Chapter Text
Garrus idly rubbed the shoulder that had been dislocated during the fight with Benezia and her commandos as Shepard's hodgepodge team squeezed into the comm room along with the Normandy's officers. The commander had been there when he'd arrived at 0790, giving him a brief nod over a mug of some warm beverage. It smelled spicy, but Shepard just looked at the floor impassively as she sipped it.
It had been a week since they'd left Noveria. Dr. Chakwas had done a good job of patching him up, but his plates made him less flexible in the shoulders than humans. Shepard seemed to have noticed, leaving him out of the landing party for the small-time hits they'd made against the research facilities that Alliance admiral had pointed her to. Garrus had no idea why she was still accepting orders from the Alliance, but when he had questioned her about it during the briefing for the last mission, she'd shrugged. "It's not hard to track down a few rogue research facilities while we're making such a grand tour," she'd said. "If we scratch the Alliance's back now, hopefully they'll scratch ours when we've got geth on it."
Admittedly, she was an equal-opportunity back-scratcher, going out of her way to collect all manner of debris and artifacts that she then turned over to the governments and museums of various Citadel races -- often for modest fees. Still, it rankled Garrus that they'd spent days snooping after some human terrorist organization when they knew there were geth on Feros. Sitting here, watching Shepard quietly and slowly drink, Garrus's jaw clenched, mandibles pulling up tight in frustration.
At 0800 promptly, the commander stood up and all chatter stopped. "We're scheduled to land at the Citadel shortly after 1300," she announced scanning the crowd. "I'm giving the crew 20 hours shore leave, starting at 1400." Her gaze cut over to her XO. "Pressly, I trust you can arrange things." With his nod, she continued. "Now, I'm not one to tell you what to do with your free time, but should any of you pick up anything interesting bits of information as you're out in your various haunts" -- her eyes deliberately made contact with the non-human elements of the crew -- "I'd appreciate it if you'd bring them to my attention."
Wrex huffed. "You think we'll just happen to run into some of Saren's followers out for a bender?"
Shepard smiled that tight smile of hers. "If it would have to anyone, it would happen to you, Wrex." She turned her attention back to the all of them. "I want the Normandy resupplied and out of dock by 1600 tomorrow. We'll head for Feros. Any questions?" After a moment of silence, she waved them out with a clipped "Dismissed."
Garrus stood to leave when the commander called his name. "Have a moment?" she asked.
"Certainly," he said, resuming his seat as the rest of the team filtered out. When the room was cleared, door shut, Shepard turned to face him, arms crossing at her chest. "I need to run an errand at 1550 today. Would you be willing to give up a little of your leave time to go with me?"
"Sure, commander," he said, wondering why she wasn't taking her own crew along. Unless she specifically needed a turian…
As if she could read his confusion, Shepard continued. "Do you think you can pull off the cop-trying-not-to-look-like-a-cop look?"
Garrus's mandibles fluttered in amusement. "I'm familiar with the type. What should the cop be trying to look like?"
"Someone who doesn't look out of place in the financial district," Shepard answered. "Meet me at the relay statue at 1540?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good, I'll brief you then." Her lips turned up into just a hair of a grin. "You'll get to see my military-trying-not-to-look-military outfit."
Outside the comm room, the crew had begun to lay plans for their vacation. Pressly and Alenko were scheduling their time ashore around each other to ensure that at least one officer remained in command of the ship whether Shepard was aboard or not. Garrus slipped down the stairs and into the quiet of the elevator. He'd run a couple of diagnostics on the Mako and put together a requisitions report before they docked, then spend a little time taking stock of the dextro food stuffs and make a list of requests for the mess sergeant. He was getting tired of having almost nothing but ration bars. In fact, besides making sure his apartment didn't have squatters yet, the only other thing he really wanted to do during his leave was have a good turian meal. Maybe at Giffor's. He pulled up the Mako's interface, dreaming about targia stew, a few glasses of gornau, and sleeping in a real bed -- one made for turians.
