Chapter 3

"Shepard, thanks for the help." She took Jacob's hand when he offered it, slightly surprised at the strength of his grip. It seemed like he was trying to convey sincerity in the solemn moment.

"Anytime, Jacob." She schooled her expression, not wanting him to mistake any kindness for pity. He may have been with Cerberus, but he was still a decent person.

She left the Communications Room and headed straight to the bar, knowing Garrus was likely already there. When she arrived, he had already poured himself a drink, and already had an empty glass out of her. She waited to speak until the door had closed behind her.

"So, what is it about people with unhealthy relationships with their parents flocking to me?" Anya asked, snagging a bottle of wine and moving to stand next to the turian.

"You're a kindred spirit. You practically reek of abandonment issues," he said evenly, trying to keep a straight face.

"Have I ever told you how inspiring our little talks are?" She poured the glass as she spoke, watching the clear, pink-tinted liquid as its level rose.

"You know, I can't say that I recall you saying that."

"Ever wonder why?" She shot him a sideways look and cocked an eyebrow, mock glaring at the turian.

"You look up to me too much, I already know." He didn't hesitate with his quip, though his solemn expression had slipped.

She snorted. "I'm sure that's what it is."

The silence stretched between them for a few minutes.

"Shep?"

"Yeah?"

"You do know that if you ever want to talk about your stuff, you can with me, right?" His voice softened as he spoke.

"Yeah, I know. I just...I'm kinda over it, you know?" Her hand tightened around her glass a little. "It was upsetting when I was a kid, to know they didn't want me. Up until I ran away, I used to hope they'd miss me, and take me home."

"How old were you when you ran? I remember you saying that you were young."

"I was nine the first time. I was eleven the last time."

"Got caught?"

"Unfortunately. My second attempt was better; I learned." She took a long drink from her glass. This had not been how she'd expected her downtime to be spent.

"So, why run?"

"I...well, it was a lot of things. My parents left me in a shit hole with almost exclusively oatmeal, unsalted rice, and beans for food, which meant I didn't eat much, which meant I was in a foul mood and looked sickly. Now, that meant the nuns felt like I was in need of a good caning on a regular basis, since tired, hungry children are god awful assholes. It also meant that parents stayed aggressively clear of me, because who wants a kid that looks like hell and has an attitude problem?" She shrugged half-heartedly. "I get it."

"I'm sure that was rough for you."

"Life is suffering." She cringed a little when she said it.

"Now you're just being purposefully dark."

"Not exactly. So, imagine expecting life to suck. Now think about how amazing good times are when you have low expectations." She took another sip.

"Does that make you an optimist or a pessimist?" He was watching her, curiosity etched on his features.

"I think it makes me a Buddhist," she joked. "Now all I need is to give up unprompted violence and cut off all my hair."

"Spirits, you people are crazy. And why would you cut it off? It looks nice." He shook his head and took a swallow of his own drink.

She laughed. "I guess I'll have to hold off on the whole enlightenment thing, then, since I have you over here stroking my ego."

"How you suffer," he said drily.

"Anything for you, big guy." She smiled a little. Her voice got a little quieter when she continued, "What about you? Got anything you want to get off your chest?"

He made a derisive noise and took a drink. "You already know pretty much all of my stuff."

"Then is any of the old stuff bothering you?"

"Not really. Just stressed out for all the regular reasons."

"How's your mom?"

"A little worse," he admitted. "I...I don't think I'm ready for her to go."

"No one's really ready for something like that." She reached up and squeezed his shoulder. His hand came up and squeezed hers. "Have you written her and Sol?"

"I have. It's never enough in a situation like this, though."

"I know." Her voice was sympathetic. "How is your dad?"

"He's...himself. It's all distance and disappointment." The turian's voice took on an edge as he spoke, expression dark.

"I'm sorry, Garrus. I'm sure he cares. Just try to be patient." She could already tell the platitudes fell flat.

