Shepard
The familiar hum of the Normandy’s engines faded into the background as Shepard stepped onto the dock, boots hitting the Citadel’s docking bay with the same ease as every other time she’d arrived here. But this time felt… different.
It wasn’t an urgent debrief, a tense meeting, or some bureaucratic headache. No, for once, she was here for something normal—or as normal as things got for her.
She inhaled, stretching slightly as she walked. The air smelled crisp and sterile, like all the carefully regulated environments of a space station. The crew filtered out behind her, talking amongst themselves, already making plans for their two-day shore leave.
Shepard smirked, shaking her head slightly. Two days. She’d probably regret this decision, but there was no way in hell anyone was making it back on time tomorrow morning. She wasn’t even sure she would.
“Two full days of shore leave?” Garrus said, falling into step beside her. “That would never happen on a turian ship after only a month on mission.”
Shepard scoffed, “Yeah, well. I’m guessing turian captains also wouldn’t get tickets to a concert and VIP access to the pre- and after-parties for their entire crew. I don’t want to have to chase down half the crew at 0600 when I should be recovering from a hangover.”
Garrus chuckled. “Commander Shepard, recovering from a hangover? Now this I need to see.”
Shepard nudged him lightly with her elbow. “Watch it, Vakarian. I can still find more work for you to do.”
“What would that be? Taking command of the Normandy?” Garrus muttered, but the amused flick of his mandibles gave him away.
Shepard let out an exasperated grunt, though there was no real frustration behind it. “I would be curious to see you hungover…or drunk…or both…”
Garrus shook his head, chuckling, “Never going to happen.”
“What, are you telling me turians don’t get hangovers?” She quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh no, we get them. I just haven’t been that drunk in a very long time.”
“Oh…is that a fact?” She asked, intrigued. “Well, that sounds like a challenge, Vakarian…”
Garrus sighed, glancing at her. “Jane…”
They kept walking, the easy rhythm of their steps syncing up like it always did.
Shepard sighed, rolling her shoulders. “I need to see if I have anything to wear for tonight, but I probably need to go shopping before the concert.”
Garrus glanced at her. “Shopping? Why?”
“You know how it is,” she said with a teasing lilt. “Sean has a reputation to uphold. Can’t have his ‘girlfriend’ being anything less than a supermodel in front of the cameras.”
For just a second—barely even a pause—Garrus hesitated. She almost missed it. She would’ve if she hadn’t been raised by a turian.
Something flickered in the back of her mind. Does he actually care if I’m dating Sean?
Garrus exhaled sharply through his nose. “Supermodel? That’s… setting the bar pretty high.”
Shepard definitely noticed that.
Is he annoyed?
She knew him well enough to catch the tension in his voice, the brief flick of his mandibles.
But why?
He’d already said he wasn’t attracted to humans. Besides, Garrus was just her friend. Maybe her best friend.
She shook the thought from her mind. She was probably overthinking it. “What? You think I can’t pull it off?” she questioned holding his gaze. “You might not be attracted to humans, Garrus…but…I’ve been told I can hold my own.”
He shifted slightly, glancing away toward the crowd filtering past them. “Guess I should start looking for a date myself. Can’t show up to a human party solo—pretty sure that violates some kind of social protocol.”
The words were light, casual even. Joking. But something about them landed wrong. Shepard felt it—a small, sharp twist in her chest that she didn’t have a name for. It was gone almost as fast as it appeared, buried under the immediate logic that followed.
See? He’s thinking about other women. Obviously not interested in humans.
She forced a smirk. “Let me guess, women just line up waiting for you to call them?”
Garrus huffed a laugh. “What can I say? I have a reputation—my dates usually enjoy themselves.”
I’m sure they do. She tried to shove the thought away but it came with an unwelcome image. A beautiful turian woman on his arm, the kind Garrus would actually be attracted to. Doesn’t matter anyway.
She slowed as they reached the point where they’d split off—she had to head home, he was probably off to check on his contacts and get back to his apartment. She turned to him, tilting her head slightly. “You’re coming to the pre-party, right?”
Garrus hesitated again. Just for a second.
Then he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Shepard smiled. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you missed it.” She placed a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. “See you later, Garrus. Can’t say I’m not looking forward to seeing you dressed for a party.”
And then, just like that, she walked away.
