Crammed into the back of an armored truck, Garrus watched the wild Tuchankan landscape roll past the dust-streaked window. At dusk, it was a dismal view and after a while he looked away; peering past the bulk of two Urdnot warriors, he could see Shepard perched beside Grunt on the other side of the truck. The Commander was still flushed and bright-eyed, looking almost as high from their triumphant mission as the young krogan beside her. She caught him peeking at her and shot him a wide, unrepentant grin.
I guess taking down a thresher maw isn't exactly an everyday occurrence, even for Shepard.
Holding back a smirk, Garrus turned back to watch the ruined city grow quickly larger as they approached Wrex's camp. The convoy of trucks rolled through the creaking framework of the ruins, pulling up to a halt not far from where they'd first met Wrex. It was little more than a relatively flat patch of rubble, braced by the crumbling bones of old buildings, but it seemed to serve as the central courtyard for Wrex's clan.
As the vehicle's engine rumbled into silence, Garrus swung out behind Shepard. He saw her tense up as she hit the ground and his hand had gripped the edge of his rifle in reaction even before he spotted the half-dozen heavily armed krogan waiting nearby. They were the same krogan who'd been with Wrex earlier, and Garrus figured them for senior clan members; what he didn't know was their intentions. When Shepard remained alert but didn't draw, he forced his hand away from the rifle uneasily.
"What's going on?" Grunt demanded warily.
"Ease down, Shepard," rumbled a familiar voice, and the handful of krogan parted to let Wrex through. "Just a welcoming committee. Your tank born passed the test. The kid is Clan Urdnot now... if he wants to be."
The other Urdnot krogan didn't look entirely pleased at Grunt's success, but none of them moved to challenge Wrex. Garrus slanted a glance towards Shepard and found her studying their adolescent krogan thoughtfully.
"What happens if I do? Another ritual?" Grunt demanded scornfully. Behind the bravado, Garrus could read the young krogan's uncertainty, as well as his cautious interest.
"Nobody has killed a thresher maw since I had my go on the grounds," Wrex admitted, coming to a halt before them. "The clan will celebrate. The shaman has some words, but you've earned the night off."
With a pleased twitch of his mandibles, Garrus watched his young friend straighten proudly. Grunt had fought damn hard to earn his clan rights today. Beside him, Commander Shepard relaxed back onto her heels and smiled.
"Congratulations, Grunt," she said easily. "Go enjoy the party. In fact, Garrus and I might join you. Not like we can do much until tomorrow anyway."
As happy as he was for his friend, the idea of spending a night surrounded by a clan of partying krogans struck Vakarian as a really bad idea. "Shepard, are you sure about that?" he asked guardedly, glancing briefly towards the older clan members. There was no way of knowing whether Uvenk had any allies within the compound, or even if there were other krogans who'd object to offworlder involvement in krogan customs. Wrex had been clear enough that he was still establishing ties with neighbouring clans.
Grunt's face darkened. "Shepard is my krantt. If I stay, she stays," he announced flatly.
"Of course Shepard stays," Wrex agreed. "Wouldn't be a party without her. Don't worry, Vakarian. My people will watch over her."
"Shepard's human," he reminded them pointedly. "The radiation down here won't do her any favors." It was true. While a night on Tuchanka wouldn't harm him, Shepard didn't have his protective plating and he didn't think she'd want to sleep in her armor. But the truth was he didn't like the idea of giving anyone a further chance to take a shot at them.
Shepard intervened in the incipient squabble, laying a soothing hand on his forearm and squeezing lightly. "Relax, Garrus. I'll sleep in the Kodiak. You too." Glancing over at the waiting krogans, she grimaced apologetically. "Sorry Wrex, but your people have no love for turians, and I don't want any 'accidents' during the night."
Wrex shrugged off the implication. "Works for me. I'll send some of my best warriors to watch the shuttle tonight. C'mon, kid. Time to meet your new Clan."
Still uneasy, Garrus watched the two krogan move off to the waiting Urdnot warriors. "Shepard, you do realize that krogan celebrations can get a little... rowdy, right?" he asked. First there was the drinking, then the brawling. It had been bad enough when he worked C-Sec and could call in back up; trying to separate and restrain even a half dozen drunken krogans was enough of a challenge. Wrex had hundreds of them camped out here.
