Thank you to everyone who is reviewing! I greatly appreciate them, even any critiques.

Shepard, or Oya as she needed to start referring to herself, never once regretted her decision to embark on her new life. Even watching her own funeral, with people gathering around to talk about how much of an inspiration she was, didn't faze her. She watched her some of her old teammates go up and talk about her.

James and his non-stop referral of her as "Lola", Liara tearfully saying her goodbyes but talking about how – with Shepard in the coma, she had prepared her speech long ago, and even Wrex there to say how she was the best friend the krogan ever had.

She knew she should feel something, some small pang of guilt for letting her friends think she was dead… But she didn't.

Hell, she wasn't even mad that Garrus didn't make an appearance at her memorial. It was probably unseemly to go and talk about how your ex-girlfriend saved the galaxy and was such an inspiration while your new girlfriend waited for you in the audience.

Moreover, Shepard didn't feel like an inspiration. She felt like a failure. Sure, she had pretty much saved everyone – given life a new lease on the galaxy, brought species together that before refused to negotiate, but she had been chewed up and spit out in the process.

She was surprised when a call beeped through to her omni-tool from Sparatus. He was calling to check in on her, make sure she was alright, and checking on her emotional state after the memorial.

It was weird to her, to go from loathing the man and wanting to spoon his eyeballs out with a spork, to relying on him for friendship. He was diligent in ensuring that she was comfortable, that her doctors were treating her well and that she was sure she had made the right choice.

She appreciated his calls and as her treatment progressed, she looked forward to telling him of her improvements.

It was a surprisingly easy friendship that grew between them. He often talked about his wife and grown kids, referencing Shepard and her new partner – who she didn't know his or her name yet – being able to relax on their downtime, and eating dinner with his family.

The planning was making made her feel better, like she was a part of something again. She had initially entered this project to busy herself both physically and mentally. She hadn't counted on actually liking the people she worked with.

She was too used to adversity, too used to having to earn loyalty of her team. Well, she had earned Sparatus' loyalty in the previous years… But it didn't feel the same. She hadn't gone through hell and back just to get on his good side; it was more of a happy by-product.

The unintended, or maybe intended, consequence of the easy friendship was a renewed desire from her to live up to and exceed his expectations.

She worked hard to beat the doctor's estimations for each level of her recovery. They said it would take her three months to be walking on her own, she did it in one. They said she would take four weeks to adjust to her upgraded neural, ocular, biotic and physiological implants, it took her two.

She didn't want to take more time than absolutely necessary in order to be ready for the field. She worked with a personal trainer, a gymnastic expert, a combat trainer, a tech expert, a biotic, and a stealth specialist all in the hopes of bettering her performance on the field. And their assistance had helped.

Her muscle memory of combat was already there and she harnessed her earlier skills and added new ones to her repertoire.

By the end of the year, Shepard was in better shape than she had been during the reaper invasion.

She was ready to leave the facility and meet her partner. She was the last guard member they were waiting on before revealing the project to the galaxy and she was anxious to get on with it.

Before leaving the facility, she was given her armor. It was an infiltrator's armor, as she expected. It reminded her of a quarian's environmental suit. She had her face and head covered by a mask, but it was also adorned with a hood.

The colors on the decorative hood, chest and thigh pieces were muted grays and magenta. She had to admit, she liked it. The rest of the suit was a classic second skin with the gray and magenta patterns making up her hood, crisscrossing over her chest to give the illusion of breast coverings, and then wrapping around to her back to cross over her lower back and end wrapped around each thigh.

The boots of the suit were completely flat in order to aide in her speed and stealth – heels simply wouldn't do. They were stepping away from her classic N7 armor in order to mask who she was… and to add decorative flair to her presence. Her and her partner would have to be visible during fancy dinners and official events, so they needed to look good as well as be functional.

Once the suit was adorned and all of the buckles and latches were in place, she stepped out of her room and walked towards the transport platform with a sway in her hips.

She was now officially Oya, the turian Councilor's personal guard.

The trip to the Citadel took less than a day and within eighteen hours from their onset, Oya was walking purposely towards the Council chambers. She didn't spare much of her attention to her surroundings, glancing here and there to see at the Citadel's reconstruction.

It looked much the same, probably thanks to the keepers mostly. However, flashes of bodies mid-processing flashed in her head occasionally as she happened glanced down a particularly dark hallway or air duct. She was able to shake it off easily enough though, it wasn't the first time she had seen horrors.

