Tag: has room

  • Chapter 20

    Shepard

    Just like before, Garrus walked with her from the docks, steps falling into an easy rhythm beside hers. He always did—right up to the point where their paths split.

    “I’ll let you know if I find anything. But… Jane?” He tilted his head, brow plate quirking until she met his eyes. “Take some time to relax. Even you can’t keep going forever.”

    She huffed a soft laugh. “I could say the same about you, Garrus.”

    He shook his head and turned away, voice already fading with distance. “I’ll see you around, pyjak.”

    That made her laugh. He always knew how to land the final blow.

    But maybe he was right. Her shoulders ached with the weight of dead ends. And worrying wasn’t getting them any closer to a lead. Until they heard something concrete, all she could do was wait… and try not to pace a trench into the deck.

    When her parents suggested dinner that night, she didn’t hesitate. It had been a long time since the three of them were in the same place at the same time. She let herself fall into it—just for a while.

    Her mother had picked the restaurant, of course. Some sleek, overdecorated place in the upper wards where everything shimmered under soft lighting. Hannah always wanted to try somewhere new when she was on shore leave. Meanwhile, if it was up to her and her father, they would have found themselves in some little hole in the wall somewhere in the lower wards.

    But they both went along with it. Her mom didn’t ask for much. And if she was being honest… she didn’t mind getting dressed up once in a while.

    When she opened the closet, her eyes landed on the blue dress. The one she’d bought on a whim and never worn. More expensive than it had any right to be… but it had been love at first sight.

    Tonight’s as good a night as any, she thought, reaching for it.

    She pulled her brown leather jacket over her shoulders to dress it down, slipped on the boots that made her feel tall and grounded, and tied her hair up in a ponytail.

    Not overdone. Not too much. Just… enough.

    When they arrived at the restaurant, she and Selvek exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing. Then, without warning, her mother’s expression lit up as she waved toward someone.

    Shepard followed her gaze—and froze.

    Garrus.

    He was leaning against the bar, drink in hand. The soft glow of the restaurant’s lighting caught the sharp angles of his plating, tracing the lines of his face. He looked relaxed, posture easy… but the slight twitch of his mandibles gave him away.

    Then she saw the woman sitting beside him.

    Oh.

    Something settled in her stomach, heavy and unwanted. It wasn’t quite jealousy. Not exactly. It was the quiet, bitter realization that it would never be her sitting there with him like that.

    She had known, logically, that he was probably still trying to date. Of course he is.

    It made sense. The mission was stressful, dangerous—he needed an outlet. And there weren’t any options on the Normandy… not ones he was interested in, anyway.

    Her mother, completely unaware of the derailment in her thoughts, smiled brighter and waved him over again.

    Shepard barely resisted the urge to sink through the floor.

    “Garrus!” Hannah called, warm and casual.

    He turned, eyes scanning the restaurant until they landed on them. Shepard watched recognition flicker across his face—surprise first, then something unreadable—before his mandibles flared slightly and he started toward them.

    He didn’t have a choice. Hannah had already invited him over.

    Selvek, beside her, said nothing. But she felt his gaze flick her way. Sharp. Measuring.

    Garrus reached them in seconds, his posture still slightly unsure, but his voice was steady.

    “Staff Lieutenant, sir.” He gave both of her parents a respectful nod before turning to her. “Jane.”

    She lifted her chin, forced the edges of a smile into place. “Garrus.”

    Hannah, blissfully unaware of the sudden tension, gave him a knowing look. “Please, it’s just Hannah. Are you here alone? If you are, you should join us.”

    And just like that, Shepard watched as Garrus probably regretted every decision he had made today. At least the choice of restaurant.

    His mandibles twitched, shifting slightly as he hesitated.

    “…No,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. “I’m on a date.”

    She felt it then. The sting. Quick, sharp, and gone before it could settle. So fleeting she almost didn’t recognize it before she was already forcing it down.

    She smothered it instantly. “Mom, my crew already spends enough time dealing with me. I don’t think they need to see more of me while they’re on shore leave.”

    Her voice was even, laced with the kind of mild embarrassment that only parents could inflict.

    Garrus hesitated again, like he’d caught something in her expression. But before he could say anything else, Hannah nodded in understanding.

    “Well, I won’t keep you,” her mother said, smiling. “Maybe next time we can finally catch you, in person, when you’re free.”

    Garrus cleared his throat and gave a short nod. “Yeah. Maybe next time.”

    “Enjoy your night, Garrus.” Shepard added casually.

    Then, just like that, he turned and walked back toward the bar. She didn’t watch him go. Didn’t let herself. She didn’t want to watch his date’s reaction. Watch as she probably put her hands all over him.

    Instead, she turned back to her parents, pushing the entire moment away. Her father was still looking at her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t call attention to the fact that he had noticed.

    But he had. He always did, and she could already feel the scrutinizing gaze. He knew. But she just pretended not to notice.

    Instead, she exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “Come on,” she said, gesturing toward the host stand. “Let’s eat.”

    And, with far more effort than it should have taken, she walked forward, leaving the moment behind her.


    Garrus

    The glass in his hand felt heavier than it should have. Though he wasn’t sure why.

    He’d been in this exact situation before. The Citadel. A bar. A woman leaning in beside him, smiling like she already knew how the night would end. It was familiar. Routine.

    And yet, something felt off. He should’ve been relaxed—this was supposed to be easy. That was the entire point. Blow off steam. Shut everything else out.

    His date was talking, and he was nodding when he should, answering when expected. But none of it was landing.

    His mind was elsewhere. On her.

    He’d been fine until Hannah Shepard waved him over. Until he turned around and saw Jane standing there. In that dress.

    And now? Now it was burned into his mind. The way the soft, blue fabric shifted when she moved—shorter in front and flowing low behind her. Strappy boots that made her legs look like a damn weapon. The way the leather bodice wrapped around her, structured and unapologetic beneath the edge of her jacket. Casual. Lethal. Effortless.

    She didn’t just wear it. She was it. A study in contradictions. Just like the night of the concert.

    And now he was sitting here, pretending to listen, while all he could hear was her voice.

    “Enjoy your night, Garrus.”

    Perfectly casual. Perfectly controlled. But… there had been something.

    A flicker of something.

    Something in her eyes, in the way she had looked at him before covering it up so seamlessly that he almost believed he imagined it. Almost.

    His mandibles twitched, jaw tightening.

    Beside him, his date shifted closer, fingers brushing against the plating of his forearm. “So… who was your friend?”

    He blinked. It took him a second to realize she meant Jane.

    “Oh.” He exhaled, rolling his shoulders in a weak attempt to ground himself. “That… was Jane.”

    No. That wasn’t right. Not for her.

    “Commander Jane Shepard,” he corrected.

    His date smirked, head tilted. “The Spectre? You know the first human Spectre?”

    Her tone was light. Almost dismissive. It made something inside him bristle.

    “I… yeah. I serve under her.” His voice came out lower, quieter. His thoughts weren’t here.

    They were with her. The sound of her voice. The line of her collarbone, the way the fabric dipped low in the back, just below the jacket.

    He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He needed to focus. She was his Commander. His best friend. She was human.

    And he didn’t—didn’t what, exactly? Didn’t have a fetish for humans? His jaw clenched.

    His date leaned in closer, voice dropping. “So… your place or mine?”

    There was a pause. Long enough that even she noticed. He forced a breath. “Let’s go back to your place.”

    She smiled, clearly satisfied, and flagged the bartender. They paid the tab and left, stepping into the night.

    As the door closed behind them, it should’ve been easy. His date was attractive. Confident. Interested. She didn’t make him guess. And for a few minutes, he let himself believe that was enough.

    She leaned in. He let her. Their mandibles brushed, and her mouth traced lower—down his neck.

    It should’ve worked.

    But the moment his eyes closed?

    Jane.

    Spirits, not now.

    She shouldn’t be in his head. Not here. Not like this. But there she was. The way she smiled at him that night at the ramen place, the way she threw her arms around him in the comm room. The way she looked tonight. Like she didn’t know what she was doing to him. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was the problem.

    His body tensed. His date noticed. She pulled back, brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”

    You’re not her.

    He stepped back. Too fast. His mandibles twitched, and he already knew it was over. Because in that moment, it wasn’t confusion anymore. It wasn’t some vague attraction. Some hypothetical curiosity. This wasn’t about her being human.

    It was Jane. And it always had been.

    I don’t have a fetish for humans. Those had been his words to her. He almost laughed. He’d tried to believe it. It hadn’t been true then either.

    “I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “This isn’t going to work out.”

    Her eyes narrowed. “Are you serious?”

    He nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

    “Well,” she said, annoyed, resigned, “at least you figured it out now. I think you can see yourself out.”

    And just like that, she walked away. No dramatics. Just the sound of the door closing behind her.

    Garrus stood there in the silence. The apartment was too warm. Too still. Too…wrong. He exhaled hard, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. He had to move. Had to walk this off before his thoughts took him somewhere he wasn’t ready to go.


    Shepard

    Shepard tried to focus on dinner with her parents, but it wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. She was going through the motions—responding, laughing, engaging. But Garrus was on a date. Just back there, half a room away, by the bar.

    “Garrus seems nice,” Hannah’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, “He certainly seems to be taking care of you.”

    “Mom…”

    “Hannah, leave it.” Selvek interjected.

    “What? “I’m just saying we should have him over for dinner. We only got to talk to him when he told us about the rachni,” Hannah added.

    “I’m pretty sure my crew doesn’t need to be spending time with me or my parents while on shore leave.” Shepard’s tone was sharper than she intended.

    “You know, that handsome young marine at the bar has been staring at you for quite a while…” Hannah’s words trailed off.

    Shepard ordered another drink. She just needed to leave this place. She didn’t want to turn around. She certainly didn’t want some ‘handsome young marine’.

    “Hannah.” Selvek warned.

    “What? I’m just saying she’s on shore leave and it would be good for her to… relax…” Hannah said, letting the insinuation hang in the air.

    “What could possibly go wrong with Commander Jane Shepard, N7 operative, first human Spectre, sleeping with some random handsome young Alliance marine while on shore leave…” Her tone was more frustrated than she intended.

    She took a deep breath, then another sip of her drink, trying to ease her tone back down.

    “Spirits help me…” She buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking back at her mother. “This is what I should remember the next time someone asks what it was like to grow up the way I did. My turian father managed to teach my human mother how to have no boundaries about my love life.”

    “So you love him?” Selvek asked knowingly.

    All color drained from her face as she shot a glare at her father. “Dad!”

    Hannah and Selvek exchanged a glance. “Oh…Garrus? I see now… He is quite handsome… The blue markings play beautifully with the color of his plates…”

    Shepard groaned, exasperated. “Alright, I love you both, thank you for dinner, but I think I’m done now. I’ll see you back at home,” she said, getting up and leaning across the table to kiss each of them on the cheek before leaving the restaurant.


    Garrus

    Garrus had been walking for nearly an hour. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just needed to move, to breathe. His apartment had been too warm, the walls too close, his own thoughts too loud.

    His mandibles twitched as he exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. He had spent the entire night trying to force himself to feel something for the woman he had left at her apartment. Trying to convince himself that nothing had changed. That he was still him. That nothing about Shepard in that dress, nothing about the way she had looked at him, nothing about the way his stomach had twisted at the words “Enjoy your night, Garrus” had affected him.

    But he couldn’t. Because now? Now he was painfully aware of the truth.

    He didn’t just want her. He needed her.

    It wasn’t just some thought in the back of his mind anymore, something to ignore or push aside. No. Something had fundamentally shifted.

    And then he looked up. His breath hitched.

    She was sitting at a small taco stand tucked into the side streets of the wards, the kind that felt more real than the high-end restaurants in the Presidium or upper wards.

    Her jacket was slung over the stool next to her, leaving her exposed. The tattoo—the crescent moon, the wing, the blade—was visible in the low light, the blue ink standing out against her skin. The one that she had let him drag his talons across.

    It still didn’t cease to amaze him she had.

    The contrast of her outfit shouldn’t have worked, but it did. The soft, flowing fabric of the dress, the hard edges of the leather jacket, the dangerous elegance of the over-the-knee boots—all of it was just… her.

    She was effortlessly beautiful. And this time, for the first time, Garrus truly saw it.

    Not just as something to observe, not as something abstract. He had told himself that he wasn’t attracted to humans but Jane… she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

    He looked around, finding no one else nearby. Was she alone? Why was she alone? She had been with her parents just hours ago and now she was here. Just sitting there as if the rest of the world around her didn’t exist.

    Shepard looked untouchable tonight.

    He watched her for a while. Watched as a human walked up to talk to her. She smiled. But not genuinely. The practiced smile of Commander Shepard being pleasant. Then she simply nodded, waving off the man who had just walked up to her, likely to flirt.

    Why did she turn him down?

    His throat went dry.

    She took a sip of her beer, tapping her fingers idly against the counter, lost in thought. She hadn’t noticed him and for a moment, he just… stood there. Debating.

