"Hey, Kaidan!"
I glance up in time to see a glove flying at my face. My hand snatches it mid-air, my fingers exuding the faintest tinge of blue.
"Nice catch, Alenko." Darren smiles at me. "And that hole looks almost right – another half a foot and you should be right. We'll make a gardener of you yet!"
I feign a smile, wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand.
It's been years since I've held a shovel, and the unwieldy instrument feels irritatingly off-camber in my hands. Above me, the sun is glowing brilliantly. It is a strikingly hot day, especially for London. The sunlight streams down across the parched ground, casting strange shadows around the wisps of smoke that still linger in the air. It's like planting a garden in a graveyard. All around me are buildings, some covered in scaffolds, and others still just hollow shells of rusting metal. I look down at the dirt and still see flashes of battle before my eyes: Soldiers being shot down where they stand; others running and being caught in explosions; lives being torn apart before my eyes. I can still hear their shrieks in my ears.
I shut my eyes, clenching my teeth as I attempt to block out the images.
"Kaidan?" Emily is kneeling in the dirt, about a meter away. "Are you okay?"
Suddenly, the sky goes pitch black.
I wheel about in horror as the chilling call of a Reaper fills the air. The sun is gone – smoke is swirling across the sky, tainted red like blood in water. A hundred of those hideous metal giants slowly materialize through the cloud, descending upon the Earth. Their evil talons open wide to receive the harvest.
Somebody is calling my name... A familiar voice... Kaidan! Kaidan! It's too far away.
The horrific chorus of screams and gunfire surrounds me – I sink to my knees, covering my ears with my hands, desperately clawing at my head in vain. My legs feel weak as I struggle to breathe.
No! We finished this!
I look behind me to see my sapling, the one I had been striving to plant earlier, is now a vast oak tree. It has grown: Beautiful strong boughs spread out above my head. But to my horror, instead of the glorious orange autumn leaves I'd hoped to see, I find that it is being consumed by flames.
"Make it stop!" I yell, my throat stinging as dust is whipped up into the air. "I can't take this again! Make it stop!" My eyes are squeezed shut against the wind. I bow my head as I hear the Reapers' ominous roars just above me.
Suddenly, the cutting wind dies away, as though I'm being sheltered. With trepidation, I lift my head. Two feet are planted firmly on the ground directly in front of me, clad in metal boots.
"Kaidan!"
I can hear clearly it now – that warm, reassuring voice I know so well. It comes to me through the wind, wrapping around me tenderly, protectively...
She came back to save me.
Her armour is splattered with dirt and blood, but I can still see the gleaming cobalt metal and the red and white stripe down her right arm. Her back is turned to me, but I can still make out the faint blue glow of her visor, the satin-like shimmer of her hair as it is caught on the breeze...
"Shepard!" I call out, my voice barely audible in the wind.
A Reaper spots us. Its red laser zeroes in on Kira, leaving me lying helplessly in her shadow. I have no armour, no gun. My biotic implant is eerily weak – I can't even summon a barrier. I can't do a thing to help. Shepard draws her weapon – is that a missile launcher? I can't tell. The light is making it impossible for me to see. She levels it at the Reaper, never backing down, not even trembling in its presence.
"This is for Earth!" She declares, pulling the trigger.
The Reaper crumples in shock as the missile collides with its core. There is a moment of hesitation, and then a ball of flame erupts, sending shards of metal raining down upon us. The hulk of the beast begins to sway, balancing precariously on those talons...
It's beginning to fall toward us.
We're too close!
"It's going to crush us!" I exclaim, struggling to get to my feet. I still feel so weak. I look down and see that my legs are sinking into the mud.
A hand seizes mine, holding me fast. It's Shepard. I can barely see her eyes through her visor, but I can see her smile. It's beautiful, and for a moment, I forget my fear.
"Hold onto that hope," She whispers as her hand touches my cheek, "And when you do, I'll come back to you."
Flames descend upon us. I am still looking up into her eyes, watching, frozen, as she begins to melt away. Her body begins to disintegrate, escaping into the sky in curling vapours of smoke. Her hands are always the last thing to let go, and as they do, I'm left behind in the cold...
I wake up screaming. "Kira!" My body is shivering, my hands shaking violently as I reach out into thin air. I take rapid, shallow breaths, still trying to grasp the fact that this is reality.
Kira.
Her name is always the first thing on my lips. It seems like an eternity since... Since...
I cover my face with my hands.
What is wrong with me?
