Shepard
The second time Shepard woke up, it wasn’t to warmth, but to the absence of it.
She blinked herself into consciousness, frowning slightly as her fingers flexed against the throw blanket that had been draped over her. The couch was still as comfortable as it had been last night, and the space beside her was still warm—but empty.
Garrus was gone.
She sat up slowly, brushing her hair out of her face. She wasn’t used to waking up alone in someone else’s space. Then again, this wasn’t just someone. And besides, it wasn’t like they’d—No. Don’t even think about that.
Her thoughts were still catching up when the door slid open, and the scent hit her first—fresh coffee, something warm, something good. Then came the familiar sound of Garrus’ boots against the floor, followed by his voice, casual, like he hadn’t just left her alone in his apartment while he ran errands.
“Thought you’d still be out,” he said, setting a bag down on the counter. “Figured I’d grab breakfast.”
Shepard stretched, rolling her shoulders. “Didn’t even realize you left.”
Garrus smirked. “I’m surprised.”
She scoffed, tossing the blanket off as she stood. “You left me on your couch, not in a warzone. Not that surprising.”
He huffed in amusement, pulling out a pair of coffee cups from the bag. “Figured I owed you real coffee. You drink enough of that Alliance-grade shit, I’m starting to worry it’s altered your DNA.”
Shepard rolled her eyes but took the offered cup anyway, inhaling deeply as she leaned against the counter. “What would I do without you?”
Garrus chuckled as he pulled out whatever food he’d grabbed. Shepard could already tell it smelled incredible, but before she could ask what it was, her omni-tool pinged. She glanced at the sender. Sean.
SEAN [10:54]: You alive?
JANE [10:55]: I think so. How was your company?
Garrus noticed the way she was staring at her omni-tool. “Something wrong?”
She smirked, shaking her head. “Sean.”
Garrus made a noise in the back of his throat that could have been anything, but she didn’t miss the way his mandibles flicked. Her omni-tool lit up again.
SEAN [10:57]: Eh. You know how it is. Actually, from the rumors I’m hearing, your night was far more interesting than mine.
Shepard raised a brow. “Huh.”
Garrus, already focused on his food, glanced over. “Huh, what?”
Shepard didn’t answer right away, just tapped out a reply.
JANE [10:59]: Lunch today?
She didn’t know what rumors he was hearing, but she sure as hell wanted to find out. Garrus was still watching her, waiting. She locked her omni-tool and shrugged, turning back to the coffee instead. “Nothing.”
For a second, she thought he might call her on it, might press for more, but he didn’t. Instead, he just exhaled through his nose and slid a small takeout container toward her. “You’re gonna want this before the coffee.”
She raised a brow but took it, popping the lid. Warm. Fluffy. Perfectly cooked eggs with just the right amount of seasoning.
Shepard smirked. “You keep this up, Garrus, and I’m going to start expecting breakfast after every night out…Well first I might schedule more shore leave…”
Garrus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he picked up his own drink. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat.”
She did. And then, without thinking about it too much, she grabbed the throw blanket again and pulled it over her shoulders, sinking back into the couch. She had places to be today, but right now? She was exactly where she wanted to be.
Her omni-tool pinged again. Shepard glanced at the screen, half-expecting some follow-up about where to meet Sean for lunch. Instead—
SEAN [11:03]: Sure. I’ve always been curious if turians are any good in bed.
Shepard choked on her coffee. Literally.
A sharp inhale, a cough, then a half-sputtered attempt to not die as Garrus turned his head, immediately alarmed. “You okay?”
She waved him off, coughing and swallowing, finally getting enough air back in her lungs. “Fine.”
Garrus narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. “You don’t sound fine.”
Shepard exhaled through her nose, locking the damn omni-tool before he could see the message. “Coffee went down wrong.” That was technically true.
Garrus hummed, skeptical but letting it go. Meanwhile, Shepard ran through at least five different scenarios in her head—all of which involved interrogating someone.
