Garrus
The mess hall was quiet this late. Most of the crew had already turned in, leaving the space dimly lit and still, save for the faint hum of the Normandy’s systems in the background. Garrus wasn’t much for sleep—not anymore. Years at C-Sec had taught him to function on irregular hours, and now, with the weight of a real mission on his shoulders, rest was the last thing on his mind.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one.
Shepard was sitting alone at one of the tables, a small tumbler in her hand, filled with amber liquid that caught the dim light. Her uniform jacket was unzipped at the collar, sleeves pushed up, posture loose but not relaxed. Her head turned slightly as he stepped in, like she’d sensed him before she’d seen him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.
Garrus shrugged, making his way toward the table. “Never do. Not much, anyway.”
“Yeah,” she exhaled, swirling the whiskey in her glass. “Know the feeling.”
She stood, making her way to a storage compartment, pulling out a bottle with turian script on the label. He recognized it immediately—Relay Brandy?
She set it on the table and nodded toward it. “Figured you might want something that won’t kill you.”
Garrus chuckled as he sat across from her. “Thoughtful of you.” He eyed the bottle, then the glass in her hand. “What are you drinking?”
Shepard smirked, lifting the tumbler slightly. “Rye whiskey.”
He tilted his head, considering. He wasn’t unfamiliar with human alcohol—he knew some of it hit turians badly, but whiskey? He wasn’t sure.
And yet, something about it piqued his curiosity.
“What’s it taste like?” he asked.
Before Garrus could reach for the bottle of turian brandy, Shepard slid her own glass across the table.
“Here. Before I pour you a glass, take a second with this.”
Garrus tilted his head, looking from the whiskey to Shepard. “You trying to kill me before I even get the bottle open?”
She chuckled. “Just humor me, Garrus. You’re the one who asked what it tasted like.”
He sighed, picking up the tumbler. The scent hit him immediately—strong, deeper than he expected. Sweet, with caramel and something spiced—cinnamon. Beneath it, a warm, nutty edge—like roasted kasul bark.
Then, the burn—the distinct smokiness that warned him this was going to be a punch to the senses.
Shepard leaned forward, watching him with something close to amusement. “What do you get?”
He turned the glass slightly in his hand, inhaling again. “Caramel. Cinnamon. Something else—nutty? And definitely smoke.”
She gave him a look—part impressed, part entertained. “Not bad. And here I thought you just inhaled dextro-protein paste and called it a day.”
Garrus huffed out a quiet chuckle, mandibles flicking in amusement. “I do have taste, Jane. It just usually involves turian brandy. Or sushi.”
She smirked, reaching for the bottle. “Alright, you’ve earned your own.” She poured him a measure of the whiskey, sliding the glass toward him. “Now, let’s see if your taste holds up.”
He hesitated for half a second, then picked it up.
“Well,” he mused, “if this kills me, at least we’re right outside the med bay.”
Shepard grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
Garrus paused, exhaled through his nose and took a sip.
It burned—sharp, strong, and definitely not turian brandy. His throat clenched, and he barely managed to suppress a cough as the smoky finish kicked in.
Shepard, to her credit, didn’t laugh outright, but the smirk pulling at her lips was impossible to miss.
“Not bad?” she echoed, amusement in her tone.
Garrus blinked a few times, clearing his throat. “It’s… different.”
Shepard grinned, already reaching toward a nearby storage compartment. “I could throw some ice in it. Changes the taste, smooths the burn a little.”
He exhaled, shaking his head. “I think my throat is still recovering from the first sip.”
“It burns more when it’s cold. At least, I think so.”
Garrus tilted his head. “That’s not how things work, Jane.”
She chuckled, grabbing a couple of ice cubes and dropping them into a spare glass. “Tell that to my throat the first time I tried it on the rocks.”
He smirked, tipping the rest of his whiskey into the new glass. The ice crackled, shifting as the amber liquid cooled. He took another sip—less burn, but the smoke lingered.
“Huh.” He set the glass down. “I can see why you’d think that.”
“Told you.” Shepard leaned back, looking far too pleased with herself.
For a moment, they just sat there, the quiet between them surprisingly comfortable.
