Author's Note: This is written for the Afterlife July contest, a death vignette for someone who can die in the series. Since I usually kill Alenko, I figured I might as well write him out. Admittedly, I'm a lot nicer to Kaidan since I read Handful of Dust by tarysande – she makes him less of an uptight idiot.

Blood roared in his ears, an odd counterpoint to the oozing he could feel in his arm. His armor had a half dozen holes in it already, and he could hear the heavy tromping footsteps of the cloned krogan troops and the electronic warbling of the geth as they cautiously approached his position. They were the third squad to do so; he'd killed two dozen of the bastards already. But the wounds were taking their toll here, and he was out of medigel.

His vision had narrowed to pinpricks, black and white static fuzzing around his peripheral vision. Faces and places came and went in it; time had slowed to a crawl. It was probably just the oxygen level in his brain dropping low, the rational part of his mind told him, before it ducked back into the curtain over his vision.

Ashley was there, looking sorrowfully past him, and he couldn't turn his eyes far enough to see what she was looking at. He'd admired the no-nonsense attitude, the calm professionalism, and he couldn't help but respect her work with everyone on the crew. Especially the non-humans she proclaimed to dislike. He hadn't meant to listen in, just brought paperwork down to the quartermaster, trying to fix that damn console next to the sleeping pods. He remembered her quip to Shepard, saying she'd kiss a turian. He wanted to call out, to tease her, "Five credits for the left! Ten for the right!" But in the end, he'd stayed silent.

He always stayed silent. It was a lesson he'd gotten at home. For as long as he could remember, it was always, "Not so loud, Kaidan." "Mommy has a headache, Kaidan." "Daddy's trying to work." "Not in the apartment." "Not in class." "Indoor voice, Alenko." Until, somewhere in his teens, he gave up and accepted it as the way of the world. He wanted to be loud, he wanted to sing and dance and laugh and shout mockery and be mocked and live life, but nobody, nobody around him wanted that. Maybe it reminded them of what they weren't doing themselves? He didn't know, and now it was too late.

Shepard drifted into his vision, smiling and giving him a thumbs-up. He'd done his job, he always had. Working through the headaches, through sniping and hushed rumors. Not that he cared about the latter, he had nothing to hide. The rumors said more about the people who said them. Shepard was one of the people who never listened. She didn't take someone else's word for the quality of the people under her, she only used it as a guide of what to look for.

Part of him regretted that they hadn't been closer. He'd tried, actually, but she'd kept things professional. They were friends, he thought. She wanted his honest opinion on everything, but when it came to love, there was something lacking. Something he was missing. Some vital spark of life, maybe, smothered by parents and siblings and school and biotic training.

He heard laughter, the pinpricks of his vision dancing around the courtyard as he sought the source, finally realizing it was him. He was laughing at the absurdity of his own predicament. "I guess that's it," he said out loud, hearing the krogan and the geth pause in their advance, trying to figure out what he was up to. "I just didn't have enough life for her. I guess I never will, now."

He rolled to his side, his right hand coming away, a fresh pulse of dark blood pouring down his left arm as he summoned his biotics again. The lead geth shot back like Shepard had just run it over, and he lamented the lack of the icy Noveria cliffs. It would have been beautiful, tumbling down the side into the dark and the cold. Another pulse, from his omni-tool, blew out the shields on a krogan, then that one shot up into the air, crashing down on one of his buddies as Kaidan rolled back into shelter. They were closer now.

"C'mon, that was pathetic," static-Ashley chided him. "Didn't I teach you how to shoot better than that?" He nodded dumbly, fumbling around for his pistol, only to remember the last geth to reach him had broken the weapon. The barrel was bent, the heatsink blinking red overload even though he hadn't fired it in the last five minutes.

He looked over the block, seeing the water splashing up around their feet as he set off a sabotage pulse, the geth pausing and twitching. He couldn't hear them anymore, couldn't hear the gunshots. He could only see one of them at a time now, as Tali and Garrus pulled the static tighter around his vision. He knew they were shooting at him, he could see the puffs of steam where the accelerated rounds struck the accumulated water, but there was no sound.

"Kaidan, it's time to go now," static-Shepard told him. All he could do was nod. His left arm was on fire from the shoulder down, courtesy of the nasty wound he'd taken, and his right wasn't much better, dying by inches instead of all at once. Panting, he forced himself to his feet, leaning on the bomb as his arm bled freely. With his right hand, he lifted his left hand, letting them see the switch in his hand.

He couldn't hear if they were advancing or fleeing. He couldn't see if they'd dropped their weapons, or if they were continuing to shoot at him, his battered Colossus armor now locked in place. Groaning, he held up his right hand, forcing his fingers together. He thought Ashley would appreciate the quote, even if she couldn't hear it. "In the beginning," he slurred out, "God said, let there be light."

He snapped his right hand.

His left let go of the button.

And Kaidan Alenko walked into the light.