He looked down at the datapad in his hand, the paused image of his husband flickering, the distortion lending Robert's mahogany skin an orangey hue. He couldn't remember how long he'd stood there. He was vaguely aware of other people passing by, and of the occasional prayer being said or the quiet, dignified sighs that barely held in ear-splitting screams.

Those screams were held tightly within. He knew that only too well. Without an outlet, they were like a black, cancerous growth that fed on pain, loneliness and despair.

Steve Cortez had a growth of his own.

Robert had been lost eleven months and six days ago, his last action to ensure that his beloved husband had fled the colony in time. Here, in Steve's hands, was the recording of the last conversation that had taken place between them – the only thing Steve had left of Robert. Of all the photos, the gifts, the keepsakes, why had Steve grabbed that in his haste?

Shepard had gently counselled – after finding Steve in tears while listening to it – that perhaps he should remember the good times with Robert, and not dwell on his last moments. Steve knew his commander – friend – was right. It wasn't healthy.

But it was all he had left.

Could he relinquish it? Just let it go? What he held in his hand was Robert – it held his image, his voice. What if…

What if Steve forgot what Robert looked like? What his voice sounded like?

Panic and guilt swelled inside him. How could he even think about doing this? This thing tethered him to Robert's memory – kept him alive, in a way. If he gave it up now, if he cut it loose, he'd be cast adrift on a sea of regret and guilt, without direction or purpose. He couldn't do it. He couldn't let it go.

Don't make me an anchor, Steve! Promise me!

Tears swelled behind his eyes and the already-distorted image of Robert became blurred. He squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed them, banishing the tears but not the sting in the back of his throat.

"Are you okay?"

He tightly gripped the datapad and slowly opened his eyes, turning his head slightly away from the voice. That voice. He nodded without speaking, not trusting himself to do so yet. He needed to clear his throat or take a deep breath but that would give the game away, wouldn't it?

"I was just passing by. I saw you standing here and wondered if you'd like some company. Maybe it'll help? Maybe not."

The voice was soft, understanding. It reached out to him, offered friendship, solace, sympathy. Commander Shepard had been a source of all of those things to Steve since they'd met a few months earlier. Shepard understood pain, loss. Like Steve, he'd lost his parents – his whole family, in fact – on Mindoir. He'd said goodbye to countless crew and friends over the years. In fact, Shepard had recently returned from a gruelling campaign on Tuchanka, during which another of his friends – Dr. Mordin Solus – had died.

Steve got that. He got that Shepard, that other people, had lost loved ones. He got that Shepard was in pain, too. But he couldn't feel it, he couldn't empathise. Because, right now, he felt like the only person in the world who'd suffered loss.

Grief did that. Grief was selfish and self-centred. Steve knew that he should rejoice that Robert was now at peace, immune to terror or hurt. But he couldn't. He was still grieving. And he wasn't grieving for Robert – he was grieving for himself, for what he'd lost. He accepted that.

The trouble was, grief had a habit of making one numb to the suffering of others.

After a pause, Steve finally cleared his throat and once again glanced down at the datapad. He couldn't look at Shepard because doing so would further compound his guilt. Here he was, mourning the loss of his husband, and standing next to him was the man who made his heart race every time Steve looked into those blue eyes of his.

What kind of man did that make Steve?

"I've been standing here for… I don't know. I just keep staring at it," he managed. "I don't think I…"

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he felt Shepard edge slightly closer. "You can do this, Steve. Remember when we talked the other day? You were so determined then. You need to do this – you said so yourself."

"I know what I said, but…" Steve held up the flickering image of his husband. "Now that it comes down to it, I don't know if I can."

"What did Robert look like?" Shepard asked, and Steve frowned in confusion, finally venturing a glance at the other man.

Shepard looked tired. Bone-tired. He hadn't shaved for a couple of days and his pale skin was dull, almost grey-tinged; his cheekbones seemed more prominent than ever, and his haunted look was completed by the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Even those sparkling blue eyes – usually so full of fire and zeal – were dimmed, and Steve felt the familiar flutter in his belly, but this time it wrenched him as he felt Shepard's pain, just briefly.