    This was his last chance to walk away. To keep pretending. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a breath, and finally stepped forward.

    “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his voice lower than usual.

    Shepard turned, her gaze meeting his, and Garrus felt something in his chest tighten.

    She didn’t look surprised. She just smiled.

    And damn it all, that was it.

    He sat down next to her. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to leave, so he ordered something—didn’t even think about what it was, just pointed at the menu and let the vendor do the rest. Because this wasn’t about the food.

    This was about her.

    Shepard sat beside him, one elbow resting lazily on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, the dress riding up just enough to show more of her thigh than she probably realized.

    Not that he needed reminding of why his brain had short-circuited earlier. That damn dress had already taken up permanent residence in his memory.

    She didn’t say anything at first, just glanced over as the vendor handed him a plate. Her eyes were sharp but easy, the same way she always looked at him.

    That was the problem.

    Because she didn’t know. Didn’t know what she was doing to him, how that dress had ruined him, how she’d been the only thing in his damn head since he walked away from her at that restaurant. She didn’t know that when he kissed his date, he had thought about her.

    And now? Now he was sitting next to her, pretending he could still be the man he was before tonight.

    She raised a brow, smirking. “Didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”

    Garrus exhaled, forcing himself to sound normal. “Yeah, well. Plans changed.”

    She didn’t question it. Didn’t press. Just took another bite of her taco, easy and comfortable. And that was worse. Because to her, this was nothing. Just another night, just another conversation. She had no idea he was barely holding himself together.

    He took a bite of the food in front of him, chewing slowly, trying to distract himself, but it wasn’t working. Nothing was working. His eyes flicked to her again—her jacket still draped over the stool beside her, her back still bare.

    That tattoo. He had seen it before. Had traced the ink with his fingers. But now? Now, it felt different. Because now, his mind supplied another image entirely. That tattoo, her back arched beneath his hands. Beneath his mouth.

    Spirits. Stop.

    He clenched his jaw, gripping his glass tighter.

    Then, just as he was barely keeping it together, she did something small. Innocuous.

    She wiped a bit of sauce off the corner of his mouth with her thumb, smiling at him. That same smile from the night of the concert.

    It was casual. Perfectly normal. Or it should have been. But it wasn’t. Not to him.

    Garrus went completely still.

    Then he heard it. Her heartbeat quickened. It had been steady before, slow and easy. Now? Now, it wasn’t.

    She noticed. Her hand pulled back too fast. “Sorry.”

    Her voice was different. Just barely. Just enough.

    His heart was hammering because that meant something.

    Her heart had betrayed her.

    For the first time, Garrus realized he wasn’t the only one unraveling. It suddenly all made sense. The night of the concert, the way she rushed him in the comm room.

    “So what happened to your date?” she asked, taking another sip of her beer.

    Garrus nearly choked. “What?”

    Shepard quirked an eyebrow. “Your date, back at the restaurant? Where’d she go?”

    He exhaled. “Didn’t work out.”

    Shepard tilted her head. “Oh?”

    He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Wasn’t in the right headspace.”

    She watched him for a moment. Then she smirked and leaned back. “What, Vakarian? And here I thought turians were supposed to be the experts of casual encounters.”

    He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts, but it didn’t seem to work. He leaned in, just slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Alright, Shepard. What do you say we get out of here?”

    She looked up at him, blue lights flickering against her skin, and for a moment, his heart stopped.

    Because she didn’t hesitate.

    She just smiled, finishing the last sip of her beer. “Let’s go.”


    Garrus

    They walked in easy silence, neither of them in a hurry, neither of them needing to say much.

    Shepard had draped her jacket over her shoulders again, but the back of her dress still dipped low, her tattoo peeking through the bottom. Garrus told himself he wasn’t looking. Except he absolutely was.

    He should have been thinking about where they were going. But instead? He was thinking about how her heartbeat had spiked when she touched him.

    About how she hadn’t said no. About how she always said yes to him when she seemed to say no to everyone else. She was here, with him.

    That’s when he spotted it: A combat arcade.

    Sparring rings, VR combat simulations, even an old-fashioned shooting range.

    He smirked, nudging her elbow. “Well, this seems more like your speed.”

    Shepard turned, following his gaze. Then she smiled. “You up for a round, Vakarian?”

    Garrus scoffed, crossing his arms. “In case you forgot, Shepard, you’re still wearing that dress.”

    She lifted an eyebrow. “And?”

    He tilted his head. “And I just don’t want to embarrass you in front of an audience.”

    Shepard laughed, already heading for the entrance. “Guess we’ll find out.”

    Inside, the arcade hummed with activity—the crack of simulated gunfire, the thud of fists against training dummies, the electronic beeps of score tallies. Garrus headed toward the counter to pay for a ring.

    Shepard reached for her credit chit. “I’ve got it.”

    He waved her off. “I can pay for a sparring ring, Jane.”

    “Garrus, I’m a Spectre. I probably make more than you.”

    “Probably?” He quirked a brow plate. “Try definitely. Doesn’t mean I can’t pay.”

    She smirked, but there was something in her eyes—like she was testing something. “You know, if I let you pay, someone might get the wrong idea.”

    He paused. “What idea?”

    “That this is a date.”

    The words landed harder than they should have. He forced his mandibles into something resembling amusement, kept his voice light. “Pretty sure sparring doesn’t count as a date, Jane.”

    “Guess it depends who you ask.” She shrugged, smiling, but her heartbeat—spirits, her heartbeat had kicked up again.

    He just paid. Didn’t trust himself to say anything else.

    A date?

    Was this a date? Did she want it to be?

    And if it was…Get it together, Vakarian. She was joking…right?

    Shepard made her way over to the ring, already taking off her boots. The move made her just slightly shorter, more grounded—but no less stunning.

    A few people had started to notice. Whispers. Sideways glances. Someone muttering, “Is that Shepard?”

    She either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

    She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders. “I can take you in a dress, Garrus. Question is, do you think you can take me?”

    His mandibles twitched. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. And yet? He stepped into the ring anyway.

    She grinned, settling into a ready stance.

    From the moment the match started, Garrus knew he was in trouble. She was fast—ducking, weaving, sidestepping him like she was born for this. The dress didn’t slow her down. If anything, she seemed faster. Or maybe he was just that distracted.

    She wasn’t just fighting. She was playing with him.

    And spirits, he wanted to let her.

    But he wasn’t about to make it easy.

    She came in low, and he blocked. She pivoted fast, but he countered. She moved to sweep his legs, but he sidestepped.

    And yet the entire time, all he could think about was how good she looked doing it. That distraction cost him.

    It wasn’t much. Just a fraction of a second too slow. And that’s all she needed.

    He hit the mat hard. The wind knocked from his lungs as she pinned him, her knee pressed against his ribs, her hands braced against his chest.

    There was a smattering of applause from the growing crowd, some people cheered. Someone whooped.

    Garrus barely registered it.

    She was so close. Her breath just slightly uneven, her pupils blown.

    His entire world narrowed to this moment.

    He swallowed. “Alright, Jane,” he murmured. “You win.”

    She didn’t move immediately. She just stayed there. Watching him. Then her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

    And now? All thoughts that weren’t about her, about the way she would feel in his arms, were gone.

    She finally let him up, offering her hand. He took it.

    He should have left it at that. Should have walked away.

    But before he could stop himself, the words left his mouth. “Want to grab a drink? My place?”

    She hesitated for a second, then smiled. “Always.”

    Spirits help him. He had no idea where this was going, but he couldn’t walk away. Not now.

  • Chapter 19

    Shepard

    The screen flickered, the soft blue glow casting sharp shadows across Shepard’s quarters.

    “Focus, Jane.”

    She groaned, rubbing her temples. “I am focusing. This is ridiculous.”

    Across from her, Garrus folded his arms, mandibles twitching in frustration. “You’re barely paying attention.”

    “I am paying attention. That’s the problem. I just don’t care.” Shepard huffed, slumping slightly as the decryption program flashed another failure. “Why am I doing this again?”

    “Because I refuse to keep opening every single locked crate and terminal in the galaxy that you come across,” Garrus said, deadpan.

    Shepard scoffed. “It’s not every crate—”

    “Just the ones with more complicated encryption algorithms,” Garrus quipped.

    She stared at him. “That’s a really specific accusation.”

    “It’s ninety percent of them, Jane.”

    She groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “This is a waste of time. I’m a combat specialist, Garrus. Hand-to-hand combat? I’m in. Sniper’s perch? Got it covered. Decryption? Not me.”

    “And yet I’ve seen you do it just fine when you actually focus.”

    “We’ve talked about this. I figured some stuff out when I was a kid. That’s it. The last time I remember doing anything significant with electronics I was, like, ten.”

    Garrus exhaled through his nose, clearly not buying it. “You have a military-grade omni-tool. The amount of times I’ve seen you punch something instead of trying to unlock it—”

    Before Shepard could retort, Joker’s voice crackled over the comms. “Message coming in. Patching it through.”

    Shepard turned, already shifting gears. “Commander Shepard here.”

    Admiral Hackett’s familiar voice filled the room, low and steady. “Shepard, we’ve received distress signals from a colony in the Hades Gamma cluster. They’re reporting a pirate raid—small force, but causing significant damage. You’re the closest ship in the area.”

    Shepard straightened. “Understood, Admiral. We’ll handle it.”

    The comms clicked off. Shepard groaned. “What are the odds Dr. Chakwas will let me off the ship?”

    Garrus scoffed. “None, but it doesn’t matter. There isn’t a chance I’m letting you off this ship to go deal with pirates. I’ll lock you in your quarters if you try, and I’ll be sure to leave a military grade encryption lock.”

    Shepard nearly growled at him in frustration but admitted defeat. “Fine, go get a team ready. I guess you’re handling it.”

    Garrus quirked a brow plate and nodded, then turned to walk out of her room.

    Down in the cargo bay, Shepard stood against the workbench, arms crossed as Garrus, Ashley, and Tali prepped their gear.

    “Standard sweep,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Identify hostiles, neutralize threats, secure civilians.”

    Garrus nodded, checking the sight on his rifle. “You got it, Commander.”

    She smirked. “You know, just pirates… it would probably be easy—”

    Garrus tilted his head. “Military grade encryption.”

    Shepard rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine.”

    Tali snorted. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

    Ashley slung her rifle over her shoulder, shaking her head. “They’ve been doing this since she’s been confined to the ship.”

    Shepard smirked but didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed a hand on Garrus’ arm. “Be careful.”

    “I always am, Jane,” Garrus said. “And you said it yourself, they’re only a few pirates.”

    She shouldn’t be uneasy, this should be a simple mission and yet something was bothering her. Maybe it was just that she had been stuck on the ship for a couple of weeks now and she was growing frustrated.

    “Joker, did you identify a drop point?”

    “Yes, Commander. Approaching the drop point in 3 minutes.” Joker replied.

    With that, the ground team got into the Mako and prepared to drop.

    At first, everything was fine.

    Shepard stood near Joker, watching as the first reports came in—clearing buildings, securing hostages. Tali’s voice filtered through the comms detailing enemy positions. Garrus confirmed their strategy. Ashley signaled the all-clear on their first location.

    It was just another op.

    Then, suddenly, Garrus’ voice crackled through the comms. “Taking heavy fire—”

    The transmission cut out. There was a moment of static, then dead silence.

    Shepard froze. “Garrus, say again.”

    No response. The line was gone.

    “Get them back, Joker.”

    Joker immediately started running diagnostics. “I just lost their signal.”

    Shepard’s heartbeat pounded against her chest. “What?”

    “There’s interference—some kind of jamming field. I can’t get a read on them. Sensors are useless, and comms are dead.”

    Shepard exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing the panic down. She turned to Pressly. “Can we override it?”

    Pressly shook his head. “Not without knowing the source of the interference. If it’s coming from ground-based emitters, we’d have to disable them manually.”

    She nodded, processing. The weight of it was settling deep in her chest, threatening to squeeze the air from her lungs.

    They were gone. She couldn’t reach them.

    She clenched her fists, barely aware of the slight tremor in her fingers.

    “Keep scanning. Try seeing if there’s anything we can use to get through this interference.” Shepard ordered. “I’ll be in the comm room, patch anything you get through.”

    “Aye, aye, Commander.”

    As the hours passed, the crew brought in one report after another. The scanners had been useless. They did a low pass, near the drop point but nothing was immediately obvious.

    I can’t lose him. Not like this.

    Not to some nameless pirates. Not to a jammed signal. Not to a stupid, meaningless mission.

    The thought hit her harder than she expected.

    She made her way back out to the CIC.

    “Joker, find us a secure drop point. We’ll send a team after them.” Shepard forced her voice to sound steadier than she felt.

    Joker snapped his head up. “Uh, Commander? You sure about that? We don’t even know where they are—”

    “Commander,” Pressly said cautiously, eyeing her. “Are you certain?”

    She nodded, then tapped her comm, “Wrex, get ready. You, Kaidan, and Liara are going to head down to the planet.”

