"Alright, cats or dogs?"

Shepard arched a brow at her, pausing before taking another bite of his food. "We live on a frigate."

"I realize that, smartass." Ashley rolled her eyes and levelled him with a glare. "If we didn't. Pick one." She smirked as he held up his hands in surrender.

"Fine. Dogs, I guess."

"Really?" She laughed a little, shaking her head.

"What?"

"You just seem like a cat person." She gave a shrug. "You know, quiet, loner, asshole type. Like a cat."

His laugh was low and hearty as he threw his head back, his face stretching in that rugged, gorgeous smile he seemed to save only for her. "Damn, Ash. You really know how to charm a guy."

It was amazing how much it physically hurt.

Her stomach clenched and turned. Blood filled her mouth as she bit down on her lip to keep herself from screaming again. She just kept moving her hands over the rifle. Disassemble. Catalogue. Clean. Repeat. She didn't bother looking up when the door pinged and swished open, when more footsteps of another well-intentioned visitor stepped cautiously towards her. She just started taking the gun apart again.

"Hey, Williams."

Her fingers stopped moving for a moment as the turian greeted her. She wasn't expecting him. Tali, Chakwas, hell, even her Mom had decided she needed to stay for this. To 'be there for her'. To give her their heartfelt sympathies, offer her encouraging pep talks. Mom had forced her to pray with her like she had after Dad died. It was all pointless. He was still dead, she was still here, and she would keep taking apart his gun.

"Vakarian." She bit his name out, short and clipped, as she lifted her eyes to his. She met his eyes and just stared, just dared him to continue. She was getting sick of the onlookers. "Don't you have work to do?"

Garrus' mandibles drooped, but he didn't look away. He sat in the chair across from her, those weird, alien plates on his brow pinching together as he stared back at her. "Yeah, well…. Not today."

She was silent, flipping the scope over in her hand as she watched his stony eyes. She never figured him as being this damn stupid - to try and convince her where others failed. Maybe they had just sent him because they had all given up on trying to deal with her, on trying to get her to go. She took solace knowing that even now, even with this, she was still able to beat them off.

"Stubborn as always." His voice was low and soft as callused fingers stroked over her cheek.

She looked away from the turian and back to the rifle parts sprawled across the table between them. She heard Garrus give an assessing cluck.

"Always liked that rifle. Damn shame he could never hit half the targets I could." She knew he was trying to lighten the room, but the ribbon of pain in his voice cut her. Her skin crawled and her throat constricted so tight she thought she would choke. She snapped the parts together more forcefully. Garrus let out a raw, forced laugh. "I told him every drop that he should just switch to a practice gun, so I could show him how to really make her dance. He'd just smirk, shoot the light out of a geth, and keep moving."

She snapped another piece in place and tried to ignore the way her eyes burned. She had cried already, for what had seemed like days. It started when she had stopped fighting, when she stopped denying it, when she finally realized he wasn't coming back this time. She cried until she choked, until she ran dry, until she passed out from the exhaustion of it. Then she just started taking apart his gun.

"He told me if I reapplied for Spectre candidacy and got my ass accepted, he'd buy me my own." Garrus shook his head, a dark sort of chuckle rolling from his throat. "Guess it's just me and my old Mantis for a while now."

She stared at the gun, something cold and angry growing again in her stomach. Her hands refit the scope.

"He never could keep his promises." She hissed out the words and looked back up at him. The turian just sighed, and shook his head again.

"How did you get your hands on it anyways?"

She had to give him credit, he was taking an entirely different approach than the others. She tried to block the onslaught, tried to stop herself from picturing him running back into the burning ship. "I…" Jesus Christ, Williams. Pull yourself together. "I was at his locker with him, when he geared up. He didn't grab it, so I did. I thought…." Her throat clamped down and she slammed the gun on the table. "I thought he'd want it. Smart thing to be thinking, right? I made sure to grab his damn rifle, but I couldn't be bothered to stop him from running back in."

"Ashley, it's not – "

"Don't." She held up a hand and met his sympathetic gaze with a cold, hard glare. Like hell she was going to let them keep coming here, trying to comfort her and offer their shoulders to cry on. She didn't need it with Dad, she wasn't going to need it now. "Just leave me alone, Garrus. And tell the rest of them to, too. I'm fine. I'm going to stay fine. You all need to stop treating me like I'm going to jump off the deep end. I'm not some delicate flower, this isn't going to break me, and I sure as hell don't need to 'talk about it.'"

