The bottle in Shepard's hand made a noticeable clink as it hit down between her thighs onto the table. Her throat stung as she swallowed the rye, burning the way she'd hoped for on its way down. She licked her lips, staring at the bulkhead opposite her, unable to stop listening to the unsettling quiet that now permeated the Normandy. Her vision swung aside to the med-bay before closing her eyes.

She felt selfish for how much more weight the mission had gained in her mind - what was her crew compared to all the colonists that had been taken? She felt just as selfish for the half-drained flask in her hands. The rye had warmed her as it trickled down, now a flame in her belly. It subdued the darkening rage, disorientating it.

Joker's blame-laden words rang in her mind, stoking the anguish she compressed down inside. When she'd gone to see him on the bridge, he'd blown up at her. He'd apologized in the next breath, but it didn't erase the damage done. He'd kicked when she was down. Not that he had known she was.

Shepard shook her head, raising the bottle again to take a slow sip of the rye. She held it in her mouth, eyes unfocused even as she looked towards the med-bay again, thinking of the brandy she'd shared with Dr. Chakwas. And of the ale the engineering crew had broken out right where she sat, shortly before Shepard had cleaned house at Skyllian Five.

She stood up off the table, jaw clenched tight again. They were on the long trip to the Sea of Storms, hoping to disable Heretic Station. There was speculation that disabling the 'rogue' geth might help weaken the Collector or Reaper campaign. It had to be taken out. After, they would be heading through the Omega 4 relay, and if they didn't return...

"Commander?"

Shepard turned around, her free hand smoothing over her face to brush back the hair from her face, her bun come partially loose.

"Garrus. Sorry. I didn't see you."

The turian waved a hand, dismissing the apology, hesitating before he said, "Primary and secondary systems are fine. The ship is unscathed, really. And with EDI integrated now..." He sighed out, hand dropping.

Nodding, Shepard crossed her arms, the flask tucked in under her bicep. She licked her lips, "Thank you. I'd still like the systems monitored, with the virus that went through."

"Well, Tali's in engineering, and Miranda and Jacob are keeping an eye on the command deck, as you instructed." Garrus shifted his weight, "I'm not sure where the others could help with ship duties. Mordin's busy in the lab..."

Swallowing dryly, Shepard gave a nod before inhaling sharply, no emotion in her voice, "Tali's coming with me onto the station. I'll have a roster of who can do what before we get there. I'd appreciate it if you looked after things while I'm gone. Though, I suppose it's getting late..."

"Of course, Commander."

Shepard uncrossed her arms, hand relaxing down to rest the flask on the table. Her temples hadn't stopped throbbing since Tali's frantic communication back on Aequitas. She hadn't rested since their return, and she'd been starved for sleep then. But command was her autopilot. It was a safe-zone under fire. Her gaze swept into the kitchen, scattered with pots and pans from the middle of a meal.

"Are you alright?"

Shepard glanced back to Garrus, nothing given in her expression. Releasing the proprietary grip on the flask, she rested her hands down on her hips.
"I'm fine, Garrus. They aren't lost."

Garrus shifted his weight, brow heavy, concern unhidden from her. He unconsciously mimicked her stance, three-fingered hands upon his armoured hips.

"You have a hard time convincing me you're fine when I can smell the liquor on your breath." He kept his eyes on her. "It isn't like you."

Shepard's expression lightened, purposely, even as she looked down, watching her fingers trace around the mouth of the flask on the table.

"Just trying to make things easier."

"You know we're all here for you, right?"

The Commander's head rolled to look back up to Garrus, the moment of weakness fled from her features. There was darkness about her eyes, though. "Course. I'm here for - well. Wasn't for the crew, but..."

The silence hung between them before Garrus interjected, "There was no way you could have known."

"I know."

"No one blames you. And we're going after them."

Don't they. Shepard's eyes strayed aside, biting her tongue. She was Commander Shepard; Elysium war hero; the first human Spectre; Saviour of the Citadel; defeater of Saren and the geth. The expectations stacked ad nauseum. And her crew had been kidnapped from her own ship. Garrus' eyes were still on her as she finally spoke.

"Get some rest, mm? You've been going non-stop since we got back from Aequitas."

"So have you."

"Ahh, I'm used to it." She looked at the turian, smirking. "I have a few more things to take care of though. I'll find you before we reach the station."

Shepard casually tugged the flask along with her as she turned and strode out before Garrus could respond. She turned left down the hall, away from the elevator.

