A/N: I originally published this on the kinkmeme, which has character limits for each section. I didn't attempt to write full chapters as a result, so please excuse the little scene divisions below. This is my first bit of creative writing and I'd love to have some feedback about it, if anyone would care to leave any!

The original one-shot version of this story is now posted as the LAST CHAPTER (I didn't want to upset anyone by deleting it entirely.) My decision to expand the story resulted in my needing to delay some of the "risque content" until later on.


"Dammit." Shepard swung the barrel of her Paladin around, firing a shot into the skull of a last staggering husk. "Joker? We're ready for that evac anytime now."

"Ha– " staccato bursts of white noise interrupted. "Comman– EDI's offline." Joker's voice broke off into a long hiss of static.

Shepard sighed, pushing her communicator harder against her ear as she waved the all-clear to Garrus. He looked worn, she realized, feeling concern creep into her expression. "Hey, looks like we'll be hanging here for a bit," she shouted over the wind as he drew closer, proceeding to fill him in on the Normandy situation.

"Heh. Well at least we got Victus off safely." Garrus sat down heavily and looked up at the darkening sky.

Shepard's gaze followed, noting the almost indistinguishable area of Palaven that the turian had previously pointed out as his home. It was a wonder she could make it out at all. The whole planet was ablaze.

She knocked his shoulder plate with her armor-clad knee, an attempt to distract them both from the unsettling sight. "Alright soldier, I'm getting windburn. Back to base."

He looked up at her with an unfocused expression.

"Garrus?"

"Not gonna happen Commander." He turned his face into the wind, eyes closing and mandibles flaring as he seemed to sniff the air.

Shepard raised one brow in question, realizing that her skin felt oddly tight as she did so.

"Radiation storm's brewing." Garrus' subvocals were suddenly teasing as he bent to grab his rifle and nodded at Shepard's helmet. "Better put that back on. It's time to find some shelter before that soft human skin of yours gets fried."

She rolled her eyes, but complied – carelessly shoving her shoulder-length hair off her face and tugging her N7 helmet back on. "You turians. We all know you only rag on how soft we are 'cause you're jealous of our flexibility." The corner of her mouth twitched up as Garrus' bright blue eyes widened fractionally.

"Never gonna live that one down, huh?"

She gave him a playful punch. "Nope."

– – – – –

They managed to scan for a shielded cave just a few meters east of their location. Already inside, Shepard began unloading her weapons into a neat row. She absentmindedly watched as Garrus squeezed his large form through the small opening, chuckling softly when the collar of his armor wedged for a moment. She forgot just how big he was sometimes, recalling that the last time she'd had such a thought, she'd found herself on the receiving end of a crushing hug – her t-shirt clad torso completely enveloped by blue, and bruising, armor. Garrus had decided to try out "that arm wrap thing you humans do" as they said their farewells just a few months ago, in front of her favorite weapons store on the Citadel.

You call me if the Alliance requests a character reference." Garrus feigned nonchalance as he continued, "the Shadowbroker tells me Archangel's name carries a lot of weight these days."

"I'm not sure the testimony of a vigilante turian would be the best defense for me... but thanks Garrus. I appreciate it." She pried herself away from his grasp with a huff. "You might want to tone down the force on that hug just a tad before you go testing it out on any other unsuspecting members of my species. Not all of us have the benefits of a Project Lazarus rebuild." She reached her left hand up to her right shoulder and gave it an exaggerated roll.

"No worries Commander." Garrus gave her a wink. "You know, I'm really more of a one human kind of turian."

Shepard returned his smile – or rather, his mandible spread – as she turned to walk away, missing the slight tremor of his face plates as he watched her leave.

"I'm glad you find this predicament so amusing," Garrus said with a pained expression, drawing Shepard's thoughts back to the present. He was still firmly jammed between the rocks the framed the narrow cave opening.

Realizing that she'd broken into a wide grin, Shepard stood with a laugh, brushing silvery dirt from her black and red armor and striding over to assess the situation. She blinked up at him innocently. "Need a hand Vakarian?"

"You're so lucky I can't reach my rifle right now." Garrus took a swipe at her with his free arm as she jumped back with a yelp and a peal of laughter.

