Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: “Dreamless”

Summary: Joker is suffering from insomnia. Can a fuzzy denizen of the Normandy be the cure?

There is no way to distinguish night and day in deep space. There is only the cold, unending ebony void, with flickering lights of faraway stars the only things to break up the wall of blackness before him.

To compensate for the lack of visual time distinction, the Normandy had installed in all areas of the ship “Artificial Circadian Lighting.” The lights dimmed at “night” and brightened during “daylight,” according to the clock that read Standard Earth Time. It was supposed to keep the crew’s sleep cycle normal.

Unfortunately, the lighting system had no effect on Joker, the Normandy’s ace pilot. He spent almost all of his waking (and sleeping) hours in the pilot’s chair because of his “brittle bone disease,” so unless he was looking at his console readouts, he was staring out into the void.

Joker had been the victim of chronic insomnia for many years, but it wasn’t until the Normandy’s destruction and Shepard’s death that he had another reason to avoid sleep like the plague: the nightmares that came from the grief and fear from that night.

When he had first joined the Alliance, he had thought of space as the great frontier, a place to be explored by brave soldiers and colonists. He wanted to be the one who would take those soldiers and colonists to those new frontiers.

Now, after seeing the Normandy nothing more than slag and spinning debris, after seeing his Commander lose her grip on the door of the escape pod and go flying off to the void of space, after hearing that she had died in that void….

Joker couldn’t help but see space as the enemy now. The only thing that held the vacuum at bay was a few feet of steel and other materials. He couldn’t sleep for fear that if he left the ship unattended, even to sleep, that vacuum would find a way inside and take away everything and everyone he cared about. That the vacuum would take away Shepard again.

And so, armed only with his sarcastic wit, an impressive porn collection, and the best flying skills of any pilot in the galaxy, Joker vowed to protect the Normandy and her crew with his heart and soul. If that meant he had to forego sleep, so be it. At least if he didn’t sleep, he couldn’t dream, and couldn’t remember….

~*~

The console was littered with empty cans of energy drinks, and Joker had loud techno music playing as he tapped away on the console, fighting off the urge to sleep. He didn’t need to sleep; back in the academy all he did was study, take cat-naps, and repeat. Then he had worked his ass off to get into this chair, and now he was working just as hard to protect it.

“Sleep’s overrated,” he said to himself as he beat-boxed along to the song playing. Unfortunately, his body was having a hard time believing him. He glanced at the time on the console, and stifled an enormous yawn.

When Joker wasn’t watching old Earth vids or pornography, he was practicing his skills via flight simulator. He had logged dozens of practice hours in the simulator, and he was foregoing sleep to keep practicing, to keep pushing himself to do better. He was busy tapping away on the console, practicing a “Crazy Ivan,” a flight move he had only heard of, but had always wanted to try. I’ll be ready if the Collectors show back up. Now, if I can reverse the engine drive at these coordinates--

Joker’s reverie was broken by a sound. A sound so terrifying in its repercussions that it could easily be the most damnable sound to be heard on the Normandy nowadays.

It was not the whirling sound of a bad air exhaust fan, signaling that the oxygen had stopped circulating around the ship.

It was not the signature clicking sound that could mean the engines were having trouble firing, leaving the ship dead in space.

No. This was a small, innocent sound. He turned off the music to see if he heard it again. After a moment of silence, he shook his head. Must be hearing things--

From beside his chair came a deceivingly innocent “Meow?”

Joker jumped, and immediately flinched. That was almost a fracture he thought. He leaned over the chair to see the little gray-furred, blue-eyed kitten C.O. staring up at him. “Meow!” the kitten said again.

“Aw, shit,” Joker said, staring at the furball.

Wherever the kitten was, the heavy determined footfalls of an overprotective krogan were never far behind. Grunt seemed to think that everyone one the ship was determined to kidnap the kitten and kill him when the krogan was not looking. The kitten had now become on omen of bodily harm, if not death itself. To see him was to meet with a pair of angry blue eyes staring at you, asking “What are you doing to my cat?”

“Get outta here, furball!” Joker hissed, trying to shoo the creature away. “How the hell did you even get up here anyway? I said go away!”

C.O. ignored the pilot’s orders and instead started bounding around his chair and tumbling around in general good spirits. Joker leaned over and watched almost fearfully for the elevator doors to open, to see Grunt come stomping down the bridge towards him.

“EDI, why didn’t you warn me?!” he hissed. The familiar blue orb appeared on the console beside him. “My sensors were not alerted to any presences, Jeff. I was unaware you would be receiving any visitor under five inches in height.”

“Dammit,” he said, and sat back. “Is Grunt on his way to kick my crippled ass?”

“No one’s in the elevator, Joker. I don’t believe your ‘crippled ass’ is in any immediate harm.”

“What a relief, thanks,” he said sarcastically. Several louds thumps forced him to look down the side of his chair to see C.O. looking dazed and lying on his back. The kitten wiggled back onto his stomach, shook his head as though to clear it, and looked up at Joker again.

The kitten turned to the end of the chair’s footrest, wiggled his butt for maximum strength, and jumped as high as he could, but instead of getting onto the chair he would only manage to face plant into the pleather footrest and fall to the floor. Joker watched this with a sense of guilty satisfaction.

“You really should keep your fuzzy butt down there, kid….for the love of…will you stop doing that? You’ll give yourself a concussion and Grunt will think it’s my fault!”

Joker turned from the kitten back to EDI’s form. “No, seriously EDI how in the hell did he get up here?”

“I don’t know, Jeff.” If she could have managed the gesture, he would have sworn EDI would have shrugged her shoulders.

“How can you not know?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Aren’t you…ya know…the Normandy?”

“I don’t have sensors in every induction port or ventilation shaft--”

An odd puncturing sound suddenly caught off EDI’s answer, and the pilot looked down to see that the determined kitten had finally managed to dig his claws into the footrest at the height of his last leap, and was pulling himself up into Joker’s chair.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Joker moaned as C.O. got onto the chair, right beside his feet. The kitten shook itself like a dog and started making his way towards Joker’s body.

“I have enough problems as it is without a stupid cat trying to jump on me, thinking I’m a freakin’ trampoline! EDI, please, help me out here!”

“What do you want me to do, Jeff?”

“I don’t know! Just…” C.O. had finally toddled up beside Joker’s lap. He sat beside the immobile pilot, who was hoping that if he did not move the cat would get bored, jump down, and find his way back into the cargo hold before “morning.”

“Meow!” C.O. said loudly, staring intently at Joker. He was used to being scratched or stroked by everyone he came across, and he did not like being ignored.

“Meeoooooowwww….” C.O. whined loudly, the sound echoing in the empty cockpit. He wiggled his back legs as he readied himself to jump onto the pilot’s lap, but Joker grabbed him and lifted him onto his lap instead.

“Ok, C.O. you win! Just shut up, don’t flay me, or jump on me, got it? Follow the house rules, you can stay. Stupid cat….”

The kitten toddled around on Joker’s lap for a few minutes, getting used to the lean muscle underneath the thin layer of the Cerberus uniform. He plucked at the cloth with his claws, trying to knead Joker’s legs into some softer to lie on.

Joker twitched every time C.O.’s claw nicked his skin but the pain was so miniscule in relation to fracturing bones doing everyday things that he didn’t really notice. He reset the simulator to try another strategy when the he felt paws on his stomach. Looking down he saw C.O. standing on his back legs with his front ones on Joker’s abs, trying to swat at the pilot’s moving hands.

“Argh!” he growled, getting irritated. Knowing the only way to get the kitten to leave him alone was to either pet the stupid thing into submission; he closed the simulator and started to roughly scratch C.O.’s head between his ears. He hoped the kitten would either get fed up with the treatment and leave, or go to sleep. Either way, Joker would be able to get back to his practices.

C.O. was rubbing his body against Joker’s hand and purring like an engine the whole time. C.O. was used to Grunt’s attempts to “pet” him, so nothing Joker could do would even come close to rough treatment. He leaned forward and stretched his whole body, from the tip of his tiny tail to his claws, before flopping onto his back so Joker could get his belly too.

The kitten’s underbelly was more like fluff than fur, and the sheer warmth of the thin and tender skin underneath caused Joker to unconsciously become gentler in his ministrations.

Joker leaned back in his chair to stare past the holographic console into the black landscape of past. Without the loud techno noise to concentrate on, and the last effects of those various energy drinks finally fading away, he suddenly felt really tired. I can’t go to sleep; I’ve still got so much to do. I need to keep practicing…need to keep my skills up….need to….protect….her….

C.O. had curled himself into a little vibrating ball on Joker’s lap, already fast asleep, as Joker’s fingers started scratching more and more slowly. Eventually, the pilot could not keep his
eyes open any longer, as he finally drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, his hand falling gently beside the sleeping Officer….

~*~

“Looks like he’s finally fallen asleep,” Shepard said quietly. She was curled up in the chair at her desk in her cabin, legs pulled up to her chest as she watched the vid of Joker finally nodding off at the console, C.O. passed out as well.

EDI’s blue body was on the console beside the screen. “My sensors indicate he has entered REM sleep, but his vitals are within normal range-he is resting peacefully.”

Shepard nodded, but didn’t speak for a moment. There was a sad and faraway look in her eyes.

“Thanks for letting me know about Joker’s insomnia. I didn’t realize he was having such a problem. I know what it’s like to not sleep because of nightmares….”

“Of course, Shepard. If the Normandy crashed because he wasn’t at attention, you would probably disconnect my core and destroy it via well-aimed shotgun round.”

A small grin spread across her face. “Good to see you’re a quick study.”

A moment of silence fell between them as Shepard watched Joker’s head roll slightly in his sleep, mouth fashionably agape.

“Shepard? May I make an inquiry?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you believe releasing C.O. on the bridge would result in Joker receiving adequate sleep?”

Shepard didn’t answer for a moment, curling a lock of red hair around her finger. “I read on the extranet that people who had pets were calmer, and in better general health. So I just figured it was worth a try. If anyone deserves a rest, it’s that ass of a pilot.”

“Jeff can be a handful,” EDI observed.

“No kidding. And thanks for your help.”

“I only fed a looped video of the empty bridge to his console. You getting C.O. onto the bridge as quietly as you did without alerting Jeff was more impressive, Commander.”

“Let’s just agree it was a joint effort.”

“How were you able to convince Grunt to allow C.O. onto the bridge unattended, Commander?” EDI inquired.

Shepard chuckled. “He really didn’t want to do it, but when I explained that if the Normandy crashed because Joker passed out at the wheel, and everyone died, C.O. would die, too.
Grunt wasn’t happy, but he believed this to be a necessary evil.”

A sound from across the room made the Commander look over to see a large mass under a blanket move on the bed. A long, turian-shaped arm reached out to feel the empty side where Shepard should have been sleeping and started patting the area, looking for her. Garrus’ voice was muffled as he called her name into the sheets. “Sheppaaard….come to beeed….” he said sleepily.

She smiled and got out of her chair with a stretch. “Make sure he gets a decent rest, EDI. I’ll be up later to return C.O. to Grunt,” she ordered as she made her way to the bed, to curl up next to Garrus who had already passed back out.

“Yes, Shepard. Logging you out.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: “Caught in the Act”

~*~

The ruckus in the mess hall could be heard in all corners of the ship. The shouts, cursing, and cheers where coming from the large crowd that had formed around the table. Though mostly Cerberus crew, Garrus and Mordin were also present, watching the activity taking place at the table with fascination. Engineer Kenneth had already taken advantage of the large crowd and had started a betting pool, with the pot currently in triple digits.

In the center of the crowd at the table was Grunt and Jack, each sitting across from each other, both their expression a mixture of determination and competition. The veins on his arm were starting to pop out from the effort. Jack’s arm held a blue biotic field over it, the only reason she hadn’t broken her arm long ago. Sweat was starting to build on both competitors’ foreheads as their arms swayed back and forth. This was an arm-wrestling match no one on the Normandy could truly predict who would win.

Jack’s biotics made her an equal match for Grunt in brute strength. The real test would be stamina-who could keep from being pinned the longest.

“Going to be close,” Mordin said, keeping a close eye on the combatants’ health vitals with his omni-tool. “Normally wouldn’t condone pre-battle violence, but must admit a fascination with this particular type of competition.”

“Those two have been at each other’s throats since they got on board,” Garrus said. He was in the back of the crowd, his height allowing him to keep an eye on Jack and Grunt easily.

“Seemed like a good way to get rid of the tension amicably. Turians usually use sparring matches to settle differences, but I think a match like that between those two would result in a completely destroyed Normandy, not to mention possible casualties.”

“Casualties problematic,” Mordin agreed.

~*~

“So, Lizard-boy,” Jack panted slightly. “How’s it feel to know you’re gonna lose to a puny human female?”

“I wouldn’t know. How does it feel to know your about to be put in your place by a genetically superior male?” Grunt hissed, smiling wickedly.

Jack’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’ll make you shit those words, freak!” Her arm started to glow more intensely as she charged her biotic gauntlet. Grunt’s arm started to sway dangerously close to the tabletop, but amid the cheers and jeers of the crowd he rightened himself again, still grinning.

“So, who do you think is going to win?” someone behind Garrus asked. He didn’t take his eyes off the combatants as he answered; he didn’t want to miss anything.

“If this was a test of explosive power, Jack would win hands down. When Shepard and I recruited her from the Purgatory, I saw her lift 5 ton mechs and toss them like ragdolls. However, she doesn’t have the training to keep up biotic strength like that for long. Grunt’s got her beat there. Krogans have explosive strength—ask anyone who’s been on the receiving end of a charging krogan can attest to that. But krogan also have stamina, they are built for endurance.

“The longer Grunt drags this out, as he’s been doing, the more and more tired Jack is getting. Taunting her is also giving him and edge as she loses concentration and uses her energy up faster. I’m pretty sure Grunt’s gonna—“

The crowd erupted with a mixture of cheers and boos as Grunt slammed Jack’s arm onto the table top, then hopped up, arms raised in victory. Jack looked pretty tired but extremely pissed. She was massaging her arm, trying to get some feeling back into it. Kenneth was taking money and handing it out to the proper winners as people grumbled good-naturedly.

“I am pure krogan, Jack,” Grunt said to the brooding convict. “Did you really think you stood a chance?”

“Come off it, lizard-breath. How ‘bout best two out of three?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re exhausted. If I’m going to defeat you, it’s when you’re at full strength.”

“You saying I’m done?” Jack stomped up to the Krogan, and the two stared viciously at each other. “I’ve got enough energy to still kick your ass back to your tank, wanna try me?!”

“HEY, ENOUGH!” roared the person behind Garrus. Garrus turned to see Shepard behind him, arms crossed and hips cocked to the side, and the color drained from his face. Aw, crap, that’s her exceptionally irritated pose. To see that pose usually means she is either about to shoot you or, in the case of krogan, head butt you.

“I’m gone for an hour, and I come back to this? Garrus, what the hell is going on?”

Most of the crew had dispersed, but a few were now frozen, caught in the act by their Commanding Officer. Everyone, except Jack and Grunt, looked vaguely embarrassed.

“Just friendly competition, Shepard. Work out some grudges with as little damage to the crew and ship as possible,” Mordin explained for Garrus. “No need for anger. Was on hand for any injuries sustained. Actually quite informative.”

Shepard didn’t look like she was buying the explanation, but before she could speak again a shrill scream came from Miranda’s office. Everyone’s head moved to look up in time to see the door to her office open, and a gray and black blur race out.

C.O. tripped over the black, sheer, exceptionally lacey bra he was dragging behind him and became tangled in the ruffled material, tumbled end of end until he landed in a heap. A shocked silence fell over the crowd as everyone realized that it was, in fact, a bra that the kitten was currently trying to disentangle himself from, but his claws and teeth seemed trapped. He started kicked with his hind legs, trying to get himself free, a very slight tearing noise following suit.

Within seconds of C.O.’s triumphant arrival, Jacob came racing out of the room and snatched up the bra, with the poor kitten still very attached. His was completely naked from the waist up; it seemed only sheer stubbornness were keeping his undone pants on his hips as he tried to shake the kitten off.

He looked up to see almost the entire crew of the Normandy staring at him. Even Shepard was in disbelief. Jacob looked at her and nodded once. “Commander,” he deadpanned, before marching quickly back into the office, C.O. still hanging onto the bra by his teeth. The door closed behind him, but the silence seemed to echo until the door opened a few seconds later to C.O. flying out the door at high speed.

Just before the kitten could hit the floor, a blue glow enveloped him, and settled him onto the ground gently. Shepard looked over to see the last glow of Jack’s biotics fade away.

C.O. had landed on his back, so he wiggled himself right side up, then proceeded to start cleaning himself as though nothing had happened.

It was then the crowd finally erupted into boisterous laughter. There were tears pouring down Shepard’s face, and even Garrus was doubled over. Mordin was grinning and shaking his
head, and Jack was having a hard time breathing.

Grunt looked at the nonchalant kitten and chuckled. “Hehehe. Good to see your skills at infiltration are getting better. Next time, C.O., remember that you aren’t supposed to get caught.”

Jack leaned down and made little clicking sounds with her tongue. C.O. stopped his grooming and padded over to investigate. Jack started to pet him fondly. “You know, I think this might be the beginning of a workable partnership,” she said, picking the kitten up and handing him to Grunt.

With surprising Herculean strength C.O. was able to haul himself up the armor and atop the shoulder pad of the krogan. “Mreow!” the kitten announced, sitting straight and tall.

“You and me?” Grunt asked, eyeing her. Jack shrugged.

“Anyone who can put that cheerleader in her place is a friend of mine.”

“With your biotics and my might, we might even be able to make Shepard and Garrus quake in their boots,” the krogan said. Both he and Jack looked at the Commander and her turian partner with predatory glances.

Shepard and Garrus looked at each, a look of worry mirrored on each other’s face….

Chapter Text

The doctor turned around in her chair, eyes darting over the empty medical lab, a sigh falling from her lips. The engines quietly hummed, flying through space without a care. The medical equipment sat untouched, gathering dust.

Dr. Chakwas was bored out of her mind.

The older woman groaned as she stretched in her chair, back stiff from not moving in a long time. “We are on a dangerous suicide mission, traveling back and forth at the edge of the Terminus Systems! You take your ground squad with you almost every day, dealing with mercenaries or creatures in kill all or be killed scenarios, and despite all that, you manage to make me useless! Damn you, Shepard! How in the hell have you managed to keep me bored?!”

Despite her obvious irritation, there was a level of awe. Except for some scrapes, no one had been horrifically injured in any of Shepard’s adventures save Garrus, and he was healing up exceptionally well.

Chakwas knew the doctor in her was supposed to be glad for the lack of excitement, but the poor woman was a workaholic. She hated having to sit on idle hands, and this mission should have been giving her plenty of people to work on.

Instead, I’m sitting in an empty medical lab, feeling bored, tired, and old....

She hadn’t even finished the thought when heavy footsteps shook the floor underneath her, and the door to the lab whooshed open to Grunt standing there, looking…well, panicked, for lack of a better word. He was cradling something in his hands.

“Chakwas! CHAKWAS!!” he roared, and strode up to her. He shoved his hands toward her, and she saw his kitten, C.O. lying limp in his hands. “Something’s wrong with C.O.! Fix him!”

~*~

Grunt paced back and forth, unable to keep still as he watched Chakwas tap away on her omni-tool. C.O. was lying on a table, looking almost dead, his breath shallow.

“So?” Grunt asked. “What’s wrong with him?”

Chakwas didn’t answer immediately. She wasn’t a veterinarian so she was out of her field, but she was determined to try and help. It figures, doesn’t it? I desperately want a patient, and I get one that’s way out of my league.

Grunt’s foot stomps were not helping matters; it was making her a little jumpy. Krogans could make her a bit nervous, but normally she was able to push that fear aside.

She gently prodded C.O. throat, and he let loose with a little gargled mew.

“Don’t hurt him!” Grunt said.

“I’m not hurting him,” she said through clenched teeth. Something about Grunt was rubbing her the wrong way, making her lose her doctor’s patience.

C.O. tried to get to his feet, but fell back down onto the table with an exhausted sigh. A little “choo!” seemed to be ripped from his tiny body.

Chakwas stayed silent for several moments as she read the readout from her omni-tool.

“Chakwas, start talking already!” Grunt barked, not able to stand her stoic silence. “Is he…is he going to….argh!” He stopped, unable to continue his thought.

His inability to voice his concern turned into venting his anger. “Dammit, start talking female!”

“Don’t call me that! I’m not your inferior,” Chakwas snarled, whipping around to the stunned krogan. He wasn’t used to people actually snapping on him.

“C.O. is suffering from a cat’s version of a cold,” Chakwas explained with a venomous undertone. “It’s a common Earth disease. There’s nothing I can do about it, you just have to let it run its course. Just keep him warm, give him plenty of fluid, and let him sleep it off. He’ll bounce back in a few days’ time.”

Grunt stared at the doctor with icy eyes. Without a word he shouldered past her, almost knocking her to the ground with the force of his shove. He gently picked up the sick kitten and started stomping towards the door. Just before he left he turned back to her. The hurt in his eye was unmistakable.

“Sorry to be a bother, doctor,” he snapped. “I’ll go bother the Salarian next time. Don’t want to distract you from your work.”

With that, the doors shut behind him, and the older woman collapsed on the floor suddenly exhausted, anger and adrenaline vanishing from her body. She had not realized the amount of adrenaline that had been pumped into her body when she snapped on Grunt. Chakwas actually pinched her arm to make sure she was still alive.

She remembered the way she had snarled at the krogan, for no apparent reason, and pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation and sadness.

Grunt and Chakwas didn’t exactly have a stellar relationship to begin with. After all, she was the one who had to administer many of the boosters and shots when he had first been “born” to keep him from getting sick or spreading any diseases on the ship. Grunt was a tough krogan, but he still treated her warily, a boogieman he had to visit if he got hurt on a mission.

And in his time of need, when he was actually panicking, he had raced to her—and she had yelled at him. If she had been dealing with a child, they might have started to cry with the stress. Here he was, a child worrying that his pet might be dying, and she had the nerve to snap on him.

She reached over to the comm by her computer. “Shepard? Would you mind coming to the medical lab for a few minutes? I have something I need to talk to you about.”

~*~

Chakwas did not want to look up. She did noy want to see the expression Shepard might be wearing after hearing what Chakwas had just said to Grunt.

She had told the story staring at the tiled floor, but she knew she couldn’t avoid the Commander’s gaze forever. It was very rare for anyone to make the doctor feel intimidated, but the
Commander could do that to anyone she met. With a breath to steady herself, the doctor looked up to Shepard.

Shepard was leaning against a table, arms crossed, but one hand brushing her short red hair out of her face. “Why?” was all she asked.

“I don’t know, Shepard. I was irritated and he just….pushed my buttons, I guess,” Chakwas said. It sounded lame even to her.

“Grunt does that to everyone he meets,” Shepard said matter-of-factly. “That doesn’t mean you can snap on him like that.”

“I know. It was unprofessional. I’m so sorry, Shepard. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Dr. Chakwas.”

Chakwas looked at her, a look of surprise on her face. “You want me to go down there and apologize?”

Shepard raised an eyebrow at the question. “Let me ask you this: if I had done to Grunt what you did, would you let me get away with that?”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’d tell you to get your backside downstairs and apologize immediately.”

Shepard gestured to the doctor. “There you go.”

“But…shouldn’t someone go with me? Garrus or yourself? To at least keep him from killing me on sight?”

“I’m sure he won’t kill you. Maim you, maybe, but not kill you.”

Chakwas sighed. “That’s surprisingly uncomforting, Commander.”

Shepard shrugged. “He won’t kill you because if he does, he’ll have to cross me, and I’m his Battlemaster. Close as I can tell a krogan doesn’t challenge his clan leader or Battlemaster unless he’s looking for a fight to the death.”

The red-haired woman sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m pretty sure you hurt Grunt’s feelings, and betrayed him in a way. He trusted you with C.O.—that says something considering he’d rather be looked at by Mordin after missions than come to you.”

“Thank you, Commander. It’s good to know that I can frighten away grown krogan with hardly any effort on my part. Just my very presence can apparently send them scurrying.”

Shepard looked at the doctor without a hint of humor in her young face.

“If this were any other ‘normal’ mission I’d say to let it go, and leave him alone and let him cool down. But with the Collectors able to show up any time, I need my team united, ready to fight and maybe even die together. I can’t afford to let these little arguments hang in the air; it’ll just make it impossible for anyone to breathe before long. There’s too much riding on this.”

Shepard sobered Chakwas’ mood. “Of course, Commander. I’ll head down there and give him my most sincere apologies.”

“Thanks, doc. By the way, why did you snap on him?”

“It’s nothing,” the doctor said, trying to wave away Shepard’s inquiry.

The Commander simply looked at her. “Seriously, Chakwas; what’s the problem?”

It’s not like I can do anything to further embarrass myself, Chakwas thought.

“I’ve just been a bit…antsy, Commander. Bored, actually.”

“You’re bored.” Shepard deadpanned. “That’s what’s been bothering you?”

Chakwas threw her hands up. “Yes, Commander, I’m bored! Except for some scrapes and bruises no one ever gets hurt on your ground missions, not matter how hairy they are. This entire mission should be a suicide mission and I have nothing to do for the most part. I’m a doctor; my job is to help people. But you’ve managed to keep me twiddling my thumbs!”

Chakwas waited for Shepard to stare at her, to call her a monster or a freak. That would be a normal response to a doctor saying “There’s not enough injured people! I’m bored!”

Instead, Shepard actually gained a little grin on her face. “That’s pretty understandable. All you do, your job and your passion, is to get your hands dirty and help injured soldiers. Guess
I haven’t been giving you many of them to work on, have I?”

“I…actually didn’t think you’d understand, Commander.”

“I’ve known you for years, Chakwas. You’re a great doctor and an even better human being. You’re also a workaholic. Until you find a hobby, healing is all you know.”

“Maybe I should take up knitting?” the doctor suggested with a smile.

Shepard chuckled. “Hell no. I refuse to have a crazy cat lady on my ship.” She started to walk towards the door, but turned before exiting. “So, if I make Miranda trip in front of a charging krogan, you’ll be happy?”

“I’ll take any work at this point, Shepard.”

“Go patch things up with Grunt, and consider your wish granted.” Shepard said and left without warning, leaving Chakwas to wonder if she would actually do that to Miranda….

~*~

Chakwas found being downstairs on the engineering deck odd, to say the least. She very rarely left the lab to make house calls-her patients usually came to her. And they were usually human. The alien specialists Shepard was enlisting usually went to Mordin if they had any medical issues—not to say that Chakwas wasn’t skilled in xenological medicine (she was well versed in it), it was just the way it usually worked out.

The doctor did find Mordin endearing, even if a bit blunt. And his renditions of Gilbert and Sullivan always made her laugh. Maybe she’d go visit the Salarian after this was over….

She froze just before the doors to the cargo hold, Grunt’s “quarters.”

In her mind, she knew Shepard had only spoken truth. This mission was far too important to be jeopardized by any bad blood between the crew.

In her heart, she knew she had wronged the young krogan earlier, and wanted desperately to fix the situation before it became more awkward or even hostile.

Her body, however, refused to let her walk through the doors to confront a still-angry krogan, even if she was doing it solely to apologize. There were just certain things you did not do
if you wished to continue living.

Come on, now, Chakwas thought sternly to herself. You have to make things right. And you heard the Commander—he won’t kill you. Maim you, probably, but you’ll probably live to see another day.

With a deep breathe, she strode forward and into the cargo hold before her nerves could get the best of her.

The first thing she noticed as she walked into the hold was an exceptionally loud rumbling noise. Not being a native to the deck, Chakwas assumed it was some type of machinery that
she was not familiar with. She rounded the corner to see Grunt peering into a battered cardboard box; the rumbling got louder and changed pitch several times. She stopped mid-stride as she realized the rumbling had very words to it.

She realized that Grunt was, in fact, making the odd rumbling noise, a guttural sound that was rhythmic and chant-like.

He was singing to whatever was in the box, C.O. most likely.

Grunt stopped and glanced at the awestruck doctor, who was standing there stupidly, unsure if it was safe to interrupt.

“What do you want, doctor?” the krogan growled.

Chakwas blinked, and stood a little straighter, trying to regain her professional air. “I was coming down to…um…check on the patient.” She tried to say something that was fairly innocent. Unfortunately, this had the exact opposite effect on the krogan.

Grunt narrowed his eyes into daggers that seemed to hit every weak part of her body. “What? Think a krogan’s too stupid to put something to sleep? You made yourself perfectly clear; I can handle things myself.” His voice was level, but loaded with venom.

This was a bad idea, I should’ve left well enough alone. Or at least given him time to cool down a bit…damn you Shepard! Dammit, dammit….No, I can’t give up. I have to fix this.

Most other sentient creatures would have high-tailed it from the deck completely if Grunt had spoken to them with such accusatory venom. However, Chakwas was a woman who had spent her entire career caring for sick and wounded Alliance soldiers—it was almost impossible to scare her away. Especially when she knew she had been in the wrong.

Grunt had turned back to the box, giving Chakwas the opportunity to approach him slowly.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she slowly walked up to him. Grunt only glanced at her, but did not move or make any threatening gestures as she came closer.

“Making him feel better,” the krogan said.

“By….singing?” she could not help but inquire.

He shrugged. “Many of the things Okeer taught me in the tank were of battles won and lost, of krogan honor and pride, how to fight and how to win. But he also gave me little pieces of our culture. These pieces held no meaning, nor did they make sense until I was on Tuchanka. Then and there those pieces made sense.” Pausing, he looked in the box, and stroked the little kitten inside. “It’s a healing chant. The shaman of Clan Urdnot taught me, when I explained my confusion of the thoughts Okeer tried to teach me. It’s supposed to help the blood clear, to get the body back into shape.”

