"Man down! I repeat, we have a man down!"
The shuttle staggered in the air as the pilot wrestled the throttle down and edged it toward the platform. The air was somewhat more turbulent than normal. The lookout barked into his radio.
"Correction Command – three men down!"
It hovered just beside the platform and a squad of medics flanked by a pair of Avenger-X wielding spec-ops marines swarmed the platform.
"Identification in process. Medics are checking for lifesigns."
The air still crackles with energy. The shifting gases of the Citadel's atmosphere are crackling with static from the sheer brute quantity of power discharged. The less armoured medics jump and jolt occasionally as electricity shocks them lightly. They operate their omni-tools and search for lifesigns dutifully, ignoring the occasional shock.
"Admiral Anderson confirmed KIA, Command."
A vague groaning sound. A few husks stagger toward the platform, what little flesh they had peeling away as they moved; the two of the three that didn't simply fall over was crawling.
"Put'm down!"
The medics work diligently regardless of the gunfire that tears the feeble husks apart. They grimace at the body's grotesque array of cybernetics that appear to have replaced boundless quantities of his flesh. The gunshot wound betrays the obvious truth.
"Ident profile matches the Illusive Man. KIA."
There would be time to worry about why he was on the Citadel or how he got there later. Now the four medics converged on the last body; his chest was heaving with bullet holes drizzling blood from his shoulder. Entire fragments of armour were burnt into his skin and others were falling apart with damage. His skin was cleared of colour and some cybernetics were visible, crackling with unexplained malfunctions. They scan him; but they know who it is as soon as the blood-streaked face comes into view.
"Commander Shepard located! He's alive, I repeat, he is alive! Get him to the shuttle!"
Liara stared at her shaking, blood-streaked hands. The shuttle rocked and occasionally buffeted to one side from some air current or stray gunshot. Her stare was infallible. Voices tried to get her attention but she could only think about one person, one thing. They all knew the stakes but it offered little comfort. She closed her eyes and tightened her fists, trying to do what he'd always told her to do. Remember who she cares for, and to know it was worth it. Something worth trying for. Something worth dying for. But no; it was insurmountable hope that gripped her mind. He was Commander Shepard. If anyone could survive this, if she could survive this, he could as well.
Concern for Garrus was present. She gazed at him warily as the medics shocked him and drowned his wounds in medi-gel; it possessed her so much less but a tear slid down her cheek. The questions came back. Was it worth dying for? Was it worth losing someone so close to her? She gritted her teeth; she knew he'd reprimand her for it. Don't be daft, he'd say, destroying all advanced civilisation includes your loved ones you know. Of course it was worth it. She changed her view and stared at the roof of the shuttle. She barely noticed as they landed, and turned her head slightly to watch as they carried Garrus on board.
"Are you joining us, Doctor T'Soni?"
She looked toward Garrus, straight past the medic who'd addressed her. She thought she saw his chest rise and it inspired enough hope in her. She shook her head.
"No. But keep him safe."
The medic nods with at thumbs up.
"Yes ma'am. All right, move 'em out!"
The shuttle pilot looked around the corner of the chair, silent but clearly expecting instruction. The asari barely hesitated.
"The Normandy."
... He's stable... Needs a hospital... Signs of impromptu implant rejection... Medi-gel is helping but not enough...
Voices. None of them familiar.
... Bring them in from a hospital ship; it'll be faster than transferring him...
That voice was familiar. He tried to place a name but agony seized him.
Waking up... Doctor, we need to sedate...
He groaned. He may well have wanted to sit up, to arc his back or even to twitch but there was no response. Nothing worked and everything hurt; his muscles felt debilitated as if atrophied from years of disuse. His thoughts were cloudy and unclear. His memory – even of so familiar a voice – was foggy. He managed to remember just before the sedative put him out of it again. Chakwas.
... Coming around again... Sedate?
... No. He shouldn't be in pain. Should see if he can talk...
... Are you sure? We haven't gotten the extra equipment...
... Fine, but if Liara gets here...
Liara. The name evoked a torrent of brain activity that visibly didn't go unnoticed by his attending doctors as they scrambled for their sedatives. His eyes sprung open and promptly slammed shut from even the dimmed medical bay lighting. The longest of groans erupts from his croaking, sore throat. Everything felt numb; no feeling in anything. Even the headache was gone. He must have been on cloud nine for all of the painkillers inevitably blunting every facet of his nervous system. But he still smiled. His memory stuttered back bit by bit. Liara. She was alive! Then the sedative.
... He's alive!...
... Can't be sure he'll stay...
... Know you can hear me, Shepard... Hold on... Hold on for me...
