A/N: There are references to non-consensual sex in the following chapter, as well as disturbing inferences which I promise will be resolved in due course without drawing it out.

Chapter Thirteen
A Neatly Punched Hole

Alberta Wilds, Canada

Ash is going to be pissed, Miranda told herself in a worried internal voice. She traced an absent-minded pattern over the N7 Hurricane clipped into the weapon-holder beside her. So, so pissed. She even suffered a brief bout of panic when her mind turned to the worst possible reaction Ash could have had in response to the lies in her concise message. I'm not ready for this relationship to be over…not now, or at any stage in the future. Even as the shuttle bucked violently and she slammed her head against the bulkhead beside her, she could think of nothing else.

"Miranda, are you okay?" Liara's question interrupted her train of thought. "You look pale."

"Fine," Miranda replied tersely.

She suddenly felt claustrophobic. The tiny shuttle had no viewing ports, so she closed her eyes instead.

As the shuttle bounced its way across North American airspace, Miranda's thoughts inexplicably wandered to her childhood. Although the period in her life could not remotely be labelled idyllic, she could not deny that Henry Lawson had provided with the best of everything. Her living environment had been carefully designed before her birth to reflect the pinnacle of functionality and pleasing aesthetics. Even so, it had been a prison disguised as a home. Miranda could not remember a time when she did not have tutors. There had been a trio with five doctorates and not an ounce of empathy between them. At the age of five, a combat instructor had been introduced – an ex ICT candidate who would have frightened most children simply by looking at them. Her diet did not deviate from a prescribed nutritional programme. Provided she performed optimally in all aspects of instruction, Miranda had almost everything she asked for. At an early age she learned which requests would be granted and which would be ignored. New clothes, shoes and innovative educational toys were approved. Frivolous gadgets and a puppy were not. While she felt something at the denial of her requests, it was not anger or distress. It was only when she was older, as she caught brief glimpses of other children from the sealed environment of her chauffeured car, that she realised it was envy. Despite everything she had, Miranda had been envious of the children playing in the street with their friends. The topic of envy subsequently arose on numerous occasions with her therapist. The woman's eventual response to her incessant questions was simply that some people were simply born to be better than others, and that was the last of the matter.

Numerous high-ranking officers within Cerberus had been of the same opinion about humanity's role in the Galaxy. Humans were simply destined to play a dominant role on the galactic stage, as evidenced by their dramatic contribution in the brief decades since First Contact. The fact that they had constantly been stymied and treated like children by some of the established races had contributed to a growing sense of discontent within both the Alliance and the civilian government. While Miranda had been aware of its presence, she had not realised the extent to which such viewpoints had infiltrated all levels of society until her discussions with Liara and Hannah Shepard. While she knew it was ridiculous, she could not help but create an analogy with her own situation. Perhaps if she had simply been given the damn puppy, she would not have rebelled so spectacularly.

The facile contemplations were very quickly stifled soon after they arose. This was not the time to lament her shitty childhood. Miranda turned her attention toward double-checking the bindings on her armour. As she stood, the shuttle yet again bucked violently beneath her and she was forced to clutch for the nearest support. There was a loud thump behind her as David Codrington was thrown from the bench on which he had been sleeping. Even though the civilian was clad in his own set of armour, he was decidedly unconvincing as he struggled to haul himself to his feet.

"Christ, mate!" he bellowed toward the cockpit. "You're bloody well doing that on purpose."

Mack turned over his shoulder with barely concealed amusement on his craggy features. "Can't help it that the controls on this thing are more sensitive than my first wife's tits. I did tell you to strap yourself in."

Miranda had to admit that the handling properties of Liara's small shuttle left a lot to be desired. It reacted to even the smallest amounts of turbulence, making the far larger Cerberus shuttles and Alliance Kodiaks feel luxurious in comparison. Still, the craft's limited stealth capabilities more than made up for its poor handling and cramped interior.

As David settled himself back on the bench, he muttered under his breath as he pulled a set of restraints over his bulky frame. Up front in the cockpit, Pericles Macklin was currently withering under the dagger-like glare of Hannah Shepard – probably in response to the comment about his 'first wife's tits.' Although Miranda had done her best not to notice or care, she had been forced to witness Mack's persistent flirting with the Rear-Admiral on several occasions.

Once the shuttle had levelled out, Miranda resumed tightening the bindings on her armour. Although she could comfortably manage each strap on her own, she suddenly felt an uninvited pair of hands adjusting the straps on her back.

"You know, it's not the first set of armour I've ever worn," Miranda commented, unable to keep a trace of annoyance from her voice.

"I know," Liara replied as she made no move to stop her efforts. "But it is difficult to get the ceramic plates on this model to sit comfortably." Her hands moved to Miranda's hips, tugging sharply on the plates to test how snugly they fitted. "And since this set was custom made for me, I should think that a few adjustments are necessary to ensure a correct fit."

