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Chapter Text

“Shepard.”

Shepard forced herself to keep her breathing even as the turian stared her down, some unconscious part of her brain telling her she needed more oxygen. His voice seemed to ripple threateningly over her name.  His gaze was impassive as he took her measure, calmly sweeping once down the full length of her body and back up to meet her eyes. His white clan markings nearly covered the dark brown of his faceplates, giving her the eerie impression that his green eyes were looking at her through a ghostly mask.

It didn’t matter that humanity had been a part of galactic civilization for almost her entire life; there was still some instinctive part of her subconscious screaming at her that he was an alien predator. She wanted to shiver under his piercing gaze, but she’d asked for this kind of assessment.

“You are going to put your best efforts forward over the next twelve weeks. Isn’t that correct, Cadet Shepard?”

The turian commander’s voice was as measured and cool as his eyes, but he obviously expected problems from her if he was even asking that question. Shepard nodded sharply; he’d soon see what Cadet Shepard was capable of. “Sir, yes, sir,” she snapped out.

“At ease, Cadet. We aren’t the Alliance Marines here.” He casually scooped a datapad off the desk in front of him and tapped it, perusing its contents. She dopped into a crisp parade rest, her hands precisely interlocked behind her back with elbows out at matching angles.

He shook his head as he read, then spoke aloud. “Born on Earth and spent time at a private academy in space before enlisting at 18. Do you come from money, Shepard? You’ll get no preferential treatment here, if that’s how you’ve advanced through the Alliance ranks so quickly.”

She stiffened at the implied insult to her hard work. “No, sir,” she said through bared teeth. “I never knew my parents; I was a ward of the state. Charity sent me to Grissom Academy, although it wasn’t in space yet. They only moved to the station this year.”

“Hmm,” he said noncommittally, tapping a few things on the datapad. “High marks in mobile marksmanship, hand-to-hand, and urban combat during basic training. ‘A gifted natural leader, negotiator, and problem-solver with unparalleled biotic ability; as such, she will seize the lead when leadership over her is weak,’ was your drill instructor’s assessment. Also, she highly recommended you for a commissioning track as early as possible.”

Shepard felt her eyes widen in surprise; she hadn’t ever seen that in her personnel files. But, then again, she supposed her own personnel assessments wouldn’t be readily available to her. She’d always thought that all of her DIs had hated her. She knew exactly which one had to have written that, and Gunnery Chief Kimani had made it abundantly clear that she loathed Shepard’s mere existence during basic. The tiny woman hailed from somewhere on the continent of Africa and had enjoyed making Shepard turn off her translator so she could cuss Shepard out in her native language while smoking the absolute dog shit out of her. Proving her wrong had been Shepard’s driving force for not quitting at some of her lowest points.

“I quote, ‘Demand the best and she will produce it every time. Keeping her enlisted would be a disservice to the Corps. If we can keep her from dying in a blaze of glory, she’ll be a general to reckon with one day.’” The turian raised his eyes from the datapad to look her in the eyes. “Well, future general or not, Cadet, you have been temporarily placed under my command. I am Captain Kryik, and I expect you to follow my orders the same as any turian officer candidate. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, not relaxing her posture, even though she felt shaken to her core. They thought that well of her? They thought she’d make general? She was a street rat that had clawed her way out of the dirty underbelly of Vancouver; generals didn’t come from places like that.

“I see that you have received the non-standard genetic enhancement to withstand the radiation on our planet. That must have cost the Alliance quite a few credits Good. I don’t have time to coddle you through radiation sickness, and I doubt you’d want to stay in your armor for twelve weeks straight.”

“No, sir,” she said automatically. She hadn’t realized the anti-rad treatment was such an expensive one. She hadn’t even known it was possible until she’d been accepted into this program.

She’d lost a precious weekend of studying to be escorted by a no-nonsense staff lieutenant from Tokyo to London. She hadn’t even gotten to see the city, just a nondescript building that held rooms of medical equipment. That included a gene therapy booth that she went into willingly enough. It had been much fancier than the one in which she’d received her basic Marine enhancements. At least the staff lieutenant had been willing to drill her on math equations while she sweated out her hours in the booth.

By the end of the treatment, she was mostly inured to the level of radiation that Palaven’s weak magnetic field would let through. She wouldn’t be able to tolerate it the way a turian did, but it would be enough for her to last twelve weeks without radiation burns and a heightened risk of cancer. It would also last for her entire life, and she’d learned early to take anything that someone was willing to give her and sort out its value later.

“Hmm, you were also screened for dextro-amino acid intolerance and cleared. I doubt you’ll find our food to your palate – nor would you derive any nutrition from it – but that’s military rations for you. You’ll be provided with either levo-amino acid rations or a levo nutritional supplement for the duration of your stay. Still, that was a good precaution in the event of any accidental ingestion. It wouldn’t kill you, but if you have any level of intolerance, it wouldn’t be a pleasant day.”

Captain Kryik studied her silently for another moment before continuing. “Welcome to Reception, Cadet Shepard. Over the next twelve weeks, you will be assessed for your potential to serve as a turian officer. Yes, despite the fact that you are a human Alliance officer candidate, you will still be assessed by turian standards. We have a 40% attrition rate, and you will be forbidden from using your biotics, so I don’t expect you to go far. In my experience, biotics rely on their abilities far too much. Take them away on the battlefield, and they’re not worth even the price of their armor.”

Her nostrils flaring was her only response. We’ll see about that, she thought savagely. She hadn’t used her biotics until she was eighteen and she’d survived far rougher things than the turians could do to her.

“In the event you are disqualified without completing Reception, you will be returned to the Alliance Naval Academy early. In the highly unlikely event that you complete Reception, you will still be returned to the Alliance Naval Academy, though I will personally write a glowing commendation for you.” The ridges on his face above his eyes shifted upwards. It was so reminiscent of a human raising their eyebrow in skepticism that Shepard took it as such.

“All officer candidates are paired into teams for Reception phase. Your grades will be identical, though your written assessments of potential will differ. I will take you to meet your partner now. You must work together as partners; you will not be able to complete the majority of the training events without each other’s help.”

Captain Kryik moved from behind his desk and towards the door. Shepard automatically snapped to attention to fall out and positioned herself on his left. He stopped and looked at her. “Did you not prepare for this?”

“I’m sorry, sir?” Shepard asked, temporarily bewildered.

“Did you read none of our military regulations? It is military courtesy to follow behind your superior, not walk next to like an equal.”

“Oh,” Shepard said, internally cringing at her mistake. “No, nothing was provided to me. When I requested it from the library at the academy, they had nothing except very unhelpful analyses from the First Contact War. There was nothing available on the extranet either. I apologize, sir; in the Alliance, we walk to the senior person’s left.”

For a moment, she thought Captain Kryik looked upset with how hard his mandibles snapped against his jaw. Being a turian, he was a little hard for her to read. “You should have been provided at least a brief. I will see to it that some appropriate reading material is delivered to you.”

She didn’t make her mistake again as he exited the room, trailing behind him as was apparently proper. The training base was practically bustling with activity, and more than a few turians cast her a lingering glance. She decided to interpret those as curious and not hostile. Her spot in the officer training course had been an open invitation from the turian military, after all, though it hadn’t been that many years since humans and turians were fighting a war against each other.

The corridors Captain Kryik led her down were all sharp angles and straight lines. It was comfortably familiar and reminded her of an Alliance military building. Some things must be universal across militaries, no matter what their species. An underlying tang of cleaning products tickled at her nose as they passed a junior enlisted turian scrubbing the floor with sponges. Kryik stopped and chuckled, his flanging voice making the sound deeper.

“Enjoying the harvest of your prank, Corporal Hyrinnus?” he asked. The turian looked up from his labor and shot to his feet to stand at attention.

“Yes, sir!” he said. He was the most cheerful sounding turian Shepard had ever heard, and she studied him covertly. He had buff brown plates with tan skin, and his face was painted with nearly the same twinning white lines as Captain Kryik’s. There was something about his face plates that seemed more relaxed and open than most of the other turians she’d ever met.

“Get back to it, then,” Kryik said, gesturing back to his abandoned sponge.

“Yes, sir!” he repeated just as cheerfully as he dropped back down. Shepard followed him as he resumed their walk down the hallway, determined not to ask despite her surging curiosity. Fortunately, Kryik tossed an explanation to her over his shoulder as they walked.

“He’s a yeoman for one of my company commanders. He rigged some very inappropriate audio to play while the lieutenant and I were having our monthly feedback session. Made it sound like Lieutenant Meritus was browsing Fornax while we were in his office. Cleaning floors was apparently worth the prank.”

Shepard almost stumbled in her stride at the utter normalcy of it. That could have been a prank pulled in any Alliance Marine unit. Maybe turians didn’t have such a stick up their asses as their reputation claimed.

“Hyrinnus was fortunate it was with me,” Kryik continued. “Most of my fellow officers take a dim view of those sorts of things. I found it humorous, otherwise Meritus would probably have found a way to boot him from the service. I know him from the small colony my mother moved us to after my father died, and his mother is an acquaintance of hers. She would be quite displeased with me if that happened.”

Oh, maybe they did deserve their reputation then.

“My situation growing up was quite atypical for a turian, however, and I don’t hold many conventional turian views. I should warn you: your assigned partner was born on Palaven and was raised by one of the strictest traditionalists I’ve ever met. Some of that rubbed off on him, though he’s very fair-minded. His mother’s influence, I’m sure. But part of the Reception phase is to see how you can get along with your partner, even if you don’t agree with them on things. I expect you’ll work it out.”

That didn’t sound good. Palaven was the turian homeworld, and they held extensive colonies in a sprawling empire. Galactic societies tended towards social conservatism towards their core. How would her partner feel about humans? What was Shepard walking herself into? Kryik’s honest openness was a little unnerving, given all the preparatory caution her liaison officer had instilled in her. Most of it boiled down to “keep your mouth shut unless they speak first, don’t get an attitude, and remember they value service and discipline above everything else.”

She wasn’t sure Kryik’s comment warranted opening her mouth, but she offered a simple, “Yes, sir,” still trailing behind him. He merely hummed briefly in response.

They continued down the corridors until they reached a large set of double doors that slid aside for them. He halted at their threshold and turned to gesture her up beside him, then held out his hand to her with his palm up.

“This is the demarcation line for the training grounds. Except for time spent in the field, you will train, eat, sleep, and exist within these confines for the next twelve weeks. Hand over your biotic amp, please.”

Shepard’s hand flew instinctively to protectively cover her L3 port at the base of her skull. She could feel how wide her eyes were at the suggestion. She expected Kryik to be upset, but he just chuckled a dual-toned laugh.

“You will receive it back in ten weeks for the Forge,” he reassured, as if that meant anything at all to her.

“What’s the Forge?” she asked suspiciously.

“The final two weeks is an extended field exercise. If you make it that far, you will be allowed to fully deploy your biotics then.”

She almost unconsciously caressed the familiar shape of her L3 port but made no move to eject her amp. She hadn’t gone without an amp in so long that it felt like a part of her. The Alliance had footed the bill for her implant when she was sixteen and shipping off to Grissom. She still wasn’t sure how the recruiting officer had pulled that one off, but he had. He had seemed like the resourceful type, so she wasn’t that surprised. He’d also procured the basic amp that kept her biotics in check until she was ready to learn how to use them. No longer causing things to randomly fly across the room had greatly improved her social life once she’d gotten to Grissom, not that Mercy had let her have much of one before.

She’d been issued the Solaris I amp on her first day at basic training and made it through both basic and Vanguard training with it. The level II amp had been issued upon graduation from Vanguard training and had quickly become one of her favorite battlefield tools. Her current level III amp had been issued to her on her first day at the Naval Academy, and she’d gotten used to its increased power over the last nine months. She was about to walk into the proverbial lion’s den, and she couldn’t imagine not having her biotics.

“Relax, Cadet,” Kryik ordered, “even officer candidates from our biotic Cabal units are required to give up their amps for this phase of officer assessment.”

“It’s proprietary Aldrin Labs technology,” Shepard said, desperately casting about for an excuse.

Kryik flexed his hand and his mandibles pressed against his jaw. “I vow it will not be examined by anyone. If you refuse to hand it over, you will be washed out immediately.”

Even with that threat, she still hesitated. He heaved something very close to a sigh and dropped his hand to his pocket to pull out a small case. He popped it open with a surprisingly delicate flick of one large finger and held it out. “I anticipated this might be an issue, and I don’t want you to fail before you even have a chance to start. Biometric lockbox configured for humans. Place your amp inside and key it with your finger. It will register your fingerprint and DNA. No one but you will be able to open it without damaging its contents. If it is returned damaged, I will see to it that we pay for a new one.”

Shit. If she refused this, she’d be kicked out immediately. Then the turians could all have a good laugh about how humans couldn’t handle anything, and no one would ever get this opportunity again. For humanity, then, she thought bitterly.

She squeezed the amp release mechanism with her fingers and pulled the it out of her port. She sighed in dissatisfaction as the warm thrum of the biotic energy seeding her nervous system lost its focus. She hated taking her amp out. Kryik held out the lockbox to her and she took it gingerly, careful not to touch his fingers. That had been part of her limited brief from her liaison: touching hands was an intimate act between close friends and family, so make every effort not to even brush up against anyone, even when sparring. Personally, Shepard wasn’t sure how she’d avoid that last part, but she’d do her best.

She gently put her amp into the padded box and closed the lid, then pressed her finger on the sensor. She watched the light cycle from green to red and a small holographic display appeared over the lock. To her surprise, it projected her name in Earth Standard.

“There,” Kryik said with a nod as she handed the box to him. “If it will assuage your fears, I also vow to keep it with me until I hand it back to you.”

Shepard took a deep breath; that would hardly help quell her fear of wading into a platoon of turians without her biotics, but it was a nice gesture on his part if he was sincere. He tucked it away into one of the small pouches attached to the armor on his upper arm. “Thank you, sir.”

Kryik’s mandibles flared as he looked down at her. “While I don’t believe you’ll make it that far, I, for one, cannot wait to see what biotic surprises you have in store for everyone during the Forge.”

He seemed almost amused. That had to be a good thing, right?

Shepard was almost encouraged by Kryik’s friendliness until he led her to a small office. The door slid aside to reveal that it contained the standard office set-up – desk, chair, computer, shelves – and one skinny turian that immediately halted his pacing to brace at attention. The turian’s plates were a silvery gray that seemed to give off a faint sparkle in places from the light from the hallway. The color contrasted rather nicely with the pale brown of his skin.

The fringe was long up top, so this must be a male turian – sexual dimorphism characteristics had been something she’d been able to find on the extranet. That meant she’d probably be stuck proving herself as capable as any male soldier. She’d had to do that enough in her career so far; she could handle it here.

“Ah, Vakarian,” Kryik said with genuine warmth in his voice.

“Captain Kryik, sir,” he said. There was some quality in his voice that made Shepard want to shiver, but she suppressed the urge. No use giving into flight-or-fight instincts this early over a voice; she would conquer her automatic prey response.

“Normally we just call out partners at the first formation, but given the sensitive nature of this one, I wanted to introduce you privately.”

“Sir?” Vakarian asked uncertainly. He had sharp blue eyes – they almost matched the shade of his face markings, she noted – and they took in every inch of Shepard’s very human body. His left eye was masked by a sniper’s visor, and she briefly wondered at what it could read in body scans. By his look as he focused on her face again, he clearly found her lacking.

“Cadet Shepard, this is Officer Candidate Garrus Vakarian. Vakarian, this is Cadet Jane Shepard. She’s our first exchange officer candidate from the Systems Alliance Naval Academy. You will be partnered for Reception. She will return to the academy after that to finish her schooling while you remain here. If you both make it that far.”

Vakarian’s mandibles went slack and his eyes became slightly unfocused. His shock was obvious, even across their species’ non-verbal communication barrier. Shepard felt her mouth go dry and swallowed hard against the sensation. She could hear the faint buzz of the lighting overhead and fixed her attention on that. She could get through this. It was just twelve weeks. It didn’t matter what this turian thought of her.

Jane Shepard had survived the streets of Vancouver as a child. She had survived the Tenth Street Reds and Mercy Smith’s abuse. She’d survived being out of her academic depth at Grissom Academy, the physical and mental challenge of basic training, and the rigors of life as an Alliance Marine. She'd survived her first year at the Naval Academy with its academic and social minefields. Jane Shepard could survive anything.

Chapter Text

The room was quiet for another moment before her new partner broke the silence.

“Sir!” Vakarian finally half-shouted. It was clearly in protest, especially when he continued. “You know my career ambitions, sir. A human partner during Reception will—”

“Prove that you can handle anything, Candidate Vakarian,” Kryik interrupted. His words were gentle, but his voice was steel. “Or it will show that you are not mature enough yet to handle being an officer in the Hierarchy. How it goes is up to you.”

The two turians stared at each other, but Vakarian was the first to break it. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, glowering at his boots. He sounded like a sullen teenager.

“If you take that tone with me after first formation, Candidate, you will find yourself with demerits,” Kryik warned. “That would hardly be fair to your partner. Hold fast to your convictions as I do, and we’ll both get where we wish.”

Vakarian transferred his glower from his boots to Shepard. Jeez, those eyes, she thought, unwilled. They were terrifying.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Excellent. Show her the barracks. First formation is in fifteen minutes.” Kryik glanced at Shepard. “Your footlocker has already been delivered to your bunk. I appreciate the formality of your reporting attire, but dress uniform off, fatigues on. First formation always ends in a significant amount of physical exercise.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she said. She didn’t mean to revert to full formality, but the tense mood in the room had her scrambling for equilibrium.

Vakarian snapped a salute at Kryik that Shepard quickly imitated. He returned it, then nodded to them both as he turned to walk away. Shepard and Vakarian were left staring at one another. The plates over his nose seemed to wrinkle as one mandible flared up and out. She kept her face as impassive as possible considering his clear disapproval.

“C’mon,” he growled as he moved past her into the hallway. She had to almost trot to keep up with him. His legs had to be a good eight inches longer than hers, and turian feet were built so that they were always on what would be the balls of a human foot. Tilting forward that way, he seemed to glide down the hallway with effortless speed.

“Dining hall,” he said, pointing at an open door on their left as they passed it. Shepard had time to briefly catch a glimpse of rows of tables and seats before they swept by.

“Showers and latrine.” The second door was closed, which was unfortunate, because Shepard really wanted to know what she’d be dealing with for the next few months. For all she knew, turians scrubbed themselves with sand to keep clean.

“Sleeping quarters. That’s your barracks tour,” he said sarcastically, walking through a third door into the named sleeping quarters. She followed as he entered, taking in the room as quickly as she could. It was a large square space lined with two-high bunks that were built into the wall, each set flanked by two wall lockers. Two parallel lines of bunks also cut through the middle of the room but left walkways on all sides. It looked like it held space for about fifty people, which made sense, since that was the initial candidate class size.

Each set of bunks already had two turian footlockers in front of each one. Vakarian led her to one in the back where her black human footlocker with its bright blue Alliance logo stuck out among the unadorned gunmetal gray of the turian ones. “This must be us,” he muttered, then glanced back at her. He sighed as he glanced at her shorter legs. “I’ll take the top bunk. Get changed quickly. We don’t have much time.”

He turned his back on her to open his own footlocker and start transferring his belongings to one of the closets. Get naked in front of a strange turian. Right, she thought, glaring at his back. She didn’t have much choice; she had no idea how far away their formation was, and she doubted she could make it to the showers and back to change with enough time to spare. Better get used to this right now instead of later when the room was full.

She popped open the other closet and was relieved to find hangers. She quickly shucked out of her dress uniform jacket – she hated the damn thing anyway – and hung it up, with pants and shirt soon following. Her dress shoes went neatly into a shoe rack built into the bottom of the closet, while her dress socks were tossed carelessly into the small laundry hamper next to it. Very efficient; reminded her of her closet set-up back at the academy, although her shoes looked comically tiny in the rack sized to hold turian boots.

She thought of her cozy room there that she shared with no one with wistful longing. It was barely more than a closet itself with just an elevated bunk over a desk in the narrow space, but it was hers and hers alone. It was the first time in her life that she hadn’t had to share living quarters with anyone, and it was glorious. Even living on the streets had usually involved piling up for warmth with a few other small bodies in whatever safe bolt hole they’d managed to find that night. Upgrading to a semi-permanent home base with the Tenth Street Reds had still meant bunking in with other street rats recruited to crime. Even after Mercy had pulled her into his orbit, she’d had to share space with him and his mercurial moods. His temper had been the most difficult of her roommates.

She shook off the memories with a shudder and focused on getting dressed. Fatigue undershirt, boot socks, pants, and jacket all went on in rapid succession. She was glad she’d packed a full set right on top in case this was necessary. Kryik had said there would be exercise, so she pulled out her most comfortable and broken-in pair of boots, the ones with the flexible sneaker soles and the laces instead of latches. She put them on, speed-lacing them the way she’d learned her first day at basic.

“Ready,” she said, but Vakarian just glared at her and kept unpacking his things. She just shrugged and did the same. If they were late, it would be his fault, and she liked to be organized anyway.

She had her locker halfway unpacked when he kicked at a spot on the wall under the bottom bunk, startling her. A wall plate popped open to reveal another storage space, which he shoved his footlocker into. “Hurry up,” he snarled.

Goddamn it, she fumed as she slammed her own shut and slid it in next to his. Thank the gods it fit. It’s his fault if we’re late! How’m I supposed to have any idea what to do here?!

But she kept her thoughts firmly to herself as she trotted in his wake once more. She needed his guidance and goodwill to make it through her first day, not to mention the twelve weeks after that. He set a hard pace, though, and she struggled to keep up. Is he doing this on purpose? she wondered. Her mind immediately cast back to the lesson in turian military decorum that Kryik had taught her and she stopped short.

“Hey. I am not your subordinate, and I will not walk behind you,” she called out fiercely. He froze for a moment before slowly turning to face her. She was getting used to his glare, but the way his face twisted and his arms crossed over his chest seemed more like a full-bodied turian sneer.

“You’re certainly not my peer, either, so what does that make you, human?” he asked, contempt coming through her translator quite clearly.

“I’m Cadet Shepard, and I’m here by your military’s invitation. ‘Cadet’ is the Alliance term for ‘officer candidate,’ by the way. In case your chain of command briefed you as little as they briefed me.”

By the way his head jerked back, she assumed her own contempt had translated just as well. Good. He deserved it.

“Then keep up, Cadet,” he rumbled, his tone dripping with disdain. “If you can.”

He turned abruptly about again and stalked off. She sprinted this time to catch up to him, then resumed her trot to keep pace at his side.

What an ass. Twelve weeks with this arrogant, entitled dipshit are going to be damn near impossible.

----<>----

An hour later, she was quite sure “impossible” was an accurate description of her chances. She’d stumbled outdoors into something that resembled an Alliance formation – except it was five rows, not four – next to Vakarian in the back row, who’d grumbled at her to use a turian pace as her spacing and not a human one. She was surrounded by forty-nine eager turians and she felt a nervous anticipation rise through her stomach.

The first twenty minutes of standing at attention were actually fairly easy. Listening to the base commander give an “inspirational” speech about those standing before him being the bright future of the Hierarchy’s officer corps was boring, but the formation part was a breeze. She’d mastered the art of standing in formation during basic; hell, she could practically sleep at the position of attention. Not locking your knees was the first key, then keeping your chin up so your eyes could drift mostly closed while still appearing to be open was the second.

She’d caught the base commander’s eyes skitter over her once at the beginning, but he never looked at her again, nor did he bring her presence up in his speech. Shepard wasn’t surprised. The First Contact War hadn’t even been twenty years ago; humans were still a bit of a sore spot for some turians. The fact that she was here had to bite deep for the older veterans, and this guy definitely looked like he qualified as one.

The next ten minutes involved the announcement of partner pairs. That didn’t excite her much either, since she didn’t know anyone around her except the partner to whom she’d already been introduced. She jerked out of position when she heard her name just after “Pylinax” was paired with “Vorinus.” There was an audible murmur as those left in the front of the formation caught sight of her moving to the front in response to the decidedly un-turian name “Shepard.”

She grimaced as she jogged to her place next to the Pylinax/Vorinus pair. Pylinax appeared to be another long-fringed male, but Vorinus had the short fringe characteristic of a female turian. Shepard had caught sight of several others, so that was a good sign. Both turians next to her recoiled from her the same way, though, and she sighed. The murmurs in the formation didn’t stop, and Shepard caught the worried tone through her translator, if not the words. No one wanted to be partnered with her. Well, they could rest easy on that part.

The relief in the remaining turians was palpable when the base commander called out “Vakarian,” and Mr. Hostility himself ran up to take station next to her. They stood in cold silence at an uneasy parade rest as the last several turian partners were announced.

The base commander – Shepard never caught his name – turned over the group to Captain Kryik and quickly disappeared. Kryik surveyed them all and shook his head.

“He may have high hopes for you, but I do not. You will be graded on everything you do here. And I do mean everything. Your grades will be identical to your partners’, so work together to reach the top. Lieutenant Meritus! Take charge of your company and weed out as many as you can on the first day.”

Then Kryik disappeared without a backwards glance and a dark gray turian in full armor with blue face paint that looked similar to Vakarian’s took over. He set them to doing relay sprints, which Shepard handled all right enough. Vakarian took a turn sprinting down 50 meters and back, then she took a turn. She was slower than the rest of the cohort, but she wasn’t too bad, and he was light enough on his feet that he making up for some of her lost time. They ended up somewhere in the top half of the rankings, which she found was constantly broadcast to all their omnitools.

Then Meritus stopped them all and had them start doing the relays with their partner slung over their shoulders. She stumbled the first time she hoisted up Vakarian’s weight. They fell to the back of the standings then, even with him able to run faster than everyone else with a human half their mass. He hissed, “Keep up, Cadet,” in her ear the second time she had to carry him, which spurred her for a bit.

This was incredibly difficult without combat armor on, or her biotics, but at least she had the standard complement of Marine genetic enhancements that let her mostly keep up. Whatever natural chest plates he had kept poking her in the shoulders through their uniforms, though. She grimly kept putting one foot in front of the other. Even if they were plummeting in the standings, she would not quit. This was only day one; she could endure much more.

It was a relief when Meritus halted them again, this time for a few rounds of push-ups. This she could do all day, and it felt like a breather. Vakarian just glared at her, even if she was matching him on this one. She glared back.

That only lasted fifteen minutes before Meritus barked out, “Water break! Instructor cadre, take over!”

Several other armored turians descended on them, yelling for them to hurry up and “finish your damn water!” Shepard just continued to take the small sips that she knew her body could absorb. Gods only knew what they had in store for them next, and she didn’t want too much water in her belly for it. She’d come here plenty hydrated and, despite the sweat pouring down her face from the unnatural heat, she didn’t need to overdo it yet.

After only three minutes of rest and water with the cadre yelling the whole time – they weren’t nearly as threatening as Kryik’s calm assurance in his authority, or even Vakarian’s angry gaze, so Shepard was able to keep ignoring them – the whole cohort was reassembled in their partnered pairs strung out in a line by precedence of their relay and push-up score. Thanks to her resurgence during the push-ups, Shepard and Vakarian were near the middle again.

One cadre member took off at the front of the line. “Follow me!” he yelled. The whole line took a stuttering stop-and-go start that was so familiar Shepard had to grin. The awkwardness of formation runs was apparently as universal across species as military interior design was. The cadre member at the front set a very slow pace that Shepard settled into easily. This was what Alliance Marines called an airborne shuffle, and they could last for twenty miles under full combat load without needing to stop because of their genetic enhancements. She didn’t know the origin of the name, but she’d trained to it for years now.

Turians, apparently, did not.

They were running a course through rough terrain that had markers at what seemed to be kilometer points, based on her estimation of their pace. By the end of the second kilometer, she and Vakarian had leap-frogged several partner pairs that were already flagging. Vakarian himself was breathing heavily and had slipped a pace back from her. “You better keep up, Officer Candidate,” she tossed over her shoulder at him. He let out a wordless snarl and surged forward past her. She grinned and increased her pace to match his.

They passed another few pairs that way, some of which had linked arms so that the stronger one pulled along the weaker one. Hmm, she’d have to file that away for the future: direct physical cooperation was allowed. If this run went on much longer, she suspected she’d have to do the same to her partner.

By end of the third kilometer, Shepard and Vakarian were at the front just behind the cadre instructor. The instructor’s powered armor let him run easily, far more easily than the officer candidates were able to while wearing unenhanced fatigues. Shepard was glad she’d chosen the boots she had; her rucking boots would have given her blisters, but these boots were ideal for running. This was perfectly manageable for long enough for her to outlast her fellow students. She wouldn’t have wanted to try the twenty-mile runs she used to do with routine regularity in basic, but she could manage this.

Unfortunately, the “fellow students” that she could outlast included her partner. Vakarian was gasping for air next to her, stubbornly refusing to fall another step back from her. She risked a glance behind her and realized the nearest partner pair was struggling at least three hundred meters back down the rocky slope she’d just traversed with ease. Damn, Vakarian must be in pretty bad shape right now.

“C’mon,” she grunted, pushing herself under his arm and trying to pull some of his weight onto her. “I got you.”

His answering growl was low and savage, but he let her support him. They continued that way for probably five hundred meters before he pulled away. It seemed to have refreshed him slightly, and the cadre instructor also appeared to have slowed his pace. They went for another few kilometers at a much slower pace – damn near walking – before the instructor stopped entirely.

Still, Shepard yelped as Vakarian had to grab her arm to stop her from crashing into the instructor’s back. He immediately let her go, and she rubbed at the spot surreptitiously. She’d probably bruise, but at least he’d stopped her from embarrassing herself.

“Oh, someone kept up?” the instructor asked, clearly shocked as he swiveled to face them.

Vakarian was doubled over and looked ready to pass out, but Shepard felt ready for at least ten more kilometers. The instructor studied them both before letting out one of those gravelly turian laughs. “The human exchange candidate, eh?”

Shepard breathed easily and went to her normal fierce parade rest. The First Contact reports had been useful for a few data points. “Humans evolved as persistence predators, not ambush predators like turians, sir. You can beat me on a sprint, sir, but you’ll never beat me over a distance. Maybe even with you in that powered armor.”

“Hmm, that I’d like to see,” he said, obvious amusement permeating his voice. Then he eyed Vakarian with some concern. “Are you all right, Candidate Vakarian?”

“I’m fine, sir,” he gasped. Stubborn ass. He looked like his heart rate was in dangerous territory.

The instructor shook his head at him. “We’re at the end course marker. You will eat field rations in that clearing over there, then return at your own pace over the same course. You may rest for as long as you wish, but your grade will be based on when you make it back to base. Remember the course; you will run it at least twice a week. Follow me.”

He led them to the clearing where a couple medics were waiting to check them. They both leapt up from the ground where they’d been perusing their omnitools, obviously not prepared for anyone to appear this early. The medic scanning Shepard looked confused and managed a flanging, “Uhhh…”

She waved him away with “I’m fine. No need for medical attention.”

The other medic quickly came over to her, though. “Sorry, I’m supposed to be seeing to you. I have some experience with humans on the Citadel,” she said, shooing the other one away towards Vakarian. Her scans turned up nothing abnormal in Shepard. Vakarian, however, needed his feet tended to and a potassium injection. She charitably contained her snicker at his expense.

Blessedly, the clearing also held stacks of field rations and jugs of water. Shepard forced herself to drink slowly again – it would be another seven kilometers back – and another junior enlisted turian brought her a meal pack.

“It’s levo, ma’am,” he said politely.

Shepard ripped it open, curious what turian levo field rats would look like. She was surprised by the quality and started eating it gratefully. She didn’t recognize the entrée, some sort of blueish protein smothered in a light green sauce, but it actually tasted…good. She shoved the included protein bar in her pocket in case she needed it later and concentrated on the rest of the food.

“It’s asari. And vegetarian, if that matters to you,” Vakarian grunted as he dropped down beside her with his own dextro ration, answering her unasked question.

“Oh,” she said, not sure what else to say. It was almost polite for him. Asari were all biotics, so the meal was probably calorically dense and exactly what she needed. It certainly tasted better than human rations meant for biotics, which tended to focus on the calories and not the flavor.

He quickly tore into his own ration – something that smelled decidedly not vegetarian – and they were both mostly done by the time the next pair stumbled into the clearing, harried by the same cadre member that had led them here. They were completely finished when a second cadre member escorted the next set in, yelling some very creative insults about the likelihood of the pair having varrens in their family tree.

“More water and then we start back?” Shepard asked him. He just grunted and stood to dispose of his trash.

They were both handed water bladders that attached to their belts when they went back to the water station. “Don’t lose these. You will not be issued another, and there are days when the water you bring is the only water you will have,” the junior enlisted turian warned them.

Shepard looked at the thing with unsurprised disdain. It could hardly be more than a liter; if she had to last on that for a day, she could, but Palaven was a nasty sort of hot for her human physiology with the elevated radiation. Despite her genetic modifications, if conditions got too rough, this wouldn’t be nearly enough for her. Oh well, bridges to cross later. At least they’d been given the warning.

She slipped an extra dextro ration bar in her cargo pocket from the supply at the table, and she and Vakarian both dutifully filled their bladders and attached them to their belts before moving out of the clearing. Shepard could feel four sets of turian eyes following them and wondered how fast a pace they should set to beat the competition. Hopefully, everyone would be too exhausted to provide any challenge, but she didn’t know how quickly a turian could recover. Seven kilometers wasn’t a lot for her, even after the earlier sprints, but it seemed to be a lot for a turian. If this was a graded event twice a week, maybe she wouldn’t do all that badly as Kryik – and Vakarian – seemed to think.

Vakarian lengthened his stride into what appeared to be a comfortable walk for him but required a light jog for her to keep up. She did so easily, structuring her breathing so she could still talk.

“Will this be enough to keep ahead of everyone?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if she actually wanted a conversation with him, but she did know she couldn’t stand losing.

He barely glanced her way. “Yes.”

They were quiet for the rest of the seven-kilometer trip. Most of the surprised glares from their classmates as they passed them in the other direction were heated, but no one caught up to them.

Once they returned to the barracks, they even showered in lonely silence, facing away from each other. The showers were much nicer than she was anticipating – and not sand after all – but they offered no privacy. They were isolated from the sinks and toilet area, but it was just two rows of shower nozzles along each wall. She was willing to forgo privacy for the blazing heat and pressure of the water, though. Why couldn’t Alliance facilities have showers this good? This was practically a massage on her shoulders.

He climbed into his bunk afterwards and closed his privacy shutters without a word of good night. Maybe that was normal for turians? She tried to be as quiet as possible as she pulled out her footlocker from under the bunk and finished unpacking, but some noise was unavoidable. His displeased grunts from his bunk let her know when she was too loud.

Forget passing the course; twelve weeks of this unfriendly silence and she might go insane.

Chapter Text

Most of the turian partners that stumbled back over the course of the night were quiet, but a few were noisy and unmindful of anyone already sleeping. Despite the partial noise isolation provided by the privacy screen, Shepard jolted awake several times at some loud sound of someone stowing gear in a locker, so she was much less rested than she’d hoped to be when her omnitool alarm went off. Without any notice of what to expect, she’d set it for 0530. She could rest in her bed after that until everyone else started stirring, which would be her cue to get up.

She dressed in clean fatigues, made her bed, set a pair of boots out, and laid back down on top of the covers to doze for a bit before a slap on her privacy curtain brought her ricocheting up and out of bed. Vakarian was standing there, already fully dressed, with his trademark glare already in place. “Get up,” he hissed, but his eyes widened when he saw her fatigues. “Did you sleep in that?” he demanded.

“No,” she snarled back and glanced at her omnitool and saw that it was almost 0630. “I didn’t know what time I needed to be anywhere, so I set an alarm for an hour ago and got dressed.”

He didn’t say anything as she climbed out of bed, pulled the covers straight, and slipped into her boots. Not the ones from yesterday; they needed to be cleaned. Her combat boots were a good compromise between running and rucking boots, so she’d picked those. After the lengthy run yesterday and the turians’ clear lack of distance running ability, she couldn’t imagine they’d be sent out on that run again.

“0630 is muster across the turian military,” he finally said, sounding reluctant to even divulge that. “Stand by your bunk and prepare for inspection.”

“Locker open?” she asked quietly.

He just glared at her with open hostility, not answering her question. His locker was open, as were several around her, including – she thought – the Pylinax and Vorinus that had been called out just before them the day before. She copied the angle of their doors. His nose plates wrinkled at her; she couldn’t smell anything from here, but he obviously could. “What is that awful stench?” he demanded.

“Humans sweat, you ass,” she said angrily, feeling an embarrassed flush creep across her cheeks. “If you’d bothered to show me any laundry facilities on your ‘tour,’ I could have taken care of it last night.”

Too late for that; the door to the barracks slid open and Captain Kryik strode through with Lieutenant Meritus on his heels. She braced at parade rest for inspection, dismissing the smell of her laundry hamper. Everything was neatly organized in there; it would either be all right, or it wouldn’t. Too late to change anything about the situation now.

Everyone had managed to tumble out of bed at get dressed before the 0630 time hack, but not everyone had been as organized in putting their things away in the hazy exhaustion of the prior day. It seemed Shepard had benefited from both the need to change her uniform and their early finish. Captain Kryik handed out demerits with steady regularity until he arrived at Pylinax and Vorinus’ set of bunks next to them. His nose wrinkled in the exact same way Vakarian’s had.

“What is that…smell?” he asked, somehow managing to capture both Pylinax and Vorinus in his glare.

Vorinus practically squeaked and inclined her head towards Vakarian and Shepard. “It’s not us, sir.”

“Two demerits for lack of composure,” Kryik said coolly.

Shepard’s felt her chin tick up in nervous apprehension, knowing she was unconsciously trying to make herself feel taller as Kryik moved to stop in front of their shared bunks. He glanced first at her, then at Vakarian. He shook his head. “Care to explain, Vakarian?”

“She smells bad, sir,” he said flatly.

Fuck, “asshole” was a much too generous term for him, she though angrily, preparing to get the ass-chewing of her life.

Instead, Kryik stepped closer to Vakarian and practically whispered in his ear. Since he was less than half a meter from Shepard, she could hear it quite clearly. “She doesn’t smell bad. Her dirtied clothing does. I expected better of you, Vakarian. Ensure she is able to use the laundry facilities every day. Four demerits.”

“Four—” Vakarian started, but Kryik cut him off.

“Six, then.”

He waved a hand as he moved off, leaning over to Lieutenant Meritus. “Humans produce something called ‘sweat,’ Lieutenant. It is a cooling mechanism that regulates their body temperature during times of activity or stress. However, it also means our exchange student needs more regular access to clothes laundering, lest this reoccur. Vakarian will be responsible for ensuring she has the proper access, since it’s obviously something he failed to brief her on yesterday.”

Shepard risked a glance over a Vakarian. His whole body was squeezed so tightly on itself that she thought he might pop. This was going to make things worse between them, so she limited her satisfaction to a brief moment. It was a very good moment of satisfaction, though it was brought to a swift end when Kryik casually said, “Two demerits, Shepard, for not asking,” as he walked by her.

She resisted the urge to huff. Not fair, she thought. Vakarian had a direct order to show her the barracks. The implied task was to show her everything, and he hadn’t. Lesson learned, though. Even if Vakarian got mad at her for doing so, she’d ask more questions in the future.

Though their eight total demerits were matched by a particularly slovenly pair that earned four each for the state of their lockers and bunks – not to mention the fact that one’s boots were unlatched on his feet – Vakarian was unmatched in his solo total.

Not that a solo count seemed to matter much, here. Kryik pointed out a holographic display by the door that had been blank last night when she went to bed. It was in incomprehensible Palaveni until she scanned it with her omnitool. It listed every partner pair by an abbreviated name – they were Shep/Vak – and four columns: demerits, score, daily score, and overall. She squinted at the board and deduced that their daily score was the precious grade that mattered. Score, she assumed, was how well they did on events, while demerits detracted from the daily score. Their daily score right now was in the negative, since they hadn’t done anything other than receive demerits yet. Despite that, they were still ranked third based on what was probably a ridiculously high score from the day before.

Message received: do well, don’t fuck up. That seemed pretty easy, or at least it would be easy if her godforsaken partner didn’t hate her.

“Lieutenant, take charge,” Kryik commanded, then disappeared as quickly as he had yesterday.

Meritus spread a displeased look equally as he paced around the room, no matter if his subject had earned any demerits or not. Shepard resisted the urge to snicker; her DIs back in basic made this guy’s displeasure look like a loving gaze. Even Vakarian’s angry stare was more intimidating. She could see why his yeoman had targeted him for a prank. For a species that usually registered as predator in her unconscious brain, he seemed remarkably unthreatening.

He stopped in front of her and let out an irritated rumble. “Why do I have to get saddled with the detritus of the galaxy.”

Shepard stiffened, but didn’t otherwise make a move. “Is there a problem, Cadet?” he practically purred at her. She stifled her outrage at his tone; at least when Vakarian said her rank in that way, his contempt seemed earned or something. Justified, maybe? The LT hardly knew her, hadn’t interacted with her at all. At least Vakarian seemed to dislike her because he thought she’d screw up his career. She could deal with that, but prejudice wasn’t something she had any intention of tolerating.

“Sir, no, sir,” she said quickly. Best to get this encounter over quickly.

“Humans,” Meritus snorted with derision, then glanced over at Vakarian. “I bet you’d love to be rid of her, Vakarian. Of course, it would get you kicked out of the program as well, so maybe not.”

Vakarian seemed to brace out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t make a verbal response, for which she was obscurely grateful.

“Not that it would matter,” Meritus sneered. “Your father would just get you back in next year.”

That baited Vakarian into a response. “My father has nothing to do with my career,” he gritted out, though he didn’t move from his position of attention.

“A lie, and you forgot the ‘sir,’” Meritus corrected softly. “Two demerits, Vakarian.”

She felt rather than saw Vakarian steel himself even harder against making a response. She braced just as hard, fighting the urge to throttle her new commanding officer. Not only could she likely do very little without biotics and him in armor, it would also get her cashiered out of the Alliance and not just the exchange program. She didn’t even like her partner, but the lieutenant was deliberately being loathsome to them both; he had to be trying to bait them into a response. Patience would see them through this, she just hoped Vakarian could hold on to his.

The three of them held in a stalemate for several tense moments before Meritus let out a happy, “Ahhh.”

He looked back and forth between Vakarian and Shepard, his mandibles fluttering in some weird expression she couldn’t figure out. “Yessss,” he drawled, “I think it’s another day of long distance.”

The audible groans around the room pulled his attention away from them, and he passed out demerits as fast as he could figure out who had made a sound. Shepard was pretty sure he was haphazard about it; Vorinus hadn’t made a noise that she could hear, but she got a demerit anyway. She inexplicably glared at Shepard when she got it.

Shepard sighed and followed the general rush out of the room to form up outside. Looked like it would be another fourteen-kilometer day.

----<>----

It turned out to be a twenty-eight-kilometer day; Meritus gleefully sent them back out for a second round when she and Vakarian returned to the base before midday. Their second round was much slower than their first.

She had yet to see what the barracks dining facility looked like from inside. On the upside, she’d squirreled away four levo ration bars from her field rats for emergencies, as well as a couple more dextro ones for her sullen partner. She had no idea if she was allowed to keep them in the sleeping quarters or not, but she honestly didn’t care at this point. Meritus seemed to have a sadistic streak to make up for his weak presence, and she wanted to be prepared if they had to go without food for a while.

It was also another silent day. Vakarian let her set a moderate pace; it was slower than yesterday and included several periods of walking that let him recover between the faster stretches. Several pairs of turians rushed ahead of them, trying to make up their score, but she and Vakarian passed them all by the time they were a kilometer into their second leg. It would have been a lot more pleasant if the day hadn’t included four legs of seven kilometers instead of the anticipated two.

Her traitorous feet also needed light medical attention after the third leg. Goddamn combat boots weren’t meant for distance like this.

Shepard noticed that the score board was short by at least four sets of names that night before she went to bed. That wasn’t too surprising, given the distance they’d been asked to cover over the last day and a half. If this went on for much longer, she might be in trouble, too. She was physically fit and ready to go, but distance running every day like this took specific training, and she was in combat condition, not endurance.

Vorinus gave another glare, this one worthy of Vakarian’s normal level of ire, before she slipped into her bunk that night. Pylinax actually closed the distance between them to quietly tell her, “Don’t worry, not all of us think humans are bad, and some of us know what he’s doing,” before he gently tapped her shoulder with a closed fist. He climbed into his bunk without another word, leaving her very confused.

It was encouraging to know that not every turian would dislike her just because she was human, but who was “he?” Vakarian? Meritus? And what was he supposedly doing?

It was too complicated for her to worry about in her exhausted state, so she mutely followed Vakarian with her basket of dirty clothes when he loomed over her and pointed at it in her locker. He led her through the door in the side wall that led back into the showers and rolled up one of the cabinet doors under a sink to reveal the promised laundry machines. Oh, thank the absent gods!

She tossed everything in at once except her boots, which she carefully washed in the sink while waiting for her load to finish. She untucked the latches and spread out the supporting sides, scrubbing deep into the crevasses of fabric. Both sets should have time to dry overnight; ballistic footwear was pretty easy to maintain as long as you kept up with it. She was unaccustomed to Palaven’s heat, and it was making her sweat buckets during the day.

At least the anti-rad gene therapy has the bonus effect of no sunburn, she thought to herself. That had been a perpetual problem for her whole life with her fair skin. Basic training in Brazil had been miserable.

These boots should stand up to repeated washings for years, though; they’d see her through the next twelve weeks. She could put in a requisition for more sets when she got back to the academy if she really needed to.

Well, eleven Palaveni weeks and six Palaveni days. A Palaveni week was eight 28-hour days, so she got some bonus sleep time every day to recover from the ridiculous temperatures, but it all added up to an extra 4 weeks of Earth time. She’d had to waive any summer leave from the academy to do this program and had to complete her first-year exams two weeks early to get to Palaven on time.

She didn’t have any family to visit, so the leave wasn’t an issue, but the accelerated coursework had presented other problems. Her professors had been nice about it, even if her classmates had been contemptuous. Gods, why was math so hard? Why did they have to make fun of her for that, of all things?!

So what if she kicked their collective asses in the combat training arena? She’d been an enlisted Marine Vanguard running missions for three years in the Attican Traverse, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention two years at Grissom Academy – which involved plenty of tactical wargaming, since it was one of the Naval Academy prep schools – and an unmentionably large number of years surviving on the streets of Vancouver before that; the combat arena and its squad tactics came as naturally as breathing to her at this point.

Yeah, she couldn’t go back there in shame. Not from here, and not over the truly dumb shit some of these turians were trying to pull.

She was not quitting this for anything.

She was startled out of her spiraling thoughts by a three-fingered hand on her shoulder.

“Um, Shepard?” a dual-flanging voice asked. It was pitched higher than she was used to from the yelling cadre, Meritus, Kryik, or Vakarian. How depressing, she thought as she ran down the list.  All the jerks here are guys.

Okay, maybe Kryik wasn’t a jerk. And the cadre were just doing their jobs, which left Meritus and Vakarian. At least she could rank her so-called partner above the lieutenant. And maybe Vorinus was on the jerk list while Pylinax wasn’t, so that was something.

The turian that she whirled to face was most definitely not a guy, which explained the higher pitch of her voice. She whipped her hand away from Shepard’s shoulder and held it up, palm out, with her other. “Hi, sorry,” she said quickly.

“No, I’m sorry,” Shepard said automatically. “I don’t…react well to being startled.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” the other turian said, just as automatically. “You were scrubbing the same spot on your boot when I came out of the toilet as when I went in. You didn’t even seem to notice me washing my hands, so I figured I should see if you were okay.”

Shepard gave a surprised look at her boot. Oh, she hadn’t realized.

“Oh, thank you, yeah,” Shepard stuttered out, taking a larger swipe at a different part of the boot. “I was just…distracted.”

She carefully put down her boot brush and inclined her head to the female turian, who was apparently just trying to be polite.

“I’m Jane Shepard,” she said by way of introduction, although the turian clearly already knew at least her last name.

“Velatus Galen,” the turian replied, nodding back. “My friends call me Vel, but everyone goes by last names here.”

Shepard wasn’t sure if that was an invitation to friendship, but she made the assumption it wasn’t. Turian friendship had to be a lot harder to earn than just being distracted while cleaning your boots. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

Vel studied her for a moment, then offered, “This isn’t my first time at officer candidate training. If you need anything, even if it’s just to talk to someone, let me know.”

The kindness of her offer froze Shepard in place with surprise. Other than Kryik’s understanding of her nervousness over losing her amp and Pylinax’ weird comment, that had the be the first nice thing anyone had said to her since she’d arrived. She opened her mouth to try to summon a reply, but the door to the hallway opened and the same turian she’d seem scrubbing floors her first day here bobbed in behind a cart of cleaning supplies. Corporal…Hyrinnus, that was it.

“Oh, sorry, laaaadies,” he drawled when he caught sight of them. Her new maybe-friend Vel/maybe-not-friend Galen looked at him, the plates of her face seeming to scrunch up in disapproval at his appearance.

“Hello, Corporal,” Shepard said quickly. “Here to clean the latrines?”

“Always the best extra duty!” he cried, his mandibles flaring. “At least you officer candidates keep it relatively clean on your own. Have you seen the showers on a troop carrier after its ground teams get back? That’s a true punishment!”

Shepard couldn’t help the laughter that spilled out of her mouth. She’d been on many returning ground teams, so she understood completely. There was usually a lot whooping, hollering, and general disregard for propriety or order when human teams came back from surviving near death; she’d heard there was even less propriety among turians. Strictly rumors, of course, but she could imagine an awful lot to fill in the absent footnotes of her knowledge.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” she said, letting her mouth keep a quirk up on one side. “Never snagged an extra duty for clean up, but I’ve been on the other side a time or ten. On behalf of all messy ground teams everywhere, regardless of species, we’re sorry.”

Hyrinnus chuckled in that odd turian way, but Vel just stared at Shepard. Shit, maybe she should shift that to Galen. Maybe being friendly with the enlisted side was verboten in turian officer culture. Had she crossed some arbitrary unknown line with the only turian other than Pylinax who had seemed even remotely nice? Damn her lack of information. And double damn her supposed guide’s sour reluctance to provide any actual…y’know…guidance.

Shepard hurriedly cleared out the now-clean-and-dry small load of laundry into her waiting basket and dumped her boots on top, ignoring their dampness. “We can get out of your way, Corporal.”

She quickly slipped past Hyrinnus through the door that led directly to the sleeping quarters, leaving both turians in complete silence as the door slid shut quietly behind her. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, then flushed when she realized she wasn’t the only one that was breathing deeply. The unmistakable sounds of sex were coming from the bunk two meters from her head. Goddamn, at least when human Marines did that, they didn’t have the brazen nerve to try it in the bunk room with others around!

She scurried past the closed bunk shutters as quickly as she could but had to rush by two more bunks on the way to hers that were emitting similar sounds. Was this normal for turians? She didn’t think she’d find it written down anywhere, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to search the extranet for that when her connection went through the turian network. Maybe Vakarian would answer if she asked and seemed embarrassed enough about it.

Gods, why did turians have to be so strange?

Chapter Text

The 0630 muster was much more pleasant the next morning, even if Shepard was a little tired after her late-night cleaning session. At least she knew what to expect and when. She and Vakarian only earned a single collective demerit for the faint scent of wet boot that clung to her locker. She couldn’t smell it, but judging by Vakarian and Meritus’ cringing nose plates, it was there. Guess she’d be getting one of those every day she had to clean her boots, since there wasn’t anything she could do to dry their padded insides any faster. Putting them in the laundry machine on dryer mode would ruin their external ballistic finish.

She wagered on no running for the day – for real this time; far too many of their fellow partner pairs were positively drooping – and chose her combat boots. She was grateful for it when dummy rifles were shoved into their hands as soon as they stepped outside. Vakarian earned another demerit for talking in formation when he started muttering quiet insults over how poorly she was handling her rifle at attention and parade rest. He resumed his unfriendly silence after that and she got no more unintentional, if rude, pointers.

Which meant they collectively got three demerits when they were yanked out of a marching formation that she had absolutely no clue how to follow. The commands were nonsensical to her Alliance-trained brain. She was glad for nothing more than three demerits and a rough command from the cadre instructor for Vakarian to correct the issue before lunch.

She put up with his arrogant and impatient attitude for thirty minutes before losing her temper with him. Honestly, she was impressed that she’d lasted that long.

“Goddammit, Vakarian!” she finally snapped. “I can put on a full Alliance pass-and-review ceremony with a thousand troops on an hour’s notice, but I have not been steeped in your military parade shit since I was fifteen! You’d had years of experience, but I’ve had an hour!”

“I’m only nineteen, human. I spent the first year in training, but the rest has been on ship duty doing actual work as far away as possible from the spectacle and spirits-forsaken nonsense that is military drill. So, pay attention,” he barked back.

Damn, she’d suspected he was young, but she hadn’t realized he was that young. No wonder he’d sounded like a petulant teenager when they’d been introduced; he was one. She supposed they might be close in relative age because of the difference in their calendars if he wasn’t giving his age in galactic standard, but from what her liaison had said, turian officers were generally not identified for training until they’d had at least ten years enlisted experience. Humans tried to identify their enlisted high performers with officer potential earlier, or train and commission them directly, but turians preferred to select tested and experienced enlisted soldiers to become officers. She’d led Shepard to believe that she’d be surrounded by turians older and much more experienced than she was.

She suddenly better understood his sensitivity at Lieutenant Meritus’ dig at his father’s involvement in his career. To be selected for officer training six years ahead of the normal schedule would certainly open him up to accusations about favoritism if his father stood high in the Hierarchy. She felt an wave of understanding sympathy for him, but she wouldn’t let it detract from her problem here.

“And I’m only twenty-two. Humans don’t start military service until eighteen, so I’m sure you can do the math on our relative experience,” she retorted. “Give me the command and explain what I should do before you demand perfection from me. Maybe display it yourself first.”

Vakarain looked taken aback by the idea. “But…you should have this all memorized already,” he protested.

“Why the hell would I have turian drill and ceremony memorized?” she asked incredulously. “No one gave me the first clue about what to expect when I got here! I tried to research on my own before I left Tokyo, but your doctrine is all heavily restricted.”

“Well, of course it is. We wouldn’t just share it with everyone,” he said, sounding just as incredulous as she did. Did he not hear the contradiction in his worldview?

“Va-ka-ri-an,” she said, pronouncing each syllable of his name deliberately, “how the hell would I memorize doctrine that I have not been allowed to read.”

Watching the dreadful realization settle over his face was almost enjoyable. His jaw seemed to come nearly unhinged, and his mandibles were so slack that their dangling tips almost touched his neck. She rapidly memorized that expression for future use as a personal morale boost – fuel for when he was being infuriating – before he could collect himself.

He regained his composure quickly and flicked her a file from his omnitool. She glanced down at her own and accepted it, noticing it was overwriting an identical file that Captain Kryik had sent her…shit, a day and a half ago. She flipped through all the files quickly, realizing Kryik had flashed her a significant amount of what looked like standard turian military doctrine and regulations.

Crap. She should have checked for this yesterday. To be fair to herself, she’d been a little distracted with a long-distance run. She also couldn’t have memorized the specific regulation she hadn’t known she needed for today, no matter when she saw it, so she looked back up at Vakarian with her best mask of cool composure.

“Read that for the next hour and let me know when you think you’re ready for the basics. Spirits, my gizzard is so cooked,” he muttered. He sat down on the ground and started scrolling through his own omnitool without looking at her.

She bit back another snarky comment and sat down next to him, her back pointedly turned to him, and started skimming the dauntingly large file labeled Hierarchy Training Circular 3-21.5 – Drill and Ceremony. She would make it through this if it killed her.

----<>----

Fortunately, no sacrificial death was required. They didn’t even finish at the bottom of the daily score tally. There were a couple other turians who had a case of two left feet even worse than Shepard did, and nothing their partners did could coach them out of it. Their overall standing dropped down to fifth, but it didn’t matter; she’d barely registered their catapult to first the day before, so it didn’t sting.

Vakarian obviously felt it, since he started pretending that she didn’t exist again once they hit the showers after the day spent marching in Trebia’s burning light. Her legs ached from having to stretch out her steps to match the length of a turian stride.

At least she found out what the dining facility looked like, even if she had to sit across from a partner that ignored her. It turned out to have a strict seating arrangement – he’d hissed at her and pointed at a particular seat when she tried to sit elsewhere – and she was stuck in a virtual conversation vacuum. She was seated next to the somewhat friendly Pylinax, but Vorinus growled from across the table every time she tried to talk to him, so that avenue for conversation was closed.

Food was served by junior enlisted turians, but Vakarian hissed at her again when she tried to tell them thank you for the pre-dinner glass of wine. She must be a goddamn protocol embarrassment to get this many disapproving hisses. Maybe she could make an effort to collect as many as she could in one night?

Ha, that sounds amusing, she thought as she downed almost the whole glass of wine in one go. It certainly sounded better than sitting here in dead silence, with the delightful bonus that it seemed to upset Vakarian. She thanked them again when they refilled her wine and served the soup. His features scrunched up in the most hilarious way at that.

She thanked them again they cleared her soup bowl from the table and topped off her wine again. He just hid his face in his hands this time. The wine was quite good; it must have been levo and not one of those bastardized achiral concoctions. Pure ethanol itself was achiral, but the other ingredients in typical alcoholic drinks were not. She’d sampled wine before that was marketed as safe for both levo and dextro, and it had tasted awful. Someone here in logistics deserved her thanks as much as the servers did.

When she thanked them for her entrée, Vakarian seemed to crumble in on himself. Yeah, this was good.

She thanked them again when they cleared her entrée plate from the table and topped her wine again. Even Pylinax was shifting a little in discomfort at that point, and he’d been nothing but affable and polite. Maybe this was too far? Nah, these turians could stand a little over-the-top human manners.

She started to thank them when they brought a dessert, but a familiar three-fingered grip on her shoulder cut off her words. “They grade everything,” Vel – Galen? Whatever – growled in her ear. “Stop making a pyjak of yourself.”

What the hell was a pyjak? Hmm. If her new maybe-friend also thought she was behaving badly, she probably should stop. Even if it did seem to get Vakarian riled up worse than anything else had before.

She finished the dinner in a silent reserve that matched Vakarian’s. She was proud of her self-control when she somehow did not spew the whole table with the post-dinner brandy that was absolutely the grossest alcohol she’d ever tasted. It had to be dextro, since no one else seemed to do anything but savor it. She sipped it in quiet formality and nodded at her partner when she finished it and rose with as much grace as she could muster.

She wanted to be over a toilet if she had to throw the disgusting drink – and probably the whole dinner with it – back up.

----<>----

Shepard was very grateful the next morning when she found out that it was the turian weekend, and the formal dinner of the night before had preceded a standard half-day of rest for those in military training. She would have been happier if she’d known about it before 0630, which was when she found herself the only person out of bed and in uniform standing for muster. She could have sworn she heard a turian snicker from the bunk above hers before she dropped back into her own, but she decided to ignore it in favor of nursing her raging headache. She hadn’t thrown up the turian brandy, but she was regretting that fact now.

She awoke two hours later to find that she’d missed breakfast, but she couldn’t find the will to care. She gnawed on a ration bar in her bunk as she read through the turian regulation on protocol, grimacing when she found that thanking a subordinate for their service was considered bad form. A polite nod was the highest praise for quality service, but anything beyond that – especially a scandalous verbalization! – was considered an insult. Turians valued duty and discipline, and thanking someone implied that they were doing something that wasn’t expected as part of their service.

Oof, okay, no more of that. She loved provoking Vakarian, but she didn’t love the idea of insulting the junior enlisted turians who had no way to poke back. Also, she may have been a little inebriated from the wine; she hardly ever drank, and she’d lost track of how many glasses she’d had. Letting alcohol magnify spite was always a bad call, no matter how much a particular someone might deserve the spite.

She glanced at the scoreboard and realized their points from yesterday had bottomed out. Had Vel been serious about the grading thing? Did they actually grade them on their propriety during dinner?! What a weird way to assess potential officers. The Alliance took the view that you could train manners, but you couldn’t train battlefield instinct, so the instinct was to be prized above all as a foundation of trained skill.

Which was good for Shepard, because she’d had no table manners to speak of coming from the streets. Her time at Grissom Academy had given her a thin veneer of surface polish, but being enlisted in the Marines for over three years meant she lost it all again. Fortunately, the academy didn’t care until your final year when all seniors had to take a seminar on formal functions to qualify for commissioning. She mimicked the polite manners of her classmates to get by, but she had no vested interest in the finer points of decorum.

She should probably start taking notes for the next poor fool to get suckered into this summer tour. She started tapping on her omnitool.

1. Don’t expect any help from your partner, especially if he’s a mouthy little tall shit.
2. Oh yeah, you’ll be assigned a turian partner that you have to rely on for everything. See note 1 about how that will go. Your grades are the same, so don’t wash out just because your partner does.
3. You’ll get the crap smoked out of you on day one with sprints, but it ends with a distance run that you’ll definitely win. Make sure you drag your partner along; your win won’t count if you don’t.
4. No biotics. They make you turn over your amp. If you have one, just do it.
5. They grade everything, and I mean everything. Learn turian table manners.
6. Read all the turian doctrine you can get your hands on. I’ll get them to the academy library.
7. Memorize the drill and ceremony one. It’s stupid, but it’ll help.

Hmm, that was all she could think of for now. Oh, wait.

8. Turians seem to have a lot of sex openly. Don’t get weirded out.

She’d have to leave it at that until she could figure out what was normal for turians. For all she knew, there were several established couples that ended up in the same cohort. She wasn’t sure she wanted to explore turian romantic and sexual norms, but she was already suffering through this, so she may as well do whatever it took to make it easier for the next human.

Speaking of which, there were two turians engaged in what looked like pretty heavy foreplay three bunks down on the far wall. She tried to observe unobtrusively, but she’d never been one for subtlety and ended up staring. It was definitely two male turians, although she didn’t know their names. The bunk below them was occupied by a single female turian, who didn’t appear to notice what was happening above her. Shepard didn’t know how she couldn’t; the noises they were making were audible, even from here. Which meant she probably did notice and just didn’t care.

One of the male turians caught her eye and his mandibles widened at her. She felt her cheeks flush and quickly shifted her gaze down at her omnitool. When she risked a glance back up, they had shut the privacy curtain, which blocked some but not all of the noise.

Vakarian was fussing over something at his locker but dropped down into a crouch to glare at her. “It’s rude to stare, human,” Vakarian said softly, but his voice was hard. It made her shiver when he took that tone. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was fear or something else.

“I have no idea what’s rude and not rude, turian, since no one will give me any guidance,” she said back just as quietly. “Why is looking not okay when we can all hear what they’re doing just fine? Is it normal for turians to hook up like this?”

He looked at her in bafflement, his head cocked to one side. “‘Hook…up?’” he asked.

“Human idiom,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Must be lost in translation. I’ll rephrase. Is it normal for turians to have this much random sex?”

His baffled look remained. “Of course. Casual sex is perfectly normal. Is it not for humans? This is a stressful selection process, so it will happen more often. What isn’t normal is staring, so stop.”

“But they’re not exactly trying for privacy,” she protested.

“It’s polite to give visual privacy, especially in close quarters like this,” he said in a disapproving tone. “After your performance last night, you’d think you could at least listen to me on this one.”

“Last night would have been easier if you hadn’t just hissed at me, you pointy turian bastard! How am I supposed to learn what’s polite from that?!” she growled at him. He just glared at her, so she continued in a low, heated tone. “I had to read this morning from some regulation on turian etiquette that thanking someone for service is rude. But, just so we’re clear, not thanking someone is rude for humans. I’m stuck in an upside-down world here, and I don’t know what I haven’t been taught!”

“Then read more, you frail human bitch. I’m certainly not going to read it aloud for you,” he snarled.

“If you want to pass, you’ll help me,” she snapped back.

He gave her an exasperated look but no reply as he launched himself up to his bunk with a powerful spring. She could hear him slam his privacy shutter closed, so she rolled backwards onto her bed to do the same, her frustration rattling the thing loudly in its frame.

Fuck, what was she doing here?

Chapter Text

The afternoon turned out to be weapon issue and maintenance. Vakarian seemed pleased when he was handed a sniper rifle of some sort and immediately started breaking it down at a weapons bench without waiting for her. Thankfully, she was handed a shotgun by a private who shifted nervously on his feet behind the cage. She realized it was the same private that had brought her the levo field rations the first day, so she nodded politely in thanks.

“It’s a Hurricane,” he said, pointing at the label on the side. “They’re manufactured by Elanus Risk Control Services. Your file said you were something like close-quarters infantry, and I don’t know what you have in the Alliance military. I tried to choose something that might be similar to what I thought a human infantry officer would carry.”

“I’m an offensive biotic, which is not exactly straight infantry, but you got my preferred weapon type right. I use the M-22 Eviscerator shotgun, and I don’t think you have them here. This will be more than adequate, private,” she assured him.

“Yes, ma’am. We also have the Katana from Ariake Technologies and the Avalanche from Armax if you don’t find the Hurricane to your liking, ma’am.”

“Oh, I’ve tried the Katana before. Do you recommend the Hurricane over that one?” she asked. He nodded vigorously, his nervousness disappearing at her question.

“Absolutely, ma’am! It’s my personal preference. It’s automatic, and the other two are bolt-action. I greatly prefer the hex spray pattern, too! The Avalanche shoots one bullet, which gives it overwhelming power, but I want a shotgun for area coverage, not power. And the Katana does an x pattern, which means it can be easy to miss something that isn’t right in front of you.”

Well, he was certainly passionate about his work. Shepard suppressed her first instinct to tell him thank you and settled for, “Excellent advice, private. Carry on,” instead as she stepped aside to make room for the next person in line. He seemed gratified, so she took it as a win.

She set the shotgun down on the bench next to Vakarian’s – there looked to be enough benches for everyone remaining, but she figured that’s what was proper – and started to examine her new shotgun in detail. The catch to break the barrel away from the lower receiver didn’t seem to be in the same place as the Eviscerator, but this was a much less beefy gun than what she was used to. She wasn’t even sure if she was looking in the right place on the lower receiver or if it was hidden in the pistol grip the way the Katana’s was. She fumbled around for a few moments before a gloved three-fingered hand reached into her field of vision and popped a hidden clasp under the barrel.

