Shepard
Sean had long ago disappeared, swallowed by the night and the willing company of multiple admirers, exactly as expected. Shepard had laughed when she saw it happen—doubling down on that rockstar lifestyle, huh, Belmore?—but that was hours ago. The party was still going, the music still pounding, the bass pulsing through her, but she wasn’t distracted enough.
Not enough to stop thinking about him. About Garrus. About the fact that she had seen him with Seris. About the fact that Seris would probably be leaving with him tonight.
Shepard scowled, tilting her drink back. And why the hell should that bother me? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like she expected Garrus to sit on the sidelines. He had every right to be here, to bring someone.
To do whatever he damn well pleases.
And yet.
She exhaled sharply through her nose, jaw tight. He deserves better. That was it, wasn’t it? That was why it got under her skin.
Seris was beautiful, confident, carried herself with a sharp edge of amusement that suggested she was used to getting what she wanted. And what she wanted tonight was Garrus. Shepard could see it clear as day.
She wasn’t sure why she hated that.
“Jane, stop being an idiot,” she muttered under her breath, setting her drink down with too much force.
She needed to move. Needed to focus on anything else.
Tali and Liara had been lingering near the dance floor, both more at ease now than earlier in the night. When Shepard stepped toward them, Tali didn’t hesitate, grabbing her hands and pulling her further in, twirling her in a way that made Shepard laugh despite herself. It was easy, light, fun—the kind of carefree moment they rarely got to have.
She leaned into the music, let it carry her, let it blur the edges of everything she normally held too tightly. Sweat clung to her skin, her breath quickened, and for once, she didn’t care who was watching.
Until she did.
Her movements slowed as something pulled at the edges of her awareness. A shift in the atmosphere, a weight she could feel even before she found the source. She turned, scanning the room—searching without fully knowing why.
And then she saw him.
Garrus.
He was standing near the bar, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes locked onto her. And he was alone.
Her pulse stumbled for a beat. Where’s Seris?
But before she could process that, before she could even think about why that mattered, the weight of his gaze settled into her bones.
That flicker of warmth hit her again—unexpected, unshakable.
He looked different like this. The usual tension in his stance had eased, the rigid discipline that so often held him together now dialed down. He was relaxed, watching her in a way that made something coil deep in her stomach.
How long had he been standing there?
She shook her head to herself. Long enough.
Fine. If he wanted to sit back and watch, that was his problem. But she wasn’t letting him off that easy. She turned toward him, making her way through the crowd with easy confidence, her movements deliberate now.
Then she saw her.
Seris.
Sleek, poised, comfortable in a way that made Shepard’s stomach twist. She had returned. Standing close to Garrus again. The kind of woman who already knew she had his attention. The kind of woman who had been in his bed before.
Shepard slowed.
Garrus turned toward Seris, handing her a drink.
Something in Shepard’s chest tightened.
It was stupid. Irrational. He’s Garrus. Her friend. Her best friend. Her sniper, the one person she trusted more than anyone. And yet she felt like the air had been knocked out of her.
He should be with Seris. He deserved to relax, to have fun, to be with someone who wasn’t her for once.
She swallowed, already turning back toward the dance floor.
No.
She hesitated for only a breath, then lifted her chin and kept walking toward him.
Seris was mid-sentence, mandibles tilted in the kind of knowing smile Shepard had seen before.
Shepard slid into Garrus’ space without hesitation.
“Hey,” she said, voice warm, inviting.
Garrus turned toward her, and everything shifted. His posture, his focus, his expression—all of it turned to her.
Seris faltered.
Shepard felt her own pulse quicken, but not from the music., but not from the music. It was reckless, maybe even selfish. But it also felt right.
She reached for his hand. “Dance with me.”
For a moment, Garrus just looked at her.
Then—
He took her hand.
And just like that, he chose her.
Garrus
The club had shifted again. The concert was long over, and now the music had settled into something heavier, something deep and pulsing, pressing against Garrus’ chest like a second heartbeat. The energy was different now—more fluid, more intimate. People weren’t just dancing anymore. They were moving in ways that spoke to something else entirely.