    Wrex grunted, sounding actually pleased. “We’re on it, Shepard.”

    She didn’t hesitate. “Get us as close to the colony as you can, safely.”

    Please be alive.

    “Approaching drop point two, ETA two minutes.” Joker broadcast

    “This is going to be fun,” she heard Wrex over the comms.

    Before anyone could respond, the comms crackled back to life.

    “—under control. Repeat, interference is down.”

    Garrus.

    Shepard’s knees nearly buckled.

    “Garrus?”

    “We’re fine,” Garrus’ voice came through, rough but solid. “Had to take out a jammer. And a lot more pirates than we expected, but no casualties.”

    Shepard exhaled, her pulse still hammering in her ears.

    She turned away from the CIC, toward the comm room.

    “Joker, get me a status report as soon as they’re onboard.”

    “Aye, aye, Commander.”

    With that Shepard walked toward the comm room, because she couldn’t bear to go down to meet them in the cargo bay. Her heart was still pounding. The weight in her chest wasn’t lifting.

    She could have lost him, And that’s when it hit her.

    It wasn’t just worry. It wasn’t just concern for a teammate.

    It was him.

    It was the thought of losing Garrus that had nearly destroyed her. The sheer force of it left her breathless, shaking, gripping the edge of the comm console like she needed something to hold onto.

    I can’t lose you.

    She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to steady herself. Trying to blink away the tears that were betraying her.

    The worst part was that no matter what she felt, he didn’t feel the same way. He would never feel the same way. He had told her as much. I can assure you I don’t have a fetish for humans.

    She had to live with that and she had to learn to live with this. He had become her best friend, and she wouldn’t give that up for anything. She would figure this out.

    But right now? Right now, she just needed to know he was safely back aboard the Normandy.

    And breathe.


    Garrus

    Garrus stepped out of the Mako, rolling his shoulders as the ramp settled beneath his boots. His armor was scuffed, his rifle still warm from the last few shots he’d fired, but all things considered, the mission had gone well. No casualties, no serious injuries—just a few too many pirates and a comm blackout that had lasted way longer than it should have.

    Which was why, as he scanned the cargo bay, he found himself waiting for her.

    Where is she?

    His mandibles twitched. Something was off.

    Normally, after something like this—losing contact with the Normandy for hours—he would have expected Shepard would be here, waiting, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, demanding a debrief before their boots even hit the deck. He expected her to be the first thing he saw. Instead, it was Joker’s voice coming through the intercom.

    “All ground teams report status.”

    Garrus frowned. “All accounted for. Minimal injuries, mission complete.”

    Joker didn’t say anything else—just signed off, business as usual. Which made Garrus’ irritation flare even further.

    Why wasn’t she here? Had something happened? Was she back in the med bay?

    His mind immediately began running through scenarios—none of them good. Was she okay? Had she collapsed? Had something gone wrong? His steps were quick, almost instinctive as he made his way toward the CIC, already flipping on his comms.

    “Joker.”

    “Yeah, Big Guy?”

    “Where’s Shepard?”

    A beat of silence. Then Joker responded, voice casual. Too casual.

    “Still in the comm room last I checked.”

    Garrus exhaled sharply through his nose, tension shifting into something else.

    Not injured. Not in the med bay. Just… in the comm room.

    His jaw tightened. What the hell is she doing in there?

    They’d been gone for hours. Lost contact. He’d half-expected her to be pacing the cargo bay, ready to tear into him for not checking in sooner—even though the damn jammer had been out of his control.

    But she wasn’t there. She was in the comm room. Doing what? Paperwork? Checking messages?

    Maybe she was still pissed he hadn’t let her go planetside. Maybe this was her way of making a point—letting him know she didn’t need to be there when he got back. That she had better things to do than wait around for him.

    Fine.

    If she wanted to sulk, that was her problem. But he was going to tell her exactly what he thought about—

    Then he stopped. The moment he stepped inside, his mind blanked. She was not okay.

    She was standing there, her back to him, one hand gripping the edge of the console like her life depended on it. Her shoulders were tight, her head bowed slightly, but it was her breathing that made something sharp twist in his chest.

    It was uneven. Too shallow. Like she was trying to control it but failing. And her heart was racing. He could hear it louder than anything else in this room.

    Garrus hesitated, the frustration bleeding out of him as something else took its place.

    “Jane?” His voice was quieter than he expected.

    She didn’t move at first. Just inhaled sharply, like she was trying to steady herself. But then she turned.

    And before he could process what was happening, she crossed the space between them and threw her arms around him.

    Garrus went still—just for a heartbeat. Then instinct took over, and he pulled her in without question.

    She was warm, solid, real in his arms, and she clung to him, her fingers gripping the plates of his armor like she was afraid he’d disappear.

    He didn’t know what to say. Because this wasn’t just relief.

    It wasn’t just a casual, “oh good, you’re alive.”

    This was something deeper.

    This was fear. And Commander Jane Shepard didn’t get scared. Not like this. Not the paralyzing kind of fear.

    Slowly, he lowered his head, his voice quieter now. “Jane…”

    She exhaled, a breathless sound against his neck, her body still tense. “I—” Her voice caught. She swallowed, then tried again. “I wasn’t ready to lose you.”

    His stomach twisted, his grip tightening slightly.

    For a moment, he wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a C-Sec officer. He wasn’t Shepard’s second-in-command.

    He was just Garrus. And she was just Jane.

    His best friend.

    The woman he would follow anywhere. The woman who had just rushed into his arms out of fear of losing him.

    She finally pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, but didn’t let go. Her eyes flickered with something raw, something unguarded.

    “You’re my best friend, Garrus,” she said softly, like it was a confession. “I wasn’t ready to lose you.”

    The words hit harder than he expected.

    Of course he was her best friend. He knew that. But the way she said it, the way she felt in his arms? Something about it didn’t sit right with him.

    Not in a bad way. Not a bad way at all. The thoughts of that night after the concert surfaced unbidden. That was the last time she had been in his arms. She had woken up in his arms.

    Dammit, Garrus, stop.

    He wasn’t ready to think about that yet. Not now. Not ever. She was his best friend. That was it.

    So instead, he smirked.

    “Well,” he said, his voice lighter than he felt, “if this is what it takes to get a hug, I’ll have to almost die more often.”

    Shepard scoffed, rolling her eyes—but her fingers still hadn’t let go his armor.

    And his arms hadn’t let her go either.


    Shepard

    When she woke up, the fear and the panic that had gripped her the day before had finally eased. She looked around her quarters, not entirely remembering the night before at first. She remembered the comm room, standing there holding on to him. And then… why was her mind blanking?

    She shook off the last remnants of sleep, taking a quick shower. Then, just quickly putting on some workout clothes and her N7 hoodie, she made her way to the cargo bay. Still undecided between working out or not. Mostly hoping to find him there.

    She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Not really. She just needed to be there.

    With him.

    She found him exactly where she expected—standing at the workbench, hunched slightly over some project, completely absorbed. The dim lighting cast a faint blue glow over the plating of his armor, highlighting the sharp lines of his silhouette.

    For a moment, she just watched him, arms crossed, leaning slightly against the table.

    He’s here. He’s fine.

    That was enough.

    Garrus didn’t acknowledge her immediately, but that wasn’t unusual. When he was focused, everything else faded away. She could’ve stood there for ten minutes and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

    Not that she minded.

    Finally, she broke the silence. “What are you up to?”

    Garrus didn’t even look up. “Tuning the accuracy. Stability was a little off.” His voice was easy, casual, like this was just another weapon, just another project.

    She glanced at what he was working on—a pistol, sleek and compact, the kind of weapon built for precision over power.

    “Is that a Brawler IX?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

    Garrus smirked, finally sparing her a glance. “You know your pistols.”

    She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m a soldier, would probably be bad if I didn’t.”

    Garrus went back to adjusting the sight, his talons working with practiced ease. “Boosted fire rate. Smoothed out the recoil. You’d probably like it.”

    That surprised her a more than she let on. Why would it matter if she liked his pistol. It had to work for him, more than for her.

    Shepard arched a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” She reached out, gesturing for him to hand it over.

    Without hesitation, he passed it to her, watching as she tested the weight, flicked the safety, and aimed down the sights. It felt… good. The balance was perfect, the grip molding naturally to her hand. He knew what she liked, how she handled her weapons, the little adjustments she always made without thinking.

    She could already tell—he was right. She already liked it and she hadn’t even fired off a shot.

    Satisfied, she moved to hand it back to him but Garrus didn’t take it.

    Instead, he just shook his head, mandibles twitching slightly with amusement. “It’s not mine.”

    She frowned, confused. “Then whose is it?”

    A slow, knowing smirk teased her for a moment before he spoke. “Yours.”

    Shepard blinked. For a second, the words didn’t quite register.

    Then, instinctively, she looked back down at the pistol—really looked at it.

    That’s when she saw it. A detail she had overlooked before. Tiny, subtle, just beneath the barrel, etched carefully into the metal.

    “Pyjak.”

    Her breath hitched.

    Oh.

    She chuckled softly. “You noticed…” her voice was barely above a whisper.

    Of course he had noticed. But he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t pressed her—had let her process what she needed to. And that meant something.

    More than she knew how to put into words.

    “I always do, Jane,” he responded stepping closer to her.

    She swallowed, her fingers brushing over the engraving. “…When did you do this?”

    Garrus leaned back slightly, arms crossing over his chest. “Picked it up on the Citadel. Been working on it since.”

    She looked back up at him, eyes searching his face. “How did you—”

    He huffed out a soft laugh, tilting his head. “You don’t like slow firing rates or small clips. You can handle recoil, but you also have a trend towards the accuracy of a sniper rifle. Given the choice you’d take a pistol over an assault rifle. Assuming the pistol has enough power.”

    He had gotten all that just from watching her in combat? They had never spoken in depth about her weapons, not to that degree, and yet everything he said was right. She preferred a good pistol over an assault rifle any day.

    Shepard let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head. “You are something else.”

    He just shrugged, completely unfazed. “Figured you could use a new pistol that actually suited you.”

    Shepard turned the pistol over in her hands again, her thumb still tracing over the engraving.

    “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice quieter than before. “I think I could.”

    She looked up, her eyes meeting his.

    And for a moment—just a fraction of a second—there was something in his gaze. Not just satisfaction that he’d gotten the pistol right, not just the usual sharp amusement he always had when he was teasing her. This was something else.

    Something deeper.

    Like he was glad she was letting go of Nihlus. Glad she was holding his pistol in her hands. Glad she was accepting this from him.

    Like he wanted to say something but didn’t.

    Her breath caught slightly, her fingers tightening on the grip. The weight of the pistol suddenly felt different—heavier in a way that had nothing to do with its design.

    Then, before the moment could linger, she exhaled, breaking eye contact first. “I mean, we’ll see how it fires,” she said, forcing her voice back into something light, something easy. “Maybe I’ll hate it.”

    Garrus smirked, but she saw it again—that flicker of something behind his eyes before he covered it up. “Doubt it.”

    She chuckled, shaking her head, but she still didn’t put the pistol down.

    It was getting harder to ignore the way he made her feel.


    Shepard

    “Wrex, Garrus, we’ve arrived at Tuntau. Get ready and meet me in the cargo bay in ten,” Shepard called over the comms.

    She tapped a few controls on the terminal in the CIC, shifting her attention to Joker. “Alright, what have we got? Any structures that jump out on the scanners?”

    “Nothing obvious, Commander. If there’s something down there, it’s probably built into the mountains. Lot of rocky terrain,” Joker replied, eyes darting over the console.

    Shepard sighed, already regretting her life choices. Rocky terrain? Great. And Garrus? He’s probably going to enjoy every second of making my life miserable driving through it.

    When she made her way down to the cargo bay, Wrex and Garrus were already waiting by the Mako, armed and ready. Shepard strode over to her locker, grabbing her assault rifle and sniper rifle out of habit. Then, without a second thought, her hand closed around the new pistol Garrus had given her. There was no hesitation. No pause over the Kessler, no last lingering glance at the M-77 Paladin. Just this gun—her gun now.

    “Let’s hope it’s here, Wrex,” she said, stepping into the Mako.

    The second they hit the ground, it became painfully clear that Joker hadn’t been exaggerating about the terrain. The planet was a special brand of hell—craggy ridges, deep valleys, and ice-covered rock making for a rough ride.

    Shepard gritted her teeth as the Mako bounced violently over yet another ridge.

    Garrus, of course, was having the time of his life.

    “Commander,” he said, far too amused, “sensors are picking up heat signatures over those mountains.”

    “Of course it’s over the mountains…” Shepard muttered, gripping the side of the seat as the Mako jolted forward.

    Garrus chuckled, clearly enjoying himself at her expense. “It’s like you love a challenge.”

    “I hate everything,” Shepard deadpanned.

    As they crested the final ridge, they spotted it—a base built directly into the mountainside, almost hidden in the rock formations.

