Can it wait for a bit?

                The concept of belonging, the knowledge that one’s usefulness had finally become efficacious within a coterie, was one of a foreign nature. He had always been on his own. From the first day of military boot-camp to his final days working for the C-Sec Investigation Division, Garrus Vakarian had been viewed as the antithesis of gregarious. His hard and hasty fashion of completing tasks and the pertinacious way he drilled for what he wanted made him out to be rebellious and conceited. He disregarded the metaphorical and literal red tape alike; the rules did not apply to him. Their implication was a hindrance on his personal morale.

                He had felt like a stranger among his own kind, on Palaven, in the military, and in Citadel Security. In his own mind, Garrus proved to be a disappointment to his father, regardless of the several areas in which he surmounted the competition. The blandishments that marred the Vakarian name when accompanied with Garrus as its predecessor were visible enough for him to be branded as the proverbial black sheep. But even with his father’s disapproval, neither the turian hierarchy nor C-Sec could ignore his obvious talents. He was a brilliant tactician, an expert marksman, and he had a propensity to winnow through the minutiae until something unwonted presented itself. He played a hunch more than a few times, and in every instance proved correct.

                The turian never imagined finding himself on an Alliance ship, let alone volunteering to be a part of the crew. There was something about the Normandy and its commanding officer that elicited a brand of loyalty from Garrus he did not know he was in possession of. From the short badinage to the military jargon, Garrus wanted to listen to Shepard. He would follow her into Hell without question; he was following her into Hell. She was unique, so incongruous with the humans he had known during his days at C-Sec. She was strength and determination personified. She had suffered and been thrown into her fair share of misfortune, but it did nothing to discourage her spirit. Commander Shepard was brilliant in mind and body. She was certain in her abilities, but was not overweening about it. And Garrus possessed a sense of respect for her that he did not even grant his hierarchy with.

                He had entrusted the information of Dr. Saleon into her hands, after not speaking of it for months. It had been his loose end, the skeleton in his closet that rattled interminably, and she helped silence it. She took him to Saleon’s vessel, showed him that there were other ways to deal with a criminal than empty revenge, that his captious attitude was detrimental to who he was. The end result was what Garrus had wanted from the start, though he interpreted the events in an entirely different light. Shepard had opened his eyes to the galaxy around him, and allowed him to view the nuances of gray that tinged his previously monochromatic comprehension.

                If anyone in the entirety of the galaxy was worthy of the title Spectre, it was Shepard. Even though Garrus had trained for the position in his youth without success, he did not hold resentment or jealousy towards Shepard. He was, in fact, humbled to stand as witness to the first human Spectre induction. The procession was faster than what he had imagined it being, but still left him awestruck and unable to speak without fumbling over his words. This once again proved that Shepard was something else entirely.

                                “Vakarian…”

                “Garrus, are you paying attention?” Shepard sounded impatient. The turian had drifted off in thought, but now he was struck with green eyes bearing into him, searing the flesh beneath his plates. And it was only then that he realized he had been staring at her, his icy cerulean gaze climbing and descending her form, subconsciously taking it in. She wasn’t unattractive for a human.

                “You were in the middle of reviewing possible scenarios for peacefully taking down Matriarch Benezia. Can’t say I blame you. This is going to be hard for Liara,” Garrus returned with a thin layer of sympathy lining his subharmonics. He wondered if Shepard could pick up on the nuances of tones in his secondary vocal system for the very simple fact that he emoted quite often, but Shepard rarely picked up on it. Or rather, he believed she rarely noticed it.

                “That was only part of what I said. Is there something on your mind? I want my crew to be able to speak freely if something’s bothering them,” noted Shepard kindheartedly, though her voice carried a forced air of formality.

                His mandibles began to twitch uncomfortably, but he forced them to remain still, lest the commander were to pick up on the cue. Humans and turians might have been different species, but there were still fairly obvious bodily actions that gave away their conditions without getting lost in translation. Garrus did not wish to divulge the truth that he had been thinking only of her. There would be too many questions in succession to the truth. Either that or the conversation would end abruptly, and neither of those options proved to be acceptable. He didn’t want to lie to her either.

                There had to be a middle ground.

                “I uh…” Garrus started, his voice unstable. “I was thinking about your Spectre induction. I know it seems out of place given what we were talking about. You’ve managed to prove that a Spectre went rogue, be given the honor of the first human to join the group, and then assigned the task to bring him down with the full trust of the Council. I meant what I said on Saleon’s ship a while ago, Commander. I’ve never met anyone, human or otherwise, like you. You don’t play hard and fast; the ends don’t justify the means. You’re the only person I’ve ever known to get everything done without much collateral damage. Statistically, we should have more casualties in a day than we’ve had up until this point. I read the file on Jenkins. My species isn’t big on luck, Shepard, but what happened to him was no more than an accident. There was no way of knowing the geth were going to be there. In short, it was bad luck, Commander.”

                He felt like an idiot as he spoke too hastily for what he was saying. It blatantly sounded like a cover story in both his subharmonics and regular voice. Garrus avoided Shepard’s eyes as much as he could; he never associated the color green with fire until that moment. Her emerald gaze bore into him as she tried to search for what he was avoiding.

