Nihlus
Nihlus woke slowly, his senses reorienting before his mind caught up. The warmth pressed against him wasn’t armor, wasn’t an unfamiliar weight—it was Shepard, her body half-draped over his, her breath steady against his chest.
His talons traced slow, absent-minded patterns along the bare skin of her back, the motion instinctive. He wasn’t sure how long he had been doing it before realization sank in. This wasn’t how these things usually went.
Normally, if he ever let himself indulge in the physical, it was precisely that—physical. A way to burn off excess tension, a calculated release before moving on. There was no expectation, no lingering, certainly no staying the night. Yet here he was, still in her bed, still wanting to be here.
That thought unsettled him, but not enough to make him move.
He exhaled slowly, studying her in the dim light. He had spent days watching her, learning her habits, assessing her skill. But never had he seen her like this—unguarded, utterly at ease. A part of him marveled at it, at how easily she had trusted him, how naturally she had fit against him in a way that should have been unfamiliar but wasn’t.
His gaze followed the lines of her face, the faint marks of past battles, the way her hair had come loose from its usual knot, spreading against the pillow. Human features were strange, different, but right now, in this moment, she looked… beautiful.
The thought caught him off guard.
What the hell am I doing?
He should move. He should start thinking ahead, rationalizing, finding the line between what this was and what it wasn’t. But he didn’t. Instead, his fingers traced another idle path along her spine, and he let himself stay just a little longer.
Then, Shepard stirred.
She stretched, a slow, languid movement, her muscles shifting under his touch before she blinked her eyes open, looking up at him with a drowsy kind of contentment. She didn’t tense, didn’t immediately shift away, just watched him for a beat before offering a small, knowing smile. “Morning, Spectre.”
Nihlus huffed, shaking his head. “You’re entirely too comfortable with this.”
Shepard propped herself up on one elbow, stretching out against him with ease. “I am comfortable. You’re the one thinking too hard.”
He exhaled sharply, glancing away before murmuring, “It’s not that simple.”
Shepard studied him, eyes narrowing slightly before softening. She could read him too well, even when he wasn’t speaking. She reached up, fingers trailing lightly along the edge of his jaw. “Then tell me what’s on your mind.”
For a moment, he considered deflecting, brushing it off, but the words came before he could stop them. “You’re being evaluated.”
Shepard blinked, her expression shifting from playful to something more serious. “Evaluated?”
He sighed, finally pulling away slightly, though not enough to push her from him. “I was assigned to this mission for more than just oversight. The Council is considering you for the Spectres.”
Shepard absorbed this, her expression unreadable for a long moment before she smirked. “And here I thought you just enjoyed surviving on rations surrounded by humans.”
Nihlus let out a low chuckle despite himself, but the weight of what he had just admitted still hung between them. “I’m the one that put your name forward for Spectre candidacy.”
Shepard shifted, moving so she was leaning over him, her face close to his, gaze steady. “Is that why you’re thinking so hard about this? About us?”
He didn’t answer immediately, but she already knew. Shepard was sharp, perceptive in ways he was only beginning to understand. And maybe that’s why, after a beat, she smirked again—not cruel, not dismissive, but understanding.
“You don’t have to worry so much about this,” she murmured. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. We can just call this what it was—a good night—and leave it at that.”
An out. She was giving him an out.
It was the logical thing to do, wasn’t it? To take the easy explanation, the clean break. He should. But did he want to?
And yet, as he looked at her—as he remembered the way her body had fit against his, the way she had trusted him so effortlessly—he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted.
Before she could move away, he caught her wrist, his grip firm but careful.
Shepard’s expression flickered—surprise, maybe, or recalibration. Like she’d expected a different answer and was adjusting course. But she didn’t pull away. She raised an eyebrow, waiting.
He should let her go, let her keep her easy explanation. But instead, he pulled her back down, his voice low. “I don’t think I want to just leave it at that.”
Shepard tilted her head slightly, searching his face, her expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, she simply asked, “Then what do you want, Nihlus?”
His mandibles twitched slightly, his grip on her wrist tightening just enough to betray his hesitation. He knew the answer. It wasn’t uncertainty that kept him silent—it was the war between what he wanted and what he should want. Between duty and something far more personal.
