Garrus
Garrus had lost count of how long he had been sitting there, reports stacked in front of him, but his focus wasn’t on them. Not really. Every few minutes, his gaze flicked toward her.
Shepard had fallen asleep not long after they sat down, her exhaustion finally catching up to her the moment she let herself sit still. She hadn’t even argued about needing rest—which told him more than anything how much she had been pushing herself.
She was out cold now, curled on her side, breathing steady, face finally relaxed. It was one of the rare times he had ever seen her look… peaceful.
Garrus exhaled, his mandibles twitching slightly. It wasn’t enough. A few hours of sleep wasn’t going to fix this, wasn’t going to erase the weight of the Cipher or everything else she carried. But it was a start. And for now, he’d take it.
He rolled his shoulders, stretching slightly as he turned back to his work. If she was going to rest, he might as well make himself useful. He still had a stack of his own reports to go through—plus, Shepard’s desk was a mess. He skimmed a few scattered datapads, her notes on the mission, tactical assessments, half-drafted logs. He hadn’t meant to snoop, but the sheer amount of work she did on top of everything else was… staggering.
Does she ever stop?
He shook his head, setting down a datapad and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Then, he heard it.
The chime of her door.
His expression hardened instantly.
No.
Whoever it was, they were not waking her up.
He was on his feet in an instant, already moving before the second chime could sound. If they rang it again, he was going to shoot the damn panel. He reached the door, pressed the control, and stepped through the threshold before it had even fully opened.
The moment he saw who it was, his patience thinned even more.
Ashley.
She blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting him to be the one answering. That made two of them.
Her expression flickered, shifting between confusion, annoyance, and something sharper. Her gaze darted past him, scanning the room, no doubt looking for Shepard.
“Vakarian?” she asked, arms folding across her chest. “What the hell are you doing in the Commander’s quarters?”
Garrus kept his voice even, calm. “She’s asleep. Whatever this is, it can wait.”
Ashley’s stance stiffened. “She’s my Commander. If I need to talk to her, I’ll—”
Garrus stepped forward, cutting her off—not aggressively, just with enough presence to make it clear she wasn’t coming in. “I’ll let her know you came by when she wakes up.”
Ashley’s jaw tightened. “Since when do you get to decide when people talk to the Commander?”
Garrus exhaled slowly through his nose, keeping himself in check. “Since she can barely stand since leaving Feros. Since the Cipher nearly knocked her flat, and since I know for a fact that whatever you have to say can wait until morning.”
Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not your call.”
Garrus could see where this was going, and he wasn’t about to let her wake Shepard up just to make a point. His mandibles flicked, and he nodded toward the hallway. “Let’s take this outside.”
She hesitated, but after a beat, she stepped back. Garrus followed, the door sliding shut behind him.
Ashley exhaled sharply. “Look, I know you’re tight with the Commander, but that doesn’t mean you get to be her personal bodyguard. She’s in charge of this ship. She can decide for herself who she wants to talk to.”
“She did decide,” Garrus replied, crossing his arms. “She wants to rest.”
Ashley scoffed, shaking her head. “And I’m supposed to take your word on that?”
Garrus tilted his head slightly. “Would you prefer to wake her up just to ask if she wants to be woken up?”
That made her pause. Just for a second. He saw it—the flicker of doubt.
Then she squared her shoulders. “You have no rank here, Garrus. No real chain of command. You’re not Alliance. Hell, as far as I can tell, you answer to no one but her.”
“That’s right,” Garrus agreed without hesitation. “I answer to her. And if she wanted to see you, you’d be in there right now instead of standing in this hallway arguing with me.”
Ashley’s expression darkened, her frustration shifting into something sharper. This wasn’t just about Shepard. This was about how the Normandy was being run.
About how Garrus seemed to operate outside the chain of command—answering to no one but Shepard.
Ashley wasn’t used to that. She wasn’t used to watching aliens hold power over human operations.
“You just decide who gets access to the Commander now? What’s next, are you gonna start making calls on missions?”
“If she needs me to,” Garrus shot back without missing a beat.
Ashley opened her mouth, ready to fire back—
But then—
“If you two are quite finished.”
Both of them turned.
Dr. Chakwas.
Garrus felt some relief at the sight of her. She had the perfect mix of tired patience and authority, arms folded as she eyed them both.
Ashley opened her mouth to argue, but Chakwas raised a hand. Effortless authority.
