Kaidan waited until Shepard had climbed off the riser and perched on a crate on the dock, nursing a canister of water, before he tried to initiate a conversation.

"You tried to tell me something…" he began, hesitating to find the right words, "and I didn't listen. I was… angry because... well, everything—mostly at life, at the situation. And you're not responsible for that. Two years…" He stepped closer to her and tried to continue, but she stopped him.

"When you're dead, you don't know you're dead," she said assuredly. He settled his gaze on her, ready to hear her out. "And when you come back… you just wake up like you had a hard night and too much swill. Floating out in space with no oxygen…? It's just a bad dream, a nightmare."

He noticed her tone was soft, affirmative, firm. There was no hint of anger or resentment just… He wasn't really sure what to call it. Acceptance? Truth…

"It doesn't click, either," she continued, "until you realize everyone's gone. You know I woke up to a firefight with mechs? Didn't know where the hell I was but… it clicked, right? Waking up to battle didn't seem wrong." Shepard was almost amused, with one corner of her mouth tipped up in a pseudo-smile that said she was both amazing and startled by her own words. "It didn't seem… out of place. It didn't seem wrong," she repeated, "so my body and brain responded with regiment and cool adrenaline."

He watched her brush those flyaway strands of hair from her face, pale from cooling off and shiny from remnants of drying sweat.

"It wasn't even all of the faces of people I didn't know claiming to be my allies that did it. And they were telling me these things—these crazy stories of me dying and being a two-year credit-leach of a project before I was brought back to life. But the brain doesn't accept what it can't remember. And you don't remember dying like it's a memory, only a bad… bad dream."

He knew her burst of laughter was wasn't amusement.

"I didn't feel dead," she went on. "I couldn't remember being dead. I tried to accept the story but my brain—my body—none of it could swallow it, like being shoved into someone else's boots and they're telling you they belong to you, and you know they're full of shit. They have your name in it, and you think, 'they must be mine' but you just can't buy it, that you ever wore those boots too small for you."

She took a quick pull of water.

"I looked for you," she said firmly. "All of you. I tried to find you. It didn't make sense you weren't on my ship. I mean, I could explain losing the Normandy—the Collector assault didn't escape my memory banks when I went down. But I couldn't explain losing my crew. Cerberus, Alliance, Council… they were changed. It really had happened—I'd died and been dead for two years. I saw Tali on Freedon's Progress and it was like it'd been a day, but she flinched at me like I was a ghost."

"Shepard," he whispered softly, but she held up her hand to silence him and pushed off of her box, storming down the dock in more frustrated paces. She hadn't woken up with all this irritated nor prepared anything to say to him when she saw him again. She only wanted him to understand where her brain had been the two years he was grieving… and yet she couldn't stop. Things she only knew in her subconscious were popping out of her.

"The brain doesn't accept what it can't remember, Kaidan. To you—to everyone… I was dead for two years. But to me, I was asleep for a night. I woke up and the whole galaxy had changed. And there was no time for me to be pissed off about it! No one said, 'hey, maybe Shepard needs a minute to rage' or thought for one second that it might bother me. No, it was, 'welcome back, Shepard, the world is in trouble and we need you to save us'."

Joker used both hands to pull the bill of his hat over his eyes. Hearing Shepard's tormented speech and shouts went straight to his core. He slumped into his chair and stayed that way. He didn't even realize how silent the rest of the ship was, listening over the intercom he'd forgotten to turn off.

"Cerberus didn't bring me back because someone would miss me, after all. They brought me back to fight!" She took a deep breath. "I accepted because… because I had to, you know that. I've always said yes. But this time I had to because the mind-fuck of having your life ripped out from under you was too much to take in at once. It had to be small doses between mission briefings. It had to be done between changing thermal clips and banging out armor dings. I had to be enraged and fighting to understand what had happened to me so I didn't lose my mind!"

Her shoulders shook once as the tremor of the tear-hiccup climbed through her chest to her throat. She resisted it. He wasn't doing as good a job and he could feel the familiar sting under his lids. Kaidan didn't want to cry in front of her.

Suddenly, her fist flew out and a scream ripped out of her as she punched the steel crate she'd once been sitting on. She didn't even react to the pain—he doubted she even felt any. Her blue eyes were icy and red hair even brighter than before. Had she never dealt with this? Had no one given her a chance to scream?

She took a couple of rough, shallow breaths and then another surge of rage erupted out of her and she punched something else, making a dent that time. When she finally had settled into deep breathing, she started talking again. Her voice sounded even, exhausted, and still pissed off.

"Everyone… treated me like it had never happened. As though I'd just hopped ships and switched sides. Some followed, some didn't. And I commanded the respect of my crew either way." Shepard shut her eyes a moment, face muscles tensing for a brief second. "Of course they acted like nothing had happened. A commander is no good if they're psychologically damaged. I wanted it that way. I couldn't talk to them about it. I couldn't do my job if I was being babied, questioned, suspected of anything less than Alliance Commander Saia Shepard. Council Spectre. Rogue Operative to Cerberus to stop the greatest threat our world has ever known."

He saw her fingers flexing again. She was resisting the rage.

"But it did happen! I can't ignore it forever!" This time, she swiped the crate to the ground. "And I'm angry! I'm angry that even though everything changed, the faces around me stare at me as though nothing has! Because maybe your life is so dramatically altered, but at least you remember it!" She sucked in a breath and it came with a struggle. "Fuck your anger!"

Joker wearily glanced up and saw the indicator on his console.

"Shit…" he muttered and pushed the button to turn off the ship comm. system. He couldn't stop himself from listening to more, however, and kept the private feed going.

"Yeah, I'm angry!" Kaidan yelled, ignoring the tears hot in his eyes. "I'm angry that I wasn't strong enough to do what I should've done! I'm angry I didn't say 'fuck the Alliance' and follow you like I should've! I'm jealous, okay? I'm jealous that everyone on that ship had more balls than I did—that they got up and went with you!" He stomped toward her. "I'm angry and jealous of every damn second I wasted not being with you!"

He grabbed her and pulled her closer.

"I love you so much, Saia," he hissed into her ear. He felt her fingers dig into his shirt as her body shook from tears. "I came here to tell you that. I love you. I'm so sorry. I never… I never…"

Kaidan was running so hard his heart felt near to bursting. He couldn't stop. He was overtaken by panic, by fear. The explosion had shattered his resolve and penetrated the last of his military-trained focus. He was all nerves unraveling fast.

He hopped over burning wreckage and smoldering debris. The indicator in his fist was beeping faster. The pod was close.

"Oh God, Shepard," he cried without even knowing what he would find. He was seconds from spilling over.

He threw himself against the escape pod and was hit with the smell of stale bile. He was overcome with terror and hope at the same time.

Joker's red eyes and tear-streaked face looked up at him.

She was gone.

Something inside of him broke, snapped, shattered. He stumbled back and his knees gave out. He hit the ground. He screamed, maybe. He couldn't remember. It was a blur. His voice spiked. Something went straight into his chest and festered out pain and agony.

He'd never… had a way out.

"I never…" he muttered but couldn't say it. She yanked and ripped at his shirt as the last of her rage worked out of her and she slumped, limp in his arms.

Joker couldn't take any more of it. He cut the feed.