He exhaled, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know what happens next. But I know this wasn’t meaningless. And I need you to know that too.”
Shepard studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she shifted, leaning just a little closer, her voice quieter but no less steady. “I hear you. But what I don’t know, Nihlus, is what you want this to be. Because I can take the easy answer if that’s what you need. But if it’s not—if you’re not just saying this to make yourself feel better—then I need to know. Do you want to just walk away from this, or do you want to try?”
Her words settled heavily between them. A challenge, in a way, though not the kind they usually traded. This wasn’t about winning or losing. This was about choice.
And for the first time in a long time, Nihlus wasn’t sure he wanted the easy way out.
His mandibles flicked slightly, a rare tell of uncertainty. He let out a slow breath before meeting her gaze directly. “What answer do you want, Shepard? You know what I am, you know what you could be. After this mission, if it goes well, it may be the beginning of a few more missions together.” Nihlus paused considering his next words carefully. “It also could be that we won’t be seeing each other for weeks or months at a time. But if this isn’t just a good night to you—if you want more—then tell me. Because I need to know if that’s enough for you. Is that what you want?”
Shepard held his gaze, considering his words carefully. Then, after a moment, she exhaled, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I think there might be something here, Nihlus. But neither of us is in a place to change our lives for it, to make decisions based on one night, as good as it may have been, not yet. Maybe we just see where this goes, see if we still want to find each other the next time we’re in the same part of the galaxy.”
She reached up, fingers tracing the edge of his jaw, a deliberate reassurance. “Every few weeks, every few months… I can do that, if you can.”
Nihlus hesitated, his mandibles twitching in thought. A part of him questioned whether this was fair—to her, to himself. The life of a Spectre was never predictable, never stable. But as he looked at Shepard, at the quiet certainty in her eyes, the conflict inside him began to settle.
He exhaled, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, letting himself choose. “I’m willing to try. If this works, if we keep finding each other out there… then we’ll know.” His voice was steady now, conviction replacing hesitation. “And if it doesn’t, at least I won’t have to regret giving up before we had a chance.”
Shepard smiled, her lips meeting his again. Nihlus tightened his grip on her briefly, more determined now. The doubts that lingered now weren’t about his choice but about how this would play out.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were bright with challenge. Shepard smirked. “Alright then, Spectre. Now, how exactly do you plan on getting out of here without the whole ship noticing?”
Nihlus exhaled, his mandibles twitching. “Stealth is part of my skill set.”
“Great, let’s see it in action.” Shepard slid out of bed, pulling on her tank top and shorts before cracking the door open just enough to peek out. “We’re clear for now. Let’s move.”
Nihlus followed her lead, slipping out silently, but before they could take more than a few steps, a voice from behind made them both freeze.
“I’d advise against stepping out just yet,” came the calm, knowing tone of Dr. Chakwas.
Shepard turned slowly to find the doctor leaning against the doorway to the med bay, arms crossed, one brow raised.
“Doctor,” Shepard greeted, keeping her expression neutral. “Fancy seeing you up this early.”
“Mmhmm,” Chakwas hummed, the corners of her lips twitching. “Lieutenant Alenko just walked past not a moment ago. Give it a minute.”
Nihlus shot Shepard a look, his stance still composed, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders. Shepard, meanwhile, just grinned, completely unfazed.
“What’s wrong, Spectre?” she teased in a whisper. “I thought sneaking around was part of the job.”
He huffed but said nothing as they waited. Chakwas watched them with a quiet sort of amusement before checking the hallway. “Alright, coast is clear. Best get moving before anyone else stumbles by.”
Shepard gave her a nod of gratitude, but before she could step away, Chakwas spoke again, this time addressing them both. “Come see me later for a checkup, both of you. Though probably not together.”
Shepard and Nihlus exchanged a look, both of them equally confused. Shepard was the first to ask, “Uh, why?”
“Because,” Chakwas said smoothly, “cross-species encounters sometimes have unforeseen allergic reactions, and I’d rather not find either of you in medical later because you ignored them. That goes for you too, Spectre. Before you ask, I trained in turian physiology as well.”
Nihlus arched a brow plate. “Should we be concerned?”
Chakwas gave them a dry smile. “Probably not, if you’ve made it this far. But come see me before your next mission. Just in case.”
