A/N: Really sorry this chapter took so long to post. Life has been getting in the way. Story still en route to being finished. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.
Commander Shepard lay in the darkness of his hospital room, sheets drawn up over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. Hackett's visit, not two hours earlier, had been very much welcome – he was one of the men Shepard had always considered a role model, an example of how he might best comport himself – but it had brought only more strife to his already troubled mind.
The Alliance wants to promote you to the rank of Admiral
Shepard tossed restlessly in his bed, on to his side, so that he was facing Tali. She was sitting in her chair, head hanging over her chest, which rose and fell steadily as she slept.
Very few men have managed that juggling act successfully
Another agitated repositioning found Shepard once again on his back, eyes fixed above.
After Hackett's departure, Tali had wasted little time in rejoining him, and for once, for the first time since he had regained consciousness, Shepard had found that a part of him was dismayed by her presence. It was not, he knew, any change in his love for her which caused it; but the mere fact of her being there served to multiply the stress of his decision exponentially. Every straying of his mind, into the viewpoint that becoming an admiral might be the right choice, made him feel as though a knife was twisting into his chest, made him feel like a traitor. He had not even been able to bring himself to tell her about the promotion offer, skirting the subject entirely.
Shepard's eyes snapped open, and he realized that he had been falling asleep. Weariness consumed him, left a great weight on his eyelids, but his racing thoughts continued undiminished.
He had promised her, only the night before, that he would not let anything come between them again. Would not accepting the Alliance's promotion be an outright breaking of that vow? Hackett had not diced words – he had made it explicitly clear that admiralty was a full-time commitment. He could not pour all of his soul, all of his attention, all of his passion, into both the love of his life and public service. It was one or the other.
Shepard held his hand up and stared at its vague outline, obscured by the darkness. It felt like he had been serving the Alliance for his entire life. Things had come before it, people and events and memories, but it was his military service that defined him. He had been honed from an average, unremarkable person into a disciplined warrior, into someone capable of making the kind of difference which he had always craved making. He felt that he owed a great debt to the Alliance for that much, regardless of how they had virtually disowned him after being resurrected by Cerberus.
The accursed voice in his head, the one whose cruel fangs gnawed into him in solitude and in the dark watches of the night, derided him for that gratitude. What did he have to thank them for? His accomplishments were his own. Had he not joined the Alliance, he would have found success in some other field, would have tapped his inner potential in other ways. His life might have taken a less painful course. He might not have been doomed to watch friends and comrades die in countless battlegrounds, might not have had to shoulder the burden of fighting for the entire galaxy even when they had forsaken him, might not have had to endure the blood of billions staining his hands – if anything, the Alliance owed him a debt –
Shepard breathed in deeply, and then exhaled. His hand dropped to the mattress noiselessly. The selfishness of such thoughts unnerved him, and the ever-increasing prevalence of those dark whisperings in his mind chilled him outright. The fact that his remorse was manifesting itself into an untargeted bitterness was alarming – how long until he lashed out, at his friends or at Tali? He almost yearned to be back in the thick of the Reaper war again, when his purpose was clear and his conscience relatively clear.
His heart told him, now, that becoming an admiral would be wrong. It was not his commitment to service, to the Alliance, which had motivated him to rise from the wreckage of London and hold on to life; it had been her, the woman sitting next to his bed, and the thought of spending the rest of that life with her. This realization brought with it a sense of epiphany and crystalline understanding, as though he'd spent decades puzzling over a complex riddle only to find that the key to its mysteries had been hiding in plain sight the entire time.
But doubt was quick to seep in and taint that understanding, threatening to drag it down into dark depths and drown it forever. Did Tali deserve to spend a lifetime with a man consumed by guilt and bitterness? Did she deserve to spend all of her years loving him and trying to heal him only to receive nothing in return? No – she deserved, and needed, much more than that. A woman as remarkable as she was deserved someone who appreciated her, and could reciprocate every bit of the plentiful love and spirit she had to offer – and while he wanted nothing more than to be that someone, if he could not, then was he really selfish enough to stand in the way of her happiness?
The world became blurry as Shepard's eyes crept inexorably shut. Perhaps spending the rest of his living years as an admiral would be best. Perhaps it would keep him busy enough that his inner demons might be kept at bay, would minimalize his chances of lashing out and hurting someone. No personal life meant no loved ones with hearts to break. Tali would be able to find a man who could give her what she needed, someone whose light could brighten her darkest days.
Shepard succumbed to a troubled sleep.
He stood on the cliffs of Rannoch, bathed blood-red by the planet's setting sun, toward which dark multilayered clouds crawled. Before him lay the smoldering ruin of the Reaper which had controlled the geth heretics, directing them against the quarian fleet, poised to manipulate their considerable might against the organic civilizations which were its prey.
Murderer.