He wasn’t paying much attention.
He had been drinking, keeping conversation with Seris, his focus half on the club and half on the drink in his hand. Or at least, that was what he told himself.
But the truth? The truth was that he was looking for Shepard.
Not obviously. Not in a way anyone would notice, not even Seris—but his attention kept pulling in her direction, scanning the crowd, checking in a way that felt too automatic.
Because something wasn’t adding up.
Sean Belmore was nowhere to be seen.
Garrus had expected to see them together all night. That was what he had resigned himself to, what he had accepted. But Sean wasn’t with her. Hadn’t been for a while now.
So where the hell was he?
Garrus’ mandibles twitched, his grip tightening slightly around his glass. Had something happened? Had he left her? Was he off doing some kind of interview, making an appearance? He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter.
Shepard wasn’t alone—Tali and Liara were with her, laughing, moving together in a way that suggested the drinks had kicked in just enough to loosen them all up. And Shepard—
His stomach twisted.
She was still wearing that damn outfit. Because why wouldn’t she be. The one that had every single person in the club turning their heads when she walked by. The one that still felt wrong and incredibly right at the same time.
The low-cut top, the layered necklaces catching the neon lights, the sleek black leather pants hugging every muscle in her legs. He could still hear the way she had joked earlier—*Can’t have his ‘girlfriend’ being anything less than a supermodel in front of the cameras.”
But Sean wasn’t here. So who was she looking good for? Before he could think too much about that question, Shepard turned and her eyes found him.
Garrus stiffened.
She began walking toward him. Through the crowd, through the shifting, pulsing lights, moving with a kind of easy confidence that made something unsteady coil in his chest.
And, spirits help him, he couldn’t stop watching her.
Completely, entirely. The way the lights caught in her eyes, the way the sweat on her skin glowed in the neon haze. She wasn’t dancing anymore, wasn’t looking for anyone else.
And then, Seris returned.
Garrus turned, just briefly, handing her the drink he had grabbed for her, catching the slight curl of amusement at the edges of her mandibles. “Thanks,” she said, fingers brushing against his as she took it. “Starting to think you got lost.”
He gave a half-chuckle, still half-aware of Shepard somewhere nearby. “Not my first time in a club, Seris.”
Seris smirked, taking a sip. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Before he could answer, before he could even think about what the hell she meant by that—Shepard was right there. Standing next to him.
He barely even registered Seris anymore.
“Hey,” Shepard said, her voice warm, pulling him in.
Garrus turned and everything shifted.
She was looking at him, directly, intently, like no one else in the room mattered.
Seris shifted, her mandibles flicking. “I—”
Shepard didn’t look at her. Didn’t hesitate.
She reached for his hand. “Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
For a moment, he just looked at her.
This close, the music wasn’t the loudest thing in the club. She was. Her heartbeat was suddenly all he could hear.
Her skin was warm, her breath shallow but steady. Her lips curved into something softer than a smirk, and this close, her eyes weren’t just green—they were endless.
She didn’t break eye contact.
And in that moment, everything in his mind should have been telling him to think. To hesitate. To consider that he was here with Seris. Consider that Shepard had spent all night with Sean. Consider why the hell this was happening.
But none of that mattered.
Because in that moment, as his fingers closed around hers, his doubts faded.
And just like that, he chose her.
Shepard
The music thrummed through the club, the bassline reverberating through Shepard’s chest. It wasn’t just the drinks, or the heat of too many bodies moving under the neon haze—it was this.
Garrus.
They moved in sync, easy and unthinking, like falling into cover together or moving as one in a firefight. She hadn’t expected him to be good at this—not really—but he’d caught her rhythm within seconds. She should’ve known. He always kept up with her, no matter the battlefield.
His hands rested on her hips, light but present. Solid. Steady. And his focus was entirely on her, watching her in a way that made something curl warm and low in her chest. His mandibles flicked occasionally—some unconscious movement he probably wasn’t even aware of.
She liked watching for those tells. More than she should.
The song shifted into something slower, heavier, and Shepard didn’t pull away. Neither did he.
