The door of the main gun battery hissed as the pressure sensors responded to the weight of Shepard's footfalls, sliding open easily to allow her access. As soon as they did, the smooth, honeyed sound of a familiar voice wafted out, filling what had once been empty space surrounding her with a warm, buzzing baritone. Garrus never raised his voice when he spoke; he never had to. The soothing, authoritarian quality of his tone was so naturally rich that he could garner and hold the attention of every person in a room just by clearing his throat once. Still, though she could not yet make out what was being said or what the conversation was about, she could tell by the sheer quality of his voice that it was more than likely something having to do with the war.

Standing there in the doorway of the gun battery, listening to the voice she was so used to being carefree and sarcastic speaking in hushed tones about strategies of war, it suddenly dawned on Shepard, almost as if for the first time, just how many of the people she cared about were actually involved in this atrocity, and for a moment she could not help but feel the inexplicable urge to wrap herself up in Garrus' voice like a comforting blanket and forget about the world for a while. But, like everyone else in this war, she had a role to play, and her role was too important to abandon for the sake of impulsive sentimentality. Inching closer towards where Garrus stood, she watched from a short distance as he worked, conversing with an unknown person over a headset so as to leave his hands free to tinker with the Normandy's gun controls.

"Two of our dreadnaughts have been lost in a matter of hours," Garrus' contact reported over the headset, loud enough for Shepard to hear the words and easily identify the voice as belonging to Primarch Victus. She supposed Garrus had turned the volume of the headset way up so he would be able to hear it over the symphony of noises emanating from the ordnance, though they did not seem to be that loud to her – however, she supposed that being in closer proximity to them, as Garrus was, probably made a significant difference in the noise level, so she said nothing, continuing to stand to the side in silence, allowing the two to continue their conversation uninterrupted.

"I know, Primarch," Garrus answered, giving a soft sigh of acknowledgement as he turned, glancing over towards the screen built into the side of the artillery unit. Catching a glimpse of something dark out of the corner of his eye, he looked up, spotting Shepard, and for a short moment he hesitated, seeming a bit surprised, before returning to his work, unruffled. "I'm seeing the same numbers, myself," he reported, still talking to the Primarch over the headset. "They don't look good."

"We have to turn this around, and fast," Victus told him, sounding grim, and Shepard could almost envision the look on his painted face as he said it. The Primarch was no easy turian to work with, but if anyone could navigate the ins and outs of his caustic personality to figure out how best to talk to him, she figured it would probably be Garrus.

"Well, you can trust Shepard, Sir," Garrus assured him, looking up at Shepard again, this time offering her a private, reassuring little smile. "If anybody can get the krogan to cooperate, it's her. She's an old friend of Urdnot Wrex."

"Let's just hope friendship still counts for something in this war," Victus muttered, to which Garrus gave a little frown, but, undeterred, he quickly recovered with a reassuring bob of his head, wordlessly letting Shepard know that, even if the Primarch had his own pessimistic doubts, Garrus' faith was still in her entirely.

"I'm sure it will, Sir," he told the Primarch. Then, lifting the headset up off his crest, he set it aside, turning to face Shepard, who by now had made her way down the stairs and into the lower belly of the battery, feeling the gratework floor vibrating a little under her feet from the lively thrum of the machines.

"Garrus!" she greeted him, smiling amicably as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her warm, oversized jacket. "Didn't waste any time getting to work, I see."

"After what I've been through lately, calibrating a giant gun is a vacation," Garrus answered truthfully, turning his attention back to the machinery in front of him and picking up his tool once more. "Gives me something to focus on."

"We're gonna need you for more than your aim," Shepard told him, a more serious note entering her voice, though this one was more of worry, and less of sheer obligation. She almost felt guilty asking for his help on the Normandy – after all he had done for her, and all the two of them had been through together, she almost felt as if the work were beneath him. Still, he did it well, and he claimed to enjoy what he was doing when he worked on the guns, so she figured that as long as he kept telling her he was happy, she would keep blindly believing him.

"Oh, I'm ready for it," Garrus replied, stepping away from the panel and cocking one hip as he allowed Shepard his entire, undivided focus. "But I'm pretty sure we'll need giant guns – and lots of them."

"Can't argue with that," Shepard answered, shrugging her shoulders.

Garrus smirked in agreement, the gesture seeming almost uncomfortable. Then, shifting his weight uneasily between his heavy feet, he took a few uncertain steps forward, towards Shepard, closing the distance between them, his mandibles giving a few, uneasy jumps as he did so, conveying troubled thoughts that he could not quite figure out how to put into words. "Yeah," he finally said, dragging out the sound awkwardly as he tried to think of how to say what he wanted to come after it. "So… is this the part where we… shake hands? I wasn't sure about the protocol on reunions, or if you even still felt the same way about me." He paused a moment, thoughtful, and then lifted a hand to his face, his clawed fingers trailing across the roadmap of twisted, healed burns that charted the side of his face, and it was all Shepard could do not to reach out a hand and touch them with him.

"The scars are starting to fade," he commented, before lowering his voice seductively to add, "I remember they drove you wild." Shepard gave a soft, girlish breath of a laugh, saying nothing to exacerbate his silly behaviour, but at the same time making sure she did not do anything to put him off. She liked the attention he was giving her, liked his silly flirtations – and with everything that was on her mind at the moment, all the war, the politics, and the hardship, she felt a little bit of silly romantic distraction was well-deserved. "But I can go out and get all-new ones, if it will help," he added, pulling her back to reality.

"I haven't forgotten our time together," she assured him, offering him a sincere, almost coquettish smile.

