Commander Kaliya Shepard was freezing.

That was her own fault. Teaching her how to snipe had been Garrus's idea, but doing so on a windy skyscraper roof on Ilium had been hers. She forced herself to refocus and gazed down the rifle scope at the target Garrus had set up on another rooftop.

She held her breath and relaxed, just as Garrus had taught her. Her combat mindset kicked in-with it came focus, but also an enhanced awareness of the dark energy potential crackling along her nervous system. She tried to shut it out.

A split second later, she saw the little white target fall through the scope sight, one bullet hole neatly placed through its center. She lowered the rifle and looked up at Garrus, who nodded, pleased.

"Nice, Shepard," he said, with the turian equivalent of a smile in his eyes. "You're much steadier now."

She was about to reply when another stiff breeze caught them, and she started shivering.

"I suppose I could have picked a better night to do this," she called over her shoulder to Garrus.

Garrus paused before answering. "It was your call. I could hardly object to a more realistic training setting." She might have imagined it, but there was just a hint of an "I-told-you-so" in his voice before he fell silent.

She peeked back down the scope. Her aim was a little less steady this time. She might have blamed it on the cold, but the truth was that she just couldn't keep the sights from wobbling. And this time, the shot clipped the corner of the target, sending it spinning in crazy circles.

Before she even had time to blink, another shot knocked the target flat. She whirled around to see Garrus, holding one of the standard issue rifles up to his visor with a bit of a mischevious spark in his eyes.

"Show off," said Shepard as she lowered the rifle.

"You did set out to recruit the best in the galaxy, Shepard," he said, chuckling.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Now you're getting cocky. Space William Tell and all."

Garrus's confused expression got a chuckle from her. "William Tell is a human folk hero. The stories about him say that he could shoot an apple off a man's head at two hundred paces with nothing but a bow-primitive weapons we used before guns."

"Ah," said Garrus, still slightly confused. Why would someone wish to shoot food off another's head? Why would the apple be there in the first place? "I imagine it would be quite a dangerous feat," he said, biting back his questions.

"You make harder shots in combat," replied Shepard. "I've seen you do it."

He looked down at her, startled, and to his surprise felt anger welling up. She was so calm about it. As though she took it for granted that he wouldn't make some terrible mistake by accident. She didn't know the brief battle with fear that came before every shot into close combat.

"I do-and mostly around you, as a matter of fact," he said hotly. "Shepard, if I ever hurt a hair on your head, I-"

He stopped suddenly, acutely aware that he was ranting at her for no good reason. He dropped his gaze and took a few deep breaths as a very awkward silence fell.

"I'm sorry, Commander. That was...very out of line."

She blinked at him, surprised. It wasn't like Garrus to suddenly snap like that, out of the blue. He avoided her eyes, but something was clearly bothering him. He'd been strained, on edge, since they'd arrived here on Ilium.

"Garrus? Look at me."

It was an order, but gently given. Reluctantly, he met that steady, brilliant blue gaze that always made him feel like he was being scanned. Her face was calm, composed, nearly unreadable-like it always was.

"I am not your superior officer any more," she said quietly. "Not technically. And although I am the one in charge of this mission, I readily accept input from equals. Speak your mind."

Garrus didn't immediately respond, which was a mistake. She went on, that X-ray blue gaze pinning him to the spot. "You're on edge, Garrus. I need to know why."

Damn her. Garrus sighed, defeated. She always knew. And that she could know so much about her crew and give so little of herself was one of the most frustrating things about her. He nodded mutely and turned his back to her, pacing back and forth along the roof edge as he talked.

"I'm worried, Shepard," he said, wondering how to phrase his words without them sounding paranoid. "Cerberus agents, savage krogan, and now an assassin. I'm not sure about their willingness to go through with the mission. About their loyalty to you."

She smiled, though it didn't touch her eyes. "I know," she said. "But Garrus, it really does come down to whether you trust my leadership." Her smile turned a little bitter as she added, "I can, and will, be quite the actress if I need to."

It was in moments like these, where he got a bit of rare candor from Shepard, that Garrus liked her best. She was such a chameleon. She wore a dizzying array of masks, from diplomat to Spectre to cold-blooded murderer. But there were precious seconds where all that fell away, and she was just the woman he'd come to admire.

"I trust you. You know that. But if it's all the same to you, I'll be keeping an eye on them."

"You and Joker. And Dr. Chakwas," she replied with a chuckle. "You'd think I was some sort of endangered animal, not a Spectre. But I appreciate it, Garrus."

