.11.

-Comfort and Ambition-

.x.

If it was up to me,

I would've never walked out,

so until the sun burns out

oh, I hope you're waiting.

[The Suffering – Coheed & Cambria]

.x.

The geth became shortly thereafter known as Legion, the name bestowed upon him by EDI after our return to the Normandy. I'd made it clear in the colony before we departed that I already considered him a part of the crew and that the choice belonged to me and me alone. The only one to speak out against it at that point was Jacob, but he reluctantly deferred to me after I explained in thorough detail just what had transpired while I'd been aboard the Collector vessel. The others quietly accepted my decision, though I was certain I would hear of their inner concerns in private and at a later time.

In the shuttle, the geth seated at my side, I asked for a rundown of the events of the past two weeks. It was Jacob that spoke first, his tone grim, his gaze constantly flitting to the machine next to me. "Shepard ... Miranda took issue with your decision to promote Garrus to Commander."

Grunt snorted. Garrus shook his head with a wry curve to his mouth, catching my eyes as he muttered, "That's putting it mildly."

"I'm not surprised." I said truthfully, unable to keep the irritation from my voice. "What happened?"

"She took it to the Illusive Man." Jacob replied.

I was unable to tell by either his tone or expression whether he had felt the same as Miranda about my choice. "And?" I prompted, wondering if there was any possible way, once I was back onboard the Normandy, that I could shove the dark-haired Cerberus nightmare out of an airlock without being noticed.

"And he supported your decision."

My eyebrows shot up. That was unexpected. I looked to Garrus, who nodded confirmation. Leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest, I asked, "And how did Miranda take it?"

"I think," Jacob said diplomatically, "that you may need to speak with her when we get back."

I considered this, nodded and tilted my head back until it rested against the cool interior of the shuttle wall. Garrus began to speak then, relating to me what all had happened during my time away. The Illusive Man, after relaying orders to the crew of the Normandy that the turian was now effectively in charge, forwarded two more dossiers to Garrus regarding persons of interest. The first was Tali'Zorah, a quarian woman I knew very well from my time as a Spectre. The second was a veteran mercenary, Zaeed Massani. They had recruited the mercenary, who had then revealed that his joining the team hinged upon a deal made with Cerberus. Garrus himself had led the subsequent mission, hunting down and eliminating an old acquaintance of Massani's, and as a result the mercenary had taken up residence in the Normandy's port cargo area.

During the rest of the time, Garrus explained, Mordin and several of Cerberus' top scientific minds—offered up by the Illusive Man—had worked feverishly at attempting to understand the reason for the Collector's genetic research. While the exact goal of the experimentation still eluded them, they'd come upon a horrific discovery: the Collectors had once been Protheans, but over the eons had evolved to their current insect-like state by means of extensive genetic manipulation. During Mordin's research, Garrus and the others had combed the Terminus Systems, trying to locate the Collector vessel I'd been lost on by visiting remote human colonies they deemed likely targets.

I was silent as Garrus spoke, assimilating what I'd been told and finding myself deeply disturbed by the Prothean-Collector relation. When he finished, I thanked him and looked to Legion. "Did your people know anything about this? About the Protheans becoming Collectors?

His oculus had been angled towards the small shuttle's window, but swivelled back to me as I asked my question. He was quiet for a moment, the flaps above and surrounding his single eye moving in unison. "Our knowledge of the Old Gods is limited, Shepard-Commander. We are not heretics. We chose not to communicate with them when they first approached us. This knowledge is as ... surprising ... to us as it is to you."

My lips quirked a little at his choice of words; I had the impression he was indirectly attempting to put the others at ease by altering his way of speaking. "I thought as much. Thanks anyways."

He nodded once, turning again so that the light from his oculus shone upon the window which now revealed not the blue sky of the planet Yanna Opar, but the impenetrable blackness of space. I felt more at ease than I had in a very long time, knowing we were so near to Normandy, which had become more a home to me than any place else I could recall—even more so than the old Normandy. Thane and Samara, seated side by side, were conversing softly and from what little bit I could overhear, their topic of discussion involved different combat strategies using biotics. Both Jacob and Grunt were staring at Legion in manners that weren't quite friendly, but weren't openly hostile, either. Mordin, seated on the other side of me, was thoroughly engaged in perusing some data housed in his omni-tool. My eyes fell then upon Garrus to find that he was watching me in return.

