"Echoes of Silence" by The Weeknd

XIX. Critical Mission Failure

(Liara)

Nearly the end of the solar year.

So close to this end.

I had waited these months out, believing that I would get what I wanted in the end. Six months since meeting Shepard, since joining her team aboard the Normandy, and most of that time I had spent waiting for her. At first, hoping she would notice me on an intimate level. After that, hoping she would come back to me more permanently, and without a mere arrangement. During the interim, I spent my time with Shepard's corporeal presence within me, around me, as a fine way of substituting her stark absence with her warmer, if imaginary company at my side. She was still here with me now in the same ways, this feeling somehow growing stronger by the day, far beyond my mere imagination.

I enjoyed being alone, though I was never lonely, because I had Shepard here.

I had found it simple enough to be patient this way, not seeing the miscalculations I had made.

I had underestimated how hard she would fall for Ashley, and how quickly this would happen.

I had mistakenly believed that their initial involvement with each other would burn out soon enough.

I had misinterpreted the durability of Shepard's limits and tolerances in the face of Ashley's many human flaws, judging her likely reactions in too logical a way. Taking the data points from all of Shepard's past relationships, friendships, acquaintances—everything that I could reach from her memories—I had ran the simulations and found that Ashley's behavior would create too much friction and resentment. Even so, Shepard's final breaking point, her absolute limit, was still clear to me. No matter how much they loved each other, I understood with absolute certainty that their relationship would not last after this catastrophic upheaval. The relationship would not continue, though Shepard's feelings would probably remain, depending on the exact situation.

There was no denying that Ashley would one day cross this line as the doomsday scenario.

Among my countless mistakes and more recent recalculations, this single outcome remained clear.

This remained clear, even after I'd had to press the reset button on my bond with Shepard once again, unbeknownst to her, after everything had malfunctioned and remained stuck in a loop. I knew that she had done this on purpose right before Ilos, before our unproductive meeting with the Council. I'd had to restore and rectify this overnight, coming close to fixing things on my own just as Shepard had knocked on my door to check on me. She had provided the final piece when she'd held me again. Her tenderness in that moment had restored things back to normal, helping me to hide my presence away from her and Ashley both. They could not sense me anywhere. They could not know that I was still here.

In stealth, I could once again feel Shepard as normal, and Ashley as well by extension. I thought it best to stop relying on the information there, and to stop 'checking in' with them as often as I had before, in order to appear oblivious. I did not wish to suffer any further system failures or meddling, so to speak.

Though I did not want Shepard to suffer through such heartbreak, I understood that it was only a matter of time before Ashley hurt her far too much. This was the only true way she would return to me, voluntarily, of her own free will. At this point, after so many setbacks and failures, it certainly would have been easier to let all of this go—to stop trying. Yet I had already promised Shepard that I would not give up on her. Giving up on our bond could have had such disastrous effects, after all…

So I continued waiting.

I continued waiting in the long-term for Shepard to make that decision on her own.

I continued waiting in the short-term for her to call me to her private cabin, and for us to have that talk.

In the meantime, I reflected on all of this data: how I had overestimated the wrong emotions.

I had misjudged the lasting effects of Shepard's own feelings for me.

And I had been a fool to believe that Shepard would work to keep our arrangement together, our half-commitment to one another, even with the presence of someone far more compelling. I understood now that this current outcome was inevitable. If I had instead asked Shepard to be in a dedicated relationship with me, I finally saw how that would have turned out: she either would have declined, breaking my heart sooner, or she would have constantly suffered Ashley's many temptations—if not outright giving into her and being unfaithful to me—breaking my heart eventually that way.

Perhaps I knew this at the time when I chose to let Shepard go. When I gave her my non-literal goodbye on her birthday. When I watched her fall in love with another woman, and in such a different way than how she had fallen in love with me without realizing it.

I saw for myself that Ashley was the one Shepard wanted in totality. This was the bold, high-strung, obsessive, outgoing, passionate, unrestrained, and reckless woman of her wildest romantic dreams.

I saw that Shepard only understood this on an intrinsic level: that she primarily needed the stability I provided. Because I would continue to provide it whether we were together or not, whether we were in the same room or not; whether we were in the same plane of time and space or not. Shepard could have her intense and fanatical love affair with someone else without suffering the usual consequences of her resentment and possibly eroding feelings…because I had rendered her immune to those consequences in the first place. She had my stability. She had my care. She was in my hands whether she actively realized this or not. She trusted me completely as she had said, entrusting me to exist in this unconscious space where no living being should have ever been able to reach.

In the end, my short-term problems and need to wait were my fault.

In the end, Shepard was free to love Ashley this hard and this openly…because of me.

Certainly, Shepard's feelings and emotions for Ashley were her own. There was no denying that. I had nothing to do with the strength or the severity of things. Not in that way.

But the matter of Shepard's near-endless supply of patience and acceptance, of her almost-unlimited limits and tolerances for Ashley above all—I had threaded this in her, opening her to these newfound abilities much sooner than she should have been able to access them. I saw that she could have reached this point on her own eventually. She absolutely could have done so. Just not this quickly, per my initial miscalculations and misjudgments. Not this violently and without cease.

I had done this to myself.

I had opened Shepard to the universe, and in doing so, I had somehow taught her how to love as an action, and not only as a feeling. She had already had this potential in her. She had already been more than capable of doing it by herself, without my support and my inspiration. Due to how closed-off she had once been, this nature had been obscured until I had opened and unlocked her, all of her.

And I found that I could not control Shepard's thoughts, her feelings or her raw emotions, but I absolutely had the power to close her again. Just as she could stop me from accessing her thoughts and feelings, I could stop her from accessing her reserves of patience and acceptance and thoughtfulness and care—any qualities of hers linked to a general sense of mental stability and emotional maturity.

I learned that Ashley was somehow linked to this. She could never have control in the ways that I did, though it was possible for her to at least gain a foothold here in this space, and for Shepard to lean on her for support. A normal sense, a general sense for us as organic species to rely on one another through our relationships, to view the other person as our 'rock': Shepard certainly needed Ashley to need her, but she had yet to open her heart completely, needing Ashley in this more direct way.

Shepard could say that she needed her.

She could proclaim the words.

I saw for myself that she was not there yet, not one hundred percent. Perhaps not even halfway. Although wherever Shepard was on this spectrum, it was significant for her. She had never experienced anything like this before, and so she could not fathom the real idea that she still had a long way to go.

I wasn't entirely sure that Shepard would ever open up to Ashley like this on her own. I had no control over the matter, either. It remained her decision to make, whether she knew this or not.

A few days ago, I took the risk of briefly testing this for myself.

I didn't want to hurt Shepard in any way, but this was necessary. I could no longer rely on simulations.

These days ago, we were on a mission to an Alliance facility on Luna, Earth's moon. Admiral Hackett had explained that there was a rogue VI on the moon's training ground, causing automated weapons and drones to kill the soldiers there. They could not stop the VI, as it had discovered a way to refuse all shutdown commands. So Hackett had asked for our assistance in destroying the automated systems in the way, before manually shutting down the VI itself.

The team had grown bored of our routine mission of scouting for any remaining hostile geth. We had spent the three weeks or so since our return largely doing the same thing: drifting through various systems in the hopes of finding more geth, to at least have something to report to the Council, and yet we could find none. So we had quickly taken the Normandy off to Luna for this much-needed change of pace.

Given the sheer number of weapons and drones shooting at us in the Mako when we arrived, I'd figured it was best to save my experiment for later on during the mission. I'd waited until we destroyed the guns shooting at us outside above each training facility. I'd waited until we had cleared the individual facilities of the remaining drones and other sabotaged weapons. I'd waited until we were about to finish off the rogue VI completely, after disabling its hardware in the other two buildings on the training grounds.

In the last building, we had located the VI's main control panel. All we'd had left to do was to destroy this equipment, putting an end to the VI's strange behavior. There had been no more hostiles left anywhere in the facility around us, and so I'd decided that this was the perfect opportunity to act.

Shepard had stood with Ashley in front of the VI, trying to make sense of things before outright destroying its hardware. They'd spoken together in a calm, cooperative manner, investigating the control panel while bouncing theories off of one another as to how and why the VI had gone rogue. Tali had been nearby in a corner, surveying the VI's power system. Garrus and Wrex had chatted in another corner, winding down after the pandemonium of the mission. I had decided to watch the doorway, keeping an eye out for any stray hostiles we may have missed. I'd purposely kept my back to the others, to Shepard and Ashley at the panel, needing to maintain some kind of anonymity as I did this:

Like temporarily cutting the systems that powered Shepard's bond with me, I had severed the connection myself, still leaving room to repair it whenever I wanted to afterward.

I had prepared for this loss. I didn't feel anything different.

Or perhaps it was impossible for anything to change for me. Either way, I was perfectly fine.

But Shepard—she had gone quiet then, in that moment.

I'd wished I could have seen her expression.

Though judging by Ashley's reaction, everything had fallen within expected parameters…

"Shepard…? Hey, what's the matter? Skipper, you okay—?"

Inflexible and unyielding, Shepard had snapped at her, "What the hell is wrong with you, Lieutenant? Are you always this casual with your superiors? Breaking protocol and calling me Skipper during an active mission—that shit pisses me off! I'm your commander. You think just because I'm fucking you, that gives you permission to call me whatever you want, whenever you want? This has to stop."

Wrex, Tali, and Garrus had stopped what they were doing, turning to stare.

Baffled, Ashley had sputtered back, "Wait, what?! What are you talking about? Where is this coming from!? We were just having a normal conversation! You're acting like total jackass all of a sudden!"

Shepard had scoffed at that, retorting, "What happened to not bucking my orders? Calling me Skipper, and now a jackass. It's clear you're incapable of shutting your damn mouth. I'm sick of it, Williams."

Frustrated, holding it back—Ashley had changed her tone, though her underlying attitude was no less pronounced as she'd responded, "Sir, with all due respect, you're the one who flipped like a light switch… If me calling you Skipper was some kind of trigger, then I'm sorry—"

Interrupting her, Shepard had pointed out the obvious: "No, you're not. You're not sorry. You never fucking apologize to me first! You never do it unless you're trying to get your way. Well, guess what? I'm not falling for it this time." Having reached at something beyond sensitive in her, Ashley had frowned, clearly hurt, yet Shepard had kept going, and kept going, going so far as to raise her voice in anger: "Don't start with this. You think you can act sad and I'll calm down? I'm done with this. I've had enough of you taking advantage of my patience whenever we get into yet another goddamn argument! I'm at my limit with you, Ashley. I'm at my limit and you don't even notice this shit like I do! You don't notice because either you're too selfish or you don't give a fuck! Which one is it?!"

Barely restraining her emotions, Ashley had lowered her head, pleading in pain, "Shepard…I don't get where this is coming from, but—can't we talk this out? Just please stop yelling at me… Please—"

Shepard had grabbed her sidearm from her hip.

Too shocked by her actions, I hadn't thought to react.

Tali, Garrus, and Wrex hadn't been able to react, either, thrown as they'd already been.

And Shepard had aimed her gun at the VI, shooting it once, twice, three times, each of her shoots booming in a sudden, cracking loudness. Shaking Ashley to her core and in a literal physicality, alarmed by the violence, Shepard hadn't cared at all. She had not cared, giving no reaction when Ashley let out such panicked breaths, ailing. All she had seemed to care about was this mission—the rogue VI was no more now.

