him, she seemed to deflate with pain and exhaustion for a moment. She closed her eyes for several seconds, and when she opened them again her conviction had returned, tempered by warmth. She put her hand on his knee and smiled sadly. “Garrus... you don't know how much I appreciate that you want to be there for me... But you can't. Even before the trial, I'll be incarcerated. And I don't see the Alliance or Council permitting me any contact with people connected to Cerberus. No visits. Probably no communication at all.”

“ Shepard ,” he said, raising his voice, refusing to accept her vision of a future in which they’d be separated. “I can't just stand by while you're--”

“You won't be standing by,” she interrupted, holding up her hands. “You'll be on Palaven…”

He shook his head vigorously.

“…doing everything you can to get your people to start preparing for the Reaper invasion,” she continued, nodding. “The Turians have the strongest military fleet in the galaxy. Without your people, we can't win this thing. And I need you to convince them of that.”

Her order gutted him. She needed him, but not at her side. “Damn it,” he muttered, knowing that she was right that the war effort needed the turian fleet. And as he was the only turian who had any knowledge of the imminent Reaper invasion, it had to be him who raised the alarm. “I can’t do it, Shepard,” he said. “No one in the Primacy is going to listen to me.”

“You have to try, Garrus,” she pleaded. “If the Reapers take the turian fleet by surprise and wipe them out before we have a chance to mobilize… we’ll all be finished.”

 He buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by the enormity of what she was asking of him. But it was no more than the weight she’d been carrying since the day he’d met her. And as he sat there grappling with competing impulses, he remembered the silent vow he’d made as the first realization of his feelings for her had stuck him on Virmire: he’d spend the rest of his life trying to lighten her load in whatever way she needed. He’d expected to do that work at her side. But, just as she’d needed him to lead the distraction team on the Collector base, she again was trusting him to be more than her backup. And how could he refuse her when she was already sacrificing so much for the greater good? 

He let his hands drop, and turned to face her. “Do you always have to be so damn noble?” he asked.

Shepard smiled on the cusp of tears and caressed his face. “Believe me, you're not making it easy.”

He sighed, fearing what might come next, but needing to know. “So what does this mean for us?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “I don’t think the Alliance would approve the odd conjugal visit?” 

Shepard’s neck and cheeks flushed. “We can make Palaven the last stop on the way to Earth, to give us a little more time together.” She took a deep breath, and he felt the blow before it struck. “But after that, I think it would probably make things easier if we put ‘us’ on hold.” 

He exhaled angrily and turned from her. There it was.

Shepard put her hand on his knee. “At least for a while. No promises. No expectations. Just… moving on with our lives.”

He turned back to her. “Do I get to weigh in here?” he asked, his subvocals grinding like crushed glass beneath his feet.

She bit her lips together and shook her head. “Garrus… even under the best of circumstances, long distance romances are… difficult. And these aren't exactly the best of circumstances.”

“Yeah, well, we're pretty much experts at beating the odds,” he said, hoping she would be swayed by his conviction. “I wouldn't bet against us.”

She flushed a deeper shade of red. “I'm not. I'm just… We don't know how long I'll be incarcerated. Or if we'll ever see each other or even talk to each other again.” She released a slow, shaky exhale. “All I'm saying is it's okay to move on, when and if you want to.”

He knew she thought she was doing this for his sake. Maybe she imagined that she could give him what had been denied Kaidan: closure. But he didn’t want closure.

“If I get out of prison and the galaxy is still in one piece,” she continued, in what she undoubtedly meant to be a kind tone, “we'll touch base... see where we're at… decide if we want to pick up where we left off… or if things have changed.”

Again he thought of Kaidan, and it occurred to him that maybe she was in part trying to protect herself. Letting him go now, so that she wouldn’t have to again suffer the blow she had on Horizon. But he wasn’t Alenko. How could she ever imagine that his feelings for her would be changeable? His love for her had never hinged on an imagined ideal. It hadn’t even hinged on her reciprocation. Death hadn’t dulled it. Nor would this. That she didn’t understand that fact hurt him even more than their impending separation.

He wanted to argue with her, plead with her to change her mind. But looking at her eyes, pink and glassy, he couldn’t find it in himself to make this harder than it already was for her. He sighed. “Alright, Shepard…. But just so we’re clear,” he said, fondling the tendril of hair that curled around her ear, “I'll be keeping the champagne on ice until then. Because moving on from you?” He shook his head. “I don't see that happening.”

She blinked back tears and sniffed. “We still have a few weeks together.”

He nodded and tried to shake off the heartbreak that ached like a boulder on his chest. “I’ll take whatever time we have. Not one damn second for granted.”

Chapter Text

Their few weeks together had passed by too quickly. They’d avoided further discussion of what lay ahead, choosing instead to focus on enjoying one another in the moment. But every moment, no matter how blissfull, had been painfully overshadowed by Garrus’ awareness that each ardent word, each intimate touch, each breathtaking smile edged them closer to goodbye. And as the cargo bay door opened and the hot air of Palaven rushed in to welcome Garrus to his homeland, he could only think that he’d never feel at home, never feel at ease, for as long as he and Shepard were apart.

His hands tightened around hers as he looked down the loading ramp at the transport vehicle that was waiting to take him to the Vakarian family home. In another universe taking Shepard to his planet might have carried a very different meaning. Instead of worrying over reapers, batarians, cerberus, and a tribunal, he would have been fretting over how to break the ice as he introduced her to his parents or how long he ought to wait before broaching the topic of betrothal. Instead of imagining the impending emptiness of his life without her, he’d be happily entertaining daring fantasies of a long future with her, fantasies that now ached like a wound whenever they creeped into his mind.

“So, I guess this is it,” he said wistfully. “For now.”

“Yeah.” Her voice cracked, and her misty eyes threatened to betray her last vestige of stoicism. “I'm gonna miss you like crazy, Garrus.”

“Me too,” he said, putting his everything into giving her a steady voice. “I love you, Shepard... And that's not going to change.”

His words undid her briefly, and a tearful gasp shook through her. “You bastard,” she said with a broad smile, even as a tear rolled down her cheek. “But if it does change… If you decide to move on…. It's okay. I'll understand. More than anything, I just want you to be happy.”

He shook his head. Impossible. “You're sure about going to Earth?” he asked, knowing the answer already. “I have a pretty spacious closet in my bedroom at my parents’ place. I doubt the Batarians or the Reapers would think to look for you there.”

She laughed. “I can think of worse places to wait out the apocalypse.”

He tossed his head toward the open bay. “All you have to do is walk down that ramp with me, jump in a taxi, and never look back.”

She smiled sadly, catching the earnest plea beneath his teasing. “I have to do this.”

He nodded solemnly. He knew. He hated it. But he knew.

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Garrus, I want you to know,” she said in a trembling voice mirrored by the shaking of her hands in his, “having you here with me… as an ally, as a friend, as someone I love… it's meant everything.”

His stomach swooped and crashed at her words. “Someone you love, huh?” he asked, barely able to speak.

She looked into his eyes and nodded as tears began to fall freely.

The lights of the waiting transport vehicle flashed, warning that it would depart without him soon. He sighed heavily. “Time to go.”

“Damn it,” she said angrily. “I wish we had more time.”

He caressed her cheek and brushed a tear away with his thumb. “We will. I promise.” And he believed it, because anything else would have been too much to bear. He pulled her into a close embrace and nuzzled into her hair, breathing in her scent and warmth. They had to have more time.

As he released her, Shepard stepped back from him, looking down at the floor between them. “Take care, Garrus,” she said in a strained voice. “And good luck.”

“You too, Shepard.” And he turned from her, because he had to. He couldn’t allow himself even a last glance, lest his resolve crumble to dust. He knew without looking that Shepard was still staring at the floor to steady her own determination to let him go.

Chapter Text

“It really isn’t necessary that you come all the way to the Citadel for this, Mister Vakarian,” Shepard’s advocate said over the comm. “Your local judiciary will have the holo-chamber set-up for remote participation in the trial.”

“No,” Garrus said. “I want to come.”

“Well… good, then. It will send the right message to the public and the Council judiciary: Shepard’s the kind of person people show up for, the kind of person who inspires loyalty and friendship.”

“She is.”

“Great. I’ll let the Commander know that you’re coming… and we’ll see you on the Citadel in a couple weeks. I’ll have my office send you the details.”

“Sounds good.” The call ended without Garrus asking the dozen questions that had gotten tangled together in his throat: questions about Shepard, the advocate’s estimation of the odds of various outcomes in the trial, and whether or not Garrus might be able to see her while he was on the station. 

He’d already spent an hour the day before on the comm badgering his former C-Sec colleagues about the security arrangements for Shepard. While he understood why the Alliance had opted to have the Council courts handle Shepard’s case, the change in venue made him nervous; the Citadel, even C-Sec detention, wasn’t as secure as Alliance headquarters on Earth. Batarians and Cerberus would have far easier access to Shepard as long as she was on the station.

And sure enough, within minutes of getting off the comm with Shepard’s advocate, Garrus' father called out to him from the sitting room. “Garrus, you’re going to want to see this.”

When Garrus entered the sitting room, his father was in front of the monitor watching the news. The reporter seemed to be broadcasting from one of the Citadel docks. “What’s going on?” he asked.

His father gestured at the screen. “It looks like some Batarian took a few shots at your old commander.”

Garrus felt the blood drain from his face as he watched the screen. An assassination attempt on Shepard as she was arriving the station. “Was she hurt?” Garrus asked, more frantically than he had intended.

His dad shot him a brief, critical glance. “Nothing serious,” he said. “I doubt it will be the last attempt, though.”

“Damn it,” Garrus grumbled. “I should have been there.”

Castis’ mandibles tightened. “Why? It’s not as though they’d let an armed civilian near Shepard. You’re not C-Sec anymore.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still, it was hell knowing that Shepard was facing threats like this without the ability to fight back. Being unarmed and undoubtedly forced to wear biotic damping cuffs whenever in transit left her entirely dependent on the competence of C-Sec and her Alliance guards to keep her safe. And the only person Garrus would ever trust to watch Shepard’s back was himself.

He noticed his father was still staring at him curiously. “Have you seen Commander Shepard since her reappearance?” he asked. Something in his tone told Garrus that he had already intuited the answer.

“She helped me out of a tight spot on Omega,” Garrus said, not wanting to get into the details of either his mission with Cerberus nor his relationship with Shepard. “She’s the only reason I got out of there alive.”

Castis’ eyes narrowed. “How did you know how to contact her?”

He snorted. “I didn’t. She just showed up.”

Castis scoffed. “Lucky.”

The luckiest .

“And that was it? She pulled your carapace out of the fire, and then you parted ways?”

“What is this about, Dad?” Garrus snapped. “Why the interrogation?”

Castis shook his head. “I don’t trust your involvement with this woman, Garrus. She clearly has some kind of influence over you. And I don’t believe for a damn second that she didn’t pull you into this business with Cerberus.”

Garrus looked away, deciding how to respond. His father would find out about Garrus’ involvement with Shepard and Cerberus in a couple weeks when he made public testimony, anyway. He took a deep breath and sat heavily in an armchair, facing his father. “The Collectors were taking colonies, under the control of the Reapers. Shepard needed my help, so yeah, I joined her squad. And we saved the whole damn galaxy a couple times over… so, you’re welcome.”

Castis folded his arms and leaned back. “The Reapers again, is it? The Council discounted the existence of the Reapers years ago.”

“The Council is wrong,” he said firmly. “And when the evidence comes out in Shepard’s trial, they might just have to listen this time.”

Castis’ eyes widened. “You have evidence this time?”

Garrus shrugged. “More than we had three years ago. But whether or not it’s enough to cut through everyone’s denial…” Garrus’ head fell as he was struck with the anticipation of defeat. But he pushed the feeling down, remembering his faith in Shepard. “Well, if anyone can convince them, it’s Shepard…. And I’ll be going to the Citadel in a couple weeks to back her up.”

Castis quietly considered his son for several seconds before speaking again. “I wonder,” he said, his subvocals flanging with suspicion. “Why this devotion to Shepard? Ever since that call from you about joining her to take down Saren… and then letting your life fall apart after she went MIA…” Castis shook his head. “It’s very concerning, Garrus.” 

Anger sparked in Garrus. “What’s concerning, Dad?” he growled. “The fact that I am loyal to someone who's damn worthy of my devotion? Or is it the fact that I’m in love with a human that’s unsettling you?”

Castis scoffed and his mandibles fanned tightly in disgust. “ Love ,” he practically spat the word. “Is that what you call it? What future could you possibly hope to have with this woman? A human?”

Garrus had not expected approval, but still Castis’ words hurt. “You don’t even know her, Dad,” he said.

Castis leaned forward. “And you’re not answering the damn question. What future do you see here?”

Garrus knew what Castis meant by future: marriage, children, a settled conventional life. And certainly, Garrus had thought of those things too. In turian culture, it was considered to be every citizen’s responsibility to marry and have children. All part of the turian preoccupation with service to the nation. Involvements with aliens and members of the same sex, were tolerated as flings or second marriages, but were generally frowned upon by traditionalists like his father. But even had Shepard been a turian woman, a future with her would have been difficult for Garrus to envision at this point; no matter their feelings for one another, everything beyond the present was uncertain.

“I don’t know, Dad,” Garrus said with a heavy sigh. “With the Reaper invasion imminent, I’m not sure any of us can count on a future, whatever our species.”

Castis’ outrage seemed to fade somewhat. “You really believe that?” he asked with less incredulity than Garrus had expected. “That we’re facing the prospect of galactic genocide at the hands these Reapers?”

Garrus nodded gravely. “Yeah, Dad. I do.” He looked at his father and wondered if he might actually be open to listening. “The whole reason I’m on Palaven now is to try to convince the Primacy to take the Reapers seriously.”

Castis snorted. “Sorry, son, but you might as well stand in the street shouting about the coming apocalypse. You’re not exactly high enough up the Meritocracy to get an audience with anyone with any clout.”

“But you are,” Garrus said, braced for more mockery.

Castis leaned back in his chair and scowled. “You want to take advantage of my standing in the Meritocracy? Just because you’re my son?”

“No. But I hope being your son counts for enough that you’ll give me a chance to convince you that the Reaper threat is real. And if you think the evidence merits the attention of someone higher up… well… we can go from there.”

Castis looked thoughtfully at Garrus. “Alright, son. I’ll review the evidence with you and determine whether or not it has the substance to warrant my involvement.”

Garrus gaped at him. “I… uh… honestly wasn’t expecting you to agree that easily.”

He shrugged. “You were always a good investigator, Garrus. I trust that you wouldn’t bring this to me if there wasn’t something to Shepard’s Reaper theory…. That or you’re too infatuated to see clearly. I’m not sure which.”

“It’s a lot more than infatuation, Dad,” Garrus said as irritation mingled with gratitude. “But I promise, I don’t see Shepard or the Reapers through a fogged scope. Our claims hold water.”

“We’ll see," Castis grumbled. "On all counts.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, Vakarian,” Officer Owens said, shaking his head. “You know the protocol here.”

Garrus leaned on the front desk of C-Sec detention and took a measured breath in an effort to keep his cool. “I’m not asking for much, Owens. Just tell me who I need to talk to to request clearance to see Commander Shepard.” He tapped the top of the monitor between them. “You probably have the contact information I need right there.”

Owens shook his head. “I can’t give anything out when it comes to Shepard. No exceptions.” He laughed. “Weren’t you the one harassing half the department a couple weeks ago about tightening protocol? This is what you get for being a pain in everyone’s ass.”

Garrus’ nostrils flared. He was grateful that either his calls or the attempts on Shepard’s life had been responded to appropriately, but he didn’t appreciate the irony. “Okay. Just… Can you pass on a message to whoever is in charge of clearing people to see--”

“Garrus Vakarian!” came a voice from the nearby doors to C-Sec detention.

Garrus straightened up and turned to see Councilor Anderson exiting detention and walking his way. “Councilor!” he called back. If anyone could help him cut through the red tape to see Shepard, it was him.

“You made one hell of a witness for Shepard out there today,” Anderson said, holding out his hand.

Garrus shook it. “I hope it helped.”

Anderson nodded. “You reminded the galaxy of who Shepard is. The hero and the person underneath it all.” 

Garrus looked off toward the doors. “How is she?”

Anderson guided Garrus to a quiet corner before answering. “She’s been better,” he said tensely. “Depressed... angry... frustrated… The trial has been brutal for her.”

