He found the model UT-47 Kodiak drop shuttle on a Tuesday.

Garrus stared at the obnoxiously-bright orange display. 4000 credits. Spirits, did Shepard spend that much on each one of her models? Cerberus must have paid her well over the last several months—not that those funds would likely be continuing, he thought smugly—but even if she had more money than sense (which she didn't), there was no way anyone in their right mind could justify purchasing a model ship worth four thousand credits.

Then again, she had spent thousands of credits on fish that she repeatedly killed. Maybe she really did have more money than sense. The thought was not comforting, considering that he took orders from her.

One talon hovered over the button that would send four thousand of his hard-earned credits down the drain. In an ordinary situation, he could never rationalize buying something so…inconsequential. The stupid thing didn't even light up, for crying out loud. Hell, for such an obscene amount of money, the thing should be able to fly around and shoot lasers.

The salarian behind the counter peered up at Garrus, looking uncomfortable. "Uh…can I help you decide on something, sir?"

"No, I've got it."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically, glancing from Garrus to the line that was no doubt forming behind him. Garrus could hear the impatient sigh from the asari who had been standing behind him for the past five minutes. The salarian swallowed and gestured to the purchasing terminal. "We have an online store, you know. You could always—"

"One more minute, all right?" Garrus snapped, eyes not leaving the small image of the model ship. "I promise."

The salarian clerk muttered something about not getting paid enough and retreated into the back storage room, leaving Garrus to deliberate in peace. The impatient asari huffed and stormed off to Citadel Souvenirs. Finally.

Deep down, he knew this decision wasn't difficult. He had plenty of money from Cerberus now that his contract with them was completed. If he suddenly lost his mind and bought fifty model ships, he would still have enough to buy a flat in Cipritine and get that new M-98 Widow rifle he'd had his eye on for the past few months. Money wasn't the issue.

Shepard was.

They still hadn't talked about it. That night in her cabin had been super weird and awkward and he was pretty sure he'd stabbed her with one of his elbow spurs at some point, but it had also been completely and utterly unforgettable—in the best sense of the word. She'd entrusted him with her personal comfort and vulnerabilities, and that was something Garrus had no intention of screwing up anytime soon. Afterwards, Garrus had been so distracted by the way she gracefully moved across the battlefield that he was lucky to have made it two feet into the Collector base without getting knocked on his ass.

Since returning through the Omega-4 relay, they'd both been tied up with their respective duties. Too busy to talk, to dredge up the what ifs that tormented him all hours of the day. Shepard filled out lengthy reports for whoever was reading them now (Hackett? The Council? Hell, he didn't know) and Garrus spent late nights in the shuttle bay with Tali and Legion, repairing the hull of the ship and assuring Joker that yes, his baby was definitely going to survive the relay jump back to the Citadel. Neither Garrus nor Shepard had gotten around to having the where-do-we-stand-now-that-we've-slept-together conversation.

He knew he should probably do more research on how to broach the subject with a human woman, but the research he'd done before hadn't helped him in the slightest. There was no reason to trust the extranet now. He had to figure this out for himself.

Spirits, what was he trying to figure out? He knew he wanted to keep doing…whatever it was they were doing. She was his best friend, his mentor, his role model. Talking to her was easier than breathing. Sure, she had a lot of secrets, but it wasn't his place to ask about them just yet. In the meantime, Garrus had all of her idiosyncrasies and weird human expressions down to a science: she would always pop the knuckle of her right index finger when she was coming up with a plan on the fly; when Shepard was angry, Garrus knew to pick up her coffee mug before her fluctuating biotics swept it off the table (the ship was always short on cups because she kept breaking them); she tended to run her fingers through her wild locks of dark hair when she was stressed—if she was extra stressed, she used both hands (and usually got her fingers horrendously knotted in the expanse of loose curls).

When she was happy, the corners of her eyes crinkled in a way he used to think was weird, but now he wished he saw more of it. She didn't smile nearly enough.

She also loved super-expensive model ships that clearly didn't shoot lasers or fly. It was total bullshit.

He was on the losing side of his own argument. He knew it. Garrus could almost picture Shepard's face lighting up with one of her rare, blinding smiles that used to catch him off-guard back in the early days on the SR-1. Still, he hesitated. Was it too presumptuous? Too early? He knew humans gave gifts to each other on certain holidays, but he wasn't sure about the protocol on gift-giving just for the hell of it. What if he somehow offended her?