Miranda gave up trying to resist Liara's assistance and simply raised and lowered her limbs as bidden.

"It's a nice suit." Miranda felt driven to say something. Even though they were hardly in silence as the shuttle lacked noise dampeners, she found the whole situation awkward. At least the comment made sense. With power recharging nodes and in-built tech armour, it was as though the suit had been tailor-made for her. In fact, each suit worn by their team was top of the line. "All this gear, the shuttle - where did you find the credits for this sort of tech?"

"I have…resources," Liara replied evasively.

"And an N7 Hurricane?" It had been sitting amidst the small arsenal of weapons on-board the shuttle. Miranda had naturally gravitated toward the SMG she had used on Alcyone. "I've only ever seen one, and it was Shepard's."

"It is the same weapon. It was amongst the few of Shepard's possessions that I removed from the Normandy," Liara admitted. She slapped Miranda on the shoulder. "You are good to go."

"But for all your resources, this is the best help you could afford?" Miranda asked as she turned to face Liara. She could not help but cast a glance toward David who had already fallen asleep again. Up ahead in the cockpit, Hannah and Mack were engaged in a heated debate.

"I had not intended to offer you payment for your services, Miranda," Liara said quietly.

Miranda was annoyed that she could not tell whether Liara was being serious or trying to lighten the mood. With the gravity of the mission, she suspected the former. "I don't want to be paid, I'm just quite fond of living," she snapped in reply, her words harsher than she would have liked. Even if my girlfriend dumps me after this is over.

Liara arched an eyebrow. "And how is the formidable Commander Williams?"

"We're not really doing this, are we?" Miranda demanded as she took a seat. At the questioning expression on Liara's face she continued, "Small talk? The last time I tried to have a casual conversation with you, you told me to shut up."

"Not in so many words," Liara murmured politely.

Before Miranda could protest at their awkward proximity, Liara sat down directly beside her. The cramped bench meant that they were jostled against one another each time the shuttle hit turbulence – which was frequently.

"Ash is…fine. Currently intimidating and threatening reporters from every news outlet on Earth, but otherwise fine." She exhaled loudly in a manner that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. "I lied to her about all of this - helping you to find Shepard. So our relationship might not be fine."

Liara had built much of her new life around lies, but she could still sympathise with Miranda. "I am sorry."

"So am I." Miranda shook her head slowly. "Don't misunderstand me though, I am grateful that you requested my help. Shepard is…"

Her voice trailed off as she was unable to think of an appropriate way to finish the sentence. In Liara's presence, anything that she could say would no doubt seem trivial.

The asari did not respond for some time. They sat, not talking, their bodies pressed tightly together. Unlike earlier, Miranda did not feel the need to say anything.

"Even if I had a choice in squadmates for this mission," Liara began. "I would have chosen you."

When Miranda swallowed, her throat felt like sandpaper. "Why?"

"You know why," Liara responded quietly. She deliberately met Miranda's questioning gaze. "It is the same reason that you chose me to search for Shepard's body three years ago."

Although Shepard felt uneasy moving during broad daylight, she knew that she had to put as much distance between herself and the Alliance facility as possible.

For all you know, you could be going in circles…or heading straight back toward that hellhole.

She allowed herself a brief rest – just a moment really – where she propped her back up against a tree and caught her breath. Less than a minute later, she forced herself to move again.

While Shepard was certain that she was not going in circles, it was possible that she was walking straight back into the arms of Dr Stone. She was operating purely on instinct and very little else – no sleep and a continually protesting stomach. There was half a protein bar left in her pocket, but she was determined to hold onto it for as long as possible. The one thing she did have was an over-abundance of water. It had commenced raining around mid-morning and had steadily increased until even the trees overhead provided little protection. While the jacket that Heller had provided was waterproof, her Alliance sweats were soaked through and the unfamiliar boots had turned each foot into one giant blister. Shepard could not remember being so uncomfortable since her days at ICT. Prior to reaching N6, the candidates were frequently dropped in hostile environments - on several occasions with no gear and wearing only civvies. The crucial difference was that failure then would have cost only her place in the programme. Failure here would cost her life.

Although, back then, failure would have felt like dying.

An effort at a wry smile faltered on her face. She had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted the N7 designation. N1 through to N6 had been gruelling, but her confidence had remained intact throughout. It was only with the end in sight that she began to doubt her abilities as a Special Forces operative.

With nothing but ominous grey clouds visible between the gaps in the canopy overhead, it was difficult for Shepard to gauge the time of day. She estimated that it was approaching early evening, but it could just as easily have been mid-afternoon. Twice during the day she had heard the unmistakable sound of a Kodiak drop shuttle. Although both had been some distance from her position, she had not dared move until they had passed. Shepard could only hope that the poor visibility hampered the Alliance's search instruments.