"He was… well, it was a running joke. He kinda looked like me," Steve murmured softly with a fond half-smile. "He had darker skin and was a bit taller than me, but our friends used to joke that both of us were so vain that we married someone who looked just like ourselves."

"So he didn't have orange skin, then? Or purple eyes?" Shepard pointed at the grainy image on the datapad – the footage quality hadn't been great to start with, but pausing it had warped the picture almost beyond recognition.

"Yeah, I see what you're trying to do," said Steve with a sigh, "but this is all I have left of him."

"That's not Robert," Shepard insisted. "Look at it. Your husband didn't look like that. Robert will always live on in your memories, in your heart. That's just a datapad, Steve. Look at it. Be strong."

Steve stared at the datapad and the wavering image on it. Shepard was right – it didn't look like Robert. It looked like an alien. It was full of weird colours and ragged edges and, if he looked at it long enough, it almost didn't look like a person at all.

"I know you can do this," Shepard encouraged. "I'll stay if you want me to."

Steve recognised the meaning behind Shepard's words. He'd never heard Shepard order anyone to do anything – the commander had a clever way of planting things in people's heads and making them feel like it had been their idea. He was persuasive and charming and no one ever disagreed with him, because he left no room for argument.

Steve's eyes met Shepard's and he found steel in the commander's gaze. A fleeting light had returned to Shepard's eyes before it was gone again.

"You can do this," Shepard repeated, an indefinable firmness in his voice and the set of his jaw. "I'm staying right here. I'm with you."

Not quite sure what was happening, Steve found himself walking towards the wall. With weightless hands he placed the datapad down next to the candles, flowers and notes that were strewn across the large shelf beneath the memorial.

He couldn't let Shepard down.

For a moment he was tempted to replay the vid, but he knew that if he did, the alien on the screen would become Robert again, and he'd lose his nerve. He needed to do this – not just for Shepard but for himself.

"Goodbye, Robert," he thought he said.

He felt his body grow light as it became detached from its moorings and he began to float away, alone, unsupported, adrift. Then, a steadying hand on his back steered him back on course, and he once again felt the ground beneath his feet.

"I'm proud of you, Steve. I knew you could do it."

Steve nodded, his eyes travelling upwards, countless faces looking back at him. The faces of loved ones that other people had lost. For a second, Steve thought of the friend that Shepard had recently lost.

"Shepard, I-"

"I'll leave you be," said the commander knowingly. "If you want to talk, you know where to find me."

Steve exhaled and stared into space for a moment, realising that Shepard had departed, the supporting hand gone. He glanced down at his feet, checking that the ground was still there. Then, he looked over his shoulder, taking a few seconds to find Shepard, who'd paused on the walkway and was leaning against a railing, his other hand clasping the back of his neck.

Looking back at the wall again, Steve remembered that other people were hurting, as well. Shepard was hurting, he could see that. And, despite all that, the commander had still found the time to offer a sliver of comfort to a friend.

Maybe Steve should be doing that, too.

He glanced back at the walkway but Shepard was gone. Steeling himself against lingering at the memorial, he turned his back on it, reminding himself that he was not turning his back on Robert but on a datapad. He felt the heavy presence of Robert's memory behind him but still didn't turn back.

He needed to do this.

"Lieutenant Cortez, isn't it?"

Steve blinked and whipped around, finding himself on the walkway, going vaguely in the direction of the elevator. He recognised the man in front of him – he'd been on the shuttle back to the Normandy after Udina's attempted coup – but Steve couldn't remember his name. He straightened up and offered the man Shepard had called major a crisp salute.

"Yes, sir."

The dark-haired man returned the salute before relaxing his posture. "At ease, Lieutenant. I'm looking for Shepard. Have you seen him around?"