Then Garrus leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
“So,” he said, “what’s it like growing up with him?”
Before she could respond, the med bay doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Dr. Chakwas stepped out, rolling her shoulders slightly, her sharp gaze sweeping the room before settling on them. She raised an eyebrow.
“Commander, I do believe I’ve interrupted a private tasting.”
Shepard grinned, motioning for the chair across from her “Not at all. We were just testing Garrus’ tolerance for human whiskey.”
Chakwas hummed, stepping closer. “Ah. Well, if he hasn’t keeled over yet, I’d say he’s safe.” She reached down, picking up the bottle on the table and turning it slightly. “BH-230 Dark Rye… sounds lovely.”
Shepard nudged an empty glass toward her. “You’re more than welcome to some.”
Chakwas smiled, pouring herself a small measure. She lifted the glass to her nose, inhaling slowly before taking a thoughtful sip.
“Mmm. Caramel. A touch of berries.” She set the glass down with a quiet hum. “And a rather smooth finish, all things considered.”
Garrus huffed. “That’s what you call smooth?”
Shepard chuckled. “Just stick around with me for a bit. You’ll develop a taste for it.”
Chakwas smirked slightly, taking another sip before glancing between them. “So, what’s keeping the two of you up? I somehow doubt it’s just a newfound appreciation for whiskey.”
Garrus tapped his fingers idly against his glass before tilting his head toward Shepard. “Actually, I was asking about her father.”
Chakwas raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I’ve heard rumors, but I never quite got the details.”
Before Shepard could respond, the doors to the elevator slid open. Joker strolled in, pausing as he spotted them gathered around the table.
“Well, this looks cozy.” He grinned, making his way over. “Didn’t realize we were throwing a party.”
Shepard smirked. “Mess hall’s open, Joker. We don’t turn away strays.”
Garrus couldn’t help but notice the way Jane seemed to relax with Joker and Dr. Chakwas, almost as if she didn’t see them the same way she viewed the rest of her crew.
Joker snorted. “Oh, now you say that. Where was that generosity when I asked for an extra pillow?”
Chakwas, with a deadpan tone “You have plenty of pillows, Joker.”
“I could always use more.” He eyed the bottle on the table, then nodded approvingly. “BH-230 Dark Rye? Damn, Commander, didn’t know you had taste.”
“I’m sure there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Joker. Stick around, you may find out even more.” Shepard teased, as she pushed an empty glass towards him.
“She’s been educating me on human whiskey,” Garrus said dryly, as he swirled his glass.
Joker grinned. “So, that’s why I heard you choking earlier.” He said as he poured himself a glass.
“Alright, Jane,” Garrus said with a teasing lilt to his tone, “no more avoiding the question. What was he like?”
Shepard exhaled, resting her elbows on the table. “I’m not sure what rumors or stories you’ve heard. Mostly I always hear the assumptions.”
“What are we talking about?” Joker asked curiously.
“Shepard’s father.” Dr. Chakwas replied then turned her gaze back to Shepard, “That’s not surprising. I imagine most people struggle to wrap their heads around the idea of a human being raised by a turian.”
Joker, mid-sip, suddenly choked, coughing violently. “Wait—what?”
Garrus smirked, mandibles twitching. “Should’ve warned you first, huh?”
Joker wiped his mouth. “Did you just say turian? Commander, please tell me I’m sleep-deprived and hallucinating, because I could’ve sworn—”
Shepard grinned. “My father is a turian.”
Joker stared. “And you just… casually drop that over whiskey?”
Shepard shrugged. “Most people don’t need to give warning when talking about their family. Strange that it’s strange.”
Joker shook his head. “This just raised so many questions.”
Shepard smirked. “You should pace yourself. We’ve got time.”
Garrus leaned forward slightly. “What was it like, though? I mean, I met him, but I imagine growing up with him was… an experience.”
Shepard let out a low chuckle. “You have no idea.”
Chakwas, clearly intrigued, propped her chin on her hand. “Now this I have to hear.”
Shepard sighed, shaking her head with a small grin. “It was… different. Not bad, just different. My mother was around when she could be, but my dad was the constant. And he never treated me like I was different, human. I was just his kid.”
