A/N: This is in response to the Kaidan Prompt Project in the Kaidan Alenko Appreciation Society in the BSN forums.

The reunion after Horizon and the Collectors defeat of Shepard and Kaidan. The catch; it must be silent NO DIALOG (or text or emails)! The set up or reason there is no talking is Artist or Author choice.

I have been wanting to do a bit of Shenko fluff for a while, I'll admit. This scenario is a follow up to one of my previous fics, Together, Apart. So it totally fit. Hopefully I've kept true to the original...

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She sits, slumped on a stool in the seedy dimness of a bar, neon lights washing unhealthily over her face and darkening her eyes. She'd drink to get drunk, but that doesn't work any more. The momentary alcoholic buzz quickly dissipates as microprocessors and cybernetically enhanced systems work overtime to eliminate the toxins from her bloodstream. She's had cause to be thankful for her enhanced constitution in the past, but not tonight. Not when she chooses to poison herself.

She throws back another drink and grimaces at the taste. To amuse herself she counts the seconds it takes for the ethanol induced shimmer and instability around her to disappear. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand… and it's gone.

She sighs, and signals the bartender for another, ignoring his appraising glance. As she waits for her drink she glances idly around her…

oOo

He sits, depressed, on a dingy seat in a darkened corner of a bar, carefully avoiding the wash of neon lights as he nurses a drink. He's not one to drink to get drunk, normally. He doesn't like the loss of control as the alcohol floods his system and erodes his barriers. Usually he takes his abstinence for granted, but not tonight. Not when he chooses to poison himself.

He throws back the last of his drink and grimaces at the taste. Bored, he counts the seconds it takes for the burn in his throat to dissipate and join the warmth in his belly. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand… and it's gone.

He sighs, and signals the waitress passing by for another drink, ignoring her appraising glance. As he waits he glances idly around the bar…

oOo

Simultaneously, they glance around the room, and each recognises a familiar figure. She recollects the strength of shoulders, now slumped with an unseen weight. He remembers the feel of long, capable fingers, now toying with an empty glass. They fight an almost palpable urge, and, losing, raise eyes. Chocolate eyes widen as emerald eyes are trapped. In the murk and haze of the bar the shock of sudden renewed empathy is evident.

Somehow she's standing and somehow he's moved closer and then she's there, in front of him. He's finally real, and she's finally close. Lost years, wasted years drop away, and there's no one there but themselves.

He opens his mouth to speak, but she shakes her head, puts a finger to his lips. He inhales sharply, the touch reopening familiar paths. For a moment they are frozen. Finally, irrevocably, he enfolds her in his arms as she crushes him to her, separate souls intertwined and inextricable, an island in the crush of the bar.

The barman and the waitress exchange glances and shrug as they pass by. For them, it's just another Friday night.