Title: Acceptable Loss (Part 2 of 3)
Author: skybound2
Characters: FemShep/Garrus (with FemShep/Thane and FemShep/Kaidan)
Word Count: ~8300 this chapter
Rating: M
Summary: In war - soldiers die. But when its someone you love...well, that's an entirely different story altogether.
Spoilers: Through end game.
Author's Note: So I said something about this being only two parts, right? Well...I lied. My revisions revealed to me that a large chunk of what I had originally intended to include in this part, needed to be set off on its own. I'm still working on the edits to that, so my apologies on the delay. Here's hoping that this section doesn't disappoint, and the final part should be up in a few days at most. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to click, read, and/or review. You are all awesome :-)
Part 2
Shepard couldn't get the water hot enough. Redundant safety features were built into the Normandy's systems, and that included making sure the commanding officer didn't scald herself under her shower head. Whether she intended to or not.
Because she couldn't turn the heat up high enough to burn away the ache pulsating throughout her body (both internal and external), she switched it off entirely. Opting instead to twist the cold water on full force. Let the spray turn into an ice-bath, and watched her flesh pebble with goosebumps. The little hairs standing on end along her forearm mesmerized her. The pallor of her flesh under the abusive liquid was intriguing. The rattle of her teeth as her body uselessly attempted to raise her rapidly dropping internal temperature, musical.
Of course it couldn't last. Not because she didn't have the wherewithal to stay in there until she lost consciousness, and her body went into shock, but because of the Normandy's damned redundant safety features, and one overly nosy AI.
"Commander Shepard, I have switched off the water supply in your shower. Ship systems indicated that your basal body temperature had lowered to 35.8°C, bringing you dangerously close to hypothermic levels."
She dropped her head against the cold, metal wall - hands braced on either side; willing her vocal cords to move. "Understood, EDI."
Now that the water had been turned off, the blood started to rush back to the surface of her skin, causing an overload of prickling sensations all across its surface. She was in no hurry to leave the room, so she took her time grabbing for a towel and rubbing her body dry.
She winced when she reached the inner portions of her thighs. A quick examination revealed scrapped up skin and an excessive amount of redness. The source of the damage was not hard to figure out. A vivid flash of Garrus' armored body pressed against hers shot through her head like a bullet; his eyes shut, and mandibles drawn tightly to the side of his face – his cybernetic implant glowing brightly in her memory. "Shit."
As if blocking out the events of the past hour wouldn't have been difficult enough, it would be nearly impossible if she was reminded every time she took a step. There was nothing to do for it now though, as she wasn't about to head to Chakwas or Mordin for an ointment. She'd just have to snag some medi-gel next time she was down to the crew-deck (she'd completely exhausted her supply on the shuttle back from the botched mission) and hope no one asked any questions.
Oh, God, she couldn't handle answering any questions. She grabbed hold of the sink basin, and stared in the mirror. Aside from the tiny cut on her lip, which would heal itself in no time, and the shading beneath her eyes (evidence to the lack of sleep she'd been enduring) there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen.
So why the hell did she feel like she was staring at a stranger?
Three days. Three average, unassuming days. That was all the time that had passed since Thane's death. Three days of breathing air that felt too dense. Three days of avoiding her bed, in favor of staring at it most of the night from the couch. Three days of doing absolutely nothing to pay the man she loved even an ounce of respect after his death, besides having him shoved into storage.
Like any other soldier. As if she hadn't spent countless hours mapping the dips and falls of his skin, learning the subtle variation in color along his scales. As if she hadn't whispered words in his ear that she'd never spoken to another – not like that at least.
Three days, and he was deposited like any other in a generic body bag.
And three days was all it took for her to screw someone else. To attack her best friend. Her best friend who was very likely in love with her (he hadn't said the words, but they hung between them all the same). To practically beg him to sleep with her; ignoring his initial reticence, and plying him until he gave in.
To throw him out when it was done.
The bile that rose up in her throat came swift, and violently, and she was on her knees hugging the toilet before she'd barely had time to blink.
Oh yeah, she was an absolute bastion of humankind. If she was the best they had to offer, she truly felt pity for her entire species.
Eventually, she managed to stand up again, and rinse out her mouth. Slow and deliberate, letting the mint flavor of the toothpaste overtake all the others on her tongue, and at the back of her throat; rinsing it all out with more icy water, enjoying the sharp ache that pierce the sensitized nerves along her gums.
When she was finished, she stood, staring at the door that led back to the main part of her cabin. Enough time had gone by now, that she felt it would be safe to exit into her room, unclothed as she was. Didn't stop the sting of fear that she felt when the door slide open, or for hating herself for feeling so relieved that he had understood, and gotten out of there before she was finished.
How much he had understood, however, well..that was something else entirely. Did he get that the panic she had felt wasn't his doing, but her own? That he hadn't done anything wrong?
