A/N - Thank you to all those who have stuck with me on this story! Your support keeps me motivated, and the reviews keep me writing. :)
This was a bit of an odd chapter for me. Shepard's epiphany at the end wrote itself, and the rest of the chapter evolved around that. Sadly, I had to cut out a number of scenes I quite liked, and Anderson didn't get as much time as I'd have liked... but I hope you enjoy anyway.
The Citadel's Presidium stretched out far below, full of clean, sleek lines and dark green patches of parklands. Fully aware of the scrutiny from the man standing beside her, Shepard stared fixedly across the Presidium. She found herself in the unfortunate position of having no idea what the hell to say to her former CO. While the meeting with the Council had gone better than she'd hoped, not as badly as she'd feared, it still left her trying to explain her current involvement with Cerberus to Anderson. She knew he wasn't happy about it, but it was her call and she wasn't about to apologise for it. Besides, she wasn't entirely satisfied by his explanation for the Horizon situation either.
"At least you didn't bring one of your Cerberus crew along," Anderson said with a sigh. "That wouldn't have gone down well."
For a moment, Shepard let herself picture Miranda going toe to toe with the Council. Their autocratic absolutism smack bang up against Miranda's razor-sharp intelligence and ego... She didn't know which party would be more frustrated by the end of it, but she knew it would be a hell of a fight to watch. It was enough to drag a corner of her mouth upwards. Spotting it, Anderson seemed to relax a little.
"Still, a former STG operative..." The old soldier glanced thoughtfully over to the corner of his office, where Mordin and Garrus were standing awkwardly, trying to look unobtrusive. "Impressive, Commander. It certainly impressed the Council."
"How could you tell?" She didn't even think they'd recognized Mordin. They certainly hadn't spoken to him.
"I've worked with them for the past two years. They may not be as easy to read as a human, but after a while, you pick up a few things. Your Doctor Solus impressed them. Bringing him along was a good idea, reminded them you're not just a Cerberus soldier."
Shepard straightened sharply, her gloved hands clenching around the balcony edge. "I'm not a Cerberus soldier at all."
Anderson regarded her closely for a moment, then nodded once. "I'll buy that. So did they, or they'd never have reinstated you as a Spectre."
"And the Alliance? What do they think?" Shepard carefully kept her gaze locked onto an elcor ponderously making his way across a walkway several stories below.
"As far as we're concerned, now that your KIA status has been corrected, you're back on the books, Commander. You're assigned to Admiral Hackett's Fifth Fleet sector command. Same as before. If you screw up out there, he'll be the one riding your ass about it."
Shepard cleared her throat. "Glad to hear it." There were other words, but they stuck in her throat. Ever since an Alliance frigate rescued her and the few other survivors from Mindoir, Shepard had been loyal to them above all else. The Alliance had become her family, to replace those lost so many years ago. Being officially drummed out of the service would have hurt something deep inside.
The look Anderson directed at her said he got it. They were both career military; lifers. It was probably why Anderson had been so sure she'd come when he called. The old soldier glanced over her shoulder, and she saw him frown slightly.
"I see you're still knocking around with that turian from C-Sec. Have you recruited any others from your old crew?"
Shepard followed his gaze to where Garrus and Mordin were ostentatiously inspecting a potted plant. Mordin appeared to be delivering a lecture – presumably on some obscure aspect of its biology – while Garrus had his 'I wish something would start shooting at us so we can do something' face on.
"Garrus is my lucky charm. I don't leave home without him." The Commander looked back to Anderson, and let herself relax a little further. "We've got Tali back on board as well, she's overseeing some upgrades to the Normandy's shielding at the moment. We'll probably be here for another day or so."
There was a delicate pause. "And then?"
Damn it, Anderson, you know better than to ask me that.
Shepard pushed away from the balcony she'd been leaning on, resolutely turning her back on the pristine view of the far-below Presidium. "Then we head back out. Probably towards Illium to pick up a few more people."
