Shepard wakes up in a daze. It takes her a few seconds to recognize her surroundings, and a good minute to gather her wits. Her body feels strangely light and heavy at once, and it's wonderful. It has been so long since the last time she felt this rested. She stretches slowly, willing her muscles to start working again, and lets out a long, contented yawn.

It takes her a little while to remember where they are. The stars are still above her, so they're not in FTL right now. Ah, right, Lesuss.

She bolts upright, panic coursing through her body and forcibly jolting it awake. Flashes of yesterday night's events suddenly rush through her foggy mind in a jumbled mess. Garrus was here. She had to put him in charge. Did she do it? Damn, she should never have drank that whiskey. Ah, yes, he wanted to bring Vega. And… oh.

She runs a hand on her face as scattered shards of memories slowly fall back into place. She did it. Her very last selfish request. And fate must really hate her because she could barely remember any of it. Worse, she had no idea how she ended up in bed. She freezes for a minute, trying to hypothesize what must have happened through the mind numbing fog of her rising fear.

Dropping her hand, she frantically looks around her, searching for clues. Did she get there on her own? If she did, then hopefully it means she was alert enough to cover her tracks properly. But her crutches are not here, so the probability is pretty low. If Garrus did put her there… then the equation suddenly has too many variables to compute, but at least it's not necessarily a bad sign. You don't tuck friends in like a mother hen if your friendship is FUBAR, right? He's a sweet guy, but he takes betrayal too seriously to overlook it to this extent. Well, or so she hopes.

Not really comforted by her conclusions, she flops back down. She had intended to nullify the trigger, but she can't remember if she did it. Probably not. Now this is problematic. She had chosen words that had a low probability to end up in a normal sentence, so she will have a hard time testing them again. She couldn't just blurt them out now, it would just be too weird if the trigger is not working anymore, and there was a possibility that it would make… things resurface. She couldn't make assumptions based on what she knew about Human hypnosis, even though it has worked so far.

Thinking back on the first "dives", she really wonders what she was thinking at the time. What if the trigger hadn't worked? She would have just stood there in the main battery spewing something utterly nonsensical that happened to be an order, grammatically speaking. Garrus was many things, but an idiot definitely wasn't one of them. He used to be a C-Sec investigator for crying out loud, and a good one at that. He would have eventually connected the dots, most certainly.

There's a good chance that he has now, she thinks bitterly, pressing the heels of her hands on her eyes.

"EDI?" She lets her arms fall heavily on the mattress.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Where is Garrus at the moment?" She moves to sit on the edge of the bed and rests her elbows on her lap, her head falling down.

"On Lesuss, with Liara and James. I can open a connection if you wish."

Her head perks up. They shouldn't be there yet.

"How long did I sleep?" she asks, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Fourteen hours and twenty three minutes."

Oh wow. She really had reached her limits, hadn't she?

"I'm amazed no one hacked my door to check on me yet. Or pinged me, at the very least," she mumbles, checking her omni-tool for any recent instant messages. Surprisingly, there is none.

"I buffered your private messages while you were asleep." Immediately, a short stream of worried messages pop up on her interface with a series of low beeps. "I also took the liberty to inform the crew of your well-being and discourage any attempt at waking you up."

How thoughtful and observant. She pauses, and resists the urge to groan. Of fucking course. If anyone can fill in the blanks, it's EDI.

"How did I get in my bed?" she asks warily.

"Garrus carried you there while you were asleep."

Urgh, not good. She winces, clicking her tongue. For a moment, she considers asking for the whole story. Does she really want to know? Probably not. She had reached her quota of mortification for the month. However, she still needed to know what to expect, and it essentially boiled down to one thing.

"Was he mad at me?" she breathes out, closing her eyes, feeling her heart rate speed up and waves of dread tingle under her skin.

"No."

She opens her eyes, her back relaxing a little.

"Are you sure?" she insists, hopeful.

"Yes, Shepard. I have gathered and analyzed all the information the extranet has to offer on the body language of all sentient species to optimize the communication abilities of my mobile platform." She actually sounds smug, and maybe a little offended. "I can assure you that according to the available data on Turians, the way he handled you was careful and affectionate, not angry."

She doesn't even try to suppress the heavy sigh of relief that escapes her lips. Heh. Careful and affectionate? A soft smile tugs at her lips. So he didn't catch on after all. Fate didn't hate her that much, apparently. Thank goodness for small miracles.

"What's their status?" she asks, straightening, Commander Shepard taking over.

