Two days they've spent on this tiny ship. It was such a short time. Compared to the long lives of the krogans, it's a mere blink that he'll likely not even recall one day. Worse yet, these days will be the memories etched into his mind so deeply that he'll remember them even after everything else is gone. Haunting him. Barely contextualized images playing on repeat at the corner of his eyes. The way Okeer's were. Grunt doesn't remember much about Okeer. At this point he really only has the implanted memories and one-sided conversations. Even with so little, he knew Okeer was haunted. Sometimes he would speak to Grunt as if he were someone else. Grunt never used to wonder who haunted Okeer. Now his mind never stops guessing. Were they lost children, clanmates, worthy warriors no longer around by the end? Heh, that last one was a contradiction. Those worthy of survival, do.

But what does that make his team then?

Aralakh company.

Every krogan on that team had years of experience on him, but none were the perfect example of their species. Not a single one of them had his training under Shepard.

"Grunt?" Shepard's voice is hollow as it floats down from the ladder to the second floor. She's perched herself up on the edge of that floor. Muscular legs tied through the metal bars. Her whole body balances on those legs as her arms, and stomach contort into impossible positions. Were human backs supposed to bend like that? How do her legs keep her upright when they're wrapped around the ladder like that? She's barely even sitting on the ledge of the floor. Once again she's buried herself into a part of the wall. Undoubtedly messing with wires only an engineer thinks about. "Grunt?" She calls out again not even bothering to try and peer out of her crook to see if he had come yet. What does she take him for, a deaf pyjack?

Bitterly he crosses his arms. Let her cry out then. If she's going to call for someone she should at least pay attention. Her neck ducks back further as she maneuvers her head out of the ship's innards. Didn't that hurt her? Orrin said her body would still be sore for a while after she could move again. It had already taken her body a long time to heal enough just for her to stand. Now, just a short handful of months later, Shepard's hard at work. The ship may be flying, but that's not enough. Not for Shepard. Honestly Grunt didn't think it would be this hard to take care of the commander.

In order for her to eat, he has to practically shoved plated food under her nose. Not to mention her sleep schedule is worse than a caffeinated salarian. Mordin may have had a tendency of staying up for thirty-two hours straight at least twice a week, but Shepard, she's so erratic it's impossible to keep track. Not to mention when she does finally rest it's always for some insanely short amount of time. Ten minutes here. An hour there. Even Orrin wasn't sure how much rest Shepard was actually getting. For a doctor she was pretty useless at keeping track of Shepard's needs.

Grunt rolls his eyes as Shepard straightens up. Her green eyes go wide, as fussy hair falls forth to cover them. With a jittery smile, she tosses her wrench down. Grunt watches it drop through the air. Metal against metal rings out with a sharp, shing, as it hits the floor and slides across. It stops right at the tip of his foot. Bored once more, Grunt looks back up.

Shepard pushes her hair back out of her face. Sweat droplets glisten against her skin. So she was in pain. Hah, of course. This ship was far too cold for anyone to be sweating like that, even a human. Grunt rubs at his eye with the palm of his left hand. If he points that out she'll claim it was just due all the work. How would he prove otherwise? Seriously, is this what Garrus had to deal with all that time? He should've paid more attention back on the Normandy. Maybe then he would have some tricks to fall back on for this.

"I'm sorry Grunt did I just wake you up?" No. Why did she even think that? Grunt lowers his hand and fixes Shepard with a look. No one could sleep with the racket she had been making. Not that he'd been trying. The bed were on the second floor. A floor which was blocked by the mighty commander once again deciding a small problem was "critical" and needed "immediate action". What will one frayed wire do?

"I wasn't asleep."

She cocks her head to the side, leaning forward with her arms dangly over her legs. Her right eyebrow rises, "then is there a reason you sound grumpy?"

A growl escapes him before Grunt could stop it. Cutting it short, Grunt looks away. His eyes run over the small kitchen area, under the second floor beds. Orrin blinks several times in quick succession as their eyes meet. "No."

"Uh huh." Her expression gave away her thoughts. Grunt could practically hear her say, 'well that's a fucking lie'. Shepard unhooks her legs from the ladder. Grunt raises his arms up to her as he shambles over. Her head snaps to attention as the wrench skits across the ground. He must have hit it with his foot. The tool stops skidding as it lands wedged between the fridge and the floor. Orrin jumps away from the stove top at the sound. What was she cooking? Whatever it is, it smells sweet. He'll have to ask for some later.