Garrus considered that. Maybe that was why Shepard moved so easily between cultures—why she understood turians better than most humans he’d met.
Shepard’s expression softened slightly as she continued. “He was strict, but fair. Always had a lesson for everything. And I swear, I’ve never seen a man so capable of intimidating someone with just a look.”
Garrus chuckled. “Yeah, I can believe that.”
“So… guessing the dating scene wasn’t exactly booming?” Joker teased
Shepard laughed, “Oh spirits, no. Most certainly didn’t stick around long.”
Garrus observed Shepard carefully as the night stretched on. She seemed more at ease here, in this moment, with them. No pretense, no walls—just conversation and quiet understanding. Chakwas and Joker treated him no differently than they treated her, and he found himself appreciating that more than he expected. There was no hesitation, no wariness, no distinction made between him and the humans sitting beside him. Just familiarity.
As they laughed and traded stories, Garrus realized something else—Shepard was a rare kind of leader. The kind who made the people around her feel like they belonged.
And he was certain now he had found somewhere he belonged.
Garrus
Over the next couple of days, Garrus threw himself into his work, examining the Mako. They wouldn’t reach Therum for another day, which meant he had time to figure out what he was dealing with. He knew these vehicles were designed to take a beating, mass-produced to be tough and functional—but that was about all they had going for them. Their handling? Awful. Their suspension? A joke. Their center of gravity? A hazard. The damn things were built like they were trying to kill their own crew.
He’d rather not be inside one when that inevitably happened.
Garrus sighed, rolling out from under the Mako as he wiped his hands against a rag. The hours had slipped by, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen her all day.
Probably busy running a ship, he mused.
Not that he was keeping track.
As he shifted his position, he caught sight of Williams. Again. She was at the workbench across from him, arms folded as if she were deeply engrossed in whatever maintenance she was doing. Except, he’d been here for hours, and she hadn’t touched a single tool.
She was watching him.
Not openly, of course, she was careful about that. But every time he moved, every time he adjusted a component or inspected the armor plating, her gaze flicked to him. Studying him. Judging him.
Garrus didn’t need to be a detective to figure out exactly how she felt about him being here.
Not my problem.
If Williams had an issue with him, she could take it up with Shepard. He was here because she wanted him here, and that was all that mattered.
A familiar voice pulled his focus back. “So, Garrus, find anything wrong with the Mako yet?”
He turned to find her standing a few steps back, arms crossed, that smirk already playing at the corner of her lips. It was unfair how quickly he was starting to recognize her moods.
He chuckled. “There’s always something wrong with these when they’re manufactured. They do it quickly—mass production. And they’re good enough for most situations.”
“But…” she pressed, raising an eyebrow.
“Here,” he motioned for her to step forward. “Let me show you this, Jane.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You know I’m not a mechanic, right?”
Garrus laughed, mandibles twitching. “You’re saying I have something to teach you?”
“Probably a few things, Garrus.”
He blinked, caught off guard. It wasn’t that he thought Shepard was arrogant—far from it—but she had an undeniable air of competence, the kind of confidence that came with being the best at what she did. To hear her so readily admit that he might have something to teach her? That surprised him more than he wanted to admit.
And, if he was being honest… it made him a little proud.
He motioned for her to follow him as he crouched down. “Alright, come here.”
She dropped to her knees beside him, then followed as he lay on his back beneath the Mako.
The space was cramped, metal panels looming just inches above them, but Shepard didn’t seem to mind. She adjusted easily, hands resting behind her head as she turned to look at him.
“Alright, Vakarian, what’s the lesson?”
Garrus smirked. “Suspension.” He tapped a talon against the undercarriage. “See this? This is your first problem.”
She squinted. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”
Garrus huffed a chuckle, his voice taking on a tone of mock patience. “Alright, Jane. The problem is that the current suspension is built to absorb direct impacts—but it’s rigid. Unforgiving. That’s why these things flip like a varren on ice the moment they hit bad terrain.”
Shepard laughed, shaking her head. “That’s a visual.”
He grinned. “I have more.”
