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It was final.
In twelve hours, the Normandy would drop off most of her crew in Hagalaz with Liara, who would see to their safe passage to wherever they wished in Shepard’s absence. Then, without hesitation or pause, the Normandy would set course for the Sol System where Commander Shepard would release the ship, and herself, into Alliance custody.
The crew had taken the news better than she feared but worse than she’d hoped. There were far too many people to meet in the Comms Room, so she’d gathered the full crew around the Galaxy Map in the CIC. It’d felt awful to stand up on the command platform and calmly decree the plans she’d already made that impacted them all and they all had no say in. There’d been several cries of outrage, many looks of confusion, and a few scowls of disappointment. Shepard kept steady, because she had no other choice but to be calm for the sake of her crew. Despite the fact that she knew had no other recourse with the Alpha Relay, she refused to be freed from the consequences of her actions. She was willing to face the reckoning of her decisions. She just hated that her crew had to pay the price for it, too.
She apologized to the personnel that had prior affiliations with the Alliance for their likely detainment, if they chose to go to Sol. While Hackett had promised the vast majority would only be interviewed and then immediately released, she understood the crews’ anxieties. She’d told Hackett under no uncertain terms that she would guarantee only two arrivals in Sol; herself, and the Normandy SR-2. He wasn’t a fan of her decision, but he also knew there was no talking her out of it, and they both knew he wasn’t going to do anything that would convince her to not turn herself in.
When she was done, the crew listlessly filed out. It broke her heart to see the mix of emotions on their faces, but still, she remained strong and steady. She’d upended their lives a dozen times over, but still, they were staying. While some of the crew were members of the original Normandy, most weren’t, and were only technically loyal to their paycheck.
That’s not entirely true, she thought. Guilt pushed bile up her throat.. Hadn’t the Ilusive Man told her that this crew was fully aware of the risk of going through the Omega Relay? Hadn’t everyone signed on to risk their lives? They may have been getting paid more from Cerberus than they would by the Alliance, but they believed in her mission. Stopping the Collectors was worth it to these people.
Will it continue to be worth it with the Alliance breathing down their necks?
As soon as she stepped down from the Galaxy Map, lKelly grabbed her attention immediately with an influx of communication from Liara.
If I’m not in prison for the rest of my life, I have to send her a gift basket, Shepard thought amusedly as she dictated directions to Kelly to transmit to Liara. This whole plan of hers was not possible without the new Shadow Broker being willing to facilitate the transport of all crew members that would not follow Shepard to Sol. Liara had been Shepard’s first call after her conversation with Hackett, and the Asari had agreed to help any and all people without hesitation.
“Shepard, I would be doing a disservice to our friendship if I did not say this. You can run. I can find a way to prove you made an impossible choice–”
Liara was right; offering the out was the action of a good friend, but Shepard wouldn’t hear it. Three hundred thousand lives deserved more from her than to run now.
After Kelly was done, Shepard went to Joker. As soon as he turned his chair, the anger on his face nearly made her recoil.
“Thanks for turning me in, too,” Joker spat. Shepard’s heart flinched even if her body didn’t.
“I’m not the caliber of pilot you are, Joker, but I can run a pre-programmed Relay jump. Once everyone disembarks in Hagalaz, EDI and I can get the Normandy to Sol on our own,” she replied calmly.
“Are you kidding me?” Joker snapped. He looked as hurt as if she’d reached out and slapped him. “Commander, disrespectfully, where you and the Normandy go, I go,” he insisted. Oh. Shame clawed up Shepard’s throat.
“Joker, I appreciate your loyalty, but–”
“No! Don’t tell me to be rational about this! You have saved millions of lives and you’re just rolling over and taking this? Hackett knows this is bullshit! He’s a fucking fleet Admiral and he’s not standing up for you! Anderson isn’t standing up for you! It’s fucking ridiculous!” With her hands clasped behind her back, Shepard dug her nails painfully into the meat of her palms. It was the only sign she allowed to the surface that showed her agonizing heartbreak.
