She tried to leave the tower on her own, cloaked and masked, but the labyrinthine security stopped her. She really did not want to hack her way out of the tower. Okay, mostly she did not want to get caught. She'd brushed up on current hacking techniques, but she had a lot still to learn and the Citadel Tower was not the best place to find out she sucked. She did have a back door into Citadel control, something she'd arranged before she'd died…but she was not going to risk exposing that just because she was a coward. She loved her nerd's paradise, but she had to break out, face reality, get back to where she had some control over her own life, away from Garrus.

She had Spectre codes, but she'd gotten into the tower on Councilor security protocols, and a Spectre might have powers, but overriding Councilor authority was not one of them.

Something she was sure Garrus appreciated.

She was thinking waaaaay too much about…pressing.

She did not watch Fleet and Flotilla once. Self defense.

Every day he became more attractive until she was afraid she was going to stick to him like a magnet, unable to be pried off. She counted giddy minutes until he arrived. He smelled good. She fantasized about pressing her lips to the side of his throat. She wanted to know what he tasted like, warm and spiced. She closed her eyes, imagined breathing in, touching her tongue to his hide…it wouldn't be against the rules. No Reverie…and he'd…

She blushed to full alert and startled herself out of that fantasy. No. No, you can't. First disastrous steps.

He'd keep his word.

He'd keep his word right up until he realizes he does not have to, and that the deeper truth is the one he is going to honor. Things change fast in the tower, remember? Dad was right, I needed someone as smart as I am and he qualifies, and that's the problem.

Garrus alerted her Omni Tool with two simple words she could hear in his mocking drawl "No escape."

"I have to get to the Normandy."

"No, but nice try. I'll be there later. Wait until I can arrange an extraction that doesn't result in you being spectacularly detained by C-Sec."

She skulked back inside…

So…a few more hours in nerd paradise, solitude, silence and hopeful counting of minutes until the sound of the door means he's here and your heart leaps when you see that it's him. Just a few more hours of the way you would want things to be if you had a choice.

Then I go kill things for a living.

Yes, my life is really weird. It was definitely easier being dead.

She heard her parents not say anything…loudly.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

oOoOoOoOoOo

By the time Garrus arrived, it was late enough that she'd wrapped herself in a blanket and fallen asleep on the couch.

He did have to let her go, but not without saying goodbye. It was like her to slip out unseen, refuse to meet, not allow him on the Normandy, or only allow him near her in official capacity in public places. Because she…was tempted. She was so very tempted to take back every careful restriction she'd placed. He'd hoped for enough time to wear that reserve from her and get to the woman that watched him with hunger and longing…but she was typically Shepard…or whatever her name was…and she guarded that last bit of ground tenaciously.

He knew her well enough to know to wait. Two paces behind.

Unfortunately.

She wanted to be back on her ship where she made the rules and he could not follow. Yes, she was a Council Spectre and he could in theory tell her what to do, but he knew exactly how well she followed orders that countered her own guidance. He also really couldn't let her be observed leaving the tower without having ever officially arrived, the only conclusion being that she'd been there for a long time. He reluctantly arranged for shuttle service in a few hours, direct from the tower to the Normandy. She would likely only be stopped from leaving once at his request. She would manage to hack her way out or talk Anderson into using his tower access codes, and he would not get his goodbye. Then he had to get back to his life, more at stake and less to look forward to until her next visit, which was…out of his control. When it happened or if it happened.

So much was suddenly out of his control. He found it more and more difficult to accept that he really was going to say goodbye and throw her back into the storm, possibly not see her again, to be left with a memory of her kiss and vengeance against whatever killed her. In theory he'd be able to do more than hold her…once the war was over. The war that historically took centuries, eradicating all life.

But you got your kiss, and your bond, and she has spent nights in your arms because she did not want to leave. She's wrapped in a blanket on the couch where you've spent so much time together. She's not in her bed. She's waiting here, sleeping and trusting because she does not at heart want to leave. She has to leave in Spirit. She loves you and is terrified…for good reason…of everything that could go wrong, mapping out her life…and now yours…as she always did, careful and considered moves.

So there's that.

He had to remind himself often and viciously to not complain. He did not always succeed.

