Tali’Zorah gulped. Her pulse spiked, and her heart hammered inside her chest. Keelah, this was it. Finally, her lifemate was finally going to confess what had been eating at him for so long.

“Oh, uhm…” She approached him, then grabbed his hand and led him to their cot. They sat on it, facing each other, and she squeezed his hand. “Why don’t we start from the beginning. What happened after…” She broke eye contact. Even now, that moment still haunted her. “You know.”

“After I left you behind?”

“Yes,” she said softly, looking at the ground, “after you left me behind.”

John took a deep breath. “Ok. After I left you behind, Harbinger, it…it almost killed me with a grazing shot from its beam.” He gulped. “Just before it fired, I was sure I was dead, that we’d failed, and that the Reapers would harvest every man, woman, and child.” He pursed his lips. “But I survived.”

“Keelah, how?”

“The doctors said that, if I’d been wearing anything lighter than a T5-V Battlesuit,” he said, “I would have died right then and there. When it happened, I remember a blinding light…and then just pain, so much pain.” He exhaled through his nose. “Major Coats, he…he kept yelling in my ear, saying the offensive had failed, that it was time to retreat.” Briefly, he scowled, tensing his jaw. “But I couldn’t accept that, not when you still needed a home.”

She put her free hand on her vocalizer. Ancestors, how much pain had he endured just for her? Would she ever be able to repay him for it? “John, I…”

“It’s okay,” he said. “After I forced myself to my feet, I pushed on and several Reaper soldiers tried to stop me. But they were nothing. After killing them, I finally made it to the beam, up to the Citadel.”

“And what happened there?”

For a moment, John remained silent, unable to meet her gaze. In his eyes, she found nothing but horror. “John?”

He stirred, then looked at her once more. “After I made it up, Anderson contacted me on a comm channel.”

She tilted her head. “Anderson also made it up?”

“Yes,” he said, “Anderson also made it up. Again, I forced myself to my feet, and I found myself in this…red-lit room.” He gulped, then pursed his lips. “And in it…in it…”

Her heart raced. She could hardly bear the anticipation. “What was in it?”

“Mangled, rotting corpses,” he said, “hundreds of them, just piled on top of each other like trash – like garbage in a fucking landfill.”

Her eyes went wide. Momentarily, she couldn’t breathe. “Keelah…”

His eyes grew wet with tears. “Many of them were children, Tali.” He slid his hand down his face. “I’ll never forget their dead eyes, how they wouldn’t stop staring at me. And the smell. Oh god, the smell. I puked as soon as–”

She squeezed his hand. “John, if this is too–”

“No,” he said firmly. He took a deep breath. “No, I have to tell you everything.” He pursed his lips. “After puking, I pushed on and tried to regroup with Anderson, but soon our comm-channel encountered some interference. Eventually, it cut off. But nonetheless, I went on and eventually made it to the Citadel’s master control room.”

Her eyes widened. “The Citadel’s master control room?”

The Citadel had so many secret tunnels and chambers only the Keepers knew how to access. Was the master control room among them?

“Yes,” he said. “There, I found Anderson just…standing there, frozen. When I approached him, he faced me. But then this terrible, buzzing pain ripped through my skull, and I couldn’t move. I could barely talk or even think straight.” He exhaled. “And then the Illusive Man made his entrance.”

“That bosh’tet was there?”

John nodded. “He was, but that bastard was nearly unrecognizable. He’d mutilated himself with so many Reaper implants and cybernetics, and he could have killed us both, right then and there.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“Because he probably believed that he’d already won,” John said. “After freezing me with his powers, he went on this long, insane rant, trying to justify his actions, as if he needed me to admit that his way was best.”

“ Fre’eg eating Hagrr’hizs, ” she muttered under her breath.

“It didn’t help him though,” John continued. “He was clearly indoctrinated. Eventually, I made him realize that, and he blew his brains out. But…”

She squeezed his hand. “But what?”

Tears streamed down John’s cheeks. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping them away, then exhaled. “But not before he made me look Anderson in the eye…and shoot him in the gut.”

