28 Days ASR

Shepard opened the bathroom door to a massive cloud of steam. The humidity created a formidable barrier that solidified around her nostrils and mouth, making each inhalation a chore. Aching, her entire being stripped to the bone and as numb as a foot gone to sleep, she pushed into the rolling billows of steam. She could find the energy to stay on her feet long enough to wash Omega from her skin.

Even before the door closed, she ripped open the collar panel of the skin-tight tunic and pulled it over her head. She reached behind her to undo her bra, but couldn't convince her arms to lift far enough. Not that her smallish B cups prohibited pulling the detestable device straight over her head. She laid her hands over her fabric-covered breasts and sighed. With all the perceived imperfections that Cerberus had eliminated … her scars and freckles … she considered herself lucky they hadn't decided that huge boobs were necessary to save the galaxy.

A bitter laugh crackled over her tongue as she flung her tunic in the corner then stripped out of her trousers and panties, piling them on top of the shirt. Maybe the boob job was scheduled for later in the rebuilding process.

Footsteps approached the door, but she didn't bother to scramble for cover up. "You're steaming up the whole apartment," Nihlus chastised, but his voice just brushed over her, a gentle caress without any heat. "You going to shower with half your clothes still on?" Gentle talons unclasped her bra, then held a bottle over her shoulder. "Here. I stole this from Garrus's bathroom." When she took it, he turned and stepped back over the threshold, the door whispering shut behind him.

Shepard stared at the bottle. Her shampoo. He'd kept it. She popped the top open and inhaled, her eyes drifting closed. There it was. There she was … or part of her at least … as familiar and close as her heartbeat. It seemed that Garrus and Nihlus's voices weren't the only things she'd missed without remembering them.

She set the shampoo on the counter and stuck her hand under the water. Roasting hot, just the way she'd liked it once. Not anymore, not with the crevasses in her flesh carrying the heat all the way to her bones. She turned it down a little and stepped under the stinging spray.

A sharp cry squeezed out between her clenched teeth as a thousand tiny knives carved into her. Breathing through her nose, she counted off … warrior inside and out. She just needed to tough it out for a minute or so. The pain would numb. She knew how to take pain … knew how to muscle through it better than nearly anyone.

"You all right in there?"

A soft smile whispered across her face as she opened her eyes. "Yeah," she replied, the expected lie. Of course she wasn't all right. She'd spent the past couple of days bouncing down the tick marks on the left hand side of zero. So many had passed by that she began to hope the 'all-right scale' bottomed out at some point.

"You didn't even make the copy convincing. Dull, pale … you didn't even bother with her freckles, and you expect us to buy this? She looks like … a waxwork, and a nightmarish one at that!"

Shepard reached out, bracing her arms against the wall and let her head hang from her shoulders, chin to her chest. She just wanted to sleep. Who needed to get clean, anyway?

"What are you?"

She flinched as Garrus's words slammed through her head, a firework set loose to ricochet off the inside of her skull. How many times had she asked herself that same question over the past month? Too many, but damn it, she'd hoped to look into his eyes or Anderson's and see that they knew who and what she was. Naive to the point of stupidity, she supposed. They'd been there. They knew she died. Why would they just throw their arms wide and welcome her home?

"I held my Kahri as she died. I sat beside her body for three days before we buried her."

Oh, Garrus. A hiccoughing sob erupted from her throat, collapsing her at the waist, her knees buckling as she folded down. He'd sat by her side, holding her hand for three days. She'd been so stupid, wasting the time they'd had being afraid. She crouched, splayed fingertips braced against the tile above her head, gasping for breath between sobs as a waterfall of hot water poured over her brow.

During their clean-up mission, Martin had brought her up to speed on her missing years. Garrus refused to move on, swearing himself to a dead woman. As much as the depth of his devotion moved her, being the reason he lived half a life … it ground her heart under its heel.

And Anderson … .

"As for this desecration … if there is the slightest sign of a VI or an AI, I will put it down myself."

