"Difficult" and "impossible" are cousins often mistaken for one another, with very little in common."

― Scott Lynch, Red Seas Under Red Skies

"What do you think?"

Garrus eyed the scope Shepard held out to him and plucked it from her hand. It took him not quite six seconds to see the fatal design flaw in the mounting joint. "I think we'll pass," he said, handing the scope back to the salarian shopkeeper. The salarian, professional enough to keep the disappointment on his face to no more than a fleeting look, began to add up the rest of Shepard's purchases.

Shepard watched the arms shopkeeper for a moment before turning to Garrus, an inquisitive look arching her dark brows. "Not a fan of the new Xion scope, Garrus?"

He shook his head, idly watching Shepard's dollar amount skyrocket. The Alliance did a nice job of padding Shepard's pockets now that she had been reinstated - she had no problems spending it, especially on her crew. Most of these purchases were for Vega and himself and he wasn't about to complain about the new rifle mods or other odds and ends Shepard had just picked up on the Alliance's tab. "It's crap," he said, smiling down at her and not missing the way the salarian flinched at his words. "Mounting rig wouldn't last more than a few shots before your scope would be in the dust and you'd be firing blind."

Shepard drummed her fingers on the counter. "That bad? I'm surprised Drego is putting out such bad equipment, with a war on and everything."

He traced a talon around the glass edge of the counter, the slight squeak making a few heads turn their way. "I'm surprised so many stores are carrying this shit. You might want to warn the other shops on the Citadel that this model is bad for business."

"Well, I know it's one we won't be using on the field," Shepard said easily, standing up straight as the salarian handed her the invoice and shipping manifest stating when her purchases would arrive at Normandy's docking bay later that day. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the steep discount on the invoice. "Excuse me," she said, motioning to the salarian who was edging away from the counter, "but I think my bill is wrong."

"Not wrong," the salarian said quickly, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips, "not wrong, C-Commander Shepard. Discount for all military personnel."

Shepard jabbed a finger at the percentage on the bill. "But that's much higher than the normal discount."

The salarian's eyes grew so big Garrus thought they'd pop out of his skull. "You're Commander Shepard," he repeated, his voice low. "Special discount for special personnel. No worries, your purchases will arrive at your ship safely." He leaned in close and whispered, "Please don't tell anyone else about the Xion scopes. They'll be gone, as soon as you leave."

She looked up slowly at him, giving him the full weight of her stare, and said evenly, "You're selling knockoff sniper scopes during a war. Do you know how dangerous that is? How many people have come in here because of your cheap prices and gone out with the intention to protect themselves and their families and are now dead because their scope fell off their gun? How many soldiers have died on the field because they bought a scope here? Want to take a guess on how many deaths are on your hands?" Her fist came down, hard, and the entire counter rattled. "Damn you. Damn you to hell and back."

The salarian let out a whimper and backed away from the counter, hands in front of him. "Please, Commander. Won't continue, will get rid of the goods."

Garrus took his cue then, stepping from his post behind Shepard's shoulder. "You'll do more than that, friend," he growled, grabbing the salarian by the collar and hauling him halfway across the counter. "Get rid of the scopes, and anything else you have that's counterfeit. You'll be giving us the names of your suppliers and wholesale buyers, anyone you've distributed these goods to. And in the next few hours you'll be getting an account number into which you better be putting a whole lot of money, including what we just paid you. It's going straight to the refugee and orphan fund that the Alliance has set up." And he dropped the salarian, who landed on his ass on the shop's slightly dusty floor.

"You have two hours, or I'm coming back with him and a krogan," Shepard spat as she grabbed papers from the counter and motioned to Garrus. The sound of scrabbling feet and frightened whimpers followed them out of the shop.

She waited until they were far away from the storefront before ducking into a darkened corner between an cafe and a general goods store and bursting into laughter. Garrus raised an eyebrow plate, stymied by the sight of Shepard leaning against a wall, one arm across her stomach and laughing after a side job like that. "Something funny, Shepard?"