Garrus didn’t say anything. But she knew he was standing there, watching her go.
But why does it matter?
Garrus
Garrus watched as Shepard disappeared into the crowd, her words still rattling around in his head.
Can’t have his ‘girlfriend’ being anything less than a supermodel…
That shouldn’t bother him. It really shouldn’t.
Shepard was always herself. She didn’t dress to impress anyone, didn’t chase anyone’s approval. If anything, people adapted to her, not the other way around. That was what made her… well, her.
And yet, the thought of her—of the person he now considered his best friend—going out of her way to fit into Sean Belmore’s world made his mandibles twitch.
Not because she wasn’t capable of turning heads. Hell, Garrus had never seen her in anything but armor, workout clothes, or a uniform, but he knew. He knew Shepard could walk into a room wearing combat boots and a gun holster, and half the galaxy would still be tripping over themselves to impress her. He’d seen enough of that among the crew of the Normandy. The way more than half the men watched her whenever she walked by. By human standards it was obvious she was attractive.
She didn’t need to change a thing. So why was she choosing to for this rockstar?
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to refocus. He had things to do—contacts to check in with, intel to gather. Real work. Yet even as he started toward C-Sec headquarters, that thought stayed with him, irritating as sand in his plating.
He wasn’t even looking where he was going when a voice called out.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Garrus Vakarian.”
He turned sharply, blinking in surprise as he came face-to-face with Seris Kallus—an old C-Sec colleague, and occasionally more than that.
Tall, sharp-featured, with silver-white plating and dark eyes that had always held a challenge, Seris had been one of the best damn officers he’d ever worked with. The two of them had history—on and off the job.
“Seris,” Garrus greeted, tilting his head slightly. “Been a while.”
“I’ll say.” She smirked, arms folded across her chest. “One minute, you’re on the fast track to taking over for Pallin, and the next? Poof. You’re gone. I heard you got scooped up by that new Spectre—Shepard, right?”
Garrus chuckled. “We both know I wasn’t on the fast track for anything other than the same thing I was doing.”
Seris scoffed, dismissing the thought. “So? How is it? Babysitting a human?”
Garrus’ mandibles twitched. “Hardly. She’s the one keeping me in line.”
Seris raised a brow plate, smirking. “Right. You always were idealistic, Vakarian.” She shook her head. “So what’s the gig? Keeping her from stepping on too many political toes?”
Garrus rolled his shoulders. “She reassigned me under her authority as a Spectre. Wasn’t exactly my call—though the transfer orders cited my ‘sniper skills.’”
Seris gave him a look like she wasn’t buying it, but let it go. “Well, at least it sounds more exciting than what I’ve been doing. Same old patrols. Same pointless regulations. You always were too restless for C-Sec, you know?”
Garrus huffed a quiet laugh. “So you’ve told me.”
There was a beat of silence before Seris tilted her head slightly. “You free tonight?”
The question caught Garrus off guard—not because it was strange, but because for the first time in a while, he realized he actually had plans.
He hesitated.
Seris smirked. “Come on, Vakarian. Don’t tell me you’re busy.”
The thought hit him before he could stop it. He didn’t have to show up alone. Didn’t have to stand there watching Shepard play her part with Sean while he nursed a drink in the corner like some kind of third wheel.
He could bring Seris. Have a drink. Blow off some steam. Make it easy.
“I actually have an invite to something,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “Zero Signal’s pre-party. VIP access. Interested?”
Seris blinked, then laughed. “You? At a rock concert pre-party?”
Garrus chuckled, shaking his head. “You in or not?”
She smirked, stepping a little closer. “You buying drinks?”
He exhaled through his nose. “Don’t push your luck.”
Seris grinned. “Alright, Vakarian. I’m in.”
He nodded, keeping his posture relaxed.
But something about it didn’t sit right. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Easy. Simple. Familiar.
Then why did it already feel like a mistake?
Sean
Sean had seen a lot of beautiful people. It was the industry. Flashy, curated, manufactured perfection. Every movement designed to be photographed, every expression measured. He’d dated models, actors, other musicians—the kind of people who practiced looking effortless.
But when Jane walked toward him, it wasn’t practiced.
It was just her.
