Author's Note:

My wife and I co-played through the Mass Effect trilogy twice over the last few months. The ending gave us both what my wife has described as PTDD or Post Traumatic Death Disorder. We spent weeks with Shepard and the team, lost touch with reality (as you do) and, well, we were messed up by the ending. Even though we knew in broad strokes what was coming. Knowing just made everything that much more bittersweet.

I'm not dissing the ending; in fact I think Bioware did a brilliant job. Intense and heartrending does not necessarily equal bad.

On the first playthrough, we chose the Synthesis ending. Weird and full of holes, but interesting. I found myself wondering what would happen next in that world? So, here we go.

In this ME universe, we lost a lot of people on the way. Ashley on Virmire, Kasumi in the Collector base. Mordin on Tuchanka, Zaeed and Thane on the Citadel. Tali (which shocked us) on Rannoch. The Geth have mostly wiped out the Quarians; both the Geth and EDI of course survived the flare.

In addition, this story assumes that Kaiden died in London, and that Javik is missing. Garrus and Liara were with Shepard on the last run. We'll meet most of the others as we go along, I think.

Naomi Shepard was with Liara throughout, except for a brief romance with Garrus in ME2. She was hurt and confused and he was there for her as always. My god, I love that Turian. He was classy and gracious about it when the unstoppable force between Shepard and Liara kicked back in.

The Crucible flare, I've decided, trashed the Charon Relay, forcing FTL flight to and from Arcturus. From what I can gather, that's about 3 days in FTL. Not that I care all that much. Other relays were damaged, but many remain operational. The comm buoy system was knocked out for a few weeks, but brought back fairly quickly.

All Reapers went inactive in the flare; the thought of a helpful friendly reaper doesn't work for me. Their creatures, however, well, you'll see.

I'm a newb to this, newb to writing at all, so suckage will happen.

Warning:

There's a LOT of angst here. And, at the rate the story is going (I've written a fair bit more than this first chapter), it will take a long time to resolve. But I love them all, and I want to see a happy ending for them. "They lived happily ever after, to the end of their days." works for me.

Alison


Chapter 1

.Liara.

Her whole body startled, wide awake. Her heart was pounding. She had been sure that she WAS awake, halfheartedly trying to coax herself out of the bed, but she must have drifted back off. Emotions cascaded and collided and the tears, never far away, came, hard. From an infinite wellspring. Exhausting.

That voice, not a voice. Again. Haunting her dreams.

"Doctor T'Soni."

Fighting the tears down, pushing them back. Ambivalently though – this voice was part of the grey, of the grey world. Only her dreams and memories had color any more.

"Yes, Glyph?"

"You requested notification of our arrival at the fleet. We will be docking with the Everest in two hours. Arrangements are underway for our transfer to the Destiny Ascension within several days."

"Thank you."

Sitting up, her head swam. This was ridiculous. Ridiculously difficult. Part of her, a detached part, couldn't help but be bemused. The Asari had always been prone to losing mates. It was a given. The philosophy of acceptance. Hollow, so far from having any power to ease.

Ease. She rejected the thought. Surcease would be wrong. Grief was what she was, what she had. It was the only thing with color. Crimson pain in the grey fog. She would not give it up. She would not betray, the way she was betrayed. She would not leave. She would stay for a thousand years.

A thousand years of grey. So be it.

Mechanically, she prepared for the day. Ship-day, at any rate – she had become so accustomed to tracking cycles by the rhythm of ships, usually by the number of crew running about. On the human-crewed Normandy, they always seem to be running, in a rush, a short-lived race, perhaps the running reflected their knowledge of their limited time.

A vivid flash of memory, her human, running fast, so fast, beauty in motion, toward the danger, toward the largest thing to save. Toward the biggest possible sacrifice. Running the wrong way.

Damn you, Shepard.

