Chapter 18: Worth Fighting For

We had feared you would not awaken, Sings-of-Endings.

Pain flashed through Shepard's head when he sat up and a wave of dizziness nearly overtook him. Before he could fall backwards he felt something cool and smooth against his back supporting him and quickly realized it was the queen herself. He groaned and when he spoke his voice was dry and raspy.

"I almost didn't. It just felt like I wanted to sleep and then... I heard a song. And the longer I listened the more I remembered. The things I'd done. Promises that I had made."

The glowing eyes nodded, a rather good imitation of the human gesture that made him wonder if the queen had picked it up from his mind.

Too many dissonant songs in your mind. Too much pain. We sang to you as we would a hatchling, memory-songs to give light in the darkness.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

For the moment Shepard sat in darkness and tried to gather his thoughts, taking stock of his situation. His head was pounding but it wasn't the same feeling that had become all too commonplace in the past days. The ever-present pressure behind his eyes had been replaced by the dull throb of a skull that had taken too much of a beating. Roughly at the time he reached up to touch the tender spot on the back of his head he realized that his armor was gone, or most of it at least. From the waist up only the torn remnants of his undersuit remained.

"What happened?" Shepard asked. "The last thing I remember..."

The memory flashed back in a rush. A deafening roar as the fire tore through the ranks of the corrupted rachni. The blast lifting him from his feet. And the sensation of weightlessness. Even the sense of peace as he finally let go.

Memory-song is true. You fell and we heard your song. You sung many notes. Anger. Defiance. Despair. Fear. You sought to end your song to deny the will of the dark-song destroyers.

He nodded. "Yes. I've seen what happens to those that the Reapers corrupt. I... I won't let them use me like that. If the choice is living long enough to become the monster or dying here... I'd rather my death have some meaning."

Yes, we heard all these notes. But your undersong also sang of will and power. We could not let your song fall into silence. We caught you and brought you here, deep and safe. We sang to you, but it is your will that returned your mind to this world. Our song was always the path.

"Did your song... do something to me? I don't hear the voices. The whispers."

The sour yellow notes?

"Yes. The sour yellow notes."

The queen's melody in his mind took on a regretful tone.

Our song drives them away, but we can only shield you from their dissonant tones while we touch your mind. If we were to try to meld your undersong with our own as we would our children it would destroy you. Our minds are too different.

He sighed and covered his face with his hands, ignoring the dirt and soot he felt coating them.

"My mind reminded me of the promises that I've made. But I can't keep them... not if it means I'll just fall under their sway the moment we're apart."

Your song is not one of surrender, even when it is about to be silenced you attempt to strike back, Sings-of-Endings.

"I don't even know what that means... Sings-of-Endings? Wasn't that what I was trying to accomplish? An end to all of this?" Shepard growled in frustration. "I spent months fighting the things that lived in my head. Wondering if I was going insane. It took everything I had just to realize what was happening in my own mind."

As we sang to Devotion-Singer, all things must end. Some through chance or circumstance. Others are inexorable, only ending with the passage of time. Cycles of behavior, evolution, instinct. But there are those few who exert their will on the undersong of the universe. Those who through force of will can change the destiny of things to come.

In the darkness the queen shifted, her armored appendage leaving him gently as she shifted and watched him with her glowing blue eyes. The eyes and her song seemed to bore into him with every moment that she continued.

You are Sings-of-Endings. Your song since your hatching has been one of determination and strife, born of a queen of battle and a brood-father who would fall fighting against insurmountable odds. Within you burns the memory-song of the same defiance.

"What does that have to do with 'endings'?" he demanded.

With endings come change. The choices that you have made would break patterns long established. You are a taker of life songs, but a defender of your hive. You stand against the oppression of Devotion-Singer's people and seek to end the cycle of hatred between her kind and the cold-song singers they created. Your bond with Sings-Loyalty is stronger than those of brood and blood despite the war between your species. And when the dark-song destroyers demanded your submission your song only grew louder with defiance. You would bring about the end of all and let that which is new flourish unhindered by the shackles of the past.

Shepard's first instinct was to tell the queen that she was wrong. He was a soldier. A sniper, a killer. A broken tool that had long outlived its usefulness. Matching gazes with the rachni, though, he couldn't give voice to his objections. There was unshakeable belief behind her lilting words. It spoke to him not just of what she believed, but of what was needed. He took a deep breath.

"That's a difficult title to live up to."

You must defeat the poison in your own song before you can stand against those who would continue the cycle.

"I don't know how."

You must listen. And you must fight.

Shepard's dry lips cracked when he smiled, but he ignored the pain that traced every muscled of his body.

"Fighting I can do."


Garrus tried very hard not to flinch when Tali followed him into the airlock. He had surprisingly managed to convince Kasumi that he should meet the Council alone with only minimal argument. It had immediately made his cop instincts trigger, but after the last few days he decided it was better not to press the issue. Instead the thief had decided to help Jack get the students settled in somewhere aboard the Citadel.

The silence seemed to grow thicker with each passing moment. Tali shifted her weight from side to side, but didn't speak. Finally he sighed and turned to face her.

"No audio pick ups in here, Tali... just say it. I'll understand," he said quietly and spread his arms, palms up. "Hit me. Scream at me. I won't stop you. Spirits know I deserve it."

As expected the quarian threw herself forward, but the anger Garrus had expected didn't follow. Instead he suddenly found her arms wrapped around his waist and her visor against his armored chest. He felt her shake and put his arms around her shoulders. The simple embrace was possibly the one gesture that translated across every species boundary.

"Big blue bosh'tet."

Over her head his mandibles quirked into a rueful smile. "That's me... dammit, Tali, I'm sorry. But I couldn't let you go after him. He wouldn't have wanted that."