He was doing his job, but political capital was disappearing or being devoured by distraction. Shepard's reappearance was virtually simultaneous to his bond. Add in his dramatic lack of a social life for two years and the unexplained marks on his crest…

He felt and saw the shift in political potential daily. Shepard had not been produced publically, but she would be. Ambitions that might have involved an alliance with Vakarian clan through bond faded, in some places bitterly. In some places vengefully. Everyone knew that Shepard would eventually appear before the Council. She would have suggestions and directions and he would always be aligned with them.

It did not matter if people could or could not verify that he was bonded to Shepard. What did matter is that they could predict his behavior and needs, and that made him vulnerable. He, Anderson and the Asari Councilor Tevos made for an impressive influence bloc, but the Salarian Councilor Valern would press and use the media to exploit vulnerabilities, find the places where Garrus was weak and would concede, just as he had on the long-wrangled and now supported project that had been traded for Shepard's Spectre status. There were Hierarchy opponents who wanted their projects highlighted and would do the same thing. All they needed to do was oppose what Shepard needed and he would have to concede in other places. Garrus's insistence on Reaper readiness was fortunately unchanged, her return marked no alteration in his approach, but now Shepard was the focus and he was potentially diminished to a puppet of bond and inclination.

That should bother him more, but his main problem was not that he was a puppet, it was that he could not announce how proud he was to be HER puppet.

Where Garrus had before been inexorably insistent in his political life, now there was a personal element. His announcement had convinced some that he was romantic and prudent. His already high approval rating with the public of all species in general got a bump, but it had taken a distinct Turian dip. Not critical, but enough to validate every fear Cara had about loss of political capital and Turian support. Discovering his bond mate's identity would be at the top of any influence peddler's list, but any competent influence peddler would be able to draw a map without proof.

The wiser political players only had to act as though his being bonded to Shepard were true, and watch how that bet paid off every time predictably. It could and would erode his appearance of representing only the Hierarchy if it could be easily deduced that he owed his fealty as bond mate to Shepard. She must support the furthering of the survival of all species, not just humans. He had to support the furthering of the survival of Turians in order to protect her, and he could not protect her as zealously as he would wish. Not publically. He could not be caught doing it privately either. It would ruin his bargaining position and authority. He could potentially be provoked, needled and harassed on the subject and he must at all times remain calm, as Councilor Vakarian had always been. As he, looking down at her sleeping at the moment was not inclined to be. He had to be even more careful to create distance, rely on Anderson and Tevos to support her. He had to hang back and that was painful. Hang back on the Citadel when he wanted to be next to her. Hang back politically and hedge his position strategically. He was not at imminent risk of losing his position, but he had to concede that his position would face new scrutiny, new assumptions and he was limited in his ability to maintain Turian confidence and simultaneously support Shepard's…admittedly often crazy and extreme by nature to outside scrutiny…position.

His mother had quelled potential Vakarian outrage and supported his reasoning for private bond. He had not told her about Shepard, but his mother had wished him joy. No doubt his father and mother had guessed and were as willing as Garrus was himself to avoid exposure, only for different motivations. His father was no doubt livid. He had been distinct in his absence. Garrus's mother loved him and wanted to support him and that was enough reason for her. Solana was hurt at being excluded, but supportive. Although the greater population of the Citadel approved of Councilor Vakarian's announcement of concealed bond as romantic, Turians were not likely to believe that he was bonded to a Turian female for several reasons. A Turian female would need the status boost of being bond mate to the Councilor for her clan much more than her own life. A Turian female would have too much pride to allow her bond mate to presume to protect her in such a seemingly cowardly way. It was un-Turian in character to insist on secrecy, and could be construed as a backhanded insult to C-Sec in the more brazen Turian custom of eternal 'bring it on' up-front challenge rather than reticence. Fortunately Garrus had chosen the new Executor, and she had wished him well. His relationship was good with C-Sec, no backlash there. They had chosen to overlook the potential insult, instead honoring the face value of protecting a loved one, which was understood more viscerally by other species making up C-Sec, no longer fully Turian. The addition of indoctrination was a real, insidious threat, making the 'cowardly' aspect dim in comparison to other historical circumstances. His announcement had been hedging and careful and hoped to create a social fiction that would be privately disbelieved but publically supported due to very real threat.

Though Turians might not believe his social fiction, they would not insist that the Citadel had a perfect handle on all security risks. From mercs to indoctrination to run of the mill crime, claiming Turian exceptionalism and assumed immunity to danger would be a foolish public stance and would alienate other races who were more open about potential weaknesses. It could backfire and give other species a forum to question Turian commitment to security if they focused on denial of threat rather than prevention.

