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Art by the AMAZING Targarrus
As they entered the Newton system, the hail from Admiral Hackett didn't come as a surprise, but the mission specifics caught Shepard off guard.
Akuze.
The mission that she should have been on. She still had nightmares that she was there. She still wondered if she could have saved them all if she had been there.
And to top it off, former Alliance scientists meant a very specific thing at this point.
Cerberus.
Fists clenched at her sides as thoughts of Admiral Kohaku's body flashed in her mind, the cold rigidity of his corpse as she checked for a pulse. Shepard hesitated to think of the Admiral's final moments, but her brain supplied the mental imagery anyway, unwilling to be silenced. No one deserved to die like that. Not when he was trying so hard to find answers to questions he should not have been asked in the first place. The families of his crew deserved better. The Admiral deserved better.
The hollow victory that she was able to provide his body to the Alliance and closure to his wife and child was all she had to hold onto. But it wasn't enough. It never would be.
She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a soft sigh. Who knew what horrors awaited them this time? But whatever it was, it was her job to find out.
—
Garrus's blue eyes were fixed on his omnitool, mandibles twitching slightly in concentration as he read over new information from a contact. When Shepard's voice suddenly filled the cargo bay, calling the ground team over comms, his attention was quickly diverted. With a short affirmative, he switched off the orange display on his omnitool with a flick of his wrist and grabbed his sniper rifle, testing the weight of it in his hands.
Solid, almost comforting. Familiar in a way that settled something restless in his chest.
He never knew what they'd find out in the wilds once they stepped outside of the MAKO, but Garrus knew to be prepared for anything.
Afterall, he had to make sure nothing happened to the Commander.
The thought hit him hard, brow plates raising in surprise before lowering as he unraveled the thought.
That wasn't his job, and he knew it. He wasn't Shepard’s subordinate. He wasn't even in the Alliance. He had no official place on the ship beyond the space Shepard had carved out for him. He was there solely because of Saren. And because she needed his help to track the rogue Spectre down and stop him from unleashing untold horrors upon the galaxy, and to bring him the justice that Garrus knew he deserved.
Plus, she had Alliance Marines whose sole duty it was to watch her six. Soldiers whose job it was to make sure she came back in one piece.
But even with that knowledge, it didn't stop the tight, twisting unease he felt each time he watched Shepard run into harm's way, as if she had already run all of the numbers and decided the odds of her survival were good enough to take the risk. And it didn't stop the instinct that followed, yelling unbidden in his head, to track her position, cover her blind spots, and to make damn sure she made it back each and every time they left the Normandy.
At first, he told himself that it was simply admiration for her bravery, and well-earned respect. Anyone with sense would respect Commander Shepard. It was just logical. Shepard was.. exceptional.
The way she moved through combat as if she belonged there, adapted to every environment, and carried her command as if it were a role she was born to play. A deadly combination, all wrapped up into a killing machine.
And he was beginning to think there was more to his feelings than just reverence for the commander.
But that wasn't professional. It wasn't logical. She wasn't even a turian.
And yet…
Before he had time to pluck at the thought further, to tease out what other feelings were winding themselves up behind the keel of his chest, the elevator door slid up with a familiar hiss, and out stepped Shepard and Kaidan.
Garrus noticed instantly that the commander was a little stiffer than usual, her eyebrows drawn together in the middle and her expression thoughtful, if not pensive. He mentally thanked his time in C-Sec for helping him read human facial expressions with any accuracy. The way they were able to express so many emotions with just the tufts of hair above their eyes was impressive.
"Who does Hackett have us chasing down this time?" Garrus asked with a relaxed flick of his mandibles, trying to test the waters before they all climbed
into the somewhat cramped space of the MAKO together.
"Ex-Alliance scientists," Shepard said in a quiet huff as she shook her head. That was a good clue as to why she would be wound so tight. Her green eyes found his for a fraction of a second before she gave a small, almost dismissive shrug. That told him more than the words did.