Panic. Shepard's eyes widened, and he swiveled around, for although the voice was the Reaper's, booming and mechanical, it had come not from the ancient corpse, but from behind him. He inhaled sharply at the sight of its source.
"You," he hissed.
The ethereal, glowing blue form of the Catalyst walked to him in a way that seemed disjointed from reality, so that it appeared more to be gliding on the air.
Murderer. That is what you called us.
The intelligence stopped next to Shepard, looking out over Rannoch.
Perhaps now you
Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness
better understand.
Shepard squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, unable to believe what his sight told him, for now Thane, the late drell whom had served on the Normandy during the Collector crisis and became his dear friend, stood in the Catalyst's place. Blood dripped from a wound on his lower torso.
"Nothing has changed," Shepard spat defiantly. "Nothing could ever change what you've done. You still wiped out countless civilizations, committed genocide over and over again – "
Everything has changed.
Shepard stumbled back a step, reflexively holding up a protective arm at the deafening volume of the interruption. The other entity turned toward him, the one he had thought was Thane, but that could not have been right, for it was the Illusive Man whose blue eyes drilled into his.
Billions of geth runtimes were in operation at the moment of decision, and yet, knowing full well it would destroy them, you activated
I tried, Shepard
the Crucible.
Mordin Solus turned back to the Reaper corpse, to the setting sun, holding his thin arms wide.
You exterminated many so that others could live. This is no different from the mandate
Someone else might have gotten it wrong
the Reapers sought to fulfill.
"No," Shepard said, but his voice was weak and quavering, and he felt the hollowness of the retort as surely as the other heard it, as surely as his eyes betrayed it. "It's not the same. It's not the same at all. Your logic was twisted. It was evil. How can you possibly say that destroying organic life every time it reaches a certain point preserves life?"
David Anderson sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the long drop to the valley below, looking wearied in his dirtied combat uniform.
Listen to yourself. Hear the folly of your words. Do you imagine the geth you murdered would have been any more understanding of your reasoning in their sacrifice than you are
Feels like years since I just sat down
of ours?
Shepard was dimly aware that he'd fallen to his knees. He shook his head feebly and buried his head in his palms. "No," he said again, but this time it was even weaker, even more lacking in conviction. "We're not the same. I…had to destroy them…or you would have destroyed us…" He lifted his head and glared at the other with glistening eyes. "Legion opposed you. He wanted you defeated. He would have underst – "
Legion stood on the edge of the cliff, facing away from him, for now Shepard was yards behind him, far from the position he'd been kneeling on seconds before.
Your fellows applaud you as a hero, but you are no more a hero than
Shepard-Commander
the Reapers before you.
"Legion," Shepard croaked, rising shakily, and staggered forward, hand reaching out, but the distance between them grew no shorter, seemed, in fact, to grow greater, and now panic and despair filled him. "I didn't want to do it, Legion – if there had been any other way – please, forgive me – "
The geth turned slowly toward him, its eyepiece looking to him, and then he burst into fierce red flame, a flame so bright that Shepard stopped in his tracks and shielded his eyes, screaming out, and the gnawing whispers of doubt and guilt and bitterness rose into a deafening discordance, and he knew, with a heavy certitude, that forgiveness would never be his.
Tali's dreams, too, were troubled, a maelstrom of vague and unspecific discomfiture which, while less severe than her nightmares resulting from Shepard's presumed death, were no less unwelcome. That she was haunted in her sleep even in this safe haven, with the man she loved and trusted most nearby, was testimony to her fresh uncertainties.
From the moment the newsfeed had announced Shepard was alive, a clear path forward had embedded itself in Tali's mind, one that appeared almost naive to her now. She would be reunited with him, and they would give each other comfort and peace, and they would spend the rest of their lives bathed in the golden light of Rannoch, the homeworld she and the rest of her people had dreamed of reclaiming for centuries; theirs would be a life of flawless perfection, with food aplenty, good friends, and in this vision she even, irrationally, envisioned a child, one with its father's bravery and perhaps its mother's awkwardness, though she knew full well that such a fortune was denied to her.
Admiral Hackett's visit that day had served to jar her out of that waking dream. She, like her boyfriend, had been pleased to see him - even honored, that such an important figure would see fit to stop by - but in the admiral's eyes, and in the tone of his voice, she had detected something which sent her stomach churning and tweaked no small amount of suspicion: business. Hackett was a man with impressive self-control, but even with his natural barriers, barriers which no doubt had kept countless adversaries on edge through his career, Tali had been able to discern that he was there for more than a friendly check-in.
Tali had realized, as she went downstairs and, joined by a high-spirited Koris and amicably weary Raan, scrounged about the cafeteria for foodstuffs compatible with quarian palettes, that her suspicion was likely irrational. After all, just because she had detected a businesslike undertone to Hackett's demeanor did not necessarily indicate anything to be worried about. Perhaps he simply wished to extend the formal gratitude of Alliance command, or to ask Shepard for his presence at some function or other sometime in the future.
