Roarkshop Here: Finally the moment you've all been waiting for! I really hope you enjoy it! Because you've all been so supportive and patient I went ahead and made this chapter extra long for you guys!

Before you begin I just want to note that this chapter was probably the most challenging for me thus far. I wrote it probably a million times trying to stick to the original reuniting scene from Mass Effect 2, but it just felt fake considering how much history the two have with each other in my fan version. So I have strayed pretty damn far from the original scene, which I apologize for. For those of you who have been with me since the beginning, I hope that you will trust that I believe, sincerely, that you will enjoy my fan version better than the awkward one I was trying to dance around. I am very happy with the way this chapter turned out, and I hope that you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it. As always Private Messages, Reviews, and all other feedback is greatly appreciated and welcome. Check your PM Inbox for messages! And have a wonderful Monday! ^_^

Do I still have to keep saying that I don't own the characters and themes? Is Bioware really so insecure? This is all bioware. Derp.

"You... You're Archangel. Aren't you?" said the Salarian who had been hiding behind some crates during the shoot-out.

"Who wants to know?"

"I just uh... I saw what you did with those mercs, the ones transporting the red sand. I just wanted to thank you."

Archangel exhaled, eying the man up and down before answering.

"Why?"

"Well, the eclipse they... they killed my son. They pumped all that red sand into him to make him a biotic warrior and it killed him. I had been looking for a way to prove it, or to bring them down, but I just didn't have the know-how or the resources. I won't live long enough to find another breeding contract, so I'll likely never have another child, so thank you... for avenging him."

Archangel sighed through his nose and nodded saying nothing before turning away from the man.

"Wait," he said, pulling on his arm. "Take me with you."

"What?"

"Well, I don't have a lot of physical prowess...but I'm an artist with explosives. I can blow up half of Omega if I wanted to, or make an explosion so small no one would even know it happened until they noticed the safe was empty. All with chemicals that I can find at any supply shop or even in most peoples kitchens!"

"I can't endanger an innocent civilian to help me," he said.

"I'm not a civilian, nor am I innocent in any capacity."

Archangel studied the mans face, saw the darkness in it. He wondered almost idly if the salarian had spent time in the Special Tasks Group. Probably, if he was as good as he said he was.

"I'm not doing this for fun here," Archangel protested. "It's dangerous. I've almost died a few times now. Are you ready for that kind of burden?"

"It's nothing I haven't encountered before," he scoffed. "My only son is dead. What have I got left to live for?"

There was a long silence as that sank in.

"Alright, but I'm in no way condoning this."

Archangel said nothing else, just turned and walked away. The Salarian followed him back to base.

It flowed like a river after that, smooth and fast. They would do a big job, and a few others would see what they'd done and ask to join up. All of them with some kind of special skill that would benefit them as a group, each with a loss that they needed to avenge, each with a darkness of their own.

It was months before Sidonis found them. He was part of the merc group they had just annihilated, but there was something different about him.

"Just kill me," the turian pleaded. "I don't want to live like this anymore."

"You had a choice," Ripper, the batarian, said to him.

"Everyone has a choice," Archangel said.

"I didn't. Not at the time. They were going to kill my bond mate if I didn't work with them, they needed me for medical knowledge, and I needed Arillia to survive. Spirits, she was my whole world," he said, putting his head in his hands. "I don't have any combat skills to protect her with, or to fight the mercs off with. But it didn't matter. They killed her anyway, those sons of bitches." He slumped against the crate shivering. "Just get it over with," Sidonis whined.

The batarian raised his rifle to shoot. Archangel grabbed his arm. Wasn't this exactly what they were fighting to stop?

"We don't have a medic," Archangel said, kneeling down by Sidonis. "Do you want to avenge her?"

Sidonis was silent, analyzing Archangel's face.

"You bet your ass, I do."

Archangel held a hand out to him and helped him up.

"My name's Sidonis," he said.

Blam.

The shot woke Garrus from the sleep he had drifted into, and he jumped. It had been two days since he had started defending his position on the bridge. A full day since his last companion died. Months since he had a decent nights sleep. He had enough clips to last him a lifetime, but energy. His energy was waning.

