Shepard
Shepard stepped into Chora’s Den, the dim lighting and pounding bass doing little to soothe the irritation still burning in her chest. The club reeked of cheap alcohol, sweat, and desperation—a haven for lowlifes and those looking to disappear into the neon haze. She swept her gaze across the room, easily spotting her target slumped at a corner booth.
Harkin.
He was exactly as Anderson had described—drunk, disheveled, and well past the point of caring about how far he’d fallen. A half-empty bottle of something strong sat in front of him. Condensation dripped down the side of his glass as he swirled the amber liquid lazily. His bloodshot eyes barely lifted when Shepard approached, but as soon as she stood over him, his mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred, his grin oozing sleaze. “Didn’t expect to see someone like you slumming it down here. You looking for a real good time? ‘Cause I gotta say… that uniform hugs all the right places. Bet you’re a hell of a lot more fun off-duty.”
Shepard didn’t waste time with pleasantries. She barely suppressed the disgust curling in her stomach. Of all the things she had the patience for today, listening to some washed-up drunk leer at her wasn’t one of them. Her fingers itched to break his nose, but she pushed the anger down, forcing herself to focus.
“Harkin, right?” she said, her tone clipped, making it clear she wasn’t here to play games. “I need to find Garrus Vakarian. I hear you can tell me where to find him.”
Harkin let out a rough chuckle, leaning back in his seat. “Vakarian? You got a thing for turians then?” He took another drink, barely managing to keep it from spilling down his chin. “Or wait. You must be one of Anderson’s crew. Poor bastard’s still trying to bring Saren down?”
Shepard’s patience was thin. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a quiet, controlled tone. “I don’t have time for your shit, Harkin. You know where he is—so talk.”
He eyed her for a long moment before sighing dramatically and waving a hand. “Alright, alright. Relax. Last I heard, Vakarian was sniffin’ around Dr. Michel’s clinic in the Lower Wards. Somethin’ about Saren, no doubt. That turian’s got a death wish, pokin’ around in places he shouldn’t.”
Shepard straightened. “Thanks for the tip.”
Harkin grinned, leaning forward on the table. “You know, a woman like you should know how to loosen up. Maybe I could show you—”
Shepard slammed her fist into the table, harder than necessary. The bottle wobbled, then tipped, spilling liquor across the sticky surface.
Kaidan blinked in shock. Ashley muttered a quiet, “Whoa.”
Harkin jerked back, raising both hands like she might actually hit him.
“One more word,” she said, her voice dangerously soft, “and the only thing you’ll be drinking is your meals—through a straw.”
She didn’t wait for a response. “Let’s go.”
She turned on her heel, leaving him blinking in stunned silence as she strode out of the club.
Kaidan and Ashley exchanged a look.
“Remind me not to piss you off, Commander,” Ashley muttered as they followed her out.
Shepard let out a slow breath as they stepped back into the open air of the Wards. Her hands were still shaking—from anger or adrenaline, she wasn’t sure. But at least she had a lead now.
Time to find Garrus.
Shepard
Shepard quickly found her way to Dr. Michel’s office, but as she stepped into the Med Clinic, she was met with quite the scene. A group of thugs had cornered a woman—presumably Dr. Michel—one of them gripping her by the arm, speaking in a low but threatening tone.
Then she saw him.
Garrus.
He moved quietly along the perimeter, using the wall for cover. The thugs hadn’t noticed him yet. He was waiting for an opening. She figured she might as well give him one.
“Well, well, what have we here?” she said, her voice sharp as she leveled her pistol at the group.
One of the thugs whipped around, yanking Dr. Michel closer to use her as a shield. “Who the hell are you?” he barked.
That was all Garrus needed.
With practiced precision, he stepped around the wall and fired a single shot. The round hit the thug square in the forehead, sending him crumpling to the floor, releasing Dr. Michel in the process. Impressive. No—impressive was an understatement. Most people would hesitate before taking a shot like that. Too risky. Too easy to hit the hostage instead. But Garrus? He hadn’t hesitated for a second.
Together, they made quick work of the remaining thugs, and thanks to Garrus, Dr. Michel had managed to take cover before the firefight started.
“That was perfect timing, Commander. You gave me a clear shot at that bastard,” Garrus said, nodding in appreciation.