She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve the dull ache growing swiftly behind her eyes.
Emotionally and physically drained, she dropped into her desk chair, hissing when her bare legs brushed against the hard fabric. Her eyes were drawn unerringly to the photo that adorned her desk: a picture of her and Thane down at Kasumi's bar, taken just after the Collector's base had been destroyed. One of her arms was looped around his neck, while one of his was curled behind her back and pressed into her hip. Both of them held had colorful concoctions in their free hands, and she was smiling like a loon at the camera. Thane's mouth (that soft, slightly spicy mouth that had drawn her in time, and time again) was lifted in a more reserved grin, but the happiness that they both felt at the time was undeniable.
Her lip quivered and she made a decision, hitting the comm button on her desk. "Joker. Set course for the Citadel. There's someone I need to see."
Joker's response was swift, and empty of any of his typical back-and-forth hilarity. If it it hadn't been obvious before that her crew was on pins and needles around her, it was now. "Sure thing, Commander. ETA: approximately 18.5 hours."
"Thanks, Joker. Shepard out." She allowed herself barely a second of slumped shoulders, letting some of the weight that had been crushing her as late ease. Forward progress was good.
With that hurdle passed, she switched on her personal terminal, and logged into the extranet. There were some customs that she needed to read up on before they arrived. Her conscience twinged a bit: she should have taken the time long before Thane past to learn about these sorts of things, and to figure out his wishes. Why hadn't she ever asked?
Then again, why hadn't he offered?
Guilt rocketed back to the front her mind almost the moment that the thought crossed it. She knew why he hadn't offered. It was because she hadn't asked. She'd been so knee-deep in dealing with the Collector's and making sure everyone survived the unsurvivable, that she had very effectively blocked all thoughts of Kepral's Syndrome from her mind.
And even after he had died, what had she spent her time doing? Ignoring the difficult task of dealing with his...final disposal, that's what. And God, it was awful to think of it that way. But she had no better way to define it. She had no clue what drell preferred – did they engage in burial's? That seemed unlikely given the small amount of land on Kahje. Did they go in for cremations. What? Shepard had absolutely no clue.
Instead, she had spent her time chasing after petty mercs, stolen eezo, and having sex with her best friend on the floor of her cabin.
Damn it, what kind of a person does that? Shepard had no idea anymore.
Perhaps if she focused on this task, focused on learning more about the drell, and the religion that Thane held so close to his heart, she wouldn't be able to dwell on the multitude of ways that she had managed to dishonor Thane's memory, or abused her friendship with Garrus, in the last few hours.
Maybe she'd hate herself a little less that way.
~~~\/~~~
The forward battery wasn't the most cheerful of locations, but Garrus found it soothing nonetheless.
The subtle throb of guns beneath deck, the quiet trill of the machines running through their processes. Even the warmth that the facilities exuded had its calming effects; reminded him of Palaven schools with their dark interior rooms (the better at which to complete drills). It was one of the main reasons Garrus had spent so much time there once he'd joined back up with Shepard.
His stress levels had been through the roof back then – gunships and traitorous bastards could do that to a guy. And between the joy that he got from fixing things (he'd never admit it to her, but he actually loved it when ever she completely wrecked the Mako back on the old Normandy; it gave him such an intense amount of satisfaction to get it up and running every time - for the good of the crew's bones though, he'd made sure not to encourage her) the familiar setting, and all of the meditative qualities he found in running through calibrations - it had been the ideal place to take up as a semi-permanent residence.
Unfortunately, it was doing a piss-poor job right now.
He pounded his fist down, hard, on the console. It made a buzzing sound, and the light flickered as it powered down. "Damn it!" He let his head hang down, and reached out to grab the railing on either side of the console with both hands, taking in deep, metallic tasting breaths.
His brain refused to shut off, denying him any chance to improve his emotional stability. And his hands seemed to be prone to shakes. Especially when his mind would wander into recall mode, and force him to revisit the day in his head.
He was damn grateful that he didn't have a drell's eidetic memory. He couldn't fathom how difficult it must be to be forced into re-watching your past deeds against your will. Garrus didn't think that the upside of seeing happy times whenever you wished couldn't possibly balance that out, of course, that might have been because the rough moments in life always seemed to weigh on him more than the good.
At any other point in time, he might have wondered what that said about him as person. He figured that at the very least, Chambers could have a field day analyzing it all.
Once his blood had cooled (hell, it had basically frozen solid when Shepard flinched from him back in her cabin – and was that really only an hour ago?) he could look at the situation with more objectivity. Which was something that needed to happen, even if the very idea of revisiting the memory was distasteful at the moment.
