A/N: This is my first ME fic, and I haven't even started ME3 yet, so please, no spoilers! :)

Repercussions

"Commander Shepard has requested you to join her at the main airlock."

Garrus narrowed his eyes at the piece of machinery. He contemplated hitting his wrench against the blasted panel, but that hadn't worked the first four times, and he doubted a new outcome now. So he glared at it, as if his determined "I will fix you," stare would actually mean something.

"Tell her I'm busy," he called.

EDI sighed. He wondered when she'd started picking up sentient emotions, but then decided he'd rather not know. (Probably Joker, and he really didn't want to think about what the Normandy's pilot was doing with the ship's AI.)

"Commander Shepard's reply is, and I quote, 'You'd better get your ass up here, Vakarian, or so help me I will lock you in that battery.'"

Garrus glanced at the broken panel and decided a short break may be just what he needed.

"All right, all right. Tell her I'm coming," he said, pushing out from underneath the gun.

EDI was glowing on her panel near the door, and she sounded pleased as she said, "Of course, Garrus. Logging you out." She disappeared, and he was alone again.

Well, as alone as one could get with an AI controlling certain aspects of your ship.

He rolled his shoulders to loosen the kinks—three hours underneath that gun had not been kind to him. Honestly, a field mission would probably do him good right now. He didn't even know what planet they were orbiting, but he would bet his left mandible Shepard had found another distress beacon.

He was secretly convinced she would discover every distress beacon in the galaxy, given enough time. She really loved mining for ore on those desolate outer planets. (Well, she said that, but she always smirked at him, and he knew she thought the ore was just a nice bonus.)

He shrugged into his armor, running his talons over the dents from their last battle. There was a particularly nasty scar on his side, a burn that scored nearly halfway through the plating. If he hadn't dodged left, it would have gone straight through and he wouldn't be around to contemplate it.

A warrior was only as good as his armor, and he'd really meant to patch that before the next field mission. A smart soldier would tell his commanding officer to take someone better equipped. He couldn't watch Shepard's back if he were dead.

But the idea of sending Shepard out without him made his skin crawl. There was just one other person on this ship he trusted to help Shepard, and she was busy retrofitting the engine right now.

So he clamped his armor tight and hoped they wouldn't see much action on whatever isolated planet they'd found. But hope would last him about as long as damaged armor, so he grabbed his sniper rifle just in case.

He was on the elevator heading to the CIC deck when he realized he'd made a mistake. "EDI, adjust course for the Hangar."

"Commander Shepard is waiting for you near the main airlock," EDI replied, illuminating on the panel centered across the back wall of the elevator.

Garrus turned to face her, folding his arms. They were still going up, but he was sure that was wrong. "We always take the Kodiak on field missions. Where are we right now?"

"We are currently docked in Nos Astra."

"On Illium?" Garrus said as the elevator doors slid open. EDI had already disappeared, however. He muttered under his breath about vagrant AIs and stepped from the elevator. Kelly waved at him as he passed. He managed a halfhearted wave back, but didn't break stride.

Sure enough, Shepard was waiting exactly where EDI said. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were narrowed. He snapped to attention when he was close enough, because that expression was never good.

"Commander," he said. "You called?"

"Twenty minutes ago," she replied. He listened to the tone of her human voice. It was hard to tell without subharmonics, but he was nearly positive he detected irritation. "What, did you get lost riding the elevator up one floor?"

He shifted, readjusting his armor. "I was in the middle of—"

"So help me, Garrus, if you say 'recalibration,' I will slap you so hard you'll have a duplicate scar on your left cheek."

He clamped his mouth shut, mandibles pulled tight against his face.

Shepard laughed, breaking the tension with one easygoing gesture. "I'm just messing with you, Vakarian. Why are you all dressed up? We're heading out for a drink."

"You didn't exactly specify," he said, but he did notice she wasn't clad in her usual armor. Instead, a casual Alliance sweatshirt and jeans were the wear of the day. Hell, she didn't even have a gun.

She was looking at the sniper rifle in his hands. "You probably won't need that either."

"How certain is 'probably'?"

She shrugged. "Eighty-two percent. Maybe more."

He secured the rifle on the holster at his back and folded his arms. If she wasn't bringing a weapon, that just made him want to carry an arsenal. Especially without her usual protection of shields and armor.

But he wouldn't dare say that to her. So he waited, and she chuckled and cupped her hands to her mouth. "Joker, you've got the ship. Don't piss EDI off too much while we're gone!"

"I'll try, Commander, but no promises," their pilot yelled in response.

Shepard rolled her eyes and pressed the airlock button, and they stepped into the equalizing chamber. A moment later, that door opened as well and the familiar heat of Illium washed over them. Garrus shifted, reminded too much of Palaven, but Shepard didn't seem fazed. She just led him away from the Normandy.

