AUTHOR'S NOTE:A much happier chapter this time. I feel like you guys deserve it after all the angst I've put you through. Oh, and don't forget to check out The Darkness and What Came Before It! It's an ongoing series of smaller stories that ties in with this one, detailing what happened to Charlie and Garrus and the rest of the crew before the Reapers attacked. Enjoy this chapter and thanks as always for reading.

She remembered Earth as it was before: Burning, bloody, broken. This new Earth was as foreign to her as the planet she'd been rescued from. The grass was growing, green as summer. The cloudless blue sky stretched overhead, punctuated by a yellow burst of sun. She squinted against it as she stepped off the shuttle. The second her boot touched the ground, a crowd of people swarmed her. Their hushed murmurs filled her ears, their hands reaching out to touch her as though she were some long forgotten relic for them to examine.

"Commander Shepard, how are you feeling?" One man shouted above the din. A million questions followed. How did she survive? What had she been doing? What was she going to do now that she was back on Earth?

"Alive," she answered the man, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "I feel alive."

The Alliance marines that delivered her home cleared a path for the Commander to enter a big, white building. She recognized this place. It was where she stood before the Citadel Council all those moons ago, urging them to act against the Reaper threat. They didn't listen and Earth was invaded mere minutes later.

Shepard pushed the memory away. Today was not a day for sadness. It was a cause for celebration. She was back. She was alive. And Earth was being rebuilt. What more could the Commander ask for? Well, she could think of one thing…

"In here, Commander." A marine said, motioning to a set of double doors.

Shepard followed his lead, stepping inside the building. She never could have guessed what happened next. They were waiting for her. Construction workers, government officials, long faced civilians—they stopped whatever they were doing and cheered. Thunderous applause erupted from every corner, every nook, every cranny.

Dumbfounded, Shepard stood there, flanked by her escort. All these people…They were here because of what she did, what millions of others helped her achieve. The sight nearly brought tears to her eyes. This euphoria of life made everything she'd done worth it. Everything, even dying (twice), was worth it. These people were worth it and so much more.

Though three months and one week on the shuttle helped heal her leg, the wound had festered long enough to become permanent. Shepard walked with a distinct limp, but she was determined to make the best of it. She wasn't a broken woman to these people. She was a hero and, damn it, she was going to act like it.

Shepard saluted the roaring audience. A reporter rushed over from the main lobby desk and shoved a microphone in Shepard's face.

"Is there anything you'd like to say, Commander?" The reporter asked.

One of Shepard's escort scowled, stepping between her and the reporter. "The Commander doesn't have time for a press conference right now. She's got to get to the medical—"

"No," Shepard said. "I'd like to say something."

The marine dared not question the woman who saved the galaxy. With a defeated nod, he moved aside. Smirking, the reporter gave Shepard the microphone. Shepard breathed in deep. Her public speaking skills had gotten a little rusty.

"Hello?" She muttered. Her voice boomed throughout the lobby. The crowd fell into an excited hush. Shepard squared her shoulders, striding to the middle of the room where she was sure everyone could see her. Hundreds of eyes watched, waited.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you again. All of you." She began. "There was a time when I thought I'd never…"

This wasn't going how she wanted it to. Sighing, Shepard tried again.

"Six months ago, when the Reapers invaded, I knew what I had to do. I had to do everything I could to stop them. And if that meant dying…I was okay with it. I was okay with dying, but I wasn't okay with seeing my people die. I wasn't okay with seeing turians or salarians or asari or batarians die. I wasn't okay with it, and neither were billions of others." The silence in the room reminded Shepard of the silence that followed her fall, the ethereal quiet that had consumed her for so long.

She pressed on. "So, when you see me, when you cheer for me…Remember yourselves. I didn't do what I did alone. I had help from every corner of the galaxy. Remember your sacrifices and remember those that gave their lives so that we could stand here today."