"Ok, ok. Stop wiggling. You're making it worse." Shepard put her hands up, in truce. "Like I'd leave you in there all night. Who'd make me dinner?" She gave him a sly smile.

"Shepard." Garrus sighed. "You haven't changed one bit."

She patted his arm comfortingly and smiled into his eyes. "Aw, I missed you too, Garrus."

– – – – –

Garrus' mandibles flared at the intimacy of Shepard's contact. Her gloved hands were currently resting at his waist as she considered how best to pull him free. He swallowed and glanced down at the top of her head. She probably had no idea what this sort of touch would signify in turian culture.

"Ah!" she muttered under her breath as she twisted his torso with a quick jerk.

Garrus suddenly found himself free and staggering forward to balance his weight before he toppled into his commanding officer.

His commander. Garrus' chest swelled with pride at the memory of Shepard's invitation to rejoin her on the Normandy just few hours prior. Though it had only been a few months of separation, he, assuming his surprising new role as head of the Reaper Task Force and she, back on Earth, he'd worried at the lack of contact. She didn't write and he'd been too nervous to, thinking she might have resumed her relationship with Alenko and cowardly, preferring to live in ignorance if that were the case. He shook his head slightly as he pushed the thought aside. It was no matter. He and Shepard were friends and nothing more. A few flirtatious conversations did not a romance make.

Unthinkingly, Garrus' pressed his talons to his still lightly scarred face plate, reminding him of the inequity in their physical appearances. She was beautiful. With those indigo eyes and that darkly gleaming fringe, inky as the midnight skies of Palaven, she could have any human she wanted. Hell, she could have quite a pick of turians too. On multiple occasions, Garrus had seen the males of his species glance at the commander's slender waist and blazing eyes. Shepard's anatomy was not unlike that of the asari, and the turians had long been familiar with and appreciative of the exaggerated femininity of their blue curves.

"Phew." Shepard exhaled in long huff. "You as exhausted as I am Vakarian?" She had resumed her position by her weapons and was proceeding to toss her armor, piece by piece, into a heap directly to the right of her sniper rifle.

Garrus couldn't help shaking his head in amusement at the contrast between the precisely laid out weapons and the haphazard pile of her armor. He studied her face momentarily before responding.

"You do look whiter than usual–"

Shepard snorted, laughing. "Thanks... Just what every girl wants to hear. I'll admit, I have been a little neglectful of my tanning schedule."

"Um... what?" Garrus paused, checking the readout of his visor as his translator pulled up information on tanning. "Oh..." his voice trailed off as he continued reading. "Wait, your world enslaved people based on their colors?" He looked up in confusion.

She sighed, wiping at the sheen of sweat that had settled across her brow with the back of her hand. "Yeah, not our finest moment. Good thing we hadn't met any asari back then. Considering how worked up we got over shades of brown, who knows what the reaction to blue would have been."

Garrus had pulled off his visor, turning his attention to Shepard as she spoke. His sharp senses focused on her face, noting the lack of pink in her cheeks that he'd become accustomed to, and the slower than usual pounding of her heart. His eyebrow ridges lowered with worry. "I think you overdid it with all that charging. You know, you don't need to take out every husk that approaches the vicinity with your biotics. I may be just a humble sniper but I do have some experience with close range enemies." He shook his head mockingly.

Shepard flashed him a smile. "Yeah, but it's more fun my way. I like to keep things fresh; a little shooting, a little shockwave here and there... Come on Garrus, don't you appreciate the artistry of my combat style?"

He did, actually. Garrus had been captivated with the sight of Shepard in battle from the very beginning. She was fierce and fearless and seemed to have the uncanny ability to be everywhere all at once. Impossibly fast, pulsing blue with biotic energy, and firing shots off with an aim that rivaled his own, the commander reminded him of the ancient turian legends of female war spirits. Tempests, they were called, named for their destructiveness and their heartbreaking beauty in combat. In the old tales, they roamed battlefields, weighing the worthiness of wounded soldiers. If you were deemed honorable and true, worthy of their loyalty, the tempest would stay with you – slaying your foes and protecting you from harm.