Standing in the dim light, Garrus was at a loss. Fatigue was seeping over the edge of his second wind, but he still had a few tasks he wanted to finish before trying to rest. He'd lost track of the time.

Turning towards the battery, he went to collect a datapad, perusing it as he catalogued the duties to complete, pushing personal thoughts to the back. Garrus walked back through the quiet, heading towards the elevator. His footsteps sounded off the metal floor as he followed where Shepard had gone.

The doors down the passage were all closed. Garrus sighed, letting it go, and turning about, the elevator opened to reveal Thane standing inside. The drell inclined his head as he straightened his posture and stepped out. Garrus raised a hand.

"Just the person I was wanting to see."

"Indeed?" Thane's brow lifted as he clasped his hands together behind his back.

Garrus' fringe bristled, disquiet at the unreadable front of the drell. His mandibles flexed as he nodded, almost crossing his arms in defence. Thane kept his gaze, expression unchanged. Garrus sighed with fatigue, the pre-thought lecture evaporating.

"Look. Just... go find Shepard?" He looked down and met Thane's stare.

"Is she unwell?" The drell unclasped his hands, rigidity fled from his posture.

Garrus glanced down the hall towards the observation deck and crew quarters, chewing over his thoughts.

"No. Er - well." The turian rocked back on his feet, adjusting his posture. Shepard hadn't ever said anything to him, but the talk amongst the crew had been enough. It was hard to keep secrets on a ship. "I'm not the man she needs right now."

Thane stiffened slightly, but looked down where Garrus' eyes had directed. There was an odd moment of silence, before he quietly spoke, "Thank you, Garrus. I'll find her."

Garrus nodded awkwardly, fanning the data pad in his hands before skirting aside Thane and escaping into the elevator. Left alone, Thane stepped silently down the hall towards the crew quarters.

The doors parted before Shepard, revealing the quiet disorganization of the crew quarters. She quickly strode in, and a soft 'shh' left her closeted away in silence.

More then one of the beds was unmade, the standard, matching sheets crumpled on one mattress, and tripped off the side of another. There was the blackened scorch of weapon damage by the door, and on the reinforced window at the back of the room. A locker at the end of a tidy, turned-down bed was open, showing the intimate contents inside. The subdued hum of the mass effect core was the only noise apart from her breathing, overridden by the sound of liquid sloshing as she took a final drink from her flask, willing herself to cap it off.

The rye heated her throat, keeping it from constricting with the pain of emotion that left her sensitized to the tips. She felt raw with loss, an emptiness that harkened back to her childhood. Shepard always prided herself on knowing her crews, wanting friendship as much as fealty from those who served under her.

Shepard stepped closer to the locker, seeing a small furl of paper secured within. A very simplistic, inaccurate drawing of the Citadel was on it. It was Rolston's locker. She'd heard the man speak of his family glowingly on more the one occasion, admiring his resolve to stick with the mission despite such intimate duties elsewhere. She clenched her jaw, thinking of the little girl that might never see her father again. A chill ran through her.

Pulling her eyes away, Shepard tightened the cap on the flask, throwing it aside as she heard Joker's voice in her thoughts again. It clattered under a bunk. He'd been here. Seen them dragged off by the Collectors. Heard their screams. Her reaction had been flawless and instinctual, intuitively knowing he would have suffered and that he was lashing out from stress.

But, she'd died saving him.

The thought offered by her subconscious exacerbated the gnawing inside. Ignoring an overturned chair, Shepard leant forward onto the table at the back of the room, her foot catching a cup on the ground. It rolled and clunked into the bulkhead, the sound of its movement dying away as she choked out a breath. She closed her eyes. The drink was going to her head, a flush of dizziness through her.

"Ahh fuck."

Shepard pushed up, hand coming over her mouth to wipe away the obscenity, the other hugging high around her abdomen. She kept her eyes closed, another surge of guilt joining the closed well of emotion held under pressure. The room was cold and dark, absent of life. It never escaped her.

She wanted to hit the table and kick the other chair over. A brief shimmer of manipulated dark energy illuminated her. Shepard thought of Jack when she felt like throwing a tantrum, remembering how the woman screamed in frustration on Purgatory when she saw the Cerberus logo on the Normandy. Biotics wild, renting metal apart and exerting her will on the world around her. She knew the anger and rage. She was much better at controlling it.