“Joker, I’d make the decision a thousand times over,” she explained. “I would destroy the Alpha Relay every time if I was placed in the same situation. It doesn’t change that I killed three hundred thousand people,” she said. Don’t make me say it again, Joker. Don’t make me say it again. If I think about that number anymore I’m going to lose it, and I need to not lose it right now, or everyone on this goddamned ship is going to pay the price, more than they already are.
“So Hackett gets to brush this whole situation under the rug and lie it on your shoulders when it was his favor you were doing? It’s bullshit, Shepard, and you know it!” The most difficult part of arguing with Joker was that he was right. He was absolutely correct, but it still wasn’t what she needed to do.
“I’m going with you to Sol. I’m not turning my back on you. You did nothing wrong!” Joker turned his seat away from her, cutting off the conversation. She could argue with him more, but getting the last word wasn’t useful right now. It broke her heart to sharply turn on her heels and leave the bridge, but she had to give Joker the space to be angry, even if it meant she was arrested before his anger had subsided.
Every crew member glanced nervously at Shepard as she walked past them, but no one stopped her. Kelly updated her omni-tool as she received official decisions from every crew member on whether or not they were joining her to Sol, or taking the transport from Shepard’s “trusted friend.” Only her direct squadmates, plus Joker and Chakwas, knew it was Liara who was helping them; the rest of the Normandy’s crew simply knew they were going to Hagalaz where they’d be shuttled to wherever they wished. As she checked in with every deck, names were slowly added to each list. Most didn’t surprise her. So far, Joker, Dr. Chakwas, Gabriella Daniels, Kenneth Donnelly, and Kelly Chambers were the only crew committed to heading to Sol. One by one, each of her squad showed up under Liara’s list. Shepard hated herself for the stinging feeling in her chest that continued to build.
Well, except one name. Four of Shepard’s sanctuary twelve hours had passed by, and she hadn’t found Garrus, and his name never appeared in Kelly’s lists. No one could say for sure where he was. EDI would locate him, only for him to have moved by the time Shepard caught up. As she moved through every deck to check in with all systems and operations, she buried her hurt and worry for Garrus further and further down. If he didn’t want to speak to her yet, she had to respect that.
Nearly five hours had passed before Shepard was given leave to return to her own quarters. She punched the deck code into the elevator keypad, and it hummed to life as soon as the doors closed. For the first time since she woke up from unconsciousness on that forsaken meteor, Shepard was totally alone.
Shepard pressed her palms to the cool metal of the elevator, then let her forehead fall against it. Behind her eyelids, the Alpha Relay took up her vision, growing imminently closer and closer as she’d fought for her life. The size of the relay stretched the limits of her ability to process information. How many relays had she traveled through in her military career? Had she ever been as close to one as she was standing on that asteroid? Her heartbeat violently thrummed in her ears.
A dark, slithering voice crawled from the recesses of her thoughts: you shouldn’t have survived. You shouldn’t have made it back. You’re living on borrowed time. You were brought back from beyond the dead and you will pay the price for the hubris that resurrected you.
Shepard dug her nails into her sternum until she felt the slight notch of her nails running along the deepest of her surgical scars. She pressed until she felt the sharp pain of her nails digging into her flesh, a morbid reminder of her own mortality.
“I’m alive now,” she repeated to herself, both a vow and a reminder. “I’m alive now,” she breathed into the air, both a promise and a declaration.
By the time the doors opened, Shepard’s hands fell to her sides and her spine straightened.
She stepped out of the elevator and nearly ran into the bulk of Garrus’s armor.
“Garrus,” she sighed as she reached over to scan the doors to her quarters. She hadn’t needed to see the lethal blade of his anger in his eyes to know he was angry. For all of his complexity, Shepard knew Garrus. It was a preposterous thought that she knew would sound crazy to any other person. She didn’t know if Garrus had a favorite color; if he had a preferred game of cards; what subject he liked in school growing up. However, she knew Garrus like she knew the contours of her preferred Black Widow rifle; she knew him like she knew how many scars Cerberus had added to her body; she knew he’d have her six just like she’d have his. Looking at him and seeing his icy pupils constrict in barely restrained indignation was information she didn’t need, because she already knew by the rigidity in his posture and the pace of his breath and in the way his frustration bled into the air.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he snarled as he stalked behind her into her quarters. She had half a mind to have EDI close and lock the door behind her, but Garrus was too quick for her to stop him. Shepard frowned at the door closing behind Garrus. Chakwas had given Shepard a clean bill of health–save the bruises and scrapes from being overrun by Kenson’s teams–but were there any lingering effects from the heavy sedatives she’d been dosed with?
