A.N.: This chapter has been reedited. Some parts sounded cheesy as heck so changed them to avoid problems.

The Blade Runner

(7 months after Reaper's retreat)

"So how are you feeling? Better? Worse? Or you're favorite, "Not as good as last week?""

He hazarded a peek from where he had his head buried in his arms at the desk. The glare he sent her did nothing but answer her question...as it did last week, and the week before. "Not as good as last week it is then." she said with a sigh as he reburied his head in his arms, hoping that if he did so, his headache will recede. Just as last week and the week before, it didn't. Frankly, he was getting fed-up with this weekly routine. He turned his head to one side to stare out the window to the view beyond. It was a bright and sunny day, but unlike the headache and the doctor's questions, this was the case everyday. It tends to be like that on the Presidium, sunny and bright 24/7. It's not really a problem for him; indeed, he actually enjoys it. The problem is that it's all fake. It's trying to hide all traces of the war. To give people a place to escape to, to try and forget what happened. To create the illusion that all is well in the galaxy.

Lt. Commander Alex Cross found no escape here.

Frustrated, he shot up off his chair and marched to the couch. The doctor did not react to his sudden action because, yet again, he did he same thing last week and the week before. The soft cushions and cool surface of the vinyl couch was beyond inviting. Alex just let him self sink in to the large cushions and reveled in the cool touch of the old-style vinyl surface, instantly feeling calmer and more relaxed than he did when he woke up that morning. He sighed in satisfaction which, unfortunately, triggered the next part of his visit. The doctor stood up and joined him. Invading his momentary bubble of peace, she sat down on an adjacent chair that matches the couch while he prepared for her next question. Brushing her long, dark brown hair back behind her head, she leaned on her knees with her arms folded in front of her, took a datapad in one hand, gave Alex her full attention, and asked the question...as she did last week and the week before.

"How are the dreams?" Asked Dr. Torres with genuine worry and sympathy in her voice.

The Dreams. More like nightmares. It's what's been troubling him since that damn crucible activated and ended the war. The dreams have been the bane of his existence for the past seven months. Each dream happens at random, with no way to control them or predict when they happen. Only that each dream is just as intense and relentless as the last and each is based on the same thing. The Battle of Earth. The grand finale of the Reaper war. The Galaxy's last stand against the Reaper invaders. Each dream shows a part of what happened that day but not through his own perspective. No, he was stuck on earth when the Reapers hit. The dreams show him as a hammer squad soldier, not part of the resistance like he was. This was one of the luckier ones who escaped the initial attack. Something was off, though. Alex just can't put his finger on it. In the first dream, he was/they were only joined by two others soldiers, both human. He was/they were still surrounded by gunfire though. That much was evident. The rest though is an intense blur. Difficult to remember and recall. The only thing that had any clarity to it at all was the armor he/the soldier was wearing. Even then, he rarely got a glimpse of it. It certainly wasn't his size.

"Alex?" He was pulled out of his train of thought by Dr. Torres' smooth, inquiring voice "Has there been any sort of development with your dreams?"

There has actually. NOT like last week or the week before.

"Yeah. I think there is" Said Alex for the first time in the last half-hour.

"Really?" Replied the doctor with intrigue "Would you like to tell me?"

"Yeah, I do." He took a moment to take a deep breath and collect his thoughts before beginning. "I think each dream's connected, like one long vid. Although I get occasional er...'reruns', I am starting to remember things I see when they happen. Land Marks, specific moments, enemies...each new dream is continuing from the last and is leading up to something. What that is, I don't know...yet. But I've got a feeling I will soon enough." Alex finished while Dr. Torres looked at him with a thoughtful expression for a few moments before speaking.

"And what do you think will happen when your dreams reach this supposed climax?" She asked.

"I don't know" replied Alex "If I'm lucky, these dreams will end and I can go back to a normal life. If I'm not, then it will lead to something else entirely."

"That's definitely a breakthrough. Normally, a PTSD victim wouldn't have dreams that are connected like yours seem to be. This is definitely new to me. Needless to say, I'm intrigued." Dr. Torres was clearly enthusiastic. Of what he told her or of the progress he's making, Alex wasn't sure. All he wants is to get some sleep without bad dreams and without "herbal assistance" as he likes to refer to it.

The doctor was still taking notes as she asked the rest of the same questions from last week and the week before. 'Back to business' thought Alex, annoyed.

"How are your trips back to Earth?" At least they're almost done.

"Never easy. Everywhere I look, I see something that reminds me of the war. But I think I'm getting better at coping. It ain't my first brush with PTSD." Dr. Torres brought up his bio on her omnitool at that last part. "Indeed, your record states that you suffered from PTSD after the Blitz, but managed to recover quite quickly." stated the doctor, clearly sounding impressed. Alex just shrugged.

"How are you feeling when you're out and about?" Alex just raised an eyebrow at the Doc who rolled her eyes and came out with it. "Fine, are you still carrying your blades around?" Alex just lifted both arms and deployed his military-grade omni-blades. Dr. Torres wasn't too thrilled at the site of the blades because she thinks he's being paranoid.