He continued his explanation, pointing out where reinforcement would help and how recalibrating the weight distribution might keep them from tumbling ass-over-end every time they hit a rock at the wrong angle. She listened, not just humoring him, but actually listening, asking questions here and there, like she was genuinely considering how to implement his suggestions.
And maybe it was the whiskey from the night before talking, but he liked this. This easy back-and-forth, this sense that she respected his expertise.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that.
Garrus was about to continue when her laugh suddenly echoed in the confined space beneath the Mako. It was a real one—light, amused, unrestrained.
And that was exactly when Kaidan interrupted.
“Didn’t realize engineering lessons came with entertainment,” Kaidan’s voice drifted in from above, his tone light but laced with something else—something tense.
Garrus turned his head slightly, catching Shepard’s immediate shift in posture. It was subtle—her body language didn’t stiffen exactly, but something about her went more… composed. She tilted her head to look at Kaidan.
“The best teachers always entertain,” she said coolly, a faint smirk still tugging at her lips. “That’s how you know you’re learning something.”
Kaidan gave a dry half-smile, but it didn’t hide the edge in his voice
“Maybe. But some of us are better off not pretending to be mechanics.”
Garrus didn’t miss that. He wasn’t stupid.
He’d seen that expression before, that carefully neutral mask, the way Kaidan’s shoulders were just a little too squared. He recognized the look.
Jealousy.
Not overt—Kaidan wasn’t challenging him, not outright. But the unspoken tension was there, just beneath the surface.
But what caught Garrus more off guard was the dig—not at him, but at her. Subtle, buried in the casual tone, but clear enough. An implication that Shepard had better things to do than crawl under the Mako, that she wasn’t where she should be.
And that? That was worse. She was his commander, and if Kaidan had doubts about her judgment, he could take them to her in private, behind closed doors. That’s what you did. Not this… This quiet, public barb.
Was this normal on a human ship? For subordinates to challenge their CO’s attention like it was theirs to manage?
Beside him, Shepard’s tone shifted. It was slight, but Garrus caught it immediately—the subtle move from relaxed to professional, from playful to perfectly composed. She wasn’t cold, but she was careful now. As if a line existed between her and Kaidan that she had no intention of crossing.
She pushed herself out from under the Mako and dusted off her uniform. Smirked like nothing had changed. “Is there something you need, Kaidan?”
Kaidan hesitated, just for a beat. “Wanted to go over the team assignments before we hit Therum. Make sure we’re clear on our squad rotations.”
Shepard nodded. “Alright. Let’s go over it in the comm room.”
She turned back to Garrus, expression still light but no longer unguarded. “Appreciate the lesson, Vakarian.”
He grinned. “Anytime, Shepard.”
And just like that, the moment was gone.
As she and Kaidan walked off, Garrus lingered under the Mako, staring up at the suspension.
He had no reason to care—this wasn’t his business.
But still…
He tapped a talon against the metal, thoughtful. Something was there.
He just didn’t know what yet.
Shepard
Shepard had opted to take Garrus and Wrex with her to Therum. Between Garrus’ precision and Wrex’s sheer force, she figured the mix would give them a balance of controlled marksmanship and raw power.
Kaidan’s reaction when she told him had been predictable. A flicker of tension in his jaw, a slight squaring of his shoulders. He hadn’t outright protested, but the hesitation in his voice when he simply said “Understood, Commander” had spoken volumes.
But Kaidan knew his place. And he knew she wasn’t about to justify her decisions.
The moment they hit uneven terrain, Shepard knew she had made a mistake.
“This thing is a nightmare,” she muttered, gripping the controls as the Mako bounced violently over the rough ground. It was like trying to drive a brick with rockets—the slightest incline sent it skidding sideways, the steering was stiff, and who the hell designed this suspension?
Now she fully understood what Garrus had been explaining earlier. The way the vehicle pitched, the sluggish response—it was exactly what he’d described, only worse.
She ground her teeth as they hit another dip and the entire vehicle lurched. “Spirits, I’m not doing this anymore. You drive this thing,” she growled, turning to Garrus as she released the controls. “You were right. This is… bad.”
She saw his mandibles twitch in amusement. “The great Commander Shepard defeated by a Mako?” he teased, moving to take the controls.
Shepard shot him a glare. “Laugh it up, Garrus.”