Shepard smirked. “Guess it’s a good thing I was looking for you. Impressive shot, Vakarian.”
Garrus tilted his head slightly, as if caught off guard by the approval. “Sometimes you get lucky.”
Shepard studied him for a moment, her smirk deepening. No… she thought, shaking her head slightly. “I’m sure we both know that wasn’t luck.” There was no need to feign humility—she had seen enough marksmen in her life to recognize true skill when she saw it.
Garrus held her gaze for a moment, mandibles twitching in a way she couldn’t quite decipher. Amusement? Uncertainty? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she had his attention.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught both Kaidan and Ashley’s expressions—shoulders tense, jaws set. They were not thrilled about this exchange, and she could already tell at least one of them wasn’t going to keep their opinions to themselves for long.
They turned to Dr. Michel, who quickly explained that a quarian had come to her for help, looking for protection. She was looking for the Shadow Broker, to trade information. And so, Dr. Michel had put her in contact with Fist, who was an agent for the Shadow Broker.
“Fist?” Garrus’s mandibles twitched as he pieced something together. “We arrested a krogan earlier—Wrex. He was making threats against Fist, said he wanted to kill him. Turns out, he was hired by the Shadow Broker to do exactly that.”
Shepard raised a brow. “The Shadow Broker put a hit on Fist?”
Garrus nodded. “Yeah. Seems Fist switched sides, started working for Saren instead.” His expression hardened. “If this quarian was looking for protection and she’s meeting with Fist, then she’s probably in serious danger.”
“Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker?” Dr. Michel asked, clearly surprised by this. “That’s stupid even for him. Saren must have made him quite the offer.”
Shepard exhaled sharply. “Then we need to move fast. If this quarian has information on Saren, we can’t let Fist get to her first.”
She turned to Ashley. “I need you to head back to the Ambassador’s office. Let Anderson know what’s happening.”
Ashley frowned. “Commander, with all due respect, I don’t think you and the LT should handle this alone.”
“We won’t be,” she replied smoothly. “I’m bringing Vakarian along.”
She turned to Garrus in a way that wasn’t so much a request as an expectation. He didn’t hesitate. “Count me in. Finally, someone who actually wants to do something about Saren instead of burying their head in red tape.”
“Thank you, Commander. I want to bring Saren down as much as you do.”
Before they could move, Ashley cleared her throat. “Commander, can I speak with you in private?”
Shepard sighed inwardly but nodded, stepping aside with her toward the clinic doors. She had a feeling she knew exactly where this was going.
“Are you sure about this?” Ashley whispered, her tone cautious. “I mean… he’s a turian.”
Shepard narrowed her eyes slightly, her voice dropping into a deadpan. “Yes, I noticed.”
Ashley’s jaw tightened. “I just think this might be a mistake. You can’t trust him.”
She studied her for a long moment, then exhaled through her nose. “Let me get this straight. You think Garrus is untrustworthy… because he’s a turian?”
Ashley shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m just saying, why would a turian go after another turi—”
“I don’t know,” she cut her off, voice laced with quiet fury. “For the same reason Kaidan and I took out human terrorists last week? Being part of the same species doesn’t automatically make you allies, and being from a different one doesn’t make you enemies.”
From across the room, she heard the faintest sound of muffled laughter. She flicked her gaze back toward Garrus, only to catch him watching her with something unreadable in his expression.
She turned back to Ashley, her tone final. “I’m taking Garrus. And that’s not a debate. Head back to the embassy. That’s an order.”
Defeated, Ashley saluted stiffly and left the clinic.
Garrus approached her as the doors slid shut. “You mentioned you were looking for me,” he said curiously. “How did you know I’d still be investigating Saren?”
Shepard tilted her head slightly, lips twitching in a smirk. “You don’t strike me as a very good turian.”
Garrus’s mandibles flared slightly, his expression caught between confusion and amusement. “Excuse me?”
She shrugged, stepping past him. “You don’t seem the type to follow bad orders.”
Garrus let out a quiet chuckle but then paused, head tilting slightly. His gaze flicked over her as if reevaluating something. “That’s… a turian expression.”
Shepard smirked but simply shrugged, offering no further explanation as she turned toward the door. “Come on, Vakarian. Let’s go save a quarian.”