“Shepard, what are you doing?” Of all her squadmates that knew her before Alchera, Garrus had given her the most faith in teaming up with Cerberus. His trust in her was a flame she held constant inside her chest. She kept it strong enough to warm her in the cold, lonely hours of the night. Feeling that flame dim now felt just as cold as the atmosphere above Alchera.
“If I willingly go into custody, I give you all the best chance to share what we learned about the Collectors, the Reapers, and Cerberus,” she said calmly. Shepard braced her hands against her desk and stared into the middle distance.
“So we’re all supposed to be okay with you falling on your sword?” he snapped. In the wake of the First Contact War, Alliance Training had quickly adapted to instruct their soldiers to learn about their newfound galactic neighbors. By the time Shepard had enlisted, the curriculum was intense and detailed, and no species received the Alliance’s focus more than the Turians. They were stronger and faster than humans without all of the individualism that made humanity so remarkably tenacious. Their military was unmatched, a fact the Alliance had learned that the hard way. Turians were decisive and strict in every way that humans were collaborative and lax. However, there had been one consistent thing that humans had in common with Turians.
Loyalty.
It was not the first time Melissa Shepard tactically chose her vulnerability over her pride when in Garrus’s company, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last as she looked over her shoulder at him.
“If I run, Garrus, the Alliance will be forced to use every resource to find me. It would just be delaying the inevitable,” she replied as she looked up into eyes. His visor flickered through readouts. What was her breath pattern and heart rate telling him to have the display so cluttered? Despite the distraction, Garrus didn’t move his eyes from hers.
“And if we find the proof to exonerate you?” he asked. “We can do it. Shepard, if there’s anything I’ve learned while working with you, it’s that you can find a way. We can find a way.” She would never deign to insult him to suggest out loud that he was begging for her to change her mind. It was what he was doing, wasn’t he? The realization was a heady one. Garrus Vakarian, who left C-Sec and its inadequacies in the dust, who followed her without complaint against Sovereign, who effectively pissed off every crime org on Omega so thoroughly that his head was the only suitable recompense, was begging her to think of another way. He faithfully fought at her side on the derelict Reaper and backed her up when Kaiden all but called her a traitor. He’d joined her on their suicide mission and trusted her enough to not join her on Hackett’s secret mission, and he was pleading with her to make a different choice now.
Maybe calling it “pleading” wasn’t fair, because as she looked up at Garrus, she already knew he’d respect her decision. He was doing her the courtesy of raising his concern in private, instead of yelling at her in front of an audience. Garrus was continuing to trust her, and it was that trust that was making his anger at this situation so deeply visceral.
“If I decide to go on the run, every second we spend trying to clear my name is time wasted to prepare for the Reapers,” she said. “I’m just one person. I couldn’t exonerate myself if I was alone; I’d need my team to back me up, and I won’t be selfish enough to take you all away for the sake of my pride.” Garrus huffed through his nostrils. She was close enough now to feel his exhale on her face.
“This is more than your pride, Shepard, this is–” Garrus dragged a hand down his face. His tactician’s mind was firing at all cylinders, examining every angle to come at this problem. She’d seen a similar look on his face dozens of times before. She let him process, and ignored a keening thread of her thoughts that hoped he’d find a solution. Maybe if they had more time, Garrus could find one. Hell, she was certain of it. He was a far cry from the listless C-Sec officer she met two years ago, and if he had the time, he could solve this equation.
But, they didn’t have more time, and Shepard didn’t want to spend her last few hours throwing herself–or her crew–against the wall for the sake of wishful thinking.
Garrus reached across the space between them to take her hands in his. His astute, discerning focus examined their hands entwined between them. The solemnity of this moment was almost brightened by the small show of his confidence to touch her, to bring her closer. However, the shadows of the Alpha Relay clung too tightly to Shepard, and the gentle way his talons curled around her hands, regrettably, made her skin crawl. Before she’d flown to the Bahak System, she might have teased him for so boldly taking her hands of his own accord. Maybe she would have rested their conjoined hands on her hips and leaned up to kiss him with a laugh and they’d find more stress relieving ways to enjoy each other’s company.
