When the door closes behind her, Shepard heaves a long sigh. She ran away, yet again. And she hates herself for it, yet again. The knot in her stomach has yet to loosen and she feels like she's going to retch at any moment. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. It doesn't make her feel better. At least she tried.

She heads to the bathroom and fishes her meds out of her first aid kit, and pops two tablets in her left hand. She stares at them for a minute. Will she be able to keep them in? Groaning, she opens the water, swallows the tablets and tries to drink just enough water to ease them through her esophagus, hoping it will be a one way trip.

She leaves the bathroom quickly, before she can see herself in the mirror. She doesn't need to see her face right now. She doesn't need her reflection to stare back at her with accusing eyes, blaming her for her cowardice and selfishness. She probably looks like shit anyway.

She lets her feet carry her, not sure what to do with herself. They lead her down the flight of stairs, and stop in front of the bed, when they can't walk anymore without a conscious intervention on her part. She stares at it, and feels her throat constrict painfully. She still remembers where Garrus had sat when they had started... No. When she had started this whole mess.

It had felt so good to be held tight in his arms. It had felt like she could finally let go, bare herself whole without feeling vulnerable, finally be at peace with her demons, as if the sting of their teeth was not so scary anymore. The pain remained, but the venom was gone. Silly, silly Jane. She should have known that the less scared you are of monsters, the closer you're getting to turn into one of them, no matter how rightful the change feels. You're never the villain of your own story after all. Hell, she's sure even the Reapers really believe they are entitled to commit mass murder and genocide on a galactic scale.

She feels dirty and empty.

She turns around and sits on the floor, leaning her back on the foot of the bed, resting her arms on her knees.

Tavia... She could still see her eyes on Garrus, full of awe, respect and something more, something she guesses was restrained desire. Were her own eyes on him reflecting the same things when she looked at him? She'd never know. Lucky girl. She was young, visibly pretty by any standards, and more importantly... she was Turian. She never would have thought she would ever feel regret at being Human, but here she is, alone in her room, having definitively fucked things up between her and the only man that ever truly mattered more than her own life, and knowing that none of this would ever have happened if she belonged to his species.

For a moment, she regrets not accepting his advances. Maybe having already had a taste of what being held by this man would feel like would have made the thought of him holding another tonight less devastating. But the moment is gone, and she hates herself even more. Taking advantage of him that way would be no different from the Reapers using indoctrination to bend people to their will. And she just wished she did the same thing, not only to an innocent, but to the closest friend she ever had, just because she couldn't stand the thought of the hands of another woman on him. When had he crawled so deep into her battered heart?

Jealousy was a cold, ugly, lonely thing.

She looks at her hands and wonders how it would feel to have six fingers. How his hands look like underneath those gloves, how they would feel to the touch. She'll probably never know that either. And it hurts more than it should.

She blinks away the tears, surprised she has any left at all.

She jumps when EDI's voice breaks the silence.

"Shepard, Garrus is outside your quarters, requesting entry."

What? The hell is he doing here? She feels her stomach jump in her chest, landing in unexpected places and sending tingles of panic in her cheeks and fingertips.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her spinning head.

"Let him in."

"Right away. Logging you out."

The doors swoosh open and he hesitates for a second before stepping in. He had rushed here without really planing anything ahead, and now he realizes he's actually intruding on a moment she isolated herself on purpose. And justifying that meant tackling the issue of their mutual attraction, something he hadn't planned on doing tonight. Tonight, they were just supposed to have a nice night out with the crew, drinking and chatting and forgetting issues, not confronting them. Oh well. As far as he was concerned, the party was over as soon as she left the club anyway, so now is as good a time as any, and postponing endlessly didn't make anything easier.

The sudden urgency of the situation and the impending disaster send waves of adrenaline into his veins, making his limbs feel numb yet very much awake as he walks down the flight of stairs separating them. Her face is unreadable.

"I thought you'd be with Tali," he says lamely, not really knowing how to break the silence any other way.

"I thought you'd be with Tavia," she answers a little more coldly than she wanted, and instantly regrets her childish reaction when she sees him wince. That was unfair.

"Shepard, you need to unwind like everyone else on this ship, and sitting alone in your cabin hardly counts. Why don't we go back? I'm offering the next round," he offers, extending a hand towards her. Well, it doesn't hurt to try. What happened to not postponing anymore?

