Chapter 5

Anya took another shot of whiskey and told herself it burned less than the one before. The mission had ended with no casualties, and Harkin hadn't been shot, but she didn't feel like it had been a success.

Garrus was angry, and hurting. Without Sidonis to unleash his pain on, Garrus was coping by isolating himself. He hadn't responded to either of the messages she'd sent, and she couldn't help but feel anxious. She didn't think he was a danger to himself or anyone else, but the thought that she'd just managed to ruin one of her dearest friendships kept looping through her mind. He hadn't wanted to talk to her after the mission, what if he never wanted to again?

Her steadily growing attraction to the turian notwithstanding, what was she supposed to do without her best friend?

She poured herself another shot and tried to summon the motivation to drink it. Instead, she pulled up her omni-tool and hesitated, wondering if he would respond to a third message.

Meet me at the bar.

She took the shot right after she sent the message. She waited for a few long minutes before she received a reply.

Really not up for it, Shepard. I just want to be left alone right now.

She ran a hand through her hair.

Okay. For what it's worth...I'm sorry.

She put away the bottle and the glass, and headed towards the door. It opened just before she arrived, revealing Garrus.

"Hey, sorry. I was just leaving." She looked down and made as if to go around him.

"Look, Shepard, about earlier, I was...I'm not trying to shut you out, I just need a little time. You get that, right?" The turian seemed distant, but his tone held a touch of pleading.

"Garrus, you don't need my permission to deal with your feelings, and you don't need my blessing to take however much time you need for it. Besides, I have done more than enough in terms of making this harder for you."

"You were trying to help."

"I was being a busybody and I forced your hand."

"You weren't wrong." Anya finally looked up at him. His gaze was intense. "Just because I'm not ready to talk about how you were right doesn't make you wrong."

"That's kind of you to say." Her voice cracked a little, and she cleared her throat. "I should go. It's getting late."

"Anya…" Why did he have to say her name that way, now of all times? His voice was worried, and there was an underlying tenderness that made her heart pound.

"Garrus…"

"I can already see you beating yourself up over this. This isn't a you thing. It's a me thing. Making yourself feel bad isn't going to make me feel any better. Will you try to remember that?"

"I just hate you being unhappy. Is that so strange?" Her voice softened and she looked down again.

"No, but it's still not a good reason to torment yourself." He stepped in close and placed both hands on her shoulders. "Everything is going to be okay. I just need a couple of days. Can you give me that without kicking yourself non-stop?"

"Whatever you need," she murmured, nodding. He pulled her into an embrace and she hugged back, hard. "I mean it, Garrus. Just let me know, okay?"

"Yeah, you got it." He tightened his hold on her for a brief moment before letting go. She did the same and stepped back.

"Good night, Garrus."

"Good night, Shep."

The two parted and Anya beelined for her cabin. It was hard to walk away from him, but she knew that he needed her to respect his wishes, and for once, she was going to come through for him.

"Fuck," she muttered as she stepped off the elevator. Tears were pricking her eyes. He still cared, and he cared enough to check on her, even though he was in pain. She hurried inside before she started crying.

(You don't deserve him.) The nasty, pessimistic voice was back.

She bit back a sob.

(Deserve has nothing to do with it. He's my friend, and I'm his.)

(Would he want to be friends if he knew?)

Shame colored her cheeks. Her desire for him definitely hadn't abated. Even with him in distress, she had felt herself react to the way he said her name.

(I can't help how I feel, but I am in control of how I act about it. He's my friend because my actions tell him everything he needs to know.)

(Yeah, but you're still going to be hiding away, touching yourself to him in your spare time.)

Her inner pessimist was a real bitch. Shepard wiped her eyes.

(So, what? It doesn't make me a shitty friend to have needs. I'm not imposing what I want on him, and it literally hurts nothing for me to find him attractive.)

The voice fell silent, and Anya breathed a sigh of relief. She needed a break. They weren't leaving the Citadel for at least two days, so she made a mental note to let message everyone in the morning to declare the next few days shore leave. A long weekend would do everyone good.

She looked over at her bed, dreading sleep. She knew that she either toss and turn half the night away, or relent and let her hands and mind wander to Garrus.

She took a breath and headed to bed. There were worse things than sleepless nights.

(Fuck it.)