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Chapter 4

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Garrus pressed together a few missed snaps on his shirt before beginning to collect the scattered pieces of his armour. He had tried to clean up their mess, re-stacking containers and wiping away the spots of blue and red blood off the floor, but still their scents remained. He stared, transfixed, at the spot where only minutes earlier he and Shepard had been locked together in primal ecstasy. This cargo hold had been witness to human-turian cross species relations that would have horrified members of both races.

His talons twitched in want as he was reminded of her sensuous flesh; the way she fit against him, the pale eyelids, closed in concentration…

Spirits, what had he just done to his Commanding officer? Inappropriate wasn't even the word. She had instigated it right? Wait, no. He tried to think. Anger, no fear, had swept him into a fit of insubordination planet side and he had known she was working hard not to knock some sense into him with the butt of her gun. They had been so furious with each other…. and then…. At what moment had the emotional switch been flicked and turned their toxic rage into mind altering lust?

Touching the silver grey plates of his cheek, he ran a talon over the red blood that was beginning to dry. In his mind he pictured the blue blood on her finger tips, her expression intense as she smeared his life across her face. He shivered, his lower plates shifting as he revisited the arousing images that were permanently burned into his mind. There was no way he would be able to process this right now. Too much had happened in such a short time. One moment they were yelling at each other, and then next they were moaning each others' names.

Whatever he had once imagined might happen between them, what unlikely passing thoughts he had entertained - none of them had turned out like this. With some reluctance, he scrubbed the blood from his face with the torn shirt Shepard had left in her open locker. He tossed it back in, shut the door and pressed his face against it, leaning heavily against the cool metal.

She was clearly ignorant to the significance of their actions.

Fuck.

You dishonourable idiot, he thought angrily. She had no idea what you were doing. And she's going to bend your fringe back and ram it up your nose when she finds out. He was waging an inner war with himself now. Hadn't he tried to tell her right after it happened? Hadn't he tried to explain and she had dismissed him?

Should he even tell her? Spirits, he had marked her, and she wasn't his mate or his whore.

He pushed himself away from the lockers with a frustrated sigh and made for the exit.

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That first day seemed so long ago. The memories were soft and delicate like the fraying edges of his family's oldest bound book of lineage. His father, carefully turning the pages for him, his small talons resting nervously on the edge of the desk. 'When I am gone, this will be yours to show to your children, so they can know the honourable fathers and mothers they came from.' The spine cracked and protested as the names and dates floating by the young turian's blue eyes…

Garrus sat hunched over his desk in C-Sec. Sure, he had a good job and he worked hard, but there was so much damn bureaucracy. The system seemed to be designed with loop holes specifically to let the biggest assholes in the galaxy escape punishment. He had always been warned that it was generally frowned upon to investigate Spectres, and that's probably why he was doing just that. Always rebelling, even at work. His dad was right; he took after mom more than him.

A dark faced turian C-Sec officer wandered over to Garrus' desk. He gave the workspace the once over before crossing his arms. "How's the case going?"

The seated turian grunted without looking up.

"Wow, that bad?" The other officer leaned casually against Garrus' desk. Spirits, this guy pissed him off. Kolanos was so lazy, always wandering around talking to people and leaving early. Garrus could honestly say he'd never seen the turian do any actual work. Not for the first time, he found himself clamping his mouth shut to stop from asking 'Just what exactly do you do here you crooked fringed, barefaced bastard?' Instead, Garrus made a non committal sound in his throat.

Oblivious, Kolanos looked over his shoulder at Garrus, who was trying desperately to ignore him. "That new human officer brought in dextro donuts again." He misinterpreted the seated turian's frustrated sigh. "I know, he's trying so hard it's sad. Wonder if all human food is that sweet. Barf – oh hey, speaking of which, did you hear they're talking about appointing a human Spectre?"

"Humans have been demanding that for ages," Garrus mumbled.

"Yeah, but I think they've finally got someone worthwhile lined up."

"Oh?" Garrus glanced up from his work, for once somewhat interested in what this mindless knob had to say.