"Yes, sir, just a moment ago. He was at the wall with me." He gestured over his shoulder, and the other man frowned, appearing agitated.

"Has he gone back to the Normandy? Do you know he's been up for nearly forty hours straight? I only just found out. Hell, he was too busy saving my ass. Damnit!"

"I'm afraid I don't know, sir," Steve mumbled. "We were headed for the Citadel to take a break after Tuchanka, but… well. Cerberus."

"Yeah. Cerberus," the major repeated irascibly before sighing. "Did you hear anything about Shepard's friend? Thane Krios? He was critically injured during the incident on the Citadel."

"I'm sorry, I don't know about that, Major…?" Steve answered, dread burning his stomach. Another one of Shepard's friends? "Maybe he went to the hospital?"

"Alenko," Kaidan clarified before activating his earpiece. "I made a few friends at the hospital. I'll find out. Doctor Michel?" he said, waiting for a beat. "Hey, Doctor, it's Kaidan Alenko. Yeah, I'm good, thank you. I was wondering about Mr. Krios's condition? He's a drell who was brought in earlier with a serious abdominal stab wound."

A pause ensued before Kaidan's shoulders drooped and he released a heavy sigh. "I see. Thank you, Doctor. Kaidan out."

He turned back to Steve, his handsome features twisted with anxiety. "Damn," he whispered, shaking his head. "Thane passed about an hour ago and Shepard was with him. Lieutenant, I'm heading to the Normandy. If you see Shepard, would you please send him to me?"

"Actually, sir, I was on my way back there myself, but I can stay here and look for him if you'd like," Steve offered, his heart clenching.

"No, that's okay. With me, Lieutenant," Kaidan ordered as he headed for the elevator. "You said Shepard had visited the wall?"

Steve shrugged. "No, sir, I was the one visiting the wall. Shepard… gave me some moral support."

Kaidan's face dropped. "Oh. I'm sorry." He held out his hand. "Kaidan Alenko. We'll be serving together – Shepard asked me to assist against the Reapers."

"Steve Cortez, sir," replied Steve as he shook the major's hand. "It's an honour to serve with you."

"Well, Steve, let's go find Shepard," said Kaidan resolutely.

~o~O~o~

Shepard had indeed returned to the Normandy. With EDI's help, Kaidan and Steve found him hunched over the bar in the Port Observation Lounge. A concerned crewman who'd remained in the room was quietly sent away with a nod from Kaidan, and the major pulled out a bar stool, taking a seat next to Shepard while Steve hovered by the door.

"Hey, Kaidan," Shepard slurred, nudging an empty glass towards him and waving a half-empty bottle of something… green. "Join me, ol' pal."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Shepard," Kaidan gently remonstrated, glancing over his shoulder at Steve, not wanting another crew member to see their commander in such a state. He knew, however, that he'd need Steve's help to get Shepard out of there. "You need to get some rest," he advised Shepard.

"What I need," Shepard asserted with a fierce frown, "is to have a drink to my friends. My fallen friends. Our fallen friends. I thought you'd understand that, Kaidan!"

"I do." Kaidan laid a hand on Shepard's arm and once again glanced at Steve, who averted his eyes, feeling awkward and helpless. "All right. Let's have a quick toast and then we'll get you to your cabin, okay?"

"Good man. I knew you wouldn't let me down," said Shepard, almost pulling Kaidan off the stool as he slung an arm around the major's shoulders. "You… you pour. I'm havin' a little trouble focusing here."

Holding in a sigh, Kaidan poured a small amount of the unidentified drink into each glass and passed one to Shepard, indicating with his hand that Steve should sit down behind them. Before he did, Steve activated his omni-tool and discreetly locked the door, an action met with an approving nod from Kaidan.

"To Ashley," Shepard toasted, holding his glass aloft.

"Ash," said Kaidan quietly.

"To all our friends who were taken by the Collectors," Shepard went on, his voice catching. Kaidan raised his own glass and waited for Shepard to continue, knowing there was more to come.

