For guest user abirdinflight, whose comment on "Requiem" over on AO3 gave me the idea, and for soignees, whose writing of Kolyat inspired me to get off my duff and actually do it.

All I Ever Wanted

Prologue: Heroes

"All I ever wanted was a place to call my home,
To shelter me when I am there, and to miss me when I'm gone.
All I ever wanted was a place to call my own,
Where stars will dance and sun still shines and the storms feel free to roam."

—Shinedown, "All I Ever Wanted"

Earth, 2186

Anybody else would have been dead.

Maybe it was her Cerberus cybernetics, maybe it was the way that particular chunk of the Citadel had fallen, or maybe it was just her particular brand of sheer dumb luck, but somehow, against all odds, Rhiannon Shepard had survived. Broken, bloodied, and utterly spent, she had given her last effort to see the Reapers destroyed—and yet at the very edge of Kalahira's shore, the Goddess had turned her away.

It honestly surprised Kolyat that he wasn't angry. That Kalahira, who had accepted his father with open arms, had sent back this woman who seemed sometimes almost eager to cross the sea, should have infuriated him. It wasn't fair! Why was she so important that the galaxy still couldn't go on without her? The Alliance certainly thought she'd done enough—they'd given her a promotion and a medical retirement. She had no duties, no family, not even a home to go back to. No children to care for. Just a handful of friends who, though they would never admit it, were already mourning her. Her destiny had been fulfilled. Hadn't it?

Then again, perhaps Father's had, too. After all, if he hadn't gotten himself killed defending Councilor Valern, his Kepral's would have ended him by now. Or he'd have died when the Reapers took the Citadel—it was only by a miracle of Arashu that Kolyat had survived that.

The Citadel shudders, groans, squeals. The stench of death fills my lungs. The keeper tunnels are dark, cramped, and hot, but I'm safe for now.

When the shaking stops, I clutch my pistol tight, take a deep breath, and run.

The Reapers' abominations are everywhere. They open fire as soon as they see me, but I don't stop. I shoot back, firing blind over my shoulder, running, running for the tiny maintenance pod. I'm not likely to make it far, but I'd rather be blown out of the sky than torn apart by these… things.

A bullet rips into my thigh, but the bone-chilling screech of a Banshee propels me onward. Running, running.

The pod hatch is code-locked. I'm dead, I'm so dead. With a silent prayer to whatever Gods are listening, I switch on my omni-tool and Overload the panel.

It opens, and I dive inside, slamming it shut behind me the instant a Husk catches the collar of my jacket. The once-human arm falls to the deck, twitching, and finally stills. I try not to look at it as I slap frantically at the controls. Get me out of here! The docking clamps release, and I burn the thrusters for all they're worth.

I see a planet out the window—Earth. I laugh. Appropriately, there is a human saying: out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

I am going to die.

I breathe a final prayer to Kalahira as the ground rushes up to meet me. Everything goes black on impact.

But then I wake up, and it's all over. I'm alive.

"Are you sure about this, Kolyat?"

A voice jarred him out of the memory, and a taloned hand landed gently on his shoulder. Kolyat shrugged it off roughly. He turned to look up at Garrus, gritting his teeth and meeting the turian's concern with determination. "I'm sure." He drew a deep, steadying breath as he focused his gaze back on the comatose woman in the hospital bed. Arashu preserve him, he'd spent far too much time standing helplessly over hospital beds lately. "She… I owe it to her. I owe it to my father."

Garrus fidgeted, still reluctant to leave. "Because if you're not, I can stay. You know, until she wakes up."

The unspoken words hung in the air between them, breathless and insistent and studiously, deliberately ignored. If she wakes up.

"I said I'm sure," Kolyat ground out impatiently. "There's nothing you can do here." Tears stung at his eyes; he ignored them, too. "And there's nothing I can do anywhere else."

Tali tugged lightly at Garrus's arm. "Come on," she said softly. "The flotilla is leaving for Palaven in a few minutes." She turned to Kolyat, and he could just make out the glow of her eyes behind her mask. "You'll call us if… if anything changes, right?"

Kolyat gave her a slight bow. "Of course."

"You take care of her for me." The worried flutter of Garrus's mandibles gave the lie to his gruff rumble as he reached out to shake Kolyat's hand. "And if you need anything, you know where to reach me."

"I will. Thank you."

Tali stood silently for a brief moment, wringing her hands nervously, then abruptly rushed forward and flung her arms around Kolyat's neck. He stiffened in surprise, then slowly and awkwardly returned her embrace as she whispered hoarsely, "Thane would be so proud of you."

There had been a time, so very long ago, when that had been all he'd ever wanted.

Before he could formulate a response around the sudden lump in his throat, she released him and went to stand by Shepard's bedside, her right hand extended as if in benediction. "Keelah se'lai, Shepard," she intoned solemnly, and Kolyat could hear her tears in the wavering of her voice. "May the stars guide you on your journey, and the tides of light carry you home."

Garrus slid an arm around her shoulders, and with a nod of farewell to Kolyat, guided her gently out of the room and toward their waiting shuttle.

The door whispered shut behind them, leaving Kolyat alone, with only his memories for company.