Elasa

~Shepard~

Breathe. Just breathe.

I can't. There's a sucking black hole in my chest where my lungs ought to be.

What are you doing? Don't just leave him in there. Don't leave him...

Turning back to the door, I lift my hand up to the auto-lock. It glows red. I can still see the mottled blue of Kolyat's bowed head through the glass, praying and weeping over his father's body. Both are turned toward the enormous window overlooking the majestic pools and fountains of the presidium – the last thing he saw with his fathomless black eyes before I reached over and closed them forever.

No. Let it go. It's over. You've said your goodbyes. Just breathe.

I remain at the threshold of the operating room a few moments longer. A lanky, sandy-skinned salarian doctor pauses to look at me with concern. He gazes at the room behind me and understanding dawns. He gives a sympathetic quirk of his mouth before hurrying on, clipboard in hand.

You're a mess. Can't let Hackett see you like this. Can't let the crew see you like this.

I do the only thing I can do – what I have always done.

Put one foot in front of the next. Ride the numbness through the next steps. Washroom. Normandy. Debrief with Hackett. Check in on the crew.

They'll be worried after the coup attempt on the Citadel. After Udina...

God...that stupid, stupid bastard. And that Cerberus freak, Kai fucking Leng...

Murderer. I will chase him through every mass relay in the galaxy if I have to. I will break him, beat him with my bare hands, choke the life out of him until that smug look disappears from his face.

I skirt through Huerta Memorial's waiting area, keeping my head down to avoid prying eyes. I dart into the washroom. Thankfully, it is empty. Activating my omni-tool, I punch in a series of commands to engage the maintenance lock.

With the door safely shut behind me, I turn toward the mirror. My cheeks are gaunt, my eyes sunken and bloodshot. My dress blues are dirty and torn, blood smeared across the abdomen. I touch it – his blood. My hair stands up in wild kinks, matted with sweat and medi-gel. The jaunty fuchsia I dyed it in a fit of boredom during my Alliance house arrest seems to mock me now. I want to pull it all out. I want to be ugly.

I never want anyone to look at me again, the way he looked at me.

He seemed so small, lying there. Struggling to breathe. His hands were so cold. They'd always looked like they should be cold, but they weren't. They were warm...

My eyes sting and I shut them hard.

Don't think. Keep moving. Normandy. Hackett. Crew.

Activating the taps, I splash cold water on my face until the stinging passes, wipe away tracks of tears and rake my fingers through my hair. I still look like shit, but Admiral Hackett's seen me at the end of a hundred firefights. I square my shoulders.

Move, soldier.

I release the lockout on the washroom door. Two asari doctors shoulder their way inside, their pretty cerulean faces creased with irritation. Ignoring them, I make for the elevator. I need to put some distance between myself and this godforsaken hospital.

As I punch in my destination, I am flooded with the memory of the last time I left Huerta in this elevator.

My back presses against the cold metal panel, dress uniform top pulled partway open and bunched up above my waist. His hands are running all over me, tangled in my hair, his ragged breath against my neck. "Siha," he whispers as I pull him closer.

I choke back a sob.

Breathe.

The elevator trip is brief, and I am deposited at docking bay D-24 before the memory overwhelms me. Almost running now, I push my way past the rush of people crowding the docks – soldiers saying final goodbyes to their tearful significant others, reporters on the prowl for their next scoop, C-Sec officers pacing around the perimeter with grim faces, civilians staring at the skies, waiting for the ships carrying their loved ones. I evade them all, arriving at the airlock leading to the Normandy.

I look up. Standing by the airlock is the last person I want to see right now.
"Commander Shepard!" Lieutenant-Commander Ashley Williams is leaning against the

wall. God dammit, has she been standing there waiting for me?

"Williams," I reply, leveling an expectant look at the young officer.
"Can we talk, Commander?" Williams is eager, tense.
"Can it wait, Ash? This isn't a good time."
"It'll only take a minute," Ash insists.
I sigh and face her. "Okay, shoot."
"About what happened out there..." she begins.
If she asks me if I'm with Cerberus again, I'm pretty sure I'm going to punch her right in

the face.

"I...I was ready to shoot you," Williams says, her voice shaking. "I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if I had…"

I soften a bit. She's still rattled by the standoff.

"Ash – I'm just glad we were both able to trust each other and stand down."

"Yeah – me, too," Williams agrees. "I can't believe you killed Udina!"

My mouth is a hard line. "He didn't leave me much choice."

"He had it coming. I should have seen it. I could have stopped all this if I'd realized–"

"I didn't see it either, Ash. Hell, after Earth was hit by the Reapers, Udina was starting to look downright sympathetic. If Councilor Valern hadn't followed Udina's money trail and tipped me off..." I trail off.

If you hadn't found out about the Cerberus plot, he wouldn't have been there to meet Kai Leng's sword. He wouldn't have ended the fight slumped against the wall, blood pouring through his long green fingers, insisting "I have time," so you would unsuccessfully pursue Leng instead of staying to apply medi-gel to his wound. He wouldn't have spent the last of his breath begging his ancient goddesses for your salvation...