She had sleep to relive everything; her time awake was for the living.

She was expected and directed to a dark alley just off of the main walkway to the chambers. A door blocked her way and she was directed to remove a glove from her hand and place it on the security panel. She felt the scan and the corresponding, yet unexpected, prick on her finger – so they had to submit to DNA confirmation before entering; very thorough, she approved.

Her escorts did not follow her and the door closed abruptly behind her. To an unaware onlooker the guards would look just like any other C-sec officers milling around and watching the people coming and going.

She walked down the hallway confidently, she knew what she had agreed to and she knew that this was just the first step in a long journey. She wanted this.

She passed by a few doors with similar security measures littering each side of the hallway, four in all, before she came to the end of the hallway and stepped into a room that overlooked the presidium with one-way glass.

Sparatus was there, flanked by a turian armored in a similar fashion to her. He didn't have any of the decorative pieces she had, but his matte black armor was not as bulky as most turians preferred. His face and fringe was covered by a helmet of the same matte color. He was an imposing sight and she felt the need to stay a bit away from him until she was sure of his loyalties.

She knew it was a ridiculous thought, however. He would have been a spectre before he was on the guard, and a good one at that. His loyalty was not in question, but all the same, Oya felt the need to be careful around him – he made her uneasy.

"Ah, Oya, you've made it. I see you are moving quite nicely. I trust everything is in order then?" Sparatus spoke in his "business" tone. One he reserved for official meetings and proceedings. This was her formal admittance then, not just a courtesy call.

She nodded, "Yes sir." She answered simply. She knew that anyone else listening in on their conversation would only hear the councilor. Her and her partner's helmets were equipped with sound deadeners that, unless they were switched off, only allowed them to communicate with one another and the councilors. Another measure for safety and control.

"Good, this is Stryder, he will be your partner. You two are more than welcome to introduce your former selves to one another in your private apartment – the apartments are swept daily for listening and visual surveillance devices and access to the apartments is strictly controlled. You will wear your armor any time you are outside of the apartments, even in this room. It is imperative that your former identities are never revealed without Council permission."

She had questions, and so did "Stryder", as was apparent by his body language and Sparatus simply raised his hand. "Yes, you two will live together from now on. Each apartment has two separate sleeping areas with a privacy wall for each and then a central living room, kitchen, and private bathing area. There are six apartments in all, only four are currently in use for the four council member's teams. You two will be working very closely together and you were picked because your combat styles and personalities are complimentary."

He didn't give them time to ask any more questions before he started walking down the hallway, leaving them to follow on their own.

"Your room is number three, as the turians were the third species permitted to have a member on the Council. One the next level up is the two remaining apartments that are vacant and a recreational room for training and exercise. You can remove your armor while training in this room as is also swept for devices; however, for the time being, you must reserve your time for the room. Only one team in there at a time."

He stopped and had Stryder remove his glove to admit them into their private apartment.

"Now, make yourselves at home and try to get along." The councilor called back as he casually walked away from the pair.

The last line made Oya's stomach clench a bit… He wasn't sure they would get along; despite touting that they were a good match personality-wise.

They both stood still for minutes after the Councilor had left them to their own devices. They were both adults, but neither was expecting to have to see their partner on such a regular basis. Sure, it made sense from a security standpoint. They were each isolated from the general population and never alone.

The never alone seemed to be what was the most disconcerting, to Oya at least.

Stryder was the first one to make his move, removing his helmet and setting it on the entryway table. He stared at Oya silently with daring eyes, challenging her to remove her own.

She noted that he was handsome for a turian, vibrant red markings on each piece of fringe and mandible. His eyes were a deep green, almost black and his skin was a dark cinnamon color. He reminded her of many of the C-sec turians that were patrolling the embassies during the reaper invasion.

Oya assumed that his colony had a lot of C-sec officers and, in turn, spectre candidates produced out of them. It was probably the colony's main focus area.

She knew that she couldn't spend every waking hour in her suit; sure it looked like a quarian's environmental suit… But it wasn't, so she would need to be out of it at some point.

Oya sighed as she followed his example and removed her own helmet, pushing her hood back to allow her to remove the hardware. Unlike him, however, she tucked her helmet under her arm as if she was presenting herself for inspection… Or planning on putting it right back on. It took her a minute to bring her eyes to meet his after she heard him suck in a surprised breath.

