Shepard
As she stepped inside his apartment, the familiar setting was comforting. Yet something about tonight was different. Garrus had been different.
The sparring match had unsettled her more than she cared to admit. It felt like he was toying with her and she was letting him.
And that moment at the counter—“That this is a date.”
She’d said it as a joke. Testing. Prodding. Hoping for… what? Some sign that he felt even a fraction of what she did?
But he’d laughed it off. “Pretty sure sparring doesn’t count as a date, Jane.”
Of course he had. Because Garrus wasn’t into her. He’d made that clear back on the Normandy. I don’t have a fetish for humans. She needed to stop reading into every little moment, every lingering look. They were friends. Best friends. That was all this could ever be.
So why had she agreed to come back here? She didn’t know. She just… hadn’t been able to say no.
She moved towards the couch as she took off her boots and her jacket.
As she looked around while waiting for him to come back with the drinks, a small glint caught her eye. She looked over and suddenly her breath caught. A small holo, with a cracked casing sitting on the end table.
Has that always been here?
She moved over, picking it up, afraid to turn it on. She closed her eyes, willing the memory forward, trying to remember where it was cracked. There must be millions of cracked holos, they’re not exactly robust pieces of technology. And yet…
She tilted it up slightly, and there it was, the same piece she saw in her dream every time. The piece she had taken from that chess board.
She had no idea how long she’d been staring at it. Her hands were shaking, her breaths coming in uneven gasps.
“Jane… ?” Garrus rushed over, probably having heard her heartbeat, her breathing.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t will herself to breathe. This wasn’t possible. The likelihood… “Where did you get this?” she asked barely above a whisper.
In an instant, Garrus was next to her, but her hands were shaking and the confusion on his face was plain. Then finally she turned it on and there she was… the turian woman whose face and markings she remembered so vividly. Her breathing stopped entirely, her hands were shaking.
She could see the worry on Garrus’ face but she could barely react. Then she realized he still hadn’t answered.
“Garrus where did you get this?” she pressed more urgently this time turning to look at him. And that’s when it all finally clicked.
Bright blue eyes…
Then the memory surfaced suddenly, in full, and for the first time ever, she heard it.
She smiled and stuck out her hand. “I’m Jane.”
He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to shake her hand—his talons careful against her smaller fingers. “…Garrus.”
She grinned. “Nice to meet you, Garrus.”
“Jane, what’s wrong? It’s just a holo. Are you alright?” Garrus asked pulling her back to this moment.
“It was you…” her words trailed off as the memory of that boy came together with the man in front of her. The markings, the eyes… it was him. It had always been him.
Garrus
Garrus poured the drinks by memory, the motions automatic, familiar. He had done this before—grabbed her whiskey, poured his own brandy, settled in like it was just another night, just another conversation.
But tonight, nothing about this was routine.
His mind wasn’t here, wasn’t on the drinks in his hands or the comfortable quiet of his apartment. It was back at the arcade, at the way she had smiled at him when he asked her back here. It was back in that ring, her body pressed against his, her breath uneven from the fight. It was at that taco stand, at the way her fingers had brushed over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy.
And now she was here. With him.
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, trying to ground himself. Focus. He grabbed both glasses and turned toward the living room, expecting to see her on the couch, waiting for him.
But that’s when he heard it. Her heart was racing.
He looked up, realizing she was no longer on the couch. She was standing by the end table, frozen, her entire body held too still. And in her hands was the small holo of his mother.
He had almost forgotten about that thing, had barely looked at it in years. He wasn’t even sure why he kept it, only that he had never thrown it away. The crack along the casing was the same as it had always been, a relic of something half-remembered, something that hadn’t seemed important in a long time.
But Shepard wasn’t moving, just staring at it like it was something more than just an old piece of tech.
His steps faltered, the easy rhythm of the moment fracturing. He set the drinks down without thinking, instincts taking over as he closed the space between them. Something was wrong.
“Jane?” His voice was careful, controlled, but she didn’t respond.
She was still staring at the holo, fingers curled too tightly around it, her breath coming too shallow. Then her voice came, barely above a whisper. “Where did you get this?”
His chest tightened. The weight behind those words was heavier than he expected.
He reached out, his touch light on her arm, grounding her, steadying her. “Jane, what’s wrong?”
Then, slowly, she tilted it slightly, turning it toward the light, and the crack in the casing caught his eye.