Seeing this gesture of approval, Garrus tilted his head faintly, taking another eager step forward towards Shepard, and then another. "Well," he said, sounding significantly more self-assured, taking one last step before coming to stand barely inches away from her, standing tall over her. "I've been doing some more research on human customs. I didn't want to presume—" But he did not even get to the end of his sentence before Shepard shifted herself upward onto her toes, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his jagged mouth and effectively silencing his rambling speech. Settling back onto the balls of her feet, she smiled up at him, trying to hide the look of amusement at the expression on his face. Had it been possible for turians to blush, she knew he would have been blushing hard then, and she supposed he only had his genealogy to thank for sparing him the extra, adorable embarrassment.

"That's the protocol on reunions," she told him, her voice low and intimate. Then, reaching up a hand, she stroked the side of his face, the pad of her thumb sliding along the solid line of his mandible, her fingertips caressing his strong cheekbone, and Garrus gave a light, faintly embarrassed breath of a laugh, bowing his head ever so slightly into her touch.

"The vids mentioned it might go something like that," he admitted, his tone cool and forcibly dismissive as ever, but she could still hear the relieved awkwardness in his layered voice. "I had hoped it would – I mean, I didn't… know…"

Reaching forward, Shepard took his hands in her own, silencing him again as she looked down at their entwined forms, noting the scuffs and scarring that had worn down the exterior of his form-fitting gauntlets. "I can't promise how things will work out," she admitted, frank, though her voice still held the same low, tender tone of before. "Not with this war." Then, looking up into his face, she met his bright, avian blue gaze with her own sharp green one, and offered him a hopeful smile, countering the solemnness of before. "I missed you, Garrus," she told him. "I thought about you a lot."

"Glad to know my romantic, er, skills made an impression," Garrus answered, playing thoughtfully with her hands in his and purposefully ignoring the comment about their relationship not surviving the war. "Because it's going to take more than Reapers to come between this cross-species liaison."

Shepard gave another soft, fond chuckle, before finally retrieving her hands from his grasp. Garrus seemed disappointed for a moment, but said nothing, instead letting his hands fall respectfully back to his sides as she spoke. "Speaking of which, you said you're the expert advisor on Reapers now?" Shepard asked, arching one dark, sculpted brow, and at this, Garrus gave an uncomfortable grunt, taking a step back from Shepard as the romantic moment came to an abrupt halt.

"It's not as impressive as it sounds," he answered, his tone oddly dismissive, as if he was not quite comfortable talking about the whole arrangement just yet. "I ruffled some feathers, so they gave me a token title along with a token task force so I'd shut up." Turning away from her, he made his way towards a panel of lit-up switches on the wall of the battery, turning his full attention to them as if in an effort to distract Shepard from the conversation at hand, but Shepard merely smiled, amused by his somewhat endearing discomfort.

"How'd you manage that?" she asked, propping a hand on her hip with a playful smirk.

"Just followed your example, Shepard," Garrus answered honestly, shrugging one broad, armoured shoulder. "Yell loud enough and eventually somebody will come over to see what all the fuss is about." He paused, thoughtful, before giving a faint, dismissive toss of his fringed head. "Not that they'll do anything about it," he added, something almost bitter in his tone. Shepard knew all too well where that bitterness was coming from; she had felt it often enough, herself, but she also knew that if they were going to win this war, they would have to put their feelings of bitterness behind them for the good of the galaxy. A government slow to respond was better than one that never responded at all.

"Until hell shows up at their door," she added half-jokingly, giving a quick, indicative toss of her head. "Then they put you in charge."

Garrus laughed, the sound a hard, monosyllabic scoff, before giving an agreeing bob of his head and turning away from the panel of switches, starting back towards the main gunnery computer. "Not like the old days, is it?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder towards Shepard as he walked. "Rogue Spectre and C-Sec agent running and gunning outside the lines, making it up as we went along… we're actually respectable now." Rounding on the main computer, he tapped it a few times with one clawed finger, and instantly the translucent orange screen sprang to life, coded waves scrolling down the display faster than Shepard could make sense of them, but she supposed that was why Garrus was in charge of these functions, and not her.

"Yeah," Shepard agreed, moving up beside him at the controls and looking over the lines of text and symbols, only half of which she could identify. "I get the feeling that respect comes with a lot of sleepless nights." She fell silent, thoughtfully watching the lines of text roll down the computer screen until they finally slowed to their normal crawl. Then, looking up from the console, she turned, allowing her gaze to rest on the turian beside her once more. "I can't even count how many lives are counting on us, Garrus," she told him, her voice soft but grave.

Garrus was silent for a long moment, considering this, his mandibles moving in a slow, thoughtful tattoo against his pointed chin. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned, meeting Shepard's eyes and locking his gaze with hers, holding her stare. "Well," he said. "When things are looking grim – and I'm pretty sure they will – just remember…" He leaned in to her ear then, rustling her hair with his soft breath, and she could barely keep a fond hint of a smile from reaching her rouge lips. "We're in this together," he finished. He paused another moment, allowing the sentiment to sink in, before leaning back again, the corners of his jagged mouth suddenly sliding upwards into a puckish grin.

"And if it ends with both of us dying in a giant explosion taking out a Reaper," he added, turning away from her towards the computer console again, "remember I took the killshot." Then, leaning down to the touchscreen again, he focused in on it, thinking their conversation to be over. Under normal circumstances, Shepard knew that this would have constituted a cue for her to leave – whenever Garrus got caught up in his calibrations, trying to pull him away from them was usually a futile endeavour – but right now, she found herself not wanting to leave his company. She knew that standing there staring at him was not going to help him or anyone else get anything done, but she found that right now, she could not care less. She just wanted to look at him for a while, to admire the way the light from the consoles glinted off his crest, or the way the cast shadows of the battery played in his scars like some sort of sensual forecourt.