Sliding sideways, Shepard sat on one hip, her legs folded under her. Once her shoulder and brow pressed against the wall, her hands dropped into her lap. She understood his anger, and in an odd way, his fierce defense of her memory touched her, but … those words sliced like scalpels, cutting open dark, deep, and hidden parts of her.

"Don't come back."

The tears stopped, the pain sputtering as its engine ran out of fuel and died. Shepard closed her eyes, allowing the corner of the shower to hold her upright as Garrus's words punctured the tank, her will draining out, swirling into the water as it poured down the drain. Limbs heavy and numb, mind unable to form more than half a thought before the thread broke, she simply huddled, too tired … too done … to even move.

"Jane?" The worry in Nihlus's voice stroked invisible fingers down the back of her neck. Someone believed in her. Someone had looked into the glowing implants behind her eyes and still knew it was her. His low rubble shivered through the steamy air. "I'm coming in unless you can answer me in some sort of complete, coherent sentence."

What did it matter?

The door opened, and a long, whistling sigh preceded the torin over the threshold. "Yeah, that's about what I thought." Nihlus crouched beside her and ran a hand over her hair. "Been a hell of a couple of days." He twisted around; she could just see his boots rotate on the white floor tile. A moment later, he lowered himself to sit next to her, his fully clothed legs stretched out in front of him.

Another low, almost purring sigh rolled over her. "We spend far too much time on bathroom floors, you and I." He produced her shampoo, popped the cap and squeezed some straight onto her head. "You know, hair seems like a lot of trouble. It's always in the way, gets full of filth, and … it's just weird." His talons massaged her head a little, then he chuffed. "Hm. Feels nice though. Sorta silky, like tussat tassels."

As Nihlus played with her hair, scrubbing here and there, then swirling his talons to make spikes and whorls, she eased around to lean against his side. He felt warm and solid, the only real thing in the entire galaxy.

"All right, being able to sculpt it is fun," he said, finishing a line of spikes down the center of her head. "You look like a one of those lizard things I saw in an Earth museum once."

"A dinosaur?" Shepard shifted the rest of the way, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked up into his eyes, soaking up all the confidence and belief she saw there. When he smiled, a flutter of mandibles, she rested her head against the breast of his tunic. "I'm so tired, Nihlus. I've been so very tired for the last month. I think half of me got left behind when they dragged me back."

A knuckle pressed gently under her chin, tilting her head back. "Close your eyes," he said, shielding her eyes even so, the side of his hand pressed against her brow. He rinsed the soap from her hair with gentle talons then bent down to nuzzle the top of her head. "Did you get clean at all?" he asked, gathering her into his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head.

Shepard just shook her head and leaned into him. The pressure of his arms and side helped ease the pain down to a dull ache. She plucked at the soaking material of his heavy tunic with the fingers of her one hand. "Probably going to get cleaner than you under all this," she said, trying for levity.

Nihlus ran the pad of his talon alongside a deep fissure that spiraled around her shoulder, a fractal covering the entire joint and down her shoulder blade. "Does it hurt you to wash?" He lifted his head to look down her back. "Damn, those wounds are everywhere, aren't they." A soft keen threaded through the words. "What are they from?" His thumb talon caressed her arm, sweeping along between two long canyons. "Does this hurt?"

Shepard shook her head and leaned in tighter. "It feels good." She closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. "As for the wounds … they hurt all the time. Sometimes it's an ache that I can't ease no matter how I sit or lie … no matter what I wear or how I adjust my clothes. Sometimes it's raw and burning." She tilted her face into the water. "Showers mostly, and when I spray them with the antibacterial and sealant. And then, sometimes it feels like being eaten alive by varren." She shrugged. "Miranda says they're because my flesh is as ornery as the rest of me and refuses to grow over the cybernetics."

She slid one arm from between them and wrapped it around his waist. "They had to wake me up six months early … the base was under attack. I refused to let them put me back under, even though sometimes I wish I had."

