So I felt that the way Shepard's death was addressed overlooked a lot of the emotion and drama, especially after everything that had happened. This is just filling in the gaps.

I own nothing, regardless of how much I want Garrus.

She heard the blast, felt the Normandy at her back, and then suddenly, there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of her respirator as she floated through—

Her respirator went silent and she gasped at the sudden lack of air. Panic gripped her exactly as she'd been trained to avoid as she scrambled for the air tubes off the back of her helmet. The hiss of escaping air, the sound that had been overwhelming moment before, went silent and tears pricked her eyes as she struggled to take in any oxygen.

To survive Virmire, and then the Battle of the Citadel—to face down both a Spectre and a Reaper—only to die of something so stupid as suffocation… The edges of her vision were going dark, and she reached lethargically for the debris of her beloved Normandy as it drifted past her, toward the planet's surface.

Commander Shepard, hero of humanity and Council Spectre, had been taken down by an unknown threat and left to asphyxiate on the vacuum of the galaxy she loved. Cruel, almost, that the thing she'd saved was killing her.

Her lips parted to desperately draw her last breath, but none came. The end. Her vision darkened as her heart struggled to beat once, twice…

The news screens of the Citadel all lit up and a voice laced with urgency called out, "Attention, citizens of the Citadel! An urgent report has just been released regarding the first human Spectre, Commander Shepard."

Garrus's head jerked up from the datapads strewn across his desk at C-Sec, glancing toward the screen in his office. His mandibles twitched in a small smile, thinking how much he'd rather be on the Normandy with her.

"This is Emily Wong, reporting for Galactic News." Something wasn't right. He remembered Wong, knew she was ambitious, but happy. The tightness of her jaw and waver in her voice drove him to his feet, moving to stand in front of the screen as she continued, "Moments ago, we at Galactic News received a devastating report. The SSV Normandy has been attacked." Garrus saw her take a shaking breath and felt his heart lurch, silently begging her to tell him that everyone was alright. "Information is still coming in, but our initial reports show that the Normandy was destroyed by an unprovoked attack by an unknown enemy. Most of the crew has been recovered from escape pods, but…" Garrus was holding his breath as she paused, struggling with the rest of the sentence. "But a few Alliance crew members, including Commander Shepard, are presumed dead. The Alliance will—"

Garrus didn't hear the rest of the report. The floor seemed to have fallen out from under him and the air had rushed form his lungs. Dead… No, impossible. A Reaper couldn't stop Shepard. This couldn't…. No, no, no. He shook his head violently and paced angrily across his office. It was a lie, it had to be. There was no way… He looked back to the screen as Emily Wong continued her grim report. A tear, barely visible to the camera, slid down her cheek as she recounted Shepard's brave actions against Saren, the geth, and Sovereign, and Garrus knew. He felt it, a chill just inside his ribs, and his hands began to shake. How… He'd left her for a few months. And she just went and died?! With a roar, his fist struck the wall beside the concluding news report, leaving a sizable dent in the metal. The doors slid open and he whirled on the intruder. Chellick held up his hands, cautiously taking a step inside.

"Everything alright, Vakarian?" he asked carefully.

Garrus could only stare, expression promising misfortune to someone—he hadn't decided who yet—and the smaller turian fled back to his own office as a rumble rose in Garrus's chest. It was low at first, threatening to anyone who might try to come near him, and rose to a pitch declaring his rage for all to hear, filling the empty space of his office. He wanted to yell, unleash some of his energy, kill something. He clenched his taloned hands into fists. No, not something; he wanted to kill whatever had attacked the Normandy.

He was out of his office, out of C-Sec, before he'd even realized it, storming through the halls of the Citadel. Crowds parted before him, people scrambling to avoid the enraged turian in C-Sec blues, and he was in the embassies before he knew what he wanted to do.

Councilor Anderson stood looking out over the Presidium Lake, hands clasped behind his back. The Alliance veteran's expression was blank, eyes not seeing the manicured Citadel beyond his balcony but some stretch of the galaxy far away, littered with the debris of her ship, her crew… her body. His heart sank a little. She'd put him in this position, put her trust in him to take care of humanity. Sure, he had accepted, but he was no politician. She knew it, claimed that they needed someone who had seen combat to balance the Council, and he had agreed. But now… He wanted to be out in space, out fighting the good fight. No, no, he needed to stay. She was right. He had to make sure humanity was taken into consideration, whether he liked it or not.