She could almost feel Anderson's curiosity pulsing off him. A sideways look in his direction showed that her old friend was staring blankly into the distance, a muscle jumping along his jaw line. It was an old tell of Anderson's; he always got that tic when he was thinking too hard.
"People who ally with Cerberus... tend to end up dead," he finally said.
He's worried about my safety. The realization that it was her current ally he mistrusted, rather than her, was a pleasant one. It was good to know he still had faith in her.
"The Council doesn't want to believe in the Reapers. The Alliance refuses to. You and I both know they're real, and they're coming. I'm not playing politics here, Anderson. I'm fighting a war, and I'm using every resource at my disposal to do so."
He still wouldn't look at her, staring fixedly out across the Presidium. Not for the first time, Shepard wondered what dealings he'd had with Cerberus in the past.
"I'll keep in touch when I can," Commander Shepard offered, waiting for him to turn to face her. When he did, she looked him right in the eye. He studied her with that piercing gaze she remembered all too well from time spent serving under his command. She could see that he wanted to argue; he wanted to pull her back into Alliance rank and command structure, and keep her away from Cerberus' influence.
But Anderson was too damn smart for that. He knew the importance of what she was doing. Unlike the Council, Anderson believed in the Reapers. He knew the threat they posed to humanity, and the galaxy at large. Shepard waited patiently; waited for him to make the right call. After a few moments, he summoned up a grim smile for her.
"Give 'em hell, Commander," Anderson instructed her firmly.
Shepard hadn't saluted in years, but damn, she almost wanted to now. Instead, she gave him a quick grin that hopefully conveyed her gratitude and relief. She'd had few CO's better than Anderson, and none she'd have trusted to back her on this.
"Always do, sir," she assured him.
"Spectre status reinstated. Alliance rank reinstated. Congratulations, Shepard," Mordin commended her, pressing his thin, scarred head forward between the front seats of the skycar.
Shepard shot him a surprised look. It was the first thing any of them had said since leaving the Presidium. They hadn't stuck around once she'd concluded her business with Anderson. Outside of his office and in the diplomatic territory of the Presidium, three people in battered armor were an anomaly that alarmed the local citizens. Shepard had led them straight down to the nearest transit station and ushered the two men onto the first public vehicle she'd spotted, before someone called security on them.
"That went better than I expected," she admitted.
Garrus was frowning. "The Council has us doing their dirty work again."
"Council believes socio-political stability demands denial of the Reaper threat. Acknowledgement of Shepard's mission requires acknowledgement of Reaper threat," Mordin explained regretfully.
"The bitch of it is, they might even be right. We'll need a central command when the Reapers come, or we'll be slaughtered." Shepard found herself frowning as well. This wasn't a new thought, but it was one she had yet to find a solution for. "But we have to work around the Council, if they aren't even going to acknowledge the Reapers exist."
Garrus snorted in disgust. "We reverse engineered so much new technology from the remains of Sovereign. I can't believe they really think that was geth technology."
"Me either," Shepard agreed grimly. "The Council are too smart for their own good. If it turns out that I'm right, they take the credit for having spotted the threat early on, and taken steps to investigate. If I'm wrong, they're on record as saying they don't believe me. Either way, they look good to their constituents."
"Assuming Reapers don't kill all their constituents," Mordin piped up cheerfully.
Shepard grimaced, staring out a window and watching the Presidium fall behind, as they crossed over into the 'arm' of the massive station which housed Zakera Ward.
Garrus cleared his throat. "Well, that's depressing. Any word from Tali on how the CBT shielding installation is going?"
"Nothing yet," the Commander answered him, grateful for the topic change. "She gave me an ETA of 17 hours before we left for the Council meeting. We're at liberty till she's finished. Gardner's restocking supplies, and the crew seem happy to get some shore leave."
