Author's Note:
Real life once again took me hostage, hence the long delay between updates, but I finally managed to free myself from its shackles and put pen to paper, so to speak.
Thank you for reading; thank you for following; and thank you for leaving feedback. You may not be aware of this, but knowing someone is interested in the tale being told has the ability to galvanize and motivate even when free time becomes a limited resource.
Thanks again! I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 12
Stepping through the threshold of Shepard's apartment and walking down the long, lonely hallway toward the elevator without casting a backward glance was the most difficult thing Liara T'Soni had ever done in her life. There were other moments that had been more harrowing. Witnessing the death of her mother in the cold, sterile lab on Noveria, watching the Reapers methodically exterminate everything on the surface of Thessia, her home world, and observing the destruction of the Normandy SR-1—subsequently being witness to the death of the first person she came to love. In those moments, just as this one, she felt helpless to stop the event from occurring, but what set this moment beyond the reach of the others was the fact that she felt she should have been able to do something to prevent the tragedy from spiraling to its final conclusion. She should have been able to find the right words to say to get past Shepard's defenses. She should have found a way to stay in the apartment and continue the discussion. She should have been able to figure out what was really troubling her lover.
As the elevator took her to the lobby on the main floor, her mind replayed their argument and the explosive display. How had their discussion even escalated to that level? She didn't want to place all the blame on Shepard because it takes two to sustain an argument, but something odd was definitely in the mix. Shepard's volatile reaction to her absence felt leaps and bounds beyond the normal, and while she acknowledged her own part in the clandestine conversation, she couldn't help but feel the cards had been stacked against her before she even entered the room. Shepard had been looking for a fight.
Of course Liara had no proof that her hunch was correct, and honestly, she wasn't too concerned with confirming her suspicions. She was more concerned with why Shepard had been looking for a fight. Why Shepard suddenly wanted nothing to do with her and seemed determined to make her leave the apartment. Yes, to her own dismay, she had gotten wrapped up in Shadow Broker business and missed Shepard's release from the hospital. The emergency was unforeseen—an accident with the Omega-2 Relay causing heavy casualties in the Sahrabarik system. Liara had spent the day helping organize the rescue and recovery efforts and time had slipped by so quickly in the chaos that before she knew it most of the day had passed her by.
As for missing the messages Shepard had sent, Liara knew she only had herself to blame. She had overtaxed the remote communication node while helping the relief efforts which sent the device into auto-shutdown. Normally, that wouldn't be an issue because all processes should have been automatically rerouted to the secondary node, but during the initial installation she'd been so driven to help the refugees that she had neglected to take the time to properly configure the backup. Even after the primary node was activated, instead of making the secondary system a priority, she had chosen to spend any and all of her free moments in the hospital with Shepard while she recovered from her injuries. So, that afternoon, by the time Liara had had the primary system back up and re-synched to the network, Shepard had left her final message. Liara tried at that time to return her calls, but Shepard's omni-tool had been switched to privacy mode.
As Liara traveled along a pedestrian walking path heading toward her rented loft to regroup and devise a plan of action, her hands vigorously rubbed the length of her arms in an attempt to warm herself. Night had long ago fallen over the city of Wellington and a chilly fog had ridden in from the sea blanketing the lower coastal plain under an eerie haze. She wasn't sure if it was the cool air that sank through the layers of clothing and bit at her skin or if it was the heavy weight of heartache and unease. Shepard had acted out in anger with her twice that evening, something she would never have predicted because the reaction was so out of the Spectre's character. Although shocked by the violent display of having her lover angrily punch the wall next to her, Liara never felt fear for her herself. If anything she felt fear and concern for her lover who was obviously behaving oddly and was visibly agitated about something.
The Asari assumed Shepard's physical and mental distress were tied to her experience with the Catalyst and whatever events unfolded just before the wave of red energy had spread throughout the galaxy. The connection was indisputable even if Shepard was staying silent about what transpired during those moments she was off the grid. The forced admission that she remembered what happened and her adamant refusal to discuss the subject was enough for Liara to be more than just concerned. She was anxious. She needed to figure out how to help her lover, if not directly, then indirectly.
