Chapter 36

Garrus slouched against the elevator wall with a huff, and Anya glanced at him as she hit the button.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just tired."

"You want to talk about this?"

"I don't know. That was...a lot."

"It was. How do you think the Primarch is handling it?" she asked, her brow furrowed as the elevator doors opened, and they stepped out together.

"Not well. Better than most, but…. He's feeling a lot of heartbreak right now, and some anger that he doesn't have a target for."

"Where'd you get that?" she asked as they entered their cabin, turning to face him once they were both inside.

"It's in his subharmonics," Garrus explained with a halfhearted shrug. "A few other things, too, but even that is some pretty personal stuff. His grief was the big one."

"I'm sorry, honey."

"I didn't know Tarquin well, I'm fine."

"It's...hard not to see parallels, though," Anya pointed out gently.

"It is," he admitted after a long moment. "Tarquin was roughly our age, taking on things bigger than he should have had to on his own, because he was trying to please his father by playing the dutiful son, and now he's dead."

"Yeah."

"I think...I need to spend some time appreciating our differences, right now," he murmured, reaching for her, and she stepped into his embrace without hesitation.

"And which differences were you thinking about?" she asked as he lowered his head to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Well, getting to a point with my dad where we can really talk sometimes. Having a girl in my life worth staying alive for, too. And even not counting our relationship, let's be real, if we're going to end this thing, you're going to need me on your six."

"You aren't wrong," she agreed, her fingers curling against his back, and she settled against him more fully.

"I know. You can even confirm it with Wrex, too," he teased, and she nearly laughed.

"Shut up."

"How are you feeling?" he murmured, and she sighed.

"I feel bad," she admitted. "We were supposed to be able to help him, and he ended up..."

"You can't blame yourself for other people's choices, Anya."

"I know. I just...wish it had gone differently, you know?"

"I know," he affirmed, squeezing her gently. "Do you want to get some sleep?"

"Ah, soon. I think we need a shower first."

"Alright, sweetie, I'm going to need you to level with me about something," he said, carefully running his talons through her hair.

"Okay…?"

"Are your people secretly much more aquatic than they let on?" he asked playfully. "I only ask because we both know you showered this morning, and we both know you're going to shower tomorrow morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that, plus we both know you're going to shower after basically every mission that doesn't leave you absolutely dead on your feet."

She snorted. "I think it's just me, honey. I hate to disappoint."

"I'm not disappointed. Just keep me in mind if you ever want to confess to being an amphibian," he teased, and she had to fight back a smile.

"I absolutely will," she deadpanned. "Now, are you going to join me in the shower?"

"Absolutely," he agreed, letting out a soft hum, his talons now gently sliding through the hair at the nape of her neck. She nearly shivered at the way his blunted talons slid across her skin. He murmured, "That okay?"

"Oh, yes," she replied softly, tilting her head and leaning into the touch.

"You are very affectionate for a woman who regularly shoots people," he teased.

"Mmm," she acknowledged. "And you're very affectionate for a man who regularly shoots people from slightly further away than I do. Probably the duality of man at work. Some things transcend species."

"Slightly further my ass. And duality of man?"

"Mhmm. The Jungian thing."

"Jungian what?" he sounded lost.

"The Jungian thing. Duality of man. Everything good has a bad counterpart, or facet, but the same goes for the bad shit."

"Where do you pick this stuff up?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Full Metal Jacket. It's an old war flick. They did a pretty solid remake back in eighty-seven, which they released on the centennial anniversary of the first one coming out, but the original was still better."

"I'm...I'm sorry, you like war movies that are almost two hundred years old?"

"Some of them. A lot of the older flicks have more heart than the new stuff, and half of what's coming out are just remakes of old vids, anyway. Hell, they still do productions of Hamlet, and that was written like six hundred years ago. And I...know war. You know I've been in the military since I was eighteen, being engaged in some kind of conflict has been a major part of my life. I like watching what I'm familiar with. What about you?" she asked, nuzzling the base of his throat before kissing the skin there once.

"Fair enough. And I'm big on...psychological thrillers, mostly, though I do also enjoy a solid mystery vid."

"I think...we should consider starting up a movie night. Maybe each week we take turns picking a flick. What do you think?"

"I love it," he murmured into her hair with a rumble. "Should we start with the one you mentioned?"

"Sure. I'll snag a copy the next time we're at the Citadel."

"Perfect."

"I'll bet you're just glad that you have extra time to pick out your own vids," she teased.

"It definitely doesn't hurt," he admitted, finally releasing her, and she nearly scowled at the loss of contact.

"C'mon, let's get this shower going," she murmured, and he let her tug him into the bathroom after her.

"You're eager."

"I'm tired, honey." She hurried to continue, before he could speak. "If I'm going to get some quality time with you while we're both naked, sooner is better than later, because I'm probably going to doze off as soon as we have a warm spot going in bed."

"I'm shocked, Shep. Is all this really just a ploy to get me naked?" he teased as he started working on the fastenings of his clothes.

"Guilty as charged. You're dating a fiend."

He laughed as he murmured, "Never change."