Chapter Ten: You Just Know
Garrus loved nighttime on the ship. A peaceful break from the bustle that the waking hours always seemed to bring, with the soft hum of the Normandy's engines and quiet snippets of conversation between the crew members on third shift. Heather had assured them some light duty for the next few days, gathering intel and scanning planets for whatever resources they could gather for the inevitable final push against the Reapers.
It seemed as if a hundred different factions had coerced the Commander into running their errands. It had been hard for her to turn them down. Every lead would secure them more troops, better weapons, or supplies they would need for the Crucible. Every tiny piece would fit into that puzzle somehow. She would see to it.
He was so distracted by his thoughts that Garrus almost missed the hulking form of James Vega dozing in a chair near the med bay. The soldier's arms were folded across his chest, head down and eyes closed. Turians couldn't exactly tiptoe like humans, but Garrus tried his best to be quiet while his friend slept. When Garrus flicked the light switch in the kitchen, he heard the chair shift.
"Thought you went to bed hours ago, Jimmy," he said quietly, voice carrying across the empty room.
"Couldn't sleep." Garrus doubted it was the whole truth. The weariness was evident, from James' posture to the catch in his throat when he spoke. He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands. How many nights had Garrus spent in that same position? How many had Heather, for that matter? Countless.
"Room too empty?" he suggested, reaching into the refrigerator for the dextro-fruit that he had made sure to pick up before leaving the Citadel. When he saw James nod, Garrus knew that it was more than just a passing fancy for the CO's sister.
"Chokwas won't let me in the med bay until morning. Some stupid shit about me keeping Kat awake when she needs to sleep. Like she thinks we've been going at it like fucking rabbits or something the past few weeks."
"Rabbits?"
"Animals back on Earth. They breed fast."
"Ah. Gotcha." He doubted that the doctor seriously thought that James and Kat had been intimate. Until that morning, there had been no outward signs that their relationship was anything beyond good friends and roommates. And if it was more...well, Garrus was pretty sure that Heather would've weaseled it out of EDI in the span of a heartbeat. But it was reassurance James wanted, and that was something Garrus could provide. "For what it's worth, the doc doesn't ever let anyone stay overnight in the med bay with patients. Kat just needs to rest and get her blood count to a level Chokwas is comfortable with. I"m sure she'll be released sometime tomorrow morning."
He saw James' shoulders relax and his mouth turn up into a relieved smile. Hoping his friend was satisfied, Garrus dimmed the kitchen light and made his way back to the elevator.
"Hey, Scars?" he heard after making it past the tables. Turning, he saw that James was standing, looking through the window into the dark med bay where Kat was sleeping. "When did you know? With the Commander?"
Garrus paused, understanding with perfect clarity what James was asking, and his heart skipped at the memory. "Omega," he replied quietly, the words flowing with ease. "After Cerberus pieced her back together. She was sent to recruit me for her new team, but I was bogged down by mercs. Took a rocket to the side of my head. Should've died. Anyone else probably would have. But she was there, holding me, talking to me, crying, begging me not to die. Giving me something to live for, even though she didn't realize it at the time. But when I first saw her running across the bridge to my position, it was like seeing a ghost. Heather had been dead for two years, but there she was, lined up in the cross-hairs of my rifle, picking off mercs. And that's..." Garrus sighed, his mandibles twitching happily. "That's when I knew."
The first thing she noticed when she woke was the pain. The past thirty-six hours had been a drug-induced blur, and Kat winced as the dull throb in her side pulsed with each breath she took. Tears stung the back of her eyes. She didn't want to open them and find herself alone in the med-bay again. But whatever had been propping her up from behind while she slept – in her own bed! - pressed just a tiny bit closer and an arm curled itself around her waist protectively. Without thinking, she tucked her arm under his and threaded their fingers together. She was rewarded with an affectionate squeeze to her hand.
"Doc left some pills for you," James rumbled. His breath was a whisper against her hair and she relaxed into him as much as she could.
"Are they going to knock me out again?"
"Probably."
"Half dose. I'd like to remember falling asleep with you the next time I wake up."
He chuckled, reluctantly peeling himself away from her to get the meds. Cool air filled the gaps where his body had been, and Kat shivered involuntarily. She finally managed to open her eyes, and noticed that the only light in the room came from the small lamp on the dresser. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, scooting around to face the mountain of muscle that sat on the edge of the bed next to her.
"Breakfast is on in a couple of hours if you want to stay up," he suggested, handing her a single pill and a sports bottle. Kat shook her head before swallowing the medicine. In protest, her stomach growled, bringing a grin to James' face. When he took her drink, he replaced it with a ration bar.
"So what's my official diagnosis?" she managed to ask between bites.
"Severe laceration. And a bunch of other medical junk that basically means nothing vital, but it will take about a week for the muscle to fully repair itself."
"Could've been worse if you hadn't been there to help me," she said, lowering her lashes. Kat's last coherent memory was of James carrying her to the med bay, and her most recent one was of waking up in his arms. It was the closest thing to real intimacy since the morning of his birthday, and she flushed at the thought of what might greet her on a day they were both whole and healthy.
