A/N: This is a fill from the Mass Effect kink meme. The original prompt is available on page 11 of part XXIV, look for "Femshep/Garrus: Garrus Faked To Be Hypnotized by Shepard". This prompt was just too epic to leave alone so I decided to use it for my first steps in fanfiction. I'm a beginner here so advice and constructive criticism are very much welcome. ;)
Contrary to popular belief, Shepard has a very active and curious mind. She always comes across as brash, impulsive, peremptory, and generally relying on her gut. Not that those impressions were inaccurate, but few people realize that they only are some of the many facets her personality possesses. Whether it is due to her position as a commanding officer or the fact that she generally keeps people at arm's length, she never really knew. Probably a bit of both.
As a result, the people who actually know of her fascination about the wonders of the mind are either dead or extremely scarce. Not surprising considering what happened on Mindoir. The happy, exuberant child she used to be died that day, along with her friends and family and countless pieces of her heart. It left her with a deep-rooted fear of bonding and lose again, and shaped her into the secretive and vengeful woman she is now known as.
However, she never lost her craving for knowledge, and every time she finds something new to read about philosophy, psychology, history, sociology or even archaeology, she still feels that spark of light and warmth and inextinguishable thirst within her chest. Reading still keeps her sane, soothes her nerves, feeds her mind, and never fails to remind her what she's ultimately fighting for. And even as Earth is burning and free time has become a rare luxury, she still indulges in a little reading from time to time. She needs it, more than ever. It always feels like a life-saving breath of air after free diving for too long.
She always had a special kind of fascination for mysteries, for all the things that defy science and shake the limits of knowledge. It started when she had had her esoteric phase as a teen, but as she gradually moved to more serious sources and learnt more about science, she ended up discarding her silliest readings. Ghosts, really Jane?
And here she is, alone in her cabin, sat cross-legged on the couch, bent over a datapad and reading her last secret pleasure. She'd found that gem on the extranet two weeks ago, but never had a minute to enjoy it: a memoir on hypnosis written by a famous psychiatrist around the end of the 21st century. Hypnosis has always been a subject that sparked her interest, but serious readings on it are hard to come by. She researched it from time to time, but the humongous amount of pseudoscience and general bullcrap people tended to spew about it always ended up discouraging her. Until the day she found that file.
Serious and extensive bibliography, meticulous theories and honest admissions on what has yet to be explained or discovered, and an impressive collection of clinical cases in psychiatry, as well as other examples in the military and the entertainment industry. She's been so absorbed by it she hasn't even set foot outside of the Normandy since she'd docked on the Citadel for a well-deserved four days of shore leave and restocking. The description of the different techniques are so precise she can't help but want to try them, and the anecdo-
"Shepard?"
Dammit.
"Yes, EDI?"
"I apologize for interrupting but Garrus is now back on board."
Right. She asked her to be notified as soon as he came back. She just thought she would have some more time. Checking the time on her omni-tool, her irritation suddenly vanished. Four hours. She'd been reading for four full hours without even realizing it. So that's why her legs are numb and her neck is sore. And here she was planning on a little trip to the Presidium commons to check on that new armor she's been drooling over since Cortez told her it was released. Oh well.
"Thanks."
"Logging you out, Shepard."
She sends a quick message to Garrus to let him know his bottle of horosk is still in her cabin if he needs any. He probably does after spending the whole afternoon in the holding area of the docks. Dealing with the never-ending influx of refugees when your own family is missing tends to do that to you. There's a special brand of despair tainting the air down there, and you can only breathe so much of it before feeling parts of your soul crumbling. She tends to avoid the area as much as she can. She will never admit the reason out loud though. Even she has limits, and after all she's lived and done, she doesn't need any more reminders of how dire the situation is, nor the inevitable drain of energy she always feels in that place. But saying it out loud? No one needs that. Everyone needs her strong and unshakable. Not fair, but she learnt that hardly anything is fair in life when she was sixteen. She's learnt to accept it. Kind of.
