Wow it's been a while since I've updated [insert excuses about real life here]. Some of you will notice that my pen name has changed, but don't worry it won't happen again. I opted for something different, and I figured it would be okay since my following is still pretty small. Anyway, I had planned to make up for the long absence with a big chapter, but it was a monster. So, I broke it into two halves. However, this means Part 2 shouldn't be long in the coming! As always, thank you to my beta AblatedCrayon and thank you to everyone who had faved, followed or reviewed! It makes my day to hear from you!

Ch. 9: Conflicted, Part 1

Miranda

The climate control was on full blast in my room, and I shivered as the air current brushed against my bare shoulders. I hurried out of my uniform and into my robe, leaving my clothing in a trail behind me as I tried to make it to my bed and the warmth it promised.

I turned around as I heard the doors to the office open, sliding quietly on oiled tracks as my visitor stepped inside. She was out of uniform and wearing a tank top that stretched appealingly across her taut stomach. Her shorts were loose and she was strangely barefoot as she stepped towards me.

This isn't right. She shouldn't be here.

Shepard's hands found the opening of my robe as she tugged the two sides apart, her hands creating fire across my skin as they settled possessively on my hips. A strangled sound was caught in my throat, cut off so by Shepard crashing her lips against mine. She tasted of wine and cherries, and the smell of her hair and her skin assaulted my senses as she pulled me urgently closer, crushing her body against mine.

Shepard's dark red hair brushed against my cheek as she kissed me deeper, a hand sliding up from my waist to cup the back of my neck. The fingers of her left hand left trails of fire all across my body, while her right hand stayed firmly holding me in place, driving me crazy when her mouth followed her hand to the side of my neck. I tilted my head to give her more access, and suddenly I was drowning in the feeling that was Shepard. All I could see was her. She was everywhere, setting fire to everything and consuming me with it. I took a step back, uncertain why this was happening so fast.

"No, wait, Shepard, I'm not going to do this," I said, taking another step back. Green eyes regarded me in silence, hurt. "I don't want just a one night stand."

Why was that? One night had always been enough for me before.

Those emerald eyes lit on fire again as a smile stretch beautifully across her face and crinkled the skin at her eyes. Shepard stepped in closer again, once more slipping an arm around my waist until she could snuggle her face into my neck. She kissed her way up and along my jaw until placing a tender kiss on my mouth, tugging gently on my bottom lip with her teeth.

"Then take me forever, Miranda. I'm yours," she whispered in my ear, pulling us backwards to crash onto the bed...

Someone dropping a tray in the mess startled me awake. The clock showed five in the evening, and I groaned, stretching my neck from where I had fallen asleep on my desk. I hadn't realized how tired I had become, what with the late nights and the constant stress that Shepard presented.

I considered going to sleep early for once. The crew wouldn't miss me; most of them had quickly left the ship after we docked at the Citadel an hour ago. I doubted Shepard would come looking for me either. She had been in a strange mood all morning, retreating into the medbay with Chakwas after agreeing to meet the Citadel closer to 'morning' (even though it was always day on the Citadel) instead of immediately.

I grabbed my robe where it hung in its usual spot on the back of the chair, the same robe I'd been wearing in the dream when Shepard had pulled it open, fingertips leaving blazing trails across my ...No. I needed to get myself under control. That dream was just that, a dream, and it was probably only brought on by that crazy moment yesterday during training. I didn't really want Shepard here, touching me like that, trailing kisses downward.

I sighed in frustration.

Breakfast with Shepard and the team had been an emotional rollercoaster, with Shepard sitting too close to the turian and simple glances from her sending shudders through me. It meant nothing. I was in control. The urge to kiss her yesterday was a passing fancy, nothing more, and it happened to turn itself into a very vivid dream. I tried over and over to convince myself. I cared about Shepard, sure; I had started to accept that, but this? No, I couldn't handle that my protectiveness was becoming more.

It's just stress. I'm overworking myself and need a release. Yes, that's it. The explanation sounded flimsy even in my own head. Me, overworked? Nonsense. I thought once more of Shepard and the fire in her eyes as she kissed every inch of skin she could get, and how her fingers would feel on my hips as she pulled me towards her. I gasped, my hands gripping my thighs so hard they turned white. Dear God this shouldn't be happening.