He really was a handsome turian, a fact she knew drove her mother crazy. It was not that Hannah had anything against turians, or any sort of aliens for that matter – it was that she could not quite wrap her head around the fact that her daughter found them to be actually more attractive than humans. Feeling Shepard's eyes on him then, Garrus lifted his head, glancing over towards her, and the plates of his brow drew together ever so slightly, his cat-like mouth forming a faint 'o' of surprise as he looked at her, countering her stare.

"Something else you want to talk about?" he asked, curious.

Finding herself pulled back into the moment, Shepard shook her head, realizing that she had all but zoned out before, lost in her thoughts. "No," she answered quickly. "That's all, for now." She paused, thoughtful, before taking a step towards him and adding with an almost playful sensuality, "At least, about the war. We've still got some… personal catching up to do."

"Well, you know where to find me," Garrus told her. "And this time – I got hold of the good stuff." Bending down at his console, he reached underneath it, dragging out a small box, from which he pulled a flashy blue bottle of liquor. Then, standing back to his full height, he let the bottle rest between his hands, showing it off as he took a mirroring step forward to meet her. "There are a few perks to being an expert Reaper advisor," he grinned.

Shepard smirked, reaching forward and hooking her first two fingers into the edge of his armour before pulling him forward, urging his face down to her level. "Deal," she murmured in his hear, before giving him a teasing kiss on the cheek. Then, letting her wandering fingers trail downward, she took his hand in hers, pulling him away from the gunnery controls, slowly at first, tempting him, and then more fervently as they neared the battery doors. Garrus could barely keep a knowing grin from overtaking his features as he allowed her to lead him onward, all but forgetting about his calibrations as the promise of personal catch-up time with the Commander drew ever more imminent.

Shepard's cabin was much barer than either of them remembered it being, but neither spared much thought to fret about it as the doors slid closed behind them with a knowing hiss. Shepard could hardly keep her mouth away from his as their fingers scrambled to blindly remove the armour that was now the only thing still standing between them. Her fingers deftly unlatched the clasp of his breast-plate, and with his help the hefty piece of armour was soon off his body and on the floor of her quarters. The bowl-like neckpiece was next to go, lifted up over his head and laid aside with the breastplate, and after that, the rest of the armour was quick to follow, until his heavy blue panoply lay in a discarded pile at the foot of her bed. Her casualwear soon joined it, their clothing a jumbled mess of boots, greaves and gauntlets that was quickly forgotten as she pressed him down onto the thin, military-issue bunk mattress, one strong leg sliding over his shape as she straddled him, a soft gasp of a giggle leaving her throat as she felt his hands on her hips, the rough, calloused texture of his fingers so alien, yet so exciting.

The soft scrape of his claws against her tender flesh was electrifying as she stretched her long, slender form over his, running her hands over every inch of his body and feeling as he did the same to her, his hands gliding up the length of her torso, tickling her ribcage as he worked to unclasp her bra before peeling it away from her pale, perky breasts. It never failed to amaze her how adept he was at that, despite having only three fingers to work with, where most men with five fingers to aid them often found the task unfathomably daunting. She gave a soft, approving moan of pleasure as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waist of her panties, his claws leaving faint, raised lines of pink against her freckled skin as the dragged down her slender thighs, before another, louder moan left her as he tilted his head forward, his tapered tongue playing eagerly down the slit of her genitals.

Shepard slid forward, pushing herself along the rutted ridges of his chest-plates until her knees pressed down against the bedding at either side of his bony collar, her legs spread wide to accommodate the extra breadth of the appendage. Of reach and flexibility, the latter was her stronger suit—and with his long limps and agile tongue, she was only too happy to let him take the title of the first. His hands slid over the flesh of her strong, smooth thighs as he worked into the split of her legs, and Shepard reached down a hand, her fingers splaying as they came to rest on top of his head, moving with him as he worked, feeling the gentle rocking motion as he pressed against her, his serrated teeth scraped tenderly across the tender pink flesh, leaving a pricking, tingling sensation as they went.

"Yes…" she moaned, feeling her back arch with pleasure at the sensation. "Yes…" To some, the feeling of a turian mouth in their nether regions, of his teeth pricking at the sensitive skin, of his mandibles quivering and jerking against the edges of her pudenda, might have been offputting, but to Shepard, it was downright euphoric, and every time felt like a delicacy – no vibrator in existence could replicate the feeling of so much going on down there. Once finished, Garrus lifted one of her legs up over his head, allowing both to slide smoothly off to one side as he pulled himself up the bed towards her, his mouth and sharp chin glittering with her residue. Shepard lifted a hand, pressing it to his wet mouth, before sliding it from there down the length of his throat, an eager shudder running down her spine at the softness of his skin.

The sleek reptilian texture was like the smoothness of a snake's scales after a fresh shed, the flesh of his neck thin and folded into itself like the gullet of a monitor lizard, and the threaded membranes pulsed excitedly under her touch. Leaving the sensation of his throat momentarily, her fingertips trailed over the ridge of his collar, making their way up the slope of the hard, bony orifice as it curved around his neck, coming to a rise at his back, until she found her hands behind his head. The fingers of one hand played against the tough, spiny tips of his crest, while the palm of the other caressed the warm, jagged line of overlapping scales that trailed down his neck before disappearing into the hollow of his collar.

Turian physiology was not at all the same as human's, a fact that never ceased to fascinate Shepard. On other species, she had found there to be an almost disappointing measure of similarity between their physiology and her own, making it less than adventurous to explore one another's bodies – Thane, especially, had been so disappointingly human once his clothes had been removed that she had almost lost her will to follow through. Turian physiology, on the other hand, she found utterly fascinating. Garrus' hips sloped out smoothly from his sides like saddle horns, perfect for gripping onto, the rough, plated surface of his groin and hips taut against the hard pelvic bone, and where she would usually find an exposed set of genitals on a human companion, he had a layered slit embedded into his sleek, bony pelvic region.