Done with all of this, Shepard had made her way out of the room. Or at least she'd tried to. I had been in her way, still standing in the doorway, still pretending as though I knew not why this had occurred.

I'd still had my back to her.

I'd still been unable to process the severity of her reactions, her sheer instability.

To my complete surprise, Shepard had tapped my shoulder, asking in quite a normal, composed tone, "Liara, do you mind moving? It's best if I go outside. I don't want to deal with this right now."

Turning to regard her, I had found Shepard's usual stoicism looking back at me.

Stoicism, blended with her calm.

An eternal calm for me.

I had stepped aside, then, allowing her to pass.

I had watched as Shepard placed her N7 breather helmet over her head, leaving the building.

Wrex, Tali, and Garrus had only been able to stare after her in a stunned silence. They had always known that Shepard and Ashley's relationship was fraught at times, the two of them falling into heated arguments. They had not assumed that this was anything out of the ordinary, aside from Shepard supposedly snapping at Ashley in front of them, instead of in private. They could not know that Shepard had never done such a thing before. They could not guess as to the emotional complexity of this relationship, and so they had abstained from jumping to the correct conclusions about this encounter.

Making up her mind, stubborn—Ashley had chased after Shepard regardless of anything, putting on her own helmet as she ran past me.

Frightened for them, both of them, I had restored my bond with Shepard before Ashley reached her, not wanting the worst to happen.

I had looked to the others, who could only look back at me in helplessness, in confusion.

We'd reached an unspoken agreement to wait until the two of them could talk things over, staying here for the time being.

It shouldn't have mattered to me that Shepard's relationship with Ashley could fall apart so easily like this.

I shouldn't have cared about how this had all made Ashley feel; I shouldn't have been frightened enough to protect her from Shepard's resentment, from her wrath.

I shouldn't have been relieved once I sensed them speaking with one another outside on the moon's surface.

I shouldn't have been pleased that Shepard had managed to apologize to Ashley, explaining that she had lost herself somehow, and that she'd had no idea where she had gone back there. I shouldn't have been calmed by Ashley letting her vulnerabilities show, allowing Shepard to hold her and soothe her and bring her back up. I shouldn't have been glad to see Shepard lower herself, putting Ashley and her emotions first as she threw her own pride away, promising to never do such a thing again, to never hurt her like that in the future.

And once I left outside after some time, I had found the extent of their reconciliation:

Sitting atop the Mako together, Shepard held Ashley close to her as they stared out to the sights beyond the stars. Even in their helmets, in their armor, their tenderness for one another remained undeniable. The full view of Earth glowing there as seas of perfect blue, mountains of craggy gray, plains as vibrant green, and mists of pure white: the pair of them sat there before their homeworld from here on the moon, finding home with one another again. Such an everlasting forgiveness Ashley had in her heart for Shepard, needing her so, the trust between them unbending and unbroken, even after everything.

And even after everything on my end, I remained in awe of my own power over another being like this.

With my control over Shepard's stability, I could have started arguments between them by my own will.

I could have caused absolute mayhem and chaos for them, reverting Shepard back to her closed-off state, where she would have normally shown Ashley such disinterest, and such callous coldness, disregarding everyone and everything except for herself. I could have encouraged a chain reaction where Ashley pushed herself to the brink, trying to chase after Shepard in that coldness, loving her and needing her anyway.

I could have made them both resent one another, hating each other with a passion as strong as the love they shared. I could have splintered their own bond into an abusive one, at least mentally, emotionally.

I could have forced Shepard's relationship with Ashley to end in this way, through my own meddling…

And yet I chose not to.

My reasons were the same that stopped me from pulling the trigger on Virmire.

My reasons were the same that allowed me to enjoy being alone without feeling lonely.

My reasons were the same that validated my findings—that Ashley would ruin everything on her own.

There was no need for me to intervene. No matter how long it took, she would do this to herself, and Shepard would see the truth on her own. I feared for Shepard's reaction, of course…and yet I knew that she would spare me, and that our feelings for one another would remain. I could be patient for this. As selfish and as self-serving as this was, I could accept the logical conclusion at the end of this long road.

Though I could not quite accept what I had almost done to Ashley, and what I had threatened afterward, all for those same reasons as before.

And not just because of how Shepard may have reacted if she learned the truth.

But because of what that incident spoke of me. What it said about me. What it showed me of who I was.

Actually going through with it and destroying Shepard with my own actions…I couldn't have lived with myself afterward had I done this. Had I given into my hatred for someone who did not truly matter; had I allowed the short-term to override my better judgment for this clear, long-term solution. That would have been the true game over for us all—the pinnacle of a critical mission failure.

So I stopped the simulations.

I stopped the tests.

I stopped the experiments.

I stopped 'checking in' with Shepard and Ashley as much as possible, knowing that it would only cause me more pain. I was sick of the pain of watching Shepard kiss someone else. I was sick of the pain of watching Shepard make love to another woman. I was sick to my stomach from experiencing Shepard's sublime perception of this flawed, toxic person whom I despised stronger than anyone in this galaxy.

I resigned myself to waiting this out, despite how uncomfortable I was—despite more than that.

However important I was to Shepard, I could not help feeling the consequences from Virmire anyway.

And so when she called me to her room these few days after the rogue VI mission, I wasn't sure how to react. I had already prepared what to say. I knew to keep pretending as if I could not see and feel everything about her, as was my obsessive wont to do by this point. Yet I had spent all of this time waiting and preparing and pretending. I could hardly get used to the idea of being around her like this again.

When I arrived to Shepard's room, she was the same as ever with me.

Smiling, gentle, she welcomed me back again after such a long time. We sat down on her couch together. Two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc already waiting for us, we drank with one another as we spoke in lightness. Shepard asked me to catch her up on how I had spent my month off on Thessia, and so I did, telling her of my generally uneventful time at home, leaving out how I had missed her in such agony and bleeding pain. She seemed amused by how uneventful my time in fact had been, somehow finding joy in how predictable I was: not wishing to take risks unless absolutely necessary, even with my social life.

I did not ask Shepard for any details about Ashley's promotion, or the time they had spent together on Earth during the remainder of the break. She noticed that I specifically chose not to ask about those things, not even when it appeared to be my turn to do so. Purposeful in her perception, Shepard steered the conversation well away from Ashley, from their time at home with one another.

As limited of a conversationalist as Shepard was, she could only keep this going by herself for so long.

She soon ran out of things to bring up on her own.

I was not at all inclined to bring up something unrelated, simply for the sake of avoiding the real issues.

Noticing this from behind her wine glass, Shepard sipped, once, and asked me, "You have a lot on your mind, don't you? More than you did when you last emailed me during the break. I specifically remember you saying that our talk didn't have to be that involved. Did you mean it at the time?"

"At the time, I did," I promised. "I thought that my plans for this conversation were set in stone."

"Liara, you sent me that message five weeks ago. A lot can change in five weeks. You know that."

"Then what are you asking me for?"

Shepard saw no way out of this: "I need you to clarify something for me. With this whole thing, our connection…you and I have always had our unspoken relationship. If you and I stay at the same distance we've been at—do you think that's the best idea? I mean, with Sovereign, on that specific day…I guess the timing was right. Our bond was still all right. We were still okay. I'm just trying to figure out what the consequences will be if you and I keep on like this."

Staring down at my half-empty glass, I replied, "I don't have any answers for you, Shepard… This is beyond our comprehension. You can only do what you feel is best."

"I understand that," she said, stiffer than usual. "But I thought you would know more."

"We both have the same information," I insisted, knowing that this was a lie. "It isn't my place to make a choice for you. This is your decision. You will do what you wish to do."

Clamping down on her jaw this time, Shepard continued using such indirect language with me, "Did you not see the consequences a few days ago? Didn't you feel that on the moon, the way things suddenly ended between us? Like a power outage. Like my backup generators came online, and I reverted right back to how I was before all of this started. That's the same insensitive person I was before I met you. Isn't that going to happen in the worst case scenario?"

"Shepard, I do not know what the worst case scenario is," I explained, growing frustrated with this. "I don't know what you mean or what it is you are trying to say. I wish you would just say it, whatever it is. What is so terrible that you aren't able to be direct with me?"

She would not say the words.

Not right away.

Sighing over her strangeness, I drank more wine. It would have been so much easier to see what this was for myself. But then I would've given myself away with my clairvoyance. I had already gotten myself in enough trouble with that sight of mine. I could not afford to continue leaning on it, not even during these unusual times. I had to save it for absolute emergencies, otherwise I would likely pain myself more by accidentally seeing something that I did not wish to know about.

I could not keep on like that, as such a masochist to the truth of Shepard's psychology and desires.

By the time I finished my glass of wine, and she finished hers, I sensed a marked change about her.

Whether Shepard would act on this change, I could not know.

Still controlling herself for the moment, she said in a low voice, "Liara, when we first cooled off, I thought that I would be immune to you by now. Then, when my birthday came around, I accepted that I'm always going to love you. And I thought that was fine—and then Vigil happened. Then Saren and Sovereign happened. I wasn't sure what to believe after the Citadel, so I didn't let myself dwell on it. But when we were on Earth's moon, how I reacted…deep down, I was terrified. I lashed out. I took this out on her. With you…I couldn't do the same. I couldn't hurt you. Even with that blackout, you were still…"

Hands shaking in that control, Shepard could not say the words.

Staving off this emergency, I set both of our wine glasses aside, atop the table.

I held both of her hands in mine, stabilizing her as much as I could like this.

"Please say what you mean," I requested, feeling the way she gripped my touch, tighter. "I need you to use your words, Shepard. You must tell me, otherwise I won't know. All I do know is that this has dwelled in the very back of your mind…for a long time now. So I'd like you to share it with me."

Shepard chose anger first: "Why did you let this happen?"

Not understanding, I asked, "Why did I let what happen?"

"Why did you let me fall into this?" she needed to know, still gripping. "Why did you tell me to be with her when you wanted me for yourself? Why did you give up on me? If I mean so damn much to you, then why didn't you fight!? Why did you let yourself get shoved aside to wait on the fucking sidelines?"

We had gone over this already—months ago.

Irrational, stability holding, but barely—Shepard glared at me through her tears brimming along her eyelids, about to slip down that brink to her face.

Giving her the same answers again seemed…pointless.

So I gave her the relevant answer, the words that I had prepared for this conversation, "Because, I honestly feel as though I don't deserve you. No one deserves you, Shepard. Yet we are all here anyway, trying to live up to your expectations of what it means to live and to thrive. I'm not the person you believe I am. I am simply incapable of living up to your expectations. I have failed. I need to accept that."

Shepard growled out her exasperation, "Goddamnit, Liara, why are you so passive?! What the hell are you talking about—you failed? I'm sitting right here in front of you, right now! What does it matter if you deserve me or not?!" She couldn't know, she couldn't know; I only shook my head, incensing her further. "I still want you. I still need you. I still love you. You know I can't even function without you! You're in this space in my mind, dictating whether I get to keep my own sanity or not! You're the only one in this universe with that power over me, with that control over me… Why are you wasting your own potential to be someone in my eyes? Why do you always give up, over and over again?"

"I will disregard your accusations," I warned, level-headed, "If only because you are misguided. You have no idea the things I've done to not give up on you. I am not passive; I am not wasting anything. I love you more than you will ever know. I mean this in every sense of the words. You will never know… And that is how it is supposed to be. There is nothing I can do at this point to change reality."