She knew what he was doing. Sean didn’t ask things just to ask. He didn’t bring this up out of nowhere. He must have heard something. Her omni-tool pinged again.
SEAN [11:06]: When I got back to the club, your crew was settling bets and placing new ones. That’s what I get for leaving early, huh?
Spirits… What the hell is the crew saying? Shepard groaned, dragging a hand down her face. Great. Just great.
Garrus tilted his head, still watching her. “You sure you’re—”
“I’m fine, Garrus.” A beat of silence. Then he smirked. “You’re lying.”
Shepard exhaled sharply. “Shut up and eat your breakfast, Vakarian.”
For now, she’d deal with Sean over lunch.
Garrus
The ward had settled into something quieter. The liveliness of the concert, the party, was long behind him, but Garrus was still trying to make sense of it all. Make sense of what the hell had happened the night before.
She had chosen him. That much he knew. And yet, as he made his way through the market, scanning through different stalls, his mind kept circling back to what had happened that morning.
Sean.
Shepard nearly choking on her coffee after getting that message. The way her expression had flickered—only for a second—before she brushed it off. She said it was nothing. But Shepard never said nothing when it actually was nothing.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his thoughts back into something more tangible. He had things to do. Stock up on supplies, grab another bottle of brandy, maybe find a few more things before they shipped out tomorrow.
That’s why he was here. Not because he was wondering if he’d see her again before they departed. Not because he was still trying to rationalize why she’d chosen him last night.
Spirits, get it together, Vakarian.
His eyes scanned the shelves, searching out the same brandy he always got when something caught his attention—a bottle of human whiskey. BH-230 Dark Rye.
Without thinking, he picked it up, turning it over in his hands, weighing the thought in his mind. It wasn’t like she had asked him to get it. Hell, it wasn’t even like she’d expect it. But she would drink it.
He scoffed to himself, shaking his head as he carried both bottles to the counter. Just being practical, he told himself. She’s been drinking my brandy—only fair.
If that was a lie, he wasn’t going to think about it too hard.
After paying, he stepped back onto the Citadel streets, the crowd around him fluid and familiar. It felt like he had spent a lifetime here, but now? It didn’t feel the same.
Because Shepard wasn’t here. She was off somewhere, having lunch with Sean.
His mandibles twitched, his grip tightening on the bag just slightly. She had chosen him last night, but Sean hadn’t been there when she did. So maybe it didn’t mean anything after all.
Besides, I’m exactly where I want to be. Her words echoed in his mind, settling his doubts more than he realized. She had already told him she and Sean weren’t together. Hadn’t been for a long time. Why was he still thinking about it? Even if she was, what difference did it make?
Damn it…Seris… He sighed, pulling up his omni-tool, scrolling to Seris’ name.
GARRUS [12:28]: Sorry about last night. I looked for you before I left but couldn’t find you.
That was a lie… He hadn’t looked for her. Truthfully, he had completely forgotten about her until just now. Hadn’t meant to.
A few minutes passed. Then—
SERIS [12:30]: Wow. Didn’t expect an apology. So I’m guessing it wasn’t just the drinks, then?
Garrus frowned, his mandibles flicking.
GARRUS [12:31]: What’s that supposed to mean?
SERIS [12:33]: Please. I saw how you looked at her. The entire club did. Never thought you’d be one to have a thing for a human.
His stomach twisted. What was she talking about?
GARRUS [12:36]: It’s not like that.
SERIS [12:37]: Mm. Sure. You keep telling yourself that, Vakarian.
He didn’t respond, just closed his omni-tool and exhaled. Seris was wrong. She had to be. Because Shepard was just his friend. And he didn’t have a fetish for humans.
So why does it matter?
Shepard
The café Sean had picked was the kind of place that looked effortlessly expensive—sleek metallic finishes, wide floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Presidium, the kind of muted, atmospheric music that made you feel like you were supposed to be having important conversations.
Shepard had rolled her eyes the second she walked in.
“Trying to impress me, Belmore?” she’d asked, settling into her seat across from him.