She glanced up at Vakarian, but he had refocused on his own weapon before she could catch his eye. Oh well, at least he had done something helpful for once. She turned back to the Hurricane and examined the catch, feeling it out and closely examining the mechanism. She relatched the barrel and practiced popping it open and closed several times before moving on to figure the rest of the weapon out.

She could figure this all out.

----<>----

There was a much less formal dinner that night that involved a lot more talking and a lot less alcohol. Vorinus actually let Pylinax talk to Shepard without growling at her, and Vakarian even contributed a grunt or two to the conversation. Vel caught her eye from across the room and gave Shepard an approving nod, which gave her an oddly disorienting sense of guilt over her behavior the day before.

She spent that evening reading the technical manual for the Hurricane, which the private had slipped to her on an optical disc on her way out of the armory, and the turian combat training circular that covered range operations, which Captain Kryik had sent over in his initial batch. She was not going to rely solely on Vakarian’s sporadic and insulting help when it came to live-fire ranges. Nothing would get her kicked out faster than mishandling a weapon loaded with live ammo.

Fortunately, safety techniques were another thing that seemed to be common across species, so the only new things she had to learn were how turians ran the range itself. She’d only seen the armory, so she wasn’t sure if it would be an indoor or outdoor range, but she studied both to be sure. They surely wouldn’t step up to live-fire ranges that involved movement techniques until they’d done those, so she saved those protocols for later.

They were delayed from their range time by another inspection from Meritus at the morning muster. Enough people hadn’t done their laundry during their downtime the day prior that he pretended to be furious. He completely lost his temper – she thought this one might be genuine – when he got to Shepard’s bunk and found that her hairbrush had a few strands of red hair in it. She rolled her eyes as he held it aloft in a screaming rage and sent them out to do the fourteen-kilometer course. As if he even knew what human hair was or how to maintain it. Thankfully, she managed to swap her combat boots for her running boots in the general rush for the door.

She and Vakarian were back before noon as usual, but the last person didn’t cross the finish line until well into the afternoon, so any potential range time was definitely out. They were back to weapons maintenance for the rest of the day, and she had company that evening for her daily laundry session. She even exchanged a few words of greeting with one male turian that didn’t have any face markings. He seemed nice enough, if quiet. He didn’t offer his name, though, so she didn’t either.

They finally hit the range the next morning: indoor weapons familiarization, fortunately. Even better, she got to spend time apart from her sour partner, since they grouped by weapon type for this one. Pylinax favored the shotgun as well, so she spent a pleasant morning trading different shotgun techniques with him while alternating time on a lane with another turian. It didn’t take long for his sociable nature to pull everyone else into the conversation, and they even managed to get a few Vanguard stories out of her.

“Wait, you use your biotics offensively?” one of them gasped. It was the turian she was sharing a lane with. He’d introduced himself as Kyratus, but because they were swapping out on the lane, he hadn’t heard anything until her third story.

It was the stupid one about the time she accidentally hurled herself into a stack of heavy ammo crates on a biotic charge during training and nearly managed to blow herself up. It had seemed like the natural point in the conversation to make herself seem more a fool than a hero. The first two had been about the time she saved a squadmate with a pinpoint biotic throw and the time she charged into a krogan mercenary and managed to get off a shotgun blast into his neck at point-blank range. That had been messy, but it got the job done; he’d bled out before whatever krogan equivalent to bone marrow was able to regenerate enough blood for him to survive.

“Of course,” she said, confused. “Why wouldn’t I? They’re my most powerful weapon. I’d take them over my shotgun if I had to make the choice. I know you have turian biotics; don’t they use their biotics offensively?”

There were a couple other indrawn breaths, but Pylinax chimed in with support. “Haven’t you all seen asari commando vids? Just because turians only use Cabal units for barriers doesn’t mean that’s the only way to deploy biotics.”

Wait, turians only used their biotics for defensive barriers? Shepard was mystified by that. Sure, biotics could be used as a basic combat multiplier by providing barriers for others, but it was a waste of the other half of their skills. Linking a good non-biotic squad with a Vanguard or Sentinel was a popular technique in Alliance combat doctrine, and it was even better if you were able to add a highly specialized biotic Adept. They required a lot of protection, but the biotic combo detonations were well worth the cost.

“I once saw an asari C-Sec officer take down a charging krogan with nothing but her biotics,” a third turian said in a hushed tone. “I’ve still never seen anything like it.”

“No way, Josinae!” Kyratus said excitedly. “Tell us?”

“I’ll tell you tonight,” she said, pointing at the cadre instructor headed over, probably to see why they’d all stopped firing.

Shepard grinned and resumed her stance on the firing line. She’d almost forgotten what camaraderie felt like, and this was pretty damn close. She hadn’t expected to be treated like a peer by anyone, but Pylinax had eased her into the group so smoothly that she’d hardly noticed their first few fumbling moments of awkwardness. These must all be turians that felt the same way about humans as he did. It was certainly refreshing to be out from under the perpetual grumpy rain cloud that was her partner.

When it was time for her to swap out on her lane with Kyratus again, she cleared her shotgun, attached it to her belt, and took a water break. Despite the full water bladder hooked on her belt next to her shotgun, she still went for water at the central point. She didn’t trust that they wouldn’t be sent off on some ridiculous training mission that she’d want to be prepared for. The protein bars in her pocket were there for the same reason. Preparation was drilled into all Alliance Marines at basic, but the streets of Vancouver had already taught her the hardest lessons when it came to the essentials: always have access to water and food.

She could see the sniper group farther down the line as she took sips of her drink. She almost didn’t recognize Vakarian because of how untroubled and happy his expression was; his face plates were so relaxed he would have looked like Hyrinnus, except for the different colors. He moved with unrestrained grace behind the scope of his sniper rifle, and she could tell even from here that he was good. Like, really good.

Turian indoor ranges had lights over each station to indicate the accuracy of a hit. It gave a graded color from green to yellow to red to indicate how closely the shooter had hit what they were supposed to aim for. Vakarian’s was never anything other than pure green. Of course, hers was the same, just at a much closer range.

Damn, she’d love to see what his ranged support could do for a close-engagement specialist like her. She’d had a couple good snipers on her squads before, but never anyone that could hold a candle to what he was doing. Indoor range shooting didn’t necessarily transfer to skills in the field, but she had a feeling his did after watching how smoothly he handled his weapon and body.

“Spirits, I hope you make it to the Forge,” a flanging voice said in her ear, startling her. She spun to find Pylinax at her elbow, looking in the same direction as she was. “No one’s taken out more than half of the graduating cohort in a long, long time. At least a decade, I think. With his range and your shotgun, I bet you’re going to give them a real challenge, especially if you’re half as good with your biotics as you claim. They won’t know what hit them.”

Other than Kryik telling her it was two weeks in the field, no one had actually told her what the Forge was yet; it just hung as some nebulous threat in her future. The only positive thing she knew was that it meant she’d get her biotic amp back. Maybe this was a good opportunity to gather some intel. “The graduating cohort?” she asked.

“Yeah, the ones hunting for us,” he said, as if that clarified anything.

“I don’t actually know what the Forge is,” she admitted. She’d been hesitant to bring it up with Vakarian, but Pylinax was being downright nice to her.

“Oh,” he said, looking down at her. He had blue eyes like Vakarian, but they weren’t as piercing. His brown face plates worked under their light gray colony markings as he looked at her. “The last two weeks of Reception are a survival test out in the field. There’s this remote area we’ll get dropped off at and told to survive. The only catch is that the cohort that’s about to graduate will be hunting us, and they’ll have a nice compound to rest in with plenty of food, weapons, and supplies. We have to manage with what we carry in. Most of us won’t last more than a few days, and surviving the full two weeks is almost impossible.”

“What do you mean they hunt us?” she asked. That sounded even more ominous than she’d thought.

“Everyone wears sensors, even the hunters, and our weapons are loaded with simunitions that trigger them if you score a hit. Physical attacks work, too, but it takes a bit more, so traditional tactics say avoid them. The sensors lock up your armor if you ‘die,’ and you’re eliminated.”

“Wait, we have to survive that just to make it through training?” she asked incredulously. “How do the turians manage to graduate any officers?”

“Oh, no,” Pylinax laughed. “You don’t have to make it through to graduate. If you’ve made it to the Forge, you’re pretty much guaranteed to move on. There’s a lot of personal pride attached to how long you stay active or how many of the senior cohort’s members you take out, though. Both increase your grade, so there’s that, too.”

Shepard’s mind started to churn over the new information and categorize it into facts and extrapolate assumptions without conscious effort. Tactical mission planning had occupied a couple weeks during basic, then became a skill exercised constantly in the field. Strategic mission planning had been a whole semester-long course in her first year at the academy. The process was practically automatic for her now.

Fact one: turians treated it as a competition. Typical. Fact two: the hunters from the senior cohort could be disabled. Fact three: physical attacks would work. Physical attacks had to be stronger than normal, so they were avoided. Fact four: turians only used biotics defensively.

Assumption one: the senior cohort was highly likely to work together because, unless there was some close competition between a couple or few individuals, their grades were virtually set that far into the course. Assumption two: the senior cohort expected the junior cohort to compete with each other for points; it would not occur to them that any of the partner sets would work together in larger groups. Assumption three: the senior cohort wouldn’t expect offensive biotics.

Conclusion: these facts and assumptions could be exploited with proper planning that emphasized cooperation in her cohort and use of her biotics.

“Pylinax! Shepard! Back to the line!”

Shepard’s train of thought lurched off its track with the unexpected interruption. She looked over to the shotgun group and saw their cadre instructor waving them back over. She’d have to devote more thought to the problem of the Forge later. She hoped that her distraction wouldn’t cost her any points today and glanced back at the snipers as she trotted to her spot. Vakarian was staring at her, and his face was pinched and displeased again.

Damn it.

Chapter Text

After another casual dinner, Shepard was surprised to see Kyratus enthusiastically waving her over to a set of bunks on the far side of the room that had several footlockers dragged around it as makeshift benches. She started guiltily when she realized it had been the bunk where she’d been caught staring at the two turians engaging in some pretty heavy sexual foreplay. It wasn’t Kyratus’ bunk, but she felt a stab of worry when she realized why he’d seemed vaguely familiar on the range. He’d been the one that had met her eyes and…smiled?

Yeah, after today, she was pretty sure that a turian widening their mandibles like he had done was a smile. He’d definitely smiled at her when he caught her watching. She also finally placed Josinae, the one with the story about the asari C-Sec officer, as the female turian who had been completely unconcerned with what had been going on above her. Gods, this was going to be awkward.

Josinae introduced her to her partner from the upper bunk, a shy male turian named Justus who mumbled a hello and immediately went back to watching Kyratus hold court. Shepard didn’t need a turian body language translator to read the pining in his face. Poor guy; Shepard had caught Kyratus flirting on the range with Vel, although she didn’t seem that receptive. He’d just moved on to the next turian down the line, like he was working his way through the cohort.

Eh, turians, she mentally shrugged to herself.

“Hey, Josinae!” Kyratus called. “Finish that story about the asari commando!”

“Asari C-Sec detective,” she corrected.

“Yeah, whatever. I bet she was a commando before,” Kyratus said with a laugh.

“No, she was pretty young. She told me her father was a turian, so she chose to do the C-Sec thing instead of the bar dancer or merc thing that most asari maidens do,” Josinae said. “I was on the Citadel on one of those exchange tours with C-Sec.”

Most of the other turians in the circle – Shepard counted five: Justus, Kyratus, Pylinax, Vorinus, and the turian without face markings she’d exchanged a polite greeting with the night before – briefly glanced at Shepard before looking back to Josinae. Instead of continuing, she turned to Shepard herself and explained, “We can volunteer to do six months with C-Sec while on active duty to see if it’s something we’d rather do to fulfill our fifteen-year service obligation to the Hierarchy. That way nobody makes an irrevocable decision to get out early that they end up unhappy with.”

“Fifteen years?!” Shepard asked with a gasp. Humans had no obligation for service at all, and even the lowest enlisted member could request a separation from service if they really wanted one before their contracted commitment was met. The Alliance usually let them go with a “did not complete” stamped on their record. They could even apply to rejoin later to complete the term and receive their honorable discharge, along with the government benefits that came with it. It just wasn’t worth it to keep someone in who didn’t want to stay.

“Every turian has to serve fifteen years to get beyond the lowest citizenship tiers. You aren’t a full citizen until you graduate basic, but there’s dozens of higher tiers you can achieve,” Josinae explained. “A lot of people from the colonies choose not to go into service, but no one who hasn’t completed it can hold any higher office or take employment from the Hierarchy. It’s almost unheard of for a Palaven-born citizen not to complete the fifteen years, unless it’s on a family exemption. That’s when a woman applies to get out to have children.”

She shifted in her seat and looked around the circle before continuing. “We do basic training on every colony, but being sent here to Palaven for officer training is pretty prestigious, so a lot of us are probably even bound for a double fifteen-year term. I don’t know if anyone will do a triple. Maybe your partner. He’s the only one in here with the lineage for it, which is why Meritus is giving you both such a hard time.”

“And I’m sure me being human has nothing to do with it,” Shepard said, rolling her eyes. “What does Vakarian’s family have to do with anything?”

She glanced back at their bunk and caught sight of him sitting on his bed and reading on his omnitool. Despite the fact that he was angled in their direction, he was very carefully not looking at any of them.

“Oh, I’m sure your species is also a factor for the lieutenant. Some turians are still upset over the whole Relay 314 incident and think we should have been allowed to subjugate you as a client species.” She gave a weird turian snort at the idea. “Absolutely ridiculous. You didn’t know we were even out here, so why should we have expected you to follow Council law?”

Shepard was surprised to see several turian heads bob in agreement around the circle. She was even more surprised to hear a couple quiet murmurs of an echoed “ridiculous.” Pylinax met her eyes and nodded his head vigorously as he muttered “completely illogical.”

“When it comes to your partner, though, turians disavow nepotism or anything but rising through the ranks on your personal merits. You can bet Vakarian’s father has been training him since he was a kid to be the best, but some people like Meritus think he’s gotten an unfair boost and consider it preferential treatment.” Josinae shook her head. “The Vakarians are an old and proud clan with a lot of advantages in life, but you couldn’t give me enough credits to have been born into that kind of expectation.”

“Plus, it would suck to be disowned for running off with an asari or something. I’ve never met anyone wound that tightly before; he’s obviously about to explode and do something really wild to rebel. Spirits save us all from traditionalists!” Kyratus interjected dramatically. “Setting the fascinating political discourse aside, can we get back to the story now?”

Josinae gave him a decidedly frosty look. “Come on, Kyratus, part of being on exchange is learning new things. Let Shepard learn a bit.”

“Let Shepard learn about how an asari took down a krogan with just biotics!” he wheedled. “That’s some learning for her, since she is a biotic and all!”

“I am kind of interested,” Shepard admitted. “We can have a better one-on-one later, Josinae, if that’s all right?”

Josinae’s mandibles flared in a smile. “Of course, Shepard! I was taken care of during my exchange with C-Sec, so I’m always looking for ways to pay…spirits, I learned some human expression for it while I was on the Citadel. I was partnered with a human beat cop for a bit, and he had the most interesting turns of phrase.”

Shepard thought she knew this one. “You’re always looking to pay it forward?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s the one! He used it in a much more violent fashion, but one of the other human cops explained that it usually applies to doing nice things for people. Not, ah, getting a few punches in on criminals while arresting them.” Josinae looked down at that one, almost seeming embarrassed.

“Yeah,” Shepard said, laughing, “the second interpretation is the correct one.”

“Oh, good.” Josinae seemed relieved. She shifted on her bunk and started in on her story. “I was assigned to shadow an asari detective named Mora T’rani for a while. She was very nice to me, but made it clear I was to stay out of her way unless I was called on directly. She let me follow her when she trailed a krogan that was suspected of providing security services to a gang dabbling in slave-snatching on the bad side of Zakera Ward. Taking duct rats, poor people who couldn’t make protection money that month, those sorts. It was the kind of thing she loathed, so she wanted me to see it first-hand.”

“They…do that on the Citadel? Snatch people for slaves, I mean,” Shepard asked. She knew it could get bad in the colonies out on the edges of civilized space, but she had no idea that the center of galactic civilization would be subject to the same dangers.

“Sure,” Josinae said, tilting her head to one side. “The Citadel isn’t the safe haven it pretends to be, or else the C-Sec Investigation Division wouldn’t be so busy. T’rani thought she had the krogan boxed into an alley, but he charged at her instead of slipping into what she was sure was the gang headquarters. She popped this insane ball of black energy that just hovered in the air and tore him off his feet, then hit him with some silver-blue ball of light. The whole thing exploded, and he was knocked out. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Shepard?” Kyratus said her name like it was a question. Oh, yeah, she was the resident offensive biotic expert.

“Sounds like a singularity and a biotic explosion. That second one was probably a warp; that’s the only biotic combo I know that could knock someone out that fast. I can do the warp, but not the singularity. You have to train pretty exclusively on biotics to manage one of those. I’m what the Alliance calls a Vanguard, so I’m trained for close quarters combat with my biotics. We call the ones that train purely on biotic techniques Adepts,” she said.

“I didn’t realize humans had more than one type of biotic. Were you born a biotic?” Josinae asked.

“Oh, we have a third type, too: Sentinels. But no, humans aren’t naturally biotic, as far as I know. Maybe when the first generation of biotics has kids, we’ll see what happens. I was exposed to a high level of eezo when I was about 14, I think, and didn’t know it. From what my doctors have told me, eezo just sort of gets attached to our nervous system if the exposure level is high enough. My abilities started to manifest after a couple years, but I didn’t get any focused training until right before I enlisted. Honestly, I had no idea what was happening to me at the time. Things just started to move around me. Made me pretty unpopular in my friend group.”

Friend group. Gang. Eh, semantics.

“Can you do some biotics here?” Kyratus asked eagerly.

“No!” she exclaimed. “For one, it’s forbidden. I’d get kicked out of the program, and you probably would, too, for asking. For two, I had to turn in my biotic amp to come in here. I’m supposed to get it back for the Forge. I might be able to make some stuff float by accident right now, but I need that amp to really focus and magnify the energy enough to use it for anything useful.”

“What kind of amp do you have?” Justus asked. His shy voice was a surprise after Kyratus’ enthusiasm.

“Uh, a Solaris III amp. It’s pretty standard these days for humans. And I have an L3 implant, if that means anything to you.”

Justus nodded silently, and Josinae had to fill in for him. “Justus is the only Cabal officer candidate in this cohort. Biotics are pretty rare among turians, and Cabal units are biotic turians that usually provide barriers for other turian troops. They don’t get any offensive biotic training at all.”

“Turians use different implants than humans do, but I think mine is similar to yours, Shepard,” Justus said. “I…miss my amp, though.”

Shepard exhaled sharply. “Yeah, me, too, Justus. Me, too.”

His downcast eyes tugged at some emotion within her that she couldn’t quite name. It felt something like sympathy, but somehow more intense. She knew exactly how he was feeling right now, mostly because she was feeling it herself. There was an indescribably lack when a biotic didn’t have his or her amp in, and it was wildly frustrating. If she had to put words to it, she would have said it was like missing a limb, except that wasn’t quite right. It was more like missing an extension of yourself that you hadn’t even known was there.

She impulsively reached out to clasp his hand, palm to palm. A couple of the other turians audibly gasped at her forwardness, but she ignored them. Screw the rules, she thought as she sought out the nearest node of eezo in her nervous system. She’d learned this trick in the lights-out time at Grissom from a couple of the other late-exposure biotic kids. It had been her first experience with directly controlling her biotics, and it had felt like magic the first time she made it work.

Without the amp, it was hard to focus anything, but she coaxed at it until she felt her hand warm with a pulse of faint biotic energy. Justus inhaled sharply and gripped her hand tighter, a resonance in him echoing back against her. They sat like that for a moment before Shepard had to release the energy from the effort. She let go of his hand and rocked back as the energy ebbed away.

“You must be powerful, Shepard,” he breathed. He didn’t seem disturbed by the intimacy of her gesture; he seemed moved.

“I have a strong natural ability, yes,” she said. “I still have a long way to go to develop real skill – like Josinae’s asari C-Sec detective – but one of my Vanguard instructors told me I had the potential to serve with the asari commandos one day. Since she was one herself, I believed her.”

“You trained with a real asari commando?” Justus asked in a strangled, surprised tone. It sounded funny coming from his dual set of larynges.

“She was one of several instructors I had, but yes. Humans haven’t had biotic abilities long enough to build up long term expertise, so we outsource. She was kind enough to volunteer in exchange for a lopsided-sided trade deal that heavily favored Thessia. Or so I was told.”

“Why would humans do that?” Kyratus asked, clearly mystified.

“Because,” Shepard said patiently, “the benefit was mutual. They get most of our platinum exports for a couple years. At a fair price, so it’s not that bad for the Alliance. And we get the service of a biotic expert that will train hundreds of future human experts to a level that it probably would have taken us decades to reach on our own, maybe longer. We field a well-trained corps of offensive biotics far faster than we could have if we’d tried to go solo.”

She was just happy she hadn’t been around for some of the earlier attempts to develop biotic abilities in humans. Some of her Vanguard classmates had told her some awful horror stories about different programs the Alliance had tried before. One guy had shivered when he talked about a place he would only call “Brain Camp.” He was a bit older, and neither she nor their other classmates could make much sense out of it. Thankfully, the place had been shut down long before she’d joined the Alliance, maybe even before she’d been exposed to eezo.

“Definitely faster,” agreed Justus, contemplating the hand that she’d grasped. He flexed it slowly. “But, still, even without your amp…”

Shepard let him trail off and didn’t ask him to finish the thought. She knew now that her eezo exposure had been bad – bad enough that she probably shouldn’t have survived – and she didn’t want to think of what it had done to her nervous system. No one had any idea what the long-term effects of eezo exposure were going to be for humans like her.

Kyratus quickly filled the silence with a story that started with “did I ever tell you guys about the time…?” and the rest of the evening passed quickly in an easy sort of fellowship. Shepard felt a disorienting sense of normality of the whole thing, and she never felt the awkwardness she’d been concerned about. She only glanced back over at Vakarian’s bunk once early on, wondering if she should extend an olive branch and wave him over. But it was shut tightly, even though it was at least an hour before he’d normally go to sleep.

Oh, well, let the grumpy bastard be alone.

----<>----

The next few days passed in a blur as Shepard settled into a routine of muster, train, eat, clean, and relax with her newfound comrades. If Vakarian wasn’t going to be helpful, at least this small group was willing to be nice. Josinae was openly friendly, while Justus was more quietly so. Kyratus seemed as openly friendly as Josinae until he made a very unsubtle offer to show her what turians found so interesting to do in the privacy of their bunks.

She felt bad when she laughed in his face; his wounded look immediately sobering her initial burst of amusement. “No, no, Kyratus, I’m sorry. It’s not funny,” she reassured him.

“Sure seemed like it was,” he groused. She’d seen him bounce back from much more overt rejections, so she felt her way forward carefully.

“You seem very nice, but it’s not you, it’s me,” she said.

He blinked at her in surprise, his head tilting back. It was disconcerting, given how predatory the average turian looked. “Oh, humans use that excuse, too?” he asked, not seeming offended now.

“Well, I guess it’s a classic,” she admitted. “Although, in this case, it’s true. I’m not xenophobic or anything – I wouldn’t have volunteered to be here if I was! – but I don’t really have an attraction to aliens.”

She was getting more used to turians since she had been surrounded by nothing but them for days, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever get to the point where she’d describe them as good-looking. Aesthetically pleasing, sure, but they were sharp and angular in ways that her human brain found disconcerting. Their teeth were frankly terrifying, though other than Vakarian’s surprise that one day, she hadn’t seen any of her cohort open their mouths wide enough to do anything more than take a bite of food off a fork.

“I bet I could show you a couple reasons to be attracted,” he said, giving her what was clearly a turian version of a leer. She took a quick mental note of the shape of his face so she could recognize it in case this happened again.

“Kyratus!” she protested, laughing and patting his shoulder. “I’ve seen you work your way through almost a quarter of the cohort by now! Trust me, that’s not the sort of guy I’d be attracted to, regardless of species. Now, go on. Move on to the next target.”

She was still chuckling as they turned away from each other and she moved off to her bunk. Her laughter cut off when she caught sight of a very stiff Vakarian on his bunk. He looked like he was preparing to leap to the floor, his shoulders bunched in with his arms in tense straight lines, his hands planted flat on the surface of his mattress. His eyes were locked onto hers, the plates of his face bunched up in some mysterious expression. If she had to put a label to it, she’d say that he seemed upset. She wondered what it could possibly be about; he’d hardly said more than a handful of words to her in the last two days.

“Good night,” she said politely to him as she slid into her bunk and closed the privacy screen behind her. At least Kyratus had ultimately taken her rejection with good-natured diplomacy. She wasn’t as honest with him as she’d pretended to be. Despite the best efforts of her Alliance-mandated shrinks, she had a deep well of unresolved trauma from her teenaged years that she was not prepared to go into detail with any random person that came onto her.

It had never been an issue on the enlisted side; enough female Marines were either into women or asexual that no one gave a second thought to her polite rejection of sexual advances. It hadn’t taken long before her horny battle buddies of all genders assumed she was ace and spread the word among themselves to stop propositioning her, leaving her blessedly alone.

Then came the academy and her new start. She’d thought if she could just push herself into it the one time, it would get better after that. She’d said yes once and regretted it immediately. Her subsequent instinctive reaction hadn’t helped her reputation.

But aside from some of the weirder turian habits, being here was starting to feel like being back on the enlisted side of the Alliance. The academy required self-discipline and study, but enlisted life was a lot more structured: regular inspections, a strict training regimen, crappy food, and plenty of time to goof off during slow evenings in the barracks. The only thing that was missing here were regular card games to dupe an unwise brand new private out of his paycheck.

This place was growing more comfortable by the day, though she wished someone like Josinae or Pylinax had been assigned as her partner. Vakarian’s current stony silence had lasted nearly three days straight, and she was sure he’d left her to flounder on purpose during an oral exam the day before. Other teams had answered things together, but he left her on her own for anything that was addressed to her directly, just shaking his head like he didn’t know the answer.

She was going to make it just to spite the asshole, just like she’d done in basic with Gunny Kimani. They were eight sets of partners down at this point, so there were only two pairs left to disappear for their cohort to reach the magical 40% attrition threshold. Maybe it would get a little easier after that. Maybe.

Chapter Text

Things didn’t start to go really wrong with Vakarian until they got into movement drills towards the end of the second week. She’d studied the small team movement tactics training circular as best she could, but there was only so much a soldier could do when they didn’t have hands-on practice. She remembered drilling on things like this for weeks during her Marine boot camp. They’d rehearsed until the movements had become second nature, or at least natural. She could react on instinct to just about any form of dismounted enemy contact by Alliance tactics, but turian doctrine was decidedly different.

They preferred overwhelming force, for one. They didn’t seem to consider that small groups could be more flexibly employed, or that the environment might provide a better option than a straight rush assault in response to an ambush. It seemed bizarre that a species as vaunted for their martial capability as the turians would have such a direct and costly way of waging battle.

Knowing what she knew from her nightly chats with her new friends, she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. If your population was expected to serve from the age of fifteen until thirty, that gave you a lot of bodies to throw at problems without the need to refine tactics and techniques. With the staunch tradition of an all-volunteer force, humans had to be a lot more careful with their resources, the most valuable of which was people. The Alliance would never take the approach of throwing them indiscriminately into a meat grinder until the sausage was made.

The turians also placed far too much trust in their expected superiority. They went into a battle knowing who the likely victor was based on brute-force mathematics, which was a ridiculous perspective in Shepard’s opinion. Turians expected to win because they brought the most people and the most firepower to a fight. Shepard had to wonder what they did with asymmetric warfare. Did they just throw sheer numbers at it until the problem went away?

She wasn’t sure she even wanted to broach the topic of their naval fleet combat doctrine. She knew the humans had surprised them during the First Contact War, especially when they drove the turians back from their occupation of Shanxi. It didn’t seem like they had learned anything from combat with the lighter forces of the Alliance, which focused on flexibility over brawn in their military operations.

Their disregard for biotics in offensive operations was just another symptom of their problem. Asari seemed to be the only natural biotic species in the galaxy, while everyone else only manifested biotic abilities through eezo exposure. Given the metal-rich protective carapaces that turians had developed in response to Palaven’s weak magnetic field, Shepard wasn’t surprised that accidental eezo exposure didn’t result in as many biotics as it did in other species. She assumed the exposure level would have to be much higher for the energy from the eezo to attach itself to a turian nervous system.

Getting to know Justus a bit more had made her realize exactly how disadvantaged turians had rendered themselves when it came to biotics. If Shepard had been born a turian, she never would have been allowed to train on asari commando techniques in the Vanguard specialization course the Alliance Marines had happily sent her through. While biotics were treated with cautious reserve in normal human society, the military eagerly accepted them all into their ranks. Her biotic abilities made her a force multiplier on the battlefield, but only because they weren’t wasted on purely defensive operations.

Biotics could have a serious influence on the course of a battle, but turians wasted their limited number of biotics on creating barriers for other troops. Shepard would be willing to take on any turian infantry company with only a small human squad of her own, as long as she could pick the squad. Hell, given a halfway decent sniper and a tech expert, Shepard could probably devastate at least a platoon of them in a combat arena.

Even their non-biotic forces were primarily infantry with only a few specializing in something else. Vakarian’s company on the range that favored the sniper rifle was very limited. Most of their cohort seemed to use either an assault rifle or a shotgun. Justus was the only turian who used a submachine gun, and Shepard suspected that was because he was expected to only create biotic barriers, not fire on the enemy. He’d been lumped in with the assault rifle group and was probably one of the worst shots in their cohort.

Her studies of turian combat doctrine made her more certain of her assumption for the Forge that the senior cohort would not expect biotic attacks. Defense? Maybe. But attack? Never.

It was inevitable given their species’ wildly different approaches to combat that she and Vakarian grew more and more furious with each other as they reviewed basic turian tactics. Everyone in the course with her had learned all of them during turian basic training, but some hadn’t used it since, so several days were devoted to walking through them again. At least she got the review. The first couple days were without a weapon, then the next couple days were with dummy rifles. She supposed live weapons would make an appearance eventually.

She really set Vakarian off the first day when she couldn’t react the same way a turian would. It only went downhill from there. The two days they spent on hand-to-hand combat were particularly frustrating; they were supposed to be figuring out how to support each other in close-quarters fighting, but he seemed disinterested at best in learning how to get along.

“Is this what humans call close combat skills?” he hissed under his breath as her fist whipped past his face for the fifth time that morning. His own hand lashed out, but it caught nothing but air as she ducked underneath and snapped a knee up into his unprotected rib cage. At least, she hoped it was his rib cage; she didn’t want to hurt him, but she also didn’t want to break her kneecap on the plates she knew extended down the middle of his torso. Observing others out of the corner of her eye in the showers had led to some knowledge of a turian’s plate coverage, even if other, um, things seemed bafflingly missing.

The sharp exhalation of his breath as he crumpled told her it was a good hit at least. He didn’t bounce back easily from the knee-strike, but he doubled his intensity when he finally did. They danced around their corner of the workout mats in a dance older than war. Strike, block, counter-strike, block, hook, dodge, jab, block, knee, dodge.

With his long arms and legs, he had reach on her. But her muscles and joints moved in ways he couldn’t possibly hope to mimic, so she had the flexibility to counter his reach. It made them evenly matched; neither had enough edge to be crowned the decisive victor. Three times he pinned her hard enough that she thought she might’ve popped a rib, but she managed to wiggle free every time. All three times he caught her off guard because she had automatically reached for a biotic ability that wasn’t there. She did manage to get him in an arm bar twice, but his joints didn’t work the way she expected them to and he wrenched free.

Over and over, a different member of the cadre would appear to walk them through different moves and counter-moves, but they relapsed into the same vicious cycle that went nowhere after the instructor stepped back. She thought they would be tearing their hair out in frustration with them if they had any, and she dropped into bed both nights sodden with fatigue. Her only bright thought was that he seemed to be just as exhausted as she was.

Oddly enough, they also maxed their score both days. They must be putting on a good show for someone. Shepard just wished she knew what they were doing to deserve it.

----<>----

Josinae relieved some of the tension Shepard was feeling a couple days later when she came over to ask if they could have that one-on-one chat that Shepard had promised. Shepard invited her to sit next to her on her bunk and settled in, happily anticipating an evening of friendship. Josinae didn’t disappoint.

“So, Shepard,” she said agreeably as she settled herself down next to her, “what’s your story?”

“My story?” she asked.

“Yes. Where are you from? Why did you join the military? I know it isn’t as normal for humans to enter military service as it is for turians,” Josinae explained. “I’m really curious how you ended up here in turian officer training, of all places.”

“Oh, that,” Shepard said, waving her hand. She didn’t think it was a very interesting story, but she supposed she could see why others might feel that way. “I’m from Earth. I was an enlisted Marine for several years. Most of the other students at the Naval Academy aren’t prior enlisted like I am, since there’s an age limit for enrollment. Most other prior enlisted go through a different course to commission. These short tours on summer breaks are supposed to give us an idea of what the Alliance actually does. I’ve seen quite a bit already, though, so this sounded more interesting than just going on another colony Marine detachment tour.”

“Oh, is that kind of like ship duty for us?” Josinae asked.

“No, ship duty is much more exciting than colony detachment duty. At least, it is for humans. I can’t apply for that until next summer. With detachment duty, you’re just on display for the colonists and waiting to die.” Shepard shook her head. She understood the approach the Alliance took to defending its colonies, but it sure sucked to live it on the ground.

The Alliance was willing to invest in a large number of colonies knowing full well that many would fail if not properly defended. They didn’t have the numbers for that, so their colony defense doctrine was centered around tiny Marine detachments on each colony for immediate defense with a rapid reaction naval force prepared to immediately deploy and respond to any attacks. Unfortunately, most planning didn’t involve the survival of the Marine detachments, and it was assumed most wouldn’t live to see the relief arrive.

She instinctively hated the idea, though she recognized the necessity. The flexibility of the naval response allowed far more human colonies than if they’d relied on traditional strong defensive garrisons, but it seemed like it was in direct contradiction of the rest of the Alliance military doctrine. She kept a tight lid on her feelings, though. The payoff would come in a hundred years when humanity had a sprawling network of successful colonies that had grown large enough to sustain themselves.

“Waiting to die?” Josinae asked.

“We don’t have enough Marines to put up a good defense on all the colonies,” Shepard explained, “so they just station a token force on each to slow down whoever attacks long enough to give the naval fleets time to respond. I was fortunate to catch ship duty for most of my time when I was enlisted; colony det duty is dead boring.”

“And you humans don’t even have to serve,” Josinae marveled. “Why did you join up in the first place?”

Shepard looked down at her clasped hands. Josinae had been nothing but nice so far, but she didn’t know if she should trust anyone with the real history of her youth.

“I was a ward of the state. I never knew my parents, but I guess they didn’t want me. I escaped Earth the first chance I got.”

“Your parents didn’t want you?” Josinae sounded shocked. “And no one in your clan adopted you? No one adopted you?!”

“No?” Shepard said, confused by why that would be a surprise. She could hear Vakarian shifting on his bunk above her and dropped her voice lower. “Is it different for turians?”

“Yes! Adopting a child is a huge honor! No clan of any standing would let a child go without parents,” Josinae said indignantly. “And another clan would immediately jump on the opportunity to take them in if they did. Ugh, I can’t even imagine what that was like for you!”

Shepard was touched by how astonished Josinae was by the idea that no one would want her. She’d spent all twenty-two years of her life feeling unwanted and unlovable. She felt a momentary pang of longing; if she’d been born a turian, she would have had a family. She could have had parents that loved her and come to this place in the normal course of a career.

If wishes were horses, we all would ride, a voice said sternly in her head. It was a line in a book she’d once read that stuck with her. Best not to dwell on the might-haves and could-have-beens. Besides, then she would be a turian, and that would be weird.

“Well, it’s not like that for humans. Enlisting was an easy choice to make, especially because I’m a biotic.”

“You said humans aren’t naturally biotics,” Josinae noted. Shepard was grateful the other woman let her shift the conversation away from her childhood. “What makes it a problem?”

“We haven’t had biotics for very long, so there’s not a whole lot of confidence in us,” Shepard said with a shrug. “Most people don’t trust a biotic to not lose their mind and hurt someone. Everyone’s happy to shuffle us off to the military, so I went voluntarily before anyone could make it an order.”

She had run into their open arms early at the age of sixteen to escape the Reds, but the Alliance military had certainly taken care of her from there. It had taken her some time to get used to the structure of Grissom Academy, but for the first time in her life, she’d been free to just learn. She’d soaked up everything they gave her and more, devouring books by illuminated datapad under her covers after lights-out. By the time she graduated two years later, she was back at grade level with the rest of her classmates.

Commander Anderson, the Alliance recruiter that had saved her from the streets, showed up to her graduation. He hadn’t even asked before she told him she was making good on her promise from two years before; she’d already taken her oath of enlistment and was shipping to basic down in Brazil the next morning.

It was the first time in her life that anybody had been proud of her.

“I’m proud of you, child. I knew you could make it,” Anderson said, his eyes twinkling down at her as he gripped her shoulder. “And I knew you’d hold to your word to enlist. There’s so much potential in you if you can seize it. Your DIs aren’t going to know what hit them. Welcome to the Alliance Marines. Damn few, child. Damn few.”

She hadn’t understood then, but she understood now. He’d showed up again at her graduation from basic, and once more when she graduated from Vanguard training at the top of her class. Each time, he told her how proud he was with a quiet damn few, child.

She smiled to herself at the memories and continued her conversation with Josinae.

----<>----

Somewhere around day fourteen, Shepard’s perpetual worry about crazy training missions finally manifested into reality when they were greeted with rucksacks instead of breakfast. Thankfully, hers was sized for a human instead of a turian.

She took a quick look inside to find that there was nothing in the rucksacks but weights. She hefted the whole thing cautiously; it felt like a 20-kilo load. She slid into her rucking boots and secretly crammed as many levo and dextro ration bars into her bag as she could before they were harried outside by the cadre. A couple of each went into her pockets, too, just in case. Her water bladder – full from habit, as always – latched into the top of the provided rucksack just underneath its covering flap. Hmm, convenient.

Instead of just being set on their running course like she half expected, they were shuffled into a waiting shuttle. They flew for only twenty minutes before landing and being herded back off. Even though it was a short trip, the landscape was wildly different from their usual hilly, rocky training area. A flat expanse of nothing greeted her eyes, though she sucked in her breath at a gorgeously rugged mountain range that peeked over the horizon. That certainly wasn’t visible from their training camp! It gave her an odd twinge of homesickness for Vancouver. Any time she’d been able to see the mountains there had been when she wasn’t buried on the streets, which constituted some of her only happy memories.

She tentatively toed the soil with her boots and found it to be slightly sandy. It would make the going a little tougher, but she could manage. They’d had to do plenty of sprints and marches on sandy beaches in Brazil during basic training; rucking over a distance on terrain like this shouldn’t be a problem.

“Candidates!” one of the cadre yelled. “A navpoint has been loaded into your omnitools. Get there by this time tomorrow, or you will be eliminated from the course.”

Jane glanced down at her omnitool to look for it. She had to double-check that she was reading it correctly when she did. Shit, that point was almost seventy-five kilometers away! Launching into a long-distance ruck like this with no training build-up time was a terrible idea! Based on the quiet murmurs around her, she wasn’t the only one drawing that conclusion.

It was too late to protest about it, though. The instructor disappeared back onto the shuttle and it took off. The whine of its engine faded as it disappeared into the distance. Shepard glanced around, realizing there were only candidates left on the open plain; no cadre members had remained.

Her legs would be sore after this, but this wasn’t a distance she couldn’t manage in the 28 hours of a Palaven day. Speaking of which, she quickly set a timer on her omnitool to count down the next 28 hours. Her eyes sought out Vakarian once she’d started it. He was already looking at her, so she moved to his side.

“I’ll be fine with this distance,” she murmured. “Will you?”

He growled wordlessly and dropped his gaze to the ground. “Not without food,” he reluctantly admitted.

That meant he’d checked his pack already and realized what was missing. Wasn’t that an interesting development, then? Not only did she have something he was going to need, but this was also clearly an impossible task that the candidates had been set on. She knew from experience what that meant.

“Do you have a full water bladder?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I always keep that full.”

“Me, too,” she said, grinning at his downturned face. “I’m a bit of a hoarder, actually.”

He looked up and cocked his head at her. “What?”

“You’ll see what I mean. Let’s go,” she said, raising her omnitool to get a bearing on their navpoint. “Do you think you’ll need five- or ten-kilometer increments between breaks? I know your pace on runs, but I don’t know how you do on rucks.”

“Uh, over ten for the first leg, then maybe somewhere in between after that,” he said uncertainly, trailing just behind her. “But I’m not going to make the one-day time limit without something to eat. None of us are. Are you telling me humans can?”

“Maybe we’ll find something along the way,” she suggested.

“Shepard.”

The way he growled her name made something twinge in her gut again. Gods, could she not get over this instinctive fear?

“Look, Vakarian,” she said, not slowing her pace, “if none of you turians are going to make that time hack, then you obviously won’t get kicked out for not making it on time. They’re setting an impossible goal to see how far you’ll get, even if you know it’s hopeless. It’s a transparently obvious test of your grit and will to endure. Now, pick up your spurs. You aren’t going to starve because I steal ration bars every chance I get.”

She pulled one of the dextro ones from her pocket out and held it out to him. He seemed to take it out of reflex. “Here’s breakfast.”

“I can’t eat—” Vakarian started savagely but cut himself off when he actually looked at the ration bar in his hands. “You’ve been stealing dextro ration bars? Why?”

“I have a dextro partner, don’t I?” she asked lightly.

He surprised her by stopping short, so she stopped as well. He didn’t look at her; instead, he glanced over his shoulder at the clusters of officer candidates, then back at the ration bar in his hands. The plates of his face worked as he seemed to consider something.

Finally, he said, “Hang on a minute, I need to do something.”

He turned and jogged back over to the candidates, only some of whom had started moving; the rest were digging in their packs, obviously looking for supplies that weren’t there. She watched him move around the edge of the group and start talking to another turian. Shepard had only briefly noted him in passing before because he was one of the shortest turians she’d ever seen. He was probably only a couple inches taller than she was.

Vakarian seemed to insist on something, forcing the ration bar she’d given him into the other turian’s hand before taking his rucksack off his own shoulders. He opened the other turian’s and pulled a couple weights out to transfer into his own pack.

“What the hell is he doing?” she whispered to herself. It was obvious that he was helping the guy; looking at the length of his legs and how turians were normally built, Shepard assumed he wouldn’t make it through the hike at all with the weight and no food. For a species that was fiercely competitive with everything, what Vakarian was doing was baffling.

But also…maybe kindness? Damn, she hadn’t even realized he was capable of kindness. She watched the other turian continue his protests, but Vakarian just held one hand up at him while he used the other to hoist his heavier pack back up over his shoulder. Vakarian gestured sharply at the turian and said something that made the other man take a step back. Vakarian seemed to glare at him for a moment before he turned back in her direction.

He came jogging back over, breathing just a touch harder than usual. He barely met her eyes before looking back down at the ground. “I’m not hungry for breakfast,” he muttered.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes – his actions deserved at least a modicum of respect – and took her pack off her shoulders to dig out a few more dextro bars, shoving all but one into her pockets before hooking her pack back over her shoulders. She held it out to him. “I stole a lot of ration bars, Vakarian. You can still have breakfast.”

She didn’t otherwise comment on what he’d done as he took it silently and nodded in thanks. He looked at it for a moment before finally glancing back up at her. “Uh, thank you,” he said carefully. As if the words weren’t familiar in his mouth.

She froze as he started walking away, tearing open the packaging on the bar as he moved. Of course the words weren’t familiar to him; he was a turian, and thanking someone out loud was rude for them. But he’d nodded his thanks and then paused to think about it. Had he stopped to remember what she’d said about it being different for humans, and then...

…made the effort to thank her verbally?

She couldn’t have been more shocked if Trebia spontaneously went supernova in the sky above them. Thankfully, her legs almost immediately started moving to match his pace automatically, or he would have quickly left her behind. After a moment, she dug one of her own levo bars out of her pocket and tore into it. Even though her biotics were useless, they still demanded calories.

As usual, Vakarian was dead silent for almost the entire trek, and they reached the navpoint 25 very quiet hours later. While she appreciated that he didn’t complain about the pace once, it was a little unnerving to go that long in silence. He also didn’t thank her aloud again for the ration bars she gave him at every break, just resumed giving her a firm nod each time.

The one time he spoke was to offer her some of his water when Trebia was at its highest in the sky. She’d draped a cloth around her head to try to keep the cooling effect of her sweat from boiling away immediately and rationed her water in cautious sips, but she could tell she was going to be in rough shape before long. “I need less than you,” was all he said as he poured a quarter of a liter from his water bladder into hers. She accepted it with a grateful dip of her chin.

Her knees and ankles ached from the effort of the march, but it was worth the stunned look on the cadres’ faces when they arrived well within the time limit. She was also pretty sure she saw several of them glare at a couple of the others as they tapped their omnitools. The two subjects of the glares seemed smug as they acknowledged their own omnitools lighting up.

One of the subjects of the glares was the instructor that had led the run on the first day, and he gestured them to follow him to a small recovery area that was set up by the shuttle that had dropped them off the day before. He took the weights out of their packs and put them into waiting boxes. He didn’t comment on Vakarian’s extra weights.

“Keep the rucksacks. You’ll need them later,” he said. He gestured towards a pile of ration packs on a table. “Get food and get seen by the medics.”

He turned to go but paused momentarily to glance over his shoulder, one mandible quirking out. “And well done on the ruck. You won me over five hundred credits. I knew betting on you was a safe bet.”

She and Vakarian glanced at each other in shared confusion before Vakarian shook his head and moved off to the waiting rations.

Wait, had the cadre been wagering on the outcome?

Huh, so she had a couple of the cadre betting on her and her stubborn partner. Maybe even rooting for them to succeed.

Score another victory for the human.

Chapter Text

Though she and Vakarian were the only two to finish in the required time, she was pleased to note that she had been right: no one was eliminated for failing to finish in 28 hours or less. The three sets of partners that had disappeared were because they’d given up and requested a casevac. The remaining members of the cohort were exhausted from the ruck march, but they were given the rest of the day and night to recover before launching back into training.

She was also pleased to see that none of her new friends had given up, and neither had the short turian that Vakarian had helped. No one weighed their rucksacks at the end or brought up that he had extra weight packs in his.

Captain Kryik appeared at dinner the first night after everyone had been flown back to the facility. He moved around the tables offering praise and bending down here and there to murmur a private comment in the ears of certain candidates.

“Well done, Pylinax, for taking some of your partner’s weight,” he told the turian next to her. Pylinax seemed to puff up with pride at that.

“And well done, Vorinus, for letting him. I know it may feel like it hurt your ego to let him take your burden, but you are a team and that’s what you’re here to learn: always rely on your team. Sacrifices are a gift, and you must accept a gift for it to have worth. Accepting the gift takes just as much courage as giving it.”

Vorinus seemed to perk up a bit at that.

Kryik’s green eyes fell on Shepard, and she inhaled a bit more sharply than she meant to. He nodded at her. “It’s been a long time since anyone finished under the time requirement, Shepard—” his gaze swung to her partner “—Vakarian. Well done, both of you,” he finished.

She looked at him, wondering if that was all he was going to say. He looked back at her and seemed impassive for a moment before his mandible spread in a smile. “Excellent job sharing your water and food freely. I wonder if the rest of the cohort will start stealing ration bars in imitation from now on.”

Shepard exhaled a tense breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “It seemed…prudent, sir. And I wouldn’t call it ‘stealing’ if they’re open for the taking.”

“Indeed, Shepard,” he said, amusement permeating his voice. “Preparedness is the foundation of good planning.”

He bent down to whisper something in Vakarian’s ear. Vakarian seemed to stiffen as he listened, then relaxed and muttered a quiet, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Kryik nodded at them all before moving on to the next table. The rest of the dinner was just as quiet as the first half.

----<>----

Shepard thought things would get better with Vakarian after they’d managed to be civil on the long-distance march, but that proved a futile hope. He became ill-tempered and short with her again once they were issued dummy rifles and got back to tactical drills.

They practiced getting ambushed in rocky terrain. They practiced getting ambushed in hilly terrain. They practiced getting ambushed in a fake urban site. They even flew over an hour in the shuttle to practice getting ambushed in native vegetation. The bushes that shimmered with an odd iridescence were just tall enough that Shepard couldn’t see over them. She kept automatically trying to flank the direction of the attack, earning her several snarls each time from an increasingly angry Vakarian. It didn’t help that she kept losing sight of him as he sprinted off. They had to move together, and he kept having to come back for her.

By the time they were done with ambush drills after two days, all her goodwill towards him for giving her extra water had boiled away. The next time they had an event like that she was just going to let the infuriating man starve.

They drew their real weapons on the third day back from the march. They were also issued the heat sink that would let them fire live rounds from the metal core at the heart of their mass effect mechanism. Shepard started to get a little nervous when they got to the outdoor range. It was a large, fenced-in field with chest-high boulders dotting the landscape at random intervals. There were a couple of higher points, but she couldn’t see any way up from this angle. An open gate lay on the other side maybe 250 meters away.

“Welcome to day one of live fire, candidates,” one of the cadre shouted. “Gather ‘round for your range brief.”

Shepard noticed that Captain Kryik was out to observe this one. He stood next to Lieutenant Meritus off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. His cool gaze swept over all of them, seeming to take their measure. She met his eyes for a moment before looking away in embarrassment. She trailed behind Vakarian to stand next to him at the edge of the group to listen to a very thorough safety brief for the range. They were not to point their weapons anywhere near each other, and they would face severe discipline if they did so.

“No stunt firing, no trick shots, no unnecessary risks!” the instructor yelled. “You plot your firing lanes, and you stay out each other’s!”

Short of a cadre member tackling one of them on the range, she didn’t see any enforcement mechanism, though. Vakarian could “accidentally” have a round in her before anyone realized what he’d done. Surely he wouldn’t do something that insane. She eyed him out of the corner of her eye trying to gauge how seriously he was taking this. His face was the usual impassive turian expression. No, there was no way he’d do something that stupid. He wouldn’t sabotage his own career like that, let alone his life.

“You will make several attempts to traverse this course using a tactical two-person rush,” the instructor continued. “Your fastest time on the day will count for your score, but points will still be deducted for making mistakes on any run.”

Everyone lined up to wait their turn. Shepard turned to Vakarian and asked, “How do you want to do this?”

“Just stay out of my way,” he snarled, his voice low. She felt like a hook caught somewhere behind her navel. This fear thing was getting old.

“Fine,” she grumbled back. “And you stay out of mine.”

They were fourth in line. She watched the three pairs ahead of them stumble through the course. The first pair leap-frogged through a couple of the barriers, but the drones that popped out of the ground quickly overwhelmed them. An alarm blared, a light at the far gate flared blue, and an instructor pulled them over to the side. Shepard couldn’t hear him, but by his gestures and the pair’s expressions, he was probably going into great detail about their personal failings.

The next two sets of turians didn’t do much better, and it was quickly time for her and Vakarian to take a shot. They lined up at the start point, weapons out. She felt her adrenaline surge as she contemplated the course. She could aim for that cover to the right; that would give her a good angle on where she’d seen the drones pop up without getting caught out.

“I’m going to—” she started, but Vakarian cut her off.

“I don’t care what you do,” he snapped. “I told you: stay out of my way.”

She recoiled at the hostility in his voice. That was how he wanted it? Fine. The start bell rang, and she sprinted towards her chosen cover.

Unfortunately, it was the same cover that Vakarian had chosen. They bounced of each other’s shoulders – well, her shoulder bounced off his upper arm – as they jostled for position. She had to whip her shotgun down and to the side to avoid flagging him with it.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

“I tried to tell you what I was going to do, but you stopped me!” she yelled, not even trying to control her volume. A drone tagged her on her shoulder. Damn, turian simunitions hurt, even through her armor.

She tried to get out of his way, she really did. But one oversized, two-toed foot in its big, clunky boot was suddenly in her path, and she went sprawling to the ground.

Fury radiated in waves through her body. Without quite realizing what she was doing, she thumbed the safety catch on her shotgun and left it on the ground. She tucked her right arm into her body as she used her legs to pop up, then combined her momentum with the sudden uncoiling of her arm to crash her fist into Vakarian’s face. Some rational part of her brain screamed at her to stop, but that went immediately silent when Vakarian responded by tackling her back down to the ground.

She was dimly aware of his fists and elbows as they grappled, but her anger was too overwhelming to feel much physical pain. She wasn’t sure how long they rolled on the ground before she felt strong hands grip her shoulders and arms to pry her apart from Vakarian. She heaved in ragged breaths as she knelt on the ground, eyes locked on his furiously. He glowered right back from a couple meters away where he was held by another couple cadre members.

“Vakarian! Shepard!” Kryik’s voice roared in her ear. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing? On a live range of all places?!”

Vakarian’s eyes dropped to the ground, his instant shame obvious. She felt a cold certainty wash through her: this was it. She was going to get kicked out.

“Both safeties were on,” grunted another cadre member. He was holding her shotgun in one hand and Vakarian’s sniper rifle in the other. “Least they both did that before they started rolling.”

Kryik looked more angry than Shepard had ever seen him. Hovering at his elbow was a very smug Meritus. Fuck.

“Physical altercation on a live weapon range,” Meritus said. He sounded as gleeful as his face looked. “That’s certainly an expulsion-worthy offense.”

“No, they engaged their safeties first. But it certainly won’t go unpunished,” Kryik said grimly, then pointed at the instructor holding their weapons. “You. Escort them back to the barracks and check their weapons back into the armory. You two—” he gathered both Shepard and her turian partner up with a withering gaze “—fix this problem with your teamwork by tomorrow, or I, as the battalion commander, will personally boot you both from the course. You know that means you can never come back, Vakarian. I expected far better, and I’m disappointed in both of you.”

Shepard was so ashamed of herself that she could only feel a slight hint of satisfaction at watching Meritus’ smugness transform into frustration. She felt the cadre’s hands release her, and she climbed slowly to her feet. She trudged after their designated escort without a word, her eyes on the ground.

----<>----

Shepard had fully reclaimed her anger by the time they got back to the barracks and were left to their own devices to sort things out. She seethed inside, trying desperately to contain her rage as she slammed her way into the showers. She eventually would have cooled off if Vakarian hadn’t barged his way in right after her. She could have taken some space from him to regain her composure. They could have talked to each other like adults if they had distanced themselves from their towering rage with each other.

Instead, he followed close on her heels, his towel and hygiene basket in his hands.

“Get lost,” she growled at him.

“I’m filthy from rolling in the dirt with the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. Ignore me,” he hissed back, taking the shower nozzle directly beside her. His mandibles flared in clear satisfaction at the wordless noise of frustration she made in the back of her throat. “If you’re going to destroy my career, I might as well take every delight in pissing you off. Just like you do to me, you brainless human.”

“Nobody’s destroying your career except you, you spurless sack of volus shit,” she ground out. She’d been paying attention to the casual insults the other turians threw at each other, and that one clearly landed on him. He bared his teeth, but didn’t turn to face her, simply scrubbed at his crest with one hand.

“At least my parents wanted me,” he mocked as he turned under the water’s spray.

Shepard felt a cold, white fury wash through her body. He had no right. No fucking right to say something like that! She thought she’d been mad before, but blackness dimmed the edge of her vision as her breathing slowed to almost nothing.

“What. Did. You. Say?” she asked, a clear space between every word.

“You heard me,” he said, his voice calmer than it had any right to be. “You weren’t exactly quiet when you were talking to your friend. So, is that a common thing among humans, or are you just extra repellant? I find you particularly distasteful, but I figured most human parents would want their kids.”

“Too far, Vakarian,” she hissed before she launched herself at him again. The knuckles of her right hand were still sore from the first time she’d decked him a bare hour before, but she hardly spared a thought for it before they collided with the side of his face again. She followed up with a left hook that connected solidly on the other side of his face. A distant, detached part of her brain registered the satisfying slight crunch of his mandible against her fingers.

The advantage of her surprise didn’t last; her right hook met only air as he ducked away, sweeping out with a kick to collide with the side of her knee, his two toes curling around to hit the back and buckle the joint. She fell, grunting in frustration at the dirty trick. She was lucky for her genetic enhancements, or the force of his initial blow would have torn something. She twisted as she landed on the wet tiles to avoid braining herself on their cool smoothness.

She suffered further indignity when he landed on top of her, pinning her effectively with both of her arms stretched above her head, his massive three-fingered hands closing on her wrists. Her legs automatically wrapped around his torso just above his jutting hips, pulling him into a guard hold so she could control the movement of his body. It was the weakest of the dominant holds, especially with her arms out of commission. She wasn’t sure how effective it would be against a turian either, but it was what she knew. They hadn’t managed to do much grappling in their hand-to-hand sessions before, and what they’d done on the range today had been as far from practiced hand-to-hand as possible.

He growled in her ear and that weird, disoriented feeling rippled through her again. What the fuck even is that? she thought angrily as she snarled wordlessly back. The heat of her rage-induced adrenaline surge warmed her in the pit of her stomach and radiated outwards. He hadn’t managed to keep her pinned in their sanctioned combatives matches, and she was furious that his cheating had stuck her in this position in this spontaneous unsanctioned bout.

She could tell she wasn’t alone in her rage; his whole body felt like it was vibrating against hers with his own anger. It took her a moment of struggling against his stronger grip to realize that it wasn’t just her imagination; he was literally vibrating between her legs. The heat from her wrath settled somewhere decidedly south of her stomach at the sensation.

What…the fuck? she thought, not sure what she was feeling.

He pushed himself upwards without breaking his grip on her to glare in her face. “Give up?” he growled, his breath practically filling her mouth with his exhalation. Her hips pivoted uselessly, trying to use leverage to roll him. The heat wrenched just slightly higher as their bodies rubbed together with her thrashing attempts to get out from underneath him.

“Never,” she hissed back, her eyes suddenly focused on his mouth, which hovered only a few inches away from hers.

“You humans don’t know when you’re beaten,” he taunted. Her eyes darted back up to his in time to see him glance at the place where her throat met her shoulder, his mouth open. With how widely his pupils were blown, she thought he almost looked…hungry?

“Yeah, fighting against impossible odds is kind of our thing,” she gasped. His mouth opened wider with his heaving pants, and she caught sight of a blue tongue. It flicked out – surprisingly long – to run over the sharp edges of his mouth as he stared at her neck. What would that feel like on her skin, she wondered.

Wait, what? she thought, feeling suddenly stupid and slow. Why would she wonder something like that?

It felt like his skin shifted underneath her groin and the fire inside her kicked up another notch. Maybe she should have at least talked to Kyratus – or more safely, Josinae – about what the hell turian sexuality looked like. Was he turned on?

More importantly, was she turned on?! His body pressed along hers was warmer than it had any right to be, and it was a strangely stimulating contrast with the cold tiles at her back. The vibrations were intense, and it felt like they were stronger where their bodies met at their groins. Shepard hadn’t really realized how intimate the guard position really was until now. Naked skin against naked skin and plates made it feel far more sexual than a hand-to-hand combat position had any right to feel.

His head dropped, his face pressing into her neck as he inhaled deeply. His rough wheeze made her shiver, but his hands loosened on her wrists. She quickly pulled them out of his grasp, fully intending to use her fists to get him off her.

She found herself instead wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him tightly against her. Her hips ground against him and she felt something hard and hot between them, rubbing against the outer lips of her labia to nestle between them. The friction did something to her, and her whole pelvis spasmed against him as she let out a moan.

Shit, we’re both turned on. How the fuck did this happen?! she thought. Or at least that’s what she tried to think. She didn’t think she’d ever been turned on in her life, and the sensations were a little overwhelming. The hard lines of his mouth were currently wreaking havoc on the skin of her neck, the sharp pinching sensation riding the line between pleasure and pain so precisely that she could do nothing but push her chin up to give him better access.

His tongue proved to be better than she could have imagined when it swiped along her throat, its warm, rough texture dragging along a sensitive point. It also felt longer than she thought it was, wrapping damn near halfway around her throat before its pointed tip trailed its way up around her ear. She shivered at the sensation.

“Oh, fuck me,” she moaned.

“I’m trying to,” he replied with a sound that was half frustrated groan and half amused laugh.

“Not on the bathroom floor, you’re not,” she said sternly.

“No, ma’am,” he said, then squeezed her earlobe between the plates of his mouth. She felt both of his arms wrap around her and he hoisted her up first to crouch in his lap, then picked her up off the ground entirely. Shit, turians were strong. He braced her against him with one arm while using the other to swipe both of their shower nozzles’ water off. She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him.

His head rocked back to look at her. “What was that?”

“Human thing,” she said breathlessly. He stared at her lips for a moment, then tentatively pushed his mouth back against hers. She kissed him again, her eyes automatically sliding shut so she could focus on nothing but the sensations.

She felt air moving along her damp skin as she deepened the kiss, using her own tongue to explore his mouth. She carefully avoided the sharp points of his teeth, but she caressed their sides with the tip of her tongue. His grip around her tightened as she touched his tongue with hers. She inhaled sharply through her nose when he finally tangled his tongue around hers.

They broke apart and she realized he’d carried her all the way back to their bunks already. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

“What about excrement could possibly be religious?” he asked, sounding utterly confused.

“Another human thing. It’s a curse,” she explained.

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for a moment, her legs gripping his waist and his arms wrapped under her ass to hold her up. She could feel a firm point pressing against her entrance and shivered again. One small move of their hips and he’d be inside her. She found herself needing it so badly. It was so bewildering; she’d never wanted like this before. It was more than want; it was need.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said softly. “Spirits, I don’t even know why I want to do this.”

“Not backing down now, are you, Vakarian?” she teased. It was easier to give him shit than trying to jump down and run off screaming. Her heart hammered in her chest with nerves.

“I don’t back down, Shepard,” he growled back. “Ever.”

“Promises, promises,” she said breathlessly. He stared at her, disbelief written clearly in the full-plated scrunching of his weirdly attractive turian face.

Wait, was that really how she thought of him? Over two weeks of being surrounded by nothing but turians must be making her mind play tricks on her. The lines and planes of his face were put together in an objectively aesthetically pleasing way, especially with the accent of his blue colony markings, but…shit. Yeah. Yeah, she found him attractive. She felt the jarring strangeness in her conscious mind, but her body was definitely screaming more! at her.

“Are you…are you mocking me?” he asked.

“Teasing, not mocking. And it’s habit, sorry.”

They looked at each other for another moment, frozen in their intimate tableau, before she bucked up the courage to press a gentle kiss to his mouth, one hand loosening from his neck to cradle the side of his face. She knew he took it for the consent it was when she felt her back press up against the small section of wall between their bunks and her locker.

With the new support firmly in place, he brought one arm up to grasp her hand on his cheek and lifted it up to press her wrist against the wall. His cock probing at her entrance gained sudden direction as he used the wall to push himself into her. She threw her head back and sighed in relief as he finally slid inside her. Only a couple inches at first, but enough to temporarily sate the growing need in her belly.

His head bent down to her exposed neck, and she sighed as his mouth found the sensitive spot just under her ear again. She squeezed her legs tighter around his waist. He growled and pulled back to push against her again with his hips, sliding deeper inside. His cock felt like it had ridges, and the combination of their friction and the strange vibration of his body made her tremble as it deepened in intensity. The heat pooling in her middle increased and she moaned, “More.”

“I don’t…want to hurt you,” he panted against her throat.

“You won’t,” she huffed, desperate for more of him.

He began to gently rock against her, sliding deeper with every thrust. “You’re so open for me,” he breathed. Some part of her brain noted it to ask about what that meant later, but the rest of her body was too overwhelmed with sensation to care.

His hand on her wrist slid up to twine with her fingers instead, his thumb dipping back down to stroke against the soft skin of her wrist. It was such a tender caress that she gasped in wonder. His mouth hadn’t stopped on her neck, so she tentatively tried to return the favor with her hand that wasn’t pinned to the wall. Her fingers felt their way over the soft skin of his neck and to the plates that protected his spine, rubbing upward to stroke the back of his head. He hummed in pleasure against her skin.

They stayed that way for at least a minute, or maybe it was an untold eon, his gentle thrusting building up a tension in her that felt like a dam holding back a river swollen with rain. He felt so good inside her, so impossibly good. He dropped her hand so he could firmly grasp her with both hands, his talons biting into her sensitized skin. She wrapped both arms around his neck, clutching herself against him. His pace increased, and her tension rose with it. The world seemed to condense down to nothing but the two of them, her perception narrowing until all she could feel was every point where their bodies met.

She felt like she was riding the edge of a massive wave that threatened to drown her. “Harder,” she wheezed. More. She needed more.

He growled and his thrusts lost their gentleness, roughly pinning her to the wall with every push. His vibrations were so deep now that she almost couldn’t feel them. He bit harder on her neck, and the pain finally pushed over the edge as she bucked her hips against him. She shuddered as her tension burst, waves of pleasure shooting through her body. She didn’t think she could clench her legs any harder, but she did as she screamed his name in his ear. He groaned sharply and gave one final, drawn-out thrust as he came, her spasming insides clenching around him.

She felt herself being squashed between him and the wall as he sagged in their post-coital high. It was a satisfying sensation to be so firmly encompassed, and she buried her face in his neck. He had a pleasant smell that she hadn’t noticed before, like the metallic warmth of a gun left out in the sun. There was a hint of something almost sweet and spicy, too, and she inhaled it in deeply. His vibrations were back at a frequency that she could readily feel, and she found it all deeply comforting.

Everything about him right now was comfortable and safe: his weight, his smell, his gentle thrumming. It lulled her into yielding to the utter exhaustion she felt.