He answers: "Hell yes. Gimme a minute." Heh. They've known each other for so long that it seems they can read each other's minds at times. It's more apparent in the field, where they barely have to communicate at all to cover each other's back, and even come up with strategies with a look and a subtle movement of the head. He's always been there from the very beginning of this surreal journey. He never let her down. Always supported her, however insufferable she can be sometimes. He's learnt to look past that and see more of her than she lets on, which still surprises her since he clearly bests her own species in that department. She bets C-Sec painfully misses him, however much of a wildcard he always was.
A bad Human and a bad Turian. No wonder they developed this kind of closeness. With time, their friendship and her trust in him became strong enough to crack her walls. Now he's one of the very few she shares her readings with. It terrifies her though, and she tries her best to hide it. As always.
A knock on her door, and it swishes open to reveal a tired Turian. He seems to have lost a few centimeters since this morning. Regardless, his eyes hold a familiar warmth and his mandibles flare in a smile when he spots her.
"Hey Shepard."
"Hey Garrus, you look like shit."
He chuckles.
"You sure know how to make a man feel special. Are you trying to make me blush?"
"Gotta try until it works. Here, sit down. I'll get the booze."
As she stands up and walks to the small closet she keeps her liquor in, he sits and lets a heavy sigh out. Soon, she's back with Garrus' horosk, some TM88 peruvian whiskey for herself, and two glasses she promptly fills.
"How's the situation down there? Could you get those surplus rations the fifth fleet messaged you about?" she asked, handing him his glass.
"It's getting worse, we're having a few cases of fever among the Batarian refugees no one knows the origin of. Medical staff is going nuts over it so it doesn't turn into a full outbreak. I have a bad feeling about it. Sanitary conditions are harder to maintain every day. And no, we haven't received the rations yet, but they're on their way. They had a close call while leaving Triginta Petra when reapers appeared out of nowhere. Had to take a detour and refuel, but they're alive and should arrive shortly."
He took a swig and sighed again. He seemed to do that a lot lately. He had heard about a Human legend according to which a bit of your Spirit, or whatever their equivalent is, escapes every time you sigh. He must have close to none left by now.
"Well, at least that last part looks like good news." She forces out a half smile and drinks. Smile, Jane. He needs you strong.
It always pains him when she does that though. Her moments of doubts are so obvious and she still feels the obligation to hide them from him even if she knows very well he's the last person she could fool. Even after all these years, he still feels like she inevitably slips out of his grasp every time she needs to not be alone the most. It frustrates him to no end. Sure, this war is hard on everyone, and it's taking its toll on him too. But at times like these, he wishes she would lean on him a little more. As it is, he feels even more useless. A part of him is disgusted that he'd like her to depend on him more for his own benefit. He feels selfish.
Another part of him he's been fighting hard to repress lately shows up once in a while and even more selfishly wants to know what it would feel like to hold her while she leans on him.
Not good. Time to change the subject and lighten the mood. Reach her with what he can. He takes her discarded datapad in his hand.
"Yeah. So, what's on that datapad? Your latest breath of air?"
"Yup!"
Her smile is genuine this time. He can see the excitement in her eyes. It must be good stuff. Ever since she shared her passion for Human sciences they've had discussions and debates on a regular basis. She would share her readings and he would discuss how they differed from Turian society. He knows how much it helps her, but if he's honest with himself it probably helps him just as much. Besides, it brings them even closer, which makes his chest swell with a welcome feeling of satisfaction amidst a war of pain, loss and anguish.
"What is it about this time?"
"I found that big ass memoir on hypnosis the other day. It's so awesome I forgot to move for the past four hours. Wanna read it?" She points at the datapad nonchalantly.
"Heh, no thanks. Too long for me. Care to summarize it for the lazy Turian?"
"Sure, it's the best work about hypnosis I've ever come across. It describes the different techniques in details and has a shitload of clinical cases. Extremely thorough."
He blinks.
"Hip... what?"
"Hypnosis. You guys don't have that?"
"I don't think we do, and my translator is having a field day with it, sending me pics of spirals and colorful patterns. Trippy. Now I'm intrigued." He says honestly.
He leans towards her, elbows on his knees. She now has a wolfish grin on her face. She knows he loves to hear about what he calls "bizarre Human practices" and this one sure is. Even to her. She always takes pleasure in explaining them to him, both because of the simple rewarding feeling of sharing and because she enjoys having his undivided attention.
"Oh you're going to like that one."