As the support crew executed launch procedures, unclasping the MAKO from the cargo area, the shore team climbed aboard.
Garrus took his familiar seat at the guns, three-fingered hands testing the feel of the firing controls. Kaidan slid into his place at the navigation console while Shepard climbed into the driver's seat, hands settling on the controls with practiced ease. This was their natural rotation at this point. And Garrus felt a rare comfort in knowing exactly where he belonged.
Wherever Shepard needed him.
Crap.
—
The heat hit first, followed by a stifling wave of humidity that washed over them like a crashing tide. Garrus was used to heat, growing up on the sun-soaked plains of Palaven, but this was the kind of heat that clung to you, wrapping you up without any means of escape.
In the distance, electrical storms sparked across the sky.
—
"Watch your right flank, Shepard!" Garrus called out as a mercenary peeked out from behind a crate on Shepard's 4 o'clock. Before she could react, he had his sniper rifle up, knocking the merc down with a shot aimed perfectly at center mass, the man going down with little more than a strained cry.
With the room cleared she pressed the door controls, instantly bringing her assault rifle up again as the scene before them unfolded.
"I want the people who sent me to Akuze brought to justice."
Those words sent a cold chill down her spine, her eyes widening for a split second, and her breath catching in her chest before she slammed the mask down and schooled her face again. She couldn't betray how she was feeling, not in this moment. Not when a man held another at gunpoint. The fear
was evident in Corporal Toomb's voice, but it was frayed, tinged with anger. Shepard had seen this before, but now it hit too close to home.
"We were on Akuze when the thresher maws hit. My entire unit was wiped out."
Nearly every Alliance soldier with sufficient clearance knew what had happened to the unit on Akuze. Not a soul returned, a one-way trip for every
marine on the shuttle.
"…the scientists were studying them. They let them hit our unit, just to watch." Shepard knew he was reliving the moment as he recounted it, the subtle
twitch of his mouth and the way his eyes glossed over. He'd live with this pain the rest of his life. The images and experiences that were seared into his brain could likely rival the visions that danced behind her closed eyelids and woke her in a cold sweat multiple nights in a row. "I woke up in a holding cell. The scientists were delighted I had survived. Now they had someone to run tests on."
She was supposed to be on that mission. That could have been her. She had her bag packed and orders in hand when she was selected to attend the N7 program. Luck of the draw saved her.
But maybe she could have saved the unit on Akuze, just like she had saved the civilians on Elysium. But now wasn't the time to dwell on what she could or could not have done. Not with Toombs shakily aiming a pistol at the doctor's head.
She couldn’t change the past, but she could do something now.
"This man deserves to die, Shepard." He was toeing his way towards the edge, the point of no return. And she really couldn't blame him. But she also knew if he killed the doctor, then no one would ever face any real consequences for what happened to Toombs or his team.
"You're better than this, Toombs." Shepard urged, already seeing the war behind the corporal’s eyes.
The entire team deserved to be strung up to answer for their crimes, but having Dr. Wayne stand before the governing bodies would have to do.
Shepard wasn't sure justice would prevail here, but she couldn't watch Toombs spiral into a darkness he'd regret. A darkness he could not recover from.
—
Shepard watched as Dr. Wayne was escorted onto the Alliance vessel that had been dispatched to pick up both victim and perpetrator. The doctor complained of the restraints cutting into his wrists, and the Alliance marine simply ushered him along quicker in silence, diligent in his newfound role as jailer.
Toombs gave one final look back at Shepard and her squad as he ascended the ramp, hollowed eyes sweeping across the base where he had been held, and without a word, he disappeared into the airlock. She didn't know what life had in store for the corporal, but Shepard hoped that, by having him
spare Dr. Wayne's life, he would be better off.
At least this way, he didn't have to live with another man's blood on his hands.
