The main battery was vacant. A rare sight, or at least whenever Garrus was onboard. She'd come down there after Mars, after dropping Kaidan off on the Citadel for medical attention, and after telling Joker to plot a course towards Palaven. There'd been no part of Garrus left in those walls back then, he'd taken everything with him and scrubbed the computers clean even before the Alliance had started the retrofit of the former Cerberus vessel. Just the same, the space had been a comfort, one she needed with his and her planets burning, and that clean, metallic smell had been enough hope for her in the time of desperation. Maybe he would still be alive when they got to Menae.

He had been breathing as it turned out, looking authoritative and sharp in the flashy new armor he wore, and with him he'd brought all the minor touches to the main battery that made it lived in. A small crate of belongings, that bottle of wine he'd enticed her with, a few data pads and even pieces of scrap paper, the formerly blank terminal screens now reading not just of calibrations and statistics on the ship's best weapon, but of research into the family members of his that were missing. Shepard picked up a data pad, not meaning to pry but unable to satisfy that curiosity otherwise, and glanced over the gibberish. A technical person of his caliber, she was not. She replaced the belongings where they'd been so nothing was amiss, and with a deep breath of the new soft, musky scent of Garrus filling the walls, left the main battery behind.

Talk to the female, Mordin had said, and as Shepard passed by the lowered privacy screens of the med bay, she gave consideration to the idea. Back on Sur'Kesh she'd been rather abrupt with the krogan, treating her as though she was a bartering chip and little more. There was no lie to it, that's what the woman was, but perhaps, just perhaps, Shepard hadn't needed to be so blunt on the matter. Swallowing, she redirected her course and hung a left, looking to make right what she'd done wrong.

The doors opened, and where she'd been used to seeing Chakwas as the sole occupant, the medical bay was otherwise filled to the brim, the female krogan perched on her own bed, looking withdrawn but reserved, calm. Past her, just beyond the silhouette of her large frame, Mordin stood at the side of another bed, while a patient—mostly obscured—pulled on their tunic. Tunic? No, that wasn't a member of crew. It was Garrus.

Her brows knitted, craning her neck slightly, widening the course of her path to eye the goings on at the back of the room, but she was abruptly met by the startled gaze of not only Garrus, but Mordin as well.

"Commander—" The female krogan said quickly, and Shepard's eyes darted towards her on instinct alone, giving the other two half a breath to finish whatever they were doing in haste. Shepard nodded her head and made move to look back towards the others, but it was Mordin speaking the next time, just as fast and flighty as ever.

"Ah, yes. Shepard. Good to see you. Should speak with Eve."

Eve? On another day she might have questioned it, but her attention was otherwise pulled in multiple directions. Garrus made an attempt to slip on past the group of three, fastening his shirt at the side to tighten it to his slim waist. Shepard caught his arm, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

"Everything okay?" She asked—no, demanded.

He blinked and hesitated, a nervous apprehension she spotted in the movements of his plates, and just nodded, mandibles flaring. "Of course."

Not a bone in her body, organic or synthetic, believed his words, but it wasn't the time or the place to be picking a fight and laying down the Commander voice on the person who was, in many unspoken ways, her lover. She let him go instead, her fingers lingering on the back of his wrist, a silent and subtle brush of affection, and Garrus' previously bewildered expression softened. He left, and much to Shepard's dismay, Mordin had already moved on, back to one of the work stations, gazing down into a microscope.

Talk to Eve. She nearly grumbled aloud, perturbed at all but being locked into the conversation now, standing only a foot or two from the female. Shepard gritted her teeth, and then turned back towards Eve, replacing the grimace with a forced smile.

The conversation wasn't as bad as she'd imagined it to be, as it turned out not all krogan tended to be savages. Wrex had done his part in proving that myth wrong, but she'd always seen him as something of an anomaly alongside Grunt, but with Eve as well… maybe there was more to it. She didn't let it show, but somewhere deep in Shepard's core, she felt a pang of sadness for the woman as she spoke of the loss of her children, the suffering she'd done because of Maelon's research, but how it would all be worth it in the end. Brave, Shepard thought. She was brave.