Sean just grinned. “I always impress you, Sparky.”
She laughed, but she couldn’t deny the food was good.
They were halfway through lunch, plates half-finished between them, when Sean finally leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against his glass.
“So,” he started, dragging the word out, “are we gonna talk about it, or are you just gonna pretend I don’t know?”
Shepard didn’t even look up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sean laughed. “Right, because I didn’t spend the morning hearing about all the rumors flying around the Citadel right now.”
Shepard exhaled slowly, stabbing at a piece of food on her plate. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Sean smirked. “Well, for starters, the moment I got back to the club last night, your crew was still placing bets.”
Shepard groaned, running a hand down her face. “Of course they were.”
“Oh, but that’s not the best part.” Sean leaned in, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I heard some particularly colorful theories about what happened after you left.”
Shepard took a slow sip of her drink. “Let me guess. That I went home with you?”
Sean scoffed. “Sparky, I didn’t even make the list.”
That made her pause. She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Oh yeah.” Sean grinned. “Apparently, I was out the second you walked out of that club with him.”
Shepard went still. She knew exactly who he meant, but she asked anyway. “Who?”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Sparky. The turian. Vakarian.”
Shepard exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”
Sean blinked. Then he actually laughed—loud, sharp, entirely amused. “Oh, no way,” he grinned, shaking his head. “You really are lying to yourself.”
Shepard scowled. “Sean.”
“No, no, this is adorable.” Sean leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand. “You really think no one noticed?”
She rolled her eyes. “Noticed what? That I danced with him? That we got food? We’re friends, Sean.”
Sean smirked. “Friends who left together.”
“We leave together all the time. Spirits, you and I eat together, sometimes travel together, I go to events with you and we don’t sleep together anymore.”
“But we’re not talking about us. Besides, most people do assume you and I sleep together on and off.” Sean quipped.
“We didn’t sleep together,” she stated, firm.
Sean huffed a laugh. “That’s not the part I’m questioning, Sparky.”
She glared at him.
Sean just shook his head, still grinning. “You know, I’ve seen you with a lot of people over the years. But last night? That was different.”
“It wasn’t,” Shepard insisted.
“Right,” Sean said, dragging the word out. “And what does he think?”
Shepard huffed. “Garrus doesn’t think anything. He’s not into humans.”
Sean snorted. “Bullshit.”
Shepard’s head snapped up, narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me?”
Sean tilted his head, amused. “He either lied to you, or you’re lying to yourself, Sparky.”
She shook her head. “No. He told me. Directly. We talked about it.”
“And he said what, exactly?” Sean pressed, watching her carefully.
She hesitated. “He… he said he doesn’t have a fetish for humans.”
Sean raised an eyebrow. “A fetish? Not that he doesn’t find you attractive?”
Shepard opened her mouth. Then closed it.
Sean grinned. “Oh, this is delicious,” he said, sitting back, stretching lazily. “So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that that turian, the one who couldn’t stop watching you last night, the one who literally chose you over his date—”
Shepard stiffened. “That’s not—”
Sean kept going. “—the one who left with you, got food with you, carried you home because you couldn’t walk in those stupidly hot death traps you call shoes—and yes, people saw that too.”
She glared. “Sean—”
“—you’re telling me he doesn’t want you?”
Shepard exhaled slowly through her nose, jaw tight.
Sean just shook his head, grinning. “You really are blind.”
She sighed, leaning back, rubbing at her temples. “Sean.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying, if you really believe that, maybe you should ask him again.”
Shepard scoffed. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be a weird conversation.”
Sean chuckled. “What’s weirder, Sparky? Asking him now—or figuring it out too late?”
She didn’t answer.
She wasn’t sure she could.
Garrus
There was no sunset on the Citadel, no fading sky—only the slow shift of the city’s neon pulse. Daytime storefronts dimmed, their signs flickering off one by one, while the moody glow of clubs, bars, and casinos surged to life in their place. The Wards had their own rhythm, a quiet transition from one life to another, and Garrus had been watching it unfold, his thoughts elsewhere, when his omni-tool buzzed.
