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The Citadel must be collapsing. Liara can’t think what else can happen while she rushes to hide underneath the wholly inadequate shelter of the trees lining the Council Chambers. Glass shards rain down alongside entire sections of concrete and panelling. The floor rumbles so badly, she must crawl on all fours to keep moving. Her biotic shield overhead is the only thing keeping her alive.
Goddess, how did I get here? I am only a historian. A scholar of Prothean history. Not a soldier. Definitely not a soldier. Lest of all, one that fights on the front lines. Why am I here? I shouldn’t be here! This is all a mistake. A dream. No, a nightmare!
Thoughts zip through her mind as she scrambles for safety. Her muscles scream for rest. Her head pounds from biotic overuse. But she has to push on. To stop is to give up. And giving up is sure death. She scans her surroundings. Nothing is as she remembered. Where once there had been a clear path to the Council Chambers from the elevators, there are only chunks of fallen debris—some look suspiciously like pieces of Sovereign itself—turning the landscape completely foreign.
Liara had been fighting Saren alongside Shepard and Alenko. Saren had died. Then, the Citadel just exploded. With smoke obscuring her vision and the primal need for safety, she moved.
Where are the others? Are they dead? Goddess, I hope they are not. Please let them survive. Please, especially Shepard…
“Liara!”
Recognising the voice, she searches for its source. “Here, Kaidan!” She braces herself against the nearest wall to stand as the rumbling settles. But she yanks her hand away when the wall shifts. It isn’t a wall, but a piece of Sovereign itself. The thought of touching a reaper both intrigued and repulsed her all at the same time.
Kaidan comes into view through the choking smoke. The battle has marked his armour, heavily scratched and dented in parts. Blood runs down one side of his neck, but otherwise he looks no worse for wear. “Are you okay? Hurt?” As a medic, Kaidan has access to all active squad member’s vitals when they are on a mission. He checks his omni-tool, where he monitors her vitals.
“Elevated pulse and blood pressure, but that’s completely understandable under the circumstances.” He chuckles in that shaky, giddy way after surviving something nobody should. “Nothing life-threatening.”
Liara nods. “I’m okay. I need to catch my breath. What happened?”
Kaidan shakes his head. “I don’t know. Saren went down, and then everything went to shit.” He looks around and frowns. “Where’s Shepard?”
“I’ve not seen her. I thought she is with you.”
“No. I thought she’s with you…” Kaidan grimaces and checks his omni-tool. “I don’t see her vitals here.”
Liara stiffens. Her pulse races at the thought of Shepard being dead. “Kaidan… Is she…”
Shepard is a capable soldier. She has survived worse things than a reaper crashing down on them. If Kaidan—a soldier—and her—definitely not a soldier—can come through relatively unscathed, the Commander can’t have fallen. Goddess, she is an N7 operative, a Spectre. She just can’t—
Her thoughts spin inside her skull like a centrifuge as she grips her arms to keep from shaking.
“No, Liara. She will be okay,” Kaidan reassures her, but his face remains pinched with worry. His eyes drift over to the collapsed section of the chambers, where the bulk of Sovereign lies. “The debris can block the signals to her suit.”
“This close?” Liara asks.
Kaidan grimaces. “Even if the Commander is dead—” He hastily adds when her face fell. “—it wouldn’t just show nothing. I expect her suit’s transmitter or medi-suite is down. Regardless, we must look for her.”
Liara nods. She launches herself towards the centre of all that debris to look. Kaidan follows while he tries to raise the Normandy. She doesn’t pay attention to his conversation because something else catches her ears now that the rumbling has stopped.
Screams… Screams of the people living and working on the Citadel. The ordinary citizens, the mother who repairs Avina when it gets damaged, the father that sells weapons at the shop, the child who studies in one of the wards. They are screaming.
Liara presses her hand to her mouth to keep from gasping out loud. She glances over her shoulder at Kaidan. He doesn’t hear the screams—not yet at any rate—but he will soon. For now, he remains focused on his omni-tool and his conversation with someone. Maybe Joker, maybe his Captain Anderson. She shakes her head to corral her racing thoughts into a pen.
Concentrate on the task at hand. Shepard first. Everything else later.
Liara is at her wits at end. The Council Chambers isn’t large. Sure, it is a few hundred metres from the elevator to the chambers themselves. Add the multiple levels overlooking it, there is a lot of ground to cover. But the fight with Saren took place in the central area. There’s only so many places Shepard could be unless…
She glances at the gaping hole right where something—pieces of Sovereign or missiles from the ship defending the Citadel and the Destiny Acension missed their targets—had hit the Citadel. It now opens out onto the lower levels. And it is a very long way down.
Giving the hole a wide berth, she tries moving smaller pieces of rubble with her biotics at first, but the surrounding pieces collapse further. Each time, Kaidan scans the area and reassures her that nobody is trapped underneath. Since moving the wreckage is out of the question, it keeps them from searching vast swaths of the Chambers. If this had been a dig site, she could have easily taken charge.
- Step one: split the field into a grid layout.
- Step two: methodically work through this grid to locate each find and mark it out
- Step three: move on to the next grid until the marking is complete
This? This is just chaos. Liara hums a broken, high-pitched noise. It holds all of her worries she doesn’t want to give voice to. Shepard is okay. She will be fine. Like a mantra, she repeats it mentally until she believes it again. Wait… She steps back. If a dig site is unstable, there are mass effect devices that can stabilise it. But the Citadel itself is too large for a pair of biotics to stabilise. So, what she needs is to tackle the problem from a different angle.
Without thinking, she summons her biotics. Her field must have brushed against Kaidan’s ambient one because he asks, “Liara, what are you doing?”
She is already hovering in the air and lifting herself higher. “Looking at our problem from a new angle.”