She bid goodbye to Eve, and though Mordin looked worn and occupied, she stopped to interrupt whatever delicate procedure he was in the middle of. She leant her hip into the cabinetry, crossed her arms over her chest.

"How's that cure going?"

"Edge of breakthrough. Maelon's data helping. Wise to save it, Shepard."

A mental pat on the back for herself, then. She'd been unsure of her decision back then, had thought maybe destroying the data was merciful given the states of all levels of decay the volunteers had been in who had suffered for that information. But as necessary as the genophage cure was, it wasn't what was on her mind. She was silent, biding her time, and just as Mordin turned back towards his work, she let it out.

"Why don't you tell me what's really going on with Garrus." Just as before, it wasn't a question, not really.

The salarian didn't look away from his research this time, a strategic move as he scrolled through something on a data pad. "Doctor patient privilege."

Her lips pursed, tapping a toe impatiently on the flooring. "Never used that excuse on me before, Mordin."

"Also never asked."

Okay, so maybe that was true. Sure, she was always kept abreast on the details of people's healing wounds, just enough information to know if they were available for a specific mission or not. Hell, she'd never even glanced over the medical supply requisitions when they came across her desk. Shepard had always simply made her mark, trusting those who made the lists of needed supplies and frankly, a little too busy to really care where Cerberus' money went. Not that Miranda wouldn't have just gone over her head anyway if she hadn't agreed to it.

"As the Commander of this ship," she started, standing straighter in a posture befitting someone of her status, "it's my right to know if something's wrong with one of my crew. I can't be bringing someone out with me, if—" The speech wasn't prepared, but it sure sounded like it.

"Not my place," he said with a shake of his head.

Her hands fell to her side, palm gripping the edge of the countertop as her knuckles went white out of frustration. "I can just have EDI give me the information, you know."

"Ah," Mordin said, and finally looked up to her, a glimmer to his eye. "Not if no records kept."

"I know you," she stirred, pacing. "You're a scientist, part of that is writing shit down. I don't think you even ever ate dinner without making a record of calories consumed, Mordin. So cut the crap, and tell me what's going on."

"Not asking as Commander," he lifted and canted his head just enough to offer her a sidelong glance, "asking as something more. Because of that… not my place."

"Is this important?" Shepard asked, changing the subject as she motioned towards the half-full well plate between them on the countertop, micropipette laid out across the dish's edge. "Like, 'holds the cure for the genophage' kind of important?" An eyebrow raised.

"That?" Mordin chuckled, shaking his head. "No, was working while clearing head. More efficient gelatin based alcohol delivery sys—"

Before he could get another word out, she swiped her hand across the cabinet's surface, sending the droplets of viscous liquid and the well plate towards the floor. Mordin reacted just as she wanted, scrambling to catch it before all was lost from even his insignificant project, and as he did—pointless, she knew, as the slurry of mixtures rained down on the med bay floor—Shepard reached around him for the data pad he'd carried over from where he'd been conversing with Garrus.

"Woops," she feigned, tucking her newly procured item behind her back, a single hand raised in display of her mistake. "Best clean that up. Tell you what," Shepard backed away towards the exit, door opening as she neared, "I'll send a crewman to help."

Mordin chattered to himself, ignoring her as he mourned the real death of one of his experiments, and Shepard took the opportunity to slip out the door. They shut behind her and in the next breath Shepard pulled the data pad to her chest, crossing her arms over it as she hugged it close, breathing out a sigh of relief.

She ventured a glance back towards the main battery, the place she'd presumed Garrus had retreated to after their brief passing. No doubt he'd play it off cool, head bowed down to his console and refusing to meet her eyes, instead talking a big game about work to be done and ushering her off to leave him in peace. When he felt the fires to be calmed, he'd show his face to her again, setting the interaction behind them.

Shepard squeezed the data pad a little tighter and though her feet begged her to seek him out, even if only to be rebuffed, Shepard stood silently still. When she did finally put her body into motion, it wasn't towards him, but instead back towards the elevator. Never did she like walking into a situation blind, and if he wasn't going to tell her without a fight, then she would do as she'd always done: find out for herself.