Kaidan,

By the time you read this, I'll be through the Omega 4 Relay. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to reply to your message, but I've been putting it off. Something to hold on to, I suppose. It's late now; everyone is asleep, or preparing as they know best. I'm sitting in my cabin with nothing to hold on to but your letter. I have a strong team. I like most of them, the ship flies like a dream and it turns out Joker is a friend as well as a brilliant pilot. I still can't shake the bad taste in my mouth, though. I suppose that's why I'm finally writing to you. I'm sorry if this turns out morbid.

You accused me of working for Cerberus, of being a traitor to the Alliance and everything we fought for two years ago. Thanks for the apology, by the way. I do appreciate it. You told me your point of view; now let me tell you mine.

I lived in unconsciousness and then pain for two years. I could hear them talking about me sometimes, see the lights above, but couldn't move or think or do anything. Then Miranda woke me up early and set me shooting. It felt like I'd been asleep a day or two, no more. So allow me some leeway; once that Cerberus facility was behind us I had no time to even breathe. I'd been dead for two years. And then the Illusive Man told me people were being taken and it felt like Eden Prime all over again. Back where we started; galaxy to save, no time for personal issues.

I know what it is to grieve. I know the process. I know the pain. I knew that the old Normandy crew had moved on, and rightly so. But how could I move on from friendships, relationships that, for me, were still current? I woke up two years behind the rest of the galaxy. My brain still struggles to catch up. In a way I suppose it's just as well I'm out hunting Collectors. I think I'd go mad if I didn't have a gun in my hand and an enemy to fight right now. Maybe later, if I come back from the Omega 4—maybe then I'll have time to sit in one place for more than two hours and just ... think.

As I said on Horizon: I don't blame you for moving on. Once I'd sorted some things out ... it was very tempting to hack into Anderson's computer and track you down. I could probably have convinced him to tell me your location anyway. But ... there are ways in which I'm a coward, and forcing my presence back into your life, into the lives of people who had already grieved and moved on, felt wrong. Arrogant. The galaxy hasn't welcomed me back with open arms, but I didn't expect that. I didn't expect you to be overjoyed to see me, or that I was working with Cerberus (I am not working for Cerberus). I didn't expect anyone to drop what they were doing and come with me just because we fought together two years ago. Having said that, you might like to know that Tali and Garrus are with me. Tali has grown up a great deal. Garrus ... well, he's had a rough time.

I'm rambling. I began this letter to say thank you, goodbye, and I'm glad you moved on—for your sake. I am doing my best not to be selfish right now, but I think I'm losing the battle: I love you, I miss you, I'm sorry for anything I did that hurt you.

To be honest, Kaidan, whatever I've been telling my crew, I have no expectations of coming back. The Collectors destroyed the Normandy once. Everyone is focused on the mission, but we have no idea what we're going up against. For my sake, be prepared. One way or another this is going to change the galaxy. I just wish you were here with me. I'm coward enough to admit that.

If I do come back ... well, it's your choice now. Delete this letter or keep it, up to you. I'm sure Anderson will know where to find me. I am so tired. Should get some sleep; we've got a few hours before we reach the relay. Be well; be safe.

And yes, I remember Ilos. Nothing else keeps me going.

Shepard