Requiem of the Goddess

by Yoshiyuki Ly

Goddess of mind, goddess of heart - closed-off without consent, She cannot flourish; unlocked to the universe in trust and control, She protects from all outside influences. Only one sits atop the throne of Shepard's subjectivity. Ashley/FemShep, Liara/FemShep. Miranda/FemShep, Aria/FemShep. Power plays, intense loves. Renegon Infiltrator FemShep. Spans the Mass Effect Trilogy.

20. Watch the World Burn - ME2

Mass Effect 2

"Watch the World Burn" from The Dark Knight

XX. Watch the World Burn

(Liara)

Landing on this unknown planet thick with snow, our escape pods from the Normandy had all blanketed the surrounding area within this freezing cold, burrowed here together.

Enclosed within this limited space, I sat with Dr. Chakwas and a few of the ship's other remaining crewmembers. Still finding our bearings after the sudden attack in the night, after the complete destruction of the Normandy, and after our arrival here, none of us spoke a word. We merely stayed here, the stubborn cold from outside steadily seeping through, forcing some of us to shiver in our reflection, our contemplation. I had managed to wake everyone I could, escorting as many of the crew as possible to the escape shuttles. I hadn't been able to save the unfortunate few that had died from the explosions on our way out. Most of us had survived. This was more than I could have hoped for.

Vaguely positive feelings shielding me from this glacial environment, reinforcing my armor: I felt Shepard somewhere on this planet with us. She had successfully evacuated with Joker and Ashley in that case…

Then again, the more I thought about this, the less certain I was.

But if she hadn't escaped, then why did I continue to feel her as normal? Nothing had changed at all.

Despite how normal this felt, a sense of foreboding began to dig into me, far deeper than the cold.

Dissonant in these echoes of the lost, my reliance on Shepard held me in this stable stasis, still dispossessed.

The rest of the crew here with me soon agreed: we needed to find the others, to make sure they were all right. It would likely be some time before the Alliance responded to our distress signal. We needed to be certain that no one would be left behind once that time arrived.

Exiting our escape pod, this planet's pale morning welcomed us. A cold brightness, clear skies, auroras glowing in green and multicolored waves: such a peaceful sight surrounded us despite our situation, despite the unknowns. I helped the immediate crew step out to the snow with me, out to the rising crags of pure ice looking down on us. No sign of other life anywhere, at least not here outside in this temperature—I figured we wouldn't run afoul of any hostiles, though I remained alert nonetheless, ready to use my pistol or my biotics if necessary to protect the non-combatants among our crew.

In the nearest escape pod, I found Engineer Adams with the crewmembers who had accompanied him during our escort. Dr. Chakwas checked everyone individually for any signs of injury from the escape, even as she shuddered from the cold in her relatively thin science clothing. Not too far away, I heard the sounds of another pod opening, with Garrus, Wrex, and Tali making their way out together. I smiled once I saw them, relieved that they were all right.

"Liara!" called Tali, hurrying through the snow to reach me. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

I let myself smile more as she embraced me. "Thank the goddess you're safe, Tali! Are you hurt at all?"

"Somehow, I made it out of there without any suit punctures. I should be fine."

Wrex trudged over to us, looking unharmed. "Good to see you in one piece, Liara," he said.

"I'll say," added Garrus, also seeming well. "That was one hell of an attack… Watching the Normandy fall to pieces like that on our way down here…I'll never forget it. Any idea what that enemy ship was?"

None of us knew enough to even speculate.

Wordless, we accepted that this was quite beyond us at the moment.

There were still a handful of escape shuttles scattered around within walking distance.

And we had yet to find everyone.

Needing to keep moving to ignore this cold, Tali, Wrex, and Garrus followed me as we tallied the rest of the survivors. I did not sense Shepard anywhere among these. She felt as if she was quite a distance away from us. What I did feel from her seemed somewhat stagnant as well. As if something had happened to her, and she was not herself. As if she hadn't evacuated safely in time, arriving here in a different way…

I dreaded the worst once we found Joker and Ashley together in their escape pod—without Shepard.

"Ashley, Joker!" cried Tali, relieved as we reached them. "You both made it!"

