A/N: Thank you to all of you who have favorited and are following the story. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.
Special thanks to barbex, M-Angel 05, Cassandra Y, The Red Celt, Spyke1985, Suilven, Guest, InaYasha, ImmortalFlower and Detective-Mason for leaving a review on the previous chapter; you all made me very happy. :)
Thank you to The Red Celt for beta reading.
BioWare owns all.
Finding a hotel room turned out to be a much more challenging task than they had expected. The first place they went to, in the vicinity of the main trading floor, had no vacancies whatsoever. The second one, a little farther away, was totally full as well, and the third one attempted to charge them an exorbitant amount of credits for a dirty little alcove barely bigger than a supply closet. They didn't bother traveling to any more establishments after that.
Instead, Shepard downloaded a list of Illium lodgings from the extranet and tried to make a reservation through a few vid calls. But, as it turned out, the city happened to be hosting the biggest Galaxy Trek convention of the whole year at the moment and nothing Shepard could say or do, including claiming Spectre authority over their businesses, could produce even one free room for them.
"Weren't you renting a place somewhere?" she turned to Thane after her fifth unsuccessful attempt. "Do you still have it?"
"I stayed at an inn not far from the Dantius Towers. However, I checked out today—I did not anticipate going back there after my mission," he answered, his calm and measured voice a sharp contrast to Shepard's aggravated grunts and groans. "Additionally, it was a small, one-bedroom setup— would not have been satisfactory for a group."
"Dammit." She rubbed her forehead, trying to come up with a plan of action, then she remembered Liara—she had an office here now, dealing with information, no less. Who better to find out if there was a place somewhere out there that wasn't full of crazy convention people and had some rooms available to house all of them for the night? She pulled up Liara's contact info on her omni-tool and put in a call to her. The asari answered almost immediately. Judging from the familiar background behind her, she was still at work.
"Shepard," she greeted her old friend with a small smile. "Can I help you with something?"
"I hope so. We're stuck on Illium—the space port is under quarantine and we can't board the ship. We need a place to stay, and I wondered if you could help with that. Every single hotel we've tried is full—"
"Oh, yes, the Convention," Liara interjected with a knowing nod. "Most of the rooms usually sell out well in advance for the event. Let me see what I can do, and I'll get back to you later."
"Thanks, Liara." Shepard felt a little better now. Her old squad mate had never let her down and she was confident that she was going to come up with something.
"Any time, Shepard."
The team decided to have some dinner while they waited. The multi-species restaurant they had visited earlier for lunch was not too far, so they headed there again.
The dining room was quiet and pleasant during the day, but this time it was full of people. Their talking and laughing merged into a thrumming buzz, the almost monotonous level of noise accentuated by the clanks of the plates and glasses the servers carried on their heavy trays as they hurried between the tables to serve as many customers in as little time as they were able to.
It took a while, but the team finally managed to find an empty booth. They settled down on the seats, which were still warm from the previous occupants, their strange little group absorbed into the crowd without as much as a raised eyebrow or a curious glare. Most of the patrons of the restaurant, representing almost all the usual races one could see on the Citadel or in a metropolis like Illium, seemed to have come for the convention. Some of them were even dressed in costumes representing different characters from the popular franchise. Shepard watched them with a mixture of irritation and amusement—it was almost surreal that, while there was a real danger of annihilation out there, all these people were worried about were plot points and imaginary battles and debates about whether Major En'dan was finally going to make a move on Lieutenant Hynal.
They ordered their meals and ate quietly, hungry and tired and not really in the mood to shout over the noise to have a conversation. When Shepard's omni-tool pinged, indicating an incoming message from Liara, she got up from the table and walked outside to take the call.
"I hope you have some good news for me," the commander said when Liara's face flashed up on the holo screen.
"I have checked all the hotels, but they are all sold out. However, I did find a place that had a cancellation—"
"Great!"
"But," the asari held up her hand to stop any premature celebration, "it's a two-bedroom suite."
"So... there are only two beds?" Shepard's eyebrows pulled into a frown. This wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, but maybe they could make it work—sleep in shifts, if nothing else. Not the best solution, but at this point she didn't care anymore. She was dog tired and desperately wanted to finally get horizontal somewhere, and she was certain that her team felt the same way.
Liara looked away from the screen, most likely to check her computer as she answered, "There are two bedrooms, each with a double bed, plus a kitchen-living room combo and one bathroom. Sounds like a nice place, really—"
"Okay." Shepard sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair. "We'll figure out something about the sleeping arrangements. Did you make a reservation for us?"
"Yes. I didn't want somebody else to snatch it up before I could talk to you. I'm sorry I couldn't find anything else," Liara added, turning those big, innocent eyes on her old commander. "You could stay at my place, if you want, but I only have one bedroom. There's also a couch, but it could only accommodate one person, so... I can't really take in the whole team..."
"That's okay, Liara." Shepard shook her head. "I don't want to split us up. With the luck we've been having here, there would probably be an earthquake during the night and we'd get separated by some huge chasm or something."
"All right." The asari sounded disappointed, but she went on, "I'm sending you the coordinates. Just take a cab there and check in under your name. The suite is ready for you."
