Inspired by Michelle Branch's "Goodbye To You"

Goodbye To You

One week is a damned long time when it feels like your heart has been crushed within your own chest. Garrus Vakarian may have been numb, but that didn't mean he wasn't keeping up with the world from the cocoon of his apartment.

On day one, he'd come back into awareness within his own apartment, he'd instantly tried to escape back to the safe darkness of his own mind to no avail.

Day two, he'd smashed some of the more breakable items within his apartment, save anything that was given to him from her or reminded him of her. Needless to say, all the pictures and their frames survived.

Day three, the Turian dropped out of the spectre program. It just didn't seem right anymore.

By day four, the Alliance had called off the search for her, officially listing her as KIA. The funeral was to be three days from then.

On day Five, Garrus ate something, but only because Wrex and Tali had intervened before he starved to death. Wrex had hit him had enough to send stars winking in the Turian's vison.

Day six, the Turian promised Tali that yes, he would be at Shepard's funeral – memorial service really, there was no body to display much to his relief – despite what anyone said.

And so, on the morning of day seven – Garrus had long since given up on dates or the names of days – he rose and stared at the civilian clothes he'd planned on wearing. The clothes were simple, done with silver and black, the Turian colors of mourning. With a heavy heart, he slipped the soft cloth on just in time to hear the soft knock on his door.

"Coming." Even to his own ears, Garrus's voice was raspy and soft, not as melodious as it had been. Opening the door, Garrus found himself staring at the entirety of Shepard's team, Tali at the front wrapped in deep purple as opposed to her usual lilac.

As he joined the group, Garrus studied the different colors and styles that were presented before him. Wrex wore his family's rust red armor which didn't seem like much but for a Krogan this was a huge tribute; to wear one's family armor was a huge sign of respect. Kaidan and Joker wore suits of all black, as was traditional per human custom. Behind him, Liara was wrapped in a dress of the deepest gold, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Still, she nodded at Garrus as they set off.

"It is good that you will be here. She…She would want it."

The thought of where they were going caused Garrus's heart to drop straight to his boots. Honestly he wanted to be anywhere but near people. He just knew that there would be people there who didn't care about Shepard but just wanted to look good.

The walk was a blur. Civilians and workers gave them a wide berth and respectful nods of the head. For some reason, this was a sort of comfort to Garrus; it was almost a reassurance that other people were mourning her loss as well.

Alliance brass had decided that the service would be held in front of the Mass Relay statue that had served as the receiving end of the Conduit. As the group approached, Garrus felt the first twinge of nerves. He'd never been to a human funeral before. What was expected of him? He very much wished that he had thought about this beforehand.

Entering the space for the funeral, all thoughts or feelings seemed to drain from the Turian. Chairs had been arranged so there was an aisle down the center and at the front was a podium. But to be honest, Garrus could handle all that. It was what was to the left of the podium that made his stomach drop.

There was no body, he knew that. Everyone did. But for some reason, the brass had decided to pay for a coffin of handsome mahogany to be displayed up front. Atop the coffin was a pall of black cloth and a picture of Shepard had been placed on that.

Upon seeing the coffin, Garrus was rooted to the spot, stiff as a board. Tali only needed one look at her friend to realize he would go no further. Taking a seat in the back row so she could sit right in front of him, Tali reached around to give him a reassuring squeeze of the hand, but she could have been trying to comfort stone.

People filed in, slowly taking their seats. Among those gathered, Garrus spotted the three council members, Ambassador – now Advisor – Udina, Councilor Anderson, the Normandy crew, Dr. Chakwas joined them as they arrived so she could sit by Joker, and more Alliance brass than he'd thought possible. Each took their turn up at the podium, saying how brave Shepard was, how she was the best humanity had to offer, and how she had gallantly given her life for her crew. Only Anderson didn't speak, his head bowed and his uniform hat clasped tightly in his lap.

To the attending politicians, the speeches were perfect, and they all nodded solemnly. To anyone who had known Shepard, they were horribly false. It wasn't that the words weren't true, Garrus begrudgingly admitted, but they simply didn't capture everything that Shepard was. Had it not been for Tali sobbing in front of him and Wrex standing rigidly at his side, Garrus might have marched straight up to the front and punched the next speaker for his failure to do justice to such a woman.