Unable to respond, Ashley and Joker merely sat there in their seats. Over-the-shoulder restraints removed, the pair of them stared out at nothing—inside their space, outside to the snow where we were—without saying a word. Shell-shocked and shaking somewhat, not even the cold truly reached them, let alone Tali's words to warm them from their deadened trances.

Tali noticed: "Wait… Where is Shepard? Shouldn't she be here with you?"

Joker pulled down on his SR-1 cap, hiding his face in shame. Blaming himself.

Ashley remained still, unreadable from behind her helmet. Processing without processing anything.

Tali staggered back, well-aware of the implications here.

Garrus turned away from us, unable to face this probable outcome.

Unwilling to give up, Wrex asked me, "Liara, remember back on Feros when you knew where Shepard went? Think you can find her again? Whatever happened…she's gotta be here. Right?"

"Yes, I sense that she is on this planet," I informed everyone. "I can pinpoint her exact location."

Bursting to life, Ashley exited the escape pod. "Then what are we waiting for? We have to find her!"

Joker agreed, though he could not admit as much. The shame of losing the ship, of possibly losing Shepard, and of not being able to get out from his seat—he said nothing as Wrex gently pulled him outside, assisting him more as we pressed on.

Everyone assumed that there was hope. For if I could still feel Shepard in this way, then she was alive.

That was what they believed.

That was what I also wanted to believe. I continued to feel her by my side as if nothing had changed.

Aside from this stagnant feeling from wherever I sensed Shepard's actual body, everything was fine…

We gathered the rest of the crew and set off at once. The group followed me as I led them through these winding paths of ice and snow. So-called shooting stars crested across the sky in brightness, in such beautiful mirrors of the team's hopes. Their hopes of finding Shepard miraculously alive, even after the unavoidable damage she had to have suffered after reaching the planet's atmosphere. Their hopes of finding Shepard barely holding on after such damage, believing her to be invincible, an organic god.

Godly in destruction—we found the wreckage of the Normandy first, the scraps of metal and wiring clawing out above the snowy horizon.

Everyone stopped before this sight, disbelieving.

Scattered throughout this open location, the light snow powdered over the ship's remains. Gentle, delicate, this weather observed our collective mourning over the loss of our united home. Broken and destroyed, what was left of the Normandy cragged across this ice and fresh snow, parts and pieces in large and small chunks, together and separated, joined and splintered. Recognizable sections of the bridge, the mess hall, the crew's quarters, the cargo hold, and even Shepard's private cabin: these had collapsed everywhere, the finest ship in the Alliance military kept as cohesive as possible, if only for this.

Dog tags of stainless steel distributed among this wreckage—the rest of the crew began to collect these, taking stock of the fallen, of those we hadn't been able to save.

Joker, Ashley, Tali, Garrus, and Wrex remained with me.

Hopes dwindling with their footsteps crunching through the snow, I led them to the center of the area.

Covered by a thin coat of snowfall as she lay upon the ground: there was that distinctive black armor she never wore, except for this. Motionless, only the slight cracks and opening in that armor and helmet breathed to the environment around her, to the slight breeze around us. Black and white, with barely-visible spots of charred skin that had burned in the atmosphere, her fate was clear before my eyes…

"Shepard!" cried Ashley, running through the snow to reach her. "Thank God it's you! Oh, thank God…"

She had to know the truth by now.

She knew, and yet her temporary relief in having found Shepard at all—this was enough.

Enough to carry Ashley to Shepard's side, down on her knees; wiping enough of that snow away in devoted work, in desperation. Tali rushed over to help, knowing the same, yet not willing to let the undeniable stop her from doing this. Weighed down by the obvious, so unavoidable, Wrex and Garrus would not, could not take another step forward to the truth. Unwilling, unable—Joker sat down right where he was, almost collapsing there. Facing away, he again curled his cap in shame, blaming himself, blaming himself as he mumbled and cursed, scolding himself for this failure.

Undeniable—the high-rising sounds of Ashley and Tali's anguish across the skies, joined, but powerless.

Just as powerless, I walked toward them, toward the way they had fallen over Shepard's body upon the ground. Her burned corpse, her remains.

Visual dissonance of what I saw before me and what I felt deep in my bones.

Cognitive dissonance of this death and this eternal living embrace from her presence within me.