Nihlus released her and started to get up, but Shepard grabbed his arm. "Not yet, please." When he lowered himself back onto the tile, she stared into his eyes, searching for truth beyond the kindness, even beyond the love she knew he felt. "They should have just left me alone," she whispered, the words drifting like autumn leaves from the hollow place that howled inside her. The moment they hit the air, they turned to ash and dust. "Why didn't they just leave me alone?"

Nihlus's large hands cupped either side of her face. The rasp of his calloused palms burned against her cheeks, but the pain anchored her, cutting through the mess brewing inside her skull. He arched a brow plate. "I'm going to just say this once, so I really want you to listen to me, Jane." He pressed his mouth to her forehead for a moment before pulling back to meet her stare again. "We need you. That's why they did it." He shrugged and shook his head, a helpless, lonely sort of gesture. "The entire galaxy needs you."

Shepard reached up to grip his wrists, her smile sour and slow. "You don't need me, Nihlus. Look at all this. You guys did this without me. All of it." Blowing a quick puff of air out her nose, she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. "You would be fine."

His grip tightened, the pain startling her and snapping her stare straight back to his eyes. "We'd be dead, Jane." His brow plates jumped toward his fringe. "Are you forgetting what you walked into here? Before your one woman wrecking crew showed up, we had maybe twelve hours left to live, and I'm not exaggerating that. All of us, myself … Garrus … the kid … we'd all be corpses on the floor."

As she looked into those … what had she called them that first day during her schoolgirl crush moment? … piercing green eyes, she saw unfettered, unembellished, unabashed truth. One corner of her mouth tweaked a little. "Okay, so maybe not entirely fine."

Nihlus grinned and nuzzled the end of her nose. "Not at all." He nodded toward the stream of water. "You able to take it from here?"

Slipping from his grip, she shifted around onto her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Yeah, I've reached my pathetic quota for the day." She held him tight, a thin sliver of guilt stabbing into her. "I'm so sorry, Nihlus."

He held her gingerly. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Jane. Nothing." He nuzzled her ear. "Come on, up you get. Scrub the filth off, then let's get upstairs, and you can sleep while the doctor pokes you with her omnitool." He chuffed. "Why does she do that, anyway? It's not like poking us with it makes it work any better."

Shepard chuckled, quiet mirth welling up through the weariness, a bright spark. She drew back and kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered against his mouth before pulling away. Running a hand over his head, she said, "You know … having a fringe just seems weird, and I can't even sculpt it."

A wide grin and resigned head shake answered her teasing. Standing, Nihlus reached down for her hands, and pulled her up. One finger brushed her cheek, softer than an autumn rain but just as sweet and full of regret, then he turned and strode out.

Feeling lighter if not less exhausted, Shepard made quick work of cleaning off the built up grime, patted herself dry and wrapped the towel around herself before heading back out into the main room. She blinked a little, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer, red-tinted illumination. Her armour all sat piled, clean and shining, at the foot of his bed, and a pair of sweats and a t-shirt graced the corner of the mattress. He sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, a datapad glowing in his hand.

"Wow, look at all this. Who knew you had a caretaker in there? And a speedy one at that," she teased, bending to find her belt amidst her armour. Retrieving her antibiotic spray and sealant, she held them up. "Give me a hand?"

Nihlus kicked his feet off the table and stood, letting the datapad fall behind him on the couch. "Sure, what can I do?"

Shepard set the towel aside and sprayed the antiseptic down her front. "It needs to be sprayed just on the crevasses." She held out the bottle. "Please?"

He sat on the end of the bed and tugged her over between his knees. "I can probably handle this dangerous and skill taxing assignment." He sprayed her one shoulder, squinting, his mandibles held slightly spread and rigid, his concentration belying his teasing about the task being a simple one. "So, I thought humans were all uptight about being naked in front of … well, pretty much anyone."

Shepard shrugged. "That doesn't last very long in the military. You change and shower where and when you can." She chuckled. "Although, I did shower in my bra and panties for about the first year."