It's probably a good thing that my body heat is virtually non-existent. Shepard knew she'd be dead if that was truly the case, but she was nevertheless chilled to the bone. It was one of the reasons she did not dare rest for more than a minute in case her body temperature dropped even further.

"It's fucking freezing," she muttered aloud.

It was the first time she'd spoken since Liara's presence had left. It was an effort just to force the words between her teeth.

A few moments later Shepard felt as though she had hit a wall. It was as though uttering the three words had sapped the last remnants of her strength. She felt her legs seize up to the point where it was difficult to simply place one foot in front of the other. Although she knew that her body was trying to tell her something, Shepard stubbornly pushed onward. It was only when she heard a third shuttle overheard, that she dropped beneath a fallen tree and lay motionless. Her breath misted into rapid but weak wisps in front of her face as she waited for the sound to pass.

That's not a Kodiak. Shepard was surprised that her mind was still functioning at that level, especially when her eyelids began to grow heavy.

"Shit."

Her own voice jerked her back to wakefulness, but it was only the desperate kind of forced consciousness. You're not stopping until dark, Ev. Another couple of hours and then you can curl up in some cozy little hole. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the remnants of the protein bar. One careful bite was all she allowed herself. As she chewed slowly and deliberately, she tried to summon the energy that would drive her back to her feet. It never came.

"Stay with the shuttle," David growled aloud as he slapped his palm against the console of the offending vehicle. It felt good to give voice to his frustrations. "Stay with the bloody shuttle?"

He knew that Dr T'Soni's instructions had come only out of the best intentions to keep him safe, but that did not improve his mood. David was the first to admit that he was a piss-poor soldier at best.

Mack had set the shuttle down in a tiny clearing fifteen minutes earlier, branches scraping against its sides as he guided the tiny craft into land. The four of them – T'Soni, Hannah Shepard, Mack and the Lawson woman – had set out almost immediately, all guided solely by some sort of instinct that T'Soni seemed to have about Shepard's whereabouts. While he was suited up and ready to go, the asari ordered him to stay behind. Like some sort of liability. While Mack had given him an apologetic shrug, Lawson had merely nodded approvingly at the decision.

Bitch, was David's judgement of the stunningly cold woman.

Desperately needing some fresh air, David extricated himself from the pilot's chair. He dimly remembered being told to remain inside the shuttle, but felt a juvenile thrill of rebellion as he slammed his palm against the door mechanism. A misty, damp scene greeted him as the shuttle door opened. David drew in a deep breath of the heady aroma of pine needles and damp earth.

Smells better than London.

Although Liara's orders were stuck on repeat in his head, the assault rifle in his hands made him feel slightly invincible. The Mattock felt as though it could do some serious damage. On a whim, he tucked the butt of the rifle into his shoulder and peered down the sight lines. A few moments later, he snorted and tucked it back under his arm.

You're like a little boy playing soldier, David chided himself.

As he turned, he lost his footing on the sodden ground. When he tried to arrest his momentum, he pitched forward. It was only when he was sliding through the mud on his idiot arse that he realised that the drop wasn't as harmless as he'd first thought. With his arms flailing wildly, his only accomplishment was to lose hold of his rifle. It was all he could do to keep his grunts and squeals of fright to a minimum.

Several sudden, terrifying vertical drops later, David finally came to a halt only when his armoured body met a rock that it could not bounce over. Decently winded, he lay on his back with the insistent rain pattering a mocking beat on his flushed cheeks.

"I should have stayed with the shuttle," he groaned as he picked himself up.

Feeling nothing other than humiliation, David hoped that he could follow the path his bulk had carved through the undergrowth. As he turned to regard the cliff he'd tumbled over, he knew that there was no way in hell he could hope to climb it. I fell down that?

"Freeze!" a cold, harsh voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "Move and I blow your fucking brains out!"

"I-I'm not moving." David instinctively lifted his hands above his head. He could tell very little about the person other than that they were female and they had not made a sound approaching him.

"Slowly take out your weapons and drop them on the ground."

With the Mattock lost during his fall, David was completely unarmed. He didn't even have a paltry knife tucked into his boot. "Um…I haven't got any."

"What the hell…" The woman's voice trailed off in what David thought to be disappointment. When she continued, the strength in her voice had faded. "Keep your hands in the air and turn around…slowly."

With his heart feeling as if it was in his throat as opposed to his chest, David made deliberately careful movements. At any moment, he expected to hear the sudden bark of a gun that would pre-empt his life ending. There was nothing other than that of his own panicked breathing and raindrops pinging against his armour. When he turned fully, his jaw dropped. David had expected to find an entire squad of trigger-happy Alliance soldiers. He found one lone woman. Her dark, wet hair was plastered to a deathly pale face with a nasty contusion on her forehead. Most of her body was concealed beneath a bulky jacket save for her legs which were clad in ripped, stained jogging trousers.