Nihlus let out a slow exhale, shaking his head as he followed Shepard down the hall. “You have a very complicated biology. Should I be worried?”
Shepard just chuckled, shaking her head as she nudged him toward the elevator. “Not unless you were planning on killing me with your charm.”
Nihlus exhaled, rolling his shoulders before stepping inside. His mandibles twitched slightly as he gave her a lingering look, something unreadable passing through his expression. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Shepard
Shepard stayed by the door, arms crossed over her tank top, watching as the elevator doors slid shut between them. Instead of heading back to her quarters, she glanced toward the med bay. It was early enough that most of the crew wouldn’t be up yet, and if anyone saw her, they wouldn’t question her state of dress in medical. With a quiet sigh, she adjusted her tank top and made her way toward the med bay, figuring she might as well get this checkup over with now rather than later.
She stepped into the med bay, the quiet hum of machinery filling the air as Dr. Chakwas glanced up from her workstation. The doctor didn’t say anything at first, merely gave Shepard a knowing look—the kind that said she didn’t need to voice her questions because she already knew the answers.
With a sigh, Shepard crossed her arms, leaning against the examination table. “Just go ahead and say it, Doc.”
Chakwas smirked, tapping a few notes into her datapad before turning to face her fully. “Oh, I don’t need to say anything, Commander. Your presence here at this hour says plenty.”
Shepard huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re not wrong.”
“I do recall you being somewhat uncomfortable when Nihlus was first assigned to the Normandy,” Chakwas continued, her tone light, but her gaze sharp with curiosity. “And yet here we are.”
Shepard exhaled slowly, running a hand through her still-messy hair. “I don’t know exactly how or when it happened. But …At first, I figured it’d be nothing more than a good night—fun while it lasted, then move on. But… it doesn’t feel like that’s what he wants.”
Chakwas watched her for a moment before asking, “And what do you want, Shepard?”
Shepard didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let the question settle, rolling it over in her mind as she stared absently at the floor. She had never been one to get caught up in uncertain emotions, never one to dwell too long on what-ifs. But this was different. He was different.
Finally, she looked back up at Chakwas, her voice quieter but sure. “I don’t know. I, honestly, wasn’t expecting this. It’s…been a while.”
Chakwas nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Then I suppose the real question is—what do you do with that, Commander?”
Shepard didn’t have an answer yet. But she knew one thing for certain.
She needed to find out.
Chakwas turned back to her console, pulling up Shepard’s medical records with a few quick taps on the screen. “Well, since you’re here, I might as well check if there’s anything to be concerned about,” she murmured, scanning through the data. Her brow furrowed slightly as she scrolled. “Hm. You’ve got a long history of dextro allergy treatments. Since childhood, it looks like.”
Shepard nodded, unsurprised. “Yeah. My father—well, the man who raised me—he’s a turian. It started as a precaution, just in case. Cross-contamination, accidental ingestion, even just from being around him so much.”
Chakwas arched an eyebrow but smiled slightly. “That explains a lot. And from what I can see here, you’ve been regularly monitored over the years. Your system should be well adapted by now. I don’t see anything that would cause concern.”
Shepard exhaled, feeling a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying lift slightly. “Good to know.”
She hopped off the table and made her way out of the med bay, her thoughts lingering on Nihlus as she walked towards her quarters. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened—what any of this meant. Had she missed him these past few days? Had she gone looking for him, hoping for this? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t deny the attraction, the way they worked well together—on the field, in a fight, and now, in ways she hadn’t expected.
She knew turians were comfortable ‘blowing off steam’ casually, but this had felt like more. And that unsettled her. She didn’t do easy. She didn’t fall into something without thinking, and yet here she was, thinking about him, replaying every touch, every hesitation, every choice they’d made the night before. She’d known other partners for months—years—before ever considering something like this. With Nihlus it had been what, a few weeks? A handful of sparring matches and late-night conversations?
She stepped into her quarters, letting the door slide shut behind her. Crossing the room, she sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing a hand over her face. Meeting once every few weeks or months wouldn’t tell them much beyond what they already knew. They could share meals, share nights, but would that ever be enough to truly know if this was something real? Or was she holding onto the idea of something, rather than what was possible?
