Shepard
The screen flickered, the soft blue glow casting sharp shadows across Shepard’s quarters.
“Focus, Jane.”
She groaned, rubbing her temples. “I am focusing. This is ridiculous.”
Across from her, Garrus folded his arms, mandibles twitching in frustration. “You’re barely paying attention.”
“I am paying attention. That’s the problem. I just don’t care.” Shepard huffed, slumping slightly as the decryption program flashed another failure. “Why am I doing this again?”
“Because I refuse to keep opening every single locked crate and terminal in the galaxy that you come across,” Garrus said, deadpan.
Shepard scoffed. “It’s not every crate—”
“Just the ones with more complicated encryption algorithms,” Garrus quipped.
She stared at him. “That’s a really specific accusation.”
“It’s ninety percent of them, Jane.”
She groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “This is a waste of time. I’m a combat specialist, Garrus. Hand-to-hand combat? I’m in. Sniper’s perch? Got it covered. Decryption? Not me.”
“And yet I’ve seen you do it just fine when you actually focus.”
“We’ve talked about this. I figured some stuff out when I was a kid. That’s it. The last time I remember doing anything significant with electronics I was, like, ten.”
Garrus exhaled through his nose, clearly not buying it. “You have a military-grade omni-tool. The amount of times I’ve seen you punch something instead of trying to unlock it—”
Before Shepard could retort, Joker’s voice crackled over the comms. “Message coming in. Patching it through.”
Shepard turned, already shifting gears. “Commander Shepard here.”
Admiral Hackett’s familiar voice filled the room, low and steady. “Shepard, we’ve received distress signals from a colony in the Hades Gamma cluster. They’re reporting a pirate raid—small force, but causing significant damage. You’re the closest ship in the area.”
Shepard straightened. “Understood, Admiral. We’ll handle it.”
The comms clicked off. Shepard groaned. “What are the odds Dr. Chakwas will let me off the ship?”
Garrus scoffed. “None, but it doesn’t matter. There isn’t a chance I’m letting you off this ship to go deal with pirates. I’ll lock you in your quarters if you try, and I’ll be sure to leave a military grade encryption lock.”
Shepard nearly growled at him in frustration but admitted defeat. “Fine, go get a team ready. I guess you’re handling it.”
Garrus quirked a brow plate and nodded, then turned to walk out of her room.
Down in the cargo bay, Shepard stood against the workbench, arms crossed as Garrus, Ashley, and Tali prepped their gear.
“Standard sweep,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Identify hostiles, neutralize threats, secure civilians.”
Garrus nodded, checking the sight on his rifle. “You got it, Commander.”
She smirked. “You know, just pirates… it would probably be easy—”
Garrus tilted his head. “Military grade encryption.”
Shepard rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine.”
Tali snorted. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Ashley slung her rifle over her shoulder, shaking her head. “They’ve been doing this since she’s been confined to the ship.”
Shepard smirked but didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed a hand on Garrus’ arm. “Be careful.”
“I always am, Jane,” Garrus said. “And you said it yourself, they’re only a few pirates.”
She shouldn’t be uneasy, this should be a simple mission and yet something was bothering her. Maybe it was just that she had been stuck on the ship for a couple of weeks now and she was growing frustrated.
“Joker, did you identify a drop point?”
“Yes, Commander. Approaching the drop point in 3 minutes.” Joker replied.
With that, the ground team got into the Mako and prepared to drop.
At first, everything was fine.
Shepard stood near Joker, watching as the first reports came in—clearing buildings, securing hostages. Tali’s voice filtered through the comms detailing enemy positions. Garrus confirmed their strategy. Ashley signaled the all-clear on their first location.
It was just another op.
Then, suddenly, Garrus’ voice crackled through the comms. “Taking heavy fire—”
The transmission cut out. There was a moment of static, then dead silence.
Shepard froze. “Garrus, say again.”
No response. The line was gone.
“Get them back, Joker.”
Joker immediately started running diagnostics. “I just lost their signal.”
Shepard’s heartbeat pounded against her chest. “What?”
“There’s interference—some kind of jamming field. I can’t get a read on them. Sensors are useless, and comms are dead.”
Shepard exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing the panic down. She turned to Pressly. “Can we override it?”
Pressly shook his head. “Not without knowing the source of the interference. If it’s coming from ground-based emitters, we’d have to disable them manually.”
She nodded, processing. The weight of it was settling deep in her chest, threatening to squeeze the air from her lungs.