"I'm serious, Shepard. Where do you think I'd be without you?"

He'd just blurted out the words without thinking. She looked genuinely surprised, but gratified nonetheless. She looked down at her feet, then smiled and handed him back his sniper rifle, just avoiding his eyes.

"Here," she said quietly. "It's been a long evening, and we should get back to the Normandy."

Garrus breathed a sigh of relief, glad she'd decided not to press him. He took the rifle back, and his hands brushed hers-she was as cold as ice.

"You're freezing," he said, concerned. Before she could protest, he had taken her hands in his, rubbing them to warm her up.

She just stared at their clasped hands, momentarily unable to speak. She quickly shook herself of her surprise and nodded, letting herself enjoy the warmth of his touch for just a few seconds longer before gently disengaging herself. "Thank you," she said, her composure mostly back in place.

But for just a second, the Commander Shepard facade had slipped, and Garrus had seen something else to her. He looked at her, uncertain, but didn't say anything. The myriad reasons why pursuing his feelings for her was a bad idea swirled around in his head again, the same old arguments he'd had with himself two years ago. He followed her back to the ship in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

"Same time tomorrow, Commander?" he asked as they entered the Normandy's airlock.

She nodded absently. "Of course."

The next evening found Garrus on the same rooftop, carefully setting up targets. He heard a set of footsteps behind him and turned around, expecting Shepard.

Instead, his eyes met Thane's dark, unfathomable gaze. "What are you doing here?" he asked reflexively.

Thane continued to fix him with the same steady stare, disconcertingly similar to Shepard's in its calm. "I can only presume that Commander Shepard has requested aid from both of us." He unclipped his own rifle from his back and adjusted the sight.

It took a few seconds for the meaning of those words to register. Garrus opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it when he imagined Shepard's glare. Normandy wasn't going to be in dry-dock for much longer, he reminded himself. She needed all the practice she could get.

It still didn't keep jealousy from mixing with grudging admiration as he and Thane warmed up, each keeping a close eye on the other. Thane was damn good, as good as he was. Maybe even a little steadier. But he was slower moving from target to target, clearly trained for following one target instead of dealing with hordes of enemies.

"Evening," came Shepard's voice behind them. She was dressed more warmly tonight, a dark blue coat thrown over her uniform, targeting visor glowing softly in the evening light.

She gestured both of them over. There was a kind of hard determination in her eyes, something Garrus remembered from team-building exercises on the first Normandy. His mandibles twitched a little in frustration. He knew why she was doing this, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

She probably caught his expression. Depending on how this went, he might get a dressing-down for it later. "You're the two best snipers on my crew," she said bluntly. "You're going to teach me, and you're going to learn each others' styles by doing so."

She stepped up to the edge of the roof and held her own rifle up, but before she could pull the trigger, Garrus was at her side. "Here," he said, raising his omnitool. "Your visor's Kuwashii model, right?" He hit a few buttons, and the readout flickered from blue to orange and back again. "Custom night-vision setting. Should be a little better in dim to low light."

The knowing smile she gave him was all-too-familiar. She knew having Thane there would spark his competitive edge. Knew the desire for one-upping the assassin would drive him harder, as it had with Ashley or Wrex or Tali.

She didn't know it also made his insides writhe, but he was determined to keep that to himself.

"Crouching will improve your accuracy," said Thane, watching her line up the first shot.

Garrus split his attention between the assassin and his commander as she moved from target to target. He had to admit, she was a lot more like Thane than she was like him in a fight. Cool, precise, thoughtful, calculating. He'd have to throw her for a loop if she was going to learn anything.

"You have to move, Shepard," he said. As he did so, he hit a few keys on his omnitool. Instantly, the little plastic targets began to move around, no longer easy stationary kills.

To her credit, she didn't break concentration, though he did see her hands tense around the gun. That was never good.

"Relax, Shepard," said Thane in his deep, calm voice. "Your soul has the focus and the will. Your body needs to translate them into motion."

It was so much spiritual bullshit to Garrus, but Shepard seemed to get it. She relinquished her deathgrip, and began picking off the targets again, more slowly now that they were moving every few seconds.

Still not good enough. "Gotta be faster than that, Shepard," Garrus said. "What if another wave turns up?"

Thane turned toward him now. "A sniper rifle is a weapon of precision, not mass destruction."

Garrus shrugged. "To you, maybe."

Shepard abruptly got to her feet and holstered the gun. "Is there a problem here?"

The whole thing was a goddamned setup; Garrus knew that from long experience with Shepard. She knew what the problem was. That wasn't what she was asking. Implicit in her calm and casual tone was the challenge-what are you going to do about it?