He refused to lie to himself and pretend as if he'd thought that she had wanted him. He'd known better, even while it was happening. Sure, physically she'd been interested. There was no denying that. She'd responded to his touch in ways that he never would have envisioned. (And he had...envisioned it before. It was impossible to have not, surrounded by her everywhere he went, and with virtually no outlet for release. Or at least, no suitable one.) But even that wasn't really due to him.
He'd engaged in some self-flagellation after he'd first learned of her and Thane, and spent more time than he would admit – even to himself – trolling the extranet for information he assumed he'd never put to use. So while he wasn't entirely in the dark regarding what sex with a human entailed – hell, it had fueled more than a few of those visions – he also was self-aware enough to know that his schoolboy level fumbling was hardly the source of Shepard's reactions upstairs.
While he was more than confident when it came to members of his own species, there were enough differences between turians and humans that he couldn't be entirely sure of what he was doing in her cabin, and he'd had to act mostly based off of her response. And her response, while somewhat vocal and more than just a bit physically gratifying (if he spent too long thinking on that alone, his blood would surely heat to volcanic levels), was not really due to him, or even what he'd been doing to her. No, no it was grief, pure and simple.
And he felt disgusted with himself for not having possessed more self-control.
Hell, his species was known for its discipline the universe over. No other species held that moniker, and for good reason. Turians knew how to fall in line. They were trained for it from practically infancy. It was in his blood, his bones.
But if he had learned anything in the last few years, it was that he was a reaaally awful turian.
He could blame the utter loss of his self-control on so many things. Could blame it on his long-stint of celibacy, unintended though it might have been. Could blame it on the fact that he was worried about her, and wanted her to show any evidence that she wasn't going to get herself killed the next time they were planetside. Could blame it on the fact that he'd spent more time than was healthy watching her and Thane interact out of the corner of his eyes – beating himself up for not having spoken up sooner. Dwelling on the 'what if's' and the 'if only's'.
He could blame it on the fact that she was warm, and soft, and so intensely receptive to the slightest touch. Could blame it on the fact that she had looked so down-right desperate in his arms, or the sound of the word 'please' slipping past her lips.
He could blame it on all of that; but it wouldn't make a damn lick of difference. The fact of the matter was that there was no justification for the lack of self-control. None. In the end it had boiled down to one, undeniable thing.
He'd wanted her. His emotions for her were so strong, and he'd held them in check for so long, that he simply hadn't wanted to any more.
Everything else, well, it was just an excuse.
And those excuses were ridiculously paper-thin. She'd been hurt. Grieving. Vulnerable. And his actions were anything but acceptable, or excusable. If he hadn't cleared out the ship's supply of turian ale weeks before, when Thane had first fallen unconscious, he would have pounded several back by now.
It would have been less destructive than occasionally punching various parts of the forward battery. And at the very least, it would have helped to drown out the guilty thoughts echoing around his skull. Echoing in tandem with the enticingly recent memories of her body wrapped around his. The sound of her breathy cries; the feel of her blunt nails raking down his plates...he was helpless to stop his body's reaction to the thoughts, despite the resounding guilt that they evoked within him.
Without any of the mind-numbing ale, he was left entirely sober, and stuck within these own rotating thoughts, and inevitably, those thoughts would fall back onto what it was that Shepard had wanted. Or, rather, why she had wanted it...had to wonder about her own motivations, for, well...everything.
He'd been around Shepard when she'd lost people before. Or, more specifically when she'd lost Kaidan. True, that relationship had never really gotten off the ground, and he knew that her feelings for Thane were light-years past what she'd felt for the biotic. (Hell, he'd sat talking with her on enough occasions that she had made that abundantly clear, even if the words hadn't specifically been said.) But, it was reasonable to assume that a person's grief would manifest similarly each time, albeit at different levels of intensity.
And she'd never so much as hugged him voluntarily after Kaidan had died. Used him as a pillow once or twice, but that hadn't even been intentional. There had be no physical manifestation of her grief. She'd drawn herself inward back then. (He'd practically had to peel her out of her self-imposed exile before they'd reached Ilos.) And maybe she'd been just a tad more reckless on missions in the weeks that had followed. (Though, she'd never reached suicidal levels.) But she'd never once approached him, or anyone else as far as he was aware, for a physical outlet.
Best he could figure, that was something entirely unique to this situation.
So his brain kept on churning, and he couldn't stop himself from wondering if what had transpired upstairs - her kiss - her pressing him into the couch, and everything that followed; wasn't the direct result of his own confession. That was the only variable that he could see.
How much of what happened upstairs was due to grief, and how much of it was due to pity? Did she somehow feel responsible for his own unrequited emotions? Or was she just utilizing that as an excuse? Had there been any conscious thought regarding any of that on her part, or had she truly just been grief stricken?
In short - did the responsibility for what had transpired rest squarely on his shoulders, or did some of it lay on hers as well?