Liara looked up and saw that the moon hung heavily in the sky, waning towards its final stage when just a slight crescent of light could be seen on its left side before the New Moon appeared. Shepard, who had an interest in folklore and myths, once explained the lunar cycles naming each phase and describing their meaning. This was the Balsamic phase, the time to surrender, rest, and release. No more thinking, planning, getting in your own way or action of any kind. Just peace. These final days which ushered in the New Moon were also called the Dark of the Moon because they shed so little light. Symbolically, this suggested that the inner world was more important than the outer world and was supposed to relate to healing and rest, since it was the last phase before the New Moon emerged.
At that very moment, Liara stopped mid-stride as a sense of foreboding washed over her like the chill of an icy wind. She blinked back a flood of tears born from frustration and grief, burying them deep within her, placed rigidly under control so that she could continue to function. She needed some insight into her lover's inner turmoil and although feeling a bit foolish, she looked determinedly into the night sky impulsively wishing for the moon's assistance in illuminating her lover's suffering. Earlier, she told Shepard that if she didn't know what was wrong, she wouldn't be able to help and while that was true, she neglected to add that she desperately wanted to help.
After a few moments, Liara sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around herself in a comforting hug. Still gazing up at the majestic celestial body, a wistful look blanketed her face as she let her thoughts wander. She and Shepard had had their share of arguments in the past, but nothing ever escalated to such a temperamental level. Liara couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew something or some things were warring within her lover and they were slowly wearing down her fortitude and self-control. She knew Shepard hated being or feeling out of control, which is why she also knew something was amiss. Every fiber of her being screamed out that there was something she was missing. Something she was unable to put her finger on or see clearly. She needed a new perspective. She needed to talk to someone who knew Shepard as well as she did or at least knew her in different ways.
With her decision made, Liara abruptly turned around and headed toward a main thoroughfare. Fifteen minutes later, after hailing a cab, she found herself standing in front of an apartment door.
Liara scowled as second thoughts rummaged through her mind. Pulling her shoulders back, she straightening her posture as though physically fortifying her decision, then her hand reached out and rang the buzzer. A few minutes later the door swooshed open revealing its inhabitant.
"Dr. T'Soni…?"
Taking a deep breath, Liara consciously swallowed her pride. "Ms. Lawson," she said, stuttering slightly over the greeting as the rest of her words died upon her lips. This was going to be more difficult than she anticipated.
Miranda leaned against the door frame. "It's late," she replied, not unkindly. When the Asari remained silent, fidgeting in the hall, the brunette frowned. "Liara, is something wrong? Is Shepard okay?"
Seeing the confused, if not concerned, look upon the former Cerberus officer's face shook Liara out of her reverie. She cleared her throat self-consciously and began again. "Miranda, I-I need your help."
…
The next morning Lakota had awoken to the sun streaming into her living room through the glass door leading to the balcony. Shielding her eyes from the irritatingly bright illumination, she rolled to a seated position on the couch, her bare feet resting on the carpeted floor. She stretched her arms over her head in order to loosen the kinked muscles in her shoulders. Still feeling uncomfortable in her newly assigned quarters, she couldn't bring herself to sleep in the bed, so she had stayed on the couch long after her tears had dried and eventually, she had fallen into a restless slumber.
Fingertips gently rubbed her itchy, dry eyes as she assessed her body's state of disarray. Her muscles ached from the workout of the previous morning, her eyes were swollen from the tears she had shed, an excruciating pain was pounding through her head, and her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, courtesy of the amber drink she'd consumed the night before. At that moment, she vowed to never again drink whiskey on an empty stomach.
Rising from the couch, she headed towards the kitchen to get a bottle of filtered water and replenish some of the fluids her body cried out for. With eyes still bleary from the early stages of wakefulness, the Spectre didn't notice the danger she was heading towards until she felt a sharp pain, like a pin prick, on the bottom of her right foot. Immediately she stopped, looked down and saw the issue- small shards of broken glass lay strewn on the floor. Memories from the night before flooded her mind—the anger, the resentment, throwing the empty glass, watching it shatter as it hit the wall, seeing Liara's alarmed reaction…
A tightness seized Lakota's chest at the vivid recollection of her lover's frightened appearance.
