Chapter 1

- Exhaustion -

by Alialka

The door hissed quietly as it slid behind the journalist, and Shepard sighed, leaning heavily onto the cold glass of the fish tank.

There were days when she really wished she didn't need any help she could get, as dealing with interviews was never her good trait, if her unfortunate meetings with Khalisah al-Jilani were anything to go by, and even the fact that Allers tried to keep things professional didn't make this easier.

Tried being the key word there.

Allers' eyes were always smoldering and heavy, and she was everything that Shepard was not. Flirty and sensuous, with a hip-sway that made half of the crew stop and stare, and a definite knack for any kind of information that would make a good story to sell. But it was all for the greater good, Shepard told herself, as the cold from the glass seeped through the thick material of her hoodie.

It was a good feeling; the chill creeping up her back.

It was a different feeling and it helped her imagine that she didn't feel the heat and flames that surrounded her as Thessia burned, collapsed around her. Her throat tightened, bile rose and she pressed herself even more against the glass.

She has used up all of her energy during the briefing, anger no longer fueling her actions. But her demands were answered, they had a clue, a small lead and she would follow it, no matter how slim the chances. Now, after a quick round around the ship and a few talks here and there, she felt spent, sucked dry and her skin began to burn.

And she still agreed on an interview, because Allers stated that the viewers needed hope, needed her beliefs and strong words and Shepard almost burst out with laughter in reporter's face at that.

She barely had any herself.

Because how could she…? Just how in the world could she believe that everything would be alright, when she allowed the hope for a better tomorrow be snatched from her fingers?

Liara lost her home because of her. She should have known better. She should have been better.

The door hissed again, no knock, no request of entry and her arms tightened around her frame – she didn't even remember moving them at all – listening to the soft bubbling of the air filters and the all too familiar sound of booted talons against her cabin's floor.

The way her fingers dug into her sides was almost painful and maybe it could make her forget about the other kind of pain that ripped her from the inside.

They already talked, his news of his family a small white dot in the sea of misery, but then his eyes clouded and mandibles tightened as he told her of the decisions he made. She cracked just a little in front of him then – in the company of Normandy's guns and the familiar scent of oil – and he only gave his support, through words and touch alike.

Now Garrus stood in front of her, hands on her elbows and Shepard swayed slightly, her head swimming. As usual, his body was much warmer than that of an average human, and the contrast between the cold glass and his warmth made her weak in the knees.

While the fires that devoured Thessia were still etched into her mind, while she still could feel the heat of explosions and the licks of flames, Garrus' body heat was something different.

Completely different, most welcomed and so missed – she would never admit to anyone but herself just how lonely her six months on Earth were – and it made her feel safe. A rare luxury in these hard times and he gave it so openly…

Her hands fell to her sides, felt laden as she willed them to move and rest at the sharp of his hips.

A hum escaped her; she liked his hips. And then , slowly, something uncoiled within her with each of their shared breaths.

Garrus shifted, accommodating her feet between his and he rested his forehead against the top of her messy head. Enfolding her completely, making her breath hitch for too many different reasons.

He took of the chest-plate already and she was trapped between the cold and heat, and somehow it made breathing a little bit easier. Her fingers tightened and he made a sound, soft and alien and it was her undoing.

She pressed her face into the strange material of his clothes, his arms coming around her and holding, hiding her for just a moment. Shepard wanted to say something, anything that would break the silence and the sound of bubbles, but her mind was blank and she found herself too damn tired to try anymore.

She needed this, needed him, now, when she was at the brink of crashing and breaking down.

One talon rubbed against the small of her back, small circles that made her sigh and melt and she made herself comfortable in his embrace.

"Stay," she muttered against his chest, eyes heavy and sore and maybe, if he would, she could wind down for once.

This time he hummed, light and agreeable, as he moved again, and his breath tickled her ear, one mandible brushing against her cheek as he spoke, "Disrupting the crew already, Commander?"

Flames flickered behind her lids, but they were not from the asari homeworld and the corners of her lips arched just a bit. His hold tightened as if Garrus could feel when she smiled and she felt limbless.

"With you, Vakarian?" she said, finally looking up at him and her lips brushed against the hard ridge of his mouth, "Always."