The tears in the shower were, at least, less inconvenient.

xxxxx

Almost a month of frantic jury-rigging. Without EDI, Daniels, and a badly hurt Adams there would have been no way. Among the many lost, Engineer Donnelly, thrown headfirst into a bulkhead, holding, shielding Daniels with his body when the inertial dampers failed on impact. Broken bones, internal injuries – few had escaped unscathed. Normandy herself was heavily damaged, although EDI confirmed that essential ship integrity was uncompromised. She hadn't broken her back or sheared her wings. In itself, a miracle. Two weeks to re-establish comms and another three days before any contact. It was almost a minute before Joker could make himself heard over the cheering on both ships.

Liara's frantic questions had been answered. The news was unequivocal. There had been no survivors found on the charred wreck of the Presidium. Casualties on the Wards had been catastrophic. Remains identified as those of Anderson and The Illusive Man had been recovered, but of Shepard herself, there had been no sign. Nothing. Nothing at all. The war that had wounded her so many times and killed her once had, in the end, erased her completely.

xxxxx

"Admiral. It is kind of you to see me."

"Doctor T'Soni. I apologize that I haven't been able to meet with you one-on-one sooner. My time has not been my own." Hackett's handshake was practiced, firm. Comforting. An entirely human custom, one to which Liara had grown attached. Also comforting, because, in her memories, Hackett was steeped in Shepard. He was of her world, of her time. A link.

One day, you will have to move on.

But not yet.

"Please do not apologize, Admiral. The galaxy in which we find ourselves is somewhat… changed. There is much to do, and too few of us left to do it."

Hackett's smile was complex. "Indeed. Changed is a mild way to put it. Please, will you sit down? May I offer you a drink?"

"Thank you."

xxxxx

Hackett sipped his tea. The subject of Doctor Liara T'Soni was a complicated one. Her continuing half-acknowledged role as Shadow Broker aside, she was also the closest remaining link to Shepard, to the symbol Shepard had become. Two months after London, "The Shepard" was already common parlance. The Savior. The cults, the religions, were already forming. Doctor T'Soni's names were more varied, ranging from Savior Consort to many far less flattering. "Traitorous squid-bitch slut" was nowhere near the worst.

"Are you comfortable aboard Ascension? Your needs are being met?"

"Yes Admiral. Everyone from Matriach Lidanya on down has been nothing but kind and accommodating. They make far too much of me, to be honest. It is like… returning to one's home town after a long trip. Everyone wishes to know everything." She smiled slightly, "I have not yet been asked for autographs, but I believe it is only a matter of time."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that curiosity is your biggest problem. The Matriarch and I agree, and I hope you do as well, that keeping you with the fleet for the moment is the best option. There is simply too much volatility on the planets – any of the planets – for you to be safe. I won't sugar-coat it, Doctor. For every sentient out there who idolizes or, hell, reveres you, there's one who wants you dead. It's insane, but there it is."

"I know, Admiral. I have heard the negative spins. How I and the others on the team abandoned Shepard at the end and left her to die alone. How, if we had been brave enough to go with her, she would have lived to guide the galaxy into a new golden age. We-I, especially, am the ultimate traitor. In your Christian mythos, I am Judas."

Liara's eyes flashed as she met Hackett's sympathetic gaze. "The worst part, of course, is that it is true. I left her, and she died. That is fact."

Hackett continued to watch her for a moment. Then, surprisingly gentle, "I don't think most people really grasp the significance of Shepard's sacrifice. She died, Liara, saving the galaxy. She saved it. I doubt this is very comforting to you, but it was a good death. It was probably the best death in history, if you look at what she accomplished."

He continued, holding her eyes, "Mythology aside, she was just a person, a fallible human. A centimeter up, down, left or right, one more hit, and any number of times instead of being wounded, she would have died. I know how many times you being there with her made the difference, kept her alive. We're all incredibly fragile. I saw the reports. A centimeter left and the wound that took you out of that final run would have finished you. It wasn't just a scratch, Liara. No one had a choice after that. That is your fact."