How awful of a person was he?
The sound of metal sparking against metal as his talons dug into the railing caused an unpleasant ringing noise within his ears.
~~~\/~~~
When they finally docked at the Citadel, nearly a full Normandy day-night cycle after he'd left her cabin, Shepard granted the entire crew a day of shore leave. And though she didn't say a word to any of the squad about where she was going, or why they were there, it was blindingly obvious to Garrus what her intentions were. And he couldn't help but feel relief that she had taken that step.
This was good. Being here, dealing with Thane's death even peripherally, was good.
But when she chose to disembark at the Citadel on her own, he knew that there was no way in hell that he was going to let her.
Garrus was unsurprised that he hadn't seen nor heard from her during the duration of their trip, and was rather grateful, truth be told. His own thoughts were still too muddled to deal with hers as well right then. There were too many unanswered questions lying between them, and none of them was he comfortable dealing with at the moment.
But no matter the level of his discomfort, he wasn't about to let her go off to meet with Kolyat alone. Even if he had to slink in the shadows to do so. If his recollection of the boy from their last meeting was anything to go on, he doubted that this would be a stress-free event, and wanted to be there in case things turned sour.
For Shepard's sake.
He'd waited what he'd thought was a respectable amount of time to start tailing her off of the ship. They'd been to the Citadel often enough that he knew how long it usually took to get through security, and he had planned to grill Bailey on her whereabouts once he'd gotten to that point. But she never gave him the opportunity.
He'd barely made it through the initial portion of security before Shepard called him out, "You make an excellent sniper, Garrus. But you'd be a really awful thief." The smile she gave him was strained. "Might want to hit Kasumi up for some training tips."
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, beneath his fringe, feeling foolish. "How long did you know I was there?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned back on one foot conveying an air of ease that he doubted she really felt (the tired look on her face was hard to hide). "Since right around when you disembarked from the Normandy. Your armor makes this sort of clacking sound when you walk, and you didn't wait nearly long enough to follow after me."
"Oh. Heh, guess I didn't really think this through." He popped his neck, trying to ease some of the tension that had appeared almost simultaneously with her first words. "Look - I know that this isn't going to be the most enjoyable meeting for you, so I thought-"
"Yeah. Okay."
Garrus was taken aback. "Okay?" He hadn't expected it to be quite so easy.
"That's what I said. Rather have you out in the open then pretending to trail me. Come on. Bailey told me that I can find Kolyat down near the shipping warehouse."
The trip to the warehouse was blissfully brief, and conversation free. Shepard tried to keep her eyes facing forward, and her stance relaxed, but Garrus could tell the amount of effort it was taking. When comfortable, Shepard had a tendency to fiddle. Whether it would be with her fingers, or her gun, or the latches of her armor, she was just constantly in motion. This would spill over into conversation, and she would always be rocking on her heels, or adjusting her unruly hair. But when she was tense, she'd stand in that 'at ease' position typical of Alliance soldiers. It conveyed the appearance of relaxation, while still allowing her to remaining on guard.
That was the position she was in the whole time they waited for the transport vehicle; once on board she focused her gaze outside. Garrus was more than thankful, as he still wasn't sure what would be an acceptable discussion to have right then.
Kolyat turned out to be exactly where Bailey had said he would cataloging the contents of a recently confiscated shipment of crates. Garrus lingered behind when Shepard approached the young man, but stayed close enough to see the drell's dark eyes dart behind her, looking for the missing member of their party. Garrus could understand, Shepard traveling without Thane was almost unheard of out on the battlefield, and he knew that she had never once had cause to speak with Kolyat without his father's presence before.
Kolyat blinked at Shepard (her back to Garrus so that he couldn't make out the look upon her face) frozen where he stood with a datapad in his hand. The echo in his voice was somewhat dulled, if that was even possible. "My father?"
Garrus watched as Shepard shook her head, her voice soft. "I'm sorry, Kolyat."
He lowered his head, nodding. Resigned. "Me too."
From his vantage point, Garrus could tell has some of the tension in her shoulders washed away. "There's some things that I'd like to talk with you about. If you got some time?"
Those large eyes blinked once again. "Yeah, sure." He tossed the datapad on the nearest crate. "I'm just about due for a break."
"Good. Let's go get something to eat." Shepard smiled tightly, "Garrus...?"
"Thanks for the offer, Commander, but I think I'll pass." Garrus hadn't been sure exactly what to expect, but Thane's son clearly wasn't the same bitter, and argumentative boy that he had been the last time they had crossed paths. He wasn't about to tear into Shepard when she was still emotionally drained. It wouldn't be fair to the either of them for Garrus to tag along for such a private conversation.
"You sure?" For once, Garrus wasn't able to decipher the look on her face. Was that relief, or resignation?