I don't usually cry. I've only ever cried on three instances that I can remember: When I was brought home from Brain Camp, when my father was listed as MIA during the Reaper invasion, and when Shepard left me behind.
It's been so long since then, but the nightmares are still intense. Each night is like reliving those last few moments all over again in a new place, with different people. It's always the same thing. I am doing something normal, like planting a tree, and then the reapers come back. And there she'll be, standing between me and danger, her gun in her hands. She always wins. She's Commander Shepard – she always does. And then, right at the moment when victory is certain, she's taken away from me.
It's cruel. Every night I wake up with a cold sweat, screaming her name, sobbing when I realise that she's not here. I don't know which part is worse: the nightmare or the reality.
I glance across at the clock to find that it's two in the morning. I've only been asleep for a few hours.
You're pathetic, Alenko.
I lie back on my pillow, combing my fingers through my damp hair.
Back in the weeks after Sovereign's attack, I remember having nightmares too. They were similar then: Shepard and I running headlong into danger, side by side. Somehow she always saw it coming long before I did. She would push me out of the way, and I would fall aside, watching helplessly as she was shot by Geth or crushed beneath falling metal. The nightmares were horrible then, but now? It's like being subjected to torture each and every night – and it has been that way now for almost four months.
I'm sleep deprived and I'm emotionally shattered. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.
Some nights I go for a walk. The streets are always empty, and sometimes the darkness helps to calm me down. Once I stumbled across a group of thugs looting from a store. That had been interesting – I suspended them in a stasis field for twenty minutes until the police arrived. But in the end there's only so many 'good deeds' you can do before you realise that you're just trying to block it all out.
I know that blocking out the pain isn't the answer. Letting it go is. But I can't do that just yet. I can't.
I remember Emily Wong giving me her datapad at the end of the last afternoon we'd spent together. Thinking about it, I guess that was the subconscious trigger for my nightmare. We had gone to that park like Emily had suggested and I had planted an oak sapling for Shepard. I even put a little wooden marker in the soil so I would remember which one it was. You know, just in case I go back someday. I remember burying the roots beneath the damp earth and wondering what Shepard would think if she could see it...
"Maybe you could get a plaque made," Emily had suggested light-heartedly, leaning on the handle of her shovel. She had planted a bush a few feet away, and was chatting with me as we leaned back to admire our handiwork. "You could have an inscription made for Shepard – you know? Something nice like, 'she saved the galaxy'."
I bit my lip and sat back on my haunches. "I don't know how she would feel about that."
"You don't have to put her name on it."
I raised a brow sceptically. "What do you mean?"
Emily shrugged, "Think outside the box. I mean, there's bound to be some sort of Shepard monument someday. I mean, come on, Alenko, you're writing a book for her. Surely you can write an inscription."
"You're writing the book," I reminded her with a faint smile.
"Yeah right!" Emily laughed, shaking her head. "Just you keep telling yourself that."
Emily's comment sounded so much like something Shepard would say. In that moment that it made my heart stop. For a brief instant, I could see Kira again, sitting across from me on the sofa just like we had done on shore leave. I felt her toes brushing the underside of my foot, trying to make me squirm. She loved doing that.
I felt my toes curl inside my boot as I came back, blinking in the daylight. Suddenly I knew what to put on the plaque. "What about, 'for my Kira: The soul behind the name'."
Emily had given me a wide smile. "That sounds wonderful. See? I told you that you could do it."
A few hours later, she had walked me to my sky-car. As I turned to go, the reporter held out her datapad and told me to hold onto it for a few days. "I have to go and do another job," She informed me, "But that doesn't mean you have to stop writing."
"I'm not an author!" I shake my head vehemently. "I'm no good with words."
"How can you say that? You're telling the story, Kaidan, I'm just writing it down." She thrusts it at me. "Take it. If you remember something important, then you can record it. Trust me; it will do you good to talk to something other than me for a change."
So here I am – two days later, lying in bed and staring dumbly at my ceiling.
Great Emily – thanks a lot. You've got me talking to the mildew instead.
It's not a particularly nice apartment. I'm staying in temporary lodgings while the Alliance repair crews and the other volunteers continue the clean-up effort. My apartment is really just a two-room flat. A claustrophobic bathroom, and a bedroom and a kitchenette in the tiny living space aren't exactly ideal living conditions, and it has taken some getting used to. The bed, on the other hand, I'll never get used to – it sinks terribly in the middle, and that's with just me in it. As I'm sure I've said before, it's not the first time I've lived out of a shoebox. It is, however, the first time I've lived out of a mouldy shoebox.
