Author's Note: A great deal of gratitude to all who have read and reviewed, followed, and favorited this story thus far. It gladdens my heart immensely and makes me want to continue writing and telling this story. But, I also wanted to mention the significance of this day. Veteran's Day, in my country. Armistice Day, in others. I personally want to thank all of those who have served their countries, donned a uniform and promised their lives. It is not easy work. It is often not pleasant work. It can leave wounds, in the body, soul, and psyche. And those who would take that oath and stand before others in order to protect them deserve the highest praise, respect, and thanks. So, if any of you reading have served, are serving, or even have family members in the military, thank you for what you do. I wish you peace, I wish you blessings, and I wish you healing. Your sacrifices are not forgotten. They are not unknown. And they are appreciated.

Blessings,

~Raven Sinead


Liara

"This one was worse than the others, wasn't it?" Zhira asked.

I shuddered beneath the covers, wishing I could see the stars beyond the gleaming lights of Illium. But I could not. All that shone through the windows was the harsh, artificial brilliance that cast the shadows. Shadows I wanted to swallow me whole. Anonymity that I craved.

Sweat poured down my face and burned in my eyes. Zhira grabbed a washcloth from the nightstand and wiped the moisture from my brow.

"Liara?" she asked, her voice rough with sleeplessness.

I felt guilty. My screams must have awakened her. They had awakened me. The sound of raw anguish spilling into the room had pulled me from slumber and I could not find the strength to close my eyes again.

"Liara." Zhira's voice grew harder, laced with worry.

She worries over me, I attempted conscious thought. I should answer. I don't know how…not after what I just saw. Oh Goddess…please help me.

"I'm not…I'm not all right." I whispered at last, a ragged confession that has always been the truth.

This time, however, it is a truth that I have spoken. I have given it words. I had taken its power by stating it, and my heart rate began to calm as breathing became easier. The tightness in my chest eased and my taut muscles unclenched.

Zhira's hand caressed my cheek before coming to rest on my brow. Her lips pursed in concentration.

"No fever." she told me. "Definitely a good sign. The drugs are finally getting out of your system all together."

"Then why do the dreams not cease?" I asked. "I do not think I can keep seeing what I see, Zhira. It makes me wake up craving the needle. I need the euphoria…because, right now, I don't think I'll be all right ever again and I want to be. I very much want to be...well again."

"What do you dream about?" she asked.

I shook my head, the pain still too raw, the wounds still too fresh. The dreams did not allow them to heal. They peeled off the scabs and dug their claws into the wounds, ripping away the clotted blood and awakening the nerves to feel the horror all over again. My psyche was a battlefield. I could not surrender and I could not stop pressing the attack. I felt stuck.

"I cannot…I cannot tell you that." I breathed.

I wait for her to sigh and relent, to give me the space that she always has after moments and nights like this. Zhira possesses a rough kindness, but it is still complete. It is still more compassion than I have known since Shepard's death. She will say something gentle, tell me to rest, and return to her room, as she has done every time before.

"I think you need to, Liara." she replied, shocking me. "I think it's time you show me what happened to you."

"No." I refused, shaking my head.

Zhira's lips thinned and she took me by the shoulders, helping me sit up. I stared down at the comforter, not wanting to meet her eyes, not wanting her to see the inner torment and suffering.

"Look at me, Liara." she urged. "Look at me, and let me tell you something."

If I do this, will you silence and leave me to my pain? It has been a month. You know I will not go back to the drugs. You know that I will fight and resist that temptation. So why do you stay? Why do you ask of me what you do?

I met her amethyst gaze and nearly fell into it. I knew that her words in these moments between us were always honest, but it was another thing entirely to see it in her soul and read it in her gaze.

"What is it you wish to say?" I asked.

"You're ripping me apart." she answered, shocking me. I had not expected those words. "You're getting over the physical parts of this, but I can see the psychological shit tearing you to pieces. And it's hurting me, Liara. It's hurting me because I don't know what to say or what to do because I don't know what's going on inside your mind. I don't know what you're seeing, but I know it's agonizing and I want to help."