She waved a hand in front of her, her laughter coming out in a rich melody that nearly startled him. It was not unexpected, since she had a low voice anyways, but he rarely heard her so amused. "The look on that salarian's face when you grabbed him!" she finally managed to say when her laughter broke. "Priceless, Garrus, just priceless. If I knew you had it in you to be my badass enforcer, I would have brought you on that smuggling job we ran for Aria on the SR-2."

"That's what Grunt was for," Garrus said. "I'm too precise and too stylish to be muscle."

"I think Grunt would take offense to that," she replied breezily, pulling herself away from the wall. "That new armor Wrex got him is pretty slick."

Garrus looked down at his own armor and grimaced. He really had been slacking off on the care lately. Too busy in the main battery with the Normandy's guns and fielding communications from Palaven to do much more than basic maintenance and repair to his armor lately. Shepard saw him look at his armor and smiled slightly, slinging an arm around his rib cage. "Come on, badass, let's go look at some new armor for you."

Garrus stopped mid-stride, pulling Shepard to a halt with him. "Shepard, that's not necessary."

She fished around in her pocket for a minute and pulled out a credit chit, flashing it in front of his face for a moment. "Garrus, what is this?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "Did you bump your head when I wasn't looking?

Her eyes narrowed. "Answer the question, Garrus."

His mandibles twitched as he tried not smile at her. "It's a credit chit."

"And what is it for?"

He couldn't resist. "In your case, spending loads of Alliance funds on stuff I'm not even sure what you're going to do with. And I'm the one who gets endlessly teased about calibrations."

That earned him a smack on the shoulder with said credit chit, which did nothing but make a pinging sound against his armor. She sighed, shifting her weight so she could lean closer to him. "Wrong answer, smartass."

"Is that an upward or downward trajectory for me? I'm not sure, since I just went from badass to smartass."

"Definitely downward."

He rubbed his neck and grinned. "Ouch."

"Yeah, you're in trouble big guy." She flashed the credit chit at him again. "This is for buying whatever my little heart pleases because the Alliance has put me in charge of this damn war. So if I think my sniper and best friend needs new armor, he's getting new armor."

"Shepard, I don't think-"

She slapped a hand over his mouth. "As your commanding officer, I officially do not care what you think from this moment until we get you outfitted with new armor. Your ass is on the line every time I take you out in the field. I can certainly make the Alliance pay to keep it safe." She pulled her hand away, her eyes dropping from his as her voice quieted. "We've had too many close calls lately and I don't want anything to happen to you, Garrus." And she turned on her heel and headed toward the armorer, clearly expecting him to follow by the look she shot him over her shoulder.

Well, damn, he thought as he sped up to catch her.

"Shepard, do not leave me here!"

Shepard struggled not to laugh as Garrus was set up by three of the most enthusiastic armorers she'd ever met, all of them tutting over Garrus' scarred armor as they pulled it from him piece by piece. "I think you're going to be a little while there, big guy," she said as she slowly backed out of the shop. "And besides, they're just taking measurements. This is custom armor, top shelf stuff. Everything has to be perfect for them to fit it to you." She waggled a finger in his direction. "You don't want an ill-fitting codpiece or cowl, do you?"

The glare he shot her as one of the asari assistants tried to peel down the neck of his bodysuit to get a better measurement broke her resolve. "Measurements don't involve nudity, Shepard!" he yelled as she fled as quickly as she could, shaking with laughter.

Shepard wiped her eyes with the back of a hand and looked around the Presidium. She could still hear faint strains of Garrus' protestations and she had to clamp down on the urge to save him from the poking and prodding of the armorers, but it was for his own good. New armor would not only keep him safe, but would make her feel better too. He'd been wearing the same armor since his Archangel days and while she understood why he kept it, it was time to retire that part of his past. Omega had changed him, that much was true. But he was still Garrus, just with a slightly bent edge.

She liked that bent edge, liked what it had done to his sense of humor, his shooting style, his combat tactics, even the way he carried himself. He was proud now, more knowledgeable, confident….even suave if she was to be honest with herself. Those who met him now thought he had a few ragged points to navigate around before you could really talk to him, but for Shepard, it was just another part of the man who was Garrus Vakarian. And she liked it all.