With bitter regret, she tried to push the distressing images of Liara out of her mind. In her head, she could clearly see the Asari's unveiled blue eyes staring at her with an unmistakable expression of hurt and confusion, the shock as she witnessed the Spectre's unprecedented violent display and the look of defeat as she walked out of the apartment. Lakota was sickened by her own actions. She had felt possessed, driven even, to remove Liara from her presence, but she never imagined her aggravation and frustration would escalate to a physical manifestation. She had lost control and lashed out in anger. Now there was only the humiliation that left a debilitating weakness in its wake, and a sense of shame that bit deep at her psyche. Her reprehensible demeanor and distasteful actions towards Liara were inexcusable and Lakota didn't know how she could make it up to her or if the Asari would even be able to forgive her at all.
Whether or not she would forgive herself was another matter entirely.
The Spectre shook her head as though trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't afford to go down that road. Not now, not yet. Since waking in the hospital her mind had felt foggy and her actions felt controlled, as though she were a puppet on a string. The sensation was fleeting most of the time but always lingering in the back of her head and always a source of irritation when she was able to focus on it. Her memories of the Catalyst, the Citadel, and the choices she was given also plagued her thoughts to the point of distraction which wasn't productive if she was ever going to figure out a viable plan of action.
Before Lakota would be comfortable making her next move, she needed her head to be clear and her emotions to be in check. Her hot-headed temper, something she usually had a tight rein on, had gotten the best of her creating a bloody mess of things with both Javik and Liara. So, until they were back under tight control she wasn't intending to make any more impetuous moves. That meant not seeking out Liara or apologizing for her brazen behavior until after she regained full mastery of herself. The only way she knew to do that was to ground herself and get in touch with the inner peace, the steadiness that she knew existed within which was independent of external circumstances. Various meditation techniques could help her attain the state of inner stillness she was seeking, but because she felt so out of sync with her center, she knew she required additional counsel. She needed to talk to someone who would intrinsically understand her issues and her inner dilemma. Someone she trusted impeccably and who would have the wisdom to guide her. Someone who had experienced their own personal hell and survived.
Lakota took a moment to pick the small glass shard out of her foot. The cut was minor and would heal on its own without any additional attention. Then, she grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and headed toward the master bath, which was just off the main bedroom. After showering, she pulled her long, dark hair back into a pony-tail, then found some clean clothes and dressed quickly, donning a pair of navy blue cargo pants with a matching blue and grey short sleeved top and Marine issue black boots. The pants were snug enough to accentuate her athletic legs while the shirt was loose enough to give a hint of sensuality beneath its surface. Although Lieutenant Calibri made sure the apartment was fully stocked, each piece of clothing was new and military issue so there was a stiffness in them that could only be worked out by being worn and laundered many times.
Lakota briefly wondered how the Lieutenant knew what size she wore, and then sardonically assumed there was probably a notation with all her specific measurements somewhere in her personal file.
After securing the apartment, Lakota used her omni-tool much like a GPS to locate her friend whose omni-tool was also active, and then hailed a cab as she rode the elevator down to the main floor. Twenty minutes later, she was walking through the Wellington Botanical Gardens toward a circular pond near the center of the twenty-five acre historical landmark. From ancient to colorful flowerbeds, the garden pathways winding throughout the grounds were beautifully complimented with unique landscapes and floral displays while also boasting a great view of the city and harbor. The pond itself was edged on one side by a semi-circular promenade with good bench seating. The other side was flanked by vibrant bushes and tall native and exotic trees.
She found her friend sitting on the ground underneath an old twisting magnolia tree, the mid-morning sunlight magnificently showcasing its large upswept pink-and-white blossoms. The fragrance from the striking blooms, creamy sweet with a light citrus nuance, added to the serene nature of the already tranquil environment. The regal woman was in her customary meditation pose—a yoga style lotus position—as violet biotic tendrils danced along her blue-hued skin.
"Samara," Lakota said softly, not wanting to startle the Asari. The Matriarch was dressed in her custom made burgundy armor that was perfectly molded to every contour and curve of her lissome body, and blessed with a neckline that bordered on racy. Smiling inside, Lakota wondered not for the first time if Asari cleavage was considered a defensive weapon.
