I loved ME2, but wanted something a bit different from the relationship between Shep and Garrus (forehead touching scene aside *sigh*.) I've modified the story as I saw fit: I really couldn't help myself. Phoenix Shepard is a paragon biotic badass, and not quite human in a few ways.

Garrus and anything you recognize from Mass Effect belong to Bioware.

So much room. In all her life, Shepard never had so much space she could claim as her own, and it was suffocating. As a child, she'd squeezed into whatever spaces she could find between subterranean heating vents, pressing her tiny body against the warm metal, letting the gentle rumble lull her to sleep. Enlisting in the military meant having her own cot and locker, and although she was surrounded by thousands of other recruits she began to understand the concept of personal space, of ownership. She remembered her first night, tightly tucked between the rough sheets, staring at the top bunk and savouring the knowledge that out of the entire galaxy this space was hers and hers alone. This was where she belonged. Even her cabin on the first Normandy felt like a cocoon, with its single bed and little desk, a hollow nestled in the vast expanse of the warship. Her new home, this palatial suite atop the SR2, she didn't know what to do with. The eerie blue light from the empty fish tank felt cold and menacing. She lay in the middle of the double bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and shivered. What have I gotten myself into?

0200h. Precious few hours until she was expected to rise, dress, and emerge from her quarters as Commander Shepard. Fearless, infallible, indestructible Commander Shepard, an impossible symbol made flesh and blood by the minds and hearts of billions who believed in her. Soon she would steel herself and put on the mask anew, but for now she was free to let her mind digest the chaos of recent events. Try to think, Phoenix. What happened before you died?

Relief washed over her as she tossed Joker's broken body into the escape pod. Everyone still living had been evacuated, every crewman who could be saved was accounted for. Not like Virmire. Never again. Satisfaction mixed with sadness as she moved to join her pilot and abandon the disintegrating husk of the Normandy. A flash of light blinded her, and she was overcome with vertigo as she felt herself spin uncontrollably in zero-gee. She lashed out with both arms, managing to hit the pod's release, sending Joker hurtling down to the planet below. Horror crept in as her vision returned, the last gleaming splinters of her beautiful ship being enveloped in fiery halos as they plummeted through the atmosphere. The blast had thrown her clear, floating through the emptiness, and her heart sank as she recognized the barely perceptible hiss of a suit breach. A flash of blue, and a biotic seal closed the leak momentarily, but Shepard knew her remaining air wouldn't last long. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to focus, slowing her respiration and heart rate, trying to make the most of her last minutes.

Meditating deeply, she allowed her cybernetic interface to flow into her consciousness. This couldn't possibly work, she thought, but it has to work. Until now her circuits functioned mainly as auxiliary storage, allowing her to absorb and access vast data, like an omni-tool jacked directly into her mind. Only a few in the Alliance knew of her enhancements, mostly top brass and Dr. Chakwas, but her photographic memory and encyclopedic knowledge were legendary. Now she needed to reverse the flow, willing her electronics to upload the contents of her organic brain, converting billions of synapses into binary data. Copying herself. Was this even possible? Her mind fogged as hypoxia overtook her, softly blurring reality and filling her with peace. Adrift in the darkness, she used her last shreds of consciousness to send a message to her dearest friend, in case her efforts failed. One final flash of biotic energy, and the crude image of a cherry blossom was burned onto her chestplate, a reminder of a conversation they'd had the last time she thought she was going to die.

Only a few hours left until they'd hit the Mu relay, launching the crew of the Normandy toward unknown horrors and certain death. She'd tried to calm herself with meditation, but the gravity and urgency of the mission kept breaking her concentration. Shepard unbound herself from the lotus position and realized she'd begun to pace around her quarters again. Frustrated, she headed to the galley to rummage through the cupboards for anything that would give her comfort. She noticed Kaidan wasn't at his usual post, a sly smile creeping across her lips. He'd been so dogged in his pursuit of her, inevitably misinterpreting her attempts to be friendly and sympathetic, until she'd finally had to tell him point blank that she wasn't interested in him romantically. Not that he wasn't sweet, and most of the female crew were gaga over him, but he seemed more like a big brother to her. She'd noticed him chatting often with one of her ensigns lately, and it made her happy to think he might not be spending these last hours alone. He wasn't the only one: the galley and mess were empty as everyone had withdrawn for sleep or private pursuits.

