As always, a huge thank-you to everyone who is following this story.

Chapter Fifty-One – Aftermath

The dry yellow rocks unraveled into the pale blur of the horizon, high columns lashed by the desert wind. Closer, the sand stirred, ribboning against small stones and scrubby thin brush and Tali's boots. She waited, her fingers shaking where they were pressed over her comm, her words somehow firm when she said, "Sending a transport to you."

"Tell them to hurry," Garrus replied, his voice rough. "And call the Normandy in."

She complied, fast and brisk and shoving back the lurching worry of just what they must have seen, of how it must have looked when the Reaper had come crumpling down. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders rigid.

She was aware of Legion beside her, its poised stillness unbroken, James and Liara on her other side. She thought of the geth's words, calm and crisp against the roil of her own mind. She thought of what it had said – the impossible, life, growing and emerging – and just what it had offered.

Not a solution, she thought, but perhaps an ending.

"Creator Zorah," Legion said. "I am tracking an incoming Creator shuttle."

She followed the tilt of the geth's head to where the sand churned, the dull grey walls of a shuttle above. Uneasily she waited while the shuttle settled, aware that it was not over, not yet, not while she had a live geth standing beside her and the fleet somewhere above, frozen and waiting and impatient.

Her comm hissed, and Raan's voice broke through, harried. "Tali?"

"We're here."

"We need to talk. I have the rest of the Admiralty Board patched in."

"I understand."

Beside her, Liara shifted, one hand brushing Tali's elbow. "Your call. We're with you."

"Thanks."

She steadied herself, her gaze finding Raan first as she stepped out of the shuttle, head dipped down against the battening press of the wind. Marines flanked her, weapons clasped in gloved hands.

"Tali," Raan said. "It's good to see you."

"The Reaper's destroyed," Tali said when Raan paused. "It's over."

"And the geth?"

"It – Legion helped," she said, and steeled herself. "He helped us."

"Tali," Raan said heavily.

"No. Listen. Just listen." She pried her hands apart from where they were locked against each other. "Legion gave us the location of the server hub. Legion got us off the dreadnought."

"The removal of one server hub means little in the context of just how many of our ships we have already lost."

Briskly, Tali snapped, "Because we wouldn't pull back. Raan, you read my report. You all did. They let us go. When Shepard came back from the server - the data she gave us - "

Raan sighed. "And now you are speaking of events so long in the past."

"Aren't we all?" She shoved back a sudden surge of anger. "Isn't that why we're here? Raan, we've taken it far enough. We have Rannoch. We're here."

Raan stiffened. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we start listening. We start listening to Legion."

Raan shook her head. "No. You cannot force an alliance."

"Not an alliance. Not right away." Before her nerves could abandon her entirely, she added, "Maybe not even ever. A truce. An ending."

Her comm crackled, and Gerrel snapped, "Absolutely not."

"What would you prefer?" Koris responded, his voice as fierce as she had hoped. "That you send your soldiers in again, and again, until there is nothing left of us?"

The silence stretched, glass-thin and febrile and Tali found herself staring down at the tiny shifting grains of sand between her boots. She dragged her head back up in time to see Raan motion the marines back a pace.

"This will change everything," Raan said.

"The Reapers have already changed everything."

"Raan, you cannot possibly consider listening to this," Gerrel said.

"Koris is with me," Tali said, harried and too fast. "Raan. The three of us – I mean – just consider. That's all I'm asking."

"Go on," Raan said, her voice wavering.

"Alright. I need you to hear what Legion has to say."

Later, shoulders taut, Tali sat with her boot heels buried in the sand. Between her hands she rolled a broken piece of stone, the edges digging into her gloves, dry dirt rubbing onto her palms. She could still hear them, Raan and the geth, the geth's voice measured and unhurried, as if it was unperturbed still, by the whipping wind or Raan's marines or the weight of its own words.

She thought of how the geth had opened itself up to the Reapers, how it had given itself over, its response carved out of desperation.

"Imagine that for every one of your own people lost, your intelligence waned."

