Running Silent:
The Definition of Off Duty
…
An alternate ME3. Commander Shepard and her team are on the run from Cerberus and trying to make alliances before it's too late. In a galaxy with no reaper kill switch, how can they hope to defeat something so ancient and powerful? Their last hope is a desperate plan that may cost them everything. Shepard/Garrus, other side pairings.
…
Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belong to Bioware.
…
Shepard stepped out into Zakera Ward, pausing to look around as Garrus came up beside her. "So," she asked, "What's on the agenda today?"
"I was thinking fighting, food, a hotel room, and maybe a vid?"
Shepard grinned. "You know me so well."
He shrugged, gazing at her with indulgent eyes. "That I do. Which is why I thought you'd might want to go for the combat sim first."
"Sounds like you've got it all planned out," she replied, and flourished a hand out in front of her. "Lead on, big guy."
A short walk and a cab ride later, they found themselves staring intently at the simulator console, selecting the details of their match. A small wrinkle formed between Shepard's brows as she contemplated their options.
"I was thinking we could do one round as a team, you know, to get our bearings," Garrus suggested. "After that we can try a versus match and see who the real soldier is here." He smirked at her, mandibles flaring outward. "I'll even let you choose the setting, Commander."
Shepard crossed her arms, leveling a challenging look at the turian. "You know what this means, right? You're going down, Vakarian."
"Oh, I'm looking forward to watching you try."
The person behind them in line coughed pointedly, and they turned back to the console to finish up. Shepard selected random for both locations and enemies, shooting Garrus a look as she did. There. He can't call that unfair, now can he?
They went to the next room where they were outfitted with specialized weapons and armor for the simulator. The suits locked down with simulated injuries when they took enough damage from the provided weapons, immobilizing a limb or even the whole suit in the case of 'death'. Mock applications of medi-gel were provided, but Shepard and Garrus both turned them down.
They didn't want to make this easy. What would be the fun in that?
Stepping into the arena, Shepard found herself surrounded by a tropical paradise. Her eyes flicked to the outcropping of rocks, the sparsely scattered trees, and the cascading waterfall, becoming briefly curious whether she'd feel anything if she stepped beneath the holographic water. Beside her she saw Garrus evaluating the battlefield as well, noting the locations of cover and possible entry points for their enemies.
He caught her eye and nodded towards a snipers nest he'd noticed on the higher ground that ringed the arena. She acknowledged him and picked her own piece of cover, though she'd more than likely abandon it soon after the fighting began. As he settled in his perch, Garrus shot her a grin. She couldn't help returning it, her blood already singing with anticipation. After a few long, excruciating moments, the first enemy rounded the corner of a holographic cliff face.
They worked as a team the way they always had, forming a rhythm like the beat of music only they could hear. When a juggernaut approached from her nine, Shepard already knew that Garrus would overload in time for her crushing biotic field. If she lifted a pair of geth troops, she took the one on the right, knowing that a sniper's bullet would drop the left. She danced among the geth, laughing out loud as she punched the light out on a destroyer, the blue glow dissipating from her hand as the geth staggered back and was blown away by a single bullet.
After all the time they'd fought together, she didn't need to glance up for reassurance. She knew that if she called a target, he'd drop it, just as he knew that if he shouted a warning, she'd follow without hesitation. They were partners in destruction, a single forged blade of attack that their enemies feared and fellows envied. They complimented each other as if they were created to fight together. Sometimes Shepard wondered if they had been, or if their time working together had made them so.
When the timer ran out, Shepard panted in exertion, grinning widely at the fact that neither of them had taken a single "fatal" hit during their match. But the next match would be so much more interesting. Never before had they been on opposite sides. They'd competed, of course, but only side-by-side or for fun in the sparring ring. Not once had they gone up against each other the way they would now.
Shepard considered her tactics. If she was to win, she'd have to lure Garrus into the open for a straight-up fight—that, or find his hiding spot without him finding her first. If he caught sight of her, he could get a shot off before she even knew where to direct her attacks. He'd start the battle at an advantage, she knew, but as soon as she found his position, all bets would be off.
In the room adjacent to the arena, employees checked them over, making sure their suits and weapons were in good order before they sent them back out to fight. Shepard glanced aside at Garrus as he put on a helmet to protect against her biotic attacks. For a moment, she considered the idea of letting him win.
