The day had been long, its effects beginning to extract a toll payable only with marrow deep exhaustion. Shepard resisted it as ferociously as she fought everything. She could not rest—would not allow herself a moment of peace while issues lingered.
They had been here before: Liara laid out on a bed in the medbay; Shepard standing against the furthest wall of the mess hall with her arms folded; her stomach rotten. Absently, she raised a hand to her cheek. The flesh still felt swollen and hot, evidence that Liara had not held back. Shepard had heard the asari's statement loud and clear—she was well versed in the language of anger.
There was no doubt in her mind that Liara had been angry—a strange sort of relieved ire that was evident even as the asari's soft lips had pressed to her cheeks. Shepard could not explain that she had panicked, because until recently she could count on her fingers how many times that had happened in her lifetime. She was unaccustomed to the terrifying lack of control she'd had over the situation.
She didn't know how, but she had heard Tali's small voice whisper an agonized apology. Shepard had instinctively known what the girl had been about to do. Her entire body had gone numb and she experienced sudden lightheadedness. Tali, her beautiful, extraordinarily pale face unmasked for the first time, had spread her arms and stepped back. Every thought had left the commander as her gaze locked on Tali's remarkable, oval-shaped, aquamarine eyes, just before the quarian's head tilted back and she willingly gave herself to the chasm. In that brief moment, Tali's despair had seemed to morph into relief.
Shepard recalled a similar smile on Aislyn's face as the girl took her last breath—relief that her suffering had finally ended.
There hadn't been time; she'd had a split second to form a contingency plan, nothing more—screaming Liara's name was all she had been able to manage. She could see, feel, nothing beyond Tali's survival. And she had followed the girl, knowing that the quarian's reaction had been a result of her actions. She hadn't trusted Tali with her plans to trick the quarians and the geth into cooperating. She had barely taken the time to detail her idea to Liara before expecting her assistance, and the consequences of her actions—those increasingly devastating expectations—were beginning to weigh too heavily.
Footsteps interrupted the silence of the mess hall and Shepard's uncomfortably attempted introspection. Looking up, Shepard saw that Traynor had entered. The young specialist greeted her with a curt nod, her eyes flashing like struck flint. It was the forced sort of cordiality that most of the crew afforded her.
Samantha projected it like blame.
Shepard ignored the young woman, who had busied herself by making a cup of tea, and pushed away from the wall. She headed across the mess to stand outside the medbay. When Chakwas noticed her, she spoke quickly to one of the nurses, waving a hand in Shepard's direction, before emerging.
"Report," Shepard said, sounding more harsh and distant than she intended.
Chakwas regarded her briefly. Shepard had never been very good at reading the older woman, unable to ascertain what she might be thinking from her carefully schooled facial expressions and body language. Through the haze of fatigue an unusual thought surfaced: she wondered, with unexpected self-consciousness, how the doctor perceived her.
"Tali hasn't been harbouring suicidal thoughts, Commander," Chakwas began, turning away from Shepard to peer into the medbay, where Tali sat on a bed, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them. "She was reacting to the potential xenocide of her species, believing you had sanctioned it. While I can't say I agree with her actions, I don't necessarily blame her either. I think we both know that war often has devastating psychological effects."
Shepard nodded solemnly.
"In this case, she's not very happy at the idea of having been deceived given the extremes it pushed her to. I think in the long run that's going to cause more problems than anything else."
"Is she fit for duty?"
"If you can convince her to stay with the Normandy," Chakwas paused, glancing sideways at Shepard. The doctor's tone was without accusation, but conveyed the veiled suggestion to attempt reconciliation, if Shepard cared to heed it. "I'd say yes."
The commander nodded again. "Good. Have any problems arisen from removing her mask?"
"Several minor infections, but nothing we can't take care with a round of antibiotics."
"And Liara?"
Chakwas took a noticeably deeper breath. "She's awake now," she replied. "I've never heard of a biotic doing what she reportedly did and surviving. I would not recommend asking her to repeat such a feat."
"Understood," Shepard said. Her voice was flat and cold, but some of her tension eased.
"Surprisingly, she's merely dehydrated and suffering from extreme exhaustion. I've prescribed a high carbohydrate diet with lots of electrolyte enhanced fluids, as well as plenty of rest. She's damned lucky," Chakwas said, then glanced away. "And frighteningly powerful, it would seem."
