Disclaimer: Mass Effect and Garrus are not mine. They belong to the storytelling geniuses of BioWare, and I can only borrow them for a little :)

A/N: First, a huge and heartfelt thank-you to the wonderful people of BioWare. Really. I didn't honestly think you'd give us Garrus, and you did in spectacular fashion. I was wrong to doubt you. Second, this contains minor and vague spoilers for the Garrus romance, and obviously spoilers for the first Mass Effect. Read at your own risk. Third, I'm using the same Shepard I did in my much older ME fics. Upon replaying the first Mass Effect, I significantly changed her personality, though not her backstory--this is written with the new personality, and there is no continuity between this and my older Mass Effect stuff.

Once

By KSCrusaders (aka Sable Rhapsody)

Be careful what you wish for.

It was what Executor Pallin had told him, after he nearly resigned from C-Sec over Dr. Saleon. In hindsight, Garrus couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the past few years of his life. Pallin had--for the most part--been absolutely right about him.

He'd longed a chance to go after Saren. An opportunity to learn outside C-Sec. A way to prove himself. He'd wanted adventure, intrigue--events on a scale to awe even his father. But most of all, he'd wished for freedom from the endless laws of the Citadel so he could go after the bad guys his way--a world without rules.

But unlike most people, he had worked to turn those wishes into reality. And he had been granted each one. It started as a position on the Normandy in the mission to bring down Saren, something one particular woman had granted him, but soon snowballed out of control. A world without rules still had patterns, currents, deadly eddies and undertows. It was never as easy, never as free as it appeared, and he had made more than his fair share of mistakes--and paid the terrible price of each.

He remembered wishing for something impossible while pinned down by the Eclipse mercenaries, exhausted and strained to his limit. Longing to see her face just once, to feel the confidence and calm she inspired in him before he died. And when he'd spotted those bright blue eyes peering intently at him around a corner in the scope of his sniper rifle, he could have believed in any miracle.

Garrus sat on the edge of the bed and ran a finger ever so lightly along her pale skin, his hand following the faint traces of scars. He never would have guessed that this human woman, fast asleep beside him, would change his life so utterly. Here in their last moments of peace before the morning, he could almost see the tangled threads of their lives, twisting through hell and storm and death, coming to rest together just a few hours before the most dangerous mission anyone could imagine.

They were both broken. Damaged, and in some ways irreparably. It didn't show on her face like it did on his, but it didn't mean the scars weren't just as deep. He would never be that idealistic cop again. And she--well, she had never even had the chance for such things. Her life on Earth, then the disaster on Akuze...even her first victory over Sovereign had not come without cost. Nothing was free for her, nothing was easy, no matter how effortless she had made it look.

Yet somehow, very few people noticed how part of her was completely shattered. Maybe it was because he was a turian, less blinded by human expectations of their own. Maybe she'd assumed he wouldn't pick up on the difference between her myriad masks and her true self. But Garrus hadn't become a C-Sec investigator for nothing, and he'd certainly noticed. She was unfailingly courteous, patient, confident--and under it all, as alone as anyone could ever be.

And now she lay here, her stomach pressed against his back, utterly at peace. He remembered saying something about the calm before the storm when they first awkwardly broached the subject. It was just a metaphor, but true. Like matter to a singularity, she had drawn him in--unwittingly, for the most part, as she did to so many others who got caught up in the inertia of what she did. But now that he sat here, at the apex of the singularity, he found it calm and quiet, and far less terrifying than he ever would have believed.

She stirred a little, and her eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment, squinting in the dim light, to focus in on his face. "Can't sleep?"

Kaliya Shepard sat up, the sheet falling from her bare shoulders as she blinked sleepily up at him. Garrus shook his head and smiled.

"I'm fine," he said, continuing to stroke her skin. "Just thinking."

"Now you sound like me," she said, and scooted to sit beside him. Garrus automatically reached for the blanket and wrapped it around her, pulling her close. Turians ran hotter than humans, and feeling her cool, soft body pressed against his was oddly soothing.

"Who would have thought," he said, giving voice to his earlier musings, "that we'd end up here? You and I?"

She didn't immediately reply. Instead, she reached up to his face, her slender fingers tracing the scars like a ghost. "Humans at least have a tendency to remember exceptional rather than routine events, and draw incorrect conclusions from them," she said slowly. "But irrational as it sounds, I can't help but feel that some luck was at work when Pallin set you on Saren's case."

"Bizarre sort of luck." He closed his eyes and purred a little as her hands worked around to the back of his neck, allowing himself to enjoy the still-strange sensation.

She chuckled, and Garrus felt himself smiling. "You like that sound."

"I do. Your jaw and chest hum a little when you do it." There was a kind of childish, naive curiosity in her voice that surely wouldn't have been there had she been turian. He didn't have a particular attraction to humans, but there was something unique in how new this all was--to both of them. Alluring, exotic, and just a little bit terrifying.

Garrus opened his eyes and ran both hands through her thick black hair. It was one of things about human biology that fascinated him; no other species had anything quite like it. Dark hair was quite common among humans, but the contrast it made with her pale skin and blue eyes was striking. It was a pity that very long hair was impractical for a soldier--he would have loved to see Kaliya with long flowing hair. The dark strands slid through his fingers, smooth as water, soft like fabric.

"If I'd known you liked my hair so much, I would have done something with it," she said.

"No, I like it loose," he said quickly. "It makes you look--well, I--you look...nice like this."

She gave him an unfathomable look, mouth quirking a little. "What, by turian standards?"

"No," he said, puzzled. "By my standards. What else would I--" He stopped when she started laughing, eyes twinkling at him in the gloom. "Shepard, you're just teasing me now!"