Shepard let go of my hands, almost throwing my touch away.

Her grip had left these heated prints over my skin from her fingers cutting off my circulation.

I wasn't sure if she wanted to yell at me, to tell me to get out and never come back.

Her frustrations had likely grown out of proportion, from the way she had learned that her own stability was not entirely within her control.

I was in control.

I would not tell her what she wished to hear, just for the sake of it.

That I refused to placate her—or to change—had Shepard more upset than her lack of sovereignty.

"Liara, if you love me so much," accused Shepard, again, "Then why won't you change your approach? You're so damn cautious, like you're diseased. Why do you keep acting like I'll disapprove if you show me who you are? You're stuck in your ways. I don't get it, and it pisses me off. It makes me think you're lying."

"Change…my approach?" I asked, hollow from her poor beliefs about me.

"Yeah, that's right. Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing now?"

"Why would I change for you when you are unwilling to do the same for me? If I showed you who I truly am, it would not end well. If I well and truly decided to fight in the ways you keep imagining, then we would all suffer. You would only react negatively to any change I might show in my attempts to have you to myself. You have already done it before. Why risk it again on a larger scale? You will not change your reactions to suit me, to protect me. I will not change my actions all for a guaranteed loss in your eyes."

"That was petty shit—it's not the same!" claimed Shepard. "This is a completely different situation. If you want me, then fucking act like it. We can't afford to keep sitting around. I already know I'm not going to budge emotionally unless you prove this to me. You have to make me move, otherwise I won't be genuine about anything. So whatever the hell you're holding back needs to come out now."

Not liking this at all, I fought back, "I already know how this would end! It would end exactly the way I expect it to. You love Ashley too much for me to risk fighting for you. So either you will make the choice to be with me instead of her, or we will get nowhere! That is final, Shepard. Do you understand me?"

"How do you know!?" she raged. "How do you know what you've never seen before? How?!"

"I know you," I told her, pointing out the obvious. "You have already shown me who you are. You will put her above me, above my wants every time, without fail! You left me for her already! You will always put her first… And you will do it again, and again, and again, every time, no matter how hard I try! Any attempt I make to fight for you will only end in critical failure! How many times must I tell you the same thing, over and over again? I should not have to keep repeating myself! You are better than this!"

Standing now, Shepard allowed her loss of control to spiral out from her voice—"Fucking hell, Liara, if you don't try, you don't know anything! Stop patronizing me! Stop condescending me! You can't just claim to know me and that's it, like you know better! Like you know me better than I know myself—"

Standing up, I met her with my own control—"Shepard, I do know you better than you know yourself! That is the whole point! That is why you are so angry right now—because I am in this place that should be your own, because I see you in ways that she will never be able to! I am speaking from experience, from direct knowledge! I am not condescending you! Why can't you accept this and believe me?!"

"Fuck it!" she cursed. "I don't need this bullshit from you. Get out of my room, Liara. Forget it. Just leave!"

Beyond irritated with her temper tantrum, I turned and went.

I went up the stairs, past her aquarium, past her closed bathroom, and over to the door.

And I was about to leave.

I was about to go, to retreat to my room and reconsider things—mostly the value of loving someone who could be so shortsighted, so prone to making such hurtful accusations without thinking.

But then I stopped here.

I remembered.

Regardless of her feelings for Ashley or for me, and regardless of her control, the obvious remained:

Shepard bore the weight of the entire galaxy on her shoulders.

She did not simply have that weight there on her person in passivity, struggling to exist underneath it.

In her exceptional willpower, Shepard was strong enough to actively hold up that weight with her honor, her duty, and to bear it proudly. This was the gallantry she'd displayed on the Citadel, earning her that Medal of Honor. This was the hope she had given the trillions of souls spanning our galactic civilization.

Perhaps she did not have the strength to budge, to move.

Perhaps she did not have the strength to change this course her heart was already set on.

And perhaps she did not have the strength, the energy to deal with this on top of her guilt over still loving me anyway, still wanting and needing me despite how much she loved another.

In my own shortsightedness, it did not occur to me that Shepard was, in fact, fallible.

She could not do everything—and here she was, begging for my help in the only way she could.

This was not all, though.

As I heard Shepard's nearing footsteps, stopping just by the brightened water of her aquarium, I felt more. I felt it louder once she stopped there to stare at me, to stare at the back of my head, to stare at my contemplation. I felt it strongest and most stringent as I listened to her breaths so uneven.

That feeling of loss in her heart, so irrational and powerful and traumatizing:

As if I was about to leave her, and she could not handle it.

As if she was about to lose me, and she could not stand it.

As if she suddenly meant less as a person—no matter her many accomplishments—all because I would not turn around and face her; all because I had seemingly kept my back to her for these six months we had known and wanted one another; all because, in letting her go to love someone else, she believed that I did not value her as much as I claimed.

That someone else, she did not need like this, down to the folds of her organs, the blood there. Shepard had only thought she did. She now knew the truth.

Abandoned already, forgotten as an orphan on Earth's streets again, even though I was only here by the door, right in her sights—Shepard didn't want me to go. She didn't want me to give up and leave. She didn't want me to walk out of this door and make her return to her denials about me, about the two of us.

Yet this needed to change somehow. We had to resolve this dilemma. We needed to fix our relationship.

And as I stared at this locked door of her room, I had such a poignant feeling, discerned and shadowed in the Normandy's darkened blue:

This could have been our last conversation.

This could have been…at least for a long while.

With this feeling in mind and in heart, I turned around to look at her.

Those tears in Shepard's sunlit eyes had long-since fallen, highlighted and outlined over her radiant skin in transparency. Just as transparent from her, those same sentiments continued to fall for me and me alone. They kept falling as she stared at me, needing me to help keep her together. She should have fallen that day on the Citadel, and she should have fallen each day afterward, and yet she was still here, unable to move forward without me.

Shepard was the sun, unable to shine without me.

She couldn't keep ignoring this any longer.

I walked over to her, standing before her height above me.

Everlasting in beauty, I held her face this time. Watermarks of my hands here; Shepard did not, could not look away in shame as I had expected. She wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me so much closer than I thought she could. And as close as we were like this, she could have leaned down to me. She could have breached this space, having me again after so long. She could have taken me back to her bed to take me, rewarding my waiting, my calculating, and my changing that had almost changed too much. She could have finally claimed me completely, letting me be so much better than what she already had. She could have had me in those ways she had suppressed.

After all, I had saved myself for her for so long, so long—for this entire century of my life—no matter what we risked.

She could have…but she chose not to.

Shepard was still with Ashley—that reckless woman who would watch the world burn at her very worst.

Shepard still had their contract.

Shepard could not be with me freely, just as she never could before, only far more pronounced this time.

She clutched me to her instead, breaking our eye contact. I held her head here right over mine, hidden in this shadow of me. Shepard allowed more of her transparency to show, drenching me as this rainfall over the crests of my head. Water over water, seas across seas, she gave me this pleading, entreating:

"Liara, I'm sorry," she whispered, throat clenched for clarity. "I'm sorry I let all of this happen. I am supposed to be better than this. I'm supposed to be…but I'm not. What happened on the moon was such a wake-up call. I knew I needed you before. I had no idea it was this bad… I swear, I didn't know."

"It's all right," I consoled, stroking her hair that shimmered in this indigo darklight. "You couldn't know. Please don't blame yourself for this."

Shepard finally admitted out loud, "I needed you to keep me away from her before. I needed you to do it…because I was terrified of this exact situation. Somewhere, somehow, I knew. I knew that I wouldn't be able to resist her if you left the door open—or even if you didn't. I knew that I wouldn't be able to say no to her once I let myself burn like this. There was still this last thing…this part of me that only you have access to, out of her reach. Without you here, I can't stand on my own two feet."

"Then the solution is clear," I realized. "Don't you agree?"

Shaking her head against me, she sniffled there, breathing out, "I'm too scared to move from where I am. This exact spot helped me finish the mission. This exact place guaranteed me that victory. I get what you said about not wanting to take risks—I get it now, I get it. I don't want to change; I don't want you to leave me; I don't want to hurt her like this anymore."

I felt my own loss in giving up these words, yet I couldn't keep them to myself any longer: "Shepard, you need to be fair to her. You must. You owe her that much. Give Ashley a chance tonight. Allow yourself to trust her in the same ways, and see how it feels. You have been so focused on being strong for her, supporting her, nurturing her. You should give her the chance to do the same for you."

Shepard heaved a sigh down to my neck, so heavy as she asked, "Why?"

"I believe you are in this much pain because you're convinced that only I am capable of loving you this way. Perhaps it wouldn't be as agonizing if you learned for yourself that she can do this, too. Even though she can't be where I am, you should at least give her the opportunity to do what she can."

"I don't want to have to explain this to her…"

"And you won't need to," I reassured her. "If it's right, if it is meant to be, then she will know enough. Ashley should know once she sees you again. Go to her with your complete transparency for once. Give her your authentic self instead of always trying to be her hero. She will not look down on you for having such strong emotions, Shepard. Not like some of the women from your past, before us."

Acceptance, understanding: Shepard's storm over me began to subside.

Helping her more, I held her face in my both of hands again—as best as I could at this angle. Letting her hide here in this shadow of me, still, I activated my biotics over my touch for her. This small measure of peace reigning between us: I listened as Shepard sighed in a contented harmony. Heavier, she lowered her head over me more. Calming those fears of hers as much as I could, her fetish locked in this memory of us here, of having me here with her in complete trust and vulnerability.

"Please do this for me, Shepard," I murmured into her peace, cementing. "If we are going to fix things and find our balance again, then I need you to be absolutely certain. No matter what happens with her, you and I will live on with one another. I will give you this stability alone if she is unable to provide it for you. I will love you this way on my own if she cannot. If you ever become uncomfortable relying on her, or if you simply prefer to have me here instead, then I will do as you wish. I will support you in whatever capacity you need. I will stand behind you as you remain strong for everyone else, for the rest of the galaxy. To the very end, and even beyond. Will you accept my promise?"

"Yes, Liara," she welcomed, voice trembling in that need. "Yes…"

I pulled away a bit, only a bit, for Shepard to look at me properly.

She did so, her eyes, her hair and her skin beamed by the blue of my biotics, of the aquarium next to us.

"Good," I replied, smiling with all that I felt for her.

Shepard sighed once more with my expression, my own acceptance. "Thank you…for understanding."

"I will always do my best to understand you. And I'm sorry as well—for arguing before."

She let herself smile back at me, just enough, with any and all strife between us at last forgiven.

"Now go to her," I requested, ending our powered embrace. "You can't keep putting this off anymore."

"Yeah, okay," she accepted. "I'll spare you the details later… But I'll tell you if anything changes."

"Very well, Shepard. Whenever you would like us to speak again, please let me know. I will return then."

"Sounds good, Liara. I appreciate you doing this for me. You've helped me out more than you know."

I smiled at her one last time, as if I did not know…but sadly, I did. I knew the truth now, so undeniable.

I returned to my room, holding this in, holding this old, obvious knowledge in, and the implications of it. I had been so blind to this before. Not anymore, not anymore.

