As promised, I am working hard to get these out as quickly as possible. Reviews inspire me to write faster, you know. So if you like the story, and want to see more... Review!

Spelling, Grammar, and any other mistakes must be forgiven. I have no beta!

Positive love general humor in this chapter. Mostly. :-p

Oh, and because I have not said it before... I own nothing from Mass Effect or Mass Effect 2, the makers of the game, the characters of the game, or the Reapers no matter how bad ass it would be to have a pet Reaper.

Garrus' Apartment: Citadel 06:12

"I don't expect an explanation," he heard Shepard say as he snapped the leg plates of his armor into place. "Without the say of of the Council, you are not getting on board my ship. I don't care if it's Cerberus tech, it is not being used for those reasons."

Eyes following her as she stalked across the room, already in full armor herself and ready to be Commander Shepard again, Garrus watched as she ran her hand through her hair aimlessly before releasing a low sigh. "Look, I would let you on board under normal circumstances. This is nothing about me trying to hide secrets, and I would be more than happy to have EDI transfer every bit of tech we have to your database, but we are leaving dock in less than two hours. There is not enough time for you have a team of engineers picking through systems that have just been repaired to begin with."

Not even trying to hold back his grin as he locked his gloves into place, the turian pulled himself up from the bed to stand beside her as she turned a pained look towards him. It wasn't real pain, while he might have mistaken it for such before he had met Shepard, but melodramatic pain that he understood to mean she wanted to reach through her communicator and choke the person on the other end. It wasn't that which drew his attention the most, however. Commander Shepard was back. She was back, but without the listless sense of crushing weight uncertainty she had carried from the moment the Collector base had been destroyed.

No, there was fire in her eyes now. The same fire he had seen when she had passionately explained that she would stop Saren, defeat the Reapers, no matter what the cost. Back in the days when he had been stunned to find that, even when she would have given anything to reach her goal she had still maintained a level of honor and lawfulness that had left many who had met her with more respect for the Specters than they had ever felt before. Back in the days when a Reaper had fallen on her head, and she had limped out with a broken arm and a few dozen bruises but alive against all odds.

That fire, that life was there now as she ended the call with some human admiral or another. A curt agreement that when they next docked, the techs could have free run of the Normandy as long as nothing was changed ended the conversation and she cut the link before blue eyes rested on him. Her stance was that of his Commander. Her eyes were those of his mate, with a totally different sort of fire. One likely born from the fact that she was still walking with a bit of a limp.

"I wonder if anyone will notice that," he commented, trying to keep the most absent and unconcerned tone of voice he could manage as he played at adjusting his armor while watching her with twitching mandibles.

"You are aware that we're on duty again, Officer Vakarian," she stated in an almost all business tone, holding just enough of an edge of humor to it to let him know that she was open to more playing. They were not actually on duty until they reached the Normandy. Everything in between now and then was fair game.

"Of course, Commander." Playing along in his own way, his stance changing to stiff Turian military ease; hands clasped behind his back, head tilted upward slightly with his mandibles kept neatly against his jaw. Choosing the keep his comment on how her eyes travels over him when he did this to himself, he kept his eyes straight ahead like any good soldier. "Shall I begin by debriefing you on the events of last night? There were some spots where I wasn't sure I would make it."

Because they were alone, the hint of a blush that started to come over her crept up in only a light shade on her cheeks and she managed to keep a straight face as she walked towards him. One hand ran along the armor that covered his chest, and as he struggled to remain still, the turian was more than aware of the fact that her hand wandered down further than it should have. Even if the armor prevented him from feeling anything at all in that area, the implication of what he could feel her doing made him shift a bit in place. "Maybe later, solider. We can go over the events of our shower next time we're off duty."

He knew that she was trying to get a rise out of him, and he was surprised that he was able to keep his face impassive when he turned his eyes to her. Holding strict control, as tightly as possible because having an erection inside of heavy battle armor was not at all comfortable. "Which time? I seem to remember ending up in the shower three times."

His mandibles finally relaxed into a grin when she smirked at him, moving her hand once more to pat him on the chest twice before she backed away slightly. "That's not my fault. I seem to have a weakness for hot alien men soaking wet and growling in my ear. I'm allowed my vices."

If anyone was allowed a vice or two, he figured it would be her. His head cocked to the side in an almost bird like manor for a moment as the two of them shared a grin before he dropped the militaristic act and stepped over to the far wall to retrieve his rifle. The fact that he had a mount on the wall for various types of weapons had not been a surprise to her. The fact that there was an image of her on the table below that rack had been, given the fact that he had not returned to his apartment since her death. When she had questioned him about it, he had felt a distinct desire to play it down. He didn't want her to think he was some turian stalker, obsessing over his superior officer and holding her like some idol of war. But playing it down seemed to disappoint her, so he had quickly corrected himself.