A memory stirred, old, hazy around the edges but still there.
She pressed a button. The holo came to life, the static-filled image flickering before settling. And there she was—the image of his mother, the one frozen in time. It had been years since he had turned this on.
“Garrus, where did you get this?” she pressed.
Garrus swallowed, his voice quieter now, more careful. “Jane, what’s wrong? It’s just a holo. Are you alright?”
Before she could even react to his question, his body tensed. Realization slammed into him. He knew what Shepard was seeing, or rather remembering.
It can’t be…
The little girl. The one with messy red hair and big green eyes. The one who had stuck out her hand without hesitation, had helped him expecting nothing in return. The one who had looked up at him with a smile and said “I’m Jane.”
His breath hitched.
He watched her fingers tighten around the holo. Then she turned to look at him, really look at him. Her lips parted slightly, her throat working as if trying to form the words.
“It was you.”
Garrus went completely still.
The moment stretched, her words hanging between them, their weight shifting everything, tilting his entire world sideways. Suddenly, all of it made sense.
The familiarity, the ease between them, the way she had always known him too well, the way he had always known her—because he did. They had met before. Somehow, through all the odds in the universe, the little girl from that memory was standing here, in his apartment, wearing that dress, looking at him like he was something impossible.
And she was unraveling. Her hands were still shaking, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps.
She needed him.
That realization hit him harder than anything else. He moved before he could think, before he could second-guess it. He reached for her, pulled her into his arms, and held on.
She stiffened—just for a second. Then, all at once, she collapsed into him, her hands clutching his tunic like she needed something real, something solid to hold onto.
And damn, she was warm. Too warm.
His hands pressed lightly against the bare skin of her back, his talons grazing just enough to feel the heat of her.
Spirits. The way her body fit against his. The way she sighed against his throat—he was losing it.
He tightened his grip just slightly, anchoring her, grounding her. “Just breathe,” he murmured, his voice low, steady. “I’ve got you, Jane.”
Her heartbeat was still too fast. Her breathing still uneven. But she was settling.
And yet… she was too damn close.
His fingers flexed, the warmth of her skin beneath his hands making his throat go dry. The scent of her, cinnamon and coconut, clouded his senses.
He wasn’t thinking about what this was supposed to be anymore. Wasn’t thinking about anything. Then she pulled back just enough to look at him.
Her eyes searched his face, wide and uncertain and wanting.
And then she kissed him.
The world around them faded.
Garrus had been through plenty of firefights. He had faced mercenaries, terrorists, taken on thresher maws, and even stood toe-to-toe with a krogan warlord once. But none of that had prepared him for this.
For her.
For the way she suddenly surged forward, closing the distance between them without hesitation, without a single second of doubt.
The second her lips met his, everything in him stopped. His breath, his thoughts, the barely restrained chaos in his chest—it all stilled, caught in the impossible reality that this was happening. That she was kissing him.
Then instinct took over.
His hands tightened their grip on her before he could even think about it, his talons pressing just slightly into the soft, exposed skin between the straps of her dress. He felt the shudder that ran through her, the way her fingers curled against his chest, the faint, breathless sound she made when he pulled her closer.
And just like that, he was gone. Overwhelmed by the warmth of her body, the softness of her mouth against his—he hadn’t expected it to feel like this. Hadn’t realized how right it would feel to hold her like this, to finally give in to everything he had been trying to ignore.
Because this was the woman who had become his closest friend, the woman who made him laugh, who challenged him, who trusted him implicitly. The woman who had always been at the center of his thoughts even when he hadn’t let himself admit why.
And now? Now there was no pretending. No running.
His hands tightened on her back, and he kissed her like he’d been starving for it. Because maybe he had.
She responded instantly, pressing into him, her fingers sliding up to curl against the plates at the back of his neck. The sheer intimacy of it nearly undid him.
He needed her closer.
His grip shifted, hands sliding lower, pulling her against him, and spirits help him, she fit perfectly. Her body was still impossibly warm, and she tilted her head just slightly, deepening the kiss—and that was it.
A low growl rumbled in his chest before he could stop it—something raw, entirely unrestrained. He barely caught himself before pressing her back against the nearest wall.
He forced himself to stop. Pulled back just slightly—enough to breathe, to think. He leaned his forehead against hers. Both of them were breathing hard, neither moving away.