Garrus
Garrus watched her go for a second longer than necessary, mandibles twitching as he tried to make sense of the moment. Shepard didn’t just know turian expressions—she used them casually, naturally.
Most humans fumbled with turian mannerisms, barely recognizing their meaning. But Shepard? She understood him in a way he hadn’t expected.
And Garrus had a feeling that wasn’t just a coincidence.
His mandibles twitched as he followed Shepard through the bustling corridors of the wards. He wasn’t sure what he had expected when she’d asked him to come along, but it definitely wasn’t this. Shepard was unlike any human he’d ever met—confident, sharp, and strangely at ease navigating the Citadel’s diverse crowds. She moved like she belonged here, like she wasn’t the outsider most humans tended to be. It was… unsettling, in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
They reached C-Sec Academy, where a heated argument immediately caught Garrus’s attention. Wrex—a massive, imposing krogan—was locked in a verbal standoff with a C-Sec officer.
“This is your only warning, Wrex. Stay away from Fist,” the officer barked, his voice wavering slightly despite his attempt at authority.
Wrex’s deep, rumbling laugh echoed through the hall. “You should warn Fist. I will kill him.”
“You want me to arrest you?” The officer was doing his best to appear imposing, but Garrus could see the strain in his posture as Wrex took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them.
Wrex loomed over him now, easily a head taller, his bulk casting the officer in shadow. “I want you to try.”
The officer took a half-step back, his hand twitching toward his sidearm but not quite committing. Smart enough to realize drawing on a krogan was suicide, at least.
Garrus felt a flicker of secondhand embarrassment. Picking a fight with a krogan bounty hunter in the first place? That was a special kind of stupid.
Before things could escalate further, Wrex’s eyes shifted, catching sight of Shepard and Garrus approaching. With a final glare at the officer, he ended the conversation and strode toward them, his heavy steps reverberating through the floor.
Shepard didn’t flinch. She met Wrex’s gaze head-on, her stance relaxed but ready. “Wrex, right? I’m Commander Shepard. We’re going after Fist.”
Wrex stopped in front of her, his expression unreadable. “Shepard. Commander Shepard. I’ve heard of you.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Out of respect, I’ll give you fair warning—I’m going to kill Fist.”
Before Shepard could respond, Garrus stepped in. “Fist knows you’re coming. You’ll have a better chance if we work together.”
Wrex’s gaze shifted to Garrus, studying him, then back to Shepard. There was a long pause, and Garrus could almost hear the gears turning in the krogan’s mind.
Finally, Wrex spoke. “My people have a saying: Seek the enemy of your enemy, and you will find a friend.”
Shepard chuckled, a low, genuine sound that seemed to catch Wrex off guard. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Wrex.”
Garrus watched the exchange with a mix of surprise and admiration. Shepard had a way of handling people—even dangerous ones like Wrex—that was both disarming and commanding. She didn’t rely on bluster or bravado; she simply met people where they were, earning respect without demanding it.
She turned to Kaidan. “Alenko, head back to the embassy. Let Anderson and Udina know what’s going on.”
Kaidan hesitated for a moment, glancing at Wrex, but nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He gave one last look at the krogan before heading off.
As they made their way toward Chora’s Den, Garrus couldn’t help but steal glances at Shepard. She walked with purpose, her confidence unshaken even as they delved deeper into the Citadel’s underbelly. It wasn’t just her skill or leadership that intrigued him—it was how seamlessly she navigated a world that most humans still found alien. She belonged here in a way that even some turians didn’t.
He found himself wondering, not for the first time, just how much there was to learn about her. And more importantly—why he wanted to know so badly.
Shepard
Chora’s Den was quieter than Shepard expected. The neon lights still flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls, but the usual din of music and conversation was conspicuously absent.
“Looks like Fist knows we’re coming,” Garrus remarked, his mandibles twitching in what Shepard recognized as a smirk.
“Good,” Wrex rumbled from behind them, cracking his knuckles. “Saves us the trouble of knocking.”
They approached cautiously, and as soon as they reached the entrance, gunfire erupted. Shepard moved without thought—muscle memory and instinct leading her forward. But almost immediately, she realized she wasn’t alone in that rhythm. Garrus moved with her. Not behind, not beside, but with—covering angles before she reached them, syncing with a precision that felt… practiced.
It should’ve been strange and yet… it wasn’t.