But still, Tali worried, and more - something like a possessive jealousy had gripped her at the thought that Hackett's intent could be to enlist Shepard's aid for the Alliance. She had endured so much heartbreak, had put dear friends at risk, to be with him again, and the idea that circumstances might conspire to divide them once more inspired a kind of panic deep in her gut.
At the same time, Tali was a rational girl at her core, and as her mind reeled and her heart pattered at the long dining table, listening to her fellow admirals bicker about Ancestors knew what, she had been unable to suppress a wry smile and rueful shake of her head. Leave it to her to find some sinister, devious purpose in the goodwill and kindness of an old ally. A mental image of Shepard, grinning and chuckling as she shared her thoughts with him, had flashed in her mind; this cheered her immeasurably, and it had been with a lighter spirit that she left the cafeteria, managing to shake Koris's dogged questions about Hackett ("Forgive me if I've already asked, but - what did he discuss with the commander? Did he mention me? Of course, I'm not certain he heard my name properly, may indeed have confused him - being human, mind you, not questioning his intelligence – ") and rejoining Shepard in his room.
Her doubts had been quick to return, though, as it became clear he was hiding something from her. What it was, precisely, she could only guess; but she knew that he was just as perturbed by the concealment as she was, and somehow that made it all infinitely worse. He was wounded, yes, physically and mentally, but he had never been dishonest with her, even before their relationship escalated. That he, too, was wrestling with some internal strife made her feel both worried for him and insecure - for while she would willingly help to shoulder his burdens, if she could not lean on him, could not take comfort in his stability, where, then, would she find hers?
As she awoke to find the room still bathed in the blackness of night, her auditory emulators detecting only silence and the periodic beep of the medical devices nearby, these unwelcome thoughts resumed as though they'd never been broken, as though she'd not slipped into sleep at all. Tali spent a moment gaining her bearings, reaching up and absently rubbing at the surface of her purple visor. She set to reposition herself in her chair, resigned to more uneasy slumber - but a light caught her eye, and she paused, squinting blearily in its direction.
Her breath caught in her throat as she registered what she was seeing. She leaned forward anxiously, nearly catapulting out of the seat. "Shepard? Shepard, are you okay?"
Shepard slowly dragged a hand, which had been covering his eyes, down the length of his face, and then let it fall on his chest. He gave her a strained smile, but made no effort to wipe away the tear which was glistening on his cheek, capturing the scant light coming in through the window. "Hey," he said in a cracked, muted voice. He reached out and rested a hand on her arm with the slowness and imprecision of someone not yet fully awake. "Go back to sleep."
Tali's brows knit close together, and pain lanced briefly through her heart. They had always been so close, so open with each other, and suddenly she found herself fearing that she was losing him. How many more truths would he conceal from her? More importantly, why?
She placed one of her delicate hands atop his, pinning it to her arm. "Don't do this. Don't push me away." She used her free hand to gently wipe his tear away, speaking softly. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"
Shepard's eyes - wet and glistening, she noted - flickered down in the direction of her hand, and then, as it withdrew, to her eyes. It was as though her touch had flicked some unseen trigger: his lips, tightly pursed in an apparent bid to maintain composure, began to quaver slightly; his brow furrowed and twitched as he fought to contain new tears - but it was a failed effort, and a new drop spilled down his cheek.
Tali, whose empathy had always been uniquely acute - she remembered, as a girl, breaking down into tears as a peer she had never even liked mourned a pet - felt her heart lanced with pain, just as it had been upon first seeing Shepard on his hospital bed, in obvious agony. She clasped both hands to either of his cheeks and, unable to conjure any words, simply gazed into his eyes, trying to communicate all of her support and love, trying to give him strength as he had always provided her with his.
Shepard gripped her forearms tightly, almost mechanically, continuing to stare up at her, the muscles of his face working agitatedly. Tali waited with bated breath, praying to every god and any god that he would say something, anything, that he would just open up to her and let her help him and love him. It was a release that she had known, in the back of her mind, needed to happen - she remembered the shadow that had passed in Shepard's eyes while describing his awakening in the rubble of London, felt, now, that persistent unrest had tainted his spirit throughout her stay in Nathan Levitt Medical Center; an unrest that she realized, guiltily, that she had ignored, hoping that it would resolve itself and allow her to bask in much-desired contentedness.
"Legion," Shepard whispered hoarsely, abruptly, an imploring desperation in his eyes.
Tali's pulse hastened for a moment as she stroked his cheek, waiting for him to continue - but he said no more, only looked to her. Was that what was bothering him? Had Legion's death impacted him more than she thought? Or was it something deeper, something related? Qualms, maybe, about the resolution of the geth and quarian conflict?