"I am." He nodded his head and turned to leave, stopping midway through. "Kolyat, your father...he was a good man."
Even if Garrus hadn't meant it, the thankful expression that Shepard gave him would have been reason enough to say it.
~~~\/~~~
The Normandy ended up being docked at the Citadel for nearly a week. Much to the crew's delight. She'd given them an extended shore leave, with the understanding that all systems on the Normandy should be reviewed for any deficiencies and dealt with while they were at the major port as well. Needless to say, the Normandy was practically shining within a day. Her crew certainly was a determined bunch.
Shepard had met with Kolyat for several hours both that first day, and the second, in order to discuss options regarding the sort of arrangements that could be made for Thane. Including te possibility of returning his body to Kahje. Something that from what Shepard had researched, seemed to be ideal.
Thane was – had been – highly spiritual. He spent an immense number of hours in contemplation, or meditation, or in prayer. At first, it had been something of a joke to Shepard. While outwardly she had put forth the understanding face of a Commander, his belief in Gods (of which their were multiple) had made little sense to her.
But as she'd gotten to know him better, as she had learned to not fill every spare second with empty talk, but just to enjoy the silent contemplation of life by his side, she learned to see the beauty in his faith. Even if she couldn't share in it, she had learned to respect it. And she'd learned to appreciate how at the end of a mission, he would pray to Kalihira for those who he killed, and ask for forgiveness for his sins – rather than be annoyed by it, as she had initially been.
Shepard's research into drell funeral rites themselves hadn't been entirely fruitful, however (she was alternatively glad and irritated by Thane's lack of communication on the topic - if he had made his wishes clear, it might have made things infinitely easier now, but would certainly have depressed her greatly then) she had found some information.
Mostly, it seemed that since their Compact with the hanar, the drell preferred to have their bodies delivered back on to the sea, where they could become reincorporated with the planet. That felt...right to her. It had made sense to her that he would be returned to Kahje. She couldn't count the number of times she had heard him utter the phrase, 'return to the sea' when taking a life, after all.
Kolyat was reluctant to do so, however. It seemed to Shepard that the boy was almost afraid of returning to that world, though she didn't say so to him. The way he bristled and fought off recalling memories from that place was answer enough. Their discussion had reached an impasse within hours. Stuck with Shepard wanting to make sure that Thane's body was given the kind of respect the man deserved, and balancing out Kolyat's reluctance. In the end, it was a hanar that Kolyat had befriended in the Wards that gave them an acceptable solution.
Like many of the species with large populations on the Citadel, the hanar had co-opted a ward onto themselves. The area had been retrofitted to include deep basins of water in addition to the more typical housing and market elements, and was stylized to be somewhat reminiscent of the hanar homeworld. Shepard had been surprised to learn that despite the threat of Kepral's Syndrome, several drell had taken up residence in the area as well - albeit on a less permanent basis. And while Kolyat lived in a predominantly human ward on the Citadel, apparently one located in close proximity to where Mouse had taken up residence, he also frequented the hanar ward.
So a compromise was reached. While Thane's body couldn't truly be 'returned to the sea' while on the the Citadel, but at the very least, they could perform the symbolic act of releasing his body into the water, before it would be removed and - for lack of a better term - vaporized; like most of the dead were on board the enclosed structure. It was far from ideal, but Kolyat was comfortable with the scenario, so Shepard forced herself to be as well.
The actual ceremony was rather subdued, and a bit elegant. Of the Normandy crew, there were only a handful in attendance, though the entire squad was there (despite the obvious level of discomfort some members, notably Jack and Grunt, displayed). Shepard suspected that Garrus had a great deal to do with everyone showing up. She hadn't even bothered to pass word around, so caught up in the particular's herself (just how do yo go about inviting people to something like that?), that she couldn't think of any other way that word got out.
Not that she had actually told Garrus either, but the fact that he knew wasn't a terribly big surprise. Just because he had left her to her meetings with Kolyat in private after that first time, didn't mean that he had stopped keeping tabs on her. Normally, that sort of thing would have pissed her off greatly, and have lead to a confrontation where she pulled rank in order to get him to back off, but she couldn't work up the energy to be angry at him for it his time. Not when her own feelings for him felt so distorted.
So the ceremony took place on the fourth day that the Normandy was docked at the Citadel; with one hanar, and two drell overseeing the event – a mish-mash of Thane's own polytheistic beliefs, and some of Kolyat's own preferences (borrowed heavily from the hanar) paying tribute to him more with long silences than with words. A dozen awkward soldiers stood in a half-circle around the pool, with Chakwas, Joker, and Kelly situated nearby.
Shepard thought that it suited Thane perfectly.