She stepped into the restaurant like she belonged there—like she belonged anywhere. It wasn’t just the outfit, though the tight black leather pants and loose white tank draped low enough to show the black lace underneath were doing a lot of the work. Layered necklaces caught the light as they fell against her bare skin. Her hair was down, ends curled just enough to pretend she hadn’t spent time on it. He knew better.
And her eyes…
Sean had seen that look before. Dark, smokey eyes that made her look dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that she could kill someone with her bare hands.
The leather jacket slung over one shoulder was more punctuation than clothing—final proof that she hadn’t dressed for anyone in the room.
Hell, he’d forgotten what a problem she could be.
And judging by the way half the restaurant turned to look at her, everyone else had just figured it out too.
Shepard slid into the seat across from him, smirking. “Alright, Belmore. I already know I’m going to regret this, but I gotta ask—what the hell is this place?”
Sean grinned, leaning back. “Japanese-Italian fusion.”
She blinked. Then with a completely deadpan stare blurted “I’m sorry. What?”
“Fusion, Sparky.” He gestured around as if that explained anything. “They take two incredible cuisines and ruin them simultaneously.”
Shepard’s lips twitched, fighting laughter. “No. No, I refuse to believe this is real. What did you even order?”
“Spaghetti sashimi.”
She blinked again. Then, finally, she lost it.
The sound of her laughter—real, unguarded laughter—made a few nearby diners glance over. Sean grinned, watching her cover her mouth with one hand, shaking her head like she already regretted every decision that led to this moment.
“I hate you,” she muttered, still laughing.
“C’mon, Sparky,” he teased, resting his elbows on the table. “You used to have a refined palate.”
She leveled a flat stare at him. “I still do. I eat sashimi or a great bowl of ragu. I don’t eat them together.”
“But what if you did?” He smirked, taking a sip of his drink.
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. That was the thing about her—she could roll with anything. Even his terrible taste in restaurants. He’d just pay for it later.
Once they both had drinks—Sean had whiskey, Shepard had a whiskey sour, then he finally asked what had been on his mind since she called.
“So,” he said, swirling his drink. “I gotta ask. What’s it like being a Spectre? You wake up every morning and choose violence now?”
She smirked. “I did that before.”
“True,” he conceded, grinning. “But now it’s anything goes?”
Shepard exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “It’s… complicated. Lot of power, lot of red tape, even when there’s technically no red tape. Not the worst job I’ve had, but not exactly what I expected either.”
Sean hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “You ever think about what would’ve happened if you’d stuck with the music?”
Shepard huffed a small laugh, tilting her head. “You ever think about what would’ve happened if you joined the Alliance?”
“Fair point.”
He had thought about it, back when he was younger—before the band, before the label. But Sean wasn’t built for the military. Too many rules, too much structure, not enough freedom. And Shepard? She was always going to be someone big.
Didn’t matter if it was on stage or in battle.
“So,” Sean said, smirking as he set his glass down. “Who was that guy losing his mind over the comms?”
Shepard groaned, rubbing her temples. “Joker. My pilot.”
Sean arched a brow. “That was your pilot?”
“Best in the fleet,” she said immediately. “And the biggest pain in my ass.”
Sean grinned. “So, you’re saying he’s a fan?”
She exhaled through her nose. “I’m saying I will never hear the end of this.”
Sean leaned back, watching her for a second. The smirk, the sharp wit, the way she hadn’t changed at all even after everything. And yet… something was different. Not in a bad way. Just in a way that told him not everyone knew this side of her anymore.
He tilted his head slightly. “So. Whole crew coming tonight?”
Shepard took a slow sip of her drink. “Well, I couldn’t do this just for Joker and leave the rest of the crew out.”
Sean huffed a laugh. “Yeah? You sure it wasn’t just you trying to flex your VIP connections?”
Shepard gave him a dry look. “Uh, have we met? First human Spectre? N7 operative? That ring any bells?”
Sean smirked. “Don’t forget Zero Signal’s original lead singer. That’s gotta be a trip, Lexi…”
She shook her head, exasperated but amused. “I wrote like three songs. That’s it. Also, don’t. Lexi? Not a thing anymore.”
Sean held up his hands in mock surrender. “You were also good on the guitar… Hey, I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be surprised if they start begging you to get on stage tonight.”
“Not happening.” She glared.
“Not yet.” He grinned.
Sean paid the check—despite Shepard arguing the whole time.