She stands up and crosses her arms. His hand falls back to his side as realization hits him hard. He should have questioned why she was there, if she was alright. He was not supposed to already partially know the answers to those questions and not feel the need to ask. The lines between their truths and lies were slowly fading, to the point where it was almost impossible to keep track of who knew what and what could or couldn't be said. He was so used to navigating through metaphorical landmines that he was not sure if he was still putting any effort into pretending. It almost felt wrong to stop completely. What had he become?

"I could say the same about you. You're a Turian in a Human ship. I won't pretend I know every subtlety of your species and culture, but I know enough to be aware that you have gone a little too long without any serious stress relief, since no one wants to spar with you except for me and I couldn't with the splint. Omega was ages ago." She frowns.

"I can wait." He frowns back. Yes, he's pent up to an unhealthy level, but he's not some rabid varren whose behavior is solely dictated by the most basic of urges. That was actually a bit offensive.

"And I can handle myself. Besides, you don't even have to. I may not be an expert in Turian nonverbal communication, but I'm pretty sure she was willing to help." Saying it out loud stings, hard.

"So?" He raises a brow plate, berating himself for letting his blooming anger erode his patience so easily.

"So, I need my crew in top shape, and I'm not going to sit back and watch you put your own health and performances at risk because you feel the need to babysit me."

"I don't f... babysit you? Really Shepard?" He spreads his arms in disbelief. "Did you seriously just pull rank on me to make me have sex with Tavia?" His eyes go impossibly wide. Is she for real?

"What? No!" She scowls. "Just... don't fucking ignore your own health! I can take care of mine!" She waves her arms around in frustration.

He crosses his arms and leans back on one leg.

"Right. Like you did when you crossfaded yourself on me?" Slippery slope, dammit.

Her eyes widen and her jaw goes slack for a moment.

"Fuck you, Vakarian." She points a finger at him accusingly. "I'm not taking that bait. That's none of your damn business."

"You've got to be kidding me!" he says, throwing his arms in the air and spinning round, as if he were talking to someone else. He turns to her and spreads his arms towards her. "You fainted on me, do you have any idea how worried you had me?"

"It's not like you were awake to see it," she retorts, crossing her arms and looking to the side, painfully aware that her argument was irrelevant.

Oh crap. He needs to deflect, and do it quick.

"Still, how does that compare to whether I get laid tonight? And why the hell were you just pushing me on Tavia?" He vaguely gestures towards the door behind him, scowling hard.

She winces. Both because she knows he's right and because she doesn't know how to explain her actions without giving too much away. And maybe just by hearing her name too. She hates feeling cornered.

"Well..." She runs a hand in her hair in a self-conscious gesture, still not meeting his eyes. "You two seemed close, I thought that-" He interrupts her.

"You thought?" He takes a step forward, waving a hand around. "You thought, Shepard? And what about what I want? With all that thinking, it never occurred to you that you could ask?"

He's furious. Not just because she disregarded the fact that he may have wishes and desires she couldn't necessarily anticipate or because she was still dodging the fact that he had shamelessly come on to her very recently as if it never happened. No, what infuriates him the most is that he's convinced she's just being selfless in her own twisted, convoluted way. She's willing to ignore her own health in favor of his when he's obviously better off if the shadows around her eyes are anything to go by, and she just backed off without even putting up a fight when faced with the first thing that vaguely resembled competition just to avoid getting in the way of whatever she thought she would get in the way of. Putting others' health before hers is nothing new, so as much as it's still unacceptable, it's no surprise either, but backing away from a challenge is so unlike her it makes his stomach hurt with a mix of anger and disappointment. It was just so wrong.

"Fucking fine!" She steps forward, throwing her arms in the air. "What do you want?"

Fuck it.

"You!" He steps forward again and grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her lightly. "I want you, Shepard! I thought I had made it clear enough already!"

She feels like she just got sucker punched and she forgets to breathe for a moment, trying to navigate through the pain, panic and the sick mix of loss and lust at seeing him so close, towering over her with so much intent in his eyes. She almost welcomes the thrill of it before remembering that she's not so much of a masochist that she would get off in despair and regret. Drowning, overwhelmed by the cold hands of her guilt clawing at her skin and pulling her deeper, echoing the feel of his hands squeezing at her shoulders, she reacts on pure instinct, uncharacteristically favoring flight over fight. Her arms come up between his and spread in a swift motion, effectively swatting his hands away, and she immediately takes a step back.