She had the Normandy remain at the Citadel for only twelve hours after the ceremony was complete. Just long enough to sort out Thane's few possessions with Kolyat before heading out. The boy had boarded the Normandy with some reluctance, but eventually spent several hours quietly sitting in the same chair that Thane had often occupied in life support. The visage of him there had given Shepard an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu.
That night, she managed to sleep soundly in the bed her and Thane had shared for the first time since he'd lost consciousness weeks before.
Things weren't perfect, but she knew that it was a start.
~~~\/~~~
The doors to the forward battery had never looked so daunting before. They were just doors afterall. Same as all the other doors around the ship, so really, they had no business causing her emotions to be in flux like they were. Shepard had stood staring at them for nearly five minutes, and figured she must look like a fool to any crew member that wandered by, but still, she hadn't been able to will her body any closer.
It had been almost two weeks since Thane's funeral, and progress was swiftly being made by the team in regards to the Collector base data. Shepard doubted it would be much longer before they'd have something solid to go on. It as both exhilarating, and down-right frightening. And it made her feel alive in only the way that an upcoming battle could.
In the meantime, she was attempting to deal with the massive back-log of requests from all over known space. Considering the monumental failure that the botched eezo recovering mission had been, she'd taken things a bit more slowly this time. (Much to the annoyance of Grunt and Jack, who both seemed to be itching at the bit for a good fight.)
So far, they'd delivered a package to Liara on Illium (who continued to promise results 'soon, Shepard, soon' without actually delivering) and responded to a request by Mordin's old assistant Daniel on Omega; who was in need of the doctor's assistance to replicate a series of antibodies for a mutated version of the batarian flu. Nothing dangerous, but it was forcing them to stay in one place for a while.
While most of the crew was eager for downtime at Afterlife (its possible that she might have spoiled them with all of the shore leave she'd given the at the Citadel), some wanted nothing to do with the lawless station. One of the latter was standing behind the doors of the forward battery, and was the source of Shepard's trepidation.
They needed to talk. Every day that past without the two of them speaking directly to one another, was like a knife being twisted in a wound for Shepard. He'd been there, all throughout the proceedings for Thane's funeral, silent, steady. His oft-spoken words of 'there when you need me' reverberating between them, despite the lack of conversation.
And she was thankful, oh-so-thankful for him. Glad that he was there, like he'd always been. Despite everything that had happened between them.
But the silence hadn't abated after the funeral. She wasn't sure if she was really expecting it too or not; wasn't sure if she was expecting everything to go back to normal once it was all said and done, but a part of her – a tiny, very loud part – had hoped that it would. For no other reason than because she was scared; and she absolutely detested that feeling.
She took a deep breath, suck it up, Shepard, and opened the doors.
~~~\/~~~
Garrus paused at his station, but didn't turn. A second passed and his hand moved swiftly over the console, continuing whatever he'd been working on. "Need something, Commander?"
"You got a minute?"
"Can it wait for a bit? I'm in the middle of some calibrations."
Shepard snorted, the conversation so familiar as to be ludicrous. Rather than interrupting, she moved to one of the crates in the corner, and got as comfortable as she could while watching him at work. He hesitated at first, nearly looking at her, but then he seemed to accept her presence and continued.
It was calming, watching him there. This was a situation that had repeated itself often enough before. There seemed to be no end to the amount of calibrations and adjustments that he had to do on the weapons systems. All his efforts had obviously paid off, considering how well the Thanix Cannon had performed in battle. And yet here he still was - working tirelessly on the systems he'd installed – day-after-day. Giving them constant attention to make sure they wouldn't cave under pressure.
Not entirely unlike they way he looked after her.
She'd done him a disservice, that day in her bedroom. But she was certain he didn't really get why. It had taken her time to figure the whole thing out herself, and she still wasn't entirely sure. But she couldn't delay it much longer. Time was going to start running out, and the two of them needed to be comfortable around each other. She'd had a chance to evaluate her life recently. Kind of been forced to, and she was starting to figure out what was and was not acceptable. And the distance between her and her best friend was not. Not if she wanted to keep a firm grasp of her sanity throughout the rest of this damn war.
What she had been able to figure out, based on the sidelong looks she could catch, the tension that his body held whenever they were in proximity to one another was what he might have thought had been the reason for her behavior that day; and she could only come up with one thing.
"It wasn't pity."
Garrus' hand froze over the controls. "What?"
"I said: 'it wasn't pity'. I know that you think that it was, but I'm telling you that it wasn't."
He heaved out a breath, and started up on his task once more. "Look, Shepard, you don't have to-"
She stood from the crate and took a step forward, "Yes I do, Garrus. I miss my friend." His head shot up from the console, shock evident in every part of his face. "I've-I've got gaps, huge holes where people use to be. Every day the edges smooth out, but the space is still there. And I can't handle having one shaped like you too."
His uninjured mandible fluttered. "I'm not going anywhere, Shepard."