Garrus slumped before her. The turian looked defeated. Exhausted. Her gaze lost some of its intensity as she took in the dullness in his usually calculating eyes. He was lost.

"Just leave me alone, alright?" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. It always ended like this – her lashing out at them. It usually kept them from coming back, at least, but she was left with the guilt. Because she could see the hurt in all of them too.

Garrus stood and turned back towards the door without a word, and she meant to let him go. She had no business knowing them anymore. They were his crew, his team. His family. Without him, she didn't belong in it. But she stood up anyway. "Garrus, wait." The turian glanced over his shoulder with a cautious but quizzical expression. She picked up the gun again, her hands running over it once more, cataloguing its wholeness.

"What's with your bromance with Garrus, anyways?"

Shepard laughed at the ceiling and rolled over to face her. He propped himself on and elbow, his free hand trailing down her stomach. "You know, a guy might get jealous, you bringing up another man while we're in bed."

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes at him and he smirked. "Is it possible for you to answer a question without being a smartass?"

"Probably not." She felt the scruff on his jaw tickle her neck as he trailed a few slow, warm kisses towards her collarbone. "Garrus is a good guy."

She rolled her eyes again at his usual, non-descriptive reply. "And that's it? You two practically complete each other's sentences. It's disgusting."

"You know, I think you're the one that might be jealous."

"Oh, shut up."

He let out a low chuckle near her ear, the sound and the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through her. "He's a good guy, a damn good shot, and he always has my back." He arched a brow, those green eyes glowing down at her, questioning her. She couldn't resist running her hand through that thick mop of hair on his head. His eyes closed for a moment, and a smirk reappeared on his lips. "I also love the way his eyes twinkle."

She shoved him off of her, and he laughed again, grinning.

"God, you're impossible." She had to smile back at him when he wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her back to him.

She held out the rifle, and the turian's mandibles drooped, his steel blue eyes rising to meet hers. "Take it."

Garrus gaped at her. "What? I can't…"

"Take it." She repeated, stepping forward. "I can't keep it. It's too… I just can't." There was a part of her that protested this, that writhed and struggled against her will. It was his, the only thing she had of his. But it was a crutch, and a constant, painful reminder of what she failed to do. "He owed you a gun anyways." Garrus just stared at her, at a loss. "Take it, Garrus. He'd want you to have it."

The turian stepped forward, unsure, unsteady, and reached out for it. That part of her, that part that still clung to the disbelief, the denial, it screamed at her to change her mind. To take it back and just keep checking the parts. But she placed it in his talons and turned away, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

He's gone.

"I… thank you." Garrus muttered behind her. She just nodded, and heard him start to walk away. He stopped. "Ashley, you should come today." She was just silent, closing her eyes to steel herself against it. Against the pleas, the reasoning, every one with a different explanation of why she had to go. "I know you don't want to. Tali said you told her it was pointless, that he wouldn't want a funeral for a bunch of people he didn't know. But it's not for him. It's for them. You know that." Her teeth grinded against each other as she clamped her mouth shut. "He was their symbol, and without him…" The turian sighed. "They need a hero's funeral, and they need to see us standing behind him, so they know it'll still be okay."

Goddamn turians and their sense of duty.

"If Liara starts crying, I will hurt her."

"We'll keep you two separated. Maybe she'll even faint. It's been a while, and we could use the show." Garrus gave a small, weak chuckle. "We'll see you later, Williams."

"Vakarian."

She listened to his steps as he left, listened to the door open and shut behind him, then allowed herself to drop to the floor. Her breathing was ragged, short and uneven, and she stared at her shaking hands. She didn't know what to do with them now that it was gone. She didn't know what to do with herself now that he was gone. He had just swept in and changed her - made her need him, made her love him - and left. Just ran off and ordered her to stay behind.

Why the hell did she stay behind?

Damn it. Snap out of it, Williams. This isn't how you do this.

She wasn't sure when she ended up in front of the mirror, clutching the edge of the sink like a life support raft and just staring at the tired, drawn woman that looked back at her. Her eyes were dark and bruised, her hair ragged and unkempt. Even her cheeks looked like they were beginning to hollow. She hated her. This weak, fragile woman that glared back at her, because the only thing possessing any shred of strength were her eyes.