"Excellent!" Mordin exclaimed, again leaning eagerly between the two front seats to peer around at them. "Sufficient time to view entire elcor performance of Hamlet. Am told it is considered unparalleled demonstration of adaptation of classic human literature to formal elcor style. Has achieved significant renown! Can arrange tickets for all of us, know a volus who works in the theatre. Have been promised excellent seating!"
Shepard leaned back sharply from the enthusiastic salarian, waiting hopefully for the punch line. She should have known better. Salarians might have a sense of humour, but it was never that obvious.
Oh hell. The elcor version of Hamlet lasts for fourteen hours, she remembered in faint alarm.
"Uhh... That would be great, but Garrus and I already have plans, don't we?"
Garrus looked over the disgruntled salarian at her in bemusement.
"Does not involve working, I hope? Weapon upgrades, training reviews? Insist you take shore leave, all crew should do so. In order to achieve maximum success in fight against Collectors, must maintain stress-free work environment, best assured by relaxed commander and..." Mordin eyed Garrus speculatively. "...Crew. Doctor's orders."
Garrus seemed to have caught on that justifying their refusal with the excuse of more calibrations wasn't going to cut it. Mordin was levelling a cool stare over them, reminding them both that he'd been recruited for more than his medical skills.
"The Dark Star," the turian blurted quickly. "We were going to the Dark Star, weren't we Commander?"
Shepard nodded immediately. "That's the plan. Get a few drinks, maybe catch up with some of the crew. Garrus here said he might even dance."
She wasn't above messing with him a little, but that's what he got for suggesting a bar as their most plausible excuse. Honestly, his bad habits from the old C-Sec days were clearly rearing their head. Garrus shot her a look that promised retribution.
"Let's not get too hasty, Commander. I believe that was only on the condition that you could handle an entire mug of ryncol and not pass out," he drawled back.
Mordin looked immediately alarmed. "Strongly advise against it, Commander! Elcor presentation of Hamlet far less likely to produce long term trauma!"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Shepard muttered under her breath, before summoning a reassuring smile for the good doctor. "Don't worry, Mordin. I'm not going to do anything irresponsible. And I promise I'll be home by midnight."
Mordin opened his mouth to reply, when the vehicle banked sharply down towards the Zakera Ward. The salarian waited until they'd all climbed out before taking up his cause again.
"Quality of recreational activity more important than quantity. Expect you to obey your own commands, Shepard. All crew at liberty. Will call EDI to check on you during intermission," Mordin advised firmly, his doctor voice carrying trace tones of scary-salarian-STG-operative. Shepard resisted the urge to grimace.
"If we're still drinking in seven hours, you'll have to send Miranda to bail us out after somebody - and I'm not pointing any fingers -" Shepard cast a suggestive glance over Vakarian, "- starts another drunken bar brawl."
Garrus coughed. "That only happened the once."
Mordin gave them another firm stare. "Will check with EDI," he warned, before turning on his heel and sliding between two passing groups of pedestrians. Even with his distinctive damaged horn, she lost track of his bobbing head quite quickly.
Shepard turned to pin the turian with a challenging stare. "Dark Star Lounge? Really?"
Garrus looked embarrassed. "I panicked. What would you prefer, that I suggest we were visiting the Museum of Hanar Modern Art? At least he believed this."
On second thought... good point.
"Well, unless we want him to start dosing us with experimental hallucinogens to make us relax, we might as well go get one drink. It's not like there's anything vital waiting for us on the Normandy anyway," Shepard reasoned.
"Actually, I did leave a few programs running in the main battery..."
Shepard could see the hesitation, the uncertainty drifting behind bright blue eyes. He'd still been too damn tense today, and Mordin's advice seemed suspiciously sensible. She gave him a firm shove in the direction of Dark Star. "Your damn calibrations can wait a few more hours, Vakarian."
When they arrived, Shepard realized the Dark Star must have been renovated since her last visit there, on a two-day layover several years back. The music hadn't gotten any better, but the decor was a little classier. Neon lights split the general gloom, and it was at least light enough for Shepard to be reassured it was as clean and hygienic as a Citadel club could be expected to be.