Shepard poured boiling water into a mug and began searching the galley for an elusive packet of hot chocolate. Clawing at the back of a lower compartment, her fingers seized their prize triumphantly, when a sudden tap on her shoulder caused her to whip around sharply, banging her elbow on the underside of the countertop as she turned to face her assailant.

"Sorry", said Garrus, "I was trying not to startle you".

"Ungh." Shepard rubbed her ulnar nerve, the painful paresthesia clearing her mind of darker thoughts.

"Can't sleep?" she said, "or are you just trying to soften me up for Saren?"

The turian grimaced at her bad joke, mandibles tucking in and sharp teeth flashing slightly. To most humans, this gesture would have seemed threatening, but Shepard had learned to read him quite well in the few months since he joined her crew. Of everyone on her ship, she'd grown closest to Garrus, seeing echoes of herself in his deep sense of justice and passion for his work. His sharp aim and lightning reflexes made him an invaluable addition to her ground team, and she couldn't remember the last time she went planetside without him. He was a naïve idealist with the instincts of a lethal predator. While they spent many missions happily trying to one-up each other's kill counts, letting their competitive streaks turn death into sport, Shepard stopped him short of cold-blooded murder. Dr. Saleon. Garrus had wanted to execute him, a death more merciful than the one he would have received at the hands of his frenzied victims, but she'd stayed his hand. He didn't understand her decision, not right away, but he'd accepted it. Of anyone she could have run into in the galley, Garrus was the only person she'd be happy to see.

"Couldn't sleep, and if I polish my rifle any more my talons will chafe."

Shepard laughed out loud despite herself, nearly spilling her hot chocolate. Garrus shot her a puzzled look: the translator rarely glitched, but humans had so many figures of speech that it seemed impossible to learn them all. He mixed himself a hot fruity-smelling beverage from the dextro side of the kitchen, and sat down next to Shepard at the mess table. They sat in silence for a while, two warriors enjoying quiet companionship before the looming battle. Shepard's gaze hardened, and her brow furrowed as thoughts of Ilos crept into her head.

"You look like you're a million light-years away, Shepard."

Sighing, she rubbed her elbow absentmindedly. "I just wish I could be prepared for what's coming, Garrus. We have no idea what's waiting for us beyond the relay, what traps Saren and the geth are laying for us…"

"And there's nothing you can do about that right now. You need to rest."

"You're one to talk. You're just as tense as I am."

"Maybe. Still, if anyone can stop Saren, it's you. I almost feel sorry for him…"

Shepard allowed herself to smile, enjoying the certainty in her friend's words. Spoken in that deep turian rumble, she thought she'd believe just about anything he said. She wanted him to keep talking, his voice soothing and resonant, untangling her fears.

"Do you have any good war stories for me? Might as well get in the mood to fight, if I can't sleep…"

"Hmmm." Garrus glanced behind them at the rows of sleeping pods, all of them filled. Shepard followed his gaze and caught his message. They wouldn't do the crew any favours by waking them with loud talk and raucous laughter.

"I still have that bottle of Palaven spirits in my cabin if your tongue needs loosening."

This time it was Garrus who laughed. She couldn't possibly know what that meant to turians.

