Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

God, Traynor pours them stiff. She hasn't been this drunk in a long time, couldn't see her way to allowing herself the indulgence, but as she sways, dizzy there on the dim, dark balcony, watching the people who have become her family, listening to Garrus murmur in her ear about sightlines and armored glass - he is none too sober either - she's hit by the realization that this could be the last time they're all together. The war is waiting for them, outside of this place they've made a home with just their presence. Not all of them are coming back.

Chapter Text

Shepard slowly climbs the ramp up to the galaxy map, and when she gets to the top, she's presented with the holographic interface, silently asking her where she wants to go. The whole galaxy spreads out before her in the tank, billions of stars, too many to count. She's the one in charge now. It's her call. There's no one to fall back on, no insulating layer between her and the upper ranks of the Alliance. It's her mission, win or lose, with the galaxy in the balance and no idea where to start.

So where is she taking them?

Chapter Text

"Hmm," Kasumi says, absent-minded. Maybe this one... She flips the page of her magazine. Ooh, or this one? The detailing is superb –

Her ears alert her that action is required. "Mm-hmm," Kasumi says again. Shepard turns and paces the other way, her hands flying as she rants. Does it come in black? She'll powder-coat it if required, but it's always better if the manufacturer offers it from the start.

" – you even listening?" Shepard's glaring at her, her hand on her hip.

"Of course I am," Kasumi says with a roll of her eyes, indifferent to the irritation on Shepard's face.

Chapter Text

For an endless moment, everything is frozen.

Vega stares at Shepard in horror; there's absolutely nothing he could say that would make this better, but still his mouth opens and closes slowly, silently, like a particularly pathetic guppy. Her jaw clenching, Shepard shakes her hands off in an angry gesture; the oil-based lubricant splatters the deck all around her, but that doesn't solve anything – he'd gotten her good. She's soaked from head to waist, her hoodie a slick, oily void.

She sighs. "Vega?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Clean this shit up."

She turns and walks away, and only then does Vega relax.

Chapter Text

In her dreams she falls again, the phosphorus-bright tubes spilling their contents down after her to cover her in their quicksilver gleam, drowning her in the cacophony of colors for which she has no name. She hits the deck – the same deck, always the same deck – but instead of burnt-dying-red blood, she bleeds purples and blues and bright, blinding yellows, bleeding from her veins a life built from every color she's ever seen, ever worn or painted on her face, like the heart of her is made of the essence of all of the things she's taken as her own.

Chapter Text

"Wait," says Liara slowly. "You take animal milk, curdle it, add bacteria to it, ferment it, and then you eat it? On purpose?"

Shepard stares down at her powdered, reconstituted mac-and-cheese rations. "Well, I was. Maybe not anymore."

"Come on, Commander, this shit is basically plastic anyway," Ashley says, shoving another huge bite into her mouth. "Don't let them put you off processed cheese. It's one of the four food groups."

"Along with beer – " Joker says, dropping his tray on the table next to them.

"Steaks – " Kaidan adds.

"And chocolate." Shepard groans at the thought. "God, I miss decent chocolate."

Chapter Text

"This was not part of the plan," Shepard hisses. Garrus hears her – she knows he does, because he's laughing at her, the bastard. He just keeps dancing, though, forcing her to watch her feet to keep her balance.

"You need to learn how to relax," Garrus says directly in her ear, the deep, two-toned rumble sending shivers down her spine. "Trust them to be here on time, and trust me." He spins her out, their arms snapping tight between them, and then back in and catches her on his chestplate.

"Trust me, Shepard," Garrus repeats, his voice soft.

Shepard smiles.

Chapter Text

She...

Garrus lifts his head, searching the rubble, the destroyed buildings licked by fires both organic and chemical, swarming with tired, injured rescue workers.

She has to be here somewhere. Shepard is always at the middle of the explosion, the center of the hurricane. That's her niche. It's where she belongs. All he has to do to find her is to figure out where that is.