Chakwas stood a few steps away from him, mouth slightly agape in surprise. Her dealing with Grunt was so rare she had never heard him speak like this. She had always known there was a reason Shepard had taken to krogan for some reason, but she had assumed it was because of his muscle and aggressive nature. But now, she could see there was something to the young krogan….was there a heart of gold under all that armor?

“I, um….I came down here to apologize, Grunt.”

Grunt looked up from the box at the doctor, eyes still narrowed, but staying quiet.

Chakwas rubbed her hands together in a slightly nervous manner. “I was exceptionally rude, and I came down here to say I’m sorry.”

The kogran waved away her apology. “You have no reason to be sorry. I displayed weakness, a useless trait among strong krogan. Clan leader Wrex wouldn’t have acted like that.
Neither would the shaman.” His voice dropped until almost inaudible, but Chakwas still heard him. “Neither would have Shepard.”

“Nonsense,” Chakwas said, wanting to pat his arm or shoulder to comfort him, but restraining herself. Grunt looked at her with unbelieving eyes. “No, really. To care for another creature is not foolish or weak. In fact, in takes a certain degree of strength to be willing to put another being’s health and wellness before one’s own self.”

Grunt looked unconvinced, so Chakwas tried another tactic. “When you’re on a ground mission with Shepard, you take hits for her, don’t you? And she for you?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. We are krantt. We watch each other’s’ backs and kill our enemies together.”

She gestured towards the box. “Exactly. And C.O. is part of your krantt, isn’t he?”

There was a silence for a few moments as Grunt thought the question through. His mood seemed to lighten some and he nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“You weren’t weak earlier, Grunt. You were worried, that’s all. Perfectly normal for someone who’s got a sick animal and doesn’t know what to do about it.”

“It’s just….this is the first time I can prove myself to Shepard,” he said quietly. He looked at the doctor, and for the first time there didn’t seem to be any hostility in those baby blues. “I came from the tank ready to fight, but had no reason to. Shepard took me to Tuchanka, and fought alongside me in my Rite of Passage. But this…” he looked back down into the box and cleared his throat “he, he’s my first real responsibility. Shepard wanted me to watch out for him and make him a real warrior. If something happened to him…I can’t let my Battlemaster down. I can’t let myself down.”

“Asking for help is not a letdown. If you didn’t do anything and C.O. died, then yes, that would be a letdown. But you doing your damnedest to make sure he stays healthy is not a weakness. It’s admirable.”

Grunt shrugged, the odd wall he had let down for the past few minutes already going back up. Chakwas wondered if he ever spoke to Shepard so candidly. The older doctor felt a little prideful that the krogan had told her as much as he had.

“So, Grunt, do you accept my apology?”

He looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he said. She saluted to him.

“Now, then, may I please see C.O.?” Chakwas asked in a nice but professional way. “I want to check his vitals since I’m down here.”

The krogan stepped aside, and as Chakwas peered inside the box she paused for a moment, a confused grin spreading across her face.

“Grunt, is C.O. sleeping in the cup of a bra?”

The krogan shrugged. “I dunno. I get rid of them but he keeps bringing them back. Looks like the one he snatched from Miranda a while back.”

“I remember hearing about that. Wish I’d actually seen it. Had to set some of Joker’s ribs back in place because he had been laughing so hard after watching the episode on the video feed,” the doctor said fondly. C.O. was asleep, but fidgeting a bit, and a whimpered mew came from him.

Chakwas stepped back, and found Grunt watching her carefully.

“He’s stable for now,” she told him. “Make sure he drinks and sleeps plenty, and he should be ok.”
Grunt nodded, and Chakwas waved her goodbye, feeling exceptionally light-hearted, a smile creeping over her face. Even if he was never that candid with her again, just knowing that they could be friendly made the doctor happy. It’ll make Shepard happy too, knowing we were able to set aside our differences.

Just before the doors closed, she could hear a guttural rumbling sound coming from the hold. It was loud, and rhythmic, and sounded almost like chanting….

Chapter Text

She had only been reading for a short while when a strange howl seemed to echo up from the very bowel of the Normandy, carried up by the vents and ducts. It sounded like a mixture of anger and frustration, and was amazingly clear despite the fact that her cabin was nestled in the top of the ship.

Shepard jumped at the faint sound, but after a moment and neither EDI nor Joker calling her on the comm to tell her about an emergency arising, she settled back down onto the couch to keep working.

The Commander had learned early on, as all officers did, that one does not question many noises on a military ship like the Normandy. For one, the crew does not trust a nosy commander peering over their shoulder at all times. She let them have their space, they did their jobs, and so the mission went as smoothly as possible with few problems.

For another, with high stress missions like the one they were on, crew members got….antsy. And usually dealing with stress meant fighting it out or fucking it out. If it was the former, then Shepard or Garrus would supervise a sparring match and bygone would be bygones.

If it was the latter, then Shepard did not want to know or care what anyone did. She was a first-hand witness to the power of stress reduction Garrus’ “reach” had had on her, so if anyone wanted to go that route she completely understood and even recommended it.

Her only rule on the matter was that they could not get so carried away they’d hurt themselves and jeopardize the mission at hand. Kinky was fine. Injury was stupid.

All this crossed her mind as the howl receded back from wherever it came. Oh, right. Forgot about C.O. she thought to herself. Ever since she’d brought the kitten on board a few weeks ago, howls of pain and frustration where becoming more and more common. Chaos seemed follow the cat around like a black rain cloud—

The doors to Shepard’s cabin swooshed open and Garrus stomped in, looking madder than hell. He began pacing back and forth between the door and the little room that was the living/bedroom, unsure where to go or what to do, it seemed. It was obvious he was mumbling and growling to himself, but his translator seemed unable to reveal what he was saying.

Without warning, he slammed a fist into a wall, leaving a barely notable dent, but never stopped his pacing.

“Garrus, what’s wrong?” Shepard asked quickly, but calmly, trying not to panic. She’d never seen the turian so angry before, to the point where he seemed unable to even talk. Usually his broody sense of sarcasm revealed his true emotions—he never really acted out like this.

“Somebody’s been fucking with my goddamn calibrations!” he snarled, barreling past her to throw himself onto the bed. The unfortunate furniture groaned and creaked under the full weight of the angry turian still in his full armor as he plopped himself down.

“What are you talking about?” the Commander asked, sliding onto the strained bed to try and comfort him by putting an arm over his shoulder. She waited calmly for him to explain.
Garrus took a few deep breathes, trying to calm himself back down. The sniper was used to always being in control of his emotions. Outbursts like these were just as weird for him to go through as they were to witness.

“Someone’s been messing with the calibrations I’ve been doing in the Main Battery. It’s been happening every night for the past five nights. I leave the battery and the calibrations done.
I go back in the morning and it’s been sabotaged.” His shoulders sagged, and he looked exhausted, anger replaced with depression.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Shepard asked. The turian shrugged.

“It wasn’t really a big deal at first. First couple mornings it was small things, more of an annoyance than a problem. But every day it got worse. Now it’ll take me a whole day if not longer to set that cannon straight again.”

Garrus dropped his head into his hand and sighed. Poor guy, Shepard thought, he looks so tired. All those hours of work, gone. I get why he’s been extra grumpy the past few days.

“Do you have any idea who could’ve done it?”

“No, but my money’s on one of the engineers,” Garrus said in a conspirator’s whisper, catching Shepard off guard.

“Donnelly or Gabby? No, no way.” The two engineers were the most likable members of the Cerberus crew. Shepard had gone down to Engineering to play Skyllian Five with them several times. She felt that she would have picked up on their evil intentions while he dealt the hands.

“Are you sure you aren’t just keep forgetting to hit the ‘save’ button before you turn in for the night?”

Garrus gave the Commander an odd look, like he wasn’t sure if she had been kidding…or serious. “It doesn’t work like that, Shepard,” he slowly.

She threw up her hands. “Hey, I shoot things, I don’t fix them, and I certainly don’t calibrate them. Just thought I’d cover all the bases, Garrus.”

“Look, it’s gotta be someone with engineering experience, someone who knows the ins and outs of the calibration solutions. Plus, they’re Cerberus! Not exactly an alien-friendly group last I remember.”

“But why do that? Messing with your calibrations doesn’t just annoy you, it puts the whole ship in danger, especially if the Collectors try to hit us again,” Shepard mused.

Garrus growled. “I don’t know! Maybe, maybe they did it to try and…get between us. Make you not trust me anymore? I don’t know!”

Shepard spoke firmly before he could work himself up into another rage. “Look, instead of making wild accusations, why don’t you just watch the security footage for the past few nights?” Shepard suggested. She knew there were cameras all over the ship.

“I took out the cameras after I made my bunk in there,” he said matter-of-factly.

She looked at him, an eyebrow raised quizzically. “But…why?”

“I didn’t like the idea of Joker spying on my when he damn well pleased. It was….distracting,” he said. “Plus, I was sleeping in there at the time, which made the whole idea even more awkward.”

“Thank god no one else has realized that or nothing on this ship would ever get done,” the Commander said, shaking her head. “Don’t turian ships have security monitors?”

“Yes, but that’s….different. No one came over the PA system to say ‘You’re doing it wrong!’ at random intervals while I’m working.”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. Yep, that sounded exactly like something Joker would do. I have to keep myself entertained somehow, Commander, she could hear him say.

“Alright, I can see how that would be distracting,” she said. “So, what are you going to do? Put GPS trackers in their food to see where Kenneth or Gabby go afterwards? Booby-trap the main battery?”

Garrus chuckled at her imagination. “I actually had something a little less high-tech in mind. A good old-fashioned stake-out should do the trick.”

~*~

There was very little standing space in the Main Battery to begin with, but finding a spot large enough to hide a fully armored turian was a bit of a challenge, to put it mildly.

Garrus was working on removing the screws holding an access panel on the wall. If there was a space behind it, he hoped it would be large enough to suit his purposes.

Shepard didn’t speak, she just continued to lean against the console, arms crossed, watching the turian work. After a few moments, she sighed. “And you just can’t set up a camera tonight because…?”

“I want to see it for myself,” Garrus stated simply. “I want to catch them red-handed. I want to see their expression that crosses their eyes as they walk in here. Are they nervous, or calm? Will their fingers be shaking or still as they tap away on the keys? I want to see it for myself, and I want to be here when they turn to leave and see me blocking the door.”

The fiery-headed Commander didn’t speak for a moment. I knew Garrus was pissed earlier, but to go this far…there’s more to this than he’s letting on. He’s not just angry, he’s worried. It would be pretty stupid for me to tell him not to trust his gut on this I guess but…I just can’t see the engineers up to something like this! We have to figure out what’s going on, harebrained scheme or no.

The final bolt fell into the turian’s waiting hand. With a grunt of effort Garrus pulled the panel off the wall to access the space behind. Shepard walked up behind him and then peered inside as he moved for her to see.

“You actually think you can fit in there?” Shepard asked. It didn’t seem large enough for her to squeeze in, never mind Garrus in his armor.

The turian cracks his neck. “It’ll be tight, but I’ve been in worse spots.”

For some reason Omega flickers through her mind, but she doesn’t say so. “But, all night? What if you have to go to the bathroom?”

Always pragmatically minded, my Jane, Garrus thought. “Just let me worry about the small details,” he states with a grin.

She shook her head with a sigh. “So, to recap. You’re going to squeeze behind an access panel into a pretty cramped space to catch a supposed saboteur that may or may not actually exist/show up, and you’re going to wait here all night.”

“You’ve got the main points down.”

“No offense, Garrus, but this is probably one of the stupidest things I’ve heard in a while. This is the exact reason that cameras were invented.”

Garrus’ lighthearted demeanor vanished. “This isn’t about the cannon. This isn’t about the safety of the Normandy, although that’s certainly an important issue. This, for whatever reason, has gotten personal, and I want to find out why.”

Shepard felt a slight shiver run up her spine at his intense gaze. The Garrus Vakarian standing before her was not the C-Sec officer ready to prove his worth in the big, bad universe.

This wasn’t Archangel, the man who took matters into his own hands to deal damage to the mercenaries on Omega, for the good of the innocent lives still there.

No, this was the Garrus Sidonis’ betrayal had created. Cold, hard, vengeful. Willing to get his hands dirty to make things fit into his black and white vision of the galaxy. Shepard pitied anyone who entered the Battery this night.

She knew he wouldn’t give up. At least if she helped him, she could keep the causality list to a minimum. “Alright, Garrus. Let’s catch us a saboteur.”

~*~

Okay, maybe this wasn’t my most brilliant plan, Garrus thought to himself. He tried to move his leg so the spur would stop digging into his side, but no avail. “Uncomfortable” could not accurately describe his current position. “Unbearably painful to the point of pulling something important because he wasn’t flexible enough to hold this particular position” was much more accurate, but a mouthful to say.

Lights out was at 10 p.m. aboard the Normandy, but many crew members did not actually turn in until around midnight, so it was around then that Garrus had returned to the battery to begin his stakeout. He was positive that whomever it was screwing with his calibrations would do it later in the night, when they were sure everyone was either asleep or safely tucked away in their personal quarters.

Like I could be right now….he thought to himself, imagining crawling into bed to sleep next to Shepard, her warm and soft skin still so inviting and alien to him. He had always believed the soft mattress somewhat uncomfortable, but it would be considered heavenly after this long night was over. She’ll never let me live this down if no one shows up….well, thank spirits at least I’m not claustrophobic.

Garrus was uncomfortable for two reasons. One was the fact the he had managed to tetris his body into a cubby hole that even Shepard had had a hard time working herself into earlier, and she didn’t have plates or spurs to hinder her in any way. Limbs were squished and crossed over each other to let his body fit, and he could hardly move.

Two was the fact that the only way he could fit was by leaving his armor behind in Shepard’s cabin. Dressed in only his civilian clothes, the turian felt incredibly naked and vulnerable without it on.

It’s going to be a long night….he sighed, and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable even though he knew it was an impossibility. Luckily the access panel itself was see-through; he could peer out through the hundreds of pinpricks to see an almost unobscured view of the Battery and the console, but he was effectively invisible. Please show up soon before I loose feeling to my everything, he silently hoped.

Dammit. I can’t even talk to Shepard to pass the time, Garrus lamented. Breaking radio silence and giving up his position would ruin the whole operation. It was a small comfort, however, that Shepard would be keeping an eye on the security feeds of the hallway leading to the Battery, and would call him if anyone appeared in the night.

He also realized that he couldn’t even listen to his music that he kept on his visor. Any noise, no matter how small, could give him away. So, without being able to talk or listen to music, Garrus’ mind and body entered into his sniper’s trance—the calm, almost meditative state he went in when sniping enemies.

And, as often was the case, when his mind began to wander, it wandered toward a certain red-haired human….

Commander Jane Shepard. Hero of the Citadel. Savior of the Universe. Hero of the Blitz. Spends most of her time helping people who are too stupid or lazy to help themselves, but she does so with a smile, mostly happy to help. Hates reporters, especially those who call her a coward.

He paused for a moment, thinking about his little list of “Shepard Facts,” the little quirks that made Shepard unique. He always kept it in mind, and liked to add to it when he was bored.

It helped him remember who she was.

Shepard is a soldier through and through. Can master any weapon she picks up, but shotguns, assault rifles, and sniper rifles are her favorites. Hates it when anyone calls her by her first name “Jane.” Has a soft spot for fish, but can’t keep them alive for more than a day.

Oh, and kittens. She has a thing for them. And dashingly handsome turians.

Garrus’ head-up display on his visor revealed he had been in the cubby for over an hour. He couldn’t feel his left leg, right arm, or his right thumb. The last one was odd, but he was able to shift enough to start feeling the pinpricks of returning circulation in his thumb and arm.

Come on, spirits, someone show up already! I could be sleeping with Shepard….no, I could just be sleeping at this point. But no, I’m stuck here, waiting.

As much as he wanted someone to blame, there was only one person he could blame for his current predicament. Me and my brilliant ideas. It’s a good thing Shepard’s in charge.....

Omega suddenly loomed in his mind. The faces of his team mates appeared as well. Memories of them sharing drinks at Aftermath; of a morning before a particularly good day of pissing off the mercenaries only to disappear without a trace afterwards. We were invincible, and I let it get to my head.

Sidonis was there, too. The human saying “hindsight is 20/20” appeared true. In his mind, on the morning of the betrayal, he could see the other turian’s dodgy behavior, but attributed it too nerves. It never occurred to me why he was so nervous.

A fist formed, and Garrus wanted to do nothing more than put it through the wall, or Sidonis’ face. Just as the old anger had flared up, it started to recede; it seemed that after seeing the walking corpse that was Sidonis, Garrus was still unable to keep a hold on his anger. Sidonis was a “dead man walking” as Shepard called him once. There was nothing left to the turian but nightmares and life-draining guilt. It’s what he deserves.

The noise was so small, he almost missed it in his musings, but his sniper’s training had kicked in, and he was already trying to pinpoint the source of the sound even before he realized he had heard it.

There it was again. A small, tinny sound. Almost like exceptionally light feet walking on a sheet of buckling metal.

Nothing from Shepard, so it’s not from outside. But if I didn’t know any better I’d think that was coming from a vent somewhere—

A small vent from the floor pushed open, and a small, gray, fuzzy creature tumbled end over end out of the opening. The vent closed behind C.O. with a loud thunk! and the kitten shook his head, trying to regain his sense of balance.

If Garrus had been able to move he would have, as Shepard called it “facepalmed.” C.O.! He mentally tried to tell the kitten, growling under his breathe without thinking. Get out of here! This is a high-priority mission that I will not allow you to screw up! Go back to your box, you stupid little furball!

Unfortunately, C.O. was quite disrespectful of Garrus’ mental commands and continued to wander around the room, thoroughly investigating every nook and cranny. He eventually walked up to the console, and stared up at it for a few minutes.

If possible, Garrus would have crawled out of the cubby hole, shoved the kitten back into its vent, and bolted it back shut before the creature could start to meow at the ear-splitting decibel he had learned to do. The turian would have sworn the kitten had learned that trick just to summon Grunt whenever someone didn’t scratch its ears fast enough.

With an amazing grace and power, C.O. launched himself into the air suddenly, landing halfway up the side. Claws digging into the smooth surface, he hauled himself up the console quickly and rolled onto the top.

Garrus watched, slightly slack-jawed, as the kitten walked over to a certain button and pushed it purposefully. The console came alive with floating holograms, which the kitten started batting about. He began an acrobatic dance of swatting at some buttons, running around on top of the console, jumping up and down and rolling around in general.

The kitten was apparently having a fantastic time in his glowing playground.

Garrus was still having a hard time digesting the fact that….The saboteur is….C.O.?

Garrus blinked a couple time. The saboteur is C.O.

It finally clicked.

A goddamn kitten was the one fucking up my calibrations?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I SPENT THE PAST FEW HOURS ALMOST BREAKING MY BODY TO CATCH C.O. ON MY CONSOLE?!!

The kitten was too preoccupied to see Garrus carefully lower the access panel, carefully crawl out and try to realign his spine and limbs. C.O. was rolling around and mewling happily to himself. When the hand grabbed him by the nape of the neck and hauled him up, he curled into his little ball and looked into Garrus’ blue eyes with his own and said “Meow?”

“You…it was you….you little….son of a bosh’tet!” Garrus paused slightly to realize that it was, in fact, a quarian curse he had just uttered. Too much time around Tali, it seems.

Garrus wanted to kill him, right then and there, but he couldn’t. If not for the fact that Shepard would never forgive him, Grunt would come after him. It would end painfully for everyone involved.

C.O. didn’t understand why Garrus was mad at him. He had not done anything wrong! He decided to try and fix things, the best way he knew how. With an amazing surge of power, C.O. twisted free of Garrus’ talons and landed on the console. Before he could grab the kitten again, C.O. raced up his arm and started rubbing his body against Garrus’ face and the back of his neck, purring all the while.

“Don’t try to butter me up, you little piece of-“ Suddenly, a bolt of a lightning seemed to shoot right down his spine to his groin, and a low rumble escaped his throat before he could respond. It happened again, and he had to bite down hard to keep from purring.

Whether by accident or design, C.O. was rubbing against the back of Garrus’ neck and was hitting a certain nub under his fringe, a notorious erogenous zone for turians. Poor Garrus didn’t stand a chance against the unknowing kitten’s ministrations as his pants became uncomfortably tight….

His original plan had been to return the kitten to Grunt’s quarters and spend the rest of his night sleeping in the soft mattress curled up next to Shepard. He tried to grab C.O., but the kitten dug his claws into the collar-like hump surrounding Garrus’ neck and refused to let go.

Oh, for the love of all the spirits! Garrus thought, his civilized mind trying to give way to his primal urges. He bolted for the elevator that lead to Shepard’s cabin, C.O. still attached. He had to take care of this. He needed Shepard now.

~*~

Shepard was sitting on the bed and reading a datapad when Garrus arrived unexpectedly. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened in the Battery when her eyes focused on the gray ball of fur holding on for dear life as Garrus strode by.

“Garrus, is that C.O…?” she asked incredulously, but he didn’t speak. Instead he continued past her and got to the bathroom. With a careful but determined grip he plucked the kitten off of his collar and tossed him in the bathroom. “Stay,” he simply said. “Meow?” C.O.’s question was cut off as Garrus closed the door on him.

“Garrus, what the hell is-” The commander’s question was cut off as Garrus tackled her to the bed. The look of unrequited lust in his eyes was the all the explanation he gave.

~*~

As Garrus finished his story, Shepard couldn’t help but start to laugh her ass off. C.O. was currently lying on his back between the lovers, purring like crazy as Shepard’s fingers danced over his fuzzy belly. She’d let him out when she and Garrus’ frenzied tryst was over. He had been amazingly quiet and well-behaved in the bathroom, for which Garrus was thankful for.

Nothing would have ruined the mood more than “Meow? Meeeeeeeeeeoooooooowwww?”

He had been angry. Angry and irritated to the point of wanting to kill the little creature, but the sheer stupidity and hilarity of the situation was starting to lighten his mood. And seeing Shepard laugh usually made him feel better.

“At least it wasn’t one of the engineers,” Shepard sighed. “A vent we can fix, but replace a traitorous crew member? I don’t want to even think about that conversation with the Illusive Man.”

“I’m sure their treachery would have been good for all humankind….somehow.”

C.O. suddenly hopped up and bounced to the end of the bed to start cleaning himself.

“So, what should we do with him?” Garrus asked. “I don’t think Grunt will find the hilarity of this whole thing so….hilarious.”

“So we can’t tell him C.O. knows how to push your buttons. Literally,” Shepard said with a mischievous grin.

“I would shoot you, Shepard. And not with concussive round this time, either.”

Shepard simply laughed and snuggled up next to him, her soft curves a perfect complement to his more angular body. They were both exhausted and started to nod off about the same time.

Garrus was almost asleep when a warm ball of fur curled up the top of his hip, purring all the while. Damn you for being so likable, cat, he thought. Damn you….

Chapter Text

The meeting was scheduled for 6:00pm exactly. It was now 5:57. It would take exactly 34 seconds to walk from the tech lab where Mordin was currently working to the Communications Room. He had plenty of time to get there, which made the Salarian smile.

He looked around the lab one more time. The tools were put in their specific locations, the samples quietly humming in the synthesizer. Everything was ready for when he returned to the lab in a few hours for another day of work and discovery.

Looking at his omni-tool, the digital clock changed to 5:58. Time to go, he thought merrily to himself. The doors opened, and right in front of them was a gray kitten, lying on his back and stretched out incredibly long. “Meoooooooooow!” C.O. announced.

To say that Mordin jumped might have been an exaggeration. It might be more accurate to say he “moved backwards in an exceptionally graceful and vertical fashion.”

Mordin, now several feet further backwards than when he started, gave the kitten a disapproving glare. “Not polite to scare innocent scientists. Now step aside.”

He tried to walk past the cat as quickly as possible, only for C.O. the sit up and plop himself right back down in Mordin’s way. The Salarian tried to walk around him the other way and
C.O. moved in his path again. “Meow?”

“This not a humorous scenario, C.O.! Must get past you for important meeting. Now move!” Mordin said with as much authority as possible.

C.O. looked up at him and started walking towards him, attempting to weave his way in and out of the salarian’s legs, trying to rub against him. Mordin moved backwards quickly, trying to keep the cat from touching him. He backed into a desk, and without thinking climbed on top of it in record time.

C.O. sat at the foot of a chair, head tilted in a questioning manner. “Why in the world are you up there? I’m down here!” he seemed to be thinking. “Mreow?” was what he said.

The former STG operative shook his head. Ridiculous situation. Can fight on ground with Shepard without problems. Can study the most vicious of diseases without fear. Thought having C.O. aboard Normandy would alleviate fear of cats. Apparently hypothesis false.

Mordin understood the aesthetic appeal of cats to some people and he had seen many cats on Omega, as he had explained when C.O. had first come aboard. However, what he hadn’t revealed was his deep-seated fear of cats he’d gained after having one attack him without provocation. It had left him not only covered in painful cuts and gashes, but he was also on the receiving end of a series of excruciatingly painful rabies shots. Rabies shots for humans hurt. Having an alien take the same medication was almost as deadly as the disease itself. After that, he gave cats a very wide berth.

A wide berth which C.O. was determined to close if his wiggling backside was any indication.

Mordin looked around the lab, trying to find anything that could help him against the fuzzy intruder. Then, he looked up, and a smile replaced his nervous frown when he spied the
access panel for the ventilation system. He glanced at his omni-tool. Might even make it to the meeting on time.

~*~

Miranda looked down at her omni-tool. “Where’s Mordin? He’s late,” she said.

Jacob shrugged. “He probably got caught up in some lab work.”

“No, something’s off,” Shepard agreed. “He’s never late. Ever. I think it’s a compulsion.”

“Probably has to do with the fact that as a species Salarians don’t live past 40. Make the most of every minute, you know?” said Garrus. Shepard nodded.

“Makes sense. Hell, even his shots on are time,” she added.

“How do you shoot ‘on time’?” Grunt asked, clearly curious.

“Whenever he comes with me on a ground mission, he’s careful with his shots, and only shoots when he can inflict the most damage with the least amount of effort.” Shepard turned to Garrus. “Has Mordin ever missed?”

“Maybe once, I think. Charging krogan can break anyone’s concentration, though. We can’t really count that.”

“Look, should someone go get him? I mean, this meeting is about his results in accordance the seeker swarms, after all,” Miranda interrupted with an impatient undertone.

“Got something to go do, Cerberus? Or someone?” Grunt asked with a chilly smile glancing at her and Jacob.

To his credit, Jacob ignored the krogan’s taunt. Miranda looked like she wanted to do nothing more than mop the floor with his broken body. It was funny that Jacob took the teasing much better than Miranda, seeing as he was the one who had to rescue her bra from the claws of a curious kitten.

In front of Shepard and a majority of the crew.

Miranda turned to Shepard. “So, can just anyone sit in on an officer’s meeting now? Is that how the Alliance runs its ships?” The Cerberus operative said, trying to take a dig at Shepard.

“No, but seeing as I’m flying under my own colors, I’m doing things a bit differently,” the Commander explained coolly, refusing to bite at Miranda’s bait.

While on Tuchanka, Wrex had expressed the idea of having Grunt run a small crew of his own—the young krogan was inexperienced but a quick study and a worthy fighter to boot. It seemed a good idea to show Grunt what it meant to be an actual leader, so she invited him to the meeting.

Sometimes, things and people fall into line. And sometimes, no matter how good the leader is, it can be compared to--What’s that old Earth expression?--“Herding cats.” I think it’s pretty damn close with this dysfunctional a crew. Shepard thought to herself.

And unfortunately, it wasn’t just Grunt that was making Miranda extra bitchy tonight—the gray kitten draped across his shoulder wasn’t helping her mood.

Apparently she still had not forgiven C.O.

Understandable, since the bra had been hand-made Asari lace, expensive and rare.

Just as Miranda opened her mouth to make a remark, a loud shuffling sound overhead made everyone jump back and pull their respective weapons. No alarms had been raised on the ship and EDI hadn’t alerted them to anything going on. But it was obvious that it wasn’t machinery—there was something in the vents right over their heads!

“What the hell is—“ Shepard’s question was cut off by a vent covering which dropped open and Mordin jumped down to land on his feet before them.

He shook his head a little and started brushing off his uniform, but he was perfectly clean. Not a cobweb or speck of dust ruined his perfectly white coat. “Normandy’s ventilation system cleanest I’ve ever had the pleasure to crawl through. Excellent job, EDI,” he congratulated.

EDI’s voice came over the speakers. “The ship’s systems must be maintained at the highest possible levels. Any debris could cause fatal engine failure. However, I appreciate the compliment, Professor.”

Mordin nodded and turned around to see Shepard, Garrus, Miranda, Jacob, and Grunt with weapons drawn and pointed at his chest. He put his hands up good-naturedly in the universal ‘I surrender’ gesture. “I’m unarmed, I assure you,” he said helpfully.

Shepard was the first to lower her gun, and the other followed suit. “Mordin! Why the hell where you in the vents?”

“The normal path was obscured. Had to take alternate route. Again, apologies for being-” He glanced at his omni-tool and grimaced “-2.34 minutes late.”

Shepard looked at him but decided not to press the issue. At that moment. She leaned close to whisper “I expect to be fully briefed later on, understand?”

“Completely Commander,” Mordin nodded. Get fears off chest. Air out secrets. Will be good for personal comfort.

Everyone took their seats, and he found himself sitting next to Grunt. He turned to nod at the krogan, but he stopped short when he found C.O.’s large blue eyes staring at him.

“But—how did you arrive so quickly?!” he asked. Even used Normandy’s blueprints to find fastest route!