—
Shepard was quiet as she dropped into the driver's seat, the tension in the MAKO thicker than before the drop. Garrus's mandibles tucked close as he scoured his brain for the right words, but nothing seemed worth breaking the silence, no matter how palpable it was.
So the silence stretched on.
The MAKO rumbled across Ontarom’s uneven terrain, tearing through the grassy plains and climbing jagged cliffs before Shepard sent the vehicle sailing off a steep drop, thrusters roaring to life just before impact to cushion their descent. Neither Garrus nor Kaidan commented on the maneuver, though under any other circumstances Kaidan probably would have muttered something about her driving. But after what they had just witnessed with Toombs,
the usual rhythm between them felt absent, swallowed whole by the weight Shepard carried back into the vehicle with her.
It was Kaidan who finally worked up the nerve to speak.
"Commander," his voice was barely audible over the roar of the engine, "there's a downed probe two klicks from here. We should check it out."
Shepard gave a slight nod, shifting in her seat slightly so he could give her the needed bearing and she was away. On another mission. As if nothing was different.
Not five minutes later the MAKO skidded to a halt, tires digging into the loamy soil, a spray of rich browns and green showering the area. The cabin hissed as the door hinged open, with Kaidan stepping out first, followed by Garrus and then Shepard.
Kaidan got to work, omnitool open as he kneeled by the probe, eyes darting across the readout, wiping away the beads of sweat that already dotted his brow so he could concentrate on the task at hand.
Garrus watched for a moment before he lifted his head to scan the horizon, checking for potential threats, as he told himself, but he knew, beneath that excuse, he was looking for Shepard.
He spotted her standing across the field, facing away from him, fiery red hair playing in the breeze. She was oddly still, especially in the face of such a threatening storm. Her arms were limp at her sides and her face was titled upwards, as if daring the storm to cross her. However, she was probably lost in thought.
Garrus watched from a distance, at first, as Shepard admired the angry roil of the growing force before them. The way the white peaks formed into castles of grey, soon blending into an ever-darkening expanse of sky.
A few minutes passed before Garrus finally plucked up the courage to make his way towards her, though stopping short for a moment. There was more tension in the air here than simply the building storm.
Garrus wondered if she knew what she did to people.
Shepard moved through the galaxy like a force of nature, and the capacity she held for both cruelty and kindness moved and terrified him. He had never met anyone else like her, human or turian.
He crossed the remaining space between them.
“Shepard.” She likely hadn’t heard his approaching footsteps, the sound masked by the whistle of wind through the swaying grasses and the rumble of thunder in the distance. As she turned to face him, green eyes meeting stark blue ones, lightning streaked across the sky. His heart rate quickened, and he could tell hers did as well, the vital sign clear in his visor’s display.
But he was too captured by the intensity in her eyes to mention it.
She was the storm. Building, powerful, intense.
“I.. Are you okay? I mean, do you need some time?” Garrus didn’t want to intrude on her solitude. With Kaidan otherwise occupied, salvaging parts of the downed probe, maybe he should have busied himself with something else, like checking on the MAKO’s suspension. And if Shepard needed time to process what had transpired with Corporal Toombs, he would leave her to her thoughts.
But he hoped she’d let him stay. Let him in, just a little bit. Because deep down, he wanted to know her. To not just look up to her, but to see eye to eye.
Be her equal.
He was drawn to her presence, her proximity. He admired her, and he had learned so much from her in the months he had been serving with her. But above all, she had taught him there was more to life than chasing the next target. Of course, at this moment they had a similar target, the whole crew did, but she had shown him how to appreciate the whole experience and not launch headlong into solving everything as quickly as possible.
“Do you ever think about what could have been? The what-ifs in life? Like, what if you had stayed in the military instead of joining C-Sec, or if you hadn’t been tasked with the Saren case?” Shepard's break from silence into her sudden line of questioning stunned him for a moment and Garrus blinked at her in slight surprise, not having expected to be thrown such a question.
