Archive of Our Own

2157 – Somewhere beyond the Shanxi-Theta Mass Relay

Most people, having crash-landed on a strange alien planet with minimal long-term supplies and no crewmates, would panic and, eventually, die. Shepard was not prone to panic, and certainly had no intention of dying, but even she had to admit that the situation was pretty dire.

But it wasn’t all bad. One. She was still alive. Two. She was – miraculously – almost entirely uninjured. Three. The planet’s atmosphere was breathable. Four. She had at least managed to shoot down the turian son of a bitch who’d spotted her.

That did, admittedly, seem to be about it in terms of positives, but she’d been in situations with fewer and gotten through the other side. She didn’t see why this should be any different.

In the absence of any immediate threats to her health and safety, Shepard began to methodically examine her situation. She had landed in the escape pod, outfitted with a standard array of emergency field rations, a water decontamination kit, and a cyanide pill. Her armor sensors were working, but it was too dangerous to send out a standard distress call in what, from the extremely limited information she’d been briefed with, was turian-controlled or turian-adjacent space. She had obviously been given a secure transmitter but – and this was where a different person might start to despair – it had been damaged in the crash and was not in a fit state to transmit anything.

So that meant – optimistically, assuming nothing else went wrong – she would have to find a surface deposit of palladium to patch it. And, according to her sensors, the nearest one was a fourteen-day hike away.

The first task was to ensure that this mission wasn’t a total wash – if she could get to the wreck of the turian ship (which was, unexpectedly conveniently, not too far out of the way) and gather some useful intel, then she wouldn’t just be the idiot who crash landed in enemy territory.

“Well,” she said to herself, “guess I’d better get started.”

---

The ship was a bust, unfortunately – it was mostly destroyed and what little written information she could find was in turian. The translator nanomachines the Alliance eggheads had developed could, in theory, render the enemy’s spoken language intelligible, but it didn’t work on writing. If she’d had a vehicle, she could’ve taken it anyway for translation, but she wasn’t going to carry anything on a two-week journey on foot that she didn’t have to, especially when for all she knew it was a washing machine manual. She took holos of a few things that looked promising and hoped that would be enough.

Shepard was just about to leave the wreckage when she heard footsteps. She ducked behind some cover and held her breath. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be human.

“Ah! Shit!”

Definitely not a human voice – it had the strange reverberation that some of the reports out of Shanxi had mentioned. So she was alone with at least one turian. Damn it.

Still, at least the translator worked. Positives.

Shepard hazarded a peek around the wall. It was, indeed, a turian and, luckily for her, he was beat to shit. The turian slumped up against a wall, grabbing frantically at what looked like a medkit. He slowly slid down to the ground, clutching his side and cursing.

Quick observations: he was alone, or at least wasn’t expecting any help. He was too injured to fight back. She could also instantly redeem this shitshow of a mission by capturing a turian soldier (officer class, if she was reading him correctly) alive. Things were starting to look up.

Shepard stepped out, quietly making her way over to him. Before he even noticed her, she had her pistol to his head. “You make any sudden movements, I’ll blow your brains out.”

The turian looked up at her and sighed with annoyance. “Oh, great. As if this day couldn’t get worse.”

“Funny. Mine keeps getting better.”

He did something like a double take – it was so strange, seeing such a human reaction on such an alien being – and then winced with pain. “Fuck!” he groaned, clutching his side. “All right, you can understand me. I surrender, OK? Just help me before I bleed out.”

The petty part of Shepard wanted to quibble, but the pragmatic part knew that the Alliance had a million dead turians to play with but had never made good on a live one. The few captives they’d managed to take had a nasty tendency to commit suicide rather than talk.

“What do you want me to do?”

The turian held up one hand in submission and slowly reached into his armor with the other one. Shepard cocked her pistol. The turian groaned – she really disliked how he seemed so irritated with her. “I need a knife for the procedure. I am getting one. Is that all right with you?”

“I wouldn’t be so sarcastic to the woman taking you prisoner.” But she waved her gun towards where he was reaching. He pulled the knife out and held it for her to take, then pointed towards his neck.

“You need to stab straight down right here –“ he indicated towards the just visible bit where his carapace began – “to get underneath. Right here, you got it? Any other spot and I will die.”

“What do I care if you die?” Shepard bluffed.

“If you were going to shoot me, you would’ve shot me. Anyway, this is probably the first and last time a turian is ever going to ask you to stab him, so if I were you I’d take the opportunity.”

Shepard shrugged and knelt down. She took the knife from him, and his fingers brushed past hers as he let go. His breathing was intensely laboured. Obviously turian physiology was different, but that couldn’t be a good sign, regardless of species.

“OK, on the count of 3,” said the turian. “3, 2 –“

Shepard thrust down, and the alien let out a sickening scream. He grabbed an injection needle from the medkit, thrust it into the wound, and glared at her with pure hatred.

“What? It hurts less when you’re not expecting it.”

“That’s not really my experience of pain,” said the turian. “It tends to be the same whether you’re bracing for it or not.”

At first Shepard was unsure whether the procedure had worked, but gradually his breathing eased.

“So,” said the turian, “when’s the Alliance ship getting here?”

Shepard sat down, still pointing her pistol at him. “Fourteen days. Or so.”

The turian began to tape up his wound and laughed. “You know, that’s not as illuminating as you might think. Earth days, I’m presuming?” Shepard nodded. “How long is fourteen days?”

Shepard paused. It was surprisingly difficult to explain without any other form of reference – even human colonies with different cycles kept a record of Earth time. “Longer than I’d like. Not so long that we’ll definitely die.”

He taped the gauze down. “That’s more helpful. So you’re going to tie me up here and make camp?”

She shook her head. “Nothing so cozy, I’m afraid. When I say the ship’s coming in fourteen days, I mean we have to walk to find some resources so I can repair my transmitter and call for help.”

“How long is the walk?”

“Fourteen days.”

“You keep saying that.”

“That’s because that’s how long it’ll take. Can you manage it?”

The turian groaned. “In a little while, yes.”

“Good.” Shepard stood up, still holding the pistol to him as she looked around for something to restrain his hands with. The turian watched her, nearly unblinkingly.

“You know,” he said after a while, “I wouldn’t handcuff me if I were you.”

Shepard glared at him. “Obviously you’d think that. What am I supposed to do, trust you won’t run away? Or kill me?”

The turian stretched his arms – apparently the wound had recovered. That was some good medigel. “I didn’t sustain these injuries in the crash. I got attacked by wild animals.”

Shepard spotted a set of thick wires hanging down from the ceiling – they’d do at least until she thought of something better. She cut them down. “Yeah, right.”

“I can show you the teeth marks if you’d like. I don’t think they’re fully healed yet.”

“No, thanks.”

The turian stood up, wincing slightly. “All right. But, just so you know, I’m a crack shot. Except, of course, when my hands are tied. When my hands are tied, about all I can do is watch you get mauled to death before getting mauled myself. And that’s if I’m lucky and they attack in my preferred order.”

Shepard gestured for the turian to hold out his hands. He did, and she quickly bound them. “I can take care of myself, thanks. If you’re even telling the truth.”

“It’s your decision, obviously. But have you considered why I’m so willing to surrender?”

She had wondered that, actually. He had a couple of inches on her, and who knows how many pounds. Plus the carapace. If she’d been in his situation, she’d have at least tried to take him out before she bled to death. “I dunno. Maybe you’re dumb.”

“I’m not.” He paused for a moment. “Look, I know that I have maybe a 99% chance of dying slowly and painfully at the hands of your military. But I have a 100% chance of dying slowly and painfully here.” He tilted his head at her. “I presume your species can do math.”

She’d never seen a turian up close, which she’d always counted as a blessing. Being close to one generally meant either that they were about to kill you or you were negotiating a surrender. He was broad, although she couldn’t tell how much of that was the armor. He was certainly tough, to have dragged himself here after being wounded. And he carried a huge and sophisticated-looking sniper, which made her think he wasn’t some easily spooked rookie. Maybe he was telling the truth. Why else would he be coming with her without so much as a token attempt at resistance?

Unless he planned to take advantage of her naivete and shoot her in the back. She would also consider that plan, if she were him.

Shepard gave him a thin-lipped smile. “99%? You’re an optimist. Good. So am I.” She checked the fastenings to make sure they were secure. “You got rations in your pack?”

“And if the answer is no?”

“Then I’d ask how long you can survive without food.”

He smiled – she thought he did, anyway. It was hard to be reassured by that mouth full of very pointy teeth. “I have food.”

“Then let’s head out.” She walked behind him as they left the shipwreck, never letting her pistol down for a second.

After walking for a bit, the turian looked at her over his shoulder and said, “Oh, I forgot to check. Who am I surrendering to?”

“What does it matter?”

He turned back, facing forward. “It doesn’t really. It’s an old turian custom. If you ever surrender to someone who’s below you in rank, you’re supposed to mentor them when the war’s over.”

Shepard snorted. “Weird custom.” She thought about whether to lie – but, then again, he’d know eventually when they put him in prison. “I’m Commander Shepard.”

“Oh, good, now I don’t have to bother.”

She wondered whether she’d revealed too much already. She was certain there was a lot she could give away over the course of two weeks if she got too talkative. But, then again, how else were they supposed to pass the time? “What rank are you, then?”