Shaking off the memory, I change the subject. "So, what are your plans now?"

"I've been offered a position on Admiral Hackett's team," Ash confesses.

"That's quite an honour – right in the middle of the action. And Hackett's the best."

"Not quite the best, ma'am," she smiles at me.

"Have you accepted the posting?" I ask. Now that Ash is a Spectre, she has far more say than a typical Alliance soldier regarding her own deployment.

"No," Ash hesitates, then adds, "I wanted to talk to you first. If you'll allow it, I'd rather be on the Normandy."

I extend my hand to shake hers. As much as Williams's sanctimonious attitude still rankles, she's an outstanding soldier, and I know I'm going to need her. "We'll be proud to have you back, Ash. Grab your gear."

Ash's mouth, still faintly bruised from her near-fatal altercation with Dr. Eva at the Mars Archive, curves into a smile. "Thanks ma'am. I'll be aboard shortly," she salutes, and springs off to make the necessary arrangements.

With some relief, I allow the rictus of decorum to slide from my face. I gaze out over the railing, watching the ships arriving and departing. After a few minutes, I turn and open the airlock.

Normandy. Hackett.

I grip the console and lean toward the Q.E.C. receiver. The holo-image of Admiral Hackett wavers, giving the man a tremulous quality ill-matched with his stalwart in-person presentation. Concern is now permanently etched on his weathered face.

"It's fortunate you were there, Shepard. If Udina's treachery had succeeded, the Illusive Man would have control of the Citadel and the council would have been executed. Your intervention made a huge impact. The asari have finally agreed to contribute to the war effort – they've pledged their Second and Sixth Fleets, the Destiny Ascension, and a science team to assist with the Crucible. In addition, the salarians have committed their Third Fleet – it's a damned good thing you were there to save Valern."

"It was an expensive victory, sir. And I can't take the credit for saving Valern."

He had the drop on Leng before we even knew what was happening. He moved like green lightning, his lean muscled arms tight around Leng's throat, giving Valern time to run for cover. Even weakened from his sprint from Huerta to the embassy, the agile drell was nearly Leng's match. It was more luck than skill that allowed the Cerberus assassin to break free, and it took Leng several passes to locate a single lapse in his opponent's defenses, allowing him to deliver a poorly-placed stab that shouldn't have been fatal...wouldn't have been, under normal circumstances...

I level my chin at Hackett's hologram, "We lost good people today."

"A lot more will be lost before this is over, Shepard. That's why you're out there putting a stop to it. I have every confidence you'll succeed. Is there anything else?"

My fingers tighten on the console. "We ran into a Cerberus operative I've never seen before, sir. Kai Leng. He's a brutal psychopath – even by Cerberus standards – and he caught us unprepared. If my...if a former squadmate hadn't intervened, Valern would have been dead before I could fire a shot. We need intel so he doesn't get the jump on us again."

"Leng..." there's a faraway look on Hackett's face. "This is bad news, Shepard. He's former Alliance military, even completed the N7 program. But he was discharged Cat-6, and serving a life sentence for murder when he escaped our maximum-security lockup in Vancouver. It was clear he'd had help from someone with considerable resources – the Illusive Man certainly fits that bill. I'd better get word to Captain Anderson. He's got a history with Leng – he'll want to debrief you. I'll patch him in on the Q.E.C. as soon as I can raise him."

"Aye sir. The Normandy will be docked at the Citadel for the next forty-eight hours. We've still got procurement and maintenance issues to resolve before we rendezvous with the quarian flotilla. We'll get underway as soon as possible."

"See that you do," Hackett nods. "Hackett out."

The Q.E.C. blinks off. I stand for a moment, staring into empty space. I want nothing more than to go up to my cabin, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over my head.

I can't do that. The crew will start to wonder, and distractions are death right now. I need them at their best.

One foot in front of the next.
I head out through the war room. Privates Westmoreland and Campbell raise salutes as I

step into the security scanner, then return to their usual gossip as they initiate the standard protocols.

"I can't believe that son of a bitch Udina sold out the Citadel council to the Illusive Man," Campbell remarks from behind her console as a sweeping sheet of blue light passes over my body. "Cerberus already makes humans look bad – now Udina's made us look even worse."

"The council weren't lifting a finger to aid Earth against the Reaper attacks," Westmoreland counters. "In a way, I can see why Udina would turn to the Illusive Man. That's a desperation move..."

The scans complete, I leave Campbell and Westmoreland to their speculation. I enter the C.I.C., approaching the galaxy map.

"Commander," Samantha Traynor looks up from her terminal, her eyes wide with concern. "I'm glad you're back. Things sounded pretty tense down there."

I give her a stiff nod. "You could say that."

