I realize I have a WIP but this is a one-shot and it's been in the shelves for long enough. Still working on the other one like I always do. But if you don't read that fic, then welcome new reader.

Post-Reaper sadness but a realistic view of what it would be like, even after they pull Shepard out of the rubble in the Post-Destroy Ending.

I know we all think Shepard deserves an ending with fire and lightning but—yeah, I have no excuse so don't hate me. I'm only exploring the possibilities.

Warnings: Disabilities, Just sad, no beta (I tried, and I always come back to try and try again).

Disclaimer: Mass Effect is not mine. Just having fun.

Don't be afraid to review. :)

Still

Garrus had imagined what it would be like after the war. His father taught him against it—this hoping against the impossible odds— but still he did it anyway. Being with Shepard, knowing Shepard would do that to anyone.

She'd be alive. That was the sure thing. Shepard would be alive. They'd stay in Earth for a while to help with the restorations. And then they'd head to their sunny place, a beach somewhere. On earth, maybe. Or a nice warm planet where there was clear water and blue, blue skies. He'd sit by the shore and watch her swim, maybe he'd try and fail and flail. She'd laugh at him: a lot and mercilessly.

His imaginings also involved a lot of fooling around, a lot of learning how to kiss like humans do because he is still fumbling through that no matter how many times Shepard says he is a fast learner. Then they'd get to what he knows he's good at already, by the way she flushes beneath him and whispers his name, over and over.

She's the lightning on the wave: on the battlefield and off it. One minute she's there and the next she's gone in a wake of light. These things, he imagines, he can't change after the war.

Instead of these expectations, he stands by the doorway of her hospital room. The door is open but he doesn't enter.

Sitting on a wheelchair, she faces the window. There's nothing to see but a night sky and earth still torn asunder.

When she turns back to look at him, her eyes unseeing, he stops himself from making a sound. Giving nothing away in the hum of his sub-vocals and in the shuffling of his feet so that she doesn't discern what he feels then: like he's being buried alive, being choked to death because there is no way out; not without looking like a scum bag.

In these moments he almost wishes that she hadn't survived if she has to suffer this.

There is nothing they can do about it, the doctors tell them. All the medical advancement in the world and still they can't cure blindness, not this kind of blindness. Not even for the Savior of the Galaxy.

They are hopeful at first, as they wait for Shepard's legs to heal and convince themselves she can definitely walk again. There are doctors that will to do anything for her now. But they're told it can take years and maybe never. But Liara is on it, and even Miranda and Chakwas so the odds look pretty damn impressive..

Until then, she can't even go into a firefight, can't aim, can't pull a trigger at a phantom on the other side of the scope. Still, Garrus hopes like he never has before. Because Shepard has crawled out of death's grip time and again.

He wants her to hope too because as Krios had said once, she's made a career of doing the impossible. Garrus has the quad to see her through this to the very end. Round and rounds of tests, endless, some painful and invasive. But they brave through them together because there has to be a light at the end of all this. And damn it, Shepard has to see that light at the end of it.

It's Liara who tells him, outside the door of Shepard's room.

She's crying in her hands. Saying things she shouldn't be saying. The medical team is disbanding. He shakes her by the shoulders. Calls her names he isn't sure he can ever apologize to her. She looks angry but only for a moment because she knows nothing can really replace the sorrow for Shepard, her friend, her first love. She'll have centuries to live after this and think back on how she's failed her again.

Liara gives him the torch, he thinks. She wants Garrus to burn Shepard alive because Liara can't possibly do it.

"The damage is more extensive than we thought," He says with his hands behind his back and his back straight, legs apart. Drawing back from that he's learned in the military. Maybe somehow discipline can comfort him. "There are complications because of the cybernetic operation when they rebuilt you. They might be able to develop the technology in a few years but—" He tells himself not to choke. He tells himself not to falter. "Shepard, your nerves are disintegrating. Your eyesight was just the first to go but soon, maybe a few months or less—"

She gives him a smile at the news. "Garrus."

"Spirits," He tries to hold himself together but he bows his head and he can't look at her when she can't see him.

"It's all right, Garrus. It's okay."

"It's not okay. After everything."

"Garrus," Her smile is still in place. "We'll make the most of it."

Shepard doesn't have any time, she knows this. Garrus does too so he lives in her hospital room and no one stops him.

Every day she calls in a different crew member. She tells them what's happening, what she's always wanted to tell them. They flock towards her, Commander Shepard, their immovable center. The sun they all revolved around. The irony that that sun would be gone soon... Garrus didn't want to think about what that would mean for all of them, for him.