She sighed, running a hand through her hair before leaning back against the mattress. She didn’t have the answers yet. But she knew one thing—she wasn’t ready to let this go just yet.
Nihlus
Nihlus sat in the dimly lit cargo bay, alone with his thoughts, his rifle in hand as he methodically checked each component. His mind, however, was elsewhere.
He had told Shepard he was willing to try. He had meant it. But now, in the quiet solitude of the ship, the weight of what that meant settled heavily on him. He didn’t know what came next. If her candidacy would be approved. If they’d work together or be sent to opposite ends of the galaxy. The life of a Spectre was never predictable. And yet, for the first time in years, he wanted to find out—wanted to see where this led.
That simple truth unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
He had always followed his instincts, made his own choices. But he had never been beholden to anything—or anyone—beyond the mission. And yet, here he was, thinking about a woman he shouldn’t be thinking about. Wondering how long it would be before he saw her again. Wondering if he’d even get the chance.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. No. Focus.
But the longer he sat there, the more his mind refused to let it go. Shepard wasn’t just anyone. He had seen it firsthand—the way she carried herself, the way she commanded respect without demanding it. The way she trusted him without hesitation. She was something rare. And that meant this—whatever this was—was worth figuring out.
“You’re the one thinking too hard.”
She was right. He was. He didn’t need to have all the answers right now. But he also didn’t need to waste the time they had.
Setting his rifle aside, Nihlus stood and made his way through the ship, his movements instinctively quiet. He found her easily enough, just as he had suspected—alone, sitting near the observation port in the lower deck, watching the endless stretch of space beyond. She wasn’t in uniform, just a tank top and loose pants, relaxed but not unaware. She had known he was coming before he even stepped into the room.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked without looking away from the viewport.
“Something like that,” he admitted, stepping closer. “And you?”
Shepard smirked faintly. “You’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that.”
He huffed in amusement, crossing his arms as he leaned against the nearby bulkhead. “You’re right. I was just being polite.”
A comfortable silence stretched between them for a moment, the quiet hum of the Normandy the only sound. Then, finally, Shepard turned her gaze toward him, studying him in that way that made him feel like she could see more than he intended.
“You thinking about tomorrow?” she asked.
He hesitated, then nodded. “Among other things.”
She nodded, as if she already knew. “Big mission.”
“It should be routine,” he said, though something in his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.
She didn’t argue. She understood that instinct as well as he did—the feeling that something was coming, even when you couldn’t name it.
“But I meant what I said, Shepard,” he continued, voice quieter now. “This wasn’t just a distraction. I don’t know what happens next, but I know I don’t want this to be the last time.”
Shepard considered that for a moment, then leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure it’s not.”
Something in his chest eased at that—her certainty, her willingness to meet him halfway.
Shepard studied him for another long moment before she finally pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Then don’t waste time brooding, Spectre. You’re here now.”
Nihlus huffed a quiet laugh. “You always this direct?”
“Only when I don’t feel like wasting time either.”
He didn’t question it. Didn’t hesitate. Instead, he closed the distance between them, letting himself take this moment—not because it might be their last, but because it was theirs to take.
Joker
Shepard stepped onto the bridge, her footsteps light but confident, and leaned against the angled housing of the helm like she’d been doing it for years. Joker didn’t even have to turn his head—he’d clocked her the second she came within ten feet.
“Well, don’t you look rested, Commander,” he said without missing a beat, smirk already in place.
She rolled her eyes and exhaled through her nose, clearly amused. “Don’t miss much, do you, Joker?”
He shrugged, fingers dancing over the console. “You realize I’m stuck in this chair all day, right? Man needs hobbies.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “How are we looking?”
“Good. ETA to the relay’s about thirty minutes.” He glanced back at her, catching her silhouette against the soft glow of the bridge lights. “So… that’s it? You’re really just gonna leave it there?”
“Leave what there?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Commander. Shepard. A turian. I mean, can humans and turians even…?”
She groaned, rubbing her temples as if he were the headache. “Tell me, Joker. What about you?”
He blinked. “What about me?”
“Well, if we’re talking about my love life…”
“Ha! You’re funny, Shepard.” He gestured toward his own chest, exaggerated for emphasis. “You do realize I could break a bone just kissing you, right?”