He hissed softly between his teeth when he moved to the backs of her legs. "How do you wear armour with these wounds?" A soft, distressed rumbled rolled through his second larynx. "Spirits, Jane, I could lose a talon in the ones on your thighs." A gentle hand wrapped around her waist just above her hip.

"Painkillers," she said simply. She glanced back when the cool mist stopped hitting her skin. "Done with that one?" She took it, then passed him the sealant. "This one is really important to just get on the wounds, or I end up feeling like a Barbie doll all day."

"A what?" he asked, his brow plates drawing down tight over his eyes.

"Barbie is a plastic human-female-shaped doll made for little girls to dress up."

Drawing his head back, Nihlus chuffed softly. "Somethings are universal." He cleared his throat. "I had a doll as a perir. His name was Aurin Plavidus, a very noble name, I thought. My pari used to make me little sets of armour for him out of scrap … the most beautiful, intricate … ." He trailed off, then shrugged. "I still have him, and all his armours, back in storage on Ilium." He sighed. "I should go pick all that up some day. Anyway, I'd dress him up and take him into glorious battle on the back of the excavator while my pari worked."

Shepard grinned. "I turned all my Barbies into pirates and astronauts, cowboys and soldiers. It drove my mother insane. I swear she had Bunny just to raise a girl." A sad smile barely bloomed before it wilted.

"Here," Nihlus said, passing her the sealant. "All done back here." A perplexed frown met her questioning stare. "Although, having seen your … what do you call it ... your backside? ... several times now … I have to ask … ."

Shepard's trap alert began to ping at the base of her skull, and one eyebrow headed for her hairline as she crossed her arms. "Go ahead." The smirk on his face told her that she was walking into it, but still … .

"Does it come in adult size?" He stared at her, mandibles twitching. She punched him in the shoulder hard enough to lay him back, and his inordinately pleased, teasing laughter lit up the room.

"Har. Har. Go ahead, smart ass, laugh it up." Shepard hid her grin and shook her head. "I knew that was coming." She started spraying her front. "You think you're so clever." Finishing up her treatment as he chortled away to himself, she just let the easy camaraderie flow over and through her. Two years ago, she never could have imagined being so completely at ease with him, but the Spectre had changed … settled. Garrus had been good for him.

Anderson's words barked through her thoughts as she reached for the blue t-shirt emblazoned with the stylized golden wings on the left shoulder.

"And how much have you had to drink?"

Questions lined up, pushing at the backs of her teeth, but she swallowed them. She could ask Nihlus about that later. She dressed in the t-shirt and sweat pants, then put the first two bottles away and pulled out a third and a mirror.

"What's this now?" he asked, sitting up. He took the bottle from her hand when she held it up and looked at the label. "I don't read human common."

"It's just the sealant. I can't spray it on my face." She chuckled and climbed up to sit cross-legged on the bed. "What if I accidentally sprayed it in my eyes or nostrils?" Bouncing a little, she looked down. "Damn, turian beds are nice. There's got to be forty centimetres of mem-cel here."

He turned around to sit cross-legged facing her. "It's the cowls. We need a lot of depth to get proper spinal alignment." He opened the cap on the sealant and squeezed some out onto the pad of his talon. "Lean in here."

She did as he said, her mind still on the bed. "Blessed Enkindlers, Garrus must have been in agony sleeping on the bed in the captain's quarters on the Normandy. That thing made me ache after a couple of hours."

Nihlus nodded and spread the clear ointment over the rents covering her face. "He started each day with a limp that whole last month chasing Saren."

Sadness clung to that thought. "I never knew," she whispered.

"Of course you didn't." He screwed his face up as he followed the convoluted lines of scarring. "He got up early to work the kinks out so that you wouldn't."