"But you already have."
He shook his head. Confusion evident in the way he held his jaw, and the wide look to his eyes. "What do you mean?"
She turned her body so that she was facing the doors, and leaned her back against the railing. "We've barely spoken, except when absolutely necessary, since we returned from the Citadel. I'm not saying that I don't get why. This is awkward. But I miss you, Garrus. And if talking about this is going to help set things back to the way they were, then that's what we have to do."
He blinked at her, with those alien eyes that revealed so much more emotion than she ever would have presumed. He pulled his mandibles in tightly to the sides of his face, and clacked a couple more buttons on the console - shutting it down. "Fine." He leaned one hip against the console, angling his body towards hers. It looked stiff, and awkward, but she could tell that he was trying for relaxed. It was more reassuring than she'd have thought it would be.
Maybe that was why his next statement caught her off guard, despite the fact that it shouldn't have. "What was it then?"
"Huh?"
"You said it wasn't pity. So what was it?"
~~~\/~~~
Garrus watched her whole body tense at his question. Obviously, she'd not expected him to chose that route. Probably figured he'd want to skip the awkward parts and get right to the...what? He really had no idea. Everything was awkward right now.
She sucked a breath through her teeth, "Okay. That's fair."
Garrus looked away, he was curious - how could he not be? He'd been dwelling on this exact topic practically non-stop, since the whole thing had happened. Alternately chastising himself for his actions, and questioning her reasoning – because she was Shepard. And he had a hard time wrapping his brain around the concept that she might do something without a reason. But he was also concerned that he'd permanently destroyed their friendship, and if giving her an out from a conversation that she quite clearly wasn't as prepared for as she'd thought would save what little friendship they had left, then so be it. "Like I said, Shepard. We really don't have to do this."
She didn't speak for long enough that Garrus was starting to get antsy. He shifted his weight in place and took a moment to observe her.
She looked...better. The dark circles that had been beneath her eyes for the past month had mostly cleared; and while she wasn't exactly relaxed, she didn't seem as withdrawn as before. Hell, she had come down here voluntarily, so if that didn't say worlds about the improvement of her mental state, he didn't know what would. He decided to tell her so at precisely the same time as she decided to answer.
"You look - " "I wanted - "
They both laughed, the tension easing a bit, if not broken.
Shepard gestured to Garrus, "You go first." It was an obvious stall tactic, but he figured she'd earned it.
"You're looking better." There was a little smile on her face, and it warmed him just like it always had.
"Thanks. Hadn't realized I was looking so bad before."
Garrus cocked his head at her. "Now that's just a lie, and we both know it. You'd barely slept most nights."
The look on her face was skeptical. "Been spying, Garrus? Here I thought that was more EDI and Joker's thing."
The blue orb at the AI's console light the room in its soft glow. "Commander Shepard, I do not spy. I merely monitor all ship-wide areas for evidence of any developing situations or complications."
Garrus bit back a laugh.
"Way to prove my point, EDI."
"Commander, I believe that you have misunderstood-"
"That'll be all, EDI."
"Understood, Commander." If it was possible for the AI to be affronted, then that was what Garrus thought she was at the moment.
Garrus couldn't help but find her exasperated tone, and the way that she rolled her eyes at the AI, all a bit charming. It was good to see some of the color returning to her personality. Nothing was the same without it. "Not spying, Commander. Observing. I can usually tell when you haven't been sleeping."
Shepard turned in a mirror of his position. The interface on Garrus' visor told him that she was 1.75 meters away. He flicked the thing off, not wanting the influx of info at the moment. "Mmm. Like you can tell when I'm in need of chocolate."
"Or coffee."
"Well, that's a given. I can always use more coffee."
"I mean it though, Shepard. You seem like you've been sleeping better."
She nodded, her eyes focused on something not him for a minute. "Its a work in progress."
Her distraction gave him another chance to study her; to take in all of the little nuances that made her unique. The set of her shoulders, and how she rolled them back. The line where her jaw met her neck, and how the muscle there twitched somewhat every few seconds. Stared at the hairs that lined the lids over her eyes – causing his thoughts to flash back to the only time he'd ever seen them wet with tears, and the sense of dread that had unearthed in him. His voice had lowered an octave by the time he managed to make himself speak. "I get that."
She shifted her gaze back to him, her own voice calm, steady. "I know." She paused, gaze locked on his. "So, now I think its my turn, right?"
He shrugged, hoping that his eagerness to hear what she had to say wouldn't be too apparent. Though, if she could read him half as well as she claimed..."If you want. No pressure."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"
"You've lost me, Shepard. I thought you were answering the questions now. Why what?"
