A/N: Well this chapter turned out a lot darker than I expected. I have 7 different scenes that were chopped up and cut out of this thing. It's been emotionally taxing with some of the things I've put to paper, a lot of which has been scrapped. Still, this is a weird mix of happy/dark. But mostly dark.

Also, this was something that I forgot to mention last chapter: if you guys ever want to read some major Tali/Shep fluff I suggest Bahoogasmif's stories, which have sort of inspired some of the content in this fic. They are a delightful read.

EDIT: _Also_ forgot to mention that my Pen Name on FF has been altered slightly—my OCD finally got the better of me and couldn't handle the numbers on my original name. So no, you're not going crazy. I just changed it up a little.

_So as we walked_

_Through fields of green_

_Was the fairest sun I'd never seen_

_And I was broke _

_I was on my knees_

**Chapter 16: I'm Fine**

She jerked awake, shivering. She groped for blankets, mind still foggy with sleep.

She looked over to see Shepard wrapped up in the sheets, twisted and bunched up from fitful sleep. Although troubled dreams had likely caused it, she couldn't help but snort into her pillow at the sight of him tangled in bed sheets.

She pushed on his arm, another shudder going through her. "John."

His brows drew together, mouth twisting.

Another push. "Shepard. Wake up."

He sat up suddenly, blinking. "What?" he scrubbed at his face, looking around.

She giggled. "Can I have some blankets?"

He looked over at her, curled up in a ball and staring up at him through strands of mussed hair.

He gazed down at himself, smiling faintly. "Yeah. One sec." he wrestled with the sheets, limbs flailing in an effort to get them unwrapped from his body.

When he'd successfully gotten out of his cocoon, he opened his arms, gesturing for her to come close. She did so enthusiastically, pressing close to him and burrowing into the blankets, shivering.

She wrapped her arms around him, planting a kiss on his collarbone. Her fingers traced the scars on his back, trailing over the slightly raised pale tissue.

Another kiss. "Mmm... you're nice and warm." she whispered, moving closer.

"Not now, Tali."

His tone made her look up at him, surprised. "What?"

His eyes held an odd expression. "I'm tired. Let's just go to sleep."

She sat up, concerned. If he was turning down sex, something was seriously wrong. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." he said, rolling over on his side, back turned.

She touched his arm. "What's the matter? Did you have a bad dream again?"

"I said I'm fine, Tali."

She laid back down, pulling the covers up. Had she said something? She mentally scrolled through their short conversation. No, she hadn't, unless he found the actual topic of lovemaking offensive, something she highly doubted.

Her throat felt a little tight as she rolled onto her side. She didn't expect Shepard to have sex with her whenever she wanted him to—though refusal had hardly been an issue before now—but the almost rude way he'd brushed her off had hurt.

Even during the war, when he'd been stressed out and exhausted, John had always been cordial to her. She could count on one hand the number of times he'd slipped up and snapped at her.

So what was it, then?

"Pass down the water!" he called up, scanning the massive hole he stood in.

Jesus, was it ever hot. Rannoch's arid climate coupled with Tikkun's long day cycle made for blazing temperatures. It didn't help that he'd been doing heavy lifting all day.

The basement was now dug out, filled with a concrete-like casing, with stairs added in one corner. He surveyed the massive rectangular pit with more than a little pride. He was hardly an architect, but he could at least help with less complicated tasks. Now to finish the rest of the house, which currently only had the skeleton of it built, Metal bones stretching up over the unfinished basement.

"Ow!" something bumped into his forehead, making him stagger a little. He looked down to see what had hit him. A water canteen.

"Sorry!" Tali called over the edge of the hole, giggling.

He grinned up at her. "You owe me for that!"

He heard her scoff. "The hell I do, Shepard! Now get up here and have some lunch."

He picked up the canteen, taking a generous swig and climbing up the small scaffolding ramps they were using for access.

He saw his mother under a small tarp they were using for shade, laying out what food was available on the Normandy.

He felt a hand on his arm and looked over to see Tali smiling at him from behind her mask.

"I really am

sorry." she said teasingly.

He smiled back at her, though she noted that it didn't reach his eyes. "It's alright." he pulled away from her, gaze drifting towards the lunch table.

"John, get over here and eat something." his mother called.

He did so, and she realised that he was avoiding touching her. Her throat felt tight again, a feeling she was becoming accustomed to.

What he stood in front of was hardly a regular lemonade and sandwich buffet that usually accompanied hot days, but with him being this hungry he didn't much care. Taking a plate and sitting down on a crate, he began to engulf his rations.