Shepard found herself wandering from store to store as she thought about Garrus and their relationship, not really walking into any particular one until an asari from a corner store called out to her. "Lotions, potions, everything you need for a romantic night in with your lover!"

Shepard snorted, waving the asari off. Because her top priority right now was a romantic evening with a nonexistent lover. She hadn't been to bed with anyone in years, unless you counted her right hand and even that seemed like a sad substitute of late.

At first she'd made her excuses - tracking Saren, her death, the Collectors and her distance from some of her former friends. She'd thought there might have been something with Thane, but even she wasn't that horrible of a person, getting involved with a dying man. Besides, he seemed to be content to become good friends, and even that had been hard. Seeing him at Huerta Memorial after visiting Kaidan hadn't done much for her flagging spirit.

And Garrus - well, there was him too. She probably could have started something with him, back on the SR-2, especially after that whole "stress relief" conversation they'd had, one that she was sure he'd forgotten. But this was Garrus and as much as she could imagine it, his limbs tangled around hers, talons snared in her hair, mandibles whispering against her skin, she wouldn't allow herself more than that.

It was a private thing, that fantasy. And it would remain that way.

"You must try this!" A voice rang out from behind her as Shepard's bare arm was grabbed and she was swung to the right. The grinning asari shopkeeper she'd waved off moments ago pulled her bodily into a small store, which smelled of incense and vanilla, and started shoving vials and bottles of various sizes and colors at Shepard.

"No, I don't think so," Shepard said as politely as possible as she backed slowly toward the door. "But thank you-"

"For your lover, perhaps?" The asari groped for Shepard's arm and, faster than Shepard could pull away, slathered on a thick lotion from her elbow to her wrist and began to rub it in. "He'll appreciate it, I'm sure. It heats to a few degrees above your body temperature and keeps its slickness for up to an hour, perfect for a full body massage and, you know, other things."

The scent of sandalwood and ginger hit Shepard's nose as the asari dug her fingers into the tight muscle of her forearm, working out the knots. Her traitorous body let the asari pull her closer as the woman's fingers danced higher on her arm, shoving the rolled sleeve of her off-duty uniform high on her bicep so she could work out the kinks there, too.

It felt so damn good Shepard almost let out a moan. The asari smiled knowingly and kept working. "I think you need this, don't you?"

Shepard's eyes flew open. When had she shut her eyes? "What? What do I need?"

"Well, besides this lotion, a good massage and some loving attention." The asari leaned even closer, slowly letting Shepard's arm drop. "You smell divine, there is no way your lover is going to be able to resist you now, if he couldn't before." She reached up and brushed the hair from Shepard's face. "Even the great Commander Shepard can't weather the weight of the galaxy alone. Surely you aren't alone….are you, Commander? I saw that handsome turian with you earlier, the way you were together."

Shepard turned dark green eyes on the too-close asari, searching her face. "Are you asking a question or making assumptions?"

"Merely curious about the woman the entire galaxy wants to know more about." The asari reached for her other arm and Shepard let her take it, watched her as she warmed the lotion between her hands and began working on the neglected muscles there. "So you and the turian-"

"Garrus."

"Garrus," the asari repeated, rolling the name in her mouth before letting it go, "are not together? Odd. I thought you were. You looked so comfortable, so familiar with each other."

"War does that to people," Shepard said quietly, leaning into the asari's touch. "You fight beside each other, share a few beers, swap stories and scars-"

"No," the asari said, abruptly letting go of Shepard and backing away from her. To Shepard, those few feet between them felt like miles and she was dizzy, like air had been stolen from her lungs. "No, a bond like the two of you have isn't forged just in the fires of war. It's more than that." She put a palm over her own heart and said quietly, "It's deeper than that, Commander. And it's time you acknowledged how you feel."

"I - I don't know what you're talking about," Shepard sputtered as her head reeled. "He's my friend. He's Garrus."

The asari drew her close one final time, so close Shepard could see the flecks of green in her blue eyes, before she said softly, "He should be more." And she pressed her lips to Shepard's forehead. "Go with the Goddess, Commander. And good luck."