“But you’re risking biotic overuse. Even as an asari, with higher thresholds, you’re risking brain damage, seizures—”
Before Kaidan can finish his warning, Liara is a good ten metres off the ground. Up here, she can see much better. There are pockets where it’s entirely cut off via a ground-level approach. A boom echoes from somewhere else on the Citadel, shaking smaller debris loose. Liara flinches, but she doesn’t stop checking the newly accessible areas.
Movement catches her attention. She freezes and hones in.
“Liara, do you see something?” Kaidan calls.
Liara waves a hand at him without looking. She shifts closer. There, a familiar head of red hair—now turned a dull brown—covered in dust and matted by sweat and… A jolt runs down Liara’s spine. “Kaidan! Over here! I’ve found Shepard!”
“Hey Liara.” Those are Shepard’s first words the moment Liara lands next to her. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s okay, just got a little stuck. That’s all.”
Liara can’t wipe the anxiety and worry off her face. Sovereign crashing down on the Citadel has made shrapnel of glass and metal. And some must have punctured Shepard’s helmet because it sits with its visor shattered next to her splayed out legs. The hood of her bodysuit, which usually fits snugly over her head, now drapes shredded and loose like a deflated balloon around her neck. The suit covers soldiers from head to toe, providing vitals monitoring. Shepard’s hair, normally a brilliant eye-catching crimson, is now dark brown. Made so by drying blood and soot from the fires. The braid she usually keeps it in is now loose and messy. A trail of red covers the entire left side of her face and continues to drip onto her armour. Liara’s eyes widen as she notices shrapnel embedded in Shepard’s scalp.
Blood. So much blood. Shepard is bleeding. I must stop the bleeding. Wait, no. What’s the first step of first aid? Check… Check for breathing.
“Shepard, can you breathe well?” Liara blurts and immediately understands how stupid her question is. Shepard is taking tight, shallow breaths, but is clearly breathing. So, her breathing must be okay. Is okay. Will be okay.
“Liara, look at me.” Shepard sounds surprisingly calm, despite all that bleeding.
Liara jerks her eyes off Shepard’s head wound. Shepard’s chartreuse eyes grounds her the moment their eyes meet. “Just breathe… not the way I am now, but deep ones,” Shepard says. Pain stretches her face taut despite her efforts to keep it hidden.
Deep breaths. Liara can do that. It’s simple, right? Ignore that galloping heart of hers. Just inhale and exhale. “Okay. I got it.” She hates her voice coming out high-pitched and strained. Shepard is hurt; she isn’t. Yet the Commander is guiding her through a breathing exercise? “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. Just bleeding. Omni-tool’s not working.” She lifts her arm. Her omni-tool flickers before fizzling out. “Can you get—”
“Liara, where is she?” Kaidan shouts before landing next to them. “Fuck. Shepard, you—” He lifts his omni-tool and immediately scans Shepard. His face darkens at the readout. “I’m calling for a medivac. Liara, if you have any more medi-gel, give it to Shepard. Here’s mine.” He pops his from his suit with the ease of muscle memory and hands his over. “You remember how to do it?”
“I do, Kaidan,” Liara says. Her fingers tingle as she fumbles for the compartment by her thigh.
“Sounds good, Alenko. Not going anywhere,” Shepard replies, chuckling lowly. She turns her attention to Liara and gestures for Liara to come closer. Liara complied. When Liara is close enough, Shepard takes Liara’s hand and squeezes it weakly. “You've got this.”
Liara nods. Feeling steadier, she got the compartment open and detached any unused medi-gel packs. Shepard grunts as she tries to get hers open with one hand. Liara takes Shepard’s hand and moves it away. “I’ve got this.”
Shepard chuckles but winces when the motion hurts her. Liara works faster. She slips the packs in and closes the compartment. Kaidan takes over. He links his omni-tool up to Shepard’s suit via a hard link. It's obvious when the medi-gel gets dispensed because Shepard relaxes. The deep furrow between her brow eases—slightly.
“Medivac is on the way, Shepard,” Kaidan says. “Think you can stand?”
“Don’t think so,” Shepard confesses.
That alarms both Kaidan and Liara. “What’s wrong? Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head?” Liara asks. She glances at Shepard’s broken helmet again.
Shepard grimaces and pulls her right hand from where she had been pressing against her flank. Kaidan’s eyes widen. “Shepard, you should have told me.” He lifts his hand to scan her wound.
Liara stares. A metal rebar, the diameter of her thumb and forefinger combined, protrudes from Shepard’s abdomen. Blood oozes slowly from the wound, a slow tickle that Shepard keeps controlled by applying pressure. Liara winces in sympathy.
Goddess. This is terrible. A metal rebar through Shepard. It’s not even straight but angled acutely. That means it hits more of Shepard’s organs?
“Shepard, this is not good,” Kaidan says.
Shepard snorts. “I know, Alenko. Like I said, I’m stuck. But there’s nothing else you can do.” She takes a deep breath and shutters her pain behind the mask of the Commander. “Alenko, report.”
Kaidan pulls Shepard’s hand from her wound and applies pressure himself. “You’re doing a terrible job.”
“Fuck…” She stifles a groan and goes all white. “A little warning next time.” Gasping in tight, strained breaths, her hand flails about for a solid object to ground her.
Liara catches Shepard’s hand and feels Shepard’s grip crushing her hand. “I’ve got you…”
Shepard nods tightly, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “What’s the Normandy’s status? Is everyone okay?” she asked despite being in what must be excruciating pain. “Are you both okay?” She peels her eyes open to scrutinise both of them.
“Joker reports the Normandy took on heavy fire, but the ship is still functional and flying. Captain Anderson is in charge right now. The captain got them patrolling the space around the Citadel,” Kaidan replies. His voice sounds steady, though he wears his worries along the tight line of his jaw.
Shepard nods. Relief flickers across her face. “What about the two? The fight with Saren has been difficult.”
“We are okay. Just tired and bruised,” Liara replies. Kaidan nods in confirmation.