The turian shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I’m not giving you that.”

“Why, is it embarrassing or something? Are you a private? A cadet?”

“Do I look like a cadet?” She didn’t respond, but they both knew he wasn’t. Cadets didn’t have his sang-froid. “No, I just don’t want to give you any intel you don’t already have.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m going to have to call you something, and it will be Cadet if you don’t give me anything else.”

He looked back at her, as if weighing up his options. Finally, he said, “The name’s Garrus. Use that.”

Shepard looked up at the sky – she was unsure if it was always that inky-blue colour, or if it signified the beginning of nightfall. Worse still, she could hear howling in the distance. Or, at least, a sound that was something like the animals on Earth that howled.

Damn it. It annoyed her that the turian may have told her the truth.

“Well, Garrus,” she said, “we’ve got a long way to go. I’d suggest picking up the pace.”

---

You start to notice things when you’re staring at someone’s back for hours on end. By the end of the first day, Shepard observed that Garrus was adjusting his shoulders a lot, almost as if he had an itch. Eventually, it started to irritate her.

“Is something wrong with your armor?” she asked, after a while.

He shifted, seemingly reluctant to answer. “Yeah, I think I have something stuck down the back. Would you be so kind as to pull it out?”

This has got to be a ruse. From all the reports, it seemed like turians were more the kind to gun you down to your face than to set a trap, but it was possible they prepared for all eventualities.

As if sensing her hesitation, he said, “I think I could be motivated to walk a little faster if you did.”

Shepard rolled her eyes and pressed her pistol to his head. “Fine. But if this is a trap, I’m pretty sure I can get you as well.”

“Probably.”

Shepard found herself with her head solidly between his shoulder blades. She tried going on her tippy-toes, but she couldn’t really see inside his armor. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, Shepard?” Garrus asked.

“Could you…” She didn’t want to ask. She should just let him suffer. Ugh, she had to ask. “Could you bend down a little?”

He started a little out of surprise. “Oh, right, of course.” And he did, and she peered down his armor, and there was the biggest fucking piece of shrapnel stuck into his back.

“Oh my God!”

Garrus turned his head towards her. “What? Is it a parasite or something?”

“No, it’s a huge piece of metal! Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yeah, of course it does.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I suppose I have my pride,” he admitted, sheepishly. “Pull it out and I’ll take a look.”

She reached her hand down the back of his armor and pulled it with a clean yank. It came out in one piece, thankfully (she didn’t know what she’d do if her hostage died of an infection on her), but it had been embedded pretty deep. Shepard showed it to Garrus. “I’ve had worse,” he demurred.

“Worse?”

“Turian biology. I presume you aren’t familiar?”

Shepard shook her head. “I think I skipped that class.”

“Well. I won’t tell you anything you don’t already know. If you knew where to hit me I’d have no chance. But basically as long as it doesn’t get the soft bits I’ll be OK.”

Shepard looked the shrapnel. It was large – maybe the size of her pistol – and extremely sharp. And he’d been walking with it?

That meant that the beasts that had (supposedly) attacked him must’ve really been something.

“No wonder you turians are so hard to kill,” said Shepard.

“Yeah,” Garrus replied. “So are you humans. Only thing is, we haven’t figured out your secret yet.”

---

Back in the Tenth Street Reds, Shepard had once been paid a very strange compliment.

It was an older kid – probably still in his teens, but she’d been at the age when even teenagers seemed impossibly old. Shepard didn’t know how much of that was a regular kid thing and how much of that was the fact that most people she knew didn’t make it past 18.

Anyway, the kid had watched her for some reason. It was always, always bad to be watched, and Shepard didn’t like it. One day, she’d asked the older kid why he was staring at her all the time.

“You’ve got a gift,” he replied. “You’re friends with everybody.”

Shepard shrugged. “So? Lots of people have friends.”

“Not like you, kid.” He’d knelt down to her level. She’d always hated it when people did that. It felt condescending. “You could make friends with a post if you really wanted to.” He put his hand on her shoulder and she pulled it off. He laughed. “It’s a good thing. If you can get people to trust you, then you can make them do what you want.” He stood up. “I mean, whatever. Use it or don’t.”

She hadn’t liked it at the time, but she thought about that kid a lot. She’d never known his name, and he disappeared (probably dead or in jail) not long after.

It was especially on her mind now, because she couldn’t keep herself from talking to Garrus.

She tried not to, obviously. She knew that information was as important in a war as guns were and, if he somehow managed to get away and report back to his superiors, she didn’t want anything she said to be the difference between winning and losing the war. But walking was incredibly boring, and Garrus seemed to have the same damn affliction she did. So they talked.

“Where’s home?” she asked one night at camp. She untied him and confiscated his sniper rifle for about half an hour while he ate his rations. She carried his knife and his other guns all the time, but, in addition to all her gear, the sniper rifle was simply too much to carry.

Also, of course, if he had been right about the animals – which she’d heard but not seen so far – it might not be a bad idea for him to have something to grab. Not that she’d ever tell him that, of course.

“I grew up on our home world.” Garrus kicked at the ground a little. “Mostly, anyway. My father worked on the Cita-” He paused, clearly thinking better of it. "A space station. Big one. We used to visit sometimes." He took a bite of his rations. “What about you?”

“I also grew up on our home world.”

“Earth?”

She startled. “How do you know –“

Garrus rolled his eyes. “We have one of your colonies, Shepard.” He went back to his rations as she stared at him, furiously. “Also you confirmed it when I asked you about Earth days.”

God damn it.

“What is that all about, anyway?” she asked. She knew she was losing her composure but, damn it, lots of people had died on Shanxi, some of them people she knew, and here he was being so flippant. “You shoot every alien race you come across?”

Garrus stopped eating and stared at her. “We were protecting ourselves, protecting the entire galaxy! You were the ones messing with technology you didn’t understand.”

Shepard laughed sarcastically. “So you slaughter our ships? What kind of first contact protocol is that?”

“Oh, please. Turians are predators – so are humans. It’s in our nature. Tell me, does your species have a great history of peaceful first contact between civilisations?”

“I – I don’t see how that matters.”

“Of course it matters,” Garrus said. He went back to his rations. “Since you only give me a couple of minutes,” he said, probably sensing her frustration, definitely venting his own. He took a bite and, with a half-full mouth, said, “If you’d come across an alien race smaller than you, with inferior ships, trying to touch something that could kill us all, you’d have done the same.”

Shepard gritted her teeth. It’s not that she didn’t have a response – she definitely could’ve thought of one, if she’d had a bit more time and not been so irritated – but because she had probably revealed more than she should.

But, then again, she thought, maybe so had he.

“Let’s forget about the politics,” she said, taking a swig of water. “So, this space station. Just turians?”

Garrus took his last bite of rations. “No, of course –“ He stopped, then swallowed. “Ah, shit.”

Shepard laughed. “So there are other aliens? Or did you kidnap some humans for pets or something?”

Garrus glared at her. She enjoyed winning against him, it turned out. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” he said, officiously.

Shepard smirked.

He wasn’t a post, but she’d get something out of him one way or another. Hopefully more than he got out of her.

---

It was the middle of day three when the beasts finally attacked.

She’d known, if she was being honest, that they were real. Nothing else could’ve hurt Garrus like that – except possibly her, if she got pissed off enough. But suddenly she noticed the ever-present howling was getting louder very rapidly, and then, even more suddenly, a very big fucker was running towards them at great speed.

“Shepard!” Garrus said, not quite shouting, but with a very urgent tone.

“Hang on,” she said, grabbing him by the wrist restraints and pulling him behind a big rock. She leaned over the top, only to see a thing – it looked kind of like a big cat, but about the size of a hippo, which is not a combination that you ever want to encounter – closing in on their location. She shot at it a couple of times, which only seemed to make it mad – and confirm their position. The big cat pivoted towards them.

“Shepard, you have to untie me.”

She took aim at the animal and tried not to panic. She fired off one last shot before her pistol overheated – luckily it got the cat in the leg, which slowed it down just a little.

“Shepard!” He grabbed her and pulled her down towards him. His face was right in hers – she had started to find his lack of expressions strangely earnest, although that was probably her projecting. He wasn’t being earnest now. He was terrified. “We are both going to die if you don’t let me help you.”

The big cat snarled. They stared intently at each other. She pulled out her knife.

“If you kill me, I am going to fucking haunt you,” she said as she sliced through his restraints.

“A quaint human belief, I’m sure,” he said, pulling his sniper rifle from his back, “that you’ll have to tell me all about if we survive.” He stood up and lined the shot.

“OK,” she said. “I’m going to run over there and try and distract it. You can definitely kill it if I do that, right?”

Garrus grunted. It didn’t really matter if it was a yes or a no because they were certainly going to die if she sat here doing nothing. She quickly dashed out of cover, firing a few pistol shots at the big cat while running to another rock.

The cat was impossibly fast – it covered yards in the time it took her to sprint a few feet. She kept shooting, her hands steady despite her terror. She rarely thought about how close to death she was in combat. It tended to be a very distracting notion, and distractions are not good in life and death scenarios. But, while the cat snarled and revealed every single one of its enormous teeth, all she could think was I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m gonna die.

