A/N: A big, huge thank you to everyone who is following this story, favoriting this story, reviewing this story, talking to me about this story, and reading this story! I absolutely love the feedback! Reviews are always appreciated: they are the food authors live on :) As always, all of these characters belong to Bioware. And I'm just playing with them.

She's running, leaving the human shouts behind her. Shots fired. Exhaust burning. She runs from the field to the village. Mom. Dad. Ellara. She runs towards the batarians. The slavers. A firm knot of terror forming in the pit of her stomach.

They'd always known it was possible. Out on the edges of the Terminus systems. They'd been warned by the humans, by the turians, by everyone. New comers with the smallest fleet. Prime targets. Her father kept a pistol in the safe in the bedroom. No one thought they would come.

She's still running. Blue dress flying behind her. Tears falling from her cheeks. Dirt curling between her toes, shoes lost long ago. Home. She has to get home.

Smoke assaults her nose. The fires are started, she knows this is just the beginning of the end. The people are gone. Almost. Fled or captured. It doesn't matter now. She hears screams. Her feet are carrying her towards them before her brain can stop her. Ella! Her bare feet burn in the embers, blood marks her footprints from the broken glass. She can't feel it.

A rough hand grabs her. Hand covering an already screaming mouth. Was it her? Did she start screaming? She can't remember making the noise. She bites drawing blood. Red. Not a batarian. She knows that much, she paid attention in school that day. The hand lets go and she falls to the ground. Coughing, on her knees. She turns—Tristan! Her heart leaps and she opens her mouth to speak. He silences her with a finger to his lips. She nods. The batarians must still be close. Ella. Her sister. She has to get home.

Her lips form her name, and Tristan nods in understanding. He motions for her to follow him, and he sets off at a quick pace leading her through twisting pods that were once their homes. Her heart is pounding, and she's sure he can hear it. And if he can hear it, the batarians can. She gathers the hem of her dress into her hand, the edges scorched from the fires. Her feet are starting to hurt, but the cool dirt feels good.

He turns suddenly pushing her flat. She hasn't seen anything. Hasn't heard anything. A second later she hears the shot and Tristan falls. Smoldering hole in his chest.

That's when she screams.

She woke in a heavy sweat. She hadn't dreamt of Mindoir in years. Not since she died the first time. Not since being sucked into the vacuum of space had given her a new perspective on helplessness.

Mindoir, it was such a long time ago.

Before Saren. Before Cerberus. Before the Reapers. Before she died. When she knew how to love without fear, and when she only thought about the things before her. She had nothing behind her.

She shivered and felt strong arms tighten against her. "Garrus," she breathed snuggling closer. Future, there was that word again. A word she let herself believe in because of him.

"Mmmm," he moaned still half asleep, "Whose Tristan?"

"No one, " she answered. But he was already asleep again his breathing smooth and even. In the hospital her slightest move had been enough to wake him, and he had been ready to get anything she might need. Now, when she was actually wrapped in his three-taloned arms he slept like he hadn't slept in weeks. She supposed that was true. As far as she could gather, she'd been the only one to sleep through the party. Not that Garrus had attended it, she thought guiltily.

She wormed her way closer to Garrus's chest hoping it would help her sleep. She'd been out of the hospital for eight days and on the turian ship for three. They spent a couple days with Liara and Tali before both of them returned home. It was a bittersweet parting. In the crucible, with Anderson, she thought she was dead. Thought she wouldn't see anyone again. But then she woke up, and they were there. All of them. She'd said her good-byes only to realize they weren't good-byes. But now, with everyone going home, Shepard honestly didn't know when she would see her two closest friends again. Even when she was with Cerberus and then later incarcerated, she knew she would find them again. Somehow. But there were no Reapers now, no galactic emergency to put them together again.

Hackett muttered something about medals for the crew. Another Star of Terra most likely. But this time everyone, even the non-humans, would get them. Mordin, Thane, and Legion too, albeit those would be awarded posthumously. She made Liara and Tali promise to come back. She'd had to choke back tears when she asked for the promise. They promised to come back. Also forcing her to promise to visit them on Thessia and Rannoch. See the house. When she nodded in agreement she felt a weight lift off her chest, she felt like she could breathe again. She couldn't remember feeling like she was going to suffocate, but now, knowing she would see them, she knew she could breathe. And that was strange.

They'll reach Palaven in the morning, and Shepard is nervous. Hackett never asked her to stay, but she felt the curiosity underlying the simple question, "Why Palaven?" She'd hastily inserted Thessia, Rannoch, and even Tuchanka into her travel plans. She was sure she would visit them all, however briefly, and not alone. But Hackett's curiosity wasn't what was gnawing at her, forcing sleep away.