He wondered, if he were a broken man, how would Shepard judge him?

Garrus' coughed awkwardly, aware that he'd been silent a few moments too long. "Slow heart rate, low body temp, rapid respiration... I'd say you need something to eat."

"You know, years later and it's still creepy when you use your super-predator senses on me." Shepard arranged her face into an expression of mock consternation. "And here I thought I was your friend, not food."

He gave her his best imitation of a grin. "That remains to be seen."

– – – – –

In the end, he made a hearty meal, devouring a dextro-protein pack and watching the human by his side do the same with a nutrition pack of her own. Nothing like generating your own mass effect fields to stoke the appetite, Garrus mused, watching as Shepard enthusiastically consumed a biotic sugar booster as a second course. He surreptitiously reevaluated her vitals; her heart sounded steady and well-paced once more.

He sat back, muscles slowly relaxing. He hadn't realized he'd been so tense. Night was falling now, the air cooling rapidly in the fading light, and still no contact from the Normandy. Might as well make myself comfortable then, Garrus thought, somewhat nervously unlatching the chest plate of his armor. He didn't think Shepard had ever seen him out of it.

The commander had ordered Joker and Liara to investigate EDI's malfunction and report back as soon as they were capable of rendezvous. However, it looked like that might not be possible until morning. By then, the storm should have passed and Shepard's armor would once more provide sufficient protection from Menae's normal radiation levels. They could return to base and request transport back to the Normandy in a turian shuttle if necessary. He felt anxious to get away. It was selfish to be safely holed up in this crevice of rock while his comrades battled and burned. He stared into the fire blankly, trying desperately not to think about his father and sister. Spirits save them, he hoped they'd gotten off-planet in time.

Garrus pulled off his greaves last, setting them down by the rest of the gear he'd piled opposite to Shepard's. He felt self-conscious in his close-fitting black and silver undersuit, which bared his collar and legs from spurs down. It was foolish really. He'd spent half his life in military barracks and was well used to close-quarters and a lack of privacy. Of course, he'd never been in such a situation with Shepard before.

Seated before their small chemical fire, back braced against the cave wall, her eyes gleamed orange as she intently read off her omnitool's holographic display. Garrus' gaze followed the lines of her body. She was clad in the standard regulation under-clothing that most Alliance soldiers wore beneath their armor and during athletic training sessions. "Underarmor," she'd called it. The formfitting top piece revealed the entirety of her lean arms and the sharp bones that slashed horizontally below the column of her neck. The bottom, ending a short distance below the curve of her backside, hugged her hips. Rather than the black he'd always seen her in before, this underarmor was a cobalt blue, the exact shade of his markings, he realized. A shiver ran through his body. He liked seeing her in his colors; the blue against her skin made it all too easy to imagine that she was his.

Garrus sighed, dropping to the ground and pulling up his omnitool to check for messages before bunking down for the night. The sound of running water echoed from from far off, just barely loud enough for him to detect. It was soothing and he felt his eyelids grow heavy as the gentle trickle lulled him to sleep.

– – – – –

Falling, dying – they were all around him, crying out as blue blood bubbled grotesquely from their throats and dripped down their mandibles. He pulled his rifle from his back in a smooth, practiced motion, his legs heavy as he lunged forward to help. Faster, faster. The air around him was thick and viscous. He struggled to move against its bulk, unable to draw the dense atmosphere into his lungs. He stilled, calm setting in as he lifted his rifle as he'd done so many times before. His aim was careful and precise as he lined up the shot, a talon on the trigger. Faster, faster. He pulled, squeezing with all his might against metal that would not budge. He couldn't fire. He roared in rage and he stood by helpless, watching.

– – – – –

Shepard's eyes flew open, pupils slowly adjusting to the warm glow of firelight reflecting off the cave's close walls. She shook her hair out of her eyes as she propped herself up on both elbows, scanning her surroundings; she could have sworn she'd heard something.

Garrus lay to her left, just out of arm's reach. He had shifted towards her during the night and his thermal blanket was now twisted in a complicated tangle around his heavy limbs. She frowned as she watched his chest rise and fall unevenly. Was that normal?

