Kaidan got dressed in a numb haze, struggling to keep himself together by focusing on the task of getting ready to leave. He was taking things one moment at a time, concentrating on each step of his routine to distract himself. If he allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of his destination, he'd surely fall apart. So he blocked it all out as he buttoned up his black dress uniform, staring at his reflection in the mirror situated in his modest Citadel hotel room.

His stubble was dark and rough, stretching down his neck almost to his collar, but he didn't have it in himself to shave, or even to tame his unruly black hair. His skin was pale and had a sickly blue tinge in the fluorescent lighting above the bathroom sink. His eyes were an angry red, clashing with the rich amber hue of his irises. The circles under his eyes, a clear sign of the utterly sleepless nights he'd suffered through over the past few days, were made worse by the fact that one of them was blackened. It turned out that for all his brilliant calibrations and exacting capability as a sniper, Garrus was actually a pretty scrappy fighter up-close, even when unarmed. His right hook wasn't something Kaidan would soon forget, no matter how hard he tried. If the growing pile of empty whiskey bottles accumulating in the bedroom behind him were any indication, he was trying awfully hard.

Checking the time on his omni tool, Kaidan saw that he was still a little ahead of schedule, but he decided to leave anyway. The longer he stayed in the room alone, the more likely he was to start thinking, and that was dangerous. The last time he'd let his thoughts go there, he'd gotten soundly drunk and gotten into a bar fight with a batarian who'd made a snide comment abouther when the news vids on the bar monitors replayed the story—again. Drunk and completely overcome with grief and rage, Kaidan had lost it for the second time that week, his biotic power taking on a will of its own and destroying the bar, nearly killing several patrons and doing thousands of credits worth of damage. Without Anderson there to save his ass, he would have been in deep with C-Sec for that one. Thank God for Anderson.

But Anderson hadn't been there to hold him back when he'd lost control the first time that week—on the day that he struggled in vain to keep out of his thoughts. But every time he closed his eyes, the memory threatened to take over . . .


A distorted male voice crackled over the comms in the shuttle, startling Kaidan from his reverie.

"Normandy Shuttle SR1-7, do you copy? This is Captain Nathan Phipps."

"Copy. Boy, is it good to hear a friendly voice," Kaidan answered quickly. "Where are you?"

"Not far from your position. The conditions on Alchera in your projected landing zone are not favorable. We're going to try to intercept you instead. We got your distress beacon. I'm the captain of an Alliance Cruiser deployed to your location. Confirm that you can prepare to board. I'll patch you through to our XO for further instructions when you're ready."

"Roger that, Captain," Kaidan replied, putting his helmet back on and gesturing for Liara to join him at the shuttle controls.

An hour later, Kaidan sighed in relief as the last passenger from his shuttle removed her breather helmet and sat down, safe and sound inside the large Alliance ship. He looked eagerly to the doors leading out to the docking bay they'd recently come through, hoping to see Shepard and Joker soon. Most of the crew and all of Shepard's personal squad had escaped the Normandy before the blast that had finally taken it down, and Shepard's shuttle was the last to board the Cruiser.

He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, matted to his head by the helmet he'd been wearing moments ago. He wasn't injured, but the stress of the day had taken its toll and he felt fatigue tugging at him, urging him to sit down with the others who were comforting each other and taking stock of the survivors and the fallen.

He ignored his protesting muscles and joints and paced nervously back and forth in front of the doors, waiting to see her. He had never been as terrified as he'd felt when he'd thought Shepard had died in the explosion. He had seen her shuttle, though. He knew that she and Joker had made it out; but he would feel better when he could see her for himself. He couldn't wait to take her slender but sturdy form into his arms, inhale the familiar, rosy scent of her hair. He would scold her for her reckless, dangerous behavior, of course. But then he would kiss her—would grab her by the waist and feel her soft lips against his own, relish in the taste of her and kiss her like she deserved to be kissed, passionately and fiercely. He would do it in front of the rest of them if he had to, if only to assure himself that she was really alive. If only to remind her that he cared about her, damnit, and that she needed to be more careful!

He looked up when the doors hissed open to reveal Joker, limping through the doorway with the help of two of the Cruiser's crewmen. The doors slid shut behind them with an abruptness that stopped Kaidan short. "Where is she?" he asked urgently, looking at Joker entreatingly, struggling to keep the panic from his voice.

