*Part Two*

Notice: This chapter is half again the usual length, equaling 750 words.

Twenty-One: Murmur

The day was bright, sunny, and warm. The grass was soft and the gentle breeze smelled like cherry blossoms. There were wildflowers dotted around the field, just begging to be picked.

Funerals weren't supposed to look this pretty.

The coffin was empty, so everyone wanted to fill it with useless junk that had "memories." Garrus dropped one of his case files on Saren into the box. Tali put in a holo Mara took of their party after the medal ceremony. Liara gave one of her studies on the effects of Prothean technology on the mind. Kaidan put in a gift he'd been saving for her, and Wrex brought a souvenir from Tuchanka, even though he didn't see the point in it.

In his hands, Joker held a small picture frame. When he pressed the small switch on the side, it flickered on to reveal an image of himself and the rest of the team.

Joker felt a tiny smile as he recalled the quip that made him stand with the others.

"What picture's complete without the most handsome pilot in the Alliance?"

Joker was about to put the frame into the coffin, but just as Anderson said his name, a flashback tore through the tentative peace.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is SSV Normandy! We've suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy!" He was just screaming into the endless vacuum. For all the good it was doing. His ship was still going down. His baby.

As much as Joker tried to ignore his fractured arm, he could feel the sling pulling when he shifted. He tried not to move as much as possible to keep himself from thinking of it.

"The Normandy's lost. Going down with the ship won't change that." She said. She sounded so pleading, so scared. When he looked at her, he thought he saw tears under the helmet. "Please, Jeff. We have to go."

"Yeah. Okay." He relented. "Help me up."

An explosion racked the ship and she wrapped herself around him to shield him from the blast. Maternal instinct? Adrenaline? Love?

She grabbed his arm too sharply. He felt the crack in his bone as she pulled him from his seat.

Joker realized people were staring at him. Waiting for him. Quiet murmurs hummed through the crowd as they whispered about what he was doing and thinking. Joker looked down at the frame. It had a small sticker on the side—a pink heart with the word "family" printed on it.

Joker handed his crutches to Dr. Chakwas and shuffled over to the coffin. He was about to set the frame inside, but when he saw it in his hands, he could almost feel the heat of the fires and the trembling under his feet once again.

"Work with me, Jeff. Hold this." She shoved a picture frame into his hands and brought her arm around his back to get a better grip.

She sat him down in the last escape shuttle and he strapped himself in. She fell backward as another explosion shook the vessel, and as pressure rapidly deserted the bridge, she was pulled out of the shuttle.

"Commander!" Joker cried, reaching out for her.

She launched the shuttle mere seconds before she was pulled out of reach, her words rendered inaudible by the blasts.

"Mara!" Joker shot himself out of his seat and banged on the door, but it was no use.

She was gone.

Joker sighed heavily. As he looked down again at the offering he was about to give, he closed his eyes and shook his head. "There were two things Mara cared enough about to save," he began firmly. "This picture, and the guy who flew her ship. I wouldn't chuck myself in there. It would make everything pointless. So I'm not chuckin' this in there either. It won't ever bring her back."

A murmur rose among the people once more as Joker pulled up a fistful of wildflowers and tossed them into the coffin half-heartedly. He grabbed his crutches back from Dr. Chakwas and walked away, the frame tightly clutched in his fingers.

Maybe Joker was keeping it for Mara, maybe he was keeping it for himself. To keep himself moving. If he let himself waste away, her sacrifice wouldn't mean a thing. She had gone back for him. She died for him. That picture frame? Petty compared to another human.

Joker could tell he was even more than that to her. And that hurt worse than anything else.

A.N.: Welcome to Part Two! My excitement for the return of this story is tempered by the heavy mood of the chapter. Yes, this is after Shepard's death. I didn't want to open on such a depressing note, but the game itself did just that.

I'm experiencing writer's block on chapter twenty-six, which is the next chapter I have to write, and I need a new prompt. If anyone would be willing to offer me one word or a short phrase (like "Odds and Ends" or "Good Riddance"), I would be very grateful and would offer each suggester a shoutout in my next chapter. If I end up using one of the prompts, I'll give the author a follow for helping me out. If you're a guest, I'll just say thank you a lot in the Author's Note next week. :)