What the doctor doesn't realize is that it has nothing to do with the PTSD. It's a state-of-mind Alex developed during his time in Seattle back on Earth. The orphanage that took him in was a decent place and so was the neighborhood but as he grew older, he started to feel like an outcast; out of place. What does a young kid do when he feels out of place? He starts searching for a place he could fit in. Inevitably, his searches led him from Oregon, where he was from, to the state of Washington and further down dark paths that he struggled with.

That's where Alex spent the rest of his pre-adult life. He grew up around gangs but never joined any despite the connections he had with some of them. During those few years, Alex learned how to survive on the streets; learning how to fight and defend himself, how to keep his head down. During those times he was also introduced to the sport known as Parkour. Alex Picked up on it, and after a year of practicing, he was flying from rooftop to rooftop and clearing ledges and gaps with the best of them. It also came in handy during fights; using his environment to his advantage. That's how he survived for as long as he did during his time on the streets.

Finally, the Doc decides to fire off the last set of questions:

"Are you taking your prescriptions?"

"No."

"Any anti-depressants?"

"No."

"Pain Killers?"

"No."

"Any sort of pharmaceuticals?"

"No."

All the same Q&As from last week, and the week before.

"What about herbal?"

Hello...

"What about it?"

"Are you taking anything herbal?" she asked suspiciously.

The look in Dr. Torres' eyes told him that she knew more than she was letting on.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Old habit from Seattle." He answered. "I quit since enlisting, but the dreams got so intense, I relapsed while looking for a reprieve. Sometimes it the only way I can get some sleep."

Dr. Torres looked a little worried at his confession. "You're not sleeping?"

"Not as well as I should be. The dreams make it hard for me to grab any shuteye. Sometimes, I wake up sweating and my heart beating, and still feel no less tired than I did when I first went to bed. Since I started doing herbal again, I've been sleeping better. I'm still having the dreams but at least I'm getting my eight hours. It helps, doc, it helps a lot." Alex rubbed his temple with one hand as he tried to ease the headache. He had to admit, that it felt good to tell someone about it. Growing up, there were few people he could trust with this sort of info.

Dr. Torres had long abandoned her datapad on the end table. She decided it best to exercise their doctor-patient confidentiality with this. "I'm sorry to hear that." she said sympathetically, "I'll make sure your secret is safe with me."

Alex just waved her off. "Thanks, doc, but don't worry your self about it." She nodded.

"Well, just be careful." She said, "Things can go very wrong, very quickly, especially when it comes to drugs."

"So true" Alex thought out loud.

Dr. Torres contemplated him for a moment before dismissing for the day.

"I'm guessing you're not clearing for active duty, yet?"

"Nope." She answered him with a confident and friendly smile. Alex just laughed and went to grab his jacket off the rack by the door.

Just as he was about to step out... "I don't think it's a good idea for you to walk around the citadel with a bag of contraband sticking out of your pocket." Alex froze on the spot. He could feel her staring at him from her perch on the chair. Without looking, he reached for the right pocket of his jeans and felt the soft edges of the plastic bag carrying his small stash of 'good' sticking out. With a quiet "Damn." he pushes the bag back in and continues out of the office, while the doctor laughs quietly a him. His ears burned with embarrassment. To tell someone is one thing, but for them to catch you holding is a big No-No. Alex is scolding himself on this screw-up. Good thing he already told her he smokes at night.

As he steps out of Dr. Torres' office, he gets hit by the artificial sunlight and the cool breeze of the presidium. He takes a moment to take in the view. 'Always goddamn sunny.' Taking in a deep breath, he made sure his stash is secured, donned his headset, queued his playlist on his omnitool and began the long walk back to his apartment.

Just another day of putting one foot in front of the other...

…...Another day of living.

'You're exactly what I need right now, Kaidan...I Love You...'

'When this is all over, I'll be waiting for you...you better show up...'

'Know that whatever happens, I will always love you...'

Those three sentences have been haunting Kaidan's thoughts since he first placed her name on the memorial wall. It's been seven months since anyone has last heard from her. Her last signal was received from somewhere on the Presidium. Admiral Hackett was the last to contact her and he said she sounded hurt...bad. The search has been going on for the past three months and Shepard's been missing for four months before that. By now, everyone looking has resigned to her not being among the living anymore. So now everyone still searching is trying to find her body, so that she can be put to rest. Only a hand full of people are still holding on to the hope that she may still be alive, the most notable being Conrad Verner. Kaidan used to be firmly in that wheel house but even he was beginning to realize, Cerberus were the ones who brought Shepard back before. But they're gone now. There's no one out there who could bring her back. Not even Liara and her Shadow Broker Network can find the faintest traces of her. Shepard is gone for good this time and Kaidan is slowly realizing that.

Whenever someone calls in any information, he always volunteers to confirm it. Fueled by desperate hope, he would follow up the information so thoroughly, it would make a salarian think twice. Sadly, nothing ever turns up and every dismissal tosses more sand at the hope burning inside him. Soon, there will be nothing left for him except ashes.