"To Mordin…" Shepard surprised both men by throwing his head back and laughing. "He was the very model of a scientist salarian, he studied species turian, asari and bata-" He sang tunelessly before stopping abruptly, his shoulders quaking as he slammed the glass down on the counter, his head bowed.

From where he was sitting, Steve craned his neck, uncertain whether the commander was still laughing or… not laughing. He looked at Kaidan, who was waiting patiently, concerned but unsurprised. Clearly, this was not the first time Shepard had behaved in such a way.

"Shepard," Kaidan prompted. "Let's go."

"No!" Shepard's head snapped up and he knocked back the contents of the glass before engaging in a grappling match with the major for possession of the bottle. "Give me that!"

"You've had enough, Commander!"

"I haven't toasted Thane yet, you son of a bitch!" Shepard grabbed the bottle off Kaidan and began to refill his glass, most of what was left in the bottle spilling onto the counter. While Shepard ruminated over the contents of his glass, Kaidan quickly moved the bottle and threw it down the waste disposal chute before retaking his seat.

"Are you done?" Shepard demanded, and Kaidan nodded, raising his empty glass. "To Thane," Shepard said unsteadily, staring intensely at the glass. "One of the finest assassins I ever knew. One of the finest men I ever knew. He… he said a prayer for me. He…"

Steve watched in alarm as Shepard's knuckles turned white around the glass, and for a moment he feared the glass would break and injure Shepard's hand. He was startled out of his musings, however, when the glass was launched against the far wall, smashing into pieces as Shepard slumped over the counter, burying his head between his arms, his shoulders once again trembling. And this time he was definitely not laughing. Steve slowly rose to his feet, wanting to help but not knowing how.

"Commander Shepard, Admiral Anderson is available in the war room on vid-com," Traynor's voice announced via Shepard's omni-tool.

"I'll see to that," Kaidan quickly replied, standing up. "Shepard is unavailable. Make that for the rest of today, Traynor."

"Oh… right you are, Major. I mean, yes, sir!"

Kaidan glanced first at Shepard, then at Cortez. "Lieutenant, I need you to stay with him until I'm done. Can you do that? Don't let him drink anything else. Try to give him water if you can."

"Yes, sir, I can do that," Steve replied solemnly.

Kaidan nodded and sighed before moving to the door and unlocking it with his omni-tool. "Keep this door locked," he ordered. "And Lieutenant? This stays between us," he added firmly.

"Absolutely, sir," Steve promised.

"Kaid," Shepard mumbled, raising his head with great difficulty. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disrespec' your mama. Sorry. Sorry."

"No harm done," Kaidan replied as he gave his friend a pitying look before departing.

The door closed behind Kaidan and Steve quickly locked it before moving closer to Shepard, whose head now rested on his hands, his eyes closed. Not wanting to impose himself, Steve began to pick up some of the larger pieces of broken glass off the floor.

"One of the sanitation drones can do that," Shepard maundered, and Steve rose, placing the shards on the counter out of Shepard's reach.

"It's okay, sir. I got it. Shepard… why don't you come sit down?"

"I am sitting down," the commander argued, his eyes rolling in his head.

"There's a couch just over there," Steve pointed out, moving around the counter and stopping a foot away from Shepard. "You'd be more comfortable."

"And it keeps me away from the booze, right?"

"Well… there is that as well."

Shepard blearily looked up at Steve, seeing the concern and sadness in his shuttle pilot's eyes. He sighed, remembering their time at the memorial wall. Poor Steve didn't need this on top of everything else.

"All right, Steve. You win. Let's do this."

"Yeah. Let's do this," Steve echoed, wondering how he was going to get Shepard to the couch, which was about six feet away. He moved right next to Shepard and snaked an arm around his waist. With his other hand he hoisted Shepard's arm around his own shoulders. "Ready?"

"Be gentle with me, Steve," Shepard said softly, looking directly into Steve's eyes.