I almost tripped over myself as I ran to the bathroom and jumped into the shower, letting the icy stream make me squirm and forget. It took minutes before the fire dancing across my skin seemed to calm down, and I twisted the dial to allow the water to get warmer while I actually washed my body. When I finished, I finally felt closer to normal so I pulled on my white suit and settled back at my computer. My intentions of turning in early were forgotten; there was no way I would be sleeping soon after a dream like that.

I resisted banging my head against the desk in frustration at the first message marked priority in my inbox. The sender's address read Ashley Williams, and the lack of rank behind the name told me the message was from her personal frequency, not the Alliance. No doubt this was yet another message that I would feel obligated to send on to Shepard, and then watch as they inevitably made her feel more alone than when she thought no one had messaged. At least then Shepard had been able to lie to herself and say the messages had been lost. Now she would be getting correspondence after correspondence telling her bluntly that they weren't willing to help. Ignorance was bliss, after all. If I had received these messages from my friends—well, in a world where I possessed more than one friend—I would be angry at them, too. I flicked my fingers across the console to open the new message.

From: Williams, Ashley

To: Shepard, Commander

I took a moment to muse how even Shepard's closest friend replaced the slot for her first name with Commander. Did she even know what it was?

Shepard, I've been hearing some bad things. I know you're working with Cerberus and that you're on your standard hero trip again. I don't trust them, and I hope you don't either.

I can't say I'm not worried about you, Shepard. I'm hoping you're still the woman I remember. Anderson is still here protecting you, like always, and he asked me to make sure that everything is on the up and up before bringing you before the Council. No doubt you've already received his invitation.

Allow me to offer one of my own. I'm on the Citadel, hopefully your next destination. Mass relay records showed your recent jump this morning, making it evening tonight for the Normandy to arrive here. If you're coming here, meet me at Rover's, that awful diner down in the Wards—you should remember it from that one shore leave—at 0900 tomorrow. Please, come see me before you go to the Council.

I hope it's really you, Skipper. Life's been really shitty without you.

Chief

P.S. Hey Cerberus Lady, if I'm right that you're reading this, tell Shepard about the damn meeting. I just want to talk.

I knew for certain I wasn't going to let Shepard see this, nevermind actually attend the meeting. Seeing Ashley Williams could ruin any kind of acceptance and camaraderie that Shepard had built on the ship. It had been a little more than a few weeks, but she had finally seemed to settle in a bit better, and the training yesterday had seen her smiling as she got on the elevator. I had even witnessed her shaking hands with one of the Cerberus crew. That had to be a step in the right direction, and I wasn't going to throw out our progress, little as it was.

I was, however, curious about what Ashley had to say, especially since she was asking to meet before Shepard saw the Council. That likely meant that whatever interest Ashley had in Shepard was not officially on the books. So, was she just an old friend, sharing mutual concern with Anderson, getting in touch, or was there something more? I sighed; it must be the latter of the two. It would make my life too easy otherwise. Besides, she had known about me specifically, and I doubted Alliance intel was that good, meaning she talked to someone with better information...Liara T'Soni.

Alright, it looks like I have a breakfast date, I mused while trying to pin down what I would need to accomplish before setting foot on the Citadel tomorrow.

I would have to do some better background digging on Williams later; I knew precious little about her except that she had served with Shepard after Eden Prime. However, until then, I really needed some breakfast. My stomach growled on cue as I pushed out of my chair and away from the desk. Padding over to my door, I grabbed my boots that leaned against the wall and pulled them on before stepping outside. Dinner first, then recon on one Ashley Williams.

XXX

Garrus

"Talk to you later, Miranda," I said. Miranda gave a brief nod in my direction, her thoughts already engaged somewhere else. We had talked over dinner, though it had been tense and strained. I wasn't quite sure where I stood with her, and, frankly, sometimes the way she studied me made me uncomfortable.

It was an easy enough decision to turn for the back of the deck. I wasn't ready to hole up in the battery yet, and, surely, that lounge I had seen was well stocked. I considered turning around and inviting Miranda to join me, but thought better of it. While I was glad I had the chance to speak with Miranda, it had gotten a little more emotional than I had really wanted. She had alluded to her worries over Shepard; I hoped I'd said enough to put her mind at ease. Maybe if she wasn't so busy worrying that she had screwed up Shepard's head, she would actually start to be friends with Shepard. Or maybe be less bitchy. That woman was so closed off, she gave the commander a run for her money.

