(The Present)

Keeping her back to Garrus, Jack lifted spasming fingers to quickly wipe away the blood trickling from her nose. Her digits, autonomous with their own jerky movements, failed to do little more than smear the dark liquid along her cheek. But cleanliness was the least of her problems.

Pounding with a pulse too erratic for her heart, her head produced a pain so intense that her vision tripled and flared. To keep from stumbling, Jack kept her combat boots planted in her customary wide-stance and prayed that simple muscle memory would keep her upright. Beneath her, London rolled as if the entire island had been set adrift, becoming the greatest of Her Majesty's Ships.

'Jack?', carrying more than a hint of concern, Garrus's voice bled from the darkness behind her. 'Jack, I can't get any closer…the heat. You're burning up.'

'Burning up?', she thought. 'But I'm so cold.'

Reaching up, her fingers paused expecting to find her ponytail of hair but instead found the smooth skin of her bald head. Somehow that was what began to settle the raging behind her eyes. The comforting sensation, and the normalcy inherent with the feeling, produced a calming blanket that eased the pain striking her body and mind.

'He's close, Vakarian,' Jack's strong cadence the antithesis of the debilitating maelstrom raging inside her body.

The main avenue ran off to their right with the beam and the three Reapers, the tops of which where visible over the jagged crackle of splintered buildings. According to telemetry reports, Shepard's last known position put him in the middle of the open space of the avenue, but Jack had led them to the left amongst the rubble and the cover it provided.

'I thought you were bringing us this way to stay clear of their main force?', the Turian questioned. 'He wouldn't be over here. Shepard would've been where the fighting was thickest…that's his way.'

Jack appreciated Garrus's use of tense, and though she'd never admit it, the strength his presence seemed to gift her, but despite the Turian's beliefs, Shepard was nearby because it was here that the battle had drawn him.

'Something pulled him from the avenue,' Jack explained, 'Whether it was a blast or…something else. This is where Shepard's run stalled.'

Her 'heat' must have retreated because Garrus was able to move beside her. With one quick glance at her face, the veteran knew something was wrong, terribly wrong.

'For God's sake, Jack, you're injured! We need to fall bac…'

'Go if you want, Vakarian,' her voice dropped lower, 'me…I'm not done my run.'

Too tired to fight and not particularly looking for an argument while they were so deep in enemy territory, Garrus opted to return to business.

'What are you looking for?', the Turian questioned his enigmatic companion.

'A road sign,' Jack breathed, 'Something to get us closer to Shepard.'

Cocking his head to the side, Garrus stared at her for a few beats before speaking.

'Saying stuff like that isn't very comforting.'

A snort, the closest thing Jack could get to laughter, appeared, as did the slightest of smiles, 'You know, Vakarian, you aren't half the prick I pegged you for.'

Garrus returned the half-smile with one of his own.

'Oh yes I am, its just that most get lost in my classic good looks and let it slide.'

'I don't let anything slide,' Jack replied.

'I know that you don't,' Garrus joked back, 'So wh…'

'There!', Jack interrupted, pointing to an 'A' frame of rubble off to their right.

His naked eyes not enough, Garrus brought up his rifle scope, squinted, and then sucked in a bite of air. By the time, he had pulled down his weapon, Jack was already halfway to the rubble, so the Turian kept his head low and double-timed his stride in pursuit.

By the time Garrus caught up, Jack was squatting at the base of the rubble, speaking softly.

'Where is he?'

Slight movements filtered around Subject Zero's painted form, marking the addition of a new participant in the evening's festivities.

Garrus crept closer just in time to see a metal finger point to a neighboring pile of stone and iron. A heading given, Jack flashed off, revealing the crushed and shattered torso of the Normandy's resident intelligence.

'EDI!', Garrus knelt beside his fallen comrade, uncertain where, or how, to help.

Her now twisted metal alloy made it hard to distinguish EDI from the structure on top of her, while liquids of unknown origin ran like mercury to pool at various points beneath her.

'My God, EDI, what can I do? Tell me what to do,' Garrus begged.

The Turian felt something slip around his gloved hand and looked down to see EDI's fingers laced with his own.

Gripping her hand as tightly as he dared, he repeated,

'What can I do?'

With half of her face crushed flat by a girder, her voice, so weak despite the eerie stillness of the space, seemed to come from some deep well.

'stay…while…I…die.'