"K-Kasumi told me," she managed. "I spent all night wanting to hate you. And then hating Shepard. And then hating myself for not seeing. If I had just figured it out... I could have... have..."

"Don't go there," Garrus warned, cutting her off. "I know all about hating yourself. It makes you think crazy thoughts, it chews you up inside until you can't think of anything else and if you let it the hate takes over everything."

"Sidonis?"

He nodded and hugged the quarian tightly before placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her back.

"Shepard kept me from making a decision I'd regret. Take it from the voice of experience... don't make the same mistake."

"I don't know what else to do. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen," Tali replied, looking away, her voice sounding hollow. "I just sat in his quarters and looked at everything that he left behind. But there's so little... a few clothes, some model ships. A datapad. He did so much. It feels like there should be more."

"He never seemed to care about things all that much."

He squeezed the young engineer's shoulders gently.

"I can't tell you what to do, Tali. But I'll keep my promise to fulfill Shepard's mission. That includes giving your people back their home."

Tali's head snapped up at that statement. "Garrus..."

"Once the politics are out of the way I'm going to request that the Council provide us with whatever resources Legion needs to make his plan work," he stated firmly.

"We both know the Council has never given a damn about my people. Shepard... John was the only one that ever wanted to help. He didn't just help me. Every time he saw someone mistreating a quarian he stepped in. He stopped it. I'm not going to expect you to do the same."

The turian frowned. He knew the tone in her voice. It sounded like someone who had given up. It was the same tone he heard often in his days with C-Sec, from the drunken patrons he escorted out of bars after a long night of trying to drown their sorrows to the victims of the worst crimes that he'd born witness to on the Citadel. Far too many times he had seen those same people again when the medical team had called him to the scene of a suicide.

He would be damned before he let Tali follow that path. As far as he was concerned she was his responsibility now. Shepard had loved her. He and Shepard had bled together in battle. Friends and brothers, by the fallen Spectre's own admission. By his logic that made Tali as much family as his own sister Solana. Garrus gripped her shoulders firmly and gave the woman a shake.

"That's enough of that."

"Enough of what?" she asked, voice irritated. "I'm not going to fool myself, Garrus..."

"You're not fooling yourself. It's going to happen. And you're going to help me."

Garrus reached over and slapped the airlock release button. The cycle had long since finished. Bodily shifting the quarian around he pushed her ahead of him out the airlock and onto the docks.

"I... I just want to stay on the ship," Tali protested.

"If you do that, then you'll just sit alone thinking of what you should or could have done to change things. No matter how many times you go over it in your head it'll never get easier, you'll just obsess over it more and more until it's the only thing that you can think about. You're coming with me to see the Council. Let them see the people that were with him from the beginning."

As expected the engineer balked, rolling her shoulders out of his grip and backing towards the Normandy. She turned away and reached for the door controls.

"I can't, Garrus... I just... I can't."

"You're coming," he repeated in a firmer tone. "That's an order from your captain."

Her reaction was immediate. The engineer whirled on him, silvery eyes flashing behind her visor while he carefully kept his own face a tightly controlled mask. Garrus knew that his words would be like needles prodding an open wound and he regretted every one of them, but not enough to let Tali draw back into herself. He was afraid that if he did she'd never come out again.

"Don't you dare!"

"Dare what?" Garrus asked, stepping forward and crossing his arms. "Shepard passed on command to me. That makes me the Normandy's commanding officer. Your captain."

Tali's fingers balled into fists. "Stop saying that!"

"I'm your commanding officer now. I learned a few things about quarians in the past three years, Tali. When you serve on a ship the captain's word is law. Even for an admiral. So what orders do you have that supercede mine?" he demanded.

"I... because... you're not... not my hesh'la..." she stammered, voice fading into that wavering tone once more.

"No, but I am your hesh'alan now."

Her own language from turian lips was once again enough to yank her attention back to the present. Garrus smiled gently and shrugged.

"What, you think in all this time I would never have looked that word up? Aethyta made sure that I heard it back on Illium. I was a detective for quite a few years; curiosity was part of the job description," he explained and reached out to place a hand on Tali's arm. "I can't be him, Tali. But I can try to do what he would have wanted. That's the best that we can all do. And do you think he would have wanted you to sitting alone? Giving up?"

Silence again, but finally Tali sighed and shook her head.

"No."

"Then help me finish what he set out to do. Don't let them win," Garrus asked fervently. "Things might not have mattered to Shepard, but people did. Your people. You."

At last Tali's head came up. Her voice still cracked but her posture straightened and she nodded, meeting his eyes.

"How do we do it?"

"How else? We fight for it."


"Before we do this I have a question," Shepard said.

Now that he was fully awake Hope-Singer had led him into another connected cave. How far down they were the Spectre wasn't certain of, but he suspected it was far from the chill in the damp air. It hadn't been easy to navigate the uneven floor in the almost complete darkness but before long they had found more of the same glowing lichen that he had seen before. The cave they were in now wasn't exactly well lit, but at least the pale glow was enough for him to see by.

What do you wish to know?

He spread his arms and gestured at himself.

"Where the hell is my armor?"

The queen's mental song took on brighter colors in his mind, a flash of blues and greens. He realized it was amusement.

Your outer carapace was damaged by fire and many pieces of shrapnel. We removed the upper portion. Our warriors molt damaged carapaces.

"I'm not even going to ask how," he muttered before taking a seat on a nearby rock. "At least I woke up wearing pants."

We sing apology-songs, but were unable to preserve your other tools.