She flicked her comm on and asked, "Garrus, are you close?"

"Closing," he answered. "Weather's a mess out here. You'll see us soon."

"Good. Normandy's minutes away."

She stood, the stone still clenched in one hand. Peering into the rippling walls of dust, she saw it eventually, the slim shape of the transport as it glided across the sand. After it halted, swaying slightly, Garrus swung himself out first, his armour scuffed and filthy. When he reached up, propping Shepard up so that she could follow suit, Tali swallowed.

"What happened?" Tali asked, and almost immediately winced. She knew what had happened, she had seen the Reaper as it had clawed its way out of the geth base, as the great grey bulk of it had swallowed the sky. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Shepard said, leaning hard into Garrus' shoulder. She was ashen, Tali noticed, her hair stiff with blood and one of her shoulder-plates hanging loose and jagged. "Well, for a wretched definition of fine."

"Updates?" Garrus asked.

"I've got them talking," Tali admitted.

"And here I thought we'd have to shoot someone else," he said drily.

"Gerrel's furious, so we might have to."

Shepard laughed, the sound thin and brittle. "Wouldn't be the worst outcome. Hey, Tali?"

"Yes?"

"Good work."

She shrugged. "I have a terrible feeling I've just set myself up for even more arguments. But then I remember that that's probably better than what we were doing before."

Overhead, the air shivered, the Normandy arcing down through the whirling sand, the low rumble of the engines familiar.

"I'll leave a ground team with you," Shepard said tersely. "And we'll stay until this is sorted."

"Shepard," she said.

"Negotiations can be a bitch at the best of times."

Tali laughed, soft and low and the sound catching in her throat. Very simply, she said, "Thank you."


Her back ached. No, she thought, reconsidering, her chest ached. No, her whole body ached, bone-deep and pulsing insistently in time with her heartbeat. Shepard cracked one eye open, saw the bright lights of the medbay above her and briefly wished that she'd kept her eyes closed. She breathed in slowly and gritted her teeth when her stomach somersaulted.

"Shepard?" Garrus' voice, she realized, burred flat with exhaustion.

She heard footsteps, and then merciful darkness flooded across the inside of her eyelids. "That's good. Stand there."

"How do you feel?"

"Like shit." She risked opening her eyes again, peering up at him. "How long was I out?"

"Five hours. Doctor Chakwas says you'll be fine. Just to give you more pain meds as you need them and to not let you move too much."

"Official diagnosis, getting shot by a Reaper?"

"Official diagnosis, not knowing when the hell to stay down."

"We were running out of time," she protested.

He reached for her hand, long fingers locking over the back of her wrist. "That could've gone wrong way too fast."

"Which was why I was the one standing there in front of it." Slowly she sat up, wincing when he had to help her, one hand steadying her shoulder and the other wrapped around her wrist. For long, dizzy moments, she leaned into him, the rough line of his forehead against hers. He was clean, she realized, the dust and grime of Rannoch scrubbed away and the slightly rumpled fall of his fatigues smelling of nothing more unusual than soap.

As carefully, he sat beside her, easing her weight against the arch of his shoulder. "Look. I know why we did it. I know it had to be done."

"What's wrong?"

Garrus hesitated, blue eyes flickering. "It was one shot, Shepard. Just one shot. It burned your armour open, cracked your helmet and you had bone laid bare in your shoulder."

She shuddered, swallowing back the sudden swell of nausea. "That's just fucking lovely. Also explains why I couldn't feel anything there for a while."

"I know when Cerberus – when they – Chakwas says you'll mend, and well."

"Hey." She burrowed under his jaw until she could kiss the side of his neck. "It's okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "I get it."

He tightened one arm around her, somehow tremulous, as if he was afraid he might hurt her. "Still don't quite understand how you were standing after that."

"Tough as nails, you know that."

"Stubborn as hell, more like."

She heard the low, wry amusement in his voice and retorted, "Helps in our line of work."

"I'd noticed." He cupped a hand over her hip and asked, "You okay?"

