Semper Fi
Chapter 3
Garrus - 2

Garrus didn't really know what to do. It was four in the morning, too early to get out of bed but too late to try to sleep a little more. He didn't know if he was allowed to go to the cargo bay for a little exercise so early in the morning, he had forgotten to ask and asking now would not help his case. The Commander was not the kind of woman to like to be disturbed in the middle of the night for something so meaningless, he had figured that out easily. She had impressed him greatly, so much he hadn't dared to speak much during his first day on the Normandy.

After leaving the Citadel, they had reached the relay within an hour, not caring much for speed regulation in a so crowded space. Shepard had used this time to give him a second, more detailed tour of the ship. Chief Engineer Adams and the Quarian went with them to explain to Garrus how things worked. Being himself an engineer, though more versed into weaponry and computers, Garrus didn't have any particular problem following their explanations – even if the Quarian's accent was terrible. Shepard surprised him during the tour. He had thought she was a soldier head to toes but she knew a lot about her ship. She was no engineer for sure but she seemed to like to understand how everything worked on board. She had asked more questions than Garrus and the Quarian answered each time carefully, as if passing a test. Maybe it had been a test. Maybe Garrus should make sure to be able to answer any question from the Commander.

Lunch wasn't a big deal on the Normandy. Everybody grabbed something Sergeant Garden had prepared in the morning and went back to work after a short break. Garrus relied on military rations. Shepard told him the sergeant knew how to cook dextro food, to which Garrus replied he may try later but he was good for now. He never ate much at lunch anyway. Shepard gave him one of her piercing green look that indicated she didn't buy his bullshit but didn't say anything on the subject. She just reminded him they had limited resources on board and wasting food was not a smart move.

The afternoon was dedicated to weapons of all sort. Garrus spent practically all his time in the cargo bay with Shepard, Lieutenant Cortez and Williams. They reviewed the armory, made sure he knew everything he had to know, counted ammo and thermo clips and all. Garrus had to show his equipment to Shepard at some point. She didn't say anything about how little he had in firepower – courtesy of C-Sec – but it was clear she wanted him to upgrade his artillery. For that, he'd have to do a little shopping on Omega. She'd come with him, she knew where to find "good stuff". She couldn't land him anything for now as the crew had cleared the stocks on the Citadel – all material ceased during missions were to be taken to the authorities. Plus Spectres had to buy their weapons themselves. Garrus didn't mind. His new status allowed him to carry even illegal weapons. Omega was the perfect place to start a collection of highly interesting artillery.

Shepard released him an hour before dinner and Garrus found himself not knowing what to do. He transferred his things to Life Support but the room was mostly empty. He didn't want to bother the Commander with simple questions like "can I borrow a chair and a desk?" and he supposed Javik wouldn't answer him either so he turned to Specialist Traynor. She took him to an intermediary deck between engineering and the cargo bay where they kept spare furniture under red lights. The Geth was there, a human hard-cover book in hand, sitting very straight on a chair in the middle of the small space, as if it needed to sit. It waved its facial plates a few times as it looked to Garrus but didn't move otherwise. Garrus felt uneasy while he and Traynor took what he needed. He could deal with a Krogan and a Quarian but a Geth, a Geth! What the heck was he supposed to do around a Geth? Shepard had told him this "Legion" was part of the crew, a special machine, independent from his kind, but that didn't help at all. What good was a rebellious AI from an openly hostile synthetic race? This thing just had to have access to the ship's systems to kill them all in a matter of seconds. Of course, there was the other AI on board, EDI, but Garrus didn't trust it either. AI were forbidden by Council laws for a good reason.

But, it wasn't Garrus' place to say anything about his Commander's motives and reasons. If she wanted to have a Geth and that ridiculously curvy android on board, he just had to be prepared to shoot both of them in case something went wrong.