Liara broke their gaze first, looked at the floor.

Silence fell between them for a moment, oddly comfortable. Then, "All that said, I do understand how things must be for you, and I am truly sorry."

Collecting herself, Liara replied, "Thank you Admiral. It is still… very… difficult. It will get better, in time. Right now, it feels in a way like it is the galaxy rather than the Reapers that has taken her away from me."

"I understand."

Liara closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, there was an unpleasant colorless emptiness to them, "Not just in the usual sense though. I mean in an almost literal sense. My… sources, have already provided a number of reports on the almost galaxy-wide rise of the Shepard cults. I have been focusing on this since we reestablished communications on Pragia."

Hackett sat up straighter. "We've heard about them as well, but we don't know enough. Anything you have to share, I'm all ears."

"One commonality to the cults, apparently, is the doctrine that Shepard now literally resides in all beings. I find the concept of sharing my… late… bondmate with the entire galaxy distasteful. Actually, it makes me angry. But that is, well… Tides are, Admiral. What is important is that the cults seem to share disturbingly similar characteristics, many of them extreme. I do not find the extremism itself surprising – the galaxy has just endured a terrible trauma, and powerful expressions of societal dysfunction are to be expected. What bothers me is how similar the reports are: cult groups that are not possibly in contact sharing almost identical points of doctrine, identical proselytization and induction techniques. It almost feels like they are centrally controlled, with the cults operating as cells. Independent, not necessarily aware of one another, but working toward a common goal. This is a radical departure from-"

Liara paused and shook her head, "I apologize, Admiral. I sometimes let my didacticism get the better of me. I brought it up because… well. It is just that I have a very bad feeling about these cults. Structurally, they remind me of Cerberus. It may even be possible that a remnant of Cerberus is leveraging Shepard's legend for their own ends."

Hackett nodded, "If what you say is true, Cerberus or not, it opens a door allowing easy and efficient co-ordination of the groups, not to mention their rapid growth and consolidation. I see."

"Exactly. Separate cult groups, especially extremists, would normally find each other anathema and infighting over points of doctrine would prevent or slow their combining. I do not think that is going to happen in this case. They are almost… interchangeable, regardless of system, planet or species. It is an army in the making, Admiral. One that seems to have very fixed and extreme beliefs. None of the cults, as yet, has set itself against a local governing body, but that may simply be because they are not yet ready."

Hackett sat back, rubbing a weary hand across his face. "Jesus, Doctor. Right now, with resources stretched so thin trying to rebuild core galactic infrastructure, I worry that we will not learn enough fast enough. It would be ironic to survive the Reapers only to have galactic society self-destruct through some holy war, or to have Cerberus win in the end."

Leaning forward, softly, "We would be grateful if you would continue your investigation and provide us with whatever you can. At the risk of being blunt, I know that you have considerable… resources. We need your help on this, Doctor."

Liara nodded, "I was going to continue my work on this regardless, Admiral. I will pass on whatever I find that appears relevant."

"Thank you."

Hackett paused, suddenly unsure how to proceed. "On a personal note, we've gathered Commander Shepard's personal effects from the Normandy. I know that there was an understanding while the ship was repairing on Pragia that her cabin remain untouched. However, with the Normandy's refit underway, we've had to make way for the new CO."

"The commander had a will on file with Fleet Ops. It indicates that she desired you to have all of her possessions. If you wish, of course."

Without warning, the grey, a constant roil in the background, flooded back, drowning her, a vortex of emptiness, flashing to searing red agony. Suddenly, she was going to be sick.

Not again. Oh Goddess, not again.

Hackett found himself staring at the Asari. She was looking back at him, expression calm enough. But there had been, briefly, something. Something intense and awful. A burning pain straight through his mind. A screeching discord of color and sound, with no sound at all.

"Of course, Admiral, thank you."

Somewhat shakily, Hackett stood, signaling that the interview was over.

