Chapter Text
Commander Shepard lined up and took aim, squeezing the trigger slowly and lining up a burst in the dead center of the target. Their target was a holographic humanoid shape, behind which was a mass lowering field and a thin piece of fabric to catch the slugs for later recycling. When the slugs were in the field, their mass was lowered to near zero, effectively zeroing their kinetic energy and dissipating it as electrical discharge through the mass-effect projector. The discharge was then stored in capacitors to continue powering the system. Tali had set it up her third day on the ship, claiming astonishment that Humans hadn't figured out sustainable shipboard shooting ranges yet.
"They should put you on the cover of Fornax," said Garrus dryly, shoving Shepard with a rock-hard plated shoulder and ejecting a red-hot heatsink from his Avenger.
"I know I'm beautiful Vakarian, but.." Shepard tried to head off whatever jibe was coming his way and jammed a new clip of heatsinks and slugs into his own assault rifle.
"Because of his backside?" Asked Tali innocently
"My what?" He blurted, caught off-guard. He turned around, trying to see whatever it was they were looking at on his rear.
The Quarian erupted into a fit of giggles and Garrus followed, nodding then collapsing into the sort of coughing-scraping sound that was laughter for Turians.
"Your Ass, Shepard...sticks out when you shoot. How has nobody ever pointed it out?" Asked Garrus as he recovered from his laughter.
"Absolutely does not," Shepard answered, suddenly defensive about what he had been certain was a perfect, Naval Academy honed firing stance.
A pistol discharged 3 times in rapid succession, the report echoing off the walls of the Cargo Bay and their makeshift shooting range. Wrex set his smoking Carnifex on the table and turned toward them.
"You're braying like a bunch of whelps, throwing off my shooting," He complained in his guttural tones. Then he turned his eyes on the Commander, "You hang your Korts out like a Salarian seeking a mate though".
The Cargo deck rumbled with his laughter as a hand like a truck hit Shepard's shoulder. Garrus and Tali joined in at John's expense and he was left staring in awe as his most trusted teammates tore him to shreds.
A little flare of anxiety shot through him. It was familiar, light hazing from a team. It happened in any unit but he was the Commanding Officer here. Would he be able to hold them together when it counted if they were able to rip him like this? His nostrils flared and he stayed silent but cracked a smile so as not to let his inner thoughts show so clearly. Nonetheless, Talil's eyes caught his for a heartbeat and he would have sworn her laughter slowed.
After a few more minutes of target practice and being absurdly conscious of his own backside, leading to the worst shooting he'd done since the Academy, he excused himself to go do some Alliance busywork. Garrus slapped him on the back, Wrex grunted, and Tali squeezed his shoulder lightly with a little sideways look. He felt a new flare of self-consciousness that not only did she think he looked stupid in combat, but also saw that he was sensitive about it and couldn't take a joke.
He was digging through his absurdly long queue of emails when his cabin intercom blipped.
"Shepard, You got a minute?" It was Garrus, wearing jeans and a ratty Silversun hoodie.
"Yeah, come in," he said distractedly, uncomfortably recalling a few hours before on the Cargo Deck
Garrus took a deep breath, "Your ass does not actually stick out when you shoot....just more than a Turian," A smirk rustled his faceplates.
Shepard couldn't help but laugh a little as some measure of relief washed over him. Even if he was a bit embarrassed that he had been obvious enough in his discomfort that Garrus had actually felt the need to come apologize.
"Do Turians even have asses?" Asked Shepard, feeling considerably lighter as his friend leant against his desk.
"Not really," He said academically. His Omni-Tool beeped and he flicked it open, scrolling through something distractedly, "Our anatomy is more of a xtkshhhk".
"a what?"
"I guess the translator doesn't know how to handle that word"
"That's fine," laughed John as he stood and gave Garrus a look, "I don't need to know the details of what you've got going on down there.
"They're really quite beautiful...on Females at least," he defended, shutting his Omni-Tool, "I could send you some holos".
"Sorry...uhh...I think Alliance protocol prohibits-" Said Shepard with false bravado and a growing smile
Garrus smacked him on the arm, grinning at himself, "Racist".
"Doesn't count if I only hate one Turian,"
Said Turian laughed once more and an easy silence grew between them. Shepard took a moment to shut off the orange holo-screen of his private terminal. The mood in the room changed a bit in the silence.