"Legion?" Tali echoed quietly. She sighed. "I know. I miss him, too." Her hand moved up and massaged his forehead. "But he died at peace. He knew that our people were done fighting. And he knew that you were a big part of that, Shep - "
"No," Shepard cut her off fiercely. Tali blinked at the ferocity of it, but the aching of her heart only increased in tandem, for all of the venom in his voice was directed not at her but at himself. "You don't understand, Tali. Legion died so that the geth could have true life. He died because he knew his legacy would endure forever. And I..."
Tali's glowing eyes searched his face. "What?" She prompted delicately, for while part of her wanted to shout at him, scream at him, that he needed to stop beating himself up, that he needed to realize that everyone knew he had tried his best, had done more than anyone else to bring peace, she understood that he needed this - needed to say aloud what was bothering him, needed to end his solitary bearing of a burden great enough to make him shed tears.
Shepard's vicelike grip on her forearms tightened, but she did not attempt to pull free of it. His face contorted into a grimace of pain, but it was not the kind of pain that could be cured by any of Bont's manifold medicines. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes seeming to go in and out of focus, like his perception of her was being interjected with that of ghosts and specters.
And then those eyes, eyes which she had always been able to lose herself in, fixated on her, and she felt an inexplicable chill go down her spine. "I killed them, Tali," he whispered, a tear pooling and spilling down to the pillow. He pulled her closer; she opened her mouth to say something, but he kept going. "I killed the geth. They were just starting to live - Legion sacrificed himself so they could live - and I killed them."
His grip relaxed and then released. Tali sat back in her chair dazedly, mind struggling to process what it was, exactly, that Shepard was telling her. He ran a hand perfunctorily through his close-cut hair, staring into space.
"I saw him," he said, louder now, but his voice still shook - not significantly, just enough to betray a torment that he was trying and failing to control. "In my dream, just now. I - I tried to reach for him..." He held a hand before his eyes, uncurling its fingers slowly. "I asked him to forgive me. Oh, god, I just want him to forgive me." He looked to Tali again, beseechingly. "I just want to know - that I made the right decision. I just want - I just wish - that I could hear him say it."
His gaze fell. "But I can't. And I didn't. He didn't say anything, he just - burned...and I felt - I felt like I was the one who did it." He shook his head slowly. "I've taken so many lives, Reapers and Collectors and even other human beings...but I've never felt like a murderer before. Not until...this."
Tali said nothing, felt paralyzed, and only stared down into her lap, wringing her hands, ponderously and deliberately, a contrast to the hasty and compulsory fidgeting brought on by moments of embarassment. They sat that way for a time, both trying to figure out what came next, both realizing that it was impossible to know.
Finally Tali turned her head minutely in Shepard's direction, her eyes turning up to his. "We didn't know, Shepard. When you reached the Citadel beam, when you got on to the Crucible...you had no idea what it would do. None of us did. We just - hoped. That it would destroy the Reapers. No one knew it would kill other synthetics, too." She leaned in and rested her hands on one of his. "It's not your fault."
Shepard turned to her, too, head still canted down, so that he had to look up to meet her gaze. "I knew," he said quietly, voice cracking. Tali stiffened. "When I got on to the Crucible. I knew. The Catalyst told me."
"'Catalyst?'"
Shepard nodded. "The A.I. that controlled the Reapers. Made them. The entire Citadel was just its home, its body. This...ancient 'intelligence'..." his fist clenched so tightly that Tali's auditory emulators detected the sound of it. "Passed its judgment thousands of years ago. Decided organic civilizations needed to die every fifty thousand years to prevent synthetic takeover."
Hard, cold slits, almost unrecognizable from the usual expressive warmth of her lover's eyes, pierced Tali's visor and sent another shiver down her back. "This bastard, this - monster - dealt terms to me. While millions of people were fighting and dying because it said so, it told me what my choices were...and I took them, Tali. I chose to destroy the Reapers even though I knew the geth would die, too. That EDI would die."
The harshness faded, and Shepard slumped, looking smaller and more defeated than Tali had ever seen him. "I wasn't strong enough," he said thickly, tears escaping from both eyes, one trembling hand coming to rest on his forehead. "I was selfish, Tali - I couldn't stand the thought of losing you, the thought of you dying, of Garrus or Kaidan or Liara any of our friends dying, and I was so selfish - "
"Stop," Tali said as firmly as she could manage, getting to her feet and grasping his shoulders, and then her voice softened, and she leaned down, taking Shepard into an embrace, because while she did not know what to make of his words, did not know how to feel about what he was saying, she still knew one thing, strongly and without doubt: that she loved him. "Please...stop."
