I sat down in the dining area and waited.

Not too long ago Shepard and Miranda had stormed past with Garrus atop a floating stretcher; blue blood soaked the gauze covering his face.

I remember in the games Shepard had been pretty worried that he would die and now I knew why. Even having not seen anything up close, I could tell it wasn't pretty. He had taken a missile to the face after all.

"Hang in there, Garrus," Shepard had said. "I didn't come back from the dead to have you die on me."

Chakwas met them just outside the elevator and was already sticking needles in the Turian before they had even made it through the medbay doors.

The party had disappeared into the medbay, but I could still see through the glass as Chakwas got straight to it; gloves on guiding complex machines as they descended on the unconscious turian.

Shepard waited nearby, channeling her concern into frustrated pacing.

Miranda quickly deduced that she would be no help on an alien species and seemed to suggest that Shepard leave and let Chakwas work. Moments later the pair exited the medbay Miranda telling Shepard to change and meet in the conference room in an hour for a debrief. Shepard nodded and started for the elevator when she noticed me sitting wide-eyed at the dining table.

I tried to smile and raised a hand in greeting. Shepard paused, her worry morphing momentarily to surprise.

Her pause gave me a chance to check out her battle gear and, my god, the N7 armour is glorious in person. She looked incredibly imposing, the bulk of the reinforced ablative plating accentuating the strength of her frame and adding and an extra 2 inches to her height; although, the blood smears were more unsettling than awe-inspiring.

Shepard didn't hang around to chat, shaking her head and heading back to the elevator. She probably just wanted a shower to wash off all that sweat and blood.

On the other hand, Miranda straight up strode across the hall to her office, probably dying to finish that paperwork that had been so rudely interrupted.

"Looks like my medical will have to wait then," I called as she walked by.

Miranda barely spared me a glance. "Looks like it."

"Shall I return to my room, or stay here?"I half stood to follow her, but no response came so I took that as a do as you please, I don't care right now.

I sat back down at the table and started thinking out my next move. At least I would have if I was alone on the crew deck.

"Who're you?"

I'd forgotten about Mess Sergeant Gardner.

"I'm the stowaway," I said back, twisting in my chair to look at the older man.

"Stowaway got a name?" he said.

"Jaime."

Gardner grunted and went back to wiping his counter.

"Any particular reason you're still on board?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Comedic relief?"

Gardner scoffed in that gruff way of his and started pulling out trays from beneath the counter.

I stood from my chair and wandered over. The trays were full of vegetables and other assorted ingredients, including some I didn't recognise. Gardner had procured a knife and a potato peeler and had started on a pile of what appeared to be green carrots.

"Mind if I make myself useful?" I said, holding out a hand for a utensil.

Gardner eyed me for a moment. "You any good with a knife?" he asked.

"I used to help my mum all the time," I said. "And I like to be useful."

"Well, in that case you can start by peeling these potatoes," Gardner dumped a large tray full of the bulbous roots on the counter in front of me and set about chopping his green carrots.

I spoke with the Mess Sergeant for quite a while about how food on board the Normandy worked. I would have thought that machines or 3D printers just glooped ingredients together and spat out ready made meals for the crew with minimum effort from the chef, but it was actually a bit more traditional. Meals were cooked enmass then stored in a way similar to that fancy, french vacuum-packing thing until they were eaten. When supplies ran low, ingredients were purchased and meal prep took place right there on the Normandy.

"That's not standard on other ships though, right?" I asked, now chopping my pile of peeled potatoes into bite-sized chunks. "I can't imagine that this is very cost effective."

"It isn't," Gardner nodded. "But this is a Cerberus vessel after all. It's not five star, but it's better than anything the alliance has to offer that's for sure."

I suppose that's true. Cerberus does seem like the kind of organisation to give their employees the best. Though I did get a little sceptical of the Mess Sergeant's cooking ability when he began throwing strange herbs hap-hazardly into the large stew pot we were working on.

"What's that stuff?" I asked when he started shovelling in a bright orange spice that smelt suspiciously like turmeric and cinnamon.

"Something to add a bit of flavour," he said. "Admittedly it's not the nicest flavour, but it beats a tasteless stew."

I wasn't so sure about that, but I left him to it.

Gardner and I had just finished packing away the food and utensils when the medbay doors opened and Garrus Vakarian strolled out.

He had glanced toward me on his way to the conference room, all 6 plus feet of him with bandaged mandibles. His eyes lingered, assessing my decidedly not Cerberus appearance with curiosity before disappearing around the corner.

I'd barely had time to take in his appearance, but he somehow seemed so much more alien than I had expected.

Gardner sent me a look and said, "Just wait 'til you meet the Enkindler."

I scrunched my nose at the memory of those seedy magazines you can buy in game and shook my head. "I think I'll start slow for now."

Not much later, when Gardner and I were packaging the meals to be frozen, Miranda walked out of her office. She heard us talking and paused.

"Making yourself at home, I see," she said.

"Don't worry, I haven't attempted to poison the crew," I said. "Gardner's doing just fine on that front."

