Note: If you're reading this and haven't read The End of Dawn, I suggest you head there now and read it.

-The End of Dawn




|Location: Serpent Nebula/Citadel/Kithoi Ward/Yovaan Hotel Complex/2nd floor/Room B-12|

Tali's empty stare watched the ceiling in her hotel room to keep the welling tears in her eyes from falling down her hot cheeks.

She was devastated. Torn. Angry. Lost. Grief-ridden.

An uncountable number of hours passed by and she sat through it all, eyes still empty and mind consumed with memory. She could spend an eternity here, she thought numbly. The only thing stopping her was the pilgrimage looming over her like a sharp blade. But even then, the responsibility dangled off at the very bottom of her totem pole of worries.

She sighed and checked to see how much time had passed since John's funeral. Eight hours. She'd spent eight hours doing nothing but think. And sitting here with only her thoughts to keep her company was steering her way to insanity.

She felt herself breaking inside. And it felt like dying.

She shook her head for the umpteenth time, and went over it all.

The Normandy.

The crew.


The collectors.


Her eyes squeeze shut at the mere mention of his name.

John Shepard.

She tucked her knees in and wrapped her arms around them before going over it again.

The Normandy.

The crew.


The collectors.

And John.

It was regret, she supposed. All of it.

Regretful that she hadn't stayed with him before the Denmark had been gutted from bottom to top, muttering one last painful breath before exploding into an unsteady miasma of lights.

Regretful that she hadn't gone down with John against the vacuum of space.

Regretful that she'd watched it all helplessly from a distance.

She cried a little longer and the minutes roll by. She should've went down that elevator with him. But she didn't. And now he's dead.

And she was here.

"John," She quivered as a tear finally fell down her cheek, "please." Her chest heaved for air she didn't want to breathe, "I need you."

Four hours passed. The desire to join the others to some small gathering Liara had planned never grew.

But it was best if she made an appearance. And, with any luck, she'd feel some release from her unyielding vise of depression, and quell, even for a moment, her grief.

A heavy sigh passed through her lips as she heaved herself from bed. Her eyes were heavy and swollen. From sobbing, obviously.

She came up to the door and didn't bother checking herself in the mirror.

Having someone you loved so intensely gone would tend to make you not care about the way you looked anymore. She stepped out into the hallway, went down an elevator, out through the foyer, and into the streets to the rendezvous point Liara had picked. Passerby's would occasionally glance at the quarian, while others would stare at her blankly. She ignored them all and absently put one foot in front of the other.

She took a left.

Unlike the Presidium and the local ward surrounding it, the extremities that made up the Citadel were analogous to that of the city floors of Illium or Omega even.

There were undesirables strewn about the alleyways. Most of them sleeping or searching through trash, others smoking some weird herb, or getting high off red sand.

The usual.

Then there were the thieves and gangs and criminals. All of them "incognito" in the midst of the homeless ready to feed off any unsuspecting middle-class idiot who'd accidentally wandered off too far into these parts.

As Tali walked, it wasn't a surprise to come across some pugnacious looking group of people standing on the opposite end of the street.

If it were her guess, they were probably a part of some lame gang with a little 'territory' here.

She watched them from the corner of her eye and mentally sighed.

Assholes like the ones she was looking at tended to disillusion themselves with the idea that quarian girls like her were helpless and naive about the inner workings of what lay stuffed under the Citadel's silver lining.

She counted them.

Two batarians, a turian, and what looked to be a drell.

One of the batarian's pointed in her direction following the suit of three new pairs of eyes (or four if Tali was being nitpicky) turning to stare at her as she strolled by.

They discuss something quickly and came to a stupid decision. Before the group could begin their idiotically aggressive stride, the drell stopped them all with the extension of an arm.

"You're all signing yourselves up for a funeral." The drell informed, "It'd probably be smart not to jump her."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," sneered the turian, "It's a dumb fucking quarian. What she gonna do, cough?"

"I'd rather she give me a handjob." One of the batarians added with a slur.

They pushed past the drell and made their way to her.


She was not in the mood for this.

"Hey bitch." The turian spat, his stride long and amped to make himself look bad-ass.

"Fuck off. I'm in no mood." Tali remarked flatly.

