Chapter 8

Garrus had just finished settling in. His few possessions that Shepard's crew had salvaged from Omega (a spare set of armor, three assault rifles, a sniper rifle, some underclothes, and one barely-worn set of casuals) had been returned to him by a woman who introduced herself as Kelly Chambers, and he'd settled into the main battery. He'd finally gotten a look in a mirror, and sighed at the amount of damage. His right mandible was mostly gone, and the half-healed wounds would definitely leave a lot of scarring. After repainting his clan markings which had been smudged off, or maybe removed by Chakwas, he sat down at the main gun to examine the new weapons system.

He'd only been calibrating for a few minutes when Kelly Chambers came over his comm to regretfully ask him to pack his belongings and vacate the Normandy at the next docking. Commander's orders.

For a moment, he was stunned. Then a low growl rose from his throat and he slammed his fist on the console in front of him, whirling around and storming out of the main battery. How dare she pick him up and save his life just to rob him of the chance to help stop the Reapers? This was exactly like when she'd taken over his investigation of Saren. Once again she was too stubborn to work with him, even with countless human colonies at stake, because of a petty grudge.

"Come out and say it to my face!" he fumed, pounding on the cabin door.

It flew open, and Shepard met his furious glare with a level gaze. "Say what? That you're useless and I want you off my ship? Well, you are. And nothing would make me happier."

"Tell me you hate me. I want to hear you say it."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You had more than one chance to kill me," Garrus snarled. "You could have left me on Omega, and don't say it was Miranda, because you could have stopped her. Say you hate me and I'll leave, but we both know it's not true."

She paused, still staring back at him, before an ironic smile split her face. "No, Bird, I don't hate you. I just like to ruffle your feathers."

Something inside him snapped, and he shoved her backward into the wall, pressing one sharp finger into the soft flesh of her throat.

"You have been nothing but a pain in my ass since I met you," he murmured, his eyes cold with rage. "Give me a good reason not to kill you right now."

Shepard laughed and shoved him back, smirking, "Because that would be lousy foreplay."

Was everything a joke to her? Or was she so naïve to think he wouldn't cut her throat?

"You know, I like to be in charge," she continued, ignoring his threatening stance, and moving close enough to run a finger slowly down the front of his armor. "But for some reason, this is totally working for me. Maybe it's because you look tougher all roughed-up around the edges—" she eyed the right side of his face pointedly, "— or maybe it's the little show of dominance. I really do love getting under your skin.

He grabbed her wrist tightly. "Don't think for a moment that you have any sort of control over me."

She grinned and pressed her body to his, fiddling with the latches on his armor. "See? You're so different now from that little boy playing cop and robbers on the Citadel. All this fighting has changed you, made you cold like me."

"Don't ever compare yourself to me, you desperate harpy," he muttered, releasing her wrist with disdain. As he turned to leave, he was pleased to see a look of irritation and surprise cross her features. He opened the door.

"HEY!"

He looked back, and she tugged her shirt off, throwing it to the ground at his feet. "Don't pretend you don't want me, because I'm not going to beg you."

His gaze raked over her lean torso, her breasts – rising and falling with her rapid breathing – and the defiant glare on her face, before settling at the white bandaging on her right shoulder.

Garrus frowned and stepped closer to her, and she crossed her arms triumphantly, raising one eyebrow. "That's what I thought."

Before Shepard could react, he reached forward and tugged the bandage off, revealing the circular, red gouge in her pale skin.

"When did you get shot?"

"Omega," she replied, her brow furrowed.

He stared at her. Since when did Shepard ever get hurt? A sinking suspicion was growing in him. She couldn't possibly care about him, could she?

"And who dragged me into cover after the gunship shot me?"

She hesitated. "Miranda was –"

"Bullshit," he growled. "You took a hit to save my ass."

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never—"

"Shut the fuck up. This is how you show affection? By playing games and manipulating the people around you?"

"Affection?" she repeated blankly.

He shook his head, walking out of the still open door. "You repulse me more by the minute."

He let the door slam behind him.

(A/N): It's short, but this was my ideal stopping place. Thanks to my awesome reviewers! Your feedback has been outstanding, and I'm definitely considering some of the suggestions.