Joker met Kaidan's heated gaze for a short moment before he lowered his eyes to the ground. Confused, one of the crewman supporting Joker spoke up. "This pilot was the last person to be recovered, and the only passenger on the shuttle back there," he said, gesturing to the docking bay behind him with the hand that wasn't holding Joker up.

Kaidan reeled in shock, the gravity of what the crewman had just told him sinking in slowly, painfully. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think straight. Surely, there was some mistake. Shepard can't be gone, he thought, desperately. She always has a plan. She always saves everyone. She made it out. She definitely made it out.

Tali spoke up from behind him, her accent and environment suit obscuring her speech. Even still, the pain in her voice was evident. "What about Shepard?" she asked, stepping toward Joker hesitantly. "Liara told me that Shepard went back for you. She was with you, wasn't she?" Her voice broke on the last syllable, the plaintive sound rousing Joker. He finally looked up, clearing his throat and meeting not Tali's, but Kaidan's eyes. Kaidan tried to ignore the tears running down Joker's cheeks and glistening in his beard as he gathered the courage to speak.

"She, uh . . . Shepard didn't make it," he said, his voice almost a whisper. Kaidan barely registered the collection of gasps and cries behind him as the Normandy's crew took in the news, but he felt oddly numb. He still couldn't, wouldn't believe it. Shepard wouldn't abandon them. She was too smart, too resourceful to die in such a way. Her resilience and strength was part of what he loved about her. She was simply too important. Her light burned too brightly to be snuffed out without warning in some random attack.

"What do you mean, 'didn't make it?'" Garrus asked, his dual-toned voice carrying an edge of anger that Kaidan didn't often hear. Garrus stood quickly, the chair he'd pulled up to the table full of crewman clattering to its side behind him as he advanced toward Joker with long, deliberate steps. "Like Tali said, she went back for you. What. Happened?" He spoke slowly, menacingly, emphasizing the question.

Joker's self-control seemed to implode at that. Pushing away the two crewman supporting him, he stepped forward and struggled to stand on his own. He wobbled precariously, but looked up at Garrus defiantly. "What happened? What HAPPENED?! What do you think happened? She saved me, goddamnit. I was being an idiot and she saved me, like she ALWAYS does," he cried. "She got me into the shuttle, but that ship came around for another attack," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "She deployed the shuttle from the outside. I guess she knew that she wouldn't be able to make it in time, and that I wouldn't leave her myself. But I still saw it."

"Saw what?" Kaidan heard Liara ask in a small voice, surprising him. She was standing right next to him, but he hadn't even noticed that she'd gotten up from the table behind them.

"Saw her get fucking spaced, okay?" Joker finally broke down into sobs, falling to one knee. "Saw my best friend die."

Kaidan didn't think. The pain, the unfairness of it all, too severe—blocking out his thoughts, turning everything into white-hot agony. But he could still move. In two strides he was standing before Joker. He grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifting him to his feet in an easy motion, his rage lending him strength. His biotics hummed with pent-up energy, the blue haze glowing all around him. But it didn't cloud his vision. Through the salty tears and the pale, blue light he could clearly see the fear in Joker's eyes. With his free hand Kaidan punched him in the face with all of his strength, his body shivering with adrenaline as Joker's nose broke with a satisfying crunch. "IT'S. ALL. YOUR. FAULT," he roared, punctuating each word with another punch as he savagely landed blow after blow on Joker's bloody face.

Reaching back for another hit, he felt his arm restrained by the painful grip of Garrus' talons. "KAIDAN, STOP THIS!" he demanded, as one of the crewman pulled Joker out of Kaidan's grasp. Fury throbbed behind Kaidan's eyes. His blood thundered through his veins and he wrenched his arm free and wheeled on Garrus, unleashing a biotic Throw on the big turian. Caught unaware, Garrus toppled over and fell, his back hitting the floor with a loud thud. Panting with exertion and adrenaline, Kaidan turned back to Joker, who was holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose and looking at Kaidan with wide-eyed disbelief.

He closed the distance between them and prepared another biotic attack. "Kaidan, WAIT," Joker pleaded, scrambling backward from his seated position on the floor of the ship. Kaidan was dimly aware of Liara sobbing off to his right, begging him to stop, but he ignored her. Just as he focused his abilities on Joker's vulnerable form, Garrus danced into his view, ferocity contorting his features into an almost unrecognizable grimace. Fuck, Kaidan thought, violent anger boiling inside him. Before he could properly react, Garrus hit him in the face with a well-placed, powerful punch. Pain exploded around his left eye as he crumpled to the ground, its insistent throbbing the last thing he felt before losing consciousness.