Miles ahead of the Afterlife on Omega, that's for sure.
"I guess I owe you a drink anyway, Shepard," Garrus said, to her surprise.
"You do?"
"Mmm." He nodded to a corner table where a trio of salarians were leaving. "Go get us a table."
Unsure what to say to that, Shepard shut up and staked out the table; Garrus headed straight for the bar. It was either the weapons or the armor, but not many of the Ward's casual evening crowd – mostly blue-collar workers from the nearby factory district – wanted to challenge her for the table once she'd laid claim to it.
Sitting there, Shepard realized this was only the second time she had been anywhere with Garrus that wasn't part of a mission. The first time had also been on the Citadel, directly after Sovereign's attack when she and her crew were all flying high on adrenaline and relief over their victory. It had been some dive in the Kithoi Ward, and they'd all gotten drunk off their asses. The highlight of the night had been Tali and Wrex deciding to sing a karaoke duet. In retrospect, Garrus might have deliberately started that bar fight just to make them stop.
"It's not ryncol, and I'm not dancing," Garrus informed her bluntly as he placed a batarian liquor down in front of her.
Rolling her eyes up at him, Shepard took the drink but not the bait. She flashed him a quick grin as the lanky turian folded himself into the seat opposite her. "Thanks for having my back with the Council this morning, big guy."
"Just part of the service, Shepard. They've got their heads so far up their asses, they won't know the Reapers are here until they're thanking us for saving their lives. Again."
"You're optimistic today." Shepard smirked up into his quizzical expression. "You actually think they'd thank us?"
She was pleased when that startled a laugh out of him. Shepard watched over the rim of her glass as her friend relaxed a little further, leaning back into his chair.
"So why did you owe me a drink?"
Garrus went still for a moment, and looked away, apparently studying the gyrating figures on the dance floor. "Because you were right about Sidonis. He turned himself in this morning," he answered finally. "Of course, it's not like it will really make a difference. Omega is outside the Citadel's jurisdiction. C-Sec won't be able to prosecute him for what he did."
That's not the point and you know it.
"He kept his word," she pointed out quietly. It was the first she'd heard of Sidonis' surrender, but she at least was glad to hear of it.
Garrus' mandibles were pressed close to his face; a sure sign that he was agitated. "For whatever good it will do."
"It shows you were right about him. There was good left in him."
She saw his jaw work, mandibles shifting into a faint smile. "My instincts said to shoot him, Shepard. Yours were right on the money."
"You believed in him once. Besides, you had a clear shot towards the end, Vakarian. You didn't take it," she reminded him carefully.
"You made a good case," he replied blandly.
Are all turians this damn stubborn? She could see the stiffness in his body language, and the sharp angles of his mandibles. He was still dealing with his choice to let Sidonis live, and he didn't want to talk about it. Shepard sighed and held up her hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine! I'm dropping it."
"Good to hear. You know we're both terrible at small talk," he drawled, smirking at her. "So instead of talking about Grunt's moodiness, or how much of the Normandy's supplies Kasumi will have pawned before we get back, or what exactly Joker was doing the other day when I walked into the cockpit... there's something I've been meaning to ask you, Shepard. What is it about husks that freaks you out so much these days?"
The question took her by surprise and hit her where she lived. Shepard's hands tensed and curled into fists. Garrus caught it immediately; he was watching her with such sudden deliberation that she almost felt like something under Mordin's microscope.
"Well, don't you pay attention. I didn't think anybody had noticed."
Unless it was a hell of a lot more obvious than she'd thought. Had she slipped? Lost her edge in the field? Shepard was thinking back to Horizon, replaying the mission on her mental view screen.
"Nothing obvious, Shepard. Relax." Garrus leaned back, giving her space. "You react differently to them now. Almost like they... frighten you. Am I wrong?"