A few hours later, he was eyeballing said bed in the flesh. The apartment was musty; before he'd taken off with the Normandy, he'd run home long enough to throw a few things in his footlocker and all the food in the composter, so the place didn't smell bad, just stale. No sign of vagrants either, which was good. Garrus set his pack down on the bedroom floor and began stripping the bed's coverings, wanting them to be nice and clean for his long-overdue rest. While the bedclothes were in the cleaner, he dug through his closet for something appropriate for meeting Shepard. When he'd started as a C-Sec investigator, an asari named Elias had taken him under her wing, taught him about all the ways plain clothes and an easy smile could get him things a uniform and a badge couldn't. He frowned at the memory; Elias had ended up dead after her investigation into a Blue Suns sapient-trafficking ring turned into a firefight. Garrus had been sure Elias had been set up, but the Executor had refused his request for an official inquiry into the matter.
A low growl of frustration warbled through his subvocals, even as his fingers continued to sift through garments. Officially, Pallin had granted him an unpaid leave of absence to join Shepard's pursuit of Saren, with the understanding that he'd be relaying any pertinent intel regarding the actions taken by the first human Spectre, but his reports to the Executor had been vague and brief since his departure. In truth, he was beginning to question Pallin's priorities; he wasn't entirely convinced of the torin's steadfastness against the kind of influences, legitimate or not, that could corrupt a policing organization. Perhaps he could voice his concerns to his father…
He gave his head a shake. Not a crate of pyjaks be wanted to set loose right now. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, pulling out some leggings and a shirt that were new but cheap, designed to look designer but failing in the details, fitting just badly enough to make the lack of tailoring noticeable. They would do just fine.
When he approached Shepard at the relay statue later, though, his first thought was that she hadn't really managed military-trying-not-to-look-military. Dressed in a pair of dark gray leggings that clung to her much tighter than the turian equivalent would and a sleeveless blue tunic that fell above the middle of her thigh, she stood at the railing overlooking the Presidium with her hip cocked in a way that was more asari than Garrus had ever seen her body language look. He casually leaned against the railing next to her. "So, Shepard," he said, "what's this errand?"
She glanced up at him, then look back out over the lake. "I'm going to talk to Barla Von." Her tone was low. "You're going to stand outside his office and run interference if anyone tries to approach. I want it to look like we're trying to be subtle about a shakedown and not doing a good job of it."
Garrus's brow plates lowered over his eyes and he wanted to interrogate her further, but he'd agreed to follow orders when he'd joined up with her crew. "Alright, Commander," he said, thankful she couldn't hear the mild resentment in his subvocals.
Shepard nodded, then started off toward the financial district at a clipped pace. Garrus quickly realized that it wasn't the clothing that Shepard was relying on in her ruse but the way she moved. Shoulders squared, eyes straight forward, arms hanging stiffly at her sides, even the poorly hidden pistol strapped to her thigh -- no one could look at that performance and not know she was Alliance. He bared his teeth a little as his mandibles spread; it was so far departed from the Shepard he was used to that it was laughable.
In front of Barla Von's office, Garrus opened the door for the commander, then leaned a little too casually against it, eyes sweeping back and forth across the walkway before him. A few passersby glanced at him and he made a point of glaring back; Shepard seemed to want a spectacle, so Garrus would give her one. He couldn't hear anything that was going on inside -- Von's clients would expect his office to be soundproof and regular swept for surveillance -- but after a few minutes, the door opened again, and Commander Shepard stood in the opening, allowing anyone passing by to look in and see the scattered papers and broken art objects that now littered the floor. "I'll be back, Von," she said, sounding menacing in her casualness, then jerked her head to the side to signal for Garrus to follow her.
Shepard said nothing as they made their way out of the Presidium's financial district at a pace that was unhurried but still purposeful. What in buratrum just happened in there? Garrus thought. It was almost like Shepard had been interrogating Von, or at least wanted other people to think she had been interrogating Von. But why? Von had been very cooperative with them in the past, putting them on Fist's trail early on. It didn't make any sense for Shepard to jeopardize that connection and in such a visible way.
"Where are you headed now, Officer Vakarian?" Shepard asked as they continued down the promenade, breaking through his thoughts.
"Back home to Tayseri Ward," he answered, glancing her way. "Do you have something else you need me for?"
"Just a quiet little chat," she answered, still looking ahead. "Perhaps I can share your cab?"
He agreed, hoping that this little chat would include some answers as to what had just gone down. She didn't disappoint; as soon as their cab was in the air, she turned to face him. "Yesterday I was contacted by someone claiming to be an operative of the Shadow Broker. I don't doubt that he was, but I'm concerned by what the appearance of cooperating with the Shadow Broker might do to other potential sources of intel we might acquire."