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to dwell on Anderson’s confirmation that Shepard was struggling. “I've been following.” One of the prosecutors had dug pretty hard into Mindoir a few days before, laying bare Shepard’s most traumatic experiences in an effort to sell what happened to her there as a motive for destroying the Alpha relay. When the screen had shown Shepard’s face, pale with an absent expression, putting everything she had into maintaining her composure, Garrus had recalled that day on the docks with Talitha when he’d overheard a small piece of what Shepard had endured as a kid. It had felt like an intrusion then, and the trial had intruded even deeper, revealing more and broadcasting it to the galaxy.

“I think it did her a lot of good to hear you speak today,” Anderson said, snapping Garrus' attention back to the present. “First I've seen her smile since this started.”

He remembered her smile, soft and trembling on the cusp of tears as he’d spoken. He looked off toward the doors to detention again. “Any chance I can see her?” he asked.

Anderson sighed and shook his head. “I'm sorry, but absolutely no contact with Cerberus or former Cerberus associates is permitted.”

 Garrus’ anger flared hotly. “Come on! She's under surveillance and armed guard! Just a few minutes to--”

“No,” he cut Garrus off, his tone compassionate but firm. “I can't allow it…. Look, I know your intentions are good. I know you two are close…. But any bending of the rules is only going to hurt Shepard when it comes out in trial…. I'm sorry.”

The anger that had burned in him a moment before faded to frustration at Anderson’s reasoning. “Right,” he grumbled. “I get it.” It was all monumentally unfair, but he got it. 

Anderson snorted humorlessly. “Well, you're taking it better than Shepard did when I told her the same thing five minutes ago. Her biotics were burning so hot the furniture shook. Her guard asked if he should call for backup to put the cuffs back on her.”

Garrus shook his head as worry constricted around his chest and gut. “I've never seen Shepard lose control of her biotics like that. Things must be really bad.”

Anderson nodded. “She's under an extraordinary amount of pressure, so they’re running a little hotter than usual.”

“When was the last time she wasn't under extraordinary pressure. She's always been in control.”

“But that's just it,” Anderson said. “You've only seen Shepard in battle or other situations where she is in control. Now she has no outlet to blow off steam and essentially no power to affect her circumstances. And it doesn't help that she's cut off from most of the people who care about her.” He put a sympathetic hand on Garrus’ shoulder. “But try not to worry too much. She knows how to cool down when she needs to…. She's going to get through this.”

“They shouldn't be putting her through this at all, ” Garrus said, shrugging off Anderson’s hand. “The Alliance knows damn well that every one of Shepards choices was necessary. You’re just using her as a political pawn. And that’s a hell of a way to treat the person who’s given everything, including her life , to keep this galaxy safe.”

“Yeah, I know,” Anderson said without flinching under Garrus’ outrage. “I hate it as much as you do.”

Garrus doubted that very much.

“Standing trial like this might be the hardest thing the Alliance has ever asked from her, and that’s saying a lot. And tomorrow will be one of the hardest days for her yet.”

Garrus mandibles tightened. “What do you mean? What happens tomorrow?” 

“Staff Commander Alenko takes the stand.”

The news took a moment to fully settle. “Wait…” Garrus said as he caught the meaning behind Anderson’s weary tone. “Kaidan is taking the stand… for the prosecution ?”

Anderson nodded gravely.

“You can't be serious,” Garrus said, baffled.

“I wish I wasn't. He’ll be speaking to the treason charges.”

Garrus shook his head. “Kaidan had some harsh words for Shepard on Horizon, but I thought once he cooled down a bit he’d come around.”

 “I’m afraid not. When he was debriefed after Horizon, his stance was that Shepard is under Cerberus control. And that’s the case the prosecution will be making with his testimony.”

Shepard saved Kaidan’s damn life, and this was how he repaid her? After all they’d been to each other? “Does Shepard know this is coming?” Garrus asked.

“Yeah, she knows. And she knows what to expect. But still, this one will hurt.” Garrus was sure of that. 

“Exactly how much longer is this farce of justice going to continue?” he asked.

“Not too much longer. Tomorrow is the last day of witnesses. Then Shepard takes the stand. There will be a few days for experts to review different elements of the case and make their evaluations. Another day for final statements. Then hopefully the arbiters will have a decision the next day. All in all, about another week.”

Garrus sighed. One more grueling week. “How do you and Shepard’s advocate think this is all going to shake out?” he asked heavily.

“She won't be extradited. That much I'm sure of. The Council doesn’t recognize the Batarian justice system as legitimate, no matter how they otherwise view the substance of their claims. And there are enough mitigating factors surrounding Shepard’s involvement with Cerberus and her actions in the Bahak system that we’re not concerned about capital punishment either.” Anderson looked away. “There have been a few… negotiations, off the record, to urge the arbiters to arrive at the right sentence. Not the way I like to do politics, but we all need this to go the right way.”

Garrus’ eyes widened at Anderson’s confession. He was familiar with the dirty side of politics obstructing the justice system, but he’d fall to his knees in praise of the Spirit of corruption if it meant Shepard got to walk away from this without serving time. “You think you’ve persuaded them to acquit?” 

Anderson shook his head. “She’ll be grounded. Decommissioned for involvement with Cerberus. The Alliance has promised that much. In exchange, she's looking at no more than ten years of incarceration. At least five years. Alliance detention on Earth if all goes the way I expect.”

“Ten years ?” Garrus growled. “She saves the whole damn galaxy three times over, and they'll give her a decade for it!”

“I know it's frustrating.” Anderson said, his own temper rising. “I hate that we have to throw Shepard under the bus to prevent a war and protect the Alliance’s galactic standing. But there’s more to it than that. The Batarians want her blood. Cerberus too. And putting Shepard in detention on Earth is our best shot at keeping her safe . Hell, there have been three assassination attempts on her since we arrived on the Citadel. On Earth at Alliance headquarters the Batarians and Cerberus can't reach her as easily.”

“She's going to hate that,” Garrus said, hating it himself. He was pretty sure that the safest place for Shepard was at his side, pistol in hand, biotics curling from her fingertips, not locked up in a cell with her fate in the hands of some underpaid guard. 

“I know she’ll hate it,” Anderson replied. “But I need Shepard alive and ready-at-hand when the Reaper invasion starts.”

“Protecting your most valuable resource?” Garrus asked, seething at Anderson for prioritizing Shepard’s usefulness over her freedom.   

“You're damn right I am!” he snapped, but his anger quickly receded. “I'm also protecting my friend. Trust me, Alliance detention is the best place for her right now. And if Shepard’s predictions about the Reaper invasion are right, she’ll be locked up for a lot less than five years. I’d bet good money that you’ll be fighting by her side again in no time.”

Despite his grim tone, Anderson’s words were oddly comforting. Shepard would be vindicated by the Reapers’ arrival, and whatever her sentence, it would be reversed. In the meantime, Garrus had plenty to keep him busy on Palaven. It might not ease the pain of separation from Shepard, but it would at least be a way for him to work toward the chance at having a future with her. 

“I'll be staying on the Citadel until they have a verdict,” Garrus said, looking once more toward the doors, thinking of Shepard in her cell beyond.

“Good,” Anderson said with a nod. “I'll get you a seat where Shepard can see you. I'm sure it will mean a lot to her knowing you're there. I wish I could do more.”

Chapter Text

There were a few things that could make Garrus’ blood boil, but hurting Shepard and being a traitorous prick certainly topped the list. And Kaidan was two for two. He’d stood in front of a galactic audience and made the claim that Shepard’s actions since her reappearance were not consistent with the Commander Shepard he’d known. He’d given credence to the argument that she wasn’t Commander Shepard at all, but a pawn of the Illusive Man, wearing Shepard’s face and reputation to give legitimacy to Cerberus and manipulate public opinion. He’d called Shepard’s involvement with Cerberus “indefensible” and her self-professed motives “suspect.” When asked if he thought there was merit to the charges of treason, he’d frowned, sighed heavily, and said “Yes. By definition, working with a terrorist organization is treason,” illiciting such a strong reaction from those in attendance that the chief arbiter had had to call a recess.

Garrus pushed his way against the throng of departing people to get as close to Shepard as he could before the guards blocked his way. He stood on the balls of his feet, waved his arms and shouted “Shepard!” over the din, catching her attention. 

Shepard turned her head and looked at him from within her shielded enclosure, eyes glassy, a pained smile tightening her features. Her lips shaped his name, but he couldn’t hear.

He wanted to remind her that Kaidan was wrong, that she was real and herself, that her actions were necessary and had saved the galaxy when no one else had the courage to make the hard choices. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. But he knew her translator wouldn’t be able to pick out his words above chaos. So, as the guards continued to push him back, he shouted again the only word he knew would reach her: “Shepard! Shepard! Shepard!” All he wanted to say was left to the subtext of his subvocal hum. Then the advocate touched a panel and the shield around Shepard’s enclosure darkened, hiding her from his view. So, with a not-so-gentle urging from the guards, Garrus’ shoulders slumped and he walked with the flow of the departing crowd.

He didn’t go looking for Kaidan on purpose. In fact, he wished that he’d never have to see the man again, all remaining friendship between them laid to waste by this act of betrayal. But when Garrus spotted him standing at a coffee station on the Presidium, adding cream to his beverage, something in him snapped. 

“Alenko!” Garrus growled in blind fury as he pushed his way past the line of patrons in the cafe.

Kaidan turned just before Garrus made contact, spilling the hot drink over both of them, and lifting Kaidan off his feet as he pressed him into the wall, his forearm against Kaidan’s throat. There were gasps and shouts of surprise around them. A biotic wave hit Garrus, pushing him back, and Kaidan fell to the ground, coughing and massaging his throat. 

When Garrus took another menacing step toward Kaidan, the human held up his glowing hand in warning. “Back off, Garrus!” he shouted in a strained voice. “I didn't have a choice!”

“You traitorous bastard!” Garrus growled. “Of course you had a damn choice!”

Kaidan rose to his feet. “No, I didn't. I… I tried to refuse, but they subpoenaed me…. What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“You did lie ! You're just too thickheaded and bitter to see it!”

Kaidan’s nostrils flared. “I know you trust her. But that person is not Shepard! Joining Cerberus goes against everything Shepard believed in!”

Garrus scoffed. “What you know about what ‘Shepard believed in’ could fit on a pamphlet. In fact I think you can pick one up at the Alliance recruitment office.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kaidan asked, hurt and anger shaking through his tone. “I was in love with her!”

Garrus shook his head and snorted. “ Love ? You're so stuck on what a paragon Shepard was that you might as well have been in love with that statue they put up of her on Mindoir!”

Kaidan staggered back as though he’d been struck. “Is that what you think?” 

Garrus approached Kaidan and pressed a finger into his chest. “I think that anyone who actually knew her wouldn't have said what you did on that stand today.” His voice was low and dangerous. “You think Shepard’s a traitor? What the hell would you call what you did to her today?”

He shoved Garrus away, and the seething red that climbed Kaidan’s neck told Garrus that he wanted to do much more than that to him. “That person is not Shepard,” he said in the same low, dangerous tone as Garrus had used.

“You’re wrong,” Garrus snarled in Kaidan’s face before stepping back and taking a deep breath, knowing that if he didn’t calm down he’d soon be throwing Kaidan over the nearby balcony. 

Kaidan took a deep breath of his own. “That’s just wishful thinking, Garrus,” he said, his voice tired and depressed. “Shepard is gone. Some part of you knows that.”

“Kaidan, I just spent months with her. You spoke to her for all of two minutes on Horizon. Don't you think you might lack a bit of perspective here?”

For a moment Kaidan looked thoughtful as his brow furrowed. But in the next moment he shook his head fervently. “No… I… I knew her... and… and the real Shepard would never work for terrorists. She’d never betray the Alliance or the Council. It’s not who she was.”

“You're trying to make everything black and white. That's not the way the universe works, and it's not the way Shepard works…. And you should know that. Shepard saved the galaxy twice over by working with Cerberus, just like she saved the galaxy by defying the Council and the Alliance three years ago. She did what she had to do, and if she hadn't the Reapers would be here right now.”

Kaidan’s gaze fell to the ground between them. He stood there silently for several seconds before he spoke again. His voice came heavy and defeated. “Look… Garrus… I… It’s not like I want her extradited or executed…. My responsibility and duty was to tell the court what I know… The rest is up to the arbiters.”

Garrus stood over Kaidan and spoke in a quiet, gravelly voice. “Lucky for you extradition and execution aren't actually on the table. Because I promise you if she was handed over to the Batarians or given capital punishment because of what you said in that courtroom, I'd be doing a lot more than shoving you into a wall.”

Chapter Text

Garrus felt numb on the trip back to Palaven. Five years. No contact . He’d thought that after the trial the restriction on visitations would be lifted. He’d already begun to plan out the logistics for making a visit to Earth every few months. But they’d gone and made forbidding contact with Cerberus associates (current and former) a condition of Shepard’s relatively short incarceration. Five years without seeing her, without nuzzling into her almond-scented hair, without feeling the pull of her biotics, without fighting at her side, without blowing off steam, without even talking to her. Five years of sending letters that she wouldn’t receive. It was almost enough to make him hope that the Reapers would show up sooner rather than later.

Part of him wished he could do what she’d told him and move on. It would certainly hurt less if he could shake off his feelings for her and go about his life, afterall. And there was no guarantee that Shepard would feel the same way about him when this was over, even if the Reapers cut her incarceration short. But he couldn't imagine a possible universe in which his love for Shepard could ever stop, no matter what pain came with it. So he’d live every moment, waiting for the next to pass. And he’d pour himself into the task Shepard had set him, making sure their sacrifice counted for something. 

When he arrived at his family home, his father was shut up in his office, and he could hear his mother and sister talking in the upstairs bedroom. Garrus sank into a chair in the sitting room and opened his extranet account. A long queue of unread messages awaited him. He skimmed through the list, noticing wearily that most were about the outcome of the trial. From Jack a message titled “sucks to be you” made him snort. Everyone else was a little more delicate. Then his eyes stuck on a message from Kaidan. He stared at the sender’s name for a while, debating whether or not to delete it. But he had to admit he relished the thought of having a target for his anger. It would be a nice change from seething over politics. And if Kaidan wanted to volunteer as a punching bag, Garrus wouldn’t object. So he clicked on the message titled “about Shepard.”

Garrus, 

Maybe you were right. Maybe I did lack perspective. I still don't trust Cereberus' involvement in bringing Shepard back. But in her testimony, I saw some of the old Shepard come through. Maybe there's more of her in there than I wanted to admit. I don't know. I hope so. 

If she is really Shepard, then I’m glad she had a friend like you there to speak for her. And if Cerberus still has a hold on her… well let’s just hope I’m the ass hole here. In any case, it’s pretty clear the Arbiters didn’t put much weight on my testimony. Because, five years for treason? That’s got to be some kind of record.

-Kaidan   

Garrus scowled and deleted the message. He’d been hoping for an excuse to lose his temper, but this was mostly just an irritating attempt at self-absolution. Ultimately, Kaidan was right that his testimony hadn’t lengthened Shepard’s minimum sentence. But, in addition to the indefensible crime of betraying Shepard, Kaidan was to blame for casting doubt on whether or not Shepard was under Cerberus control. The doubt which had led to her former Cerberus associates being barred from having contact with her. Kaidan had cut off much of Shepard’s support system, intentionally or not. And Garrus wasn’t about to let that go.

Garrus reminded himself that Shepard would still have Anderson. The news of Anderson’s resignation from the Council had followed quickly on the heels of Shepard’s sentencing, sending the message that the Alliance stood with Shepard, even as they’d agreed to the terms of her incarceration. Anderson would take on the rank of Admiral to lead Earth’s Reaper defense initiative. He’d have his hands full, but Garrus trusted that Anderson would find time to pay Shepard an occasional visit. 

And there was Curtis. A message from him was included in Garrus’ waiting inbox. He tapped the message.

Dear Garrus,

I know there aren’t words that can make all of this easier. The fact that it could have been much worse doesn’t change the entirely valid hurt that you’re undoubtedly feeling. I know it doesn’t for me. Five years is devastating. And this “no contact” garbage is cruel. To you and Cass both.

Cass mentioned to me that she’d told you to move on. And, honestly, no relationship could be expected to endure 5 years of nothing. Moving on is perfectly good advice. Good advice which I whole-heartedly disagree with. You have my full support to go right ahead and hold onto her forever. Death didn’t stop you from loving her, so why the hell should this?

I’d offer to pass notes between you to keep things going, but my visits are surveilled, and I can’t risk losing my contact with Cassidy by breaking the rules; I’m practically all she has right now. I’m sure you understand. But I’ll gladly keep you updated about how she’s doing. Unless of course a clean break is what you want (he says knowing full well that, come what may, you’ll love her until the end of time, cue music). 

For all the nonsense about clean breaks and moving on, Cass loves you. I hope she had the sense to tell you that herself before you parted ways, but if she didn’t, there it is. She absolutely loves you.

