Chapter 3: A Russian Ballet

When Anya Shepard felt lost in the world, she turned to ballet.

Despite being raised by a serious space-faring military woman, her mother brought up young Anya like she could relocate them to her home country at any moment. Oksana Shepard wasn't too sentimental, but she was sentimental about that.

Anya always assumed that losing a husband will do that; bind you to nostalgic traditions.

So, sure, as a child, she had several matryoshkas and Oksana tried her best at borshch or pirozhkis during the holidays. Not because they were exactly holiday food, but her mother always said they reminded her of home.

Funny enough, Oksana never took enough leave to take Anya to Russia herself. Their relationship was... complicated, but Shepard still relied on it.

And between the fact her mother was also radio silent on a top secret mission and she was starting to feel the pressure and stress of finding Saren, she needed something to unwind. Soft sounds of classic Tchaikovsky rippling through her body helped.

Having the training room all to herself at such an early hour, with no one to look at her and think anything, really helped melt away the world. She could take a moment to breathe with her hands on the makeshift barre she always hid on her ships, stretching her legs and keeping her toe extensions straight, not her aim.

The world was nicer in these softer, precise movements. At least for a little while. She knew it didn't fix everything that was broken, but dancing did remind her that there was beauty in exercise and training and her life, not just brutality.

After seeing Liara's face the past few days post-Noveria, she couldn't help but spend a few hours with her last night, giving her the comfort she needed. They talked and played card games. Anya hoped that it helped, enough at least. But now, she needed serenity and peace. Because she couldn't keep helping people if she didn't get her brain together. Some days lately it felt like she was unraveling.

Anya Shepard was the Commander of this vessel and, despite all the mess she'd caused the last few days, flirtations with turians didn't change that. She needed to be in top shape for anything, including caring for her crewmates; her friends.

But just as she finished brushing up on her pirouette turns, the door opened and in came the face she didn't want to see. Blue eyes, tall shoulders, and all. Before he could even really look at her, the shock already radiating through his face, she shouted, "Out!"

Dear god, if there was anything she didn't want her subordinates seeing, it was her in a soft ballet skirt and a leotard. Grabbing her hoodie and sweats, she covered her suddenly annoyingly dainty outfit, hid her barre back behind some weights, and walked outside. Her arms were crossed and she was trying to keep her face from going red. She still wasn't quite sure if she was fuming or embarrassed.

The second the training room door was shut and it was only her and Garrus in the hallway, she frowned at the words flashing on the wall next to it. "Garrus, it says reserved for Shepard. Why would you just walk in--"

"I just wanted to talk to you." Garrus couldn't even look at her, keeping his eyes glued to the ground like she was a bloodlusting varren ready to bite. "I didn't realize you'd be doing any... intimate human rituals in there--"

Somehow, with that one clueless sentence, all her redness faded away and Anya tumbled into laughter. "Oh my god. No- Garrus, I was doing ballet. I was dancing."

"No offense, Shepard, but I've seen you dance. It isn't that."

"Stupid club dancing and ballet are different. Humans have many different ways to move to music."

Garrus peered at her like she just said something wild. Well, probably to a militaristic species several types of dancing probably was pretty wild. "Are you just making something up to not make this weird?"

"Have I ever been that great at elaborate lies?" Anya chuckled, and then glanced at the training reservation. Still a half hour left. To hell with it, might as well prove her point.

Grabbing his hand, Shepard opened the training room door back up. "It'll be easier if I just show you."

"I'm not sure--"

"Shut up, it's not some sort of sex ritual. Why would you even think that?"

That's when the door shut behind him and her best friend looked so very trapped, his eyes getting shifty at her question. Garrus coughed and acted like a cornered prey animal. "I, uh... I mean, you weren't wearing much clothing, and your legs kept... You know what, I don't understand human dancing, clearly, so don't ask me what the hell I thought."

While Anya could spend all day crossing her arms, smirking at his adorable awkwardness, the double time beating that her heart was doing needed to cut it out. They decided on just friends, right? This was something that could've easily happened before Noveria with no weird, sexual connotation to it.

Unzipping her hoodie and taking slower breaths to hopefully chill her heart the fuck out, Anya refocused. "Fine, I'll let it pass. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to educate you on human dancing."

"I know you said it's not sexual, but you're taking your clothes off and I feel confused."

Anya wanted to toss her sidearm at his forehead. Instead, she gestured for him to sit on the stack of training mats across from her. "Less fabric and weight means smoother motions. Stop turning my soothing hobby into a night at Chora's Den." Garrus shut up then, and rightfully so. If he spent one single second more making her feel like a stripper she was going to kill him.

Either of embarrassment or rage, she wasn't sure. Apparently that was a confusing set of emotions for her.

Once she was down to her ballet garb again, she put her feet in fifth position and gave him a pointed look. "Okay, we're starting with ballet. Ballet is based on precise and formal positioning, steps, and moves. That's what my mother trained me in when I was little. I'll give a tiny demonstration." Anya did a chasse twirl, a stylized kick, and a classic fifth position changement (switching her feet midair).

Garrus looked perplexed and a little impressed, but mostly because Anya was pretty sure he had no clue what he was looking at. Trying to stifle some giggles, she went back to her original spot. "There's also tap-" she did some flaps and a kick ball-change, "but it's normally done with shoes that have metal on them so it makes a sound. There's also dances from different cultures, like my Russian ancestors were known for this, called the prisyadka:" Anya started doing the goofy, stereotypical low to the ground, Russian squat kick. When she was done, her sides were hurting, how much she was laughing. Garrus was staring at her like she morphed into a completely different alien species. "There are a lot of other dances, but I just wanted to give you some examples."

