Work Text:
Garrus was at his normal post in the vehicle bay, tinkering with the Mako’s backend software. He knew it wasn’t intended to be edited, but Commander Shepard insisted on being the only one to drive the damn thing, and combined with her being what he conservatively estimated as the worst driver in the galaxy, he figured quietly adding an auto-stabilizer to the rover's steering wheel was in the Normandy crew’s best interest.
Besides, coding was a good excuse to get his mind off of his earlier embarrassment. Garrus cringed as the incident played itself over again in his head. Half his brain focused on pushing the scene down while the other half reviewed his work. As he did this, he walked around to the back of the Mako. He squeezed himself between it and the wall.
Wedged between two of the vehicle bay's support beams was a partially crushed teal and white cardboard box. Garrus shoved his tablet under his armpit and fished a hand into the box. He grimaced. Only two Tsilka bars left. He took one out, ripped off its wrapper, and took a large bite. He let the wrapper float down to the eighteen others on the floor. He told himself he'd get around to cleaning it up. Eventually.
He swallowed the first bite without thinking. A flash of annoyance shot through him. He had one and two-thirds of his protein bars left. He took a second, smaller bite. This time, he focused as he chewed. The bars were a blend of dried rigir meat and Palaveni fruits. They had a salty-sweet combination that reminded him of the meat pies his mom made for the holidays.
Ever since he had moved off his homeworld Palaven, he kept a box on hand in case he got homesick. They had gotten him through everything from boot camp during his compulsory service for the Hierarchy, to long nights as a C-Sec officer on the Citadel. But now, on a ship that spent most of its time in space, Tsilka bars were nigh-impossible to come by. He'd had the thought to ask Shepard if they could be added to the supply list, but as the lone turian on a crew of over fifty, it felt selfish. Instead, he silently hoped they'd happen across a turian store sooner than later.
With only one bar left, Garrus told himself he better not get homesick again for a while. But then the incident pushed to the forefront of his mind again, and he felt morose enough to kill the last one. He took another bite and let the memory replay in full.
That morning, the Normandy had docked at a small intergalactic port for a quick refuel and supply restock. In the all-hands meeting, Commander Shepard explained it was an in-and-out type of thing, so Lieutenant Alenko and Wrex were told to help her haggle and carry stuff, and everyone else was told to hang out on the ship. The orders had barely left Shepard's mouth when her omni-tool alerted her. She said she had to take a call and stepped out into the hallway.
As soon as she left, everyone began gossiping. It was a human ship, and Garrus knew he couldn't hold them to turian standards, but it never ceased to shock him. Chatting wasn't strange to him, but the biggest topic of conversation was. A lot of the crew seemed to revel in discussing Commander Shepard. They talked about her service history, whether she deserved the promotion to Commander of the Normandy, whether she'd stick around. It went against everything Garrus knew about military etiquette. Weren't they going to be reprimanded? Apparently not.
The humans often came back to an incident early in Shepard's career. From what Garrus had gathered, she had been pushed into a leadership position on the battlefield and had to make a call. She got a victory, but it was a pyrrhic one. She lost almost every soldier under her. After that, she became known as the Butcher of Torfan. Garrus felt the title was unfair. Leaders had to make tough decisions, and sometimes casualties couldn't be avoided. Shepard had won a victory for the Alliance; wasn’t that something to celebrate?
But the humans seemed to only deride her. Often cracking jokes about cozying up to her so they wouldn’t get labeled as canon fodder. Sometimes it got more crass. Butcher of Torfan became Bitch of Torfan, usually when Shepard insisted on thorough work without any shortcuts. Garrus was no stranger to complaining about a boss, but the level of vitriol didn’t match the Commander Shepard he knew.
Shepard was someone who did things. She carried a boundless momentum about her that drew Garrus in like a magnet. She was the first human Spectre, and she used the privilege well — she went anywhere and everywhere she pleased, amassing new allies along the way. The way she took on assignments and then promptly crossed them off her to-do list was breathtaking.
In contrast, Garrus's security job on the Citadel had been one dead end after another. Arrest some kids being drunk and disorderly? Oh, didn't you know? One of them's dad is Matriach So-And-So. Give them a warning. Catch a spree killer? Forensics mislabeled the evidence, so it’s lost forever. Sorry! Actually get a case in front of a judge? The criminal defense lawyer has a smile like an oil slick, and you can't figure out what their angle is going to be until it's too late and you're standing there with your thumb up your ass like an idiot.
So when Shepard approached Garrus saying she was looking into a suspected rogue Spectre, the same one he had been begging for just enough time to build a solid case against, he could have dropped to his knees and keened with relief. Finally, finally, someone who was willing to listen to him. And she was even willing to let him join her crew to help catch the guy! Garrus quit C-Sec then and there. Well, it wasn't a formal resignation. He just packed a bag, boarded the Normandy, and never looked back.
It had been worth it. Suddenly, Garrus was exploring parts of the galaxy he had never dreamed he'd see. And Shepard was the most interesting person he'd ever met.
Every time she'd drop down to the vehicle bay to talk to him and Wrex, Garrus felt like he'd either learned something new, or had been given a new perspective to chew on.
The first time he saw her outside her armor, he was a little shocked. Sure, he already knew she was short, but in her uniform, she was skin stretched across lean muscle, and not much else. She made up for her stature with intensity. The crew could say whatever they wanted when she wasn't around, but the moment she was in the room, she commanded respect. And if she didn't have your respect, she had your rapt attention.