And hope she didn't die in the crash.

The biggest section of the Crucible landed somewhere over there. Garrus grabs Grunt and Zaeed and starts muscling through the crowds.

Hold on, Shepard. We're coming.

Chapter Text

Garrus slides onto his favorite stool, the one that's always waiting for him when his shift ends; a glass lands in front of him in the next second. He doesn't have to ask for what he wants. Not anymore.

He salutes Shepard and drains his glass in one motion. She watches him with narrow, considering eyes.

"You look like shit," she says bluntly.

Garrus laughs, shaking his head. "Charming, as always."

Shepard leans over, her soft, gentle hand tracing his mandible. "Try not to overindulge, okay? I want you fully functional later."

Garrus smirks. "Don't worry, Shepard. Gun's always loaded."

Chapter Text

"You're military," Gerrel says, his entire body defensive. "You understand that."

"If it was just me, I'd understand, though it seems pretty stupid given what I'm trying to do," Shepard says, shrugging. Her voice slowly chills, dripping with hoarfrost. "But you just put one of your Admiralty Board in harm's way. What if you were trying to assassinate Tali? And what's your position in the Hierarchy these days, Garrus?"

"Climbing ever higher," Garrus says, his voice flat.

"Bad move, Admiral. Don't ever threaten my people again. Now." Shepard smiles, showing all of her teeth. "Get the hell off my ship."

Chapter Text

James leans against the wall, his arms folded to make his biceps pop against his t-shirt, and watches Tali rip through the junkyard with well-practiced efficiency.

"Is that a Meshivet?" Her shocked voice climbs higher, buzzing with delight. "In working order?!"

This is why James volunteered to help. Tali's fucking adorable every day, but the best part of these trips is when she finds something that her people need. She yanks him over by the elbow and gestures at it, flailing, and he just –

James really likes her. And he can't find it in himself to be sorry about that.

Chapter Text

Shepard calls this training. James calls it torture.

He creeps through the abandoned building, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with unease and the eyes he's sure are there somewhere, even if he can't see them.

I'm not made for this shit, he gripes, pausing at a corner to listen hard. This cat-and-mouse crap is the worst. Fucking snipers think they know everything –

James freezes as he feels the hard muzzle of a gun at his back. Crusader, if he had to guess.

"Good girl, Chatika," Tali purrs. "Lieutenant."

James swallows hard. "Ma'am."

He is so fucked.

Chapter Text

She's had people ask her why she wears makeup. You're a soldier, they said. It's unbecoming. Unnecessary. A waste of time and effort. Why bother out in the field? Don't you have better things to do?

Then there's the fucking assholes. Like lipstick on a pig, she'd heard once.

(She doesn't think she was intended to overhear that one, but you never know.)

Shepard swipes a perfect, dark line of lipstick over her lower lip and examines the effect. Those people, the ones who stare or question, they don't understand. This isn't makeup, not to her. This is war paint.

Chapter Text

She spots him the instant she walks into the bar.

Shepard winds her way around the room, keeping to the edges of the crowd, stalking him with the infinite patience and soft feet of the panther she fancies she can feel crouching in her heart, until she slips in behind him. Garrus is still turning his glass in his hand, watching the condensation drip down the sides.

Wait. No. That's not his glass. It's hers. That's her bloody gin and tonic he's nursing.

Shepard pads closer, presses her whole body against his, and purrs into his ear. "That for me?"

Chapter Text

"You can't do that again," Garrus says, holding her shoulders carefully, as if he's trying not to shake her.

Ah. There's the elephant in the room.

Shepard meets his eyes squarely. "This is my job, Garrus."

"No one ever said you had to take a damaged ATLAS to meet a primordial eldritch horror four thousand feet under the ocean," Garrus says with a glare. "What happens to your coalition if you die? Did you ever think about that?"

The what happens to me? is left unsaid, but she hears it. She always hears him.

Shepard sighs and holds him tighter.