Garrus wracked his brain. What was that thing Shepard always said? A rock and a hard place?

Steeling himself, Garrus pressed his finger against the spongy, well-used purchasing button and winced as the credit transfer went through. He was pretty sure he felt a portion of his soul die along with part of his wallet. Maybe he was just being dramatic. He probably was. Either way, the salarian clerk emerged from the back of the store with a small box under his arm, looking exhausted.

"Finally made a decision, huh?" he asked resignedly, sliding the box across the counter to Garrus, who eagerly snatched it up and started reading the description on the side. He heard the salarian mutter something else that his translator didn't quite catch, for which Garrus was grateful.

"Thanks," Garrus said, ignoring the comment and turning around and merging with the crowd of people making their way down the street. He wanted to give the model to Shepard before he lost his nerve. They'd been dry-docked for the past week, thanks to Joker's insistence on repairing the ship before dropping everyone off on their respective planets. Kasumi had disappeared the second they docked at the Citadel, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone besides Shepard, and Samara and Mordin had packed up and hopped on transports, explaining that they had certain things that had gone unattended for far too long. There were no teary goodbyes, luckily. Garrus knew Shepard hated those kinds of long, dramatic farewells.

The rest of the crew was holding out for the cheaper option of waiting for repairs to be completed so they could get dropped off by the Normandy. Thane planned on staying on the Citadel with his son, Kolyat. Tali wanted to go home to the Flotilla with Legion in tow, in hopes of reaching a tentative alliance with the geth (Legion didn't seem thrilled with the idea, but how thrilled can software possibly sound?). Grunt practically begged to stay with Shepard, claiming there was more he needed to learn from his battlemaster before going to Tuchanka. Shepard managed to talk him out of it, thankfully. The rest of the crew (Miranda, Jacob, Zaeed, and Jack) planned on tagging along with Shepard for the trip back to Earth in hopes of shacking up with the Alliance to prepare for the Reapers.

That left Garrus. He hadn't told anyone his plan—he hadn't made a decision in the first place.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he had three real options:

Option A: He could return to C-Sec and work a boring desk job until the Reapers showed up to kill everyone in the universe, which at that point, he probably wouldn't complain too much. Two years of doing whatever the hell he wanted had given Garrus a newfound hatred for paperwork.

Option B: He could return to Palaven and see his family for the first time in…well, Garrus didn't know how long he'd been gone at this point. Two and a half years? Three? Solana would hate him for not helping out with his mom, his dad would hate him for doing pretty much everything illegally for the last however-long-it-had-been, and his mom probably wouldn't remember who he was.

Option C: He could stick with Shepard and see what happened next.

When it came right down to it, Garrus knew he would stay with Shepard, even if they hadn't spent that night together in her cabin. She was the best thing for him. Shepard kept him grounded and made him think before he acted, and he kept her from doing stupid heroic crap like charging at a Harvester with nothing but her biotics and a half-loaded pistol. They worked well together; separately, not so much.

He wanted to stay on the Normandy. He hoped the model ship would help convince her.

Tucking the box underneath his arm, Garrus followed the flow of pedestrians toward the rapid transit terminal. He passed cuddly asari couples and a group of salarians who were arguing over whether or not the newest Blasto movie was better than the third one ("Impossible, the third installment won best picture!"). A pair of krogan were facing each other down by a neatly-trimmed topiary that was shaped like a hanar, narrowing their eyes at one another and grumbling about fish in the Presidium lakes—Shepard mentioned something about that a few weeks ago. Garrus decided to ask her about it later.

Slipping past a group of waddling volus, Garrus reached the rapid transit terminal. He keyed in his destination for the docking bay and bounced on his toes as he waited. He knew she wouldn't come back to the ship until later that evening, but he figured he could figure out what he was going to say to her while he waited.

"Garrus?" a familiar voice called out. "Is that you?"

Garrus turned to see Tali, waving him down from across the throng of moving people. She began to push her way over. Surreptitiously, Garrus turned the box underneath his arm so the label wasn't showing and made an effort to look casual.

"I thought that was you," Tali said, elbowing her way past an elcor who refused to budge. She peered up at him, eyes bright behind her violet faceplate.

"Well, there aren't many turians running around the Citadel with half-destroyed faces."

"Could have fooled me."

"Oh, har-dee-har. Leave the scathing remarks to the professionals, Tali."