Her pistol overheated again at exactly the worst time, as the cat leapt towards her. Shepard was trying to dart out of the way when she heard a CRACK of sniper fire, followed shortly by a distressingly large spray of red. The cat fell to the ground with a horrible thud, knocking her over with the force of its impact.

She pulled herself up onto her elbows and looked over at the cat. Dead, thank God. Garrus ran over to her.

“Are you all right?” She nodded and he held out his hand to help her up. She accepted it and looked down at the cat.

“So,” she said. “You hit it right in the head?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She looked up at him. “While it was jumping?”

Garrus shrugged. “Got lucky.”

Shepard examined the cat. The shot went clean through its brain. Calling himself a crack shot was, if anything, incredibly modest. He was quite possibly the best sniper she’d ever seen. “Remind me to ask you for advice next time I get some lottery tickets.”

He slapped her on the back. “Thanks. You did a pretty good job, too.” Garrus sighed and put away his rifle. “We’d better get moving, in case it has a mate or something. I’ll keep my hands in front of me and pretend they’re restrained until you can find something to tie me up with, if that makes you feel better.”

Garrus started to walk in the direction they had been heading in before the encounter. Shepard, however, remained firmly fixed, staring at the corpse of the big cat.

He could’ve let it get her and slipped away while the animal was distracted. He could’ve doubled back, sorted out some way off this thing. He was smart. He had to know he could’ve been a free man. But he hadn’t let it get her.

The turian prisoner had saved her life.

“Garrus.”

He turned back to her. “Yes, Shepard?”

She looked over at him. This is incredibly stupid, she thought. But she didn’t know exactly what was stupid – what she was considering, or what she was feeling. Could she really trust him? Could she let herself trust him? Even transactionally?

“A haunting,” she found herself explain, “is when the spirit of a human stays around after they’re dead and makes life miserable for the person who killed them.”

“Ah,” said Garrus. “That’s great and all, but we should go. I wasn’t kidding about the mate thing.”

Shepard went up to him and shoved him firmly in the chest. “And that’s what I’m going to do to you if you kill me. Got it?”

Garrus stared at her for a moment and then chuckled. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. Don’t worry – I’ll have your back, at least until your ship arrives.” He scanned the horizon. “Well, now you know what we’re up against. Come on. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

---

“We could share rations, you know.”

Camp was much more pleasant now that she and Garrus had embarked on their little truce. And he hadn’t killed her yet, which was also pleasant.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Share rations. For variety if nothing else.” Shepard warmed her hands over the small fire.

“We really can’t.”

“Is it against some kind of turian protocol?”

He laughed. “No, it’s just that I might be allergic to your food.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her – incredibly bland – field rations. She was a little disappointed: she’d sort of been looking forward to a change. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“No, neither had we,” said Garrus. “The first time the turians sat down with the asari –“

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” she said, teasingly.

He didn’t stick his tongue out at her, but she got the feeling that the face he pulled wasn’t that far off. “It’s just their name, it’s hardly classified intel. Anyway, the first time we sat down with Other Alien Species A –“

“Implying there’s more than one.”

“Will you shut up, we accidentally poisoned each other. It was shaping up to be a huge diplomatic incident before the autopsies were completed.”

Shepard smiled and stared into the fire. “Are the asari like you?”

“Not really,” he said. “More like you, really. In terms of looks, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Sort of. You know, similar faces, about the same height, sizeable breasts.”

Shepard nearly choked on the rest of her rations. “Breasts?” she sputtered.

“Yeah, breasts,” he said, nonchalantly, not even looking at her. “I’m sorry, are those meant to be a secret, too?”

She instinctively covered them up. “Sizeable breasts?”

He finally looked at her – and, again, she wasn’t 100% on his facial expressions, but he definitely seemed embarrassed. “Shit! I didn’t mean anything by it. How was I supposed to know you have some sort of… breast taboo?”

Commander Shepard did not blush, and anyone who might’ve said otherwise was on the other side of the fire and couldn’t really see. “Will you stop saying it!”

“I’m sorry!” They sat in silence for a while, a long while, actually. Finally, Garrus said, with some exasperation, “You can put your hand down, you know, they’re clothed. I’m not looking.”

“I’m going to bed,” she said, not at all humiliatingly.

---

The next day, Shepard called Garrus over to look at something through her binoculars.

“Do you see that?” Shepard asked. “Right in our path.”

Garrus sidled up next to her, huddling behind the rock. They’d both grown more comfortable being around each other. She didn’t notice when she stopped flinching when he got within stabbing range. She didn’t know when she’d stopped sleeping with one eye open.

He leaned over and looked. “Yeah. Watering hole. A couple of the big animals. Probably better find a way around it.”

“Yeah, of course. But do you see the female in the front?”

Garrus peered closer. “I suppose. Why?”

“Well, it’s just that it also has breasts, and since you’re such an expert…”

Garrus put down the binoculars and glared at her while she bit her lip and tried not to laugh.

“I am going to murder you,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “and I am going to enjoy it.”

She watched him get up and walk away. She was giggling the whole time. “You’re so easy,” she said.

“Go fuck yourself,” he called back, without any real animosity. “Are you coming or not?”

Shepard got up and followed him.

A thought crept into her mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

She was going to hand him over to her superiors. He almost certainly wouldn’t survive. This was a turian – a man -- that she’d shared camp with, that she could tease, that had saved her and looked after her when he didn’t need to. And she was going to be just as responsible for his death as if she’d pulled out her pistol and shot him herself.

He’s a turian, she told herself. We need the intel to win the war. This is our best opportunity to finally learn something about the bastards who blew up our ships and took over our colony. It was for the greater good. But it was hard to be coldly utilitarian about a guy who made you laugh.

It kept coming back to her, no matter how hard she kept pushing the thought back down. Wasn’t what she was doing really wrong?

---

That night was cold. It was a bit uncomfortable for Shepard, but it became clear early on that it was absolutely miserable for Garrus. He sat closer to the fire than he ever had before and even then he was still shivering.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Should I get more fuel?”

He emphatically shook his head. “No, we can’t risk it. We might get spotted.” He pulled the blanket closer across his shoulders, and he looked so pathetic. Like the wimpiest guy in boot camp. Eventually, it was so bad that Shepard couldn’t watch it anymore.

“Come on,” she got up, taking her own blankets, and sat down right next to him.

“Shepard, what are you – “

“Don’t make it weird, Garrus. You’re no good to me if you freeze to death.”

Once they’d established that the cats didn’t usually come out at night, they had started to sleep with their armor off, leaving them both in their undershirts. She couldn’t imagine she smelled good, after several days of walking and not washing, but then again she didn’t particularly notice if Garrus smelled bad. She wrapped her blankets around him and found a not-too awkward position so they could share body heat. She could feel his chest against her back, the hard metallic carapace against the back of her neck. It was cold – no wonder he couldn’t tolerate the weather. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her.

“Is that OK?”

“Yeah,” she said, not entirely sure if it was. “Whatever you need.”

His heartbeat was different than hers. Slower, maybe. Shallower. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it. He didn’t hold her too tightly, but the weight of his arms around her was reassuring. Shepard couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held.

“How long have we been walking?” he asked, softly. His voice reverberated through her. “In Earth time.”

The days here didn’t match (it was night more often than it should have been), so she had to calculate. “About seven Earth days,” she said. “So maybe ten or eleven nights here.”

There’d been a lot of strange new ideas in her head recently. For instance, about an Earth day after they’d begun their journey, it had occurred to Shepard that she could probably modify her transmitter to send a secondary local signal, as well as the one to the Alliance. She saw Garrus facing his fate with such stoicism and good humour, and she thought about what would happen to her if the Alliance didn’t come for her. She didn’t expect that she’d be treated any better in a turian prison than Garrus could hope to be in a human one, but at least she’d have a chance, however slim, of seeing real sunlight again. So that was a very bleak plan B: surrendering to the turians and hoping they had laws about the humane treatment of war prisoners.

It was only in the last day or so that she’d realised something about her plan B. Namely, if the Alliance did come for her, and she didn’t turn Garrus in, she could hand over the transmitter before she left and Garrus could go home.

She’d be a traitor. She’d be betraying everyone she’d ever known. And Garrus knew her name – why would he keep that to himself? She’d be known for the rest of her life – the rest of time -- as the woman who got soft-hearted and let a hardened turian veteran walk away from certain captivity. She’d be at best a laughingstock, and at worst…

So maybe that was plan C. There was no reason to inform Garrus of the existence of plans B or C.

“So,” he said. “That’s about halfway, isn’t it?”

She liked his voice, she realised, especially when it rumbled through her like this. She liked it more than she should. “Yeah,” she said, softly.

He rested his face against the top of her head. It felt like an intimate gesture – not uncomfortable, but… intimate. But she had no idea what he thought of it. Maybe this was, she didn’t know. Friendly. For turians.

“Is it strange to say it hasn’t been so bad?” he said, after what seemed like an eternity.

She hoped he was as unfamiliar with human heartbeats as she was with turians’, because hers was racing.

A pleasant ache went through her. One that she definitely recognised.

“A little,” she said, struggling to keep her voice in check. “But I know what you mean.”

---

First thing in the morning, Shepard checked her medical sensors. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her physically. Mentally, she wasn’t so sure. They didn’t really make a sensor for that.