The Mess Sergeant grumbled, swatting at me with a dishcloth. I gave a laugh and dodged away to other side of the counter.

"Don't worry, Operative Lawson," said Gardner. "I've been keeping an eye on her."

Miranda gave a curt nod and turned on her heel, continuing on her way.

When she was out of earshot I smirked at Gardner as I pitched a thumb in the direction of the retreating Operative. "We are going to be best friends," I said.

Now it was Gardner's turn to laugh. "Good luck with that."

Despite my own smiling exterior, I had to agree. Everything on this ship was way out of my depth. There were no dialogue options to help me find the right words to say, and no paragon interrupts for me to hit so I did the right thing. It was up to me, the girl with no street-smarts, to come up with an answer to an impossible equation.

Thanks to my help, kitchen duties were finished earlier than usual. Gardner finally put away his dishcloth and stretched out his back with a groan.

"Thank you for your help, stowaway," he said. "It's rare for me to get a reasonable amount of down time."

"Anytime," I said with my trademark grin.

"Careful what your say. I might take you up on that." Gardner barked a dry laugh as I cringed and started for the crew quarters. "I'm going to go read," he said. "You can do whatever, I don't care."

Huh, okay then. So much for keeping an eye on me.

I walked over to the elevator and was pleasantly surprised to find I could activate the call button. A few moments later the button lit up green and the door cycled open revealing the towering alien form of the Archangel, Garrus Vakarian.

Bloody hell. I was not mentally prepared for this.

"H-Hello," I stuttered out. Idiot. What the hell was that?

"Hello," came the reply. It sounded garbled, like he was underwater; maybe because I didn't have a translator? Garrus (actual Garrus!) watched me with bird-like interest. I could see flecks of blue blood in his news scars, the feather like plates cracked and barely holding together. His sunken, yellow eyes flitted over me before he stepped past and headed for the gun battery. My body finally started moving and I awkwardly stumbled away from the elevator and watched him walk along the gangway between the sleep pods.

God, this whole experience has me like a starstruck groupie.

Just as he got to the doors, Garrus looked over his shoulder and caught me staring and… was that a wink? I do not remember Garrus being that cheeky. I'm not sure if he blinked and I perceived it as a wink because I could only see half of his face, or if it was an actual wink. It did not help that I had romanced him in my last run through of the series.

I stepped back and got into the elevator. I stared blankly at the number panel and tried to make my brain form a cohesive thought. I briefly considered just going back to my room so I didn't have any more chances to run into other people. I'm not sure my heart could take another run in like that.

Just as I was about to hit the button for engineering, the CIC button lit up at the elevator began to move. I suppressed a groan and let it happen; big ship, lots of busy people, only one elevator. My hesitation had cost me my chance at solitude.

Moments later, the doors opened and I got my first glimpse of the combat centre and the galaxy map. Kelly Chambers was over at her computer and in the distance I could just make out the back of Joker's baseball cap in the bridge, but more immediately, Shepard was in front of me, waiting for me to get out of the elevator.

After a moment of blank staring, she raised a brow andasked, "You getting out?"

I blinked at her. "Ah, no. I was slow to hit the Engineering button so now I'm here."

Shepard gave a chuckle. "That happens more often than you think," she said. She stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the Crew Deck. The doors slid closed once more and I promised myself that I'd check out the CIC more thoroughly later; when all the culture shock died down a bit.

"When are you going to get the Professor?" I asked after a moment. It was still so surreal seeing her in person: doing normal people things like ride elevators. Mind you, you spend a tonne of time in the games watching Shepard ride elevators, so maybe it wasn't that surreal. You get the idea.

Shepard sent me a sidewards glance. "We plan to head out in a few hours."

That was quick. "That's quick," I said.

"Thanks to your heads up about the mercs after Garrus, that mission went faster than expected," Shepard explained. She turned to me fully and watched me closely. "Got anything on this next guy?"

Well that was unexpected to say the least; shepard was already asking me for intel on missions. I had expected this to happen eventually, but not before I had properly established my character in this world. Was she testing me?

The doors opened on the Crew Deck and I thought for a moment. "Keep an eye out for looters and be prepared to deal with Krogan and Vorcha," I said.

"That's it?"

I shrugged. I remember flamethrowers and activating ventilation systems, but it was a straightforward mission and nothing could really be changed or tackled differently.

"Nothing stands out for this one," I said as I hit the Engineering button.

Shepard's hand shot out and stopped the door. "You warned me about missiles," she said.

She heard me? "I did?" I said.

Shepard leant in closer. "How did you know?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

I almost told her. Almost. I clenched my teeth and said nothing. Shepard just stood there, holding the door and staring me down. My breathing was becoming erratic and I looked away. Finally, the Commander stepped away and let go out the door.

I glanced back up at her and she maintained eye contact as the doors slid closed.

What the hell was that?

Authors Notes: In honour of my birthday today you can have this chapter early! (It's back to Wednesday's next week though!)

In other news, I'm currently interning at a marketing company, and every time I write something for them I ask myself, "How many lies can I get away with today?"

Don't forget to tell me what you think!