They were really pulling out all the stops on this push. His hands danced over his rifle, idly changing out his clip. He looked at his shattered helmet to the side, the whole front of it in pieces from the ambush, it seemed like a metaphor for his life at the moment. He lifted himself up to see over the ledge, just long enough for his visor to focus: Four.

He returned to his sitting position and placed his hands. Then popped up and took all four targets out.

Blam. Blam. Blam. Blam.

He sank back down, angrily ejecting his heat sink and cursing to himself.

If he had just let Ripper shoot Sidonis, none of this would be happening. Stupid, soft, gullible turian.

How did I let myself get here, Shepard? How did everything go so wrong?

He hadn't really thought of Shepard in months. In fact, the last time he thought of her was a little less than half a year ago, when he had been explaining to the new guy why they never hurt innocent civilians. Her words had echoed in his head.

"If you don't care about the lives of the civilians, or the hostages, or any innocents, then you're no better than the people you're hunting. And if you don't care about them, why are you hunting in the first place? Is it because your pride is wounded? Or because they are horrible people who have done horrible things? If the fact that Dr. Saleon got away from you disgusts you more than the fact that he was growing body parts in live people, using them like test tubes, and throwing them away once he was done, then there is something seriously wrong, Vakarian."

That seemed so long ago now. Three years. He almost felt guilty for not having thought of her for so long.

But now that he was facing certain death, he couldn't think of anything else. A warmth filled him as he remembered the laughter, the playful jabs, the sheer joy in her eyes after killing a whole lot of something-or-other. He laughed to himself.

She told him once that he had the fire of a great leader. His men trusted him because of it, because she gave him the confidence to lead them. And he had gotten them all killed. Some homage to her he turned out to be. He wished he could blame her, that would make it easier.

He hadn't trusted anyone like her since. His merc band had his back, sure, but not like she did. It was completely different.

That's obvious, Garrus thought angrily. Since one of them betrayed us all, and got everyone killed.

He should have seen it. He should have known. Sidonis had always been cowardly. He cursed Shepard for being such a good person. Maybe if she had been a coward he would have known what to look for. Would have seen it coming.

But, no. Shepard was too good. Too benevolent. She would never have betrayed him. Or any of them, for that matter. So when Sidonis set the trap... he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for.

He laughed once, As his mind started drifting.

I guess this is my penance, Shepard, he thought. My penance for not being there to save you.

Shepard was pacing around the debriefing room after receiving news that the council was finally sending reinforcements. The citadel was fast approaching.

"What are you doin?" he asked as he leaned on the doorway, crossing his arms.

"Thinking," she said as she continued.

"More like hiding," he said.

She sighed and held the railing in her hands, putting her weight on her arms.

"Yeah," she said. "I suppose I am."

"You should know better than to think you can hide from me."

She half laughed, half scoffed, hanging her head.

"Is it Williams?"

"Yeah," she admitted with a sigh.

"Hey, you did the right thing," he said approaching her. "You can't keep beating yourself up."

"It should have been me."

"Don't," he interrupted. "Don't do that. You know it's not true."

"Isn't it? The council has finally come around, there's no need for me anymore. Ash had a family, Garrus. Sisters waiting for her to come home. Parents. Maybe a boyfriend or something. I don't have any of those things...I don't know." She exhaled. "I don't have any reason to be here other than to stop the reapers. And now that the council's heads have been effectively removed from their asses, they will do that, with or without me." She sighed and wrung her hands on the railing, making it creak. "Ash had people waiting for her. Her death will destroy those people. Who am I to put my life before hers? I don't have a family to disappoint. No one will miss me when I'm gone. Not really."

He reached out and turned her around, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

"That's not true, Shepard. I know a little quarian who thinks the world of you."

Shepard laughed, a defeated sound.

"And there's me," he said, lowering his head to try and catch her eye-line. "I told you my friendship is hard to shake once you have it. I know Tali and I may not be the most orthodox family in the galaxy. But we're yours... And we would be crushed without you."

After a long silence, she smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. He moved a curl out of her face, tucked it behind her ear, and held the side of her head as she moved into his arms. Like she always did.

"So don't think you can just up and leave us in some damn explosion."

Blam.

The shot brought him back to reality and he sighed, laying his head back on the crates behind him. Apparently she could up and leave them in a damn explosion, because that's exactly what she had done.

The despair started creeping up on him. He fought it down.