Three hundred thousand lives formed three hundred thousand chains around her body; there was no levity to be found within her.
However, she only had a few hours left on the Normandy. If she let herself stop moving, the weight of the past few days would catch up with her. She’d have to reckon with being overwhelmed to the point of failure–she was an N7, dammit, a Spectre, how did she let that happen?--and being sedated–just like Lazarus, just like Cerberus–until it was almost too late. Once she finally let herself rest, she’d have to remember Harbinger, and Object Rho, and the Alpha Relay, and she—
Shepard couldn’t rest yet. If her hands could not hold onto gentleness, she’d claw her fingers into desperation.
“I’ve got about seven hours,” she murmured. Garrus’s gaze flicked up to her face. Shepard freed her hands and rested her palms to the front of his armor, stepping fully in his space..
“You need to sleep,” he said. She shook her head–no, she’d been asleep for two fucking days, and it nearly cost the galaxy everything–and pulled Garrus’s face close enough to kiss him. It was dirty poker, maybe, but, well–if she was going to fly to her arrest and detention, she wanted some memories to hold onto, just for her. She wasn’t going to be selfish enough to go on the run, so she’d be selfish enough to stay with Garrus for these few hours, if he’d have her.
“I can sleep when I’m in Sol,” she replied. “I’ll need to see to the crew when we’re about two hours out from Halagaz, but until then, my time is mine.” She half-growled the words. If she wasn’t careful, her desperation would flow out of her like a severed artery.
“Mel–” Garrus didn’t give her the time to react to her nickname–one earned on the streets of Earth; a name that wasn’t the Alliance’s or Cerberus’s or the Council’s; a name that was only hers and given to a trusted few–and pulled her flush to his chest, cauterizing the bleeding in her soul. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and splayed his hands across her back. The hot, wet slide of his tongue at her throat set her nerves on fire. In one swift move, he gripped her thighs to hoist her onto her desk. Garrus pressed his advantage, spreading her legs to the point of obscenity. Shepard clawed for the latches to his armor just as he tugged at her shirt.
For two lifelong soldiers, their first time together had been almost tentative, focusing more on exploration of each other’s bodies and learning what caresses were wanted and what touches didn’t feel right. Now, they were greedy and frenzied, thoughtless and acting purely on instinct. Was it so easy to revert to this yearning hunger because they knew each other so well, or was it because they knew each other so well they were able to stoke such ravenousness in each other?
Why couldn’t they have an experience with each other that didn’t feel like a goodbye?
Garrus’s armor clanked loudly to the ground, clattering against the floor in pieces carelessly. Shepard’s shirt ended up snagged on one of her model ships; one boot, she was pretty sure, rolled into her bathroom, and the other nearly knocked into the fish tank. Her hands clung to the curves of his waist just as Garrus’s hands went to her hips. Garrus growled again, his subvocals vibrating through his chest plates. Adrenaline spiked in her body, some long dormant prey instinct briefly activating with Garrus’s strength holding her body so tightly and his razor sharp teeth so close to the skin of her throat.
More. More. More. Take it while you can. You don’t have the chance to make all the memories you want, so take what you can. Give him the memories you can, while you can, if he wants them.
Shepard pressed one palm to his chest and ran it down the midline of his chest until she was curling around his slit. Garrus cursed against the skin of her neck as she massaged her fingers to his seam. It only took a few seconds for her to feel the hardening weight of his cock against her hand, sticky lubrication leaking through to coat her fingers. His hips twitched with a stutter, pressing his cock into her hand. She stroked him hard and he thanked her wordlessly with his tongue pressing to the pulse point behind her ear.
The delirious high of unadulterated lust was just out of reach. She couldn’t quite get out of her own head and let her conscious thought fall away to the sensation of pleasure.
Take what you can. Give what you can. Shepard nudged Garrus’s head up and clumsily pressed her lips to his maxillary plates. His mandibles twitched against her face as she pulled her underwear to the side–if she took it off, he’d have to be farther away, and even a fraction of more space between them felt incomprehensible–and pressed his cock to her folds, guiding him inside her.
