A/N: So, I finished the game a week ago, and I've been waiting to post this based on some feedback from my lovely beta. She said my original format idea was too confusing, so I'm posting in parts again (along with continued cursing of FFN's lack of formatting options). Like Variations, it's designed to work separate and together – common parts are in bold. Also, since there's nothing "live" left for me to fic, I'm posting the final piece concurrent with this two-parter.

Spoilers through Rannoch below. Special thanks to my BSN buddy Jhon for sending me the final quote. And thanks again to all the readers and reviewers. :)

Myopic.
That was one of the words.

If there's one thing all species have in common – organic and synthetic alike – it's history. It's what makes us who we are, reminds us of where we come from. Sometimes, it builds us up, invigorates the spirit – how sweet and fitting it is to die for one's country!

And sometimes, it's just something to overcome.

We've spent a lot of time trying to overcome history.
And history can never truly be overcome. It can only be amended.

So, we try to mend and amend, to soothe past hurts to unite a galaxy while the storm front still looms before us.

Myopic.

War between the quarians and geth, grudges held because of the genophage… It may all be irrelevant tomorrow. Hell, I think even a stubborn old man like my grandfather would fight alongside a turian if he thought our very existence was at stake.

And maybe that's the problem.

Maybe they can't see the storm. Maybe everyone's so caught up in a blizzard of their own making that they don't see the patch of unsteady ice they're trying to cross.

Sure, we can amend the past. But it's meaningless without a future.

I wonder if we've spent so much time bogged down in history that we can't see the present anymore.
And we're lucky to have that chance.

For far too many people, the present has ended already – the future will never happen.

So, we work to rally forces and built our weapon of last resistance. We amend history and forge new alliances. We bring enemies together as newfound comrades.

There's an old phrase my grandfather used to tell us: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." It's an amazing thing, to see the whole galaxy band together to try to stop the Reapers, but, if we make it through, I wonder how long the unity can last. Curing the genophage, reuniting the quarians and geth… there have to be long-term consequences of that, and I don't see any of them being positive.

Of course, the storm still rages all around us. Being pessimistic about the future is probably optimistic, at this point.

We can't stay out of the rain for long.

I'm surprised we've made it last this long.
Eden Prime. Three years ago. That was the beginning of everything.

The first theater of our war – we just didn't know it then. The 212, my unit, one of our first casualties. We never had a chance.
The hurt has never faded, still feels fresh. But it seems so long ago … Yesterday and a lifetime ago in one.

How long does it take for everything to change?

Maybe that's the trick of time: when it's something like Eden Prime, a cornerstone in the life you've built, you can't find a good perspective.
And perspectives are always shifting.

I look back on who I was when I first met you, and in some ways, I feel that I hardly know her. The things I've seen, the things I've done since then... all of it would've been foreign to that Ashley Williams. I always thought I'd spend my career ground-side, and then you came along and catapulted me into the stars.

I wonder what my grandfather would say if he knew I called a turian my friend and comrade.
I wonder what that Ashley Williams would think if I told her I fought alongside a geth.

The geth.
I used to think they were synthetic killing machines.

The butchers of my unit.

But it sometimes just takes knowing one to change your perspective.
Legion.

For a geth, for an AI, he was rather likeable in that "little lost puppy" way. I didn't know him for long, but with his patched-up, makeshift N7 armor, he seemed more like a little kid playing dress-up than a threat who sided against us with the Reapers.

But, that's not fair to say about all geth.
Not anymore.

Legion wasn't like that.

The old me would've been suspicious. But I've learned you can't judge everyone based on the actions of a few. I'll never like the geth, I'll never value their existence as much as I value that of living, breathing creatures. But, I won't shoot them on sight anymore either.

Legion wasn't a fluke. He represented more than just himself.

The many in the one.
The geth had religious and philosophical differences, just like us.

I can't blame Legion for the heretic geth any more than I'd blame the rest of us for Cerberus, our own heretic humans.

I can't say I mourned the loss of Legion, but I know that you did, Shepard. He was part of your crew. They all were. The drell, the salarian …

I know what it's like to lose people who were entrusted to your care. Even if they weren't technically under your command or even still in your squad, there's a bond between comrades that transcends battlefields and station. They were your people, your friends. And now they're gone.

But we still have a lot left to fight for, Shepard, and I'm not letting you give up.

I have faith, in you and in us, and in what we can accomplish.

And there's always hope. Even the geth admired our capacity for it, how it could sustain us during difficult times.
There's an old phrase out of the Human Bible: "You reap what you sow."

I know that we've sown some good, Shepard.

If all goes well, if we're able to do what we're setting out to do… I hope that you'll be able to step back from the destruction and loss and pain and reap what you've sown, enjoy all of the good.

But, I don't know if any of us will get that ending.

I don't know if anything we've done will change our fate.

That's why we have hope.
And that's why we continue to fight.

Our allies may be myopic, but they're standing with us now.

A galaxy united. Histories amended.

You can't rewrite the past, but the future is yours to be written.

So, if this is how the world ends… it'll be with a bang, not a whimper.

I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out
in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom
of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.
- Jack London's Credo