Kaleidoscope

by fourthage

Summary:

Years after the end of the Reaper War, Shepard's crew is interviewed about her relationship with Garrus.

Notes:

Kinkmeme fill asking for Shepard and Garrus from the crew's POV. Prompt here: http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/5367.html?thread=20919543t20919543

Chapter 1

The camera focuses on a woman, in her late thirties, maybe, with dark hair and an impatient expression.  The infographic along the bottom of the screen identifies her as Ashley Williams, second human Spectre, who served under Commander Shepard in the Battle of the Citadel and the latter half of the Reaper War.

“Do you know how many documentaries have already been made?” Williams asks.  She listens for a moment to whoever is behind the camera.  “You're going to focus on what?  I don't have time for this.”  She walks away, and the camera follows unevenly as the interviewer runs after her.

* * * * *

Ashley double-checked her rifle as the shuttle hit the atmosphere.  Garrus sat on the bench across from her, doing the same.  Shepard was next to him, their armor occasionally clanking together as one or the other of them shifted.  Done with her own checks, Shepard stood as the shuttle began its final descent, watching the camera feeds for any sign of the mercenary group they were there to clean out.

The shuttle hit a patch of turbulence and tilted sharply.  Shepard put a hand on Garrus's shoulder to steady herself, and he caught her by the hip at the same time.  She let go as the shuttle righted itself, but he held on a second longer than was strictly necessary.  Ashley repressed a frown.  She liked Garrus, considered him a friend, but she did not understand interspecies relationships.  Asari, maybe.  They at least looked almost human.  But turians?  She looked at them and thought “lizard”.  How could any human be attracted to that?

Ashley pushed those thoughts aside as they hit the landing zone.  However incomprehensible she found Shepard's choice of romantic partners, there was a mission to do.  

Shepard was out first and took her usual place at point.  Garrus and Ashley followed, watching the perimeter as they moved into the mercenary base.   The two guards by the entrance went down easily enough, but Ashley felt on edge as they failed to encounter any other resistance.  The place was a warren, and making sure each passage was clear before continuing forward was slowing them down more than she liked.

They turned a corner and found their way blocked by a locked door.

“Bingo,” Shepard said.  Ashley could hear her grin even through the helmet.  Shepard fiddled with the lock for a second, then shook her head.  “You're up, Garrus.”  He set to work, and she motioned for Ashley to keep watch back the way they came.

“I'm still not reading anything beyond the door,” Ashley said.

“I'm not either, but you disappeared from my scanner a couple of times coming in.  Something in here is interfering.”  Shepard drummed her fingers against her shotgun impatiently.  Garrus half-turned his head and she stopped.

“Got it,” he said a few seconds later.  The door slid open on a dozen or more well-armed mercs, all pointing their weapons toward the doorway.  Garrus and Shepard dove for cover on either side of the doorway as the mercs opened fire.  He had further to go than she did, and one of the rounds punched through his shields and into his shoulder.  His curse didn't make it through the translator.  Ashley sent an answering round of gunfire into the mercenaries, taking one down and making the rest scramble for cover of their own.  She caught Garrus's nod to Shepard out of the corner of her eye, then Shepard whipped around the  edge of the door, charging in to shoot the mercs at point-blank range.  One of them tried to stab her in the back with his omni-blade, but the blade had barely materialized before his head jerked back from the force of a well-placed bullet.

Ashley hadn't even gotten a read on the man yet.  She gave herself a mental shake and took up Shepard's vacated position by the door.  The mercs were thoroughly distracted by Shepard's one-woman charge, and Ashley and Garrus were able to pick them off with ease.  It was over in a matter of minutes.

“You okay?” Ashley asked Garrus as Shepard poked around the room to see if she could figure out what had interfered with their scanners.  

He rolled his injured shoulder. “Went straight through.  Didn't even lose much blood before the medigel kicked in.”

Shepard finished her sweep and they headed back through the corridors to the exit.  After a few minutes, Ashley realized she was waiting for Shepard to say or do something about Garrus's injury, and then felt ridiculous for doing so.  The mission wasn't over till they were back on the Normandy, he was up and moving with no obvious discomfort, and he'd already indicated he was good to go.  There was no reason for Shepard to address it now other than her relationship with him, and neither of them were the kind of people to let that get in the way of their duties.

It was only when they were safely back on the shuttle that Shepard ran a hand over his armor, frowning as she fingered the hole in the metal.  “Just the one?” she asked.

“There's a matching one in the back,” Garrus said, then had to lean forward as she pushed at his shoulder to see for herself.  He caught Ashley's eye and sighed.  In spite of her mixed feelings about them, her mouth twitched up at the picture he made of universal male forbearance.

“See Chakwas before you patch your armor up this time,” Shepard said.  She sat back down next to him and Ashley couldn't help but notice she was a little closer than she'd been on the shuttle ride down.  Ashley tilted her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.  If they could get the job done without their feelings for each other getting in the way, she needed to do the same.  One more thing to pray about.

* * * * *

The camera catches up with Williams and she glares hard enough that the view pulls back a step.  

“They were always professional on duty,” she snaps.  “Anything else was none of my business.”

She stalks off again, and this time the camera stays put.

* * * * *

A well-muscled man in fatigues is standing at a bar, shaking his head.  James Vega, Alliance Marine and N7 graduate, the banner beneath him says.

“Naw, I had no idea Shepard had a thing going with Vakarian.  Found out after the Reapers hit.  How?  I need more drinks in me before I share that story.”

The video feed goes black for a second.  When it comes back on, Vega is at a table, four bottles in front of him.  

“Still not drunk enough,” he says.  

The feed cuts out and back on again.  There are ten bottles on the table now.  Vega looks somewhere to the right of the camera and shakes his head.  He mimes taking a drink and almost loses his balance as he leans too far back.

Another flicker of black, and Vega has his head on the table, snoring.  Too many bottles to count litter the table.  A hand enters the camera's field of vision and pokes Vega in the arm.  He doesn't respond.  A heavy sigh is heard, and the video cuts off permanently.

* * * * *

The camera hovers at a more respectful distance from the asari than it did its previous subjects.  Liara T'Soni is sitting at a desk, hands folded in front of her.  There are several datapads with blank screens spread out before her.  

“It was common knowledge that their relationship began before Garrus rejoined the crew during the Reaper War.”  One of the datapads flashes, and T'Soni glances down and taps it a few times before it goes dark again.  “You'll have to be more specific with your questions.”  She pauses for a moment.  “Yes, I knew before that.  We were – are – friends.”

* * * * *

It was good to be back on the Normandy.  Liara had been half-joking when she suggested that she and Shepard could catch up later on the ship.  Shepard was in the middle of preparing for a suicide run after all, and Liara had to learn how to step into the shoes of the best known information broker in the galaxy.  But Feron assured her he could handle things for a couple of hours, so here she was, getting a very thorough tour of the new Normandy.  Liara was surprised Shepard hadn't pulled open a panel and invited her to go crawling through a maintenance shaft yet.  In truth, she was more interested in simply listening to Shepard talk, happy to just be with her after two years of grief and worry and guilt.