Crossing her arms, Shepard looked aside again, seeing the haste of the situation in each detail in the room. She'd joined Rolston and Patel in here before for morning coffee. The crew were good people. Good soldiers wanting to be part of something greater - to do what they could when other powers that be wouldn't listen. They'd joined Cerberus on that principle. The Illusive Man did well stacking the crew with people she'd inspire. If there had been any xenophobes they had learned fast to keep their mouth shut.

Her throat tightened and Shepard ran her hands into her hair, loosening the bun that secured her dark russet tresses. They fell down about her shoulders, and she slipped the tie over her wrist, massaging her fingers over her scalp as she ran her hands into her hair. She was clenching her teeth again, stemming the emotions the liquor was freeing.

Whether she believed they'd make it through the relay wasn't of consequence. Neither was if she thought they'd save the crew. Or defeat the Collectors. Or even survive. If her team believed it - if they believed that she was confident in them and their abilities - that was what mattered.

She'd kept face at the debriefing, meeting with all everyone left to go over what had happened to the crew. She'd delegated the work and stayed strong, hoping picking up the slack would distract them from the reality of things. They were a mish-mash of individuals and Shepard was proud at how cohesively they all worked. It gave her hope when there truly was so little.

This wasn't like Saren and Soverign. Even then, she'd had the Alliance fleet and innumerable warships fighting for the same cause. Her numbers were cut down, and the fate of humanity was now in the handful of people on this ship. How many more would die? Even if it was worth it...

Shepard clasped her hands together at the back of her head, pulling out of her thoughts, focusing on the small room around her. She hadn't come here to fall into the same old routine of reflection. She wanted to feel the emptiness and intimacy of loss. Mordin had said something once about making a connection to make the fight personal and gain perspective. She needed this suffering to make her stronger - to pull out of its grief destroying her.

But God, did it hurt. Shepard sighed out, the sound wavering. Her fingers dragged down the sides of her neck. The crew deserved better.

The quiet blip of the door opening behind Shepard seemed magnified, and the lack of audible footsteps told her who it was. She didn't need to turn and see.

Thane walked into the crew quarters at a careful pace, his eyes trained on the woman standing inside. Her hair was undone, something he'd only seen once or twice in the privacy of her quarters. The russet tresses had a permanent wave to them from where the elastic secured them every day. It softened her, feminized her.

Turning aside to look back, Shepard's gaze pulled up to Thane's. Her face was framed by the hair, fitting into the angelic metaphor that had become her namesake even more. There was no mask on her features, her eyes heavy and lips in a grim line. He took the last few steps to her, and as she raised a hand, pulled her into his arms.

Her hair still smelled like the mines from Aequitas, a metallic tinge that conflicted with the natural scent of her body, sharp against the sweetness of the liquor on her lips. They were going on forty hours now, and Shepard pressed her cheek against his, skin warm as she embraced him. As much need as there was in the way her hands pulled him, she drew back almost immediately. Her jaw hardened.

"You're doing alright?" He'd come from the lab. Mordin had flawlessly taken over the daily treatments Chakwas had been monitoring to help deal with the symptoms of his illness.

"Yes. I'm more concerned about you, siha."

Shepard's body tensed, and she rolled her head aside, turning to look to the back of the room again. The crush of emotion was more difficult with Thane there. He was not someone she could block out anymore. Even if she did, he would see through it. She blinked rapidly, unable to meet his gaze.

"They deserved better than this." Shepard put her hands on her hips.

"Yes. But do you think you'd have affected the situation were you here?" Thane reached to take one of her hands in his, pressing it between his palms.

Shepard closed her eyes, lines of fatigue under them. She drew a deep breath. "I don't know."

"If you and the Normandy were taken, there would be no one to save them."

Sighing, Shepard pulled her hand away and turned towards one of the bunks. "I know that, Thane." She crossed her arms, back to him. "That doesn't make it any better."

Thane's hands dropped down, watching the way her shoulders tensed in, his gut knotting at the timbre of her voice. He was a recluse. And even if he knew few saw all of her, Shepard invested in each of her crew.

Shepard ran her hands up over her face, shuddering, the stress in her frame like an iceberg, only the tip of it revealed in her movement.

"Some days I feel like it's my job to help people die." She stepped away even as Thane moved closer, body tensed and rigid. She sat down on the bunk, face lit by the faint glow coming in the window.

"We've all made a choice to be here. You inspire others to want to be more then themselves. To be part of your greatness."

