.

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

And no one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies

No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do,
And I blame you!

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

No one knows what it's like
To be mistreated,
To be defeated
Behind blue eyes

No one knows how to say
That they're sorry
And don't worry
I'm not telling lies

But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance
That's never free

Limp Biskit – Behind Blue Eyes

Chapter 10 ~ The price of a decision

"Name?"

The turian customs officer in front of me droned with the soulless tone usually reserved for hotline operators. To my left Garrus explained something to the asari manning the other counter, causing her to beam like a nuclear incident. She was aiming it hard for anorexic porn-star, complete with the surgical enhanced rack and the shoddy lipstick job.

"Shepard. Ivy Shepard," I said with a calm, confidence inspiring voice and the officer frowned.

Maybe I should also try it the other way. Like my XO, who leaned with her arms on the counter of a rental beyond the security lock, shamelessly flirting with the clerk for one of the last available skycars, AND giving the line behind her something to look at in her short cherry-red jacket and skintight jeans. Miraculously, she still managed to give off that professional vibe.

Idly, I let my fingers play along the collar of my black, calf-long leather duster, shooting the officer a warm smile and a wink.

"You see Officer –" I glanced at the plate. "– Averius, I would really appreciate it if we can make it… quick."

He stared at me… confused? A bit disgusted? Whatever it was, it was about as far from being intrigued as an amoeba from a space program.

I snatched my fingers away from my hem and stifled a frustrated groan. Yes, yes. With my leathers and sexy bruises I probably looked like I had a bunch of vampires to impale. Together with the gray tank-top, the sturdy black pants and my well used combat boots they made for a dramatic fashion statement, shrouding me in an air of innocent inconspicuousness. Not.

"Ah-hem. Shepard, Ivy," the Officer coughed and repeated slowly as if I was dimwitted. "Arrival at Docking Bay C36. What did you say was the name of the ship you came with?"

Someone please kill me now.

"Mandy," I replied strangled. "MSV Mandy."

The object of ridicule. Miranda sooo had it coming. In spades, y'know.

"That's right. You spell it like 'Normandy,'" I then heard Officer Wise-Ass stating from my left with a too smooth chuckle. "Just without 'Nor'."

The asari bobbed her head and giggled. I imagined to hear her pea-sized brain rattle like a marble in an empty tin jar. Good god. And now imagine that even someone like her had to hump their way down to get this position and you will feel my misery.

"If you will look here," my customs officer demanded, clearly annoyed that I wasn't giving him his rightful attention.

I turned with a sigh to face the small drone now hovering before me. Its biometric camera scanned my iris.

The turian cleared his throat. "Ma'am? I'm terribly sorry but I can't clear you. My files say you're deceased. Corpses and other remains can only be processed at Docking Bay H21 or alternatively G7."

Oy. Hear that? I think we just hit rock bottom. "This might come as some sort of surprise, but you are aware that we are talking. With each other. Right now?"

He shrugged. "Be it as it may, but these are the regulations. No dead beyond this point." He said and pointed ostentatiously at the yellow line in front of the security post twenty paces behind.

For a moment I considered making a run for the line just for the hell of it, but yeah. Getting arrested with my face pressed to the dirty floor was the last thing I needed right now.

"Please. If you would step aside? You're blocking the line," the turian officer said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

I turned around. There was no one sight. Peeved I whipped back. Beyond the yellow line two turian C-Sec officers stirred. One of them nudged the other and pointed at me. Peachy. Just damn peachy. I jammed my hands deeper into the pockets of my coat and stalked off, fuming.

Garrus walked over, a smirk plastered on his face. That simpering idiot had obviously managed to get her two brain cells together and process his ID. "I told you so," he said, spreading his hands. "This is the pulsing heart of establishment folly."

"One word. One more word and I swear I'm going to punch you." I growled and rubbed the band-aid taped over my left brow where the maw's acid had burned an ugly line through it.

The turian snorted, my ingenious threat bouncing off from him like dry beans from a wall. Instead he added in this insufferable husky voice that tried very hard to make me abandon all of my moral standards on the spot, "I would like to see you try, Shepard."

"Really? A challenge?" I shot back and arched my eyebrow at him. "Are you so eager to get a rubdown?"

I hadn't really said that, had I? I looked around, but the closest hard surface to bang my head against was either the turian's chest or Officer Averius' front desk – both definitely a no-brainer.

A smug tone crept into his words. "You are good, Shepard. But not that good."

