AN: Minor spoilers for Arrival DLC. If you haven't played it yet, I wouldn't recommend reading on until you have. Somewhat of a sequel to my story "Arrived," but there are only minor references to it so it doesn't matter if you haven't read it.

Monster Inside

The room was dark. There was just the faint light coming from the fish tank in the other room. But she could see well enough.

She just starred at herself in the mirror. Ignored the fresh cuts and bruises. Looked at the dark circles under her eyes. Saw the emptiness in her eyes staring back at her. The darkness in the cabin couldn't match the darkness growing inside her.

Shepard had seen a lot of shit. Done a lot of terrible things. As a kid. In the alliance. Fighting Saren and the Geth. Stopping the Collectors. She mentally added Aratoht to the list.

In the wake of coming back from dealing with Kenson, she'd had enough to deal with. Hackett. The crew. Garrus. All of these things had been welcome distractions as she struggled to ignore the terrible ache in her chest.

But it'd been a week. That was enough time for everyone else to calm down and begin to forget. To acknowledge that the Reapers were in fact closer (though not as close as they could have been), and move on to the next part of the mission.

A week wasn't enough time for Shepard to forget that she'd killed 300,000 batarians like they were nothing.

She'd had to struggle with her personal demons before. The Skyllian Blitz. Virmire. Hell, even killing off the Collectors had pained her. The remains of an entire race that had really died out millennia ago, but she had still pulled the trigger on them. But that guilt had been drowned in the adrenaline of battle and the euphoria of victory. And later, when it would still gnaw at her insides, she could take comfort in the fact that they were just ghosts of the Protheans. Nothing more.

Shepard had been able to put all of that to rest. Everything she'd done was for a reason, a purpose. Done to protect many more. An exchange. But she'd been fighting off attackers in the Blitz. Ashley had been willing to die on Virmire. The Collectors were just pawns who wouldn't stop doing the Reapers' bidding until they were completely wiped out. Every bullet fired, every casualty had had a purpose. Had served the greater good.

Over the years, she'd had to become good at reasoning away these nagging feelings.

She just couldn't do that with Aratoht.

No matter what she did, she couldn't justify it. The darker parts of her had reasons enough. It was destroy the Relay or let the Reapers kill us all. The colonists would have been dead if the Reapers made it through – the first to fall in the ever-nearing war. You tried to contact them before you were knocked out. You didn't have time after. You'd have sacrificed yourself, the Normandy and your crew just to try. And for what? Batarians? Those bastards prey on the weak and in your shoes wouldn't bat an eye at taking out a human colony.

The voice in her head would go on and on if she let it. She'd learned that the first night when she'd tried to go to sleep. When she'd actually been able to sleep, lulled to a dreamless slumber by the empty assurances of her broken conscience.

She hadn't slept since then. Whenever she'd start to nod off, the image of screaming batarian children would snap her awake, sheets drenched in sweat.

In the end, she just couldn't help but feel she could have done more to save them. That's who she was. She found a way where no one else did. Killed the bad guys and saved the civilians. Why the hell couldn't she do it this time too?

It was starting to wear her down. The complete lack of sleep was getting to her. And if that weren't bad enough, the self-isolation wasn't helping her sanity.

The first night she'd felt the nightmares coming was the night she stopped inviting Garrus up. She didn't want him to see her like this. As much as she wanted to draw strength from her lover, her best friend, her most trusted ally, she wouldn't let herself. She didn't want him to see her at her weakest, as she struggled to deal with whatever it was that was growing inside her.

She'd barely left her quarters. Only left to eat and make her rounds, going out of her way to choose times when the rest of the crew would be asleep. Part of her understood that she was just punishing herself. Some sort of penance.

But it wasn't enough.

Cold eyes starred back at her. It might have been a trick of the light, but she could have sworn there was a red glimmer in them.

Who was she to lead humanity and the galaxy to victory over the Reapers? What the hell type of person lets the ends justify the means like that? Why the fuck should she get away with this just because of her record?

Something in her snapped. Her fist came up and before she knew it, the mirror was smashed and her hand was bloody.

Right now she was everything she hated.

But there were ways to take care of that.

With a new sort of clarity, Shepard slowly pulled the shards out of her knuckles, washed off her hand. Found a clean cloth and wrapped it around lazily. She was surprised how steady her hands were. Decisiveness did that, though. Make the decision and follow through. Coming to the decision was the hard part. Now it was just following orders. She was a soldier, after all.

She didn't bother checking the time. Usually she would ask EDI if the halls were clear, but it didn't matter. No one would understand the look in her eyes.

They should, though. She always looked like that before she took out a crime lord, a merc leader, or any other piece of filth. They would just never make the connection. Never see that this time, she was that piece of filth.