Maybe the planet was getting to her, somehow. Maybe there was something in the air or the water or the ground, some sort of aphrodisiac. It might only be affecting her.

She could also, alternatively, be losing it. That was always a possibility.

What was not possible, because it made absolutely no sense, was that she was becoming attracted to Garrus. She felt it, as she’d felt it before with others – the shivers, the light-headedness, the way she got nervous and happy when he looked at her. The… thoughts. But she would simply have to ignore it and hope it went away.

He wasn’t even human. He was so far from human.

His voice, yes, was weirdly sexy. It had a timbre she’d never heard before, and sometimes when he was teasing her, it went kind of low and she thought about what it might sound like if he was on top of her, whispering her name.

Bad thought. Do not entertain.

She also liked how methodically he cleaned his rifle at night. He attended it every time they made camp – “you never want to be caught unaware by a malfunction,” he’d say. He was so meticulous in his attention, inspecting every piece. His hands were so precise with their movements. His hands…

That’s not even sexual. The rifle thing, anyway. It must be the planet.

And then there was a couple of times, when he laughed at one of her jokes, or when he needled her about her lack of knowledge about space, or sometimes when they’re both quiet, that he just looked at her. Sometimes there was something in his eyes that made her think, maybe he feels it, too.

He’s a turian. That look in his eyes could be anything.

He’s her prisoner.

But she didn’t really think like that anymore. When she looked at him, he was just Garrus. And he’s Garrus in her dreams.

It wasn't real. She had to ignore it.

---

It was around day nine or ten Earth time, or at least according to her calculations, that they discovered the cactuses.

Refining water was a bit dangerous because that’s where the cats tended to gather. They usually took turns, with the other keeping watch. Anything to cut out that process, Shepard argued, was worth a certain amount of risk. Shepard scanned the cactuses, and they definitely had some sort of liquid in them, which seemed to be non-toxic.

“Well, I’m not trying it,” Garrus said, crossing his arms.

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Look, if it’s good, then I can split the water with you and we’re both happy. If I have the first sip and I die, then you’re free, and therefore happy. Either way, we’re increasing the net happiness in the universe.”

Garrus made that weird little humph noise he did when he was sceptical. “I think there’s a couple of holes in your logic there, Shepard.”

She shrugged and cut the cactus fruit open. When she lifted it to her lips, the liquid was lukewarm but refreshingly sweet. She paused, waiting for some sort of terrible side effect. When it didn’t come, she took another small sip, to confirm a suspicion.

“I think this is alcoholic.”

“Really?” Garrus said, real enthusiasm in his voice. “Well, that changes everything!”

“What?” Garrus ran past her, towards the cactus. It was certainly faster than he’d moved when not facing extreme danger.

“I’m not risking death for water that we can find anywhere,” he said, cutting off some of the fruit – carefully, but with excitement - and storing it in his bag. “But alcohol? That’s an entirely different story.” He gave her his best turian grin: not much like a grin at all, but she knew what it meant by now. It made her feel the way she was trying her absolute hardest not to feel. “Do you know how much I’ve needed a drink?”

Shepard could certainly do with one as well.

---

She convinced Garrus to hold off on the drinking until nightfall, but as soon as they’d eaten their daily rations, he retrieved the fruit and sliced two open carefully. She gingerly took the fruit, avoiding the needles. Garrus had no need for delicacy.

“What should we drink to?” Shepard asked.

“I don’t know,” Garrus admitted, eyeing the fruit appreciatively – like he was appraising a fine whiskey in a crystal tumbler. “There isn’t really that much to celebrate. I’d say to getting off this damned rock, but the only thing that awaits me is. Well.” A slightly awkward pause. “I try not to think about it.”

Shepard had begun to like Garrus. She’d certainly begun to find him attractive. But she couldn’t untangle that from the guilt. She knew what would happen to him if she turned him in: if he was lucky, he’d be imprisoned at least until the end of the war. And there were worse things that could happen.

And she knew how to set him free.

“We’re both still alive. That’s something.”

“I suppose.” Garrus lifted the fruit. “To still being alive.”

“Cheers,” she said, and pressed the cactus against his.

Neither of them died but either the cactus liquid was more intoxicating than she’d assumed, or the field rations weren’t providing an adequate stomach lining, because they were both a bit tipsy before they finished their first drink.

“We have a game on Earth,” Shepard said. “It’s called Two Truths and a Lie.”

“I think we have something similar,” said Garrus, finishing his drink. “I guess there’s only so many drinking games in the universe. You want another?”

“Uh, sure.” She watched him unfurl his legs. Alcohol and attraction were a dangerous combination even in the best circumstances. This? Potentially lethal.

Get a hold of yourself, Shepard.

“Are you sure you want to play this game?” Garrus asked, slicing the tops off the cactuses (a little more raggedly than he had done the first ones, Shepard noticed). “What about the intelligence war? You know, you go back to your superiors and tell them there’s a race called asari and that turians are great shots and surprisingly debonair.”

That is not quite how she would describe Garrus, but if she tried, she knew she’d give the game away.

“Well, if I mention anything about Earth’s defense systems, you won’t know if it’s a lie. And wouldn’t you be embarrassed if you passed on a complete falsehood to your superiors.”

“Fair point.” Garrus sat down and handed a fruit to Shepard. “You have to go first, though.”

“Okay. First. I’ve fought a thresher maw.”

“All right.” He leaned back and mulled it over. He made a real show of thinking about it, in a kind of goofy way. She had to admit she found it endearing. “I don’t know how you’d know what one was unless you’d seen it, but it could’ve been someone else. Stolen valour.” He took a drink. “I’m reserving judgement for now. Next?”

“Second. I have a tattoo.”

“That’s boring. Lots of species have tattoos. I have tattoos.”

“OK, it’s an embarrassing tattoo.”

“That’s more interesting. And what’s the final one?”

Shepard thought for a moment. “And my name’s Jennifer.”

“Hm.” He drank again. A little too quickly – she didn’t know why. “Only one of those pieces of information could be reasonably considered sensitive. Unless it’s a tattoo of your dreadnought schematics or something, and I don’t see why that’d be embarrassing.” His mandibles tightened as he decided on his final answer. “That’s not your real name.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows. “Impressive.”

“Now you have to tell me about the tattoo.”

She was, admittedly, enjoying the nice buzz. Maybe a bit too much – maybe she wasn’t as cautious as she should’ve been. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She immediately regretted tipping her hand, but she could pass it off as a bad joke if she needed to. Luckily, she didn’t – Garrus didn’t pick up on it. Instead, he blinked and cleared his throat. “I suppose it’s my turn, then.”

Well. That was a lucky escape.

Shepard straightened herself up. You can’t let this… thing get to you. His eyes sort of glowed in the firelight. She tried to ignore it. “Yeah, it is. Better be good.”

Garrus looked down, pulled a thorn out of the cactus, tossed it into the fire. “Let me think. I’ve wanted to be in the military my whole life.”

“I thought you had compulsory service.”

“I’m not falling for your low-down dirty tricks, Shepard.”

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Garrus composed himself and sat up a little straighter. “OK, two. I accidentally shot someone at the military academy.”

“That’s gotta be true – it’s too embarrassing to make up.”

“It is, actually. It was in the foot, they were fine, but it didn’t stop everyone from calling me Misfire Garrus for a year.”

“Misfire Garrus? That’s the best they could do?”

“We’re not a poetic people, Shepard. Our greatest work of art is seven lines long and it doesn’t even rhyme.”

She couldn’t think of a person, human or not, who made her laugh like he did. She couldn’t think of anyone who took more obvious pleasure in making her laugh.

Once she’d composed herself, she said, “That last thing has to be a lie.”

“The poetry? That’s true – I wasn’t even including it in the game, but it’ll do. I lied about the military. I wanted to be…” His brow furrowed. “Actually, I suppose I shouldn’t say.” He lifted his gaze to her, maybe a little regretfully. “Like a police officer, I guess.”

“Pfft,” she said. “That’s cheating. Soldier? Cop? Basically the same thing.”

Garrus shook his head. “Not for turians, it’s not. The military’s so… restrictive. There are so many rules. The job I wanted that I can’t tell you about isn’t like that at all.” He looked into the fire for a long time. “It’s never going to happen, anyway.”

He was still the enemy. But he was also, well. Not a friend. But they could be. If things were different.

“If you wanted to walk away, you could,” Shepard said. “I wouldn’t hunt you down.”

He looked up at her suddenly, surprised. “Oh. I actually… I wasn’t thinking about that. Just…” He eyed her, warily – as if assessing her, seeing if she was still a threat. “Personal things. Before I ended up here. It… took it off the cards.”

Shepard nodded. There were plenty of things she couldn’t share with him.

“It’s good to know I’m a free man, though,” he said, clearly trying to introduce a bit of levity. “Free to wander off and get eaten, but still.”

She smiled, wryly. He drained his drink.

“You seem to be taking it all in stride,” Shepard said.

“Well, that’s the thing,” he replied. “If my father knew I was here, having a drink with the enemy… enjoying her company even… he’d kill me himself. So either way, it’s not actually all that different.”