Sensory dissonance from witnessing Ashley's abject agony wrecking her this way, her entire body shaking in spasms as she gripped at Shepard's armor, gripping the chain of Shepard's dog tags; and how Tali had curled against Shepard's half-exposed arm nearest to her, skin blackened to ashes, muscles reddened to a molten solid; and how I still continued to perceive Shepard as normal and well as she lay there, still viewing Shepard as normal by her echoed company in my skin, as if she had merely decided to take a nap there in her N7 armor, there in the snow.

Resting, for now.

Resting forevermore.

Two single tears slipped down my face in this dissonance, and no more.

I knelt down next to Shepard's head, her helmet having kept her in-tact. Hearing Ashley and Tali's wailing so far away from me, despite their proximity, their nearness, I stared down at Shepard's dog tags. Stainless steel shaking in Ashley's uneven grip from her body's constant spasms, uncontrollable, I saw that N7 designation on one side.

On the other side: her full name, her serial ID, her military branch, and her religious preference for her burial service…

SHEPARD, SOL
5923-AC-2826
SAMC/N
NO PREFERENCE

This was her.

This was Shepard, lifeless before me.

Lifeless, and yet this dissonance kept me in this stasis of uncertainty, not understanding.

Understanding only the loudness of Ashley's shock and despair, of her denials in how she screamed: the sounds as shattering glass, the glass of her heart and mind both shattering to pieces across this snowy landscape. Sustained by my lack of emotional understanding, I could only remain here as a spectator, eclipsed by Ashley and her misery, and even by Tali's, so very overshadowed by all that they both felt.

Listening with logic, and pained by far less, I was the first to realize when help had arrived. Another Alliance ship had responded to the Normandy's distress call, finding us here. I couldn't know how long they'd taken to reach us. I couldn't tell how much longer it took for their crew to take appropriate action: finding a body-sized pod to secure Shepard inside, sealing her from the elements, from the rest of the galaxy. I couldn't see how our own crew took to boarding this new ship, remaining by Shepard's side even as Ashley and Tali continued to sob in helplessness.

No one showed their faces during this trip to Earth, too ashamed to share even our already-collective grief with one another.

I was at least lucid enough to contact Councilor Anderson, after receiving permission from our rescuers to use their comm system. Devastated, Anderson had no room to show as much, bottling away his grief over Shepard as her surrogate father. He promised that he would meet us on Earth as soon as we arrived. Needing to act, needing to organize, and needing to lead, he pushed the rest away, offering me his condolences, before leaving the call to meet us in-person within the coming hours.

To Earth, to America, to San Diego, to the main Alliance Navy base in Shepard's hometown—this procession of Alliance soldiers and the remaining crew from the Normandy insulated Shepard in her protective pod as her temporary coffin. Allowances for this moment, for this upheaval, I was allowed to be here with Shepard, along with Tali, Garrus, Wrex, despite not belonging to the Alliance as non-humans. No one could mind that at this time. No one had the heart to restrict us from any of this, as we were all part of Shepard's team. We were all part of her legacy.

Her legacy, I still found difficult to conceive as something in the present, as reality.

I kept expecting Shepard to wake up at any moment.

I kept thinking that this was all some terrible nightmare that I had yet to wake up from.

Yet I had to come face-to-face with Shepard's legacy—in reality—once Councilor Anderson found us.

In the medical facility, enclosed from the rest of the base and the rampant speculation outside, I remained seated in this private room with the others. Sitting next to me, Tali held on to Ashley, supportive. They had both quieted their crying only from exhaustion, and not from any real lack of tears. Garrus and Wrex sat on the far end of the room, away; still unwilling to show their pain or to share it with any of us. Joker had departed elsewhere already with Dr. Chakwas, as she had sensed his intentions in his despair, and vowed to keep an eye on him, refusing to allow the worst to happen. Caring for him helped her to push through this, too.

Out-of-body, as a spectator to my own surroundings, I listened.

Calm and collected for us, Anderson sat nearest to Ashley, explaining, "They're finishing with the autopsy as we speak. I'm sure you can imagine what the results will be. We don't need to go over them if you'd rather avoid the details." Holding a copy of Shepard's dog tags in his hand, Anderson gazed down at them in thoughtfulness. "I worried that she might not have prepared for something like this. Turns out I was wrong. And thank goodness I was. As terrible as this all is…we have some structure to the madness. We don't have to run around blindly."