“Commander Shepard needs rest,” Chakwas said pointedly, leveling a look at Ashley. “The level of brain activity she experienced after the beacon was excessive. She was unconscious for fifteen hours. That was one Prothean artifact. Now, she’s absorbed the knowledge of an entire civilization. If anything, I’d be surprised if she doesn’t wake up with a migraine that makes her wish I’ll just sedate her.”
Ashley’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Garrus could see the way her jaw clenched, the way she wasn’t arguing anymore but wasn’t happy about it either.
Chakwas’ expression softened slightly. “She’ll be awake soon enough, Gunnery Chief. If you have something urgent, you can bring it up then.”
Ashley exhaled sharply, glancing between them both before finally shaking her head.
“Fine.” Her voice was tight, controlled. “I’ll come back later.”
“Tomorrow.” Chakwas corrected.
Ashley turned briefly, nodding though her face made her disapproval plain.
She turned on her heel and stalked off.
Garrus watched her go, his mandibles flicking slightly. He wasn’t angry. But he knew this wouldn’t be the last time they were going to have this conversation. Or at least not the last time Shepard would need to have this conversation.
Chakwas let out a tired sigh. “You handled that well, Garrus.”
He let out a dry chuckle. “Did I?”
Chakwas gave him a look. “She’s frustrated. But she’s also wrong.”
Garrus didn’t respond right away. He just turned his gaze back toward Shepard’s door.
“She really is asleep?”
“Dead to the world,” Garrus confirmed. “And I intend to keep it that way.”
Chakwas gave him a knowing look. “Good. Make sure she stays that way for at least a few more hours. Best if she slept through the night.”
“Will do, Doc,” Garrus said quietly.
And with that, Chakwas turned, heading back toward the med bay.
Garrus let out a slow breath before stepping back inside, the door hissing shut behind him.
Shepard was still there. Still asleep.
He ran a hand down his face, then settled back into his seat, letting the tension slowly ease from his frame.
Ashley could be pissed at him all she wanted.
Shepard needed this.
And Garrus was damn sure he was going to make sure she got it.
Ashley
Ashley stalked away from Shepard’s quarters, her boots striking the deck with more force than necessary. She hadn’t expected to be stopped at the door. Not by him.
Garrus had answered like he belonged there, standing just inside the threshold like some kind of self-appointed gatekeeper. And when she’d tried to push past him, he’d made it clear—she’s asleep. You’re not waking her up.
Ashley swore under her breath, jaw tight. It wasn’t just that he had said no. It was the way he had said it. Calm. Unshaken. Like it wasn’t even up for discussion. Like he was the one calling the shots.
And the worst part? She hadn’t even gotten to say what she’d come to say.
Ashley exhaled sharply, forcing herself to slow her steps. She didn’t need to go stomping through the Normandy like some pissed-off recruit. But she needed to talk to someone. Not Garrus. Not someone who would shut her down before she even got a word out.
Kaidan.
Yeah. That made sense. He’d been on Eden Prime with her. He understood how things were supposed to work.
She turned on her heel, heading toward the bridge.
By the time she reached the bridge, her anger had cooled into something sharper—less heat, more steel. Get a second opinion, that’s all. See if I’m overreacting.
The bridge was quiet, save for the steady hum of the consoles. Kaidan was in his usual spot, assisting Joker at the co-pilot’s station, sifting through nav data. Joker, as always, had his feet propped up on the console, hands behind his head like he had all the time in the world.
Ashley stepped inside, moving toward Kaidan’s side. She kept her voice low, meant just for him. “You’re not gonna believe this.”
Kaidan glanced at her, reading the tension in her face before responding. “That bad?”
Ashley folded her arms. “Garrus. He was in Shepard’s quarters.”
Kaidan hummed, barely reacting, his attention still half on the controls. “And?”
Ashley frowned. “I tried to talk to the Commander, but he wouldn’t let me in. Just flat-out told me no, like I was some random ensign trying to bother her.”
Kaidan didn’t look particularly concerned. “Shepard sleeping?”
Ashley sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, but—”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Her arms dropped to her sides. “Are you serious?”
Kaidan shrugged. “She’s exhausted, Ash. If Garrus is making sure she stays that way instead of working herself into the ground, good.”
Ashley scowled. “That’s not the damn point.”
Kaidan didn’t argue, just let her talk. Ashley leaned in slightly, lowering her voice even more.