They walked through the trade center, with Volus and Asari shouting at screens to buy or sell. It was dark, well into the night on this planet, but no one seemed fazed. Garrus vaguely wondered when the citizens here slept.

"A drink, you said?" he remarked after a few minutes of walking in silence. "Eternity is left, I think."

"I know," Shepard replied. She had her hands in the shared pocket on the front of her sweatshirt. Really, she seemed the picture of ease. It only made him stiffen in response, alert enough for the both of them.

She noticed, of course. She slapped his arm, and he looked down at her in surprise. "Lighten up, Vakarian. No one's going to rush us in the middle of the city."

"You don't know that," he replied. If there was a rough edge to his subharmonics, well, he just hoped she didn't hear.

She didn't comment, but she did look a little sad. He wasn't an expert at human expressions, but he liked to think he could decipher hers and he hated that he'd put this one on her face. So he forcibly relaxed, kept his hands by the scoring on his stomach instead of hovering near the rifle on his back.

That didn't seem to comfort her either. She sighed a little and kept walking, down a long, blue hallway that led to the security sector. She veered left with the confidence of a local, stopping in front of a nondescript elevator.

The entire thing had him on edge. Where, exactly, was this bar? How could she be so confident that they wouldn't encounter trouble? Her biotics would only go so far, after all. She needed a gun. Armor. Shields.

His mandibles pressed close to his face, and he stared straight ahead as the elevator doors closed. They started going down, deep into the belly of the city. Shepard hummed softly, a tune he recognized but couldn't identify.

The elevator doors opened and he tensed, hand twitching for his gun. She glared at him and said, "Oh, for God's sake, Garrus." Then she left him behind, walking swiftly to the end of the empty hallway.

There was a single door, unlabeled, and she knocked twice. Then she folded her hands behind her back, a decisively militaristic gesture, standing at attention as a camera on the wall scanned them both.

"You were told to come unarmed," a voice intoned.

Garrus flinched. Where the hell were they?

She shrugged. "I am, as you can see. My companion here is a bit protective. But he's the one who needs your expertise, so if you don't let him in, we'll be leaving."

The camera swiveled in his direction, and he glared at it. What was so important that she'd been willing to leave everything on the Normandy? Where ever they were, Shepard was clearly ready to walk away if the person on the other side didn't cooperate.

He wished they could just walk away, right back to the ship. He didn't trust Nos Astra any more than he trusted Omega.

"Shepard," he said, but at that moment the door clicked open. She flashed him a smile and stepped inside. Sweeping one last glance at the deserted hallway, he reluctantly followed.

Inside was a Quarian. Just one. It was obviously male, and he fidgeted under Garrus's unrelenting stare. Garrus felt a little better—he knew he could handle one little Quarian. He probably wouldn't even need his gun.

"Pleasure to see you again, Molo'Tolun," Shepard said with a warm smile.

Again?

"I don't—I do not approve of weapons," the Quarian, Molo, said, pointedly staring at Garrus's sniper rifle. "Too many deaths, too many firefights. No good comes of them. No good."

Shepard turned to fully face Garrus. "Are you satisfied I didn't walk us into an Eclipse hideout, Vakarian?"

"Marginally satisfied," he replied.

She smirked. "Good enough for me. Do me a favor and leave your weapons at the door? They make Molo nervous." Her gaze roamed over his armor, and she crossed her arms again. "Actually, strip your armor while you're at it."

"W-What?" he asked, balking.

But she'd already turned back to the Quarian and was ignoring him completely. She was wholly convinced he'd just... obey.

And of course he would. Shepard never ordered anything without a good reason. But it didn't make it any less embarrassing to strip down to his base layer in front of a strange Quarian.

Of course, when her eyes roamed over him appreciatively, it made him feel a little more confident. He added some of his usual swagger into his step, acting as if this was an every-day occurrence.

Molo, to his credit, didn't seem fazed. He motioned towards a pedestal and said, "Stand there, Turian, if—if you will."

Garrus glanced at Shepard, and she jerked her head towards the raised platform. With a lumbering sigh, he stepped onto it. If he didn't feel on display before, he sure did now.

Molo disappeared into a back room, and Garrus glanced at Shepard. "This is the strangest pre-drink ritual I've ever experienced," he said, deadpan.

She laughed. "Just wait."

So he did. And a second later, Molo returned with a few large boxes, balanced on a floating board that moved with a gentle push of his fingers. He stopped it right by the pedestal and said, "H-Hold out your arms."

Garrus rolled his eyes, but did as asked. What the hell, right?

Molo reached into the top box and produced two shells of armor. They clamped around his forearms and biceps, a perfect fit. Garrus stared at them in shock, but the Quarian wasn't done. He systematically attached armor to every inch of Garrus's body.

Brand new, shiny armor—in his favorite blue, no less. Thick ceramic plates coupled with breathable mesh layering, completely ensconced by a strong kinetic shield. It immediately synced with his omni-tool, and he let out a breath as the stats scrolled across his visor.

