X. Closure

"So what does that mean for us?"

"Well, the Alliance is picking up reports of rogue geth ships still active beyond the Veil. Chances are they're still loyal to Saren and the Reapers. The brass want them cleared out to eliminate risk of further attacks on colonies or alternate means of letting the Reaper forces through from dark space."

"Yeah, but what does that mean for us?"

The commander stepped away from the window and up towards Williams' hospital gurney. Of the two of them, Shepard had gotten the long end of the stick. Somehow, despite having half a space station dropped on her, the spectre had managed to come out of the ordeal with just a simple, closed fracture of her left forearm. After a couple days of treatment she didn't even have to wear a sling. Williams, on the other hand, had needed two surgeries and was still on bedrest with round the clock antibiotics after taking an exploding turian to the face and being unceremoniously nailed to the wall of the Citadel Tower gardens by the blast.

"You've still got another week or so of recovery, chief," said Shepard, "even with Chakwas sneaking you enough medigel to get a fully grown krogan stoned. Not to mention a list of required psych evals about a mile long that we've been putting off since Eden Prime."

"Commander—"

"But," Shepard continued, "after that, you are still assigned to my command, and as the Council has agreed to uphold my spectre status-"

"Seeing as you saved their asses from Sovereign-"

"-and since the Alliance hasn't revoked my authority to allow aliens to serve onboard the Normandy," her eyes flicked over to where Dr. T'Soni sat in the far corner of the tiny hospital room, trying - with a terrible poker face - not to look like she was eavesdropping as she read from a datapad. "Not to mention Anderson's new position on the Council, there'd be no reason why anyone who wanted to stay onboard couldn't continue to serve.

"I'm not so sure about Wrex or Tali," she mused, "But something tells me I should start speaking with our requisitions officer about getting some additional amenities brought onboard that might service an asari biotic and a turian tech expert."

She passed Liara, who at that point had abandoned the pretense of having not been listening, and patted her lightly on the shoulder as she exited the room. They shared a brief glance, and Williams noticed the commander smile. It was a kind smile, even if it did look a little more worn around the edges than it used to.

"So…" Williams said once they were alone, propping herself up as high as the thin hospital pillows would allow.

"So…" Liara mirrored. She set down her tablet and turned to face the gunnery chief as she neatly folded her hands in her lap.

"You're gonna go back to Ilos, aren't you?" Ashley blurted before she could stop herself.

Liara paused for a beat and stared blankly.

"Yes," she replied, and looked for a moment as though that answer had surprised even her.

Sighing, Williams gave a resigned nod. She looked down at her hands. "Yeah. I guess a two month fling can't really compare with a fifty year long love affair." Can hardly even call it a fling, she amended, mentally, Just a kiss, really.

"It is not that," Liara replied, and reached out to place a hand against the side of the chief's bed. "But the facility on Ilos was barely operational when we arrived chasing Saren. There is a very good possibility that it may already be unsalvageable. But if there is any chance that something might still be learned from Vigil-"

"I get it, doc."

"And it is not just my own fascination with the protheans compelling the decision. Unlocking the technology behind the mass relays, even just the details of the one-way prototype the researchers had constructed, could speed the galactic community light years ahead of our current scientific understanding. Not to mention with the Reaper threat imminent, any further understanding of their technology would be-"

"Doc!" Ashley said, reaching out to take Liara's hand in hers to pause her ramblings. "It's okay, really. I get it. You have to do this."

She stilled, and her eyes searched the marine's for signs of insincerity. "You do?"

"Yeah. I do."

Liara settled for a moment. Her eyes fell to the place between them where their hands gently intertwined. When she spoke again, it was far softer. "But… when I get back…"

"T'Soni, you and I both know anything you unearth on Ilos will probably take you decades to study."

"You may be correct," the archeologist admitted, hesitantly, "However, I see no reason why once the data is collected I could not review it while also serving aboard the Normandy." Slowly, her eyes pick up from beneath hooded lids. "And I happen to know of a spectre who may have a vested interest in seeing me to my destination safely. Possibly one even willing to lend a small complement of her crew towards protecting the excavation team. Perhaps in return for privileged access to any information I should recover."

"You asked Shepard?"

She shook her head. "Not in so many words. But I did mention putting together a proposal to bring before the Council for a joint-species expedition to Ilos, and mentioned that having her support attached could be beneficial in expediting that process. She seemed amenable to the idea."

"That's a long shot, T'Soni, and you know it."

"No longer than using vague visions from a dead race to chase a rogue spectre halfway across the galaxy."

"Point taken." She laughed at the benign insanity of it all. To think she might really be rented out by her commanding officer like a girl in one of those trashy vids she used to catch her sister watching…

"What?" Liara asked her. Williams turned and watched the way the light from the open window hit her eyes. They blazed as bright and blue as a flame, glinting as the doctor scrunched up her nose at her.

"You really want to try this? You and me, I mean?"

"Yes," she answered, and Ashley felt as her hand was given a light squeeze. "I do."

They sat together and watched out the large set of double-hung windows as cars passed on the skyway beyond the hospital deck. Reconstruction efforts were already well underway, financed in part by a wealthy and reclusive private investor who had declined all requests for interview and requested their name be kept out of the media. Local rumor implied the philanthropist was human, with possible Alliance ties, but skeptics argued that particular piece of gossip was nothing more than pro-human propaganda meant to drive up enlistment rates following the heavy casualties suffered by the Arcturus fleet in the retaking of the Citadel.

Workers were scattered across the walkways of the Presidium, trading tools and equipment and on occasion even a smile as they worked tirelessly to piece back together their storefronts and homes as well as the briefly shattered fragments of their happy, normal lives. Not a hand, claw, or tentacle wasn't hard at work, and an impromptu street market had sprung up nearly overnight. All along the shimmering pools that danced with the light that flooded in from the open and still badly-damaged Citadel arms, were vendors setup on folding tables, trading wares and ethnic goods or food and drink from their homeworlds. Performers gathered in the squares and entertained families and children, who chased each other through shallow fountains and artificial foliage as their parents worked, and C-Sec officers handed out water to the volunteers and military personnel.

Artificial sunlight poured through the glass and bathed the pair each in a comfortable warmth as they silently looked on at the joys and frivolities of the lives below. And while in her heart Ashley knew that nothing gold could stay, in that moment there was relative peace and hope and a soft hand pressed into hers.

And that, for now, was enough.