[A/N: There, this is the epilogue, and this story is finally all wrapped up! I really enjoyed writing it, especially this kind of bittersweet epilogue, and I hope you enjoyed and liked it. If you want some more of Elizabeth and Kaidan, you can read my one-shot Home.]
The list saves his life.
He feels like he has been through this already and thinks they have suffered enough already. Don't they finally deserve their happy ending? They have given everything to this war, to the galaxy, to the dead, to strangers and unborn children they won't ever meet but who will be born thanks to them. Now all he really wants is to lie down on a beach somewhere, far away from what remains of the Alliance, from the stars humanity once wanted to reach so much, from the new Council, from the upcoming reconstruction, from the corpses of the Reapers drifting away in space. He wants that with her. They'll sip cocktails, their toes buried in the warm sand, listening to the water. They will leave saving the world and putting the galaxy back on its feet to someone else, because their job is done. Hell, he will even suggest definitive retirement and building a house right there on that beach, so that they will wake up to the golden light of the sun rising over the ocean and fall asleep to the sound of the waves. He dreams of tiny feet running in that sand, little Alenkos growing up somewhere that isn't a ship.
But he won't ever get that.
All he can do now is clinging to his memories. Every day, he lists the little things he remembers about her. He knows, for he has lived it all once before, that he can survive this, broken as he is. He will do it for her. Hell, he will cry himself to sleep every night if he has to, but he will survive this, he will help repair the whole damn galaxy, throwing himself into work once again just to get through the endless days of life without her. Yes: just like last time, he relies on work. There is much to be done, with the Reapers destroyed and the galaxy trying to limp back to some semblance of normalcy. Work is good; like the list, it keeps his mind busy. He barely leaves his body time to rest, hoping to chase the nightmares away by sleeping as little as possible. At night, he's so exhausted he often falls into a deep, untroubled slumber. So work is fine, work helps, work soothes the pain. And when it will finally be over, when every species will have gone back to their world, when every relay will be repaired, when the galaxy will look like something close to its former self, he will end his life as a Spectre. Forget the beach; he only wanted that with her. Hopefully, he'll die on duty. It would be a nice death, a nice end to it all, one worthy of hers, one he would welcome with open arms. Then, at long last, he would be with her again.
He likes his list. The nail polish. Her soap's incongruous smell of fruits. The golden glitters in her eyes. The almost invisible freckles on her nose. The highlights in her hair. The way her laugh sounded. Her terrible driving (he's still nauseous when thinking about it). The list goes on and on. The list is simple, reliable and effective. The list keeps him sane, which is not as easy as it sounds. When it gets too bad, he just lists and lists and lists again. Details and moments, everything just to get through the day and help him drift into sleep. Her favorite color. Her favorite book. How she couldn't dance to save her life. How she never could hold her liquor. Her smile.
He's back on the Citadel, and he doesn't even know how long it's been. Probably months, possibly even years. So many things have changed, and yet so much is exactly like the first time. He is a mess again, and still not the only one: at least there's Joker. The Normandy's pilot has gone back to the heavy drinking he was used to while carrying the guilt of Shepard's death on the SR-1, except this time the alcohol is helping him getting over EDI, not the Commander. Every once in a while, Kaidan joins him in the only bar left on the Citadel, and they empty the bottle together, wishing "they" were here. The first time he joined him, he was still searching for her, still hoping she was somewhere out there. Because he had hoped, for a long while. After the Normandy's crash on a remote, unknown planet, he had really, really hoped she was still alive and waiting for him. They were stranded for days, without any communication with the others, without any idea about what had happened. And he was simply clinging to that fact: she was waiting for him, and he was determined to come back to her. Their team worked like hell, and the ship was finally able to leave and set for the Citadel. Except there was no Citadel to come back to, not really. And as they neared the station, everyone realized no one could have survived that, not even freaking Commander Shepard. Kaidan refused to let it go, though – refused to let her go. He had done so once already, and how well had that worked out? So yes, he searched for her day and night, lifted piles of rubble with his biotics, found bodies that weren't hers, kept hoping and hoping and…
At some point, it had just become obvious she wasn't coming back. Still, he persisted. He sent messages everywhere, read endless lists of names, contacted both hospitals and morgues. She wasn't anywhere out there, but as long as she wasn't effectively dead, she might still be alive – or that was the idea, anyway. And then he met Joker in that bar the workers had quickly rebuilt, needing someplace to forget about the terrible days they had up there.