A siren sounds beneath my window. It's an eerie sound, especially in the dark. Red and blue lights flash across my ceiling as a police sky-car rushes down the street. Somehow I get the feeling that I'm not going to be getting any more sleep tonight.
I stretch my legs as I ease off the bed, making for the bathroom. The floor squeaks as I step onto the tiles and flick on the light switch – a watery patch on the ceiling greets me.
Great. Another leak.
I shake my head. I'll have to call maintenance and hope that they have a gap in their schedule sometime in the next month. Otherwise, I'll have to navigate around a bucket as well, and with the tiny floor-space, moving in this apartment is difficult enough.
I slip off my shorts, crank up the hot water and step under the shower. My mind flashes back to the first Normandy, and the times Shepard and I had shared there. The Normandy had been smaller then – it was difficult to find time alone. We were interrupted numerous times. It didn't seem to matter whether we were stealing a silent moment in the armoury or whether Shepard invited me to her cabin: somebody found a way to butt in.
Joker in particular became a master at it.
Yes... Joker. He was a brilliant pilot, and he is still a great friend. But if there is one thing that got under my skin, it was his uncanny way of knowing when we didn't want to be disturbed. Sometimes I wondered whether he'd developed some kind of formula: Wait ten minutes after they've come back from a mission and then radio Shepard about the council. Yes, that will do it!
After a few minutes, I step out of the shower and move toward the vanity. The mirror is foggy – not just from steam, but from tarnishing. I can just make out my reflection in the glass. My face still looks the same, but my hair is the result of the stresses of war. As I run a comb through it, I can see grey among the jet black strands. A few months ago, I had barely been showing any signs of age. Now, the hair above my ears is turning silver. I can't help but wonder what Shepard would think if she could see it. Would she have liked this 'mature' look? I can't quite come to terms with it – mostly because I don't want to change. I want to be the Kaidan she remembered.
Towelling myself off, I step back into the other room. My eyes instantly wander to the datapad on the nightstand. I pick it up, holding it in my clammy hands nervously as I weigh my options.
What would Shepard have wanted me to write?
I sit down on the bed, open the manuscript document and begin typing.
-2184-
I must be the luckiest man alive.
It has been three months since the Battle of the Citadel – three long, calm, wonderful months. It still hasn't quite hit home yet; part of me still wonders whether this glorious peace can last. I hope it can. Because where I am right now, life couldn't be more perfect.
She's asleep in my arms: the strongest, the kindest, and the most beautiful woman I've ever known. And she's here, with me. Never in my wildest dreams did I truly think that this could actually happen. Alliance rules and regulations stipulated only too clearly that a relationship between officers was off-limits. For months I sat on my hands and bided my time. Looking back, I wish I had acted sooner, but after our shore leave I'm just grateful for the time we've had. That rulebook is probably still out there somewhere, floating among the stars. No matter the consequences, I know now that I could never have made any other choice.
We're back on the Normandy, following the new Council's orders to clear out the remaining pockets of Geth in the Omega Nebula. It's not exactly how I envisioned our first mission as 'heroes' – part of me can't help but wonder if the Council is trying to cover up the whole incident. I wonder if it's also partly because Shepard didn't come to the aid of the Destiny Ascension. Are they trying to make her suffer for that choice? I hope not.
I look down at Kira, smiling as her eyelashes twitch slightly. I wonder what she's dreaming about. One of her arms is wrapped around my torso; the other is under her pillow. Her forehead rests against my shoulder, just the way it had when she had fallen asleep last night. In fact, I don't think she's moved all night. Now her breathing becomes shallower and her palm brushes against my side. She's coming out of her deep sleep.
"Shepard," I whisper in her ear, stroking her hair delicately.
She sighs, her eyes stirring a little underneath those long, dark lashes. She murmurs something incoherent in her sleepy daze.
I kiss her nose and try again, "Kira? You need to wake up."
Still nothing. Well, except a guttural sound that vaguely resembles a blend between my name and a rude word. I refrain from laughing. Shepard rarely has 'good' mornings – at least, not until she's had her coffee. This morning seems to be worse than normal. Somehow I'm not surprised after last night. Glancing at the clock on the desk, I decide that waking her is going to take some drastic action...
I lean in, pressing a kiss to her neck.
It works. Shepard begins to move, her other coming up to wrap around me. "Mmmmph."
"Kira," I try again, pulling back and watching her with amusement.
"What."
"It's almost six thirty."