"The distress signal originated from an Ardat-Yakshi monastery where almost all the residents have been turned into Reaper creatures." Shepard facepalms, groaning. Of course it did. No wonder the Asari were so twitchy. "They met Samara shortly after their arrival, who happens to have two daughters among the residents." She arches an eyebrow and drops her hand. The galaxy is a small place. It puts her mind at ease to know she's there, the odds of success are getting better. "There's a bomb in the monastery and they're currently heading there to activate it. The Reaper units offer a heavy resistance but according to their latest status report, they're unharmed and pushing forward at a steady pace."

So they're doing fine, and Samara is with them. Regardless, she can't help but worry. A full monastery of Reaper-ified Ardat-Yakshi? Memories of Morinth suddenly flash before her eyes and make her shiver. Those are already dangerous as they are, but turned into rabid creatures whose sole purpose is to sow death and destruction? Shit. What did she throw them into? Nothing a good bomb can't fix, but that is if they can set it off properly.

"Thanks, EDI."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

She looks down at her splint with a scowl. She hates feeling useless. The itch to gear up and join them is grating on her nerves. She really needs to keep herself busy.

She looks around, craning her neck, and spots her crutches, still on the coffee table along with yesterday night's mess. Well, time for some more hopping.

She keeps up to date with the ground team's regular updates while eating breakfast, skimming through the last reports on the Crucible, the Krogan help on Palaven and the hopeless situation on Earth, and desperately wanting to throw those damn crutches across every room she goes through. But after their last status report mentioning they found the bomb and were about to activate it, she starts pacing restlessly in the CIC. After some very long minutes, she finds herself entering the cockpit, anxiously waiting for Garrus's green light for extraction.

"Y'know, Commander, I never felt that bad about being the only cripple aboard. I appreciate the gesture but you didn't have to, really," Joker quips with a smirk.

She hits the back of his seat playfully with a crutch.

"Smartass." She can't suppress a smile. "So did that bomb explode?"

"The scanners indicated a significant heat peak at the coordinates of the monastery eleven minutes ago, Shepard," EDI informs her.

She frowns.

"Then what the hell are they-"

"...ormandy? ...round team ...ou copy?" Garrus voice is barely audible through the static.

A wave of relief and pride suddenly makes her light-headed.

"EDI can you improve that?" she asks in a hurry. "Patch me through."

"Right away."

"Garrus, Shepard here. What's your status?"

"Oh… huh… glad to hear you're awake. We, huh, had a bit of a situation here so sorry for the late report. Everyone is safe and ready for extraction."

"Great job. We're sending Cortez your way. Shepard out."

The comm dies and she huffs a relieved sigh.

"Lieutenant Cortez has been notified and is preparing for takeoff."

"Thanks, EDI," she says with a nod.

"Urgh, finally," Joker adds, easing back into his seat. "I couldn't take any more scowling Turians today. Those are pretty scary, y'know?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, frowning.

"Ah, right, well, when you we busy playing Sleeping Beauty, we had to deal with a grumpy Garrus. Not exactly my idea of fun this early in the morning. Seriously, I don't know what you told him about the mission, but he looked like something ate his favorite rifle and spit it back out," he deadpans, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She snorts.

"Well, not surprising. The Asari sent us to this deathtrap deliberately hiding crucial information from us. I'd have been pissed too, remember Victus and the bomb?" She archs an eyebrow. "Besides, with what they found there, you can't really blame him, can you?"

"Yeah, I gotta admit that was not exactly your most graceful display of amiability," he chuckles. She lightly hits the back of his seat again. "Fair enough." He raises his hands in surrender. "I'm not the one dealing with all this political bullcrap and I'm happy to keep it that way."

"Savor it while it lasts, you never know what the future holds. I'll be in the war room starting the report, Send Garrus my way whenever he's ready?" She turns and starts hobbling her way back to the CIC.

"Aye, aye!"

Forty minutes later, Garrus is silently scrubbing his weapons and helmet in the shuttle bay. The rest of his armor will have to wait since Shepard is waiting for him for a dreaded but necessary debrief. His hands are almost shaking as he places his gear in his locker. He closes the door, and presses his forehead on it, sighing.

Her voice had been carefully neutral on the comm, and he has no idea what to make of it. Part of him knows she's nothing if not professional on duty, and it was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, hearing her clipped and somewhat distant tone had been like a slap in the face. What if she only speaks to him that way from now on? He can feel his blood chill at the thought. Well, time to find out anyway, to put an end, unexpectedly good or devastatingly bad, to the gnawing trepidation that has tormented him all day.