They were gone. She couldn’t reach them.
She clenched her fists, barely aware of the slight tremor in her fingers.
“Keep scanning. Try seeing if there’s anything we can use to get through this interference.” Shepard ordered. “I’ll be in the comm room, patch anything you get through.”
“Aye, aye, Commander.”
As the hours passed, the crew brought in one report after another. The scanners had been useless. They did a low pass, near the drop point but nothing was immediately obvious.
I can’t lose him. Not like this.
Not to some nameless pirates. Not to a jammed signal. Not to a stupid, meaningless mission.
The thought hit her harder than she expected.
She made her way back out to the CIC.
“Joker, find us a secure drop point. We’ll send a team after them.” Shepard forced her voice to sound steadier than she felt.
Joker snapped his head up. “Uh, Commander? You sure about that? We don’t even know where they are—”
“Commander,” Pressly said cautiously, eyeing her. “Are you certain?”
She nodded, then tapped her comm, “Wrex, get ready. You, Kaidan, and Liara are going to head down to the planet.”
Wrex grunted, sounding actually pleased. “We’re on it, Shepard.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Get us as close to the colony as you can, safely.”
Please be alive.
“Approaching drop point two, ETA two minutes.” Joker broadcast
“This is going to be fun,” she heard Wrex over the comms.
Before anyone could respond, the comms crackled back to life.
“—under control. Repeat, interference is down.”
Garrus.
Shepard’s knees nearly buckled.
“Garrus?”
“We’re fine,” Garrus’ voice came through, rough but solid. “Had to take out a jammer. And a lot more pirates than we expected, but no casualties.”
Shepard exhaled, her pulse still hammering in her ears.
She turned away from the CIC, toward the comm room.
“Joker, get me a status report as soon as they’re onboard.”
“Aye, aye, Commander.”
With that Shepard walked toward the comm room, because she couldn’t bear to go down to meet them in the cargo bay. Her heart was still pounding. The weight in her chest wasn’t lifting.
She could have lost him, And that’s when it hit her.
It wasn’t just worry. It wasn’t just concern for a teammate.
It was him.
It was the thought of losing Garrus that had nearly destroyed her. The sheer force of it left her breathless, shaking, gripping the edge of the comm console like she needed something to hold onto.
I can’t lose you.
She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to steady herself. Trying to blink away the tears that were betraying her.
The worst part was that no matter what she felt, he didn’t feel the same way. He would never feel the same way. He had told her as much. I can assure you I don’t have a fetish for humans.
She had to live with that and she had to learn to live with this. He had become her best friend, and she wouldn’t give that up for anything. She would figure this out.
But right now? Right now, she just needed to know he was safely back aboard the Normandy.
And breathe.
Garrus
Garrus stepped out of the Mako, rolling his shoulders as the ramp settled beneath his boots. His armor was scuffed, his rifle still warm from the last few shots he’d fired, but all things considered, the mission had gone well. No casualties, no serious injuries—just a few too many pirates and a comm blackout that had lasted way longer than it should have.
Which was why, as he scanned the cargo bay, he found himself waiting for her.
Where is she?
His mandibles twitched. Something was off.
Normally, after something like this—losing contact with the Normandy for hours—he would have expected Shepard would be here, waiting, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, demanding a debrief before their boots even hit the deck. He expected her to be the first thing he saw. Instead, it was Joker’s voice coming through the intercom.
“All ground teams report status.”
Garrus frowned. “All accounted for. Minimal injuries, mission complete.”
Joker didn’t say anything else—just signed off, business as usual. Which made Garrus’ irritation flare even further.
Why wasn’t she here? Had something happened? Was she back in the med bay?
His mind immediately began running through scenarios—none of them good. Was she okay? Had she collapsed? Had something gone wrong? His steps were quick, almost instinctive as he made his way toward the CIC, already flipping on his comms.
“Joker.”
“Yeah, Big Guy?”
“Where’s Shepard?”
A beat of silence. Then Joker responded, voice casual. Too casual.
“Still in the comm room last I checked.”
Garrus exhaled sharply through his nose, tension shifting into something else.
Not injured. Not in the med bay. Just… in the comm room.
His jaw tightened. What the hell is she doing in there?
They’d been gone for hours. Lost contact. He’d half-expected her to be pacing the cargo bay, ready to tear into him for not checking in sooner—even though the damn jammer had been out of his control.
But she wasn’t there. She was in the comm room. Doing what? Paperwork? Checking messages?