David's hands began to drift downwards - not because she wasn't a threat, but because he recognised her. "C-Commander Shepard?"

"Used to be," she replied in a now tremulous voice. David could see her blue-tinged lips quivering as a result of the cold. "These days…it's just Shepard. Who the hell are you?"

"David Codrington, I'm here to rescue you." It sounded ridiculous even as he said it. You're not here to rescue her, you dolt! "I'm here with-"

The otherwise eerie peace within the ravine was suddenly torn apart by fire and light. David was staring at Shepard as she threw herself forward and to the ground. When he tried to move toward her, he simply fell forward onto his knees. When he glanced down at his chest plate, he saw several large tears in the ceramic plating. The trail of red leaking out of each was his own blood.

"Oh," he whispered as he toppled forward.

Seconds later hands were grabbing at his body, turning him over. David found himself staring up at Shepard, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

"Please tell me you've got some medigel, David?" she asked, fumbling at the straps to his armour.

He shook his head weakly. Another item forgotten. A soldier would have medigel – but he was no soldier. "You need to leave," he protested, trying to push her away with a feeble shove.

It was Shepard's turn to shake her head. Instead she propped him up on her lap to ease his laboured breathing without realising that she was mirroring the exact position they'd been in several weeks earlier.

The tunnel. When comprehension eventually dawned, Shepard let out a sharp sob. She recognised David's face as the one she had seen in the darkness. "I know you," she whispered. "You're the one that found me."

David smiled with red stained teeth. "I told her...I did something right. I told her…"

Although his eyes were still open and staring up at her, Shepard knew that the man was dead. He was little more than a stranger, and yet she felt as though she had lost a friend. A part of her knew that she had to run, but there was nowhere to go. Not now that the Alliance was this close.

When they came less than half a minute later, they had to prise her away from David's corpse – which they did without an iota of compassion. Two soldiers dragged her backwards and one clubbed her over the head with the butt of his rifle. Shepard managed only a weak cry in response. When the first boot thudded into her gut, she doubled over in an effort to protect herself against subsequent blows.

"That's enough!"

Even half-conscious, Shepard recognised the female voice instantly. It was the voice that had haunted what little sleep she had managed to snatch over the past few days. Dr Naomi Stone. Shepard couldn't see her through the hazy veil that shrouded her vision, but she could easily imagine the gloating smile on the woman's face.

"Lieutenant, find out where the hell he came from," Stone ordered, referring to David. "If he's got friends, find them and kill them. You two, help me get Shepard back to the shuttle."

Shepard was aware that Stone was kneeling in the dirt beside her head. "Thought you wanted me dead?"

"Trust me, I do, Evan," Stone replied – her pleasure evident in her voice. "But only after I've finished with you."

With every step, Liara was aware of Shepard's presence. It was almost as though her lover hovered just at the edge of her vision. Traces of Shepard's scent lingered beneath her nostrils, but if she tried to drink it in with a deep breath it cruelly disappeared. Through the HUD display within her helmet, all Liara could make out was an endless sea of trees. Their uppermost reaches were blanketed in a thick mist that echoed her mood. She turned her head slightly and briefly caught sight of the dark shape of Miranda Lawson gliding across the landscape. The ex-Cerberus operative was wearing a helmet with a tinted visor, revealing nothing of herself that could jeopardise her Alliance career. Mack and Hannah Shepard were some distance behind – the mercenary keeping close to the Rear Admiral.

As Shepard remained tantalisingly close but brutally out of reach, Liara began to feel a sense of dread stirring in her gut. Her resolute assurances to the rest of the squad had made it seem like physically finding her would be a formality. Hannah Shepard had guided them within several miles of the Alliance facility, and she had picked out an LZ that felt right. Now, with her feet on the ground, it was an entirely different game.

As every minute passed, Liara was drawn closer to the point where she would have to admit to her squadmates that she was wrong. They would have no means to find Evan other than to wander aimlessly and run the risk of falling foul of the Alliance.

Is that not what you are doing now? she asked herself. Wandering aimlessly?

Liara exhaled harshly, her breath momentarily misting on the inside of her visor before it faded. She could feel Evan. Although the emotions were clouded, she could sense enough to know that her bondmate's mind was ridden with fear and self-doubt. We're both lost, she thought in despair.

The break through eventually came not as a result of her bond with Evan, but with the gunshots. A short, sharp spread from an assault rifle drove her briefly into a defensive crouch. To her right she saw Miranda make several concise signals indicating the direction and possible distance. Although her rational mind knew that she had to approach the source with caution, the flash of pain that erupted like a starburst inside her mind drove such thinking away almost instantly. Liara started running, continuing even after she heard Miranda's plea for her to stop. When she eventually made out the unmistakable figure of an Alliance solider in the distance, she lost her remaining vestiges of control and threw herself into a biotic charge.