"Um. Well, I'm glad you were able to save the council. And I hear Lieutenant-Commander Williams will be joining us now," Traynor pauses, opening her mouth as if to say more, then closing it again.

"She should be boarding shortly. Is there anything else, Specialist?"

"No, Commander. We'll have a bunk ready for Williams when she gets here. Everything else is under control."

"That'll be all."
"Yes, Commander," Traynor nods. I start away toward the cockpit. "Shepard,"

Traynor says behind me, her voice soft. I turn back to look at her. "Traynor?"

"Are you... sure you're all right?" she asks, hesitant.

I evade her gaze. Traynor's enormous, molten brown eyes are hugs and turkey dinners and home. I want to go there, but I can't. Not now. Maybe not ever. I manage a quick nod, then turn away again.

Keep moving. Joker. EDI.

I jog along the catwalk to join Joker and EDI in the cockpit. I stand behind them for a moment, gazing at Joker's glowing haptic interface and the vast field of stars beyond them. Joker and EDI are bowed over their stations in silence. That strikes me as odd - usually when I approach, I find the two in the middle of a battle of wills or a detailed autopsy of a human reaction EDI has found bewildering.

"Joker. EDI," I greet them.

"Hey, Commander," Joker swivels in his seat to face me. "Nice work down there. Now that you've saved the council twice, maybe they'll do you the favor of telling you straight-up to 'get bent' the next time you ask them for help against the Reapers."

I give a short, humourless laugh. "They're grateful for once - even kicked in a few of their frigates. But they're still keeping most of their forces back to protect their own borders." As with Traynor, I'm having difficulty meeting Joker's merry hazel eyes.

"Hey, that's a big step up from accusing you of paranoid hallucinations," Joker's mouth quirks, "and I hear Gunnery Chief Williams is back. Oh wait... Lieutenant-Commander Williams, the newly-minted Spectre. Two Spectres on the ship, plus the Shadow Broker. Now I'm really going to have to watch what I download on the extranet."

"EDI?" I prompt after a pause. "Nothing to add there? Joker just left himself wide open."

EDI's polished silver face is unreadable. "No, Shepard. I believe I will let Jeff 'off the hook' this time. I am analyzing Reaper code to protect the Normandy's systems from remote incursions."

"I see. Anything else to report, Joker?" I ask.

"No ma'am. Systems are all running in the green. Engine maintenance is on-schedule, though I still think they're exaggerating the 48 hour completion estimate. You know – engineers," he rolls his eyes.

"Carry on, then," I dismiss them.

Keep moving. Shuttle bay.

~Joker and EDI~

Joker turns sideways to face EDI as Shepard leaves the cockpit. "Shit. Looks like doc was right. She's in bad shape..."

Chakwas had been at Huerta Memorial requisitioning medical supplies when the hospital went into lockdown, and had spent the past cycle treating those injured during the Cerberus coup attempt. Her rushed message to Joker had been terse and to the point:

Thane Krios will not survive the night. Look after Shepard.

"I agree with your assessment. My scans indicate Shepard's neurotransmitter activity has decreased, and thermal readings suggest dampened metabolic processes. She is also exhibiting numerous behavioural indicators of significant distress. Jeff," EDI continues plaintively, "I do not see your logic in..."

"Just don't, EDI. Don't say anything to her."

"But there is an established social convention to offer support during times of conflict and loss. We have reminisced with her about many lost companions – most recently when Dr. Solus gave his life to distribute the genophage cure on Tuchanka. Shepard appears to appreciate this. Is it not standard protocol to offer our condolences?"

Joker sighs, studying EDI's earnest, sculpted metallic polymer face. "Normally, yes, that would be the appropriate response. But this is different."

"I am familiar with the nature of Shepard's relationship with Thane. Nearly one year ago, at Dr. Solus's insistence, I forwarded each of them comprehensive manuals on drell and human mating psychophysiology. There is strong evidence that they put them to excellent use. I have several recordings from the commander's cabin, the life support bay, the cockpit of the M-44 Hammerhead, and the aft cargo elevator, as well as..."

"Okay yeah I remember you telling me. Several times," Joker cuts her off, a pained expression on his face. "Look – she's the commander, EDI. She is holding herself together because she has to. You mention Thane right now, and she's going to fly apart at the seams."

"So your motive is to assist the commander to maintain her calm demeanor, so she does not 'lose face' in front of the crew," EDI muses.

"Right. She doesn't want us to see her unhinged. Being in commander mode is something she can hang on to at times like this. I know. I was there when Kaidan Alenko died."

"But Jeff – if Shepard is afraid to appear vulnerable in front of the crew, who else can she talk to? Are we not also her friends? Can she not trust us to continue to respect her authority, even if she becomes momentarily 'unhinged'?"

Joker makes a frustrated sound. "Yes, we're her friends, and she can trust us. But we're her crew first. She needs to know that we see her as unbreakable – that we know she won't run off to cry in her cabin while the Reapers attack, or the Normandy goes down in flames. Plus – we're not the best people she can talk to about this. Trust me."