A low rumbling groan fills the space. It is loud enough to set the ground shaking. Both Liara and Kaidan huddle closer to Shepard and shelter her from falling rubble. All three freeze in place, holding their breaths, as they wait to see if the roof will collapse. Eventually, everything settles again.
A scream pierces the silence. Shepard jerks. Her hand goes to her pistol that’s usually strapped to her thigh. The holster sits empty. “Kaidan, go,” she barks.
“What? No, you’re hurt, I should stay with you,” Kaidan points out. “I’m the medic.”
“Yes, but you can’t do anything for me. Liara and I will wait for the medivac. Rendezvous with C-Sec and assist them with civilian rescue. If you see any Alliance soldiers, gather them up on my order and go help,” Shepard insists. Though pale and shaky, she remains resolute. Even badly injured, she is still the Commander.
Kaidan grits his teeth, not speaking for a moment.
“You have your orders, Staff Lieutenant Alenko,” Shepard growls.
“Yes, Commander,” he replies. His shoulders slumps. “Liara, can you take over? Keep the pressure on until the medivac arrives. They will be here soon.”
Liara nods. “On three?”
Kaidan nods. “One.”
Shepard lets go of Liara’s hand and braces herself. Jaw tight, breath coming shallow and quick. “Two.”
Kaidan shifts to give Liara more space. “Three.”
Kaidan steps away. Liara takes his place and pushes down hard on Shepard’s wound. Shepard lets out a sharp, short cry. The sound is jagged enough to cut through Liara’s armour and into her chest. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…”
“No, that’s good. Keep me alive…” Shepard gasps.
Kaidan sighs heavily. “Don’t die, Commander.”
“Of course not, Staff Lieutenant,” Shepard replies. Their eyes meet over Liara’s shoulder. Shepard nods. Liara feels Kaidan’s biotic field expands when he takes to the sky.
Now they are truly alone. If Liara thinks she’s anxious before, she realises she doesn’t truly understand what genuine anxiety is.
Shepard is flagging. Even Liara can see that. The Commander tries to keep Liara’s worries from spiralling out of control, but when the medi-gel’s efficacy fades, she speaks less and less.
“Stay with me, Shepard,” Liara says. “You can’t fall asleep.”
“Not sleeping,” Shepard replies. Her words slow, her voice low. “Just resting. Never realised having a rebar rammed through me is so tiring.” She hangs her head as her brow twists.
“Shepard, please…” Liara reaches out with one hand and hesitates. Her hand hovers inches from Shepard’s face, close but not touching.
This is inappropriate. Shepard had never expressed an interest in her, or anyone, to her knowledge. She is the Commander, their leader. Goddess, she must be the Hero of the Citadel after killing Saren and stopping Sovereign. Holding herself an arm’s length from everyone, friendly but always professional. Liara cannot take advantage of Shepard in her moment of hurt and pain.
But when Shepard’s head lolls to the side, Liara’s palm is there to catch her. The contact sends tingles up Liara’s arm. It fills her chest with a warmth she can’t deny. “Shepard, please.”
Shepard peels her eyelids open as if anchors weighed them down. Pain glazed and soft, their eyes meet. Liara’s breath catches painfully in her chest.
“I’m here…” Shepard whispers.
Liara bites her lip. “Don’t go.” She can’t bear to see Shepard suffering. Having failed her mother already, she cannot fail Shepard too.
“Not going anywhere, I promise…”
For a moment, time feels suspended. Liara leans closer. Shepard’s head tilts. With their faces so close, Liara can feel Shepard’s breath against her cheek.
Then, Liara’s omni-tool crackles. “Medivac here, what’s your location?”
The tension snaps. The moment gone.
Liara grabs a dented panel—large but light—and sends it up into the air. She spins it around for good measure. “Can you see the marker? Can you get over here?”
“We see you, but we will need time to cut through the debris to get through,” the voice replies.
“Can you send someone over first? The Commander is not doing well, and she is stuck.”
“Stuck?”
“Yes.” Liara rattles off what she sees.
“If I can get my medics close, can you bring them down using biotics?”
Liara grimaces. Her pounding headache is one step shy of a migraine. But Shepard needs her help. She must try. “Yes.”
Shepard looks at her, gaze heavy with exhaustion. “I can wait. You don’t have to push yourself. It’s not safe. Even asaris have their limits.”
“It’s not safe for you to wait one second longer,” Liara counters.
“Touché…” Shepard grimaces. “But you don’t have to stay once the medics get here. It won’t be pretty to watch.”
Liara frowns. She reaches for Shepard’s cheek properly this time. Her bare hand touches Shepard’s skin. She almost flinches at how cold Shepard feels, but she stifles it. “Stay with me, Shepard.”
“I am, I will,” Shepard says like it’s easy to make such a promise. But Liara believes her regardless.
It doesn’t take long before the medivac hovers overhead. Its thrusters blast dirt, dust and rubble everywhere. Liara shielded Shepard from the brunt of it as the medics lowered themselves down with cables. But the cables aren’t long enough to reach the ground. It’s not safe for the shuttle to lower itself any further. Liara took care of the rest of the distance using her biotics.
“I’m Maximus Surrian, call me Max,” says the turian who arrives first. He scans Shepard and grimaces. “I’m going to get her started on an IV while my partner—” Max gestures at the salarian with him. “—Razen Ukin will assess how to get her out of here.”
Liara nods. Relief floods her body to have professionals here. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Keep pressure on the wound. It helps,” Max says. He checks her form. “Harder. It won’t be comfortable, but a little pain now is better than the alternative, right?”
Liara glances at Shepard. Shepard nods. “It’s okay. You’re helping.”
She grits her teeth and uses both hands and renews her pressure against Shepard’s wound. Shepard tips her head back against the wall she is stuck to and takes shuddering breaths.