What the hell had they just done?
His heart was hammering against his ribs, his body still aching to close the space between them again, but he forced himself to stay still, to focus. Because this was Jane.
And he had no idea if this was something she would regret in the morning.
He could still feel her hands against him, gripping the edges of his cowl like she wasn’t ready to let go yet. But she wasn’t saying anything.
And that silence? It terrified him.
He swallowed, his voice lower than usual when he finally spoke. “Jane…”
He felt her exhale against him, the warmth of it brushing against his skin before she finally lifted her head enough to meet his eyes. He had never seen her look like this before.
Her pupils were blown wide, her lips just slightly parted, her breath still uneven, and for the first time in his life, he couldn’t read her.
Couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
Shepard
For a moment, the world had stopped. The only thing that existed was the heat of his hands, the weight of his body against hers, the way he kissed her like he had been starving for it.
And she wanted it. All of it. She wanted him.
But then he stopped.
Not completely—he was still close, forehead against hers, breath still uneven—but he wasn’t moving. Wasn’t pulling her in the way he had just seconds ago.
Her stomach twisted.
No.
She had miscalculated. Pushed too far. The realization hit like a gunshot to the chest. She had acted without thinking, lost in the moment, lost in him. And now? Now she could see the hesitation creeping into his eyes.
Shit.
She swallowed hard, her hands slipping away from his cowl, putting distance where she hadn’t wanted any before. The warmth of his body was still pressed against her, but she felt it now—the uncertainty, the doubt.
It hurt.
She forced herself to step back, her chest tightening. This was a mistake. She should have known better. Should have—
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, voice barely above a whisper.
She turned to go, needing distance, needing to breathe.
But she didn’t make it two steps before he grabbed her wrist. “Sorry for what?”
His voice was rough, confused, like he had no idea what she was talking about.
Shepard exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have…pushed you.”
That’s what had happened, right? She’d been reckless, impulsive, put him in an impossible situation.
Garrus had told her before he wasn’t into humans.
She had just chosen to forget that when his arms were around her, when his hands pressed against her back.
His grip on her tightened slightly, just enough to make her look at him.
His gaze searched hers, the blue of his eyes sharp and too damn piercing, like he was trying to figure out what had just gone through her mind.
Then, softer, he shook his head. “Jane, you didn’t push me.”
She froze.
Something in his voice—honest, raw—sent a slow, aching relief through her chest.
Her lips parted, uncertain. But before she could say anything, he stepped closer, pulling her hands back to him, not letting her slip away.
“You didn’t push me,” he repeated, his voice lower now, like he was grounding himself in the words. Then quieter, almost to himself: “Spirits, I wish you had sooner.”
Her breath hitched. “But….you said—”
“I know.” He interrupted, sighing.
His hands slid down, fingers curling against her hips, holding her like he needed her to understand, to believe him.
“Jane, I didn’t go home with my date because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, voice rough, words pressing right into her ribs. “I kissed her and all I could see was you.”
Shepard’s entire body stilled.
He exhaled, jaw clenching like he was fighting through the last of whatever had been holding him back. Then he let it go.
“I want this,” he said, eyes darkening. “I want you.”
She made a sound—soft, breathless, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh of relief. Then, before she could think, she was moving, hands grabbing at him, pulling him back in.
Garrus met her halfway. This time, he didn’t stop.
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her flush against him as his mouth met hers again. The heat between them surged—demanding, reckless. Her fingers slid up the ridges of his jaw, into the plates at the back of his neck. He growled against her mouth, tilting his head, deepening the kiss, his talons digging into the bare skin of her back where her dress left her open to him.
And spirits, she wanted to drown in this.
His hands slid down to her thighs, wrapping around them and lifting her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he moved, pressing her against the nearest wall. She barely noticed, barely cared—his mouth was everywhere, along her jaw, at the edge of her throat, his breath hot against her skin. She tilted her head, giving him more access, shivering when his teeth grazed her pulse point.
Her head was spinning, but not enough. Not yet.
His hands were strong, certain—one gripping her thigh, the other cradling the side of her face, holding her steady as he kissed her like he wasn’t ever going to stop.
And then—
Her omni-tool chirped. Loud. Incessant.
No. No, no, no, no…
She ignored it. She wasn’t stopping. Not now.
Garrus groaned in frustration, pressing his forehead to hers as he caught his breath.