Whether or not he commented on his bond, others would and did. The media did. Gossip at his level of politics was business. According to Liara, Cara had insisted on not getting involved for that reason in her first conversation after resurrection. Hell, Cara could read about his devotion on a daily basis and keep herself very busy. She had two years of his addresses and speeches enshrining her memory to catch up on that everyone else knew about already. She was likely entirely up to speed on the fact that Councilor Vakarian was known to have held her in unusually…likely unnaturally…high regard. There was no concealing that.

The odd marks on his forehead he had never discussed had shown up immediately after Shepard's death. Those marks remained, and that was something a Turian woman would be unlikely to allow or forgive. Speculation had always described the marks as an odd tribute to Shepard's memory. A Turian woman would not tolerate her bond mate pressing his crest to hers with the rumored color of a human female painted there. Impossible. Yes, Councilor Vakarian was progressive and…unique in his outlook and based on his results cultural concessions were made…Commander Shepard was an admirable, exceptional woman…but it would be unthinkable. These were things Turians knew.

Humans or Asari might think: "But he could decide to keep them."

Every Turian's response: "She would be his Avah, it would be up to her."

"But if she loved him…"

"It is not about love, that is proven with a bond. It is about obedience and appearance. She would know he would obey her and that erasing three marks that were not 'important' enough to explain would be her duty to provide to his newly pledged clan. He would take her colors and her name. The marks are for clan, not for the bond pair. She would not allow clan markings to be alloyed with the unknown. Loyalty must be clear or it does not exist."

Cue human and Asari belief of romance and protection, and Turian assertion of understanding exactly what was going on. A bond, but no name change, no color change, no identification…

Loyalty was in fact clear to those who knew where and how to look.

Then there were those odd things in his office nobody could ever get him to explain. A stuffed animal such as those favored by human children, a reused bottle filled with unknown amber liquid, and an ancient Omni Tool. They had been enshrined after his return from Intai'sei in the office of Executor Vakarian and then transferred to Councilor Vakarian's new offices. Draw lines of most likely conclusion between the recklessly romantic gestures and their timing and they formed an arrow pointed directly at Shepard.

It had served him well even among Turians when she was dead, loyalty and dedication rewarded, hero worship admired as good character. Expectation was that any implied mourning period would pass and he would eventually choose a mate. He had no intentions of such, and though suspicion grew as time passed, nobody could prove it, nor was it anybody's right to do so if his Avah did not. His position afforded him autonomy and likely only his mother or the Primarch could bring any pressure to bear on the subject. Neither were inclined in that direction. He was still young and must of course choose with care. He was only in his 30s and often bond or children did not take place until careers were well established, usually not until a later age by decades. He had changed career five times, now in only his first year of being Councilor. His job was tumultuous and sensitive, it was understood that social concerns were secondary. Now, with the assumption that he was bonded to a living human, a human who had changed the course of history for many…opinions shifted toward the more calculated use of new information and his devotion was much less a fading memory than a growing certainty.

Fortunately he had not made a single promise to anybody regarding Vakarian alliance or influence, and his mother had abided by that as well. His father…had possibly been not as discreet…but he would have to pay that price himself due to his lack of ability to provide implied contracts or promises. His father was not a fool and would not make that Garrus's problem. Garrus's mother had kept her iron hold on Vakarian clan politics, proud of her son and responding to treatment for Corpalis Syndrome. Garrus's influence had gotten her into an experimental Salarian program. They had caught it early and although not all damage to her mind had been reversed, further damage had been prevented. He would owe Valern a life's worth of debt for that, and Valern collected in installments.

He was not going to tell Cara any of this, because she hated it when she was right about things like this. He also hated it when she was right about things like this.

He dropped all the things he hated after watching her sleep for a few more minutes, unwilling to lose the opportunity to spend time with her. He would have plenty of time to curse circumstances after she left. He picked her up gently and sat down with her in his lap, this position now familiar to both of them. She stirred only briefly and then curled herself closer to him, hand on his chest.

He let her sleep, minutes ticking away to the shuttle pickup point, passively protective now with her sleeping, present but submerged urges to lift her mouth to his, shift her tiny body against his. She was resilient, a survivor, and he didn't think he would crush her. It might force her to withdraw, lose the middle ground of trust, cause her to slip away like quicksilver. With her sleeping, he could contemplate delicacy and protection, his right to that and her unquestioning trust as she moved closer without his urging.