Oh yeah? "I have two words for you, Vakarian: try me," I said and leveled him with a gaze that was part don't-you-dare-challenging-me and part I'll-jump-your-bones-if-you-don't-go-away. Heaven help me.

He stared back, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Deal."

"Shepard? Commander Shepard?" An elderly C-Sec officer suddenly called out and made his way past the security point. I jumped on the diversion with both feet.

"Yes?" I asked quickly.

"Captain Bailey." He said and shook my hand. "Councilor Anderson informed me about your arrival. He asks you to meet him and the Council immediately."

I turned to Garrus, who all off a sudden didn't look too happy. "Hey, why don't you go ahead, Garrus? I'll catch up with you later." The turian gave me a small nod and dashed off.

"Do you have troubles?" Captain Bailey asked with a glance toward the customs counters.

"I'm listed as dead so…"

He chuckled. "I see. It's turning into a pretty popular tax dodge these days. I will take care of this. Won't take a minute."

"I might also need an update of my fingerprints." I said, thinking of my new lab-grown skin.

He inclined his head. "We can take them at the security post and the Councilor can authorize the update. If you will follow me." Captain Bailey said.

I marched after him to the security lock, waving at Officer Averius who looked three steps shy of an apoplexy out of sheer indignation.

I stepped into the narrow aisle and the blue rays of the full body scanner washed over me. A red LED blinked anxiously at the console.

"Do you carry any firearms? They have to be registered." The turian C-Sec officer overlooking the console asked and I frowned.

"Since when do Spectres need to register their weapons?" I asked, wondering if the Council was really ignorant enough to risk a repetition of the events a few years back, when the then salarian Councilor opted for a stricter regulation of arms. It was the closest the Citadel ever came to open riots.

The officer gave me an impatient look. "They don't. You do."

I glanced at Bailey, who just shrugged and gestured at me with the universal signal for 'get on with it'. The second C-Sec officer watched me carefully, his hand already gripping his pistol. I sighed inwardly. Tax excuse, my ass. This just sucked dishwater.

"Alright then," I said resigned and slowly pulled my Carnifex from the holster inside my coat.

The C-Sec officer nodded and pointed to a tray to my right. "You are allowed to bring no more than two pieces of small arms, three if you have a special permit. No explosives, no rocket launchers, and most certainly no nukes. And no, we do not care if they come with a red bow and are 'just a birthday present' for some old aged relative..."

.~'*'~.

"Peace, Commander," Tevos, the asari councilor, said in a way too appeasing tone. "Technically, you haven't done anything illegal or objectionable –"

The unspoken 'not yet' was so blatantly obvious, she could just as well have written it on a card board and slapped me with it.

" – and we do appreciate your efforts at being discreet about the situation, but as it is we can't help you."

"Please understand," the salarian, Valern, added, "we are grateful what you did when thegeth attacked the Citadel, however your new friends are problematic. We can't allow that any involvement in their activities falls back on us."

Sure. Geth. My ass. I glared at the three councilors, linked into Anderson's office via hologram.

"Have you been listening at all?" I forced my voice into calm and clasped my hands behind my back. Reasoning with this lot was like trying to herd narcoleptics through a mattress store. Exertive, frustrative and ultimately futile. "This isn't about Cerberus. The Reapers are real. They are coming. The Collectors –"

"Nonsense!" Sparatus barked. "Collectors, Reapers, there is no real proof to any of those tales! I say this is just some Cerberus scheme to distract us."

I stared at the turian councilor, my nails digging into my wrist.

"Sparatus might be harsh, but he is right," the asari added once again with the gentle voice and the pitiful look reserved for the imbecile. It drove me to the edge of my patience. "What guaranty do we have that you're even telling the truth?"

My eyes narrowed. And what guaranty do I have that you won't shove a gun into your mouth and pull the trigger?

"I vouch for her credibility," Anderson hastened to say. "I know her reports sound farfetched, but ask yourself – can we actually afford to ignore a possibly danger of that extent?"

Tevos tapped her lip with her finger, but the turian snorted in a way that made quite clear what he thought about Anderson's opinion. I stiffened, anger stirring in me. Anderson made a small motion with his hand, telling me to stand down. This wasn't going too well and he knew it.

So I just smiled at the Council, aiming for cordial. Next to me I heard Anderson groan faintly and I caught my reflection in the tinted window to my left. Yep, very little cordiality, but therefore lots and lots of deranged maniac.

