Note: So this is a completely different writing style for me then what I am accustomed to. I wanted to try something a little more free-form. Feedback is appreciated!

This takes place post ME3 with the Destroy ending. With a K rating: also new.

Oh and Bioware owns their characters, and yadda, yadda, yadda.

From the moment that she received the message, her attention shifted.

She turned so fast that her vibrant red, shoulder-length curly locks nearly whipped the man standing beside her.

She didn't care.

She had a new mission.

Her legs whisked her away from the meeting room. An elderly gentlemen mumbled something about 'arrival'. The young man at her side accompanied the woman with the piercing green eyes as he stumbled after to catch up.

It was his duty to watch over her. "Why does she need it? She saved the galaxy," he remembers saying. But he was not there to protect her; he was there to protect everyone else from her.

A man who lost his son in the war broke into the infirmary where she rested. He left with a broken arm and leg.

A woman who kept persisting peace above all else ended up with a broken nose when confronting the fiery red-head.

She never needed protection, so he stood at her side as a glorified babysitter and that was fine by him.

He wanted to learn how this one human, this one woman, was able to accomplish so much. And yet she was scorned by so many.

She was unconventional and inspiring.

She was irreverent and magnanimous.

She was the reason they all lived and the reason they all suffer.

That's why she needed a hyped up bodyguard.

And as he spent the weeks, months, watching her, he found that respecting her was as natural as breathing air. Speaking to her was like being with an old college roommate. She was everything that Alliance made her out to be, and nothing like he had expected.

This wasn't love. This was admiration.

As she twisted down the hallways, she barely acknowledged those that were greeting her. He had never seen her so focused before. Or so angry when they reached the elevator only to find that it was in use.

Angry is an overzealous term. Her anger was usually brief and internal. She squinted her eyes to allow the lines to form along the edges of her face, releasing a huff of frustration in her voice, before shedding that look to return to the image people knew her for.

She didn't wait. She kept moving.

The stairs were grueling. But she wasn't going to let the elevator stop her on her quest.

"You'd think with all of the technology in the world, they would make faster elevators" she always said. She claimed to hate those things. He secretly thought she liked them.

10 flights later and hamstrings teetering on exhaustion, she didn't let up. This was probably the day she was going to kill him with her randomness, because this was very unusual for her.

She was typically polite, or well-mannered enough. But this was a new side of her that he hadn't seen before.

It was exciting…and terrifying.

What the hell could have been on her Omni-tool that prompted her to react in such a way?

Now they were down on the ground level, amongst the throngs of people. Some begging for a photo. Others autographs. No death threats, yet. And for every person she passed, he had to wade through the requests.

"Sorry."

"She's unavailable."

"She's busy."

Personal assistant would probably be a more apt description then bodyguard. But it was better than the alternative: picking up rubble in one of the many cities around the globe to look for survivors and bury the dead. Even as a soldier he didn't have the stomach to see the bodies of children and animals. He was a logistics man meant for a desk position. The war threw that out the window.

As they progressed back indoors to another seemingly endless hallway, her stride slowed briefly. Her eyes flicked towards the large window as something sped by.

Stripes of silver and blue glistening against the sun.

He thought he heard her breath hitch before she began picking up speed, almost jogging down the corridor as they proceeded to a restricted area. He finally understood where she was going.

The Star Port.

Normally they would need clearance.

But she wasn't any normal person. The new title probably helped too.

The guards acknowledged her wordlessly and allowed her to pass as he fell in behind her.

The halls were smaller. Cramped. It forced her to slow down her pace and allowed him to catch his breath.

As they walked swiftly, the area opened up to a lightness unlike any other. The port held an energy in blue and crème hues from the pulses of the engines. Something about this space was different from the rest of the military facility. There was a calm here devoid of the effects of the devastation outside. At the same time, the soldiers here seem more invigorated by the need to help.

This was the first place to be rebuilt after the war.

This was the first place to exemplify the resilience of humanity.

And they all parted the way for her as she walked by.

The hero was returning home. Not Earth, but her home.

Her ship.

As they approached the terminal, the silver bullet with blue lines had already docked. She waved her hand. The signal for stay back, but she flashed him a smile as she did so, with a glint in her bright green eyes that he couldn't describe. He had never seen her smile before.

Since she was found…

Since she was brought back…

Since she was declared alive….

Since she was repaired…

Since she was reported back to active duty…

It was the most beautiful thing he had seen since the war ended.

So he stood back, at attention, and gave her the respect she deserved as she whisked herself away and behind the door that separated the rest of the world from her sanctuary.

But he continued to watch her like a good soldier, like a good friend, should behind the large viewing glass walls as she stopped just a few feet from the door. A man in the cockpit saluted her, followed by an obvious roll of his eyes. He pointed at her, and made the human signal of "crazy." She grinned back and turned her attention to the pathway before her. Cluttered with cargo boxes and mechanic tools. She took her time until the hiss and pop of the ship's front doors opened.

And then she began to hurdle over the debris in her way.

A Turian clad in blue and black armor, tall, with a visible mark on his face, followed suit.

He bounded over several boxes with ease as he jogged his way down the platform that connected the ship to the docking bay. He stopped at the intersection and turned to her.

She ran. Jumped. Flew into his arms.

He stumbled.

But only a few steps before regaining his balance along a tall stack of metal containers.

She laughed as she kissed him.

His taloned hands ran through her luscious red hair as their foreheads pressed together.

The man whom acted as her bodyguard looked down. His comm. signal beeped. The face of the elderly gentlemen whom they were seeing before appeared before him.

"Lieutenant. Can you round up the Admiral for us in 5? We still have a meeting to finish."

The man flicked his eyes up to the windows and saw the woman and the Turian still embracing while others began to file out of the ship. A Quarian. An Asari. An Alliance soldier. She still held onto the Turian, laughing as she saw the others appear before her.

"Sir, request permission to give her 15?"

A smile beamed from his face.

She was finally home with her family. She deserved the extra time.