Once she opened her eyes…the outcome was unfortunately predictable. She'd see where she was, where she'd moved, and she'd look part guilty, part anguished and part hungry.

He enjoyed the hunger. He despised the guilt and anguish.

Time ticked by and he regretted every moment he had spent on regret, which was foolish and contradictory and just a measure of his growing desperation.

The minutes swept by until he had to wake her. He brushed a finger along her cheek and lifted her, partial protest from her in a sleepy rejection. He smiled and lifted her head to press his mouth to her hair "Time to wake up. Time to go. I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye."

She looked up at him, sleepy green eyes and a soft, sad curve to her lips "I didn't want to say goodbye at all."

He reached over to the side table and brought out a small package "I got you something."

She looked at it and said "What is it?"

"You mentioned brownies in your message…and I had no idea what they were, or what a brownie controversy would be, but…I did a little research. This is by popular opinion the best brownie that one can get on the Citadel."

Her smile was wide and tears flooded her eyes "You got me a brownie?"

He nodded solemnly "The best, researched brownie."

She looked at the package and said "Nobody's gotten me a brownie before."

"Go ahead and eat it, shuttle's coming soon. I'll take you to the Normandy, no security, no cameras, no questions."

She lifted a hand and stroked along his mandible, said a very quiet "Thank you" as warmth spread from her fingers along the plate and hide. He closed his eyes briefly and then opened to find her staring at the brownie.

She said with great ceremony "I'm keeping it."

He smiled and said "Aren't you supposed to eat it?" Had he missed some weird brownie custom, was that the controversy?

She smiled, wistful, his heart squeezed tight "No. It's my first gift brownie. It's special. I'm keeping it forever. It will become an heirloom of my house."

He imagined the Madlis of Vakarian Clan on Palaven in Cipritine, the Spiritual home of the clan. It was a huge, ostentatious building with thousands of residents, recesses in the walls revealing armor and weapons and historical relics. His legacy. By contrast she did not even claim her own name, had no family and no home. I'd take your last name if you told me what it was, Cara. But you asked me not to ask you. Are you even aware of Turian bond custom? For now I guess it's just 'Garrus' to you.

He said teasing "You could have a plinth made."

She looked at it, appraising "What do you think, encased in crystal or just kept below subzero temperatures?"

He shrugged "Be safe. Both."

He had promised himself not to fall apart because he wanted her and could not have her, but fell apart the other way, that she wanted silently and had nothing, took nothing, saved everything she could. Not a bite of a brownie, not a kiss. Everything saved, whole for the future she had to create before she could take anything for herself. The boxes at Intai'sei made frozen and crystallized sense where they hadn't before. Even those were his now. Maybe they would be able to go there together some day, a sacred brownie added to the hoard, nobody to see as their bed warmed from their skin, silence broken with laughter and moans and whispers.

His subvocals vibrated in distress, and she didn't hear it, but she felt it. She put the brownie carefully down and wrapped her arms around him, trying to comfort him, protect him. She said softly "I love my brownie, Garrus."

He nuzzled her hair with his crest and tried to control himself, but said before he could stop "I want more time."

"Me too. We'll get it. Just…later."

He lifted her chin with his fingertip and said "I hate later."

She smiled, promise and hope. His heart squeezed again "No you don't, it's going to be wonderful."

Looking at her face, listening to her voice, imagining what it would be like to finally touch her, he had to concede. "I'm going to hold you to that."

She was up and out of his arms, blanket abandoned, gathering her things and secreting her heirloom brownie somewhere safe.

She made it to the door first, but before she could open it he stepped behind her and held it closed. She tugged once and then subsided. She stood still, stiff, not protesting but in her customary ready-to-bolt stance.

He leaned down so his mouth was close to her ear, hearing her heart start to pound. He said warmly "It's all right, Cara, I'm not going to kiss you. No Reverie, I promise. A little pressing, but I'm sure you can take it. I told you the negotiation wasn't over. It won't ever be over. I just want you to know that as your bond mate, I feel I need to protest that I did not get to send you off the way I would like. It feels…empty…to have you walk out…your skin untouched. There are moans from you I haven't heard yet."

She started to tremble, weak kneed and staring straight forward, though she didn't protest when he used the arm not blocking the door to pull her back more tightly to him. He lined up his mandible with the side of her jaw, his mouth close to her ear. He said "Cara, think of all the firsts. Not just the first time my talons trail over your skin, but the first time you trust me. I'll be thinking about what your voice sounds like when you say my name, your head back and your hair spread out over a pillow with my tongue finding all those firsts. I promise you will not even know you're begging for more."

