Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around dudes. I'm taking a bit more time to try and get my fictional facts straight. Lol, I'm playin' through ME3 right now and its getting me all mixed up! I love it! 4 will be up soon!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bioware's totally cool characters/game.

Dreams

The Commander hadn't been able to sleep, her body had been too restless for that. So instead of lying there in bed she spent a few hours in the vehicle bay fiddling with her pistol. She was itching to use the new hammerhead rounds she'd found back on Noveria. Garrus had picked some up last time they were on the Citadel and she'd been more than a little envious. That sniper was already a damn fine shot, and those power-packed shells made it even more impressive when they slammed their target into the wall.

She snorted, thinking of how childish she sounded. Even to herself. Still smiling, she thought of Garrus while she absently cleaned the barrel. The turian officer had been on her mind most of the day, while they traveled to the Kepler Verge, and again that night. Maybe that was why she couldn't rest.

This mission was important to him, she knew that. She recognized the regret in his voice when he told her about the salarian doctor, and how he'd ran. She knew he beat himself up over it, and she didn't want him to. Especially since they were already on such a high risk operation. Commander Shepard needed her turian at his best. The turian. She frowned, but didn't think twice.

The geneticist would get what was coming to him, he'd eluded punishment long enough. And Officer Vakarian would have set things right. She wanted to help him finish what he'd started. Tomorrow she'd make it happen.

Lovingly inspecting her Stiletto, she yawned. She'd upgraded it to a kinetic recoil, which would help with the kickback, improving her accuracy, and loaded it with her new ammo. She was happy, and finally sleepy. Another yawn and she switched off the light above the work counter and boarded the elevator, heading towards her cabin.

As reluctant as she was to leave Captain Anderson on the Citadel and replace him as Normandy's CO, there were some perks. One of which was the private captain's quarters.

When she'd first boarded the Normandy, before Eden Prime, Shepard had searched the ship for a place to sleep that was separate from the rest of the crew. She had found a storage alcove that was barely used, and convinced Anderson to let her set up a cot. After Torfan she didn't like sharing quarters with a crew. Too many uncomfortable glances. A separate bunk was good for her sanity. Now she slept in the captain's cabin, which was luxury compared to her store room.

She shoved her pants down, kicked them off, and collapsed onto her bed, leaving her in only briefs and a tank. Four hours to sleep, and then it was go-time. She drifted off easily this time, thinking about how nice it would be to have a turian wandering the ship who was in good spirits. Maybe he was already in good spirits... Was he? She didn't know that much about turian behavior. Shepard didn't even know what was going through her mind at that point. She'd fallen asleep.

Garrus skipped breakfast and opted instead for a long, cool shower. He still felt guilty for dreaming of Shepard. The cold stream of water seemed to help wash away the shame, and the sweat, but not the confusion.

Knowing it was his subconscious that betrayed him did not make it better. On the contrary. She was his commanding officer. A Council Spectre. A human! And they seemed to be becoming friends. How could he even entertain thoughts like that? It was irrelevant whether he could control them.

The turians were a militant and disciplined people, taught to restrict their emotions, constantly fighting to keep the animal urges of their ancestors at bay. Those instincts served well for survival, and other areas of life where a certain amount of passion was expected, but otherwise a good turian was expected to strive to maintain their dignity and composure - and succeed.

Garrus heaved a sigh and stopped the water. He stood there, naked, his body temperature starting to drop. He was discovering more and more that he was not a good turian. His career in C-Sec was over because he disobeyed orders - refusing to drop the Arterius investigation, acting alone, eventually joining up with Shepard. He guessed that that alone made him a less than perfect member of his species. Then his mind wandered back years before, when he'd given up on his hopes of becoming a Spectre. Because he had followed orders - his father's orders - and his jaw tightened in frustration. He was doing things for the right reasons now, for his own reasons. No one else. Did that necessarily make him a 'bad' turian?

He shook his head, the water flicking off his mandibles and fringe. This wasn't the time for introspection. He had more important matters at hand, like the salarian. The epiphanies could wait, and so could the Shepard dream. Garrus laughed at himself. Finally, the tension in his shoulders had eased a bit. He would be able to look at his commander, his friend, without vividly imagining her writhing on top of him. Right?

Oh, Spirits.

His palm went to his forehead. Any action would be good. He needed to blow off some steam, and what better way than dispensing some well-deserved justice on the galaxy?

After stepping into his blue and silver armor he headed for the vehicle bay. He was probably going to want his pistol.

He was checking the sight of his rifle and stuffing some clips into his side-pouches when the intercom crackled and beeped. He stiffened when he heard her voice.

"Garrus, Joker's got the freighter on sensors."

He didn't reply immediately.

"Vakarian?" she sounded annoyed.

He cleared his throat. "Loud and clear, Commander. I'll be right up there."

"Okay," and she was off the comm. He scooped up his pistol and attached it to his hip, his rifle on his back. He slammed his locker shut.

"Let's get this over with," he growled under his breath, his sharp blue eyes narrow and determined. Taking a deep breath in and out through his nose, he cleared his head and made his way to the bridge.