“I invited you, Sparky. Just let me buy your overpriced whiskey sour.” He signed the datapad with a flourish. “Was it good at least?”
“Probably the best part of the meal,” she admitted, leaning back in her chair. “They added sesame oil to it.”
“See? Fusion works sometimes.”
She rolled her eyes, conceding the point. Sean knew when he had won.
Sean laughed, standing and offering her his arm. “Come on. Let’s go before they try to serve us teriyaki tiramisu.”
By the time they stepped out onto the Citadel streets, the neon glow of the upper wards reflected off the polished walkways, lights settling around them like a second atmosphere.
He glanced over at her as they walked.
Shepard was effortlessly striking. A soldier who pulled off the supermodel look without trying too hard.
And yet, he could tell—just from the way she walked, the way she carried herself, this wasn’t for him. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She was just existing. And everyone else was noticing.
He chuckled to himself.
“Something funny?” she asked, glancing at him.
Sean shook his head, smirking. “Nah. Just realizing something.”
“What?”
He shrugged, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets. “You’re gonna make my life really difficult tonight, aren’t you?”
Shepard laughed, a warm, carefree sound.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Sean just shook his head, grinning.
Yeah, right.
Garrus
The bass thrummed through the club, low and steady, vibrating through the floor beneath Garrus’ boots. The lights pulsed in slow, hypnotic waves of neon white and blue, flashing across the crowded space. He wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or the sheer ridiculousness of this situation that made his mandibles twitch, but either way—he was here now.
Seris nudged him with an elbow. “So, where’s your Spectre?”
Garrus scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. “Probably still with Sean.”
Seris chuckled, shaking her head. “Never thought I’d see the day. Garrus Vakarian, babysitting a human rockstar’s girlfriend.”
He rolled his eyes. “She’s not his girlfriend.” His tone was more annoyed than he intended.
Seris tilted her head. “You sure?”
Before he could answer, a commotion at the front entrance drew his attention. A shift in the crowd. A sudden swell of cameras flashing.
People were turning toward the front of the club, a murmur passing through the guests like a ripple. Garrus followed the movement, flicking his gaze toward the entrance—
And there was Sean Belmore.
He strode inside like he owned the place, all easy confidence, grinning as cameras went off around him. The cameras weren’t just on him, though.
There was someone beside him.
A woman.
Sleek black leather pants, a loose white top that dipped low against golden skin, layered necklaces catching the pulsing club lights. A black leather jacket draped gracefully over one shoulder. Her hair fell in effortless waves down her back.
She looked like she’d stepped right out of a magazine. Like she belonged in this world.
Probably a supermodel, an actress, or some other famous musician.
But if Sean was here, where was Jane? Weren’t they supposed to have dinner together? Garrus turned his head, scanning the room for Shepard, assuming she probably walked in earlier and he just hadn’t noticed.
But then he sensed it.
Cinnamon and coconut.
It was so sharp, so undeniably her that his stomach twisted. His gaze snapped back. Realization settling in. It wasn’t some actress or model. That was Shepard. That was Jane.
Garrus stared, absolutely, completely stared.
She and Sean had stopped just inside the club, facing some of the cameras as people shouted questions, flashes still going off. Sean laughed at something, as his arm wrapped around her waist. He said something to Shepard, and she rolled her eyes, smiling before nudging him forward.
Then she turned slightly—just enough for Garrus to see her face. Her makeup was dark, smokey—sharp enough to be dangerous.
His brain short-circuited.
Jane?
The same Shepard who spent ninety percent of their time together in armor, military fatigues, or workout clothes? The same Shepard who grinned over Mako schematics and sparred like her life depended on it? The same Shepard who literally wrestled pyjaks to the ground just a few days ago?
And yet… this wasn’t wrong.
She wasn’t faking it. She wasn’t trying too hard. She was just—Jane. A version of her he had never seen before. One that didn’t need to be in armor or a uniform to own whatever space she walked into.
And everyone else saw it too. That’s what got him the most. Because as Sean and Shepard made their way through the club, every single head turned.
Garrus barely even noticed Seris watching him now.
Not until she let out a low chuckle. “Spirits, Vakarian. You look like you’ve been shot.”
He blinked, snapping his gaze away—only to immediately notice the Normandy crew reacting just like he was.