The Justicar opened her eyes, contemplating the Spectre momentarily before letting her biotics fade away. She was a radiant woman, statuesque, with multi-hued blue skin and delicate freckles that traced down from her temple and fading away along the slant of high cheek bones. Although beautiful, her grace and elegance were matched easily by the tenacious lethality in which she dispensed Asari justice. "Shepard," she said, tilting her head in the human's direction, "this is an unexpected surprise."
"Hopefully, not unwelcome."
"Your company is always pleasing, unless of course you're engaged in one of your mischievous undertakings."
Lakota chuckled, waving both hands in front of her defensively. "No practical jokes, not today anyway."
The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Samara's lips. "That is undoubtedly most fortunate for me."
"May I join you?" Lakota asked, formally.
Dipping her head in affirmation, the Justicar said, "Of course."
While traveling together on the Normandy SR-2, Lakota had found solace in the company of the Justicar as they spoke of their individual journeys, discussed philosophy and spent time meditating together. Since her childhood, meditation had been a way for the Spectre to manage stress, which in turn enhanced her overall physical health and emotional well-being. On a deeper level, it added to the quality of her life by teaching her to be fully alert, aware, and alive. After waking up in the Cerberus lab and discovering two years had passed, meditating became an exercise that lay frustratingly out of her grasp. Her mind, too cluttered with thoughts and emotions of the past, present and future was unable to attain the state of 'thoughtless awareness' regardless of the technique or how much time she devoted to the exercise. Then, the Justicar joined her squad and invited Lakota to participate in a meditative exchange. From that successful endeavor bloomed a series of mutually restorative and revealing experiences that served to strengthen their bond of friendship more profoundly than camaraderie could on its own.
Just as on the Normandy, Lakota took her usual position, sitting on the ground, facing the Justicar and mimicking her resting pose.
After watching the Spectre get settled on the spongy, green grass, Samara said, "Something troubles you."
"That obvious, eh?"
"Only to one who knows you well."
"Touché."
"What concerns you, my friend?"
Lakota's heart started to pound. She wasn't prepared to talk about what happened on the Citadel with anyone—let alone Samara. What the hell was she thinking when she sought out the Justicar? "How is it that you're still here?" she asked, deflecting the question with one of her own. Stalling for a few more moments might give her enough time to steel her courage. "I thought you'd be with Falere by now."
Samara tilted her head, knowing the Commander purposely avoided her inquiry, but allowed the conversation to be segued without a fight just the same. "I have been in contact with my daughter and she is well. I will make the journey to Lesuss sometime in the future, but for now, I sense I can be of more service here than there."
Nodding in understanding, Lakota commented, "Seems there's a lot of that going around. Garrus, Tali and Kasumi are staying planet-side for another week or so. Jack and Kaidan are on leave until they get their new orders from the Alliance. Of course you know that Chakwas and Miranda have been assigned to watch over my recovery, which is nothing more than a glorified babysitting detail, if you ask me." The Spectre rolled her eyes, an outward expression of her mild but rapidly growing annoyance. She truly despised having her every action monitored but knew that was exactly what was happening and there was very little she could do about it for the time being. In fact, she assumed the Alliance had agents watching her now and had identified three possible suspects while traveling to the gardens.
The Justicar smiled softly as the Spectre's eyes glazed over, her mind clearly engaged on an inner dialogue. "What of the rest of the Normandy crew?"
Lakota was immediately shaken out of her reverie by the Asari's inquiry. Despite the fact that she had sought out the Justicar with a specific purpose in mind, she felt an intrinsic need to ease into the subject matter and conversing about their friends was one of the safest topics to begin with. Also, one of the least controversial. "Most of the Alliance personnel have been dispatched to other ships while the Normandy undergoes repairs. Cortez, Vega, Traynor and Joker all volunteered for the assignment. It's a nice setup. They get to shuttle down to the planet on their days off."
"And Javik?"
Lakota coughed, flashing a sheepish smile as her right hand self-consciously rubbed the back of her neck. "You know," she said awkwardly, "I'm not sure. We haven't had that much conversation."
