AUTHOR'S NOTE: Howdy, y'all! First off, I wanted to thank everyone for all the positive feedback thus far! I really appreciate it. Secondly, I wanted to say that this chapter has some...coarse language in it. Thirdly, I wanted to say that this chapter, in addition to coarse language, is one of the most depressing things I've ever written. Bluh. Enjoy. I hope.

You'll never be alone.

"Vakarian, right?" The young man asked. He glanced down at his datapad, frowning a little. "I was told to give you total access to the Commander's things, but it says here that only members of the immediate family are allowed to—"

A flush of anger burned through Garrus's body. This kid didn't understand. No one did. They extended their sympathies and told him how sorry they were, repeated the same tired words he'd heard time and time again, as though doing so would somehow console him. She was an amazing woman. She gave her life to save us all. There will never be another Commander Shepard.

No. There wouldn't be. And that was the part that hurt the most.

"They're dead." Garrus said flatly. "Shepard's family. You would have known that if you paid attention to the news feeds."

That hurt, too. Every bit of Shepard's life, personal or otherwise, was being broadcasted across the galaxy for all to see. The reporters painted a picture of a martyr, a saint who arose from the slums of Earth to stop the Reaper threat against all odds, even if that meant sacrificing herself to do so. Commander Shepard was a hero. No one could deny that. What irked Garrus was that he knew the truth. He knew Shepard. He knew she didn't see herself as the goddess the reports made her out to be. She didn't want immortality. She wanted peace. She wanted an end.

This media frenzy wasn't an end. It was a bunch of people lunging for Shepard's coattails. After everything she'd done, didn't Shepard deserve to rest?

The color drained from the man's cheeks. His mask of Alliance-given authority faltered. He was a human being corrected by a turian about another human. A very famous human at that. Oh, the shame. He pressed something on his datapad and lifted his eyes to meet Garrus's. "You served on the Normandy with the Commander?"

"From the very beginning." Garrus answered, taking a small step toward the still locked doors. He seized the man's arm, yanking him forcibly from his post. "Since you seem to have a hearing problem, I'll explain this as clearly as I can. Listen closely. I don't like repeating myself."

The man nodded, visibly terrified.

"Shepard was everything to me." Garrus's voice adopted a harsh, hard tone. He'd been burying his agony for the last six months and now it was starting to rear its ugly head. This Alliance officer was only trying to do his job. It was unfair of Garrus to blame all his troubles on him, but he did it anyway. He couldn't help it. He was furious. He was so, so furious. "She was everything to me and now she's dead. The only things I've got left of her are sitting beyond this door and you've got the god damn nerve to tell me I can't go in? Do you know what it's like? Do you know what it's like to lose someone you love—not once, but twice? Do you know how that feels?"

The officer shook his head, his eyes wide. Wrong answer.

It took every single shred of self-control Garrus had to keep from blowing this kid's brains back against the wall. He wanted to make this insolent little bastard feel as badly as he did. He wanted this kid to know the pain he knew. He wanted someone to understand, to really understand, not just pretend like they did.

This isn't you, Garrus.

There it was again. Her voice. It made him pause, it made him think. This isn't you, Garrus. She that on Omega, when he let his demons get the better of him the first time. She was right then and she was right now. This wasn't him, yelling at innocent people, fantasizing about putting bullets between their eyes.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Garrus released the man and stepped back. Rage still burned wild within him—Garrus suspected it always would—but he no longer had the desire to commit a murder. It was a start, he supposed.

"I'm—I'm sorry." He murmured, talons scratching his palms. "I just…"

The doors swished open. The officer gestured inside.

"You're clear." He said. "Take all the time you need."

Garrus blinked. "Thank you."

"No problem. And Vakarian?"

Garrus stood in the doorway, looking out upon the small, nondescript cabin that served as Shepard's makeshift quarters during her brief stay on Earth, weeks before the Reapers attacked. The rest of the Alliance base was being rebuilt. This room was one of the few places that survived intact.

He didn't move. He couldn't. Not yet. "Yeah?"

The young man shifted on the periphery of Garrus's vision. "I know what it's like. To lose someone. My mom died here on Earth when the Reapers—My sister, too. They're…"

"Gone." Garrus finished for him. The Reaper War affected billions upon billions of people, both humans and aliens alike. There wasn't a single soul in the galaxy that hadn't lost someone. It was easy to forget when grief clutched you so tightly that you could scarcely breathe without feeling its sting. "I'm sorry."

That was all they could say to one another. "I'm sorry." It sounded cheap. Two words could never atone for the lives that'd been lost, but it was all they had…That, and silence. The kind of silence that bonded two beings together in immeasurable sadness.

