Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Playlist: Cut - Plumb

Enjoy the Silence- Anberlin

This was originally a stand alone oneshot, but I deleted it and added it here. Fits better.

The whiskey sloshed around in its bottle as Shepard sprawled back on her bed. She glared nastily at the amber liquid. It pissed her off. Probably because it wasn't getting her as drunk as she had hoped, though there was also a high chance that she just wanted something to be angry with. Whatever shit Cerberus had stuffed her with was powerful. Shepard hadn't exactly been a lightweight before, but there was something wrong when it took ryncol to put her down. Dragging herself roughly off the bed, she took a few stumbling steps towards her desk and slammed the whiskey down next to her N7 helmet. Shepard leaned heavily against the cool metal side, contemplating the possibility that she was perhaps a tiny bit more inebriated than previously assumed. Or maybe the room always spun around like this. Either way, it was unpleasant. She slumped down against the desk, straightening her legs, then grabbed the alcohol as an afterthought and took a long swig. Shepard sighed heavily, frowning as her gaze found the fish tank. Something was wrong but she couldn't quite seem to put her finger on it. A second passed before it registered that the fish were gone. She furrowed her brows and studied the disturbingly empty water, searching for her missing fish. Starting at the bottom, her eyes drifted upward, eventually meeting several brightly colored bodies floating lifelessly. Shepard took another draft of whiskey and closed her eyes.

"Officer Vakarian is requesting entrance, Shepard."

Shepard started at EDI's voice, and the back of her head greeted the desk rather loudly. She scowled at the ceiling, vaguely wondering if a tank top and shorts passed for presentable two years in the future. Which was the present. Now she was confusing herself. Shepard decided to go with it; she had her doubts on whether she could actually manage to change her clothes without falling and cracking her skull open on the floor, anyway.

"Go ahead and let him in, EDI."

The door slid open with a decisive click. Shepard maintained her stare at the ceiling.

"Shepard, I just came to see..." Garrus's voice trailed off in distraction. Shepard was huddled against her desk, clutching a bottle of whiskey in a white-knuckled grasp. Her outfit was different as well, showing far more skin than he was used to, and more than he was entirely comfortable with.

"If I was alright?" She finished for him.

Garrus blinked, baffled. Shepard lolled her head at him and prompted, "You just came to see if I was alright?"

He hesitated, then took a step forward in her direction. The smell of alcohol was overpowering. "Are you? After what Kaidan said to you on Horizon, I can't imagine that you'd be happy."

Kaidan's accusing face loomed in front of her.

'Or maybe Cerberus is just using the threat of the Reapers to manipulate you.'

Shepard dropped her head into her knees, her voice muffled as she muttered, "Dammit, Garrus. I was trying to forget about that for a little bit. I'll have you know that you just ruined several minutes worth of drinking."

Stopping in front of her, he held out a taloned hand to help her up.

"Sorry, Shepard."

She placed the bottle on the ground, took a deep breath, and grudgingly pulled herself to her feet. She swayed about for a moment, until Garrus gently stabilized her. He kept his hand on her shoulder as he continued, "You didn't answer my question."

Blearily turning her eyes down and crossing her arms over her chest, Shepard replied, "I'm dealing with it."

Withdrawing his hand, Garrus regarded her intently. "By drinking?"

"We all handle our problems differently, Garrus. You kill a bunch of mercs. I get shitfaced and go on suicide missions." She pushed past him, making her unsteady way to the fish tank. Shepard glowered at it for a moment before moving to face the turian.

"That didn't turn out well for me. How badly will this turn out for you?"

Rebuked, she stared at him challengingly. Garrus held her gaze evenly. Two years ago, he would've quickly backed down. Now, Shepard was the one to drop her eyes.

She refused to look at him as she whispered, "Most of my squad died on Torfan. Ashley died on Virmire. I died." Her voice cracked as she continued, "Now I'm facing down death again, and I can't even see my family. I can't even tell them that I'm alive, because then I would have to tell them that I'm going to go chasing after things way above my pay grade and probably get myself killed. What Kaidan said...it's just one more thing. I can handle it."

Shepard turned to him, a bizarre wetness on her cheeks. Tears, humans called them. Garrus distantly remembered that they indicated sadness or great amusement. He really doubted it was the latter. He shifted awkwardly, unsure of the proper protocol when it came to comforting female humans. Garrus played with the thought of exiting hastily; Shepard was, after all, his commanding officer. He reluctantly disregarded the idea. She was also the only damn friend he had anymore.

Garrus took a step forward, arms open, imitating her actions in the main battery. He was certain that this was the same feeling he'd have if he were facing down a thresher maw without even his rifle. Thankfully, Shepard didn't spit acid at him. She leaned into him, her arms encircling his waist. Garrus shuddered and took a jerky breath as she brushed against the sensitive skin. Touching her in the main battery had been different; it was impulsive, instinctive. Not this awkward approach at doing something right.

He forced himself to relax and simply hold her. Her soft human body was very malleable, and her hair still had a pleasant flowery scent, even if the alcohol was noticeable. Lilac, she had called it. Shepard was taking gulping breaths of air against his shoulder and her whole form was shaking. Scrambling for some sense of what to do, Garrus recalled a scene from some human vid that he'd seen in his off time. He threaded his talons through her oddly textured hair, repeatedly stroking it as he rumbled soothingly. Shepard gradually quieted, her body going slack. He held her for a few more minutes, before realizing that she'd fallen asleep. Or passed out. He wasn't entirely sure. Considering his options, he decided the best thing to do was simply place her in the bed. Garrus scooped her up, ignoring her half-hearted protest as he strode down the stairs and across the room.

He rolled her onto the bed, softly drawing the covers over her. Shepard sighed quietly, unconsciously moving into the fetal position. Garrus gazed at her, wondering at the rare vulnerability. Her face was completely peaceful, and even the scars seemed to have faded. He delicately brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, then left the room, instructing EDI to turn off the lights as he left.

Review? Pleases?