Those damn bird eyes were pinning her like a hawk, pinning her to the damn table. She'd have liked the luxury of getting angry at him for prying, but hell, hadn't she just planted herself between him and revenge less than a day ago? Garrus deserved something in return for her deliberate meddling in his life, and if this was what he was picking... well, it could have been worse.
He could have asked about Kaidan.
Shepard took a deep breath and forced herself to answer. "You're not wrong. I didn't notice it myself till we were on Horizon, and halfway through the mission. I never used to have a problem with them... No more than anyone else, at least. Sure, they're creepy as hell, but... it was only after I died, after I talked to Miranda about how they brought me back... I've been wondering how much of them is in me now?"
In her peripheral vision, she saw him pull back in reaction. Without looking up, the commander laid her hands out on the table before them, and deliberately – one by one – pulled off her gloves. Leaving her hands bare, she pressed them palm down on the table so that the faint tracings of cybernetics underneath the backs of her hands were visible. Her hands were rock steady but her breath rattled in her throat as she exhaled.
"Cerberus built me back up, just like the geth do with the husks. Cybernetics and god knows what. We know Cerberus have access to husk samples... you were there at Chasca. How much of that technology did they use to bring me back?" she asked flatly, as Garrus stared at the faint lines of cybernetics tracing her hands. The scars were gone from her face, but not from her body. "Despite what Miranda says, I'm not entirely sure how much of me is human these days, big guy."
This is getting depressing again. Weren't we supposed to be having fun?
Commander Shepard smiled regretfully, and picked up the nearby glove to pull it back on. But to her surprise, Garrus moved suddenly, and one three-fingered hand stretched to cover both of hers. Startled, she looked up at him and what she saw there was not what she expected.
There was no horror, no revulsion. No careful tactical analysis of what would be necessary to take her down if whatever Cerberus had done one day consumed her. There was instead a fierceness she normally only saw in him during combat. With as much deliberation and care as she had shown, Garrus lifted his huge, armored hands and methodically removed his own gloves. When his three-fingered hands were as bare as her own, he placed them down on either side of hers, palms down.
Next to them, her hands looked as small and pale as a child's. Shepard stared at the image for a moment, then blinked and peered up at him curiously.
"I should have died on Omega, Shepard. If you hadn't come across that bridge, I would have," Garrus told her flatly in that quiet, flanging drawl. "So if you're asking if I care whether Cerberus used husk, geth, or hell, even Reaper technology to bring you back... the answer is, I don't. I never will. I don't give a damn what went into bringing you back, because when I saw you in my scope, I knew it was really you. Nobody else could have pulled me out of that hellhole on Omega... nobody else could have gotten Miranda on side or done half the crap you've done since you came back... and I'm damn sure nobody else would stand in my line of fire and stop me from making what was probably going to be the biggest mistake of my life."
Aw, hell, she was almost blushing. Shepard opened her mouth to answer, but found she didn't have anything coherent to say, and closed it again sharply. It made him smirk.
"Shepard," he purred across the table at her. "You're the most aggravating, stubborn, frustrating, defiant and sometimes downright insane person I've ever met in my life. Nothing in Cerberus' bag of tricks is good enough to recreate that. It's all you, Commander."
At that, she gave a sharp bark of laughter, and felt a deep-down tension uncurl within her. Shepard studied her friend in bemusement. "Thanks, Garrus."
He tilted his head at her, avian-style. "Who said it was a compliment?"
She laughed again, and this time it was real. Damn, she was glad she'd found him again on Omega. Shepard wasn't sure she'd have made it this far without him. On the heels of that thought, the Commander realized that while Mordin's instructions might have some validity to them, they were going about this all wrong. Because this wasn't what Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian did to relax. Dingy bars and overpriced booze? Not their style. Of course, neither was interpretive Shakespeare.
His hands still rested either side of hers, and Shepard nudged one lightly with her fingertip. "Think we've been here long enough to keep Mordin off our backs? We only promised one drink."
