The sky was a bright blue - cloudless and seemingly full of life. Hot? Yes, but it was tempered easily by the cool, soothing onshore breeze from whatever ocean stretched on beside him. A few silent seagulls circled lazily overhead. Even they were in no rush to get to…wherever it was that seagulls in high summer went to around here. The oncoming waters, pressed inland by the steady waves, lightly bathed his naked feet as he walked ever onward. The man walked - lazily himself, if one cared to watch closely enough - with no apparent purpose. He paused to inspect an errant seashell. Something about "seashells" struck him as familiar. It held a vague pull on him, it felt a bit like when a word was caught on the tip of his tongue.

A salarian?

Shepard couldn't remember exactly. There was a feeling that it was correct. But, looking around this beach that he found himself wandering along, he still couldn't place it. He turned the seashell idly in his hand, mesmerized by the swirls of tan, white and yellow that he saw there.

"Hmm." He knelt down, thinking that he should replace it where he found it.

"Interesting things, these seashells. How long were they here? How did they arrive? Do they convey voices? Waves? Winds? Other…things?"

Looking up curiously to the sound of the voice, Shepard was somehow neither surprised nor dismayed to see that it belonged to one Mordin Solus. The salarian was wearing…khaki shorts? And…a blue, green and orange Hawaiian button-up shirt. In his hand was his own specimen seashell.

The absurdity of the sight did nothing to dampen Shepard's elation. In fact, he was thrilled to see him standing before him. A broad smile stretched across Shepard's face.

"Mordin, it is great to see you, what have you been up to? I see seashells, any luck on those tests?"

His spoken voice held a dream-like quality - his own voice sounded a bit like he was trying to hear underwater.

The salarian looked at him with curiosity for a moment. "Mmm, tests? No. Luck? Yes."

The Spectre regarded him quizzically. His smile remained, but with an added touch of confusion. "What do you mean? You didn't need to run any, or…?"

Somewhere in the distance, Shepard thought he heard the distinctive squawk of a crow pierce the air. The breeze stiffened ever so slightly.

"Luck, commander. Luck. Reapers. Catalyst, and…choices. Like seashells. They're everywhere." Mordin turned his gaze away from Shepard, and back toward the open ocean. "Lead to possibilities. Outcomes. Some good. Others…problematic."

Shepard felt confusion then, his brow furrowed. What else did he feel? Fear? No. Close, but it was off the mark. It was more like…trepidation. That was it. He felt like whatever outcomes Mordin had alluded to could only be bad outcomes.

No good ends…just ends.

The endings would likely prove to also be problematic.

Beginnings as well?

Facing Shepard once more, the good doctor extended an open hand in which he held a single seashell, a conch if he remembered correctly, toward the commander.

"Take it. Press it to ear. Hear things, sounds. Interesting effect. Possible indicator of psychopathy."

Doubtfully, Shepard looked at his friend as he took the shell from his hand. "Uh huh. Is that your professional opinion?"

Mordin only blinked at him before responding. "Wouldn't know. Haven't tried, not part of test regimen. Based on research and hearsay. No firsthand experience."

Holding the shell and regarding it with curiosity, Shepard shook his head with a smirk on his face. "Well, I guess I'll be your guinea pig, Mordin. Worked for me and Tali before."

The scientist salarian smirked at his human companion. "Yes, yes. Worked out well, that. You returned to her, yes. You and Tali'zorah happy together. I am…pleased."

Shepard regarded the shell once more. He was unsure what the purpose of holding this shell to his ear was, but if Mordin asked him to, how could he really say no? Not when the salarian had done so much for him…for an entire species -

"Yes, yes. Genophage over. Krogan made whole again. Had to be done. Only moral choice, only correct choice. And - "

"Someone else might have gotten it wrong," Shepard finished for him.

Mordin gave an angled nod in agreement.

The commander shivered slightly; the sun was hidden behind low, gray clouds. He noticed this, and only thought how odd it was that the weather had turned so abruptly. He shrugged, remembering summers spent on Earth as a child. The area of North America where he grew up had been prone to such abrupt changes in weather - afternoon thunderstorms and all that.

"Well, here we go."

Mordin gave no discernible response.

Shepard listened intently, hoping to hear the sea as the old tales had postulated. He thought he heard…something. Straining to hear more, he pressed the shell closer to his head. Its sharp angles and abrasive surface irritated him, may have cut him in places. The noise was now more than a whisper, yet he couldn't quite make it out. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate and focus solely on the sound.

"Shepard-commander"

His eyes shot wide open, as he stumbled back at the sound of the booming voice - that voice. He felt his heels lose their purchase, and his body swayed dangerously as his balance wavered. Breathing heavily, he realized that he was no longer at the beach. Water had been replaced with open air. Great red cliffs and sparse trees greeted his vision now, and he recognized it instantly:

Rannoch.

What the…?