She was still worried, if she was being honest with herself.  Shepard seemed much the same, but even as she showed off the ship with evident delight, Liara didn't miss the way she withdrew a little as she interacted with the Cerberus crew.  She doubted they noticed, but Liara remembered how Shepard had been on the first Normandy and could see the difference.

The tour ended in engineering, and Liara stayed to chat with Tali for a bit while Shepard took care of other business.

“I know,” Tali sighed when Liara brought the subject up as obliquely as she could.  “I worry too.  She comes down a lot more than she did on the old Normandy.  Are you sure you can't stay?”

Liara had never felt more torn. “I can't, Tali.  I wish I could.”  Tali canted her head in her version of a wry smile and let Liara change the subject to lighter topics.  Liara hugged Tali goodbye a little while later and after checking with the ship's AI, took the elevator up to the third level.

The mess was empty except for Shepard and Garrus.  Liara paused as she rounded the corner from the elevator, struck by how relaxed they both looked.  Shepard was leaning a hip on the counter, spoon in one hand, while Garrus cooked something on the stove.  That subtle tension Shepard had carried was gone, and as Liara watched, she shook her head at something Garrus said and hopped up to sit on the counter.

“Is it supposed to look like a grey blob?” she asked, leaning forward precariously and poking at whatever was in the pan.

Garrus smacked her hand away. “This is a turian delicacy.”

“It better be, for what I paid for it.” Shepard sniffed the end of the spoon and made a face.  “You didn't answer the question.”

He didn't respond, and Shepard reached out and nudged his thigh with her foot.  “No,” he said.  “I'm as bad at cooking as you are at dancing.”  

She pushed his leg again, harder.  “You should have said.  I'd have gotten it pre-cooked.”

If a turian could look scandalized, Garrus did.  “You don't pre-cook pultem,” he told her.  Liara blinked.  Pultem was a kind of porridge, and certainly not a delicacy of any sort.  “This will still taste good, even if it doesn't look right.”  He looked down at her foot and his neck darkened.

Liara made a small sound of surprise, and they both startled and looked at her.  “I'm sorry,” she said, wondering how well-versed Shepard was at turian body language.  “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“It's all right.  I was just making sure Garrus got some decent food for a change.”

Garrus met Liara's eyes over Shepard's head.  He knew she knew what pultem was.   “It sounds delicious,” she said and he gave her a grateful look.

“It is,” he said.  “It's nice to have something besides MREs for once.”

“Good.” Shepard jumped down from the counter.  “We can finish catching up in my cabin, Liara.  Garrus, I'll leave you and your turian delicacy alone together.”  He snorted and waved them off.

Shepard stayed relaxed up to her cabin, for which Liara was immensely grateful.  It would hurt more than she wanted to admit if Shepard closed up again around her.  Shepard's continued open demeanor gave Liara the courage to ask about her and Garrus.  If her instincts were right, she would feel much less conflicted about her decision not to rejoin the Normandy's crew.

“It's new,” Shepard admitted.  “And this is a Cerberus ship, so we're trying not to spread it around.”

Liara wanted to laugh in relief.  If Shepard had even one person she could be her old self with, Liara could return to her own ship with a lighter heart.  “He's good for you,” she said.  “I think you smiled more just now than all the rest of my visit.”

“I'm more worried about being good for him,” Shepard sighed.  “The past couple of years were pretty hard.”  Her eyes unfocused for a moment as she stared past her fish tank, then she shook herself and threaded her arm through Liara's.  “But thanks.  And I'm sorry if it seemed like I wasn't glad to have you.”

Liara shook her head.  “I'm sorry I can't go with you.  But I am glad you have friends aboard.”

“Me too,” Shepard said.  “All right, enough of this.  I know I have alcohol up here and I'm not passing up the chance to get the Shadow Broker drunk.”

* * * * *

T'Soni smiles off into the distance, and it takes several tries to recall her attention.

“I was happy they had each other,” she says.  She listens and her smile fades.  “I asked and she told me.” T'Soni sits up straighter, looking every inch the daughter of Matriarch Benezia.  “Might I suggest you do the same?”

The dismissal in her voice is obvious and the camera backs out of the room before switching off.

* * * * *

“It's not often I'm on this side of the camera.”

A view of London stretches out behind the table the woman sits at.  There is no helpful infographic to identify her.  The longest running host of Battlespace needs none.  She raises her eyebrows.

“What, no 'Did I know?'  That's what I hear you've been asking everyone else.” Diana Allers takes a sip of her drink.  “It was the perfect human interest story.  I never covered it because Shepard wouldn't have let it leave the ship.  First and only time I've handed over editorial power, but it was worth it to be on the Normandy.”

She lets out an exasperated breath at another question.  “Look, if you want to do this kind of work, you need to learn to listen better.” Allers pauses as if waiting for a response, then shakes her head when none is forthcoming.  She leans forward. “I'm not on the Normandy now.”

* * * * *

It was different, living on a ship for an extended period of time.  Diana was used to traveling all over the galaxy, but those were there-and-back trips.  Here she wasn't a passenger and wasn't part of the crew, putting her in a strange, undefined position that left the Alliance soldiers faintly hostile when they weren't ignoring her altogether.  The hostility she could handle.  Being ignored was a new experience.

Even her job was altered.  She was doing almost nothing but straight reporting.  She'd had one brief interview with Shepard shortly after arriving on board, but mostly she was just passing along information.  The latest front in the war, the latest, necessarily vague, news from the resistance movements, the latest planets hit, the latest casualty numbers.  To keep herself sane, she'd started to investigate little mysteries on the ship.  Like why the panel near the men's bathroom kept coming loose (James Vega had a tendency to bang his fist against it when he had to wait in line), or who kept eating all the outer leaves off of the inoa fruits (Gabby Daniels liked to chew on them when she was working through a sticky engineering problem).

Diana's current puzzle involved one of the chairs in the lounge and why one side was more worn than the other.  The upper right side, to be precise.  The back had a small dip there, and the fabric was softer and looser than on the other side.  She'd tried sitting in the chair and resting her elbow behind her in that spot, but the back was too tall to do so comfortably.  Maybe if she was a turian.

That was a good thought, but while the few times she'd found Vakarian in the lounge he'd been sitting in that particular chair, he'd had the wrong arm slung over its back.  Further excursions to the lounge during the various shifts failed to turn up anything else.  It was almost to the point where she was seriously considering breaking one of her self-appointed rules not to ask EDI for information.  Almost.

