I know it's been such a long time since I posted anything, but I am still writing. I hope everyone's okay and safe, given the current state of things :) This chapter is admittedly very indulgent in a lot of ways. I do plan on finishing the story, so thank you to everyone who's been sticking with it. As always, I own little, and most things belong to BioWare.

Chapter Sixty-Two: Mementos

The night had already slithered through the ship. It was that odd set of hours that somehow just became quieter because of how everyone walked, how everyone paused, the long slow cloak of the last watch settling over the archways and the console. Below that, the Normandy thrummed, as quiet.

In his quarters, Kaidan blinked gritty eyes and ran the images through again, his fingers shaky against the datapad. The Citadel, the docking routes swarmed with ships, lurching away from its splayed arms. He leaned onto the comm and muttered, "I'm getting them. What's your evacuation ETA on the rest?"

"Long as we have left," Bailey answered, his voice flat and rough with exhaustion. "Until we can't pull any more off the station."

"Understood."

"I'll send updates as we go."

"Bailey? Remember to get your own ass out of there."

Bailey snorted. "I'll try."

For long moments, Kaidan sat glaring at the screen, knowing it was damn well stupid, that it wouldn't matter if he paced himself exhausted or thought about punching the wall. Hours out from the Citadel, and all they had were snippets of Bailey's updates and blurred images forwarded through from the Alliance.

He thought of Virmire – years ago now, when they hadn't known what they were staggering into, and how they had thought it would be fine, another mission, another skin-of-your-teeth bolt – and how he had frozen when Sovereign spoke, the words hammering through his skull. How a Prothean beacon and the dismissive voice of a Reaper had led to this, to him sitting with his fingers locked over a datapad and knowing just what was hurtling towards the Citadel.

Not just this, he thought, and that familiar dig of the guilt lodged itself somewhere in his gut. How he had heard the rumours afterwards - after the Normandy had cracked apart, after he had spent too many months waking up with his heart in his throat and his hands slick with sweat. How he was sure he was going quietly mad that day he had finally seen the intel, that jolting proof that something had happened, something had pulled her from the wreckage of her ship.

How he had been on Horizon, and how he had seen her, and seen the truth that she was walking around, the wrong colours clinging to her armour, painting her all awry. Those fucking colours and how they had planted themselves in his mind, because you learned, didn't you, the way to see people, to understand where they came from, and how they shored themselves up behind emblems.

Emblems he knew he had read wrong.

Forty-five minutes later the datapad flared, the images still fuzzy. He was still looking at the Citadel, the ward-arms odd somehow, as if their angle had shifted, closer together. Clusters of ships still there, floating against the sweeping blackness. More flickered through, and Kaidan's stomach clenched.

Reapers, claws unfurling as they circled the Citadel, all of them sliding closer, no, dipping closer somehow, as if it was easy, as if they were sliding on silk.

Somehow he marshaled himself long enough to send a quick message back – trying not to wonder how likely it would be that the Reapers would've already wiped communications somehow – to Bailey.

Updates received. Get off the station. Now. No time left. Get out.

"Shepard?" he said, when he hit the comm again, his voice rasping.

"I hear you, Kaidan."

"Citadel evacuation almost complete. The Reapers are almost there."

"Any word on numbers getting out?"

"Not yet."

Brief moments later the door opened, letting in Shepard and the bitter scent of coffee. She passed him the mug and said, "Looks like you could do with this more than me."

He dredged up a smile. "Thanks." Gingerly, he pushed the datapad across the desk. The coffee was welcomingly hot when he sipped.

He watched as she flicked through the updates, her face tightening. "There's so fucking many of them."

"Yes."

"And they're going to use the station for their own personal toy to do – what?" She shook her head. "Thinking aloud. Alright. Let's bring this up to the briefing room."

Later, standing with his hands braced on the table while Shepard went over the images – the desperation of it – he realized his fingers were almost cramping. Carefully loosening them, he listened while Shepard added that no, Bailey had no further updates yet. That yes, these were the last confirmed images sent from the Citadel that they had access to. That no, they did not know, could not know, not really. .

"Our plan stays the same?" Liara asked.

"Yes," she said briskly. "We don't hit Earth hard soon, we'll run out of time."

Liara nodded. "I understand."

The silence clung heavy in the room, crawling and thick until Shepard nodded and called dismissal. Kaidan wanted to move, shake himself, anything to pry himself away. He flinched when he realised Vega had nudged his arm.