He leaned against the railing, looking out over the rubble of the Citadel. They were beginning to fix things and the keepers were doing whatever the hell they did to clean things up, but it was still in a state of disrepair. Shepard's face took on that distant look, the one he got when he was thinking of something particularly brood-worthy. To further confirm this, his hand ran through his hair.

She rolled her eyes and leaned against the rail next to him, pushing him lightly with her shoulder. "Alright, your turn for a question, Skipper."

Those green eyes flicked towards her, a small smile fighting its way onto his lips. His hand reached out and grabbed hers, holding it like he always held her – like she was about to slip away.

"Favorite color."

She snorted. "All the things you could ask, and you choose that?" He smirked, and gave her an expectant look. "Fine. Blue."

He arched a brow. "What kind of blue?"

"Alliance blue."

Shepard chuckled. "Always the marine." He murmured, shaking his head, his thumb stroking over her hand.

"Damn straight." She said proudly, shoving him a little again with her shoulder. "So what's yours?"

"Hmm?"

She frowned at him, his eyes back over the rubble and a grim look back on his face. "Your favorite color, idiot."

"Oh, right." Shepard looked back to her quickly, satisfactorily scolded. He offered her an apologetic smile and squeezed her hand. "The color of your eyes."

She snorted, rolling her eyes openly at him. "Jesus, Shepard. Cheese factory over here, is there?"

"Hey, I'm serious." He grinned back at her, a hand coming to push back a few tendrils that were hanging over her face. "It's a good color, like a nice brandy. Warm and inviting. It's not showy or obvious - it's earthy, wholesome. Real. It's like coming home."

She looked away from him, unable to stop the smile on her lips or the faint prickling in her eyes. "You're such a damn sap."

"You love it." He laughed, and she leaned against him, letting herself use him for support.

He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her, dragging her closer.

She drew in another deep, shuddering breath. She searched her eyes for the warmth.

God, help me.

It wasn't long after she found herself in a cab, her face washed, hair pulled back and in the cleanest uniform she could scrounge up. It was the best she could do, the best she would do, for this. She watched the Citadel drift by below her, saw the crowd gathered at their destination as they neared. People of every race, every species, come to pay their respects to a man they knew nothing about. She couldn't understand it.

"Why do you trust aliens so much?"

Shepard glanced at her, looking up from a datapad he'd doubtless been pouring over for half the night. She wasn't ready to start that fight yet.

"I thought you were over that."

She rolled her eyes at his critical tone, stepping out of his bed and grabbing her shirt. "That's not what I mean." She sighed, stepping into her pants. "I mean, after everything, I'd think you'd be inclined to a little bit of prejudice."

Shepard frowned behind the datapad, a line forming between his brows and his green eyes pinning her with a hard stare. "You mean after what happened on Mindoir."

"Well, yeah."

He sighed, his eyes closing and his hand resuming its usual motion of pushing back the thick hair on his head. "People are all the same, no matter their species. Most are assholes, some are worse. A few are decent. But the things that attacked my colony were not people, they were monsters."

She frowned as he stood abruptly, setting down the datapad and heading for the bathroom. "You can't really think that. There are stereotypes for a reason. The batarians –"

"Ash, stop." His voice was low and threatening, and he didn't turn back to face her. He was closing himself off again, like he had so much lately, trying to hide this part of himself away. Not realizing that she knew. Not realizing that she woke just as easily as he did to his thrashing, to his sweat, to the sleep-garbled shouts. Why couldn't he just face it? Why did he keep hiding it from her, hiding behind these bullshit explanations and taking the weight of the blame on himself?

Why couldn't she do anything to help him?

"Owen…"

"Why the hell do you think humans are more trustworthy? Just look at Cerberus, look what they're doing to people for some sick fucking experiments. Everyone is capable of shit like that. I'm not about to hate every batarian just because I had the misfortune of meeting their demons."

She wasn't convinced. The batarians were an obvious threat – a rogue state outside of Council space that had made moves against humanity in the past. A species that held slavery as a legal, and integral, part of their society. But she couldn't argue further, because Shepard was already disappearing behind the bathroom door. It swished shut, and the water to the shower turned on within. She was left standing alone, still wondering how a man who had been through so much could still leave himself open to so many unknowns.

