Chapter 1. Destroy.

She thought about choosing destruction. It was her first instinct, and Shepard knew that her first instincts were usually pretty spot on. They had served her millions of times in combat, life, and general galaxy saving duties that she seemed to have to do every single bloody day. But, as she walked towards the levers, EDI's face came into her mind unbidden. Joker's smile. The change in him since he had fallen for her. Images of them played across her mind, memories, movies she knew well. Then followed Legion. Legion, her brave soldier, her friend, her biggest fan. Her martyr. On seeing his face, face? Was it a face? Did geth have faces? His visage, then, she stopped and nearly fell forward. Her right knee was clearly bent slightly in the wrong direction, and the accompanying pinch of tendons stifled between broken bones sent shivers up her spine. At least three of her ribs were broken, and one of those was a floater threatening to pierce her skin. Not the first time but, fuck, it was always terrible. Her left foot was completely useless, and she balanced on the outside of it so that she could stand up and speak to this child-image, this haunter of her nightmares, this fucking demon, this person who had given her this choice. Why her? Why had it always been her? Commander Shepard. She knew she could handle it but, christ and goddamnit. Why.

In that moment she knew what she had to do. The course of her gimpy stumble changed towards synthesis. Though the idea of the reapers surviving in any capacity hurt everything she was made of, she knew that it was the right thing to do. These reapers really thought that they were right. They thought that they were saving the galaxy. And lord knows the geth and EDI, EDI! They didn't deserve to die. Not that Shepard did either. But she'd had a great run. Her face felt wet. A hand came up to touch it and came away a deep red, after scratching her across the forehead in what already felt like an open wound. Huh. That's not where fingers are supposed to be. That's not how many fingers there are supposed to be either. Damnit. Keep walking.

Garrus. Oh, god. Garrus. What was Garrus going to do. He was strong, he was going to be okay, he didn't need her that much… who was she kidding? He was going to be destroyed. Could she sacrifice that? Pause. Stop. Garrus, her prince. Her archangel. Her vigilante. Her fucking stubborn, adorable man. Her reason to come back from this station. Her dream of sitting on a tropical beach. Jesus, a margarita sounded amazing right now. Cool. Salty. Alcohol? Really? Right now? When the fate of the universe is at stake? The pool of blood on the floor was starting to seep in through her boots, and they were the best boots. She was Commander Shepard. The cuts on her face started to sting, and she screamed with an agony she knew was in her somewhere, but she could never express. The salt. From her eyes, she was crying, wasn't she? Giving up her life for the galaxy was easy. She had done that before. Giving up Garrus's? … She didn't know.

A deep breath. A lick of the lips. Neck cracks right, neck cracks left. A little gasp of pain on that second crack. If she lives through this, that vertebra is going to need some reconstruction. "I'm sorry Garrus," she whispered, eyes shut tight, face squished. "I'm so, so, sorry".

Eyes open and gaze locks on the green beam. Synthesis. So that this will never, ever happen again. "I'm sorry Garrus!," she screamed in agony as she collapsed to the floor, and endeavored to crawl towards the beam, her shattered right hand pulling her along the alien tile. The green light changes to his face. His eyes, peering at her, one open, the other through his sniper monocle. He wouldn't want it like this. She didn't want… She stood up. It took her about thirty seconds longer than she thought possible, and she had once been dead for two years. Not that she remembered it… she chuckled. Last time she was surprised by it. This time, she would go down like a champion.

"Garrus," she said calmly, tears openly streaming down her face, dropping off of her chin and mixing with the red gore below, "I love you. I'm sorry. But, I know you'll understand".

She ran. Sprinted, into the beam. Strength exploded out of her poor broken body like Hercules's transformation into a god and she knew she had made the best possible choice. As she hit the beam, she felt a sense of serenity she only felt when she was with him. She noticed his arms wrapping around her. Those arms she enjoyed kissing whenever he flexed, to make fun of him and also tell him how she cherished him. "Garrus, my love. I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry," she chanted as she nuzzled into his chest. He was so surprisingly warm without armor. His chest so solid, yet soft. His talons stroked her hair. It was down? Of course it was down. They were in bed. She was going to sleep. It was bedtime.

"Shhhh. It's fine. It's going to be alright. I love you too. I love you always," he whispered back to her. The rhythmic brushes of her hair, the beat of his words, the sweet caress of puffs of air on her forehead; they all fell into perfect sync as she smiled despite herself. She was home. Safe. In the arms of her love.

Commander Shepard drifted off into a peaceful slumber.