A/N: Almost everything is owned by Bioware. As always reviews are loved and greatly encouraged.

Shepard paced her cabin. Her cabin. The words sounded all wrong in her head leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Her cabin. Her ship. Her crew. She stared at the cabin eyes roving over the bed, the computer, even the table. She remembered her debriefings with Anderson at 2100 every evening. The way he always lounged in the chair across from her, waiting as she ran through the day's events. Usually they shared a whiskey. She'd always dreamed of having her own ship, but not this one. Not Anderson's.

Hell and she had aliens on the ship. She'd seen the disbelief in Udina's eyes when Wrex, Garrus, and Tali all boarded the Normandy. She hadn't said anything, just watched. Udina's eyes soaking them in as his jaw moved almost imperceptibly. She thought he might object to having aliens on an Alliance ship, but technically, the ship wasn't the Alliance's anymore. It was hers. The Spectre's. She had no qualms with aliens on her ship. The turian was an exceptional shot, and the krogan was a veritable freight train in combat. The quarian, well, she found the evidence on Saren, and Shepard knew she could always use a tech expert. And quarians, she'd learned, were the best tech experts in the galaxy. They all had their own reasons for going with her. Wrex simply wanted someone to shoot, and she knew Garrus was still irked that Saren's movements had been restricted to him. His failure in C-Sec still rankled.

She pulled up the codex on her computer thumbing through the entries on her new crewmembers. She'd gone through the basic Alliance training for all officers, but she didn't know more than the basics. Turians were interested in honor. Krogan liked to fight. Quarians were nomads. The codex didn't have too much more that was interesting. Turians needed outlets for stress, that was new, and she raised her eyebrows when she figured out what they were. Krogan were extremely volatile, and she knew she'd be taking Wrex out in her squad a lot. And that left the quarians, and not much to read, she skimmed something about a pilgrimage and their flotilla, but nothing about how Tali would respond to being on her ship. They lived on ships all their lives, the flotilla, so Shepard assumed Tali would be fine.

She rolled her head back stretching the tight muscles on her neck. Joker would be wondering where they were headed. To Therum? To pick up the archeologist? and then on to find the asari matriarch? Or she could deal with the matriarch first, maybe it would be better if her daughter wasn't there. It was her choice. She scanned the galaxy map before making her way up to the cockpit. A couple of the marines saluted as she passed, and she returned the gesture. She didn't intend to run her ship like that, and she knew Anderson hadn't either. Better for them to be safe than sorry, she mused. She'd have to brief everyone on protocol. At least while she was in charge. It still seemed temporary to her, as though somehow Anderson would come striding back on to the bridge at any moment gruff voice barking commands.

Joker was lounging in his pilot's chair. He was reputedly the best pilot in the fleet, and Shepard had been privy to some of the stunts he pulled. "Hey Commander," he said in greeting.

"Joker."

"Where we headed?"

"Therum. Let's pick up that archeologist."

"You got it Commander." Joker turned back to the controls. She'd already given the crew her speech about the mission and what mattered. About living up to Anderson's legacy. No need to do that again.

Garrus made his way down to the cargo hold along with Wrex and Tali. Tali found the drive core almost instantly and disappeared. Garrus was growing fond of the little quarian. She was quiet and shy, but she certainly knew about ships. She certainly wasn't like the timid street rat most quarians had the reputation for being. Although that was expected for quarians when they spent their whole lives on the flotilla—perpetual exiles because of the geth. Her eyes went big when she saw some of the tech on the Normandy, and Garrus thought he could hear her whisper "keelah sel'ai" more than once. Garrus was a bit surprised, he'd always assumed the quarians would have some of the best tech because of how much their lives relied upon it, but, he supposed, when you're in exile R&D can fall by the wayside.

Garrus was surprised to see the turian design of the CIC. The commander would be able to see over the crew. She could watch everyone in a combat situation. Garrus was familiar with the premise, and he knew, well he thought he knew, it was anathema to human tactics. He was interested to see how it would turn out should the Normandy run into any trouble. Shepard seemed like a decent enough commander, she had figured out a way to get the Council on her side. And she'd been quick and decisive while dealing with Fist and the quarian. She was a decent enough shot too. He was taken aback when he saw her use biotics, turians didn't use biotics often preferring weapon modifications and training to biological enhancement.