"Hey, man. You okay?"

"Yeah. Just – long day."

"Yeah." Vega nodded. "Want to come down to the armoury?"

"Sure, I'll lift weights with my biotics," he managed wryly.

"Very funny. I meant you can help me clean things."

Kaidan sighed, not quite masking his smile. "The things you do to get out of work, Vega."


The vidcomm field flickered. Shepard resisted the urge to punch the console and leaned back instead, teeth gritted. When it finally settled, she found herself looking at Admiral Hackett, his face tired even through the uneven blue field.

"I received your update, Commander. We're hearing the same."

"Any changes, sir?"

"No. Continue as discussed. Reach Earth any way you can, and I will deploy the Crucible." His expression hardened, implacable. "I'll put you in contact with Anderson."

"That would be appreciated, sir." Blunt words and she knew they were the ones she should be saying, but they fell too heavy. Catching on her tongue as if she'd never said them before, even if she knew she had, or versions of them anyway. The small pieces you always flung up into the awkwardness before that night before a mission, or a decision you knew would get wrestled out of you, or a choice that would be the one you'd make when it was shaved down to the marrow, because you had to.

"You sleeping, Shepard?"

Before she could help herself she blurted, "Didn't think you cared either way, sir."

"We need you in good shape," he said blandly. "Rested."

"Well, if I'm going to throw myself at a thousand Reapers, guess I'd better haul my ass down to the gym."

"We'll get through them," Hackett said. "Kick them aside enough for you to get through. You'll meet up with Anderson's men on the ground."

"Wing it from there?"

A ghost of a smile hovered at the edge of Hackett's mouth. "When haven't we lately? Any other questions, Shepard?"

"No, sir."

She braced herself on the rail when the vidcomm field blinked out, the inside of her mouth sandy with trepidation. No, it was fear, that gut-punching clench of tension, teeth under the skin and hooking in. So much to do and to plan and to figure out and to gamble with and this fucking time they knew. When she'd shouted to the others to sling themselves off the Normandy and careen through the Citadel to chase Saren's tail, they hadn't – couldn't've – known what they would see or find. It was too many months - fuck, leaning down on too many years - and the tension was a knotted welt in her spine.

"Hey," Garrus said gently from behind her. "You get through?"

"Yeah. It's the usual. Shoot the big ugly bastards."

He laughed. When he leaned on the rail beside her, his shoulder brushed hers. "That could work."

"I should," she said, and swallowed thickly. "I should call Mom."

"That's okay." His hand swept lightly over her hair. "I have a confession too. I need to call my dad. Mind if I join the queue after you?"

She grinned. "Not at all. Give me a few minutes and I'll grab you when I'm done?"

"Deal."

She waited while the vidcomm display whirred, her gut roiling when she wondered if she'd timed it horribly badly, left it too late again, should've stuck to written messages. When it eventually resolved into her mother's straight-backed figure – clad in down-time fatigues, her hair loose and her eyes shadowed in the way of all punishingly early morning calls – she smiled.

"Late call or an early one?"

Her mother nodded wryly. "Both. You don't want to know how long I've been up."

"I know the feeling."

"I heard the news." Her mother's eyes flicked up, raking across her. "You okay?"

"When I get to Earth, I will be. It's the waiting."

"I get that."

"I'll be out of contact for a while. I guess," she added uselessly, her throat thickening. "Not that I haven't been before."

Her mother laughed. "It's allowed. How's your turian?"

"You're meant to ask about me, Mom," Shepard said drily. He'd be wrestling with the same, and she knew how he would be, because he was too like her, that same obstinacy that she adored, but that had its own teeth. He'd be pacing or trying not to until he got his father on the line, until he could see him and make his own terrible remarks about early mornings and late evenings. "Garrus is fine. Run ragged. But he's okay."

"Good."

"Hey, Mom," she said. "I just wanted to check in. Want to take us to dinner when this is all mopped up?"

"Sure. But you can get the drinks."

She snorted. "I can do that. How are things looking from your vantage point?"

"Uneven," her mother answered, her voice roughening. "The whole damn Fleet's on edge, and I turn around and look out the window and I'm looking at this thing that they say will save us all."

"That I say," Shepard murmured, swallowing. "I don't even know what the fucking thing will look like once it's deployed or what it'll do."

"That kind of choice isn't an easy one."