Though at first this intimate feature had looked startlingly similar to a human vulva, upon closer inspection, she had come to realize that it actually looked more like the folds of a set of human vocal cords, and much like the flaps of human vocal cords, the halves of the slit would open to admit the actual appendage to expose itself when the turian became aroused. This unusual evolutionary facet was a necessary precaution, she supposed, as the exterior of the turian member seemed to have only a very thin protective layer covering the muscles and veins, and so was more than likely extremely sensitive. Still, that never seemed to have stopped Garrus from being just as enthusiastic and effective a lover as any other, a fact which never ceased to surprise and thrill Shepard.

Now, the prepuce of his groin folded back as the internalized member pushed through, like the stamen of a flower, urged to attention with a sudden flow of blood, the blue veins pulsing against the tender, exposed flesh of the appendage. Tucking her hair out of the way behind one ear, Shepard leaned down, allowing the tip of her tongue to skate gently over the fragile membrane, feeling the veins under the thin skin give an excited throb at her touch. Then, gripping the sturdy frame of his hips, she closed her soft lips around the flesh of his adjunct, allowing her eyes to close as she began to gently slide her mouth up and down the length of the tapered, veiny shaft, feeling it pulse with excitement every time she moved.

Garrus moaned in delighted euphoria as she worked, his clawed hands twisting into the sheets of her bed, threatening to rip them. When her teeth gently scraped against the thin membrane of his filament, he gave a pained gasp, and one hand instantly moved to her head, his claws curling into her choppy red hair, moving with her as she moved. Realizing her error, Shepard moved more carefully against the delicate flesh, and she could feel his strong, plated thighs shudder with frenzy as she worked, assuring her that she was doing something right. Garrus gasped, leaning his head back against the headboard of the bed, the ridges of his crest scraping the plexiglass, threatening to leave a mark, but neither of them even seemed to notice. His grip on her hair tightened, and he gave a sharp, hiccupping moan as he opened his avian blue eyes, looking down at her and breathing heavily.

"Shepard," he warned.

Letting her tongue trail one final time up the length of his shaft, Shepard obeyed the unspoken warning, leaning back from his groin and lifting a hand to wipe her mouth. Mordin had warned them about the danger of ingesting, and thus far, even in the heat of passion, the two had done a commendable job of following his instructions, not wanting to test the consequences should they fail to comply. Pulling her way up his scaly and plated body, Shepard pressed her lips to his jagged mouth, kissing him, feeling the sensation of his pointed, bird-like tongue in her mouth, the way his mandibles pressed against her cheeks. The feeling of his mouth against hers was foreign and exciting, and she took the opportunity to run her tongue along the serrated line of his pointed teeth, her body giving a faint shudder at the sensation of danger it filled her with.

Giving a faint, urging push against her waist then, Garrus shifted his weight, rolling Shepard over onto her back and perching himself over her, his bright blue eyes taking in her strong, slender form with a familiar hunger. His rough, clawed hands slid up her thighs, parting them, before allowing each index to skate up the line of her pelvic bone, gliding over her hips before taking a firm, controlling grip on her waist, the pads of his thumbs pressing into her skin as she opened her legs, arching her back ever so faintly, exposing the soft flesh of her throat as she leaned her head back into her pillow, allowing her green eyes to flutter closed as she waited for the moment of penetration, and when it did come, she let out a sharp, animalistic noise of pleasure, halfway between a gasp and a shout.

Reaching back, she gripped her plexiglass headboard, securing herself in place as he heaved against her, inside her, and she moaned with pleasure as his mandibles rubbed up against the skin of her collar-bone, his lithe lips peppering soft, alien kisses across the line of her breast, his sharp teeth scraping the surface of her skin every so often, leaving tiny, faint scratches against her flesh that stung with her salty sweat, but the pain felt good, letting her know that she was alive. Shepard gasped as Garrus pushed inside her again and again, her fingers curling around the headboard of her bed, her physique tensing up before releasing with a licentious shudder. It did not take long for her muscles to start to become sore, but it was a good burn, the sort of pain that let her know that what she was doing was worth it, and she said nothing, instead allowing him to continue in the same way.

His hands gripped her hips, his claws digging into her skin, threatening to pierce the surface, and she gave another light, excited exclamation as he pushed inside her again, her heavy breathing in duet with his, his breath hot against her neck, against her cheek, his grunts of effort and pleasure in her ear causing her heart to race. "Garrus," she gasped, taking her hands from the headboard to slide them around his neck, the tendons of her hands flexed in ecstasy as she laced her fingers between the spines of his crest, her opposite hand gripping the bony rise of his collar as he gave another shuddering heave, causing her toes to curl into the covers of the bed in a fevered passion. His hands left her hips gripping the sheets of the bed, his claws puncturing through the soft fabric of the covers as he gave another thrust, this time accompanied by a shout of pleasure from Shepard as she threw back her head, her red hair plastered to her sweaty, freckled face.

"It's a good thing you aren't working for Cerberus anymore," Garrus joked, panting, as he gave another solid thrust inside of her. "Otherwise I might worry that we were being watched right now."

"Shut up and fuck me," Shepard breathed, only half-annoyed by his attempt at coitus humour. He always did this, and while it may have killed the mood the first time, she had grown used to corny attempts at making her laugh in the middle of sex. She could never really tell whether his dumb jokes actually helped or hindered her achievement of orgasm – although she had to admit that there had been no shortage of attempts to figure it out.

Garrus pushed inside her again, seeming only too happy to comply with her rather curt order. It was nothing out of the ordinary for the two to talk to one another this way—it was the way they joked, and as far as he was concerned, he would not have it any other way. He made her laugh, and she did the same, and that was all he ever really wanted out of life, apart from the mind-blowing sex, which seemed to come in the package deal with the wry sense of humour. No matter how amazing the sex was, however, both Garrus and Shepard were only too thankful that the foundations of Shepard's cabin sound-proofed it from the rest of the ship. That meant that no matter how loud and investigational they decided to get during their sessions, none of the other crew members had to know about it, which happily spared them the painfully knowing glances they would have undoubtedly gotten otherwise.