Passing by Tali, Wrex, and Garrus on their way to the mess hall for dinner together, I smiled at them as they smiled back at me—even Tali from behind her mask, the brights of her eyes angling up as much. They invited me to join them, to share a meal with them. I had to predictably decline, lying by claiming that I was not hungry. And they believed me, as I was ever so prone to forego eating with them, to avoid Ashley as much as possible, avoiding the truth of the matter.

Far more humiliating, I could not face Tali at a time like this. I had made promises to her in private. Promises about Shepard. Promises that Shepard's relationship with Ashley would not last forever. Partly to help Tali maintain and improve her friendship with Ashley, with this secret advantage that no one else could know about. And if I were to admit the truth, I knew that I would only devastate her. I could not go through with it. I could not stand to put my own best friend through so much pain. I could not fathom that my own hubris had made me make those promises to her, not knowing any better. I could not look her in the eye and say that her patience may have been all for nothing in the end…just as mine was. Just as it always had been.

Even after all of my waiting…I lay down alone in this bed for the umpteenth time.

I knew, in the end, that it was pointless to continue remembering Shepard, remembering these memories of her here with me, once. Remembering how she had kept going for me for hours. Remembering how I'd had her under my control in her uncontrollable need to please me, over and over again. Remembering how I'd thought there was more to us, how I'd believed there would be more to us, and how I'd needed her to stay with me in our arrangement until I was ready for us to commit to one another. Remembering how she had lied to herself to be with me when she already wanted another woman instead.

Tonight, I had lied to her by not telling her the truth of what I saw, the severity of it:

Shepard had told Ashley during their night before Ilos—she had told Ashley the truth without realizing it.

Shepard had told Ashley that she would sacrifice anything for her.

Risk-averse when it suited her: Shepard would not sacrifice at all, would not take a single step from her place in this galaxy if it was not for Ashley, if it was not in Ashley's honor, if it was not in Ashley's image.

And if this continued—if I supposedly kept all of my promises—then I knew how this would end.

It would end how I expected. Remaining here in this stasis of denial was no longer sustainable for me.

If it meant not risking her life and leaving Ashley alone without her, then Shepard would not hesitate.

Shepard would run away with Ashley. Take her away. She would retreat with her, finding a safe place to hide, to protect her until this was all over. She would leave me behind. She would leave this lie, this belief that I was someone I was not. She would take Ashley off to some unknown place where no one could follow them, ignoring that risk: making the ultimate sacrifice for the woman she truly loved.

Shepard would leave everyone to suffer the Reaper invasion without her.

She would sacrifice the lives of trillions, watching the galaxy burn for Ashley's sake.

She would put Ashley first no matter what. She would put Ashley before me, every time. Every time, even with this. Even with this.

Of course, Shepard would always love me. She would always be in love with me…and yet it was not enough to stop this, any of this.

She would have left me behind to continue bleeding for her like this, knowing that I needed her so. She would have, even after my earlier, childish, desperate begging for her to not leave me, to not leave me alone without her.

Once again, I lay here sobbing over her in my false loneliness. Staying as quiet as I could, suffocating my sounds against my pillow that still held some golden brown strands of her hair; hiding from this ship beneath my comforter that somehow still smelled of her black chamomile smoothness, this was all I could do. I could only cling to her ethereal presence here beside me as my pacifier, as my only solace, my only companion.

Once again, I chose not to put up a fight.

Because if I did fight, I knew what I was capable of. I knew how I would kill and destroy to have her to myself. I had nearly done it already. I had nearly destroyed her heart in my selfishness, my impatience. I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't do it. I could never, ever hurt her in that way, even if it meant suffering without her like this. Even if it meant watching her love the very person I had tried to get out of my way. Even if it meant smiling with Tali and the others while I died on the inside. Even if it meant pretending that I was strong enough to deal with this situation when I knew full-well that I was not.

This mind-bending obsession I had for Shepard, this excessive fascination I had for Shepard, this boundary-shattering devotion I had for Shepard, this inability I had to let her go despite the pain, because I loved her, I loved her so: I could not express, I could not show to her, I could not give to her face-to-face, skin-on-skin, basking in her light everlasting. I needed her inside of me, to shape me as hers. I needed her to give me all of those scenarios she had suppressed, as the most intense sex she could ever conceive with another, even with her. I needed Shepard to know the truth of what I had done, and for her to take out her anger on me, fucking me relentlessly in hatred; fucking my mind even more so, enough to force such fear and trembling in me, so masochistic, so cathartic—before she finally forgave me again, because I knew she would.

But I was too scared to be completely honest with her. I was too terrified to show and to give Shepard the full extent of my feelings for her, of my raw emotions for her that fueled my calculating obsessions, of how my heart and soul existed for her in a place where there was no space or time. I was far too afraid to move from this spot, no matter how much I cried without her. Too weak in my defeat to that lesser tool, I simply didn't have the strength to push forward. I resigned myself to this critical failure.

Once again, I let Shepard go like this, for her to make this decision, putting her heart before mine…again.

Our borrowed time together was nearly at an end.

(Ashley)

We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven—that which we are, we are:
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Sitting still like this in my room, wearing the usual clothes I wore to bed, re-reading "Ulysses" by Tennyson for probably the thousandth time: I should have been anxious. I should have been worried. I should have been paranoid, assuming the worst about what Shepard was actually doing with Liara up in her private cabin, even knowing I could've walked in on them at any moment. I stayed perfectly calm as I curled up in bed with my poetry book. After all, I had always loved this poem, because it was about someone who was stuck somewhere, dreaming of wider adventures out in the world. Someone who couldn't sit still. Someone who thought the worst of their actual place in life.

Six months ago before I joined this team on the Normandy, I'd definitely had that same wanderlust.

I'd had the same outlook on things, hating my place in life, hating that I was stuck in that place because of the stigma surrounding my family's name; hating that Dad had gone through the exact same thing while he was still alive.

These days, I couldn't relate to this poem nearly as much anymore.

I still had plans to read it to Dad's grave the next time I visited him. Hopefully over the coming holidays. Christmas and New Year's were only a few weeks away.

I also had plans to tell him how and why so much had changed with me. We both had Shepard to thank for that, for changing our family's legacy for the better…

As soon as I felt my mind going back there, I had to stop it. But it was way harder to do that now.

That day of Shepard's first 'anonymous' surprise—my N7 Soldier commendation—I noticed the beginnings of this, of how difficult it was to imagine my life without her in it. It had always been hard for me to picture things without Shepard there. I'd always had these same dreams and fantasies about her. When I got the commendation from her, though, that was when everything expanded more. Maybe a little farther outside my comfort zone. Because we couldn't talk about it. Because we weren't on the same wavelength with this. Because it was way too soon.

Then, the next day, the delivery came: adding to the bouquet of roses she had given me back on Earth, which I'd taken back with me to Amaterasu, leaving them there in my room. Shepard had sent me more flowers at home—four gorgeous bouquets of everlasting roses of red and white mixed together—knowing that my family was with me to see. She hadn't included her name that time, or a note, basically hinting that she didn't want me to mention this to her over email, or voice chat while she streamed her games for me to watch. I'd managed not to say anything, even though I'd wanted to thank her, to ask her so badly why she had picked the number four, of four bouquets to send. For my sisters and me, the four of us together? For my birthday in April, the fourth month of the year? For something else instead?

I had five bouquets of everlasting roses from her now. Maybe that included my mother, the five of us.

And then, that same day, that was when the email came in from Alliance Command.

The email…about my immediate promotion to Second Lieutenant in light of my work and accomplishments throughout the years, and while serving aboard the Normandy. Along with a promise to exonerate granddad, to make sure that the Williams family wasn't blacklisted anymore. All of this during that formal ceremony at Arcturus Station with Admiral Hackett and Councilor Anderson.

Thinking back on it now, I wasn't sure what had made me more emotional at the time: that I'd lived to see the day finally come, or that Shepard chose to keep a low-profile about it, pretending like she didn't have such a huge hand in making sure this happened for me, for my family, fighting for us like this.

As ungrateful as my mother was, and as Lynn and Abby were, it couldn't matter to me right now.

Shepard was everything to me.

She was my family, too.

Even though this probably would've made her uncomfortable if I told her, she had to know by now.

Now more than ever, I wanted to give her a family. I wanted to, and not just as a far-off fantasy I forced myself to keep setting aside. I couldn't care about that shit Liara had threatened. I couldn't let myself go back to that dark, terrifying place. There was no point. Aside from that sudden argument Shepard and I'd had a few days ago on the moon, we were fine… Even though she'd hurt me a lot, I forgave her pretty much right away. I had forgiven her as soon as I'd looked at the rogue VI's console after Shepard had destroyed it, seeing the binary code there spelling out an S.O.S., like the VI was afraid somehow. Like that whole thing was a cry for help.

That had made me see how Shepard must've been afraid in that moment, too. Something had happened, and she was afraid, so she'd lashed out. I couldn't blame her for it. After Sovereign, she was bound to have some issues come up here and there. I was just grateful that she didn't have to worry about anything more. She was okay. She was still the same person she was before the battle.

That day on the Citadel, when I could only watch through her eyes as she talked Saren down, as she disabled Sovereign all on her own…I could never forget how incredible she was for pulling that off. I had been so scared for her at the time—but I'd refused to let that get to me. I had prayed for her with all my heart. I'd prayed, and I'd believed: and before I knew it, she'd succeeded. The best infiltrator in the galaxy, helping to take down a Reaper all alone, because of those protections she had… Right then and there, I fell in love with her so much harder, way beyond what was possible; way beyond all reason.

This want of mine turned into an absolute need as I sat here in my bunk, staring at the page of this poem.

This poem that had once defined my life, completely.

I had to turn to a new page.

I didn't want Shepard to feel like an orphan anymore whenever she was lost.

I wanted her to know that she didn't need to feel lost at all. Not now, not ever. Not with me.

Despite everything, Shepard had me. I was here. And I wanted to be everything for her, just like she was for me. I loved this feeling of being whole. This was better than us being apart like we were before…even with these barriers in our way.

When a gentle knock sounded at my door, I looked up in surprise.

It couldn't have been Tali asking about dinner. I had already told her that I ate earlier. I wasn't hungry.

Who else would be this soft with their knocking, if not her?

Paranoid this time for real, I braced my defenses. Half-expecting this to be Liara ready to shoot me down, I prepared myself for anything. Ever since that day on Virmire, I'd always had to do this. I refused to let her catch me off-guard again. I had to be more alert from now on as long as she was still around.

When I answered the door, though, my defenses fell to the floor.

Shepard was there in her Alliance fatigues, gazing down at me in patience.

Her skin beamed more than usual in the faded blue lighting of the hallway, soaking it all in. She was damp, too, like she had just gotten out of the shower. I smelled that freshness of her scent once I let her walk past me, into my room, the door locking behind her. I sensed it all for myself once Shepard pulled me close, angling me into her with a protectiveness she'd never fully given me before. She brought me even closer once she heard my surprise, and more—once I felt her between me, against me—

"Shepard!" I gasped, pulling away. "Are you…asking me for something? Here in my room this time?"

"Not right away, babe," she promised, genuine. Shepard stroked my reddened face, asking, "How long did you spend in your bed before, dreaming about me? I can make that old wish come true for you. Besides, I want to finish what we started here months ago. You know what I mean."

When she put it that way, I couldn't help smiling at her.

Shepard shaped her own smile so charming, so gorgeous in how handsome she was, it made my heart ache.