She was a well-known spectre, not someone who was easily hidden and after everything she had done, he had to have recognized her.

Eventually she got the courage to meet his gaze and was surprised by the look she was receiving. It wasn't exactly surprised, but more a mixture of surprise and humor.

"So," he began, his voice more gravelly than even Garrus', "My partner is the great and dead Commander Shepard."

She didn't respond, he knew who she was and it was she who didn't know him.

"I supposed I shouldn't be too surprised that Sparatus handpicked you, though I am surprised you agreed. I would have thought you would have enjoyed retirement."

He eyed her a bit to gauge her reaction and to her credit, she didn't flinch as much as he was expecting. Most of the turian military and council spectres knew the extent of Shepard's injuries after the invasion was stopped, they knew her relationship with then Advisor Vakarian, they even knew what brand of medi-gel she preferred.

"My name is Tiberius." He finally admitted, extending his hand to her.

He had felt no sympathy or anything really for her when he had heard that Vakarian had moved on. He couldn't say he even understood the relationship to begin with; humans were too squishy for his tastes. Though, now that he saw what she was willing to do to escape her old life, he had to wonder with some measure of sympathy if the new spectre's decision had anything to do with it.

She returned the handshake and then quickly dropped her hand back to her side.

"Nice to meet you Tiberius… So, right or left?"

He was dumbfounded by her question and his mind was trying to dig up innuendos that she could be trying to make, but apparently his confusion was obvious to her and she gestured to the two separated loft-style bedrooms on each side of the living room.

"Left or right room." She said with a hint of a smile, her green eyes twinkling in amusement at his reaction.

"Oh, uh, right, I guess." She nodded and abruptly left to get herself situated.

Tiberius had to wonder what his expectations were from her as he found himself being severely disappointed in the abrupt end to their conversation – if it could even be called that. He followed her lead and went to his own sleeping area to deposit his helmet and scope out his new digs.

He had always admired the Commander, as did pretty much everyone. Though, he was wary of her. She was known for being reckless and a little on the aggressive side. He wasn't sure his own reckless style would really be compatible. They just might end up killing the Councilor on their own trying to outdo one another.

He pulled out a holo of his family and placed it on the nightstand. He had given up a lot to be where he was and he wondered if it was equally as hard for Shepard – or Oya as he should now refer to her.

He found himself glancing across the apartment to the wall separating the rooms and wondered why he cared so much. They had just met and while she had been a larger than life figure during the war, now she was just an anonymous guard watching over the council.

What had happened to her for her to want to give up all that she had? She had to have had a cushy retirement set up for her, he had heard that she was medically retired while in her coma and that she was going to be taken care of by the Alliance should she require it.

Everything was set up for her, but instead she chose to die – again – and start over from scratch. He wondered if Vakarian's dismissal had anything to do with it, or if there was something more that had happened after she woke up.

Simultaneously their omni-tools chimed with an incoming message and they both read over the particulars.

The introduction of the Council's Elite Guard was going to happen this evening and they were both to be ready for the parade of power and security at 1900 CST (Citadel Standard Time), there would be photos taken as well as a statement by each of the councilors. They were to remain at Councilor Sparatus' side throughout and then would be released after the dinner.

Shepard swore that she could hear Tiberius sigh at the same time she did.

She was all about protecting the Council and doing her part to ensure galactic stability… But standing around for the press was not her idea of fun.

She quickly glanced at the clock and noted that they only had forty-five minutes to prepare and to get underway. Instead of getting involved in unpacking and personalizing her room, she walked out into the living room and flopped onto the couch.

"Well, I guess that cancels my shower idea." She said to no one in particular. She knew that Tiberius had to have heard her, but she wasn't really expecting an answer.

Tiberius had stalled at her mild complaint and chuckled a bit. Well, they were going to be living together so he might as well try to break down the ice queen veneer. "Pity, I could have joined you." He stated plainly enough, hoping to at least get a chuckle out of her.

Instead he was awarded with silence, gloriously awkward silence. He poked his head around the wall to see if she had just moved out of hearing range and was greeted by the sight of her tomato-red face. He remembered what that meant – she was embarrassed.

He chuckled to himself as she opened and closed her mouth a few times before looking over and realizing he was watching her. She glared a bit and grabbed a pillow off of the couch and threw it at his head.

