A/N: There are parts in this fanfic that are not at all the typical Shepard and I hope you can read past those parts if you don't approve. Bioware owns almost everything.

He had accepted a place on her ship without question or regret. She had come to trust him and enjoy his company. They went on every ground mission together and fought and shot without so much as a word, just a knowing where the other would aim. She would trash the Mako and then hand him the tools to fix it. They would talk and compare war stories, sometimes spar.

But that was before Virmire. She had sent one of her crew to die on that planet, like she swore would never happen again after Akuze. They returned to the Normandy and she had locked herself in her quarters, not even taking the call from the ambassador. He stood silently at his station, thinking back over their conversations, some more serious than others, but all were meaningful to him. He always learned something new just from being around her. He chanced a glance at the now empty armory where the familiar shape of Ashley Williams was missing. He thought about going to the commander's room and knocking on her door, but he had no idea what he would say. He didn't even know what was acceptable to say to his human commanding officer. He figured that human biotic that was always eying her was already there. He sighed heavily and looked for something else to occupy his mind.

He was woken that night by a muffled curse and the smell of gun oil. He looked over to see a familiar figure hunched over the work bench. He sidled up next to her and leaned against the bench. She didn't stop, didn't look up.

"Trying to honor her memory?" He asked.

"Trying to forget, actually."

He noticed her shaking hands. "In the mood for company?"

She almost sent him away, just like Kaidan. She didn't want to talk anymore; she had nothing left to say. Instead she sighed and said, "Sure."

Without a word, he picked up a pistol and stripped it. She was grateful for his silence and he was glad she had showed up at all. She began reassembling her rifle when he noticed angry red welts on her arms, crisscrossing scars of various ages. He looked up to find her looking at him. She knew what he saw and turned to lean against the bench with her arms by her sides, her ever present bracelet glinting in the dim light.

"What are those scars from?" He gestured to her arms.

She quickly folded her arms to hide them. "Nothing."

"That looked like a whole lot of nothing. Talk to me, Commander."

She sighed heavily. "It's a long, dark story."

"Well, I wasn't planning on doing anything else for a while. I've come to see that it's darkest only when you're alone."

"I'm not proud of it."

"I'm not judging. Hell, I'm hardly in a place to."

She gave him a sidelong look, considering his words. Her shoulders slumped and she began, "It's an addiction, just like alcohol or drugs. But instead of wanting to forget your problems or put yourself above them, you've fallen past that. You're addicted to feeling the pain just to know you're alive. I never thought I would be one of those, who fell into shit like that, but I broke down."

"What do you mean?"

Her voice became distant, detached. "It's a slow thing. It starts when something causes your world to crumble and before you can put it back together, something else scatters the pieces. You scramble trying to find them, hope still lingering, lighting your way. Then some of the pieces fall out of your reach and the light fades. You don't notice at first. Jokes you used to laugh at don't hold humor any more. Things that would have brought tears to your eyes seem meaningless. You just go through the motions for a while, forgetting why you're doing what you're doing. Then one day, you witness something so brutal you know you should fall to your knees trying not to vomit at the site. Instead you just stand there, staring with a look of mild shock. You finish your job and leave. That night, you think back over the day and your lack of reaction finally hits you. You shut the door to your room and look at yourself in the mirror. You think of anything to get a reaction, but the reflection just stays emotionless. Then you realize the light is gone, but you don't know how long you've been standing in the dark. You should feel fear or anger or something. But there is nothing. You look at yourself in the mirror again. You have become featureless, blank. You wonder if you're dead and just haven't realized it yet, stuck imagining that you're still fighting for something. Why should you be spared twice when others weren't even spared once? You try to feel something, anything to prove you're alive. You scream and yell and scramble, feeling so lost you would do anything just to prove something is real, that you're not dead yet. You take your old blade mod and drag it across the skin of your arm. It hurts. You stare at it, watching the blood well up. It stings for days, every time you touch it. You find you can smile and laugh and cry again, even if it's all shallow, the feelings are there but only when there's pain. And thus it begins."

He stayed silent for a long moment. He was disturbed by her words, by the fact that she spoke about her past like it didn't belong to her. He wondered how long ago it really had been for her, if she relived her time on Akuze or Mindior every night. She was standing, stiff and still next to him. He reached for her hand and gently took it in his talons. He turned it over and traced the multitude of lines on her wrist.

"How long?" He asked.

"A year and a half."

"That's a lot of damage for a short time."

"There's more than what you can see."

Those words stirred something deep inside him. He felt anger towards the ones who pushed her to this, sorrow that he didn't know how to help her, fear that he would lose her to this. He felt the need to protect her, but how was he supposed to protect her from her past? He suppressed a growl. He turned her so she was facing him. She looked up at him, her expression blank.

"I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"That no matter what happens; you'll come to me to prove you're alive. I don't want to see any more scars." He clamped his talons around her wrist, covering the hatch work lines. She looked down at his hand holding her wrist and back up at him. He saw a glimmer in her eye.

"I promise, no more scars," she whispered as she put her free hand over his on her arm, her bracelet clinking against his plates. He nodded to her once, acknowledging her words before he pulled away.

They turned back to the work bench and finished their task. She stowed her gear and stalked to the elevator. She turned to face him as the door slid closed and he couldn't read the expression on her face. He stayed awake the rest of the night tinkering on the Mako, their conversation running circles in his mind. Why was he suddenly so protective of the woman who could easily kick his ass?