He shook his head restlessly and cried out, startling her.

Guess I'm not the only one having trouble sleeping these days, Shepard thought grimly, reaching over to shake his arm. "Garrus. Wake up." He thrashed again and with a sharp inhale she snatched her hand back, looking down to see blood welling from a shallow cut along her forearm. Her mouth quirked in amusement. Apparently even a sleeping turian was hazardous.

She did the practical thing and pinned him in a straddle, sitting on his chest and trapping both arms against his sides with her legs. He was mumbling something now, but she couldn't make it out.

"Garrus?" Holding his face with both hands, she patted firmly as she tried to rouse him. He felt like leather and his toughened skin glinted silver and bronze in the flickering light. Perhaps it was odd – she didn't really know as she'd never asked any other humans their opinion on the matter – but she'd found turians fascinating from the first time she'd laid eyes on one. They looked so stoic and statuesque. As if they'd been sculpted from granite and steel. Of course, in Garrus' case, that first impression had dissolved as soon as he'd opened his mouth. She smiled, remembering; beneath that stern exterior, he was pretty damn adorable, what with his stammering awkwardness and teasing humor. Shepard's face sobered as she touched his scarred plate gently, running her thumb automatically over the raised lines. Garrus, she realized, was the closest thing she had to a best friend in this whole galaxy. She wanted to save it for him. Or maybe she wanted so save him, from it.

He tensed suddenly underneath her, eyes opening.

"Hey. Welcome back." Shepard pulled her hands back, suddenly unsure of what to do with them. She eventually settled for placing them at the juncture between his cowl and chest.

His eyes swept her face, blinking in confusion and then, casting downward in embarrassed realization. "I – um... Sorry. I guess I was dreaming."

"No need to apologize. I was just worried. It didn't sound like a fun dream, exactly."

His jaw clenched as she spoke and he turned his face away from her, staring resolutely at the cave wall with trembling mandibles.

She felt her heart sink as she watched him. She knew this feeling – the helpless horror that came after a nightmare. It hurt to see him suffering through it. "Garrus..." Her voice came out soft and throaty, surprising her with the emotion it carried. "Don't. I want to help." Her hands rose to cup his face and pull it back to hers, fingers freezing as they touched wet plate, lips parting slightly in surprise. She'd always wondered if turians could cry.

For a long moment, he lay stiff and unmoving, his fists clenched at his sides. Shepard wondered if she'd upset him further by touching him like this but as she began to pull away she felt his cheek follow her palm, pressing into the curve of her hand of its own accord.

"They were dying. All of them." He whispered, voice hitching. "And I couldn't– " his eyes squeezed shut, as if in pain, "–I couldn't..."

"Shh," she gentled, thumbs stroking his face plates once more. She leaned forward, placing her lips firmly against his forehead as she continued to speak. "It wasn't real." The hard body beneath her shuddered and a feeling of fierce protectiveness shot through her veins as she wrapped her arms tight as she could manage around Garrus' trembling form. "I'm here. I won't let anything happen."

– – – – –

"Shepard– " Garrus' voice muffled as he buried his face in her neck and he reached up, grasping lamely at her soft form for comfort. She felt so good. Warm and safe and a welcome distraction from the sick feeling that had knotted in his stomach as he slept. He felt her hands leave his face – though her lips maintained their pressure at his forehead – and pull his own to her waist, molding them around her. His large hands almost completely encircled her there, a reminder of her delicacy even as he felt the firm strength of her body in her legs, which still squeezed at his sides. For some reason, that detail broke him, and he shook with silent tears as he gave himself over entirely to her protection. She held him tighter as he sobbed into her, only pulling away from him to place a kiss against his scarred plate when his breathing was even once more.

– – – – –

Garrus awoke some time later, sprawled on his stomach and blinking in sleepy contentment at the warmth of the pillow beneath his head. He rubbed his cheek against the softness, a satisfied rumble escaping him. It smelled like her.