She took the advice of a colleague instead.  Diana and Emily Wong weren't exactly friends – they worked for competing networks and the topics they covered were different enough that they rarely ran into each other in the field – but there was enough mutual respect between them that Diana had felt comfortable telling Emily that she'd really wanted Emily's job when she first started.  Making elcors cry was satisfying in its own way, but Diana got into journalism with the notion that she'd be doing investigative work, exposing corruption and breaking the big story that no one else had even known was a story.  She'd turned out not to have the patience for it, a point Emily drove home when Diana expressed admiration for her latest exposé on eezo contamination in human colony food.

“That story took me two years to put together,” Emily had said over the vidlink.  “I hit a brick wall after the first year and had to put it aside for other stories.  Sometimes you run out of leads and have to let the story come to you in its own time.”

So Diana put the Mystery of the Lounge Chair to the side.  She still went to the lounge from time to time; it had the only bar on the ship and after some reports she needed a stiff drink.  Like now.  She'd just finished her report on Cerberus' attack on Grissom Academy, and while she'd focused on the rescue, she kept thinking about all of the kids the Normandy hadn't been in time for.  

The lounge was empty except for Vakarian, seated in his usual spot with a beer in one hand.  He looked up when she entered and she got the impression that he expected someone else.  She poured herself some whiskey and sat.  The observation window was open, so she looked out at the stars and tried not to think about what a terrorist group with a history of human experimentation was going to do with a bunch of frightened teenagers.  Vakarian didn't try to make small talk, though he did tip his beer toward her in acknowledgment when she glanced at him.  Diana wondered what he thought about the whole thing.

The door to the lounge opened and Shepard walked in.  Vakarian sat up a little straighter and she smiled at him as she went to the bar.  “Allers,” she said by way of greeting.  “That any good?” She looked at the glass in Diana's hand.

“It's . . . strong,” Diana said.  

“Sounds perfect.” Shepard poured herself a double.  “I reviewed your story and sent it on.  It was much cheerier than my briefing.”  She half-perched on the back of Vakarian's chair, one foot resting on the arm, the other on the floor.  The position pressed her thigh against his shoulder and she leaned her weight on a hand put oh-so-casually behind his cowl.  With anyone else, the contact would have looked incidental.  For Shepard, it was tantamount to sitting in Vakarian's lap and cooing pet names at him.

“I have the luxury of leaving details out.  There aren't going to be many happy stories in this war.” Diana compared where Shepard was sitting to the dip on the chair's back.  It matched exactly.  She drew a line through her mental list in satisfaction.

Shepard gave a tight laugh. “True.  Well, should we drink to putting lipstick on a pig?”  Diana met her smile with one of her own and they raised their glasses to each other.  Vakarian looked back and forth between them, confused.

“Why would you – ?”

Shepard patted his shoulder. “Old human saying.  I'll explain it later.”  She downed half of her drink in a quick motion that had Diana's throat burning in sympathy.  Diana sipped at her own drink, not missing how Shepard's hand lingered on Vakarian's shoulder, or how his hand had wrapped itself loosely around her ankle.  There was another story, if she wanted it.  She could probably even convince Shepard to let her run it.  Two lovers finding each other on the battlefield, overcoming the differences between their species to fight against the biggest threat the galaxy had ever known?  The day she couldn't sell that as a morale booster was the day she stopped being a reporter.

And the day she needed that to raise morale was the day she didn't deserve to be a reporter anymore.  It was the easy story, and Diana Allers did not do easy.

She finished her drink and excused herself.  Even a short break was enough to fill her inbox and the next segment wasn't going to write itself.  Diana glanced back as she left and saw Shepard starting to lean down, Vakarian's hand moving up to her knee, before the door closed on them.

* * * * *

There is a pregnant pause when Allers finishes her story.

“Not what you were looking for?” she asks.  “Look, what are you trying to do here?  Do you want this to be honest or are you just looking to make a quick buck?”  The camera jerks.  “Okay, okay.” Allers makes calming motions with her hands.  “I just don't understand why you haven't gone to the source yet.  First rule of journalism, right?”

There is another, longer pause.  Allers sighs and shakes her head. “Your choice.”  She leans back, amusement on her face. “Send me a copy when you're done.  Who knows, you might prove me wrong.”

Chapter 2

Jeff “Joker” Moreau lounges in a well-padded chair. His beard has gone grey, but otherwise he looks exactly the same as he did in vids taken shortly after the end of the war.

“I am so not the person to ask about this sort of thing,” he says. “I don't know why you think it was some big secret. They never really bothered to hide it.” A look of skepticism passes over his face. “An illustrative example? I guess I can come up with something.”

* * * * *

“So,” Joker swiveled his chair as Shepard walked up from the bridge. “I hear the asari finally decided to join the war effort.”

“Don't get me started,” Shepard said. “And I won't ask how you know that already.” She scrubbed a hand through her hair and sighed.

“Hey, I need to know what war zone my ship is going to next.”

“Your ship?”

“I'll share her with you, but anyone else has to get their own,” Joker said with a cheeky grin. Shepard rolled her eyes, then glanced at the empty chair next to him.

“Where's EDI?”

“I am always here, Shepard,” EDI's voice said.

“She means your 'mobile platform',” Joker made air quotes with his fingers. Ever since Shepard had mentioned the turian councilor had picked up the gesture, he did it every chance he got, just to watch her eye twitch.

“Oh. It is with Engineer Adams. Do you require my physical presence on the bridge?”

“It's nothing that can't wait till we leave dock,” Shepard said. She sighed again. She looked tired and distracted, and Joker wondered – not for the first time – how the hell Anderson thought he was supposed to help with Shepard's stress levels. He was good - no, great - at flying ships; he had no idea why anyone ever thought he'd be good at people stuff. A guy could only have so much genius.

The airlock opened as Joker pondered this mystery. Garrus entered and changed course to the cockpit when he caught sight of Shepard standing there. He touched her hand briefly in greeting and she gave him a quick squeeze in return.

“How are the refugees?” Shepard asked as Garrus exchanged nods with Joker.

“Not much change. Tactus has been dealing with bureaucrats for weeks to get emergency rations released. Finally came through today. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that?”

Shepard shrugged. “Weren't doing anyone any good just sitting there.”

“What, were they waiting for a bigger emergency?” Joker asked.

“Something like that,” Garrus muttered. Shepard put a hand on his arm, and he shook his head. “Don't mind me. Thanks for getting that done.”

Shepard shrugged again and brushed it aside, changing the subject with her usual lack of subtlety. “I see you got some shopping in.” She indicated a small bag in his hand. Garrus looked at it like he had forgotten he had it. “Did you get Tali some chocolate? She was drooling over the ones Dr. Michel gave you.”

“Ah, no. This is for you.” Garrus held it out and Joker was treated to the rare sight of Shepard caught off-guard. Taking the bag, she undid the top and looked in. The corner of her mouth twisted in confusion.

