Shepard let her eyes focus on the blinding brilliance of the med-bay lights, and schooled her face into an outward expression of calm that in no way mirrored what she was feeling.
Chakwas, ever the model of professionalism, appeared oblivious to the aura of tension between her commander and her silent turian patient.
Garrus hadn't said much since the revelations of the previous day. He alternated between introspective depression, and exhausting nervous anxiety; spending most of his time working on the Normandy's weapons systems as an excuse for not dealing with the situation. Shepard had eventually suggested that Garrus get Dr. Chakwas to clear him for combat, in the hopes that it might at least provide a distraction for the both of them.
Since Shepard had paced anxiously into the medical facility, Garrus hadn't so much as looked in her direction. His anxiety was patently obvious in the rigid stiffness of his shoulders, and in the way he was clenching the edge of the exam table hard enough that his talons were leaving divots in the polished metal. That edge of withdrawn shame had come back into Garrus' eyes ever since he'd found out about his father, and it was that that ate at Shepard more than his sullen distance. Moodiness she could handle, but she loathed that every time Garrus moved forward, he would get knocked straight back to...this.
Chakwas was easing a new pressure dressing into place over the exposed muscle and cybernetics in Garrus' jaw, when the diagnostic unit gave a subdued beep and generated what, to Shepard's eyes, a baffling array of numbers and graphs. The medical gibberish clearly made perfect sense to the ship's physician, and she scanned through it swiftly, nodding periodically and eventually dismissing the display again with a flick of her omni-tool.
Shepard levered herself off the counter, wandering over to Garrus with an effected casual stride. Garrus didn't say anything as she settled her hip against the table, but she did earn herself a slight nod, and the flick of a lightly trembling mandible. His nervousness made Shepard want to comfort him, hold him until he relaxed into her touch, but she also knew that wasn't what he needed. Instead, Shepard settled for jostling her shoulder against his in a soldiers show of solidarity.
"Well," Chakwas started, a smile gracing her careworn face. "I see no reason why Garrus can't return to active duty. I'll sign any paperwork you need, Commander."
Shepard huffed out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Half of her was relieved, the mission to stop the collectors, to find the missing colonists, would be infinitely easier with Garrus at her back. At the same time, it made a slow ball of dread uncoil in her guts, as it brought the Omega situation into sharp relief. There would be no escaping or postponing that confrontation now. In a way it was preferable this way, if Garrus' injuries had left him unable to return to active duty as part of her crew, Shepard knew damn well he would have thrown himself against the Omega situation until it broke him.
"Thank.." Garrus began, pausing to clear the harsh rasp from his throat. "Thank you, doctor."
"The best way you could possibly thank me is to stay out of my med-bay." Chakwas smiled to take any possible sting from her words, laughing aloud at Garrus' affronted stare. " I know asking you, either of you," she gave Shepard a pointed glance, "to be careful is a waste of good oxygen~but please try not to undo all my hard work too soon."
Shepard envied the way Chakwas could diffuse the tension radiating off Garrus with her gentle, trademark humor. Somehow, with a few words, she could ease the cruel memories that Garrus would otherwise associate with her treatments.
Looking sideways at the turian's sharp profile, Shepard could scarcely see that broken, terrified, drug addled wreck that Garrus had been only months before. He wore his light armor with the casual ease of a career soldier, and he moved with the predatory grace and power that Shepard had always admired. Only his eyes betrayed him. The innocence had been snuffed out, the spark and light that Shepard remembered from his time on the SR1 had guttered out like a candle.
As the med-bay doors hissed shut behind them, Garrus turned wordlessly away, heading blindly for the comfort and solitude of the main battery, only stopping when Shepard deliberately interposed herself into his path.
"Come with me a minute." Shepard looped her arm through Garrus', and forced an about-face. The maneuver managed to surprise Garrus enough that they were halfway to the elevator before he thought to dig his feet in and halt them both.
"Shepard..." Garrus' face was unreadable, with mandibles pressed flat and eyes downcast. "Can you let go, I need to..."
"Sequester yourself in the main battery, and stew?" Shepard dared him to deny it. "I have a better idea."
"You can't distract me from this, Shepard." Garrus shook his head firmly, one hand scratching absently at some of the scabs his facial bandage didn't cover. "I'll get my gear, try to find some of my old contacts on Omega, and...extract some information."
The coldness of Garrus' voice left Shepard with little doubt as to how this information would be 'extracted', and she sighed. "Liara has agents working on this, at least give her the 24 hours she requested before resorting to thumbscrews." Letting Garrus blink in confusion over the unknown term, Shepard rested a hand on the cool smoothness of the armor that shielded his chest. "I told you I was part of this, and that I would support you-but we need to be smart about this. Liara is working to set up a meeting with your...with the vigilante. That gives us more of a chance than rattling around on Omega, attracting attention, and probably trouble, to ourselves."