"But you've spoken with him."
"Yes." To Lakota, the inflection in Samara's voice hinted at knowing more than her words revealed, but then again she was a Justicar with centuries of experience tracking down criminals and rooting out the truth with minimal effort, so maybe she was just fishing for information out of habit. Regardless, the Spectre erred on the side of caution and remained silent about her confrontation with the Prothean a day earlier.
The Asari's scrutinizing eyes narrowed perceptively, as though trying to see through a shadowy veil. "Shepard," she began, "your aura is troubled. You feel conflicted about something."
Lakota opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. While true, she didn't know how to reply to such a bold, accurate statement.
"Shall I haphazardly guess what troubles plague your mind or will you tell me on your own?" Samara asked, in a soothing almost lyrical tone that held just hint of teasing. When Lakota failed to answer, the Justicar followed her instincts and gently coaxed the conversation forward. "I noticed you mentioned nothing of Dr. T'Soni… or of EDI."
The Spectre stared at the Justicar, jaw slightly open, in a dumbstruck haze. She should have known the Asari would hit the nail on the head without any guidance from her. That was part of the reason she liked Samara so much. Whether it was the Justicar's long years of service or just a natural gift, she was exceptionally perceptive.
Chuckling ruefully, Lakota said, "What I wouldn't give for a few husks about now. Anything for a little distraction. Strange as it sounds, I almost long for the days back on the Normandy when we were trying to figure out what happened to the human colonists. Jumping from one lead to the next and from one battle to another, recruiting help along the way. No time to stop and think about what it all meant, the big picture, or ruminate on past choices."
Blue eyes, almost translucent, pinned the human like an insect in a spider's web. "You are troubled about choices you've made." It was a statement, not a question.
"When it comes to the Reapers, I've made some poor ones along the way."
"We were all faced with choices, Shepard. In the end, the most important choice presented to us was whether to fight or submit. We all chose to fight."
Lakota exhaled audibly, clearly not agreeing with the assessment. "But in the end it was I who chose to destroy the Reapers. I made that choice for everyone. And the Geth suffered."
"Shepard, you ended the Reaper massacre and while many Geth perished when the red wave descended, their race yet survives. You cannot blame yourself for their casualties just as you cannot blame yourself for the fall of Thessia. While tragic, the blame resides solely with the Reapers. Their actions precipitated the tragedy. The alternative, to submit, would have been far worse."
"Those are the very same words I told myself when I made the choice. But then I woke up in a hospital bed with nothing to do but think and I started to realize how empty they sounded." The Spectre scowled, a deep frown etching in her features. "By making the choice for everyone, force feeding the outcome down their throats, I feel like I've become the enemy… the monster we've all been fighting."
Lakota raised a hand to halt the reply she saw on the Asari's lips. "Samara, I know things seem like they turned out well, the Reapers are gone, the races survived, the Mass Relay system is still intact, but I'm telling you, something is not right. This wasn't how it was supposed to play out."
Samara sighed softly, as if knowing how difficult this conversation was for the human. "The Reapers have been defeated, so if you are still troubled, clearly it is because of some other outcome."
Nodding her head in agreement, the Spectre whispered, "True."
It wasn't what Lakota had intended to do, but the Asari had her pinned with one of those looks that conveyed the depth of her near-thousand years of great wisdom, and before she knew it, she was explaining everything about the beam, the Catalyst, the Crucible, the choices she was given and ultimately the choice she made. She held nothing back, not the fact that the Geth were suppose to die, that EDI was suppose to die and how she was supposed to perish in the destruction as well. When she was through, the Justicar shook her head thoughtfully, but remained silent as though contemplating the implications of the story.
Shifting her weight slightly, Lakota readjusted her crossed legs, alleviating the growing sensation of pins and needles that had begun to spread through her lower extremities. Still recovering from her injuries, her body wasn't use to being immobilized in a constrictive position for such a long period of time. After settling back into a more comfortable pose, she cleared her throat, hesitantly asking, "Do you remember our last conversation, the last thing you said to me before the final battle?"
Samara nodded and then repeated those words to the woman sitting across from her. "Only your actions will be remembered. May you choose them well."