Shepard groaned. "No platitudes, please."

Her mother smiled. "Then you'll just have to tell me something nicer."

"You're prying," Shepard said without censure. "You going to be okay over there?"

"Always," her mother said. "But I want to know the damn instant you get through this."

"I can do that. Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

She laughed. "I don't know. Just - thanks."

Afterwards she discovered Garrus in the mess hall, his hands locked on the table. She slid into the chair next to him, wondering why it was taking her so damn long to touch him, to cup the back of his wrist. "You want to know something terrifying?'

His teeth parted in a brief smile. "Shock me."

"My mother's taking us to dinner. It may have been my idea."

"I'm legitimately shaking."

"Yeah, yeah." She caught his hand properly, sliding her fingers between his and gripping hard. "Go on. All yours."

"I'll be in our quarters soon?"

She wanted – absurdly and achingly – she wanted him to just stay there beside her, his shoulder solid against hers. "You'd better be."


Garrus straightened his stance then let his shoulders droop because he felt too rigid, then shook himself again. He'd sent the request through thirty minutes ago, and he'd seen nothing but the blue whirl of the field. He was inches from growling something unfair to Traynor through his comm before he clenched his hands around the rail instead. It wasn't her fault, and he knew that, it was the distance and the fucking Reapers and the needling, bare truth that he'd been enough of a coward to wait this long.

Again, his thoughts unhelpfully supplied. Enough of a coward again.

The vidcomm display settled and before he could stop himself he said, "Hey, Dad. How's the leg?"

His father snorted. Sharp features blurring when he moved too quickly, he leaned closer, as if he was trying to read every inch of Garrus' face. "I'd wager I look better than you do right now. What happened?"

Briefly he considered saying something bland, deadpan, something that could sink into his stomach and let him pretend for just a few hours longer. "Grenade," he said instead, his voice thick. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything, I guess. I don't know."

"Garrus." His father leaned forward again, his eyes softening. "I thought we'd talked this out on Palaven?"

"We pretended we did." He swallowed, the sudden honesty of it searing. "I guess we're good at that."

"We are. But, you know. I'm here, now." The words were unaccountably soft. "What do you need to say?"

"That's the stupid part. I don't even know. I feel like I should be saying sorry for every time I ever called you from the Citadel. When I was angry about – anything, and I wanted, I don't know."

"It's alright."

"Yeah," he said, the word running dry. "How's Sol?"

"Nice deflection," his father said wryly. "Garrus. You think I can't see what's happening? You think I don't know what you're about to go up against?"

"You don't."

His father paused, head tilting. "I've seen them, same as you. I know I haven't been on their trail the way you have. I know I haven't been there the way you have. I know I haven't been locked in the way you have, and I know I haven't done the work you've done."

"Dad -"

"It's alright. What's your plan?"

"We don't have one. Well, not really."

"There's always a plan," his father said, his voice still burred strangely gentle.

"We're hitting them as hard as we can. Support will get us through onto the ground on Earth. That's where it starts, I guess. Get down on the ground and go from there. That's it. There's no back-up, no extra option. Once we're there, we're stuck until we kick through them." Garrus gulped down a breath. "You always manage to make me feel like I'm about ten years old."

"It's the privilege of being a father. And your sister is fine, by the way. Exhausted, but as fine as she could be."

"You sticking around with her or are they going to kick you off the ship?"

His father barked out a laugh. "They can try."

"They know what they're in for?" Garrus' smile faded. "Look. This, I don't –"

"I know. No one can. Do you want me to give a message to Solana?"

Yes, he thought. He should tell her how he'd been an idiot, viciously angry and letting it seep into every angle in his body. That he'd lashed out or he'd been blank, because he fucking knew it worked, it was the way to briefly convince himself it was alright, that the storm in his gut was just because of something else and not the layers that had been sunk there for years.

"Just," he said, and swallowed. "Tell her I'll talk to her when I get back."


Joker glared down at the cards. "This is so not fair. To me in particular, I should like to add."

Across the table, James shrugged. "Not my fault you have neither fortune nor skill on your side today."

"Get that shit-eating grin off your face." Still grumbling, Joker swept up his hand, glowering at the unhelpful patterns on the cards. They'd been at it for over an hour, and he knew why – the same crawling, uneven impatience that had lodged through the whole damn ship. Everyone, knowing that the Normandy was pointed cone-first at Earth, and that the Reapers would be there.