"Thanks. I owe you one."
"I might collect on that one day. Good-bye, Shepard." Liara shot her a sad smile, then her face dissolved into jagged lines of static as she terminated the call.
Shepard radioed EDI to let her know about the situation. She secretly hoped that the AI was going to have some good news about the lockdown but, much to her disappointment, the port was still under quarantine . They piled into a cab, flew to the hotel and checked in.
The suite was on the top floor, its wall-to-wall windows displaying a gorgeous view of the city. It really was a nice place, just like Liara had said. The living room connected to a small kitchen and eating area as well as a bathroom, with two bedrooms on either side, each furnished with a wide bed, side tables and lamps—everything they needed for the night, except for private accommodations for all of them.
Shepard marched around, surveying the available space, then she stopped in the middle of the living room and folded her arms in front of her chest with a nervous frown. "Okay. We have to decide who's going to bunk with whom."
During her years of military service she had gotten used to having to share living and sleeping quarters with others, but this was different. This meant having to actually share a bed with one of her squad mates and, to tell the truth, she wasn't really looking forward to that. Well, she would have been fine—hell, more than fine—with having Garrus as a bunkmate, but she couldn't very well just come out and say, 'All right, I'm taking Garrus. You two go and sleep in that other room.'
Or... could she? After all, she was their freaking commander and it was up to her to make these kinds of decisions. And what if she chose her old friend to share a room with? And... make Mordin spend the whole night next to an assassin they'd just met... Dammit. She wasn't really keen on that idea either.
She stood there, chewing her lower lip as she pondered the pros and cons of each scenario, trying to come to some kind of resolution, but in the end she didn't have to. Mordin lifted a hand to cup his chin and declared in his usual no-nonsense manner, "Salarians only need one hour of sleep per night. Can do that on couch. Thane is new to group. Suggest Thane take one bedroom; Shepard and Vakarian take the other."
"You... have a point there," the commander replied, reaching behind her neck to rub it timidly. She did her best not to look at Garrus, because if she did, she knew her face would burst into flames and her lips would curve into an uncontrollable grin. It was all she could do to resist the temptation to throw her arms around Mordin and squeeze him tight and, if the relieved sighs she thought she'd heard coming from Thane's and Garrus's direction were any indication, they were as happy as she was with the salarian's suggestion.
"Which room do you prefer?" Thane asked, folding his hands behind his back and focusing his big, black eyes on Shepard. He couldn't have been more pleased with how things had turned out. He wasn't used to working in groups, let alone sleeping with a stranger in the same bed, and he was looking forward to the privacy his own bedroom would provide. He planned to meditate about the day's events then turn in for the night.
"Doesn't matter. I guess you can take that one." Shepard shrugged and tipped her head towards the room on the left.
"As you wish," he said with a little bow. "Good night," he added, then he turned around and retreated to his private little sanctuary.
"I'm going to take a shower," the commander declared as she headed to the bathroom. "Does anybody need the facilities first?"
There were no takers, so she closed the door behind her, stripped down and started the hot water.
She felt much better afterwards; the grime and sweat of the whole day had been washed away, her skin and hair were reasonably clean, and when she strolled into the living room in her undersuit, carrying the pieces of her armor in her arms, she couldn't hold back a happy little smile to see Mordin and Garrus, two of her favorite people in the world, sitting on the couch together.
Their attention was focused on the vid screen at the other end of the room. As she got closer, she realized what they were up to: they were watching the news about the drug raid in the docking port.
"Detective Anaya has assured us that her department has confiscated all the illegal shipments that Pitne For and his cohorts had smuggled into the various docking ports all over Illium," the newscaster said. "A few crates were damaged during the raids, and some of the space ports are under quarantine until the toxic gases can be cleared out. According to the Health Hazard Response Team, service to these areas will be restored by the morning."
"I should have only sent that data to Anaya once we were on the Normandy," Shepard groaned. "Well, anyway, I think I'm gonna head to be—"
"Coming up, Blasto—The Original Movie," a sultry voice announced, and Shepard stopped as she was, midstride, as she stared at the screen with an incredulous look on her face.
"My god, Blasto One," she said with a chuckle. "I was a kid when I first saw it, and it's still one of my favorites. It made me want to be a Spectre so bad."
"Same here." Garrus flared his mandibles at her with an excited grin; his eyes were twinkling with the joy of a little boy who had just been let loose in a candy store.
"Is that right?" She smiled back at him, her chest filling with warmth—it was good to see him so cheerful about something. "How about you, Mordin?" she asked, turning to the salarian.
"Never seen it."
Shepard and Garrus stared at him, their mouths hanging open in shock. They found it hard to believe that there was anybody in the galaxy who wasn't familiar with Blasto and all of his adventures.
"Huh? But it's a classic," Garrus finally said, shaking his head.
"Never paid attention to such matters; been too busy studying and working on more important things," Mordin replied with a scoff. He could never understand the allure of these fictitious stories. A good theatrical performance, preferably with music, was more in line with his style of relaxing after a hard day of compiling research data and running tests—and he hardly ever had time even for that little indulgence.