“Spirits, Shepard,” Garrus groaned. He adjusted his grip on her body, pressing at the small of her back with one hand and pulling at her thigh with the other. She cursed in shock of the new angle, but clung to him so he couldn’t move away. She locked her ankles around his hips and dug her fingers into the ridges of his cowl, tucking her face in the gap between his keel and neck.
Shepard didn’t have to ask him to fuck her like she never had to ask him to have her back, to support her, to watch her sightlines. She could not care less about whatever soreness she’d have later for skipping foreplay when she felt like she would have gone insane if she’d waited another second to feel him thrust inside her.
Despite this only being their second time having sex and how much they still had to learn about each other, sex was damn-near intuitive between them. When had being together ever felt difficult? Whether as friends, team members, or lovers, acting in step with Garrus felt as natural as breathing to her. His thrusts moved within her like poetry long-ago memorized and she held onto him like a song she’d known the tune to her entire life.
Sweat gathered across her skin, plastering her body to his. Shepard closed her eyes as she clung to his body. She wanted to tune out the rest of the galaxy for nothing but Garrus and lose herself in each ridge of his cock sliding out of her and be smothered by his hot, slick tongue and find any measure of peace underneath his deft, skilled hands. As she held herself to his chest, Garrus snaked his arms around her, embracing her just as tight.
However, she couldn’t stay in that moment, not when she realized Garrus was breathing too hard to just be the uneven panting of good sex. He was holding onto her too tightly, fucking her too thoroughly.Tears stung in her eyes. No. No. No. Be here. Be here. Stay here. If he needed this as half as bad as her, she could not, would not take them out of this moment.
But, she could not bring herself to leave him alone in his head, either.
“I know,” she breathed. Shepard carefully nudged him with her hands circling around the back of his neck to press his forehead to hers. “I know, I know,” she comforted.
“Mel,” he exhaled. Tears stung in her eyes. She closed them tightly, willing away her sobs–if she started crying, she’d never stop–to focus on him. Her fraught and fraying need to escape within her own lust evaporated.
“I know. I know,” she soothed. His subvocals vibrated through his chest, radiating through the contact of their bodies, warming her through to the bone. Something as ephemeral as a sound could not be trapped, but she was nonetheless settled by the idea that maybe, just maybe, she could feel more comfortable in her own body if she had Garrus’s laugh, his sense of humor, his loyalty embedded into her marrow and muscle fiber.
“I’m here, Garrus, we’re here,” she panted. She notched one of her legs into his hip spur, finding a new, deeper angle. Garrus swore against her neck and she moaned with her face pressed in his cowl. A few seconds later, Garrus came with a shuddering, shivering sigh. Shepard wished she could have followed him with her own orgasm, but she didn’t need to finish to appreciate this time together.
She slumped against her desk on her bent elbows, giving them both a little space to breathe. Garrus clung onto her for a moment like he was going to pull her flush back to him, but let his hands fall away. His cock was still deep inside her, but slowly softening. Shepard flexed her hips to free her legs from around him. Garrus groaned and he reached to immediately still her thighs.
“Problem?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose or not, but whatever you just did, you, uh, clenched around me,” he admitted in a tone that made her think he’d be blushing if he could. Shepard smirked out of the corner of her mouth and flexed her walls around him. Garrus cursed so violently her translator couldn’t pick up the words.
“Tease,” he huffed, and slowly pulled his cock out of her. The slick, obscene slide of falling out of her pulled a delicious shiver down her spine. Garrus didn’t bother hiding his smirk at her, and she swatted lazily at him with one hand.
He fell into her desk chair just as Shepard pulled her legs up to the desk, heels pressing down against the surface. Garrus kept his hands on her legs, idly massaging circles into the muscles of her calves. She leaned back against the glass partition and closed her eyes. The Alpha Relay still gleamed behind her eyelids, but the memory lost some of its color with Garrus’s hands on her body.
“I need you to know, I didn’t come up here just to try and have sex with you,” Garrus admitted quietly. Shepard sat up some to look down at him.
“I don’t think that,” she affirmed. Garrus nodded, attention fixed on his thumb against her skin.