"Ohh yeah," he said as he thwarted the pillow projectile, "We're going to get along just fine."

He wiggled his mandibles a bit and was relieved when she tried to counter his initial statement in between mutinous chuckles, "You wish your reach was that good."

They continued like that for the remainder of their down time, poking fun at one another and working out the awkwardness of their living situation. He would make some sexual innuendo and she would counter with a stab at his ego – as considerable as it was.

Finally they got ready for their coming out party and donned their helmets once more. This time, they walked more fluidly next to one another, an unconscious reaction to the quickly thinning ice between them.

Sparatus let a grin slide as he watched the two casually walk up the steps of the Council Chambers and take their places at his sides and behind him. He had counted on their personalities meshing nicely.

They stood perfectly still and to the rest of the crowd it would seem that they were the perfect embodiment of good soldiers.

Then, the press came.

Not just the press, an entire contingent. "I hate reporters." Oya groused over the private comm link to Stryder. He was a bit surprised that she broke silence to talk to him, but he wasn't going to sit through this event in silence if he could help it.

"Yeah, saw you decked one a few times in your travels." He deadpanned, earning a poorly stifled guffaw from her. She was still maintaining her composure outwardly, but inside she wanted to cackle at the memories that brought forth.

"She had it coming." She finally was able to state when she was confident that she wouldn't break down into deep belly laughs.

Belting Khalisa Al-whatever in the face had been the highlight of humor even in her darkest days and a memory she could always count on for a good laugh.

"Oh I don't doubt it, oh look… She survived the reapers and is in the audience." He teased and was pleasantly surprised when she did break the good soldier act a bit to try and subtly glance around.

"No she's not! You liar!" She seemed genuinely amused and Stryder counted that as a win. At least in non-combat situations they could entertain one another. He was still apprehensive about fighting alongside her, but at least the out of combat part wouldn't be boring.

Oya had been earnestly looking for the bitchy little twat of a reporter when something else caught her eye. Just the slightest hint of gold and blue armor. Her heart immediately started pounding and all thoughts of the easy conversation at hand fell from her mind.

She could never get a good enough look to see if it was, indeed, Garrus Vakarian striding around the outskirts of the crowd, but the idea that it could be stopped her dead in her tracks. She even had to admit the armor wasn't all that unique, but it was something she saw him in often.

She had never really thought of how she would handle seeing him again, and she supposed that the fact that she was now Oya, the Councilor's guard made it easier. She simply wouldn't talk to him – she made a snap decision there and then to never talk to anyone other than Sparatus, Stryder and the other council guards. She had idiotically recorded her voice all over the Citadel on those "This is my favorite shop" advertisements so even talking could give her away.

Stryder made a few more attempts a levity before realizing that something had distracted her and he focused his attention outwards – like they were supposed to be doing anyways. He wondered if she was going to become a distraction for him since he was already forgetting that they were guards and no longer had off duty time when they were outside of their quarters.

Eventually the press got to ask their questions and, whether they were satisfied with the answers or not, they were dismissed and the formal dinner had started for all of the Council's guests

Oya and Stryder stayed on the Councilor's heels the entire night, only calling out people and situations to watch. Sparatus was listening in now on their conversations and they kept it strictly business. Sparatus was relieved that they seemed to be taking their postings seriously and that they were quick to watch his back. They were each keeping an eye on their own side of the room, watching the comings and goings with a keen eye.

A few too-eager guests were kept away from Sparatus while a few drunken politicians were diverted elsewhere, all allowing Sparatus to engage the guests that he deemed important. It went so well that the night progressed quickly and without event.

It wasn't until the party was winding down and the Councilors were starting to take their leaves when anything of merit actually happened, and it was only of merit to one – maybe two – people present.

As they were following the councilor out, an armored individual stepped out of the shadows and into Sparatus' path. Both Oya and Stryder moved to intercept the man, but were stopped by a simple gesture from the councilor.

"Ah, Vakarian. I thought I saw you lurking in the shadows. What can I do for you?" Sparatus asked casually. Garrus Vakarian had been an important official to Palaven command during the reaper invasion and everyone was surprised when he decided to go for a spectre position after the wars.

Sparatus had a lot of personal respect for the man and had easily passed his application forward, but now, with Oya so close and new to her role, he wondered if maybe he had made a mistake in helping to make Vakarian a spectre.