In order to hear their lovemaking, a member of the crew would have to be standing right outside the door of the cabin – which they figured, all things considered, was as good a deterrent as any to any do-gooders trying to deliver messages of war to the Commander when she was in her quarters and therefore clearly off the clock.

The bed rocked and creaked on its foundation, the plexiglass headboard thudding against the muted metal wall of the cabin as it made contact again and again in a frenzied, passioned pattern, and Shepard gave another exclamation of pleasure in time with it, feeling a gentle flourish of bruises begin to prickle across her back as the line of her shoulders beat against the headboard over and over in a passionate, almost hypnotic rhythm. Garrus never hurt her on purpose, not when he could help it – despite the severity of his species, and despite her best efforts to convince him otherwise, Garrus was a surprisingly gentle lover. Though he sometimes left raised white and pink lines on her skin from the use of his claws, he never broke it, and though he had been known to bite her sensually, he had never drawn blood. The extent of the severity of his zeal was bruising, often very faint, and even that took a good deal of passion and a fair amount of convincing from Shepard to accomplish.

She enjoyed getting rough in the bedroom – hair-pulling, biting, scratching, it was all fair game to her, but to Garrus, it felt almost like savagery, a fact which Shepard respected, albeit with a bit of halfheartedly-hidden disappointment.

Garrus grunted, leaning forward on his elbows as he pushed inside of her, rhythmic. Then, letting out a brusque huff of a chuckle, he pressed his nose to the side of her sweaty face, all but burying it in her hair as he spoke into her ear, low and short. "Almost time to stop," he told her. "Payload's…" He gave another grunt, this time bowing his head forward, pressing his face into the pillow beside her as he gave another thrust, this one slower than the last, feeling his body tense and shudder as he sought to hold everything in, but Shepard shook her head, wetting her lips as she did so, tasting the salty sweat as it beaded across her painted lips.

"No," she panted, reaching up a hand to run in back across the rough ridges of his crest, her hand coming to rest on the plated back of his neck as she rocked with him, letting his strong form move her. "Don't stop. Don't stop."

"Shepard," Garrus warned, giving another thrust, this one feeling almost forced.

"No, it's okay," Shepard answered, her breath leaving her in hard, sweaty gasps. "It's okay, I… I want you to do it. I want this."

"Shepard," Garrus warned again, a louder, more worried edge to his voice now as he pressed into her once more. He gripped the covers on either side of her, balling his hands into fists around the soft linen threads, and gave a short, soft grunt as a carnal shudder running up the length of his strong body. "Shepard, I don't think—"

"Do it," Shepard insisted, wrapping her arms around his plated ribcage, her nails digging into the ridges of his spine as she pressed her body against his, leaving a glimmering trail of sweat along the length of his torso. "Do it, Garrus."

Garrus opened his mouth, prepared to argue again, to remind her of the repercussions they had been warned about regarding the contact of turian fluids and human internals, but he did not have time before he felt a rush, the throbbing pressure instantly lifting from his strong form as he let loose inside of her, his body giving a great shudder as he let out an exclamation, half of pleasure and half of worry, and at this, Shepard let out a loud, carnal exclamation, her thighs tensing as her back arched, her hands grasping onto the ridges of his spine as if for dear life, feeling as though an explosion of pleasure had just gone off in her head, filling her body down to her toes with a feeling of animalistic euphoria as she finally hit orgasm.

"YES!" she screamed, her hands sliding up his spine until her arms were wrapped around his strong, reptilian neck, the edges of the plating on the back of his neck pressing against her skin as she pulled him close. Still panting, now worn out, Garrus leaned down to her, pressing a weak line of kisses against her collar-bone, leading up her throat, before laying his head down against her chest. Shepard breathed out, holding his head close to her heart, gently stroking his face, his mandibles, his crest, her fingers exploring the grooves of his scars as she relaxed her body, allowing her toes to uncurl from the covers as she moved her form around his, sliding one of her legs between his, entwining them. Then, leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, holding him close, savouring the last, lingering dregs of ecstasy.

"God," she breathed.

"Yeah," Garrus answered, his voice similarly quieter, tired out.

"That was… incredible," Shepard panted, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes with one free hand before returning it to his face, leaning down to give him another gentle, fond kiss. "Why have we never done that before?"

Garrus hesitated a moment, breathing heavily as he thought this over, before the corners of his serrated mouth suddenly curved upwards into a small, impish smirk. "Sexual activity normal stress release for humans and turians," he answered, mimicking the speech pattern of Mordin Solus. "Still, recommend caution. Warn of chafing—"

"Stop that," Shepard said, wrinkling up her nose as a wry, recognizing grin split her features.

"Turians based on dextro-amino acids," Garrus continued in the same nasal, clipped tone, the puckish grin widening on his jagged features as he nestled his head against her chest, a faint, purring chuckle vibrating against the folds of his throat as he teased her. "Human ingestion of tissue could provoke allergic reactions—"

"Stop ittt," Shepard laughed, playfully attempting to push his face away from her chest. "Stooppp."

Garrus chuckled as well, pulling himself back over to her. "Anaphylactic shock possible," he kept going, planting a small, light kiss on her cheek before nestling his head up under her chin. "So try not to ingest—"

"Garrus," Shepard said, pushing herself up onto one elbow to look over at him with an expression of annoyed disapproval, though it was obvious from the smile she was trying hard to hide that his antics were tickling her.

"What," Garrus answered, playfully curt in return.

"Stop," she told him flatly.

"Okay," he replied, though the mischievousness in his tone made the statement difficult to believe.