Tali watched him eat, concern flaring. What was the matter with him? Up until a couple of weeks ago he'd barely been able to stop touching her, the overwhelming joy of being together again making it hard not to stray close to one another.

Now though, he was different. More inward. He talked less and had made an effort to put physical distance between them. Even the simple things like a hand brushing hers or a light touch on the shoulder in passing had gradually stopped, until he barely touched her at all.

They hadn't made love in two weeks. She kept asking him what was wrong, but he'd only smile faintly and say he was fine, just a little tired. She finally stopped asking.

Sure, they'd still occasionally banter and maybe even flirt, but it seemed like he was doing it more to keep up appearances than actual enjoyment.

Was it about Akuze? Had old, painful memories caused this introversion? She silently damned the colonists again, rage boiling close to the surface.

Somehow though, she didn't think that was it.

"Admiral?" Tali asked shyly.

Hannah looked up from the book she was reading to see Tali standing there.

"Lord, don't call me that. It's just Hannah, honey. My title's more for political settings than anything else." she patted the seat next to her. "Come sit."

"Okay." she did, fingers twining around each other in what Hannah had begun to recognize as a nervous gesture.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Something's wrong with John." she blurted, not looking up from her hands.

Hannah raised a brow. "Is he being rude to you?"

Tali met her gaze. "Well, no. Not really. He..." she trailed off, sounding embarrassed.

"He..?"

"He won't touch me." she said, head ducking a little.

Hannah absorbed the information silently. Well, this was fairly significant. John had appeared quite enamored to this girl, and she didn't think she'd ever seen them together without some form of physical contact. Not until now, at least.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks? Why haven't you said anything until now?" she asked, surprised.

Tali fidgeted. "I didn't think it was anything. Just him being tired from working on the house all day."

Hannah looked at her. "If you offered to sleep with a man on his death bed he'd likely consent. I don't think being tired has anything to do with it."

Tali laughed a little, but sobered quickly. "Then I don't know what it is. He won't talk to me when I ask him what's wrong." her hands had unwound themselves, curling into fists where they rested on her legs. "Dammit, he barely says anything to me at all. If I don't start the conversation then we're not talking."

"The weight of the galaxy has been a terrible burden to hold up." Hannah said quietly. "Even the strongest of shoulders can break sometimes."

Tali looked suddenly guilty. "I hadn't... why didn't I think of that? Keelah, I'm sorry—"

Hannah touched her arm. "You have a right to be angry, Tali. He shouldn't be treating you like this. I'm just trying to put a name to the problem."

Tali nodded, fingers knotting themselves again. "I just... he should be happy. I mean, he was. Until we went to Akuze..." she blew out an angry breath. "I hate those colonists," she said heatedly. "He's been through enough already. John shouldn't have to go through any more."

Hannah smiled sadly. "Life's rarely fair, though I'm sure you know that already. I don't know what to tell you, honey. If he isn't willing to talk, their isn't much you can do to solve the problem."

Tali met her gaze, sounding almost panicked. "Can't you try to talk to him?"

"I can, and I will, but I don't think he'll listen to me. If he won't talk to you I have a feeling that he won't be more talkative to me."

Tali looked down at her hands. "I just want him to be happy." she whispered.

Hannah stood up, patting her arm. "I'll try to talk to him. See if it helps."

Tali smiled up at her. "Thank you."

Hannah began to walk towards the construction, leaving Tali alone with her thoughts.

Her eyes drifted to where Shepard was working, quarians gathered around to help him with the building. Her people weren't architects—no need for such a trade on starships—but they each had an affinity for fixing and putting things together.

She had given them the electrical plan she'd drawn up, watching them install the technology she had specified almost to the letter.

She would be the one doing it if Shepard wasn't right there. Tali knew she was being a coward and avoiding him, but her heart clenched every time she looked at him and saw his distant expression, and she didn't want bad feelings associated with their home. So she sat back for now.

John was almost totally consumed with the need to finish the house, as if it was the only thing keeping him going.

She wondered what would happen when the house was complete.

"Do we deserve death?"

"Shepard, there is something I want you to know. The Illusive Man ordered my creation years ago. Jeff was the one that allowed me to think for myself. But only now do I feel alive. That is your influence."

He opened his eyes, staring up at the stars that shined through the window above the bed, metal voices echoing in his mind. Beside him, he could hear Tali breathing softly, deep in sleep.

Those voices became louder every night. Their arrival on Rannoch had made him truly realize how many he'd killed . So many dead, and yet he was still able to roam the earth.

Now they drowned out nightmares of even Akuze, flooding his mind with images of Legion sacrificing himself for his entire people, of EDI bickering with Joker.