EDI ponders for a moment. "Perhaps Dr. T'Soni will speak with Shepard, then. She and X.O. Vakarian have known her longer than anyone else aboard – except for you and Dr. Chakwas," EDI pauses, "I will send them messages to request they speak with her."

"Don't do that, EDI. Liara and Garrus already know – they were there with her when it happened. If they're comfortable talking to her about it, they will."

~Shepard~

Stepping out of the elevator and into the shuttle bay, I hear the hiss of Steve Cortez's plasma torch as he makes repairs to the UT-47 Kodiak. Past the procurement station, James Vega is grunting his way through a series of hanging sit-ups. I approach Cortez first. Engrossed in his work, he doesn't notice until I'm right beside him. He jumps.

"Commander! Sorry, didn't hear you there," Cortez sounds a bit sheepish.

"At ease, Lieutenant," I offer a weak smile. "How's the Kodiak?"

"She took a few hits during the last landing. Just ironing out the kinks now," Cortez shuts off the plasma torch and sets it down on the workbench. "I hear the shit really hit the fan on the Citadel. I'm glad you made it out in one piece, Commander."

"Mostly," I say.
"Hey, Esteban!" Vega shouts from across the cargo bay. "150 – beat that!"

"In my sleep, Vega," Cortez shouts back. He turns back to me. "Sorry, Commander. We've got a competition going."

"Good to see you both staying on your toes," I wander toward Vega. It feels like I'm sleepwalking. The hulking soldier drops from his workout bar, sweat gleaming on his face and neck, staining the underarms of his white t-shirt. He hooks his thumbs under the hem and lifts it up in the front. He flexes his abs, nods at me, and grins.

"Eh? EH?" he prompts, fishing for a compliment. I don't bite. "How are things down here, James?"

"Same old same old." Vega drops his t-shirt back down. "Esteban's still clucking over his shuttle like a mother hen." His smile fades a little. "What happened on the Citadel...that was fucked up, Lola."

I don't have the energy to reprimand him for calling me "Lola" again. I just nod.
"The council owes you big time now. Maybe we'll finally get some action out of them."

"Not enough," I say bitterly.

Hey, be fair, now - you got three very influential stuffed shirts, three more fleets, a dreadnought, and a science team in exchange for those last precious moments you might have had before Kepral's syndrome could take him – or before the war could take you. A neutral observer would call that a bargain.

What would Garrus call it? "The ruthless calculus of war."

Vega puffs out his cheeks. "Politicians, ah? Useless."

"You read my mind, Vega."

Vega turns back to his workbench. "Later."

Traynor, Cortez, and Vega never even had a chance to know him – everyone else has already forgotten him. An unjust end for a soul who never forgot anything, or anyone...

I return to the elevator, punching in my next destination with angry force.

Engineering.

After poking my head in on a three-way argument between Engineers Adams, Daniels, and Donnelly about the nature of EDI's consciousness (and, thanks to Donnelly, her "generous metal rack"), I duck back out of the engine room. I can't follow their debate, let alone settle it for them.

I decide not to stop by Diana Allers's quarters. She'll want to interview me about the coup attempt. Talking to the young embedded journalist would be risky in my current mood – even though Allers is on-the-level for a reporter. At my best, I have a knack for making an ass of myself in front of news cameras.

I hesitate in front of the port cargo hold, wondering if talking to Javik is almost as bad an idea. The angry prothean is unpredictable – insightful one moment, brutal the next. He might just spend the next ten minutes telling me stories about how 50,000 years ago, when the protheans ruled the galaxy and the council races were in their infancy, his people used to stomp on drell hatchlings for amusement.

The engineering subdeck appeals to me more. Jack's now-abandoned haunt is the most out-of-the-way part of the ship – quiet, dark, and safe.

Coward. Keep moving.

Javik has rigged the atmospheric controls in the port cargo hold to produce a cold mist that hangs thick in the air. I can see his bowed form facing away from the door.

At first, I'd been taken aback by Javik's obsessive washing. He'd shouted at the security officers minutes after coming aboard for the first time, insisting they bring down basins of cold water and threatening violence if they didn't obey. It wasn't until Javik explained his ability to absorb traces of past events and memories through physical contact with matter that I registered the water's importance to him. Javik needs the water to disrupt that constant stream of information, to ground himself against an overwhelming barrage of sensory input.

I walk to the basin he's not using and look down at my own distorted face in its rippling depths.

"Commander," Javik greets without looking up.

"Javik," I reply.

"We have a new enemy, this 'Kai Leng' human you encountered on the Citadel. It is good to have a name for the enemy I will enjoy killing the most," Javik's deep voice is like hot iron.

I grind my teeth. "Yes."

He looks up at me, studying my face. He's seen something in my eyes, heard something in my voice. "It is unlike you to choose vengeance over diplomacy. That is your most irritating quality. Also, the monkey smell."