“Need…bed…” she moaned. He leaned away from the wall and sidestepped a few feet. He bent over to lay her down in her bunk and she shakily pried her legs away from his hips. He released her and tried to stand back up, taking his pleasant warmth and vibration with him. She seized the front ridge of his carapace and pulled him in, insisting, “Nuh-uh. Snuggle.”

“What’s a ‘snuggle?’” he asked.

“I’ll show you,” she promised.

“Just need to clean up first,” he replied. “I’ll be right back.”

“You better.” Her eyes slid shut as she melted into the bed. It felt like her whole body was damn-near glowing. She floated in her ease, reveling in the sensation of being at peace. She’d never felt like this before. So, that’s what the big fuss was about!

It wasn’t long before she heard him return and her bunk mattress sagged slightly as she sat down next to her hip. “Here,” he said quietly, “I brought you a cloth. If you want it. Or…I can clean you up. If you want.”

She shivered in desire at the thought, but she wasn’t ready for that level of anything yet. She held out a hand without opening her eyes and felt the wet piece of fabric drop into her palm. She swiped at herself, her skin twitching under the texture of the cloth. She let it drop over the side of the bed. It landed with a faint plop on the ground, and she heard him snort in amusement. She held out both her arms and waved her hands in a beckoning motion. “You. Bed. Now.”

He laughed outright at her, but he climbed in beside her as she scooted as far back to the wall as she could. Fortunately, given the size of a normal turian, the bunks were quite spacious. He was on the short and skinny side when compared to their classmates, so they fit together easily into the space. He settled down next to her and she rolled straight into his arms, burying her face back into his neck to seek his comforting smell. She curled her free right arm over the top of his body to pull herself into him, the firmness of his plates a reassuring press against her. The soothing vibration of his body against hers resumed, and she sighed happily.

“This is snuggling,” she said softly.

“Oh. Turians…can’t really do this. With each other, anyway. Our plates kind of grind. It gets very uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t know turians purred,” she said dreamily.

“It’s my subvocals. Second layer of communication. Mostly emotional inflection,” he explained, his throat vibrating even harder when he spoke. “They’re outside the frequency range of your hearing, but they’re always there. I guess you can feel them.”

“Mmm, they feel nice. Keep it up.”

Sleep dragged her under. She thought she heard a gently amused, “yes, ma’am,” as she drifted off.

Chapter Text

Shepard slowly woke in the usual dark of her bunk. She’d become pleasantly accustomed to the darkness that the privacy shutters provided. Even if the bunks weren’t as quiet as her room back at the academy, she felt so safe and warm in here hidden away from whatever was going on in the barracks outside. The mattresses turians used were far better than anything the Alliance had ever given her. It felt like wallowing in a cloud, but she could understand why they were that way with all the random pokey bits the turians had.

She half pushed herself into a mouth that nuzzled just below her ear before she realized what she was doing. She simultaneously realized that there was an arm around her waist that squeezed her back against a firm, warm body with…oh, pokey bits. Bits that actually didn’t feel all that uncomfortable, now that she concentrated on them. All signs pointed to her being in bed with a turian, which meant last night she’d probably…

Oh, yeah, Vakarian pinned me against the wall and I rode him until I—she blushed when she remembered exactly how loudly she’d cried his name when she came. Thank the absent gods that everyone was still out on the range for that part. She vaguely remembered everyone piling back into the barracks at some point and someone – Vel, maybe? – asking Vakarian where she was. He’d grumpily rolled over to slam the privacy shutter shut in her face, but not before she’d spied a very sleepy and very naked Shepard reaching up to pull him back down into their cozy nest.

Great, everyone’s going to know, she grumbled to herself. Privacy would have been nice, but everyone was on top of each other in the barracks. She could handle the turians here knowing, but she didn’t want it to make it back to the Alliance. Maybe if it did, she could frame it as cultural immersion.

The nuzzling mouth found a sensitive spot and she couldn’t help the moan that slipped out. “Fuuuuck, Vakarian.”

His responding chuckle vibrated against her neck, melting any resistance she might still have been clinging to. “Would you just call me Garrus already?” he asked. “At least in here.”

She steeled herself, knowing what she should exchange in return. The idea of the vulnerable surrender of using first names left her quaking inside. But Vakarian was safe; he hadn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t hurt her. He was nothing like her ex. Mercy had been cruel with her name, whipped her with it. Ruined it.

She could do this. She could be vulnerable.

“Only if you call me Jane,” she murmured back.

“I can do that, Jane.” The rumble of his voice when he said her name sent a puddle liquid arousal straight into her belly. It was nice to finally put a name to the weird sensation his voice had been giving her: she had been aroused, not afraid. And oh, how nice her name sounded in his mouth.

She reached up to wrap her hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face harder against her neck. “Do that thing with your lips,” she demanded.

“So bossy,” he murmured with amusement coloring his flanging. “Fortunately, I take direction exceptionally well.”

He nipped gently at the place he’d just been nuzzling, and she shuddered at the sensation. That combined with the vibrations of his subvocals made her feel like she was about to quiver out of her skin with desire. She hadn’t had sex in years – and she hadn’t exactly enjoyed it back then – and here she was, only able to think of getting him back inside her.

Or maybe they could try something different.

“Garrus?” she asked breathlessly.

“Mmm?” he hummed back without stopping his gentle nipping.

“Do turians do oral?” That did make him stop.

“Do what now?” he asked.

“You know, use your mouth? Uh, down there?” She felt weird saying it. Maybe this was a bad idea. He was frozen against her like she’d suggested something offensive. “I mean, if you don’t, that’s totally okay. I don’t want to offend you, or anything.”

“Are you actually asking me to…to do that?!” He sounded shocked. Damn, now she’d done it.

“No! No, not if it’s not something you wouldn’t normally do. Like I said, I don’t want to offend you, Garrus! It’s a thing humans do th-that I’ve never really done.”

He surprised her by chuckling against her neck. “No, Jane, you haven’t offended me. I guess I should amend that so you understand: you’re giving me permission to do that?”

“’Permission?’” she repeated, her brows pinching in confusion.

“Yeah, for a turian woman to allow a man to do that is…” he said, trailing off and blowing out the rest of his breath. The skin of her neck quivered at its warm onslaught. “Spirits, Jane, I’m pretty sure I know plenty of couples that have been bonded for decades that haven’t ever done that.”

“Wait, really?” she asked. She was assuming that “bonded” was what turians used for the human term “married,” but that seemed strange. He nuzzled against her neck again, and she felt his three fingers spread over the bare skin of her stomach, the soft pads of his fingers tracing her abdominal muscles.

“Really,” he confirmed. “It’s a pretty big gesture of trust, and it’s not something that can be reciprocated. Turian women have much shorter tongues than turian men. It doesn’t really work with all the teeth. It’s...really rare to have that kind of trust.”

“Why wouldn’t a couple that’s been married for decades trust each other with that?” she asked, mystified and temporarily distracted from the sensations he was causing. She pulled her neck away from his mouth and turned in his embrace, tilting her head so she could rest her forehead against his brow plates. He seemed to like it when she did that.

“Most turian marriages are arranged,” he explained, his breath warming her face. “Your parents find you a nice girl, you court for a few months to make sure you’re compatible with each other, then you have your bonding ceremony and that’s that. Affection usually develops over time, but it isn’t like we’re out here seeking it. Turians don’t often choose their partners unless it’s with another species, usually asari if it’s a first bonding.”

“Why does that matter?” she asked.

“Asari can reproduce with anyone. Having children to carry on your clan’s honor is the ultimate purpose of bonding. No one would care if a widower who already had children decided that a hanar was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But if it was a first bonding? Social shunning at best and outright ostracism at worst.”

“Hanar? Those floating jellyfish things?” she asked, momentarily arrested by the hilarious idea of Garrus with pink tentacles wrapped around his limbs. Her mental picture of Garrus was fighting them, though, so she wished him well and abandoned the image.

“Fine,” Garrus sighed in an exaggerated way. “No one would care if a turian bonded a human for the second bonding, but the social repercussions would be fearsome if it was their first. Asari can produce children that can become turian citizens. Humans can’t.”

“Hey, now!” Shepard protested. “There’s plenty of ways to have kids without biological reproduction!”

“They’d have to be legally related to the turian in question,” he said. “Then they’re entitled to basic turian citizenship, but they’d have to complete their mandatory service to the Hierarchy to go beyond that, same as any other turian. Asari parthenogenesis technically only uses their partner’s genetic code to randomize their own, but legally, the children are the offspring of both.”

“What, you don’t do adoption?” she asked.

“Of course we do! But unwanted children are almost never an issue because of how our reproductive systems work – our groin plates don’t open unless we’re receptive, and turian females have a lot of, uh, internal control – and orphaned children are always adopted within the same clan. I have an aunt on my mom’s side that’s actually her distant cousin, but her parents died when she was young, so my grandfather volunteered to take her. It’s considered a great honor to take a child in that way, and my mother was delighted she got a sister that was the same age. Named my younger sister after her, actually.”

“Huh,” she said thoughtfully. That was in line with what Josinae had talked about the other day. Still, she hadn’t really considered the intricacies of interspecies relationships before. Not until she was cuddled up inside one.

“Besides, a human would be a problem anyway, given that we had that little incident twenty years ago,” he mused. “I don’t even know how people here are going to feel about, um, this. As a casual thing, I mean.”

“Oh,” she said, even more quietly than before. Okay, so this wasn’t a serious thing, and certainly not the start of a “relationship.” Turians did casual sex a lot. Well, damn it, she could, too! She’d already pushed past the hardest part for her: starting. It felt so strangely comfortable to be wrapped up in his arms. The idea of doing this with anyone before had been repellant, but he was just so different from a human that it didn’t seem awful.

She’d done a lot of reading on the topic of human sexuality when she got to the academy, desperately seeking information that she never learned in her lost childhood and teenaged years. She wanted to be prepared for what happened when she finally managed to talk herself into something. It hadn’t gone well when she finally had pushed herself to jump into bed with a human, but she had an opportunity here that she couldn’t pass up. If it only lasted a night, she could deal with that.

“I mean, getting back to the original question, oral sex is pretty routine and casual for humans.”

“All the cultural context, and you’re still asking me for that?” he asked. His voice in the darkness was tinged with such disbelieving hope that she had to reach up to cup his face with one hand. His mandible fluttered under her palm.

“Yes, I am. Here, let’s trade actual information instead of just fumbling blindly around and hoping for the best.” She released his face to reach down and pull his hand away from her stomach and tugged it up to rest on one of her breasts. “This is what we humans call a ‘breast,’ although there are a bunch of slang words for them, too.”

“What are they for?” he asked curiously. His palm rubbed against her nipple, and she felt it pucker in response, sending an aroused bolt through her stomach. She had to suppress her moan. Ohhh, that’s what that feels like.

“Feeding babies, but they double as an erogenous zone,” she said, unable to stop herself from arching up into his touch just a bit.

“Huh, I forgot mammals do that,” he said, squeezing a little.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “just like that. Not too hard. The nipple in the middle is very sensitive.”

Her back felt suddenly cold as he propped himself up on his other arm. She only had a brief moment to wonder what he was doing before his chest plates pushed into her shoulder as he leaned down. Something warm and wet replaced his palm on her nipple.

His tongue, she realized hazily, remembering how he’d used it on her neck when they grappled in the showers. She knew it was long, but she didn’t realize how much control over it he had. She gasped as she felt it wrap around her stiff nipple.

His hand moved to knead at her other breast. A wordless moan slipped out of her as her arousal flared at the sensations. Her hand drifted between her legs and she lazily stroked herself in time with his squeezes. It was languidly glorious.

He pulled away from her with a growl and grabbed her hand away. “That’s my job,” he said sternly.

“But you were doing such a good job where you were,” she whimpered.

“Show me what to do,” he said in her ear. His hand released hers and he used it to massage between her legs, cupping her completely. Her hips gave a little involuntary jerk. “Can I turn on the light? I want to be able to see you.”

“Yes,” she said. He pulled away from her – she practically whined at the loss of his touch – and reached up to turn her bunk light on at the lowest setting, but she still found herself blinking at the brightness of the light. They looked at each other for a quiet moment before he looked down, seeming almost shy. He leaned in to press his mouth against hers and the pressure of it was the only thing that kept a grin from breaking out on her face.

When he pulled away from his gentle first attempt at a kiss, she rewarded him with a smile. He ducked his head a little as if he were bashful, then reached out to carefully trace her lips with a talon.

“This is good, right?” he asked. “A smile?”

“Yes,” she assured him. “It means I’m happy. Sort of like when you push your mandibles out. I think.”

“Yes, that’s part of it,” Garrus said, his fingertip resting on her lower lip. “But it’s incredible how many shapes you can make with your face when you don’t have subvocals to communicate your emotions.”

Shepard reached over to trail a matching finger down his mandible. “Maybe turians developed subvocals because your faces are so inflexible. Not very many shades of expression with these things.”

“Maybe,” he allowed.

They rested like that for a moment, their fingers on each other’s faces. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, but it revealed his intense gaze, resting on her like a physical weight. Then his eyes dropped to her mouth – no, to his finger on her mouth. He lightly trailed his talon down the center of her chin, then twisted his finger to rest the pad of his finger underneath it.

“So soft everywhere,” he murmured. “Your skin is just so impossibly soft.”

“Garrus,” she pleaded in a whisper, something in her desperate for feel more of him on her. More of his fingers, his weight, his look.

He seemed to sense her need. He withdrew his finger from her chin and pushed himself up to crouch over her. She rolled easily underneath him, reaching out to smooth the palms of her hands along the hide of his neck. He held himself above her with just one hand and laid the other flat on her chest between her breasts. The two fingers on the outside flicked out, just long enough to graze her nipples. She arched up off the bed, heaving a gasp at that.

“Garrussss.” She repeated his name, but she couldn’t control the hiss at the end that stole her breath. His eyes were fixed on his hand as she felt him clench it so that just his middle finger rested on her chest. He traced light patterns over her skin, bending over to watch her muscles flex in rapt attention.

Then he swiped over one nipple, bending over so that his eyes only a few inches from her breast. “That is an interesting reaction,” he whispered. His breath only made her nipple pucker harder, and he chuckled as he darted his tongue out to tap against its side. He dragged his tongue upwards to lave his tongue’s entire length along it.

She was embarrassed by how loudly she moaned at that, but he had such a goddamn long tongue that it felt like it went on forever.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice turning her stomach over with its gravelly heat.

“Yes,” she managed to gasp.

“Mmm, noted,” he said with satisfaction. He turned his head to eye the other side of her chest before shifting to stroke and lick her other breast.

“Fuuuu…” she tried to say. He hadn’t even made it all the way down and she was already incoherent. If his touch felt this good up here, how was it going to feel when he was between her legs? She shivered with electric anticipation at the thought.

“So soft,” he marveled again. He cradled her whole breast in his hand, shifting and considering its mass. “I think I like these.”

“I think I like you liking these,” she said breathlessly.

“We just mash up food for our infants,” he said. “It’s incredible that you—”

“Garrus,” she interrupted, her urge to laugh cutting through her complete arousal. “I don’t need a comparative biology lesson in the middle of sex.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” she assured him.

It was kind of sweet, if a bit dorky. If he was socially awkward, that would explain a few things. Maybe he hadn’t only been rude to her before; maybe he just didn’t know how to talk to people. It had been a rare occurrence for her to catch him interacting with any of their cohort. Maybe he avoided it because he just wasn’t good at it. Well, she’d been shy and quiet when she first got to Grissom Academy. She could help him with that.

His talon trailing down her sternum snapped her out of her thoughts, her skin quivering underneath his touch. He spread all three of his fingers out over her stomach when he got to her abdominal muscles, dragging the pads of his fingers around their outline. He was staring at them intently, studying their curves.

“Does this feel nice?” he asked softly.

“Garrus, everything you’re doing feels nice,” she said.

“But not like when I touch up there,” he said, his eyes flashing back up to her chest for a moment.

“No, not the same. But you touching me anywhere feels really good.” She reached up to lightly stroke the unplated part of his arm that was propping him up. “Does it feel good when I do that?”

His hand left her stomach to grasp hers and gently move it to his inner wrist.

“Here,” he said. His eyes slid closed as she traced small circles over his hide, the vibrations of his subvocals deepening.

“That feels good?” she asked. He just nodded. “Anywhere else I should try?”

His eyes opened back up to meet hers, one mandible canting out. He pulled her hand from his wrist and laid it back down on the bed. “Yes, but we can try them later. Right now, I want to try everywhere on you.”

Just like his subvocals, his voice had deepened into a rougher octave. Those words in that voice made her tremble with desire.

He leaned back to kneel between her legs, studying her whole body in smooth sweeps of his gaze. “Where should I go next?”

He sounded genuinely curious, like he was actually asking for direction and not trying to be smooth. From what she’d read in some of the cheesy romance novels that had circulated among the teenaged girls at Grissom, that should have been a turn-off. Instead, she found it strangely thrilling, and the coarseness of his flanging voice just made her desire more intense.

“Honestly,” she said hoarsely, “I think you could touch me anywhere and it would be fantastic. I feel like I’m about to float off the bed.”

He reached out to rub a finger along one of her jutting hip bones. “What’s this?” he asked. “Seems almost turian.”

“My hip,” she said, but his finger slid upwards towards the skin of her abdomen, and she moaned at the sensation. She had no idea she was sensitive there.

“Sharp bone under soft skin,” he whispered, his voice reverential with awe. He seemed enamored with the texture of her skin, and how he looked at her…

“Garrus. Vakarian,” she pronounced. “I am going to die if you don’t touch me down there. Right now.”

He quickly moved his hand to cup her between her legs again. She sighed in relief at the sensation, but then had to giggle at the panic on his face.

“Garrus, that’s an exaggeration. I’m not going to die,” she said through her laughter.

“Oh,” he said. He sounded a bit hurt, and she shut up immediately.

“Sorry about laughing,” she apologized.

“It’s okay. I’m not…I’m not really much good at this stuff,” he admitted.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

His eyes met hers again. Their blue intensity made her breathing hitch. Had anyone ever seen her so completely before?

“Tell me what to do?” his said, his soft voice lilting up at the end just enough to make it a question.

“I’m…not really much good at this stuff, either,” she admitted. “Not a lot of experience. I can give you a roadmap, though?”

He nodded at her and lifted his hand away. She replaced it with hers and gently spread her lips apart. “This top bit is the most important one,” she said, giving it a gentle swipe with one finger. The concentration in his eyes as he watched her motion made a little jolt of desire shoot through her stomach.

“That’s convenient,” he said, leaning forward eagerly and stretching his hand back out. “It’s on the inside for us.”

“Be gentle!” she protested, pushing his hand away. “It’s very sensitive, so don’t just stay on it. Touching everywhere down there will feel good – inside, too – but that’s the most sensitive spot.”

“Please let me touch you,” he pleaded. His pupils were wide again, even in the dark light, and the whining need in his voice nearly made her hips come off the bed.

“Go for it, big guy,” she whispered, trying to keep her own desperate desire out of her voice. Based on the smoldering look he gave her before he lowered his face back down, she’d failed miserably.

He didn’t touch her right away, despite his eager entreaty. Instead, he studied the lines of her body as if memorizing them. Or maybe plotting the best lanes of attack. She shuddered slightly at the thought. His eyes flipped up to hers briefly, then back down as his mandibles flared out. His face was so close to her that one brushed the inside of her thigh. She had absolutely no control over the high-pitched moan she let out at his touch.

“Everything is sensitive,” he mused, glancing at the spot. He seemed to be appreciating it, his gaze lingering in a way that made her arousal spike.

He finally reached out to touch the pad of one finger against the place on her skin where his mandible had. Her shuddering moan was quieter this time, but still enough to goad him onward. He slowly trailed the finger up to the juncture where her leg met her body, layering several appreciative touches over the tendons that stood out under her skin.

His finger tilted so he could trail one featherlight touch of his talon through her public hair. “You have a fringe down here, too,” he observed quietly.

“Hair,” she corrected in a breathless gasp. “It’s called hair.”

She almost came undone right then and there when he leaned his face closer to take a deep, appreciative sniff.

“You smell incredible,” he said, his breath blowing warmly over her like the first breaking breeze of spring. “I bet you taste even better.”

“Try me and find out.” Fuck, now she sounded whiny with need.

“Yes, ma’am,” he acknowledged with enthusiasm. She almost screamed when his tongue parted her inner lips in one broad stroke, then dragged upwards to caress along the entire path from her opening to her clit. The very tip of his tongue dipped into her hole as it swiped past, and she bucked her hips into his face at the sensation of the broad flatness of his tongue rubbing her clit and the dexterous tip inside her.

“Fu…” she managed to gasp.

The rest of his tongue pulled away as just the front edge dragged upwards to swirl around her clit. She was left gulping for air when the touch of his tongue finally left her skin.

“Oh, yeah,” he said smugly. “You taste amazing.”

She felt a heated wetness between her legs that wasn’t from his mouth. He quickly set to licking it all up, each pass of his tongue building up a now-recognizable pressure between her hips. Fuck, was she going to come already? He hadn’t even hardly touched her!

She felt a sharp talon at her entrance and tensed for a moment before he carefully eased it inside of her. With how wet she was, his finger slipped inside easily as he flicked his tongue over her clit, and she covered her mouth in a futile attempt to muffle her cry.

“Does this feel good?” he asked softly. She couldn’t even reply and had to settle for a nod and a thumbs up on the hand that wasn’t clamped over her face.

“Good,” he said, then lowered his head and got back to work. His finger gently worked inside her as his tongue did on the outside. He seemed to want to make her last, since he avoided her sensitive bundle of nerves for more time than she would have liked. He hummed in pleasure at the taste of her, adding to the vibrations of his subvocals. The pressure building up around his finger was intense.

She tried to warn him. “Garrus, I think I’m gonna…”

His soft growl and quiet demand of “Come for me” would have done it for her on its own, but he reattacked her clit with an aggressiveness that surprised her, his tongue destroying any last shred of reality she held. Her eyes clenched shut as she came with ferocity, pleasure exploding through her body as her hips ground against his face. His free arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her against him as his finger penetrated up to the knuckle.

Her cry this time was unmuffled as she gripped the bedsheets with both hands to try to keep herself down. “Ga-a-aarrus,” came her keening cry.

His touch gentled as she rode through her orgasm, pulling back to let it flutter through her. She felt herself go completely limp, and he carefully laid her back down on the bed. His finger eased out of her as his tongue trailed away from her skin. He seemed reluctant as he pulled away. She huffed as she came back down from her high. Fuck, how was an alien so damn good at that?

“Shit, Garrus,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, “have you been with a human before? Because that was really fucking good.”

She felt him climbing back up her body, measuring his progress by the tiny shudders in her body as his amazing tongue flicked randomly against her skin. “I’ve never—” flick “—actually been this—” flick “—intimate with anyone—”  flick “—both things we’ve done. And I’ve—” flick “—definitely never—” flick “—been with a human,” he said, resting his cheek over her clavicle when he finally reached the top. His mandible followed the curve of her breast, which she found oddly delightful. They fit together in surprising ways.

The first half of what he’d said finally penetrated her brain. “Wait, Garrus, am I your first?” she asked.

“My first what?” he asked.

“The first person you’ve had sex with.”

“I mean, I’ve done a lot. Turians consider lots of things to fall under the term ‘sex,’ but that was the first time I’ve ever been inside anyone, if that’s what you mean. And definitely the first time a woman let me do that, but I explained that already. It was quite an experience, though.” He almost sounded shy. “I wouldn’t mind repeating it. With you, I mean. All of it. If you wanted to, that is.”

Shepard planted a kiss on the brow plate that was so tantalizingly close. “I would like that a lot, Garrus. So, is this going to be a friends-with-benefits thing?”

“A what?” he asked.

“Human term for when two people are friends but they have sex a lot because it’s fun. If turians just do casual sex until their parents pick out a mate for them, it sounds pretty similar to that.”

“Oh, so it’s a mutually beneficial thing? Because they’re blowing off steam?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s not a serious thing or anything.”

“Yeah, turians do that, too,” he agreed.

He’d been holding himself above her body, but she wrapped her arms around his back and tugged him down towards her. He seemed to resist for a moment before gently lowering himself onto her. She sighed happily as they pressed together. His lower torso rested between her legs, and she wrapped them around his waist, pressing herself up and into the vibrations of his body. Feathery aftershocks of her orgasm still made her legs tremble. He felt like a weighted blanket, despite the press of his chest plates into her stomach. Scratch that; the press of his chest plates helped the sensation.

As delightful as this was, though, they still had their serious issues to work out.

“Garrus,” she whispered against the part of his crest immediately above his brow plates. “We still have this thing between us to talk about.”

“Mmm, the sex thing, or the we-hate-each-other thing?” he asked. He was still vibrating against her, so she couldn’t be too upset with him for his flippancy, no matter how hard she tried.

“The hatred thing, you dork. We have to actually be friends for us to be friends-with-benefits. Enemies-with-benefits sounds really hard to manage,” she said, laughing.

“Do you still hate me?” he asked curiously.

“Hard to hate someone who makes me orgasm that hard,” she said, only half-joking.

“And I could hardly hate…what was your phrase? My first? So, I guess we’re good.”

“As much as I wish that were true, we need to actually work this out,” she admonished, gently stroking the soft skin on the back of his head under his fringe to communicate that she wasn’t mad. His resulting audible purr was frankly adorable, but not very conducive to discussion.

“Gaaarrus,” she drawled, savoring how his name felt in her mouth. She felt like an idiot for how foolish she was feeling over someone she couldn’t stand five hours ago. Maybe she was separating the idea of “Vakarian” from the idea of “Garrus” too much. She supposed that was workable. This “Garrus” seemed like a much nicer guy.

“Please try again later. Garrus is currently unavailable,” he muttered. Hmm, that must be a sensitive spot. She stopped her rubbing to gently grasp the horns of his fringe between her fingers and give it a soft shake. He growled at her, but it had no depth, and he didn’t do anything else in retaliation.

“Seriously, we need to talk,” she insisted.

“Fine. You want to know the truth? I hated you because you were human, and I thought you’d drag me down with you. You clearly out-performing expectations, so there’s no problem.” He almost sounded like the sullen side of his personality for a moment, but he nestled his cheek against her collarbone in a tender way that belied his tone.

“Then why did you trip me on the range yesterday?” she noted.

“I did not,” he protested.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Stop denying it! I saw your foot whip out right before I tripped.”

“And punching me was a good reaction?”

They did sound hostile now, which was at odds with how closely they clung to each other. She realized she had her arms wrapped around the back of his neck and under his carapace in a near choke. She also realized his hands had such a tight grip on her hips that his talons were on the verge of piercing her skin.

“No, but you’ve been an asshole since I got here, and I don’t know why.” She sighed and loosened her grip on his neck without letting go. “I’m sorry for punching you, though.”

He turned his head slightly to nuzzle at the soft skin just above her collarbone. “I’m sorry for tripping you. For what it’s worth, it was an accident. I’m not used to moving in close quarters with someone. Infiltrator work is usually solo or at a distance.”

Eh, she could be generous and let him save face with that excuse. Not that she’d let the opportunity pass by for a little teasing. “Well, we can’t all be close quarters experts.”

“Hey!” he protested into her skin. “I happen to also be a hand-to-hand expert, which I think I demonstrated a few hours ago.”

“Oh, sure, expert at dirty moves!”

“It’s not dirty if it works,” he said smugly.

“You almost blew my knee out!” Her genetic enhancements meant her tendons and ligaments were far too tough for his light kick to have done that, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered.

They were quiet for a few minutes, their hands wandering over each other’s bodies. She couldn’t see very much from this angle, so she set to mapping his plates and skin by touch. His hide was strangely soft, which contrasted nicely with the roughness of his plates. Those felt like pumice stones, although they were oddly yielding, squeezing a little where they pressed against her body.

“Jane?” he asked softly as he rubbed small circles over the skin of her waist.

“Mmm?” she asked.

“If we’re being honest, I’ve been jealous of you,” he admitted.

“Of me?!” she asked, shocked by his admission. What did he have to be jealous of?

“Kryik is obviously watching out for you, although Meritus seems determined to undermine that.”

She ignored the dig about Kryik; it was probably true anyway. “Meritus hates you, too, you know,” she said instead.

“Your friends tell you that?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yes, they did,” she said. “Seems like a stupid way to build a meritocracy if you can’t be successful without drawing accusations of nepotism. As far as I can tell, you’ve earned everything you have. Your talents, your skills, and you place here didn’t come from your parents or who they know.”

“That may be true, but the lieutenant will never see that. He’s not the only one,” he said bitterly.

Shepard stopped to consider that for a minute. None of their cohort had said one negative thing about him to her, even though their discord had been on full display. Pylinax had gone so far as to tell her how much he hoped she and Garrus made it to the Forge so they could be unleashed to their full potential. She was sure she’d caught Vorinus staring at him in open aesthetic appreciation a few times, and Josinae had admired his skills, even if she pitied him for his family expectations.

“I don’t think anyone here except Meritus feels that way. The rest of the cohort thinks you’re great. Josinae said you’re the only one here with potential for a triple-fifteen, and everyone agreed.”

He snorted. “Those are the generals. I’ll never be a general. I want to be a Spectre by the time I’m 25. Time there would count for turian service, so maybe I’ll hit the triple-fifteen that way. Doubtful, though. Spectres don’t usually make it that long before retirement. Or death.”

“What’s a Spectre? Some special turian thing?” she asked. She’d never heard of it.

“No, not a turian thing. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. They serve the Citadel Council directly and operate independently. They’re elite operatives selected from almost every Council species. They carry out missions that keep peace in the galaxy, and they don’t let injustice stand.” He sounded almost reverent by the time he finished.

“Huh, sounds like an interesting gig. It also sounds like the first step is to get you graduated at the top of this class. I have a few ideas about that. They may offend your turian sensibilities, but I think they’ll work.”

He snorted again. “There’s the other reason I’m jealous, Jane. Do you have any idea how much of a natural leader you are? I’ve watched everyone gravitate towards you for over two weeks, and it’s like you don’t even know what you’re doing to people. I don’t have leadership ability like that. I do better on my own.”

“What? Yes, you do!” she said, remembering how he’d taken Justus to the side during a lunch break to correct his machine pistol form. Justus had been attentive and grateful. Shepard got the impression that the turian military didn’t give their Cabal troops much training on anything but making strong barriers.

“Justus’ machine pistol accuracy went up by 23% after just twenty minutes with you. Time you didn’t have to spend with him, by the way. And I saw what you did for that guy on the ruck march. He’s barely got a couple inches on me and he wasn’t going to make it all the way through until you took some of the weight from his pack and gave him your rat bar.”

She let his silence stand, tracing patterns on the back of his skull with her fingers. She caressed the edges of the thick overlapping plates that covered his spine on his neck, following them up to the underside of his fringe.

“I know him from the 5th Forward Combat Battalion in the 79th Flotilla,” Garrus finally admitted softly. “Feris is going to be a fantastic engineering officer, but he’s struggled with the handicap of his height for his whole career. It won’t matter after he commissions, but it’s stupid enough to matter right now. I can’t stand to see him go back to what he was doing before. He needs to be in the rear designing firing algorithms and weapons for the Hierarchy as an officer, not ruined on the front lines doing basic mining and sapping as a corporal. It’s a criminal waste of his talents.”

Her heart softened even more at the plaintive tone of his voice. It appeared her rude asshole of a turian partner had deeply sensitive streaks of justice and fairness. “Excellent sniper and tactician, thorough teacher, and sharp personnelist. No wonder they think you’re going to be a general.”

“Ha,” he said tonelessly. “If you think you’ve seen my tactical ability now, just wait until we get into the real tactical situations later. You might be surprised to find how little I agree with traditional turian tactics when we get to employing them versus learning them in an institutional setting. It’s why Captain Kryik took an interest in me. He’s going to become a Spectre, and he’s going to make sure I have a shot at it, too.”

“Hmph, sounds like I’m not the only one he’s watching out for,” she said gently. “What did he say to you at dinner the other day?”

“Oh, uh, that they had aerial drones watching all of us and he saw what I did with Feris’ weights. He said that if anyone but him had seen the footage, we’d have been eliminated,” Garrus confessed quietly. “I didn’t realize it was prohibited. I guess it doesn’t normally occur to anyone to help someone that isn’t their partner.”

“Oh,” she said.

“He also said…” Garrus trailed off. She let the silence sit for a moment before prodding him.

“Said what?”

“Said he was proud of me for doing it. That it was the right thing to do.”

“Garrus?”

“Yes?”

“I think we’re going to get along just fine from here on out. If you can trust me. Can you do that?”

He was dead silent for several moments. She had plenty of time to hope she hadn’t misjudged this before he finally spoke.

“After the trust you’ve given me? Spirits, you humans have no idea about anything. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s be partners for real.”

Chapter Text

Things seemed much better when they woke up the next morning. She was worried that That Asshole Vakarian would reappear and supplant her new friend, but he was as sweetly attentive in the morning as he’d been in the night.

They got up early to get themselves real showers, though it was impossible to resist the temptation to engage in some extracurricular activities. They almost managed to limit themselves to sharing a shower and exploring each other in the bright light of the bathroom. The way the water sheeted over his plates absolutely fascinated her; she’d never noticed how damn pretty it was. It was like a waterfall cascading over sparking silver veins inlaid on bright gray rock.

Garrus seized on her distraction by wrapping her up from behind with one arm and using his newfound knowledge and one oversized finger on his free hand to rub her to a quick, breathless orgasm. He held her close as she rode its waves, his subvocals purring reassuringly against her. Shepard could definitely get used to this.

After their shower, he watched in some concern as she applied lotion to the reddened skin of her inner thighs.

“That didn’t look like that yesterday,” he commented, his mandibles dipping downward. Must be his frown.

“Just a little chafing from your plates,” she explained. She reached out to tap the plates over his groin and grinned when they shifted a little under her touch. That explained that particular mystery. “Human skin is sensitive.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, I should have realized. And you have it on your back, too,” he said softly and extended his hand. “May I?”

She tried not to blush at his concern but had to hide her face behind her hair as she spread a little lotion into his hand. He gently applied it to her back, the soothing coolness easing a heat she hadn’t even noticed was there. How hard had they been cuddling last night? He seemed hesitant at first about the idea, but was anything but by the end of the night.

She felt well-rested and relaxed as she stood by for inspection after they’d finished in the showers, got ready for the day, and cleaned up her disheveled bunk. She had to stop herself from bouncing on her toes and whistling. Her mood was so good she didn’t care one bit when Lieutenant Meritus stopped by them, inhaled deeply through his nose, and gave Garrus an indecipherable look, his mandibles slack and spread.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Vakarian?” he hissed. Garrus didn’t say anything; he just gazed impassively back. Shepard was proud of his self-control.

Meritus moved closer to him and loomed into his face. “What would your father say if he could see you now? Fucking a human.” Disgust threaded through every word.

Oh. He could tell. Turians had an excellent sense of smell, but she hadn’t realized it was good enough to smell that. Even after the shower? She thought they’d avoided getting too much in her sheets, but they must have slipped up somewhere.

Garrus raised one side of his brow plates. “As ordered by Captain Kryik, we fixed our teamwork issue, sir. It won’t be a problem from now on, sir.”

His tone was even and respectful, but Meritus recoiled as if Garrus had physically struck him. He blinked in obvious shock for a moment before recovering himself and snaking back to whisper in Garrus’ ear. “Disgusting. Have you forgotten how many of us died correcting their reckless disregard for Council law? I’d give you so many demerits that you’d graduate at the bottom of your class if I thought it would do any good.”

Shepard restrained herself from exploding at that. Captain Kryik wouldn’t let Meritus do that, for one. For two, that meant Meritus thought Garrus was going to graduate no matter what. And for three – and most importantly – she was going to make sure that Garrus’ score was so high by the time they finished Reception that no one would have a chance in hell of catching up to him. As satisfying as it would be to mouth off to Meritus right now, she didn’t need the negative impact on their score. She’d let their achievements stand in rebuff to his prejudice.

When neither of them did anything except passively stand at parade rest, Meritus seemed to get frustrated. He stepped back and loudly announced, “Well, you were supposed to get a shot at improving your score on the two-person rush range today, but I just realized you haven’t done a distance run in a several days. And no, you whiny pups, your ruck march doesn’t count! Five minutes to the line!”

He walked out of the barracks without a look at a single set of other bunks. The usual scramble and groaning ensued, although Kyratus managed to find her before they tumbled out of the door.

“Thought you weren’t attracted to aliens, Shepard,” he said, his mandibles flaring in a grin. “I mean, I can see why you’d pick this one – the Cipritine blue clan markings on those gray plates are just gorgeous! And that fringe! – but you had the opportunity for greatness right here. Faaaaar better than some inexperienced juvenile.”

He gestured with a sweeping arm down his body and finished with a flourish to the side. Garrus tensed and growled at him. “Easy, Vakarian,” he smirked, “she already turned me down and went for you. Though, if you’re interested, I’d be more than happy to join you both in your bunk. You must have some real natural talent, based on what we heard last night. Bet I could show you a few things, though.”

“Quit trying to get a rise out of my partner and get out on the line, Kyratus. Teasing him is my job!” Shepard said with a laugh. She shoved him away to emphasize her point. Garrus glared at his back as he left to join his partner. Kyratus had finally introduced the turian without face paint as Taris a few days ago at their evening socialization when Jane got tired of waiting for an introduction and just asked point blank. Taris had seemed surprised she’d asked.

“Ignore him,” she advised, reaching out to squeeze Garrus’ shoulder. “He’ll do anything to get a rise out of anyone. He doesn’t mean most of what he says, and I’m pretty sure he’s masking a lot of deep insecurities.”

“Or maybe he’s just an opportunistic asshole,” Garrus shot back, knocking her hand away.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get mad at me over him.”

“I’m mad you’re defending him,” he said, dipping his head to glare at her. Well, it looked like That Asshole Vakarian was going to make a reappearance after all. She glared right back at him, her happy mood disintegrating.

“I thought we didn’t hate each other anymore,” she said, knowing there was more sarcasm in her tone than was wise.

“We don’t.”

They glared at each other for a few seconds before Shepard broke away and threw up her hands in frustration. “Let’s just get out on the line before we’re late.”

“Fine.”

Despite the difficulty of it, running long distances was good for one thing besides building aerobic fitness: it broke down her will to be angry with the frustrating man trailing in her wake. She didn’t keep her pace slow, but he pounded after her with his usual steady determination.

Her annoyance with Garrus’ stubbornness had faded by the end of the first quick leg. Still, she didn’t feel much like eating when she flopped down in the end point clearing. The medic that was familiar with human anatomy seemed to sense her mood and didn’t come over to bother her with the usual pointless medical checks. Which was good; she could do distance runs just fine, thank you very much.

She stared up at the sky for a while in contemplation. Palaven had a blue sky just like Earth, but the shade was just slightly off from what her brain was expecting. It was enough to be disorienting if she looked at it for too long, but she stared at it now, letting the slight wrongness settle in her mind. She was well over two weeks down and less than ten to go until she’d be back in Tokyo. The sky there would be the right color and she’d be all right again. Strangely attractive turian jerks who were naturally really good with their tongues wouldn’t bother her there.

The thump of a ration pack landing by her head startled her out of her contemplation. Garrus settled himself beside her and ripped into his own. She sighed and sat up to do the same.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, not quite looking at her. “I don’t like Kyratus. Seeing you so friendly with him…I guess it upsets me.”

“Oh,” she said, startled at his willingness to apologize and talk. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“Something about him just makes me uncomfortable,” he explained. “His subvocals are saying a lot more than I think you realize. But also…he’s a little too much for me. I didn’t exactly have a lot of people like him around growing up.”

“What, casual sex with other guys not much of a thing in your tier of high turian society? Or are you just jealous that he never tried to sleep with you?” she teased.

He seemed to take it seriously and glared at her. “What?! No! I’ve tried lots of things with other…oh, you’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I do that a lot,” she said, shaking her head in amusement at him. It was interesting which part of her joke he’d taken offense to. “You’re so serious about everything that it’s hard to resist.”

“I have a sense of humor,” he protested. “You just haven’t seen it.”

“Look, Vakarian, I’m not going to stop being friendly with people you don’t like,” she said.

“I’m not asking you to, Shepard,” he insisted.

She could tell this conversation wasn’t going to end well again if they kept it up, so she decided to abruptly change it. “Hey, so last night, what did you mean when you said I was so open for you?”

He stared at her in surprise, his mouth hanging open just a little bit. She reached out and gently pushed up on his chin to close it for him, then gave one of his mandibles a stroke before withdrawing her hand. She suppressed the tremble in her gut at how nervous the affectionate gesture made her.

“Uh, do you really want to talk about that here?” he asked, glancing across the clearing at the junior enlisted cadre. They all seemed suddenly busy with looking in every direction except at her and Garrus. “Turian hearing is probably better than you think it is.”

“All the turian senses seem to be better than I think they are. We can save it for the run back,” she offered.

“Sure,” he said, gathering his trash. “Speaking of the run back, I’m ready if you are.”

“Yeah,” she said, pushing her half-eaten entrée back into the bag to throw away, but pocketing her ration bar as usual. “I’m not really hungry.”

They were quickly on their way, settling back into their normal pace. Garrus had gotten a lot better at running over the last couple weeks and settled into his rangy slow lope that Shepard was able to match him with a dogtrot that she could keep up all day.

“So?” she asked. He glanced down at her.

“Um, I think I mentioned something last night about turian groin plates?” he said hesitantly.

“Yes, I remember. They don’t open unless you want them to, right?”

“Not quite,” he said. She glanced up to see him shaking his head. “They don’t open unless we’re receptive to having sex. After how antagonistic we’ve been with each other, do you honestly think I wanted to open up for you? The sex part, though…I was pretty receptive to that.”

He had one mandible flared out and she couldn’t help but laugh. He wasn’t very good at it, but it deserved some recognition. “Garrus, are you teasing me?!”

“Maybe a little. I can make jokes, too, Jane.”

She was too busy looking at him to pay attention to the ground and tripped over a rock she didn’t see. He caught her arm and held it until she regained her balance, neither one of them slowing their pace. “Thanks,” she said.

“Of course.”

They didn’t say anything else for a few hundred meters before Shepard decided to try again. “So, when you said that I was open for you…”

“This is really embarrassing to talk about,” he complained. “It’s just something everyone knows.”

“You’re not a child. Be an adult about it,” she retorted.

He stared at the ground that passed under their feet as he spoke instead of looking at her. “How much a turian woman’s plates open for someone and how deeply into her they can penetrate indicates how receptive she is to that person. For us guys, it’s just that our plates open and we, uh, slip out with a little encouragement. Most women, though, even if they’re receptive, don’t open all the way up. Inside, I mean. It prevents pregnancy. Pushing past her limits is painful, and no decent turian man would ever try.”

He sounded weirdly clinical about it, but she shrugged and accepted it. “Artificial turian birth control isn’t a thing?”

“Well, yeah, it is,” he said. “But we haven’t exactly adapted to it yet in evolutionary terms. Spirits, we haven’t even all adapted in social terms. My parents…well, they’re a bit traditional. They’re on board with the technological advancements, but the people I grew up around… it’s frowned on for a woman to open up even some of the way if it’s not with her mate. And it’s not like anyone has invited me to try since I joined the military and left that social tier when I turned 15.”

“So, because I’m human, I come off as fully open to you?”

“Yeah,” he said, still staring at the ground as they moved. “It’s sort of intoxicating for a turian male, and it’s almost impossible to resist. I was taught that we evolved that way to ensure reproduction. Turian women ultimately have control over it, but a man’s participation is almost guaranteed. Even the pleasure part is mostly oriented around them, both by biology and cultural conditioning. After they get theirs, the encounter is usually done.”

“You don’t have a choice?” Shepard asked. The thought made her deeply uncomfortable enough that she barely paid attention to the rest.

“I mean, we do,” he said. “A woman also wouldn’t invite a man she wasn’t sure was already interested. But what we did last night – both times! – usually doesn’t happen except between mates. Aside from that, we have a lot of casual intimacy with both men and women.”

“I noticed,” she said dryly. “How does that work without, um, penetration?”

“Hands and fingers, mostly.”

Ah, that was why he was so good with them, although he wasn’t far behind with his tongue.

They were silent for another kilometer as she turned the new information over in her mind. In turian terms, she was always running around ready for sex that could end with a pregnancy. When they’d grappled naked, it must have felt for him like she was inviting him to reproduce, no matter that it wasn’t physically possible. And it was an invitation he would have a nearly impossible chance of declining just because of his biology.

He’d said yesterday that he didn’t know why he wanted her. Did he not actually want her? Was he just responding the way a turian man normally would to an open turian woman? He seemed fine – happy, even – with what had happened, but she doubted he’d let her know if he wasn’t. They’d done well enough with being direct and honest with each other; she should probably just ask.

“Can I ask you something?” she finally said when they slowed to a walk to give him a break.

“You’ve never needed my permission before,” he said, sounding amused. Okay, that one was actually a decent joke.

“Yesterday, you said you didn’t know why you wanted me,” she said hesitantly.

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve been driving me crazy,” he said. “Who wants crazy?”

“Fair,” she said, biting back her immediate urge to point out that he apparently did. “Do you think it…it was your biology? Like, you didn’t have a choice about wanting me?”

To her surprise, he burst out laughing. “No, I definitely had a choice, and I chose to go for it. The biology part just meant that I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected. My mother has always been very free about explaining things to me, so I really didn’t expect that kind of experience until I was trying for a kid with my future wife.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling only a little mollified. “I’m a little sensitive about consent.”

It was her turn to stare at the ground as they ran. He stopped short and seized her arm so he could turn her to face him. She settled for staring at his chest instead of looking at his face.

“Jane,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle on her name. “Is it a general sensitivity, or is it from personal experience?”

“I don’t like talking about it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Despite the heat, she felt cold inside.

“That’s all right, you don’t have to,” he said, his voice still soft. “But I can show you tonight just how much of my enthusiastic consent you have. I suddenly understand a bit better what so many turians see in asari. Wonder if when word finally gets around that we’ll start being a little more open to humans as well. Spirits, if you want me to, I’ll show you right here how much of my enthusiastic consent you have. I don’t think I could sink any lower in Meritus’ eyes, but we can certainly try.”

She felt the coldness inside her evaporate, escaping as a puff of laughter from her mouth. He really did have a sense of humor. And, “spirits” help her, she actually liked it.

“Tonight will do just fine,” she said, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the path. “C’mon, let’s not let our score drop too low.”

He laughed and let her drag him back into a trot.

Unfortunately, it was another two-round day. Shepard was much hungrier on their second trip to the end point and wolfed down her ration. She was sure turians weren’t meant to run this much, but Garrus was doing a good job keeping up with her. She set a much slower pace for him on both legs of the second round.

That night, he convinced her that the previous evening’s activities had been quite consensual. She also discovered as he let her do her own exploring that his dick not only had ridges, but that it was also blue. He was a little offended by her shocked laughter, but she managed to apologize by climbing on top of him and working through several different angles until she collapsed on top of him in the throes of a gasping mutual orgasm.

She was certainly learning a lot of unexpected things on this exchange program.

----<>----

They got another go at the buddy movement range the following day. She studied its contours and cover as other sets of partners navigated it. There were a couple of elevated perches that she’d noticed their first day here that no one seemed to be using. The closest was on the right side of the range, the farthest on the left. There didn’t appear to be a way up, short of some sheer face rock climbing.

Garrus hovered at her shoulder, studying the layout with her. “Want to take opposite sides?” he asked. “No risk of tripping over each other then.”

“Nah, I’m interested in that sniper perch,” she said, pointing at it. “I bet if we got you up there, you could cover me. I could get across the field and trigger every drone, but you’d be able to destroy anything that got remotely close to me. Then I can cover you as you move up.”

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, “you’re probably right. That sniper perch is perfect, but I don’t see a way up. Maybe there’s a path on the other side?”

“This side is sheltered from the drones’ immediate line of sight from where they launch. I could brace my back against the wall. If you got a running start, I think you could boost yourself off me and get up there.” She cupped her hands together and demonstrated giving him a lift up. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

He nodded down at her and grinned. “Worst thing that happens is we both trip on my spurs and look like idiots.”

“You’ve got the idiot part covered already,” she teased.

“Well, I have to make sure you don’t feel so alone. That’s what partners are for, right?” he shot back, his grin still in place. He loomed over her, and she could practically feel his warmth radiating around her. Not for the first time, she found herself really liking this version of him that was relaxed enough to joke around. Garrus was a much nicer person than that stick-up-his-ass Vakarian.

“Vakarian. Shepard.”

Shepard started, thinking for a moment it was their turn up on the line. There were still several pairs in front of them, however, and she realized the voice came from behind them. They turned as one, their gaze crossing each other’s in shared confusion as they rotated towards one another to find Captain Kryik standing behind them, his arms crossed over his armored chest.

“Captain Kryik, sir,” Garrus greeted him, coming to attention and saluting. She did the same.

His brow plates rose as he stared at them. Shepard felt herself shift uncomfortably under his impassive eyes, suddenly keenly aware of how close she and Garrus were standing to each other.

“Well,” he finally snorted, “I suppose that’s one way to work together. Carry on, candidates.”

He moved away from them, pulling Vel out of line to have a few words with her. She was shaking her head at him, but he didn’t seem mad about it. Whatever it was about must not have been too bad.

“Can you hear them?” Shepard asked Garrus.

“No, he’s being exceptionally quiet,” he replied, his eyes still on the other two turians. His brow plates were furrowed downwards as he contemplated them. “It’s weird. Candidate Galen seems older than I would expect.”

“And you’re younger. There are always outliers,” Shepard pointed out.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s her second attempt or something.”

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Shepard said, remembering back to her second night there when Vel had introduced herself. “Remember when you first showed me the laundry? She talked to me when I was scrubbing my boots. She told me that it wasn’t her first time here and offered to listen if I needed to talk to her about anything.”

“Vakarian! Shepard! Get your spurs on the line!” a cadre instructor shouted, disrupting their conversation. They trotted obediently over, though they had to go around three other pairs that were waiting in line ahead of them. Shepard thought it was odd that they were called up to the front but dismissed it as she felt the usual adrenaline surge through her. She always got excited when it was time to perform, whether it be on the range or in real life.

“I’ll break right to that cover over there,” Garrus muttered under his breath. “It’ll be a good angle to cover you until you can get in position by the elevated rock.”

“I’ll hit that cover directly in front of us to give you time to set up,” she muttered back.

“Got it,” he confirmed, readying his sniper rifle in his hands.

She wished she had her biotic charge for this, but sprinting would have to do for now. “Let’s get it, big guy!”

He looked down at her like he was about to say something, but the timer on the range started with a beep. She dashed for the cover that was only ten meters away. He peeled out to the right, firing a shot as he moved at one of the range drones that appeared. He scored a hit, and it dropped immediately. She hit the rock barrier with a breathless “hmmph,” and immediately popped to the side to shoot at a drone taking aim at Garrus. It dropped, too, and he waved in acknowledgement as he took cover behind the small rock that had caused their scrambling brawl two days prior.

My, how things had changed. She knocked out a couple more drones before he got himself set. “Ready!” he yelled.

“Moving!” she yelled back. She sprinted out of her cover and towards the sniper’s nest. She could hear the tap of drone shots impacting the ground behind her feet, followed by the deep, echoing boom of Garrus’ sniper rifle as soon as she’d cleared his firing lane. A few shots from him and the pattering sound stopped chasing her. She grinned as she sprinted the last twenty meters to hit the wall out of sight of the drones.

She clipped her shotgun to her belt, dropped into a squat, and leaned back against the wall. “Set!”

His sniper rifle barrel disappeared from the top of the rock. “Moving!”

He burst over the top of his cover and sprinted straight towards her. She interlaced her fingers and braced her forearms on her thighs. She was reminded of just how damn fast turians were when he was on her position in a matter of a few seconds, his eyes laser focused on her hands. One of his feet went up to couch itself perfectly in their cradle, and she heaved her whole body upwards and felt him push off just as she reached the maximum extension with her arms. His feet dangled just over her head for a moment before they disappeared.

She pulled her shotgun back off her belt just in time to snap a shot off at a drone that appeared around the corner. “You set?” she shouted.

“Almost…” came his muted response.

The sound of his rifle sputtering back to life put a grin on her face.

“Set! Give me a few seconds and I’ll clear them out.”

“What, and let you have all the fun?” she retorted.

She crept to the edge of the outcropping, his rifle steadily booming above her. She peered out and raised her shotgun to take down a couple on her own that were just under the overhang of his vantage point, bobbing in typical combat VI confusion of which opponent to target. “Let me know when I can move,” she called out.

“Stick to cover and you’re good to go,” he called back. “You were right; I’ve got a perfect sight line to anything that pops up.”

She nodded to herself and called out “moving!” before stepping out of her sheltered position. It didn’t take very long for her to work her way across the field, Garrus knocking down drones almost as fast as they could appear. She took cover at the farthest point, waving her hand over her head. Six drones whirred to life in front of her. Her shotgun took two while the rest appeared to drop with a faint ping-ping-ping-ping as Garrus hit them from a distance, the sharp thunder from his sniper rifle an echo chasing the lightning strikes of impact.

She felt an eager anticipation swell inside her for the challenge of real combat. If he was this quick with drones, she couldn’t wait to see what he would do with the dynamism of live enemies.

“Moving!” came his faint yell. She kept her shotgun up in case any more drones decided to make an appearance, but it wasn’t necessary. Garrus huffed up beside her after half a minute, and she popped to her feet so they could cross the finish line together.

They both smacked their respective buttons, stopping the timer. Three minutes and twenty-three seconds, she noted. Not bad! She was pretty sure no one else had finished on their first attempt either, though she wondered if their aborted run two days ago still counted against them.

She held up a fist at Garrus and grinned. “Hell, yeah, Vakarian!” she crowed. He looked at her hand in confusion. She sighed.

“Make a fist,” she ordered. He slowly did so, his three fingers curling in on themselves. She tapped it lightly with her own. “Fist bump!”

“Human thing?” he asked, his brow plates rising with the question.

“Yeah, human thing.”

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, “I guess I’m getting used to human things. It almost doesn’t seem weird.”

“Stick with me, Vakarian, and everything human will seem normal.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up.”

Chapter Text

Garrus Vakarian had always been a very good turian as a child. His father, the patriarch of their branch of the vaunted Vakarian clan, had insisted on a very regimented structure that guided his life in regimented blocks. Obedient and dutiful in school. Homework completed as soon as you arrived home after school. Study time on personal academic interests. When his father was home from the Citadel, range time. Dinner. More study, though socializing with appropriate friends was sometimes permitted. His mother had taught him compassion and empathy in the spaces between, but his father’s strict guidelines had shaped his entire life until he joined the military.

He thought he had his entire life mapped out from there. After he got used to the weight of it, he’d always preferred the sniper rifle during the weapons training his father gave him. He figured he’d go for Infiltrator, then officer. Once he was an officer, he’d be able to apply straight for the turian Spectre training program. Maybe he’d meet a nice turian girl along the way and fall in love the way his parents had, but he wasn’t really going out of his way to look for it just yet. Plenty of time for that after he’d gained some experience as a Spectre.

Living his life in increments had made him a model soldier at first. His personality and intelligence assessments revealed that he had a sharp mind, if an anxious one. Not being one to settle for the anxious label, he found great comfort in planning for abnormal events or non-traditional tactical attacks. It made him feel more secure about the future and dimmed the anxiety. If he could anticipate the surprises, it made them routine.

That had naturally led to more time thinking about non-traditional military actions and appreciating them a bit more than he could openly express to his instructors during his first year of training. He read extensively on the tactics used during the Krogan Rebellions, a desperate time for the turian military that produced some of its more inventive strategies. Strategies that had unfortunately faded to obscurity. Without major conflicts to promote military innovation, turians relied on the steady doctrine of overwhelming force. Even the brief conflict with the surprisingly adaptive humans during the Relay 314 Incident hadn’t prompted any changes.

A skirmish with batarian slavers when Garrus was sixteen and new to his role as an Infiltrator had made him even more positively disposed to choose novel ideas. He'd been part of an infantry platoon that had been sent out after what was supposed to be a tiny band of batarian slavers operating on the edge of Council space. Two squads of assault rifle infantrymen, one of close-quarters shotguns, and Garrus and one other Infiltrator on overwatch. No artillery support or anything, since it was supposed to be a quick victorious smash.

It turned out that intel dropped the ball and it was a significant slaver base, not a small group at all. The superior numbers of the turian platoon suddenly turned into an even match. His platoon had been nearly overwhelmed during their straight rush assault. Garrus had eschewed traditional turian Infiltrator tactics after his Infiltrator comrade had been killed in the initial fighting. He’d made some very risky decisions to engage the enemy when he was at a clear disadvantage and had managed to save the lives of half his platoon and destroy the base almost singlehandedly.

Captain Kryik – only a lieutenant then – had been his debriefer and had managed to dig most of his actions out of him. Garrus had been quaking inside at what would come next after confessing to his abnormal behavior, but Kryik had just chuckled, squeezed him on the shoulder, and assured him that the report would read quite well. It had ended up excluding most of the non-traditional tactics he’d employed, and Garrus had received a commendation medal for his actions instead of the discharge from service he’d been expecting. Kryik had saved his career.

That incident was all it took to tip him into dangerous territory. He realized that turian tactics were hidebound and inflexible, and that he was better off charting his own path. It also made him realize that the ritualized formality of the part of turian society in which he’d been raised was utter nonsense. His father had done his best to raise him into someone that fell naturally into turian strictures, but he just couldn’t do it after that. Seeing where the military failed by not adapting and knowing that his whole life had been aligned to ensuring he fit into its boundaries fertilized the seed of cynicism and doubt within him that still lingered from his mother’s accident when he was younger.

And then, he’d come to officer candidate training and been assigned a human for a partner.

Garrus almost couldn’t remember what he had expected out of a human when he’d first met her, but it certainly wasn’t what came bundled up in the small package that was his red-fringed partner. Being born and raised in Cipritine would have almost guaranteed he never met any humans before now, but his father’s position in C-Sec on the Citadel meant he and his mother and sister and traveled frequently to the galactic hub to visit. He’d had opportunities there to meet many humans, but he hadn’t been allowed to get to know any of them. His father had several human friends, and one in particular with whom he was close. But the man’s children were several years younger than Garrus was, so he hadn’t really gotten to know them the way he might otherwise have if they were of a similar age.

Spirits, he wasn’t even sure what he’d expected out of officer candidate training. Being an Infiltrator meant he never had to deal with too many people at once, and he loved it. No one to stare at him, judge him, make assumptions about who he was because of where he came from. He knew full well that he had been born into a position and privilege to which most turians couldn’t hope to aspire. What most other turians didn’t realize was how much of a burden of responsibility that put upon him. His father had ensured he understood his obligations to be a good turian well.

He hated it, and he didn’t think he was much of a good turian anymore, especially not now with what he was doing in the privacy of their bunks with Jane.

Though, one happy side effect of their nighttime activities was that Lieutenant Meritus started to avoid looking at them altogether. Garrus was pleased by that because the man had been insufferable up to this point. Garrus wasn’t stupid; he knew Meritus came from a family in a lower social tier in Cipritine and resented the Vakarian clan’s status. He wouldn’t have heard it if Garrus had tried to explain exactly how little he cared about the rigid structure of turian society now. Nineteen-year-old Garrus probably would have slapped fifteen-year-old Garrus in the fringe for his social arrogance.

A byproduct of Meritus’ avoidance was that he and Jane’s steady stream of demerits dried up to almost nothing because they weren’t getting them at morning muster. And they’d started to work together, which also meant they weren’t getting them out in the field. They settled into a comfortable rhythm together, although he steadfastly refused to join her for her nightly gatherings with her small group of friends. He didn’t feel it would be right, since he’d never been formally invited.

Jane got fed up with that after a week of his refusal and seized his hand one night to drag him over.

“Shepard,” he protested, pulling back. She didn’t understand how strict turian social conventions were. He may not care any longer, but he knew everyone else did.

“You’re going to be more friendly if it kills me,” she said sternly. “No more of this hiding in your bunk crap. I’m planning something, but it isn’t going to work if you keep yourself isolated. Besides, you need to learn how to make friends.”

“I know how to make friends,” he said coolly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she snapped. “Now, get your boney spurs over here. I’m not going to do anything else without you. We’re partners for real, remember?”

He tried not to feel too much welcoming acceptance in that as he finally relented and let her pull him over. Six sets of turian eyes swiveled to him as they breached the line of trunks arrayed to form a circle with one of the bottom bunks.

“Everyone, this is Vakarian. He’s decided to join us. Finally.” She grinned up at him. “Vakarian, this is Josinae—” the woman on the bunk gave him a little wave of her fingers “—Kyratus you already know, but that’s his partner, Taris.”

Garrus forced himself to nod politely back to the barefaced turian. His father had always insisted that turians without clan and colony markings held no honor, but Taris was not only serving, he was trying to become an officer. It seemed ridiculous to label him honorless in the face of those facts. Maybe his father had just never met any barefaces in his time in the service?

“You’ve met Pylinax and Vorinus, since we eat with them,” Jane continued. Garrus nodded at them both, but only Pylinax nodded back. Vorinus was too busy glaring at Jane, her subvocals rumbling with a threatening tone.

What the hell is that about? Garrus wondered for a moment. Jane couldn’t even hear the subvocals, much less decode their meaning and respond appropriately! He did it for her, rumbling back a warning that cut Vorinus’ subvocalization into an apologetic near-whine almost immediately. He let her stew in it a moment before modulating his pitch a fraction to let her know he begrudgingly accepted the nonverbal apology.

Vorinus averted her eyes in obvious shame, but the other five turians kept staring at him. Garrus raised his chin in defiance. That was his partner she’d been menacing; Garrus would rip his own spurs off before he let anyone threaten his partner and get away with it.

“And I think you’ve met Justus a few times,” Jane continued, blithely unaware of the subvocal exchange. She’d mentioned it before, so Garrus knew full-well she’d seen when he had pulled Justus aside to work on his submachine pistol grip. Garrus nodded at the biotic turian, whose subvocals shifted to gratitude again for a moment.

Garrus felt embarrassed for the gratitude, but he let his subvocals shift briefly to acceptance. Justus had been using an assault rifle stance for a submachine gun. It hadn’t taken much to correct the other man’s form. The improved aim followed. Anyone could have – and should have – seen and corrected that years ago.

“And that’s your introductions,” Jane finished, dropping down to sit on one of the trunks. Garrus followed perforce, his hand still gripped firmly by Jane’s.

“So, Vakarian,” Kyratus said, his subvocals rumbling with innuendo, “a human, eh? What’s that like?”

Garrus took a deep breath and centered himself before responding. He reminded himself of what Jane had said about Kyratus: he was just trying to get a rise out of him, he didn’t mean most of the things he said, and he was probably masking insecurities. Right.

“Honestly?” he asked. Kyratus nodded and leaned in a bit, his subvocals betraying his genuine curiosity. “Amazing.”

Garrus pulled his hand out of Jane’s so he could wrap his arm around her and pull her close. This “snuggling” thing had become one of his favorite things to do. It had been weird that first night when she’d demanded he join her in bed, but the result was so delightful that he’d eagerly done it every night since. Turian children were born nearly plateless and had to rely on curling up in their parents’ cowls for protection from radiation while their plates grew in over time. Cuddling up against her soft skin triggered odd associations with that comfort in his mind, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked it.

“Try this with another turian and see how long you last with your plates grinding against each other,” Garrus said, nuzzling his face into Jane’s hair. Her body shook with her laughter as he squeezed her against him. Discovering what “being ticklish” was for humans had been an absolute delight, although the “snoring” had been terrifying the first time he’d heard it; he’d thought she was dying.

“Can I try?” Kyratus asked eagerly.

“No. Get your own human,” Garrus dismissed, his subvocals echoing his firmness.

“Come on, Shepard,” Kyratus whined. “You’ve got to try more turians out that just this fusty young pup. I’m sure all his family taught him was how to preserve their vaunted reputation.”

Garrus tensed at the insult, but Jane’s arm sliding around his waist – in public! some corner of his brain screamed in shock – cut off his train of thought before it even managed to leave the station. “I’ll stick with this one, thanks,” Jane said, her voice practically purring against his shoulder. “He’s an excellent representative of your whole species, not just his family. I find him quite…pleasing.”

Garrus felt the heat of embarrassment at her flirtatious compliment spread across the skin of his neck. Still, Kyratus wasn’t entirely wrong. His father’s stern voice reached out from the depths of his memory unwilled. You only have a good reputation once. Once it’s lost, it’s lost forever. Everything we do, we do for the honor of our clan, Cipritine, and turians everywhere. Never forget that you represent more than just yourself with your actions.

It had been part of a speech his father had given him the night before he shipped to basic that Garrus had taken very seriously. His friends’ families were toasting them with wine and holding fancy dinners to celebrate their ship date, but Garrus had been subjected to an hour-long lecture on the importance of reputation, decorum, and bringing honor to the Vakarian clan. His father had taught Garrus a lot more over the years than just upholding the family honor, but it had been what he thought most important to reiterate to Garrus on the eve of the biggest day of his life.

At the time, he hadn’t questioned much that his father said. But now, looking down at Jane’s upturned, grinning face, he wasn’t so sure of some of it anymore. His mother had given him a glass of wine and his favorite dessert after his father had retreated to his office for the night. She’d given no lecture, just told him she was proud of the man he was becoming and to not forget who he was.

Don’t let the military change who you are at heart, Garrus. You’re a good boy growing into a good man, and I’m proud of you. Your father is, too, even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.

What had his mother seen in him that she called good? What was she worried that the military would change about him? He felt a sudden yearning to see her so he could ask what she saw in him that his father didn’t. He suspected that she was a mirror that reflected him better than he was. A scant week on her good side and he could already tell that Jane was the same way.

Well, forget his father’s ideas about his precious reputation. No one here seemed to care in the slightest that he and Jane were sleeping together. While Kyratus may not have been the best gauge of popular opinion, he was actively envious of Garrus, which no one else seemed to find odd. That spoke volumes about the acceptability of what they were doing.

Jane seemed to get along with everyone by meeting them at their level. Maybe he should try that with Kyratus. He slid his mandibles slowly outward in a sly grin and met the other turian’s eyes. “Jealous, Kyratus? I know it’s got to sting a bit to get turned down and then see her with a guy like me.”