At the rachni's gesture at his person Shepard looked down and noticed that his pistol was still at his hip. The next time someone made a comment about how a polymer holster was old fashioned in an era of magnetic attachments he was certainly going to have a compelling counter argument. He reached down and ran his thumb along the grip, feeling each notch. It reminded him of how far he'd come and how far he had left to go.

"It doesn't matter now, I'm just glad to see the most important one stuck with me," Shepard said. "Now I need to know how we're supposed to do this. You said you can't... touch my mind the same way you would another rachni."

We cannot. Even if it succeeded in driving out the sour-yellow notes you would not be the same as you were. Your song is strong enough to survive but it would forever become part of us. You would be rachni.

He frowned. "Yea, as much as I appreciate everything... I'd rather not join a hive mind. No offense, but the idea of everyone hearing what I'm thinking and vice versa is a little bizarre."

It is understandable. We find the individual minds of other species to be equally strange. When we first heard the songs of the scientists on the frozen planet we did not understand how there could be so many songs with different notes in a single place. Among our kind so many different songs would cause chaos.

"It causes chaos among us too, but it's how we like it. If I didn't know any better, though, I'd think that you were stalling."

The queen shifted and settled her massive body on the cave floor so that her head was on level with his own.

We merely wished to give you time to prepare. While we cannot meld our song with your own to cleanse you of the sour notes as we would one of our children... your kind does not see into their memory-songs as our people do. Our song might allow us to lead you to places within where you can face the discordant notes.

"You mean how your song made me see the past?" he asked.

Yes. You cannot escape the dark-song destroyers corrupting song because of the devices within you. They help you live, but they also connect you to something beyond yourself. To be free of the dark-song destroyers call you must drive them from your self. Undersong and oversong must sing in harmony. When they do the sour-yellow notes cannot stand against such purity.

"I think I understand."

We cannot know what will come to pass, Sings-of-Endings. If the notes cannot be made to sing in harmony then your entire melody could unravel. Your song could fall into silence forever.

"My song could have ended a thousand times before now. It did already once, and almost again now. If that's the risk I have to take to know that my mind, my body, and my soul are purely mine again? Then let's do it."

There was silence in the cave for a second while the queen watched him as if weighing his words. If it was his determination that she sought to gauge it was apparently to her satisfaction.

Calm your mind and listen to our song...


Councilor Tevos bowed her head at the turian standing before her.

"Words cannot express the regret we felt when we received your message. We owed Commander Shepard a great debt for his service to this Council and to the galaxy as a whole."

It took every ounce of self control left to her for Tali not to cause a scene. She held bitter questions behind her lips. If the Council owed Shepard so much why had they turned their back on him at every opportunity? Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. Three years ago they could have believed the man that had saved all their lives. If they had then maybe the galaxy would have been ready for the Reapers. Maybe Shepard would still be alive.

"You owe him everything!" Garrus snapped, jabbing a finger at the trio. "Because of Shepard there's a galaxy left to fight for. Spare me your platitudes, Councilor. Those of us that stood by his side through it all will remember him for what he was, not what your political designs need him to be."

She looked at Garrus in gratitude. At least he wasn't willing to let the Council off without some acknowledgement of the part they had played in all of this.

"We understand your anger," Velarn said. "The loss of a friend and a comrade is never easy-"

"Enough."

Tali blinked behind her visor when she realized it wasn't Garrus' flanged voice that had cut off the salarian, but that of Sparatus. Ever since Shepard's appointment as a Spectre the turian representative had been his harshest detractor, always questioning every decision and the first to deny the existence of the Reapers.

The turian Councilor's gaze turned to his counterparts. "The man died doing his duty. Those that served under him deserve more than hollow words and speeches. I doubt highly that Vakarian cares for you sympathy or your opinion."

"For the first time in three years we agree," Garrus said wryly.

"Despite what you may think of me I am a turian first and a politician second," Sparatus replied. "I know why you're here and what you want. Not trusting Shepard nearly cost us the galaxy once already, I do not intend to make the same mistake again. Whatever our differences if he believed that you were worthy to succeed him... then you have my vote of confidence. Councilors?"

Velarn and Tevos both looked at each other, clearly more than a little taken aback at the turian's sudden shift in opinion, but finally nodded.

"Garrus Vakarian, please step forward," Tevos requested.

The former vigilante took a single step closer and clasped his arms behind his back. It was an image that made Tali's throat tighten. Once, during those all too few quiet moments when they'd been able to lay in each others arms, Shepard had told her that he looked forward to the day that he could stand by and watch as the Council granted Garrus status as a Spectre. He had always known that Garrus possessed those intrinsic qualities that it took to become one of the elite few.

Sparatus placed his hand on the nearby console for authorization, his gaze clearly locked with that of his fellow turian.

"It is the decision of this Council that you be granted all of the rights and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. It is said that Spectres are born, not trained, but you prove both are true..."

"To be made a Spectre was once considered an honor but now burden that we place upon you is great and the price of failure is far too high to imagine," the asari councilor added.

"Spectre Vakarian, we cannot pledge the resources of our own governments. We are merely representatives," Velarn concluded, spreading his hands. "But the resources of this Council are at your disposal."

She was certain that Garrus was surprised by the sudden change in tone from the Council, but he didn't show it.

"There are supplies, advanced electronics among other things, that we'll need as part of the mission to free the geth from Reaper control," he stated simply. "We're also going to need a resupply for the Normandy. Where the hell is Udina, anyway? I expected him here to be a pain in the ass."

Tevos sighed.

"Councilor Udina has been busy attempting to coordinate relief efforts for the Alliance colonies. C-Sec will assist you in requisitioning any items that you require. May the goddess watch over you."

