[Entry 011]

She'll get what's coming to her. Hero or not, Shepard has the blood of millions on her hands.

Enough time has passed that people have begun to come out of the woodwork. They've had time to analyze each response, scrutinize my every action, investigate every rumor. They are familiarizing themselves with what went on "behind the scenes". They are weighing the good deeds, the times Commander Shepard beat impossible odds, and seeing if they measure up against everything lost.

Most people still believe I did everything I could but there are some who don't.

My therapist says that's always the case. She says I could have done everything right and still people would find something to complain about. I know she's right. I know she's right even as my brain tells me she said "could have done" instead of "did". It makes me wonder how she saw the war, how she still sees it. It makes me wonder what her story is.

But we don't meet to talk about her. We meet to talk about me.

It's mainly the Batarians. They're calling for justice for the Arahok system. They want me to take responsibility for all the lives lost when I destroyed the Alpha Relay. They believe those Batarians would still be alive if it weren't for my actions that day. The truth is that we'd probably all be dead by now if I hadn't.

That fact doesn't placate their anger and it doesn't help me sleep at night.

They don't want to believe that and they don't want to believe that if I'd had the chance to save those souls lost that I would have. They think that my history has colored my opinions of their race.

We have rescinded the war crimes charges against Madelyne Shepard but she must still answer for what she's done.

The council rebuffed the Batarians demands for me to be held in their brig until the relays opened and they could bring me to trial in their own system, on their own planet. That would never happen. The Alliance would never hand me over and the Batarians wouldn't press it any further. They may be a crass and disliked race but they were not stupid. Too many races stood behind me; too many would take arms against them if they went after me. They had been decimated but they could rebuild, but only if they let this go.

They did, begrudgingly.

That should have been the end of it. The Batarians should have returned to their ships on the edge of the Sol System and waited for the relays to open. Well, they did but they left a current of unease in their wake. Their very public outcry woke similar doubts within every race. People wanted to know why Shepard had let it get as far as it did. Why she had waited to act when families were being ripped apart across the galaxy.

The answers given by the leaders placated most but only served to enrage some. Excuses. Lies. Conspiracies. That was what they saw.

When I look in the mirror I see someone who is broken. I see a leader that tried so hard for so long that she lost a part of herself she's worried she'll never get back. I see a woman that wants to be out helping rebuild from the devastation that surrounds everyone but can't due to her new limitations. I see a soldier thankful to be alive, thankful anyone is alive.

The fanatics don't see that because it's a private struggle. They wouldn't see it even if it weren't.

They see a leader that fled Earth when the Reapers invaded. They see a woman that is letting others do the heavy lifting now that the battle has been won. They see a soldier who fought other races' battles before fighting her own.

My therapist told me that the Alliance is considering putting an extra security detail on me in light of the recent surge in threats. They had asked for her opinion. She told me she agreed with them.

I thought it was a waste of manpower. Those soldiers could be assigned any number of more important duties. I've been careful. I don't even live in a place with my name on the lease. The apartment was Kaidan's. We've both been careful, the Alliance has been beyond secretive; I was sure there was nothing to worry about.

I should have known better.

I'm laughing now because it hurts too much to cry. My prosthetic is twisted under me; what's left of my leg is screaming. Blood is blossoming on my shirt, staining the blue Alliance tee from where the Polonium round caught me in my shoulder. I should be thankful I still have my reflexes or the round would have struck my heart.

I hear the distant wail of sirens. I hear shouting and the thud of boots on the stairs. Help is coming.

I will be fine. I've survived worse. My attacker won't be so lucky.

He lies a few feet away, blood pulsing from the holes in his chest. I had managed to wrestle the gun away from him and shoot him twice as he had lunged at me again. He was no lightweight but he also hadn't survived years of N7 training. He hadn't survived the battles I had. No, he had been over eager and enraged. Those weren't things to bring to a fight or an assassination.

He turns his head to stare at me as the life seeps out of him. His blue eyes are hauntingly cold and full of hatred.

There must have been something broken in him by this war. He is a reminder that we aren't done. Sure, the Reapers are gone but the fighting isn't finished. Not by a long shot. There is still a lot left to heal, a lot of hurt and anger and pain left to mend.

He tells me this isn't over. He assures me that this doesn't end with his failed attempt even as he gasps and chokes a little while blood colors the corner of his mouth.

I'm nodding before I realize it. He's not telling me anything I don't already know. I don't hate him but I haven't come this far to lay down my life to the fanatics who will never feel I have sacrificed enough.

"Karma's…a bitch…Commander Shepard," he snarls.

I feel something stir in me. Something familiar. Something that had been missing for far too long. It's not this new, broken Shepard that answers him but the old me. Madelyne Shepard of the Alliance Navy. Commander of the SSV Normandy.

"Yes, it is," I agree and my lips pull back in a snarl all my own. "But then so are Polonium rounds."