Maybe she was still pissed he hadn’t let her go planetside. Maybe this was her way of making a point—letting him know she didn’t need to be there when he got back. That she had better things to do than wait around for him.
Fine.
If she wanted to sulk, that was her problem. But he was going to tell her exactly what he thought about—
Then he stopped. The moment he stepped inside, his mind blanked. She was not okay.
She was standing there, her back to him, one hand gripping the edge of the console like her life depended on it. Her shoulders were tight, her head bowed slightly, but it was her breathing that made something sharp twist in his chest.
It was uneven. Too shallow. Like she was trying to control it but failing. And her heart was racing. He could hear it louder than anything else in this room.
Garrus hesitated, the frustration bleeding out of him as something else took its place.
“Jane?” His voice was quieter than he expected.
She didn’t move at first. Just inhaled sharply, like she was trying to steady herself. But then she turned.
And before he could process what was happening, she crossed the space between them and threw her arms around him.
Garrus went still—just for a heartbeat. Then instinct took over, and he pulled her in without question.
She was warm, solid, real in his arms, and she clung to him, her fingers gripping the plates of his armor like she was afraid he’d disappear.
He didn’t know what to say. Because this wasn’t just relief.
It wasn’t just a casual, “oh good, you’re alive.”
This was something deeper.
This was fear. And Commander Jane Shepard didn’t get scared. Not like this. Not the paralyzing kind of fear.
Slowly, he lowered his head, his voice quieter now. “Jane…”
She exhaled, a breathless sound against his neck, her body still tense. “I—” Her voice caught. She swallowed, then tried again. “I wasn’t ready to lose you.”
His stomach twisted, his grip tightening slightly.
For a moment, he wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a C-Sec officer. He wasn’t Shepard’s second-in-command.
He was just Garrus. And she was just Jane.
His best friend.
The woman he would follow anywhere. The woman who had just rushed into his arms out of fear of losing him.
She finally pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, but didn’t let go. Her eyes flickered with something raw, something unguarded.
“You’re my best friend, Garrus,” she said softly, like it was a confession. “I wasn’t ready to lose you.”
The words hit harder than he expected.
Of course he was her best friend. He knew that. But the way she said it, the way she felt in his arms? Something about it didn’t sit right with him.
Not in a bad way. Not a bad way at all. The thoughts of that night after the concert surfaced unbidden. That was the last time she had been in his arms. She had woken up in his arms.
Dammit, Garrus, stop.
He wasn’t ready to think about that yet. Not now. Not ever. She was his best friend. That was it.
So instead, he smirked.
“Well,” he said, his voice lighter than he felt, “if this is what it takes to get a hug, I’ll have to almost die more often.”
Shepard scoffed, rolling her eyes—but her fingers still hadn’t let go his armor.
And his arms hadn’t let her go either.
Shepard
When she woke up, the fear and the panic that had gripped her the day before had finally eased. She looked around her quarters, not entirely remembering the night before at first. She remembered the comm room, standing there holding on to him. And then… why was her mind blanking?
She shook off the last remnants of sleep, taking a quick shower. Then, just quickly putting on some workout clothes and her N7 hoodie, she made her way to the cargo bay. Still undecided between working out or not. Mostly hoping to find him there.
She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Not really. She just needed to be there.
With him.
She found him exactly where she expected—standing at the workbench, hunched slightly over some project, completely absorbed. The dim lighting cast a faint blue glow over the plating of his armor, highlighting the sharp lines of his silhouette.
For a moment, she just watched him, arms crossed, leaning slightly against the table.
He’s here. He’s fine.
That was enough.
Garrus didn’t acknowledge her immediately, but that wasn’t unusual. When he was focused, everything else faded away. She could’ve stood there for ten minutes and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.
Not that she minded.
Finally, she broke the silence. “What are you up to?”
Garrus didn’t even look up. “Tuning the accuracy. Stability was a little off.” His voice was easy, casual, like this was just another weapon, just another project.
She glanced at what he was working on—a pistol, sleek and compact, the kind of weapon built for precision over power.
“Is that a Brawler IX?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Garrus smirked, finally sparing her a glance. “You know your pistols.”
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m a soldier, would probably be bad if I didn’t.”
Garrus went back to adjusting the sight, his talons working with practiced ease. “Boosted fire rate. Smoothed out the recoil. You’d probably like it.”
That surprised her a more than she let on. Why would it matter if she liked his pistol. It had to work for him, more than for her.