"I don't blame him, you know," she blurted out, her thoughts flipping at light speed. After everything Garrus suffered through, she didn't want Nihlus to think that she harboured any resentment for his rejection. "Same with Anderson." The air burrowed down into her lungs, sneaking out with her words, making them breathy-sounding, as if she'd been running. Her heart fluttered, rather than taking a full beat as he stared into her eyes, his attention almost daunting.

"I mean, it hurts, but how can I blame them for being suspicious?" She shrugged then planted her elbows on her thighs, leaning close and tilting her face up. "Archangel has been under attack for what … a week? Betrayal, traps, and attack coming at you from everywhere. And then, here I come … dead Shepard to the rescue."

His mandibles fluttered as he squeezed more of the sealant onto the pad of his first talon. "Dead Shepard?" His chuckle teased her face into a reluctant smile. "You going to make that official?"

Despite herself, Shepard laughed, the sound letting off a release valve. Rocking forward, she reached out and shoved him. "Might as well. Maybe as my middle name. Jane 'Dead' Shepard." Pressing her lips into a considering scowl, she nodded. "I like it."

Nihlus shrugged and spread the sealant along the crack under her right cheekbone. "I don't know. I like it as a first name. If you're going to own it … own it." He finished applying the sealant. "All right. You're ready to face the galaxy."

She scoffed. "Ready to face the galaxy." Shepard opened the small mirror and held it up to look at herself. "I don't even recognize myself; how are they supposed to?" She ran a finger across the bridge of her nose and across her cheekbone. "And they're right … no freckles … no scars … I'm just a cheap knock off."

Nihlus snatched the mirror from her hand and snapped it closed. "Losing the scars might just let you move past leaning on that crutch, and as for the freckles … ." He chuffed and swung off the bed onto his feet. "I don't know. I always thought your face was a little busy. How do you concentrate on someone's eyes with all those spots everywhere?" He shuddered. "It's weirder than the hair."

A small, strangled sound … half-sob, half-laugh … clambered past the sudden rockslide in her throat. Damn. Scrambling up onto her feet, she stood on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

"Okay, come on," he said, his voice soft and rolling. "Let's go provide the rest of them with proof." He tossed the tube onto the bed, then picked her up, long arms supporting her backside, and carried her to the door. "I need to document this … the great Captain Shepard being carried without protest." He set her down at the threshold then returned to the bed for her sweatshirt. "Put your boots on. I don't know if you noticed, but this place is a mess right now."

She slipped her bare feet into her boots then shrugged into the hoodie and zipped it up before heading out. Even in the short time they'd been in Nihlus's apartment, the cleaning crews had performed miracles, getting most of the lobby and first floor back to normal, if bullet-riddled walls could be called normal.

Miranda strode up to them as they turned toward the elevator, greeting them with a curt nod. "Captain … Spectre Kryik." She passed Nihlus a datapad. "Half the departments have reported in with their repair estimates. Most of the damage was restricted to the exterior of the base and, of course, the sublevels. Buildings two and three sustained minimal exterior damage. Body disposal crews are working in the sublevels and across the bridge. Three more crews are expected to report in within the next eight hours."

Shepard's eyebrows lifted, her earlier anger replaced by admiration for Miranda's thoroughness and willingness to work so hard for people she didn't even know.

Miranda continued, "The effects of Archangel personnel who perished in the fighting are being boxed up. A list of the deceased is enclosed in my report." She let out a long breath and backed up a step. "Relatives are beginning to call. I assigned half the accounting department to answering calls, but I left issuing official condolences to you or General Vakarian."

"Excellent work, Operative Lawson, thank you." Nihlus stepped back and activated the datapad.

The operative nodded in reply then turned to Shepard. "Captain, the team is aboard the SR2. Dr. Eis signed off their mission-end health reports, citing nothing more serious than bullet grazes and exhaustion. Yeoman Chambers purchased pizza and beer to feed them, which was greeted with far more enthusiasm than my proposed menu of steamed fish, legumes, and salad. Commander Javik refused to comment on his food preferences."