Luckily she didn't see anyone on her way to the lower decks. She chose one of the out of the way areas away from the rest of the crew. She didn't want to be interrupted right now, because part of her was afraid they'd stop her and, worse, that she'd let them stop her.

"EDI."

"Yes, Commander?"

"Disable all security cameras to Airlock C. And I don't want you to view the footage, either."

"Shepard, it is against ship protocols-"

"EDI, I am in no mood to be questioned about what I do on my own ship by my own ship. Now are you going to follow my orders or am I going to have to do some re-programming?"

"Understood. Logging you out, Shepard."

If circumstances were different, she'd feel bad about being so rude to EDI. But AI didn't have feelings, no matter how much EDI seemed to be like the rest of the crew. She wouldn't feel guilty for the small role she'd played in this.

And as Shepard stepped into the airlock, she knew that was another cop-out.

Garrus had been feeling a little on edge lately. What did the humans call it? Wound up? He'd been "wound up" ever since Shepard had taken to sleeping alone a couple days ago, dismissing him like he were totally at her beck and call. It did bother him to think of how she could do that to him. Ignore him when it suited her. Like she had before she'd gone on that damn mission to Aratoht. They'd "made up" but had somehow skipped over the part where they talked about it. Just another thing that was pissing him off about this whole thing.

He was stressed and seriously needed to blow off some steam. There must be some greater power out there that had a thing for irony. He'd never needed to blow of this much steam since he'd started "blowing off steam" with Shepard.

The only thing that calmed his down was his frequent trips to the makeshift shooting range they'd set up in the hangar. Calibrating helped, but it required a little more focus than he was able to produce at the moment. It was nothing like feeling the cold metal of his trusted rifle in his taloned hand, squeezing the trigger and watching his target fall. He only wished he had live targets to shoot at. As he scoped the cans on top of the shuttle, he fell into a rhythm that he'd found comfort in since his days with the military.

He lined the cans back up and headed back to his gun. He'd been in here the past two hours. He was tempted to go up to Kasumi's room and try drinking his anxiety away for all the good this was doing him. But part of him hoped Shepard would come to find him. Or at least come for some target practice.

Once or twice he'd considered barging up there and breaking down the door to her cabin. But knowing Shepard, it was probably just better to give her some space. Let her work it out.

Never mind the male stubbornness that wouldn't let him look desperate after admitting to his commanding officer that he loved her.

"Officer Vakarian."

Garrus turned to acknowledge the blue AI that had appeared by the doors and interrupted his thoughts. "Yes, EDI?" He couldn't help but be curious. Of all the times the AI had contacted him (and he could count those on his six fingers), it was usually because he was messing with the guns (i.e. doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing). He'd been in here so often the past few days and she hadn't complained about some sort of protocol he was inadvertently breaking. So why bother him now?

"You asked me to inform you when Commander Shepard left her quarters."

He'd forgotten about that. Honestly, he'd assumed she would ignore his request. EDI was nothing if not understanding of Shepard's desire for privacy. "Oh," he managed, now starting to feel uncomfortable. Do you thank AI for doing you a favor?

The AI either didn't understand or ignored his awkwardness. "Commander Shepard has accessed Airlock C on the starboard side of the ship."

If Garrus didn't know any better, he'd think there was some emotion lacing EDI's words. Concern? Worry? Anxiety? Just his imagination though. "What's she doing in the Airlock?"

"I do not know. The Commander has had me disable all monitoring devices."

Garrus just stood there for a moment, trying to piece together the information he had. He could stand there all day, but he probably would never have figured out her intentions. All he knew was that something in his gut was saying this cannot end well.

"Officer Vakarian, although I cannot advise you to investigate, as it would be in violation of the Commander's orders, I would strongly suggest that you-"

"I'm on it, EDI."

Being spaced hurt. A lot. Shepard could attest to that. Which was why she had chosen it. It seemed fitting that she should suffer like she'd allowed those batarians to suffer. Not as cowardly as a bullet to the brain or an injection. Not as melodramatic as pills and alcohol. Not as messy as slitting her wrists. No. This would at least give her crew a body to mourn while still providing some measure of pain.

Her chest had gone tight in anticipation. The release valve was right there. Just one push of a button and ten to fifteen seconds of utter agony standing between her and salvation through death.

No more Reaper threat. No more guilt. No more struggling to get through to the next day, only to find out it was just as hard as the previous.

It was unlike her to get cold feet. To come to this moment and hesitate. But the button was just so… large. This decision was just so… final.

She didn't hear him approach, didn't sense his presence until he was on the other side of the glass. She was just starring at the button, her hand hovering over it as she tried to will herself to push down.

"Shepard!" he breathed out and it startled her. "Spirits, what are you doing?"

"Garrus!" she cried out meekly, his name getting caught in her throat. She instinctively backed away from the control panel, her back hitting the other side of the airlock.