Not, he thought sourly, some assignment where they'd get dropped into the ass-end of space and asked to dodge in and out. Earth, and whatever was left of it by now, so many days – weeks, months, whatever, he'd pretended he'd stopped counting hell knows how many weeks ago - later.

That day though, that day was still a brand in his brain, that day he'd spun the ship as deftly as he could, his pulse pounding and his skin all slick with sweat, while the Reapers sank through the clouds and into the ground and were simply there.

A shadow swept through the doorway and Shepard said mildly, "Shit, Joker. You already got pretty much cleaned out."

"Me and Kaidan. Pretty sure James can read minds."

She snorted and spun out one of the spare chairs. She was tired, he noticed – which was fucking stupid, because they all were – too pale, the angles of her face too drawn. "Better not try my luck then. Don't want to ruin it."

Joker swallowed a laugh. "What could luck possibly have to do with it? We're just going to swing some weapon we know almost nothing about at the Reapers and hope like shit it works. It'll be fine."

"Sound tactical analysis." Shepard grinned. "And yeah, we will be."

He could hear the buried exhaustion in her words, saw the way her expression faded too soon. How could it be okay, he thought venomously, and wondered why the hell he'd even thought to say it. "Hey. Shepard –"

"You're the one flying the ship," she said genially. "Get us there and I'll do the rest."

He snorted. "I can do that."

Much later he'd lost another hand – Kaidan swore it was two, and Liara agreed – and bowed out, blaming tiredness and a need to go over the charts again. At the door Shepard joined him, flanking him out into the corridor.

"Commander?" he asked, because he had that twist in his gut again, the one he'd had on other evenings like this.

Shepard nodded slowly, as if she had already expected him to speak. "It's going to be rough when we hit Earth. I need you settled and I need you ready to respond fast."

He smiled lopsidedly. "I can do that, you know that."

"I know. I just," she said, and shook her head. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"I'll keep the old girl waiting for you."

"You'd better."

"You know I will. Hey, Commander?"

Shepard paused. "Yeah?"

"It's been an honour," he said, and swallowed.

"For me, too. You'd better not go repeating that to anyone."

Joker laughed. "Never dream of it. Reputation and all."

"Pretty sure yours is sparklier than mine right now. Look," she said, and caught his wrist gently. "Not sure if I'll have the time to do everything I'll need to do. You have to keep yourself safe."

The words were clogged in his mouth suddenly, the ones he knew he should be saying, about how they would dart back off Earth fast, about how it would work, because it always worked, because they always somehow managed to scrounge some scrap of something. He'd dropped them on Ilos, he'd grasped and kicked his way to Cerberus and eventually seen her walking, he'd spun the Normandy around to fucking well get her while the city rippled with flame.

"You know I'll do that," he said, half honest.

Shepard smiled. "Hold you to that. Get some rest, okay?"

"Did you want me to start outright lying to you?"

She snorted. "No, don't waste your breath."

His chest was still in unforgiving knots by the time he was back across the CIC and heading towards the cockpit. The lights were lower now, as they always were on the second off-shift, as if they were still pretending that the roster was normal somehow, just part of the clockwork of shipboard life.

When he slid into his chair he smiled at EDI where she sat, poised over the secondary screens, eyes flickering as if they needed to, as if she couldn't just parse the information however she wanted to. She had said it was more human, just one other thing she could do - that she could enjoy doing - and he had surprised himself by not grinning at her.

"Didn't win," Joker said, and was rewarded by her low laugh.

"Have you ever?"

"Very occasionally sparklingly good luck favours even me. What's that?"

"Shuttle trajectories, the last to leave the Citadel."

"Safe?"

"Some of them," EDI said, her head dipping.

"Makes me wonder what they want to do with it. Got any plans for the rest of tonight?"

"Whatever they want to do with it is likely beyond our immediate understanding." She shifted the chair towards him. "And no."

"Works for me." Almost tentatively he caught her hand, marvelling at the way hers slid into his, silvery and somehow warm. "I mean, if you want."

She leaned towards him, the curve of her cheek against his as she nuzzled at him, the press of her lips finding his rapid pulse and lingering there. "Jeff. I do want, you know that. We have spoken about this, and how I should say things like that, and how you should."

"Then, well. We should have time."

Her nose bumped his in that softly similar way she had touched him so much the past few days. Weeks, really, and so much like the way he had tentatively touched her as well, skimming over the lines and curves of her.