In her inexperience and helplessness she said exactly the wrong thing to her mind, but exactly the right thing to his.

"Garrus…please…"

His hand tightened on her waist and he said "Spirits, yes, like that. Just…like that. You're going to say that…again and again…and I will treasure the thousandth time just like this one. It doesn't matter if you die, I'm still going to count those lost chances at firsts…I will bring you back again or find you in the afterlife, Cara, and I will take every one of them. I will count them up, they will be treasures of our finally-named house, and I will count them down again against your mouth, on your skin, in your body…until you know how much I hate…saying goodbye…to my bond mate for any length of time…and I just don't feel…right…that she leaves this room without everything I am in her blood, in her heart, in her mind. I belong to you. Now and always."

It occurred to him that absolutely no Turian in a room with them would fail to notice that her heart was out of control when he spoke to her. He desperately wanted to 'accidentally' make her heart pound, just like this, in mixed, elite company so there was absolutely no doubt he was hers.

She's going to avoid you…

She was going to do that anyway.

She's not afraid, she's fucking stubborn is what she is.

He waited in a hopeful suspended moment. Cara, turn around. Give me my first. Let me send the shuttle away. Stay with me.

She didn't move. Her pulse-pounded scent of desire that he had wanted to provoke did not go away, but it was shot through slowly with something else. A scent he remembered, something that brought him joy because that meant she was going to win, and if she was going to win, she was Shepard, and she would come back to him. She smelled like metal and desire. He smiled as he waited for her.

She said calmly "Garrus. You're mine?"

He answered in her ear "Always and forever."

"Then prove it and open the door for me."

He breathed in, appreciative and satisfied by his bond mate's strength and will, said softly "I love you. Yes ma'am." He opened the door and held it for her as she walked out.

She said, not looking back "I love you too, and I trust you, and those aren't firsts."

That was an infuriating thing to say, unless the word trust really did mean something different to humans, like so many concepts that did not translate.

She'd better come back or he was going to kill her himself.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Cara was very proud of herself and slightly sickened by getting herself out of the tower without breaking…everything…

She didn't want to be Shepard with him but she hadn't seen a choice. Turn in his arms and find those…firsts…knowing you won't leave…or use the power you have over him to walk out, not looking back.

He escorted her in silence to the Normandy, piloting the shuttle himself, relaying her on board and accepting a brief tour from EDI.

He stopped in the Battery, his hand stroking along the armature of the Normandy's main cannons.

Oh, his hand.

He turned to her and said "Commander, I believe once you told me that if I ever wanted a bunk on any ship you commanded, all I ever had to do was ask. I'm asking."

She was on guard and stayed in the often constricting but now-comforting hard presence of Shepard, though the image of him on the ship in any bunk, in her bed, on the couch in her quarters…was exactly what he'd wanted to invoke and added a sliding warm havoc to her thoughts.

She smiled and said "And right after that I said you deserved your own command. Permission denied, Councilor, though the request is appreciated. Funny how things change in two years."

He looked around the battery appraisingly "That is a shame. Then permission to tour proposed upgrades?"

She nodded "Of course, Councilor."

She did not promise to be the one giving the tour and she and he both imagined her hiding in her quarters.

He smiled at her "Some things do not change with passing years. Some things will not change."

She purposely misunderstood "But the gun will. Thank you for your technical assistance in the upgrades of the Normandy, she is magnificent. If you will excuse me, I need to alert crew as early as possible that we will be leaving soon."

"How soon?"

"Two days. EDI, if you would please assist Councilor Vakarian?"

"Of course, Commander."

She turned and left him there, headed for the elevator.

Once in her quarters she walked to the bed and fell face forward into it, really missing the tension relief of being able to swear. Instead she made indistinct noises and whimpers into the cool covers.

"Oh. Oh. That hurt. Hello blanket. Hello again. Yes, it's me. I am in trouble. You'll get used to it. What kind of trouble? Shooting at me kind? No…just…boy trouble."

She started to laugh and kept at it until her sides hurt and she was coughing.

"Oh. Oh no."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Garrus finished his tour, actively counting the moments where she was gone, knowing the sum total of potential firsts, seconds and twentieths would haunt him, but for now there was the warm boost of ego he got from watching Commander Shepard retreat because that was her only tactical option.

He was still not necessarily a nice person.