It was over almost before she realized it. The Council filed out of the room and left she and Garrus standing in silence. With a few words the task of saving a galaxy had been passed down from one man to another. The brevity had made it seem almost common place but it didn't take much for the young quarian to realize the truth: the Council was afraid. For centuries little had changed in the galaxy, now there was chance that they could lose it all.

"I thought I'd feel different," Garrus said suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"I've dreamed of becoming a Spectre ever since the first day I was selected for the training," the turian explained, looking out the window at the expansive view of the presidium. "Even after my father convinced me not to accept and I joined C-Sec the thought was always there. Shepard told me that I could do it, practically ordered me to go for it after we took down Saren."

"He was right," she said.

The turian sighed. "Maybe. But this... this was never how I wanted to become a Spectre."

Tali didn't know what to say. She had no comfort to offer. Garrus' words outside the Normandy had been enough to make her see that she still had a duty, not just to the Fleet and her people, but to Shepard. Ever since he had saved her so long ago in the Citadel's back alleyways, he had given her so much. To surrender to the pain she felt now would feel like a betrayal. So she used that new-found strength to tuck the pain away, deep in the dark corner of her soul.

Two years before she had watched the Normandy die over Alchera and Shepard had died with it. With the passage of time the fiery pain of his loss had become a dull ache that promised to fade almost completely with time. When she had told Kasumi that she wasn't sure if she could manage to go through the same pain again it hadn't been an exaggeration. Now she realized that she had to take one final lesson from Shepard and use the pain. When all else failed, it would still be there to drive her.

"Shepard would still have been proud," Tali said, managing to get the entire sentence out without her voice cracking. A small step.

He smiled at her sadly.

"I'm sure he would have given me hell about how I'd be bored now without any rules to break."

"I think he knew you well enough to know that you'd always find new ones."

"That he did. Let's head to the Presidium," Garrus agreed and gestured towards the door. "There's a decent bar there and before we start trying to live up to Shepard's legacy I think we both could use a drink."


"Where the hell am I?" he asks.

From every direction he can hear music, an unseen orchestra.

"We are within. The place where your song flows from."

Shepard looks around. Plain gray bulkheads and a small room, barely bigger than a closet. Memory washes over him. A tiny room on the Einstein, his mother's posting for four years, probably the longest he'd ever spent in a single place. Its decks were filled with memories both pleasant and painful. The tiny room had been his gift as a young teen. Space of his own, however small, was rare on a ship.

"I don't understand."

To his right the air becomes hazy and a swirling mass of light manifests. From within he hears the same song, louder now, and he remembers. The Reapers. Indoctrination. Sour-yellow notes.

"Yes," the queen says. "Now you see. Here is where your song lives and so to the dissonant notes of the dark-song destroyers. It is the center of your being, where all things past, present, and future remain."

He looks down and sees that he's wearing his old armor. Black and red, N7 logo emblazoned on his chest.

"Why here, though?"

"This is not where you were hatched, but it is where your song began to change. You were no longer a gray note among the many. You became Sings-of-Endings."

Everything melts away as he watches and he suddenly is watching through the eyes of his much younger self running through corridors. Red lights flash over head, battle stations, and people are yelling. Soon they're looking out at the main hangar deck as shuttles come and go. His mother stares at him, grabbing his arm.

"You shouldn't be here, John! You were supposed to stay in your quarters!"

Another shuttle makes a shaky landing only a few dozen meters away and the doors open, two marines jump out and begin screaming for a medic. He watches as others rush to help them and start pulling out civilians. Their clothes are stained in blood and many are barely conscious. Others look far less hurt but something in their eyes tells a different story. A woman flinches away from a marine's helping hand and cuts off a scream. Another man struggles against the soldiers. He screams for his family before a medic finally applies a sedative and he goes limp.

"I.. I wanted to help. What happened? Why is everyone hurt?"

His mother frowns. "The batarians attacked Mindoir, John. Our men tried to save the colonists but we weren't fast enough. Good marines died and... most of the colonists were killed."

"Marines? What about dad?" he asks immediately.

"He's fine. His unit is trying to help the survivors. Please, go back to your quarters... you don't need to see this. That's an order young man."

Shepard never questions his mother when he hears the steel in her voice, but it doesn't mean he always does as he's told. Hannah Shepard turns to help a young lieutenant and he slips away. He's almost fourteen now, he knows first aid and he can help. He knows he can. The soldiers look at him oddly, but there just aren't enough hands, so they don't ask his age.

Memory flashes forward again, leaps and jumps of seconds, then minutes. No longer looking through his own eyes but observing as if from a distance. A marine with a chest wound lays on a stretcher, a medic is telling him to push down on the wound as hard as he can. Red blood seeps through his fingers and the marine mumbles incoherently. Begging for someone with a name he can't make out. The medic curses. The marine stops moving.

Blood is still on his hands when he tries to help unload another shuttle. It is all mechanical now, do what the nearest soldier says. Pressure here. Carry this. Move that. The doors of the shuttle swing wide and panicked civilians practically fall out as marines try to maintain order. A little girl is sent sprawling and she begins to sob. He helps her to her feet only to have her tiny arms wrap around him in a vice like grip. She doesn't see the blood, doesn't seem to see anything. She just cries and asks for her father.

An hour passes and his mother finds him there, sitting next to the shuttle. The girl is silent now, asleep, but he doesn't know what to do with her. In a wave everything that he's seen hits him and he fights back tears of his own as his month kneels next to him.

"I told you to go back to your room, John... dammit," she says, but there's no anger in her voice, just sadness. "You're too young. You should have gotten to be innocent longer."

She sits down next to him and wraps an arm around him, just as he's holding the girl from the shuttle. He still resists the urge to cry and does his best to ignore the blood staining his hands, but a few tears trickle down his face.