"Yes," EDI said, as if she could read the question in his face, the hope that she'd stay. "We should."


The drive core was quiet, Adams leaning over one of the consoles, and the rumble of the engines beneath. Shepard padded past him, nodded, and made her way to where she could see Tali standing near the whirling blue-white shields, her hands clamped over the rails.

Very gently, she brushed the side of Tali's arm. "Hey, you in there?"

Tali laughed, the sound of it gulped-out. "I think so. Everything's going well down here. We've got EDI keeping us on our toes, and provided we don't throw the Normandy into a wall, we should be fine."

Fine, Shepard thought, was a tenuous word, but she understood. It was a word you threw at people, at anyone, sometimes honest and sometimes a trembling lie. Something to say when nothing else could be said. Something to say when your throat ached with the need of anything to say, so the word spilled out, jarring and not quite right.

Shepard leaned against the rail. "I need to ask you to do something for me. For when we get to Earth. You're not going to like it."

Tali's head tilted. "If there are vents down there that could get flooded with fire, I agree."

She laughed. "Not that I know of, yet. But you never know." She hesitated, wondering why her stomach was knotting. "I know I've dragged you through a lot of shit."

"Shepard –"

"Just listen," she said gently. "I need you to stay on the ship with Adams and Joker and keep her purring for us. No one knows the drive core like you."

Tali leaned back, sighing. "That's a poor excuse for saying sit in the corner while everyone else goes out."

"Yes. It is. But it's also a pragmatic decision. I need this ship to be able to move, regardless of what's taken a shot at her. So I need you where you'll be most useful."

Nodding slowly, Tali added, "And what's the other part?"

"Other part?"

"Shepard."

"Fine, guilt away." She grinned, slightly bleak. "I need someone here afterwards. I have no fucking idea what will happen down on Earth. I need someone to keep the ship running. To get everyone out."

Tali sucked in a sharp breath. "Shepard."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's planning. I understand. I just – well. You know what I mean. I've got Raan on standby as well. She can throw fighters our way when and as needed."

"Only if necessary," Shepard said, the words coming too harsh, too blunt. "Sorry. Tell her to have them get us onto the surface, and then pull them back. I want to see what's on the damn ground first."

"Hey." Tali brushed her elbow. "We know what's on the ground."

"Yeah, they're big and they're tall." She shifted. "There's so much on Rannoch for you."

"We're not talking about Rannoch."

"Yeah, we are. Just like we're not talking about Earth."

Tali laughed, a familiar swallowed sound that Shepard recognised. That half-buried sound of late nights and the bleak edge of hope. "Yes. Rannoch will be there. Did you know we're arguing about names of places now? What a particular crag should be called? I want to say that we're lucky to have the luxury but I also don't want to. It would mean I'd have to have to have some official opinion."

Shepard grinned. "That's a good sign."

"But?"

"Fuck," Shepard muttered. Surrendering, she slid until she was sitting, knees up and arms braced across them. "I meant it. No idea about Earth. I know what I want to happen. But. This is more than anything we've done before and I feel like I've stared at it six ways to anything and it's still not making sense."

"I know."

"So." She clicked her teeth closed, hating the briskness she could hear in her own voice. She knew - and she knew Tali damn well knew as well - what she was burying, that desperate need to keep them safe."I need you to stay back and I need you to think through what needs to be done. If you need to leave - if you need to get us off Earth, if something goes south with fucking bells on, you do it. Understand?"

"I'll be here," Tali said, her head tilting, voice rough.

"Thank you."


The keypad flickered under Shepard's fingers and she stepped through, warmth spilling over her. A few steps took her past the shower door and she smiled when she realized Garrus was already slouched on the bed, one foot dangling over the side. An open wine bottle sat on the side table, two glasses filled.

"Planning something?" she asked archly.

"Could've sworn I had a date arranged with someone."

"Always good to keep these things on schedule." Smiling, she unbuckled her boots before sitting on the edge of the bed. After kicking them off she said, "I wanted to come up here with you right away."

"I know. But everyone else needs you too." His eyes flickered. "That didn't sound quite like I meant it to."

"I know what you meant."

"Just – your crew. We all are. If that makes sense."

"Well, yes," she said, forcing her tone lighter. "But you get a different label."

"Wonderful? Great shot? Surprisingly good-looking?"

She laughed. "That and guy I'm madly in love with."