Despite his confident swagger and cocky comments, she knew his self-confidence was still shaken from the betrayal and death of his team on Omega. Though he'd gone a long way towards healing, she still saw those moments of doubt in his eyes, mistrusting his own judgment, skill, and particularly his talents as a leader. It amazed her sometimes that someone as smart and skilled as Garrus could think so little of himself. Perhaps a win against her would remind him just how much he had to offer. But as she watched him take a rifle from the arena staff and raise it to his eye, she shook herself out of those thoughts. He wouldn't want a false victory. He deserved better than that from her because he was better than that.
Painful as it was to admit, there was a fair chance he'd win this anyway.
"You know," he said, coming up to her with his usual swagger, "If you're nervous we can always call it off. No one would blame you for being afraid to go up against the great Archangel."
In spite of herself, Shepard grinned. She crossed her arms across her chest, imitating his tone. "Are you sure it isn't you who wants to call it off? No one would blame you for being afraid to go up against the great Commander Shepard."
Garrus laughed. "We should take a vid and sell it on the extranet. Commander Shepard versus Archangel. We'd make a killing."
Shepard jerked her thumb back towards the lobby. "They do sell vids, actually. 'Relive your victory with a commemorative vid!' It's only a hundred credits, you know."
Garrus shifted his stance, leaning closer for a moment. "We could always sell a copy to Conrad Verner." He laughed at Shepard's groan.
The light above the door to the arena flicked from red to green, displaying the five minute countdown until the match officially began. "You can go in first, find your precious sniper's perch," Shepard teased. "I'll follow in a minute."
"Don't worry," Garrus said as he passed her. "I won't watch where you hide when you come in. Wouldn't want to have any unfair advantage." The door slid open as he stepped up to it, revealing a snow-blanketed military base. "Really, Commander?" he drawled. "You know how turians hate the cold."
"Lucky for you, it's all holographic," she said dryly. "Now get your ass out there before we run out of clock."
"Yes, ma'am," He saluted, as insubordinately as possible, and retreated through the door.
Shepard waited until the timer was down to three minutes before following. Snow fell softly around her, lowering visibility enough to make her smirk about her opponent's predicament. She raised her palm, watching the clumps of snowflakes disappear as they reached her glove. Too bad it wasn't real. She would have loved to throw a few snowballs around. She dropped her hand, pushing her thoughts aside to get down to business. What had previously been rocks, trees, and waterfalls were now replaced with the battered metal and crates of an abandoned military base. The courtyard was surrounded by corridors with wide windows and open doorways. Rather than following her usual out-in-the-open methods, she'd have to move from cover to cover as she searched for a way up to the sniper's nest Garrus had inevitably found or created for himself. Predictable as he was, it was still a good strategy. He knew that stealth wasn't her strong suit. Had the visibility been better, she would've been starting this match on much less even footing.
When the countdown ended and the match began, Shepard started to wind her way around the edges of the courtyard, staying behind cover as much as possible. Her heart skipped when she quickly leapt to the far side of an open doorway. She crawled cautiously below the open window, wondering if Garrus was able to see the movement through the snow. His eyes were sharper than hers, she knew, leaving him at an advantage. She bit her lip as she approached another door, knowing that if Garrus had seen her before, he'd be watching this next opening carefully. She still didn't see a way up to the second level that ringed the arena, but she had little doubt that that's where he'd be.
She crouched next to the doorway, deciding upon a combat roll to reach the far side. Garrus was ambitious—he'd want the headshot. She would have to stay low. She half-hoped he would take a shot at her and reveal his location, but she knew him better than that. If a shot rang out, she'd most likely be hit before she could follow the sound.
She swallowed her nerves and threw herself across the opening. Screech. Shepard tumbled down on the far side, and froze.
FUCK.
Shepard pressed against the wall next to the door, swearing silently. Damn it, she should have been more careful! Her armor had scraped against the ground—hard. If Garrus didn't know where she was before, he'd have a damn good idea now. She glanced around and swore in silence again. She'd found the stairs to the upper level—not four meters from her, but completely exposed.
Shepard considered her options. She crept to the nearest window and peeked, just barely, over the edge. There wasn't much to work with out there. Through the snow she couldn't see any other paths up, and wasn't sure there even were any. He definitely had the advantage over her now. All she could see was the barest outline of the far corridor and the open courtyard littered with crates.