“. . . Glue?”

“For the Kodiak. The model one. In your room.” Shepard looked blankly at him. “One of the back thrusters keeps falling off and I saw this in one of the shops on my way back and thought you could use it . . .” Garrus trailed off awkwardly in the face of her continued non-response. Joker couldn't lean any further back in his chair, but mentally he was settling in to enjoy the show. Garrus was the typical turian combination of uptight and cocky, and Shepard was the only one who ever threw him off his game. Joker knew a lot of people disliked the idea of human-turian relationships, but anything that could make Garrus fidget and ramble like that was aces in his book.

Shepard looked in the bag again, a small, private smile on her face. “I kept meaning to do something about that, but it was never high on the priority list.” She turned the smile on Garrus and just like that his awkwardness disappeared and the show was over. He folded his arms and leaned against the bulkhead, mandibles flaring in a smile of his own.

A thought struck Joker. “I thought you kept your models in a display case,” he said. “I know my flying isn't throwing them around.” They both looked at him, and even he, with his admitted lack of people skills, could read that pause. “You know what, forget I said anything. I don't want to know.”

“Good call,” Shepard said. Damn, she really did look tired. At least the air of distraction was gone. Joker wondered what Anderson would say if he told him Garrus had the “see that Shepard doesn't go completely over the edge” duties covered. Probably not in the way Anderson had in mind, but as far as Joker was concerned, the whole six months under house arrest thing lost the Alliance any say in how Shepard – or any of them, really - managed her affairs. And if that was a problem, well, Joker had flown off with the Normandy once before under Shepard.

* * * * *

“And then what? Shepard went to the war room and Garrus went to mess around with the main guns some more. I never said it was going to be a good example.” Moreau redistributes his weight, grimacing. “If you want some big romantic story, go talk to Liara. Or EDI,” he adds after a moment's thought. “Actually, EDI would be a great idea. Go bother her.”

Moreau glances off to the side and grins. “Hey, good timing,” he says as the Normandy's former AI walks into the camera's field of vision. He hoists himself up and kisses her on the cheek. “I'll let you two chat.”

The camera swings to follow him as he walks off, then swings back to EDI. She has her head tilted at an at angle that for a human would indicate the other party is being assessed. The silence lasts just beyond what is comfortable before she speaks. “Jeff is correct. I can provide a more traditionally romantic anecdote.”

EDI sits in the chair Moreau vacated and levels an unblinking gaze at the camera. “Long-term interspecies relationships are rarely formed without significant emotional attachment. Your question indicates that you doubt its presence.”

Another focused stare. “No, I observed it most strongly when they believed themselves alone.”

* * * * *

The Normandy was on its way to the Citadel when Shepard deviated from her routine and stopped by the main battery in the middle of her shift instead of at the end of it. This was unusual enough that EDI assigned some of her idle processes to monitor the situation. Garrus glanced over his shoulder as the door opened and Shepard made a sort of sideways motion at him with her hand that EDI interpreted as a signal to keep working. She made her way over to the workbench on the side of the room and rested her weight against it. Garrus went back to tapping out code, the hum of the battery the only other sound in the room. Shepard looked like she was watching his hands, but the focus of her pupils was inconsistent with the distance between them.

After a few minutes, Garrus finished and set the code to compile. EDI noted that it would improve the accuracy of the thanix cannon by point zero three percent. She made a few alterations to her targeting software to ensure seamless integration.

Garrus went over to Shepard then, and cradled her head in his hands, leaning his own head down to touch the top of hers. It was one of the few turian gestures EDI had observed between them. Most of their physical interactions were based on human models of courtship. Shepard let out a huff of air.

“That obvious, huh?”

“As a krogan with a grudge.”

“Damn.”

“It was a good death, Shepard.”

Recent missions had incurred no casualties. EDI pulled the lists of reported deaths and searched for any with personal significance to Shepard. A former N7 classmate was killed in action three days ago, but Shepard had not maintained contact after graduation. There were no other matches in the past two weeks.

“His nephew wrote me. Said he hoped to be able to live up to his example.”

Garrus ran his thumbs over Shepard's cheekbones as EDI went searching back through Shepard's personal correspondence. There. Dated twenty-three standard days ago from a member of the Solus clan.

That was not what EDI expected. Shepard had spoken of Mordin Solus's death shortly after it occurred, but EDI had not observed any behavior that would indicate it was still foremost in her mind. Shepard had not mentioned it to Garrus recently either, and EDI was privy to all conversation aboard the Normandy. Shepard's cabin was the exception, but Garrus had only been up once since the scientist's death, and that had been twelve days ago. It was not logical that he would know which particular death was affecting Shepard. But he had, which meant EDI was either lacking crucial information, or her parameters were insufficient. She would ask Shepard about it later. Without making reference to the current conversation, because while Shepard was willing to answer general questions about human romance, she became reticent when pressed on details of her own.

Shepard took hold of Garrus's hands and brought them down from her face to the space between their bodies. She spent some time watching her fingers brush over his knuckles. “Can you come up tonight?” she asked quietly.

“I don't think so. Victus wants my input on a few things, and he's back on Palaven time. I'd just wake you up.”

“It's not like I can't roll over and fall back asleep.”

Garrus's browplates drew down in confusion and one side of Shepard's mouth went up. She took her own turn at cradling his head in her hands.

“I want you in my bed for more than your reach, Vakarian.”

For a nanosecond, EDI considered cutting her feeds. This was approaching topics which Shepard had previously asked her not to monitor. But Shepard was more than willing to request privacy when she desired it. She had not so far, so EDI allowed the feeds to continue.

Garrus made a sound in his throat that typically indicated nervousness or discomfort in turians, though both seemed at odds with the intent way he was looking at Shepard. “I'm never going to live that line down, am I?” he asked.

“Not until you come up with something even better.”

Garrus put his hands along the side of her torso. “Hmm, a challenge.” He slowly slid his hands around to press flat against her back.

“Well?” Shepard asked when he didn't respond further.

“I'll be up.”

Shepard dropped her hands to the wide collar of his armor to steady herself as she rose slightly on the balls of her feet to give him a quick kiss. Garrus tightened his grip to keep her there when she tried to settle back down on her heels. “We're still on duty,” she murmured to him, as he drew her closer until the upper half of her body was pressed against the curve of his armor. It seemed a pointless exercise on his part, since the armor's external surface provided no sensory feedback. Unless the increased proximity was the primary goal and actual touch was secondary? EDI filed the question away in a subdirectory marked for further exploration.

“Call it personal incentive to be efficient with Victus later.” He held her there a few moments longer, before releasing her with an almost inaudible sigh. “Shepard,” he said, as she started to leave. “It was a good death.”

Her lips compressed and her eyebrows drew together. “Sure.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “I know. I do know. I'll see you tonight.”