Shepard arched a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” She reached out, gesturing for him to hand it over.
Without hesitation, he passed it to her, watching as she tested the weight, flicked the safety, and aimed down the sights. It felt… good. The balance was perfect, the grip molding naturally to her hand. He knew what she liked, how she handled her weapons, the little adjustments she always made without thinking.
She could already tell—he was right. She already liked it and she hadn’t even fired off a shot.
Satisfied, she moved to hand it back to him but Garrus didn’t take it.
Instead, he just shook his head, mandibles twitching slightly with amusement. “It’s not mine.”
She frowned, confused. “Then whose is it?”
A slow, knowing smirk teased her for a moment before he spoke. “Yours.”
Shepard blinked. For a second, the words didn’t quite register.
Then, instinctively, she looked back down at the pistol—really looked at it.
That’s when she saw it. A detail she had overlooked before. Tiny, subtle, just beneath the barrel, etched carefully into the metal.
“Pyjak.”
Her breath hitched.
Oh.
She chuckled softly. “You noticed…” her voice was barely above a whisper.
Of course he had noticed. But he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t pressed her—had let her process what she needed to. And that meant something.
More than she knew how to put into words.
“I always do, Jane,” he responded stepping closer to her.
She swallowed, her fingers brushing over the engraving. “…When did you do this?”
Garrus leaned back slightly, arms crossing over his chest. “Picked it up on the Citadel. Been working on it since.”
She looked back up at him, eyes searching his face. “How did you—”
He huffed out a soft laugh, tilting his head. “You don’t like slow firing rates or small clips. You can handle recoil, but you also have a trend towards the accuracy of a sniper rifle. Given the choice you’d take a pistol over an assault rifle. Assuming the pistol has enough power.”
He had gotten all that just from watching her in combat? They had never spoken in depth about her weapons, not to that degree, and yet everything he said was right. She preferred a good pistol over an assault rifle any day.
Shepard let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head. “You are something else.”
He just shrugged, completely unfazed. “Figured you could use a new pistol that actually suited you.”
Shepard turned the pistol over in her hands again, her thumb still tracing over the engraving.
“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice quieter than before. “I think I could.”
She looked up, her eyes meeting his.
And for a moment—just a fraction of a second—there was something in his gaze. Not just satisfaction that he’d gotten the pistol right, not just the usual sharp amusement he always had when he was teasing her. This was something else.
Something deeper.
Like he was glad she was letting go of Nihlus. Glad she was holding his pistol in her hands. Glad she was accepting this from him.
Like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
Her breath caught slightly, her fingers tightening on the grip. The weight of the pistol suddenly felt different—heavier in a way that had nothing to do with its design.
Then, before the moment could linger, she exhaled, breaking eye contact first. “I mean, we’ll see how it fires,” she said, forcing her voice back into something light, something easy. “Maybe I’ll hate it.”
Garrus smirked, but she saw it again—that flicker of something behind his eyes before he covered it up. “Doubt it.”
She chuckled, shaking her head, but she still didn’t put the pistol down.
It was getting harder to ignore the way he made her feel.
Shepard
“Wrex, Garrus, we’ve arrived at Tuntau. Get ready and meet me in the cargo bay in ten,” Shepard called over the comms.
She tapped a few controls on the terminal in the CIC, shifting her attention to Joker. “Alright, what have we got? Any structures that jump out on the scanners?”
“Nothing obvious, Commander. If there’s something down there, it’s probably built into the mountains. Lot of rocky terrain,” Joker replied, eyes darting over the console.
Shepard sighed, already regretting her life choices. Rocky terrain? Great. And Garrus? He’s probably going to enjoy every second of making my life miserable driving through it.
When she made her way down to the cargo bay, Wrex and Garrus were already waiting by the Mako, armed and ready. Shepard strode over to her locker, grabbing her assault rifle and sniper rifle out of habit. Then, without a second thought, her hand closed around the new pistol Garrus had given her. There was no hesitation. No pause over the Kessler, no last lingering glance at the M-77 Paladin. Just this gun—her gun now.
“Let’s hope it’s here, Wrex,” she said, stepping into the Mako.
The second they hit the ground, it became painfully clear that Joker hadn’t been exaggerating about the terrain. The planet was a special brand of hell—craggy ridges, deep valleys, and ice-covered rock making for a rough ride.
Shepard gritted her teeth as the Mako bounced violently over yet another ridge.
Garrus, of course, was having the time of his life.