                “Garrus?” Her inquiry was accompanied with a tenderness he had never heard from her. Her tone was nearly as unwonted as his vocal paroxysm. She had disregarded what he had said. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Do I need to go get Dr. Chakwas?”

                The turian shifted against the Mako and took a breath to calm his nerves. The doctor was more than likely at rest as was the rest of the crew. As far as Garrus was concerned, only he, Shepard, and a few mandatory crew members were awake. The closest person aside from Shepard was the maintenance individual watching the drive-core, and they weren’t one to leave their station for too long, in the very unlikely event that something goes awry. His situation with the commander was the most private one he had had with her since boarding the Normandy, and he got the impression that he was going to botch it.

                “N…no. Commander, that won’t be necessary. I guess I’m just nervous. We are about to go after one of the most respected and revered asari matriarchs. Are we really prepared for that, Commander? I’m in no doubt of your abilities, I just know that Liara’s going to want to accompany you when we arrive. When the time comes, do you think she’ll be able to pull the trigger?”

                Shepard gave pause as she turned the inquiry around in her head. Garrus could tell that she was working over it, not because she hadn’t anticipated it, but rather how she was going to answer. He was knowledgeably cognizant of the certain looks she would give, and strangely more so after what happened on Dr. Saleon’s ship. He had noticed more about her in the past week than he had since meeting her, taking in and compartmentalizing her idiosyncrasies and her preferences. Garrus had even taken note to the certain ways she would have her hair depending on what mindset she was in. It was obvious when she rushed and when she took her time.

                He was doing it again, realizing that he paid more attention to his commanding officer, a Council Spectre, a human. It was developing into something of an autonomic function; he observed Shepard unintentionally and each time learned a new aspect to her character. Garrus rarely gave mind to anyone when it came to appearances. He didn’t care what they looked like, so long as they could do what they had to with efficacy. As long as a sniper could shoot on their mark and a biotic could bend things with their mind, what did their appearance matter? The last person he had paid attention to was a fellow officer who, after several sparring matches, decided to break the tension in a less military-approved fashion.

                “I’m confident in Liara’s abilities. I trust her to make the right call when the time comes. Still, Benezia’s her mother. I can’t imagine what this will be like for her…”Shepard’s calculated response removed him from his thoughts, and thankfully so. His eyes might have been looking at her face, but he was focused on the way her hips swayed when she shifted her weight from one side of her body to the next.

                “I understand, Commander. And, if you believe that Liara will be able to set aside her feelings, then I believe you,” returned Garrus earnestly. He did trust Shepard’s judgment of others, and he was, to say the least, hopeful that his trust regarding this issue was not misplaced.

                A momentary silence fell between them and Garrus was once again left to his thoughts. And once again those thoughts had Shepard being cynosure. They were not as easily dispelled as the previous had been. He focused on what he could not visually see, but what he could feel from her. It was a rare occurrence, but Garrus would get certain notions about people for inexplicable reasons. What he experienced when he was around the commander was not something he cared to put into words or even solidified thought. His faith in her ran deeper than what it should have. There was an urgency within him to prolong her longevity. Though he would not admit it, that urge stemmed from a place bathed in selfishness.

                “Is that all that’s on your mind, Garrus? I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you’ve seemed distracted for a majority of the conversation. If you’re uninterested in talking, just let me know. I won’t take it personally,” asked Shepard, her voice donning the unwonted tenderness from before. Perhaps his perception of her tone was the unwonted element, rather than the tone itself. Her words were germane to her tone; she was, to some level, concerned about him.

                His mandibles oscillated slowly as he vacillated between confessing the complicated conglomeration of incomplete thoughts and remaining silent. Garrus did not make an attempt to control his outward emotional actions. It was a sign that there was something he wanted to discuss, but the time that elapsed was indicative of his indecision.

                “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, Shepard. My judgment and performance won’t be compromised.”

                “That’s not why I was asking,” Shepard quickly responded. She let out a sigh before continuing. “I want you to know that you can talk to me if there’s something troubling you, but I won’t press.”

                Another pause from Garrus warranted a frown from Shepard and he watched as she received it as a desire to end the conversation. The interest was slowly melting away from her disposition and being replaced with a detached expression. He wanted her to maintain her interest in him. He wanted to keep her with him, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

                “I…” he started laconically. This wasn’t something he could say with a limited vocabulary. Perhaps the commander would use her deductive reasoning skills to rationalize and figure out what he wanted to actually say to her. “I know I can, Commander. There is something that I want to discuss with you…I think. I’m just…” He cut himself off again. Garrus was not certain that she would want to hear the continuation.

                Her expression transformed once again. She seemed strangely curious and more involved than she had been before. It unsettled something within Garrus, but not enough to persuade him to fabricate an excuse. A desire to evade the conversation was present, nearly prevalent, but he felt like Shepard had a right to know. They were his thoughts, his private imaginings and esoteric musings, but they all revolved around Commander Shepard, the human Spectre, sole survivor of Akuze, colony kid, and everything she did. Garrus did not get the impression that Shepard would take it well, but he still felt it reasonably necessary to mention it now, for the sole reason of not wanting her to leave.