Grunt glanced at him staring at C.O. “My legs are longer than his,” the krogan said obviously.

He glanced back to see C.O. looking at him with a smug, satisfied look.

As soon as meeting is over, am going to install anti-feline barrier around lab.

Chapter Text

~*~
Shepard knew something was horribly wrong when she read Tali’s email. Even in written words there was a tone present, of panic and despair. “Shepard, please meet me in engineering as soon as you can. Something’s come up and I need your help.”

It was short and simple, but the phrase “I need your help,” was the red flag. Tali was a proud Quarian and member of the flotilla-she did not ask for help unless she was desperate. She would rather work things out herself than have outside interference. Something was really wrong.

Maybe it has to do with that dying star she was observing, Shepard thought as she rode the elevator down to the engineering deck. Whatever it was, it had Tali worried, which made the commander a bit nervous as well.

“Shepard! Thank you for coming, something terrible has happened!” the young quarian exclaimed when she arrived.

“What’s going on, Tali?” Shepard inquired, all business. Tali paused a moment, wringing her hands nervously.

“I’ll tell you everything. But first, I have to know I can trust you. Fleet security may be involved, so no Cerberus involvement, okay?” Tali asked. The deck was void of Kenneth and Gabby, and so Shepard nodded without feeling slightly guilty. “Absolutely. You can trust me Tali.”

She nodded once. “Thank you. I just got a message from the Migrant Fleet. They have accused me of treason, of betraying the flotilla!” Her voice was oddly calm, and Shepard recognized it immediately as shock.

“That’s insane! Anyone who knows you would know you would never betray your people!” The Commander felt like she had been sucker punched herself. Tali must feel like Joker just ran over her with the Normandy!

“I’m….I’m scared, Shepard,” she said. Was there a wavier in her voice?

“They don’t lay charged like this unless the evidence seems absolute. But I do appreciate your faith in me, Shepard.” Tali leaned against her console, using it to keep herself upright so she would not collapse into a useless pile on the grated floor.

“Is it because you’re working for Cerberus?” Shepard asked.

“No. I’m not working for Cerberus, I’m working with you. I also got leave to serve on the Normandy again.” She gave a choked laugh, trying desperately to keep her emotions under control. “You’d think I’d remember betraying the fleet!”

“It’s alright, Tali. Just walk me through the process. What happens when a quarian is accused of treason?”

Tali explained the trial process, with the members of the Admiralty Board acting as judges. She explained how those convicted where exiled, and that there was no prison or death sentence. The young quarian let out a steadying breathe.

“My father is on the Admiralty Board. He’ll have to recuse himself…I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through right now….”

Shepard placed a comforting hand on Tali’s shoulder. “Don’t worry Tali, I’ve got your back. So, when do we need to get you there?”

Tali looked at the Commander, obviously caught off-guard by this question. “Um, well, I was actually going to book the passage on another ship. I didn’t think you could spare the time….”

Shepard simply gave her a “really?” look. “You stood by me when no one else would during the mission with Saren. I will always repay my debts, Tali. Besides, what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t help you now?”

Tali’s whole body to deflate slightly, but it was with relief. “Thank you, Shepard. I….just, thank you.” If Tali’Zorah had been another human, she might have tried to hug the Commander, but Quarians were very finicky about touch. So she simply hoped that the relief in her voice would portray her emotions.

Slowly walking over to the console, she began to type away. “I’m sending the coordinates of the fleet to Joker now. Whenever we can, we should head there quickly. The Admirals will wait, but not forever. If we don’t show up eventually, they will try me in absentia.”

“Don’t worry, Tali, we’ll get you there. I’m going to make sure everything’s ready and see if we can make the trip now.”

The Quarian paused and then nodded. “Thank you, Shepard.”

“No problem, Tali.”

~*~

The Commander left shortly afterward, more than likely to talk to Joker about setting a course for the fleet. If Shepard was anything, she thought and acted quickly when it came to well-being of her crew.

Shepard had promised to stand by her side, but Tali still felt overwhelmed with fear. The Commander’s calming nature had helped, but the Quarian was a worry-wart at heart.

Even after talking to Shepard, I still can’t believe it…treason! It couldn’t have anything to do with my father’s work, could it? No, no, I completely deprogramed those Geth pieces, I know I did! I just have to wait and hope Joker pushes this ship to its limits.

The two other human Engineers were still absent, so Tali felt small and alone in the room. Even on the Normandy SR-1 she was surrounded by other engineers, and on a Quarian ship there was hardly any space from privacy. She looked around the room and shook her head at all the unused space. If this were a Quarian ship, there wouldn’t be a spot the size of a heat sink where something isn’t stored. So much open space…it’s making me feel so out-of-place.

Tali knew she would not feel out-of-place for long. Despite the newcomers, Garrus and Joker were here, along with Shepard, and they would help her fit right in on the crew.

During the mission to stop Saren, the human commander revealed her unique regards of having alien crewmates, despite being the commander of an Alliance vessel. Though not as xenophobic as Cerberus, the human military held the usual wariness of aliens—after all the contact war with the Turians had yet to be completely regaled to the history books.

Shepard changed that, by not only accepting aliens, but by accepting them with open arms and mind. She even revealed herself to be almost as curious about alien cultures as any xeno-anthropologist, always questioning Garrus, Wrex, Liara, and Tali about their lives and people.

That was another thing that had set Shepard apart: her complete acceptance of a Quarian.

Of course, at the time Tali’Zorah had expertise and knowledge that Shepard needed, but to bring the young Quarian aboard and give her full access to the mechanics of the
Normandy….that was new. Most alien captains did not like to accept Quarians because of their fragile immune systems. Many ships simply did not have the means to keep a Quarian alive and in good health for very long, and fewer of those actually had the facilities to treat one having a severe allergic reaction. Quarians usually only served on Quarian ships for this reason.

The Commander had taken this in her stride, and simply upgraded her ships med-bay with all the medicine and machinery needed if an emergency arose. That was simply the way the commander worked.

It was then that Tali knew she could trust Shepard with her life.

It was now that Tali was glad to have such a steady captain in this dark time.

No, a steady friend, she corrected.

Still not in the right mindset to try and work, Tali decided to take a short walk, maybe go visit Garrus. Us dextro-animos have to stick together, he had once told her with a wink. The Turian was one of the few people Tali would consider a true friend, and they had a playful sibling-like relationship.

Garrus can be an ass, but I’d appreciate the company. I just don’t want to be alone right now.

Her mind made up, the Quarian started to walk towards the door and barely waited for it to open before trying to squeeze through—

--only to literally run into the tall Geth waiting on the other side.

Tali let out a small choked shriek as she jumped backwards, losing her balance and falling to the floor. With lightning reflexes she scuttled backwards into the engineering room, trying to put as much distance between her and the enemy. It was following her, coming after her, but a quick scan showed it wasn’t armed either. It held an arm out, trying to grab her….

Legion hadn’t expected anyone to be in the engineering deck, and he certainly hadn’t expected anyone to run into him, but especially not the only Quarian aboard!

He knew Shepard had brought a female Quarian aboard, and given him explicit instructions to not go near her. Before reaching a consensus on what to do having disregarded
Shepard’s order (though unintentional it was), Legion’s body moved to attempt to help the Quarian back to her feet, holding out a hand for her, but it only made her crawl backwards faster….

“Stay back!” Tali ordered, and pulled out her knife strapped in her boot. Brandishing the weapon did make the geth freeze, giving Tali a chance to climb to her feet, ready to slash at the geth’s important connector cables if it moved. The geth did not move towards her, and she noticed the giant hole in its chest. Combat damage? Her eyes darted from the hole to the red and white striped armor on its right arm, making her breathe hitch. That’s….Shepard’s armor! But…how…?

The puzzle pieces fell into place. Shepard must have demobilized this unit with a shotgun round (a weapon she was quite fond of), and had someone reprogram it to suit her needs. It must have been Garrus, no Cerberus, maybe? But the armor…I don’t understand that at all!

Legion stood and watched the Quarian carefully. She wasn’t attempting to hurt him, but she had the knife pointed at him. He recognized it as a defensive position, and also noticed that her body language was revealing signs of confusion and doubt. Since Shepard-Commander was not present, he decided to try and talk to the Quarian himself.

He lowered his head and the little metal flaps around his “light” moved slightly. “Creator Tali-Zorah vas Neema,” he greeted civilly. “This unit means you no physical or mental harm.”

Tali’s mouth dropped open slightly, and her hands shook a little, loosening her grip on the knife for a second, before tightening around it. I won’t fall for any geth trickery!

“How do you know who I am?” the young Quarian demanded, trying to sound strong and tough. However, there were a myriad of emotions woven throughout the question: fear, anger, surprise, and curiosity.

So many other questions also peppered her mind, but she kept the flood contained: how can you talk so I understand you? Why are you wearing part of Shepard’s armor? Who reprogrammed you?

“Shepard-Commander allowed this unit to read your dossier,” Legion explained. “Your bravery on Haestrom was well-documented.”

“Haestrom was a killing field, no thanks to your kind,” Tali spat with venom.

Legion’s eyebrows arched. “The heretics and the true geth are not one and the same. We strive to understand organics, but do not wish to go to war with them. We do not wish to go to war with you.”

Tali scoffed. “You had no problem exiling us from our own planet! But there’s no point in arguing with something that’s been reprogrammed. You aren’t a true geth—Shepard’s simply made you see her side of this fight.”

The quarian felt a little proud of herself for figuring it out on her own. Shepard…you never cease to amaze! Tali still could not decide if she was impressed with the commander or disgusted with her ingenious use of any enemy soldier—

“Shepard-Commander did not reprogram us. We approached the Commander of our own accord,” said Legion. Tali almost would have sworn the geth’s voice rang with indignation at the suggestion.

That made Tali’s blood run cold. If Shepard didn’t reprogram it, if it actually is acting of its own volition….then it’s still an enemy! It should be trying to kill me, why isn’t it?

The knife couldn’t have been the reason for the geth’s hesitation. Geth ran into bullet storms without flinching, taking damage from bullets and other weaponry that would instantly kill any other creature, even a krogan. Her knife, though sharp, couldn’t deal as much damage as a single bullet.

“If what you say is true, why did you seek out Shepard?” Tali didn’t believe the robotic being, and slowly inched her back towards the console. If I can keep it distracted with talking, maybe I can get to the console and call for back-up….

“This unit wishes to assist Shepard-Commander against the Old Machines. The heretic geth used gifts from the Old Machines to further themselves. This is not true geth.”

Old Machines? It couldn’t mean….the Reapers? “So you draw the line at using Reaper technology, but genocide is acceptable?” Her grip on her knife tightened, and Legion noticed her stance change from defensive to angry. Tali’Zorah vas Neema could attack at any moment, and he could not hurt her.

He would not do it.

“We did not attempt genocide. We were only defending ourselves after the Creator initiate to destroy us.”

Tali was barely listening, and had almost reaching the console—

“Had the situations been reversed, would your people not have done the same?”

She paused. She looked at the geth, and then at the knife she was pointing at it. “Yes, we would have done the same.”

Tali looked at the geth, who was still standing where she had told it to “freeze.” It could have killed her easily, even without a weapon, but it had only talked to her.

“Are you part of Shepard’s squad?” the quarian asked.

Legion’s flaps shifted. “We have accompanied Shepard-Commander on many missions.”

Tali let out a breath, and lowered her knife. “If Shepard trusted you enough to bring you with her on missions, I guess I have no choice to do the same.”

But I will be having a nice private talk with her later. She couldn’t even be bothered to tell me there was a fully functioning geth aboard the Normandy!

She leaned down to slip the knife back into her boot. “So, what’s your designation? Or does everyone just call you ‘Geth?’”

“‘We are Legion, for we are many,’” said the geth simply.

Tali nodded. She wasn’t going to go out of her way to be friends with the geth, but if they were going to be aboard the same ship she might as well try to be civil towards it—for now.

“Well, Legion, why are you down here?” She crossed her arms as she looked at the geth, still angry, still defensive, but trying to be nice. Since this was the first time she had seen the geth, he must not normally stay on the engineering deck.

“This unit resides in the A.I. Core when not accompanying Shepard-Commander on missions.” He began turning his “flashlight” head around the room, as though scanning for something. “Currently, our objective is to locate mobile platform ‘C.O.’”

“ ‘C.O.’? Shepard’s the Commanding Officer, and you just missed her.” Now go away you stupid machine!

“We did not mean Shepard-Commander. C.O. is a juvenile Earth feline that belongs to the krogan Urdnot Grunt. We were asked to watch over its well-being but it has eluded us.”

Grunt has a pet? Tali simply shook her head at the strangeness of the new Normandy. Run by Cerberus, Shepard’s resurrected, gotten together with Garrus, there’s a geth aboard and a krogan has a pet.

“Well, it’s not in here,” Tali said. “And I’ll let you know if I see it.”

Legion was about to agree with the creator when movement caught his eye. He turned to see a little gray blur emerging from the shadows and running as fast as it could towards Tali.

“Creator! Intruder!” Legion tried to cover the several steps distance as fast as he could to catch C.O., but Tali moved backwards at the geth’s sudden movement, that much closer towards the bounding kitten.

“Legion! What are you—ahh!”

C.O. made a flying leap and landed on Tali’s leg, and attempted to climb up, probably to sit on her shoulder like he did with Grunt. His sharp claws tore open several holes in her suit, and pierced the skin. In battle situations the material of her suit was stiffed with electric currents, making it stiff like armor. On the relative safety of the Normandy, the suit was not charged, making it more flexible, comfortable--and more susceptible to sharp cat claws.

“Little bosh-tet! Ahh!” Tali snarled, trying to shake the kitten off. After a few violent shakes he fell, only after leaving several deep scratches on her leg. Gone just as quickly as he had appeared, the kitten disappeared without a trace, probably scared off at her actions.

The hiss of released pressure from the suit filled the room, and Legion arrived just in time to catch the young Quarian, who had become dizzy and fallen.

“Bosh’tet…really hurt….” She hissed, clutching her leg. Tali attempted to swat the geth holding her away, but her strength was failing her, it was becoming hard to breathe….

He cradled her gently, and his sensors indicated her erratic breathing and heart rate. Creator Tali’Zorah needs medical attention. Without hesitation, he scooped her up and ran out of the room to get to the med-bay.

If he didn’t move fast enough, she would die in his arms.

~*~

Chakwas simply shook her head. “Poor thing! Treason, really? You have to do something, Shepard, we both know that’s not true.”

Shepard nodded. “I know. I’m going to, immediately. But I came to talk to you to see how well equipped this medical bay is to treating a Quarian crewmate. If I need to upgrade anything, I want to do it ASAP, before we go on any mission that could put Tali in danger.”

Chakwas smiled, and turned to her computer to check on the bay’s inventory. Shepard might be a tough-as-nails commander, but no one can ever say she never cares for her crew.

“Well, looking at everything I have, I will say that this lab can handle a small emergency in a pinch. This lab can handle almost any injury sustained in combat.”

“Like Garrus,” Shepard said.

“Like Garrus. However, try not to get any other crew members blown up? Installing cybernetics in a healthy patient can be trying.”

“I’ll take that under medical advisement,” Shepard said, hiding the guilt she felt for Garrus’ accident. If I hadn’t hesitated to knock out that mechanic he might not have cybernetics holding together half his face….

Chakwas realized her poor attempt at a joke had started to make Shepard blame herself for what happened. “Commander, anything can happen in war. Despite your fancy implants, you are still a human, there’s only so much you can do. Garrus is fine, you are fine, and your crew and ship are fine. Stop beating yourself up.”

With a small grin growing across her face, Shepard nodded at the doctor. She pulled herself out of her funk and got back to the business at hand. “You’re right. So, does the lab need anything for Tali?”

“Like I was saying, this lab can handle most combat-sustained injuries. However, Quarian health can by a tricky bugger, so I’d appreciate a few upgrades, if you can afford them, Commander.”

“Where can I get the upgrades?”

“The Citadel. I know we are trying to lie low, but with a mission like this anything can happen, and I want to be ready.” Chakwas turned to look around the pristine lab. “This lab is stocked with the best, state of the art medical supplies and equipment I’ve seen in a long time. Perks of working in the private sector, I suppose,” she winked.

“It seems that the Illusive Man knew of your propensity for working with aliens, and built this ship accordingly. We can treat Tali for a cold, or drops a wrench on her foot, but a life-threatening emergency? Those upgrades will be necessary, to increase her chances.

“So, in your professional opinion…?”

Chakwas grinned. “In my professional opinion, go to the Citadel and get those upgrades before going and looking for trouble in this big, bad universe, Commander.”

Shepard grinned as well, and snapped off a sharp salute. “Aye, doctor!”

Just before Chakwas could respond, EDI’s blue orb body appeared on the console. “Dr. Chakwas. There is a medical emergency. Legion is bringing in Tali’Zorah for a severe allergic reaction. Her breathing is labored, erratic, and she is shaking, he reports.”

“What the—I was just down there! What the hell happened?” Shepard demanded.

“I do not have any specifics, Commander,” replied the A.I. “They are in the elevator. ETA 25 seconds.”

Chakwas moved with the speed of a woman half her age, gathering bottles of antibiotics and medi-gel for her incoming patient. Despite her speed, she moved with grace and calm confidence. She went to the comm closest to her. “Mordin? I need your help, Professor. I have a Quarian with allergic shock coming in!”

“ETA 34 seconds, Doctor,” said the Salarian before cutting the channel off.

“I thought you had xeno-medical experience?” Shepard asked, helping Chakwas hurry her supplies to the closest empty bed.

“Oh, I do. Working with you has forced me to learn what I can. Quarians are finicky, however. It sounds like Tali could enter anaphylactic shock at any moment, and it’s not like I can shove an epi-pen into her leg. The medicine to treat one allergic reaction could very easily creation a reaction of its own, and this usually results in death. I’d rather have someone here who’s slightly more knowledgeable in xeno-biology giving me a hand.”

The doors to the lab opened, and Legion quickly entered, clutching Tali to his chest. He laid her down on the bed and stepped back for Chakwas to examine her patient. Tali moaned, and coughed a gurgled cough. She muttered something in Quarian, but no one understood what she said.

Right behind him entered Mordin, tapping away on his omni-tool. “Have arrived. What happened?” he asked as he came to help Chakwas.

“C.O. attacked her. This unit believes it was not an offensive display,” explained Legion.

Chakwas looked down and saw her tattered suit and the deep scratches on her leg, which were now swelling and bleeding. “Jesus. A kitten did this?”

“Have sharp claws. Very effective against most types of epidermal layers,” said Mordin knowingly.

“Her suit’s ripped, we need a clean room. The longer she’s exposed the worse she gets,” Chakwas said. She looked at Shepard. “Know that life-threatening emergency I mentioned we couldn’t really treat? This would qualify as one.”

~*~

Shepard and Legion stood outside the med-bay, watching the two medical professionals working on the sick Quarian. They had sealed the room so nothing could make Tali’s condition worse.

“What the HELL happened?” Shepard finally snapped at the Geth. A normal person may have taken a small step back in surprise at her sudden outburst, but Legion simply turned his head to face her.

“This unit already explained C.O.--”

“I didn’t mean that. Why were you down there with Tali? I told you to stay away from her until I talked to her, didn’t I?”

Legion’s camera lens focused on the fury in Shepard’s face. He dipped his head slightly. “We did not disobey Shepard-Commander’s orders on purpose. We were put in charge of watching over C.O. He eluded us, and so we attempted to locate him. Creator Tali-Zorah was leaving the premises of the engineering deck and ran into us. Though hostile at first, a truce was eventually reached.”

Shepard couldn’t help herself. “You didn’t make the cat attack her on purpose, did you?”

Even though he had no real facial features to speak of, his metal flaps raised as high as possibly as her accusation. “We did no such thing. It was an accident.” Though monotone, it was easy to tell Legion was offended at the accusation.

She turned back to the window, watching Chakwas filling a syringe with purple liquid and hand it to Mordin, who injected it into an IV. “I’m sorry, Legion, that was uncalled for. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed heavily.

“That cat. That bloody, goddamn cat! It’s been nothing but trouble since I bought it aboard. If Tali doesn’t make it I’m killing him myself.”

“Shepard-Commander, do not engage in such action. Urdnot Grunt will be less than pleased.”

“I don’t care. If Tali dies….I’ll have lost a good friend to this screwed-up universe.”

“Please do not engage in such action. This unit will be less than pleased.”

Shepard looked at the geth, who was looking straight ahead into the window.

“I….argh, I like that little guy, I do, but he’s been nothing but a headache. Besides, why do you care about C.O.?”

The geth stood silent for a moment. “No data available.”

They watched through the window, the strong lights from the med-bay casting shadows into the dark mess hall, making them look like animated shadows.

“Creator Tali’Zorah is not going to die. She stated such. ‘Het-teshta no kimo-ano’ translates to ‘I will not die, I will survive this.’”

Before Shepard could speak further, Chakwas turned and gave a relieved thumbs-up.

~*~

My mouth is dry as Tuchanka…it hurts to breathe….and my leg feels like it’s made of putty. So, I must still be alive, thought Tali’Zorah as she woke up in the med-bay.
Opening her eyes, the first thing she discovered was Shepard sitting next to her bed, grinning at her. “Hey,” the Commander said softly. “You ok?”

“I feel like utter crap,” Tali said without ceremony. “But I’m alive, and that’s all that matters I suppose.”

“You tried your damnedest to not make it so. Really made Mordin and Chakwas work to save your life,” Shepard told her.

Tali gave a light laugh, but winched as pain shot through her leg. She looked down to see that, from the knee down, her lower leg was encased in a glass box, a controlled atmospheric unit to allow her leg to heal without infection from outside sources. It was very hard to move with her leg locked in place like that, but she was glad to see the bluish skin underneath was healing, and her suit was fixed. “I’ll try harder, next time.”

Shepard shook her head. “I suppose it makes sense, but who knew Quarians were deadly allergic to cat scratches?”

“Is that what that little….thing was? A cat?” Tali attempted to censor herself before her boss.

“His name’s C.O., and he’s been nothing but a fuzzy headache since coming aboard. Grunt adores him, though,” the commander explained. She stood in order to leave the bay so Tali could rest and heal, but as she did so Tali grabbed her hand and held it with a steel grip. Even hidden behind the mask Shepard could feel the quarian was shooting daggers at her.

“There was a fully functioning Geth on the Normandy and you didn’t tell me? Why!” Tali demanded.

Shepard didn’t speak for a moment, and was tempted to tell Tali to not question her judgment calls, but this wasn’t a personal grudge. The Geth and Quarians were still fighting a war, and there was a possibility either race might not live until the end of it.

As her crewmate and friend, Shepard had to say something.

“I was trying to avoid fighting,” Shepard said. “I wanted to tell you when you were settled in. I had just picked you up from a hairy situation involving the Geth--

“So you lied to me?” was the obvious question. “You didn’t think I could handle myself?”

“It’s not like that, Tali! Legion offered his assistance on my mission and I’m not exactly in a position to turn down any information or able bodies!” Shepard’s voice changed from calm to angry, but not necessarily at Tali’s reaction.

It seemed like at every turn something would try and shake Shepard’s strong foundation of will. If it wasn’t working for Cerberus, or the fact that she had died, or the fact that she had to recruit for an officially sanctioned Suicide Mission, it was other things like this. Things like Ashley spitting in her face.

“I don’t care where you get your information or how, Shepard. But you let me live on the Normandy and didn’t tell me there was a geth aboard as well? We are sworn enemies; the Geth killed so many of us and then took our homeworld from us!”

“And you tried to kill them!” Shepard snapped. “Both sides loose in war, Tali. Please, I can’t afford to lose either of you.”

Tali turned her head away, and spoke after a moment. “We’ve established a truce. Your mission won’t be put at jeopardy. As long as it stays away from me,” she added.

“Fair enough. Chakwas says another day and you should be fine to leave. In the meantime I’ll make a quick trip to the Citadel, then the Fleet.”

“Thanks, Shepard. I’ll be ready.”

~*~

“Well, Tali’Zorah, you’ve got a clean bill of health. Try to stay that way, alright?” said the elderly doctor as she released the seals of the atmospheric unit around Tali’s leg.

The quarian moved her stiff leg around and massaged it gingerly, trying to return some feeling into it. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, standing a little wobbly.

Chakwas grinned, and waved goodbye to the quarian once Tali was solidly back on her feet and feeling well. The doctor said something about going to thank Mordin for his assistance in Tali’s emergency, and left.

Tali was glad for the few moments of being alone. It was a nice reprieve from the doctor constantly hovering around her to make sure she didn’t relapse, and though a sweet gesture, it had been annoying for the past few days to deal with.

Walking around and testing putting her weight on her leg, Tali pulled up her omni-tool to check the repairs on her suit when she noticed it was acting slow, and unresponsive. Worried that one of the doctors had messed with it while she was unconscious, Tali attempted a routine diagnostic scan, and her entire tool flared from orange to blood-red! She was being hacked!

“Who the—you little bastard!” Anger fueled her speed as she tapped away on it quickly, and she was able to track the interfering virus as it attempted to copy files from her hard drive, then retreat before she could catch up. But Tali was a genius when it came to engineering feats, and she was able to locate the physical location of the virus’ deployment.

It had come from the A.I. Core, mere feet from where she had been lying.

Grabbing her pistol from the table where it lay, Tali stalked forward, having an idea of who she would find behind the door.

~*~

This is ridiculous. I’m going to have to assign body guards to them or something, or drop one off on the nearest asteroid. I should have known better than try and make those two work together. She just came out of an allergic coma and they’re still trying to kill each other! Apparently it’s impossible for a Geth and Quarian to get over themselves for a bigger problem!

All of these thoughts raced through Shepard’s head as she rode the slow-ass elevator down to the A.I. Core. Thank goodness Joker had been watching the cameras when he had been
—he had seen Tali grab her pistol and march angrily towards Legion’s quarters, and warned Shepard immediately.

She stomped through the med-bay and didn’t stop until coming to the A.I. Core doors.

Tali had a pistol pointed at Legion, about to shoot him point blank. Both turned towards the Commander.

“What the hell is going on now?” Shepard growled.

“Shepard! I’m glad you’re here. I caught Legion hacking my omni-tool and trying to copy classified files. It was going to send the information about the Fleet back to the Geth!”

Legion countered matter-of-factly. “That was not our initial intention. However, once it was learned that the Creators planned to attack the Geth, and were performing weapons’ tests on geth hardware, it was believed necessary to warn our people of possible Creator aggression.”

“I won’t let Legion endanger the Fleet!”

“Tali’Zorah acts out of loyalty to her people. However, we must protect ourselves from the Creator threat.”

Shepard was tired of the infighting, she understood both sides, but she needed them united. “You both need to stop fighting this war or we’ll all end up paying for it. The Reapers don’t care about your war, they’ll simply use it against you to make sure no one survives. I need both of you for this mission to be a success, and I won’t choose sides.”

The two looked back at each other, and after a moment Tali lowered her gun and clipped it back to her waist. “She’s right. Like usual.”

“Shepard-Commander has diplomatic abilities with a 93.4% success rate, rounded down,” Legion agreed.

Tali pulled up her omni-tool. “Look, what if I give you some non-classified files to send?”

“We would be grateful,” Legion said.

Shepard smiled to herself. Maybe they aren’t such lost causes afterwards. She left the two alone, confident Tali wouldn’t try to blow off Legion’s head.

~*~

“We appreciate the data,” Legion said after sending the last of the files.

Tali nodded, and realized how odd it was to be alone with the Geth and not actively trying to run away or kill it. Legion focused his eye on her, probably wondering why she hadn’t left yet.

Something it had said earlier was bugging her. “Why were you hacking my omni-tool in the first place? You said it wasn’t your ‘initial intention’ so why were you doing to it?”

“We were originally attempting to upgrade your suit’s filters and shields to recognize, intercept, and protect you from feline DNA,” Legion said.

“Feline? Is that…cat?” Tali asked for clarification.

“Yes. In order to prevent from future allergic reactions.”

Tali was taken aback by the seemingly kind gesture. “I…um…thank you…..Legion. That was….considerate.”

Legion nodded once, looked past her, and gently shoved her behind his body as he grabbed the gray kitten in question, who was walking along some pipes on the wall behind her.

“Mrow!” C.O. said loudly, making Tali jump. He wiggled in Legion’s hands, trying to jump onto Tali, who shrank back from the creature in automatic terror.

Legion held the kitten up so they were face to face, his large camera reflected by two large blue eyes. “Creator Tali-Zorah does not appreciate your attempts of bodily contact. Do not jump on her, for her personal shields will recognize this platform’s DNA and engage, possibly expelling you several feet away. Does C.O. understand?”

After a moment, C.O. mewed. To her amazement, Tali watched as Legion took the kitten and held it to its chest, and the kitten crawled into the hole in its chest and curled up to sleep.

However, the kitten had grown in the few months he had been aboard. Where once he was able to fit curled up inside, his tail and a back leg draped down the geth’s front like strange
colored innards.

“C.O. will not bother you anymore, Creator Tali’Zorah.”

“I’m….glad to hear that,” she said slowly, not exactly how to process what she had just seen. “Um, Tali. You can just call me Tali from now on.”

She held out her hand, like Shepard would do when welcoming a new party member.

Legion looked at her, slowly took her hand, and they shook. “Affirmative…Tali.”

Chapter Text

~*~
The three of them sat in their chairs like children who had been caught misbehaving and were now waiting for the principal to dish out their punishments. The had yet to meet the officer whom they were going to be defending themselves too, and Shepard was not looking forward to the imminent inquisition.

Grunt, who was seated on the other side of Garrus, turned towards Shepard, the little chair creaking under his massive weight. He whispered urgently “Shepard, we’ve got to get outta here and go find—“

She whipped around to snarl at him. “Not another word, Grunt. Not another word! I don’t want to hear about it!”