The three shared a look and the asari sighed. "Perhaps there is need for someone to investigate further… Very well. As a gesture of goodwill from our side, we agree to restore your Spectre status. Not officially, of course, but it will at least allow you to move more freely in Citadel space and who knows? Perhaps you will actually find proof for your claims."

"Well, thank you then," I said through clenched teeth.

"Don't think we won't watch you, Spectre," Spartatus growled and pointed at me challengingly. "Because we do. Closely."

I glared back unblinking until they cut the connection.

Anderson exhaled audibly. "Well. It could have turned out worse."

I rubbed my temples, feeling drained. "Right. But just barely."

Then I studied the man, who had been my mentor for so many years and the closest to anything resembling family I had. Right after visiting Freedom's Progress, I had send Anderson a message alongside with Veetor's recordings, and I had done it only in part to rile the Illusive Man. Now however… A sick feeling crept into my stomach. Had I made a mistake?

"I was on Horizon. Kaidan was there…"

He hesitated then he motioned me to follow him to the balcony. "Yes. After Cyrene and Freedom's Progress went silent, we sent him there to install a new defense system."

"The GUARDIAN would have made a nice welcome, even for the Collectors." If the colony only would have had more time.

"That was the plan. We never suspected them to hit Horizon next."

I nodded. It made no sense. Of course, if you'd take it into account that the Collectors were tagging Kaidan specifically it all of sudden made perfect sense.

I rested my arms on the metal rail and watched the vista over the artificial lakes. There was hardly any damage left from the Sovereigns' attack two years ago.

My voice sounded small and I hated it. "You could have told me that he was there…"

Our eyes met and Anderson regarded me for a long moment. "It was a classified operation. Even if the transmission would have been routed through sufficiently secure channels I couldn't have done it. You know the ropes."

I did. And it grated me even more. "Anderson? What about you? You do believe me, right?"

This time he did not hesitate and I was infinitely grateful for it. "Yes. Yes I do."

"Can't you just tell them? They're making a mistake. Again."

He laced his fingers together, giving me the suffering look that told me he had been there and gotten nothing but a bloody nose for his troubles.

"It's not that easy, Shepard. They're good people but they're politicians, not soldiers. Regardless what they say, your reports had unsettled them. They just try to handle the situation the best way they know."

"By ignoring all those terribly inconvenient facts? Please, Harbinger itself could materialize in the middle of the Chamber and they would just hurry to cover their eyes and ears."

"They're worried. And they don't have the luxury of knowing you like I do. I know I can trust your reports."

Elbows prodded on the balcony's railing, I rubbed my fingertips against my forehead, suppressing a sigh. "Maybe. But all I know is that many good people will pay the price for their doubts."

"It's all we can do for now. If you find anything more concrete send it over. Between me and Udina we should at least be able to convince them that the Citadel needs to keep an eye out as well."

"Sure."

I had a feeling we would rather get a Popsicle in biblical Hell.

~V~

The faint drone of the massive air vents was the only sound that interrupted the silence of the servicing level, high above the bustling life of one of Zakera Ward's countless apartment areas.

Utterly unperturbed by my presence, a lone Keeper went on with its never-ending maintenance, side-skirting me as if I was just another piece of tech. I watched the aisle leading to a lone apartment door, arms prodded on the guardrail, Mantis ready. My thumb brushed the small nick above the trigger. Once I had deflected a blade. A blade meant for him…

Soon.

Below me, Shepard sat on a bench against the wall, her coat folded on the seat beside her. She had crossed one thigh over the other, bobbing her booted foot while browsing idly through a magazine. Her loose hair was coiling against her too fragile collarbone, exposed by the round neckline of her gray shirt. A strand of hair had fallen forward and she absently tugged it back. Waiting. It was such a convincing display of innocuous femininity, it almost fooled you into forgetting about the butt end of the Carnifex that stuck out from below her coat and the yellow bruises and abrasions marring one side of her face. A chunk of ice formed in my chest at the memory. It had been a really close call.

Every once in a while she raised her head slightly, peering upwards in my general direction. Her face was calm but she seemed caught in her own troubling thoughts. Ever since we left Tuchanka a few days back, this was becoming more the rule and less the exception. There was already so much on her plate… Perhaps I really shouldn't have roped her into this as well. I should have come alone, taken the shot and vanished…

Inacceptable.

He would have simply died, too quick and too merciful; never realizing what was happening. And the truth was I wanted him to know. I wanted to watch the fear creep into his eyes, to see the very moment when he realized that he would pay for what he'd done. That was why I needed her. To be the herald of my vengeance. She would tell him exactly who had come for him.