The commander gasped as he felt his left foot give out on him, his body angling sharply over the edge. Sweat ran down his forehead as he heard pebbles loosen and topple over the cliff. He waved his arms wildly as his stomach churned, knowing that this was the end.

An impossibly strong, three-fingered hand (not unlike a certain Tali'Zorah, he might've mused under less dire circumstances), gripped his shirt, and slowly pulled him back from the edge.

She was reminded of home, she realized. Looking around her, she noted that the somewhat narrow hallways, harsh bright light, and the constant milling about of other people should have been reminder enough. To her surprise, it wasn't any of those things.

It was the smell.

If there is such a thing.

Tali chuckled softly at something that John used to say - from some old Earth movie, she thought. But the sentiment was accurate: the ultra-clean and ammonia-infused aroma that assaulted her olfactory senses was as clear a reminder of home to her as anything she could encounter. Tali had thought about maybe turning her filters up a little to just muffle the aromatic onslaught a little bit. She hadn't, for two reasons. First, the smell helped to keep her awake, since sleep had been increasingly hard to come by. After all, worrying and anxiety were as much a part of her as the damned suit in which she was encased. Secondly, the aroma reminded her of home - well, the clean rooms anyway. Although she wasn't sure if that was accurate any longer, since neither the Rayya nor the Neema was home to her anymore.

Of course, she thought with a wry smile, if any ship had been home - truly home - it would be the Normandy. Tali pondered the implication that her real home, her real home, had been an alien one. "Home" was probably never a place to begin with, was it? I suppose not. The Rayya was only home because mother had been alive there, and even father was, well, more alive then, too.

She paused at the thought of her father, who had been dead for a little over a year by now. Yeah, but he'd stopped living long before that. Maybe in his mind he was…alive, but for those of us around him - me, Auntie Raan, maybe even Han'Gerrel - he'd died the same day mother had. No amount of good intentions will bring him back. And as for the Neema, I don't think that I was alive on that ship either. Breathing? Sure. Living? No, definitely not. What life I had until then died over Alchera.

The quarian shook her head dismissively, dismayed at how quickly her thoughts took such a dark turn. As she meandered through the halls, she continued to ponder.

I suppose that that's pretty telling about what completes - who completes - me. And I'm perfectly okay with that. She felt a comforting warmth fill her then. The mere thought of John Shepard, and their life together that he had fought so hard to give to her, comforted her in a way that few things could. I can't believe that he actually came back - again - this time just for me. And yet…

She had been wandering the hallways of St. Anthony's Hospital, off and on, for the better part of three days now. The elation that she had felt when she found John - her saera - had slowly eroded as the hours ticked by. She was sometimes buoyed by her thoughtful meanderings, but all too often when she was left to her own devices she would find herself dwelling on the darkness.

Despite everything, what if Liara and Garrus are wrong? I still haven't talked to him.

She groaned audibly, annoyed with herself.

Keelah, Tali. Stop it. Why do I always have to be like this?

It had been almost three days since Chakwas and her team had brought Shepard here. His injuries were extensive and would require multiple major surgeries to fix. Even then, Chakwas had told her that he would not be the same - physically, anyway - and he would never regain the physical traits that had made him such a successful soldier. At this thought, Tali felt a mixture of emotions. She was incredibly sad and dismayed that John had suffered so, and yet…was there also relief? That he wouldn't be able to be a soldier anymore? Maybe they could have a real life together. She wondered how it would feel if she somehow lost her incredible ability to be an engineer.

Shaking her head to dismiss these thoughts, her face flushed in embarrassment, guilt, and shame that she had even entertained the thought that the injuries to her saera were anything other than horrid. Instead, she forced her mind to return to the moment when she found him, slumped over by the Avina terminal on the ruined Citadel. How she had pleaded for him to come back to her. How when she stroked his cheek, his hand had reached up to hers and grasped it with firmness. His eyes had shot open and -

"Tali'zorah, you are a bosh'tet if you doubt for one second that he'll want anything other than your love." To her surprise, the words had escaped her mouth and made themselves manifest through her own voice. Taken aback, she had stopped walking altogether and stood silently - thankful that her vocalizer was muted. Around her, nurses and other personnel politely milled past her.

She shuffled to the side, trying to get out of the way of the actual workers trying to save lives. When she did so, she found herself face-to-face with a room full of small humans and a couple of asari. Very small humans and asari. Tali smiled in wonder at the sight.

Keelah, they're so small!

Behind the glass lay two neat rows of twelve small hospital beds. Each one contained a miniature version of the full-size adults that she was far more familiar with. Tali watched with fascination as a couple of nurses worked in this maternity ward, flitting about and checking monitors. Her gaze lingered on their small faces, eyes closed but full of innocence. She felt hope as a smile crept upon her face.