She slid closer instead, closing the space between them until there was barely any left. Not enough to be scandalous, but enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, enough that when she tilted her head back to look up at him, his face was right there.
Close enough to count the small scars along his jaw plates. Close enough to see the way his eyes tracked her movements, sharp and focused in a way that had nothing to do with tactical assessment.
Her pulse jumped.
Just dancing. We’re just dancing.
Except it didn’t feel like just dancing.
His hand shifted slightly at her waist—not pulling, not demanding, just… there. Present. Like he was reminding himself she was real.
She knew the crew had noticed.
Joker was perched at the bar, his face split into an incredulous grin, nudging Tali so hard she nearly stumbled. The quarian’s hands shot up to her mask, whispering frantically as they both watched. Wrex, sitting at the edge of the room with a drink, looked entirely unimpressed—until he started counting credits, apparently collecting winnings from a bet Shepard definitely didn’t want to know about. Ashley, nearby, took a long drink and looked anywhere else.
On the dance floor, not far from them, Kaidan and Liara swayed together—though their attention kept drifting toward Shepard and Garrus. Kaidan said something that made Liara laugh softly, a small smile playing at her lips.
She didn’t care.
She told herself it didn’t matter. Told herself they were just two friends dancing, letting loose after some hard missions and an unknown path ahead. That’s all this was.
For once, she didn’t think about what came next, didn’t calculate angles or consider consequences. She just wanted to stay in this moment, let the music carry her, and let Garrus keep his hands right where they were.
The song faded into another, and another. They didn’t stop.
At some point, she became vaguely aware that Seris was gone. Some part of her had expected Seris to cut in at any moment. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t seen her leave, but then again, she hadn’t been paying attention to anything except Garrus.
But when Garrus’ thumb brushed absently against her hip—barely a movement, probably unconscious—her breath caught.
And when she looked up and found him already looking down at her, something passed between them. Something unspoken that she wasn’t ready to name.
“You’re staring,” she said, aiming for teasing but landing somewhere softer.
Garrus said nothing for a moment. Just held her gaze. Then his hand came up to her face and slowly, carefully, pushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered for just a moment, barely grazing her jaw.
“So are you,” he murmured back.
She was.
She really was.
Neither of them looked away.
Around them, the club pulsed on—music, lights, bodies moving in the dark. But in this small space between them, everything had gone quiet.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough for her to realize she was in trouble.
Garrus
The bass still pulsed through the club, but the world had narrowed to just her.
Shepard was close, closer than she needed to be, moving with an ease that made it seem like this was something they did all the time. Like she always let his hands rest low on her hips. Like it wasn’t something new, something that had short-circuited his brain the moment she pulled him onto this dance floor.
She leaned in, her fingers resting light on his arm, voice low beneath the pounding rhythm, her breath warm against his jaw. “Come on, Garrus. Let’s get out of here.”
His talons dug into her hip before he caught himself.
This is fine. This is normal. Just Jane being Jane.
Except the second she pulled back, he saw the crew—saw the way Joker’s mouth had fallen open at the bar, Tali and Liara whispering like conspirators. Even Kaidan had noticed, though his expression was more amused than anything else before he turned back to his conversation with Liara.
Rumors. There were definitely going to be rumors.
Not that Shepard looked remotely concerned. She just smirked at him, waiting for an answer like nothing about the last hour had completely wrecked his perception of reality.
“Yeah,” he said, “Let’s get out of here.”
And just like that, they left together.
The club was still pulsing behind them, neon lights flickering against the polished streets of the Citadel, but Garrus barely noticed. His mind was still catching up.
Shepard had asked him to dance. Had stayed, song after song.
And now? Now she was walking beside him, as if nothing had changed, as if his whole world hadn’t tilted on its axis.
“You hungry?” she asked, her voice casual, easy.
Garrus blinked, focusing back on her. “I could eat… But would I get to see hungover Jane if I say no?”
She scoffed, elbowing him lightly. “No, you’d just miss out on me buying you dinner.”
“Fine. Only if I can buy you another drink.” he responded, letting the implication settle around them.