Wait…
She grinned suddenly, the kind of crazed grin that her team knew far too well. Grunt and Jack loved that expression. Garrus, not so much. She had an idea. A crazy and dangerous idea, but lucky for her, crazy and dangerous was her specialty.
Shepard shuffled as close to the staircase as she could without revealing herself, and took a long, slow breath. She gathered dark energy around her and stretched out a hand.
All hell broke loose. A mass of crates, haloed in blue, flew across the courtyard. Shepard began running. As the crates slammed against the far wall, she took the stairs two at a time. A shot rang out. Shepard laughed as it hit somewhere behind her.
Three seconds to reload—three seconds to find cover. One. She reached the top of the stairs. Two. She scrambled forward, her eyes latching onto a crate a few meters away. Three. She slid into place behind the cover, heart racing and chest heaving as her blood sang with adrenaline. There was no second shot fired. He was waiting.
She quieted her breathing as best she could, listening for anything to break the silence. Would he move from his spot now that he'd revealed himself? She heard no sounds of movement, but Garrus was subtle when he wanted to be. Kasumi had once offered to teach Shepard a bit about infiltration, but she'd turned her down, knowing she didn't have the temperament. Now, she was wishing she'd taken the thief up on her offer.
Shepard crept forward in cover, moving closer and closer to the turian's hiding place. She reached a doorway.
Garrus knew where she was, Shepard had little doubt of that. She didn't need to be sneaky this time, she just needed to get across the opening without Garrus landing a hit. Her eyes searched for something, anything, to solve her predicament. When her gaze landed on a crate on the far side of the doorway, she smiled.
She crouched next to the opening and drew upon her biotic power. She reached out, wrapping the crate in a pulsing blue glow. It slid towards her, once inch at a time. Almost there—
The second shot rang out.
Shepard's suit jolted suddenly as a shock ran through her. She fell and landed hard, scrambling to get back against the wall of her hiding place. Her left arm went rigid, clamping up against her stomach. She tried to move it, but the armor had locked down. No medi-gel, she remembered. She was stuck this way for the rest of the fight. And—son of a bitch—it was her left arm. Her biotics arm. With a quiet growl, she shoved her pistol back in the holster and shook out her right arm, wiggling her fingers. Her biotics were more important than her pistol in this fight. A blue glow traveled from her fingertips to the fine bones of her shoulder, but it was weak and unsteady, out of practice. Damn it.
Shepard paused to take account of her situation. Fortunately, she had managed to maneuver the crate into place, giving her enough cover to cross the doorway without incident. She crawled awkwardly, one arm locked tight against her, until she reached the other side. If she was right about his location, Garrus wasn't far from her now. She took a quick peek from the doorway, and thought she might have glimpsed the barrel of a rifle. Once she made it around the corner, he wouldn't have a good angle on her anymore. If she could lure him to fire one more time, she might be able to rush him and take him down before he could level that rifle at her again.
There was one more opening to cross before she reached the corner. She took a deep breath. She could do this.
She crawled below a window and stood next to the doorway, her heart racing in anticipation. She ducked her head out.
She pulled back just as quickly, right as a shot rang out. As she broke into a run, she grinned. Scoped and dropped. Ha! She skidded around the corner, finally catching sight of her target. He glanced up, tossing away his sniper rifle in favor of an automatic, pre-loaded and ready to fire. A short burst rang out as Shepard dropped behind the nearest crate.
"Well, well, Commander," Garrus drawled. His flanging sent a current of sparks to tickle the base of her spine. "Looks like we're at a bit of a standstill."
"I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," Shepard said cockily, though she was still trying to figure out what exactly those tricks would be. She hadn't actually thought this far in her plan.
"Oh?" He gave a low chuckle. The bastard knew exactly what his voice did to her. He was playing dirty now. "I've got a few tricks myself."
Shepard huddled lower behind the crate, hoping he wouldn't see the biotic glow forming around her as she prepared for her attack. "We'll see about that."
She rose quickly. Garrus fired immediately, but the bursts from his assault rifle were deflected by the powerful barrier Shepard had formed around her. It flickered unsteadily under continuous fire as she raised her arm, glowing brightly with biotic power. Her amp burned in the back of her skull, but she ignored it, focusing her energy on preparing one big push.