Wrex, for his part, just grinned. His deep, gravelly laugh rumbled through the cabin. “Hah! Finally, something that can stop the Commander.”
Then, the sharp roar of engines overhead made them all freeze.
“Ship incoming, Commander,” Joker’s voice crackled over comms. “No details on what it is.”
Shepard’s eyes snapped up to the sky as the dark silhouette of a ship streaked across the horizon. A moment later, Geth drop-pods slammed into the ground ahead of them.
Figures.
“Thanks, Joker. We saw it,” she responded, already bracing herself. “Let me know if any more ships drop in.”
The pod doors hissed open, and Geth troops stepped out, their optics flickering to life.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Shepard muttered. She switched seats, gripping the Mako’s main cannon. “Garrus, you drive. I’ll handle the guns.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Garrus replied, shifting the Mako into gear. “Driving doesn’t seem to be your strong suit, Shepard…”
Shepard let out a short chuckle despite herself.
She didn’t know why, but Garrus pointing out her flaws didn’t bother her. With him, it wasn’t mockery or judgment. It was just a fact. A matter of practicality.
That was… refreshing. He allowed her to feel human. He let her be just her, she didn’t need to impress him.
As they tore through enemy lines, Shepard quickly realized just how limited the Mako’s weapons were.
“Damn it, this heat sink is garbage,” she muttered as the cannon overheated yet again.
Garrus laughed. “I’ll be sure to look into that later, Commander.”
More Geth emerged from the cliffs ahead, their rockets streaking toward them.
“More rocket troopers ahead, Garrus—watch out.”
“See, Shepard?” Wrex rumbled, unloading his shotgun out the side hatch. “Told you you’d make this interesting.”
Shepard smirked. “Not the driving part, I assume.”
“Not the driving part,” Wrex confirmed, flashing a toothy grin.
They pushed forward, navigating through tunnels and tight passes, cutting down waves of Geth as they advanced.
Then, the canyon walls narrowed. Too tight for the Mako.
“Looks like we’re going on foot from here,” Shepard said, unbuckling and stepping out. “Move out.”
The resistance thickened the closer they got to the dig site. Clearly, Saren wasn’t the only one interested in Matriarch Benezia’s connections.
“Those jumping spider Geth are flanking us,” Shepard called, shifting behind cover and lining up a shot.
“Jumping spider?” Garrus quirked an eyebrow plate. “Do I need to ask?”
Shepard smirked, reloading her rifle. “I don’t know, Vakarian. Did you understand that?”
He hesitated. “…Yes.”
“Then it sounds like you don’t need to ask.” She glanced sideways at him, catching the way he tilted his head, considering.
Even when he didn’t understand, he understood her. And that was rare.
They cut through the last wave of Geth before reaching the inner ruin. Inside, the place was eerily quiet—sterile, towering white walls stretching into the darkness above them.
“I’ve never visited a Prothean ruin before,” Garrus mused, glancing around. “Aside from the Citadel, that is.”
Wrex huffed. “Sterile. White. Protheans sure build things homey.”
Shepard smirked. “Not your kind of place, Wrex?”
“Too clean…” Wrex muttered, shifting his grip on his shotgun.
Shepard exchanged a look with Garrus. Both of them shook their heads, smirking.
Then a voice echoed through the chamber.
“Uh… hello? Could someone help me? Please?”
Shepard’s brow furrowed. The voice was coming from below—somewhere deeper in the ruins.
Garrus motioned to Wrex first, signaling him to find a path down. Then he glanced toward Shepard and jerked his head slightly. Follow me.
Shepard nodded once. No words exchanged. No need.
As they descended, the voice grew clearer, revealing the Asari trapped behind a barrier.
Dr. Liara T’Soni.
“Can you hear me out there? I’m trapped. I need help.” She asked, finding Shepard’s gaze this time.
“I can. How did you end up there?” Shepard asked. Not only was Dr. T’Soni behind a barrier, she appeared to be held by some kind of force.
Shepard listened as Liara explained the situation. She had triggered defenses meant to keep intruders out, and now she was stuck. The only way forward was to carve a path around the barriers. She also told Shepard to watch out for the geth, who appeared to be with a krogan as well.