Slowly, almost perfectly in sync with the creak of the ship, Shepard turns her attention back on him. "I can get down by myself Grunt." Yeah of course she could. Grunt opens and closes his hands. In human videos this was a sign for two things. Either a child wanted to be carried, or a taller being, offering a shorter one their arms to help them down. Which he meant was clear. So why was Shepard taking so long? Maybe he doesn't understand how to take care of her, but this much was doable.

Shepard involuntarily smiles at the sight of him. In a flash she's hidden the grin behind a spurious frown. Grunt moves closer. He'll climb up onto the ladder and pull her down himself, if he has too. No one is more stubborn than a krogan. She must know that. From her sore, bandaged sides, to the way her legs had wounds that would occasionally bust open, not to forget the questionable amount of sleep she may or may not have gotten. Shepard needed help, if she admits it or not. Grunt has every reason not to budge. Not even mighty Commander Shepard will win this one.

With a begrudging sigh she concedes. Slipping off the ladder, Shepard lands safely in Grunt's arms. He's careful to hold her up under her armpits. They were the least sensitive part of her body right now. Well she was ticklish there. It was some kind of human thing. Orrin hadn't even tried to explain the concept to him, and Shepard's eyes became real big right after she had mentioned it the first time he picked her up by them. Immediately she had gone back on the statement. Grunt dropped it. Whatever ticklish meant it wasn't a kind of wound.

The first time she had squirmed and blushed. Now Shepard crosses her arms with an indignant expression on her face, but otherwise doesn't react. He's still careful. Her stillness makes it easier for him to carry her over to the pilot's chair towards the front. It spins like the one on the Normandy. So does the co-pilot's seat. Unlike Joker's chair, they don't lean back. The two were curved, with the top and bottom of the back of the seats going rigidly up. The curve was meant to support a krogan's bump. Yet as Shepard leans back, the whole upper half of her body falls into the curve. Orrin makes a ticking sound. Sitting like that is apparently bad for humans. Fucks up their postures. Somehow. Grunt doesn't really see a problem with it. At least when she leans back like that it almost looks as if she might fall asleep.

Silently he hopes she does. Shepard claims the bags under her eyes are normal. That they were there from the saggy cheeks still healing. Her purple skin only looks worse next to the stitches Orrin had put over her cheeks to help them heal. Take that with her unwashed, constantly escaping hair and her fingers tapping out a song he doesn't know, well Grunt can admit that he doesn't know what sleep depravation looks like on humans. If he was asked he would describe Shepard right now as the answer.

Grunt has never opened a textbook. He's never had any need too. Everything used to be on the extranet, and so physical books weren't necessary for him to learn about what the tank had failed to explain. Now without the extranet down, he wishes he had some human textbooks around. Well not too many because then it would be annoying finding places for them. Plus the salarian would ask to borrow them and he'd say no. It would be a whole thing. Grunt just knows it. His gut agrees with him fully.

Just one textbook would be enough. One measly book that would explain how to take care of humans. It'd be pretty cool if there were also fun facts about dinosaurs in it. Plus sharks. A pyjack's hide, he never saw a shark! More then a month on Earth and he never made it there! Blast it all! Next time he'll go. When he does Shepard will come with. She could watch him eat a whole jellyfish. Would they taste like hanar?

"What are you thinking about Grunt?" She was fully in the curve of the chair now. Her body was nestled inside it as her legs lay curved, along the edge of the seat. Her feet tucked right behind the left armrest. Shepard really likes to fold in on herself when sleeping. Was that a human thing, or just a Shepard one? "Your face is all scrunched up. Even more so then is normal for krogan." She yawns before stretching her hand over to the deck. The fuel gage sits at nearly full. It's barely move a centimeter. That doesn't stop Shepard from checking it every few hours.

This ship was made bulky, and able to store a ton of fuel to move long distances. Just like his people. "I'm thinking about where we should look first."

"Liar." Shepard sits up a little straighter. No! She won't fall asleep if she gets up. Grunt leans closer, now on the edge of his seat. "You do this thing where you nod right after telling a lie. It's a small nod, but it gives you away nevertheless." Calloused fingers brush over his nose. Subconsciously he pushes his face back into her hand.

"When was the last time you slept?"

There's a shift in the air. Eyes narrowing, her tone betrays her suspicion. "A few hours ago. Why?"