"Why?"

"Why did the batarians attack? We don't know for sure," his mother says gently. "Maybe they were afraid because we're expanding so fast. They wanted to teach us a lesson. Or maybe they're slavers and murderers."

"No. Why didn't someone stop them?"

"Because the colony wasn't well defended. And by the time we got here it was... too late."

"Won't we attack them back?"

The sigh he hears is a tired one. Hannah Shepard was always straightforward with her only son. She didn't shield him from the truth even if she clearly wishes that this one could have waited.

"Probably so... but it's a big galaxy. Filled with politics and agendas. Sometimes it's hard to punish the monsters for the things they've done. They attack us, we attack them... the cycle keeps going. But that's not something you need to worry about, John. Why don't you bring that girl to the infirmary so we can get you both cleaned up?"

He shakes his head and finally looks up, meeting his mother's eyes.

"One day I'll be strong enough. I'll stop the monsters before they can hurt anyone ever again."


A pair of drinks were placed on the bar in front of them. One in a glass, the other a sterile tube. For the entire trip to the Presidium, Tali had remained quiet, but her body language didn't convey the same defeated posture Garrus had seen before - so he'd let it go. Spirits knew they all had their own pain to deal with. Any other time he'd have just ordered a bottle of the brandy and forgot the next few hours of his life. That wasn't a refuge he could see solace in anymore, though. He had a duty.

"On the house."

Garrus' head snapped up at the statement, both because he was always leery of free drinks and because the voice was familiar. The asari behind the bar definitely was one he'd seen before and a second later his tired mind made the connection.

"Matriarch Aethyta?"

"Aethyta?" Tali echoed, looking up herself now.

"Know any other matriarchs that tend bar?" the asari asked with a smile.

He managed a half smile. "Point taken. I'm glad to see you made it off Ilium before the Reapers attacked."

"Just barely. Made it here but nowhere else to go now," Aethyta said with a shrug.

"Did... Quin'Sala make it as well?" Tali asked hesitantly.

By way of answer the asari yelled at the other end of the bar. "Quiny!"

"What is it you old blue bosh'tet?" a voice demanded, clearly filtered through the vocabulator of an environment suit. "I've almost got this thing working again!"

"Stop disrespecting your elders and get out of the guts of that terminal!"

There were a few more curses that his translation program couldn't make sense of before a visored head popped up over the bar. Her disposition changed immediately upon seeing Tali and Garrus.

"It's you! Sorry for... what I said. That must have sounded very rude."

"Don't apologize now, girl. I'm just now getting you trained on how to properly give back talk," Aethyta admonished. "Takes all the impact out of it when you just up and apologize."

"I see you've been molding her in your image," Garrus stated dryly.

The matriarch shrugged.

"Girl has to learn sometime. You quarians are all so damn polite on account of getting kicked around. No one is going to respect a barkeep that can't tell them where to stick it."

Tali was clearly ignoring the back and forth, addressing Quin'Sala. "You didn't return to the Fleet when the call went out?"

"No. I know that the message said that all Pilgrimages were canceled and no gifts were needed to return to a ship but... Aethyta has been so kind to me and there was so much work to be done. I thought I could wait a few weeks at least," the other quarian explained. "And then... the Reapers came."

"It worked out for the best. I don't know where your people have been but the only reason we got a shuttle off Ilium was because of Quiny here hacked some rich bitch's private one," the matriarch added, then gave her two patrons a stern look. "Drink up. You both look like you need it."

"Thanks. It's... been a difficult few days."

As Garrus reached for his drink the asari woman produced a bottle from beneath the bar and poured herself a glass of something that was deep purple in color. The look on her face when she picked up the glass and raised it in his direction was far softer than he remembered from the previous encounter on Illium when she spoke.

"To the departed. As my father would say, all great warriors die, but the greatest live on through their actions."

The toast nearly made him drop his brandy, but he maintained his composure and lightly touched his glass against the asari's, watching Tali warily do the same. He considered asking what she was talking about but the weight of her gaze made it clear that somehow she knew. The turian was certain that the Council's instructions had stated that they wouldn't be making the announcement until later in the afternoon.

"How did you know?" Tali demanded heatedly.

"Because I told her."

He turned in his seat to see Liara standing behind them, hands clasped in front of her.

"Liara? Why..."

The younger asari flicked a glance to the matriarch before addressing him.

"Because Matriarch Aethyta is my... second-mother. My father in your terms. I've known for some time. In my position it was impossible not to, but I never made contact nor had any desire to. After what happened... I decided that even if I'd never known her, she at least had the right to know I was alive. In the end I told her what had happened rather than lie when she asked about Shepard. I don't think he would have wanted his death covered up."

"It won't be," Garrus promised. "The Council will be making a formal announcement in a few hours. No more lies."

No more lies other than the lies of omission that the newly minted Spectre had perpetuated by not mentioning Shepard's mental state or his tacit admission that he was at risk of falling under the Reaper's sway.

"I'm sorry, Liara," Tali apologized quietly, causing him to cast a sidelong glance at her.

"For what?"

"After everything that's happened I should have come to see you," the quarian said. "I know that you... you loved him too. The original crew, we all should stick together. We're the ones that have to make sure that... that..."

The information broker smiled but there was a hint of tears in her eyes as Tali trailed off. She reached out and placed a hand over the quarian's three digits.

"It's alright, Tali. I understand. I spent some time with Doctor Chakwas... we... remembered the good times."

Garrus bowed his head for a moment. The good times. He would give anything to have those times back, when it was just Shepard's ragtag crew hunting down a crazy Spectre. Geth and pirates were their greatest danger and the Reapers were only a vague, looming threat. The best times.