Shepard didn’t really know anything about fathers. She’d never had one herself. But she knew people didn’t joke about stuff like that. Not even turians. She moved a little closer to him. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

He leaned towards her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get maudlin.” He bumped her shoulder with his own. “It’s really all right. This is maybe the weirdest thing I’ve ever said, given the circumstances, but I’m glad I met you.”

He was looking into her eyes and she could tell he meant it. “Me, too.” She wanted to say what she’d been hiding – but she couldn’t say that. So she said the other thing she’d been playing close to her chest. About how what she’d developed as Plan C was becoming, more and more in her mind, Plan A.

“I think we can both get out of here.” She said it quickly, so she couldn’t unsay it.

Garrus regarded her suspiciously. “What are you talking about? Was that not the plan?”

No going back now. Her heart raced – she didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the proximity, the certain knowledge that she’d be court-martialled if anyone ever found out. “Separately, I mean. I have to figure out how to get my call off first, then how to tune it so you can get in contact with the turians, but…” She gulped. She couldn’t stand how he was looking at her. Incredulous. Like he didn’t believe her. Like he couldn’t believe her. “It’s doable. And I’d be willing to do it.”

His eyes widened. “Really? You’d… really?” She finished her cactus, feeling only a little bit sick to her stomach. She thought he noticed her expression, and he frowned. Again, like the turian grin, it was only a matter of degrees. But she’d had very little to do other than observe him, and she’d gotten pretty good at it. “But that’s… if I were you, and I were to do that… Shepard, for us, that’d be treason.”

Shepard shrugged. “I think it’d be treason for just about everyone.” She looked up at him, and she felt a little better about her situation. She liked looking at him. Especially since she’d clearly caught him off guard. “But who’d ever know? As long as you don’t tell anyone.”

He nodded. “Of course,” he said, with complete sincerity.

His hand was so close to hers. She could take it. She nearly did.

“This is only if it works,” she hastened to add. “Obviously if I can’t get the palladium, or the repairs don’t take, then we’ll have to re-evaluate. But you’re not my prisoner anymore. We’re… I don’t know.” Who knew what they were to each other. “Allies, I guess.”

“I…” His voice was choked with emotion, though he tried to hide it. “I don’t know what to say. Except thank you.”

The way he was looking at her. Gratitude, obviously, but maybe… something else? The second cactus was a mistake. It made her feel like something was possible – something that should be completely impossible. For so many reasons, this was madness. Rational, logistical, moral reasons. But she found she didn’t give a damn about that. They were so close, and he… She could’ve resisted it if he didn’t look at her like that.

She kissed him.

She actually didn’t think about it beforehand, because if she had thought about it, she’d have realised how terrible an idea it was. But she kissed him: and it became immediately apparent that, even if he could have kissed her back, he definitely wasn’t. She pulled away as soon as she could, but it was too late.

Stupid stupid stupid. What had she done? She couldn’t even look at him.

“What was that?” he asked, after an excruciating moment.

Shepard felt like a child caught in a terrible lie. “I kissed you,” she said, trying to sound mature and nonchalant, but absolutely missing the mark.

He cleared his throat. God damn it, she couldn’t get a read on him at all. Probably because she had turned her head, her body, almost entirely away from him. “And could you maybe explain what that means?”

Had she actually just been asked what a kiss was by an alien? It was comical. Maybe in 500 years, she’d feel ready to laugh about it. Maybe. She’d write a memoir and send it into space and when it was found, long after she was dead, some sicko would find it real funny.

She stood up suddenly, wringing her hands on her trousers. “Sorry, I didn’t… it was a huge mistake. It’s the… Can you please forget it?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. If she was really, really lucky, he wouldn’t put two and two together. Maybe the turian vocabulary for attraction or affection was so vastly different from hers that he’d never figure out what she’d tried. Or at the very least, he’d ignore it, like she asked, and then they could spend the rest of their journey not talking or looking at each other. That would be ideal.

She looked at him. For a moment, she thought she was home free. But then she dared to meet those intelligent, alien eyes and she saw it click.

Fuck.

“Is it… a sex thing?” he asked, too astonished to be careful.

Oh no.

More considered. A bit baffled. “Shepard, do you want me?”

Oh no.

She thought it couldn’t get any worse, but then she realised she was laughing. And not normal laughing – laughing like a freak. Garrus’s eyes widened in alarm.

Oh no.

“That’s crazy! Are these cactuses going to your head? Don’t be… I mean, I would never!” She cleared her throat. Oh my god please end this sentence. It doesn’t matter how, just do it. “Anyway, we’d better get some rest. See you later… uh. Guy.”

Fuck, what even was that?

Guy??

She went to the other side of the fire way too quickly and hid under her blanket and Garrus, graciously, let her.

She’d nearly drifted off – after what felt like several long hours of reliving the whole horrible affair – when she heard steps approaching her. She instinctively grabbed her pistol.

“Hey, it’s only me!”

A few days ago, she would’ve kept the pistol. Now, she put it down. And not just because dying didn’t sound so bad right about now.

“I thought we were at least past the shooting,” he said, sitting down next to her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d be hurt.”

She wasn’t in the mood – for a lot of reasons – for banter. “What is it?” She sat up. One of those animals? No, it couldn’t be. He’d have stayed on his feet if that were the case. He wasn’t one to dally. No, this was something else. He was looking at her intently. She couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Shepard… I’ve been over there, thinking.” A moment of hesitation. “And it’s the damnedest thing.”

He touched her face, brought her gaze up to his. His eyes were… not soft, exactly. But soft for Garrus. Filled with certainty. That was reassuring because she was more confused than she’d ever been in her life.

He leaned down and his cheek brushed against hers. The moment was so deliberate, so sensual. Garrus never did anything by accident, never made a mistake.

She couldn’t believe it was happening.

His voice thick, he said to her, “I think I want you, too.”

---

The first time was strange. Lots of talking: not dirty talking, exactly, but more logistical issues. Where do you like to be touched, where do you absolutely not like to be touched, what can go where, what’s too much, what’s not enough. It had just about worked out, but it wasn’t exactly fireworks and angels singing. On paper, it was exactly the sort of thing that they should try very concertedly to forget had ever happened.

And yet.

They’d gotten up and walked the next day – what else was there for them to do? They didn’t talk about it, and it wasn’t as if things were different, apart from a few sly glances. But as soon as they stopped to make camp, Garrus dropped all his stuff and went over to her. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her the turian way, pressing his face against hers. Their armor fell recklessly to the ground – they only stopped to make a fire when Shepard became genuinely worried about Garrus’s health.

Making love to him was a compulsion. It reminded her of a book you couldn’t put down, or a puzzle that you thought about and thought about and thought about until you’d solved it in your head, until your hands were merely recreating the thing you saw so perfectly in your mind.

The second night was better than the first. Still awkward, but getting there. Definitely getting there.

The day after that, they were ambushed by another wild cat. It was smaller than the first one had been, maybe a juvenile, and they put it down without too much effort.

They had gotten about a click away from where they’d killed the thing when adrenaline got the better of them. Garrus had started it, kissing her again, without mouths but hungrily all the same, and she’d eagerly reciprocated.

“We should wait until nightfall,” she said, between gasps, not really meaning it, as he pushed her up against a tree.

“I can’t,” he growled, shoving his body between her knees, “and neither can you.”

She had to hand it to him: when he was right, he was right.

Later that night, she laid next to him, staring up at the stars. The sky here was largely the same colour in night and day – dark blue in the day, pitch black at night. It felt like they were shrouded from the world.

Garrus stretched and put his arm around her. She rubbed her hand over his forearm. “I think we’re starting to get the hang of this,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” Garrus chuckled. “It’s pretty impressive considering we didn’t have any references to work from. Maybe we should make some diagrams. You know, for posterity.”

She liked this bit as much as the sex. Well, maybe not the latest sex, but the talking and the teasing was half the fun. She’d never really felt that before.

“We’ll put it in sealed records,” she said, “only to be opened after we die.” She smiled, quite pleased with herself. “I know I can’t tell anyone right now, but I’d quite like to go down in history as the first human to fuck an alien.”

“That you know of,” he said. When she looked at him sceptically, he continued, “Apparently some of the more mischievous asari like to go hunting in pre-Contact worlds. Really hit the sweet spot of development where they might get mistaken for goddesses, or at least before anyone can collect reliable proof of their existence.” She continued to be incredulous. He shrugged. “You’ll understand when you meet them.”

She traced her finger over his chest carapace. It was warm – warm from her. She enjoyed knowing that. “Huh. This world’s so full of mysteries.”

Garrus sighed contentedly. “Indeed it is.”

She was suddenly struck by curiosity, and she leaned her head on him, looking up at the soft jawline under his facial carapace. “Have you ever…”

“With another species?” She nodded – of course he knew what she meant. “Asari, once, when I was younger,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed. “It’s different with them. It doesn’t matter what equipment you have. It’s sort of a mind meld thing.”

Shepard pulled away and stared at him. “You’re joking with me.”

He put a hand to his chest. “I swear on my mother’s grave.” Shepard still sometimes second guessed herself when trying to figure out what Garrus was feeling, but she knew a dirty smile when she saw one. “If I’m being completely honest, I like this better.”