You have no idea, Shepard thought, but she said, "Can I talk to them?"
Chakwas nodded and Shepard began to move away, but the doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "What about you, Commander?"
Shepard looked up, momentarily confused. "I'm fine," she answered when she realized the doctor was expressing concern for her well-being. "Focus on the crew." The older woman crossed her arms and leveled Shepard with a stern expression, but the commander would not be cowed. "Not now."
Because Chakwas also knew the futility of arguing with Shepard, she wisely stepped back and allowed the commander to pass.
Both duty nurses looked up as Shepard entered the ship's medical facility. She hiked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating that they should step out for a moment. After they had gone, she approached Tali. She could feel Liara's eyes following her from across the room and a guilty heat rose up the back of her neck.
"Chakwas says you'll be fine with a round of antibiotics," she told the quarian.
Tali's posture had changed the moment Shepard entered the room, her hands were now clenched into tight fists and she leaned forward on the bed, no longer hugging her knees. She remained motionless, not bothering to acknowledge what Shepard had said.
"Look, I am sorry for how things played out down there, but I have to focus on the end game, Tali, you know that." Even as she said it, she knew how harsh it sounded. "This is about the entire galaxy… we need the geth… your people…" she trailed off. She wondered if it was too fresh for both of them.
She realized it was when the little quarian unclenched her fists only to ball them up again. "Not everyone is expendable," Tali hissed bitterly, unknowingly echoed words Liara had once spoken. Tali had never admonished her before, and she knew that if they continued with the conversation, there would be irreparable damage because Shepard felt her temper rising to match.
"Fine," she snapped, struggling to contain her resentment. She dramatically indicated the exit. "You can go. Let me know if you're gonna stick around, or if you want to return to the fleet."
Tali moved slowly off the bed and stalked to the exit. She didn't say anything as the door slid open and she stepped through it. Shepard watched her retreat, body thrumming with frustration.
"Give her time," she heard Liara say softly.
"I haven't got the fucking time," she muttered, too quietly for Liara to hear.
Struggling through exhaustion to curb her irritation, Shepard made her way to the asari's side. Liara had moved the bed into a sitting position and was looking at her with wide, soulful eyes that peeked out in distinct contrast to the mosaic of bruises. As soon as the commander was near enough, Liara reached out, but stopped short of touching Shepard's cheek. Her hand hovered for a moment before she slowly dropped it to rest on her stomach.
Shepard bowed her head, wishing she could close her eyes to block out the contusions—evidence of Liara's devotion. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly very dry. She managed a hushed "Thank you."
"Always," Liara said.
"I didn't think," Shepard admitted.
Liara lightly touched Shepard's forearm, her lips quirking into an understanding smile. "I know."
"I'm sorry."
"It is fine."
"No," Shepard replied. Her eyes began to sting. She blinked a few times, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, Liara. It's not fine. This—us—it's not." Her words ground to a halt. She took a deep, bracing breath. "It's not going to work. Your… loyalty to me is unhealthy. My expectations will kill you."
Liara's grip tightened. "Shepard, we have discussed this," she replied, a tremor of panic lacing her words.
"I don't want you to die for me, Liara." She forced her voice to sound cold, jerking her arm out of the asari's grasp. She took several steps away, and stood with her back to Liara. "I have to make decisions that are in everyone's best interests. This is one of those moments."
"You do not know what you are saying," Liara said, the anguish bleeding thoroughly into her tone. Shepard heard Liara shift on the bed and turned around to see her struggling to swing her legs over the side. The asari surged to her feet, but she was unsteady and had to lean back against the bed for support. The paper-thin hospital gown that Chakwas had dressed her in added to the indignity she suffered.
"It's… better this way. You'll be safer," Shepard mumbled. She couldn't meet Liara's gaze, unable to bear her hurt.
"Please… do not do this, Muireall."
There was almost a warning edge to Liara's words. Regardless, Shepard had already made her decision. Liara had been right to slap her—Shepard was as reckless with other people's lives as she was with her own. She didn't want Liara to become a casualty as well.
"This will be the last time I hurt you," Shepard said. She turned away again, cowardice directing her actions. She heard a tiny, tormented sob accompany the rustle of the sheets as Liara dropped back onto the bed.
"I love you," she whispered so quietly she could almost convince herself that she had not spoken.
The only sound she heard in response was the hiss of the door as she exited.
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