I ignore the taunt. "He's a monster, and we need to put him down before he can harm anyone else."

"No. For you, it is more than that," Javik steps close to me, his bare fingers grasping my arm. His head bows as he pulls the information he seeks from my body. "I sense enormous pain in you. Rage. Grief. Emptiness," he pauses, touching the blood on the front of my dress uniform. "This is not yours. It belongs to the sick one who was here before, in the life support bay. The drell assassin." Javik's eyes narrow with anger as he drills deeper. "He was killed by the 'Kai Leng' human."

He pulls his fingers away, and says with uncharacteristic softness, "He was your mate." I can't speak. Gripping the basin, I nod.

"It was foolish of you to choose a mate you knew to be dying!" Javik's voice is stern. "Such choices weaken you."

I flinch at his words, anger flaring in my chest. "This would hurt just as much if I'd chosen not to be with him. There was no point in denying how I felt, to myself, or to him. That would have weakened us both."

Javik considers for a moment, then nods, satisfied with my response. "There are times when our emotions choose us. Now you face the lesson of pain I learned when I lost a mate for the first time."

"What happened?" I ask though I'm not certain I want to hear his answer.

"She was our tactical specialist. Brilliant. Deadly. She seized possession of a Reaper artifact. It was a great victory," Javik's voice is proud as he reminisces. "It was hoped the artifact contained secrets we could turn against the Reapers. We arranged to send it off-world for study. However, the containment shield malfunctioned. She was exposed to the artifact without our knowledge."

"She was indoctrinated..." I whisper.

Javik inclines his triangular head. "She had access to all of our strategies. Our positions. Our numbers. Our offensive and defensive capabilities. She gave this information to the Reapers. We suffered catastrophic losses." His amber, dual-pupiled eyes are distant. "None could understand. Our plans were superior, yet they continued to fail. In the midst of this, I could see her behaviour was odd. I confronted her. She had stolen a V.I. program designed to guide the asari primitives. I could not allow this." He lowers his head. "She tried to run. I shot her in the back. She returned to herself as she lay dying. 'Javik, I'm sorry,' she said..."

I make an involuntary choking noise and turn away from him.

"Commander?"

"Right after...I just had to kill an ally who betrayed us, too. Councilor Udina. I don't know if he was indoctrinated, but that's what all this is coming to, isn't it?"

Fighting monsters wearing friends' faces, assassinating leaders at the first sign of betrayal, smothering children to save them from being taken ...

I feel dizzy, nauseated.

"No – this will not do. My tale has weakened you further, left you frightened of what is to come. You must draw strength from this lesson. You must remember what we are fighting for, and why it is you who must lead us." Javik pauses to think for a moment. "You and the drell left traces of your joining throughout the ship. I found them...entertaining."

"You–" I start. "Traces?"

Javik reaches for me again, but hesitates this time. "There is one I would share with you now – if you wish it."

I begin to tremble.

Yes. God, yes.

No...

"Please," I whisper, not sure which one I mean.

Javik's cool fingers grasp my arm again. The fog-filled cargo bay falls away.

We gaze at each other across the table, our hands clasped, not wanting to let go as we know – as we always have – it may be for the last time. Sadness and longing gnaw at my gut.

Unable to bear it, I pull myself free and sweep my arm across the tabletop. His datapads and borrowed hardcover books go flying, my empty steel coffee mug bounces and rolls as I vault over the table. He's startled, but still catches me in his wiry, leather-clad arms, his black eyes wide and intrigued. He smiles up at me, shy, his frills deepening red.

A wave of heat surges through me and I clutch at the fastenings of his leather armor, pulling them open. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing myself onto his lap. He inhales as I bury my face in his neck, pushing my tongue deep into the sensitive ruby-red creases at his throat. I feel him quickening beneath me as he pulls me downward, his fingers digging into my shoulders.

A familiar sharp prickle dances on my scalp, the hairs rising on the back of my neck. This time I am unafraid, welcoming the flood of heightened sensations as colours deepen and brighten and the running lights from the Tantalus drive leave tracers in their wake. I think I can hear the faint hum of the tiny pockets of element zero embedded deep in his flesh.

He lifts me onto the table. I tear at his armor, stripping it away, exposing the lean, scaled mosaic of his torso, deep mottled green laced with ribbons of black. I trace the ribbons with my fingertips, fascinated by the warm satin of his scales, the movement of his hard, ropy muscles beneath them.

He unzips my Cerberus-issue jumpsuit and peels it away with slow reverence, his mouth finding every newly exposed inch of me. Tiny shockwaves sing through my hyper-charged nerve endings with each brush of his lips, each flick of his tongue. "I never cease to wonder at the paradox of your skin," he whispers against me. "Soft, as summer rain on Kahje. How can such strength emerge from something so delicate?"

I answer by pulling away what little remains of his clothing. We look upon each other for a moment, and under his gaze I flush with the knowledge that he will recall every detail with perfect clarity. His eyelids flutter as he notes the sweat blossoming on my face, the slight tremor in my hands.

