Work Text:
Garrus was perched against the railing when Shepard stepped off the elevator to get to her cabin. She was clutching a badly damaged helmet to her chest, and she looked genuinely startled to see him there.
“Who told?” she asked.
“What happens if I tell you?” he teased.
She half smiled, but it was forced and didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You should be more concerned about what happens to you if you don’t,” she replied. Her voice was biting, but not angry.
“In that case,” Garrus began, as he pushed himself upright, “it was EDI.”
“That is not entirely true,” EDI chimed in. “Mr. Moreau’s exact words were, ‘somebody better tell Garrus…’”
“That'll be all, EDI,” Shepard said with the shake of her head. “Now turn off access to the comms in my room and don't bother me unless The Normandy is under attack.”
“Very well, Shepard,” came EDI’s clipped response.
“I’d like to point out that EDI was the one to rat Joker out, and not me.”
Another shake of the head and she opened the door to her quarters and walked in. When Garrus didn’t follow, she called over her shoulder, “Are you coming in? Or do I have to get the ‘why did you go to Alchera alone’ lecture in the hall?”
He stepped into her room and stood near the fish tank, taking in the space. There were a lot of additions to the SR2, but this wall of water had to be the least valuable among them. Above the desk where Shepard stood was a wall of model ships, with the SR1 front and center.
She knocked over a picture frame as she shifted all the items on the work surface to one side. Shepard didn’t bother to right the frame; she just began pulling handfuls of dog tags from the upturned helmet. He moved toward her and leaned against the wall. He waited patiently, silently while she detangled each set from the next and laid them across her desk.
“What was it like,” he finally asked.
“Desolate,” she responded, matter of factly; never ceasing her arranging. “The silence was deafening,” she added more quietly, as if talking to herself instead of him.
“You didn’t have to go alone,” he offered, gently.
She stopped then, and looked at him. He became very self-conscious, shifting his weight to stand up straight. He prepared himself to leave her alone, if she asked. But the corners of her mouth turned up into the slightest smile instead.
“I know,” she said simply before returning to her organization efforts. After a few more minutes, she tossed a pair to him. “Remember him?” she asked, pausing for his reaction.
He turned over the tags in his palm and read the name: Tucks, Carlton J. He smiled, “The eager, young requisitions officer. How could I forget?” He reached over to hand the tags back to Shepard. “He and Ash argued all the time over weapons. He’d rave about Ariake Technologies while she would go on and on about the superiority of Devlon Industries.”
Shepard snickered before Garrus continued. “There were times I thought they might actually draw weapons on each other.”
Now that she was finished with her task, he looked over all the tags that lay before him – 20 in all. He wasn’t aboard the Normandy when it happened, but he’d heard that most of the crew survived. However, seeing that many dog tags made 20 feel like a much bigger number than it was. He looked at Shepard as she stared at the reminders in front of her. Her face was surprisingly void of emotion which worried him. She had the look of someone lost in a bad memory.
She blinked rapidly quite a few times then turned over the helmet she remembered she was holding. It was a battered N7 helmet; he wondered if…. It must have been hers. It couldn’t have been easy to relive your own death. Shepard looked at the desk for someplace to put the helmet, but there was no room.
Walking around Garrus, she stepped down into the living area and found a space for the helmet near her nightstand. He followed her and stopped at the foot of the bed. He looked up at the blue glow of FTL as it cascaded over the picture window. Another unnecessary feature that seemed both calming and terrifying. He wondered how often Shepard fell asleep while stargazing.
“I used to hate that damn thing,” she said as she flopped onto the bed. He looked down to see her feet dangling just above the floor while she lay on her back, hands clasped together over her stomach. “Thought it was a cruel joke,” she continued, “that Cerberus would put something like that in my room when I had been spaced.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living, but don’t forget who brought you back?” He offered before he paused and looked at her, “Yea, that sounds like something Cerberus would do,” he finished.
This whole scenario seemed all too familiar, and those same feelings from a few years ago felt like they'd never left. Again he found himself alone with her in her quarters, wanting to touch her skin and run his fingers through her hair.
He didn’t speak up after Feros, but he’d be damned if he let another opportunity slip by. He sat on the bed next to her so that he was close enough to feel the heat emanating from her, but not so close that they were touching. Then he slowly lowered himself until he was resting on his back and elbows. They stayed this way for what felt like ages; just staring out into the void. And after some time, he’d finally mustered up the courage to confess.
“Shepard?” he gently called her name just as she spoke.
“Do you know what my last thought was before I went down with the Normandy?” she asked, suddenly.
How could he even fathom an answer to that question? There were a million things that could have been going through her mind at that moment. Had it been him, he’d have tried to replay where he went wrong; what he could have done better or faster.
“It should have been Garrus,” she supplied, interrupting his thoughts.
“Dying?” he asked, confused.
“No, of course not,” she said turning to face him. “That night before Ilos. It should have been you in my cabin instead of…” she trailed off, as if she couldn’t say his name. Not in this moment.
There was only one question between them now and they both knew it. Without having to ask, Shepard added, “I was scared.”
“Commander Shepard… Scared? That’s news,” he tried to lighten the mood.
“Not about the mission,” she clarified. “I was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way. And the last thing I wanted before we hit Ilos was to be rejected,” she shook her head.
Garrus sat up and Shepard followed. Had she just admitted to liking him when he had every intention of saying the same thing?
They sat on the bed, nervously looking at each other. There was something about her – had always been something about her – that pulled Garrus along. He tentatively raised a hand to her face and grabbed tendrils of her hair; gently rubbing the strands between his fingers.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he practically whispered before tucking the hair behind her ear. It was softer than he remembered.
“You know what I thought after I heard what happened?”
“Bet you were glad not to have been aboard,” she offered with a smile.
He ignored her comment and trailed a talon up her face and tapped her right eyebrow, “I always regretted not asking you how you got the scar that used to be here.”
He could see the tension fall from her shoulders like the relief of dropping a heavy pack. She smiled, genuinely, up at him and he couldn’t help but do the same.
Closing the distance between them, she cupped his face in her hands then lightly kissed his newly scarred mandible. She traced his blue colony markings with her thumbs, “Thanks for making me feel like I’m not alone in this galaxy.”