Disclaimer: All right to Mass Effect belong to Bioware, not me.

Waking Up

Chapter 5

"A cat. That's nice," Doc confirmed.

"I've never had a pet before, but he's good company."

"What's his name?"

"Soldier," Shepard informed him.

"Ah, seems appropriate," Doc said with a smile. "What's he look like?"

"Gray with blue eyes. Like Garrus's," she said as she smiled to herself. "Not that I'm comparing him to a cat; it's just strangely nice to wake up to big blue eyes staring at me first thing in the morning again." Shepard chuckled to herself, feeling slightly ridiculous. She must have sounded something like a five-year-old.

"Shepard," Doc started, "this week marks the halfway point. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she admitted. "Things seem clearer… I miss my team; I miss Garrus, but I'm slowly beginning to feel like myself again."

"You still feel guilty?" he inquired.

"How can I not?" Shepard countered. "I was summoned to save the world… and it was Garrus who saved me. He constantly reminded me what I was fighting for… I really loved him," she finished with a sigh.

"Do you remember that discussion we had the other day? The one where you were concerned about the masses not even knowing the names of your squad mates?"

"Yes, I remember," she said.

"That's your next play, Shepard. I think if you shared their stories – their sacrifices – you may be able to lessen the weight you carry."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

"Well, as usual, that's solely up to you," he said. "You've been pretty creative thus far, so I trust you'll do the same in completing this challenge."

"How am I supposed to share their story to so many people?" she asked her furry gray companion as she sat on the floor of her kitchen after her session.

"Mew," he responded simply.

"Thought you might say that," she said jokingly. "You are a cat after all." She sat there, listening to the hum of the refrigerator and sorting through her thoughts. Finally, an idea began to form. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She pushed herself off of the floor and made her way to her message terminal. She had disabled the vid comm capability when she had first moved in, but she decided to enable it for a short time – at least for this brief interaction.

"Commander Shepard," Admiral Hackett greeted.

"Admiral," she returned with a nod – a friendly gesture.

"How has your time away from the madness been treating you?" he inquired, not asking just out of kindness, but out of genuine concern.

"I'm halfway through my required therapy," she informed him without much emotion. "But that's not why I'm calling."

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"I want to put up a memorial. For my crew." It wasn't a request.

"There's already a new fountain in place commemorating all lives lost in the war. It's dedicated to all species."

"That's not good enough," she said matter-of-factly. He gave her an inquisitive look. "With all due respect, Sir, I need to do this." He stared for a moment, and with a heavy sigh, he gave a saddened nod.

"I'll approve your inquiry. Forward me your plans, and then I'll allow access to Alliance funds from your omni tool. Keep me posted." The last sentence left a ghost of a smirk on Shepard's lips – almost like old times.

"Will do, Sir," she finished. And as she ended the call, a successful grin spread across her face.

The plans she made weren't ostentatious; they were simple enough to be carried out quickly – just a memorial wall outside the Alliance headquarters in London, but one with their names on it. In reality, it was reminiscent of the memorial wall on the third deck of the Normandy. Shepard thought it appropriate.

She set off to visit it once it had been completed, and her chest tightened as she read the text.

THIS WALL HONORS THOSE SERVING UNDER COMMANDER B. SHEPARD DURING THE REAPER WAR

"GUIDE THEM TO WHERE THE TRAVELER NEVER TIRES"

Her eyes found the list of names beneath the short prayer, and she lifted her hand to allow her fingertips to trace the inscriptions. They were all there… James, Liara, Kaidan, Tali, and even EDI. She also found the names she had wanted there that she had to fight the committee for… the names of those who helped her in so many ways but weren't on the battlefield with her at the end. Samara, Thane, Grunt, Kasumi, Mordin… she smiled knowing that they would also be remembered for their sacrifices. And at the very top of the list per personal request was Garrus Vakarian. He was her right hand and her companion; that had to count for something. After all, it was him who had kept her going all that time… his words, his voice, his smell, his touch…

"That trip must have been difficult for you," Doc decided after Shepard had told him everything leading up to her visit to the memorial.

"Seeing his name in stone seemed… permanent," she decided.

"That's understandable," Doc said. "Are you aware of the military cemetery where your team rests?" Shepard raised her eyes to him, slightly winded.

"No," she breathed. Why hadn't she heard about this?

"Ah, well," he said. "I would like for you to think about visiting at some point. Not now, of course, but eventually."

"Is that my challenge?" Shepard asked blankly, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the thought.