And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The attendees filtered out back to their regular lives where they could forget about just another human woman dying in the vacuum of space. Moving for the first time, Garrus hesitantly made his way down the asile towards the coffin, pausing beside it.

Of course the Brass would have picked Shepard's file photo to display at her funeral, he thought wryly, gazing at the frame. Her blue eyes bored straight ahead, short mahogany hair behind her ears as it always was. But there was something about her mouth…she wasn't smiling, but at the same time Garrus could almost see her attempting to hold in a grin.

With a shaking hand, Garrus reached out and laid his talons on the coffin. Of course he knew it was empty, but at the same time he almost wished it wasn't just to see her face one last time. Had she died afraid? If she did, would it show on her face? Dismissing the idea, Garrus fought to keep himself in check. Of course she wasn't afraid; this was Commander Shepard they were talking about. Shepard would have gone with a smile on her face because that's the way she damn well wanted it. Perhaps it was his line of thought or the mental image of the last time Garrus had seen Shepard smile, but he finally broke.

For the first time since his mother's death, Garrus Vakarian bowed his head and cried. Glassy tears slid along his face and between his mandibles, tasting of salt. He did not cry out or choke, he simply let the tears fall.

He had failed again. Garrus could finally allow himself to feel the guilt over her death in its fullest now that it seemed more official. He should have been there. He'd promised to go with her, to protect her. The one thing he'd sworn to watch over, to hold onto, he'd abandoned and he had died.

A small part of Garrus's mind recalled that Anderson had invited the Normandy crew and Shepard's team to his apartment for drinks. It was to be a place where they could fondly remember the Commander as she had been in life. He had said that "it was what she would have wanted."

There it was again. That phrase… 'it's what she would have wanted.' What did that even mean? Garrus had a hard time understanding why everyone kept using it. How did they know what Shepard wanted? Of course they were all close, so it was possible, but how could they know for sure what she had wanted in death? Everyone seemed so convinced they knew exactly what she wanted from beyond the grave, but none of them could ever really know.

Finally raising his eyes to the picture, Garrus blinked away tears that blurred his vision. He wanted to burn her image into his mind so he could never forget the woman who so irrevocably changed his life. It seemed so unfair that a woman with so much ahead of her, so much left to do, could be ripped out of the world so quickly.

For a long moment, he stared into the photograph, trying to lose himself in the depths of Shepard's eyes. He could almost hear her voice; as if she were speaking to him from across the void.

Funny it ends this way, Vakarian.

Funny would not be the word he would have chosen. Tragic or unfair would be closer to the mark.

Life goes on, even without me. The sun rises, children are born, people laugh, and the Reapers will come.

Raising his gaze to the stone statue behind the coffin, Garrus could feel the haze of pain sharpening, drawing things into better focus. She had given her life for what she believed in…Shepard knew what she did had risks, but she did it for the good of the universe not just herself.

When the time comes Garrus, what will you do?

Slowly, oh so slowly, Garrus returned his gaze to Shepard's photograph. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle behind the glass, almost watching him, trying to figure him out. In the silence, those ocean eyes asked a simple question.

What will you do?

Time slowed around the Turian, his heart stopping and stuttering for several moments. Everyone had their own ideas of how to honor the fallen woman, but what would he do? The answer came in the silence just as her imagined voice had, simple and clear as a bell.

Sparing only one last glance at her picture, Garrus left. He returned to his apartment, taking only his armor, some credits, and the rifle she had presented him with before setting off to fight Seren before jumping on the first shuttle he could find. There were enough credits in his account to pay rent for his apartment for three years, should he ever need to return. Somehow he doubted he would.

Erin Shepard had died fighting for what she believed in. The only fitting tribute to her memory would be to do the same as she had done. Glancing at the ticket clasped firmly in his talon, Garrus read the destination once more while the shuttle made for the Mass Relay. In human script, the blue eyed Turian didn't need a translator to know it read Omega. Overhead the announcer stated that this would be the last look at the Citadel before they left the system.

Garrus Vakarian did not look back.