Traynor helped him settle down in Life Support but it didn't take long. She was intrigued by his arrangements and he had to explain to her Turians didn't sleep on their backs like Humans or Asaris. They slept in a sitting position because of their fringes and back where were located their lungs. Laying down was for young children or generally considered a really bad sign in sick people. They usually said a Turian on his back was already dead. Traynor found it interesting and asked a few more questions about Turians, mostly about their habits and behavior. Turians weren't fond of curiosity toward their culture but Garrus answered her nonetheless. The specialist wasn't indiscreet, she just wanted to make sure she wouldn't say or do something offensive for a Turian. She admitted she only had met Shepard's mentor and he was a pretty laid-back Turian from what she had deduced. That didn't surprise Garrus at all. If Kryik had insisted that Shepard learned Etherian, that meant it probably was his mother tongue. It was the most common language in secessionist colonies. That plus his last name gave Garrus a pretty good idea of Shepard's mentor's origins. No wonder he was laid-back.

Traynor then remembered they hadn't created his intranet login yet so they went to CIC. It took a minute to secure everything and link his omnitool to the ship's network. Though, Traynor said, Shepard didn't like her crew using what she considered a weapon for personal use, so Garrus would need a terminal in his quarters for connections to the intranet or, when possible, to the extranet. As long as his omnitool was used for communications, it was sort of okay but he had to be careful to keep it professional. The ship loaded automatically updates from secured servers when possible so Garrus wouldn't have to hit refresh like crazy between two relays but use of the extranet was very limited during their trips. Shepard liked it that way anyway. She preferred her crew talking to one another instead of staying on their terminal all day. And it limited the visits to porn websites.

Contrary to lunch, dinner was a big deal on the Normandy. It marked the end of the day shift and Shepard had made it a rule for her crew to change and forget their uniforms until the morning. Even the Krogan wore a comfortable set of clothes instead of his heavy armor and Garrus felt out of place. He hadn't packed any civilian clothes. Shepard arrived in the mess in black sport wear with white and red stripes on her right arm and gave his armor a hard look. She didn't say anything but it was pretty clear he had to do more than weapon shopping on Omega.

Everybody sat at the large table in the mess but ranks weren't quite forgotten. The atmosphere was pretty relaxed nonetheless and the members of the crew talked casually, some more than others. Javik was silent but to ask for water and Garrus imitated him. Vega was the center of attention anyway, giving the crew a few stories of his relatively short military time. When Top Model tried to make Garrus talk, the new Spectre replied he hadn't do much in his life and C-Sec investigations were boring anyway. Shepard didn't talk much either. She listened, she looked and smiled but she mostly stayed quiet in her corner, not eating much. Food seemed to be good though, at least the levo one. It smelled good, even for a Turian like him. His plate was more or less okay. Gardner had made a Quarian dish, sort of a stew overcooked and over-sterilized which didn't have anything special. It tasted as it looked: beige. Garrus didn't know why but it described the stew perfectly. He hoped Gardner would cook something else the next day though, but it seemed the sergeant wanted to learn a little more about turian cuisine. He didn't like to see Garrus ignore his lunch and had taken it as a personal offense or something like that.

The crew was free to relax after dinner. Shepard made herself a cup of hot beverage, made a comment about a hard boring day waiting for them the next day and went to her quarters. Javik reminded some of their duty and left too. It took Garrus a minute and a clear shift of attitude from some crew members to understand the Commander and her Executive Officer were in fact giving space to the ship's personnel. He was tempted to do the same but the pilot, Beard-Face, asked him of his opinion so far. All attention focused on him, Garrus felt uneasy, at best. He felt like it was some sort of a test. Should he criticize the Commander and her crew, life could get complicated. He could always joke but that would damage his Perfect Turian behavior. If he were to follow the book, he had to tell the truth. Then again, it wasn't necessary a smart move. Not that he thought so little of the crew but he had some remarks regarding some members. Garrus chose to give them half of the truth and said something about all the incoherent windows giving on the drive core. The Quarian approved and Beard-Face laughed.

