Easily one of my favorite characters in ME2.

Were she in a rational frame of mind, Shepard would have realized that her short temper and thin patience were intimately tied to Garrus' endless calibrations. She'd returned to the ship expecting a confrontation, or at least an airing of the dark demons he'd kept buried since Omega. He was consumed by vengeance, and she'd ruined his plans by exacting it herself. Instead of having it out with her, he kept himself sequestered in the main battery, ignoring her attempts at communication and throwing himself into his work. She wanted to scream at him, punch him, do anything that might finally get a reaction, but something always stopped her short.

In the meanwhile, every minute detail of life aboard the Normandy became intolerable. Joker's sarcasm grated, the food was tasteless, the crew's pleasantries rang hollow, and even in the sanctuary of her quarters she felt anything but at home. The fish tank sat empty, its inhabitants' short lives a poignant reminder of her own mortality.

Credits sat idle in her account: enough to upgrade her surroundings as well as her arsenal. She set a course for Ilium, the slick bastion of capitalism, a planet-sized shopping haven for those with limited scruples and money to burn. After making the necessary investments in armor and weaponry, she was pleased to find a sizable amount of credits left over. Enough to give her crew payment for the mission, or leave a stipend for their next of kin if they didn't make it through. Enough, even, for Shepard to splurge on herself. It didn't take long to find what she wanted: comfortable bedding, clothing free of Cerberus emblems, and a fireplace to replace the cold lifeless tank.

The trip took less time than she'd expected, and Shepard was in no hurry to return to her ship. She stopped into Eternity, wearing new clothes and a weary expression. Aethyta greeted Shepard with a nod as she took a seat at the bar, pouring her a glass of the sweet asari wine she'd recently grown fond of.

"What's on your mind, honey?"

"Nothing worth talking about."

"Hmph. Never thought you of all people would come in here moping over some guy, Shep."

"I never said…"

"You didn't have to. It's written all over your face."

"It's more complicated than that."

"It always is. Trust me, he isn't worth the heartache. Or the headache, by the looks of you."

A wan smile crept across Shepard's lips, a knowing smirk across Aethyta's. The matriarch had seen this scenario play out countless times in her long life. More than once, she'd been the one pining for unrequited affection, back when her skin was taut and even salarians' jaws dropped at her curves. What a fool she'd been, but there was a certain sweetness to the folly of youth, an endearing naivete in the sight of a hardened warrior reduced to pitiful melancholy before her. The last time Shepard visited Eternity, there was a drell with her: his soulful eyes never left her for more than a moment. Aethyta wondered whether he was the source of her discontent.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess he's not human."

"Yeah."

"And you're having difficulty communicating with him."

"Yeah. You going somewhere with this?"

Aethyta laughed. "Take it from me, sister, I've done it all. Turian, hanar, elcor, salarian: hell, the worst heartbreak I ever had came from one of my own. Maybe I can help you figure it out."

"Maybe I don't want your help." Shepard contemplated retreating to one of the corner booths, away from the bartender's prying questions. On the other hand, she'd elected to take a seat at the bar in the first place, having enjoyed the asari's company in the past. Aethyta wasn't a typical matriarch: her krogan lineage shone through her ladylike exterior. It was so rare to find a strong female outside her species, or any females at all, for that matter: Shepard often wondered where all the galaxy's women were hiding. Not that asari were gendered, but they were definitely feminine, and that was close enough for her.

Shepard stared down at her empty glass, motioning for Aethyta to pour her another round. "Sorry. I shouldn't be so bitchy. Let me make it up to you: what are you drinking?"

The matriarch looked puzzled, then quietly flattered. Lovely pink markings emerged as she blushed. "It's been a long while since anyone offered to buy me a drink."

Shepard leaned forward, her frosty demeanor melting into a warm smile. "Let's remedy that, shall we?"

Tucked away underneath the bar was a very old bottle of spirits, reserved for special occasions, now nearly empty. When Aethyta was entering the peak of her wild years, the bottle's contents were just beginning their slow fermentation; it took only a glance at its vintage to make her nostalgic for her youth. Not that those days were without misadventure, but reminiscing, like the soft glow of candlelight, had a way of making everything seem more pleasant than it really was. Aethyta felt young again, heart pounding as she opened the bottle and decanted the last of the rich violet liquid inside.