Shepard’s gaze swept the room, searching for options. That’s when she spotted it—a mining laser tucked just beyond the collapsed scaffolding. She opened her mouth to speak—but before she could—
“Way ahead of you, Shepard,” Garrus said, already moving toward it.
Shepard smirked. Of course, he was.
“Alright, Garrus,” she said, shifting position. “Get down there and see if you can activate it. I’ll stay up here and keep an eye out for any movement.”
As he descended, a twist of unease curled in her gut. It was too quiet. Too still.
Then—a glint of light. Movement. Her sniper rifle was up before she could think.
“Looks like it still has pow—” Garrus began, reaching the console—
Her shot cracked through the air. A Geth’s head snapped back, its body collapsing behind him.
“Garrus, we’ve got company. Get that mining laser up and running and get your ass back here. I’ll cover you.”
Her hands didn’t shake. Her heartbeat stayed steady.
But one thought pressed, sharp and cold at the back of her mind: Nothing gets to him. Not on my watch.
Garrus
Garrus hesitated, gripping his rifle tightly.
“There are too many Geth,” he warned, scanning the area. “You won’t be able to get them all.”
He was pinned behind cover, still working on activating the mining laser when the first Geth emerged from around the opposite side of the crate. He barely had time to react before the synthetic’s head exploded in a burst of white-blue light, collapsing lifelessly at his feet.
What the—
He hadn’t even heard a shot.
Before he could process what happened, another Geth was suddenly behind him, gripping his shoulder with cold, synthetic fingers. Garrus barely registered the pressure before another sharp crack split the air—and just like that, the Geth crumpled, collapsing at his feet.
He exhaled sharply, finally diving back into cover. He barely had time to steady his breathing before he heard it—shot after shot, every single one precise, controlled, and lethal. One after another, the Geth dropped.
Garrus turned his gaze toward Shepard’s position and felt his mandibles part slightly in quiet awe.
She was perched high, sniper rifle braced with an ease that spoke to both experience and instinct. She wasn’t missing. Every movement was efficient, precise—a master at work.
For a moment, he simply watched.
He had met many skilled snipers before. Hell, he was one. But there was something different about watching Shepard work. She wasn’t just shooting—she was controlling the battlefield. Dictating the flow of combat with unshakable confidence. It was as if the battlefield bent to her will.
Garrus had always prided himself on his marksmanship. But in this moment? He realized she rivaled—maybe even surpassed—him.
“Garrus, I need you to trust me!” Shepard’s voice cut through his comms, her tone sharp, but not unkind. “I could keep this up all day, but I’d prefer not to. Feel free to get your ass back here any time now!”
That snapped him out of it.
He immediately started moving, weaving through cover, sprinting when he could. A few stray shots clipped the air near him, but Shepard picked off any Geth that got too close. She was covering him.
When he finally dropped into cover beside her, she was still focused down her scope. Even as he caught his breath, she didn’t hesitate. Another shot. Another Geth down.
Garrus barely noticed.
He was still watching her.
Spirits… no wonder she’s a Spectre.
She finally lowered her rifle, surveying the field. When she was satisfied, she nodded sharply.
“We move. Now.”
Garrus fell in line, following her lead. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t question it.
They descended through the mining laser’s newly carved hole, navigating through the ruin until they reached an elevator.
“Is that an elevator?” Garrus asked.
“Looks like it,” Shepard replied, stepping forward. She barely examined the console before the elevator whirred to life.
“You seem quite adept at decryption and electronics…” Garrus noted. Not a question, just an observation.
Shepard turned to look at him, a smirk playing at her lips. “Don’t be too impressed, Garrus. Not one of my strong suits. I get by on what I learned as a kid.”
That caught him off guard.
She hadn’t been trained?
Garrus knew plenty of people who had decryption skills, but most had gone through either military training or specialized programs. Shepard? She had just… figured it out?
He didn’t respond, just watched her. How much of what she could do had she simply learned on her own?
When they finally reached Dr. T’Soni, Garrus immediately noted how young she seemed. Smart, but inexperienced. She had no real combat awareness, no concept of war, only the theory of it. He watched as Shepard assessed her quickly, determining whether the asari was truly a liability or an asset.