Kyratus’ mandibles dropped, his subvocals echoing his shock for a moment before he recovered himself and started laughing. “Look at that! The pup can bite back! I meant it when I said I’d join you both, by the way. Whatever you’re doing to make her scream like that has got to be worth a try.”

“I don’t scream,” Jane protested, her head snapping sideways to glare at Kyratus.

Josinae cleared her throat lightly. “Uh, you do a little bit, Shepard.”

“I cry out,” Jane corrected, her voice as prim as an old turian high society matriarch. Garrus knew the type well; his paternal grandmother had a whole ancient gang of them. They used to turn up on family visits and criticize his manners, even when he barely made a peep.

“…loudly,” Jane finished, ducking her head.

Garrus surprised himself by joining in on the laughter that echoed around the circle. Jane smiled up at him again, and he felt a warmth inside of his chest at her expression.

Okay, maybe he had needed some help at making friends after all.

----<>----

After their evening spent in surprisingly congenial conversation, Garrus realized how tired he really was as he trudged in Jane’s wake back to their bunk. His legs still ached from yet another double run that Meritus had sent them on yesterday – although at least this time he’d told them beforehand it would be two rounds of the course – and their practice at building entrenched fighting positions all day had not helped. Garrus knew full well that his and Jane’s had been damn near flawless on their first attempt, but the cadre had made them knock down the outer structure, fill in the trench, and rebuild the whole thing three times.

“Hey, stop following me,” Jane said. He stopped short, since she had, and blinked at her in confusion.

“What?” he asked.

“Stop following me,” she repeated, crossing her arms. “You aren’t my subordinate. You’re my partner.”

He hadn’t even realized he was trailing behind her like she was his superior officer. Apparently, her magnetic powers of automatic leadership had started to work on him, and he hadn’t even noticed. It seemed right that he follow her; she naturally took charge both on the battlefield and in bed. He realized that he had ceded both authorities without conscious thought.

“Uh, where do you want me to walk?” he asked uncertainly. She had an absolute hold over him that he wasn’t quite prepared to examine in the bright light of day, or even the muted light of a bunk room winding down for bedtime.

“Next to me?” she said, her voice lifting up in a question to give him the option to say no. “Or, if that’s not okay, maybe right behind my shoulder?”

“Which shoulder?” he asked.

“My left,” she said, accepting his response immediately.  “Close enough so that I don’t have to turn all the way around to look at you.”

If he still had the feathers that turians had lost hundreds of thousands of years ago to evolution, they would have been thoroughly ruffled. He quelled his unthinking resistance to the idea. “I can do that.”

She nodded firmly at him, his resolve rising at the affirming gesture. “Good compromise between human and turian traditions.”

He fell in at her left shoulder as they finished their walk to their set of bunks. It felt weird to walk so close to her, but he shoved the disoriented feeling down. Even though they were partners, he was recognizing that he had inadvertently been correct on that first day that he’d sneered and told her they weren’t peers. He just wasn’t right in the way he’d thought: he was the one that wasn’t up to her level. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite name, some natural trait of leadership that he just didn’t possess. She wore her confidence like a cloak around her.

Garrus wasn’t sure if he should describe how he felt as jealousy. He’d never really had an opportunity to experience it before. His parents had ensured he never wanted for anything. His skill with weapons and his graduation status at the top of his class in every school he had ever attended had come as the result of hard work. He glanced down at Jane and reconsidered that; maybe both things had just come more easily to him than his peers, so he’d only thought it was his hard work.

They stopped in front of their respective lockers, and he started to strip out of his uniform to trade it for his sleep clothes. Not that they’d stay on for very long. Jane loved exploring his naked hide and plates, as if she was trying to survey and memorize every inch of him. Her fascination with him was incredibly flattering, and he returned it with interest.

He was relieved that she displayed no inclination towards any of the rest of their cohort. It was her prerogative, of course, to be intimate with whoever she wanted, but the thought of her with someone else made him strangely uncomfortable. That first night she’d hung out with her little group had been damn near torture, especially when she’d grabbed Justus’ hand. The violet light that she’d coaxed around their fingers had reassured him it was just a biotics thing, and Justus’ longing for Kyratus had remained patently obvious. He’d still closed his privacy curtain so that he didn’t have to watch any more of her interactions. He hadn’t even liked her then, and it had still been uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Jane said softly, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to her expectantly. “I hate to say it, but I need a break from the chaffing for tonight. My lotion works really well, but I think I need to give my skin a night away from your plates.”

“Oh,” he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Yeah, I can understand that.”

She reached out to slide her fingers through his, her thumb and first finger threading into the spaces between his fingers while her other three wrapped around the side of his hand. She used her grip to tug him closer, then rocked up to plant a gentle kiss on his mouth plates. They were some of the most flexible plates he had – which wasn’t saying much – and he’d figured out how to flare them outward a bit to mimic what she did with her mouth.

A poor imitation, he mused as the pleasant suction of her kiss broke away. She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand.

“I’ve got letters to catch up on, anyway,” he said. “I’ve found myself very, ah, occupied lately. Had no idea I’d be this busy during this course. Didn’t know my partner would require so much attention.”

She laughed up at him. “Same. I had no idea turians were so needy.”

“Who you calling ‘needy?’” he growled in mock anger. “I distinctly recall someone crying out ‘more, Garrus, more’ last night while she rode my mouth.”

He’d laid down on his back and pulled her on top of his face for the first time last night. He had judged it a more space-efficient position to try – his back ached after a while if he crouched between her legs in the slightly cramped space of the bunk – but the different angle had produced some interesting results. He definitely wanted to experiment with it more in the future, and he’d been hoping to start tonight.

“What can I say?” Jane asked, playfully stroking one of his mandibles with the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his. “My partner tends to turn me into a gibbering, needy mess.”

“And he enjoys every second of it,” Garrus promised.

“Good night, Garrus,” she said, letting her fingers trail away from his face and fingers.

“Good night, Jane,” he replied before pulling himself up into his bunk.

He dug into his letters immediately. His father’s brief missive to perform well was his first read just to get it out of the way. His father was very taciturn in person, and his written addresses were no different. Garrus was much happier to read the single letter from his little sister, Solana, who was actually at basic training only twenty kilometers away at the other side of his own base. She reported that her prospects for selection for medic training were good, so he quickly typed out a message expressing his pride in her and his hope that her dream would become reality. His finger hovered over the send button for a moment, but he experienced a sudden disorienting flash of illumination.

He flipped back to his message from his father. Spirits, his own message to his sister was hardly more than what his father would have written. Did he really want to be like that? He’d been more thoughtful with his return barbs to Kyratus than he had been with his own sister, and he loved her! He erased his short message and started typing.

Solana;

I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you. If I could, I’d sneak out and run the twenty kilometers to your basic training barracks to tell you in person, but we both know I’d never make it back here before morning muster.

I know how long and hard you’ve worked for this. I know mom’s illness is a big factor for why you want to be a doctor one day, and I admire you so damn much for it, Sol. I wish the timing of your graduation was better; if it wasn’t while I was in Reception, I could actually be excused for a few hours to attend. But I’ll be with you in spirit, and you’d better believe I’ll be there for your medic training graduation!

Reception is going well. That human partner I told you about? She’s actually a lot better than I thought. We’re getting along really well, now. She’s plotting something for the Forge, and I can’t wait to see what it is.

Anyway, proud of you, kid.

Garrus

He reread it and, much more satisfied with it now, sent it off. He was reading his third letter from his mother when a light tap sounded on his privacy curtain. He slid it open to find Jane on the other side, shuffling from side to side with her eyes cast downward.

“I just…I’m not falling asleep as easily as I usually do,” she said, her gaze still fixed on the ground. “I’m exhausted, but I…need you and your magical subvocals. Can I come up?”

“C’mere,” he said without hesitation, shutting off his omnitool and reaching out one hand to help hoist her up. He lifted her easily into his bunk, despite the angle. He closed his privacy shutter again once she was all the way in.

She rolled in and inhaled deeply. “Oh, it smells like you in here.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked. She’d seemed to like how he smelled before. Turians were very keen on the smell of their partner – sexual or otherwise – and he found it appealing that she liked his scent so much.

“No,” she said, shaking her head and burying herself into his side. “I like it. It’s just very…potent in here.”

He didn’t say anything as he rolled onto his own side to tuck her up against his front. Her face found its usual place in his neck, but she slid one of her legs up over his body to hook her knee over his hip spur. His thigh seemed to move on his own, sliding between her legs. She let loose a contented sigh, the breeze of it cooling his neck.

Neither of them said anything else, and he soon found himself drifting off into sleep.

Chapter Text

One morning after breakfast, they returned to the barracks to find tightly rolled sleeping bags on their bunks along with a neatly folded square of fabric. A compact metal rod, several small stakes, and a coil of some sort of strong cord lay in a pile next to them. Shepard picked up her sleeping bag and turned it over in her hands.

“This can’t be good,” Garrus muttered beside her as he plucked his own off his bunk.

“I see field time in our future,” Shepard said grimly. “Possibly our immediate future.”

Lieutenant Meritus strode through the door, stopping just across the threshold to cross his arms and glare around the room. “You have five minutes to pack for three days and two nights,” he warned, then turned and left without another word. Shepard and Garrus shared a glance, then a nod. They got to packing without saying anything. She passed him a few of her extra dextro ration bars, though he had plenty of his own now. She grinned at him, amused by her unspoken influence over his actions.

It didn’t take very long to cram everything into the rucksacks they still had from the ruck march a few weeks ago. That had been the first time they’d sort of worked together. It was incredible how much things had changed since then. She almost didn’t recognize Garrus as the same turian that had been so abominably rude to her at first.

On the whole, she greatly preferred this attentive and pleasant version of him. Not only did they work extremely well together in combat training, their time together after lights out was like something out of her most private fantasies. He seemed to take extra delight in coaxing loud noises out of her. She thought he was perfect with his tongue that first night, but he’d gotten even better with practice.

She knew turian social customs probably had something to do with why he had become so insistently caring. It had been disorienting at first, but she’d convinced herself to relax and just roll with it. The rewards had certainly been worth it. The rapidity with which he took to cuddling had been downright sweet, and it was a new experience for her, too. Being wrapped up in his arms with the gentle thrum of his subvocals lulling her to sleep gave her such a calming sensation of safety. The only other place she felt that secure was when the Alliance put a gun in her hands, but how she felt with Garrus was different. She didn’t have the words to describe it.

The man himself interrupted her musing thoughts. “Need me to carry anything for you? That pack of yours seems so small.”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, favoring his thoughtfulness with a smile.

Not only was her pack sized for a human, but it was actually sourced from Earth. She found the discrete manufacturer’s label while cleaning out her ration bar trash after the ruck and recognized it as a very exclusive civilian brand. She knew it would last for decades under the harshest conditions and that its size was deceptive; the compression technology in this thing hadn’t even made it into Alliance military gear yet. Some junior enlisted turian supply clerk had probably dropped tens of thousands of credits on the first human pack to pop up on an extranet search that was compatible with turian water bladders.

Whoever it was, she mentally blessed them as she tightened in the sides down to secure a dense load that could ride high on her shoulders. She wondered if they’d let her take it back to the Academy with her. She would be allowed to use it if it passed a supply inspection.

“It’s not a problem,” he reassured her. She reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

“Ask me again before the Forge,” she said. “I might say yes then.”

The cadre came into the room to hurry them down to the armory to draw their weapons before rushing them out to the waiting shuttle. Off they went again.

----<>----

Their shuttle dumped them off in an area clear of scrub brush and boulders, but it made her feel uneasy. It was the only open area around and seemed vulnerable to ambush. Anyone could be practically on top of them before they realized it, and they had their weapons in hand, but no heat sinks to make them operable.

As with the ruck march before, a single cadre member accompanied them off the shuttle. It was the instructor that had praised them for their ruck completion because it won him money in a betting pool. She wondered if there were any wagers being tossed around this time. She also wondered if they were ever going to learn any of the cadre’s names, though she supposed that if they hadn’t learned them by six weeks in, it was unlikely that they ever would.

“Set up camp. More instructions will follow,” he announced. A couple of junior enlisted turians heaved a large pallet off the shuttle and left it on the ground. The instructor followed them back into the shuttle and it took off, once again leaving nothing but officer candidates behind.

Shepard glanced over to meet Garrus’ eyes, and she shrugged. It wasn’t like she had any idea how turians set up camp. His mandibles dipped in a frown as he awkwardly scrunched his shoulders up in imitation. She suppressed her laugh; she’d never seen a turian try to shrug before. It was kind of cute on him.

The silence was pressing on her as all the candidates just looked around at each other. No one had been specifically put in charge of the group, and they seemed almost paralyzed by it.

“Garrus,” she whispered, “who should take charge?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, his eyes on the group. “We always know who’s in command. And I…don’t.”

Shepard looked around curiously. This was an interesting conundrum. She noticed Josinae and Justus edging in their direction with Kyratus and Taris doing the same just beyond them. Vel was already standing only a couple meters away. She seemed to be studying Shepard. If anyone should take charge, it was Vel. This wasn’t her first time here; she had to know better than anyone what to expect and how to go on. Except she just stood there in silence, watching.

“Vel?” Shepard called hesitantly. The turian woman just nodded at her.

Well, Shepard huffed silently to herself, they could either stand here until three days had passed, or she could do something herself. “Turians,” she mumbled in frustration.

“Vel, how are turian camps normally organized?” she asked.

“Tents in a solid square, guard stations on the outside corners,” Vel supplied quickly. Shepard glanced at the menacing boulders that covered the landscape. They were at the bottom of a dip in terrain so large that it almost qualified as a valley.

“That would be suicide here,” Shepard said, nodding to their surroundings. “If anything attacked, we’d be overrun before we could get out of our tents.”

“Mmm,” Vel said noncommittally.

Shepard wanted to throw up her hands in frustration, but she made her choice instead. If none of these turians would take charge, she would.

“Right,” she said. “Vel, take your partner and mark off a circle about fifty meters in radius with the center point at the middle of this clearing. Hash it at even intervals for tent placement for all sets of partners minus one. We’ll set up with the openings facing out for quick defense if we get attacked.”

Vel’s mandible flared briefly in a smile before she nodded and said, “Yes, Shepard.”

She gestured to her partner – a quiet woman Shepard had yet to meet – to help her but Shepard was already turning to her other friends. “Josinae, Justus. Grab a couple other pairs and start unpacking that pallet. Set everything up in the middle of the circle that Vel marks off. That’ll be our supply point. And get a mess area set up. Justus, you’re lead on mess detail. You and Josinae set up your tent in by your supply point and not on the ring.”

Justus immediately looked at Kyratus, but Shepard intercepted that immediately. She couldn’t indulge Justus’ crush right now; she needed people she could trust to lead the others. “Kyratus, Taris. Grab everyone else except Pylinax, Vorinus, Feris, and his partner. Start clearing out and marking firing lanes beyond the boundary that Vel is laying down. Once you’ve got it clear to twenty meters all around, split your group in half. One group keeps clearing father out, the other group starts moving boulders to the outer boundary of camp to give us some cover.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Kyratus said cheerfully. Taris immediately began conferring with Josinae to divvy up the cohort. Pylinax and Vorinus had already separated themselves from the group and were closing the distance to her.

“I need you two to scout out at least a kilometer in all directions,” Shepard said. “We need to know what we’re dealing with, especially if we need to scatter. Find us a good fallback point that we can defend if we need to. I would prefer two options, since we don’t know which direction an attack might come from, but if you can only find one good one, we can work with that.”

“Yes, Shepard,” Pylinax said obediently. Even Vorinus nodded in acknowledgement. Good. She’d been exceptionally hostile at first but had seemed to chill out in the last couple weeks. Shepard didn’t know what had caused the change, but she’d take it.

“Report back every hour with your next heading so we know you aren’t lost or, if the cadre are going to play as a red team, captured. I’ll send someone out to find you if you fail to report in.”

Pylinax consulted his omnitool, then pointed towards the west. “We’ll head that way first, then sweep south and come back in from the southwest.”

“Excellent. See you in an hour,” Shepard said. She could trust them both to handle themselves.

Taris caught her attention. “May we split our group in half now to tackle different points of the scrub brush?”

“Taris,” she replied, “I don’t care how you do it; I just care that you do it. You’re free to choose the way to execute, okay?”

She turned to find Feris, the short turian that Garrus had helped on the ruck march, standing behind her with his partner. They both had brown plates, but Feris had bright purple colony markings on his face that almost managed to draw her attention away from his diminutive stature. Feris’ female partner had much more sedate blue markings.

“Feris,” she said with a grin. “I hear you’re an engineer?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding cautious.

“I need you to build me the most important part of this camp,” she said.

“The latrine?” he asked dryly. Oh, good, Garrus hadn’t been overestimating his capabilities! She could work well with that kind of ability to anticipate.

“The latrine,” she confirmed with a nod. “Being at the bottom of this dip isn’t good, and I need an expert to keep us from swimming in our own shit before tomorrow night.”

Feris heaved the long-suffering sigh of a military engineer, then gave her a respectful acknowledging nod.

“Once that’s done, we’ll see what supplies we got in the pallet. I want you to look over all of it. If there’s anything that has even a remote chance of being used as a weapon or trap, I want you working with it to set up defenses.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice shifting into excitement. “That I can most definitely do, ma’am.”

Turians and their violence, she snorted to herself.

Feris studied the area around the camp in a slow spin. He stopped and considered several points before finally stabbing his finger in an eastern direction. “There, Elanis. Let’s go.”

His partner moved beside him as he stalked off, nodding at Shepard once before she left.

That left one person that she hadn’t ordered to a task. She turned to find Garrus staring at her. She knew his face well enough by now to read the awe on it.

“What?” she asked.

“How do you…how do you do that?” he asked. “You just take charge like it was given to you.”

“The Alliance calls it ‘disciplined initiative,’” she said, smiling at him. “Also, ‘taking appropriate action in the absence of orders.’ No one was given command, and no one seemed to want to take it. So, I did.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “you did.”

The way he was looking at her was almost uncomfortable, like he’d seen the face of one of his spirits or something. She didn’t think she’d like it very much if their burgeoning friendship and closeness got diverted into something like hero worship. He’d confessed to jealousy on their first night together, but they’d melded into an effective team since then, so she thought they were past that.

“Garrus, anyone can do it,” she said quickly. “It just takes coaching and practice.”

“And instinct. You can’t tell me this doesn’t come naturally to you.”

“No, it didn’t. Not at first. You just have to have the self-confidence for it,” she said, shaking her head. “Took me a while, but the Marines put the necessary backbone in me.”

“Can you teach me?” he asked, suddenly as shy as Justus.

“Stick with me, Vakarian, and you’ll be facing court martial for seizing command from incompetent leaders in no time,” she reassured. He chuckled at that.

“I look forward to the crushing disappointment on my father’s face,” he said. “In the meantime, what do you need me to do?”

She looked around at the area that was now bustling with activity. Josinae, Justus, and four other turians were breaking the seals on the pallet. Kyratus had a group on one side of the camp and Taris a group on the other that were both already tearing into the local flora. Pylinax and Vorinus had already disappeared over a ridge to the west, but she could see Feris making shapes with his hands over a patch of ground to the east as he explained something to his partner.

Vel’s partner stood at the middle of the clearing with her omnitool active and aimed at Vel, who was dragging a metal pole – the same that had been left on their bunks, just extended all the way out. And Shepard could recognize a tent pole when she saw it – along the ground with her omnitool pointed back at her partner. Shepard assumed they were pinging a range off each other’s omnitools for the circle she’d ordered.

“If I’m in command, I need a second who will tell me when I’m fucking up,” she said quietly to Garrus. “You’re my executive officer, and I need my XO give me his honest opinion at all times, got it?”

“At all times?” he balked.

“Well, not in front of others. Unless what I’m ordering will get someone hurt or killed, express it in private. I’ll listen, and I’ll change my mind if you make a good case.”

He seemed strangely anxious at the idea. His mandibles fluttered as he shifted on his feet and stared at the ground.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

 “That’s not really…encouraged for turians, Shepard,” he said. He sort of shivered in his armor for a second before he nodded once and finally met her eyes. “Neither is taking initiative, but I’ve done that a couple times. So yes, I can do that. I’ve always got your back, Shepard.”

“No, I need you by my side. Because knowing how to be a good XO is the first step in taking charge for yourself. And having a good XO makes command an easy job. Do turians have XOs?” she asked. If she needed to teach him how to do that, she needed to know right now.

“We have XOs, but I don’t know how similar it is to humans. No matter what, though, I’m right beside you,” he promised. He glanced towards Feris and his partner, his mandibles flaring briefly in a grin. “Being an XO is a lot of the, uh, crap detail and admin work for us.”

Shepard let herself laugh. “Yeah, same for us. Fortunately, not a lot of that will be necessary for a three-day field exercise.”

Garrus nodded again and turned back to her. “Not like you have a staff I need to run herd on out here. I’ll put together a roster of everyone and their specialties. We’ll need a guard rotation set up, so I’ll take care of that and lay out where everyone goes on the tent line so that it’s balanced. Wouldn’t want a sector covered by only shotguns or something. I’ll schedule the mess detail so it doesn’t conflict with guard schedule. And also…”

He trailed off uncertainly.

“Spit it out, Vakarian,” she ordered. “I need your honest opinion, remember?”

He took a breath before he answered. “And also, I think we need another pair on scouting duty. I judge the time trade-off to be worth it if we pull two from the firing lane clearing crews.”

Shepard smiled and nodded in encouragement. “Excellent suggestion. Get your roster together and give me a recommendation for a partner pair. We can sync them up with Pylinax and Vorinus when they get back from their first sweep.”

Garrus seemed to stand taller at her words. As he already towered over her, she felt much shorter than she was. Any two of these turians probably could have easily overpowered her if they tried, but they all fell straight into taking orders from her like it was natural. She wondered if she’d ever really understand them.

“Some of these boulders are pretty squared off, Shepard,” he said. “Once everything else is done, we should probably see if Feris can set up some elevated guard towers. Without machinery, they couldn’t be very tall, but a little elevation on four corners would be good.”

She looked around again at the hills that rolled up around them. “Very good idea. That’s your project to accomplish once you’ve got your other tasks done. Tap expertise and muscle as needed, even if they’re still working on their own details.”

“Can do, Shepard,” he said.

He very nearly saluted her, but he caught himself for a simple nod before moving off to Josinae’s group that was ferrying boxes and packs from the pallet to the center of the camp, already stabbing furiously at his omnitool. Shepard would have had them haul the pallet to the middle first to start sorting through everything, but she let Josinae and Justus run the detail how they decided was best.

Everyone was busy with their tasks when Shepard realized she hadn’t left herself with anything to do. Normally, this would be a good thing, since there were plenty of things for a commander to do. But this wasn’t a real command, and she’d left herself with nothing but free time. She didn’t need to worry about long term lines of effort, programs, or even command climate. And she didn’t even need to maintain contact with a higher headquarters to receive and interpret orders; they’d been left with no communication devices.

She thought back to some of her previous commanders; what had they done in times like this? She had some dim memories of seeing her commanders visit when she’d been on work details. Maybe she should try that. “But don’t hover,” she cautioned herself quietly. She didn’t need the people she’d put in charge of each detail to think she was micromanaging. She mentally prepared herself to walk the line between demonstrating caring and being too involved and steered her feet towards Taris’ group first.

----<>----

Four hours later, their little valley was almost unrecognizable from when they’d landed. Kyratus and Taris had their teams take a break after two hours once the twenty-meter clearing was done. Garrus had given everyone their tent location assignments then, and the turians hadn’t even taken much of a rest; they just drank some water, set up their tents, and got back to work. She may not understand them, but damned if she didn’t appreciate their devotion to duty and hard work. It made them easy to lead.

Garrus had pointed out almost immediately that Vel and her partner – her name was Hyllus, Shepard finally found out from his roster – were free from surveying duties and would make excellent scouts, thus sparing the clearing detail from any losses. She linked up Pylinax and Vel when the former returned from his first scouting foray, and the two quickly settled into splitting up the rest of the sectors. Vorinus had even found a very defensible fallback point on their first sweep, and she sent their map information to Shepard’s omnitool without prompting.

Josinae and Justus had the pallet supplies organized into logical order. They’d discovered several sets of shovels and what Shepard assumed were sapping kits, since they sent Feris into a small paroxysm of joy. There were now several concealed trenches around the camp with the locations for many more marked out – she’d authorized the diversion of Taris’ team to help Feris – and Garrus had stationed a rotation of guards at them where they expected their two scout teams to return. It wouldn’t do them any good to accidentally injure their own scouts, and the rotation cycled sets of partners through half-hour breaks from the hard labor of digging trenches and hauling large rocks. She was pleased with Garrus’ eye for efficiency.

There was also a small crate of heat sinks. Shepard had ordered everyone to load up, but to not fully seat the sinks for engagement unless necessary. It made her think that they didn’t need to fear an attack by a red team; unless the sinks or their guns had been sabotaged, she didn’t think Captain Kryik would sign off on that level of risk to his cadre masquerading as an enemy force.

Just to be safe, she had Garrus go off half a kilometer and test his sniper rifle. The successful distant report from his rifle was all she needed to confirm that their weapons worked. It gave him a plausible excuse to double check the fallback point that Vorinus had identified. He returned with a more detailed scan of the other clearing, having shoved a few small boulders around by himself to create better cover in the direction of their camp in case they had to regroup and defend from that angle. They were both satisfied with the results.

No one had shown up with “more instructions” by lunch time, so Shepard had Justus break out the first round of rations. Everyone dug in with enthusiasm, their workload seasoning the bland rations with their hunger.

She glanced up at the sky, wondering if Kryik was watching them right now. She had to assume that aerial drones were once again observing everything the candidates were doing. He’d told Garrus as much about the ruck march, and that was a minor event compared to this. She was curious what he’d think of all this. It wasn’t exactly shaping up to be a traditional turian camp, but Garrus’s words and her own interactions with the man had led her to believe Kyrik didn’t have much appreciation for “tradition.”

The scoreboard on their omnitools was blank; Shepard hadn’t thought to check it when they were out on the ruck before, but she guessed it was because they were away from base and whatever broadcast system sent it to them. She hoped they would get a good score for taking charge and organizing everything and didn’t lose any points because it didn’t adhere strictly to turian doctrine.

“Shepard?” Garrus’ voice came from behind her. She turned to find out he was holding out a levo ration pack to her. “You need to eat, just like the rest of us.”

She smiled and took it, banishing her worry over their points. “Thanks for the reminder, Garrus. A good XO usually has to remind their commander to eat.”

His mandibles flared out in a grin, and they settled down next to eat other to eat their meal in companionable silence.

Chapter Text

By dinner, the entire camp was firmly established. Garrus had his raised guard towers, Feris was practically exultant about the pits that lined the entire perimeter in two rings, and the four scouts had completed an exhaustive survey of the area ranging out two kilometers instead of the one she’d asked for. Compressed pillows and sleep mats had been buried deep in the pallet, and Justus had set them all out to fluff up over the afternoon, so everyone had the added bonus of looking forward to a relatively comfortable night’s sleep.

She and Garrus took the chance to set up their tent before going to grab dinner. They were the only ones that hadn’t yet done so. Garrus went off to find a shovel before they got started. He laid out his sleeping bag, then started digging out the rocky dirt along it to create a shallow depression. She reviewed the guard schedule while he did so, not really sure what he was doing but confident enough in him to know it was probably for a reason.

One of the sets of partners had volunteered for permanent mess detail with Justus and Josinae, which Garrus had said made his schedule easy. He’d set out a rotation of four on guard for two shifts of four hours and four shifts of five hours, dividing the day among the 24 remaining cohort members. The midnight and 0400 shifts were the four hours, while the shifts that started at 0800, 1300, 1800, and 2300 were all five hours. Each set of four on duty rotated backwards to the earlier shift on the next day, so four or five hours of guard duty netted 19 or 20 hours of off-time before the next shift. While the time shift wasn’t ideal, this was probably the lightest duty they’d see for all of Reception.

She noted that Garrus had assigned them the 0000 – 0400 shift that day, which meant they hadn’t actually had to pull it since they weren’t even in the field yet. They’d wouldn’t be on until the 2300 – 0000 shift tomorrow. Normally, she’d have made him change it to give them duty on the first day, but it gave her plenty of time to solidify everything the camp needed to run correctly. Besides, they hadn’t actually started any shifts until the 1800 one, and Garrus had made the eight turians he’d assigned to the 2300 and 0000 shifts stop working and take a nap a few hours ago.

He was proving to be an excellent XO. She’d had a couple examples of great company execs in her enlisted time, and he took to it like a duck to water. He was meticulously organized and had a natural eye for efficiency, for which she was exceedingly grateful. Not to mention how damn smart he was. He and Feris had some highly technical conversation on their guard tower project that was so full of math that she had to double-check her translator to make sure it was working because she hadn’t understood more than one in four words.

She sat down next to where he was digging a trench large enough to fit both of their sleeping bags. “Why didn’t you go for Engineer, Garrus?”

“Hmm?” he asked, stopping to look over at her.

“You can keep up with Feris in an engineering conversation so technical that I was lost after twenty seconds. Why did you go for Infiltrator instead?”

He looked at her for a moment before returning to his digging, answering between swings of the shovel. “My mother was an Infiltrator. And the sniper rifle was always my favorite growing up. Plus, it seemed like a better option for my chances at Spectre.”

“Would you rather have been an Engineer? You seem like you’d be great at it.”

He shook his head and stopped digging, tossing the shovel to the side. “Pass me the sleeping mats, would you?”

She stood up to grab the two they’d been given and helped him lay them down in his trench. Ah, that made sense. They’d be almost flush with the ground now while sleeping with just a slight lip of dirt around them. No chance of rolling off the mats in the middle of the night.

Garrus nodded in satisfaction before finally answering her. “I was supposed to do an engineering internship before I joined the military at fifteen. If I’d done well, I would have been exempted from subsequent military service after basic training to go straight into schooling for civil engineering for the Hierarchy. But I…ended up not going.”

“Why not?” she asked, curious about it. He seemed reluctant to talk about it.

“Family stuff. Changed my mind on going. Decided being a Spectre one day sounded better.”

Well, that was clearly a minefield of things he didn’t want to discuss. She left it alone, though.

“Being a Spectre does sound pretty badass,” she said. “Now, how does this tent work?”

The tent poles went into the hard ground at the top and bottom of Garrus’ trough with significant effort, and he showed her how their cords threaded through each of their fabric pieces to create a continuous piece that could string between the poles in an inverted v shape. He had to help her pound her side of stakes into the ground, but she tied the cords taut enough on her own to earn another of his satisfied nods.

The result wasn’t the most waterproof or private of structures. She wasn’t even sure it was long enough for some of their taller turian cohort members to fit under it completely. While Garrus was a little short and would probably fit, Taris topped him by nearly a head, and she was sure the dark turian’s feet would stick out of the cover. Oh well, this was only supposed to be three days; they could all deal with it. At least they had the sleeping mats and compression pillows to make it comfortable.

Speaking of Taris, she spied him talking to Vel on one of the stone benches that Justus and Josinae had set up as she and Garrus made their way over to secure their rations for dinner. It was the most animated she’d seen the turian, and Vel seemed more than politely interested. Hyllus was on her other side watching them both with what looked like amusement.

Shepard smacked Garrus’ arm as she stopped. He stopped too and looked down at her in confusion. Gods, he really needed to not be so damn adorable when he looked at her like that. It was incredibly distracting.

“Garrus,” she hissed. “Can you hear Taris and Vel?”

“What?” His confusion intensified as he looked at her. She nodded her head in the pair’s direction, and he turned his head to look.

“Don’t stare!” she admonished.

“I’m not!” he protested. “Some of us can actually observe discreetly, you know.”

Justus appeared beside them, startling her and she cut off her next words with a choking sound. He appeared not to notice and just nodded away from the larger group, so she followed him, Garrus trailing a step behind off her left shoulder.

“There are exactly enough rations to last for three days,” Justus said without preamble. “Eight prepackaged dextro meals per person. It makes me a little nervous.”

Shepard could understand that; it made her a little nervous, too. Just because Meritus had said to pack for three days didn’t mean this field exercise would last for that length of time.

“Because there’s one more thing,” Justus said anxiously. “There are enough levo rations for you for five days. Fourteen levo meals.”

“Shit,” Shepard hissed.

It could be nothing, she told herself. It could be that the turian logistics officer that loaded the pallet had no idea what she’d actually need, so he or she overestimated.

Or it could be that they’d be out here for five days and the turians didn’t want to risk an incident with their first human exchange student starving for two days with the entire cohort. Or – even more depressingly likely – Meritus wanted her to have food while everyone else starved to incite resentment.

“Shit,” Garrus echoed. She glanced up at him, his features sharp even in the fading light.

“Ration out the food supply for five days?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he agreed immediately. “We’re done with the hard labor. We can survive on one or two meals a day from here on out. I’ve got plenty of ration bars, and I know a couple of the others do, too.”

“I’ve already had three people turn over their private stash of ration bars to me,” Justus said quietly. “With the ones Josinae and I already had, we’ve got enough for substitutions for two meals.”

“Well done, Justus,” Garrus said, surprise in his voice. “I’ll give you mine. That’s an extra ten.”

“And I’ve got five dextro bars, I think,” Shepard said. That was a blatant lie; she had eight, but she’d keep three in reserve for Garrus. She didn’t doubt that he had exactly ten, and he’d give all of his away without a second thought.

She glanced over at the officer candidates that were congregated in the mess area. Kyratus had set up a blazing bonfire with some of the scraps from the day’s labors and was currently enthralling half the cohort with some story. The other half was enthusiastically digging into prepackaged meals on the stone benches. Taris and Vel had stopped talking because they both were watching her conversation with Justus. Dammit.

“Let me see if I can coax some more out of everyone else,” she said decisively. Rationing food like this was something that needed buy-in from the entire group. She knew they’d do it if she ordered them to, but it would be better for everyone if they understood why they were sacrificing. However, this was going to require a speech, and she hated giving speeches.

“Who gave you ration bars?” she demanded. “I won’t call them out by name, but I need to know.”

Justus clenched his hands together. It was clear that his overwhelming need to obey orders was warring with a personal imperative to protect his sources. Fortunately for her, the natural turian inclination for obeying orders won out.

“Taris,” he gasped. “And Hyllus. And her partner, Galen. They all said it seemed prudent. Or for the greater good. They didn’t want me to tell anyone.”

“Got it, thanks,” she said, nodding and striding towards the massed group.

“Listen up, people!” she called out, hopping up on one of the unoccupied boulders. The entire camp immediately quieted down, and every eye turned to her. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. There were no echoes of conversations trailing off, no last trills of laughter. Even Kyratus immediately stopped his story and turned in her direction. Gods, she wished humans were half as disciplined as turians!

“We’ve got enough dextro rations to last for three days. We were told to pack for three days, so that tracks. But they packed enough levo rations for me for five days, and I don’t trust the discrepancy was just chance. We’re going to have to ration out our food supply to last for five days to be safe, but I need everyone to accept that. No lingering resentment, no animosity. Either we do this as a precaution and we get picked up on day three a little hungry, or we don’t do this and risk getting to day five to be picked up while starving. This is your chance to speak up and tell me I’m wrong.”

She looked around at every cluster of turians, letting her gaze linger for a few seconds before moving on.

Garrus’ voice surprised her from just behind her left shoulder. “She means it. Humans encourage conversations that turians wouldn’t, and she’s genuinely asking.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and grinned. Thank the gods she had him on her side to translate. One of his mandibles flicked back at her as he met her eyes.

“Are you going to ration with us?” one voice called out. She sought out the speaker and found him in the group that Kyratus had been entertaining. She was pretty sure his name was Arctus.

“Yes, Arctus, of course I will,” she said decisively, gambling that she had the name correct. She didn’t necessarily need to ration herself, but it would be good for solidarity. “My biotics mean I need a lot more calories than the average human, but I’ll supplement with levo nutrient paste and eat the same number of meals that you do.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Shepard. You don’t need to go hungry just because we are,” Garrus muttered. Her eyes snapped back to him but she glared this time.

“No one’s in danger. Not the time or place to object,” she said softly.

“Right,” he said, his eyes dropping to the ground in submission.

“Any other questions or objections?” she asked, turning back to the group. She was met with silence. “Good. If you aren’t comfortable speaking up now, you can always come to me in private. I know that turian leaders aren’t normally the most approachable of people, but I honestly want to hear your opinion if it differs from mine.”

The crackling from the bonfire was the only response. She nodded in satisfaction that her initial message had been relayed appropriately. “That brings me to my next ask. If anyone has ration bars set aside for their personal stash, I’m requesting that you to come forward and give them to Justus. Some of you—” her gaze moved to linger on Taris, Vel, and Hyllus on their bench “—have already recognized the greater need of the cohort and donated what you brought. I sincerely appreciate your willingness to serve the greater good.”

Taris shifted uncomfortably and looked at Vel, who just looked at the ground. Hyllus was the only one of the three who met Shepard’s gaze and nodded appreciatively at the acknowledgement. Shepard nodded back.

“If that’s what you need, that’s what you’ll get, Shepard!” Kyratus called out. He waved his hand in the air at her and left the bright light of the fire. When he reappeared a minute later, he quickly closed the space between them to offer up several ration bars.

“Give them to Justus,” she ordered. He nodded and moved past her to comply.

One by one, several other turians left the flickering brightness cast by the bonfire and reappeared carrying ration bars. Including Kyratus, Shepard counted twelve turians in all, and Justus’ haul by the end was a truly impressive pile. He glanced up at her as he sorted through them and nodded happily. They had enough.

“Thank you all,” she called out loudly. “We’ll be able to supplement the meals with ration bars for everyone. As for everyone else, I suggest you follow their example and start hoarding ration bars in your lockers. Reception is a test of our will to survive, but you never know when they’re going to try to make us survive by eating rocks!”

The resounding flanging laughter was louder than the fire, and Shepard had to grin. Turians were easy to lead once they saw the command structure, and damned if she didn’t love them a little bit for it.

They didn’t have to be up for an early guard shift, so Shepard made sure to circulate and socialize before she headed to bed, Garrus trailing at his usual spot at her left shoulder. It was a reassuring presence, though they were going to have to discuss his slight insubordination earlier. They listened to complaints, stories, medical concerns: anything and everything a group of soldiers could talk about.

“Is it okay if I set up a hand-to-hand combat tournament?” Arctus eagerly asked when she stood next to him at the bonfire.

“Get with Garrus to set it up so it doesn’t interfere with guard duty,” she said, chucking her thumb over her shoulder at him.

“Yes, ma’am!” Arctus said happily.

“I can set up a range for target practice, if that’s okay with you?” Feris offered when she sat down beside him on a stone bench.

“Sounds perfect,” she said.

“Is there anything more than just basic first aid supplies?” one turian asked anxiously, stopping her as they walked by. “I have enough of my pills to last for a week, but I’m concerned we’ll be out here longer than that.”

“Pills for what?” she asked.

“Um, I have Quentius Syndrome,” he said.

Garrus saved her from her floundering confusion. “They didn’t leave us anything beyond basic first aid, no, but I’m sure the cadre won’t leave you out here without medication for that long. Check with Justus to see if he found anything for you. I doubt we’ll be out here for eight days, though, so you should be fine.”

The turian seemed satisfied, so they continued on their way. “Quentius Syndrome?” she asked Garrus quietly once she was sure they were out of earshot.

“He’ll be fine. It’s a genetic condition that locks his moveable plates in place. He might have a hard time moving fast if he runs out of his medication, but the worst that could happen is that his groin plates won’t move,” Garrus explained just as softly.

Shepard tried not to roll her eyes and failed. “So he couldn’t engage in ‘stress relief.’ Good to know.”

“It can make latrine visits difficult. Plus, I’ve heard it can get very painful not being able to, um, slip out of your sheath,” he said. “The condition is uncommon, but not rare.”

“Noted,” she said.

She was exhausted by this point and was trying to make it to their tent when Justus caught her.

“Which meals do you want me to substitute with ration bars?” he asked.

Shepard wanted to groan in exasperation. “Justus, I honestly don’t care. Everyone will be on different schedules with the guard duty shifts, so just give everyone a meal and two ration bars when they show up for the first time each day and they can decide for themselves.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Shepard,” he said.

When they finally made it to their tent, Shepard looked at Garrus to demand, “Do turians ever make their own decisions?!”

“No,” he said simply.

“What the hell would all of you be doing right now if I wasn’t here?” she asked incredulously.

He seemed to take it as a serious question and gave it some thought. “We’d probably still be standing around staring at each other,” he said.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said flatly.

“Well, yeah, maybe a little,” he admitted, his mandibles flexing. “I doubt anyone would have taken charge without it being directly given to them, though. We probably would have drifted around a bit before each set of partners went off to do their own thing. I don’t know if anyone would have really sorted through the supplies in an organized way. Maybe pilfered for stuff and then hoarded.”

“Turians,” Shepard muttered. It was becoming her favorite curse word. They might be easy to lead, but that was because they didn’t seem to have any creativity.

“We’re just very structure-oriented, Jane,” Garrus said. “I know it makes us, well, a bit conventional, but it usually works out well. I’m considered pretty strange for liking to go off on my own path.”

They settled into their tent after that, the darkness not quite complete enough for her to feel comfortable fooling around. They had the openings of their sleeping bags oriented towards each other though, so she was able to snuggle in for her usual nighttime dose of his comforting subvocals. It was going to suck when she had to go back to the Academy and couldn’t sleep in his arms anymore.

“You said earlier that you’d exercised some initiative a couple times,” she softly. “Got any fun stories?”

“Um, not fun, no,” he said into her hair. “On my third mission out, my whole platoon almost got wiped out. I was on overwatch with another Infiltrator on what was supposed to be a quick victory over batarian slavers. There ended up being a lot more of them than we thought, and I had to get really creative.”

“C’mon, Garrus, I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” she admonished, rubbing her hand along his waist in a soothing gesture.

He growled wordlessly. “There is, but I still lost half the platoon. I don’t really like to think about it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. She didn’t mean to dig up bad memories for him.

“It was better than losing the whole platoon,” he sighed. “And Captain Kryik was my debriefer. It’s how we met. He appreciated what I’d done but kept most of it out of his report. Probably saved my career.”

“Huh,” she said thoughtfully. “What are they going to think of what we’re doing here?”

“You mean in our bunk or in the field?” he asked, his voice suddenly lighter and teasing. One of his hands dipped down from its place on her lower back to grip one of her ass cheeks through her clothes.

“In the field, you jerk,” she laughed. She slid her hand at his waist around to his back and pulled herself against him even harder. He squeezed her back.

“I mean, technically we’re doing this in the field, soooo…” he drawled.

“Don’t get smart with me, Vakarian,” she said sternly, angling her head to nip at his mandible. “I’m still mad at you for telling me not to join you all in rationing my food.”

“Ah,” he rumbled. “That.”

“Yes, that,” she said. “Wasn’t the right time or place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, his voice muffled in her hair. He didn’t sound the least bit contrite.

“I mean it, Garrus. That’s an objection you raise in private, not in public.”

“I didn’t want you committing to something that was going to hurt you,” he said, his voice still soft. “There’s no need for you to ration your food, and I know you’re going to be starving with your biotics.”

“Part of being a leader is making sacrifices,” she said. “Rationing my own food in solidarity is more important than me being a bit hungry.”

“Hmph,” he snorted into her hair. “Watching out for you really is a full-time job. You don’t take yourself or your needs into consideration.”

“I do, they just don’t mean as much in the calculus as you apparently think they should,” she said. She nuzzled her face under his chin, breathing his scent in deeply before finishing her thought. “I’m willing to give up a lot to make the mission happen.”

He was quiet for a moment. “If I promise to keep it off-line, will you promise to listen to me when I tell you to take better care of yourself? The challenges they throw at us are just going to worse from here on out, and I don’t want you to burn yourself out before we get to the end,” he finally said.

“You drive a hard bargain, Garrus Vakarian,” she said, letting her affection for him slip into her voice. He really was quite sweet and caring when she got down to it. Other than Anderson, she’d never had anyone care about her like this before. It was strangely irresistible. “But I guess I can agree to that.”

“Then it’s a deal,” he said. “We’re in private right now, so I’m free to tell you that I think you need to take better care of yourself when it comes to food. At least rely more on the ration bars that the nutrient paste if you’re going to meal substitute.”

“Noted.”

“Don’t ‘noted’ me, Jane,” he growled softly. “The ration bars aren’t as good as the meals, but at least they’ll fill you up more than that paste will. You know that stuff’s only meant to supplement for your body’s needs if you’re eating dextro food to fill you up.”

She hated that he was right, but she could admit it when he had a point. She needed to, really. He’d come alive today when she’d praised his actions and creative thinking, and it was absolutely necessary that she keep encouraging it. “Well, I’m certainly not stealing dextro rations that will do nothing for me when everyone else needs them. So, yes, I’ll eat more ration bars than just the paste.”

“Thank you,” Garrus acknowledged.

“Are you as tired as I am?” she asked, hoping the answer was yes. That was quite enough of that conversation, and she was genuinely exhausted.

“Hell, yes,” he said, rubbing her back in slow, soothing motions. “Trailing in your wake while still tending my own efforts was quite enough for me today.”

“Then let’s go to sleep,” she offered. “My social battery is pretty tapped out.”

“‘Social battery?’ Okay, but you’ll have to explain that one tomorrow,” he said.

“Can do,” she whispered. Sleepiness dragged her eyelids closed.

----<>----

The sound of gunfire tore her from a deep and dreamless sleep. She and Garrus floundered their way out of their tent in time to hear a yell of, “Varren! From the west!”

An echoing, “Varren from the south!” was accompanied by more chattering gunshots.

Shepard seized her shotgun and slammed the heel of her hand against the heat sink to seat it all the way. She heard Garrus doing the same next to her with his sniper rifle. Their tent was on the opposite side of the camp at the northeast most position. Her eyes automatically swept their firing lanes before turning to the crisis. She could just barely make out the turians on guard duty at the north and east towers from the reflected light of one of Palaven’s moons – Menae, she was sure – and they were both facing the action.

“Hold watch on your guard sectors!” she yelled at them, and them both immediately snapped back around to watch the empty landscape.

“Idiots,” Garrus growled beside her. He matched her pace as she dashed across camp to the side facing attack.

“No, I didn’t lay out specific orders for this contingency,” she dismissed as they ran. “It’s my fault.”

“Hardly,” he said. “No one should need to be told to keep watching their lane, even if the other flank is under attack. That’s how you lose everyone.”

“Good thing I’m in charge, then. I seem to be much more forgiving than you are.”

“You aren’t wrong,” he agreed, his voice grim.

She shook her head as they arrived at the southwest corner of their camp. He seemed extraordinarily sensitive about this, but she had to let it go for the time being; she didn’t have time to drill down into whatever was going on in his psyche. The gunfire seemed to have trailed off, so she risked distracting the guard on duty on the west tower that had called out first.

“Report, soldier,” she ordered. She was pleased to note he didn’t turn to face her; he continued to scan the area with his assault rifle to his cheek.

“Big pack of varren, ma’am. Ten, maybe eleven,” he said. “I think I got most of them over here, but I’m pretty sure a couple fell into our pit traps.”

Shepard glanced behind her at the small crowd of turians that had gathered, singling out familiar faces. “Vel, Hyllus. On me,” she called out.

“And me?” Garrus asked, sounding suddenly anxious.

“Of course, you dork. I thought you were right beside me? Always assume you’re along for the ride,” she said, trying not to roll her eyes or grin. She failed to stop the grin, but it was mostly concealed by darkness.

She took point with her shotgun, Garrus firmly attached to her shoulder with his sniper rifle aimed off into the darkness. She knew his visor gave him a far better view at range than she could hope for, so she concentrated on the ground immediately in front of her feet. Vel and Hyllus spread out on their flanks with their assault rifles aimed outward.

From the pitiful whines, it was obvious as they drew closer to the inner ring of pits that at least one varren had fallen prey to the concealed traps. In the end, they found three: one clearly dead, one not dead but close enough, and one with two broken legs that was the source of the whimpers. Shepard put it out of its misery with her shotgun, while Hyllus took care of the one that was near enough to dead as to make no difference.

Shepard found herself strangely uncomfortable with what felt like a cold-blooded execution of an animal just operating on its instincts.

“This feels wrong,” she said softly. If these creatures had been unleashed on them deliberately as a test…

“Was this deliberate?” she wondered out loud. The three turians didn’t answer her for a moment, the silence oppressive around them.

“If it was, and you weren’t here to organize us, this would have been a lot messier,” Garrus said uncertainly. “No one would have died – any soldier that can’t handle a varren has no business being a soldier – but there would have been at least minor injuries. Surely, they wouldn’t do that?”

“They would,” Vel said quietly. She met Shepard’s eyes briefly before looking down. Shepard felt a surge of anger.

“Vel, why didn’t you tell us?” she demanded. Vel glanced back up sharply.

“Don’t ask questions I can’t answer, Shepard,” she said, her voice low and fierce. The insistence of it gave Shepard pause. Vel had been a steadfast supporter, even if she wasn’t in Shepard’s regular smaller friend group. She hadn’t ever seemed like a person who would set others up for failure just so she could succeed. An idea occurred to Shepard that was so logical that she was shocked it hadn’t occurred to her before.

“Vel, do they swear you to secrecy about training events if you’re going through officer selection a second time?” she asked.

Vel’s mandibles fluttered briefly in surprise, her gaze no longer a glare. “Well, yes,” she said.

“Oh, why didn’t you say?” Shepard asked. “I expect being allowed a second chance means they think you’ll make it through, but it sure would be nice to know that you aren’t supposed to talk about anything. None of us will hold it against you, I promise.”

“Uh, right. Thanks,” Vel said in a peculiar tone. She almost sounded bewildered.

The three turians followed her as she swept south to check on the other guard and get his report. There had only been three varren here, and the guard on duty was one of the few that favored the sniper rifle like Garrus. He’d managed to take all three out before they got to the outer line of pit traps.

“Well done,” Shepard praised warmly.

“Ma’am,” he said, ducking his head in what Shepard recognized from Garrus’ body language as shyness. She knew she would only make it worse if she reiterated herself with more elaboration, so she nodded at him and turned back to camp.

“Back to bed, everyone,” Shepard ordered when they reached the small crowd. “Just a small varren pack and nothing to worry about. Take it as a good reason to pay attention when it’s your turn for guard duty. The ones on duty tonight performed perfectly, and the pit traps you all dug took out the ones that tried to slip through.”

After Vel and Hyllus peeled away for their own tent after only a few steps, so she and Garrus were left alone to cross back over to the other side of camp. “Brief the guards on the situation,” she told him quietly, “and give the reprimand I know you want to give. But no punishment, and no yelling.”

Garrus seemed grim when she met his eyes. “I learned the I’m-not-mad-I’m-disappointed speech by heart before I turned five, Jane. I’ve got this.”

Jeez, what kind of man is his father anyway? she wondered as she made her way back to their shared tent on her own.

 It was ten minutes before he joined her – she kept track on her omnitool – setting his sniper rifle down next to his sleeping bag and settling in next to her without a word. He tucked his pillow up under the back of his fringe so he could lay on his back, not pulling her into his arms as was their usual custom. She let him stew in whatever was bothering him for several minutes. They weren’t quite touching, but she could still feel his subvocals vibrating the air in the scant inch between them. They sounded intense.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she finally asked. He just grunted in response. “I’ve had…well, a lot of therapy. I’ve found it helps to talk about something that’s bothering me.”

His grunt was a more thoughtful “mmm?” this time, and she took it as encouragement, rolling over to her side to fling one arm across his keel. She slowly dragged her palm back across his plates, ending by propping her chin on her forearm to look at his face in the dimness. “I’m here to listen.”

He heaved a sigh. “You aren’t going to give up, are you?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “Trust me, big guy. Getting it out makes it feel better.”

“Fiiiiine,” he drawled, but his glare clearly wasn’t serious. His subvocals had also calmed down, vibrating at a pitch that she recognized as approaching contentment. He still took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back.

“That slaver base attack I mentioned? The reason it went sideways wasn’t just the unanticipated strength of the band.” His gaze shifted to the ceiling of their tiny tent. “Everyone was so young and eager. No one listened to the commander when he said focus on our sectors of fire. They were too excited for our first real combat. I’d…I’d gone to basic with a lot of them, you see. Turians like to train cohorts together. We split off for specialization training after, but we almost always get assigned to a unit with the same guys we went to basic with.”

Oh. He’d said before that half of them had died. Damn, this was going to be bad.

“Even the other Infiltrator got too eager. His name was Stanix. I’ll never forget the way he…fuck. Never mind.” Garus took a ragged breath. “He didn’t stick to cover. Too busy popping shots off at targets. He didn’t even take cover when his sniper rifle was overloaded. He just kept surveying the battlefield, looking for targets. Like he was invisible. He wasn’t, though. I watched the bullet go straight through his eye. I’ll never forget what that looked like.”

His eyes were unfocused, but rested on the tent ceiling above them as he relived his memories. She rubbed small circles on the hide just under his keel with her fingers, knowing he was probably beyond consciously feeling it at the moment.

“It was a typical straight rush attack. But the side that wasn’t under immediate counterattack turned to fight to support the side that was. When the batarians made a flanking move, they were taken from behind. That’s where most of our casualties were: the unprotected flank. Fucking idiots. Too busy trying to get in on the action to see that they opened the door to our defeat.”

His talons on her back had probably made it through several layers of her skin with how tightly he was gripping her, but she hardly felt it. He needed her to hear him out.

“I did a lot of dumb shit to save just half of them. Damn near lost my career with the dumb shit I did. Those cluster bomb traps were a terrible idea, but they worked. But now…now. Why do I feel guilty? I would have reacted even worse a year ago. Six months ago, even! I would have torn the guards a new hole over this transgression, but I just gave them a quiet reaming out like you wanted. And it felt okay.”

She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and sooth his angst away, but she knew that wouldn’t help. He was grappling with the disconcerting feeling of getting over a traumatic event, and it was something he had to come to terms with himself. Didn’t mean she couldn’t at least try to help, though. She wouldn’t presume to think she knew exactly how he was feeling, but she’d gone through enough tragedies to know the emotional beats.

“Shit, Garrus, it’s been…what? Three years? In my experience, that’s the point where it maybe starts to get a little better. A little easier to bear the weight of your memories of what happened. Maybe you’re just coming to terms with it. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but that’s okay. Hell, that’s a good thing.”

The silence was her only answer for a moment. She hoped she hadn’t overstepped.

“Maybe,” he finally allowed. He abruptly rolled to crush her against him.

“Maybe,” he breathed in her ear.

His breathing soon settled into the deep evenness of his sleep, and she burrowed against him to do the same, grateful he’d let go of his emotional turmoil enough to sleep.

----<>----

There were two more varren attacks in the night: one on the second night and one on the fourth. Shepard’s personal disgust with the idea grew each time, even if she didn’t have to personally kill any of them trapped in a pit after that first night. She had to remind herself that she had no personal investment in how turians trained their officers. She was here for cultural exchange and nothing more, and she was certainly getting a good idea of turian culture.

Taris won the hand-to-hand tournament that Arctus put together. She had been sure Garrus would have won if he’d entered, but he’d politely declined, citing a conflict of interest as the tournament’s co-organizer. He did watch every match and helped keep the cheering to a dull roar, reminding some of the more boisterous spectators that people were sleeping in preparation for their guard shift.

When Trebia set on the fourth day, one partner pair came up to Shepard to apologize sheepishly, telling her that they’d gone along with the rationing, but hadn’t actually thought it would be necessary. She graciously accepted their apologies while ignoring the gnawing hunger in her own stomach. It wouldn’t have hurt so damn much if she could even use her stupid biotics!

It was late in the afternoon on the fifth day and Shepard was bolting down her prepackaged meal when a guard’s cry drew her attention. “Shuttle to the northwest!”

She traded grins with Garrus next to her. “Damn near spot on,” she said under her breath.

“Yeah,” he agreed happily.

Captain Kryik himself stepped off the shuttle, and Shepard was there to meet him with Garrus at his usual place at her shoulder. Kryik studied them for a moment before his gaze swept over the well-organized camp. Their guards were still at their posts, several turians hadn’t bothered to stop practicing at Feris’ range when the shuttle appeared, and only a half dozen were clustered at the edge of the camp by the shuttle to watch it land.

His eyes met Shepard’s again, their cool green assessment not nearly as intimidating as the first time they’d met.

“Well done, Shepard,” he said with a nod.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, bobbing her head slightly in a respectful acknowledgement of his words. Praise from a turian was rare indeed.

One step closer.

Chapter Text

Shepard’s view down the scope of the sniper rifle was devoid of life; the circle of her limited vision framed just a hole in the metallic landscape. She took a deep breath, willing her impatience back down. The view through the scope dipped as she beathed in.

“Steady. Watch your sight picture.”

Garrus’ flanging voice was a calm reminder in her earpiece as her view resumed moving slowly in time with her regular breaths. She was sure he had an easier time using this with his visor over his other eye, because there was no way he was as good as he was with such a basic scope. The thing barely had ranging on it! And he must have tied in something to its electronics to know that her sight picture had dropped when she took her deeper breath.

Besides, she’d take a good shotgun any day over even the most advanced sniper rifle. This long-distance stuff required far more patience than she had hope of ever possessing.

“How do you know when it will pop up?” she whispered back.

“You don’t. That’s why you have to have patience.”

She thought she’d been damn close to discovering at least some patience over the last day. They’d been dropped off two hundred kilometers from base and were told to make it back if they could. “No time limit, no failing if you call for evac,” the instructor had said.

They could have hiked back on just the ration bars they had hoarded, but their packs had been dumped, the ration bars removed, and the same unsmiling cadre member handed her a box of levo paste packets before shoving them off the shuttle. Despite that, there hadn’t even been a question of if they would make the attempt at it or not; they just grimly got to it.

So now Garrus was trying to teach her how to hunt the Palaveni native fauna. Trying being the operative word, because she really didn’t have the knack for this.

“So much easier to just go to a kiosk and order,” she muttered. She’d already gone through several packets of the paste, but her stomach was growling at her to put something real in it.

“My mother used to take me and my sister out camping,” came his soft voice in her ear again. “She taught us how to do this. I was eager the first time out, but once I’d killed something…well, I wasn’t as eager afterwards.”

“What changed?” she asked curiously, her eyes not moving from the hole that he’d assured her held something called a “hoplus.”

“Medium-sized omnivore with more meat on their bones than you’d expect for Palaven. Primarily an herbivore but becomes an opportunistic carnivore during the lean summer months,” he explained. “One of those should tide us over for the rest of the hike. The trick is that you have to wait for it to pop out of its hole, and they won’t until Trebia starts to set.”

Well, Trebia was most of the way to set now, and all Shepard could see was dust and rocks. Garrus was silent for a moment, and she had to resist the temptation to glance up at the rock outcropping he’d taken as his overwatch perch. But he eventually finally answered her question. “Once I’d killed something, I found I wasn’t so excited to do it again for the sake of some thrilling hunt. It was just an animal living its life. What right did I have to take it for fun? My mother taught me how to dress and butcher it, so we used as much of it as we could. That helped but, well, it was never the same. All of my friends loved to hunt for exhilaration’s sake, so I had to pretend to as well. I hated it.”

She felt a momentary stutter in her soul at her glimpse into how soft-hearted he truly was. To be as secretly kind as that in such a militarized society must have been awful for him. Probably still was.

“What about people?” she asked curiously. “Is it the same when you kill them?”

“Oh, no,” he said, sounding surprised. “Any people that I’ve killed have deserved it.”

All right, maybe not that awful for him after all. Bloody-minded turians.

“Wouldn’t this be easier if we just set a trap for it?” she asked. Garrus snorted.

“It would dig a different exit hole. They aren’t the brightest creatures, but they aren’t that irredeemably stupid.”

It was another half hour before a twitching nose appeared from the hole. Shepard had to school her breathing back down when it hitched in excitement; she thankfully got it back under control before Garrus could comment on it.

“Wait until it’s completely out of its hole. If you shoot it before then, it will just tumble back down and we’ll never get it.”

Patience, she reminded herself. If she missed this, they’d go hungry, and it was increasingly likely that they’d have to call for an evac. She would not let that happen.

“Patience,” came Garrus’ quiet mutter in her ear.

“Patience,” she whispered in confirmation.

The whole head had appeared by now, and it was extraordinarily ugly. Where a turian’s face plates had an undeniable aesthetic beauty to them, this thing’s protective outer layer was decidedly not attractive. A turian’s plates were sweeping and elegant. This thing looked like it was caked in hardened mud.

“Once it’s all the way out, you’ll only have a couple seconds to land your shot before it runs off. Little guys are surprisingly fast.”

She kept the target of her scope trained on its face as more of its body emerged from the burrow. The rest of it was covered in the same repulsive plates, and Shepard found herself hoping there was more to them underneath. Garrus had assured her it would have enough meat to sustain them.

“This Mantis has a slight drift. If the range is above a hundred meters, keep your aim point just slightly to the left. If it’s above two hundred meters, aim even father to the left.”

This was the part that made her the most nervous. The rudimentary ranging on the scope read 154 m.

“Slightly to the left,” Garrus reminded her.

“I am,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You’ve got to relax,” he admonished softly. “You will miss your shot if you’re too tense. You’ve got this.”

Shepard hadn’t felt this level of uncertainty in a long time. Years, really. She’d been bold as a street rat, had her spirit broken by Mercy at fifteen, and found her confidence again at Grissom. Basic training had taught her to fear no challenge. She had to reframe the whole hunting thing: this was a challenge just like any other.

“You can do this,” Garrus breathed.

“I can do this,” she repeated. She let the up arrow at the tip of her aim point drift slightly to the left, then just a touch more. The hoplus finally emerged all the way from its den, digging its feet into the dirt to take off.

She took in a slow, steady breath, then let it out. The arrow dipped back down to just beside the creature’s head and she squeezed the trigger. The recoil wasn’t as bad as her shotgun, but she wasn’t used to looking through a scope when she fired. By the time she recentered her view, she wouldn’t have had a hope in hell of getting a second shot off if she’d needed to.

Fortunately, a second shot wasn’t necessary.

“Well done, Jane!” Garrus cried excitedly. “Head shot!”

The fading light was still enough to illuminate the animal that lay slumped over at the exit to its lair, its claws still dug into the dirt as it prepared to run. She felt a momentary stab of regret for taking a life, but this wasn’t like the varrens. This was killing out of necessity.

She stood and jogged off to meet Garrus as he came scrambling down from his rock perch. The met at the hole and he held up his fist, a now-familiar spread-mandible grin on his face. She tapped her own fist against his and returned the grin. Usually, their encouragement went the other way, but this was a nice change.

“Well done,” he said again, his voice warm with approval. “I didn’t doubt you for a moment.”

“I sure as hell did,” Shepard said, handing his sniper rifle back to him. He traded it for her shotgun, the weight an accustomed heft in her grasp. She sighed in relief to have it back again. “I appreciate your teaching, but you can do the hunting from now on. I kept freaking out that I’d miss and we’d have to call for evac.”

“C’mon, Jane, I trust you,” he said reassuringly. He crouched down over the creature she’d shot and started to dress it with a knife he pulled off his belt. “Besides, we could’ve hunted again. I saw griskat tracks nearby. They’re nasty when confronted – and venomous, so you have to really be careful – but that would have fed us, too.”

“Uh, shouldn’t we be on the lookout for nasty, venomous predators, then?” She raised her shotgun automatically as her eyes did a quick sweep of the horizon.

“No, they like to hide in even deeper holes than this one and snag things that wander by. I’ve steered us clear of their territory. Their traps are easy to see if you know what to look for,” he said with complete unconcern.

For all that Shepard had adapted to life outside of a city once she’d enlisted in the Marines, and she could make a field camp with the best of them, she was absolutely not used to being alone in wilderness as untamed as this. And it wasn’t even Earth wilderness! Weird animals and a distinct lack of deep green vegetation were the theme on Palaven, and it made her feel even more uneasy.

“Get a fire going?” he asked, looking up at her. “It’ll keep scavengers away, and we’ll need to cook this.”

“No other predators a concern?” she asked as she pulled her own knife from her belt and getting to work on the plants around them. Though they were short, they had a tough, woody bark. Without Trebia overhead, the metallic sheen on their leaves wasn’t obvious either. She could almost imagine she was chopping through the underbrush in a Brazilian jungle.

“No, turians occupy the apex predator spot. We drove most of the others into extinction tens of thousands of years ago.” He’d worked his way through the outer layer of the hoplus’ protective plates, and Shepard very deliberately avoided looking at him as he continued. “Other than things in the oceans – which turians stay out of for obvious reasons – the griskat is about the worse thing you’ll find out here. And they’re pretty shy.”

“What about those varren?” she asked.

“Varren are a problem on any planet. How they managed to spread so far and wide from Tuchanka is a mystery. At least we know how thresher maw spore manage to get through space, but varren? I figure the krogan spread them deliberately to piss the rest of us off. But, no, turians are pretty voracious hunters for sport these days. We’ve cleared a lot of the varren that found their way to Palaven out.”

“For fun?” Shepard asked, her tone disbelieving.

“Yes, for fun.”

“I…I have to keep reminding myself not to judge you all by human standards,” she confessed, dumping an armload of severed branches down next to him.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Krogans are considered the bloodthirsty fighters of the galaxy, but turians are proud of our reputation as disciplined soldiers. What we don’t advertise is that the flipside of being disciplined is how hard you have to blow off steam sometimes. Hunting is one of the ways we do that.”

“Let me guess: sex is another?” she asked, laughing.

“You got it!” he laughed back. She risked a glance at him and found him up to his bony elbow plates in blue blood. Yuck.

“Is that why we seemed to instantly get along after that first night we spent together?” she asked curiously, trying to ignore the blood.

“Oh, absolutely,” he confirmed without looking up from his messy task. “You were challenging the limits of my self-control. Stress relief through sex is always welcome. I was much more positively inclined to you after that. Plus…”

He trailed off, his knife slowing in its gory work. “Plus what?” she prompted.

“Plus, turian men sort of…we sort of give our mates whatever they want. You and I aren’t mates!” he added in a hurried rush. “But we do things together that I think prompt the same response.”

