Garrus stepped straight from the Tarmac into a shuttle and ten minutes later was deposited in front of a hospital. Outside, a nurse was waiting for him. She was tall, but hunched with exhaustion. Dark circles stood in contrast to her pale skin. The hospital was barely pieced together from the war, and already it was being forced to function at full capacity. Greater than full. The city was in shambles, it had barely been a handful of days, and the sick and dying were outnumbering the people who could treat them.

"Where is she?" Garrus demanded.

The nurse looked at him, "General Vakarian?" He nodded, "I'll take you," she said and led him through the doors.

"How is she?" He knew he was being short, demanding too harshly, but since they had gotten word that Shepard was alive, he had barely been able to breathe. He had spent the trip back home pacing the crew deck begging every spirit that had ever made up the Normandy to hold the foundering ship together for one more flight. One last journey home.

The exact message was Shepard found in critical condition. Recommend haste.

"We've done what we can, but… I'll let her doctor fill you in. We're nearly there." The nurse said. She made made a sharp right down the hall. It was a mess throughout the hospital from the war still, and through the cracks in the ceiling sunbeam played across the tile floor. He doubted this building had originally been a hospital. A small clinic that had been appropriated was more likely.

Critical condition—What did that mean? She was wounded? She was dying? His mandibles tucked in tight at the thought. He wasn't ready for that. He couldn't say goodbye to her. They had finally gotten a chance at some peace. No, Shepard would pull through and see this world they had created. He was positive. Shepard could fight anything, she could headset a Krogan and sweet talk a Geth. She could damn well convince death to give her more time. Just a little more time.

"Just tell me," he demanded.

The nurse stopped at a door, "here we are. I'll send Dr Fitzroy in immediately."

He was about to demand a proper update, but the figure in the bed stole every other thought from his head.

Shepard's eyes were open, he could see their reflection in the slick metal cabinet, but her head was turned towards the window, away from him. There were nothing but a few clumps of red hair clinging to the ruined skin of her head. Her arms were swathed in bandages. He knew her, because he'd know the sound of her breathing anywhere. Humans needed more sleep than turians. During the war he'd coax her into getting a few hours of sleep, and when she had finally succumbed he'd sit up and read field reports, work on supply distribution and listen to the sound of her breathing.

"Shepard?" He said softly, stepping into the room.

She turned her head towards him. He stilled his features, forcing himself not to respond. Half her face was mangled mess of ruined flesh. One of her eyes was bandaged, but Garrus was sure beneath the gauze, there was nothing capable of sight. On the good side of her face, the corner of her mouth twisted upwards, "Guess we match now." She said. Her voice was hoarse.

She glance down at her arms, "I might have outdone you."

"You know," he said softly, "some men like battle scars."

He sat down beside the bed, ran the back of his hand over the undamaged side of her face. "Most of them are Krogan," she said wryly.

"And some Turians," he said.

"How's the crew?" She asked.

"Everyone's fine," he said, "they're on the way."

She nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. The doors swished open. "Commander Shepard?" A doctor asked, "how are you feeling?"

Grimacing, Shepard shrugged, "I've felt worse."

The doctor nodded, then glanced at Garrus. Anticipating him, Shepard said, "say what you need to say doc."

"We've done what we can," the doctor said slowly, "but your implants are failing."

"What does that mean?" Garrus demanded.

The doctor wrung his hands. His eyes darted between them. Shepard reached out and placed a bandage wrapped hand on the turian's arm. "Garrus," she said softly. He sat back, mandibles twitching nervously. She focused her attention back on the doctor, "it's okay." She said. Garrus somehow knew what the doctor would say. His eyes were already saying it. Leave it to Shepard to be the one to help him through… through this.

The doctor looked quiet, serious, but there was red around his eyes that betrayed him. Whatever his composure now, he hadn't always been so calm , "Commander, I'm so sorry. We've done what we can to make you comfortable, but your implants are shutting down. Over time we expect that the computers that manage your breathing, your organ function, and… and your brain activity will begin to fail."

"Miranda can fix it," Garrus said desperately. "She created them she can-"

Shepard shook her head slightly, "not this time," she said, "we don't have the technology anymore. I destroyed it. All of it."

He looked at her, blue eyes piercing and she met his gaze with her remaining eye. "EDI?" She asked softly.

"She shut down," he said quietly, "we thought….we thought."