Wrex voiced the same concern Garrus had been thinking. Could she be trusted?
Shepard turned slightly, catching Garrus’ gaze.
It wasn’t just a glance—it was a question.
She was waiting on his input. Waiting on him.
That realization sent an odd feeling through him—one he didn’t have time to fully process.
He shrugged. “If she was with Saren, the geth wouldn’t be trying to kill her.”
That was enough for Shepard. She nodded and motioned for Garrus to deactivate the containment field.
When the ground started shaking, Garrus instantly went on high alert. Seismic activity.
Shepard was already ahead of him.
“Joker! Get the Normandy airborne and lock in on my signal. We need to get out of here now.”
The immediate response crackled through comms. “Aye, Aye, Commander. Secure and aweigh. ETA eight minutes.”
Garrus barely registered the exchange. His attention was on Shepard.
She was still, focused, calculating. She was assessing everything. Not just the collapsing ruins, not just their surroundings—but them.
How fast could they move? Who would need the most cover? How many seconds did they have before this place came down?
She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t panicked. But she was prepared. Garrus had worked with plenty of leaders before. But none like her.
When the elevator reached the top, the krogan stepped into view, and that’s when Garrus knew they were in for a fight.
“Surrender. Or don’t. That would be more fun.”
Shepard tilted her head, arms loose at her sides. “There a reason you’re in my way?”
The krogan smirked. “Same reason you’re here. The asari.”
Shepard sighed, shaking her head. “She’ll stay with us. Thanks.”
“Not an option. Saren wants her. And he always gets what he wants.” The krogan spoke again, this time sounding less amused.
Shepard shrugged “He didn’t get the quarian… I did. So, I’ll take my chances.”
Garrus smirked. That was the moment the krogan lost.
The fight was brutal.
Geth were positioned at every angle, forcing them to take cover while they exchanged fire.
Garrus had just taken down a sniper when he heard it—a sharp impact.
He turned just in time to see the krogan slam Shepard against the wall.
Shit.
Garrus moved without thinking.
His rifle snapped up, visor locking on the krogan’s shields. Two sharp bursts brought them down, and a third dropped the target. Clean. Precise. Unrelenting.
The krogan fell, lifeless.
Garrus didn’t stop moving until he was beside her. “Shepard.”
She blinked, startled for only a moment. Then offered a faint, tired smile.
“You good?” he asked, mandibles flicking slightly in concern.
She waved him off like it was nothing. “I’m fine, Garrus. Thanks for the save.”
He didn’t move right away. Just watched her, eyes narrowing slightly, reading between the lines. Then he gave a slow nod. He wasn’t going to let her get taken down. Not on his watch.
When they finally reached the Normandy, Garrus watched as Shepard leaned against the hull, catching her breath.
She still wasn’t showing fear. No hesitation. But he knew better now. He could see it—the subtle ways she braced herself, the tension coiled in her stance. She carried it like armor, quiet and invisible. But it was there. The weight of all of it.
She wouldn’t let anyone else see it. But Garrus saw it.
For a moment, he thought about saying something. Maybe even asking her to talk.
Instead, he simply stood beside her.
She glanced at him, smirked slightly, and pushed off the hull. “Come on, Vakarian. Let’s get the hell off this rock.”
He chuckled, shaking his head.
“Right behind you, Shepard.”
Shepard
“Too close, Commander. Ten more seconds, and we would’ve been swimming in molten sulfur.” Joker’s mildly annoyed voice crackled over the comms. “The Normandy isn’t equipped to land in exploding volcanoes. They tend to fry our sensors and melt our hull. Just for future reference.”
Shepard smirked. “So, you’re saying I can’t go visit a sun either?”
“You know what, Commander—nevermind.” Joker clicked off the comms with a sigh.
Shepard turned her head just enough to catch Garrus watching her. The slight twitch of his mandibles gave him away—he was amused, even if no one else in the room was.
At least someone gets me.
Ashley, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as entertained. Neither did Kaidan, though, for once, he seemed distracted by something else. Or someone.
Shepard followed his line of sight.
Liara.