    The guards outside were no match for them. A few well-placed sniper shots, some quick biotic bursts from Wrex, and soon enough they were moving inside.

    The moment they stepped through the entrance, Wrex’s entire posture shifted.

    “This is the place,” he rumbled, his voice edged with certainty. “My armor’s here somewhere.”

    Shepard nodded. “Then let’s find it.”

    They encountered heavier resistance inside—mercenaries who put up a decent fight, but nothing they couldn’t handle. It was clear they weren’t expecting anyone to come knocking.

    Shepard and Garrus held the line while Wrex took out Tonn Actus himself, the krogan’s final shot precise and personal.

    Upstairs, the back room was packed with stolen armor and weapons, crates stacked high with ill-gotten gains.

    Shepard grinned, turning to Garrus with raised eyebrows.

    He didn’t even let her ask.

    “Spirits, you are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met,” he muttered, but he was already moving toward the locked crates.

    She smirked. “Think about it this way—you’re doing this for Wrex, not for me.”

    Garrus shook his head, but she caught the twitch of amusement in his mandibles as he started bypassing the locks.

    One by one, the crates popped open. The final one yielded exactly what Wrex had been looking for.

    “This is it.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost… reverent. His massive hands ran over the old plates, his expression unreadable. “I can’t believe my ancestors ever wore this piece of crap, but at least I’ve got it back.”

    Shepard smiled. “Glad we could help.”

    Wrex turned to her, his red eyes gleaming. “I might just be starting to like you, Shepard.”

    There was something in his tone—something deeper beneath the usual gruffness.

    For all his bluster, she had a feeling Wrex was a sentimentalist at heart. He stood there for a long moment, fingers grazing over the worn plates of his grandfather’s armor. His face was unreadable, his thoughts his own.

    Then, as if catching himself, he shook off the moment and gripped his shotgun with a familiar confidence.

    “Come on, Shepard,” Wrex rumbled, stepping forward. “Don’t you still have a galaxy to save? And I’ve got a contract to fulfill.”

    His slow, self-satisfied chuckle followed them as they made their way back to the Mako.

    Shepard shook her head with a smirk, falling into step beside Garrus.

    Somehow, she had the feeling Wrex was going to be sticking around for the long haul.


    Shepard

    Shepard stared at her terminal. The data flickered across the screen, but none of it mattered. They had the Mu relay coordinates. They knew Saren was looking for it. But they still had no idea where he was going or what his next move would be.

    And right now? They had no other leads.

    Her fingers clenched against the desk. She exhaled sharply, shoulders tight with frustration.

    Then the doors to her quarters slid open.

    She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

    There was only one person on this ship who would walk in unannounced. Only one person she allowed to do that.

    “You sound frustrated,” Garrus said.

    Shepard sighed, rubbing her temples. “That obvious?”

    He stepped inside, his presence familiar, steady. “Only because I know you.”

    That should have startled her—how easily he could read her. But she didn’t even question it anymore.

    Garrus leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Saren?”

    Of course he knew.

    She finally turned in her chair, looking at him. “We don’t know where he’s going, and I can’t find any other leads.”

    Her voice was softened, edged with quiet frustration. “I’m sorry.”

    Garrus chuckled, shaking his head. “Jane, you’ll find him.”

    She blinked, caught off guard by how certain he sounded. “How?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “No one seems to know where he is.”

    Garrus tilted his head, considering for a moment. “Let’s head back to the Citadel. I’ve got a few contacts I can reach out to. Maybe the Council has resources you can use.”

    Shepard exhaled, tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “And I should probably check in with Udina and Anderson.”

    He smirked. “If you’re into self-inflicted suffering, sure.”

    That earned a small smile out of her, just for a second. Then she tapped her comm.

    “Joker, set a course for the Citadel.”

    “Aye, aye, Commander.”

    She let out a slow breath, pushing off her chair. “And maybe you’re right,” she admitted. “The crew could use a break.”

    Garrus quirked a brow plate, mandibles twitching. “You included?”

    She scoffed, already heading for the door. “Let’s not get carried away, Vakarian.”

    He didn’t respond right away. But something in his expression told her that, for once, he wasn’t about to let that slide.

  • Chapter 18

    Shepard

    She woke slowly.

    The first thing she registered was warmth, not in a comfortable way, but in the way that came with too many painkillers dulling everything. The room was dim, only the soft glow of medical monitors casting faint light against the ceiling. The steady beeping of vitals pulsed in time with the low hum of the Normandy’s engines.

    Her mind struggled to pull together the last thing she remembered—the rachni, the claw, the blood. But then her focus landed on something solid.

    Someone was sitting next to her.

    Garrus.

    His arms were crossed, legs stretched out, head tilted slightly downward. He wasn’t watching her, he was asleep.

    She blinked, her mind catching up. How long has he been here?

    She shifted slightly and immediately regretted it. Pain flared through her side, sharp even through the medication. A small hiss escaped before she could stop it—just enough to stir him.

    Garrus tensed, then his eyes opened.

    For half a second, there was no recognition. Just the slight flicker of alertness, the way his talons flexed against his arms like he was bracing for something. Then, his gaze landed on her.

    And everything about him shifted.

    His shoulders relaxed, just slightly. His mandibles flicked—subtle, but there. Relief.

    “You’re still here?” Shepard rasped, her throat dry.

    Garrus scoffed, sitting up a little straighter. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jane. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up and start ordering people around before you were ready.”

    She smirked weakly, but there was something behind it. Something off-balance. “You sure it’s not because you’d miss me?”

    The silence lingered just long enough to make her stomach tighten.

    Then, finally he exhaled. “You scared the hell out of me.”

    Shepard’s smirk faltered. That threw her. Garrus didn’t say things like that. Not outright.

    “I’m fine, Garrus,” she said, shifting again. Bad idea. Pain flared instantly, and she had to grit her teeth through it.

    “Yeah, sure.” His voice was sharp, but not angry. Just… raw. “Bleeding out, unconscious, having to be carried back to the ship? Totally fine.”

    She didn’t have a response.

    And suddenly, she saw it. The way he hadn’t fully relaxed. The way he was still here. The way his voice wasn’t quite steady.

    She could make a joke. She always did.

    Not now…

    Instead, she reached for his hand.

    He hesitated briefly, then reached out, letting her take his hand. Her fingers curled lightly around his, just grounding herself. The painkillers still made everything foggy, but this? This was solid.

    Garrus exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “You’re infuriating.”

    “Yeah,” she muttered. “But you keep sticking around anyway.”

    He huffed but didn’t let go.

    “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I do.”

    She let herself fall back asleep with the feeling of his hand in hers.


    Garrus

    The comms channel crackled softly, and Joker’s voice came through, sounding just a little more nervous than usual.

    “Uh… Garrus? You busy?”

    Garrus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Joker, if this is about recalibrating the targeting VI again—”

    “No, no, nothing like that. I mean, I do have a list of minor annoyances, but this is, uh, kinda bigger.”

    Garrus narrowed his eyes. “Define bigger.”

    There was a hesitation, which immediately put Garrus on edge. Joker never hesitated.

    “So, we’ve got an incoming transmission for Shepard,” Joker said. “And I didn’t really wanna be the one to deal with it, so I figured… you could.”

    Garrus exhaled sharply. “Joker, just tell them she’s not available.”

    “Yeah, see, that’s the thing—I would, but it’s her parents.”

    That made Garrus stop.

    “…Her parents?”

    Joker’s nervous chuckle came through the line. “Yep. Specifically, both of them. Which means I’m definitely not handling this one.”

    Garrus sighed, already rubbing at the plates along his jaw. “Patch it through to the comm room.”

    Joker exhaled in pure relief. “You’re a lifesaver, Garrus.”

    Garrus didn’t dignify that with a response—he was already heading toward the comm room, adjusting his stance, mentally preparing himself.

    Jane’s parents.

    He had met Selvek, albeit only once. But her mother? That was new.

    When the transmission flickered to life, Garrus immediately recognized Selvek’s sharp, assessing gaze on the other end of the line. The older turian’s mandibles twitched slightly, his arms folded over his chest as he studied Garrus the way he would a battlefield.

    It was the human woman standing beside him, however, that caught his attention. Her presence was more contained, her expression less openly scrutinizing than Selvek’s, but there was a quiet steel in her posture that reminded him very much of Shepard.

    Selvek’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Vakarian.”

    Garrus straightened, giving a short nod. “Sir.”

    Selvek exhaled, shoulders easing a fraction. “I was expecting Jane. You being here instead means something’s wrong.”

    Garrus barely had time to respond before the woman beside him—Hannah, he assumed—immediately cut in.

    “What happened?” Her tone was sharp, military precision.

    Garrus kept his voice even. “She was injured during a mission on Noveria. She’s stable, but unconscious. Doctor Chakwas is monitoring her closely.”

    Selvek’s mandibles flared slightly, but Hannah’s expression shifted just enough for Garrus to see the flicker of worry beneath the surface.

    “Injured how?” Hannah pressed.

    “A rachni got through to her and—”

    “A rachni?” Selvek interrupted. “What do you mean a rachni? How in the blazes did she find a rachni?”

    Hannah placed a hand on Selvek’s shoulder, clearly worried but calmer than her husband. Her lack of reaction to hearing about a rachni marked her humanity—she didn’t seem to process the gravity of it. “Honey, let him explain,” she said more softly.

    Garrus sighed. This was classified, but these were her parents. And this was Selvek Itanus, he imagined that with his connections nothing stayed classified for long from him.

    “Binary Helix discovered a rachni egg on a derelict ship and decided to hatch it. Saren paid them to create an army of rachni for him but… it didn’t work.” Garrus began, “We… Jane… made a decision to release the rachni queen, but also at her request we needed to exterminate all her… children… that Binary Helix had attempted to use.”

    “Jane did what?!” Selvek demanded.

    Hannah sighed, again placing a hand on Selvek’s shoulder “Why did Jane release the queen?”

    “She said it wasn’t her decision to commit an entire species to extinction,” Garrus replied simply.

    At that Selvek and Hannah exchanged a knowing, approving glance, and a smile.

    Hannah squared her shoulders. “When will she wake up?”

    “Soon,” Garrus assured them. “She’s healing, and Dr. Chakwas is one of the best doctors in the Alliance from what I understand.”

    Selvek exhaled through his nose, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. “Well, I’m glad that she has you watching her back.”

    Garrus shifted slightly, feeling the weight of that statement more than he expected. “She’s… not exactly easy to keep out of trouble.”

    That finally got a small smirk out of Selvek. “Tell me about it.”

    Hannah, meanwhile, was still watching Garrus carefully, her gaze assessing, studying. “You know,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

    Garrus straightened slightly. “Garrus Vakarian, ma’am.”

    She arched a brow. “I haven’t had time to speak to Jane, you’re part of her crew?”

    Selvek chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, since Jane decided to have him reassigned from C-Sec to her ship in the middle of the night. She had the requisitions officer wake up Pallin to approve the transfer… I haven’t stopped hearing about that.”

    Hannah’s expression shifted, a small smirk playing at her lips. “Well, now I definitely need to hear that story.”

    Garrus let out a dry chuckle, mandibles twitching. “I’m sure your husband can give you the short version.”

    Selvek laughed. “She’s still too stubborn for her own good, isn’t she?”

    Garrus huffed a quiet breath. “You have no idea.”

    Hannah exhaled, some of the tension in her frame easing. “Good,” she said, her voice softer now. “Someone needs to keep an eye on her.”

    Garrus hesitated for just a second. Then, he nodded. “I will try my best, ma’am.”

    Selvek studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “We’ll check back in soon. Keep us updated.”

    “Of course,” Garrus replied.

    And just like that, the transmission cut out.

    Garrus exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

    That had gone… surprisingly well.

    And somehow, that was almost more unsettling than if it hadn’t.


    Ashley

    The rhythmic click-clack of armor plating being adjusted echoed through the otherwise quiet cargo bay. Ashley sat cross-legged on one of the lower crates, a canister of thermal paste in one hand, a heat sink in the other. She didn’t look up when she heard the telltale clank of boots approaching—harder, more measured than a human’s.

    She knew who it was before she even looked.

    Garrus. Great.

    He didn’t say anything at first, just moved to one of the workbenches where Shepard’s weapons were laid out—her pistol, assault rifle, sniper rifle, a few heat sinks that needed replacing. He started running diagnostics on the pistol, his movements methodical, practiced.

    Ashley’s eyes narrowed slightly. He’s maintaining her gear.

    Not his own. Hers.

    Ashley wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Not with him.

    Not because she had a problem with him—not really. But she was still trying to figure out where she stood after the last few days.

    She wasn’t dumb—she’d seen how the crew had started treating him. Like he was the one they went to when Shepard wasn’t around. Like he was the one they trusted. It didn’t sit right with her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

    So, she stayed quiet, focusing on her work.

    But, of course, that didn’t last.

    “You always scowl this much when you’re cleaning your rifle, or is it just when I’m around?” Garrus asked, his voice as dry as ever.