Sniffling, Tali asked in a small voice, "What do you mean? How could Shepard have prepared for any of this…?"

Anderson shared, "Every year, the Alliance sends out an email, making sure everyone's filled out their life insurance forms properly. It's about as standard as it gets. Leaving a name for next-of-kin and power of attorney is optional. For all her years of service, Shepard never included a name there. Not until recently." As I knew, he offered Shepard's dog tags to Ashley. "The night before Ilos, she wrote down your name. Your full name. There's no mistaking it." Leaning against Tali, still, Ashley could not stop this quieted stream from falling down her eyes over the news, over the revelation. "She left you everything in her will. Her apartment, her belongings, her fortune. All the files in her omni-tool and her credentials. Her entire estate, her legacy. These are yours now, Ashley. Please, take them."

The chain of that stainless steel chimed against Ashley's hand as she accepted Shepard's identifications, and Shepard's wishes to protect and carry on her will.

"You have authorization to decide how we'll proceed—with the media, with the burial. The Alliance and the government will want to lie her in state at the Capitol. Or you can choose to have the service here in San Diego if you prefer. It will be your decision, Ashley. Not ours. For now, we're keeping her pod in cryostasis until you settle on the logistics. Once you sign off on the transfer, we'll transport her pod to the location for her burial service. Whichever location you choose for her."

Knowing that Ashley could not find the words, Tali spoke her concerns, "How long will she have to decide? This is a lot to take in. She'll need some time to figure all of this out…"

"Yes, Tali, that's true. We'd like to give Ashley two weeks to sort through this. It isn't a true limit. Not necessarily. Shepard will be under strict surveillance. All I ask is that you take things one day at a time. Look after yourselves. Be there for one another. We'll lay her to rest once you're ready. Not a moment before."

---

Oh captain, my captain had encapsulated Ashley's reactions to all of this, to everything.

She seemed to be in a state of artistic defeat, so creatively redefining what she knew and believed.

And as much as Ashley and I had despised one another, none of that could reach me anymore. Those problems now felt insignificant, no matter how strongly they had affected us before. They couldn't compare to what we now faced today in this fraying moment, threatening to tear us apart piece by piece. At least, this was how she and the others felt, dispossessed in their own ways, each of them prepared to unravel at any given second.

Tali, Wrex, and Garrus chose to stay on the Alliance base for the time being, waiting for the service. They had their own complimentary rooms there and a shared space to mourn together in private. Waiting, grieving—they also took the time to be there for Joker, who was still under Dr. Chakwas' care in a secluded hospital room. He continued to blame himself for not reacting sooner to the attack, for not saving the Normandy, for not evacuating sooner, and for losing Shepard altogether as an unrelenting onslaught against his mind, nearly pushing him to that brink.

Even so, I trusted and believed that Joker would be all right, in time. He would find a way to pull through.

As this time passed, I still felt Shepard here with me, standing strong and tall beside me as if all was well.

Because of this, I felt that I didn't belong on the base with the others, unable to be present with them in their sorrows.

Instead, I returned to the US Grant—the hotel we had stayed in during our initial visit here while on shore leave. By some chance, I had managed to book the same room, finding some familiarity here, for better or for worse. Positive memories of sharing this room with Tali, despite my absence while I had spent most of that time exploring the city at Shepard's side; entirely negative memories of being in here with Ashley on that violent night, as she had almost pulled the worst from me without my consent, very nearly taking me there.

Ashley had removed herself from the team's collectivism as well, electing to stay alone at Shepard's apartment. Tali had fought against her decision, wishing to watch over her, and to be there for her in whatever way possible. Yet Ashley had insisted otherwise, determined to suffer through this artistry and poetry of her loss, alone; determined to at least go through this first week, as she seemed to be waiting for something, waiting for this time to pass before looking for some kind of answers. Answers for what, I could not know, but she held herself well enough in her own stasis as she waited, biding her time, needing this time.

The week passed soon enough, somehow.

Though I did not pass through it, still waiting on my own, waiting.

Waiting here in my hotel room, I sat before this view of the city outside the large windows: those brooding skyscrapers of blackened steel and gilded windows. Staring out at the everlasting light of this golden mist, I wasn't sure what I waited for, what I expected. Observing the late-afternoon light of this sunless sky, I had no idea why I felt hopeful. Taking note of the festive cheer in the air as the humans here on Earth prepared to celebrate their end-of-year holidays, I didn't know why I was glad to be here.