Grunt immediately became defensive. “But what if he—“

“He didn’t,” Garrus said, caught in the middle of death-glare match between krogan and commander, trying to stop Shepard from killing Grunt with his calming words. “I’m pretty sure I saw him climb out. He was soaked, but unharmed.”

“And now we’ve lost his trail. We had him!” said the krogan.

“Yeah, we had him until you started to throw punches!” Shepard hissed. “Fuck!” she snapped, slamming her hand on the desk they sat before.

“Hey!” said a voice. Grunt, Garrus, and Shepard turned to see a blonde-haired human walk into the office, data pad in hand. “Don’t make me add vandalism of law enforcement equipment to the list here, Shepard.”

“Officer Bailey,” Shepard said, surprised to see the officer again. He had been kind enough to help her and Thane find Kolyat and stop him from assassinating a turian politician.

From the look of tired annoyance gracing his features as he sat behind the desk before them, he probably wouldn’t be so nonchalant this time.

Bailey stared at them, his eyes wandering over Grunt’s bruised eye, Garrus’ scuffed armor, and Shepard’s beet red face that seemed to be trying to blend into her hair. He was unsure whether it was red from embarrassment or anger, and currently didn’t care which it was.

He pulled up his data pad and began reading. “At the moment, the charges are: Public displays of violence, initiating violent contact, disturbing the peace, vandalism, terrorist activity--”

“Terrorist? What the hell do you mean terrorist?” Shepard snapped.

Bailey looked up at the angry commander with a calm, collected glare. “You’re sporting Cerberus colors, Commander. From when we first met I didn’t really think you were the type to be so….radical. I would especially not expect such behavior from a former C-Sec officer himself.”

Garrus ducked his head instinctively. Former vigilante or not, bowing to a superior was second nature to a turian. He even seemed to mutter some sort of apology under his two-toned breathe, but whether this was too Shepard, Bailey, or his ancestral spirits no one really knew.

“I’m not! Why does everyone assume that I’m working for them because I have a choice in the matter? I don’t!” Her voice had raised a few octaves as her anger got the best of her.

Bailey put down his data pad and laced his fingers together. “So, what, you started a public brawl with a few passerby krogans just for kicks?”

“He attacked my krantt first!” Grunt cut of Shepard’s reply, pounding his chest for good measure. “It was purely defense,” he growled.

Bailey raised an eyebrow, and leaned back in his chair with arms akimbo, frowning. “Krantt? I wasn’t aware of any other krogan in that area at the time except for the two you attacked.
And I haven’t had to deal with any other mercenary krogan turf battles before today, either, so do you mind explaining to me what krantt you’re talking about?”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose; the pounding headache forming there was going to be a real bitch of a migraine later.

“Look, Shepard,” Bailey started, leaning towards them. “I’m pretty easy-going when it comes to personal problems, like your drell’s wannabe assassin son. As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone on the Citadel or cause any security risks, I’ll probably let it go. The less paperwork I have to fill out the better. But I’ve got higher-ups wanting me to make this incident go away, lest in turn into some sort of krogan gang war. Just tell me what the hell is going on!”

“Officer Bailey?” Garrus started, deciding to spare Shepard the initial embarrassment from describing what had led up to the knock-out, drag-out fight between Grunt and the two krogan males in the Presidium only moments ago. “Have you been watching the news today? Been keeping up with the story of the ‘strange creature’ running around?”

Bailey turned the turian, and shrugged. “The tabby cat? Saw a few clips here and there, thought it was a particularly slow news day. Feel bad for the two Asari it attacked, too. Actually heard through the grapevine that they have hired a volus lawyer to sue whoever owns the cat. Apparently asari lace is priceless, especially when it’s shredded.”

He has a damn fetish about that stuff! Shepard couldn’t help thinking.

“What does that have to with anything?” Bailey asked, looking between them.

The commander sighed steeled herself for the laughter she knew they were going to have thrown at them and sighed heavily. “His name’s C.O. And he’s Grunt’s…. ‘krantt member,’”
she said without inflection, pointing towards the krogan. It was obvious she wanted to do more than sink through the chair, floor, and out into the void of space.

Bailey, bless him, was able to keep his laughter to himself, but couldn’t stop his eyes from growing almost as large as dinner plates. “So, let me get this straight…the cat that’s been running around and causing trouble on the Citadel news is part of your crew?”

“I don’t know how he got off the Normandy,” Shepard admitted, giving Grunt a pointed glare as she spoke. “All I know is that we’ve been trying to find him all day.”

“What the hell has been going on on my Citadel, Commander?” the C-Sec officer asked.

~*~
The Normandy barely shuddered around them as she became connected into her docking bay at the gentle behest of her pilot.

“She’s docked, Commander,” Joker said smugly, turning his chair around to face his Commander. A grin spread across his face, one that was probably shared by many of the crew; the docking of the ship meant it was officially shore leave, one that had been awaited for for many weeks.

Shepard kept a straight face, even at her pilot’s contagious eagerness. “Make the announcement, Joker. Remember, this is just a rest stop, 24-hour shore leave. We go in and go out without any trouble or even any raised eyebrows, understand?”

Joker looked offended at her pointed remark. He started counting off on his fingers. “You not only have a Cerberus crew, but you also have a squad consisting of a tank-bred krogan super soldier, a convict biotic, a rebel turian officer, a drell assassin, and quarian and a geth, a cat, and I’m the one told to behave? What am I going to do, hobble too fast and get ticketed by C-Sec?”

“I think I can arrange that,” said the smooth voice of the ‘rebel turian officer.’ Garrus was walking up next to the Commander and winked. “Advantage of having friends on the force.”

Joker stuck his tongue out at the turian. “You’re still a stick-in-the-mud, you overgrown turkey, no matter how cool you act,” said the pilot.

Shepard held up her hands. “Boys, behave. I’m not going to let one more minute of this leave be taken up listening to you two bicker. Garrus, you’re coming with me. And you,” she pointed towards Joker, “try not to break anything important, that’s an order.”

“Aye, aye, Shepard!” he saluted. To Garrus’ retreating back he flipped the bird.

~*~

Grunt shuffled from one foot to the other, obviously a bit nervous as he stood in the docking bay between the ship and the actual deck of the Citadel, waiting for the scanner to allow the shore party through.

Shepard noticed the krogan’s nervousness and glanced at Garrus, who shrugged.

“Nervous, Grunt?” she asked. This is the first time he’s ever been on the Citadel, she realized.

Grunt looked at her with a steely gaze, and stopped his fidgeting. “I’m not nervous,” he objected.

Garrus noticed the young krogan’s slight discomfort, and so began giving him some tips for the trip. “The Citadel isn’t that tough to navigate. Don’t start trouble with any other turians or krogans unless they try it with you first. And if someone offers to sell you a cheap synthetic krogan quad that can ‘get the job done,’ tell them off gently.”

Shepard shot a glance at the turian. “They really do that?”

“I must have written out stacks of fucking paperwork involved with those,” the former C-Sec officer lamented.

“Jesus, no wonder you became a vigilante,” Shepard chuckled.

“Yeah, and that was some of the more interesting of my caseloads.”

“So, what exactly do we do on a shore leave?” interrupted Grunt.

“It’s a small break. Can’t keep people on a small ship for too long, they go stir-crazy and uncomfortable. So we,” she said, throwing an arm around both Garrus and Grunt’s waists with a grin, “are going for a few drinks. You’re a man now, and we are celebrating your Rite of Passage, Grunt. How does a bottle of ryncol sound?”

Grunt looked at his Battlemaster, a giant grin spreading across his face. “That sounds great, Shepard.”

~*~

“So you came up for drinks, supplies. I fail to see where the renegade cat comes into play,” Bailey said.

“Far as we can tell, he probably snuck off the ship to follow Grunt, but got lost,” explained Garrus. “While having a few drinks down in the Wards, we saw the news report, and the subsequent footage of the ‘gray-furred creature’attacking the asari diplomats.”

“Cerberus so desperate for cannon fodder they’re now training attack cats?” Bailey said without a hint of humor.

“It was probably the lace,” Shepard sighed, covering his eyes with a gloved hand unable to look at the officer’s facial expression to such an idiotic-sounding statement. She waved away the officer’s follow up question, already knowing where it was going. “Please don’t ask, Bailey.”

“Fine. So what happened after the asari attack?”

“We went to see if it was C.O., and if it was we were gonna take him back to the ship. Of course, he managed to get himself on the news…again.”

~*~

This time, the “strange gray-furred monster” from before was currently wondering in and out of shops trying to “illicit non-consensual touch from passerby.”

The footage showed the little cat trying to rub on people, many who were aliens and having never seen a cat usually ran in the other direction or jumped over him. He plopped down in the middle of the walkway and starting meowing pitifully.

Shepard could just imagine the cat yelling “Grunt! GRUUUUUUUNNNNNT!! Where are you! I’m lost, help!”

When the three of them arrived at the location of the most recent news report, C.O. was once again gone. However, as they started poking around in the shops in the area, they were able to find him before the reporters. As they scoured the area they found a Salarain standing outside of his aquarium shop and yelling obscenities at a fleeing gray figure. The cat looked quite content as he ran out, dragging a large and flopping eel behind him.

~*~

“You know, I have a report of that eel’s estimated value, Commander,” Bailey said, pulling up the report on his data pad. “The Salarian was determined that someone was going to pay for their pet’s ‘tastes’.” He showed the pad to the Commander, whose eyes grew large at the price before her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Who the hell would pay that much for a damn fish!”

“You will be, if the shop owner presses charges.”

“Don’t worry Shepard. We’ll just send the bill to the Illusive Man,” Garrus said with a grin.

~*~

Before either the shopkeeper or the ground crew could get to the cat, C.O. looked up from his prize to see his master, a large krogan, standing off by one of the many artificial lakes in the area. Apparently overcome with joy at finding his master, C.O. bounded over to the krogan in question, who was talking to another male, and starting climbing up the krogan’s leg, as he usually did with Grunt.

Before the cat realized what had happened, the krogan plucked the invader off of his body and threw him, hard, in a random direction, and after several hundred yards C.O. landed—right in the middle of the lake.

C.O. had not chosen the right Krogan. The unfortunate male, who had just been attacked by the strangest little creature, had only reacted instinctually. He turned to speak to his comrade about what tried to crawl up his leg, and instead meet with Grunt’s right hook smashing into his face.

It had taken almost a dozen C-Sec officers to pull the three fighting krogan apart. Garrus’ armor got scuffed as he helped pull Grunt out of the fight. It was a miracle no civilians or officers were hurt by the krogan.

~*~
Bailey was pacing behind the desk now, shaking his head at the story he had just heard.

“A damn cat….” The officer lamented. He gave a look to the three soldiers. “I’ve seen some things during my tenure here, but this has to take the cake. I’ve got supervisors looking to put the blame on someone for all this trouble, and I can’t exactly tell them the fugitive their looking for is four-pawed and fuzzy! Where’s the cat now?”

“I don’t know,” Shepard said. “Garrus said he saw him climb out of the lake, wet but alive. He could be anywhere now.”

“Well, we haven’t had any new reports, so wherever he went he’s lying low for a bit,” said the officer.

“I’m so sorry, Bailey,” Shepard apologized. “I wasn’t trying to cause you any trouble. This was an accident, that’s all. I’ll make sure to kill Grunt later so you don’t have to fill out the paperwork for a homicide too.”

Grunt looked at Shepard with a mixture of hurt feelings and betrayal, but Bailey did chuckle. “Thanks for the consideration.”

“So, what now?” Garrus asked.

Bailey ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Still trying to figure that out. Obviously, if we can find your cat and get you back to your ship, I want you to stay away from the Citadel for a while. Let everything cool down, especially the reporters.”

“We understand,” said the Commander. Even a temporary ban from the Citadel was annoying. The Normandy was going to have to find supplies elsewhere for a while.

“And your supervisors?” she asked. “What about them? And the damages?”

“Well, I’m the only one who knows that the cat is the link between the civilians, the krogan, and you. A cat running around on the Citadel is a novelty, and a stray can occur. I’ll give the order to let the other two krogan go. Can’t exactly keep them locked up for defending themselves. As for my supervisors, I’ll just make sure you aren’t tied to all this.”

This caught Shepard off-guard. “You’re clearing us?”

“Last I knew Commander Shepard didn’t have a cat on her ship. You were just trying to stop a stray and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Krogan mercenaries can be moody, especially if their “job negotiations” aren’t going very smoothly. Your krogan looked like he could handle himself, so they decided to see that for themselves. Case closed.”

“But, why?” Garrus had to ask.

Bailey smiled at them. “Because you gave me a great story to tell my yet-to-exist grandkids! Do I really have to give you a reason?”

“Thank you so much, Bailey!” Shepard exclaimed, feeling a weight fall off her shoulders.

Grunt, however, was not so jubilant. “What about C.O.? He’s still missing!”

“Damn, forgot about that,” Garrus grumbled.

“I’ll round up some volunteers to start a search grid,” the C-Sec officer said. He suddenly held up a finger as a call came over his headset. “What’s going on? Uh-huh. Right. Oh, really? Well, keep him calm, I’ll be right out.”

Bailey looked at the three with a small smile. “Think I just found your missing Tabby.”

~*~

The visiting elcor diplomat was pretty calm throughout the whole incident. He had been standing on the other side of the lake when the brawl between the krogan had broken out, and noticed something sopping wet climb its way up one of his tree-trunk like legs and perch on his back.

The elcor, unfortunately, couldn’t find anyone tall enough to see what had decided to use him for a sleeping couch, and after exhaustingly begging every passerby for assistance with no help dislodging the hitchhiker, he had slowly made his way to the closest C-Sec office.

“Exceptional panic. Will someone please remove whatever is on my back?” the elcor begged. “Increasing fear. I cannot remove the hitchhiker on my own. Please help?”

The officers in the room were mostly human with a couple turians, and they couldn’t see what the elcor was talking about. Bailey arrived from one of the offices, being trailed by Grunt, Garrus, and Shepard.

The elcor turned his large, almost doe-like eyes to the three new strangers. “Sudden realization. You are Commander Shepard, who saved the Citadel. The elcor appreciate your dedication to preservation of the Universe.” He turned his head toward Grunt. “And you are the krogan who started the fight with the others.”

Grunt looked at Bailey, who shrugged. “There were extenuating circumstances, sir.”

“C.O.! Front and center if you’re up there!” Grunt barked suddenly, making everyone jump, including the cat that had been sleeping atop the slow-moving alien. Quick as lightning, he bounded to the elcor’s shoulder and jumped right onto Grunt’s with perfect grace. The cat was mostly dry now, and started meowing and rubbing on the krogan’s neck and face, obviously ecstatic to be back with his master.

“How cute, reunited at last,” said Bailey with a note of sarcasm. “Now will you please get off my Citadel so I can do some damage control? And next time, Commander, leave the pets at home.”

~*~

She turned the small box over in her hands repeatedly as the elevator continued its slow crawl into the bowels of the ship. It was a small box, one that had held engine parts at one time, but now held something else entirely.

Shepard was still incredibly angry about the recent Citadel fiasco, and hardened space soldier though she was, she still blushed an angry red whenever someone brought up the recent episode. However, the barest hint of a smile graced her lips as the event replayed in her mind. Joker was right, as he had a bad habit of being: when it wasn’t you, it was bloody hilarious.

I’m setting a terrible example, she reprimanded herself. He’s been grounded, yet here I am with a present in tow. Well, it’s more of a preventative measure, really.

Grunt had been remanded to his quarters for the past several days for the Citadel incident. It was really less to do with Grunt as it had to do with Shepard cooling her heels for a bit as to not eject a certain feline companion on the next moon they passed. She was also hoping that something else more interesting was holding the news reporters over so that this story could die down. In time, the public would forget the spectacle and move on with their lives.

Except for Bailey. He’d never forget this.

Nor that shopkeeper.

Or those krogan.

Or the unfortunate Elcor diplomat.

Those two are going to be the death of me long before we ever catch up with the damn Collectors!

The elevator finally stopped its slow decent, and Shepard strode purposefully towards Grunt’s quarters in the cargo hold. She tucked the small box into her belt at her back so Grunt wouldn’t see it, and came to the door.

“EDI, is he and C.O. still inside?”

“Affirmative, Shepard.”

“Open the door,” the soldier commanded, and the locks opened before she had even finished the sentence.

Grunt was sitting at the desk, and appeared to be dismantling one of the standard-issue assault rifles from the armory. C.O. sat on the edge of the desk, grooming his gray tabby fur.
Several pieces were scattered on the desk, and she watched with interest as he seemed to be trying to figure out how it all worked together.

This caught Shepard by surprise. I never thought Grunt was mechanically inclined. He always seemed like the kind to—

With a roar of frustration, Grunt tossed the rifle hard at the opposite wall.

C.O. didn’t even flinch in his grooming. Apparently he was used to such outbursts.

Despite her grumpy mood, she almost laughed. –to do something like that.

The cat looked up from his grooming and meowed loudly to greet her. Grunt turned and saw Shepard at the door, and stood to face her. “Shepard,” he said in simple greeting. He could tell by her attitude she was still mad, and was not looking forward to the verbal wallop he was about to receive.

She gestured at his right eye, the skin around it showing the barest hint of a bruise. “That krogan really clocked you, didn’t he?”

Grunt cracked his neck, a typical sign of intimidation, but quickly turned his head so she could only see his unhurt eye. “No big deal.”

Not the most elegant segway, but she took what she could get. “No, Grunt, it was a big deal. A great, big, embarrassing deal!” Shepard wasn’t yelling, but she was talking quickly, and sternly. She was getting ramped up, and hers was the kind of angry that was quick but furious, similar to lightning strikes.

“It was supposed to be a quick op, get in and get out. We’re supposed to be flying under the radar,” she was pacing now. “Get some parts, complete some errands, have a few drinks. Instead, we end up chasing a stupid cat all over the Citadel!”

C.O. looked up from his grooming to glare at Shepard in a typical teenager’s fashion. He knew when he was being talked about, and he knew she wasn’t showering him with praises.

“It was an accident. He got out. He’s crafty and sly. Just like an infiltrator is supposed to be,” said Grunt.

Shepard gave him a look. “Are you actually trying to take credit for this?” she said incredulously.

“If I am? It was another successful training exercise. Imagine the chaos and distractions we could create with the enemy if we have him better trained, to go anywhere and do anything we need.”

The utter seriousness of Grunt’s statement was the only thing stopping Shepard from laughing at him. She did, however, sigh heavily. “I was hoping he would keep you out of trouble, not make more for the crew,” she said. “Listen, Grunt, if you can’t keep him in check I will have no choice but to get rid of C.O.”

The silence filled the room with a sense of dread and tension so thick she probably could have cut it with a knife. Grunt didn’t look shocked at the blatant threat—it was a challenge.

He nodded once. “Won’t happen again, Shepard.”

Shepard nodded. It felt like she had just kicked a puppy, but she had to remind him that he was a soldier under her command. This was a suicide mission, after all. One mistake could kill them all. She could not jeopardize the mission because of a cat.

Reaching behind her back, she pulled out the box. “Here’s something to help you with that,” she said, giving it to the krogan. He looked at her suspiciously, but took the tiny package. It was almost too small for him to open, but a quick rip and the paper was shredded. He opened it and pulled out a small length of a cord, on which dangled a metal piece. “What is this?”

Shepard took the piece from Grunt to show him how it worked. “It’s a dog tag, made with the same specs as standard Alliance issue. Back in Earth’s history, soldiers wore these to help identify their bodies if they were too damaged to do so visually. Of course, now we have genetic fingerprinting, but we like to keep some traditions alive. It has the wearer’s name, blood type, and squad.”

It was a little rectangle of metal, with the corners rounded. She flipped it over to show the back had a red horizontal stripe on the top and bottom, with a white one in the middle.

“Legion offered a piece of his—well, my—old armor for the tag. He and Jack worked together to make it the right shape.”

She turned it over, and Grunt could see letters engraved in the duller gray metal. It read:

C.O. VAS NORMANDY SR-2
KRANTT OF URDNOT GRUNT
SQUAD OF COMMANDER J. SHEPARD

“Tali engraved it, obviously from the ‘vas Normandy’ thing. And Garrus programmed a special little tracker unit inside the tag so we can always find C.O. if he gets lost again.” She grinned a little. “No more news reports. Oh, at the tag is made of a special Kevlar material. No way he’ll be able to slip the collar, or have it torn off.”

“I, uh, thank you, Shepard,” said the krogan. He wasn’t sure what to say. The fact that so many of the squad had helped with the tag was pretty impressive, though.

“Come here, little kitty,” said the Commander. C.O., sensing a good ear-scratch was in order, padded over to her with no hesitation. She locked the collar in place one-handed and scratched his back with the other, him purring the whole time.

She stepped back, and the two of them inspected the new piece. C.O. mewed and scratched at it a bit, shook his head a few times to get it off, realized he couldn’t shake it and simply accepted it. He went back to grooming, the tag swaying gently from his neck.

If he wasn’t an official member of the Normandy yet, he most definitely was now.

Chapter Text

~*~
It was the calm before the storm. Time seemed to slow as she peered through the scope, lining up her target in the crosshairs. Her finger tightened around the trigger, but she held back just a hair’s worth of strength as to not fire.

Ba-bump. Before her heart could beat again, she pulled the trigger, the same time as her two squad mates, three perfect shots in unison.

The silent staccato seemed to fill the air, and three mercenaries near the back of the Blood Pack group fell silently. Before the dust had even settled from the weapons, Shepard bounded several steps forward, gaining ground on the group one level below, and reestablished her rifle to fixate on a new target.

Below the assassins, the ragtag group of alien mercenaries continued moving with no idea of the snipers tracking them, or of the trap they were walking straight into.

If all went perfect, none of them would be walking out, either.

While the mission had come from Aria T’Loak, the trap had been Garrus’ idea. Hound the Blood Pack into playing a game of cat-and-mouse with himself, Shepard, and Legion at one of their more prolific warehouses on Omega. The room had several stories of catwalks intersecting over the open space below, a sniper’s dream.

It was supposed to be a quick job with decent pay, and any job that allowed Garrus to kill Omega mercenaries got his enthusiastic vote.

Shepard and Legion continuously moved around, setting up quickly to take a shot, and move to another spot within seconds. They would continue to pick of the outliers of the group until none remained, trying to pick off the krogans or any mercs with heavy weapons first, then moving onto the smaller threats later.

Any who tried to escape the bottlenecked room (which had only one way in and out) would be sniped by Garrus. He had the experience and patience to wait out the mercenaries. He was standing behind a large crate, using the scope on his M-92 Mantis to watch over Shepard and Legion, at the same time keeping an eye on the mercenaries as they continued to sweep the room below him.

It was almost supernatural how Shepard could set up, snipe with perfect accuracy, and race to another location all within a mere moment. One had to wonder if this was simply years of combat training, or if Cerberus’ cybernetics had an effect of her efficiency. Garrus was inclined to think it was a mixture of the two, but during the mission to stop Saren, Shepard had managed to pull of several of the same maneuvers. Being a soldier class meant she was trained to be able to pick up any weapon and shoot it with maximum accuracy, a trait that had saved their lives many times in the past.

Legion, too, was able to pull off this shoot-and-move maneuver with grace and efficiency one would expect with a machine. He was fast and agile, and never hesitated. Every shot he took was perfect--inflicting the maximum amount of damage with the smallest amount of energy expended.

So far, the plan was going smoothly. Out of the almost 40 that had entered the room, fanning out but not really seemingly checking the upstairs, they were now minus seven members.

“One less to worry about,” Garrus noted with pride as another human fell to one of his bullets. Eight less, now.

He heard a grunt over his comm as Shepard high-tailed it to another spot. “Are we really going to turn this into a competition, Garrus?” she asked.

“Why not? Make things a little more interesting,” said the turian.

“Don’t jinx us,” said the commander. “A cut-and-dry mission would be a welcome one. Just keep your eyes open up there.”

“Got it.” He turned to watch Legion, who was several yards away, across several catwalks, line up a shot. Garrus swore as he saw a flash of red move on the catwalk behind the Geth.

Through his scope, the turian saw a human mercenary lying on his stomach in a densely shadowed area, lining up a shot at the geth.

Swinging his gun around, Garrus put a shot right through the eye hole in the man’s helmet, but not before the man popped off a quick shot at the synthetic being. Legion jerked as the bullet hit him, but Garrus couldn’t see if it was damaged. By the time Legion whipped around to encounter the new threat, the man was already slumped on the metal grated catwalk, dead. Luckily, no one below heard the exchange, but the turian was now on high alert.

“Legion, did he hit anything vital?” Garrus called over the comm. The geth turned his flashlight head towards Garrus’ hiding spot and shook it. “Negative. No damage detected.”

“Good. Shepard, you there? Just had a merc take a shot at Legion on the catwalk. Keep your eyes open for more on your end.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Shepard said before cutting her radio down, to minimize anyone hearing her if there was anyone in her area. Cerberus had taken the time to give her eye implants, allowing her better vision in lower light. Amid the shadows of the metal bridges crossing to and fro, she saw no one lurking, and quickly made her way to another sweet spot.

Standing up suddenly, Legion pulled out his gun and lined to snipe a turian just below him. Strangely, the turian he was aiming at fell with a bullet in his less-heavily armored kneecap. Garrus finished off the squirming turian with a single shot.

“I can’t tell whether I’m supposed to be impressed or worried by that shot,” Garrus commented.

“We were aiming for the turian’s temple.”

“Shit. Okay, so I’ll be worried. Legion, is something wrong--?”

Garrus watched the geth line up another shot. His gut wrenched, however, when he saw a strange spasm seemed to ripple through Legion’s body, like a chill had raced up its spine, just as he pulled the trigger, and the shot went wild. “Shit!” said Garrus in horror, realizing the plan had just went to hell.

Instead of taking out a krogan, the bullet ricocheted off of a metal box just past the krogan’s head. The exceptionally loud echo ruined the plan as the Blood Pack members realized they were under attack and started either shooting at Legion, or running for cover.

“Shit! Shepard, we’ve got problems,” Garrus said as the mercenaries started shooting wildly everywhere. Upon seeing the fallen bodies of their comrades just yards behind them, they started firing more frantically, the echoes of their curses and swears almost drowning out the hailstorm of bullets. Garrus was able to take out three with head shots before hunkering down behind a short wall to reload, his gun’s barrel glowing red from the heat.

“Sit-rep, now!” Shepard snapped over the comm. She, too, was hunkering behind a bunch of boxes, taking quick shots at the mercenaries whenever there was a lull in the gunfire.

The majority of the mercs where hunkering behind boxes and pallets below them, making themselves exceptionally hard to hit with sniper fire; at the same time, they were filling the air
with bullets, keeping the three snipers from attacking back. It would only be a matter of moments before they sent a group to swarm the catwalks.

“I think Legion glitched,” Garrus huffed, flinching as a few stray shots came uncomfortably close to his head. “Took a shot and missed. Now they know we’re up here.”

“What the fuck do you mean he glitched?” she snarled. “Legion, report!”

“It seems there was an internal-nal-nal error, Shepard Commander,” stuttered the Geth. Maybe he was just projecting, but Garrus thought the Geth sounded a bit worried itself. The synthetic was hulking behind a short wall, not moving.

Even with the angry mercenaries shouting and shooting, there was an eerie calm over the comm after the Geth’s stutter. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked.

“We do not-not-not know, Shep-shepard Commander. Our basic scans show something is interfering with our basic motor functions and linguistic centers. We are devoting 47% of our programs to run a diagnostic scan.”

There was a lull in the rain of bullets from the Blood Pack members as they tried to figure out why the snipers had not moved or shot back yet. They started to spread out, trying to find out ways to get onto the catwalks above them in order to hunt down the snipers and finish them off.

“Legion! Stay low and get over to Garrus. Garrus! Keep low and try to fix Legion now. We’ve got to finish this mission before these mercs turn the tables.” Shepard barked her orders with quick precision. Having switched to her assault rifle, she jumped up from behind her cover and lay down a blanket of suppressing fire, giving the geth a chance to work his way towards Garrus along the catwalks. Caught by surprise, some of the mercenaries were unable to get out of the way of her bullets, and died quickly. The others quickly ran for more cover, forcing her back into cover by their own hail of death.

Several of the mercenaries saw Legion despite his crouched positioning and were able to pin him behind a low box, their continuous barrage of bullets keeping him stuck systems online until Garrus arrived only seconds later.

“I have to say, you must have the worst timing when it comes to personal malfunctions, Legion,” Garrus huffed. “Are you being hacked?” the turian asked, pulling up his omni-tool to try and figure out what was malfunctioning in the Geth. Meanwhile, the sounds of gunfire continued, Shepard being on her own for a few precious moments.

“No data available. Something is-is-is interfering with our functioning circuitry. We cannot make a proper diagnosis of the current problem.”

Garrus looked at the Geth, not even sure where to start looking for the problem. “Shepard! Really wish Tali were here. I’m working blind here. I work with computers, not Geth!”

“Well, we don’t have Tali, we have you!” the commander barked, a burst of assault rifle fire could be heard in the background. He took a quick peek to see half the mercenaries where lying dead in multicolored pools of blood below them, but the other half was determined to take out this lone soldier attacking them. He noticed a few soldiers sneaking off, probably trying to sneak up onto the catwalk behind her.

Grabbing his pistol, he was able to take out the few loners, giving Shepard a few less mercs to worry about. However, she saw how close they were to sneaking up on her. If they had figured a way up, more would be on the way.

“There’s too many of them for just one or two of us to deal with! Can Legion move? Shoot? If so give him a gun and let’s finish this before these bastards take us out!”