Shepard's strong arms wrapped around her with desperate tightness, as though she might disappear if he let go, and for the first time since they had met, since they had fallen in love, the bravest man she had ever known sobbed openly; not loudly, not stridently, but in the quiet, pure sadness of one whose soul has been truly and deeply wounded. Tali held him close, feeling her own eyes grow hot and wet until cool rivulets formed on her pale cheeks. She shared his pain, but at the same time felt a strange relief and happiness blossoming in her chest, because he had told her, he had trusted her as she trusted him, and as long as that was true, she knew they could work through any hardship together.
After what seemed a very long time, Shepard's muffled sobs subsided, and Tali pulled back slightly, her face hovering over his. She reached up with gloved fingers and gently, lovingly, wiped his cheeks clean.
"I can't say anything to make this go away," she said softly. "I can't say it'll all be okay, because...it won't. You did something that hurt you, and this is a cut that I don't think will heal.
"But, Shepard - " she planted her hands on either of his cheeks. He met her gaze unwaveringly, eyes glistening. "Maybe that's how it should be. When I thought you were dead, I knew my heart would never heal completely. I decided that was good. I wanted to always remember you, and how you enriched my life. And now...you need to let this wound remind you. Of Legion and the geth. The price you paid so that trillions of beings, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, could live."
And then she moved closer, so that her visor brushed against his nose, and she whispered: "You're not a monster."
Shepard's lips trembled, but remained tightly pursed, and as she embraced him again, he returned it just as tightly as before.
This time, he did not cry.
While, outside, the sun rose behind the cover of thick clouds, Javik watched Liara contemplatively as she and Miranda exited the female restroom (a concept which struck him as positively ridiculous) nearest the hospital lobby, chatting lightly. As ever, he found himself unable to fully grasp the concept of the lighthearted banter which so many of that cycle's inhabitants frequently engaged in. From the moment he had been born, during the final stages of his cycle's extermination, the importance and desperation of his purpose had been drilled into him and all of his peers; humor, in the rare moments where it was allowed, had been dark and macabre, and even the most personal interactions were tainted by the looming Reaper menace, making it difficult to divert to more easy conversational topics. Javik had been truly close to the crew of the vessel he had once commanded, but could not remember exchanging as many jokes with them in years of comradeship as his present company exchanged in a single hour.
His sharp perception of emotion - a source, he knew, of frequent discomfort for some - enabled him to discern, loosely, what his lover and her friend were discussing. His hearing, of course, was very sharp and missed little within a great range, but he took idle pleasure in ignoring audio as best he could and using what James Vega had once referred to as his 'sixth sense,' instead. It was a kind of sport, he reflected somewhat wistfully, that only a prothean could understand.
Liara was exuding nothing but warmth and calm, albeit with an occasional uptick of anxiety, borne, no doubt, from the mission she and Javik were planning to undertake that morning; Miranda, meanwhile, offered a more complicated emotional portrait. There was no ill will, but the calm happiness she was outwardly displaying was a well-practiced mask. He could feel that her focus was entirely on something else, something that she was very much anticipating.
Javik collected himself hastily as he noticed Liara giving a little wave and breaking off from Miranda, moving toward him. She gave him one of her curiously endearing smiles, which seemed at once vulnerable and shy and shrewd. "Sorry that took so long. I didn't expect to have company in there."
Javik propelled himself off of the wall on which he had been leaning and uncrossed his arms. "No matter. Are you ready?"
She nodded. "Yes. But - " She glanced quizically at the male bathroom. "You don't have to - ?"
Javik gave her a grim look. "I have not yet sunk so low. The Normandy was bad enough." He stalked off. "Come."
Though she was behind him, he felt rather than saw her amused eyeroll, a gesture, he had learned, which indicated incredulity. He suppressed a smile; while it was true that he found the human bathrooms awkward and unwieldy, he knew that he had been at least subconsciously trying to make her laugh. He would never have expected it, but the lyrical sound of Liara's laughter brought on a foreign and pleasant lightness in his stomach, and he was almost as intent on discovering what tickled her as he had been on defeating the Reapers.
Liara caught up to him and walked alongside. She looked around. "Did you happen to catch the time, last time we passed a clock?"
"It was 0800 when we left the lobby. The commander has had ample time to sleep."
"Is that so?" Liara quirked a brow, lip twitching upward.
Javik nodded solemnly. This brought on a laugh from his companion, and he basked in the sound, still at a loss as to why he enjoyed it so much. Liara wrapped her arms around one of his without losing a step. "Well, I hope you're right. I'd hate to wake Shepard up, but if I have to wait one more day to visit him, I might go insane."
Javik's pleasure at her merriment quickly spiraled into awkwardness. Although protheans did not suffer the same blushing as humans, he figured that what he felt at that moment was not entirely dissimilar. He grunted his affirmation.
Liara's smile widened, her blue eyes scanning his face benignly, and he could sense a swelling of affection in her which, somehow, did little to dispel his discomfort. "Javik, am I embarrassing you?"
"You speak nonsense, woman," Javik grumbled.