He had to bullshitting her. “Nuh-uh, no way. There’s no way that you like this better than psychic shit with some super… sex race! I don’t buy it.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement and, maybe, affection. “First of all, I’d really suggest that you don’t call them that to their face. They’re sensitive about the reputation, and they can really kick your ass.”

“They sound more interesting by the minute. Why couldn’t I have gotten stranded with one of them?”

He gave her a sarcastic little laugh, then ran his hand (gently) through her hair. “Second of all,” he continued, seriously, “I said it, I meant it. This is better.” She must not have seemed convinced. “Don’t make me swear on my mother’s grave again.”

She kissed him, the human way, on the cheek. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, then.”

The thing is, she didn’t feel like a pervert. Sure, if she was being completely honest with herself, the fact that it was transgressive probably added to the appeal. But she’d had hate flings before, and this wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t into Garrus because he was her enemy. She liked him because he was her friend.

And that was a much more dangerous prospect. But she couldn’t let herself think about that. Not with the end looming.

---

It wasn’t long until Shepard could tell that Garrus was thinking the same thing she was. With every step they took, they were getting closer to the palladium deposit. They had maybe a day or two left.

They were walking together in companionable silence when he finally brought it up.

“Uh, Shepard?”

“Yeah, Garrus?”

“I didn’t go into… this thing we have with an ulterior motive.”

She stopped – this seemed like a conversation that they should stop for. “Yeah, I know that. I didn’t, either.” It hadn’t occurred to him that he might, although she probably should’ve. He seemed so… genuine, so guileless. And also, objectively speaking, seduction would not have been the strategy she’d have tried if she were him. He’d had no way of knowing she was a depraved alien fucker. Besides, she’d kissed him.

“I know.” He shuffled a bit, looking like a guy who’s asking for a favour he knows he isn’t going to get. “But. Look, I don’t want to ask this, but I think I have to.” He started, stopped again. Started, stopped again. He closed his eyes. “I need to know that you meant what you said about letting me go.”

It stung like a slap in the face.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Obviously things were different now. She’d given him her word. How could he not understand? How could he think that she’d do what she did with him, talk to him the way that she did, if she was going to hand him over?

She thought he knew.

“How could you even ask me that?” she said, feeling very small.

He huffed, “Oh, gee, I wonder.” She clenched her fists. Instead of hitting him, which was what she really wanted to do, she started to walk away very quickly. It wasn’t quite storming off, but it was definitely in that sort of territory. Garrus followed and called after her, “I’m sorry, it just seems like an important thing to clarify!”

“I meant what I said,” Shepard said, bitterly, not looking at him. “I haven’t figured it out yet, but we’re both getting out of here and going home. Even if you are being a real asshole right now.”

Garrus grumbled. She had begun to find the little sounds he made kind of charming, but now it had swung right back to incredibly annoying. There were about three things he could’ve said at that moment to calm her down, and instead he picked the one that made it a hell of a lot worse.

“Shepard, I like you, and I want to believe you, but at the end of the day, you’re human and I’m turian. You’re a soldier. We’re at war. We’re enemies.”

OK, now she was pissed.

She pivoted towards him, so fast he nearly bumped into her. She was seeing red. She didn’t typically let herself lose control, not since she was young, but this was different. If she’d been thinking clearly, she’d have known that she only got this mad when she was sensitive about things, that she was only angry because she knew he had every right to hate her and she really didn’t want him to, but she couldn’t line all of those pieces up in the heat of the moment.

So instead, she spat, “You know, back on Earth, we don’t typically fuck our enemies, but I don’t know if it’s different wherever the hell you’re from, you prick.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Garrus had no reply at all.

---

They walked in silence. They made camp in silence. They ate their rations in silence.

She didn’t know what was worse: how bad she was feeling, or having absolutely no idea whether he felt the same.

Shepard had sort of gotten used to them bedding down together. She wasn’t as sensitive to the cold as Garrus was, but she’d still appreciated the extra warmth. Oh, well. She began to make her bed on the other side of the fire, like she’d used to, before. So did Garrus, for a bit, before she heard him sigh.

“This is stupid,” he said, more to himself than to her. He looked over at her. “I’m so sorry for how I was earlier. Please don’t be angry with me.”

Thank God he said it first.

She went to him. “I get it. I did, you know, hold you hostage for several days. I understand why you don’t trust me.”

He held her by the arms. “That’s not it. I do trust you. Weirdly.” They both smirked. “You’re an incredible woman. Truly. If you were turian, I’d…” She hated that he trailed off. If I was turian, what? she wanted to ask, but sensed that whatever it was wouldn’t help.

“It is what it is, Garrus. We’re both going back to our lives. That’s it.”

She’d never see him again.

They sat down by the fire. She was thinking, for the first time really, about having to leave him. She knew he was thinking the same thing. She could tell by the way he held her hand, the grip a little too tight to be comfortable.

“I know you won’t betray me,” Garrus said, interrupting the silence. “I know that in my head, but when I think about what would happen to you if you were ever found out… I was worried that, at the end of the day, you’d pick your army, your people, over me. You’re a good soldier,” Garrus shook his head. “I can tell, because I was a really bad one.” Shepard nodded, not knowing exactly what she was affirming. “You’re going to go back to the Alliance, and you’re going to do whatever it was you were on your way to do when you ran into me. And I…” He was so intense, like she’d never seen him before.

“Look at me.” She put her hand on his face. She didn’t think turians cried, but that was what he looked like. “You’re right, I am a soldier. It’s what I do. But I’m not turning you in. And as for what happens after… I can deal with that.” She smiled wryly. “I always do. The only thing I’m really worried about is...” She stopped. It was too real.

“Go on,” he said, softly.

She bit her lip, calculating the chances of playing it off. But no: he’d been honest with her. She had to do the same. “I don’t know what I’ll do if they put me in battle. I have this dream, sometimes, that I’m fighting the turians.” It’s too raw, but it’s not so hard to talk to him. “I get an enemy soldier in my crosshairs, but then he turns around and it’s you.”

Then he really shocked her. He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, indignantly. Had she sounded dumb or something? Too sentimental?

“Well,” he said, “that’s very noble of you, Shepard, but that’s not going to happen.” She tilted her head, baffled. “When I ran into you, I didn’t even know where I was going, except that it was in the opposite direction from Shanxi. I couldn’t go to Palaven, the only home I've ever known. I couldn’t go to the Citadel, because I knew my father wouldn’t even acknowledge me. I’m not in the turian military anymore. I resigned.”

“What?” She couldn’t imagine Garrus quitting, for any reason – he couldn’t be a coward, or worse than a coward. “Why?”

“You remember when you asked me about why we’d done what we did, at the relay?” Shepard nodded. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I was sort of playing devil’s advocate. I’d just gotten into a lot of trouble for my real thoughts: namely, that it was a bit harsh to try and eliminate the entire navy of an alien species that didn’t know what they were doing before even talking to them.” He sort of shyly looked at her, as if to gauge her reaction. “Like I said, I’m a bad soldier. I don’t follow orders if I don’t agree with them. So I resigned.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “So, you see, you can shoot as many poor turian bastards as you like. I won’t be there.”

It took Shepard a moment to understand, and then she pulled away. “Wait a minute, you shot me down! You shot me down even though you weren’t enlisted?”

He grimaced. “Old habit?” That didn’t satisfy her. He said, defensively, “I’m not with the military anymore, but I’m not a traitor. I couldn’t have let an enemy ship into the border zone without a fight.” He sighed. “If I’d known you…”

She waved it away. “I guess I forgive you.” It only seemed fair. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to process everything he’d told her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was ashamed,” he admitted. “I don’t know what it’s like for humans, but for turians, cowardice and desertion is a social death. We don’t make principled stands for higher values – we do what we’re told. No one would ever forgive me for resigning, even if ten years later everyone agreed that the war was a terrible idea. I’m still a citizen, just about, but I don’t have anything to go back to.”

For a while, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. “Is that why you surrendered?” she asked, quietly.

“I suppose so. I guess part of me felt like I deserved it.” He looked at her, a little suspiciously. “That doesn’t mean I want to go, obviously.”

“Yeah, I thought as much.” She moved in closer to him. “For what it’s worth, I think that’s braver than anything I’ve ever done.”

“Now, now, that’s not true. I know you were worried about the teeth.”

She punched him, gently, on the arm.

“What are you going to do, then?” she asked.

He let out a long breath and stared up at the stars, as if they held the answers. “Every turian ex-soldier becomes a pirate or a mercenary. I’ll probably go mercenary. But being a pirate has its advantages, too.” He turned to her, smiling wickedly. “Maybe I could capture you this time.”

She laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

---

Later, he whispered into her hair, “Shepard?”

She grunted, sleepily.

“What’s your name?”

She grunted, confusedly.

“All I know is that it’s not Jennifer.”

“Why do you want to know?” she mumbled and adjusted herself against him.

“I might want to tell my grandkids about you or something. Humour me.”

She yawned. “It’s Jane. It’s the most boring name a human can have.” She held him closer, trying not to think about what he said about grandkids. “Jennifer’s what I always wanted to be called as a kid. Seemed more, I dunno. Interesting.”

“Ah, right.” A pause. “My family name’s Vakarian. Not that you asked.”

Shepard pressed her face against his body, and he tightened his arms around her. “Why should I? It’s not like I can look you up after this is all over.”