"You think they'll follow me? All the new crew?" Shepard asked, looking downward, not wanting to make eye contact.
"Shepard, you have assembled the most chaotic group of unstoppable forces the galaxy has ever seen. And somehow, we all like each other," Garrus said, nodding slightly and looking directly at Shepard, trying to make eye contact. "Bonds like that only come from having each other's backs when it really matters. At this point I've killed for every person on the Normandy and I'll do it again and again. So have you".
John looked up finally, meeting the Turian's grey steel eyes and nodding minutely, "I guess you're right".
"And I know you've been in the military long enough to know that a little hazing means the unit likes you. Don't get so in your head. I've seen you do it after half our missions," Garrus' voice was uncharacteristically gentle and it struck Shepard to the core.
He had friends on this ship, not just squadmates or comrades. John put a five-fingered hand on his friend's shoulder and nodded again, "Thanks Garrus".
"We're at war...but this is what we're fighting for," He paused again before changing his tone, "Gym?"
"Yeah, let's go. I need to burn off some energy".
Two hours later, Garrus was hunched over a workbench, augmented optics zoomed in ludicrously far and using an Omni-tool extension to wire a new stabilization module into his beloved Mantis.
"Garrus,"
He jumped nearly out of his armor and dislodged 5 of the 7 wires he had so painstakingly inserted, "Damnit Tali, you are way too quiet for your own good".
He sounded angry but it was really more of a mild irritation. Tali was remarkably good at being mildly irritating, to the point that if she wasn't actively annoying him, he worried about her safety.
"If you can't be quiet on the Flotilla, you will probably wake up often suspended zero-g or tied to a liveship dome," She said dismissively, "Anyway, how's John doing?"
"He's alright. Pride's a bit damaged because I can still press more than he can though," Cockiness abundant in his tone.
"You were supposed to apologize to him,"
"And I did...you didn't say not to beat him in something else though".
Tali sighed, "Bosh'tet"
"I know what that means," shot back Garrus as he set back to work on his rifle.
"Good,"
A moment of silence passed, during which he managed to get two wires seated once more.
"Garrus?" He jumped again, tearing them back out.
"What" He said flatly
"Do you think I annoy Shepard?"
"I know you annoy me," He said, grimacing and starting over yet again.
"I know," she dismissed, "But do I annoy John?"
"Did he seem annoyed in the Mako last month?"
She paused, her hands fumbling together as they did whenever she was lost in thought.
"I guess not...we..well...I had fun,"
"You both had fun," He said, carefully slotting the first green wire into its cradle and immediately calling up a soldering iron from his Omni-tool so there was no chance it could get removed again.
He continued, "It was the only thing he talked about for a week. We released the Rachni, found Benezia, killed her, and he spent the next 7 days talking about how quickly you picked up the turret controls".
"Oh," she squeaked, hands moving faster now. She looked downward.
"Why don't you just let me fix your gun for you?" She asked, changing her tone abruptly.
"Guns are my thing," He had just finished securing the first wire and was realizing that soldering it first had probably screwed himself because now the second wire was not long enough to reach its terminal.
"Guns are just tech though...and tech is my thing," She hopped up on the table and sat, swinging her digitigrade legs.
"Guns are not tech, they're art,"
"Oh? Tech is not art?"
He sighed, realizing he would not get anywhere with this, "Would you like to do the upgrade on my gun?" He stood up and stowed his Omni-tool
"Yes please," She hopped down and shoved him out of the way, excitedly turning on her visor's magnification and set to work.
He shook his head and walked away, turning left down the row of crates and knowing that his gun would probably have fifteen new features by dinner and being a little annoyed that Tali was definitely right.
Two decks above, John Shepard's boots clacked against the polysteel mesh of the Normandy's floor as he approached the Med-Bay. He was not looking forward to this conversation, but it needed to be had.
He knocked on the door to Liara’s makeshift lab and erstwhile quarters.
"Busy," she said distractedly through the door-comm.
John raised an eyebrow and took a breath before entering anyway.
She was hunched over a computer, furiously working the hard-light controls and by the heat of the room and sound of whirring fans, running some incredibly resource-intensive simulations. She had not so much as looked in his direction when he came in.