She didn't know what Garrus would tell the Primarch or his family or his friends. He'd said he let them all know she was coming, but that wasn't the conversation that unnerved her. They called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, but only in private. They touched and whispered 'I love you' and she knew he would never leave her. But their relationship was still a secret, and she was nervous for him. She didn't know what it would mean when he said 'I love you' and they weren't alone. It didn't matter for her, sure the Alliance military might say something, but after destroying the Reapers she knew they would turn a blind eye to almost anything she did. And she didn't have a family anymore. It was just her. It was different for him, or at least, she'd gathered it was different. He'd never been forthcoming about his family's place on Palaven, but she'd gleaned it was important. He was a political figure there. A rather famous one, from what she'd been able to dig out of the extranet and from Liara's database. And while she had no idea what was expected of him, she was pretty sure it didn't include a human girlfriend—Commander Shepard or not.

So, she wondered what Garrus had told everyone, how he excused her presence. She wasn't his Commander anymore, he'd long since been released from duty, and the Primarch hadn't asked for her. When Garrus asked her to go to Palaven she'd said yes because the thought of being without him was physically unbearable but also because where else was she going to go?

Something about being on earth terrified her. She couldn't shake the memories that waited on every corner, in every stone, in the face of every child. She was Anderson, and the Illusive Man, and the child. She shuddered. The child. The one who told her he controlled it all—even the Reapers. And he gave her choices, but by then she'd lost so much blood she could hardly stand much less focus. But she remembered something about destroying them or controlling them and there was a third choice but she hadn't really heard it she'd been focusing too hard remaining upright, and she'd remembered what the Illusive Man had done. How he'd tried to control them and gone insane, and she remembered what she'd been trying to do since Ilos and before. And there was only one choice: destroy. She'd whispered good-bye to EDI and asked Legion for forgiveness, but she knew they would understand. So when EDI walked into her hospital room, she thought she'd seen a ghost, but she understood. The child lied. Destroying them was the only way to break the cycle, to kill the child. And even machines have a sense of self-preservation. At least, she thought that's what happened, but the child's words, foggy at the time, were quickly fading, and as the days went by she was less and less sure of what she'd seen.

She could hardly explain what happened up there to herself much less to anyone else. So while everyone else was celebrating, so relieved to just be safe, she'd been alone. None of them had stood toe-to-toe with as many Reapers or shouted so loudly at deaf ears or finally been asked to save everything when it was just too late. Sure, they'd watched their friends, lovers, families die but, to them, it was sudden and meaningless. To her it wasn't. She'd seen it coming. Knew it was coming. Knew it as surely as she knew how to breathe. And she was powerless. So, earth, it terrified her. Every time she saw the scars, saw the ruined buildings, she remembered how she failed.

She couldn't bring herself to feel the same way about Palaven, but she wondered about Garrus. She knew he'd been ignored too. He'd told her about his "task force" with an amused irony. She knew how most turians regarded humans: arrogant, impetuous, short tempered. And she knew he probably had to fight some prejudice after leaving C-Sec and serving on her ship. Even after Saren, she'd only earned a grudging respect. And now, he was bringing home a human girlfriend—heavens help them all. She almost laughed. Would have, even. If the girlfriend in question wasn't her.

She struggled restlessly against him, and it was keeping him awake. He knew she was trying to get comfortable, trying to push herself closer to him, trying to relax. Spirits, he wondered, what could she be so nervous about? She hadn't tossed that much the night before the Collectors or even before they went back to earth. He wondered if she didn't want to leave earth, she had just saved it after all. He knew Jane hadn't been born there, but humans had an oddly strong connection to their homeworld. He didn't quite understand it, but he didn't have to understand it to respect it and to know it mattered to her. He knew she was devastated by the damage, he could see that clearly on her face. But as far as he knew she had no family there. Not like Palaven for him: home, family, history. He'd grown up there, his family traced a long line through Palaven. Palaven was in his blood, written on his life.

Her history was buried under a memorial on Mindoir and shattered across the frosty plains of Alchera. Her home was an invaded colony and a crashed ship, at least, he hoped that's what her home was. He had no illusions about settling on Palaven, but back on Earth, before the Reapers, she'd mentioned a beach. He liked that idea. A beach. He would find her one. White sand, aquamarine ocean, and space as far as the eye could sea. No equipment lockers and bulkheads just clear skies and solitude.

But first, Palaven. Spirits, what was he going to say? "So I brought Shepard because she's my girlfriend? She's here in an advisory capacity?" He'd told everyone she was coming, but just not why. And he knew that was going to be asked. She wasn't a Reaper expert anymore. Fighting them, there was no one better in the galaxy, but salvaging the tech? She wasn't an engineer by any stretch of the imagination.

He winced as he remembered the hours he'd spent teaching her how to hack a locked door or boost the Mako's shields. She caught on fast enough, but she'd always wanted to move too quickly. Her normally steady hands were always impatient jumping a step. It was what made her a mediocre sniper as well, although he'd never admit it to her. She was always ready to charge first and shoot second. Never taking the time to set up the perfect shot. Popping the heat sink. Fidgeting while in cover.

Garrus could feel the tight, corded muscles beneath her skin. She was still stiff, he could see it in the way she moved, feel it beneath her skin when he held her, see it when she unconsciously stretched her left knee. He felt her shift in his arms again shoulders curling around one of his arms, legs lengthening to release tension. He knew how she looked, could visualize every line of muscle, the dips and the rises, the pocked rivers of scars, the map of freckles. He knew them better than he knew the sleep springs of his rifle or the bindings of his armor. He let out a sigh curling himself around Shepard trying to protect her from whatever was chasing her dreams tonight.

