2183 – August 7
I don't even know why I'm doing this. I just know that if I don't get it out somehow, I'm going to snap. You know they denied my request to head back there? I'm tempted, so fucking tempted, Lia, to just go. Go and look for you. The hardest thing I ever did was request permission to "find your body." Your body. It can't be. You are there. YOU are there, not a body. I can't accept this, I just can't. Not even a week ago, we were hiding in your cabin, warm and alive. So alive. You're alive. You have to be. Please be alive.
2183 – August 9
It's only been a week. They never looked for you. How can they declare you dead? After saving their asses, the Council just doesn't care about you. Garrus told me he thinks you're more valuable to them as a martyr, and I'm beginning to think he might be right. Assholes.
2183 – August 16
Funerals are bullshit, Lia. Especially public ones full of people talking about how great you were. None of them really knew you, except for Anderson. Garrus had to hold on to my shoulder when Udina stood up to give a speech. I almost got up and yelled. That fucker had NO right to say anything about you! Every step of the way, he used you to try and push himself up the political ladder. Didn't even know you. Both he and the Council outright refused to look for you at all. It was an empty casket. Seeing your official photo next to it almost killed me.
I still haven't given up.
2183 – August 30
They're dissolving the crew. There were too many non-Alliance personnel aboard the Normandy and no officer wants to take over. Anderson asked me if I wanted command. With you and Pressly gone, I was next in line. I refused. Never told you this, but he offered me a promotion, ship and crew during that week of interviews and debriefings after the Citadel battle. Declined that one, too. I keep trying to decide if it was stupid or not. Would you have made it out if I wasn't there?
2183 – September 3
It's been a month. A month of hell. You know, Hackett asked me if I needed some therapy today. I began to laugh but then I realized he was serious. No amount of therapy is going to help this. Every day, it feels like I wake up, half-alive. We didn't have a lot of time together in the grand scheme of things, but I'm never going to be over it. Over us. Over you. I can't even find it in me to give a shit about the Reapers right now. No one can rally people like you could, Lia. We're doomed without you.
2183 – September 6
Didn't sleep last night. Every time I start to drift off, you reach out for me; when we're just about to touch, you fall into nothing.
2183 – September 15
Garrus has no idea what he's talking about. Sure, he looked up to you, a lot, but this is different. Even so, I probably shouldn't have yelled at him like that. I can see you now, mouth twisting and eyebrow rising. Demanding I go apologize. I will tomorrow. I promise.
2183 – September 27
I can't do this.
2183 – October 1
If I have one more 'inquiry' from a reporter about what it was like to work with the famed Commander Shepard, I'm going to punch someone. And it won't be pretty. They're still swarming around all of us, like locusts trying to find a scrap of news to blow out of proportion. Twist into a headline for some press. It's sickening.
2183 – October 10
Fuck. They're using you in Alliance ads now. The second I heard your voice, I stopped breathing. Hope beyond hope… But then I found the source. An application dispenser with your face. I'm not going to lie, Lia. I almost broke down right there in the Wards. I can't stay here anymore, not while those things are around.
2183 – October 19
I walked by your apartment today.
2183 – October 30
Anderson came to me with a few covert missions today. In case anyone ever actually finds this, I don't want to put any details down, but it's the kind of stuff you'd love. Undercover solo missions with highly sensitive goals. It'll be good to be back in the field. Garrus was right: you wouldn't sit around and refuse active duty. You'd get out there and kick ass, take names, and set it right. That's what I'm going to do. For you.
2183 – November 2
Getting back into the routine of active duty is a good distraction, at least while I'm awake.
2183 – November 6
This is more dangerous than I thought it'd be. I'll do my best to stay alive, even if I don't want to. You'll kick my ass if I purposefully myself get killed. God, every night is torture. I keep dreaming about you.
2183 – November 17
And I thought Noveria was cold. Shit. You'd be laughing your ass off at me, and that thought's the only thing keeping me warm right now.
2183 – November 25
Wonder if this is how you felt on Elysium.
2183 – November 31
Getting treated for frostbite is more painful than it should be. At least I'm not going to lose anything. It was a close call but the mission was a success. Being alone in the thick of things was good because it left me barely any time to think about you. Stuck in the medbay leaves me nothing but time.
2183 – December 2
I need to get out of here. Can't stop thinking of that time we almost got caught by Chakwas in the Normandy's medbay. I miss you.
2183 – December 4
Hackett promoted me to Lieutenant Commander for that last mission. He says he would've given me a medal, but they can't officially sanction what happened…it's a weird feeling. My next assignment is classified too, but it's going to bring back a lot of stuff I had buried. Dammit. It's too important to say no, or I would.
2183 – December 10
Everywhere I turn, I swear I see a flash of bright red. Things are as dirty and rough as your stories. How did a kid grow up in this? You were even stronger than I thought.
2183 – December 12
Saw a little girl today, clearly starving and cold. Her hair was black and her face was rounder, but all I could think of was your story about refusing to beg for food. She had the same spirit that you did; flat out refused the rations and coat I offered her at first. Couldn't do any more than that without breaking my cover… I hope she grabbed both after I left them behind.
2183 – December 16
Tomorrow's the moment of truth. I don't even know if you'd have done something this stupid.
2183 – December 17
I have no idea how I made it through that alive. That one gash on my arm is going to scar up pretty bad, I'll bet. I'm on shore leave for the next two months, then Anderson twisted my arm into agreeing to taking over a spec ops program, the first division of biotics. The recruits are barely more than teens, and I don't think I'm cut out for it, but he insisted it had to be me. Can't argue with his kind of experience.
2183 – December 25
I sent out messages to the ground team from the Normandy, asking them if they want to go to Alchera with me. Wrex said he'd down a whole bottle of Ryncol for you but that things were too fragile on Tuchanka to risk leaving. Tali can't make it, either; apparently she's caught up in some kind of quarian political debate. Seems like that data you gave her made her very important. Liara offered to accompany me, and Anderson got back saying he'd be honored to "pay his respects." That sounds so final. Joker told me to go to hell, but I don't know if that's a bad thing. You'd probably be really pissed at me for what I said after the funeral. I refuse to apologize. It IS his damn fault. Garrus is the only one who didn't respond…I have no idea where he is. Hope he's alright. Out of all the people I contacted, he's probably the one who would understand the most.
2183 – December 31
Thinking over this past year, there's only one thing I'd do differently. I'd sling you over my fucking shoulder and I'd drag you into the escape shuttle, kicking and screaming.