“Commander Shepard, I’m going to have to remove your armour,” Max says. “Any booby traps on Spectre-grade armour?”
Shepard opens her mouth to speak, but only a hissed exhale comes out. She shakes her head and gestures where and how to pop the plates. Max works fast. Long fingers with practice working on soldiers and their armour. Soon, the chest piece is off along with all pieces running down Shepard’s arms. Meanwhile, Razen studies the slab that Shepard is attached to. A million different things grab for Liara’s focus.
What’s Max doing? Starting an IV, I hope. He'd better start with painkillers. Or something stronger than medi-gel. Is the pressure sufficient? Should I press harder? I can feel Shepard’s wound bleeding. My hands are all sticky with blood. Shepard’s blood. Goddess. There’s so much blood everywhere. Where’s Razen? He’s gone to the back of the wall. Why? Will we need to move Shepard with the wall? That’s not logical. They must cut the rebar right? But… how?
The rip of a pair of scissors through fabric yanks Liara’s attention back to the present. She blinks and realises Max has sliced through Shepard’s bodysuit down to her waist. The two halves gather around Shepard’s lap. Whole swaths of bare human skin hold all of Liara’s attention. Shepard isn’t half naked by any means. A pair of sports bra stands between Shepard and total bare skin. But to Liara, Shepard might as well be. This is more naked skin she has ever seen with her own eyes before. Especially Shepard’s. Cris-crossed all over Shepard’s upper half are scars from old battles and patches of bruises from their fight with Saren. Having gleaned that much, Liara wrenches her eyes away. She doesn’t know where it is safe to look. With her position applying pressure to Shepard’s abdomen, her choices are limited to Shepard’s face, Shepard’s chest, or all the blood that coats her body and amour. Everything feels inappropriate or too panic-inducing. Worse, she can’t stop the blush that rides up her cheeks. Thankfully, Shepard doesn’t comment if she notices.
Max attaches electrodes to Shepard’s chest and clips a device to her index finger. He checks his omni-tool for a moment. Liara glances at him. She sees Shepard’s vitals reflected against the visor Max wears. The numbers in the reflection make no sense to her, but Max’s action afterward scares her. He grabs his bag of supplies and pulls out a tank and attaches a tube to it before looping the mask around Shepard’s face.
“Deep breaths,” Max says. “We will get you out soon.” He stands and hurries to his partner.
Liara doesn’t like this one bit. She looks at Shepard. “Still with me?”
“Yeah…” Shepard’s breath fogs up the mask. “Getting tired though.” She cants forward.
Liara positions herself to catch Shepard with her body. Shepard’s head comes to a gentle stop against Liara’s shoulder. The weight of Shepard’s head isn’t that heavy, but its significance nearly bows Liara’s shoulder. Even with the mask on, Liara hears Shepard’s breath grow heavy and laboured. “You will be okay,” Liara says, trying to sound as confident as Shepard always does.
Shepard only grunts. Her breath grows a little less strained. But the weight she puts on Liara’s shoulder only increases as she rapidly loses her ability to keep up the pretense.
Razen walks a short distance away and speaks into his omni-tool while Max returns. “We have a plan.”
Liara listens and officially decides she hates the plan.
“Do it,” Shepard says.
Max looks at Shepard. If doubt is physical, it will take up the entire Council chambers. “At least let me give you a local,” he counters.
“Sure, but we don’t have—” The rest of Shepard’s sentence falls off a cliff figuratively when the chambers shake. Liara stiffens but maintains her position as Shepard’s support. “—time.”
Max grimaces. “Fine, it’s your funeral, Commander.”
“I know.” Shepard lifts her head. Her body is tight, stretched in a way that combat hasn’t tested before. Grim, yes. But she doesn’t look like she has given up. Liara sees Shepard’s determination to try, to do, to live, in every line of her body. Pain doesn’t look so foreign on Shepard. It hurts Liara to realise.
Their eyes meet. “Shepard, are you sure? Not even a local?” Liara asks.
“Either we try it now without, or we risk having everything come down on everyone. I'd rather you leave me behind if it comes to that,” Shepard says without a quiver.
How can Shepard speak of dying so easily? As if it doesn’t cost her to do this her way? Liara grimaces. “No. I won’t leave you alone.”
“If I give you an order, T’Soni…” Shepard growls. False anger makes her voice rough.
Liara senses no heat in Shepard’s words. “Commander, might I remind you, I am merely an alien contractor on board the Normandy. And we are clearly not on the Normandy right now.”
Shepard blinks. Amusement tugs at the corners of her lips. “Very true, but this is also an emergency, and you should follow the orders of the—”
“Medics,” Max cut in. Shepard glares at him. Max ignores the look. “Razen is ready to start, so when you’re ready…”
Shepard straightens. Even this simple action costs her. She groans and trembles, but her jaw remains tight with stubborn will. “You just need a hand span?”
Max nods. Razen lifts the plasma scythe. Its blade is already red-hot and ready to go. “I prefer a hand span, but I only need ten centimetres. I’ll drape a protective sheet over your back to shield you from the heat.”
“Okay…” Shepard looks at Liara. “Liara, I need your help, but it is uncomfortable. You can say no if you don’t want to—”
Liara can’t believe that after everything they had been through—killing Thresher Maws, dealing with a mind-controlling creature on Feros, trying and failing to save her mother from Reaper influence—Shepard thinks there’s something Liara won’t help her with. “What do you need, Shepard?”
“Let me hold you,” Shepard replies. Her eyes carry a fragile need, wrapped in layers of stoicism and sheer stubbornness.
“Of course…” Liara kneels between Shepard’s legs. Her arms burn from the effort of applying pressure, but she doesn’t stop. Knowing what is coming after, her job is even more important now. “Like this?”
Shepard nods. She wraps her arms around Liara’s waist. Her grip is loose and tentative at first, but tightens as she lowers her head against Liara’s shoulder again. Shepard’s breathing grows slow and deliberate. Liara can feel Shepard bracing herself for what she must do.