"You're not the only one on the Normandy who can crack jokes, you know."

"I'm the only one who should be allowed, apparently. That comeback was terrible."

Tali's shoulders shook as she laughed. She punched him in the arm good-naturedly. "Bosh'tet. It wasn't that bad." She tilted her head to the side in question. "Where are you headed, anyway?"

"Nowhere in particular," he lied. "You?"

She gestured over her shoulder, shaking her head dejectedly. "I tried to get into this really nice dextro restaurant down the street, but they won't let me in without someone more socially acceptable. You know how they are about quarians."

"Saving the galaxy doesn't seem to count for much around here," he mused. "You could try threatening them."

"I don't think that would help my social standing, Garrus. Or my appetite."

"Blackmail is also an option."

"Not helping."

Garrus shrugged, leaning against a pillar. Subtly, he checked the terminal's display for a time estimate; it told him the skycar would be along in about five minutes, give or take. Distractedly, he told Tali, "You could ping Shepard and see if her Spectre status can get you in. That's about all it's good for these days, anyway."

Her silence was the first indicator that Garrus' day was about to get a lot worse.

With Shepard's track record, the entire crew of the Normandy had been forced to become experts on identifying the exact moment when a situation went to complete shit. Usually, it was easy to spot. He was used to Shepard's hey-guess-what-just-happened approach, which was usually a sign that she'd pissed someone off and now a bunch of people needed to be shot, or maybe a person needed saving on a remote planet out in the ass-end of nowhere. Either that or she'd sheared off the Mako's plating again, which always ended up giving him headaches for days. The moments weren't always so clearly stated, though. Sometimes, Shepard would sigh quietly or tell a particular joke that always meant his day was about to become more dangerous and annoying. Garrus and Tali were professionals at noticing these turning points and acting quickly.

Garrus wasn't sure what he noticed first: maybe it was Tali's stiffening shoulders, or her sharp intake of breath at his words. Either way, he instantly knew something was wrong. Things were about to get complicated.

Tali recoiled, looking from side to side as if she just now realized he was alone. "Shepard… isn't with you?"

Garrus frowned. He didn't need his visor to tell him that Tali's heartrate leapt with every single word. "No. She's with Joker, last I heard."

"I just saw Joker at Flux," she said, shaking her head slowly. "He said that Shepard was with you."

Garrus' stomach tightened and he felt his mandibles flare in poorly-disguised shock. If Shepard wasn't out with Joker, who was she with? She always made sure at least one person knew where she was at all times, just in case a situation arose. (The situations varied from mess hall scuffles to full-blown Reaper invasions, so she tried to maintain an open-door policy.) Garrus' mind began to race with millions of possibilities—none of them good.

His face didn't betray the anxiety that was settling in the pit of his stomach like a heavy stone. "Well, that's… interesting."

"The normal definition of interesting or our definition?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Maybe both?"

Tali opened up her omnitool and started typing rapidly. Her shoulders were stiff and she was swaying from side to side, obviously nervous for the same reason Garrus was. Without looking up, she asked, "You're sure you haven't seen her today?"

"I saw her in the armory this morning, but not after that." At the time, he considered asking her to accompany him on his errands around the Citadel, but decided against it. Now, he wished he had. "Dammit. She could be anywhere by now."

"I hope she's okay," Tali said nervously.

"She's Shepard," Garrus stated, as if that explained everything. "If she's actually in trouble, I feel bad for the other guy."

"Should we call someone?"

Garrus pulled up his omnitool and checked his messages for anything from Shepard or the rest of the crew. Aside from a purchase receipt for the ship model and an advertisement for turian fringe enhancement (which he tossed into the spam folder), there was nothing. Think, dammit. Think. "I don't know," he admitted, closing the display. "Shepard's always the one I call in these situations."

"Me, too. Keelah, I don't even know where to start."

"Maybe she just wanted to keep us off her tail for some reason. She might not be in trouble at all."

"Shepard wouldn't sneak around like that unless it was life or death, in which case she would have called you. Or me. Or anyone," she told him, eyes glued to her omnitool. "Has she ever lied to you before? To any of us?"

"No," Garrus said, shaking his head. His thoughts were going at a million miles an hour, trying to sort through this new information. "She's kept secrets, sure, but outright lying? That's not Shepard's style. "

"She has to be in trouble, then."

"No more than usual."

