Note: If you're reading this and haven't read The Fall of Normandy, I suggest you head there now and read it. You'll be super out of the loop otherwise.

-The End of Dawn

|Prologue|

|2/2/2184|

|Location: Serpent Nebula/Citadel/Kithoi Ward/Yovaan Hotel Complex/2nd floor/Room B-12|

"Hey Tali."

Tali took a steady breath, one that barely had any composure in it, and sighed. "Hi Garrus."

"Look. We uh... Liara wants us to get together. To grab something to eat. You should come along."

There was a long pause over the phone and Garrus had to make sure he hadn't been disconnected.

"...Tali?"

"Where to?"

Garrus himself took a breath. "There's a sit-down place a couple blocks from you. Ever heard of Fauner's?"

"No."

"It's a good place. Caters to everyone. We'll be meeting in four hours."

Tali glanced at her at her clock. "So at five."

"Yeah."

The quarian sniffled. "Alright. I'll be there."

"Want me to pick you up?"

"I'll be fine."

"Okay," He murmured, "Just call if you need anything."

Tali didn't say good-bye. Nor did she thank him for his thoughtfulness. She simply ended the call and let her arm fall loosely back down to her side.

John Shepard really was gone. And she'd spent these last few hours staring blankly at nothing.

She could spend an eternity in this dingy little room, she thought numbly to herself. If it weren't for the pilgrimage, she probably would have.

John's funeral was earlier this morning. She'd paid her respects to his empty casket and retired for the day back to her hotel room to think it all over and grieve. Tali guessed that it wasn't healthy to measure her loss alone, and sitting here with only her thoughts to keep her company was, as she saw it, steering her way to insanity.

She felt like she was being smothered. Like she was drowning almost. And, as anyone would suppose, she went over everything that'd transpired that fateful week again in her head.

The Normandy and her crew. The planet they'd been stranded on. The collectors. And then finally John.

Her eyes squeeze shut at the mere mention of his name.

John Shepard.

She tucked in her knees and wrapped her arms around them. It was regret, she supposed. All of it. Regretful that she hadn't stayed with him before the Denmark had been gutted from bottom to top, muttering one last painful breath before exploding into an unsteady miasma of lights. Regretful that she hadn't gone down with him against the vacuum of space. And most of all, regretful that she'd watched it all helplessly from a distance.

She cried a little longer and the minutes roll by. She should've went down that elevator with him. But she didn't. And now he was dead.

And she was here.

It'd been three and a half hours since Garrus had called her and she still didn't want to go. She couldn't find it in herself to pull herself from bed. Where she was going to find the motivation to actually get up and get ready was beyond her. Especially when it was something she didn't even want to be a part of.

But it wasn't really about her though. It was about her pals. She said she was going to go. Which meant she was going to make an appearance. She didn't want people to worry about her more than they already did. And, with any luck, she'd feel some release from her unyielding vise of depression, and quell, even for a moment, her grief.

A heavy sigh passed through her lips as she heaved herself from bed. Her eyes were heavy and swollen. From sobbing, obviously.

She came up to the door and didn't bother checking herself in the mirror.

Having someone you loved so intensely gone would tend to make you not care about the way you looked anymore. She stepped out into the hallway, went down an elevator, out through the foyer, and into the streets to the place Liara had picked. Passersby would occasionally glance at the quarian, while others would stare at her blankly. She ignored them all and absently put one foot in front of the other.

She took a left.

Unlike the Presidium and the local ward surrounding it, the extremities that made up the Citadel were analogous to that of the city floors of Illium or Omega even.

There were undesirables strewn about the alleyways. Most of them sleeping or searching through trash, others smoking some weird herb, or getting high off red sand. You might not think the people here were paying any attention to you, but they were. Walking around these parts was dangerous because, intermixed with those who wanted nothing to do with you, were people looking for an opportunity.

She reached the end of the empty street and noticed a group of eight or so people hanging around the porch of a rundown apartment complex. By the way they dressed and acted, she assumed they were in some gang with some territory. Cute.

Half of them walk inside the building with its missing windows and door to obnoxiously loud music blaring in the background. Of course the bass had been turned up all the way. Helped drown out the shitty lyrics.

Only four remained on the porch and they all stared at the lone quarian. Out of necessity at this point, she watched them from the corner of her eye and mentally sighed.

Assholes like the ones she was looking at tended to disillusion themselves with the idea that quarian girls like her were helpless and naive about the inner workings of what lay stuffed under the Citadel's silver lining.

She counted them.

Two batarians, a turian, and what looked like a drell.

"Hey girl." One of the batarians called out in a dumb slur, "You're one mighty fine lookin' woman. Why don't you give us a good ol' shake, yeah?"

She ignored them and kept walking.

"Hey. I'm talkin' to you." He called out.

She kept up her pace.

"You fuckin— hey!" He threw his bottle at her and it clattered into shards at her feet, forcing her to stop and jolt back. "I said I'm talkin' to you!"