Williams was down in the cargo hold too, she was busying herself at the armory examining the most recent acquisitions. Taking each gun apart, cleaning and inspecting it, before oiling and reassembling it. She was quick and thorough. Almost as fast as he was. Garrus wondered if maybe he had gone all these years not giving humans enough credit. Williams's eyes glanced restlessly around the cargo bay finding Garrus and then Wrex before moving back to Garrus. He knew he made Williams uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do about that. Humans were usually wary of turians, their sharp lines and features were too foreign to them to easily accommodate. But there was something in Williams's gaze Garrus recognized and didn't like. It wasn't just fear or caution, it was dislike almost hate. Garrus had seen the look often enough while he was working for C-Sec, especially when he was arresting suspects, but normally he understood the response. He understood it wasn't just him: it was the institution, or the circumstances. Garrus didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but for some humans being an alien was enough. Although if Garrus was truthful, a lot of turians felt the same way about humans.

He made his way to the Mako. Familiar enough. The turian military used a similar model, and if he was going to be holed up down here he may as well make himself useful. Also, tinkering with machines calmed here, helped him to focus. And being the only turian on this ship, and with Williams constantly staring, he had a feeling he was going to need all the help focusing he could get. He ran his hand along the tan hull. She was new. As new as the ship. He doubted she'd been dropped more then a handful of times, there was hardly a scratch on her. He slid under her poking at her belly, separating wires checking some of the boxes. She had upgrades Garrus had never seen. He nodded appreciatively. He hoped he'd get to take her out soon. He'd love to put her through the paces, see just what these upgrades would do.

"Officer Vakarian!" a voice cut across the hold, and Garrus slammed his head into the bottom of the Mako in surprise.

He finally untangled himself, "Ma'am?" he stood.

"I have a project for you," she motioned for him to come closer. He was intrigued. What project could she have for him? Already. She was in the same uniform he'd seen on the Citadel when she spoke with the Council. He assumed it must be standard Alliance uniform. He'd seen enough of the Alliance wandering the Citadel, but he'd never really paid much attention to them. Better start now, then, he mused already committing the insignias and patches to memory.

"Turians are pretty one-dimensional when it comes to stress, right?" she continued bluntly. Garrus rarely encountered COs who minced words, he nodded. "And we don't have any female turians on ship, and I'd prefer if my female crew doesn't go into anaphylactic shock, so that leaves sparring."

Garrus's mouth hung open unexpectedly. Humans didn't do that on ships, against regs or something, "Who am I going to fight? I'm still the only turian on this ship."

She smiled, "Me. Or Wrex, if you think you can take him. Or anyone else who wants to. You can't hurt them." She regarded him, "They can't hurt you either. I won't have the Doc fixing people up over this. But as long as it stays clean, it's for all of us. I have no idea how long we'll be out, and I'd prefer to keep my turian sane."

Garrus wondered vaguely if all humans were like her. He hadn't expected her to pay attention to what one member of her crew might need. Especially not when he was the only one, as far as he knew Wrex and Tali could handle themselves fine. It was one of the reasons he'd situated himself near the Mako—non-destructive stress relief. He watched her order some of her marines around bringing poles and elastic. She was already marking out the ring, and the crew was anxious to help. He glanced over at Williams, the look on her face bordered on disgusted, and Garrus knew that Shepard was different. Humans were definitely not like her.

"Vakarian!" Shepard was in the ring. "Care to dance?"

He obliged pulling off most of his blue armor leaving only the rough underclothes. His hard skin was a weak natural armor and would provide enough protection against the human. He was, in all honesty, more worried about her. She seemed so unfathomably small. She had small half gloves on her hand, more to protect her knuckles from his rough skin than anything else.

He slid between the ropes. They faced each other for a moment before a quick nod sent them into tight fighting stances. Shepard hunched her shoulders arms closing over her chest and sides. Her hands sat just at her cheekbones, right beneath her eyes. She was closed off. Elbows kept in to save energy. Garrus smiled, she knew what she was doing. And it told Garrus everything he needed to know about where to strike: anywhere.