"You're freaking me out," she told him.

"Okay," he answered again.

"I don't want to be sleeping with Mordin Solus," she said.

"Well, hey, I dunno," Garrus teased. "The guy's got some real sex appeal. If you're, y'know, into that. He probably drives the lady salarians wild with that devil-may-care, how's it…" He paused, thinking a moment, before starting up with his impression once more, "Sexual deviants may enjoy salarian flexibility. More cartilage in skeletal structure—"

"Garrus," Shepard said, her tone firm despite the smile she could not keep from her face, taking his head in her hands and pressing her forehead to his so that their eyes were focused only on each other's. "Stop."

"Okay," he said, grinning widely.

"I mean it," Shepard said.

"I got it," Garrus told her.

"You promise?" she asked.

"I promise," he answered. "No more sex ed."

"Good," Shepard said, and let go of his face, allowing him to nuzzle his head up under her chin again, sliding her leg closer to him with one foot. Garrus chuckled, the deep baritone of his two-toned voice soothing as his vocal cords vibrated and buzzed against her skin. Then, reaching one strong, scaled arm around her, he pulled her in towards him, letting her shift until the edge of her shape fit up perfectly against the line of his plates.

"Good," he repeated, finally closing his eyes. "Good."

The first thing Shepard realized when she opened her eyes again was that everything had gone dark.

A faint luminescent glow pulsed from the empty, bubbling fish-tank, but apart from that, no lights were on in her room, not even the dim ambient lights she always kept on, even when she slept. Sitting up in bed, she ran a hand back through her choppy red hair, letting out a sigh as she moved to the edge of the bed, allowing the covers slide from her strong, naked form. She could hear Garrus give a soft groan of protest when she moved, but he merely clutched the discarded covers closer to him, not bothering to wake up. A faint, fond smile touched Shepard's lips at the sight, but she quickly pushed the thought from her head, instead getting to her feet and padding quietly towards her personal telecommunication device.

Leaning forward, Shepard tapped the spacebar a few times with one inquisitive finger, but as she had expected, there was no response. The telecomm seemed to be out of operation as well. Frowning faintly, Shepard straightened, leaning one unimpressed hip against the back of her desk-chair, until the sudden sound of Joker's voice over the intercom system caused her to jump, pressing her hands across her breasts in a knee-jerk reaction in an attempt to hide them from view, even though she knew there was no way for Joker to see her over the intercom.

"Commander?" Joker asked, his voice sounding almost frantic. "EDI just went offline."

Shepard hesitated, taken aback by the abruptness of the problem, before finally managing to collect her nerves enough to respond. "What do you mean, 'offline'?" she asked, letting her hands drop back to her sides. By now Garrus had woken up as well, and sat upright in bed, blinking tiredly, as if still trying to convince himself to wake up entirely. Giving a wide, cat-like yawn, he watched with half-lidded eyes as Shepard started to move around the room, trying to find and gather up her scattered clothing, starting with her bra, which she fumbled with before managing to clip it into place. How the turian managed to get it off with so little difficulty when even she had to try two or three times to work the clasp, she would never know.

"I don't know," Joker answered, his voice clipped, clearly anxious now. "She's not responding and I can't access the AI Core diagnostics. You better get down to Deck Three."

"What's up?" Garrus asked, rubbing his eyes before pushing himself upright in bed, leaning back against the scratched and battered headboard. "Is it something important? Should I come, too?"

Pulling on her panties, Shepard made a face as she realized she had forgotten to wash between her legs, but then, realizing that there was no time to waste, she shook her head, continuing to throw on her clothes with a sense of almost desperate abandon. "No," she told him, pulling on her pants and hopping once before finally managing to get both legs through. "Just… stay here. I can handle this. It's just a bit of… electrical malfunction, nothing to…" Zipping and buttoning her pants, she bent then, quickly grabbing up her shirt and pulling it over her head, making her short red hair explode in a frazzled sunburst, which she quickly tamed by running her hands over it, the motion almost subconscious. "Plus, I don't want people to see us coming out of my cabin at the same time," she added, sitting down on the bed again as she started to pull on her socks, distracted. "I don't want them getting… ideas…"

"Like what?" Garrus asked, now fully awake, trying not to sound offended but ultimately failing. "Like that we're sleeping together? People already know we're a couple, Shepard, it's not like it's some huge deal for them to see us together."

"I know," Shepard told him, pulling on one of her boots and quickly lacing it up before starting on the other. "It's just, there's a difference between people knowing we're sleeping together and us… flaunting it, you know?" Finished with her boots, Shepard got to her feet again, grabbing her jacket up off the floor of the cabin and pulling it on around her shoulders. "I mean, just because I enjoy building model ships doesn't mean I walk around with one around my neck, you see what I'm saying?" she asked, zipping up the front of the jacket. "You can do something and enjoy doing it without having to rub it in other peoples' faces."

"I didn't realize you felt the same way about us as you did about model ships," Garrus answered, deadpan.

"Can we talk about this later?" Shepard asked, making a face as she turned to face him, now fully dressed. "I've got an AI problem to take care of right now, but this is clearly something you feel we need to talk about in more detail."

"Well, yeah," Garrus scoffed, seeming almost disgustedly surprised at her dismissive tone. "I mean, I know you're busy with the Reaper War and everything, but I—"

"Great," Shepard said, cutting him off. "We'll talk about this later, then." And with that, she turned, hardly even noticing the expression of shock on her turian companion's face as she made her way to the door of the cabin and let herself out.

