A/N: Hi all! Found some old ME stuff on my hard drive and thought I'd put it out there. This is just a small collection of one-shots/drabbles that I wrote to play around with perspective and voice.

Just some random situations concerning my favorite pair, FemShep and Garrus, seen through the eyes of their friends, early in their relationship. In my personal game canon, Andrea Shepard (paragon, vanguard) had no romance in ME1, because even though she didn't know it herself, she was saving herself for Garrus. ;)

Mostly ME1, some early ME2. These aren't in consecutive order! If you guys like them, I'll put out some more, these were the most reader-ready. I've taken a few liberties with the in-game scenes.

Miranda

Three weeks.

Andrea Shepard had been technically awake for three weeks, a miracle of my own making, yet I could tell she wasn't herself. Not the Commander Shepard the Alliance and the Council had memorialized two years before. They had left her for dead, and from my observations, they weren't far wrong.

As we worked our way through the alleys of Omega, I wondered if I had failed, if the Lazarus Project was only half complete. I could never report that to the Illusive Man. No, he had to believe Shepard was whole, perfectly returned to her pre-death state. But when I looked at Shepard, when I truly watched her, I saw nothing behind her eyes, and it frightened me.

Of course Shepard was alive, the blood flowing and heart beating thanks to my work, but she walked as if slightly dazed, emotionless, seemingly alert but lost in whatever memories gripped her. Did she dream of the Prothean images burned into her mind by the beacon on Eden Prime? Perhaps it was a more recent haunting; one didn't die and become reborn without the experience leaving indelible scars on the psyche.

I supposed I should be a bit more understanding, after all, her combat abilities seemed perfectly intact. In fact, the cybernetics we implanted seemed to have sharpened her, increasing her effectiveness in battle. And her ability to charm even the most cynical mercenary leaders remained unmatched. It was in evidence here as I watched her wrest information about this vigilante out of the crusty old merc mechanic working on a gunship near the insertion point.

It truly amazed me how Shepard could get people to talk to her, telling her their problems, the details of a mission, even information that should have been classified. It was an ability I didn't have, and frankly, I was a bit jealous. Despite the psychological issues I suspected she harbored, I began to see how building this team might actually work. Even as an emotional wreck, she was unbelievably charismatic.

The merc mechanic's comm link buzzed, informing us that the insertion team was in position. We had already hacked the Eclipse mechs, but I could see no way to disable this gunship so it wouldn't hinder us later, and we were out of time.

"You're working too hard," Shepard said as the mechanic turned toward the aircraft. I watched in shock as she casually picked up a wicked looking tool and stabbed him in the back.

"Well," Jacob coughed, "that's one way to take care of that gunship."

That sort of thing was definitely not a part of Shepard's behavioral profile, and might bear some watching. "We should get moving," I added, eying Shepard warily.

Just as we were about to step out of cover and onto the bridge, one of the other freelancers fell at our feet, a bullet hole perfectly placed between his eyes.

"Wow, what a shot!" Jacob exclaimed. "That bridge is at least 300 meters long. This Archangel is good! Now I see how he's lasted so long on his...Commander?"

Shepard was kneeling over the freelancer's body, staring at the wound made by a high-caliber sniper rifle. She ignored Jacob as she reached forward and touched the hole, and if it wasn't completely crazy, I would have said she did it reverently, as if touching an ancient relic. After several seconds, Shepard jumped up and grabbed my arms, startling me.

"Come on, Miranda! We have to go NOW." For the first time in three weeks, I saw emotion in Shepard. She was actually smiling. A genuine, true smile that reached her eyes, which were bright with unshed tears.

"Shepard, what..." I trailed off, disbelieving.

She laughed as she threw me aside and started across the bridge, tossing mercs out of the way with her biotics. I had to run to keep up, she was moving so fast. "Shepard, wait!" I yelled, afraid of her recklessness.

She glanced up at the sniper on the balcony above us, then back over her shoulder at Jacob and me. "Come on," she grinned. "I only know one turian in this whole god-forsaken galaxy who can make a shot like that!"

Three weeks. It had taken three weeks for the Lazarus project to be truly complete once Shepard awoke. As much as I hated to admit, it wasn't my work that completed it, either. That honor belonged to this turian vigilante, Shepard's best friend, and if I were one to wax poetic, I might call him her Archangel.