I shook off my thoughts and made a turn for the laundry room that abutted the crew quarters, stopping to grab my bag of clothing that I had dropped outside the door earlier in anticipation for the chore. It would have been nice to talk to Shepard a bit more since we hadn't had many chances to talk one on one the past week, but I had seen her head towards the medbay with a bottle. I took that as a sign that she wanted some time with Chakwas. I was glad to give it to her, especially after she was so...nice at the breakfast table this morning. Her moods were becoming difficult to keep up with; I found myself glad we had already established a friendship. Otherwise, I'd be afraid of waking up one day to her booting my ass out of the airlock.

Women.

I knew Shepard was getting excited to see another familiar face, especially since Anderson was pretty much her father. I'm guessing her relationship with her 'dad' was better than what I had with my old man. The minute I got all sentimental about seeing that grumpy bastard, he would open his mouth and remind me why I had stayed away for so long. Whatever, so long as Shepard seemed happy.

It was Shepard's happiness that had seemed to throw Miranda this morning, and I would bet my gun that it was the only reason the woman deigned to sit near me at dinner. While she had reluctantly shared her concerns, her questions had been pointed. So much so that I had become suspicious. Shoot, if I didn't know any better I'd almost think Miranda was jealous...

Jealous, I realized slowly, the word trickling down through my thoughts with some reluctance. Damn, that was going to screw up some of my plans.

I was pretty sure Shepard was still hung up on someone. I mean, to her, two years ago was yesterday, and I definitely knew there had been something going on with her back then. It started two years ago when a very drunk Shepard had very clearly filled me in on her sexual preferences. We had been spending so much time together, and she wanted to make sure that—and I quote—I didn't get any fucking ideas about her. Well, I wasn't an idiot. Shepard was hardly a subtle flirt, and she sure as hell hadn't been flirting with the men in the bar.

Then about halfway through our mission against Saren, around the time we defeated the Thorian, if memory served, Shepard got really private, even more than usual. She stopped flirting in the bars when we had the occasional night on the Citadel. That was when I knew she had found someone serious, though I couldn't figure out who it was. My bets were on either Ashley or Liara; they both spent most of their time around the commander and got all starry eyed when she walked in the room.

I suppose I couldn't blame Miranda, if my suspicions were correct. Shepard was something else, and this wasn't the first time this had happened with a crew member. Only most of the time Shepard was a dense rock-head and had no idea when someone had landed head over ass in love with her.

Still, the extranet had clearly said that female/female relationships were rare in humans. What the hell were the odds of this? I was deceived by faulty intel. That's the last time I would look up anything on EarthWiki, those bastards.

I guess I could just hope the women could reign in all their feelings until the mission was over. Or maybe I should just be grateful that I wouldn't have as much resistance from Miranda as I anticipated.

Eager for a distraction from the stressful direction of my thoughts, I hauled my paltry bag of clothing onto my shoulder, happy when I saw the laundry machines were unoccupied. In the rush to get away from Omega, I hadn't exactly stopped to pack a suitcase, and now I was stuck with the underarmor suit and armor I had been wearing on Omega, as well as two casual outfits Shepard had found for me on Omega after picking up the professor. I hadn't wanted to show my face on Omega just yet with all the mercenary gangs still riled up, so I had requested Shepard pick something up. Unfortunately, Shepard was a horrible judge of size and both of the tops were big enough to fit a krogan—perhaps they were actually krogan shirts?—and the pants were horribly tight. I was making do, but by the way Shepard kept smirking at me, I was beginning to suspect she had picked up the wrong sizes on purpose.

Needless to say, I had been looking forward to the Normandy docking with the Citadel. I was planning on running to a shop to find proper attire later this evening. There was bound to be a few places open that would have what I needed. I wanted to go with Shepard to her meeting with the Council, and I refused to present myself in ill-fitting clothing. Secretly, I was thinking I'd need to keep Shepard, especially her mouth, in check. Councilor Sparatus was one of her least favorite people, and with the kind of enemies that Shepard had, that was saying something. Every time Shepard had reported to the Council during our hunt for Saren I had been afraid that she would start some galactic incident with them.