Molo clamped the last piece and stepped back, nodding once. "Sufficient, Commander?"

"It's perfect," she replied, strolling around Garrus, surveying every inch of him. "Have you added any upgrades?"

"Emergency shielding, of—of course," Molo replied. "The weave is the tightest you'll find. Not even... well, not even Devlon Industries will make something of this caliber."

"That's why I came to you, Molo. You're the best in the business."

The Quarian seemed to swell at the praise. "Thank you, Commander. Thank you."

Garrus was done admiring the armor—for now—and his eyes drifted to Shepard. "I don't understand," he said, slowly.

"You're getting new armor."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

That set her off. "Because your old set was shit, and nearly got you killed on our last mission," she snapped, and this time anguish definitely flashed across her eyes. She cleared her throat and turned back to Molo. "In fact, you can just throw away the set by the door. He won't need it anymore."

He frowned, watching her carefully. She was more upset about this than she'd let on.

But this clearly wasn't the time or place to talk about it.

Molo handed her a datapad, which she signed and gave back. He bowed slightly and thanked her again, and she motioned for Garrus to hop from the pedestal. He did so, and was again surprised at how easily he moved in this new armor.

He retrieved his rifle and didn't even glance at his old, damaged set. The new one had a holster for the gun as well—Shepard must have given that Quarian every damn spec she had for him to make this set so precise.

Gratitude filled him, but he waited until they were in the elevator to say something.

"Care to explain?" he said when the doors slid shut.

"You're no good to me dead, Vakarian. I need you equipped with the best."

"There's more to this story, Shepard, and you know it. Why am I the only one who gets an upgrade?"

"Maybe you're just the first."

"Before you, even?" he said, folding his arms.

Now she was the one staring determinedly at the elevator doors. He really missed her humming, he realized. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Look, it doesn't really matter why, I guess. But... thanks. This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me."

She gritted her teeth, which wasn't typically the response to gratitude. He watched her curiously, and she finally slammed the STOP button on the elevator. It eased to a halt, flashing red above the doors, bathing her in angry light as she whirled on him.

"You want to know why, Garrus? Because you insist on jumping in front of bullets, biotics, hell, even gunships if you think it'll protect me. And I don't know how to get you to stop, so the best damn thing I can do is put you in halfway-decent armor so you don't get yourself sliced in half next time."

He stared at her, mandibles flared wide in shock.

"Shepard, I—"

"Save it," she said, exhaling. "You think that's your job, and it's not. Ever since Omega, you've been so damn tense, so determined to save the galaxy that you've lost a bit of yourself. It's my burden to bear, Vakarian, not yours."

She held his gaze, a commanding officer berating her soldier. And he listened.

But honestly, he wasn't sure he could get that piece of himself back now. He was only truly at ease with her, joking in the main battery or "blowing off steam" in the Captain's Quarters. Anywhere else and he felt like he had to be on guard, watching her back, because if he didn't and something happened, he'd never forgive himself.

She rubbed her forehead. "It's not your fault, Garrus. It's just... it's who you are. And it's why I always, always take you on field missions. Not because of the life-threatening heroics, but because I know my team is safer with you on it. Not just me, either. All of us are safer with you around. And I appreciate that, I do. But it shouldn't come at such an expense."

Her fire was fading to embers now, and she seemed to be pleading with him. "So do me a favor. When I say lighten up, listen to me. I can't be the reason you've forgotten how to enjoy life."

He waited for a moment. Then he said, "Are you finished?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

He cut the distance between them, moving until they were nearly touching. He never once broke her gaze. "You, Shepard, are the reason I'm alive to enjoy anything at all. Don't ever think I've forgotten that."

She opened her mouth, but he pressed a single talon gently against her lips. "No. My turn. The only reason I'm reckless is because I'm terrified I'll cause a repeat of Omega and lose you too. I have to work harder, be better, because I lived through your death once and it's not something I can do again."

He lifted his talon off her lips. This time, she didn't try to speak.

"Commander, you are my reason for living, and I enjoy every damn second of it," he said, holding her gaze. He knew she'd picked up on his subharmonics, knew she was reading the truth in his words. Her grey eyes were bright in the red glow of the elevator.

He stepped back and folded his arms, signifying he was done. His new armor clanked softly in the silence between them.

Then she quirked a smile and said, "Well, Vakarian, don't get all mushy on me now. We haven't even started drinking yet."

"Sorry, Shepard. Sometimes I can't resist," he replied, deadpan.

She pressed the STOP button a second time and the elevator eased into motion. The red light promptly stopped flashing.

And she started to hum again.

A/N: I don't know when, exactly, this is set. Probably after the suicide mission, but that would put it solidly in ME3, which, again, I haven't played. So... pick a time and go with it. .