“Let us know when you’re ready,” Max says. “Liara will let go. On your count, Shepard.”
Shepard nods again. Her breathing quickens. The Chambers shake again. “Now,” she says.
What happens next must be an exercise in torture. Liara can’t find any other way to describe it. Shepard pushes forward, dragging her body along—through—the rebar. She groans, a low keening that breaks free of her clenched-tight teeth. Hot liquid iron splatters against Liara’s thighs. Her grip on Liara’s biceps tightens. It is strong enough to make Liara’s armour creak. Liara can’t keep the grimace off her face. It is not Shepard’s grip, or her groans, or even the blood that gets to Liara. It is the noise. Wet squelching of raw flesh yanking itself against an unyielding metal rod fills the space. Liara wishes she can unhear that awful sound.
Shepard doesn’t stop. Instead, she slumps against Liara when her strength runs out. She pants heavily. It sounds different—wet, ragged and utterly painful. Liara shoots Max a look, begging him to tell her it is enough. Razen can start cutting. Shepard will be free soon. And they can leave.
Max checks. His mandibles flap helplessly as he shakes his head. “Shepard, you need to do this again. I can help you this time. We will do this in a single go.”
“Okay…” Shepard’s voice comes out thinly. “Just let me catch my breath…”
Liara rubs Shepard’s back gently. “Slow and steady, in and out…” She wishes she can do more. Never has she felt this helpless. The last time this happened, her mother died.
Shepard nods against Liara’s shoulder. “Thank you…”
It takes Shepard a while to pull herself together. The process is physical. She lifts her head off Liara’s shoulder. Her hands release the stranglehold on Liara’s biceps. With muscles tensing, her face hardens and her gaze goes flat, almost blank. This is compartmentalising at work. Pain and discomfort get squeezed into a tiny box and shoved to the back. All that matters is the task ahead. In the time that takes, the trickle from her wound has turned into a steady stream.
Shepard half turns to Max. “On three.”
Max nods. He has his arms around Shepard’s back. “One.”
Liara scoots back and wraps her arms around Shepard’s waist. “Two.”
Shepard squeezes her eyes shut. “Three.”
This time, Shepard cries out. Judging by the intensity of the sharp noise, Liara fears they had torn Shepard in two. But Shepard only moved the additional required distance. All that effort and it was a short mere ten centimetres. Shepard sags wholly, and Liara catches her.
Max rests a protective drape down Shepard’s back. The material looks thin. Liara hopes it works. Razen’s plasma scythe rests against the rebar. Even that tiny motion drags a whimper from Shepard before she cuts it off by biting down on her lip. What is going to happen when the teeth of the saw start cutting? Liara hugs Shepard a little tighter at the thought.
Razen gives no warning. One moment Liara can only hear Shepard’s heavy breathing; the next, the plasma scythe whirls to life. Shepard screams and tries to jerk away. But there is no escaping the bar perforated through her abdomen.
When Razen saws the rebar off, Shepard collapses against Liara. Liara has braced herself, expecting it. Sweat runs down Shepard’s brow, mixing with the crusted blood along her face. It turns Shepard into a ghastly sight. In the brief moment Liara holds Shepard, she feels Shepard trembling uncontrollably, breathing so shallowly she fears Shepard will stop breathing.
”Shepard!” Liara cries in alarm when she realises Shepard is unconscious.
“She just passed out. Don’t worry. She should come around soon,” Max replies.
It does little to ease Liara’s worries, but she must stay calm. Max takes Shepard’s limp body from Liara’s arms and eases her onto her good side. But which is Shepard’s good side? There isn’t one. The rebar had entered Shepard’s back through her left and exited her front on the opposite side.
Liara stares at Shepard’s frontal wound. Where the rebar used to be is now a gaping wound that is streaming blood. The rebar keeps her from bleeding out, but it is also short. To move Shepard onto the medivac, they need to cut the rebar. To move, Shepard must shift her body to allow the plasma scythe to cut the rebar. And this is the price.
Liara takes a shuddering deep breath and presses down on Shepard’s wound again. Shepard doesn’t even react. That scares her the most. “Max, do something!”
“I am!” Max had been focused on his omni-tool. Whatever he saw, he doesn’t like because a grimace twists even a turian’s mandibles. He grabs his gear bag and pulls out supplies.
Meanwhile, Razen races towards the hovering medivac. Liara had lost track of it earlier. She doesn’t remember hearing its thrusters when Shepard was having the worst time. But right now, it is lowering a stretcher towards the ground.
The rustle of packaging being torn apart pulls Liara’s focus back. Max takes Shepard’s arm and palpates it. He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. Moving around, he tries her other arm. “Shit, shit, shit. They are all collapsed.”
“What is happening?” Liara asks.
“He’s trying to set an IV,” Shepard answers instead.
Liara jumps. “Shepard!”
“Sorry, checked out for a minute there cause of the…” Shepard gestures vaguely.
Razen arrives with the stretcher. “We should move Shepard first. Set the IV on board the medivac.”
Max growls. “Yes. We need to get you to the hospital ASAP.”
“Not arguing with you here.” Shepard grimaces. Her hand fumbles about and finds Liara’s knee. “You okay?”
“I am. Just trying to keep your blood inside you,” Liara replies, still applying pressure with her body weight. “I’m sorry for hurting you…”
Shepard chuckles. Normally, the sound sets her heart all aflutter, especially knowing she is responsible for it, but right now, it sounds too wet, too weak, too thin. It’s all wrong. “You’re not… You’re helping. Trust me, you are.”
“Shepard,” Max interrupts. “We are loading you onto the stretcher. The rebar will not make this an easy fit. It is going to—”
“Hurt? That’s a given.” Shepard rolls her head and looks at Max. “Just get me on board, pump me full of drugs and we have a deal.”