Shepard hit the deck of the Kodiak face first. Her first instinct was to pick herself up, but her chilled limbs would not work properly. Even when she felt hands stripping the jacket from her upper body, all she could do was allow herself to be manipulated like a ragdoll. She ended up on her back, staring up at the only other person in the belly of the shuttle – Naomi Stone. In her mind, Shepard saw her fists clenching into white knuckled balls of rage and slamming into Stone's face. The smug expression would instantly be wiped from her face. In reality, all she was able to do was flex her fingers as Stone knelt at her side. With the jacket gone, she was clad in just her sweat-stained t-shirt and trousers. It wasn't long before her entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

"I must admit that bastard Heller was smarter than I gave him credit for." Just the sound of Stone's voice was enough to make Shepard's stomach churn. "I thought he was some bastard who got his rocks off by toying with his patients. Well, turns out he really did have a pair of balls after all…even if he was just another sad, delusional devotee to the cult of Shepard."

As she spoke, Stone had begun to run the tips of her fingers over the hollow at the base of her throat. The touch was deliberately gentle but left Shepard's skin crawling. Without warning, Stone suddenly moved to straddle Shepard's hips. She cried out as her weakened body protested at the additional weight. Stone laughed and wrapped her slender fingers around Shepard's throat.

"You know what you are, Evan?" Stone asked quietly as she squeezed with ever increasing intensity. "You are a fraud."

The psychopathic bitch's words made absolutely no sense. Had she been able to speak, Shepard would have said that she had never claimed to be anything other than a simple soldier. What other people chose to believe about her was their own business. She had asked for nothing since fate had propelled her aboard the Normandy and into the path of that first Prothean beacon on Eden Prime.

All she had done, every step of the way, was her job.

"I know you don't remember our night together on the Citadel," Stone continued in a monotone. "Well I remember that night. I remember every detail in crystal clarity. The way you stripped my clothes off – you wanted me so badly that I couldn't help but be flattered at first. This hot-as-hell marine actually wanted me. Who wouldn't be flattered? Then you threw me on the bed and pressed me down with your body weight." Stone leaned forward. "Much like this. Am I too heavy, Evan? Can you breathe? Well I panicked suddenly and asked you to stop. You acted as though you didn't hear me. Maybe you didn't…but that doesn't change anything," Stone whispered. She laughed pitifully. "All that matters is that I asked you to stop, Evan Shepard, and you didn't. You. Fucking. Didn't."

"Nnn…"

I asked you to stop. Shepard needed to refute the allegation. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to focus, to remember. Between the drugs and her own faulty memory, that night on the Citadel was lost beyond her reach. Her damned voice wouldn't even work as she desperately wanted to explain to Stone that she had never used a woman like that. She was incapable of hurting someone in such a cruel and unforgivable manner. I wouldn't…

"I'm not hearing much of an explanation from you," Stone said in a cold voice as she leaned backwards, taking the weight from Shepard's chest. "No protestations of innocence? Could it be because you know you're guilty?" Shepard could not lift her head and she could no longer see Stone. Her gut churned as the other woman continued, "I know I should have gone straight to C-sec but I was just as drunk as you. I was scared that they would laugh me out of their office. So I held onto my hate for eight years. Have you any idea how much hate can multiply over eight fucking years, Evan?"

What if she's telling the truth? What kind of monster does that make me?

"And to think, after biding my time for eight years I was finally presented with the opportunity to repay you for the humiliation you caused me," Stone continued. "You were literally wheeled into the facility where I worked - helpless in front of me. The fates themselves could not have been kinder. They wanted me to have this moment."

Shepard suddenly felt something pressing against her stomach, biting into her skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Even as it travelled upwards, she could not tell what it was – not until Stone was stripping the remnants of fabric from her upper body and waving the bloody tip of the knife in front of her face. Shepard was so numb that she had not felt it cut into her skin. With any luck, she would be too numb to feel what came after as well.

Stone was grinning. "I wouldn't feel so bad, Evan. At least you won't have to live with the memory of it for eight years-"

At the back of her mind Shepard heard several intimately familiar sounds – gunfire and biotic explosions. They were dimmed almost out of earshot within the cocoon created by the shuttle, but Stone's panicked reaction told her everything she needed to know. The doctor fell backwards, away from Shepard's body and onto her haunches.

"I still have friends." It took a determined effort for the words to leave her lips, but it was her turn to feel smug. "I'm not sure how many of yours will be left after they've met mine."