“Yes, Shepard!” he answered. Turning back to Legion, he said quickly. “I don’t have the tools to patch you up out here, so you’re just going to have to work through this glitch. Use your assault rifle—even if you can’t hit krogan’s ass at point blank range, maybe you can at least scare them into backing off Shepard.”

“Command acknowledged. We will continue to provide cov-cover for Shepard-Commander.” Though he had stuttered, Legion still pulled out his assault rifle and fired a quick spray into the majority of the crowd below. Very few of the bullets actually hit any of the armored Blood Pack members, but it had the effect of drawing their collective attention towards Legion.

Taking the opportunity presented, the Geth ran down the catwalk as quickly as possible away from Shepard and Garrus, making himself a target for the angry mercenaries below.

“Legion! Don’t do anything stupid!” Shepard’s angry voice called over the group’s comm. “You’re no good to me dead!”

“We cannot die, Shepard-shep-Pard Commander,” Legion explained. He reached over and sprayed the bullets from his assault rifle onto the group below, but Garrus saw several of the bullets come close to hitting Shepard. She was forced to duck as Legion ran past her from across the higher walkway.

“No, but you can kill us!” Shepard said irritated.

“Looks like friendly fire is going to be our biggest problem, not the Blood Pack!” Garrus observed.

“Thank you for the obvious, Garrus,” she growled. “Legion! Are you even aiming?”

“Accuracy rating has dropped 89%, Sh-shepard-Com-om-mander. Linguistic centers are-are-starting to show detrimental failure. Primary and secondary motor controls are also starting to fail.”

There was a brief pause, and Garrus turned his gun from Shepard to see Legion collapse through his scope.

“Legion!” Garrus said. “What’s going on?!”

There was a pause. “We have reached-ed-ed consensus. We are engaging in stand-by procedures.”

Garrus jerked his head in surprise. “Wait! But--!”

“This mobile platform has lost 75% of its functioning facilities within 4.3 minutes, with no data available to determine cause. We will not be used against you or Shepard-epard Commander by enemy agents. Creator Tali should have the equipment necessary to repair us aboard the Normandy. It is the safest option for all involved.”

Garrus squeezed off another round, taking out another armored turian who was crouching around a box. “See you on the other side, then.”

Before Legion could ask Garrus to explain the meaning of this new phrase, his camera blinked off, and he lay still.

“Garrus! Report!” said Shepard, sounding a bit haggard.

“Legion’s shut down,” said the turian. “Couldn’t walk and was starting to lose the ability to speak properly. Hopefully Tali and fix him up after this mess.”

“Goddammit! Nothing can be easy, can it?”

The turian felt guilty for not being able to patch up the geth, but he pushed back his feelings of inadequacy and grabbed his Mantis from his back. He found a spot to snipe from, and after looking for a second found Shepard trapped behind a crate, cornered by the twenty or so mercenaries shooting at her.

“Spirits. I turn my back for thirty seconds and this is the mess you get yourself into,” the turian moaned.

“Shut the hell up and help me out here, Garrus.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not the type to pass up a perfect opportunity to play hero in shining, gunship-blasted armor.”

“You’re an ass. Now clear me some room. Time to embrace my inner krogan. Just keep your eyes open up there for me, Archangel.”

Garrus sighed. “Please, don’t die,” he whispered into the comm, partially hoping the sounds of gunfire would drown out his moment of weakness.

“I won’t. I love you, Garrus,” Shepard said in a lull between weapons fire.

Garrus almost froze when she spoke those words, unsure what to say or do. So he deflected with sarcasm.

“I thought you humans only said that when it was pouring rain and soft orchestral music was playing in the background? Weapons fire is not the most romantic backdrop, Shepard.
But…I love you, too.”

Through the scope, he could clearly see her tuck away her ammo-less assault rifle, only to pull out a gun that could only be described as ugly in design, almost too big for her to wield normally, but her new cybernetics allowed her to wield the krogan-designed Scimitar shotgun.

Shepard loved this gun more than any other in her arsenal. Instead of the usual buckshot, this gun fired bullets filled with metal shrapnel. It killed most targets instantly, if it didn’t blow you across the room. The carnage it could create with a single shot appealed to some part of deep, dark part of Shepard’s soul.

Normally she was a diplomat of peace, trying to work with everyone to keep from having to use violence to complete her job. But, piss her off too much and one got the Scimitar in their face. The Commander was never one to do things half-assed.

Replacing his sniper with his trusted assault rifle, Garrus began shooting at any exposed mercenaries wildly. He was trying to get their attention so Shepard could get to the ground level. With bellowing hollers and orders yelled, the bulk of the mercenary horde turned their attention to Garrus.

He looked to see Shepard drop down from the lowest catwalk onto a stack on boxes and climb down behind the group. Dodging between thick stone metal pillars, she ran up behind a krogan and jammed the gun right into the base of his back and pulled the trigger.

The krogan was blown in half by the force of the gun, and Shepard staggered several feet backwards. She ducked behind another pillar until her hearing and vision recovered from the small explosion.

An earsplitting KA-BANG! filled the air. Screams of pain and fear followed after as Shepard ran blazing into the thick of the mercenaries, decapitating and amputating men and aliens as she went.

Garrus took care of anyone in her blind spots, and also finished off those who didn’t die instantly from her weapon. Within moments, there were no live souls left, except for Shepard and Garrus.

Standing up from his crouched position, Garrus hailed the ship as Shepard made her way up a nearby ladder to his and Legions’ location. “Normandy, this is Garrus, you there?”

“Copy. Joker here. Having fun fishing down there?”

“Lots. Listen, we should be heading back towards the ship within 20 minutes. We’ve had a situation down here, so have Tali meet us in the hanger when we arrive.”

“No problem, Joker out.”

Garrus switched comm channels. “Shepard, you still alive?”

“Yes. But have I mentioned I freakin’ hate mercenaries? Dammit, I think a few got me in the back. That’s gonna leave a bruise in the morning….”

Garrus coughed to interrupt her spewing of swears at the dead mercenaries. “Legion’s shut down. We need to get going and figure out what’s wrong.”

“I’ll be right there in few. And if someone’s involved who I think is involved, he is DEAD.”

It took a moment for the turian to understand who she meant.

“Ah, right. Because Grunt has mastered, through painstaking patience and practice, the art of advanced hacking and sabotage and passed these traits along to his furry protégé.”

“……you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Me, Shepard? Never. Just think you’re a little paranoid. Not everything that goes wrong is C.O.’s fault.

She scoffed. “We’ll see about that. Everything that has gone wrong recently is connected to him somehow.”

Garrus chuckled. “If Grunt has taught C.O. to shoot a sniper rifle and dress in Blood Pack armor, he’s done better than any of us ever anticipated. Even Miranda would be impressed.”

~*~

When Garrus entered the A.I. Core and pushing the levitating supply cart with Legion’s limp body, Tali was already waiting for them.

“Garrus! What happened?” she asked, firing questions at him wildly. “Shepard just said something was wrong with Legion. Is she ok? Are you? Was the mission a success?”

“Shepard’s fine. Mission was a success though not the smoothest we’ve ever had.” Reaching the bulkhead, he pushed Legion’s form onto the bulkhead, grunting and muttering as he
did. “Spirits, he’s a heavy bastard…”

After struggling a few moments, Legion finally came to rest on his back on the makeshift table.

“What about you?” Tali said worriedly. “Are you ok?”

“Uh? Oh, yeah, I’m ok,” the turian said in a distracted tone. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked the geth.

“EDI, activate a firewall and static barrier,” Tali instructed. A field of blue appeared behind the two aliens.

“Firewalls in place in case of virus or hacking attempts as per your instructions. Shall I reboot Legion’s mainframe?”

“No, not yet. I’m going to do a physical evaluation first. Just keep the barriers up, please.”

“Of course.”

She couldn’t help but find the recent turn of events a little funny. A few weeks ago, she tried to stab Legion with a knife, and it ended up helping her. Now here she was, waiting to help it.

Still, what am I? A Geth doctor? Just because I dismantled a few for my father doesn’t mean I know how they work or how to fix one! Shepard, why do you always assume that?!

“So, what exactly happened?” the quarian inquired, turning towards Garrus.

“Everything was going according to the plan when-no surprise-it went to hell. A sniper took a shot at him, but he said it didn’t hit anything vital and so we kept working. Within a few moments, he couldn’t aim worth a damn, starting stuttering, couldn’t walk, and eventually made himself go into stand-by.”

“Wow,” Tali said in a hushed tone. “That’s like knocking yourself out until you can get to a hospital….It must have been very serious.”

“Shepard almost became collateral damage when he tried to take out some of the mercs.”

Tali shook her head. “I’ve never seen a geth react like that to damage, even a gun shot.” She motioned to Legion’s still form. “Most of its chest is missing and it’s never slowed it down! Did you see where it was shot?”

Garrus shook his head. “Sniper was about 5 meters from Legion’s left, but the angle was too extreme; I couldn’t see where he got hit.”

Tali leaned over to take a quick look at the motionless geth. “I don’t see any damage…shields must have deflected the bullet. But to start malfunctioning so quickly afterwards. Hmm. I’m going to take a look inside.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the turian asked. He seemed unwilling to leave the Geth alone.

“Um….yeah. Hand me that…metal retractor,” Tali asked in a distracted tone. With her hands on her hips, she tilted her head to the side as she looked at Legion, trying to decide where to start working.

Garrus handed her the tool in question from the duffel bag on the floor containing her engineering equipment. It looked like a long screwdriver, but it had a powerful electronic magnet on the end instead of a drill bit.

She quickly peeled back a metal plate on Legion’s chest and took a look inside. Using her omni-tool as a guide, as she began inspecting the myriad of wires and protected microchips implanted there for damage.

Garrus was still standing off to the side, watching her every move, trying to commit everything she did to memory in case something like this happened in the field again. He still felt exceptionally guilty for not being able to figure out Legion’s glitch, and Shepard had almost lost her life in the process. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice! He vowed.

Tali, however, found the hovering turian a major distraction. “No offense, Garrus, but don’t you have something to go calibrate?”

He cocked his head slightly at her and grinned, not exactly catching the subtle “GTFO” hint. “Not anymore. I was finally able to get that damn cannon perfectly aligned!”

The quarian’s interest was piqued. “I heard about how much trouble that cannon was giving you! What did you have to do? Replace a broken hydraulic? Were you given a bad part?”

Garrus shrugged. “Oh, nothing like that. Just had to weld the ventilation covers in place.”

Tali paused in her examination, and turned back to stare at Garrus. She was almost certain he was playing with her. “Riiiigght. Why didn’t you just, you know, weld steel plates over the vents just to be certain?”

Her sarcasm was lost on him. “You know, I honestly considered that, but then I realized that the heat from the Main Battery would have cooked me alive in my armor. Now, I know I sometimes get human expressions wrong or take them too literally, but I’m pretty sure when Shepard calls me ‘hot’ she doesn’t want to see me barbequed alive.”

“I was kidding, Garrus. What does the vent covers have to do with calibrations?!”

“Oh. Right. Well….it seems that a certain furry creature belonging to a certain krogan aboard was getting into the Battery at night….” Garrus said, a hand over his eyes, mimicking
Shepard’s “facepalm” expression. He wasn’t even aware of doing it.

“That little creature is a menace!” Tali hissed.

“You’re biased. It’s not his fault you have allergy issues.”

“The little bosh’tet tried to KILL me!”

“He was raised by a krogan.”

“That’s no excuse! Grunt didn’t try to kill me the first time we met!”

Garrus chuckled. “True. But he did try to kill Shepard during their first meeting.”

That threw Tali for a loop. “…..Shepard must be desperate to allow such ill-manners.”

Garrus motioned to Legion’s body, which had lain forgotten for the past few moments. “Obviously.”

“You’re a distraction,” Tali admonished before turning back to the job at hand.

“Which part of me? My handsome looks or my charming personality?”

“Neither. You’re too mush a moody bastard to be charming or handsome.”

Stroking his scarred face, Garrus chuckled. “It’s the scars, isn’t it? I knew krogan females had a thing for them, but quarians too? Am I going to have to wear a helmet from now on so you can stop throwing yourself at me, Tali?” he teased.

“Don’t over flatter yourself. You’re not my type, Garrus,” Tali scoffed. The teasing was fun, but she was trying to work!

“So, I’m not your type. What about that marine, what’s his name…Kal’Reegar?”

Tali jerked like she had been smacked, but this was simply a surprised expression. Because their helmets concealed their faces, Quarians had learned to convey their emotions through exaggerated body language and vocal tone. Somewhat similar to how Elcors explained their tone and emotions when they spoke.

“Why would you ask that? I have no interest in ’Reegar, nor he in me!” she said, but her wringing hands revealed a different idea.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking a man in uniform,” he said seriously, but the small grin on his face ruined the somber tone.

“I don’t like him! He was simply doing his job! You risked your life for Shepard years ago during the Saren thing, and that didn’t mean you liked her!”

Garrus’s expression changed to a somber tone for a moment. “True. But you can always tell when a man does a job because he has to, versus one who does his job because he wants to.”

Tali started to shove Garrus towards the door leading out of the A.I. Core. “Get out! I will never get anything done with you here!” she said in an exasperated tone. “I will get my shotgun!”

“Easy, Tali. No need to resort to violence,” Garrus said, taking a few steps towards the door. “If you need any help, just give me a call on the comm. And let me know when you figure out what’s wrong with with him, alright?”

“Goodbye, Garrus,” Tali said, as the door closed on him. She rolled her eyes. “If that’s what it is like to have siblings, thank the stars Quarians can only have one child….”

Turning back to Legion, she apologized. “Sorry about that. Now then, let’s try this again.”

Peering into the new hole in Legion’s chest, her deft fingers followed the thick cables and tiny wires into different areas. It was like feeling along a person’s arteries and veins for a blood clot. She didn’t want to pull a wire out by accident and shut Legion down forever, “killing” it, but she was also unsure where to start looking.

After an hour of examining everything she could think of, Tali carefully pulled open an exceptionally tiny panel near the large gaping hole in Legion’s chest. Everything up until then had been a dead end, and Tali suspected the glitch had been the result of an attempted hacking attempt.

However, when she opened the small panel to reveal an even tinier microchip, she gasped. “No. No way…” she breathed, and with a pair of tweezers pulled out a single strand of fur, its end singed from contact with the circuits.

~*~

Mainframe manual reboot. All systems online. All programs unzipped. Diagnostic scans running. Scans complete. Malfunction has been repaired. Affected programs also repaired. Current mobile platform returned to 98.90000% optimum working conditions.

Legion’s light brightened as he “woke up,” and he found Tali to been standing over him as he lay on the bulkhead in the A.I. Core.

“We have been repaired to within 1.1% perfect operating condition,” the Geth announced. “Systems malfunction has been repaired. Creator Tali, you have repaired us?”

Tali nodded. “Yeah. Even replaced a few parts that were about to give out.”

Legion looked down at his platform, then turned back to her. “We are grateful of the Creator’s repairs to this platform. We request information on the reason for our malfunction.”

Tali handed him a small plastic zip-lock bag with several strands of cat-hair. “These were lodged in your circuits. When you got shot, you’re static field emitter was dislodged, throwing the collected debris around. Normally not a big deal, since all Geth I’ve examined had 2 such generators. However…” she motioned to the hole in Legion’s chest and sighed. “You’re down to one, so can I make a suggestion, next time?”

“We are willing to accept any observations from Creator Tali.”

“Don’t snuggle with that fuzzy monstrosity before a mission next time. And if you do, clean your filters more often.”

Chapter Text

~*~
According to Earth-Standard Time, it was early morning, around 5 A.M., when Grunt roused himself from his log-like sleep coma. Without opening his eyes he climbed down from his tank and slowly lumbered to the door to his “room.” Eyes still tightly shut, he went to the door, unlocked it, and lumbered back towards his tank.

The door immediately opened, and several female crew members, including Kelly Chambers and Gabriella Daniels, followed him inside. The girls were dressed in the standard Cerberus black and gold sleep uniform, and were looking just as half-asleep as the krogan before them.

As Grunt passed by a large cardboard box sitting on a table, he reached inside and plucked out the sleeping C.O. and flopped the cat onto his arm like a lifeless stole, all without
opening a single icy eye. C.O., however, opened a single blue eye to survey the scene before him before yawning widely and settling back into the crook of the krogan’s arm. Grunt hauled himself up into his tank and settled back to go back to sleep, apparently leaving the girls unattended in his quarters.

The girls immediately crowded around C.O.’s box, and in a ritual that was already becoming the norm on the Normandy, began sifting through the colorful mountain of purloined bras and panties C.O. had collected over the past week for their personal belongings.

Kelly pulled out a red bra and looked at Gaby with a sleepy-yet wide-eyed look. “I don’t get it. How did he get my bra? I had this in a locked footlocker!”

Gaby shrugged, pulling out a couple pairs of relatively furless pairs of underwear and stuffing them in her pajama pocket. “You say that every time, Kelly. You need to come up with a better excuse,” the engineer whispered, already heading for the door.

Kelly was following closely after, vehemently whispering the truth of her stolen underwear. “But I do! I lock up all my stuff! He’s a real cat-burglar—a panty-snatcher!”

Apparently C.O. had a fetish for woman’s lingerie, and he liked to steal it whenever he went exploring around the Normandy. He never tore the underwear up, or chewed on them—he simply seemed to like collecting them and sleeping on his treasure. It never mattered where the woman hid their clothes—eventually something ended up in C.O.’s box.

And because Grunt refused to leave his door unlocked when he wasn’t there, the only time the girls could get their missing clothes (mostly free from embarrassment) was in the unforgiving early morning hours. And so every Saturday morning, the females of the Normandy came to retrieve their clothes, causing C.O. to start his scavenger hunt again for another week.

Grunt could usually ignore the females and go back to sleep after they left, but a strange scent jerked him awake. The scent was strong, musky, and definitely male. Opening an eye,
Grunt found that it was Garrus rifling around in the box. The turian looked….weird though. The krogan narrowed his eyes, watching and trying to figure out why Garrus seemed off. He decided it was because the turian was dressed in his civilian wear, looking so tiny and vulnerable without the scarred blue armor.

It was obvious the turian was exceptionally uncomfortable with having to rifle through other female’s underwear for whatever he was after, and he couldn’t even look straight into the box. He was sifting through the clothes with the very tip of a talon, trying his damnedest to not actually touch anything in the box. Grunt was able to keep himself from snickering at the turian’s squeamishness.

“You owe me, Shepard,” Garrus growled under his breathe and sighed with relief when he saw the familiar black and red bra with the N7 logo embroidered on the side. Grabbing it, he tried to pull it out of the pile of yet-to-be-collected bras and panties, and found it snagged on something unseen. Giving the bra a harder tug, it came free, and as he lifted it clear of the box he saw that it was his visor entangled around the bra’s straps.

Ah, that’s what was missing, Grunt realized. He’s not wearing it. For once.

Garrus attempted to free his visor, but after a few quick tugs the visor and bra only seemed to entangle further. With an annoyed growl, the sniper attempted to stuff the two items into his pocket, but forgot he didn’t have any. He shoved them under an arm and looked up to find Grunt staring at him with an eyebrow raised and lopsided grin.

Grunt snickered at Garrus, whose mandibles twitched in embarrassment at being caught red-handed getting Shepard’s bra. “Find what you were looking for?” Grunt asked as innocently as possible, which of course made the question ten times more intimidating.

Garrus didn’t even bother to answer Grunt, but he did leave the room at an exceptionally fast pace.

In the meantime, C.O. continued to sleep draped over Grunt’s arm.

~*~

A few hours later, C.O. awoke with a sudden lion-sized yawn and stretched out his entire body from his claws to the tip of his tail. He immediately began grooming himself, mostly focusing on his ruffled neck fur (from Grunt picking him up) and around his face. C.O. wasn’t the most fastidious cleaner like some cats could be, but ruffled fur did seem to bother him.

Once every strand of gray fur was back in place, C.O. turned his eyes towards the sleep giant his was still perching on. With practiced ease and grace, C.O. pulled himself up Grunt’s armored chest until he sat right in front of Grunt’s sleeping face, and stared intently at the krogan. It was probably the only time Grunt could ever be described at looking “peaceful.”

“Mrow,” C.O. announced, but Grunt didn’t stir.

“Mrow?” C.O. tried again. Grunt’s snout moved slightly, but he stayed asleep.

“Mrow!” the cat said, and started bopping grunt’s snout playfully with his paws.

“ACCCCHHHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!” Grunt sneezed, sending C.O. flying a few feet. C.O. landed on his feet without injury, and with an attitude of good-natured annoyance found himself grooming his fur back into place.

Meanwhile, Grunt blinked sleepily, looking around his room to see what caused him to sneeze. Seeing C.O. grooming himself, Grunt glared at the cat suspiciously. Only recently had he started finding himself awoken each day by a giant sneeze.

Stepping down from his tank and stretching, Grunt saw C.O. glance at him innocently. “Mrow?” the cat asked.

“Don’t act innocent. I know you did that,” the krogan said grumpily.

As Grunt readied a fresh breakfast of nutritional Kitty-Kibble, C.O. jumped on the table and investigated the new scents lingering around his box. He meowed in annoyance upon finding the box empty, the last of the lingerie spirited away as he was sleeping. Tail twitching, C.O. realized he would have to go and find his treasures all over again!

There was a reason for the cat’s apparent underwear fetish. Not only did he enjoy the scent of the mostly human females he stole from, but the clothes were always soft and comfortable. There were very few things on the Normandy that could be described as “comfy;” everything served two, if not multiple purposes, and had to be made of efficiently as possible. Even the blankets used by the crew were only to keep them warm and alive at night; they were not the kind one could wrap up in and drift away in comfort.

C.O.’s box was empty, and he hated the blankets the crew used. And so, he had found a practical replacement: underwear, and lots of it.

He also enjoyed the challenge of the hunt. It wasn’t as though there were mice in the vents for him to practice his hunting skills on.

With a click of his tongue, Grunt got C.O. attention and placed the bowl of feed before him, and C.O.’s stomach growled in anticipation. As he took his dainty bites, Grunt ran a large hand down the cat’s back, and up his tail. The once itty-bitty kitten was now a full-grown cat, long and lengthy. He still had to remind himself to watch his strength around the cat. No matter how much bigger he had gotten, C.O. was still a fraction of Grunt’s size and strength.

C.O. snapped Grunt from his reverie with a playful nip on the finger. “Mrow!”

“Going to get rations. Are you coming with?” he asked bluntly. C.O. tiled his head as though in thought. Without another sound the cat jumped off the table onto a large pipe leading into the wall. Above the wall as a vent opening, and with a practiced fluidity he pried the vent open with a claw, wiggled inside, and disappeared into the bowels of the ship.

Grunt shrugged, and made his way towards the mess hall for his weekly feeding binge.

~*~

“GET OUT! GET OUT YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!” screamed an accented female’s voice, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. Miranda was standing on the other side of her desk, holding another glass paper weight, posed to throw it if C.O. appeared before her again.

The cat had scared the living daylights out of her by emerging from a vent above her desk as she had been working, landing inches from her face as he fell. What had sealed C.O.’s fate was the fact that he had taken a swipe at her with claws fully exposed when she jumped back, scaring him as well.

After grabbing the first projectile, C.O. had disappeared, but Miranda knew he was still in the room. The cat seemed to like tormenting her and was constantly trying to steal her stuff especially her….unmentionables. She had to keep hiding her property all over the room, and found it degrading she was expending so much effort outwitting a damn cat!

Not seeing the cat anywhere, Miranda started to walk around her desk, looking into any hiding places, still holding the paper weight. Nothing moved, and no noise was heard. Getting to the door, she still couldn’t find C.O. “Must have gotten back into the vents, little freak,” she snarled, and turned back towards her desk, only to find C.O. sitting there, grooming his face calmly, clearly mocking her.

“GET OUT!!!” she roared, and threw the weight with enough force to knock Grunt on his ass. C.O., luckily, was fast, and dodged the incoming projectile with ease. Large blue eyes locked onto angry brown ones and he hissed sharply at her in disapproval of her outburst.

With sudden energy, C.O. took a running leap at the woman, ran past her feet, jumped up on a wall and did a backflip out of the door as it opened. C.O. landed on his feet outside the door, and turned to walk away with his tail straight in the air, clearly dismissing Miranda as the doors to the office shut in her angry face.

The cat turned, and saw Grunt and Jack sitting at the mess hall table, staring at him.

“That cat’s got a quad that could rival yours, Grunt,” Jack noted, her voice a mixture of awe and delight.

Talking around a large mouthful of food, Grunt assured the convict, “He learned from the best.” The plate before him was covered in an enormous pile of meat, varren imported from
Tuchanka. The young krogan discovered he had a taste for the stuff while on Tuchanka, and had several pounds worth brought aboard the ship.

Jack rolled her eyes, then wrinkled her nose at Grunt’s breakfast of choice. “You really can’t find anything better to eat other than alien dog meat? Or at least something that doesn’t smell as fucking awful?”

Smelling the enticing meat (apparently C.O. shared the same taste as Grunt), the cat sauntered towards the table and jumped onto it, quickly making his way towards the two renegades.

“Huh. You’re delicate stomach is just too petty to eat proper food,” Grunt said, grabbing a chunk and tossing it at the cat. C.O. leapt up and caught the morsel like a dog jumps and catches a Frisbee in mid-air. He began making quick work of the chewy meat. “See? Even C.O. has better tastes than you,” Grunt said.

Jack scoffed. “He’s a cat, Grunt. He licks his own ass for fuck’s sakes! Probably does it to get the god awful taste of that shit outta his mouth.”

Grunt chuckled. “My point still stands. He’s still got better taste than some.”

Jack punched the krogan hard in the arm, but it didn’t faze Grunt, only making him roll his eyes. “Puny human. Still think you can take me on? Haven’t I put you in your place enough times yet?”

“Put me in my--? You ass! Shuttle room, this afternoon! We’ll see who’s puny then!” Jack challenged.

Grunt wiped his mouth from any bits of meat with the back of his hand and grinned at her dangerously. “Challenge accepted, convict.”

Deciding to see if there were more tidbits to be had, C.O. made his way to Jack, purring and rubbing against her, hoping she would feed him. Though not having any food in front of her, she did end up stroking the cat’s fluffy fur. As she scratched him behind the ears, Jack felt a thick callous atop C.O.’s head and behind his ears, places were Grunt most often “pet” him.

“Did you show up that bitch, C.O.?” Jack asked as C.O. rubbed against her hand. “Did you put her in her place? Yes, you did, good little kitty. Just don’t think this makes us friends or anything.”

While getting her to scratch his tail, C.O. turned and noticed a medium-sized basket on the table, and immediately crouched low in order to begin stalking it, dismissing Jack’s ministrations. The convict was forgotten, and though it never moved the cat began stalking forward, pausing every few steps he took towards the basket in question.

Gardner had placed the basket—the only homey touch aboard the ship—on the table and usually had it filled with fruit for the crew to come eat in between meals. The basket was currently empty, and had become the unknowing prey of a feline.

Jack watched C.O. with interest, but Grunt was too busy scarfing down his plate of meat to pay real attention to his young charge’s behavior.

POUNCE! C.O. jumped, and landed on the edge of the basket with claws extended. The basket flipped up and over, covering C.O. completely except for his long, gray tail, which whipped back and forth quickly outside the basket’s lip. The upside-down basket now started to scoot around the table as the cat crawled around, the vision of a strange caricature of an Earth turtle. Once in a while a long paw would swipe out from underneath at nothing in particular.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at the cat’s antics.

A few minutes later the basket came to a stop in the middle of the table, and C.O. pulled him his tail slowly, hiding himself completely. Losing interest, Jack got up to leave, reminded
Grunt about their “date,” and went to the elevator to return to the lower decks. Finishing up his meal, Grunt, too, left the cat to his own devices.

C.O. was now going to play his waiting game, waiting for someone to sit at the table for him to “attack.”

It didn’t take long. Gardner appeared a few minutes later, and started “cooking” breakfast for the human crew. Over a dozen sleepy humans began to filter into the mess hall, several sitting at the table and the air was filled with the quiet chatting of sleepy soldiers. They milled around making themselves cups of coffee, tea, juice, and water as they waited for the less-than-stellar attempt at an edible breakfast.

Kelly, Gabby, and Kenneth sat right in front of the overturned basket, but none noticed it.

In one of the last seats available, Dr. Chakwas arrived from her lab with a coffee cup already in hand, and took a seat across from the engineers. Between them the basket sat stone still.

“Morning, Chakwas!” Kelly said cheerfully, earning her many glares from nearby soldiers for her perkiness.

Chakwas grinned, and held up her cup. “In a few minutes, it will be,” the doctor said with good cheer, and pulled a small bottle of brandy from her coat and poured some into the cup.

Taking a sip, she smacked her lips in delight. “Ah, that’s hit the spot.”

Kenneth motioned towards the doctor. “Mind passin’ the good cheer thisaway, doc?” the Scotsman asked.

Chakwas liked the engineer well enough, and handed the small bottle towards the redhead.

It was then that C.O. attacked, the basket flipping up suddenly as C.O. swiped at the bottle overhead. With a surprised shriek, the Normandy’s doctor jumped, causing several surrounding people to jump at her surprise. The quiet of the hall became filled with a chorus of clinks as the plastic cups of startled soldiers fell to the ground, followed by colorful
swears. The floor of the hall became a small multicolored lake.

On the table lay the small bottle, its content poured over the table. Luckily, its small size meant the clean-up was quick. Kenneth grumbled as he helped the older doctor clean up the mess.

Chakwas put a hand on Kenneth’s and winked. “There’s more where that came from,” she said, tilting her head towards the lab.

“Doesn’t help me now, though,” he said with disdain at the cat, who had returned to hide under the basket.