Tali was frozen, hands on the sides of her helmet. Kaidan and Liara both looked stunned—Kaidan’s jaw slightly slack, Liara’s eyes wide in a way that suggested she was reevaluating everything she thought she knew about human appearance. Ashley had both eyebrows raised so high they might as well have been orbiting the Citadel. And Joker—Joker looked like he had just found religion.
The entire squad was staring, like none of them knew what to do with the fact that Jane Shepard looked like she belonged on the cover of every magazine in the galaxy.
Garrus swallowed, forcing his jaw to not tighten. The way everyone’s eyes lingered shouldn’t bother him.
Then why does it?
Seris, meanwhile, was still watching him like she was figuring out how to weaponize this.
“Shepard’s looking for someone,” Seris muttered, smirking.
Garrus exhaled through his nose, looking over again just as Shepard’s eyes swept the crowd.
She was still at the bar, her drink in hand, nodding absently at something Sean was saying—but her gaze was moving. Scanning.
Her eyes landed on him. And damn it, he felt it.
It was one second. Just one damn second where her eyes met his across the club, and the rest of the room faded. Then… she smirked. His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.
“Vakarian,” she called, and spirits damn him, he responded to his name before he even thought about it.
The Normandy crew turned, all eyes now on him.
Without a second thought, he got up from his seat. He didn’t even think to offer his hand to Seris. A small part of him registered the reaction from Seris as she raised an eyebrow plate, clearly not expecting his reaction.
He walked towards Shepard as if the way she called his name had been an order. No. A plea. The music seemed to fade into the background, as did the stares from the crew. His sole focus was getting to her. Finally, he found himself stopping just beside her, almost protectively.
“Let’s ask the officer here,” Shepard said, leaning slightly against the bar, the same casual confidence she always had. “Tell me, as a C-Sec officer… if I were to hypothetically make good on my threat, what exactly would happen to me?”
Garrus exhaled sharply. He already hated whatever this conversation was.
Sean, grinning, was clearly loving this. “Vakarian, is it? She’s admitting to murder on camera. Just gonna let that slide?”
Garrus almost answered before Seris beat him to it. “Oh, I’d arrest her.”
Garrus turned to look at Seris, her smirk wide and way too amused.
Shepard quirked an eyebrow in amusement. She didn’t look concerned. Just interested.
Garrus exhaled slowly before finally responding. “Yeah? And the Council would countermand you, classify all the evidence, then call Pallin to have her released.” He took a sip of his drink, glancing at Shepard. “Then you’d probably lose your job. That’s all even assuming you’d manage to arrest her at all.”
Seris chuckled, though she looked slightly offended. “Maybe. But you can’t tell me arresting a Spectre wouldn’t be worth it.”
Shepard raised her glass slightly in a silent toast. “What is it with C-Sec officers wanting to arrest Spectres? Is this part of your training, Vakarian?” she quipped.
Garrus shook his head, utterly done with this conversation.
But as Shepard went back to her drink and Sean said something that made her roll her eyes, Garrus still… couldn’t stop watching her.
And that was what finally made him realize he was in a lot of trouble.
Shepard
Shepard had gotten used to the cameras. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. She had only had to deal with them a few times over the years. Whenever her and Sean got together. She knew what she needed to do, but it was certainly a practiced routine. Knowing how to smile, where to stand, how to wave.
It wasn’t like the military, where everything was precise, structured. Where she knew exactly how to hold herself, when to speak, when to listen. With the media, it was different. A game. One she never wanted to play.
And yet, the moment she and Sean stepped through the doors, the flashes hit like a shockwave. Questions, overlapping voices, a blur of movement. She had never liked it—never wanted to be a part of it—but Sean? Sean thrived in it.
“You’re going to have to start getting used to this, Sparky,” he said as they moved further in, cameras still tracking their every step.
Shepard exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Yeah, well. I only need to deal with this when you’re around. Besides, they’re not here for me.”
“You’re joking, right?” Sean grinned, slinging an arm around her waist like it was nothing as they turned towards another camera. “Commander Jane Alexis Shepard, first human Spectre, former lead singer of Zero Signal? Trust me, half of them would rather talk to you.”
She laughed. “Then they’re going to be really disappointed.”
Sean chuckled, leading her toward the bar. “Guess we’d better get a drink in you, then.”