No sooner had the words left her lips, the sealed door of the shuttle was torn outwards with a brutal wrenching of metal. Both Shepard and Stone cried out at the sudden pain, clamping their hands against their ears in matching movements. While that simple action sapped most of Shepard's strength, she saw Stone scramble away from the door in terror. Although the sight of her curling into a foetal position in abject terror ought to have been a satisfying experience, she felt only a hollow emptiness in the moments before her vision clouded and everything went dark.

"Evan!"

The sound of her own name dragged her out of a comfortable sleep.

"Evan!"

The second-time Shepard recognised the voice. Her absent bondmate had seen fit to return – no doubt to offer paltry words of encouragement before fucking off again.

"Trying t'sleep," she muttered, keeping her eyes resolutely closed. Waking up would only force her to face the fact that she was freezing, in pain, and terrified of what she might have done to Stone.

Everything changed the moment warm fingers touched her cheek. It was the barest contact, more of a caress than a touch, but it sent heat flooding throughout the rest of her body. Her eyes opened and she drew in a grateful breath. The face that had intermittently haunted her waking moments filled her vision. Her sapphire eyes burned with an intensity that was almost frightening, but Shepard was drawn straight into their depths. Her lips parted in amazement when she grasped the reality of the physical contact.

"Liara," Shepard whispered. "You're real, you're here."

The fresh-faced scientist of her memories was gone, replaced by an angel of vengeance clad in black leather glistening with freshly spilled blood.

"Of course I am," Liara replied in a tremulous voice.

Her eyes burned, and yet the adrenaline coursing through her veins would not allow her the relief of tears – even at the sight of her pale, battered lover. Dried blood and matted hair surrounded a contusion on Shepard's forehead. Her upper body was naked, with a thin cut running from navel to sternum. Although Liara very clearly saw relief in her gaze, the underlying trauma was palpable.

A sudden noise behind her drove her to turn, Carnifex in hand, to address a potential threat. It was only Mack – red-hot Mattock in hand, breathing heavily as he leaned against the shuttle's ruined doorway.

"Hey, kid, we've secured the immediate area, but you can bet Aria's arse that they'll be closing in on us in a matter of minutes. Lawson has been hit pretty hard – stubborn bitch is insisting she's fine but she's not," he informed her tersely. "Is Shepard okay? We good to go?"

Liara nodded in reply to both his questions. "I'll need you to help me. Hand me that coat." She bade Mack pass her the discarded coat as he clambered inside the Kodiak. Although she desperately wanted to be the one to carry Shepard out of there, she knew she lacked the strength.

"Miranda's here?" Shepard asked through chattering teeth as Liara carefully wrapped the garment around her torso.

"Yes," Liara replied succinctly. "And your mother-"

"...the fuck!" Shepard hissed.

"-but we can fill you in on the details when this place is behind us. Mack, you've got her – please be careful."

"Stone…did you kill her?" Shepard whispered as she was hoisted into Mack's arms. He lifted her as though he was holding a fragile package.

Guessing that Shepard meant the woman she'd thrown against the Kodiak's bulkhead minutes earlier, Liara shook her head. The blonde was lying in a dazed heap, her faint movements were accompanied by quiet groans. "Not yet," Liara replied, briefing smoothing her hand against Shepard's damp hair. The cold chill to her voice was completely at odds with the tender gesture.

"You can't kill her." Shepard tried to shake her head to emphasise her words. Not after what I did to her.

Although Liara had seen very little, finding Shepard half-naked and half-conscious had been more than enough to elicit a furious outburst. Her concern for her bondmate meant that the initial attack against the woman had been the only one. "Evan-"

"Liara!" There was a steel edge to Shepard's voice. Liara looked down to find a stark white hand wrapped around her forearm. The gasp on her lips was cut short beneath a withering glare. "Promise me!"

It was all Liara could do to offer a mute nod in response. Shepard held on for a few more seconds before releasing her hold. Mack whisked her out of the shuttle and back out into the rain without a further word. Liara followed, her brisk gaze took in the chaos that littered the forest floor surrounding the Alliance Kodiak. The bodies of dead marines lay as if they had simply been picked up and thrown by some colossal hand. Even the steadily falling rain was not enough to rinse the massive amounts of blood from the soil. Hannah Shepard was trying to help Miranda, even as the other woman was obviously protesting that she was fine. Her blood-soaked right arm hung limply at her side. The dark visor of her helmet masked that pain that had to be registering on her face. Eventually Miranda gave up struggling and accepted a hand around her waist.

Although Liara was all too aware that Alliance forces would be closing in on their position, she allowed herself a moment to simply absorb what her squad had accomplished. Evan is alive and safe. She needed to repeat the thought several times before she could accept the truth. Everything they had both suffered throughout the previous seven months was almost over.

Almost, but not quite.