Shepard chuckled and shook her head. "Don't take it personally, Miranda. The team needs comfort more than nutrition at the moment. You can crack down on our eating habits in a couple of days." When the elevator opened, Shepard gave the operative a weary smile. "And Javik has forty years of paranoia to work through. Just stock precooked fish and fruit—nothing citrus—for him. Frozen or canned will do. Just leave instructions for the can opener and the microwave somewhere he can find them."

Taking note of the dark circles under the operative's eyes and the increasingly colourful mark spreading across her face, Shepard said, "When you wrap up whatever you're doing for Archangel … get some rest. Eat some pizza. Relax a little. It's going to get a lot worse from here."

She followed Nihlus into the carriage. "I'll make it an order if I need to," she said, the doors closing before Miranda could reply.

"Commander Javik?" Nihlus asked when the carriage started to rise. "The one in the unusual armour?"

Shepard grinned. "You're not going to believe me."

Crossing his arms and cocking a hip, he challenged her without saying a word.

"Okay, but you aren't." She stepped up to the door, her eyes on the controls as the numbers climbed. "He's Prothean."

"Prothean?"

She grinned. "I told you—"

"Now, wait!" he protested. "Give me a minute or two to process before you start your gloating dance." He chuffed. "It's a particularly ugly dance." After a second, he stepped up beside her, his entire body vibrating and rigid. "Wait … a … second … Javik? That Javik? The … ?" When Shepard nodded, he rumbled low and threatening. "It's a wonder Tashac didn't insist that you disembowel him. Where did he come from?"

Shepard chuckled. "Who says she didn't? And he came out of a stasis pod excavated from that cave-in on Eden Prime. Cerberus stole him. He was still in stasis when I got aboard the SR2." She cast a quick glance at him out of the corner of her eyes. "I figured we could use the help of a live Prothean."

The elevator doors opened to reveal a much quieter hospital floor. A few patients slept in beds and cots along the sides of the hallway, but for the most part, they'd been moved to rooms. Dr. Chakwas stood in a huddle of nursing personnel going over a very full board of patients. Looking up and seeing Shepard, the doctor gestured toward a room in the corner.

Shepard walked through the door into a small room with a medical bed and full bank of equipment along one wall. She stopped at the side of the bed, staring, daunted by the waist-high surface. Turning around, she held out her arms, and pitched her voice into a high, helpless, childlike plea. "Lift me?"

Nihlus gripped her waist and popped her up onto the table without any effort, but grumbled about not having video evidence yet again. "Lazy." His mandibles snapped, daring her to argue. She didn't. He had the right of it, but her weariness had driven all the 'give a fuck' out of her.

Shepard didn't have time to form a snarky comeback before the doctor strode into the room. "Lie back," Chakwas said, her tone warm despite its usual, brisk efficiency. She raised the head of the bed, then walked over to a metal unit in the corner.

"How did they get you off the Normandy, Doc?" Shepard asked, stretching out, a decadent groan celebrating the glorious state of horizontality.

The doctor unfolded a blanket and spread it over the captain. "I still accompany the Normandy when she ships out on missions, but the labs here allow me to conduct important research." She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Comfortable?"

Shepard pulled the heated blanket up to her chin and let out a happy moan. "I hurt everywhere, but lying down … heat … . Sweet baby Jesus, Doc … just glorious."

"Good." She activated her omnitool and tapped the interface, bringing up a large holographic projection over the bed.

Shepard squirmed a little as she eyeballed the complicated series of screens and readouts. "Ah, Doc … what is that thing? I don't have any bullets to rip out of me, but I do have a lot of metal these days."

Chakwas chuckled, but remained focused on her omnitool. "It's one of Mordin's creations, and don't worry, it will only be taking scans. No ripping will be involved." She closed the interface and patted Shepard's shoulder. "Just relax and get some sleep. I'm going to take a few tissue samples, and then the scans will take about an hour."