I studied him intently, comfortably, not regretting the kiss I'd given him in front of the others. It had been more than anything else a declaration, not of love or passion, but of the fact that I had accepted completely how I felt for him, and how he felt for me. The stigma of an attraction between our two kinds, whose mutual animosity reached all the way back to the bloody and turbulent First Contact War, was a burden I refused to shoulder. We craved each other for who we were, rather than what we were. I wanted him for all the things that made him not human. I could have kept my intentions to myself, and in turn he and I could have engaged in a relationship kept secret from the others we served with. But I respected Garrus more than that—while I couldn't give him all my attention and devotion, I would try to give as much as he deserved. By kissing him the way I had, I'd informed the others I considered him far greater than just my equal and that I was completely at ease with what I felt.

As though knowing my thoughts—and perhaps he did—the edges of his mouth tilted upwards into that easy and edged turian smile. I smiled back, knowing he had understood the full implications of what I'd done and had accepted them. His gaze shifted to the window and mine followed and there I saw the Normandy, steadily growing nearer, dark and sleek and beckoning me home.

.x.

My first stop once aboard was the medical lab, at the insistence of Garrus and Mordin. Doctor Chakwas greeted me with a suspicious sheen in her eyes that hinted at tears, but after giving me a brief hug she briskly got down to the business at hand. A thorough examination of my form revealed no long-lasting, residual effects of my time in stasis and aside from the bruising caused by the recoil of the Widow rifle, I was fine. From the med lab I made my way across the mess area, being halted every few steps by members of the crew come to welcome me back, and eventually arrived at the door to Miranda's quarters.

She was seated behind her desk and glanced up as the doors slid open to grant me entry. Her face was unreadable. "Shepard."

"Miranda." I drew closer, stopping a few feet away. I'd opened my mouth to begin the reprimand I'd been mentally rehearsing during the scans in the med lab, but she spoke first.

"I supposed you've heard of my talk with the Illusive Man regarding your choice to put Garrus in command?"

"Yes."

Her eyes upon me were direct and unwavering, so pale a blue they reminded me of the ice-blanketed surface of Alchera, and they were about as warm. "I'll make no apologies," she said candidly, "I doubted your judgement. I still do."

I nodded, having expected this answer. Crossing my arms across my midsection, I regarded her in silence for several moments. There was nothing about her in that moment that I could even try to appreciate; she'd made it clear she didn't trust me from the first, and had persisted with that judgement all this time without even making an effort to learn more about me. Finally and purposefully I asked her, "What is it about Garrus you have an issue with? He's not human enough? Doesn't live and breathe Cerberus propaganda as you do?"

Her eyes narrowed. "He's not a leader, Shepard, and—"

"He managed to successfully organize and lead a group of vigilantes on Omega," I interjected.

"This isn't Omega. This mission is far more vital and has far more to it than just pissing off some merc groups."

"I chose Garrus because I know he can be an efficient leader, Miranda. I chose him because I trust him and because I know he would have made continuing this mission a priority. The choice was mine to make and mine alone."

She said nothing, her lips compressed into a thin, pale line. I went on, finally giving way to my ire, "Your boss gave me this ship. Your boss gave me the prerogative to recruit the suitable candidates he himself had found. Garrus was one of those. And let's not forget, it was your boss that initiated, funded and oversaw the Lazarus Project."

"Everyone makes mistakes." She said in a voice far colder than the ice of her eyes.

An angry, mirthless smile flickered about my mouth. "That's right, I'd almost forgotten. Would I still be a mistake if he'd let you plant that killswitch in my brain?"

"I'm starting to believe bringing you back at all was a mistake, Shepard."

"But your boss doesn't think so," I told her softly and could feel that the upward curve of my lips had become mocking. This was the crux of Miranda's dilemma, and I saw my remark hit home. Color rose in her cheeks, her mouth tightening further into a taut line.

"This is my ship." I took two steps forward and placed my hands flat upon her desk, leaning towards her. "And everyone on board will abide by my decisions. Your boss made it so. As much as you want to dispute it, choosing Garrus to command in my absence was a logical choice. You knew that, but your pride couldn't handle it."

"That's a damn l—"

"Shut up, Miranda. That's an order."

I had the satisfaction of seeing her mouth snap shut and her eyes widen, whether in rage or astonishment at my audacity, I couldn't be sure. I continued, "You preach and pretend to have the fate of humanity as your biggest concern, but when you should have been thinking about that and only that, you lost your head over Garrus' promotion. While you ran off to cry to the Illusive Man, it was Garrus and the rest of the crew working hard on the bigger issue at hand."