She filed it away. Maybe he was just that good. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the time for introspection.
She pressed forward, heart pounding—not from the gunfire, but from something she didn’t have the energy to name.
A krogan merc charged at her, roaring as it closed the distance.
“I’m sick of those damn krogan!” Shepard shouted as she ducked behind cover. “No offense, Wrex.”
Wrex let out a hearty laugh, smashing his shotgun into the chest of another guard and sending the poor bastard sprawling. “None taken, Shepard.”
Garrus’s sniper rifle echoed sharply through the den, and the krogan chasing her dropped mid-charge. Shepard glanced back, catching Garrus lowering his rifle with a nod. She didn’t need to say anything—he knew.
They pressed forward, clearing Fist’s guards with brutal efficiency. When they finally cornered him in his office, Fist was cowering behind his desk, hands raised. “Wait! Don’t kill me! I surrender!”
“Where’s the quarian?” Shepard demanded.
Fist raised his hands higher, eyes darting between Shepard, Garrus, and Wrex. “I-I don’t know anything about the quarian,” he stammered.
Shepard stepped closer, her pistol aimed squarely at his forehead. “Try again,” she said, her voice cold and steady.
Fist swallowed hard, beads of sweat trickling down his face. “I… I just heard rumors, that’s all!”
Wrex shifted his weight, shotgun still in hand. “He’s no use to you now. Let me kill him.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of fact, delivered with the casual indifference of someone discussing the weather.
Fist’s resolve crumbled instantly. “I-I’ll talk!” he blurted. “She said she’d only deal with the Shadow Broker himself, so I set up a meeting. Here on the wards. The back alley by the markets. She’s supposed to meet them right now. You can make it if you hurry.”
Wrex didn’t wait for further explanation. With a single, casual shot, he put Fist down.
Garrus blinked, lowering his weapon slightly. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Wrex shrugged, holstering his shotgun. “The Shadow Broker paid me to kill him. I don’t leave jobs half done.”
Shepard glanced at Fist’s lifeless body, then back at Wrex. “A lot of people died because of him. He had it coming. Now let’s move. We have to save that quarian!”
Garrus sighed and nodded. “On your six, Commander.”
Without wasting another second, they bolted from Chora’s Den, racing toward the markets. Shepard’s mind was already spinning—if they didn’t get to that quarian in time, they’d lose their only lead on Saren.
When they arrived at the alley, they found her surrounded by two salarians and a turian, the latter speaking in a low, persuasive tone.
“The Shadow Broker is coming,” the turian assured her.
The quarian shook her head, her hand hovering over her weapon. “No. The deal’s off. I know who you’re working for.”
The salarians moved to flank her, but the quarian was faster. She yanked a grenade from her belt and hurled it at their feet, forcing them to scatter and giving herself just enough time to dive behind cover.
Shepard didn’t wait. “Now!” she barked, and the firefight erupted.
The battle was swift. Garrus took out one of the salarians with a clean headshot, while Wrex barreled into the other, his shotgun tearing through shields and armor alike. Shepard handled the turian, her pistol finding its mark with brutal precision.
When the dust settled, the quarian lowered her weapon cautiously, her gaze flicking between them.
Shepard let out a sigh as she approached the quarian, lowering her weapon slightly. She didn’t want to make the girl feel cornered, especially after everything she’d been through.
“Are you alright?” Shepard asked, her voice steady but soft.
The quarian looked up, her posture still defensive but gradually relaxing as she assessed the situation. “I’m fine,” she said with a quick shake of her head, her voice steady despite the evident frustration in her words. “Fist set me up! I knew I couldn’t trust him!”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Shepard replied, trying to reassure her. She knew how it felt to trust the wrong people. “Were you hurt in the fight?”
The quarian hesitated, taking a moment to calm herself before she spoke again. “I know how to look after myself,” she added. Shepard could almost hear the hint of a smile pulling at the edge of her lips. “Not that I don’t appreciate the help. Who are you?”
Shepard gave a slight nod, acknowledging the question. She stepped closer, her stance casual but professional. “I’m Commander Shepard, Alliance military. I’m looking for evidence to prove Saren’s a traitor.”
The quarian’s posture relaxed slightly, though her eyes remained wary. “Then I have a chance to repay you for saving my life. But not here. We need to go somewhere safe.”