It was fascinating, the way Shepard's posture changed when she left. As she passed through the main battery's door, her shoulders squared and her head went back a fraction of a degree. Garrus did almost the opposite as the door closed behind her. His chest sunk a little, and the angle of his head to the rest of his body softened. EDI contemplated the differences in their reactions until an unexpected power surge in engineering required the use of all non-critical processing resources.

* * * * *

“Increased attention to the psychological well-being of the other person, exclusive emotional divulgence, and physical affection are hallmarks of a romantic relationship, but you appear dissatisfied.”

EDI crosses her legs. “Beyond her friendship with Dr. Mordin Solus? I do not know why his death affected her so strongly. You would have to ask Shepard that question.” The camera jerks. “It is the most efficient course of action. I am aware of her history with your species, but Shepard is unlikely to shoot you on sight.”

There is another, much longer pause. By the end of it, EDI's mouth is turned up at the corners. “He is more likely to shoot you than Shepard. I would recommend a slow approach and empty hands.”

* * * * *

A scarred man stands in front of a small house surrounded by lush foliage, examining the label of a bottle of liquor. It seems to pass inspection, because Zaeed Massani opens the door of the house. “All right, you've bought yourself half an hour.”

The inside is sparse, and Massani wastes no time in opening the bottle and pouring himself a glass. “Heard about what you're doing. Got tired of hearing a bunch of romantic tripe?”

Massani makes a derisive noise as he sits and props his feet up on the low table in the middle of the room. “Maybe they thought they weren't being obvious. But I know what you want. You want a fight. Don't think you'll like it when I'm done, but I was there for one of those.”

* * * * *

Zaeed was too old to deal with this shit. Other than a few terse words, there had been no conversation after Shepard prevented Vakarian from killing his former teammate. A determined sort of silence had settled over the car's interior as they sat in the front, not looking at each other and pointedly not talking. Well, they might have decided the return trip was best spent in silence, but that didn't mean he had to play along.

“This a habit of yours?”

Shepard and Vakarian both jumped a little, like they'd forgotten he was in the car with them. Their eyes met and he watched in amusement as they hesitated, unsure which of them he was talking to. Vakarian looked away first and propped his arm against the door.

“Is what a habit?” Shepard asked.

“This. Undermining your crew by letting the bastards that wronged them walk.”

Shepard stiffened. “No,” she said.

“Thought at first it was just me,” Zaeed continued as if she hadn't spoken. “Asserting your authority or some such bullshit.” That made Shepard watch Vakarian out of the corner of her eye. He stared straight ahead, hand curled into a fist. “But Vakarian falls in line like a new recruit, so maybe this is just how you get your kicks.”

“Shut it, Massani,” Vakarian growled.

Zaeed might have left it there, since he'd succeeded in needling them both after they'd completely wasted his time, but he was still pissed about Vido getting away. Besides, it was a goddamn shame for a woman like Shepard to go for a turian. Especially one as dense as Vakarian. When a man had a woman looking at him the way Shepard did, he ought to have the decency to take her home and fuck her.

“No? Well, what's the reason then? Sounded like your guy deserved it, and there wasn't a burning factory to use as an excuse.”

“It wasn't about what he deserved,” Shepard bit out.

“No, you thought he already got what he deserved,” Vakarian said, his subharmonics dangerously low. Hell, this was turning out better than Zaeed had hoped. He sat back to enjoy the fireworks.

“Yes, I did.”

“What about what the people he betrayed deserved?”

“They're dead. Killing Sidonis wasn't going to change that.”

Vakarian drew in a breath so sharp it was almost a hiss. Shepard kept her eyes firmly focused on the traffic, and after a moment he turned his head away from her to stare out the opposite window. She did glance at him then, and her hands tightened over the car's controls, but she didn't apologize.

“Spectre authority,” he finally said, and that must have been part of some previous conversation, because Shepard actually flinched a little at the bitterness in his voice. “It wasn't your call, Shepard.”

Shepard got a look in her eyes then, one that Zaeed recognized. It said she was about to do something for Vakarian's own good, and the way her shoulders tensed said she didn't expect to be forgiven for it. “No, it wasn't. It was yours, and you made it.” Vakarian made an incredulous sound, but Shepard went on, ruthless. “I wasn't in your shot at the end. There was nothing stopping you. I made you think about it, but you were the one who chose not to pull the trigger.”

Vakarian's armor creaked as he clenched his fist harder, but he didn't deny her words. Zaeed tried not to roll his eyes. It figured that he'd be just as soft a touch as Shepard when it came down to it. The car banked right as Shepard brought it back into the taxi stand. Her parking job took up two spaces, but she didn't seem to care. Vakarian reached for the door.

“You made the right decision.”

Vakarian paused for a split second, then he pushed the door open and exited the car without responding. Shepard sat for a moment longer before turning around to pin Zaeed with her stare.

“Do that again and I'll throw you off the ship and have Cerberus pull every credit they gave you and then some. Whatever beef you have with me, leave the rest of the crew out of it.”

Zaeed just smirked. He'd gotten his satisfaction.

Vakarian was already waiting by the elevator. He seemed to have cooled his head a bit, because as Shepard approached he straightened into the turian version of at attention. She either didn't recognize it or didn't understand the significance, because she gave him a wary look before hitting the elevator's call button. She did recognize the way he fell behind her in his usual position and she couldn't quite hide the look of relief that passed over her face.

The rest of the crew. Right. Least now Zaeed knew how to get under Shepard's skin. Always useful information to have.

And Vakarian was still dense as a fucking brick.

* * * * *

Massani is watching the camera with open amusement. He shakes his head.

“How old are you? Shit - really? Kid, you only fight like that for two reasons. Either you hate the other person's guts and you're looking for an excuse to shove a gun in their face, or they're the best goddamn thing that's ever happened to you.”

Massani rises and puts the bottle in a small cabinet by the kitchen. “Also, your half hour's up. Get out of my house.”

Chapter 3: Interlude

[Incoming vidlink request. Source: unknown. Accept/Deny?]
[User input: Accept]

“Shepard, it's good to see you.”

“You know, someday I'm going to accept a request from an unknown source and end up seeing something I don't want to.”

“I – what?”

“Never mind. Hold on a second, Liara, I need to - ”

“Shepard?”

“Ow.”

“Shepard, are you all right?”

“Fine, I'm fine. Got my prosthetic upgraded a couple days ago and it's about an inch too short.”

“And Garrus hasn't rigged something up for you?”

“Garrus has been too busy laughing his ass off. He thinks it's funny to catch me when I trip and quote lines from bad romances at me. The replacement's on its way, so I let him have his fun. So what's the problem?”

“Can't I call just to catch up?”

“It would be a first.”

“Shepard!”

“Sorry. But you know you missed the anniversary this year?”

“No, I didn't. Joker got drunk and challenged Wrex to arm wrestle.”