Let’s keep in touch. I plan to dance at your wedding once this is all over. So please don’t disappoint me by listening to Cassidy’s very good (yet somehow wholly stupid) advice.

Sincerely,

Curt (President of the Shakarian fan club)

Gratitude for Curtis spread warmly through Garrus’ chest. If anyone could get Shepard through this, it was him. And if anything could get Garrus through this, it was knowing that Shepard still had someone who loved her in her life, even if that someone couldn’t be Garrus himself. 

Garrus was about to write back to Curtis when he heard the sound of his mother’s bedroom door open and close. He watched as his sister came into view and descended the stairs. Things had been tense between them. She’d been angry that he hadn’t been there when their mother’s condition had started to worsen, and his decision to take a week long vacation to the Citadel hadn’t helped smooth things over between them. Garrus hadn’t told her about the Collector mission or why he needed to go to Shepard’s trail, so her feelings were understandable.

“Garrus!” Sol said, freezing halfway down the stairs when she spotted him. “When did you get back?”

“Just got in,” he said, closing his extranet account. “How's Mom?”

She sighed and continued down the stairs. “Comfortable. Sleeping. Her lucidity comes and goes.”

He nodded. “I’ll go in and see her when she wakes up.”

She nodded and took a seat. “She’d like that.” Sol looked down at her fidgeting hands for a few moments and then back up at him. “I… uh… I watched the trial.”

“Oh… I… uh… didn’t think you’d be interested in that,” he said uncomfortably.

“ Why didn't you tell me about your mission?” she asked, baffled. “I thought you were doing mercenary work or… or just looking for reasons to avoid coming home. If I’d known what you were really up to…” she shook her head.

“You had plenty going on without worrying about me,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t want to put more on you.”

“Well, I might have wasted less energy being angry at you if I'd known,” she grumbled. “All the awful things I said to you…”

“Don’t worry about it, Sol. Even if I had good reasons… you were right: you needed me here, and I chose to be somewhere else.”

“Because Shepard needed you too?” she asked, mandibles fanning.

“Yeah. Shepard needed me.”

Sol leaned forward and put a hand on his knee. “You're really in love with her, aren't you?”

Garrus was taken by surprise. It didn’t seem likely that Castis would have told her about their conversation. “How did you…?”

She laughed and leaned back in her chair. “I saw your testimony. You really need to get control of your subvocals. Every time you said her name, it was with this heartbreaking wistful longing humming underneath. And so much tenderness .” She whistled and crossed her arms. “I’m pretty sure anyone who understands turian subvocals caught on.”

“That obvious, huh?”

She nodded. “Plus I know you, and the way you describe her is exactly the kind of person you'd fall for…. Besides, I doubt you would have gone all the way to the Citadel and stayed for a week if she was just your ex-commander.”

“Ah.”

“Dad’s not thrilled. I’m sure you could guess that.”

He nodded. “We talked about it before I left.”

Her mandibles hung slack. “You told him? Willingly ?” She shook her head. “This must be serious if you’d tell Dad about it.”

Garrus snorted. “I love her, Sol; of course it’s serious.”

“And she loves you?”

“Yeah. Who knows why… but she does.”

“Shit. And they’re giving her five years ?” 

He nodded. “It could have gone a hell of a lot worse.”

She nodded sympathetically. “Did you at least get to visit her?”

The pain of it tightened inside him at Sol’s question. “No. My past affiliation with Cerberus bars me from seeing her until her sentence is served.”

“Spirits. Five years before you can be with her again… That's a hell of a long time, Garrus.”

“I know , Sol,” he said wearily.

“So, what does that mean for the two of you?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. She told me to move on… but I've never felt this way about anyone. Not even close. I don’t think I could move on even if I wanted to.”

Sol gave him a pitying look. “Garrus… that’s very romantic. But… five years ? Without any contact? Long distance relationships are one thing, but this is… something else. Even if you do wait for her… are you sure she’ll wait for you? I mean if she told you to move on… maybe you should.”

He looked away, trying not to feel angry at Sol for giving him perfectly good advice. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You’re right. But I’m in too deep to walk away from this. I'll wait for her as long as it takes.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t easy seeing the once formidable Velara Nyx Vakarian transformed into this deteriorated wisp. Her muscles had atrophied on her skeletal frame. Her once sharp mind and sharper tongue had been blurred to airy softness. Her focus often drifted when Garrus spoke to her. She’d forget the thread of conversation. And sometimes she wouldn’t even recognize him, mistaking him for Castis or taking him for a stranger. But Sol had told him that their mother was having a relatively lucid morning and that he should take advantage of it. So he’d climbed the steps and opened the door to his mother’s room to find her sitting up in bed reading.

Velara turned to look at him, and her mandibles flared happily. “Garrus! When did you get home?” she asked, setting aside her book.

He’d already been to see her several times since he’d returned from the Citadel, but she’d been in a state of confusion each time, so he wasn’t surprised she’d forgotten. He sat in the chair at her bedside. “Hey, Mom. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, don't you worry about me, Garrus,” she said, patting his hand that he’d rested on the edge of the bed. “I'm doing just fine. The treatments will have me back on my feet in no time.”

Castis and Sol had already explained to her several times that she wouldn’t ever be back on her feet, and Garrus didn’t have it in him to explain it again. “That’s great, Mom,” he said, sadly. “Are you comfortable? I can get you a glass of water.”

“No thank you. But would you mind closing that window for me?” she asked, pointing. “I'm getting a draft.”

“No problem,” he said and got up. 

As he shut the window, he turned the scarred side of his face toward her, and she gasped. “Spirits, Garrus! What the hell happened? Your face!”

He returned to his seat. “I told you, Mom. I got in an accident. But I'm okay.”

Velara roughly took a hold of his face and turned it to get a better view of his scarring. “I think I'd remember you telling me about this !” She tutted and released his jaw. “Oh, Garrus. You were always so handsome. Can't the doctors fix the scarring?”

He lifted his hand to stroke the lines of his scars. “Probably. But I kind of like it.”

She folded her arms. “Mmhmm. Makes you feel tough and scary, does it?”

He laughed. “No…. Well… yes, I guess that’s part of it. But they also remind me of someone I care about.”

Velara’s eyes brightened. “Is that right?” she said in a teasing, attentive tone. “Someone special to you?”

Garrus nodded.

She took his hand in hers. “Tell me.”

Castis had asked Garrus not to tell his mother about Shepard because it might upset her. Certainly she wouldn’t like the thought of her son with a human much more than his father did. Still, something in Garrus wanted her to know at least some small piece of who Shepard was and what she meant to him. “There was someone I lost a long time ago,” he began. “Someone I loved. The best damn friend I’ve ever had. And when she died… I lost a piece of myself. Without her I was aimless and lonely. Broken. Angry.”

“Oh no,” she whined. “Not a sad story.”

“It turns around,” he promised, squeezing his mother’s hand. “I wandered lost for a long time. I tried to do good, follow the example set by my lost friend…” He shook his head, remembering. “But everything kept going wrong…. One day I was in a really tight spot. I was pinned down, and it looked like I wasn't going to make it out...  Then, there she was, the person I'd lost.”

Her eyes widened. “You said she’d died.”

“That’s what everyone thought. But there she was! I thought I was dreaming or hallucinating,” he snorted, “or dead. But she fought her way to me. And as I stared, dumbstruck by the beauty and deadly power of my friend, somehow back at my side again… flame pierced the sky and struck me!” he said with an animated tone, doing his best to capture the drama of the memory for his mother.

She gasped, humoring him with the reaction he’d hoped for. 

“I fell,” he said in his best imitation of Heirax from Fleet and Flotilla. “I could feel the life draining from me, the world going dark…. While I lay helpless, I watched my friend standing over me, defending me with the fierceness of an avenging spirit. And then, when all my enemies were dead around us, she called out my name. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was her kneeling over me, her hand here,” he said softly, placing his mother’s hand over his scars, “saying ‘Stay with me, Garrus. Hold on."

Garrus released her hand, and she brought it to her mouth. “Oh, Garrus! What happened next?”

“She got me to safety in time to save my life.”

“And then ?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what else she was looking for. “Then we saved the galaxy together.”

“No no,” she said exasperated. “I mean what happened next in the love story .”

“Oh, right.” He cleared his throat before resuming. “In time she began to feel for me the way I felt for her. And now whenever I see these scars, I think about that moment when my lost soulmate came back into my life, how when I felt most alone and hopeless she was there for me, about how she believed in me and helped me find my way back to myself. And I think of her touching my face and saying... ‘You were always ugly, Garrus. Just slap on some face paint and no one will notice.’”

His mother slapped his arm playfully and laughed. “Oh you! She did not!”

He shrugged.

Velara gave him an expectant look. “So… When can I meet her?”

Garrus looked down at the tiny flower pattern that dotted his mother’s sheets: little blue nova roses, her favorite. He hoped she didn’t see the heartbreak in his eyes as he searched for the right response. His mother would never meet Shepard. Her spirit would cross over long before his love story found a satisfying or tragic conclusion. Garrus held his subvocals steady. “Not for a while, Mom,” he lied.

“Why not! You're not going to let her get away are you?”

“Not for anything,” he promised. “She's... stationed a long way from here. But as soon as she comes back, I'll introduce you.”

His mother shook her head. “Ah,” she said bitterly. “A career soldier.”

“That's right.”

Velara pointed a warning finger at him “You be careful, Garrus. That type is hard to pin down. It's always about duty and service first with them.”

Garrus laughed. “Don't I know it.”

Chapter Text

Garrus sat at his desk, reviewing the performance data on the turian fleet’s most recent Reaper preparedness drills. They could do better, but they’d come a long way from their first drills. Six months had passed in a blur. The days had a way of bleeding into one another, and Garrus relied completely on his VI to make sure he didn’t lose track of time and miss important meetings with this or that General or member of the Primacy. It was strange to find himself suddenly associating with the highest ranking people in the Meritocracy. More than associating, really. While the Primarch had given Garrus little more than a token position and granted him a meeting with a few Generals, his evidence of the Reapers had been taken far more seriously by the military. There was still a great deal of skepticism, of course, but the Generals had worked under him to establish fleet-wide protocols and run drills to prepare for the invasion. He only hoped that it would be enough.

If nothing else, the heavy load of work made it easier to cope with the pain of being apart from Shepard. He still thought of her constantly. How could he not when his work was tied so completely to her? But it was precisely that connection to her that made him miss her less than he had in the days before he’d started his task force; it made him feel close to her to prepare for the Reapers. Because, despite the distance, he was still at her side in this fight. And it helped with the heartache to know that she would be damn proud of all he’d accomplished.

The down time was harder. He wrote to Shepard now and then, but he knew the Alliance never let his messages through. And Curtis’ updates were never encouraging. Unlike Garrus, Shepard didn’t have work to keep her busy. She was climbing the walls in Alliance detention, waiting for the Reapers to arrive, while others took on the tasks of preparation. Depression and anxiety took hold of her alternately, and always she maintained an obsessive fixation on the Reapers. Lately Curtis struggled to get her to talk about anything other than fleet readiness and the impending war. And three months before, she’d asked her brother to stop mentioning Garrus during their visits. Perhaps she was, as Curtis believed, trying to distract herself from the pain of their separation. Or maybe she had moved on, lacking either the mental space or interest to sustain their romantic entanglement.

Garrus’ eyes drifted to his top desk drawer, and he opened it to retrieve a mini-holo projector. He placed it in front of him on his desk. The shimmering image of Shepard appeared with a wave of his hand over the sensor. It was a faulty VI he’d picked up on the Citadel before their trip through the Omega relay. “ I delete data like you on the way to real errors, ” the holo said, making Garrus’ mandibles fan outward. That was all the VI said any more, and the voice was just a computer-generated approximation of Shepard’s voice. But it took the edge off of missing her. Months ago, he’d put in requests to Alliance detention and the Council judiciary to be granted a special dispensation to visit Shepard, but to no avail. Now it didn’t matter; he had too much work to make a visit to Earth feasible, even if the Council had granted him visitation.

Garrus’ office door chimed, and he quickly tucked the holo back into the drawer. “Come in,” he called out. 

Yeoman Arallius, the young man assigned as Garrus’ personal assistant, entered the room and saluted. “Vakarian, Sir,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “Urgent news. All the channels are broadcasting it.”

Garrus tensed. “Broadcasting what?”

“Earth, Sir. It's under attack.”

Garrus rose slowly from his seat, braced for the news he could never be ready to hear. “Under attack by whom?”

“Early reports are saying it's the geth, Sir.” 

Garrus turned on his omni-tool and tuned in to the local Palaven news channel, praying silently to the Spirits that it really was just the Geth. But the broadcast image that projected from his omni-tool wasn’t of a Geth ship. Ice cold terror ran through his veins as he watched the footage of a Reaper attacking Arcturus Station and another firing on a building on Earth that the caption identified as Earth Parliament headquarters. “Those aren't geth,” he said gravely as he turned on the audio.

“Three of these invading vessels, resembling the geth ship ‘Sovereign’ that attacked the Citadel more than three years ago, are now in the skies of Earth,” the news anchor reported. “Alliance sources confirm that Arcturus Station was destroyed by the enemy force before they entered the Sol system. Alliance HQ on Earth was the next target, followed immediately by Parliament, suggesting that the invading force is prioritizing military and political targets. Actual numbers are unavailable, but it's expected that the casualties may already be in the hundreds of thousands and climbing quickly.” The footage changed to show a Reaper cutting through a building Garrus recognized as Alliance HQ. The building that housed Alliance Detention. The building where Shepard was.

The force of the Reaper’s attack hit him so personally that for a disoriented moment he felt as though the building he was in had been struck. He leaned forward against his desk and closed his eyes as the broadcast audio continued to report on Alliance loses. “Spirits… Shepard,” he said in a wavering voice, barely above a whisper. All the trouble to keep her safe to save her for the impending invasion, and she’d likely been killed in the first minutes of the attack on Earth. His hands tightened into fists against the fury, grief, and fear threatening to pull apart. 

“Sir?” Arallius asked, demanding Garrus give his attention to the here and now.

Focus on the mission , he said to himself in Shepard’s voice. If the Reapers chose to Attack Alliance HQ first, the building he was in would undoubtedly be among their first targets when they reached Palaven. He needed to alert the fleet and Primacy that the invasion had begun and get to Menae to perform his role. After a deep, grounding breath, Garrus straightened up. “Code black protocol,” he said in a low voice.

Arallius stood there, stunned. “Code…” he trailed off. “A… another drill, sir?”

“Not a drill,” Garrus said, doing his best to capture the essence of Shepard’s self-assuredness when under pressure. He sat down at his desk, opened an emergency channel, and entered his command codes in a transmission to the entirety of the turian fleet. “This is Specialist Vakarian with a fleet-wide announcement,” he said, in a stone-steady voice. “The Reapers have engaged the Alliance. Initiate code black protocol. This is not a drill. I repeat: The Reapers have engaged the Alliance. Initiate code black protocol.”

Chapter Text

Two days without a word about Shepard. Palaven had instituted a black out for all non essential communications to keep the comm traffic clear. It was all part of his own damn protocols. The last thing he’d done before leaving Palaven was to send off one last message to Shepard, hoping that someone would get through to him about her status before the comms shut down. But no one had, and now any news he’d receive about Shepard would have to come through official channels in order to reach him. Not knowing if she was alive was agony. But at least without confirmation that she’d been among the casualties he could continue to hold onto the slim hope that she’d gotten out okay. As much as the realist in him rebelled against clinging to false hope, he couldn’t let himself sink beneath the waves of despair that hit him in every unoccupied moment, not with so much riding on him. Already the Reapers were engaging their forces in the colonies, and they could reach Palaven at any time. So whenever thoughts of Shepard clouded his mind, Garrus could only brace himself against the initial impact of hopelessness before reminding himself that Shepard was an expert at beating the odds. And then he’d refocus on his work. It’s what Shepard would do , he told himself. Focus on the mission . Even when it hurts. Even when it felt like his heart couldn’t handle another moment of living with the possibility of never seeing her again.

So again he pushed thoughts of Shepard aside to refocus on Corinthus who was detailing the preparedness of their ground troops. “Cabal units have been stationed at critical points, on your order, Sir,” he said to Garrus, his tone laced with skepticism. Corinthus still hadn’t fully bought into Garrus’ suggestion of integrating the biotic Cabal units into their front line defence approach. 

Garrus nodded. “Good. Nothing better at stopping a swarm of husks from overwhelming our barricades than a few well-placed singularities.” He thought of Shepard, whose report on the application of biotic abilities against Reaper ground forces had been made required reading of every biotic in the turian military. Shepard would save turian lives today, even if she was… He took a deep breath as despair threatened to pull him under again. Focus, damn it . “Trust me,” he said heavily as the feeling passed, “it will make a difference.”