"It's not every day we get to be heroes, you know," Shepard pointed out.
"I heard that the anniversary of the Battle of the Citadel is coming up soon. Couldn't we go to that instead?"
Chuckling, she nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "Tonight's for Grunt. Wrex is right, he deserves it. He's the one that took the kill shot on that thing."
Garrus sighed in defeat. Talking Shepard out of something had never proven successful in the past. "Just promise me you won't drink the ryncol."
"Don't spoil all my fun, Vakarian."
Not surprisingly, Garrus found his prediction about krogan parties to be entirely accurate. Within an hour, a massive bonfire had been lit at the high point of the clearing and the numbers hit triple digits. What concerned him the most was that guests from other clans had joined in the festivities as well. Still uneasy after Uvenk's attack, Vakarian pinned himself firmly to Shepard's side. Mostly, they kept out of the way as 'friendly' arguments amongst the guests grew into random spouts of open brawling. When one erupted nearby, Shepard's pistol appeared in her hand instantly and Garrus realized she was perhaps even more on edge than he was.
Glancing from the weapon gripped tightly at her side, to the squabbling krogan a few feet away, Vakarian tilted his mandibles against the urge to smirk. "Didn't you say we were guests of honor?" he asked ironically, even as he let his own hand fall away from his sidearm.
Shepard flashed him a wry grin. Placing a hand firmly on his arm, she directed them away from the squabbling trio. "Old habits die hard," she admitted.
Following her with a low chuckle, Garrus scoped out their immediate surroundings. He was relieved to spot Grunt's familiar outline moving through the crowd. The young krogan was headed for the central bonfire, with the shaman at his side. "I don't think we have to wait much longer," he reassured her, gesturing towards their squad mate.
The Commander's relieved sigh was echoed with an anticipatory shout from other krogans who'd also noticed the two. As the celebrants pressed in closer, Garrus planted himself firmly behind Shepard's right shoulder and kept one hand close to his rifle. He knew he was looming aggressively, but he didn't care; his sharp gaze kept even the Urdnot krogan at a distance. It wasn't just Shepard he was worried about either. Turians weren't exactly welcome on Tuchanka these days.
"Poor kid looks like he might bolt," Shepard observed, watching Grunt shift about in a familiar, nervous fashion as he became the centre of attention.
Garrus considered the excitable mood of the crowd around them. "Hope he doesn't. It could start a riot."
When the shaman paused before the bonfire and raised his hands, the crowd's eager murmur fell into expectant silence. The old krogan spoke in what must have been an obscure local dialect, because there was a distinct lag before Garrus' translator identified it. He saw Shepard's equally puzzled expression fade into comprehension as the software kicked in midway through a sentence.
"...have passed the Rite of Passage, earning the honor of clan and name. Many survive, but it has been years since a thresher maw fell. Your names shall live in glory." The shaman lifted a hand and Grunt immediately dropped down to his knees. "Grunt, you are Urdnot. You may now own property, join the army, and apply to serve under a battlemaster."
"Shepard is my battlemaster," Grunt answered firmly. Garrus saw the ripple of surprise move through the crowd of krogans, and Grunt added defiantly, "she has no match."
Yeah. You said it, kid.
The shaman glanced in their direction and cleared his throat. "It is understood."
As they watched, the shaman drew forth a stained metal bowl, and dipped a thick finger into it. Grunt remained unmoving at the shaman's feet, which was unusual enough for the restless young krogan. Garrus started to suspect that Wrex had given the kid pointers on how to behave.
The Urdnot shaman slid his finger down over Grunt's brow, leaving a long, thick red streak behind. "We recognise you as blood of our blood, worthy of the honour of our name. We welcome you to our clan, Urdnot Grunt," he announced, and the crowd of krogans roared in welcome.
"Is that... blood?" Shepard hazarded over the rising shouts of the krogans around them.
Garrus triggered the zoom on his visor display and grunted softly. "Looks like. What do you think, krogan or varren?"
She shot him a wry look. "Not sure I want to know."
Garrus shifted closer to her, pressing one hand down lightly against her shoulder as the krogans cheered. The random shouting and yelling began to coalesce into a single word. He strained to make it out - no, not a word. A name.
"Grunt! Grunt! Grunt! Grunt!"