Grief is how you get yourself killed, he thought. He needed to stay focused. He needed to stay sharp.

He popped up again and killed two more mercs who had ventured over the wall. There were four behind it, three of them were, at least, smart enough to be in cover. The one that wasn't in cover was farther than most of his shots, but nothing he couldn't handle. He lined the cross-hairs over where the mans head was about to be, inhaled, held it, and squeezed.

The merc crumpled, headless, to the floor. He couldn't help but smile a little. It was a satisfying shot. No doubt Shepard would have said something snarky about it.

He turned and sank down to the floor again.

"Damn it, Shepard," he said to himself as he reached for another clip. "What would you be doing?"

"Teaching these mercs some god damn manners!" she replied, from a distance.

He laughed. It was just like her to say that.

Wait... what?

He froze in the reaching position he was in and blinked several times.

"She's with Archangel!" a merc cried before he made a weird gurgling sound. He popped up and looked over the ledge and saw two humans shooting at the mercs coming over the wall. One was a dark male, the other a barely armored female. His eyes darted around but he didn't see anyone else.

"Commander, wait" shouted the woman, reaching towards the building, her accent was one he didn't recognize. And it wasn't the voice he had just heard.

Then a scent hit him like a mallet to the face. Citrus. Earth.

It couldn't be.

Shots erupted from the other room. He got to his feet and made his way to the other side to look over the balcony. He held his rifle with one hand and gripped the concrete ledge with his other as he searched the room.

That's when he saw her.

She was approaching the stairs sideways, shooting the mercs coming from the bridge, when she noticed movement from above her. Her eyes flicked up briefly as if to quickly check for danger, when realization hit her face and she looked back up. Forgetting all threats, her posture straightened and her gun lowered slowly. Her hair was short now, and tucked behind her ears, stray strands decorating her brow carelessly, but the same brilliant red it had always been. The same vibrant green eyes looking up at him.

He was so stunned to see her, she might as well have had wings. How could this be happening? She was dead. Joker saw her die.

"Garrus..." she said more to herself than to him. It was so soft it sounded like a prayer. The sound of his name in her voice made his grip on the balcony wall tighten so hard his armored talons cracked the cement.

For the first time in three days, his rifle fell out of his hands.

Suddenly none of it mattered; the mercs, the time, the doubts. None of it.

Then, as if they had given each other some kind of silent cue, they were running.

"Garrus," she called as she ran up the stairs.

He couldn't get the door open fast enough.

"Shepard," he shouted, bursting out of the door, running to her like she would disappear if he didn't hurry.

She jumped into his arms, and they hit each other with such force that their armor crashed together and they spun in a half circle. Her scent swirled around him as he tucked his face into her hair while holding her up against his chest, one hand around her back, the other on the back of her head. The side of her face pressed up against the side of his, her arms wrapped around his neck, resting on his shoulder ridge. Her skin was cool against him. Her heartbeat raced under her flesh.

It was her. She was alive.

"I knew it was you," she said in a whisper.

"I thought you were dead," he replied, just as softly.

He didn't say any more. He couldn't think of anything else. If he opened his mouth, he feared the feeling in his chest would spill out of it. It took all his strength to fight the waves of relief crashing over him. The pounding of his heart. The blood coursing through him. The pure, unadulterated joy that surrounded them.

And so they remained for a long time, at least it felt like a long time, her feet dangling above the ground as he held her up. Her breath was hot on his neck, and he felt something wet on the side of his face.

The dark male and the unarmored female raced up the stairs and raised their weapons at him, his mandibles twitched, and he lowered Shepard to her feet at his side, raising his pistol with his free hand, his other still firmly wrapped around her. Protecting her. His instincts already reacting as if she had never left.

"Stop, all of you," she said, wiping a tear from her face and clearing her throat. She turned to Garrus, her body still pressed against him, her hands on his chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? You're supposed to be dead," he said.

"As if death could kill me, you should know better by now." He looked down at her, his eyes sketching even the most minor points of her face. Still trying to come to terms with her being alive.

The male crossed his arms. "What the hell is this?" he spat.

"Miranda, Jacob. Archangel is Garrus Vakarian." Garrus lowered his weapon, but didn't release his grip on it. Or her.

"You're old team mate? What are the odds?" the female said.

