She woke with a gasp and gulped in the dusty air that blanketed her. Darkness surrounded her, activating senses other than her sight. She became vaguely aware of her ears alternating between a deafening ringing and an eerie silence. The air smelled rotten and burning; a putrid scent that invaded her nostrils and stuck there, unrelenting. She barely suppressed the urge to puke. Her free hand groped the space around her. She was lying on something hard, angular blocks covering her sides and the lower part of her body. Her hand went up to feel her face and hit her helmet with a dull thud. She fingered it for any breaches and discovered that the part covering her eyes was there no longer. Her nose was wet and felt grainy. She pulled her hand back and tried to focus her thoughts. They escaped her.

A childlike ghost appeared in her mind's eye. She immediately felt anger. Had it been a dream? No. It had been real.

The Catalyst.

She remembered now. A red beam growing, rising in power. The power of extermination. She had been scared. Somehow, she knew that. But scared of what? It eluded her. She needed to focus more, harder. That felt familiar.

Another ghost appeared next to the Catalyst. It was a man with a dark complexion. He was wearing a baseball cap. Solemn eyes looked at her. His lips parted and he spoke, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. The ringing in her ears swelled to a boom in her vision as she desperately fought to hear the man's voice. She knew it was important to listen, but she couldn't. She tried to tell him to speak louder, but her voice refused to cooperate. Her throat burned and ached in agitation. She felt powerless. She couldn't reach him in time. Couldn't help him.

Help with what?

He died. As his apparition dissolved, she tried to scream. Let him know he had to stay. Let him know that she needed him, though she wasn't sure why. But she was powerless.

Another man appeared. This man was well-groomed and well-dressed, a cigarette casually placed in his hand. His smile sent a jolt of revulsion through her and she had to fight back the bile rising in her stomach. His eyes twinkled as he regarded her coolly. The ringing in her ears stopped.

"We brought you back for this."

The Catalyst smiled too, now. Three colors appeared in front of her: red, blue, green. She tried to point at the red color, but the blue hue intensified. The well-groomed man smiled again and tapped his cigarette. Its rapidly cooling ashes covered her face and her breathing became more laboured. Her throat felt raw. She spat out something sticky and hard.

"We know you like blue. It has always been your only choice."

She didn't know what he was referring to, but anger flared up in her again. She wanted to tell him to shut up and leave her alone. Tell him that he wasn't pulling the strings, not anymore. He didn't get to tell her what she liked and what she had to do. He was not in control.

Control.

Blue light blinded her vision and the man exploded. No, he hadn't been in control, something had been controlling him. But what? She looked again at the Catalyst. It stood unmoving between red and green. It called out to her.

"Shepard."

She supposed that's who she was. It did sound familiar. She nodded at the Catalyst. It seemed like the right thing to do, somehow. Suddenly the green disappeared and everything became red. She was Shepard. She hadn't chosen blue. She had chosen red. The red beam of extermination. It coursed through the air like her blood coursed through her veins. Then, it disappeared into the night sky, taking the Catalyst with it. She hung suspended in the air, a heavy weight crushing her chest and the left side of her body.

And then she fell.

Gravity pulled her down, pulling and pulling, accelerating her fall and making her head spin. She tried to suck in the air around her but it was growing heavier. She had to hold on to herself, she couldn't die like this. Not again. Not without…

Liara.

The thought hit her just as she hit the ground. Her body pulled her back in but this time she stayed awake. She thought she remembered what Liara looked like. She tried to focus on reconstructing Liara's image in her mind so she wouldn't pass out. Her breathing subsided, though it still wasn't easy. Every breath of air was accompanied by a rasping pain. Something was still burning.

She moved her free hand to her face again and felt her lips. They were covered by a dust that felt cool against her fingertips. She brushed the dust off her lips and held her hand under her nose. She recognized the scent immediately.

Ashes.

Her eyes shot open but she still couldn't see. A murky darkness shrouded her vision, letting in only a very small flicker of light. The light itself was weak, but she hung onto it as her only beacon. She knew she had to move. Her ears picked up the crackling of flames nearby. She tried to move her legs and found that they were immobilised. Feeling for her legs with her free hand, she found the rubble of stones covering her lower body. She lifted one stone and then realized it would be easier if she could dig with both her hands. But her left hand wouldn't move for some reason. She figured it was probably covered in rubble as well.

Gliding her right hand over her chest and onto her left shoulder, she searched for the first sign of whatever was paralyzing her left side. Her eyes could still only pick up the faintest light and so she couldn't see what it was. She slid her hand further down her shoulder. It touched mud.

There was nothing there.

She panicked. Her breath wheezed as her right hand desperately searched for her left. It met only sand, metal wires, and more stone. A sticky wetness covered her shoulder and the greater part of her left side. She pulled her hand back and thought she could see something red, but she couldn't be sure. Her mind caught up to her senses and realized her left arm was gone. She told herself to steady her breathing, be calm. The breathing exercises she had mastered long ago kicked in and slowed her heart rate. The crackling of flames and a slowly nearing heat reminded her that she still had to get out of here.

Now sobbing, she freed her legs from the rubble and attempted to move them. They did.

Thank the Goddess.

Her soft whimpers turned into tears freely flowing from unseeing eyes. Her mouth produced a croaky howl. As she struggled to stand up, a wave of nausea hit her and she doubled over. She emptied her stomach and tasted iron. She didn't know if she was bleeding from her mouth or whether the blood had already been there. She couldn't care now. She had to move. Had to survive.

Scrambling from object to object she removed herself from…she didn't know where. She could only move in the direction her instinct told her to take. Or was it even instinct? Survival was instinctual, but this, this was something else. It was a bond.

She was Sara Shepard.

"Liara, where are you?"

A/N: I don't really know what this is yet (one-shot or not?). All I can say is that the piece sort of wrote itself and I finally decided to upload it. Thanks for reading :)