Before she could think about it, she exhaled, her breath rattling from her chest. Close to shaking, she said, "I'll be okay. I just – shit. It was very big. And it was just one of them."

"Not exactly the first one we've toppled."

"But, Garrus, there's so many of them." She swallowed, the inside of her mouth sandy and scraping.

"And we'll get through them all. One by one. You know that."

"You know," she said, her lips moving against his neck. "You say it like that and I believe it."

"You'd better."

She laughed, soft and tired. "Reapers bitching about me. I'd figure they'd have other things to occupy their time."

"That's what happens when you piss off an entire species." He paused. "Group. Association. Whatever we should call them collectively."

"Collectively they're ugly metal bastards."

Garrus laughed, sharp and almost breathless, as if he hadn't quite meant to. "That's certainly true."

She shifted away from him slightly, tipping her head back so she could look at him, at the tired shadows around his eyes, at the blue markings beneath. "You're wonderful."

"I have my moments." Very gently, he caught one of her hands between both of his. "You want to try standing?"

"Yeah."

It was awkward, and she stumbled against him twice, her bare feet feeling odd and cold against the floor. The second time, her leg bumped one of his spurs and she swore.

"They're where they've always been," Garrus said drily.

"Very funny."

Once she'd levered herself properly upright, he made her drink, the water sliding cool and shocking down her throat. Slow sips cleared the acrid taste from her mouth. Afterwards he sat her back down on the edge of the bed and stayed there beside her, solid and warm and reassuring. Close to sleep, she curled against his shoulder and felt his answering laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "You try being shot by a Reaper."

"I'd rather not put that on my list. Shepard?"

"Mmm?"

"You'll be okay?"

"Yeah." She let him ease her back against the pillows, the drag of the sheets prickling and cool against her legs. She reached for his hand, vaguely aware that her thoughts were spiraling uselessly, her tongue thick and useless against the back of her teeth. "Come back later?"

"Always."


Shepard surfaced from the grey swirl of her dreams, realized she was still looking up at the medbay ceiling, and squinted. She sat up too fast, winced, and blinked when Chakwas caught her arm.

"Doctor," she said, and grinned tiredly.

"Commander," Chakwas said wryly, echoing her tone. "How do you feel now?"

"Slightly more alive."

"Good." The doctor swung one of the chairs out and sat, her gaze frank and unwavering. "Garrus dropped by earlier."

"Mmm. I remember."

"No, again. You were asleep the second time."

Shepard groaned. "Of course I was."

"You were allowed to be, I assure you," Chakwas said archly. "Can you lean forward for me?"

She complied, shuddering when the fabric of her vest tugged against her shoulders. "Okay?"

Chakwas stood, gently rolling her vest up. She felt the exploring press of the doctor's hand before Chakwas said, "Good. There's little blood showing through. I'll need to change the dressing again tonight, and I want you back in here for a check-up tomorrow, but whenever you want to, you can move."

"And if I'd rather never move?"

"Then feel free to take up space for as long as you want, Commander."

"Nice." She wrapped her arms around her shins. "Guess Cerberus got something right after all."

"Right and rather expensive. Though, I would hazard, worth it." Crisply, Chakwas eased her vest back down. "Tali was here, a few minutes before you woke."

"She's on board?"

"As of about an hour ago," Chakwas said. "She asked to speak to you, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course."

Briefly she let her eyes close, absently aware of Chakwas' measured footsteps before the door whirred, briefly letting in the spill of noise from the corridor beyond. When the door hissed open again, she found herself smiling. "Couldn't stay away?"

Tali's laugh answered her, low and a little hesitant. "Something like that. How are you?"

"Breathing." She pried her eyes open and noticed the uncertain way Tali was standing, hovering almost, her gloves and shoulders still dusted yellow with sand. "How'd it go?"

"Raan and Koris are implementing coordination strategies," Tali said, her words slow as if she couldn't frame them easily. "With the geth."

"You're shitting me."