This gets a response. She lifts her head, her hair falling across her face haphazardly. She swats it back, reaching for the alarm clock on the table. Her eyes are barely open and she still looks gorgeous.
"Six thirty – already?" Her words are slurred. She lies back with a moan, rubbing her eyes. "Why didn't you wake me?"
"I tried, but you were sleeping," I smile, leaning over her and kissing the other side of her neck.
"That's no excuse, Lieutenant."
"Lieutenant?" I chuckle, "You can't call me that. You're not in uniform yet."
Her hands brace against my chest, pushing me up so she can see my face. Kira is clearly irritated, but after a few moments, I can see the annoyance melting away. It is rapidly being replaced by an altogether different emotion.
"Stop it."
"Stop what?" I feign innocence.
"That!"
"What, this?" I smile, breaking through her defences and nibbling her collarbone.
"Yes, that!" Kira is trying very hard not to giggle, but it isn't working. "Damn, keep this up and I won't even make it to work."
"Well, in that case." I break free from her, sitting up and reaching for my sweatshirt. But she stops me from putting it on by slipping her hands over my shoulders. I feel her head resting in the crook of my neck, her hair tickling against my skin.
"I love you, Kaidan."
I smile contentedly, leaning my head against hers. "I love you too, Shepard." We stay here for a long moment before finally I remind her, "You're running out of time to go get that coffee."
Kira exhales, sending a warm gush of air across my skin. "You'll help me stay awake, won't you?"
She's talking about the humorous messages I send to her omni-tool. Every now and then during her day, I write to remind her that she needs to stay focused on her tasks. Two minutes later I send through another message, in which I describe all the little private things I know are going to make her witlessly distracted. It's particularly entertaining when she's in meetings with the Council or Hackett. Often I get messages in return depicting how she's going to make me pay for being so invasive. She never carries out her threats, though. Beneath that violent exterior is a molten heart – and I love it.
"I think I can manage that," I reply with a confident smirk.
"Alright, Lieutenant – battle faces." She pulls away and stretches her arms. "Shower. Coffee. I've got to finalise our search trajectory for the week, confirm the schedule with Joker, and then I've got a call to Hackett at nine."
I groan and shake my head. "Sounds more interesting than my schedule – another weapons check, and then I'm heading down to Engineering to help Adams with the maintenance rounds."
"Sounds like I'll have to send you some messages of my own." Kira winks at me as she stands and walks toward her desk. She picks up the datapad lying on top of her uniform, scrolling down the screen. "Sometimes I don't know what we're doing."
"What do you mean?" I walk over and wrap my arms around her waist.
"The entire fleet saw Sovereign. How can they justify sending us out to clean up the Geth? They're not the real threat – we all know that." Kira turns to look me in the eye. "I know it's not over, Kaidan. It can't be. The Reapers aren't going to give up that easily. They know we destroyed one of their own, and they'll be seeking vengeance."
"Kira," I whisper, touching her cheek, "I believe in you. Hell, I know we've barely started. But the Council can't ignore this forever. Things will have to change. And when they do, you'll be leading the way, like you always do."
"Thank you, Kaidan." She smiles faintly. "Just... Just promise me that when the war comes that you'll be there."
"Always," I reply tenderly, holding her close. "The Reapers will have to kill me before I'll let go of you."
Shepard starts to laugh, her chest shaking with silent amusement.
I pull away. "What?"
She bites her lip. "When you said that I'll be leading the way, I had an apparition of myself in Admiral's stripes."
At first I can't quite see the humour in it. To be entirely honest, Shepard looks stunning in a dress uniform, and gold bars on her shoulders would suit her perfectly. But it's the image of Kira being pent up behind a desk that makes me chuckle. "Yeah, I get that."
"If I'm going to war, I want to make sure that I'm charging the enemy along with all the other soldiers," Shepard adds, tossing away the datapad and pulling me close, "Not giving orders from a safe distance."
"I don't think it would matter what rank you were, you'd always be out there with a gun in your hands."
"And don't you just love it." She winks and presses her lips to mine. "Now," Kira informs me, stepping back, "I am really late."
"Any chance of some coffee, Alenko?" Navigator Pressly addresses me from across the crew deck.
I glance up from writing my report, smiling. I jerk my head in the direction of the pot resting on the table, "I topped it up just a few minutes ago. Great timing."
Pressly grins and pours himself a mug. "How have you been doing on the maintenance rounds? I hear you've been working with Adams."
"He's not bad. It's not a stressful job, but it takes a lot of fine adjustments."
