Shakarian Compendium - Chapter 5

Here if you need me (Part 2)

“Garrus, I’ve got something new for you to try,” Rupert declared.

Spirits, another one? Garrus fretted inwardly. He still hadn’t found the heart to tell Mess Sergeant Gardner not to bother with the dextro ration experimentations anymore and couldn’t bring himself to say anything now as he seemed too proud of his efforts.

Garrus had to admit that the standard bowl of goo looked more palatable than usual as he was handed his serving. “Is that actual… meat?” he asked, noting the solid chunks and hoping the need to clarify wasn’t too offensive.

“Sure is,” Rupert replied with a delighted grin, “seems the Commander was able to lay her hands on some decent dextro based ingredients on Illium.”

“Seriously?”

Rupert nodded. “Was the darnedest thing I ever saw, all blue and noduled. Looked fit to crawl right off the counter till I was informed it was missing any and all limbs to make that possible. Targeb I think they called it.”

Garrus looked down at the bowl of what was now recognisable as a kind of ‘meat stew’ in his hands, trying to fathom at what point Shepard had, had the opportunity to do this for him. As far as he remembered he’d been with her both times on Illium and between seeing Liara, recruiting Thane – not to mention all the extra things Shepard always found to do – there certainly hadn’t been time to shop for groceries.

“So what the hell is a targeb anyway?” Rupert asked, breaking Garrus’s train of thought.

“I guess the best Earth equivalent would be a cow,” he explained, still quietly stunned. “I… thank you for this,” he managed finally.

“Christ, don’t thank me yet,” Rupert said, waving him away, clearly uncomfortable dealing with gratitude. “At least try it first and make sure it doesn’t…”

“Kill me?” Garrus suggested lightly.

“Well I sure wouldn’t eat it, but I was gonna say ‘give you the shits’ or something.”

Great, Garrus thought, that coming from the man who not only prepares the meals but fixes the plumbing too. With a parting nod of thanks he headed for the mess table and tried to remember that thirty seconds earlier he’d actually felt like eating.


Garrus rolled his shoulders and neck as he strolled into the lift. A last ditch attempt to relieve the tension knotted there before heading to bed.

For the last hour he’d been caught up on the CIC, his fruitless search for Shepard landing him in lengthy talks with Joker about the good old days and strangely with Yeoman Chambers – or ‘Kelly’ as she preferred - who seemed a little too forthcoming with her very psychoanalytical, though be it, astute views on anyone Garrus dared ask about. It made him slightly nervous to consider what she’d potentially been saying to Shepard about him when he wasn’t around, though he doubted Shepard would be of a mind to enquire. Idle gossiping certainly wasn’t her style.

He’d done his best to ignore the many side long glances and nervous mutterings he still received from Cerberus crew members unable to get used to aliens being on board the Normandy. He knew some of it was down to his historical friendship with Shepard and the ‘integral’ role he’d played in the fight against Saren – or so Shepard called it. Of course some of it was simply down to the fact that he didn’t keep himself confined to his designated space as the other ‘aliens’ did, and Shepard’s self-admitted reliance on him successfully added an extra layer of drama to an already unusual circumstance. How humans loved to speculate the ridiculous.

Raucous laughter was the first thing Garrus heard as he exited the elevator on to the crew deck. To his surprise on rounding the corner he realised the noise stemmed not from the mess hall as he’d expected, which stood strangely empty, but from the med-bay instead.

He ventured over peering discreetly through the med-bay windows to find Shepard with Dr Chakwas. They were sat opposite one another though both so drunk and slumped so far down in their respective chairs that it could hardly be classed as sitting. They took it in turns to find something to toast to before downing their drinks, then one of them would somehow manage the co-ordination necessary to grasp the bottle of what looked like Serrice Ice Brandy off the counter beside them and refill their glasses.

“So perhaps it’s this ship, perhaps it’s Joker, or maybe it’s you Commander,” Chakwas announced dramatically.

Shepard nodded, the action so exaggerated it clearly made her dizzy. She attempted to rest her head in her hand, but her elbow missed the chair arm and she nearly flopped out of the seat altogether.

Garrus couldn’t stifle a laugh at the sight.

“Or maybe…” Chakwas continued, raising her hand as if she’d just had the most amazing epiphany, “just maybe, I’m happily drunk.” She grinned.

“And there’s our toast!” Shepard announced finding her feet and lifting her glass. Chakwas joined her, swaying slightly. “Here’s to being simply, happily, drunk.” They merrily clacked their glasses together and drank the contents. Seconds later Chakwas collapsed in a heap.

It took Shepard a minute to realise her drinking partner was no longer with her but ‘happily’ passed out on the floor. By a minor miracle given her own condition, Garrus watched her heave Chakwas upright again and after a moment of indecision, shuffle her over toward one of the med-pods to sleep it off.

At least she’s where she needs to be in an emergency, Garrus mused, watching as Shepard then staggered toward the med-bay doors, still having no idea he was there to have witnessed anything.

She fell through them as they opened, catching herself against the wall. Grimacing whilst clutching her head to steady the spinning Garrus was sure stumbling had induced.

He couldn’t resist it.

“Good evening,” he said, fighting to keep his face straight as he watched the horror at being caught or seen in such a state register with her. Mortified, she peaked at him through a gap in her fingers before taking a deep cleansing breath and letting her hand fall away.

“G-good evening,” she stammered, somehow losing her balance despite standing still.

“You alright?” he asked, unable to keep the sarcastic mirth from his voice. “Can you find the lift okay?”

The stern pout she afforded him as she began to make her way forward again was priceless. “I’m sure I’ll find it… eventually. What are you doing up anyway?” she asked grumpily.

“Looking for you,” he answered. She paused, guiltily glancing back at him. “It’s nothing that can’t keep till morning though, Shepard. It seems we’ve just crossed paths somewhere without realising.”

“And you missed all the fun,” she commented, biting her lower lip in concern.

Garrus couldn’t help grinning; ignoring the shooting pain that still plagued the muscles on the right side of his face whenever he did. “Not all of it,” he assured.