Her eyes snapped open when she realised what she’d said. There was a dreadful silence.

“That was too real, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, a little bit.”

It was nearly daylight. They should, barring any unforeseen setbacks, be arriving at the deposit today.

She sat up. “We’d better get going,” she said. “I don’t know how long this communicator’s going to take to repair.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Garrus said, with no enthusiasm.

---

The communicator, annoyingly, didn’t take very long to repair at all. Shepard even figured out how to make it communicate two signals without much of a delay. Now all there was left to do was to set it and go home.

“So, I’m going to set off this switch here.” Garrus was looking at her, and not at the device. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Pay attention, because I’m not going to be here to explain it again if you forget.”

“So bossy,” he said, gently chiding. “All right, I’m focused.”

“That’s going to send a signal to my CO to pick me up. He should be able to be here within a few hours, if he’s still stationed where he should be. That signal is going to be geo-specific, so it’ll continue transmitting where I am even after you take it away. Give me a good twelve hours to get out and get my people away, then you can use this switch to make a local broadcast. Will that be sufficient to get the turians’ attention?”

“I assume so but, again, I don’t know what an hour is.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to wait out another day cycle here, maybe a little less. I realise that leaves you slightly at risk from animal attacks, but it’s the best I can do without compromising my side.” Garrus was about to say something, but she cut him off. “Obviously I know you won’t shoot me down, again, but the last thing either of us wants is a skirmish between our rescue parties.”

Garrus nodded. “I understand.”

“And if anything goes wrong, meet back here.”

He mock-saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Shut up, Garrus.”

She’d miss him. She should tell him that. She couldn’t tell him that.

Shepard turned the transmitter over in her hands. Her palms were sweaty with nerves. She was about to press the button when Garrus put a hand on hers.

“Do you have to do it right now?” he asked, a little desperately. She looked up at him, and she knew instantly that had been a mistake. “I mean, can’t we… I don’t know. Get some rest first?” It wasn’t even twilight. He was so anxious, grasping at straws – it broke her heart.

“I’d like that,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She avoided eye contact. “I think we have to rip off the bandaid.”

He groaned. “Human expressions, Shepard.”

Oh, God, this was something she wouldn’t miss. “So humans are covered in hair – you know, what, never mind, the literal meaning’s not important.” She didn’t know why she was wasting her last moments with him on this trivial bullshit. “It just means it’s less painful in the long run to get the bit that’s hard over and done with rather than prolonging it.”

His brow worried and he leaned away from her. “You’re probably right.”

Her own heartbeat felt sickening.

Shepard looked at the transmitter again, as if it would somehow shapeshift into something that would solve her problem. It stubbornly refused. She closed her eyes, pressed the button, and handed it to Garrus.

“I don’t know when the ship’s going to get here,” she said, her voice flat, pointedly not looking at him. “And I don’t want them to spot you.”

He let out a long breath. “Yeah. I’d better go.” Garrus made a move like he was about to leave, but then he turned back. “Shepard?”

She looked up, despite herself.

The sun was neither low nor high. The sky was midnight blue. This weird, dangerous, hellish planet, where she had no real right to be, was strangely beautiful in its own way. She could admit that now that she had a way off. The red of the sun glinted on Garrus’s armor – he always kept it clean, when she hadn’t bothered. Because of where he stood and how the shadows fell, she couldn’t quite see his face.

Stupid. You should’ve looked earlier.

“Goodbye,” he said.

Shepard was a soldier. She lost people all the time – even people she had loved. But it had never been like this: losing someone and knowing that they’ll go on, somewhere, without you. That one day, they’ll stop thinking about you and, on a different day, you’ll stop thinking about them.

“Goodbye,” she replied.

And he walked away.

---

Shepard was picked up by the SSV Cherryh about three Earth hours later – long enough that it was probably good that he left when he did, but not so long that she didn’t wonder if he could’ve stayed, if only for a bit.

Her unusually pallid complexion was attributed to malnutrition and exhaustion; her unusually quiet demeanour was put down to shock. The only question she answered immediately during her debrief was about her transmitter; she claimed that she’d dropped it. She took in the news that the war was over, that Shanxi had been reclaimed, that there were other alien races who stepped in to broker a peace and force a turian climbdown, with surprisingly little reaction. But, then again, she’d been through a lot.

She’d smiled, a bit, when she learned that both the human and the turian prisoners (mainly captures made during the reclamation of Shanxi) had been released as part of the settlement.

They said the only thing that affected a soldier as deeply as news of war was news of peace.

Shepard was sent to quarters shortly after retrieval – the doctors had done a thorough examination and determined that all she needed was a vigorous wash, some real food and a good period of rest. She stumbled into the room, waving away assistance. “I just want to sleep,” she said.

She waited for the doors to close and the escort to walk away. She methodically turned on the shower and all the taps. She locked the bathroom door and put a towel over her face. Then she screamed as loud and as long as she could until her body wouldn’t let her anymore.

---

From the Alliance News Special Report Archive, The University of New Sydney: dated 21 April 2159 – The First Contact Inquiry

ANCHOR: Captain Shepard, known to many as the Hero of the Two Week Walk, but now a figure of controversy, delivered a shockingly critical report at the First Contact Inquiry. Shepard, having miraculously survived being stranded on an unnamed moon in the human-Turian border zone after a firefight with a turian ship in the final weeks of the First Contact War, had this to say.

[cut to: Captain Shepard (nb: female, human, 30), sitting in the Alliance Senate House]

SHEPARD: How have we handled every first contact we’ve ever had? Hostility, aggression, fear, murder, genocide. Worse. The turians behaved badly, and I’m not justifying what they did, but we don’t hate them because of what they did. We hate them because they remind us of ourselves. They have been sanctioned and judged by the galactic community; let’s do them and ourselves a favour and draw the line there.

[cut to: later in the hearing]

We have been given an opportunity to build a place for humanity in a world that’s far vaster than anything we could’ve ever dreamed. If we put our anger, nothing more than a grudge, above everything else, we will squander that opportunity. And that, frankly, is a slap in the face to the people of Shanxi, who only ever wanted to pioneer the expanses of space and find out what our species is truly capable of. We can’t figure out that potential alone, and we’d be foolish to try. Thank you.

[sound: aggressive shouting from spectators]

---

2162 – The Citadel

Captain Shepard left the SSV Octavia in the care of her second-in-command and set foot onto the first alien space station she’d ever been to. The famous Citadel.

She’d been hand-selected for this particular assignment; the difficult task of trying to negotiate intelligence sharing (strictly as related to the border zone) with the turians. She imagined it had something to do with her testimony in the First Contact tribunal, which had gotten her a lot of, mostly negative, attention. She rarely spent time near Earth anymore, partially due to death threats; she’d almost lost her then-recent promotion because of it. But, in the end, she was good at her job, and – although no one wanted to admit it – the war had scared humanity. They wanted to sweep it under the rug as best they could, the Armistice Day grandstanders notwithstanding.

Shepard was not under the impression that she was there because the Alliance was ready to embrace the turians with open arms, although she was known for the ability, unusual among humans, to read the subtleties of the turian face. She’d often been drafted in to sit in on meetings with their diplomats and afterwards tell the human politicians what they were really thinking.

Rather, she suspected that she’d been picked as a gesture because of her vocal advocacy of stronger relationships with alien species. If Captain Shepard had participated, they would claim, how could it possibly be in bad faith? (Never mind that, if the reports were true, the turians’ opinion of her wasn’t that much better than the humans’. Some thanks you get for trying.)

She’d taken the job knowing all of that. For one thing, maybe she could actually contribute; or, at least, not leave it entirely in the hands of anti-turian nutjobs. And, maybe more selfishly, she took it because it was the first job she’d ever been offered that would take her into Council space.

Shepard and the other captains arrived at around the same time. There were five in total. Two of them she knew by reputation to be reasonable people and the other two she knew personally to be bigots. It was better than she’d expected. They were greeted by an asari diplomat who would give them what she claimed was a quick tour.

There were so many people here. She’d been briefed on the major races, obviously, but it was one thing to know that you were going to be one of a very few humans among a great many aliens, and it was quite another to look around and never see another face that looks like your own. Of course, a lot of them were turian. She’d thought that she’d forgotten what he looked like, but she was certain that she didn’t see him.

Of course not – Garrus had told her that this was the one place he’d never be again. She hadn’t come here hoping for that. But at least here she could hopefully make some discreet inquiries without drawing too much attention to herself. She could at least know if he’d been recovered. Then she could finally put him in the past.

She’d felt a lot of guilt that first year after her rescue. Part of it was knowing that, if she’d taken him in, Garrus would’ve have been processed as a prisoner of war and almost immediately released back to the turians. Part of it was the paralyzing knowledge that, if she’d done her duty and not committed treason, she could’ve at least had a reasonable excuse to ask about him, maybe even learn what he had decided to do with his life. Because she’d let him go, she had no recourse to even begin to find him, not without destroying what remained of her reputation. And part of it, a large part of it, was simply how she’d left it with him.