That morning, the Normandy crew's attitude had been more of the same. As soon as Shepard left the room, they broke into jokes about giving Alenko and Wrex their final goodbyes. Alenko made an uncomfortable smile. Wrex remained aloof, ignoring the rabble.
Every new comment wriggled deeper under Garrus's skin. It wasn't right. Shepard didn't deserve their derision, and they would never risk saying any of it to her face. He decided to say something.
“You guys should be more respectful toward Commander Shepard.”
The crew went quiet as their beam of animosity lasered in on him. He steeled himself enough to say, “Regardless of her previous service history, she’s been a very effective leader on the Normandy. She makes a point to talk to everyone on the ship, regardless of rank or station. You should all appreciate that more.”
Retaliation was swift and merciless.
“Oh piss off, Vakarian.”
“We don’t tell you how the Hierarchy should do things.”
“Go back to C-Sec and let the big boys work. Fuckin' mall cop.”
Garrus looked to the other non-humans for support. Liara looked distressed, wringing her hands in her lap, but she wasn’t about to do anything. Tali pinched her three fingers together in a gesture that said, shut up. Wrex stared back at Garrus like he was a bug under a microscope. No hint of assistance.
Garrus withered. If he had been back in C-Sec, it would’ve been an even playing field. But he was a civilian on a military ship, and a hanger-on at that. He was little better than a stowaway. Who was he to tell them how to act? For the first time in his life, he felt like the alien in the room. He crossed his arms and focused on feeling his stomach doing backflips.
The room went silent. Shepard reappeared before the group. No one had heard her return. Her eyes darted from one soldier to the next, making sure everyone got their turn in the hot seat. She spoke loudly and with crisp enunciation, “I intend to be gone for two hours. During that time I expect you all to do your fucking jobs. Alenko. Wrex.”
The two rose and followed her out of the room. Nobody said a damn word. That didn't make Garrus feel any better, though. In fact, he felt like he just ostracized himself for no reason whatsoever.
Back behind the Mako, Garrus popped the last bite of Tsilka bar into his mouth. He thought as he chewed. This had been fun, but he had officially overstayed his welcome. That was it. The next time the Normandy looped back around to the Citadel, he'd thank Commander Shepard for letting him tag along, say goodbye, and go grovel for his old job back.
Decision made, Garrus swallowed and sighed. He got up, pulled out his tablet, and strolled back into the vehicle bay proper, fiddling with code as he did so.
“Vakarian.”
Garrus looked up to see Shepard standing a foot away from him, her large, dark eyes staring up at him with her usual intensity.
“AH!”
Garrus jumped out of his skin. His data pad clattered to the floor. There was a passing worry about its screen cracking, but that was quickly brushed aside as he was too focused on stopping the heart attack currently underway. He stooped to pick up his tablet, then froze. Did Shepard find out he was illegally editing the Mako code? Did she find out it was because he couldn’t stand another minute of her awful driving? Better to see what she knew before confessing anything. He kicked the evidence under the rover and rose with a nervous wheeze. He put his hands behind his back to hide their fidgeting.
"Do you need something, Commander?"
Shepard stared at him stock-still, eyes unblinking. For someone so short and wiry, she had an air of lethality, like at any moment she'd decide to strike.
A small box was gripped between her hands. She raised it slightly and said, "I heard you stick up for me earlier."
Her eyes vibrated in their sockets as if it was taking all of her willpower to maintain eye contact. She continued, "I know people talk behind my back. They're never going to stop, but I wanted to say, thanks for saying something." She shoved the box into Garrus's stomach.
His hands wrapped around it. The contents inside the thin cardboard made a crinkle noise. He looked down to see a familiar teal and white color scheme. It was a case of Tsilka bars.
“Oh!" He looked back up at Shepard, back down at the box, then back up at Shepard again. "I love these."
Shepard's mouth twitched. "Yeah, I know."
"How did you know they're my favorite?”
“You eat them a lot.” She tilted her chin toward the space over his shoulder. “And you have a wrapper pile growing behind the Mako.”
Garrus’s neck flushed. “Sorry…I didn’t think anybody’d notice.”
Shepard's eyes squinted in a smile. Something in her posture shifted, and her muscles loosened. “Nah, it’s cool. You’ll have to do something about them eventually though.”
Garrus gently placed the box on the floor next to the rear wheel of the Mako. He couldn’t tell if he was in trouble or not. “Of course. Uh. Thanks, Commander.”
“Alia.”
“I’m sorry?” Garrus flicked open his visor settings. Whatever she just said must have mistranslated.
“My first name. It’s Alia. You don’t have to call me Commander Shepard.”
That had to be a trap. On a turian ship, forgoing someone’s title got you a dressing down. Calling your superior by their first name? Forget it. The humans might have been more casual with their loose use of last names, but there was no way they referred to each other so familiarly. Garrus struggled for a tactful response.
“Do other people here call you Alia?”
Shepard grinned, her mouth jammed with teeth that overlapped each other in places. Regardless of the knowledge that she was doing the human version of a smile, Garrus still found it uncanny. Light glinted off her eyes, making them look like a microcosm of space. She looked scary. But something about that was also exciting. It made his heart speed up a little. Garrus watched her lips move with timid fascination as she said, “Not a single one.”