December Twenty-third
Garrus was gentle. It had been a long time since they'd been together like this, but nothing could make him forget finding her after the final battle. The bluish cast to her skin, the lifelessness of her body when he had pulled it from the rubble. Blood and an oily something had coated half her face, and his sensitive hearing could pick up the sound of ribs grinding inside her chest, no matter how carefully he had tried to move her. He had thought she was done. The fear that had buried him then remained. He was beginning to think it might always be with him.
Now, even as she moved under him, he worried. He knew her ribs couldn't be quite healed yet. He knew she must be in some pain, but she'd never show it. He tried to be gentle.
But spirits, how he'd wanted her. And hearing her say that she wanted him ….
Well, how could he say no to his Shep?