She didn't know what he was doing there. How he had found out. How much he already knew. But she could see him working it out. Saw the moment he realized just exactly she was doing in the airlock by herself in the middle of the night.

His hands immediately went to open the door and he cursed when he found it was locked. "Let me in, Shepard."

"I… I can't do that Garrus." Her voice wavered and she wanted to hit herself for being so weak. She should just push the damn button now before he stopped her. Should've already pushed it. Goddamnit, now he was going to have to see it happen. That thought was the only thing that kept her from blasting herself into space right then and there.

He slammed his talons against the glass. The fierceness, the possessiveness in his eyes scared her. She'd never seen him - or any turian - that obviously pissed off. "Shepard! Let. Me. IN." Each word followed by another bang. He was too upset to think clearly, too panicked to think that startling or upsetting her might cause her to act rashly. All he could focus on was that he needed to be in there NOW.

I will NOT lose her to ANYONE, least of all to herself, he screamed in his head as he kept banging.

"Stop it," she hissed. She couldn't do this in front of him. This was private, goddamnit. This was between her and the demons raging inside of her. Garrus, the one who would always see the good in her, even after this, had no place here at her death.

Hearing her calmed him down a little, but only enough to stop pounding on the glass. "Are you going to come out of there?"

"I can't do that, Garrus-"

He didn't let her finish. His omni-tool was already up, hacking the lock. It was a gamble, he knew that. Relied entirely on his speed…

One second.

She lunged for the door. Braced against it.

Two seconds.

He managed to unlock it.

Three seconds.

Put his entire weight against the door.

Four seconds.

She flew back against the glass, this time leaving a gossamer thin crack.

Five seconds.

She was up, lunging for the controls.

Six seconds.

Her fingers danced on the edge of the button as he slammed her against the side wall.

Seven seconds.

She cried out, winded, as he secured her against the glass.

The seven longest seconds of his life.

When he was absolutely sure she couldn't move, he let out a growl at the woman he had pinned. He could never get over how small she appeared out of her armor. And as he saw the defeated look spread across her smooth features, he never thought the word was more apt to describe her.

"What the fuck were you doing?"

Her head was reeling. She was pretty sure that last impact had left her with a mild concussion. "What does it look like I was doing?" she snapped. She wasn't mad at him, not really. Even if he had taken away her suicide from her. Her release. Her only means of atonement. How could she be mad when he was only trying to protect her?

It was as bad as he had suspected then. His grip on her tightened reflexively. "Why?"

She could feel the tears starting to form. Why did he have to keep staring at her? Couldn't he see why? Why couldn't he see the monster inside her? The darkness she was trying to kill? To stop before it grew into something terrible?

Shepard didn't trust herself to answer. She knew she didn't have enough control over her voice, not with the tears welling at the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill. So instead she starred at his shoulder, silently willing him to understand.

Honestly, the idea of suicide wasn't so hard for the turian to grasp. In a way, that's what he had been doing on Omega. But the words suicide and Shepard had no business being spoken in the same sentence together.

His first plan was to drag her kicking and screaming (or perhaps he'd knock her out first) back to her quarters. Then he'd watch her night and day like a hawk to make sure this never ever happened. He'd find a way to talk her out of it. He had to.

But thoughts of how stubborn this human woman could be made it clear that wouldn't work. She was also a skilled liar. If she was committed to doing this – and the fact that they were in the bloody airlock of all places indicated that she probably was – she'd find a way. Say the right words, make the right faces. Bide her time until he thought it was all clear. And then she'd be gone again. Forever this time.

Garrus sighed as he came to his decision. There was really no other way. He would not leave her. He would not live in a galaxy without her. Not again. Never again.

So he let her go. Walked over to the door and locked them in.

Shepard could only gap at him. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Even he didn't think it was funny how he was throwing her words back in her face. "If you're going to do this Shepard, I'm doing it with you."

"No," she choked. Oh god NO. The utter panic she felt then was terrible. The idea of losing Garrus, even if she wouldn't be there to feel the loss, was too much for her to wrap her mind around. Garrus was always there. That was something she could take comfort in as she let herself drift to a cold death. He'd keep fighting long after she was gone. He'd make her proud.

Her accomplishments meant nothing to her. Her significance to the Reaper threat was ridiculous – anyone could take her place, of that she was sure. Heroes or hero-wannabes were a dime a dozen. But there was only one Garrus Vakarian. She was willing to sacrifice a lot to keep his heart beating.

She didn't know how or when she ended up on the ground. She couldn't remember him putting his arms around her and holding her as she bawled into his chest. She didn't know how long he'd been whispering in her ear, running his talons through her hair and down her back. She felt like a child, a complete idiot. But at the same time she felt safe and loved.

"Shhh, it's alright Shepard. Everything's going to be okay."

As she hugged him back and wept, for the first time in a week she actually believed that maybe it would.