"Siha, you are shaking," he says with curiosity.

"You're going to remember all of this..." I admit.

"Yes," he breathes. "Again and again..."

We collide in a tangle of limbs. Our mouths find each other as he lifts me onto his cot. I sink onto my back and pull him down with me, giving way beneath his lean, powerful body. He takes my face in his hands. I can read the unspoken question in his hesitation.

I lock eyes with him.

"Do it."

"Siha," he whispers.

He drives into me and my hips snap upward to meet him. I can feel the ridges that curl along his shaft sliding deep. I let out a low growl, my head falling back onto the cot. My arms and legs tighten around him, drawing him closer as he begins to rock his hips with slow, deliberate strokes. I feel his abdominal muscles rippling against my own. I arch my back, wanting.

"I need all of you," I moan into his neck. He shivers and I feel him pulsate inside me.

"I am yours," he rasps low in his throat. He hooks his arms beneath my knees, drawing them upward, lifting my hips from the cot. He sinks forward with all his ridged length and I let out a yell of pleasure and anguish. He draws back, concerned, and I gasp a negation, pulling him back to me, coaxing him to push forward harder, faster.

We cling to each other, slick with my sweat and his venom, rising and falling like crashing waves as the cot's light metal frame rings against the floor. My body is on fire and his begins to glow as the element zero in his tissue resonates with his approaching orgasm. He slows briefly to channel the biotic charge into his fingertips, then traces down my neck, my breasts, my stomach, and last upon the swell of my clitoris. The biotic field undulates gently and I close my eyes, the sensations filling me, driving away all thought. He weaves a second mass effect field and I begin to float upward. He seizes me and drills deep into my weightless body, deeper than I ever thought possible. I scream and claw at his back as delirious waves of pleasure wrack me. I seize him with my legs, consuming him as he cries out, throwing his head back, losing himself inside me.

We collapse in a heap on the cot, gasping, trembling, clinging to each other.

"You're making it very difficult to leave, siha," his voice is low and mournful despite his attempt to lighten the situation with humour. "But if it is your wish..."

I prop myself up on an elbow. "It is not my wish," I say, angry, still flushed with the exertion of our lovemaking. "My wish..." I bite my lip hard. "My wish is to kick the crew out at the nearest spaceport, steal the Normandy, and fly off with you past the Far Rim, through some uncharted Mass Relay where the Alliance and Cerberus and the Reapers will never find us. My wish is to kidnap a salarian science team and force them at gunpoint to find a cure for Kepral's syndrome. My wish..." I have to stop because my voice is breaking. I look away from him.

"Siha," his voice is full of love.

"You have to know," I manage to choke out, "I don't want you to leave."

"I understand why you've asked me to do so," he assures me. "You are saving me a lonely death in an Alliance prison. You could be selfish, keep me by your side a moment longer. Instead, you set me free and return to face judgement alone. You accept suffering so that I might spend my last days making amends with my son."

"It's the only option."

"No," he says. "It is the right option, which you always find the strength to choose, no matter the cost to yourself. That is why I follow you, even when your order is to follow no longer."

"I love you," I whisper, my head against his chest.

Javik removes his hand as I sink to my knees, one hand over my face, the other still clutching the basin. He kneels beside me.

"You have lost much that you have cherished. With the drell, you allowed yourself a pocket of hope, so new, sundered from you in its infancy. This loss is the insult that has ignited all the rest – an ember, falling on a pool of fuel. I have suffered many losses such as this. And if we do not stop the Reapers, all will eventually share in our suffering."

I can only stare, unblinking to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over. The prothean's rows of yellow eyes burn into me as he continues.

"You must gather up all you are feeling – all the excruciating fire that burns inside you. You must shape it into the weapon you will carry into battle, a weapon powerful enough to destroy our enemies. You must set fire to them as they have set fire to you," his voice is a rising crescendo as he clasps my hand in his, hard enough to hurt. "When that day comes, I vow to you that I will stand at your side, and together we will bring the wrath of a billion suns upon the 'Kai Leng' human, upon Cerberus, and upon the Reapers. We will avenge your fallen...and mine."

I struggle to rise. I feel the fire burning inside me, and I know he is right.

Javik rises as well, and turns to his basin. "Wash," he instructs me. "The water will bring you stillness."

I plunge my hands and face into the cold basin, trying to shock myself back into my body. I scrub my face, my hair, my hands and arms. I rise, rivulets streaming down onto my ruined dress uniform.

"Thank you," I say.

Javik nods without looking up from his washing. Without another word, I exit the cargo bay.

Crew deck...

~Joker and EDI~

"EDI, I mean it – leave her alone," Joker glares at his A.I. companion.