It was a completely selfish thought, and one he did not seriously entertain, but it was there nonetheless.

He had found himself growing increasingly fatherly in his regard to the human he once found an annoyance and a risk. He chuckled inwardly at his change of heart and promised himself to analyze it more fully later on.

"I was unaware the Council was preparing a personal guard, or should I say, Elite Guard. You guys kept this pretty well under wraps." Vakarian commented absently, "I wonder why applications weren't requested."

Ah, Sparatus realized now why Vakarian was so interested. He was prickled that he wasn't offered a spot. Turian arrogance couldn't be weeded out even with the most un-turian of turians.

"There were no applications, they were handpicked by each councilor. Mine are Stryder and Oya." Sparatus felt more than saw Oya tense a bit at the introduction. He risked a glance back at her and found her completely relaxed looking and even sporting a bit of a bored stance.

He noticed that Stryder was half facing her and more than likely watching her reaction as well. Sparatus filed that away for later – Stryder was worried about her, he could hear it in his subvocals through the private comm channel.

"I didn't see you at Shepard's memorial service." Sparatus noted a bit absently. He hated to drag Oya through this, but he needed to know that she could handle being around Vakarian and handle reminders of her old life.

To her credit, she still didn't change her position, though he heard the subtle click of a comm being removed from the connection. He'd let her have her privacy while he purposely goaded her.

Stryder, on the other hand, moved a step closer to Oya. It was subtle and could be attributed to a shifting of weight, but Sparatus caught the move nonetheless.

Vakarian tensed and glared at the Councilor as much as he dared, the audacity to ask such a question? In such a bored tone as well? He wondered what the Councilor was playing at as he turned to take his leave.

"I mourned her long enough before her death. Going there wouldn't have meant anything." He said in an equally bored tone as he left. He sent the Councilor a loose salute before walking out of sight.

Once out of sight, he leaned against a wall and took a deep breath. He had wondered, since he had heard Jane Shepard had woken in the hospital on Earth, if he had made a huge miscalculation.

He hadn't intended to get involved with Quinela, and Quin had brought up good reasons as to why he should move on. Humans almost never recovered from injuries so grim, and comas of that length grew more likely permanent the longer the person stayed in them. He didn't know much about human medical practice, but the more he researched, the more she seemed to be right.

She always brought it up how it was unfair to him that he remain tied to a good-as-dead woman. At first it had infuriated him, but eventually it started to make sense. She had even brought up that Shepard wouldn't have wanted him to live the rest of his life lonely and attached to a breathing corpse.

He had started relenting, admitting that maybe she was right.

Then, the innuendos had increased. The subtle flirtation no longer so subtle, they started to find reasons to be near one another. They didn't consummate their relationship, however, until he was officially a spectre. She didn't want the Council to think that she had given him special treatment, and she wanted to be with an equal.

They spent a year in bliss, taking out their targets, saving people from the scourge of mercs that never seemed to leave the galaxy alone, enjoying each other's presence.

And then she had woken up. Jane Shepard, the woman he had intended to marry, the reason he had thought of the spectres again in the first place, the woman he had given his heart to. He didn't think he would feel the emotions he had for her with anyone else, and in truth, he hadn't.

What he had with Quin was a pale comparison, but he had resolved himself to it. He loved Quin in a different way than he had Jane. It wasn't as passionate, it wasn't as heated, but it was still love.

He mourned her when he realized that Jane would more than likely not wake up. He had his own goodbye ceremony for her the day he decided it was time for him to move on.

He had spent a solid week afterwards completely inebriated. Quin had to pull him on to the ship, dragging his stupefied body by her own sheer will.

She had nursed him back to health, listened as he talked about his time with Jane, she let him heal.

And it had all been wrong, Jane had woken up. She had survived again and he didn't know what to make of it.

And now she was dead, well and truly dead. He could have been there to help her, to save her, and he wasn't. He could have been there when she woke, helped her heal… And he didn't.

He felt the woeful keen leave his throat as he only could in private. Quin was on a mission and had left him to scout out whatever big news the Council was going to reveal. He could never truly show her how much it hurt that he was with her and not Jane. That he, again, had not saved Jane. It wasn't fair to Quin.

He eventually pulled himself together and made his way back to the hotel room he was staying in, making sure to order a case of brandy to be waiting for him when he got there.