"No," Tali said. "They're actually – I don't know how well it will work. But the Reapers are worse. That we agreed on."

"What about settling Rannoch?"

"It's a big planet," she said, and Shepard could've sworn she sounded like she was smiling. "Koris will send civilian groups down, and eventually, they'll work with the geth on the ground."

Shepard fought for words, gave up, and simply said, "Shit. I'm impressed."

"You'll have our fleet," Tali said hurriedly. "As and when needed. And, well. The geth have agreed to supply squadrons."

"That's going to be one hell of an interesting message to send through to Hackett. What's the catch?"

The line of Tali's shoulders slackened. "Legion used a modified version of the upgrade code and uploaded it to the geth."

"The Reaper code?" Shepard said carefully.

"Yes."

"I have to ask. Did you know that before or after he uploaded it?"

"Before," Tali said. "It's – well, put simply, it's made them more like him."

"Him," Shepard said, and nudged her.

"Yes, alright."

"You trust him?"

Tali paused, her head tilting to one side. "Yes. I had to think it through more than once, but yes. And if we're meant to do anything about the Reapers, then we'll need all the support we can find."

"What's your plan for dealing with anyone who won't sit down and handle the agreement?"

"Legion's said he'll work with Raan and Koris. I've suggested doing things slowly, or at least as slowly as we can." Wryly, she added, "And yes, I'm still expecting reports of disorderly conduct."

"Disorderly conduct," Shepard said, deadpan.

"Very funny."

"Just get one or two of those big geth primes to sit on anyone who kicks up a storm."

Tali laughed. "I'm not sure that's quite the right road to cooperation."

"Yeah, but I once broke up a locker room fight by just kicking the bigger guy's legs out from under him. Sometimes you need to scare them silent before they'll listen properly. Also I once had a geth prime or two fall on me. They're damn heavy."

Tali leaned against the edge of the bed, her hands still tightly clasped. "I feel like I haven't stopped shaking in hours."

"I get it," Shepard said softly.

"Ridiculous, really. All I did was talk to people. You got shot by a Reaper."

Shepard groaned. "I'm going to be hearing that for days, aren't I?"

"Months." Tali hesitated. "You're going to think this is crazy."

"After what we just did? Doubtful."

"I don't want to stay on Rannoch, or with the fleet." The words tumbled out, rushed and clumsy. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to come back to the Normandy."

Shepard blinked. "Tali, I'd be happy to have you. You know that. But – shit, I mean, you're sure? Don't feel like you need to do this just because you feel you should. You want to explore Rannoch, go right ahead. We can always swing by later."

"I said it sounded crazy. I just – we've spent so many years thinking about Rannoch, dreaming about it. But we almost tore ourselves apart trying to get it back." Quietly, she added, "I need to be away from it, I think. Away from them all."

"I understand. You realized you just volunteered to be Adams' new engineering partner?"

Tali laughed. "Adams is here?"

"He was with the retrofit crew, blind luck he was on board the day of the attack."

"I can't imagine," she said softly.

"It was a hell of a day." Shepard swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gritting her teeth through the lurching unsteadiness. "Okay. Let's get you set up with some quarters."

"Shepard," Tali said.

"Hey, I'll just go quietly mad if I have to stare at the ceiling anymore. Besides, I want to see the look on your face when I show you the drive core." She reached for her boots, propped neatly against the side of the bed. She frowned and added, "You know what I mean."


Kaidan leaned over the desk, his gaze skipping across the vivid lines of the datapad. This early, the briefing room was quiet, sparse pale walls dotted with bright light from the ceiling and the display panels blank. The door opened, letting in Shepard amid the bitter scent of coffee and a surge of conversation from the corridor behind.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked genially, one hand wrapped around the mug.

She was still exhausted, he thought, since Rannoch, since the Reaper. Since Garrus had hauled her back on board white as chalk and barely breathing, her feet slipping against the walkway. The slow day and a half afterwards had held that fragile stillness that he recognized, that frozen uncertainty when you knew you had to dig in and follow the roster and push the thought of it aside, the CO laid out supine.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, straightening up. He slid the datapad across the desk. "This dropped in from the Citadel this morning."