"No, Jeff," EDI's glossy metallic mouth is set in a decent approximation of a stubborn scowl. "Shepard entered the life support bay two hours ago, and has not moved from her current position for ninety-six minutes and three seconds. I am going to send alerts to Dr. T'Soni and X.O. Vakarian. "

"Maybe she's taking a nap," Joker suggests. "Or maybe she wants to be left alone. "

"Shepard is not sleeping. She is seated on the floor in a semi-upright position. Her serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine receptor activity have fallen into what Yeoman Kelly Chambers described as the 'oh shit range.'" EDI's tone grows firm, "Dr. Chakwas has ordered us to take care of Shepard. Since you will not permit me to offer my support, I will seek their assistance in aiding her."

"EDI!"
"You are too late, Jeff. I have sent the alerts." EDI returns her attention to the display in

front of her, a satisfied expression on her face.

~Shepard~

"Shepard. I thought I might find you in here."

From behind me I hear a gentle, resonant voice I know almost as well as my own. A long, spindly shadow with avian, backward-jointed knees and a feather-like crest falls to my right. The door to the life support bay slides shut, plunging the room back into semidarkness, with only the running lights from the O2 recycler and the Tantalus core to illuminate the bay.

"Garrus," I mumble, my arms wrapped around my legs, forehead pressed to my knees. My back rests against the wall in the alcove where his cot had been before the Alliance retrofit team cleared it away. Beside me on the floor rests the only item the team left behind.

"His favorite cup," Garrus muses. "I don't think I ever saw it empty while he was on board. The guy loved his tea. Or maybe he hated it – I was never really sure which."

He loved it, but he almost never got through a cup before it went cold. He used to say it was "too conducive to reflection."

"Shit...look at me, Garrus," I lift my head and gesture around me. "What am I doing here?"

"Trying to find some part of him to hang on to," Garrus is matter-of-fact. "It's what I'd do."

I shake my head. "You would never fall apart like this. You'd grab your sniper rifle, rally your squad, and hunt Kai Leng and Cerberus across the galaxy."

"That's exactly what you're going to do, Shepard. You just need to catch your breath first." Garrus holds out his hand to me. "Come on. We've got some important business to take care of."

I let him help me up. "What is it?"
Garrus shakes his head. "First, we're going to stop by the bar. Bring the cup."

I scoop up the mug from the floor, cradling it against my chest as Garrus leads me from the life support bay to the port observation lounge. As we enter the deserted lounge, he gestures to the bar, circling around behind it as I sit.

"Name your poison," Garrus sweeps his armor-clad three-fingered hand along the rows of bottles on the shelf behind him.

"Weeping heart?" I ask. It wouldn't be the same, but a drell venom martini would produce an echo of what it felt like to be with him.

Garrus shakes his head. "I thought you might ask, so I checked. Apparently Jack had a taste for the stuff, too. She cleaned us out before we hit the Omega 4 relay, and – well, even she didn't have the nerve to ask Thane to refill the vial. But," he gestures, "there might be some traces of his venom left on that mug."

"No – I already tried that," I admit.

Garrus chuckles.

"Okay. Uh, Ryncol then?" I suggest. "Grunt swears by the stuff."

"Shepard, Dr. Chakwas is still on the Citadel. It's not safe for you to start bleeding internally until she gets back."

"Okay, okay," I study the rows of bottles for a moment. "What's the green one there?"

"Good choice. Elasa, 'Sorrow's Companion.'" Garrus retrieves the bottle from the shelf, twisting off the top. "Asari swill, but very appropriate for the occasion." He pours a generous quantity into the mug.

"What are you having?" I ask him.

He rummages around under the bar. "Kasumi kept all the dextro liquor on the bottom shelf...ah, here we go. Turian brandy." He pulls out a bottle.

I tip back the mug and drain its cold, bitter green contents. I shudder. "It's perfect."

"Sheesh...wait up, Shepard," Garrus finishes pouring his drink before topping up mine. He raises his glass. "Here's to Thane. One of the scariest bastards I ever met – until he opened his mouth. The 'deadliest assassin in the galaxy,' and he still would have made a better poet."

I tap his mug against Garrus's glass, choosing not to add my own toast. I can't bring myself to speak his name, to articulate him in the past tense.

We drain our glasses, and Garrus refills both. I feel a slow, welcome burn knifing its way down my esophagus, radiating out from my stomach through my fingers and toes. My clenched muscles start to loosen.

"A little better?" Garrus searches my face.

I nod. "A little...less horrible, anyway."

"Good." He tips up his glass again. "Whew!"

I snort at him. "You know you can't keep up with me, Vakarian." I drain my third round.

"I owe it to my commander to try," Garrus responds with a brave expression. He fills another glass and tosses it back.

"Do it," I shove the glass back toward Garrus for a refill. Smiling, a bit wobbly now, Garrus fills the cups again.

As I pull the mug toward me, I hear the door to the observation lounge slide open. I turn to see Ashley Williams burst into the room, hair in disarray, cheeks pink with exertion.