She blew out her breath to keep from using it to laugh. “Garrus, are you telling me that turian men are, like, devoted wife guys?”

“Uh, what?”

She did laugh this time. “Yeah, you all are, aren’t you?”

“What’s a ‘wife guy?’” he asked.

“You, apparently,” she snorted.

“What? My dad taught me to respect the women in my life. Made sure I knew they always came first. I’m not going to cater to some random woman or anything, but the ones that are important to me deserve my deference.”

She let it go, resolving to keep her giggles firmly contained. He was going to make some turian a very happy woman one day. And if she didn’t make him a very happy man in return? Well, Shepard would just have to hunt her down and make sure she understood the necessity of treating Garrus right. He might have a spiky enough exterior to rival even the toughest hoplus, but it sheltered a sensitive heart that she was ready to fight to the death to protect.

She didn’t challenge him to elaborate after that, letting him get deep in his butchery while she built up the fire. The hoplus was much larger up close than it had been through the distance of her scope, and she was no longer concerned that it wouldn’t be enough to feed them. He had chunks of meat spit for roasting on his tent stake by the time she was done building a big enough fire to cook it on.

She let her chunks cook for quite a while, reluctant to tear into it while it was still half raw the way Garrus seemed to relish it. She reminded herself she’d had her levo nutrient paste and she would be just fine if she let it finish cooking all the way. She thought it would be best if it was well done for her. It still smelled unappetizing by the time she finally removed it from the fire and brought it to her mouth to take a bite.

“Gods, this tastes awful,” she laughed. She still devoured it just to make her stomach feel full.

“We should probably rest for a few hours by the safety of the fire before we try to knock out any more distance tonight,” Garrus offered around his mouthful.

“We’re already forty kilometers in,” she pointed out. They’d hiked for quite a bit of time today before he’d stopped them for the hunt. “With the food and plenty of rest, I think we can do half of it in one go tomorrow.”

He hefted his water bladder in concern. “Yes, but only if we manage to find a water source tomorrow.”

They had disinfectant tabs and would be able to drink any running water they found. “Agreed. Water should be a priority tomorrow. If we can’t find water, I’m not making it to tomorrow night. Palaven is so damn hot.”

Garus glanced at where they’d hung up thing strips of sliced hoplus flesh high over the fire to dry. He’d said it would preserve quickly for the rest of their trip, but she didn’t know what “quickly” meant to a turian.

“How long will that drying process take?” she asked.

“Long enough for us to get a good night’s sleep if you want it,” he said. “It would probably be just fine if we only let it set for a few hours, but it would be better if we let it go a full ten.”

“That settles it, then,” she said decisively. “Let’s rest for ten hours and get as much distance down tomorrow as we can. I imagine we won’t finish well because we took so much time to hunt, but I think it’s worth it to not starve.”

“Agreed,” he said.

“Good. I’ll get the sleeping bags laid out.”

----<>----

They hit the outer perimeter fence of their training base two and a half grueling days later. They were just trying to figure out which way would be the quickest path to the closest entrance when a familiar shuttle appeared from over the horizon to swoop down and pick them up. Captain Kryik stood just inside the door to greet them.

“Well, done, Vakarian,” he said, nodding at Garrus. “Taking the time to hunt was a wise decision. You are the first two to make it back to base without calling for evacuation.”

She was surprised to hear that they were the first to stumble back to base. She would have figured with all the time that they spent hunting the hoplus – which, to be fair, had made the rest of their journey much easier – would have meant they’d be one of the last ones back.

“Thank you, sir,” Garrus said. He almost looked confused by the praise.

“You have a question, Vakarian?” Kryik asked.

“If it’s permitted, sir.”

“I’ll allow it,” Kryik said, opening one hand with his palm up.

Garrus hesitated for only a fraction of a second before plunging on. “If there was no time limit, why wouldn’t someone take the time to hunt for food?”

Kryik’s mandibles flared for a moment. He seemed pleased by Garrus’ confusion. Or maybe he was pleased that he asked for clarification to it. “Because failure to complete the course doesn’t mean you get kicked out, Candidate Vakarian. Many of your cohort are already in the barracks, having succumbed to the heat and their hunger. It’s incredible what happens when something isn’t mandatory. I am responsible for the final assessments of your cohort, and I find this to be one of the most illuminating exercises that you face here.”

Shepard hoped Garrus got the message, and he seemed to when he nodded at Captain Kryik and said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Though it took them a long time to finish, they had finished and had made significant effort to do so. Kryik saw that effort and recognized it appropriately.

She felt a gleeful swell of happiness at the thought of the career they were setting Garrus up for. At this rate, he was going to be a general in a few years if she had anything to do with it.

Chapter Text

They only had a couple days to recover from the punishing survival exercise before they were sent back out again. Half the cohort was just fine because they’d tapped out early without even trying, but the other half – Shepard and Garrus included – were still tired from trying to hike two hundred kilometers without food.

This time, it was a one-hundred-kilometer-long land nav course that they had to complete as a group. Shepard was pleased to find that their group included all their friends. She spared a momentary thought of gratefulness to Captain Kryik, knowing damn well it had to be him that gave her the four sets of partners they usually hung out with. They set off for their first land nav point, and Shepard wasted no time in making her proposal.

“This is probably going to sound crazy, but what would the eight of you think of working together during the Forge? I know you turians tend to make competition a way of life but just imagine what we could do if we work together instead of separately!” she said, excitement bleeding into her voice. “Pylinax, you said that no one had taken out even half the upper cohort in forever. What do you think of taking out the entire cohort?!”

Pylinax shook his head at her. “There’s no way, Shepard. They’re far too fortified.”

“Not if our whole cohort works together,” Shepard insisted.

“If anyone can do it, Shepard can,” Vorinus interjected quietly. The female turian flashed a brief grin at Shepard before adding, “My older brother is an officer. I sent him a message about what happened with the field exercise. His reply included what happened to his cohort. It was a disaster. Could’ve been for us, too. Except for you, Shepard.”

Shepard felt a momentary shock roll through her. If anyone had spoken up in support, she would have expected Garrus. Maybe Vel. The absolute last person she would have expected was Vorinus, who she thought still carried hatred for her, just hidden deep down.

“She’s right,” came Taris’ deep voice from behind her. Shepard glanced over her shoulder to find him walking sedately next to Vel, his long legs truncated in their stride to match hers. “They do everything to encourage competition here. But, Shepard, you’re doing everything to encourage cooperation. And it works. Everyone can see that.”

“Doesn’t hurt that you and Vakarian are trouncing everyone on the leaderboard,” Kyratus added slyly, one mandible cocked out. He’d fallen into their march next to Hyllus, and she nodded next to him.

“None of us have a chance of placing first,” she added. “Makes it easier to support those who do. You’re clearly better than everyone here, and we turians respect that.”

“It’s true,” Garrus said next to her. “We can acknowledge when others are vastly superior to us. It’s an unspoken part of authority and promotion. You’re far better than the rest of us, Shepard.”

Vel snorted a laugh from her spot next to Taris. “You’re not so bad yourself, Vakarian. You’re…a lot less rigid than I gave you credit for.”

“Well, we aren’t identical copies of our parents,” Shepard said lightly. Josinae glanced over her shoulder ahead of Shepard like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Shepard was grateful for her discretion.

“I, for one, would love to learn some offensive biotic techniques,” Justus said. “We’d be happy to work with you during the Forge, Shepard.”

She couldn’t contain her grin at that. “I’ve got so much to show you, Justus!”

“We’re in, too,” Kyratus said behind her.

“And obviously us, as well,” Vorinus added. She glared at Pylinax and poked him with one long finger. “No more pessimism, you.”

“Far be it from me to deny you your well-earned leadership,” Vel said dryly. She shared a nod with Hyllus. “Of course we’re in, Shepard.”

“Thank you all,” Shepard said warmly. They could do this. It was going to work. “When we get back, start spreading the word quietly. Anyone that doesn’t want to participate is free to go their own way, but we all stand a much better chance of getting through this together. Us standing alone and separate is how they win every time. This cohort is going to shock the hell out of them.”

Shepard let herself drift back from Garrus a bit as they continued to make their way to the next point. He glanced at her, but she shook her head. His face betrayed his confusion, but he let her go and went to walk next to Pylinax and Vorinus. Shepard was pleased with him for the obvious trust he had in her.

She kept her pace slow until she fell in beside Taris and Vel. They weren’t saying much, so Shepard dropped a bright, “How is everyone doing?” into the conversational void.

“Fine,” Vel said. Taris just nodded. If Shepard had a credit for every time a turian made her want to roll her eyes, she’d be a rich woman once Reception was done.

“Everyone’s feet doing okay?” she asked. “No problems with the amount of rations?”

They’d been allowed to keep their ration bars this time but had also been given regular field rations. They had enough for three days, which should be more than enough to make it through the one-hundred kilometer course.

“Feet are fine, rations are good,” Vel said shortly. Taris just nodded in agreement again. Shepard stopped herself from snarling turians under her breath.

“I’ve got to hit the latrine,” Kyratus said behind them.

“I’ll go with you,” Hyllus offered.

“And me,” Vel added. “I’m definitely overdue.”

“We can stop and take a break,” Shepard offered. They’d only been walking for thirty minutes, so she really didn’t want to, but it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Nah,” Kyratus declined. “We can catch up. Five minutes at the most. Besides—” he hefted his shotgun “—we’ll watch each other’s backs.”

“All right, stay safe,” Shepard ordered. Kyratus acknowledged it with a vague wave to his brow plates. Shepard had to grin at his irreverent mockery of a salute.

That left her walking next to Taris alone. She hadn’t kicked back too hard on the latrine break for the others because it was exactly what she wanted. The big turian didn’t say a word, although he glanced over his shoulder more than once to where the other three had disappeared into the scrub brush.

Shepard couldn’t contain herself any longer. “All right, Taris, I can’t take this anymore. What’s up with you? You’re so quiet, and it’s like you don’t think anyone will want to hear what you have to say,” she burst out. “Hell, you seemed surprised when I finally asked what your name was.”

Taris turned to look at her, his brow plates scrunching in confusion. “You mean you don’t know?”

“What am I supposed to know?!” she asked in frustration.

“I’m a bareface,” he said, as if that explained anything.

“You mean you don’t have face markings? I mean, I can see that. But so what?” she asked. He looked faintly scandalized at that.

“I’m clanless. No colony,” he said. Ah, he must be an orphan like her.

“I’m an orphan, too,” she said gently. “It’s not how we got here. It’s what we do once we’re here.”

“What? No, I have parents,” he said. “We just don’t belong to a clan. My…m’father took my mother against her will. I’m the result. She was cast out from her clan because she chose to keep me. Had her markings scrubbed off. She had to stick with my father to survive. His family couldn’t catch up with him to remove his markings, so we could mostly manage because at least he looked respectable.”

Oh.

Oops.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I…I’m afraid I don’t know what any of this means.”

Well, she knew exactly what some of it meant, but she’d be damned if she talked directly about it without him bringing it up first. It was clear that his father had raped his mother, and she’d had to stay with him just to live. Gods, his childhood had probably been just as hellish as her own, if in a different way.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Most people would never even ask. No one gives us barefaces much thought.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” she said. “It’s not like either of you stopped being a person when your mother was cast out from her clan.”

“As far as most turians are concerned, we did.”

Shepard had to suppress her outrage at the idea. A turian’s face markings were clearly important, as were their clan and colony ties. She should reserve her judgment. She would have been adopted and raised well if she’d been a turian, but as a human orphan, she’d practically starved on the streets. It wasn’t like either species had it perfectly right.

“Can you join another clan?” she asked. He glanced over his shoulder again.

“Yes, through bonding, but it’s almost impossible. We barefaces don’t have much to offer anyone. Who would want to bond with us? If we end up with anyone, it’s usually with another bareface.”

“There are always possibilities. You like Vel, right?” Shepard asked, deciding to change her tack.

“What? No!” Taris protested. By his strangled tone, that wasn’t true at all. Shepard wanted to laugh.

“There’s a lot of versions of ‘like,’ Taris. I think you’re protesting a little too much,” she admonished.

“Even if I did, she doesn’t like me. I’m certainly not good enough for her. She deserves much better.” His head hung at his words.

“Taris—” she started, but she was cut off by the crashing sounds of three returning turians. Taris lengthened his stride and moved ahead of Shepard. She would have had to run to keep up with the tall turian, and she didn’t want to suffer the indignity. She let him escape her interrogation and Vel’s return, although the woman in question watched his back as he settled into a walk next to Justus.

Shepard watched Josinae take a bearing on their land nav point and shift their course by a few degrees to the left. She covertly took her own quick bearing and saw Josinae was spot on with her direction. Shepard felt a wave of gratefulness that the friends group she’d stumbled into was so damn competent. And, while he liked to sell himself short, her partner was damn near flawless. He was a perfect complement to her own skillset.

“Hey, Vel,” she said conversationally. “About Taris—”

“Don’t,” Vel practically hissed, not even looking at Shepard. Well, wasn’t that an equally telling reaction?

“What?” Shepard asked with as much unworldliness in her tone as she could muster. Just a stupid, ignorant human here. “I’m not familiar with the whole concept of barefaces.”

“Don’t call him that!” Vel said sharply.

“Oh, sorry,” Shepard said quickly. “That’s what he called himself. I’m afraid I don’t have any cultural context for what that means. Is it an insult?”

“Yes, and I wish he wouldn’t call himself that,” Vel snapped. “He deserves much better.”

Shepard didn’t take any offense at the heat in her friend’s voice. Vel’s gaze was firmly fixed on Taris’ broad back as she spoke; the subject of her ire was clear.

Shepard reached as far back into her past as she could to draw on the coached innocence of a street rat working to connive a tourist out of their credits. “But he can marry into a clan, right?” she asked. The shift of Vel’s glad sideways to Shepard told her she hadn’t been as successful as she’d hoped.

“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “But most clans wouldn’t adopt him without some extraordinary mitigating circumstances. He could bond with someone, but it doesn’t mean her clan would accept him.”

“Well, that seems silly. This whole arranged bonding thing just seems weird to me,” Shepard confessed.

“What do you mean?” Vel asked, her voice shifting into curiosity.

“I’m not completely ignorant. Garrus told me about how turian parents pick out their children’s potential bondmate,” Shepard explained. “Then you court for a bit to figure out if it’ll work and go forward with the marriage.”

Vel actually laughed and shook her head as she looked forward again. “Spirits, Shepard, you’ve been steered wrong. Most of us don’t do that anymore. We’re free to choose our own partners if we want. Granted, it’s usually a very short courtship either way we get there. We don’t really do relationships the way you humans do; it’s pretty much all-in or just casual. But the whole arranged bonding thing is reserved for a very exclusive strata of our society. Or when someone asks their parents to do it because they’re struggling to find someone.”

Wait, what? she thought in confusion. If that practice was reserved for a “very exclusive strata” and Garrus just took it as fact, that must mean that…

“Your partner up there—” Vel pointed at Garrus “—could be the Primarch of Palaven one day if he had half a mind for it. After the last couple months, I’m convinced he has the mind, but not the will. He’ll go far, whichever path he chooses, but I doubt it will be that one. He doesn’t have the attitude for it. He hides it well, but he’s far too kind for politics.”

Shepard had found some good information on the structure of the turian Hierarchy when she’d been doing her research what seemed like ages ago to come here. Each planet in the Hierarchy had a ruler called a primarch, and the Primarch of Palaven had the most power of them all. Even the turian councilor on the Citadel would come on a fast ship if he called. A primarch wasn’t exactly a king, but the one of the turian homeworld seemed damn close to it.

There was a strict line of succession that supposedly wasn’t based on blood relations, but Shepard hadn’t thought she needed to read too deeply into it at the time. Where exactly did her baffling partner sit on that list? And was he even conscious of it?

“Is Garrus some kind of prince?” she asked Vel.

“Prince?” Vel asked.

“Y’know, royalty?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Vel said as she cocked her head at Shepard. “I’m sure his patrilineal expectations will net him a wife of a similar class. We may preach meritocracy, but some of us start higher in it than others. So, if you’re thinking that what you two do in the bunks will lead to anything more, you should probably forget about it. Not that it stands much of a chance given your species anyway.”

Shepard felt an icy cold sensation wash through her. That was depressingly similar to what Garrus himself had said about how everyone else felt about him. It was clear he thought he wasn’t succeeding on his own merits, even if it was blindingly obvious to anyone that looked that he was a phenomenal soldier in his own right. He was tactically brilliant, possessed a tenacious drive to never quit, and was one of the best snipers she’d ever seen.

She ignored the weird niggling sensation in her belly at the idea of him married to a turian woman. He deserved to be happy. And normal, for that matter. She’d be an albatross around his neck if he tied himself to her.

“He made it quite clear that it wouldn’t,” Shepard said, wondering why her voice felt strangely high. “And that’s all I want, too. So, we’re fine. I’m fine. With that.”

Shepard was very deliberately not looking at Vel, but she could practically feel the focus of her eyes on her. “I’m only saying that because I don’t want to see you hurt, Shepard. Nihlus said — spirits, never mind.”

Shepard mentally reviewed Garrus’ list of their cohort that she’d studied over and over to memorize everyone’s names. She didn’t remember a “Nihlus” on the list.

“Who’s Nihlus?” she asked. “And what did he say?”

Shepard managed to pull her gaze to Vel and found the woman staring at the ground as they walked, her mandibles pulled tightly against her face. She knew from experience with Garrus that it meant she was upset. Whether that meant Vel was angry with someone or just upset in general, Shepard had no idea. She’d never have the hearing range or knowledge to interpret the accompanying subvocals that would give the correct meaning.

“He’s a friend,” Vel finally said. “He knows the Vakarians. Well, he knows the Vakarians as well as anyone outside their tier possibly could. Which is to say, not well at all. But he’s quite sure that they mean for him to bond high and aim even higher in the Hierarchy. So, just…don’t set yourself up for pain, Shepard.”

Shepard knew Vel meant well with whatever it was she was trying to communicate, so she forced a laugh. “Humans do this thing called friends-with-benefits, Vel. It seems really similar to what turians do. I’m not setting myself up for anything more than that. I promise.”

“Right,” Vel said, though she didn’t sound very convinced.

“Besides,” Shepard continued, “a human and a turian? There’s a relationship that would never work out! I’m surprised we can even, uh, do what we’re doing. I had no idea coming here that our species was, um, anatomically compatible.”

Vel chuckled. “Most species in the galaxy are to some degree; you just have to get a little creative sometimes. Turians going outside their own species are vanishingly rare, though, except with asari. But even that isn’t very common. I once had a friend that ran off with a batarian. She’s doing okay, though they have to live on Omega. Seems to be where we end up if we go the non-traditional route, since she’s made a couple turian friends there in a similar situation. I don’t ask questions about the one with an elcor.”

Shepard had seen the copies of Fornax that some of the Marines passed around. Humans certainly had a fascination with alien sex, though turians hadn’t been regularly featured. She’d thought the historical reason obvious – the magazine had been founded only a decade after the First Contact War – but now she had to wonder if turians just didn’t do porn the way the rest of the galaxy did. Why bother with it when you could just turn to your friend next to you and ask if they wanted to relieve some stress?

“What’s Omega?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Mining colony out in the Terminus,” Vel said. “It’s built into an eezo-rich asteroid. Imagine the Citadel but run by gangs and crime. It’s not a place any respectable turian would go. Or human, for that matter.”

“Plenty of disreputable humans,” Shepard muttered.

“Not as many disreputable turians, though the Blue Suns is a mercenary group that has an awful lot of them. They have a significant presence there,” Vel acknowledged. “The place has been a stone in the Council species’ cowl for several thousand years.”

Several thousand years? Gods, humans were just figuring out how to smelt iron several thousand years ago. Shepard sometimes lost track of the timescale of galactic civilization, but Omega’s mere existence was a stark reminder that humans really were an infant civilization as far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned.

“Tell me about turian history, Vel?” Shepard asked. “We don’t get much exposure to anything other than Earth history, and I’d love to know more. We’ve got a lot of walking ahead of us, and it would be a great way to occupy ourselves.”

Vel favored her with a smile. “I’d be happy to, Shepard.”

----<>----

It was lunchtime on the second day when Shepard managed to catch Garrus’ eye and tilt her head towards the brush. He raised one side of his brow plates at her quizzically.

“I need to use the latrine,” she said.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he said, concern in his voice.

“No, I shouldn’t,” she agreed, raising her eyebrows at him.

“I’m sure Josinae or Galen would go with you,” he reassured her. She very deliberately did not bury her face in her hands.

“You’re my partner,” she said, putting as much of a suggestive tone on the word partner as she could. He still looked confused.

“Spirits, Vakarian, just go with her, you idiot,” Kyratus snorted from his other side. “How you managed to get her into bed in the first place is an absolute mystery to the rest of us. As is why she keeps coming back for more.”

“What?” Garrus asked, glancing back and forth between the two of them. He met Shepard’s eye and she raised her brows even higher. It seemed to finally click for him what she was actually asking. “Oh. Oh.”

Shepard rolled her eyes as he finally connected the dots. Oh yeah, he was definitely socially clueless. It made a lot more sense now after what Vel had told her about his family.

“Jeez,” she muttered as they moved away from their small campsite, “I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you in front of everyone. Are you always this clueless when a girl is propositioning you?”

He was quiet for a moment as they walked side-by-side. “You know, Jane, you’re starting to make me wonder how many opportunities I’ve missed in the past because someone didn’t just come out and say it.”

“Need the direct approach?” she asked, leaning over as she walked to knock him with her shoulder.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really allowed to make friends on my own when I was younger,” he admitted. “My father works on the Citadel, and my mother is from another colony and didn’t make too many friends of her own here on Palaven. My grandmother is sort of a controlling matriarch, and my father had very strict guidelines for me and my younger sister. That’s why my mother liked to take us camping; it got us away from all that.”

She figured this was far enough and stopped, grabbing his hand to keep him from going any further and pull him closer to her. “I’ll be more direct in the future,” she promised. “So, how’s this: you know that the tents being so close at night is a real turn-off for me. I want us both to get off right here and right now. The armor might be a challenge, but I know you can be creative.”

He leaned in to brush his forehead against hers. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, then pressed his mouth against hers. She hummed in eager anticipation.

A sudden flanging scream pulled them away from each other, his arm sliding protectively around her waist as they turned towards the source.

“Was that—” he started

“Vel?” she finished.

He dropped his arm and they sprinted back towards the camp without another word, both pulling their guns off the latches on their armor. They tore through the empty campsite and kept going, Shepard trailing behind Garrus as his longer legs ate up the distance.

“I can see them,” he grunted.

They had to run another fifty meters before they stumbled upon their companions. Pylinax and Kyratus held Taris by the legs as he dangled into a hole in the ground. Shepard thought for a minute that he had fallen and that they were trying to pull him out, but a quick survey told her that there were only seven turians. Vel was missing from the group.

“Justus, grab my pack,” Taris yelled. Justus turned from his position over Kyratus’ shoulder and dashed off without hesitation.

“Shit,” Garrus hissed, “that’s a griskat pit.”

They pushed through Josinae and Vorinus to crouch at the edge of the hole. Vel’s upturned face was grim, and Shepard could hear an odd snapping noise. Taris reached down again, just at the limits of how far he could go, but his fingertips only brushed Vel’s as she jumped.

“Forget this,” Taris mumbled, then twisted behind him to say loudly, “let go. Grab her when you can.”

Kyratus and Pylinax immediately released his legs. Shepard only got out, “Taris—” before he swung his body around and slid feet first into the hole.

“Shit!” Kyratus yelped and scrambled to the mouth of the pit to look down, Pylinax joining him only half a second later.

“What are you doing?” Vel practically screeched. Taris didn’t answer, he just bent down – an awkward movement in the narrow hole – and picked her up by her legs. He straightened and heaved upwards, boosting her all the way up to stand on his shoulders. The snapping noise sounded like it was getting louder.

Kyratus and Pylinax easily grasped one of her hands each in both of theirs and pulled hard. The three flopped backwards on the ground, the sound of their breathless pants filling the air. Kyratus immediately sprung up and back to the hole, stretching out his body to reach both hands down. “Taris!” he cried.

Shepard almost couldn’t breathe herself with the panic.  “Garrus, help him,” she commanded. Even with her genetic enhancements, she didn’t have a hope in hell of dangling any of them down a hole to try to reach Taris. They’d end up with a second turian down there.

Garrus immediately dropped his sniper rifle and moved to grab one of Kyratus’ legs, and Pylinax rolled to grab the other. Vel curled up into a ball, her breathing unsteady.

“Hyllus,” Shepard said, pointing at Vel. Hyllus nodded and moved to the other turian woman’s side, murmuring softly to her.

Taris was taller than Vel and could reach higher, and Kyratus had several centimeters on her. Their fingertips did more than brush against each other, but Kyratus couldn’t quite get a grip on his hand.

“Jump, Taris,” he grunted.

Shepard turned as Justus tumbled down beside her, dropping a pack. “The tent,” she said. “Justus, find his tent fabric. It’ll be easier for him to grab than the cord.”

She turned back to the hole as Justus frantically started digging through the pack. She looked down in time to see Taris crouch for a powerful spring upwards, his hand landing solidly in Kyratus. “I’ve got you,” he cried as Taris swung his other arm up for Kyratus to secure a second grip.

Shepard felt a wave of relief wash through her. They were almost out of this mess.

The snapping sound turned into a rippling snarl as a dark blur collided with the back of Taris’ leg. He howled and thrashed. Kyratus almost lost his grip, but the steady backwards pull of Pylinax and Garrus yanked them steadily upward.

Shepard came awake to the fact that she still cradled her shotgun in her hands. The blur had resolved itself into some grotesque horror even uglier than the hoplus had been. She barely registered its shape noticing only that it had far too many eyes. She took careful aim to keep the bullet spray away from Taris in the thin tunnel and squeezed the trigger.

The thing recoiled from Taris with a screech of its own, then fell limply to the ground. She felt a savage satisfaction at that; it deserved nothing less for attacking one of her friends! Some tiny voice in the back of her head told her that it was just an animal and they’d invaded its home, but her body was too awash with adrenaline to pay attention.

Kyratus was laying out Taris with Garrus’ help. As soon as Shepard saw the blue bloody ruin that was the back of his knee – of course, the creature managed to bite down just between the armor plates into the flexible undersuit at the back of the knee joint – she slapped the casevac screamer on her wrist. If that was a griskat, it was venomous, and she didn’t know how potent the venom was. Taris was still in serious danger.

“Justus, get me his medkit, then his sleeping bag” Kyratus ordered as he started to pull off the armor plates on Taris’ leg, handing them to Garrus as he did so. The dark turian on the ground let out a muffled groan. Justus dropped the tent fabric that he’d found and dove back into the pack, coming up with the medkit just a few seconds later.

Kyratus took it with grim seriousness, but his eyes lingered on Shepard briefly before he turned back around. “I took some of the advanced combat medicine courses. I can handle this.”

Shepard had never seen him so devoid of humor before. Hyllus tried to stop her, but Vel pulled out of her grip to crawl over and take up station next to Taris’ head.

“You idiot,” she whispered, “why did you do that?”

His eyes locked with hers, his hand reaching out to her. She grabbed it tightly. “Worth it,” was all he said in a hoarse gasp. His skin was starting to turn a sickly shade of gray. Kyratus had all of the armor on his leg off and was cutting away the fabric of his undersuit. He had several things from the medkit laid out along the ground next to him.

Shepard helped Garrus gather up all the pieces of discarded armor and start repacking Taris’ pack, stuffing everything in as best they could. Once they were done, he picked his sniper rifle back up and stared at it.

“This is my fault,” he muttered. “I should have used the butt of my rifle to pull her out.”

“No,” she disagreed immediately. “You can’t use hindsight to beat yourself up over what you could have done. Hindsight’s always perfect, and we never are in the moment.”

Garrus looked troubled as he gazed over at where Kyratus continued his steady treatment of Taris. He was pressing a cloth over the wound, but the bright blue blood still pumped slowly out around it. Shepard shuddered and looked away.

“For that matter, I shouldn’t have snuck off to indulge my selfish desires with you,” she said. “We would have been a lot closer, and maybe Vel wouldn’t have come this way.”

“I should have seen the griskat tracks,” he said, glancing down at the ground. “It’s obvious over here.”

“But not where we stopped for lunch,” she said firmly.

“I should have scouted,” he said stubbornly.

“Garrus, shut up,” she said with exasperation. “Stop trying to take blame for this. It was clearly an accident.”

He jerked his head to the sky, as did half their friends. Shepard started to strain to hear the shuttle coming for the casevac that they likely could already hear. She gave up her futile effort after a moment and went to find a place for them to land. When the sounds of the shuttle finally reached her inferior human hearing, she’d taken up station at the edge of an area that looked to be clear enough of boulders for them to land. She waved her arm in the air to guide them in.

The whole back of the shuttle slid open and their medics appeared. “Do you require medical evacuation, ma’am?” one asked politely.

“No,” she replied, gesturing behind her. “But Candidate Taris jumped into a griskat pit to save Candidate Galen, and he was bitten before we could pull him out. He has a nasty wound to the back of his knee, but I’m more concerned about the venom.”

The medics wasted no time in securing a litter and trotting off in the direction of the gaggle of turians. She followed at a slower pace, the keen edge of her adrenaline starting to wear off already. She watched from the fringe of the group as they laid the litter down next to Taris and immediately began a low-voiced discussion with Kyratus. He gestured as he spoke, framing Taris’ knee with his hands as he explained what he’d already done.

By the time the medics had secured Taris to the litter and hefted him in the air, Garrus appeared at her side with another rucksack slung over his shoulder. He took it off and held it out as Kyratus walked by, trailing in the wake of the litter. Kyratus took it from him with a grateful nod as he passed by him, which Garrus returned smoothly. Justus followed behind Kyratus with Taris’ pack, his face plates closed in and mandibles tight against his jaw.

“They’re both done, aren’t they?” Shepard asked Garrus quietly as they fell in behind everyone else, miserable at the thought.

“Yes, it’s likely,” Garrus said grimly. “Griskat venom takes a while to kill you, but Taris is going to be in bad shape for a while. He’ll live, though. Medical response was almost immediate, which is what saves lives in these cases.”

“Poor Kyratus,” Shepard said. “He worked so hard to get to this point. Hell, they both did. What a waste. I hope they can come back.”

“They probably will,” Garrus reassured her. “From what I’ve been told, if you don’t wash yourself out of officer training, it’s very possible to earn a spot again. I wouldn’t doubt that Taris will be offered one for his bravery and sacrifice alone.”

“Even without a clan?” she asked. “I thought you guys don’t like turians like him.”

“You mean barefaces?” he asked gently. “It’s…well, I used to think how we treated them was normal. But then I met Taris. He changed my opinion. He’ll be offered another spot; I’m sure of it.”

He nodded firmly at her as they reached the shuttle, sure in his opinion. Shepard wished she could be as certain as he was.

Justus handed over Taris’ pack to another turian on the shuttle and they all watched Kyratus follow behind his partner. He turned to glance over his shoulder at their morose faces. His mandibles flared briefly in a grin at them. “It’s been fun, everyone. Come visit us at the hospital. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

“I should come with you,” Vel said.

“Nah, we’ll be fine. Finish the course,” Kyratus said. “You deserve to be an officer, Vel. Taris wouldn’t forgive me if I let you give that up.”

“Nor would I,” a cool voice said over Kyratus’ shoulder. Captain Kryik emerged from the shadows of the shuttle. “Finish your assignment.”

For a moment, Shepard thought Vel was going to argue, but her fingers curled into trembling fists and she finally nodded. “Yes, sir,” she ground out through clenched mandibles.

The eight remaining officer candidates backed away from the shuttle as the door started to close. “Break some spurs for us at the Forge!” Kyratus cried over the whine of the engines just before the slammed shut.

Shepard felt a determination slip over her to do just that as the shuttle disappeared into the sky. They were down two of their inner circle, but they’d do it in honor of the ones so abruptly torn away from their fellowship.

Everyone moved back to their little clearing after the shuttle disappeared except Vel. She stayed staring at the horizon until Hyllus brought her rucksack over when everyone was ready to leave.

“We have to finish. For them,” Shepard quietly murmured to her, her voice as soft as she could make it. “You know it’s what Taris would want. You can feel guilt later, but for now, do it for him. Don’t give up on the chance he gave you.”

Vel didn’t say anything. She just shouldered her pack and fell into line behind them. They completed the land nav course several hours later, the hushed silence of their group a harsh contrast to the camaraderie of before.

----<>----

Captain Kryik personally escorted them to visit Taris in the hospital wing the next day. All eight of them followed behind him, not even daring to whisper to each other. Shepard shared a look with Garrus and let her hand brush across the back of his as they walked. One of his mandibles flared reassuringly at her – she wasn’t sure when reading his face had become so natural, but it certainly was now – and she nodded back.

Kryik gestured them into a sterile hospital room where they found Taris lying on a bed, Kyratus leaping up out of the chair next to it at their entrance.

“Getting lazy, eh, Taris?” Pylinax teased.

“Figures Kyratus would let you just sleep all day,” Josinae added.

Even without being able to catch their subvocals, Shepard could still hear the genuine affection and playfulness in both of their voices. Taris raised a hand weakly in response before it dropped back down to the covers.

“You know him,” he rasped.

“Yes,” Garrus chimed in, “he’s always struck me as someone ready to spend all day in bed.”

“With someone, my dear Vakarian! With someone!” Kyratus cried in mock protest, one hand splaying over his keel. “Spending the day in bed is an absolute waste without having someone fun with which to share it. You should know that.”

He leered suggestively at Shepard for a brief moment and they all laughed, even Garrus. She grinned at both Garrus’ willingness to join the banter and Kyratus’ own response. Despite the dire circumstances, the group still had the same dynamics, and she was pleased to see Garrus fitting himself more easily into them.

They settled into quieter conversation after that, but Kyratus only gave them a few minutes before he started herding everyone out of the room. “Not you, dear,” he said, waving at Vel. “I just need to talk to everyone else. Out in the hall.”

Shepard glanced down at Taris, but he had eyes only for Vel. Well, this was clearly orchestrated. She let herself be herded along without protest, putting in a few words of support here and there to speed up the process.

“What are you doing?” Josinae asked Kyratus when they were into the hall and he’d pushed the button for the door to shut behind them.

“Oh, Taris just has a couple things he needs to say,” Kyratus said, his mandibles flaring in a mysterious smile.

Captain Kryik was waiting for them, and he gathered them all in through the sheer force of the imperiousness of his steely green gaze. “All done, candidates?” he asked.

“All except one, sir,” Kyratus confirmed.

“Excellent. One of you may remain to wait for Candidate Galen,” Kryik said. “I will escort the rest of you miscreants back to your quarters.”

Shepard’s gaze swung automatically to Hyllus; as Vel’s partner, that should be her duty by right. Instead, she nodded at Shepard and held out a hand with her palm facing Shepard. “You can do it, Shepard,” she said. “I think you’ll be better for her.”

“All right,” Shepard acknowledged, temporarily mystified by the deference. That confusion was quickly lost as she contemplated the weird currents swirling around her. Kryik had known that Vel would remain in the room while the rest of them left. She watched their commander exchange nods with Kyratus before he led everyone else away. Only Garrus looked over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he tore himself away to follow the rest.

Kyratus and Taris had obviously worked out beforehand that Kyratus would maneuver the rest of them to get Taris alone with Vel. That was absolutely not a surprise, given how Taris and Vel had been dancing around each other for weeks. What was truly odd was that Captain Kryik would be involved in their scheming. He was obviously in on whatever Kyratus was doing.

She turned and glared at Kyratus from under the ridges of her eye sockets. She hoped it approximated the way a turian could bunch their brow plates down over their eyes to appear threatening. It seemed to work; the normally voluble turian shifted on his feet and fixed his eyes on the floor. “What is going on?” she hissed at him.

“I already said!” Kyratus protested. “Taris had some things he needs to say. We’re just giving him the space to do that.”

“‘We’ as in you and Captain Kryik?” she asked pointedly. Kyratus held up both hands palm out at her.

“Look, I’m just doing what my commander thinks is best,” he said.

“Oh, so you expect me to believe this was Kryik’s idea?!” Shepard asked incredulously.

It took precisely zero force for Kyratus to break. “Well, yeah! He said it was obvious the two of them needed to talk it out, and that I should try to give them the space to be alone for it. It’s the only reason he let any of you over here! Normally, we’d just disappear, and you might be lucky enough to run into us again one day in the service.”

“Turians!” Shepard swore, throwing her hands in the air.

“Can’t live with us, can’t live without us,” Kyratus said breezily. “Just ask the volus.”

“Kyratus, I don’t have time right now to examine the inner workings of the socio-political relationship of your species with its client races,” she said, propping her hands on her hips in annoyance.

“Big words, Shepard,” he mocked. It wasn’t mean; just his normal level of irreverence that she’d come to appreciate.

“You wouldn’t last half a day at the Naval Academy, Kyratus,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“Probably not,” he agreed easily. “I hear humans aren’t so lax with their forms of relaxation.”

“No, we certainly aren’t.”

“Although, you certainly seemed to adapt just fine.” His leer this time didn’t have the safety of Garrus at her shoulder, and she took an almost unconscious half-step back at the sight of his teeth.

“If I’d truly adapted, I would have fucked more than one person. Can’t say that I find that very appealing,” she returned. Thankfully, he seemed to realize he’d made her uncomfortable and raised his hands in a fending-off gesture again.

“That’s fine, Shepard,” he said. “Still wish you’d given me a chance, but I can understand why you didn’t. Vakarian is quite handsome. Don’t know what you see in him, but he has that going for him. Hope you aren’t thinking long-term, though. That clan would eat you alive.”

“What is it with everyone thinking I’m trying to marry the guy?” she asked, more frustration than she wanted leaking into her voice. “I thought turians were all about casual sex?”

“Well, yeah,” Kyratus said. “It just usually isn’t with one person exclusively.”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to stave off the turian-induced headache. “Kyratus. My dear friend. For humans, that’s perfectly normal.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down at his hands. “I guess that explains that.”

“Explains what?”

“You know, the exclusivity. I thought you just didn’t…”

“Didn’t what, Kyratus?” She was trying very hard not to be frustrated with him. This had all been just as much of a mystery to her three months ago. Hell, it still was.

“Didn’t find me attractive.”

Shepard blew out her breath in an even blow. She dropped her hand from her face so she could look at him directly. “Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I value our friendship, and I genuinely mean that. Yes, I realize that I have come to find turians sort of appealing in an artistic way. You’re different from humans, but I can appreciate how you’re put together. I like how you look, Kyratus, but I could never be intimate with you. You would fuck everything that moves, and I’m just not into that.”

Kyratus shuffled on his feet for a moment before crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall to look at her. She would have sworn his look was amused.

“So, you weren’t just covering your scutes?” he asked.

She was really going to have to catalog these turian idioms for the next guy on this short tour, because they had some baffling ones. “You’re going to have to rephrase that one,” she said.

“You weren’t lying,” he said, “when you excused my interest before. About it being you and not me.”

“No,” she said hesitantly. She might be better friends now with him, but she still didn’t want to get into all the complicated reasons she was the way she was.

“There’s more to that,” he said confidently.

“Yes,” she agreed, “but it’s deeply personal, and absolutely none of your business.”

He regarded her for a moment, his light blue eyes seeming to weigh her. She really would have found him quite attractive if he didn’t seem to chase anything with the legs to run away. And there was Garrus, but best not to dwell on that.

“That’s fair enough, Shepard,” he finally said. “And I won’t push you on it. Not that I’d have the chance.”

She smiled at him, but didn’t get a chance to express her appreciation because the door to the hospital room slid open and Vel practically stalked out. She blew past both Kyratus and Shepard without looking at either of them. Shepard shared one brief look with Kyratus and got out a quick, “It’s been great getting to know you. Farewell, Kyratus,” before she had to dash off behind Vel.

Shit, she wished she’d been able to do that better. She followed in Vel’s wake like a ship chasing the waves of a furious storm. The woman aggressively strode her way down the hallway, making a turn here and there that Shepard was surprised she could even remember.

Vel stopped abruptly, turning to stab one finger in Shepard’s direction.

“I’m going to bond that stupid man if it’s the last thing I do,” Vel stuttered angrily. Shepard had never heard that flustered tone out of a turian, so she kept quiet. “The nerve of him! Insisting that he’s not good enough! As if leaping into a spirits-forsaken griskat pit to save my sorry hide is worth nothing! Spirits, my parents are going to beg him to join our clan when I’m done telling them what happened.”

Shepard knew better by now than to try to get in a female turian’s way when it came to this sort of thing. Garrus occasionally made near-inaudible comments that left her wondering exactly how the practicalities of all this worked for them, given that they seemed like a patriarchal society. But based on Vel’s words, she had a goal and she expected that nothing would stop her. The turian woman growled wordlessly and spun to stalk off again.

Shepard couldn’t help the broad smile that split her face. Taris had clearly messed up his alone time with her, but he had no idea what determined force was about to hit him. She'd bet good credits that he'd be bonded by the end of the year.

Chapter Text

Shepard had no idea where they were headed for the Forge, but Garrus seemed quietly nervous. He kept staring at the wall of the transport ship and jiggling his leg. She had never seen him do that before and felt a moment of concern. He was pretty much guaranteed to move forward at this point, so she didn’t understand why he was so anxious. He wouldn’t tell her why, either; he just mutely shook his head any time she asked if he was okay.

Shepard could barely focus on him, though; she was too busy being thrilled to have her biotic amp back. The power and certainty of it flooded her limbs, making her shiver in excitement. She could finally show these guys what an offensive biotic soldier looked like! She spied Justus across the hold. His eyes were closed, but his mandibles were spread in a soft turian smile. She knew he must feel like she did right now. Having her amp taken away had felt like she was missing a limb. Having it back felt like she was complete again, its familiar warmth vibrating in waves through her body. She couldn’t wait to show him a few tricks. Maybe convince at least one turian that biotic turian Vanguards were a viable option.

The unmistakable shift of their shuttle breaking from its high-altitude flight rocked her in her seat. Their descent seemed to go normally for a few moments before the shuttle shuddered again. The shuttering continued, making her sway in her seat. She glanced around, seeking the faces of her friends; Justus looked concerned now, Josinae looked like she was going to be sick, and Garrus next to her had his eyes squeezed shut. Did turians get airsick? She didn’t think that would be a thing with them having gizzards.

“Brace for a rough landing,” a voice came over the intercom. Despite the distortion, she recognized Captain Kryik’s calm, steady tones. “There’s a bad winter storm over the field location.”

“Great,” Garrus practically moaned.

Shepard glanced at him. “Palaven gets snow?” she asked.

“What? No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen snow on other planets, and Palaven doesn’t get like that. A winter storm here is rain, but it’s freezing cold. This training ground is at the south pole. You’ve only experienced the climate of Camp Firinax, which is near Cipritine on the equator. It might be hot there, but it’s consistent. It’s winter in the Southern Hemisphere right now. This is about to be very unpleasant.”

“As long as it’s above freezing, it can’t be too bad. I didn’t think any place on this planet could get below freezing,” she said.

“It can at the poles,” he said, “but only in their respective deep winters. We aren’t there yet for the South Pole, but it’s close enough that it might happen. This might be a very short field exercise.”

“Why?” she asked curiously.

“This armor isn’t meant for cold weather. They want to see how well we do without the crutch.”

“What do you mean, the crutch?! They’re happy to see you freeze to death in the name of officer assessment?” she asked, flabbergasted by the idea. Just when she thought she had a handle on how turians did things, she hit some other crazy wall that sent her reeling in a different direction.

“You know they monitor our vitals. The casevac would come before that could happen,” he reassured her. He still seemed nervous, though, as their ship rocked through its descent.

Captain Kryik appeared at the front of the hold as they landed.

“You will be dropped off at different points around the course,” Kryik announced. “Your objective is to survive for two weeks. You know where your casevac request communications screamer is. Your vitals will be monitored, and we will evacuate you if you are unable to activate it. The entire area is ringed by mountains; do not leave it. Do not attempt to disable your armor sensors. If you do either, you will not make it to the rest of officer training.”

He tapped the shoulders of the first two turians and pointed towards the door. They rose and exited, and he pushed a button on his omnitool. A bitter-cold icy wind tore through the cabin for a brief moment before the door slid closed again. It was dark outside, and Shepard hadn’t been able to glimpse anything through the door. The shuttle flew for a minute before landing again to drop off the next two.

Justus and Josinae were next, and Justus nodded at Shepard before they stepped out the door. There went Feris and Elanis, then Artcus and his partner. Hyllus and Vel were a couple sets of partners later, and they both looked at Shepard before leaving.

“See you in the northwest corner,” Vorinus muttered as she and Pylinax got up to leave. The word had been spread throughout the whole cohort, and anyone that wanted to team up would make their way there. They had no idea what the terrain would look like, so the only way to rendezvous with everyone was to pick a cardinal direction and meet at the farthest point. Her friends reported that everyone seemed eager to do so, and Shepard was hopeful about their chances.

Shepard and Garrus were soon the only partner pair left. They stood at Kryik’s gesture and moved to the exit. He blocked their way for a moment, his green eyes assessing them both.

“I haven’t been this pleasantly surprised in a very long time,” he finally said. “Though, this storm is an unfortunate complication. I recommend you find a place to shelter before you do anything else. I would hate to see you waste this chance to show what your combination of talents can do.”

“Yes, sir,” Shepard said. She felt herself bouncing on her toes just a little bit, eager to be out the door.

“Sir?” Garrus said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Make it quick, Vakarian.”

“Why did you choose to pair us together? Shepard would have been much better off with someone else as her partner.”

“What?” she interrupted, tearing her eyes away from the beckoning door to face him. “No, I wouldn’t!”

“You would’ve been better off with someone less resentful,” he insisted. “I nearly got us both kicked out because of how stupid I was being.”

“We were both plenty stupid, Garrus,” she admonished. “We both got over it.”

“And that’s exactly why,” Captain Kryik said, folding his arms over his chest. “We don’t pair people who will get along. We pair people who won’t so we can see how they do. As I said, I’m pleasantly surprised you two became such good partners. I thought your tactical skills would be particularly suited to each other’s, but I didn’t think you’d end up getting along so well.”

Shepard tried not to blush as memories of exactly how they’d become good partners rushed to the forefront of her thoughts. She failed miserably and busied herself with her helmet to hide it, fiddling with the earpiece inside. She and Garrus were synced on a comms channel and couldn’t change it, but she could still adjust the seating of the tiny speaker to distract herself.

“We’re partners,” Garrus said quietly. She had to smile at the firmness in his voice. “It took me a while, but I realized that means something.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and she flashed her grin at him. His mandibles flared back at her before he slid his helmet on and covered his face. She did the same.

“Ready?” she asked him.

“Ready.”

“Let’s get it, big guy!” she cried and leapt through the door. He was hot on her heels as they dashed away from the shuttle to give it space to take off again. It quickly disappeared into the night, and that’s when Shepard realized how hard it was raining.

“Spirits,” she heard Garrus’ voice moan in her earpiece. “This is freezing.”

She was sure her armor was much better suited for this than his if he had no insulation. Kryik was right: they needed to find shelter quickly. She took a quick scan with her omnitool and found there were rocks to their immediate left. According to her compass, that was west. Dark shapes seemed to billow around them, almost like—

“Garrus, are these trees?!” she asked. She hadn’t seen any vegetation taller than a turian since she got here.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The axial tilt of Palaven is less extreme than Earth, so our season shift isn’t as severe. Still, there are long stretches of very little direct sunlight during the winter months, so the vegetation at the poles has evolved a little differently than along the equator.”

A fork of lightning stabbed the ground less than a kilometer away, briefly lighting the landscape around them. They were on an elevated patch of ground, so she caught a momentary sight of a large valley slopping away from them. The shattering sound of thunder from the first strike reached them just as another illuminated the valley again. There seemed to be high mountains ringing the whole thing. They were at the westernmost point before the mountains on this side, and they rose sharply above them.

“C’mon, Garrus, we have to find shelter,” she said, starting to walk north. “Do you think there are any caves in these mountains?”

“I’m sure there are,” he replied, following her.

“Then let’s try to find one and wait out this storm,” she suggested.

“Sounds good to me. I’m…Jane, I’m not going to last long in this,” he confessed. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see a full-body shudder wrack his frame. Shit. This was worse than she thought it would be.

And if he was already struggling, that meant everyone else probably was, too. They’d been the last ones out of the shuttle, and she wondered pessimistically if anyone else had already tapped out yet. She had to get him to shelter as soon as possible.

“We’ll run for a bit,” she ordered. “That’ll warm you up.”

She picked up a light trot, her rucksack bouncing against the shotgun strapped to her lower back. She couldn’t hear him over the rain that hammered against her armor, but she knew without question that he’d taken up the same pace behind her.

They ran along the slope for fifteen minutes, her omnitool on constant scan mode for any sign of a cave. She angled their path to carry them up into the mountains as the terrain allowed, the periodic flashes of lightning guiding her steps. Garrus’ breathing was growing heavy in her earpiece.

“Jane, I—”

She turned around in time to see his stride falter and he tumbled to the ground. She darted back to his side and pushed herself under one of his arms. “Come on, Garrus, we don’t quit here.”

Not good not good not good, chanted some panicked voice in her mind. She shoved it away ruthlessly. No time for doubts and no space for failure. She let her biotics flare to add to her strength as she hoisted him up.

“I should casevac,” he groaned. “You can stay without me.”

“You think I’m letting you run away?” she chided as she hauled him forward. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m doing this without you, Garrus Vakarian. Now, move.”

They stumbled forward together, his body shivering so hard against her that she could feel it through her armor. The panicked voice sang a refrain of fuck fuck fuck in her head.

She resolutely pulled him tighter against her side and refused to contemplate the screamer button that was recessed in his armor. It was just beyond her fingers wrapped around his left wrist. It would be so easy to slide her first finger over an inch and press it.

No, he’d make it. They would get through this. His labored breathing in her ear was torture, his gasps stabbing at her conscience. Was she going to accidentally kill him by being stubborn about not quitting?

“Garrus,” she said softly, “if you need to tap out, there’s no shame in it. I’ll go with you. We’re partners, remember?”

“Not letting you…fail…because I…can’t hack it,” he said breathlessly.

“And I’m not letting you die because of pride,” she snapped at him. “Not from rain.”

“Won’t die,” he grunted. “Casevac’d come first. Can keep going.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she growled.

“M’not,” he slurred.

The faint vibration of her omnitool stopped her from replying, and she halted their forward progress to check it.

“Yes!” she yelled. It had registered a cave of some sort! Even if it was shallow, anything would be better than continuing to flounder through this mess. “Got shelter, Garrus. This way.”

She turned them upslope and they started their slow trudge up the incline. His wheezing gasps got quieter and quieter.

“Fuck this,” she muttered. “You are not falling on my watch.”

She let go of his waist but not his wrist and let her biotics flare to their maximum flow. She squatted down to thread her free arm between his legs, firmly seating her shoulder into his gut. She knew he was in bad shape because he didn’t even protest as she pulled down on his wrist and stood up with him draped over her shoulders.

One foot in front of the other, each step feeling heavier than the last. Don’t quit, Shepard, she told herself. Don’t quit. Don’t quit.

Her biotics were the only reason she made it up the hill in full kit with an adult turian – also in full kit – slung over her shoulders. It felt so damn good to have them back, the quiet reassurance of power humming deep in her bones. She realized it wasn’t all that dissimilar to how comforting Garrus’ subvocals felt when they vibrated against her.

“No wonder I like snuggling with you so much,” she said aloud. He didn’t respond, and worry throbbed in her stomach.

She almost missed the entrance to the cave until a flare of lightning behind her highlighted the blackness lurking beyond a few trees growing against a cliff. The pounding of the rain against her armor stopped abruptly as she crossed its threshold. She paused to set Garrus down out of the rain so she could run a quick survey of where they’d found themselves. Wouldn’t do if they set up camp just to find themselves in the lair of something worse than a griskat.

An unintelligible mumble from him over their comm channel gave her a moment of reassurance that he was still somewhat conscious and with her. It was disorienting to feel just fine and have him in such a rapid freefall from simple cold in front of her.

“I’m just going to scout the cave,” she said, pushing as much reassurance as possible into her voice as she moved away from him. She pulled her shotgun from her belt and flipped the light on to illuminate their surroundings.

The cave wasn’t very deep, but that was actually a relief; she didn’t want any unexplored angles from which things could surprise them. It went for maybe twenty meters and was only a few meters wide, but quite tall. The ceiling sloped upward from the cave mouth to a height of at least ten meters by the end. They could shelter back here.

She slung her pack off her shoulder and left it on the ground, propping her shotgun on it for illumination. She hurried back to where she’d left Garrus and found him slumped over. She quickly picked him up again and carried him to the back of the cave, setting him down as gently as she could. She stripped off his pack and sniper rifle and set them aside.

“Garrus?” she said quietly. “Garrus, I found us some shelter. I’m going to get you out of this armor, okay? But I have to set up our sleeping bags first.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did sort of exhale with a flanging heaviness that might have been an attempt at a groan. Hopefully, he’d be okay while she got everything laid out. She stripped out of her own armor as quickly as possible, flinging the pieces aside and not bothering with her usual careful order. The biting cold finally registered on her skin. Shit, no wonder he was in such bad shape. She knew humans could tolerate a lot colder temperatures than turians could, but this was miserably frigid. She was surprised he’d lasted this long in armor that had no insulation.

She pulled her own sleeping bag out and unzipped it all the way so she could lay it out flat with the soft inner side up and the protective outside against the cold, rocky ground. That done, she turned back to Garrus and started undoing his armor straps. She’d seen him get in and out of enough times to have a good idea of how it was done, though her fingers trembled on the latches in the cold. His armor pile was just as haphazard as hers by the time she finished.

Moving behind him, she threaded her arms under his and around his chest to heave him up and over onto her sleeping bag but abruptly stopped. His underlayer was dripping wet! So much so that it almost instantly soaked through the chest and inner arms of her own underlayer. Damn, the question wasn’t why had he gotten so bad so quickly; it was how had he lasted as long as he had?

“Shit, I didn’t realize,” she groaned. “Sorry, Garrus.”

She found the zippered closure on his front and peeled him out of the wet, cold fabric as quickly as she could, careful of his protruding spurs, before repeating the process on herself. She laid both sets of underlayers out on top of their respective piles of armor. They should dry overnight, though she hoped the air temperature wasn’t cold enough to just freeze them instead.

That finished, she slipped around to his back again to get him to the sleeping bag, leveraging him into place as gently as she could, doing her best to arrange him comfortably. She dug into his pack to find his sleeping bag and unzipped it as she had done her own, except she laid it on top of hers so that the inner side covered Garrus. She grabbed her shotgun and laid it down beside the sleeping bag, leaving the light still on so she could see.

“All right, big guy,” she said, crawling under the cover next to him, “let me show you what else biotics can do.”

She wrapped herself around him and let her biotics flare again, the vibrating warmth immediately burning away the cold. His subvocals were unsteady and high-pitched, almost thready. He mumbled something again and she pulled his face into her neck. Gods, the plates of his face felt like a sheet of ice against her skin.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Tha’s nice,” he slurred against her. “Warm.”

“Yeah, we don’t need a fire when we have me,” she agreed.

“M’own pers’nal heater,” he said. She felt him struggle to raise his arm from between their bodies, and she rolled back a bit to help him. He draped it over her waist, curling his hand around her back. She found herself crushed against him with force, the three fingers on her back splayed wide.

“Yes, I’m all yours, Garrus,” she said soothingly, rubbing her hand along his waist. His hide was almost cool to the touch everywhere they pressed together, but it provided the steady comfort of his closeness.

The hand on her back slowly skimmed higher until it tangled in the tendrils of her hair. She had to smile at that; Garrus tried to hide it, but he was captivated by her hair. She’d stripped his gloves off along with everything else, and his talons felt good as they brushed against her scalp. She hummed lightly in pleasure, and she felt his mandibles flick against her throat.

His subvocals steadied out, the initial franticness she felt soothing into a deeper, reassuring rumble. Combined with the thrum of her biotics, she felt herself almost instantly lulled into sleep. She resisted the temptation; she didn’t want to fall asleep until she knew he was going to be okay.

“How are we doing, big guy?” she asked. She kept up the motion of her hand, stroking his waist with firm movements. The friction wouldn’t help as much as her biotics, but she hoped it was a calming sensation for him.

“Mmm’okay,” he said. “Prolly gonna sleep now. Be fine.”

“You’ve earned it,” she assured him. They were going to have to be very careful for the next two weeks. If it so much as looked like a five percent chance of rain, they’d have to shelter. She wasn’t risking this happening again.

“Than’s, Shep,” he mumbled. The hand in her hair relaxed and she felt him become a dead weight in her arms as he slipped into sleep, his breath against her neck taking up a deep hum that was becoming dearly familiar. She smiled and pressed an affectionate kiss onto his brow plate.

“Any time, Garrus,” she whispered. She’d stay awake to make sure her biotics kept up until he was nice and toasty; their bodies could take over the work after that.

At least, she meant to stay awake. She tried, she really did. She could close her eyes while she waited her time out. She wouldn’t fall asleep.

She didn’t remember anything after that.

----<>----

Garrus blinked himself awake, his thoughts feeling sluggish and unresponsive. He tried to move his arms, but one was trapped and the other reacted as if it were stuck under water, moving slowly and feeling as though it was trying to push the weight of a shuttle. His fingers caught in silky hair, which was the point that he realized he must be tangled up with Jane. Were they in their bunk? His back was certainly screaming in a way that said he hadn’t slept on a mattress.

There was light above his head, and he craned his neck to look at it. Oh, Jane’s shotgun. It was laying propped up on a rock, illuminating the small area around them. Jane was softly snoring with her arms wrapped around him. His subvocals pitched up happily at the sight; he’d decided weeks ago that she was quite beautiful, even if she only resembled a turian woman in the vaguest of ways. The light wasn’t at the right angle to see all the details her face, but he could imagine the dusting of discoloration across her nose and cheeks – freckles, she’d called them – that fascinated him. She had them other places on her body, and he enjoyed mapping them all.

He managed to tear his gaze away from the dim outlines of her face to look around. Rocky walls, sleeping bags, rucksacks, piles of armor, and a dirt floor told him they were in a cave. He dimly recalled something about a cave, so that made sense. He didn’t remember walking into one, but he sort of remembered being in one. How had he even gotten here? He glanced back at the slumbering Jane. Obviously, he’d come here with her. They must be out on a training task of some sort.

What was the last thing he remembered getting ready for? They were alone in their cave, so they weren’t working with a team. Hadn’t they been getting packed for the Forge, and hadn’t they planned on working with everyone? He was sure he had just had a conversation with Feris about it. Feris and Elanis were eager about the idea.

Everything after that all came back to him in a rush: being on the shuttle to the south pole knowing they were heading into winter, dreading it, being ashamed of telling Jane how much he dreaded the cold. He shivered and clutched himself harder against her. She let out a sort of squeaking noise and startled awake.

“Crap, sorry,” he mumbled.

“Garrus?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he soothed. More memories were starting to filter back. He remembered talking to Captain Kryik before getting off the shuttle. He remembered the seeping wetness as soon as they’d disembarked and feeling pierced through by the accompanying cold. He vaguely recalled running in Jane’s shadow for a bit, his limbs slowly freezing. His memories got hazy after that. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. Just glad you’re doing better,” she said, snuggling into him. She was at just the right angle for his face to fit into the curve of her neck, and she pulled him into it tightly. He felt a strange pulse of heat through his whole body.

“What happened?” he asked. “What is that?”

“You tried to die from the rain,” she said. “And that’s my biotics. Warmed you back up.”

Biotics…biotics could do that?! He’d never even thought about it before. He hadn’t really considered much of anything about biotics. He hadn’t exactly internalized any of his grandmother’s regular screeds about the unnaturalness of those with biotic skills, but her rants had always discouraged questions about them.

“You saved my life,” he said with wonder.

“Naw,” she muttered, her chin working against the top of his head as she spoke. “You said that earlier, too. Last night? Dunno. Anyway, they would have casevac’d you if you were in real danger. All I saved was your score. Couldn’t let you tap out in the first thirty minutes of being on ground, could I?”

He clutched her just a bit tighter. Spirits, she was something else.

“Oof, little tight, big guy,” she said, patting one side of his cowl. He let up again, but didn’t release her. He felt her messing with her omnitool and its light flashed beside his head. “We’ve been asleep for six hours. Want to sleep some more, or get to scouting?”

“Depends on if the rain has stopped. We’ll only get a few hours of daylight every day, but we can scout during the night as long as it isn’t raining.”

“Yes, I’m going to write that down, by the way: never get your turian wet after dark,” she said, amusement playing through her voice.

“And I’ll write this down: always keep your human biotic around as a heat source,” he growled back.

“Oh, any biotic will do,” she teased.

“I’m not very likely to want to snuggle with a turian biotic.”

“Asari?”

He pretended to shudder against her. “Spirits, no. Have you seen all that blue?”

“I hear some turians are attracted to that.”

“Not this turian. I much prefer pale skin and—” he reached up to stroke a light finger over the bridge of her nose “—freckles.”

He felt the pressure of her lips against his brow plate before she answered. “Some asari seem to have freckles.”

“But not the pale skin,” he pointed out. “I’m a very particular turian. I know what I like.”

“Are you now?” she asked. She sounded a little breathless. He pulled his face away from her neck so he could look at her.

“Oh, yes,” he said softly. He deliberately dropped his voice half an octave and growled with an extra flange. “And I know there are other ways to generate body heat under the covers than just using biotics.”

“Mmm, you’ll have to show me. I’m really only familiar with the biotic survival methods.”

“Gladly.”

Chapter Text

They finally rolled out of their temporary shelter several hours later after a vigorous session of generating body heat the old-fashioned way and a refreshing nap. The rain had stopped, and they found much better shelter in the northwest corner of the valley after a few hours of trudging through twisty hills and up one mountain pass that looked like it led out of the valley. Their new cave was much larger than a simple tunnel in the rock, and they set up their small camp quickly, Garrus unpacking their supplies while Shepard explored the limits of their new home.

The cave itself was much deeper and wider than their previous one, with jagged stalactites and stalagmites dotting the edges. It had plenty of space for anyone else that showed up.  (“I don’t think anyone else made it,” Garrus had told her, but she stubbornly refused to listen.)

There was a hole in the back that led deeper into a larger system of caves, but the cool air that wafted out had a hint of dankness to it that probably would have repelled any animals. Shepard flipped on her light to explore a bit farther and soon found herself walking through an inch of slimy running water. It ran down the slope away from her, so she wasn’t concerned about it leaking into their area. She shone her light up to her right where the water came from and was pleased to find a fresh spring near where the roof sloped to meet the floor.

What a lucky find! They could hole up in here for as long as they needed to. As long as the senior cohort didn’t stumble across the cave, they could practically just sit here for the whole two weeks if they wanted.

Not that she or Garrus would want that; they were both far too competitive to be happy with hiding for the duration of the Forge.

As soon as she was done exploring, she got to laying out the sleeping bags. Garrus had set up their small field lamps as he methodically unpacked both bags, so she could see without the flashlight mounted on her shotgun. There was a nice, raised shelf of rock just around a turn from the entrance that would do nicely as a bed. She spread her sleeping bag out and arranged it over the surface. She felt something soft hit the back of her head as she leaned over to grab Garrus’ sleeping bag. She turned to see what it was and something else caught her full in the face.

“The hell?” she sputtered as Garrus laughed in her face.

“Thought we might want those,” he said, pointing to the two rapidly decompressing pillows on the floor.

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize you’d packed them.”

He gave her a shrug – the motion seemed to come easier to him now – and said, “They compact really well. I just shoved them to the bottom of my bag and piled everything in on top. I figured we’d want a bit of comfort.”

Not much comfort to be found on rocks, but they would do; she still had an ache in her neck from sleeping awkwardly in their first cave the night before.

They slept again before doing any more exploring and found the next morning that their trail through the mountains split about another kilometer on; one path continued to lead up through the mountains while the other twisted back down towards the valley. Shepard catalogued it as good escape route should they need it. Garrus was able to survey almost the entire valley from their elevation through his sniper rifle scope. Though it had limited functionality, he had tied into his visor – she knew it! – and he was able to map out elevation and vegetation for just about everything in sight, which included the well-laid-out compound a few kilometers away at the northern-most point of the valley.

When none of their cohort appeared after the day and a half of being on ground, even Shepard’s relentless optimism had to give way in the face of facts: they were likely the only ones left. She hoped everyone was all right; she’d made some good friends here, and she hated to think of any of them laid up in the hospital the way Taris had been. She could have used the Vel and Josinae’s emotional support or Pylinax and Vorinus’ scouting. Hell, even Kyratus’ sense of humor would have been welcome, and she was going to regret not being able to show Justus how much difference a biotic could make to the battlefield when they weren’t stuck making barriers.

After deciding that no one else was coming, she and Garrus got to work. It was almost comical how easily they set their first ambush. The draw leading down from the senior cohort’s compound through the dead center of the valley was the obvious path for anyone going out to do an initial survey. Its mild downward slope welcomed scout teams with the lure of gentle terrain and a path free of looming vegetation.

The only tricky part was figuring out just the right spot. They had to be far enough away that immediate support wouldn’t rush out from the compound, but close enough that the bulk of the scouting force would still be together before they split out. Shepard and Garrus settled on a spot almost a full kilometer down the trickling creek. He found a good vantage point in a tree several hundred meters away with perfect visibility to the creek bed, while she had a natural outcropping of metallic Palaveni rock that gave her the advantages of raised elevation and shelter from incoming small arms fire.

It was in the limited hours of daylight when a group of seniors appeared and they were finally able to spring their trap. “Got the lead scout,” a voice whispered in her ear before a sniper round took them out, and she popped up to shoot the one just behind them. Both crumpled to the ground before the string of turians behind them could react. The heat of adrenaline surged through Shepard’s veins, and she couldn’t help winding up for a biotic charge into the next one. She wasn’t too sure about the safety of the simunitions at this range, so she charged up a biotic punch and knocked them to the ground.

She backed up as several more came rushing in with assault rifles blasting. She threw up a biotic barrier before anything could hit her. One fell to a sniper round, another to a second biotic charge.