Kelly grabbed it and lifted it up, only to reveal C.O. on his back, legs curled up, and looking at the redhead with the largest, most innocent blue eyes imaginable. “Meow?” he seemed to ask. “I didn’t do anything, what are you talking about?” he seemed to be asking.

“Get outta here, fuzzy!” she said, shooing him off the table, not falling for his “innocent kitten” trick. “Go on! We’d like to eat in peace, please!”

As others took up the chance to try and scare the cat away, C.O. jumped off the table to find something else to go do. As he walked away from the table, he saw the tall, green and black alien standing outside Chakwas’ lab, then walk inside. It was time for Thane’s weekly physical, to keep track of the progress of his Kepral’s Syndrome. He would wait patiently inside until Chakwas finished breakfast and returned to the lab.

C.O., still feeling a bit mischievous, made his way towards the lab, but disappeared around the corner, deciding to play another one of his favorite games: Tag.

~*~

The door opened and Thane walked into his quarters about an hour later, back from the lab. Though the disease had not spread any further since he had arrived on the Normandy, his face did not reveal any happiness or relief at the news.

He made his way towards his desk and sat, his mind racing with various thoughts. Life, death, honor, shame, his son Kolyat, memories of his life and the lives he had taken, all remembered in perfect clarity…he could not concentrate on anything.

“I must calm myself, for Shepard’s sake. I am no use to her as a ball of uncontrolled emotions, should she call on me today,” he said to himself. Breathing in slowly and calmly, Thane started to go into his trademark mediation pose, hoping to calm his racing thoughts.

Something snapped Thane from his attempted mediations a few moments later, but after listening for a few seconds he realized it wasn’t Shepard coming into his room to talk to him.

Siha was good about not being a constant bother to the drell assassin, but he did enjoy their conversations when they occurred.

No, this was something else. He didn’t move, waiting a few seconds to determine what had his assassin’s instincts on high alert. There were eyes watching him, from somewhere close by.

I’m being hunted, Thane realized, allowing himself to be encompassed by the feeling of knowing that he was on the end of a hunter’s sights, and he the “helpless” prey. It was definitely a strange sensation, and one that was exceptionally alien to him.

Black eyes darting around his room to try and determine where he was being watched from, Thane decided to play off the feelings, pretending to be completely ignorant of his stalker until he could get a better idea of where to search first. Standing suddenly, Thane wandered around his room for a moment as though looking for something, but he was actually searching nonchalantly.

Something told him to look up, and he found himself under a vent opening from the ceiling, one that was open for no explanation.

Really? I expected something a little more deceptive, little one, the alien chuckled to himself. He reached up and was able to push it back into place, and as he did so he thought he heard a slight shuffling sound that seemed to come from deep within the shaft.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Thane admonished his young student.

The assassin, confident that he had been able to halt C.O.’s attempt to “hunt” him, went back to his desk to try and meditate again. Fingers laced together, black eyes closed, Thane tried to allow himself back into the calm place deep within, the place where his perfect memories could not distract him.

A few moments later, he felt the stalking sensation again. Apparently C.O. was back. Thane had to appreciate the little cat’s determination. Opening his eyes, Thane gasped slightly when he found C.O. staring at him from only a few inches away.

The cat sat on the desk before him, tail flickering slightly. “Mrow,” the cat announced, a laid a single paw on Thane’s laced hands.

Thane, still shocked at being so utterly clueless to C.O. right in front of him, laughed. “You win,” the drell warbled with a slight smile. “We’re now tied, I believe.”

C.O. seemed to know he had just tricked an assassin, and began trying to rub his long body along Thane’s face in his own version of a “victory dance.” His tail dragged across Thane’s face, making the drell sneeze once.

Thane had snuck up on the cat once in the mess hall, and the incident had turned into a game of hunter and hunted between the trained hunter and natural one. While playing, whoever touched the other first without being caught won. The score had been Thane 7, C.O. 6, and now they were tied. C.O. had won the past several rounds with an agility and intellect that was nothing short of conniving.

Thane moved back, standing and making his way towards the door in order to let C.O. out. When he turned back, however, he saw C.O. cleaning his coat then suddenly fall over onto the desk. “Meow…?” the cat seemed to ask, and with a wide-eyed stare looked off, suddenly finding the ceiling above absolutely fascinating to watch.

Thane sighed heavily in annoyance. It seemed that his hallucinogenic saliva worked on cats, too. He went back to his desk, watching C.O.’s blue eyes drift around lazily, contently watching something invisible floating around his head. The only thing to do was keep an eye on the cat until the effects wore off and the cat could move on his own once again without falling over.

Until that point, Thane went back to his meditations, praying that he would be able to see Koylat again before he died, either at the hands of the disease within him, or at the Collectors’.

~*~

Unlike Joker, who had come to see it as an enemy to beat, she found the void before her a comforting presence. The Asari Justicar stared out into space, finding the non-changing scenery the perfect background to allow her to mediate without distraction, without thought, without feeling. A soft-blue glow enveloped her, and Samara levitated a few inches above the floor. The meditative trance she kept herself in allowed her to keep her energy use low until Shepard called upon her expertise for a mission.

It also prevented her from thinking about what she had just been forced to do.

It was said that to be a true Justicar, one must kill oneself. When Samara had first heard this morbid proclamation, she did not understand its true implication. She had just begun her Justicar training, and she wanted to do some good for this corrupt galaxy. In her mind, to “kill herself” would have been to continue her lawless life, her life that held no real meaning.
It would have meant allowing Morinth to continue living, and killing.

Now, after so many centuries of pursuit, Samara finally understood: by killing Morinth, the strongest, smartest, bravest, and most dangerous of her daughters, she had killed herself.

The final bond to this plane of existence was cut, and Samara was now a truly impartial Justicar.

There was nothing left to Samara but the Code and her oath to Shepard. Even so, she still needed time to put her disorderly soul to rest, so that when Shepard did call on her, she could fight, and possibly die, cleansed.

The door behind her whooshed open for the first time in days, but the Justicar did not react. Samara simply waited for the visitor to make itself known. It was not the determined walk of the Commander, but the light footfalls of someone used to having to quickly disappear. There was a quiet shuffling sound as the intruder sat down beside her but still did not speak.

Samara turned her white eyes to the stranger in her midst.

“I asked Shepard to let the crew know I was not to be disturbed. Please, leave.”

“No one should grieve alone,” spoke the guttural voice of the drell assassin. “I…heard about what happened. You’re daughter….I wish to offer my condolences.”

Samara was slightly surprised. She and Thane had barely spoken a sentence to each other since both had been aboard, even being in the rooms next to each other.

Nevertheless there he sat; looking out the observation port, his expression (though hard to read) seemed distant. She noticed that his eyes were the same shade of cold ebony outside.

“A Justicar does not mourn the death of an Ardat-Yakshi,” she said coolly.

“But a mother mourns the loss of a daughter, does she not?” he quietly countered.

“There is nothing to mourn. Morinth had become a menace to every being in the galaxy. It is my duty as Justicar to uphold the Code; to protect the innocent and punish the wicked. Mornith’s reign of terror has finally ended after hundreds of years.”

“And yet, as a parent, we are supposed to protect them from the evils this imperfect universe holds for them,” Thane said.

Samara was quiet for a few moments. “Not every soul can be saved. Not every child can be protected. Not every son can be prevented from making the same mistakes as his father.”
Despite her supposed impartiality, there was a bitter tone to Samara’s biting remark.

Thane did not allow her underhanded blow to hurt him. “No, I suppose you are right. Though my past is stained by blood, I was allowed a second chance. I came to offer my condolences for the fact that you were not given such chance.”

There was a strained silence between them, and after a moment Thane stood to leave her in peace. Samara could not help the small part of her that was filled with rage and jealousy at Thane. An assassin’s son was saved, but a Justicar’s daughter was killed? It made one question the wisdom of the Goddess, of the truth of the Code. It made her mediations all the more important, to cleanse her mind and soul of any questions or concerns.

“Forgive me,” Samara said finally, causing Thane to pause in front of the door. “My soul is in turmoil, and so I say things I shouldn’t. I appreciate your concern, Mr. Krios.”

“Just call me Thane,” he said, the barest hint of a smile gracing his features. “Would you mind if a mediate here for a while with you?” Thane asked.

“I would appreciate the company,” Samara admitted. Without a sound Thane returned to his spot, sitting cross-legged and with his hands laced before him.

“The view is amazing,” he commented. “Such a calming darkness I’ve not seen yet. Something that appears to be lifeless and yet is full of so many lives, complicated and simple.”

“I, too, find it calming,” Samara replied. “My Code is my Life, and requires much sacrifice, but also trust. It is easy to become distracted by personal ambitions, goals, and events. When one is faced with such a sight, it is easy to be reminded that we are but an infinitesimal part of the true universe. We cannot know why all things happen, but even in my own personal darkness, I find that the void is comforting.”

Thane nodded, and the two started to fall into their own personal trances when the door whooshed open behind them again.

C.O. stood there calmly as the door opened, then sauntered inside. Apparently the last effects of Thane’s saliva had worn off, and the cat was back to his old, mostly coordinated self.
He started sniffing around the room, taking in all the different alien scents the two together produced.

He had learned early on to open almost any door on the ship. Since they were based on motion, if he jumped up right in front of the holographic “eye” that floated in front of all the doors on the Normandy, it would open and allow him access. Between this method and his expansive knowledge of the ships’ ventilation system, there was truly nowhere that C.O. could not go.

Samara felt paws on her leg suddenly. C.O. had finished his investigation of the room, and had come to investigate the floating asari. Her biotics raised the fur on his back and tail, and he sneezed as it tickled his nose. Not to be deterred, he wiggled his butt and jumped into her lap.

Samara looked at the cat, but did not move. “Remove yourself from me, little one,” she said sternly, but the cat ignored her. Instead, he tried to knead her legs, but found the field of blue biotics around her acting like a shield. “Meowwww!” he growled in confusion.

“He’s a stubborn one,” Thane said with good nature.

“I said get off of me,” Samara said again, but C.O. instead tried to bat at her face gently with a paw, keeping his claws sheathed.

Without using her hands, Samara gently pushed him of her lap with a burst of biotics. C.O. landed on the floor, stared at the two aliens sitting side by side, and sighed. Finding a small spot between them, he curled his paws under him and his tail around himself, and began to purr.

Together the three stared out the glass window, each mediating in their own way.

~*~

It was considered mid-afternoon when Shepard finished her rounds of the ship and her crew. Walking through the door to her cabin, she made a beeline for her desk and dropped the pile of datapads there. Each one contained a report for her to read: from Kenneth in Engineering, Jacob in the Tech Lab, Mordin, Miranda, Garrus, Gardner, Joker, Kelly….so much to read!

She collapsed in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. Bullets whizzing past her head, screams of dying enemies, blood splattering on her face, fighting the Reapers or Collectors—none of this gave her a headache as much as filing paperwork and reading droll supply reports.

One would think there would be less paperwork to do, considering she was on her own, and not connected with the Alliance. One would think, anyway.

Opening her eyes, Shepard jumped back when she saw a black silhouette sitting on a small shelf in from of the fish tank wall.

C.O. barely reacted to her, merely glancing at her before turning his eyes towards the soft-blue glow the tank gave off. His head twitched slightly as he watched the fish swim around, the only thing separating the animals a thick wall of glass.

The glow reflecting off of his eyes made him look almost demonic, and sinister, but C.O. was a mischievous sweetheart of a cat. The light caught the dull metal of his beloved dog tag and was thrown around the room every time he moved.

“You need to stop catching me off guard like that, or I might just shoot you,” Shepard said sternly, knowing her words had no effect on him.

Turning from the cat, Shepard attempted to start her homework, but after a few minutes had to replace the data pad with a sigh. Her mind was not in the right place to read such technical material.

“Mew?” came a quiet noise, and she glanced over to see C.O. had moved from his perch to sitting on the side on her desk, watching her. With a grin, Shepard picked the cat up and held him to her chest, stroking his gray fur and scratching the top of his head. The thick callous which had grown there from Grunt’s repeated scratching felt hard under her fingernails. His whole body seemed to vibrate from his content purring.

The cat had grown in the four months he had been living on the Normandy. Where once he had been a tiny ball of fluff and energy, he was almost full grown. C.O. was long and lean, and interestingly enough his eyes had never changed from the bright blue of a baby to the usual yellow or green of a full grown adult. This made Shepard happy—C.O. just wouldn’t have been the same without that fluffy gray fur or big, blue eyes.

“You know, despite the chaos you’ve created on my ship, I’m kinda glad I got you for Grunt. At least I don’t have to listen to I.M. bitch about having to replace the steel walls in Grunt’s quarters anymore.”

“Mew,” C.O. seemed to agree.

“Well,” Shepard started seriously. “We gotta make sure Garrus doesn’t find out about our little rendezvous. Even though you’re cute and fluffy, and sorta look like him, he’s really picky about other males being in his territory. It’s nothing personal; I think it’s a bird-ancestor thing. Anyways, if we keep this on the quiet side, it would be all for the best.”

“Puuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrr,” was C.O.’s only response as he kneaded her arm, finding that watching the graceful fish made him really sleepy and want a nap.

“Oh, no, don’t start that mess,” Shepard said sternly, putting the cat on the floor and stretching out her back and arms. C.O.’s tail flicked in disappointment as his interrupted nap ritual.
Shepard stood up, leaning back to crack her spine. “I have to go report to the Illusive Man. Want to come with?”

“Mrowr!” C.O. said, and padded after the Commander as she made her way to the elevator. As she stood still and waited to go down, C.O. sat beside her, mimicking her straight back and putting his forepaws together like she did.

Shepard chuckled. “Look, C.O. I don’t care if you come up to check out the fish, but don’t even think about casing the place for any more of my underwear! I do not want to have to make sure you stay locked up in Grunt’s quarters for the rest of your life, okay? Do we understand each other?”

C.O. looked up at her and tilted his head. “Mew?” he asked.

“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, Commander.’”

Finally, the elevator does opened, and Shepard made her way towards the meeting room to speak with the Illusive Man. When she looked back, she saw C.O. stalking away, probably towards a hidden vent opening in order to cause some other form of mischief.

She walked into the room and waiting to for the hologram of the Illusive Man to appear.

The black room changed and a sun appeared behind the Man’s chair, and there he was, smoking as usual, eyes glowing their strange blue glow.

“Shepard,” he greeted. “Glad you came as quickly as you did. I have a mission for you that may be the just the thing we need to attack the Collector’s right on their own ground.”

“What have you got for me?” she asked simply.

“We have information on a derelict Reaper, and I believe we can procure its IFF transmitter and install in the Normandy. With this, you will be able to fight the Collectors right on their
own doorstep.”

Shepard crossed her arms, but couldn’t help feeling her spirits lift a little. It seemed that this would be the first time to finally get a couple steps ahead of the buggy bastards. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll bite. Where’s this Reaper, and how do I get the IFF?”

~*~

A small human fist, surrounded by a thick blue field, smashed into Grunt’s face as hard as possible, knocking him back, but not enough to land him on his ass.

He laughed loudly at Jack’s attempt to best him. “Come on!” he goaded. “You can’t even draw my blood? No wonder Shepard never uses you for her missions!”

Jack’s field grew brighter as she screamed obscenities at the krogan and charged into him, this time succeeding in knocking him to the floor with a thunderous rumble that could be felt throughout the ship. “Get up, big lizard! I ain’t through with you yet!”

They circled each other in the shuttle bay, which had become (in between missions) a sparring room. It was mostly used for Grunt and Jack, who beat the crap out of each other on a regular basis. This seemed to be the only thing keeping the two powerhouses under control in between missions, allowing them to release their pent up energies.

Arm-wrestling, though fun, was just not good enough to hit the spot like a right hook to the face could do. That and the strange taunts they liked to throw at each other. Garrus had joked more than once while supervising their sparring matches that it was how they flirted with each other.

Grunt got to his feet, grinning madly. “That’s right! Get mad! Anger is the most powerful tool we have to use to crush our enemies!” He got to his feet, planted them, then charged straight at Jack.

Jack braced herself, and just when he was about to reach her, shielded her body with her biotics. Instead of forcing himself through like he planned, Grunt hit the shield and ricocheted off, sending him into an undignified heap on the floor.

“Do you think your stupid biotics are going to save you again, female?” he snapped, eying her with his intense blue stare.

She laughed. “I'm not the one with their ass on the ground, am I?”

“That was a lucky strike for you. I am krogan! Pure, perfect krogan! Not that you would know anything about purity....”

“Oh, ow, a low blow from the perfect krogan,” Jack snarled sarcastically. “I think I might cry, if you keep that up.”

“Fuck you,” Grunt snarled.

“You couldn't handle me even if you tried it,” Jack said, grinning like a...well, a mad woman.

Grunt didn’t say anything, but raised an eyebrow at her taunt. For a moment, he couldn’t decide if it was an actually invitation or just more ball-bashing, as they often did to each other.
He decided to believe it was the latter.

He lunged at her again, this time putting as much force he could muster behind a powerful uppercut that would have crushed anyone else's ribs into jelly, but Jack shielded herself in time. She actually flew into the air, bounced off the ceiling, and used the momentum to smash into Grunt, sending him sprawled to the ground.

Grunt realized-with a twinge of annoyance-that he was going to have to use some tact against the biotic. Brute strength alone she could repel with little effort, and even use against him. But if he could antagonize her enough, maybe she would drop her guard just enough reveal a weakness he could use....

Jack could feel her anger mounting as the Krogan simply stood there and glared at her with crystal blue eyes. Why wasn't he charging her again? There was no way he was over his battle rage already-and if he was, she would have to wind him back up.

“Is that it?” she snarled. “Is that all the great, fucking perfect krogan has to offer? You're pathetic!”

“That's right, I am the genetically perfected son of the Krogan race. Which means I'm not going to waste a single second on someone like you,” he hissed, motioning to her body, “who is the complete opposite of everything I am. If I am going to show someone my real strength, it will be someone who can actually handle it.”

Grunt allowed his taunts to sink in, and allowed himself the barest of smirks. He could see the biotic waves around the woman wobble and pulse as her temper skyrocketed. Any moment now....

Without warning, Jack hauled back and backhanded the alien, the power multiplied tenfold by her biotics. Grunt staggered back, holding his jaw, not exactly surprised by her antics.

“You bastard! You have no right to call me anything! You didn't have to deal with the shit I did, you fucking tube baby--!”

Seeing his opportunity, Grunt surged forward as she snapped, and shoved his shoulder into her chest, sending her flying into the wall. Before she could recover, his thickly muscled arm was at her throat, pinning her effectively to the wall. No matter how she struggled, it was like fighting against living steel. Though not choking her, his arm did impede her airway a bit, making her work to breathe.

“Calm down, Jack,” Grunt said sternly. “Controlled anger gives you the power to crush your enemies. Uncontrolled anger simply makes you more open to attack.”

This was a lesson he had learned on Tuchanka, and he felt the need to share it with Jack (whose power he respected,); he realized that unless she funneled her power into her anger, she would never be as powerful as she could be.

“Thanks, Dad,” she snapped. “Can we just finish up this tender, heart-to-heart already and start beating the shit out of each other again?”

Grunt grinned. “If you think you can handle it,” he said, stepping back and releasing her.

Without warning, Jack threw such a powerful sucker punch at the krogan that he actually stumbled backwards. A hand to his mouth was pulled back to revel a trickle of blood. He glared at Jack. “You actually drew blood, for once,” he teased.

Before Jack could reply, C.O. launched himself at the biotic convict, hissing as he flew through the air from a crate he had been perched on. Having seen Jack’s underhanded attack, the cat had become defensive of his krogan friend.

Jack saw him in time to surround the cat in a protective field. The cat wiggled violently in the air, trying to put his paws on something solid but he continued to float in mid-air.

“Mrowr!!!” he wailed, anger replaced by confusion and fear.

“Grunt!” Jack snapped. “Put your toys away before they get broken.” She lowered the cat to the ground, and Grunt came over as the field disappeared, freeing the cat.

The krogan grinned. “Good to see you know how to defend your krantt, C.O.,” he said, calming the still defensive cat down by petting him between the ears. “You have a knack for fighting,” he said with pride.

Jack crossed her arms and scoffed. “I’ll spar with a krogan, but I’m not playing with a cat. If he dies, Shepard will think I did it on purpose and feed me to a Thresher.”

C.O. hissed at Jack angrily, but after assuring himself that Grunt was, in fact, uninjured, he seemed to lose interest in the fight, and started wandering away towards the door. Both krogan and human watched the cat disappear, before turning back to each other.

“Round two?” Jack asked.

“Three, by my count. And I’m winning,” Grunt countered.

“Your cat tried to claw off my face! That doesn’t count as a win, that counts as bad parenting, dumbass.”

“You’re still losing, female.”

“I WILL DESTROY YOU!!!!!!”

~*~

Grunt returned to his quarters late that night, after having eaten and taken a shower after the sparring match with Jack (whom he had beaten, no surprise). The room was quiet, and a quick look about revealed no cat to be found.

As he made his way towards his tank to sleep, he paused to peer inside the battered, cardboard box C.O. had first arrived in with Shepard just a few short months ago.

Inside the box was C.O., curled up into a gray ball, his dog tag turned around his neck and sitting on his shoulder.

Underneath the cat’s head was a small pile of black material, which Grunt realized with a practiced eye was a human female’s bra. The only identifying marks on the garment were the silver initials “M.L.” embroidered on the side.

The krogan shook his head. “Don’t you do anything else during the day?”

Chapter Text

~*~
As she waited for the elevator to carry her down to the shuttle deck, Shepard shifted her body slightly to adjust her armor to be tighter. Every holster on her body held a weapon of some sort, and her armor was battered and bruised but felt like a second skin. The red and white strip running down her left arm was a constant reminder that, despite her current uniform of black, gold, and white, she was always an N7 soldier at heart.

Finally, the elevator opened, and she started towards the shuttle, slightly taken aback by the “upgrades” Miranda had given it.

It was longer and a little bulkier than the 3-person tin can Shepard had been used to. The new model (which the Illusive Man was kind enough to fund without too much fuss) held all of her team comfortably, allowing Shepard the luxury of being able to switch out members during the mission if needed.

As she approached, she saw Garrus waiting for her just outside of the door. “Shepard. Like the new ride?” he asked, plainly curious to know her opinion.

Shepard crossed her arms and gave the shuttle a glance over. “Not sure if I like the trade-off between stealth and more squad members. Seems a bit useless having everyone come with—I’m still sticking to the 3-person team.”

“Well, we’ll try it out. If it’s really going to be too much of a hassle, we can just stick to the usual routine,” Garrus said. He grinned. “Think the Illusive Man can return this if he shows his receipt?”

Shepard grinned, and familiar foot stomps behind her revealed that Grunt had just arrived. She gave Grunt a look. “Did you forget how to tell time, Grunt? I don’t accept late arrivals for a mission.”

“Sorry, Shepard. We’re here now, so let’s go,” Grunt said, turning his head sideways to crack his neck. He seemed more than just anxious to get going.

Shepard narrowed her eyes at his odd behavior. “Grunt, what are you hiding--?”

“Meeow!” came an excited cry, and from behind Grunt’s hump poked out C.O.’s gray head.

Shepard’s eyes grew wide. “Oh HELL NO!” she snapped. “NO WAY!”

“But, Shepard, we’ve been training!” Grunt said, trying to cut off her anger before she even got started. “He’ll be an important asset, but he can’t become a true warrior without being blooded in battle—“

“No, Grunt! No cat! I expressly forbid it! Put him back and get your ass on the shuttle!”

“But, Shepard—“

“No!” she snapped, cutting him off. “Now, get in the shuttle, Grunt. We’ll discuss this later.”

For a moment the two locked eyes in a titanic battle of wills. Garrus’ hand unconsciously inched towards his hip-slung hand cannon in case Grunt decided today was the day he was going to challenge Shepard’s authority as Battle Master once and for all.

C.O. defused the situation unintentionally by jumped down from Grunt’s back and sauntering forward to curl him body around Shepard’s legs. “Mroooooooooowr,” he said, wishing them the best of luck in his own way.

Without a word, Grunt surged past cat, Commander, and turian, and stomped onto the shuttle.

Shepard let out a huge sigh of relief and turned to see Garrus slide his gun back into place. “That was too close, Shepard,” the turian said in warning.

She stepped over the cat and past the turian. “You don’t think I know that? Gonna have to have a talk with him later. That’ll be fun….”

Garrus was left standing next to a thoroughly dejected C.O.

“Mew?” the cat said hopefully, catching the turian’s eyes. Garrus shrugged at the cat, and walked onto the shuttle, ignoring his cries of attention. The cat sulked into the bowels of the ship as the shuttle flew off into the void.

~*~

“I told you, EDI! It’s white noise,” Joker sighed in annoyance, fingers manipulating the holographic icons with his usual brisk efficiency. The Reaper’s IFF had been giving him and the A.I. more trouble than it was worth, in his opinion. Especially since it had just unleashed a virus into to ship’s main computer.

EDI’s sudden paranoia wasn’t helping the situation.

“Jeff,” she said, catching his attention. It was weird hearing a computer call him that. “I’m picking up a transmission embedded in the virus. It’s transmitting the Normandy’s current location.”

That made Joker pause, and his stomach seemed to drop into the floor. “Wait, what? Transmitting it to where--?”

The entire ship shuddered violently as the bulbous, insectoid ship seemed to appear right over the much smaller Normandy, and the energy displaced battered her like an ocean wave.

Joker’s mouth dropped open as he saw the ship through the window before him. His heart jumped into his throat, and it became very hard to breathe. He didn’t hear EDI shouting to try and snap him out of his shock, nor did he hear her say who the ship was.

He recognized it immediately as the Collector ship.

He also recognized it as the ship that had blown the Normandy into slag two years prior. The same attack that had killed Shepard.

“Oh, shit. Shit, shit, SHIT!!!” he yelped.

EDI’s voice finally seemed to break through his clouded mind. “The Collectors are boarding, Jeff. I need you to go down to the A.I. Core to reboot the system so I can flush the reaper virus. Jeff! Did you understand?”

It took Joker a few precious seconds to get himself out of the padded chair and start moving towards the elevator. A huge creature bashed its way into the navigation room, and started attacking the poor, unfortunate souls still there. Unfortunately, their capture allowed Joker to get to the maintenance shaft that would lead towards the A.I. Core.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Joker moaned again, willing his body to go faster than hobbling speed, but knowing if he pushed himself too hard all he would do is break something and make it that much easier for a Collector to get him.

The screams from the terrified crew as they were dragged away by the insectoid Collectors made for a nightmarish soundtrack. He was beyond terrified as the sounds around him were punctuated by thumps and thuds as Collectors searched for all human crew members.

~*~

The strong scent of the Collectors wafted into the Normandy’s vents and air shafts, eventually coming upon a sleeping C.O. The young cat was curled into a fluffy ball as the air moved gently around him, having decided to sleep in the comfort of the enclosed shaft to await the return of the shuttle and his family.

The scent literally jerked him from his slumber, and his meowed in annoyance and slight disgust, but he didn’t realize the dire circumstances attached to that smell. C.O. was used to strange, alien smells coming and going on the ship. Shepard had been bringing different aliens aboard constantly, so the cat was used to different smells wafting around the vents.

This scent bothered him though, to the point of getting up to try and find out what was sending out such a pungent odor. The smell was very strong, which meant there was more than one on the ship. That was interesting.

As he walked along the vents, turning onto side shafts once in a while to follow the odor as it got stronger, another smell assaulted him, literally. It was so strong it made him stop in his tracks and hiss in absolute disgust. It was old blood, rotten meat, and strange burning of electrical equipment that made his nose twitch in revulsion. C.O.’s ears lay low, and his fur stood on end. His gut told him these new smells were bad, very bad news.

C.O.’s ears turned suddenly, and he picked up the screaming of the Cerberus crew. The scent of the humans aboard the ship intensified as their scent changed from normal, healthy scent to a terrified, adrenaline filled cloud that made the cat blink warily.

Something was attacking his humans, on his ship, and C.O. became very territorial. He doubled back, following the strong scents and quickly running through the shafts lightning fast.
He starting making his way back towards the shuttle bay—if he howled loud enough, maybe Grunt would hear him and come back to stop the bad smelling creatures.

This was the plan C.O. had in mind, until another smell made him skid to a stop. It was of the weak human, the one who always sat in the chair at the top of the ship. His bones were weak and frail, but he was nice and always pet C.O. when he visited the human.

C.O. tilted his head slightly. This human was in the wrong place, near the place where he, Grunt, and the furless human with the colorful skin lived, near the bottom of the ship.

The cat started towards the smell, but the repugnant, odor of death suddenly became stronger, startling the cat. C.O. began running towards the human’s scent, knowing that if he didn’t get there fast enough, the smelly creature would instead.

~*~

With all of Shepard’s team away on a mission, there had been no one left to defend the crew.

Joker couldn’t help himself. “Goddammit, Miranda! You just had to upgrade the shuttle so Shepard could take ALL her crew with her! Dammit, you accented bitch!”

“This is not the time for verbal outbursts, Jeff,” EDI scolded over his personal communicator.

“I think this is the perfect time to do that!” he snapped. His body was past its literal breaking point. The only thing holding him together were the implanted cybernetics Cerberus had been kind enough to provide him with.

He had been able to shut down the virus so EDI could access the Normandy’s mainframe directly, but now had to crawl down into the engineering room to restart the primary engines.
As he opened the maintenance shaft into the cargo hold, the flickering red lights and continued screams made him think he had just stepped into Hell itself. He made his way up towards the bridge connecting the cargo holds and engineering deck.

“Hostiles are present in engineering,” EDI warned.

He paused at the foot of the stairs and peered around the post, only to jerk his head back. A Collector with a levitating cart of some sort crossed over the bridge, luckily not turning and looking at him before going through the other door. Darting forward, Joker made his way up the steps, and had just gotten in front of the Engineering door when it opened, and a
Scion Husk stood before him.