Anderson heard a rumble and briefly wondered if the Citadel was finally crumbling after the damage Sovereign had dealt it, but quickly dismissed the thought as footsteps reached his ears. Heavy steps, in a rush. The rumble grew louder, as the steps did, until the doors whooshed open. He didn't turn.

"Anderson!" the snarl was out before he could stop it. Deep down, he knew he was out of control, but Garrus couldn't stop. His blood coursed hotly through his veins and his hands shook with barely contained emotion.

"Officer Vakarian, come in." The councilor's tone was even, giving nothing away. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Don't give me that shit, Anderson," Garrus roared. He was vaguely aware that he was shouting and a small—very small—part of him was ashamed, but he couldn't stop. He wanted answers, wanted to hear that it wasn't true… wanted to hear that she was alive. "What the hell happened?"

Anderson didn't say anything at first, jaw tense. Garrus's rumble quieted and Anderson inhaled. One… two… three… He turned and exhaled, letting his hands fall to his sides. His face was drawn and pale and Garrus realized Anderson felt the loss—maybe not as keenly as he did, but there was still pain. His angry growl fell silent, but his posture did not change; his eyes were narrowed and piercing, mandibles tight to his face, and shoulders forward with clenched fists showing his anger.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit! How the hell could you not know?!" In the back of his mind, his turian training screamed at him to stop, to apologize and leave before any more damage was done, but it was long ignored and he ignored it again. He'd never been a good turian, he'd told Shepard—He flinched, her smiling face invading his thoughts, along with the realization that he'd never see that smile again.

"We have no reports. No one knows what attacked them. The surviving crew is too traumatized to give any intel just yet." The older human rubbed his brow, exhaustion setting in the lines of his face. "They were assigned to root out the last enclaves of geth, now that Sovereign was destroyed. They were scanning around Alchera when we received a distress signal. Before we even knew what had happened, the signal went dark. We don't know what attacked them; we don't even know how they destroyed the Normandy so quickly. The escape pods had minor damage but the crew…" He sighed and amended, "surviving crew is fine. Well, as fine as they can be, I suppose. A few technicians didn't make it. Pressly was killed in the first strike." Garrus felt a pang of guilt, knowing he'd never been very cordial with the xenophobic navigator. "Shepard… Shepard didn't make it to the escape pods. Joker said she was trying to make sure everyone made it out. She went back for him and forced him to leave the ship. She saved his life, Garrus."

Garrus was shaking and he couldn't seem to get enough air in his lungs. "Just tell me what happened," he finally managed, his voice strained, barely above a whisper.

Anderson winced and fell into the chair behind his desk. Silence settled in as he laced his fingers together, eyes boring into the floor a few feet to Garrus's left. Garrus waited, crossing his arms to keep from damaging any more of the already-injured Citadel.

"An explosion," the man finally said quietly, "blew her away from the escape pod as it launched. Joker… Joker isn't sure what happened exactly but…" He forced his eyes shut and took a long breath. "He saw her hit a wall, and her respirator started leaking."

Garrus felt a chill settle over him and his eyes widened. No… That couldn't be… Shepard would go out in a blaze of glory, no suffocating in a vacuum. That couldn't be it! That was the worst way to go: cold, alone, and desperate. Painless, maybe, but Shepard… She wouldn't have wanted painless. She would have said it was weak, she would have wanted to die fighting, not fighting for air! He forced his eyes shut, emotions roiling within him and threatening to escape: anger, despair, confusion… pain. His chest ached and his head felt like a krogan were standing on it, but even more, pain stabbed into his heart with every breath. She's gone. Gone, gone, gone.

"Garrus, I know you two were close…"

Garrus didn't hear, blood rushing in his ears as his brain scrambled to gather the pieces of his carefully constructed world. What now? The thought echoed over and over in his head, almost taunting him. He knew Anderson was saying something to him, but he couldn't understand the words. He felt like he was trapped in a void, struggling to get his bearings to save himself. His stomach dropped, knowing this was how Shepard spent her last moments. His best friend, and he couldn't save her. Not this time, not ever again.

Anderson's hand on his arm forced him back to the present, back to the Citadel, away from his thoughts. Garrus gave an apologetic nod and slumped back onto the chair across from Anderson's desk.