Retreating to his quarters didn't take him long, even if the crew was much more interested in him now. Garrus just said he had to finish cleaning a gun before bed time and left. Traynor knew he was lying but she didn't say anything – she was too busy talking with one of the engineers, probably Daniels. Garrus didn't lock the door behind him when he entered what would be his quarters for a year, even if he wanted to. It was stupid anyway. The Geth or the AI could hack their way in, the Quarian too, and the Krogan would just headbutt the door until it broke. Garrus sat and cleaned all his guns, just in case someone wanted the check the next day, then shut the lights off and tried to sleep. The hum of the drive core was soothing, he had to admit that, but the idea of sleeping so close to a ticking bomb was not helping. He stared at the ceiling, where blue ribbons of light from the core created an underwater impression. Garrus fell asleep at some point, watching the waves.

He was staring again at the ceiling now, fully awaken. He tended to wake up early, like any Turian born and raised on Palaven. The day could be pretty hot so the people enjoyed the early and late hours, when the temperature was manageable, and usually took a nap during the warmest hours. Life on the Citadel was nothing alike because every parameter possible was controlled but Garrus had kept the habit of waking up early. Still, he would have liked to sleep another couple of hours.

It was useless to just sit in the dark and wait so Garrus took his kit and used the men's bathroom. He didn't dare to go in there around dinner last night. He knew what a human man looked like naked but he didn't want to be face to face with one – and let's not talk about the Krogan. Cleaning himself didn't take long. As he exited the bathroom, Garrus noticed activity in one of the observation deck, the one without the bar. Curious, and cautious, he walked to the door and put his head against the cold metal, trying to hear what was going on inside. He was right, there were voices inside and it wasn't difficult to know which ones: the Geth's and the AI's. They weren't plotting for the destruction of the organics, though, even if it was hard to tell – the door was really thick.

"Can I help you, Spectre Vakarian?" the AI's voice asked through Garrus' radio. He jumped in the air and retreated a few steps back from the door. Of course, there must have been cameras on the ship, probably everywhere. It meant the AI, and the Geth, was aware of everything, at any given time. It had known Garrus was awake even before he did.

Garrus cleared his throat. "No, I'm fine."

"If you want to keep playing the ghost with more efficiency," the AI continued, "I recommend you to avoid being in the mess in the following minutes. Commander Shepard has just called the elevator."

Shit, Garrus thought. He turned heels to go back to his quarters – did the AI just give him attitude? – when he realized it was pretty stupid. He had to see his mentor at some point but he would have preferred that to happen on her terms. She was to decide when they meet and talk, those were her privileges as his mentor and superior. But she was Human and maybe Humans didn't see things that way – they certainly didn't, actually. He had to ask her. No doubt she'd give him that piercing green look. It was unsettling. Garrus knew exactly why: his father had the same look, intensity and color-wise. Argoth was a specialist when it came to pin down someone just with a look and he could let you cook under it for minutes without a word. Garrus always hated that habit of his father. His mother didn't mind, she even had fallen for those piercing green eyes and she had regretted to not see the same color transmitted to her children. Well Garrus was glad he had greyish blue eyes. He looked like his father too much for his tastes as it was already.

The elevator made a soft noise announcing the door was going to open. Without thinking, Garrus jumped to the front and saluted as it started to open. "Comman..." he said but he never finished his sentence. A warm burst of energy caught him just under the ribs and threw him against the wall with enough force to blow the wind out of his lungs – thanks the Spirits he was wearing his armor, otherwise that attack would have broken more than a few ribs. Garrus put his hand at his hip by reflex but didn't find his gun. It was kind of useless anyway. A gun against biotics in close quarters couldn't help him.

Wait, biotics?

"Oh shit!" he heard the Commander shoot. "What the Hell, Vakarian! I told you I hated surprises!" Garrus stood against the wall, head spinning a little and breathing hard, doubled with a burning pain in the chest. His armor's shields were completely down and some of the compensators were fried. The in-suit computer told him he had received a punch of a thousand and two hundreds Newtons. He knew some Humans had developed biotics but he had never heard of individuals so powerful. Shepard came closer but didn't touch him. "You okay, Vakarian? Do you need Chakwas? I'll wake her up."