Garrus's front arm hung low and outside protecting the soft flesh on his side while his back hand stayed up cocked next to his jaw to protect the skin around his neck. Turians, thankfully, only had a smattering of weak places. The extra radiation on Palaven occasionally came in handy, and close combat was the perfect example. Shepard swallowed when she saw Garrus's relatively open stance, and she had to restrain herself from feeling offended that he left himself so open. No one had baited her like that in a long time…since the first days of basic.

He stepped to the right and Shepard countered moving in an easy circle. He threw a quick jab and she bobbed to the outside taking a half step back just out of his reach. She changed direction leading with her back foot and giving him a half second window with every step. She feinted with a quick jab moving forward and sliding underneath his guard to land a hook at his open left side. She moved back as soon as it landed. Still testing. Neither of them were committing until they knew some of the limits, or capabilities, of the other.

Garrus gimaced when the punch landed. It wasn't a hard hit, and Garrus knew she hadn't put her weight behind it. He followed with a punch, but he was high and she already slipped out of his reach. He moved in throwing another jab to keep her moving. She wove left this time and he caught her with his cross. Her head knocked back, but she shook it off a grin starting to cross her face.

They were moving slowly. Methodically. Neither of them would fight this way in combat, both of them trying to read the other and trying to keep their tells as confined as possible. Her left leg twitched and Garrus danced back out of her reach in anticipation. She saw, recognition crossing her face. She twitched her leg again, and Garrus stayed where he was, he didn't want to give her another tell. This time her leg flicked up catching the side of his face. She was fast, he made a mental note so he wouldn't be caught again.

She followed with an uppercut, but she caught his hardened skin instead, "Ow," she muttered shaking her hand as she moved back out.

Garrus grinned, "We're not all soft like you humans."

"I noticed." They were circling each other.

A small crowd of marines were watching, and for once they were silent. There was nothing menacing about this bout, nothing that would alert them. But it was different. Their Commander was fighting an opponent that was clearly bigger and most likely stronger than she was, and none of them knew how he would respond. Garrus quickly looked at them, they were tense, but waiting. He knew they wouldn't interfere. Shepard followed his eyes, scanning their growing audience. Garrus took the opportunity and closed the space between them.

Jab, jab, cross, uppercut, cross. And Shepard was back against the ropes.

Her hands instinctively rose to protect her face against the onslaught, and he felt her body stiffen and then relax. Hands dropped half a second later to meet him with a head butt.

Startled he stumbled back a few steps, enough space so she could slink away from the ropes. The marines hollered encouragement.

Garrus hadn't expected that from the human. It was a bold move, and neither of them showed any inclination towards boldness, at least during this round. She shot him a half smile and shrug wiping the sweat from her face.

Garrus still held the middle of the ring, although Shepard was a persistence opponent. She danced in and then out again before he could respond. He knew she had to be getting tired, he could see the sweat beading along her hairline. He was tiring too, but turians didn't sweat. Didn't really show their fatigue at all, really. He was suddenly glad for that.

Her leg flicked up again. He spent a fraction of a second wondering if she hunted heads or just knew that was his weak spot, before closing the gap and colliding with her. He closed fast enough that her kick missed him, and he slammed into her with enough force to knock her to the ground. His foot was on her before she could rise, the standard turian symbol for the end of a round, but the angry mutters from some of the marines made him reconsider and he moved.

She was up, smiling. "Good. I haven't fought like that in a long time." The audience was quiet again once they realized she was fine.

"Me either." And he hadn't. She was unexpected, a welcome change from the rote sessions he'd been having back on the Citadel. Of course, they were both still testing each other, but she challenged him, and he thought maybe he did too.

She reached to shake his hand, and he took it. Friendly ending. Friendly bout.

She turned to address the crew, "All right men, here's the rules: don't hurt each other. Don't let it get out of control. Either of those things happen, and it's done. Consider this an experiment since we're not an Alliance vessel anymore." She felt good saying that, not an Alliance vessel. They weren't. She was making the Normandy into her ship. As much as it hurt her to cleanse Anderson's influence, she knew she had to. For her crew. For her.