Laying Shepard to rest next week, most likely, was all that I could realistically wait for, or expect.

So why was I so far-removed from reality in this way?

Why had I yet to accept that Shepard was gone?

She was gone.

She was dead!

Why was I seemingly in such denial? Why did I continue to think I would see her again soon, as she had told me back on the Normandy, right before I'd departed to go save the crew on her orders? And why was I so convinced that she was, in fact, sitting right next to me, gazing out at the city's skyline in peace by my side?

Such guilt accosted me for feeling this way, for not accepting reality for what it was.

My lingering bond with Shepard had blinded me to the truth of her death, insulating me in this fantasy of her continued love and support.

Aside from when I had first found Shepard out in that snow, I hadn't cried over her at all. Nothing could come out. Nothing pierced me, unlike Ashley, who didn't have the same luxury of awareness that I did. And it was so terrible, so awful, that I simply didn't have the heart to 'check in' with Ashley, not even at a time like this. Her sorrow, even in her unspeakable patience for the time being, was much too profound for me to handle.

So far during these days that had passed, I'd only observed Ashley once.

Once, when she first returned to Shepard's apartment, alone.

This was when she had originally steeled herself with her unknown resolve, resigning herself to sit and wait, sit and wait for something, for enough time to pass. Upon arriving home, Ashley had managed to remain calm enough, even as she'd gripped Shepard's dog tags that she had chosen to wear around her neck. But as soon as she'd unlocked the door, Shepard's VI linked to her home's security system had seemed 'glad' to see her again, crumbling that steel of hers, however temporary it may have been.

"Welcome home, Lieutenant Williams," the VI had greeted in an artificial, soothing calm.

And Ashley had leaned against the wall as the door closed and locked behind her. Leaning there, sliding down, collapsing to the floor; she had broken down in tears from this single act of sentimentality, reminding her of reality all over again: that she was truly the one carrying on Shepard's legacy. That Shepard had chosen her for this sacred duty.

As far as I knew, Ashley remained there at home without leaving, even at this very moment, without having changed from her usual oversized T-shirt and tight black pants. Whether she had eaten or showered, I didn't know. Fearful, I chose not to know, to verify. I simply did not have the strength to watch over her like this, as unfair as it all was. Because I knew that if I did not feel Shepard's presence in this way, then I would have been as broken as she was, if not more.

There remained a part of me that wished to pay Ashley a visit, to check on her in-person.

She had not outright disallowed me from seeing her, or from setting foot in Shepard's apartment. Though I couldn't imagine that she would want me to go over there. Not unless I had an actual reason. Anything less, and Ashley would think that I only pitied her. She knew that I was more or less all right. She knew why. She did not wish to discuss it. She did not want to suffer any reminders about the disparity between us.

Respecting her wishes, I had nothing to offer Ashley at a time like this. And yet I couldn't ignore this nagging feeling now that I should have been over there. So stifling, so horrible, so threatening—this came close to the sorrow that I should have felt over Shepard's death.

Had Ashley fallen into the worst of her despair?

I was about to 'check in' with her—for this emergency only—until I was interrupted.

Interrupted by an incoming call to my omni-tool from an unknown person, on an unknown frequency.

If this were any other day, any other moment, and any other coincidence, I would have ignored the call.

I would have ignored it over security concerns, over any number of other reasons.

This chain of events was far too compelling, far too meaningful.

I accepted the call.

Cautious, I asked, "Who is this?"

"Greetings, Dr. T'Soni," said a rigid, mechanical voice—emotionless, perfunctory, and vaguely male-sounding, yet completely unfamiliar. I frowned, worrying that this was only a robo-call, or some other type of spam that had breached my omni-tool's many filters, until the person continued, "We have contacted you as a friend. You are joined with Shepard-Commander: the one we know as Vespair. To Vespair, we are known as Infiltrait0rN7. Do you remember us?"

"Vespair…?" I echoed, recalling… "Oh, Shepard's gamer profile! Her name was Vespair. I believe I do remember you now. The other infiltrator… Did you play video games with her over the extranet?"

"Yes," replied the infiltrator. "We supported Shepard-Commander through many games. Shepard-Commander was a skilled organic, specializing in sniping and stealth, as she did in the Systems Alliance military. We were comrades."