The Council stood on a raised platform above the assembled crowd, Captain Anderson nearby with Udina at his side. She saw the team behind them, seated solemnly, and it was Tali that noticed her arrival and beckoned her to join them. She hesitated, her stomach turning in on itself - she wanted no part of this. He would hate it - hate the hero-worship, hate the Council's forced grimness. He might take the opportunity to deck Udina himself, or maybe give some rousing speech about 'getting their shit together and spending their fucking money on preparing for the Reapers rather than on get-togethers for already dead Spectres'.

Tali was beginning to get up, obviously noticing her reluctance and planning on escorting her the rest of the way, but she was already started up the ramp. Thinking of Shepard's definite frustration, of the undoubtedly expletive ranting he'd be doing at the sight of these gawkers, was enough to keep her thoughts from straying somewhere darker. Remembering was painful, but not as painful as feeling it, feeling that he was gone.

She slid onto the bench beside Tali and the quarian's strange, three-fingered hand wrapped around hers.

"I'm glad you came." Tali warbled quietly, squeezing gently. The tiny quarian's grasp was alien and intrusive, but comforting nonetheless, and she began to wonder just how much that damn man had changed her. How she was supposed to go back.

Holding hands with aliens, Williams. There is no going back.

A new wave of nausea hit as she thought again of how she'd be leaving them all behind. They may be his family, but losing them along with him… He would be even more gone. Lost. She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself against the familiar rush.

Oh, God. Please help me.

A hush grew over the gathered crowd as Anderson approached a central podium. The man looked exhausted, his face lined and weathered like he had aged years in the few weeks since they had last seen him. The old captain stood before the podium and cleared his throat. There was silence, and as if on queue, the vidscreens scattered around the area were lit, flashing to life to reveal Shepard.

She choked, and a hand flew to cover her mouth to stop the cry that threatened her.

The picture had to be years old. He looked younger, a few of the lines she had been accustomed to seeing around his eyes had not yet formed. But more than anything he looked harsh, rigid and unforgiving, with his jaw set and broad shoulders squared giving him the appearance of being large and threatening. Those green eyes glowed so clearly through the photo it wrenched her gut as she looked into them. They looked empty, though. Devoid of the depth she had come to recognize, of the warmth that softened them when he looked at her. She realized then that she hadn't been the only one changed. She shivered against the quarian at her side, and Tali squeezed her hand again.

"Commander Shepard was a hard man to know," Anderson began without introduction or ceremony. His voice was rough, reluctant, and she had the distinct impression he didn't like being here much either. He braced the podium, eyes locked on Shepard's image hovering above the crowd. "But I like to think I knew him well enough. He was a man more comfortable on the battlefield than in a room full of strangers. He was often reckless and cold, had a short-fuse and more creative uses for profanity than he was often given credit for." Something between a grin and a grimace fleeted across the captain's face. "But despite his flaws, despite all of the rough patches, he remained at his heart a good man. Behind all of the walls he hid a sharp mind, easy laughter, and the spirit of an idealist."

Anderson sighed heavily, looking over the large score of eyes gazing back at him. "No matter his rage, no matter his frustrations, Shepard always worked towards the greater good. He always fought for a better life. For a future where no one would have to be afraid, where people of every species could live their lives unchecked across the galaxy. He never turned his back on someone he could save, never considered giving in."

Her eyes slowly found Joker's slumped, broken body on the opposite side of the stage. The black eye, and consequently shattered face, she had given him was still raw. Chakwas' hand moved to grasp his shoulder as he shook.

"Commander Shepard was a hero, yes, but more than that, he was a survivor. He was a single, extraordinary man, whose shoulders were weighted with the worries of worlds. Somehow, he always kept going. Always kept fighting. And he never asked for thanks, never expected gratitude. His only expectation was that others fight as well, that they defend their homes with the ferocity he defended his."

To the death.

Her chest tightened once more, strangling the breath from her. There was a choked sob nearby and she found Liara slumped and crying near Garrus. The turian caught her livid glare and shook his head to try and defuse her.

"It is my plea to all of you that we do not forget his fight. That we remember Commander Owen Shepard in the only way he would want to be remembered – by fighting for our futures, for our freedoms, for the chance at something better." Anderson's eyes had left the crowd and now pinned the three councilmembers near him with a challenging glare. "By uniting our forces against the only enemy we should concern ourselves with: the Reapers."