With a flirtacious glance and a cheerful clink of glasses, Shepard parted her lips and felt the seductive burn of alcohol slide down her throat, exotic scents and flavors teasing her palate. She took her time, sipping slowly to enjoy the craft of artisans from a long-lost generation.

Aethyta was looking longingly at the label, running her hand along the bottle's edge, lost in distant memories. Shepard took the opportunity to let her gaze linger undetected on the asari's features. A matriarch in the truest sense, she thought: not lulled into a placid sense of wisdom by passing years, but a mature woman, her fire and passion undimmed by the centuries. For this she'd been ostracized, shunned from high society, sequestered behind a bar when she should be in a place of power, spearheading the changes her species so desperately needed.

In Aethyta, Shepard saw echoes of herself, and hoped she'd have the tenacity and endurance to shine so brightly in her place. Tough, wise, resilient, and beautiful. Unable to resist, Shepard leaned over the bar, laced her fingers into the asari's fringe, and kissed her, lips every bit as soft and sweet as her own. She pulled back when she felt Aethyta moan and melt into her kiss, not wanting to cause more of a scene than she already had.

Markings glowing bright fuchsia, filled with vigor she hadn't felt since the last time she saw her daughter's mother, Aethyta grinned and made her offer.

"Tell you what, Shepard. There was a time when I could have anyone I wanted, when the whole galaxy was at my feet. I bet I can make you forget all about whoever's on your mind. And if I can't, it must be for real."

Shepard didn't necessarily agree with the asari's logic, but her invitation was irresistible. There was a stockroom behind the bar: she grabbed Aethyta's hand and didn't bother being discreet about heading there.

She slammed the door shut with her hips, spinning the asari around to pin her back against it. Shepard looked Aethyta straight in the eye, making sure she knew this was no random drunken encounter, but a deliberate and careful choice. Leaning in, she pressed her lips hard against Aethyta's, her tongue slipping forcefully into her mouth. She tugged at her clothing, craving satisfaction through the pleasure of another.

It had been a long time since Aethyta had a lover, longer still since she'd tasted such desire. Still reeling from shock, she was caught off-guard by Shepard's attack, her vicious kisses and delicate bites intoxicating and passionate, almost turian in ferocity. In Aethyta's experience, the more noble the warrior, the heavier the weight of responsibility and expectations, the greater the dignity they showed publicly, the more wild and depraved they became once liberated of restraint. There had been a Primarch once, a lover from her distant past, but even he burned less brightly than wicked little Shepard, almost comically tiny without her armor.

"I should have known you were such a hellion, babe."

Shepard paused, cocked an eyebrow, braced one palm on the door beside Aethyta's fringe, pulled her in tighter with an arm around her waist. "Need me to slow down?"

"Fuck no." Aethyta wriggled her arms free, unfastening Shepard's tunic, exposing the curves she normally hid beneath a cocoon of weaves and plating, not resisting when the human reciprocated, dispatching her matriarch's garb with ease.

Face to face with the asari, Shepard felt good in her feminine skin, powerful and sexy. It had been a long time since she'd had a partner so similar to herself: she'd forgotten how much she loved female flesh. As it turned out, asari were not only physically analogous to human women: their nervous systems, although more highly evolved, were eerily alike. Shepard exploited this, slowing the pace of her kisses, writhing against Aethyta in an indolent grind, using her biotics to blossom warmth through both of their bodies, at first so subtly as to be barely imperceptible. The matriarch's eyes opened suddenly when she realized what Shepard was doing, surprised that a human could have mastered an ancient asari art. From her lips came nothing but an appreciative moan: Shepard replied with a rush of heat at the base of her spine, a fleeting moment of intense pleasure that left a teasing tingle in its wake.

To hell with men, Shepard thought, flicking her tongue against a pert indigo nipple, the warm softness of Aethyta's breast filling her mouth in a wonderfully satisfying way. She took her time trailing kisses across the asari's abdomen as she knelt, sending waves of energy rippling through her body to build anticipation for what was to come, using biotics to enthrall her in a way that hands and lips alone could not. Shepard's mouth met Aethyta's sex, tongue parting her firmly as she gasped in delight, fingers sliding into slick folds, curling forward, the tip of her tongue tracing merciless circles around her clit. She heard a thud as the asari braced her hands against the door, struggling to remain standing, felt the tension as her muscles clenched and strained, fighting the urge to succumb to the biotics setting her body alight, tasted her becoming sweeter and sweeter as her arousal grew, more luscious even than the spirits that had sparked their brazen encounter.

