Dear Shepard.
I have wandered this earth, encrusted with greenery that reaches further than my sight. Our ship is crumpled for a time, crushed by waves of amber and crimson, shot down from a war-time sky. It has seemed like weeks since I've seen the dotted flesh of your cheeks, the tint of rose beneath your skin, so unlike mine.
I remember the first time I looked upon your face in intimacy. My stomach in knots, my hands wavering and unsteady. You took them into your own hands, made them yours. Slowly, as a flower unfurls it petals to the daylight, you stole my hands, my body, my heart.
I willingly give you my rifle, my rank, my life. You are worth more than all these things, just to wake up and glimpse at your sleeping form beside me. To fill your soul as you've filled mine, my too-few fingers counting the bars to the cage that encases your heart. To brush a thousand strands of fire from your face, just to watch them fall back into place.
Each day upon this unknown planet, it grows harder to go on without you. My spirit desires to leave this place and rejoin yours, even as our friends surround me in solace. Liara and Tali with their quiet words and whispers, cannot comfort me in these dark moments. I am one half of a whole, longing to become complete once more.
The knowledge that you are still out there thriving in the midnight velvet that is filled with broken, dying stars, drives my will to survive. To know that you may be waiting for me across this deep sea of hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen - waiting for my return. It is enough.
I will press on into the night, and the next, and the next. I promise you that I will return to you once more. Whether in life or death, we will be together again. Somewhere in this weary spirit of mine, I know that you are patiently awaiting for word from me.
If I could, I would send you messages written upon bullets, shot through this sky that stays lit for only a few hours. I would send my rifle-notes to you each morning and night, to greet you when you wake, and to settle you to sleep. They would be written crudely in this universal language that neither of us are too fond of, this language that lacks the words that I would use to adequately express my love to you. But they would be written from the heart.
As I aid in the repairs to our ship, no longer embodied by a sentient -albeit artificial - intelligence, I try to remember each hour something that I miss about you.
Some moments, I miss how you smell like freshly dug earth mixed with spring rain, or how passionate you could become when defending those that could not defend themselves. Other moments, I miss those small, stolen glances amidst a storm of bullets, knowing that we'd be together in the end, no matter where or when it ended.
The hours soar past as my muscles wear themselves by slowly repairing the damage made by an unknown blast, my mind swimming through our life together. You have shepherded your sheep well, they survive under the heaviest amounts of pressure. Our unspoken oath of loyalty to you has motivated us in your absence. You have enkindled a passion within us, a want to return to our lives.
When night sweeps upon this emerald earth, I carve small ships out of the dense jungle that lay before our own Normandy. Out of sight from our comrades, I send them sailing into the night, ignited by nothing but my solitary strength. Invisibly, I hang my wishes upon their wings, hoping that with each ship I send, it will bring me closer to you.
We will be reunited, someday. This aching emptiness will have to sustain me until then. Only the memories of you to keep me company, along with the wounded friends that have managed to continue on. When I return, even if it is to simply bury your beloved shape, our moments together will have been enough. Silently, I pray to the spirits that not be the case. The galaxy is lonely enough.
Besides, someone once spoke to me, there's not a Shepard without Vakarian.
Just wait for me Shepard, I will be there soon.