The asari still looked slightly unsteady from the earlier ordeal, fingers pressed against the chair as if grounding herself. Shepard had met asari before, but Liara was… young. For all her knowledge, her voice carried a naivety that stood out.
106 years old, and she sounds like a fresh recruit.
Shepard found herself half-listening as Liara spoke, the asari’s voice tinged with both excitement and uncertainty as she shared her studies of the Protheans and her theories that they were not the first galactic civilization to disappear.
“And then,” Liara was saying, “like all the other forgotten civilizations throughout galactic history, the Protheans disappeared. I have dedicated my life to figuring out why.”
“They were wiped out by a race of sentient machines. The Reapers,” Shepard said quietly.
All eyes turned to her.
Liara blinked—clearly confused, maybe even offended. She hadn’t asked for a contradiction, and Shepard had just handed her one, “The– The Reapers? But I have never heard of– How do you know this? What evidence do you have?”
She took a breath, explaining the events of Eden Prime, the beacon, and the images the beacon forced into her mind.
Liara listened intently, her expression slowly shifting from curiosity to awe. In that moment, it all seemed to make sense to Liara. She was aware of the beacons, of how they were supposed to work, and what their purpose was. She paused for a moment, looking back toward Shepard.
“But the beacons were only programmed to interact with Prothean physiology,” she finally said. “Whatever information you received would have been confused, unclear.” She paused, studying Shepard. “I am amazed you were able to make sense of it at all. A lesser mind would have been utterly destroyed by the process. You must be remarkably strong-willed, Commander.”
Shepard huffed, lifting an eyebrow. “My father certainly thinks so…”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Garrus’ mandibles twitch in barely suppressed amusement. He was trying—and failing—not to laugh.
She knew that look.
Liara, oblivious, only tilted her head in curiosity. Shepard let the moment pass.
Across the room, Liara suddenly swayed. Kaidan was already moving before Shepard even had the chance.
“When was the last time you ate? Or slept?” He offered his arm to her like some gallant hero. “Dr. Chakwas should take a look at you.”
Shepard barely masked her immediate relief. If Kaidan wanted to fawn over someone, better it be Liara than her.
She caught Garrus watching her again. He’d seen it. Of course, he had. His eyes flickered from Kaidan, to Liara, then back to Shepard—who was very pointedly not reacting.
The corner of his mouth quirked, mandibles twitching in silent amusement.
Shepard exhaled through her nose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“That’s a good idea, Lieutenant,” she said, motioning toward the door. “Make sure she gets there.”
Kaidan straightened slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”
Liara gave a grateful nod before following him out.
“Alright, everyone. Dismissed.” Shepard said motioning they were all free to go.
The moment the door slid shut, Shepard turned back to Garrus. He was already smirking.
She crossed her arms. “Budding romance, you think?”
Garrus let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know. Liara certainly seems young and impressionable.” He tilted his head. “The Lieutenant certainly seems taken with her. Whether it will be mutual…”
Shepard let out a soft, exasperated sigh. “One can only hope.”
Garrus’ eyes narrowed slightly. “Hoping he’ll stop pining for you?”
Shepard’s smirk faltered. She shouldn’t be surprised he noticed.
He wasn’t wrong. But hearing him say it—so easily, so plainly—was another thing entirely.
Shepard shook her head. “Don’t miss a thing, do you, Garrus?”
“I’d have to be blind to have missed that, Jane.”
Jane.
Shepard paused—not because the name was new, but because it wasn’t.
It sounded natural now.
Before, he’d said it like he was testing its weight, like he wasn’t sure if it fit. This time, there was no hesitation.
Maybe it was the context of their conversation, or maybe he was just getting comfortable with it. With her. Either way, she noticed.
Shepard parted her lips slightly—to say what, she wasn’t sure. Before she could decide, the comms crackled back to life.
“Mission reports are filed, Commander. You want me to patch you through to the Council?”
Joker’s voice shattered the moment.
Shepard exhaled. “Duty calls. I’ll catch you later?”
Garrus nodded, stepping toward the door. “You know where to find me.”
The door slid shut behind him. Shepard let out a slow breath before tapping her comm.
“Patch them through, Joker.”