Because the electrical systems were down on the ship, that meant the elevator was out of order as well, which meant that the only way to get from floor to floor was to take the stairs. Shepard's mother had always preached to her about not taking old technology for granted, because, as Hannah put it, everything that had successfully survived this far into the progression of man had to have a use, no matter how unnecessary it might seem, at first, to the casual onlooker. The stairs of the Normandy had never been Shepard's favourite way to get around the ship – they were cramped and far too close together, built for the convenience of other species more than for that of humans – but now that she actually needed them, she supposed it was a good thing Cerberus had decided to install them into the updated model, nonetheless.

Finally reaching the third floor of the ship, Shepard quickly made her way to the doors of the AI Core, slowing her pace as she drew closer, taking caution not to startle the two crewmembers who already stood guard there, each one holding what appeared to be a fire extinguisher. "What's going on here?" Shepard asked, turning to the first crewman and stifling a yawn.

"Automated systems have the fires contained," the crewman answered, shifting the weight of the manual fire extinguisher between his hands. "It should be safe to enter."

"We'll follow your lead," the second crewman added.

Shepard turned, glancing back at the second crewman, and noted for the first time that both crewmembers were wearing strap-on breathing masks. It was a smart precaution, but not one she had the time to go looking for. Suddenly, a heavy thumping noise reached her ears, accompanied by the rushing sound of some sort of high-pressure gas being released, and all three standing outside the AI Core took a surprised step back. Frowning worriedly, Shepard reached up a hand to her in-ear comm device, pressing two fingers to the microphone button as she took another step away from the heavy, automated door.

"Joker, what's that sound?" she asked, her green eyes trailing up and down the length of the door, as if expecting noxious gas to leak through the cracks at any moment.

"Fire extinguishers, Commander," Joker answered curtly. "Could be an electrical fire, or… something."

Giving a comprehending nod, Shepard dropped her hand from her ear, turning back to the heavy door of the AI core, and indicated the crewmen towards the electronic lock. At her signal, one of the crewmen stepped forward, passing his omni-tool over the red hologram lock-panel, and instantly unlocked it, causing it to flicker green. Shepard glanced between both crewman, noting the worried looks on their faces, before moving forward again, a reassured assertiveness in her step. "I'm going in," she announced. Then, taking another step forward, she allowed the automatic weight-sensitive module to kick in, opening the door of the AI Core, before she started into the room, her head held high, unafraid.

She was quickly stopped short, however, by a hazy wave of smoke bursting forth from the AI Core, washing over her and her two flanking crewmen in a cascade of blinding fog, and she had to shield her eyes to keep from being blinded by the sudden onslaught. Darting quickly past her into the AI Core, the first crewman sprayed a thick mist of anti-flammatory matter into the air, dismissing the worst of the smoke from their immediate vicinity, before turning back to Shepard and nodding to her, indicating that it was all clear for her to come inside. Moving in past the crewman again, Shepard covered her mouth and nose, keeping herself from inhaling smoke, and used her other hand to wave the thick haze away from her eyes, which were beginning to water.

"EDI?" she called, trying her best to stifle a dry cough. "Talk to me!" Looking around, she could barely make out the outline of the AI Core's consoles through the thick grey smoke that filled the room, but she took another step forward anyway, passing her hand in front of her face again in an attempt to clear her vision. "EDI?" she called again, and this time she was answered by a deep, humming noise which caused her to jump, only to realize that the sound was the hardware booting noisily back up.

Turning, Shepard watched as the bright blue lights that lined the metallic faces of the hub consoles began to flicker back on, one by one. Then, looking back into the heart of the AI Core again, she found that she could just barely make out what looked to be a glowing orange strip of light making its way through the smoke towards her and her crewmates, accompanied by the steady, curt click, click, click of what sounded like stiletto heels. At the sound, the two crewmen took a cautionary step back, but Shepard merely peered into the steadily dissipating smoke that still lingered in the AI Core, passing her hand in front of her face once more in an attempt to clear her vision.

"EDI?" she asked again, squinting into the room to try to get a better view of whatever it was that was approaching her and her crewmates through the smoke. She did not have to wait long, however, before a figure stepped forth from the mist, the last of the lingering smoke rolling in tendrils off of her sleek, silver robotic body. She held her proud, angled head high, her painted eyes framed by what looked to be a glowing orange strip, a monitor or visor of some sort, and though her hands dangled awkwardly at her sides, as if she had not yet found an appropriate use for them yet, she still seemed to have already developed a sort of catwalk-eque grace in her mannerisms as she came to stand before Shepard and her two crewmates, balanced effortlessly on the tapered heels of her built-in stilettos.

"Is there a particular topic you wish to discuss, Shepard?" EDI's smooth voice questioned, seeming completely unfazed by the supposed electrical fire in the AI Core, or her short instance of dysfunctionality.

Instantly, one of the two crewmen who had entered the AI Core moved forward, his posture almost crouched as he pointed his Carnifex at the stranger, ready to take her out at a word from his Commander. Shepard opened her mouth, prepared to say something in response to the AI's oblivious question, but found that no words would come out, and so quickly closed her mouth again instead. She had gotten so used to hearing the cool female voice of the AI coming from the overhead speaker system, from seemingly everywhere and nowhere at the same time, that to hear it now coming from this compact being, to be able to put a face to the voice she had gotten so accustomed to, was almost startling, and for a moment she had to pause to collect her senses.

"EDI," she finally said, surprised, unsure of what else there really was to say in the current situation.

"Yes?" asked EDI coolly. She appeared distracted now, lifting her hands and turning them over to inspect them, as if she was not quite used to them yet, and Shepard could not help but feel a knot beginning to form in her stomach as she watched the formerly bodiless AI casually exploring her newfound shape, though she was unsure whether her discomfort was being caused by the AI's oddly human characteristics or the fact that the body she had chosen to inhabit had been the same one that had very nearly taken the life of one of Shepard's oldest and dearest friends.

"You're in… Doctor Eva Coré's body," Shepard said, taking a few cautious steps forward towards the former AI and giving the robo-body a quick once-over.