"So we made it look like we're leaning Von…" Garrus said slowly, mind pulling pieces together.
"And now we'll see who might pop up to offer us assistance," she finished, nodding. "The real question then will be to see if they are offering intel genuinely or just trying to lead us on a wild goose chase."
Garrus's mandibles pulled up slightly in confusion. "Why would they want us to chase undomesticated fowl?"
Shepard waved her hand in dismissal. "Human phrase meaning that they want us to be distracted following a lead that may or may not exist." She frowned. "But if someone does want us distracted from Saren and the Reapers, it would be good to know who that someone is."
Shepard looked out the window, but Garrus kept his eyes on her face. "Are you concerned about the intel pointing us to Feros?" he asked, a little of his frustration at their inactivity coming through his subvocals. "I mean, it should be easy enough to verify if there are geth there or not."
Shepard sighed. "How long have you been in C-Sec?" she asked.
Garrus's mandibles pulled against his jaw even tighter, and his brow plates sank over his eyes. "About five years," he said, his words a little clipped. "Military police for longer."
"Then tell me, what do your cop's instinct's think?" she asked, looking over to him, searching his eyes. "Think this is just a case of the Council hesitating to admit one of their own went rogue? Think it's just about Saren?"
It was Garrus's turn to study to the passing view, a few of the larger skyscrapers soaring by his face. After long moment, he said, "No. I don't." He cleared his throat a little. "It's not the first time Executor Pallin has, uh, discouraged me from continuing an investigation, but this seems like more than just…" he trailed off, not sure how to name his concerns.
Shepard nodded her understanding. "After we found ourselves in a rachni nest on Noveria, I think you can understand why I felt compelled to do a little more digging into what we might be walking into on Feros." Her lips drew thin. "Imagine my dismay when I learned that the human colony on Feros is sponsored by an R&D corporation that has invested heavily in Prothean tech recovery. The briefing the Council provided me with failed to note this."
"And this is why we've held off on heading there?" he asked, mandibles and brow relaxing as he began to understand Shepard's reticence to walk into another laboratory nightmare.
"Yes," she answered. "I've been waiting on some intel from a few old contacts of mine. Yesterday, I received reports on the layout of the colony and the research facility as well as ExoGeni's recent expenditures. It's more than we had before, though I'm still not sure what we're going to find on the ground. My mercenary friends tell me that no one who has gone down there has come back up, or even bothered to answer messages, leading to widespread suspicions that something is killing everyone who sets foot down there but leaving the ships intact."
"Mercenary friends?"
Her lips pulled into a tight smile. "Just playing to my strengths, Officer. I know the Alliance thinks I can work miracles, but even I need a little help from time to time."
Putting aside his curiosity about her sources, Garrus mulled over the situation. "So you think the Council might be deliberately withholding intel from us?" A rumble traveled across his subvocals. "That's a serious accusation."
Shepard shrugged, the jump with the shoulders that humans did that always made them look like weird puppets. "I'm willing to admit it might have merely been an oversight on their part. Perhaps they weren't even aware of the colony's origin. At the same time, nothing pisses me off more than losing people due to bad intel," she said, her voice turning hard in the same way it had when she'd policed Williams's xenophobic comments. Then she gave her head a hard shake, like she was trying to throw something loose from her ear. "But there's something else I want to go over with you," she went on. "If something were to happen to me, you'd be the natural choice to continue this investigation, Spectre status or no. They'd probably put Anderson back in charge of the Normandy, but you'd take lead."
"Commander…" Garrus started, but she lifted a hand to silence him.
"Part of what I'm saying here, Vakarian, is that I'd want you to be in charge of this." She looked out the window again. "I think, of all possible options, you've got the best chance of figuring this whole mess out. And after what we learned on Noveria, about indoctrination, me dying wouldn't be the worst way for me to be incapacitated."
It took Garrus a moment to parse the phrasing, but as soon as he did, he blurted, "You think you've been indoctrinated?"
Shepard barked a laugh. "God, I hope not. But if I were, who would know? Did Nihlus know that Saren had been indoctrinated? Did anyone? Not until his actions got too extreme to deny." She looked back at him, and her eyes were so intense and dark that Garrus felt pinned to his seat. "But if you start to think I've been indoctrinated, Vakarian, you've got to get me out of command."