She said nothing, hands fisted tightly together in her lap.

"This is where we stand, Miranda. The next time you dispute any order I give, the next time you attempt to undermine my authority, I will see you off this ship. I don't care where we are. I'll maroon you on an asteroid if I have to. Like you said earlier, this mission is vital, far more vital than your tantrums and your wounded pride. Am I understood?"

Had it been possible, the fury in her glare would have been enough to see me torn and bleeding on the ground. When she didn't reply, I snapped, "Am I understood?"

"Perfectly, Commander." She ground out.

Satisfied, carried by a rush of vindictive triumph, I turned and stalked out of her quarters without another word.

.x.

It only took me a few minutes in his company to realize that Zaeed Massani was an asshole, but he was of a different type than Miranda. I liked his harsh and blunt attitude, liked too that he spoke what was on his mind when it was on his mind. We measured each other up, compared a few war stories, and shook hands. While I couldn't be certain of the specifics of his moral compass—wasn't sure I wanted to know—I did know that we needed his skill and fearlessness for this insane quest we found ourselves on.

From port cargo I made my way back up to the crew deck, and once there made a beeline for the mess area. I hadn't eaten anything since the day I'd been captured by the Collectors. Because I'd been in stasis all the functions and process of my body had been suspended, but now that I was free my hunger had gradually and with increasing demand reasserted itself. I procured a warm bowl of noodles in some manner of honeyed sauce from Mess Sergeant Gardner, spent a few minutes assuring him I was okay after my ordeal, and then hastily made my way to an empty table before anyone else could waylay me. I began to eat with quiet gusto, finding the meal to be quite palatable. I'd almost finished when I saw Garrus round the corner in front of my table. He saw me and altered his course to approach.

"Shepard."

I held up a finger, unable to speak for the noodle I was slurping in a most un-ladylike manner into my mouth. He watched, amused, as I chewed frantically and swallowed.

"I'm sorry," I said by way of rueful explanation. "I haven't eaten in a while."

"No apology necessary." He cast a glance around the mess area before sliding onto the chair opposite mine. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Did you talk to Miranda?"

I nodded, smiling fondly at the memory. "Oh yes."

"I know that expression, Shepard. Is she dead?"

I laughed at that. "No. Although I will admit to having the urge to kill her, or at least do some serious bodily harm. No, we had a little talk. Either she makes an effort to correct her behaviour, or we drop her off on the nearest uninhabited rock we fly by."

He chuckled. "I'll confess, I hope she keeps pushing. Being stranded on an uncivilized planet would do her a world of good."

"Agreed." I shovelled the last of the noodles into my mouth with what I hoped was a modicum of elegance. Garrus watched me eat with a faint smile, and when I pushed my bowl away and wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand, he spoke.

"You have a minute? There's something I need to talk to you about."

A teasing, semi-flirtatious statement was poised to fall from my lips, but I noted the way his eyes became suddenly shuttered and knew then that the issue at hand was a serious one. I nodded, standing and sliding the chair back, and gestured in the direction of the main battery. He rose as well and began to walk and I followed close behind. Once inside the battery he stood facing the weapons array. Staring at the line of his back, which had tensed the moment the door sealed behind us, I felt a small kernel of worry begin to churn in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong.

I moved to take a seat on the same metal crate I'd occupied many days before during the last time we'd both been here alone. Recollections of just how that meeting had ended crept into the fringe of my thoughts, but I pushed them aside and waited for Garrus to speak. Finally he turned to face me, his expression a mix of anger and resolve.

"One of my contacts has found Sidonus."

I arched a brow, mutely urging him to continue. He sighed, a sound of weary frustration, and shook his head. "Look Shepard … I know we've got a lot going on right now. I know we're fighting a war bigger than any of our individual petty concerns, but …"

I knew instinctively what he wanted. "Where is he?" I asked quietly.

"The Citadel. He's paid someone for a new identity."

"I hope he didn't pay them too much, given you still know where he is."

Garrus' smile was both chilling and feral. "Sometimes it pays to have friends in low places. Shepard, I wouldn't ask this if I didn't think he might bolt. I don't know how long he'll remain on the Citadel, but I don't think it will be for long. I'll understand if you say no."

I was quiet as I thought about it. He was right—the situation as it stood didn't allow for personal crusades and vendettas, but it also didn't allow for any of the team to be distracted by unresolved issues. We all needed to have our heads in the game in order to pull off the miracle needed for victory, and so after a moment I nodded decisively. "We'll do it."