Look, Jane. You have to understand. You were like a mentor to me, someone I could look up to. When I wanted revenge, you taught me the difference between that and justice. Taught me that the quick, violent method is not always the right one. I had seen you do things that even I thought were not possible, and you did them without loosing your need to do what was right. I felt like you were so far away, but you talked to me as a person.

And honestly the idea of being more than friends didn't cross my mind until you brought the subject up for me. Human. Turian. Together? But I was just fooling myself. Convinced that because you were human, it was impossible. So convinced, I didn't even realize why I stared at your picture at night after you died. Didn't realize, until I saw you cross the bridge in Omega that most of who I was had died when you did. I wasn't there to kill mercs, and I wasn't there for justice. I was there to kill what little of me was left without you.

While he had noticed her disappointment at his dismissal of the picture, he had not expected to see tears brimming in reply to his confession. They had not fall, however. Her insistent kissing and touching had made certain of that. It was the one time that night when she had taken control, and he had allowed her. He wasn't even sure which one of them had needed comfort in that moment, but they had both taken it.

He looked down at the picture now as he snapped his sniper rifle to the back of his armor. It was one taken in his last days on the Normandy SR1, before he had left the crew to enter Specter training. Training he had never started, as the word of her death came before he even received a reply to the application.

In the picture, she was smiling at the one taking the picture. Smiling at him. This was why he kept the picture, and why it had affected him so after her death. She wasn't smiling because she knew he was taking a picture of her. She was smiling at him with those blue eyes sparkling, watching him as she walked...

"Hey, Garrus? You might be interested in knowing that the real thing is standing right beside you. Or would you like me to leave you and myself alone for a little while longer?" Her gently teasing tone drew his gaze from her image to her in the flesh, her warm smile now a lightly teasing smirk. "You still have fifteen minutes before you need to head back. You feeling the need to take that into the bathroom and daydream in private?"

As long as it had been and as much as they had done, he found himself in moments where he couldn't believe she was alive, talking, fighting, standing beside him. And most stunning of all, apparently as in love with him as he was with her. And now joking with him, as he playfully narrowed his gaze. "Why would I take the picture into the bathroom when I can just take you?"

She gave a (very un-lady like, he noted) snort in reply to his words as she checked the status of her own weapons out of habit while glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. "You can take me anywhere you want," she said with a sly grin turning her lips upward when his mandibles twitched once, followed by a short but obvious growl rising in his throat. She let the click of her sub machine-gun's heat sink snap him out of it before she patted the blue armor over his chest. "Though we might want to wait on that. I'm mostly certain that the Reapers are not going to stop themselves."

"And we have to get back to the Normandy," he added as she drew back, drawing himself upright. "I would trust Miranda with the repairs and general operations, but I'm not so sure about some others. I'm not sure how you managed to keep Jack from starting an all our brawl with her, but now that the mission is over..."

He could tell that the subject caught her attention. Knowing Shepard and how she got to know her crew was one thing. But he had felt from the start that Shepard had formed some sort of connection with the broken girl who had never been allowed the chance at a normal life. Had reached her, on more than one level. Watching her stop Jack, who had never had any trouble killing anything, from killing someone who wanted to restart everything that haunted her? It would have amazed anyone, and it may have saved what little sanity had been left in the biotic. But this would not be the first time she had wondered whether or not the tattooed biotic would remain after all was said and done with the Collectors. Before leave, Shepard had made it clear that anyone who wanted to leave, could leave. No questions, no expectations, no guilt.

But one way or the other, he knew that the question would be answered once they returned to the Normandy.

"If you would give me a moment to explain..." The voice, with it's unmistakable accent belonged to Miranda. How it was that woman walked around looking like the cover girl for every intergalactic swim suit catalog, had a voice that sounded like it belonged in every teenage male's wet dreams, but was still able tear a Collector apart with her mind was sometimes beyond Shepard. The fact that she been bred to be perfect was obvious, in her biotic strength and physical skill as much as the way she looked. That didn't stop her from getting on Shepard's nerves every now and then, however.

"Explain what, cheerleader?" Wondering if Garrus could see the light brighten behind her eyes at the sound of the former convicts voice ringing through Operations, Shepard increased her pace. Those two were at each others throats again, which was no surprise at all. Stopping when she saw Jack, already aglow with biotic energy, ranting next to the holographic image of the galaxy with Miranda standing as calm as ever no more than a foot away. "Explain the fact that you've ejected my shit from the ship? That you took my fucking bed? Are you trying to give me a hint, bitch? Because Shepard said I could stay, and I have no fucking problem painting the deck with your pretty face if you think..."