Shepard took a deep breath and let herself relax down into the mattress. "I think I can handle that." She jumped up to lean on one elbow when Nihlus stood. Hammering against the inside of her ribs, her heart threatened a panic attack and tears if the Spectre left her alone. Alone had once been her thing, but right then, right there, alone felt like an endless hole yawning below her. "You're not leaving?"

Nihlus slid his chair over to face the head of the bed and looked up at the doctor. "I won't interfere with the test results if I sit under this thing with her?"

Chakwas just shook her head and closed her omnitool. "I need you to just look straight at the ceiling, Captain. I'm going to use a very fine laser to harvest a few cells from the edge of the lens in your eye."

The smile that Shepard managed to bully onto her face felt strained. "Shooting lasers into my eyes, sure … that sounds awesome." She let out a shaky breath, her smile loosening a little as Nihlus took her hand between both of his. Her eyes slid closed for a moment as she savoured the rough, hard, warm … gentle contact. She'd forgotten that as well. The nights that Garrus had held her nestled in against his chest while he read to her, one hand always caressing her, soothing her to sleep.

"Shepard?"

The captain opened her eyes, quickly blinking away the burn of threatened tears. "Sorry, Doc. Laser away."

The procedure took only a second and didn't hurt in the slightest. The second one, to steal one of her oocytes, took a little longer and hurt considerably more, but then it too, ended.

"I'll be back when the scans are complete," Chakwas said. She walked to the door and dimmed the lights. "Get some rest, Captain."

When the door closed behind Chakwas, Shepard looked up at Nihlus. "Thanks."

He just nodded and turned his side into the bed a little. Shepard rested her head in the curve of his shoulder, then stared up into the holographic maelstrom, waiting for some sort of alarm to start screaming. When nothing happened, she closed her eyes and let sleep coax her with its siren melody.

Comfortable and thick, silence settled around them, her sleepy thoughts wandering back through the day. "What did Anderson mean when he asked about how much you'd had to drink?" she whispered, the quiet darkness lending itself to the question. She opened her eyes to find his closed.

"Functional drunk, I believe is the term," he answered, his subvocals rolling heavily despite his voice barely stirring the air. "Just go to sleep, Jane. It will keep. It will all keep."

§§§

Shepard started awake, her heart thumping hard and quick. Frowning, she leaned up a little, searching for the cause of her alarm. Darkness and quiet hung heavy and still, the air cool outside the covers. She took a deep breath, Nihlus's familiar desert and spice scent easing her back onto the mattress as it oriented her. The familiar rumble of snoring rolled over her shoulder and long arms wrapped around her, holding her against a turian-shaped heating unit. She lifted her arm to check her chrono. 0938.

How long had she been asleep? Lifting her head, she looked around the room. Nihlus's apartment. Had he carried her back? Damn, she hoped not. That was not an image she wanted imprinted on the Archangel personnel.

What had woken her up? A nightmare? She couldn't recall any images. Slipping a hand under her arm, she checked for sweat … nothing. So, not a nightmare. At least not one of the really terrible ones.

Someone pounded on the door, loud enough that Nihlus let out a couple of snorting breaths and lifted his head off the pillows. "What?" he asked, his voice low and thick with sleep.

"Someone's at the door." She rolled over onto her back and looked up at him. "A Spectre's work is never done."

A muttering grumble, heavy on the subvocals, answered her as he threw the blankets back and rolled over to sit on the side of the bed.

The banging returned, that time accompanied by the telltale sound of someone bypassing the lock. Shepard scowled and sat up. Where the hell had Nihlus put her guns? The door opened, bright light pouring in from the hallway, blinding her as a shadow stepped through.

She scrambled out from under the covers and crawled down the bed. Maybe her guns were with her armour.

"What in stinking pits of buratrum is this?"

Shepard froze at the sound of Garrus's voice. Rage, confusion, and disgust battered against her, the sheer force of it sitting her back on her heels. For breathless seconds, she stared into his eyes, the ice-blue of his glare closed to her. A sharp cough of disgust shattered the frozen silence, then he spun on his talons and stormed out the door.