A wistful smile graced the Spectre's lips as she tilted her head towards the sky and closed her eyes. Breathing in deeply, she noted the sweet scent of magnolia blooms mingling with the salt air rolling in from the sea. "I don't know if I chose well."
Lifting a brow, as if surprised, Samara asked, "What does this have to do with EDI?"
"In the Alliance, I'm considered an Infiltrator, an assassin of sorts and viewed as one who can terminate a life-form, up close or at a distance, without hesitation or regret. As a Spectre, I've been entrusted with extraordinary authority, even the power to grant life or dispense death without fear of rebuttal, in order to fulfill my duty which is doing whatever is needed to preserve galactic stability." Lakota tone was neither cutting nor cruel, just a matter-of-fact nonchalance as though reading from a technical manual. "Over the years, both careers being considered, I have ended many lives… directly and indirectly."
Samara considered the Commander's words, but remained silent, knowing she had more to say.
Taking a slow, measured breath, Lakota continued. "It's not the massive amounts of casualties that weigh down on me the most, it's the individual deaths. And not the lives I've taken, either. It's the ones that were lost to me. Thane, Jacob, Legion, Ashley, Mordin… There are others, of course, but those deaths were… are… the most difficult for me to reconcile… the most raw, the heaviest to bear. Still, I managed to forge ahead, to continue the good fight." Moody green eyes locked onto serene blue in uncompromising honesty. "Until now, that is. Turns out that the one death I can't bear is the one that never happened."
"EDI," the Asari stated, concern etched into her features.
Lakota's shoulders slumped forward. Suddenly, she felt very weary. "Samara, I never knew my mother or father. I have no siblings. I was raised without family."
"Yet in the past you have stated that your crew, those close to you, became your family."
Lakota winced as though she had been struck. "There's an old Earth saying: Blood is thicker than water. It means that the ties of family run deeper than any other kind of relationship. We'll often do things for members of our family we'd never dream of doing for anyone else. In absence of any blood relatives, my ties, my bond to certain members of my crew became just as thick, my devotion just as deep." She looked at the Justicar, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Tell me," she said, her voice laced with bitterness and venom, "what kind of person is willing to casually murder an innocent family member?"
Unfazed by the question, the Justicar replied, "You were faced with a difficult choice, Shepard, and although your decision was made without outside counsel, it was no more casual than my choice to become a Justicar. The deaths your decision called for were an unfortunate, but also an unavoidable consequence. I, more than anyone, understand this."
"Oh fuck," Lakota said apologetically, her face falling into the palms of her hands, hidden from view. "I'm so sorry, Samara. I'm such an ass. I didn't think. I didn't mean—"
"It's alright, Shepard," the Asari soothed. "I understand your meaning and hold no ill will. After Morinth's death, I told you I was a ruined vessel of sorrow and regret, but that I was free. With Rila's passing, sorrow and regret continue to fill me, but I am still free. And once again it seems, I am in your debt. Your actions at the monastery have given me a second chance with Falere. There are no words which can adequately express my gratitude for that precious gift."
Lakota abruptly lifted her head, studying the Asari keenly. "All that you gave up to become a Justicar, to track down Morinth… Was it worth it?"
"It was never a question of worth, but a question of need. I had to take the action I did with Morinth. It was never a story that would have a happy outcome. Just as yours was never going to end without casualties."
Placing her hands on her thighs, Lakota exhaled releasing a tension she hadn't been aware of carrying. "You did your duty, followed The Code, but what about your feelings on the matter?" Although she was asking Samara the questions, Lakota knew that somewhere in her psyche, she was asking the same questions of herself and struggling with the answers.
"That day on Omega, one of my daughters died. Less than a month ago at the monastery, a second daughter perished. My hopes, my dreams have always been bound up in my children and so I am grateful that Falere remains in my life. Still, my feelings have always come after my duty. The same is true of you." Tilting her head inquisitively, Samara redirected the question that was asked of her. "You did your duty, Shepard, but what about your feelings?"
Lakota felt tension pull her shoulders together and feather a small, questing tendril of pain toward the back of her right eye. "EDI was innocent and my decision ended… should have ended her life. But," she admitted hesitantly, "given the same set of circumstances, I know I'd make the same choice."