Garrus' smirk broadened. "Reconsidering your refusal on that elcor play?"
"You'd have to shoot me first," she assured him. "But I just realized I'd rather be in my own damn cabin, planning out our next mission. The alcohol isn't as good, but it's cheaper, you won't have to suffer through this noise pollution they call music, and at least my fish aren't going to get drunk and yell abuse at us or throw up in a corner. What do you say, big guy? Can I tempt you away from a night of drunken debauchery?"
"I thought you'd never ask," he drawled back in clear relief. "Can we go right now?"
Shepard grabbed her gloves and stood up, yanking them on. "Hell yes."
The cargo area around the Normandy's docking slip was a hive of activity when they reached it. Normandy crew and Citadel dock workers were rapidly sorting their way through several piles of crates and pallets, all marked with the names and insignia of vendors from the Citadel. Shepard paused for a moment to watch in surprise. At least some of this stuff would be the supplies she had authorized Gardner to take on board. Food, maintenance inventory, general consumables that a ship the size of the Normandy ate up at an alarming rate. But it looked like the crew of the Normandy had been doing a little shopping themselves. At least, Shepard didn't remember authorizing purchases from Erala's Erotic Emporium.
"What the hell?"
Shepard began taking a closer look at some of the waybills fastened to the containers piled around her, checking what was being brought on board and who for. After a moment, she paused and looked up at Garrus in bemusement.
"Action figures. Grunt is buying action figures?" she asked in disbelief.
Of them all, Grunt probably had the most legitimate need to purchase personal goods. He only owned his armor and his weapons and she wasn't going to begrudge him a few personal necessities but still...
Garrus chuckled at her confused expression. "Boys will be boys, Commander. Even krogan boys, apparently."
Shepard really hoped the box from Erala's Erotic Emporium wasn't also for Grunt.
"Commander!"
She looked up to see Gardner approaching, looking distinctly less surly than usual. He had a datapad tucked under his arm, and had clearly been overseeing the inventorying of new supplies before he spotted her.
"We're just about fully restocked now, Commander. I'm waiting on the dextro food supplies and then we're good to go whenever the modifications are complete. Should be here in the next half hour," he informed her with deep satisfaction.
Beside her, Garrus jerked in surprise. "Dextro food?"
Gardner smirked up at him. "You betcha, Vakarian. The Commander suggested I try my hand at a few turian and quarian delicacies. Tali sent me through a list of do's and don'ts for preparing dextro based food. Give me a few days to learn how to cook with this stuff without killing you, and you two can eat in the mess instead of living on that pre-packaged junk." Looking about him with the manner of a king surveying his kingdom, Gardner gave a contented sigh and hurried off to assist a crewman with the inventorying.
Shepard smiled upwards at the still-puzzled turian. "Figured you could use some decent food too."
Garrus studied her briefly. "Thank you."
"Just taking care of my crew, big guy. How about you grab something you can eat on the go and bring it up to my cabin?"
The turian glanced around the organised chaos carefully, and nodded. "Let me check on those programs I left running in the main battery, and I'll meet you up there in half an hour."
"Don't make me come find you," she threatened, and watched him weave carefully through the crates and passing crew and dock workers, smirking to herself. Garrus had never been very good at accepting kindness from others; he never seemed to expect it, and was always vaguely puzzled about how he should react to it. Was it a turian thing or something in his background that made him so innately paranoid?
Shepard glanced around, and paused when she caught sight of a crewman unloading supplies, who had stopped in his task to stare at her in apparent surprise.
"Problem?" she asked blandly.
The crewman blinked. "No ma'am." He turned his back immediately, bending back down to continue scanning inventory into his handheld reader. She could see the tips of his ears turning red, but dismissed it with a shrug and headed out of the cargo area herself.
It was only a few minutes later, as she entered the elevator and hit the button for deck one, that Shepard realized how her comment to Garrus could be taken.