Suddenly a familiar shape appeared in the aisle and the world around me slowed as my awareness was compacted into one single thought:

Sidonis.

Anger, cold and controlled, simmered in me; distilled and sharpened in countless sleepless nights.

Now! Mierin's voice commanded, and I suppressed it with a shiver, stilling my finger that stroke along the trigger. We had to wait. He needed to know first!

Before he reached the apartment's door, Shepard called out and halted him. He turned around and she walked up to him, her gun tugged into the hem of her pants at the small of her back. I smiled. There was nothing innocuous about her now. Sidonis' face was gaunt and ashen, a haunted edge deeply ingrained into his features. As if he hadn't slept properly in weeks.

Broken. Broken by guilt…

No! It changed nothing!

Instead I watched them through the scope of my Mantis. Shepard had turned off her radio and I couldn't hear her words but – I could read his face. For a moment shock rippled over it as if someone had slapped him. The corners of my mouth twitched. She had delivered my message. And then he just slumped down. He didn't try to run. He didn't argue. His haggard gaze met mine over the scope and there in his eyes was the sickening truth I neither expected nor wanted to see: relief.

That's it? Damn you, Sidonis! Why? WHY?

But of course there was no answer.

"Move, woman…" I muttered under my breath and watched the back of the Spectre's head through my scope. She stood too close to the traitor to allow me a clean shot.

Suddenly she grabbed Sidonis' arm. Still blocking my firing line. "Blast! What the hell are you doing, Shepard?"

Why wasn't she moving? A sinking feeling crept up on me. Oh no. She wouldn't do this… not after I told her what had happened. Not after she knew how important this was. How different from anything else…

And then her hand moved towards her earpiece and her voice whispered through the radio, saying the words I dreaded to hear: "Garrus… Don't do this…"

A thin red veil fell over my vision. Anger erupted and roared inside me like a caged and wounded beast. How dared she? Telling me to back off when my target was so close? How could she?

"Vakarian! Stand down and look at him, for fuck's sake! Can't you see that he is already paying his price?" The last almost sounded pleading. But of course the likes of her would never do such.

Sidonis still stood there. Motionless. Crestfallen. No more than a husk of his former self. Silently awaiting the redemption only the oblivious embrace of death could give. Perhaps letting him live was the greater punishment after all. No! I couldn't succumb to weakness now. I promised to avenge them! Promised to spill his blood for theirs!

"It's. Not. Enough…" I hissed; so cold and full of hate, I barely recognized myself.

Shoot her, the sweet familiar voice of my revenge coaxed. Do it. Just a tiny grazing shot... She will learn. This is not her decision.

"Dammit Garrus! You kill him and then what?" Shepard picked up once more. "It won't bring them back!" And then softer, "It won't make the pain go away either… It… it never does..."

Vigorously, I pushed her words away and moved the crosshairs from my initial target. Praying that she wouldn't turn around and look at me. I emptied my mind of every thought. Of every emotion. Made way for Archangel to step in and fulfill his blood oath.

"Sometimes we have to do the wrong things for the right reasons…" I bega softly, nausea riling my stomach as a small piece of me rebelled against what was about to happen. "You of all people should understand that…"

Forgive me, little Spectre. But you're too late to save me.

And then this small piece howled in agony and something in me died.

~V~

I sat on the floor, hugging my knees and staring out of the window of Port Observation, where the bleakness of the dark and cold space was forming a perfect unity with my stellar mood. Forgotten in my hand, I moved the glass in slow circles, causing the amber-colored liquid to swirl in its vitreous prison. It was late and the solitude helped me to calm down. Sort of.

Nice going, Shepard. Are you happy now?

Yeah right. I'd seen Sidonis' haunted face and had known. If Garrus killed his former friend, it would eventually destroy him. Would push him even deeper into this dark, sardonic version of himself; consumed by hate and the need to avenge. I couldn't bear it. Not if there was any chance for me to spare him that fate.

A fate, I knew too well. Vengeance and me, we were old friends. I knew its luring pull, its whispered promise that if you succumbed just one more time… and so you just kept killing and killing, always hoping that the pain would eventually go away.

It was all a lie.

I slid up my hand and rubbed my bandaged left upper arm through the sweat jacket. Merely a graze, but fuck me, it hurt. My reasoning, that had seemed so righteous, so crystal clear when I stood between his barrel and the one who betrayed him, felt only shallow and hypocritical now. He was a turian. What right had I to judge him by my human ethics? To interfere in matters that had nothing to do with me and everything with him seeking a way to banish his demons? Just because – what? Because I was scared?

