AN: Another kind of angsty fic, sorry. What can i say, i'm working through my issues with things left unaddressed. Fluff up next, i promise, its already at 3k words.

Anyways hope you like it, please leave a review... they make my day!

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

Chapter One

~Silverware~

It was always relentlessly bright and sunny on the citadel, even at night. The artificial sunlight seemed to radiate everywhere; it invaded every corner of the wards. The only exception being one modest apartment overlooking the retail district.

The blinds had been hastily closed, blocking out all but a thin sliver of the light, which cut a harsh line across the figure sat hunched on the couch. He was deathly still, head bowed, a bottle of TM88-Peruvian whiskey in hand and a silver fork resting on the table before him.

Closing the blinds had been the first thing he did, as soon as he'd hacked his way past the secure lock, with a deft swipe and a tap or two of his omni-tool. He was breaking at least six laws with that one act, but quite frankly, he was long past caring.

He'd closed the blinds not in an attempt to conceal his criminal act, but from a desire for his environment to reflect the crushing darkness he felt in his heart and soul. He'd hoped to find the apartment full of personal items, a veritable treasure trove of object that would give him some comfort. Books that she'd loved. Sentimental trinkets that each held a story close to her heart. Pictures of her or people and places from her past. Notes she'd left for herself, jewellery, toiletries, anything! He just needed to have something to hold, to touch, to smell. He needed some kind of connection to her, some conformation that she had existed.

He was mortified to discover the apartment was empty, apart from the basic integrated furniture there was nothing there. He'd searched everywhere, calmly at first, lightly opening drawers and cupboards and peering within. As his search grew more desperate, he became less gentle. By the time he made it to her compact bedroom, all care had gone out the window. He ripped the drawers out of the dresser and flung them behind him when he found nothing inside. With a blinding flash of blue he upended her bed, sending the covers and pillows flying. When he saw there was nothing underneath he dropped to his knees and raked his hands down his face, the excessive amount of stubble that he had uncharacteristically let build up, scratched his palms roughly. He turned to look at the item on the coffee table. For all his searching, all he could find was one fork in a kitchenette drawer.

That's how he came to be where he was, sat on her couch in her empty dark apartment, nursing the whiskey he had brought as he made his way there. Staring at that piece of nondescript silver cutlery, with tears streaming down his face and an ache in his heart so intense he could hardly breathe.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there lost in his grief, minutes? Hours? What was the point in paying attention to time, there was nothing to look forward to anymore. No more stolen kisses. No more secretly holding hands under the mess hall table. No more making love in her cabin under the pretext of squad review meetings. He'd never again smell her hair or touch her smooth skin. Never hear her voice. Never watch her as she slept. Never hear stories of her childhood or share his own. But worst of all, she'd never hear him say 'I love you', and he'd never know if she'd say it in return. The pain of that thought made him feel physically sick. His head throbbed and he could feel a debilitating migraine creeping up on him. He knew the alcohol wasn't helping but he needed something to take the edge off. He tossed back a jolt of the whisky and closed his eyes, savouring the burn in the back of his throat and with trembling hands; he reached over and ran his finger tips tenderly along the fork.

Harsh light flooded into the apartment as the door hissed open. Kaidan blinked up impassively at the tall, broad silhouetted figure standing in the doorway, before returning his attention to the half finished whiskey bottle in his hand. The figure stepped over the fresh hold and the door hissed shut behind him, returning him to oppressive gloom.

"Sir." Kaidan whispered, acknowledging the senior officer as he rubbed the tears from his eyes with the heel of his hands.

Anderson stepped forward surveying the disarray of the apartment, using the gesture as an excuse to avert his eyes and give the Lieutenant a moment to collect himself.

"How did you find me?" he reluctantly turned to Anderson with a defeated sigh.

Anderson met his eyes as he approached the couch, pausing to set the wooden box he held down on the small glass coffee table next to the fork.

"Your omni-tool. I called your doctor trying to locate you, he advised me you had already finished your meeting and would be somewhere on the Citadel. I instructed an intelligence officer to ping your omni-tool and get me a fix on your location."

It had been a month since the destruction of the Normandy. Kaidan was still on administrative leave and undergoing twice weekly psychological evaluations. He'd been diagnosed with PTSD after he'd attacked members of a retrieval team. The team had responded to the distress call of the Normandy and were at the time organising the recovery of the crew from the escape pods. When they had refused to give him access to a shuttle so he could search for Shepard, Kaidan became uncharacteristically enraged. He'd lashed out as they attempted to restrain him, knocked one soldier out cold and broke the others arm in three places before a medics managed to administer a sedative.

Today's session with Alliance psychologist Dr Frank Peterson had been particularly hard for him. It had been announced three days ago that Shepard was officially being declared killed in action. All attempts to find and recover her body had been suspended. The Alliance was giving up on her, and they expected him to give up on her too. How could he? How could anyone expect him to just shrug and carry on regardless? He'd lost his love, his heart, his future. But of course, they didn't know that. They just saw a young Lieutenant whose commission had been blown out from under him. Who'd survived a major trauma, escaping by the skin of his teeth. An officer who had lost fellow crew members and a CO he respected and admired.