She rolled her eyes, not even turning to look at him. “Still not drunk enough to sing.” A pause. “There’s a place nearby. Good ramen. Late hours.”
“You’ve got a ramen spot?” He was already intrigued.
“Of course I have a ramen spot.” She smirked, and he could tell she was already leading them there—no hesitation, no searching for directions. She knew exactly where she was going.
Shepard walked beside him, all easy confidence, the same natural grace she carried into every firefight. But now, with the neon lights casting long shadows, something hit him for the first time.
She was tall.
He knew that already—Shepard was taller than most human women, her presence always filling whatever space she was in. But right now, walking next to her, it was different.
She was nearly at his eye level.
His gaze dropped to her feet, sharp black stiletto heels clicking against the pavement—four inches, at least. Thin. Razor-sharp. Deadly. Like everything else about her.
How the hell …?
It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed them before—he had. But for some reason, right now, it really caught his attention.
“How do you even walk in those?” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Shepard laughed, shaking her head as if he’d asked something ridiculous. “I don’t know. You just… figure it out.”
“Figure it out?” He gave her an incredulous look. “I think I’d be more likely to break an ankle.”
“You probably would,” she shot back, smirking. “I don’t suggest you try.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
And suddenly, it clicked.
This wasn’t Jane trying to be something she wasn’t. The armor, the Alliance uniform, the workout gear, the leather and heels—all of it was her. Different tools for different situations. She moved through the world with the same lethal grace whether she was storming a facility or walking through a club in stilettos.
She wasn’t pretending. She never had been.
This was just Jane.
Garrus
The batarian behind the counter barely gave them a second look before rattling off a list of dextro-friendly broths, as if he’d seen this exact situation before. As if Shepard bringing a turian here was expected.
Garrus barely had time to process that before Shepard started ordering, smooth and practiced.
“Shoyu ramen for me, extra chashu. Gyoza to share. Two sakes—” She glanced at Garrus, gesturing toward him with an easy familiarity. “And whatever my partner here wants.”
Garrus blinked at the casual title but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned to the batarian. “Shio ramen. Extra spice.”
The man grunted in approval, moving to prepare their drinks first.
“Partner?” Garrus muttered.
She looked back at him, still smiling. “Well, you are my XO, aren’t you? Pretty sure we’re partners in this mission.”
Right. The mission. Saren.
Garrus studied her as she leaned against the counter, fingers drumming lightly against the worn surface. There was something settled about her here—something easy, comfortable. She wasn’t just humoring him. She liked this place.
When the sake was set in front of them a moment later, she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his dextro bottle first, twisting it open before he could reach for it.
“You can’t pour your own sake,” she said, matter-of-fact.
Garrus blinked. “I can’t?”
“Nope. Not proper manners. Also, bad luck.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “That a human thing?”
“More of a people-that-invented-sake thing,” she smirked, nudging the bottle toward him.
He huffed, mandibles twitching. “So, does that mean I’m supposed to pour yours?”
“That’s the idea.”
Garrus shook his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he carefully picked up the levo sake and poured her a glass as she poured his.
It was simple, this little ritual. Unspoken, but understood.
She lifted her glass, clinking it lightly against his before taking a sip. Then she set it down and looked at him directly, something shifting in her expression—less guarded than usual.
“So,” Garrus said, the question finally surfacing. “What happened to Sean?”
Shepard’s lips quirked. “Living the rockstar life.”
He frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” she said, gesturing vaguely with her glass, “he left with a group of very willing, very adoring fans. As usual.”
Garrus stared at her. “And you’re… fine with that?”
She laughed—genuinely amused. “Garrus, I told you. We’re not together. Haven’t been in a long time. Sean’s…Sean. That’s what he does.” She took another sip. “Besides, I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The words landed heavier than she probably intended.
Here. With him.
Garrus felt something shift in his chest, something he didn’t have a name for yet.
The ramen and gyoza arrived not long after, steam rising from the bowls, the rich scent of broth filling the small space between them. For a while, there was nothing but the quiet sound of chopsticks and the comfortable silence that came with good food.
“This is good,” Garrus said after a few bites.
