The hum of the ship filled the resulting silence, while Garrus and Shepard both tried to get their shit together before either of them started talking.

Garrus tested his ability to form words silently, keeping his eyes trained on the woman in front of him, while Shepard kept her gaze locked on the shards of glass that littered the floor.

"Since when do you drink Ryncol?"

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Since I got replaced. "I've been drinking it for a while."

She didn't respond to that, and he watched as one of her hands clenched around the fabric at her thigh.

More silence.

He risked a look at her face, happy to realize she wasn't looking at him. It gave him free reign to openly stare, to examine.

She looked like she usually did, tired as hell. There same purple bruises remained beneath her eyes in swooping crescent shapes. She'd lost weight, making her soft face seem sharper, tougher. Her hair was still a mess, but she'd made the effort to tie it back with a band. Garrus peered quietly at the little tail of red hair knotted at the back of her head.

"You're staring."

He met her eyes. Still dull. He nodded, not trusting his voice or himself enough to lie to her.

She pursed her lips, and after a moment of quiet deliberation, spoke. "You do this often?"

"Stare at you?"

The corner of her mouth tugged up in a smirk. "No, drink Ryncol until you're utterly shitfaced."

Garrus shook his head, and with a slight struggle, managed to get onto his knees. He didn't care that the shards of glass were cutting into his skin. He got to his feet, albeit a bit unsteadily, and walked over to where he hid his stash of liquor. It was behind a gun console in need of repair. He slid out a smaller bottle of Turian liquor, not bothering to look for a glass.

"Only when I need to." He says, rejoining her on the floor beside her, closer than he was before. He popped the top and held his breath, hoping she didn't scoot away from him.

She didn't, and instead took the bottle from him to take a nice long sip.

Garrus watched as her throat moved, pulling the liquor down into her stomach. He was riveted when she pulled the bottle away from her lips with a barely audible pop.

"S'good." She said, nodding at the bottle appreciatively. "Authentic?"

He nodded. "Bought a bottle from the market last time we were at the Citadel."

"How much?"

"Too much." Garrus said, coughing up a chuckle. He threw her a look. "So I hope you're savoring it."

Her lips split wide in a natural smile, and Garrus marveled at how it seemed to transform her features. She looked younger, more vibrant.

Happier.

His gut clenched, making his throat burn in barely repressed nausea. How long had it been since he'd seen her smile?

He couldn't remember.

"Every last drop." She said, bringing the bottle back to her lips. His mandibles shifted in a Turian smirk, and his eyes focused on the gun consol in front of them. He was looking past it, past the ship and the people in it, past the wires and scraps of metal and technology. His mind was running wildly, gears twisting and turning a million ways each second. His eyes were focused on the stars surrounding them hoping, begging, for them to give him more moments like this.

"Garrus?"

His eyes snapped to hers, and he liked what he saw, around the corners of her irises was that telltale emerald green.

Baby steps.

"Hmm?" He looked at was she was offering, the liquor bottle gently pointed in his direction. He took it from her, loving the way her skin felt as his talons skimmed her fingers.

He took a small sip, he didn't want to risk getting sucked back into that drunken haze again. She was here, with him, and he was going to remember this moment.

He pulled the bottle away from his lips when she whispered, soft as a breeze, "I missed this."

You have no idea. "Me too Jane."

She coughed into her fist, and took the bottle back from him. He let her. She took a long sip, eyes slipping closed for a moment. He took that chance to tug a wayward strand of red hair back to where it belonged, trapped in her hair tie. When he pulled his hand back, her eyes were on him, and it took all he had not to look away.

They moved closer to each other, gaze still locked on one another, speaking without words.

"Garrus, I'm—"

He shook his head. You don't need to apologize Jane.

This time she shook her head. I've been treating you like utter shit, like I don't care and I- Her throat worked as she swallowed. I do Garrus. Her lips mashed into a line, eyes burning with what neither of them were willing to call tears. I was being selfish.

He stroked a talon down her cheek. It's okay Jane.

Her hands gripped his arms. No, no I fucked up. I knew I was hurting you, I knew what I was doing to you but I couldn't stop and now you're—

His three-taloned hand gripped her shoulder. He had both hands on her now, one stroking the side of her face while the other gripped her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. His eyes bored into hers.

I'm fine. He urged. I'm… I'm fine.

Her lips twisted in a grimace. Bullshit.

He stopped stoking her face, and moved his talons so that they were trapped in her russet locks. She leaned into his touch.

I'll be fine.

Her eyebrows pinched together, calm façade finally dissolving as her eyes seemed to burn with pain, with grief. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and cowl, back shaking.

"I'm not fine." She mumbled into his neck. "I'm not—"

"I know."

She gripped him, tight.

He responded in kind, pulling her to him so that she was in his lap. He crushed her to his chest shamelessly, but she didn't mind. She clutched him closer.

"Jane." He sighed, a harsh, rough gust of air. "Just… I'm here for you Jane. Whenever you want me, whenever you need me. I'll…" The words ripped from his chest, rubbing his throat raw as they left his mouth. He was laying himself bare; letting her see parts of himself he'd shown no one. He had to show her just how far he'd go to help her, to be there for her. Whatever she needed. He would go to any lengths for the woman he loved.

He fought to keep his feelings about her out of his eyes, though it nearly killed him. So when she leaned back to search them, she couldn't see how deep his feelings ran for her. Deeper than friendship, deeper than loyalty. He loved her more than anyone, needed her more than anything.

But she could never know.

She was looking at him like he was one of her guns she was trying to pick apart, trying to read between the lines. He swallowed thickly and fought to push the feelings back. This wasn't about him, wasn't about what he wanted or how he felt.

It was about her, and how he'd be damned if he became another burden for her to carry, another weakness.

"Garrus…"

If he told her, that's all he'd ever be, another glaring chink in her armor.

He'd face an army of Krogan for her. He'd storm into hell, into the unknown. For her. Whatever she needed.

"Whatever you need."

She burrowed closer to him once more, and he counted the number of breaths she took before they evened out in sleep.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but Garrus didn't sleep. Instead, he memorized her like this, unguarded and content and beautiful in sleep. All the worry lines and other wrinkles evened out with her breathing, and with a little hope, the bruises beneath her eyes would begin to fade.

This was as close to peace they were going to get, Garrus knew that, and he wasn't about to lose this moment sleeping. He was going to burn this into his mind, because when shit hit the fan, he'd need a happy memory, something pure and good and right to hold onto. He'd need this.

He gently bowed his head and nuzzled her hair, mirroring a human kiss. He took a deep breath, and exhaled shakily.

Half of him wanted to pray to the spirits, to fall on his knees and beg them for mercy.

But he knew better.

Because there's no mercy in war.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, I had a bit of trouble figuring out how to pick up after the previous chapter, and midterms did nothing to curb THE BLOCK.

But thanks for reading! Feel free to drop a review on your way out.