Shaking her head, the Spectre continued, her voice raw and gravely. "You want to know the real twist in this tragedy? I would have made the same choice regardless of who was supposed to die. It could have just as easily been Garrus instead of EDI. Or Tali." Pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb, she whispered, "Even Liara." A sickness burned through her body, from her head down to her toes, as the bitter truth of her confession descended like an oppressive shroud. "What kind of person does that make me?"
"The kind who is willing to put aside their personal feelings to do what is needed," the Justicar replied without hesitation.
"Samara," the Spectre said wistfully, the tone of her voice betraying her regret, "we set out to save the galaxy. And it has been saved… but not for me."
Frowning, the Justicar asked, "What do you mean?"
There was a pause and Samara waited patiently for her friend to respond. It was clear to her that Lakota was struggling with many burdens and finding them difficult to process. The human's personal strife was taking its toll mentally and emotionally, and in time would seep into her physical and spiritual well-being. The Asari was intimately acquainted with such inner dissonance and hoped that by simply talking and listening to Lakota, it would help her navigate the maze of her internal discord.
"Over the course of the war, I started to lose myself. I know that on more than one occasion I fell short of my own values." As though reciting a law of nature, Lakota took a deep breath and doggedly stated, "You don't betray family… Yet, that is exactly what I did. I betrayed EDI and apparently, I am willing to betray anyone who is close to me." Then her shoulders sagged in an act that could only be equated to an all-consuming defeat. "If I had died, this would be a moot point. But I survived and so did EDI, so now whenever I see her I am reminded that I would sacrifice her with no more than a backward glance."
"I hardly think that is a fair or accurate assessment," the Justicar said, knowing the Spectre's words were generated by guilt and remorse which were still fresh and raw.
Lakota shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to argue the point. "Sometimes," she confessed, "it seems easier to fight for our principles than live up to them."
"It's never easy," Samara affirmed as she studied the human's expression, "but if we turn our backs on our principles, our Code, we stop being ourselves." Gently, she added, "I believe you may be confusing your principles with your values."
"You see them as different?"
The Asari titled her head in affirmation. "I believe principles are immovable truths. They are ingrained within the very core of one's being and govern all action. Your unwavering determination to stop the Reapers was bound in your principles. I see values as things, ideas, beliefs that come from interaction with others; from past experiences. They are important to the bearer, but are mutable as new experiences unfold."
Lakota sighed softly and nodded, collecting her thoughts. Instead of giving an example of a value, the Justicar left it ambiguous which somehow made her message more significant. The Asari believed that her internal struggle regarding EDI was based on mutable values, not staunch principles.
Maybe Samara is right, the Spectre thought. As she continued to brood, a prickly sensation slipped down Lakota's spine finding its way to the pit of her stomach and then settled in like a block of cold concrete. "You once told me if I ever made you do something dishonorable that you would kill me when you were released from your oath."
To any other who overheard the conversation and picked up on the innuendo woven within the Spectre's statement, they may have misinterpreted its meaning. But the Justicar, who had shared more than just blood and sweat and pain with the woman before her, knew exactly what her friend was asking.
"Shepard…" Samara's even gaze was infinitely compassionate, "what you seek is not within my power to give."
Deflated, Lakota's chin sank to her chest, the dull throbbing in her head becoming more prevalent. "I know."
"Only you have the power to forgive yourself."
"That sounds like some self-help infomercial mumbo jumbo," the Spectre remarked blandly, a wan smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. "Don't think that's going to happen any time soon, though."
Samara wanted to offer her friend support, but knew that right now emotional overtures would be dismissed as irrelevant. So instead, she took a more rational approach. "It's right that one should stand by and act on their values, but it's not right to hold those values in obstinate blindness or retain them when proved to be erroneous."
The Spectre frowned, the wry humor dissipating from her features, leaving them blank. "So you think I am being erroneous?"
"That's not for me to judge. Only you can be an honest witness to your actions…"
"But…?"
The Justicar raised her eyebrow inquisitively. "But?"
Lakota blinked. "It sounded as though there was a 'but' in there."