“I didn’t–-Shepard, I trust you. If this is the call you’re making, I’ll learn to live with it, but I’m not going to like it.” She reached out to him to rest her palm to the unbandaged side of his face. Garrus nuzzled lightly against her hand, his hot breath tickling her skin.
“I’m not asking you to like it,” she replied. “I’m asking you to keep going. That’s the key to this for me. If all of you scatter to the winds and prepare your people for the Reapers, it’s just me that’s stuck in the gears. It’s only me.” Garrus’s eyes hardened, and for a moment, she knew she was looking at Archangel more than her friend. With a deep exhale, the vigilante let go of the man, and Garrus leaned up to kiss her.
Just a few minutes ago, Garrus tasted like wildfire and felt like an explosion in her hands. Now, he tasted like the grief of ten good people buried under Omega’s rubble and felt like the icy cold weight of twenty Alliance service tags. Anguish tightened in her chest as she felt sorrow tense his arms. Garrus picked her up and they didn’t hold each other for the sake of the heat between them, but embraced each other to support the weight of each other’s heartache.
Sex had never been like this for her before. It had always been drunken one-time scenarios or casual, meaningless flings. She never had time for more as a young soldier, and definitely not once she began her N7 training. Had she ever been in love, even? Kaidan was close, maybe, but most of the personal affection she had for him had grown sore on the Horizon surface. Was she in love now?
She’d never needed to be in love with Garrus to see his bone-deep restlessness in C-Sec. She’d never needed to be in love with him to fight alongside him against Saren and the Geth. Love wasn’t necessary to have the conversations they had with each other that she’d never shared with anyone before—the remarkable thing about them wasn’t if she loved him, but that she trusted him with Commander Shepard just as much as she trusted him with Mel. Remarkably, he trusted her, too. When he’d described her as his last friend in the galaxy, those words felt more significant to her than any commendation or medal or military promotion.
Soft, desperate sighs formed a melancholy melody against their racing heartbeats and the quiet bubbling of her fish tank. He laid her body onto her bed, bathing them both in swirling starlight. She wanted his body flush with hers, but he had other ideas, and she half-whimpered in protest as he stood up instead of joining her on the bed. Garrus chuckled, the noise equally filled with mirth and the past.
“I may still be learning all the quirks of how to please a human lover, but I know you didn’t finish earlier,” he commented. He pulled off his visor and set it neatly on her desk. Shepard ignored the twinge in her chest watching him cast it aside, knowing how much it meant to him. He didn’t give her much of an opportunity to linger on the thoughts, and reached for her ankles to fold her thighs to her chest. Shepard pushed herself up to her elbows to watch him kneel at the foot of her bed between her open legs.
“What, you didn’t watch all of Joker’s videos?” she teased. Garrus rolled his eyes as he slipped his hands underneath her ass to pull her even closer to the edge of the bed.
“Research and practice in the field are two very different concepts,” he chuffed. Shepard was going to continue with their banter, but he rudely interrupted her with his tongue obscenely sliding between her folds. Any quip or comeback died in her mind with the electrifying jolt of pleasure from his mouth. Garrus feasted upon her like she was his last meal, fucking her thoroughly with a devotion that felt close to divine sacrament. The pointed pricks of his talons gripping onto her ass and the drag of her thighs against his mandibles and the illicit heat of his mouth against her were all too much, too fast, overwhelming all of her senses. Would she finally meet oblivion with Garrus between her legs? It seemed like he was hell bent on hurdling them across some unidentified precipice. Was it so awful that, at least for the next few hours, she was happy to let him take them there?
Her orgasm rocked through her body like a solar flare. She arched her spine, desperately twisting her fingers into her sheets. Her voice cracked in her throat and stars exploded through her nerve endings. All through her peak, Garrus kept up with his tongue pressing into her. He pushed her through one orgasm and into another without reprieve or rest. Every inch of her skin felt as sensitive as a livewire, and just when she was sure she was about to truly, really, fall apart, Garrus pulled away. She was a panting mess in the bed, but she didn’t miss Garrus’s satisfied chuckle as he nuzzled against the inside of her thigh.