"I'm sorry," she said, still laughing. "It's just that something horribly ironic's occurred to me. You and I just spent the night together, and yet we seem to have no idea of what the other person typically considers attractive." She paused, looking at the confused and slightly alarmed expression on Garrus's face, and dissolved back into giggles.

Garrus sighed. "We really did just stumble into this one headfirst, didn't we, Shepard? It's not like us."

She sobered up and shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "It really isn't."

There was a long silence. But her words made him curious, and he had to ask. "So what do humans consider attractive, then?"

She was quiet, thoughtful. "It's different for both genders," she said finally, her tone calm and almost clinical. "Certain facial structures and body proportions are more attractive to humans than others; generally speaking, clear skin, good physical fitness, a rectangular body shape for men, and a curvier one for women. Light eyes, pale skin, and light hair are genetically rare among humans nowadays, so those qualities are somewhat prized."

"Eyes like yours," said Garrus. She flushed pink and smiled a little as he hooked a finger around her chin, tipping her face up toward his. She really did have the most incredible eyes he'd ever seen--brilliant blue with the faintest traces of silver, the color of the mass effect fields.

"So what about turians?" she asked at length.

"Well," he said slowly, "waist and fringe, like I told you. Hands too." He took hers in his, her slender little human fingers resting in between his powerful talons. "For males and females, very resonant voices are especially appealing."

She looked curious. "I thought that was just an artifact of my translator. Like with the hanar."

He shook his head and reached for the omni-tool lying on her bedside table. "No. Here, hold still." He held the omnitool up to her neck and activated it, punching through the short sequence that would temporarily disable her translator.

And then, on a wild impulse, he did something he never would have dared do if her translator was still active. Holding her face between both palms, he leaned forward and pressed his cheek against hers, murmuring three sacred and forbidden words into her ear.

He heard her breath hitch and pulled back. Her eyes were wide and filled with wonder as her fingers traced down his cheeks, his throat. "I...it--you sound...it's beautiful," she whispered. "What did you say to me?"

Garrus turned her translator back on, hardly believing his own nerve. "I'll tell you after we give those Collector bastards hell," he replied, trying to keep his own voice from shaking.

"Collectors. Right. Just another reason for me to take them down." She shook her head. "You ever wonder what it'd be like to have a normal life, Garrus?"

He thought about it for a moment. Normal. Since meeting her, his life had been anything but. And her life had never been anything approaching "normal," even as a child.

"If things had been normal..." he began slowly. "If Saren never found that Reaper and turned traitor--I suppose Sovereign might have found some other puppet, but who knows when that would happened? No Eden Prime, no C-Sec investigation...no mission."

"You would still have become a Spectre," he continued. "How could you not? And I--" He stopped suddenly.

Kaliya gently touched her forehead to his, a gesture of affection for both their species. "Do you regret it?" she asked. She was calm, collected--or at least appeared to be, though Garrus knew better.

He had to think about it for a moment. He would still have been at C-Sec--frustrated, perhaps, and longing for something more, but nowhere near as jaded and scarred as he was now. He might even have learned to be contented with his lot. It might have been a more peaceful, less shattering life. Comfortable salary, regular hours, less paranoia, no constant spectre of death. But he never would have crossed paths with Commander Kaliya Shepard.

"No," he whispered. "I don't. I can't." He pulled her close, feeling her heartbeat, her skin, her light breath against his neck. "It led me here. To you."

Kaliya's arms tightened around him, and he felt her rest her head against his collar. A few hot tears fell against his skin, and he almost froze. Never, in both missions, had he ever seen her cry. She pulled back and blinked up at him, eyes glistening as she struggled to master herself.

"Is something wrong?" asked Garrus swiftly. The possibilities swirled in his head. Had he hurt her? Done something to upset her? Said something wrong?

"I just--" she began hesitantly, cutting through Garrus's frenzied thoughts. She drew a deep breath, clearly steeling herself to talk, and started over.

"This--us--this is something I thought was a luxury for someone like me," she said quietly. "I never thought--never thought that I'd meet someone who--"

She cut off again and shook her head, frustrated. This was so unlike her. Hesitant, unsure, so different from the Kaliya Shepard the rest of the galaxy saw. Her defenses were down, the curtain peeled back.

"I'm sorry," she said briskly. "I'm not usually this bad at communicating." The blue eyes stared at him, wide and still a little glassy, pleading for him to say something to fill the expanding silence.

And then he realized that he'd been deluding himself. She may have been the one who set their unlikely paths in motion, but she needed him as much as he needed her. She, the first human Spectre. The savior of the galaxy, hero and legend of the Citadel, needed him. He brushed the tears from her eyes and smiled.

"Hey, it's all right," he said. "I understand. And I don't bite. Much, anyway." That got a small smile from her. He flopped back on her bed and opened his arms toward her.

"Come here," he said. "Enough soul-searching for tonight." Her smile widened as she curled up against him and closed her eyes.

"Garrus?" she murmured sleepily.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Garrus chuckled and wound his fingers through her hair. "I'm always here, Kaliya." And as he watched her slowly fall asleep, he realized she had granted him one other, precious wish.

He'd wanted this to go right so badly, for just one thing to fall into place. And being here, with her--this was the easiest thing he'd ever done. The hardest in some ways--the daunting prospect of navigating their different species and biology had kept him from considering it for quite a while. But now that he was actually here, it felt as natural and simple as breathing.

The unspoken words, the awkwardness of even contemplating what they were doing, their hesitation and reservations and fears had just fallen away as soon as he touched her skin. This was right. With no need for explanation or definition--this just was.

He waited until she'd fallen asleep before letting himself drift off. He knew he needed rest for the storm to come. But he'd be walking into the Collector base tomorrow with her. With the memory of this one still oasis in time. And if he had to die tomorrow, it would be in her service, at her side.

He wouldn't have it any other way.