Jane picked at her food throwing Garrus a sideways look, "This is really what turians think humans eat?"

Garrus laughed, "Now you know how I felt on the Normandy. You'd pick up special food for the humans but not the dextros."

Jane looked a little embarrassed, "Was the food really that bad?"

Garrus nodded.

"Why didn't you say anything? I'm surprised you stuck around."

"Well there were plenty of other things: big guns, things to shoot, and this commander who needed someone to watch her six. She was important, see, and she had a tendency to rush the enemies first and find cover later."

She smiled at him, "Not that important." She shrugged. Garrus smiled too. He'd really missed her smile. Hell, he'd really missed her.

Jane was one of a handful of humans on the civilian transport. There was also a smattering of asari and plenty of volus in addition to the turians. Jane thought she saw a drell out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned for a closer look he was gone. And that made her think of Thane. His death was what he would have wanted, she thought, he'd died protecting them not slowly drowning in a hospital somewhere. But still, he was dead. His long journey finally over. She wondered idly about Kolyat, hoping he was fine wherever he was. A priest, she thought she remembered Thane mentioning. A son atoning for the father.

She glanced around the crowded mess again, only it wasn't a mess on a civilian ship, it was a cafeteria. She felt strangely out of place here, and not just because she was a human on a turian ship. The lines were wrong. Too harsh or maybe not harsh enough. She couldn't put her finger on why the proportions didn't quite match. But that wasn't what unsettled her. She hadn't felt this out of place since her first ship when she was 18. That, she concluded might be why, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a civilian ship. As a civilian. She was still Commander Shepard, no one asked her to retire, but she wasn't traveling as an Alliance marine or as a spectre. She was traveling as Jane. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't been in command of something or someone. The translator was working hard to keep up with the steady hum of conversation but was failing. The buzz of voices faded into a foreign and indistinguishable piece of her surroundings. She wondered if Garrus had felt that way on the Normandy. So many things she'd never asked him. No wonder he spent so much time with the Mako or recalibrating the gun.

She looked up. He was staring at her frown lines, his face creasing, as much as it could. She smiled, shoveling some of the breakfast into her mouth. If she was honest with herself Garrus's breakfast looked even less appetizing, and that illicited a real grin on her face.

She raised her eyebrows, "Not bad."

"See, now it's definitely better than the Normandy."

She laughed. And Garrus laughed harder than he should have. As though they were both trying to convince themselves everything was all right. The turian ship was the Normandy and everything was same.

As their laughter faded Jane went back to watching the turians. She'd never spent much time with them in groups. She'd spent plenty of time with one particular turian, but she'd rarely seen them interact outside of combat situations. She wanted to know what she was getting into. She examined several of the female turians, subconsciously noticing just what Garrus was giving up to be with her. They were more delicate than she'd imagined but also stronger. Their lack of fringe and spurs gave them an unexpected grace in the same way that their addition gave the males an almost quiet dignity.

Mates were startlingly attentive to each other, something she hadn't expected. She knew they were a fiercely militant culture that focused heavily on the individual's responsibility to the community. She'd likened them in many ways to the ancient Romans and the even more ancient Spartans. So the tenderness between mates took her by surprise, she'd expected more stoicism. She found herself staring at a pair of turians. He brought her breakfast, helped her sit. She was evidently hurt and still in a great deal of pain, although she was going to great lengths to hide it. He labored unceasingly to make her comfortable. The silent agony in his eyes as he watched her made Jane's own heart ache and her heart went to him. He was careful and caring, but never overly affectionate, always almost at arm's length. It was so clear he loved her in his every move, in the way he watched her, in the way he moved with her.

"It's because we are so focused on our duty," Garrus said leaning in.

She turned to him, blushing, "What?" She hadn't meant to be so obviously captivated.

"It's why he's so attentive. Why all the males are. We're raised to sacrifice ourselves for the bigger picture but we mate for life. It's a paradox really. But we spend every moment with our love like it might be our last because we're always prepared to know it just might be. It's why the affection is so strained, just junder the surface. Escaping for moments through a look or a hesitant touch." Garrus watched her as he spoke. He longed to touch her, look at her like the turian she'd been watching. But he couldn't. Not yet.

"I thought you turians were all straight forward propositions," she joked.

He smiled, "Well, that's only when it's casual. You humans are so one dimensional about sex. What you say on ships and on shore leave won't get you a mate. And it's certainly not how you keep one."

Jane recognized the look on Garrus's face. "Should I have done something different?"

He smiled leaning closer unconsciously, "I'd say things are going well."

"That's good. I'd hate to have to relocate to Tuchanka."

"They might not be interested anymore. What with the genophage cured and all."

"Dammit Vakarian, I guess you're my only hope." They both laughed, and for a moment their imminent arrival on Palaven was forgotten.