Disclaimer: Mass Effect is copyright of Bioware. Many of the characters contained herein—Shepard included—are property of Bioware. Shepard is partially of my forging, since I could imagine his background and actions during his military career. The sequence of events and their outcomes are property of Bioware. The interpretations of the events are my own. Ci-Ci is mine. Please do not repost this story or any parts of it herein. Always give credit where it is due. I owe the Mass Effect Wiki a great deal for helping me figure out timelines, details, and other such things.

I welcome constructive and/or encouraging reviews/critiques. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

5 October 2183—Shepard's Quarters, SSV Normandy, orbiting Alchera, Amada System, Omega Nebula

Shepard had probably had the worst ten days of his life. He was still pissed at Corinthia, she hadn't tried to contact him, she wasn't assigned to the Normandy, Joker was teasing him constantly, his entire squad seemed tense, and he was hunting down geth instead of the Reapers. The Alliance and Council had shafted him. They said that there wasn't a Reaper threat, that Shepard had eliminated it with Sovereign.

For the first time in his life, Shepard doubted that he was in the right place. Corinthia may have had the right idea, leaving the Alliance for the Spectres. He'd always imagined that he'd end up as some kind of admiral, but if he was going to have to jump through hoops to get there, he wanted nothing to do with it. If he hadn't spent all that time hunting down Cerberus, he might have even considered joining them. Then again, they didn't forgive easily and wouldn't have taken him even if they wanted him.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He missed Corinthia. A lot. More than he'd thought possible. He should probably apologize and tell her that she was right. It was what she wanted to hear, at least, and then he'd have one less thing to worry about. Sort of. Not really. He still didn't trust her out on her own, but it was something he was going to have to get used to, whether he liked it or not.

As he reached to open their vid link, the Normandy jolted hard enough to knock him out of his chair. "What the fuck…?" he breathed.

The alarm sirens blared, casting a dangerous red glow on the walls. People screamed and pounded through the hallways.

"Shit."

Shepard could hear his heartbeat and his panicked breaths. His mind raced, trying to find a way out of this mess, but there wasn't one.

He was going to die.

He watched in horror as the unknown attackers' ship blasted the Normandy into pieces. The force of the blow pushed Shepard farther into the void and, worse, towards the atmosphere of Alchera.

His life didn't flash before his eyes; Corinthia did. He felt like a sap, but if she was going to be the last thing he saw, fine. If only he'd had the chance to apologize…

Something ripped. He started to choke. His armor depressurized and started leaking air. He clawed at his throat, trying to find the hole. He felt the heat of the atmosphere as he started reentry. Suffocation was a better death than burning to a crisp or having his blood boil from the vacuum of space.

Damn stupid way to die, he thought. I hope Joker's grateful. I did this to save his ass.

His heart-rate slowed. His vision spotted and turned to the deepest darkness.

Commander Shepard was dead.

7 November 2183—Arlington Cemetery, Earth, Sol System

Corinthia stood, feeling out of place amongst all the military personal. She'd left the Alliance, so she couldn't wear her dress blues and was left to don a black dress, hat, and veil like someone out of an old movie. They were calling her Shepard's widow, just to make things easier on the press and for the legal issues.

Garrus, Alenko, Wrex, and Anderson carried Shepard's empty coffin, draped with the blue Alliance flag. Everyone stood up, saluting if they were military or just looking somber if they weren't. Even the Council had deemed to appear (as holograms, but still, it was a nice gesture). Liara and Tali stood behind Corinthia, fighting tears. Shepard had been the idealistic commander and tried to get everyone off the Normandy before it was destroyed. He did his duty and went down with the ship.

Corinthia took a steadying breath as she watched the casket, trying not to think about the fact that it was empty. Part of her believed that he had survived, but the rest of her knew that there was no way that it was possible. His body had entered the atmosphere. He'd only been in an envirosuit and, from what Joker said, his life-support hose had been cut. His blood had boiled as he died of asphyxiation.

It took all her power to keep watching as they bore the coffin towards its final resting place. Arlington Cemetery looked as morose as every with its white headstones, manicured green grass, and large trees to shade the graves. Corinthia hated it. Joker, Liara, Tali, and Dr. Chakwas stood behind her, touching her arm, hand, or shoulder to let her know that she wasn't alone. Every last member of the Normandy's crew was ready to follow her into hell, if she asked it, to hunt down the Reapers.

"It's not fair…" Liara breathed.

The pall bearers stopped before the grave, following Anderson's orders to set the coffin down and fold the flag.

Corinthia fought back sobs. She'd been dreaming, thinking that he would show up, alive with another dashing scar, and sweep her off her feet like nothing had changed. She wanted to be angy at him, but she couldn't. She was mad at herself. If she hadn't left the Alliance for the Spectres... If she had been on the Normandy, she could've saved him. She could've pulled him back in, gotten Joker herself, something... Why had she left him? Why hadn't she just sucked it up and hacked her way back onto Shepard's crew? She had the opportunity to join him as a Spectre, too; she wasn't leaving for Ilos for another three days. She could've saved him or stopped him or something.