After what felt like hours, the rapid transit skycar finally arrived, setting down soundlessly on the nearby landing pad. Tali and Garrus had to keep themselves from sprinting on their way over to the waiting vehicle. "Docking bay D24, and get there fast," he snapped at the VI, just before closing the door behind them both. Garrus tossed the model ship into the backseat—he decided he would give it to her later, provided there was a later. As the skycar lifted off, both of them opened up their omnitools and started typing frantically.

If I were Shepard, where would I be?

The shooting range, most likely. Or maybe the bistro on the Presidium that served all-day breakfast—the waiters knew her by name at this point, and had her order memorized; six waffles (minimum) with sickly-sweet syrup and three orders of some kind of thinly-sliced meat he couldn't remember the name of, as well as a quart of orange juice and a glass of ice water. Her biotic implant had always required Shepard to eat a minimum of seven thousand calories a day, and her Cerberus upgrades only made her appetite larger. Watching her eat was like watching a thresher maw devour a platoon of soldiers—both grotesque, fascinating, and impressive all at the same time.

He checked the security feeds from that part of the Citadel. Shepard hadn't been seen anywhere on the Presidium today, or so the reports from C-Sec told him. He pulled up the shooting range on his omnitool next and started decrypting their security algorithms. If she hadn't visited the shooting range, then she could be on any one of the wards, in which case it would take hours to find her. Too slow. Always too slow.

Like a needle in a haystack, Shepard always said.

"Jack hasn't seen her," Tali reported sharply, snapping Garrus out of his reverie. His talon accidentally hit a wrong key and the security algorithms tightened up again, locking him out. He cursed under his breath and started over. "Neither has Miranda."

"Keep searching," he told her.

The security feeds finally popped up, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. One Commander Jane M. Shepard had not accessed the firing range for thirty-four days and sixteen hours. He racked his brain for other places Shepard might be, and came up empty. He decided to try to reach the rest of the team like Tali was doing—cover more ground and locate the target faster, his instincts told him.

After a few minutes of spamming the omnitools of the other crewmembers, Garrus growled lowly in his throat. "Jacob hasn't seen her. Massani says he saw her on the ship and she looked pissed about something but he didn't stick around to ask, so that's a dead end."

"Grunt says he's coming back to the Normandy to help look. He'll be there in ten minutes."

"Zaeed's on his way back, too. Is Legion still on the ship? Have him look around until we get there."

"I think he's in sleep mode in the AI core. Let me try EDI."

The pristine landscape of the Presidium raced below them, blurring into a vast swath of mottled greens and blues. In the years Garrus had known Shepard, she had never lied to his face, not once. She always told the truth, even if it was horrible and you never wanted to know it—without honesty, without trust, a crew was nothing. She always pushed for that.

"Yes, Tali'Zorah?" EDI's calm voice asked, emanating from both of their comms.

Garrus answered first. He barked, "EDI, we need to find Shepard. Where is she?"

Anybody else would have missed the near-imperceptible pause as EDI thought for a moment, but it did not escape their notice. Garrus felt his plates begin to itch. EDI always gave her answers immediately, no matter what. If she was hesitating, something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

He knew things were about to get worse. It was that damned sixth sense he wished he didn't have.

"I'm afraid that information is classified, Officer Vakarian."

Classified.

Classified?

The word held no implication for several all-too-brief moments—classified? What in the world did that even mean?—but the realization of her words quickly slammed into him like a rogue wave against a tall, rocky cliff side that was mere seconds away from crumbling into the ocean.

Any doubts about the innocence of the situation suddenly vanished, replaced with the definitive answer Garrus had been dreading: Shepard was either hiding from them for some reason, in which case she had lied to them, and Shepard never, ever lied unless something was seriously wrong; she had been kidnapped, probably by Cerberus or some other faction that had it out for her for some reason or another; or she was… Spirits, he didn't know what else could have happened to her. Garrus wasn't capable of coming up with any other logical solutions. Either Shepard was lying to them or she was in trouble, and both options were bleak.

The skycar hummed quietly, zipping through the air above the Presidium and closer to the docks—not close enough, Garrus thought. He wished he could dismantle the speed limitations on the skycar, but figured that getting arrested wouldn't be helpful at that point. They needed to find Shepard.

"Classified," Tali repeated dumbly, as if she had never said the word out loud before. "Since when is anything on the Normandy classified?"