    Ashley sighed through her nose, still not looking up. “Didn’t realize my face was your concern, Vakarian.”

    “Hard not to notice when it looks like you’re ready to shoot the thing instead of fix it.”

    She shot him a look. “You here for something, or are you just here to annoy me?”

    He hummed, pretending to think about it as he pulled out a fresh thermal clip and turned it over in his hands. “Little of both.”

    Ashley rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t quite stop the twitch of a smirk.

    Damn turian.

    A beat of silence stretched between them, comfortable but charged. Finally, she exhaled, setting the rifle down beside her and tilting her head toward him.

    “Alright, Vakarian. I’ll bite.” She crossed her arms. “How’d you end up playing XO while Shepard’s out?”

    Garrus glanced at her, mandibles twitching slightly before he shrugged. “Wasn’t exactly planned. Crew needed decisions made. Pressly can handle logistics, but when it comes to the mission? He didn’t have the answers. So they came to me.”

    Ashley frowned slightly, shifting where she sat. “Huh.”

    She didn’t have a real argument for that. He had been the obvious choice. Didn’t mean she had to like it.

    “Something bothering you, Williams?”

    The way he asked it wasn’t mocking or smug—just curious. And that annoyed her more than anything.

    She huffed, leaning back against the crate. “I don’t know. Just… wasn’t expecting it, I guess.”

    Garrus let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, well. Neither was I.”

    Ashley watched him for a second, the way he methodically checked over Shepard’s equipment, the way he didn’t seem particularly bothered by the weight of leadership being put on his shoulders.

    The way Shepard trusted him.

    That part stung a little.

    She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling. “Look… I guess I should say thanks.”

    Garrus raised a brow plate. “For what?”

    “For keeping things together while Shepard was out. I may not like it, but…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I respect it.”

    Garrus studied her for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough.”

    Another beat of silence.

    Ashley hesitated, debating whether to ask the next thing on her mind. But, hell, she’d already opened the door.

    “So, uh… you and Shepard, huh?”

    Garrus’s head snapped up. “What?”

    She waved a hand vaguely. “The concert. The crew’s been talking. You guys weren’t exactly subtle.”

    “We danced at a concert,” Garrus said flatly, mandibles twitching. “The crew needs better hobbies.”

    Ashley raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s all it was.”

    Garrus went back to adjusting Shepard’s pistol, a little more forcefully than necessary. “It’s not—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “We’re friends, Williams.”

    “Right,” Ashley said, smirking. “Friends who dance together and stare at each other like the rest of the galaxy doesn’t exist.”

    His mandibles flared slightly, but he didn’t respond.

    “Relax, Vakarian. I ain’t judging.”

    She stopped—then huffed, shaking her head.

    “No. That’s not true. I am. A little.” Her brow furrowed slightly, like she was working through it in real time. “I don’t get it. But it’s not my place to judge.”

    Garrus blinked, still looking slightly off-kilter, but there was something different in his expression now. He studied her, mandibles twitching slightly like he hadn’t expected that level of honesty.

    Ashley rolled her shoulders, shifting back to her usual confidence. “Just saying… if you’re gonna get cozy with the Commander, you better be ready for the whole crew to have an opinion.”

    Garrus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Spirits help me.”

    Ashley just chuckled, shaking her head as she turned back to her work.

    Before either of them could say anything else, the cargo bay doors hissed open. Tali and Wrex stepped through, deep in conversation about—from what Ashley could catch—whether or not the Mako’s suspension could handle “one more rocket jump.”

    “It cannot,” Tali was saying firmly. “The last time you convinced Shepard to try that, I spent six hours recalibrating the stabilizers.”

    Wrex rumbled a laugh. “Worth it.”

    Garrus glanced up from Shepard’s pistol, mandibles twitching in what might have been amusement, brow plate quirking. “Oh…? You spent six hours recalibrating the stabilizers, did you?”

    Tali spotted him and immediately seemed to shrink, “Well… I helped. I still had to sit here while you did it.” she shrugged as she moved toward him .

    “Are you working on Shepard’s gear?” She moved closer, peering at the weapons laid out. “How’s everything holding up?”

    “Most of it’s fine,” Garrus said, gesturing to the pistol. “But I think this might’ve gotten hit with rachni acid. Could be why it was running hot.”

    Tali leaned in immediately, her eyes narrowing behind her visor as she examined the pistol. “Oh, that would definitely do it. Acid eats through the thermal regulators if it gets into the housing. Let me take a look—I can run a diagnostic and see if we need to replace any components.”

    “Appreciate it,” Garrus said, stepping back to give her room.

    Wrex settled onto a nearby crate, watching the exchange with mild interest. “You two are worse than a couple of mechanics arguing over a skycar.”

    “That’s because we are mechanics,” Tali shot back without looking up. “And this skycar happens to keep us alive.”

    Ashley watched the easy way they fell into shop talk, the way Wrex settled in like this was routine. The way Garrus just… fit.

    She went back to her own work, shaking her head slightly.

    Maybe he’s not so bad after all. For a turian.


    Garrus

    Garrus had to admit, this was nice.

    The mess hall had a quiet hum to it, the kind that came after a mission, when everyone was still recovering but the tension had finally eased. Shepard sat across from him, her posture relaxed, her tray half-finished but forgotten as the conversation kept moving.

    She was looking better, still seemed tired, and he could hear her heartbeat was still off. But she was going to be fine.

    Tali and Liara were both engaged in a topic that Garrus had found himself relating to more than he expected—parents. Specifically, overbearing parents.

    “She’d check in on my studies constantly,” Liara was saying, exhaling in mild exasperation. “She didn’t just want me to follow in her footsteps, she expected it.”

    Tali let out an understanding sigh. “It’s the same with my father. He was always busy with the Admiralty Board, but I was expected to be perfect. To prove I was worthy of being his daughter.”

    Garrus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds familiar. My father wasn’t a Spectre or an Admiral, but he was a highly decorated C-Sec officer who believes in only doing things by the book. Didn’t matter what I wanted. Vakarians serve. That was his line.”

    Shepard chuckled, but it was softer, knowing. “Yeah, I get that.”

    Garrus smirked. “What about you? I mean, your mother was Alliance. That’s gotta be its own kind of pressure.”

    Shepard shrugged, leaning back slightly in her chair. “She was strict about some things, but she was always busy. I spent most of my time with my dad and my grandmother.”

    At that, Liara and Tali both nodded. They understood that weight.

    But before Shepard could expand, the sound of the mess hall doors hissing open caught Garrus’s attention.

    Kaidan and Ashley stepped inside, their conversation halting when they noticed the table. Ashley tilted her head. “Didn’t realize there was a party.”

    Shepard waved them over without hesitation. “Come on, grab a drink. We’re talking about parents—embarrassing, strict, overbearing, or just too important to the galaxy to be present.”

    Ashley snorted. “I have a few of those stories.”

    Kaidan slid into the seat next to Liara, while Ashley grabbed one beside Shepard. The conversation didn’t stop, just expanded, and Garrus found himself very interested in what came next.

    Because Shepard, without thinking, casually dropped something huge.

    “I love my dad. He wasn’t really all that strict except when it came to training. But I guess I always felt guilty,” she admitted, her voice thoughtful now. “If my dad hadn’t stepped back from active duty, he probably would’ve been Primarch by now.”

    There it was. Right there. Garrus didn’t react—not outwardly. But in his head? He was already settling in, waiting for the explosion.

    Tali, to her credit, was the first to nod. “I can imagine how that would feel. If my father had ever left the Admiralty Board for me… I don’t know if I’d ever stop feeling guilty about it.”

    Liara was quiet for a moment, her voice softer when she spoke. “My mother never would have stepped away from her responsibilities. Even now… even after everything, I wonder if she ever wanted to.”

    Garrus, meanwhile, just smirked. Here it comes.

    Kaidan looked mildly suspicious but hadn’t put it together yet. His brow furrowed slightly, eyes tracking Shepard with something like mild confusion. He’s close… but not quite there.

    Ashley? Ashley had nothing.

    “Primarch?” she asked, blinking.

    And there it was.

    Shepard tilted her head slightly, clearly giving Ashley a chance to catch up. When she didn’t, Shepard finally said, “The Primarch of Palaven, Ash.”

    Kaidan froze mid-drink.

    Ashley’s face froze.

    Garrus leaned back, arms crossed, smirk widening as he watched it happen.

    Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. Then—

    “WHAT.”

    Shepard, spirits bless her, didn’t even sigh. She just leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, and gave Ashley a steady look, letting her process.

    Kaidan, staring straight ahead, swallowed his drink a little too hard. “That’s…huh…”

    Ashley sat up straighter, blinking once, twice. “Wait, wait, wait—your dad’s a turian?”

    Shepard didn’t even bother to respond right away. She just looked at her.

    Garrus let out a slow, satisfied exhale, barely holding back his amusement. “You didn’t know?”

    Tali was laughing. Liara was watching with intrigue. And Shepard? Shepard was rubbing her temples, exhausted.

    Ashley, however, was still reeling. “When were we gonna talk about this?”

    “It’s not a secret,” Shepard said flatly. “It just turns out it doesn’t come up in that many conversations.”

    Ashley sputtered. “But—but—how?!”

    Shepard, now smirking, leaned back. “Well, Ashley, when a human and a turian love each other very much—”

    “Oh my Gods, that’s not what I meant!”

    Garrus was dying.

    Ashley threw her hands up. “I mean—what was he? How did they even meet?”

    Shepard finally relented, rolling her eyes. “He was special forces. He met my mom when they were assigned to joint operations after the First Contact War.”

    “So… like a spy?” Kaidan clarified, his voice suspiciously even.

    “Basically.”

    Ashley still looked completely lost. “Okay, but then—like… umm…?”

    When she didn’t continue, Shepard finally said, “My mother and him married when I was about 8. He formally adopted me then.”

    Ashley, finally realizing how it all fit together, seemed to calm down. “Oh, right. That makes more sense.”

    There was another moment of silence as Ashley seemed to ponder whether she should ask her next question.

    “Just ask it, Ash,” Shepard said resignedly.

    “I mean… can turians and humans even… you know…”

    Shepard laughed. “I’m certainly still not old enough to ponder my parents’ sex life, but yes, Ash. They can, certainly.” She paused briefly, realizing there was another question behind it. “If your question is whether they can have children… not that anyone is aware of.”

    Joker’s voice would have cut in with perfect comedic timing if he had been in the room. Tragically, he wasn’t, but Garrus was pretty sure Joker felt this moment happen across the ship.

    Ashley’s eyes darted between Shepard, Tali, Liara, and then Garrus. “And you—you knew this?”

    Garrus let his mandibles twitch in an exaggerated smirk. “I’ve met her parents.”

    “I met her father once,” Tali added, far too smug.

    Ashley let out a breath, shaking her head. “I need another drink.”

    Then suddenly, Shepard’s eyes snapped to Garrus. “What?”

    Garrus looked at her, suddenly realizing he may have forgotten to mention something.

    “You’ve met my dad…” Shepard trailed off, clearly realizing there was something she didn’t know.

    “Actually… I may have forgotten to tell you that your parents called the other day and, well, Joker didn’t want to be the one to deliver the bad news.” Garrus paused momentarily. “Your mom was very… nice. Not sure how that call would have gone if I had to tell Selvek you got injured by a rachni and your mom hadn’t been there…”

    Shepard’s eyes widened even more. “You told my parents I was injured… by a rachni?”

    “Didn’t exactly have a choice, Jane.”

    Everyone else at the table was suddenly watching the exchange with quiet interest.

    Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m never going to hear the end of this. Next you’re going to tell me you told them I released the queen.”

    Garrus didn’t respond. He just stared at her.

    “Garrus…?”

    He still didn’t respond, instead choosing to drink his brandy in one go and refill his glass.

    “Well,” Shepard smirked, leaning back in her chair, “I guess you saved me the trouble.”

    Garrus chuckled.

    After a moment, Ashley opted to guide the conversation back to the topic of parents. She talked about her own family, her sisters, the pressure of being the oldest, the weight of responsibility.

    And that was where the conversation took a turn.

    Garrus still found himself watching Shepard more than listening to Ashley.

    She had become his best friend over the short time they had known. And he had seen how often she carried things that weren’t her fault or not within her power to prevent or control.

    She carried guilt for her father stepping back from his career—the same way Garrus carried the weight of disappointing his own father by never being the C-Sec officer he hoped he’d become. The difference being that she carried guilt for something that wasn’t within her control. Selvek’s choice had been his and his alone. But she carried it anyway.

    He understood that weight. The expectations. The regrets. The feeling that you’d always be paying back a debt you never asked for.

    Maybe that was why they worked so well together. Why she got him in a way no one else ever had.

    And that? That was dangerous.

    But damned if he wasn’t going to let it happen anyway.

  • Chapter 16

    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.

  • Chapter 2

    Nihlus

    Over the next few days, Nihlus spent more time than he cared to admit observing Shepard. Not overtly, of course—he was a Spectre, after all. Observation came naturally to him. Professional curiosity. That’s what he told himself.