He faltered a little under that gaze and that request. "But, Shepard, how am I...what could I do? How would I even know?"
Shepard took a deep breath, turned her eyes back out the front window of the cab. They were only a minute or so from his apartment building. "I'm having Anderson give you access to my files. Past combat reports, psych evals, debriefings, personal history… everything the Alliance has on me. Hopefully that will give you some inkling as to when I'm doing things that seem like things I would do and when I'm doing things that seem drastically out of character. As to how to get me out of the hot seat?" She glanced his way with that tight smile again. "You'll just have to get creative."
"Commander," Garrus said, hands rubbing against his leggings, "are you sure about this? I mean, we've known each other, what? Less than a month?" He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't be willing to turn that kind of intel over to my own father, much less someone I just met."
Shepard leaned her head back and closed her eyes as the cab began its descent to the front of Garrus's building. "Does it make me uncomfortable? Damn straight. Do I think it's necessary for the safety of the crew and the success of the mission? Yes. I hope that you can put aside your personal discomfort as well."
They sat in silence for a moment as the car settled onto the ground. Shepard held her position, appearing for all intents and purposes to be completely relaxed… until Garrus noticed the little tell-tale flicker of a vein beneath the skin of her neck, signalling a racing pulse. "Alright, Commander," he finally answered, understanding how important Shepard felt this was. He cleared his throat again awkwardly. "Thank you for your trust."
Shepard opened her eyes and looked back over him, and this time her smile was full and easy. "Thank you for yours, Vakarian." She climbed out of the cab, signally the end of the conversation, and Garrus followed suit. Shepard was looking around the plaza of his building and out into the surrounding area. "Nice place," she said.
Garrus tipped his head to the side in a shrug. "It's close enough to the Dilinaga to be classy but far enough away to not get the crowds." In truth, it was the apartment his father had arranged for him when he'd first joined C-Sec; he'd never felt any reason to relocate since he spent most of his time either chasing bad guys or at the Academy.
Shepard hummed in response. "Got any suggestions for a place I could get a bite to eat, have a nice quiet drink without worrying about a brawl or having tits shoved in my face?"
That woman went from supremely serious to casually vulgar like a prianus went from one hole to another. Garrus's hand rose to his fringe as his mandibles spread wide in embarrassment. "Well," he said slowly as he raked talons over his head, "this is mostly a turian neighborhood, so you're not guaranteed to find levo everywhere."
Shepard nodded, eyes still roaming around. Garrus wondered what kind of threat she thought might be lurking around the corner, then realized that the skin on her brow wasn't pinched together like it got when they were in the field. Maybe she hadn't been to the part of the Citadel before, just want to have a look around. His impression was confirmed when she said, "Then I think maybe I'll just start walking until I see some levos around." She glanced back at him, a hint of that genuine smile on her lips. "A little adventure."
Garrus's subvocals gave a little whine of indecision that, thankfully, the commander couldn't hear. "I was planning on going to a little pub around the corner," he said quickly, before she had a chance to walk away or he had a chance to think better of it. "It's mostly Palavenian food, but they do some levo adaptations." He dipped his head to the side. "Maybe I could get to know you better in a more traditional way before reading your psych evals?"
Shepard pulled her lips together, and that line appeared on her forehead. "I'd hate to intrude on your shore leave any more than I already have," she said, and Garrus could clearly hear her hesitation despite her lack of a second larynx.
"I don't mind," he answered, then added, "I mean, I don't want to presume…" Presume what, exactly? He seemed to remember that the Alliance had strict regulations about fraternization, but he knew nothing about the specifics of what would constitute a breach of those rules, or if those rules even still applied on the Normandy. Or, barring that, if Shepard still followed them personally.
"Alright," she said suddenly, before he could find a way to end that thought. "I'd like that." Her body language still looked a little tense to Garrus, but maybe he just wasn't reading the situation as well as he thought. Her face seemed smooth enough. He gestured toward the building behind him and said, "I'll just go change into something, well, something not cop-trying-not-to-look-like-a-cop and be right back down."
Shepard sat on the low wall surrounding the plaza's flower garden. "I'll be here."