JANE [19:42]: You home?
His mandibles twitched. Yeah, he was home.
He waited exactly two minutes before answering. Just enough to not seem like he had been staring at his omni-tool.
GARRUS [19:44]: Yeah.
Ten minutes later, she knocked.
She walked in like she belonged there, looking like herself again. Except this time, he knew things would never be the same.
Gone was the smokey-eyed supermodel from last night, the woman who had stolen every damn breath from his lungs before he even realized what was happening. Now she was back in her usual clothes—black joggers, a fitted white tank, and her N7 hoodie, sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, a few strands falling loose around her face. No layers of jewelry, no heels, no stage lights—just Jane.
And yet… he couldn’t unsee the woman who walked into that club and turned every single head.
He tried to push the thought away as she stepped inside, exhaling through her nose as she dropped a bottle of top-shelf turian brandy onto his table.
He raised a brow plate. “Figured I owed you a decent bottle after all your generosity,” she said, smirking.
Garrus huffed. She didn’t have to do that. But he wasn’t going to argue, either.
Instead, he grabbed two glasses—because that was what they did now. He poured her drink, just like before. And she poured his. Unspoken. Understood.
They clinked glasses, and she took a slow sip, watching him.
And that’s when she said it. “By the way, you may hear some rumors.” Her voice was soft, hesitant.
Garrus exhaled sharply through his nose. He had been waiting for this. “Oh?” He leaned back, letting his mandibles twitch in amusement. “That bad, huh?”
After seeing the crew’s faces the night before, he had expected it. But to his surprise, she didn’t laugh it off. She didn’t joke, didn’t smirk, didn’t even seem mildly amused. Instead, she looked guilty—like she had done something wrong. Like she was actually apologizing to him.
Shepard exhaled, shifting the glass in her hands. “Depends on your definition of bad.”
Garrus’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t playing this up. She was actually worried about what people were saying.
He tilted his head. “Alright, I’ll bite. What are people saying?”
Shepard hesitated, and that wasn’t like her. Finally, she set her glass down, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m used to rumors about me and Sean. People expect that—rockstar’s ex-girlfriend, whatever. But this…” She exhaled sharply. “This is different.”
Garrus watched her carefully, mandibles going still.
“Apparently,” she continued, voice tight, “the rumors are that I either seduced my turian subordinate, or that you’ve got a thing for humans and I was… convenient.” She finally looked at him, and the guilt in her expression was unmistakable. “Either way, it makes you look bad…. I…”
She closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath, then forced herself to meet his gaze again. “I guess…I’m used to that too, in a way. What they’ve always said about my father raising me. That this is what happens when you blur those lines.”
Her jaw tightened. “But…my father was my father. Not many turians, or humans, who would cross him. My grandmother…well same. But you? You’re just a C-Sec officer under my command and…”
Her words trailed off, the implication obvious, but it was as if she couldn’t quite say it.
Garrus stared at her for a long moment, processing.
She was worried. Not about her own reputation—she could weather that storm. She was worried about his. About what this would do to him in the turian community, with his family, to his career, to how people saw him.
And that guilt—that weight she was carrying—it hit him harder than any rumor ever could.
He almost choked on the next sip of his drink, not from the implications, but from the realization that she thought this was her fault. That she thought she had somehow damaged him.
Shepard’s expression flickered. “Yeah,” she said, voice almost too controlled. “That’s about what I expected.”
Garrus set his glass down, shaking his head. “Wait, wait, wait—you mean to tell me I spent one night not in the cargo bay, and suddenly I have stories to tell?”
She let out a small, strained chuckle, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. She was still carrying it, still feeling responsible for putting him in this position.
And that was what did it. That was what made something settle deep in his chest. She should never feel bad for making his life complicated. After everything she had done for him, for her crew, for this mission—after last night, after she had chosen him—she had nothing to apologize for.
He grinned. “Oh, this is fantastic,” he said, mandibles flicking with amusement. “Does this mean I get bragging rights now?”