I averted my eyes and Zhira cupped my cheek once again and turned my face to hers.

"We're asari, Liara." she stated the obvious. "We have a gift that we forget about so often. We use it for pleasure. We use it to confide history and impart wisdom and experience. But so rarely do we use our gift to ease someone's pain."

I remembered the mission after Edolus. I remembered holding Serena in my arms as she flashed back to the horror that was Akuze. I closed my eyes and saw Serena's…full of silver pain and violent grief. Her confusion as she tried to move her legs and found that they didn't work. I relived her terror and confusion. Karin Chakwas had asked me to go into her mind and sort out the chaos there. I had. And I had emerged from Serena's mind with a deeper understanding of who she was and what she had endured. I had eased her pain with the gift of my species.

"I know words are hard." Zhira pushed. "I know that talking makes you feel vulnerable and that tears can choke you and that sometimes you don't want to face the truth of it in words, because they can be misheard and judged too harshly. I know you're afraid of looking into my eyes and telling me about your ghosts. I get that it's intimate. If it weren't, you wouldn't be suffering so damn much. I can't heal an injury if I can't find a wound, Liara. Please meld with me. Show me what hurts. Bleed your soul clean."

I did not know what to do. My pain was sacred. It was mine. I belonged to it, and let it help define me. Because in that pain I remembered Liara T'Soni, daughter of Matriarch Benezia. The archaeologist and the warrior that she became. I remembered who I was through my suffering, and to lay it bare, to give it to someone else…what if I lost myself entirely? What if I healed? Where would I go in a new life? Who would I be?

"Zhira, I do not think I can."

"I know you can." she urged. "I haven't turned my back on you, Liara T'Soni. And I'm not going to, no matter what happens. Because I can handle your pain. I can help you cope with it. But what I can't do is keep watching you suffer and not know what to do. I can't just let you wake up night after night with all that fear in your eyes. Seeing you in agony hurts me."

Her words reminded me what it is to live. What it is to care about another person so much so that you ache to help them, no matter the personal cost. But I did not know why she wished to do this. I knew why she saved me, why she took enough pity on me to get me free of my addictions…but I did not know why she would be interested in anything beyond that. She owed me nothing. In fact, it was I who was indebted to her. For her kindness. Her care. Her friendship this past month.

"Tell me why, Zhira." I whispered. "Tell me why you are so adamant in this."

Zhira nodded, breathed deep, and took my hand in hers. She turned my palm upwards and began tracing the lines across it with her fingertips.

"Humans used to believe you could read someone's future in the lines of their hands." she told me. "It's fucking nonsense, of course. You can't tell anyone's future from their hands. But you can tell their pasts." she continued tracing the lines in my palm, the various tiny scars from time spent on archaeological digs, a few burns from an overheated pistol. "You've got strong hands, Liara. They know what it is to work. They know what it is to hold something close, bandage a wound, impart comfort and care. I'd hazard a guess that they know what it is to kill."

I nodded, mute.

"But there are scars on them that can't be seen. Claw marks from where something was ripped out of them." My hand began to tremble in hers. "These hands are so hurt they can't hold on to anything anymore. They're full of your pain, cradling your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding in your heart. These hands," the timbre of her voice dropped, "need to hold something again, something that will let them create, heal, and move forward. But they can't do that because they're wounded and full of anguish. So," she took my other hand in hers and held them both, my palms on top of hers, "show me. Let me hold your pain for a little while. This is why. Because I've come to care for you. Because I know we're alike in a lot of ways. Because I know, even if you don't fully realize it yet, that you can trust me. Please realize that. Please show me."

After a long moment of consideration, I looked up. Blue met amethyst and I felt her hands beneath mine. They were empty of judgment, empty of selfishness. They were open, waiting, and strong. They had cared for the needs of my body, and now she asked to minister to the needs of my heart.

It would be so pleasant…to be free of this burden…if only for a moment. Goddess, give me strength. Give me faith and hope. Give me life again. I want to live.

"Zhira T'Aryn." I grasped her hands tighter. "Embrace eternity."