He groans softly against the locker door. If only it was the only thing tormenting him. Memories of last night keep replaying in his head like a corrupted holo. The strange feel of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the heat and pleasure that took him by surprise... just thinking that he may never experience that again makes his body ache in withdrawal. Who could have guessed he would ever feel that for a Human? The more he tried to keep his urges hidden, the more he knew he was fighting a losing battle. How was he supposed to deal with that if she didn't want to have anything to do with him outside of work now?

"Are you okay?" Liara's concerned voice suddenly pulls him out of his thoughts and he straightens from the locker.

She opens her locker and silently stows her own gear, glancing at him and patiently waiting for his reply.

"Yeah..." He glances away. "I… huh… gotta go, fill the report with Shepard." He starts walking away, a slight slump in his shoulder.

"Garrus!"

He stops and looks at her over his shoulder.

"If you ever feel the need to talk to someone, my door is always open," she offers with an understanding smile.

He just looks at her dumbly for a few seconds, as something occurs to him, and he wonders why he hadn't considered it sooner. If anyone on this ship knows more than they let on, it's the Shadow Broker herself. How much has she figured out already? The thought is off-putting, and in case she's not fully aware of how deep the mess he's in is, he'd rather play it safe for now. He knows her concern is genuine though, and he's grateful for that.

"Thanks, Liara. I'll keep that in mind." He nods and resumes walking.

The moment he enters the war room is when his hand really start shaking. She's sat on the counter next to the war terminal and her crutches, and he can see the side of a datapad in her hand. He carefully approaches her, unsure of how to make his presence known. This was painfully awkward.

"Shepard?" He settles for neutrality, clasping his unsteady hands behind his back.

She abruptly turns to him, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Ah, Garrus." Her eyes shoot back to the datapad. "I was almost done writing the basics." She presses a few buttons and looks back at him. "Just need the details from your side now."

Her smile is small but genuine. He resists the urge to widen his eyes and flare his mandibles in surprise. This is not what he had anticipated. Granted, he always tended to prepare for the worst, but still. This is just too normal. He barely pays attention as she skims through what she has written so far. Instead, his brain is overheating with the effort of multitasking between gathering up the details of a mission that already feels like cycles ago, and trying to analyze the possible causes of her current behavior.

It shouldn't be hard for her to figure out he should not have "woken up" on his own, right? Or are hypnotized people supposed to wake up at some point without being prompted? Damn, he should have read that memoir. What should he do? Tell her that he thinks he fell asleep on her? Right after so long on leave, would she even buy his lack of suspicion? No way she would, she's too smart for that. Then again, this whole mess is proof that she may be severely lacking judgment when it comes to personal issues. However, this is too obvious to be ignored, even if she does. Back to square one, then. Why the hell is she so relaxed after that? It just doesn't make any sense.

She ask questions he barely registers, and he hears himself answer on autopilot while his brain runs in circles. It would be disturbing in any other situation, but he doesn't care. He's too busy trying to process a high complexity algorithm his hardware can't compute, in an extra-corporeal subprocess that's eating up all his resources. He doesn't even realize they're done with the report until she asks an unrelated question that suddenly brings his brain-frying to a screeching halt.

"Huh?" he says intelligently, turning towards her.

She raises an eyebrow at him, visibly not having expected him to zone out.

"I said you did a great job and I'm considering retiring and letting you kick the Reapers' asses." She draws an arch with her open palm, staring ahead. "Garrus Vakarian, savior of the galaxy. How does that sound?" She looks back at him with a smirk.

The mischief in her eyes only throws him off further, and he has to force his mouth shut for a second not to splutter while he focuses back to the real world. Then he closes his eyes, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't. You'd come back to watch my six anyway, you'd miss me too much." He glances at her with a weak smirk. How he just pulled that one off, he has no idea. He only hopes there's more where that came from.

He's so focused on his mission to avoid giving away... whatever is left to give away that he doesn't notice her subtle wince.

"Heh. You'd beg me for help before you go shooting bitchy rulers and officials." She snickers, hopping down from her perch.

He snorts spontaneously, surprised by how easily she made them fall back into their usual banter, slowly draining the tension off his back.

"Damn. Am I really that predictable?" He puts a hand on his chest and looks at her, feigning offense.

"Don't worry, big guy. You're still a bad Turian," she assures with a mock tender smile, as if she were reassuring a child. "Some things just never change." She chuckles and gently slaps his upper arm. "C'mon, let's go get you something to eat, you must be starving."

She gathers her crutches and starts hobbling towards the exit.