"Not all of me," EDI answered simply, seeming satisfied with her inspection, and quickly shifted into a defensive stance, pulling her body into a rigid, straight-backed posture and crossing her arms loosely over her sleek chest, all but cradling her ample bust in the crooks of her arms. She almost seemed to be protecting her new prize from the Commander, as if she were afraid Shepard might try to take it away from her now that she had been discovered. "But I have control of it. It was… not a seamless transition."

Shepard frowned, irked by the curt self-righteousness of EDI's replies and her apparent unwillingness to openly answer questions. She seemed to be playing a strategy of minimal ripostes, giving only as much information as she needed to give to get by without revealing anything too important, and while the Commander understood that even AIs needed to be versed in the science of self-preservation, the fact that EDI could be so self-serving, especially when things were so uncertain not only aboard the Normandy, but everywhere else in the galaxy as well, made her angry. "A transition?" she demanded, allowing herself a bit of ire now that she knew that neither the Normandy nor its crew were in any immediate danger. "You blacked out on us for a while, there."

"Correct," EDI answered, detached as ever. "When we brought this unit on-board, I began a background process to search for its information on the Prothean device. This eventually triggered a trap – a backup power source and CPU activated, and the unit attempted physical confrontation." The AI turned her head, watching the second crewman as he worked, the axis of her neck twisting almost all the way around to the back as the stacked discs shifted in a circular motion, much like cogs, before she smoothly turned her attention back to Shepard, her cold silver eyes fixed on the Commander, unblinking. "Fortunately, I was able to gain root access and repurpose it as I saw fit," she added matter-of-factly. "During this process, it… struggled. Thus, the fire."

"EDI, you need to alert us about incidents like this," Shepard scolded, annoyed at the AI's cool, dismissive attitude towards the whole ordeal. "You shouldn't have done this alone."

"Bringing the crew up to speed would have been counterproductive," EDI replied, giving a cheeky little shift of her new hips and shoulders as she did so, and though Shepard was sure was just a side-effect of her getting accustomed to her new body, it nevertheless only served to irritate her even more than before. "All attempts to help would have been limited by reaction time."

Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard sensed movement, and, turning her head, she realized that one of the two crewmen who had entered the room with her had edged quietly forward, and was now taking a moment to curiously inspect the ship AI's new body. Throwing him a censorious look, Shepard watched as he quickly turned, his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, and returned to his work of clearing the room of smoke. The other crewman still had not looked up from his own duties of accessing the ship's systems from a console in the corner of the AI core, working as fast as he could to turn off the ship's fire extinguishers. Then, turning back to EDI, Shepard pointed a curious finger at her, slitting her green eyes faintly at the still-unfamiliar femmebot casing.

"So if you're in there," Shepard said, her voice hesitant, "are you… still in the ship?"

"I exist primarily within the ship," EDI responded, her manner still totally matter-of-fact as she shifted back and forth on her new, shapely feet, barely even seeming to notice the curious and intrigued stares she was earning from the two crewmen standing behind Shepard. "For optimal control, this unit should remain within Normandy's broadcast or tight-beam range."

Shepard paused, taken aback, a faint line of a frown creasing her freckled brow as she stared EDI down. "Are you planning to take that body somewhere?" she asked, barely trying to hide the note of scepticism in her tone. Letting the headstrong AI have a tangible body, especially under such unusual and risky circumstances, was one thing, but giving her free reign to use said body to wander wherever she pleased outside the confines of the ship she was designed to help run – that was another thing entirely.

"Normandy's weaponry is not suited to every combat situation," EDI answered frankly, indicating with one hand towards the power grids lining the walls of the AI Core. "This platform could provide limited-fire ground support."

At this, Shepard looked up again, noting the clear strain of enticement with which EDI spoke of her newfound ability to help outside the confines of the Normandy, and had to keep herself from cracking an incredulous smile. She had to give it to the AI – if there was one thing she certainly did not lack for, it was confidence. "You mean, you could come with us?" the Commander asked, the waver of shock still not having faded from her stunned tone.

"Correct," EDI replied, curt and professional. "This body could accompany you to areas the Normandy could not reach."

Shepard sighed, shaking her head as she crossed her arms across her chest, shifting her weight onto her back foot and giving EDI one last once-over before fixing her with a hard, levelling stare. "Before we do that, I need you to guarantee this mech doesn't have any more surprises in it," she told the AI. "Run whatever tests you can – then we can talk about using it in combat situations."

"One moment," EDI replied smoothly. "I am running trials." Going silent, the blank-eyed femmebot straightened her posture, allowing her hands to hang, straight-fingered, at her sides, as her head moved slowly from right to left. Then, looking back at Shepard again, she lifted her chin, seeming satisfied with herself. "Complete," she reported, cool and collected as ever. "I can send you a full report, if you wish. However, my first step should be restoring functionality to the Normandy, to reassure the crew that all is normal."

"Just… don't be surprised if the crew is a little wary of your… new body," Shepard told her, trying her hardest to sound concerned for the AI, but empathy had never been her strong suit, and, despite her best efforts, the words sounded awkward and forced. "It was shooting at them a little while ago."

"An excellent point," EDI conceded, seeming less than put off by Shepard's candour. Then, hardly missing a beat, she added with what Shepard could only guess was her own, unusual brand of enthusiasm, "I will take it to the bridge. Joker will also want to see it."

"On that, we can agree," Shepard murmured, watching as the newly-able-bodied robot made her way, almost gleefully, towards the doors of the medibay, before finally disappearing around the corner of the elevator column, heading up towards the cockpit to show off her new body to the unsuspecting pilot. Shepard gave a thin smile, silently praying that the shock of EDI's new body would not cause their pilot to crash the ship and kill them all. That would be an unfortunate end to what had started out as such a nice day.

And it would be a pity to die before breakfast.