"Yeah. Nihlus is checking out the candidate as we speak."

Nihlus, that whore. He might be an esteemed spectre, but his charm had gotten him into more than a few situations that were now making the rounds as amusing anecdotes around the meal dispenser. There was a long list of broken hearts and soiled sheets attached to that agent's file. Life of a spectre, people always said - it didn't leave room for long term love or sustained relationships. Still, he just couldn't justify or even understand the necessity to sleep with as many females as possible. If this human spectre candidate was a woman, she better not have a fetish for turians, because Nihlus sure didn't have any reservations about bedding non-dextros.

"Human…" Leaning back in his chair Garrus rubbed his mandibles thoughtfully. "I guess it makes sense. They've been pushing hard for a while now."

Kolanos raised his arms in a gesture of frustration. "Sounds like trouble, don't you think? I mean, humans are pretty emotional, not to mention individualistic and unbearably curious. Sticking their pointy noses in everything…"

Garrus turned his chair away from his desk, the toes of his boots wiggling as he stretched his legs. "Who is this human?"

The other turian thought for a moment. "Oh Uhhh, Commander Shepard, I think. There is a file, but I haven't read it. Probably some idealistic, military hot head."

Garrus cocked his head to the side. "Why does that name sound familiar to me... " Answers escaping him, he considered looking it up, but he had work to do. Shaking the thought away he shrugged and turned back to his work. His next words were spoken into the datapad in his hands. "Hopefully the council will have chosen this... Commander Shepard... for the right reasons. Maybe he'll get something done."

The other C-Sec officer scoffed, pushing himself away from Garrus' desk. "How often do they actually do anything for the right reasons?" Kolanos asked over his shoulder as he waved a hand in farewell and wandered off.

A human Spectre. Garrus couldn't deny his curiosity had been piqued. If this Commander Shepard was going to become a Spectre, then he'd have to be proactive and take a look at his file before it became classified.

Correction, her file. His brow plates twitched infinitesimally as he scrolled through the data. Human female, N7 Alliance military, of course, distinguished service and achievements. They were similar in age and he couldn't help but compare her impressive accomplishments with his own. It would have been easy to resent her for her outstanding record, but instead he found himself wanting to meet this human female. He scrolled down a little farther - no family, colonist. He frowned as he read the circumstances of her childhood. Back at the top, he looked at her picture. Her eyes stared back at him from her Alliance portrait. There was something about her. A potential ally perhaps?

Voices out in the hallway distracted him from the datapad in his hands.

"...attack on the human colony of Eden Prime and the death of council spectre Nihlus Kryik…." Garrus sat up in his chair and listened more closely. "There is a witness claiming Saren was there ...and supposedly there were geth everywhere."

"Hey Garrus, you better come see this…"

The humans were going to be out for blood after this

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With as much casualness as he could muster, Garrus wandered off the elevator and into the mess hall. It was dinner time, of course, and there were more people loitering around than usual. Gardner had seen him turn the corner and was immediately reaching for the turian meal he had ready for him. Garrus had half a mind to just rush past everyone, but damn it, he was starving - and as far as he could tell, no one seemed to be the wiser about what had happened earlier.

Dragging himself over to the counter island, he leaned heavily across from where the older man was waiting.

"Well holy shit Vakarian, looks like the Commander let you out alive after all!" The mess sergeant let out a harsh laugh, "hearing all that commotion down there we thought for sure one of you was coming out on a stretcher."

Garrus kept his mandibles tight, trying to evaluate the situation. He could feel the whole room turn its attention to him, and unlike all the other times he had strode past this human audience, he was now struck with a horrifying uneasiness. He had to remind himself that most of these humans would have no experience gauging turian facial expressions – he hoped anyway.

To his relief, it sounded like everyone thought he and Shepard had been fighting, so he decided to run with that.

"I think we sorted out our differences," he spoke carefully. "I'm sure it sounded worse than it really was."

"Who came out on top?" The voice came from the table behind him, and Garrus froze. What kind of question was that? Who had come out on top? They had both spent time on top. Not helping, Vakarian.

