Event Horizon || Garrus Vakarian x FemShep

Chapter One: Wish

"Leave it to the Council to invent tiny, fake problems in place of bigger, much more real, Reaper-shaped ones, eh, Commander?"

The Normandy's intercom cracked slightly with it's pilot's snarky comment, who had been using the ship's internal comm systems to bemoan the crew's current assignment to his commander while she made her rounds. At the moment, said commander was in the shuttle bay, finishing a tune-up on the underside of the M-35 Mako with her turian techie. She smiled wryly through a sheen of sweat and grime.

"Joker, this is the third time today you've started whining about clean-up duty. Are you trying to set a record?"

A rhythmic hum sounded out around the corner of the vehicle - harmonic laughter - as Garrus paused in his system adjustments to offer his own commentary: "Oh, I don't know about that, Shepard. He'll need to do it at least five more times before we have to consult the books."

The woman snorted, patting around searchingly on the floor before retrieving a heavy wrench to tighten a few choice bolts, "Right you are, Vakarian. You've always been good with numbers."

The speakers crackled again, the voice coming from them distinctly bitter: "Oh, very funny, you two. You know Garrus is only good with numbers because he 'calibrates' all day long... Seriously, man, what are you doing half the time?"

Shepard heard a panel on the Mako close, and the sound of steady footsteps as they came to stand at her end of the vehicle, "Well, if you must know, Jeff: One half of my time is spent hunting down rogue spectres, destroying Reapers, and saving the heart of galactic society alongside the famous Commander Shepard..."

A pair of three-fingered hands came to rest on the ground, one reaching forward to coax Shepard out from her tinkering; she tilted her head back to look at it, dark hair mussed and clinging with static to the floor of the shuttle bay from her rolling around. Garrus's mandibles flared slightly with what seemed to be a grin.

"... And the other half is dedicated to re-calibrating systems that a certain Alliance pilot throws out of alignment like they were his own knees."

Joker hissed a wounded laugh over the intercom, and Shepard shook her head with faux admonishment at the turian's insult, accepting the offer of help and beginning to squirm out from underneath the Mako's axle. She wiped her oily hands on her Alliance blues once she was upright, then tossed her head back, making a half-hearted attempt to tuck her frizzy hair back into its tight bun, "I agree with Garrus on all counts but one: He rode the coat-tails of the famous Commander Shepard, and claimed certain killshots as his own when he knows that she won the overall tally."

The turian agent folded his arms across his chest and quirked his hips, the plating above his eyes shifting upwards in a dubious look.

"Keep telling yourself that, Shepard. It might make you feel better."

The woman just returned the look with a grin, reaching back to pat the shell of the Mako with affection: "At any rate, Joker, I'm finished up down here. If you really do want to talk about the job, just give me an hour or so to clean up and I'll come to you."

"Damn, Shep, always so sincere out of nowhere. Makes it hard to keep being a smartass. Just do what you've gotta do, Commander; I promise I'll be good."

With that, the ship's speakers finally fell quiet, leaving nothing but the muffled drone of its engines as it floated through space. Garrus hummed low in his throat, a short sound akin to a cough, or grumble: "So, Shepard... I've been thinking about some things."

It was the human's turn to fold her arms, leaning against the Mako and gesturing for her companion to continue: "Shoot, Garrus. I'm listening."

The turian's mandibles flexed, then closed tight against his jaw, and he scratched at the back of his neck before speaking again.

"Well... I've really come to respect you; the way you fight, how you handle political red tape, and how you take care of your team. Sure, we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, exactly, but when I've needed your advice you've always been there to point me in the right direction."

Shepard's scarred eyebrow lifted, then her expression softened, brown eyes warm with sincerity, "As I've come to see the same in you. You've always had my back where it counted, and I consider you a good friend."

Garrus's breath caught in his throat as he caught his commander's - no, friend's - gaze, and he tried to pick his words carefully.

"Right: Right. I guess I'm trying to ask for that advice - or maybe just your blessing - one more time, then, while we're pacifying the Council; I've actually gotten a few job offers back on the Citadel, ones that are too promising to let sit unread in my inbox. I've been thinking about taking one of them."

The commander could tell that he was being purposefully vague, though for what reason she couldn't tell. She pursed her lips, letting his words hang in the air for a moment while she bent down to collect her tool box, "So... Can you tell me what the offers are?"

Shepard saw the turian's feet shift back and forth, and as she stood again, his mandibles lifted and revealed a wry, toothy grin, "I could, sure, but I like keeping you on your toes."

The sarcasm in his voice faded as she rolled her eyes at his antics, but he kept on, tone becoming serious: "The job I choose doesn't matter much at the moment, really, but the catch is that I'm going to be leaving, Shepard... Soon."

For the briefest moment, Garrus's visor chimed and lit up his vision, indicating a sudden spike in Shepard's heart rate; he brushed it off as a fluke, however, as the woman looked up at him with a sweet and encouraging smile, showing no sign of change from her usual demeanor, "That's a damn shame, Vakarian. I had gotten used to having you around. When do you have to go?"

He stared at her, and she read the silence well. Her chest pinched with disappointment.

"I'm guessing that means you already chose, and it's tomorrow. Shit."

Shepard huffed and shook her head, hoisting her tool box to rest on her hip while a hand came up to rub her temples, "Why didn't you say anything sooner? Does anyone else know?"

Garrus folded his arms and stood straight, shrugging weakly, "I mentioned it to Tali when I first got head-hunted and before she left, but nobody else. I didn't know how to bring it up with you. It may not seem like a big thing, but after what we've been through, and the things you've taught me..."

He trailed off, unable to complete his thought: I think I would have stayed if I had told you sooner.

The silence returned, and the two regarded each other with guarded expressions; Garrus could never tell what the commander was actually thinking. She always put on a stern, motherly face, and the fact that that remained unchanged was driving him insane. Still, after a little more than a moment, her inscrutable expression reverted back to her signature smile, and she reached forward, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder as she gave it an affirming shake.

"Whatever happens, Garrus, I'm proud of you. You're an incredible soldier with a bright future; no matter where that future takes you, know that you'll always have a place on the Normandy, and that you'll always be my friend. We'll miss you."

Shepard was closer than she had ever been outside of combat, unable to help how she had to reach up to grasp him; she smelled of sweat, machine oil, and salt, but now there was a subtle bitterness he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't place it before the contact was over, and she stepped back to clutch her tools again, earning a soft, humming chuckle from him.

"Joker was right. Your sincerity makes being a smartass really hard sometimes."

She laughed, then walked away, the smile over her shoulder towards him captured forever in his visor's camera. Her scent lingered.

"I wish you the best, Garrus. I'll see you off in the morning."

I'll miss you.