"I get tired of being patient, Shep. I just...I wanted him to want me. I have spent my whole life trying and failing to live up to the examples of other people." He took another drink, draining his glass. "First it was his example, then yours, and I'm tired of feeling inadequate."

"Garrus, do you know why you're here?" she asked, after a moment.

"Because you don't want me to bleed to death the next time I'm in trouble." His voice was grim and quiet.

"It's because you are arguably one of the best shots in the Milky Way, on top of being nearly as strong as a krogan, and being a brilliant tactician. You are brave and awesome, and you don't have to live up to anyone else, because you are a badass. It's an honor to have you here, Garrus, and I'm not going to let you talk shit about yourself like that." She finished her glass quickly.

"I...hmmm."

"Speechless? That's new," she teased, bumping her shoulder into his lightly.

"I'm glad I have you as a friend." The statement was simple, but it made her smile.

"Good. I'm glad I can be the friend you deserve."

"You hit all your marks on that front. Emotionally supportive, doesn't take me for granted, never lets me do anything stupid by myself…" He looked at her with a small smile. "I do have a question, though: one of the best shots in the Galaxy?"

"Well, I couldn't very well say the best shot in the galaxy." She tossed her hair a little and shot him a sly grin.

"Oh?"

"I mean, you are competing against me," she said, feeling her grin turn cocky.

"Oh, right for the heart!" He joking grabbed his chest as if wounded. She laughed, and he smiled. "I'm going to have to remember that."

"Promises, promises," she murmured, pouring herself another glass. She stopped short, leaving the glass half full.

(Am I flirting with Garrus?)

He didn't seem to notice, pouring himself another as well. She very suddenly felt uncomfortable and out of place. She took a long swallow as she tried not to look relieved.

"So, what's next up on the itinerary?"

"Honestly, I have to figure it out. I'm going to be reading up on like four different mission proposals before end of day tomorrow. It's a nightmare," she grumbled, trying to get back in the conversation in a normal headspace as she took a smaller sip.

"If you need help getting through them, let me know. I'm always willing to subject myself to the dangers of paperwork for you."

"Ugh, don't tempt me. If I start seeing double when I read I'll call you." She knew he meant the offer, but didn't want to pass it on unless she had to.

"I'll hold you to it." He took another long drink.

"I think I'm going to call it for tonight. Gotta be up bright and early. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Oh seven hundred?"

"Like you even need to ask." She smiled and drained the last of her wine. "I'll see you then. Good night, big guy."

"Good night."

She walked away, but glanced back just before the door closed. He was watching her leave, and the realization made her heart beat a little faster.

(Fuck…)

That wasn't what she expected. She wondered if she was becoming attracted to her friend, and quickly pushed the thought away. She didn't have time for romance. Hell, she barely had time to sleep most days. She started towards Mordin's lab.

(Who in their right mind would be attracted to me, anyway?)

She scowled at that thought.

(I need to shut the fuck up.)

She entered the lab to find the salarian bustling around, moving what appeared to be a collection of samples over to a piece of equipment.

"Hey, Mordin."

"Shepard," he nodded as he began tweaking the settings on the machine.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

"Ask away. If I can help, I certainly will."

"And I also must ask for discretion."

"I wouldn't stand for the alternative." He looked at her expectantly.

"I was wondering if you knew of any experimental trials for a particular degenerative condition that afflicts turians."

"Garrus?"

"His mother."

"I see. Forward me any relevant information, and I will make contact with the appropriate people. If there's anything to be found, I will pass the information on to Officer Vakarian. Anonymously, of course. No sense in calling undue attention." He turned back to his equipment. "If there's anything we can do to improve her quality of life, it will be done. Rest assured of that."

"Thank you, Mordin."

"It's nothing." The salarian seemed distracted.

"If you say so." Anya smiled as she departed. Hopefully he could find a little hope for her friend, or at least a little less pain.

Garrus deserved that much.