"I'm okay," Garrus replied, waving a hand while the other checked his armor. "I'm okay, Commander," he repeated, trying to straighten his back. Damn, that hurt. For sure he had something broken. It took him a few seconds to stand and breath normally, the pain irradiating his system with each intake of air. A few light painkillers would help until the doctor woke up. Garrus would have to tell the Commander he was injured at some point but he wanted to know exactly to what extend. One thing was sure: his training year started just fucking fine.

Shepard took a step back and folded her arms, frowning. "What did you have in mind exactly, Vakarian?" she asked, chin up. "I don't hug guys who ambush me, I kill 'em."

Yeah, I realized that much, Garrus thought but he didn't dare to tell it. "My apologizes, Commander," he said instead, "it won't happen again."

Shepard seemed to realize she was unfair to him and part of her annoyance backfired at her. "No, I have to apologize," she admitted. "I shouldn't have..."

"It's alright, Commander," Garrus interrupted her. A superior didn't have to explain themselves or to apologize. He straightened his back, cringing his teeth, and placed his arms behind him. "I should have been more careful. It won't happen again."

"Oh cut the bullshit, Vakarian," Shepard rolled her eyes. Garrus felt his mouth open a little under the surprise but he couldn't say anything. "Go to the medbay," Shepard continued, "I'll wake up Chakwas."

"I'm fine," Garrus repeated, concentrating on something far, far away to keep the pain at bay. He vaguely saw the movement but he wasn't focused at all on the Commander. He received her punch in the ribs, just where her biotics had hit him a minute ago, and Garrus couldn't do anything about it. His chest burned as the air escaped him again, and this time he had to plow and put a hand on the wall to not fall on the ground.

"Yeah, obviously", Shepard snorted. "Medbay, now," she added as she walked to the crew's quarters.

Garrus nodded, incapable of saying anything until some air decided to recolonize his lungs. And he wasn't sure he wouldn't barf if he opened his mouth anyway. Plowed in half, he walked to the medbay, an arm under his ribcage, another against the wall, just in case. He was just sitting on a bed when the door opened again, on a furious doctor wearing her pajamas and a gray sweatshirt with something written on it in blue. Shepard followed, vaguely annoyed. The Commander leaned against a far wall, arms folded, while Chakwas prepared a syringe full of painkillers, Garrus hoped. He wasn't wrong. The blissful chemicals washed off all pain of his system within a second, transporting him to a very well known level of happiness. He had had a lot of painkillers during his time at the hospital after the attack on the Citadel so he had a pretty good idea of what was the good stuff. He totally understood why drug addicts were capable of the worst to get those products. Some part of his brain still alerted him. It reminded him he was walking on the edge of a cliff.

"I cannot auscultate you with your armor on, Mister Vakarian," the good doctor said. Garrus registered it but didn't quite understand the meaning until Chakwas started to undo the seals of his armor. He tried to resist but she moved his hands away. His eyes caught Shepard's anyway and he plunged into those green pools of steal while Chakwas finished removing his upper-body armor. Garrus barely noticed the cool air on his exposed skin and completely forgot he hated to show his body. His scars on his face were impressive already but what he hid under his armor was worse. The missile he deviated with his jaw didn't explode but threw him on the ground nonetheless. Meanwhile, an inferno ammo caught itself in his armor. Again, he was lucky enough for the bullet to fail it jobs. Instead of exploding, it was stopped between two heavy plates and it leaked its inflammable gel, a highly toxic chemical which burned most of Garrus' chest down to the waist during the remaining hours of the attack. He didn't notice, his armor flooding his system with medigel and painkillers, but he would forever remember the long strings of bloody skin and flesh melted to his armor as the doctors removed it hours later. It was impossible to forget.

A sudden pain in his back reminded Garrus where he was. He caught Shepard's green eyes again and stayed focused on them this time. Fuck it if he was disrespectful. He needed an anchor to forget the pain and his own flesh being striped apart.