Chapter Text

"An Einstein-Rosen bridge," Shepard breathes, pressed as close to the cockpit as she can get. Her eyes are so huge they're damn near overtaking her face, shining with a breathless wonder that makes Garrus smile.

She's beautiful with the whole galaxy reflected in her eyes.

"What's that?" he asks, leaning forward to look over her shoulder.

"It's a theoretical space bridge," Shepard says, so distracted she doesn't complain when Garrus slides his arms around her waist. "A wormhole. No one's ever seen one before."

"Where do you think it goes?"

A long pause, then, before Shepard laughs. "Let's find out."

Chapter Text

"You've got this entire branch of dialogue locked behind three quests and a character death," Sam argues. "No one's going to see it after they save-scum to rescue what is arguably our most popular character."

"That's the culmination of six months of pining!" Tali's glare is terrifying. "Javen and Thalia have waited long enough for their happy ending."

"Does it have to happen after the Ros crashes?" Sam bargains, slightly desperate. "What if we move it – "

"Ohh," Tali says thoughtfully. "If I cut – But then I can – " She bends over her omnitool again, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief.

Chapter Text

"I'm gonna break a fucking ankle," Shepard protests.

"Come on, Shep," Kasumi says, standing back to admire her work. "Are you gonna let a little heel get between you and a mission?"

"You call that a little heel?!"

Joker slides into the seat next to Garrus, dropping a bowl of popcorn on the table between them. He shrugs when Garrus cocks an eyebrow. "It's tradition, okay?"

Humans.

Kasumi coaxes Shepard into an easy, swaying walk; there's nothing smooth about the way Garrus instantly chokes. Joker snorts and pushes the bowl closer to him.

He hadn't expected to like the view.

Chapter Text

Chips, jerky, chocolate – dextro and levo. His and hers takes on a whole new meaning when your partner is turian – and most importantly, as much booze as she could lay her hands on.

"Shepard, come on," Garrus says, hooking his finger into her pocket and pulling her down onto the couch. "It's not going to be that bad. You're stocking up for an apocalypse."

"It's the premiere," Shepard argues. "This is our show, it's about us. Aren't you worried?"

"If I thought it might change what we have," he says, touching his forehead to hers. "We both know it won't."

Chapter Text

"If I lean sideways, I'm pretty sure I can see my house from here."

Shepard sighs. "All the stars in all the galaxy, and you had to invade mine."

Vakarian makes no reply, but she imagines him turning his head toward her, his too-bright eyes taking her in across the dry well they're stuck in.

No rations for either of them. A little water they're struggling to share. Their best chance is if one side or the other runs a patrol near enough to hear them shouting.

"I've had worse company, Shepard," Vakarian says quietly.

"Yeah," she admits. "Me, too."

Chapter Text

The first time she'd heard the joke, she was only twelve. She didn't understand it, not until years later when someone pulled her aside and told her what it meant.

And then every time after, whether it's told in fun or not, it feels like something chipping away at her sense of self. Like being reduced down to a thing. It's what taught her about microagressions.

So when she overhears one of the reporters asking Garrus if the carpet matches the drapes –

And Garrus uses all of his height to wordlessly intimidate the reporter into ducking away –

Shepard just smiles.

Chapter Text

He's watching her again. She can feel it.

Shepard knocks back the rest of her jynnan tonyx, lifting a peremptory eyebrow. "What?"

"You weren't like this before," Kaidan says quietly.

Before. Shepard hates that word.

"I was your CO for six months. That doesn't mean that you knew me, Alenko." The words curl bitter around her tongue like absinthe.

"You let me call you Jane for five hours that night."

His dark eyes are too heavy to bear.

"And then Horizon made fools of us all," she says, laughing, pouring herself another drink. "Shine's worn off a bit, hasn't it?"

Chapter Text

"Come on, Commander, you've got to get some sleep or you'll be useless," Vega says, not unsympathetically.

"I've got watch," Shepard argues.