Liara heard another weak groan from within the shuttle. In the wake of her promise to Evan, she could not possibly keep the promise she had made to herself. The knowledge of what she would do to her bondmate's captors had sustained her, fuelled the anger that raged in her gut, and she was unable to let it go so easily. Her Carnifex was holstered at her side, unused as she ripped her way biotically through Alliance forces. Barely a second passed between the palm of her hand pressing against the grip and the moment she fired. The blonde woman slumped to the ground, a neatly punched hole in the centre of her forehead, her blood and brain matter glistening on the bulkhead behind her. Liara felt nothing in response, not even a dull sense of satisfaction, but it would have to be enough.

Shepard drifted in and out of consciousness with the motion of being carried. Each time she woke, her reaction was slightly different. At one stage, she was too tired to give a damn about anything, wanting only to escape back into the calming fog of sleep. When she woke again she panicked, believing that she had been recaptured. The only face she saw was that of a weathered stranger. The reassuring grin he offered in response to her distress was so rakish that she knew immediately she was safe. Her eyelids felt as though they were tethered to weights drawing them closed and darkness descended yet again.

She awoke with a start. Panic arose again but Liara was right there. Shepard tried to manage a grin of her own, but her plan faltered when she could not make her lips do anything other than twitch slightly. Liara reached out and smoothed a clump of hair from her forehead. Shepard fought to stay awake this time. She did not want to have to stop staring at her bondmate. Beneath the relief and concern on Liara's weary features, Shepard thought she could see traces of something else. It remained elusive. Liara was too adept at masking her emotions.

"We are almost at the shuttle," Liara offered quietly.

What happens then? Shepard couldn't give actual voice to the question, but it nevertheless lingered. Tendrils of doubt and self-loathing tempered the rescue and the otherwise overwhelming joy of seeing Liara again. It's all over? We start the rest of our lives together with me as a hunted fugitive and guilty of doing…that to someone. She could not even bring herself to think it.

The fact that the shuttle door had been left open caused alarm that even Shepard could pick up on. Mack began calling out for David even as Liara, more sensibly, tried to contact him via his omni-tool.

"He's dead…he died," Shepard informed them in a weak voice. "He found me…the Alliance found us both."

Her strength would not allow a more in-depth explanation, not even after she watched the obvious anguish pass across Liara's face. It was gone a split second later, buried by the need to act quickly. Shepard regretted the fact that the man's body would have to remain where he had fallen. It was like leaving Kasumi alone in the Collector vessel all over again.

Mack gently placed her in the shuttle's interior, settling her against one of the bulkheads before strapping her in. She nodded to indicate she was fine. It felt strange to be a mere observer as the rest of the squad moved purposefully around her. Usually she was the one orchestrating everything. Mack moved to the cockpit to fire up the shuttle, while Liara and Hannah helped Miranda on board. Shepard resolutely ignored each of her mother's pained glances in her direction, instead concentrating on her wounded friend.

"We are good to go, Mack!" Liara slapped the back of the pilot's chair moments after slamming the shuttle door closed. "Get us the hell out of here." The asari then strapped herself into the co-pilot's chair following an anxious glance behind her to check that her bondmate was secure in her seat.

"Can someone take my fucking helmet off?" Miranda demanded as she slumped into the seat opposite Shepard. "I can't breathe in this thing."

The shuttle began a rapid ascent with Mack not caring how much of the external paintwork he ruined. Hannah hunkered down next to Miranda to help with the helmet. A decidedly clammy, chalk white face was revealed a few moments later. Her raven hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat.

"For fuck's sake, don't touch my arm!" Miranda snapped as the older woman tried to help her. "Just get me a kit and I'll stabilise it myself."

It was only when Hannah put some distance between herself and Miranda's snarling face that Shepard could clearly see her arm. She didn't need a medical degree to tell that the arm was broken. She could clearly see bone protruding from the bloody mess.

"Slapping gel on that…not going to help," Shepard observed helpfully. Her voice was barely audible over the shuttle's protesting engines.

Miranda managed only a pained grimace in response. "Speak for yourself, Shepard. In your case, a bag over your head might do it."

"Ouch."

"I'm glad you're safe," Miranda added, before her grimace twisted even further. "Where the fuck is the medkit?"

As Miranda accepted the medical kit from Hannah with her good arm and turned her attention to relieving her own pain, Shepard was forced instead to focus on her mother. As Hannah strapped herself into the seat next to Miranda, she glanced across with the same hopeful, almost desperate expression on her face. It served no other purpose than to make Shepard feel sick to her stomach at the memory of the woman helping the Alliance. Regardless of her subsequent actions, nothing could change the fact that she had the power to spare her the pain of the past few weeks.