Shepard blinked. For just a fraction of a second, her expression flickered—not discomfort or annoyance, but something else. Something like relief.
She recovered quickly, laughing as she picked her glass back up. “You better hope the Council doesn’t hear that. They already think I’m too much of a wild card.”
Garrus smirked. “Well, now I definitely have to play along.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. And that was what finally got to him—because Jane Shepard never let things slide. The Jane he knew would have shut this down outright. But instead, she was letting it happen.
And some part of him knew this meant something to her, too.
He exhaled, finishing off his drink before pushing off the counter. “Come on,” he said.
She looked at him, questioning. “Where…?”
“Let’s go find some dinner.”
Shepard blinked. “You want to be seen in public with me after that? You know that’ll just make it worse. People will probably say we spent all day in bed together.”
He grinned, tilting his head. “Jane, if people are watching, might as well give them something to talk about, right?”
She let out a slow laugh, shaking her head, but she got up.
And just like that, he proved it didn’t matter.
He was going to dinner with Jane Shepard regardless of who was watching or what they wanted to say.
Shepard
The last morning of shore leave always had a distinct energy—a quiet transition from relaxation back to duty. Crew members filtered in, some moving with the ease of routine, others clearly dragging after two days of overindulgence.
Shepard watched them as she leaned against a stack of cargo crates, arms crossed, posture relaxed but mind already shifting gears. Ashley looked like she was functioning on pure spite and coffee. Kaidan moved carefully, like sudden movements might kill him. Even Tali seemed slower than usual, her usual energetic bounce noticeably absent.
The Normandy loomed ahead, docked and waiting, its sleek silhouette familiar against the artificial glow of the Citadel’s upper wards.
She should board. She would board. But for now, she just… watched.
She caught sight of Garrus as he stepped off the elevator, his gaze finding hers immediately. He came to stand next to her, leaning against the crates in the same easy way he always did, settling in beside her without a word.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Shepard tilted her head slightly toward the crew. “Think they partied two nights in a row?”
Garrus huffed. “Oh, absolutely.”
She smirked. “Well, at least I didn’t have to chase them down at 0600, I’ll call it a win.”
His mandibles flicked in amusement. “Generous of you.”
“I have my moments.”
They fell back into comfortable silence, watching the ship together.
Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard caught the occasional glance from the crew as they passed—subtle, but there. Quiet acknowledgment, knowing smirks, a few hushed whispers.
Then she spotted Wrex. He was standing near the Normandy’s airlock, arms crossed, shifting through a pile of credit chits. Distributing some. Collecting others.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. He was settling bets.
The krogan let out that low, knowing chuckle of his, inspecting his winnings before casting an unmistakably pleased glance in her and Garrus’ direction.
Shepard shook her head, sighing. “Unbelievable.”
Garrus glanced at her, then followed her gaze. The moment he spotted Wrex, his mandibles twitched, and a breath of laughter escaped him. “Well. At least someone made a profit off shore leave.”
They lingered a moment longer, watching as the last of the crew filed into the Normandy, Wrex following after them with one final glance over his shoulder, still grinning.
Shepard pushed off the crates. “C’mon, Vakarian. Let’s get back to it.”
Garrus fell into step beside her, the two of them boarding together, stepping back into the ship like it hadn’t been two days since they last stood here.
As they entered the bridge, Joker was already at his station, his usual lopsided smirk already in place. He barely turned his head before calling out over his shoulder—
“See, Commander? I told you shore leave was a good idea.” He paused, just long enough to make it pointed. “Looks like it worked out pretty well for you.”
Shepard felt Garrus go still beside her for half a second.
She kept her expression neutral, but she could feel the heat creeping up the back of her neck. “Set a course for Noveria, Joker.”
“Aye, aye, Commander,” Joker said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.
The Normandy’s engines rumbled to life beneath them, and just like that—shore leave was over.
The mission awaited.
And whatever the hell had happened over the last two days?
That wasn’t going away anytime soon.