The galaxy tries to find the way forward, in the wake of the destruction of the reapers.

Post-ME3, destroy ending, but completely ignores the whole 'destroying all synthetics' thing. Basically, the reapers are destroyed and everyone else lives.

Also assumes that Kaidan and Male Shepard had a romantic relationship in ME1.

And I've taken a few liberties with some behind the scenes events in the ending of the game, but I think everything should be clear in the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect. This is just catharsis for the most hideous ending to a game ever. Unless you count the ending to Final Fantasy 13-2. Which was a marketing ploy, not an ending. Shame on you, Square Enix. Shame on you.

Notes: Okay, so this turned out to be more a series of drabbles and rambles than a coherent story. Or maybe a series of character studies. Either way, there's not a whole lot of plot going on.

Chapter 1 - Alive

Vancouver

257 days since the reapers were destroyed.

It was snowing. Somehow that shouldn't have surprised him – it was winter in Vancouver, after all, but after so many years on the Normandy, and in the artificial atmospheres of the Citadel and the various colonies they had visited, snow seemed more than just a novelty. It was… an oddity.

And quite eerie, actually. The looming shadows of the bare trees and the dark spaces in between reminded him of that cursed dream, running through the forest, trying to reach the little boy…

An arm around his waist, a hot kiss against his neck brought him suddenly out of the dark memory.

"Dinner's nearly ready. I swear you haven't lived until you've tasted my mom's roast lamb."

Kaidan. Warm and solid at his back. The one rock in his shaky world.

"It's snowing," Shepard said, somewhat redundantly, the surprise showing in his voice. And Kaidan's snort of laughter, though expected, was a heartwarming sound none the less. The kiss fell on Shepard's cheek this time.

"Come on. There'll be plenty of time to build snowmen tomorrow."

Shepard obediently turned to follow him into the kitchen, but on his heels was the dark thought that leaving things until tomorrow was a recipe for disaster, a frightfully negligent strategy that had cost them both far too much, had almost cost the galaxy everything. The panic rose in his throat, but he managed to push it down again, take a deep breath without being too obvious about it, and then took Kaidan's hand in his, just to savour this time they had together, in the cozy warmth of his mother's kitchen, warm, rough, calloused skin against his. Time that could not now, nor ever again be taken for granted.

The radio was on when they reached the kitchen. "…fight broke out again this morning at the London airbase, with renewed accusations that space travel rosters were biased in favor of the turians and quarians remaining in Earth space. The appointed leader of the Earth-based asari accused humans of forgetting the role the asari had played in the war, and particularly in the construction of the Crucible, while the European President reminded aliens of all races that dextro-food supplies were at critical levels. Turians and quarians are being evacuated to Palaven-"

Kaidan's mother, Kate Alenko, reached over and switched the radio off, then blithely turned back to stirring the gravy at the stove, but not before giving Shepard a shrewd once-over. "Sit down," she ordered, stern and gentle as only a mother could be. "You look like hell."

Shepard sat, not so much because she had told him to, but because the words to argue about it failed him, enthusiasm failed him, defiance, loyalty, pride, all the things that had kept him upright over the long months before the reapers were destroyed had strangely fled, since the weight of the galaxy was no longer on his shoulders, and it was easier to sit, to take the weight of his aching knees, if not off his conscience.

Kaidan went about setting the table with neat, precise movements, but, if Shepard watched him closely, and took the time to be honest with himself, Kaidan, too, looked tired. He limped, occasionally, on his left leg, flexed his left hand when it got stiff, carried his shoulders less rigidly than a marine should.

Kaidan's father, Alfred Alenko, limped into the kitchen, leaning heavily on a cane, just days out from his fourth surgery on the shattered ankle that was his most significant souvenir from the war, and landed even more heavily in his chair. He was slightly out of breath, but managed a crooked smile to his son, as cutlery and a wine glass were laid out in front of him.