Garrus never stays for her talks. They're not for him to hear. Though he has overheard a few things. She tells Joker that now the Normandy will now have a history of two disabled officers and the man finds a reason to laugh and cry as he shakes Shepard's hand for the last time.

Wrex, Grunt, and Bakara bring a few of their children from a long journey, there is a lot of yelling from the children and Wrex. But Bakara's calm words and calm voice is a balm to Shepard's soul. "The krogan's return to their fathers, they say, after death."

Shepard smiles, she stares outside her window at nothing. "It would be nice to meet my father."

Grunt huffs. "This isn't how it should be, Shepard. Maybe we can bring you to Tuchanka, kill a Maw or two like old times."

"I'm sure my wheel chair can hover around as fast as I can aim, Grunt." She smiles but he looks angry and dejected and Garrus notes, scared. "You'll do all the violence and killing for me now, Grunt. Think you can handle the responsibility?"

Grunt does his weird slow laugh. The fear has been quelled but it's still there, omnipresent and reflected in Garrus's own eyes. "Krogans actually have a shot at being in the Council, right?"

Wrex nods. "We better."

Grunt laughs again. "Think they'll make krogan Spectres?"

That gets them all laughing that slow, intimidating laugh. Even Bakara. Shepard calls on someone to draft some paperwork. If anything is possible, it would be how much Shepard can cram bull shit in paper to give a krogan a shot at being one of the Council's elites.

Hackett's visit is more a business transaction. They discuss what kind of fixing they'll have done. At the end of it though, even after Hackett says good bye he stands there, just looking at her. Close to tears as she doesn't seem to realize he's still there and she falls asleep. He salutes her and doesn't return.

Williams and Vega come in at the same time, soldiers—they represent the best of the Alliance. Vega removes his shirt and Williams' gasp is almost too funny.

"Lola," He takes her by the hand and turns around to put it on his back where he has an N7 tatoo made there. "You feel that?"

Shepard chuckles. "That tattoo or your rippling muscles, Vega?"

Her hand is feather light on Vega's skin. And he turns a very bright red at her words. "Dios mio, Lola, don't try to embarrass me without my shirt on—but I have to say that my muscles are pretty impressive too."

"You'll make an excellent N7—just make sure you pass all the levels though. Would be damn embarrassing to have the tattoo and not the armor."

"Thanks for the faith, Lola."

"You put those muscles to work, Vega. And some of that brain—if you have any— and you'll be fine." She feels her way to his shoulder and pats him softly. Vega doesn't say how he was looking forward to having Shepard as his mentor. Williams doesn't say how she'll be the only human Spectre when she's gone. They leave with laughter and some Alliance know-how and Shepard falls asleep when they're long gone.

There are others too. Jacob and his wife, who cries practically the whole time and promises the name of the child will be Shepard. Jack without her kids but a lot of biotic rage as she destroys a window and blames all the shit on Miranda and Cerberus (Garrus has to say, he blames them a lot himself). Kasumi doesn't stay, only leaves a vase of lilies that Shepard smells one morning, her hands reaches out to feel the petals beneath her fingers and she sighs, appeased. Though Garrus himself cannot fathom the calm she seems to feel.

Miranda's visit is almost heartbreaking. Even as Garrus has expressed some anger for her and Cerberus already, Miranda sits there with her head bowed. Crying, a proud woman like Miranda Lawson, crying. It's only Shepard's hand on her head, her shushing and whispering that manages to calm her down. "You did all you could, Miranda. It's not your fault."

Garrus feels like a kid for blaming the woman. As she leaves the room, face stripped of make-up and eye bags red and puff: she looks like an awful mess for supposedly the most beautiful human woman in existence. Garrus has an apology ready but only manages to shake her hand and say good bye. Too much bad blood there there, it's too early for him to forgive her. At least, he tells himself, he tried. Maybe in the future, when Shepard is long gone, he'll try again.

And in a span of a month the last she calls is Tali, fresh from Rannoch and happy and sad all at once. She cries a little before she can allow Shepard to tell her anything. Garrus leaves to grab himself some lunch (rations, Earth hasn't been properly stocked and it's hard earned with the destruction of the relays).

It's an hour and he expects them to be done. Only they're not and he stands at the door way, ready to turn around again and let the girls talk.

"Tali, I want you to take care of him for me."