"Once again, Doctor, I want to say how sorry I am, for your loss."

And I think I just had a glimpse of it.

xxxxx

The container that they delivered to her cabin on Ascension was so small. Shepard had never owned much. The miniscule detritus of a giant life. It was unfair that so little remained, that she took so much with her.

The Normandy's hangar ramp is closing, why is it closing? Liara is in agony, dizzy with pain, pulling weakly on Garrus, she needs to follow, follow Shepard, stand between her and the death she senses approaching. Take Shepard's death away, make it her own this time. She will not be left behind, never again. Her body will not obey. Garrus is too strong, she is too weak. In a minute, just a minute she can get up. Go with Shepard. That is the plan. But the ramp is closing and Shepard is not waiting. No. This is not right. Straining toward the shrinking opening, through which she can see Shepard running, getting too far away, Shepard, WAIT FOR ME.

When Liara's hand touched the framed dogtags, the dogtags that she was never supposed to own again, the hangar slammed shut. The flood of grey, flare of rage and red agony from within was immediate and total.

Discontinuity.

Red, crimson, roaring. No sight. There was someone screaming, pleading, cursing. Incoherent sounds, waves and waves of hot sick pain. Dim crashing, shattering sounds. Then surging grey, void, choking, suffocating.

.Liara.

Swirling green in the grey. She knew that color. She knew that sound. She knew that… motion? So beautiful… and terrifying.

.Breathe. Fainter, further away.

Liara opened her eyes.

That voice. It was… sound, but not sound, the vivid color of Shepard's eyes but no color at all. It was Shepard in motion, unmistakably the way she always moved. It was away but toward, but it was… confused, random. Dizzying.

She was lying on her back in the middle of her cabin, Shepard's tags in her clenched hand, no sign of the frame. The rest of the room was chaos. Everything except her in the room was shattered against the blackened, bent bulkheads. The cabin door, dangling, sheared almost in half. Alarms, there were alarms sounding. So loud, drilling through her mind.

Liara was able to roll over just before she was violently sick. Her body was not obeying. Just like the last time.

"Doctor T'Soni. You have been attacked. You are injured. Help will arrive in approximately thirty seconds."

"Glyph. No. No, It is… alright." A lie, but Goddess, the presence of others, not yet not yet. Dizzy.

"Please, just… let me be. I will call for help shortly. Can you please…"

Too late. Suddenly, there were presences, Asari crew all around her. Crashing waves of sound-not-sound. She was sick again. She felt herself lifted onto a soft surface, then merciful darkness.

xxxxx

In the darkness, a sudden quiet symphony, colors and sounds,

.Liara.

Patterns modulating. Sense of encompassing, holding… Stronger, vivid. Not language, not words. But meaningful. Comforting. Yet with something unnerving…

This is a dream.

Gentle enfolding darkness and silence swallow the thought.

But it is a sweet dream.

.No. Sudden, painful dissonant swirling harmonics, lights in the darkness. Gone.

Silence, for a long while.

A whisper .Listen. Infinite layers of resonance, web of color, sound, meaning. Tied to her. Utterly comprehensible, utterly unknowable. Too much…

Listen? I don't understand. Now…

.Love. An emerald-sapphire carillon, blinding, gorgeous.

Oh.

Goddess…

Fading, a caress, gone.

Liara awoke slowly, to the sterile white of a hospital room. Empty, impersonal. The white, so clean, but grey, without life.

"Liara. Wing, honey. Can you hear me?" A new voice, a known voice, gravelly, oddly resonant. Not grey. Brown.

"Aethyta?"

