Zaeed had compacted as much trash as he could find. He had compacted some old books he had been meaning to read, a shirt that didn't fit him any more and several empty whisky bottles. Pressing the button and watching all the old crap soar out into the cold depths of space was therapeutic, he thought. Right up until he began to wonder what it would be like to be spaced himself, and then remembering that Shepard had been. After that, he couldn't bring himself to trash anything else.

He sighed and lay back on his bedroll. The one good thing in his life, the first good thing for countless years, was Shepard. His only friend. After today, he wondered if he had lost that, too.

He wasn't prepared for her visit that night, in the early hours of the night cycle. The green light of the door opening and the hiss of the mechanism woke him, one hand shielding his eyes as he watched her silhouette step through the opening.

"You awake, Zaeed?"

She was quiet, hesitant. He could see she had come straight from her bed, dressed only in a tank top and shorts, her hair loose and messy around her shoulders.

"Yeah." He was wide awake now, sitting up and yawning.

"Can I come in?"

He chuckled hoarsely. "Given you're already in, that seems like a stupid question Shepard."

She sighed. "I meant, can I come in and talk?"

"Depends what you want to talk about," Zaeed said.

"I wanted to apologise again," she said, her voice tired and small. "Couldn't sleep, thinking about what you said."

"Sorry doesn't change anything, though, does it Shepard?"

"I want to change things, though, Zaeed. I'm not sorry I made the decision I did – fuck, there were so many people in there and they would have died badly. But I'm sorry you feel I don't care. I do care, Zaeed – perhaps more than I should," she paused, swallowed. "When this is all done, I swear to you we will find Vido and he'll be all yours."

"If we even live that long," Zaeed said, bitterly. "Don't want to piss on your fireworks, Shepard, but it all sounds like just words to me."

Shepard made a frustrated noise, and before he knew what was happening she was on her knees beside his bed, pressing her lips to his in a brief but forceful kiss.

"Don't know how else I can prove that you matter, Zaeed, if words aren't enough."

He froze, panic coursing through him at the very idea that she would touch him in that way. A muscle in his unmarked cheek twitched as he stared over her head, avoiding her gaze.

"Zaeed?"

He shook his head. "Don't."

He felt her lean into him, felt the heat of her skin against his arm.

"Don't what?"

"Don't pity me, goddamnit. Just find Vido. There's no need for," he waved an arm, breathed out hard, "all this."

"This isn't pity, Zaeed," she said, shifting closer. Too close. "I want to."

He wondered what she saw when she looked at him the way she was now. He couldn't remember the last time a woman really saw him, looked beyond the scars and the sourness. To think that this woman, of them all, was trying – well, it was impossible. She was not for him, she had to know that.

He closed his eyes, felt her breath against his lips. Felt his whole body shudder. Christ, this had to be a dream. It wasn't until he sensed her arms moving and heard the rustle of clothing that reality set in.

"Shepard, stop," he said, desperately.

"Huh?" Shepard sounded fuzzy, distracted.

He dared a glance at her, crouched beside his bed. Fuck, she'd taken off her tank top, he could see her bare shoulders in the dim light of the room. His mind was sent reeling, and he hurriedly looked away.

"I can't do this, Shepard. Please, get dressed."

There was a long, tense silence before he heard her put the top back on and get to her feet.

When she finally spoke, her voice was clipped, professional.

"I'm sorry, Zaeed. I misjudged. Can we forget this ever happened?"

No. "We can try."

She nodded once, brusquely. "Goodnight, Massani."

"'Night, Shepard."

She disappeared silently into the darkness as if she had never been there, in his room, at an ungodly hour. As if she hadn't been kneeling half-naked by his side with her lips hovering over his.

Fucking hell.

He didn't sleep again that night, his mind whirling with thoughts of Shepard. He'd often watch her in battle, wild and fierce, and think that he had never seen anyone or anything as beautiful in his life. He wanted her, Christ how he wanted her. He knew, though, that there was no way he could go through with it. She needed some reliable, good-hearted, unselfish man who could worship the ground she walked on. Some tall, dark, handsome fella who would sweep her off her feet and make her proud to be by his side. Someone like that stupid bastard on Horizon. They would look good together, he thought. Obviously had been, too, at some point. Made much more sense, even if he had turned out to be a stubborn, unworthy cur.

Even so. He couldn't stop remembering how she had looked tonight, skin dusky in the shadows of the room, the gleam in her eyes as she'd looked at him. The way her lips had felt against his, softer than he had imagined. He cursed and punched his pillow angrily.

It wouldn't have worked. He couldn't just fuck her and leave, he thought, he couldn't be with her the way he'd been with the other women who had passed through his life. With them, it was rutting in the dark, mechanical and cold. He would take them from behind so they couldn't see his face as he came. They may have had his body, the physical act, but never any more than that.

It was already too late for that with Shepard.

Goddamn it, what had he got himself into. He ought to go back to the Illusive Man, double the fucking credits he was being paid for this job. He'd expected to be risking his life, sure. He hadn't expected to be risking anything else.