                “I’m just not sure how I want to say it, or if you even would want to hear it. I’m a subordinate. If this were a turian vessel instead of Alliance, I could be transferred for what I want to say,” Garrus confessed with a wide air of caution. He did not realize how awkwardly that came out until Shepard narrowed her eyes, in what he took as curiosity. Humans had their emotions scrawled over their faces like iridescent neon lights, but like the lights, they could be confusing to the mind as a result of the brightness. A smile then cracked on her previously straight lips, so he urged himself to continue. “What I mean is…and I want you to tell me if I’m stepping out of line, Commander, you’re different. From every human and every other species in this galaxy. You’re…better. Smarter. Graceful. But nowhere near arrogant. You make everything look easy, but you work your ass off. I admire you, Shepard. As a commanding officer and as a friend…”

                The hanging note upon which he left his speech heavily implied a silent continuation of what he truly wanted to say but could not manage to produce. It was obvious that Shepard noticed in the way she shifted closer to Garrus. Perhaps the implications of what he truly wanted to divulge would be understood without having to necessitate a vocal confession. Shepard was an effigy of logic and deduction, she had to be. He was hoping that she would fit the pieces together. The turian was not accustomed to managing any type of emotion toward a superior officer in any way other than professional. His interest in Shepard was unique, an isolated experience that he would not hesitate to dub an accident.

                “I have to say, Garrus, this isn’t something I expected to hear from you,” Shepard began delicately. He couldn’t tell if she was being tactful and letting him down easy or if she was going to further the situation. He had half a mind to believe that she did not know exactly the direction she was going, either. “But it’s not at all unpleasant to hear. I was wondering what you were getting at.”

                She had understood what he meant. If anything, he could take away the knowledge that she can read and understand turian mannerisms. However, he would be lying to himself if he told himself that was all he wanted out of what was happening. He was stepping out on a very narrow limb by expressing any kind of unprofessional interest in a commanding officer.

                “I…I didn’t want to say anything if you are already involved with someone…” he sputtered nervously. “There have been several rumors exchanging lips among the crew. I tend to take scuttlebutt with a grain of salt, I think that’s what you humans say, so I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

                “You were smart to not make them,” noted the commander with a nod. “Assumptions are dangerous things to make, regardless of the subject. However, on this particular one, you are in the clear, Vakarian. Now, what was it that you wanted to say exactly?”

                She was still going to put him on the spot.

                “Hmm…I was…Shepard with everything that’s going on… Saren and the Geth, I know you have a lot of preoccupations and responsibilities. I know the mission comes first, but I have a bad feeling about the future. I-I guess I didn’t want to leave anything without resolution in case things go sour. I have complete faith in you, Commander, but I didn’t want to leave this alone in the event of the impossible happening.”

                She hesitated for a moment, as if wavering between her options, then took a relaxed step closer to Garrus.  “If you’re saying that you’re interested, Garrus, it doesn’t go without reciprocity. I know we have our differences, but I consider you a close friend. If you’re willing to see where this goes, I’m willing to give it a try.”

                He had expected rejection or some kind of dissuasion. Shepard was not pressing for a relationship, nor was she refusing it. She was approaching it with the same amount of caution and impartiality she approached most of everything. It was discomfiting in a way that did not disrupt his nerves, a contradiction in every sense.  She was unsettling in a calming way, disruptively pacifying. His mind had been removed momentarily from the conversation as it tried to process what had occurred. Had she suggested the possibility of a relationship?

                “Um…hmm…yeah. Sure, it’s worth a shot…” Garrus hadn’t intended on his tone of voice, but there was a current of instability in his subharmonics.

                “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Garrus. If you don’t want to pursue this, I’m not trying to pressure you,” reaffirmed the commander. It was strange that she was the one saying that she didn’t want to pressure him, considering he was the one who brought it up. Of course, she was the one who presented the possibility of an actual relationship, so it made sense in a way.

                “You don’t have to worry about that being a problem, Shepard. I didn’t think this would even come to light. Whatever happens, happens. At the very least, we can say we tried. I know the mission is priority, and I won’t let my, uh, personal feelings affect my performance in the field.”

                Curious cerulean eyes watched as Shepard’s lips drew back in a smile. He had seen her smile before, but the entire construction of this one appeared to be different. It was gentle, personal, reserved in its intentions. Her smile was one precisely for him, though there was no one else around for it to be for. He hadn’t smiled around Shepard since coming aboard the Normandy, not exactly. Turians varied in every way from humans; smiles were no exceptions. His species did not have lips or mouths as humans did, but their mandibles could fluctuate, and often gave away their emotional state.

                Garrus fanned his mandibles out minutely, not wanting to overwhelm her with it, given that it could be unexpected and ill-received by humans. When she gave no indication of discontent, he spread them a bit further, allowing them to fix themselves if a comfortable equivalent to hers.