Of course, Thane wasn't to know that. He'd been on the team for barely a week. The assassin promptly shook his head no.

"I am trained for assassination, Officer Vakarian for police work," he said. "Merely a difference of opinion. Either approach would be beneficial to your skills, Shepard."

Police work. Killing Saren was now "police work." Garrus wondered how much Shepard told the newer team members about the trouble they'd gotten up to two years ago.

She nodded, satisfied with Thane's answer and Garrus's silence. "Fine. Critique for me, then, Thane?"

"Adjusting your grip will reduce strain on your arms, improve weapon stability. May I?" He held out his hands, and she allowed him to gently shift her arms and hands into position.

She gave herself a moment to adjust to the new position, then took aim and shot. Steadier, but still too slow for Garrus's liking.

"Garrus? Thoughts?" she asked, still peering through the scope.

An idea suddenly came to him-she'd either browbeat him for it or think it was brilliant. That made the decision to go for it obvious.

Garrus approached her slowly, then without warning, swung at her with the butt end of his own rifle. She yelped and leapt back dangerously close to the edge, blue biotics flaring up along her skin.

"What in Arashu's name are you doing?" asked Thane, his eyes widening.

Garrus ignored him. "I wouldn't have hit you, Shepard," he said. She didn't drop from her battle stance, eyes narrowing dangerously. "But yeah, I've got some thoughts."

"You're better than you think you are," he said. "Static targets? Easy. Moving targets? Still too easy in my opinion, even if you do bring them down a little slowly. You should be practicing against us, not these white plastic cutouts."

Realization dawned on Thane's face. "You are recommending a sniper's duel," he said. He sounded-pleased? Impressed? "An...odd way to train someone less experienced than us."

And just like a switch had flipped, the biotics surrounding Shepard's body disappeared and she relaxed. Garrus caught a glint of what might have been a smile on her face. "Fine," she said, and Garrus knew he had the upper hand for now. "Ground rules?"

"I presume concussive rounds only," said Thane. "And no biotic abilities."

"Concussive rounds," agreed Garrus. "But feel free to use your biotics for self-defense and mobility. I suggested this so you could snipe in combat, Shepard, not go shooting at a gallery. And in combat, you use biotics."

She looked surprised, but she nodded her agreement, as did Thane. Ten minutes later found them on three separate rooftops with Shepard keyed into the comm. Garrus waited until she'd counted them down, excitement pumping through his veins. This was going to be fun.

"Never saw me coming!"

Shepard winced as a bullet of Garrus's hit her squarely in the shoulder. The rounds did little more than knock her back thanks to Cerberus's upgrades, but she'd still have bruises like hell in the morning.

She was also getting tired of hearing that taunt in her earpiece. But in spite of the pains and the deepening cold of the evening, she couldn't help but be pleased with how things had gone.

The comm in her ear beeped. "I would've killed you twice over now, Shepard," she heard Garrus say in a much lower, calmer voice. "Keep mobile. Don't think so much-trust your instincts."

She resisted the urge to snort into the comm. Her instincts were to cripple, maim, and kill, forged in the fires of Earth and Akuze. She had to reign them in during combat sims to keep from hurting anyone.

There wasn't a lot of cover on her rooftop-the lip of the roof, a small long-abandoned watch post, and the entrance room. She dropped flat as a shot from Thane went whizzing over her head, then rolled a few meters toward the edge before returning fire.

She was rewarded with a surprised grunt over the comm. Thane hadn't expected her to be there. But now, he was tipped off, changing the game. She lay perfectly still on her stomach, wondering how she was going to bluff him again.

BANG. She swore and rolled again as three shots in quick succession followed her to the ledge. Garrus had climbed on top of one of the protrusions on his rooftop-a dangerous position, but now neither she nor Thane had cover from him.

Shepard instinctively threw a biotic shield around herself. "You crafty turian bastard."

Garrus chuckled. "Getting complacent, Shepard. Just because you're farther away doesn't mean-"

He dove sideways off the little metal watchtower when he saw the flash of Thane's muzzle. Damned drell. Every time he thought he'd cornered Shepard, Thane would throw him for another loop. In fact, the assassin seemed to be gunning mostly for him; he hadn't hit her yet. And Garrus knew he was more than good enough to take down a relative rookie like Shepard.

He turned his comm off the public channel and keyed into Thane's signal. "Don't go easy on her," he growled.

"She will be overmatched against two trained snipers," said Thane.