“Told you.” Shepard smirked, reaching for a gyoza. “You doubted me?”
Garrus leaned over the appetizer plate — split down the center like a diplomatic treaty — and tapped one of the gyoza with the tip of his talon. “I never doubted. Just… surprised you have a spot.”
“I’ve got spots everywhere,” she said easily. “You just don’t know about them yet.”
Yet. The word hung there, implying a future where he would.
And that, more than anything, was what got to him. They had just spent hours in a club, lost in the noise and heat of it all. But this? Sitting here, eating good food in quiet companionship—this was what Shepard chose. She wanted this. With him.
The longer they sat, the more Garrus started noticing things he’d never let himself notice before.
The way she stretched her neck slightly, rolling her shoulders as fatigue crept in. The way she sighed—not in frustration, but in contentment. And her hair.
He’d never really seen it like this. She always had it up, pinned back into that low bun, stray strands slipping free in battle. But now it was down, and for the first time he could see how long it actually was—falling past her shoulders, catching the warm light of the restaurant.
She ran her hand through it absently, fingers pushing it away from her face. The motion was smooth, unthinking.
He must have been staring, because after a moment she turned her head and caught him.
“What?” Her voice was curious, open—no accusation.
Garrus hesitated. “Your hair. I’ve never seen it down before.”
She blinked, then smiled—a little self-conscious, a little pleased. “Yeah, well. Can’t exactly wear it like this on missions.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it’s… nice.”
The word felt insufficient, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her smile widened just slightly, and as she turned back to her ramen, he caught the slight hint of blush that crept to her cheeks.
And Garrus sat there, sake in hand, watching her eat and realizing with absolute certainty that he was in a lot of trouble.
Garrus
The warmth of the sake had settled in, smoothing the edges of everything, but Garrus wasn’t sure if that was why he felt so damn comfortable.
Maybe it was just her.
She stretched slightly as she pushed her empty bowl away, sighing as though she knew she should leave but didn’t really want to. “I should head back.”
She said it, but there was no urgency in her voice.
Garrus leaned back, watching her. They’d been walking, dancing, sitting in this tiny ramen shop for what felt like hours, and yet the idea of parting ways now seemed… strange.
“My place is closer,” he said. Not an offer. Just a fact.
She glanced at him, considering, and then gave a small nod. “Alright.”
And just like that, they left together.
The streets were quieter now, the Citadel’s lights hanging soft and still. The club’s neon glow had long faded behind them, and for the first time since the evening started, Shepard exhaled, something easing in her shoulders.
“Hold this for a sec?” she asked, handing her jacket to him so she could free her hands.
Garrus took it automatically, the fabric warm from her body heat. Then she reached back, gathering her hair into a loose ponytail, and he did something stupidly instinctual—something he’d seen humans do a thousand times but had never done himself.
Instead of just handing the jacket back, he held it up for her to slip into.
Shepard didn’t hesitate. She moved as if it was the most natural thing in the world, sliding her arms through the sleeves. And that’s when he saw it—a glimpse of blue ink against her skin, just visible above the exceptionally low cut of her tank top.
He froze, the motion of settling her jacket pausing as his eyes caught the design. A crescent moon. A wing. A blade. Sharp, deliberate strokes that weren’t careless or impulsive. This meant something.
“You have a tattoo?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Shepard glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Not what you expected?”
“Didn’t expect anything.” His mandibles twitched, gaze flicking to where the ink had disappeared beneath her collar. “What’s it mean?”
She shrugged, a little too casual. “It’s related to a story my dad used to tell me. The Knights of the Lunar Veil. Heard of it?”
Garrus shook his head. He had heard it. He imagined most turian children had at one point or another. But he hadn’t heard it in a very long time, and he was curious to hear her tell it.
She smiled. “Ok, give me a minute to remember how it goes.”
Something in her tone told him she knew it by heart, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t ready to tell him just yet.
“Alright,” he said simply. He didn’t press. But he needed to know.
They’d only walked another block before Shepard let out a quiet, tired groan and stopped in her tracks. “Hang on,” she muttered, reaching down.
