Garrus swept through the Normandy's CIC with a confidence befitting a commanding officer. His position had grown on him, a matter of time, a matter of patience, neither thing in short supply during the months spent marooned on Calypso. Any leadership aspirations buried in the shadow of William Shepard quickly sprouted from the earth and took on a life of their own.

"At ease, soldier," he murmured smoothly to a passing cadet.

But it all felt new, and not merely new but strange and raw. The saluting soldiers were a constant reminder of two vitally important things. Firstly: that while this was not his first leadership position, it was unlike any other; that was to say that the bands of misfits and miscreants that had come before could not compare to the team Shepard had assembled. Not only could they count amongst their company the finest the Alliance had to offer, but the Normandy also boasted a Quarian admiral, the infamous Shadow Broker, and a blue box housing an unshackled AI. Omega suddenly seemed so very small.

The second thing, and something not so easily defined, was just what kind of a leader Garrus Vakarian was. The soldiers did not salute Shepard. Not because he was yet to earn their respect, or because he didn't demand it with every footfall, but because he was a known quantity and, what's more, he was beloved. Saluting Shepard was like going up to the most beautiful female in the room and telling her exactly that. Flattering, of course, but ultimately pointless.

This made Shepard all the more remarkable. That he was able to balance a position of power with the many friendships he had aboard the Normandy only really struck Garrus now that he was similarly and precariously poised.

"Engine check," he said softly, placing a taloned hand gently on the back of the pilot's chair.

"Same as it was twenty minutes ago, Vakarian," Joker replied, his amusement masking his genuine irritation. "And for the past week. Unless you want me to go outside and check the nuts and bolts, I'd say the Normandy is as flightworthy as it'll be."

"Weapons check, then," the turian said shortly.

Joker's head slowly turned, revealing an incredulous look. "You expecting to run into much trouble between the land and the sky?"

"More trouble than a smart-mouthed, brittle-boned pilot? Probably not," he replied, returning the gaze. "But why don't you humour me anyway."

"Touché, captain."

Joker punched in a series of commands with practiced ease and then sat back in his seat and wallowed in self-satisfaction.

"EDI herself couldn't have done it better," said Joker as he threaded his fingers behind his head. "And I'll be sure to tell her that as soon as we get back to Earth."

"You really think it'll be that easy?" asked Garrus.

"What do you mean?" Joker shot back quickly, brow furrowed in confusion.

"We don't know what we're going back to," he replied, his voice level. "Earth could be in ruins. The Alliance could be one bullet short of mutiny. Humanity could have devolved back to a prehistoric state."

While it sounded like a joke, not dissimilar from previous verbal jousts between the two, Garrus' tone left little room for doubt that he was, on some level at least, and one that warranted attention, being entirely serious.

"And I don't like to be the one to say it," he continued, allowing a thought to surface that had been niggling away at him for weeks. "But ever since the incident with EDI I've been asking myself, what makes Shepard so different? Why were we so sure that EDI was dead? And why we are so sure that Shepard isn't?"

"Because–" Joker replied, but then he paused suddenly and attempted to gather together the rest of that sentence. "I mean–"

"Because Tali refused to put his name on the wall?" Garrus suggested.

"No," Joker insisted. "No. Definitely not. I mean," he added desperately, lips pursing, brow furrowed. "It's more like. It's–" He puffed out his cheeks despairingly and then gave a sigh. "Okay. Maybe it is that. Well, more than likely. But it's not like we saw him die. And the last time I did see him die he was back two years later and he was all, 'hey, what's up, Joker, we're with Cerberus now – wanna' go for a beer?'"

"You have a real gift, Moreau."

Joker wiggled his eyebrows. "You mean for romancing AIs with smokin' hot robot bodies? Or that whole astro-navigation thing?"

"I was thinking more of your ability to talk utter nonsense."

Joker laughed. "Ah, that. Hey, it's all good. I'm a man of many talents."

