You Say the Nicest Things

Garrus' eyes shot open. Mind foggy with sleep, he strained to listen, trying to place the sound that woke him. Someone was in the Main Battery with him, he heard the gentle sounds of breathing. Bleary-eyed, he swung his legs over the side of the cot, scanning the room, but nothing jumped out at him in the shadows. He stood and took a step, letting out a startled yelp when his foot came down on something warm and soft, giving beneath his weight. He stumbled, landing back on the cot as someone choked out a strangled gasp and groan.

Spirits!

Looking down, he saw a figure lying on the floor a foot from his cot, arms wrapped around themselves as they sputtered and coughed. It only took a second for him to process the shape and the scent in the air, making some sort of sense of it all. "Shepard?"

She coughed and groaned again, rolling over to tuck her knees under her, head pressed against a blanket she'd laid out on the floor. "Yeah," she said, voice strained, gasping in shallow breaths.

"Spirits, are you alright?" he asked, subvocals laced heavily with concern. Leaning over, he settled his hand on her back. "EDI, lights!"

The lights flicked on, forcing him to blink against the glare despite expecting the sudden intrusion. Shepard's face scrunched up, and she tucked her head in more, bringing her chin to her chest.

"Shepard, do you require medical assistance?" EDI asked.

"No," Shepard said, her voice still strained, and she groaned again. "No, I'm good, just uh, give me a minute." She rolled her head to the side, looking at him with narrowed eyes, face contorted in pain. Reaching out, she slapped the back of her hand against his calf. "You stepped on me, you giant-footed asshole."

He chuckled, mandibles fluttering. "What are you doing in here?"

She let out a low whine, a deliberate sound based on the way she scrunched up her nose. "I thought I'd be safer in here with you."

"Safer?" His brow plates lifted, mandibles flaring wide. "Your cabin's not safe?"

She rolled onto her back, drawing her knees up, hands still resting on her stomach, red hair splayed out around her like a fiery halo. "On a Cerberus vessel?"

"Hmmm. Good point."


He laid on his cot, hands tucked under his head, thoughts drifting to Sidnois as the soft hum of the battery lulled him off to sleep. The door to the Main Battery hissed, and he opened his eyes, turning to look at the tiny human silhouetted in the door, blankets and pillows tucked under her arms.

"You awake?" Her voice was soft, hesitant, barely more than a whisper.

He suppressed a weary sigh. "Yeah. Coming in here to sleep?"

"You going to step on me again if I do?" Despite the cocky, teasing tone, there was something just beneath, a faint tremble to her words.

He flicked a mandible and sat up, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. "Not if I know you're there." He glanced up at her, searching out her gaze cast in shadows. "Shepard … you can't ride out this war sleeping on my floor. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to know that you trust me enough to watch your six, even while we sleep, but …."

"No, it's okay. I get it, I'm invading your personal space." She turned her head, glancing back over her shoulder, the soft lights of the mess catching on her face. She looked so lost, and it made him feel like an ass. "Sorry, I'll go. Get some sleep, Garrus." Turning she walked away, the door sliding closed behind her.

He pushed up to his feet, crossing the floor and slapped his palm against the door's control release. "Shepard, wait."

She stopped, nearly to the steps leading down to the mess, and turned back around. Hope flitted across her green eyes as they met his, and she lifted an eyebrow. He jerked his head back towards the Main Battery, turning a little to clear the doorway. When she just stood there looking at him, her flat, little teeth gnawing at her lip, he sighed, lifting a hand to wave his fingers.

"Come on." He took a step back, angling himself toward his cot, still within the door's sensors to keep it open. "We'll figure it out in the morning. Set some traps or something in your cabin."

She grinned, walking back to the Main Battery. "You say the nicest things, Vakarian."

Chuckling, he waited for her to come back inside before letting the door close. He hummed, rubbing his hand over his fringe. "Do you, uh, do you want the cot?"

"Nah, I'm good on the floor. Bad enough I'm in here, don't need to take your bed, too."


"Garrus?"

He sucked in a slow breath, her scent invading his nostrils. It was everywhere, all over the Main Battery, he couldn't escape it, even when she wasn't in there with him. It was his fourth night on the new Normandy and his fourth night with his new roommate. He'd tried setting up traps for her in the foyer between the elevator and her cabin as well as inside the cabin itself, but EDI told Miranda, and Miranda 'pitched a fit' until Shepard caved and had him remove the traps. Her being there was slowly driving him insane.

It wasn't anything against Shepard, not really. He cared about her, respected her more than just about anyone in the entire galaxy. Hell, it nearly killed him when she died, and seeing her show up on Omega gave him the first spark of hope he'd felt in a long, long time. He wanted her to feel safe, he wanted her to be happy. If anyone deserved it, she did. So, if there was something he could do to help her have that, then he would, and without complaint. But … he wasn't exactly in the best place. Wasn't exactly the same turian she learned to put her faith in before the attack on the old Normandy. The last two years without her, trying to figure things out on his own, trying to make someone listen and take the reaper threat seriously … losing his team on Omega … it changed him. He wasn't so sure he deserved her faith, or anyone's for that matter.