It took Shepard a moment to realize that all she could hear over their comm channel was gasps of laughter. “Garrus, what the hell? Are you okay?!”

It took a moment for the laughter to subside enough for him to reply. “Spirits, Jane, you should see their faces,” he wheezed, his flanging making it sound worse.

“I…can? They aren’t wearing helmets – the idiots – and I’m right here,” she said slowly, confused. She deflected another punch from the last turian in her immediate area and slammed her biotically charged fist into their chest. His chest, she corrected herself as a detached part of her brain noted the long fringe. Her blow launched the turian several meters to land on the hard ground. He didn’t get up, his locked armor sparking furiously. “What’s so funny?”

“And you don’t find it hilarious? They have no idea what to make of you!” Despite his continued laughter, another shot from his sniper rifle whizzed over her shoulder to hit a turian on her blind side that she hadn’t seen. Shit, she could get used to this; his ranged support in live combat was everything she’d ever dreamed it could be. “They are completely baffled, and it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Spirits, I’m going to treasure this memory for the rest of my life! I was laughing so hard that I almost fell out of my tree.”

“Lucky for me you didn’t fall,” she noted, but her words were warm with affection and not heated with sarcasm like she’d intended. He seemed to hear the difference.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and another round from his rifle zipped over her head to hit a turian hiding in the scrub brush twenty meters away. It was thicker than what she was used to up north. “Another one coming at your back,” he warned. He’d probably overloaded his rifle with that last shot, or he would have hit the turian closing in on her himself.

She grinned and readied a shockwave, spinning to target and unleash it. The turian rushing her squawked in an extremely undignified fashion as they – she, Shepard noted – found herself tossed unexpectedly above the ground for a moment. Then another simunition sniper bullet intersected her and she flopped to the ground, her armor locking around her.

Shepard and Garrus ended the encounter at five “kills” apiece. She surveyed the destruction they’d wrought and chuckled. The guy she’d hit in the chest was moaning softly, his eyes blinking rapidly in their deep sockets. “Atticus is going to kill me,” he said so quietly she almost couldn’t hear it. She wondered who “Atticus” was. Maybe this guy’s partner?

“What’s so funny now?” she heard Garrus ask her over the comm.

“This is going to be quite a casualty report. Some of them look genuinely concussed; I bet they their wear helmets from now on,” she said, satisfaction oozing through.

“Too bad,” he said, “it was quite a show for me. Now come on; let’s get out of here before the casevac ships show up and give away our location.”

Shepard stripped several field packs off the closest turians and slung them over her should with the straps crossed every which way across her body. Supplies were always good, no matter what they held, and she could haul an awful lot with the familiar energy of her biotics humming through her body.

She latched her shotgun to her belt and surveyed the other weapons on the ground. She scooped up a pistol and a submachine gun, fastening the pistol onto her belt. She did a quick check on the SMG as she trotted off to meet Garrus at their rendezvous point, firing a single burst shot at the ground to make sure it worked. She knew he’d stay on overwatch until she’d cleared the area and that she probably didn’t need it, but it made her feel secure. The packs bouncing on her back felt hefty for their size. She couldn’t wait to see what their spoils were.

And of course Garrus wanted to take all of them off her shoulders when she met him under his tree. “I can keep most of them,” she said, letting some annoyance slip into her voice. “I carried your dead weight, didn’t I?”

His head snapped back momentarily, and she sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so nasty. I meant that I carried you just fine. You’re going to have to get used to me with my biotics.”

“Spirits, Jane, I could have watched that all day!” he said, any sign of impending hurt vanishing at the mention of her biotic abilities. “I just wish everyone else was here to see you in action. What was that last thing you did? The thing that made that last person hover?”

“Oh, the shockwave? That’s usually an area attack, but it seemed like it would be a good set-up for you to take her out,” she said. She smacked him with the back of a gauntleted fist and waved, picking up a trot back to the cave. He followed. “That wasn’t nearly as amazing as that shot you fired, like, an inch over my shoulder to tag that guy across the creek!”

“Oh, please,” he dismissed, “that was at least a meter over your head. It was nothing next to those biotic punches you were landing. I think you threw that one guy at least ten meters.”

“Ha, I’ll give you five meters at the most. But when I retell the story, I’ll say your bullet practically kissed my cheek on the way by.”

“How did I manage that if you were wearing a helmet?” he asked, reaching out as the ran to tap it. She ducked her head away; at least he couldn’t see her grin.

“Well, maybe I wasn’t wearing one in my story,” she shot back.

“Well, maybe you’re missing out on the opportunity to mock the idiots who decided not wearing helmets against a biotic was a good idea.”

“You got me there, Garrus. I’ll have to reexamine my story structure. By tradition, it only has to be ten percent true.”

“Oh, is that why all your stories sound so unbelievable?”

“Shut up. My stories are all 100%s.”

Garrus actually cackled with excitement when they got back to their hidden cave and started pulling things from the bags she’d stolen.

“What?” she asked him from the other side of the cave. She’d wanted to strip out of her armor before diving into their catch. She put the pistol down next to his sniper rifle so he could use it as a secondary weapon; she’d be happy with her shotgun and the SMG.

He held up something tiny in his hand that reflected the light from the small lamp with a glitter. “Field cameras. Lots of them. I bet these guys were sent out to set them up to find us.”

“And instead, we captured all the cameras. And took out probably a third of their people,” she said slowly.

His face seemed eerily scary in the shadows from the lamp as he gazed up at her, his normally bright blue eyes hidden in deep darkness. They gathered the light the way a cat’s did, and she had to shake off the abrupt sense of him as a predator. “Jane, we might be able to pull this off by ourselves with all this. I wasn’t so sure when we woke up this morning, but now?”

She dropped down to sit next to him, forcing him to turn more into the light. The shadows dropped from his face and the Garrus she’d come to know and lo— er, feel great affection for reemerged, his mandibles spread wide in a grin and his eyes sparkling with delight. Whew, that was better.

“I can rehome all these cameras to a local network within our omnitools. We can spy on them instead of the other way around!”

----<>----

It took them two full days to rig the cameras where they wanted them. They started at the base of the pass that led to their hideaway and worked backwards to the seniors’ compound from there. Shepard wasn’t an Infiltrator like Garrus was, so she left the hardest cameras to him. He ghosted in silently, and she hovered on the periphery, ready to snatch him out if the weather got bad. She watched camera views that covered the whole exterior of the compound come online one at a time on her omnitool.

They spent a couple days resting after that to recovered from almost 60 straight hours of stealth ops. Garrus plugged away at a rudimentary program to track their enemy with the cameras. Shepard successfully distracted him with sex several times, but he always went back to the program afterwards, muttering something about coding algorithms under his breath.

She tried not to think how adorable it was as she cleaned and maintained their armor and weapons. She’d never had a thing for smart guys – “nerd” was practically a curse word in both the Reds and the Marines – but he was so endearingly focused on it that it crashed into a surprising “very attractive” territory she’d never found herself in. It didn’t hurt that, nerd or not, he could keep up with her on the battlefield, his sniper rifle following her back to protect her from anything she might not see coming.

Vel’s warning and her own hesitation born of natural anxiety – Gods, she was going to have so much to discuss with her therapist when she got back – kept her from letting it get beyond that, though.

His hard work paid off three days later when most of the seniors turned out a few minutes before Trebia started to set on her abbreviated day. They started running search patterns over the whole area, leaving only four of them behind at guard posts on the compound. “Want to wreak some havoc?” Shepard asked Garrus with a grin.

“Is it your usual level of havoc, or something extra special?” he asked, tilting his head at her.

“Extra special,” she said. “Let’s cut the fence on the backside and sneak into the compound. I bet I can steal more shit than you can.”

He looked at her with no expression for a moment before one mandible flared out. “You’re on, but only if we include destroying things in our tally,” he said.

“Mmm, sounds like fun! I’m pretty good at destruction, though. I’d almost call it a specialty of mine.”

“You’re haphazard about it! I’m very good at being methodical about destruction,” he returned.

“Bring it on, Vakarian,” she agreed with a savage grin.

Getting to the compound was surprisingly easy with their cameras. Garrus had rigged a basic map that pinged with the last known sightings of anything large that moved, so they gave the patrols a wide berth and slipped to the back of the compound without a problem. They studied the metal fence for a moment from a hidden shelter behind a rock.

“I maaaaay have overestimated the simplicity of cutting through that,” Shepard admitted as they considered it. “That thing has to be at least ten centimeters thick. Can we go over it?”

“Hmm,” Garrus mumbled, shrugging his pack off his shoulder to dig around inside. He pulled out one of the small explosives they’d found in the bags with the cameras. “I have a couple ideas about how to get through.”

“You can’t just blast it,” she hissed. “That’ll bring all four guards running, and they’ll put a call out for the patrols to come back.”

“Don’t trust my skills?” he asked with a grin. She just shook her head and left him on the ground to tinker with the explosive while she took overwatch with her shotgun. She couldn’t see anything moving inside, which was encouraging.

“Ready,” he said after a few minutes. He had the thing entirely disassembled, cradling the pieces in his hand. “Stay here so we don’t both get blown up if I mess this up.”

“What happened to your skills, Vakarian?” she asked snarkily.

“Still flawless, Shepard. You should know that,” he said, flicking his mandibles over his shoulder at her as he moved off. Infuriating turian.

She watched him keep his head down as he darted across the one-hundred-meter gap between their hiding place and the fence. Even half bent over as he was, he still covered the ground in mere seconds like some terrifying ancient dinosaur. She felt a surge of relief that they were on the same side; fighting during the First Contact War must have been a special kind of hell for humans with zero concept of aliens and a latent terror of thunder lizards lurking in their ancestral mammalian DNA.

He set his pack down as soon as he reached the fence and got to work, stringing some kind of line in rectangular shape along the metal of the fence and pinning it at the corners with a tiny bit of something. She couldn’t make out the material from here. Once he’d outlined the shape, he worked his fingers along the string, layering something into it. He stepped back cautiously, reeling one end of the line out in front of him.

He crouched down about ten meters from the fence and fiddled with something at his feet. A light flashed along the fence a fraction of a second before a faint fssst reached her ears. He approached the fence again and gave the rectangle he’d outlined a light push. The metal separated from the rest of the fence and fell inside the compound with surprisingly little noise, dust swirling into the air around it.

He turned to beckon her forward, but she was already closing the distance between them. She blew by him as he was slinging his pack over his shoulder.

“You snooze, you lose, Vakarian!” she called cheerfully as she ducked inside.

“What does that even mean?!” he yelled after her, or at least, she thought he did. She was already twenty feet away and sprinting for the closest building. The door wasn’t locked, and it slid open under her touch to the door controls. She entered with her shotgun out.

Garrus’ voice crackled to life in her earpiece. “Shouldn’t we be doing this together?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a competition that way,” she whispered back. The hallway had lights, which meant that these rat bastards had power. She bet they’d been nice and warm during the rainstorm on the first night. “Hardstand buildings with power? Temperature control? Shit, Garrus, I want to take every last one of these guys out just to show that we can.”

“Not that I disagree, but don’t you think we would be stronger working together through the compound? Hasn’t that been your mantra this whole time?” he asked.

She opened the first door she found on her left and found a bunk room. There were two beds, two chairs, and two wall lockers. Hmph, must be nice. She left the personal possessions strewn across the beds alone but tipped both the wall lockers over with the flick of a biotic pull.

“Sure it has,” she responded. “But a bet is a bet, and I intend to win.”

She got through two more rooms before he finally answered her. “What exactly is our wager? I don’t believe we established that part.”

“Pride,” she answered promptly. The fourth room appeared to be a common room with a basic kitchen along the wall. She knocked over all the tables and chairs with a couple shockwaves and wrenched out the plumbing under the sink so that water started to spew everywhere. It seemed a little petty, but making a mess with biotics was satisfying.

“Pride?” he snorted in disdain. “What good is pride?”

“Well, if that isn’t the most unintentionally profound thing I’ve ever heard you say, I don’t know what is,” she joked.

“You know what I mean, Shepard,” he said accusingly, though his shifting, dry tone betrayed how unserious he was about it. “I can’t use pride. I can’t eat it. I can’t use it as currency for anything. What good is it?”

He had a point, although she could think of a lot of things she’d spend his pride on if he knelt in humility in front of her.

Focus, you horny Marine, she admonished herself. What would she offer him in fair return?

She cleared and wrecked a few more bunk rooms before an answer – maybe the only answer – slithered across her brain. She could…oh, Gods, could she really? The thought of it made her hands tremble around their tight grip on her shotgun.

He was Garrus, though. He was safe. She could. She would. She wanted to.

Besides, it didn’t matter; she was going to win.

“You can use my pride the buy a night to remember,” she offered.

“I’ve already got weeks upon weeks’ worth of nights I’m not likely to forget behind us,” he said. The words could have sounded callous, but there was a warmth in his tone that defied their superficial meaning. If she’d doubted the affection, his added, “and would eagerly repeat again any time,” would have put the doubts to rest.

“Well, then, Candidate Vakarian,” she said primly, “I suggest you work hard to find out exactly what would make this night more memorable than the rest.”

“Hmm, I have a few ideas about that.”

“I can’t wait to see them.”

"Count on it, Candidate Shepard."

Chapter Text

The building was small and only two stories tall, so it didn’t take Shepard very long to biotically toss every room in the place. It was very satisfying to know that all those scouts out running patterns would have to come back and clean up the barracks. She’d even destroyed the room that clearly had no occupants, and she’d also done the same thing to the common room on the second floor that she’d done to the one on the first. She hoped the freely flowing water would make everything just that much worse.

Garrus was silent while she cleared the barracks, but he spoke up as soon as she slipped out of the door that led to the inner part of the compound. “Don’t take out the guards until the end. If they see the casevac ship landing, I’m sure they’ll come back to investigate.”

“Of course,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing on all of Palaven. She didn’t mention that it hadn’t occurred to her until he said something. She’d actually been thinking of hunting the guards down so she could score more “kills” than he did. He had the pistol she’d picked up for him, but he still preferred to use his sniper rifle. He was probably haunting the roofs of the buildings and—

“Hey, are you watching me?” she demanded.

His soft chuckle wasn’t encouraging. “I thought you liked me on overwatch? I certainly enjoy the view.”

“We’re supposed to be competing,” she said. Turians seemed to turn everything into a competition, so she wasn’t sure why he would resist it here.

“Let’s just say that I’ve done the damage I came to do,” he said. “Now, I’m just making sure you survive this encounter.”

Trebia had fully set, but she still instinctively glanced around at the rooftops to try to spot him.

“You’ll never see me, Jane,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I will if you give me a hint. We can play hot or cold,” she offered.

“But we don’t have to play at anything: you’re definitely hot,” he replied. “That means attractive in human, right?”

She sighed and made her way to the next building. “Not in this context. You’re supposed to tell me if I’m hot or cold when I look in a particular direction.”

“That…doesn’t clarify anything.”

“Okay, fair,” she sighed. She tested the door and found it unlocked. This place had terrible security. “If I’m looking in the opposite direction from you, you’d tell me I was cold. If I started looking a little closer, I’d be warm. If I’m looking right at you, I’m hot. Get it?”

“No, not really.” She suppressed the urge to groan in frustration. “Besides, I like being a mystery.”

“Garrus,” she said as she slipped inside the next building, “you’ve been a mystery since I got here. For example, when were you planning on telling me you were on the list to maybe be Primarch of Palaven someday?”

“Oh, that,” he said, then went silent.

“‘Oh, that,’” she quoted mockingly. “Yes, that. It didn’t occur to you to tell me that you were from, like, the stratosphere of turian society?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a defensive edge in his voice. “Once I leave the family home at 15, I have to make my own way. Earn my own opportunities.”

“Garrus, I don’t think you have any concept of how easy your life has been,” she said. She wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation, but she kept her shotgun up as she started testing doors in the new building.

“It hasn’t been easy!” he protested.

“Garrus, you still think everyone’s parents arrange a marriage for them, but Vel assures me that’s not true for almost the entire turian population. You are terrible at making friends on your own because you don’t know what to do with people that weren’t prescreened for appropriateness. And you’re so sheltered that you have no idea when a girl is trying to get you into bed! I’m guessing you had the best education turian money can buy, too.”

The line was dead silent. She hoped he was thinking it over and not mad about her points. The first couple doors opened on empty storage rooms, but the third that she tried was an armory. She gasped in excitement.

“I found a weapons cache, big guy!” she cried out.

“Okay,” he said with almost no expression. Shit, she’d hurt his feelings.

“Hey,” she said softly, “please don’t be offended by what I said. It wasn’t meant that way. If you are…well, I’m sorry that I hurt you. I think you have a skewed view of the galaxy, and it’s not your fault. You don’t even realize it. I just came from a very different side of the social ladder – the bottom rung, if I’m being honest – and people like you have treated me like I was dog shit stuck on their shoe for most of my life. Now that I’ve been clued in to where you actually sit in the Hierarchy, I actually can’t believe you’ve been this nice to me.”

“You’re worth far more than the bottom rung of the ladder, Jane. And, while I don’t know what a dog is, I know you’re worth more than their shit. Spirits, sometimes I think you have no idea how truly incredible you are,” he said firmly. Shepard felt her face flush under the praise. “But I’m no better than anyone else, no matter how much influence my family might hold. I’m my own person, and I have to earn everything I get.”

She knew from experience that things seemed to come easier to people like him, but she didn’t want to upset him. He was a genuinely good man; she’d said her piece and would leave it there.

“You might have to earn everything you get, but I don’t see you winning our bet any time soon,” she said instead. “You know that you have to get off your ass to keep up with me and have a hope in hell of winning, right?”

“Oh, I know, Jane,” he said, laughing softly. She started stuffing weapons into her pack as fast as she could. She didn’t recognize half of their manufacturer’s marks, but several different types of assault rifles, shotguns, pistols, submachine guns, and handful after handful of heatsinks went into her bag. She wasn’t an expert on sniper rifles, but nothing looked much better than what Garrus himself carried. She slung her pack over her shoulders and attached a couple of them to her magnetic shoulder holsters anyway. If they were better than what he had, he could use one of them.

“Do you think I’ll get in trouble if I destroy the weapons and heatsinks that I can’t take?” she asked curiously. The last thing she wanted was a statement of charges for tens of thousands of credits worth of weapons. Or, even worse: demerits.

“Maybe,” he hedged, “but don’t you have simulated explosives? If you set one off in there, it should disable the guns for the rest of the Forge.”

“Ooooh, good idea! Thanks, Garrus!” She grinned as she pulled her pack off again and dug around her newly acquired weapons to pull one out. “This isn’t helping your side of the bet, you know.”

“Maybe you’ve taught me the true value of teamwork,” he said, his dry tone slicing through the comm like a knife.

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m holding your pride in my hand.”

“We’ll see.”

----<>----

Two very successful hours later, they were back in their secure cave. Shepard tried to keep herself from gloating, but she’d ended up “killing” three of the guards to his one, made an absolute mess of the compound’s barracks, and managed to steal a significant cache of weapons and disable the rest that she’d found. There may have been other armories in the compound she hadn’t found – plus the scouts obviously had their own weapons with them – but it was still a large number of weapons that were either gone or disabled.

“I’m up eight to six, plus all this gear,” she said smugly. It didn’t seem to faze Garrus at all. A moment of worry in her gut flared at his neutral expression; he seemed far too confident for someone losing their bet.

“Well, maybe we should give it a bit of time,” he said calmly. Oh, yeah, she should definitely worry.

“You did something,” she said suspiciously. His mandibles flared in a grin. Damn it.

“Maaaaybe,” he drawled. “Or maybe you’re just paranoid.”

“It’s not paranoid when you’re so obviously plotting something. Spit it out, Vakarian,” she ordered. He arched his brow plates at her.

“I don’t take orders from you, Shepard,” he said, leering.

“You definitely do under the right circumstances,” she said, glaring back. Her cheeks flushed as several memories came unbidden to the forefront of her mind. He followed her orders really well when he wanted to.

“Fair. Your bossy mode is too demanding to ignore,” he teased.

“Too perilous, more like,” she shot back.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest with one hand upright to prop up his chin in a mockingly thoughtful pose. “Hmm, maybe you should check camera 24-A3 then?”

She immediately flipped her omnitool on and cycled through the camera views until she found it. It appeared to be a view of a nondescript standalone building within the compound. It was set back from the fence and had no windows, just one door that the camera view bracketed perfectly. “What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.

“Oh, just their main food cache,” he said nonchalantly. “For such a key resource, they left it remarkably defenseless. Now, we’ve got a bunch of dextro field rations.”

She eyed the case he’d brought back with dawning comprehension. They wouldn’t give her any nutritional value, but that was what the levo nutrient paste was for. She could eat one and feel full. That would be a relief.

“Oddly enough, I found a small pack of levo rations in there, too. Almost like our battalion commander knew there was a human biotic out here that was starving for real food. Not that field rats could be considered ‘real food’ on any planet,” he said, holding up a small bag, “but I figured you’d want it anyway. Over a week of nothing but rat bars and nutrient paste has got to be wearing on you.”

She felt the saliva glands in her mouth go into overdrive at the thought of food. Real levo food!

The asari field rations that the turians had stocked for her were vastly better than any Alliance-made shelf stable product that she’d been subjected to in her time as an enlisted Marine. Sure, Shepard wouldn’t starve in the two weeks they were out here, not with the amount of levo nutrient paste she’d been given by the turians and the number of ration bars she’d managed to squirrel away.

But real food? Food that would give her the calories she needed in a bulky, more natural form and not leave her chugging water to feel full? The dextro rations would have worked just as well, but they would taste terrible. She could practically feel the flavor of the blue-colored protein on her tongue by just thinking about it.

“Is that really…?” She couldn’t even finish the question.

“Mm-hmm,” he said with a nod. “And all you have to do for it is say, ‘Garrus is a better Infiltrator than I am.’”

It was a true statement; while she was a beast at close-quarters combat with her biotics, he really was a natural at infiltration. She didn’t have the patience for the slow and steady techniques required for what he did. She rebelled at the idea of giving him the upper hand, though. “That insecure about your skills, Vakarian?” she asked, hoping that her hunger translated as the biting sting in her tone that she intended.

“No, Shepard,” he said, giving the bag a shake, “I just like hearing you humbled from time to time. We wagered our pride, remember? Also, check your vid feed.”

She swung her left arm back up in time to see a turian open the door to the supply cache. He walked inside, the door swinging shut behind him. A faint whomp rattled the camera, even from a distance. The resolution was high enough that she could see the faint puff of Palaveni dust that escaped the door seals.

“Eight to seven, and I just took out their food.”

All right, Garrus deserved a whole evening of smugness; she’d throw her pride at his feet for this one.

“Garrus is a better Infiltrator than I am,” she recited. “And he’s fucking hot when he’s being strategically brilliant. It’s a rare occurrence, though, so he shouldn’t get used to the praise.”

The faint smack of the bag of food hitting the ground wasn’t enough to draw her eyes away from the magnetic pull of his. “Do you want to eat before or after I fuck you so hard you’re screaming my name?” he growled as he glided to stand over her, his face mere inches from hers.

“Definitely after,” she breathed. Damn, aggressive Garrus was fucking sexy.

“Good.”

“Buuuut,” she drawled, “I believe I promised you a night to remember? What my pride could buy you?”

Anxiety flared in her stomach, but she placed her hand on the chest plate of his armor, her palm flat against the cold metal, and pushed him backwards towards their elevated sleeping platform. He went willingly enough, but his eyes never left hers, their intensity burning its way through her sudden bout of nerves.

She grasped his right arm with one hand and used her other to undo the latches on his gauntlet, letting it drop to the floor once she’d worked them all open. She pushed the thin layer of his under armor back and stroked her thumb lightly over the hide she found there. His slightly indrawn breath was enough to pull her eyes back to his face for a moment. She grinned and brought his wrist to her mouth, planting a kiss on his soft skin. She kept her eyes locked on his as she parted her lips and sucked gently.

His wrist spasmed in her hand, and his breath was a gasp this time as he closed the distance between them, his brow plates brushing against her forehead. “What was that?” he asked feverishly. Any hint of aggressiveness had disappeared from the lines of his posture and face.

“Something I’ve been working up the courage to show you for a while,” she whispered.

“Courage?” he asked.

“I can do that all over you,” she said, angling her head to brush her nose against his flat plates. “Think about it, Garrus. It might not be something a female turian can do, but it’s something a female human can.”

It didn’t take him very long to work through the implications of what she meant. She watched his eyes widen even further in their recessed sockets when what she was telling him without directly saying it finally occurred to him. Good. She would have spelled it out if she had to, but she was happy that he was learning to hear the unspoken subtleties.

“Are…are you saying you can…you would…with your mouth?!”

“Let’s get you out of this armor,” she purred at him, reaching up to stroke along one mandible with the hand that wasn’t still holding his wrist. He flicked it against her palm, an audible hum coming from his throat.

“Why do you need courage for this?” he asked. His free hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on it for a moment as he held her gaze. She was surprised to find that no twisting sensation of nervousness lingered in her stomach.

“Just some bad things in my past. Maybe I’ll find the courage to explain it all. But not tonight,” she answered. Their foreheads still touched, but she tilted her chin up again to give him a light kiss. “Tonight is just you and me. No bad memories allowed.”

He gave a fractional nod that didn’t break the touch of his plates against her skin. “If you need to stop, just tell me.”

Gods, she didn’t deserve him.

She pressed her lips against him again, harder this time. The hand on his mandible slid around to the back of his head to pull him against her. The heat of his mouth enveloped her tongue as she slid it inside, caressing the inside of his sharp teeth. The thrill of it coursed through her body, and she felt herself pulled against him by strong hands on her waist.

The grinding squeal of armor against armor pulled her mouth off his.

“Spirits, Jane, I—”

She cut him off with a laugh and pushed herself away. She started on the rest of his armor. It took him a moment to recover himself and help. They had all of it off in a matter of moments. He sort of shivered in the air and started to unzip his underlayer, but she still his hands. “No, it’s cold. Keep it on.”

She shoved him backwards again so that he sat down heavily on their makeshift bed. She had a head of height on him at this angle, and she smiled as she leaned over to burrow her face against his neck, her lips parting again to suck on his skin. He hissed and tangled three fingers in her hair.

“You like that?” she asked in a throaty whisper.

“Hnnngghh,” was all he managed to get out in a flanging wheeze. She’d take that as a yes.

She backed away from his neck and placed her hands on his shoulders to push him down on top of the sleeping bags. She reached out to grab both pillows as she followed him down, tucking them behind his head up under his fringe to give him a comfortable cushion. Their eyes locked as she leaned back, and she had to smile again at how wide his pupils were.

He pawed briefly at one of the spaulders of her armor. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable if…”

Her grin widened at the hesitation in his voice. “Does it turn you on if I’m still in my armor?” she asked. She was teasing him, but she didn’t expect the odd little meep that came out of him.

“Turians,” she snorted. “You have such a battle fetish.”

All he could do was nod in agreement, so she counted that as a small victory. She reached out to trail one finger through the opening of his underlayer at his throat. He’d managed to unzip it at least the length of her hand before she’d stopped him. The soft hide of his throat quickly gave way to the firm plates of his keel under the pad of her finger, the contrast deepening her smile in anticipation.

“Maybe if you’re good, we’ll figure out a way to actually fuck in the armor,” she promised, tilting her head to give him a smirk. His hands clutched over her waist so hard that she could feel the squeeze of them through the layers of metal. “You’re so predictable, Vakarian.”

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes didn’t leave her face as she bent over him to press her mouth into the vulnerable soft place under his chin plate and sucked sharply on it. He threw his head back so hard that she could hear the longest tip of his fringe scraping against the rocks.

“There’s going to be a lot more of this,” she said sternly as she pulled away again. “You’re going to need to keep yourself under control.”

Despite the cold, his mouth was open and he was panting slightly, his eyes still on her but just out of focus. Well, if that wasn’t the most goddamn sexy look she’d ever seen on him…

“You’re going to keep yourself under control for me, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice brokering no opposition. His mouth didn’t close, but he did manage to nod. “Good boy. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Her finger on his chest hadn’t moved, but she used her other hand to grasp his zipper and tug it down lower, exposing his whole chest plate to the air. The pointed edge of his keel poked through the opening, and she caressed along its prow. She knew it wasn’t natural armor, but it seemed normal for such a militaristic species to come with their own protective plates. She spread her fingers to stroke down one side, reaching to find the soft skin hiding under fabric.

“M'not done growing,” he gasped. She looked at him in amusement. “I’ll get thicker. More muscle.”

“You think you aren’t thick enough for me?” she asked. Her eyes dropped down to where his legs met his waist and she felt his subvocals rumble harder against the palm of her hand. “Personally, I can’t wait to get you inside me, but I have things I need to do to you first.”

She reached down to rub her hand across the material at his crotch. From the way his skin bulged against her hand, she could tell he wasn’t quite out of his seam yet, but he was getting close.

“Are you going to last for me?” she asked, rubbing just her thumb along where she knew his seam was.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered. She could feel the tip of cock emerging, though. She should probably stop teasing him and speed this along.

She moved her hand away from his groin to unzip him the rest of the way in one fluid motion. She swiped downward with the hand resting against the side of his keel to trail her fingers all the way down to his waist. His whole body spasmed under hers as she pushed the flap of ballistic cloth aside to latch onto the sensitive skin at his waist with her mouth. She knew from experience that it was even more sensitive than the skin at his wrist and neck.

She pulled back slightly to lick along his hide where she’d just sucked hard enough to leave a welt if he were human, soothing the skin. His whimper was delicious. She trailed her tongue up to lave along the edges of the thin plates that protected his stomach, their shape mirroring that of human abdominal muscles. She followed their edge down with the trailing tip of her tongue to where they pointed at the very top of his seam, the groin plates having long since shifted out of the way.

She was delighted to see the blue tip of his cock poking out of the very top of his slit. She settled onto her knees in between his legs and laid her hands flat on both sides of it to massage gently. She glanced up the line of his body to meet his fully dilated eyes, which were focused on her with such rapt attention that she felt a blush steal across her cheeks.

Very slowly and without breaking eye contact, she reached out the tip of her tongue to swipe it across his exposed length, his natural lubrication singing with immediate musky sweetness on her taste buds. His eyes rolled back, and she refocused on the sight immediately in front of her. A few finger-widths of his cock were out in the cold air. Shepard couldn’t let any part of him freeze, much less that one!

She opened her mouth wide enough to cover it all, sealing them against his skin with a light suction while her tongue slid down over the one exposed ridge and over the rest of his seam. His subvocals vibrated intensely against her mouth, his hips twitching as she tugged gently backwards with her head, not breaking the seal of her lips on him.

He heaved a ragged groan that shattered the silence of their cave, and she almost lost her seal on him as a couple more ridges of his length slid out of him and directly into her mouth. Her lips were pushed off his seam, but she was able to keep the suction directly on his shaft as he emerged further. She bobbed her head up to suck only on the very top of his cock, using her thumbs to massage up and along the underside of him.

Her tongue danced on the head of his cock, swirling around to gather as much of his slickness as she could. She finally released him with a muffled pop, sucking in and swallowing his juices. “Gods, Garrus, you taste so good,” she moaned. There was already an aroused heat gathering between her legs. She wasn’t going to last long herself if going down on him felt this damn good.

He was almost fully out of his seam now. She pushed her mouth against the base of his cock and laid her tongue flat against it, licking upwards along his length with deliberate pressure, sucking him back into her mouth when she got to the top. One of his hands wound through her hair again as he thrashed underneath her. Surprisingly, he didn’t thrust up into her mouth at all, as if he were being cautious of hurting her. She hummed in approval at him, and she felt the last of his ridges finally pop out as his dick did the thrusting for him to hit the back of her throat.

She released him to reset herself, licking his length again and making quiet little appreciative noises at how he tasted. She wrapped one hand around him, fastened her mouth around his tip again, and started sliding up and down in earnest. She could barely hear the needy noises he was making as his subvocals seemed to vibrate in her head, but what she could hear was encouraging, so she kept at it, her fingers stroking his ridges as her mouth bobbed up and down.

“Jane,” he gasped. “I’m not…I’m not gonna…I’m not gonna last much l-longer.”

She pulled her mouth off to offer, “Good,” up at him before resuming her ministrations. His hand in her hair became a fist while his other one gripped her spaulder. He twitched and spasmed in against her tongue for a moment before she felt hot liquid hit her throat as he groaned and folded nearly in half off the bed above her. She released him with her mouth so she could gulp it all down, licking and stroking to get every last bit she could. He tasted so fucking good that she couldn’t help herself. Why hadn’t she tried this before?

Both of his hands grasped under her armpits to yank her upwards and on top of him. She giggled at his forwardness. “Miss me?” she asked.

“How could I miss you with your mouth on me like that?” he asked incredulously. His arms wrapped around her as he buried his face in her hair. “What the hell is that called?”

“A blowjob,” she said, letting herself be squished against him.

“You weren’t blowing, you were…doing something else?” he said. She could hear the question in his muffled voice.

“Sucking?” she asked. “Yeah, the human mouth can create suction. You seemed to like it.”

“You have no idea,” he wheezed.

“Oh, I think I do.”

“Not done yet,” he groaned, his hands roaming over her body. She could feel the hard pressure of them through her armor.

“You do have an armor fetish, don’t you?” she asked breathlessly.

“And guns. Can never forget the guns when it comes to turians,” he growled as he pried at the lower half of her armor. She snickered as she helped him peel it off her, but her laughter ended in a gasp as he threw her over onto her hands and knees and buried himself deeply inside her in one rough thrust.

“Ohhh,” she moaned in satisfied fulfillment. She didn't realize how desperately she needed him to fill her until he was actually bottoming out against her hips.

He paused after his first wild penetration to bend over her, his breath hot on the back of her neck. She could feel one hand in her hair, and she looked down along her stomach to find his other caressing the metal plates of her armor on her abdomen.

“You better fuck me good,” she growled, bracing herself. His answering wordless snarl was accompanied by a savage buck of his hips as he pulled out and slammed back in once. The hand in her hair slipped around to cradle her throat. His sharp talons scraped against her skin, but she felt no accompanying fear; only excitement coursed in her veins now.

 “Fuck me,” she demanded again. “Fuck me so hard I scream your name.”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he promised. “Especially that.”

They were fortunate that the nights were so long at this latitude; they had plenty of time and nothing else to fill it with.

Chapter Text

“Look here,” Shepard said as she pointed at the map on her omnitool. She and Garrus were sitting in their cave; though the hard floor wasn’t very comfortable, it was the only place they could compare notes and strategize over their omnitools. “I’m convinced that they suspect we’re up here, but they just haven’t found the right path yet.”

Garrus studied his own map and shook his head. “I don’t know, Jane.”

“Look at their scouting patterns!” she protested. “The preponderance of their scouts were on this side of the valley, and they were running basic sweeps until yesterday when they got right up to the base of our path. They were less than half a kilometer off. I’m convinced they found something that gave us away.”

“Should we move?” he asked, though he still didn’t sound thoroughly convinced.

“I don’t think so. This place is too good; we haven’t found anything remotely as nice in the week and a half that we’ve been here. And we’ll have alerts if they make for us. We’d be able to get out in time and go down the back way to the valley.” She studied the map again. “But maybe we camp out on the other side of the valley for a night and try to draw one or two in? You know, make it seem like we’re over there?”

He nodded and leaned back against the rock wall behind him to look at her. “If that’s what you want to do, I’m right beside you,” he assured her. She smiled at him; it felt good knowing they were a team.

The light outside had long since faded, though, and she was getting tired. They could put off the rest of their planning until the morning. They had their contingency escape plan planned and rehearsed, so they were as safe as they could be for now. Figuring out how they were going to draw the rest of the seniors out if they didn’t come out of their compound willingly was a problem for future Shepard.

“Bed?” she asked Garrus. Instead of the enthusiastic consent she expected, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face plates.

“Yeah,” he agreed flatly.

“You okay?” she asked worriedly. Still, if he was having second thoughts about what they did in bed together, best to know now. “If you…want to sleep apart…we can.”

“What? No!” he protested immediately, his hand dropped from his face and his eyes met hers with her own level of worry redoubled in their blue depths. “Do you want to sleep separately?”

“No!” she said quickly. “We’ve figured out how to minimize chaffing, and it’s nice and warm cuddled up together.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his mandibles flaring briefly in a grin.

“Something’s wrong, though,” she insisted.

“Not with you,” he reassured her. “Just been thinking a lot about my family. Recently, I mean.”

“Oh?” she asked, hoping it invited him to keep talking. A worry that her comments about his upbringing when they’d raided the compound had made him reconsider their relationship – informal as it was – surfaced in a wave of nauseous panic.

“Yeah,” he sighed. He didn’t say anything else about it, just pushed himself to his feet and reached out a hand to her. “Sleep sounds nice, though.”

She took his hand and he pulled her upright. She wanted to keep going to give him a reassuring kiss, but the worry churning in her gut held her back. If he was having second thoughts, she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

He did it instead, his other hand sliding around her waist to pull her against him and press his mouth on hers. The worry didn’t exactly melt away at his gesture, but its intensity certainly dropped. It was just a brief, chaste kiss, but it warmed her to her toes that he’d initiated it. His quiet pleased, “Mmm,” that slipped out afterwards didn’t hurt.

They were already stripped down to their under armor padding, so she slid underneath the top sleeping bag and all the way back against the wall. She lifted the fabric invitingly next to her and he joined her under their makeshift covers, wrapping himself around her body with a relieved sigh. She let one slip out, too, grateful that he seemed happy enough to snuggle up with her.

He made no further overtures, so she smoothed one palm along his keel and said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He snorted. “I know your policy, but I’m not so sure.”

“If you aren’t comfortable, it’s fine,” she reassured him, “but I’m still here to listen if you need me to. I don’t know too much about family dynamics – wasn’t like I had one growing up – but you know I’m perfectly good at listening.”

“I know you are,” he said softly into her hair. He nuzzled his face gently against the top of her head and exhaled again. The warmth of his breath was a balm to her anxious soul. “I just don’t want to unload too much on you or anything.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she admonished.

The light background rush of water that echoed from their perpetual water source in the back of the cave covered the small noises of them shifting and settling in their makeshift bed. The light from the lamp next to their combined sleeping bags still shone dimly in their little cavern, but it wouldn’t have been enough to stop Shepard from falling asleep if she’d really wanted to. She was far too keenly tuned to Garrus’ body for that, though not in the sexual way she’d hoped for. He was tense, and she could feel the cords of arm muscle held in rigid tightness around her, the tautness so sharp she almost feared it would slice her in half.

“Garrus.” She pitched her words with understated insistence, and, like the good turian she knew he still was deep down, he immediately gave in.

“I grew up privileged, Jane,” he said hesitantly. The urge to snap I know was instantaneous, but she ruthlessly suppressed it. Hear him out. “I wasn’t allowed many friends, and the ones I had were carefully screened. While my father was away on the Citadel for much of my youth, his mother had a great deal of control over my schooling. My own mother never said anything in my hearing about it, but I suspected she resented it, hence the camping and wildness lessons. My grandmother could hardly object to her daughter-in-law taking her grandchildren hunting, no matter how much she objected to the daughter-in-law-herself, so it became a socially acceptable escape from her pressure.”

It was interesting to listen to his speech patterns shift. Grubby solider Garrus could talk like the other candidates in their cohort, but high turian society scion Vakarian had clearly been brought up very differently. Two of his fingers were tracing idle patterns on her lower back, and she suspected he didn’t even feel the cloth under them as lost in memories as he probably was.

“My father drilled me relentlessly when he was home from C-Sec. I hated the sniper rifle at first, but he made me practice it over and over until my arms couldn’t hold it up.” His fingers stilled, and she stroked her own path of reassurance over his hips. It seemed to jerk him out of his reverie. “He told me that I had to just pull myself together and do it. Spirits, what was it he said? ‘Because if you stop now – if you give up on something when it gets hard – you’re never going to make it anywhere in life.’”

“He wasn’t wrong,” she offered softly. “Maybe not the best way to teach the lesson, but it’s still mostly true.”

“It is,” Garrus agreed, his hand pulling her tightly against him. She relaxed willingly against the hard lines of his body, his subvocals thrumming through her. They seemed more agitated than normal, their steadiness replaced by a variable pitch that was similar to when he’d been slowly freezing to death. He must really be upset.

“But I wish…I wish there’d been a different way for me to learn,” Garrus said sadly. “My mother always managed to teach me things without pain. I never understood why he couldn’t do the same. And when she got in her accident…”

Shepard stilled her soothing strokes on his hip. His voice caught the edge of some deep loss, and she could help herself as she burrowed her face into his neck to place a light kiss on his skin. He talked about his mother as if she were alive; had she misunderstood his words?

“It was a hit-and-run,” Garrus said, not acknowledging her kiss. “I was at the orbital launch port when I got the message that she was in the hospital. I rushed back, of course. What kind of son would I be if I hadn’t?”

He paused, his breath and subvocals unsteady against her. “She didn’t remember what had happened, said she was fine. But her doctor said that had the guy struck just a fraction more to the right, she would have been dead. A fraction to the left, and he would have hit my little sister, too. The officer assigned to the case said my mom must have pushed her out of the way, even if Sol didn’t remember much of anything either. They caught him eventually, and I think he’s still on work-reform detail.”

Shepard didn’t even pause to process the cultural difference; prison, she translated without a thought.

“My dad wasn’t coming home from the Citadel, no matter how badly mom was hurt,” Garrus continued. He sat up abruptly, tearing himself away from Shepard. Concern flooded through her as she propped herself up on elbow and forearm to watch him.

“You asked a few weeks ago why I didn’t go for Engineer?” he asked, not looking at her. “It was that. I was supposed to go on an engineering internship, but I didn’t so I could stay with her. I could have bypassed military service after basic if I’d done well – and I would have! I know it! – but staying there for her…for them. My little sister was only ten! What was she supposed to do while mom was in the hospital?”

Families like his didn’t lack resources to care for wayward ten-year-olds, but Shepard wasn’t stupid enough to bring that up. She just reached out to lay her free hand on his thigh over the blanket in reassurance. She was here, she was listening.

“I just…I just…I thought everything he ever said was right. But it turned out that he’s been wrong about some things. About a lot of things. About what’s right and proper. ‘Proper.’ Ha, what a joke. He was wrong about people like Taris, people like you. About the reality of what goes on in the galaxy. And I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know what to do! Spirits, Captain Kryik’s told me he’s proud of me more than my own father ever has.”

She wanted to hug him against her but just settled for sympathetic silence and the pressure of her hand on his leg as he stared at his clenched hands.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have those kinds of expectations put on you,” he said, his voice shot through with bitterness. “Like the weight of the whole family is pressing down on your carapace. Like everyone thinks their future is wrapped up in yours. ‘It’s nice that you got a perfect score on your engineering exams, Garrus, but why have you been neglecting your marksmanship? You’ll need that for success in the military more than engineering. And what else have you done this week to prove your worth to the family?’ Couldn’t my father just say he was proud of me and leave it at that? For once?! Why were my aspirations never good enough for him? Why was…why was I never good enough for him.”

His voice was ragged, and she hurt somewhere deep inside with the rawness of his pain. She’d never had a family that would love her the way he’d obviously been loved, but that meant she also didn’t have a family that could hurt her the way he’d been hurt. As awful as he’d been, Mercy ultimately didn’t have the capacity to hurt her the way family would have. He’d hurt her plenty enough in his own twisted way, but it hadn’t been from the ways that the love a parent gave their child could burn when misapplied. He’d convinced her she was in love with him, and all her pain after that was her own fault.

“No,” she agreed softly, reaching out to pull his fists apart and lace her fingers through his. “I’ve never had any family expectations to live up to. No pressure from disappointed parents and grandparents. My experience was…a little different. There was just this one guy. So, no, I don’t know what that’s like. That’s not to say I’ve never felt the weight of expectations on me, but I’m sorry you had to grow up that way. I can’t imagine the kind of pressure you’ve been under.”

His hand gripped hers back tightly as he pulled her into his arms. She let him ease them both back down under the cover of her sleeping bag. “Tell me? About yours?” he requested gently, his focus suddenly completely on her.

It was quiet in their little corner of Palaven. The light was turned down low and she was comfortably sheltered in the bulwark of Garrus’ body, the dimness providing a sense of safety for her. He’d given her his trust; she could give him hers.

“They called him Mercy as a joke. Because he didn’t have any, you see,” she said softly. “All of us younger ones didn’t see his brutality. We idolized him. He used to give us candy when we pulled a good score off a tourist. He just oozed charm and charisma. I don’t remember a time when he didn’t seem like the most impressive guy I’d ever met. He was at least ten years older than me, and I just wanted to look good in his eyes.”

Garrus nuzzled his face into her hair, squeezing his arms tighter around her in support. “He chose me out of all the girls when I was fifteen. When he told me I loved him, I believed him. Him! A guy that had been an adult giving me candy when I was a kid. The worst part wasn’t how naïve and stupid I was, or even the sex,” she confessed. “I thought I was supposed to like it that way, so I shoved any other feelings deep down. Eventually, it didn’t matter how degrading it felt. It got so I was numb to it after a while because I thought that’s just what sex was. No, what I couldn’t handle was when he told me, ‘That’s not how a good girl acts,’ when he hit me. And I never got hit for the same things twice in a row.”

She snuggled harder into Garrus’ neck so she wouldn’t have to chance looking at him. She breathed in his familiar, calming scent and let it settle her nerves.

“I didn’t have to run drugs anymore, but I had to keep everything perfect in his apartment up on the fourth floor of our building. S-sometimes I’d get hit if his socks weren’t rolled just right, or sometimes if they were rolled and not folded. If the bedsheets were turned down waiting for him, or if he was high out of his mind wanting to sleep and they weren’t. I’d get hit if I wasn’t fast enough to serve him his drink – this rotgut whiskey he loved with exactly three cubes of ice – when he came back to the apartment, or if it wasn’t exactly the right amount. Just a cuff then to remind me what he expected.”

She bit back a sob. She was safe here. She could say these things. “It got so that I wanted him to slap me, because if it was just a slap instead of a punch, I probably wouldn’t bruise. And he would be so sweet after he hit me. Tell me that I shouldn’t make him angry because I deserved to be treated like a good girl, and he couldn’t do that if I did things wrong and made him angry. And I believed him.”

One of Garrus’ hands found its way to her hair and stroked through it, talon tips scratching gently at her scalp. His subvocals vibrated reassuringly against her whole body and he hummed against the top of her head.

Their time together was so close to ending, but she felt so certain in his arms. She couldn’t find the right words to describe it to herself no matter how hard she tried; she’d never existed like this in the context of safety and trust with someone else before. She’d never felt freedom to explore each other’s bodies and emotions this way with anyone. She’d never had the space to open up like this to anyone: free to be honest because she knew they trusted her the same way.

Hell, she hadn’t even told her therapists everything that she told him. She hadn’t known what sex was supposed to feel like until him. She’d read about it, but she hadn’t known. If she could go back in time and give Mercy a biotic punch to his gut for what he’d ruined for her for literal years she wouldn’t hesitate.

“My therapists have helped me deconstruct most of it. I know it was the typical escalating strategies that abusers use. I know he pushed and pushed to see how far he could take it. To break me down and use me. I know the facts of it now, but I didn’t know any better at the time, so I just dealt with it for a year thinking it was normal. Until he wanted to make a move to take over the Reds, and he offered me to one of the other gang lieutenants for his support. ‘She’ll make your bed in the morning and warm it at night,’ he told him. He laughed when he said it. He’d convinced me I loved him, but to him, I was just a thing he controlled. A thing he owned.”

Garrus’ hum turned into a guttural growl, but his hand in her hair didn’t stop its slow, gentle caress. Shepard pushed herself on, feeling an overwhelming need to get it all out in the safe space of his arms.

“My biotics had been coming in for months at that point, but I didn’t realize it. I thought I was just getting clumsier as I finished growing. When he tried to hand me over, I lashed out without knowing what I was doing. Slammed them both into the wall. And I ran. I ran until I got to the local Alliance recruiting station. They couldn’t take me yet, but they helped me. Got me a biotic implant and sent me far away to Grissom Academy on some scholarship. I had to give sworn testimony to the Vancouver police about the Reds’ activities first, but it got me out of that hellhole. Signed a deposition and ran as far away from the Reds as possible.”

Hell, she eventually ran to the Marines, and they took her to every side of the galaxy except Earth. Sometimes it still didn’t feel far enough away.

Garrus let her stay quiet with her face buried in his neck. She gathered herself, exhaling sharply through her nose before continuing. “Grissom got me up to speed academically and even gave me a crash course in biotics right before I left to enlist at eighteen. But you’re the first person I’ve slept with since him. I tried at the Naval Academy last year.”

She took another deliberate inhalation. “I opened up a bit to this guy about my past – about the gang and the drug running. Not Mercy. Never said anything about Mercy – because he seemed sympathetic. I thought if I could just do it once, I’d get beyond all the things in my past holding me back. But I lost it when he tried to get on top of me. I knocked him off me with a shockwave at point blank range. Hurt his pride more than his body, thankfully. I didn’t get in trouble – not after my therapist got involved in the review board – but my social standing tanked after that.”

“I’m honored by your trust, Jane,” he murmured in her ear, his hand delicately cradling the back of her head.

“It wasn’t trust at first,” she confessed. “You were just so different that I wasn’t afraid. When you pinned me, I was turned on for the first time in my life. I just sort of went for it without thinking, even though I was beyond furious at you.”

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was desperate to hurt you, and it seemed like the only way how. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s in the past Garrus. I know you didn’t mean it, and we’ve been through a lot together over the last couple months.”

“Do you trust me now?” he asked. He already knew the answer, but she gave it to him anyway.

“Now, I don’t think there’s anyone else I trust as much as you. Not with anything, and especially not with this. You won’t hurt me.”

“Never again,” he promised, his mouth finding its way to the sensitive spot just below her ear that made her sigh. She was grateful he’d found that spot, and the particular patch of skin on her inner thighs that made her squirm. And the one just above her hipbones that was only ticklish when he took it extra slow. She never thought she could feel this way, and she didn’t want it to stop.

“Garrus?”

“Mmm?”

“Can we keep in touch after this? I want to…”

…keep letting you in.

…be with you.

…let myself love you.

She was an idiot. She couldn’t do any of that, no matter how hard she tried. Being from different worlds wasn’t even the issue; after how everyone else had treated them over the last couple months, she didn’t think it would truly be a problem.

But he couldn’t be with her, even if he wanted to. Couldn’t possibly love her. Stupid, idiot girl. His family would make sure of that, even if he didn’t himself. He had a bright future with his people, even if he was reluctant to pursue it right now. She’d just be in the way.

“…stay your friend.”

There, the nice and safe choice, even if her chest ached strangely at the thought.

He let up on his soft nuzzling against the skin of her neck to answer, pulling back so they could look each other in the eyes. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Jane. You might be the first real friend I’ve ever made on my own, and I wouldn’t dream of letting something like this slip away.”

She smiled at him, feeling a warm glow of acceptance creep through her chest as she pushed her head forward and pressed her forehead against his brow plates. He purred at her and her smile widened. Even a stern internal reminder that this isn’t a relationship, dammit, could do nothing to chill the warmth she felt inside.

Whatever it was between them, it felt damn good. Their twelve weeks of forced togetherness were almost done, but she felt an unshakeable certainty that Garrus Vakarian was always going to be the best friend she’d ever have.

Chapter Text

Shepard felt a moment of panic as the turian she’d been stalking knocked the barrel of her shotgun away just as she squeezed the trigger. Her shot echoed harmlessly off the trees as she ducked under the turian’s return punch, using her momentum to push off from the ground and kick out with her legs. Her feet connected solidly with the turian’s exposed lower back. He grunted and rolled from the impact. She didn’t spare a second thought for anything except running.

Her armor helped power her sprint, but she could hear the turian grunting with effort as he chased her through the underbrush. Shit, she shouldn’t have set this trap where she had; it was too far away from her support. She threw up a barrier over her back in case he did the smart thing and shot at her. She could feel him gaining on her with every step. She poured all her focus into putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she could, ducking around trees and avoiding their roots in the darkness.

She felt something catch under her boot and she sprawled to the ground, tumbling end over end. Her lungs emptied involuntarily as she finally came to an abrupt, rattling stop against a tree trunk. She gasped for breath as the hostile turian loomed over her, his full helmet concealing his face from view.

“Finally caught you, human. Atticus will be pleased, and I’ll be the only one with a kill. Next is your traitor of a partner.”

Traitor, she thought incredulously. Did this asshole really think Garrus had had any choice about who his partner had been? The critical thinking skills weren’t very strong in this one.

He didn’t hold a weapon, though she could see both a pistol and shotgun cinched to his belt. Of course he wouldn’t be holding a weapon; if he’d had one in his hands, he would have used it. One fist poised for a blow raised above her as he looked down. “I’m going to do this the fun way. Any last words?” he sneered.

A shadow moving in the darkness of the tree limbs above him caught the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face. The turian couldn’t possibly see it through her helmet, but that hardly mattered. “‘From above, the wicked shall receive their just rewards,’” she quoted, spreading her hands wide and smiling up at him.

His voice shifted to confusion. “Is that supposed to be some sort of religious thing?” he asked, his fist relaxing just a little bit.

“No,” she said, “just something I heard in a cartoon once.”

“What?” he asked. It didn’t last very long because two boot-clad feet landed squarely on his shoulders only a second later and crushed him to the ground. Garrus rolled off smoothly, using his already drawn pistol to finish off the other turian at point blank range in case the impact hadn’t been enough for the sensors to register a kill.

“Spirits, Jane, that was cutting it close,” he complained as he hoisted her to her feet. “I couldn’t get a good angle on him with you in front.”

“Nah, I knew you had my back,” she said, shaking her head. She immediately knelt back down to start riffling through the turian’s pack as Garrus traded his pistol for his sniper rifle and fell into a guard stance to watch over her. It felt like there was something large in the bottom of the strange turian’s pack. “Besides, I had my barrier up and a biotic punch ready to go. Who d’you suppose this Atticus is, anyway? That’s the second time I’ve heard one of them mention the name.”

“Probably their student commander,” he said softly. His eyes didn’t stop searching the forest around them for threats. “Top student in the class gets put in charge of the cohort to run this op. Bet he’s been going crazy over not being able to catch us.”

“This is sixteen,” she said, unable to control the triumph in her voice. She pulled a few ration bars out of the bag and dropped them on the ground, rooting down deeper. They still had plenty of those. “We’re even again – although I think I deserve partial credit for luring this one under your tree. More importantly, if they had the average attrition and had thirty going into this, we’ve eliminated over half of them now. Minimum goal accomplished!”

“You’ve never struck me as the type to be satisfied at achieving the minimum, Jane,” he said, sparing her a glance.

She finally pulled the very large explosive device out of the field pack and held it aloft between them. “You know me so well, Garrus! And it looks like this guy brought me a present to make our finale unforgettable.”

“Still a few days to go before then,” he cautioned.

“I know, but this? I’ve got ideas for what to do with this baby.”

She almost jumped out of her armor when the turian laying prone beside her wheezed, “Atticus will get you both. He’s a master soldier. Unparalleled at hand-to-hand and pinpoint with any weapon. I’ve never seen anything like him.”

“Not good enough to help you,” Garrus said, reaching down to offer Shepard a hand up again. “And not good enough to ever stop her. You haven’t seen her in action. She’s far beyond any turian I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s only human and I almost had her except for you. But he was my partner during Reception,” the other turian continued. Shepard wasn’t going to be offended by his assumption that her humanity made her less than a turian; she didn’t have time to waste on that anymore. It seemed like the guy wanted to talk before the casevac got there, though, and she’d certainly spend some time getting whatever intel they could.

Feeling weird about having a conversation with someone that was face down in the dirt, Shepard waved off Garrus’ offered hand to roll the guy over. The lock on his armor didn’t extend to the soft ballistic fabric that covered his neck, and his helmet moved so that she could tell he was looking straight at her.

“You’re outdoing him. He’s never going to forgive this. He’ll hunt you. Be careful. Training accidents happen; he might actually kill you. There was another soldier that outperformed him during Reception. He went home with two broken legs. I’m sure Atticus did it, but the cadre couldn’t prove it.”

“You would have been kicked out, too, if he’d been caught,” Garrus pointed out.

“Probably would have been worth it,” the prone turian muttered. “His cousin is someone important. Wouldn’t tell us who, not even me. But he learned things from him. He hates humans. He’s got everyone whipped into a frenzy over you.”

“Jane, we have to get out of here,” Garrus said, his voice low and urgent. “The casevac is coming.”

She couldn’t hear the whine of the shuttle yet, but weeks of experience had taught her that Garrus’ hearing was better than hers. “Thanks for the warning,” she said and patted the other turian on the shoulder. “We’ll be careful. And, for what it’s worth, you’ve come the closest to getting one of us so far. Well done, soldier!”

The turian’s low laugh echoed in the growing darkness around them as she and Garrus took off into the twilight. “There’s no pep talk like a military pep talk,” Garrus joked, “even when you aim it at the enemy.”

Shepard grinned as she clutched her new prize firmly in her arms. This Atticus didn’t know it yet, but he was going to get one hell of a finish if she had anything to do with it.

They snuck into the open area next to the compound three days later under the cover of early morning darkness to bury the thing as a trap, Garrus sure he’d hacked its controls to their exclusive use. There weren’t enough turians left to run constant scout patterns, and they chose the right lull in activity; no one spotted them as they got a bare three hundred meters from the compound’s front gate.

This was shaping up to be an excellent finale.

----<>----

Two days later, the motion detection alarm Garrus had rigged for the cameras woke them before the light from a rising Trebia could. They both floundered out of their shared sleeping bags with a complete lack of grace, though they managed to do it quickly. Garrus felt a surge of adrenaline as he took a moment to check the alert and cycle through the cameras. Several turians were exiting the compound and heading in different directions.

“Five of them on the move, Jane,” he said eagerly. “Looks like they’re spreading out.”

She grunted and tossed a dextro ration bar at him. He caught it and noticed that she’d already torn it halfway open for him. His mandibles flared in amusement at her way of expressing care for him as he bit down, moving to where his armor was stacked and trusting the rudimentary tracking program that he’d built for the cameras to tell them if any of the turians were headed in their direction.

He was only halfway into his armor by the time she’d fully donned hers and devoured one of her levo ration bars. He felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for her; her biotics were causing raging hunger that no ration bar had a chance in hell of satisfying and she’d eaten the last of their stolen levo meals two days ago. He’d offered to share his last dextro meal with her yesterday, but her polite declination was somewhat ruined by the fake retching noises she made afterwards.

He hoped there was a huge levo dinner waiting for her at the end of this. After finding the levo rations in a turian supply cache, he knew Captain Kryik could be trusted to anticipate the need and arrange for something like that. He seemed to think of everything, an ability that Garrus could do nothing but admire. He needed to figure out how he managed it.

She finished packing their sleeping bags and bounced on her toes and stretched while she waited for him to finish getting kitted up. “Did you take a stim already?” he asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just a little keyed up with anticipation.”

He grinned at her as he strapped his second greave into place. “Me, too.”

His sniper rifle went into its place over his shoulder, and the pistol she’d stolen for him from their first battle snapped into its spot on his hip. He’d been using it for a while now, and it was adequate for his needs. He considered the assault rifles for a moment before grabbing the ERCS Banshee he’d set aside yesterday and checking it over. It seemed sound and his functions check ended with a reassuring thump of the firing mechanism, so he loaded it with a spare heat sink before it went over his other shoulder to latch onto his back next to his trusty Mantis.

Jane’s laugh intruded on his concentration. “Finally loading all the way up?” she asked, one hand on a hip.

“Nah, I’ll leave the shotguns and SMGs to you,” he said, waving at the sizeable arsenal still laid out in front of them.

“You know what I like,” she said in a suggestive tone, her grin canting to one side of her face while one eyebrow arched at him. She already had her usual two latched to her belt.

“Spirits, Jane, there’s no time for that this morning!” he protested. Despite his words, he closed the distance between them to pull her against him and very thoroughly kiss her the human way, his tongue delving into her mouth. She tasted like the off-putting sandpaper grit of her levo ration bar, and he didn’t care at all. It was the feel of trust that he sought – and easily found – as her hand wrapped around the back of his head to pull him against her.

They broke apart with a whimper from her and groan from him when a secondary alarm sounded on their omnitools. His protective groin plates had already shifted under his armor, but at least he hadn’t slipped out of his sheath entirely. That would have made what they were about to do extremely uncomfortable.

“At least one is at the base of the pass. You sure you don’t want any of these? I can still rig one of the assault rifles for you,” he mumbled, pulling away from her before his body decided to make any more inopportune moves.

“No, I’m good with what I have,” she said, her breathing satisfyingly heavy. He liked knowing he got her as worked up as she so easily did him.

He turned away from her to bend down and arm the trap on the weapons. He’d spent an hour the day before laying out and concealing all the wires below them. If anyone tried to pick one up now, a simulated explosion would go off that was guaranteed to trigger a kill. It had been something to occupy his mind at the time; he wasn’t completely sold on Jane’s assertion that the upper cohort suspected where they were. But with one making his or her way up to the pass, maybe he’d get another passive kill after all.

Jane was standing by the entrance to their cave with her pack already over her shoulder by the time he straightened from setting the weapons trap. “Here,” she said with a smile, holding his pack out to him.

He joined her, taking it and slinging it over his assault rifle shoulder. Even if they couldn’t get the entire cohort today, the two of them could hide and survive the night with what they had. They would make it to the end.

They turned left out of the cave instead of the usual right. The path took them up higher for a twisting kilometer before they stopped behind a jutting outcrop of stone. Garrus pulled his sniper rifle over his shoulder to peer through its optics and scan the valley below from the sheltering cover. Jane crouched next to him and flipped through the different camera views on her omnitool.

“It’s just one up here,” she said. “Looks like the rest are spread out around the valley, although two are pretty damn close. I can only find three other ones, though.”

He spared a glance at her and didn’t bother to control his subvocals as they vibrated appreciatively at her frustrated expression. Her eyebrows pinched together, the skin between them furrowing in consternation as she searched for the last senior. Such weirdly expressive folding of a person’s skin shouldn’t be so attractive, but there she was in all her endearing glory.

He shook himself and returned to his scope, aiming his weapon back at the entrance to their cave. They’d had some damn good nights in there in the last couple weeks. Shame to have to let it go. Shame she had to leave, really. And the biggest shame of all was that she wasn’t a turian. He’d be letting himself get really attached if she were. He’d already stopped himself several times from preening like a juvenile for her.

Friends. They could be friends. His father would pull Garrus’ spurs off if he thought his son wanted more with a human. Not that he did. It didn’t matter that his dad was good friends with that human Alliance officer, Alec Ryder, or that Garrus had been told off several times to keep his twins and Solana occupied when they came for a visit. Scott had been nice enough, but their dad had called Sara a “little hellion.” Garrus assumed that was bad, and it seemed to fit. He had to keep her away from Sol, or Sara would inevitably do something that made her cry.

And Castis Vakarian certainly didn’t need to know that Garrus was having sex with a human. Lots of sex. Garrus thought he could easily become addicted to sex with Jane. He might already be. Memories of her softness writhing against him rose unbidden in his mind, and he felt the heat in his groin increase another degree. She let him all the way in every time. No hesitation, no reluctance. And she let him taste her, let him give her pleasure with his tongue!

Spirits, he needed to stop thinking about this before he started chafing in really uncomfortable ways against his armor. Besides, it didn’t mean the same thing for humans as it did for turians. He was overthinking it, giving it too much weight.

There! Their lone scout had found the mouth of the cave. Garrus might have been able to hit them from their perch almost a kilometer away, but he didn’t trust this sniper rifle at this range. This low-level Mantis had been adequate at 500 meters or less, but he didn’t trust anything at the longer distances that he hadn’t had a chance to put some personal mods on, rather than the limited tinkering he’d been able to do in the training facility armory.

Besides, there was a much better surprise waiting inside the place that had been a pleasant refuge for almost two weeks.

“Showtime, Jane,” he said, looking back at her and flaring his mandibles. She looked up and matched his happy expression with her own grin. “Got one at the cave entrance.”

He swiveled back to look down his scope in time to see the other turian raise a hand to his helmeted ear. “Looks like he’s reporting the location in to base,” Garrus muttered. Their omnitools beeped again and he checked it quickly. “Crap, two more at the base of the pass.”

“Wonder if he’ll wait for back-up to go in,” Jane said.

“I would bet good credits that these five sent out to scout are in the bottom half of those left,” Garrus said, shaking his head. “You and I would order a scout not to enter without back-up, but this Atticus seems perfectly willing to sacrifice his lesser pawns.”

“Such a weird way to train officers,” Jane mused. “You should be training to work as a team, not to function under a dictatorship that’s willing to sacrifice your life for nothing.”

“It’s not how most turians think, I’m afraid,” Garrus said. “Our imperial anthem is called Die for the Cause for a reason. Devotion to your platoon, to society? It’s all expected of you.”

“I’m damn lucky you’re my partner, then,” she said. “You don’t fall for that nonsense.”

Garrus cleared his throat awkwardly. He would definitely not be showing her his battle playlist that he kept on his visor. Die for the Cause was probably his most frequently played song.

“I mean, the imperial anthem is pretty catchy. Very grandly operatic,” he said. “But, no, I don’t ascribe to the idea that if one turian is still standing, we win. What kind of a victory would that be when everyone else is dead?”

“We call that a Pyrrhic victory,” Jane said. “It’s a human historical reference, and it is not a compliment. Had to write a paper on it in ethics class this year. Hell, Garrus, you’d probably love the courses at the Naval Academy. You’re way smarter than I am.”

Garrus ignored her self-deprecating comment – she couldn’t not know how good she was, so she had to be joking – and watched the senior nod at something he heard over the radio, then brace himself and enter the cave. He couldn’t help the laughter that spilled out of his mouth. “Well, mark another point for me. In he goes.”

“He might not touch any of the weapons,” Jane protested. Garrus laughed again.

“Jane, have you ever met a turian who wouldn’t pick up—”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he was cut off by the distant low boom of his trap going off. The simulated explosives didn’t have any kinetic power, but their auditory simulacrum was on point.

“Scratch one,” he said smugly.