At that, her eyebrow rose and the corner of her mouth quirked. “Me?”
Damn it, Moreau.
He fumbled for a second, then recovered. “You know what I mean. Anyone.”
“So you’re saying you’ve never had a girlfriend before?”
He scoffed. “No, I have. Just… none with shoulder blades that could cut through steel. Or you know, claws.”
She laughed, the sound warm and low, then settled in more comfortably beside him. “So…?”
Joker blinked. “Wait, we’re doing this now? Childhood crushes?”
“Hey, you started it.”
He grinned, kicking back slightly in his chair. “Alright, fine. There was a girl in middle school, used to draw dinosaurs all over her notebooks. I was obsessed. Thought she was the coolest person alive.”
“What happened?”
“She moved. I cried into a pizza.”
She laughed again—real, easy. They kept going like that, trading harmless stories: awkward school dances, badly written love notes, Joker’s brief but passionate crush on a girl who beat him at chess, Shepard’s regrettable flirtation with a guy who claimed to “train with biotics,” but definitely did not.
The minutes passed without them noticing.
It wasn’t flirtation, not really. Just comfort. And Joker found himself relaxing in a way he hadn’t since before Nihlus stepped on board.
He was about to ask her something—something only half serious about whether turian mandibles made kissing better or worse—when Kaidan stepped into the cockpit and came up short, clearly not expecting to find her here. Joker didn’t miss the flicker of surprise, the quick scan of the room, the way his eyes landed on Shepard beside him. The casual ease of her posture. The faint smile she hadn’t quite tucked away.
Joker wasn’t delusional. Shepard wasn’t flirting with him. But Kaidan didn’t know that.
And the way Kaidan looked between them?
Yeah. Joker allowed himself a rare, private moment of smug satisfaction.
She slept with a turian, Moreau. You never had a chance.
Still felt kinda good, though.
“Uh, Commander,” Kaidan said finally.
“Kaidan.” She acknowledged him with a nod but didn’t move.
Then Nihlus entered.
The Spectre’s stride was confident, sharp, and—for once—just a little caught off guard. Joker didn’t miss the subtle pause when Nihlus saw Shepard seated next to him. Nor the way his mandibles twitched as he looked between her and him before stepping forward.
“Coming up on the relay, Commander,” Joker said, turning toward her.
Shepard stood, the transformation immediate. She slipped back into command like slipping into armor, her stance sharpening, her voice calm and clear. “Comms open. Ship’s yours, Joker.”
Joker straightened in his seat, hands flying across the console.
“The Arcturus Prime relay is in range. Initiating transmission sequence.”
“We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination.”
“The relay is hot. Acquiring approach vector.”
“All stations secure for transit.”
“The board is green. Approach run has begun.”
He felt it before he said it—that familiar hum of energy, the barely-contained roar of the relay’s mass effect fields building to launch. Every time, it gave him a rush.
“Hitting the relay in three… two… one…”
Light flared. Space folded. And then—
“Thrusters… check. Navigation… check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online. Drift… just under fifteen hundred K.”
Nihlus nodded. “Fifteen hundred is good. Your captain will be pleased.”
And just like that, he turned to leave.
Joker glanced up just in time to catch the look Shepard gave the Spectre—something that landed somewhere between amused and annoyed. She muttered something too low for Joker to catch.
But Nihlus caught it. He paused, turning back slightly to glance at her—and for just a second, something passed between them. Something private. Something that made Joker suddenly feel like he was intruding on a conversation he couldn’t hear.
Then Nihlus was gone.
Joker let out a breath. “I hate that guy.”
Kaidan didn’t even look up from his console. “Nihlus gave you a compliment. So you hate him?”
“You remember to zip up your jumpsuit on the way out of the bathroom? That’s good. I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead. That’s incredible.”
Kaidan shook his head.
“Besides, Spectres are trouble. I don’t like having him on board. Call me paranoid.” Joker continued.
“You’re paranoid,” Kaidan replied automatically. “The Council helped fund this project. They have a right to send someone to keep an eye on their investment.”
Joker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that is the official story. But only an idiot believes the official story.”
Shepard sighed. “They don’t send Spectres on shakedown runs.”