"Garrus?" she said again, a little louder.

He'd hoped when he didn't answer the first time she'd think he was asleep and leave him be, let him ruminate and be miserable in peace. "Yeah?"

"I'm … I'm still me, right? You'd be able to tell if Cerberus did something to me, wouldn't you? Made me different somehow."

His brow plates folded in and he rolled over to look at her in the dark, finding her laying on her side, staring up at him. He watched her for a few moments, the sharp tang of her fear starting to pool around her as he took his time contemplating his answer. "You still smell like you. Well, you and now hot metal, too. You look the same, just with a few new, creepy, glowing scars. Hmmm, but I've got a few new scars myself."

She snorted, and he could see the lift of her lips in the little light coming from the battery's console. "That's not what I mean, but thanks. It's always nice hearing I look creepy."

He chuffed, mandible flicking in a grin, letting his humor settle into his subvocals. "Well, you are human."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Uh, I'll have you know, before I died and Cerberus brought me back looking like something out of a low-budget horror vid, I was quite attractive."

"I don't even know where to start with that sentence, Shepard." He hummed. "But if it helps, I think you're still you." Shifting, he hung his arm down over the edge of the cot, tapping his bare talon against the metal floor as he thought. "You still hate Cerberus. If they were going to change something about you, don't you think they'd make you more, hmmm, compliant towards them? And you're in here, sleeping next to an alien, because you feel safer with me than you do around any of them, right?"

"Yeah." Something in her voice told him she still wasn't so sure.

He stopped his tapping and just watched her for a moment. "You're still you, Shepard."

"Miranda said the Illusive Man wanted her to bring me back exactly as I was, but if she'd had her way, she would've put a control chip inside of me." She paused, tongue darting out of her mouth to lick her lips. "How do I know she really didn't?"

"Are you kidding?" He chuffed, flicking his wrist toward the door before letting his hand drop back to the floor. "Have you heard the way she talks? That woman isn't going against the Illusive Man's orders anytime soon."

Shepard reached out, stubby fingers wrapping around his and squeezed. "Thank you, Garrus." Tears glinted in her eyes, one breaking free to slide down her cheek, shimmering in the soft light.

His brow plates quirked, mandibles falling still. The gesture took him by surprise—especially while he wasn't wearing his gloves—just as much as seeing tears in her eyes. "Anytime, Shepard."

He closed his hand over hers, returning the gentle pressure, letting her hold on to him for as long as she wanted. It was kind of nice, actually. He wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type, not that he had anything against touch, he just didn't often find himself in those sorts of situations. She sniffled, bringing her other hand up to swipe at her face. Her hand was so smooth, so soft, with so much give against his hide, it intrigued him enough for him to indulge himself in brushing his thumb over the back of her hand just to feel the shift and pull of her skin. After a moment, her thumb moved, lightly pressing against the tip of his talon, as if she was just as curious about him.


Shepard laughed, and it brought a smile to his face. She'd come to the Main Battery quite a bit earlier than usual, a bottle of human-made rum tucked under her arm and a look of determination on her face. After popping it open and guzzling nearly a quarter of the bottle, she'd shoved it against his keel and told him to start drinking because she wasn't leaving until he told her what was bothering him. They'd spent the next three hours killing off the bottle together and just talking.

He'd already told her most of what happened on Omega after he joined up, but he didn't go too deep into the details. It hurt too much. Made him too angry. And the look of sympathy on her face, well, it didn't help anything at all. But she was right, he did need to get some of the crap off his chest, and the alcohol did help to loosen his tongue. Somewhere along the line, though, their conversation devolved into drunken banter and glory stories.

Her laughter died down, grin still plastered on her face, and she met his gaze. "You didn't?" She sat on the floor, back flat against the doorframe with one leg stretched out in front of her, the other bent. She draped her arm over her knee and watched him, pale skin flushed and eyes a little glassy.

"Damn right I did." He flared his mandibles, leaning back against the cool, metal wall behind him and drawing one of his legs up to rest his foot on the edge of his cot. He laughed, shaking his head. "The explosion was spectacular. I wish you'd been there to see it." As soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered why she wasn't there, and it hit him like a concussive shot straight to the gut. He hummed to keep the keen from rising up in his throat, mandibles drooping. "I really missed you, Shepard."

Something in her face shifted, eyebrows pulling down, eyes taking on a sad edge, and he thought maybe neither of them were any good at hiding their emotions while drinking. She pulled her other leg up, pushing her palm into the floor, and dragged herself up to her feet. Wobbling a little, she threw one of her arms out to the side, and he lunged forward, reaching out to help catch her, thinking she was about to fall.

She grinned, swatting at his hand. "I'm not that drunk." She gestured at his cot. "Can I sit with you?"

Brow plates shifting up, he shrugged, leaning back against the wall again. "Sure."

She eased onto the cot next to him, scooting all the way back, short, little legs stretched out in front of her, just barely reaching out over the edge. "What?" she asked, arching her eyebrows when he chuckled.

He flicked his mandible. "You're just so short."