It was the most horrible thing he could imagine. A giant body that seemed to have human legs but a hot air balloon blow up under the skin on its back. One arm was held straight out like an old style Earth Hollywood zombie. Its skin was bluish black and rubbery, and its eyes glowed demonically. Parts of its body glowed from implanted cybernetics that he couldn’t
see.

The thing saw him and roared, and Joker fell back onto the floor with a thud, terror freezing him completely. EDI shouted in his ear to move, run, something, but he couldn’t hear her.

The Scion stood over him, and lifted up its arm to bring down on Joker’s skull. He closed his eyes tightly, too terrified to move, not wanting to watch his own death.

At least now I don’t have to explain to Shepard that I lost the crew again….

“MMMMMMMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!”

Joker’s death trance was broken by sound that could only be called demonic in nature, and he looked up in time to see a gray blur leap from a vent straight onto the Scion’s face.
Screaming and howling like a demon from Hell, C.O. attacking the husk with a fury that Joker didn’t even know the cat had in him.

Black blood flowed freely as the cat clawed with all his might. Kicking with his back legs and pulling himself up onto the bulbous back, C.O. raked the leathery skin with all his might, and managed to open impressive wounds in the Husk.

The Husk twisted and turned frantically, trying to grab the lightning fast cat with its one arm. C.O. simply dug his claws in deeper, and the second the Husk slowed down he darted forward onto the top of its head and dragged his claws over the creature’s face, trying desperately to claw its eyes out.

Joker watched the fight for what seemed an eternity, but had only been mere seconds until EDI’s voice broke the cloud over his mind. “JOKER!!! You MUST get to Engineering! C.O. is distracting the husk, now MOVE!”

The Scion stumbled violently and blindly as C.O. had managed to shred one glowing eye, and was trying to swipe at the other. The Husk stumbled towards the stairs and almost fell down them, allowing Joker to stand and hobble forth as fast as he could. The creatures were engaged in a fight to the death, and black blood splattered onto his cheek as he ran past.
Fingers touching the warm drops, he gasped when he saw it was a mixture of red and black.

“C.O.! I’ve got too--” he started, hesitating for a second.

“The cat is fine! Now MOVE!” EDI said, and Joker ran without thought. The door locked behind him but the unholy screams of both husk and cat continued unabated.

He got to the console and started typing away furiously. “Just hang in there little guy, just hang in there….” He muttered. Joker stumbled towards the drive and was finally able to engage the engines.

“EDI! We’re back online!” the pilot said in relief.

The unholy screams and snarls still continuing outside, Joker quickly turned at stumbled back towards the door to get the cat, the door whooshed open and C.O. came flying in, hitting Joker in the stomach so hard he fell back on his ass.

Joker looked up in time to see the Husk lunge towards the door, arm outreached and mouth open in silent screams of rage and pain.

The door slammed shut in the creatures face, and it began pounding on the door with renowned vigor.

EDI’s voice was the voice on an angel. “Sealing the door. I’m going to open all air locks and engage acceleration drives,” she announced.

“Wait, wait! What about the crew?!”

“The crew’s gone, Jeff,” EDI said, almost gently. However, the tender moment was broken as he fell flat on his back at the force from the ship flying away at almost light speed.

The moment gravity returned he sat up and winched in pain. C.O. must have broken at least one of his ribs.

“C.O.! Where are you--?” he said, looking around, only for his mouth to drop open in horror as he saw the cat lying a few feet from him.

The cat was laying sickeningly still. His gray, tabby fur was soaked with black blood and gore. It was impossible to tell where his wounds were, where his blood started and were the Scion’s ended.

His paws, underbelly, and mouth were covered in blood, and even the red and white stripe of the dog tag was completely covered in blood at stripes of gore.

“No, no, no, God, no….” Joker moaned, sure the cat was dead. Nothing could have survived a fight with that monster!

The tip of his tail twitched. “m……e……….r……….” C.O. rasped.

“Holy fuck!” the pilot said in relief, and he sat for a moment, unsure what to do. C.O. definitely had some broken bones, maybe ruptured organs. His tail twisted in an unnatural way, and his front paw seemed flattened by his impact with the pilot’s abs.

He’d had enough broken bones to know he wasn’t supposed to move the cat. Though his hands were shaking badly, he crossed his arms to keep from holding the injured cat and sat in front of him. He watched C.O.’s body rise and fall as he breathed.

Joker sat with his back against the wall, trying not to cry. The cat was a tough little bastard, and though still breathing, they were shallow at best.

“EDI, get Shepard back here NOW!” Joker choked out. “Tell her what happened. Tell her to hurry!”

“Message away. Are you okay, Jeff?” the A.I. asked.

“No, but I’m not worried about me,” he said, and didn’t even try to stop the tears that rolled down his face. “You saved my life, you stupid, suicidal cat! You better live, or Grunt will finish what that husk started.” His bravado suddenly disserted him. He rocked back and forth, shuddering from the myriad of terror, sadness, helplessness, and loneliness the attack had
created.

“She better hurry…..Shepard, please, hurry….”

~*~

It seemed like seconds later when the door opened once again. For a moment Joker thought the Scion had returned to finish its fight with C.O., but the silhouette before him was smaller, human shaped. That was about all his brain absorbed before his glazed eyes turned away, and he continued to rock back and forth, to overcome with shock to actually
recognize his Commander.

Shepard had jumped off the shuttle before it had even landed in the bay, and had run at top speed through the ship to Engineering. She knew the team was following after her, but she had a good minute lead on them.

EDI had explained everything: the Virus, the Collector’s attack, and even of C.O.’s brave fight with the Scion Husk. Now, as she came upon the bridge leading to the engine room, she saw the EDI had not exaggerated.

Black blood was splashed up and down the walls, railings, and floors. Small puddles of it where everywhere, and a trail lead off through the opposite door. The Scion had walked away, but it had definitely not left uninjured.

Shepard looked around in shock. “Holy hell,” she said in awe at C.O.’s work. Sure, cats had sharp claws, but damn!

She made her way to the door, which was already open, and saw Joker, sitting on the floor, rocking gently back and forth muttering to himself. The physical and emotional shock of what he had just gone through had pushed him to the boundary of sanity.

Two Collector attacks in two years. He lost both crews. He had almost lost both ships. Joker was locked in a mental maelstrom of guilt and fear in his mind. Shepard knew that Joker was in serious trouble.

She walked up to him and yelled. “Joker! Wake up!” she commanded.

Nothing. He looked at her, but didn’t seem to actually see her.

Shepard knelt in front of him, trying to snap him from his trance. “Joker! This is Shepard! Wake the fuck up! That’s an order!”

Still no response. Shepard knew a way to wake him up, and she lifted her hand to smack some literal sense into him. Looking at her hand, she realized she was still wearing her armored glove. It might wake him up, but it would also break his jaw, if not his face entirely. Thinking on her feet, she went for another tactic.

Moving quickly, Shepard reached forward, snatched Joker’s cap from his head, and smacked him across the face with it.

Joker’s muttering stopped, and his eyes widened at the impact. His eyes focused on the Commander, and he frowned. “Kick a man while he’s down? That’s cruel Commander. I don’t beat you with your shotgun when you don’t wake up in time for breakfast!”

The indignation of having his hat taken then smacked with it brought the captain back to his senses. He grabbed it back, smoothed down his hat hair, and tugged the cap back on.

Shepard regarded him with worry. “Are you ok, Joker?”

Joker swallowed and nodded. “Thanks, Commander, I needed that.”

“Happy to help. Actually kinda nice to be able to smack you.”

She helped him to his feet gently, but he still grimaced as his rib sent bolts of pain through his chest. “Thanks, Commander,” he said, but then his eyes grew wide. “C.O.’s hurt!” he said, and turned back towards the cat, whom had not moved.

Shepard looked at the little creature and was almost positive he was already dead. A raspy purr told her otherwise. “Mw……….rr.”

“Jesus….” She said in horror. She was about to hail her team when Miranda arrived.

Miranda was pissed. Despite having to run to catch up to Shepard she wasn’t even breathing hard. She crossed her arms at Joker. “You managed to lose our crew and almost the ship as well?”

“Yeah, I was there,” he snapped.

“Enough.” The two immediately ceased their argument. The cold look in Shepard’s eyes made them all uneasy.

If the Collector’s hadn’t pissed Shepard off as of yet, they had just signed their own death warrants.

Shepard pointed to C.O. “Miranda, I want you and Mordin to try and save him. I don’t care what you have to do.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. “Shepard. I know you like the cat, but we’ve got bigger things to worry about—“

Shepard took two steps and came about two inches from Miranda’s face. “I just lost my crew to this insect bastards. I’m not going to let them die in the hands of the Collectors. I’m not going to allow anyone to die on this mission. Not my crew. Not my team. A not even my fucking CAT!” Shepard snapped, actually making the Cerberus agent jump.

Miranda wanted to argue more, but from the look in the Commander’s face seemed to imply Shepard was probably about to snap, and so decided to do as the Commander said. She nodded, and walked to the cat, and created a small biotic field around him in order to move him up to the med lab without jostling him. The extent of the cat’s injuries were still
unknown.

“Everyone, head towards the mess hall. Mordin, I need you to help Miranda in the lap. We have injured coming up.” Shepard spoke quickly into her comm set.

“Understand, Shepard. Who was injured?”

“Joker and C.O.’s pretty beaten up,” she reported. There was a pause on the end of the line, but Mordin heard the serious urgency in her voice, and knew now was not the time to argue.

“Yes, Shepard. Awaiting patients.”

Another voice interrupted the team-wide comm link. “We volunteer to assist Operative Lawson and Professor Solus, Commander,” Legion said. “We have downloaded many bytes of information regarding the health, anatomy, and physiology of Earth felines. We can assist in C.O.’s treatment.”

“Go, Legion,” was all Shepard said. She went back and threw an arm around Joker, allowing him to lean on her as they hobbled up towards the medbay, following Miranda and the floating orb in front of her.

~*~

Legion and Mordin were waiting in the med-bay as Miranda appeared with C.O. The second the woman and cat passed the threshold of the door the three of them set to work in a flurry of activity.

Shepard helped Joker to the table in the mess hall where the others were waiting. She helped him sit as comfortably as possible in the notoriously uncomfortable chair. Joker hissed as his rib shifted and pain ripped through his again. “This sucks,” he said with a grimace. He looked around to see Jacob and Thane standing around looking unsure of what to do. Joker moved slightly to peer over Shepard’s shoulder.

“Uh, Commander? You must have knocked me one good. Why is Grunt engulfed in a blue ball? Is it like a hamster ball for Krogans?”

Shepard turned around to see that Grunt was indeed slumped in a chair, and engulfed in a biotic field. Samara and Jack were holding it up together.

“What is going on?” she asked.

Thane stepped forward. “I suggested this, Shepard. Grunt was angry, and was going to kill someone if he saw the condition of his friend. Before he even had a chance to follow you off the shuttle I knocked him out. Samara and Jack were able to transport him without injury. I didn’t want him to hurt himself or anyone else in his rage.”

Shepard nodded. “Good idea. Stand down, you two. Grunt’s gonna wake up eventually, might as well get to a safe distance.”

Samara nodded, and the biotic field died. Jack shook her hands. “He’s a heavy bastard,” she muttered, trying to get the feeling back into her hands.

Garrus arrived, and tossed a med kit at Shepard. “Ship’s clear. No sign of the Collectors.”

“Anyone left behind?” she asked as she pulled it open and removed some medi-gel and bandages.

Garrus pointed towards Joker. “You’re looking at him.” His eyes focused on the hustle of activity in the med-lab. Whatever the three were doing, they were trying their damnedest to save C.O.

“How bad was it?” he inquired.

“Bad. Hard to believe he’s still alive,” she said honestly, quietly. She looked at Joker. “I know I’m not Chakwas, but I can set ribs pretty easily. Take off your shirt,” she ordered.

“Can’t even buy a guy a drink first?” he joked. He looked around the room at Samara, Thane, and Jack. “Can the girls at least turn around?” he asked.

Samara nodded, but Jack rolled her eyes. “What a delicate little flower,” she muttered, but complied. Not feeling so embarrassed, Joker carefully pulled his shirt off. Shepard’s eyes widened at the muscle definition. Joker wasn’t ripped, but he was definitely built.

Joker ducked his head to hide the growing blush. “Sheesh Commander, if you’re going to stare, at least do it when your boyfriend isn’t around.”

Garrus chuckled when Shepard blushed slightly. Embarrassed humans were so cute.

“Sorry. I just never see you leave your seat,” Shepard explained, and kneeled down to apply the gel and wrap the bandage.

“I don’t sleep,” was all he simply said, and hissed as she set his rib.

The elevator opened, and Jacob and Tali arrived. “No other systems on the ship seem damaged, Commander,” Jacob reported as he saluted.

“By the homeland, C.O. caused that mess on that bridge?” Tali said in awe as they approached the table.

Garrus nodded. “Hard to believe something so fluffy could be so bad ass, isn’t it?”

“Not when the creature in questions was raised by Captain Smiley over there,” the pilot said, jerking his head in Grunt’s direction.

“How long is he going to stay out?” Garrus asked the assassin. Thane shrugged. “It depends on the person. A few minutes. Hours. I can’t say for sure.”

Jacob crossed his arms. “Commander, what are we going to do now?”

The only sound that could be heard was Shepard as she finished with Joker’s bandage and gave him back his shirt to pull over his hear. She straightened up and looked over her team.

“We’re going to get our crew. Then we’re going to take our collective boots and shove them right up the Collectors’ asses.”

Shepard started to pace, barking orders as she did so. “Garrus. You, Jacob, and Tali are going to make sure this ship is ready for a fight. Shields, weapons, engines. Everything that can be upgraded has to be. I want the Normandy to be over 100% in all systems when we hit that relay.”

She paused and looked at Joker. “You are going to work with EDI to upgrade and protect any computer systems. I will NOT accept another virus in this ship, understand? As soon as Legion is done helping Miranda and Mordin I will send him your way if you need him.”

Joker saluted. “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

The Commander paused to look over Thane, Samara, and Jack. “I want you three to help the tech team any way possible.”

She looked at her omni-tool and its time readout. “The crew was taken about an hour ago, which means the Collectors are an hour ahead of us to the Omega-3 relay. I want all the upgrades done in 2 hours time, people. At 1800 hours Joker will start for the relay, understand?”

Everyone looked at each other warily. That was a lot to ask for in 2 hours, but they would do it. There was no other choice.

Luckily, Shepard had used the Illusive Man’s money wisely, and had been regularly working with Jacob to update the Normandy. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be much work to do. Her team didn’t have to speak to understand they were readying themselves for a seemingly impossible mission. Suicide Mission, the IM liked to call it.

“It’s not suicide if we know what we’re going and are ready for it. No further questions? Then let’s get to work,” she said. Without minimal talk everyone made for the stairs and elevator, going about their tasks with efficiency.

Turning towards the medbay, she watched Miranda, Mordin, and Legion working. From what she could see, they were operating on his crushed leg, it seemed.

“SHEPARD!” Grunt yelled, snapping awake suddenly, making her jump. He hopped up, confused about his surroundings. “Where’s C.O.? Where’s my cat--?”

He looked up and stomped over to the glass and squished his snout against the glass. Luckily it was Plexiglas, otherwise he might have broken right through it with his snout.

“What are they doing? What happened?” he demanded. It was heart-wrenching to hear a quiver of panic in his questions. Grunt never panicked.

Shepard placed a hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. “He got in a fight with a Scion Husk saving Joker’s life. Now, they’re trying to save his.”

Grunt glanced at her. “A husk? The one with the cannon for an arm?”

Shepard nodded.

Grunt suddenly grinned like the proud father he was. “C.O. took one of those on and won? Haha! He’s got a quad after all. If he dies, he’ll die a true warrior,” the krogan said.

This about face startled the commander, but she wondered if he was putting on such a brave front so he wouldn’t be seen as weak.

“He’s defiantly a member of the squad,” she said quietly. After a few minutes, she stepped away. “Call me if his condition changes,” she told the young krogan.

Despite his bravado, Grunt never looked away from the scene before him, even as he nodded at her command. He was trying to hold it together. He was a Krogan, he shouldn’t be emotional over a cat. But C.O. was his charge, his krantt member, his friend. Watching the operation made his breathe hitch and his eyes cloudy.

“Don’t die,” was all he could whisper.

~*~

During the two hours everyone worked their asses off to make the ship as much an impenetrable fortress as possible, and Shepard continuously made rounds to offer assistance when
it was needed.

About half an hour before the self-imposed deadline, the comm in her ear clicked on. “Shepard, there’s been a development,” said the smooth accent. Shepard sat upright in her chair, having changed out of her battle armor to her casual wear. “What’s going on, Miranda?”

“It’s about C.O. You should come down ASAP,” was all she said before clicking off again.

“Oh, no. Oh, god, no,” Shepard moaned, racing towards the elevator. He’s dead. The stupid little cat is dead! Oh, God, Grunt’s gonna be crushed. Please, please, not this, not now!

Shepard raced out of the elevator doors before they were even open fully, and saw the lab door were open and Grunt was inside, head bowed, before the table were C.O. was lying.

She skidded to a stop at the entrance, and saw Miranda and Mordin cleaning up their tools.

“What’s going on?” she said stupidly, hoping beyond hope. “Is he--?”

Mordin answered. “Very difficult task, Shepard. Even with Legion’s access to any and all medical records pertaining to cat surgery still very difficult.”
“We did the best we could,” Miranda said with an apologetic tone.

Grunt looked up, and his eyes were glistening, but no tears fell. “I told you Shepard, he’s tougher than you thought.”

Shepard raced forward to see C.O. still hooked up to several machines, but his heart was still beating strongly, and his body shuddered with each breathe he took. Parts of his fur were shaved away, mostly on his front leg and underbelly. The line from the laser scalpel left hardly a mark though. With his fur a mess and lying so still, C.O. looked like a stuffed animal lying there instead.

She whirled around angrily. “Goddammit, Miranda, I thought he was dead!”

Miranda tilted her head defensively. “I never said he was! I just said the surgery was hard. And I wanted you to see him in person. Didn’t mean to make you think that.”

The Commander sighed, all of her pent up sorrow released the in angry outburst. “Sorry.”

Miranda waved it away. “It’s alright. We’re all a bit testy.”

Shepard turned back to look at C.O., and several changes made her eyes widen. “Miranda, is his leg glowing?”

“Yes. We just don’t have the necessary equipment to recreate the bone. It was too badly damaged to simply be cast, so I had to replace most of the skeletal structure with some cybernetics Legion was able to create. He should be able to walk within a few weeks, once he gets used to it.”

“And his lack of tail?” His long tail was now replaced by a bobbed tail only two inches long, and covered in bandages.

“It was broken completely off. Removal seemed least painful option,” Mordin explained. “Will be unsteady, but will recover. Broken ribs pierced organs, but was able to repair damage. C.O. will heal completely in a few weeks, provided mission tonight goes well.”

Shepard shook both their hands. “Thank you so much.” She looked about. “Where’s Legion?”

“We are here, Commander,” the robotic voice said from the entrance. There stood Legion, with C.O.’s cardboard box in tow. “C.O. must stay in the lab for observation.” He brought the box in, and laid it on the bed next to them. Reaching inside, he pulled out a red bra and a black one, and gently placed them around C.O.’s body like a soft barrier.

“Hey, that’s my--!” Miranda started, but turned away when everyone looked towards her. “Nevermind. He can have it, if it helps,” she said quietly.

Grunt looked at Legion, and nodded once. “Thanks,” was all the krogan said. He simple looked at the cat because he had been forbidden from touching him as he was still in stable but critical condition.

Miranda went into the meeting room to call upon the Illusive Man, and Mordin went back to his lab. Legion made his way towards the A.I. Core, leaving Shepard and Grunt alone

“Will you be okay?” she asked the krogan. He nodded. “Was never worried,” he lied. “Were you?”

Doing something she’d never done before, Shepard reached out and gave the krogan a one-armed hug around his chest, and quickly walked away. “Of course not,” she lied back.

“Shepard,” he called before she disappeared, making her pause. “Before, I was in this fight because it was a chance to prove myself. I wanted to fight these Collector’s to show I wasn’t
just all talk. I was behind you before Shepard. But now I’m going to fight beside you. They almost took C.O. Now they’ve made this personal.” He paused for affect, narrowing his eyes.
“So when I start cracking skulls don’t expect me to obey without question. I have my own reasons now.”

She nodded. “All I ask is that you stick with us, and we’ll defeat them together.”

Grunt’s eyes were icy and filled with a murderous rage. The Collectors had seriously fucked up…

~*~

“Seriously? He’s now Franken-kitty? Does he have little bolts in his neck too?” Joker asked.

Standing beside him, the Commander shook her head. “Your awful taste in movies notwithstanding—“

“Awful? That’s an Earth classic! Classic, I tell you!”

“You know, I think I preferred it when you just watched porn all night.”

“That’s just cruel, Commander,” the pilot said, moving around the floating icons before him. Now resting in his chair, his rib didn’t hurt so much, as proven by his light-hearted banter.
“But, seriously, cybernetics? In a cat? She’s definitely a mad genius.”

“I don’t care what she is. C.O.’s alive, and that’s all I care about. The fact that he has a robotic arm and paw will be interesting to see when he’s all healed up.”

“He’ll look like a reaper husk. A very small, fluffy husk.”

Shepard ignored his comment and tapped her ear piece. “Tech team, this is Shepard. Sit-rep?”

Jacob came over the line. “Armor ratings been improved to 114%, Commander. Whatever’s on the other side of the Relay won’t be able to get through these shields.”

“The cannon is ready, too. Was able to tweak the calibrations a bit. Accuracy and rate of fire improved beyond full capacity. Nothing will get close enough to hit our shields,” Garrus said
with a hint of pride.

Tali answered afterwards. “I was able to reroute a few energy reserves so the engine will have more speed, and there will be enough energy for one extra maneuver if necessary. I do hope Joker will be able to use that maneuver he described. What was it called again?”

“Crazy Ivan,” Joker said. “Hey, Tali, you like movies, right…?”

Shepard smacked him in the back of the head, cutting him off. “Alright crew. The Normandy is as good as she’s going to get. This isn’t just a suicide mission anymore, it’s a rescue. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose a single person to these Collector bastards. The ETA to the relay will be 2 hours. Make sure you’re ready for whatever is on the other side of the relay. And make sure you’ve made your peace without whatever Maker you believe in. Shepard out.”

She patted Joker’s shoulder. “Don’t give them another second of a head start,” she said.

Joker saluted. “Aye, ma’am!”

~*~

Garrus was already sitting on the bed when Shepard walked inside cabin, catching her by surprise. He was in his civilian clothes. The only time he seemed to wear them was in the comfort of the cabin.

“Wow, that was fast,” she said, coming to sit next to him. He grinned. “I was up here changing when you called over the comm,” he admitted.

Shepard smacked him playfully, but he caught her hand and pulled her into a deep kiss. Turians weren’t exactly made for kissing like humans were, but he thought he did pretty well at it considering he didn’t have lips.

After an intense moment and they broke apart, Shepard grinned. “She was able to save the damn cat.”

Garrus grinned. He liked C.O., and had been pretty worried about his survival. “That’s great news!”

“Yeah. She had to use some cybernetics to do it though.”

He shook his head. “I think she likes to make up excuses to implant those in people,” he chuckled.

Shepard rain a gently hand over his scars, suddenly serious. “She had a legitimate one for you,” she said quietly.

“Yes, Shepard, but I took a missile to the face. That’s pretty substantial damage.”

Without warning, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “I don’t care how she does it, I’m just glad she was able to save him. To save you.”

Garrus smiled, and rain a talon through her hair. He lifted her face gently with a claw and pulled their foreheads together. “Shepard,” he sighed. “If we only have a few hours left together, let’s not waste it with small talk, alright?”

“I love you, Garrus.”

“And I you, Shepard. Let me show you just how much.”

~*~

The steady beeps on the monitor were the most reassuring sounds Grunt had ever heard in his short life. Every beep was the beating of the tiny heart inside the small, fragile body.

No, not fragile. He took on a husk and lived. Barely, but lived. Next time, he won’t just survive, he’ll thrive. The thrill of the fight is now branded into his very bones.

Grunt’s rumbling changed pitch, and he continued to sing. He’d been singing ever since Shepard had left. He didn’t care that his throat hurt so bad, worse than a bullet wound it seemed. He didn’t care that he was stumbling over the words and their correct order like the shaman had taught him. C.O. was going to be healed.

Grunt’s rumbling chant came to an end when joker’s voice came over the PA system. “Omega-3 relay ahead! ETA 15 minutes. Everyone get ready!”

The krogan looked at his young charge, and grinned a deadly smile. “I’ll make sure to carve your name between their eyes!” he promised.

C.O. twitched once, and went back into a deep, painless sleep.

Chapter Text

~*~
Garrus turned his bright blue eyes across the shuttle towards Shepard, and noticed something interesting. It revealed just how in tune the turian was to Shepard when he could tell that, despite being on a flying shuttle with heavy turbulence, Shepard’s leg was jittering with nerves.

That worried the sniper, and understandably so. Shepard, nervous? It made him tighten his three-fingered grip around the barrel of his Mantis.

“Shepard,” he said over the whine of the shuttles twin engines. “What’s up?” he tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, as to not arose the suspicion of their other squad mate.

Liara lifted her head from her hands and gave the red-haired Commander a long stare. Blue eyes that once had shone with the light of curiosity and innocence had become hardened and bitter upon her becoming the Shadow Broker. “Commander?” she asked, following Garrus’ example.

He sighed. He’d almost forgotten who she had become. Liara was always suspicious, and constantly filing away any bits of written or spoken information in the back of her mind, to make notes on later in the mass collection of Shadow Broker Files.

Shepard looked at them both, and mentally berated herself. She was the Commander, she was supposed to be able to hide all twitches of doubt, glances of uncertainty, and be a pillar of strength for her crew and squad. To be read so easily by her crew members (even though one was her lover) made her sigh in annoyance.

“It’s nothing,” she said, trying to blow off their concern. Yet the two aliens continued to stare at the human until she became unbearably uncomfortable.

“Alright, look. You’re biotics have grown exponentially, there’s no question about it,” Shepard said, thinking how the asari youngster had been throwing Cerberus around like ragdolls in the previous missions. “And I’m glad to have you at my back, Liara. However, I’m used to have a Turian sharpshooter and Krogan muscle at my back. It feels….off. Especially since we’re heading to an area with possible rachni and other strange krogan.”

Liara nodded in understanding. “When we went after Saren, you always had Garrus and Wrex with you. And while working for the Illusive Man, you had the tank-bred Grunt with you. You work really well with Krogan, Shepard. It’s not an insult to me.”

“I think it might have something to do with the fact that she can head-butt with the best of them,” Garrus joked. Shepard touched the place on her head where she had head-butted the annoying Clan Weyrloc leader during Grunt’s Rite. Even after a year it still sent phantom pains through her noggin.

“It doesn’t make any sense, though,” Garrus said seriously. “The Rachni, I mean. We let that queen go with the promise she’d disappear and never come back. Why now?”

Shepard shrugged. “I don’t know. But I want everyone on their toes at all times.” She sighed. “Have to admit, I wouldn’t mind having Grunt here right about now….”

“Where is the tank-bred krogan anyway?” Liara asked. “I know Wrex is previously engaged, what with Eve and the unification of the Krogan.”

“Wrex said something about him gallivanting around the galaxy,” Shepard said with a wave of her hand. “He was very vague about the whole thing.”

“At least he and Wrex seem to get along. Well, as well as two adult male krogan in their prime and in the same clan can, anyway,” the turian replied. “At least they don’t have to battle over fertile females anymore—“

Suddenly, the shuttle slowed sharply, cutting off Garrus’ reply, and Cortez came over the radio. “We’re landing a hundred yards from Aralakh Company’s camp, Shepard.”

“Alright, everyone. I want your eyes and ears open at all times,” Shepard said to the aliens in question as they stood to exit the shuttle. Within a minute it had landed, and they filed out.

“Thanks. We might need a hot evac, so be ready when I call,” Shepard said to the pilot over her comm. Cortez nodded and waved at them before the shuttle took off.

“Anything involving you is gonna be hot, Shepard,” the pilot said with a faint grin. It was good to see him regaining his spirits.

As the three walked towards the pre-fab buildings of the Company, Shepard came over the hill to see several Krogan in black armor surrounding another, the one in charge. As she came closer, that light-gray and blue armor made her pause. “No way! Grunt?”

Grunt whipped around, and shouted jubilantly “SHEPARD!!” He came running at the small woman almost at full speed. Shepard had to do everything in her power to neither instinctually cower or dodge to the side.

Instead she made herself limp and Grunt hauled her up into a huge hug, almost turning every bone in her body into powder. The only things that saved her were her body armor and her cybernetic implants. When he set her down, she almost passed out from the sudden pressure change around her body.

“Grunt—good to--see you too--” she sputtered, trying to remember how to breathe. Grunt tiled his head at her, but didn’t seem to realize how close his elation had come to killing his former BattleMaster and friend.

Taking several deep breathes, she looked at Grunt, but her eyes jumped from the krogan’s gaze to the being perched on his shoulder.

And her jaw dropped open in utter shock.

“Spirits above, Grunt!” Shepard said, using Garrus’ usual swear. “What the hell happened to him?!”

“Hell, by the looks of it, if I have your mythology correct,” Garrus said, shock spread across his features just like the Commander. Even Liara looked surprised, but for different reasons.

“Um…what’s that on your shoulder?” the young asari queried.

“That’s C.O. but…..my god,” Shepard said simply.