"I'd say the little fella found his family," Garrus drawled whimsically, leaning close enough that she could hear him.
To his surprise, Shepard reached a hand up to rest against his own, where it lay against her shoulder. The touch startled him, and for a moment, his attention narrowed down to the brief point of contact. Shepard's bio-feedback was a distant buzz against his visor display, as she squeezed his hand lightly before letting go. By the time Garrus tuned back into what was going on, the shaman was presenting a weapon to Grunt. Some sort of "welcome to the family" gift apparently, and that was it. End of ceremony. Garrus shook his head to clear it, and let Shepard pull him out of the way as the eager Urdnot clan surged forward to greet and welcome their new brother.
"Shepard!" Wrex's voice spilled over the ambient noise and they both turned to spot him approaching.
Shepard grinned. "Wrex."
"I should have known you could turn even a tank bred into a warrior worthy of my clan," he greeted gleefully.
"No objections from the rest of the Clan?" she asked curiously. Garrus had to admit, he was surprised by what their old friend had achieved so far. From what he knew of krogan inter-clan politics, he knew Wrex must be facing significant challenges. Accepting a tank-born would be a contentious decision, even for his own clan.
"Pah. I hardly even had to break any bones to get them to accept him," Wrex dismissed the concern with a smug grin. "They're stubborn bastards. But they're my stubborn bastards."
"And the ones that aren't?" The question came out sharper than Garrus intended, as he flashed back to Uvenk's features distorted in a furious scream, moments before he charged down on Shepard. He narrowed his gaze at Wrex intently. "How many assassination attempts have you had?"
"Too many to count. That's what made the last few years fun." Wrex's grin broadened briefly, before he turned to the Commander. "If you're still hunting salarians, Shepard, one of my scouts heard something you might be interested in. He's over by the south barricade. Name's Ralenk. I told him you might stop by."
Surprise flashed briefly over Shepard's face. Garrus knew she'd been expecting a lengthy search on Tuchanka; he'd agreed that sticking around longer than a week risked drawing Collector attention.
"Go check it out now," he suggested, nudging her shoulder lightly. "I'll bring Wrex up to speed on recent events."
Giving Wrex a farewell slap on the shoulder, Shepard flashed him a quick, grateful smile. "Catch you back at the shuttle, big guy."
He watched her lithe human figure vanish into the shadowed crowd of hulking krogans, and automatically triggered a battlefield program that would track her location. The reassuring pulse flashed at the edge of his vision, and Garrus rocked back on his heels. When he turned back to Wrex, he found his old friend smirking openly.
"So, Vakarian... what the hell happened to your face?"
By the time Garrus made it back to the Kodiak, he found Shepard already in the cockpit, leaning over the control panel. Hearing him enter, she straightened and turned to greet him.
"Hey, big guy. Did you manage to sweet talk Wrex into joining us?"
His mandibles tilted into a half-embarrassed smile, but he didn't bother to deny that he'd tried. "No. Turns out, he'd rather let rival clan leaders take pot shots at him," Garrus answered ruefully. "How'd it go with the scout?"
He hit the door controls, letting the Kodiak door swing closed and lock into place. In the sudden absence of distant krogan revelry, there was only the quiet hum of the shuttle's life support system. A bare step away, Shepard leaned against the door frame to the cockpit and gave a half-shrug.
"Better than I hoped. It sounds like Mordin's assistant has been taken by the Weyrloc Clan, who seem to have some kind of link to the Blood Pack. I called through to Joker and had him pass the word. Solus will join us at dawn."
Vakarian grimaced as he pulled his rifle free and cast a quick, assessing gaze along it. "Whatever the Blood Pack want with a salarian, it can't be good." Shepard's weapons were already laid out neatly on the row of unlatched seats, and he set his rifle down carefully beside them.
"Probably not. We'll find out tomorrow. You hungry?" the Commander asked, stepping past him and heading for the supply lockers at the back of the shuttle.
Neither of them had eaten since they'd left the Normandy, and in the hours since then they'd battled varren, klixen, enraged krogan and helped Grunt take down a thresher maw. Shepard was already rummaging in a locker which he knew contained both levo and dextro ration bars. Despite knowing how bland and entirely unappetizing they were, Garrus felt his stomach rumble insistently. "I'll take one."
