Their Finest Hour

Title: Their Finest Hour, Chapter 8

Author: Braigwen (Formerly Draygon)

Game: Mass Effect

characters/pairing: F!Shep/Garrus

Disclaimer: Bioware owns it all. I am just playing with their toys. U No SU. Also, SPOILERS for all the things!

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Jacob grunted as he turned over, punching his pillow in a vain attempt to soften the Alliance issue brick into something comfortable. He had spent the last month helping the Alliance researchers study the weapons he and Shepard had acquired from the Collectors. Even with all the evidence he had handed the Alliance about the Omega Four relay, the Collectors and the Reapers, including raw footage from Shepard's helmet-cam, most still had a difficult time getting their heads around the fact that the Reapers existed, had slaughtered the Protheans and now used them as puppet vanguards for their next invasion.

"Experimentation on subjects like litmus test. Fascinating." Mordin had said when he had first began studying the Seeker Swarms from Freedom's Progress.

"You mean kind of like sampling the stew to see if it's done?"

Mordin had pondered his analogy for a moment, before nodding once. "Apt."

Jacob finely gave up on sleeping, his stomach churning after remembering his conversation with Solus combined with everything they had seen. He needed some air. Slipping on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, Jacob left his quarters and took the lift down to the gym.

"Couldn't sleep, either?"

Jacob started as he exited the lift. Apparently, insomnia was going around. "Nope," he stated as he began warming up by stretching on the mats. The other man was nearly a head taller than Jacob and heavily muscled, his arms ringed with tribal tattoos.

"To tell the truth, most of the station has been running on caffeine and double shifts since Shepard was brought in." The heavily muscled man dropped down from the chin-up bar, stretching his arms as he regarded Jacob with a lopsided grin. "Must have been some feat to get The Shepard in custody."

Jacob scoffed, landing the first few blows to the punching bag nearest the center mat. "She didn't fight." He took the muscle-head's confused look in stride. "If Shepard didn't want to be caught, you'd never find her. If she wanted to escape, you'd never be able to stop her." Jacob landed a few more jabs on the bag, looking sidelong at his companion. "She's here because she knows if she ran, the galaxy wouldn't trust her when the Reapers got here. She's here to give everyone a fighting chance."

The soldier regarded Jacob with a blank expression. He had known Shepard was good, but he never understood just how good until now. He watched Jacob pummel the punching bag, suddenly full of hundreds of questions. "So, what was it like? Working with Shepard, I mean."

Jacob steadied the punching bag he was using, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Like the hardest drill instructors I've ever had all rolled up into one person. After we got the crew together, she would drill us until we couldn't walk, then she'd push us harder." Jacob chuckled as he sat down beside the muscled soldier on the bench. "Miranda didn't take too kindly to being ordered around like a green recruit, but Shepard took a disparate group of misfits and a Geth and made us into a team."

"Wait," the other man held up his hands. "A Geth? How?"

Jacob shrugged. "Still not entirely sure, myself. Because she's Shepard, I guess." He watched as the other man nearly had an aneurysm with the information.

"You think your head's going to explode now, but Shepard actually got a quarian and a geth to work together."

James laughed. "Ok, now you're screwing with me. What? You're serious!" James rubbed his eyes with the pads of his thumbs. "How does that even happen?"

Jacob shook his head as he wrapped a towel over his shoulders. "I watched her for almost a year and I still don't know how. She's this strange combination of brute force and charisma mixed with sexy and enough balls to headbutt a krogan."

James leaned forward and hung his head. "Jacob Taylor." Jacob held out his hand, waiting for the muscled soldier sitting beside him to do the same.

"James Vega." James took the offered hand, but stayed silent, lost in thought.

"So," Jacob had spent the better part of a year not being able to walk three steps without someone to talk to. The silence didn't sit well with him anymore. "What's the Alliance going to do with all the intel we tossed into their laps?"

"What can they do, man? All that information's got the brass shitting bricks."

Jacob had to admit that he understood. "So their not all idiots?"

"Heh, no. Not all of them. But there isn't much they can do, right now. The Alliance starts mobilizing and the batarians will lose their shit, and were all fucked in the end."

"So we wait." Jacob tossed his towel on the bench as he got up, stretching his shoulders. "Well, might as well do something. You up for a sparring session?"

James shrugged his shoulders as he, too, got up, popping his neck before taking up a defensive stance several feet away from Jacob. "Sure. I have time to whoop your ass before my shift starts."

Jacob laughed, thumbing his nose once before taking his position in front of James. "Your on!"

---

Shepard awoke with a start, bleary eyes focusing on the room in front of her, knuckle prints fresh on her cheek. She exhaled and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes as she yawned. It had been over a month, yet she was still disoriented when she woke up. The first night had felt like a bad dream.

Shifting her head slightly, Shepard glanced at the clock on her desk and groaned. Her grandmother had called this the 'Bitch Hour'. Too early to get ready for her shift, and too late to go back to sleep.

Grunting at her stiff muscles, Shepard got up from her desk and trudged across her quarters to the private bathroom. There, she turned on the shower, turned it to its coldest setting, stripped down and jumped in. The water on Arcturus Station could get to near freezing and Shepard hissed as the spray hit her skin. Quickly, she washed herself and hopped out, toweling herself dry as fast as she could before slipping her clothes back on. As she buckled her belt, something caught her eye in the mirror.

Shepard slowly approached the mirror, and as she watched, the reflection clouded over until the only thing visible was her image. Her heart raced as the darkness shifted and a three-fingered talon came out of the shadows to grip her reflection's shoulder. Shepard startled and flung herself back from the mirror and fell...

Shepard landed with a thud on the floor, her chair turned on it's side. Shaking, Shepard slowly scooted herself until she was sitting with her back to the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. She breathed deep, willing her body to stop trembling. She had recognized the hand that had gripped her reflection, remembered the cybernetic enhancements poking through the graying flesh, and not for the first time, wondered just how much of her mind was truly her own.