“And then nominated EDI for his stand-in, yes. That was two years ago, Liara.”

“No, it – oh. Oh, Goddess, you're right. Shepard, I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be. I'm glad to see it starting to be something people can forget.”

“Still, I should have been there.”

“Don't worry about it. So, you going to tell me why you called?”

“Yes, of course. There's been another documentary maker going around. She seems to be focusing exclusively on your and Garrus's relationship during the war.”

“I heard about that. If people want to talk to her, it's fine. I trust the Normandy's crew, and I don't care what anyone else might say about us.”

“What exactly did you hear?”

“Just what you said. Why, you dig up some dirt I should know about?”

“Shepard, she's a batarian.

“Shepard?”

“Oh . . . yeah, that part got left out.”

“I thought you should know.”

“Do you know why? This is the last thing in my life I'd expect a batarian to care about.”

“I don't. I'm not sure she does either. I've talked to the others she's interviewed, and she seems to think you were either hiding your relationship or were putting it on as some kind of stunt to prove you didn't have a pro-human bias.”

“What, both at the same time?”

“She's very young, Shepard.”

“Of course she is.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Hell, Liara, if the worse she wants to do is paint my love life as some kind of PR stunt, let her. Of all the ways her people have dealt with the aftermath of the war, that's pretty harmless.”

“All right. I'll pass that along.”

“No more time to chat?”

“I'd like to, but I'm - ”

“Busy. I know. Thanks for the information.”

“Of course. I'll contact you if I learn anything else.”

[Vidlink terminated at external end]

Chapter 4: Chapter 3

The camera holds steady on a battle-scarred krogan, who regards it with barely concealed amusement.

“Your kind always did have a quad.” Urdnot Wrex grunts, and the camera pans down to the small child of indeterminate gender doing its best to make Wrex's knee buckle. He reaches down and hoists the child up to his shoulder, where it immediately begins trying to crawl between his neck and his hump.

“Shepard and Garrus, huh? Never understood it myself, but it wasn't that surprising.”

* * * * *

“Glad you brought him back in one piece.” Wrex watched as Grunt introduced himself to one of Urdnot's scouts. Head first. Shepard rubbed her own forehead in sympathy.

“Didn't take him long to start making friends,” she said. She shifted her weight to one side and folded her arms, scanning the rest of the camp. “Taking down a thresher maw still didn't convince the skeptics?”

“What, that?” Wrex snorted. “I thought you knew us better. It's not serious until someone pulls a gun.”

“I remember,” Shepard said with a wry smile. Her gaze focused, and the smile widened into something softer. Wrex was unsurprised to follow her line of sight out near the perimeter of the camp, where Garrus was talking shop with Wrex's chief scout. Garrus seemed to feel the look, because his head turned their way and his mandibles flared. Wrex still found humans difficult to read at times. They were just close enough to asari that their facial expressions were familiar, but their body language made no sense at all. A turian like Garrus though, that was an open book. He was acting like a young krogan the first time a breeding request was accepted: shocked that they'd actually been picked, with an edge that dared anyone to challenge it. Of course, krogans lost that look after the mating took place. Shepard had Garrus's scent all over her, so who knew what the turian's problem was.

Wrex chuckled, and Shepard's attention returned to him. She tilted her head in a way that exposed more of her neck, but meant inquisitiveness, not submission. Humans.

“Just thinking. It's too bad you aren't krogan,” Wrex said. “We could use more blood like yours.” And she had the right instincts, mating with someone who'd proved himself on the battlefield.

Shepard hummed thoughtfully. “I can think of a few times the redundant organs would have come in handy.”

“Smart, too. We can definitely use more of that.”

She laughed outright. “Well, Grunt should help there. Okeer may have implanted a bunch of information in his head, but he was smart enough to make his own decisions about it.” She sent an almost proud look in Grunt's direction. “It was an honor to have him on the crew. He'll be an asset to Clan Urdnot.”

“Save the speech, Shepard. I already accepted him.”

“Wasn't sure if 'battlemaster' meant I had to give a recommendation for his next post.”

“He was with you and came back alive. It's his job to make the rest of the clan know the worth of that.”

Shepard was quiet for moment. “I can't tell if you just insulted me or gave me a compliment,” she said. Wrex grinned at her. He caught the crunch of gravel just before her eyes shifted to his right, and she smiled.

“I'd go with compliment,” Garrus said. “Krogan insults aren't exactly subtle.”

Wrex had to give him credit. He almost sounded normal. And then Garrus went and stood just inside Shepard's reach, something no self-respecting warrior would do unless he knew he was in no danger from the other person. It was almost enough to make Wrex sorry he'd turned Shepard down during her earlier visit. Poking fun at turians wasn't a game he'd gotten tired of yet.

“You around for a while?” Wrex asked Shepard. “I've got a few heads that could do with getting knocked around by a squishy human.”

“Sorry, Wrex. You'll have to knock heads yourself. Other than a drop-off at the Citadel, this is the last stop before heading back to the Alliance.”

“Too bad. I would have made a lot of money betting on you.”

Shepard laughed, but her smile wasn't quite as wide as it had been a moment before. Garrus had gone all stiff at the mention of the Alliance. Now he reminded Wrex of a whelp before his rite of passage – all anger with no target. Huh.

Wrex kept his observations to himself, but he kept an eye on them both. When they left he still didn't know what had set them off. It wasn't until a week later, when news of the Alpha Relay reached Tuchanka, that their reactions made sense. Shepard's name wasn't mentioned – that would take another two weeks, along with news of her arrest – but he knew she'd been involved. Her reasons came even later, and by then Wrex was making his own plans. The Reapers were coming and the galaxy would turn to the krogan to save it once again. And this time, Wrex would see that his people got payment up front.

* * * * *

The camera is shaking ever so slightly.

“Oh,” Wrex says. “Maybe that was a bad example.”

The child's feet kick on one side of his neck, while its hands grasp his head plate on the other side. It makes a squeaky sort of growl and tries to bang its head against Wrex's hands when he reaches up to unclasp its fingers. Wrex never takes his eyes away from the camera. It steadies, and Wrex starts to grin.

“Knew it.” he says. “Something about the eyes. He ever tell you about the first time he met Shepard? Thought not.” Wrex takes a step closer so that he looms over the camera. “Shepard can take care of herself, but I don't like fights that pretend to be something else. Too salarian.” He stares for a long moment, before stepping back again.

“Something to think about.”

* * * * *

Steve Cortez sits at a kitchen table in a small apartment. He looks curious, but not hostile.

“Serving on the Normandy during the war was an honor. Shepard was one of the best officers I've ever served under.” It is a simple statement of fact. Cortez listens politely for a moment, fiddling with a ring on his left hand.

“I didn't pick up on it right away, but it was obvious in retrospect. Little things, you know? Maybe if Garrus had been human, I'd have noticed sooner, but you don't expect that with a turian.” Cortez shrugs, “Nothing against Garrus or the commander, it just wasn't something I was looking for.”