"You look tired." No point in lying now. Ugh. Subterfuge was a salarian tactic. One he finds himself relying on too often now. He's been lying a lot lately. At least once a day since Shepard woke up. Most of the lies were small things. He's fine. He doesn't want to talk now. Wrex ate the rest of the oranges. He ate a bit ago. Wrex lied. That he was sure the rest of the crew was still alive. Of course they'll make it to them. Little, tiny, white lies. All so Shepard would stay focused.

Grunt doesn't like lying. It feels wrong somehow. In a way it never did before when he used to tell white lies. Maybe because there were so many lately. Probably because they were all towards Shepard.

Shepard pulls her hand away, and Grunt grabs her wrist. He holds her wrist gently there, in the space between them. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep the ship going." Shepard allows her wrist to go limp in his hold. Grunt lets it go.

He's heard this before. "That's why you didn't sleep while fixing the ship."

"Grunt I'm the only engineer on this ship." Orrin scurries over with the wrench in hand. Shepard smiles gratefully at the doctor. With a limp wrist Shepard holds her hand out. Orrin hands the wrench over. The commander visibly relaxes as her palm closes around the cold metal tool. "Thanks Orrin." Orrin blinks quickly before smiling back at Shepard. Then she scurries away just like a mouse fleeing from a predator.

"It's a small crew." She wanted a small crew. "Better for quick searches and escapes." He quotes back at Shepard. He wanted at least two more krogan Shepard wanted it to just be the three of them. Was she changing her mind now?

"I know, but that means I have to be awake. Any moment a gear could pop off, or the wires spark. We could lose heat, or oxygen. I'm the only one who knows how to repair anything Grunt." Her exhausted eyes look down. For just a moment her eyelids close. They don't open for a few seconds and Grunt smiles. This was it!

Just as his hope began to soar green eyes fix themselves on him. Utterly dejected Shepard "I helped with some of it."

"I know, and it was a big help." He could already sense the but. That doesn't stop his confidence from plummeting as she says, "But it's not enough if we have an emergency. I need to be up and ready to go. I gotta stay ahead of it all before it's too late."

Makes sense. Still she should know a warrior can't remain in their best condition like this. If she continues even a feral varren could kill her. Wrex asked him to take care of her. How? He doesn't even know how to take care of a team. How do you take care of Shepard?

There's one answer. Fix the problems so she doesn't have too. "Then teach me."

"What?" She was sitting up a little more down. Grunt swallows down a slur of curses. Rest damn it. Instead he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he focuses entirely on Shepard again. "Teach me. A warrior should know how to manage a ship unless he wants to die."

Shepard doesn't laugh, but he can see a spirited gratefulness pass through her face. She looks as if a mountain has been pulled off her back. Even better yet, she sinks a little deeper into the chair again. "You're right." It's nice to hear. "You should know how to take care of a ship." The slight bob of her head looks very little like a nod. Shepard goes to rub her eyes. She stops herself, gently pulling her fingers away from right above her wounds. Did they hurt? "It wouldn't do you any good to end up stranded sometime during your life and not knowing at least the basics." Her hand holding the wrench reaches out for his face. Cold metal stings as it's pressed against the skin at the edge of his mouth. He doesn't flinch. A warrior never flinches.

"Yes." Grunt nods.

Shepard nods along with him. "Then we'll start right," Grunt says nothing as her yawns interrupt. "away." Gently he rests his hand on top of hers against his face.

How heavy were her eyelids now? It looks almost as if keeping them open was painful for her now. Please just rest.

Finally her eyes close. Slowly, he lowers her arm back over her stomach. The wrench still in her hands. Grunt holds his breath until a light snore escapes from her. Letting out a sigh of relief, the young krogan finally falls back into his own seat. The whole trip won't be like this, he promises himself. Once he learns how to help it'll get better. Grunt swerves his chair around towards the window. Tuchunka was behind them. Yet it was doubtless closer then any of the other planets in this sector. Two days they've been slowly floating through. He never thought he'd miss the mass effect relays.

"Chances are they aren't still out there. If they are someone else has found them." He's talking to the distant stars. They won't respond, but neither will the people Shepard's seeking. At least he could see his confidants. "But I'll get us out there, Shepard. At least for the chance to look." She won't give up on them. Just as she hadn't given up on living, and neither will he. Even if their goal is hopeless. If it turns out to be, then they'll decide on another goal. When they accomplish that one, then they'll find another.

Still a childish part of him hopes that he's wrong. It would be nice to see Liara again. She was really nice during Shepard's party.