-Remember what I told you after Horizon? Joker asked.
-That I was an ass?
The pilot threw him an unusual, gloomy look. It was the look he had since EDI's… well, death, if that was even the word for it. "End"? He would have to settle for "death". Anyway, that look was terrible. It was sad, dark, depressed. It had absolutely nothing in common with Joker's old glances, the ones he had when he was still a funny and smug son of a bitch, when he was still Joker.
-"Hope's a bitch", Moreau quoted himself.
-Hope is all I have right now. I need to keep looking for her.
-Why? It's been too long, man. You know she's gone.
At first, Kaidan did not answer. Deep down, he had to admit that rationality was screaming Joker was right. But then again, he had believed that once already, and been dead wrong. He still had too many regrets over that mistake to allow himself to accept she was gone – again.
-I need…
The words would not come out. They were too hard to say.
-You need a corpse to bury.
Shock passed through Kaidan's eyes. He was about to tell something like that, yes, but the way Joker had blurted it was rough, so blunt it pierced his heart.
-Yes, he murmured.
Joker sniffled:
-Doesn't change a damn thing. I mean, I should know, right?
-I can't…
-Don't be so stubborn, Alenko! Every fucking rock has been turned. Shepard isn't here.
Kaidan pursed his lips, angry. Joker closed his eyes for a second and sighed. When he opened his eyes again, there was such pain and grief in them it nearly overwhelmed Kaidan. It looked so much like what he was feeling on an everyday basis.
-It never gets easier, does it?
-No, Kaidan grumbled.
-And better? Does it get better?
-Neither.
Hesitant, Kaidan inhaled deeply:
-But we do, somehow. We're the ones who get better.
-I don't believe that. "Time heals all wounds", right? Well, that's bullshit.
-It doesn't heal. It… Mends into scars. I guess at some point you just learn to live with it.
-What if I don't want to?
-You don't really realize it's happening, you know. You just get through the day, you put one foot in front of the other, and then, someday, it's… Bearable. The hole is still there, but it's familiar now.
Joker remained silent for a moment.
-I loved her.
-I know, Kaidan said.
-I never even told her.
-I know.
-Was it the same for you, last time? How did you fucking do it?
-Honestly, I have no idea.
He still doesn't.
But life always wins. He learns that first when he receives an email from Wrex, announcing the birth of his son Mordin. Then he gets confirmation upon reading a message from Garrus, telling him about Jacob's daughter, named Beth. And he realizes that hundreds of newborn children must be named after Shepard everywhere in the galaxy, and that's life winning, too. They're miracle babies, the ones who were never supposed to be born and only got a chance at living thanks to her. Miracle children who owe their very existence to her, to her sacrifice, and he likes this idea.
He's not as lonely as he was the first time. Joker is around, for one, but he's the ghost of the man he used to be. But with the relays damaged, the Normandy's crew stays on the Citadel quite a while. Then his family scatters once again: Tali flies to Rannoch; Liara pretty much disappears once again; Javik leaves with the Asari; Joker is still getting hammered regularly; Garrus goes to Palaven before joining Tali on Rannoch. The months they are all here matter, though. He finds out he is not the only one clinging desperately to memories.
-Remember that one mission when we chased monkeys? Garrus says once, as they're all gathered in the Normandy's mess, a few weeks after coming back to the Citadel.
Tali snorts and Liara suddenly guffaws, alcohol pouring out of her nose as she does.
-Jeez, Blue, what the hell? Vega cries.
-I'm sorry, she manages to say between chuckles. But you should have…
She laughs again then, and can't even finish her sentence. Vega raises one eyebrow.
-Ok, now I've got to know.
-Oh, it was a simple Alliance assignment, Garrus explains. Downed probe, data module to recover. Easy enough, even with some Geth set on getting their hands on the module first. Anyway, Shepard, Kaidan and your favorite Turian here find the probe, except the module is missing. And we find out…
It's Garrus' turn to interrupt himself as he bursts out laughing.
-We find out some damn space monkeys stole the module, Kaidan explains with a smirk.
-Space monkeys? Vega says, dubious.
-Pyjaks. You've seen them on Tuchanka.
-Yeah, I remember. So space monkeys stole your data module?
-I know, right? Tali shrieks. Space monkeys!
Ignoring her, Kaidan continues the story:
-So we set off after them. We find the first group, but no module. Same with the second one.