“So there’s more going on here than the captain’s letting on.” Joker added.
Before she could respond, Anderson’s voice crackled over the comms. “Joker. Status report.”
Joker snapped upright. “Just cleared the mass relay, Captain. Stealth systems engaged. Everything looks solid.”
“Good. Find a comm buoy and link us into the network. I want mission reports relayed back to Alliance brass before we reach Eden Prime.”
Joker smiled to himself. The captain sounded pleased. “Aye aye, Captain.”
A beat passed.
“Better brace yourself, sir. I think Nihlus is headed your way.”
“He’s already here, Lieutenant,” Anderson snapped. “Tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing.”
The comm went silent.
“And… you made him mad. Again,” Shepard said with a sigh, “You do realize it’s me pulling your ass out of the fire every time you annoy the captain?”
There wasn’t any real heat in her voice—just that tired kind of affection people saved for friends who made their lives harder but more entertaining.
Joker grinned. “Pfft. Don’t blame me. The captain’s always in a bad mood.”
She shook her head, already stepping toward the exit. No real frustration in her voice—just that familiar edge, the one that said she’d cover for him again, like always. Not because she had to. Because she chose to.
That thought stuck in his throat a little.
“Hey, Commander?” he called after her, quieter this time.
She paused, turning just enough to glance back over her shoulder.
Kaidan looked up too—still sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, probably still wondering what the hell he’d walked in on.
Joker ignored him. Focused on her.
“Thanks,” he said, a little more honest now. “And… good luck.”
She gave him a small, appreciative smile and nodded as she turned, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Joker turned back to the console, letting the silence of the bridge settle again. But Kaidan didn’t move. He was still staring at him.
Kaidan shifted beside him, clearly trying to act casual. He failed.
“…Something on your mind, Alenko?”
Kaidan hesitated. Then, awkwardly, “Is… is there something going on between you two?”
Joker laughed, shaking his head as he motioned toward himself. “Breadstick, remember?”
Me and her? Never going to happen.
He knew that. She wasn’t just out of his league—she wasn’t even playing the same sport.
With that he turned to his console. They may never be more than friends but if Joker was honest with himself, that was more than enough. He could see Shepard wasn’t just another ordinary soldier or commanding officer. And he was beginning to realize she might just be worth following.
Nihlus
Nihlus stood in the comm room, arms crossed, waiting for her. He had been up for hours, unable to shake the unease that had settled in his gut since the moment they had set course for Eden Prime. It should have been a routine mission—but something about it wasn’t. The tension in the room was thick, pressing against him like an unseen force. And now this…whatever that was in the cockpit.
He barely registered when Shepard stepped in, her movements as precise and confident as ever. She came to a stop beside him, posture straight, expression unreadable.
“He deserves better than a participation trophy?” Nihlus pressed, the words coming out more sharp than he intended.
She didn’t even blink. “He’s the best pilot in the Alliance fleet.”
He scoffed. “And plenty of turians, asari, and even hanar can hit a relay. I hardly see why your pilot needs a reward.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Spectre.” Her tone was light, but her gaze wasn’t. There was frustration there—real frustration—and he could see it wasn’t just about Joker.
He opted to move on. He wasn’t jealous. Was he?
“I’m interested in this world we’re going to. Eden Prime. What can you tell me about it?”
Shepard’s expression shifted—something cooled behind her eyes. “Nihlus.” Her voice was quieter now. Calmer. The kind of calm that preceded storms. “You want to tell me what’s really going on? You don’t need me to answer that, and we both know you’ve been keeping me in the dark about more than the Spectre candidacy.”
Nihlus felt the words land like a punch. He could hear the betrayal beneath the professionalism, the edge of something sharper she was holding back. He suddenly regretted not having told her the rest. Not last night. Not this morning. Not ever.
Before he could answer, Anderson walked back in. He glanced between them, reading the tension immediately, then turned to Nihlus. “I think it’s about time we told the Commander what’s really going on.”
Nihlus met his stare without hesitation. “She already knows. Some of it.”
Shepard’s gaze snapped to his, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “Some of it?”
Anderson’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes—understanding, maybe recognition. He studied Nihlus for just a beat longer than necessary, and in that silence, Nihlus knew Anderson had already pieced together what had happened between them. But the Captain said nothing, only nodding once before shifting gears.