“You really know how to make a Turian feel effective at his job,” Garrus quipped. Mel rolled her eyes and weakly reached for him to join her in the bed. Entwining their arms and legs took some awkward maneuvering, but eventually, they figured it out. One arm of his was underneath her head, the other draped over her waist, while she curled against his chest. Her hands loosely rested over the front edge of his cowl, as if she was hanging onto him, to whatever was developing between them, to this fragile, fleeting moment.
The stillness of resting together eventually gave away to curious, tender caresses. Her fingers ran along every edge and divot and ridge of the plates along his cowl and chest, memorizing the planes of his body while she could. His attention started on every vertebrate in her spine, starting at the base of her neck, down to where his palm fit so smoothly against the curve of her hips. He massaged his fingertips into the slope of her waist, then glided his touch along the length of her arm. When they were too far away, they kissed lazily until their lungs were aching for air. When they needed to catch their breath, they idly watched her fish glide through their tank. Whenever she felt herself dozing off, she climbed on top of his body and found new ways to make his subvocals growl and his fingers flex their grip around her body. If Garrus’s gaze ever got too distant, he quickly returned to her and snapped his attention to focus on the way the sweat tasted on her skin. Neither of them looked at the clock, until a datapad chimed from her desk, informing them against their will it was midnight.
One more hour.
“You should try and get some sleep,” Garrus murmured into her air. Shepard shook her head and pulled away to sit up.
“Your bandage is lifting,” Shepard commented. It was too domestic of a comment for how heavy the air was in her cabin, and she wondered if she was hurting him with the blade of her words just as deeply as she was cutting through herself.
“Shepard–”
“I think I’ve got something, hold on,” she said as she darted out of his reach to kneel at her armor locker. The orange holo display switched to life as she scanned through the menus until she found the one she wanted. A drawer popped open with her spare bodysuits she wore under her armor and the supply packs she’d affix to the suits. She found the one she was looking for and found a roll of medical tape that was graded for plated, textured skin.
“Turn to the other side,” she directed. He let out a deep sigh that she pointedly ignored and did as she asked. Shepard bracketed her thighs over his waist and carefully peeled up the lifting tape along the edge of his bandage. She caught a glimpse of the raw flesh underneath and grimaced. It’d been weeks since that fucking rocket but the wound looked like he’d been hit just yesterday.
“Joker gave me the same look when he saw the other side of my face,” Garrus joked quietly. Despite herself, Shepard smiled.
“I’m not hurting you, right?” she asked as the final section of tape lifted off. Garrus hummed an affirming half-sigh, half-snort.
“No, but this isn’t strictly sterile,” he quipped as she tore off a fresh section of tape.
“Going to report me for improper medical care?” she mumbled as she gently affixed the tape. Garrus sucked in a breath through his teeth. She almost jumped back, certain she’d hurt him, but then her words clicked.
Fuck.
“Garrus–” she sighed. He shook his head.
“I don’t have to like it,” he reminded her. She swallowed hard and nodded. Quickly, she replaced the tape around his facial bandage. When she was done, she rested her palms to his chest. A thousand words spun through her mind, all of them too frantic, too rushed, too much for either of them. What hope did she have to convey all of her warring feelings in so little time? She could have decades to find the words for her grief and her anger and her sadness and her regrets and it would never be enough.
“Commander,” EMI chimed to life. This time, neither Garrus or Shepard could smother their flinch.
“Yes, EDI?” Shepard sighed.
“You asked me to alert you when there were two and a half hours until arrival in Hagalaz,” EDI replied. Irritation, bright and unforgiving, sparked in Shepard’s thoughts.
“Yes, EDI, I know, there are just under three hours, but it’s not only two and a half yet–”
“Commander, the Osun Relay, a non-anchored relay, is currently plotted at coordinates closer to the Sowilo System than previously calculated. We will be arriving fifteen minutes ahead of schedule,” EDI explained.
Shepard cracked a smile full of loss.
“Thank you, EDI. That’s all. I’ll be at the CIC in thirty minutes. Please hold all other alerts unless they’re from Liara until then,” she dismissed.
“Yes, Commander,” EDI acknowledged, and blinked out.
Silence radiated through her cabin. She should have expected something like this. The universe had already taken her life; what was fifteen minutes to the galaxy that demanded the ultimate cost she’d already paid?
