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Never Again	By : ArcadiaJones Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 5322 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or ideas of Mass Effect. They belong to Bioware, and I am making no money writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 7
- 8
- 9
Eight

Things were quickly coming to a boil. Shepard did everything she could to build her team up—even going as far as reactivating a geth and accepting it into their crew—and help them to tie up any loose ends. It was a given that they might not survive this mission and she wanted to make sure that everyone’s focus was on what they had to do, not what they had forgotten.

Garrus watched as Shepard threw herself into dangerous situations for her crew, heedless of her own life. Helping Samara was the worst; they nearly fought over the asari’s plan for Shepard to meet an Ardat-Yakshi alone and unprotected. But no matter what he said, Shepard did what she wanted, and Garrus finally gave up on trying to stop her and did all he could to make sure that he was always by her side.

But it worried him still, because Shepard was giving everyone else closure, but didn’t seem to think on what she needed to do for herself. Garrus brought the subject up casually one night as they lay entwined on her bed, and Shepard had just snuggled closer and said that she had all she wanted. But Garrus was determined to do something for her, no matter how simple. She deserved something nice and relaxing, at least—far away from the gunfire and the looming specter of the Omega 4 relay.

He was mulling over the idea as he headed into the cockpit, trying to think of somewhere pleasant and out-of-the-way where they could enjoy some time together and the crew could take a breather with some shore leave. Garrus wasn’t completely comfortable with their relationship being in the open, but it was a small ship and he knew that Joker—being Joker—would know everything anyways. Hell, the impish pilot had probably listened in on them more than once.

“Joker, I need some advice.”

The human turned his chair to regard the turian, a wolfish glint coming into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, buddy, but I can’t help you with figuring out the Commander’s G-spots. I’d be surprised if that woman even had any.”

Garrus blushed at the man’s blatant revelation—his mind distantly thinking of her arching and screaming beneath his touch—and fought back the urge to hit the smug human. Joker was just being himself, and there was no amount of broken bones that could change him now.

“Thanks, but that’s not quite the advice I was looking for.”

“Oh? Well, then I’m intrigued.”

“I think Shepard needs a, uh…vacation. Y’know, before the shitstorm hits.”

Joker stared at him. At some point, EDI had made her appearance, and even she seemed to be staring at him. The unblinking scrutiny was beginning to make Garrus feel uncomfortable.

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

“Well…no. I just can’t imagine the Commander taking a vacation. She always seems so content on the ship.”

“I know. Shepard would never admit that she’s overworked, and that’s what worries me. She needs some time to take her mind off of everything that’s coming.”

“The psychological mindset of a human in Shepard’s position is prone to stress,” EDI remarked. “I think Mr. Vakarian’s idea is sound.”

“Great, so we’re all in agreement.” Joker rolled his eyes at the AI. “But if you were already decided, then what do you need my advice for?”

“Well…I wasn’t sure where to go. C-Sec doesn’t exactly train its officers on good vacation spots.”

An almost evil glint came into the pilot’s eyes. “Oh yeah, I know of a real good place…”

“No strip clubs,” Garrus warned.

“Cool your jets, bud. It’s a big tourist spot complete with romantic views and all that bullshit…and a few fun places down the boulevard…” The last he said under his breath. Garrus glared at him.

“Hey, now! I know you’re doing this for Shepard, but you’ve gotta think about the rest of the crew too! Especially me!”

Sighing, the turian shook his head. “Very well. But if we get there and it’s a giant ‘red-light district’ planet, I will break your bones.”

“Noted.”

“Thanks, Joker. I’m going to go get the crew together for a little party down in the mess…try to keep Shepard occupied. Not a word, you hear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the pilot gave him a mock salute as Garrus headed back down the hall.

Shepard was sitting at her desk, looking through some encrypted messages that had come in from the Illusive Man. Even in a simple letter, he sounded smug. How she wanted to take one of those damn cigarettes and shove it up—

The ship lurched forward suddenly as its FTL drives were engaged. Well, now that was odd. Normally Joker waited for her to give the order before they headed anywhere. If this was his idea, then something was bound to go wrong. Stretching out a few knotted muscles in her shoulders, Shepard rose to her feet and headed to the door. Best to diffuse the situation now before it got completely out of hand.

When the elevator doors slid open, she came face-to-chest with Garrus. Shepard craned her head back to look up at him, one eyebrow cocked in question.

“Any idea what’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. Now come on, we don’t want to keep your guests waiting.”

“‘My guests’? Did I miss something?”

Garrus silenced her by leaning down and running his tongue along the smooth flesh of her throat. She shuddered, clutching at his arms. Shepard started to reach for him, but Garrus dodged out of the way. Growling, she glared up at him hotly.

“Tired already?” she purred, running her fingers over his jaw. A quiver ran down his spine, and Garrus quickly removed her hand before he lost control and pushed her back into the cabin.