Now he's following up another such lead. Someone on the Citadel contacted the Alliance, saying that they may have found Shepard's body. Shepard's body. It's been confirmed that she's dead as the report states that the body had seen severe burn trauma. While on his way to Huerta Memorial hospital in Joker's new skycar, Kaidan is afraid to discover that the chard mess they may have found is really Shepard. He doesn't think he can stomach it if it was, but he has to, if he ever wants to get the chance to say goodbye.

"You okay, man?" Asked a worried voice in the driver's seat.

Kaidan turned his head to look at Joker who offered to come with him and support him through this nerve racking and heart breaking follow-up. Joker was like a brother to him and Shepard. Despite his jokes and sarcasm, they could always rely on the pilot to get them out of trouble. It's no surprise that he's just as desperate to find Shepard as Kaidan is but the difference was that Joker wasn't delusional like he was. Joker is more realistic about this than anyone else from the Normandy (Except for Javik). He knows it entirely possible that the cadaver maybe Shepard, no matter how unsettling the thought is.

"No, I'm not." Replied Kaidan, exhausted "We're on our way to check out a stiff that may just be Shepard and..."

"It won't be Shepard." Joker said with certainty. Kaidan isn't impressed by the pilot's claim.

"Forgive me if I'm not reassured." Kaidan retorted sarcastically. "And how do you know?" He asked skeptically.

"I can just tell. Call it woman's intuition." Joker replied cooly. Kaidan just rolled his eyes and resumed his melancholic pondering...

"Listen..."

….or so he did.

"I know this follow-up is a catch-22; If it really is Shepard, then she's dead. If not, then she's still missing. I get that. The thing is you're driving your self crazy about it. Normally, I condone that kind of thing. HELL, go ape-shit if you want, but you're reaching a level not to be approached by anyone and alarms are going off!"

Kaidan leveled the pilot with an annoyed look, "At least I'm not redecorating the interior with hint-of-puke. Besides, you know as well as the rest of the crew, better actually, what Shepard means to me. You know she's the only one who ever makes me feel whole...who gives me peace."

Joker grabbed Kaidan's shoulder in a friendly gesture before replying, "I know, oh man, do I know! And I thank you for not redoing my interior with throw-up. I doubt it will match the car, and it'll probably...you know, be gross, and stink. It just wouldn't work, dude." Joker let go of him with a smile. Kaidan can't help but chuckle at his friend's remark. It didn't help his mood much, but he was at least now able to relax a little, being able to enjoy the comfort from the leather seats of Joker's brand new Blackout, which he got at a steal thanks to the regrowing economy. Black-Black with all options minus the cargo opts.

'No wonder the economy's regrowing so quick,' Kaidan thought, 'everyone's getting the expensive stuff while it's still cheap, just like joker.' Kaidan smiled at this thought. All too soon, though, his thoughts fell back to Shepard.

Kaidan desperately misses the redhead in question. A woman like no other. A true hero, and the greatest example of a human the Galaxy has ever seen. A natural born leader who can win the hearts and minds of many, a compassionate person who cares for everyone's sake, a role-model who can bring out the best in even the worst the galaxy has to offer, a soldier who will step up to protect the innocent when no one else would, a true hero who's main weapon isn't a gun but negotiation tactics to make peace and avoid unwarranted blood shed, but to Kaidan, she was more. To Kaidan, she wasn't Commander Shepard, she was Katherine Shepard. An intelligent woman with a heart of pure gold and a knack for battle. A real lady of immeasurable beauty and charm. A woman of modesty and a strong moral sense. A person with a strong spirit and a generous soul. His beloved who shows nothing but unconditional love towards him.

Kaidan loves her with all his heart. To him there is no one else. She is how he described her and Rahna to be: Smart and Charming as hell, and beautiful but not stuck up about it. The difference between Rahna and her is that Shepard understands him. She listened to his story and didn't judge or criticize him. She gave him exactly what he needed: a shoulder to lean on. He returned the favor in kind when he finally got her to open up as well. He was there to comfort her when she told him about her regrets of being a part of the Tenth Street Reds back on Earth. He gave gave her the same supporting shoulder she gave him. There affection for each other was confirmed after that.

By now, his mood has long soured.

He misses her.

Joker noticed his decline, "Come on, man. Cheer up, will y..." He was cut off by Kaidan's agitation boiling over.

"What the hell do you want me to do about it, Joker!? I can't just stop worrying, or stop caring, or stop loving her! She means the world to me! I can't just accept that she maybe permanently gone this time!" His vision begins to blur, "I just can't..." he ended quietly. He slams his eyelids shut hard to stop any tears from falling. "This Jane Doe maybe our last chance. Word from command is that they might call off the search." Kaidan said defeated while rubbing his temple. He can feel a migraine building up.

Joker just looked at him with sympathy. "No wonder you're so wound tight about this one. Hackett's giving up. Can't say I blame him."

"Neither can I." replied Kaidan.

The two officers and close friends settled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip towards Huerta Memorial where their query lies waiting inside a body bag.