Shepard waited silently, hoping that Garrus' pragmatism would win out over his infatuation with Omega. After a long moment, Garrus huffed out a sigh and nodded slowly. "Fair enough, it may be my...our, best shot. But if we don't hear anything soon..."
"Then we start making noise," Shepard smirked, "from Afterlife to the eezo mines if we must."
Garrus gave an appreciative growl. "Making friends with Aria, are you?"
"Not exactly!" Shepard gave Garrus' arm a tug, and this time he let himself be guided past some curious crewmen and into the elevator.
The elevator doors opened quietly, displaying a lightless room with pitch black hulks looming in the far corner.
"What?" Garrus rumbled, and Shepard could hear an edge of alarm in his voice as he waited for his visor to alter it's display for night vision. "This is very exciting Shepard, I'm so glad I came."
"Oh, shut it." Shepard edged along the wall until her questing hand brushed the touch panel and lights dispelled the gloom. The shapes in the dark coalesced into the boxy mass of the kodiak shuttle, hunched on its launch skids, and a stack of secured cargo boxes against one wall. Shepard spun in a circle with arms outstretched, "Taa-daa."
"Very...impressive." Garrus looked blandly amused, and Shepard got the distinct impression he was humoring her. "If only I'd never seen a shuttle bay before."
"Har har." Shepard couln't stop her grin, if Garrus could manage to be glib and sarcastic, then things were definitely looking up. "If only wit won battles." Tugging at the hem of her Cerberus-emblazoned shirt, Shepard hauled it off over her head and tossed it into a corner.
"It's definitely getting more interesting." Garrus aimed a lopsided, splay-mandibled grin at Shepard, "though really, Shepard...the shuttle bay?"
"Mind out of the gutter, Vakarain."Shepard tugged her boots off, hoping the action did something to hide the surprised flush his interest brought out on her skin. In a way, she had wondered if Garrus' attraction to her was based primarily on emotional dependance rather than any form of physical desire; his interest was both gratifying and instantly arousing. "We haven't sparred in ages, figured it was abut time to remind you why I always won."
"We seem to remember things very differently." The banter was route, but Shepard was glad of it, glad for the familiarity it provided. She was equally glad for the small spark of interest In Garrus' pale eyes; a physical exercise like sparring could go a long way to alleviate the tension and fear that the turian carried like a constant shroud.
Shepard shimmied her pants down over her hips, leaving her in thin underweave shorts and a tank top, the chill air of the shuttle bay raised goose flesh on her exposed skin. Garrus gave a slightly resigned sigh and followed suite, unsnapping the various toggles and buckles that kept his armor snug. He wasn't going to appreciate the cold, but Shepard figured that was preferable to her breaking her knuckles against the reinforced ceramic and steel.
Eventually down to his underarmor, Garrus hesitated, then shrugged and unzipped it to the waist. Shrugging out of the top half of the matte-black weave, Garrus tied the slack just above his hips and rubbed self consciously at the scars seaming his shoulder. It wasn't the scars that made Shepard flush with anger, although they were extensive, a veritable map of shiny scar tissue and damaged plating. It was the blood-pack brand that made Shepard grit her teeth, an ugly, blue-black memento of the atrocities Garrus would never be truly free of.
Forcing herself to smile, Shepard bounced a little on the balls of her feet. "You ready?"
Instead of replying Garrus began the pacing circling that seemed to be the basis for most turian hand-to-hand forms. It had always reminded Shepard of the earth based martial art of baguazhang that relied heavily on 'walking the circle'; it made Shepard have a lot of empathy for prey animals, surely this was pretty much how a mouse felt while being stalked by a hunting cat.
Pivoting on her back foot, Shepart kept Garrus in sight. Despite the turian's superior height and reach, his predictability had always put him at a disadvantage against Shepard's dirty tactics and adaptability during their matches on the SR1. Wrex had always laughed with gruff amusement every time Shepard had used what Garrus considered a highly dishonorable tactic to leave her protege face down on the deck. Confident that this exercise wouldn't prove too different, Shepard was shocked when Garrus swung around, aiming a lightning fast, open handed feint at her face. Jerking back, Shepard tried to keep her opponent in view, but Garrus was already behind her. A sharp toed foot dug into the tendons behind Shepard's knee, and Garrus used his weight on the joint to force her down. An astounded Shepard succumbed to gravity, a fall made faster by the hammer blow of an elbow between her shoulder blades.
"Ok, where did you learn that?" Shepard wheezed as she managed to turn her forward momentum into a shoulder roll. Apparently the time on Omega had taught Garrus some surprisingly underhanded tactics.
"I learned a lot on that station...that was just a sample." Garrus backed off enough to allow Shepard to bounce back to her feet, before leading back n with a fluid overhand strike.