"That's such a sweet way of noting that I need to check my messages first thing in the morning more," Shepard said mildly.

Kaidan laughed, surprising himself. "Not at all. Besides, doesn't taking down a Reaper guarantee time off?"

"For good behavior or to dwell upon rash decisions?" Shepard spun a chair out and sat, the mug clunking onto the desk. "According to Hackett, no. You'd think the man gets hey, yeah, we totally flattened a giant Reaper reports every day." She reached for the datapad. "What am I looking at?"

"It's intel pertaining to Udina. From his offices and his apartment. Files, audio logs and so on. There isn't much."

"But?"

"But he did field calls with operatives suspected to have Cerberus ties. Over six months ago. Closer to a year, in fact."

Shepard frowned. "What the hell does Cerberus know that we don't?"

"Couldn't say."

She reached for the mug again. "How deep in was he back then?"

"He wasn't, as far as I can see. It was some diplomatic issue, something about colony housing."

"So, did he reach out to them later, or did they keep chipping away," she said thoughtfully.

"Yeah. That's what I'm wondering. I just," he said, and paused. "I feel like there's something I'm missing. Something I missed."

"What do you mean?"

"I spent so much time on the Citadel talking to him. Talking to Bailey. Talking to politicians there. And I never noticed a damn thing."

"Hey," she said gently. "We've been over this. You did what you were there to do. No point combing through it until it drives you mad."

"No. No, you're right. I know." He scrubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the locked tension there, under the crisp fall of his fatigues, under his skin. "So, ah. How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday," she answered, and grinned lopsidedly.

The comm system hissed, Traynor's voice breaking through instants afterwards. "Sorry to bother you, Commander."

"Go ahead, Traynor."

"Encrypted intel from Miranda Lawson, Commander. She's marked it priority for you."

"Two minutes and I'll be there."

She must have seen the way his face had changed, faster than he meant to, his eyes narrowing, because she said, "Yes, that Lawson. Former Cerberus operative."

"Quite a few of those around at the moment, it seems."

"Maybe a few more if we figure out what they're doing." Shepard stood, small, guarded movements that betrayed just how wrung through she was. "Lawson was, well. Very good at her job."

"Not sure that sounds like a compliment," Kaidan said, smiling.

"A hidden compliment, perhaps." She nodded to him over the rim of the mug before turning, her feet steadier once she was upright.

Left alone, he turned his attention to the datapad again, the next report flickering when he brushed the keypad. An hour crawled past and then another while he scrutinized an updated breakdown of just how well – or not, in Bailey's strident opinion – aspects of the Citadel mop-up were going. After he'd gone over a brief list of Spectre requisitions, he leaned back in the chair, abruptly aware that the blank press of the walls felt heavy, close, the silence prickling.

He discovered the mess hall almost deserted, Vega and Cortez sitting opposite each other over a half-empty tray.

"Hey, Alenko." Vega grinned indolently, leaning back in his chair. "Hungry?"

"You know, I was going to say bored, but then I remembered what we did a couple of days ago."

Cortez laughed. "Go with avoiding work. That's why he's here."

"I heard that," Vega muttered. "Shit. Hell of a day down there. I mean, least last time we got the damn thresher maw to take the leap for us."

"Yeah." Kaidan sat, resting his elbows on the table.

"Shepard said it talked to her."

"If she says so it did. Sovereign spoke. Lots of cheerful conversation about the end of everything, and destruction, and how we couldn't possibly stop it." Kaidan shrugged. "Of course, back then, we didn't know they could talk, so let's just say it was one hell of a shock."

Vega snorted. "Nice. Hey, Alenko?"

"Yeah?"

"You play poker?"

Warily, Kaidan said, "Occasionally."


Long days rolled into each other, two and then four and then six and Garrus wondered whether the rest of the next week might stubbornly stay the same. Two distress calls in brisk succession and a dead-end Cerberus lead and he knew it mattered, it all damn well mattered, but it simmered impatiently under his skin regardless.