When she sat down next to him, he was frowning, his world seemingly turned upside down. Which was fair. She guessed if she didn't know dancing her whole life she'd be pretty baffled, too. After a long minute of waiting for him to speak, Garrus just said, "Humans are... weird. So do you just stand in front of each other and do that? Or is it meant to be a more... private thing?"

Anya found herself shrugging. "For me, I use ballet to relax. But for most people it's to perform. Some people find dancing very entertaining. My favorite when I was younger, though, was dancing with other people."

"That sounds even more absurd than anything I'd seen before." Anya raised an eyebrow at him and Garrus grumbled at her, knowing she was dissecting his statement. "I know people dance together at bars, but I meant what you just showed me."

"Well, what I just showed you can have partnered dancing, but I think it's a little too high concept for you. Let's try something else."

This time when she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the center mat, Garrus clenched up further. "I don't know if I'm exactly prepared for your kind of dancing. No sexy suit."

"Next time you call my ballet wear a "sex suit" I'm going to punch you straight through your visor. And no, this is a very simple dance. But it's different, and as punishment for interrupting my ballet practice without knocking, you have to do it."

Garrus groaned, finally in the center of the room, standing tall in front of her. She tried not to focus on his shoulders. What was it with his shoulders? It was either because she looked there when she was avoiding eye contact or they made her feel--

Anya preferred not to finish that thought.

With discomfort writhing down his plates, Garrus asked, "Commander's orders?"

"Of course."

He shook his head. "I don't know why I asked. They always are." Scratching the back of his neck, he looked her up and down. Anya decided she was going to interpret that as him acknowledging that her clothes were just for dancing. Definitely that. The out of his element turian asked,"So what next?"

"It's called a waltz. To start, you take my hand, and you put the other one right above my lower back. Then I put my hand on your... shoulder." Ignoring her own stuttering on the famed, not to be named body part of his, Anya instead focused on Garrus. His looks of bewilderment were becoming a sort of drug, and she loved every new one. But he let her place his hands properly and then she stepped a little closer to him, just so they could be a comfortable distance for flexible movement.

That's what she kept telling herself, anyway.

They spent some time directing his feet, and the more Garrus stepped on her toes, the more he loosened up and seemed to be enjoying himself. Vakarian always looked tense these days, and not just because of their Noveria encounter. Saren's plots were weighing down on everyone.

Anya didn't want to acknowledge how her chest felt, all warm and knotted and unkempt all at once, seeing him laugh and smile. She was just his best friend, helping him remember that under all these galaxy-changing missions they were still people.

It was nice to see him as he was, a serious turian with a talent for sarcasm, but who could be a real goof when you caught him off guard.

Just as he was finally starting to get the steps, and her toes were feeling a little less sore, she was remembering his horrified face when he came in. And then she realized she completely glossed over something he said. Slowing down their twirling, she asked, "I just remembered: what were you going to ask me when you unceremoniously barged in here?"

While Garrus was smirking at his feet, happy to be finally figuring it out, the second she stopped talking his face panned up to hers and he wasn't very happy anymore. He even dropped her hand and just stood there. Guess their dancing was over.

Anya's own smile fell away and Garrus went stiff again, too quickly. "Right. I was going to warn you that Kaiden and Liara are planning on confronting you about their feelings. Neither of them seem to think you don't like them, even though you avoid Liara's affections and that night... well, Kaiden didn't seem to think that night meant anything."

Everything pleasant about the training room shattered. Between the concept of two of her officers jumping her for love confessions and the phrase "that night didn't mean anything,'' everything stabbed right through her chest and her lungs and her heart. She felt like a taxidermied butterfly, for fuck's sake. That night didn't mean nothing; like hell it didn't. For her it changed everything. Even if she couldn't do anything about it.

Looking away from those bright blue eyes, she stepped backwards. She shouldn't be dancing with him either, should she? She was just making it worse. "Thanks for the warning, Vakarian. I- I should take care of that."

"I didn't mean to ruin your dancing."

Anya shook her head as hard as she could, because for some dumb reason her tear ducts felt so heavy right now. And of all goddamn things, she did not need that. She'd already been too much of a squishy idiot in front of him. "Don't worry about it. I enjoyed it while it lasted." Pulling on her overclothes again, Anya added, "If you could, keep the ballet to yourself? It's not really something I share with people."

Garrus looked so distant, and she could've sworn it seemed like he didn't want to be. But that didn't make sense, did it? He didn't want to be the third party vying for her affections. He made that clear.

Funny thing was, he was the only one with an actual shot at winning them.

Before she left the room, Garrus started talking again. She used to enjoy everything he said; the past few days, she wasn't sure anymore. His eyes soft and bright, his head cocked in that friendly way that just felt so inviting, he said, "Thanks for sharing it with me."

Anya didn't mean to sound so bitter when she said, "I always accidentally end up sharing everything with you, don't I?"

He didn't respond to that. Shepard was okay with it. She didn't really think any answer would change the fact that it was true and, unlike before Noveria, it didn't seem like either of them were all that comfortable with it anymore.

But the possible crumbling nature of their friendship didn't matter, and neither did the two clueless, hopeless romantics ready to ambush her. She didn't do ballet today for them or Garrus, anyway. She did it for herself, to ready her body and mind for the battle coming. They were a few hero stops away from Virmire, and she needed to be prepared to do anything to stop Saren.

Anya was all amped up, ready to tell the two people pacing by her room that she didn't see them like that. That these emotions needed to take a backseat to the mission at hand. That their kind, friendly faces that she did love didn't matter to her the way they wanted.

But she couldn't handle it. Instead, at the last moment, she veered to engineering, where Tali would happily hide her until they got tired of waiting.

She did not need anymore heartbroken, lovelorn soldiers on her mission. They could wait until Saren was done. Everything and everyone had to. Taking down Saren was all that had to matter.