"All right. We're not leaving this hotel until you have been educated about the awesomeness that is Blasto," Shepard declared. "I'll be right back."
She hurried to the bedroom, put her armor in the corner, then went back to the living room and plopped down on the couch, right between her squad mates. "Let the show commence."
Blasto was as entertaining as ever—until Mordin began a running commentary about the scientific aspects and other failings of the film.
"Impossible," he remarked in a stern voice when a cruiser exploded and burst into flames during an exciting space battle.
"What is?" Shepard casually asked without tearing her eyes away from the screen.
"No oxygen in space. Ship would not burn. Very short initial ignition possible from internal oxygen; however, fire would stop quickly. No oxygen—no flames."
"Oh-kay." Shepard shrugged her shoulders. She hoped that this was going to be the extent of his observations, but Mordin was not done yet.
"Also, no sound in space."
"Fine. Can we just watch the movie now?"
"Yes."
A few minutes later, however, when a group of thugs surrounded the intrepid Spectre, each of them waiting for their turn to attack him, Mordin just had to say something again.
"Inefficient. No reason to attack one by one. Should take advantage of overwhelming number."
"Then the fight would be over too soon," Garrus smirked. "It's more fun this way."
"Criminals' objective should be to kill him quickly, not wait to be defeated."
"It's just a movie, Mordin," Shepard sighed. "It doesn't have to be perfectly logical. Just... be quiet and watch."
He was silent for a while, but it didn't take long before he found something else to complain about.
"Dead enemy's weapon better than detective's. Shouldn't have left it on floor."
"Mordin!" That was it; she was glaring at him now, ready to tape his mouth shut if she had to. "No more talking! That's an order."
He was going to say something else, but one look at the commander's face changed his mind. He nodded his head and didn't say a word after that.
It was nice not to have every little detail picked over and criticized, but now that she could finally relax and watch the movie in peace, Shepard soon found that she could barely keep her eyes open. Her head tipped down then jerked up a couple of times until it found its way onto Mordin's shoulder.
The salarian glanced down at her in mild surprise. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even; she looked so peaceful that he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should just let her sleep, but eventually decided that he had no intentions of sitting there the whole night, serving as a pillow for his commanding officer.
"Ahem," he coughed, his body shaking with the forceful movement of the air entering and exiting his lungs. It certainly did the trick: Shepard's head dislodged from his shoulder, she sat up straight, and her eyes snapped open.
"What?" she asked, looking back and forth between her two couch-mates.
"You were snoring," Garrus teased her, his mandibles flaring wide in an amused grin.
"No, I wasn't!"
"How would you know? You were unconscious."
"I. Do. Not. Snore." Shepard glared at Garrus, then she turned to Mordin for support. "Tell him."
"Did not hear loud breathing," the salarian agreed, then he tilted his head and remarked in his most serious doctor-tone, "If tired, perhaps should go to bed."
"I wasn't sleeping. I was just... resting my eyes."
"Riiight." Garrus was still smirking, which made her really, really want to punch him in the arm, but she wasn't wearing her gloves and he was still in his full armor—violent contact with the hard metal wouldn't have ended very well for her knuckles. Instead, she turned her attention back to the screen with a scowl and pretended to ignore him.
She forced her eyes to stay open, but they only obeyed her for a few minutes. After a while they insisted on closing again, and this time her head decided to find a resting place on Garrus's upper arm. He sat there, unable to move or breathe as she cuddled up to him, and he wondered if they could stay like this, right on this couch, the whole night. He finally came to the conclusion that no matter how much he liked having her press her body into him like that, she needed to sleep on a real bed, so he jiggled his arm carefully in an effort to wake her up.
"Shepard." No answer. "Shepard, you should go to bed."
"Hmm," she murmured, but she didn't move. Apparently she was either too tired or too far gone to actually open her eyes, get up and walk into the bedroom on her own two feet.
"Mordin," Garrus whispered to the salarian, "help me get her into bed."
Mordin nodded and stood up, and he watched as Garrus put his arms around the sleeping commander. He picked her up and carried her to the empty room, her head on his shoulder and her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Mordin opened the door, then hurried to the bed and pulled back the covers so that Garrus could deposit her on the mattress. Once she curled up on her side, mumbling something about how damned tired she was, he covered her with a blanket, then tipped his head at the turian and retreated to the living room.
Garrus peeled off his armor as quietly as he could. He piled all the pieces in a corner and safely out of the way, then he slid under the sheets, trying not to jostle the bed too much. Shepard was motionless, facing away from him, and as he lay there, listening to the air softly going in and out of her lungs, he couldn't help but wish that she was still pressed into his side, just like she'd been on the couch, and he could hold her tight through the night.
He didn't think that he'd be able to sleep like this, with her warm body less than an arm's length away, but his eyelids disagreed. They became heavier and heavier, and in a matter of minutes he dozed off. It had been a long, hard day and even a turian's stamina couldn't hold out forever. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, and didn't even feel it when Shepard rolled over, snuggled up to him as close as she could, and put her arm around his waist.