“You’ve seen how things are going. She’s letting the aliens run the ship. Tali, Garrus, even Wrex—what the hell is he even doing here? And now Garrus is just acting like he’s in charge?”
A snort came from across the bridge. “I mean… technically, he is.”
Ashley stiffened, turning to see Joker grinning at her, his eyes still on his console. “Excuse me?”
Joker didn’t even bother looking at her as he continued. “Oh, yeah. You didn’t know? Garrus is here under her direct Spectre authority. He’s not just some random C-Sec guy she picked up for funsies.”
Ashley narrowed her eyes. “…That doesn’t mean he outranks me.”
Joker turned in his chair so slowly it was almost mocking.
“Ash. Gunnery Chief.” He gestured vaguely toward her. “Lieutenant.” He pointed at Kaidan. “Flight Lieutenant.” He pointed at himself with a grin. “Turian C-Sec Officer directly under Shepard’s Spectre authority.” He spread his hands wide. “Not seeing a lot of wins for you here.”
Ashley’s jaw tightened. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Kaidan, who looked like he had just realized the exact same thing, let out a low chuckle. “…Huh.”
Ashley whipped her head toward him. “You’re laughing?”
He shrugged. “I mean… Joker’s technically right. Garrus being under Shepard’s Spectre authority? Yeah, that probably puts him above all of us.”
Ashley stared at him. “…You’re okay with that?”
Kaidan hesitated, then nodded. “It’s her call. Besides, think about it. If something happens to Shepard, who do you want making the calls? Pressly?”
Ashley opened her mouth to argue—then stopped. Because, really, when it came down to it, she didn’t have an answer.
Joker, of course, took the opportunity to twist the knife. “Cause I gotta say, I’d much rather have Garrus in charge if it came down to it. At least he’s got a sense of humor.”
Ashley’s jaw tightened. “…You’re both serious.”
Kaidan didn’t say anything, just gave her a quiet, thoughtful look. One that told her this wasn’t the fight she thought it was.
She clenched her fists, pushing off the bulkhead. “You know what? Forget it.”
She turned on her heel, leaving the bridge without another word.
Joker waited a beat, then smirked at Kaidan. “Five credits says she takes this to Pressly.”
Kaidan just shook his head, sighing. “…Not touching that bet.”
Ashley didn’t stop walking until she was well away from the bridge. Her frustration hadn’t disappeared, but it had shifted. Because this wasn’t just about Garrus anymore.
It was about Shepard.
And the sinking realization that, for the first time, Ashley didn’t know where she stood with her.
Shepard
She woke to the rich scent of coffee, warm and inviting, curling through the air like a quiet promise. For a moment, Shepard didn’t move. She just breathed it in, the comforting aroma grounding her, reminding her that she was in her quarters, that she had slept. More than she had in a long time.
Her eyes fluttered open. Dim lights cast soft shadows across the room, but what caught her attention was the neatly organized desk—cleared of the usual clutter of datapads she had meant to get through but never quite found the time for.
And sitting beside the now-pristine desk, a neat stack of sorted datapads in front of him, was Garrus Vakarian. He was scrolling through one, visor tilted down in concentration, but the moment she shifted under the blankets, his mandibles flicked. He glanced over.
“Morning, Jane,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth—an ease that hadn’t been there when they first met.
She groaned softly, rubbing a hand over her face. She still felt tired, but it was different. Less suffocating, less bone-deep. “Have you even slept?”
Garrus chuckled, setting the datapad down. “I did. It’s 0800 now.”
Shepard blinked. “That’s later than I usually—” She trailed off, suddenly realizing she didn’t actually remember when she fell asleep.
Garrus, apparently prepared for this moment, didn’t even hesitate. “1730,” he said, as if he had just been waiting for her to ask.
She stared at him. “I slept fifteen hours?”
“Which,” he added, mandibles twitching in what might have been amusement, “is about the same as you did after the beacon according to Chakwas. So, you know. Consistent.”
Shepard let her head flop back onto the pillow, exhaling through her nose. “Great. At least I’m predictable.”
Garrus stood, crossing the room without a word. She heard the familiar clink of ceramic, then the quiet pad of his boots against the floor. When she cracked one eye open, he was holding out a steaming cup of coffee.
She smirked as she pushed herself up to take it. “You know, it looks like you did all my work for me.”
He chuckled, sitting back down. “Not all of it. Just most.”
Shepard smirked over the rim of her cup. “You know, if I could hire you to do this all the time, maybe my paperwork would actually get done.”
