A/N: Well, here I am again - and say it aloud, I know I'm damn slow when updating this. Bt I'm still updating, that counts as something, right? Right?!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but this piece of writing. But to have a bottle of Saurian Brandy...

Two

He still couldn't quite believe what have happened just today.

He had been down to the armoury, checking the shuttle, minding his own business, when out of nowhere Shepard appeared behind him – and almost literally kicked him from the Normandy to get some shore leave off the damned ship again.

And so he found himself roaming the docks for some time, before he finally decided to finally visit the memorial wall.

The wall was truly a memorial to all of those who left a mourning family behind them; there were photos of families, letters never sent, some plush toys… There were even last messages exchanged with those who died.

Once again for him, the first thing he took with him was memo with Robert's last call, and as he stared at the wall in front of him, he replayed the conversation in his head.

"I love you, Steve. I love you, but I know you. Do not make this, do not make me, your anchor…"

He was absolutely unsurprised, when Shepard appeared by his side, with few mementos of her on. "Fancy seeing you here," she said with a small smile, as she walked over to the wall. She placed several photos on it – mostly various people in Alliance uniforms. One of the pictures she placed on the wall fell down; he leant down to take it, so Shepard could place it back.

It was picture of youthful looking man, who with wide smile showed his Alliance academy diploma to whoever was holding the camera.

"That is Richard. Richard Jenkins, Corporal. He was first of the Normandy crew who died in the war against the Reapers. On Eden Prime," said Shepard as an explanation to his unvoiced question.

She pointed to another picture; this time a young woman with dark hair, surrounded by several other, obviously younger women, all of them laughing. "Ashley Williams. She died on Virmire, defending the bomb we set there to destroy Saren's krogan breedding grounds." She smiled a bit. "Grand-daughter of General Williams. Never got a decent posting because of that, and then she became a part of Normandy crew."

She caressed the frame of the picture. "When she died, I made Anderson to acknowledge her sacrifice and give her commendation for exemplary service. Last I heard from her sisters, they finally had been able to get some decent postings themselves."

Last picture she placed there had been older looking man, wearing Alliance officer uniform, standing by the galaxy map on the bridge. He was tapping something on the console when the picture was taken – only to look after the photographer right before the light went off; his face holding expression of polite interest, although the corners of his mouth were slightly upwards. "And this is Charles Pressly, Navigation Officer and also my XO." She smiled fondly. "And he could sing Presley's songs for hours, but if you pressed him about that, he would deny everything."

She told him at least short anecdotes about every single person on the rest of the photographs; their names, about their families, sometimes a funny story. Armstrong over here liked to play trombone. Novak liked to knit in his free time – she once teased him about that and next time she came back from a mission, there had been a knitted cup, scarf and pair of gloves, all in bright pink colour, waiting for her in her quarters. Johnson liked to play mikado with her crewmates. Heimlich was ship's grandmaster in Mensch, ängere dich nicht! Konyev liked to sing Russian songs and play strategic games.

"What about you, Steve? What brought you here?" she asked in the end, her tone curious but without the undertone which would send him bristling. He looked at the holo in his hand. "Ah. This… this is recording of Robert's last call. I know I should leave him rest, Allison, I really do," he said, looking at her, "but part of me feels as if I was forgetting him."

Allison scowled at hearing that. "That is nonsense, Steve," she said hotly. She pressed one palm against his chest, while tapping at his forehead with her other hand. "Your brain will never forget him, just like your heart won't."

She dropped her hands and took a look at the Memorial wall. "The place over there," she pointed next to a plush bear, "looks like there would be a good company for your Robert."

With one last look, he turned the recording on, Robert's voice flowing around him as he placed the holo there. Shepard followed after him calmly, waiting, and when he just stood there and stared, she slowly walked over and pulled him away from the Memorial Wall.

"I'm proud of you, Steve," she said quietly, enveloping him in gentle hug. "Now," she changed topics, "let's get you elsewhere – I have it on good authority that there is bunch of people who are dying to see you."

Just like before, he didn't have any time to at least try to protest, before Shepard dragged him away to Purgatory, to one of the lounges where a bunch of people, mostly dressed in hoodies, were waiting.

"Steve! Hey, guys, it's Steve!"

"Man, long time, no see!"

"Hey, bring the man a drink! On me!"

It was his fellow pilots he met during his service on various colonies and spaceships, clapping him over the shoulder, shaking his hand, several of them gave him a tight hug, too. They pulled him in for the rest of the shore leave, talking, dancing, playing cards, chatting. He didn't even notice where Shepard went – he just knew that when he looked around, she was nowhere in sight, just Aria smirked at him from her usual place before giving him a nod and turning her attention elsewhere.

As he went back to Normandy, his omnitool full of contacts, he typed in a quick message to his Commander.

From: Steve Cortez

To: Cmdr Allison Shepard

Subject: Pilots for the Alliance

Commander, when on shore leave, I met up with number of my pilot friends, who are willing to join the Alliance ranks once again to kick some Reaper's ass. Forwarding their contacts.

- Cortez

It was good to feel so light, he thought, when he caught himself whistling Robert's favourite tune without his heart giving him a painful twist for the first time in months.