She gasped and squeezed his hand. “Oh…John, I…I’m sorry.”

“He was like a father to me, Tali,” he said. He gulped and wiped away his tears. He exhaled. “Without him, Mindoir would have destroyed me. And now, he’s dead…all because I was too weak to resist the Illusive Man’s powers.”

Tightly, she squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

Momentarily, he smiled. Again, he slid one hand down his face, wiping away his tears, then sighed. “Anyways. After the Illusive Man killed himself, I was finally free of his control. On the nearby control panel, I opened the Citadel’s arms. And while they did, I could hardly stand. I was just so…so tired, so damned tired, as if I hadn’t slept in days. Eventually, I sat beside Anderson and we shared some last words.”

“Go on,” she said, listening carefully to her lifemate’s every word.

“I would have saved him if I could,” John said, his voice growing more and more choked with emotion. “I wanted him to see the end of the war, to see the end of the Reapers and get the retirement he deserved. But my shot must have severed a major artery…” Again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping away his tears. He sniffled, then exhaled. “...because he just…he just wouldn’t. Stop. Bleeding. There was no hope he’d survive.” He gulped. “But I’ll never forget the last things he told me.”

She scooted closer to him, holding his hand with both of hers. She looked deeply into his eyes. “What were they?”

Again, John smiled momentarily. “He said that I’d make a good father, and that he was proud of me.”

She let out a weak laugh, then smiled. “And he was right.”

“Thanks,” John said, squeezing her hand. He sighed. “After that, I blacked out. I don’t know for how long, but eventually, the Catalyst woke me up.”

She tilted her head and couldn’t help but notice how he said the word ‘Catalyst’, with so much acid and contempt. “The Catalyst? So wait, the whole time, the Catalyst was some kind of intelligence?”

He looked away, then let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. “The whole time, an AI in the Citadel had been controlling the Reapers and nobody noticed. When it woke me up, its ‘avatar’ took the form of a child I watched die during the Reaper invasion of Earth. And I just barely managed to restrain myself from doing something rash, from doing something I would only regret.”

“Sounds like it was trying to emotionally manipulate you.”

“It was,” he almost shouted. He huffed through his nose, then slid his hand down his face. “That arrogant, self-righteous little shit only wanted to make its ‘reasons’ for the Reaper Cycles easier to accept.”

Her pulse climbed. Her breathing quickened. Ancestors, she was finally going to learn the true reasons for so many genocides. “What were they?”

“It told me,” John said, “that it was created by the Leviathans to solve a problem. Apparently, the Leviathans’ countless thrall races kept destroying themselves in conflicts just like the Morning War, cutting off their ‘tribute’ to their masters. And apparently, the Leviathans originally intended for the Catalyst and the Reapers to be ‘peacemakers’ between organics and synthetics.”

Keelah…

Had her people been repeating a pattern that had gone for countless eons? She gulped. If not for John, we never would have broken it. “And how did that turn out?”

“Exactly how you’d expect,” he said bitterly. “No matter how hard the Catalyst tried, it couldn’t stop synthetics and organics from killing each other.” He sighed. “So in its sick, twisted fucking head, the Calayst concluded that the only way to stop synthetics from taking over the galaxy was to regularly cull space-faring races before they could even make them, to enact genocide after genocide in–”

“The Reaper Cycles.”

John nodded, and a brief silence ensued.

Ancestors, what had been like to learn such a terrible, cosmic truth about organics and synthetics? It couldn’t have been easy. “So did the Catalyst do next?”

“It told me that, just by making it this far, its solution wouldn’t work anymore,” John said, “that I’ve altered the variables and presented…new possibilities.”

“New possibilities?”

John pursed his lips. He closed his eye, then sighed. “It gave me three choices, three ways I could end the war.”

“And what were they?”

“The first choice,” John said, “was an offer to Control the Reapers.”

She gasped, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “An offer to WHAT?”

Stolen story; please report.

“It said my corporeal form would be atomized,” John said, “and that my mind would become the new guiding intelligence behind the Reapers.”