"More than team mate, by the looks of it," Jacob said sounding more snide than he had wanted to.

"Shut your god damn mouth, Cerberus," she said, pointing a gloved finger at him. "You have no idea what Garrus and I have been through together."

Blam. Blam. Blam.

The mercs were closing in.

"Everyone, in here," Garrus said, leading them all back into his snipers nest, locking the door behind them.

"How did you get yourself here, Garrus?" she asked.

"It's a long story. I will tell you the whole damn thing if we get out of here alive. Where in the hell have you been?"

"My story's probably longer, or shorter depending on how you look at it," she said with, what looked like, an embarrassed grin. That's when he noticed the eerie cybernetics scar running the length of her face, and the darkness around her eyes. "You're right," she continued. "We can do all this later. Right now, we're in a war zone and need a plan."

"We can't just sit here and wait for them to come to us," Jacob said indignantly.

"It's not all that bad. This place has held them off so far, and with the three of you? I say we hold this position until there's a crack in their defenses, then make a break for it."

"I was never very good at sneaking anyway. Let's spill a little merc blood."

"If there is one thing you lacked, it was definitely subtlety." His mandible clicked as he looked down at her again. It was like she never left. "Glad to see you haven't changed," he said.

And for the first time in the longest time, a smile came to him naturally.

"Well... they had to use their brains eventually," he said as he tried to override the shutters from his omni-tool.

"I'll go," Shepard said. "Soldier Boy, with me. Lawson, stay with Garrus, keep him alive."

"Fine," she spat. "But I don't think this is a good idea."

"Your opinion has been noted and disapproved," she said before gripping the front of Garrus' armor and pulling him down to eye level, like she had done when they first met. That old military tone she had always used ripe throughout her tone. "I didn't come back from the dead and find you just for you to die on me, you understand?"

"Yes ma'am," he rumbled with a smile.

The edges of her lips twitched like she was fighting down a smile. Then, she turned to leave with Jacob. He watched her go. Observed her gait. The same old swing of her hips, the same old confidence in her stride. It had to be her. It had to be.

He rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding his rifle and took a moment to try and figure out what the hell was going on. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was dead already.

"I'm sure this is rather hard to deal with," the woman said.

"Yeah," he replied, having totally forgotten she was even there.

"You don't seem very happy to have her back."

"She's been dead for two years," he snapped. "I don't even know if she's the same person anymore."

"She is. She has been brought back to her complete original state," she said, sounding more prideful than Garrus though she aught to. "She's back to being her old self."

"I'll be the judge of that," he said eying the woman up and down. Spirits, she was grotesque. "What is that ghastly getup? You know we're in the middle of a shoot-out, right? Do you just hate armor that doesn't exaggerate your curves or does Cerberus teach you to dodge bullets really well?"

"I have to put up with that crap from Shepard, I don't need to take any of it from you, turian!" she said tossing her hair.

Holy hell, he thought. Williams got reincarnated with huge teeth.

He tried not to laugh.

"How about I'll stop pretending I know anything about you, and you stop pretending you know anything about Shepard. Deal?"

"But I do know Shepard. I spent two years of my life learning everything there is to know about Shepard. I have an entire cabinet full of folders and backgrou-"

"What's her favorite color?" he interrupted.

"I... what?"

"Her favorite color. If you know her so well, what is it?"

"I didn't mean that I-"

"Red. How many bones had she broken before she died? Twelve. How does she like her coffee? Trick question, she hates coffee. Rain makes her sad, she has a horrible sense of direction, and her compassion is endless. She isn't just her past or files and charts or whatever it is you think you know about her. She's a person and weather or not she's been returned to the 'original' will be for those who knew her to decide," he huffed. Then waited a beat. "And no one knew Shepard like I did."

Miranda looked shocked at first, but then anger set in her face. She opened her deformed mouth to speak, no doubt, but was thankfully interrupted by gun fire.

Saved by the bullets, Garrus thought. Mark that with one of the things I thought I'd never say.

"God Damn it!" Shepard cursed over the comm as the sound of the second hangar being shut wailed in the distance. "Who in the blue hell would give a vorcha a flame-thrower? Honestly. I mean what the fuck! That's like giving a Krogan a newborn infant and saying 'here ya go, big guy, don't fuck it up!' Christ. I've been dead for two years and no one got any smarter?"

