This one-shot takes place after all three games. Shep is still on the Normandy because that is home to her, now. This fic is based on the idea of the Indoctrination Theory and Shep broke the indoctrination, destroyed the Reapers and all is right with the Universe. I'm not very good at ME writing or sci-fi in general so some things may not be perfect. I hope you enjoy it anyway, please let me know what you think!
Dax Shepard tucked a strand of gray-streaked blonde hair behind her ear and sighed. She pulled her shoulders back and stared at the reflection in the mirror. A jagged scar trailed down her cheek in a wickedly crooked line. She grabbed the brush from the sink and ran it quickly through her tangled locks. She held it up in a high ponytail and frowned. She tried a low bun but didn't like the way it made her cheeks look sunken. Finally, she decided to leave it down. She lined her eyes with brown eyeliner to make her forest green eyes stand out.
She heard a knock on her door and flinched as she jabbed the pencil into her eye. "Shit," she hissed, eyes watering and smearing the make-up. "Shit, shit, shit!" She grabbed the box of wipes to remove the runny lines and rubbed vigorously. "Just a second," she called out.
She adjusted the short leather dress and took one last look in the mirror at her slightly disheveled appearance. Groaning loudly, she rushed to the door, feeling awkward. It had been years since she had worn a dress. Once, before the wars and years of sleepless nights had worn her down, she had moved easily in such garments. But after spending so much time in armour, covered in blood and sweat, she suddenly felt ungainly. Her muscles seemed to bulge in a distinctly unfeminine way. And she walked like she was constantly wearing combat boots.
She smoothed down the fabric, trying not to frown. It hadn't been her choice of clothing tonight, but Jack had insisted. Hell, even all those years ago, she wouldn't have chosen such a... form-fitting garment. But Jack said men loved leather, especially black leather. It wouldn't matter if they were human or turian; men were all the same.
Dax brushed her hair back from her face and opened the door. Her lips twisted up into a smile at the sight. Garrus was there, a bottle of brandy and a book in hand. His mandibles flapped in a way she had learned meant he was just as happy to see her as she was to see him. "Garrus," she breathed.
"Can I come in or are we going to stand in doorway all night," he asked, his deep voice teasing.
She blushed and stepped aside. There was a slight twinkle in his eyes. "You look beautiful, Dax," he said, causing her to blush a little deeper.
He walked into the room and set the book and wine on the table. She watched him move as he went to her bathroom to change out of his armour. He always said he didn't feel safe walking around the ship without it, but he felt safe with her so he waited until he was in her cabin before removing the bulky equipment.
Dax continued smiling as she poured them each a small glass of brandy. She looked at the book, fingers lightly brushing across the embossed leather cover. These days, books were written on data pads but Dax had always loved the smell and feel of the books of the past. "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar," she murmured, tracing the letters. A soft smile played on the edges of her lips. Poe had always been a favorite and this was one she hadn't read yet.
Garrus came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into his embrace, the comfort of his arms a warm and gentle thing. She nuzzled her nose across his mandible, loving the rough texture of his scars and scales.
She laid a quick kiss on the side of his face and gently pulled away to hand him his drink. Her fingers brushed his as he took the cup and a shiver ran down her spine at the contact. Even after all these years together, he never failed make her heart pound louder than a war drum.
Leaning back against the table, she took a long sip of brandy. "I see you brought a book with you?" she inquired.
His mandibles flapped and he nodded his head. She smiled wide in return and scampered over to the large, plush chair in the corner of her room. She patted the spot next to her and Garrus chuckled. He grabbed the book and slowly made his way to her.
She snuggled deep into the chain next to him, curled up like a cat. She wiggled into the cushions and put her head against his chest. "Of course I shall not pretend to consider it any matter for wonder, that the extraordinary case of M. Valdemar has excited discussion. It would have been a miracle had it not - especially under the circumstances," he began, his voice a deep rumble against her ear.
She soon lost herself in the sound of Garrus's voice. All the stress of being Commander Shepard, always on duty, melted away. The demands of having fought and bled in the wars for so long, the emotional trauma she had seen and been through, it all disappeared as she listened to the gentle hum of her lover's voice. The constant tension that had set itself into shoulder slowly began to fade away and her eyelids felt heavy.
"By this time his pulse was imperceptible and his breathing was stertorous, and at intervals of half a minute," he continued, turning the page. He cast a glance down at the woman in his arms and noticed her eyes were closed and her breathing was at a steady, even pace. He smiled to himself. Stress had taken it's toll on his Shepard and he had grown increasingly concerned about her after the Reaper war had ended.
Dr. Chakwas had told him she was suffering from what humans called PTSD. She had trouble sleeping and when she did, she'd wake up from terrible nightmares that she refused to talk about. Her hands would shake in fear whenever she heard sudden loud noises. Sometimes she'd be holding a cup or a fork or something everyday and her hands would tremble.
Garrus gently disentangled himself from her and then bent down to pick her up. Cradling her gently in his arms, he brought her over to her bed. He brought the thick blanket over her body. He made to stand up, to leave, when her hand darted out to grab his wrist. "Dax, I thought you were sleeping," he murmured.
Shepard opened one eye sleepily. "I am sleeping. Stay with tonight," she whispered. "I don't want to sleep alone."
Garrus felt his heart flutter at her words. Gently, he climbed under the covers and into the bed. Shepard sighed happily and snuggled in as close as she could, wrapping her arms around his thin frame and laying her head on his chest. Garrus leaned his head against the feather pillow and put his arms around his girl.
"There. Now I can really sleep," Dax mumbled groggily. It wasn't long before a deep snoring sound came from her and Garrus let himself breath a sigh of relief. She was going to sleep after all. He had been worried for a moment that she would spend another night tossing and turning instead of getting a good night's rest.
He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter and closed his eyes. This was his favorite way to sleep.