The omni-tool chirped again.
Garrus growled. “I swear, I’m going to kill Joker.”
Shepard sighed, forehead still resting against his. “That’s not Joker.”
She didn’t move—still held against the wall, still wrapped around him.
The third chirp finally displayed the incoming transmission.
Udina.
Garrus saw the name the same time she did.
“…You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
Garrus let out a slow breath, muttering what sounded like curses in at least three different languages before finally saying, “Answer it.”
Shepard groaned, dropping her head against his shoulder before finally, reluctantly, tapping her omni-tool. She tried to steady herself, but she was still breathless.
Udina’s voice cut through immediately. “Shepard. Good, you’re awake.”
Garrus smirked against her ear. “Awake… That’s one word for it.”
Shepard glared at him, clearing her throat before answering, “It’s the middle of the night, Ambassador.”
“Then I trust you don’t have more pressing plans.”
Garrus snorted, gripping her thighs tighter.
She kicked his leg lightly in response, then sighed. “Of course not, Ambassador. What can I do for you?”
“The Council has requested your presence. Something urgent. Come to the Embassy immediately.”
Shepard gritted her teeth. “Of course. I’m on my way.”
The transmission cut out, leaving only silence between them.
Shepard sighed, then finally looked back at Garrus. Still completely wrapped up in him, his hands around her thighs, his body pressed against hers.
Then, suddenly he grinned, nuzzling her neck. “And this,” he murmured, voice low, “is why my last two dates failed.”
Shepard blinked. Then, before she could stop it, she laughed, really laughed, the tension melting for just a second.
“Wait, you’re blaming me for your failed dates?” she asked, amused.
Garrus shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Absolutely.”
She shook her head, grinning.
Their hands lingered. Neither moved away.
Then, finally, Garrus exhaled, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before reluctantly setting her back on her feet.
“Come on,” he said, his voice still rough, still laced with something undeniable.
“Let’s go find out what the Council wants.”
Shepard
The air between them was lighter than it should have been, considering the absolute chaos and confusion the last hour had been.
But maybe that was just them.
“…it would be good for her to… relax…”
She chuckled thinking back to dinner. Almost.
Shepard exhaled, adjusting her jacket over her shoulders, still acutely aware of the lingering heat of his hands on her skin. The city lights stretched long shadows over the walkways, the glow of the nebula buzzing softly with life.
And here they were—hand in hand, walking like nothing had changed, like everything hadn’t just changed.
“Should I even ask what’s going through that devious mind of yours, Vakarian?” she teased, giving his fingers a slight squeeze.
Garrus huffed out something close to a laugh, tilting his head toward her. “Oh, you really don’t want to know.”
She smirked, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. “That bad, huh?”
His mandibles twitched, the way they always did when he was pretending to be exasperated with her. “Let’s just say that my plans for tonight were wildly different than how things actually played out.”
Shepard arched a brow, feigning innocence. “Oh? You mean getting half-undressed against a wall and being interrupted by a call from Udina wasn’t your ideal evening?”
Garrus made a sound in the back of his throat, something between a groan and a growl. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Oh…you mean you weren’t planning to get undressed with me?” She teased.
Garrus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Most infuriating woman…”
She chuckled, watching his mandibles twitch again. “Well, I’m dying to hear what’s on your mind then.”
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Honestly?”
She nodded, grinning.
He glanced at her, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he finally spoke. “The night of the concert. I—” He exhaled, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. “I thought you were leaving with Sean.”
Shepard blinked. That was not what she expected him to say.
She slowed her steps, turning to look at him fully. “Wait. You actually thought—” She laughed, shaking her head. “Garrus, Sean and I haven’t been anything for over a decade.”
His mandibles flared slightly, and there was something almost sheepish about the way he rolled his shoulders. “Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly discouraging the rumors and photo ops.”
Shepard chuckled. “I tag along occasionally when I happen to be around, so that he doesn’t arrive alone. Rumors surround Sean, I don’t pay attention to them. And for that matter, I’m pretty sure there are more rumors and bets going around about us right now than about Sean and me.”
Garrus snorted, his grip on her hand still firm, still steady. “Fair point.”
She glanced at him, something softer settling into her expression. “Besides… I left with you that night.”
That made him pause. Just for a second. His mandibles flickered, like he was processing something he’d known but hadn’t quite let himself think about.