She paled. She couldn’t speak, nor move. Keelah, just the thought of that scenario chilled her insides to ice and made her sick. Control the Reapers? And prove that the Illusive man was right?!

And John…

If she had learned that his body had been atomized, and that a cold, emotionless imitation of his mind was controlling the Reapers, then Felz’elt would have burned away her sanity. Yes, upon hearing such news, she would have put the barrel of her shotgun in her mouth and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

He squeezed her hand, and momentarily she smiled. I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.

She exhaled. “What was the second choice?”

Again, he let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. “The second choice was something called Synthesis.”

“Synthesis?”

“Again, my body would have been atomized,” he said. “But this time, my mind would have been wiped from existence. And somehow , the Crucible blast would have used my DNA to make every organic part synthetic, and every synthetic part organic, connecting them all in this…galaxy-spanning hive mind.”

She looked at the ground, her eyes wide. Ancestors, how was something so fantastical and ridiculous even possible? It had to have been a trap, a ruse for something else. But what?

And John…

If he had been naive enough to believe the Catalyst’s lie, and he had been totally erased from existence to doom everyone to a dystopian nightmare she couldn’t imagine, then Felz’elt would have ravaged her mind and scorched away her sanity until nothing remained. Likely, she would have become too insane to even commit suicide.

“Yeah,” John said, “it’s as bad and crazy as it sounds, and that fucking god-child believed that this was the ideal choice, that somehow synthesis would just magically fix everything.”

She looked at him once more. If the Catalyst had presented her lifemate with such insane, unthinkable choices, then what could possibly be the last one? “And the last one?”

John looked away, staring at the ground. In his eyes, she found only fear…

And shame.

Such terrible shame, the kind that ravaged one’s self-esteem until only scraps remained.

What are you ashamed of? Undoubtedly, he was responsible for EDI and the Geth’s demise. Undoubtedly, they deserved to see the end of the war, the end of the Reapers. But surely, their sacrifice had to be necessary.

Right?

“The last choice…” he said. He gulped, then pursed his lips. He slid his hand down his face and wiped away his tears. “The last choice was…”

“John,” she said. She leaned forward and put one hand on his cheek, staring deeply into his eyes. “Whatever it was, you don’t need to feel ashamed to tell me. You’re my lifemate, my other half. So there’s nothing you can do that would ever stop me from loving you.”

He exhaled. “Ok.” He nodded, then gulped. “The last option was to eradicate all synthetic life.”

She gasped, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “Everything?”

“Yes,” he said. “Everything. EDI, the Geth, the Reapers, and every AI in the galaxy. At the cost of some damage to the relays.”

“Oh…” she said, putting one hand on her vocalizer. “John, I…I can’t imagine…”

“They trusted me…” he said, “...and I betrayed them.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then let out a few quiet sobs. He sniffled, then wiped his tears and exhaled. Once more, he looked at her. “And it wasn’t just them.”

“There were more?”

“So much more,” he almost shouted. He opened up his omni-tool and input a few commands. Within seconds, her omni-tool beeped, and in her inbox, she found some files, some reports on the status of three uncontacted races. Quickly, she skimmed through them, only to be left utterly speechless.

Is this what you’ve been carrying, John? A cold, hollow sensation racked her chest, and she couldn’t help but shed a few tears. Keelah, no wonder he’d been in so much pain. No matter what, she’d do anything possible to help him cope with it, to help him forgive himself and realize that he deserved to be happy.

“I’m a monster, Tali,” he said, his voice choked with emotion, “one of the worst in galactic history. And everyone keeps praising me – calling me a god damn hero!” Grimacing, he wiped his face of tears. “I told…” He sniffled. “I told the Coalition leaders that I did it for the ‘greater good’ and because it was necessary. But I didn’t give them a complete answer – the main reason why I did it.”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “And what was the main reason?”

“I…I did it because…because…” Again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, then burst into a brief fit of choking sobs. He sniffled, then took a deep breath. “I did it because I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering alone in some dystopian hell. Because I’d sooner see everything burn than let the Reapers get away with it!”