Max pulls his mandibles in tight around his face. “Deal.”
Max and Razen move fast. Shepard groans and trembles when they transfer her onto the stretcher. The rebar proves to be her undoing. Her grip on the edge of the stretcher is all that’s keeping her from punching Max and Razen. They secure Shepard down using straps. As she takes short, sharp breaths, each one sounds wetter and more desperate than the last. Her blood coats the stretcher quickly. Max sees it and exchanges a nod with Liara as the lift rises. “I’ll take care of her,” he says. Blood drips off the edge of the stretcher the entire ride up.
It takes forever for the lift to come down for Liara and Razen. She cannot take her eyes away from the bloodstained area where Shepard had lain just moments before. “It will be okay,” Razen says.
Liara nods tightly, but she cannot bring herself to believe him.
As soon as they get on board, Razen pushes her into a seat and straps her in. The door closes and the medivac moves. She has been an active participant in Shepard’s care before, but now she is relegated to being an audience member. It’s unbearable.
Liara notices Max has wrapped a hemo-bandage around Shepard’s wound. Shepard isn’t actively bleeding any longer, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an internal haemorrhage. A panel up against the shuttle’s side displays Shepard’s vitals. Liara stares at it. Putting her knowledge she had picked up from Dr. Chakwas and her research into use.
Elevated heart rate. Low blood pressure. Decreased oxygen saturation. Goddess. Everything is bad. Please, please, please let Shepard be okay. We’re on the way to the hospital. All that effort can’t be for nothing.
Stress is a crown on Liara’s head. It clamps down around her temples, attempting to crush her skull. She interlaces her fingers and grips her hands to keep them from shaking. But all she sees is Shepard’s blood drying on her hands, turning her hands into a mess of purple. With Shepard’s stretcher secured to the floor, right in front of her. Liara stares at Max and Razen working, as if her eyes can make miracles happen.
“Her arteries have collapsed. A central line takes too long,” Max says, flanking Shepard’s stretcher.
“An IO then,” Razen replies from the opposite side. He pulls a handheld drill from the gear bag and hands it over.
Max grabs the offered device and snaps on a drill bit. “It’s going to hurt, Shepard. There’s no time for a local.”
“What doesn’t hurt today?” Shepard replies, her words slurring. It is barely audible above the rumble of the shuttle’s thrusters.
Razen sterilises Shepard’s shoulder while Max palpates the area. “Razen, hold her down.”
The salarian obeys and presses down against Shepard’s arm and shoulder. She hisses. Max holds the drill against her shoulder and pulls the trigger. She jerks, but Razen keeps her steady. Liara half jumps out of her seat. It is only the straps that keep her down. Her instinct to defend Shepard flares, but she quickly reins it in. She keeps her hands clenched at her side.
“The hard part is over,” Max says.
“Easy for you to say,” Shepard retorts. But it is barely a mutter at this point.
“Shepard,” Razen calls, “stay with us.”
Several bags dangle from the roof of the shuttle. Each one is connected to the tube leading to Shepard’s shoulder. As Max adjusts the flow, Shepard groans. “Fuck… You guys don’t make this easy…” But she sighs, visibly relaxing for the first time in the entire day. “This is the good stuff.”
Liara sags against her seat, eyes squeezing shut. She fumbles for her omni-tool. With a couple of quick taps, she sends Kaidan an update regarding Shepard’s situation.
Picked up by medivac. Heading towards Huerta Memorial Hospital.
Maybe, just maybe, she can trust this strange feeling in her chest. Hope—that’s what it is. Hope that everything will be okay. They have succeeded after all, ending Saren’s plan, preventing Sovereign from gaining access to the Citadel. This is what victory looks like right?
As soon as that thought slips into Liara’s mind, pushing the dark fears away, Shepard coughs. Curled at an angle, Shepard’s body contorts around her wound as she hacks—wet, harsh and raw. Then, red paints the inside of Shepard’s oxygen mask.
Liara stifles a scream by pressing a hand against her mouth, smearing Shepard’s blood against her face.
The monitor on the panel blinks red, and alarms blare. “Spirits,” Max curses under his breath and gets to work. He turns Shepard onto her back, heedless of the pain this must cause her. Blood sprays from Shepard’s mouth as he yanks the mask off. Grabbing a tube that hangs to the side, he shoves it into Shepard’s mouth. Shepard coughs and chokes around it. Red liquid travels through the tube as Liara watches in horror.
Time slows and warps. Reality stretches as if they have slipped through a mass relay without meaning to. Liara’s vision goes blurry. Iron fills her senses. She realises she hates the stench so much. It is everywhere, and it all belongs to Shepard. “Please help her!”
Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please…
Plastic packaging tears. Fabric rips. Max and Razen call out instructions to each other. Shepard continues to choke. The tube pulls blood from her mouth and throat. Liara’s vision clears for a moment only to go hazy again.
“We have to intubate,” Max says. “Administering the cocktail.”
“Hemothorax on the left,” Razen reports. “Going in with a chest tube.”
Liara is grateful that she can’t see clearly because the noises Shepard makes are terrible enough. Like a traitor, she looks away. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor. There, nothing is going wrong. Everything is all right. Shepard—the person she has been entrusted to care for—isn’t dying mere inches away. Yet, her eyes hook onto the bloodstains on her armour. Her nose picks out the iron in the air. Worse, her body shakes no matter how hard she holds herself. Nausea roils as her gut clenches.
Liara clamps her lips shut and clenches her jaw. No, she cannot throw up. She must not. But her effort is futile. Her body will do what it wants. Acid rushes up her throat, searing her from the inside out. It splatters onto the floor. If she isn’t already crying, she would have wailed. But Shepard is dying; her agony means nothing in the face of that. So, Liara weeps quietly.
