AN: So I'm working on another fic - but this little character study happened while I was working on the conclusion to Nora and Garrus' saga. A more somber alternative to their happy ending, I hoped to convey a more studied look at Garrus in a future where synthesis had given EDI life in exchange for Shepard's death. So without further ado - The Promise, Broken.

As always, I own nothing you recognize (they belong to the lovely Bioware).

~Voi

It is a warm November day when he finds himself on Earth, the air crisp with the promise of winter, the leaves of the memorial a splendor of deep crimson and amber. Fall is in full swing and the cycle of seasons continues as it always has. It makes no mention of the destruction that occurred those three years ago, just as the memorial plays antithesis to such a point. The granite and iron sculpture a permanent and unchanging symbol of those months not soon forgotten.

Vaguely he can hear the tranquil rush of water from the reflection pool, the sharp cry of birds as they fly overheard on their way south. The world is continuing on, but he remains stuck in the past, stuck here.

There are untold numbers of names carved into the walls of the memorial, and every world has their own. But it is to this one that Garrus always comes, because it is here that she resides.

There is a little alcove dedicated to her, located at the far end of the park, where the water meets the trees. And though it is often crowded with school children or the many curious citizens of earth, today is it empty.

Shepard.

The Alliance had wanted to put a statue of her at the memorial, a large one with her poised in triumph. In the end her memorial lacked both image and epitaph, leaving only her name carved into stone.

Perfect in its simplicity, Garrus traced the plain-faced font with the tip of his fingers. Simple but strong, the text said more about her than any image could hope to portray.

He traces her name until the words blur, until he is leaning against the stone and there is nothing but the coolness of its surface against his face to remind him of where he is.

The soft green glow of circuits on his skin is something he is sure he will never get used to, but it is her legacy to the survivors of the Reaper War. Thus, despite the strangeness of it, Garrus has come to accept it though it leaves his heart sore.

There is no Shepard without Vakarian; years of working side by side had changed the meaning of those words. First Saren, then the Collectors and finally the Reapers, each enemy had brought with it the trials and tribulations of survival. A friendship built on loyalty had become deeper, more meaningful until her loss had been unthinkable, unfathomable until it had actually happened.

He had heard some survivors talk about how losing loved ones was like losing a limb, but he couldn't help but think that comparison the most spectacular of understatements.

Losing a limb? Garrus shuddered; it was like physically dying and trying to convince everyone else that you hadn't.

"Garrus."

He can't remember the last time he slept through the night, can only remember the agony of waking up alone, reaching for the body that isn't there next to him. And it is not the big things but rather the thousand little things that leave him aching for the woman who no longer exists.

Her smile, the way her hair felt in his hands, the smell of Alliance Issue Soap and the way she looked in her too-large shirt and shorts.

"Garrus."

It takes a second for the word to penetrate his thoughts, to draw him away from where he stands at her side. And though the sun makes it near impossible to make out the figures standing at the edge of the memorial, Garrus knows who awaits him at the edge of the pool.

The crew of the Normandy has met periodically over the past several years to honor the woman who led them to victory, but these two men had long since avoided one another. Time heals all wounds, but there will be no healing between them, not ever. There is a resentment that even time will not erase, an anger that cannot be assuaged when the very reason for that pain stands beside him.

The video feed from the Citadel may have been badly damaged, but the gist of it is clear. Shepard had three choices, and in the end she chose the one that tore her apart, that took her life and gave it so that synthetics might be alive.

"Hello Joker," Garrus manages to sound civil if just barely, unable to look at the woman who stands quietly behind the pilot. "EDI, you're looking well."

There is no missing the exchange of glances that pass between pilot and one-time ship AI, but Garrus has long since ceased to care about what others think; these two in particular.

"Was there something you wanted to say?" He can barely keep the anger from his words; can barely think past the screaming in his ears and the memory of her face as she looks up at him for that final time.

"We were wondering if you were going to be at the memorial opening back on Ilium. The flight leaves tomorrow, and the Admiral was wondering."

He shakes his head, trying to clear it, but answering their question all the same, "No. We all know this is the one that matters."

There is nothing either Joker or EDI can say to make him feel better, but as he turns to leave the memorial there is the soft sound of shoes on pavement. And then, not a moment later, a hand settled around his arm, warm, alive.

"I want to you to feel this."

EDI had never been more than a helpful machine back in the days of Reapers and war. She had answered his questions and patched him through to his family. Always considerate, always there, he had appreciated her for her function, but always, always, as a machine.

"She's right here, Garrus."

Her hand guides him to the one spot on her chest where her heart could have been, should not have been.

But it was.

He can feel the thunder of life there beneath his hand, beneath her skin, the metal and green beat with a pulse and he knows, perhaps for the first time, that EDI is alive. No longer just a machine, she is the same as him, a hybrid, a testament to Shepard's sacrifice.

The realization doesn't make the ache in his chest ease, nor does it make him feel suddenly free, but as the wind whistles through the trees there is a sudden moment when everything, everything feels whole. She is all around them, with them, if only for that breathless second.

And in his mind's eye there is a bar, familiar though he has never seen it before. Softly lit with only a single patron, she looks over her shoulder at him with that familiar smile on her face, her hand lifting her drink in a quiet salute.

Waiting at the bar, just like she promised. Shepard smiles at him for a final time before turning back to her drink.

Waiting, she will wait until they are together again.

And though he stumbles away from the memorial, he knows he will be back again next year.

But he can't help the hate, the resentment, in his chest as he watches EDI and Joker turn towards her resting place, because it isn't fair.

It isn't fair that they have found their peace when all he has it the tatters of a broken promise. And there is no stopping the pain of her loss, no peace for the man who was left within nothing but a reminder.

There is no Shepard without Vakarian, but everywhere he looks he is reminded of her, sees the glowing green in the plants, in his hands, and knows she is responsible. Surrounded by her memory, he should feel peace, but never has he felt more alone. And so he will come back again next year, to see the stone, to see her name and keep his side of their promise; because even though she may be always around him, there is only one place in the whole galaxy where he can be at her side.

And that will have to be enough to keep him until time unites them once more.

Thanks for the read!