We gave them this chance, didn't we? All of us. Mordin, Thane, EDI. Even Javik. She swallowed hard at the thought of her friends - especially EDI. Her death appeared to have been little more than a terrible side-effect. Tali was convinced that she had been meant to live, but that promise was stripped away from her like so many other things had been taken away from so many other people because of the damned war.

Returning her gaze to the nursery, she pressed a finger against the glass and ran it along the outline of a human baby.

This is what we fought for.

She wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a family of their own. She had no idea if she could even bear a child for her human bondmate. She gazed longingly at one of the human infants as it squirmed idly, its tiny thumb stuck close to its open mouth. Considering their difficulties with the quarian immune system, and that hers was a dextro-based species, the chances that Tali could even have a child with John were astronomically low.

Of course, so had been their chances against the Reapers.

But no amount of fighting would be able to overcome such a problem.

Tali sighed again, momentarily deflated.

Her omnitool blinked, indicating a new message. Nervously, she opened it, and then immediately began striding to the elevator.

Shepard was finally out of surgery and was being transferred to a private room.

After grabbing his ankle to make sure it was okay after his near fall, Shepard looked up and around to make sure that he wasn't out of his damn mind.

Yup. Definitely Rannoch.

But how…?

"Legion…"

The commander regarded the taller Geth mobile platform with a mixture of apprehension, happiness, and an incredible sense of guilt. He wasn't sure why, but the piece of N7 armor that it wore sent a cold shiver up his spine. Shepard wasn't sure how it got here - well, in total fairness, there was a hell of a lot that was rather confusing. Not only did he have no idea how he got to Rannoch, but he didn't remember how he arrived at the beach with Mordin, either.

Problematic.

Just what was going on? What was he doing here in these places with people that he felt shouldn't have been there? Maybe it was an opportunity. Here, at least, maybe Shepard could deliver an answer. Maybe…

Maybe I can receive…absolution.

"Shepard-Commander. We…I am…pleased to see you again."

The sound of Legion's modulated, synthesized voice somehow startled him. Closing his eyes and shaking his head dismissively, Shepard responded. "Legion, I should be happy to see you. But, I'm not sure that I can." He shook his head at his answer. "How can you be pleased to see me?"

"Why would I not be, Shepard-Comma…'Shepard'? Is that an appropriate manner by which I may reference you?" At the change in response, the commander noted the changes to the Geth's simulated facial expressions, and he was given an indication of genuine confusion.

Shepard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes, of course, Legion. In here," the Spectre turned his head to take in the resplendence of the Rannoch landscape, "I'm pretty sure that the title of 'Commander' carries very little weight." Even in the real world, it likely did no longer, as well. "As for me wondering how you can be pleased to see me…let's just say that it's because of what happened to you." Shepard looked down at his feet, still barefoot even here. He quickly amended his original assertion. "What happened to all of you. To all of your people, Legion."

The commander thought that he saw something of a twitch in the Geth's face. Well, at least in the facial "flaps" that the Geth had used to simulate such expressions. He heard the beating pulse in his ears. And something else.

"…are you okay? I know it's a lot to…"

Shepard's eyes widened, startled at the sound.

Legion did not appear to notice as it spoke to him.

"Shepard, what happened to us? This platform…I sacrificed its singular existence in order to grant sentience to all Geth. Was this endeavor not successful? Do the Geth still fight with the Creators? Is…Creator Tali'Zorah still functioning?"

Shepard bristled and bowed at the weight of the barrage of questions from Legion. How could he possibly answer these questions? How could he admit to him that his sacrifice was for nothing?

For absolutely nothing.

Nothing at all.

Worse yet? How could Legion accept any reasoning Shepard provided as anything other than his own selfish weakness?

I couldn't trust the Catalyst. It was artificial and sentient. How could I trust it? The only way was to destroy it. End it. Once and for all.

These were, of course, simple platitudes. Musings that he'd used to try to grant himself absolution. He'd believed none of it. Because in his heart of hearts, he knew that there had been another way. Even if he did believe it? Well, those beliefs appeared pretty damn flimsy when measured against the weight of genocide.

"…wouldn't have this chance if it wasn't for…"

Shepard again looked up with a start. What in the hell was this? Staring intently at Legion's singular eye, he tried to see any noticeable change in the Geth. He saw none. Shaking his head once again, he brought his hand to his temple, frowning.

Finally, Shepard responded to Legion's questions. Sort of.

"Legion, I'm going to answer your easy questions first. Yes, Tali'Zorah is alive, and I love her. As for the Morning War, as your creators called it - it is finished. Peace was achieved. But…" He did not - could not - continue any further. Instead, Shepard lowered his head into his hands.

I can't. I can't even tell him what I've done. How can I? I ended an entire race before it could begin.

The Geth appeared to begin to ask him a question, but stopped short of speaking. Instead, it reached its very quarian-like hand and touched Shepard's shoulder.

Then, it did speak a single word.

"Saera."