I held her lithe hand in mine, bringing her with me to my bed.

Sitting together, side-by-side, I watched Shepard as she looked at my table, my things there. She definitely noticed that I didn't have my flowers here; I'd already told her that I had brought them back home with me before. She mostly took note of all my poetry books. The datapads underneath the books, she couldn't see them, and she couldn't know that I'd written dozens of my own love sonnets there…all of them for her. I considered letting her read them now, but I was still way too embarrassed.

Shepard picked up the book I had been reading just before she got here.

"Alfred Tennyson?" she wondered, recognizing the poem. "I remember you mentioning him a while ago."

"Yeah, he's a favorite of mine," I shared. "Dad, too. He passed it on to me."

"Did your father also write his own poetry? Or is that just you?"

When I couldn't answer her, feeling embarrassed again, Shepard laughed in gentleness.

"Ash, did you think I forgot? You said something about this when we talked on Noveria in that blizzard."

I sighed, saying, "It's not that… I didn't think you'd mention it, that's all. I know you're not into my sappy poems. So I never bring it up. It's not like I mind, either. We have plenty of other things to talk about."

"Well, it's important to you," she pointed out. "Let me read something of yours."

"Why…?"

Shepard smiled wider. "Because your face is getting red again, and now I'm curious," she justified. That didn't help at all… "Babe, don't you think a lot of this started over your poems? The very first time I was here in your room with you, I remember you telling me about them. How you would write those love sonnets and love letters for me, sending them to yourself through your work email, hoping I would find them. I know we never talk about how much you like poetry. This has always been in the back of my mind, though. In a way, it helped bring us together. Just maybe not in the way you originally imagined."

Having her presence here with me like this, I realized how right she was.

In my eyes, Shepard was always right.

She was always right in her judgments, every time, even if she seemed wrong in the moment.

Having Shepard here with me felt right. Especially here in my room, here in my bed where I had spent so many nights pining after her, wanting her, needing her. Hoping she would notice me. Hoping she would finally take the time to see me for who I was instead of going off of what she'd assumed. Agonizing over the possibility that maybe she had already seen me for who I was—all the way—and maybe that was why she couldn't stand me, couldn't stand being around me, couldn't stand looking at me.

Now that she was here, I had to take the chance—I had to ask her directly, instead of only mentioning it.

Setting my poetry book aside, I sat back against my pillows, sitting up. I brought Shepard closer to me, as close as I could. She was too tall to lie down with me properly like this. And I knew she hesitated less because of that, and more because she still had her boots on: she didn't want to get my bed dirty or anything. I smiled over how considerate she was, not minding this awkward position of her sitting and leaning over me, letting me hold her like this.

Listening to this silence, the way she breathed…I started to pick up on something.

Like she might have been in a different kind of mood.

Like she was actually worried, and she only acted this way to pretend she was above it all.

I wanted to ask about this, too, but I felt myself wavering.

Shepard never talked to me about her problems. She never let her emotions show, not all the way. Not even when we had sex. She never shared her feelings with me—unless they were mostly positive, or she could dress them up in that suave charm of hers, floating somewhere high in the sky above me.

Only now did I see how much she'd been holding back with me all this time.

Only now could I tell that Shepard hadn't given me even half of her heart. Maybe not that much. Even though she knew I had given her all of me, she couldn't do the same.

I felt her getting anxious. Losing her patience, like she expected me to say something, do something.

I couldn't say or do the right things unless she gave me some kind of hint, or guidance.

I knew she wouldn't. I knew I had to figure this out on my own.

Buying time, I reached over to my stack of datapads nearby.

Shepard watched as I pulled a random letter over to her, giving it to her.

"I want to share this with you, Skipper," I told her. "Looks like I wrote it a few hours after Eden Prime… I didn't think I'd ever let you see it. I was kind of pathetic at the time. I guess it doesn't matter. Go ahead and read."

As she did, I tried my best to read her instead.

She'd always made that difficult for me. Probably on purpose. This wasn't any different.

Feeling the way Shepard seemed to close herself more, steeling, I got thrown back in time, almost, to when we were in her hometown during shore leave. How she'd avoided me. How she'd acted like nothing was wrong. How she'd put up these same damn barriers of hers, putting on a front, too much like guys usually did, to keep me from seeing her actual emotions. I wasn't sure if she did this because she was afraid of me judging her, or if she was afraid of having anything to be judged in the first place. I wasn't sure if she hid from me like this because she hated her feelings, or if she honestly just didn't trust me in the same ways I trusted her.

I had to admit, too: watching her read this letter of mine where I had pined after her, freaking out; spilling my heart over how I'd pretty much loved her for five years, and how she was the one who made me start questioning my sexuality in the first place…it was like her heart was made of stone or something.

Especially once Shepard finished reading the letter, setting it back with the rest in silence.

No words.

No reaction.

Did she not care about my feelings now?

Or did this have something to do with Liara, their talk?

Trying not to sound offended, I asked her, "Shepard, what's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?"

"I read your letter already," she admitted. "A while back, in our dream. I read it before I woke you up that night."

Oh…well, that made sense. For some reason, I wasn't surprised.

Shepard wondered, "Are you mad at me?"

"Not because of that," I shared.

"Then what is it…?"

"You already know."

And even though I felt this way, I still held Shepard tighter.

She didn't move away. She didn't shift or try to avoid me. As awkward as we were in this position, she actually let me press her head over my chest, listening to me breathe her in, listening to my emotions.

Osmosis of her memories as much as possible, interspersed over my own: I knew for certain now that Shepard had held back with me, every time.

Every time she'd had me since that night on the roof of the 94 in San Diego, she hadn't given me her whole heart.

Every single time she'd taken me, all of me, she hadn't given all of herself back to me in return.

Especially before Ilos, including when I'd woken up in the middle of the night, I could tell now that Shepard had almost been mechanical with me, paying more attention to what I liked than anything else. I hadn't known any better because it was all still so new to me. I had more experience now that we had spent those last two weeks of the break in her apartment back on Earth, pretty much fucking the entire time, like a marathon in between Shepard taking me out on more romantic dates; even beating those eight hours I'd heard about. And now I could piece together the hints and clues from the handful of times she had almost let go with me. Those things didn't measure up to the whole picture. They were only small pieces when they should have been the full thing, the entire painting—the spectrum of colors and the complete subject.

The words Shepard had given me—those were real. Those were genuine. Those were her.

The rest didn't add up. The rest didn't connect, didn't flow into each other seamlessly.

I only felt my expectations souring like this because I knew she had it in her.

I knew, and she held back with me on purpose.

Shepard knew I was pissed off at her. "Ashley, I'm sorry… I have a lot on my mind tonight."

Getting this out of the way: "Does this have to do with Liara somehow? Do you want to be with her?"

"I'm not leaving you for her. I'm not leaving you. I could never leave you behind, Ash… I can't. I'm only now realizing how much I've held back with you. I'm not sure if I can handle the whole truth."

I didn't ask Shepard if she was going to leave me for Liara instead. I asked if she wanted to be with her.

But I had to ignore that, or else.

"What's the whole truth, then? Why do you keep holding back with me?"

"Because…I can't articulate how much I love you. Just saying the words—I love you—is never enough. Just having sex with you is never enough. How I touch you, how I kiss you, the words I give you, the money I spend on you, and whatever else I might do for you—none of it feels like it's ever enough. Nothing I could do for you would possibly be enough. So I blank out, or I cling to what I know instead. Anything to avoid the only answer in front of me. Anything but that. I hate that I'm like this."

The way this heat suddenly radiated from Shepard's skin, from her forehead, from the crown of her sheen of hair beneath my lips, sweat building in frustration and embarrassment both—I felt how serious this was for her. She heard my own understanding, how my heart picked up over this, from her logical passions. I couldn't hide it. I couldn't hide anything from her.

Putting her first, I set aside my own hurt feelings, relying on the strength of our relationship instead.

I let her hear this in my voice, "And what's the answer, Shepard? How did you get to this point?"

"Somewhere along the way, I lost a part of me," she said, aggrieved. "I never learned how to cope with my problems. How to deal with things. I put it off, controlling myself to keep from self-destructing. Except now I see that I'm not my own person anymore. I'm not standing on my own two feet. I don't want to move from this spot."

"That's the answer, isn't it? For you to move. You have to move from this spot you're in."

"I don't want to move!"

Glad that we had gotten somewhere, I held her tighter, asking, "Why not? Why don't you want to?"

"Babe, after everything I've done, I can't stand the thought of you seeing me fall or mess up."

"So you're willing to keep the rest of your heart out of my reach? If it means you get to be perfect in front of me, I can't have all of you?"

Shepard forced herself to sound normal, "I don't know. I hate not knowing. I hate that I can't deal with this. I feel like if I move, if I change, I'll end up giving you a lot of power. You'll shape me differently. I won't know what to expect from my own actions. If I let you become me like I keep thinking about, then that would be the ultimate expression of how much I love you. That is the answer."

And that sounded so beautiful, but… "Could you even do that? I mean, with everything going on…"

For some reason, Shepard wouldn't answer me.

Not because she didn't have an answer.

I could tell that she just didn't want to say it out loud. To put a voice to it.

I changed my question instead: "Skipper, regardless of whatever else…don't you think you could try? At least for tonight. See how it feels." She went still at that; stopped breathing. "Listen, I know you're feeling the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders. I wish you'd share it with me. I'm here for you, too."

"I don't know how to try."

"Don't you think you're being too logical about this?"

Shepard shook her head, insisting, "Ash, I can't help it. That's what frustrates me. I don't know what I've never tried before. I don't know what I've never seen before. I don't know! I feel so fucking inadequate."

Inadequate…

Out of her depth. Out of her comfort zone.

She was always the one guiding me, guiding the rest of us.

At least on an emotional level, maybe it was my turn to do this for her.

I knew well enough by now that Shepard was a visual person. She did need to see things to understand them better. Hell, even during the two weeks we'd spent apart before my promotion, her sex drive had somehow calmed down. Like just because she couldn't see me, it made things more obscure for her. But once we'd made it back to her apartment for the last two weeks of the break, she suddenly saw me again, and then things went back to normal…even with her holding out on me like this, emotionally.

Right now, I finally felt her relying on me.

Shepard needed me to lead her the rest of the way. She was too frustrated to see the details.

The details were so clear to me, because of how different she and I were. I grew up knowing how to love. I had watched my parents and learned so much from them, for better or worse. Shepard didn't have the same upbringing as me. So it was no wonder she couldn't see this. She couldn't have known.

After everything she'd gone through, it was a miracle she'd gotten this far with me at all.

I definitely didn't have room to be selfish or impatient with her. Not with this.

So I suggested, "Would it help if I give you something to imagine? Something to fantasize about. Something to…kind of think about, while you take me."

"What, like role-playing?" she asked, actually sounding open to the idea.

"Emotionally, yeah," I replied. "I spent a lot of time in this bed, fantasizing about you. From day one, I would always think about the same thing… It would always get me off, every single time. I had to stop punishing myself for dwelling on it, no matter how impossible it seemed. What mattered most to me was that it felt right. I couldn't deny that. Once I stopped fighting it, everything fell into place."

Shepard's breathing slowed. Her face heated up way more, wanting me. She knew what this was about.

She loved that I had no brakes, no filter whatsoever.

She loved that I chose not to hold back with her, especially now.

