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Bright light filtered through the large windows of Shepard’s apartment, casting a neon glow across the room that somehow made the chaos within it feel almost domestic. Tali was curled up on the couch beside Garrus, her legs tucked beneath her as she excitedly flipped through the Fleet & Flotilla holo-menu like a child on a sugar rush. This was her favorite, even after all these years.
“Episode five, definitely,” she declared. “It’s the one where Bellicus almost breaks his oath to the Hierarchy to save Shalei during the sabotage on the docking ring. It’s practically mandatory viewing.”
“Didn’t they add a whole extra subplot just for that scene?” Garrus asked, lounging with a datapad in hand and a bemused smirk.
“Keelah,” Tali replied with a dreamy sigh. “They added the entire balcony kiss for dramatic tension. Which is also why it won Best Original Romance at the Interstellar Viewers’ Guild Awards.”
Steve Cortez chuckled from the armchair, nursing a beer and trying very hard to act casual.
Tali turned toward him. “Wait—Steve, you’ve seen episode five, right?”
Steve froze. “Uh…”
She narrowed her eyes. “You have seen it.”
“I mean… maybe. Once. Or twice.”
Garrus’s visor glinted in the light as he glanced up. “Careful, Cortez. That sounds suspiciously like the voice of a fan.”
“Do not make me quiz you,” Tali warned, sitting up straighter.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“What color was Shalei’s emergency mask trim during the shuttle explosion scene?”
“Blue,” Steve answered smoothly. “Standard deep-space reflective lining with an omni-tool interface, because her backup mask was destroyed in the fire suppression malfunction.”
Tali gasped. “He is one of us.”
“Please,” Steve muttered, setting down his glass. “You forget—my memory’s trained for tactical flight data. Unfortunately, it also includes Quarian romance dramas.”
“And you like it,” Tali sing-songed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t deny it,” Garrus pointed out.
The apartment door hissed open, and Jex stepped inside carrying takeout boxes of something grilled and probably far too spicy. “Alright, what did I miss?”
“Steve just admitted to being the galaxy’s most enthusiastic Fleet & Flotilla fan,” Garrus said without looking up.
Jex blinked. “What?”
Garrus leaned forward like a salarian before a juicy intel drop. “Please say you memorized the songs.”
Steve gave Jex a look. Help me .
Jex held up his hands, grinning. “Nope. You’re on your own, Fleet Boy.”
Steve sighed in defeat. “Fine. Yes. I memorized the songs—don’t judge.”
“Oh, no judgment,” Tali said sweetly. “I just think you should sing along .”
Which is exactly what they did. During the infamous duet on the Presidium balcony, Steve and Tali stood together, dramatically off-key, belting it out with gusto:
“Let the moon’s shining light hide two lovers with its rays…
Though I know that dawn will set us on course for separate ways…”
“I will hold this memory for all my living days…”
“Now unmasked, I feel your skin on miiiiine—”
Garrus had his mandibles half-covered in embarrassment. Jex was cackling so hard he nearly dropped his whiskey.
Garrus clapped slowly. “Bravo.”
“I take it back,” Shepard choked out, once he wiped the tears from his eyes. “This is a hostage situation.”
Tali tossed a pillow at him. “Oh, hush. It’s the best scene.”
On screen, Shalei and Bellicus stood on a balcony overlooking the Presidium. She turned slowly, mask glinting in the light of artificial stars.
Bellicus: But Shalei, we can never be together. I have my duty, and you have your people.
Shalei: Not tonight. Tonight, I am free as the dust in the solar wind.
Shalei: I want you to see behind this mask. I want you to see who I truly am.
Bellicus: I already have.
Shepard coughed. “Alright, that’s enough romance. We need something classic before you start crying glitter.”
He stalked over to the console and queued up something ancient, dramatic, and very, very him.
“I close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moment’s gone…”
“Oh no,” Steve groaned. “Is that—?”