What was Shepard thinking about that had her asking such questions? He took a half step closer, leaning his weight on one leg as he crossed his arms over his chest, eyes staring back up at the storm, not so far off in the distance as before, while he mulled the questions over. Though as the answer came to him and he swung his attention back over to her, he did not expect the open curiosity in Shepard’s gaze. It was as if she was eagerly awaiting his answer. Garrus wasn’t used to people being eager to listen to him speak.
“Ah.. yeah, I guess I think about it sometimes. I’ve thought about what my life would have been like if I had gone through Spectre training and selection. Where would I be? What would my life be like…” He paused, the weight of his thoughts crashing down on him like a sudden increase in gravity.
“But, Shepard, I don’t think too hard on those things. If I had taken any other paths in life, I wouldn’t be here right now,” He nearly blurted out ‘with you’ but managed to hold his tongue, “on a mission to save what may be the entire galaxy from this Reaper threat. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”
Finally, he had caught her by surprise. Subharmonics hummed slightly in smug delight. The lift of her brows and the fractional widening of her eyes was telling enough. He was getting good at reading human expressions, or perhaps just hers.
He wanted to ask why she was thinking about what-ifs. To see if she was dwelling on past regrets. A decision or call that didn’t go well, but before he could ask, she was changing the subject. He knew he was getting too close.
“Do you think we’ll catch him? Saren, I mean.” Her attention was back on the arcs of lightning streaking from cloud to cloud ahead of them. The storm was moving closer, and fast. “It feels like every time we get our feet underneath us, some new information drops us again.” Her voice was steady, but almost far off, and her lowered brows formed a crease between them.
“We’ll get him, Shepard.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Garrus watched another streak of lightning skitter between the clouds, the growing storm reflecting in Shepard’s eyes as she stared out across the plains. The minutes passed and before long the storm was rolling overhead, threatening to break at any moment.
“I remember the first time I ever saw a thunderstorm.” Shepard smiled faintly as she spoke, the expression more thoughtful than happy.
Garrus glanced toward her before looking back at the dark clouds gathering across the horizon. He knew Shepard hadn’t grown up on Earth. She’d spent most of her childhood aboard Alliance ships, drifting from posting to posting with her mother.
During one of their late-night talks in the cargo bay she had once described a storm that made her realize just how indifferent the galaxy could be. They had been passing Mars after a supply drop when a sudden coronal mass ejection rippled across the system, the eruption so abrupt that the weather officers hadn’t even caught it on LiDAR before it was already upon them. Shepard had told him the ship shook hard enough to make the crew think they were going to come apart at the seams, and all they could do was brace for impact and pray the shields held.
She had called space “beautiful, right up until it wanted you dead.”
But Earth storms were different.
“Boot camp in Macapá,” Shepard continued softly, eyes fixed on the distant flashes of lightning. Wind rolled across the plains in uneven gusts now, tugging loose strands of red hair across her face. “Storms rolled in almost every afternoon.”
Garrus listened quietly beside her as thunder rumbled low across the horizon.
“That first day, we were halfway through drills and suddenly the sky just…” She gestured vaguely upward, searching for the words before giving a quiet huff of amusement. “Opened.”
The corner of her mouth twitched faintly. “Everyone else hated it. I loved it.” Another crack of thunder echoed in the distance, closer this time. “It felt like home.”
Suddenly, the clouds broke, releasing a barrage of rain upon them. The droplets were slow to fall at first, but soon fat droplets began pelting them, landing upon her freckled cheeks and his silvery crest, and drenching them both within minutes.
"Commander!" Was the yell from the lieutenant as he peeked up the hill they stood upon, obviously not perturbed by the rain, but he held up his arm, omnitool glowing orange in the darkening sky. "RADAR is picking up hail! We should head back!"