Another laugh was her response, and to the prothean's immense bewilderment, the lightness in his stomach returned despite his sudden surlyness. What was it about this asari that allowed her to mess with his emotions more effectively than any Reaper? "You know, the way you get all shy when I do this kind of thing in public is very nearly adorable."
Javik snorted. "That is a word I would prefer never to hear again in that context." And then, on an impulse which only baffled him further, he reached up and gave her hand a brief squeeze.
They continued down the corridors in contented silence, watching the flurry of activity all around them. A darkness appeared in Javik's perception of Liara, and he turned to her, frowning. "Something troubles you."
Liara glanced at him and then to the floor. "Javik, I've been...meaning to apologize."
Javik waited patiently until she continued. "On the roof the other day, I...got a little upset." She giggled quietly. "Well, that's an understatement. I got very upset. And I - said some things without thinking."
She stopped walking, extricating herself from Javik, who also came to a halt, facing her. Her expressive blue eyes turned up to him. "I didn't mean to disrespect your former crew. You obviously loved them, and I'm sure they were brave and capable men. I was just...so..." She trailed off, holding her hands out helplessly.
Javik said nothing for a long moment, simply letting his four eyes drill into her; as he expected of her, this strong and vibrant woman he had somehow fallen in love with, her gaze did not waver, and he detected no deceit in her words - the apology was genuine.
Just as he began to detect traces of nervousness in her - she surely feared she had said something wrong - he gave her a simple smile, his gaze softening. Relief poured out of her, and she reciprocated with a grin of her own. Happiness mingled with her relief as he took one of her hands and led her off, continuing their voyage to Shepard's room, knowing that she understood his love for her went deeper than any words could diminish.
The first thing Shepard noticed as he opened his eyes to begin a new day was Tali, snuggled next to him on his bed, one arm draped over his chest. The mattress was only designed for one occupant, and as a result the both of them were poised to slip off the edge - but Shepard didn't care, because for the first time in weeks, he not only felt alive, but clear, too, like an immeasurable weight had been lifted off of him.
The former commanding officer of the Normandy SR-2 took a deep, contented breath and nuzzled against the top of his quarian neighbor's visor. Memories flooded through his brain, but they were not those of friends dying, as they had been on waking for so long, and no accusatory voice whispered venom into his mind; instead he remembered Tali's support, and her love, that night, only hours ago, how she had helped him orient his perspective. This newfound sense of calm, long yearned for and persistently elusive, was thanks entirely to her, and the same, simple affection he had felt the other night, promising her that he would not let anything get between them again, swelled in him anew.
She had been right, earlier, and he knew the simplicity of her truth was the reason he had not been able to reach the same conclusion on his own - he had made a choice, one that left a wound, and it would not heal; indeed, should not, lest he forget the grim price paid for an end to cataclysmic war and genocide. No, he would carry this hurt, this internal pain - but he would not let it consume him, and he would not let it interfere with the important matters of the present.
He had, after all, made a promise.
Tali stirred, stretching her long, spry quarian legs, and rubbed his chest lazily with a hand. He looked down only to see that she was looking up at him with her smart, glowing eyes, and for a time neither one said anything.
Shepard broke the silence, speaking quietly in their close quarters. He placed a hand tenderly on the side of her visor. "Thanks."
Her fingers rose from his chest and rested atop his. "I reach for you," she whispered. "And you can always reach for me. I love you, Shepard."
"And I love you, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy." He twisted his hand and engulfed hers tightly. "More than I'll ever be able to express."
"We've got time," she replied dryly, and he heard the smile in her voice as she snuggled closer.
Shepard was prepared to launch an appropriately romantic reply when suddenly the door to his room swung unceremoniously open, revealing a rather unsettlingly dark Javik, his four eyes seeming to glow with unusual brightness on a face swathed in shadow. This situation was promptly rectified as the prothean flicked on the lights, whose services were much-needed considering that the murky cloudiness of the day prior had only intensified, rendering the daylight streaming in through the window largely useless.
Liara followed him in, gasping quietly at the scene which greeted her. The four of them stared at each other in a kind of stupor until finally Tali grudgingly pulled away from Shepard and got to her feet.
"Goddess, I'm so sorry," Liara said, speaking rapidly. "We didn't mean to interrupt anything. I was afraid this might happen - " She turned to Javik and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward her and the door. "We'll come back later."
"Liara," Tali said loudly, freezing the asari and her bemused-looking prothean companion in their tracks. "Don't worry. We're awake. You guys can stay." Clearly confident that the matter was settled, she looked to Shepard. "I'll get your water. Handle the meds?"
He glanced at the pill bottles on his bedside table and nodded. Liara watched uncertainly as Tali walked around the bed and brushed past her to the water dispenser until Javik placed a hand on the small of her back and spoke close to her ear. "There is no need to delay. Go. Sit."