Steve looked away and gulped, cursing his stomach for flipping over. Not now! "I'll do my best, sir," he answered evenly, quickly swivelling his hips and grabbing Shepard around the waist with both arms when the commander's legs buckled. "Okay, sir, I'm gonna need you to pick those legs up," he grunted against Shepard's cheek as he held the commander up.

"S-sorry," was all Shepard could manage and, gritting his teeth, Steve dragged Shepard over to the couch, both men collapsing onto it before Steve hastily climbed off Shepard and helped him to sit up.

"Sorry, sir."

"S'okay." Shepard slumped back and Steve lifted Shepard's legs onto the couch before standing and bracing his hands against his back as he pushed his hips forward.

"You all right?" Shepard mumbled in concern.

"Why don't you ask my chiropractor?" Steve replied wryly before taking a seat on the couch opposite.

Shepard closed his eyes and groaned, his head swimming. Shit. Poor Steve really didn't need this. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," answered Shepard around a sigh, his eyes still closed. "You… shouldn't have seen that. I didn't even know you were there until Kaidan had gone. He's the one who usually bears the brunt when I… well, it's not the first time, put it that way. Crap."

"It's understandable you'd need to let off steam once in a while," Steve reasoned. "You're not a machine. The things you've had to do… the people you've lost. I don't think I could… I'm sorry. I heard about your friend today. You've lost two important people in as many days and here's me harping on about someone who died almost a year ago."

"Hey, he was your husband!" Shepard protested, vaguely pointing in Steve's direction as his eyes opened a crack. "Don't you let anyone tell you how long you should mourn him! When you love someone, I mean really love them, then… what you felt for them is yours. You get to keep that for the rest of your life and… it's special," he said, his voice growing quiet. "Nobody knows what it feels like until they've been through it themselves. If you want to harp on about Robert, then you damn well do it. To hell with everyone else."

Steve watched as the commander's eyes opened but were cast downwards, his brow wrinkled, his chest heaving.

"You sound like you speak from experience, sir," Steve ventured quietly, shuffling forward to the edge of the couch.

"I… I do," Shepard replied almost reluctantly, as though the words had been torn from him. "Maybe… you might be the only one who really understands."

"You've been a great comfort to me, Shepard," said Steve, his hands clasped together in front of him as he watched Shepard push himself to a sitting position. "If I can help you in any way, no matter how small, I'd be glad to do so. To be honest, it'd give me something else to think about, as well."

Shepard nodded, his eyes closing again, his hands resting in his lap. Steve waited, and after a minute or two he thought Shepard had fallen asleep.

"I knew Thane was dying when I met him," Shepard said out of nowhere, but his voice was too soft to startle Steve. "He had Kepral's Syndrome – a condition exclusive to drell. There's no cure. Well, there might be in a few years' time, but it'll come too late for Thane. He was still active, though, and able to fight and accompany me on missions."

"What was he like?" Steve asked. "I've never met a drell before."

"Well, generally speaking, drell are a lot like humans or asari. They look like us, sound like us and are pretty similar in a lot of ways. There are several differences as well, but none of them are insurmountable." He paused for a while, and Steve went to the bar, returning with a large tumbler of water, which he passed to Shepard.

"Thanks." Shepard drank about half of it before sighing again, his eyes misting over. "Speaking for Thane, he was… he was humble, thoughtful, deeply spiritual. Gentle, as well. Ha! A gentle assassin. Sounds like a contradiction, doesn't it? We used to… we had these long talks. He was so intelligent and wise. I really… I really admired him." Shepard cleared his throat before drinking the rest of the water and setting the glass down on the small table between the two couches.

"I used to take him and Garrus out with me a lot, unless we needed someone like Grunt. Most of the time, though, it was us three. We were long-distance specialists and we'd pick hostiles off from up in the mountains. It was great. Thane and I tried our best, but neither of us could hold a candle to Garrus," he recalled fondly. "Not that we'd tell Garrus that, of course. His head's big enough. Literally."