But he's right, of course. She can feel it pressing against her skull, the sick ache in her stomach, a thick, gritty film coating her mouth.

"Fuck," she mutters, rubbing her eyes. "How's Tali?"

"Hanging in there," Vega says, lifting his chin, like he's daring the universe to prove him wrong. "She's a tough little mama."

And if the look in his eyes is just a little too fond for shipmates –

Hell, Shepard's got no business throwing stones.

Chapter Text

If Garrus hadn't seen it with his own eyes...

"Shepard," he whispers, crouching to equalize their heights. "Shepard, what is this?"

She can't answer him. That tongue was never meant to form human words. Slowly, slowly, the wolf pads toward him, trembling, weak-legged, her head hanging low. She comes to his knee and sits heavily, her long tongue lolling, panting for breath.

"Has this happened before?"

Shepard visibly hesitates. That's a yes, then.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

She shakes her head – nods – sighs and turns her face away, as if to avoid his eyes, or her guilt.

Chapter Text

Once, Shepard was the brightest thing in the galaxy, so vital and full of life that she made everything and everyone else around her look dull and gloomy.

That was before.

Every night, she grows more tired, colder; every morning, she's a little more drained than she was the night before, a little more reluctant to get out of bed.

Garrus has tried everything. He's moved her four times; he's even sat awake all night in her cabin on the Normandy, watching over her as she slept.

Something is killing her, and he has no idea how to stop it.

Chapter Text

The ship's bell rings a long, lonely note that rolls out far over the dark water. The swell of the sea beneath the Normandy is smooth, the ship's rocking slight and pleasant; the rigging ropes rub against each other, creaking rhythmically. Her sailors are dicing or singing quietly.

These are the rhythms by which Shepard lives her life. They're the ship's breath, her heartbeat, and without them Shepard would be lost.

"It's a nice evening, isn't it, Shepard?"

Captain Anderson's standing in front of her, his back to her, so Shepard feels safe in smiling fondly. "Yes, sir, it is."

Chapter Text

Shepard clatters into the cockpit too fast for Joker to clear his screens. She's looking at something on her omnitool when he whips around in his chair, hoping he can distract her –

And then Shepard's head comes up and sees his screens. The steel that hardens behind her eyes is not reassuring Joker about his chances of surviving today.

"Mr. Moreau," she says coolly. Joker winces. "Is there any particular reason you're a pain in my fucking ass?"

Some small, suicidal part of him wants to make the joke she'd left for him. But he's not stupid.

"Just lucky, ma'am."

Chapter Text

"How do you..." Shepard gestures at something near his groin, and a thousand inappropriate things go through Garrus's head as he tries to figure out what she means.

She can't be talking about...

Can she?

(Garrus wouldn't put it past her.)

"How do I what?" Garrus asks warily.

Shepard glances at him, and then down, and flushes up to her hairline. "Not that! What's wrong with you? I meant how do you keep stability on a rifle? I have a hard enough time with four extra fingers and you've only got two."

Oh. Garrus laughs a little, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

Shepard's on an infiltration job on Illium, dressed to the nines in the classy, sensual dress of a conservative call-girl. Her target is a heavy partier, and Shepard's wrangled an invite. She just needs to get close so the targeted virus can jump from Shepard's skin to Alethia's.

When Shepard looks this hot? Easy.

She circulates through the crowd, her eyes on her target, until she skirts too close to the edge of the crowd –

The smallest hairs at the base of her neck stand up, and she looks up into a scope and a pair of blue eyes.

Vakarian.

Chapter Text

Tali bends over her omnitool, and Sam follows suit.

"Earth and pressure make stone – "

"Cheater. Stone and time make gravel."

Sam laughs. "It's not cheating, I just grew up playing these games. Gravel and... something... makes sand. Time? Waves?"

Tali tries different combinations, twisting the tiles through three-dimensional space with the practiced fingers of a master. "Waves," she says, grumbling with false irritation. "Remind me to introduce you to Cortzel when we have some free time."