Kaidan shook his head angrily, trying to dispel the thoughts he'd been so determinedly avoiding. Thinking back on his actions that day shamed him, but his shame was numbed by sharp and ever-present sadness. Yes, he regretted hurting Joker. After all, his inability to control himself was what had led him to kill Vyrnnus all those years ago, what had made him a threat in Rhana's eyes. Ever since then, he had built his life around control. The military had been perfect for that; its structure and regulation paired nicely with his own dedication to discipline and self-control. But Kaidan's calm and easygoing demeanor was the result of years of practice and hard work. He knew that he could easily snap into old extremes, and on the day he'd losther, his carefully constructed veneer of control had shattered. When he'd woken afterward in the medbay of the Cruiser, he'd refused medi-gel and treatment for his eye. He didn't deserve it after what he'd done—wanted to feel every ounce of the pain that was coming his way, so it might distract him from something even worse.

Shepard's death left a hole in his heart that he knew he could never fill. Losing her felt like losing part of himself. He had never loved anything or anyone the way he loved her. To think that she was gone, to think that he'd never look into her bright green eyes, never hear her musical laughter, never feel the electricity of his skin on hers, ever again, was more than he could handle. He was ashamed of his behavior that day, but his shame was eclipsed by the unbearable weight of his grief.

Kaidan didn't know pain like that existed. It had only been six days since he'd lost her, but it felt like an eternity. He kept reliving again and again their last moments together, kept remembering, with a dread that made him sick, that his last words to her had been, "Aye, aye." Shepard had died never having known how much he loved her, never knowing that he would trade places with her in a second, that she was the first thing he thought of in the morning and the last thing he thought of as he drifted off at night.

Now, in the trail of destruction she'd left in her wake, he hated himself with a malice that bordered on madness. He hated himself for obeying her order to evacuate, for leaving her there to fend for herself, for not grabbing her and dragging her into that shuttle behind him, for not seeing her to safety. He'd been a fool to blame Joker. Sure, the pilot had made the mistake of trying to stay aboard a sinking ship, but Kaidan knew that he was the real culprit. Knew that he'd looked the woman he loved in the eyes and had been too cowardly to tell her. He also knew that he'd been too afraid of her disapproval to ignore her orders, to step up and save her the one time she'd needed saving. The self-loathing and regret would plague him for the rest of his days.

He'd spent the past week in a booze-filled stupor, trying to block out thoughts of Shepard. The love of his life had been murdered by an unknown foe, had died, frightened and alone, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

No, he couldn't bring Shepard back. No one could. And he was only just then beginning to accept that she was really gone. Her body hadn't been recovered, so he had held out a few days in denial, clinging to the illusion that she could have survived somehow. But Anderson had talked some sense into him the day before. "She's gone, son," he said gently, laying a hand tentatively on Kaidan's shoulder, as if he were afraid the young marine might snap again at any moment. Anderson had asked him to do perhaps the one honorable thing left to him after all of the mistakes he'd made—to speak at Shepard's memorial. At first, he'd refused. He felt sure he couldn't keep it together long enough to give Shepard the tribute she deserved, felt sure he'd break down as soon as he started thinking about her. Even worse, he didn't think he could face his friends after what he'd done over Alchera.

But he'd caved and agreed when Anderson had reminded him that it was what Shepard would have wanted. Kaidan was her closest confidant, the one person she always chose to bring along for every mission. Their affection for one another had been plain to see, he realized, and there was no one who cared for her more deeply than he did. He was the obvious choice to speak at her service, and he'd spent the whole night writing and rewriting what he wanted to say.

He turned a corner and climbed some steps up to the Presidium commons, feeling for his speech in the pocket of his slacks. He ran his fingers over the creased and wrinkled paper to reassure himself that he'd brought it along. Shepard's memorial was being held on a viewing deck that overlooked the lakes and greenery, a beautiful spot. Still, a memorial . . . the thought made him queasy. How could his favorite person, the bravest, smartest, most compassionate woman he'd ever known, be reduced to a memory?

With a nervous sigh, he fell into line with the other mourners. He spotted Tali and Liara, dressed in black, already seated in places of honor up on a dais, their chairs situated near a podium. The defeated look on Liara's tear-stained face echoed Kaidan's own pain, and he blinked back fresh tears of his own, hoping desperately that he could make amends with the friends he'd hurt, and exercise self-control long enough to deliver a speech worthy of Shepard's memory.

Taking a deep breath, he mounted the steps to join them.