The sudden intrusion of the buzzer and flashing light startled Shepard and Garrus both.
The rifle stopped firing, Shepard's immobilized arm fell swinging to her side, and the scene around them melted away into the bare bones of the arena. Shepard's biotic push struck a now-distracted Garrus, throwing him back skidding against the metal floor.
Garrus let out a groan as he sat up slowly. "Was that necessary, Shepard?" he asked, unlatching his helmet and shooting her a wry look.
Shepard gave a low chuckle as she strode to his side and offered a hand to help him up. "Sorry, big guy. I couldn't just pull back when I was already in the process, you know?"
His mandibles flexed, some cross between exasperation and amusement. "I don't know, actually, but I'll take your word for it."
They made their way to the exit slowly, stretching and flexing their sore muscles on the way. They chatted aimlessly as they stripped themselves of weapons and armor and headed back out into the wards, stopping only to make a tongue-in-cheek complaint to the front desk about ending their match before they could declare a winner.
Garrus turned to Shepard as they stepped out into the bustling street. "Lunch and a vid?" he suggested.
She shrugged. "As long as it's not the latest Blasto, I'm game."
Garrus suggested a nearby restaurant he'd visited in his C-Sec days, and they walked along in companionable silence. As they approached the restaurant, Shepard elbowed him in the side. "By the way? I totally won."
Garrus laughed out loud. "In your dreams, Shepard," he teased, but he couldn't stop the warm smile that spread across his face.
Lunch passed in friendly tactical debates and war stories, and they headed to the vids, making sure, at Shepard's adamant request, not to choose Blasto.
…
"This vid is terrible," Shepard whispered.
"You picked it."
"You said you heard it was good!"
"I did! Tali said it had great reviews."
"Tali said?"
A salarian two rows in front of them twisted around in his seat to give them a rather comical salarian glare.
Shepard lowered her voice to a whisper. "Garrus, her favorite vid of all time is Fleet and Flotilla. The sing-along version."
"Fleet and Flotilla isn't bad."
"Christ—"
"The battle scenes are critically acclaimed for their accuracy and the lead actors—"
"You know you could admit that you just like the romance."
"Don't you dare, Shepard." He growled threateningly, but she just smiled.
Shepard's fingers crept up the turian's arm, curling around his cowl. She leaned in close, her warm breath tickling his neck. "I know a way we could make this vid more interesting."
A shiver ran up his spine. "Do tell," he rumbled, sliding a gloved hand up her leg. Her breath hitched. Two could play this game.
Shepard pushed herself up slightly to look around, using her hand on his cowl as leverage. Garrus followed her gaze. They were near the back of the theater, with no one closer than the salarian two rows ahead.
Suddenly, Garrus had a bad feeling about how far Shepard intended to take this game.
She dropped down from her seat without another word, kneeling on the sticky theater floor. He stared at her, unable to tear his eyes away, as she nudged his knees apart and placed herself between them. She looked up with a devilish grin and began to unbutton his pants.
Spirits. The knowledge of what she was about to do was enough to make his plates loosen. She leaned in slowly, savoring each moment of anticipation.
Her warm, wet tongue met the seam of his plates, and he shuddered immediately. She laved up the seam, which was widening quickly at the feel of her. His arousal mounted, only heightened by the fear of discovery. He tamped down on an instinctive rumble of anticipation. She drew back as he emerged, licking her lips like he was the tastiest thing on the menu. She went in for the kill.
Spirits save me. She was doing that thing with her mouth. The humans on the ship called it a blow job, but Garrus hadn't noticed any blowing, just sucking. Glorious sucking. Human lips were the universe's greatest gift.
Her hands slipped up under the hem of his shirt and—oh. He writhed in his seat when she squeezed his waist brazenly. His grip tightened on the armrests, determined to keep his composure. But spirits, when she was doing that…
The smallest of growls escaped him, subvocals aching to sing his pleasure. He clamped down on it, feeling like he might burst. His mandibles fluttered wildly.
She backed off to tease him with her tongue. She was warm and wet and oh-so-soft and, spirits, everything about her was the best damn thing in the galaxy. Her fingers gently traced the place where his plates ended and exposed hide began. But those fingers became stronger and more insistent, and that tongue led her lips to surround him again. She went deeper, encasing as much of him as she could in her hot, wet mouth. Garrus couldn't take it much longer.