“ Dust in the Wind ,” Shepard announced proudly. “Old Earth classic.”
Tali buried her masked face in Garrus’s shoulder. “Shepard, this is not a romantic ballad, this is a funeral dirge!”
“You can’t just derail Fleet & Flotilla with existential Kansas!” Garrus added, laughing.
Steve stood up, mock-serious. “This is an abuse of musical power, Commander. Stand down.”
“Nope.” Jex cranked the volume. “We’re embracing the bittersweet truth of all existence.”
Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Jex, I thought we were watching space rom-coms, not attending an interstellar funeral.”
“Dust in the wind… All we are is dust in the wind…”
Garrus leaned over and mock whispered, “Do we… Do we stop him?”
“Only if you want an existential crisis and a karaoke session,” Steve replied.
Shepard, eyes closed and hands dramatically outstretched, seemed to be channeling the full depth of the human condition.
Tali whispered, “Steve. Please. Save us.”
Jex, ever the dramatist, waved the music controller once more.
“Alright, fine. You want mood? I’ll give you mood. ”
A low acoustic guitar strummed. Then—
“Hello darkness, my old friend…”
The room fell utterly still. Even Garrus set down his drink and glared tactically.
Steve blinked. “Oh no. Oh no no no —not this.”
Tali whispered, “Oh Keelah, is he going full Simon and Garfunkel or Disturbed this time?”
Jex leaned back, letting the lyrics hang in the air like a funeral shroud.
“Because a vision softly creeping… left its seeds while I was sleeping…”
Garrus reached for a pillow in an attempt to wrap it around his head. “If this turns into a brooding monologue, I’m out.”
Steve took the remote and killed the music with surgical precision.
“Okay, Commander Melancholy. That’s your last DJ privilege for the night.”
Jex shrugged. “You’ll miss my genre range when it’s gone.”
Garrus snorted. “We’re still recovering from your ‘Gregorian Remix of Eye of the Tiger’ phase.”
Steve grinned. “Back to the musical space opera, please.”
Tali, very seriously, added, “And next time, if you want a dramatic existential spiral,
at least let us dress for it.
”
There was a moment of silence. Then Jex Shepard grinned. Slowly. Dangerously. “Say no more.”
***
Three days later…
Shepard had fully converted the lower lounge of his Citadel apartment. Blankets draped over furniture like cloaks. LED candles flickered like watchfires. A makeshift “Mount Doom” crafted from empty ryncol bottles smoldered in the corner. (Zaeed may or may not have added real fire. It was fine. Probably.)
Jex Shepard stood in the middle of it all, holding up a long coat and a cheap plastic sword.
“Welcome,” he declared with the self-importance of a Ring-bearer, “to Movie Marathon Madness: Middle-Earth Edition.”
“I swear to the spirits,” Garrus muttered, eyeing the elf ears Shepard tossed at him, “if you so much as suggest I’m Legolas—”
“You’re absolutely Legolas,” Shepard grinned, eyes twinkling. “I made you a bow and I’d love to see you surfboarding a shield down the stairs while killing Uruk-Hai.”
Tali, wrapped in shimmering silver fabric with a circlet perched over her hood, clapped. “I’m Arwen!”
“You’re on,” Garrus said with a smirk. “But since you decided to make me Legolas, you're Frodo. And Steve over here is—what—Samwise?”
Steve, setting up popcorn and graxen beside the mini-Mount Doom, raised a brow. “Are you implying I’d follow you to the ends of the galaxy, carry your emotionally constipated burdens, and drag your ass up a volcano?”
Jex smirked. “Am I wrong?”
Steve paused. “No. But I want a better cloak.”
Jack arrived, took one look at the robes, fake swords, and the opening credits rolling with full Quenya choir—and turned on her heel.
“Oh hell no,” she growled.
“You’re Eowyn!” Tali called sweetly. “You get to stab a Ringwraith in the face!”
Jack froze. Slowly turned back. “...Fine. But if I have to cry over a dying king, I get to punch someone in their Helm’s Deep.”
