Disclaimer: Although I'm sure someone at BioWare probably writes fanfiction, I'm not one of them. A person at BioWare, that is. I obviously write fanfiction. Rated for language... including language taken from dialogue from the game.

I usually don't write short little things like this (and post them), but the whole thing formulated in my head rather quickly and I finished it pretty much in one sitting, so, I figured, why the hell not? I think Bierce wouldn't mind me referencing him in such a... romantic (literary) way with the title.

Walking up the last half of steps to the Command Deck, Shepard's mind was only on the fact that there was something she needed to do. With the millions of duties for the commander of a ship, it was escaping her exactly as to what it was she was supposed to do while she was up there, why exactly she was walking up the stairs. Sort of like one of those moments when you walk into a room and you can't remember why you walked in there... those things happen to everyone, even her. But, she'll probably figure out what she wants, if something else she needs to do doesn't come up. With a nudge from her omni-tool, the door opened, and she strolled out on deck.

Everything was working normally and, for some reason, that was a relief to her. The standard chatter of the crew, mostly official but a few personal conversations, and sounds of fingers on beeping orange interfaces gave her a comforting feeling. The front of the ship looked dark, despite that it was usually the more active part of the ship, but she didn't spare much thought to that at the moment.

Navigator Pressly was at the map, and, for the moment, Shepard was so glad that he's not hurt (an exploding console to the face is a big deal, or was it chicken pox?) that she doesn't mind the strangeness of him being on the platform rather than his usual console. She grinned and calls up at him, "Pressly! Good to see you're fit to work."

The older marine didn't look over to her, too focused on working coordinates. He continued giving orders to the others, and they acknowledged as if the XO was the only one there. She must not have been heard, because it's not in Pressly's nature to ignore his commanding officer, so she clears her throat and repeats herself.

His head shoots up from where he was leaning over the railing to the map, and now he's staring right at her. All the chatter stops, both of machines and of people, and the only thing Shepard hears is a beep that sounds far, far away.

And Pressly wasn't the only one staring; everyone on deck was.

She pressed her lips tight together, trying not to show that she was shaken. "Pressly?" He stood slowly, eyes still cemented on her. "Pressly, is everything in good order? Or is there anything I need to know?"

"You shouldn't be here, Commander."

He said it so quietly, but in the sudden dead silence, she could hear every syllable clearly. This time, Shepard couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her, but she smiled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You shouldn't be here," he repeated. His tone isn't cold, but it is unnervingly flat.

Her smile fell and she started to back up towards the stairs, only to bump into the soldier that always guarded them. When did he move in between her and the door? Why did he? And what was making this situation feel so eerie?

Taking the point, she edged towards the bow, awkwardly and slowly through the deck, towards the front of the ship. Everyone's eyes stayed on her, slowly turning as she rounded around the map, and she felt like she couldn't get there quickly enough, but she didn't want to risk running. Their stares didn't contain malice, or hatred, or... anything, and that was why it was so damn unsettling. Like the Legion of the Dead were watching her. Her breathing was getting heavier, the beep was a little louder, maybe a little faster in rhythm. It must have been coming from this side of the ship. Wary, but no longer wishing to look at these shades of people she knew (and they weren't going to stop staring), she turned around towards the flight deck.

God, why was it so dark? Where the hell was everybody?

Her steps were suddenly so slow, like the gravity wasn't working. She shoved aside a chair that was in her way, and it moved away far too easily. All she could hear was her breath. In, out, in, out. That far away beep was getting closer, but her breath was in her ears, like she was wearing a helmet. Joker wasn't at the helm.

Oh, fuck, why wasn't Joker at the helm?

Though there was a logical a part of her brain that told her he probably hobbled over to the bathroom, or he might even just be taking a well-deserved rest, her heart seized with fear. Fear that something was wrong. Fear that she failed somewhere. Why isn't he at the helm? Nobody was here! It was so dark, and it was cold. Was something wrong with the climate control, too? Were some systems damaged in the last attack? The last attack? She couldn't hear anything. Only her breath. In, out, in, out. Where was that beep coming from, then?