"Let the crew know," said Garrus, turning serious once more, "take-off procedures begin tomorrow morning at 0800 hours. We're finally getting off this rock."

"Yes, sir," Joker practically shouted, offering the retreating turian a lazy salute.

OOO

While James Vega could hardly be called a subtle creature, the memorial wall on the crew deck had always struck him as particularly jarring. And perhaps that was the point, as war was a time in which every sacrifice, great and small, needed to be remembered. But he couldn't help the way his footsteps sped up just a little, or how quickly he managed to avert his eyes in passing.

Dinner was being served in the mess hall; apparently something that smelled processed and looked like it had been squeezed fresh out of a tube. The Normandy's impending departure meant rations were no longer much of a concern but he had long since added a home cooked meal to the list of things he wished to be reacquainted with; a list that also included a cold beer, a warm bed and a hot shower. A member of the fairer sex wouldn't go amiss, either. Or two.

The closest there was to a natural order on the Normandy was on display come dinnertime. It wasn't a case of segregation, simply habits and tendencies shared amongst the crew. The cadets sat on one table, the engineers on another and then, finally, a group to which he belonged, a group without a name and without any real common ground beyond their relationship with the erstwhile Commander. And since they were sans Shepard, he found it both amusing and remarkable that the congregation held their ground.

"Sparks, Scars," he said, taking a seat and addressing Tali and Garrus, "another appetising dextro delicacy, I take it?" He eyed their food, Garrus' in a small bowl and Tali's in a clear tube. "Bon appétit."

Tali, who would never feel entirely comfortable eating in front of others, but who made the concession at Shepard's insistence, laughed shortly at the cocky marine. "So the cadets wouldn't give you their lunch money and now you've come to pick on us dextros. Tsk. Shame on you, Mr. Vega."

"Hey," Vega replied, holding his hands up defensively, "I like purple coloured goo as much as the next guy, Sparks. Go easy."

"You're lucky I like you," Tali said dismissively, bowing her head as she lifted the tube to her mouthpiece. "Bosh'tet."

Vega grinned his goofy grin, flashing a suggestive look at first Ashley Williams and then Liara T'Soni, both of whom seemed merely amused by his antics. He continued on, undeterred by the tough crowd. "Hard to imagine, isn't it? This time next week we'll be back on Earth. We should do something. Something crazy. You know, to mark the occasion."

"If you want to run naked around the ship, Vega," Garrus practically drawled, "then be my guest."

"Oh, what's the matter, Vakarian?" Vega quickly retorted. "You're missing Shepard and so you're coming to Jimmy Vega for your booty call?"

While Tali'Zorah was reduced to a face palm, Ashley Williams wasn't so prepared for a silent protest. "That's a visual that will never stop haunting me. Ugh," she added, shivering for effect.

"What's a booty call?" asked Liara suddenly, her expression a sort of blank innocence that only grew more compelling the longer it lingered.

Everyone at the table turned to her, in unison, and simply stared. She blinked. Slowly.

"Oh."

"Aaanyway…" Vega continued after a moment, an uneasy, lopsided smile twisting his lips. "I'm going to be at the bar in about fifteen minutes to raise a toast to this rock. And you'll be there," he went on, pointing at Garrus and then going around the table, "and you, and you, and you."

With that said, Vega sauntered off to collect his meal, leaving the group smiling despite themselves and sharing in their bemusement. Jimmy Vega was a difficult man to say no to.

OOO

There in the centre of the bar, a bar surrounded by Shepard's closest friends, sat a bottle of Sea Wynde Rum. It was his favourite. It was untouched. More so, it was a symbol of a celebration that was a long time coming. Much as they all wanted to raise a glass and toast the demise of the Reapers, it felt utterly wrong to do so without Shepard. And so it was a quiet affair, the small group joined only by Joker and Samantha Traynor.

"You know, in my head this was a little less awkward," Vega ventured, flashing an apologetic smile.