"Dive now."

His body reacts immediately, completely bypassing any conscious thought process. His shoulders slump and his head drops, and for a moment he wonders if he'd ever get rid of that reflex. Just considering how well his conditioning has turned out makes his stomach churn in self-disgust. He briefly wonders if he should drop the act before she speaks again.

"Garrus, you're..." She swallows the lump in her throat in hope that it wouldn't make her voice break again. "You're not attracted to me." Well, so much for not breaking.

The hell is she talking about?

"What you think is attraction," she continues while a tear escapes her waning control and rolls down her cheek, "is the result of my taking advantage of you while you were vulnerable to suggestion, it's not real."

His eyes slowly rise to her face, taking in the pain distorting her soft features into something he instantly hopes to never witness again, while he processes the new information. So that was what was holding her back all along. It made sense in a way, suggestion was one of the main purposes of the technique so it wasn't much of a stretch to come to such a conclusion. He had been so driven by his own overflowing desires and longing that it never crossed his mind that they could have been interpreted as fabricated. His heart clenches painfully at the thought of how much guilt and restraint she must have gone through while harboring such beliefs.

"Garrus, I want you to forget everything that ever happened while you were in this state." Another tear breaks free. "You will not fall back to this place if I say 'dive now' ever again. You will be free." The words sound like they're tearing her throat apart, contrasting with the resolute frown that suddenly strengthens her expression.

He's stunned. As much as he wants to react, say something, do something, his mind is blank. Slowly, every piece of the puzzle finds its rightful place as he realizes what exactly has happened it that head of hers, and the picture slowly forming is dark, cold, lonely and oh so wrong. He had no idea. And now, she is severing the last fragile bond she has left with what little she thought she could have of him.

If only she knew.

"Now", she starts, clenching her eyes shut, "go have fun with the one you really want because you know you need it as well as I do." She quickly dries her eyes with the heels of her hands.

That hurt. But somehow, she feels lighter. Broken but liberated. She can let go, or at least finally work on it, try her best to move on. Go back to her comforting loneliness where the fear of heights can't make her knees weak and her heart dread the inevitable bite of loss. He may not understand, but they were past the need for that. He just had to accept the new distance, it would be her last personal request to him.

Clap clap.

She never anticipated his sudden growl, nor his body closing in again, one hand grabbing her hair, the other circling her waist as his mouth plates almost painfully collide with her lips. His grip is so tight that all the air leaves her lungs in surprise while her eyes feel like they're ready to pop out of their sockets. She desperately grabs his arms to steady herself as her head starts to spin and she's not sure if her feet touch the ground anymore.

It ends as abruptly as it started and he pulls away, his hand still tightly gripping at her hair, sending small jabs of pain in her scalp. Before she can gather her wits and comprehend what just happened, he closes in again, pressing his forehead on hers and his low, deep voice wraps around her like a warm blanket so thick and tight she feels like she's choking.

"I want you to listen carefully what I'm about to say, because I will probably never have a chance to say it again, so please..." He briefly closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens them again, he pulls away just far enough to pierce her with his gaze and tenses. "I want you, Shepard. Not Tavia, not anyone else. And I've never wanted anyone so bad in my entire life. This is crazy. We can't keep going like this, with so much left unsaid between us and that's why I have to come clean. I..." He takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact. "I never was hypnotized, it was meant to be a prank and it got out of control, and I have no words to express how sorry I am. I lied to you and I would und- oof!" He releases her as soon as her fist collides with his abdomen, hard.

"You what?!" she shrieks in a high-pitched voice so unlike her it hurts more than her punch.

He straightens, still keeping his head low and looking to the side, a hand cradling the side she hit him on.

"Hypnosis... apparently doesn't work on Turians. I'm sorry." He closes his eyes, not wanting to loo at her face right now, afraid of what he would find there.

She can feel heat and tingles seep under her skin as panic and mortification peak inside her, higher than she ever thought to be possible. Her mind is reeling, flooded by memories of all those times she thought he wasn't conscious, trying to go through everything she had said and done at once. The result, a jumbled mess of embarrassment and shame, is brutal. She had believed she was safe with him, that she could trust him. She felt betrayed, violated, she could almost feel the cold bite of the blade in her back and the blood pour in her lungs, drowning her. Slowly, rage starts to burn from deep within her chest, spreading through every nerve like wildfire, numbing her senses. Anger, she knew. Anger, she could deal with. Yeah, that. Much better.