There was a hushed murmur that spread over the crowd below, fear and skepticism tracing lines into their faces.

The room was dark. She woke slowly, stirred by some distant noise but unable to place it in the empty room. She rolled and found the bed cool and abandoned at her side. A faint hissing was coming from the bathroom, a light shining into the room beneath the door, and she frowned.

What the hell was he doing in there now?

She slid off the bed and crept towards the door, sliding it open quietly. "Owen? You okay?"

He didn't answer. She peeked her head in, and found the probable cause of her waking. Shepard stood slumped against the wall, naked and wet as the water ran over his back. His fist dripped blood, hinting at the cause of the slight dent in the shower's wall. He didn't look at her, didn't move, he did nothing to acknowledge her. He just closed his eyes against the spray.

"Jesus, Shepard…" She murmured, stepping in behind him without bothering to remove the bra and panties she usually slept in. The water was freezing, and his skin was just as cold, his breath gasping as he shivered. He flinched as she touched him like she were on fire. "Owen, look at me."

He didn't look at her. The muscles in his back stood out, thick cords trembling with tension and cold. She stepped closer, folding her arms around him, trying to pull him back from whatever this was. From whatever was haunting him this time. Her hair was already soaking, so she gave little notice to the water that tumbled over them as she leaned against him. He heaved in a breath as she pressed her weight to his back.

"I don't know how to stop them." His voice was a low, hoarse whisper, tired and raw. His fists clenched again, and an angry drop of blood was washed away. "I need to stop them."

"Stop who?" Cerberus, the geth, the Reapers? His list of targets was open-ended. She stroked lazy, soothing circles over his chest.

"He said they were coming. No matter what, they're coming. That fucking voice…" He wasn't making sense, and she wondered for a moment just how awake he was. "I have to stop them. I can't let them come. I need time, numbers. I have to stop them. I can't let them destroy it all."

"Owen, please, look at me." She tried to discern his expression over his shoulder, but his face was eerily blank. His eyes were only slits, barely open as he blinked back the water tumbling from his dark hair.

"They can't change us. They can't make us all into slaves. They don't know me… they don't know." Another deep, shuddering breath. "I have to stop them." The words were turning into a low, angry growl, a rage reflected by the tightening of his fists once more. His arm pulled back and she stepped away in surprise as his knuckles came down hard on the wall again, sounding in a sickening crack.

God, please give him peace.

She reached out to hold back his wrists as he tried again, but the effect was instantaneous.

"I'm not a fucking slave!"

Really, she should have known. She had seen how he reacted to being restrained after Virmire, how he got when he was like this. He spun around with a snarl, and the motion caught her off balance on the wet floor. She slipped and fell, her head slamming against the wall on her way down. He stood over her, crazed and naked and lost, and she had no idea how to help him. Her head pounded as she met his fiery green eyes, a hand lifting to feel the thin trickle of blood washing down the back of her neck. As she brought it forward to examine the damage, his face began to contort at the sight of her blood. A thin sheen of recognition lit in his eyes.

"Ash? What…?" He blinked, confused and weary, and after several long moments he finally knelt before her. He stared at her, his eyes slowly widening as his mind grasped the situation. She just watched him, waited. He edged away. "Oh, fuck. Ash? Fuck! I'm so sorry, I didn't…"

"I'm fine, Owen. It was an accident." She muttered quietly, but she didn't reach out to him. She didn't blame him, but this… How did he do it? How did he live it, again and again, and still keep fighting? What good was she if she couldn't pull him out of it? What good was she if she couldn't have his back in this fight?

"We should get Chakwas, have her check – "

"I'm fine." She answered shortly, looking back into those lost, pained green eyes. "What was it?" Shepard stared back at her for a moment, then looked away, his hand pushing back some of the wet black hair hanging on his face. "Owen, tell me. Please. I need to be able to help somehow, but I can't if I don't know what it is."

He sighed shakily, and glanced up. "It's… everything. Sometimes. Mostly it's Sovereign, his goddamn voice. I don't know how to fight it, and it feels…" He shook his head, looking away again. "They're coming, Ash, and I don't know how to start. Not without Council backing. Not without the Alliance. We need a unified front, and I don't know how to get it. But I can't… I can't stop. There's too much at stake. Too many people…" She reached out finally, unable to resist, and her hand pulled his jaw up to look at her. She found herself wrapped in his arms and pulled up onto his lap. It was wet and cold and tight, and she just held him back, her fingers threading into his hair as his head rested in the crook of her neck.