Shepard paused, eyes sweeping the crowd. How much have these people lost? She wondered. Too much. "I don't know why I'm still here, and maybe I don't need to know…But I just…I wanted to let you know, all of you…That I will continue to do everything I can to help the galaxy move forward. The Reapers were a test. A test that we, as a whole, passed. If we can pass that test, I believe we can do anything we set our minds to, so…Let's do it. Let's keep moving. Six months ago, the only direction we had to go was down. And now? We're rising up. And we're going to continue to rise up. For ourselves, for our children, for our dead, and for our future. Rise up, everyone. Rise up."

And they did. Everyone who was sitting down got to their feet and a shroud of noise cloaked Shepard in a feeling she hadn't experienced in months: Hope. It charged the air. It was seen on every face. Hope. They could win this next fight, they could overcome this next hurdle, and they could rise, better and stronger than before. Shepard believed that. These people believed that. And that, for now, was enough.

After her speech, Shepard was taken to the medical wing for a thorough examination. Her leg was fitted for a brace and she was given a fresh set of clothes, which consisted of a navy blue Alliance t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and some military issue boots. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn something so casual. When she was done changing, the doctor—a stern looking woman who reminded Shepard of Chakwas—asked her a series of questions.

They were simple at first.

"What is your name?" The doctor asked.

"Charlie Shepard." The Commander replied.

"When were you born?"

"April 11th, 2154."

"What is your favorite color?"

"Blue."

Then they got harder.

"What happened on Akuze?"

"…People died. Everyone died. Except me."

"You were given a choice on Virmire. Can you remember that choice, Commander?"

"…I-…I had to—Alenko. Kaiden Alenko. He stayed behind. He was…a good man."

The doctor tapped something on her datapad. She eyed Shepard carefully. "You helped the quarians regain their homeworld of Rannoch. What happened to the geth?"

Does this unit have a soul?

Shepard's hands clenched in her lap. "They're gone. All of them."

Taking note of the Commander's distress, the doctor decided enough was enough and cleared Shepard for release on the condition that she return every week for "cerebral exercises." She had no choice but to agree.

After the speech and the examination and the questioning, Shepard was shown to her cabin. It was a small room, a familiar room with all the ordinary trappings any marine would get. A bed, a desk, a decently sized aquarium filled with brightly colored koi. She'd stayed here before the Reapers came, back when humanity suspected her of committing war crimes with Cerberus. Everything was the same, except something…something was different.

There was a table. With three boxes, each one filled with her personal effects. Old medals, uniforms, a framed photo of Kaiden. Sitting on the floor behind the table was another box, a little white cube with a button on top. A hologram projector.

Shepard pushed the button. Her eyes widened as a fully formed image of the Normandy SR-1's crew flickered to life. She remembered taking this. It was Joker's suggestion, and she was pretty sure he was only kidding when he said it, but the others seemed to like the idea…

"Joker says we should do something to celebrate killing the Thorian." Shepard told the rest of the crew when they gathered in the communications room. "He said we should 'take a picture or something, so the rest of the galaxy will remember the badasses that saved an entire colony single handedly.'"

"I hated family photos when I was a kid." Ashley muttered.

"I think it's a good idea," Kaiden said.

Wrex scoffed. Liara nodded in agreement, as did Tali.

Garrus leaned back in his chair. "I think we deserve to be remembered."

"Everyone does." Shepard said. She stood up. "I guess we've reached a consensus. We'll meet on the bridge at 0800 hours. Bring your happy faces, people. Dismissed."

Back in the present, Shepard blinked the tears from her eyes. Joker hated her for taking his idea seriously. He complained when she told him to get up out of his chair and scowled when the projector flashed. She had been irritated with him then, but now…Shepard thanked every god she could think of that he suggested the picture. It was such a good memory, the hologram a window that peered into a simpler time.

Shepard sat down on the floor, crossing her legs.

"Next." She said. When the second image appeared, Shepard's smile was as wide as her hologram's.