It didn't matter anymore, all he could do was live for those who were alive and to learn from his mistakes. He wouldn't let Quin suffer as Jane must have.

Sparatus had left Stryder and Oya at the entrance to the apartments. Stryder had been watching Oya closely since Vakarian had gone out of sight. She was acting too casual, too calm. He didn't know why he was so damned worried about her, but it clawed at his gut.

He watched as she removed her glove and placed it on the DNA sensor. Her hand was shaking. He didn't know what to do to comfort her. What do you say to someone whose lover just said her death memorial was pointless?

He followed her back to their room and noted the way she didn't remove her gear until she had retreated to her own room. Even then she just stripped down to her undersuit and collapsed on the bed, staring at the wall.

He wished she'd just cry, or do whatever it was that humans did when they were upset. He knew she was upset by the way she lay on her bed, not tense but also not relaxed, she wasn't even pretending to be an ice queen anymore. She was just… Staring at the wall.

He removed his armor and dressed in his civilian clothes, cooked himself food and heated up a meal pack for her. He wasn't even sure why he cared and was bothering.

He brought her the food, noting that it smelled horrible. He tried to rouse her in order to eat by nudging her foot, then her leg, then her hip – carefully avoiding her waist – and then her shoulder.

Eventually she swatted at him, a clear indication that he was at least annoying her out of her self-pity. He sat down on the side of her bed and set the food on her nightstand. He had an idea to get her to snap out of it, but he wasn't really looking forward to hurting her more.

"You know, you're going to tarnish my opinion of you if you continue to act this way." He spoke matter-of-factly. "Commander Shepard isn't supposed to pout." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to see if she would rouse to his goad.

She had started trembling, he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not, but continued. "You know, I've had girlfriends, well… Friends, act better 'bout a break up than this, and they were younger. You'd think a seasoned soldier would react more maturely."

He kind of felt bad saying these things, but he knew the old human adage of "You have to be cruel to be kind."

He didn't even know why he wanted to be kind, she was a freaking human – one he had just met – and he was treating her like an old friend. He hadn't gone out of his way for someone else in decades.

"You're being a selfishly pathetic weakling." He finished his punishment with that simple statement and prepared to leave her to her self-misery when a fist came flying at his face. He didn't have enough time to dodge the initial attack and took two more fists to his other side and his neck.

He finally caught his wits and started defending himself against her attacks, but never returning. He'd seen this kind of pain before and he knew she needed to wear herself out. She needed the release.

Finally after several minutes her hits started to get sloppy and her breath more labored. Eventually she stopped trying to swing at him and leaned each of her forearms against his, her eyes boring in to his chest.

She raised her head to look into his eyes and what she saw there seemed to be the tilting point. She well and truly broke.

He knew she would be mortified if he called her on it, so instead he stayed quiet as the sobbing started. The sobbing eventually became wails of sorrow and at some point she collapsed against his chest. He found himself hugging her to him, trying to give her what comfort he could.

During her attack they had ended up on the floor next to her bed, so he propped himself up against the wall and let her release her emotions into his shirt.

He wondered how long she had been holding these emotions in with no real way to express them. He knew that holding emotions in for too long was bad for turians and he suspected it was the same for humans.

Her sobs slowly stopped and her breathing evened out as she exhausted herself. He found that his chest was wet, but he also found that he didn't care. It felt somehow right, and that did bothered him.

Her breathing started to even out and slow into a steady rhythm indicating that she had fallen asleep on him.

He held her for longer than necessary, selfishly taking enjoyment in the closeness of another person. It didn't help that he had admired her since she became a spectre, and been slightly jealous of Garrus Vakarian. Goddamn jackass got the best posting in history on a designer state-of-the-art ship that planted him right in the midst of every major galactic event in recent history.

Then he ended up being the chosen companion of the hero of goddamn everything. Tiberius didn't even like humans, sure they were enough like asari for his tastes, but they were all so damned rash and haughty.

All of them but her. She had sacrificed for her crew, for everyone. He read the reports. He listened to the damned interviews. She had done everything in her power to better the lives of those around her and then the world shit on her.

He didn't know how long he sat there holding her and stewing in his own thoughts, but at some point in the early morning he roused himself up enough to hoist her up and back into her bed.

Placing the covers, he glanced back at her one last time before retreating back to his own side of the apartment.