It had been a matter of official record that just prior to the final destruction of the Normandy, Kaidan, sat in his jettisoned escape pod, had hacked into Shepards suit com via her omni-tool. By the use of some non standard applications, he had managed to patch her com system to broadcast direct to his own. He was only able to set it to broadcast out, not receive, so he couldn't call out to her, tell her he loved her. He heard her breathing hard as she tumbled from the wreckage. There was the unmistakable hiss of escaping air and he knew she was in trouble when her breath hitched and she whispered 'Oh god no'. Her breathing began to accelerate as she no doubt tried to fix the situation. The leak must have been severe, in less than 10 seconds he could hear her panicking and gasping in increasingly shallower breaths. He heard her whisper his name, a plea for help, a declaration of love, a grim acknowledgement that she would never see him again, all packed into those two syllables. She managed one more shallow, rasping breath and then there was silence from her com.

He didn't inform them of her last word before she died; he kept that too himself, like his broken heart. They didn't need to know.

"What are you doing in here son?"

Kaidan's eyes darted around the apartment, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "I urm... I just... I..." He glanced at Anderson, his handsome features twisted in confusion and pain as he shook his head looking down, defeated.

Anderson was silent for a moment, assessing the lieutenant. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "You loved her." It wasn't a question; it was a simple statement of fact.

Kaidan raised his eyes sharply, visibly wincing at the use of the past tense. Love not Loved.

"I..." he began, as he took in the look of pity on Anderson's weathered face. Kaidan noticed that he too bore the unmistakable marks of grief and loss. There was a pained look in his eyes and something off about the set of his usually ridged shoulders.

"You don't have to say it son, it was fairly obvious you two were more than just CO and subordinate... to me anyway." He smiled weakly at him but Kaidan couldn't return it. He didn't think he would ever be able to smile again without her. He closed his eyes and her face swam into his memory.

~o~

Her beautiful, bright blue eyes were alive with mischief, humour and joy as she lay beside him. Her fingers ghosted across his collarbone, twining around the chain of his dog tags. A wide genuine grin played across her face as she squeezed the two tags together in her palm. Her smile was so infectious he couldn't help but chuckle at her. He wanted to tell her then that he loved her, but as he opened his mouth she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, pulling on his chain to keep him close.

~o~

His breath hitched and he felt an oppressive constricting in his chest. A thick band of pain squeezing his heart relentlessly. He forced open his eyes; trying to banish the image of her that once had filled him with joy and longing, but now caused him immeasurable pain.

"I knew Shepard a very long time, almost half of her life, in fact. I never got around to having a family, but I always looked at her like the daughter I never had. I was so proud of how she turned out, and I'm glad she found you before the end. Glad she let herself care about someone like that again. After everything she must have lived through on Mindoir, I honestly didn't know if she ever would. To see her look at you the way she did when she crawled out of the rubble up in the Presidium..." He glanced down at his hands rested on his knees and became lost in his own memories of Shepard.

"Sir?" Kaidans raspy grief laden voice brought him back to the present with a jolt. "Does anyone else know?"

"No." He proclaimed emphatically "and they won't hear about it, not from me anyway."

They sat for a while in companionable silence before Anderson sat back and with a sigh, he turned to face Kaidan.

"You didn't answer my question before. What were you doing in here?" he took the bottle of whisky from Kaidans limp fingers and he didn't protest. "Besides getting blind drunk."

Kaidan closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees.

"I don't have anything to remember her by. Everything of hers went down with the Normandy. That's why I came here, I just found out she had this place. I was hoping to find something of hers here." He reached forward and reverently grasped the fork. "This is the only thing I found."

Kaidan sighed, twisting the fork around in his fingers, watching the light that snuck through the blinds reflect off its surface. "I love her so damn much and this is all I have of her. I don't even have a picture of her, of us. They were all on her omni-tool and she hadn't gotten around to sending them to me." His voice cracked as an overwhelming sense of loss washed over him. He dropped the fork on to the table with a clatter and grasped his head, tugging painfully at his hair as he sobbed. He wanted to have a more tangible, physical pain to focus on. He was used to physical pain; you couldn't be in active service and not be, he could handle that kind of discomfort. Emotional pain was different, worse. It couldn't be slathered with Medi-Gel to relieve the sting and throb and pain relief didn't begin to touch the agony of a broken heart.

Anderson placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I think I can help you there son." He reached forward and silently slid the wooden box across towards Kaidan, who looked up quizzically through his tears.

"What is that?"His voice a barley audible whisper, as he attempted to bring himself under control once more.

"This" Anderson explained as he patted the box "Is the reason I was looking for you. I received a request to deliver this to you personally. Along with this OSD." Anderson handed him an optical storage device from his pocket.

"What is this? Who asked you to do this?" His brow knitted in confusion as he rolled the OSD in his hand.

Anderson again placed his hand on Kaidans shoulder. "It's from Shepard, son."