That part, at least, she could agree with.
As they settled into the bar, she began wondering if Garrus had actually come. She hadn’t seen him yet. She began scanning the crowd before she even realized it.
Sean was saying something, making a joke about some high-profile music exec who tried to screw him out of a contract—something that normally would have at least gotten a chuckle out of her—but her focus had shifted.
“Lexi…” Sean said again, chuckling as he nudged her. “Tell them about the time you—”
“Sean,” she interrupted, her voice smooth but with a playful edge. “If you call me that one more time in public in front of a camera, no one is going to find your body tomorrow.”
The crew erupted in laughter.
But she was looking for him. And then, suddenly, she found him.
Garrus was near the VIP section, drink in hand, mandibles flicking ever so slightly as he watched her. No, not just watching. Studying her. Like he was still trying to make sense of something.
Her breath caught for a fraction of a second before she schooled herself.
“You know they’re recording everything in here,” Sean quipped.
Then, just to see what he’d do, she smirked. Then called him over. “Vakarian.”
He got up immediately. Like it was instinct. Like the way she said his name was enough. But then—her eyes flicked slightly to the side, and she saw her.
A turian woman.
A date?
Her stomach twisted, just slightly.
Not because she hadn’t expected Garrus to bring a date. Why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t waiting on anyone, he wasn’t hers, he had every right to, but because she hadn’t thought to bring one herself.
Sean wasn’t her date. Not in the way Garrus and that turian woman clearly were.
“Let’s ask the officer here,” Shepard said, as she leaned against the bar. “Tell me, as a C-Sec officer… if I were to, hypothetically, make good on my threat, what exactly would happen to me?”
Garrus exhaled sharply.
Sean, grinned, he was having too much fun with this. “Vakarian, is it? She’s admitting to murder on camera. Just gonna let that slide?”
But before Garrus could respond, his date spoke, making it painfully obvious what her role here was, “Oh, I’d arrest her,” she said easily, smirking as she took a sip of her drink.
Shepard raised a brow, catching the slight edge in her tone. Jealous? Maybe. But she didn’t need to be, did she? Because Garrus didn’t have a thing for humans. He had told her as much the other day in her room while she had been wearing nothing other than a towel.
Which meant his date had no reason to be this jealous, and yet… she certainly seemed like she was. And Garrus was something else entirely.
Then finally Garrus seemed to settle back into the conversation, sighing before responding. “Yeah? And the Council would countermand you, classify all the evidence, then call Pallin to have her released.” He took a sip of his drink, glancing at Shepard. “Then you’d probably lose your job. That’s all even assuming you’d manage to arrest her at all.”
His date certainly didn’t expect his response, seeming mildly offended. “Maybe. But you can’t tell me arresting a Spectre wouldn’t be worth it.”
Shepard smirked, raising her glass slightly. “What is it with C-Sec officers wanting to arrest Spectres? Is this part of your training, Vakarian?”
Garrus exhaled sharply, shaking his head, clearly done with this conversation.
And yet… his attention didn’t shift. He stayed right where he was. Next to her. Watching.
She forced herself to look away, taking another sip of her drink as she half-listened to the crew’s chatter around them.
Then she caught Sean’s expression—that calculating look he got when he was about to cause trouble. She could see he was about to do something impulsive, something she’d actually murder him for.
Oh no.
“So, who here hasn’t heard Sparky sing?”
The Normandy crew exploded. Spirits help me… Out of all the things Sean could have done in this moment, it had to be that.
“Wait, what?” Joker practically screeched.
“No way,” Ashley muttered, staring at Shepard.
“You’re lying,” Tali accused, sounding personally offended.
Shepard saw this coming a mile away and immediately took a long sip of her drink, shaking her head.
“Nope. Not happening,” she said.
Sean grinned, draping an arm over her shoulder. “Oh, come on. You wrote half the early Zero Signal tracks.”
She groaned loudly. “Three. I wrote three songs. Maybe five. Or six.”
“That were hits,” Sean shot back. “And I’m telling you, you still have the voice for it.”
Tali turned to her. “You have to sing something.”
“Not happening.” She shook her head again.
Sean clearly understood and audience. He had done this on purpose in this moment. She should have planned this better.
Sean grinned. “Yet.”
Then—Garrus’ voice cut through the din. “Wouldn’t mind hearing it.”