"I daresay everything you do is a little less awkward in your head, Vega," Garrus replied coolly, always jumping at the chance to rib a fellow crewmember.

Traynor lifted her chin, a small smile fading from her lips, and asked, "Do you think we'll ever go back? Do you think we'll ever live normal lives?"

Garrus chuckled. "Who are you asking? The shadow broker? The quarian admiral? The ex-vigilante?"

Traynor blinked her eyes shut. "You're right," she said softly, mildly embarrassed. "Stupid question."

"A better question," Tali ventured, smiling beneath her mask at Traynor, "might be: would you take that life if it was offered to you?"

"Well I just signed myself away to the N7s," Vega replied amusedly, "so I guess that's a no from me."

"And I'm a Spectre, so…" Ash interjected, trailing off. "Normal for me would be staring down the barrel of a gun. Again. And I think if you try to quit, they blacklist you, and you spend the rest of your days working security detail outside an asari whorehouse. No offence, Liara," she added, taking a sip of her drink and watching the asari over the rim of her glass.

"None taken."

"I couldn't do it," said Garrus, eyes narrowing as he thought it over. "Normal it just… it's not us. I mean, I could go home to Palaven. Find a wife. Have some kids. Really settle down. I won't pretend I haven't thought about it. But each time I heard my omni-tool chime I'd be waiting, expecting… hoping that Shepard was on the other end of the line, telling me that for the thousandth time he wants to run off and risk his life for some insane cause, and that he needs me by his side. I couldn't say no. And whatever happiness normality would bring me… it wouldn't feel right. Not when I'm just waiting for something better to come along."

"And the galaxy needs a shadow broker," Liara chimed in between sips of her drink, "it may not want one, but there's a lot of rebuilding to be done. I can do a lot more from the shadows than I can as Liara T'Soni."

"Flying this ship is the only thing I've ever been good at," said Joker. "And I don't want to lose that. The many life threatening situations aside, these have been the best days of my life. If Shepard will have me, then I'll stay by his side until the end. If not, I'll just get a job on the second best ship in the galaxy. I'm sure I could live with that."

Traynor had been listening intently. As a relatively new addition to the Normandy crew, she was easily awed. Her crewmates, whether infamous or previously unknown to her, were utterly fascinating. When she realised it was her turn, and that she had a tough act to follow, she gave a nervous little laugh and took a large gulp of wine.

"As nice as that sounds… you know, a normal life – I think we're all forgetting something."

"And what's that?" asked Liara, tilting her head.

"Shepard wouldn't last five minutes without us."

The group broke into fits of laughter – reserved laughter, certainly, but the moment meant all the more because of it.

There was a pause and everyone who was not looking at Tali, awaiting her contribution, was doing so in such an obvious way that they might as well have had their faces pressed against her visor.

Beneath her mask, she gave a sad little smile. "I don't know," she said in earnest. "I really just… don't know."

Another paused followed, this one decidedly awkward. So much so that everyone there not thinking about lost loves was half-expecting Vega to strip down to his birthday suit and go off running towards the surface of Calypso. Mercifully, that did not come to pass and instead Tali got up out of her seat, grabbed the bottle of Sea Wynde Rum and popped the cork, much to the surprise of her companions.

"I thought…" Liara began, treading carefully.

"That I was waiting for Shepard?" Tali asked, filling six glasses with the amber liquid. Though she and Garrus could not partake, it was the gesture itself that mattered. "I know. And I am. But he is not the sentimental type. He would want you, his friends, to enjoy this night. You've earned it."

Everyone took their glasses and lifted them into the air. Ashley and Vega were practically salivating, while Garrus sniffed at the drink, in lieu of taking a sip, and cringed almost immediately. Nevertheless, he went around the circle, gently clinking glass against glass and leading the toast.

"To our friend," he said smoothly, "to our captain… and to the many suicide missions that lie ahead under his command. We wouldn't have it any other way."

His friends answered the rallying cry and cheered in unison, "To Shepard."