-That's not the funny part! Garrus shouts. Let me do it, Alenko, you're an awful storyteller.
Kaidan raises both hands with an amused smile and lets Garrus go on:
-We find the first colony alright, but the thing you've got to realize is that we need to search for the module. So here we are, the first human Spectre, an Alliance officer and the resident sniper of the Normandy, basically body-searching the space monkeys.
At this point, Liara howls with laughter:
-We were… We were in the cockpit, listening to their com feeds! And I mean, it was hilarious. Joker couldn't even breathe!
-You see, I just thought we should shoot them all, Garrus explains. It would have been so much easier, right? But no, oh no. Shepard wouldn't have it. She thought they were cute!
Kaidan smiles fondly at the memory.
-Of course she thought they were cute! Vega exclaims. We're talking about the woman who bought a damn space hamster for her cabin.
-What happened to the little thing, by the way? Liara asks softly, all trace of laughter suddenly gone.
-I kept it, says Kaidan softly.
Of course he did. Shepard liked her pet way too much for him to abandon it. That, and it survived too many things, including the Normandy's crash, not to deserve a chance. Kaidan likes it more than he would admit it. There's something comforting in the tiny animal, something soothing, like it's a piece of her.
There's a silence. It's a bit sad, almost revered as they all think about her, about the woman they have lost – not the Commander, but the friend, the sister, the companion.
Then life wins again. Suddenly there is Vega quietly chuckling, and it spreads amongst them like wildfire.
-So you're body-searching the space monkeys? Vega repeats, chortling.
-We're body-searching the bloody space monkeys! Garrus confirms, shaking with laughter again.
-That's not all! Liara exclaims with a high-pitched voice that does not resemble her usual one. We suddenly hear Shepard curse, and everything goes quiet in the cockpit. We actually thought something bad had happened. We were after Saren, you know, so… Geth, Sovereign, danger.
-It wasn't always a walk in the park, Kaidan sighs.
Liara slaps him on the forearm and goes back to the story:
-Precisely. So, we go all still and serious, and Joker asks if something's wrong. There's a silence, which gets us worried, obviously. And then Shepard goes… She goes… "I think I just ran over a monkey".
Garrus lets out a deep laugh, so doubled up with laughter he nearly falls off his chair. It takes Tali's hand on his arm to hold him up.
-She had crushed the poor thing right under the Mako! He yells.
And it feels good, telling that story, telling the others, reminiscing about their adventures, about the times when they were still a team, serving under the most formidable woman ever born in that galaxy. When they all start to leave, Kaidan feels empty. But he knows it's life finding its way back, and he's ok with that, so he settles with news here and there, messages and calls, and it's alright. The first time he had lost her, he had thought she was the glue that held them together. Now he knows they're family, they're out there, and they still care, even though they're not at his side anymore.
Letting them go is his own way of caring about them.
Nail polish.
Red highlights in her hair.
Dimples when she smiles.
Awful writing.
Bad jokes.
Small mole on her left wrist.
Maybe he just needs to crumble to get back up again. Maybe that's why, after some time, he finds he can breathe again. He has lost count of the days, but he is still here, still working, still alive, and, just like he wanted, he has survived. The world is not ending anymore. The chaos the galaxy was in right after the war is somewhat over, even if there are still heavy damage, unanswered questions, missing soldiers, dead civilians and torn families. And the chaos of his mind has somewhat receded, too. He knows he can't imagine any kind of life without her, and won't ever settle down on that beach somewhere, but he has made peace with that. He knows now that he could never choose who gets left behind, who gets to live, who gets to survive. He does not like it, but it's how things stand. That day, it was Shepard's choice all along; she would have never let someone else take her place. Breathing every day, even though it hurts like hell, is the only way he's got to honor that, to honor that heartbreaking choice she made. She didn't promise him anything, after all; never said she was coming back. Maybe she knew all along she would not. But he likes to believe that, silently, she did promise something else: that life would go on, no matter how deep the loss.
He slowly comes back to life.
It's been a year now, and he's still very much standing. He keeps listing every day, but he's still standing. And as he lists over and over again, he finds some contentment in being able to do so. He had a second chance, some more time before losing her for good, time to collect these tiny moments and small details of life, and bearing that in mind, it seems obvious now that the universe would not give him a third one. That would be greedy. He only has to look at Joker to realize how precious second chances are, how rarely they come along; so it's only natural third ones never do.
Or do they?
