The golden particles showered down over Tuchanka for hours, drifting with the wind, dissolving on contact with anything solid. EDI's analysis was that the entire planet would be exposed to the genophage cure within fourteen hours.

Garrus inhaled carefully, watching the slow fall of the healing dust. The air smelled like nothing he could describe, overwhelming Tuchanka's usual aura of dust and metal and smoke. EDI had also reported, from Mordin's notes, that the substance should be harmless to any other organic species, which quelled some of his concern.

Not all of it, though. As beautiful as it was, he couldn't watch the glittering rain without feeling a twist in his gut. It was ingrained too deep, drummed into him since he was a child in school: the genophage was and remains necessary. The krogan would not control themselves, so we gave them the genophage. Without the genophage, the krogan would overrun the galaxy. The salarians made it and we delivered it. We have no regrets. We'd do it again. Years of locking up krogan for crimes ranging from violent to petty hadn't done much to change his opinion.

And yet. Getting to know Wrex had forced him to rethink some things. With Wrex at the helm... maybe. And Eve seemed... sensible. Garrus had had a few opportunities to talk to her, and thought she had a strength of will even Wrex couldn't top. Maybe she'd be a calming influence.

In the end, maybe it didn't matter. Curing the genophage was the price of krogan support for Palaven. Wrex had demanded, Victus had agreed, and Shepard... Shepard had made it happen. Like usual. Settling a galactic conflict that spanned over a thousand years? All in a day's work.

Garrus finally spotted her familiar profile ahead of him. Shepard and Wrex sat side by side, perched on a low, broken concrete wall, looking out over the stark, blasted landscape. The wind carried their voices back to him.

"Your sister, huh?" Shepard said. "Does that mean I have to go through some kind of krogan ritual, too?"

"You already went through the Rite with Grunt, Shepard. That's good enough for me."

There was a moment of quiet before Shepard said, "Considering how you treat your brother, I'm not sure how honored I should be."

Wrex's booming laugh echoed against the surrounding rocks. "Ha! You're worth at least twenty of Wreav. Maybe forty."

"Oh, that is an honor, then. I'm not going to breed you any clan babies, though, I can tell you that."

Garrus frowned, trying to interpret her tone.

Wrex grunted. "Well. Nobody's perfect. Somebody keeps reminding me of all the ways our infertile females can serve." After a second, he added, "You really never having any?"

"Never was sure I wanted any. And now..." Shepard laughed a little. "Kind of in the middle of fighting a war here, Wrex."

"That's no reason not to think about the future." Wrex's voice was firm.

"Mm," said Shepard.

Time to intervene, Garrus decided. He deliberately made noise as he approached, and once within range, called out, "Your supplies of dextro liquor are seriously lacking, Wrex."

Wrex snorted. "Don't complain about the hospitality, Garrus. You wouldn't want to see the usual Tuchanka welcome for turians."

"Ah, Wrex, that hurts my feelings. Nothing special for your only turian friend?"

"How about I make it up to you by giving you your planet back?"

Garrus made a show of considering, looking up into the sky and scratching the side of his head. "That'll do," he declared, and took a seat on the wall next to Shepard.

She sent him a smile, absent-mindedly rolling her right shoulder.

"You all right?" he asked quietly. He knew she'd had more than one close shave with a Brute. They'd done impossible things before, but even covering her as she dashed to the maw hammers had tested his own accuracy and reflexes severely. He knew he'd be feeling it in the morning; he couldn't imagine how Shepard would be feeling.

"Fine," said Shepard. "Hoping I don't have to play dodge-the-Reaper again tomorrow, though."

Wrex laughed. "You had all the fun."

"Fun," Garrus said dryly. "Yes. That was just what I was thinking out there, how much fun it was."

"Stop whining, turian. You losing your edge?"

Probably, Garrus thought. From chasing Saren to Omega to the Collector mission to the Reaper task force to watching Palaven burn, it had been a long road. "Not all of us took a two-year vacation to sit on a throne, Wrex," he said lightly.

"You try keeping these idiots in line," Wrex said with a guffaw. "Then tell me if it's a vacation."

Shepard just smiled. "Gonna be a lot more little idiots before too long."

"Naw," said Wrex. "We're going to raise these whelps right. Smarter. Not going to waste their lives as killing for credits."

She nodded. "I'd drink to that. If we could all drink," she added with a crooked grin at Garrus.

"And to Mordin," he added.

Her smile dimmed. "Yeah." She cast a sidelong look at Wrex. "You really going to name one of the kids for him?"