"I cannot answer that, Miss Tali'Zorah. Is there anything else you require?" EDI at least had the decency to sound regretful, but Garrus could feel his blood racing through his veins as he felt his temper begin to rear its head. He tried his best to tamp it down.

Tali looked at him helplessly, choking and stumbling over her words. "Is—is there anything you can tell us? Anything at all? Please, EDI. We're really worried about Shepard."

"I cannot assist you in that regard. Is there anything else you require of me?"

"Are you serious?" Garrus blurted out, suddenly running out of patience. If the AI had a neck, he would've been wringing it. "Shepard might be in danger and you're refusing to help?"

"I am sorry," EDI apologized, and then hesitated ever so slightly. "I cannot inform you of her location…but I can tell you that the Commander is unharmed at this current point in time."

"Oh, very helpful," he snarled.

"My apologies. May I be of any further assistance?"

"No, EDI," Tali said quietly. "Thank you."

"Logging you out, Miss Tali'Zorah."

For several seconds, neither Garrus nor Tali made a single sound. They were stunned, reeling from what EDI had just told them—or, more accurately, had refused to tell them. A small part of Garrus was relieved that Shepard was clearly not in some kind of trouble, otherwise EDI would have definitely told them where the commander was, no holds barred. But what the AI had said rattled around Garrus' mind, repeating itself over and over again until the word sounded like nothing but noise.

Classified.

Shepard was hiding from them. She had lied, told them conflicting stories, and gone off on her own to do… something. Shepard didn't do things on her own; she believed there was power in numbers. Whatever it was she was of doing, it had to be important, right? There was no way Shepard would do something like this lightly. And yet, no matter how many times Garrus assured himself of this, it never sounded quite true.

They sat in frustrated silence for several moments. The map display on the dashboard of the skycar said they were only fifteen minutes from the Normandy's docking location and closing fast. They both stared out the windows in resignation—there was little else they could do until they reached the ship and started retracing Shepard's footsteps. With a staggering amount of effort, Garrus regulated his breathing and tried to slow his heartrate in an attempt to regain his focus, yet he could not shake the hollow-sounding words that EDI had spoken only moments before.

Classified classified classified

Dammit, Shepard. Where are you? I can't—

"She's going to like that, you know," Tali murmured, breaking the uneasy quiet.

Garrus blinked, emerging from his racing thoughts. He looked at her uncomprehendingly. "What?"

"That little ship model." Tali gestured toward the backseat. Her voice was soft and bespoke her worry about the commander, but she kept her tone steady and unwavering. "She's been looking for that one for a while. How much did it cost?"

Half of Garrus wanted to panic and make up a million excuses why that ship model wasn't for Shepard, but Tali wasn't stupid, nor was she blind. She would never buy it. The other half of his mind was thankful for the distraction she was offering him. "Too much," he admitted.

"One thousand credits?"

"More."

"Two thousand?"

"More."

"Keelah, Garrus," Tali admonished, turning to look at him incredulously (he assumed—that helmet made things difficult). "She's either going to kill you or love you."

He tried to keep his voice level as he forced out a lame excuse. "She bought me that enhanced scope for my rifle a few weeks ago. Figured this is the least I can do."

"I should probably get her something, too. She did keep me from being exiled, after all," she mused. "Humans are big on gift-giving—or Shepard is, at the very least. Any ideas?"

Garrus didn't hesitate. "Socks."

Tali looked at him, head tilting to the side in silent question. "Socks," she repeated flatly, as if she thought he was making a joke.

He nodded, swallowing. "I, uh…I heard her talking about it in the mess hall the other day. Apparently humans put on these weird fabric foot wrappings before they put their shoes on. Some are comfier than others. I guess. I don't know. I'm not an expert."

"Uh-huh," Tali replied, unconvinced. He swore she was fighting down a smile but couldn't be sure since he had never actually seen her mouth before in his life.

He glared at her. "What?"

"Oh, nothing."

"What?"

She shrugged, staring out the window on her side of the car. She picked mindlessly at a frayed seam in the seat cushion. "You're about as subtle as a shotgun, Garrus. And a poorly-designed one, at that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know that you have feelings for Shepard."

For the first time, Garrus was thankful for Jack's colorful language. Every curse word he knew—turian, human, krogan, and salarian (the asari didn't like to swear)—played on repeat in his mind like a never-ending marathon of noise.