Shaking her head almost imperceptibly, Samara contemplated the oddity of how in less than two years the Spectre had come to know her better than relationships that had lasted centuries, friends and lovers alike. "But…," she said, "by following The Code, I have found that my values serve as a guiding force and provide a sense of direction while my principles serve as an anchor to which my values are bound. When conflict arises and my values are in question, my principles light the way."
The Spectre's face fell into the palms of her hands, her fingers gently rubbing her closed eyes. After a moment, she lifted her head and looked directly into the Justicar's eyes. "I still feel that I failed in my duty. I failed my friends..." Exhaling heavily, Lakota finally whispered what lay at the heart of her despair. "That I failed myself."
"There is no need for self-recriminations, Shepard."
"Actually, there is," the Spectre said sardonically, her aching head falling once again into her hands. Although talking with Samara was an immeasurable boon, she was still unwilling or unable to forgive herself. Not yet. Maybe never.
"You are an honest individual," the Asari stated firmly. "That is something we share, so let me be honest now and remind you of a truth that you seem to have forgotten. Or are neglecting." Samara reached out and touched the Spectre's chin with her fingertips, urging her head up gently so that she was looking directly into that stormy gaze. "There can be no victory without suffering. No freedom without sacrifice."
Lakota held the look for a long time, her eyes searching Samara's face. The Asari maintained her serious expression, knowing how important it was that the Spectre be reminded that she wasn't alone, that people who cared about her, who accepted her unconditionally, were standing as close as she would allow. Finally, the Spectre inhaled deeply, letting the Justicar's words sink in as her expression eased and the fine lines around her eyes smoothed out. She didn't know how she was going to come to terms with the choices she made, but for the moment, she was willing to concede that such an undertaking wouldn't produce immediate results. Inner peace would take time.
With some effort, she ignored the pounding in her head and concentrated on eliminating the troubles from her mind. Letting go of these worries and concerns didn't mean she would avoid them, rather it would allow her to pick them back up at her own convenience, when she felt that she had the tools and determination to resolve them. So instead of focusing on the regret, guilt, shame and disappointment she felt, she concentrated on the serenity of the landscape, the friendship that was freely given and the knowledge that since she was alive, she still had a chance to make things right. Surprisingly, with each passing moment, as she released her concerns and worries, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders and the dull ache behind her eyes began to recede.
Since leaving Earth those many months ago, Lakota couldn't recall a time when she felt more at peace. Questions about what really happened with the Catalyst and the Reapers still needed to be answered, but they could be put to the side for now. There was much that she still had to settle within herself and resolve with Liara, but in this moment she felt like she finally had the fortitude to see things through to the end. She felt as though both of her feet were placed firmly on the ground.
"This reminds me of our talks in the Normandy's observation lounge," Lakota said wistfully, but meaning every word. "I've missed them."
Samara tilted her head slightly, looking at the Spectre with the slightest smile on her lips. "I also enjoyed our talks. Very much." Reflecting on everything that had been revealed this afternoon, she added, "I think that you are remarkable, Shepard."
Managing a bemused grin, Lakota replied, "Likewise, Samara." She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turning her head toward the pond, watched as a pair of ducks drifted lazily upon the water. Deep contentment blossomed in her chest at the tranquil sight. "So, what now?"
"I am content as we are Shepard. Let us sit a little longer."
The Spectre nodded as they fell into a companionable silence, enjoying the lush, vibrant surroundings and temperate weather. She closed her eyes …
Vengeful winds howled across the desolate plains and a thundering roar sounded above as a ship of unfamiliar design careened across the blood red sky. Then, without warning the heavens were torn asunder with ships of various sizes and shapes, none of which were recognizable. They did battle, flying in every direction as mad dashes of orange energy streaked from horizon to horizon. Destruction rained down in every direction, smoke and ash rose choking any remaining pockets of clear sky while a coldness almost beyond bearing swept through, sapping the will to fight and endure. A torrent of anger and desperation clung to the very air, heavy and oppressive, suffocating her as the stark alien landscape began to fade from view...
…It was at that precise moment when Lakota sensed the blissful embrace of death approaching.