Because it hurt to watch him turning into me?

No wonder the inevitably happened. I screwed up. With all my best interests and oh-so fantastic reasons. Sidonis was dead and Garrus would never forgive me for trying to stop him. It was that simple. I riled him to the point of shooting me and then he had left. No yelling, no arguing, no nothing. By the time I had picked myself up and dragged my sorry ass back to the ship, he was gone.

A conflicting tangle of emotions constricted my chest. I felt guilty for letting my friend down; sad and deprived because he simply walked away from me; and angry like hell because I had allowed that turian to get so close. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was what you got from attaching yourself to others – sooner or later you waded in too deep and before you knew it you had handed those people the power to bring you misery. What was wrong with me that I just could not keep my distance any longer?

I heard the door opened behind me and I turned my head, peeved at the interruption of my stroll down self-pity lane.

It was Thane.

He stood in the frame, poised with his usual polite hesitation. So far I had successfully avoided most of the crew since returning to the Normandy, leaving it to Miranda and Joker to prepare our departure. Then I had been raging in hangar for hours, hit the punching bag until my arms and legs had felt leaden with exertion and – oh boy. I had yelled at Kelly just for asking if I was alright. I sighed, giving myself another mental smack. I had acted like a royal asshole the whole evening. It had to stop right now. Commander Shepard was better than this.

I waved at him to come in. "Thane. No sleep for you, either?"

"Sleep is for those, who can actually afford the loss of time…" he said utterly calm as usual and looked at me in question.

I gestured for him sit next to me and he got down in one fluid motion.

"Attempting to drown my sorrows had always been a lesson in futility..." He continued with his raspy voice and nudged the empty bottle at my feet. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, yeah, another Mother Chakwas. Just what I needed.

"It's helping me to find at least some sleep. You know, keeps the nightmares at bay. Mostly."

"I understand. It must be strange to have no control over your dreams. Especially if they are bad."

"You can control what you dream?"

He inclined his head. "Usually yes. It is tied to our eidetic memory. Unfortunately that doesn't mean that all dreams are pleasant, just as not all of our memories are. But we can influence them to some extent. Of course on the other hand, it means that our dreams are less inclined to reveal what our subconsciousness is telling us."

I chuckled without mirth. "Yah. Could totally do without that one."

"You're certainly a woman of many burdens."

"Wow. That's a nice way of saying I have lots of issues."

He lifted his hands in defense, a tiny smile accompanying his words. "I apologize. That was not what I intended to say. But I understand it must be… difficult to be returned from Kalahira's shores."

I frowned. Who had told him? Somehow some sort of 'official' version had established itself among the Crew; one in which I had just been wounded as fuck, nicely glossing over this horrid coming-back-from-death business. Even those few who actually knew better seemed more than happy to stick to the lie instead of facing reality.

"Well, I function. What more can a girl like me ask for?" I said with a shrug and another gulp of good ol' memory wiper. Never claimed I wasn't one of those who shied away from the ugly truth.

The twin set of lids blinked. "I see. Shepard, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When you realized you would die… haven't you wondered about the paths you have taken in your life? About the decisions you should have made differently?"

The denial was on my tongue almost instantly. I still hesitated. True, there had been no such thing like watching my own life passing me by. Not even its scarce pleasant memories. But what I remembered was that below all the numbing pain and fear there had been this brief moment of regret. A tiny question hovering on the brink of my awareness just before my light went dark. What if…

"Maybe. Unfortunately it's not as if I had much say in most of those paths." I replied softly, peering into my glass to seek for some helpful guidance. There was none.

With a sigh I took another gulp of my drink. Then the drell caught my gaze.

"Shepard, that is not true. We always have a choice. We might not get to pick all of our battles but we can always choose the reason why we fight."

"That's a rather… unusual view for a professional hitman."

"Imminent death has the habit of making you reconsider your perspectives along with your priorities," he said drily, mustering me with those unsettling black eyes that always seemed to see way too deep. "When I received my diagnosis the doctors told me I had about six months left. That was fifteen months ago. It is strangely freeing to know that death is already waiting for me. I can focus on what I deem important. A sunrise experienced in the knowledge that it could be the last, carries a meaning like no other."