His eyes still closed, he didn't see her fist coming. He had expected it, but the force of it sends him stumbling backwards, and he has to grasp the back of the nearest reclining chair to keep from falling. The side of his face throbs painfully and through the dizziness he vaguely remembers hearing a crack. He barely has the time to let his eyes focus back on reality, on her, before she throws herself at him with a loud roar, her eyes wide and ablaze with unleashed fury.

Punches and kicks are thrown at him in rapid fire and he barely dodges most of them, the rest landing with bruising force, forcing him to feint and counter attack in the most creative ways to avoid hurting her too much. He's at a disadvantage and endures more than he can control, but he can't help but have a new appreciation of her close quarters combat abilities. He knew she was holding back to a certain extent when they sparred, but he hadn't realized she was this deadly without biotics. Fear courses through his veins, heightening his focus and vibrating through his limbs and he knows he's teetering at the edge of his own control, that she's close to doing serious harm, her body periodically flickering with barely contained mass effect fields.

She's magnificent.

Soon enough, her own focus wavers, and her hits start lacking power as she lets out a pained mixed of a howl and a cry. He deflects a sloppy punch and grabs her wrist, twists it to destabilize her forward and spins around her arm to grab her elbow and drag her body with the momentum, making her fall face-first on the floor. Before she recovers, he twists her arm behind her back, straddles her and grabs her in a headlock.

For a long minute, the silence is only broken by his heavy breathing, her soft, choked sobs and the occasional struggle.

"Why?" she chokes out with a broken voice. "Why did you do this to me?" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Why you? Not... you... please not you..."

He lowers his head to her temple, nuzzling her briefly, still keeping a tight grip on her. What should he respond to that? His heart dies a little at every word she forces out and he's not sure he can ever find a way to express the pain and regret that will probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I knew this would happen when the first tear fell on my shoulder on that fateful day," he whispers, his words barely audible under the unrestrained subharmonic cry of pain, loud enough for her to hear so close to her ear. "I'm a coward. I should never have waited so long. And I'm guilty of having enjoyed it too. I have no excuse and I know it. But whatever you decide to do with me now, I'll only have one final request." He sighs, hoping she'll hear the only thing he's still sure about in the whole galaxy. "Shepard, please, let me keep fighting alongside you." His voice are barely audible, laden with shame at his own selfishness, but it needs to be said now. He was not sure he'd ever have another chance.

Her sobs subside and her labored breathing turns into a growl as she struggles again.

"Get the fuck out," she hisses between clenched teeth.

He recoils as his heart clenches in pain, and lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding in a soft, flanged cry. It takes him a few more breaths to trust his voice to work again.

"Of course," he whispers.

He releases her neck and her wrist while standing up, the bruising making the process slow and painful. He knows his body will hurt for days but it's nothing. He feels like he just swallowed crushed glass, tearing up his insides and making his plates tingle with despair, and that will last a hell of a lot longer.

Shepard stays immobile, spread on the floor, resting her forehead on the cold, metallic flooring, her hand still behind her back. He steps away from her and heads to her desk. He hears rustling noises as he opens the door to her liquor stash and grabs the three bottles he finds there, including his horosk. He closes it and heads to the door when he hears her clipped words.

"What are you doing?"

He turns to her. She's standing right below the flight of stairs, back ramrod straight, clenched fists and steel in her eyes behind the soft red glow. He shivers.

"Your health a favor," he says weakly. He's not sure she'd be on meds, but the odds were pretty high and he's not willing to take the risk. Besides, she's already beyond furious and he doesn't have much left to lose anyway. Not wanting to wait for an answer, he immediately turns back to the door.

Words leave her mouth before she realizes it, bypassing any kind of filter, ignoring reason, anger and frustration taking over her body and mind.

"I fucking hate you," she growls, instantly regretting her outburst.

He freezes, hand hovering the door's panel. When he turns his head to speak to her, she's stunned by his distraught expression and his broken, wavering voice pierces her heart.

"I know."

The door opens and he disappears, leaving her alone with the vile shadow of guilt whispering in her ear, accusing and merciless.

A/N: Damn, that was hard to write. Urgh. Hum... I'm sorry? ^^'

Thank you dragoonqueen for the help on grammar! :3

One more thing: The move Garrus uses on Shepard is a loose adaptation of an aikido move, ikkyo ura. Extremely effective if properly done.