"Don't think I can get out of it now."

"He's the one who gave your people a future, Wrex, not me."

Wrex grunted. "Think there's enough credit to go around, Shepard."

She might have been about to speak again, but her comm pinged first, and she sighed. "Yes, Traynor, what is it? Okay." She picked up her feet, spun around on the wall, and stepped off, going back the way Garrus had come.

It was starting to grow dark. The drift of golden particles seemed to have dissipated, leaving behind a dull haze that obscured the stars. Somewhere in the distance a pack of varren bayed. When the sound of Shepard's steps had faded, Wrex said, "She holding up all right?"

Garrus tapped idly at the concrete he was sitting on. "She's carrying a lot of weight," he said carefully.

"You think I don't know that? I've been in that war room. Everybody wants a piece of her. Councilors, Alliance, your Primarch."

"You," Garrus added, without heat.

"And that's not what I asked you," Wrex continued, ignoring him. "I asked how she's holding up."

Garrus blew out a breath. "I don't think she's sleeping enough. She's mostly eating all right." The truth was, she already seemed worn. Sometimes she acted like her usual self: energetic, gregarious, lifting up her crew by sheer force of will. But other times, her patience frayed more quickly than usual, and she seemed quieter, more withdrawn. He knew she had nightmares often. She would let him soothe her, but she didn't talk about them. She was keeping a lot of things to herself. He'd gotten her to talk a little, back on the Citadel, but he wasn't sure it was enough. "I think she's pushing herself too hard," he admitted.

Wrex nodded. "What I thought."

"Then why'd you ask?" Garrus returned with a bit of irritation. "If you see so much, down in the war room."

Wrex glared at him sideways with one red eye. "Because I'm not going to be there any more, Garrus. Wanted to make sure you knew the score."

Garrus bristled. "I'm watching her back. You can count on that."

"A warrior's in the same fight for too long, it's easy to give up."

"Shepard never gives up," Garrus scoffed.

"You sure about that?" asked Wrex. "I don't mean on the fight. I mean, giving up on everything that's not the fight. And then, win or lose..." He shrugged. "There's not much left."

Garrus thought that one over, uneasy. He could see what Wrex was getting at; he'd known older C-Sec officers like that, closed off to everything but the job. Shepard, though—Shepard was vital and fiery, always interested in everyone around her. She'd come back from the dead with her sanity and her spirit intact.

And somewhere in those months since the Collector base, she'd started to get stretched too thin. Garrus frowned out at the darkening wilderness of Tuchanka. "I'll look out for her," he repeated, starting to formulate a plan. Maybe he could convince her to take some down time on their next trip to the Citadel.

"Do that," Wrex said. "Just mind what I said."

"I will." He glanced over his shoulder. "I should see what's going on now."

Wrex grunted and waved him off. It didn't take Garrus long to find Shepard, since she was heading back toward him. "Shuttle's on the way," she informed him. "I'll have to send Wrex a farewell message. Apparently I've got a call waiting from the salarian councilor."

"Maybe they're coming around?" Garrus suggested, as they headed for the landing pad.

"We can hope." She paused. "Everything all right?"

He had just been thinking that she looked tired, in fact. But he said, "Yeah. Just talking to Wrex. Big day."

"I'll say." She rubbed the back of her neck and rolled her shoulder with a grimace.

"You should get that looked at."

"Don't hover," she said, but she was smiling. "I will."

The shuttle landed lightly in front of them, as Garrus cleared his throat and asked, "Did it bother you? What Wrex said about kids?"

"Oh, you heard that?" She shrugged as she settled into her seat, giving Cortez a wave, and Garrus took the seat next to her. "Well, I was serious. I was never sure I wanted to have my own, and now hardly seems like the time."

"Fair enough." He hesitated for a moment. "Anything you want to do when this is over?"

Shepard snorted. "Assuming there is an 'over'?" Her eyes went distant for a second before she shook her head. "A long vacation sounds good."

"Room for two on that vacation?"

She shot him a grin, wide and bright, in spite of her weariness. "Of course. Hey, I know. We could go skiing!"

"And which human sport is that?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.

Shepard looked positively mischievous. "You strap boards to your feet and slide down snowy mountains at high speeds."

Garrus groaned. "Snow? Really? I thought you said a vacation."

"It's a time-honored human pastime, Garrus. Be more sensitive."

"We couldn't go somewhere warm?" he asked plaintively.

She laughed, bumping her shoulder against his, their armor clanking together. Garrus smiled back. They'd be all right. She'd be all right. He'd make sure of it.