"Commander Shepard! Welcome back!" Donnelly seemed surprised to see his commanding officer down in the engine room again so soon. Well, she couldn't blame him for that. She was a little surprised to be here herself.

"Donnelly, Daniels," she greeted, forcing a pleasant note into her voice. "Soup's up," she continued conversationally, thumbing over her shoulder. "Why don't you two take a break and grab something to eat?"

The Engineers exchanged glances. "Normally Ken and I go on shifts, so the engines are never left unattended," she explained. Ah. She felt a bit embarrassed for not having thought of that. She also briefly thought of the local rumor that the two were an item, and how unlikely it was if they never got any free time together. Although, hell. It had worked for her and -

"The engines will take care of themselves for a while," she responded, maybe a little too hastily. "Besides, I'll be down here taking a look at some reports. Just an hour," she warned, lest she appear too encouraging. She had a reputation to uphold after all.

"Thanks, Commander!" Donnelly replied gratefully, and though Daniels seemed more insightful she, too, wasn't about to give up an unscheduled hour of free time.

"Thank you, Commander," she echoed. Then the two disappeared. Belatedly, Shepard realized she had no idea what she was going to do with the silence she had won herself.

But she couldn't deny needing it. Reading an email like that in front of the entire bridge crew had been – well, less than stealthy. She was sure Chambers had been staring at her, probably doing her psycho-analysis bullshit while her CO tried to keep herself composed. The nosy little gossip probably read her email – that was probably how the Illusive Man always seemed to know all her business. Kelly always seemed intrigued when announcing personal emails and bored when they were assignments from Cerberus. She probably should have been paying better attention this time. Maybe she would have noticed the look of pity in the younger woman's eyes (and consequently knocked her the fuck out for it. At least in her head.)

Instead she had to be content in showing absolutely nothing as she read Kaidan's note. When she was done she calmly set a course to Haestrom – better to let real problems be the focus and let her own slide to the background – then left to 'get a nap.' In the five steps it took to get from the navigation console to the elevator door she ticked through the list of places she could be alone in the ship, in much the same fashion she selected cover locations during battle: Her quarters – no, everyone knew where to find her there. Garrus had set up shop in the main battery and would spy her discomposure immediately if she went there. The Observation decks would have been ideal but they were both occupied, and anyway the idea of the black, quiet emptiness of space staring back at her made her shudder. She wanted to drown out her thoughts, not amplify them. The loudest room in the ship, then, would have to be it. She could clear out the inhabitants easily – a perk of being captain.

So here she was.

Now what?

She hadn't been in this position often, overwhelmed. It probably had something to do with her childhood. When you're on the streets from a young age you learn to take everything in stride, or become mincemeat for some tougher competitor. Doesn't matter how bad things get, you learn to cope.

That's why she'd been able to get this far without allowing her personal problems affect her, she figured. She had been coasting along, dealing with those things she knew how to deal with – mercs, assassins, thugs, almost-certain-death – and leaving those things that stumped her behind. The confrontation with Kaidan she could deal with – she'd been in lots of fights, after all. She faced his wrath, she lost, and she took it on the chin. Tough luck. On to the next fight.

A heartfelt email was the kind of blow she didn't know how to dodge. It was emotions and feelings and sincerity when she had been prepared for more yelling or arguing. She decided to drown it out instead.

She wandered slowly down the grating towards the arc reactor, enjoying the sound of each hollow footfall. The machinery hummed loudly. The electricity arced overhead. Energy buzzed across her skin and through her head. If she closed her eyes, she could even feel the waves from the reactor jiggling her teeth. She stood at the bottom of the room and stared up as the lights danced around the walls, trying not to feel, trying to think without feeling. That's all she needed.

Goddamn, if only he hadn't mentioned Ilos. She tried to think straight and it was interrupted inevitably by rapidfire memories – his hands, her skin, his voice in her ear, his breath mixed with hers. The memories were incomplete, but they were more than enough to make her wince.

They had never really been alike. She was an any-means-necessary kind of fighter, and he knew the Alliance code of conduct forward and backward. He worried about regulations, and she would have taken him to bed the first time she laid eyes on him. The fact that he'd even come to her before Ilos had amused her, and she had teased him incessantly afterwards. "Wanna come to my quarters, or you gonna make me wait for shore leave?" Most of the time, he turned her down – and she loved every minute of it.

And there were other memories, too. More painful ones. Aside from Joker, he was the last person she had seen alive in this world, before she died. She had ordered him to save himself, and he had told her no. With her last breaths, she had been at once glad she had been able to make him obey, and sorry that she hadn't taken the time to say goodbye.

Waking up two years later hurt her, but she couldn't change it. She could only deal with it. She had other things to manage, and just knowing he had made it out alive himself had been enough for her to get through those things. His outright denial of her on Horizon had hurt worse, but she couldn't change that, either. Part of her even agreed with him, or at the very least understood him. She couldn't even blame him for the way he felt. She could only accept it – like she accepted the loss of two years time, accepted that she now had to fight the Collectors, and accepted that no one would help her but Cerberus. She was getting good at accepting shit and moving on.

Which is why she was surprised to find his email hit her the way it did. Except that, deep down somewhere, she honestly wasn't. If Kaidan had accepted her offer and joined her in this mission, she would have jumped at the chance to be with him again. She'd have let the crew think what they wanted, and enjoyed every moment she wasn't pretending to be untouchable – when she was being touched by him. But he hadn't. He had abandoned her. And though she knew she had abandoned him first and it was hard for him... Even though he had every right to be suspicious of Cerberus... Even though it was just him to trust the Alliance over anyone (and she loved that about him)... Even though she forgave him everything...

She couldn't keep her feelings from changing because of it. It would always come down to this. They were too different people. She didn't want him to give up everything he stood for to be with her, and would hate herself for asking. But she still wished that being with her was everything he stood for. She didn't want him to change, but she never wanted to feel this way ever again.

She didn't know how long she stood there alternating between thinking, feeling, and remembering, before she finally gave up. She was trying to talk herself into wearing an emotion that no longer fit her, because it had once felt so good to have on. That didn't stop it from being two sizes too small today, just like that didn't stop it from hurting. It was like taking her love off life support. She knew it was gone, but that didn't make it any easier to let go.

The thoughts got too heavy for her, and she sighed, turning her back to the control console and sliding down to the floor. She closed her eyes and let her head rest back against the metal, propping her arms on top of her knees in front of her. The metal conveyed the hum and buzz of the room perfectly and she let herself be lost to it. It was like floating weightlessly in the ocean with your ears beneath the water. It helped her go numb.

She let it consume her, how long she didn't know. Finally a niggling awareness crept into her ocean, a physical feeling that made her more conscious of her surroundings. She slowly opened her eyes and was not surprised to find a pair so dark they were almost black staring back at her. She blinked at him.

"The Engineers return," he said softly. It occurred to her, quite belatedly, that she liked Thane's voice - even though it was otherworldly and alien. It was perfectly calm, like the smooth glass top of an undisturbed pool. He offered a hand to help her up and she accepted. Wordlessly, he turned to lead the way to the elevator.

The ride up was silent. The car coasted to a stop at the crew deck and he stepped off, posture as unerringly straight as ever. "Thanks," she said simply, without further explanation. She was glad that he had never asked for one.

He stopped and turned around, briefly inspecting her. Then he inclined his head softly in a bow and left.