"Nothing broken," Chakwas announced, coming back in front of him, "but you have three damaged ribs. Well done, Commander." Shepard grunted, looking away. Chakwas took a box of sticky hot compresses in a cabinet and put two on both sides of Garrus. The warmness immediately eased his pain – they must have contained some medigel or something but he couldn't care less at the moment. She prepared another shot but Garrus stopped her, his mind suddenly cleared by a sudden burst of adrenaline.

"Please, no more," he said, his throat tight. Chakwas looked at him for a second and understood, nodding slightly. Those products were highly addictive and they didn't want a junky on board.

"I would recommend a few days of rest," Chakwas continued like nothing had happened, throwing away the syringe in a special container. "Repairing his ribs with bone reconstructing gel wouldn't do much and the process didn't show much benefits on Turians. So he has to rest, until we reach Omega would be the best."

"Duly noted, Doctor," Shepard grunted.

"As for you, Commander," Chakwas said, slightly amused, and Garrus saw his mentor straighten her back as if the Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy suddenly spoke to her, "I'd recommend not to use your biotics into the ship, especially on your own crew and protegee."

"I told you he was standing in front of the elevator and scared the shit out of me!" Shepard said on a tired tone that indicated it wasn't the first time she explained herself.

"The second hit wasn't necessary," Garrus mumbled before he could realize it. He closed his eyes hard, knowing fully he had made a mistake. Damn. He was too used to bitch about everything and had hidden it so far just because he had been really careful. But the drugs eased his mouth and he was now facing a really pissed off Shepard.

"You hit him on purpose?" Chakwas asked, not amused by the situation anymore. "Why on Earth..."

"I just poked him!" Shepard defended herself, throwing her arms in the air. "And he's wearing his armor and he's fine so let's just forget about it, okay? I freaked out, big deal! I'm sor..."

"You don't have to apologize, Commander", Garrus interrupted her. She gave him a mistrusting look as he left the bed to stand on both feet. Breathing hard, he straightened his back and stood at parade rest, eyes somewhere above her head. "The fault was mine, I..."

"Oh for the love of God!" Chakwas sighted, exasperated. "You're idiots, both of you! Cut the turian act, Vakarian, and you, Commander, chill out once in a while! Not everybody in this galaxy wants you dead." She walked straight for the door. Shepard didn't stay in her way and kept an eye on her, like a terrified prey. "I'm going back to bed. Don't wake me up unless someone is really dying this time!"

Silence fell on the medbay after the door closed. Garrus barely breathed, his chest hurting each time his muscles moved. He was keeping his eyes on the wall but he still saw Shepard being uneasy in his field of vision. She shifted from one foot to another, her fingers moving a little. He noticed she was wearing her sport wear again. Maybe she had been on her way for training before the incident. Garrus was silently waiting for her to leave. He didn't want her to witness him griting his teeth at each movement needed to put his armor on again. Her head turned to his direction and she gave a little nod with her chin.

"What happened?"

"Commander?"

"Your chest," she insisted, annoyed, "what happened?"

"Leaking inferno ammo," he answered, his voice as nonchalant as if he was giving her the latest news about the weather.

"I see." Silence took control of the room once again. Please go, Garrus thought. He was starting to notice the cool temperature and a Turian with goosebumps was not a pretty tableau. "I should have told you," Shepard continued, "about my biotics."

Aliens thought Turians hated biotics but it wasn't exactly the case. They were just very cautious with their own biotics. They ostracized those gifted with powers, but it was because people thought biotics weren't trustworthy. Most of them either hid their powers, which was a terrible mistake within a society who made a big deal out of honesty and truth, or accepted their fate and became highly trained assassins in a millennial sect, the Cabal. A few went offworld to become mercenaries but were outcasts nonetheless. Though Turians didn't care much for biotics from other species. What aliens did with their gifted wasn't the Turians' problem.

Maybe Shepard was concerned because her mentor had been very reluctant about her powers. Maybe he didn't trust her, which was a pretty terrible thing to do as a mentor. Garrus shifted slightly his weight, more out of anxiety than anything. He had to choose his words carefully. "I have worked with a few Asaris during my time at C-Sec, Commander, which is far more than most Turians will ever experience. I understand fully the benefits of biotic powers and I do not believe in the tales my people carry. Please, be assured of that."