She pressed off the railing with her hip, and paced towards the door. "Why 'no pressure'? I know what you've been thinking, Garrus. Just like you can tell when I haven't been sleeping, I can tell when you think something is your fault." She stuck a finger out at him, in a gesture he'd seen her give countless mercs who pissed her off in the past, "And, none of this is your fault. You deserve an explanation, and I just don't get why you don't think you do."
Garrus steeled himself, nothing ever gets done by sitting on your ass after all. If they were going to clear the air, then things needed to be said. "Oh, I don't know. How about the fact that I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable?"
"You didn't-"
"I did. There's no getting around that."
She shook her head, and looked back at him once more. "You didn't. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I'm a big girl, Garrus. And I knew what I was doing." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to interject, and he acquiesced. "I can't pretend like I had thought it all the way through to the end, 'cause obviously I didn't. You were there, you know that. But, at that exact point in time, it was what I wanted."
"So it wasn't pity, because it could have been anyone." Garrus felt more than a little sick at the idea.
"What? No! No. Absolutely not. Good God, if anyone else had shown up at my door they wouldn't have made it across the landing, Garrus. Hell, there's a better than average possibility that I would have slugged them for trying."
"You would have shot them? That's a little extreme, Commander. Even for you."
"Huh? No - punch. Slug means punch. In this case at least. But I guess if they pissed me off enough..." She smiled, a little half-smile, and Garrus wished that his stomach didn't practically flip at the sight. He was no better off now than he was before, he didn't think he ever would be. But at least they were talking.
"It had to be you, Garrus. I was messed up." She huffed out a breath. "I'm still a little messed up. I've never - Thane was important to me. Still is. And its been a bit of a roller-coaster for me emotionally." The analogy went over Garrus' head, but he got the general gist of it. "So no, it wasn't the best call - I can see that now. But not for the reasons you think."
He swallowed, not entirely sure where she was going with this, and not daring to hope for any particular outcome.
"You think you took advantage of me? Well, I thought the same." Again he felt the need to interject, and again, she wouldn't let him. "I knew how you felt, Garrus. Even if you hadn't just told me, I - I think I already knew. And damn it, Garrus! There hasn't ever been anyone that I've felt so comfortable around before you."
His shock must have registered on his face, because she laughed. "Honestly, you can't be all that surprised. You've had my six from the beginning. Yanked me out of more tough spots than I can count, even if I'm trying to beat you senseless for doing so." She shot him a self-deprecating glare, and he was once again glad that she was so easy to read. "And no matter what, you're loyalty has never wavered. Never been in doubt. You've always been there for me.
"So I needed something then, something that I wouldn't have wanted from anyone else, and I took it – because it was you. I took advantage because I knew you wouldn't say no. And for that I'm sorry."
Sorry? He couldn't fathom her apologizing for anything, not considering how long he had spent brewing on the fact that she hadn't been - couldn't have been - the one at fault. For anything. He swallowed and let his eyes drop away from her, trying to process everything. Which is likely why he didn't notice her crossing the distance and laying a hand across the top of his until it actually happened. Abruptly, he tore his eyes back to her face. Surprised by how close she was.
"But, I'm not sorry that it happened. Sorry about the way that it happened, yes. Sorry about the when? Yeah - timing could have been better. And I'm sorry for how I reacted afterward. That was pretty shitty. But in the long-run? I'm glad that it happened."
Garrus felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. The implications - well, they were making his head spin. His throat felt dry, and his tongue heavy like metal. But he didn't want to assume..."What are you saying here, Shepard?"
She glanced down and sighed, before meeting his eyes once more. Her hand overly warm where it rested on his. He couldn't recall a time when she had ever done such a thing before. Just touched him like that. "I'm not saying that I'm ready for...its, its too soon."
He felt like an idiot for having let any kind of hope take root inside. Her next words stunned him though, and that hope came burning back hot like the Palaven sun.
"But, I am open to the possibility. Is that..." She licked her lips, and his entire attention was drawn to her mouth for that microscopic second. "Is that alright?"
All of the information she'd just dropped on him was spinning circles around his head. She trusted him - still! Despite what had happened. She was willing - no - she wanted to consider pursuing something with him, but, it was still too soon. She wasn't ready. Not yet. Not yet...
And Spirits be damned, but he couldn't douse the desire that caught flame. Couldn't drown out the flickering idea that maybe, just maybe, there could be a future between them. Something more than what they'd always had in the past, and beyond anything he'd ever thought could be possible. There was the worry, of course, that she was still grieving - hell, he knew that she was. She'd said as much herself. But this didn't sound like something built on grief. No. This sounded like quintessential Shepard. As if it was something that she had spent a great deal of time thinking on, strategizing around...and yet she still seemed so unsure. Tentative, even. What if...
Damn it all, he was tired of thinking.
He nodded, and turned his hand over under her's, so they were resting palm to palm. "Yeah. That's more than alright."
~The last part to come soon! Promise!