"Shepard," Tali's voice through her suit is weary. "You didn't even have to ask. Stubborn bosh'tet that he is will get himself killed just by walking into a merc bar."

Garrus thinks that's pretty true and surprisingly funny. A smile makes its way to his face. He hasn't smiled since the war ended. He's always been thankful for

Shepard doesn't laugh though. "Tali, I'm telling you. You have my blessing."

"What are you saying? What are you talking about?"

"It's okay, Tali. I know."

A chair rattles, scrapes, and drops. "I don't know what you're talking about, Shepard."

"Tali," This time he can hear the tears in Shepard's voice. "It's okay. I want you to be with him, if you still want to."

Tali cries in earnest. "I—I never told anyone. I never—"

"You've been with me till the very end. You and Garrus. How can I not know the way you turn to him?" Shepard breathes, sighs, and actually sounds relieved.

"I can't, Shepard. I can't possibly do this to you—to him—"

"I promised him." Shepard cuts in. Even if her voice is soft he can still hear her. "I promised him that he'll never be alone. But now…"

"No, he won't. He'll never be alone." Tali's voice shakes. "But he'll always be yours. Don't do this to him, don't leave him."

"I'm sorry. To ask you of this, Tali."

"Don't leave him. Don't leave us."

Tali asks Shepard for the impossible. Something Garrus has told himself not to do: reduce himself to begging, as if Shepard has control of the sickness that is ravaging her body. As if she can command it to seize and it would obey.

But Shepard has no control over this, and her unseeing, green eyes tell him everything and nothing as she cries with Tali.

They reach their beach at last. It's nothing like he's imagined, nothing that he's expected.

It's on Earth: beautiful and untouched. Such a strange thing that humans have pillaged the galaxy, claimed every spot they could see and yet this island remained still and empty.

Shepard isn't in some skimpy swimwear, but she's on a wheel chair that hovers over the sand and on her head is a ridiculous sun hat. A blanket covers her lap, covering her from the cold breeze that she probably can't feel with how far the nerve damage has reached. The two of them are alone, waiting, he thinks—but he isn't sure what it is they're waiting for.

She reaches for his hand, pulls him to look and she smiles up at him. "What does it look like? The sea."

He turns to look. Assess. His visor gives him details, numbers of aquatic life and various depths of the sea. He says none of this. "Blue. Freakishly blue. Even the sky. If I tried to swim I'd probably just sink. No more flailing."

She laughs, the sounds lifts itself into the breeze and into his ears. "The Reapers didn't get here?

He tries to swallow his pain, that she can make a joke about the war like so many years have passed already. She can't see him and she cannot—should not—hear him cry. "Nothing to harvest. Unless they like—these starfish. It would have been nice to fight these things. Kinda cute. Reaper starfish."

"Vakarian, I hadn't realized you liked killing cute things."

"Only if they bleed."

"What a macabre thing to say." She motions for him to get the star fish and readily hands it to her. Her hands go over it slowly, over the rough skin on top and the suctions on the bottom. "Always wanted to see one of these things, when I was a kidl but it's— nice I can get as close to it as I can. I don't think I have enough time left before I can't move."

"Shepard."

"Garrus," She sighs into the wind. "I wish I had more time. But—we can make the most of it now, right?"

The sea is beautiful. Shepard, who sits there and sees nothing—something, maybe behind the darkness—is also beautiful. He doesn't want this day to end. When it's over she'll be gone and he'll have no one.

"All things from the sea, return to the sea." She flings the starfish, using all her strength and it sails far, farther than he thought she can throw with how much strength she must have left.

Panting deeply afterwards, her skin is flushed: the Shepard right now, even as she is dying is alive and present. She is more alive than Garrus had given her credit for. He berates himself, Shepard isn't dead yet. She's here, right now, with him. Still with him despite the war and all the things in between. Even now, there's so much she can teach him and so much he can learn from her.

There is still so much time left and Garrus knows, has been taught over and over, that he can't waste it.

He grabs her hand, holds it in his as tightly as he can. She holds back, weakly but with all the strength she can muster. Leaning down, he put his forehead against hers, as the world stills. He wants to make the most of this.

"I'll follow when I can, Shepard." He whispers, his subharmonics gives him away but no tears rush out. The hand in his holds back tighter. "You'll never be alone."

When her eyes move to look at him, he tells himself that it's impossible that she can see him. But she does, because she smiles and understands—and when she reaches for his face it is precise and knowing. "When it's your time I'll have a seat saved for you at the bar."