Shepard had heard him, but she wasn't ready to come back to the surface just yet. She still faced the sky, the rain falling in force now across her face, eyes squeezing shut against the cool sensation. Wet hair clung to her skin as she drew in a deep breath, rain catching against her lashes.
When she finally opened her eyes, blinking rapidly against the rain, she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried. It was freeing, and she felt she was being washed clean of everything that had happened in the last few weeks.
The deaths she carried upon her shoulders, the blood staining her hands. She looked down, her palms faced up towards the falling sky, imagining blood streaking between her outstretched fingers and into the verdant grasses beneath their feet. It felt good to be cleansed.
Garrus watched her in calm silence, letting her have her moment before he reached out a hand to lay it on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Shepard?"
Feeling the touch on her shoulder, she looked over at the turian beside her, but she didn't pull away. They were friends at this point. Garrus had saved her life more than she could count. She smiled up at him, the rain drenching them like drowned pyjaks, and she couldn't help but laugh.
From where she stood now, watching the storm break around them on Ontarom, she felt a strange sense of peace.
And then Virmire happened.
She wished she were back on Ontarom, standing beneath the storm.
Maybe the rain could have washed away the grief deep lodged inside her, as heavy and immovable as a river stone while life rushed violently around it, swirling and pulling her back down into the cold depths.
The grief and anger only built as they were subsequently grounded, their mission ripped from her white-knuckled grasp, and out of her control. And if there was one thing she needed right now, it was some semblance of control. She was spiraling, barely staying above water as it was. How was she supposed to save the galaxy if she couldn't save Ashley? If she couldn't even save herself?
Garrus could see her struggling, her once thoughtful pauses now simply elongated silences, void of emotion. The soft skin beneath her eyes was a mottled blue and purple, and he knew with a bit of research that meant she hadn't been sleeping well. He wanted to ask so many questions: how she was sleeping, whether it was of good quality, and whether her caffeine intake was affecting her circadian rhythm. Since they were stuck on the Citadel, perhaps they could acquire a pill form of the human chemical called melatonin. He had read an article that informed him it was also non-habit-forming and all-natural.
Unfortunately, his extranet recommendations now seemed convinced he was a human insomniac. That would take time to fix.
When he caught her outside of the weapon lockers, looking like she was about to punch them after some personal slight, he abandoned his path to the mess and carefully approached her. She whipped around at the sound of his footsteps, green eyes ablaze with barely restrained anger. His mandibles flared slightly in surprise, taken aback by the intensity of her gaze.
Then, just as quickly, some of the fight seemed to leave her.
Shepard must have noticed, or rather understood he wasn't here to cause more harm because the tension in her shoulders eased and she slumped back against the lockers, anger settling into something more exhausted than volatile.
"Shepard.. I'm sure you can appeal this. You're under Alliance command after all, not the Council's."
She gave a tired shake of her head, hands running down her face before she rested her forearms on her knees, fingers curling and uncurling before she looked back up at Garrus. He seemed to tower over her, and for a moment she smiled. Garrus was checking up on her. Out of everyone, he was the one who was here to support her. How did it come to this?
"Official channels are closed. The Alliance won't undermine the Council." She let out the words with a heavy sigh and folded her arms on her knees before resting her chin on them, staring blankly across the deck. Frustration simmered beneath every word. Garrus could practically feel it radiating off her. Shepard had always been a person of action, someone who met impossible odds by throwing herself directly at them. Being forced to sit still while Saren continued moving unchecked had to feel like torture.
"So they're just going to stand by while the Reapers roll in?” Garrus leaned against the locker beside her. “Maybe we should grab a spot on top of the Presidium to watch them roll in. I’ve always wanted to go up there, and at least then we’ll have front row seats for the end of the galaxy."
A short laugh escaped her before she could stop it, and Garrus felt something loosen in his chest at the sound.
"I'm not going to just sit by and let them ignore their way to galactic destruction." There it was again. That stubborn fire that refused to burn out no matter how badly the galaxy tried to smother it. Shepard always looked at impossible odds like they were simply another obstacle waiting to be overcome.