Shepard seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Good, good," she mumbled. "I know you think your superior doesn't have to apologize ever but I'm sorry," she said really fast to not be interrupted. "I'm not used to wanderers in the mess at four thirty. Legion and EDI know I don't want to be disturbed before the beginning of the day shift so I don't usually see them around, unless there is an emergency." She gave him a quick look. "You okay, Vakarian?"

"Yes, Commander," Garrus answered but something bothered him. The ship's AI, EDI, had known he was in the corridor in front of the elevator, it even alerted him Shepard was coming. Why didn't it notice Shepard of Garrus' presence then?

The medbay door opened on Javik out of his armor, wearing what looked like human sport wear, revealing a lot of skin and toned muscles. He gave a look around, his eyes staying a little longer on Garrus' chest than anything else, but he then turned to face Shepard. "Everything alright, Commander?"

"Peachy," Shepard answered to avoid further questions. "I'm late for training, am I?" Javik simply nodded. "Give me a sec, I'll grab something to eat and I'll be in the cargo bay before you know it." Shepard looked at Garrus and gave him a nod before leaving the medbay. Garrus didn't relax nonetheless, as the room's wide windows gave on the mess.

"Did she hurt you?" Javik asked, his deep grumbling voice surprising Garrus. He didn't expect the Executive Officer to worry about him.

"I'm fit for duty, Sir," Garrus replied automatically. Javik's sets of eyes fell on Shepard, on the right, taking a few energy bars out of a box in a cabinet over the sink. Those eyes carried a lot of thoughts, heavy ones.

"Like Hell you are, Turian," Javik replied, suddenly harsh. "Don't make me regret to have kept you on board and never forget: the airlock is always a deck away."

Garrus gave a salute Javik didn't see because he turned heels immediately after his warning, walking away. He saw Shepard jogging to her XO, a half-wrapped bar of food in her mouth already. Garrus relaxed once he was sure he was alone, but his ribs didn't appreciate the movement. He took his upper-body armor with him and went back to his quarters, slowly.

He noticed activity on crew deck from six but breakfast really started at seven. It gave Garrus a chance to repair his armor but there was definitively a bump on it and the compensators were still damaged. He would need to ask Cortez for spare parts today. Garrus hoped the Lieutenant wouldn't ask him any question.

He made sure his movements were fluids before coming out of Life Support and acted as if nothing had happened. Chakwas wasn't up yet, contrary to most of the crew. Shepard was already sipping a cup of hot beverage at what must have been her usual corner of the table, Javik on her right, both in uniform. Garrus nodded his salutes to them and tried to be civil with Gardner, in hope he wouldn't cook a quarian dish tonight. The Sergeant was pleased and asked him what he usually ate in the morning. But Garrus would have to go with quarian food for now – Gardner had some of what Garrus required in the freezers though, it would be ready the next day. Garrus went to sit at the table with a plate of vegetables with some sort of slimy gray noodles made out of protein past, a small bowl of spicy soup in which something definitively floated, fresh fruits and a cup of the quarian morning beverage, a hot red steaming liquid smelling both spicy and sweet. A human cup.

"Don't be an ass, Sergeant," Shepard shouted as soon as she saw the look on Garrus' face, "and give Vakarian a straw or something." She added for him as Gardner mumbled in his corner: "Sorry, I honestly didn't expect to have a Turian on board for a while and I kinda like to see Nihlus struggle with human tableware."

"Yeah, that's always fun to see Mister Badassest of the Badasses split his coffee all over the table," Beard-Face said from the other side of the table. "Teach him some humility." Garrus frowned a little. That was kind of racist.

"Nihlus doesn't like my choice of career," Shepard explained. "For him, a Spectre should work alone, or with another Spectre, not on board a ship with a crew."

"Doesn't stop him to take the Normandy for a cab," the Krogan snorted. "I bet he'll call you soon to check on your baby-Spectre."