As he stretched out a hand to catch the foil-wrapped bar, Vakarian directed a careful glance over the cramped interior of the Kodiak. Shepard had already latched up most of the rows of chairs against the wall, to leave enough floor space for the sleeping gear. They were lucky the Kodiak was stocked with emergency survival gear, but as he stared over the two thermal sleeping kits stretched across the floor, he realized tonight would be... cosy. Garrus shifted uneasily as he took a bite out of the ration bar. A short, bumpy ride through planetary atmosphere, to or from the Normandy, was one thing. But a night, alone with Shepard, in this tiny shuttle?
"Shepard, are you sure about staying down here tonight? I've seen your cabin, it's got to be more comfortable than this."
She blinked slowly as she chewed and swallowed a mouthful of levo ration bar. "You offering to help me test that theory?"
Garrus felt his face go slack with shock. "What... No, Shepard, I wasn't... I meant..."
Her low-pitched laughter stopped his stuttering denials. "Relax, Vakarian. All I want is one night off. The minute I hit the Normandy again, it'll be reports and maintenance requests, and Chambers wanting to have another catch up in my cabin to discuss crew psych profiles. I'm not even going to tell you how awkward the last one was."
When was the last time she had a night off? he wondered suddenly.
Before she died. It had to be. The Alliance had shipped her out straight after Sovereign's attack, eager to get her away from the media sensation she'd become. Immediately after her resurrection, Cerberus had sent her off on yet another mission to save the galaxy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Garrus vowed that he'd make sure she got some downtime next time they hit port. For now, a night on Tuchanka would have to do.
"Fine," he replied, keeping his voice deliberately light. "But I expect something a little better than a beaten-up shuttle on a radioactive pile of rubble for our next date."
The tension eased out of her, and Shepard met his gaze with gratitude. "Deal. And next time, I'll make sure I can offer you something better to eat than ration bars."
"In the meantime, I guess this isn't so bad," Garrus remarked, trying for casual. His stomach fluttered nervously, as he approached her slowly. There wasn't much space in the cramped cabin of the shuttle, and her eyes tracked him with interest as he shifted closer.
"That's true," Shepard agreed thoughtfully. "We've had worse. As far as I know, there aren't any geth nearby trying to kill us."
"Or husks, indoctrinated asari, parasitic plants, killer VIs..." If she'd been turian, the sub harmonics in his voice would have given him away. It was ridiculous for him to find the idea of being alone with her in a cramped, dirty, banged up shuttle on the most rundown planet in the galaxy somehow... appealing. Particularly since they were both still wearing armor, sweaty and grimy from the mission, and the Kodiak sure didn't have anything like a shower.
Her mouth quirked in that way he knew was Shepard trying not to laugh. "And as far as I know, the only tank-bred krogan in the neighbourhood is on our side. You're right, this isn't bad at all."
Garrus shifted his gaze over her face. He couldn't offer her a night in a high-class hotel room on the Citadel, not on a vigilantes salary; at this point, he couldn't even offer her a hot shower. But he could do something about the armor.
"Even if he is reeling at the moment. Good thing we don't need him tomorrow, Shepard. Krogan drinking games are pretty extreme." He curled his hand carefully around her upper arm, watching the quick indrawn breath that parted her lips.
"Poor Grunt. I hope Chakwas has something to help him with the hangover," she said, tilting her chin up to watch him intently.
Garrus slid his hand higher along her arm, towards her shoulder. Human armor was a little different to turian, but he found the break between ablative plates and his talon caught on the clasp easily. With one firm tug, the shoulder piece loosened and Shepard made a startled sound.
"You weren't planning on sleeping in this, were you?" Garrus asked, keeping his voice light and hoping like mad that she couldn't hear the nervousness in it.
Her eyes were wide, the central black dots somehow bigger and darker than usual. Slowly, Shepard shook her head.
It was clear permission for him to continue, and Garrus relaxed in relief. He couldn't remember ever doing this before, not even for a turian woman. His encounters had been wild and fast, both partners ripping armor free to get access to the bare plating below. Now he was careful to move slowly, laying each discarded piece neatly on the seats by their weapons.
"How are you feeling, Shepard?" he asked quietly. "You did head butt a krogan earlier today. And I saw you take a few hits from Uvenk's crew." As he spoke, Garrus directed his attention to the unfamiliar buckles and clasps. With the same meticulous precision he used when cleaning his guns, or calibrating the Thanix canon, he removed her armor, piece by careful piece.