"I would say it's okay, but it isn't." The haughty young boy with too much power and too much pride was gone. He wasn't an officer of the Alliance anymore. He was just a man, a child, really. A child who lost too much and knew too little. "It's never going to be okay, is it?"

"No," Garrus said. He crossed the threshold into Shepard's cabin. Her meager possessions were stacked in three separate boxes arranged neatly on a table in the middle of the room. Something pulled in his chest. This was it. This was all he had left.

"It isn't."

The first box contained an assortment of things—medals Shepard had received over the years, Alliance emblems—nothing too exciting. Garrus was about to give up on it completely when he saw a glimmer of something metal at the bottom. Curious, he picked it up. Dog tags. They clicked and dangled from their silver chain. The first one contained all of Shepard's vital information: Her name, her social security number, her blood type…

The second was different. Instead of displaying Shepard's info again, it…It had his. VAKARIAN, GARRUS. He wasn't Alliance. He wasn't a Marine. Then why did Shepard…

Then it hit him like a merc's gun to the face.

"There's no Shepard without Vakarian." Garrus realized. He ran a finger over the conjoined tags, letting Shepard's voice fill his head.

You'll never be alone.

He moved onto the next box. This one was much bigger than the first. Resting atop one of Shepard's many Alliance uniforms was what appeared to be a hologram projector. It was a small white cube with a single black button. Within its cramped confines resided a number of possibilities. Both terrified and excited about what the projector protected, Garrus put the tiny cube on the floor and pressed the button.

A full color version of the Normandy SR-1's crew appeared in front of him, exactly as it was in life. Everyone was there. Himself, Tali, Liara, Kaiden, Ashley, Wrex, Dr. Chakwas, even Joker…And then, standing directly at the center of it all, was Shepard. Garrus's breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. He never told her so at first, as he was reluctant to break the rigid chain of command. The more time he spent with her, the more he saw just how wonderful the famed Commander Shepard really was…

The less reluctant he became. It got to the point where he decided not to give a damn, to follow his instincts. And his instincts screamed for Shepard.

"Next," he told the projector.

The Normandy SR-2's crew appeared. Miranda, Jacob, Grunt, Thane, Samara, Jack, Legion, Mordin, Tali, Shepard, and, yet again, himself. Instead of standing at the end of the line like he had in the first hologram, Garrus had chosen a spot beside Shepard. She had the smallest of smiles on her lips, her hands clasped behind her back. He looked straight toward the camera.

"Next."

The SR-2's crew again, but this time, the overall posture was relaxed. Miranda and Jacob looked as though they were talking to one another. Tali waved to Legion. Mordin was studying his omni-tool. Jack had her arms crossed over her chest, her expression predictably pissed off. Thane remained stoic and empty eyed and Grunt looked like he was about to walk away.

Then there was Garrus and Shepard, stuck in the middle. Garrus remembered this moment, this moment the hologram captured so perfectly. He remembered Shepard, her small smile being directed up at him.

"Some family photo, huh?" She said.

Garrus laughed. "I dunno, it seems appropriate. Someone needs to pinch Jack, get her a little more pissed off. Then it'll really be authentic."

"Fuck off, Vakarian." Jack sniped back.

Shepard sighed, rested her head on his upper arm (she was a bit too short to reach his shoulder). "I don't think that'd be wise, Garrus."

"I never claimed to be wise," he replied quietly. He loved the feeling of Shepard's skin against. She was so soft, so lovely. "Only exceptionally talented. And stylish. And attractive."

Shepard's smile widened to a grin. That must have been when the projector flashed, because that's what the hologram captured. Her grin. That was one of the only times Garrus had ever truly seen her smile. And that smile, that rare twitch of her lips, was all for him.

"Next." Garrus could barely bring himself to say the word. He wanted to live in that hologram, he wanted to jump within its folds of light and stay there forever. He wanted to see Shepard smile again. He wanted…he wanted…he wanted too much.

The hologram vanished. In its place was a fourth and final image. Liara, Ashley, Cortez, Traynor, Joker, EDI, Chakwas, Tali, James, himself, and Shepard. Shepard's smile had gone away. There were dark circles underneath her blueish eyes and her brown hair hung limp at her shoulders. She looked exhausted. So did he. So did everyone, really.

It was a…fresh memory. He didn't like it.

"Close."

The projector shut off.

Garrus moved onto the last box on the table. He sifted through its contents like a synthetic. Mechanically and numbly. Nothing of import. Grabbing the dog tags, he slipped the chain around his neck and tucked the tags beneath his armor. He couldn't stay in this room anymore.

"Find anything?" The Alliance officer asked when Garrus exited.

"No," Garrus lied. He walked back down the dimly lit corridor, hands clenched at his sides. He didn't want to share what he found in Shepard's cabin. Those memories were his…and his alone.