Corinthia gulped. If she opened her mouth, she'd start wailing and crying again. She's spent the last month crying herself to sleep, crying herself awake, crying as she arranged the funeral, crying at anything that reminded her of him… She didn't know how her body could keep making the tears, but it did. More were coming, too.

A troop of marines stood at attention, guns ready for the salute. The pall bearers set down the coffin and started folding the flag. It was like they were folding up every bit of him into a neat triangle, showing only the best part of him to the world, but not the whole truth. She wanted him all. Anderson held the folded flag out to her. She accepted it, trying to keep her hands steady, and held it close to her chest. Her legs were turning into jelly, unaided as the Marines started the twenty-one gun salute and the pall bearers lowered the casket into the grave.

Corinthia didn't know what was happening. She clutched the flag's stiff fabric, feeling every coarse thread, watching the world go by, sometimes slow and sometimes as super-speed. People began filing out, throwing a flower into the grave and murmuring their condolences to Corinthia. Why flowers? He hated flowers. He wasn't sappy like that. It didn't represent him at all.

Eventually, almost everyone was gone. Shepard's team and Anderson remained. Joker hobbled over. "I'm so sorry, Ci-Ci…" he said hopelessly. "This is my fault."

She shook her head. "He was too much of a damned hero for his own good." Her voice rasped hollowly, like a witch. She swallowed. "Don't blame yourself."

Joker patted her shoulder. "Thanks."

No one said anything else. Honestly, they didn't know what they could say that hadn't already been said. They'd seen so much death, but to have the one person they never thought would die actually die was… unbearable.

Corinthia shuddered. Her knees finally gave in and she fell to the ground with a dull thud. The cold fall dew soaked into her clothes, chilling her knees. She started sobbing like a child, but she had never really been a woman to begin with. She couldn't speak, but she wanted to shout "WHY?" at the top of her lungs. She had, again, lost the only thing she really cared about. Was she just fated to never, ever be able to keep something she loved for more than a few years?

Liara embraced her. Somehow, it knocked Corinthia back into reality. She swallowed her sobs and shakily drew herself to her feet. "Sorry about that," she muttered.

Anderson put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand, Ci-Ci. We all do."

She nodded. "Now what?"

Her question was more philosophical than specific, but that didn't stop people from answering.

"You move on," Alenko said. "It won't be easy, but it's what you've got to do."

"And forget him?"

"I think that's impossible. This isn't easy for any of us, but we can't dwell on what we've lost."

Corinthia knew he was right, but she wanted to keep pouting. "If you say so…"

Wrex awkwardly clapped her back. "Want a drink?"

"No thanks. I've got work to do."

Everyone stared at her in disbelief. "I thought you'd take a vacation," Anderson said. "You never did—"

"I'm a Spectre, sir. My job doesn't stop just because someone died. I'm going to Ilos with you. That isn't changing." Her eyes narrowed in determination. Liara shuddered. Some part of Corinthia had died with Shepard, or maybe all of her had. The woman standing before them wasn't the girl telling "that's what she said" jokes months before.

Liara frowned. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No." Corinthia smiled. "Thank you all for coming. I… Thanks." She left without another word.

"I'm worried," Liara murmured. "She isn't herself."

"What did you expect?" Wrex answered. "You squishy species don't deal well with emotions."

"At least we have them," Liara snapped.

Anderson shook his head. "I think it's best if we all leave."

They nodded and dispersed, a feeling of hopelessness settling into their hearts. Without Shepard, the galaxy wouldn't last much longer.

9 November 2183—Corinthia's Home, Presidium Ward, the Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Corinthia opened her door only to find a man sitting on her sofa. He was older, with grey hair, a tailored suit, and eyes like Saren's. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply, releasing the smoke through his nose. Strangely, though, she couldn't smell the stench of tobacco. "Commander Corinthia?"

She reached for her pistol. "Who wants to know?"

"That isn't important."

"You're sitting in my house and smoking. It sure as hell is."

"I'm here representing Cerberus."

She drew her gun and pointed it at his forehead. "Then give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now?"

He chuckled. "I have a proposition for you. You can kill me after you hear it."

"You have thirty seconds."

"The Council doesn't believe that there are more Reapers. I do. They won't let you continue your investigation, just like they didn't let Shepard. If you join us, I'll give you the funding to hunt the Reapers down and stop this threat. You'll get anything you want."

"Can you bring Shepard back?"

He cocked his head to one side. "I think you know the answer to that question."

"Then fuck you." She shot. The bullet went right through his head and shattered the window behind him. He didn't move, flinch or bleed. "What the hell?" she gasped. "A hologram?"

"I thought you might try something," he answered. "You'll regret this, Commander."

The Illusive Man cut off the transmission with a sigh, taking another deep drag of his cigarette. He was sitting comfortably in his secret base, watching a star die before him. He had known that Corinthia would never agree to his request, but it had been his only chance.

Well, maybe not anymore.

"Miranda," he started.

A dark-haired, curvy woman in a skin-tight catsuit came out of the shadows. "Yes, sir?" she answered, Australian accent crisp and cold.

"Commander Corinthia raised an interesting point. Would it be possible to bring Shepard back?"

"With enough money and the right technology, yes."

"Then do it. Find his body. You'll have everything you need."

"I understand, sir."

He extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray on his armrest. "Then let's get started."