Baby-Spectre? It took Garrus a lot of self-control to not give a cold look to the Krogan. He stared straight in front of him instead, which probably frightened a little the male engineer. Shepard turned to Joker, dead serious.

"Yes, I may have referred to our newest family member as 'baby-Spectre' after dinner", the pilot admitted, hands up in the air, "guilty as charged, Commander, but you have to admit it's catchy, right?"

Shepard then turned to Garrus. "You have my permission to give him a stupid nickname."

"Already done, Commander," Garrus replied, still focusing on Donnely. A genuine sparkle of interest lightened Shepard's eyes behind her cup. Garrus obliged. "It's Beard-Face." Shepard laughed, splitting her beverage on the table, and Traynor approximately had the same reaction. That meant she probably spoke Kaladran, what other species referred as common turian. The English word beard was similar in pronunciation as the name of an ugly, furry and stinky little animal on Palaven, an inoffensive scavenger which liked to eat until it passed out, its belly full of rotting meat. Beerrd was also slang for someone with bad hygiene and manners.

"What?" the pilot asked. He turned around as Garrus started to eat his breakfast, struggling to keep his face straight. "I don't get it. Why is it funny? Is it because beards are hilarious for Turians?" The Quarian shrugged. Shepard had troubles stopping to laugh, her cheeks a bright red and her eyes all wet with tears. Garrus felt pretty good about himself. Gardner finally arrived with the straw. Garrus extended his arm to take it, his injury forgotten, and the movement provoked a burst of pain in his chest. It was noticed by the rest of the crew. Beard-Face jumped on the occasion. "Not a day on board and already injured, Vakarian?" he said with a smirk. "I thought all Turians were tough guys impermeable to pain." Garrus frowned.

"Enough with that," Shepard interrupted, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I wanted to see what he was made of so we had a few rounds earlier. Can't say it was a piece of cake to get him to open his guard but you know me, I don't go easy on people." Most of the crew nodded thoroughly, apparently knowing very well what Shepard was capable of. Garrus looked at her. She had lied without a second thought, either to not admit her mistake, or to protect him. Either way, he didn't like it. He nodded to her nonetheless because she probably wanted him to look grateful for the explanation. Shepard gave him a little smile behind her cup. She finished it in two gulps, chin up, and put the cup back on the table. "You heard the doc, Vakarian. Take it easy until we reach Omega. Use that time to catch up with my current long-term missions, alright? Liara, Tali, Traynor, EDI and Legion, I count on you to help him on that." She stood up. "Oh and learn English while you're at it."

"I thought he was a Spectre," Williams snorted, "not a bookworm."

"Thank you for volunteering for giving Vakarian English lessons, Williams," Shepard replied. The ex-soldier grunted. "Just don't bore him to death with your poetry."

"Aye aye, Commander."

"I'll be around if you need me."

"Catching up with old reports to write, Commander?" Beard-Face asked with a smirk as Shepard walked to the elevator.

"You want to keep your leather chair, Joker?" she shouted back over her shoulder. The pilot pouted.

"I can help you with English," Lieutenant Top Model told Garrus while Javik was leaving the table too.

"Oh please, Alenko," Williams snorted.

"What?"

"You're Canadian," she replied, easing herself on her chair. She had a wicked little smile on her full lips. There was something between them, Garrus could tell – though he had no idea what a Canadian was but her tone was clearly sorry.

"Kenneth should teach him," the female engineer intervened. "If Vakarian can understand his accent, he'll have no trouble at all with any other Human ever."

"Very funny," Donnelly replied, forcing his accent. "I'm second place in this contest anyway." He pointed the Quarian with his chin, smiling at her. Her purple mask certainly diminished the cold look she gave him back.

"At least I speak more than one language," she said, her steamy cup with a straw in hand. She shared an understanding look with the non-human crew members around the table while the others protested. She included Garrus. It was odd to be acknowledged by a Quarian considering the way Turians tended to treat them. Maybe it didn't have any kind of importance on board of the Normandy. Garrus hid his smile with a fork full of noodles. It was odd but it felt good.

TBC