    Shepard’s interactions with her crew were as varied as the personalities aboard the Normandy. She was confident and composed, her sharp wit keeping conversations engaging while still maintaining the authority expected of her rank. But there was one crewmember whose behavior stood out: Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko.

    Nihlus noticed the subtle way Kaidan’s posture shifted when Shepard was nearby, how his tone softened when he spoke to her, the way his gaze lingered a moment too long. It was obvious the biotic soldier was infatuated. Humans often wore their emotions openly, and Kaidan was no exception. What caught Nihlus’s attention, however, was Shepard’s response—or lack thereof.

    It wasn’t that Shepard dismissed Kaidan outright. She was polite, friendly even, but there was distance in her demeanor. Subtle, but unmistakable. Her smiles didn’t linger, her body language remained neutral, and she rarely initiated prolonged conversations. For someone so perceptive and commanding, it was clear Shepard was aware of Kaidan’s interest. Yet she chose not to engage with it.

    The opportunity to observe further came when Kaidan approached Shepard in the cargo bay one evening. Nihlus had been working at a terminal near the back of the bay, well out of earshot—or so the crew believed. He watched as Kaidan hesitated before speaking, his stance betraying his nerves.

    “Commander,” Kaidan began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

    Shepard raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?”

    “Hand-to-hand combat,” Kaidan said. “I hear you’re one of the best, and I could use some pointers. Thought maybe we could spar?”

    Shepard regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. Let’s set up.”

    Kaidan’s face brightened slightly as they moved to the mats. Nihlus shifted his position subtly, pretending to focus on his omni-tool while ensuring he had a clear view.

    At first, the match seemed straightforward. Shepard moved with precision, keeping her stance light and fluid, her strikes measured and deliberate. Kaidan was slower, his movements more predictable. She pulled her punches, adjusting her technique to avoid overwhelming him. That much was expected—he was no match for her skill.

    But something else caught Nihlus’s attention.

    The distance.

    Shepard maintained unusual space between herself and Kaidan. Even when she advanced, her movements were calculated to avoid prolonged close contact. When she threw him to the mat—which she did multiple times—she never followed through to pin him. Instead, she stepped back and told him to submit.

    The contrast to their sparring match was stark. She’d thrown herself at him with intensity, closing distance without hesitation, pinning him with that triumphant grin. With Kaidan? All restraint. All distance.

    Nihlus tilted his head slightly, mandibles twitching. Was this difference due to human customs or Alliance regulations? Did Shepard’s reluctance to fully engage with Kaidan stem from professional boundaries?

    Or did she simply not trust Kaidan the way she’d trusted him?

    That thought stopped him cold.

    She’d extended trust to him—a turian Spectre she’d barely known—but not to her own crew. Why?

    Kaidan stood, brushing himself off after another throw. He smiled at Shepard, clearly trying to mask his frustration. “Thanks, Commander. I’ve got a lot to work on.”

    Shepard returned the smile, but it was brief, polite. “You’re improving. Keep at it, Lieutenant.”

    As Kaidan walked away, Nihlus replayed the memory of their match. The way her gaze had locked onto his, sharp and unflinching. The faint smirk when she’d pinned him, her voice confident as she’d demanded his submission. With him, she’d been unguarded. Playful, even.

    With Kaidan, she was all business.

    He exhaled slowly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the workbench. Was it professionalism keeping Kaidan at arm’s length? Or was there something deeper?

    And why had she been so at ease with him?

    The thought unsettled him—not because she kept distance from Kaidan, but because she hadn’t with him.

    She’d trusted him. Immediately. Instinctively.

    And he wanted to understand why.

    More than that—he needed to.

    The realization was uncomfortable. Understanding Shepard might mean unraveling something in himself he wasn’t ready to face.

    But he couldn’t look away.


    Nihlus

    The Normandy was quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of the crew reduced to only the faint murmur of engineers making their late-night rounds. Most of the ship had retired for the night, but Nihlus wasn’t ready to. His thoughts were restless, his questions unresolved. He found himself wandering toward the engineering section, drawn by an idle curiosity—one that quickly sharpened into interest when he saw Shepard standing alone, watching the drive core.

    The core pulsed with a steady, rhythmic glow, casting soft blue light across her face. She stood with her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the massive engine that powered the Normandy. The light illuminated her features in sharp contrast, but her expression was unreadable. She looked contemplative, maybe even a little awed.

    Nihlus hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward.

    “Shepard.”

    She turned her head slightly but didn’t look startled. If anything, she seemed to have expected him. “Nihlus.”

    “Am I interrupting?”

    She shook her head, her lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t far from one. “No. Just thinking.”

    Nihlus stepped up beside her, glancing at the drive core. The massive, intricate design was undeniably impressive, even to someone like him who had seen his fair share of advanced technology.

    “It’s a remarkable piece of engineering,” he admitted.

    Shepard nodded. “A collaboration between turians and humans. The Normandy’s drive core is based on turian stealth technology, adapted and improved by human engineers.” Her gaze lingered on the pulsing light, a contemplative edge to her voice. “It’s strange when you think about it. Twenty-six years ago, humans and turians were at war. Now we’re building ships together. The best of both worlds.”

    Nihlus tilted his head, intrigued. “You sound like you actually admire it.”

    “I do,” she admitted. “It’s efficient, powerful, and elegant. The kind of thing that wouldn’t exist if people—if species—hadn’t been willing to work together.”

    He watched her carefully. There was something about the way she said it, something unguarded in her voice. It wasn’t just about the ship. She believed in the bigger picture, in what cooperation could achieve. Maybe that was why she had defended him so openly before.

    She glanced at him. “You probably know all about it, though.”

    “I know the reports,” Nihlus said. “I know the project was greenlit as part of the Alliance’s integration into Citadel military structure. Funded by the Council. A major technological breakthrough for human engineering.” He paused, mandibles twitching slightly. “But I doubt I know it as well as you do.”

    Shepard smirked slightly. “You’re right. I make it a point to know my ship.”

    Nihlus considered his next words carefully. The conversation had flowed naturally to this point, but he had come here for answers, and this was as good an opening as any. “You said something interesting,” he began. “That this ship is the best of both worlds.”

    She turned her head fully toward him now, brows lifting slightly. “Yeah?”

    He met her gaze. “That phrase carries more meaning coming from you.”

    Something flickered in her expression, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t ask what he meant, didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Instead, she exhaled lightly and looked back at the drive core. “You figured it out, then.”

    Nihlus nodded. “I did.”

    For a moment, she was quiet, then she smiled faintly. “So… tell me. What does a Spectre find when he looks up my father? I’m guessing the records are thorough.”

    “They were,” he admitted. “Blackwatch operative. Decorated. On track for Primarch…” He paused, watching as Shepard flinched—almost imperceptibly, but he caught it. He opted not to press. “But they don’t explain everything.”

    Shepard gave a dry smile. “They never do.”

    “They don’t explain how you carry yourself the way you do. How you understand turians in ways no other human I’ve met does.” His voice lowered slightly. “They don’t explain why you looked at me the way you did after our match.”

    Her lips curved slowly. “How I looked at you?” She tilted her head, eyes glinting with something between amusement and challenge. “How exactly did I look at you, Spectre?”

    For the first time in a long while, Nihlus felt himself at a loss for words.

    Shepard watched him for a moment, clearly enjoying his discomfort, then smirked. “You thinking too hard about it, Spectre?”

    He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

    The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like an understanding had been reached, an unspoken thread woven between them.

    Finally, Shepard pushed off the railing and stretched. “Well, if that’s everything, I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

    Nihlus nodded. “Goodnight, Shepard.”

    She gave him a last look, something softer than her usual confident smirk. Then she left.

    Nihlus stood alone, watching the drive core’s steady pulse.

    Selvek gave up Primarch for a human.

    The thought had haunted him for days. But standing here now, he understood something he hadn’t before.

    It wasn’t about understanding the choice.

    It was about whether he could make it himself.


    Joker

    Kaidan dropped into the co-pilot’s seat with all the enthusiasm of someone reporting for latrine duty.

    “Morning, LT,” Joker said, not looking up from his console. “You’re early. Or late. Hard to tell with that face.”

    “Morning,” Kaidan muttered.

    Joker glanced over. “Wow. You look like someone told you shore leave got canceled. Or—wait, no. You look like someone who got dropped on their ass six times in the cargo bay.”

    Kaidan’s jaw tightened. “It was sparring.”

    “Right, right. Sparring.” Joker grinned. “That’s what we’re calling it when the Commander puts you on the mat like a tutorial boss?”

    “She’s good,” Kaidan said tersely. “I knew that going in.”

    “Good?” Joker scoffed. “LT, she’s scary. There’s a difference.” He tapped a few keys, pulling up a diagnostic screen. “But hey, at least you tried. That’s very brave of you.”

    Kaidan didn’t respond, just stared out at the stars streaking past.

    Joker let the silence hang for a beat, then added casually, “Personally, I think I’ll stick to just sitting next to her.”

    Kaidan’s head turned. “Sitting?”

    “Yeah. She slips in when no one’s around. Doesn’t say much. Just sits, stares out the viewport like she’s waiting for the galaxy to blink first.” Joker shrugged. “Says she’s just making sure I’m not flying us into a sun. I think she just likes the lighting. Makes her look all mysterious and glowy. Very sci-fi noir.”

    Kaidan frowned. “She sits up here with you?”

    “Well, not with me. More like… near me. In the general vicinity of me and my sparkling personality.” Joker shot him a look. “Why, you keeping tabs?”

    “No, I just—” Kaidan stopped himself. “Never mind.”

    “Uh-huh.” Joker turned back to his console. “You’re not the only one trying to crack the Shepard code, by the way. She’s got layers. Like one of those fancy desserts with a French name and a war crime’s worth of calories.”

    Kaidan shifted in his seat. “Does she ever… talk about anyone? On the crew?”

    Joker raised an eyebrow. “You mean does she talk about you?”

    Kaidan’s silence was answer enough.

    “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Joker leaned back in his seat. “Look, whatever she feels? If it’s there, it’s locked up tighter than a Spectre’s personnel file. I mean, hell, she might have a whole poetry phase and we’d never know. Probably writes in cursive.”

    He hesitated, then added with a shrug, “Plus, let’s be real—someone like that? Already has the perfect boyfriend stashed on some forgotten colony or classified comm channel. The kind of guy who just walked off a film set, writes poetry, and never misplaces his socks.”

    Kaidan’s expression darkened. “You think so?”

    “I know so. Just look at her out of uniform sometime—tank top, no rank insignia, hair down like it’s trying to start a mutiny. You think either of us stands a chance?” He snorted. “I’m the guy with the bone structure of a breadstick.”

    Kaidan frowned slightly. “Didn’t know you were in the running.”

    “I’m not,” Joker said, too quickly. “I’m just not blind.”

    Before Kaidan could reply, Anderson’s voice interrupted from behind.

    “Moreau. Alenko. Status report.”

    Both men straightened immediately. Joker’s hands flew across the console with exaggerated focus.

    “All systems green, Captain,” Joker called. “ETA 15 hours.”

    “Notify the Commander and Nihlus when we’re an hour out.”

    “Aye, aye, Captain.”

    They listened to the fading echo of footsteps as Anderson moved on.

    Kaidan said nothing, just stared out at the viewport.

    Joker turned back to his diagnostics, but his mind was elsewhere.

    She does come up here. Late nights, tank top, bare shoulders, quiet thoughts.

    And she talks to me.

    He wasn’t dumb enough to think it meant anything.

    But he liked it all the same.


    Nihlus

    The Normandy’s comm room was dimly lit, the holoprojector casting a faint glow over the central console as mission data flickered across the display. Shepard stood with her arms crossed, her sharp green eyes scanning the information on the screen. She had been reviewing the brief on her own when Nihlus entered, his presence as smooth and composed as always.

    “Commander,” he greeted.

    She glanced over her shoulder. “Spectre. Something on your mind?”

    He approached the console, hands clasped behind his back as he scanned the projection. “I wanted to discuss the mission. Hear how you’d approach it.”

    She raised an eyebrow. “Figured you were going to tell me the plan, Spectre.”

    His mandibles twitched faintly. “Humor me.”

    She eyed him for a second, then gave a dry chuckle. “Alright. Let’s take a look.”

    He keyed up the tactical layout—station blueprints, last known comms, and a flicker of intel reports. A remote research outpost near the edge of the Attican Traverse, recently gone dark. Initial theories ranged from mechanical failure to sabotage. The station housed sensitive data on next-gen biotic amplifiers—valuable enough that several parties might want it to stay missing.

    Shepard studied the map, quiet for a beat. Then: “We don’t go in blind. Long-range passive scans first—heat signatures, EM readings, see if the place is even powered. If it looks clean, standard docking. If not—controlled breach.”

    Nihlus nodded slightly, intrigued. “And if they’re waiting for us either way?”