"I don't know if it was enough, Ash. The Citadel, Saren… I don't think it was enough to get them to understand. To understand what the Reapers are, what they can do. I don't know how to get them to see it. I need to find some way…"

"We will, Owen." She murmured back against him. "You're not alone in this, remember? You don't need to carry it by yourself."

His arms held her tighter still. "You have no idea how much I need you."

It was the asari councilor who stepped forward, resting her hand on Anderson's shoulder in a condescending show of sympathy. The captain took the hint, backing from the podium with a respectful nod and a dark look that seemed to infer his own doubts about the Council's commitment to fighting the Reapers. Despite his more-or-less guaranteed Council position, the title was proving to be nothing more than an appeasement for humanity's sacrifice.

"Thank you, Captain Anderson. We all share your heartache as we mourn the loss of Commander Shepard." The asari's voice took on a distinctly simpering tone. She felt her teeth grind as she kept herself from telling the blue woman where to shove it. "Commander Shepard was indeed a hero, a man who sacrificed a great deal in his work as one of our very own Spectres. This Council owes him our lives. His actions during the Battle of the Citadel were a clear demonstration of both humanity's and his own commitment to galactic cooperation." For some reason, the words from the blue woman seemed more like a threat, a command rather than encouragement.

Tevos' eyes flicked towards Anderson and offered him a large, potentially grateful smile, if not for the scheming in her eyes. "His death at the hands of Saren's allies was his ultimate sacrifice." She dropped Tali's hand, her eyes widening at the councilor's words. Saren's?! "It is that sacrifice, with the aid of our new allies, which we will honor by enjoying the renewed peace Commander Shepard has provided us."

"No!" Her shout rang through the assembly, and hundreds of eyes fell to her. She stepped forward viciously. "We can't just sit back and do nothing! He didn't save all of your asses so you could throw your lives away! We have to prepare, we have to – "

"Chief Williams, that is quite enough." Ambassador Udina looked at her with his shrewd, ratty little eyes, and she met his gaze with intensity.

"No, we can't – " He held up a hand, but she simply stepped closer to him. Her face hovered in front of his and her eyes blazed. "Don't you dare try to silence me too. Why are you trying to hide this? What the hell are you trying to prove? We can't just stick our heads in the sand!" He stepped back nervously, but as she made to get back in his face, another hand rested on her shoulder.

"Stand down, Williams." Anderson's deep, tired voice rolled over her. "It's over."

The finality of his words pierced her like a bullet. Her jaw clenched and she left the stage without a second glance.

"I need you to evacuate. Now." She wanted to scream at him, to slap him, to hate him for breaking his promise. But she couldn't, she couldn't protest, couldn't argue with a direct command. She hopelessly struggled with the very reason the Alliance had rules against this sort of thing. "That's an order, Chief."

The look she gave him was deadly. Smoke filled the air around them. Her heart pounded with adrenaline, and she wanted nothing more than to simply knock the man out and drag him to the pod herself. But he was Shepard, stupid and reckless and immune to death. She'd take care of him when he got back. "I'm kicking your ass when we get through this."

"Looking forward to it, Ash." A small, devastating smirk broke on his lips. Her heart lurched as he turned from her. She willed herself to step back so she wouldn't run after him. The flames and smoke obscured him before he made it back to the stairs, and she fought the sinking feeling that took hold of her. He was gone.

Her fingers typed the reassignment request deftly. She didn't shiver, she didn't cry. It was done. He was gone, but she was still here.

Depart then, Love! . . .
- Man's race shall end, dost threaten thou?
The age to come the man of now
Know nothing of? -
We fear not such a threat from thee;
We are too old in apathy!
Mankind shall cease.-So let it be,"
I said to Love.

It was over, and she had work to do.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

And there it is! The conclusion of Shell. Thanks again to everyone who has read this story through, to everyone who has taken the time to offer kind words and advice. It's been a hell of a time writing this and I'm so glad to see people enjoying it.
As always, any comments, questions, critique, or suggestions are welcome and wanted. I'm always open.

The poem included in this chapter was Thomas Hardy's "I Said to Love".

Shell's sequel, Descent, can be found here: s/10784926/1/Descent

Until next time!