Shepard. Menae. Cave. He froze, awareness flooding him in a cold rush. The commander was spread out beside... and below him. His head rose and fell with her slow, steady breathing – the entire left side of his face pressed to her chest and the top of his fringe tucked tight beneath her chin. His right arm was slung across her body, hugging her torso to him as if she were a piece of bedding, rather than a battle-hardened Spectre. The smooth skin exposed by the low neckline of her clothing felt oddly damp beneath his cheek.

Shit! Was I drooling on her? After a moment of sheer panic, he realized that this particular wetness was a result of tears. His breath escaped in a grateful exhale. Crying all over one's commanding officer was about as much embarrassment as he could stomach for the moment.

"Garrus?" She spoke softly, though her voice was steady and alert. Clearly, she had not been asleep. The strong beat of her heart thumped against his aural ridge as her fingers began to trace out soothing patterns along the back of his neck.

"I'm awake." He shifted his weight off of her body as he propped himself up on a forearm, belatedly worrying if he'd been crushing her. She seemed to be no worse for the wear however, simply yawning and stretching languorously beneath the arm that still remained draped across her waist. Garrus could feel her curves through the thin fabrics of both their under-clothes as she settled back against him. Humans seemed to be somewhat firmer than asari – their flesh denser and less yielding. The discovery sent blood rushing to his cock in frantic pulses. He tried to appear nonchalant as he cleared his throat. "So... how long was I, uh..."

"Using me as a teddy bear?" One dark brow rose wickedly as she smiled up at him.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, growing somewhat alarmed at the mischievous look playing across Shepard's features. He prayed that she wasn't referring to some debauched human sex toy.

She laughed, her warm fingers dancing over his plate as she smoothed down the edge of his undersuit where it had rolled up at his shoulder. "You were only out for about ten minutes."

"Oh." He fidgeted nervously, mind racing as he tried to think of an explanation for the stunningly inappropriate things that had just happened between them and grimacing as he recalled the details. "Look, this... it won't happen again, Commander. I was out of line and–"

"Commander?" Her voice was incredulous. "Really? Come on Garrus, don't you remember that time we got stranded on Antibaar? I really don't think it's possible to spend three full days trapped in the Mako with someone and not come out of the experience feeling just a bit less formal around them. And then of course, there was the time I had to pull that varren fang out of your ass, all the times you had to medigel mine, and my own personal favorite, the time you got really drunk and tried to– "

"I swear, Jack said it was a human drinking tradition!"

She chuckled, clearly enjoying his discomfiture. "The point is, we've been through a lot together. So stop acting like you just pissed yourself in front of a general, and start acting like my best friend, who maybe just needed me for a sec."

He relaxed as her words sunk in, feeling both hollow and elated. Thankful as he was that he hadn't offended, or otherwise ruined his reputation in her eyes, a part of him was begging for her to catch on to just how much he'd enjoyed having her astride him. He shrugged the thought aside, determined to focus on the positives of the current situation. "Best friend, huh?" He made a show of laying back down, stretching out next to her and placing his hands one at a time behind his neck.

"Glad to see that the title hasn't gone straight to your head," she said dryly, chucking his crumpled blanket at his head before flopping down beside him under her own.

Their bodies just barely touched and Garrus shivered with pleasure at the slight contact.

She eyed him speculatively. "You cold?"

"Oh, uh... no. I'm good."

"Positive? I'm a heck of a lot warmer than that sad excuse for a blanket you've got over there."

"Heh. Well, if you're offering..." He swallowed his guilt as she scooted closer to him, feeling far less ashamed than he should have for pretending his desire to touch her was nothing more than practical intent to keep warm. They fumbled around momentarily, attempting to find a position that was suitable for both of them until Shepard finally pulled him back on top of her. He looked at her in surprise.

"What?"

"Isn't this uncomfortable for you?"

"Not at all." She waited patiently for him to settle his head back down against her chest before pulling their combined blankets over the both of them and wrapping her arms tight around his neck.

Garrus counted the beats of her heart as he lay there, allowing himself to relax a bit further into the give of her body with each solid thump. 100, 200... "Shepard?"

"Hmm," she murmured, already half asleep.

"Thank you."

He was rewarded with a warm squeeze and a drowsily uncoordinated brush of what he suspected were lips against the top of his fringe.

"Don't mention it."