Chapter 5 - Afraid to Fall

The first thing Garrus became aware of was the painful pounding of his head. His brain felt like slush as he tried to force his eyes open, but apparently his neurons were barely working this morning. He experimentally moved each one of his toes and fingers, then took a slow breath, which made a vein in his skull throb. Slowly, but surely, he began to register small feelings coming from his senses. He could feel the warmth of the thoroughly tangled sheets, the dryness of his mouth as he tried to swallow, and the scent of soap and citrus that reminded him so much of —

He almost literally flew out of the bed, staggering to his feet and using the ledge by the wall to support himself. He'd bumped his toe on the bedside table, but ignored the pain as he opened his eyes and shook his head. His vision was blurry and he could just make out the things in the room, though he couldn't place where he was. Shepard's scent was everywhere around him, teasing him ruthlessly, and he managed to stifle a groan as another bolt of pain ran through his skull. He struggled to remember what exactly happened the night before, though the residual effects of alcohol made that difficult.

He stretched his arms tentatively, popping the stiff joints, then looked down at his own body. His armour was completely gone, and all he had on was his clingy undersuit; he could do with a shower, both to clear up his head and get the sticky feeling off his plates. He closed his eyes and shook his head rapidly for a moment, then blinked a few times before looking up again. Thankfully his vision had cleared up a tad, and everything looked much sharper.

A brief glance around told him everything he needed to know. Though things were a little different here than the last time he'd been up, he was definitely in Shepard's cabin, though the owner was nowhere to be found apparently. He stiffened in place at the realization and a deep feeling of dread settled within him. What had he done last night? Had he...? No, he thought frantically, not even if he was drunk would he do something like that to Shepard, and she wouldn't let him either. Nevertheless, the feeling that he'd done something truly awful didn't leave him as he tried to find his balance. He took a few tentative steps forward, and, satisfied that he wouldn't fall over, started looking for his armour.

The room was darkened, which made it a little difficult to find his suit, and he trudged around in search of it. Eventually his foot clanged against something near her armour locker, and he looked down to see his armour piled neatly on the ground beside him. He definitely hadn't put it there; otherwise the plates would have been in a messy heap or scattered across the room. He stumbled backward a bit and nearly tripped on a cable, then managed to lower himself down into an awkward crouch to start putting his armour on.

He was in the middle of securing his upper armguards when she stirred, though he didn't hear her at first. There was rustling, and then a slight intake of breath, but he didn't notice until he heard his name.

"Garrus?" The shoulderplate in his hand fell to the ground with a clang as he spun around and got up way too quickly for his mind to process. She was sitting on the couch, dressed in clothing he recognized as her sleeping clothes. The shirt was sleeveless and bared a lot of her skin, and he tried his best to stop the flush of blue blood to his fringe, caused by a mixture of embarrassment and a touch of guilty arousal. She set the blanket clumped in her hand beside her, then ran the other hand through her hair in a futile effort to smooth it down. She looked like she always did when she woke up, and the image sent a wave of reminiscence and pain through him. Hair ruffled, eyes bleary and doe-like, and lips curved into a slight frown at being woken; Spirits, he'd missed seeing her like this.

He eventually managed to bring himself out of his reverie, just to stammer a few words out. "I - Shepard, I'm -" An odd look entered her eyes upon hearing his voice, which he didn't understand and desperately wished he did. It made the pit of anxiety in his stomach grow, and he mentally kicked himself again for getting so drunk last night. He was such an idiot.

He remained frozen in place for a moment longer, awkward tension stretching between the two of them, as he waited for her to say something, anything. She was looking him over, from the shoulderplate on the ground to the caught-in-the-headlights expression on his face. Eventually she got off the couch and stretched experimentally, and he took the opportunity to bolt. Without even thinking of his armour, he turned and headed up the stairs as fast as his still-inebriated mind would let him.

He managed to make it up just two of them before a firm grip on his arm pulled him back, and he went crashing back down, nearly falling on his ass. Another hand had shot out to hold him up though, and he was grateful for it. She spun him around to face her, then, and he met her eyes just for a moment before lowering them again.

"Where are you going?" she asked, in a rather demanding tone. He opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, trying to form the words, then sighed in defeat.

"I'm sorry, for... whatever I did last night. I -" She interrupted him with a hand against the scarred side of his face, bringing his face up. For a moment, he kept his eyes down, then finally found the courage to look up.

"You didn't do anything last night. Honestly, I should be the one apologizing here." Despite himself, he stared at her incredulously.

"Shepard, I don't know about you but I woke up this morning with a hangover and in my commanding officer's bed. That pretty much spells out stupid."

To his surprise, she sighed and let go of him, turning away. "It's not your fault, Garrus, really. I brought you up here after finding you in the main battery." His mandibles fell slack in surprise. Surely she was kidding, right?

"Uh... why?" was all he managed to say. She looked back up at him, looking a little sheepish.

"I don't know where you sleep on the ship, to be honest, and I wasn't about to leave you on the floor."

This time he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I, uh... well, thanks." He briefly considered telling her where his sleeping quarters were, but couldn't manage to think of words that didn't sound like he was propositioning her. An awkward silence fell between them, both waiting for the other to say something.

"Hey, I -" Garrus started, just as she said, "Listen, there's -" The both stopped and looked at each other, then laughed nervously.

"You first," she offered, stepping back a little. He swallowed and tilted his head by a miniscule amount.