“I know,” he said quietly. “That was definitely confusing but also—” He exhaled. “Comforting.”
Shepard tilted her head, watching him. “Confusing how?”
Garrus shook his head, like he was still trying to figure out how to explain it. “You were there with Sean. You looked—” He stopped himself, mandibles twitching. “You looked incredible. And I kept telling myself it didn’t matter because you were there with him. Then suddenly you were alone, then you asked me to dance. And then you asked if I wanted to get out of there.”
She felt her chest tighten at the rawness in his voice.
“I thought you were with Seris,” she admitted softly.
Garrus huffed out a breath. “I was. Technically.”
Shepard winced slightly. “I’m sorry I interrupted that, by the way.”
He turned to look at her fully, something almost amused flickering in his eyes. “Jane, you have nothing to apologize for. Trust me.”
She arched a brow. “You sure? Because I’m pretty sure she wanted to make good on her threat to arrest me after I ruined her night.”
That made him laugh—genuinely. “Yeah, her messages the next day were more…pointed than usual. But that wasn’t your fault.” His expression softened. “Is that why you hadn’t told me how you felt? Because of Seris?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “No, not really. It was because of what you said. About not being attracted to humans.”
He froze, then exhaled “Right…that.” Garrus let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Consciously? I never have been. But that night—” He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “That night, I realized I was falling for you. And I didn’t know what to do with that. Because I didn’t think we were a possibility. And I wasn’t about to risk our friendship for some… horrible interspecies-awkwardness thing.”
Shepard blinked. Then, despite herself, she laughed.
“What?” Garrus asked, mandibles flicking in confusion.
“interspecies-awkwardness thing?” she asked, grinning. “You realize it’s not that awkward?”
He groaned, but there was affection in it. “I do now.”
She watched him for a long moment, the ease of his presence settling something deep in her chest.
They were them. Even now. Even after everything.
The thought made her smile.
And suddenly, their interrupted night wasn’t so bad. She was certain this wouldn’t be the last chance she’d have to continue what they started.
Shepard
Shepard felt the shift immediately.
The walk to the embassy had been light, easy, the tension from earlier slipping into something familiar—something theirs. But the second she stepped into the room and saw Anderson and Udina speaking with the Council, reality settled back into place.
This was it. This was business.
She exchanged a glance with Garrus—he nodded slightly, already settling into the same mindset. Whatever this was, it was important.
“Commander Shepard, good, you’re here,” Udina said, impatience laced through his voice as he glanced over at Garrus.
“Ambassador. Captain.” She nodded toward both of them before turning to the holographic projection of the Council.
Tevos was the first to speak. “Commander Shepard, we’ve received information that may be critical to your mission against Saren.”
Shepard straightened, her pulse kicking up slightly. She glanced at Garrus again before focusing. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
Valern leaned forward, his tone measured but urgent. “We’ve received an urgent message from one of our infiltration regiments in the Traverse.”
Shepard crossed her arms, brow furrowing. “I’m listening.”
There was a pause. A beat too long.
Dramatic effect? Or are they stalling?
Valern finally continued. “We currently have several infiltration units scattered throughout the border regions of Citadel space. This particular unit was gathering intel on Saren.”
Shepard’s jaw clenched slightly. “What did they find?”
Another pause. Another hesitation.
“Unfortunately, the message we received was little more than static,” Valern admitted. “The infiltration team must be in a situation where they can’t establish proper interstellar communications.”
Shepard exhaled through her nose, feeling the weight of it. A mission-critical transmission. Scrambled. But the fact that it had been sent meant something.
She knew, deep in her gut, that this was it. They were getting closer.
“The message was sent on a priority channel,” Valern continued. “Whatever they were trying to tell us, we know it was important.”
“Considering your interest in Saren, we thought you might want to investigate,” Tevos added, voice smooth and diplomatic. “Find out what happened to our team. The signal originated from the planet Virmire.”
Shepard’s fingers twitched slightly at her sides before she nodded. “I’ll look into it.”
“The Council prefers not to become involved in the specifics of Spectre activities,” Tevos continued, in that same detached, calculated tone. “We only want you to be aware of all your options—including Virmire.”
Shepard barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. No matter what she did, no matter what she said, the Council always seemed to find a way to subtly remind her of how little faith they had in her.
But she didn’t take the bait. Not this time.