He broke down into a sobbing mess.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around her lifemate and embraced him in a warm, tight hug. She also burst into tears, and for what felt like hours, John clung to her with desperate tightness, pouring out the emotions he’d kept buried since their days on the SR-1.

Eventually, John’s sobs lessened, and he calmed down. When he did, she gently pulled away, then held his face with both hands. With one hand, she began stroking his cheek, wiping away his tears.

Ancestors, what could she tell him to make his guilt at least bearable? Think, you bosh’tet. Think.

“No person,” she said, “has ever had to bear and suffer through so much. First, you lost your family at Mindior. And then you had to shoulder the weight of the galaxy, when Saren, the Collectors, and the Reapers threw the worst they had at you. Through it all, you never broke. You conquered trial after trial, without ever giving up. But now…you’ve finally reached your limit.” She rested her visor against his forehead, giving him a quarian kiss. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be to carry something like this, to have it haunt your every waking moment, and have it gnaw on your sanity.” She deepened the quarian kiss. “But saera… please believe me when I say that you are not a monster. You deserve to be happy. And I am not just saying this because we’re bonded.”

She kept her visor mere inches away from his face, staring into his eyes. “For so long, all you’ve done is give and give to the galaxy without any regard for yourself. Time and time again, you’ve acted more quarian than half the people I know, but now…you’ve given enough.”

Briefly, she paused. Still, John remained unresponsive.

She sighed. You have nothing left to give. Please, for once, just live for yourself. “I know that sacrificing so much to destroy the Reapers must have been the hardest choice you’ve ever had to make. But please understand that only somebody like you – somebody with your strength and resolve – could have made such a decision.” Again, she gave him a quarian kiss. “You had no choice.”

She paused to let that statement sink in. Gently, she pulled away but held his hands. Maybe he’d feel better about his decision if he knew how much worse the others were. “Now, to be honest, I can’t thank you enough for refusing to choose synthesis or control. If you did, well…” Briefly, she looked at the ground. She looked back at him. “Then I would have killed myself.”

John’s eyes widened. He gulped. “You would?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, “and nothing would have been able to save me. On that det kazuat of an uncharted world, Liara just barely managed to stop Felz’elt from pushing me to do that. And if…” she sobbed and tears streamed down her cheeks. “If you had actually died on the Crucible, then I think I would have killed myself eventually, no matter how badly I wanted to honor your sacrifice.” She looked at the ground. “Our bond is just too new, and the loneliness, the aching void in my soul, it…it would have become too much to bear.”

A brief silence ensued, and John broke eye contact, squeezing her hands.

“As difficult as your decision was,” she continued. “Ask yourself what suffering you would have brought to the galaxy had you chosen synthesis or control.” She squeezed his hands. “Nobody wants to make peace, or to be ruled by the genocidal machines that butchered their families and burned their homes. So another war with the Reapers would have been inevitable, John. Billions more would die, and there would be no hope of victory. The survivors – and countless generations afterward – would be doomed to lives of misery and pain under the rule of a Reaper Empire.” She leaned forward and put one hand on his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes. “Could your conscience have handled that?”

He pursed his lips. “No.”

“And let’s not forget,” she said, “how the consequences of your decision are blinding you to the benefits, to the positives. If anything, you did more good, in destroying the Reapers, than the deeds of every hero in galactic history combined.”

John broke eye contact, and his face looked blank.

“You may not believe me,” she said, “but it’s true.” Again, she gave him a quarian kiss. “Because of you, every race the Reapers had ever harvested can finally rest in peace, knowing that you avenged them. Because of you, billions – and countless generations to follow – will get to live out their lives, without having to fear another galactic threat like the Reapers. They owe you everything . And Kaiden, Thane, Mordin, Anderson – everyone that’s ever died fighting the Reapers – would be smiling down at you from amongst the ancestors, knowing that you honored their sacrifice, that they died for a future worth living, for the future that you created.”