Shepard froze. It was so casual, so easy, thrown out like it was nothing, but it wasn’t nothing. Not to her.
Because for over a decade, she had never even considered singing. For anyone. It just wasn’t something she did anymore. It wasn’t her anymore.
But Garrus?
She looked at him, her smirk faltering just slightly.
If it was for him… maybe.
She exhaled, shaking her head, trying to clear whatever the hell that thought had been.
“Not drunk enough for that,” she muttered, taking another sip of her drink.
Garrus huffed a quiet laugh, and that single sound sent heat curling in her stomach. He leaned in, smirking. “That can be arranged.” His voice barely above a whisper.
Her gaze flicked to him, their eyes meeting for a moment that seemed to stretch forever. In that moment, her heart became the loudest sound in that club. Or at least that’s how it felt to her.
Then she smiled, recomposing herself as reality settled back around them. Before she could fully register it, Sean was handing her a fresh drink.
Shepard sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “I hate all of you.”
The Normandy crew cheered.
Garrus
The club had transformed into something else entirely. The steady bass that had thumped through the pre-party had built into a full force now, pulsing through the crowd in a way that was impossible to ignore. The air was thick with energy, with movement, with anticipation.
Zero Signal had been on stage for twenty minutes already, and Garrus had been watching, sort of. The music was good, he’d give them that. The lighting was erratic, the crowd was wild, and Sean Belmore knew exactly how to command a room. He wasn’t unlike Shepard, in some ways, though Sean’s confidence had more theatrics to it. Shepard didn’t need the lights, the stage, or the screaming fans. She just walked into a room and owned it.
And now, Garrus was staring at the reason half the club had nearly lost their minds earlier.
Jane.
She was standing near the stage, close enough to be caught in the shifting hues of the neon lights, close enough that the pulse of the bass hit differently. Sean had left the stage for a brief moment between songs, stepping down just enough to reach her. He said something against her ear—she smirked, shaking her head, nudging him away with the back of her hand.
The crew was watching, too. He could see Joker practically vibrating with excitement, Tali shifting on her feet, clearly trying to take everything in. The entire squad was here—Ashley, Kaidan, even Liara, who was watching with the kind of fascinated curiosity she reserved for things she didn’t quite understand.
Garrus wasn’t sure where Seris was. He knew she was close, could feel her presence beside him, but his focus was locked elsewhere.
Then Sean stepped back onto the stage, grinning as he pulled the mic toward him.
“This next one—” He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, letting the anticipation build. “This one’s new.”
The crowd erupted.
Sean chuckled, holding up a hand to settle them before his gaze flicked back toward Shepard. His expression shifted, something softer, something real beneath the showman’s grin.
“I wrote this one for someone who was there before all of it. One of the first people who believed in this band, who pushed me to do something with my damn life. And now,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “now she’s the woman who might just save the whole galaxy.”
Shepard was already rolling her eyes, lips twitching into something between amusement and mild exasperation.
Sean’s grin widened. “This one’s for you, Sparky.”
The music started—something slower, heavier, the deep pull of electric guitar wrapping around the silence before the first verse hit.
Garrus wasn’t listening. Not to the lyrics, not to the melody. Because Shepard was smiling.
It wasn’t one of her usual smirks, not the sharp-edged confidence or the knowing amusement she wore when she was winning an argument. It was something quieter. Something real.
And that’s what undid him.
He could rationalize everything else. The outfit, the way she fit into this world effortlessly, the way every single person in this club had turned to look at her. He could tell himself this was just a side of Shepard he hadn’t seen before.
But this?
This meant something to her. And that meant something to him. His stomach twisted. He was suddenly, painfully aware of what happened after the after-party. Sean could take her home. No. Not could. He would take her home.
And why wouldn’t she go with him?
Shepard wasn’t the type to wait around. She was decisive, direct, efficient in every aspect of her life. And if Sean was an option? If this was someone she already had a history with, someone she was already comfortable with—someone the whole damn galaxy saw as a walking sex symbol—why the hell wouldn’t she go with him?
Garrus swallowed, suddenly feeling too warm despite the cool press of his drink against his hand. He wasn’t looking at Seris, but he knew she was watching him. He could feel the weight of her gaze, could sense the way she had been studying him all night.
She was right here. Right next to him. And yet he wasn’t thinking about her. He should be.