"What, so you can slaughter me?" Sam says, laughing. She leans closer and nudges Tali. "Try sand and water. I think that makes beach."

Chapter Text

"Cerberus." Shepard laughs, an ugly note in her voice. "Like hell I'm ever working for you psychos."

"No?" He draws on his cigar, lets it billow out slowly. "Is that your last word?"

She flips out her omniblade. "This is my last word, you – "

With a sigh, he interrupts her like she's not even there. "Miranda."

There's a tiny electronic cheep and then –

Her vision goes black.

Shepard sucks in a hard breath and holds it, staving off the panic that threatens to consume her.

"You're 73% cybernetics now, Shepard," he says, pausing to blow more smoke. "Think about it."

Chapter Text

"Are you sure about this?" Shepard whispers, so afraid that her voice doesn't want to work.

She trusts EDI with everything. Even this. But there are so many things that could go wrong – and not just for Shepard. This is a huge risk.

EDI's simulated voice sounds very, very sure of herself. "I promise I'll be gentle, Shepard."

The panic wells up in her again, but before Shepard can protest, she feels the cool, sure wash of EDI's processes sliding into her cybernetics, making herself at home in her controllers.

"Oh, God," Shepard gasps.

Try again, Shepard, EDI says, laughing.

Chapter Text

The hit sends Shepard flying, seeing stars, shapes and shadows and the sweet, seductive silence that beckons from the dark. She lies there for a while, for years, it feels like, and watches the fireworks cast themselves against the back of her eyelids in her own personal light show.

"You okay, Shepard?"

"Mmm," she says, sighing. "Who are you?"

"Very funny," Garrus says, leaning over her. "Seriously."

"Seriously?" Shepard opens her eyes to grin wildly at Garrus and lunges, tangling her legs between his, bringing him down to the ground with a crash. "You'll learn one day," she says, laughing.

Chapter Text

She breathes in, the sharp sting of snow slicing through her throat, her lungs, stealing the heat of her body and the life from her limbs. If it weren't for her armor, Shepard would have stumbled and fallen a long time ago, her body lost to the frozen crevasses, waiting for a spring that will never come on frozen Noveria.

It's only three steps more. Anyone can do that, Shepard tells herself, driving herself with the fierce will that's saved her life so many times.

Two –

One –

And then hands are reaching out from the doorway to pull her in.

Chapter Text

"Shepard, why did you send me a meeting request for – " Garrus ostentatiously checks his omni-tool. "A 'sleepover'? As far as I can tell, this is something about teenage girls, pillow fights, and talking about boys."

"Don't you want to paint my nails and gossip?" Shepard says, fluttering her lashes.

Garrus glances down at her brutally short nails, bitten down to the quick, and says nothing – at least out loud. The judgemental arch of his eyebrow does the talking for him.

"Maybe I meant a more adult kind of sleepover," Shepard says, her grin taking on a more wicked curl.

Oh.

Chapter Text

The bench sits on a high hill that overlooks the central slave-trading hub, one of the oldest buildings on Erszbat, and she sits slumped slightly to the left with the liquid grace of someone well and truly drunk.

She's waiting. There's no telling how long it'll take, but she doesn't care.

There's a smell of green and growing things, synthetically pleasant, she thinks with a sneer she can't show on her face.

Eventually, someone sits next to her. Turian. Civilian – maybe. She waits.

"It's time to come in from the cold," he murmurs, and Shepard finally allows herself to breathe.

Chapter Text

"Hell of a party," Shepard says softly, looking at the Normandy, picked out in starlight and nebula and the gleam of freshly polished hull plates.

"Yeah," Garrus says, just as quiet.

"Hell of a life."

There's a long silence as the crew boards.

"You don't get to do this to me," Garrus says in the same soft tones. "You don't get to say goodbye yet. I just found you. You are not giving up, do you understand?"

Shepard breathes.

"That an order?" she manages after a minute or two.

Garrus turns her face to his. "If it has to be."