"Just stop, okay?" Shepard hunched forward into her hands, hair obscuring her features. She could hear Kelly's light laughter in the back of her mind, and Hawthorne gripe about Gardner's cooking before the rations had improved. She pushed her hair back over her ears, sitting up again.

"I know all of those things, Thane." She put a hand down on the bed she sat on, her head dully throbbing. Her voice was raw and untempered. "I should have seen it with the IFF after what happened on the Collector's ship. These people had families." Her head snapped to him, eyes glistening, "You have family. Yes, it's the cause to fight for it all, but there are people out there who'll miss all of them. Who will question why I didn't do more."

A touch over the babe's brow, and Kolyat quiets. Her smile fades at my empty words. "But I need you here..." she whispers. The rain outside falls harder, hitting the windows and concealing my reply. But I say it again. "I love you."

A shadow hung over Thane's eyes as he stood there, caught by his memory as much as the vulnerability in Shepard. He had to breath deep at the acute constriction in his chest, Irikah's pained eyes silhouetted in his vision; the anxiety present in Shepard's. The scent of Yeoman Chamber's perfume was in the air, mingled with sterile undertones.

Shepard's eyes swept upward, blinking rapidly as she felt the bed weigh down behind her.
"I shouldn't have drank anything."

Thane reached to gather her close without a word, his lips into her hair. She rested her forehead on his shoulder. His jacket creaked as he moved, his hips abutted to hers.

The throb in Shepard's head ebbed away some as Thane's breath warmed her crown. His fingers rose up the curve of her neck, combing and catching her hair. Her breath clipped, a shudder through her body that made Thane pull her closer, his arms encircling her.

He closed his eyes, unable to ignore the subtleties in her changed breathing as she choked a quiet cry. He would never forget the sound, the way it crushed his gut, or how her body curled into him. It was all she allowed to escape, but it was enough. His fingers worked down the back of her neck again.

"I have you." Shepard's words muffled against him.

"You have others too." The words came quick on his tongue, even as her body pressed into him, urging him back. It felt awkward, lying on another's bed. The fruity sharpness of Kelly's perfume grew stronger.

"Not like you."

Thane's chin tucked down, back resting on the headboard. Her legs hung off the side of the bed, cheek lower on his chest. His suit felt impersonal. Dragging his fingers over her cheek, Thane swept the stray hair from Shepard's face, her eyes turned aside. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue and drink. He could hear her breath, a ragged edge to the exhalations, even as they were slowing.

"I'm so glad you're here." Shepard whispered, her fingers tracing up his inner forearm. She could feel the movement of his breaths. "Your arm's mine, right?"

"Yes, siha."

The weight of her body sunk into him more at the inflection in his name for her. Thane drew his fingers over her scalp, spreading out the airy locks on his chest, and she gave a soft sigh. Her eyes were closed now, the moments unable to be gauged as they passed, the room dark. There would be no interruptions. Thane still ran his hands over her head and neck, watching her and listening to the deepening sounds of her breath.

In the lengthening quiet, it dawned on him that she'd fallen asleep. The stress lines had fled her features, leaving a purity behind that he couldn't take his eyes from. Freed from the yoke of command, it left innocence and tranquillity in its wake.

Since arriving on the Normandy, Thane had revived from his battle sleep, sand-leaden limbs filled with life. The monochromatic view had warmed into brilliant hues once more, and each emotion she'd tugged free was another paintbrush on the scenery. She had wandered into the garden of his memories. He wished she'd never leave.

Thane's eyes stayed on Shepard's sleeping face, caught by his need for her closeness. Nothing more than a carefree child when he had made his first kill. Not yet a woman when he became a father. A human, an alien, an unknown that still unravelled. She was so much more, his indefatigable curiosity a lust of the mind that had permeated everything.

A sigh like a first breath after breaking the water's surface. Her reddened lips parted, dilated pupils stolen away by dark lashes. Back arced, her bosom lifted, pressing to, speaking without words.

Fingers coiled into Shepard's hair, Thane blinked lengthily and let his breath seep from him. He lingered in the memory, the sudden ache in his loins feeling improper. The way her skin tasted was palpable, the sound of her breathing so different from its relaxed pace against his chest. It was another facet of her prismatic existence, letting him see the light that shone through, the rainbow it spilt over her path.

But it was only so long that he had to bask in her light. His lungs resisted the breath he drew, like they were taking ballast. Thane opened his eyes again, even though fatigue leadened his limbs. It was a selfish want to see her. As long as he saw her, he could escape the sinking chill in his stomach.