#My cat won't stop sleeping on my keyboard and so I wrote this in lieu of playing ME3LE

[skiitter]

"I love you, Garrus Vakarian."

It echoed like a gunshot in her head. The words were honeyed oil, viscous, insistent, easy. She'd said it because, high above the Presidium with the galaxy burning and the scent of ozone in the air, it was the only thing left to say. She loved him. It was a fact, a veritable force of nature; relentless and seemingly without end. The soft, vulnerable, beating center of her was wholly removed from the cavity of her chest and placed with ironclad trust into the palm of his three-fingered hand.

And Garrus Vakarian, sole anchor of her heart and absolute arbiter of her desires, did not say it back.

At first, she assumed it was a cultural miscommunication. Lord knows they'd had their fair share of those in the time they had spent together. Shepard didn't even think to question it, attributing his lack of reciprocation to the failures of their translators.

And then he said he loved Tali's omni-tool mod, and Liara's quick thinking, and Joker's sharp tongue, and the forceful way Javik demanded success. Without provocation, without restraint, the declaration so banal it was unnoticeable to anyone else. Suddenly, Shepard realized that Garrus knew exactly what it meant to love something. He understood with blatant clarity the human definition of the act and had chosen not to say it back.

Immediately, she wanted to ask him, to find out the objective truth of the matter. Only, between the war and the reapers and the waves of violent destruction, Shepard lacked the energy and conviction to do it. So instead, every bit the mechanical soldier she'd trained to be, Jane Shepard ate her feelings whole and let them fester with rot in total silence.

It worked surprisingly well, at least for a time. Despite the way it poisoned the well of her thoughts, it was still easy to speak to him. Garrus was her best friend, the person she relied upon most. He had her six, her back, and her best interests in mind. So what if he didn't say "I love you" back? She was a big girl. She was Commander fucking Shepard. The feather soft touch of his hand at her spine was enough.

And it was, all the way up until it wasn't.

An endless wave of Cerberus agents had them pinned against a crumbling wall, somewhere in the heart of a human colony. She is out of ammo, save for the last two rounds in her SMG and the situation is bleak no matter how you looked at it. All in all, a familiar if unwelcomed scenario.

"Not a great situation here, Shepard," Garrus said.

"Is it ever?"

His laugh strikes at the small, vulnerable points in her armor. Ever the marksman. "No, I guess not." The flanking engineer drops when Garrus shoots him between the eyes. "You never take me anywhere nice. And here I was, thinking you loved me."

Shepard pops around the corner to lob a stream of biotic energy at the approaching centurion. "Maybe I just got tired of waiting to hear it back."

Garrus frowns but the firefight overtakes them, and Shepard let's the topic drop.

He waits until they're safely back aboard the Normandy to respond. Guns clunk heavily into their containers as she offloads the small armory she carries around. Vega is chatting with Cortez nearby, arguing over the value of titanium vs. steel bullet casings. Shepard focuses on their conversation to shake the weight of Garrus' eyes on her.

Unfortunately for her, the two men leave before she can finish unloading her weaponry and the moment the elevator door slides shut, he attacks.

With a speed wholly incompatible with the bulk of his body, Garrus crowds her into the wall. "What was that back there?" he asks.

"What was what?" Shepard plays coy because the opportunity never presents itself and she's otherwise too direct not to seize the twisted reprieve. "Just the usual gunfight between us and the enemy, Garrus."

He growls, subvocals a low reminder of the predator he's descended from. "We both know that's not what I'm talking about."

She stares up at him, defiant in the face of his demand. "Well I can't imagine--"

"Did I miscommunicate something here, Shepard? Have I not made myself clear?"

Heat, drawn from a myriad of sources, burns her face. "You've made yourself perfectly clear, Garrus."

His hands clutch at the cloth of her uniform, threatening to pull her apart at the seams. "Then what's wrong? Because something is wrong. I know you, Shepard. I know you better than I know myself and something is bothering you. Something I did."

"You didn't do anything," she snaps. "That's the whole fucking problem." Feelings and the blatant declaration of them have never been her strong suit and in the face of discomfort, Shepard grows indignant. "You played it too easy, Vakarian, just like you always do."

He recoils like a poorly maintained pistol. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means--" she shouts, only to lower her tone when a passing officer glances their way. "It means that I don't like being toyed with. I made my--my feelings known. And enough time has past that I was hoping you'd finally do the same." Shepard pulls away. "I guess you have."

When she goes to leave, though, he holds tight, pressing her into the wall. "What feelings? What are you even talking about?"

"I love you, okay? And I know you know what it fucking means, Garrus. You seem to have no problem throwing the word around otherwise." The foolishness is too much, and her indignation dies an ugly death. "I just thought you'd have said it back by now."

The gauntlet of understanding plays out on his features. "Shepard, do you think--"

"Keep your pity, Garrus, I'm a big girl. I'll get over it. The war will make sure of that."

He tries once more to speak, assuredly to apologize for her gross display of misconstrued affection, but Shepard cannot bear the rejection and she wrests free from his grasp to disappear gracelessly into her cabin.

Not even a full minute passes before he chases after her.

The fish all seem to look expectantly at her when she stalks into the room and she punches the 'feed' button almost hard enough to break it. Shitty, autotuned dance music plays mutely in the background.

Shepard takes one full step towards the inviting expanse of her bed when Garrus marches in.

"Garrus, I said--"

"I love you. Is that what this is about? Spirits, Shepard, how was I supposed to know you cared about that? Of course I love you! I'd burn this entire stupid galaxy down for you. I'd happily march into certain annihilation at your side, just as I have time and again." His mandibles flare with emotion. "I never said it back because I thought it was obvious. Apparent, even. I love you so much you stubborn, difficult, foolish woman."

She doesn't quite know what to say first and so she settles for a scowl. "I don't need some hallmark card of devotions, Garrus. It was just--in the moment you didn't say it back and--well--I mean you say you love your stupid rifle! What was I supposed to think?"

He closes the gap between them, satiating the mutual need to touch. "That I'm actually not the cool, suave, sophisticated badass that I pretend to be and telling the woman of my dreams--who happens to be the savior of all sapient life in the galaxy--that I love her is just a wee bit intimidating?"

"But I said it first!"

"And I was too tongue tied to say it back." His forehead is cool against her own. "I'm sorry. I know--I know how hard it is, being vulnerable. And the fact that you thought, even for a second, let alone two standard weeks, that I didn't love you back is a crime I cannot bear to commit again."

"Garrus--"

He presses his cheek to hers, flaring the plates of his mouth in his own interpretation of a kiss. "Shut up. I love you. I'll say it everyday. All the time. To anyone who will listen. I love you."