“Hey Liara, how-”
“Oh Goddess! Shepard!” She exclaimed, as she jumped, nearly yanking the console off the table with the wires which he now saw were attached to various points on her head. She did an awkward little dance to untangle herself, “I...uh...I’m sorry..I didn’t realize it was..”
“Liara,” he said in his most calming voice, “It’s alright, It’s alright, settle down”.
She stopped moving, balanced on one foot and sort of bent sideways. Liara looked at him sheepishly, “My apologies Shepard, I’ve been a little...out of sorts lately”.
He moved closer to her, looking over the mess she had gotten into, “I would be worried if you weren’t. Here, let me help”.
He tried to assist her in unwrapping the multicolored strands from around her neck and once she was finally free of her self-made bondage, she turned to him, cheeks pinkening visibly at his proximity.
“Better?” Shepard asked, stepping back again.
Her face fell slightly. John figured it had something to do with the myriad of emotions surrounding her mother that were probably still an unsettled whirlwind in her head.
“It’s been nearly a week since Noveria, and I have hardly seen you. You’ve even been eating in here,” He gestured expansively at the cluttered space, his eyes drawn to the small stack of not-quite-clean dishes in the corner that would probably have started to smell if it were not the remains of sterile spaceship rations.
“I...well...I have had a lot of research to do and I have not had much time to socialize. I am sorry,” She said in her stilted way, her right eye just slightly less open than her left. Shepard had always wondered about that quirk of hers.
“Liara....What happened in the Hot Labs must have taken a toll. It’s my job to care about my crew’s wellbeing,” He said as gently as he could, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Her eyes met his and she put one of her right hand over his where it rested on her white jumpsuit, “It was just so unexpected...Benezia...my mother. She never would have followed Saren willingly and...well,” Her eyes flicked to her now mangled research setup, “My work has been fruitful, both in helping me understand what happened to my mother, and in understanding indoctrination as a whole. It seems that within the reapers’ hardware, there is some organic element which allows them to influence organic minds...it is worryingly similar to how my people meld, actually…” She trailed off.
This was interesting news. He should have expected Liara to pour her energy into research to contextualize this tragedy, but her level of progress still impressed him. If they could gain a foothold in understanding the indoctrination process, they could potentially stop or even reverse it. He stepped back and crossed his arms thoughtfully.
“That’s good Liara...the work I mean,” He stumbled over his words, his mind was whirring now, “Do you think that if you had more samples of indoctrinated beings, you could go further with the research? What do you need?”
“Oh,” She had clearly not expected to be offered such resources so suddenly, “Well, my largest difficulty right now is actually in understanding just what organic elements the Reapers contain. If I had samples of their technology intact, I might be able to do more than just guess at it”. Her cerulean eyes were alight with the passion for discovery that he had come to appreciate about her.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, nodding thoughtfully.
He knew that hoping for a chunk of Reaper brain to fall into their hands was unrealistic, but maybe she could work with a husk? Or a Dragon’s tooth?
He turned to leave, but Liara stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, “Shepard,”
John turned and looked at her
“Thank you...it...means a lot to me that you bothered to talk with me and...well,” she suddenly seemed very nervous, “I would appreciate talking more...in private”. She took a deep breath and looked up at him.
Shepard's heart beat quickly as he tried to parse the intention behind her statement. His instincts on this sort of thing were admittedly weak, but her words seemed loaded with more than gratitude. Was she asking for more friendly chats about feelings and research? Or something else?
“I...er, I’m glad I could help. I care about you and want to make sure you’re okay,” He said carefully.
She smiled brightly, “I’ll see you later Shepard”.
He left her cabin wondering if he had said the right thing. It seemed obvious that Liara was hinting at something more than just friendly compassion. He remembered more than one time in his life that he had thought the same thing though, only to pursue it and find the girl was actually only looking for a study partner. John Shepard fully accepted that his abilities with romantic relationships were marginal at best, and was dismayed to find that saving the galaxy with an Avenger assault rifle and a high-tech ship seemed to involve a lot of the same skills.
If she was actually suggesting something more, he really was not sure how to feel about that either. He had grown to really enjoy her company, but it seemed like there was something in the way of him thinking of her in a more than platonic way. Nevertheless, he was now committed to spending a little more one-on-one time with her, which would probably be fun at least.
John looked up to find that he was standing at the door to the gym and shrugged. Maybe a run would clear his head.