"Williams," I greet her, my voice unsteady. "Welcome aboard."
"Commander. Holy shit..." Ash's face is twisted with distress. "I'm so sorry I ambushed

you earlier at the airlock – I didn't know."

"Ash–"

"No...I'm such an ass!" she spits. "I already had my footlocker packed, so after we spoke I headed back to Huerta Memorial to get it. I wanted to check on Thane while I was there. We were both at the hospital when Cerberus hit, but we fought our way out. I thought he'd be okay, that he'd hole up somewhere and head back to the hospital when it was safe...then Dr. Chakwas told me he..." Ash's voice cracks.

Garrus's crest droops, and he nods a confirmation. "We were there when it happened, Ash, right before we caught up with you and Udina."

"Thane was my only friend in that whole damned hospital. When he found out I knew you, he introduced himself, and told me he helped you defeat the Collectors. He was so kind – he sat with me a lot while I was recovering. He didn't say why, but I kind of guessed. He was in so much pain, but when he talked about you, it all fell away and he just...radiated. You were..."

"Yeah, Ash. We were," I bow my head over his mug.
"Oh god, Shepard. I'm so sorry." Tears shine in Ash's eyes. "First Kaidan, and now..."

I can't quite meet her gaze, so instead I tip back my glass and empty the contents. "Garrus, Lieutenant-Commander Williams doesn't have a drink," I prompt.

"Coming right up," Garrus sways as he retrieves another glass. "What're you having, Ash?"

"Surprise me," Ash says, pulling up a seat next to me at the bar.

~Liara~

Liara hears the cackling halfway down the corridor as she approaches.

"Goddess," she says to herself, adjusting the datapad under her arm. "They must have gotten carried away."

Entering the port observation lounge, she comes up behind Garrus and Shepard seated side-by-side on the sofa, Shepard close to sliding off. Empty bottles are scattered atop the bar. Ashley Williams lies supine on the floor, snoring. Garrus and Shepard are trying to toss small, white bits of something into Williams's open mouth.

"Garrus – Shepard! What are you doing to Williams?" Liara's voice is stern. Garrus and Shepard swing around, looking guilty.

"Ahhh it's an...Earth delicacy. Popcorn," Garrus slurs. "Harmless! Well...unless I eat it." "It's Alliance military tradition, Liara," Shepard's grin is lopsided.

"Garrus, did you even show her the–" Liara begins with a reproachful expression. "Whoops - I forgot," Garrus looks sheepish.

"Well perhaps you ought to now." With irritation, Liara raises a glowing blue hand. The cloud of popcorn surrounding Williams levitates off the floor and floats across the room, falling into a waste bin on the far side.

Shepard eyes Garrus and Liara with suspicion. "Waaaitaminute – Garrus, you said important business..." she points in his face, trying to look serious.

"Okay, so I got a bit caught up in Step 1," Garrus defends. With difficulty, he rises from the sofa and circles around to withdraw a bundle from beneath the bar.

"What is it?" Shepard asks, suddenly wary.

"It's...I knew you'd need a drink first...or several...But I also knew you'd want to be the one to do it."

Shepard watches in silence as Garrus unwinds the bundle of fabric – a small Systems Alliance flag – and withdraws a long steel plate, placing it in her hands. She looks down at the shining, engraved metal and draws in a sharp, painful breath:

Thane Krios

Shepard looks up at Liara, stricken.
"Only when you're ready, Shepard," Liara is gentle. "We'll be with you."

Shepard's left hand curls around the plate.
"Garrus," she says, brandishing Thane's mug at him. "Hit me."

"Aye aye, Commander," Garrus empties the last of a bottle of Elasa into the mug. Liara winces as Shepard knocks it back, teetering as she raises her chin to drink.

"I've cleared the deck so there won't be any onlookers, Shepard," Liara offers. "But we can clear it again at any time, if you would rather wait."

Shepard shakes her tangled fuchsia head, "No. He never forgot us, any of us..." She clenches her teeth, then rises, marching out of the observation lounge into the corridor, "I'm not letting anyone forget him." Unsteady but determined, Shepard strides over to the war memorial.

Garrus and Liara follow and watch as Shepard gazes up and down the rows of names, reading each one.

"There are too many names already. How many more before we're through?" Shepard asks grimly.

"Not nearly so many as would be if it weren't for you, Shepard. Thane knew that, too. That's why he loved you, and why he sacrificed himself without question for your cause. He knew it was the best death he could choose for himself," Liara's melodious voice is pitched low and intense. She clutches her datapad.

Shepard chokes, brushing the back of her wrist across her eyes, lowering her face to stare down at the plate in her hand.

Her fingers shaking, she raises the plate, clicking it into a magnetic slot in the same column as Kaidan Alenko's name. She brushes her fingertips across the engraving, unable to let go. She rests her forehead against the memorial.

"Thane," she whispers.
Garrus and Liara surround her; Garrus' right arm around her shoulders, Liara's left

around her waist.

They stay awhile, in silence.