The start of the hot water was the mind's cue to bow out. Lately, it felt the only time Shepard was ever able to relax was here, leaning against the heated tiles, hot spray sliding down her skin and soothing tense muscles. It was one of the only times she let go, let her mind leave her and simply exist without outside problems, without worry, without concern.

She had a lot of those.

Maybe too many of those…

Her crew counted on her, counted on her being sharp, being ready, being prepared…she couldn't afford to be lax. She couldn't afford to take it easy. She was always thinking, always checking the reports, the status of the ship, the status of the crew…there was little rest and little idle time.

…Not to mention she hated idle time. Being idle gave room for thought of all that she'd lost, all that could yet be lost. And she didn't want to think about that, didn't want to voice or think her concerns. Letting them infiltrate her mind would only bring on weakness, bring on vulnerability…and she couldn't afford that.

She was an image, an idol, a representation of strength for her crew and those counting on her to get the job done. She couldn't allow herself to break, to cry.

She wouldn't cry.

Wouldn't.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the shower wall, mind gone for the moment, simply trying to enjoy the only time she ever got to relax, trying to forget about everything for a moment, forget about the job, the reapers…everything.

If she was lucky her mind would allow her to and she'd doze, semi-conscious in the shower stall…She looked forward to it when it happened, barely able to sleep in her own bed because of dreams that taunted and teased her. Any sleep was better than none…even if was just seconds of time.

Turning the knob to shut off the spray, she wearily reached out to snag a towel and wrap it around her waist. Stiffly, she made her way into her bedroom, leafing through her garments to pick out the ones suitable, feeling sore muscles protesting as she slipped into clean clothes.

Ignoring them, she quickly scanned through her email, blue eyes flicking over the screens she pulled up and put away, judging their importance with a practiced eye. She sent a reply back to Anderson, updating him on their progress, and signed out, sitting in the semi-dark for a moment in silence, brooding.

Her mind wandered to her crew, her teammates, picturing their faces and trying to decide who to take with her on their next mission, trying not to picture losing any of them. She couldn't take that, couldn't live with that…

Her door hissed open, startling her out of her reverie, and she turned to see a familiar shadow resting against the doorframe.

"Garrus…"

His head tilted slightly in answer, but he lingered in the doorway as if unsure he were truly welcome in her quarters.

She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, and he noticed…he always noticed. He came to her then, reaching for her, pulling her into his arms. It was only here that he ever showed true affection, only here that she allowed herself to be held, consoled, comforted.

He meant a lot to her, kept her sane, watched her back…and seeing him almost die in front of her was something she never wanted to be witness to again. He'd always meant much to her…and after two years of being dead, well…she hadn't expected to see him again. Holding him felt like a privilege…she'd never dreamed it would happen, never dreamed he'd agree to finding a way to "blow off steam", as he'd put it.

There had always been something there, something she'd always wanted to explore between them…but hadn't. Neither of them had. And it surprised her that Garrus was interested, wanted to try.

His fingers slipped beneath her mane of auburn hair, gently massaging the tight muscles in her neck, his face brushing the top of her head in a silent touch of affection.

Truthfully, the blowing off steam hadn't happened yet. They were uncharacteristically shy around one another, letting down barriers only away from public eye, two generally stoic individuals easing up only around each other.

"How are you feeling…?" She asked, fingers gently running over the healing scars on his face. It hadn't happened that long ago…and she could still see him lying on the cold floor with his blue blood pooling out around him.

"Better…you know I'm ready and able for whenever you need me."

"I know…" she whispered along his neck, fingers deftly undoing pieces of his armor as he walked them toward her bed. She liked touching him, loved it, really, and didn't hide it from him. He'd been pleasantly surprised when he'd found out, thinking their differences would put her off…but in fact it fascinated her, intrigued her.

He was beautiful, attractive, sensual…and warm. Always warm.

She loved that about him.

He gently sat her on the bed, stepping away briefly to shed the rest of his body armor and boots himself, leaving him in a thin blue shirt and black pants. His emotions were masked at the moment, eyes reading her face, the corners creased very slightly in concern. He was always very perceptive, knew when she was at the breaking point.

His fingers reached out to push back a damp auburn strand away from her face, gently caressing the side of her cheek in the process.

"You holding up okay…?" He asked, voice low and naturally rough. She smiled half-heartedly again, about to shrug all the problems off and laugh about them, when he silenced her with sharp look.

"Don't."

She glanced away, swallowing the words, the bitter laughter, the mask she wore to hide the vulnerabilities.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Shepard…" His voice was softer this time, aching, and she glanced back at him, mournful, open. She touched his arm and he came, slipping his sinewy frame into bed, fitting his larger body next to hers and tucking himself around her protectively, holding her close.

"Sorry…"

His fingers began to absently work the tension from her shoulders, the heat from his body enveloping her, chasing the chill from her bones. She grunted softly as he massaged, feeling the tightness ease. He shifted, hand sliding beneath her to flip her over onto her stomach so he could better access her abused body.

"Mmm…no need to apologize."

She inhaled roughly as his deft fingers found a particularly nasty knot in the muscles of her back, and he grunted in sympathy but kept going, forgetting nothing, leaving no spot untouched. He was always so thorough, so concerned over her well being, and he barely had to be asked.

She dozed briefly, lulled by his presence and the soothing feel of his fingers sliding over easing muscle. This was another of those moments…those rare moments where she found she could actually sleep. It wasn't usual for him to stay the night in her quarters. Generally he'd stay for a couple hours and then be forced to leave, either due to their arrival at their next mission, crew duties, or to better protect their beginning relationship…if it could be called that.

He would never show outright affection outside this room. He was formal, distant…but sometimes, when she needed it, he'd very subtly let her know he was there for her.

He chuckled softly in her ear, rousing her from her drowsy state, and she rolled over into him, catching him off guard as she snuggled into his warm chest, feeling sated and at ease. It amazed him still that she was so accepting.

Sleepily, she finally managed a reply to his question from before.

"Better now that you're here…" It was little more than a softly spoken murmur, but he caught it anyway and smiled.