"Stand down, Jack!" With as much confidence as she could push forward given her still slightly unsteady legs, she stormed towards the two of them until she was standing between them. She very quickly felt a rush of deja vu given the fact that she had been here before, and felt as exasperated as she was pleased that Jack was fighting for her place on the ship. That meant she was staying.

Holding the murder glaring biotic at arms length, Shepard turned to face Miranda. "Lawson, report."

With her constant poise and business like way of handling just about everything, it surprised Shepard when Miranda looked pained as her eyes came to rest on the Commander. Everything else about her was, as she had been called before, Ice Queen classic. Calm face, lips betraying nothing of her emotion as she stood straight and nodded. "COmmander, there has been a misunderstanding. I was..."

"You were trying to slip me out the airlock while no one was looking! Damn it, Shepard," she began, starting to pace like a caged wild cat. "I came back from a nice, relaxing night getting trashed with Zaheed and Grunt, you know.. Teaching the tube lizard how to drink like an actual Krogan. And when I get back this morning, my fucking cot is gone! I'm gonna..!"

"Jack, I said stand down!" Shepard sighed in frustration, not a little bit of that coming from the fact that she knew Garrus was watching with an amused smirk behind her. Turning back to Miranda, she did not repeat herself, simply cocked an eyebrow as she folded her arms over her chest.

Trying again, Miranda continued in her ever composed tone. "Commander, I am well aware that you allowed Jack to remain on the Normandy. Given her performance against the Collectors, I felt it only fair that we provide her with a more comfortable bed."

That stopped Jack's pacing dead in it's tracks, and almost had Shepard pulling a double take. Damn it. Now she could feel Garrus' 'I told you so' smugness at her back. "You what?" Jack was obviously stunned, and suspicious at the same moment. They way her eyes narrowed on Miranda said that she didn't trust what they were being told and Shepard was ready to confirm it when, as if on cue, three crewmen in Cerberus uniforms walked by. Two of them carrying a mattress, and the one trailing behind struggling to carry the folded metal frame. It wasn't a luxury bed, but it was standard issue. No doubt more comfortable than the wire and cloth cot Jack had taken from the cargo hold when she had first come on board.

Miranda continued, as no one else seemed able to say anything at the moment. "I know that Jack doesn't ask for anything, and had I approached her about it she likely would have told me to... Ah.."

While she seemed to be searching for words that might have been less vulgar than Jack would have used, Garrus interjected with his first quip of the day. "Shove the bed up your Cerberus loving ass?"

"Yes, something like that. Thank you, Officer."

"Anytime."

Shaking her head slightly, Shepard turned her eyes back to Jack. The tattooed woman was eying the other, as if trying to decide what to make of her now. That ended when there was a loud clang, and cursing from the direction of the elevator. Snapping out of it, Jack turned on her heel, muttering 'Fuck' under her breath before yelling just as she turned the corner, "I'm pushing you all out an open airlock if my bed is broken!"

Shepard turned back to Miranda, who wore the smallest of smiles as she looked in the direction of the ex con, only to go all business again when she faced Shepard. "If there is nothing else at the moment, Commander. There is a report of repair status on the terminal in your quarters. Once you have settled in, if you have a free moment there are a few improvements I think we should look into purchasing on Illium."

Shepard, still trying to figure out exactly what she had seen a moment ago (Miranda? Being nice to Jack?) nodded simply before she glanced over her shoulder at Garrus, continuing on her way towards the elevator. Once inside, with Garrus standing beside her, she decided to speak before he could. "Ok, so you were right. I'm not totally convinced, and I still want to name our first dog after her."

In her quarters, on her private terminal, the light blinked with the messages for the day. Most were from Miranda or Kelly about ship operations, some were from comrades and friends who had heard that they had survived a trip through the Omega relay, and there was one from Alinko. The one that would catch her attention above all others would be the one that sent a chill of fear down her spine.

To: Commander Jane Shepard

Sender: SB

Subject: Information on Reaper movement into the Outer Rim

I don't feel I went out of character with Miranda or Jack. Besides, if Miranda was asked directly why she had gotten Jack a new bed, she would have said something like "Because her 'cot' was an eye soar on this ship." :)

Ended this one on an ominous note. Don't worry. I am not flying by the seat of my pants. I have all of this planned out already.

R&R and all that jazz!