Liara doesn’t know when the alarms stop shrieking, Shepard no longer sounds like she is dying. As Liara returns to herself, her vision has cleared. Though her hands, shoulders and neck ache, she feels calm. Looking up, she gasps at the sight before her.
Shepard lies on her back. A tube, wider than the rebar that runs through her, snakes down her mouth and throat. Her chest moves up and down mechanically. That’s when Liara realises Shepard’s chest is bare. The last shred that stands between Shepard and her modesty has been sliced through. Another tube protrudes from Shepard’s chest. That one dribbles blood onto the shuttle’s floor.
The lump in Liara’s throat swells to three times its previous size. She opens her mouth to speak around it, but no words come through. She coughs and tries again. “Max, what is our ETA?” Her eyes never leave Shepard’s face.
“Two minutes. I’ve already radioed ahead. They will take her in for emergency surgery once we arrive,” Max replies. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Liara replies. It’s not true, but if she wasn’t dying like Shepard, she must be all right. Yes? “Will she be okay?” Max doesn’t answer immediately. Liara’s flicks up to meet his. “Tell me she will be okay.”
Max still doesn’t answer. And that was answer enough.
Liara doesn’t sit but collapses onto the chair in the waiting room. Scared families, worried parents, crying partners fill it. Who is she? Shepard’s friend? Shepard’s colleague? Or worse, someone who had just watched Shepard’s last moments?
When Shepard arrives, the doctors and nurses whisk her away behind closed doors. They throw words like “failing vitals”, “ruptured organs” and “ongoing internal hemorrhage” between them. Liara is too numb to parse the information. A nurse intercepts her before she can sink onto the floor and stay there. He thrusts a tablet into her hand and tells her to fill it up.
Liara takes the tablet to the waiting room. And that’s where she stays, still gripping onto the tablet. It is a patient intake form. One whose information she can barely fill up.
Name
Date of birth
Species
Home Address
Extranet Address
Drug Allergies (if any)
Emergency Contact details
Liara pulls herself together. This is a form. Not a thesis defense, not attempting to convince Matriarchs of her knowledge, definitely not combat, and most certainly not surgery. She shudders and forcibly pulls her mind from that line of thought. Taking a deep breath, she sets to her task. She fills it with what she knows from speaking to Shepard and what she remembers from her research.
When she gets to the bit for an emergency contact, she puts her name and contact information down. Her overstimulated brain idly wonders if Shepard has family. She realises she doesn’t know. If Shepard has any, they can amend the form later. Until then, Liara is all Shepard has.
If that isn’t sad, she doesn’t know what is.
Liara sighs and stares at the tablet. Her eyes glide over the questions there. She sees all the gaps it has. Nothing gets to the heart of Commander Riley Shepard. She is the Skyllian Blitz hero. She is a Spectre. But underneath all those accolades, she is a person who listens when Ashley talks about her family, who discusses C-sec policies with Garrus, who eats greasiest of human fast food with Joker, who teaches Tali how to hold her own amongst her squamates, who spars with Wrex and Kaidan with the fiercest grin on her face. And most of all, someone who accepts her—Liara, daughter of the enemy—onto her ship.
And she is Liara’s… crush?
That thought no longer brings a blush rushing up her face. It only awakens an ache in her chest that no medi-gel can ease. Liara knows she will nurse this feeling for a long time because she can’t bring herself to reveal it to Shepard. Certainly not now.
For now, Shepard has to pull through. She must.
Liara doesn’t know how long she sits there. Someone comes to take the tablet from her. The people in the waiting room come and go. Nurses usher families into private rooms where the walls can’t muffle their wails. New people join Liara in her wait. Everyone’s tightly wound anxieties lock them in their minds.
And that’s how Kaidan and Ashley find her. The weight Liara has been carrying slides off her shoulders as the humans pull her into a group hug.
While waiting, Ashley bullied Liara into washing up in the public bathroom. She is grateful. Not having Shepard’s blood coating her hands makes her feel better. Ashley hands her a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to change into. Stripping out of her armour takes more effort than she anticipated. When it is off, she feels the weight of the day tugging her body horizontal. It is like her armour is the only thing keeping her upright.
When she steps out of the bathroom, Ashley practically throws a couple of calorie-dense gel packs at her. It’s meant to help keep biotics fueled in combat. Liara wants to refuse, but the stubborn set of Ashley’s jaw tells her it’s safer to just suck the packs down. Kaidan chugs two packs in solidarity. Dutifully, she swallows them and, to her surprise, her headache eases.
Kaidan fills her in about the others. Everyone got through the battle relatively unscathed. But they are helping with rescue efforts. Captain Anderson had sent him to the hospital with Ashley because—
“—because the Staff Lieutenant here almost blew his amp out from overuse,” Ashley fills in.
Kaidan sighs. “That didn’t happen.”
“That’s not what I saw, Alenko,” Ashley says. “Look, an empty seat next to Liara. You should plant your ass down. We don’t need both ranking officers down for the count.”
Kaidan grumbles but sits next to Liara.
Time ceased to have meaning. Liara doesn’t bother checking her omni-tool. She can’t tell if it is still the same day. In the hospital, the day and night cycle feels the same because the lights never change. Eventually, her head droops, and she almost nods herself off the chair entirely. Kaidan offers his shoulder, and she accepts gratefully.
She meant only to rest her head. But the time between her blinks grows longer and longer until minutes pass between each one. She must have fallen asleep because the next time she opens her eyes, it is to Ashley’s gentle shaking.
“What is it?” Liara jolts to her feet.
“The surgery is done,” Ashley replies. “The doctor will address us.”
Everyone cramps themselves into the room. When Liara says everyone, she means Wrex, Tali, Garrus, Joker, even Captain Anderson and the three of them. There is barely any shoulder room. “Is Shepard alive?” Wrex asks, breaking the tension.
The doctor looks curiously at the assorted audience assembled. “Yes. She is. The surgery is touch and go for a while, but the Commander has a strong will.”