"I remember, but how is this going to help me?"

Hope-singer's voice is patient.

"Your memory-song reminds you of who you were and who you are. The basis of your choices. It gives you strength."

"Now what?"

"You must face the darkness. We can no longer aid you. This song is your own, you must master it. Descend into darkness or climb to the light. That is your true choice, Sings-of-Endings."

Shepard is back in his old room, standing at the door. The queen's music fades away and leaves him alone. Silence reigns. Not even the barely noticeable hum of the engines or the breathy hiss of the air recyclers can be heard. He presses the door control.

A wave of heat washes over him. The corridor outside is filled with smoke and sputtering fires as he steps out into it. Sparks shower down from shattered overhead lights. Only the flashing red emergency lights render the scene visible.

"What in the hell is this?"

"I think this is what passes for your soul, human... a sad state."

At the end of the hall he can just make out the outline of a turian, but the voice is unmistakable.

"Saren," he growls.

"We both knew we'd meet again," the fallen Spectre says with a laugh. "You know where to find me when you're ready to end this charade, Shepard. It's just you now. All alone... I wonder if you've ever had what it takes."

Before he can charge forward Saren steps back into the haze and disappears. Even when he runs ahead to catch up he finds nothing, just more ruined corridors and smoke. He can hear an inhuman cry echo from somewhere else in the ship. Half scream, half roar.

He tries to remember the deck plan of the carrier, its maze of numbered bulkheads and levels that only follow the scantest rules of logic in their layout. Shepard simply runs, pushing himself up stairs and down ruined halls. Sometimes behind him he hears another roar, other times he swears it's the sound of booted feet, but whenever he looks there's nothing.

Another blind turn and Shepard nearly trips of his own feet. It should be a mess hall that he's moving through, but there's dirt and grass. Irregular stones jutting from the ground. The deckplating trembles beneath his feet. He knows that feeling. The way the ground almost seems to shift under him.

"Fuck this... not this place," he hisses.

A cry of pain catches his attention and he moves on instinct towards it before his breath catches in his throat.

"Johnny..."

Laying against the wall is a young marine. Her armor is nothing more than melted polymer and metal but he doesn't need to see her badge to know her name. That shock of fiery red hair that sticks out from beneath her helmet says it all. He falls to his knees next to her, pulling the helmet off gently.

"Ally?"

"There's my space rat," she gasps out. Her normally bright white teeth are stained crimson and he doesn't bother to move the hand that she clasps across her stomach.

"I don't understand... why are you here? What is this?"

"Aw, come on, Johnny... you were... uhh... you were always smart. Sure you can figure it out."

"This isn't a memory. This never happened," he says firmly. "I saw... saw you. When the Maw came down... I saw you disappear. I couldn't even go to you..."

The woman's other hand comes up and grips his arm. "I know. How many times did you dream that same dream, huh, Johnny?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does," she counters, shaking her head. "They almost... flunked you on those exercises in basic... because you wouldn't, ah, leave anyone behind. Made the... sarge mad as hell when you did it... did it anyways."

An involuntary smile creeps to his face for a moment. "I carried you out of that base on my back. You bitched the entire way about how undignified it was."

"Still think you-" she pauses and coughs before continuing. "Think you did it to cop a feel. Started you on... career of rescuing damsels, though, huh? Saved that girl and her pretty purple veil. Saved little miss archaeologist... you've done a lot of saving. But all you ever remember are the ones you didn't."

He winces.

"I couldn't save you... all I could do was run..."

"Do you think I would... would have blamed you, Johnny? All these... years?"

Shepard drops his head and shakes it slowly. "No, Ally. You were the one that always got mad and forgave everyone ten minutes later."

"That's right," she replies, shifting in place and trying to stifle a cry of pain. Blood pooled everywhere but he didn't notice.

"You're telling me to let go."

"You already moved on. Rescued a damsel and she returned the favor. But I know you still... ah... blame yourself... blame yourself for everything. You can't do it alone, Johnny. That turian... he told you that you're alone... but you're not. We'll always be here..."

The light in the marine's eyes fades away and the hand in his goes limp. He reaches up to her neck and removes her tags, looking at them in the palm of his hand. Alannah McGrath. Private, First Class.

"Time to get up off your knees, Commander."

Shepard looks up from his position on his knees into smiling face. Dark brown hair and tanned skin, eyes that had seen more than his years.

"Alenko?"

"She's right, you know, you're never alone. We followed you knowing the risks because we had faith. We knew that no matter what happened you would make sure that it counted for something."

"It only counts for something if we can stop the Reapers, Kaidan," he says.

The younger man gives another easy smile and extends his hand to pull Shepard up. "Then it sounds like to me the mission isn't over, sir."

He grips Kaidan's wrist tightly.

"No, it's not."


Even as fresh as the wounds were, Tali had found it good to talk. Aethyta should have been a stranger; she had barely known them all for more than a few hours, but there was something about the way she spoke that made it feel natural to speak with her. Maybe it was centuries of wisdom learned as an asari matriarch. Or maybe it was simply just the knack of a plainly-spoken bartender.

A few hours later they were sitting at one of the back tables of the small bar that Aethyta was apparently in charge of. More than a few stories had been exchanged, many detailing their exploits on the original Normandy. Aethyta seemed to be amused by it all while Quin'Sala listened with rapt attention.

Sometime while they were speaking Kasumi had appeared to report that Jack, Kahlee Sanders, and her students had been provided for by the Alliance embassy. How long she had actually been listening unseen Tali didn't know, but now she simply sat sipping at a drink that Aethyta had provided with the promise of a 'taste of home'. The artificial sun was beginning to set on the Presidium as the station began to shift gradually into its night cycle.