"Shepard left a will, Garrus. Not for her possessions, she didn't keep any as you know, but for the crew. She left recommendations for future assignments and applications for awards and promotions. A lot have your name on them. Most have been forwarded to the Turian Hierarchy, but she's recommended you for a Star of Terra."

"But I'm not Alliance," he finally managed, "I'm not even human."

"No, but that doesn't mean you didn't earn it, and Shepard's word carries a lot of weight. And as humanity's councilor, I stand by her choice. It would be a huge step to repairing damage from the First Contact War." Anderson, though he had fought, felt no animosity toward the aliens in question. Wary, yes, but that did not prevent him from trusting humanity's new allies.

Garrus couldn't help the small twitch of his mandibles into a smile. "This was her plan from the beginning. She always said there was no reason we couldn't move on and get along."

Anderson nodded sagely. "Maybe she'll get her wish. There is one other thing she left with your name on it." Garrus waited and Anderson held out a datapad. "A recommendation for Spectre training. She wrote it not long after you returned to C-Sec."

"I never re-applied for Spectre training," he replied lamely, staring at her glowing accolades about him.

"I know. And she knew too, since this hadn't been sent in yet. But I don't need to tell you what she wanted." He leveled a knowing stare at the young turian and Garrus fidgeted, not meeting the human's eyes.

"I can't replace her, Anderson." He hated the weakness in his own voice, but it was true. How could he live up to her legacy? No one could follow in her confident footsteps.

"No one expects you to. But you of all people should want to honor her wishes."

That burned him, and Garrus met the human councilor's gaze, eyes flashing. Of course he wanted to honor her wishes, but could he? Could he bear to follow her path, to be reminded of his best friend, when she was gone? He knew the answer, but the look in the human's eyes told him there was no debating.

"Alright. I… I'll put in the paperwork." He looked back down at the datapad, running a talon over the thin border.

"Glad to hear it." Anderson rose, going back to the balcony. "I understand what you're feeling, Garrus. Shepard…. She was like a daughter to me, and I feel her loss more than a commanding officer should." He leaned on the railing, looking far older than he had before Sovereign's attack. "I know it's a lot to ask but Shepard doesn't have any family, not after Mindoir—"Garrus nodded, though Anderson wasn't looking "—and you know her better than anyone. I'd like for you to speak at her service."

Garrus forced his mouth to remain shut for a moment. This was a risky thing Anderson was asking him to do. Sure, Shepard was a friend to turians, but that didn't mean the rest of humanity had forgiven his species—Ashley certainly hadn't. It would have been safer to ask someone else, someone human. Why him?

"What about Alenko? Or Liara?" He knew he sounded like a petulant child refusing to do chores, but also just wasn't sure he would be able to talk about Shepard, knowing she was gone. "Wouldn't the Alliance rather have someone…" Human? Not Turian? "… else?"

"Damn what the Alliance wants," Anderson snapped, "Did you care about Shepard?"

Garrus tensed, suddenly feeling like a green recruit at basic. Something in the councilor's voice made it clear he required an answer. "Sir?"

"Did you care about Jane Shepard?" Anderson repeated.

Jane… Garrus was ashamed, but he'd never known her given name. He desperately committed it to memory, never wanting to forget any part of her.

"She was my best friend," he finally answered, voice cracking.

"Then do what she would have wanted and honor her memory." Garrus could see the tears in the human councilor's eyes. "Dismissed."

Automatically, Garrus stood, saluted and went to the door, stopping himself just shy of the exit.

"Thank you," he finally managed, not looking back, "It's been a pleasure, Councilor."

Anderson watched him go, visibly sagging. He should have been used to putting on a brave face for his command, but nothing could have prepared him for this. In the silence of his office, the councilor let out a broken sigh, tears sliding down his weather face. Jane… too selfless for her own good. He chuckled sadly, remembering her concern for everyone but herself. So many times, he had found himself wishing she cared a bit more about her own life, but that wasn't Shepard. She wouldn't be Commander Jane Shepard if she weren't painfully heroic, endlessly caring, and surprisingly tolerant. And now… a void. Jane… His Jane… Garrus's Jane…

He looked back to the door pensively, wondering what would happen to the galaxy now.

I won't beg for reviews, but if you like something, let me know so I can keep doing it. =)