"Actually, no. I think you're rather rigidly organized. That can be a good thing, but I feel that you may be relying too heavily on routine."

"I'm not sure I follow," she admitted.

"I would like for you to enjoy an unscheduled moment. Something you didn't plan."

'Hm, interesting,' she thought. Doc must have been decoding her face. He was getting pretty good at that.

"You're creative. You'll get there," he said confidently.

A day and a walk to the market later, Shepard could hear live music echoing through the streets. She reminded herself of Doc's challenge and decided to make a detour to track down the source of the music. With this decision made, she was able to follow the echoes to a large sign reading "Annual Music and Arts Festival." There was something nice and reminiscent about this. All these years and the living still appreciated art in its many forms. It was at this festival that Shepard accomplished her eighth challenge.

Challenge nine, however, was just that – a challenge. Doc was handing her a paper envelope at their next meeting.

"What's this?" she questioned, amused at the use of paper files in this day and age.

"Picture profiles of your teammates," he carefully stated, watching her facial features for some reaction. She froze mid-reach. After swallowing a painful surge of energy, she completed the transaction and accepted the envelope. She sat it in her lap and stared at it blankly.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Go ahead," Doc said. "Open it up." Reluctantly and with trembling fingers, Shepard reached in and pulled out a short stack of papers. The picture profile on top wasn't Garrus, which caused her to sigh a brief sigh of relief. Still, facing the picture of Liara was tough on her heart. "Take your time going through these," Doc said. "I want you to take them home with you. The last one, the one after that orange document, is the one I want you to focus on." That was code for 'That's Garrus.'

"You want me to look at him," Shepard decided.

"You've got it," he said with a nod and a sympathetic smile.

Throughout the day, Shepard was able to make her way from one face to the next. While the stinging of pain continued through the process, the comfortable pace, a glass of water, and the purring of Soldier next to her made it bearable. Finally, she came to the orange page Doc had mentioned as the marker just before Garrus's sheet. Instinctively, her fingers began to quiver. She closed her eyes and discarded the orange paper, knowing that Garrus's face would be before her the moment she decided to open her eyes. A deep breath. And then another. When she opened them, her vision was quickly blurred by the coming tears, but she was still able to make out the shape of his face. When the tears finally fell, she could see him clearly. She choked on her air supply and had to look away. A deep breath. She looked back to Garrus's picture and lifted her fingers to trace the curves of his face.

"Garrus," she said. He was beautiful to her. And that would never change.

"Great job, Shepard," Doc told her following the recounting of the challenge.

"He's gone," she admitted, feeling empty inside, but strangely feeling an oncoming sense of peace. It hadn't descended yet, but she believed it was on its way. Doc nodded at her comment.

"Can you forgive yourself for what happened?" he inquired. That was a heavy question, and it took Shepard a moment to process it.

"I want to," she confessed. "But in the end, they were my responsibility. I can't deny that."

"You may have been their commanding officer, but their loss is not a direct result of something you had done wrong."

"I…" Shepard trailed. She couldn't properly respond to that. She had to ponder it for a moment, and as counterintuitive as it seemed to her, what Doc just said made a hell of a lot of sense. "Maybe you're right," she caved.

"That's our next step here, Shepard."

"What is?"

"I'd like for you to forgive yourself. As we've discussed before, that guilt is too heavy a burden to bear, regardless of how many honors appear after your name in military history." He finished with a soft smile. "Think about it."

While lying in bed the next night, Shepard decided to have one of her one-sided conversations with her deceased lover that tended to occur when she was having difficulty sleeping.

"Garrus," she began. "Was it my fault? At first, that's all I could ever consider it – my fault. But I have to admit that Doc may be onto something… should I even be allowed to forgive myself?" Soldier decided to interrupt with a brief mew and a yawn. He stood from his resting spot near Shepard's feet and strode up to her face, burying his head in her neck. "Is that permission?" she asked her cat playfully. She let her mind drift and could almost hear Garrus's dual-toned words of comfort and encouragement.

'It's not your fault, Shepard. You saved so much. Accept that,' she could feel him tell her.

"It's not my fault," she found herself saying out loud. "And I can accept that." Of course, this wasn't said without a surge of emotion. She felt like she wanted to cry again, but instead she just repeated, "It's not my fault," until she was able to find sleep.

A/N: I would have updated sooner, but I went to Hogwarts for Christmas! (The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal's Islands of Adventure in Orlando, Florida). And for some odd reason, my hotel wouldn't let me log onto . Regardless, Merry Christmas, and I hope you enjoy! Much love!