“Well, our conventional strategies certainly aren’t serving us out in the colonies,” Victus said gravely. “Reports from our forces on Oma Ker show these husks swarming baracades, literally ripping soldiers apart.”

“Any word on what we can expect from the Reaper-corrupted Batarians?” Corinthus asked.

“They throw grenades and eat their dead,” Garrus said grimmly. “That’s all we know right now.”

Corinthus hung his head. “Better their dead than ours, I suppose.”

“It won’t be long before the line between our dead and their dead is blurred,” Garrus reminded him. “They’re taking our colonies, so you can bet they’re taking our people too. Soon we’ll find out what a Reaper-corrupted turian can do.”

Corinthus opened his mouth to respond, but a sergeant monitoring the nearby comm station interrupted. “Sirs, I’m receiving an urgent communication from the Citadel. Councilor Sparatus sends word that an Alliance vessel is inbound to retrieve Primarch Fedorian for a galactic war summitt.”

“The Primarch is still on Palaven,” Victus said. “When is the Alliance ship due to arrive?”

“About six hours, Sir.”

“The Reapers will be here by then.” Victis said, shaking his head. “Send word to the Primacy. We’ll send a ship to get Fedorian to Menae.”

“Yes, Sir,” said the Sergeant.

“Let the… what was the ship’s name?” Victus asked.

“The Normandy, Sir,” she responded, sending Garrus’ stomach into freefall.

“The Normandy?” Garrus asked, his heart beating in his ears. “Under whose command?” Spirits, please .

The officer checked the communication. “The Normandy SR-2, under the command of…” her eyes widened slightly. “It’s Commander Shepard.”

Garrus braced himself against the war table, his mask of composure slipping at the revelation that Shepard was not buried and broken under the rubble on Earth. “Spirits, thank you,” he said softly, voice ragged. Shepard was alive. And on her way to him.

“Alright,” Victus said to the comm officer, after casting a sidelong glance at Garrus. “Send word to Commander Shepard on the Normandy that they can expect heavy Reaper forces by the time they arrive, and they should retrieve the Primarch from Menae…. Corinthus,” he said, turning to the General, “Have your men see to it that Fedorian is here when Shepard arrives.”

“Yes, Sir,” Conrinthus replied.

Victus turned to Garrus. “Vakarian, come with me. I’d like your eyes on the gun tower near outpost 4. It’s been giving us problems during drills, and I hear you have a knack for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, Sir.” Garrus straightened up and was relieved to find that the ground was solid beneath him. In fact, now that the initial relief had settled in, everything felt more solid than it had since the day of Shepard’s sentencing. So he grabbed his weapons and followed after Victus, hoping only that he’d be back to basecamp in time for Shepard’s arrival.    

Once they were clear of basecamp, Victus glanced over at Garrus. “You’ve worked with Shepard before?” he asked as they walked. Victus of course knew the answer, but Garrus had become used to the ways people tried to casually broach the topic of his acquaintance with Shepard.

“Yes, Sir…” he responded. “I was part of her team when the Council sent her after Saren Arterius, and I joined up again when she took on the Collectors.”

“You seemed… pretty relieved back there to hear she’s on her way here,” Victus noted, his subvocals betraying his curiosity.

“Yeah,” Garrus said, breathlessly. He shook his head. “The building where she was being incarcerated on Earth was obliterated in the Reaper attack. I wasn’t sure she’d gotten out. I’d thought she might be…” He couldn’t say the word.

“Dead?” Victus offered.

“Yeah. If she hadn’t made it out…. Well, let’s just say that there will be a lot more dead Reapers with Shepard in this fight.”

“No personal stakes there, Vakarian?” Victus asked, knowingly.

He snorted. “Maybe a few, Sir.”

“I bet Castis loves that,” he chuckled. Victus and Garrus’ father were old friends… or maybe old enemies. It was hard to say. All Garrus was sure of was that they always yelled a great deal and drank a great deal in one another’s company.

“He’s… dealing with it,” Garrus said. “He’s decided the best thing for me to do is let my ‘infatuation’ with Shepard run its course.”

“This is more than an infatuation to you, I take it?”

A hell of a lot more . Garrus glanced at Victus, unsure of whether or not the General disapproved of his relationship with Shepard. “Why the interest in my personal life, Sir?” he asked.

Victus laughed and shrugged. “I like to know the people I serve with. What are their motivations? Their fears? What do they have to lose, and what do they have to gain when they go into a fight?”

Garrus was sure he’d heard Shepard say something similar in the past, and it made him feel more at ease with the General to recognize that similarity. “If you really want to know, Shepard is my answer to all of those questions. Maybe it started with infatuation back when I first met her, but I’ve been in deep for almost four years. Granted she was dead for half of that, but still I’m pretty sure infatuation would have burned itself out by now.”

“Love, then?” Victus asked.

Garrus nodded.

“And she feels the same?”

That was the question. “I hope so. It’s been six months without contact.”

Victus nodded sympathetically. “You’re afraid her feelings have changed. I’ve been there. Being career military… months without seeing my family. It was especially hard on my first marriage.”

“ First marriage,” Garrus repeated, understanding the implication.

“Yeah,” he said wistfully. “I couldn’t blame her for leaving. My priorities have always been with the fleet and my duty. I imagine Shepard is the same way, given her record.”

“Yeah,” Garrus said. “She has to be. Every moment I’ve known her she’s been carrying the galaxy on her shoulders, taking big risks and making big sacrifices, getting herself killed and incarcerated.”

“And you don’t fault her for that?”

Garrus laughed. “Sure I do. I hate that she carries so damn much, that she puts everyone else’s interests ahead of her own. But it’s also one of the things I love most about her…. Still, I hold out some hope that after we’ve kicked the Reapers back to hell, Shepard might be able to balance her own interests against those of the galaxy a bit.”

“And settle down with you?” Victus asked.

“Shepard? Settled?” He shook his head. “Probably not…. But maybe there will be some longer stretches of calm to break up the chaos.”

“And what do you see happening in those longer stretches of calm?” Victus asked. “Marriage? A family?”

Garrus sighed. “That would be nice,” he said. He’d spent the last six months trying not to think of the specific things he wanted out of a future with Shepard. Between her incarceration and the impending invasion, it had hurt too much to visualize something that, odds were, they couldn’t have. But knowing that Shepard had survived and would soon be within reach buoyed Garrus with new hope, and acknowledging to Victus that he wanted to marry Shepard and raise a family with her didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected it would. Maybe it wasn’t wreckless to bet on the possibility of a long happy future with Shepard. Maybe they could see each other through this war to the other side.

The crackling comm brought Garrus’ thoughts and gate to a halt. “General Victus, Vakarian, Reaper forces have entered the Trebia system!” came Corinthus’ voice. “They are inbound for Palaven!”

Victus gave Garrus a grave look. “We need to get to that gun tower. Now.”

When Garrus returned to basecamp, his eyes found her immediately. She was talking to Corinthus. She was tense, frustrated, already feeling the weight of the war. But her presence still sent a shiver through Garrus. There was nothing like seeing Shepard in her element. Even on this alien moon, she was in command of the space, and everyone could feel it. General Corinthus might have towered over her in stature and rank, but he looked small next to Shepard, and his subvocals bent in deference like a raw recruit when he responded to her. This was her war, and she was here to win it. Everyone else would step in line. And Garrus would be right there with her. Back where he belonged at Commander Shepard’s side. 

This wasn’t exactly the setting he’d hoped for in all his fantasies of their reunion. Shepard with her subordinates. Soldiers and a General watching. Reapers taking out ships in the sky’s overhead. The mission pulling their focus from one another. And of course there were his lingering fears that six months apart and the pressures of war might have cooled her feelings for him. That was a conversation that would have to precede any bold display of affection, a conversation for a quiet moment away from the ears of soldiers hungry for the diversion of gossip. If a heartbreak was coming for him, let it be without an audience. So as he approached the platform where she was, he settled on a less intimate display.

His words came to him with the easy confidence of a man who was practiced at doing the impossible for the Commander: “ I’m on it, Shepard. We’ll find you the Primarch .”

Shepard’s gaze snapped to him, and some of that tension she was carrying fell from her. The shadow of a smile lifted at the corners of her down-turned lips. “ Garrus !” she said, her tone surprised and relieved to suddenly be in his company again. “ You’re alive .”

Garrus’ mandibles flared at the realization that she’d been worried about him. He took her right hand in both of his, and the warmth of their contact after so long apart spread tingling up his arm. To most people watching, it would look like a congenial handshake between two old friends, but he could see in Shepard’s bright eyes that she’d caught the way the fingers of his left hand subtly stroked the armor at her wrist. “I have a lot to live for,” he said softly, enjoying the hint of pink that rose on her cheeks. “ You should know that .”

Chapter Text

Garrus didn’t want to assume too much. After all, decoding the subtlety of human flirtation wasn’t exactly his strong suit. But he found it encouraging that a smile teased at Shepard’s lips every time she felt his eyes on her. And on the shuttle ride to the Normandy, she’d taken a seat next to him, letting her thigh and arm bump freely against him as they were jostled by the atmospheric turbulence. If nothing else, she wasn’t uncomfortable to have him in close proximity again. That was something, at least. Enough to hang a hope on.

When they reached the Normandy, Shepard instructed a crew member to get the Primarch’s team situated. Then she stood close to Garrus, her hand on his forearm. “I need to go update Hackett. But can we talk soon?” she asked softly, starting a flurry of nervous flutters through Garrus’ chest and stomach.

He nodded. “Come find me when you’re done.”

She left to get out of her armor before her meeting with the admiral. Watching her leave, he fantasized briefly about following her, getting reacquainted with her body as he removed her armor, piece by piece, exploring every mammalian curve of her form with his tongue. Pressing her against the lockers as the heat of her biotics pulled him into her. But he had duties to attend to as well. 

The new Primarch was uneasy. Garrus could hear it in the tight flange of his subvocals. He was a general, a veteran of the first contact wars, now forced to play diplomat aboard a human vessel while his men fought and died on the front lines. And it probably didn’t help that he was in the uncomfortable position of relying on a human, thirty years his junior, to make a long-shot alliance between the krogan and turians work. 

While the Normandy specialist was getting the Primarch’s team set up, Victus signaled Garrus to join him at the war table. “Garrus, be straight with me,” he started. “Shepard. Is she going to follow through?”

Garrus didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. If it's possible, Shepard will get it done… And if it's impossible ? I'd still put the odds in her favor.”

“Hmm,” Victus growled. “And is this your opinion as a soldier or a man in love?”

Garrus folded his arms, perturbed at the suggestion that love had blinded him. “Take your pick. No one knows the way Shepard works or what she's capable of better than I do,” he said firmly. “She's an unparalleled soldier, the best leader I've served with, and one hell of a negotiator. More importantly, she knows what we're up against better than anyone, and she'll do whatever needs to be done, whether across a conference table or on the battlefield, to defeat the Reapers. Sir.”

Victus chuckled. “At ease, Vakarian. She sounds like exactly who we need. But everyone has their weaknesses, and I can't trust an ally unless I know what their weaknesses are.”

“I can understand that, Sir.”

“I wish I had the time to get to know her weaknesses myself, but I don’t have that luxury. I just have you,” he said, nodding toward Garrus. “You say you know her better than anyone, so let's hear it.”

Garrus leaned forward against the war table. He could understand where Victus was coming from. The Commander Shepard was a fiction, and that’s the face she wore for most people. Victus was intuitive enough to recognize that there was more to her than met the eye, but without the luxury of time to plumb the depths of her character, he couldn’t trust that her unseen flaws wouldn’t be a liability for their alliance.

Garrus looked off toward the comm room where she was, hoping that lending Victus his insight wouldn’t be seen as disloyalty. The Primarch’s request was fair. Afterall, Shepard would no doubt ask for his insight into Victus’ character once they had a moment alone. He straightened up and faced Victus. “Shepard doesn’t have the usual calluses of a seasoned soldier, Sir. She’ll have a hard time with the casualties of a war of this scale. Human, Turian, Krogan, even Batarian. She'll feel it all.”

Victus narrowed his eyes critically. “Can you elaborate?”

“Shepard always tries to save everyone. Succeeds more often than seems possible, usually by taking crazy personal risks. But when she can't… it eats at her.” The casualties of this war were already eating at her, though he wouldn’t say that to Victus. He had seen it in her on Menae. The strain underneath her voice. The tensed muscles of her neck. The heat of her biotics. The harrowed look in her eyes. Shepard was hurting.

Victus shook his head. “That's a hell of a weakness in times such as these, Garrus…. I know you admire her, but a person like that won't be able to make the tough calls that are necessary in war. They'd break.”

“Not Shepard,” Garrus said with a hint of anger that Victus had dared to suggest that Shepard breaking was an inevitability. It wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.

“You're sure of that?” Victus asked skeptically.

“Absolutely. She spent the last six months in Alliance detention for buying us time to prepare for the Reapers at the expense of more than 300,000 Batarian lives. She’s proven she can make the tough calls. And she hasn't crumbled yet.”

“But you're concerned enough that you brought it up.”

“You asked for a weakness, Sir. I gave you one…I don't mean to imply she's made of glass. Not by a long shot... And my concern isn't for her ability to complete the mission. Like I said, if it's remotely possible, she'll get it done.” He shook his head as the real fear of what this war might do to Shepard slithered from the pit of his stomach to the front of his mind. “But she has limits. And an extended campaign if the Prothean device doesn't pan out or if the Alliance overextends her… loss after loss after loss without reprieve... it will take a toll on Shepard. She's our best resource for building a force to fight the Reapers, but she's not an inexhaustible resource. And I for one would like to see her make it to the other side of this.”

Victus’ mandibles fanned out as he considered Garrus. “Ah,” he said good-naturedly, “the opinion of a man in love.”

“Yes... Sorry, Sir.”

“No apologies needed. We all have our reasons to stay in the fight. Love is a fine one.”

“She also pushes her barriers too damn far,” Garrus added.

Victus chuckled.

When Garrus entered the gun battery, he found Liara there waiting for him.

“Garrus,” she said tensely as the door closed behind him.

“Hey, Liara. Good to see you back on the Normandy.”

“You too. I know Shepard is very grateful to have you here.” She smirked. “I'm sure she's eager to have a moment alone with you to tell you exactly how grateful. She was worried about you when we saw Palaven.”

“Yeah,” he said, thinking of his own worry. “When I heard the news from Earth, I wasn't sure if…” He still couldn’t say it. “I'm just glad she got out okay… or got out alive , anyway.”

“You're concerned about her?” Liara asked.

He nodded. “I'm seeing some wear and tear... Skills as sharp as ever, though. Sharper even. Just…” he sighed, “it's like she's already carrying the weight of all those lives. And I wish Hackett wasn’t putting so much on her.”

“Yes, I see it too,” Liara said, fidgeting. “Kaidan was hurt on the Mars mission.”

“Kaidan?” He was surprised to hear his name. “Is it bad?”

Liara nodded. “He was unconscious, in critical condition. Shepard was quick to act in the field. She shot down the mech that had attacked him, rushed him to sickbay, placed him on the biobed… But once everything was still, she stood there looking down at him, and... it was like she went blank. Taken over by grief or guilt or fear... Hopeless. Overwhelmed… Paralyzed.” She shook her head. “I had to shout to shake her out of it.”

He looked down, feeling the impact of Liara’s concerns. It had been just a moment. A bad moment, maybe, but it had passed. Shepard was not breaking. She couldn’t.

“Garrus,” Liara continued, “I've always thought of Shepard's empathy as her most defining quality. It makes her so much more than just a soldier. It drives her to do incredible things for the sake of protecting others and forging peace. It's the source of that spark that makes others willing to follow her against impossible odds.” She blushed. “It's why I love her… But for the first time, I fear that trait may be a liability. The trillions of lives that are depending on her… it may be too great a burden for her to bear.”

“She doesn't have a choice,” he said, wishing for all the universe that it didn’t have to be her carrying all of this. But though he shared Liara’s fears, he couldn’t give them credence. “Look, Liara, we’re all adjusting to the war. The losses, the fear, the pressure. Shepard included. And she’s carrying more weight than any of us, so it makes sense that she might buckle under it a bit now and then….” He fixed Liara with a steady gaze. “But we'll be here to help her carry it… No matter what, I won't let Shepard be crushed under this.”

Chapter Text

When at last Garrus heard the door of the battery open to her, his pulse quickened. “Have any trouble tracking me down?” he called out without looking up from his work on the gun battery; he’d been waiting for awhile.