The bonds they had forged and the sacrifices they had made during the war now meant nothing. All their actions, all their choices, now gone. Because of him. It seemed that their only purpose now was to torture him. And rightly so.

Anger suddenly flared. What other choices could he have made? Perverting the DNA of the entire galaxy? Taking hold of absolute power?

No, his goal had never been power. The power given to him during the war had drove him to the very edge of sanity, a three-fingered hand the only thing holding him back from jumping.

He looked over at Tali, glowing eyes dark behind her smoky visor. He'd been driving her away, punishing himself by being with her as little as possible. His fingers clenched with the ache to touch her, the want to feel her close to him.

He knew he was hurting her. He could see it in her eyes every time she looked at him. But he couldn't truly be with her without he himself being happy, and he didn't deserve happiness. His options were leaving her—a thought so painful that he could only think of it in his periphery—and destroying her chance at happiness, or stay with her and live with the knowledge that his life with Tali on Rannoch was the result of the death of millions.

There was always a choice. Ones that would always burn someone no matter which option he chose.

His chest tightened with pain, and he stopped himself from curling inwards. Jesus, he didn't know what to do.

He almost reached over to her, to wake her up and feel the comfort of her touch, but he grabbed a fistful of sheets to stop himself. She'd just ask him what was wrong.

He wanted to tell her. The weight of it was back-breaking, and his journey was far from over. Soon he'd fall, and he didn't know if he'd be able to stand back up again.

Yet another, larger part of his mind told him that he deserved whatever punishment he was suffering. So many lives lost, taken away before they'd ever truly experienced what the meaning of the word Life even meant. How dare he think that he could just simply unload his burdens onto another?

Hell raged inside his head, barring any thoughts of sleep from his mind. As it did every night.

He watched the flames flicker and spark, shivering at the wind.

The crew had decided on having another campfire, the fresh air hard to resist after so much time spent aboard starships with cycled oxygen.

Garrus said they were celebrating the half-completion of the house, it's metal supports casting long shadows in the wavering light of the fire. He didn't think "half-done" was an appropriate term for the bare structure, but he wasn't about to take away his friend's excuse to celebrate.

"Keelah, it's cold." Tali said, walking up next to him. He looked down at her, seeing her shudder faintly.

It took all his strength not to wrap his arms around her. "You want my jacket?"

Glowing eyes looked up at him, not saying anything for a long moment.

"I want you to hold me." she whispered finally, though they stood far enough away from the crew that being overheard wasn't an issue.

He clenched his fists so tightly he felt his knuckles pop, looking away from her.

He felt a hand on his jaw as she forced him to meet her gaze. "What's going on, John? Why won't you talk to me?"

"I..." he trailed off, jaw clenching and unclenching.

"Do you love me, Shepard?" She asked, voice wavering.

"More than you know." he said quietly, chest tightening with sorrow at the fact that she even had to ask such a question. That his actions drove her to do so.

"Then talk to me. Tell me what has you hurting so badly that you won't even touch me." she pleaded, voice

wavering.

"I'm fine—"

"No you're not!" She screamed, pushing against his chest. Although it was driven by anger, he relished the contact, however brief. "I can see it in your eyes! You don't sleep or talk or—" she broke off, realizing that they could be heard. "Or make love to me." The rawness in her voice was almost crippling.

Rage and pain and guilt—everything he felt came boiling to the surface at the sound of her voice. "Well I'm fucking fine, Tali! Nothing's wrong!"

She let out a sob, latching onto his arm. "Don't you dare walk away! Shepard!"

He turned, pulling his arm up and yanking it from her grasp, far too harshly.

His movements knocked her to the ground, and the hate he felt for himself nearly brought him to his knees.

The crew stared at the scene that played out a little ways away from the campfire, eyes wide with shock.

He had to get out of here. He strode away in a random direction, blocking out the sob he heard coming from behind him.

He walked until the pain finally crippled him, and he fell to the dust, fingers scraping against the dirt and forehead pressing into the soil, tiny rocks digging into his skin as he bent over, breath escaping him in ragged gasps.

The image of her falling kept replaying in his mind, over and over. Voices, faces, swirled inside his head, a reminder of every bad decision, every bloody choice.

Atlas had finally crumpled under the weight of it all, a simple touch that had ultimately broke him.

He managed to lift his head to see the cliff face he'd fallen to. The ocean moved restlessly under the stars, its current disrupted by the corpse of a Reaper, chitinous legs reaching out of the water.

The beast's dead eye stared at him, Judge, Jury, and Executioner all held in the vacant orb.

