A/N: I'll give credit where credit is due: the title is Hemingway and I use several segments of Tennyson's poetry. First, "Charge of the Light Brigade" then "The Lotos-Eaters" and finally, "In Memoriam".

A FAREWELL TO ARMS

Ashley reluctantly answered the chime of her door's bell, her body moving mechanically as it went about the rote movements while her mind remained safely dissociated. As the door slid open the dreaded, and expected, sight was revealed. Automatically accepting the pad from the man waiting patiently outside her door Ashley signed it blindly as her eyes fixated on the small package the deliveryman held. Retreating into her room Ashley set the box down and stood staring at it as she mustered her courage. Swallowing hard Ashley was finally able to force a shaking hand to reach out and open the sealed package revealing its contents.

Removing a fully upgraded M-5 Phalanx pistol from the box Ashley tore off the paper attached to its grip, her eyes frantically scanning its text.

Ash,

If you're getting this it means I fell on the Collector base and Joker decided to follow my last order and give this to you instead of selling it on the black market like he wanted to. I know how much you like heavy pistols and this one has served me well, I hope it will do the same for you in whatever trials you will face in the future. Let this sidearm be the way I can remain at your side facing our enemies together even in death.

I don't know if you want to hear the details of the mission but I feel the truth about what happened with the Collectors is too important to remain controlled by Cerberus. To that end I have included various pieces of data I gathered as proof of the Reapers as well as a mission report complete up to when the Normandy hit the Omega Four relay. Joker is supposed to finish his own report on the events after that as well as whatever evidence he could sneak past Cerberus censors. I hope you can use this to find some way to get the Council to finally listen to my warnings about the Reapers.

As you know I was a pretty optimistic person so the fact that I wrote a farewell is a little strange. Let me explain the reasons for this uncharacteristic pessimism. The Collectors captured the Normandy's crew while me and my team were away on a mission, I'm sure Joker can elaborate on this if you care to ask, and I am therefore forced to accelerate my timetable. Hoping to rescue the crew from whatever fate the Collectors have planned for them I am attacking going through the relay before the Normandy has received the upgrades I deem necessary for the ship to survive a fight with the Collectors. On top of those technical issues I have a squad of misfits who I have not had time to forge into a proper team yet. Despite these handicaps I believe we can destroy the Collectors, the thing I don't believe is that many of us will survive to taste victory.

Like you I'm not too good with words so I think I'll take a page from your book and use the writings of a professional wordsmith to express myself, one of the many things you taught me.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

After my revival by Cerberus my life has been torment, my only solace has been to know that I am working to save the galaxy for you and, while incomplete, I have gone some distance towards accomplishing that ambitious goal. I love you, Ash and it pains me to say goodbye for two reasons; first that I will never see you again and second that my passing might again cause you pain. After Horizon I was relieved that you had appeared to move past me, it meant the second of my fears would not be realized. But then I received your message in which you said you couldn't lose me a second time and my fear returned.

This situation leads me to beg you to be glad for my death rather than to be saddened by it. I myself would look forward to returning to the embrace of oblivion if not for your presence on this side of death's curtain. I saved the galaxy once and was repaid by being torn from the arms of my love by death only to be resurrected and forced to endure that trial once again. It is a curse Cerberus laid on me but it need not bind you as well. I know you were hurt by my first death and the severing of our time together but I beg you, do not put yourself through that pain again.

I am not the man you once knew and loved, two years might have passed without my conscious awareness but in the few weeks since then I have been twisted by the grim necessities of the Terminus system. With each death I have inflicted because it is the fastest, easiest way to achieve a goal rather than the only way I feel a bit of myself disappear, and I am fast running out of pieces of myself. Once a man named Nathaniel Hale said "I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country." He was wrong, that is not something to regret, giving more than one life is too exhausting.

I am tired; of the fighting, of the killing, of making decisions, of people depending on me. The only thing I'm not tired of is you. But here I am finally in luck; I can have you without enduring those other tiring things. In death we will be reunited as promised by your god. You know I was never very religious, but I have experienced the afterlife and know it to be real. I was dead for two years, yet some memories of that time remain, not memories as you know them but rather the impressions and echoes of iprofound emotions. Feelings of peace, relaxation, and happiness washed over me; inviting me to their welcome embrace...and I remember it.

Why are we weigh'd upon with heaviness,

And utterly consumed with sharp distress,

While all things else have rest from weariness?

All things have rest: why should we toil alone,

Still from one sorrow to another thrown;

Nor ever fold our wings,

And cease from wanderings.

Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;

Nor harken what the inner spirit sings,

There is no joy but calm!

All things are taken from us, and become

Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.

Let us alone. What pleasure can we have

To war with evil? Is there any peace

In ever climbing up the climbing wave?

All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave

In silence-ripen, fall, and cease:

Give us long death, dark death, or dreamful ease.

Death is not to be feared, Ash, I look forward to its release and eventually being together with you again in its peace. I love you and I will wait for you on the other side.

Looking back and forth from the note to the pistol Ashley felt numb, her tears refusing to come. Picking up the weapon Ashley hefted it, feeling that it was loaded. Slowly she moved a finger to switch off the safety as she turned the heavy lump of metal over in her hands. Finally, she moved to place the cold metal barrel against her temple. Taking a deep, shuddering breath Ashley's finger tensed on the trigger as her tears finally began to fall.

As she wept, the water falling from her cheeks onto her lap, Ashley dropped the pistol; letting it fall as well. Standing from her desk Ashley left her flowing tears undisturbed as they ran in tracks down her face. Her weak, shaky voice gathering strength as she spoke aloud Ashley once again reached into the horrid package grabbing the various OSDs that held the evidence of Shepard's second life,

"But since it pleased a vanish'd eye,

I go to plant it on his tomb,

That if it can it there may bloom,

Or dying, there at least may die."

With a determined step Ashley headed for Councilor Anderson's office.