"Just wanted to say that I... appreciate you looking out for me. Sorry for being a pain last night, it won't happen again. And," he chanced putting a hand on her upper arm gently, "I'll be watching your six, no matter what."

She stared at him as he pulled away, the look in her eyes both fathomless and foreign. He blinked a couple of times, but didn't back down from her gaze. She unconsciously bit the inside of her cheek, something she'd do when she wanted to say something but was thinking it through before opening her mouth, so he waited patiently for her reply.

Finally, she sighed. "There's something I need to ask you." She turned away and walked toward the fishtank, her posture solemn, while he stood on the spot, waiting. "What would you do if I died, Garrus?"

The question caught him off-guard, partly because he didn't really have an answer to that. He'd be a wreck, that was for sure, but that wasn't something he could tell her. Perhaps fill the void left by her with revenge, like he did for his squad, but that hardly seemed like a worthy action to honour Shepard. Maybe finish her fight for her; yes, that made the most sense, though he didn't know if he had it in him. He tilted his head in thought.

"I don't know," he admitted. She turned to look at him for a moment as silence fell between them.

"Hmm," was her reply. He didn't know if she was waiting for him to add more to his answer, but he remained quiet. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly, approaching him and stopping very close to him. "I really am."

"What for?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"For yesterday, for leaving," she turned away again so he couldn't see her face, then started speaking so rapidly he was reminded of Mordin, "it was the wrong decision, and I wish I could take it back, I really do. I thought maybe it would be the best for you, that it —" He held up a hand to stop her.

"You're telling me you ended it because it would be best for me?" he asked, incredulous. She nodded, then turned to face him again, jaw clenched. He couldn't help himself, he laughed. "Shepard, look, you don't have to make up things like this to make me feel better. You're entitled to do whatever you like." He ran a hand over his fringe, then rubbed the back of his neck again. "Just, don't do this, not out of pity, please."

Now she was biting her lip, which was confusing the hell out of him. He didn't know what that meant, and the rest of her face was twisted into an expression he couldn't read. He resisted the urge to sigh as he waited for her to reply.

"If anything, it's self-pity," she said quietly. He exhaled; he was too hung over to comprehend any of this, and he didn't trust that he was completely sober enough to do the right thing in this situation.

"Help me out here, Shepard. I don't know what you want," he muttered, slightly more exasperated than he meant. She looked at him sharply.

"What I want? What do you want, Garrus? Tell me." Her voice was soothing rather than harsh. He resisted the urge to shake his head; they really were no good at communicating off the battlefield. And anyway, what could he say to that? Telling her the truth would just make bigger issues between them right now, which was the last thing he wanted. He was frustrated at this whole situation; he just wanted to lock himself up in the main battery and try to get over her at his own pace. But nope, he'd gotten himself wasted and now he was stuck in this bizarre situation, where he couldn't figure out what Shepard was trying to say to him.

He merely shrugged in reply, in the end. He couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't break the tentative peace they currently held. It was the wrong answer though apparently, as he saw the muscles in her neck tense. Maybe she'd kick him out now? It would definitely be a welcome relief. Dead air hung between them as they stared at each other. He was relieved when she finally spoke again.

"I'll just put it all out in the open for you then. I made a mistake when I ended it. I thought it was the right thing, because I didn't know how you'd react if I ended up injured, or worse. But after last night..." he opened his mouth to speak, but she waved his question away with a hand before continuing. "It's not important. I just want to know, have I screwed this up too much to fix it?"

For the second time in less than a day, his mind went blank. She surely wasn't implying what he thought she was, right? He blinked a few times, then rubbed his temple with a covered talon.

"Shepard, don't do this if you don't mean it." His voice sounded weak, broken. He cursed at himself for it. She took a step toward him, then pulled his hand down from his face and took it in her own. He exhaled the breath he'd apparently been holding, and found the confidence to look at her. He could finally read her expression: a mix of sadness, regret, and hope. He'd never seen her so vulnerable.

"I mean it." She paused, then added, "this is as much for me as for you."

Perhaps it was the remnants of alcohol in his system, or perhaps the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on since last night. Either way, he quelled the self-deprecating thoughts in his mind, and breathed, finally breathed. None of this made any rational sense, but it all fit together perfectly subconsciously for him. He took a moment to look at her, memorize her, keep her for his own right then. She'd given him the opportunity to feel justice, passion, companionship, but most of all, love, and just being able to admit that to himself gave him the strength he needed to take what he wanted. He could finally let go.

And so he did. His skin felt sticky and his head was pounding, and she looked no better for wear, but none of those little things mattered right now. He pulled his hand out of hers and wrapped both hands around her waist, then pulled her against him and held her there, crushing her to his chest. She was completely relaxed in his arms, her body melding to his just as he remembered. The faintest sound of a whimper left her, and he pulled her impossibly tighter to him, refusing to ever let go this time.

No, he thought, he hadn't lost her yet. And he'd be damned if he let anything change that fact.

A/N: Annnnnd that's it! Posted the last chaper too because I'll surely forget otherwise. I hope you enjoyed this, even after the things I did to poor baby Garrus. Christina Perri owns the title, from her beautiful song A Thousand Years (which pretty much captures Garrus/Shep perfectly imo). Again, I'm looking for critique on this piece so I can improve further, so if you have the time I'd appreciate a PM or review, either or =) Lots of love, K.