Christmas Eve
Cold morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. Shepard stretched languidly, sprawled across Garrus.
"Someone slept well," Garrus commented.
"How could I not?" she asked, snuggling up against him.
"You're not having any more nightmares."
Shepard looked up at him, curious. It was still difficult to read turian expressions, but she could read Garrus. Not like a book; she hated books. She could read him like … like ….
Never mind. I can read him, that's all. And what she read now looked like barely-healed grief. She knew he had grieved for her since she'd first told him about Mindoir. What she hadn't known was how deeply it must have hurt him. That, he had hidden from her. He always tried to keep things easy for her. Which was impossible, given what they'd been dealing with over the past years … but Garrus never added to the load. Any time she looked to him, he would shoulder more than his fair portion of the burden, always trying to make it better for her.
"No more reason for nightmares," she told him, kissing him on the scar that rippled through his colony markings.