"I see—of course." I had to set aside the strange manner of this person's speech—speaking as 'we' instead of an individual, and referring to Shepard as an organic. And as Shepard-Commander. Why? Whatever the case was, I thought it best to press on, "Very well, then. How did you manage to contact me, and why?"

"Our attempts to contact Shepard-Commander's allies were blocked by the Alliance's superior network, as they are physically located on a military base. We could not reach Williams-Lieutenant due to additional Alliance protocols. Dr. T'Soni is not currently located on an Alliance base. Your omni-tool is not safeguarded by Alliance security measures. We breached your omni-tool as a last resort at the request of our ally. Our ally wishes to exchange critical data with you. We have facilitated their request."

"And this ally of yours wishes to speak with me? They would like to share the critical data they have?"

"Correct."

I wondered, "Who is this ally of yours, and what is the information about?"

The infiltrator relayed, "Our ally anticipates you will reject a direct exchange of data. They wish to remain anonymous. Their information concerns Shepard-Commander. There is a moderate probability that our ally can restore Shepard-Commander's non-functionality."

I nearly blurted out, "Non-functionality? Restore!? Do you mean it is possible to bring Shepard back to life?"

"Yes."

Once again, I could not believe my own reality.

Here was this synthetic-sounding person telling me that Shepard could be brought back. There was a moderate chance according to them, to their ally, but a chance was a nevertheless a chance. And their ally—whoever it was—had to be well-informed, because Ashley had not yet given the Alliance her permission to share any solid details with the media, with other governments here on Earth and elsewhere, or with anyone else for that matter. No one outside of the crew from the Normandy and any need-to-know military personnel were aware that Shepard was clinically brain dead. There was rampant speculation across the galactic community, certainly, but no one else knew anything more.

Whoever this well-informed individual was, I wished to speak to them myself, to at least find out how they knew.

Once again, my curiosity got the better of me.

"I'd like to speak with your contact directly," I allowed. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Have them call me immediately."

"You are certain?" asked the stranger.

Thinking of Ashley, of how close she no doubt was to ending it all, I couldn't allow her to carry on like this. My personal feelings didn't matter. My lingering, negative emotions toward her couldn't compare to this emergency, to this unchangeable path she was on. She and Joker were the same, if not for different reasons, contemplating the same methods, the same end. Tali was barely removed enough from the situation to not be in a similar position, needing to be strong for Ashley, to support her, and yet there was only so much she could do.

Shepard would have wanted Ashley to survive, to move on some day. As idealistic and unrealistic as this was, with Ashley's troubles growing by the minute, I had to put things into perspective here.

If I could not at least verify this potentially positive news, then it was only a matter of time.

"Yes…I am sure. Please tell your associate to call me. This is urgent."

"Acknowledged."

As I waited the brief time for this other person to contact me, I questioned:

Shouldn't we let the dead rest?

Would Shepard even want this? Would she want to return to this life?

Was such a thing truly possible at all?

I could not go to Ashley with talks of lofty miracles or pseudo-science. She needed something concrete. I needed something more concrete than that.

More importantly, we needed Shepard to help us defeat the Reapers whenever they arrived.

Bringing her back from the dead to use her in this way…

Another unknown caller, another unknown frequency.

I accepted this next unknown, answering, "Hello?"

"Dr. T'Soni," stated a woman's professional-sounding voice—human, most likely. "Thank you for taking my call. I'm glad to see that you appreciate the urgency of this situation. With that said, will you allow me to remain anonymous? Or do you insist on knowing who I am?"

Trying to remember if I knew this person, I couldn't recognize her voice, or her elevated, rounded accent that was not at all like Shepard and Ashley's American ones. Vaguely confident with human ages by now, I assumed that this woman was about Shepard's age, if not a few years older. Sophisticated, direct, cold, and guarded all at once—she did sound like someone who would have been well-informed, and perhaps in a position of great power. I allowed myself to trust that this individual may have been genuine, despite their secrecy. I allowed myself to believe that this could have led to something that we all desperately needed, despite how far-fetched this solution seemed.

Everyone needed this—not just me.

I only hoped that Shepard would forgive me if she found out, in case she did not want any part of this.