Pleasure flooded his body when his seed did her mouth. His eyes fluttered shut and his lip plates parted, mouthing a silent moan. He shuddered at the force of her swallows as she drank him down. Before he'd even begun to compose himself, she'd wiped her mouth once and climbed back into her chair, feigning interest in the vid that still ran on the screen. Garrus panted, his fingers fumbling to fasten his pants over his retracting member. It took until the end of the vid for his heart to stop racing.
When the credits started rolling, Garrus leaned over to his mate. "If Tali asks, what should I say about the vid?"
Shepard smiled wickedly. "Tell her to bring Kal'Reegar."
…
Dinner had been casual enough, as had their walk in the Presidium gardens. Shepard had been at ease, happy and laughing like she hadn't in far too long. But when they reached the hotel Garrus had selected, her brow furrowed.
Shepard was sure she was the dingiest thing in that hotel lobby, with its shining marble floors and honest-to-god imported wood paneling. The asari at the desk gave them a condescending smile that only became real once she saw Garrus's reservation. They rode up to their room in an elevator that Shepard swore was bigger than most captain's cabins.
Shepard gaped when Garrus opened up their suite, greeted with the sight of a panoramic view, king size bed, and every luxury that she could imagine. She stopped just inside the door and turned to her companion.
"Garrus, all of this has to be extremely expensive," she worried. "I know that combat sim wasn't cheap and this place…" She trailed off, turning again to look at the extravagant room around her. "This place is incredible."
He came close behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "The entire crew pitched in, Shepard. As a thank you for saving them on the Collector base, and, well… as a birthday present. The crew really wanted to do something for you, and we knew that you wouldn't want the attention of a party."
Shepard blinked, floored at the thought. A lump rose up in her throat. Of course she came for them on the Collector base. It had never been a question of whether to save them. They were her crew. And as for the other thing…
"How did you even find out it was my birthday?" she asked, bewildered. She rarely celebrated it herself. Hell, she wasn't even sure how old she was anymore. Did the two years count? When she'd asked Miranda about it, she'd gone into a long technical explanation about how her age no longer had any relevant bearing on her longevity because of her cybernetic upgrades.
Garrus's eyes were smiling. "We're friends with the Shadow Broker. There's not much she doesn't know."
A thought struck her, and she turned quickly under his hands. "Garrus, I don't even know when your birthday is," she said, brows drawn together in sudden concern.
He let out a quiet chuckle. "You didn't miss it, Shepard. Don't worry. Besides, I don't think it's as big of a deal to us as it is to humans."
"When is it?" she asked.
His mandibles flared in a grin. "Feel free to ask the Shadow Broker if you want to know."
She punched his arm lightly, shaking her head at his obstinacy. "You win for now," she conceded. "Lets check out this amazing hotel room."
Garrus trailed behind Shepard as she wandered the suite, chuckling as she stopped to touch and gape at everything she found. She let out a surprisingly girlish squeal at the sight of the hot tub, looking back at Garrus with excitement in her eyes.
"You go ahead," he said, smiling indulgently. "I'll be right there."
Shepard stripped quickly and slid into the water, moaning at the exquisite heat on her muscles. God, she didn't know the last time she'd done something as wonderfully decadent as this. Even by her own estimation—which was two years short of everyone else's—it had to have been years. She closed her eyes and reveled in it, letting the gentle bubbles pamper her into oblivion.
"Hey," she heard from behind her. Shepard raised her head and turned, smiling at the sight.
Garrus approached the hot tub with a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. "I've got wine."
Shepard laughed. "Let me guess—the best you could afford on a vigilante's salary?"
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't remind me of my terrible attempts at romance," he said dryly. "My pride can only take so much of this."
"You know, I still haven't figured out whether my waist being 'very supportive' was actually a compliment."
Garrus shook his head as he cracked open the bottle. "I didn't know anything about complimenting a human. I like to think I've learned a little since then."
Shepard grinned up at him from her seat. "I thought it was adorable."
He huffed a laugh as he filled their glasses. "Adorable, huh? Just what every badass vigilante hero wants to be called."