Shepard nodded. "I thought so… there weren't any other good options Garrus. I tried." For a moment he thought she was about to cry and he couldn't bear it, then she took a long breath. "I tried," she repeated. He bent his forehead to hers, not touching- he didn't want to hurt her- but close enough that she could take comfort from him. "It's okay," he rumbled, "we know. We all know. And you did it, they're gone. The reapers are gone."

She nodded after a moment and glanced at the doctor, "how long do I have she asked?"

Doctor Fitzroy shook his head, "we don't know. You're unique. We've never seen anyone or anything like you before. We know the implants are failing, but not how long before they actually fail."

Shepard swallowed, and Garrus could nearly detect a quaver of fear in her voice, "will it hurt?" She asked.

"No,"the doctor said more firmly than before, "we'll have you on enough pain medication to keep you comfortable, but eventually you'll get tired. You're body won't be able to sustain keeping you awake any longer. Then your organs well start to fail. You won't feel anything. It will be just, falling asleep. You won't feel any more pain than you feel now."

Shepard studied the doctor, "okay then." She said softly. She looked at Garrus, "will you stay?" She asked, "until it's over?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the doctor retreating, and, if he was right, rubbing vigorously at his eyes.

"Shepard," he said, hoarsely, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Tell the crew," she breathed softly, "tell them not this time."

Garrus wanted to protest. To tell her her that she needed to say goodbye, but he stopped himself. She had given everything. He had watched her slow sacrifice of her body, her mind, her spirit to the galaxy over the past years. How could he tell her how to make this last journey. She deserved to determine how she wanted to be remembered. She deserved to choose how this moment happened. He tapped at his omni-tool typing a quick message to Tali.

Keep the crew away. Will explain later.

"What should I tell them?" He asked.

"Tell them," she thought a moment, "either say you were too late, or you know… tell them the truth."

And what about me? He wanted to ask, What about me?

He didn't mean to let out the keening sound of a grieving turian, but he couldn't help it. He seated himself next to her bed, pressing his face to the undamaged side of hers. She leaned towards him. "It's okay, Garrus," she murmured, "it's okay." She took a shallow breath, "but I can't do this if they're all here. There will just be another reason to stay."

"Then stay," he begged, "fight. Find a way. That's what you do." He knew it was selfish. Even as heavily medicated as she was he could see the pain she was in. Even if she managed, she was hooked up to so many machines. She'd likely never walk, run, or even breathe on her own again. How could he ask her to stay when everything she had loved about life would be taken from her?

But he would be there. It wasn't enough he knew. All the begging in the world would only reveal his own selfishness. And yet, he couldn't not ask.

"Garrus," she said, "I'm so tired." There was no anger, only sheer exhaustion.

"Aren't you frightened?"

"Garrus," she said, "of course I am. But I'm ready." Her eyes focused back on the city outside, "you're gonna have to learn to hold a hammer. It's a mess out there."

"Shepard?"

"Do some good in the world, okay? Finish what I tried to start. They'll fight you every step of the way, but they'll do what's right eventually. If they're shown."

"I will. I promise. And you?"

Shepard chuckled, "I'll never be any farther from you, then I have to be."

He bit back another keen and instead said quietly, "no Shepard without Vakarian."

"Never," she said softly.

They sat in silence for a long time, Garrus half laying on the bed, trying to be as close to Shepard as possible without hurting her. She was so fragile, now. Her body in ruins and failing. He matched his breath to hers, noting the moments when hers slowed or stuttered. There was so much he wanted to say and yet— and yet he knew so much of what he wanted to say was already said. Maybe that's why she had allowed him to stay. There was more to it then not wanting to be alone. They had always understood each other, innately and without words they could clear a field in combat. Anticipate each other's movements. They had said everything they needed to say. At least, almost everything.

He knew their time was drawing short when she touched his arm gently, "I'm so tired," she whispered.

He wanted to scream. How could he ask her to do this. He knew what she wanted, what she needed from him. But how could he give it to her? How could he?

Still, she had been the brave one for years. It was his turn. "Then get some rest Shepard." He said softly, "I've got this."

Her eyes focused on his face and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I love you." She breathed.

"I love you too." He said, "always."

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Garrus stroked her good cheek with one finger as her breathing evened out. He knew after months, what she sounded like when she fell into sleep and this, final time was no different. He let his mind drift backwards. He hated seeing her like this. Not when all of his memories of her were so damn strong.