"I did what I could," he confessed, eyes dropping to look at his hands. "Should've told the Council to piss off and taken you straight to Chokwas." Guilt washed over his face, and she reached out to cup his cheek in her hand.
"Damage was already done, James. Getting me to her faster wouldn't have changed that."
"But the blood. God, Kat, you were starting to bleed out. I've..." he struggled for words, his shoulders heaving as he drew a deep breath. "After what happened that morning..."
Kat couldn't say anything. She knew exactly what he meant, taking the risk to breach that last barrier between friends and lovers only to be flung into battle less than an hour later. If it had been James bleeding on the elevator floor, she'd have been scared to death. She wanted to say something funny, but Kat still hurt too much to risk laughing. Instead, she inched her way towards him, closing the gap that had formed when James had gotten up.
He didn't need any further incentive. When he kissed her, it wasn't the tentative press of his lips against hers. It was a day and a half of fear, eight days of confusion, three weeks of frustration, pouring into her. Gentle, yes, but there was an urgency behind it, as if he were daring fate to intervene again.
Without warning, the pain from her injury was replaced with a completely different ache. Kat whimpered when James pulled away, but he must have seen the need in her eyes because there wasn't a peep from him about whether or not he had hurt her. And the way he was looking at her...it was more than desire. Something she'd never seen, not even from the man she had married all those years ago, and Kat's heart pounded with the rush of emotion that suddenly flooded it.
"I couldn't sleep the other night," James confessed, pressing his forehead against hers and stroking the braid that had fallen across her shoulder. "While you were in the med bay." His knuckles brushed across the side of her breast as his hand slipped down the length of hair and Kat inhaled sharply at the touch. Only a tee shirt separated their flesh, and she found herself cursing it. His eyes darkened at her response, and James repeated the motion while trailing kisses across her jaw.
"So many things I want to do with you," he breathed huskily into her ear. His hand skimmed down her side, lightly touching her abdomen, tickling the edges of her ribs, splaying his hand around her waist. Sliding it under her shirt and reversing the direction it had been traveling seconds before. But he stopped at his first touch of the tape holding the gauze over her wound.
"I can't," he breathed, face in her neck and fingers twitching on Kat's ribs. God, he wanted to, but it was a chance that James couldn't take. Even if they were careful...slow...gentle... There was too much risk of opening the wound.
But she had come alive at his touch. Eyes dilated with need. Pulse racing under his lips at her throat. If James had ever doubted that Kat wanted him as badly as he wanted her, those fears had been laid to rest.
James felt her fingertips brush through his hair, along the edge of his mohawk. Soothing. Accepting. His arm slid around her waist as he repositioned himself behind her, and he played with the soft skin on Kat's belly as she leaned back against him.
A million thoughts ran though his head, chief of which being his conversation with Garrus the night before. About how you just know once you've reached that point of no return with someone. For James, it started with that tiny flicker of a kiss on the Citadel. But it paled next to how terrified he was of losing Kat when he carried her into the med bay.
She had become so much more than a roommate the past few weeks. Joining in the weekly poker games with the other crew members. Orchestrating the birthday party that had turned a tragedy into a celebration. Becoming the voice he heard when the right tunes were played on his guitar.
Staying up with him when the nightmares about Fehl hit. There had been three since they had started bunking together. The first time they stayed up, hitting the weights before morning chow was called. The second time, she put in a vid to put him in a better mood, and they'd fallen asleep halfway through it. The third time, the night before Tuchanka, when he woke from the nightmare into the dream of having her in his arms.
"They're about Fehl," he whispered, knowing Kat would understand that he meant the nightmares. He'd mentioned the attack before, but only as something he didn't want to talk about.
"I know," she replied quietly, and those simple words broke him. James told her about the mission that had taken him to the planet. About the people in the colony. The men in his squad. About his C.O. Every gory detail from beginning to end. And she didn't flinch. Didn't waver. Just lay there while he talked, taking his hand and holding it close. Kissing his fingertips.
He'd given the Commander a basic rundown on the Collector attack, but Kat had just heard it all. Didn't judge or give some militant "it was the right thing" bullshit. Just listened, letting him purge the memories. The emotions. Holding his hand. Soaking in the moment that was uniquely theirs.
Kat shifted against him as he stifled a yawn, so James decided to lay them both back down. As an after thought, he grabbed his omni-tool and punched in a quick message for Steve, knowing their friend would check it as soon as he got up. One more quick set of security commands to allow him entry to the room while they slept, and breakfast would be waiting when they got up.
Yeah, Scars, he thought silently to his friend as he settled in next to Kat. That moment. It's right now.
**Disclaimer** Bioware owns the rights to Mass Effect.
A/N: I'm not entirely sure how soon we'll see Kat & James again, folks. I have the next chapter started, but my muse is pushing me to work on "Ferelden Sunset" at the moment and life in general has kept me pretty busy, too. Don't worry too much...this story is mapped out in my head and I'll get back to it as soon as the Amell family has had some time to speak their piece for a few weeks.