* * * * *

Steve brought the shuttle down gently, hovering inches from the ground in front of the Cerberus bunker. The briefing said it was minimally staffed and home to some stolen tech the Alliance wanted back. The last team that tried never came back, which meant Shepard got one more thing on her plate. Cerberus meant James on the away team. And Garrus, but that was a given. Shepard took him on just about every mission. They'd been fighting together the longest out of anyone on the ship, so it wasn't surprising that she preferred having him in her squad. The kind of teamwork you got from long association wasn't easy to replicate.

“Okay, this shouldn't take long. Don't go too far, Steve, we may need to bug out.” Shepard followed her squad out of the shuttle and Steve lifted off from the landing zone.

This was always the part he hated, listening to the ground team on the comm and knowing there was little he could do if they got in trouble. He hovered until he saw them disappear inside, then started a looping patrol around the area, keeping an eye out for any surprises. The last Cerberus mission ended with a heavy mech dropped between his team and him, and he'd be damned if he let that happen again.

Steve was on his second loop when he caught the shine of metal and pulled back around for a closer look. Another entrance was tucked away beneath an overhang of rock. The lock on the door engaged as he watched. Damn. He opened the comm link.

“Shepard?”

//Watch your four, James! Yeah, Cortez, go ahead.

“I found a back door, and it looks like it was just used. Backup may be on its way.”

//That would explain why they suddenly got aggressive. Send us the navpoint and stay there until I tell you otherwise. I have a feeling we'll be coming out that way.

“Done. I'll keep it clear for you, ma'am.”

The next few minutes of comm traffic were filled with gun shots and the terse communication of people under fire. The sound of fighting lessened, and Shepard spoke again, sounding a little strained.

//That looks like the lab. Garrus, get the door and grab the tech. We'll stay here and keep them off your back.

More gunfire.

//Cortez, get ready. We'll be coming out hot.

Steve positioned the shuttle for a quick drop-down. “Ready, commander.”

//Shepard, there's a problem.

//James -

//I've got it here. Go ahead.

//Garrus, what – shit.

That wasn't good. Steve kept an eye on his scanners. He couldn't help with whatever was going on inside, but he could keep the extraction point clear.

//We can't leave him here. Hey, can you walk?

Steve couldn't quite hear the answer, but Shepard took it in the affirmative.

//All right. We'll help you out. Where's the tech?

//I think it's inside of him.

//. . . goddamn Cerberus. Okay, let's go, people.

Minutes later, the back door opened, and the team came out in what was politely referred to as a controlled retreat. Steve had dropped down the second he saw the lock go green again, and was waiting with doors open. James got there first and took position as Garrus and Shepard followed, carrying a barely conscious batarian between them.

“In,” Shepard said shortly. Garrus jumped up and reached down for the batarian. Shots hit the side of the shuttle, and Shepard's sharp intake of breath was magnified over the still open comm link. She pushed the batarian in the rest of the way and grasped the edge of the shuttle door. “Go, Cortez,” she ordered.

Steve went. He heard Garrus grunt and the thudding clank of an armored body hitting the floor before the shuttle door closed.

“Would it kill you to be inside the shuttle for once before it takes off?” Garrus asked. He sounded annoyed.

“It might,” Shepard said. There was another lighter clank. “Is – oh, he's out. Cortez, let Dr. Chakwas know that our new friend will need transportation to the med bay.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Steve risked a glance back as they reached up upper atmosphere. The batarian was slumped in one seat next to James. Garrus stood over Shepard, and she was gripping his forearm with one hand as she sat with a wince. Steve tried to think if he'd ever seen her accepting help from anyone before. The privileges of an old friendship.

They got back to the Normandy without further incident. The batarian was taken off by a couple of ensigns with a makeshift stretcher and Shepard kept the debrief short. She was moving stiffly, and if Steve had to guess, he'd say she had bruises under her armor. Garrus usually headed straight for the elevators after a mission, but this time he hung around until Shepard reemerged from stashing her armor in the storage lockers. Didn't even try to hide what he was doing either. When Shepard raised her eyebrows at him, he just shrugged and his mandibles went out a little.

Garrus went up the elevator with Shepard, and Steve turned back to his console to finish the log for the mission. That was good. He worried that Shepard didn't stop to take care of herself like she did everyone else, but she was still his commanding officer, and there was only so much he could say. He didn't know if it was their friendship or a difference in how turians handled such matters, but Garrus didn't seem to feel the same restrictions on his behavior. It was good.

* * * * *

“The batarian? The doctor got the tech out of him and he healed up on the Normandy. He joined the refugee camp at the Citadel after that. They technically weren't taking any more refugees, but Shepard took him down herself and made sure no one gave him any trouble.”

Cortez gets up and puts his glass in the sink, before turning back to the camera.

“No. Like I said, I didn't know then.” He hesitates for a moment, then goes to the doorway and reaches around to the side table in the next room. “Here,” he says, holding out an OSD. “I was sent this a few days ago. You should go here next.”

* * * * *

The high cliffs of northern Rannoch rise behind where Tali'Zorah vas Normandy stands. She is unmasked, but the delicate features of her face are half-shadowed by the folds of fabric she still wears about her head and shoulders. She is looking at an OSD curiously.

“This didn't come from me,” Tali'Zorah says. She pulls up her omni-tool. “May I?” A moment later she is scrolling through the source code. A smile tugs at the edge of her lips, and she shuts down her omni-tool and returns the OSD.

“That explains the visit,” she says, more to herself than the camera. She folds her arms, thinking. “You are asking about two of my closest friends,” she says finally. “Why don't we take a walk while I think about it?”

* * * * *

Tali would be lying if she said she'd missed this. Dodging bullets and avoiding huge electromagnetic shockwaves was not her idea of fun. The latter clipped her as she dove for cover, and her shields overloaded and went down. She swore under her breath and called Chiktikka back to keep the geth off of her while her shields recharged. A second later, Shepard landed next to her.

“It's always geth with you,” Shepard said. She let the next shockwave pass over them before popping up to unload on a hunter that was getting too close.

“I thought you could use the break from Reapers,” Tali said, and was rewarded with laughs from both Shepard and Garrus.

Shepard looked back and motioned to Garrus. He nodded and in the next lull made a dash for one of the ramps and higher ground. “I'm not complaining,” she said. “It's nice to shoot something that doesn't bleed for once.”

Tali didn't know how to respond to that. Battlefield banter was normal for Shepard – and was barely disguised flirting when she and Garrus started up – but there was a dark undercurrent to Shepard's words that made Tali feel how ill-timed her people's war was all over again.