By all logic, he should be thinking about the fact that Seris was attractive, interested, uncomplicated. That this was exactly what he’d planned when he invited her—easy, no strings attached. She didn’t expect anything from him, didn’t ask for more than what he was willing to give.
But all Garrus could think about was Shepard and the way she looked at Sean. And the fact that, for the first time, he hated not knowing what she was thinking. He took a slow sip of his drink, willing his thoughts back into something rational, into something that made sense.
It shouldn’t matter. He didn’t have a thing for humans. He’d told her as much. So why did the thought of her leaving with Sean make his stomach twist? Why couldn’t he look away?
Then Sean’s voice cut through the air again, carrying over the music, deep and familiar. “You gonna sing this one with me, Sparky?”
The crowd lost their minds.
Shepard choked on her drink.
Garrus nearly did too.
Shepard immediately shook her head, laughing as she turned away slightly, already retreating toward the bar. Sean laughed into the mic, playing it up. “Alright, alright. One day. You’re gonna crack, I know it.”
As the song continued, Garrus exhaled slowly, setting his drink down before turning away from the stage.
Because he knew one thing with absolute certainty now.
He was going to the after-party. Even if he wasn’t sure why.
Garrus
The after-party was a mess of lights, music, and bodies moving in an unsteady rhythm of too much alcohol and too little restraint. The energy was different from the concert—less controlled, more chaotic. Everyone was riding the high of the night, the music pulsing through the club, drinks flowing without pause.
Garrus leaned against the bar, drink in hand, scanning the room without really looking at anything. Except that wasn’t true, was it? Because she was here. And he couldn’t stop watching her.
Shepard stood near the center of the room, close to Sean, her drink in one hand, her posture relaxed. Too relaxed. She was laughing, easy, like she belonged here. And maybe she did. She looked the part—dangerously stunning, effortless, magnetic in a way that made it impossible for anyone to ignore her.
Including him.
Garrus clenched his jaw, taking a slow sip of his drink.
Sean was standing just a little too close. Talking just a little too low. Shepard was leaning in slightly, her head tilting back in laughter. The warm, golden glow of the club’s dim lighting caught in her hair, framing her like something untouchable.
And he hated it.
Hated how easy it was for her to be here with Sean. How Sean knew things about her that he didn’t. How obvious it was that, at the end of the night, Shepard would be leaving with him.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, willing himself to look anywhere else.
Seris was still beside him, her mandibles flicking as she studied him. He could feel her watching him, feel the way she was putting pieces together that he wasn’t sure he even understood himself.
Then—the music shifted. Something slower, heavier. And Sean turned toward Shepard, a grin playing at the edges of his lips. He held out a hand and she took it.
Garrus’ grip on his glass tightened.
They moved onto the dance floor effortlessly. Sean’s hands found Shepard’s waist, pulling her just close enough, guiding her into the rhythm like they had done this a thousand times before. Like she had always fit perfectly here, in this world.
And she let him.
Garrus downed the rest of his drink. He could not keep watching this.
Then—Seris turned to him, a slow smirk curling across her face. “Well, Vakarian?” she said, head tilting slightly. “You just gonna stand there, or are you actually going to have a good time?”
He exhaled through his nose.
Right.
He wasn’t here to watch Shepard dance with someone else. Seris was here. With him. And maybe it was time to remind himself of that.
He turned to her, mandibles flaring slightly. “You know what? You’re right.”
Seris grinned. “Damn right, I am.”
She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor before he could second-guess himself. The music swallowed them, the weight of the crowd closing in, the steady pulse of the bass thrumming through his bones. Seris moved easily, fluidly, her hands finding his waist, her movements deliberate. Focused.
She was stunning. Smart. Sharp. Every bit the kind of woman he should be interested in. So why wasn’t he? Why was his mind still stuck on someone else?
He forced himself to engage, to move with her, to let his hands settle against her hips. It didn’t feel bad. It just didn’t feel right.
And then he felt it.
A flicker of something electric beneath his skin, a shift in the air, something pulling at the edges of his awareness.
He looked up to find Shepard was watching him. Her eyes locked onto his across the room, a moment stretching between them, weightless and heavy all at once.
Her expression was unreadable.
But she was looking at him.
And suddenly, nothing felt like a game anymore.