"Feelings?" He tried to fight the panic that was crawling its way up his throat. She's reaching, she doesn't actually know anything, calm down. "Nice try, but I don't have a fetish for humans. They're all squishy and—"

"Garrus."

"From a biological standpoint—"

"Garrus." She stretched the word out, turning suddenly and flicking his unscarred mandible sharply. She tilted her head to the side, eyes glowing faintly behind her faceplate, slightly narrowed. She was totally onto him.

Shit.

Garrus exhaled sharply and collapsed back onto his seat, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "This day just keeps getting better and better," he muttered under his breath. He shot an accusatory look at Tali. "How'd you find out?"

"I've had my suspicions for a while. And before you start yelling, I'm not going to tell anybody."

"You're not?" He raised a browplate—a quirk he'd picked up from Shepard. His voice was laced with skepticism.

"Of course not," she scoffed, waving at him dismissively. "We're friends, Garrus, and while your love life isn't exactly high on my priorities list, I care about Shepard. She deserves to be happy, and I think you could make that happen. You two are… weirdly perfect for each other."

"Thanks, I guess."

"I meant that in the best way possible." she said, turning in her seat to face him. Her eyes were turned up at the edges as she smiled. "Have you told her yet?"

We slept together, so that has to count for something. I think.

Garrus pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and groaned, sinking deeper into the seat of the skycar as if it could swallow him whole. At the same time, however, he felt a flooding sense of immense relief. If Tali thought they were perfect together, then that meant Garrus wasn't crazy—he and Shepard really did have something more than weird interspecies physical chemistry.

"We are not talking about this," he muttered sharply. He could feel her eyes on him, watching intently from the sidelines as he struggled with his words. Oh, what the hell. "I mean—Spirits, am I insane for even thinking about this? Cross-species is pretty… out there. Even for this galaxy."

Tali chuckled softly and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "No, I don't think you're crazy at all. You guys are best friends, so what's the problem?"

"Things could get complicated if something goes wrong."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that's true for any relationship. Ever."

"I'm serious, Tali," he insisted. "She's my C.O. and I can't let this—whatever this is or might be—affect her judgment. Things would be way too complicated."

"That won't happen. You're both too mature for that. Next argument."

"Fraternization is against Alliance regs."

"We just spent the last six months working with Cerberus and you're worried about potentially breaking Alliance rules?" she asked flatly. She rolled her eyes, scoffing softly. "Come on, Garrus. I've never seen you follow a military reg since I've known you, and Shepard isn't exactly a stickler for the rules, either. Next argument."

"Well, she does this thing where she pops her knuckles—"

"Stop," Tali said, holding up a hand. She shuddered. "I actually agree with you on that. One of these days, she's going to rip her fingers off. It's so…"

"Horrifying?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up," she said, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the memories of Shepard's noisy habit. "Now, next argument—unless that was the end of your list?"

He could have given her a thousand different reasons why it would never work between him and Shepard. Ultimately, though, the endless list he'd compiled over the last few weeks all boiled down to one common theme: their friendship. It was the only constant in his life for the past several months. She was always there, always ready to go and save the day with Garrus at her six. It was all so familiar. So real. So consistent. Everything else—his squad, his purpose, Sidonis, hell, even himself—had changed irreparably. Garrus was harder, rougher around the edges now, more conscious of the risks he took with his own life because he knew what happened when you didn't pay attention to the little details; they were the real killers, not the bullets or the guns or even the people wielding them, but the details. He had seen first-hand the horrors the galaxy had to offer, and somehow managed to come out on the other side of things, alive and kicking-mostly. But he wasn't the same. Not really.

When Shepard came careening back into his life that day on Omega, he knew she was the anchor he had been looking for, the one thing that would tie him to this life, to his purpose. If he lost that…

Well. He didn't really want to make that kind of risk, no matter how calculated.

"She's my best friend," he murmured, glancing out the window of the skycar. He could see the silvery waters of the Presidium race past, rippling in the artificial breeze that Shepard always complained about.

Give me a real planet with a real sun and real goddamn wind any day, and don't even get me started on those stupid lakes.

That's what she always told him. He always laughed. She always smiled.

He liked her smile.

With a deep breath, Garrus continued, "I don't want to mess things up. With the Reapers coming, a bad relationship is the last thing Shepard needs. I can't be selfish. There's too much at stake."