Drinks in hand, they took up their usual positions in her small cabin. She sat cross-legged on her mattress and he pulled the desk chair up to her bedside table. They'd started hanging out in here more often, playing cards or telling stories, usually when Wrex got tired of their noise and kicked them out of the lower deck. Garrus recounted one of his early adventures as a patrol officer with C-Sec, chasing a drug trafficker to one of the lower levels of Shin Akiba only to find himself alone and outnumbered in a dark sub-passage. Although Shepard had heard this story a few times already, her sky-blue eyes still beamed with excitement when he got to the part where he hid behind a shipping crate, taking down six heavily armed thugs with carefully timed pistol shots and one flash grenade. He'd been reprimanded afterwards for failing to wait for backup, but the pride he felt watching Shepard grin at his exploits far outweighed the sting of his father's disappointment. He would have never thought a human would matter so much to him, those frustratingly argumentative creatures of soft flesh and faces that weren't just bare but unplated. From the first time he met her on the tower steps, Shepard had defied the stereotype of her race, strong and noble and determined, steel showing through in her gaze and demeanor. She'd always treated him with respect, rather than the thinly veiled contempt or fear he'd come to expect from humans. Now she was his best friend, his confidante, and the finest commanding officer he'd ever served with.

Shepard stretched her neck to the right, her brow crinkling nearly imperceptibly. He noticed, though, his keen turian senses finely tuned to his commander's wellbeing. They fought together seamlessly, their harmonious strategy a result of long hours fighting endless waves of enemies. She'd knock down their opponents with warp fields and singularities, he'd overload their shields, and the sniping competition would begin. The rhythm of their tactics had become as intrinsic as his heartbeat, and there were times when he was sure he could sense her movements, feel her as an extension of himself. Telepathy had been known to occur between turian mated pairs, and only rarely. Still, it wasn't such a stretch to think that the bond between soldiers could be as deep as lovers: their lives depended on one another. He wondered whether she could sense him too. She'd been injured on Virmire, and the pain she felt in her neck was as obvious as if she'd told him outright.

"Do you want some help with that?"

"It's nothing."

"I thought you were different than most humans, but you're as stubborn as a varren," he said, grinning as he poked her in the tender muscle.

"Hey! Not fair."

"Turn around and sit still." She eyed him warily, one eyebrow raised. "I'm not going to bite you, Shepard."

Careful not to let his sharp talons scratch her, Garrus used his finger pads and knuckles to knead her neck and shoulders through the thin material of her uniform. She felt so strange, so alien. Ropy muscle lay just beneath the delicate skin, strength underlying fragility, with a hard mass clearly palpable in the middle of her trapezius. He focused on this area, pressing with increasing force, eliciting appreciative groans as he felt her body yield to his insistent touch. Slowly, the knot released, and she stretched her arms overhead, turning her neck from side to side.

"Wow, thanks. My neck feels great. I didn't think turians knew how to be gentle," she said, grinning. "Can I return the favour? You've been rolling your left shoulder a lot lately."

"Err… I don't think you could do much for me. My plates aren't very pliable." He was surprised she'd noticed his injury: he'd been trying to hide it so she wouldn't leave him behind on missions. Still, why not? It was her duty as commander to look after her crew, and he saw no reason she shouldn't be as aware of his weaknesses as he was of hers.

"You underestimate me, Garrus." She smiled mischievously, and her hands began to glow with the soft blue light of her biotics. She scooted to the top of her mattress, patting the spot beside her. Intrigued, he sat down. Her deft hands began to unbuckle and remove the armour on his torso, and for a moment Garrus forgot to breathe. "Just relax, I won't bite you either." He laughed, and surrendered himself to his commander's touch.

Shepard had to scoot up onto her knees to reach his shoulders comfortably. Damn, he was tall. She'd studied turian anatomy and physiology during her training, knew that she'd have to get through his thick natural armour to soothe the muscles beneath. She needed enough pressure to relieve his pain, not enough to hurt him or melt his undershirt. Allowing her hands to run slowly over his neck and shoulders, she gradually increased her biotic energy until a deep rumble resounded from his chest. It sounded like purring.

"Is that okay?"

"Mmm… yeah."

She suppressed a giggle at the thought of her vicious predator purring like a housecat, and focused on making the sounds louder. She pulsed waves of energy through his aching shoulder until a dull roar escaped his throat. He didn't pull away from her, so she figured it was the turian equivalent of a groan. After lingering on his shoulder, she made soft, gentle circles of energy travel around his upper back, relaxing and soothing him. She continued a while longer, until he began to stretch his muscles and turned to face her.