She was smirking as she walked along the cannon barrel toward him. “You’re joking, right? With a mean new gun just waiting to be calibrated? Where else could you possibly be?”

He laughed and patted the cannon casing. “I had to make sure the old girl was still in fighting form. You can never be too careful after a refit.”

“And does she meet with your approval?”

He stepped back and nodded. “Just about. I’ll need to--”

“Calibrate?” she offered.

He laughed again. “Yeah.”

Shepard stepped closer. “Should I leave you to it, then?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows, “Or can you spare a little time to talk?”

He closed the side panel on the cannon and faced her, nerves buzzing. “I’m all yours, Shepard.”

“Are you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “Because with that handshake on Menae… I wasn’t exactly sure where you stood in terms of ‘us.’”

Had he assumed too much or too little by taking her hand so familiarly, he wondered. “Well,” he said, keeping his tone light, “what I really wanted to do to you probably would have skirted protocol. And with six months out of contact, I wasn’t sure if you even still felt the same way about me …. The scars are starting to fade. I know how they used to drive you wild. But I can go out and get brand new ones if it will help .” He teased, giving her a chance to break his heart with a smile. Let her joke that she’d found a krogan to satisfy her scar fetish. Let her say he was a hell of a lot easier to look at when there were bandages covering half his face. If their ending could be a joke, he told himself, he could take it. Just laugh through it. Her smile could carry him to the other side. 

She did laugh, and his breath held ready in his chest. “ Please don't go out and get more scars,” she pleaded, shaking her head. “Remember, I'm the one who had to drag your ass back to the ship the last time. Turns out you turians aren't as lightweight as you look.” She rubbed her shoulder as though remembering the strain of carrying him.

His mandibles flared, enjoying how easy it felt to slip into banter with her, as though the last six months were just a bad dream. “Well,” he said, “when you add the heavy armor and big guns…”

Shepard stepped in close to him, and all the teasing words melted like sugar on his tongue. She reached up, and gently stroked the remaining scars on his face. Everything seemed to go soft and hazy as that intimate, familiar touch explored the changes in his face. Her thumb traced his mouth; her fingertips glided over his mandible and jaw, then down the muscles of his neck before she let her hand drop. She frowned, pretending to consider her options. “I guess I can work with this,” she said at last, with a shrug and a playful half smirk.  “I'm still your girl, Garrus, no additional scars required…. Assuming, you're game to pick things up where we left off, that is.”

He laughed at the absurdity of her thinking there was any room for doubt. “Are you kidding?” He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. “The champagne never left ice.”

Shepard smiled brightly. “So, how about a reunion do-over. If there hadn’t been a platoon of soldiers watching us, and you’d been sure of how I felt… Why don’t you show me exactly what it was you wanted to do to me back on Menae?”

He coughed nervously. “Well, I've been doing some research on human customs…. I didn't want to…. presume anything, but --”

“Did it go something like this?” she asked, taking hold of the collar of his armor. Shepard stood on the balls of her feet, and he leaned in to meet her. Instead of a kiss, as he’d expected, she began with a very turian nuzzle into his neck while her left hand caressed his jaw and teased the nerves beneath his ear. She pulled back for a moment to look up at his face before closing her eyes and pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth for a tender kiss. His eyes closed too as she continued planting slow, soft kisses around his mouth. He felt the gentle heat of her biotics begin to hum against him and thought of all the hundreds of times he’d imagined being with her like this again. Garrus pressed his forehead to hers, his hands below her hips. Then he lifted her off her feet, as he’d seen in the human vids, so he was looking up at her smiling face instead of down. Their mouths met again, her dark energy swirling against his tongue.

When the kiss parted, he lowered Shepard to her feet. “That was…” he said, his voice hungry for more of her. But more would come another time, so he cleared his throat and took her hands in his. “ The vids suggested it might go something like that. I had hoped it would …. I mean , after the talk we’d had before you left, I didn't know …”

“I might have done some hoping of my own,” she responded, looking down at their hands as her thumbs glided back and forth over his knuckles. “No matter what I said when we parted ways, I would have been pretty broken up about it if you had moved on.” Her eyes returned to his face. “Thanks for ignoring me when I told you not to wait for me.”

“Well, generally your orders are pretty well thought out. But that one was…” he shook his head, “just really really stupid.”

She laughed. “That's fair…. I’ll excuse the insubordinance just this once.”

“I appreciate that.”

“ I've missed you, Garrus. I thought about you a lot .”

“ Good to know my romantic… uh… ‘skills’ left an impression. Because it's going to take more than Reapers to come between this cross-species liaison .”

Chapter Text

He entered Shepard’s quarters to find her sitting at her desk, working. It was a familiar scene. Comfortable. And when Shepard looked over her shoulder at him with that subtle smile he loved so much, Garrus felt like he’d come home at last. “Is this a good time for some… catching up?” he asked, holding up the bottle of champagne he’d been saving. 

Shepard swiveled in her chair and nodded. “I can make time for you.” 

She stood up and reached for the glasses on the shelf, but he caught her first, pulled her into him from behind, his fingers spreading against her abdomen. Garrus released a blissful sigh as he held her close and she leaned into him. “It feels good to be back here,” he said, nuzzling into her hair. “Right where I belong.”

Shepard turned in his embrace to face him, smiling, and playfully squeezed his rear with both of her hands. “Damn straight!” She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before resuming the task of getting glasses. 

Garrus popped the bottle of champagne on his way down the stairs, Shepard following behind. She set the glasses on the coffee table, and they both took a seat. Garrus poured them each a glass, and handed one to Shepard before raising his for the toast he’d planned. But Shepard beat him to it. “To being back where we belong,” she said with her free hand on his knee.

“And to not moving on for anything,” he added. They clinked their glasses together and kept eye contact as they each took a sip.

Shepard raised her eyebrows and looked at her glass, surprised. “Not bad, Garrus! I hope you aren't breaking the bank to impress me?”

“ One of the perks of being an expert Reaper advisor: I can afford the good stuff now .”

She took another sip and leaned back. “Judging by who was saluting you on Menae, I think an expert Reaper advisor might outrank a commander. You wanna take the helm this go-around? Give me a break?”

“Ha! Do you think you could handle taking orders from me?”

She smirked. “Uh… Sure.”

“Liar.”

She laughed. “I could do it… right up until the first time you told me to ‘stay down’ or ‘fall back’ or ‘watch your damn barriers!’"

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he said, fondly tucking a curl behind her ear.

She smiled brightly.

He leaned back and put his arm around her shoulders. “Probably better to keep the chain of command the way it is, avoid rocking the boat,” he joked. “Besides, I don't have your diplomatic charm. There's no way I could convince the Krogan to support our efforts on Palaven. You , on the other hand, might actually have a shot at making this work.”

Shepard’s smile lost some of its light at his words. “I guess we'll find out just how effective my particular style of diplomacy can be,” she said with more gravity than he’d expected. 

He squeezed her shoulder. “Well, if your faith in yourself is wavering, you can always borrow mine. If it's possible to make a deal with the Krogan, I know you'll get it done.” 

She snorted mirthlessly. “And if I don't, my boyfriend loses his homeworld and family. No pressure, right?”

He shook his head and his chest tightened at the thought that he’d added anything to the mountain of pressure that already weighed on her. “Shepard, If things go south, I'll be blaming the Reapers, the politicians, and all the people who didn't listen to your years of warnings. Never you.”

She smiled weakly. “Thanks.” She took a deep breath as she leaned forward and set her glass on the table. She pivoted to face him, her expression serious and concerned. “Garrus… Back on Menae… you told Vega that your father and sister were still on Palaven. Have you heard from them?

He sighed and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“And your mom?” her tone suggested she suspected his answer.

Garrus looked ahead at the bubbling water of the empty fish tank. “She died a few months ago.”

Shepard’s hand rested sympathetically on his arm. “Oh Garrus. I'm so sorry.”

He met her gaze. “Don't be. I got to say goodbye while she was still lucid enough to recognize me. And she was spared spending her final days watching her planet burn.”

“Still, it can't have been easy.” She frowned. “I wish I could have been there for you while you were going through it.”

So did he. “It’s not like you had a choice. You were a little tied up at the time.”

“Well, I'm here now, if you'd like to talk about it,” she said, squeezing his arm.

He placed his hand over hers. “I appreciate that, but I'm okay.” His grief over the loss of his mother felt old and distant with all that had happened in the last few days; there were other concerns that weighed more heavily on him now.

She squeezed his arm again before releasing him, letting him leave the memory of his mother to rest. “You must be worried about your dad and sister,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied heavily. “What about Curtis? Have you heard from him?”

She nodded. “I got word just after we left for Palaven. He was on his way back from Arcturus when the Reapers hit. Narrowly missed being caught in either attack. He's with Hackett's team now, working on the Prothean device.”

Garrus let out a relieved sigh. “Damn lucky.”

“No kidding. Arcturus and Alliance R&D were both totally obliterated. If he hadn't been en route, he wouldn't have had a chance.”

“I'm glad he's okay.”

“Yeah. It was hell leaving Earth, not knowing where he was. On Mars, my mind was going a dozen different directions.” She shook her head. “I'd never felt so unfocused on a mission before.”

Garrus searched her face. “Liara told me about Mars. About Kaidan.”

Her gaze drifted and she frowned. “Yeah… He's in pretty bad shape. His doctors are optimistic, though.”

“How are you doing with it?”

She began to fidget with her hands. “It never gets easier, seeing people get hurt under my command.”

He nodded. “Sure. But there's a history there too. Good and bad. That’s got to be complicating things.”

She cringed. “It wasn't the most… comfortable mission I've been on. Kaidan spent the whole time we were on Mars questioning my loyalties, doubting me, dredging up the past, like he was half expecting me to put a bullet in his back.” She shook her head. “And then he got hurt protecting me. Put himself right in between me and a Cerberus mech that was trying to take me out while my back was turned.”

“I'm glad he was there, then,” he said, grateful that it was Kaidan in the hospital instead of Shepard. “Maybe seeing you fight Cerberus made him rethink some things finally.... About damn time.”

“Maybe,” she said, looking down at her hands. “I hope so. It would be great to have him back on the Normandy. Or at least to know he doesn't believe the worst of me.” A slight flush to Shepard’s cheek put Garrus on guard.

“Are you catching some old feelings for him?” he asked gently. It wasn’t an accusation, but Garrus couldn’t help but be unsettled by Kaidan’s return to Shepard’s life.

She shrugged. “A bit. Nothing serious, just…I don't know…echoes.”

“Shepard… if it's more than that, no one would blame you.” 

Shepard leaned her head against his arm. “You have nothing to worry about, Garrus,” she said, and he believed her. “It wasn't Kaidan I was thinking about when I was locked up all these months. I was thinking of you , missing you .”

He pulled her in close and nuzzled into her hair. “Me too. I tried to see you a couple times. But Anderson wouldn't let me pass.”

She smiled. “I know; he told me. He also told me every time they stopped a message from you from going through.”

“Yeah, I figured they probably weren't getting through…”

“It meant a lot just knowing you were thinking of me. Anderson couldn’t tell me what they said.” She smirked. “I made him promise they weren't ‘Dear John’ letters, though.”

“Dear who?” Had Shepard mentioned John before? 

“Sorry. A human expression. A breakup message.”

He snorted. “Not a chance. I'll resend them to you so you can read them, if you like. Not poetry or anything.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Just reminders that someone on Palaven wasn't moving on for anything.” He shook his head remembering the last letter he’d sent her. “When the news came in that the Reapers had hit Alliance HQ on Earth… It was like when the Normandy went down, or you were out of contact in the Bahak system or at Atlas Station. I was stuck, thinking I might have lost you, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.”

She frowned. “I felt the same when we saw Palaven.… I think I was less worried when the Reapers were firing directly at me.”

He tensed. “Directly at you? Tell me you’re exaggerating.”

She sighed. “Sure looked that way. Their first strike on Earth was a particle beam right through the window of the room where I was standing.”

 Garrus looked away, his throat almost too tight to speak. “Maybe don't tell me these things.”

She looked up at him and winced. “Sorry. I'm sure it was just a coincidence.”

“Right… Because the Reapers have never gone after you personally before.”

“They do seem to be a bit on the obsessed side,” she joked with a chuckle. “It’s almost flattering.”

Garrus wasn’t feeling the humor. “You know, having an entire race of giant genocidal machines specifically gunning for my girlfriend, nevermind a pissed off terrorist organization, and a bunch of Batarians with an axe to grind…. This is the sort of thing that keeps me up at night.”

Shepard turned to him and reached out her hand to caress the side of his face. “Hey,” she said in the same tone he remembered his mother using in his childhood when she’d wake him up from a nightmare. “I'm still here.”

He tilted her chin up and kissed her. “Let's keep it that way, okay? And no more facing Reapers without me. I feel a lot more comfortable about you jumping into hell when I have your six.”

She smiled. “You know, speaking of having my six, I never got to thank you for speaking at my trial. It meant a lot to me.”

He shrugged. “All I did was tell the truth.”

“I know. If I'd thought you were just bullshitting to get me off, it wouldn't have meant much. But knowing you believed what you said.” She let out a trembling exhale. “I'm not sure I could have gotten through the trial without you.”

He hugged her to his chest, so damn happy that those days were behind them. “I'm sorry I couldn't do more…. The prosecution was brutal. It can't have been easy for you.” he shook his head. “I know it was hell for me.”

She sniffed. “It was rough. Being powerless… alone. Day after day hearing people call me a traitor and terrorist, an imposter, unstable, genocidal.... Things got pretty dark.” She lifted her head and smiled at him with tear-filled eyes. “But seeing you in court was like a bright light on the horizon, reminding me that the dawn would come again.” She shrugged. “Granted, I would have preferred that the dawn had come with fewer Reapers.”

He wiped a gathering tear from the corner of her eye. “ That dawn is still up ahead. We'll get there.”

Chapter Text

Just some emails I sent while you were in lock up. I can’t tell you how great it feels to be back at your side. For good this time. -Garrus

Shepard,

Just getting settled back on Palavin. Family tensions are a challenge. My sister is angry. My father is… I don't know… disappointed. My mother doesn't recognize me half of the time. I don't know how to talk to them any more. Maybe I never did.

I've seen the news that the Alliance has you in lock up, pending a trial on the Citadel. Probably a good move on the part of the Alliance, and I don’t see the Council extraditing to the Batarians. But the Citadel will give the Batarians much easier access to you. I don’t suppose the Alliance would agree to let me be your bodyguard through all of this.

Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten why I’m on Palaven. I have a plan to get the attention of the Primarch. It involves actually getting my father to listen to me. No easy task, but I'm determined not to let you down.

I hope you're holding up okay. I wish I could be there with you.

-Garrus

Shepard,

I just got a request from your advocate to be a witness for your defense. I've already booked my trip to the Citadel. I know I could do this through a comm relay, but on the off chance they'll let me visit you, it will be worth the trip. Damn it, even just seeing you from the stand will be worth it.  

I’ve been making calls to my contacts in C-Sec. I want to know you’ll be safe.

-Garrus

Shepard,

Damn it. An assassination attempt? I know it’s not the first bullet you’ve taken, but usually you’re armed when people start firing you. I hate this. I really hate this.

In other news, I had a talk with my father, laid out all the evidence. And he listened. Really listened. I don't know what he's going to do about it, but he said we have his support, and he's going to talk to some of his contacts in the Primacy. I'm actually optimistic that something might come of this.

In the mean time, I need to make some more calls to C-Sec about how the hell they let an assassin get through to you. And to whoever in the Alliance is responsible for screening Shepard’s messages, I’d appreciate it if you could have the head of Shepard’s security give me a call.

-Garrus

Shepard,

I've been watching the trial on the extranet. The prosecution has been brutal, but there's no way they'll extradite. Not after all you've done. Stay strong. I'll be there soon.

-Garrus

Shepard,

I tried to visit you today, but they won't let me through the door. At least I got to see you in court. Hard to be so close but not be able to touch or talk to you, though. I miss you, Shepard.

Anderson mentioned you're having a rough time. Whatever they throw at you, just remember there are a lot of us out here who see through the political bullshit. You have a lot of friends who care about you, even if the damned Alliance doesn’t let any of us get a message through.

I know Kaidan takes the stand tomorrow. I'll be sitting nearby. Look for me if you need a friendly face.

-Garrus

Shepard,

I spilled Kaidan’s coffee. Also I shoved him into a wall. And I might have bruised his trachea. I don’t know. He’ll be fine. Probably not what you would have done, but he deserved much worse than I gave him. He's dead wrong about you, Shepard. Damn it I wish they’d let me talk to you.