It summed up the state of the entire galaxy, in many ways, Shepard thought, surveying the motley crew of that small kitchen. Soldiers and civilians alike had been dragged into the war, and many of the survivors were now burned out, tired, wounded, with injuries that would never quite heal, being cared for by the remaining few who could still hold themselves up. Hoping they could hold up enough others to keep the galaxy moving forward. Kate Alenko was carrying the burden of this family for the time being, and Shepard tried to feel grateful that he could be a part of it.

Control. Synthesis. Destroy.

He shuddered, didn't bother to hide it, and sighed as he closed his eyes against the memory. Kate set a plate of food in front of him, said nothing as he ignored it. That had been the deal, and for the three days he had been here, Kate had upheld her part of it admirably. This wasn't a holiday to meet Kaidan's family, not a break from the lack of privacy at the hospital, not a new beginning or a Christmas celebration or any of the other neat, tidy, optimistic labels it could have been given. Shepard had agreed to come here only on condition that Kaidan's family understood that he was tired, haunted by too many demons to keep them all at bay, and at 34 years old, quite possibly a broken man.

God knew why Kate and Alfred had accepted his conditions, but they had kept to the terms, refraining from asking if he was alright, not questioning his moods and lapses, accepting his 'yes' and 'no' without once asking 'are you sure?', as if he didn't know his own mind.

When he had a handle on himself, he opened his eyes and began eating, the other three at the table having already started. The food was good. And this time, he tried not to be grateful for it, fearing the upwelling of emotion would be too much for him, and instead stared at the table cloth and mechanically put food in his mouth, while Kate filled the family in on who would be visiting for Christmas in five days time.

Later that night...

When Kaidan climbed the stairs for bed, he felt a stab of relief as he came into his and Shepard's shared bedroom and found Shepard in a pair of pajamas, lying flat on the bed, running through his physiotherapy exercises. He glanced up as Kaidan entered, shot him a warm smile, then took another deep breath and switched to his other leg.

"Dinner was great. Tell your mom she's a fantastic cook."

Kaidan didn't point out that Shepard had failed to say a word during the meal, had looked like he was attending a funeral the entire time. Instead, he made a light comment about the praise going to his mother's head and changed into his own pajamas, ignoring the way his left knee didn't want to bend properly. The last run to the beam had been brutal. In hindsight, it was pure adrenaline that had kept him on his feet for the evacuation, and long minutes more, giving Chakwas hell in the medbay, waiting to hear from Shepard, to hear whether the crucible had fired, to find out whether the reapers had been destroyed… to have his heart break in his chest at the news that Shepard had… that Shepard was…

He grabbed his toothbrush and headed to the bathroom, determined to outrun the memories, the cold, empty days that had reminded him far too much of the first time Shepard had died, the guilt, the regret… only this time there was the stabbing pain of hope. He had returned from the dead once. Perhaps… just perhaps he could do it again.

Out in the hall, a datapad had been left on the side table, still scrolling through the top news stories of the day. Gripped by a morbid curiosity, Kaidan selected an entry, and scanned through the news.

'Two more suicides took place at the William-Henry Psychiatric Hospital today. Both patients who took their own lives were victims of indoctrination, and despite months of research and therapy, doctors are still frustrated by the lack of any reliable method for reversing the reapers' mind control methods.. Following the destruction of the reapers, indoctrinated persons universally engaged in one of two courses of action – attacking those around them at random, or suicide. Doctors have managed to restrain many of those who were indoctrinated, keeping them on a cocktail of sedatives and anti-psychotic medications while they search for answers, but to date, only three people, two Asari and one human, have managed to overcome the effects of indoctrination. The hospital's president said that today's incident was a sad loss, but efforts to help the remaining survivors would continue.'