“I need you to go with the crew in Hagalaz,” she said when she looked back at Garrus. His face twisted in confusion.
“I had every plan to see you to Sol,” he said. Of course you did, she thought.
“I know Liara will follow through. I know Miranda will be able to help her with any logistics to get everyone to their chosen destination. I need someone there that will think like me to guarantee everyone is okay. When I’m on my way to Sol, I need someone who can remind the crew that the Reapers are coming enough to keep them inspired enough to keep fighting but not scared enough to be paralyzed. I can’t be there. I have to go to Sol. If you’re there, though, Garrus–” Words faltered. Garrus cupped her face in his hand and she pressed a hand over his.
“I’ll be there, Mel,” he promised. Relief flooded through her veins and tears pricked in her eyes. Instead of muddling her gratitude with clumsy placades, she rested her forehead to his and let the years between them speak instead.
They cleaned up and got dressed in silence. When Shepard handed his visor back, Garrus showed her exactly how to place the band of metal under his crest to ensure it didn’t slip. When she stared a little too long at her model ships, Garrus waited patiently at her side until she found the strength to walk out of her cabin for the final time. On the elevator, in the last fleeting moments of privacy, they stood alongside each other, pressed shoulder to shoulder, fingers and talons idly curved within each other.
The second the elevator door opened, Commander Shepard left behind the ghost of Mel standing with her best friend so Garrus could maybe have the memory of her to hold onto. Kelly and Miranda had a dozen updates for her each. She could hear Mordin calling out file after file for EDI to download for him. Across the floor, Jacob was shouting final directions to technicians that were packing up any weapons and armor that was not making it to Sol. Shepard couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d seen the glinting shimmer of Kasumi’s invisibility suit flickering alongside some crates. Samara and Jack were urgently discussing something with Chakwas near the bridge. Zaaed and Grunt were nowhere to be seen, which she figured was exactly how they preferred it.
Two and a half hours left. Get them safely to Hagalaz, she thought.
“Kelly, I want you monitoring any communications from Hagalaz, Cerberus, or the Alliance. Use EDI to help you parse through the information quickly. A dozen people probably want to talk to me, but I only need to talk to Liara until we’re on our way to Sol. Miranda, I need any remaining crew that have not committed to a decision on Sol or Hagalaz to make a commitment within the next ten minutes, or they’re disembarking when we dock,” she directed. For the next two and a half hours, Shepard oversaw the remaining preparations. Her people moved swiftly and efficiently, and she could not be more grateful for it. She caught lingering stares from passing by crew and mournful, longing expressions, and she did what she could to support their sadness by seeing to their safety as completely as she could.
Ten minutes out from Hagalaz, Garrus silently took up a post at her left. He fielded questions for her from the crew that needed her input but couldn’t have her split attention and conferred with Miranda, Kelly, and Jacob when something more urgent needed her decision. As they arrived in Hagalaz, Miranda and Jacob lined up the crew that were disembarking. Shepard shook every person’s hand as they walked through the airlock into Liara’s ship. She could hear the crackle of Garrus’s comm alerting him to new reports from Liara and Glyph, but his attention didn’t waver from Shepard or her last moments with her crew.
“Is that everyone?” Kelly asked, scanning through the list of crew members who had elected–or been elected–to disembark.
“It’s not,” Garrus said while still looking at Shepard. He slung his pack over one shoulder and stepped into Shepard’s space, more intimately close than they’d ever been with other people around. Across the airlock, Miranda and Jacob were waiting to close the door. Joker, who had been briefly turned towards the line of people, circled his chair back around to his piloting displays. Kelly stepped back once, then again, nervously staring at her datapad. It wasn’t exactly privacy, but it would do.
Garrus leaned into Shepard’s space until his forehead bumped softly against hers. She rested a hand around his neck, and for the length of a single exhale, Shepard let herself cherish how close he was and how her heart eased in her chest with him at her side.
“I’ve got it, Shepard,” he hummed, then pulled away. She nodded.
“I know you do,” she replied. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this,” she promised. Shepard dutifully watched Garrus and her heartache cross the threshold of the airlock, then be sealed with the shutting of the door.