I bargained with the woman: "For transparency's sake, it is best that I know who you are and who you're associated with. I won't be able to fully trust your information unless I know who your sources are. And if I can't trust your information, then we will get nowhere. So, tell me—who are you?"

"Just as I thought," she replied, fully prepared. "Have it your way. My name is Miranda. Miranda Lawson. I work for Cerberus—"

"Cerberus?! The pro-human advancement group led by the Illusive Man?"

"Yes, the very same," soured Miranda, before I could get too angry. "Listen, we don't have time to debate this! My colleague explained enough. All you need to know for now is that Cerberus has the dedication, the people, and the resources to make this happen. I can't say more on an unsecured line. You and I need to speak in-person. Ideally with Lieutenant Williams. Can you arrange a meeting for the three of us? The location needs to be private and secure."

I wished to know, "I take it you are already here on Earth?"

"That's right. I'm in San Diego now. Wherever you'd like to meet, I can be there within the next hour."

Only able to trust my intuition, really, I shared, "We can meet at Shepard's apartment. Ashley is already there. Do you have the coordinates?"

Miranda confirmed, "I know exactly where it is. Shepard's apartment will be very secure. I'm on my way now. In this traffic, I should be there in about forty-five minutes. I'll do my best to get there faster."

"That will work. Then I will also make my way over to her home. Simply ring the doorbell and I will answer."

"Understood. Thank you for agreeing to this, Dr. T'Soni. And thank you for your discretion. I'll create a secure line for us in case we need to call each other again."

"Yes, please do so. Thank you as well, Miss Lawson. I appreciate this."

---

Hurrying through the city to Shepard's apartment, I almost couldn't believe this turn of events. At this early evening, all of San Diego itself seemed to light up in celebration through this chilly weather, though I knew it was only for the nearest holiday approaching soon. As I took the monorail over Coronado's beautiful bay and bridge, I gazed out at the town alight in red, green, and white lights, brightening the mood far higher than the usual brooding I had come to expect.

I wondered if Shepard enjoyed this holiday. If she did enjoy it—if she had enjoyed it. I understood that it involved the human custom of exchanging gifts in celebration of a religious event—the birth of a cherished martyr who had died for humanity's sins—though the occasion had become largely secular over the centuries.

With the solar New Year approaching as well, everyone should have been in a festive mood, certainly.

But as I arrived to Central Station, and outside to the down-to-earth streets leading to Shepard's home, I found a similar story about the people meandering about. Those rumors about Shepard's death had spread far and wide by now, with only unverified reports reaching the masses. The masses here, especially, moved at a much slower pace than I remembered from before. Saddened, downtrodden—they had a difficult time accepting that Shepard may very well have been dead, after all that she had accomplished on the Citadel and beyond. She had grown into such a beloved figure. And she more than deserved to have this legacy, for the galaxy to remember her in fondness and in pride.

Making my way to Shepard's apartment building, I passed by several people seemingly glued to their omni-tools as they watched the news.

Verified or not, several organizations had already taken action to secure Shepard's legacy: scholarships for low-income students to attend university, measures to provide housing and meals for homeless LGBT youth, other means of shelter and care for those affected by gang violence, and fashion charities dedicated to discovering more raw talent beyond the industry's inner-circle—all in Shepard's honor.

Most of these ventures required Ashley's permission, her say-so to officially move things forward. She was in charge of Shepard's estate, after all. Though I couldn't imagine she had responded to anyone by now. Not now, and not yet, given her current state of mind.

Still consumed by this terrible feeling about Ashley's well-being, I walked faster.

Inside the Chiron Building's stunning lobby, I headed for the elevator, and went up to the 34th floor.

I found plenty of other residents in this carpeted hallway leading to Shepard's apartment. Families leaving together for holiday shopping, couples retiring home for an early night, and neighbors visiting one another—all of these people here made it simple enough to blend in, despite sticking out among them for obvious reasons, as they were all human. No one paid me any mind as I navigated to Shepard's door, too focused on one another and their conversations.

I wasn't entirely sure if any of them knew that Shepard had lived right next door. She'd hardly been at home as it was, what with her near-constant deployments over the years. Perhaps it was for the best that her neighbors did not know the truth.

At apartment 3434, I rang the doorbell, once, and waited.