She loved that we were such opposites in a lot of ways, even with this challenge.

Closer, so much closer, I held her to me; I slipped this image into her ear, whispering the sights, the fantasy—"Pretend that we're married. Pretend that I'm your devoted wife. Pretend like we're trying, like you're desperate. Give me that feeling straight from your heart. I don't want you to think anymore."

The second Shepard started shaking in my arms, I knew I had this right.

She knew I wanted more than just pretending, in reality.

We didn't have to talk about that now.

"Ashley, I'm not…wearing one of those."

"Then put it on, Shepard. My closet's right there. Link yours to mine—and then wear it for me." I smiled against her more the harder she breathed, listening to those echoes of her silence through her heated ear. "I'll take my meds and go shower when we're done. I promise. It's way too soon for us to actually go through with anything. I just want to be with you like this tonight. Exactly like this. Make that wish come true for me."

I knew she wanted to ask me why.

Why this.

Why now.

Why with her.

She knew this was about way more than some cheap thrills for me.

She knew that now was the perfect time for us to feel closer, for that wish to feel real.

She knew she was everything I could ever want in a person, and so much more.

I could tell, though—she needed just a little bit more from me, if not those obvious answers.

Draping my arms around Shepard's strong, stiffened shoulders, I let her feel this shape of my touch in true devotion. I got the response I wanted when she relaxed a little, letting me kiss her neck in this same way, this same shape, this same meaning. Blinding my senses away from Liara's psychotic threats, I blinded myself against this long, sheened sheet of Shepard's hair, so beautiful and healthy. Ignoring the memories of Liara's mind-ending insinuations, I ignored the way Shepard wouldn't let herself fully exist here with me, since she was at least willing to try with me, trying. Hating these constant images of Liara making me bleed out my heart's strongest ambitions, I hated that Shepard wasn't just mine, she wasn't only mine, no matter how hard I loved her and how powerful these ambitions of mine were: to be absolutely everything for her.

Especially this, in the future. When we were both ready; when the time was right.

Not if—definitely when.

"Shepard, you don't have to say anything tonight," I soothed, whispering just over this thunder of her pulse. "You don't have to look at me, either. Go put it on. Wear whatever else you're most comfortable in. Let yourself live in this moment with me." This view out of the corner of my eye, of the endless expanse of stars outside my window as the Normandy drifted on: Shepard was way more to me than any of those dying lights, of those lesser lives out there compared to her, billions and billions. "I know you're scared. I know you don't want to show me that. So let me take over. Let me do this for you. Let me pull the rest of this love out from you. I want to. I really do. Just give me another chance. Please…"

As simple as breathing, Shepard nodded.

She made me smile so much, willing herself to be imperfect like this for me.

I let her go for now, watching her walk over to my holo-closet along the wall, near the window. Those wandering stars outside shined over Shepard's tall, lean body in a stunning contemplation. Her own thinking, her own contemplation brimmed as she changed into her usual boyish tank top and sweatpants, her comforts. Those simple, solid colors. That wordless dominance, and that control of hers in always having something on, never letting herself be fully exposed to me—I had no idea why I liked it so much, to the point where I pulled off my own shirt, leaving my bra and tights pants on, for now.

Once she was done, Shepard kept standing there.

Facing the wall.

Breathing there, trying to find her balance through this new experience.

I actually wanted to keep her off her game, out of her element. I needed the upper-hand over her tonight.

I went over to Shepard, approaching her.

Walking right behind her, I paid close attention to the way she listened to me, listening to my bare footsteps; finding my intentions this way.

When I reached her, I held her close to me again, wrapping my arms around this styled dip of her hips, so sexy.

Listening to Shepard's reactions to me, so quietly off-balance, I pressed my face along her bare shoulder, level with me. I smelled this wonderfully smooth and smart scent of hers through her skin shining in this lightless lighting, her complexion bronzed and naturally moisturized to perfection. From the way I held her, my hands roaming down her front, she had to know that she was the only real source of light here in this room. She had to know that she was the light of my life: the only one I wanted this sun with.

Reaching down between her, over her sweatpants, I grinned against Shepard's shoulder.

"This is perfect, you know," I teased, rounding my hands over her, so rigid in her need. "I love that I can make you this hard. I love that you have no control over it. You just can't resist me, can you?" Rounding more, protruding more: Shepard didn't have that under-armor of hers on. I could feel her freely like this beneath the fabric of her sweats, with only her tight boxer briefs there underneath. "Whenever we do manage to go back home, settle down…I'm not gonna stop doing this. I'm not letting you get comfortable with me, either. There's no way we're growing old and boring together. No complacency."

Grabbing Shepard by her hardened shoulders, I spun her around.

Facing me again, I pushed her up against the wall, pulling these stronger exhales from out of her.

She wouldn't look at me, the brights of her striking eyes edged away like crescent glows.

I couldn't mind that at all.

Not with her bulging against me like this, harder and harder the more I smoothed my touch over her.

In the last of Shepard's resistances, she couldn't resist this. She couldn't resist this shape of my hand roaming over her sweatpants, with my short, rounded nails reaching through to her. Exploring in purpose, finding more of her: she could have bucked her knees at any second, listening to me breathe in her ear like this. I had to angle my head up just right to make it happen, but I fucking knew she loved this feeling of my lips over her skin, all as a preview for what I needed to do to her, right in this room, right now.

I reminded her in a smirking whisper, "You can't hide from me, Shepard. Not like this. Not in the way you need me. There's no denying it." Reaching under this elastic band over her waist, I leveled my palm against her boxer briefs, against the outline of this folded opening; Shepard clawed against the wall behind her. "No matter how close we are, I'll never stop pushing you. You have my promise that I'm always gonna be here for you like this. And I want you to feel higher all the time, every time."

Getting down on my knees, I pulled her dick out, whipping it right out between her briefs and sweats.

Rock-hard as Shepard was, I took her in my mouth, halfway first: savoring this make-believe candy of her skin, flavored as her hormones and her essence, just like this. Smirking more, savoring more, these extra tastes of her quieted groans and controlled growls rumbled through to my tongue, to my hands gripping her base, bass thrumming. Strumming deeper, I rocked my taste back and forth against this metaphor of her, so damn stubborn and unyielding, softened only by my breath and my tongue, wetting.

Stubborn and unyielding as ever, Shepard couldn't look at me smirking up at her like this. She stared up at the ceiling of my room, finding the remnants of my fantasies stuck against the surface there. She dug her nails harder into the wall, pushing the back of her head there; gasping her breaths out.

She felt this shape of me over this shape of her, shaping her more against the top of my mouth, the suck of my tongue, and this space I kept, careful to keep my teeth away, all the way away from her. She felt it all, back and forth, up and down—the way she vacuumed the breath from my mouth and throat both—commanding all of me in this space she took up, deeper and deeper in my control.

And I didn't stop.

Breathing enough when I got the chance, I didn't let anything stop me.

Not even when we heard someone knocking at my door, turning me on way more.

"Ashley, are you still in there?" called Tali, knocking again. "Wrex and Garrus are here with me. We just finished eating dinner. You're not busy, are you?"

Making a point, I kept on staring up at Shepard's suffocated struggling, taking more of her in my mouth, as far as I could fit her with her sweatpants and boxer briefs in my way. Suffocating myself in this perfect pain, I worked my jaws as hard as they would go. Needing to suck off Shepard's fucking restraint, I kept doing this. Needing to let her know just how much I wanted everyone to see me right now, down on my knees like this for her, I kept going.

Making a stronger point, I fit this sloped head of her against my throat, slipping this slope down, deeper.

Only when Shepard steeled her fists, ramming against the wall behind her in that damned restraint did the others pick up on this.

I heard Garrus' hushed tones, speculating; Wrex chuckling in agreement.

Just barely, I heard Tali snap at them in her own denials, thinking way too highly of me.

Louder, I worked this open-mouthed way to breathe around Shepard's hard throbbing, as messy as it was: soaked of me, soaked of her, everything mixed together in this thickening taste of her unique, elevated flavor, of a lukewarm, sugarless honey. She thought I didn't notice, but I spotted the way she got even harder, listening to Tali's voice out there. It just spurred me on, making me curious. I couldn't care how much of a mess I was right now. I couldn't give a damn about how much my whole mouth had started to hurt, down to my skull. Starving for her, dehydrated for her, for every second I had spent without her like this, I moaned in this nourishing delight, pushing her, pushing myself more for her.

Tali went on, making Shepard harder, harder, and harder, "Okay, well…we'll be in my room watching movies together. You're free to join us if you want!"

Wrex chuckled more. "Think we've got a pretty good movie going right here."

Garrus cleared his throat, sounding farther and farther away as those sounds echoed, as he walked down the hall, away from my room.

"Wrex, what are you talking about?" retorted Tali, as but a heated whisper, like she seriously thought I couldn't hear her. Shepard fought not to groan too much, knuckles whiting out in her control. "I don't hear them! Besides, why would Shepard do anything with Ashley down here instead of in her private cabin? She knows that my room is right next door. They wouldn't risk this…"

"That helmet of yours must be in the way," explained Wrex, just as quiet; just as convinced I couldn't hear him. "It's subtle, see. They're actually trying to be quiet. You hear those sucking sounds?"

Making a point of her own, Shepard grabbed the back of my head, gripping my scalp through my hair.

She tried to pull me into her, tried to pull my control away, to choke me instead of letting me suck her.

I pushed her wrists away, pulling myself off and out, once, only to catch my breath.

Then I dived right back into her, submerging myself in this hypnotizing taste of hers, driving her harder.

Tali sounded closer, quieter. "No…I don't hear any sucking," she whispered, probably pressing her head against my door. Smirking way too much now—I knew for a fact that Shepard was trying not to fantasize about Tali too much. And it was perfect. "Oh—wait. I think I can hear them now… That sounds like Ashley, doesn't it?"

"Sure does. I bet she's giving Shepard a hard time, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, maybe I do know…"

When Shepard tried to control me again, I pushed her hands away.

I pinned her thin wrists against the damned wall this time, keeping her locked against her claw marks there.

Lifting myself higher, still on my knees before her, I angled my neck up to push my head down against her, lower and lower. Lower, deeper, I made sure Shepard knew how tight my throat felt wrapped around her. I made sure she knew how much I craved her, obsessing over every angle of her, every vein of her, every pulse of her thundering against my tongue. I made sure she fucking knew that I couldn't breathe without her, that I couldn't live without her, and that I couldn't be without her. And I loved being this unprotected, without any real protection from how much she could have hurt me, destroyed me.

As much as my jaw was on fire right now, Shepard could have set me off in the same ways.

As many nights as I had spent in this room, trying not to cry over her, I felt my eyes tearing up from this pain, from this tearing—but I could take it, I could take anything Shepard needed from me, whether she looked at me or not, whether she said anything directly to me or not, whether she acknowledged me or not.

Whatever her frustrations, Shepard had me right where she wanted.

Scarring her own throat, her voice sounded exactly the way I wanted, so aggressive as she started losing it like this—"Goddamnit, Ashley…you never fucking stop. Fuck!"—spiraling, spiraling as she stood there so tall and proud, spiraling even as our voyeurs reacted as quietly as they could; spiraling into me more.

Spiraling into me, I wanted Shepard to belong to me completely.

Twisting down and turning into me, I needed this throne of her to belong to me entirely.