"I like that," he said gently. "Always have."

Her nerves were wire-taut, lodged under her skin and biting. Sure, she thought, she'd been thrown into shit-shows before and come out standing. That though, that had been blind luck and obstinacy and why would this be any different and she knew she had to shove it all back, swallow it down somehow.

"Hey, do you want to -"

"Course," Garrus said, his voice as soft. "I mean, I'm guessing what you were asking. I could be wrong."

"For all you know, I could be asking you to go get me a new set of dress blues and polish every single button." She settled herself alongside him, one hand sliding down the side of his neck. "It almost seems like a cheap move. You know. Hey, I'm scared shitless, you mind if I jump on you tonight?"

Garrus laughed, his shoulders shaking. "You've jumped on me for plenty of other reasons. Pretty sure I've done the same."

She reached for one of the glasses and sipped, the wine flooding crisp and sweet across her tongue. "You broke out the good stuff."

"Figured we should drink to the end of the Reapers."

"Your confidence never fails to amaze me."

"It's not confidence," he said blandly. "It's knowledge."

Shepard spluttered and gulped down another mouthful. "Sure it is."

The glass clunked down onto the table again. Shakily she pulled her fatigues off, smiling when Garrus leaned in to help her, his hands grazing across her shoulders and then down, finding her belt. She did the same for him, as slowly, branding the ridges and lines of him into her thoughts. She knew the rough patches of his scars and the way his waist dipped in, narrow and lean. He waited, his eyes soft as she explored him slowly.

"I love you."

He pulled her down on top of him, his teeth brushing the side of her neck. "Love you."

They were slow at first, close to nervous with each other, the silence glass-thin and somehow uncertain until she bumped her foot against one of his spurs. "Sorry," she said, half-hiding a grin.

"You'd better be." Teasingly he nipped at her jaw. "I'm incredibly delicate."

"Turian, you're made of steel."

She grabbed at him, giving in to that overwhelming ache, that want, that need to be as near to him as she could be, pressed to the familiar lines and angles and sharp jutting points of him. As if she was starving for him, as if the sliding, slow pressure of her hands on him could keep him here, safe. They rocked together, one of his hands under her thigh and the other around her shoulders, holding her on his lap. He slid into her - tenderly, the motion of his hips slow - and they stayed like that, barely moving, not quite chasing pleasure, simply pressed together, feeling each other.

Stay, she wanted to say, the words a brand on her tongue that she could not give voice to. Something monstrously selfish that she wanted to clutch to herself and hold between them both. Don't let anything happen to us.

"I'm not saying goodbye." She pressed the words against the side of his neck, over the wide column of muscle there, the webbed scars. "I don't think I can."

"Then don't." His voice was low, steady enough that she ached. "I can't. I couldn't."

"I know." She tipped them both down into the rucked mess of their sheets, her legs still above his hips and so aware of how he felt inside her and around her, all of him angles and lines and so loved.

"I thought we'd have more time."

"No," Garrus said gently, not an admonition, an agreement that she understood. "You hoped."

"Yes. I did."

"I did too." His teeth scraped her neck, followed by the flicker of his tongue over her pulse. "I love you."

"I love you. Could we?"

"Anything," he said, the words breaking then, as she'd known her own would've.

She caught him against her, hands sliding down to his waist, holding him as they drove against each other. It was all heaving breath and the frantic press of skin and muscle and the surging desperate moments they'd somehow trapped for themselves.

Later she woke with her tongue too dry, scraping against the roof of her mouth, vaguely aware that the comm station was buzzing insistently, that Garrus was still sprawled across her, his knee pinning one of hers. After extricating herself she wobbled her way across and managed, "Shepard here."

"Good morning," Joker answered, sounding slightly strained.

"Very funny."

"Coming up on Earth," he said. "ETA sixty minutes. There's also – well, I don't know what the hell it is. On our scanners. I mean, I do, but –"

"Explain," Shepard said, more brusquely than she'd intended.

"It looks like the Citadel. It's the Citadel."

She froze. "It's," she repeated uselessly.

"Got Traynor combing the comm lines with EDI."

"Alright. Give me any updates as they come in. We'll be in the CIC in fifteen."

"Will do, Commander."

She heard the sheets rustling behind her, and then Garrus' voice, as wretchedly shaken as hers had been. "The Citadel?"

"I don't – what the fuck can they possibly want with it? How did they move it?"