In for a penny, in for a pound, Kaidan thought to himself, and flicked through until he found the end of the report that had been on the radio earlier. A riot, the third in as many weeks, had been started when Asari soldiers had again been refused passage on the latest FTL-capable ship that had arrived in Earth space. Eight months on, and half the aliens trapped on Earth still remained. The Krogan, surprisingly, had caused the least trouble, their natural aggression put to work in clearing rubble and in riot control. It was a rare human that would continue to make trouble in the face of a Krogan riot squad. The Salarians had been manageable, putting their skills to use trying to repair as many ships as possible, and also working to repair the damaged mass relay. But the Asari had been far less amicable, demanding passage back to Thessia, making accusations of favoritism, and if not for the urgent need to get all the dextro-amino aliens off planet due to waning food supplies, the government would likely have given in to their demands just to be rid of the hassle. Of course, the news report didn't phrase it in those terms, but Kaidan could read between the lines.

A quick brush of his teeth and use of the toilet later, and he was headed back to bed. If he was lucky, Shepard would have finished his exercises and be curled up beneath the sheets. If he wasn't… well, who knew.

London

2 days since the reapers were destroyed.

"Oh, for God's fucking, piss-forsaken God-awful pile of shit!"

The soldier who had just let loose the string of curses flung a metal object out of her hand and thumped down onto the rubble with a cry of despair. Another soldier hurried over, seeing the body, mangled and broken in the rubble, and the tell-tale glimmer of the dog-tags that the soldier had just flung down. He fished them out of the ash and wiped them off.

Anderson. David. E.

"Fuck…" His own declaration was briefer, but no less heartfelt. He turned to find his CO. "Sir?"

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Body, sir. Needs to be extracted. It's… a mess."

"This is a search and rescue, Lieutenant. We don't have the resources to pull every damned soldier out of the rubble-"

"It's Anderson, sir. Admiral David Anderson."

Silence. Then a sigh. "Shit." The CO looked around, almost forlornly. "Campbell, Wilkins, get a stretcher. We're taking this one home."

A skittering sound over to the left had everyone grabbing their weapons, thirteen assault rifles suddenly pointed towards the tiny rock that had become dislodged from its perch. No one moved… and then the company slowly relaxed. The CO shook his head. "Get a move on. We've got plenty more ground to cover before it's dark."

"Movement!" The rifles came up again, but the corporal who had shouted the alarm was more excited than afraid, dashing up the slope, shoving rocks aside that tumbled down and stirred up dirt…

"Got a live one! I need a medic!"

Soldiers scattered, two medics dashing up the hill after the corporal, Campbell and Wilkins, stretcher in tow, hurrying after them. Soldiers hurried to heft the rubble away, revealing the body of a battered, bleeding man, barely breathing, more dead than alive. The medics went to work, blood infusion, medi-gel on the worst of the wounds, monitoring vitals, trying to stabilize his heart-rate, his blood pressure.

"Who is this poor bastard?"

The corporal reached for the dog tags, red and slick with blood, dented, but intact. He squinted in the failing light, trying to make out the characters. And then he leapt back, white as a sheet, as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"Corporal?" The CO took a step closer. "Who is it?"

The corporal looked round, dazed, mouth hanging open. "It's Shepard."

Vancouver

257 days since the reapers were destroyed

Kaidan slid into bed beside Shepard, appreciating the warmth already beneath the sheets as he snuggled closer.

Most nights, Shepard would give a grunt of acknowledgement, perhaps wrap his hand around Kaidan's arm, and the pair of them would drift off to sleep, nightmares held at bay by the warm body beside their own.

Tonight, though, the murmur of acknowledgement was warmer, richer, full of promise and anticipation, and Kaidan felt a twinge of excitement low in his belly. Shepard turned, a look of heated expectation on his face, and then his lips met Kaidan's, warm tongue seeking entrance.

Kaidan met the request willingly, cupping Shepard's face with one hand, feeling Shepard's fingers play over his hip, his ass, tugging him closer.

"Will your parents hear us?"

The words took a moment to filter through, so brief and infrequent had these moments been since Shepard had finally opened his eyes and slurred the word that had made Kaidan's world start turning again. "Kaidan", barely recognizable through the swelling and the drugs, but the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"There's a bathroom, a closet and an empty bedroom in between us and them," he replied. "We should be fine."

AN: The rest of this chapter was not posted due to the rules about explicit content. The full chapter can be found at 'Archive of our Own', /works/858592

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