Author's Note: It's been a really, really long time since I've written anything at all, and it's been even longer since I had the desire to write any sort of fanfiction. I've been reading a lot of Shakarian lately, and one thing I don't see much are non-smut fics with renegade Shepard and Garrus (not that I have a problem with smut). Even though I personally prefer more of a paragon Shepard, I had some thoughts floating around that I decided to get out, and this happened. I'm sure there will be more after this chapter. This is basically Shepard's POV, very little dialogue. I'm sure later entries will have more dialogue, but for now this is how I wanted to start. There's nothing explicit or descriptive, but rated M because there are/will be in the future adult themes.
The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. And even when she had a chance to take them back, to pretend she'd been talking about something else, she didn't.
Now Garrus Vakarian was standing in front of her, stammering something about how he'd be willing to try. What the hell had she done? Sure, Garrus was easy to talk to. Or, more accurately, she supposed, he was one of the very few on the ship who she could tolerate. Maybe it was because he didn't bore her with stories and problems like the rest of the crew. Instead, he chose to focus on his work- his endless calibrations- consistently blowing her off when she did her rounds each evening cycle.
The commander had to pretend to give a damn about her crew, after all. She'd even went as far as granting them each one personal mission to square away whatever crap was bothering them in their personal lives. She wanted them focused, and with all of the insignificant nonsense that had their attention, they weren't. So she played the part, taking time away from shit that actually mattered to babysit while they took care of their problems. She was just glad to put all of that behind her so they could finally focus on the real mission.
She hadn't really minded helping Garrus out, though. His personal mission was short and to the point. Revenge. She could respect that. And she could definitely appreciate the way he'd handled it: cold, ruthless, methodical. That no-nonsense attitude was exactly how she would have approached it herself, and she'd respected the hell out of it. Though if she'd been running the show, Harkin wouldn't have walked (or rather, limped) away from the encounter.
After the mission, she'd headed down to the main battery for a debrief, and that's what had gotten her into this mess. Garrus had seemed to be in a better mood than she'd seen since he had joined the crew of the new Normandy, and for once he'd left the gun alone long enough for a chat. That was how the current discussion about "reach" and "flexibility" had come about.
Commander Shepard didn't really have any interest in being with him. Or any other alien, for that matter. The thought of it was, to be honest, rather repulsive, and she tried not to focus on it too much as she left the main battery and a confused Garrus behind her. She could always turn him down later, explain that it had just been a joke. Hell, with how awkward he'd been about it, he would probably be relieved.
She felt flustered, an unfamiliar feeling for the woman who was always in control. Rather than finishing her daily trip around the Normandy, Shepard skipped Miranda's office and the floor below entirely. She boarded the elevator and selected the option that would take her up to her quarters. Realizing she was more tired than she'd originally thought, she passed the shower and went straight to her bed, the only light in the room coming from the soft glow of her orange cybernetics against the pillow.
Just as she was settling in and dozing off, an unwelcome voice chimed in over her speakers. "Commander," it demanded.
That damn AI. She hated it, hated that Cerberus had integrated it so thoroughly into her ship. It was nosy and intrusive, unlike the VI from the previous Normandy. Shepard had to admit it was useful on occasion, but that didn't stop her from being furious that it was interrupting the sleep she desperately needed.
"What is it, EDI?" Shepard asked sharply.
"The crew has expressed some concern that you did not complete your walk through the ship. Dr. Chakwas requested that I remind you that if you have any health concerns, the med bay is only two floors down." EDI paused for a moment before continuing, "though I am not sure what led her to believe that you have forgotten its location. I informed her that all health factors my system can detect are functioning normally."
"Then why the hell are you bothering me? Can't your system detect that I'm trying to fall asleep?" she snapped.
"My system indicated that that may be the case," EDI admitted. "However, I located information you may find useful. I have forwarded it to your personal terminal. Logging you out, Shepard."
She groaned and paused a moment before rolling out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she stood up. "This better be good," she mumbled to herself.
The terminal came to life instantly under her fingertips, illuminating the room. Shepard blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden change in brightness. For everything Cerberus had done right when bringing her back, she couldn't stand her eyes. They'd only gotten worse as the mission pressed on, her glowing pupils sensitive in too much light, almost to the point of becoming a liability. Maybe she'd have to invest in that med bay upgrade after all. What a waste of resources.
When she was finally able to focus on the screen, she found that it was full of vid thumbnails depicting nothing but turian/human pornography, presumably something that EDI had "located" in Joker's files. Shepard scowled and turned the thing off, returning to her bed. Yeah, it was time to figure out how to get the ship's AI out of her personal business.
After EDI's interruption, Shepard found herself restless and unable to fall back asleep. She told herself that it wasn't curiosity about the vids the AI sent, that she wasn't dying to know how the turian-human mechanics actually worked. And if she did want to know, it wasn't genuine interest, and it was certainly not genuine interest in attempting it herself. It was just... curiosity.
Okay, so maybe that was why she couldn't sleep.
Shepard rolled out of bed, tying her hair up in a lazy ponytail. She was sure she wasn't going to be awake too much longer. She wasn't often one for pornography- not even the human-on-human kind. She much preferred engaging in the real act, and her thoughts were usually enough to help her get by when that wasn't an option. Still, she turned on the first vid, her curiosity getting the best of her.
The vids were interesting, to say the least. Though the content varied greatly, the one thing Shepard was able to determine for certain was that sex with a turian seemed extremely painful. It was hard to tell what was exaggerated simply through the nature of pornography; she assumed that anyone who would actively desire watching something like this would really be looking for something painful and degrading. There had to be something really fucking wrong with someone to want something like this, she figured. But the way the turians in the vids moved was almost frightening, so fast and violent, and she was ashamed to admit that it thrilled her.
She found her mind wandering to thoughts of Garrus and whether he could move like that, and soon found that her hand was wandering as well.