"Fucking Goddess. You had me scared." Her voice, rasping with so many emotions. But not just the voice, something else as well. Liara turned her head. As her eyes focused, she could see Aethyta, but, she could also… hear… her. Aethyta was looking at her with a worried scowl, saying nothing, yet Liara could distinctly still hear a… melody? Loudest when she looked straight at her. And colors, she was seeing colors, hearing colors? As she gazed at Aethyta's face, dancing overlays of color and sound seemed to flicker in and out of existence around her, a strange nimbus of activity. All gone when she focused on it too hard, but right in front of her when she didn't try to see or hear. Liara had the vertiginous feeling of staring down several entirely new dimensions.

She threw up.

xxxxx

Later, "Aethyta, what happened?"

"No idea kiddo. We were hoping you would tell us. Security crew responded to "a structural compromise event" in your cabin. The assumption was a bomb detonation. A giant big fucking bomb. Whole ship went to priority one alert. Then they find you in the middle of a nuked cabin, incoherent and barfing – thanks for that, by the way - but untouched. Then a navigator realizes that one of the alerts is the inertials system reporting that the entire fucking ship is suddenly half a kilometer out of position."

"So the question on everyone's mind is - What the HELL? No one has a workable explanation of any kind. According to the cabin damage, you should have been really… killed. Not to mention that no one can explain the instantaneous shift of a floating city five hundred meters without even tipping over the fucking drinks. So yeah, 'what happened?' is a really popular question. And since you were sort of involved, lots of people thinking maybe caused it, you're going to have some explaining to do."

"Honestly, father, I do not know what happened. The last thing I recall is… I picked up Shepard's… tags. Oh. Where are they? Where are they? Please, where are they?" Liara struggled to sit up, greys and crimsons rising, a new sound, a discordant terrified booming vermilion, like a Reaper beam, slicing toward her…

Discontinuity.

"Liara. C'mon baby, come back. Come back. Just breathe, baby." Aethyta had her arms around her and was holding her, rocking her. She sounded of oranges and rough browns, of worry, of unsureness, of self-disgust, of… love. Love. That beautiful, exquisite symphony of color, notes, movement. It was Love, the unmistakable multidimensional… word from her dream, but it was Aethyta-Love flavored, entirely recognizable and properly… fit to Aethyta. And, somehow, Liara knew, that particular word was for her and no one else. The word Love suddenly felt very imperfect; a one-dimensional abstraction of what felt like twenty dimensions of existence all in one… thing.

"Shepard's tags are around your neck," said Aethyta, continuing to hold her. "You were delirious and wouldn't let anyone take them from your damn hand, so they put them on you. You only let go of them a little while ago."

Liara reached for the tags. Their twisted, burned solidity felt… wonderful. They felt… green. Suddenly from nowhere a wave of symphony, colors, sounds, motion-in-space-and-time… taste?… It was happiness. Joy. So strong. Liara laughed out loud, giddy, spinning without motion within the wonderful vortex.

Aethyta sat back, obviously startled by the laugh. Smiling over at her, Liara could… see and hear the scratchy coruscating confusion that overlaid her physical presence. It was a gentle confusion though, shot through with more bemusement than anger. It was so clear, so easy to perceive. Liara laughed again, and lay back, suddenly very tired.

"Aethyta? Was anyone hurt?"

"What? You're still worrying the fuck out of me, Wing, just so you know. No, no casualties, bless Athame's knockers. No explosive or biotic residue either and every test on you has come back normal since you were admitted, so Goddess knows what's going on. Maybe you've just cracked and gone super-powered blue-ass insane with grief over your human. Nine hundred years is a long time for loony," Aethyta grumbled.

"I am sorry, Aethyta. I am very sorry. I have not been feeling... well. For a while."

"Yeah, no kidding."

After a pause, a long sigh. "Actually, Wing, I understand, maybe, a bit. " Another pause, obviously embarrassed. "About the grief thing. It sucks worse than sex with a Hanar. Now shut up and get some real sleep so I can too. I've been sitting here for ages."

Liara smiled and closed her eyes. In her hand, she could… feel the tags humming quietly, happily in some dimension, soothing her to sleep. As she drifted off, a truth, a knowing,

That eruption of joy was not mine.