"Go something up your sleeve, Shepard?" Brow plates lifted, mandibles flaring in a slight smile. "Who am I kidding? You always do."
"Come on, Garrus. We've got a galaxy to save." Shepard lifted her arm to him, and he grabbed it, three fingers wrapping around her forearm to heft her up. She was lighter than he had expected, despite her obvious muscle mass, easily pulling her to her feet, and for a brief moment she stood close enough that all of Garrus’s attention narrowed entirely onto her.
The way she looked directly at him when most people looked through him had a warmth coiling beneath his plates, and his eyes widened slightly before he cleared his throat, realizing just then that he was still holding her forearm, and releasing it with a slight shuffle backward out of her personal space.
Shepard’s smile widened just slightly at the awkwardness of it, though she said nothing.
Neither of them did.
There would be time to untangle whatever this was later.
—
She was a criminal now. She had stolen an Alliance ship, going against the direct orders of the Council. She was in hot water with more than one organization, and she knew it. But she didn't have the time to worry about all of that right now. She had to focus. They were hot on Saren's trail and she desperately hoped that they had the jump on him. She needed a bit of luck on her side at this point.
Shepard had her nose buried in a datapad, the blue glow illuminating her face in the dark quarters, when the door hissed open. Her attention swung to the entrance, blinking in the darkness, and surprise colored her features. Though what was more surprising than seeing him standing there was the sudden relief she felt when she realized who it was.
There was no one else she would have rather seen darken her doorway than him.
"Garrus," Shepard broke the silence for him, leaning back in her chair as she dropped the datapad back on the desk, "I figured you'd be crawling around under the MAKO making sure the driveshaft was fully calibrated." Her lips twitched up into a grin, able to make out the roll of his eyes in the dim lighting. "Get in here before someone sees you skulking around my door." She said with a playful shake of her head. She didn't really care what those under her command thought about the turian entering her quarters, but it seemed like Garrus needed some direction.
Garrus had had one hand braced against the doorframe, seemingly unsure of his own plan, but her light teasing and the 'command' had him stepping inside fully, the door closing with another hiss behind him. This was it, he was in the commander's quarters.
'Now what?'
"Talk to me, Garrus. I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet." She was good about giving someone an opening to talk - and she made him want to talk.
"I..uh," He brought a hand up to rub at his neck, eyes cast upward as if asking the Spirits for the courage to continue speaking, "didn't want you to spend the jump to Ilos alone."
And there it was, laid out between them. For better or for worse.
"Well, I guess it's a good thing I picked up a little something before we embarked on our mutinous adventure." Now, Shepard was pushing herself away from the desk and moving to the bed to reach under the mattress, lifting it with a soft grunt before pulling out a blue bottle of alcohol he only barely recognized as something he'd seen on the top shelf at Flux.
"Did you already have your pre-Ilos trip planned?" He let out a warm chuckle, stepping further inside and looking around her quarters as she managed to find two cups in a cabinet off to the side. The room was rather spartan in design and feel, but since Shepard never intended this to be her space, it made sense that there were no decorations or personal touches. She had been used to living in a bunk, so having this much room must have been overwhelming.
"No, but I figured if I was going to go completely off the rails and ruin my career, I was going to have some fun doing it." Their eyes met again, and Garrus wondered if she saw the way his brow plates raised in concern because she quickly followed it up with a softer statement. "But I also figured if we survived we'd need a way to celebrate."
She sat upon the edge of the bed, and he took up the chair at her desk, wheeling it out to face her as she passed him a cup of alcohol.
The silence stretched on for a moment as they enjoyed each other’s company and took sips of their drinks until finally Shepard spoke up, eyes on her cup at first before lifting back up to him.