Before Garrus could ask what she was doing, she grabbed his arm to balance herself and started unbuckling her heels.
“You’re seriously taking off your shoes?”
“Garrus, we’ve been walking and dancing for hours,” she said, exasperated but grinning. “My feet are done.”
He looked down at the utterly impractical stiletto heels in her hand and then at the street ahead of them. “And you’re just gonna walk back barefoot?”
“Yeah.” She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Garrus blinked. “Jane, you can’t just—what if there’s glass or—”
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s ever happened before.”
“That’s not a guarantee it won’t happen now.”
“I’ll be fine, Garrus.”
She took exactly two steps before he exhaled sharply, already over this entire situation. “Damn it, Jane—”
With one swift motion, he scooped her up, one arm under her legs, the other bracing her back, ignoring the startled noise she made. One second she was walking. The next, she was in his arms, and she did not get to argue.
“Garrus!”
“You can’t argue if your feet aren’t on the ground,” he said matter-of-factly.
She laughed—really laughed—head tipping back slightly. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her laugh quite like that before. And spirits… he loved it.
“You’re ridiculous,” she huffed, but she didn’t fight him. She just sighed dramatically and rested her arms around his shoulders, like it wasn’t even a question of whether or not she trusted him to carry her.
“Fine, you win.”
He smirked. “I usually do.”
And with that, he kept walking—Shepard in his arms, her heels dangling from her fingers, her breath warm against his shoulder.
And maybe, just maybe—he didn’t want the walk to end too soon.
Garrus
The door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss, sealing out the world.
Shepard stepped inside without hesitation, shrugging off her jacket as she walked further in, rolling her shoulders like she was finally letting herself unwind.
Garrus followed, watching her for a moment before asking, “You want something to drink?”
She glanced at him, smirking slightly. “Surprise me.”
He huffed, shaking his head as he grabbed two glasses and a bottle of brandy from the small cabinet near the counter. It wasn’t the fancy stuff—he didn’t exactly keep top-shelf liquor around—but it was good, something with enough warmth to settle them after the night they’d had.
By the time he turned back with the glasses, she was already perched on the edge of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her.
“So,” he said, settling in beside her, “Did you remember the story?”
Shepard paused, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. Then she exhaled through her nose—almost a laugh. “You won’t get the full effect unless you can actually see it.”
Before he could ask what she meant, she set her glass down, turned her back to him, and in one smooth motion, lifted her tank top over her head.
Garrus froze.
For a split second, his entire brain faltered. She wasn’t bare—not exactly. She still had her bra on, the fabric of her shirt draped loosely in front of her, still covering herself—but the ease with which she did it, the complete lack of hesitation, made something tighten in his chest.
She trusted him. Without question.
And then his eyes fell to the tattoo.
The crescent moon, the blade, the wing—etched across her back in bold strokes of deep blue ink. Deliberate. Meaningful. Permanent.
“My dad used to tell me this story when I was a kid,” she said, voice steady. “The Kingdom of Evernight stood at the edge of the known world, shrouded in twilight. The people there didn’t follow the sun—they followed the moon.”
Garrus found himself leaning forward slightly, drawn in by the cadence of her voice.
“When war came—when enemies without honor marched on the kingdom—thirteen warriors swore an oath: If the sun will not rise for us, we shall become the light in the dark. They became the Knights of the Lunar Veil.”
She paused, and Garrus’ gaze traced the ink on her skin as she spoke—the crescent moon, the wing, the blade.
“Each knight bore a sigil,” she continued. “The crescent moon, for the light they swore to be when all else was lost. The wing, for the freedom they sacrificed, bound forever to their duty. The blade, for the unyielding steel of their hearts.”
At some point, without realizing it, his talons drifted forward—light, reverent. He traced the ink slowly, following the sharp lines and soft curves, barely grazing her skin. The movement was instinct. Careful.
She didn’t stop him. Just kept talking, her voice steady as he followed the curve of the wing where it spread across her back and over her shoulder like something living.
“The knights turned the tide of war again and again,” she said quietly. “But all legends have their end. The kingdom’s rulers, afraid of the power the knights wielded, bartered peace with the enemy—one that demanded the knights be cast aside. Outlawed. Erased.”