"Alright," Garrus said chuckling, lining up a shot. "Maybe it is her."

He faded in and out of consciousness after he caught the gunship's missile with his face. He only remembered details. Shepard's scent, a blurred voice, shouting, white hallways. Next he knew he heard the beeping of machines. His face was on fire. Shepard was screaming.

"Garrus," she screeched. "Garrus, no!"

The desperation in her tone was what brought him out of the haze. His eyes snapped open, and his survival instincts immediately went into overdrive. His vision was so blurred he could hardly make out colors. He smelled sanitizer, antiseptic, his blood, human sweat, fear...

Shepard...

He enraged. He needed to protect her. He wasn't going to lose her again. Sitting up, an unconscious growl emanated from deep within his chest. He looked around, but still only really saw blurred shapes. He felt tension pulling on him, something in his arm pulling him back, hands around his shoulders and wrists, restraining him.

"Don't leave me, Garrus," she cried. Her voice was so desperate. So afraid. He saw the red of her hair in the distance, and only then started to be able to see defined shapes as his vision slowly cleared.

The resistance on his arms infuriated him, he lunged an arm, hoisting the weight of the crewman trying to restrain him so he flew and crashed into a tray of machinery. With his hand free he reached over to the other assistant restraining him, and grabbed the front of his shirt. He pushed him back and then pulled him in, lunging his forehead into the mans nose. He heard the crunch of the cartilage in the mans face breaking and smelled the sudden overflow of unfamiliar human blood. He looked down at the tube in his arm, he could see it almost clearly. He ripped it out and tried to stand as his eyes finally found her. The sight made blood boil under his skin.

She was being restrained by the dark skinned human and two other men he didn't recognize.

Threats. All of them.

His talons ached to rip into them. She had his scent all over her, she was covered in his blood up to her elbows. Her throat was tense with her screams. Her face poured determination as she tried to free herself from the hands restraining her. She was calling for him. She was in trouble. She was frightened...

He wouldn't stand for it.

Shepard didn't recognize anyone else in the room, the madness in her reached an apex as she saw the blood, heard the beeping of the machines, watched him die. Everything was blurred. She told herself that it was just another nightmare. Just reliving that terrible night back on earth. It had to be.

Their eyes met, and his breath huffed in his chest. No one dare try to restrain him again. His savagery paralyzing them in their tracks.

Jacob raised his pistol at the turian and Shepard howled at him, an animal like sound ripping from her throat. She wrung her hand out of the other crewman's grasp and flung her fist across the distance to his face. He fell to the ground with an outraged cry of pain. She didn't recognize him. No one else mattered.

When he started to make his way to her, everything changed. He wasn't a helpless friend she had failed to protect. He was a killer. He was vicious. He was lethal. His eyes danced around the room, assessing every threat, promising a terrible fury. His talons were open and primed. The sound he was making was feral.

His steps were slow, but purposeful, as he closed the distance between them in the med bay. Blood dripped from his right mandible onto the bare plates of his chest as it clicked with his anger. He was daring someone to come between them.

Something in her ignited.

Dr. Chakwas threw herself in front of her, making herself a road block between them, grasping her hard on the shoulders, shaking her.

"Jane," Chakwas insisted. "Snap out of it, girl. Your psychosis is going to have to wait. If he doesn't calm down we can't help him. Listen to me!" She shook her again. "Jane, he's going to die if we don't help him!"

"What? I …." she blinked several times, reality forcing its way back into her brain. Her senses finally started clearing. She put her hand on her head, which was pounding now. What was happening to her? Why was she losing control so easily? Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

That's when she saw Garrus over the doctor's head, and her knees started trembling as she saw the blood, realized what a dire situation they were in. His rage-filled eyes focused on Chakwas. No recognition in them. He was assessing a new threat, raising a primed talon over her head and bringing it down. Her reflexes sent the hand that was holding her head up to catch his wrist fractions of a second before his talons tore into the doctor. He looked at her, furious confusion in his face. She pushed the doctor out of the way.

"Garrus," Shepard said holding onto his wrist. But she didn't know what else to say. How was she supposed to get through to him? He was dying. His base instincts had kicked in to help him survive a threat he couldn't understand. She had to help him. She was going to lose him. "Oh god," she said, shivering frantically, not knowing what to do. The powerlessness infuriated her.