An asari in ecstacy is a sight to behold: some have described it as a spiritual experience, others in more carnal terms. Her eyes were closed in beatific grace, lips parted in wanton abandon, arms thrown up above her head as she let go of her corporeal form and surrendered to the universe, the climax that began at the center of her being expanding to embrace all of existence. Shepard was thoroughly pleased with herself, and with the gift she'd bestowed upon this downtrodden goddess.

Finally Aethyta opened her eyes, the last swirls of darkness coalescing to form distinct pupils as the veils of individual consciousness returned, shrouding the universe once again in its mysteries.

"I was supposed to blow your mind, honey."

Shepard grinned. "You did. This was exactly what I needed." She bowed her head, twisting to one side, not a trace of sarcasm apparent as she completed the gesture that signified respect to the asari, her motions exaggerated to those appropriate for only the wisest of matriarchs. Astonished once again, Aethyta could do nothing but erupt in a fuchsia blush, bemused and deeply pleased, when Shepard kissed her goodbye and went on her way.

It was inevitable that the commander and her vigilante would at last be reunited, forced to confront the painful truths that Sidonis' murder had brought to light. Garrus was waiting for her in her quarters when she returned from Ilium, a fresh glow still bright on her cheeks. He sat on her couch, feet braced on the table, painstakingly cleaning his rifle to pass the time. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp wave from his taloned hand stopped her abruptly.

"It's fair to say, I think, that no one knows you as well as I do, Shepard." His demeanor was just as it had been when she found him on Omega, his lazy flanging drawl giving the barest of hints as to what lay beneath.

She nodded, and was about to explain further when the hardness of his gaze stopped her again.

"Yet you're still a mystery to me. Sometimes I think I'm starting to understand you, and it turns out I'm dead wrong." He paused, staring her down. "I need to know why, Shepard."

She walked over to him, calm demeanor hiding the knot in her throat, the fear in her chest; she sat beside Garrus on the couch with her legs tucked underneath, and turned to face him.

"Because I had to." Because I love you, said her eyes, but the turian, enraged, saw only pity.

"Don't patronize me, Shepard! You think you're doing me a favor, that I'm some barefaced child in need of coddling? What could you possibly know of vengeance?"

"Nihlus."

"What?"

"Nihlus Kryik. He was a Spectre. Did you know him?"

"I knew of him. Everyone did. What does he have to do with Sidonis?"

"Nothing. Everything. He was with us for the Normandy's maiden voyage to Eden Prime, back when Anderson was her captain, before I became a Spectre. When I first met you on the steps of the Citadel, I was trying to expose Saren for committing Nihlus' murder."

"And?"

"He was my lover. I nearly destroyed myself trying to bring down Saren, and even worse, I put my entire crew in danger. I know Omega changed you, I know I can't make things right, but I knew what would happen if I let you kill Sidonis."

"I'd be satisfied? Vindicated? Find some small shred of peace, even?" His sarcastic snarl twisted a knife into her heart.

"You'd become like me, Garrus." She held up her hands, fingers splayed, palms upturned. Empty.

Garrus said nothing, his accusatory expression giving way to shock, and finally to a flicker of understanding. Words failed him, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. Shepard nestled her head at his collar, burying her face in his armor, the crown of her hair brushing against his injured mandible. He could smell her grief, unmistakable even through the floral notes of her hair: he began to stroke her back ever so gently with the tips of his talons. What had been a mystery to him all these years was clear, now. He'd wanted to be close to her, dreamed for so long of being her mate, but she belonged to another all along.

They sat for a while, his hand tracing patterns over and over again along her spine, steady and reassuring. His heart ached, and he could think of nothing suitable to say, nothing that would express the depths of his emotion, and so he stayed silent, enjoying her company and the chance to give her comfort.

"Thanks, Garrus. I haven't been the same since he died."