Pressly is silent as he takes a mouthful of his coffee. Then he remarks, "I don't mean to pry, Lieutenant, but you and the Commander..." He hesitates and I interject.
"It's okay, Pressly. It's hardly a state secret."
The navigator nods, still looking slightly awkward. "I just wanted to say that I'm happy for you."
"Thanks," I smile, returning to my report as Pressly heads back up the stairs to the bridge.
A few minutes pass before I feel it: A rocking of the ship. It's mild at first, as though the artificial gravity system has suffered a minor glitch. But then it happens again. And this time, it's not subtle. The floor begins to shake. Above me, the ceiling panels are cracking, dropping dust and insulating fibre down around me. Alarms sound as the power goes out.
What the hell?
The emergency lighting flickers to life, casting an eerie red glow across the deck.
This isn't a drill.
I rush across to my locker, stepping into my armour. I grab my helmet and run back toward Shepard's quarters, punching in the emergency access code. The door opens a fraction, but not far enough. Using my full weight, I push it the rest of the way.
Her cabin is dark. Smoke is filling the air and it's getting harder to see.
"Shepard!" I yell.
She's not there.
Turning on my heel, I head back out into the corridor. My heart is pounding in my chest as members of the crew rush past. Some are wearing armour; others are making do with oxygen masks. I look up as I hear a terrible sound: A tearing, screeching noise. In my mind's eye, I envision claws ripping into the metal above me. The Normandy's metal girders begin to shift. Cables fall from between the cracks in the ship's plating, sparking off each other and causing flames to leap up from within the walls.
I need to find Shepard!
Turning down the corridor, I sprint toward the first thing I see: An open door leading into the emergency comm centre. I slip through the gap.
"Shepard!" I exclaim.
She's in her armour, standing in front of the command terminal.
She's readying an emergency distress beacon.
Kira enters the last few digits of her access code and the screen starts flashing confirmation. She reaches across and picks up her helmet, locking it in place. Now she turns to meet my gaze, her eyes masked by the tinted glass of her visor. "Distress beacon is ready for launch." Her voice is impossibly steady.
How can you be this calm? This ship is being torn apart!
I put on my own helmet. "Will the Alliance get here in time?"
"They'll be here." She takes a step toward me, but the Normandy suffers another violent tremor.
Flames erupt through the floor, sending billows of smoke into the air. Shepard grasps a fire extinguisher, grappling with it to quell the blaze.
"Get everyone to the escape pods," She instructs me.
"Joker is still up there," I realise with sudden horror. The Normandy lurches beneath me, and I stumble, grabbing hold of a nearby girder to steady myself. "He won't leave the ship!"
"I'll go get Joker." Shepard reaches out to touch my arm. Her fingers are clad in metal, but the warmth of her touch is as real to me as it was last night.
"Shepard..." I don't want to leave her, but I can hear the determination in her voice. She's more than my lover. She's my commander. And I know she will never forgive me for questioning her orders. I search for her eyes, straining to make out those gorgeous golden-brown irises through the shadowy glass. A breath catches in my throat. "I won't leave you."
There – a slight flicker in the shadows, a shimmer of emotion behind that mask of certainty.
"Kaidan." She slowly releases her hold on me, stepping away slowly. "You need to go. Now."
My stomach twists as I force a nod. "Aye, Ma'am." I almost choke on the words.
With numb legs, I stumble back out into the corridor. I can't look back. I can't stop to think. She gave me an order, and I have to see it through.
The fire has taken hold – it's leaping up from the deck, scorching the walls and the ceiling. The Normandy's supporting metal frame is beginning to buckle. There is an explosion somewhere on the upper deck. I can hear it for a brief moment: the violent grinding of metal sends a chill up my spine. And then, to my horror, everything goes silent.
I know what that means.
The vacuum of space is the only thing that can drown out noise like that.
"To the escape pods!" I shout to the crew. "Move!"
I watch them file past me, each one slipping into their emergency harnesses. My head is beginning to throb. I'm feeling strangely breathless, like I'm caught in the middle of a nightmare.
This can't be real.
This is the Normandy – the place I've come to know as a second home. And now it's burning.
I turn to see one last member of the crew struggling to reach me. Talitha. She doesn't have an oxygen mask. I stretch out my hand, indicating for her to come quickly. Talitha makes a desperate leap towards me, but as she does, there is an explosion: the fire has ripped through the bulkhead. There is nothing I can do. She's dead – lying on the floor in a heap, her eyes open and empty.