-Garrus

Shepard,

You were damn impressive on the stand today. I'll stick around for the verdict. I'm hoping once this is over they'll let me see you.

-Garrus

Shepard,

Five years. I could really use some Reapers to shoot right about now. Your sentence is just political. I'm sure Anderson told you that. Keeping you in lockup is supposed to keep you safe from the Batarians and Cerberus. But I'm pretty sure you and I could manage that on our own. And I'd trust my aim over some Alliance guard any day.

I tried to see you again, but they still won't allow it due to my past "affiliation" with Cerberus. They want you looking above reproach once your time is served so they can make a strong case for reinstatement when they need you to kill all the Reapers for them again.

I don't like it, but it doesn't change anything on my end. I'm not moving on.

-Garrus

Shepard,

I just got back to Palaven. And my dad was busy while I was away. I’ll give you more details soon.

-Garrus

Shepard,

I heard the news that Anderson resigned from the Council. Udina is a slime, but with Anderson and Hackett both pushing the Alliance to prepare for the Reapers, maybe your people will make some headway.

-Garrus

Shepard,

My father and I are meeting with the Primarch about the Reaper threat later this week. We've been working together on our case. Honestly, it's the best we've gotten along in twenty years.

Also, I've told my family about you. About us. My father is tolerating it, I guess. But he's still hoping I'll get you out of my system (I won't). My mother doesn't understand that you're not turian, but she's very happy that I found someone I care about.

-Garrus

Shepard,

Meeting with the Primarch didn't go as well as I'd hoped. We're not giving up, though. Eventually he'll give ground, if for no other reason than to shut us up. (Taking a page out of your book.)

My mother took a turn for the worse. Won't be long now. I wish you were here. I wish she could meet you. 

-Garrus

Shepard,

My mom died yesterday. I don't know what to say about it. It hurts.

I miss you.

-Garrus

Shepard,

The Primarch caved. I've been named an "expert Reaper advisor" and given some token resources. It's not as much as we need, but my father thinks it's the most we'll get. Hopefully I can make a difference with this.

At least it will keep me busy so I have less time to "moon over Shepard," as my father put it. Jokes on him; I'm perfectly capable of mooning over you and working at the same time. Years of practice.

-Garrus

Shepard,

I met with the top brass in the turian military today. And let’s just say they’re taking our evidence of the Reapers a little more seriously than the Primarch did. I’m actually feeling optimistic. I wish you could know that I’m not letting you down this time. 

I know they aren’t letting these messages through to you. There’s not any real point in my continuing to send them. But, damn it, I just need something of you to hold on to. All I’ve got is this and the Reapers.

-Garrus

Shepard,

Sorry my last message got a little heavy. Or I would be sorry if I thought you were actually getting these messages. I know none of this is easy on you either. All you have to do every day is wait for the apocalypse to begin. At least I can do something. And I am. When the Reapers land on our doorstep, and you’re exonerated, we’ll have a fighting chance. Together.

-Garrus

Shepard,

It’s been awhile since my last message, but I promise I’m still with you. Things have been busy since the military got behind me. Particularly, since I got the support of General Victus. You might know his name from the First Contact War. He’s one of our top Generals. And despite being on the unconventional side, his position in the Meritocracy gives him a lot of pull. We’re running fleet-wide preparedness drills and we’ve got some special protocols in place that will help with continuity of operations in the event of Reaper invasion and will help us mount resistance on the ground. You’d be impressed. I hope your Alliance is doing as much.  

-Garrus

Whoever intercepts this message,

Please, just tell me if Shepard made it out. Please. I need to know.

-Garrus Vakarian

Chapter Text

Garrus took a deep breath as he looked at Kaidan’s hospital room door. Shepard had suggested that it might make things easier if they buried the hatchet. “I get why you did it. Believe me,” she’d said when she learned about his altercation with Kaidan during her trial. “But it’s time to put old feuds aside and focus on the Reapers. Everything else is just a distraction.” In theory, he agreed with her. If Shepard had been able to forgive Kaidan, why should Garrus hold onto his grudge? And Kaidan had gotten hurt protecting Shepard on Mars. That counted for a lot. It was enough to get Garrus in a room with him, at least. So he opened the door and stepped in.

Kaidan was in bed, looking pretty rough. When he turned to see Garrus enter, the muscles of his neck tensed. “Garrus,” he said, his tone a blend of unease and anger that Garrus could relate to.

“Hey, Kaidan,” Garrus said, doing his best to sound affable. “It’s… been a while.”

Kaidan raised his eyebrows expectantly, probably wondering if Garrus was here to go another round.

“Glad to hear you're gonna pull through.”

“Yeah... Thanks.” His nostrils flared. “I take it you're… uh… back on the Normandy?”

Garrus nodded. “Nowhere I'd rather be.”

He sighed and looked away. “That's...uh… That's good.… I'm sure Shepard could use the help.”

Garrus nodded. “We could use yours too, once you're back on your feet…. Shepard told me about Mars. I'm glad you were there to watch her back.”

Kaidan looked at him, his eyebrow cocked. “Yeah? Despite everything?”

Garrus took a deep breath, steeling his resolve to put their conflict to rest. “Despite everything. If Shepard wants to let bygones be bygones… well… I’m willing to follow her lead. We have bigger things to worry about, after all. As far as I'm concerned, it's all in the past.” He reached out a hand to shake on it.

Kaidan looked at Garrus’ hand and crossed his arms. “In the past. Right.” His tone was sharp. He looked at Garrus’ face and narrowed his eyes. “What about you and Shepard? Is your… what?… fling? ‘in the past’ too?”

Garrus retracted his hand as the real reason for Kaidan’s anger dawned on him. “Our ‘fling’ huh? Why? Are you looking to unburn some bridges there, Alenko?”

Kaidan shrugged. “Maybe. Things were rough between us on Mars. But… I don't know… I still care about her. I’m not sure how she feels.”

Garrus took a seat at Kaidan’s side. “I have to say, I’m surprised, Kaidan. As far as I knew, you’d spent the better part of the last year thinking that Shepard was a Cerberus pawn.”

 He shook his head. “I… I know. With Horizon... and the trial… I'll admit there's a lot to forgive on her end. And as for me… well…” he fixed Garrus with a glare, “I'm not exactly enjoying the thought of her cheating with you.”

Garrus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “ Cheating ? Kaidan, you can't be serious.” The accusation might have made him angry if it hadn’t been so completely absurd. “I'll admit I'm not personally familiar with human customs regarding breakups, but I'm pretty sure calling your girlfriend a traitor and a terrorist releases her from any assumed obligation to you.”

Kaidan flushed. “Alright. Fair enough. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have. I was wrong about her. And I can't blame her for feeling... thrown… and turning elsewhere for comfort.” Again his nostrils flared as he looked into Garrus’ eyes. “But what's your excuse?”

Garrus scoffed. “I… uh… wasn't aware I needed one.”

Kaidan tensed his jaw and shook his head. “You and I were friends. At least I thought we were. You don't think you owed me… I don't know… at least a heads up before you swooped in?”

“ Swooped in ?” Garrus asked, baffled. 

“Come on, Garrus. Cut the BS. You took advantage of the situation the second things got rough between me and Shepard… You waited until she was vulnerable, cut off from friends and loved ones, to make your play. Offered her a nice, comforting shoulder just when she had nowhere else to turn.” His lip curled in disgust. “Tell me, how drunk was Shepard when you managed to convince her to take a turian to bed?”

Garrus stood up and leaned in, Gritting his teeth against the urge to pick up the nearby bedpan and smash Kaidan over the head with it. “You're treading on dangerous ground, Kaidan,” he said in a low voice, his subvocals growling a warning underneath. “I can understand a little jealousy, but what you're implying crosses the damn line.”

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” he asked with a shrug. “The timing of it all… you have to admit, it looks bad. Don't you think you owe me an explanation at least?”

He shook his head and waved Kaidan off. “I don't owe you a damn thing, Alenko. My relationship with Shepard has nothing to do with you.” Garrus headed toward the door, knowing he needed to leave before Kaidan wore through the precarity of his self control.

“Understood,” Kaidan said, his tone fuming. “But it is over between you two, right?”

Garrus laughed, and turned halfway toward Kaidan, looking down the line of his shoulder. “Like I said, I'm not personally familiar with human breakup customs.” He turned back toward the door. “Take care, Kaidan. I'll be busy trying to forget what a colossal ass you can be.”

Chapter Text

Garrus and Shepard entered the armory and began their usual routine. Shepard handed Garrus her guns; he handed her his helmet. While he did routine maintenance on their guns and returned the guns to the weapons lockers, she’d get out of her armor. By the time he would return to her, she’d be down to the tight-clinging garments she wore underneath her armor. It had been over six months, but after hundreds of repetitions he didn’t have to look to know exactly when she’d be removing her left boot, and setting it in its place. In a moment she’d be closing the locker, and he could come up from behind and nuzzle into her neck, invite her to blow off some of that post-battle adrenaline with him. But when he turned around Vega was standing between them, arms crossed, watching Shepard as she put her armor away.

“You kicked ass out there, Lola,” Vega said. It wasn’t the first time Garrus had heard him use the nickname. He hadn’t previously thought much of it. But here in that tone, with the way his eyes lingered on Shepard’s form, leaning back with his pelvis angled toward her, it sounded flirtatious.

Shepard smiled without looking at him, seemingly unaware of the subtext of his compliment. “Thanks, Lieutenant. You too.”

Vega gave Shepard one more blatant up and down look, before biting his lower lip, shaking his head, and walking past Garrus toward the exit. Once the Lieutenant was gone, Garrus approached Shepard, though not in the way he had originally planned. He leaned sideways against the locker next to hers, just as she closed her own locker and smiled at him with all the radiance of victory still shining through her dewy skin.

“You feel like joining me in the shower, hot stuff?” she asked. “Ever since Jack mentioned you biting me, I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

“Absolutely,” he said, appreciating the mental image of him gently nibbling his way down her water-slicked body. “But first... should I be concerned about the large marine who's been following you around like an imprinted varen puppy?”

She laughed. “Who? Vega? Why would you worry about him?”

“Uh… ‘Lola?’” Did she really not see it?

She waved him off. “He's just flirting. It doesn't mean anything.”

Garrus shook his head, perturbed. “Sorry, I know I’m new to human mating rituals, but how does flirting mean nothing?”

“Okay, it doesn’t mean nothing ,” she granted, “but it’s not what you’re thinking. Human men sometimes have a hard time handling feeling intimidated by me. Especially young guys like Vega. So they flirt or talk about me in the locker room. It’s just bullshit macho crap.”

“And you’re okay with that?” he asked, surprised that she could be so easy going about it.

“The macho crap is tiresome, but it runs pretty deep in military culture. And the locker room crap is out of my control.” She shrugged, “The flirting doesn’t bother me, but he knows I’ll put him in his place if he crosses the line.”

“Why put up with it all?”

“Giving him a little latitude with the flirting puts him at ease with me, let’s him humanize me so he sees a person instead of a legend.”

Garrus looked at her doubtfully, wondering if she’d noticed the way Vega ogled her. 

“Garrus, it’s not sincere. If he thought for even a second that he actually had a chance with me, he'd turn into a stammering puddle of jelly and blush so hot he'd set off the Normandy's fire suppression system.”

“Hmm. I seem to recall turning into a stammering puddle of jelly at your feet once or twice.”

She laughed. “Trust me, he's harmless.”

“No one that big can be harmless,” he teased as he looked off in the direction James had gone. “If I bumped into him in the dark I'd mistake him for a Krogan. Or the bulkhead.”

“Well, he did stop several Batarian and Cerberus assassination attempts while I was in lock up. Once he choked out a Batarian who came after me. So all that bulk is good for something, at least.”

Something twisted in Garrus at the thought. “Really.”

“Uh huh, he was the head of my security detail and my personal guard for the last six months.” 

The memory clicked into place of a large guard holding Garrus at bay when he’d tried to push his way through the crowd to Shepard on the Citadel. The thought of Vega being one of the people standing between him and Shepard all those months needled him. “Well,” Garrus said, recognizing the uncomfortable feeling that continued to twist inside him. “Now I am a little jealous.”

Shepard smiled sympathetically and put her hand on the side of his face. “Aw, sweetie. Would it make you more comfortable if I told Vega to cool it with the flirting?”

“Nah. The flirting is fine if you’re really okay with it. But thinking of him getting to see you every day, being the one watching your back…”

Shepard’s brow knit. “Garrus,” she said seriously, “ nothing happened between me and James. Nothing will ever happen between me and James.”

He put his hand over hers. “I know, Shepard. I trust you…. It’s just… I might have fantasized about being your personal guard… a few times.”

Her expression shifted to a teasing smile. “Oh yeah?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yeah… First I guard your door, stopping assassination attempts... for which you are grateful…. Then I break you out of prison, and we run away together.”

She laced her fingers behind his neck. “For which I was no doubt very grateful.”

He pulled her into him. “Very.”

“You'll have to fill me in on the details of that fantasy sometime,” she said, tilting her head. “We might be able to arrange a little private enactment.”

“Damn, I've missed you,” he said before leaning in to kiss her.

Garrus put his frozen detro-ration into the microwave and inputted the cook time. Next to him James was stirring some Earth vegetables and meat in a sizzling pan, humming to himself. James turned his head to look at Garrus and smirked. “So… you and the Commander, huh?” he said, his tone teasing and suggestive.

“Mmhmm,” Garrus said, watching his meal spin slowly as it cooked. Despite their discretion around the crew, everyone seemed to be aware of his relationship with Shepard. Garrus suspected Joker was to blame.

“What's that like?” he asked. “Gotta be hard. With Shepard being… you know.”

“Human?” Was he actually asking for intimate details about cross-species intercourse? “Uh… not sure what exactly you're asking here, Vega… But there are human-turian fetish vids that could fill you in. Joker could give you some titles.”

He laughed. “Oh! Ha! Yeah, sorry…. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm curious. But, no. I meant going into battle with someone you care about like that. And Shepard being completely loco . It’s gotta be hard focusing on the mission, knowing that any hit she takes could be the one that does her in.”

“I make sure that doesn't happen,” he said firmly. “Protecting Shepard is the mission. Always. Any other objective is secondary.”

James looked down at his food and resumed stirring. “Don't take this the wrong way, Scars, but isn't that an unusual mindset for a turian? Your people are all about duty and mission first.”

“Sure. But if Shepard dies the entire galaxy is screwed. So my mission is to keep her alive so she can fulfill her mission.” There were, of course, other more personal motives at play in his investment in keeping Shepard safe, but those went without saying.

James nodded. “Okay. But what about when she orders you to pursue a different objective? Like to hold a position while she goes off and does something loco.”

Garrus sighed. “Yeah, that's always tough. But as long as I'm on the ground with her, I can do something to keep her safer. That can mean holding a position so she has a place to fall back to, or keeping reinforcements from moving in behind her, or splitting up so she doesn't have to do something even crazier than usual to try to meet multiple objectives.” Garrus shook his head. “The worst is when she leaves me behind on the ship or orders me to safety or circumstance separates us.”

“Yeah, I'll bet. What then?”

Garrus shrugged. “Then I don't have to focus. I can just sit back, tune my omni tool to my favorite comm channel, and worry.”

James shook his head. “ Dios… I don't think I could do it, man. I mean, I get the appeal. Shepard is smoking , and watching her fight…” he whistled.

Garrus crossed his arms and glared at Vega. “Uh huh.”

He laughed. “Sorry, Scars. I just mean, no matter how sexy Shepard is, taking on all that stress? No thank you. Better to keep things light.”

“Never been in love, have you Vega?”

James took the pan off the stove and set down his spatula on a plate. “For real? No. Never seemed worth the hassle. Especially in this line of work.”

Garrus rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember what it was like to not worry constantly about Shepard. He’d certainly slept more easily at night before he’d met her. But looking back, those years seemed so empty. All he’d had in his life then was his work, a few casual friendships, and the rare one-night stand. “I get where you’re coming from, Vega. Worrying about Shepard is probably taking years off my life…. It’s pretty damn nice having someone worth worrying over, though.”

Chapter Text

They were pinned down. Garrus crouched behind a barricade with Vega, and Shepard, five meters away, was leaning behind a stack of cargo crates. Cerberus turrets were laying down heavy fire, and smoke grenades. They couldn’t see their targets through the smoke. Garrus’ eyes were fixed on Shepard. She was looking through the cracks between the crates in the direction of a nearby shelter where some civilians were holed up. Her nostrils flared and jaw tense in an expression that Garrus hated because he knew what always followed. 

“Garrus, do you have a read on the distance from my position to that shelter?” she asked over the comm.

“There’s too much smoke, Shepard. My visor can’t get a clear read.”