"Yeah," said Garrus. "But you only ever learn when you get your ass kicked."

There was a pause at the other end of the comm. "That explains a great deal about you. And about Shepard," said Thane. It might have come off as an insult, but somehow it didn't sound that way. Garrus was still puzzling it out when another bullet went whizzing by his left side.

"Distracted?" said Shepard.

"Just some friendly chatting," said Garrus, keying back into the public channel. He could have sworn he heard Thane laugh before the bullets started flying once more.

The final score after a half hour of madness ended up being five hits for Shepard, ten for Garrus, and nine for Thane. Pleased as he was with himself, Garrus couldn't help feeling a little guilty on the shuttle back to the Normandy.

Shepard had pulled off her coat, inspecting her bare arms, which were already starting to bruise spectacularly, the purple discoloration livid against her pale skin.

"It's fine," said Shepard when she saw both Garrus and Thane's eyes on her. "I'll hop up to medical when we get back. Fifteen minutes and no harm done." She turned her attentions back to piloting.

Thane looked at Garrus. "How often did you hit her?" asked the drell.

"Seven," answered Garrus softly.

"Turians are a very strange race," said Thane. "You bond over violence and aggression, and it only seems to strengthen your souls."

"The humans seem to get it," said Garrus, thinking of Shepard's dangerous upbringing, Ashley Williams' hardened determination, even Joker's sheer bullheadedness. "They have a saying-what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger."

Inexpicably, Thane smiled. "I confess I have never tested my strength against my allies before. Thank you for the opportunity."

Garrus found himself grinning back. So the assassin wasn't so bad after all, and Shepard was right. Again. "Sure. Maybe Shepard will shoot at us again sometime."

He heard her soft laugh coming from the cockpit. "Count on it."

"Up for another round tomorrow?" said Garrus in the med-bay, ignoring Dr. Chakwas' disapproving tsk.

Shepard smiled a little. "Had fun, did you?"

"EDI's combat sims don't always cut it," he replied. "And I did beat your assassin."

"Not my assassin," she replied absently. Then her smile widened, and she leaned forward on the med bay bed, her legs dangling over the edge. "Getting along ok with Thane now?"

That wiped the satisfied smirk from his face. "You can't make everyone friends with everyone on this ship, Shepard. I never thought I'd say this, but the people we brought down Saren with are a lot saner than your current crew."

"I know," she said. "But I can at least get you all to function together."

"I can see why you get along with him," said Garrus. "You're very alike."

To his surprise, Shepard shook her head. "On the contrary. Unless you count that we both killed our first man before we hit our teens." She inspected her bruises idly as she spoke.

Garrus winced a little at her casual tone. She rarely spoke of her life on Earth, but he knew she'd killed her fair share of people before he even joined the military. Other gang members, corrupt cops, once even a drunk Alliance soldier who got too aggressive with her outside a bar. He was so used to being around her, so used to her remarkable self-control that sometimes he simply forgot how dangerous she was.

They stayed there in silence for a few more minutes until the marks on Shepard's skin faded to a dull yellow. She hopped off the med bay bed, then grabbed a few spare blankets before turning to him.

"Garrus?" she asked as they walked out of the medbay. "Can I ask you for another favor?"

Before he could even reply, she launched into an explanation. "There's something wrong with the heat in the loft," she said, the words spilling out of her. "It's freezing up there, and I don't want to pull Gardner out of bed for something so trivial. Do you mind if I-bunk in your quarters tonight?"

For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming. He couldn't deny he'd had fantasies about this before.

"Garrus?"

He jerked out of the fantasy and blinked down at her. She looked...nervous. Almost uncomfortable. But he didn't have time to contemplate why before he heard himself blurting out, "Of course, Shepard. If there's anything you need-"

She relaxed, breathing an audible sigh of relief. "Thanks. Your bunk's the biggest after Miranda's, and I figured she could use some space after-" She cut herself off. The last Garrus had seen after they secured Oriana two days ago was Shepard walking a distinctly teary and grateful-looking Miranda back to the shuttle. "Anyway, I'll grab some stuff and be right on down," she said before taking off like a shot.

Garrus resisted the urge to tear his quarters apart. There wasn't a whole lot of room in the little bunk attached to the gunnery station, though at least it was warm. The obvious problem lay in where she was going to sleep when the bed was clearly for one.

He firmly squelched the idea of her sharing it with him. She didn't really show it, but Garrus knew that for a marine, Shepard was pretty keen on maintaining her personal space, even with comrades. He still remembered the first time he'd touched her with bare hands, performing a little field medicine on Feros-she'd nearly jumped out of her skin because he didn't warn her.