A look of sadness crossed Shepard's face, then, and Steve rose, moving a small chair next to the end of the couch where Shepard was seated. "And?" Steve prompted as he sat down.

"And… I lost touch with him after we dealt with the Collectors. It was for the best, really, or so I thought. And then, a few days ago, he contacted me via the extranet. It… hit me like a ton of bricks, Steve. Right here." He laid a hand on his chest. "When I saw him at the hospital, when it was obvious that he was really ill…" He shook his head before releasing a shaky breath and falling silent.

"It sounds to me like you had feelings for him, sir," Steve guessed.

Shepard cast his eyes downwards and nodded almost imperceptibly. "I was in love with him," he confessed in a whisper, feeling a warm hand fold around his.

"Oh, Shepard, I'm so sorry," Steve consoled sadly. "I had no idea that… you know."

"Didn't you?" asked Shepard. "I thought maybe you knew. I've never told anyone. About Thane, I mean. Garrus and Kaidan know about me, but no one knew how I felt about Thane."

"Did Thane know?"

Shepard shook his head. "He wasn't like us. He was married to a female and they had a son, but she died several years ago. I'm going to stay in touch with Kolyat. The poor kid's lost both of his parents, now. Thane asked me to keep a discreet eye on him when the time came."

"Shit," Steve mumbled, closing his eyes and hanging his head.

"I'm sorry to heap all this on you," said Shepard drowsily. "You've had a rough enough day as it is."

"You've had it rougher," Steve replied, keeping hold of Shepard's hand. "And it's okay, really. I feel… I don't know. Different, somehow."

Shepard gave a faint half-smile and squeezed the pilot's hand. "That's great, Steve."

"How do you feel, sir? If… it's not a dumb question."

"Tired."

"Then get some sleep. Can I trust you not to drink the bar dry?"

"No, I don't think so," Shepard mumbled, his eyelids growing heavy. "I think I need you to stay with me. Just in case."

"Of course. It's the least I can do." Steve stood up and Shepard sat forward, allowing Steve to sit in the small space behind him on the couch. Shepard then settled back against Steve's shoulder, feeling the pilot's arms wrap around his neck. "Go to sleep, Shepard," Steve murmured softly. "I'm staying right here. I'm with you."

And there he stayed, until Kaidan returned a while later to find them both asleep. The major watched them for a moment before quietly slipping out, ensuring the door was once again locked.

~o~O~o~

The following morning, James was hard at work in the hangar when a clean-shaven Commander Shepard walked through the bay doors.

"Hey, Loco. Back in action?" he asked. Yesterday, Traynor had diverted all command queries to Major Alenko, which was fair enough in James's mind – he was the one who'd alerted Kaidan that Shepard hadn't slept for close to two days.

That morning, out of curiosity, James had asked EDI if Shepard had returned to duty yet, to which she'd answered, "After breakfast."

"Sure am, James," Shepard replied, reaching for the younger marine's hand and shaking it. "Thanks. I appreciate what you did."

James feigned confusion before shrugging and resuming his task. "So, what brings you down here?" he asked casually.

"I was looking for Cortez, actually. He around?"

James looked over his shoulder before cupping a hand to his mouth. "Hey, Esteban!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "Where you at, man?"

"Do you have to shout like that?" chastised a muffled voice from up above, where one of the shuttles was held several feet above the ground by clamps. "You never heard of the saying? Empty vessels make the most noise? No, I guess not – that'd involve you actually reading something. Preferably with pictures."

"He's a little sour," James explained for Shepard's benefit. "Never been a morning person."

"When you've quite finished talking about me-" Steve began, his head popping out of the open hatch. "Oh. Commander. Just… just hold on a sec."

The clamps were released and the shuttle was slowly lowered down, Steve jumping out when it was a couple of feet from the floor before walking over to James and Shepard. "Good morning, sir. Everything okay?"

"You got a minute, Lieutenant?" Shepard asked with a sideways glance at James, who'd already returned to his task.