For a moment he was back on the citadel, arguing that Saren was a damn dirty cop and someone needed to put him down. Shepard was walking towards him, shoulders back, head up. Ready for a fight, ready for action.

He was watching her crawl from a pile of rubble on the citadel. Bleeding, but whole. A grin of triumph spreading across her face. His heart was ready to burst with pride at this crew, this family, and what they had done.

He was in an Omega apartment, staring down his scope and realizing his odds had finally changed and a few moments later Shepard had charged through the door, rifles blazing, ready to save his life.

He was wounded, and half dead and looking up at her face as she called his name. Called him back.

He was staring down the scope as she blocked his shot, and for a single hateful moment he knew that one pull of the trigger would accomplish his goal, even if she would be a unintended casualty. He had almost done it. And then she had turned her head towards his scope and they were meeting eyes across the room. He had dropped the rifle.

He was in her quarters and she was pressed against him, one leg casually draped across his and his talons tracing gently through her hair. Shepard snored he found, and unlike her other human counterparts, her snoring was kind of cute. He hadn't realized they could work… but they had.

He was half hanging out of the Normandy as she charged towards him from the collector base. She had lept and he had reached and somewhere in the air they had locked hands. He had pulled her aboard and they had lain for a moment panting on the ground as they hurtled back to safety.

He was on Menae in a foxhole laughing with her even as a brute charged towards them. The worst had happened, but it had brought them back together and even in a foxhole there was no one he'd rather fight beside.

He was witnessing every moment beyond belief during the war. The genophage cure, the Geth quarian treaty, the moment she had faced down a Reaper and won.

He was watching that last final charge into the beam.

He was sitting by her death bed, waiting for Shepard to breathe her last.

Somewhere between then and now he had stopped being able to match his breaths to hers. There was too long between each one.

Whatever happens, I'll be looking down. You'll never be alone.

"It's ok, Shepard, I'll be okay," he said quietly. It was a small lie. He wasn't okay. He wasn't sure how long it would be until he was okay. He knew what she wanted though, and better, he knew she was usually right, "You can let go now." He said, "whenever you're ready. You can let go."

As if hearing him, she let out a gasp a few moments later, then a long slow breath.

He knew.

He knew.

She was gone.

He had seen enough death in his life to know. Still he waited, holding his breath. There was nothing else.

He pressed the button to call the doctor. Then, feeling a sudden surge of loss he let out a keening wail of grief. Shepard was gone.

Shepard was gone.

The world felt suddenly empty and he let out another keening cry. Shepard was here, she was right here and some grief crazed part of his mind expected her eyes to pop open. For her to tell him she was kidding, she was fine and go grab a gun so they could start changing the world again. But she was on the table growing cold already and this time she wasn't going to rise up.

There was a sound at the door and he looked up to see Tali, Liara and Ashley.

Liara had cleared her throat very softly, alerting him. For a moment he wanted to chase them away from the body of his mate, his partner. She hadn't wanted them here. But what she wanted was no longer relevant. She was dead, and he needed…. She had let go- she had left him- but he couldn't let go of her alone.

They were silent as they crossed the room and gathered around the bed.

"I thought…" Tali said softly, "I mean I guessed that this was what was happening."

Liara bowed her head running a gentle hand through what was left of Shepard's hair, "she was always a private person," she said softly, "in hindsight," the Asari choked back tears, "in hindsight it shouldn't be surprising."

"The rest of the crew is outside," Ashley added, "they might want a chance to say goodbye. When you're ready."

Garrus nodded. He pressed his forehead to Shepard's one last time. Already he was being pulled away from her body. She could never belong to just him. She belonged to her crew. To the galaxy. She always would. He walked to the window and looked outside. London was a ruin, but already people were hard at work, putting bricks back into buildings that could be rebuilt. Demolishing what couldn't be repaired and starting anew. Shepard had been watching all that while she waited for him.

She had told him to learn how to hold a hammer. He had promised.

He had been her lover, but more than that he had been her protege. He took a long breath, No time for mourning, when there's work to do. That's what Shepard had said when after Tuchanka when he had asked her about Mordin. Well, it was his turn now. He took one breath, then another. He turned to the three. "I'll talk to the crew."

He strode from the dim of the room where the woman he loved had passed from this world to the next.

He didn't look back, he didn't need to. He could feel her as certainly as he could feel the sunbeams on his shoulders, where they broke through the cracks in the roof.