Hannah cleared her throat. "Evie…sweetie-"

"I've got nothing to say to you, Hannah," Shepard interrupted coldly. She had no patience for anything the woman had to say. Not only was she exhausted, her mind was actively trying to process too much information. She thought about David Codrington – the civilian who had given his life to save hers. Although she didn't want to think about Naomi Stone, those thoughts came unbidden regardless. All Shepard wanted to do was fall into a deep, hopefully dreamless, sleep.

Her mother was determined to be heard. "Please, hear me out-"

"Fuck off!" Shepard snarled, momentarily leaning as far forward as her harness allowed. She found a measure of strength in her anger. "You're not my fucking mother so stop trying to pretend you are."

With her heart hammering in her chest, she collapsed back into the seat. She was gasping in deep lungfuls of air when Liara's frame cast a shadow over her. The asari dropped down onto her knees in front of her bondmate, concern writ plainly on her features as she grasped both of Shepard's hands in her own. Suddenly conscious that Liara was holding onto her artificial hand, Shepard tried to tug it free. Liara refused to be budged, instead tightening her grip.

"Don't," Shepard protested. "How can you stand to touch that thing? It's not my fucking hand."

"It is a part of you," Liara replied simply.

"Let it go!"

"You need to calm down, Evan," Liara said, pressing the crystalline fingers fiercely against her lips for a long moment. Retaining her grip on the artificial hand, she revealed a hypospray tucked into the palm of her other hand. Shepard did not protest as she felt it press against the almost numb flesh of her neck. "Goddess, after everything you've been through…"

Shepard's eyelids lowered as Liara's voice trailed off. As much as she wanted to stare at Liara every waking moment for the rest of her life, the demons at the back of her mind would not allow her to be grateful for anything that had happened. She felt the fast-acting drugs take over.

All that matters is that I asked you to stop, Evan Shepard, and you didn't. You. Fucking. Didn't.

"I'm calm…I promise," Shepard murmured. "Help Miranda."

"I intend to," Liara assured her. "But you need to trust me when I say that you're safe."

"I need to tell you…" Tell you…what exactly. That I hurt someone?

"Whatever it is, it can wait." Liara stood and pressed her lips against Shepard's dirty forehead. "I love you, Evan. I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

Shepard replied in words that were barely formed and inaudible, but Liara picked up on the sentiment behind them all the same. She stood and watched patiently for a few moments as her lover's breathing evened out and she rapidly slipped into unconsciousness. It was only when she was certain that Shepard was asleep that she allowed herself to fall into the seat next to her. The weight she had been struggling under for several days suddenly seemed to be pressing down, crushing her until it became difficult to breathe. Between the swelling sobs and her gasps for air, the sounds that emerged from her mouth were not pretty.

"Hey," Miranda called out, pausing in her self-treatment. "She's safe. You did it."

Liara stared at the raven-haired woman through a watery gaze. She then turned to regard Shepard. The woman softly snoring beside her seemed barely recognisable as the confidant, strong marine she had fallen in love with almost four years earlier. Even as she slept her entire body twitched fitfully as though she was still living her captivity through her nightmares. Despite her own exhaustion, Liara dashed her hand across her eyes and sniffed nosily before she rose to her feet. She paused in front of her lover. Regardless of how much of her Evan was left inside that battered shell, she had not come this far only to lose her again. She bent at the waist and deposited a kiss on each of Shepard's eyelids. As she straightened, the sleeping woman uttered a quiet sigh and her tense limbs slackened.

Liara moved the few steps to kneel in front of Miranda, taking the medical kit from the woman's trembling hand and setting it on the floor beside her. Miranda looked as though she was on the brink of passing out.

"Yes, but at what cost?" Liara asked, as much to alleviate her own fears as to keep Miranda talking. She selected the strongest painkilling meds in the kit.

Miranda's expression was torn between a frown and a grimace, even after Liara injected the spray into her neck. "What do you mean?"

"After all that we have been through separately, will we still work?" Liara cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. "What if this has changed us beyond reparation?"

With a slight cry escaping her lips as Liara started to put a stabilising splint on her arm, Miranda closed her eyes and drew in shallow, rapid breaths.

"Liara, my arm hurts like hell, David is dead and Hannah has thrown away her career…so the two of you had better fucking work!"

Miranda's breathing gradually evened out as the painkillers finally kicked in. She half-opened her eyes and smiled at Liara in blissful, drugged relief.

"Sorry, that was the pain talking. In all seriousness, you two will be fine. You're like…star-crossed lovers, meant to be together no matter what. Trust me, you're going to live happily ever after with gorgeous blue children…and a puppy. Promise me you'll get a puppy?"

"And that was the drugs talking," Liara observed pointedly. Miranda's enthusiasm – real or enforced – did banish her doubts. When she looked over her shoulder at Evan again, a relieved smile finally curled the corners of her lips. "We will be fine."