Silence had fallen when the announcement had come. The numerous vid screens that adorned the walls of the bar had all changed to the same news broadcast, overriding even the advertising screens. They all knew what it was but It had been a surprise to see the woman reporting was none other than Emily Wong.

"Good evening. This is Emily Wong reporting for the Citadel News Service. I come to you this evening with important news regarding what has come to be called the Reaper War."

All around Tali had seen people stop. The Citadel had been a bastion of normalcy in the face of the war, as yet untouched. The sudden news broadcast easily grabbed the attention of those passing by.

"Just a few minutes ago we received information directly from the Citadel Council. It is with great sadness that I tell you that Commander John Shepard has been reported as killed in action. We have no details as to what has happened at this time, but Councilor Tevos said, quote, 'Commander Shepard died defending the lives and freedoms of all sentient species against the greatest threat that this Council or this galaxy has ever faced. His sacrifice will never be forgotten'."

The quarian closed her eyes, unable to look at the screen. Even Wong seemed unable to deliver the news without emotion, her voice wavering slightly as she finished the quote. Tali felt a hand grip hers and opened her eyes once more to see Quin'Sala looking at her. She nodded her thanks as Wong continued.

"Much has been said about Commander Shepard in the nearly four years since he was first made a Spectre. He has been called the Hero of the Citadel by many, derided by others following his return to the galactic scene less than a year ago for his supposed terrorist connections to Cerberus."

She saw Garrus bristle at the mention of Cerberus, one of his talons digging into the polymer coating of the table top. The engineer understood the reaction. It had been the Council themselves that had questioned Shepard's loyalty and even when they had finally accepted that he wasn't an enemy they had done nothing to quash the rumors or insinuations. She blinked in surprise, though, when Kasumi rested a hand on his shoulder and he immediately relaxed his iron grip.

Something apparently told Quin'Sala that this was a private moment. The younger quarian shook her head when Tali gestured that she should stay, just dipping her head and slipping back towards the bar while the broadcast continued.

"Most of my viewers don't know that I met Commander Shepard shortly after he became the first human Spectre. His actions saved lives and exposed corruption within the Citadel. To his detractors I say simply believe what you will, but the man I met believed in doing whatever was necessary to help those he had sworn to protect and serve. And to you, Commander, wherever you may be... I say thank you. This is Emily Wong with CNS, signing off."

They sat in silence for long moments after the broadcast ended. They were an odd table... three members of the crew that had stopped Saren, a thief who had given up her life of crime to help save the galaxy, and an asari matriarch that had been alive long before the Commander's people had even dreamt of the stars. Conversation hummed around them. Tali could hear the voices, some shocked, some disbelieving. A few even sounded honestly saddened.

"If only they'd appreciated him when he was still here," Tali said bitterly.

Aethyta responded, her throaty voice gentle. "People rarely appreciate what they have until it's gone, honey. But I don't think the man cared what most people thought of him. I think it mattered what you all thought of him."

"She's right. Shepard told me once that he never set out to be a hero. He said he became a soldier because someone had to take a stand for what they believed in," Garrus said.

The turian raised his glass to the others at the table.

"To Shepard," he toasted, voice thick.

Five glasses clinked together.

"To Shepard."


"It took you long enough, Shepard... I was beginning to grow restless."

The bridge is in little better condition than the rest of the ship. Only the glow of the pulsating star outside the viewport illuminates the room beyond the dull monochrome of the emergency lights. Saren stands in front of the scintillating star, his turian form a dark silhouette against the light.

"I had to stop and meet some old friends along the way," he replies sardonically. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Saren turns to face him. The visage isn't the same one that has haunted his dreams for so many months. This one is clean and unblemished. The turian looks down at him with a condescending smile.

"Why do you continue on this path? I thought you finally understood that you cannot deny their will."

"I took the only option I thought I had left... but if there's another choice then I'll fight with everything I have for it. For the first time in months I was able to think without a voice in the back of my mind, whispering to me that I'm destined to fail. The Reapers aren't infallible. Sovereign failed. The Collectors fell. The Alpha Relay was destroyed."

With menacing deliberation Saren steps down towards him, spreading his arms.

"Yes, but it cost you. One man had to die for you to stop me. Three hundred thousand was the price for the alpha relay. Their blood is on your hands, human, or have you forgotten?"

Shepard shakes his head. "I haven't forgotten. I'm not an innocent, Saren. I never will be again... but I can live with that. If there really is anything that comes after all this then maybe I'll be judged then. What I won't accept is playing by your rules..."

"They aren't rules," the turian snarls. "They are inevitabilities!"

"Nothing is inevitable! Too many people have given everything. Everything! I'll be damned if I let them down. The Reapers want my life? I'm done making it easy for them! They'll have to fucking take it!"

"Gladly!"

Saren's roar is bestial as he throws himself forward and Shepard responds in kind. There is no grace or fluidity when they meet. The flesh impacting echoes through the otherwise deserted room. His shoulder slams into the turian's stomach in the same moment that Shepard feels a sharp elbow drive into his back. Somehow he notes that both of their armors have disappeared as if this is completely normal.

He shoves Saren away. The fallen Spectre surges forward again and Shepard barely twists aside to prevent sharp talons from ripping him open. Instead two red lines appear on his chest. He responds in kind. A left hook catches the over-extended turian in the side of his head and sends him reeling back. His opponent shakes his head rapidly.

"Is that the best you can do, ape? Pathetic."