Even without tomorrow's meeting, I was determined to at least have something clean to wear around the Citadel tonight; my underarmor especially needed some cleaning. My only problem was that I had no idea how to work the blasted human machines. The Alliance had had crew assigned to laundry detail, including picking it up and returning it, pristine and folded, to my bunk. That didn't seem likely here. Even if there was a laundry detail, I had doubts the crew would extend the courtesy to the turian.

That's how I found myself staring at a small sign on the wall with uniformly printed lettering explaining, in simple sentences, how the machines worked. While I could easily maintain the Normandy's whole battery by myself, I still found myself looking at the laundry machine like it was about to open up and grab me.

Okay, first instruction says to put soap into the tumbler. Right….soap, where would soap be? I saw a large bottle across the room, and held it up for inspection. It smelled correct and was properly labeled so I twisted off the cap and measured out a capful.

Huh, that doesn't really look like a lot of soap compared to how much room is in the tumbler. Plus, my clothes are rank. Better put in a few more. Once I had put in enough soap, I loaded the clothing in, shutting the door until it clicked and turning my attention to the dials on the machine. They looked easy enough. I put it on 'normal' and told it to use hot water before pushing in the huge start button with a talon.

The digital display on the machine told me the load would be done in thirty minutes, so I scouted out a chair in the corner of the small room and settled down to wait, pulling up my omni-tool to check my messages. Or maybe I would just play a game or two.

It had been barely five minutes when the spinning of the machine didn't sound quite right. My eyes flicked up from the screen of my omni-tool to see white suds oozing out around the seal of the machine door.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

The machine got even louder, the bubbles continuing to explode in nightmarish fashion. I tried hitting the power button to get the thing to shut off, but it was ignoring the command, and I was panicking. I didn't even realize I had begun yelling my curses out loud until Shepard burst angrily through the door.

"What the fuck is going on back here?" she bellowed, slamming through the door, but then halting at the sight of the mess on me and the laundry room floor. Her eyes flickered between me and the machine, several emotions warring across her looked like she was trying to decide between being pissed and laughing at me. Finally, she settled for giving me a smirk and walking around the machine to disconnect it from the power. She allowed the plug to drop dramatically to the floor, with a pointed look towards me. Because that was the obvious solution that I should have done. Idiot.

"Shepard, shit, I didn't mean to…" I tried to explain, before she waved a hand and cut me off.

"I should have know you'd be the one to break something first, Garrus. Damn, I just can't have anything nice. Next thing you know, I'll be commanding the Normandy SR-3," Shepard said, grinning at me.

"Yeah, yeah, you're hilarious. Some bubbles aren't even on the same level as a massive hull-shearing cannon. Meanwhile, we should focus on the important question here: how in the world are we going to clean this up?" I asked, my arms waving at the bubbly catastrophe around me.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "We? I'm not cleaning this up," she protested.

She let me feel a little lost for a moment longer before giving me that smirk that meant she was up to something.

"C'mon, let's ditch out. We can leave it to Miranda to handle," Shepard grinned.

"Woah, what? No, my clothes are still soapy!" I protested, pulling back against the hand she had put on my forearm that was now tugging me through the doorway.

"Your choice," she shrugged, letting go abruptly for me to stumble back.

"Damn it, Shepard," I muttered as she swept from the room. My baleful glare was lost on the back of her head, but I still followed her away from the laundry, crossing my talons that my clothing would get clean by some miracle, or a crew member, whatever came first. I followed the sound of Shepard's movements towards the starboard lounge.

When I walked in, I found Shepard in lying with her back on the ground and her feet propped up against the clear observation window. She didn't seem to be doing anything, just watching the stream of stars flash by. I shuffled over and joined her in her ridiculous pose on the ground, my huge feet thumping against the window.

"Why are we on the ground, Shepard?" I asked.

"It was cooler down here," Shepard responded, laughing for some reason. I shot her a curious look, but she just chuckled more and waved a hand. "Inside joke, I guess," she said, falling back into silence.

Shepard was the one to speak first.

"You know, I used to love watching the stars. I always dreamed of the day that I'd get to run off into the universe and do anything I wanted to. I was going to get away from those endless space stations and actually see the beautiful planets I had read about," she said. "Now, all I can think about when I look out there is how I suffocated and then was burned alive."