She paused, so he could process her words. “No matter the pain you’re feeling now, never forget that I would follow you anywhere and support you through anything.” She stroked his cheek. “I love you more than words can describe. And like all the trials we’ve faced before, we’ll endure this together.”

For a maddeningly long while, he remained silent. Gently, he pulled away and looked at the ground.

Please, please, please, don’t beat yourself up. Forgive yourself!

Eventually, he looked at her, then held both her hands.“Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Everything you said, I…I can’t tell you how much it means to me, but…”

“But what?”

“I’d be lying to you if I promised this pain would ever fully go away,” he said, “if I could ever be like the man I used to be. But I promise that I’ll try, that I’ll do my best to get past this and be the lifemate you deserve.”

“John,” she said, “don’t you ever believe – even for one second – that you’re not good enough.” She leaned forward and put her hand on his cheek. “You. Are. Perfect. And please…I don’t want you to ever feel pressured into forgiving yourself. I don’t expect your pain to ever fully go away. Just know that you will never have to suffer it alone.” She gave him a quarian kiss. “So from now on, saera, please…let me share it with you.”

He took a deep breath. “Ok.” He gulped. “If I’m going to share this with you, then I guess I should tell you that I will never feel truly at peace, until everyone knows the truth about the Reaper cycles, how they started, and why the Catalyst is wrong.”

“Is this what that book of yours will be about?”

“Yes,” he said. “For once, I want to use my fame and influence for good and win a final, moral victory over the Catalyst by having everyone realize that its ‘solution’ is flawed.”

“In what way?”

He sighed. “Right before I chose to sacrifice all synthetic life, it practically begged me to reconsider, saying that future generations will build synthetics, and that ‘the chaos will come back’.” He frowned and tensed his jaw. “But I won’t let it. Your people and the Geth were living proof that organics can coexist with synthetics, and you can be damned sure I’ll let everyone know that.”

She couldn’t deny the truth of her lifemate's words. Once her people had finally recognized the Geth as sentient beings deserving of rights, the future had seemed so bright. “If this will help you find peace, then I will support you every step of the way.” She squeezed his hands. “Once you publish it, I’ll do everything I can to promote it. And I’m sure Admiral Korris, as well as my auntie, would love to help, to use your work to help bring back the Geth.”

He perked up. “Do you really think that could happen?”

“Right now,” she said, “the Conclave is likely debating the matter, and will continue to do so for months, and maybe years. But ancestors be willing, you might just tip the balance.”

For the first time in days, his lips curled into a genuine smile. “Perhaps it will, Mrs. Shepard . Perhaps it will.”

A warm, euphoric sensation bloomed in her chest, and she couldn’t help but giggle. She loved it when he called her that.

John yawned, then checked the time on his omni-tool. It was half past one in the morning. “Anyways, it’s getting late.” He began to take off his boots. “About time we get some rest.” He lay back on the cot.

And eagerly, she cuddled up to him. “Oh yes, indeed.”

John covered them both with the cot’s worn-out, scratchy blanket, then wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her tight. And for a while, she savored the moment, relishing her lifemate’s scent and body heat. In his arms, she always felt so safe and secure, as though nothing could harm her.

Briefly, she looked back to their time in the bar with Hayes. Oh, yes. The drinking.

“John?”

“Yes?”

“One more thing,” she said. “When we get our house, please…no more drinking.”

Momentarily, he held her tighter. “Anything for you, saera. ”

She’d never tire of hearing him say that. “Good. Because I’ll need you sober for all the fun we’re going to have in the bedroom.”

He laughed. “Is that so, Mrs. Shepard? Well, it seems I’ll have no choice but to obey.”

She giggled. “Yes.” She began to trace her hands across his chest. “I’m going to make every second of pain you felt coming back to me worth it, a hundred times over.”

“You already do that,” he said, “every time I hear you laugh, or see you smile.” He let out a contented sigh. “But nonetheless, I can’t wait. Someday, I’ll definitely return the favor.”

She laughed and gave him a playful pat on the chest. “Oh, go to sleep, you horny, smooth-talking bosh’tet. ”

He chuckled. “As you command, Mrs. Shepard. As you command.”