Garrus tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. “You did hire me,” he said matter-of-factly. “Reassigned me under your command, in fact.”
Shepard blinked.
Damn. He had her there.
She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Guess that means I should get my credits’ worth, huh?”
Garrus chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You already do.”
Shepard lifted a brow. “Did you also track down Saren and save the galaxy while I was out?”
“If I could have, I would have done it in a heartbeat.”
The way he said it—without hesitation, without humor—caught her off guard.
She lowered her cup slightly, watching him. He meant it. He had spent the entire night here, keeping an eye on her, doing her work, making sure she had what she needed before she even woke up.
He’s worried about you.
She took another sip, the weight of exhaustion still lingering but lighter now. Less suffocating.
There was a pause—long enough to be comfortable, long enough for her to appreciate the moment.
Then Garrus shifted slightly. “There’s something you should know.”
She exhaled slowly. Of course there was. “What happened?”
“Ashley came looking for you last night.”
She lowered her cup. “What did she want?”
Garrus exhaled, clearly considering his words. “Not sure. By the time I answered, her focus had shifted. Chakwas had to get involved. By now, I’d say it’s about the Normandy’s chain of command.”
Shepard groaned, rubbing her temples. “Great.”
“It’s not bad, exactly,” Garrus continued, watching her closely. “But I figured you’d want to talk to her sooner rather than later.”
She let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I’ll go after I shower.”
Garrus nodded, satisfied.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Shepard took another sip of coffee, feeling the heat warm her from the inside out. Then, after a beat, she glanced over at him. He had done a hell of a lot for her.
“Thanks, Garrus,” she said quietly. “For everything.”
His mandibles flicked slightly. “Anytime, Shepard.”
She didn’t correct him this time. Didn’t remind him to call her Jane.
Because right now?
He was reminding her she was Commander Shepard.
And she had work to do.
Shepard
Shepard made her way down to the cargo bay, already certain of where she’d find Ashley. Sure enough, when the elevator doors slid open, the Gunnery Chief was at the workbench, focused on maintenance.
“Williams,” Shepard called out as she approached.
Ashley turned, visibly tensing for a fraction of a second before straightening up. “Commander.” Her voice was level, but not quite steady.
Shepard leaned against the workbench. “I heard you were looking for me. Nothing urgent, I hope?”
Ashley hesitated. “No, ma’am,” she admitted, though her stance betrayed some nerves. “I was just hoping to get a minute of your time. Off the record.”
Here we go.
Shepard folded her arms. “I keep an open-door policy,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Assuming I’m awake, that is. If you have concerns, lay them on me.”
Ashley shifted her weight. “Alright…” She glanced at the floor before meeting Shepard’s gaze. “I know things are different aboard the Normandy, but—” she hesitated again, clearly trying to pick her words. “I’m concerned about the aliens. Vakarian and Wrex. With all due respect, Commander, should they have full access to the ship?”
Shepard arched a brow. “Just the two of them specifically?”
Ashley didn’t answer right away, but Shepard caught the subtle clench of her jaw.
“Well, it’s just that this is the most advanced ship in the Alliance Navy,” Ashley continued, sidestepping the question. “I don’t think we should be giving them free rein to poke around vital systems. Engines. Sensors. Weapons.”
“Because they don’t report to the Alliance?” Shepard asked, more a statement than a question.
“Precisely,” Ashley said, almost like she was relieved Shepard understood her point. “We shouldn’t be putting Alliance secrets and classified information at risk of exposure.”
Shepard exhaled through her nose, already knowing where this was going. “Chief… do you know why the Normandy is the most advanced ship in the fleet?”
Ashley blinked. “Ma’am?”
“The turians,” Shepard said simply, watching as Ashley processed that. “The chief engineer of the Normandy was a turian. This entire ship was built from a joint project with the Council, and a turian was responsible for some of its key systems. I don’t think letting one poke around is quite the risk you believe it is.”
Ashley frowned but said nothing.
“And yes,” Shepard continued, “the exact specs on how to build it are classified. By the Alliance and the Council. So as for your specific concerns—Garrus reports to me directly. He was reassigned to the Normandy at my request, under my authority as a Council Spectre. And Wrex?” She chuckled, glancing toward the krogan at the far end of the bay. “He works for the Shadow Broker. If the Broker wanted classified intel on the Normandy, he’d already have it from higher levels of the Alliance or Turian Hierarchy. Wrex doesn’t need to steal it.”