Throbbing harder, rumbling so deep in my mouth, before firing off: growling in a low, coarse roughness, Shepard lost it between the shape of my strongest smirk, shooting this thick warmth down through my mouth, into my throat. On my knees pained from this hard floor, I lapped her up, lapped everything up, swallowing her fully without wasting a single drop. Eager as I was, depraved as I was, I needed this so much more because she actually let go with me like this. I had to have her, all of her.

Even once Shepard was done, I still sucked her clean. I still kissed her spotless, adoring this metamorphosis.

Heaving hard there against the wall, she caught her breath, shifting from hard to soft, yet still so eager for me, never quite falling limp, never falling lifeless.

Immortal in her majesty—Shepard had me, forever.

I let go of her wrists, letting her blood circulation get back to normal.

Nowhere near normal after that, I stood up in a trance.

Still working to catch her breath, Shepard stared at me, her eyesight tracing the haze behind my lidded eyes.

Tracing every part of her in my view with my own eyes, I reached up to her hair, to her crown. Wiping away the sweat here, I followed whatever had drenched down to the rest of her face. I kissed those trails away, loving even this taste of her, even this saltwater, this brine of her, exclusively of her.

I whispered over her skin, "I love you, Shepard. I love you so much…" Worshiping her more, I moaned over this second metamorphosis between us, against me—the way Shepard only needed these moments to recharge, steadily getting right back to her mast. "Take me back to bed. Fucking take me, please…" Pulling more from my begging, Shepard caressed her hands up and down my bare waist, my back; snapping my bra off from me, effortless. "Do it exactly the way you had in mind that night. However you wanted to have me when you were here, give it to me this time. Show me."

Tossing my bra aside somewhere, Shepard finally gave into me.

Taking my tight pants off and the rest of me at once, Shepard finally stopped thinking.

I pressed my hands against the wall as she did this, keeping my balance here. Even as she knelt down to the floor, pulling these fabrics off from me, I felt her keeping my balance, too, in the way she held onto my legs with her free arm, locking me here in a reliable lightness. Balanced more, I ran my fingertips along the wall, grasping the clawed marks from her nails gnashed there in strength.

Devoted to me, desperate for me, Shepard carried me to bed in a wanton hurry. Not too reckless, not too inconsiderate, she still took her time in setting me down here, completely bare as I was, keeping my head from hitting the top bunk shielding us here. She only stopped one more time to slip off her sweatpants, kicking them away, before she lunged her body over mine, urgent in her need.

Right away, Shepard surprised me—she slipped her arms beneath both of my legs, lifting. She earned my surprise in every sound like this, knowing who could easily hear me, and not caring; Shepard lifted my legs up to the overhead bunk, slipping herself here against me. Hooking the bends of my legs over her shoulders, she draped me here, my skin over hers, her hard insistence over my slick warming.

Completely deep, all the way—she let me receive her like this, let me take her in at this opened angle.

Unrestrained, I breathed out her name, shaping my voice just like her effort, just like her loving care.

Only able to wrap my arms around her neck, down to her back, I held her like this, closer and closer.

Shepard went for me, in and in and in, constantly deeper, like she was part of me, an extension of me.

Patience rewarded: thoughtless in her love, she gave me this with a creativity fermented over time, giving it to me now, now that I wanted it, now that she couldn't stop herself anymore. Fucking me without rushing, loving me as her one and only in this playing, Shepard had fallen into this experiment as much as I had fallen into the fantasy on my own. She let me pull her in more, so much deeper, as deep as she was inside of me, down to the roots of her, turning me into all she had grown into tonight. Growing thicker in me each time she moved, each time she breathed through me, I shuddered underneath her with this feeling, this minor soak of her starting to slip through me, wading.

Wading through my emotions with eyes closed, Shepard kept her lips over mine, echoing her groans into me. Traces of words unspoken, I felt the way she wanted to speak, to tell me something, to share these sentiments sticking against her throat. She needed my words first, needed to hear me first.

This emotive pulsing of her body's weight over mine, of her pulsing inside of me—I had to tell her:

"Don't ever let me go, Shepard," I obsessed, deep and rhythmic with her absolute effort. "I'm not letting you go. I can't let you go. I can't let anyone else have you. I can't… I won't." She lost herself in me, more, triggering me higher. Gripping her harder against me, I obsessed more in this perfect harmony of her movements, working for me: "You belong to me. You're mine. You're fucking mine and no one else's. I don't care who else wants you… They all had their chance. You're seriously mine—do you hear me?"

Panting against me, hot and humid in her subservience to me—"Yes… Yes, babe, I hear you…"

Needing more than that, I pushed her as she kept pushing into me, divine in the way she made me feel, made me so uniquely hers—"Tell me you won't let me go. Tell me you're mine; tell me you belong to me and only me." Having lost my mind over her a long time ago, I felt such a twisted delight over listening and feeling Shepard do the same, for me, after all this time. "I'm sick of hiding how possessive I am over you. I hate pretending like you aren't the single most important being in my life… I don't give a damn if you never act like I'm the same for you—I just need to own you, all of you. So tell me—"

Sharper, at the right note, Shepard went at me so much harder.

Harder, louder—she made me react to her, pulling these heated emotions right out from me.

Blinded by her light, I felt my chest about to split open from how much she inspired me, from how much I couldn't let it out, no matter how much I tried.

Unthinking as a reflex, I trapped this gathering heat behind my eyes wide shut, swelling as thickly as I felt Shepard inside of me, exuding more, emanating more, her soul as seed.

"Ashley, I'm yours," she told me, her voice so close to breaking. "I belong to you—you have me. I'm never letting you go—never letting you go."

Weaker and weaker, she made me so fucking weak for her.

Repeating her words, repeating her declarations to me like her body repeating these same motions: "I love you, Ash. I love you, I love you, I love you…" Again and again with her thrusts, Shepard wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop obsessing over me, wouldn't stop elevating me; she wouldn't stop repeating this, repeating this in-time with her thrusts, as deep as she was inside of me; as deep as her words had reached in me, pulling these streams down my eyes, with my throat sore and rasping from the rest I let out for her. "I love you more than anyone—more than anything I can conceive. I'll give you anything, Ashley, anything—anything you want. Whatever you need, it's yours. Anything of me belongs to you. I belong to you. Just please don't ever leave me—I need you, all that you are, all of you."

Her promises, her out-of-control begging, as reflexive as my expressiveness, everything:

Clinging to Shepard's words, clinging to her all the way inside of me, I rode this for as long as I could.

So much more than getting me off, this heaven with her surpassed everything, anything. Threads between us binding, throbbing hardest through me, thickened roping as liquid heat—Shepard gave me this risk in totality, owning me, gripping me, filling me with her, all of her. Such a dreamless dream, fulfilling me as much as she filled me, marking me as hers in this single, carnal way I had craved for so long, guilty in how much this had gripped my mind.

Transcending my guilt, my old pain, my lonely nights and years without her—this made up for it all, way more than I ever could've imagined.

All that I was, I held Shepard closer to me once I could, once she let me situate my legs back down.

As she did, I let her kiss away this weakness from my face, cathartic in this special starry sight of her.

This time, though, I was the one who didn't want her to look at me.

Now that Shepard was like this, I almost couldn't stand it.

Lighter in receptiveness to me, yet somehow way more intense in her emotions—this was a lot to handle, especially after what she'd given me, so unexpected. Unexpected, since I hadn't expected her to let go with me like that, not even after the scene I had set up, the sentiments I had shared with her.

Shepard knew.

She knew, and she didn't judge me.

Catching the last of my breath, I bought myself some convenient time. I brought my omni-tool between us, letting Shepard see this orange light glowing in the dark. Understanding, she pulled out from between me—not too fast—but still leaving me with this…void. She looked into my eyes again, and I looked into hers, sharing this transparency with her. A single activation in this pleasant sound, meds entering my system, highlighting my body, my outline: she watched as I took this first precaution, letting me keep my promises, what we had agreed on.

Cautious, I told her, "The meds should work. Just to be sure, though, I'll go take a shower…"

"Not yet, Ash," she murmured, resting over me. "Stay here for a bit first. The shower can wait for now."

I smiled in acceptance. "Okay, then. I'll go when you want me to." Already, Shepard groaned again, her weight feeling heavier against me. "Hey…you tired? We can rest for a while if you are."

"Tired…that's an understatement."

"Mmm, and why's that?"

Sleepy, adorable—Shepard laughed a little. "You pulled a lot out from me, just like you said you would… Emotionally, I'm exhausted. Never thought I could do something like that…"

"You have a lot of heart, Skipper," I expressed. "More than you showed me. More than I can imagine."

"So do you, babe," she whispered, easing the shape of her words over my lips, before falling asleep. "So do you…"

Holding her in pure safety and comfort like this, I let myself fall into the same exhaustion.

Feeling everything, opened to the universe—Shepard guarded me in her sleep, keeping those demons away from me, those reminders of someone's threats to take my eventual dreams away from me. Protecting me from those memories as she did, I still felt overwhelmed, my sight spilling more underneath her, over and over in controlled, quieted bursts, from how much all of this meant to me. From how much Shepard meant to me. From how much she made me feel, unguarded in my faith for her, even as I had to cling to her in this suddenness as we slept. Suddenness, hitting me like a flash of lightning, of how scared I was of losing her now, now that we were way closer like this.

Closer, closer, as oxygen intertwined to share: I couldn't breathe without her. I couldn't be without her. I couldn't function without her.

Dreaming in peace with me, Shepard kept those nightmares away as a dream catcher for me, ethereal in this misting gold of her everlasting light.

(Shepard)

Dreamless sleep, deadened to all.

This small measure of peace in rest.

This reassurance that I could finally forget myself, not worrying about all that I had outsourced.

Outsourcing responsibility, my own identity, my emotions: I didn't know if I was a real person, or just a mass of ideas of what everyone else wanted me to be. I couldn't know who I actually was. Not beyond my anger, my frustrations. Not outside of my defense mechanisms, my failures, and my mistakes.

For everything else—I was what she wanted me to be.

Her eyes were my mirror.

Her mind was my universe.

Her belief in me was my will.

Without her…who was I?

"Shepard!"

Panic in Ashley's voice, in her hold on me rising up, submerged in water, and then breaking the surface:

Breaking me out of my sleep, out of my paralysis—

"Shepard!" cried Ashley, still underneath me in her bed. "Shepard, you have to wake up! The ship's under attack!"

She shook me awake one more time, one last time, anticipating.

Halfway awake, awake enough—my eyes shot open, wider, finding Ashley here with me, her room aglow in an emergency-red. Fire alarms blaring throughout the Normandy, I felt the heat of an open flame encroaching from another room somewhere among the crew's quarters. By sheer luck, it wasn't Ashley's room. By sheer luck, everything around us still looked in-tact, except for this terror here in Ashley's eyes staring up at me. Still bare to all, she hadn't moved, hadn't left to save herself after I wouldn't wake up before. She waited for me to find my awareness, refusing to leave without me.

This all seemed normal at first—the red, the flames, the alarms, the destruction—all as a regular manifestation of Ashley herself.

This fear in her blazing eyes and bare skin was anything but normal, making me react.

I shot my head up, trying to get out of this bunk.