Over time she’d come to terms with it. After all, it had always been completely impossible, and they’d both known that. Even if things had somehow worked out, there was nowhere for them to live. They would never have been able to explain how they met. Interspecies dating was a joke on Earth – she didn’t want to see what happened when it turned to hatred. There were already enough cruel jibes about her being a turian lover. She wouldn’t be able to do anything at all for human-turian relations if anyone ever learned she’d been with one.

She told herself that, almost every day, and had herself believing that’s what she’d say to Garrus, if she ever saw him again. Not that she’d ever see him again.

The tour, which had been sold as short, was in fact incredibly long and boring. The final stop was a trip to Citadel Security for a full weapons inspection and diplomatic clearance. Shepard was tired from the trip and the tour, but she knew to be on her best behaviour, so she was only a little sarcastic when the very annoying and arrogant turian cop asked her if she really needed to bring two pistols.

If she’d met more turians before she’d met Garrus, she might not have been so inclined to jeopardise her career defending them.

As they left, Shepard looked over the – what had the tour guide called them? Right, the Zakera Wards. It almost reminded her of when she’d lived on Earth, back before she’d signed up for the N7 program. A kid tried to steal something (she’d call it an apple, but she didn’t know for sure) from one of the shops. Yeah, a lot like Earth.

She looked away. She’d gone respectable now, but old habits die hard, and she wasn’t about to rat out a kid. As she turned, there was a sudden random quiet among the people, the way that happens all the time without meaning anything. But it allowed a not very loud voice to reach her.

“Aren’t you going to put that back?”

Shepard’s head snapped back, entirely involuntarily. She could see a turian in a C-Sec uniform right by the stall. She’d only just spotted him when he knelt down to talk to the kid, so she couldn’t get a good look at his face. She stood on her toes to peer over the bustle. It was very un-captain-like, and god knows what the asari diplomat thought of her blatantly ignoring the security guidelines, but she had to see his face. She had to see if she’d imagined it, like she’d done so many times before.

As if by some miracle, there was a small gap in the crowd. The C-Sec officer stood up. Their eyes met.

She could see on his face the lies he’d told himself, the ones he’d used to get through the day. She was sure they were the same as the ones she’d concocted, or similar enough. She could see how he’d dampened down his hope. And she could see it all melt away in an instant. She could feel it happen to her. It was a similar feeling to the temporary lightness everything has right after you take off your armor.

Garrus.

“Captain Shepard!” the asari said, in the tone of voice of someone who has had to say it more than once.

Shepard turned around. “I’m sorry – I was just…”

“For your security,” the asari said, in a very polite way that was not at all kind or welcoming, “you will now be escorted to your rooms. We will collect you tomorrow for the first meeting.”

“Can’t I – you know, look around?”

“Shepard,” whispered the other female captain – one of the reasonables. “You’re making us look bad.”

Great. Alienating a potential ally. Way to go, Shepard.

She grudgingly went along with the other captains. When she looked back, Garrus was gone.

---

She’d only told one person about Garrus.

Her old CO, Captain Anderson, took her out to celebrate when she earned her promotion. Anderson wasn’t only a mentor and a superior, but someone who really got her. He knew her well enough to understand that, beneath her practiced composure, she’d been a wreck ever since she’d gotten back from the crash.

“I know something happened out there that you don’t want to talk about,” he said, after a few drinks. “And if you tell me to leave it, I’ll leave it. But if there’s anything you need to work through, I’m here.”

Shepard had no idea what Anderson thought happened on that moon, but she could tell by the look on his face that the story she told him was the last thing he’d expected.

She left some things out – the sex, mainly, but also any identifying information – but she did tell Anderson the one thing she’d wished she’d said to Garrus. Just because she thought someone other than her should know: because, if at least one person in the whole miserable galaxy knew how she’d felt, how she still felt a year later, it might somehow make up for the fact that Garrus never would.

The next morning, she woke up with a wicked hangover and a vastly different Captain Anderson in her apartment.

He stood in her living room, staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “Shepard, you know I should report you for what you told me last night.”

Shepard leaned against her kitchen counter, chasing a painkiller with a glass of tepid water. “I know. It was stupid of me.”

He laughed, humourlessly. “Stupid’s one way of putting it.” He turned to her and she must’ve looked really pathetic, because his face softened. “You’re also lucky that I like you enough to forget what you said. But if you ever repeat that story to anyone ever again, you are going to lose your career.”

Her throat was dry. She swallowed – it didn’t help. “Yes, sir. I know, sir.”

Anderson went for the door, but then came back into the kitchen.

“You’re young,” he said. “And I know you feel things deeply. But you can’t let yourself become obsessed with the dream of some…” He paused, to figure out his wording. “Some man that you met in a completely unique situation.” He seemed as uncomfortable with talking about emotions as she was, which was how she knew he was genuinely worried about her. “Put it in the past, Shepard. Don’t throw your life away.”

This time, he wasn’t talking about her career.

She’d tried, she’d really had. She pretended that it was all a fantasy and forced herself to focus on reality.

But then she’d seen him in the real world for the first time. He lived here, on the Citadel; he had a job. He had an apartment, a favourite lunch place, a bar where he got a drink at the end of a shift. He talked to colleagues, he bitched about his boss, he paid taxes. He was real and so was she.

And Shepard was going to find him, even if she had to tear apart the entire Citadel with her fingernails to do it.

---

It, luckily, didn’t come to that. She told the human ambassador that she wanted to look up the guy who shot her down. She made up a story about how he’d had a Citadel memento, that she’d taken a holo of his nametag, and now she wanted to see if she could find his family and make amends. The ambassador bought it; her reputation as the lady soft on turians was finally paying off. He told her where to go.

With tactical precision, Shepard managed to find a gap in her schedule, get changed into something less conspicuous than military dress uniform, sneak past her bodyguards, and get down to the census records in under half an hour.

As she squeezed into the ludicrously small booth, the VI popped up and asked, “How can I help you today?”

“I’m looking for a Garrus who works for Citadel Security.”

“I need a family name for a search.”

She was about to say something else when she heard a shout from the other room, the voice ringing out like a shot.

“Just tell me, you stupid machine!”

Shepard left her cubicle, not caring if anyone saw her slam the door, and ran down the hall. She made it to visitor records and, sure enough, she heard Garrus – her Garrus – losing his temper with the VI in an extremely undignified way. She poked the door open. You’d think the booth would’ve been designed with turian heights in mind, but maybe census checking was more of a salarian thing. As it was, Garrus was crouching and his armor was practically scraping both of the walls. And he was very, very angry.

“There are no records of –"

He leaned over, almost into the VI, and said, in what he probably imagined was a very intimidating voice, “I am a C-Sec officer, I am looking for Commander Shepard, I know she is here, and you are going to tell me how I can find her right now or I’m going to –"

She leaned against the doorway. “What, wave some magnets over her?”

He jumped like he’d seen a ghost, hitting his head on the ceiling. She stepped into the cubicle, still not convinced that this wasn’t a particularly mundane dream.

“Shepard,” he said, like it was the only breath in his body.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. “I thought you were banished or shunned or something.”

Garrus blinked a few times, as if he was a holovid with terrible buffering times. “Oh, right. I, uh. My CO. He never filed the resignation – first he thought I might want to cool off, and then I went missing, and then the war was over.” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Alliance diplomatic mission,” she said, as if that could explain a miracle.

He was exactly the same. Shepard had thought she’d forgotten him. She couldn’t have drawn him a week ago. But she hadn’t forgotten, not really – the memories had receded a bit, gotten a bit fuzzier, because she’d stored them in a part of her mind where she couldn’t check on them every day, but now, seeing him…

“We have no record of Commander Shepard,” the VI said.

“Well, they wouldn’t,” Shepard said, with a shrug. “I got promoted. Don’t you watch the news?”

He rubbed his neck, embarrassed. “I heard about it, yeah, but I tried to avoid Earth news as much as possible. It was… kind of hard to see your face.” He turned back to the VI. “But that doesn’t mean this isn’t an utterly defective machine. I obviously tried your first name, but –” Then he stopped.

“But what?” Shepard asked, hands on her hips.

Garrus had the decency to look ashamed. “All I could remember was that it wasn’t Jennifer.”

She playfully slapped his chest. “It’s Jane! It’s one syllable, Garrus, how could you possibly mess that up?”

“All right, Captain, if you’re so smart, what’s my last name?”

See, that was the part she hadn’t gotten to with her own VI.

“Um,” she said, hating how he was getting smugger and smugger. “Batarian. No, shit!”

“Ah-ha,” Garrus said. “It was a long time ago. High-stress situation. It’s natural to forget things.”

Shepard looked at him; really looked at him. As tall as ever; maybe a little more run down. He could probably say the same about her. That didn’t matter. None of it did.

“That’s funny,” she said, stroking her hand up his back. “I remember everything.”

When he held her gaze, it was like they weren’t there, in this ridiculous booth barely big enough for one of them, let alone two. She didn’t know where they were instead, but she knew that it was just her and him. Nothing – nothing – could change that.

“So do I,” he replied, in that secret register she’d always loved. “Everything important, anyway.”

And he kissed her the turian way.

So it’d be hard. She’d never signed up for an easy life.

When they pressed their foreheads together, Shepard noticed a fractional change in his expression.

“Will you quit grinning like that?” Shepard asked. “You look like an idiot.”

If anything, Garrus grinned harder. “You first.”