Ashley’s mouth opened, clearly ready to argue, but then she shut it. Shepard saw it in her eyes—the moment she realized Shepard was probably right.
After a beat, Ashley exhaled.
Shepard gave her a moment before speaking again. “That it?”
Ashley hesitated. “I… actually… no, ma’am.”
Shepard inclined her head. “Go ahead.”
Ashley hesitated again, but when she spoke, her voice was more controlled. “I’m struggling to understand the chain of command aboard the Normandy.”
Shepard sighed. “Which part, exactly, Williams? Would you like a list of your superior officers?”
Ashley stiffened. “No, ma’am. A list won’t be necessary. I know my ranking within the Alliance personnel.” She paused. “It’s just—Vakarian was in your quarters last night. He wouldn’t let anyone see you. And it just seems like he shouldn’t have the authority to stop the crew from speaking to you.”
Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “He doesn’t have the authority to stop the crew from talking to me,” she said, but Ashley cut in before she could continue.
“That’s exactly what I—”
“No, Williams,” Shepard interrupted, her tone sharpening just enough to silence her. “What you tried to do was wake me up to bring me a non-urgent concern about aliens who have full clearance aboard this ship. In that moment, Garrus did have the right to tell you I was asleep and to ask you to come back later. Not due to any chain of command—simply because he knew something you didn’t.”
Ashley swallowed hard, but pressed forward. “That still doesn’t answer my question, Commander.” She squared her shoulders. “What is Vakarian’s actual role in the chain of command?”
Shepard exhaled, already suspecting where this had started. “Let me guess, you heard something?”
Ashley hesitated. “Umm, Joker implied that Vakarian outranks me.”
Shepard closed her eyes briefly. Dammit, Joker. She could already picture how that conversation went, and she was doing her best to suppress the smile that was threatening to cross her lips.
She crossed her arms. “Yes, Chief. Technically, he does.”
Ashley’s expression shifted. “How?”
“As I mentioned, he’s under my command as a Council Spectre,” Shepard said. “He reports directly to me and only me. So from your perspective, treat him as you would the XO.”
Ashley processed that in silence.
Shepard could tell she wasn’t happy about it—but at least now she understood.
Finally, Ashley nodded. “Understood, ma’am.”
Shepard relaxed a fraction. “Good. Then let’s focus on the real problem—finding Saren and stopping him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ashley replied, her voice neutral.
Shepard turned to leave, already thinking ahead to what was next. Ashley might still have opinions. Might still have her doubts.
But for now?
She understood.
Shepard
Just as Shepard turned to leave the cargo bay, the elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss. Garrus stepped out, moving with an urgency that immediately caught her attention. He wasn’t quite running, but his strides were purposeful, his eyes sharp.
“Jane, do you have a moment? I need to talk to you,” he said, his tone carrying a seriousness she didn’t often hear from him.
Shepard raised a brow. “Of course, Garrus. Did something happen in the last 30 minutes since I left you?” she quipped, hoping to lighten whatever this was.
Much to her relief, he let out a soft chuckle. “No. But I need to tell you a story—and then I need a favor.”
“In that order?” she teased, falling into step beside him as he led her toward an empty corner of the cargo bay.
Shepard didn’t often see Garrus unsettled. He was steady—quick to make a sarcastic remark when the tension was high, always prepared to fire off a well-placed shot in the heat of battle. But now? She could see something simmering just beneath the surface.
“Alright, I’m listening,” she said, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby crate.
Garrus exhaled sharply before launching into the story, his voice steady but laced with an old frustration that hadn’t dulled with time.
“A few years ago I was sent to investigate this salarian geneticist,” he began. “That case was a bit… disturbing.”
As he spoke, Shepard found herself drawn in—not just by the horror of what he was describing, but by the way it had clearly stuck with him. Years had passed, but the way he recounted it, she could tell he still carried the weight of it.
The black-market organ trade. The disturbing DNA matches. The victims who were nothing more than “walking, living test tubes.” The moment they’d almost had him—only for C-Sec to overrule Garrus’ order to shoot down Saleon’s ship, letting him escape with his hostages.
Garrus’ mandibles tightened. “All they had to do was disable that ship. Stop him from running. Maybe the hostages die, maybe they don’t. But at least we stop the bastard responsible for it all.”
Shepard met his gaze, watching the frustration in his eyes flicker into something harder.