    Shepard’s lips curved slightly. “Then at least we know what we’re walking into. Better than announcing ourselves and hoping for the best.”

    “A measured approach,” Nihlus said. “Some would argue for overwhelming force—breach fast, secure the facility before anyone can react.”

    “And if it’s just a generator failure?” Shepard countered calmly. “We blow the airlock, terrify the researchers, damage equipment we’re supposed to recover. Too messy.”

    She folded her arms again. “Scans give us intel. Intel gives us options.”

    “And if the intel tells you it’s hostile?”

    “Then we go in hard.” Her gaze flicked to him, sharp and assessing. “But at least we’re not surprised. That how you’d handle it?”

    Nihlus considered her words before answering. “It’s practical. Minimizes risk to your team and the objective. But it requires patience—something not all commanders have.”

    Shepard smirked slightly. “You think I’m too cautious?”

    “I think you’re strategic,” Nihlus countered. “There’s a difference.”

    Her expression sobered slightly, but she didn’t argue the point. Instead, she exhaled quietly, turning her focus back to the map. “There’s always risk. But we mitigate it where we can. It’s about balance.”

    Nihlus watched her carefully. There was a certainty in the way she spoke, in the way she analyzed situations without hesitation. She wasn’t reckless, nor was she overly cautious. Strategic, adaptable, decisive.

    “You think several moves ahead,” he noted. “And not just how to win—how to avoid unnecessary losses.”

    Shepard gave a small shrug. “Every life has weight. Crew, civilians, yours, mine. If I can keep them standing, I will.”

    He had read her file. He’d seen flashes of it in the field. But this—watching her dismantle the problem with such even-handed precision—this was different.

    “You’d make a good Spectre,” he said before thinking better of it.

    Her head turned, eyes narrowing just slightly. “That what this is? An evaluation?”

    Nihlus allowed a flicker of a smirk. “Just an observation.”

    “Uh-huh.” She studied him for a moment, those green eyes too perceptive. Then she turned back to the display. “We’ll know more when we’re in range. Let’s see how the scans come back.”

    She moved toward the exit, pausing just briefly at the doorway. “You coming, Spectre?”

    Nihlus watched her go, his mandibles twitching thoughtfully. He hadn’t meant to say that. Not yet.

    He followed after her, realizing just how easily she could get information from him without trying. He’d have to be more careful in the future.


    Nihlus

    The research station was a graveyard. Shepard, Nihlus, and Kaidan advanced through corridors littered with burned-out terminals and scattered debris, weapons raised. Scorch marks from heavy gunfire scarred the walls. Whatever had happened here, it hadn’t been an accident.

    “Data cores are fried,” Kaidan muttered, scanning the remains of an access panel. “Whoever hit this place knew what they were doing.”

    “Mercs or terrorists,” Shepard replied, her voice low.

    The doors at the far end of the hall hissed open. A squad of armored figures in black, white, and yellow tactical gear poured through.

    “Don’t recognize the insignia,” Nihlus growled, narrowing his eyes. “Mercenaries, but not Eclipse or Blue Suns.”

    Gunfire erupted. Shepard dove behind a lab table, rifle barking controlled bursts. Kaidan’s biotics flared blue, yanking a mercenary off his feet and slamming him into the ceiling. Nihlus ducked behind cover, each shot he took precise, deadly.

    Amid the chaos, he caught sight of their objective—a secured console at the far end of the room. Their only hope of retrieving the research data before the mercenaries wiped it clean. The problem? At least a dozen hostiles standing between them and their goal.

    “We need to get to that console,” he called out, ducking as a barrage of gunfire slammed into the crates beside him.

    Shepard’s eyes swept the room—hostiles, cover points, firing lanes. “I’ll cover you. You make the run.”

    He turned his head sharply, mandibles twitching. “That’s a lot of open ground.”

    She pulled her sniper rifle from her back and locked eyes with him. “Trust me.”

    He hesitated. Barely knew her. Had no reason to believe she could pull this off.

    And yet… he did.

    He exhaled sharply and gave a firm nod. “Make it count, Commander.”

    The moment he broke cover, Shepard fired.

    The first mercenary dropped before he could raise his weapon. The second ducked behind cover—she’d already moved her aim. Third target, center mass. Fourth, headshot through a gap in his armor.

    Nihlus sprinted through the killzone. Not a single round came close.

    He reached the console untouched, sliding into cover before accessing the terminal. Fingers flying over the controls, transferring critical research data while Shepard continued to thin their numbers, ensuring no enemy got close enough to disrupt him.

    Kaidan moved up, his biotics flaring as he launched a soldier across the room into a wall. “We’ve got incoming reinforcements!”

    “Almost done,” Nihlus responded. “Hold them off a little longer!”

    Shepard reloaded swiftly, shifting position to take out a pair of approaching enemies before they could flank him. “You good back there?”

    “Transfer complete!” He disengaged from the console. “We move—now!”

    Shepard dropped two final enemies as they retreated toward the exit, Kaidan throwing up a biotic barrier to shield their escape. By the time they reached the rendezvous point, the research station was in full lockdown, and any remaining forces were left scrambling.

    As they boarded the Normandy, Nihlus turned to Shepard. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at her—really looked at her. Then: “You meant it when you said I could trust you.”

    Shepard smirked, slinging her sniper rifle back over her shoulder. “Of course. I don’t say it if I don’t believe it.”

    He chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

    With her, he wasn’t sure how not to trust.

    And that should have worried him more than it did.

  • Chapter 1 – A Spectre’s Curiosity

    Shepard

    She opened her eyes, turning to look at the clock again. 0100. Barely ten minutes since the last time she checked. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts spinning too fast to let her rest.

    Something about this mission was off. She didn’t know what yet, but the crew felt it too—the tension, the secrecy. This was no shakedown run.

    Sighing, Shepard sat up, the faint light from the corridor illuminating the room enough to grab her workout clothes. Black pants, a white tank top, and her N7 hoodie—simple, functional, familiar. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least burn off some energy. She needed clarity, and the training area she’d set up in the cargo bay was as good a place as any to find it.

    The elevator hummed softly as it descended, the slow, deliberate pace giving her time to stew. Anderson was hiding something. That much was clear. It gnawed at her—not knowing, being kept in the dark. If she was going to be effective as XO, she needed to know what was coming. Being blindsided wasn’t an option.

    Beneath that frustration, though, was something more subtle. The Spectre. Nihlus. She’d met turians before, sparred with them—hell, she was raised by one. But a Spectre? That was something else entirely. He wasn’t just skilled; he was calculating, and that combination made her uneasy.

    When the doors slid open, the dimly lit cargo bay greeted her with its usual stillness. The hum of the Normandy’s engines vibrated through the floor, a constant reminder of their journey through the void. The training area wasn’t much—a few mats, a couple of punching bags, and enough space to move. It was her idea, something she’d convinced Anderson to approve before launch. She’d framed it as crew morale, but really? It was for her.

    She walked to the locker near the wall, pulled out bandages, and began wrapping her hands. The rhythmic motion steadied her thoughts. A sparring partner would have been ideal, but beating up her crew wasn’t exactly professional—at least not the human ones. The punching bag would have to do.

    As she began her routine, the tension in her shoulders started to ease. Each punch landed with precision and force, a satisfying rhythm forming as she worked. But her mind kept drifting back to Nihlus. It wasn’t just his reputation—Spectres were legendary for a reason—but the way he watched everything. Patient. Precise. Like he was already three steps ahead. He probably knew more about her than she was comfortable with, but she wasn’t about to let him see that. Confidence was the best defense. If she seemed unshaken, maybe he’d underestimate her.


    Joker

    Joker sat in the pilot’s seat, running through the night-cycle diagnostics with the kind of attention that came from equal parts boredom and professional pride. The Normandy hummed around him—quiet, steady, most of the crew already asleep. He liked it this way. Just him, his baby, and the void. No one asking questions. No one hovering.

    Footsteps echoed from the corridor behind him.

    Commander Shepard appeared, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat without a word. Joker’s brain momentarily short-circuited.

    He’d seen her plenty since they left dock—always in uniform, always buttoned-up and professional. But this? Tank top, workout pants, the hood of her N7 sweatshirt hanging loose around her neck, and her hair—actually down—falling in soft waves past her shoulders instead of pulled back into her usual bun.

    Oh.

    She looked… different. Less Commander, more person. No—more like an Alliance recruitment poster. She’d always been attractive, sure, but like this? Striking. Athletic. That auburn hair caught the low cockpit light just enough to make it unfair.

    And then she turned to look at him.

    Those eyes—vivid green, sharp enough to cut through bulkheads, but still warm. Curious. The kind of eyes that saw you.

    Joker forgot how to words.

    “Evening, Joker,” she said, amusement threading through her voice.

    “I—uh—” He cleared his throat. Get it together, Moreau. “Evening, Commander. Or… morning, technically. You know it’s oh-dark-hundred, right?”

    She smirked. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d check in. How’s she handling?”

    Right. The ship. His ship. The thing he was supposed to be thinking about.

    “Like a dream,” he said, gesturing at the console—maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Stealth systems are smooth, no drift on the thrusters, and the new drive core’s purring like—”

    He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked her over again. His mouth moved before his brain caught up.
    “Okay, I gotta ask. What did you do with Commander Shepard?”

    Oh no.

    The moment the words left his mouth, Joker braced for impact. Anderson would’ve given him that look—the one that meant he was two seconds from latrine duty until retirement.

    But Shepard?

    She laughed.

    Actually laughed—a short, surprised sound that lit up her entire face.

    “Figured I’d burn off some energy in the cargo bay. Not as comfortable doing that in uniform,” she said, grinning. “Thought I’d stop by first. Make sure you weren’t flying us into a star.”

    Joker let out a breath, pressing a hand to his chest in mock relief. “Please. I could fly this thing blindfolded. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

    He hesitated, but she was still smiling. That gave him just enough nerve.
    “Hey, Commander? Real talk—why do we have a Council Spectre on board?”

    She raised a brow, but the smile didn’t fade.
    “Real talk? Then I think you can drop the Commander for a minute.”
    She leaned back, folding her arms. “Does he make you nervous, Joker?”

    “Spectres are trouble, Shepard” he said, shrugging. “The crew’s on edge. A Spectre on an Alliance ship? That screams ‘something’s going down,’ and nobody likes being kept in the dark.” He paused. “Including me, if I’m being honest.”

    Something shifted in her expression—understanding, maybe even a flicker of frustration.
    “You’re not the only one who feels that way.”

    Joker blinked. “Wait, seriously? You don’t know what’s going on either?”

    “Anderson’s playing this one close to the chest,” she admitted. “But we’ll find out soon enough. We always do.”

    The way she said it—calm, confident, but not dismissive—caught him off guard. She got it. Anderson was a good captain, no question, but he treated Joker like a systems risk with a mouth. Shepard, though?

    She talked to him like a person.

    “Well,” Joker said, leaning back in his chair, “if we’re flying into some top-secret nightmare scenario, at least you’ve got the best pilot in the fleet at the helm.”

    She smirked. “And the most humble, apparently.”

    “Hey, it’s not arrogance if it’s true.”

    She shook her head, still smiling, and stood. Her hand landed briefly on his shoulder—just a touch. Grounding. Friendly. And then she turned toward the stairs.

    Joker watched her disappear down the corridor, his hand drifting absently to where hers had been.

    Huh.

    Commander Shepard was… not what he expected. Smart, sure. Tough, obviously. But funny? Easy to talk to? That was new.

    And yeah, okay, she was beautiful. Really beautiful.

    But he was also the guy with brittle bone disease flying the most advanced ship in the fleet. She was his CO. And someone like that? Definitely not single. Probably had some perfect boyfriend stashed somewhere anyway.

    He shook his head and turned back to the console.

    Not happening, Moreau. Focus on the job.

    Still.

    It was nice to have a CO he could actually joke with.


    Nihlus

    From his position at the workbench, Nihlus watched her in silence. He’d noticed her the moment she stepped off the elevator, but she hadn’t seen him. Remaining unnoticed was a skill he’d perfected over the years as a Spectre, and it served him well now.

    It wasn’t often that someone truly piqued his curiosity, but Shepard had managed to do just that.

    Her movements were sharp and deliberate, better than most humans he’d observed. Each strike to the punching bag carried precision and power, her form a testament to years of training. He’d read her file—Akuze survivor, N7 operative, commendations for valor and leadership. Surviving Akuze alone was a feat few could claim. But files could only say so much. Watching her now, it was clear she wasn’t just surviving—she was thriving.

    She hadn’t noticed him yet, her focus entirely on the bag. He debated whether to make his presence known or keep observing. She was clearly lost in thought, her strikes intensifying with each passing moment. Whatever was on her mind drove her forward, pushing her to work harder. He respected that—that need to prepare, to sharpen oneself against whatever challenges lay ahead.

    Finally, he decided to step forward.

    “Commander,” he said, his voice breaking the quiet.