I could see some of the tension ease from his frame and he relaxed visibly. "Thank you, Shepard. I mean it."

I got to my feet and nodded again. "I know you do, Garrus. I'll tell Joker to head for Citadel space. We'll get this taken care of."

We stood facing each other in silence then. Suddenly, we were no longer Commander and subordinate. The ramifications of the kiss I'd given him on Yanna Opar hung suspended between us, a complicated, tangled mass that seemed right then to be too difficult to unravel.

He spoke first. "Turians don't come equipped to kiss as humans do …"

My laughter echoed throughout the main battery. "I like you without lips."

"Indeed." His flanged voice rumbled with mirth, but it faded as he went on, his mien abruptly solemn. "You sure about this? About the others knowing how we, ah … feel?"

"Absolutely." There was no hesitation in my answer. "Garrus, I don't care who knows. I'd go talk to the Illusive Man right now if you asked and tell him about what I want to share with you. Life is too short to not go for what's good and for what you really want. And I've already died once," I said, and then paused as I tried to structure my thoughts into some semblance of coherency. "I could've died on that ship. We could both die tomorrow—"

"Happy thoughts, Shepard," he said as casually as he would to remind me to switch the safety off before shooting.

"There's no shame in this," I fluttered a hand back and forth between us. "And I'm too old to be running around indulging in a secret romance."

Garrus snorted. "I'm far older than you."

Several sayings, most of them including references to age and experience, flitted through my mind, but I discarded all of them in an effort to appear dignified. Experiencing an unwelcome bit of uncertainty, I asked softly, "Was I wrong to do it?"

He sighed again, and I felt a little sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I'd read him wrong earlier—maybe while I'd been gone, he'd had a change of heart. As though reading my thoughts on my face, which was not an improbability by any means, he stepped towards me and said hastily, "No, Shepard, it's not that. Nothing about what I want has changed. It's just … I came across this old human saying, during my research." My hands balled into fists involuntarily as I recalled what just what he'd been researching. "`Better friends than lovers', you know?"

I nodded.

"I respect you far too much to jeopardize the relationship we've built. As much as I want you … and as much as you want me, I hope …" He cast a querying glance in my direction and wordlessly, I nodded again. "What if it's not what we want? What if we can't come back from it to the way we are now?"

"If," I told him and was gratified to find my voice remained steady, "you're not certain, Garrus, I will understand. But I know what I want. And I know it will be just like what we've experienced before—better, even."

His gaze was unflinchingly earnest. "If you're still sure, Shepard, then so I am."

I swallowed firmly, unable to find anything else to say to convey the strength of both my attraction and dedication. He took a step towards me, reached out and laid a hand against my cheek. "Turians aren't … as a race, we're not given to the same displays of affection and comfort as humans are. Humans use touch for so many things—and from what I've read, you crave it. Not just in terms of sex …" He trailed off, eyes leaving mine to roam the contours of my face and in an intense echo of what he'd just said, I found myself yearning for his touch.

"I want to comfort you, Shepard. I guess that makes me a bad turian. I don't know how—you may have noticed my race isn't really built in a way that accommodates … cuddling, I think it's called?"

"You're doing fine," I told him with a smile, and turning my head I pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. His other arm went around me, settling about my waist and pulling me unresisting in against him. As he'd said, the sharp angles and odd contours of his body made for an awkward embrace, but after a bit of shifting about I managed to find the spot where we fit together just right. I laid my cheek against the hardness of his inhuman chest and found that if I listened closely his heart beat just as mine did. I turned my head and brushed my mouth across the line of his neck.

"You're okay?" He asked me, and the dual-tones of his voice vibrated in a very pleasant way against my lips. I knew what he was really asking me—whether I'd really come through my ordeals on the Collector vessel unscathed.

"I am." I assured him. Fleetingly, the image of the mother and her child danced in my mind, but I quickly locked it away. Slowly, reluctantly, I stepped away and out of his embrace.

"After … Sidonis …" he said haltingly, and I knew he'd been as affected by my nearness as I'd been by his. "When he's dead, and that mess is behind me … you and I, I want to, ah …"

"Me too." I said, and with great regret took my leave.

.x.

We arrived at the Citadel a full cycle later. I granted the crew a few hours leave. Garrus and I headed for the C-Sec office, armored and armed, on the hunt for a turian named Sidonis.

.x.