“Told you she’s stubborn.” Garrus nudged Tali.
“Will she make a full recovery?” Liara asks.
“Yes, I expect so, but we will need to regrow her kidney. Organ growing has quite a queue right now, given the circumstances. Normally, as an Alliance soldier, she will be prioritised but… as a human, she has another functional kidney. So she will have to wait.”
Liara doesn’t know what to think. Regrowing a whole new kidney? That means Shepard’s original kidney can’t be saved. Is it something she did? Or didn’t do? Ashley wraps a hand around Liara’s shoulder, not speaking. But the contact grounds Liara.
“How long will that take?” Tali asks.
“The wait at least a month, if not longer. Unless the Alliance has facilities elsewhere?” The doctor glances at the Captain.
“I will make arrangements,” Anderson replies.
“In any case, she will need a second surgery once the kidney is ready for implantation,” the doctor says.
“Are there any other injuries we should know about?” Anderson asks.
“Other than a couple of broken ribs, a punctured lung which we repaired, and a perforated liver, we had to trim a section of intestines because they are too damaged, but otherwise, Commander Shepard is expected to pull through, baring complications,” the doctor replies.
“Told you Saren can’t take her down,” Wrex says. “That woman is tougher than a Thresher Maw.”
“Not even Sovereign can take her down,” Garrus agrees.
Tali frowns and nudges both of them into silence. Ashley holds Liara a little tighter. “The Commander is okay. You did well, Liara.”
Liara doesn’t feel she did. And so, despite everyone telling her to rest, she settles into a chair at Shepard’s bedside. The others left after setting up a rotation to check in on Shepard. As exhausted as she feels, she cannot leave Shepard’s side. Not yet. Not until she sees Shepard’s eyes open again. But the steady beeping from Shepard’s heart rate monitor lulls her to sleep.
Someone has run Shepard over with a Mako twice. When she can move her limbs without feeling they may fall off her joints, she is going to get the fucker court-martialed. It will be awesome if she can fall back to sleep, but that incessant beeping noise is driving her crazy. That, and her body aches, her muscles feel stiff, breathing is difficult. Overlaying all that discomfort is the sensation that she may float away if someone doesn’t strap her down. She stiffens.
Red Sand?
Instinctively, Shepard reaches for her core, dipping into that well of power she always has, and finds it empty.
Definitely not Red Sand
Shepard knows how Red Sand makes her feel. It’s not an experience she cares to repeat ever. Being a Red Sand addict teen is enough in her books.
But losing connection to her biotics sends a secondary spike of anxiety. She forces her eyes open. A stupid mistake if she had ever made one. Light is now her enemy, and it’s stabbing her eyes. She grunts and squeezes them shut again. In the few seconds she has them open, she knows she isn’t in her personal quarters on the Normandy or its medbay, which she is a guest of occasionally. It’s certainly not the coffin of a room she doesn’t know why she bothers renting on Arcturus.
She risks opening her eyes again, this time more slowly. White walls, check. White sheets, check. Tile floors, check. Right, a hospital. That explains where her biotics went. The docs must have her on an inhibitor—chemical or physical. But why? Her mind is foggy as she struggles to pull her memories together, like teasing silk from silkworms. Taking individual threads and weaving them into a tapestry, albeit a patchy one.
She blinks to clear her vision and takes in the rest of the room. A curtain partitions her room, likely from more patients on the other side with similarly noisy monitors beeping away. No windows along any wall. A chair and—
Liara.
Shepard’s hazy memories sharpen instantly. A pair of blue eyes anchoring her own. A soft voice telling her to hold on. A pair of hands keeping her alive. And here she is, alive. Exactly as she semi-promised Liara. Tension slips from her body as soon as she pieces her memories together. She is okay, and so is Liara. And that’s enough. Her eyes flutter shut, content in knowing that everything is okay.
Liara grunts and unfurls her spine. Falling asleep on the hard plastic chair is a mistake that will take several proper biotic massages to work out. But opening her eyes to see Shepard still sleeping, still resting, it eases the worries plaguing her earlier.
She frowns when she sees Shepard’s blanket has been pushed down to her hips. How did that happen? Maybe Shepard has shifted in her sleep. It won’t do for her to catch a cold now. Liara reaches for the blankets and hesitates.
Is it weird? Is it inappropriate? Should I tuck her in? What if someone sees me? Do I care if someone sees me? This is for Shepard’s wellbeing. I’m not being weird at all. No, not at all. I should stop being weird about it. Just do it. It’s just a blanket. Nothing weird at all.
Before she second-guesses herself, she draws the blanket up to Shepard’s chest. She grips the railing along the bed to resist the urge of smoothing Shepard’s hair back into place. Seeing it unravelled from its usual braid is strange. Red hair splayed out like waves on a sea of white. Her eyes trek across Shepard’s body, knowing what wounds lie underneath. The gaping wounds, the missing kidney, the way Shepard had looked almost as white as the sheets she lies on now. Here in the hospital, everything looks clean, proper and just fine. It erases the heart-stopping, gut-churning events of the past day. But it doesn’t remove them from Liara’s mind.
Liara remembers the way Shepard had bled, the grimace that twisted her lips, the set in her jaw, and the sheer will she brought to bear. The Commander is a woman forged from steel. She is the spearhead that protects the Citadel, but who protects her?
Liara looks at Shepard, still feeling that flutter in her gut, but there’s something else too. It’s intangible, nameless and nebulous. Releasing her grip on the railing, she looks at her hands. They are clean now, but her palms remember the sticky wet feeling of Shepard’s blood. She has done a poor job before. Panicking and feeling anxious the entire time. Silently, she promises Shepard she will do better next time.
If Shepard must throw herself at the galaxy’s troubles, Liara will do her best to protect Shepard in turn. Because even a hero needs a protector.