“Mrow,” the cat answered, but it was not the enthusiastic mew of an excited youngster. It was the greeting of someone who was much, much older, a soldier who had lived through too many horrific battles.

The cat’s blue eyes mirrored the icy intensity of his krogan master. His gray fur had many larger and smaller white scratches on every inch of his body, scars that had gone down to the white skin underneath and removed fur along the way. His ears were tattered, nicks and chunks missing.

The leg that had been crushed in the attack with the husk was now larger than the others, and some synthetic muscle crossed over the skin. She wondered if the Geth-like design was from Legion’s involvement.

Shepard also saw his right front leg had veins of green light that pulsed and spider-webbed up his leg and across his ribs, just beneath the skin. Miranda’s cybernetics seemed to be in working order, despite the beating the rest of his body had endured. The Commander idly wondered if the whole “positive/negative thinking” think would have worked on the cat.

The cat’s stump of a tail swung back and forth, keeping his balance on the alien’s shoulder. “You poor thing….” Shepard said quietly, and reached out to scratch C.O. on the scruff of the neck. He tensed up for a few seconds, and looked like he was going to swipe at her hand, but kept calm. He even started to purr, a rusty sound. Seemed his throat wasn’t used to making the noise anymore.

She could feel the bumps of new and old scabs covering his skin, and also the grit of sand nestled into his coat. Even being a cat he’d probably appreciate a nice warm bath.

“Doesn’t look like Tuchanka was very nice to him,” Garrus observed. He certainly wasn’t as attached to the cat as Shepard, but seeing him in such a sorry state made him a little angry at
Grunt’s apparent lack of care.

Grunt looked at them, then chuckled. “No. It was C.O. who was not kind to Tuchanka.”

He walked past them, heading towards the buildings of the camp, causing the trio to follow after. The three soldiers followed him quickly, almost having to run to keep up with his long, determined stride.

As he passed by several Krogan in head-to-toe black armor, she saw with surprise that the krogan very subtly took a step back as he passed.

If they were one the side where C.O. was perched.

Nothing got past Garrus. He whispered into Shepard’s private link. “Damn, he wasn’t kidding. That krogan moved away from C.O.!”

The cat leapt from Grunt’s shoulder mid-stride, hitting the ground precariously next to the krogan’s large feet, and ran beside him. The Commander noticed the cat was a little less graceful that she remembered, but still fast. His tail stump flicked back and forth, keeping his balance as though the whole thing was still there.

Following closely behind, Shepard gazed upon the young krogan, taking in the similarities and differences from her usual mental picture.

It had been almost 10 months since she had turned in the Normandy and been grounded. Six months later, the Reapers had begun their galaxy wide invasion. The next four months she had spent collecting supplies, settling feuds, establishing alliances, and just kicking any Reaper created ass in her way. In that time Grunt had stayed the same, but had also changed.

She could have sworn the crests on his head were bigger, and his head-plate more solid. Scars dotted his face in a few places, marring his perfect skin. His eyes were the same bright blue, but these were filled with a ticking intelligence, instead of the look of a caged, angry animal like when he had first been born.

And obviously, there was his new position. “You’re in charge?” she asked, trying not to make it sound incredulous. Grunt tilted his head, and grinned.

“Learned from the best, didn’t I? Believe me Shepard, I earned this leadership.” He gestured to the Krogan behind him, and those working around the camp. “These Krogan are the best all the clans have to offer. I had to fight for this position, and I earned it with my own blood and sweat.”

“Glad to see it,” Garrus said, slapping him on the shoulder. “In this war, we can’t do anything half-assed and expect to come out alive.”

“Whatever you turians throw in, we’ll throw double,” Grunt replied. Such a statement would be filled with malice usually, but the two were old squad mates. Garrus simply chuckled.

“Oh, right. Dr. Liara T’Soni, this is Urdnot Grunt,” Shepard said, completely forgetting that Liara and Grunt had never actually met.

Grunt nodded at her once. “I can smell your biotics from here. Must be pretty powerful. Reminds me of the Justicar, Samara. Just make sure nothing happens to Shepard on your watch, got it?”

Liara took the veiled threat with grace and dignity. “Shepard saved my life many times. I owe her nothing less than my own.”

Garrus whispered over the private channel into Shepard’s ear. “I’d think he was a little unsure about not being at your back, too.”

“That’s nice,” the commander said quietly.

“Shepard! What do you know so far?” Grunt asked. Large krogan with all black armor watched the three newcomers follow their leader, but the masks made it impossible to know what they thought of the situation.

Shepard turned back towards Grunt. “Missing recon team, possible Rachni involvement. That’s the basic jist of it, right?”

He nodded. “Haven’t heard from the team in weeks. Wrex sent us here to find out the problem.”

He stopped in front of one of the buildings, the Command Post by the look of it. “We’ve got enough firepower to kill anything we might come across a hundred times over. The others have been waiting for an enemy to really get our blood boiling.” He leaned in close, and grinned. “I hope we find something a little more…volatile…than a broken satellite.”

Shepard nodded. Grunt matured, but he still liked his violence. Good to see he hadn’t completely changed.

She held up a hand to rein him in a bit. “If there are rachni, I want you to try and hold off just destroying them point blank. Self-defense is fine, but I don’t want to see a slaughter. I let the Queen go, with the promise she’d never come back. If we can, if we can get the rachni on our side….well, we’re in desperate need of allies in this war. Think we can try that?”

Grunt tilted his head, and studied Shepard carefully. “I’m not part of your squad anymore, Shepard. You have your team, and I have mine.”

This took the Commander back slightly. Did Grunt just politely tell her to mind her own business?

“You have a point, though. I’ll spread the word,” he said simply. “I, however, am in charge, so don’t expect me to drop everything at your first word, Shepard.”

Part of her was proud of his shouldering of such a heavy responsibility, and taking his duties seriously.

Part of her was annoyed at his arrogant behavior, especially since it was directed at her.

“Wouldn’t expect you too, Grunt. Just stay frosty,” she said, although it seemed her words had a cool edge in them.

“We have this handled. Anything you need to know?”

“Actually, yeah,” Shepard said, and pointed to the cat, who had not moved or meowed since greeting them. “What the hell did you do to him?”

When she had dropped Grunt off on the krogan home world, she had been forced to allow C.O. to go with him. She knew that if she had kept the cat aboard when she turned the Normandy over to the Alliance, they’d either adopt him out or euthanize the little cat. Shepard couldn’t bear the thought of that happening, so she had Grunt take his pet with him to his new home.

Call her a bleeding heart, but Shepard liked that stupid, mischievous little cat.

“Tuchanka’s not for the faint of heart, Shepard,” Grunt said. “Only the strong survive. Can’t do that without getting a few scars in the process.”

“He’s not a soldier, he’s a cat, Grunt!” she said hotly.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “I know him better than most. Do you really think he was going to stay the same after the Collectors, saving that ass of a pilot? He never let me out of his sight after that. Whether it’s for my protection or to ease his own paranoia about another attack I don’t know. All I know is that he tasted blood that day, and he’s had a taste for it since.”

“There’s no way Wrex would have let you take him on missions,” Garrus said it as a statement, but he was also asking, curiosity getting the best of the sniper.

Grunt looked at him and grinned. “He earned his name in Clan Urdnot, just like any other krogan must.”

He pointed to the dirty, stained dog tag still hanging from the cat’s neck. Shepard peered closer, and saw several scratches carved onto the once gleaming metal. What she thought was battle damage was actually letters, carved by hand.

URDNOT C.O.

“You’re kidding….” Shepard said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You didn’t make him fight a thresher, did you?” Garrus asked, jokingly.

The look from the krogan made him stop grinning. “He’s still alive, isn’t he? Besides, he proved himself, and became famous across the clans. I know you enjoy fetch quests Shepard,” he
said, grinning at her. “I’m sure the clans would pay well for some more tame felines….”

“Oh HELL No! I am not smuggling cats onto Tuchanka! Once we win this war with the Reapers, we’d have to deal with the krogan taking over the galaxy with personal attack cats?
There’s only so much madness I’m going to have a hand in!”

Grunt held up a hand. “Just joking, Shepard.”

Liara leaned into the krogan’s side. “Talk to me after this mission, Grunt. I can make such a transaction happen easily.”

“Don’t even try, Liara,” Shepard said. “Grunt, can we please get off the crazy wagon and back to this mission?”

“’Course. Follow me,” he said, and they made their way to the lip of a giant hole in the ground. It looked like all of the soldiers of Aralakh Company were waiting there for them to arrive, standing and milling around the cave’s entrance.

Shepard looked at the krogan, and felt herself tingle with excitement at the thought of an oncoming battle. “So, who wants to go into the dark, scary hole first?”

~*~

Machine gun fire belched around her, and she pressed her back harder into the short boulder that was serving as her pathetic excuse as a shelter until she could line up another shot at the rachni husks across the cavern.

“Exploding bomb-eggs, alien-bug webbing for decoration, rachni-reaper abominations trying to kill us….yes, we should definitely have our next shore leave here, Shepard,” Garrus said over the dying scream of a husk as he put a bullet in its head.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Garrus!” she huffed, “Damn bugs and their damn ambush!” Shepard snarled, leaning around to kneecap one of the rachni abominations. Even at the extreme range and small target, her aim was true. The giant balloon on spider legs toppled over, crippled.

“And falling into this hole without any krogan backup was, how do you humans say, the cherry on the cake?” Liara said, shooting over the barrier with one hand, while forcing a Cannibal to float helplessly in the air over the battle. Garrus ended its miserable existence with two shots to its multi-eyed face.

“We’ve got to be getting close! Just keep up the pressure and they’ll crack!”

Sensing a lull in the battle, Shepard dove from her cover and sprayed the area before her in assault rifle fire, dodging bullets and hungry human husks along the way. As one got too close she hauled back, and stabbed it with her omni-blade. The husk fell to the ground with a satisfying thud.

Finally, the last of the rachni and reaper forces fell dead, the sounds of the firefight echoing off the walls for a moment longer before fading away.

“Shepard!” Grunt called over the communicator. “You still alive?!”

“Yeah, you?”

“We’re fine. Krogan fight better when angry, anyway. You don’t show up soon there won’t be anything left for you to do.”

“On our way.”

She led them across the battlefield and over the broken, bleeding corpses of the enemy. Her skin crawled as they passed by the unholy combinations of alien-insect biology and reaper tech. She certainly wasn’t religious but there were some things that needed to be torn asunder.

Violently.

Finally, after passing through dead ends and large caverns, fighting on cliffs and in pools that seemed to glow with light, she came to an open area across from a cliff where Grunt and
his Company were doing battle.

She couldn’t help but hiss a cheer as she watched Grunt charge a Rachni, pick up the massive beast over his head, and throw it over the cliff edge. “I. AM. KROGAN!!” he roared at the top of his lungs.

One of the Krogans from Aralakh Company swung out from behind their cover, laying down a line of suppressing fire from a modified, full-auto Scimitar shotgun. Rachni burst apart in large, ichor filled explosions. At least, until two Cannibals worked to take him down with their own rifles.

It was then Shepard saw, with no small amount of surprise, the gray streak running across the ground, weaving his way in and out of the Reapers, causing them to trip, fall, or try to shoot him, distracting the enemy from the krogan and their bullets.

In those few seconds of battle did Shepard see that Grunt had not been wasting his time gallivanting across the galaxy with this Company, or while on Tuchanka. He had been working, steadily training the once mischievous kitten into a real soldier.

He whistled once, and Shepard saw C.O.’s demeanor changed. He went from distraction to destruction, running up the nearest Cannibal and clawing its eyes out without mercy, then running down its legs to trip the blinded creature. Afterwards, he did a backflip to tackle one of the baby rachni like a demented ball of yarn. Powerful kicks from his hind legs tore the thing to shreds.

The Commander had watched the recording of the cat’s fight with the husk on the Normandy. That had been raw power, inexperienced, protective of his friend. Now that power was channeled; he was obviously experienced at the distraction tactics and lightning fast attacks he was using now. Shepard was thoroughly impressed, but also saddened.

C.O. shouldn’t have been forced into this hellish fight.

None of them should have.

Gripping her gun angrily, Shepard ran past the exploding eggs and into the smaller room with the familiar Reaper claws protruding from the ground. Only a minute later did Grunt, C.O. and about 5 others from Aralakh Company enter, walking backwards and shooting the whole time. Silence finally filled the air as the last rachni died and the survivors retreated.

“Shepard! You still alive?” Grunt called. His armor was scuffed, and the familiar blue-black reaper blood stained parts of his white armor. A few cuts ran across his face, but nothing too serious.

“Yeah. Those damn rachni were doing their best from letting us down here,” she said.

“Damn reaper tech,” the krogan snarled, and leapt over the side of the cliff to land before her.

“Thank the Goddess those scouts thought to leave those flamethrowers for us,” Liara said. She was bent over, hands on her knees, getting a breath. Using her biotics so frequently in such a short amount of time was taking a toll on her.

C.O. ignored the two outfits and made his way over to a small puddle of water. After smelling it suspiciously, he sat down at the water’s edge and dipped his front paw into the cold liquid. He quickly began cleaning off the bits of blood and gore he had gained from his fighting, using the water in place of saliva. Whatever the reaper husks were made of, it was nothing C.O. wanted to taste.

Garrus watched this curious ritual, and shook his head in disbelief. He was not exceptionally familiar with the species, but he knew that C.O. was way too smart for a normal cat, sometimes.

Maybe he’s a genetically engineered cat? One with hyper intelligence, speed, and loyalty? Hm, I should run the idea past Shepard. If we survive this, of course.

Shepard reached for her pistol and shot once into the “palm” of the reaper “hand” that was sticking out of the ground before them. A shower of sparks flew, and the metal doors
leading into a smaller crack in the rock wall behind them opened.

C.O. appeared, much cleaner in just the few short minutes he had been away, and started rubbing his body up and down everyone’s legs, including the black-armored krogan. It was obvious they wanted to move away, but kept themselves still while C.O. marked them.

The normal cat behavior in such an alien place threw Shepard for a loop, but she leaned down to scratch the cat between the ears when he came to her. “Who’s a good cat? Who killed those husks like a little fuzzy badass? That’s right, you did!”

“Mroooow,” the cat purred contently, going so far as to stand on his hind legs in order to rub his face against her cheek.

Seemed that under all that fighting and training was a normal cat after all.

He moved on, wiggling around Garrus’ leg spurs a few extra times (making him jerk at the unexpected ticklish sensation).

Liara he rubbed on as well, before jumping onto Grunt’s outstretched arm and climbing up to his shoulder, his usual perch.

“He does this after every fight. Marks the survivors with his scent,” Grunt explained quickly. He shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

Shepard simply nodded. “What’s the plan, Grunt?”

He turned, watching her with one large, blue eye. “Aralakh Company stays here. We’re wounded, outnumbered, but not dead yet. Any enemy worth his blood will be regrouping, readying another attack. We keep them off your ass, and you find the nest. Find it, do what you have too, Shepard.”

“Alright.” She took a step towards the cave and then looked back. “And Grunt? Good luck.”

The krogan scoffed. “I don’t need luck. I have ammo.”

“Mrow.”

Grunt rolled his eyes. “And my cat.”

~*~

“Never thought I’d ever say this, but I really wish C.O. was with us,” Garrus grunted as he kicked his leg fiercely to dislodge the baby rachni thing trying to bite off his leg spur. He stomped it into the ground, ignoring the disgusting sensation of crunchy exoskeleton and squishy guts under his foot. “These little bastards are really, really annoying!”

Shepard found herself agreeing with him. As though the giant reaper/ rachni balloon cannons weren’t enough, there were plenty of Cannibals and husks trying to tear their faces off.

In the heat of battle, it was hard to remember to keep an eye on the ground as well.

They were trapped in a labyrinth of reaper tech and natural cave formations, and the rachni had the advantage of knowing the lay of the land. The three soldiers could only hope they were getting close to the central nest, and keep shooting until then.

Suddenly, the sounds of gunfire ceased. The Commander leaned out from behind her cover to see the rachni retreating once more, crawling into invisible cracks in the walls.

“Come on, we’ve got to be close,” she said, leading the charge forward. One of the reaper walls came down behind them, and they turned, guns ready for the ambush.

Instead, Shepard found herself craning her neck upwards to get a better look at the monstrous insect standing at least 40 feet above their heads.

Garrus whistled. “Damn, she grew fast.”

Liara stood with her mouth open in surprise. “I never knew rachni grew to such enormous proportions! It’s no wonder they almost took over the galaxy.”

The Queen looked down at them, her many eyes shining with a light of intelligence that Shepard recognized immediately. The same queen she had released on Noveria was all grown up.

The three of them saw movement on the ground near them, and they looked to see a krogan corpse open its mouth and start talking.

“The…sour note…has ceased!” he said, a puppet for the Queen to communicate to the non-rachni below her. “The silence…it is deafening.”

Looking upon the enormous creature, Shepard felt herself grow angry. “When I set you free on Noveria, you promised you’d disappear, never come back! Now you’re working for the reapers? Why?”

The queen moved, tossing her head and making strange, almost angry noises. The voice from the krogan, however, seemed to be pleading with the Commander. “We did not break our promise! We came to the other side of the relay, to live in peace, harmony. The music, it was right. The notes, they were right. All was right, until the machines came….”

The krogan shook, the angry from the telepathic queen almost tearing it asunder. “The machines came! Their shriek of sour notes drowned us out! Our children were stolen, forced to live in silence, in madness! We do not work for these machines!”

The Queen motioned towards another reaper “hand,” and Shepard saw it was enclosed tightly around one of the rachni’s legs, holding her.

“Free us, and we will fight!” she demanded. “We hate the machines. We will fight for our unborn children. Release us!”

The queen’s proclamation echoed around the cavern as Shepard began to pace, quickly weighing her options before the rachni husks appeared and killed them all. She looked up at the queen again, and knew in her heart what she had to do.

“Grunt, we found the nest. We have to release the queen,” she said, waiting for his reply. “I need you to come to our coordinates and lead us out!”

The sound of bullets filled her ear, as did the cries of both dying krogan and reapers. “Dammit, Shepard! Aralakh Company is finished without us!” There was a pause. “Damn you,

Shepard! We’re on our way.”

Her heart felt tight, as it always did when people died for her orders. She did not want Grunt’s wrath, but at the same time this war was too serious for emotional attachment to dictate action.

She strode past Garrus towards the shackle on the Queen. “Shepard. You’re sure?” he asked. He’d probably heard everything over his own link.

“She’s too valuable an asset to leave behind!” The Commander pulled her shotgun and blew the shackle apart, allowing the Queen to escape. She moved around, testing her leg and roaring her anguish and anger into the cave system.

A muffled blast of a heavy infantry gun blew a hole in a cave wall just a few feet from the squad. Grunt stood there as the dust and dirt landed on him, C.O. behind his legs. “Mrow!” the cat commanded. “Move!” he seemed to say.

Grunt’s eyes were angry, angry at having to leave his squad to die, to save one of the krogan’s oldest of enemies. In this war, there was no past. Only the future mattered.

Shepard, Garrus, and Liara followed after the krogan in silence down a maze of dark paths and tight corners. C.O. stayed several feet ahead of the group, silently trotting forward, his nose working overtime as he smelled for any trouble ahead.

The Commander’s nerves were jittery as she waited for a rachni or husk to appear, but none did. Not even the overgrown cockroach babies appeared underfoot.

After many, many minutes of furious hiking in the dark caves, C.O. stopped behind a wall and laid his body low, ears back and hissing silently ahead. He took a few steps backwards, bumping into Grunt’s shin.

The krogan slowly leaned forward, and saw several rachni/reaper cannons chittering amongst themselves. He turned back, towards Shepard’s squad.

“Shuttle’s down that path,” he said, motioning towards a branch that lead away from the rachni, shrouded in darkness. “We’ll hold them off. Get outta here, Shepard!”

The Commander stood before Grunt, a myriad of emotions causing her to pause. She’d never told anyone, not even Garrus, her true feelings towards Grunt.

She bonded with her squad mates, but Grunt was different. In many ways, she thought him her son, adopted, but a son nonetheless. She was there when he was “born.” She was there when he became recognized as an adult of Clan Urdnot. She even gave him C.O., and the silly cat’s misadventures had defiantly strengthened the bond she felt towards him.

It took all Shepard had to not order him to come with her.

It took all of her willpower to not hug him, or let loose the flood of tears that threatened.

Instead, she patted him on his armored shoulder and nodded, quickly turning to hide her face in case tears did fall, as to not embarrass him. She leaned down to stroke C.O.’s back one more time.

No words could express her feelings in that moment as she walked away from the strange duo.

Garrus shook Grunt’s hand with a vice-like grip, and Grunt returned the power, their animosity finally gone. The turian even scratched C.O.’s ears as he whispered goodbye.
Liara saluted before she made her way behind the others.

Grunt watched them, then looked down at C.O. The cat’s eyes were hard, ready for another fight.

The Krogan walked out, from his cover, and all the Ravagers turned their light-eyes towards him.

“My turn…hehe,” he said, and with a roar charged the creatures.

He ran right into the thick of the monsters. The shotgun rounds at point blank range devastated the rachni, leaving nothing but pools of glowing insides. Baby rachni jumped on his back, but he pulled one off and threw it into the gut of a walking cannon.

C.O. tackled the babies, leaping on their backs and shredding them apart with his claws and teeth. Screaming as though demonically possessed, he dispatched several of them in seconds.

The cat ran up to a large Ravager and attacked the large red balloon part, the liquid spilling out in a cascade. Turning and spinning, it tried to dislodge the cat but C.O. dug his claws in and ran up its front, slashing and biting at everything he could reach.

His gun was empty now, he used it like a club, beating the rachni back, but they began to overpower him. One of their sharp legs stabbed him in the bicep, the fiery pain not stopping him from tearing the leg off to shove it right through its light-eye, returning the favor.

The rachni piled on top of him, pushing him back towards the cliff. Grunt shoved back, gaining a little breathing room, but the rachni were larger, and stronger. Doesn’t matter if this is futile. Doesn’t matter if I die. One less rachni here means one less for Shepard later. I won’t fail you now, Shepard.

As the Ravager fell, the various wounds in its body causing it to bleed out, C.O. somersaulted onto another, attacking it fiercely, the reaper’s flesh giving way under his claws. His front right paw had not just been repaired by Miranda; she’d improved it. His claws had been strengthened by an organic metal alloy, allowing him to shred reaper hide like paper. Miranda might have been a bitch, but she was always thinking ahead.

If C.O. was going to be fighting husks, he’d better be damn good at it. The mutilated bodies of the baby bugs and the two large ravagers proved her engineering sound.

Grunt roared, and C.O. looked up to see the unthinkable. With a final push, he watched as the rachini forced Grunt over the cliff.

C.O. slashed the rachni in the eye and jumped down, bounding over the edge and looked down. Where was his master?!

“Mrow?!” he called. “MROW!!!” he stalked the edge, trying to find Grunt.

He was so busy trying to see where his master might have landed that he didn’t see the rachni babies coming up behind him in force.

~*~

When they finally exited the cave into the bright sunlight, the three of them had to pause to allow their eyes to adjust to the strong light after the dim darkness of the cave. It almost felt like they had awakened from a nightmare into reality, the light chasing away the bad thoughts of the rachni reapers.

Her chest contrasted again as Grunt crossed her mind, making her freeze. Grunt’s gone because of me.

Powerful claws gently grasped her shoulder, and Garrus’ two-toned voice flanged gently into her ear. “We have to keep moving. The reapers might have followed us up.”

She nodded, shoving her guilt into a closet so she could deal with it later. Most likely curled up in a ball on her bathroom floor, clutching a pillow as she cried into it.
“Cortez, we’re the last ones out,” she said into the comm. The shuttle was about sixty feet away, hovering and waiting for them.

“Copy that, Commander. Shuttle is waiting.”

Garrus and Liara boarded first, and despite Garrus’ real concern of them being followed Shepard couldn’t help but slow her steps.

A crunching noise behind her made her turn, hand to her pistol, but she shrieked in surprise.

From the mouth of the cave came Grunt. He was covered in multiple different colors of blood and gore, but hot damn he was still alive!

“Grunt!” Shepard ran full speed up to him, and hugged the krogan, not caring about who saw her or the blood he was covered in.

Grunt stumbled, almost falling to his knees and taking Shepard down with him, but he managed to catch himself. She slid under her large arm and propped him up to help lead him to the shuttle.

“Grunt! Where’s C.O.?” she asked. His eye focused on her, bleary from exhaustion and pain. He simply shook his head. He swallowed once and spoke.

“I will speak with Wrex back on Tuchanka. C.O. will have a place in the Hollow, were the most powerful krogan are buried. It is the most sacred place on Tuchanka. The new generations of krogan will know his name as they will know Wrex’s, and yours. He will never be forgotten.”

Grunt’s voice cracked at the last sentence.

Poor, poor, Grunt….Shepard wanted to do more than hug him and tell him it was ok to be upset. Losing a beloved pet is one of the hardest things a person can go through. But he was so exhausted her words would have no meaning now.

“I will visit him often, Grunt. That I promise.”

Garrus ran up to them, but instead of helping support Grunt on the other side, he ran past them.

Shepard craned her head backwards, but Grunt’s arm was in her way, blocking her sight. She heard an exclamation of surprise, and her guts twisted.

God, no, not more rachni!

Instead of the familiar chattering noises that would now haunt her dreams, all she heard were Garrus’ fast approaching footsteps.

“Hey, Grunt! I think you forgot something down there.”

Grunt and Shepard turned towards Garrus.

“Mmmmmmrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooww…………” called the pile of blood-encrusted fur that had followed Grunt out of the mouth of the cave.

Despite his exhaustion, his weakness, Grunt roared in happy surprise as he swept the cat out of Garrus’ arms into his own. Grunt snuggled his snout into C.O.’s side.

Clean streaks formed on his blood-covered face as tears flowed freely, sadness and grief replaced with relief and happiness.

C.O. was beat up pretty badly, but he’d lived to fight another day.

Shepard sighed, wiping away a few freed tears. She coughed, catching Grunt’s attention.

“Didn’t you know, Grunt? Cats have nine lives,” she said lightly. Grunt looked at her, then back at C.O., who was lying on his arm limply, exhausted but purring.

“Means we’ve got a couple left for this fight, then” the krogan said after doing a few calculations in his head. He glared at the fire-headed woman. “Make sure you use ‘em wisely, Shepard.”

“Of course.” She got under Grunt’s arm again just before he collapsed, and helped lead him back towards the shuttle. Garrus had C.O. in his arms, carefully to not jostle the poor thing.

“When we win this war, I’m going to buy you a lingerie shop to live in for the rest of your life. And you’ll have your own personal sushi chef to fix you the best fish for all your meals,” she promised C.O. The cat looked at her and mewed softly in agreement with this plan.

“Speaking of fish, got anything to eat?” Grunt asked hopefully.

The End

Chapter Text

**Zaeed is sharing war stories with Engineer Donnelly in a bar on Omega. Set during the 6 month-window between ME2 and ME**

 

“So, what’s yer craziest story?”

Zaeed opened his mouth, but Engineer Donnelly cut him off. “No, no, not that one! I’ve already heard all about that damn rifle’s exploits, and I’ve already heard all the gory merc stuff. I want the weirdest, the craziest thing that’s happened to you.”

There’s a gleam in the old merc’s good eye as he nods. “Alright, got the perfect one.”

Donnelly nods in approval and nurses his mug of imported beer as Zaeed gets into his story.

“So, there are, getting our asses handed to us by a crew of Batarian pirates. Their hideout is on fire, and Shepard is off doing whatever heroic deed of the day she needs to go do. Garrus, who’s usually attached to her hip, is getting swamped from automatic weapons fire.”

“I’m there behind a crate and trying to shoot enough of these bastards so Garrus can take a clean shot at the leader. As I’m laying down suppressive fire, I see a gray-streak across the battlefield, coming right at us.”

Donnelly groaned. “Oh, you’re kidding.”

“No!” Zaeed slammed his own mug down, sloshing some of the crappy beer onto the tabletop. “I barely have time to think about it when I feel something trying to crawl up my leg. Damn near pissed myself! I look down and literally freeze in the middle of the firefight because all I can think is: ‘Fuck me sideways, is that the Krogan’s cat? The hell is it doing here!’ Then I had to duck because I almost lost my goddamn head to a Batarian sniper round.”

Donnelly narrows his eyes. “You’re pulling my leg, merc.”

“If I’m lying, I’m cying; do you see any tears? Dunno how that little shithead got off the Normandy, but I realized at that moment that if we came back without ‘im...well, there wouldn’t be any worrying about the Collectors, Grunt would space us all.

“Finally, Shepard’s hauls her ass back and we’re able to make it to the shuttle. So, I scooped the little shithead up in my arms and hauled ass back to the shuttle.” He pointed to some scratches on his armor. “The little fucker was not amused.”

“Then...what?” Donnelly is hyperventilating over his beer.

“Then,” Zaeed was growling now. “Shepard and Garrus see me holding this spitting mad furball and told me I’d have to figure out a way to sneak him back on the ship without Grunt noticing!” He paused to shake his head.

“He was waiting at the airlock, like a Dad waiting to catch his daughter out past curfew. I thought I was dead. Shepard had to explain the little bastard had been a stowaway. Then, the Krogan comes up to me and grabs his little friend, and tells me if I had wanted to see the cat’s ‘battle prowess,’ I should have asked permission first!”

They look at their respective glasses for a moment, after their laughter calms down. “Still, gotta hand it to the little shit,” Zaeed said, with a note of respect in his voice. “He went after the Collectors and saved Joker’s crippled ass. I’ll drink to the little fucker, but if I never see that Krogan and his rabid mouser again, it’ll be too soon.”

They raised their glasses and clinked them in a toast.