Her voice carried the feeling of some unearthly swansong. A murmur so far away yet so close he could feel the breath on his face. He felt vaguely aware of her hand in his; the grip was tight as a vice and the anaesthetic had dulled just enough for it to register. Enough for the pain to come back, like something was eating away at his insides. Unconsciousness was quick to return.
... Was successful. Halted the rejection...
... He'll live?..
Yes.
It was sounding less like a dream by 'Yes'. Less like his mind was conjuring words instead of processing what his ears were picking up. More like reality was replacing the constant sedation. More like Liara's hand in his wasn't just a self-comforting illusion to keep him in the game. She was there. But there was only so long he could stay aware and awake. Still swimming in tranquilisers and painkillers.
Liara. You haven't eaten all day.
Not leaving his side.
I'll get something for you.
Thank you.
His eyes open once more. The lights are practically out so they stay open. He feels the dampness of tears and the softness of skin in his palm. He could finally turn his head and look upon her. She's clearly exhausted and hasn't let go of his hand. He tries to speak but there's nothing. He manages one gesture before going out of it again. His fingers curl and grip the limp, tired hand in his palm. One thought, strong and true; he wished he could share it as his eyes closed. I'm here, Liara.
"It's been three days. I think we can wake him."
The voice was clear as day. He needed no waking and his memory was working well enough to tell him his trusty doctor was there. He coughed and hacked, fingers grasping Liara's hand tight as he finally open his eyes properly. They stayed open and he perceived the blurred, greyed shapes that surrounded him (and the straight-edged lines of extensive medical machinery). He parted his lips and dragged air through his vocal cords.
"I need a vacation." He grunted in tones laced with dull but potent pain, shifting to test his muscles.
Liara started at his voice. It became apparent she had taken to sitting upon his bed; he'd been sitting up with his back on her chest. She'd held him close with one arm, protectively and diligently. Her cerulean skin brushed against his cheek in the corner of his vision and he smiled, turning his head slowly to get a look at her. Her eyes glistened with tears and were marred with the obvious signs of someone who hadn't slept enough for three days.
He looked away from the blue face and only now realised there was a veritable ocean of faces staring at him. Each one was familiar and each one beaming with relief. One of them, a slightly aged face with grey hair smiled faintly. Ah, Doctor Chakwas. Always there. Infallible.
"You've a long recovery to go yet, but I think we should leave you for a bit."
Mutual understanding swept through the assembled crew that now departed the medical bay in a respectful silence. There was a lot to explain. What happened, how did it work? What needed cleaning up? Was there any fighting left to do? The casualty count? Did all of his crew make it? But it would wait a few minutes.
"I was so worried."
He sat with his back propped against the back of the bed, now. She knelt on both knees on the bed with her arms around his shoulders. His arms rested more limply around her, but still mustered the strength to pull her close and into a hug. A hand lifted to stroke her head lovingly, and the pain which his muscles gave out seemed redundant and unimportant.
"Pfah. I died once. Wasn't about to do it again now was I?"
He smiled and chuckled hoarsely, her giving him the same look of amazement he'd grown accustomed to seeing. Despite falling in and out of consciousness for three days, dipping into periods of uncertainty and drifting dangerously close to death and he still managed to find something somewhat lacking in seriousness.
"Shepard, I... I really thought..."
His hand caressed her head-tentacles again, weak fingers sliding along their length carefully and gently. Another smile spread on his expression as he kissed the tip of her nose.
"I know, Liara. I'm alive. And you know what that means, right?"
She gave him a quizzical look that reminded him fleetingly of the socially inept scientist she was when he met her first. It was adorable and never stopped being adorable. He held her head in both hands now as he continued.
"We retire from saving the galaxy, go somewhere sunny."
He paused to watch her smile grow before concluding.
"Have lots of little blue children."
She sank into another of her adorable features, blushing with ferocious embarrassment and diverting her gaze. A raised voice tried to make out a reprimand but came out as a slightly whined protest laced with utterly insincere anger and traces of laughter.
"Shepard!"
Even with a throbbing throat and a headache to rival a sky-car crash victim he still laughed raucously. It was as if nothing else had happened, and certainly as if nothing else mattered. In a moment they fell into something of a solemn silence. He lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. Words gave way to the ever-more meaningful realm of action and movement. The slight contortions of pain marred his features and more-still of his face was still covered by medical patches, bandages or plasters.
Both hands took hold of her cheeks and her fingers grasped at his wrists. It was sinking in; they'd both survived against all odds. Through the fire and the flames they'd come out standing. Together. They seized each other by the shoulders, tilted their heads and pressed their lips together. Eyes slid shut to savour the moment of passion. Nothing needed to be said, but they did anyway on the undertones of their breath.
"I love you."
To Be Continued