Garrus stepped closer, his tone serious. “We could take her to the human embassy. Your ambassador will want to see this anyway.”
The quarian nodded. “I… suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Tali’Zorah nar Rayya.”
Shepard gave her a reassuring smile, her tone light. “Pleasure to meet you, Tali. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
As the group began to move toward the embassy, Shepard couldn’t help but feel a little sense of accomplishment. It seemed that with Tali’s help the pieces were beginning to fall into place.
But as they walked Shepard found herself glancing at Garrus. He didn’t need words to communicate—a subtle shift of his eyes, the way his fingers tightened on his rifle… they had fallen in sync easily, seamlessly. It was rare to find someone who understood the flow of battle as instinctively as she did. And Wrex… Wrex was just brutally honest, in a way that Shepard found strangely refreshing.
For the first time since Eden Prime, Shepard felt like maybe she could finally get justice for the colony. For Nihlus. But justice wouldn’t bring him back. Nothing would. She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the hunt. Saren was out there, and she’d make damn sure he paid for everything he’d done.
Garrus
Garrus walked alongside Shepard, their steps steady as they navigated the Citadel’s bustling walkways. The bright lights of the wards reflected off the polished metal surfaces, casting shifting patterns on Shepard’s face. Tali and Wrex followed a few paces behind, their voices a soft murmur against the backdrop of the station’s ambient noise.
Shepard had been unusually quiet since they left the markets. Garrus wasn’t an expert in reading human expressions—turians were far more straightforward in their emotions—but there was something in the set of her jaw, the distant look in her eyes, that told him something was off.
For a moment, he hesitated. Was it his place to ask? They barely knew each other, but something about Shepard made him feel… different. Connected in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Finally, the need to break the silence won out.
“Commander,” he said, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to Tali or Wrex. “You alright?”
Shepard seemed almost startled by his question, blinking as if pulled from a deep thought. She turned to him, offering a soft, tentative smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice steady but lacking conviction. “Just hoping Tali’s evidence is enough to get justice…” Her voice trailed off, the words hanging in the air unfinished.
Garrus caught the hesitation, the weight behind her words. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to press. “Justice?”
Shepard seemed to shake off the thought, her shoulders straightening slightly. “Justice for Eden Prime,” she said, her tone more controlled now. “And the people that died there.”
Garrus nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. He didn’t claim to understand humans—their emotions often seemed layered in ways turians didn’t bother with. But Shepard? Shepard was different. But Shepard? Shepard was different. He could read her silences, sense the undercurrents of what she wasn’t saying.
Still, he decided not to push further. He imagined if she wanted to talk, she would, to people she trusted. Instead, he let the comfortable silence settle between them, their footsteps echoing in unison as they continued toward the embassy.
For reasons he couldn’t fully grasp, Garrus felt that he and Shepard were already starting to understand each other in a way that went beyond words. And somehow, he knew that whatever was weighing on her mind wasn’t just about Eden Prime.
Garrus
Garrus had always believed that politicians, regardless of their species, shared one universal trait: they were all the self-righteous hypocrites. And Ambassador Udina was no exception.
The moment they’d stepped into Udina’s office, the man’s face had twisted into that familiar blend of irritation and self-importance. His first words weren’t gratitude for saving Tali or exposing Saren’s treachery, it was a reprimand. Firefights in the wards? Disrupting Citadel security? Garrus had heard it all before, but hearing it directed at Shepard made his mandibles twitch in frustration. She had done exactly what needed to be done, and Udina was more concerned about optics than results.
Garrus wasn’t usually one to intervene in political squabbles, but this time, it took effort not to speak up. Shepard deserves better than this.
As Udina and Anderson stepped out to arrange a meeting with the Council, the tension in the room eased slightly. Garrus crossed his arms, glancing at Shepard, who looked unbothered by the whole encounter. But Garrus wasn’t fooled. She was good at hiding it—too good.
“Your ambassador doesn’t seem to be the grateful type,” Garrus finally remarked, his tone light but edged with genuine curiosity.
Shepard shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Udina thinks he knows everything because it’s his job. But he doesn’t understand the Citadel. Not really.”
Garrus tilted his head, intrigued. “And you do?”