Garrus gestured at the couch where Ashley and Vega were already arguing over the One Ring replica.
“Oh, you’ll get your chance.”
***
As Frodo stepped into the Shire and the Shire theme swelled, there was a quiet reverence among them. Wrex grunted but stayed put.
“Shepard,” Wrex said. “You used to watch this back on Earth?”
“When I could find a working vid player,” Jex replied, his voice soft. “Back when I had to sleep with one eye open and my books wrapped in duct tape.”
Garrus looked over, expression unreadable. Tali gently squeezed Shepard’s arm.
When Gandalf fell from the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm while battling the Balrog, even Jack went still. “No way. He’s the badass. He can't—”
Ashley leaned forward, her brows furrowed. “He chose that fall.”
Wrex crossed his arms. “Krogan wouldn’t run. We’d die with the beast.”
Steve shook his head. “Sometimes sacrifice is the strength.”
And when Boromir died, whispering “My brother, my captain, my king,” the room was quiet. Vega blinked fast and muttered, “Damn. Didn’t expect that to hit so hard.”
Shepard stared at the screen, jaw tight.
“He tried to do everything right,” he said quietly. “Made one mistake, and still died a hero.”
Steve didn’t say anything—but he shifted closer.
Tali reached for Shepard’s hand without a word.
***
By Helm’s Deep, the room was leaning forward as one.
“This,” Garrus said, perched on the armrest, “is how you film a siege.”
“Where the hell are the Thanix cannons when you need 'em?” Vega groaned. “I’d hold that wall with a Valkyrie and five good marines.”
“I’d hold it with you,” Jack muttered, startling them both. Then added, “Don’t make it weird.”
When Gandalf crested the ridge with Éomer and the Riders of Rohan, the sun bursting behind them, Wrex let out a deep, low whistle.
“That’s how you arrive, human.”
Ashley nodded slowly. “When all seems lost… the cavalry charges in. Been there.”
Shepard didn’t say anything—but Steve noticed the way his hand clenched. A memory, maybe. Virmire. Earth. Take your pick.
***
Gimli and Legolas’s kill count rivalry escalated to the point where Vega and Garrus were actively heckling the screen.
“Thirty-four!” Vega crowed. “Beat that, Vakarian!”
“Please,” Garrus scoffed. “I could do that one-handed. Blindfolded. Without thermal clips.”
Tali giggled behind her mask, nearly choking on graxen.
But the mood turned solemn when Sam carried Frodo up Mount Doom.
Steve stared, arms crossed, but his voice cracked. “That’s what loyalty looks like.”
Jack nodded once. “Ride or die.”
And then came the coronation—Aragorn’s speech, the bow of all the races, the tearful goodbye.
“I’m not crying,” Garrus grumbled, absolutely crying. “It’s the—ventilation.”
Tali was curled up against him, tear-streaked behind her visor but smiling. “If Garrus doesn’t get me a dress like that, I’m calling off the wedding.”
Steve, with a half-eaten lembas cracker on his shirt, gave a slow nod. “Okay… you were right. That was epic.”
Shepard stood, hand over his heart as the credits rolled. “One ring to rule them all,” he intoned.
Jack lobbed a pillow at his head. “One more quote and I swear to God, Shepard.”
Garrus grinned through red-rimmed eyes. “Please tempt her, Frodo.”
Wrex grunted from his seat. “Next time, we watch Krogan Blood Trials. Less crying. More headbutts.”
“You cried,” Garrus accused.
“That was a war cry.”
***
Later, the room was quiet. Blankets tangled. Plates forgotten. Tali asleep with her head on Garrus’s shoulder. Jack snoring into a pillow. Steve sitting cross-legged, still humming the balcony duet under his breath.
Shepard stood at the window, looking out at the Citadel.
“For Frodo,” he whispered.
No one heard it but Wrex. And the old krogan just grunted.
“Damn right.”
The End