"Badass vigilante hero?" she repeated, amused. Her eyes followed Garrus appreciatively as he stripped out of the last of his clothing. "You can be both adorable and a badass vigilante hero."
He lowered himself into the water. "You're the only person in the galaxy who could ever get away with saying that about Archangel, you know."
She smiled to herself, a warm feeling rising up in her that had nothing to do with the heat of the water. "I know."
Garrus settled in across from her, letting their legs tangle together. His rough hide scraped pleasantly against her skin. "So you humans relax by sitting in hot water. I never understood that," Garrus mused. "I'll concede that it's nice and warm in here, but all this open water is making me nervous."
Shepard snorted. "If you start to drown, I'll be sure to save you. And we're not the only species that likes hot tubs," she reminded him. "Asari use them and, uh… salarians, I think."
"They don't count. They're amphibious."
"Details." She waved her hand dismissively before reaching for the glass Garrus held out to her. She gently clinked it against his. "To us, and being big damn heroes."
Shepard paused as she touched the glass to her lips. "This isn't going to poison one of us, is it?" Shepard asked. "Because that is definitely not how I wanted this night to end."
"It's safe," he promised, taking a sip as if to prove his point. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Uh, how exactly did you want this night to end?"
Her lips curled upwards as she looked across the open floor plan, her eyes settling on the large bed at the far wall. "I think it should end with us shamelessly rolling all over those high-class sheets." Her eyes sparkled. "A tiebreaker?"
Garrus groaned. "Shepard…"
She couldn't help but laugh.
They stayed in the hot tub until Shepard's toes were wrinkled, their wine glasses were drained, and Garrus had found his way to Shepard's side of the tub. He held her on his lap, lazily tracing the lines of her body with his talons. Every now and then, his hand would find its way to her breast or brush ever so slightly over her core. "You going to make good on any of this teasing, Vakarian?" she finally asked, giving him a challenging look.
Garrus lifted her bodily from the water, crooking an arm below her knees to carry her in his arms. "What are you doing?" she asked, but no answer came. In silence he set her down next to the bed and motioned for her to stay put. Water pooled on the hardwood floor. Garrus came back around the corner with towels in his hands, and crouched on the floor before her.
She opened her mouth to question, but was stilled by the request in his eyes. She glanced at the towel he held and gave him a slow, consenting nod.
With gentle hands, he began to dry her from the ground up. Garrus worked slowly and methodically, giving each part of her equal care and consideration. She couldn't tear her eyes from the sweetly intent look on his face, the concentration with which he completed a task that she usually did without a second thought.
She bit her lip when he parted her thighs and later when he gently lifted each breast, but he continued on his way single-mindedly until he determined his task was complete. Only then did he drop the towel, brushing a fluttering mandible against the skin of her abdomen. He skimmed her hips with the rough pads of his fingers and nuzzled into the softened skin. At long last he stood slowly, moving around behind her with his hands following after.
His arousal became apparent as he pressed himself against her, but his motions stayed slow and deliberate. He held her there with a hand splayed across her stomach, and leaned in with his tongue to trace the shell of her ear. It wasn't long before Shepard found herself dripping wet again, but for an entirely different reason.
He lifted her a second time, hands caressing as he laid her on the bed. He gazed down at her fondly, following the lines of her body all the way to her toes and back up to her eyes. Carefully, his hand reached forward to brush a lock of red hair away from her face.
Only then did he begin to touch her again, each stroke against her skin just enough to inflame. When she burned for him all over, she closed her eyes and writhed, but he would not be rushed. She opened her eyes and her breath caught, suddenly lost in the depth of two blue eyes that watched her with longing and tenderness and maybe even love. The attentions of men had never left her in doubt of her own attractiveness, but she had never felt so beautiful as she did under the gaze of this turian. A sudden need to kiss him overwhelmed her. She curled her fingers around the edges of his plates, tugging him down to meet her lips. His lip plates didn't have the flexibility and give of a human lover's, but she didn't need that. She needed him. When he finally buried himself within her, his thrusts resonated like the beating of her own heart, the pulse of life. She came with a gasp and a shudder, whispering his name like a prayer. Garrus.
He was her Achilles' heel and might even be her downfall, but she'd earned the right to be a little bit selfish. She'd always fought for the galaxy, but maybe now she had something more. This—him—was what she would cling to.
This was something worth fighting for.
…