Her mouth twitched as she watched him. "Only a few. But I didn't knock myself out, so I guess you won the bet. Good thing I already have a new set of armor waiting for you on the Normandy."
Garrus paused, blinking at her in surprise. "You do?"
"Mmm. I picked some up on Invictus," Shepard admitted. "I'll have Mordin bring it down in the morning and you can give it a trial run tomorrow."
Easing her out of the heavy chest and back armor, he laid the last pieces of ablative plating beside the rest of the dirt and blood splattered armor on the row of chairs. Garrus stepped back with a satisfied expression. "You didn't really have to pay up. I don't need new armor."
Shepard stood before him in the close-fitting black suit that she wore under her armor. With some concern, he realized that her pupils were still blown wide and dark, and recalled that distorted pupil size could be an indication of concussion in humans.
"You sure about that?" Shepard lifted a hand to rap her knuckles lightly against the chest piece of his own armor. "What are the chances I can talk you into letting me burn this set?" Her bare hand slid along the broken, ragged edge of his collar, and dipped in to curl dexterous, alien fingers around the clasp.
"Burn it... what?" Garrus stuttered in confusion as his commander began conscientiously pulling off his armor. She knew the fastenings well enough now that she had his chest plate off and was working on his left shoulder piece before he managed to catch up. "Shepard, are you sure you're not concussed? Your pupils are dilated."
She paused, tilting her head so those eyes with their blown-to-black pupils settled on him intently. "Oh, Vakarian. You have so much to learn about human biology." Her mouth was twitching into a smile he could only call devious, as Shepard leaned in closer. "That's also a sign that a human is very happy," she whispered wickedly into his ear and for a second, Garrus was almost certain he was having a heart attack.
His heart beat wildly against his ribcage, leaping in reckless thumps as he reared back to stare at her.
"Unless you want to sleep in your armor?" she teased gently, lifting a hand to press her palm against his injured mandible.
Garrus exhaled slowly, turning his head into that warm, many-fingered hand. "Gives me a hell of a crick in the neck when I do," he managed to answer, and felt the silent laughter vibrate through her body.
It didn't take long before the rest of the blackened and broken armour lay beside her own. Garrus stood before her in a dark under suit not unlike her own, peering uncertainly across the dim shuttle at her.
Shepard lifted her hand towards his visor, the only tech he still wore. "You know, that seems an unfair advantage," she teased quietly, but despite her words she made no move to take it off. He felt her finger trace lightly over the framework, and knew what she was looking at. The names of his team, the scratched-out name of Sidonis.
"How else will I keep up with the first human Spectre?" Garrus watched the feedback scrolling past the visor in fascination. He could see the quickened heartbeat, the flashes of muscle tension as her hand traced hesitantly over the visor, and the slight jump in her breathing. It wasn't new data; his visor had always fed through this sort of information even when the battlefield programs weren't activated. But her explanation of dilated pupils in a human had him wondering what else he was missing, even with all the intel right in front of him.
"You're doing just fine, Vakarian."
The smile playing about her mouth was familiar to him; it was the one that said she had trouble in mind. When her hand shifted downwards from the visor frame, and delicate fingers ran lightly over his cheek, Garrus had no hope of containing the shiver that rolled over him. Shepard stood on tiptoe, bringing her face closer to his. Her hands dropped from his face, but her breath ... He could feel the soft gust of air against his face, and couldn't hide the second shiver.
"Does it hurt?" she asked softly. Her mouth was a hair's breadth from the wounded right mandible, and he didn't have to ask what she meant.
Garrus shook his head fractionally. "N-no," he managed, and cleared his throat. "It doesn't hurt anymore." Nothing he couldn't live with, anyway.
He could feel her lips against his cheek now, felt them turn upwards and knew she was smiling. "Good."
Shepard's voice was calm, but he could feel an answering tremble in her slender frame. She moved again, soft lips and warm breath and oh damn, the wet heat of her tongue sliding along the length of the injured mandible - was she trying to kill him?