“Commander,” he said, far too amused, “sensors are picking up heat signatures over those mountains.”
“Of course it’s over the mountains…” Shepard muttered, gripping the side of the seat as the Mako jolted forward.
Garrus chuckled, clearly enjoying himself at her expense. “It’s like you love a challenge.”
“I hate everything,” Shepard deadpanned.
As they crested the final ridge, they spotted it—a base built directly into the mountainside, almost hidden in the rock formations.
The guards outside were no match for them. A few well-placed sniper shots, some quick biotic bursts from Wrex, and soon enough they were moving inside.
The moment they stepped through the entrance, Wrex’s entire posture shifted.
“This is the place,” he rumbled, his voice edged with certainty. “My armor’s here somewhere.”
Shepard nodded. “Then let’s find it.”
They encountered heavier resistance inside—mercenaries who put up a decent fight, but nothing they couldn’t handle. It was clear they weren’t expecting anyone to come knocking.
Shepard and Garrus held the line while Wrex took out Tonn Actus himself, the krogan’s final shot precise and personal.
Upstairs, the back room was packed with stolen armor and weapons, crates stacked high with ill-gotten gains.
Shepard grinned, turning to Garrus with raised eyebrows.
He didn’t even let her ask.
“Spirits, you are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met,” he muttered, but he was already moving toward the locked crates.
She smirked. “Think about it this way—you’re doing this for Wrex, not for me.”
Garrus shook his head, but she caught the twitch of amusement in his mandibles as he started bypassing the locks.
One by one, the crates popped open. The final one yielded exactly what Wrex had been looking for.
“This is it.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost… reverent. His massive hands ran over the old plates, his expression unreadable. “I can’t believe my ancestors ever wore this piece of crap, but at least I’ve got it back.”
Shepard smiled. “Glad we could help.”
Wrex turned to her, his red eyes gleaming. “I might just be starting to like you, Shepard.”
There was something in his tone—something deeper beneath the usual gruffness.
For all his bluster, she had a feeling Wrex was a sentimentalist at heart. He stood there for a long moment, fingers grazing over the worn plates of his grandfather’s armor. His face was unreadable, his thoughts his own.
Then, as if catching himself, he shook off the moment and gripped his shotgun with a familiar confidence.
“Come on, Shepard,” Wrex rumbled, stepping forward. “Don’t you still have a galaxy to save? And I’ve got a contract to fulfill.”
His slow, self-satisfied chuckle followed them as they made their way back to the Mako.
Shepard shook her head with a smirk, falling into step beside Garrus.
Somehow, she had the feeling Wrex was going to be sticking around for the long haul.
Shepard
Shepard stared at her terminal. The data flickered across the screen, but none of it mattered. They had the Mu relay coordinates. They knew Saren was looking for it. But they still had no idea where he was going or what his next move would be.
And right now? They had no other leads.
Her fingers clenched against the desk. She exhaled sharply, shoulders tight with frustration.
Then the doors to her quarters slid open.
She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.
There was only one person on this ship who would walk in unannounced. Only one person she allowed to do that.
“You sound frustrated,” Garrus said.
Shepard sighed, rubbing her temples. “That obvious?”
He stepped inside, his presence familiar, steady. “Only because I know you.”
That should have startled her—how easily he could read her. But she didn’t even question it anymore.
Garrus leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Saren?”
Of course he knew.
She finally turned in her chair, looking at him. “We don’t know where he’s going, and I can’t find any other leads.”
Her voice was softened, edged with quiet frustration. “I’m sorry.”
Garrus chuckled, shaking his head. “Jane, you’ll find him.”
She blinked, caught off guard by how certain he sounded. “How?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “No one seems to know where he is.”
Garrus tilted his head, considering for a moment. “Let’s head back to the Citadel. I’ve got a few contacts I can reach out to. Maybe the Council has resources you can use.”
Shepard exhaled, tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “And I should probably check in with Udina and Anderson.”
He smirked. “If you’re into self-inflicted suffering, sure.”
That earned a small smile out of her, just for a second. Then she tapped her comm.
“Joker, set a course for the Citadel.”
“Aye, aye, Commander.”
She let out a slow breath, pushing off her chair. “And maybe you’re right,” she admitted. “The crew could use a break.”
Garrus quirked a brow plate, mandibles twitching. “You included?”
She scoffed, already heading for the door. “Let’s not get carried away, Vakarian.”
He didn’t respond right away. But something in his expression told her that, for once, he wasn’t about to let that slide.