"I know the feeling," he said, under his breath but not inaudible, quietly enough that she could choose to act oblivious without losing face. She brought her own hand up, placed her fingertips onto the back of his armor, and traced lines of biotic energy from his fringe to his sacrum, soothing and comforting, affectionate but chaste. Garrus closed his eyes, tucked his chin down to lengthen his spine, and basked in the solace of her touch. Time slowed down, each stroke taking a day, a lifetime, yet when she stopped it seemed only a fleeting moment had passed.

"Are we okay?"

"Yeah."

"Friends, even?"

"Of course we are. Definitely. We may not always see eye to eye, but I'll always have your six, Shepard."

She looked at him: the blast-gnawed edges of his scars were still raw, the heavy toll of his years as a vigilante still very much apparent, but traces of the man she once knew were beginning to shine through his rough exterior. Perhaps, in time, he might one day be happy again. She smiled mischievously: he was letting his guard down, and she might just be able to bring out her old friend. "You going to tell me when you acquired this human fetish of yours?"

He bristled. "I wouldn't call it that. I did experiment a little, before Omega, after you… left."

"Anyone I know?"

"There was Chloe. And Jenna, Rita, Emily…"

"Did they do my species proud?"

"Actually it was pretty disappointing. Especially after what I'd heard about humans."

"Oh?"

"Pallin used to go on and on about how incredible human women were. Better than asari, he used to say, and he meant it. Lorik wasn't so forthcoming, but we got to drinking one night after he sold me a weapons shipment, and he told me stories I couldn't believe. If I didn't know him I'd swear he was twisting my fringe."

"Oh? Did they mention any specific women?"

"No. Should they?"

"Not if they enjoy breathing," she muttered.

"I see. I always wondered why your visits to Port Hanshan took so long."

She blushed. "Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that."

"Why not? You're the commander: how else are you supposed to relax? This ship doesn't even have a sparring arena."

"Yeah, we'll have to fix that."

Garrus laughed, a sound she'd last heard a lifetime ago. "You should have been born turian. You're much better suited to our kind. Humans are so uptight about anything fun."

"Funny, I've heard the same thing said about you."

"Oh, Joker's just holding a grudge. I may have threatened to disembowel him after his escape pod landed without you."

"Huh. When exactly did you turn into such a badass?"

"Around the time I started tagging along with you."

"So, just out of curiosity, what exactly was wrong with human women?"

"For the record, Shepard, that was the least subtle segue I've ever heard. Let's see, besides the fact they had no idea what they were doing? I could barely touch them without my talons and plates scratching everywhere. Chloe didn't speak to me for weeks afterwards: I felt terrible. I was trying to be careful, but…" He sighed. "It's a good thing I didn't get carried away: I could have done some serious damage."

She grunted. "Amateurs. You'd think of all people Chloe would know her way around medigel."

"Why is it human girls are so attracted to turians, anyway?"

"I'm not going to answer that: your ego is big enough already."

"Just so you know, you're safe with me. I've given up on your kind. All style, no substance."

"Oh, don't judge a whole race by a few bad encounters. Hell, the first night I spent with Nihlus I looked like I'd been mauled by a varren."

"It got better?"

She flashed him an evil grin. "Yeah, he stopped holding back. Now give me your hand."

"Why?"

"I have the reputation of my species to salvage. Close your eyes."

Shepard held his hand in hers, feeling its weight, running her fingertips along its contours, sliding her fingers to entwine his and release them. His digits were longer and less numerous, his hand much larger than her own, but it was still unmistakably familiar, and she marveled that two beings with such different physiology could be so similar. She lifted his hand up to caress her cheek, placing kisses on his palm, increasing the stimulus with some carefully placed sharp nips on the sensitive interspaces between his digits. Garrus shivered as she licked her way to the tip of one finger, and it was all she could do to fight the urge to slide it, talon and all, into her mouth, deciding that would cross a line from which she'd be helpless to return.

"So there's that, and stuff." Not her most eloquent moment.

"Fuck." Not his either.

"Goodnight, Vakarian," she said, throwing her arms around him in a tight bear hug before leaving him stunned and alone, gazing out at the stars.

"Goodnight," he said, to no one in particular.

Final chapter coming next...