Turning slowly, he looked at the eager faces of the dining crew. When he didn't answer right away, one of the bridge crew chimed in, "A few people want to settle some bets I think."

Garrus gave an inward sigh of relief. Unnatural cross species, deviant sexual act with resurrected superior officer aboard a pro human organization's vessel… still a secret? Check. Perhaps he would escape the angry mob long enough for them to miss their chance to break his leg spurs and leave him for the varren.

"Well, the Commander always comes out on top," he said, wondering afterwards if it sounded too suggestive. The crowd seemed to consider this for a moment and, as if agreeing all at once that this was the most information there were likely to get, they erupted in chatter amongst themselves. Omni tools appeared, followed by a few raised voices. Catastrophe averted, Garrus thought proudly to himself and he turned back to the mess sergeant.

"Uh hunh, well, you look like hell," the man observed as he passed the turian the plate of food, which smelled surprisingly good. "And you might want to get that looked at," he added, pointing. Garrus, distracted by his rumbling stomach, looked from the plate to the human a few times, trying to process his hunger and the man's words simultaneously. It wasn't working. The human gave a few sideways glances to see if anyone was watching and then he casually touched his own neck. Garrus' felt his left mandible quiver.

Spirits, the bite on my neck. Her teeth were so dull, he had doubted anyone could see it.

The turian's eyes widened and he nodded quickly, muttering something about calibrations as he tried to make a hasty exit. But as he made to leave, he looked back at the food, hesitated, then grabbed it and headed for the main battery. Maybe he wasn't going to escape that mob after all.

He reached the end of the rows of sleeping pods, and as the main battery doors closed swiftly behind him, he slumped against the closest bulkhead, the tray of food still in his hands. Things were quickly becoming very, very complicated. Looking at his plate of food and then around at the now familiar small work space, he decided he really didn't want to spend the rest of his evening there.

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Catastrophe. That's why he'd grabbed the datapad. It had nothing on it, but damned if he was going to walk around the ship with an open invitation for queries that empty hands seemed to mean to every human he passed. Garrus had discovered that the more crap you were carrying, the less likely human's would stop to talk to you.

"Vakarian."

Shit. It was always when he was waiting for the elevator. Only twenty minutes and the mess hall had calmed down enough for him to drop off his plate, grab a bottle of additive water and sneak away. His plan had him make a casual sprint for the elevator, hit deck one and be home free.

But catastrophe had appeared, and she was asking him questions, even though his hands were full! Couldn't she see his hands were full?

"Heading up to the CIC?" The dark haired woman's voice was cool and casual - predictable.

"What business is it of yours?"

"Everything that happens on this ship is my business," Miranda answered emphatically, her critical eyes studying him. Garrus' gaze remained on the elevator door, keeping the mark on his neck out of sight. This woman was the very last person he ever wanted to see, no matter what the situation. Now he was certain he'd rather be chewing broken glass.

"Well good for you. I have to drop this datapad off to the Commander," the answered, trying to sound disinterested. The very doors to heaven had opened and he moved to step into the elevator to escape Miranda's prying.

"Maybe I'll join you."

Garrus raised the hand holding the datapad up against the edge of the open elevator door. "And maybe you won't."

Miranda's eyebrows rose. "Tell me what happened in the cargo hold," she demanded. Her hands were on her waist and she nearly spat the words at him.

Garrus cocked his head and said with forced surprise, "you mean you're the only one that doesn't know?" Evading, what else could he do? Miranda was becoming obviously agitated, and the turian was finding it less threatening and more than a little amusing.

"You spoke to Shepard and that was great," she began, "but kicking the shit out of our Commander is not good for the mission."

"I didn't kick the shit out of her." That was a fairly honest answer, he told himself.

"I don't want any trouble Vakarian."

"Neither do I, 'Larson'"

"It's 'Laws-" and the elevator doors closed behind him. He had dodged another bullet. Two for two, that wasn't bad at all.