Garrus’ talons paused at her shoulder blade. He knew this story. Knew how it ended. But hearing it from her, feeling the weight of it beneath his touch—it was different.
“Rather than submit, the Lunar Knights vanished into legend,” she finished. “Some say they scattered to the far reaches of the world. Others say they faded into the stars, watching over the night. But those who still believe say that when the sky is at its darkest, and the crescent moon hangs high, the knights still ride—protecting those who cannot protect themselves.”
She leaned her head slightly as his talons traced over her shoulder one last time, and the trust in that simple gesture hit him harder than any bullet ever had.
When she pulled her shirt back on and turned to face him again, he realized he still hadn’t breathed properly since she started.
There was a beat of silence.
“We should probably get some sleep,” she murmured, half-smiling.
Garrus exhaled a slow, amused breath. “Yeah. Probably.”
Neither of them moved—not right away. Instead, they kept talking, easing into conversation, letting the warmth of the brandy and the quiet hum of the apartment settle around them.
And somewhere in the midst of it, exhaustion finally caught up. Neither of them meant to fall asleep, but they did—somewhere between talking and not talking, between shared glances and quiet admissions, they drifted.
When Garrus woke up later—hours later—she was still there, still next to him on the couch. At some point, they’d shifted, settled, ended up closer than before. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder, her breathing slow and even.
He didn’t move. Didn’t dare.
Because for once, he wasn’t alone.
And Garrus wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be again.
Shepard
Shepard stirred, the slow pull of consciousness settling in before she was fully awake.
The first thing she noticed was warmth—the kind that wasn’t just from the throw blanket draped over her, or the ambient temperature of the room. The second thing she noticed was weight—a presence beside her, solid and steady.
Her brow furrowed slightly as she blinked herself awake, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the apartment.
And then it clicked.
Garrus.
She had fallen asleep on the couch with Garrus. Not just near him. Against him.
Her head was resting lightly against his shoulder, the faint scent of brandy and something uniquely him lingering in the air. His arm was draped loosely near her—not quite around her, but close. Closer than she ever thought they’d be.
She didn’t move, didn’t even think about it. Instead, for just a moment, she let herself feel it.
The night before filtered back in waves—the dancing, the ramen, the story, his talons tracing her tattoo—and suddenly, this didn’t feel strange.
It felt… right.
Not dangerously right. Not in a way that made her panic or second-guess every decision. Just… right in a way she didn’t want to disturb.
She turned her head slightly, just enough to glance up at him, and that’s when she realized—he was still asleep.
Shepard had only seen Garrus sleep once before, on that night he stayed with her when she broke down over Nihlus. But even then, it had only been for a minute, maybe less. That time, he had stirred almost instantly, like his instincts wouldn’t allow him to rest.
But now? Now he was still.
His breathing was slow and even, mandibles relaxed, head tilted just slightly in her direction. He looked… at peace. Relaxed in a way she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before.
A small, unexpected warmth pressed at the edges of her thoughts—something steady, something certain. He trusted her enough to sleep. And for some reason, that meant more than she wanted to admit.
She didn’t dare move. She let herself stay just a few moments longer, let herself feel the way her own breathing naturally synced with his, let herself acknowledge the part of her that didn’t want to get up at all.
Then, Garrus stirred.
She felt it first—the shift in his breathing, the way his body instinctively tensed before realizing there was no danger. Then his eyes opened, slow and steady, flickering with recognition as they landed on her.
Their eyes met. For a second, neither of them spoke.
They were still close—too close. Close enough that it should have been awkward, close enough that one of them should’ve pulled away by now.
But neither of them did.
Shepard could almost see the same thought flickering in his eyes—the quiet realization of how right last night had been, the unspoken understanding that they had become better friends than either of them had realized.
Finally, Garrus broke the silence.
“…Morning, Jane.”
His voice was lower, rough with sleep.
She smirked, but it was softer than usual. Lazy almost.
“Morning, Garrus.”
Neither of them moved, because neither of them wanted to.