"Well, damn, Shepard you do know how to bring the mood down," I replied. Her head flopped to the side to look at me, and she grinned.

"Ass," she shot back, throwing an arm out to punch me in the side.

"You know me," I said, looking over my shoulder at her, "If you want a pity party from me, it's gonna be awfully short. Plus, I don't provide cake."

"Still an ass," she laughed. We laid in silence for a moment before she spoke up again, "I'm excited to go somewhere familiar again. I can't wait to see Anderson."

"I bet. The only familiar face you've had is Chakwas and this handsome perfection," I replied pointing at myself. "I bet he was thrilled to hear you were alive."

"Yeah," Shepard answered, the fondness evidence in her voice, "and he's already got me a meeting with the Council. His message was really short and not very friendly, but he's on the Council now and me being with Cerberus must put him under a lot of pressure. I could tell he's already trying to help me out though. He always did have my back, even when things went bad."

"You never told me how you two got so close. It doesn't seem normal for an Alliance captain to get so close to his subordinate," I said.

"That's because I knew Anderson long before I ever joined the Alliance. My mother, well, let's just say she never actually wanted children. Then she went and got divorced from my father while she was still pregnant with me, but fought to keep custody of me. Why, I never understood. I never met my father, and he died before I was old enough to try and track him down. As a single parent, my mother couldn't or wouldn't bring me with her on the ship, so I got shuffled from space station to space station, living with whatever family friends she happened to have there. I never stayed in one place for more than a year. Chakwas was my real mother, taking care of me whenever she had leave, but that wasn't always enough."

"Because I moved so much, my education was spotty at best, and eventually I just decided to stop going. None of my guardians ever really paid me enough mind to notice, or to care if they did. I did love reading, though. I read everything I could get my hands on, from plumbing manuals to quantum physics. I can't say I always understood everything, but I could usually get the gist. I learned most of my tech skills from books when I was ten years old, and figured out even more when I tested my skills on the space station systems," Shepard said, pausing to throw a mischievous smile my way.

"I got bored, and, with nothing better to do, I started getting into trouble. I found it was easy to get the other kids on the station to listen to me and follow whatever plan I had hatched up. Plus, we rarely ever got caught. I drove the station authorities nuts, but before they could ever figure it out, I would be transferred to a new station, the home dock of whatever new ship posting my mother was given."

"It was Anderson who eventually noticed the trend and tracked it to me. He knew my mother, but, more importantly, he was friends with Chakwas. He said I was a bright kid, and also realized how bored and miserable I was on those stations. He pulled some strings and made me Chakwas' assistant in the medbay when I was twelve. It's why I sleep so well in there: it reminds me of when I was younger and the medbay was my playground. I learned to help Chakwas with simple treatments, but mostly I helped her keep up with all the redundant paperwork. I loved it anyway. I finally got to spend time with someone who cared about me," Shepard's voice caught, and I quickly looked away to give her the moment to herself.

"Anyway, I was forever grateful to Anderson for that. And, I suppose, I was grateful to him for making sure I got my ass to the Alliance Academy," Shepard chuckled. "I was a stubborn child."

"I joined the Academy, not because I wanted to travel the stars, wanted to follow the family tradition, or because I wanted to fight for good in the universe. No, I joined the Alliance because on the night I was going to run away to some Earth university, Anderson introduced me to my future fiance. Her parents had been killed in a batarian raid on Mindoir, and Anderson was helping her get into the Alliance. She had all these grand plans of making space safe for humanity, so that other colonies wouldn't be hit like hers. I fell in love with her the minute I saw her, and suddenly I found myself following her to the Academy. To this day, I'm convinced that wily bastard brought her to me on purpose, almost like he knew she would be the key to get me there," Shepard said, shaking her head.

A fiance? My head was reeling. Shepard didn't wear a ring, had never talked about a wife. That must mean...oh.

The woman watched my face as I worked through to a conclusion, her eyes sad.

"When my fiance was killed on Akuze, and I survived, I didn't want to live anymore. I went off the deep end. Any fight was as good as the next. And yet, nothing made the pain go away, not with the kind of finality I was hoping for, anyway," Shepard scoffed in dry amusement.

