Crack. Crack. Crack. Three bullets, three batarians sporting large perforations in their vital organs. She had to admit the turian was exceptionally skilled with that rifle of his. He hadn't said a word during the entire two-hour drive, but hopefully the plethora of targets along the road helped calm him down a little. She didn't exactly want to spend the night with a pissy enemy, just on the grounds that she was really hoping to get some sleep. God only knew when she'd gotten proper sleep last.

She hit the brakes as the road came to an end. The LZ was just a snow-covered field. She looked for the hangar and spotted its burned-out shell. Her heart sunk. Fuck. Looks like they came all this way for nothing. They…no, I'm…going to freeze to death out here. Her companion tapped her on the shoulder and gestured towards the treeline.

"Over there."

"Why the hell would I want to go over there?" She snapped, resisting the urge to swipe at him.

"Underground hangar."

She gave him an angry look.

"You never found it? Seriously?" He let out an exasperated snort, and she had the feeling, if he'd been in a better mood, he would have given her hell for her ignorance. "There's a hangar down there with communications and food and…"

"Fine, fine. We'll go over there. But if there's nothing over there, it's your fucking fault when we freeze to death."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The trek over was long, hard, and very cold. Snow had piled up to her waist in some areas, forcing her to rely on the turian's help if she stumbled into these snowy sinkholes. By the time they found the hangar, they were both drenched and exhausted, but their work was far from done.

The interior of the hangar was as dark as a cave and just as cold as outside, but without the wind. She highly doubted there was any running water; with the generators turned off to keep the base hidden, the hangar apparently hadn't had so much as power since before the war started. The turian immediately located a toolkit and got to work. He was currently tinkering with a control panel, his booted feet sticking out.

"Turians sure build things homey," she commented, glancing around the pitch-dark, concrete-and-steel structure.

"Shut up and go make a fire. The wood's over there." He stuck a hand out, pointing, then got back to work.

"Don't you people have stoves?"

"Well, we can use the power for food or we can use it for heat. The other two generators are broken and I can't fix them tonight. Personally, I'd rather be hungry than dead." He snapped.

She scowled at his feet and considered telling him to go fuck himself, but she didn't think antagonizing him further would be the best of ideas. They were both cold, hungry, tired, and grieving, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep next to a pissed-off enemy combatant whom she'd already stabbed. She gathered the wood from the indicated corner and built a small fire in the middle of the hangar. He joined her and sat down on the other side of the fire.

"The heater's working again, but it's going to take a while to warm up the entire hangar." He commented.

"Fantastic. So if we don't die of hypothermia now, we'll be warm tomorrow."

He stared blankly into the flames, not responding. He had the look of someone who had not slept for a week, and she figured he must be utterly wiped out. She fell into silence as well, a silence which didn't break until the last morsels of the MREs had vanished down their respective throats. She took a swig of water from her canteen and cleared her throat, aware that the truce that they'd had earlier no longer applied.

"What happens now?"

He started and looked up at her. "Well, we could try to kill each other now, but we're currently in danger of being discovered by batarians and/or freezing to death. Or we could wait until tomorrow and I can switch the power over to the communications array. Then you could comm your people, and I could comm mine, and we would wait to see who shows up first."

"If my people show up first, you're my prisoner and…vice versa?"

"What?" He gave her a look that might have been confusion.

"The other way around?" She clarified. Goddamned translation barriers…

"Yeah, pretty much."

I can always kill him later, she reasoned. Besides, the turian was a lot better at repairs than her, and if the batarians found them, she'd need all help she could get to fend them off.

"Deal."

"We should get some sleep." He stood up and moved off.

Using 'we' again, she thought. We're not partners. To hell with it. His overreaching trust would make him easier to catch unawares when the time came. She shifted, grimacing. Her wet clothes were clammy and stuck to her skin; she'd long since shed her soaked parka, but her uniform wasn't much drier.

The turian, however, didn't seem bothered by this. He returned with a foam mat and a rolled sleeping bag, laying both out by the fire. He made a few adjustments, then turned to her.

"Strip."

What? She gaped at him, shocked. The fuck kind of request was that? Did he get off on watching humans run around naked? "No way."

"That bag is dry, and I'm going to keep it that way. I'm not letting you into my bag when you're soaking wet. If you want to sleep in wet clothes, fine. Just don't come crying to me when you get hypothermia."

Shepard closed her mouth. Any moisture in the bag would be very difficult to get out again, and it was imperative that they both get warm and dry ASAP. "You're letting me sleep in your bag."

"Two are warmer than one," he said, shrugging off his shirt. "I personally don't feel like freezing to death." He stripped off his pants, then his briefs with no hesitation right in front of her, baring his body to her gaze. She hastily looked away and divested herself of her own pants and shirt as he climbed into the bag, drawing the line at her underwear. She walked over and caught the edge of the bag, but the turian yanked it from her grasp.

"All of it. Off." He growled.

"No! Let me in!" She snapped, furiously rubbing her arms in an attempt to stay warm.

He let out an oath, scrambled out of the bag, and stood up, towering over her. She held her ground, but her heart pounded against her ribcage. Snarling something about prudes, he vanished into the dark, returning moments later with a rough blanket.

"Here," he snapped, shoving it into her arms. "Satisfied?" Without waiting for an answer, he climbed back into the bag, turning away from her. Fuming, she pulled off her underwear and wrapped the blanket around herself, then climbed in after him and zipped the bag shut. She had to stifle a gasp.

Holy god, was he warm.

His body radiated heat like a miniature sun. She pressed close to him, heedless of the hard plates that dug into her sore body. He grunted and pulled away.

"Spirits, you're frigid." He complained.

Bastard, she thought. Then again, he had been unnecessarily kind to her. He hadn't needed to go get that blanket for her, hadn't needed to let her into his sleeping bag at all. He could have just let her die of hypothermia, because she sure as hell didn't have the body heat right now to ward it off by herself. She supposed she owed him at least some appreciation.

"Thanks for the blanket," she offered grudgingly.

"Welcome. Now shut up. I'm trying to sleep."

She rolled over, turning her back to his, closed her eyes, and tried to find some semblance of rest.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

A/N: Hope you guys liked it. I tried to mimic the banter between Shepard and Garrus on the Normandy; funny, but with a sarcastic twist, given the situation.

Hopefully more coming soon, and as always, I appreciate any and all attention this gets.