Jane punched his shoulder. “Shut up, Vakarian. You sound like a dork.”

“Yeah? Well, this dork is now in the lead.”

“Not for long.”

They had to scramble down the back way to get away from the cave before the casevac or the other seniors showed up. It was a gizzard-dropping single pace away from 300-meter cliffs in some places, but it was relatively safe in that they were pretty sure the upper cohort didn’t know about it.

Garrus gasped in relief when they finally tumbled out along a stream in the valley floor. He’d gained significant endurance while inhaling Jane’s dust on those frequent fourteen kilometer runs that Meritus liked to send them on, but he would never be good at distance running. No turian would. He thought this might even be the peak condition of his life as far as aerobic stamina was concerned. He would certainly never run this much on his own voluntarily.

Jane waved him over to where she already crouched by the streambed and filled her water bottle. She’d already pulled out a disinfectant tab and dropped it in the opening by the time he flopped down beside her, still heaving for air.

“I need to have enough energy to make it through the day, Jane,” he gulped.

“Ha, that was nothing,” she dismissed. She pushed another dextro ration bar into his hands. “Drink water and eat up. And stick a stim in your neck before we head out if you think it’s really bad. Not yet, though. Need to sort out what they’re up to before we make our next move.”

“I know, I know. So bossy,” he said. They’d found the stims inside each of the dextro rations but he had recommended saving them for their final push instead of using them any earlier. He knew the concoction wouldn’t be as effective for Jane as it was for him, but at least the caffeine in it would give her a boost when the time came when they both needed it.

He pulled his water bottle out of the top of his pack and chugged the rest of it down. He chased it with a bite of ration bar before moving to refill it. She wordlessly handed him a disinfectant tab that she already had out for him. She grinned as their eyes met.

“Bossy is just the way you like it,” she said, laughing.

“You know that turians are brought up to follow orders really well. I’m just an exceptionally good turian,” he replied, one mandible going out in his version of a smirk.

“No, you’re not.”

“Eh, you’re probably right. I don’t like following bad orders. But your orders? In bed?” he asked. “Definitely worth following.”

“Shut up, Vakarian,” she ordered. But the red flush that stole across her cheeks let him know he had her flustered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. Score another point for Vakarian. When it came to her, he’d take all the points he could get.

Chapter Text

Three of the other four scouts had converged on the cave, but the ones left in the base were still hiding. They didn’t know how many were in there, but it probably wasn’t more than ten.

Jane tapped her thumb against her lips and tried to think. If they didn’t come out for the scouts finding their cave, she wasn’t sure what would draw them out. The only thing she could think of was ambushing the scouts when they came back down from the cave, but there was no guarantee they would come down in only one direction.

“Want to wager on which direction they’ll come down?” she asked Garrus. He seemed to be mostly recovered from their mad scramble. Even if turians couldn’t do long distance well, their recovery rate was good, and he was in excellent shape after the last couple months of running.

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “If you don’t know that our back way has a split that takes a turn downwards again, you would think that it just leads further up into the mountains. We had time to explore, but they’re probably frantic to find us and won’t bother since they’ve only got one more day after this. I would bet they don’t even try it.”

It was sound logic, and she had to mostly agree with the assessment. “But surely they’ll realize that we didn’t come down the direct way.”

“We cleaned up pretty well, Jane,” he said. “It didn’t even look like we stayed there last night.”

They had packed up everything but the weapons and their sleeping bags last night. Everything they’d come in with was in the packs at their feet, so he was probably right on that one.

 “Want to set up an ambush then?” she asked him. “The three that are up at our cave should be coming back down soon.”

She loved that he didn’t hesitate before agreeing. “I’m sure we can get in place before they get back to the valley floor. We’re out of explosive sims, but we don’t need that for three of them.”

She picked up her rucksack to sling it over her shoulder, giving Garrus a grin as she settled it into place. “Then let’s go surprise them when they come back down,” she said. “I bet I get all three before you can tag any of them, Vakarian.”

“In your wildest dreams, Shepard,” he said, rolling his eyes as he picked up his own pack. “You’re just upset I’m in the lead.”

“You won’t be for long.”

It took them a while to work their way around the base of the mountain to the other side of where the trail let out. Garrus huffed noisily in her wake but kept an eye on his omnitool for when the scouts came back out of their cave. Shepard hoped they wouldn’t try to explore too deeply. She had a healthy respect for caves, and neither she nor Garrus had gone beyond the first chamber except for water. She had no idea how complex the cave system was and wouldn’t have dared explore without better equipment.

“They’re coming back out,” Garrus called. “One, two….and three. Looks like they’re carrying the first scout. They’ll probably have to bring him down here; the casevac shuttle doesn’t have any place to land up there.”

“Shit,” she swore. “Do you think our ambush will be ruined by the casevac?”

Garrus glanced up at the sky. Trebia was just above the low mountains to the north, splashing the sparse clouds with a silver glow as she started her brief journey to skim the horizon. He shook his head. “It should have been here by now.”

Shepard activated her own omnitool to watch the scouts struggle down the path. Only some of it was captured by the camera they’d set up over the cave mouth, but it was enough to see that it was slow going for them. She figured they had at least twenty minutes to set their ambush as she shut her omnitool off.

“Let’s get into position,” she said.

There weren’t too many trees in this elevated area, but there were plenty of boulders. She watched Garrus settled down about three hundred meters away from where the path from the mountains let out into the valley. He’d found a decently large boulder at the same relative elevation to the path that had a depression in the top. He sank into it like it was a nest, only his head, shoulders, and the barrel of his sniper rifle visible. If she hadn’t watched him hunker down and knew where to look, she would have never spotted him.

“I’m set, Jane,” he said quietly over their comm link.

“Acknowledged,” she muttered. She moved around, sliding from boulder to boulder as she looked for just the right spot. Ah, this one would do. She got herself set in a kneeling position behind a small boulder that was at a nearly 90-degree angle from Garrus’ spot with the path at the vertex. Perfect line of sight.

They didn’t have to wait much longer for the scouts to appear. “I’ll hit the one bringing up the rear,” Garrus said softly in her ear.

“And I’ll hit the one in the front as soon as you do,” she replied. They could joke about who was going to take more of them out all day, but when it came time to actually perform the assault, she knew they’d both give up their imaginary points in the game to get the job done. This wasn’t remotely like their attack on the base.

Of course, that meant that she just had to be quick enough to hit the second guy to make it even again.

The jolt of adrenaline that flooded her body as the first turian came into sight down the curve of the footpath was just as sweet as usual, the rush narrowing her focus and bringing all her senses into bright sharpness. It was the addicting sensation that she savored the most during battle.

The first turian had his rifle up, cautiously swinging it from side-to-side as he scanned the open field of boulders in front of him. A second appeared with two turian feet in his hands. Good, he wasn’t holding a weapon that way, and if the third turian had the hapless scout’s head, the second turian might instinctively try to help when the top half dropped.

She watched from her concealed position as all four turians came down off the path, the lead turian’s eyes constantly on the move. She was surprised he hadn’t spotted her yet, but he was looking the other way. C’mon, Vakarian, she thought impatiently. Much longer and she was going to shoot first.

Just as the lead scout’s head swung back in her direction, when she swore his gaze was a bare meter from her, the crack of a sniper rifle rang out and the trailing turian cried out and fell. The first turian made his final error when he turned to see what happened instead of taking up a defensive posture; Garrus had let them get just inside her range, and Shepard’s shotgun round took him cleanly in the side as he turned. His motion continued when his armor locked around him, and he twisted as he fell to fall flat on his front.

Ouch, she thought in sympathy.

No time for anything more than that. She threw up a barrier and biotically charged into the final turian, who was still trying to figure out how to hold on to his companion – a lost cause at this point – and draw his weapon. She collided into him with enough force to send him flying, his half-drawn assault rifle clattering onto the ground next to the frozen form of the scout who’d initially fallen for Garrus’ weapons trap.

Three sets of armor sparked in furious silence as the quiet settled over the boulder- and body-strewn hill. Shepard surveyed the scene with satisfaction before uttering, “Now we’re even again.”

Garrus sounded just as confident as ever when he returned with, “Just makes the end more—”

His voice was lost in a sudden, violent biotic explosion. Shepard found herself on her hands and knees, frantically shaking her head to try to clear the ringing in her ears and the blurriness in her vision. Her hands pawed uselessly at the ground as they struggled to retrieve her shotgun from where it had fallen.

My barrier, she thought desperately. My barrier discharged. Weapon. Have to get weapon back up.

Other thoughts tumbled through her hazy brain like dice in cups.

Not just barrier. Impact. Shot. I was shot.

“Jane!”

Dice were the sounds of the street and the gang. If you got caught rigging your dice on the streets, you were usually never seen again.

The fifth scout.

“Hang on, I’m coming!”

The cops might find your body with bullet holes down by the shore if you were lucky. It meant you probably hadn’t suffered too much.

Trap. For us.

The echo of a single round rang out over her, then another. It was a familiar boom that reassured her racing thoughts. A flanging turian grunt came from somewhere behind her, then the thrashing sound of booted digitigrade feet sprinting away. Another shot chased the steps, and they stuttered but didn’t halt. A fourth boom, and the steps continued until they were out of her hearing.

She had lost her perception of time; it was measured in movements now. She took a breath in, then let it out. That was one movement. She got to five before a more familiar stride crashed into her hearing: the firm swish-swish-swish-swish of Garrus’ distinctive sprinting rhythm that the slight turnout of his right foot gave him. She didn’t realize she’d memorized it until she felt her heart rate drop at the comfort of his presence.

“We’ve been rigging our dice,” she mumbled. “Trap to the trap.”

“Those words make sense, but not together,” he grunted in her ear as he hoisted her up. She was heaved upright with her shotgun thankfully in her hands. She wasn’t sure when she’d managed to grab it again, but she held it close against in her body in the best version of the low ready that she could manage.

“Just get me out of here,” she hissed through clenched teeth. She’d been trained to deal with her biotic barrier exploding, but this had been particularly vicious, and she hadn’t been expecting it.

“I tagged him, but apparently not hard enough to disable,” he groused in her ear as he towed her along. “Spirits, that other guy wasn’t exaggerating about his combat ability. Moved like a hanar on red sand.”

Shepard shook her head at the metaphor and let Garrus haul her like a useless sack of shit. “Think that was Atticus?”

But for his heavy breathing, Garrus was silent.

“Yeah, definitely Atticus,” Shepard mumbled.

“Maybe,” Garrus said.

“Let’s regroup and rest,” Shepard said. Her feeling in her legs was starting to come back. Her stumbling steps steadied as her feet began to find the curves and slopes of the terrain on their own.

She almost startled out of her armor when a shuttle screamed by a scant thirty meters off the deck, the screeching throb of its engine rattling her bones.

“Casevac,” Garrus muttered, squeezing her wrist reassuringly. He had one of her arms over his shoulders with her wrist in his hand, his other arm wrapped around her waist with supportive pressure.

Her brain still felt like it was stuck somewhere five hundred meters behind them, but a subconscious warning of danger tingled like a current under her skin. “Garrus,” she gasped, “go without me. He’ll hunt us, remember? Just hide me and go. I’ll slow you down.”

“No.” His immediate response tore from his mouth like a reflexive cry of pain. He seemed to recenter himself with several steady breaths before he continued.

“No. I won’t leave you,” he said firmly.

“You have to,” she insisted. “You drove him off because you surprised him. He’ll be back. Just put me down against a tree trunk or something. And go.”

She tried to throw as much force behind that as she could, but all she got was a dismissive snort in response. “Garrus,” she said, trying not to sound desperate. “I was overconfident. He laid that trap perfectly for us. He knew we’d never be able to resist an ambush on the way back down. He’ll circle back and get in a good position, then he’ll take us both out.

His frustrated hiss told her that her logic was starting to work. Encouraged, she continued. “You’re hampered by me. I’m not going to make it. I’ve got the biotic tingles from whatever he did to take down my barriers.”

“That a technical term?” he asked dryly, continuing to pull her along.

“Nah, but I’d put good credits on that being warp ammo he hit me with. Where he got it, I have no idea. But it’ll take me out of commission for a while. Leave me here and do whatever you have to do to survive.”

“That an order?” he asked. His voice was fierce, but she knew him well enough by now to hear the fear in his underlying flanging. Their steps slowed as his head drooped. They were surrounded by thick trees now; there would be plenty of places for her to conceal herself.

“Does it need to be?” she asked gently.

They continued to slow in their flight through the woods. They’d nearly stopped by the time his mandibles hit his cowl and he said, “Yes,” in the most miserable tone she’d ever heard out of him.

“Then it is. Leave me.” His face turned to nuzzle into the side of her helmet as he let out a breath. “That’s an order, Vakarian. Leave me.”

“I…don’t think I can,” he admitted, his voice low.

“You can. Survive, you idiot. And thus confound our enemies,” she said. She hoped her voice brokered no opposition. “I didn’t make it this far just to see you fail because of me in the end.”

“You’re the reason for my success, Jane,” he said softly, “not my failure. The failures are all mine.”

“They will be if you don’t get the fuck out of here,” she said, wrenching her wrist out of his grasp and shoving him away. Her lack of grace as she tripped a few steps away from him confirmed that she wasn’t in the shape she wanted to be in, but that was why he needed to run.

“Run, you idiot,” she said in the best imitation of his hiss.

“Jane, I—”

“RUN.”

He started to turn away from her but turned back after only a second to shove her down into a hollow at the base of the nearest tree. He started pulling forest detritus over her, piling leaves and branches – ouch, even a few rocks – to conceal her in the shelter between roots.

“Stay quiet,” he ordered. “Stay hidden. I’ll come back for you.”

“Don’t—”

“I’ll come back for you when it’s clear,” he said, his voice rich with anger. “I don’t want to leave you. So give me this. Dammit, Jane, give me this.”

“Okay,” she said meekly. She couldn’t believe she’d given in so easily. It was probably her biotic exhaustion; that had been a hell of an explosion.

His helmeted forehead tapped against hers once, their breathing synchronizing for one achingly perfect moment before he vanished into the forest.

She ripped her helmet off as soon as he’d disappeared, pulling air into her lungs in desperate, raged breaths. She let the panic of her situation consume her for just a moment before she sternly schooled it back down. Steady, Shepard, steady.

She refocused her attention on her helmet, digging into it to pry the earpiece out, then the mic. They reattached together to work as an independent piece of hardware that would still be linked to Garrus’ comm channel. She needed to reassurance of it like she needed the oxygen she gulped down. Her breathing only fully calmed when she had the makeshift thing seated in her ear. He hadn’t switched it off, so his heavy breathing as he ran came in clearly.

He was okay. He was going to be okay. He would make it out.

She settled down into the bracken to wait.

----<>----

She must have drifted off to sleep, because the faint singing of insects woke her. Trebia was setting, and the native creatures were out to perform their usual concert to soothe her to her rest. Shepard smiled at the idea of an arrayed group of tiny dextro bugs aligning themselves in harmony to ease a setting sun.

The darkening twilight was peaceful. It must have been several hours for Palaven to be at this point relative to her star; maybe Garrus would be back soon?

She realized that she’d woken because there was a movement in the underbrush. The melodic drone of the insects didn’t stop as she strained to listen for it.

Garrus? she hoped but didn’t dare utter aloud.

She knew why.

“Found you,” a low flanging voice taunted.

She didn’t even see the fist that struck her face so precisely and pushed her back into the unconscious blackness.

----<>----

Shepard’s return to consciousness the second time wasn’t nearly as easy as the first. Her first thought was how much her head ached. Her second was that the cold breeze caressing her face helped, as did the darkness.

It only took a moment for her to realize that meant that her helmet was off and she was outside. She tried to make her eyes fly open, but they responded as sluggishly as her thoughts.

“Garrus,” she whispered, almost involuntarily. Was he okay?

“Yes,” a voice said in her ear, making her body thrash. It was not a nice voice, the normally harmonic flanging a discordant series of notes. “Garrus. You’ve been calling for him in your sleep.”

“Sleep?” she tried to mock, but she knew her voice was too unsteady for it. “More like beaten into unconsciousness.”

“Yessss,” came the responding purr. Garrus’ purr sent shivers of arousal through her belly. This one sent shivers of fear down her spine.

She finally managed to blink her eyes open so she could see where she was. It was dark, but there was enough ambient light for her to see trees and rocks and…the sloping ground of the draw that led straight into the seniors’ compound. She’d been by that big rock over there enough to recognize it. She’d sheltered behind it while Garrus did his Infiltrator work to set up their cameras.

And they’d buried their Big Damn Bomb just over…there.

She flicked her eyes towards the spot without moving her head. The dirt didn’t look any more disturbed than how they’d left it. Oh, absent gods, that was a relief! Garrus could set that off and this would be done.

“I just need to lure your pathetic little partner out,” the voice added. “This Garrus needs to learn.”

“Learn what?” Shepard asked. It was almost reflexive curiosity, but mostly instinctive defiance. She’d always been bad with instinctive defiance.

Her breathing choked off as she felt three very particular points of pain on her neck. The world washed into a sharper focus as the adrenaline pumped through her – jeez, how many times was that today? – and she realized she was propped up on her feet by an arm around her waist – he dares?! she thought momentarily – and three talons at her throat.

“Needs to learn that humans are a dead end. Your pathetic species only survived because the Council willed it so.” The voice had turned angry now. “We would have wiped you out as you deserved.”

Ah, the First Contact War. Well, it had to come up some time. She knew she didn’t have a chance of talking him out of that particular belief, so she bypassed it.

“Garrus didn’t have a choice about me being his partner,” she said. She swallowed cautiously, feeling out how hard his grip was on her throat. Very hard, it seemed.

“He should have sabotaged you like a good turian,” the voice snarled in her ear.

“Look, Atticus,” she said conversationally. “It is Atticus, right? I think you have the wrong impression of humans.”

“I assure you, I don’t,” he said. “I hope your partner is listening. I let you keep your comm device just so he could hear this.”

Shepard wasn’t in good enough shape to feel the thing in her ear, but she quieted her breathing and listened. A very faint echo of breathing sounded on one side. Garrus!

“I think you jostled it loose,” she said conversationally. “I’m not sure if he can hear us or not.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, human?” he hissed. But he cinched his talons just a millimeter closer against her throat and let go of her waist to reach up and reseat her earpiece. She didn’t have enough time to react before his arm was around her again.

But Garrus’ breathing was steady and clear in her ear now.

“Set it off,” she said. His breathing hitched.

“I know you can hear me, boy,” Atticus snarled in her ear. “Shoot me, and I’ll make sure my talons pierce her throat as I fall. Make a move, and her blood spills over me. She’s dead if you don’t surrender.”

“Don’t, Garrus!” she cried, but the talons pierced her skin and her voice cut off with a gargle. Garrus’ breathing in her ear was reaching a frantic pitch.

“Jane,” he whispered.

He had to be in a good position to see what was going on. Shepard’s brain went into overdrive trying to find some combination of words to demand Garrus set off the bomb. Atticus is going to actually kill me if I can’t manage this, she thought desperately.

Garrus’ panicked breathing in her earpiece snapped her back from her own fear. She could do this. She could find the words to say to make him set it off. She was a willing sacrifice. He had to see that!

Sacrifice. What was it that Kryik had said about sacrifices? It had been to Pylinax and Vorinus, but she and Garrus had been right there and listening.

She couldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t nod reassuringly at him. She couldn’t stroke his mandible and tell him it was all going to be all right. But she could speak the words to make this right.

“I am a sacrifice, and sacrifices are a gift,” she said softly. “For a gift to be worth anything, you have to accept it. It takes just as much courage to accept a sacrifice as to make it. You have the courage. Accept me, Garrus.”

Atticus started laughing in her ear, but the slightly unhinged hitch in it couldn’t drown out the rhythm of Garrus’ breathing as it calmed, his tension audibly easing. She held on to that steady beat like a lifeline. Yes, breathe, Garrus, she silently urged him.

“Accept you?!” Atticus laughed, his flanging voice a grating presence in her ear that was somehow worse than his sharp talons biting into her throat. “Who would accept—”

—you, she imagined he’d intended to finish, but the loud roaring explosion cut off his taunting words. It muffled her hearing, blurred the sight of the world around her, everything gone off the scale of her perception for a moment. She felt her armor lock as she fell, her vision coming back just in time to see the ground rushing up to meet her.

Oh, shit , she thought in the brief moment of despair before impact, her thoughts involuntarily flashing back to the unfortunate turian she’d shot at the start of this godawful day. This is going to hurt.

Chapter Text

The first thing Shepard became aware of when she fought back to consciousness – for the third time? – was the silence. It felt strange to exist in silence after the constant noise of being out at the training site for the Forge. There had always been wind in the trees, the sound of insects singing, the rushing water of their cave, the steady thrum of Garrus’ breathing and subvocals as they snuggled together for warmth during the night. She’d hardly been aware of it at the time, but the silence almost squealed in her ear like radio feedback in contrast.

And damn did her head ache. Maybe that was actually tinnitus ringing in her ears? She forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly to try and clear the cobwebs out of her brain. The room she was in was blessedly dark; only a faint ambient light came from behind her, and it illuminated the familiar outlines of a hospital room. She recognized the furniture instantly from their visit to Taris. She lay in the bed that was centered on the wall. A small table and two chairs were opposite her by the door, and cabinets of medical equipment and supplies lined the wall to the right of her. She wondered if her room was close to his. She hoped not, because she really wanted him to have been released.

Speaking of turians, where was her partner? She didn’t think he’d let her out his sight after the way their field time had ended. Wherever he was, she hoped he was getting the recognition he deserved. She was so proud of him for following through on that finish! She hoped he hadn’t had to mop up too many extra combatants on his own. She was sure he’d done fine if he had.

Her eyes drifted to her left and settled on Garrus – ah, there he is, she thought with hazy relief – who leaned back in a padded chair at her left side with his eyes closed. She watched him breathe evenly, the sound of it so faint that she wasn’t surprised she hadn’t heard it before. She let herself enjoy a brief moment of aesthetic appreciation for the sweeping lines of his face – his colony markings really were quite lovely, even if she didn’t have much idea what they were meant to represent – before murmuring his name softly. He didn’t stir.

“Garrus,” she repeated a little louder. His eyes snapped open to meet hers, and she didn’t miss the way his face seemed to relax in relief.

“Jane!” he exclaimed, simultaneously rocking forward in the chair to seize her hand. “You’re awake! Thank the spirits! I was so worried.”

She thought she was going to blush at his concern, but her face thankfully kept itself under control. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked. “Not the first time I’ve gotten a concussion, and it surely won’t be the last.”

“Maybe so,” he said, “but it’s the last time I want to be the one that gives it to you.”

“I ordered you to do it,” she reminded him.

“I didn’t have to listen!” he objected. “I could have seriously hurt you! You were practically standing on top of the simunition bomb.”

“What would have been worse: my concussion, or that guy’s claws ripping my throat out?” she asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Talons,” Garrus corrected, almost absently, “and he never would have.”

“It sure felt like he was going to from where I was standing,” Shepard disputed. “I know you must’ve been well inside the range for your sniper rifle. Why didn’t you just get him while he was monologuing?”

“What?” Garrus asked. “I don’t think that translated right.”

Shepard sighed and shook her head. “I’m going to get you a list of human idioms and we’re going to have to compare them to turian ones. I’m sure we can improve our translator programs, because I seem to understand most of yours. There’s a bunch of old cartoons I used to like watching when I was a kid, and that’s from one of them. You know, while he was making his threats? He was monologuing.”

Garrus matched her head shake with one of his own.

“Grandstanding?” Head shake. “Extemporizing? But in an obnoxious way?”

“Oh, that one comes through just fine,” he said.

“Shit,” she said, “I think I’ll try to learn your language just to cut down on these issues.”

“I don’t think you could reproduce its sounds,” he said seriously.

Shepard squeezed his hand and didn’t bother to cover her grin. “I was joking, Garrus.”

“Oh,” he said, his head dropping in chagrin.

“We’ll get better at this, big guy,” she reassured him. “We’re not going to stop being friends, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, gazing at the hand he held as he swiped his thumb over her knuckles. “And I didn’t have a good angle. I was downslope and worried about hitting you. He was already in place with you by the time I got there.”

She wondered if she should point out the blindingly obvious to him. “Uh, Garrus?” she started.

“I know,” he cut her off, a bitter note in his voice. “I ended up blowing you up anyway, so it didn’t really make a difference in the end.”

“I mean, you could have just knee-capped me,” she pointed out. “Although, I think that would have just pissed Atticus off. I would have dropped out of the way for you to take a shot, but he might have followed through on his threat. And then I’d be actually dead instead of just simulated dead.”

Garrus looked back up to lock eyes with her, his gaze intense. “I didn’t have a way out without getting you hurt.”

“Or killed,” she agreed with a shrug. “I’m still here, so I think you did just fine.”

“But I killed you in the exercise! And I knocked you out for real!” he protested. “Not much of a friend.”

“Garrus,” she said gently, “sometimes you have to make sacrifices. I told you I was willing to be one, and you accepted that, right?”

His eyes dropped again before he nodded.

“Just remember to think of it as a gift. Like Captain Kryik said, a gift doesn’t have any worth if you don’t accept it. You really want to tell me that I have no worth?” she asked, trying to put levity into her voice.

“No,” he mumbled, squeezing her hand. He still didn’t look back up.

“Garrus, I’m fine,” she said firmly. “And I’m going to continue to be fine. I’m proud that you finished everything. Hell, while I’m at it, I’m proud of myself for helping get you there. And you should be proud of yourself, too. Now, tell me what happened after I got knocked out! I seem to have been out for a while if we made it all the way back to base.”

“They sedated you,” he said. “Said they wanted to be sure you’d be okay before they woke you up. That field medic may have some experience with humans, but she isn’t familiar with your brain chemistry. She was concerned that you lost consciousness and didn’t want to take any chances. Turians don’t usually get…what did you call it? ‘Knocked out?’ You’ve been asleep since yesterday.”

“It’s not good for my brain,” Shepard admitted, “but I’ll be okay. And I can get treatment when I get back to Earth.”

She abruptly felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. Earth. She’d be going back to Earth soon. If it was the next day, that meant today would have been the last day of the Forge and tomorrow…

Tomorrow she’d board a transport ship for Earth.

“Fuck,” she whispered, “I’m leaving tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he said woodenly.

“I’d forgotten,” she said. “All I could think about was what challenge they could possibly come up for us next that we wouldn’t knock out of the park as a team.”

She knew that had to have been mangled by the translators, too, but he didn’t comment on it. “We start academics tomorrow,” he said, his voice low. “We’ll go through a battery of testing, and then it’s almost all classroom time until we go back to the Forge in a few months as the senior cohort ourselves.”

“And I’ll be back to slogging my way through my next semester at the Naval Academy,” she said. She knew it sounded morose, but she couldn’t help it. Being here had been more than just finding a fulfilling battlefield partnership with her one-time-nemesis; being here had been fun. She fit in with her turian classmates far better than she did with her human ones at the academy. Especially the one that had her hand in a death grip right now.

“You’ll do great,” he reassured her.

“And so will you,” she returned, “but I hope you’re good at keeping up long distance correspondence, because I’m sure that I’ll be terrible at it. Never had to make the effort before.”

“I’ll make sure we keep in touch,” he promised. “This would be so much easier if you were turian.”

She laughed at the idea. “Well, yeah, but we probably would have never met.”

“At least I’d know what to do if you were turian,” he muttered.

Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? she wondered. She was about to ask him when the door to her room opened and they released each other’s hands. Being physical in private or in front of their friends was one thing, but she knew they both would be embarrassed if they got caught in any public displays.

Fortunately, it was Captain Kryik that entered and not some anonymous doctor that might judge them for being abnormally close for a human and a turian. He already knew what they did and didn’t seem to care.

“Hope you’ve got that commendation that you promised,” she told him with her best cheeky grin.

“It’s already filed with the Alliance,” he assured her. “Though I feel obligated to mention that your liaison officer asked if it was an administrative error. I assured her you’d performed above standard and earned every word of it.”

Shepard ducked her head and her grin turned into a genuine smile. Despite his initial foreboding attitude, Kryik had been beyond fair with her. Maybe even a little unfairly favorable, if she was being honest; she wasn’t sure she and Garrus would have reached this point without his assistance, or even just his stubborn refusal to see when they broke certain rules. She’d thought all turians were in uniform lockstep with the policies and procedures, but both Kryik and Garrus seemed to choose which ones they wanted to obey. It was certainly never a trait she’d expected to find in a turian, but she could appreciate it.

“I’ll be sure to rub her nose in it when I see her again,” Shepard said. She glanced back up in time to see matching expressions on both Captain Kryik and Garrus’ faces.

“Rub…what?” Garrus asked. He and Captain Kryik shared a glance with each other, and Shepard wondered what was being communicated in their subvocals.

“Gloat. I’ll gloat a little bit,” she sighed.

“It’s not gloating if it’s earned,” Kryik said firmly. “Now, I’m here to escort you out of here.”

Shepard felt a momentary stab of panic. Wait, I can’t leave him yet! Her hand seemed to reach out and grasp Garrus’ of its own volition, and she couldn’t bring herself to rip it back away. She didn’t think he minded; he clung back just as hard.

“You’ve both earned a reward,” Kryik continued, pointedly ignoring their clasped hands. “Normally, the upper cohort gets a celebratory evening in the refectory. However, they’ll be missing out on that particular treat this cycle. Only the victors earn the right to that, so I’ll be escorting you both there personally.”

Oh, he was just here to take her out of the infirmary. She was sure the look on Garrus’ face was a level of relief that matched her own. They still had time together. A little time, at least.

----<>----

The building that Captain Kryik parked their ground vehicle at was the same nondescript gunmetal gray that she was used to from turian structures, but Shepard was curious what this “refectory” actually was. She knew what that meant in Earth Standard, but she wasn’t sure if her translator had picked up the turian word correctly. She was starving, though, so she hoped it was both what she thought it was and had levo food.

“Go on in,” Kryik said with a wave at the door. He turned back to the car to fiddle with something inside. “I’ll be along momentarily.”

She and Garrus looked at each other and shrugged in tandem. It wasn’t like they needed him to hold their hands, but she didn’t have any idea what they were walking into.

Oh, well, walking into strange places was practically her specialty at this point; if she’d survived walking into Reception and a pack of turian strangers, she could handle an unfamiliar dining facility. She and Garrus stepped off together for the door, and he fell into his usual spot at her left shoulder.

“I hope they stocked some levo alcohol for you,” he said. “And food. I bet you’re ravenous.”

“Yeah, I am,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “What is this place?”

“The base refectory,” he answered, his voice hitching up at the end in an almost-question. You don’t know what a refectory is?

“I don’t think what you’re saying is being translated exactly right,” she explained. “That just means place to eat. Like our dining hall in the barracks.”

“Oh, no, The Refectory is more than that,” he said, and she could practically hear the proper noun capitalization in his voice. “It’s sort of like a—”

The door slid open in front of them and a wall of joyful noise made them both stumble back a step. “—a bar,” he finished, though she barely heard him under the cheers. Three-fingered hands grabbed them both and hauled them inside. Someone shoved a glass into Shepard’s hand, its contents sloshing over to splash her fingers.

Her alarm settled when she realized it was a very excited Kyratus, with Justus doing the same next to him for Garrus. “It’s levo beer, I promise!” Kyratus said, his mandibles stretched as far as she thought they could go.

The cobwebs still lingering from her concussion were making things a bit hazy, but her jaw dropped in shock as she looked around. A ring of turians stood just beyond Kyratus and Justus, all clapping and hollering in excitement. There was Josinae with Vorinus, Pylinax standing just behind them. Arctus had one arm slung over Feris’ carapace, the shorter turian bowed slightly under his weight. Even Taris was there – with crutches, of course – and perched on a stool next to Hyllus next to what was most certainly a bar. That meant Vel must be around somewhere, but Shepard couldn’t spot her before Kyratus reclaimed her attention by raising his own glass.

“To Shepard and Vakarian! The best damn soldiers Reception has ever seen!” he said.

“To Shepard and Vakarian!” echoed around them.

She glanced up at Garrus, who was smiling down at her. She raised her slightly sloppy beer to him at the same time he raised his glass to her. “To Shepard, the most badass human any of us will ever have the privilege of knowing,” he said.

“To Vakarian, the best partner I could have asked for,” she returned. They both nodded at each other in acknowledgement before taking a large swig of their respective drinks.

The room was mostly silent for a moment while everyone else took a drink, but it erupted back into a cacophony of jubilant chatter the moment they’d swallowed their drinks down. Kyratus’ excited “You were both incredible!” crashed over Justus’ “Shepard, your biotics!”

Kyratus slung an arm around her shoulder to pull her through the crowd and over to the bar next to Taris. Garrus wasn’t far behind with Justus tugging him along, and they were both urged into seats. Taris nodded respectfully to Shepard. “Kyratus isn’t exaggerating,” he said, one mandible flicking out.

“For once,” Justus added, matching Taris’ mandible flick.

Kyratus put a hand over his heart and shuddered dramatically. “You both wound me! I’ll have you know I have never lied in my life. Not once!”

“I’d believe that Vakarian and I will be a Spectre duo that saves the galaxy one day before I’d believe that,” Shepard retorted with a grin.

Kyratus tapped her on the shoulder with a closed fist. “You never know, Shepard. After watching the vids for the last two weeks, I’d believe that before I’d believe a lot of other things, too.”

“The vids?” Garrus interjected to ask. Their eyes met over Kyratus’ shoulder in mutual concern. Surely, they hadn’t seen…everything.

“As soon as everyone got out of the infirmary for their cold weather injuries, Captain Kryik set us up to watch and analyze your tactics,” Taris said. “The drones captured several different angles of everything you did outside your cave. It was fascinating to watch.”

“And he brought Kyratus and Taris back,” Justus added. “Announced in front of everyone that since the rest of the cohort was getting a zero on the Forge, it didn’t make sense to kick them out, since they’d only been medivac’d a couple days before and hadn’t missed any significant events.”

“I, for one,” Kyratus said with his usual dramatic flair, “am grateful that I don’t have to apply for another slot and do the first ten weeks over again. That was quite enough for me!”

“As am I,” Taris said quietly. Despite the good news, his eyes scanned the room restlessly. Shepard immediately realized who was missing.

“Where’s Vel?” she asked, matching Taris’ visual scan.

Hyllus leaned her elbow on the bar on his other side so she could look at Shepard. “She disappeared from the infirmary. Captain Kryik just said she needed treatment somewhere else and that she wouldn’t be back.”

“What?!” Shepard yelped. “After all that?!”

Taris’ glare at the bar top was definitely a moody one as he swirled his drink in its glass. He’d sacrificed so much to make sure Vel got to continue, and she ended up gone anyway. Shepard didn’t dare utter her next thought out loud: at least the two of them got to come back. If all three had been gone, that would have been tragic, but that was probably the last thing he wanted to hear right now.

“After all that,” Taris confirmed, his voice still soft. Shepard reached out and squeezed his shoulder in silent support. He didn’t say anything, but she felt just a bit of his tension release as his shoulder relaxed under her touch. She let him go to grab her drink again.

“I’m sure you’ll see each other again,” Hyllus reassured him. “She was very, uh, certain about it before she left.”

Shepard had to choke back the chuckle that threatened to escape her mouth as Hyllus’ words brought up her memory of Vel stalking out of Taris’ hospital room. Yes, Vel had been very certain she and Taris would meet again. And a lot more. Shepard was quite certain herself that if she ever met Taris again, he’d have facial markings that matched hers. If that was even how it worked?

“Hey, Hyllus,” Shepard called out slyly, “how do these clan markings of yours work again?”

Taris looked down sharply at her, but Hyllus immediately picked up on what she was doing and answered quickly before he could say anything. “They aren’t clan markings; they’re colony markings. Although, I guess there’s a lot more clan influence than most would care to admit. The color indicates the colony, and you choose the design with your parents when you turn ten. I don’t think I know anyone who doesn’t have pieces of their parents’ design in theirs.”

“Mine is almost an exact copy of my father’s,” Kyratus said. He tilted his head at Shepard. “I was lazy.”

“And mine’s my mother’s, except in Cipritine blue instead of Aephus white. I wasn’t lazy, I just liked it,” Garrus added. Shepard couldn’t help beaming at him; she knew his relationship with his father wasn’t the best, but his mother sounded like a lovely woman.

“Mine is mostly my own design,” Hyllus continued, “but I incorporated a couple lines from my grandmother here and here. My mother didn’t leave the service when she had me, so my grandmother was the one who raised me and my younger sister.”

She glanced at Taris and her mandibles flared out in a smile before she continued. “My sister did something similar. She married a turian from Omega, and he chose something almost identical to hers when he was adopted into the clan.”

Oh, bless your wit, Hyllus! Shepard thought happily. She hadn’t even realized the woman had a former bareface for a brother-in-law.

“Just in case you were wondering how that worked, Shepard,” Hyllus said before taking a casual sip of her drink. “You know, when a clan adopts someone clanless.”

“I was curious, thank you, Hyllus,” Shepard returned, nodding and taking a sip of her own drink. “Garrus tells me that happens fairly often when a clanless turian bonds with a turian already in a clan.”

Garrus jerked his head next to her in obvious confusion; he’d never told her any such thing, but her hand quickly placed on his thigh settled him.

“Oh, yes, quite frequently,” Hyllus confirmed. “Especially if the clanless turian did something exceptionally brave.”

That was when Taris seemed to catch on to what they were doing. He looked around at each of them before he audibly grumbled.

“Or exceptionally stupid,” he muttered, but the only heat in his voice seemed to be embarrassment. “Shut up. All of you.”

“Sure thing, partner!” Kyratus said cheerfully. “Who needs a refill?”

----<>----

Excepting their tactical endeavors, this was the furthest away Garrus had been from Jane in a couple weeks, and it was making him feel a little uneasy. She was halfway across The Refectory in a deep discussion with Josinae. They were both three drinks in – thankfully levo and dextro food had made an appearance earlier or it would have gone straight to his head – and he was doing his best to pay attention to whatever it was that Pylinax was trying to say. By the other man’s subvocals, Garrus knew he’d missed a few things.

“Hmm?” he asked, forcing himself to refocus.

“I said, ‘why don’t you just tell her you want to bond and get it over with?’” the man asked, his subvocals rumbling with dry humor.

“What?!” Garrus asked, his subvocals shifting into shock. “I’m not in love with her! We’ve become great friends in the last couple months. I trust her with my life, but I certainly don’t love her! She’s human!”

“So?” Pylinax asked, his brow plates shifting up as he took a drink with a decidedly sardonic twinge in his subvocals. “That hasn’t seemed to stop you yet. The way you’re watching her…”

Garrus rumbled in frustration. “I’m just used to being on overwatch from the Forge. The habit will pass.” His shoulders shifted in discomfort; he hadn’t been without armor in weeks, either, and he felt strangely exposed.

“Sure, sure,” Pylinax said, waving a hand. “I also never said you were in love with her. I said you should just tell her you want to bond. Ryna spent several weeks trying to get you to notice her, and you never even glanced at anyone who wasn’t Shepard.”

Garrus shook his head, his subvocals expressing the confusion he felt. “Who?”

“Vorinus,” Pylinax said, leaning over to tap his glass against Garrus’. “Thanks, by the way. When she finally realized you weren’t going to see her, I was a safe place to land. My father’s has been bothering me to find a nice girl, and I think she’s amenable to the idea.”

“Uhh, that’s a thing? You can just…find your own bondmate?” Garrus asked, feeling very lost. Didn’t everyone’s parents just present their options? He knew his parents were unique for how they’d fallen in love and bonded, but everyone else he knew growing up had been offered an option or two at a time until they found one that worked. None of his military comrades had been bonded – they were all far too young – and he’d never even thought to broach the topic with his NCOs or officers.

If that was the case, how many of their friends were going to pair off, anyway? Vel and Taris had been obvious by their subvocals, but he hadn’t even picked up a hint that the set of partners in the bunk next to them was up to anything. Spirits, was Justus going to declare his love for Josinae before the night was done? Garrus did a visual sweep of the room to find that Justus was nowhere near Shepard and Josinae; he was at the bar, completely wrapped up in whatever Kyratus was saying to Taris.

Well, at least some things never changed.

“Vakarian, my friend,” Pylinax said, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling his focus back, “no one does arranged marriages anymore. What rarified rock did your family raise you under?”

Pylinax’s weight pressed against Garrus, and he had a moment of realization. Oh, he’s kind of drunk. Garrus hadn’t seen him drink more than two glasses of anything at their formal dinners, but he must have had a few more than that tonight. He’d been nice enough when he was sober, but this was a level of open friendliness that Garrus wasn’t used to. It almost made him uncomfortable, but Pylinax’s subvocals were rumbling at a genial pitch that he found hard to resist.

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s behind several gates somewhere in Cipritine. My clan always did like to keep to themselves,” he joked back.

Garrus knew he wasn’t exceptionally socially apt, and it felt flat even to him, but Pylinax didn’t seem to care. He patted Garrus’ shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, Vakarian. Shepard will drag you into the modern era, even if you’re digging your spurs in the ground!”

Movement near the door caught his eye, and he turned to see what it was. He happily ignored the fact that it prevented him from giving Pylinax any reply to his wildly off-base comment.

A turian stood in the doorway, his paleness emphasized by the contrasting light of The Refectory and the darkness outside. The washed-out whiteness of his plates was only heightened by the nighttime backdrop, and Garrus blinked at the intimidating sight. The turian’s cold gaze – Garus wanted to cringe backwards as it swung over him – revealed an odd characteristic of his fringe as his head turned. His crest was only a few long horns, but the protuberance from his cheek plates was abnormally large, matching the length of the ones on the top of his head with their elegantly sweeping lengths.

Garrus knew exactly one family that had the genetic predisposition to that characteristic. In fact, they treasured it and loudly proclaimed it as their superior heritage from an earlier time of turian evolution.

“He’s an Arterius,” he whispered under his breath. He heard Pylinax’s subvocals hitch in sudden concern next to him. The turian lacked the characteristic facial markings of an Arterius, but Garrus knew there couldn’t be any other family he was possibly from.

“Where is the human?” the strange turian hissed, his voice carrying through a suddenly silent room.

Oh, no. No no no.

The side of Garrus’ fist bumped Pylinax’s keel as he whispered, “Cover us,” fiercely in a low tone. Arterius’ eyes snapped to Garrus anyway, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of his words or the fact that he darted immediately to Jane’s side, closing the distance in mere seconds and barely registering the presence of their classmates as he threaded around them.

“Well, now he’s definitely spotted me,” Jane muttered to him. “Thanks.”

“He was always going to find you,” he snarled back, not letting his eyes leave Arterius as he started to move towards them. If that was even his name, though Garrus would have wagered his last credit on it. His grandmother held them in high esteem, and he’d been at enough social events with them to be sure. The strange lines of that crest were unmistakable. “You’re the only human in this place.”

Despite his grandmother’s volubility on the topic of the endless positive attributes of the Arterius clan, Garrus had only heard the vaguest of rumors about what happened to one of their most prominent scions. He knew it had involved humans, and it hadn’t been good. He knew another was one of the best Spectres that had ever lived, and if…oh, spirits, if this was Saren they were absolutely fucked.

“At least I’m beside you, now,” he finished, angling himself to be between her and the – oh, crap, the incredibly intimidating man – bearing down on them with singular focus.

“You’re not beside me, you’re in front of me,” she grumbled, though she made no move to change that. Good. He hoped that meant she understood the danger she was in. The pale turian barreling towards them was radiating nothing but rage and hatred in his subvocals.

“Guess we’re meeting that important cousin,” Garrus said through bared teeth.

“Yeah,” she agreed, and he could hear the tension in her voice. She’d been insistent that Atticus had been serious about tearing her throat out, and Garrus was no longer so certain she’d misunderstood. One of his hands drifted behind him so that his arm crossed over her middle. It was a protective gesture, but he knew it could turn into a restraining one if she got aggressive like he half expected she would.

Arterius was only a meter away, one taloned hand reaching out for Garrus’ own neck – spirits, he’s going to kill us both – when another turian slid in between them.

“Saren,” Captain Kryik said softly. Arterius stopped short, his arm recoiling back against his side. “What brings you here?”

“Nihlus?” Arterius asked, the menace instantly washing out of his subvocals. Garrus felt Jane twitch against his arm, one of her hands clasping at his wrist.

“Yes, Saren,” Kryik said softly. “These are my students.”

“Oh, yes,” Saren said, blinking as if the thought had just occurred to him. Then the fierce anger returned to his face as he pointed past both Captain Kryik and Garrus. “Her. She’s a griskat pit in your fields.”

“Candidate Shepard has been an exemplary student,” Captain Kryik said, his subvocals echoing the soothing tone of his voice. “I have an excellent bottling of that 2159 Cipritine red in my quarters if you’d care to take this discussion elsewhere. We can discuss the bountiful failures of Candidate Atticus in a more private venue.”

Saren’s baleful glare rapidly shifted between Garrus and Jane. “Is this the pup you’re so insistent about? The one that would be far better than my cousin?” he asked.

“Vakarian is just as exemplary as Shepard,” Kryik assured him. “And yes. He’ll make for a highly competitive Spectre candidate one day. He’s exactly what you’re looking for. And I’d be more than happy to go into Candidate Attitus’ issues away from our audience.”

Garrus’ gizzard had been roiling in fear for at least a minute now over what might happen to Jane, but it suddenly had to compete with his heart soaring at the praise. It made for an oddly disorienting sensation of simultaneous joy and fear, the joy tainted with a strong feeling of guilt. Your best friend is in danger, and that’s what you focus on? some angry inner voice asked him. It sounded suspiciously like his mother.

“The least of which,” Kryik continued, “was openly threatening our first human exchange candidate with physical injury during the Forge. I’m sure you understand the impropriety of that?”

Garrus knew Jane well enough by now to correctly interpret the noisy and emphatic huff of her breathing as a satisfied acknowledgement of something before her. Yes, there was her vindication. His guilt suddenly shifted into not quite believing her in the first place. He’d seen Atticus in action, seen him holding Jane up as a hostage with his talons at her throat. Garrus just hadn’t quite wanted to believe that someone would be so…depraved.

He drew his wrist through her hand so he could clasp it with his own in silent apology. He would ask for forgiveness later, but the threat of a potentially violent Spectre remained. Sprits, Garrus couldn’t believe a Spectre would even act this way! They were supposed to represent the ideals of justice and virtue! He could hardly believe the man in front of him was one, even though Captain Kryik had called him Saren. Garrus knew the names of every turian Spectre, and Saren Arterius was practically legendary.

Arterius held Garrus’ gaze, and he braced himself under the man’s piercing glare. He clenched his teeth, his mandibles held tightly against his face while he forced determination into his subvocals. He would not move for this man. Would not. He would stand between Jane and whatever threatened her, including one of the most dangerous men he’d probably ever meet. After all, Arterius wasn’t legendary for talking the Council’s enemies to death.

To his surprise, Arterius broke off with a short bark of laughter, though it sounded dark and unamused. “Well, he has spirit, I’ll give him that. Questionable friends, but spirit. Loyalty. Good family. Maybe he’ll do in time.”

“He will, I assure you,” Kryik said smoothly. “Now, about that ’59?”

“Yes, yes, Nihlus. Take me where you please,” Arterius said, turning away from them and waving a hand. “I needed to speak with you regardless. Show me where they have battalion commanders staying these days. You won’t be there for much longer, but it should be…entertaining.”

“Of course, Saren,” Kryik said as he escorted the man towards the door. He shot a look full of scorching meaning over his shoulder at Garrus, but he couldn’t decipher a damn thing from it. Was he upset with him? Did he want him to do something?

It wasn’t until the door closed behind the two turians that the room seemed to collectively breathe again. Garrus felt like he hadn’t had a single bit of oxygen since Arterius appeared in the doorway. He gulped in a breath before turning to Jane. Her face was still fixed on the door, her expression unreadable.

“Jane?” he said quietly. She closed her eyes for a moment before turning to him. “You okay?”

They stared at each other for a moment before she finally replied.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Can we…can we get out of here? I think I need some air.”

“Of course,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “Here, let’s go out the back way.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said absently, following him. “Maybe let’s go back to the barracks?”

“It’s whatever you want, Jane,” he said. He’d do whatever she needed to feel okay after that. Spirits, the walk would probably be good for him, too. “It’s a bit of a walk. Are you okay with that? Your head feeling okay?”

“Yeah, it is. And I could stand to stretch my legs,” she said.

“Right beside you, Jane.”

“I…I know. Thank you.”

Chapter Text

They were silent for the first half a kilometer, but she didn’t let his hand go and he could feel the slight tremble in it. “I’m sorry for not really believing you,” he finally said. “About Atticus being serious about his threat to kill you.”

“Oh, that?” she said, but she didn’t look at him. “I…don’t worry about it, Garrus.”

“No, I should have believed you. I saw him, even if I didn’t have a great view with you in the way,” he insisted. “I should have realized he was serious.”

“Why didn’t you think he was serious?” Jane asked. Garrus was glad she chose that phrasing over why didn’t you believe me? He deserved the recrimination, but it would have been painful to hear coming out of her mouth.

“I just didn’t think anyone could do something like that,” he said uncomfortably. “It’s not like his career is over because we defeated him in some training exercise.”

She sighed, her fingers squeezing his. “Sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded that genuinely good people like you exist in the galaxy, Garrus. But I certainly hope his career is over now.”

“Not likely,” he snorted. He thought she’d understood better how things worked in the Hierarchy after everything he’d told her about his upbringing. “If Saren Arterius is his cousin, I’m sure this whole thing will end up buried.”

Her steps slowed at his words, and he shortened his stride to match. “Who was that guy, anyway?” she asked. He felt her shudder through her hand.

“He’s a Spectre. One of the best,” Garrus explained. “But the Arterius family is, well, a lot like mine. Same social circles, same amount of privilege.”

“And that grants you a lack of accountability for your actions?” Jane asked, her voice dry as desert sand.

“No! Well, not me, anyway. My father would never let me get away with anything, and certainly nothing like that,” he insisted. “He’s been in C-Sec for decades for good reason.”

“And Atticus?” she asked.

His mandibles squeezed tightly against his jaw; she wasn’t going to like the answer. “The Arterius clan is a lot less, ah, particular about compliance with the rules. Everyone has to succeed on their own merits, sure, but they’re shielded from the consequences of their actions when things go wrong. I sincerely doubt anything will happen to Atticus, even if he doesn’t have the Arterius clan name. I have more than a passing familiarity with them; there were a lot of girls in the previous generation, and he’s probably one of their kids. Hell, Saren has the added legal protection afforded to all Spectres, and it would hardly look good if Atticus took a fall where Saren didn’t.”

“And what legal protection is that, exactly?”

He was right: she was upset enough that she dropped her hold on his hand.

“Spectres have complete latitude for how they accomplish their mission objectives.” He flexed his hand, regretting the loss of hers. “They have blanket immunity for their actions across all Council species if their actions are to accomplish their mission, and interpretation of mission objectives can be expanded to cover an awful lot. Saren probably could have murdered us both where we stood and wouldn’t have been arrested for it.”

Jane actually stopped in her tracks at that. Menae shone brightly enough in the sky that he could make out her features clearly, though he longed for the clarity of subvocals. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she actually said anything, and Garrus thought it might be in shock.

“You’re all out of your minds,” she finally said. “Giving any one person that much power is insane. And you want to be one?!”

“Spectres are carefully screened to ensure that only the best candidates are selected!” Garrus protested. It rang a bit hollow after what they’d just witnessed of Saren. “You sound like my father; he hates the very idea of them.”

“I can see why,” Jane said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know you have your issues with him, but I think I’m with your dad on this one, Garrus.”

“Maybe…” Garrus trailed of and glanced back over his shoulder at the way they’d come. The Refectory was out of sight, but he could still feel the chill of Arterius’ cold eyes fixed on him. He wanted to be a Spectre, but he didn’t want to be that. “Maybe you and my dad are right. Maybe it is too much power to put on one person. But yes, I still want to be one. The ability to do good without artificial barriers and bureaucratic hassle…well, a lot more good can get done that way.”

Jane looked troubled, but she didn’t say anything else and started walking again. She also didn’t reach for his hand, and he wasn’t sure how to interpret that as anything except bad. He was tempted to reach out himself, but he lost his nerve for it after the first twitch of his fingers in her direction.

“Besides,” he added desperately, “the Spectres police their own. If someone goes rogue, or does something exceptionally wrong, the others take care of it. And the Council can revoke the status of any of them when it’s called for.”

“I’m sure our cooling bodies would take great comfort in those facts,” she said in a tone so deeply ironic that even he caught it easily through the translator.

“No…well, no,” he said softly, feeling like he’d lost the thread of his logic somewhere behind them in the dark.

At least he wasn’t stupid enough to try to recover with any more words, and the rest of their walk was a quiet one. He was painfully reminded of the strained silence of their first couple weeks together, and the thought lashed at him with every step.

He’d messed up somewhere, and he wasn’t sure what the error even was.

----<>----

Garrus finally had to say something to redirect her to their training facility almost twenty minutes later. Jane seemed lost in thought and walked right past the entrance. She turned back to follow him in with just an acknowledging “thank you.” She trailed behind him past the turian at the duty desk out front, his green eyes following them in silent question, though he raised no challenge at their entry. She followed him through the odd after-hours stillness of a building made for activity, but now strangely motionless.

She followed him right up to the door that led to their cohort’s section before she stopped. He turned in the open doorframe to look at her.

“This is where Captain Kryik took my amp on the first day,” she said softly. “I was terrified of facing all of you without it.”

He didn’t reply, afraid that saying something might derail her from her thoughts and stop her from sharing. Twelve weeks ago, he would have scoffed at her fear. After Atticus – and Arterius – he was starting to understand it better.

“I didn’t realize how much confidence my biotics gave me,” she continued, “until I had them taken away.”

“You could have fooled me,” he said fondly. He was pleased to see the tension in her face ease as she finally met his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with such effortless self-assurance.”

“Then it works,” she laughed, the frozen awkwardness shattering between them at the sound. “I was scared as hell, but I covered it with as much bravado and false confidence as I could. You didn’t help with how much you seemed to loathe me. I certainly wouldn’t call any of that effortless.”

He couldn’t take it any longer; he reached out to seize one of her hands with his own. “I was an idiot,” he said firmly.

“You weren’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I understand now. I could have ruined everything for you.”

“But you didn’t,” he protested. Spirits, she had to see how amazing she was, didn’t she? He could have been assigned anyone else in their cohort as a partner and probably done adequately enough to pass, but with her, he’d excelled in a way he’d never expected. She would have done just as well with anyone else she’d been assigned to, but Captain Kryik had done Garrus a huge favor to put them together.

“You are always going to be one of the most phenomenal soldiers with whom I’ll ever have the privilege of working, Jane,” he promised. “I was too stubborn to see it at first, but I’ll freely admit it now. You’re the best by far in this cohort, and I’d wager on you against almost any other turian around.”

Her hand in his squeezed back as her other clasped his wrist to pull him closer. “You don’t know how much that means to hear,” she said.

His subvocals vibrated in relief as he imitated her pull to bring them right up against each other, their arms pressed between their bodies as he tilted his face downwards towards hers. “It’s true. Every word of it.”

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice a breathless whisper. He nodded, leaning in so that his mouth hovered just above hers.

“Yeah,” he said, one mandible flicking out as his subvocals shifted into a teasing tone that he knew full-well she couldn’t hear. “But only one person came out as the victor in the Forge, and that was the incredible soldier in front of you: Garrus Vakarian.”

It took two full seconds for what he’d said to process, and he watched it all play out over her wonderfully expressive face. The pinch of her eyebrows in confusion. The widening of her eyes when she worked out the meaning of his words. The smile and genuine laughter when she realized he was teasing her.

“Well, Mr. Incredible Soldier!” she said through her snickers. “I think you’ve earned a night of whatever you want. We just need to make it to bed.”

Oh, spirits, a real bed, he almost moaned out loud. He’d spent a very uncomfortable night in the chair at Jane’s bedside for her medicated unconsciousness in the infirmary last night, and almost two weeks before that in a sleeping bag on rocky ground. He was in serious danger of falling asleep straight away if they tumbled into a bed with a real mattress, but he sternly told himself that the pleasures of staying awake would far outstrip the benefits of sleep. This was their last night together; he would curse himself for the rest of his life if he fell asleep early, even if he was three drinks in on blinding exhaustion.

Jane grinned at him as she pulled him down the hall towards the barracks. Whatever he’d said wrong on their walk seemed to be forgotten as she laughed, practically tumbling through the door with his hands clasped in her outstretched ones behind her. Whatever the reason for his reprieve, he was happy to follow in her wake.

Except then she stopped, and he almost crashed into her back in his enthusiasm. It took him a moment to spot the turian officer standing with her back to them and rooting through an open wall locker, a mostly packed footlocker at her feet.

“Hey!” Jane called out, her hands falling away from Garrus’. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He counted the bunks down the wall and realized it was the missing Galen’s locker that was being emptied. The woman turned, the captain’s rank on her shoulders catching the light. She must be packing Galen’s things for her.

“Wait,” Jane muttered, her voice suspicious. After he caught sight of the woman’s face, Garrus’ subvocals shifted to match. They both knew the face above the captain’s bars.

“Vel?” Jane asked, her voice rising with excitement. He knew she couldn’t read the rank tabs on the shoulders of the other woman’s uniform.

Garrus crossed his arms under his chest plates. “Or rather, Captain Galen. You’re already an officer?”

“Yes, I am,” she said simply, swinging her head to look them both in eyes equally.

Jane took half a step back against him before replying. “What exactly is this?” she asked, clearly baffled. Not that Garrus had any more idea of what was going on than she did.

“It’s just part of the candidacy process,” Galen explained with a sigh. “There’s someone like me in every cohort. My job is to make sure the right candidates make it through. I’m mostly here to make sure that no one was improperly recommended – and recommend removal if they were – but I also assess the cadre for Captain Kryik. Spirits, why do you think you haven’t seen Meritus in weeks? Waste of a good officer’s uniform if you ask me.”

Jane snapped her fingers, the sudden noise startling Garrus. “That’s where I’d heard the name before! Arterius called Captain Kryik by his first name. Nihlus. You called him that on our land nav course. I just didn’t realize he was who you were talking about.”

Galen’s subvocals briefly shifted to displeasure, and Garrus immediately realized it was with herself. “Yes, I slipped up there. I was lucky that you didn’t put it together.”

“I didn’t know his first name until today,” Jane said, shaking her head. Garrus’ mandibles dipped in consternation; he’d known Captain Kryik for a couple years now, and he definitely would have recognized his first name. It was a fairly unique one, given that his parents weren’t from any turian colony. The fact that he and his mother had been adopted by a small colony at all – a colony and not a clan – was a minor miracle.

“I did,” Garrus interjected. “I must not have been part of that conversation.”

Galen looked at Jane for a second before cocking her head at him. “No, you weren’t.”

A slightly uncomfortable silence fell over the three. It wasn’t the first time that night that he, a completely self-confessed socially stunted man, was well aware that he’d blundered his way into a conversational dead end. Given that he’d been happily following an enthusiastic Jane into bed less than two minutes earlier, he found himself terribly confused. Well, more confused than normal, anyway.

Galen seemed to take pity on him and pointed one finger at him, her subvocals shifting into the certainty of an officer used to her orders being followed. “Don’t you dare breathe a word about me to anyone, Vakarian. Anyone. If Nihlus hears even the slightest whisper of this, he’ll know it’s you,” she told Garrus with a fierce glare.

Though it was aggressive, at least it was something he knew how to handle. He came to a relaxed position of attention to nod and acknowledge the order with, “Yes, ma’am.”

“We almost called off the Forge,” Galen said, shaking her head. “It’s been done before, but it’s not a decision taken lightly. In retrospect, it would have been safer for everyone if we had. But, spirits, watching you two work was damn pleasure. I hope we have the opportunity for more joint military operations in the future, because it would be a crime to keep you two apart.”

Garrus felt his shoulders roll inwards on themselves in embarrassment at the praise, and he wasn’t sure what his subvocals were saying, because Galen’s shifted in curiosity at him. Thankfully, she didn’t ask him anything.

“Well, I’ll see you on the shuttle trip to orbit tomorrow, Shepard,” she said, turning back to her wall locker to begin pulling out the rest of her things. While the trunk was well-organized, she seemed a little haphazard about it as she started dumping things in. “I’m headed back to my actual assignment. Maybe I’ll run into you again one day, Vakarian.”

“What is your actual assignment?” Jane asked.

“I’m an infantry company commander,” Galen said. “We’re stationed on Digeris, but we’ve got orders coming down for a deployment for search-and-destroy on some pirate operations in the Attican Traverse. It’ll be good to get back to actual combat again.”

“Stay safe, Vel,” Shepard said. “You’ve got a pretty good guy waiting for you.”

Galen shoved the lid of her footlocker closed and latched it before turning back to face them. It was her turn for her subvocals to waiver uncertainly. “Usually, no one in a cohort finds out what happened to the person that disappears after the Reception. The frostbite was a good excuse for me to vanish, but most people don’t have that. It’s a big military, but sometimes we’ll see each other again.”

“I thought you were dead set on marrying Taris?” Jane asked.

“Bonding,” Garrus said softly to translate.

“I am!” Galen said. “I just…need to figure out a way to tell him. This, I mean. That he saved me for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing!” Garrus found himself protesting. “You’re a lot smaller than he is. That griskat could have easily killed you before we could get you out of that hole. He was lucky to only come out of it with the leg injury, but he did the right thing.”

“Garrus is right, Vel,” Jane added. “And Captain Kryik let them both back in, so he didn’t sacrifice his career for you.”

Galen snorted in amusement. “Nihlus let them back in because I bullied him into it. I’ve deferred to his authority for the last twelve weeks, but I’ll be damned if he wouldn’t give me that.”

Garrus shifted on his feet, catching an undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite name in her subvocals. What she’d done was dangerously close to both insubordination and favoritism; he could understand if she was discomfited by it.

“But you’ll make the effort to see Taris again, right?” Jane asked.

“Well, my brigade is one of the ones that regularly gets the freshly commissioned officers. Our planetside duty with regular taskings for simple deployment operations make us ideal for breaking new officers in,” Galen said hesitantly. “And I have a platoon leader position that’ll be opening in my company about the time this cohort graduates, but that wouldn’t be comfortable for either of us. Besides, it’s my infiltration platoon—” she shot Garrus an indecipherable look “—and I already have someone in mind for it.”

Jane snickered and bumped her hip against him. Surely Galen couldn’t mean him. She never seemed to have any feelings on him, positive or negative, though she had granted that he was better than she’d initially thought.

“Though there is an infantry platoon leader position opening up in one of my sister companies,” Galen said thoughtfully. “Its commander will surely be interested in my assessments of this new cohort.”

“Taris and Kyratus did score quite well until they were eliminated,” Garrus pointed out. “You know, if you need objective measures of assessment, ma’am.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, Vakarian,” she said dryly. “I’m sure my story about him selflessly leaping into a griskat pit to save me will do the trick, though.”

Garrus’ subvocals rumbled with embarrassment; of course that story would paint Taris in the best possible light.

“Someone will be by to pick this up in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll leave you two alone.”

She closed the distance between them. “See you on the shuttle,” she said, squeezing Jane’s shoulder with one hand as she brushed by.

Jane and Garrus looked at each other after the barracks door slid shut behind the turian woman. “Well,” Jane said, “guess you know where you’re headed after this.”

“Why would she want me?” he asked, feeling a little bewildered.

“You did win the Forge, Mr. Incredible Soldier,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” he said. He could feel the heat spread across his neck. Thankfully, the high collar of his uniform covered it up. Jane didn’t need to know about that particular quirk of turian evolution. He quickly pivoted to cover any embarrassment with, “Now, about that bed…”

----<>----

Jane insisted on a shower before they got in the actual bed. “I can tell someone cleaned me up while I was unconscious, but I want to be fully clean after two weeks of the grit and grime in the field.”

One of the medics had indeed sponged her off while Garrus had looked on with a moodiness that he had to suppress in his subvocals. This time, though, he let himself purr in what he hoped was flattering interest as they shared a shower nozzle again, his hands on her body seeking to give her a preview of what was still to come. They only had one night left together, and he wanted to send her back to Earth full of fresh memories of him. Mostly because he’d certainly not be forgetting her any time soon, and he wanted to at least hope that he had remotely the same effect.

“May I?” he asked when she reached for her shampoo, knowing he probably sounded painfully shy. She nodded and handed it to him, obviously curious what he intended to do. He thought it equally obvious what he planned. He squeezed a precise amount into his hand before putting down the bottle. He’d paid attention to her, so it was the same amount that she always used. She turned around without him asking her to, and he immediately rewarded her with the lightest touch of the tips of his talons on her scalp.

Her hair wasn’t quite the same texture when it was wet, but he’d been having idle daydreams about doing this for weeks now and wasn’t about to let that little fact deter him. Besides, her hair felt strangely silky this way; not in the familiar way it did when it was dry, but in a new way that he wanted to explore until he had it memorized. He wanted to meticulously catalogue everything that made her sigh.

This seemed to qualify. She seemed to slouch in front of him at the sensation of his fingers lightly working the shampoo into a lather in her hair, like he’d accidentally cut an invisible string holding her upright. He knew she liked it when he ran his fingers through her hair, but he’d definitely be adding washing Jane’s hair for her to the list of things she enjoyed. Not that this was any sort of chore for him. Spirits, he felt like he owed her for letting him!

He gently pulled her back into the shower’s spray to carefully rinse her hair, cautious not to let any of the suds wash over her face. She had them closed, but her eyes weren’t recessed behind protective plates the way his were; he imagined the soap would be a painful irritant if it got in them. Once he had the last traces of shampoo rinsed from her hair, he pulled her back out of the water to squeeze at her hair with his hands. He’d watched her purge the excess water like this before toweling herself dry, and he carefully mimicked her usual motions.

Her face was odd when she turned to face him, her eyes half-hidden by her eyebrow ridges as she looked up at him. It should have been a threatening look, but the shape of her face made it seem soft and questioning. “Want to wash my body, too?” she asked, her voice low and rough.

“Oh, spirits, can I?” he asked before he could stop himself. He hadn’t meant to sound so damned pathetic.