"You'd think something like that would have shown up on your service record. In bold. Like: suffered crazy emotional break," I tried to joke. I was rewarded with a quick laugh.

"More than that: You'd think my whole service record would just come with a big ass warning label on the front," Shepard chuckled, before pausing and wrinkling her brow in thought. "Wait a second, you've read my service record, Garrus? What the hell?"

"Erm," I coughed nervously, "it wasn't a big thing really. Maybe we should just talk about it later, and you keep telling your story?"

She threw a dirty look my way, but kept talking, "Anyway, Anderson eventually knocked some sense into me, literally. Then he brought Chakwas to guilt me. I suppose you could say his methods were wildly successful."

"Why stay in the Alliance then? It sounds like you never really wanted to be there in the first place," I asked.

Shepard's head slowly turned to look at me, her eyes suddenly hard and serious. I had never seen this expression on her before. Her face was set in her usual aloof calm, but something else was swimming behind her eyes. She seemed uncertain, something she had never shown me before.

"I never did want to be here, Garrus," Shepard scoffed, coldly, and whatever soft emotion that had been in her eyes quickly disappeared. "Can you believe I have no idea why I keep doing all this? I should just leave, let someone else be the big hero. I never wanted this. Never this."

It wasn't her fault that those words made me feel like I had been punched in the stomach. I struggled for a reply but found nothing as the silence stretched out.

Shepard gave a strangled little laugh next to me.

"You know, all this, and somehow I'm still here. People just die around me, even when I'm not the one doing the killing. Good people, Garrus. But I'm always the one who makes it out, even when I didn't want to," Shepard sighed. "I guess I always thought it was just good luck or coincidence. But now, even when I did die, I was literally brought back to life. How twisted is that?"

"I...understand, Shepard. That's kind of how I felt on Omega. Hell, that's how I feel now. Even after my entire team was killed—after everything that could go wrong, did go wrong—I was still there, still fighting. Then, when I thought even I was lost, you swooped in to save the day. I guess you were my Miranda that day," I recounted.

"Thanks, Garrus," Shepard replied. But then she made a disgusted noise in her throat. "But please don't compare me to Lawson."

"Of course," I conceded, and the silence blanketed over us again. "Hey, Shepard?"

Her head turned towards me again, and she fixed me with that intense gaze that always made me feel...something. Like I was protected, but I was also the protector. Moments like these always reminded me why I would do anything for my human friend.

"It'll get better," I said at last.

"Yeah?" Shepard asked. Her eyebrows furrowed, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth as well.

"Well, at least I think it'll get better," I replied apologetically. "I'll let you know when I'm sure."

Shepard actually smiled then, slightly nodding before turning back to the window. Then her arm whipped out, catching me hard on the shoulder and breaking whatever peaceful moment we had been having.

"Ow! Damn it, Shepard," I grumbled, rubbing at the offended shoulder.

"Thanks for the talk, buddy," Shepard said smirking. I shot a fist out as well, hitting her on the arm closest to me.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. Her face looked surprised, but then that glint showed up in her eyes and I knew I was in trouble. Another fist flew and soon we were grappling on the floor, giggling like school children. Neither one of us could seem to get an advantage, and eventually we fell back to our places on the floor, out of breath and still laughing.

"Man I needed that," Shepard wheezed out, still clutching her ribs.

"Yeah you did. My mother always said that if you keep that serious face on for too long your mandibles will stick open and things will fly into the sides of your mouth," I said.

Shepard's face twisted with utter confusion, and I fell back laughing again.

"I guess it translates better in my language," I explained, finally standing. I brushed at my clothing and then offered a hand to Shepard to help her up.

We walked to the elevator and said our goodnights when it stopped on the main deck to let me off. The elevator continued to take Shepard up to her cabin while I headed for the airlock. With all of my clothes thoroughly ruined, I had even more of a reason to go shopping tonight on the Citadel. Hopefully, I'd be able to find everything I needed in one store so I could come back quickly. My bunk was calling my name, and tomorrow was a big day.

I do realize that the plot had slowed some in this (and the next) chapter, but the information was important. I have every intention of picking things back up again, so no worries! However, writing these characters in first person can get really challenging, so I'd love to talk about it with some of my readers. What are your opinions on how I have them written? Reviews and PM's welcome!