Aw hell... I meant a tactical meeting, not a... a dinner date! That's ridiculous, Vakarian and I aren't... we're...
What? At this point, Shepard stopped short, wondering exactly how to finish that sentence. Soldiers? War buddies? He was the one damn person in this entire screwed up universe that she actually trusted, and...
Friends, she concluded firmly. We're... friends.
Friends seemed inadequate, but Shepard could honestly admit she'd never thought of him romantically before. He was turian, after all. Something about that struck her as alarming. She had never considered herself xenophobic, but was that why she had turned Liara down? At the time, she'd thought it was simply because asari looked too feminine and whatever else she was or wasn't, Shepard knew she was pretty damn hetero.
What about Garrus then? At least he was male. Shepard crossed her arms, frowning thoughtfully as she mentally stripped him of his weapons and tried to look at him as just some guy, rather than a turian.
Well. To start with, Garrus was honest and strong and loyal; without a doubt one of the most brilliant tacticians she'd ever come across. When all of that sharp-edged intelligence and fierce dedication was narrowed down into a weapon offered up for her use, it did almost take her breath away. Of course, he didn't have lips and how would you kiss a turian anyway, with those mandibles in the way? But he was taller than her, and bigger, despite those bird bones of his. He would curl around her like some giant, sharp-edged cat, all long limbs and hot skin, and something in that idea was strangely appealing.
Shepard thought of how close his bare hands had been to hers not so long ago. Turian flesh might be firmer than a human's, but she knew his hands were still as soft as suede. She liked his awkwardness, and the adorable babbling he inevitably derailed into whenever he got nervous. She liked that just when she'd gotten used to him being awkward, he'd blindside her by throwing out some impossibly suave line in that low drawl he used...
She grinned a little.
Mm, that voice.
Shepard's eyes snapped open in sudden shock, as she realized how incredibly not difficult at all it was to picture Garrus Vakarian without his guns. Her eyes widened further when she realized the elevator had stopped at some point and she hadn't noticed, the door gaping wide open onto deck one.
"Oh hell."
"Commander," EDI responded politely. "Is something wrong?"
"No." Shepard coughed. "No, just lost in thought. Thanks EDI."
Pushing herself off the wall of the elevator with as much composure as she could manage, Shepard made her way swiftly to her cabin, her thoughts rebounding frantically on each other. What the hell had been in that drink Garrus bought her? As much as she tried to focus, she just kept coming back to the new mental picture she'd constructed of Garrus. It was as if everything she already knew about him had suddenly undergone a slight perception shift, and Shepard was having a hard time getting it back to normal.
Well. Okay. That was a surprise, but at least I'm not secretly a xenophobe. Now how do I turn this off?
Shepard dropped down into the chair in front of her terminal, leaning back into it and closing her eyes tightly. Her little bout of self-examination had opened up something entirely unexpected, and she wasn't really sure what to do about it. Maybe she just needed to get laid. It had been over two long years (did it matter that she'd been dead for most of it?) since she and Kaidan were together. Maybe this was just hormones, and a cold shower would settle her down.
Or maybe she had just admitted to herself that she found her right hand man incredibly fucking hot, in a strange and unexpected way.
And he was coming up for dinner – just dinner, just two soldiers having dinner and planning strategy – in less than an hour. Except hell, there was probably no better first date in the universe for a woman like her. Shepard groaned and shook her head.
"Isn't it great that I have the fate of the galaxy to distract me from this awkward moment of self-enlightenment?" she remarked to her fish tank, pushing herself back onto her feet.
Garrus had just been through hell with Sidonis, and the last thing Shepard intended to do was confuse him even more by acting strangely around him. Whatever the hell was going on in her head was her issue, and she'd deal with it. Besides, it was probably just a random thought that didn't mean anything anyway.
She and Garrus were just friends. And if they weren't, well, she still had bigger things to worry about than what that might mean.
In the meantime, she'd take the cold shower.