Shepard found herself being guided out of the shop by the asari, the bottle of lotion tucked in her hands. And in her line of sight was Garrus, trotting toward her in his scarred but familiar armor with a grin on his face. "Shepard, you should see the armor they can put together in that shop-"

When Garrus saw Shepard's face as he approached, he came to a halt a few feet before her, his words dying on the air between them.. He took her in - the perplexed look on her face, the small bottle she was clutching to her chest, the slump of her shoulders. He twisted around, trying to see what catastrophe had her looking so grief-stricken when she nearly raised her eyes to his and said softly, "Garrus, you're here."

He put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Where else would I be?"

She did meet his eyes completely then and was struck by what she saw. All of him, every line and scar and good and bad moment those blue eyes have seen. But this is Garrus, and I can't just expect him to feel the same way, can I? No, I can't. "I just meant - oh, Garrus, I'm sorry, I don't know what I mean right now," she said, shifting the bottle to one hand so she could rub her eyes. "All those long nights at the war map must be catching up with me. Hell of an inopportune time, huh?"

Garrus, pulled up short by her sudden change in mood, simply said, "Okay, maybe we should head back to the ship so you can get some sleep. It might do you some good."

She shook her head. "I'll go, but don't feel like you need to come with. I'm sure there are other things you have to get done while we're at the Citadel and I don't want to keep you."

"Shepard," Garrus said, his voice lightly chastising, "you're not keeping me from anything. If I recall correctly, it was you who drug me down here in the first place." He put both hands on the neck of his armor and pulled slightly, grinning at her. "Besides, I just got myself outfitted with very nice, very expensive new armor courtesy of yourself and the Alliance. And it's going to be hand delivered in less than twenty four hours. I'm not complaining one bit." He nudged her shoulder with his own. "Let's get back to the Normandy. I admit, I could use some rest too."

Shepard's hand unconsciously gripped the bottle tighter as she nodded and let him steer her back toward the elevator. He didn't miss the death grip she had on that bottle, nor did the asari watching them escape his attention, and he fully intended on asking Shepard about it later. But right now, his friend needed some rest.

She was quiet on the way back to the docking bay, even during the torturous elevator ride. Standing that close to her, Garrus noticed that she smelled like leaves and earth and musk, a combination of scents that he found alluring, so much that he shifted closer to her. He figured it had something to do with the bottle she was gripping so fiercely, but said nothing.

When the elevator announced their arrival at the docking bay, Shepard didn't move but she felt Garrus' questioning gaze on her like a hot iron. The heat of him infiltrated the little space, blocking out her senses and all logical thought. The words of the asari swam back into memory and it made her remember all the missed chances, all the lonely nights. And then she felt him shift toward her, felt a hand on her shoulder, and only one thought crossed her mind.

Fuck it.

With a hand like lightning, she yanked his head down and pressed her mouth to his, feeling him start like he'd been hit. For one brief, cold moment, she thought he'd pull away and leave her alone in that elevator. But when she felt his hands wrap around her waist, the barest prick of talons biting through her shirt, she knew he wasn't going to do any such thing.

His tongue touched hers and she gasped. Garrus used that moment to yank her against him, forcing the bottle she'd been holding to drop to the floor. Neither of them noticed the clattering echo when it hit. All he knew was the feel and smell and taste of her and that it was better than anything he could have ever dreamed up.

Had it not been for the polite cough of a salarian waiting to board the elevator, Shepard would have been in favor of ripping their clothes off and taking him right there. Instead, she chose to drag Garrus bodily from the elevator, through the Normandy's docking port, and sidestepping the skeleton crew on the CIC so they could get to the ship's elevator and her cabin.

"Never knew you had a thing for elevators, Shepard," Garrus joked a little breathlessly as she pressed against him.

"Bet there's a few things you don't know about me."

"You're two for two," he shot back, feeling lightheaded as she ran nimble fingers down his neck. "But I think we have some things we need to talk about, don't you?"

The elevator pinged their arrival at her quarters and she quickly stepped off and unlocked her door. He followed her inside the dark room, not missing the way she grinned when she said, "Yeah, Garrus, we do."