“We’re making a covert pick-up on Eden Prime,” Anderson said, his tone clipped, professional. “It’s why we needed the stealth systems operational.”
Shepard’s hands flexed once at her sides—brief, controlled—before going still again. “There must be a reason you didn’t tell me about this, sir.” Her voice was perfectly level. Too level. The kind of tone that meant she was working very hard to keep it that way.
Anderson’s jaw tightened. He didn’t quite meet her eyes. “This comes down from the top, Commander. Information on a need-to-know basis only.”
Nihlus watched her absorb that, watched the way her shoulders stayed rigid, the slight flare of her nostrils. She was angry—furious, maybe—but she was keeping it locked down so tightly he wondered if Anderson could even see it. But Nihlus could. He’d seen her unguarded. He knew what she looked like when she wasn’t performing.
“What’s the payload, Captain?” The question was measured, each word precise.
Anderson glanced at Nihlus, the look unmistakable: You didn’t tell her?
Nihlus exhaled slowly, shifting his weight. He’d known this moment was coming. Didn’t make it easier. “The Alliance uncovered a Prothean beacon on Eden Prime. That’s why we’re here. The Council wants it secured and studied before it falls into the wrong hands.”
For just a second—so brief he almost missed it—her eyes cut to him. Sharp. Accusatory. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. The message was clear: You knew. This whole time, you knew.
“Is that why you’re here, Nihlus?” Her voice was still carefully neutral, but there was steel beneath it now. “Are you expecting trouble?”
“I’m always expecting trouble.” The words came out harder than he meant them to. Defensive.
Joker’s voice broke through the comms, grim and urgent. “Captain, we’ve got a problem. Transmission from Eden Prime. You better see this.”
The screen flickered to life, showing a shaky feed from a marine’s helmet cam. Weapons fire lit up the night, shadows moving chaotically through the smoke. The marine’s panicked voice crackled through the feed. “We’re under attack! Taking heavy casualties. Repeat, heavy casualties! Request immediate evac—”
The video suddenly shifted, capturing a massive, alien ship against the sky. The shape was otherworldly, towering, with long spindly limbs stretching out like grasping fingers. The marine barely had time to react before the feed cut to static.
Anderson let out a slow breath, his expression grim. “This mission just got a lot more complicated.”
Shepard’s focus snapped back to the screen, her body shifting into a different mode entirely—mission mode. Whatever anger she’d been holding onto got filed away, locked down beneath layers of training and discipline. “We’re not dealing with pirates or mercs. Whatever that ship is, whatever’s on that beacon, someone wanted it badly enough to hit a major Alliance colony.”
Nihlus felt a flicker of approval at how fast she’d shifted, how quickly she’d assessed the situation. But it was overshadowed by the unease still crawling beneath his skin, by the look she’d given him moments before. This mission had already become something else entirely.
Anderson gave her a firm nod. “Gear up, Commander. You deploy in five.”
Shepard exchanged a glance with Nihlus. No words. Just a look that carried weight—acknowledgment, maybe, or calculation. She nodded once before turning on her heel, making her way toward the cargo bay.
As they arrived in the cargo bay, Nihlus adjusted his pistol, checking each component with practiced efficiency. But the weight pressing at the back of his mind wouldn’t ease. He turned to Shepard as she geared up beside him.
“I’ll scout ahead.” This was what he was trained for, what he had always done—go first, clear the way, keep moving.
Shepard paused, her hands stilling on her armor for just a moment. When she looked up at him, her expression was unreadable again—Commander Shepard, not the woman who’d fallen asleep against his chest. “Be careful. Stay on comms.”
The words should have been routine. Standard operating procedure. But they weren’t. Not this time. There was something in the way she held his gaze, something that felt like a question she wasn’t asking.
He wanted to say something—apologize for not telling her sooner, explain why he’d kept it from her, bridge the gap that had opened between them in the comm room. But the words wouldn’t come. Not here. Not now. Not with the mission hanging over them.
So he just gave her one last look, memorizing the lines of her face, the set of her jaw, the way she was already shifting into combat readiness.
For the first time in his life, Nihlus had a reason to come back.
He stepped off the Normandy and disappeared into the unknown.