“I mean,” he muttered, almost to himself. ” those hostages might be wishing they’d died by now anyway.”
There was a moment of silence between them. Shepard let it hang, giving him space. Then, finally—
“Since then, I’ve put out feelers every so often, trying to find him,” Garrus admitted. “And this morning, one of my contacts got back to me.”
Shepard straightened slightly. “You found him?”
He nodded. “He’s got a new ship. New name, too—calls himself Dr. Heart now. His idea of a joke, I guess.”
Shepard wrinkled her nose. “Charming.”
Garrus huffed. “Yeah, real funny. But that’s not all. My contact got me his transponder frequency.” He held up his omni-tool. “I want to check it out.”
Shepard studied him for a moment. She could already see it—how much this meant to him. How long he’d waited for another shot at this.
She reached out to take the information from his omni-tool, but then she just smirked at him.
“You know,” she said lightly, “you could’ve just taken this to Joker yourself. Apparently, he promoted you yesterday.”
Garrus tilted his head, blinking in confusion. “…What?”
Shepard grinned. “Ask Williams. She’s struggling to adjust to the Normandy’s ‘chain of command.’”
It took Garrus a second, but then he let out a low, amused chuckle. His mandibles twitched as he shook his head. “Great. That’s just what I need. A gunnery chief who’s already mad at me.”
Shepard shrugged. “Then let’s go straighten this out, shall we? I need to talk to Joker anyway.”
Garrus followed her into the elevator, giving her a side glance as the doors closed. “You’re enjoying this way too much, aren’t you?”
Shepard grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”
Garrus
As they stepped onto the cockpit, Joker was exactly where they expected—settled comfortably in his chair, boots up on the console in an unmistakable display of authority.
At the sound of their footsteps, he spun slightly in his seat. His eyes flicked between them before settling on Garrus, and the smirk that stretched across his face told Shepard everything she needed to know.
“Oh, this I gotta hear,” Joker drawled, leaning forward as he propped his elbows on his knees. “I take it you heard about your promotion?”
Garrus crossed his arms. “That’s why we’re here. Mind telling me exactly what I was promoted to?”
Joker feigned surprise. “Oh, you didn’t know? Man, you should really check your inbox more often.”
Shepard shook her head, amused. “Joker.”
Joker held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Look, all I did was answer a question. Williams was all worked up last night about how you seem to be calling the shots when Shepard’s out, so I told her the truth—she put you in charge. Which, you know, technically makes you second-in-command.”
Garrus exhaled sharply, glancing toward Shepard. “Oh? Is that how this works?”
Shepard smirked, her arms still loosely crossed. “Well, I guess our stories match then.”
Joker and Garrus both went dead silent.
Shepard didn’t move. Just kept her smirk, watching the stunned looks on their faces. That fraction of a second where they were both processing what she had just confirmed.
Then, casually, as if she hadn’t just thrown that bomb at them, she leaned against the angled housing beside Joker’s station and shifted her gaze to Garrus.
“So, Garrus… where are we going?” she asked, all ease and amusement, as if she hadn’t just shattered both their expectations and left them scrambling to keep up.
Garrus blinked, then huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. The transponder.” He turned to Joker, arms crossing again. “We got a signal to track.”
Joker let out a breath, shaking his head as he turned back to his console. “Yeah, yeah, let’s see where this bad boy is hiding.” His fingers moved over the controls, muttering to himself as he ran a scan.
A few seconds passed, then his brows lifted. “Huh. Would you look at that? Kepler Verge, Herschel system—if my readings are right.” He turned his chair slightly toward them. “That’s not even that far.”
Shepard pushed off the wall. “Would you look at that, Garrus. It’s like it was meant to be.”
Garrus snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
Shepard ignored him, turning her attention back to Joker. “Set a course.”
She turned to walk away, stopping briefly at the edge of the cockpit, “Oh, and Joker? Can you give me a heads up before you decide to promote someone next time?”
She didn’t wait for a response continued walking down the corridor, confident and assured as ever, leaving them both staring after her.
After a long pause, Joker exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, she totally did that on purpose.”
Garrus was still watching her as she walked through the CIC, a slow chuckle rising in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, she did.”
Shepard
When they boarded Dr. Saleon’s ship, Shepard expected something unsettling. What they got was worse.
The ship was too quiet. Not just the absence of sound, but a void—like this place had never known life. The air smelled wrong, a mix of sterilization chemicals and something more organic, something that made her gut churn.