This blunt rationality shook Liara out of her polite hesitation. She smiled briefly at Javik and made her way over to Shepard, assuming the bedside chair and beaming at him. "It's so good to see you. I've been looking forward to stopping by."
Shepard broke into a wide and relaxed grin, and he basked in the lack of strain behind it; it felt like all of his levity since regaining consciousness had been at least somewhat forced and insincere, bogged down by an open and untreated internal wound which had been finally, lovingly salved. "Great to see you, too, Liara. You look great. Healthy." His eyes fell on Javik, standing behind the chair, hands planted on the upper back. "Thanks for coming by, both of you."
The prothean nodded, following Tali's progress as she returned to Shepard's side and offered him a cup of water. "Your condition appears to be improving, commander."
"Mm." Shepard grunted around his cup as he drank a myriad of pills down. He lowered it, now empty, to his lap. "Gets better every day." He shot a mysterious, meaningful glance at Tali. "Especially this one."
Javik and Liara blinked at one another, and then the former's eyes lit in understanding. "Ah, yes. Sexual release was considered a standard part of some rehabilitation programs in my cycle."
The three other inhabitants of the room gaped at him and then burst into simultaneous laughter. Javik frowned at them, nonplussed, until the last chuckle subsided.
Shepard wiped at the corner of his eye. "That's not what I meant, Javik. But thanks for sharing." He arched a brow at Liara. "I think that should make for an interesting chapter in your book on the protheans."
Liara giggled. Javik, not to be deterred, pressed on. "If my interpretation was inaccurate, then what were you insinuating?"
"Nothing." Shepard shook his head and smiled up at Tali. "Don't worry about it. Tali's just been a big help." He appraised Liara and Javik in turn. "Really, all of you guys have been. Seeing everyone has been great medicine." He grimaced and indicated his med containers. "Better than this stuff, anyway."
Tali leaned in and gave him a hug. "I'm going to get some fresh air. Feels like I haven't been outside for months." She straightened and gave a friendly little wave to Javik and Liara. "I'll catch up with you guys later."
Liara and Javik beamed at her and nodded stoically, respectively. The quarian left, moving a little stiffly - longtime resident of the Migrant Fleet as she was, nothing could quite have prepared her for the discomfort of sharing a single hospital bed with her strongly-built boyfriend. Shepard grinned after her, and then turned his attention to his visitors. "So what've you guys been up to?"
Liara crossed one leg over the other and rested a hand atop the uppermost knee. "A little of this, a little of that." She cocked her head to one side. "Tali might have mentioned that I've retired as the Shadow Broker?"
Shepard raised his eyebrows and whistled. "That's a bombshell. No, guess she hasn't had a chance to mention that yet." His expression turned more serious. "Liara, you weren't in some kind of trouble, were you? Because we could - "
"Nothing like that," Liara interceded hastily, waving a hand dismissively. "I was just - tired. Like I said to Tali, being the Shadow Broker was consuming my entire life. I felt like I was losing myself. Now that the Reapers are gone, I decided it was okay to avoid that, and I left Feron in charge."
Shepard nodded. "Sounds like you made the right call, Liara. There's no doubt that you got us some valuable intel, but I worried about you."
Liara smiled warmly. "I know you did." She turned her face up to Javik. "Anyway, Javik and I spent some time on Thessia, volunteering to rebuild some of the damage. We made some big decisions there. Good ones."
"Oh?"
"Yes." Liara faced Shepard again, gesticulating vaguely in accompaniment to her words. "The simplest decision was for me to return to archaeology. I don't regret for a second the time I spent serving with you, Shepard, and I know the things we accomplished were far more important than digging up old ruins. But I missed it, nonetheless."
"That's great, Liara," Shepard said earnestly, and then crossed his arms, speaking wryly. "Think you'll be able to drop it again if I need your help fighting another race of sentient doomsday machines?"
Liara leaned back, pursing her lips in mock contemplation. "Depends. If you rescue me from another dig site situation, I'll find a way to manage."
Shepard laughed, wincing and holding the side of his torso. "Deal. So are you going to join up with old colleagues or something?"
"You could say that," Liara replied cryptically. Shepard blinked confusedly at her, and only barely managed to avoid gaping as the asari reached back and took one of Javik's hands into hers. "Javik and I are...together, Shepard. He'll be traveling with me." She smiled. "And we'll work on that book you mentioned, too."
The commander worked his mouth slightly a few times, as though searching for words, and then simply stared up at Javik, who met his gaze blankly and nodded. "It is true, commander. I love her."
"Oh," Shepard said lamely, and then cleared his throat, regaining some composure. "That's - great, too. Really." He chuckled. "I hope I'm not being rude. Just...well, I'll be honest, I did not see that coming."
Liara laughed. "I understand. I don't think we saw it coming, either."