Bile rises in my throat, and it takes every last ounce of my strength to slip inside the pod. I seal the hatch, slipping into my seat just in time. There is a burst from the thrusters as the Normandy's panels fly open. One moment, everything is dark. The next, a blinding gold light is filling the tiny space. Pressure is pounding down against my shoulders, pinning me to my seat. It is nauseating. I close my eyes but it doesn't help. Now I look to my left, watching the disaster unfold through the tiny glass panel in the sealed hatch.
The Normandy is drifting, falling toward the surface of a planet. The ship is fractured, disintegrating little by little. The smouldering wreck is struck again – a brilliant beam of flames shears through its heart, splitting the Normandy in half.
Suddenly, my comm crackles to life.
It takes all my effort to reach up and adjust the controls so I can receive the signal. It is faint, barely audible through all the interference.
"Alenko! Anyone! Can you hear me!"
"Joker!" I watch as a tiny black sphere emerges from the smoking wreck, soaring out into the darkness. "You made it! Thank God, I was so scared. Shepard – is she with you?"
I can hear Joker's words snag in his throat, and my heart almost stops.
"I'm so sorry." It is a faint whisper, barely audible. "She... She got me to the escape pod..."
The signal breaks as another beam strikes the shell of the Normandy. It disintegrates, a ball of fire erupting from the core.
No. "Joker..."I feel numb. My head spins as I sink back against my seat. "No. Not Shepard..."
"...She pushed me to safety but she couldn't reach the pod in time..."
"No!" I clench my fists, fighting against the harness pinning me down. My implant is sending stabbing pain through my cranium. I shut my eyes against the sudden surge of anguish, the desperate urge to scream...
"Kaidan..."
The weak voice breaks through my shock, like a punch to my stomach.
Shepard...? I can't quite believe what I'm hearing. "Shepard?" I ask faintly, battling tears.
The comm channel is interspersed with static, but a second later, her voice reaches me again.
"Kaidan... Are you there...?"
My head is reeling. Oh hell – she's still alive!
My fingers tighten on the harness. "Shepard, I'm here! I can hear you!"
The channel is still active, but Shepard isn't talking. I can hear her breathing – short, rasping breaths. In the background I can hear a horrible rushing sound, like air escaping from a broken tank.
Air escaping...!
"Kaidan... My suit... It's ruptured..."
"Shepard!" I scream out her name as reality hits home. The other members of the crew are staring at me in dismay, blinking back tears as they come to terms with what's happening. "Shepard, please don't let go! Stay with me!"
I can hear her breaths becoming more frantic.
"I don't think... I don't think I can. I'm falling... Can't... Stop it." She sucks in a lungful of air. "Kaidan – not much time. Please. Promise me... Promise me you won't forget me."
I let my helmet fall forward, resting against the metal bar in front of me. "I promise, Shepard." Tears are running down my face. "I could never forget you."
"Kaidan Alenko..."
I close my eyes, drowning in the sound of her voice, knowing this may be the last time I ever hear it.
"I... I love you." Her last words are broken, aching, and tearful. I've never really heard her cry, but now the sound is tearing me apart.
"I love you, Kira," I murmur dejectedly. "I always will."
Her breathing is slowing. Now I hear choking... She's struggling to stay conscious. I can't bear the thought of her dying, but I hang on. I can't let go. She needs me to hold her hand, even if it is from a distance.
"Kira, I'm right here," I tell her lovingly, "I'm not going to leave you."
"Cold..."
I clench my teeth, "Kira, I'm staying with you, okay?"
She's coughing, gasping for air. "Kaidan..."
"Don't be afraid," I whisper. "I'm not letting go."
I look up as another explosion buffets my escape pod. Somewhere in the distance, streaks of fire are appearing as debris begins to descend into the atmosphere of the planet.
"Kira." I call her name gently, hoping against all odds that she can still hear me. My heart sinks as the only response is static – vacant, grinding static. Every second is killing me a little more inside. "Kira!"
Nothing.
She's gone.
I don't know how much time has passed since the moment of that fateful realisation, but suddenly I'm aware of a sound. Screaming. Arms are steadying me, holding me upright and freeing me from my harness. I am not entirely sure where I am, but as a light flashes before my eyes and my helmet is pulled away, I discover that the screams are mine. I'm screaming her name over and over again, my voice distorted in my own ears.
Kira... Kira... No Kira... Come back. Come back to me...
A fog of despair settles over my eyes. I sink into a world of darkness – quiet, numbing, and emotionless darkness.