    She turned sharply, her body tensing briefly before she relaxed. “Nihlus,” she said evenly, reaching for her water bottle. “I didn’t realize anyone was down here.”

    He inclined his head slightly. “I didn’t mean to intrude. But since you’re here…” He glanced at the mats, his mandibles flaring slightly. “Care to spar? It’s been a while since I’ve had a good match.”

    Shepard’s expression didn’t change, but he caught the glint in her eye. “All right, Spectre,” she said with a faint smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

    The hum of the cargo bay’s lights buzzed faintly in the stillness. Nihlus adjusted his stance on the mat, settling into the familiar rhythm of combat assessment. Shepard mirrored him, her posture relaxed but ready.

    He’d sparred with humans before. They often relied on brute force or clumsy techniques, leaving openings he could easily exploit.

    Shepard was different.

    Her strikes were relentless, precise, calculated. Every blow aimed at weak points—the gaps in his plating, the vulnerable spots no ordinary human should know about. She moved with a fluidity that caught him off guard, her footwork clean and efficient.

    Impressive.

    He stepped back to regroup, recalculating. He’d underestimated her—a mistake he rarely made and one he wouldn’t repeat.

    How did she know so much about turian physiology and combat techniques? Her file mentioned no joint exercises with turian squads, no apparent connections to suggest this level of familiarity. She moved as if she’d been trained by one of his own people.

    Nihlus lunged forward, throwing a calculated jab at her midsection. Shepard twisted at the last second, his strike grazing past her side. She countered with a sweeping kick aimed at his legs. He barely managed to block, the force reverberating up his arm.

    “You’re good,” he said, his subharmonics carrying genuine admiration.

    Shepard’s lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes remained sharp, focused. “I aim to impress.”

    Her movements grew faster, more aggressive. She pressed him, testing his limits, forcing him to adapt. It reminded him of his military training days—facing opponents who could actually challenge him. The thrill of it sharpened his focus.

    But she was hiding something. There was no other explanation for her skill.

    He saw his opening and took it, using his superior reach to drive her back toward the edge of the mat. She evaded skillfully, but he was closing the distance. One more push—

    He swept her legs out from under her.

    She hit the mat hard, and he was on her in an instant, pinning her arms above her head, his weight keeping her immobilized.

    “Submit,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

    Shepard didn’t flinch. Her eyes gleamed with something that sent a spark of warning through him. “Not yet.”

    Before he could react, she shifted her hips and twisted, using his forward momentum against him. Her freed hand struck at the vulnerable joint in his shoulder, forcing him to loosen his grip. In the same motion, she hooked her leg around his and pulled.

    The world inverted.

    Now it was Nihlus pinned beneath her, one of her knees pressed just below his collar plating, the other positioned near his neck. She had his wrist trapped, applying just enough pressure to keep him immobilized without causing harm.

    “Your move, Spectre,” she said, her voice light but edged with triumph. “Or should I say… submit?”

    He stared up at her, mandibles flaring slightly in reluctant respect. He had no way out of this.

    “I submit,” he said evenly.

    She released him immediately, stepping back and extending a hand. He took it, pulling himself to his feet. As he dusted himself off, she grabbed a towel and slung it over her shoulder, satisfaction playing across her features.

    “Very impressive, Commander,” he said. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that.”

    Shepard smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I’ll be sure to pass on the compliments to my father.”

    Nihlus tilted his head. “Your father?”

    She didn’t elaborate. Instead, she threw him a casual wave as she headed for the elevator. “Goodnight, Spectre. Let’s do this again sometime.”

    As the elevator doors closed, Nihlus remained where he stood, staring at the empty space.

    Shepard was a puzzle, and he wasn’t the type to leave puzzles unsolved.


    Nihlus

    Nihlus stood outside Captain Anderson’s quarters, his mind still spinning from the events of the previous night. Shepard—Commander Shepard—was unlike any human he had ever encountered. Her skill, her precision, her knowledge of turian combat techniques… It didn’t add up. No Alliance training could explain it, and her service record had no mention of specialized turian combat instruction. There was something missing.

    He tapped the door panel, and Anderson’s voice called, “Come in.”

    The door slid open, and Nihlus stepped inside, inclining his head in a polite gesture. Anderson looked up from a datapad, his expression neutral but alert.

    “Spectre,” Anderson greeted. “What can I do for you?”

    Nihlus wasted no time. “I have a question about Commander Shepard.”

    Anderson’s eyebrow raised slightly, but he gestured for Nihlus to continue.

    “Last night, we sparred in the cargo bay,” Nihlus said, his tone measured. “Her technique was exceptional. More than that—she fights like she was trained by a turian. She knows vulnerabilities, weak points in plating, combat styles that no Alliance program teaches.” He paused, mandibles twitching. “She implied her father taught her. But there’s no mention of him in her service record.”

    Anderson leaned back in his chair, and Nihlus caught the faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Not mockery—something closer to understanding.

    “You sparred with her?” Anderson asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

    “I did.”

    “And?”

    Nihlus hesitated for only a moment. “She won.”

    Anderson’s smile widened into a grin. “I’m sure Selvek will be pleased to hear his daughter just beat a Spectre in hand-to-hand.”

    Nihlus went still. “Selvek?”

    It wasn’t a unique name, but it wasn’t common either. And only one turian came to mind immediately.

    “Selvek Itanus,” Anderson confirmed. “He married Hannah Shepard about twenty years ago and adopted Jane shortly after.”

    For a moment, Nihlus wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Selvek Itanus,” he repeated slowly. “The Selvek Itanus?”

    “Only one I know,” Anderson said.

    Nihlus felt his mandibles flare involuntarily. Selvek Itanus wasn’t just a name—he was a legend. Blackwatch operative. Tactical genius. One of the most decorated officers in recent turian military history. The kind of soldier whose name was spoken with reverence even among Spectres.

    “That’s… impossible,” Nihlus said, though even as the words left him, he knew they weren’t true. It explained everything—Shepard’s combat style, her knowledge, her confidence. She hadn’t just been trained by a turian. She’d been trained by one of the best.

    Anderson chuckled. “Not impossible. Just unexpected. He took partial retirement from active duty at the time so he could raise her.”

    “But he was on track for—” Nihlus stopped himself, trying to process. “He could have been Primarch. His career was…” He trailed off, mandibles twitching. “Why would he—?”

    “Give it all up for a human wife and a kid who wasn’t even his?” Anderson finished, his tone quieter now. He shook his head. “I’m the wrong person to ask.”

    Nihlus stared at Anderson, his mind racing. He’d read about Selvek Itanus in tactical briefings, studied some of his operations during his own training. The man was brilliant, disciplined, utterly committed to the Hierarchy. To walk away from all of that…

    “Does she know?” Nihlus asked. “What he gave up?”

    Anderson’s expression grew more serious. “She does. Doesn’t say it, but I’m sure it’s the reason she’s pushed to become who she is.”

    Nihlus nodded slowly, his thoughts already shifting to what this meant. Shepard wasn’t just skilled—she was the product of one of the finest military minds in turian history. And Selvek had chosen to raise her, to train her, to give her everything he’d built his life on.

    Why?

    “Thank you, Captain,” Nihlus said finally, turning toward the door.

    “Nihlus,” Anderson said, nodding in acknowledgment.

    As Nihlus walked back toward his quarters, one thought kept circling through his mind.

    Selvek Itanus had chosen love over duty. Over honor. Over everything the Hierarchy valued.

    He walked away from Primarch. For a human family.

    Nihlus couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t fathom making that choice—abandoning everything he’d worked for, everything he believed in. And yet Selvek had done exactly that.

    And now, Nihlus was beginning to understand why Shepard fought the way she did—not just with skill, but with purpose. She’d been raised by someone who had made an impossible choice and never looked back.

    But understanding her didn’t mean understanding him.


    Nihlus

    The cargo bay was quiet, the hum of the Normandy’s engines a steady backdrop as Nihlus stood near the workbench, his omni-tool casting a faint glow across his face. To anyone passing by, he appeared focused on routine maintenance checks. In reality, he was deep in classified turian military records.

    Selvek’s service history was everything he thought he knew. Blackwatch operative. Dozens of high-risk operations. Commendations from the Primarch himself. Strategic innovations still taught in turian military academies. The man had been on a clear trajectory to the top of the Hierarchy. Primarch wasn’t just possible—it was expected.

    Nihlus scrolled further, his mandibles twitching as he found the relevant files. Joint operations with Alliance forces, post-First Contact War. Hannah Shepard’s name appeared repeatedly, paired with Selvek’s on mission after mission. High-priority targets. Human extremists threatening the fragile peace. The reports praised their partnership—efficient, effective, unprecedented cooperation between species.

    Then came the retirement request.

    “…citing a desire to spend more time with family.”

    Nihlus stared at the words. Family. Selvek had given it all up. Not for illness, not for injury, not even for political maneuvering. For family. A human wife. An adopted daughter who wasn’t even his by blood.

    Why?

    The question gnawed at him. Turians didn’t abandon duty for personal reasons. They didn’t walk away from Primarch for—

    Footsteps.

    Nihlus glanced up as Shepard entered the cargo bay, a young marine, Corporal Chase if he remembered correctly, trailing behind her. He quickly minimized the files, switching to a mundane diagnostic screen, though his attention remained divided.

    Shepard walked to the nearby locker, pulling out her pistol, then walked over to the workbench. Her attention seemed focused on the weapon as she answered Chase’s questions about their next mission with her usual measured responses—enough to reassure without revealing anything concrete.

    Chase seemed unsatisfied. His eyes flicked toward Nihlus, lingering a moment too long before his voice dropped. He clearly thought lowering his tone would keep the conversation private.

    It didn’t.

    “Commander, don’t you think it’s a little… odd? Having him here?”

    Shepard’s gaze subtly followed Chase’s, however she seemed less that amused.

    Chase’s voice carried just enough edge to make his discomfort clear. “I mean, he’s a turian. This is an Alliance ship, an Alliance mission. What are we doing letting aliens call the shots?”

    Nihlus’s mandibles twitched slightly, but he remained outwardly still, his focus apparently on the omni-tool. His sharp hearing caught every word.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shepard glance in his direction. Not a full look—just a flicker. A faint smirk tugged at the edge of her lips.

    She knows I can hear.

    Shepard straightened, her stance shifting subtly but unmistakably. Her voice remained calm, but an edge crept in. “His name is Nihlus Kryik. He’s a Spectre, and he’s a damn good soldier. You’d do well to show him the respect due a superior officer.”

    Chase blinked, clearly taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. “I just don’t see why we need them,” he said, defensive now.

    “And…by them, we mean…aliens?” she asked with an obvious frustration.

    “This is our mission. Humanity’s mission. Why should we let them interfere?” Chase continued.

    Shepard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Because humanity isn’t alone anymore, Chase. We’re part of a galactic civilization. The Citadel Council runs the show, and the Alliance agreed to play ball. That means we work with aliens. Whether you like it or not, that’s the reality.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “You don’t have to like him, but you do have to respect him.”

    Nihlus found himself caught off guard. Shepard’s defense wasn’t just professional—it was personal. She didn’t have to correct Chase so directly, especially knowing he could hear every word. But she had, without hesitation.

    Why?

    Chase shifted awkwardly under Shepard’s sharp gaze. “Yes, ma’am,” he said finally, subdued. He glanced once more at Nihlus before nodding and walking off, leaving Shepard and the Spectre alone in the cargo bay.

    Nihlus remained silent, watching as Shepard exhaled quietly and resumed leaning against the workbench. She didn’t acknowledge him directly, but it was obvious she knew he’d been listening.

    He considered stepping forward, saying something. But he found himself hesitating, his thoughts turning inward instead.

    Why had she defended him so openly? Shepard’s loyalty to the Alliance was unquestionable, yet she’d spoken as if she truly believed in cooperation with the Council, in the broader galactic community. More than that, she’d chosen to correct her own crew in his defense, knowing exactly how it would look.

    Shepard didn’t strike him as someone who did things without reason.

    It wasn’t about me. She was defending her father.

    He replayed her words in his mind—her conviction, her poise. It wasn’t just what she’d said, but how she’d said it. Unapologetic. Confident. Commanding.

    She wasn’t just impressive. She was remarkable. The kind of leader who could hold her own in a fight and inspire loyalty and respect from anyone—even him.

    His gaze drifted to the now-closed files on his omni-tool. Selvek Itanus. Blackwatch legend. Future Primarch.

    Who gave it all up for a human.

    Nihlus’s mandibles twitched as an unbidden thought surfaced.

    Was this what Selvek felt about Hannah? This… pull? This certainty that made no logical sense?

    He still didn’t understand Selvek’s choice. Couldn’t fathom giving up Primarch, abandoning everything the Hierarchy valued, for a human family.

    But for the first time, he wondered if understanding it was even possible—or if some choices could only be felt.

    Shepard pushed off the workbench and headed toward the elevator, her posture as commanding as ever.

    Nihlus stayed where he was, watching her go.

    And wondering.