Then, the cargo doors opened. And the things rushed them. Shepard barely had time to react before she was shooting. At what, exactly, she wasn’t sure.
Emaciated bodies, half-decomposed yet moving too fast, lurched toward them. Skin stretched taut over jagged bone, mouths twisted into grotesque parodies of expressions. Their eyes—if they had any left—were vacant pits.
Her gut twisted.
“Spirits…” Garrus exhaled sharply, his voice tight. “What is this?”
Another creature lunged at them. Garrus put a round through its skull.
Shepard’s rifle was already up, her sights locking onto another. “Garrus?”
His voice came clipped, distant. “Looks like Saleon’s moved on from just cloning organs.”
What the hell was he doing here? Shepard barely had time to process before another rushed them.
“At least they go down easy.” Wrex sounded almost amused.
Shepard exhaled through gritted teeth. They weren’t difficult to kill, but that wasn’t the problem. It was the implication. Whatever Dr. Saleon had started doing before—this was the next step.
They pushed forward, clearing the remaining creatures as they moved through the ship. The silence that followed was worse than the fight. The bodies they left behind weren’t corpses. They were subjects.
Shepard wasn’t sure what word fit. Zombies? No, that wasn’t right. Victims? That felt closer.
Finally, they reached a small storage bay. Shepard pushed the door panel, and it slid open. A salarian cowered inside.
“Thank you,” the man gasped, relief breaking across his face. “Thank you for saving me from those—those things.”
Shepard took a step forward, but Garrus was already moving. His rifle was up, not aimed, but close enough.
“That’s him,” Garrus said, his voice cold with satisfaction. “That’s Dr. Saleon.”
The salarian stiffened. His hands twitched at his sides.
“What?” He forced out a laugh, too sharp, too nervous. “No, no, you must be mistaken. My name is Heart. Dr. Heart. Please, just—get me off this ship.”
Shepard crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Dr. Heart, huh?”
“His idea of a joke,” Garrus muttered.
Shepard exhaled through her nose. “Well, don’t worry, Doctor. We’re getting you off this ship.”
“Oh, thank you—”
“In a body bag,” Garrus finished for her.
Saleon’s whole body went rigid. “Wait. What? No—I—”
“There’s no escape this time,” Garrus said, his voice dangerously low. “I’d harvest your organs first, but we don’t have the time.”
Saleon paled, horror settling over his face. “You’re insane. He’s insane!” He turned his pleading eyes to Shepard. “Please—don’t let him do this to me!”
Shepard let him stammer for a moment, then exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face. “You know,” she muttered, “I’d have a lot more sympathy if I hadn’t just watched what you do to people.”
Saleon swallowed hard.
She glanced toward Garrus. He was tense, a barely contained storm waiting to unleash. “We’re taking him in,” she said, her voice firm. “We hand him over to the Alliance.”
Garrus’ mandibles flexed, his rifle shifting slightly. “Jane—”
“I know,” she said, softer. “But if he’s dead, we never learn what he’s been up to. We don’t learn how he did this.”
Garrus’ jaw clenched. He exhaled sharply through his nose. Then, finally, he stepped back.
“You’re a very lucky salarian,” he bit out. “You owe the Commander your life.”
Wrex grunted. “I got him.”
Saleon barely had time to flinch before Wrex’s massive hand closed around his arm.
Then Saleon snapped.
With a cry, he wrenched free, pulling a pistol from somewhere in his coat. A single shot rang out.
It fizzled against Shepard’s shields.
A heartbeat later, Wrex slammed his fist into Saleon’s face. Saleon crumpled like a ragdoll. The silence that followed was almost comical.
“…How,” Shepard muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose, “did he think that was going to work?”
Wrex hoisted the unconscious salarian over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Smartest minds in the galaxy,” he grunted. “No survival instincts.”
Shepard sighed. “Joker, tell the Fifth Fleet we have a prisoner for pickup.”
Then, shaking her head, she turned toward Garrus.
And found him still watching Saleon, something unreadable in his expression.
It wasn’t satisfaction. Not exactly. It was something heavier. Something unfinished.
Shepard exhaled. Later. Right now, she had a prisoner to turn in.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Garrus
When they got back aboard the Normandy, Shepard went straight to her quarters to get cleaned up.