She chuckled, the sound warm and surprisingly genuine. “I grew up here, Vakarian. Until I enlisted. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I probably know more than Udina does.”
Grew up here? Garrus straightened slightly. That explained a lot. Her ease around aliens, her confidence navigating the wards—things that most humans struggled with. But there was still more to it, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“I wasn’t aware of that, Commander,” Garrus said, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but not fast enough for his liking.
“It’s not a secret,” Shepard replied, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Just… no one really asks.”
That smile, small as it was, caught him off guard. It wasn’t the rehearsed, polite kind he’d seen from humans trying to fit in with other species. It was genuine, relaxed. Comfortable. Why was she so comfortable?
“What was it like? Growing up here?” Tali chimed in, her voice filled with the kind of curiosity only someone young and wide-eyed could muster.
Their conversation drifted for a while, Shepard sharing bits and pieces about her childhood. She talked about bouncing between the Citadel and ships her mother was stationed on, how her father and grandmother believed the Citadel offered more stability. Garrus listened closely, filing away every detail. It explained some things, sure, but not everything. There was still that… familiarity. A nagging feeling he couldn’t shake.
Shepard’s omni-tool blinked with a new message, interrupting the flow of conversation. Garrus watched her as she read it, noting the subtle shift in her expression—the brief tension around her eyes, the way her lips pressed together. She glanced up, meeting his gaze for just a moment longer than necessary.
“Well,” she said, her voice steady but lacking its earlier warmth, “we’ve got another meeting with the Council. Let’s hope this one goes better than the last. 0900 tomorrow. Anderson asked for all of you to join us.”
“They won’t be able to deny it now,” Garrus said, though even to his own ears, it sounded more like wishful thinking than confidence. “With Tali’s evidence, there’s no room for doubt.”
“I pray that it’s enough,” Tali added quietly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t salvage more of the data.”
Shepard shook her head, waving off the apology. “Trust me, Tali, if this isn’t enough, nothing will be.”
There was a beat of silence before Shepard straightened, forcing a smile. “But enough about that. Are you guys hungry? I just realized I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”
Garrus blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in topic. But now that she mentioned it… “I don’t think I’ve eaten today either,” he admitted, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I was too busy banging my head against dead-end leads.”
“Same,” Tali chimed in. “I was too focused on tracking the Shadow Broker to even think about food.”
“I ate.” Wrex shrugged. “But I can always eat.”
Shepard grinned, that playful glint returning to her eyes. “Then it’s settled. I know a place nearby. Good dextro and levo options. Unless you’ve got any specific preferences?”
Garrus chuckled, shaking his head. “Near the embassies? No offense, Commander, but that’s likely to cost a fortune.”
“Don’t worry, I’m buying. I owe you all for helping me with this.”
That caught Garrus off guard. “I didn’t know the Alliance military paid that well, Commander,” he teased, raising a brow plate.
Shepard laughed—an honest, unrestrained laugh that made something in Garrus’ chest tighten unexpectedly. “Spirits, no, they don’t.” She waved a hand dismissively, clearly not interested in explaining further.
Spirits? Garrus’ mandibles twitched. Another turian expression, and she’d used it so naturally it had almost slipped past him. Why did she seem so comfortable with turian expressions? And it wasn’t just the words; it was the way she used them, like they were second nature.
“Very well, Commander,” Garrus said, his voice dropping into a playful tone of his own. “I won’t turn down a good meal. I promise not to take advantage of you… this time, at least.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Oh? Is that so, Vakarian?” Her voice dropped slightly, a teasing edge creeping in. “I’m not sure that’s a promise I want you to keep.”
Garrus’ mandibles flared slightly, caught somewhere between amusement and something else he didn’t care to name. “I…I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Commander.”
She smirked, brushing past him toward the door. “Good. Now, food. Let’s go.”
Garrus fell into step beside her, his mind still turning over everything she’d said. He knew now that she’d grown up on the Citadel, and that explained a lot. But it didn’t explain everything. There was still that nagging familiarity, that feeling he’d met her before or knew her from somewhere.
As they walked, that puzzle piece hovered just out of reach, and Garrus found himself wanting, no needing, to solve it. But more than that, he realized something else: he liked the mystery that was Shepard. And he wasn’t in any hurry to solve it too quickly.