"Can't argue with that." He shakes his head with a tired smile, and follows her.

He's momentarily distracted from his slowly fading anxiety as his eyes wander on her back and hips when she hops up the small flight of stairs, and her voice almost startles him when she waits for him to join her.

"By the way, kudos for stopping Samara. Justicars and their Code, I swear... Sure it's a good thing such a power is under strict control, but killing yourself in the middle of a war that needs you for the sake of following protocol?" She shakes her head, gathering the crutches in one hand to open the door to the conference room.

"Yeah. But at least she was flexible enough to accept a compromise. She's going to be a formidable asset in this war." He follows her in the conference room.

"Without a doubt."

She stops, and he takes a couple more steps for him to realize she's not beside him anymore. He turns to her and sees her frowning at the floor.

"Garrus," she starts, lifting her head to look at him. "Look, about yesterday night..."

All the tension that had been gradually fading immediately returns to his muscles tenfold in the span of a millisecond, making him dizzy. Not trusting his voice to function properly, he simply nods. Here it comes.

"I..." She looks away. "I barely remember any of it."

What?

"I kinda took meds that already don't necessarily mix very well with alcohol on a good day, and with how exhaus-"

"You did what?" he almost yelled, grabbing her shoulder. He didn't even realized he took the large step separating them.

She winces, still not looking at him.

"Yeah, I know. Bad idea." She rolls her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me? Spirits, Shepard, I... with how much I put in your glass..." He releases her shoulder, and groans, a hand on his face and tilting his head backwards.

He couldn't believe it. Not only he drove himself crazy over something she could very well have no recollection of, but she had let him unknowingly put her health in jeopardy. He knew her sense of self-preservation is not exactly high out of the field but that was ridiculous. He can't decide if he should be pissed or relieved.

"Whoa don't flip out, big guy," she says, taking her crutches in one hand and raising the other in a placating gesture, as he starts to pace, holding his head. "Not the first time it happened, won't be the last. I just usually don't have an audience." She waves her hand dismissively.

"And this is supposed to make it look better?" He turns to her, arms open before letting them fall heavily on his sides.

"No... Look..." She pinches the bridge of her nose, before lifting her hand as if it would make her more convincing while not meeting his eyes. "I was extra exhausted so I guess this is why it was that bad. I never had that much of a lapse."

"Shepard, please don't do that anymore." He puts a hand back on her shoulder, more gently this time. "You need meds? Nothing wrong with that. You need a drink sometimes? So do I. But for the love of all the Spirits of Palaven, no more hazardous mixing."

She looks at his worried face for a second and bursts out laughing. Taken aback, he releases her shoulder and takes a step back.

"Yes, mom," she says, still snickering. "Seriously Garrus, if people knew the big bad Archangel is an overprotective cherub on the inside..."

"An overprotective what?" He frowns. How can she be so blithesome while putting her health at risk?

"Never mind." She waves her hand, still grinning. "I'll be careful, I promise. Still, I'm amazed you didn't notice I was high as a kite."

Garrus freezes again. Here comes the massive plot hole he didn't manage to fill earlier. What should he do? Between the lack of time and his sudden panic, he blurts out the only thing he came up with.

"I..." He scratches the side of his neck. "I think I, huh, dozed off at some point. Sorry... Next thing I knew, you were asleep... on me." He looks away, unable to look at her while lying so blatantly.

"Oh... sorry about that."

He chances a glance at her. She's looking away, and her visible cheek has taken a reddish hue. Blushing. Isn't that a sign of embarrassment? He can't help the guilty satisfaction at seeing her flushed because of him. Knowing he has such an effect on her does wonders to his self-confidence. He almost misses the fact that she seems to buy his lie. It doesn't make him feel any better, but at least, now they can move on, right?

Right?

"Don't worry, I, huh, didn't mind." He smirks weakly. "I'm just glad you could hibernate it off."

She snorts.

"Yeah, you can say that again." She takes her crutches back in both hands, turning towards the bridge. "C'mon, let's hit the mess."

She starts walking with him by her side, but stops again before reaching the door. He looks at her inquisitively above his shoulder, and sees her raising an eyebrow at the bulkhead near the door. When he looks in the same direction, he realizes she's just spotted the dent he left there with his fist the other day. He turns back to her, and she's looking at him with her eyebrows raised in a silent question. He just shrugs in response and resumes walking.

They finally exit the conference room, both with the heavy, uneasy impression of having dodged a massive bullet, but still feeling the stinging burn where it grazed their skin.