“No, no. But we’ve got to get downstairs.”

“I don’t want to go downstairs…”

Garrus groaned. Spirits, she was too damn sexy. “Please, Shepard…humor me while I can still think straight.”

She sighed gustily but obligingly relinquished her attack. “Fine. Lead the way!”

The elevator reached the third floor, the doors sliding open. Shepard led the way around the corner into the mess hall where she was confronted by the entirety of the Normandy’s crew. Her recruited aliens and the Cerberus humans all gathered around, cheering as she entered the room.

“Shepard!” they cried, raising all sizes and colors of drinks in the air.

The warmth that emanated from her crew touched Shepard deeply; in that moment, she loved each and every one of them with every fiber of her heart. And in the same sweep of emotions, she hated herself for having to take them on such a hopeless mission.

Sensing her sudden change in mood, Garrus quickly swept her over to the kitchen where Rupert had managed to transform his counter into a makeshift bar.

“The strongest you’ve got, Rupert!” he ordered, and the mess Sergeant laughed as he obeyed.

Shepard denied the shot of dark liquor that he offered. “No, no. Something simple, if you don’t mind.”

Suddenly Grunt was at the “bar” next to her, leaning over as he hissed hot, krogan breath across her face. “What’s the matter, Battlemaster? Not strong enough to handle your alcohol?”

She snorted. “I can drink you under the table any day, big boy.”

Amusement flared in his eyes. “That a challenge?”

The rest of the crew began to cheer with renewed vigor, egging their Commander on. Shepard looked around at their faces, trying to look as if she were surprised they had all betrayed her, but failing as her lips curled into a smile.

“Don’t take that shit from the giant lizard!” Jack roared as she sloshed her own, blue-tinted beverage. “Drink!”

Samara and Thane were the only quiet ones in the room, though even they were smiling as they sipped at their own—most likely something non-alcoholic—drinks. Even Garrus laughed with the others, eyes sparkling as he wondered what she would do. During their hunt for Saren, Shepard had rarely indulged due to strict Alliance command; but the Alliance was no longer here, and Cerberus was far less constricting about what its “employees” chose to do in their down time on the ship. It would be fun to watch Shepard let her hair down and join the rest of them in the plane of normalcy.

Locking gazes with Grunt once more, Shepard twisted her lips into a feral smile. “You’re on!”

There was a roar of approval, and then the pair was being herded over to a table, seated across one another as a few of the more helpful crew began filling shot glasses. Shepard looked down at the green liquid quizzically.

“Um, what is this?”

“A special asari brew,” Rupert explained. “Strong enough in its own right, and not half bad. I could always use a krogan brew if ya’d like.”

Shepard shuddered. “No, this will do just fine.” She knew what krogan alcohols could do to a non-krogan biological structure…

Raising their glasses in a salute, the pair downed the first shot. Shepard hissed as the liquor burned its way down her throat; but, as Rupert had said, it wasn’t unpleasant. Almost sweet. A second pair of shots was poured and they continued.

Joker had joined the party after the pair had finished their ninth shots, and the look on his face as Shepard greeted him in an overly-enthusiastic manner was priceless.

“Joker! Tells ush a joke! He’sh sho funny, didjakno?” she informed the others, bursting into uncontrollable laughter a moment later.

“Youshud keepsh yer head…in game!” Grunt warned, and then looked around in confusion as the crew joined in her laughter. Even Thane couldn’t help but chuckle; the sound of a drunk krogan was rather amusing, after all.

Grunt finally won the contest, but just barely. After her twenty-first shot, Shepard slurred something crude about varren and then passed out; one more shot and he followed suit. Garrus had moved in quickly to gather the woman in his arms before the press of drunken bodies stole her away, leaving the tank-bred, several-ton krogan for someone else to clean up.

As he rode the elevator back up to Shepard’s cabin, the woman snoring softly in his arms, Garrus smiled. Her head would hurt in the morning, but luckily Mordin had given him some pills that would take away the major effects of the hangover. All that mattered was that Shepard had seemed to enjoy herself—and it was the first time any of them had ever seen their commanding officer drunk, which was always fun.

Garrus stepped into her room and gently laid Shepard face-down on the bed, making sure that she wouldn’t suffocate. He then moved a metal pail within easy reach, just in case. Carefully, he stripped her down to her underclothes, fighting back his growing erection.

“Just making her comfortable,” he muttered, assuring himself that his intentions were pure.

Carefully tucked in and asleep, Garrus looked down at his best friend and lover. Even in a drunken stupor, she was beautiful to him. He wanted to lie down next to her, but decided against it. She needed a good night’s rest before tomorrow’s events, and his presence might prevent that. Garrus started to step away, when Shepard’s hand shot out and grasped at the fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t go…” she murmured, eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing once more.

Garrus smiled. He settled down in the bed next to her, gently lifting her up so that he could wrap his arm around her waist.

“As you wish.”
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Never Again