Garrus, meanwhile, tried to distract himself by working on the Mako, but his thoughts kept circling back to Dr. Saleon. To the fear that he’d escape, or worse, that someone would let him escape. But turning him over to the Alliance Navy minimized that risk—Saleon wouldn’t have the same connections there, and it was obvious he’d been experimenting on humans as well. That alone guaranteed the Alliance wouldn’t let him go. And being arrested by a Spectre? No one would interfere with that.
Maybe it would be fine. Maybe. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He needed to talk to Shepard.
Pressing the chime to her quarters, he waited.
“Come in,” Shepard called.
The door slid open. And suddenly, he had no idea what to do with himself.
She was standing there, wearing nothing but a towel, her hair damp, curling slightly at the ends. Garrus’ mandibles flared slightly before snapping back into place. His brain short-circuited for a moment, then kicked back in.
“Jane,” he said, managing to keep his voice even. “Do you generally let people into your quarters when you’re in a towel?”
“Not generally, no,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I figured it was you. Also thought you’d drive yourself crazy a little bit longer before coming up here, so I’d have time to get dressed.”
He blinked. “I… you knew?”
She smirked. “Of course I did.”
He hesitated, suddenly unsure if he should be here. “I can come back later—”
“It’s fine,” she interrupted, motioning for him to turn around. “Just turn around while I get dressed.”
Garrus tilted his head. “You do know I’m not interested in seeing you naked, Jane. I’m a turian.”
Her head tilted in apparent confusion, her eyes narrowed slightly—something flickered behind them, something he couldn’t quite place.
She hesitated, her voice almost amused, “You… do remember who my father is, right?”
You’re an idiot.
Of course he knew. Selvek. A turian who hadn’t just been attracted to a human—he’d fallen in love with one. Raised a human child as his own. Shepard herself had clearly never thought of interspecies relationships as strange. And if what Garrus suspected about her and Nihlus was true, she herself had no qualms about it. Nihlus hadn’t either.
Yet somehow, he hadn’t really thought about it until this exact moment.
“Fair point,” he admitted, turning to face the door. “If it helps, though, I can assure you I don’t have a fetish for humans.”
Spirits. Stop talking. he chastised himself. He didn’t know why he kept trying to convince her. But then, he heard it. For a fraction of a second, her pulse jumped. His brow plates twitched. But as he focused, her heartbeat evened out. Maybe he’d misheard. Probably nothing.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she said lightly.
Shoving the thought away, he refocused. “Jane, do you really think the Alliance will sentence Dr. Saleon?”
She sighed. “I don’t think they’re going to let him go, Garrus. Not after what we saw on that ship. It’s obvious he’s been experimenting on humans too. At a minimum, he’s guilty of murder.”
He heard the rustling of fabric behind him, as she got dressed.
“I just…” He hesitated. “I want to make sure he won’t escape—”
Then suddenly, there it was. That sweet, nutty scent he always noticed on her, stronger than ever.
Without thinking, he turned around.
She was reaching for her hoodie, but his focus honed in on the scent. He knew it well by now, always layered with cinnamon—but this was stronger, closer. It was hers, but what was it?
Without a second thought, he crossed the distance between them, drawn to it.
Shepard blinked, confused, as he leaned in, closing the space between them, his face hovering near her shoulder. The scent was strongest here, something about it oddly comforting.
Then he heard it. Her heart was racing.
“Umm, Garrus?”
“What is that?” he murmured, voice low. “I’ve smelled it so many times…”
For a moment, she didn’t respond.
Then she laughed, a breathless, almost relieved sound. “My lotion?” she said, shaking her head. “It’s coconut.”
He froze. Then, realization hit him all at once. He suddenly became painfully aware of how close he was to her. Of how his hand had instinctively come up to her arm, steadying her. Of how her pulse was still elevated, even as she tried to play it off.
Slowly, deliberately, he stepped back, releasing her.
He cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “A… coconut?” he asked, as if this was now the most important subject in the galaxy.
Shepard smiled—an unguarded smile. One of the real ones.
“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “It’s a tropical fruit. Kind of weird, actually. I’ve only seen a few myself, not growing up on Earth.”
His mandibles twitched slightly. His own heartbeat still hadn’t entirely settled. But Shepard? She was definitely enjoying this.
“It has a hard shell,” she continued, leaning against the wall, voice casual. “Technically two, I guess. The inside’s white, and it’s full of water.”
Garrus narrowed his eyes slightly.
He wasn’t sure what just happened.
But as she spoke, he swore her lips twitched like she was holding back a smirk.
And somehow, that unsettled him more than anything else.