Time seems to blur again. Claws and fists, brutal kicks all meld together into an incoherent fury. A punch knocks the wind out of him, his knee does the same to Saren. Another kick and he feels ribs crack in his side. His jab connects square with the turian's jaw. Saren tries to dig his talons into the Spectre's arms. Shepard drives his head forward hard enough that the crack is audible even to his own ears and both men stagger backwards.

Shepard spits a mouthful of blood on the floor, his chest heaving. Blue drips from the other man's mouth and one of his eye sockets.

"You're supposed to be all my fears... all the Reapers power... are you getting tired, Saren? What happened to that limitless power?"

The blow hammers into his cheek like an aircar, Saren doesn't even bother with his claws, just seeming intent on hitting him as hard as possible. Shepard gives as good as he takes though, responding with a wild haymaker of his own. The fallen Spectre's head snaps back and he falls back against the nearby console, chest heaving.

"You can't... can't win..." Saren hisses.

"Watch me."

An overhand blow almost drives the turian to his knees. Saren's counter drives the wind from his chest once more. Neither even tries to block any more. Just trading blows, one after another. With a final surge of energy Shepard throws all his weight forward and drives his fist into the turian's face hard enough to knock him to the ground.

He stands over the fallen man. Every breath he takes is like fire in his chest. Blood covers his knuckles, his own red and Saren's blue. The corrupted Spectre looks up with glassy eyes and pushes himself backwards, finally staggering to his feet. He waves unsteadily.

"How?" Saren rasps, blood covering his chin. "Tell me how! I tried, Shepard! I fought with everything I had! All my anger, all my hate!"

"Because I remembered that I had something worth fighting for," Shepard says. "Not just hate. Love. Sacrifice. Friends. People that had faith in me even when I didn't. All you did was try to save yourself."

Saren coughs and wipes a hand across his mouth, a trail of blood marring his gray hide. His hand slips behind him and a pistol is suddenly in his three fingered grip. In one smooth motion the turian snaps it up to point straight at him.

"It wasn't just for me. I thought I could save the galaxy."

Shepard pauses. Trying to calculate how fast he could move, cover the few feet between them. His muscles tense and he sneers at the fallen Spectre.

"You can't save something that you don't have a stake in. All you ever saw was your own hate. But it's over now. Do it... but I hope whatever is left of you goes back to the Reapers and tell them that I never stopped fighting. Show them that one person, one human can defy them."

The turian's breathing slows slightly as he recovers, though the gun wavers in his shaky grip. Shepard locks gazes with the avatar of everything that he's stood against for so long. Something flashes there, a spark. A hint of recognition.

Saren's mandibles curl slightly and he gives a short, wet laugh.

"Maybe one human can."

Shepard doesn't give the turian the satisfaction of flinching or closing his eyes. He simply waits for the shot to come.

"Goodbye, Shepard."

Saren turns the gun upwards, places it under his own chin, and pulls the trigger.


Darkness had fallen on the Presidium when they finally left the bar. Liara decided to remain behind and catch up with her long estranged 'father', while Garrus returned to the ship with Tali and Kasumi in tow. They had barely made it up the stairs to the main corridor when a familiar face appeared in the corner of Garrus' vision, stepping out of the shadows of one of the many alcoves that lined the path. He stopped immediately and his hand twitched towards the gun at his hip. Long dark hair, intelligent eyes.

"Miranda?"

"You didn't draw your weapon... I'm glad I earned at least that much in my time aboard the Normandy," the operative said as she entered full view.

"You earned more than that," Garrus replied. "But right now... it's hard to trust anyone."

Tali stepped forward. "What are you doing here, Miranda? I thought the last we heard Cerberus was searching for you?"

"They are. And the Citadel is the last place I should be... but this couldn't wait. After I heard about the Commander... I knew the only other people I could trust would be the rest of the crew."

"What are you talking about?" Kasumi asked.

Lawson shook her head. The revealing outfit that she'd favored during the mission to stop the Collectors had been replaced with much more practical, and less noticeable, attire. Garrus couldn't help but note the slightly harried look in her eyes or the fact that she looked a little thinner than before. Miranda had always been in control of almost every situation. Clearly the loss of that control didn't suit her.

"We shouldn't talk here. Back on the Normandy or somewhere else private."

"Look, if it's important enough to come to the Citadel... just spit it out, Lawson," Garrus said. "If Cerberus has bugged every corridor on the Citadel, that would be impressive, even for them."

She frowned, clearly unhappy with the idea, but nodded at last.

"My old contacts have tried to keep me informed, keep me ahead of anyone the Illusive Man sent after me... but two days ago I got a single databurst and then every single contact I had went silent."

"I don't like the sound of that. At all," Kasumi said.

"You shouldn't. The databurst was encrypted information about something called Operation Keystone... only parts of the data made it through," Miranda agreed.

"How bad are we talking here?" Garrus demanded.

Miranda sighed and met his gaze.

"Very bad. He's not hiding anymore, Garrus. Keystone is the Illusive Man's plan to seize control of the Citadel."


So, this chapter is a little later than I planned... but not for nothing! Big news!

Razor's Edge now has an official 'cover' thanks to the talents of amxdude. You can check out his amazing work in their full glory by visiting his personal page and deviant art pages at:

www . markartwork . com

and

animemagix . deviantart . com

But like a Billy Mays special... that's not all! One of my readers (the super helpful Bahroo) has earned my eternal gratitude by doing a full edit of ALL of Razor's Edge and Dark Witness. As we speak I'm updating all of the chapters of the previous works with new, edited versions. I even threw in a few tweaks here and there! It won't be all at once but expect by Friday for both stories to be completely updated.

My thanks to both of these guys for putting in a lot of work! And as always a thanks to my beta readers for keeping Requiem from needing to be edited after the fact ;)