"When I asked you if you had any what-ifs..” she paused, the weight of the unspoken words heavy between them before she finally continued. “I was thinking about what if I had been on Akuze, instead of away at N7 training. I was supposed to be there, on Akuze. I had orders for the mission but at the last minute a spot opened up for training and I was diverted. I could have taken Toomb's spot. I wonder if I could have saved them all."
And there it was, the thoughts that had gnawed at the back of Shepard’s mind for years now, laid bare between them.
It was slow, almost tentative, but Garrus reached across the space between them and laid a hand on her knee, squeezing slightly.
You would've tried," Garrus said quietly, “and that's what matters most."
Shepard's gaze dropped to the hand on her knee, then lifted back to him. There was something grounding about Garrus’s touch and his presence. In a galaxy that had suddenly gone sideways around her, he felt like the one thing she didn't have to question. She knew he’d always have her back.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup in her hand before she leaned back against the edge of the desk. "Doesn't stop me from thinking about it, though. Doesn't stop me from wondering if maybe I would've done something different."
Garrus was quiet for a moment, mandibles twitching faintly as he searched for the words, and struck Shepard then just how rare this was for him. Garrus always had something to say. A sharp observation. A sarcastic remark.
But not now. Now he was choosing his words carefully.
"You know," he finally said, "back on the Citadel, I used to think being good at my job meant never making mistakes. Never hesitating. Always taking the shot." His gaze drifted somewhere distant for a moment before settling back on her. "Then I met you."
She snorted softly. "And realized I make mistakes constantly?"
"No, well,” He gave a toothy grin, one she mirrored. “I realized you carry them anyway." His voice was lower now, the multi tones steadier. "Most people would've folded after Eden Prime. Or Feros. Or Virmire." His mandibles tightened slightly at that one. "But you keep moving forward… even when the cost is dear to you."
The room fell quiet again, save for the low hum of the Normandy around them.
Shepard looked down into the liquid in her cup before taking a slow drink. "You make me sound better than I really am." She spoke half into her cup, verdant eyes drifting up to meet him again.
"No," Garrus answered immediately. "Perhaps you just don’t see how great you are. You’re harder on yourself than you deserve."
Something in her expression softened then. Not the confident grin she wore for the crew. Not the fearless commander's mask she carried into every battle.
Just… Shepard.
Exhausted and still pushing forward harder than most people ever could, or would.
The corner of her mouth finally twitched upward. "Careful, Garrus. Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you actually like me." His mandibles flared slightly in amusement. "That would be unfortunate. I have a reputation to maintain."
She laughed then, quiet but genuine, and the sound seemed to ease some invisible tension in the room. Garrus felt himself relax along with it. He never expected to end up here. But if every decision he’d made in his life had somehow led to this moment, sitting with her like this, he knew he wouldn’t change a single one of them.
For a little while, they simply existed there together. Trading stories, finishing drinks far more expensive than their taste, and letting the looming shadow of Ilos stay outside the door for just a few hours longer. If just to pretend for a little while longer that the fate of the galaxy didn’t depend on them.
Then Joker's voice crackled over the intercom.
"Attention Normandy crew, we're approximately five minutes out from the Mu Relay. If you've got prayers, lucky charms, or unresolved emotional baggage, now's the time."
Shepard huffed a laugh under her breath and hauled herself up from her seat on the edge of the bed, setting the empty cup aside. Just like that, the moment dissolved and the Commander returned.
Duty always came calling. They both knew this too well.
She looked toward Garrus, meeting his gaze in the dim light. "Showtime."
He stood tall beside her, rolling his shoulders once before giving a small nod. "Just another impossible mission, right, Shepard?" He asked, a lopsided grin cast down to her.
"You got it," Shepard said as she moved toward the door, a familiar fire settling back into her expression. "Wouldn't want you getting bored."
The door hissed open, and together they stepped back into the Normandy's bright corridors, toward Ilos, Saren, and whatever waited for them on the other side of the Mu Relay.