"Uh, yeah, of course. My office?" asked Steve, thumbing towards the far end of the bay. Shepard nodded and followed Cortez to the small work station, which was partitioned off.

"Are you okay, sir?" Steve asked once Vega was out of sight. "I was… I've been worrying about you all night. Hence my sour disposition, as James so astutely put it."

"I'm… okay, now I've gotten some sleep," Shepard answered slowly, leaning against the side of Steve's desk and crossing his ankles. "Steve, I came down here to apologise to you. The way I acted in front of you was totally unacceptable. You shouldn't have witnessed your CO behaving like that. No matter what-"

"I didn't witness anything, sir," Steve answered immediately. "Except you acting like a human being. No apology necessary. And if you're worried that I've lost respect for you, sir, then don't. If anything, I respect you even more, and I didn't think that was possible. And you're not just my CO," he added, forestalling Shepard's argument. "You're a friend. A good one."

Shepard blinked in surprise, reminding himself just how stubborn and determined his softly-spoken pilot could be at times. A small smile curved one side of his mouth, and he exhaled in relief. "That means a lot to me, Steve. And I consider you a good friend, too."

Steve nodded. "Glad to hear it, Shepard."

Both men glanced around the office, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Maybe," they began together before grinning and quietly laughing.

"Maybe one day," Shepard finished gently, and Steve felt a sensation, deep and warm, settle in the pit of his stomach.

"One day," he confirmed, their eyes meeting briefly.

"I, uh, sent something to you," said Shepard, turning away and pointing at Steve's monitor. "I had to do some digging. Liara let me use her office, but she doesn't know what I was looking for. I told her it was private and she said she'd respect that."

"Sir?" Steve asked in confusion.

"Just take a look. When I've gone, and when you're alone. It's to say thank you for yesterday."

"You don't need to thank me-"

"Just shut up and look at it, okay?" Shepard ordered with a faint smile. "I should go. I'll catch you later. And thanks for being there for me. It helped a lot to know that someone else understands."

Steve watched him walk the length of the shuttle bay and, as Shepard called out a farewell to James and departed, Steve sat at his desk and opened his emails, finding half a dozen. His eyes were immediately drawn to the fourth one, entitled, 'Thank you'.

He opened it to find a blank message from Shepard with two media files attached, one a zip folder and the other a vid. He moved the cursor to the zip file, and the legend Wedding Album was highlighted.

"Oh, God… you d-didn't…"

With trembling hands, Steve opened the file, several photos of two beaming men in morning suits flashing up on the screen. He silently enlarged the first one, his face crumpling as he attempted to view the pictures through his tears.

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, his heart swelling as he traced the crystal-clear outline of Robert's face with his finger. "Damn, you were handsome, Robert," he wavered, joy and lightness bubbling up inside him. "Almost as handsome as your husband."

Shepard had been right about the vid Steve had left at the memorial wall. Steve had clung onto it for so long, believing it to be the only thing in the world that remained of Robert. But there was so much more, and only a little digging through the Shadow Broker's information network had been needed to set it free. The vid of the moment of Robert's death had made Steve cry each time he'd watched it. And now he was crying again, but for a different reason entirely.

This was a beautiful sadness, a cleansing sadness, one that would eventually heal and free him. He would do as Shepard had counselled and remember the good times with Robert. And, given enough time, he would help Shepard to remember Thane in the same way.

Neither of them were ready for what they'd almost given voice to. Not yet. But for now, they could be friends to each other while they healed. And they'd do that together.

A bright smile lit up his face as fresh tears fell. He'd found a purpose, a direction. He would help Shepard to feel the way he felt right now. And they would walk into the future cleansed and whole. Healed.

Together. One day.

He closed the files, leaving the vid for later when he'd be truly alone. Returning to the emails, he retrieved Shepard's original message and clicked on reply.

Thank you, dear friend, he typed before hitting send.

Thank you for reading! And a special thank-you to CCBug for the encouragement.