Shepard kept herself busy with work.

For good reason; there was a lot to do. Crew to get familiar with. Dossiers of future recruits to review. Combat missions to plan. If she got tired of all that, she had two years' worth of news to catch up on. Most of it was utter rubbish. She didn't need to know what the top musical, vid and literacy works of the last two years were. Still she hated feeling out of the loop when she ran into the crew making small talk . She paid more attention to the political news, even though most of it made her want to throw her datapad against the wall. Different year, same old quarrels. One way in which not enough had changed.

All of it, even the busy work, beat the thoughts that crawled around in her head during the night cycle, when the ship was quiet except for the hum of the drive core.

When she's first seen the skylight someone had fitted over her bed; she'd marched towards Miranda's office and gave her a piece of her mind. Miranda claimed to know nothing about it, Shepard actually believed her as she was clearly irritated and Shepard had the feeling that Miranda Lawson was a perfectionist who hated not knowing about everything that was going on around her.

EDi had suggested that the viewport could be covered. Shepard hadn't made it a priority yet, though. Improving the ship's armaments and shielding, upgrading the guns and armour and omni-tools and amps, was all a lot more important. It was on the list, the engineers knew about the issue and they would get to it eventually. When they upgraded the armour. Hopefully.

For now, on nights she couldn't sleep, she lay under the opening, looking up at the stars, hazed by the mass effect field surrounding the ship. She looked into the void and breathed carefully, slow and even, counting the length of breaths. She managed her fear like a physical thing she could tame or subdue or squeeze down into nothingness. Sometimes panic rose up in her throat and she remembered: fire, screaming, stars shining through the rip in the hull, scrambling for air while the planet's white surface tilted below. Then her hands clenched in the sheets, sometimes she flung herself out of the bed and curled up on the couch, trying to distract herself with something to read.

Despite everything she was alive, she felt like herself. She could remember details of her childhood that she didn't think she'd ever told anyone: how she felt disappointed that her mother kept having miscarriage after miscarriage. She probed at her memories and if trying to find a loose tooth, but everything seemed to be in its place. That would have to be enough. Shepard was use to acting on her gut. Her gut told her she was herself but all these thoughts caused a need of a bottle of something strong.

So she tried to avoid being alone. She would go down to the lab and ask Mordin questions until he shooed her away, or she'd coax someone into working out with her, or sparing, sometimes even a conversation was better than nothing. She thought the others must notice that she sought company at odd hours but nobody remarked on it.

''Garrus,'' she said, one night, after taking a couple of six-packs into the battery and plopping down with them until he stopped grumbling and put his work aside.

''Yeah?''

''Have I changed?''

He gave her a level look through his visor. ''You look about the same as yesterday.''

Shepard leaned so she could punch him in the arm. ''Arse. No. I mean before... you know.''

Garrus pulled himself away from the wall, his brow plates pulling down into a frown. ''Are you still thinking about what Ashley said?''

''No,'' she said too quickly for it to go unnoticed. ''Not really. I'm just thinking'' she paused with a faked smile on her face. ''Never mind''

''You haven't changed much,'' said Garrus suddenly

She shifted her eyes from the floor and turned towards him. ''Yeah?''

''You're ... You take bigger risks.''

''So Ilos was picnic then?'' she pointed out

He shook his head. ''You take risks more often then,'' he smiled. ''What's with that charge thing you do?''

''I think I spent too much time running around with Wrex'' she smiled as she thought about the times they had fought together

''I guess you a bit more on edge as well, but then...'' He twirled one hand in a loose circle, indicating the ship and colours it bore. ''Cerberus.''

She nodded, acknowledging the truth of it. Cerberus had her exactly where they wanted her and she knew it.

''Could be I just didn't see that before we weren't .. We didn't talk as much'' he added.

Shepard glanced away, a sudden heat rising in her cheeks ''I didn't bother you as much you mean.''

''It's alright'' He finished off his bottle. His fourth, if she wasn't mistaken. ''I don't mind.''

''Except when you're in the middle of some calibrations.''

''Does kind of disrupt my line of thought, Shepard.''

She bumped her shoulder against his. ''Yeah, I know. I appreciate the work Garrus.'' She did feel a little sheepish about pulling him away from what he was doing. She sure as hell didn't have a handle on the math he was working with.

There was a brief silence. Shepard contemplated her bottle. Garrus opened another. After a few minutes he said, ''Besides, it's been two years. You'd have changed in that time no matter what happened. I mean... I suppose I've changed.''

His voice sounded different, almost wistful. She stole a look at him while he was turning the bottle in his hands, idly gazing down at the deck, not at her. She was sitting on the wrong side to see his healing wounds, but she knew they were there. She might have outright died, but he'd come closer than most. His own stubborn will and the grace of Dr. Chakwas had kept him from crossing that hair-thin boundary. It wasn't a thing they talked about. He'd spent two years in places she hadn't gone, faced down things she'd never had to. He didn't talk about those times, either. He kept it all close, letting out a story here and there, but sometimes, when he was quiet, she thought she could see the wear and tear on his face.

Being with Garrus was sometimes the easiest thing in the world, and sometimes made her heart ache.

''Not in ways that count,'' said Shepard

He squinted at her. ''No?''

''Nope. Shitty sense of humour, check; inability to duck, check; unhealthy attachment to your rifle, check...''

Garrus groaned and leaned back against the bulkhead. ''Stop.''

She laughed, but let it go. After a moment, she laid her hand on his wrist. ''You're right. Everybody changes.''

He looked into her eyes, then down at her hand spread out on the cool metal and ceramic that encased him. ''I could stand to hear that more often.''

''Hear what?''

He looked up with a grin. She'd known him long enough now that she had no trouble classifying it as ''sly.''

''Ass,'' she said again smiling.

She worried about him, more than she thought he'd like. Somehow it had taken her death and resurrection, and his near death, to make her realize what she felt for him. She hadn't figured out what to do now other than bury it just like everything else in her life.