Anticipating this already, Ashley cradled my head, keeping me from knocking my skull against the top bed. As she did, I found my gratitude for her between this blazing situation. I situated myself off from her, letting Ashley find and put on her clothes scattered across the room. Her armor was still in her locker, accessible from the mess hall, from the cargo hold. I had to get her outside so she could suit up.

Exhaustion creeping down my chest, I forced myself over to Ashley's holo-closet.

Doubt and nihilism slowing me, I barely remembered to put my toy away, to get rid of this distraction.

Malfunctioned senses, skewed priorities: I could hear that Ashley had already thrown on her clothes, able to move as normal even with these occasional, rocking quakes from the ship.

I was about to put on my stealth suit out of habit, still out of it.

Instead, I navigated to my full N7 light armor linked to my breather helmet.

While I did this, I heard a loud, urgent knocking at the door.

Barefoot in her clothes, Ashley crossed the room and opened the door in suddenness.

Right after I changed into my light armor and helmet, sight slotted and obscured, I watched Ashley glare at Liara in a restrained awe. Already in her own armor and helmet, Liara only stared back at Ashley in a muted worry, having already known that I would be here. But even in the middle of this mess, they seemed to find a quiet understanding with one another, despite the lingering edge about them.

Going over to them, I held Ashley around her waist to support her.

Kinetic barriers reinforced for extra protection, Liara glowed in a bright violet hue, trying to stay calm.

"Shepard, Joker's still alone in the cockpit," she informed me. "He won't evacuate."

I reassured her, "Don't worry about that. I'll go deal with him after I activate the distress beacon."

Liara knew what she had to do.

She knew that I trusted her with this, infinitely so.

Through her helmet, something in her eyes was about to break: she didn't want to leave me.

And I didn't want her to go, either—but we didn't have time for this.

"Liara, get everyone to the escape pods," I ordered, firm in my reliance on her. "We'll meet up with you soon, all right?"

Finding her resolve, Liara regarded me in earnest. "Aye, aye," she complied, leaving down the hall, to Tali's room next door.

With no time to waste, I left with Ashley to the mess hall, getting her to her armor locker. Not wanting to take any chances on the way there, I guarded her with my shielded form as much as I could, still supporting Ashley around her waist as we went. The ship wouldn't stop tilting. The enemy attacking us wouldn't stop. Electrical fires had already broken out in the kitchen. Everywhere else, exposed wires started hanging from the ceiling, from the walls, sparking out in zaps and thick smoke. Overhead sprinklers shot out coned showers of water to no avail—they couldn't keep up for something like this.

At the lockers, I let Ashley put on her own armor and breather helmet of red and black.

No time for fetishes.

No time for comfort.

No time for anything aside from standing against her as Ashley did this, making sure she didn't lose her balance in the process.

Soon enough, Tali rounded the corner with Wrex and Garrus, hurrying over here to the lockers with us. Tali reinforced her enviro-suit with her layer of light armor; Garrus and Wrex scrambled to get their breather helmets on.

"Shepard, Ashley!" shouted Tali over the alarms. "It's good to see you're safe! Liara's still waking the rest of the crew. I think we'll be able to make it in time!"

Set to go in her helmet and armor, Ashley agreed, "Yeah, here's hoping! We should be okay!"

"All of you, get to the evac shuttles," I told them. "I'll activate the distress beacon nearby, then get up to the helm to force Joker out of here."

Tali protested, "But—what if something happens to you? We should go together!"

Wrex countered, "Tali, we have to get going! Let Shepard handle it!"

"Wrex is right!" agreed Garrus. "We have our orders! Come on, let's not put up a fight in the middle of an emergency!"

Trying anyway, fighting anyway—"Shepard, I'm not leaving you or Ashley like this!"

"Tali, there's no time!" I fought back. "I need you to get to safety instead of arguing with me! I won't risk anything happening to you! Get to those escape pods! Get the hell out of here! Now!"

Paining me, Tali's emotions carried through even as Wrex and Garrus carried her off, away from here.

Ashley stayed rooted to the spot.

Billowing smoke crowding through this crimson red: she stared at me with clear eyes, clear intentions.

I could either waste time arguing with her, or I could let her come with me.

I grabbed Ashley's hand.

I brought her with me down this long corridor past the mess hall, past the burning kitchen, and down to the very end of this area near the life support pods. Interacting with the control panel, I launched the distress beacon, hoping that the Alliance would make it here in time. While I did this, Ashley had my back, using the fire extinguisher in her hands to put out the pockets of burning embers behind me, keeping our path clear. Those showering sprinklers between the mazes of hanging wires above, however persistent, weren't enough—not with these constant explosions going off, spreading the storms thicker and harsher all around.

Another explosion nearly knocked me back.

Prepared, Ashley stayed behind me, grabbing me and keeping me from falling over an open flame.

As alert as she had been these days, it only made sense that she was somehow ready for this.

I held her hand again, leaving back down this corridor together to find Joker, to get him out of here.

Joker's message sounded with the distress beacon, "Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is SSV Normandy! We've suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy!"

Burning memories, shooting flames, constant seismic movements—I could barely walk in a straight line, thrown off second by second by what had become of the crew deck, what had become of the ship. No time for sentimentality, or to linger here, anywhere: I held Ashley's hand tighter as I led her across, and as she supported me in her sturdier steps. I pushed forward, stopping only when some force blew me back. Every time, Ashley stopped me in place as my rock, stopping us from having to slow down more than absolutely necessary.

Up these spiraled steps blinking in warning red, guiding us up—I brought Ashley up the only way we could go. The other stairwell remained blocked by those hanging wires and flames burning way too strong, and so we had to walk up from this side. That blinking red reflected off of these shining walls. I felt everything about to collapse on us, about to cave in. Only by some miracle did everything hold together, staying strong for our escape.

"Come on, baby," coaxed Joker, willing the ship to listen to him. "Hold together. Hold together!"

Opening the door to the CIC, to what was left of it: oxygen sucked out to that vacuum of space. Emergency lighting of the ship's interior fell away, overshadowed by what awaited us out here. Overhead, we found the enormous size and light of the nearest planet, observing us through the wreckage of the Normandy's half-broken hull. That mass of snow as a sphere among stars—it stared down at us in a bright, pale contemplation, like an oversized moon, cut by the sheared metals and scraps of what the command center had turned into, barely protecting us from our insignificance.

Even in soundlessness here, I could imagine Ashley's gasp of consciousness as much as I felt it through her hand, through this feeling of her sharp inhale wiring through to me, from everything hitting her at last.

Slowed in this dubious gravity, I walked with Ashley, leading her forward through this brightened vastness.

She held my hand tighter, as tight as she could, signaling her love for me.

I returned and signaled the same, burning with this as much as the rest of the Normandy did.

Past the collapsed mess of the galaxy map, past the debris from the ship floating by up above, past this uneven metal floor leveled by the attack—I brought Ashley with me through it all, over to the bridge. Wreckage of consoles and more torn wires sparking in a powered futility, this graveyard of chairs hovered in our way in the insecure gravity around us. I moved the chairs out of our way, hardly needing to make contact with them before they drifted off on their own. Through more of the same story, hollowing me out all the more, we made it across the bridge, over to the exposed build of the cockpit and the nearby escape pod.

Misted violet haze of the ship's lone kinetic barrier: Joker sat at the helm behind his console aglow in those golden lights. Frantic, his hands scattered across the controls, trying and trying to save the ship, my ship, his home, our home away from home—

Ashley rushed ahead and over to him. "Come on, Joker!" she ordered. "We have to get out of here!"

"No, Ash!" fought Joker. "I won't abandon the Normandy! I can still save her!"

Somewhere out there past the ship's splintered hull, I saw a gigantic rock-like cruiser approaching, returning; preparing another attack as its firing chambers glowed in a powerful menace of lighted preparation. Firing at the Normandy in precision, the enemy cut through again: too close to us, the immediate area behind us, detonating in combusting flames. More scraps, more sparking, more metal twisting and and creaking and breaking beneath the weight of that power trying to destroy us.

My willpower couldn't protect me from something like this.

No time—I went over to the opposite side of Joker's chair, pulling him out by his arm.

Ashley grabbed his other arm, working with me to get him the hell out of here.

Joker groaned out in pain, complaining, but still limping with us to the escape pod anyway.

Getting Joker into his seat, Ashley and I both made sure he pulled down his over-the-shoulder restraints, safely locking him in place in this small, cramped space.

Putting Ashley first, before myself, always, I helped her into the seat across from him.

Uncooperative—her restraints locked up halfway, half-down over her torso.

Her groans of frustration—she couldn't pull the steel all the way down on her own.

Pushing down on them with her, pushing: time began to pause between this destruction, slowing to a gradual stop.

Knowing the Normandy as well as I did, I felt her last defenses about to fall. I felt her final weaknesses about to show, with that ship in the near-distance refusing to relent, determined to take us all out, no matter how long it took.

My shaking hands, my sight blurring in my knowledge, my decisions, my emotions: I tightened my grip around this rounded steel of Ashley's main protection, forcing it to obey. Forcing it to do as I needed. Forcing it to keep Ashley safe, keeping her from harm, keeping her from the pain of death that I was prepared to face in her stead.

I had to protect her one last time.

Ashley calmed once I helped her secure her over-the-shoulder restraints at last.

Locking down, satisfying, I let myself breathe out once, in my relief, knowing that she would be just fine. She would be okay without me.

As I had prepared for, and could not save myself from in time—as Ashley reached for my hand, to pull me into the escape pod with her and Joker, the rest pulled me back out.

One last explosion, one last implosion, interruption.

Staggering me away in powerlessness, my feet no longer reached the ground.

Blasts of meaning across my meaninglessness in this tearing, twisted place; rages of golden light gunning through this other home I had known across this deployment, housing so much growth and recession in me, receding now; manipulations of my own body, forcing me across and around with no ground, boundlessness ending me, sending me higher up to these unspoken stars; soundless screams of my name from Ashley and Joker as the escape pod shut them off from me, and departed, carrying them away, to safety, to the only place I could ever want them to be.

Away from me.

Far away from me.

So far, so far away, at least for now.

So far away, for the time being, only for us to meet up again soon on this snowy planet staring down at us as this powerful light, passive in capability, passive in perceiving.

Spaced.

Alone.

Silence.

Cradled only from afar by these last scraps of the Normandy, of that metal that had cut at me. Cutting away at my armor that had kept me safe, and these connectors, this tubing: my oxygen supply diffused away beyond my power, beyond my capabilities. Arching back into this pain of my breaths sucked out from my lungs, my equipment failing me—failing like this, failing, as I saw the ship's escape pods through my failing sight, edging toward this planet's orbit for us to all meet up again, soon. So soon, as I suffered this drawn-out pain of death without them, without Liara, without Tali, without Ashley, without the rest of my team and the rest of the galaxy that had believed in me. Without anyone.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe without her…

Ashley, my second-in-command, safe to live another day, and to survive without me—forever proud of her, I trusted her to stand on my shoulders. I needed her to lead the crew onward to victory, and to protect the galaxy in my stead. To stand atop the ashes of my failure. To carry on my legacy. To find another way.

I believed in her with all of my heart, with this failing heart of mine, running out of oxygen, running out of time.

Steeled as I suffocated out, I fell to this planet's horizon in my final strength.

Strong for this last measure of peace, dissipating to the dawn's light, burning through this atmosphere.

Never burning out my heart's star in her beautiful light, these flames for her never-ending.

Everlasting.