Garrus
The restaurant was tucked into a quieter corner of the Presidium, far from the bustle of the embassies. The lighting was soft, and the gentle hum of conversation blended with the occasional clink of utensils against plates. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt lived-in—a place where stories had been exchanged over meals for years.
Garrus found himself relaxing more than he expected. Tali was recounting tales from her pilgrimage, her excitement infectious. Wrex would jump in from time to time when something reminded him of a job. Shepard listened with genuine interest, asking thoughtful questions that made Tali brighten even more and seemed to catch Wrex by surprised occasionally.
When the conversation shifted, Shepard turned her attention to Garrus. “So, what’s it like working for C-Sec?” she asked, leaning forward slightly, her eyes curious but relaxed.
Garrus shrugged, swirling his drink absentmindedly. “Frustrating. Too many rules, not enough results. I joined following in my father’s footsteps. He’s been C-Sec his whole life—by the book kind of turian.” He let out a soft huff. “I guess I never really fit that mold.”
“You’ve got family back on Palaven?” Shepard asked, her tone light but genuinely interested.
“Yeah,” Garrus nodded. “My mother and my sister. Haven’t seen them in a while. They’re still on Palaven.” He paused, then added, “Didn’t spend much time on the Citadel growing up. Only visited a few times before I joined C-Sec.”
Shepard’s brow lifted slightly. “Could’ve fooled me. You navigate this place like you’ve lived here all your life.”
Garrus chuckled. “Maybe. But I’ve never seen a human move through the Citadel the way you do. You’re too comfortable here.”
“I don’t know about too comfortable. I just manage to not get lost.” Shepard grinned but didn’t offer more.
Before Garrus could push further, a familiar figure approached their table.
“Jane Shepard,” Corthak greeted, his voice warm with genuine familiarity. The older turian’s mandibles twitched in something close to a smile. “It’s been a while.”
Garrus blinked. Jane? He hadn’t heard anyone call her that.
Shepard’s face lit up in a way Garrus hadn’t seen before. “Corthak. I was starting to think you had retired.”
Corthak chuckled, a low, gravelly sound. “Not yet. But I hear you’ve been busy causing no small amount of commotion. Keeping Udina on his toes, no doubt.”
Shepard smirked. “It doesn’t take much.”
Corthak’s gaze flicked to Garrus, his expression turning mildly curious. “And Garrus Vakarian—how does someone like you end up at a table with the legendary Commander Shepard?” His tone was light, but the implication hung in the air.
“What can I say,” he said, throwing a sideways glance toward Shepard, “she seems to like me.”
Corthak huffed a laugh, then turned back to Shepard. “I’m not sure how your father would feel about you hanging around C-Sec’s most famous rebel.” He paused, mandibles twitching thoughtfully. “Actually, he’d probably approve of this one.”
Shepard smirked, her eyes flicking to Garrus for just a moment. “Yeah. He probably would.”
Corthak turned his attention to Garrus. “Come to think of it… I’m not sure your father would feel the same about you keeping company with humanity’s rising star.”
Wrex didn’t even look up from his plate. “Her father sounds more fun.”
Garrus arched a brow plate, mandibles twitching. “You know who her father is?”
Wrex shrugged, spearing another piece of meat. “Not a clue. But if he’s anything like her, he’s definitely more fun than yours.”
Shepard laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I’m in good company.”
Corthak’s mandibles twitched in agreement. “Knowing you… you’re probably right. Maybe you can teach him a thing or two about breaking rules without getting into trouble.”
He didn’t linger long. “You’re taken care of, as always,” he added casually. “And if the Council gives you any more trouble… you come to me.”
With a nod, he left them to their meal.
Tali blinked, glancing between Shepard and Garrus. “You seem to know everyone on the Citadel.”
Shepard shrugged, her grin never fading. “Oh, that’s not my doing.”
Garrus chuckled, shaking his head. “Not your doing? Then whose doing is it?”
Shepard turned to look at him, shrugging like the answer was obvious. “My grandmother’s, mostly. Lifelong politician. Seems to know everyone on the Citadel.”
Garrus’ mandibles twitched thoughtfully. That explained the ease with Citadel connections, the comfortable navigation of political circles. A politician’s granddaughter, raised on the Presidium…
The pieces were slowly coming together. And Garrus found he was enjoying the process of figuring her out—one casual revelation at a time.