“Good luck, Commander Shepard,” Tevos said, inclining her head. “We will keep you advised if we learn anything else.”
With that, the transmission cut out.
Shepard turned to Garrus, already moving. “We have a lead. Get a hold of Joker, have him get everyone back to the Normandy by 0900.”
“You got it, Shepard,” Garrus said, already tapping his omni-tool as he strode out of the room.
Udina barely let a breath pass before he cut in, his expression severe. “Don’t let us down, Shepard. This needs to be flawless. And Commander, if you run into any more rachni queens, try not to release them this time.”
She met his gaze evenly, not bothering to dignify the comment with a response. Instead, she just watched as he turned and stalked off.
Anderson, however, lingered.
There was something knowing in his expression as he glanced in the direction Garrus had gone. Then he smirked slightly. “Seems like Garrus has adapted well to being part of the Normandy crew.”
Shepard rolled her eyes. “He’s a good second. I know I can rely on him. The crew relies on him.”
Anderson made a thoughtful sound. “Hmm. Of course.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly, but before she could question him, he clapped a hand on her shoulder.
“Good luck, Shepard,” he said, voice warm but firm. “Stay safe.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened.
She exhaled slowly, shaking off the moment before turning on her heel.
She had a turian to find.
Garrus
The Citadel stretched before them, bathed in the glow of nebula. The streets were quieter now, the usual bustle of the Wards tapering into something slower, softer.
But Shepard was quiet.
Not in a distant way. Not like she was pulling away. But like her mind was running ahead of them both, already calculating the next step, already trying to anticipate what was coming.
Garrus had spent enough time at her side to recognize it. The shift in her posture, the subtle furrow of her brow. The way her fingers tapped against her thigh, the same rhythm she always fell into when she was thinking.
The weight of Virmire was already settling over her. Over both of them.
Garrus watched her for a moment, debating whether to say anything. Whether to leave her to her thoughts or—
“You know this changes things, right?” He hadn’t meant to say it quite like that. Hadn’t meant to make it sound so final. But there it was. Hanging between them, heavy and undeniable.
Shepard’s steps slowed just slightly. Then she looked at him. And for the first time since the Embassy, he saw it.
She’s worried.
Not about the mission. Not about Virmire. But about this. About them.
The realization hit him harder than he expected.
She had always been certain. Always so sure of herself, of everything she did. But now? Now, there was something unspoken in the way she looked at him, in the way her lips parted just slightly before she hesitated—like she wasn’t sure if she should say whatever had just crossed her mind.
And Garrus hated that uncertainty.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly, trying to ease the tension he hadn’t even realized was creeping into his own body.
“Jane,” he said, softer now. “You know I’m with you. No matter what happens.”
She blinked, just once. Then she nodded, the barest hint of relief flickering behind her eyes.
“I know,” she murmured.
They kept walking, neither in a hurry to reach their separate destinations, but both knowing they had to. But before they knew it, they were standing at the place where their paths split.
She had to head back to her grandmother’s apartment. He needed to return to his own. This night wasn’t going to move forward—not with everything waiting for them in the morning.
They both knew it.
She had to pack. They had to be on the Normandy earlier than expected. Virmire was waiting.
Garrus let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She nodded, shifting her weight, something flickering behind her eyes.
He turned, walking away, but before he could go too far Jane’s voice stopped him.
“Garrus.”
He barely had time to register the urgency in her voice before she was moving.
She closed the distance between them too fast, throwing her arms around him. Her hands sliding up to his fringe, pulling him down toward her.
She kissed him.
And spirits help him, he melted into it.
She was warm. Solid. Everything he didn’t realize he had been waiting for.
Her lips moved against his with certainty, with intent, with purpose. It wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t rushed, it was deliberate.
Because she wasn’t just kissing him to see if this was real. She wasn’t second-guessing. She wasn’t wondering if this had been a mistake.
No. This was confirmation.
This was her telling him that everything that happened tonight?
She meant it.
When she finally pulled back, her breath was warm against his lips, her hands teasing his neck like she wasn’t quite ready to let go yet.
She smirked, just slightly, just enough to soften the edges of the moment. “See you in the morning.”
Then she turned, walking away before he could even begin to process her absence. He just stood there, watching her go, his hand coming up to touch his mouth as if he could still feel her lips against his.
Spirits help him.
Morning couldn’t come fast enough.