The spar continued in much the same vein until Shepard was panting and slick with sweat. The powerful potential Garrus had always displayed had matured into a powerful, tactical technique, one that left him and Shepard on gratifyingly equal ground.
After a final tangle that left them both sprawled and gasping, Shepard waved a hand in surrender. "Alright, I give, I'm done."
"Giving up already?" Garrus' cocky rejoinder was ruined by the fact that he was breathing hard, mandibles sagging alongside a relaxed jaw as he sucked in gulps of oxygen. He rubbed absently at his shoulder, and Shepard sat up with a curse when she saw a smear of navy blood on his fingers.
"Dammit!" Shepard traced her fingers over a series of small micro tears in the delicate scar tissue and new skin. She knew better than anyone how inflexible scars could be, new skin lacked elasticity, and was prone to tear rather than stretch.
"It's fine, Shepard!" Garrus shrugged off her attempts to examine the damage. "Nothing a bit of medi-gel wont heal. This happens, stop fussing!"
"I hope I didn't do this." Shepard reluctantly allowed herself to be swatted away from her examination, settling instead for kneading the knots and tensions from Garrus' neck and shoulders.
"Even if you did, you're forgiven if you keep doing that." Garrus arched into her with a low thrum of relief and pleasure. "Primate hands certainly have their uses."
"Primate hands?" Shepard growled in mock outrage, deliberately tweaking a nerve. "Primate hands!?"
"I meant it as a compliment!"
"Of course you did, dino-face."
They soothed each others tired, overworked muscles, until they lay facing each other, letting the cool flooring leach the rest of the workout heat from their bodies. Shepard was just considering getting up and going in search of a hot shower, when she felt a tentative hand on her hip.
Garrus was looking at her with wide eyes, half terrified of her reaction as he trailed a featherlight touch up across her ribs to the sweep of her collarbones.
"I'm not going to break, you know." Shepard tried for levity.
"I just...I want.." Garrus looked uncomfortable, mandibles flexing in agitation. "I want...you. But...I.."
"That's a lucky coincidence." Shepard couldn't help but smile, reaching out to still a flickering mandible with her palm. She had assumed that Garrus' nervousness was simply a product of his bouts of post-Omega paranoia, and the natural body-shyness that was a side effect of his captivity, but his next words kicked her in the gut like a krogan at full charge.
"Will you leave again?" Garrus' flanging voice was achingly sad and wistful.
Garrus' passive role in their odd, fledgling relationship had been enforced by Shepard's abrupt departure from the rehab facility. Her fear of damaging her turian friend's fragile psyche had inadvertently left deeper scars than she expected.
Curling forward until they were eye to eye, Shepard could only hope her reassurances would eventually penetrate Garrus' armor of insecurity and self doubt. "I'm not going anywhere."
Shepard couldn't see Garrus' eyes, but she was sure there would be that flicker of uncertainty there, that lurking fear that she hated. He his it well though, pressing his face against her throat, breath and tongue a malarial heat against her pulse.
Not above some interspecies extranet research, Shepard ran her hand down Garrus' spinal plating, using her short nails to scrape lightly along the sensitive skin where lumbar muscles smoothed into flared hips. The arched response, and low trill of approval thrilled Shepard, that Garrus could take pleasure from her touch (or any touch at all) was a marvel that sent an unexpected surge of desire through her.
They explored each other in mutual silence. Guided by the reactions their hesitant touches elicited, using each others gasps and movements to map out areas that provided the most pleasure. If Garrus was sometimes nervous, Shepard learned to back off; to lie quiet beside him until the demons of his mind loosed their hold, and he reached for her again.
Shepard felt like an awkward, fumbling teenager again. The low grind of the elevator made them both freeze, then laugh with breathless relief when it stopped one level up.
Things were starting to go from timid, to rather...serious, when the overhead comm system crackeled to life.
"Commander?" Jeff 'Joker' Moreau's voice echoed through the bay. Garrus muttered something untranslatable into the crook of Shepard's neck, and his hand stroked down her thigh in silent entreaty. "Commander, are you there?"
"Yeah." Shepard struggled to keep the frustration out of her voice, of all the timing..."What is it, Joker?"
"Liara is trying to contact you, she's on hold on your private terminal." Joker was clearly curious about the call, and Shepard suspected it was only the lurking shadow of EDI who kept him from asking outright...or simply eavesdropping.
Garrus had frozen the second Liara's name had been mentioned. The muscles beneath Shepard's hands, pliable from their exercise and play, went rigid and tense. Sadly, Shepard watched the desire and curiosity drain from his face like blood from a wound; his eyes lost their luster, going flat, hard, and distant.
"Tell her I'll be right there." Shepard let her head rest against the floor, the metal felt ice cold against the reconstruction scars on her cheek. Garrus was on his feet, tugging his armor back on with sharp, almost angry morions. Shepard was worried she would see shame on his face, but as his pale eyes flickered past her, all she could see in them was fear.