She turned to face them and watched the two batarians and turian begin to step off the porch. They were stopped when the drell that was with them held out his hand.

"Hey. Whoa." The drell said, "Dude. Calm down. I wouldn't be chasing a tail like that."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," sneered the turian, "It's a quarian. What she gonna do, cough?"

"Maybe she'll cough on my dick." The batarian that threw the bottle said with a grin, "But, I guess I could get by with just a handjob too."

They pushed past the drell and went down the steps. The second batarian followed meekly.

She felt her pulse quicken. Didn't matter what you had faced in the past. You got a little scared being alone in a dark street with three men walking toward you with intent to do you harm.

"Hey. My pal was trying to tell you something." The turian spat, his stride long and amped to make himself look bad-ass, "He wants to know where you're going."

"Please. Kindly fuck off." Tali rebuked flatly, pacing backward and resting a hand on her concealed sidearm, "Don't come any closer."

"Oh. You've got a spicy mouth." The batarian who'd made the handjob comment said, "What else you got for me?"

They pair tried to encircle her, but she wouldn't let them.

"Back up!"

"Why, girl? Nothin' to be scared of. Why don't you join the party? Hang with us."

They all smelled offensively of alcohol. The other batarian that hung back looked baked out of his mind.

"Take a goddamn hint!" She warned, "Piss off!"

The handjob batarian had it. He wasn't going to let her get by with such a piss poor attitude. So he decided to put a hand on her to make a point that he was in control and calling the shots.

As soon as he did, she smacked his hand away and drew her firearm and took three steps back.

"Don't you dare touch me. Back up. All of you. Now. I won't ask you again."

"What're you going to do?" the turian laughed, stepping closer to take her gun from her hands like an idiot, "Shoo—"

Her sidearm barked twice and the turian took a round in the arm and leg. The man didn't even scream as he slipped and smacked the curb.

The handjob batarian grabbed her arm to try and pull her down to try and get the gun from her, but his arm from the elbow down suddenly hung loose at an odd angle. Then she gave him a nasty pistol whip across the face and watched him crumple like a folded sheet of paper.

The last batarian, the one who looked both high and drunk beyond all belief took a step back when he saw Tali's handgun trailing his head.

"Please... d-don't shoot." He pleaded, covering all four of his eyes with his hands. Her aim lingered for a little while longer until she had decided it was finally time to withdraw her firearm. Holstering the gun, she tossed a spare parcel of medi-gel toward the turian's feet and glanced at the small mass of people now crowding out onto the porch of that wrecked complex. She was surprised they heard anything with the music blaring. She cast her empty stare back to the turian and batarian writhing like squids on the ground.

"Your friend's bleeding out."

The baked batarian stumbled to his knees and went for the parcel.

Tali turned on her heel and saw the drell wave to her with a smirk on his face.

Ironically, she found herself pointing at the guy like they knew each other. Many of the onlookers share confused glances.

What a bunch of fucking degenerates.

Garrus tapped at the wooden finish of the bar inattentively while holding his Krolus Heineken in the other. He took another, rather large, gulp and lightly placed the ice-cold mug back on the counter before turning his attention to the vid placed before the small congregation of drinkers.

He came early, as always, to events like this, cheerless or joyful. It was routine, and not even the death of Shepard, as he saw it, could change that. For once, he decided to not wear his iconic visor; the occasion made the headpiece an awkward accessory to his outfit. Hearing heavy footsteps come up from behind him, he turned around to see Wrex approach.

"How you doin'?" Wrex asked simply as he sat down at the bar with Garrus.

"Been better." His reply was crass and bitter. He took another swig of beer and put it back on the counter.

"Ryncol. Potent. Two limes." Wrex thumbed the counter for the salarian bartender.

A minute passed by and neither of them said anything.

When the bartender handed the krogan his drink, he snatched it, dumped whatever was in the mug into his open mouth (including the two limes) before setting the mug back down on the counter.

"Another, please." he said.

"Right away."

"So," Wrex shrugged as he faced Garrus, "What should we talk about?"

"Not sure, Wrex," The turian gave another glance at the vid behind them both and shook his head, "Not sure."

Thirty minutes passed before Tali came walking into the place.

Soon after was Ash, Joker, Liara, and several of the crew who were fortunate enough to survive their mishap.

They all moved to a private booth, sipped on alcohol, and chewed tasteless food before departing with little or no good-byes.

This was farewell to everyone mostly.

Including Tali.

No one knew it yet, but she was leaving tomorrow. And she wouldn't say so until she was long and far gone from this place. Until then, all she had to worry about was getting back to her hotel.

Ash and Liara both insisted that Tali just get a ride in their car, but she refused. So Liara called a taxi instead before helping her in the air-car, paying for the fare, and saying their good-byes.

When she made it back, she passed the lobby, took the elevator back up to her floor, and weaved her way through the hotel's gray hallways before sliding in her card and entering her room.

Without much thought, she sat on the bed, wept for one last time, and fell asleep.

Though, even in her dreams, Tali wouldn't escape the agony.