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The doors to the captain's cabin slid open and closed. Shepard paused at the top of the stairs as she regarded the pair of large two toed boots sitting neatly beside the couch. A quick survey of her quarters revealed an empty bottle on the table, a blank datapad, and a box that looked suspiciously like it came from the med bay. In the corner of the couch was the dark silhouette of a turian, his hand loosely clutching his visor, fast asleep.

Shepard slid off her own shoes and quietly removed her uniform. Having been back earlier to shower, she simply pulled on some loose shorts and a tank top. She had never been one to walk around her quarters in the nude. The cold surfaces, the door that crew always seemed to be letting themselves in through, not to mention that giant window, all good reasons for clothes. But the sleeping anomaly in her room… maybe that was a good reason for no clothes.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she studied the unconscious figure on her couch. She listened to the soft purr of his breaths, watched the way his mandibles twitched in his sleep like a dog's legs when it's chasing a squirrel through the foggy forests of its dreams.

Trying to get any work done after their encounter in the cargo hold was a joke. She'd been thinking about it considerably, and constantly. She'd always had a soft spot for Garrus, but in the past she had always seen him as young, impressionable - her responsibility. He wasn't at all like that now.

She didn't have the heart to wake him, so she quietly picked up the box on the table and opened it. She looked at the two injectors, the small container of cream. Sure enough she checked her messages at her desk and found that Mordin had sent her a detailed description of the contents in the box and their intended use. God, if Mordin knew… did that mean the whole crew knew?

It really was small ship.

She took the container of cream and returned to the table to grab the datapad before crawling into the already warmed sheets of her bed. Ah, the luxuries of private sector design - adjustable bed temperatures. Sniffing the clear gel in the container, she deemed is safe and began rubbing a small amount across the wounds on her shoulder. The pads of her fingers paused against the small craters left by his teeth. Images replayed in her mind – hot breath, sharp claws, unchecked aggression and passion exploding in a frantic drive for release.

She had never been into crazy rough alien sex, so what had caused her to take such a detour at this point in her life? Or maybe buying that issue of Fornax had been a mistake.

Unconsciously pulling her legs together, Shepard made herself comfortable against a few piled pillows and set the cream aside. She picked up the datapad in front of her. There was nothing on it... strange. Why would he have brought this with him?

She pulled up the extranet search history and felt her eye brows rise. Human courting practices, human male behaviour, human sexual practices, human bonding, human clan initiation, human marriage, human turian bonding... A note of anxiety rose within her. She looked back to the sleeping figure on her couch. He had certainly been busy the past two hours.

What had happened in the cargo hold was... well what was it? She had NEVER felt passion like that for any of her human lovers. Was it the danger? Or maybe it was the eroticism of engaging in an act considered taboo and deviant for their species to participate in together? Or maybe it was just Garrus. She had done things with him that she had never and probably would never do with a human lover - blood play, border line sadomasochism, even just the pleading and screaming in ecstasy wasn't her usual MO. Sex used to satisfy the old Commander Shepard in a beginning and end sort of way. It never left her a begging, screaming slave to her own pleasure. There had been something about the raw passion, the complete surrender to need, no walls, no pretending - just blind exposed lust.

Shepard felt her cheeks burning and she smiled to herself. Maybe she should do a little research of her own.

-turian mating practices-

The first article, written by a salarian doctor, seemed promising enough. Skimming over the sentences, she paused when a few words caught her attention: 'differences between casual sex and bond mating... turians, while usually considered very professional and held to their strict code of honour, can easily lose control of themselves while engaged in sexual encounters. While mating is emotional and hormonally driven, turians are also compelled by a strong desire to dominate a worthy mate...'

Her work day had been long, and though her mind was willing, her eyes were beginning to droop as she skimmed a little farther along '...biting usually only occurs between bond mates... casual sex for turians is based entirely on reaching a purely physical climatic release and does not involve joining, and generally not biting (unless knowingly used as a form of punishment or control). This typically due to the lack of necessary stimuli. The correct combination of emotional, physical and consensual mating signals must exist for a bond mate response. If a turian female is uninterested in the coital advances of a potential bond mate she prevents biting, and thus prevents joining... Bond mating usually occurs after the completion of the turian practice of Aptus Vita and clan or family acceptance. Typically mated for life, turians are often cautious about relationships where a partner already bares the marks of another, as this can lead to inappropriate public aggression and is widely regarded as dishonourable...'