Garrus let out a strangled sound, his heart pounding against his ribs. He fumbled awkwardly, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her sharply off him. "She-pard," he managed brokenly, and damn her, she was smirking up at him with wicked delight sparkling in her eyes. "Never knew you were so dangerous without a gun," he muttered, drawing in a deep breath as he fought to calm his heartbeat.
Shepard grinned up at him. "Turians don't do anything like this, huh?"
He exhaled shakily. "Not... quite... like this," he admitted, relaxing his grip on her arms.
"Guess there's something my species can teach yours, after all." She stretched up onto her toes again, and he felt the sweet warmth of her mouth press briefly against his injured mandible.
This is kissing. I can definitely see what all the fuss is about.
More than a few turians he'd worked with in C-Sec had taken up with asari, but Garrus had never seen the appeal. Now, closing his hands around Shepard's sleek, curving hips, Vakarian got it. The firm muscles he could feel under his hands were like nothing he was used to; she lay a mouth devoid of mandibles and wicked-sharp teeth against his mouth and he shuddered under the new sensations.
"This is definitely better than my last camping trip," he heard her murmur in satisfaction. It slid through the haze of her touch, and Garrus blinked until the world came back into focus.
"Camping trip?"
Her laughter filled the shuttle, incredulous and fond. "Don't turians go camping? Just take off into the wilderness and rough it for a few days?"
"Oh." Vakarian nodded in understanding. "Sure. Dad used to take my sister and I out for survival training all the time."
Pulling back, Shepard eyed him sceptically. "Not quite the same thing. Back on Mindoir, we'd hitch a tent a few miles out from the colony and spend a couple days doing as little as possible. Camping is meant to be relaxing, Garrus."
He considered that briefly, fully aware that this was the first time he'd heard her mention Mindoir voluntarily. Ever. The only reason he even knew about her past was because it was in her public files. "I guess that's another thing you can teach me," Garrus answered, deciding not to call attention to it.
It brought an affectionate smile to her lips. Shepard dropped back onto her heels, touching his face gently. "Deal. One day, after we save the galaxy again, you and I will take off for the most remote place we can find and I'll teach you the fine art of doing absolutely nothing."
Privately, Garrus thought if Shepard had to sit still for more than a day, she'd go berserk and start shooting the place up for the hell of it. But then his brain kicked in, and he realised she was making plans for them. His eyes widened, because even though there was no suggestion she had anything romantic in mind, it was still... promising. "Sounds good," he managed to get out around a throat gone dry from nerves.
Her smile altered fractionally. "C'mon," she said, nudging him lightly. "It's been a long day, and we have an early start. I need my best sniper rested for tomorrow's mission."
"Your only sniper, Shepard," he pointed out.
She answered him with a grin, dropping to her knees to unzip her sleeping kit. Garrus paused long enough to kill the dim overhead lights, before he joined her. His visor's night vision outlined Shepard clearly as she lay down beside him. Hesitating briefly, Garrus removed the visor and lay it down carefully nearby.
"I wondered if you slept with that thing," Shepard's voice came from the darkness.
He chuckled, settling the thermal blanket across his chest and lying back. "Funny, Shepard. By the way, Wrex has a truck we can borrow in the morning. He's agreed to let us use it as long as I drive."
"What?!" The outrage was vivid in her voice, and Garrus chuckled.
"His planet, his rules, Shepard." Actually, what Wrex had said was 'don't let Shepard get behind the wheel. We don't have the spare parts to fix what she'd do to it.' But sometimes, a bit of discretion came in handy.
"I'll remind him of that next time he wants a favor," Shepard grumbled.
He felt his mandibles lift into a smile. She was skilled in many areas, but she refused to admit that her driving ability left a little something to be desired. Soothingly, he stretched out a hand and brushed her fingers lightly. They were both lying on their backs, but the cramped cabin meant that there was barely any space between them. Over the low hum of the Kodiak's life support system, he heard her sigh quietly, and her hand curled warmly into his.
"Night, Garrus," she said softly.
Closing his hand around hers, he squeezed lightly in response. The soft whisper of her breathing and the warmth of her hand against his filled his awareness.
Vakarian lay there in the dark, staring peacefully up at the ceiling of the Kodiak, until he heard Shepard's breathing settle into the steady rhythm of sleep. When her hand relaxed in his, he exhaled softly.
"Sweet dreams, Shepard," he murmured into the darkness. Then closed his eyes and slept.