She didn't know what made her confess to Garrus the way she did, but it bothered her. After Mindior and Akuze she swore she would never trust anyone enough for them to know her. Sure, she made her rounds and got to know the people she was responsible for, but she never gave out personal information. She preferred that the only thing her crew knew about her is what the news put out there. She went back to her quarters and checked the message Ambassador Udina left and plotted a course for the Citadel.

They stood in Flux after the meeting with the Council. Shepard's hands were tight fists at her sides as they talked with the only human to have completely won her trust off the battlefield. He was going to help them steal the Normandy. They ran through their options. She told him to use the computer in the ambassador's office.

As they parted ways, she said, "Give him one for me, Anderson."

He nodded and was on his way. They rushed back to the ship and were at the relay before docking bay personnel were aware they had left.

Ilos passed in a blur. They talked to a Prothean VI and blew up a lot of geth. That was about all the team registered as the Mako rocketed through the Conduit and crashed onto the Citadel. They pulled themselves, groaning, from the overturned vehicle and set off. Garrus and Tali marveled at their commander's ability to talk- or shout, rather- sense into the indoctrinated former Specter. Instead of fighting, he chose to help by putting a bullet through his cybernetics. She quickly opened a communications channel and sent the Alliance in to save the Council. Garrus and Tali leapt down a trail of debris to where Saren, former Specter, had crashed. They each put another bullet in what was left of his head to be sure.

"He's dead," Tali radioed in. Shepard looked down through the glass, nodded and turned to leave. The ground started to buck under her feet and she was thrown through the glass and tumbled onto the ground. The dead form of Saren sparked and shuddered with red energy as it shed the dead organic flesh and roared in a grating, synthetic drone. The trio dove for cover as the monstrosity scuttled around. They were wasting ammo trying to hit it; it just moved too fast. Shepard looked to Garrus taking cover next to her. His eyes met hers and he knew what she was planning. He tried to grab her arm as she launched herself over the concrete column they were using for shelter. She sprinted at the synthetic and slammed hard into it, sending them both flying. It had been so focused on dodging bullets that it hadn't been able to avoid the human throwing herself at it. It quickly shoved her off and pinned her to the ground using only one hand. The other slashed against her shields until it was one hit away from tearing into her face. She stared at it and smiled as its talons pulled back for a hit. She held her breadth, waiting. The thing's head exploded in a shower of metal and wires. She grinned wider and rolled to her feet. Garrus was storming over to her, ready to tell her exactly what he thought of the move she just pulled. An explosion overhead made them all stop and turn their eyes toward the flashes. A giant, black hunk of metal came hurtling down and Shepard turned, motioning for her team to move.

"Go! Go! Go!" She shouted as she ran behind them. As her team rounded a corner, the massive piece of debris crashed down on top of her in front of their eyes. Before they could really react, they were thrown back by smaller pieces of disjointed metal.

There was a faint sound of someone coming closer, rocks shifting. He was blinded by the bright light of an omni-tool shining in his face. There were shouts coming in clearer as the ringing in his ears faded away. Someone helped him to his feet. To his left was Tali, who looked better than he felt, but it really was hard to tell with the mask.

"Where is she?" Anderson's voice made him cringe. "Where is Shepard?"

Garrus just looked back to the pile of rubble, to the last place he saw her. He felt a deep sense of guilt that he didn't try to pull her after him. Tali just shook her head. Medical staff started to pull them toward the gap they had made. Anderson just stood there staring as if he expected her to toss the hulking mass aside like it weighed no more than she did. He was about to turn away when he heard footsteps coming from the pile. Tali and Garrus turned just in time to see her reach the top of an incline and smile down at them, holding one arm close to her body. They all smiled back and she slid down to their level. After a quick field check and a short debrief from the Council, the Normandy crew met for drinks. Still in uniform, Shepard made her rounds through the crowd refusing the drinks offered by her crew. She finally made it to his dark corner and slid into the booth across from him. Much of his anger toward her had cooled when he thought she had died. He expected it to reignite when she causally joined him, but was surprised to find relief flood his mind.

"That was crazy," he muttered from behind his drink.

"Not crazy, just a calculated risk," she smiled back.

"Whatever you humans call it, I still call it crazy," he shook his head. She smirked and relaxed into her seat. "How did you know I would get it in time?"

"I know you." She replied simply.

"Seriously, you were staring at death and you didn't doubt my skill for a second? Or think Tali would take the shot?"

"Nope. And she wouldn't have taken that risk with her shotgun."

"Why not? Do you have no fear? I doubted I would get it right."

" You've been on every ground mission with me. Being with someone that much in battle builds a certain. . ." She paused, seeming to choke on her next words, "Trust. I have never once been shot at from my six. Even if you doubted yourself, I knew I would be fine leaving you with the shot."

He wanted to come back with some sarcastic remark, something to hide his shock at her statement. Instead he barked out, "Thanks, Commander."

She stood, "It's just 'Shepard' to you."

He blinked, watching her walk away. He would never understand that woman. She shared her past with him and no one else. She believed in him when he doubted himself. Clearly, she could see something he was missing. He finished his drink and swore he would be the person she saw him as and live up to the expectations she had set for him, whether she knew she set them or not.