She didn’t answer him with words; she merely retrieved her cleaning cloth and body soap – oof, the view as she bent over to her shower basket was doing terrible things to his state of mind – and handed it to him with one of those small smiles that drove him absolutely crazy. “I’m going to miss you,” he said as he took them. He wished he hadn’t when her gaze dropped.

“But let’s pretend for tonight that you aren’t leaving in the morning,” he continued. He lathered the soap into the cloth and let his gaze sweep over her whole body. He had her shower routine memorized, and he already knew exactly where to go first.

“Pretend you’re coming with me to academic testing in the morning,” he said, reaching out with the cloth to rub his way down her left arm, taking extra care to lift and scrub gently under the place where the hard muscles and soft skin of her arm curved down into her chest. She’d said humans tended to sweat there more than anywhere else.

“Pretend we get to be fiercely competitive again,” he suggested. He mirrored his careful cleaning on her right arm. He was extra careful around the discoloration on her forearm. She’d called that bruising, and he thought it must be painful by how she winced if he grazed too hard against it.

“You’ll always outdo me in the field, but I suspect I’ll run rings around you in math class,” he teased. She glared at him as he slowly massaged the soapy cloth under her breasts, taking his time in spreading the lather evenly around. He didn’t miss the heat melting out of her gaze as the cloth roughed her puckering nipples.

“But I’ll always give you private tutoring if you want it,” he offered, dropping to his knees in front of her to work his way down her front. He shifted the cloth into one hand so he could wrap his other arm around her to pull himself tightly against her, still tracing the lines of her abdomen with the soapy cloth. His eyes were fixed decided south on his prize; he could smell her, even through the masking scent of the water and soap.

“Same as you’ve offered me,” he breathed, pushing his mouth against the skin just above the hair between her legs. She’d been oh-so-generous with her tutoring. He wanted to taste her, but he continued to gently scrub her skin, dipping down to lather soap into her hair.

“I thought Mr. Incredible Soldier was going to get whatever he wanted tonight?” she asked above him, her voice filled with amusement. He knew his eyes were filled with anything but as he looked up at her when he heard her breathing catch with a stutter.

“This. I want this,” he said earnestly. “May I?”

“You’re so damn good at it. Why would I ever tell you no? You don’t have to ask me for permission to do that, Garrus. Ever.”

His subvocals shifted into an anticipatory purr; he was going to make the most of their last night together and make damn sure she’d never forget him.

----<>----

Shepard blinked awake in the darkness of her bunk. Garrus was coiled around her with his face buried in the crook of her neck. He was purring softly in his sleep. She smiled; it was kind of like cuddling with a big, pointy cat.

A big, pointy cat that she was about to leave behind and maybe never see again.

She ignored the dropping sensation in her stomach and focused on his arms around her. She wasn’t just going to miss him; the mattress was a squishy cloud of comfort that she was loath to leave behind. Only one night back in it after two weeks in rocky caves during the Forge seemed wildly unfair. Garrus had both of his arms wrapped around her waist, but even the one looped under her back was comfortable because of how deeply it sunk in.

She wondered what time it was, and if they still had time to fool around just a little bit more. Last night was pleasantly burned into her brain, but she would happily dive back in for just another taste. She’d been woken by the quiet stirrings of their cohort, though, and she doubted they had much time before muster. Had she even set an alarm? Their field time had been a vacation from the structure of military life.

Shepard was actually impressed that some of the cohort was up and moving. She and Garrus had fallen asleep before the first ones had come back from The Refectory, and she internally applauded the devotion to duty that woke them up on time. She gently wiggled her left arm out from its trap between her chest and Garrus’ cowl to see what time it was on her omnitool.

The purring stopped. Crap, she’d woken him up.

“What time is it?” he asked, his voice in that extra low register that made her stomach do flip-flops.

She nudged the low display setting on her omnitool and groaned when the time popped up. “06:20,” she said.

“Ten minutes,” he said. “I can work with ten minutes.”

“Garrus!” she protested. “You need to get up and get ready!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, snuggling his face harder into her neck. “Or I can stay right here.”

It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to push him away from her body. She was leaving today, and he was staying. As much as she wanted to lounge in bed with him for the entire day, he needed to get up and moving. She’d gathered that the academic testing was pretty important to how they’d stratify for the rest of the course, and she’d be damned if she saw all of her hard work go to waste.

Even if the thought of sending him off without her felt like she was preparing to rip out stitches from an unhealed wound.

“Get up, Vakarian,” she insisted. “You have tests. And I won’t let you fail them because of me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled as he reluctantly peeled himself off her, rubbing at his face like he was trying to circulate blood again. She didn’t think that was how turian plates worked, but what the hell did she know? She was going to go deep-diving on research when she got back to Tokyo.

“Up, up, up,” she chivvied, following him as he slid the privacy curtain aside and rolled out of bed. She’d been right; half the cohort was up and moving. Once she was sure he was getting dressed, she turned to her locker to do the same. She glanced around as she slid it open and called out, “It sure would be a shame if anyone missed muster on test day.”

Garrus glanced at her, his mandible flaring out in amusement. She hadn’t been quiet about it, and the barracks suddenly boiled with activity as sleepy turians poured out of bunks. Hmm, Vorinus rolled out of Pylinax’ bunk and didn’t quite meet Shepard’s eye as she did so. She didn’t see where Kyratus appeared from as he wandered by with a cheerful greeting, but it certainly wasn’t Justus’ bed.

Her eyes followed Kyratus to the set of bunks he’d reclaimed with his partner, and she spotted Taris slumped on his crutches and glaring at Vel’s packed trunk. She longed to tell him that everything would be all right, but she knew Garrus would end up being the one in trouble for it. She was able to easily resist the urge.

It wasn’t long before the lights came on to full and the cadre descended on them. Fortunately, Shepard’s loud alarm meant that most everyone was in place and standing by for inspection, even if a good third of them were a little bleary-eyed for turians.

“Everyone with spurs, out the door!” one of them yelled as they circled like sharks through the room. “Omnitools in the box outside, then doubletime down the hall!”

Shepard had one moment of uncertainty as she instinctively made a move towards the door. “Spurs” had been applied to her as an insult for all of Reception, even though she didn’t have any. Was she supposed to ignore it now?

One circling instructor solved her indecision when he ducked his head down by her. “Stay put, Shepard. You’ll have an hour to pack. Someone will be by after that to get you to the shuttle.”

Garrus didn’t move from her side, and the cadre member heaved a sigh. “You have sixty seconds to say your good-byes, Vakarian.”

Instead of moving directly for the door, the members of the cohort nearest to hear circled by to tap their fists against her shoulders and quietly murmur, “Shepard” at her.

The small trickle of turians became a flood when Taris stumped his way over to her on his crutches to do the same. “Shepard,” he said, a respectful nod accompanying his deep voice.

“Shepard,” Kyratus said with a flirtatious wink.

“Shepard,” Vorinus said with respect.

“Shepard,” Pylinax said, something almost like gratitude in it.

“Shepard,” Justus said, his reverence for her biotics still evident.

“Shepard,” Josinae said, the warmth of genuine friendship in her voice.

The cadre didn’t say anything else to hurry anyone out as each member of the cohort swung by the bid her farewell in their own way. A couple of the faster ones even came back in from the hallway to join the small flood that eventually slowly drained away, leaving only Garrus standing beside her.

“All right, now you have sixty seconds,” the instructor said, turning his back to them and leaving them alone in the room. Shepard felt like her heart was in her throat, the choking sensation an unfamiliar throb.

She looked up to meet Garrus’ eyes as he reached for her. “Jane,” he said, taking her into his arms.

“Garrus,” she whispered, her arms going around his carapace. They held each other tightly, and she hoped it wasn’t for the last time.

Don’t leave me, she wanted to whisper.

“I’ll miss you,” she said instead.

I love you, she wanted him to say.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he said.

Get it together, Shepard, she told herself. This wasn’t good for anyone.

“Kick some ass for me, Vakarian.” If it sounded watery, it really wasn’t her fault.

“VAKARIAN!” a voice roared from the doorway.

To his credit, Garrus didn’t jump; he just very carefully extracted himself from her clinging grasp and nodded down at her. “Shepard,” he said formally.

“Vakarian,” she returned evenly, her voice suddenly steady. The stinging echo of longing bounced between them for a fraction of a second before he found the strength to turn away and head for the door, stripping his omnitool from his wrist as he moved. They had each other’s contact info; they’d find each other when he got it back.

He glanced back once in the doorway to meet her eyes, his piercing blue ones so achingly familiar that she had to consciously keep her hand at her side to prevent herself from reaching for him.

Then he was gone.

For the first time in almost three months, she was alone. She shivered with unease. She hated it.

Chapter Text

JS: Hey, Garrus. I know you’ve got my contact card, and I know you’re in testing, but I just wanted to drop you a message so I know that you actually have my contact info. Ugh, needy much, Shepard? Delete dictation.

Hey, Garrus. Just dropping you a message so I can pin this chat to the main page of my omnitool. I’m on the shuttle to orbit with Vel right now. So, you know, just message me whenever you get your omnitool back. She’s definitely snatching you for her company, by the way. She told me she already has you on a soft match for an assignment. They’ll be back from pirate hunting by the time you graduate, but she says they have an exercise projected for a week after you’ll get there, then another deep space mission a couple months after that. Hope you like hunting mercenaries!

----<>----

JS: Ugh, space transit is so boring. I used to think it would be so incredible to be floating out among the stars. I think had some vaguely poetic vision of sailing on a black sea. But then I got out here and it turned out to just be a bunch of empty space in between relay jumps. I’m supposed to be getting my summer reading done – didn’t have much of a chance for it during Reception – but the motionless feeling of space travel makes me feel so restless. I’m hitching a ride back to Earth on an Alliance frigate, the SSV Hastings, and they don’t want me wandering too much. This isn’t one of the ships that cadets can do summer ship tours on, so they aren’t really set up for me.

Blah.

----<>----

JS: The XO took pity on me and is letting me camp out on the bridge to do my work. The bustle of an operational ship helps me focus. He’s checking in to make sure I’m on track for my final summer paper, which is nice of him. He said he knows the second-year ethics professor really well, and that he won’t tolerate anything less than my best effort. I have to get back to it if I hope to get it done before we jump to the Charon Relay tomorrow morning. Hope your testing is going well! I miss you.

----<>----

JS: Back on Earth. My room is too quiet. I miss your noisy breathing. Think you could send me a recording? Oof, too strong, Shepard. Delete last two sentences. I bet if you recorded it, you could make millions as a white noise machine.

Also, I looked up my new ethics professor. He’s married to the Hasting’s XO. I feel like an idiot.

----<>----

JS: Damn, I have five-space math this semester. Does it really matter if I know what crazy permutations of physics my ship is going through on a relay jump? As long as it isn’t a jump to hell, I’m happy.

Shit, I wonder if being smeared into atoms between relays is a bad way to go. It sounds painful, but I bet the crew doesn’t feel a thing when it happens.

Hell, what do I know? Maybe it’s painful for an eternity.

Fuck, that’s too dark. Delete dictation.

JS: Damn it, I have five-space math this semester. Do I really need to know what crazy permutations of physics my ship is going through on a relay jump?

Anyway, I still hope your testing is going well.

----<>----

GV: Jane?

JS: Yes! Hi, Garrus.

GV: Hey! They just gave us back our omnitools. Turns out it wasn’t a day of testing; it was a whole damn week. I haven’t been able to reply to your messages until now.

JS: Yes, Vel mentioned that on our shuttle ride into orbit. I wish they’d let me stay past the Forge, but I’m back at the Academy now. It’s a lot more academics and a lot less survival in the wilderness. Pretty boring.

GV: I can sympathize. It’s the same thing here now that Reception is done. All academics. All boring.

JS: How are you doing?

GV: I’m mostly good. How about you?

JS: What do you mean ‘mostly?!?!?!’

GV: I’ve just missed my partner. It’s all solo now. I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to being by your side.

JS: I’ve missed my partner, too. I sure could use your help with this five-space math homework. I don’t think I know anyone that gets math like you do. Well, I do, but they sit at the front of the classroom and don’t want to help a slow kid like me.

GV: I’m good for more than just noisy breathing. Hit me with it; I can help from here!

----<>----

JS: You awake, Garrus?

GV: For you? Always, Jane.

JS: Never mind. It’s stupid.

GV: Come on, Jane, you can talk to me about whatever you need to. I thought we proved that to each other already?

....

....

JS: It’s dumb. This guy in the class above me called me some pretty shit names today for a gang runner. Had everyone laughing and not one of my “friends” had my back. Made me feel about three feet tall. Serves me right, I guess, for telling him even a little bit about my past.

GV: Is this the guy you tried to hook up with and couldn’t? Want me to come snipe him? I can be in and out in less than thirty. He’ll be dead before he knows I shot a round. Only way to deal with cancer like that.

JS: GARRUS. NO. We don’t assassinate our problems.

GV: Fair enough. But I’d do it for you. You can even defer collection to when I’m a Spectre.

JS: That’s strangely sweet, and I appreciate the offer. But still: no. And yes, it was that guy.

GV: Seriously, Jane, you’re the most incredible soldier I’ve ever met. Lay him out next time he tries to start shit like that. I know from personal experience exactly how hard you hit. Bullies roll over when confronted with force. I know you’re ten times the soldier that loser is. Better yet, tell him he should try the exchange program. Bet he lasts two hours in Day 1 before tapping out.

JS: You’re right, Garrus. They don’t get genetic enhancements here unless they commission into the Marines, and that’s after graduation. I think I’ll do that sweep and knee-buckle roll you showed me. He probably wouldn’t even see it coming.

GV: That ended pretty well for both of us, as I remember. So maybe not exactly like I showed you?

JS: Oh, no, I’d end with a purely human blood choke. He’d be unconscious in seconds. He can wake up in a puddle of his own drool.

GV: You know, Jane, they call turians violent, but I don’t think we can compare to humans. If you hadn’t already shown me what a blood choke was, I’d be terrified right now.

JS: Oh, please. You just offered to put a bullet between his eyes.

GV: I did not! I just offered to snipe him.

JS: I know how accurate you are, Garrus. That bullet would be perfectly centered between his eyes.

GV: Or maybe I’d put it through the back of his head to explode his face. Then no one could recognize him in death. Erase him for daring to insult you.

....

....

GV: Sorry, that was supposed to be a joke.

JS: It’s all right, Garrus. I wish I could see you in person. I would have thought that was funny in person, but I think something is lost in text. I even heard it in your voice in my head, and it just isn’t the same. Sort of makes me think of all that Spectre stuff again.

GV: I’m sorry. I won’t make that kind of joke again. I promise.

JS: I just miss you, you pointy turian bastard.

GV: And I miss you, you frail human bitch.

----<>----

GV: Hey, Jane? Can I ask you a girl question?

JS: Always, Garrus.

GV: Does it make me look too self-absorbed if I keep my crest buffed and shined?

....

JS: Garrus. My sweet, dense sniper. That’s a TURIAN girl question. Go ask your sister. I don’t think I’d notice if a turian’s crest was shiny, so how the hell would I know if you looked self-absorbed or not?

....

GV: Oh, that’s a really good point. Thanks, Jane. I’ll message Sol if I have time later.

JS: I’m going to regret asking this question…but is this about how a particular turian girl might feel about you? Or is it just hypothetical?

GV: Oh! No, it’s just hypothetical. I was just trying to get a sense of your opinion.

JS: Why does my opinion matter on your crest being shiny or not?

....

JS: Gaaaaarrus.

GV: Spirits, Jane, you’re the only girl that’s ever been attracted enough to open up for me! I didn’t buff my crest then and I was just trying to figure out if I should start now or not, since I’ll be commissioning next month. Guys don’t really care – unless they’re Kyratus – so it’s not like I have to worry about them.

JS: “Attracted” might be a pretty strong word; I’m very sure I loathed you. But Garrus, my dearest friend. Please talk to your sister or your mother about this. I’d suggest your dad, but I don’t think he’d be much help. I’m in over my human head in this one.

GV: Uh, what?

JS: [sigh] Just a human expression. I’m in over my head. I’m drowning. I have no idea what to do in this situation.

GV: Did you just “[sigh]” at me in TEXT?! We can do that?!

JS: You deserved it! Call your mom, Garrus. She’ll help you through this one. But if you decide you want to start buffing your crest, I have to see it to render final judgment. Before and after photos! Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

GV: You’ll get the final call on it, Jane, I promise. Crap, I gotta go. If you don’t hear from me for a couple weeks, it’s because we’re at the Forge. I’m the student commander and I have to go run the inbrief.

JV: I knew you’d graduate at the top of your class!

GV: Not quite there yet, Jane. But I’m so close.

----<>----

GV: JANE, I DID IT. I am officially Lieutenant Vakarian!

JS: Congratulations!!! I’m so proud of you, Garrus. Wish my commissioning school was only eight months like yours instead of three years. What was it like being on the other side in the Forge?

GV: Honestly, it felt a bit like cheating. I already knew the area so well. The only challenge was that no one else did. I asked Taris to be my XO, and he did great. I’m so glad Captain Kryik let him and Kyratus back in. Even without anyone else knowing the area, we eliminated the junior cohort with minimal losses. Now the only school I have left is officer courses every time I move up in rank, and those are much shorter.

JS: We have those that, too.

GV: I read that yours are even shorter than ours.

JS: After how long the Naval Academy is, I certainly hope so! I can apply for an exchange into yours now.

GV: I heard about that! Apparently, you were enough of a success that Captain Kryik advocated for more exchanges. I can apply for yours, too.

JS: Wouldn’t that be funny if went to each other’s school at the same time? You’d be on Earth while I was on Palaven.

GV: I’d rather we go to the same school together. We could trade off: turian school for one rank, human school for the next.

JS: Oh, no, I’m definitely going to get promoted faster than you are.

GV: Whatever, I’ve got a head start. Good luck catching up.

JS: I don’t need luck! But is this fraternization now? Commissioned officers can’t sleep with cadets! And I’m definitely pulling you into bed the next time we see each other.

GV: I’m turian, doesn’t matter to us. You humans and your weird rules.

JS: Not to change the subject too hard, but did your dad come to your commissioning?

GV: Yeah, and my mom.

JS: Aaaaaaand?

GV: I think it was the second time he’s ever said he was proud of me. He’s not even close to Captain Kryik’s tally – I need both hands for him – but it still made me feel pretty good. Although he did complain that my grades should have been better and accused you of dragging me down during Reception.

JS: Oops. Sorry.

GV: Doesn’t matter, I would have never done as well without you, and he knows we had the highest score. Neither of my parents lasted the whole two weeks of the Forge, and you and I wiped the entire cohort of seniors out. My mom is proud of me, at least.

JS: And her opinion counts.

GV: Certainly more than my dad’s.

JS: For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I know I already said it, but it bears repeating.

GV: Thank you, Jane That means a lot more to me than my dad’s opinion.

....

JS: Oh, shut up. I’m alone in my room, but I still don’t want to get too embarrassed.

----<>----

GV: Hey, what are you doing on your next summer session? Since you obviously aren’t coming to Palaven to exchange again.

JS: I don’t know yet, the summer assignments haven’t dropped.

GV: Do you get any time off? I could take some leave and we could meet up somewhere, now that I’m back at an ops unit.

JS: I’d love to, but if I get the ship duty I want, there’s no room for leave. I had to sign a preemptive waiver for the summer break to apply, just like with the exchange to Palaven last year. Gods, I’m going to graduate with so much leave to burn! But if I don’t get ship duty, I’ll be stuck on some colony somewhere and the answer to your question is absolutely yes.

GV: And you accuse me of being dense, Jane. They’re going to give you ship duty, obviously.

JS: Why would they?

GV: Maybe I understand better than you do about being groomed for the future thanks to my family, but you, my friend, are clearly being groomed for greatness by the Alliance. They wouldn’t have given you an exchange assignment with a different species if they hadn’t already spotted the talent and potential in you. They don’t give things like that to anyone who has the remotest possibility of embarrassing them. You’re going to get ship duty, Jane.

JS: You really think so?

GV: Yes, I really think so.

JS: Captain Kryik read me some of my basic training assessments. You might be right.

GV: Of course I am! Care to make a wager on it?

JS: I wouldn’t dream of taking your credits.

----<>----

JS: GARRUS! I GOT SHIP DUTY!

GV: Told you.

JS: Yeah, yeah. I ship out on the Agincourt in two weeks. Sorry we won’t get to see each other.

GV: It’s all right, Jane. I’m proud of you. Only one more year at the academy after this and you’ll commission, too. I’m sure we’ll be able to arrange something.

JS: We don’t have to wait that long! I get a winter break in my last year. It’s not like I have any family to visit, so maybe we could see each other then?

GV: Definitely. Give me the dates and I’ll request my leave now. Where would you like to go?

JS: Would you show me the Citadel? I’ve only ever been on brief stopovers, and they never let us go past to docks.

GV: I’d love to show it to you. I spent a lot of time visiting when I was younger because of my dad. I know all the best spots!

----<>----

JS: You awake, Garrus?

GV: No, but it wouldn’t take much convincing.

JS: Oh, sorry, I’ll let you sleep.

GV: Don’t worry about it. You already woke me up, so talk.

....

JS: I saw some shit today.

GV: Crap. Need to talk about it?

JS: Yeah.

GV: You can tell me anything.

....

JS: I know, thank you. There was a slaver attack on a colony. A big one, mostly batarians. The Agincourt was in the area and responded. We had to fend off a concerted attack in space, and we didn’t get there fast enough to make a difference to the colony.

GV: Oh, spirits. I saw a small one two ship tours back, and that was bad enough. I’m sorry.

....

JS: Yeah, me, too. It was bad enough that everyone on the ship collectively gave it a name: the Skyllian Blitz.

....

JS: I saw some pretty terrible things growing up, but I’ve never seen bodies broken like that. People broken like that. Those bastards got away with a lot of humans, and the survivors weren’t in great shape. I wish I’d’ve been there. I could’ve done something to stop it.

GV: You don’t know that, Jane.

JS: I feel it.

GV: You’re incredible, but don’t blame yourself just because you weren’t there. You were doing your duty.

JS: I could have been there. A few of my old Marine buddies wanted to meet up for shore leave. It was a beautiful place. Elysium. I almost said yes, but I wanted to study, so I stayed aboard. I could’ve gone; I have the leave. But I said no, and now they’re all dead.

GV: Spirits, Jane, I’m so sorry. Losing friends is never easy. I’m sorry I don’t have anything better to say than that. But you can’t blame yourself for it. The slavers are the ones that are at fault, not you.

JS: Thanks. Just being able to tell you helps.

....

JS: Garrus?

GV: Yeah, Jane?

JS: I’m really looking forward to winter break.

GV: Me, too.

JS: I have to go. I have mandated counseling. But thanks for putting up with me.

GV: Any time, Jane.

----<>----

JS: Hey, Garrus.

GV: Hey, Jane.

....

JS: Never mind.

GV: Oh, come on. We’ve only got a month before we see each other. If there’s something you want to talk about, just say it.

....

JS: You ever have someone catch feelings for you? Like, serious ones?

....

GV: Sorry, I had to look up a better translation of that to make sure I understood correctly. I don’t think so. Why?

JS: I’ve been seeing this guy. He’s a local, a grad student at the University of Tokyo.

GV: Did this guy “catch feelings?”

JS: Yes. I thought we were just hooking up, but I told him I was meeting up with you over the holidays and he got upset.

GV: Oh. Uh, I’m sorry?

JS: I thought we were casual and seeing other people! I think I became a little more turian than I thought during Reception. Turns out Hiro isn’t nearly as turian, though, and thought we were exclusive. He wanted me to meet his parents and everything.

GV: I don’t really understand how human relationships work, but shouldn’t he have discussed it with you before deciding that?

JS: At some point, yeah, I would have thought so! I don’t know. Not like I have the first clue how any of this is supposed to work, either. He told me if I went to see you, we were done.

....

GV: Do you want to cancel? I don’t want to ruin anything for you.

JS: Absolutely not! I told him we were done if that was the case. The idea of meeting his parents was awful anyway. That’s way too much and way too fast for me.

GV: Oh.

JS: Besides, the sex is way better with you, big guy.

....

GV: You know that thing that happens when you get embarrassed and your face turns pink? If turians could do that, I’d be doing it right now.

JS: Don’t act like you can’t blush. I’ve done some more reading, and I know the blood vessels in your neck dilate and produce the same effect. Are you blue in the neck right now, Garrus?

GV: Crap, you’re on to me. A little learning is a dangerous thing. Well, at least it is when you’re the one doing the learning and I’m the one experiencing the danger.

JS: My only goal for this trip is to see you blush in person.

GV: Surely there are other things you’d like to accomplish? Such as at least two orgasms a day?

JS: I was hoping for four.

GV: Oh, that ambitious, are we? Hmm. I’ll have to plan that out to account for your recovery time. But I can’t show you the Citadel if we stay in bed all day.

JS: I have my priorities in order. And, like I said, I’ve been doing some reading. You better be prepared.

GV: I’ve also been doing some reading, and I believe the human expression is, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

....

JS: I can’t wait to see you.

GV: Same.

Chapter Text

Garrus clasped his hands together behind his back and waited patiently by the shuttle dock. Jane was aboard an Alliance cargo vessel that was due to open its doors at any moment, and he was more than eager to see her. If he was honest with himself, he had to keep his hands clasped firmly behind his back in a perfect picture of composure, lest they wring themselves in front of him in open impatience over her impending arrival on the Alliance ship that had docked over an hour before.

She had called it “Space A” and barely elaborated after that. Garrus had to look it up to find out what it was, thinking it was a decidedly odd name for a ship. It wasn’t a ship, though; it was a free travel benefit the Alliance offered as space was available on all their ships to ease the burden of travel costs on their troops. If there was an open berth, it was first-come-first-serve for Alliance personnel to hitch a ride for free.

It sounded like an idea he needed to suggest to the Hierarchy. He had spent almost one month of his salary already on his travel and the hotel room, the majority of which had been the ticket. He knew Jane would insist on splitting the cost of the hotel room once she got there, but the cost of interstellar travel was pretty high. And he wanted to take her to the zero-g opera at the Dilinaga Conservatory before her leave was up, and he knew those tickets wouldn’t be cheap. Oh well, she was worth it, and it wasn’t like he had much else to spend his money on.

The door to the docking clamp slid open and a small herd of human soldiers issued forth. Most of them were carrying duffels or packs, and every single one of them was in uniform. His mandibles widened in a grin as he spotted a head full of red hair bobbing along between the shoulders of two oversized human Marines. Green eyes locked on to his across the bay and he could see her eyebrows go up. She broke into a jog, dodging around the other humans to hurtle across the space between them.

Her biotics flared as she dropped her bag and jumped into his arms. He caught her and hoisted her the rest of the way up into a hug. “Garrus!”

“Hey, Jane,” he said.

“I missed you, you pointy turian bastard,” she said, pushing herself up with hands placed on his shoulders so she could grin down at him.

“I missed you, too, you frail human bitch,” he replied, his mandibles out as wide as they would go. His subvocals rumbled their own happy greeting against her and she giggled.

He let her down gently and picked up her bag. She made a noise of protest, but he waved her away, then offered her his arm to take.

“My, you have filled out, haven’t you? Certainly living up to your nickname, big guy,” she asked slyly, threading her arm through his and patting at his chest with her other hand.

“Told you I wasn’t done growing,” he said smugly. He’d been as tall as he’d ever get when they met, and still a little short for a turian, but it was all muscle growth from there. He certainly wasn’t the weedy officer candidate she’d known during Reception, though he did his best to keep his waist trim.

“You all right, Sarge?” came a flat, deep voice from behind them. Garrus glanced back over his shoulder to realize one of the bigger Marines was staring at them. Hard.

“Oh, I’m fine, Rodriguez. Garrus and I go way back. He’s probably the best friend I have,” Jane replied to him. “Hope your transit ship to Eden Prime comes in soon!”

She tugged Garrus along by the arm and they decamped the area before anyone else could ask any more questions.

“‘Sarge?’” he asked in curiosity, glancing down at her as they walked.

“I made non-comm before they sent me to the Academy,” she said with a shrug. “‘Sarge’ is better than ‘cadet’ or ‘ma’am’ any day of the week.”

“You’d better get used to ‘ma’am’ if you’re going to commission, Jane,” he said, his subvocals rumbling with his amusement. He understood, of course. He’d been a lieutenant for months now, and it still took him a moment to realize who they were talking to when he got “sir’d” by some crusty NCO on a double-fifteen hitch that had probably already been in the service when Garrus was born.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, managing to elbow him with the arm looped through his own. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I have both levo and dextro wine chilling in our very nice hotel room. I assume you don’t know that,” he said in an exaggerated casual tone. “I figured you’d be jump-lagged, so we could order food and just, ah, catch up.”

“Hmm,” she said, pretending to consider his offer. “Does the hotel have a hot tub?”

“I suppose it probably does with the pool they advertised,” he said, “but I also figured you’d want to stay in, so I got a room with its own. The hotel receptionist said humans love that sort of thing. He’s human himself, so I suppose he’d know.”

She squeezed his arm and laughed. “But I didn’t bring a bathing suit!” she purred.

“I’m sorry, is covering normally required for bathing?” he asked innocently.

“Only in public,” she teased. That sounded encouraging.

“What were you planning on doing if I hadn’t gotten a room with a private one, then?” he asked curiously.

“Please,” she snorted, “it’s ancient military tradition to sneak into hot tubs after hours and enjoy them naked.”

“You humans are so weird. Casual sex within your unit is frowned on, but public indecency is a hallowed pastime?”

“Just roll with it,” she advised him. “There’s often very little explanation for human tradition beyond ‘some guy did it once when we were drunk and we thought it was funny.’ Besides, I don’t actually own a bathing suit. I was just going to buy one here. Now it sounds like I don’t have to!”

“Definitely not,” he agreed. He would be spirits-blessed if he could keep her out of any clothes for as much of this trip as possible.

----<>----

Shepard pushed her slightly sweat-dampened hair out of her face as she rolled off Garrus and into a sitting position on the bed next to him. He was still huffing little gasps of air, and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling with absolutely nothing in his gaze. She grinned; they still had it.

If she was honest with herself, she’d been worried that the closeness of their time in Reception would have slipped away from them in the last year and a half. Once they’d worked out their differences – admittedly, in the most delightful way possible – finding she could rely on him had only boosted her affection that their sexual intimacy had started. He’d been pretty specific about the casualness of turian sexual encounters in the immediate aftermath, though, so she kept a firm platonic hold on that affection.

Firm. Platonic. Hold, she reminded herself.

They had a good start on a lasting friendship that had only been cemented by their regular messages. She was worried she wouldn’t be a good long-distance friend, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy to keep up with him. There were so many days that she couldn’t wait to get back to her room at the academy to send him a message about something that had happened. She hadn’t had to seek out things to talk about; he’d just been the first person she wanted to tell anything.

Though, she’d definitely missed the physical side of their friendship. She glanced at his prone form on the bed and grinned. “Having a good shore leave, Vakarian?”

He blew out his breath and the focus came back into his eyes as he looked at her. “I may have had a little extra stress to work out,” he said, reaching over to stroke her bare thigh.

“Oh?” she invited him to continue, flopping out on the bed next to him. He angled himself toward her in the thick nest of pillows he’d built up under his carapace.

“Now that I’m a lieutenant, life is a little different,” he said, running his hand up and over her hip to caress her waist. “I’m responsible for a platoon of some pretty young junior enlisted infiltrators. Captain Galen has me paired with a senior non-comm but it’s a steep learning curve. Leaves very little time for—” he dragged his talons over the skin of her abdomen “—blowing off steam. Fewer available partners.”

She wasn’t sure she entirely liked the idea of him with anyone else, but she needed to let that go. Besides, she slept with other people, too. “I thought turians were less strict about fraternization? Vel running herd on you?” she asked, trying not to shiver under his touch.

“Well, sure we’re less strict about it, and I was okay with that when I was the junior enlisted infiltrator. Now that I’m in charge it just feels…wrong,” he said, smoothing his hand over where he’d just lightly scratched. “Like I’d be taking advantage of them or something.”

“Garrus Vakarian,” she said sternly, stroking a finger across one mandible, “you almost sound human with that sentiment!”

“Spirits save me!” he cried mockingly, gripping her hip tightly. “A fate worse than death, to sound like a human! Quick, give me a gun and something to shoot.”

She turned her stroke into a grab and lunged forward to bite at the other mandible. “You take that back,” she demanded playfully.

He used her momentum to grasp her around the waist with both arms and continue the roll so he could pin her underneath him. Nipping at her soft ear with his lip plates, he growled, “Not a chance. Yield, squishy human.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist over the top of his hip spurs and nipped back at the hide just under the bottom edge of his lowest fringe. “Not a chance, pointy turian,” she repeated back at him.

“Round two, Shepard?” he asked, his subvocals rumbling in just the right ways against her.

“Hell, yes, Vakarian.”

----<>----

It was much later when she found herself stretched out on his torso, her cheek resting on one of his chest plates. “You make a very uncomfortable pillow, Garrus,” she complained.

“I’m not the one who chose to lay down like this,” he said mildly. He certainly wasn’t objecting to having her draped all over him, her lower body between his legs with her pelvis pressing against his groin. His arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his fingers loose enough to stroke light circles over her shoulder blades told her that much.

“Your chest is a much less comfortable place for my face than your neck,” she noted grumpily.

“Then why don’t you move?” he asked, making no effort himself to change positions.

“Because I’m tired,” she said with a horizontal shrug. “And very lazy right now.”

“We didn’t even make it to the wine,” he noted.

“Not my fault,” she protested.

“Half your fault.”

That was fair. Not all her fault, then. They’d both been equally eager to get into the bed, and two rounds had tired them both out.

“Why don’t you use your beefy new muscles to carry me to the couch and serve me wine?” she asked, sliding one hand down the side of chest to find his softer hide and trailing her fingers across it suggestively. “I would be very impressed, I promise.”

Garrus snorted his multilayered turian laugh in response. “The day Jane Shepard is incapable of walking across a room is the day she dies.”

She curled her knuckles in to prick at his skin with her nails. She sighed in frustration when it prompted no response from him. “Tough turian bastard.”

“I thought I was pointy?” he asked, his voice much too innocent to be genuine. She was sure he knew damn well what she’d tried. Time for a different tactic.

“C’mon, honey,” she wheedled, “are you really going to make me walk after all that?”

“What?” he asked curiously, his subvocals rumbling in a lighter tone against her face. They must be echoing his curiosity; she swore she would have described the vibrations as quizzical. It had to be her use of the word honey in that context. She gave a mental middle finger to whoever had designed the translation algorithms.

“It’s a human term of endearment, like ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart,’” she said. “You know, because you’re sweet? And honey is sweet?”

“Oh, it’s a specific thing?” he asked, his subvocals settled into a deeper, pleased purr. “It translates as ‘insect secretion.’ I don’t know if that retranslation comes through the right way, but it doesn’t exactly have positive implications.”

“Oh! No!” Shepard exclaimed, turning her head so she could prop her chin on his chest plate to look up at him. “We have these insects on Earth called bees. They go around to different flowers and pick up pollen. It lets plants…well, I guess reproduce is the best way to describe it. But yes, they make an ‘insect secretion’ from it called something else. I know it won’t translate right, but we call it honey. It’s sweet and delicious, and humans have used it for thousands of years. Had a Marine buddy from the Scandinavian Collective that once made me try alcohol made from it called mead. It’s been my favorite use of honey so far, even if the hangover was fierce. Granted, that was probably the akvavit he had me drink afterwards. Said it was the true drink of his homeland.”

“Hmm, I like the sound of all that. Except the hangover, of course,” Garrus said, one arm finally loosening around her so he could skim a palm up her bare back. She shivered and sighed happily under the slightly rough texture of his touch. His hand came to rest with his fingers tangled in her hair, and she bit back a moan at the sensation of his talons lightly scraping against her scalp. Ohhh, she’d missed that. Human fingernails never seemed to have the same effect.

“Sooo, are you going to carry me to the couch, honeeey?” she asked, making sure to drag her words out.

He leaned over so he could bury his nose against the top of her head. “Manipulative human,” he murmured into her hair, his mouth pressing against her with those delightful imitation kisses of his.

It was a technique he’d perfected during their time in Reception, and Shepard wondered if he’d tried that with another turian since they’d last seen each other. She tried to pretend the thought didn’t bother her, but the morbid curiosity of the thought bothered her enough to speak.

“Garrus, you ever accidentally do something with another turian that was something you learned to do with me?” she asked.

His fingers stilled in her hair as he relaxed back against the pillows, though his subvocals continued to purr reassuringly against her with a steady thrum of contentment.

“Couch and wine for this discussion, I think,” he finally said. He hadn’t paused for that long before saying it, but the firmness in his voice made her feel like there was a story there. Shit, had she messed something up for him? That was always the last thing she wanted to do.

He rose underneath her with almost no effort at all, his arms shifting to cradle her against him as he rolled out of bed and into a standing position. She shifted automatically to roll with him, twisting her body so that her arms clasped around his neck, one of his arms holding her up under her back while the other tucked up under her knee.

“I knew you could do it,” she said with a satisfied grin, stretching her neck up to plant a kiss on his closest mandible.

“Yes, well, you don’t weigh that much, Jane,” he mumbled, his embarrassment obvious.

He crossed the room to settle her on the couch. It was quite a spacious place he’d found. The sitting area was separated from the bed by a wall that went all the way to the ceiling; even though the bed wasn’t behind its own door, it divided the large room into smaller, cozy sections. The kitchenette lined the wall behind the couch, and he went to it to retrieve the wine after setting her down.

Shepard surveyed the terrain and cycled through a couple options; she wanted cuddles without having to lean sideways against his body, so her options were limited. Her gaze crossed the multitude of extra pillows on the two armchairs that formed precise ninety-degree angles off each couch arm, the three pieces of furniture arrayed along three edges of a surprisingly simple rectangular coffee table.

She leaned over to retrieve a couple of the cushions and set them up against the closest of the couch arms, settling down to wait for him in the middle of the couch. She watched him move through the small kitchen across the room, his unconscious grace drawing her eye like a lodestone. His angular form was so unlike a human’s but it had become surprisingly and endearingly familiar in their twelve short weeks together. Hell, by the end of Reception, her own face had become oddly strange in the mirror.

She dealt with hushed whispers of curiosity from some of her classmates when she got back to the academy. She’d understood; the same rumors of the sexual proclivities of turians that had given her pause before she went to Palaven had made some of her peers curious enough to ask her about it. She’d answered their questions with simple honesty. Yes, they have a lot of casual sex. No, they don’t have mass orgies in the barracks. No, actually they are quite conscious of consent, and rape will earn someone a one-way trip to being outcast from society.

A few of the bolder ones had even asked her if she’d sampled, but she’d shut their leering interest down with a shocked, “They’re turians!” It had successfully shut them up without noticing that she hadn’t actually said no. She’d sent one overly inquisitive freshman off with an admonishment to go look up a xenoanatomy textbook in the library if he really wanted those details.

Maybe one day it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Maybe one day jumping into the arms of her closest friend in greeting after a year and a half apart wouldn’t cause the nearest meathead to get concerned because it was a turian she was excited to see.

Not that Rodriguez is a bad guy, or anything, she reminded herself. Some of those colony kids are just as sheltered from galactic society as the ones from the gutters of Earth.

“I’ve been brushing up on some Earth idioms,” Garrus’ voice interrupted, “and I believe the appropriate one is: ‘penny for your thoughts?’”

She glanced up, startled to realize he was standing by the coffee table and offering her a glass of white wine. The condensation on the glass cooled her fingers as she took it automatically, nodding her thanks. “Just contemplating some sociological observations,” she said, patting the seat next to her by the cushions she’d arranged.

His brow plates raised in curiosity at the gesture, and she heaved a sigh. “Just sit down here, Garrus. I’ll show you what I want.”

To his credit, he settled down immediately and didn’t protest when she tugged at his far leg with one hand. He swung himself around, and she quickly arranged herself between his legs, reaching out to grab one more pillow to settle between her back and his hard chest plates.

“There,” she said with a satisfied hum as she settled back against him, his subvocals purring against her. She took a swallow of her wine and let the chill of it as it washed down into her stomach fight the easy warmth of Garrus’ embrace. The wine lost that particular fight, naturally.

Well, she might as well go first with awkward situations.

“The first guy I slept with? I grabbed at him like I was trying to palm your seam when you hadn’t slipped out of it yet,” she offered softly, her head dropping backwards to rest on his shoulder. “I think I bruised more than his ego. It definitely ruined the mood, although we worked back around to it.”

“I reached for your hair with the first guy,” he said in her ear. “He could tell something was wrong when I touched his fringe and jerked my hand away. I convinced him everything was fine, though I think he knew what happened.”

“Why, was it somebody in our cohort?” she asked, wondering how she’d feel if it was.

“Yes,” he said, “Kyratus finally got around to propositioning me, and I told him no. But I was really missing you. So, I went and convinced Justus that he should try to make Kyratus jealous and that we both needed to relax. We…what was your phrase? Hooked up? We hooked up a few times before Kyratus finally decided that maybe he needed another go with Justus after all. Kyratus teased me about it a lot that he won, but it wasn’t like I had any feelings either way. Justus thanked me for it, though. And it was a nice enough distraction while it lasted.”

“Oh, that was…nice of you,” Shepard said, trying to ignore her sudden jump in heart rate. He’d slept with Justus?! She’d already heard enough from him to know that he was interested in both men and women – did turians even have only two genders? Humans certainly didn’t, and she hadn’t even thought to ask about turians – but he had slept with one of their friends.

You’re just friends. Maybe with benefits, but still just friends. And this is casual, she reminded herself. He could do whatever he wanted with anyone else that he wanted, even if it was someone they both knew. At least it was someone nice; she didn’t know how she’d feel if it was Kyratus himself, but Justus was okay. He was polite and soft-spoken, and really, it sounded like Garrus had mostly done it to help him out. Right.

Get over it, Shepard, she told herself sternly.

They both took another drink of their wine. She held on to her glass, but he set his down so he could wrap both of his arms around her waist. Be normal, Shepard.

“I made a girl bleed when I dug my nails into her shoulders too hard. I was used to how tough your hide is,” she continued. She supposed that would pass for normal among turians. “Joke was on me, though. She liked it.”

“She liked bleeding during sex?” Garrus asked, his subvocals rumbling with confusion.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “I definitely didn’t ask to see her again.”

“I should hope not,” he said, shuddering almost delicately. “What an odd thing to like.”

“Eh,” Shepard said, not willing to judge too much. “Everyone has their kinks. That’s just not one of mine. I felt bad because she got excited about it, but I really wasn’t into it.”

“I suppose it could be worse. Or just silly. I held a girl’s hand wrong,” he said, releasing one of his arms around her waist to hold his hand palm up in front of her. She smiled and slipped her opposite hand into it, automatically sliding her fingers to lace through his in the big thumb-thumb-big finger-finger-big finger configuration they’d worked out, her other three fingers curling around the side of hand.

“How do you hold someone’s hand wrong?” she asked in amusement. He pulled her hand up to plant his mouth on the back of it, her arm stretching across her body to reach.

“Trust me, turian women can get offended by the slightest thing,” he assured her, dropping their linked hands back to her lap. “I couldn’t quite get it right – I kept searching for this fit – and she got frustrated with me.”

“Humans can get that way, too. Hiro – that guy that thought we were in a relationship – tried desperately for twenty minutes with his tongue,” Shepard said. “He got a little offended when I made him stop. That’s when I told him I was seeing you for winter break.”

That was why he got so upset, she admitted to herself. Her timing could have been much better, but it wasn’t like she came out and said she was going to go on vacation with a guy that could perform magic tricks with his tongue and tended to plan his course to her orgasm with tactical precision.

Okay, she might have implied it when he got pissed at her, but they’d been halfway dressed again, and she hadn’t said it directly. Not her finest moment, but surely not her worst.

“I had the inverse,” Garrus chuckled in his ear, his flanging to damn near a hum in amusement. “There was this recon scout. She and I, ah, did not get along.”

“Oh,” Shepard said, unable to stop the smile on her face. “That sounds familiar. What was the problem?”

“Nerves mostly. But we also had a different approach to how infiltration works. She was a bit more traditional than I was, so she thought I took unnecessary risks. And I thought she was inefficient in accomplishing mission objectives,” Garrus explained. She may have been unable to stop the smile on her face, but she did suppress the urge to roll her eyes.

“And let me guess,” she said dryly, “you told her that in those words exactly.”

“Of course,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be direct about it?”

She sighed and tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder. “Garrus, honey—” she really did like the way that sounded in her mouth when she talked to him; it was bound to slip out more often “—sometimes the direct approach comes off as too aggressive or as an attack. Sometimes, you need to modify how you deliver the message to convince someone to hear it at all.”

“Hmph,” he grumbled. “People should be able to hear the message without taking it personally. My grandfather always said…”

He trailed off, his silence heavy with its thoughtfulness, though his subvocals vacillated a bit through her body. She left to him to his quiet for a moment to figure his own way through the next part of the conversation, knowing damn well that his family was a source of never-ending consternation for him. She had plenty of time to take a couple more sips of wine before he continued.

“Well, if he said it, maybe I shouldn’t lend too much credence in it,” he finally said.

“Give my method a try some time,” Shepard advised, not wanting to ruin the relaxed mood with any more serious advice. She was already unsettled enough at finding out that he’d messed around with Justus after she left.

Only because he missed you, she reminded herself. And it helped Justus get what he wanted in the end.

Didn’t make it any less of a hard pill to swallow.

“So, that recon scout?” she asked, deliberately twisting her voice into lightness, even if it made something twinge in her chest.

“Oh, yeah, her. We were at each other’s throats. Like I said, nerves mostly. After this one particularly bad mission, she suggested we settle it in the ring.” He sounded fond, now, his subvocals evening out against her. Of course, he’d be happy about getting to punch it out in the ring. Shepard wondered if it had ended their way their unsanctioned shower brawl had. She had no doubt that she was about to find out, and she’d bet that it did.

“I take it you went easy on her?” she teased, knowing full well from experience that he wouldn’t.

“Actually, she and I were the two best hand-to-hand combatants on the ship,” he said, amusement rumbling in his chest.

“Kind of like you and me?” Shepard asked.

“Exactly like you and me. I had reach, she had flexibility. It was brutal. After nine rounds, the judges declared it a draw. A lot of unhappy bettors in the other room.”

“Too bad you had the judge in the way, or it might have ended better for you,” she said, “like it did with us.”

“We, uh, ended up having a tiebreaker in her quarters,” he said. “Like I said, I had reach, she had flexibility.”

“More than one way to work off stress,” Shepard said with a shrug. Guess he had gotten his happy ending after all.

“Well, it would have worked if I hadn’t messed it up,” Garrus said. He sounded embarrassed again.

“Oh, come on!” Shepard protested. “You’re supposed to be good at that! You certainly had me locked in.”

Garrus’ subvocals just rumbled in her for a moment, one of his hands wandering up to comb through her hair where it spread over his chest plates.

“Garrus,” she said, “what did you do?”

“You remember your initial question?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“That. I did that.”

“Did what?” she asked. There were an awful lot of things that could qualify as “that.”

“Well, first I accidentally tried to kiss her your way,” he said. “That didn’t go over well. Then, I think I spent a little too much time touching places that would have given you pleasure—” his hand in her hair dropped down to one breast and he cradled it gently in his hand “—but just confused her. Finally, I…”

He trailed off, his face dropping down to her shoulder. “This is embarrassing,” he said.

She reached up her free hand to caress the back of his head, and she wasn’t sure if his answering moan was an echo of his embarrassment or fresh arousal as she sought out the sensitive patch of hide just under his fringe. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she said.

“You remember how you told me I never needed to ask if I wanted to use my tongue on you?” he asked. “Well, I forgot myself and was so eager to show her that I could be good at something that I went for it.  She was incredibly offended. Kicked me out of her room immediately. That was a couple months ago, and it’s been, ah, a bit of a dry spell since. I think she spread the word of my…uncouth behavior.”

Oh, so he hadn’t gotten his happy ending. She tried not to feel too pleased as she increased the pressure of her fingers on his skin. “Well, if you need to get the urge out to use your tongue on something, I’m right here.”

His face slid sideways along her shoulder to bury itself in her neck as he inhaled deeply.

“Yes,” he said, his mandibles tickling her as they moved. “Yes, you are.”

They never did get out much to see the Citadel that trip.

Chapter Text

JS: Garrus! I need to vent.

GV: I was just settling down after an evening out. Well, an evening in what passes for a bar in this tiny town, anyway. Digeris isn’t exactly covered with sprawling cities and nightlife. Taris and I wanted to welcome the fresh round of lieutenants we just got to the battalion. But I’m free now, so vent away!

JS: I’m doing my senior seminar in formal functions.

GV: HA! I bet that’s going well.

JS: Shut up, you’re supposed to be a sympathetic ear.

GV: I can be, but I still have nightmares about the first formal dinner I had to escort you to. You were beyond help there.

JS: By turian standards! I was perfectly composed by human standards.

GV: Except it was a turian formal function, not human.

JS: Whatever. You obviously aren’t going to listen to me.

GV: Sorry. I will. I promise.

JS: Eh, you made me laugh, so now I’m not mad about it anymore.

GV: Good. You can still talk to me about it if you want.

JS: I’m really not any good at the formal stuff. I’m getting better, but it’s really tough.

GV: Despite my grandmother’s best efforts to beat decorum into me, I’m not naturally much better than you are. But one of my drill instructors in basic reframed it for me: treat it like a battlefield.

JS: What do you mean?

GV: Make sure you’ve got the best armor and gear. That’s your clothes, which should be easy, since dress uniforms come standard issue. Scope out the terrain and figure out where the supply lines run, where the conflict will happen, and the best lines of escape.

....

JS: You mean find the food, figure out the dance floor, and make sure I know where the bathroom is?

GV: Now you’re getting it! Assessing the enemy is a little more difficult, but I know you’re up for it. Witty conversation is always a weapon in your arsenal.

JS: Until I let loose a biotic charge on a conversation.

GV: Come on, you had most of our training cohort charmed after a couple weeks. Not to mention how quickly you won me over.

JS: I could hardly use the techniques I used on you with everyone!

GV: Reserve those techniques for strategic employment, then.

JS: I’ll take that under advisement. How’s Taris doing by the way?

GV: He’s doing really well, actually. He got his adoption offer from Captain Galen’s clan last week, so he’s been buzzing with excitement and trying to figure out the best way to formally ask her to be his bondmate.

JS: I knew that was going to happen. I’m happy for him! Didn’t she pretty much already ask him, though?

GV: Well, yes, but he’s fretting over doing things the right way.

JS: I bet you’re no help. You thought everyone still did arranged marriages.

GV: Oh, hush. I know better now.

JS: Tell him to keep it quiet and just the two of them. I maaaaay keep in touch with Vel, and she maaaaay have said a thing or two.

GV: Oh? Got any other insider information? Because you’re absolutely correct: I am no help at all.

JS: I suppose in repayment for all the math tutoring you gave me, I could mention that she prefers asari honey mead to turian wine, even though it’s levo. And that if Taris can find something called an iron lily, that’s her favorite flower. She would love a picnic with a nice view – if you can find one on that planet; she seems to think you can’t – and for him to just ask her. And tell him to ask at the beginning, not the end, so it becomes a celebration and not a meal where she has to sit in suspense.

GV: Jane Shepard: secret romantic and savior of one Lieutenant Taris.

JS: Ha, I’m doing this part for Vel, not Taris. She deserves a perfect moment.

----<>----

GV: Hey, Jane. How’s the seminar going?

....

GV: I know you must be busy this close to graduation. Just shoot me a message whenever you’re free.

----<>----

JS: Hey, sorry about not getting back to you sooner. The seminar is fine, but I’m studying for finals. Your advice was great, by the way. Thank you.

GV: As was yours; Lieutenant Taris is now poised to become Lieutenant Galen. From clanless bareface to happily bonded in less than two years. And helping you was no problem, Jane! Anything else I can help with? Math? Engineering?

JS: I know! Vel sent me a message already gushing over his proposal. And no, there’s nothing else I need help with right now. I finished math in the first semester. Ugh, navigational math is impossible. So glad I’m done with that. We’re down to the last couple seminars, and it’s a lot of leadership doctrine and ethics debates. Gods, I hate debates. It’d be okay if I could argue my actual feelings, but nooooo. I’ve got to argue the opposing viewpoints. At least the final runs in the combat simulator should be pretty easy.

GV: I don’t know anyone who’s as good at that as you. Maybe Captain Kryik.

JS: How’s he doing?

GV: He made Spectre finally.

JS: Good for him! Sounds like he’ll do better there than he was doing in the turian military. You guys have no appreciation for outside-the-box thinking.

GV: Hey, I do! And Kryik reached out last week to tell me he’d secured me a spot in the Spectre training program.

JS: Hell, yes, Garrus! Why didn’t you tell me already?! Go get it! When do you leave?

GV: You didn’t seem to like the idea very much before, so I wasn’t sure if I should share. And I don’t know when I leave. He said it would be within a couple months. They sort of spring it on you so you aren’t prepared.

JS: I’m proud of you, Garrus. No matter what I may personally think about it, you’ve earned this chance.

GV: Thanks. That’s actually really good to hear. I was worried…well, I was worried this would come between us. I feel one step closer to achieving something I’ve wanted for such a long time.

JS: I wouldn’t let that come between us, Garrus. I’ll sort through my own feelings, but you go chase your dreams. I’ll be here supporting you no matter what. Well, as long as you don’t turn into a raging asshole.

GV: Thank you, Jane. I don’t know where I’d be without your support. I hope you know how much I appreciate it. And I’d never go as bad as Arterius. Think I’ll give him a wide berth.

....

JS: Oh, shit! I’ve got to run, or I’m going to be late for squad drills. Squad leader can’t be late for her own training session.

GV: Go on, Jane. Kick some ass for me!

JS: I always do.

----<>----

JS: All right, Garrus. It’s official! No more fraternization for us! I am officially Second Lieutenant Jane Shepard, Alliance Marines!

....

JS: Damn, sorry to have missed you. Just hit me up whenever, okay?

----<>----

GV: Crap, Jane, I am so sorry. Congratulations! I am so proud of you!

JS: Hey, it’s no problem, Garrus. I know we’re on completely different schedules.

GV: No, I should have made a better effort to figure out when your commissioning would be. I wanted to celebrate with you, even if it was just virtual. I would have loved to come in person to your graduation, but Captain Galen said that was very ill-advised.

JS: It’s okay, Commander Anderson came, so I wasn’t as alone as I thought I would be.

GV: Is that the guy that got you off the streets?

JS: Yeah, I’ll tell you the full story some time. He’s the one that got me the spot at Grissom Academy, since I was too young to enlist. He probably saved my life. He’s been keeping an eye on me, sort of how Captain Kryik does with you. I shouldn’t have been surprised he was there; he’s come to every other graduation I’ve ever had.

GV: I’m glad you have a mentor, Jane.

JS: Me, too.

GV: Did you get the ship posting you wanted?

JS: Yeah, I’ve been assigned to the Marine detachment on the SSV Shanghai. We’ll be patrolling right on the edges of Alliance space. I’m so excited!

....

GV: That’s great, Jane.

JS: You okay, Garrus?

....

GV: No.

JS: What’s wrong?

....

GV: I don’t want to ruin your excitement.

JS: Come on, Garrus. We tell each other everything.

....

GV: My dad got my Spectre training cancelled.

JS: WHAT?

....

GV: Yeah, I just…I don’t know what to do now. He gave me this big speech on responsibility to the Hierarchy and the lawlessness of Spectres, and I just swallowed it all down. Captain Galen gave me the same lecture. She said they’re going to promote me to captain. I don’t want to be a captain yet! I’ve barely been a lieutenant long enough for this promotion. It’ll mean I’m not allowed to be on ground teams anymore. No field time, nothing. She said I’m ready to go serve on staff for a couple years to get the inner workings down, then move on to my own company command.

JS: Damn, Garrus, I’m sorry. And here I am, all excited about finally commissioning and getting back to the action.

GV: No, it’s okay. Like I said, I don’t want to ruin your excitement. I’m happy for you, Jane.

JS: And I’m upset for you, Garrus! I know that was your dream. Is there any way Kryik can help?

GV: I already asked, and no. I can apply again in a couple years, but my father would just do this again.

JS: What do you want to do?

....

GV: I don’t want to stay in the military.

JS: Really?

GV: No, I don’t. Once you make captain, it’s all staff and command time from then on. You might get a “break” as a general’s aide or something, but that sounds even worse. I think Josinae was right about them plotting my course for general and a triple-fifteen.

JS: And is that what you want?

....

GV: No.

JS: Then do something else! Speaking of Josinae, why don’t you do that six-month tour with C-Sec that she did?

GV: My father is basically the top C-Sec detective, Jane. I don’t want to be around him.

JS: I know, but it’ll get you out of the military for a while and away from the pressing need to make a decision. You’ll have six months to sort out your feelings. You can’t let your dad drive you into throwing away your citizenship opportunities. I mean, that would probably be the easiest way to piss him off but think of the rest of your life, Garrus.

....

GV: You’re probably right.

JS: Like usual.

GV: Shut up.

----<>----

GV: All right, Jane, you were right. This C-Sec exchange was a good idea.

....

....

....

GV: Never thought you’d pass up a chance to tell me, “I told you so,” but here we are. I’m sure your first ship duty is a lot to take on, but I know you’re more than capable of handling it. Just shoot me a message whenever you can.

----<>----

JS: Sorry, there’s going to be a bit of a delay. Comm buoys are a bit spread out here. And I’m always right!

GV: No problem, we don’t have to chat or anything. But I wanted you to know that C-Sec feels…right. It feels better than floundering my way through the military for the next thirty years. I think I might stay once my six months are up. Thank you, Jane, for guiding me to this. I’m so lucky to have you for a friend.

....

JS: Damn, Garrus, you can’t make me cry in front of everyone in the barracks like this. We don’t get privacy curtains out here! I’m happy for you. And maybe a bit proud of myself for helping you, but mostly I’m happy for you. Maybe we could just write letters to each other while I’m out here at the edge of civilization? That way there’s no pressure to respond immediately or anything.

GV: That sounds perfect, Jane.

----<>----

Jane;

Well, here goes my first attempt at a letter instead of just the messages.

I came to the Citadel a lot growing up, but I didn’t realize how much went on behind the scenes just to keep it running. I knew the keepers did a great job keeping the mechanics of everything running smoothly, but the people side can get pretty ugly. C-Sec is constantly busy; sometimes it’s the most mundane of things and sometimes it’s the most dire of things. I helped a little asari girl find her lost stuffed animal yesterday morning. In the afternoon, I was standing perimeter guard on the crime scene investigation into the biggest red sand bust we’ve had on the station in the last five years.

It feels right being here. It’s not the Spectres, but I feel like I can help people find the justice they deserve. I know I said it before, but thank you, Jane, for nudging me into this.

How’s ship life treating you? Tell me everything!

Garrus

----<>----

Garrus;

I know you said it before, and I know I said it before, but I’m so happy for you. You would have been a hell of a general, but I bet you’ll be running C-Sec in no time. Hold on to how it felt to help that asari girl. You’ll need it for all the red sand busts to come.

Ship life is all right. Marines are always going to be Marines, so it’s a pretty nice constant. The ship commander just got relieved, though, so there’s some whiplash there. He’s getting shipped back to Arcturus Station by way of a fast scout ship in a few days. The XO has stepped up and she’s doing great; I hope she gets promoted to captain officially and is confirmed in her post.

We’re going to go planetside for the first time tomorrow. We’re scouting out a new potential colony location. It’s only a small element that’s going, but our Marine detachment commander, Major Whitehall, has me commanding one squad. The other junior lieutenant going on the mission was in my class at the academy, and Whitehall will be on the ground with us. I guess she’s assessing us?

She’s actually only a captain, but the Navy gets weird about the “captain” rank and title, so we have to call her “Major” Whitehall when we’re aboard. I just stick with ma’am. Much easier to remember.

Wish me luck!

Jane

----<>----

Jane;

You’re probably already on your mission by now, but I know you’ll do well. You don’t need any luck because you’re damn good at what you do. My first mission in command was a disaster, but I hadn’t been given the time to get to know my people and I don’t have your natural way with leadership. Lucky for me, it was just an exercise.

Life at C-Sec is settling into routine. My assigned patrol cop mentor had to let a guy go yesterday on a technicality. He’s been dealing lotus leaves out of the back of his electronics shop, but some junior detective mishandled the evidence and it became inadmissible. I wanted to smash his smug volus face in when we released him, even if I couldn’t see his expression.

But I thought of you and your restraint during Reception. If you could make it through that, I can make it through this.

Anyway, let me know how your mission went. I’m sure you were phenomenal, as always.

Garrus

----<>----

Garrus;

Sorry about the lotus leaves dealer. (What is that, anyway? While I have an unfortunately large amount of experience with the human kinds, alien drugs really aren’t my specialty.) I know you’ll be able to catch him eventually. You’re very persistent in getting what you want. And you are too a natural leader!

I did fine on the mission, but my fellow second lieutenant did not. He’s on his way back to Arcturus on the same scout ship as our former commander as I type this.

Honestly, it wasn’t his fault. He had a raw private that had never been off Earth before basic. We weren’t supposed to remove our helmets, since the atmosphere hadn’t been cleared. Private Daniels freaked out and tore off his helmet. Nobody could get there fast enough, and Dano breathed in some nasty microbe that was in the air. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Obviously, this planet is off the list for colonization. Crappy way to find that out.

Lieutenant Gregory wasn’t even in trouble for it. Everyone knows that panic can happen to anyone at any time. Everyone knows you should trust your NCOs to handle their troops. But Greg had a series of his own panic attacks after we got back to the ship and resigned his commission. Neither Major Whitehall nor the gunnery sergeant could talk him out of it. I even tried, but he just wouldn’t listen.

Makes me wish Dano had been assigned to my squad. He was a good guy, and it would have hurt to lose him, but I don’t think it would have been this bad for me. We lost a junior troop’s life and put black marks on his squad and team leaders’ records. Was it really worth the career of a promising young officer, too?

Jane

----<>----

Jane;

Damn, that’s a hell of a first mission. I appreciate that your first instinct is to take on someone else’s pain, but I’m happy it didn’t end that way for you. You’re going to remember this for the rest of your life as your first real command. For it to not end in the death of one of your soldiers is a good thing.

The non-comms deserve just as much blame as your Lieutenant Gregory. If he wants to own the burden, that’s his right duty as the commissioned officer in command. I’m not saying he was right to throw away his whole career over it, but I understand the impulse. I’m glad it wasn’t you, though.

For an educational shift to lighter conversation: lotus leaves are an eezo-infused plant from Thessia, the asari homeworld. You could call them a gateway drug to red sand. Non-biotics can use them for a lifetime and not feel any change in their high, but biotics quickly adapt to it. Most move on to red sand pretty quickly. It’s illegal for biotics in Citadel space, and we’re pretty sure this guy was dealing for a small group of Eclipse Sisters that’s operating on the Citadel. It’s frustrating because we can’t find them.

The volus dealer is dead, though. Nearest we can figure, the Eclipse mercs thought he’d given up their location to be released from custody. They had him killed by a krogan mercenary. We have the krogan in lock up, but he’s not talking. It’s something like justice, but I can’t say that I exactly like it. Sure, this guy won’t be dealing any more, but Eclipse is still free to operate and distribute. I can’t see an end in the distribution chain, and it bothers me.

Anyway, how long is your tour? I’d love to see you when you get your next shore leave.

Garrus

----<>----

Garrus;

You’re at the top of my list of people to visit! Well, technically, you’re the only one on my list of people to visit.

This is a six-month rotation. We’re two months into it, so I’ll see you on the Citadel in four. Unless you want to meet somewhere else? Maybe take an actual…[gasp]...vacation! Just imagine this: you, me, a beach, and some fruity drinks with umbrellas in them. Sounds like a nice way to forget all about drug-dealing volus and human Marine officers who can’t keep their panic attacks under control.

Anyway, we’re off to another planet. This one already has a colony on it. It’s a really small one, and they haven’t checked in for a couple weeks or responded to any comm checks. Alliance brass is a little worried, but Major Whitehall thinks their comm system is probably just busted. She spent her teenage years on a small colony and said it’s pretty normal. We’ve done lots of show-of-presence missions at colonies, but this is only our second one where we’re headed into the unknown. The whole Marine detachment is going groundside, though, so here’s to hoping my second real mission goes better for the team than my first!

And the planet we’re headed for is called Akuze, if you want to try to find it on a galaxy map.

Jane

----<>----

Jane;

I’d love to take a vacation with you! I’m sure I’ll be wanting to take a break from C-Sec at that point. If you get me the dates, I’ll block off the leave. I made it official with C-Sec a few weeks ago, so I’m on the books as a real patrol cop now, not just a shadowing exchange officer. My turian military commission is still there if I ever want it, but I don’t think I’m going to want to pick that back up. Dad said my prospects for detective are pretty good within a few years.

Yeah, I’m talking to him again. He hasn’t apologized for the whole Spectre training thing, and I know he won’t. Me being here in C-Sec…well, it’s the most proud of me I think he’s ever been. I didn’t even tell my mom why I made the choice to come here because I know she’d tell him. Then he’d just be disappointed all over again. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to talk to, Jane. Probably just bottle it all up inside and let the resentment fester.

Anyway, like I said, get me those dates so I can put in for my leave now.

Garrus

----<>----

Jane;

It’s been a couple weeks and I haven’t heard from you. I hope you’re okay. Hope that comms blackout wasn’t something serious.

Anyway, just letting you know that I’m thinking of you.

Garrus

----<>----

JS: Garrus?

GV: Jane! I was getting worried. You okay?

JS: No.

GV: Shit, what can I do?

....

JS: Can I come stay with you for a while? Things went really wrong on that last mission.

GV: Of course you can. Did you resign your commission or something?

JS: No. But I’m being grounded for at least a couple months. Psych reasons. There’s a program on the Citadel that’s an option for treatment.

GV: Of course, Jane. I’m here for whatever you need. Are you okay? Are you hurt?

....

JS: It’s bad.

GS: I’m here. Whatever you need. No matter what happened.

....

JS: Garrus, I lost everyone.