Tali sighed softly and inclined her head forward. She peered at him, bright eyes expressionless behind her mask. "You're a lot of things, Garrus, but selfish isn't one of them. You and I both know we're living on borrowed time until the Reapers arrive, and Shepard knows it, too. She should at least know all of her options while she still has the time to consider them."

Tali paused, mulling over her next words. "Look… when you both found me on Haestrom, I remember being jealous of how easy it was for you to fall back in line the way you did. You guys were practically reading each other's minds at that point. It was so irritating. And a little bit creepy, if I'm being completely honest. I hated you for it. Later, though, I realized I was angry at myself—not you—for refusing to go with Shepard on Freedom's Progress. I should have believed her, but I couldn't see past the colors she was wearing and her sudden reappearance, no matter how wonderful it seemed. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I'd go with her in a heartbeat. But you," she emphasized, poking his shoulder, "were there for her. All the way from the beginning. You didn't ask questions—"

"I was a little busy bleeding out on the floor," he said dryly.

Tali ignored him. "You just went with her and didn't complain the entire way. You never questioned her decisions unless she asked, and when she did ask the crew, she always asked you first. She took you on every single mission, Garrus. Miranda might have the title, but you're Shepard's X.O., whether you believe it or not. There's no one she trusts more than you. Not even Doctor Chakwas or Joker. It's you."

Garrus pondered Tali's words. She had a point—he was the one she always came to when she wasn't sure about something, and Miranda always sent him death glares because of it. Still, he wasn't convinced. "I don't know," he told her, dragging out the last word. "It's still pretty risky."

"Asking her out to dinner is risky?" Tali asked, clearly unimpressed. She rolled her eyes and muttered something Garrus' translator didn't catch before turning back to him, her eyes narrowed. "This is Shepard we're talking about. You could take her out to the shooting range and feed her nutri-paste through a straw all night and she'd still have a great time with you. She's a person who deserves to be happy, just like anybody else, and you have the chance to make her happy. Dammit, Garrus, pull yourself together and ask her out to dinner!"

"It sounds so normal when you put it like that—"

"Because it is normal," she stressed.

"It's still hard to reconcile the whole turian-human thing, though."

Tali threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "It's not like you're the first cross-species couple. I think you should count yourself lucky, Garrus. I don't exactly understand human aesthetics, but from what I understand, she's beautiful. Just think of her as a not-so-blue asari and you'll be fine."

"I know she's beautiful. It's not that."

"Then what?"

"You know how close she was with Alenko back on the SR-1," Garrus muttered. He could see the docking bay in the distance, closing fast. They didn't have long. "He's always going to have the advantage that he's human and I'm not. I wouldn't blame her if she chose him—providing he pulls his head out of his ass about the whole Cerberus affiliation, of course."

"I read the report on Horizon," she said, shaking her head. "I still can't believe Kaidan treated her like that."

"I considered shooting him. I think Shepard did, too."

"I don't think she'd go back to him, though. Not after something like that. Besides, have you ever known Shepard to take the easy way out?"

"No," Garrus admitted. "I guess you're right."

"Could you say that again? I'd like to get a recording of it."

"Don't push it, Tali."

###

The skycar descended slowly toward the empty tarmac next to the docking bay. The waiting area was mostly empty except for a few C-Sec officers who were milling around and a Keeper who was working over in the far corner of the room. No one spared them a glance as they landed and spilled out of the skycar, leaving so quickly that Garrus almost forgot the model ship in the backseat. With it tucked safely under one arm, he and Tali marched toward the door that would lead them up to the airlock of the ship.

As they stepped on board and walked toward the galaxy map, Garrus gestured toward the lab that had been abandoned by Mordin earlier in the week. "Take the emergency hatch down to the shuttle bay and work your way up. I'll head up to Shepard's cabin and look around. We'll meet in the middle."

She shot him a withering look as they came around the side of the galaxy map to stand in front of the elevator. "Why am I always the one who gets shoved in cramped spaces? It's only been two weeks and I'm still having nightmares about those vents."

"You're the only one that fits," he shot back, pressed the button to call the elevator. "Now get going. Ping me if you find anything."

Tali muttered something about stubborn turians and stormed off toward the lab. Garrus ignored her. The elevator doors slid open and he pressed the button for Shepard's cabin. For once, the elevator went faster than usual—must have been something the engineers had repaired during the retrofit, he thought. Before he knew it, Garrus was keying open Shepard's door and stepping past the threshold…

…into a complete war zone.

Edited: 4/29/17 Much love to you all.