Shepard's smile widened, and he looked to Javik again. "You're into archaeology, Javik? I wouldn't have guessed."
The prothean shrugged loosely. "My only interest in this existence has ever been to avenge my people. The Reaper menace has been erased, and the prothean empire rests easily. Whether or not I am interested in archaeology will be determined on the field." He considered the window for a moment. "The ruins we discover will likely be from my cycle. This intrigues me. There is much I might learn."
"That's a good point," Shepard agreed quietly, nodding. "There wasn't much time for history lessons during your life, was there?"
"Indeed not," Javik said in a way that heavily implied the topic was closed. While he seemed considerably more open to interaction than he had been on the Normandy, it was obvious that he was no more willing to accept pity.
Liara broke the ensuing silence, leaning forward in her chair. "Enough about us. What about you? What are you planning to do with the peace you fought so hard for?"
Shepard scratched at his jaw. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm still trying to come to terms with the way things are. Sometimes I think I'll wake up on the mud in front of the Citadel beam and discover the war never ended. That all of this - " he gestured all-encompassingly about him. " - has just been a dream. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm just taking things one day at a - ow!"
He glared at Javik, who had moved close with the stealth of a practiced predator while he spoke. The prothean blinked at him serenely and clasped his hand, which had just jabbed a patch of stitches none-too-gently, behind his back. "You feel pain. This is no dream or hallucination, commander. Clear your mind of such distractions and doubts."
"Thanks," Shepard said sarcastically. Liara clasped a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. Javik nodded, face unreadable - Shepard wondered if he had been attempting humor or had been serious - and returned to his place behind his companion's chair.
The asari reached out and squeezed Shepard's shoulder. "That's good, Shepard. Take it one day at a time. We're all here to help you through this, and beyond."
Shepard smiled at her, and at Javik, who nodded his concurrance to her words. "I know. I'm damn lucky to have a crew - friends - like you."
Liara smiled back, gave another squeeze of her hand, and then stood. "We'll let you rest. I'll stop by again soon." She paused. "And please, apologize to Tali for me - I feel horrible for barging in on you two. You looked so comfortable..."
"Liara, don't worry about it," Shepard chuckled. "It's not like we were doing anything important." Before she could respond, he gave her a roguish two-fingered salute. "See you soon. And thanks again."
The former Shadow Broker's expression relaxed, and with another wide smile, she made for the door. She stopped, however, when she noticed that Javik remained unmoving, and turned to him. "Are you coming?"
He touched her arm briefly. "Proceed without me. I will catch up with you soon."
Liara showed no sign of confusion at this, and kissed him on his cheek before opening the door and taking her leave; Shepard, however, could not hide his curiosity as he stared at Javik. "What's up?"
The prothean's gaze lingered on the door, and then he stepped closer, stopping next to Shepard's bed. "A strange expression. Inefficient and vague. It relies too heavily on an understanding of obscure slang."
Shepard's eyebrow quirked up. "I'll work on that."
Javik suddenly stiffened into something like military attention, his posture straightening, heels shifting together, but his hands remained slack at his sides. "Commander, I wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude."
Shepard was instantly shaking his head, holding up a hand. "Javik, there's no need to - "
"I insist." Javik hesitated, and then added, less stridently: "Please. It will not take long."
A reluctant nod was the commander's response. Javik lifted his chin. "When you and your squad ended my cyrogenic slumber, I was no more than a mad beast. I knew nothing but anger, and I responded to the confusion of a new world by wrapping myself in arrogance and conceit. I had the gall to think myself as superior to everyone I encountered. I clung to the belief that the prothean empire would rise again, that the Cosmic Imperative would reign supreme once more.
"But I was wrong." Javik paced several steps away and then returned. "The people of this cycle are vastly different from those in my own, and yet they are the same in the ways that matter, and superior in many others. Serving on your crew, I saw acts of bravery and courage. I saw kinship without restraint or shame. Men and women considered each other friend, brother and sister, regardless of their rank or station. I saw..." he glanced down at the floor, and when his eyes rose again, there was a soft light in them. "I saw love, supporting people in times of struggle and darkness, giving a greater meaning to their fight than any military discipline or lifelong breeding could ever hope. Something the protheans needed much more of."
Javik stared hard at Shepard. "So I must thank you, commander. Thank you for awakening me from the purgatory my people placed me in. Thank you for giving me a place in your squad, even when you had no obligation to do so, even when I made no effort to hide my venom and arrogance. But most significantly, commander...thank you for allowing me to learn that life is far more valuable than death.
"To you, I owe my allegiance, my kinship, and my life."
And then Javik the prothean bowed, low and deep, to a man whose species his own had once regarded with the academic curiosity of a man studying a beetle, for the prothean empire was dead, would be dead forever more -
But he was not, and, for this leader of beings, for Liara, for all those he called comrades, he would live for the present.