Generally, she didn't swear openly; much less with human-made ones.

But there was always an exception.

"Well shit, bitch has got quite the mouth." The batarian who'd made the handjob comment said, "I'd love to see her use it for something else."

The distance closed and before long they surrounded her with the musky scents of cheap cologne and offensive amounts of alcohol.

Oh yeah. They were all drunk as shit.

Ordinarily, fighting three sober men would have been dangerous. But judging by their breath alone, this'd be damn cake-walk.

"What do you want?" Tali replied with a low growl.

"You." The handjob batarian said before placing his sweaty palm on her arm. He tried to pull her down on to the ground... but his elbow suddenly hung loose at an odd angle.

Then the quarian gave him a nasty cross face too before rolling to the side, pulling out her concealed weapon, and firing.

The bark of her pistol spat two rounds, both swallowed whole by the turian's arm and leg.

The turian, now with two extra holes, slipped and dropped his knife before hitting his bony head on the curb and bruising his brow.

The last batarian whirled around to get a bead on the quarian and realized the hot tip of Tali's pistol was tracing his forehead, laser and everything.

"Drop the gun. Now."

The batarian didn't have the heart to lower his weapon. Mainly out of fear, Tali assumed.

"You really wanna do this?" Tali said with a demanding murmur, "Put the damn gun down and you get to see tomorrow."

The gun fell from the batarian's loose hands and he fell to his knees.

"Pleaseā€¦ d-don't s-s-shoot." The batarian pleaded as he covered his eyes with his hands.

"I removed the incendiary rounds this morning." Tali said flatly as she kicked his gun into the street, "Be glad your friend isn't cooking you dip-shitted Tet'shuct."

Tali glanced at the bleeding two-holed turian before tossing her spare parcel of medi-gel toward the guy's feet.

"Your friend's bleeding out." Tali said as she holstered her pistol, "Try this again, and I'll omit my exercise to use such selective marksmanship."

Before she turned and left, she saw the drell from earlier waving to her with a smirk on his face.

Just out of irony, she waved back, and went on her way.

Fucking assholes.

Garrus tapped at the wooden finish of the bar inattentively while holding his Krolus Heineken in the other. He took another, rather large, gulp and lightly placed the ice-cold mug back on the counter before turning his attention to the vid placed before the small congregation of drinkers.

He came early, as always, to events like this, cheerless or joyful. It was routine, and not even the death of Shepard, as he saw it, could change that. For once, he decided to not wear his iconic visor; the occasion made the head piece an awkward accessory to his outfit. Hearing heavy footsteps come up from behind him, he turned around to see Wrex approach.

"How you doin'?" Wrex asked simply as he sat down at the bar with Garrus.

"Been better." His reply was crass and bitter. He took another swig of beer and put it back on the counter.

"Ryncol. Potent. Two limes." Wrex thumbed the counter for the salarian bartender.

A minute passed by and neither of them said anything.

When the bartender handed the krogan his drink, he snatched it, dumped whatever was in the mug into his open mouth (including the two limes) before setting the mug back down on the counter.

"Another, please." he said.

"Right away."

"So," Wrex shrugged as he faced Garrus, "What should we talk about?"

"Not sure, Wrex." The turian gave another glance at the vid behind them both and shook his head, "Not sure."

Thirty minutes passed before Tali came walking into the place.

Soon after was Ash, Joker, Liara, and several of the crew who were fortunate enough to survive their mishap.

They all moved to a private booth, sipped on alcohol, and chewed tasteless food before departing with little or no good-byes.

This was farewell to everyone mostly.

Including Tali.

No one knew it yet, but she was leaving tomorrow. And she wouldn't say so until she was long and far gone from this place. Until then, all she had to worry about was getting back to her hotel.

Ash and Liara both insisted that Tali just get a ride in their car, but she refused. So Liara called a taxi instead before helping her in the air-car, paying for the fare, and saying their good-byes.

When she made it back, she passed the lobby, took the elevator back up to her floor, and weaved her way through the hotel's gray hallways before sliding in her card and entering her room.

Without much thought, she sat on the bed, wept for one last time, and fell asleep.

Though, even in her dreams, Tali wouldn't escape the agony.