She snorted. "Shut up," she said, reaching out and slapping his bare stomach with the back of her hand.

He let out a slight oomph, her knuckles catching him in the diaphragm, then reached across himself to shove her shoulder, laughing when she nearly toppled over.

"Maybe you're just freakishly tall." She grabbed his arm, using it to heave herself back upright. "Christ, why are you so hot? Are you running a fever?"

He chuffed, turning his head to look down at her and raised a brow plate. "I'm turian, we run hotter than humans. Everything from Palaven carries a higher core temperature, evolutionary necessity, same as our plates."

A slow smile slid over her face. "No wonder you were so whiney on Noveria."

He let out a soft rumble. "And you nearly passed out a few times on Therum."

Eyes widening, mouth hanging open, she sucked in a sharp breath of air. "I did not!"

"Right." He hummed, fighting to keep his voice flat, and flicked a mandible. "My visor must've been acting up. Giving me false readings."

She laughed again, bumping her shoulder against him. "Shut up." Her gaze trailed over his face, snagging on the bandages covering the shredded mess the rocket left behind, smile faltering before her gaze flicked back to his eyes. "Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah," he said, lifting his shoulder in a shrug, "but, hmmm, it's manageable." It wasn't a complete lie, it was mostly manageable, but he didn't need her worrying about him.

She swallowed, her eyes starting to look a little wet. Her voice came out strangled when she said, "You scared the shit out of me."

"I know." He remembered the panic in her voice, the way she knelt next to him, her hand on his hip and waist, helping him to roll over as he gasped for air, choking on his own blood. The desperate look in her eyes as the sights of Omega faded around him wasn't something he'd ever forget. "I'm sorry." He lifted his hand, moving the point of a talon through the air just above her face, tracing the line of one of her glowing scars. "These hurt?"

"Yeah, but not as bad as you might think." She watched him for a few seconds, a light blush creeping over her cheeks, scent taking on an unfamiliar, soft, musky tone. "You have really pretty eyes."

He let out a quick bark of laughter, surprised and maybe a little embarrassed by the compliment, confused by the change in her scent. "You're drunk."

She grinned. "Yeah, but you still have pretty eyes. It's been kind of nice, coming down here at night when you're not wearing your visor. Let's me get a good look at them."

He fluttered his mandibles and cleared his throat. "Well, thanks. You, uh, you have pretty eyes, too." And she did, they were such a vibrant shade of green, and the only other person who'd ever been able to pin him in place with a single glance was his father. Though when his father looked at him … it didn't feel anything like the way it felt just then with Shepard's gaze locked onto his.


The sounds of her whimpers yanked him from sleep, heart pounding in his chest. He rolled over, looking down at the floor where she lay, muttering to herself, curled up with her back to him. "Shepard?"

She didn't say anything or even glance over her shoulder. He watched her for a minute, realizing she was still asleep. She whimpered again, flipping over to her back, hands reaching up to claw at her throat. He caught a whiff of her blood and realized she'd actually broken her own skin.

He reached out, grabbing her shoulder and gave her a little shake. "Shepard," he said again, a little more force and urgency in his voice.

She gasped, eyes snapping open, chest heaving. Fingers fumbling, she found his hand on her shoulder and clung to him as a sob tore through her throat, tears springing to life in her eyes. He frowned, admittedly confused and a little scared. A soft, worried trill seeped out of him, and he sat up, tugging his hand free from her in the process.

"EDI, give us a little light," Garrus said.

Shepard scrambled upright as the lights came on, brushing at her face and sucking in slow, deliberate breaths, gaze turned away from him. "Sorry," she muttered, barely coherent enough for his translator to pick up.

Shifting a little closer to the edge of the cot, a little closer to her, he reached out and put his hand back on her shoulder. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She shook her head, taking a deep breath. "Just a nightmare. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Spirits." He rubbed his free hand over his face. "You're bleeding."

She brought a hand to her neck and then shrugged, the bones of her shoulder lifting up into his palm, making his fingers twitch with the urge to trace over those harder places. "It's just a scratch."

He hummed, gaze drifting over the marks at her throat. "What were you dreaming about," he asked, voice soft, thinking he already knew the answer. He pushed himself up from the cot, stepping around her to retrieve the first aid kit off his workstation and brought it back over. He squatted down in front of her, opening the kit before meeting her gaze.

She snorted, raising an eyebrow at him, the sarcastic look losing its impact with tears still drying on her face. "Seriously, Vakarian? It's a scratch."

He flicked his mandible, digging out one of the antiseptic wipes and tearing open the package, the harsh scent of alcohol stinging at his nose. "Humor me. I won't be able to get back to sleep with the smell of your blood lingering in the air."

"Oh." The word was soft, her scent taking on the bitter traces of guilt. She tilted her head back, exposing her throat to him with ease.

He swallowed, telling his half-asleep brain that it wasn't an act of submission and she was not a potential mate offering herself to him. "You're not going to tell me what your nightmare was about?" he asked, distracting himself as he ran the swab over the scratch marks.

"Alchera," she said, and it was all she needed to say.