"Ohhh… I had no idea humans could do that. My shoulder hasn't felt that good in ages."

"I need my team in top shape, you know. We may not make it through this mission." Shepard regretted her words immediately. The heaviness of their situation weighed on them, strangling conversation. She sat facing Garrus, listening to the sound of his breathing, realizing with astonishment that she yearned for him to hold and comfort her. She buried the thought, knowing that her best friend was first and foremost a soldier under her command, and to reveal her weakness and fear would be inexcusable.

Garrus was the first to break the silence. "You know, Commander, since we're going on a suicide mission, there's something I've always wondered about you humans." He chuckled. "You'll think I'm weird, but it's driving me nuts, and there's no one else I can ask." She looked up to find him staring at the top of her head, and she knew immediately what he meant. Shepard had caught him glancing at Ashley's ponytail a few times, reminding her of a curious child eyeing a dog's wagging tail.

"My hair," she said, and he nodded bashfully. "It's just so different, Shepard. You're the only sentient species that has it." At first he'd found it repulsive, thought that it would be greasy or slimy, but after seeing human women on the Citadel with their hair down he was fascinated. He couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to run his talons through it, whether it was sensitive like his fringe, and what purpose it could possibly serve.

Shepard reached up, removed the elastic and unwound her bun from its tight twist. Garrus gasped as her copper hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders, and before he could stop himself his hand reached up and his fingers were gently entwined in the silky strands, so shiny and smooth and entrancing. Shepard patiently answered his questions, explained that her hair had no nerve endings, that it hurt her scalp if he pulled it, and seemed not to mind him playing with it.

"I had no idea you had so much of it, Shepard. Thanks for putting up with my curiosity."

She laughed, a light girlish laugh he hadn't heard before. "Soldiers have to tie it up or cut it off. I'm glad I could put your mind at ease. I guess I'm just doing my part for turian-human diplomacy."

He lifted a springy curl up to his nose, rewarded by a soft floral scent. "Cherry-blossom shampoo," she said, "reminds me of one of my favourite things on Earth." Shepard tried to describe the achingly beautiful blossoms that exploded every spring in the public gardens. It was one of the few joys she had as a young child, one of the few places a non-citizen could go without harassment. She spoke of long afternoons lying on the grass, watching the light pink blooms sway in the breeze and from time to time float slowly down to the ground, breathtaking and peaceful even in death. A symbol of the beauty and transience of life, ever more lovely for their fleeting lifespan.

"Is there anything I can do to put your mind at ease?" Garrus' blue eyes seemed to be staring right into her soul.

"Knowing you'll be fighting beside me is enough. I do appreciate your company, and I wouldn't turn down another story…"

Something had flashed behind her eyes when she spoke, a trace of need beneath the mask of confidence and invincibility. Emboldened by their physical contact, wordlessly attuned to his commander's subtle cues, knowing how much she carried on her shoulders going into this impossible unknowable mission, Garrus hatched an evil plan.

"Okay, but I need to get comfortable or my shoulder will seize up again." He stretched out on her bed, long legs extending past the edge of the mattress, pillow propped up to support his neck above the ridge of his collar. With one swift motion, he pulled her down beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped across his plated thorax. His body felt incredibly warm, radiating soothing heat, and it took all her resolve not to just close her eyes and hug him tightly.

"Ummm… is this normal for turian soldiers?"

"Yeah. Now shush." Before Shepard could protest further, he began telling her a story from his childhood on Palaven, about the joy of swimming in the ocean, running on the beach and feeling the wind rush between his plates. The rumbling of his chest as he spoke and heat from his body quickly lulled her into deep delicious sleep. He didn't wake her until they reached the relay, relishing the silky feel of her hair against his sensitive palm, gazing with wonder at the delicate creature left behind as the fierce warrior within dreamt of tropical breezes and cherry blossoms.