Garrus looked around the spartan room. Other than his bunk and blankets, all he had in here were clothes, armor maintenance odds and ends, and custom parts for his rifle. Not much in the way of hospitality. Briefly, he wondered if Thane could have done better.

"You're being stupid," he said to himself. His problem wasn't that Shepard was interested in Thane. If she had been, he could read her well enough by now to notice when she treated someone differently. If anything, his problem was that Kaliya Shepard simply didn't seem to care about such things in relation to anyone.

He heard a knock on the door and sighed. He hadn't even gotten out of his armor. "It's unlocked, Shepard," he said.

She walked in, clad in loose sleeping pants and a tank top with a huge bundle of blankets and pillows tucked under her arm. The warmth of the little room washed over her, and she smiled. "Ah. Much better in here. Thank you, Garrus." She closed the door behind her, and Garrus realized in a panic that this was the first time he'd been alone, really alone with her in several weeks. The flurry of activity on Ilium kept them both so busy.

She looked...really different out of uniform. He'd seen her like this before, but the difference was always striking to him. The wiry human female looking curiously around his room didn't seem capable of killing a man in cold blood at age twelve.

"It'll be a little tight," he said as he started undoing the seals of his armor. "Put your stuff on the bed. I'll just-"

"Don't be stupid, I'm not kicking you out of your own bed," she said briskly.

"I understand it's human custom for the host to give his guest the best," said Garrus.

"Garrus, in case you forgot, this is my ship."

"I just shot you seven times," he said, folding his arms. "Give me some of the blankets, and I'll take the floor."

She really wanted to argue, but sometimes Garrus just got really damn stubborn, and it wasn't worth the trouble. And besides, he was right. She could fight mercenaries all day without breaking a sweat, but going up against two master snipers while she was still learning left her pretty drained. At least she'd had the sense to bring the sleeping bag for padding.

She cleared a section of the floor and began laying down the sleeping bag and blankets, trying to keep her eyes off Garrus as he stripped off the bulky armor piece by piece. He seemed comfortable enough changing in front of her. There was a predatory grace and speed that his armor usually concealed in his movements, his very body structure. The soft black underarmor clung to him like a second skin, and she could literally feel him radiating warmth. Or was that just her imagination?

She realized she'd been staring, just a little, and turned away quickly. Thankfully, he had his back to her. She didn't turn back around until she heard the creak of the bunk behind her.

Garrus was tossing and turning slowly under the blankets, and she couldn't help but laugh. "What the devil are you doing?"

"Warming up the sheets for you."

He watched as Shepard's cheeks turned pink, then red, before she burst into laughter.

"I just said something awful in human slang, didn't I?" he asked.

Her continued chuckles were the only answer he needed. He sighed, resigning himself to continued foot-in-mouth syndrome when talking to her. At least he thought that was the human phrase. He sat up and pushed the sheets down to his waist and was about to get out of bed when she shook her head.

"Scoot over," she said.

He gaped at her openly, hardly believing his ears. She turned a little pink again, then continued in her 'commander' voice, "You've decided to come over all noble, and I'm not about to kick you out of your own bunk. If those standard-issue beds will fit two hulked-out Alliance marines, they'll fit us."

"What?" he said blankly, still not sure he wasn't hallucinating or something.

"Don't ask," she said with a sigh.

She still felt rather cold as she slipped into the bed next to him. Her skin was covered with what humans called "goosebumps." Garrus gingerly tucked the blanket around them both, trying to give her as much space as possible in the limited real estate of the bunk. His mind was racing, heart pounding so loud he wondered if she could hear it.

She turned over to face the wall and closed her eyes, breath caught in her throat. She hadn't been imagining the heat. And he was lying there, bare-chested, just inches away. Outside a combat or medical situation, she hadn't let anyone get physically this close to her since Akuze. Only now, with a sudden ache in her chest, did she realize how much she was starved for it.

Hopping into bed with her best friend. She was nuts. But Garrus was so unbelievably warm, almost burning with heat. Finally, she simply said, "Are you comfortable?"

Was he comfortable? Decidedly not.

"Fine," he mumbled finally, his nerve failing him. He scooted just a little closer so they were lightly touching back-to-back. She didn't tense or flinch. If anything, she relaxed, letting out a long slow sigh.

"Good night, Garrus."

He waited until he heard the steady, slow breaths of sleep claim her. Then, he slipped out of the bed and tucked the sheets back around her before getting into the sleeping bag on the floor.

"Good night, Kaliya."