She must have come off so suave and confident as she swaggered past Garrus, she knew she made him sweat under the piercing gaze of her dark, bedroom eyes. Yet her confidence began to slip out from under her as the elevator doors hushed closed. Kaidan's soft smile flashed in her mind. Her face flushed with guilt and she became suddenly, achingly empty. The elevator's hum trembled through her. She was grateful for a private floor as the doors opened to reveal her to a short, empty hall. Her cheeks felt hot with oncoming tears as the regretful memories flooded back.
Avoiding her reflection in the cold surfaces of her quarters she made her way to her desk. Like countless times before, Kaidan flicked in the holoframe. When Shepard had first been brought on board and checked into her room she flared with indignation at the brazen invasion of her private life as Cerberus flaunted the knowledge of all her dearest secrets. But the holo remained undisturbed, even after his stubborn protests on Horizon she couldn't forsake the kind, sensible man on her desk.
He seemed to glare at her now; his benign smile an accusation of her betrayal. She felt the urge to dash the holoframe from the desk, to smash it to bits, she wanted to hold him again, she wanted to yell and scream at him, to have him understand, to have him tell her it would go back to the way it was before. But she couldn't. So instead, she cried.
Kaidan's voice echoed her worst fears, buried as long as there was a job to be done.
Maybe you're the one who's not thinking straight. You've changed.
It horrified her to think he may be right. What if Cerberus changed me, she thought. What if I can't tell myself what's right or wrong anymore? Have I been so different?
She shook her head and pressed her palms against her aching eyes. She knew what the stakes were and would give her damnedest to hold Cerberus at arm's length. Kaidan should understand that. What had changed in him?
I loved you. Thinking you were dead tore me apart.
It had taken every effort to betray her heartbreak as he managed such comforting words with so much venomous anger. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She did love him, and when she reached for him to help, to keep her going down the right path, to make it through, all he could see was Cerberus. She understood his anger but when she needed his trust he just couldn't make the leap. After having so much together that's what cut the deepest.
You do realize this has me walking into hell too? Garrus crept his way back into her mind, offering her what she so desperately needed. He understood and he was obliged to offer that support to lean on. He had always been there and when, on Omega all those weeks ago, she had walked back into his life he gave not a moment's hesitation to step back where he felt he belonged. And she needed him. She depended on him, she trusted him.
She loved him.
Things can change; things do change. For her to ignore that would be the biggest mistake of her life.
There's nobody in this galaxy I respect more than you. This is about us.
She dragged in a deep breath, lifting her chest and exhaled an aching weight and some semblance of relief tugged a smile on her face. She should have listened to herself before when Garrus had checked with her on her feelings. I don't want closer to home. I want someone I can trust. I want you. It came so easily then, she should have taken comfort in knowing she truly meant it.
Slowly her hand traced the edge of the holoframe as she spared a last gaze. I will always care for you, Kaidan and I will never forget what we had. Delicately, she tilted the frame and laid it to rest face down on the desk.