There was no reason to stay here, but where is she supposed to go? The airlock, perhaps. Were they even docked at the moment? Damn it, she couldn't remember... But the airlock opened for her automatically. She didn't even activate it, or maybe she did. She was thinking about it opening, after all. She stepped in, and found herself in front of someone big.

Shepard blinked and looked up at Garrus, who was similarly looking down at her. But his eyes (for all their turian worth) weren't lifeless as those on the deck, and she was glad for that. His small, predator eyes were wide with shock, and his jaw gaped. He was breathing hard, harder than she was, mandibles fluttering with each inhale and exhale, and his armor was darkened with various colors of blood and what looked like black grease marks from a blast. He looked like he just took a brisk jog through Hell and decided to come by and say hello since he was in the neighborhood.

But, really, what struck Shepard the most at the moment was how damn tall he was. It was easy to forget when he was standing right next to Wrex that a turian, even reliable old Officer Vakarian, is much bigger than a human. She forced a laugh, and it came out as a raspy scoff. "Garrus! What are you doing here? I thought you were at the Cita—"

He really was tall. When he threw his arms around her and crushed her to him, she was pulled up a good foot off from the floor. She gasped and noticed how much her chest hurt, but it couldn't be from how Garrus squeezed her. He's been her most dedicated soldier... her best friend, even. Him hurting her, even by accident, was impossible. She was more likely to friendly fire at his shields than the other way around. Why did he never complain about that sloppiness on her part, anyway? She should ask him that, now, since he was here.

"Shepard!" Garrus gasped in her ear, and she felt a mandible clatter against her hair and cheek with each strong breath. His gloved talons gripped her hard, and she thought that maybe he was hurting her, because breathing was starting to be a pain.

"Hey, what's going on?" She laughed again and pulled herself back by gripping his wide shoulders and pushing away. His eyes were still wide, lively, and moving frantically over her. "You're acting like I was dead. Have the newscasters at the Citadel been reporting problems in the Terminus System, again? I told you before they just do that to raise their ratings. Besides, you know the place is crawling with—"

His grip, now on her arms, was bruising, and he pulled her close again. "You can't leave! Not again!"

"Garrus?"

"I... I don't want to be alone, Shepard. I messed up big this time. Everything that could go wrong has." His flanging voice creaked low, like a support beam squealing in the pain of weight. "It's too damn much to take."

"What do you mean?" She shook her head. This whole thing wasn't making any sense. Pressly was acting strange. Hell, the whole fucking crew was staring at her like something out of a horror movie. Like they were all trying to kick her off the Normandy. And where the hell was Joker? "You're not in trouble. Not when you're here, right?"

He looked confused. Shit, he looked a little scared. That made even less sense. "...I..."

"Look, if there's something up, you know I'll help you out."

"Shepard..."

"And can you tell me where the fuck Joker is? I can't find him."

"Get to the damn shuttles! I'll haul Joker's crippled ass out of here," her own voice ordered from somewhere, and the deck exploded into heat and flames. Each breath was searing, like there wasn't enough oxygen going to her lungs, and she staggered as her world fell black.

"Get the hell out of here!"

And then everything burst into bright light.

"There. On the monitor. Something's wrong."

"She's reacting to outside stimuli. Showing an awareness of her surroundings."

In, out, in, out.

"Oh my god, Miranda. I think she's waking up."

In, out, in, out.

"Damn it, Wilson. She's not ready yet! Give her the sedative!"

In, out.

"Shepard—don't try to move." Breathe, damn it. "Just lie still. Try to stay calm."

"Heart rate still climbing. Brain activity is off the charts."

Breathing. Heart pounding. Beeping, beeping.

"Stats pushing to the red zone. It's not working!"

"Another dose. Now!"

Damping...

"Heart rate dropping. Stats falling back into normal range. That was too close. We almost lost her."

"I told you your estimates were off. Run the numbers again."