"No way to know that right now," he said, somehow more evenly.

She mustered up a thin smile. "You want to wash my back for me?"

"You always say the most tempting things."

They wasted bare, brisk moments under the hot water, Shepard blinking droplets from her eyelashes and too aware of Garrus' hands, broad palms moving slowly through her hair, touching and not washing really. She lingered for precious seconds over the sharp angles of his face, over the softer skin under the long jut of his chin. When he nodded - and she read her own thoughts on his face, like she'd known she would - she dragged herself back out.

"So," she said eventually, while she busied herself with the clasps on her armour. "This is it. I guess."

She heard the hitch in his breathing behind her. "If by it, you mean kicking the crap out of the Reapers, then yes it is."

"You can't believe it's going to be that easy."

"No. But right now? I feel like I have to." The solid wall of his chest pressed against her back, and then his arms were round her, circling. "We'll get through it. You. Me."

Moments, so many she couldn't even begin to count them. They'd had those, kept them fiercely close and locked between them both. She wanted to stay here - the desire for it was thunderous, knifing.

"And if we don't?"

"Then." His chin rubbed against the side of her head, his breath hitching. "Then I'll wait for you, afterwards. Wherever we end up. And you'd better damn well wait for me."

She laughed then, surprising herself, the sound lodging thickly in her throat. Stupidly, her eyes were aching, blurring with water and the sharp, unhelpful sting of salt. "You've got a deal."


The bones of Earth were dry.

Bleached and shattered and reaching up against the deep blue lid of the sky. Beyond the saw-tooth remains of the buildings - the city, the sprawl of houses and gardens and hangars and echoes - the air was awash with light, the jagging lines of gunfire and the low, thrumming beams from the Reapers as they swam in the sky above.

The run down to the surface had been rough, more a desperate hurtle before the ground had smacked up under the slewing tilt of the shuttle. Outside, the air had tasted of metal and heat, thick and clogged. Their first bolt through the debris had taken them across the piecemeal avenue, or whatever it had been before, before the Reapers had sliced it apart and left the buildings on both sides yawning overhead.

Another twenty terse minutes lead to a makeshift standpoint where Shepard let herself breathe but did not quite let herself look, not properly, not yet, not outside of the brisk way she'd scanned the street and the uneven lean of the roofs above.

When she did - slowly, the tension unreeling in more slow breaths - she saw the paint near her shoulders, where she had them planted against the wall, flaking for an inch before it gave way to smudged scorch marks. Earth and Tuchanka and Thessia and Menae, back when she'd been operating on the jolting, raw awareness of keep moving, keep running.

She shoved herself away from the wall. "Details?"

"Got comms up and holding steady to the Normandy," Liara said, her eyes flickering as she glanced up at the way the sky was rippling. "Waiting on Anderson."

She nodded. "Good. Joker, confirm you got eyes and ears on us?"

"Following you, Commander. Looks rough down there."

"I like to keep things interesting, you know that. Anything changes up there, you let me know."

"Always do, Commander."

It was too damn quiet, she thought, the kind of quiet that hovers and lingers and prods. She'd noticed it when they had spilled off the shuttle, the only sharp sound the crunch of their boots against the ground and the rumbling shift of the Reapers as they curved through the air above.

"We're being watched," she murmured when Garrus leaned against the wall beside her.

"Course we are. We punched through their outer defenses and they won't be liking that."

"So we're playing wait for the surprise."

"Only a surprise if you don't expect it." He nudged his shoulder against hers and she could feel the locked stiffness in him, half-buried under the easy words. "Checked in with Victus. He's got the rest of his ships shadowing Hackett's."

"He make it down to the ground alright?"

"Bumpy ride."

Shepard snorted. "That was a lot of Reapers. Still is."

"Whole wall of Reapers."

Unbidden she laughed, the sound of it catching painfully in her throat. "I can't believe you remembered that. I can't believe you remembered that now."

"Hey, what I'm looking at, it's not a joke anymore," he said wryly. "It's a boring technical description."

"Boring? Turian, you're insane."

"Works for you."

"It does." She moved so she could look back at Liara, seeing the shift in her face, the sudden understandable blink, the hope. "Update?"

"Here," Liara answered.

"Shepard." Anderson's voice, crackling through as if he was a million miles away, the edges of the word blurred. "Good of you to drop by."

"You know me. I like to keep my promises."