“Shields back?” Shepard asked, bringing Tali back to the task at hand. Tali nodded, and Shepard rested a hand on her shoulder for a brief second before moving up. The immediate area was clear, thanks to Garrus, and he repositioned himself to cover Shepard as she made her way forward. Tali checked Chiktikka's shields and followed, noting that they still worked together as well as always. Shepard took out a rocket trooper aiming for Garrus's perch, while he put down two platforms approaching from her blind side. Tali felt a twinge of envy. She hadn't missed the firefights, but she had missed the camaraderie and trust.

Trust her people seemed determined to undermine. One “friendly” bombardment and one rescued actually-friendly geth later, the team was racing for the exit, the ship coming apart around them as they went. Three steps away from Legion and his commandeered fighter, the gravity went out. The next explosion sent Tali spinning helplessly out into the air, and in a moment of pure panic, she forgot everything she'd ever learned about moving zero-gravity. Oh, keelah, she thought, flailing her arms desperately as another explosion sent her past Garrus's outstretched hand. Please, no. Please, no.

“Tali.” Shepard's voice was calm in her ear. “Reach to your right.” Tali obeyed without thinking, and felt the solid grasp of a mechanical hand wrap around her wrist. Legion pulled her in and pushed her into the fighter's interior. She wedged herself into the storage area as Garrus appeared a few seconds later. She started to say something as he joined her in the back, some quip to show that she wasn't as shaken as she felt, but he wasn't paying attention to her. His focus didn't waver from the ship's opening until Shepard practically threw herself in. She waved off Legion's concern about comfort, despite there really not being enough room for all three of them. Tali and Garrus were braced against each other as much as they were the ship's hull, but Shepard was left to bounce around as the force from the fleet's bombardment buffeted the ship. When Legion pulled a sharp drop to avoid fire, only Garrus's quick grab for her waist stopped Shepard from banging into the ceiling.

They were going to make it. Tali shook with relief and a bit of after-battle euphoria. Garrus was pressed really close along one side, and one of Shepard's legs was resting over hers. Oh, keelah, Tali thought again, this time for a completely different reason. Knowing it was a normal reaction after a high stress situation did not make her sudden arousal any less embarrassing. She'd have a private session with her nerve-stim program later and not think about this again. Not about the way Garrus's hand was curled around Shepard's waist, or the way her other leg fell between his. And she was not going to remember the pressure of Shepard's hand on her shoulder earlier, and she was definitely not going to finish in her bed and wonder which of them she was more jealous of.

Or she could work off some of the edge by yelling at Han'Gerrel.

Tali grit her teeth. Yes, yelling. Yelling was a good distraction.

* * * * *

Tali'Zorah gives a small laugh and shakes herself out of her thoughts. She turns from the road on to a narrower footpath that cuts down closer to the river. A small house comes into view as she passes a jutting rock formation, and the camera comes to an abrupt halt. There is a car parked in front of the house. Its engine panels are off and a male turian is leaning over the exposed parts. A human woman and a geth stand a few paces behind him. The hand on her hip and the way she is gesturing indicate a heated argument is occurring. The geth gives a response that makes the woman shake her head in exasperation.

“I don't know what you're looking for, but you aren't going to find it by talking to everyone but Shepard.” Tali'Zorah tilts her head up, and for the first time her face is completely illuminated by Rannoch's sun. “The OSD came from them. I don't care if you talk to her or not, but I don't think you'll get any more interviews from anyone else.” She taps something into her omni-tool and leaves back up the path.

There is a slight jostling, and then the back of a batarian slowly comes into the frame, her hands curling and uncurling. The batarian stares at the house for a long, long moment.

“I am the daughter of warriors,” she says softly. “I am not afraid.”

She goes down.

Chapter 5: Epilogue

Shepard sighed and leaned against the doorframe as the girl left. When Liara said the batarian was young, Shepard hadn't realized she meant barely legal. She couldn't have been more than a child during the war. The sun had sunk to the tops of the cliffs, and Shepard had to shield her eyes as she watched the girl go.

Garrus left off working on the car's engine and came over, wiping his hands on a rag. He'd offered to talk too, something he rarely did, but the girl had looked so alarmed at the prospect that he retreated after a surreptitious scan for weapons. Tali would have already checked, but a botched assassination attempt a few years back had left Garrus paranoid on the issue. Shepard too, but she figured if a tech genius and a former cop didn't find anything, she wasn't going to either.

"How'd it go?" he asked

“She turned off the camera about about fifteen minutes in.”

“Not interested in hearing about my charms after all?”

Shepard smiled, but her eyes stayed steady on the girl as she made her way back up the path.

“Hey.” Garrus tapped her artificial foot with his own. “You okay?”

Shepard shrugged the shoulder that wasn't pressed to the door and lowered her hand. “That ruthless calculus feels a little more ruthless every year,” she said.

Garrus examined his talons for a moment. “Aratoht?”

“Family, yeah.” Shepard took the rag from him and shook it out. “She was off-world visiting an uncle.” She folded it in half, and then in half again, pulling each crease tight before repeating the action. “An early nameday treat for her,” she sighed. “I told her about the times I had to make similar decisions with human lives. Tried to show her it wasn't personal animosity towards her kind.”

“Think it helped?” he asked.

“Hell if I know. Half the time I thought she wanted me to be the monster she grew up with, the other half it was like she wanted to be convinced that I wasn't.” The rag couldn't be folded any further, so she settled for squeezing it instead.

“I don't know.” Garrus put his hands over hers to still them. “You scare the shit out of me on a regular basis.”

“Such a romantic.”

“Too bad the rest of the galaxy will never know now.”

Shepard looked at him curiously. “She's still doing the documentary.”

“What?”

“Surprised me too, but she really was interested in a relationship between two people who – how did she put it – 'who were born in the aftermath of war and mutual hatred.'”

Garrus's mandibles dipped in amusement. “Damn, now I'm impressed by us. So when do we get a copy?”

“She wants to to release it to the batarian networks first. I'll have Liara keep an eye out.”

Garrus turned to look at the small figure silhouetted on the top of the ridge. “Brave kid.”

“Yeah.” Shepard thought about the way the girl had tried to hide her fear behind a too-steady mask of professional inquiry. “She is.” Then Shepard laughed. “Listen to us. We sound like a couple of old fogies evaluating the next generation.”

“Speak for yourself.” Garrus pulled her out of the doorway and into a loose embrace. “I think the next generation is doing just fine,” he added, smiling down at her in the way that still made her heart beat faster, even after a decade together.

She smiled back, a little tired, but sincere. “I guess we'll see.”

* * * * *

 On our next show, we'll discuss the newest documentary about the most famous soldier in Alliance history. Batarian reactions are mixed and the young filmmaker is being hailed as both a prodigy and a traitor to her culture. Do the critics have a point, or are old grudges affecting the film's reception? I'll be breaking it down and taking viewers' calls. Until then, this is Diana Allers in the Battlespace.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Kaleidoscope