"That must be nice. Feeling free, I mean. Since I woke up in that lab… I'm constantly on the run, rushing from one mission to the next, chasing an enemy we know almost nothing about. The Illusive Man, Miranda, the Council, the crew – everybody's keeping tabs on me. Wants me to do something. Go somewhere. It's like I'm flying on auto-pilot. Eat. Sleep. Fight. Kill. No time to breathe, no time to think. And if I finally stop... Downtime's even worse. So much has gone wrong. So much to fix. But the harder I try to righten these things, the more I screw up. So what good are my choices or priorities if I just end up with another clusterfuck?" I stopped and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Sometimes… it's all just so exhausting."

"And yet you don't give up. You keep fighting to protect others. You always care. That is admirable."

I shifted my seat and hugged my knees. "Yah. Or maybe, I'd just like to delude myself that death rejected me for more than running errands for Cerberus or trying to fix stuff that's damaged beyond recovery."

"Shepard. For all it's worth, I don't think Kalahira rejected you. I'm deeply convinced she gave you a second chance."

"You really think that, huh?"

"I do."

We fell silent. Outside the velvet blackness rushed by. More than ever I felt like a flickering candle caught in infinite nothingness. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was a second chance.

What if…

"Thane?" I began, taking my eyes off the window to watch the drell. Sitting cross-legged, he seemed at ease, almost relaxed, as if the assassin actually enjoyed numbing his ass on the cold deck with me. He met my gaze and I knew, despite his words, deep inside he was aching to fill his last days with more than sunrises and memories of a wife long dead. The assassin had lowered his guard and allowed me a glimpse beyond at a man desperately longing for happiness. For someone who brought him light.

Light.

This… It could never be me.

Somehow the realization hit me with unexpected intensity. In his heart he was a good person. He deserved his savior. His siha. Just stretch out my hand… I shook myself. The thought alone was insane. I was the cynical product of a dark and bloody life. What light could I possibly give?

Maybe if my journey had been different. Less violent. Happier. If I had grown up with parents instead of damaged kids. If Akuze hadn't already brought me to the point of breaking. If dying hadn't left so many scars. If that cursed turian hadn't gotten under my skin so badly. Another Shepard, in another life.

I cleared my throat. "Hey. Don't you… wanna know? I mean... how it was to die?"

He shrugged. "No, why should I? I have made my peace with my fate. Besides, I sense – there is unrest in you. It is troubling for you to speak about what happened. I don't wish to cause you discomfort."

"Okay…"

"Though, I do appreciate the thought." Suddenly, he reached out and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. "Please, don't worry about me, Shepard. I don't fear Kalahira's call." His expression turned distant. "And Irikah. My beautiful, strong Irikah. I know she is waiting for me…"

The drell trailed off, lost in memory and I looked away, not wanting him to read the truth from my eyes. The only thing that awaited us was oblivion. I suppressed a shiver and I downed the puddle of whiskey left in my glass.

What if…

Gods, but my life was a mess.

~V~

The stomping beat of the club surged against my consciousness, its mesmerizing pulse trying to carry me away. I stared at the palms of my hands on the bar's counter unblinking. Strange how clean they were despite all the blood that stuck to them.

I had done it.

I had killed Sidonis.

I had fulfilled my promise. My oath. Had finally avenged my friends. I had brought justice!

Slowly, I flexed my fingers.

I should have felt relief. Or at least a grim satisfaction. Anything; but there was nothing.

'Take what you want – and pay the price.'

The saying was awfully accurate. I had wanted Sidonis dead from the deepest recesses of my heart. And now I had to live with the unpleasant realization that it might not have been worth the price…

Bright red blood trickling out between her fingers. So much hurt. So much regret in her eyes…

I downed my Blue Helix, the hard liquor sending fire down my throat.

How could something that seemed so righteous, feel so terribly wrong?

My hands clenched into fists. So maybe it had been a mistake to kill him. Even so, the decision was mine. This fuck-up wouldn't have happened had she accepted my decision in the first place. Why couldn't she see that things had changed? That I had changed? I wasn't the hotheaded idealist, who went with her after Saren, anymore. I needed no one to save me from myself. And I certainly didn't need her presumptuous interferences on my behalf. She wasn't my father, damn it!

Then why ask her along in the first place?

I exhaled with a sigh, motioning to the bartender for another round. That way laid insanity.

"Garrus? Garrus Vakarian, is that you?" A female voice suddenly called out.

I turned and beheld one of the last persons I ever expected to find me in my misery.

"Spirits, Garrus, what happened to your face?"