“Got a guess? What do you think? Eight meters, about?”

He looked. “Yeah, that’s about right.” He knew what she was thinking. “It’s too far with the heat we’re taking. You won’t make it.”

“I can get through,” she said as dread constricted around Garrus’ lungs. “Once I get in close, they won’t be able to see me through the smoke any more than we can see them. And I’ll have a better view of their forces from the shelter. You two, hold position here.”

“Shepard…” he growled.

“We can’t keep this up,” she snapped; she never had much patience for his worry in the field. “They’ll have more reinforcements soon, and then we’ll be dead. The civilians too.”

“Stay down! There are too many!” Garrus ordered, knowing she’d ignore him. “We’ll find another--”

Shepard left cover and sprinted into the smoke, her barrier flexing against the impact of bullets.

“Damn it!” Garrus shouted as he popped up to try to give her some cover fire. He could hear Shepard’s pistol discharging, and the enemy fire let up some as they were forced to divide their attention between targets.

“Loco. Completely fucking loco,” James grumbled, following Garrus’ example.

The fight continued, but Shepard’s pistol was soon ominously absent from the soundscape of gunfire. “Shepard?” Garrus said, pressing his hand to his earpiece. His heart raced as he waited for a response. For a moment he thought he heard Kaidan’s voice calling out into the abyss for Escape Pod 1, but a bullet hitting Garrus’ shield cut through the memory, and he sank back into cover. “Shepard, I don't have eyes on you. What's your status?” he asked, voice ragged.

Seconds stretched into an eternity before her voice came over the comm. “I've reached the remaining colonists,” she said breathlessly, and the sound of her pistol rejoined the chorus of bullets. “Taking heavy fire…. Gonna…” she let out a pained grunt that reverberated through Garrus like a tremor. “Gonna hold this position… keep them safe.”

“Shepard, are you wounded?” he asked frantically. 

“Just a scratch,” she responded, a mask of levity over the strain in her voice. “I've had worse papercuts.”

“You got medi-gel?” he asked. By his count she should have had three doses remaining.

“Negative,” Shepard said, breathing heavily. “Colonists needed medical care.”

“Damn it, Shepard!” he shouted. “I'm coming!” 

“No!” she shouted back. “It's too hot. Focus on clearing the drop site. That's an…” a stifled whimper stopped her mid sentence. She took a shuddering breath. “That's an order... I'll be fine... But we need an exit.”

EDI’s voice came over the comm. “Shepard your suit bio-readings indicate--”

“I said, I'll be fine!” Shepard cut her off. “Just focus on getting us a way out. More Cerberus forces on the way!”

Vega looked at Garrus. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think she’s fine.”

Garrus gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his gun. “Just focus on the mission,” he said. “The sooner we clear out the Cerberus forces, the sooner we can get to Shepard.”

The sound of Shepard’s gunfire and the occasional glow of her biotics through the smoke was a lifeline to Garrus. As long as she was fighting, she was alive. And she’d been right; her risk to get to the higher ground of the shelter had turned the tide of the fight. From her vantage she was able to thin their forces and take out a couple turrets. But as the fight wore on, she stopped using biotics and the span of time between the sound of her pistol discharging lengthened. By the time they finished off the last few Cerberus forces, it had been a few minutes since Garrus had last heard her fire. 

“Drop site is clear!” he said over the comm as he put his last bullet in the last man. “Talk to me, Shepard.”

Her voice came strained and weak. “Still… breathing… I could really use that medi-gel about now.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Hang in there. I'm on my way.”

Garrus arrived at Shepard’s position to find her on the floor, leaning against a wall, skin ashen, breathing shallowly. Her armor chest piece was removed and set aside, and a frightened civilian applied pressure to a badly bleeding wound in Shepard’s abdomen. “Hey, handsome,” Shepard said with a shaky smile when she saw him.

“Shepard,” he grumbled, kneeling next to her. He scanned her with his omni-tool and shook his head at the readout. He’d probably gotten to her with only a couple minutes to spare. “Just a papercut, huh?” he asked as he began an application of medigel to try to stop the bleeding.

“Yeah,” she said weakly with a laugh that quickly gave way to a blood-wet cough. “I guess it was a little deeper... than I thought.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands. “You need more than medigel. But this should hold you over until we get back to the Normandy. Doctor Chakwas will have to finish patching you up.”

Shepard held out her hand. “I could use an assist…. Help me to my feet?”

“You think you’re going to walk off a bullet to your liver, Shepard?” he scoffed.

She rolled her eyes. “Just give me a hand.”

He shook his head and bent to pick her up as gently as possible.

“My hero,” she said, voice tensed against the pain of being moved.

Garrus ignored her and spoke into his comm. “Shepard’s in bad shape. What’s the ETA on the Kodiak?”

“Coming into the landing zone now,” Cortez responded.

“Good,” Garrus breathed with relief.

Shepard patted his chest with her hand. “See? It’s all going to be just fine. My big sweet worrier.”

“Shepard…” he said, deeply irritated at her levity as he walked her to the landing zone. “What you did was damn reckless. We were lucky this time. But if you keep fighting this way…”

“Shhhh,” she hissed, putting her hand over his mouth. “God, you’re such a sourpuss sometimes. Just let me enjoy the victory. You can lecture me later.”

“Count on it,” he said, angrily.

After Garrus got Shepard strapped into a seat on the shuttle, he sat down next to her and tipped his head back, trying to calm his breathing and heart rate, telling himself that she was going to be okay.  

“Oh shoot,” Shepard said. He turned to see her frowning at him. “You got blood all over your shiny new armor.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he snapped, knowing that she wasn’t quite herself. “Do you have any idea how much I hate cleaning your blood off my armor?”

She cringed. “Jeeze! Is all of that mine?” She looked down at her own blood drenched clothes. “No wonder I feel so loopy and lightheaded right now.”

Chapter Text

Garrus heard the battery door open behind him and turned over his shoulder. He knew it probably wouldn’t be Shepard; she was still in recovery from surgery, and Doctor Chakwas would keep her under for at least another six hours. Just the same, he felt disappointed and a little irritated to see EDI standing behind him rather than her. 

“EDI?” he asked looking back down at the diagnostic console in front of him. “You need me for something?”

EDI walked around him to stand on the other side of the console, where she stood looking at him, unnaturally stiff. “I wish to make a personal inquiry.”

“Oh? Uh… okay… What about?”

“Your relationship with Commander Shepard.”

“Of course that's what you want to talk about,” he grumbled, inputting the parameters for the weapons systems diagnostic. “It's what everyone wants to talk about.”

EDI tilted her head curiously. “Have I exceeded the comfortable boundaries of our association by inquiring into a personal matter?”

Garrus realized he was being more prickly than she deserved. “Nah,” he said, making an effort to put his grouchiness aside. “Go ahead. What do you want to know?”

“You and Shepard were close friends preceding her death and following your reunion on Omega, but you made the mutual decision to become romantically and sexually involved 10 months, 1 week, and 2 days ago.”

Garrus laughed. “What? Don't know it to the hour?”

“I know it to the fraction of a second, but I have found organics find such precision tedious. Would you like to know how many milliseconds have transpired since your first sexual experience with Shepard?

“Nah, it's fine. Carry on.”

“Very well,” she said. “I wish to understand why you came to the conclusion that friendship was inadequate and opted to change the parameters of your relationship with Shepard.”

“Our friendship wasn't inadequate. She's the best friend I've ever had.”

“Then why was changing the parameters of your relationship desirable?” 

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess in friendship there are lines you don't typically cross”.

“Sex,” EDI said, frankly.

“Yeah, that would be one of them. Also other kinds of physical and emotional intimacy. We wanted to cross those lines.”

“Why?”

“Uh,” Garrus said, feeling a little out of his depth explaining the appeal of intimacy to a synthetic. “Because intimacy can be… really nice. With the right person, anyway.” 

“And Shepard is the ‘right person?’”

Garrus’ mandibles flared. “She is for me, yeah.”

“How did you know she would be the ‘right person?’” EDI asked.

He shrugged. “I guess I didn't. Our friendship gave me a pretty good idea of some elements of compatibility, and I’d loved her… for a long time. But we couldn't really know we were right for each other until we crossed those lines. I could just… hope.”

“You risked a friendship that was significant to you on the possibility of finding out if Shepard was the right person.”

“I don't think our friendship was ever at risk.... If it had been, I probably wouldn't have made the gamble, to be honest.”

“Then you value your friendship more than your romantic and sexual relationship?”

“I… guess I do. Don’t get me wrong, the rest of it matters a hell of a lot to me. But, friendship is the anchor of our relationship. Without it, we wouldn’t have the rest, and she wouldn’t be the right person for me.”

“Is friendship a critical component of successful romantic and sexual relationships?” EDI asked.

“Uh… I can’t speak for every relationship, EDI. But for me it is, yeah. Look… if Shepard decided tomorrow that she wanted to call off our involvement…” he tensed at the thought, “it would hurt like hell… but I would still be her friend. She matters too much to me to lose her completely. And, fortunately , Shepard feels the same way. Whatever happens to us as a couple, we'll be part of each other's lives for the rest of our lives.”

“Then you risked nothing by changing the parameters of your relationship.”

“Just my heart. Though, to be honest, Shepard was pretty brutal on my heart even before we started crossing those lines.”

“I see,” EDI said with a small smile. “Thank you, Garrus…. May I approach you if I have further inquiries regarding romantic and sexual relationships?”

“Uh… I’m hardly an expert, EDI,” he said, shifting nervously at the thought. “I’ve pretty much just had the one relationship.”

“Nevertheless, your insight and experience is relevant. Do not be concerned; I will seek out multiple subjects with a variety of first-hand sexual and romantic experiences to build a more robust data set for my analysis.”

“Your… analysis?” Garrus asked, confused.

“Yes, I wish to come to an informed decision regarding the nature of my relationship with Jeff.”

He cleared his throat to stifle a laugh. “You… want to be in a romantic and sexual relationship with Joker?” After all of Joker’s ribbing about Garrus having a human fetish, the thought of the pilot falling for the ship was almost enough to break Garrus’ composure.

“Perhaps,” EDI replied. “I am considering the potential risks and benefits of changing the parameters of our relationship.”

“Huh. Well, I'd tell you to follow your heart, but I don't know if that applies here.”

“Do you have doubts regarding the potential of a successful romance between synthetic and organic entities?”

He snorted. “Hell if I know. My father doubts the potential of a successful relationship between a Turian and a human, but Shepard and I are doing fine so far,” minus the frequent near-death experiences . “Just as long as you both go into it with your eyes wide open, there's no reason not to give it a shot. Assuming that's what you want.”

EDI smiled. “Thank you, Garrus. You are a good friend.”

“Any time.”

Garrus was in the middle of some calibrations when Shepard’s voice came over his personal comm. “Hey, big guy. You busy?”

His madibles flared, happily. “Never too busy for you.”

“How about bunking with me tonight?”

“Has medical cleared you?” he asked. It had only been a couple days since Benning.

“Yup. Doctor Chakwas just gave me the green light on resuming ordinary activity.”

“Great…” he said with mixed feelings. “So we’ll be hitting Tuchanka tomorrow, I take it?”

“Mmhmm. Tomorrow: Tuchanka. Tonight: Roman Holiday .”

“Where?” he asked. “Is that in the Pangea Expanse?”

Her laugh tickled through him. “It’s a vid, babe. A classic Earth romance, starring Audrey Hepburn… Remember? You liked her in Sabrina .”

“ Right ,” he said remembering. “Because she looks like you.”

Shepard laughed again. “Maybe after a bottle of wine…. Fortunately, I have one ready.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be up in twenty.”

After finishing up his work and changing into his civilian clothes, Garrus headed for the elevator, practically skipping. He pressed the button and waited for the lift to climb the decks. The doors opened to him, and he almost walked right into Wrex.

“Oh!” Garrus said, freezing in place. “Uh… hey, Wrex.”

Wrex looked him up and down, no doubt noticing his civilian clothes. “Garrus… You getting in or what?”

“Right. Sorry.” Garrus got in the elevator, stood next to Wrex, and cleared his throat as the doors closed. Garrus looked at the lift buttons. The CIC button was illuminated.

“Going up?” Wrex asked, his nostrils flaring.

Garrus’ eyes lingered on the darkened button for the Captain’s Cabin. “Um… Yeah.”

As the elevator climbed, Garrus heard subtle sniffing coming from Wrex. Pheromones don’t lie . 

The doors opened to the CIC but neither of them moved.

“Well?” Wrex asked. “You getting off?”

“Uh… no. I'm… uh…”

The doors closed, and Wrex glared at Garrus. “Pick. A. Floor.”

“You're… uh… you're not getting off?” Garrus asked, feeling uncomfortably exposed.

Wrex looked straight ahead. “Nope.”

Garrus hesitated, cleared his throat, and pushed the button for Shepard’s cabin.

“Heh heh heh,” Wrex laughed, knowingly, his perverse curiosity satisfied. “Gross.”

Chapter Text

Garrus stared down at the shining holo image of the shroud. It was a hell of a plan. A risk, to be sure. But there was an elegance to it that Garrus appreciated. And it was Shepard’s heart at the core of it, her willingness to trust and forgive, and her belief that even the deepest wounds can be healed. Mordin’s mind may have devised the cure and its means of delivery, but the only reason Mordin, or Wrex, or Victus believed in this solution was Shepard’s influence. She’d changed them all. Garrus wondered if she truly recognized this power she had over people, if she appreciated the way admirals, generals, and leaders of worlds fell under her sway. She’d make light and say that she was good at winning people over, but it was so much more than that.

“The Commander might just pull this off,” Victus said, looking across the war table at him.

“She always does,” Garrus responded, pride glowing through his tone.

“I was inclined to think her reputation was more hero-worship than substance. But she is extraordinary.... In some ways, almost Turian. I see now why you've fallen so hard for her.”

Garrus laughed. “You don't know the half of it, Sir. Shepard is much more than most ever get to see.”

“I'm sure you're right. I wish I had the time to get to know her better,” he said with a note of wistfulness that didn’t escape Garrus’ notice. “But once our alliance with the Krogan is secured, I'll need to return to our people.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Victus stretched to his full height, hands clasped behind his back. “I'd like you with me, Vakarian. As part of my cabinet.”

Garrus leaned forward against the war table, his talons tightening around the edge of it. Victus’ offer ( if a request from a Primarch could be considered anything short of compulsory) was an incredible honor. Advancing to the top of the Meritocracy to serve within the Primacy? It was the highest ambition of every turian…. But Garrus had never been a very good turian. “With all due respect, sir,” Garrus said, his subvocals as steady as stone, “removing me from the Normandy would be an egregious tactical error on your part.”

Victus laughed, no doubt baffled by Garrus’ audacity to second guess him. “Is that right?”

He straightened up and met Victus’ gaze without wavering. “This war needs Shepard. And Shepard needs me.”

Victus’ mandibles fanned out in amusement. “And are you speaking as a soldier or as a man in love?” he asked.

“Always both, Sir,” he said firmly. “I don't trust anyone to watch Shepard's back as well as I can.”

“I’m not sure what to make of that statement, Vakarian,” Victus said. “Is it vanity? Over-protectiveness?”

“Neither,” Garrus said, careful to keep the anger out of his tone. “It's experience. I’ve seen it over and over again: Shepard’s reputation precedes her; too many people think she's practically invincible. Off the field, it gives people someone to believe in. On the field is something different. They still see the legend, but there the hero worship means they don't account for her weaknesses, and they don't watch her back as well as they should. They don’t even realize they do it, they've just... internalized the hype.”

“But you haven't?” Victus asked, doubtfully.

Garrus shook his head. “I know Shepard better than anyone. I believe in her because I know exactly what she’s capable of; she can win this war. But I'm also keenly and painfully aware of her mortality and vulnerabilities every damn second…. When I’m there with her, Shepard is covered. I know the way she fights, the way she thinks, the risks she’ll take, and the kind of support she needs on and off the field.” He breathed deeply. “You’ve expressed concern that Shepard might break under the pressure…. What do you think the impact would be of removing the person she relies on most?”

“ Palaven is relying on you,” Victus grumbled.

“Palaven needs me here ,” he said forcefully. “Primarch, if you recognize how vital Shepard is to the success of the war effort, for the survival of Palaven and the whole damn galaxy, don’t order me to leave the Normandy.”

Garrus waited tensely as Victus stared down at the war table in silent thought. “You are a singular man,” Victus said at last with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, Garrus. Shepard may be the only person who can unite the galaxy against the Reapers, and if you need to be here for her to save us all, I can make the concession and permit you to remain.”

Garrus relaxed. “I appreciate that, sir,” he said, voice breathless with relief. 