So which was it? Was she a whore he was able to mar, or was it something else? He had never treated her with anything but respect and general professionalism. The alternative seemed almost as unsettling.

She had read enough. Dropping the datapad on her lap, she stared at her sleeping turian lover. He looked so peaceful, the scarred side of his face hidden against the cushions. It reminded her of how he had looked years earlier; young, idealistic, and so eager to change the galaxy. She had found him endearing, charming, someone who she felt compelled to converse and share with. If she was going to be honest with herself the idea of them together had crossed her mind, even back then. The metallic alien skin, the sharp edges and intense eyes, it all seemed mysterious and appealing to her. But at the time she knew it would have disrupted the crew, and she felt a certain responsibility to provide Garrus with the knowledge and leadership he seemed so desperate for at the time. Ordering him to strip and please her would have been wrong on so many levels… maybe not all levels… definitely not all levels.

But that was then. He had caught up to her in the past two years, and now they seemed to be looking eye to eye - at least enough for him to start challenging her on missions.

All this new information had left her mind spinning. That article made it sound like they hadn't just had a wild bout of passionate sex. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like they were now involved on some really serious level, at least by turian standards. A sliver of anger touched her mood. If she were honest with herself, they hardly knew anything about each other. She knew him, but she didn't really know anything about him – he was a complete enigma. They had only really talked about the times they had spent together. Where on Palaven was he from? When was his birthday? Did he have any siblings? All first date crap they had totally missed. Why had he felt he had the right to move their relationship in a direction she had no way to predict or understand, and without any warning?

It wasn't entirely distasteful, but it was fast. Something was going on, but she needed time to process everything, so she made the decision to play the ignorance card and not mention her research. If Garrus wanted to come forward with some sort of explanation, then he would do it when he was ready.

That was if he was even planning on explaining any of this to her.

Shepard yawned, rubbing the base of her palms across her eye brows. Glancing down at her shoulder she gave it a tentative roll. Much of the redness had faded and the bites had lost their tenderness.

Tired eyes took in a few more lines on the datapad before it was tossed onto the other side of the bed. Curling up on her side, those last few words drifted through Shepard's mind as she closed her eyes, 'Turians attach a great deal of meaning and emotion to smells, the ones valued most those of their mate and their children.'

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"... Your investigation is over."

Pallin was being a fool. Saren was guilty, and Garrus knew it.

The executor walked away and Garrus turned, only to come face to face with the human female he had been reading about just a few hours earlier. He could feel her sizing him up before she stopped in front of him. The nicks and scuffs on her armour a testament to its use, each one a battle survived, a point proven. Light caught on a scraped edge on her shoulder and he found himself blinking hard in momentary blindness. She studied him with her large human eyes, their deep penetrating green like the ferns that mapped the dark Palaven shade.

So strong. Her movements spoke of the strength of her muscles, the fluidity of each action communicating toned and trained limbs. He had been going over and over in his mind what he would say to her, something that would get her on his side. If she was going to become a Spectre, they might be able to take down Saren together.

He had straightened up out of habit in the presence of a superior.

"Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian..."

Their exchange was brief, her human companions hurrying her on to see the council. She had been professional, but she definitely seemed interested in his investigation. He watched the three humans disappear up the stairs. Certainly he must have made an impression. If he could join forces with a Spectre... his mandibles flared, he was getting ahead of himself.

He could hear angry voices echo in the council chambers; Saren's voice, and then her voice. Waiting, he listened for a few moments. Of course they wouldn't believe her, she was just a human. One of the guards on duty gave him a long look, and Garrus knew he was over staying his welcome. Descending the stairs to the elevator, he formulated his next move. He was going to have to break this case wide open and come up with some evidence if they were going to have a fighting chance at stopping that mad turian spectre.