Get a grip, God damn it!

Sensing her fear, his arm wrapped around her hips and pulled her towards him protectively. He leaned toward the men who had been restraining her and roared, the most vicious sound she had ever heard, raising his free talon at them. Fully prepared to shred them into thin strips. The men cowered under his overwhelming rage.

"Garrus, it's Shepard," she said, reaching up and putting a hand on either side of his face. It was slick with his blood. "Don't do this, I need you to calm down." She tried to sound strong but she was so afraid. She tried to bite it down. She tried.

Her proximity to him interrupted his anger. The intensity of his growl lessened almost immediately upon meeting her eyes, it sounded like an idling engine. His hand, which had been raised to threaten the assistants, fell to hold her hand against his face.

"Garrus, you're safe. I'm safe. Everything is okay."

His eyes darted around, questioning what she said.

Their faces were mere inches apart as she looked up at him, his blood dripping down the front of her shirt, her free hand fell from his face, down his neck and onto his shoulder, hoping she was being comforting, trying to stop how she trembled.

God damn me, she thought. This was all her fault. If she had stayed calm she wouldn't have made his instincts kick in. But it was so real to her. Back on Earth, watching her closest friend die on the god damn operating table. Her weakness had finally gotten the better of her.

And it was unforgivable.

Now she had to undo it somehow. It was akin to trying to force a bullet train going full speed into reverse.

"Please," she begged desperately. The tears choked in her throat. "They need to help you. Garrus, please, I can't let you die."

There was a long pause. Everyone in the room frozen. The rumble from his chest the only discernible sound. His hands moved to grip her hips and he loomed over her, pulling her into him, his predatory blue eyes searching hers. Analyzing them for truth.

"Promise me," he said with an angry exhale. His words were almost inaudible within the low growl still resounding from his chest. "Promise me that you're safe."

"I'm safe, Garrus. I promise," she hurried. "Please calm down, I can't do this without you."

His head lowered beside hers and he nuzzled the side of her face with the unwounded side of his. Her toes curled unconsciously as her heart sped up, her ears were hot, and she exhaled sharply. He spared a glance at the people around them. The tension in his shoulders eased under her hands.

"If anything has happened to you," he said slowly, lifting his head again to look at her. "I had better not wake up, because I will kill everyone on this vessel."

His strength was waning as the adrenaline started wearing off. Unconsciousness threatened him.

"I understand," she said, holding his face again. "I will be here, Garrus."

He nodded, satisfied. He exhaled through his nose and his eyes rolled. His strength gave way, bringing him to his knees. She tried to support him, but he was massive. Chakwas deftly injected his neck with a sedative and the humans around the room hefted his unconscious form back onto the bed. The assistants who were well enough immediately started surgery.

She sat there on the ground, her hands and arms stained bluish purple from his blood, her hands on her knees, shivering.

Regardless that she had punched him in the face moments ago, Jacob offered a hand to help her up, his jaw already bruising. Miranda had drilled him enough on her fragile mental state, he wasn't going to hold a grudge.

"I'm sorry," she said looking at him, then around the room. "Everyone. I'm so sorry, I don't... he didn't...That wasn't him."

"We know," Chakwas said, helping her up with Jacob. "You need to sleep, Jane. You're dangerously close to a psychotic break."

Shepard ignored the last part.

"Is he going to die, Doc?"

"No," she assured. "Now that we've got him sedated the repair should be extensive, but manageable. His predator instinct to protect you was... profound."

She didn't know what to say to that, other than all this chaos had been her fault. She needed to keep her emotions in check. It had never been a problem in the past. She looked around the room at the concerned faces, so many thoughts running through her mind. She needed to think.

"Don't worry," the doctor said. "You just need to sleep."

Shepard thought she felt a pinch in the side of her neck, but was concentrating too hard on trying to stop shivering to really notice.

"Thank you," she said as her vision fogged. "All of you."

How did I become so weak, she thought as her strength slowly gave way. She vowed to herself then that it would be the last time she let her emotions take control of her. It was too dangerous. Whatever came, she would keep it inside, bottle it up, keep it from hurting anyone. She couldn't let what just happened happen again.