He dragged the cloth down the side of his rifle, glared at it for another lingering heartbeat, and finally laid it on its rack. He straightened up in time to find Shepard watching him over the edge of her book, dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

"What?" he asked. "What's funny?"

"Is it your rifle or the five hours we spent slogging around in the rain today that's really pissing you off?"

He laughed. "Sorry. It's stupid. We go from Rannoch to chasing footprints that don't get us anywhere."

"You want me to rustle up a Reaper for you to chase?" she said teasingly.

"I'll pass."

He curled beside her on the couch, silently marveling at the ease of it, at how well she fit against him. He eased one arm over her shoulder, skimming his hand over the banded muscle there. He felt the shuddering rush of her breath against his neck before she murmured his name. Her fingers caught at his arm, tangling roughly against the fabric there. When she coaxed him up to his feet, he followed her, letting her pull him across to the bed. She hit the sheets first, hauling him down beside her, her hands busy at buckles and catches and eventually his belt.

"Shepard," he mumbled.

She pressed her lips against the side of his mouth, and again, harder. He felt the brush of her cheek against his teeth and instinctively jerked his head back.

"No," she muttered. "Stay."

"Not going anywhere."

Shepard laughed then, unfettered and light. Slowly, deliberately slowly he was sure, she ran her hands over him, the tempting warmth of her mouth following. Halfway to laughter himself, Garrus tipped her over onto her back, tugging her clothes off. She shifted under him until she had her legs up around waist, urging him closer. A roll of his hips had him sheathed inside her, the familiar pleasure of it – of her beneath him, of both of them together – stealing his thoughts.

"Harder," she murmured.

Relentlessly he drove himself into her, his hands cupped at the backs of her knees and his head pressed into the side of her neck. Her pulse drummed wildly beneath his mouth, jolting when his teeth grazed her collarbone. Garrus was aware of her moving, sliding a hand between them.

He eased himself up slightly, his hands latching around her hips so he could hold her there, pinned on the sheets while he thrust into her. So he could watch her, the way her head arched back, the way her fingers glided between her own thighs, brushing him before teasing herself again. He lasted her out – just, only just, until she clenched hard and rippling around him – before his own climax shattered him.

In the languid quiet after, they curled together in the rumpled mess of the sheets. He spent too long carding one hand through her hair while she traced the lines of his jaw with her lips.

"Okay?" he asked.

"It's," she said, and looked at him, locking her eyes on his. "On Rannoch, it was -"

"Shepard," he said. "You know, I think I've worked out that it'll get worse."

"Cheerful."

"Realist," Garrus corrected mildly. "I'm not great with words sometimes. But I, ah. I don't want this to end."

She laughed, softly and uneven. "Sounds good. Sounds very good. What if I don't want it to end either?"

"Then we both die taking out some giant Reaper in a well-deserved explosion, or else we learn how to annoy the crap out of each other in old age."

"Garrus Vakarian, bringing the romance."

"Always," he said, and nipped at the side of her neck.

Shepard shoved lightly at his shoulder, her eyes sparkling wickedly. "Still sounds good."

"You're easy to please."

"You reckon?"

"I know," he said.

"Charming."

She eased herself closer, her head pillowed against the inside of his arm. Silence settled between them, warm and indolent and unhurried.

Garrus said, "You're right. On Rannoch we had to – but watching you go out there – and now I'm not making any sense."

She smiled, the motion of it drowsy. "You are. And I know why you stayed."

"That's what love does, I guess." The words rolled off his tongue without thinking, simple and startling at the same time. Abruptly Garrus froze, the breath locking up in his throat. "Yeah," he managed uselessly, and almost hated himself for the way his voice wavered. "I just made that sound bad, didn't I?"

Shepard caught his chin, lifting his head so he could see how she was looking at him, as unguarded and yearning as the way he'd been looking at her. "No," she said. "You really didn't."