Victus snorted. “Somehow I doubt you'd follow the order to leave her side even if I gave it.”

He wasn’t wrong. “Thank you for not testing that theory, sir,” Garrus replied. “I can continue to work in my advising and coordination capacity remotely from the Normandy.”

Victus gave him a sharp nod. “Good. Get her through the war, Vakarian. And win this thing. That's an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

Garrus entered Shepard’s quarters, holding a bottle of wine. Shepard was sitting on her couch, datapad in hand. “Busy?” he asked.

“Just going over some reports,” she said without looking up.

Garrus grabbed the glasses off the shelf and headed down the stairs to her. “I thought we could raise a glass to a hell of a big win,” he said, opening the bottle and sitting, “and a lost friend.”

She smiled sadly and set down the datapad while he poured the wine. “Thanks. That sounds nice.” Her voice sounded tired, and Garrus wondered if she’d managed to get any sleep after they’d left Tuchanka.

He handed her a glass and clinked his to hers before taking a sip. But Shepard didn’t drink. She held her glass, staring distantly and unblinking into the dark pool of wine. “You okay?” he asked, knowing she wasn’t.

Shepard snapped out of her trance and took a sip from her glass. “Mm. It's a good wine,” she said, trying to summon the lightness to her tone that she thought would reassure him. “And a good way to honor a hero and a friend. Mordin's sacrifice… he gave us a fighting chance.”

“You were a huge part of that,” Garrus said, adoration and gratitude humming through his subvocals. “This agreement you struck between the krogan and turians… You may have saved my world, Shepard.”

She looked at his face and a little light returned to her wan smile. “I couldn't have done it without you. Victus owes you a promotion,” she said, unaware that the promotion had been offered and turned down. “And your people owe you a statue. A big one. Right in the middle of the capital.”

He laughed. “Maybe we can pose for it together. The power-couple who saved the galaxy.”

She laughed, and he knew without reservations that he’d made the right choice to stay aboard the Normandy. As heavily as the war weighed on her, if he could still make her laugh, he knew she’d be okay. And there was more he could do to help her shake off the weight of the galaxy, if only for a little while.

Garrus scooted in close to her, taking the glass from her hand and placing it on the coffee table with his own. “But until Palaven's statue foundries are back in operation, perhaps you would accept this Turian delegate's heartfelt expression of deep gratitude on behalf of Palaven and the Turian Primacy.” He slid his hand up her inner thigh and nuzzled into her neck.

Shepard smiled brightly, and the warm pull of her biotics hummed against him. “Mmmm. Well… it's no statue, but it's a start.” She swung her leg over him to straddle his lap. 

Garrus caressed the curve of her buttocks with his left hand, while his right reached for her zipper. 

She blocked him with her hand. “Wait. Are you sure you're authorized to act on behalf of the Primacy?” An impish quality played on the corners of her mouth and eyes. “I'm going to have to check your credentials.” She raised herself onto her knees and slipped a hand down the front of his pants. 

The thrum of her dark energy quickly brought a moan to his throat and his cloaca to a ready swell against her hand. He pressed his forehead to hers, laughing breathlessly.  

“Oh, now these are impressive credentials, I have to say,” Shepard said, continuing to tease him with her practiced fingers. “I'll bet you get access to everything with these.”

He resumed unzipping her uniform. “They're… mmm... really more... specialized credentials….” he said, as he kissed and nibbled her neck. “Deep... privileged... access to one particular system.”

Shepard tossed her shirt to the floor and laughed. “Lucky system.”

Chapter Text

Garrus looked down the list of names on the wall. It had only been yesterday when he’d stood with Shepard as she’d added Mordin’s name to the memorial. And now Thane would join him. He hadn’t been the only friend Garrus had lost today. The C-Sec casualty report hadn’t been released yet, but he’d recognized some faces as they’d swiftly moved past the bodies left behind by Cerberus. And he’d come too damn close to losing more than a few casual friends.

He turned his head as Shepard approached. “Hey,” she said, her tone sympathetic, but depleted. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Hell of a day.”

“Yeah.” She frowned and closed her eyes. “Garrus… I’m sorry for putting you through this.”

He looked at her, uncertain what she could possibly be apologizing for. “ Shepard . Nothing that happened today is on you.”

She opened her eyes and shook her head. “You’re wrong about that. I shouldn't have brought you with me to the Citadel. I was thinking of the mission, and I lost sight of how it might impact you…. Seeing C-sec in ruins, so many dead colleagues and friends.” Her nostrils flared. “You shouldn't have had to go through that.”

“It would have been harder to stay behind. Besides, you needed me…. I'll be okay.”
He searched her face, recognizing that stubborn blend of guilt and grief in her pinched brow and the subtle tightness at her mouth and eyes. “How about you? I heard that Thane didn't make it.”

She swallowed back a feeling that rose in her throat. “He passed about an hour ago. His son and I were with him... He was… at peace with it, I think. Ready. Whatever consolation that is.” 

He nodded and put his arm around her. “It’s something, at least,” Garrus said, wondering if Shepard had any inkling of how Thane had felt about her. 

She sighed. “It’s something. Better than most people get.” Her eyes drifted down the list of names on the wall, names she felt responsible for. But under any other commander, the list would have been far longer.

“We came damn close to adding Kaidan's name to the wall today too,” he said. He didn’t want to say the other name that had almost ended up on the wall.

“Yeah,” she said with a sharp intake of air. “ Never thought I'd have Kaidan in my crosshairs.”

“Or you in his,” he said, his chest tightening at the fresh memory of Kaidan’s gun on her. One twitch of Alenko’s finger and Garrus might have lost her.

She snorted. “Yeah. Hell of a day.”

He searched her face. “Shepard,” he began, “if he hadn't stood down… could you have pulled the trigger?”

She looked at him, brows lifted. “On Kaidan?” She shook her head. “I don't see how. I’d have taken out Udina and hoped that Kaidan was just as incapable of pulling his trigger on me as I was of pulling mine on him.”

He looked away, her expected answer turning nauseously in the pit of his stomach. “I figured as much…. But, for the record, I wouldn’t have given him the chance.” 

Shepard tensed at his confession.

“Seeing him with his gun on you like that… knowing what would happen if you had to fire at Udina before Kaidan came to his senses... I was seconds away from taking him out, Shepard. Maybe less.” He looked into her pained eyes. “I'm not losing you for anything. Or anyone.”

She broke their eye contact, returning her gaze to the place where Kaidan’s name might have been if he’d tested the limits of Garrus’ trust any further. “I hope that's never a choice you have to make.”

He tightened his hold on her. “Me too. But just in case it is... never leave me behind. I need to be there when there are shots you can't take.”

Shepard sighed, understanding. “You know he’s asked to rejoin the Normandy, right?”

Garrus nodded. Joker had already broken the news. “We can always use another friendly gun.” He looked down at her. “He is a friendly gun now, right? No more taking aim at you? Literally or figuratively?”

A shadow of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I think he’s finally got his head straight.” She looked up at him. “Are you good with this? On a personal level, I mean.”

He snorted. “ Sure… It’s everyone’s dream to be bumping into their girlfriend’s ex in the hall everyday. It won’t be awkward at all.”

“I’m serious, Garrus. You two haven’t exactly been… copacetic lately. Should I be braced for problems here?”

“I’ll fight the urge to airlock him. I promise.”

“Garrus…” she grumbled.

He laughed and caressed her shoulder. “I’m good, Shepard. I was able to stomach working with Cerberus; working with Kaidan should be a walk in the park by comparison.”

Chapter Text

Kaidan’s change of heart seemed to be genuine this time. No more questioning of Shepard’s loyalties. No more implying that she might not be herself. And, although he seemed tense around Garrus, his overt hostility had faded. They were not the friends they had been on the SR-1, but they had at least arrived at a grudging truce, the terms of which Garrus was confident Kaidan understood. As long as Kaidan was an ally to Shepard, Garrus could handle his personal dislike of the man.

Garrus had thought that they both had accepted the way things stood between them, but shortly after they’d returned from Noveria, Kaidan entered the battery looking unsettled and sheepish.

“Kaidan,” Garrus said warily as he looked over his shoulder at Alenko.

“Hey, Garrus… You… uh… you got a minute to talk?”

Garrus felt a twinge of tension in his neck but nodded. “Yeah. As good a time as any.” He turned to face Kaidan, braced against whatever confrontation Kaidan might have in mind.

Kaidan paced. “I want to clear the air between us.”

Garrus leaned back against the diagnostic console, not trusting the direction this was going. “Okay.” 

“I was… out of line when we talked in the hospital,” he said with a sigh, stopping his pacing to face Garrus. “Look, I know you care about Shepard, and you never would have intentionally taken advantage of her. That’s… that’s not who you are. And as for Shepard… well… she makes her own choices…. I guess it was easier for me to blame you than deal with the real problems between me and her.”

“I… appreciate  that, Kaidan,” Garrus said, suspicion flanging beneath his words.

Kaidan smiled weakly. “And I appreciate you not shooting me back on the Citadel. You certainly had cause.”

Garrus shrugged. “It was tempting… but I knew you'd come around.” Kaidan didn’t need to know how close he’d come to getting a bullet between the eyes.

Kaidan laughed. “Well it was good of you to still have faith in me, despite everything.”

“Good of you to stop being a colossal ass long enough to recognize when you're wrong,” Garrus said, not quite ready for the benevolence Kaidan was ascribing to him.

Kaidan cringed. “Yeah… About that…”

“Uh oh,” Garrus grumbled. Of course there’d be a catch. “Still determined to be an ass, then?”

He frowned. “Look, I know you care about Shepard, and I'm sure she has feelings for you too. But…” He sighed. “I… I keep trying to shove down what I feel for her. But it all keeps bubbling back up.”

Garrus crossed his arms. “Sounds like acid reflux,” he said with an edge. “Maybe Doctor Chakwas can give you something for it.”

“I wish that’s all it was.” He shook his head. “Garrus… I love Shepard. I know the timing isn't great, but I've thought about it a lot, and I have to tell her how I feel. If there's even a chance that she feels the same… I have to give us a shot.”

“Damn,” Garrus said, regretting that he’d promised Shepard he wouldn’t airlock Alenko. “And here I was just starting to like you again.”

Kaidan nodded. “I get it. In your place… I'd be furious. Hell, I was furious in your place. But what Shepard and I had… it was real. And pissing you off… well… I'm sorry, but it's a price I'm willing to pay if it means she and I can have that again.”

Garrus shook his head. In Kaidan’s place Garrus had respected that Shepard was happy with someone else. It had never even occurred to him to try to disrupt their relationship. Why did Kaidan feel entitled to do differently? “Why are you telling me this?” he asked wearily. “If you're expecting me to step aside I'm going to have to disappoint you.”

“I don't know… I guess I thought you deserved a heads up.”

“Alright,” Garrus said, bitterly. “Consider me forewarned.” He turned back to his console and resumed working, hoping Kaidan would leave.

Kaidan circled the console to face Garrus. “You're… uh… you're not going to try to talk me out of it?”

“Nah,” Garrus replied. What would he even say?

Kaidan smiled and crossed his arms. “Ah, you're that confident, huh? Not even a little worried that Shepard might choose me over you?”

“On the scale of the many things that make me worry about Shepard, you rank middle-low, just below elevators. Mostly for non-romantic reasons.”

Kaidan laughed and held up his hands. “Hey, at least I rank! Back on the SR-1, you were the last thing I expected to come between us. Liara felt like a threat. Never you.”

Garrus gave him a withering look. He considered telling Kaidan how close he’d come to being the one who’d bunked with Shepard on the way to Ilos, but he knew Shepard wouldn’t like him stirring the pot. “Well… Things change,” he said with a shrug. “Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about you making a move on my girlfriend. But Shepard is a free agent, and if she's only with me out of a mistaken belief that you're not an option, I'd rather her be disabused of that notion sooner than later.” Kaidan wasn’t the only one who wanted to move forward in a relationship with Shepard, afterall, and he’d rather avoid Kaidan continuing to wind up underfoot as Garrus and Shepard took their own next steps. 

“If you want to tell Shepard how you feel, I’m not going to stop you,” Garrus continued. “That said, I have to tell you, I'm pretty sure you're about to have your heart broken, Kaidan. Consider that your friendly heads-up.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Kaidan grumbled. “But she's worth the risk.”

“No argument there.”

Chapter Text

Garrus sat next to Shepard on the couch, his arm around her shoulders, working on a report for the Primarch while she worked next to him. He missed the Cerberus days when they’d both had downtime to spare. Now they were absorbed in their duties and most of their time together was spent like this: quietly working in one another’s company. Even when she’d insist he take the time he needed to rest, Shepard was still absorbed in the war, working late into the night and spending shore leave taking care of business on the Citadel. Worse, she was hardly sleeping. And, when she did sleep, she’d toss and turn in fits of nightmares. After he woke her with a tender hand on her arm, she’d shut him out and pretend she couldn’t remember what dreams had disturbed her. Garrus was worried about the toll the war and Shepard’s own refusal to rest was taking on her. Only sex could reliably distract her from her obsessive focus on the Reapers for more than a few minutes at a time. And as great as that was, it wasn’t enough to counterbalance the weight she was being forced to carry.

Hackett was no help. He heaped more and more on Shepard’s shoulders. As much as Garrus could appreciate the need for war assets and the fact that the Normandy and her commander were unparalleled at getting in and out under the Reapers’ noses, he feared that the Alliance was driving Shepard toward a breaking point. Not even he was sure what her limit might be. He’d seen her bend under the pressure on a few occasions, but never to the extent that she couldn’t push through it. Still, she wasn’t the unstoppable force of nature that Hackett and the rest of the galaxy took her for. And Garrus sensed that Shepard’s unseen limits were closer than she would admit even to herself.

Garrus was privately terrified of what could happen if the pressure broke Shepard. Without her, he couldn’t see them winning this war. But beyond that, if Shepard was pushed past her limit, he’d more than likely lose her. He knew that if she felt herself breaking her impulse would be to push harder and risk more. Her tendency to take personal risks was already edging toward recklessness. Benning had made that clear. Shepard insisted that the fact that they’d completed the mission and that they and the civilians had all gotten out alive justified the risks she’d taken. But Garrus maintained that luck had played a significant role.

He needed to believe she’d survive this war; the thought of a galaxy without her in it was unbearable. He was counting on having a life with her after the Reapers were defeated. It made him fight for his own survival as well as hers. He reached for it with every bullet he fired, every hit he took, every loss he faced. He could bear it all if it meant making it through this long night to watch the dawn break on a future at Shepard’s side. But the more she risked, the more distant and engrossed in her work she became, the more he had to push down the growing doubts that she’d be making it to that dawn at the end of the war.

Shepard had plenty to fight for, plenty to die for, but Garrus was repeatedly faced with the question of whether or not she recognized she had something and someone to live for. He knew she loved him. But did she see it as the kind of love that stretched beyond the horizon of the moment? Did she believe he was her anchor to a future worth living for? Or did she see herself eventually leaving him behind, as she had Kaidan, to trade her life for the survival of others? 

The doubt ate at him. He’d followed Shepard’s lead in their relationship, knowing that humans typically had a much slower crawl than turians took to get from love to marriage. He didn’t want to push or pressure when she was already carrying so much. And certainly being in the midst of a long-odds war complicated things. But not knowing if Shepard saw a future with him beyond the end of the war was increasingly difficult for Garrus to endure. He needed to know she believed in a future for herself , at least. Something to reassure him that she intended to survive. Something for him to hold onto whenever Shepard saw fit to take a risk that exceeded his own sense of caution and protectiveness. 

“Think I could steal some of your time when we dock at the Citadel tomorrow?” he asked, looking over at her.

She looked up from her work, brow furrowed. “You need some help at the refugee camp?”

He laughed ruefully at the way her mind went first to work. “Uh… no. I was thinking more like a date. Something special. Just for us.”

Her brow unknitted and a smile spread across her face. “I can probably make some time, sure.”

“Great. Clear the afternoon.”

She cringed and looked away. “The whole afternoon might be hard to swing. Hackett has a researcher he wants me to meet with, and there’s been--”

He put a hooked finger under her chin and turned her face back to him. “It’s one afternoon, Shepard. The war can spare you for half a day.”

She sighed and chewed on the inside of her cheek, considering. “Okay, big guy,” she said after thinking it over. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I can move the meeting with Hackett’s guy to tomorrow morning.”

He kissed her forehead, knowing that she was a touch perturbed by his insistence. “Thanks, Shepard. I’ll try to make it worth your time.”

She smiled. “You’re always worth my time. I just wish I had more time to give.” The words had barely left her mouth when her omni-tool pinged her with an unread message.