Hate spread in his chest, leaking down into his belly until he felt sick. They'd been the damn cause of it all. The suffering of so many, the death of even more.

Which only left survivors, hanging onto enough guilt and regret to drive them mad. Though he supposed going insane would make his life easier.

Garrus ran over to her, an arm on her hand as he helped her up.

"Spirits, what's going on?"

She choked back her tears, swallowing hard as she tried to force down the tightness in her throat.

"I don't know," she said, breathing still ragged.

But she was going to find out. That stubborn bastard wasn't going to hide anything from her any longer. She didn't care of she had to tie him down and beat him, he was going to tell her what was wrong.

"I'm going to find him." she said, pulling away from Garrus and walking in the direction he'd gone.

"Do you think that that's—"

"Yes, I do!" she snarled at him, increasing her pace, leaving Garrus standing there wide-eyed.

She squared her shoulders as she practically jogged, readying herself for what she knew would be a fight. She hated yelling at him, but she was willing to do it. If it fixed whatever problem they had, she'd say whatever she had to.

But it still didn't stop fear from curling in her belly. She knew he'd never intentionally hurt her, but whatever was making him act like this wouldn't be easy to listen to, or get him to speak about.

She almost wished she had her shotgun. Maybe pointing a gun at him would make him more communicative.

She found him, finally, on his knees near a cliff face, bent over as if something was physically paining him.

"John?" she ventured quietly. She'd been ready to yell at him but the sight before her made her chest clench with sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he said to the ground, so quietly she almost didn't hear him, fingers scraping against dirt.

She walked over to him, kneeling down and placing a hand on his back. "Please, Shepard. Tell me what's wrong."

He uncurled from his bent position, meeting her gaze as he knelt in the dust.

Her heart broke at the sight of his face. His azure eyes had the most tortured expression she'd ever seen, as if Hell itself had crawled inside his soul. He hadn't been crying, not really, but his eyes shone brightly in the moonlight, features contorted in a hopeless expression.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, eyes drifting towards the ocean.

"I killed them." he said finally.

"Killed who?"

"The geth. EDI." he said, and she could see his throat work as he swallowed.

She touched his cheek, gloved fingers rasping against stubble. "Shepard, you couldn't have known what the Crucible would do. It was an entirely unused super-weapon that we only hoped would destroy the Reapers. No one knew what would happen."

He looked at her then, the grim smile on his face holding no humor. How wrong you are, the words echoed once more in his mind.

Slowly, haltingly, he began to tell her. He choked on some words, and paused altogether at others, regret closing his throat and making it hard to speak. It took a very long time. But he told her. All of it.

When words finally died on his lips and he fell silent, he felt a sort of light emptiness spread through him, as if his guilt had physically burdened him and the confession of it had rid them from his body. He stared out at the ocean, waiting for Tali to respond.

It took her almost an hour. He could see her struggling to find words, to try and say the right thing.

He knew there wasn't any solution, any answer. But the telling of it left him feeling drained, and suddenly the soil under him seemed quite comfortable.

"I... Keelah, John. This is what you've been carrying around with you?" she asked finally, touching his knee.

The literal fate of the galaxy in his palm, one man to choose what was best for trillions. And afterwards, he had to live alongside the results of his decision.

"Yes." he said simply.

"I-I don't know what to say, or do—"

"You've done enough." he smiled at her. "You've either been crazy or stubborn enough to stay with me this whole time. You haven't run from any truth I've given you or any regrets I've burdened you with. You've never shrank away from me or shown any fear," his hand reached up, brushing the side of her mask. "You've done so much, Tali. You don't need to say anything."

She scooted closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I want to do something."

"Sitting here listening to me has been more than enough." he stood up, pulling her with him, then dragged her into his arms. His cheek rested on her hood. "God, I've missed you."

She melted into him. "And I've missed you."

They walked back to the Normandy, hands brushing against one another's. It was so late by then that the whole crew was asleep, their arrival gone unnoticed.

She'd pulled him into the cabin and molded her mouth to his, urging him to seek comfort from her touch when she could not find words.

He had turned to her almost desperately, his touch searing heat across her skin as they moved against each other. She had originally intended to simply comfort him, discarding any want for her own pleasure, but his urgent movements had forced an aching response inside her, and she found herself arching against him as he'd released himself.

They lay there, afterwards, breathing the same air.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, he felt truly at peace.

Heavy stuff, mang. A lot of which could not be accomplished without listening to a ridiculous amount of music. The particular quote up top is by an awesome band, Mumford & Sons. The song is called "Not With Haste".