Still too fearful to check in with Ashley directly, I relied on my passive senses instead. I felt her. She was here in this unit, and without that stagnancy I had sensed from Shepard's lifeless body in the snow. I trusted that she was fine, physically. For now, anyway…

When Ashley did not answer, I pressed the button to the doorbell again, more urgent.

I knew that she heard the ringing.

And Ashley knew that it was me out here.

Unless she had given Tali and the others the coordinates to Shepard's apartment, no one else could have found her here. Regardless of whether she knew I'd visited here before, Ashley could at least put the clues together. She had to know that I wouldn't be here unless it was serious.

Right as I was about to press the doorbell yet again, Ashley allowed me inside.

When the door opened, she was not there. She must have let me in remotely with her omni-tool.

As the door locked behind me, I took note that Shepard's VI did not greet me. While I was here for her birthday, she had offered to give me permission to enter her home freely. I had declined, citing Ashley; and I had asked for Shepard to program her security system to specifically say nothing when I arrived, again, citing the same reasons. I did not want Ashley to think that Shepard favored me, before this matter of her will and leaving her estate behind.

That decision of hers had surprised me, too, beyond my calculations.

It was yet another reminder that I only had myself to blame for this situation.

Treading through this contemplative gold of Shepard's well-designed home, I went to the guest area. On my way there, I noted that Ashley had left the television off in the living room. The blinds over the windows had only opened automatically, by Shepard's wishes left behind through her VI's programming. And everything looked exactly as I remembered it: the spotlessness of her kitchen with all of her food hidden away in the cabinets and forever-freezer, the hallway leading to her master bedroom, her video game collection towering along the wall around and above the TV, her sniper rifles set out in neatness over the long table by the windows, the single couch nearby, the low coffee table, and the separate chair facing the couch at an angle, all in unison as chocolate woods, warming against the cold chrome of the walls.

Such duality in design, just like Shepard herself.

In the guest room, I found that Ashley had not touched the office table, leaving Shepard's terminal and textbooks undisturbed. The open blinds over this window shined in more of the city's golden hues, misting as fog. That light glowed more over the guest bed, the comforter and pillows also untouched in meticulous organization.

So quiet, so far-removed from the world outside, this home was as a paradise.

That shattered once I reached the guest bathroom, finding this reminder of the mirror—still broken from Shepard's anger in years' past, and still broken after my recommendation that she have it fixed.

Broken more, I found Ashley upon the tiled floor.

Still in the usual clothes she wore to bed, Ashley sat up against the wall. She had on Shepard's dog tags as well, hanging there from her neck. Sniffling thickly, tears running down her face, Ashley had her head down, staring with reddened, deadened eyes at her latest dilemma. Surrounding her on the bathroom floor were several…items that I didn't recognize. There appeared to be dozens of clinical strips scattered around her. Not knowing what these were, I could only go off of what I sensed from her, gleaning their purpose:

Tests.

Dozens of tests.

All of which had come back negative.

Negative results…

Standing in the doorway, I could only stare at her for a long moment.

Too defeated to say anything to me, Ashley lay down over the bathroom floor, all the way.

She collected the strips in her arms, bringing them closer to her.

Chains and tags from Shepard's steel chiming with her movements, Ashley fell back into her emotions, back into crying, back into her heartbreak. Devastation complete with these test results, she could not do a thing except break more there upon the floor. She kept repeating her heartbreak—"No, no, no…"—her every utterance louder than the last, more and more helpless, fraying in harsher rasps, worse each time. Spiraling, screaming in barely-controlled tones, she couldn't hold on any longer. This week she had spent holding on, holding on, waiting, trying—she'd hoped and prayed for something else to help her hold on instead.

So convincing during this past week, having fooled Tali into thinking all would be fine.

Tali should have been here, looking after her.

Ashley was too skilled at lying, at pretending, and at convincing others that she was okay when she was not.

Stepping inside the bathroom with her, more, I knelt down here, just nearby.

"Ashley," I murmured, at a loss. "Please, try to get up. This isn't over—"

Ashley snarled at me, "Why aren't you crying, Liara?! Why aren't you upset? Why aren't you pissed the fuck off that this happened!?" When I gave no reaction, she growled in frustration. Clawing at the strips around her, she raged at me more, louder: "Jesus, why are you so calm? Like nothing happened! Don't you care that Shepard's gone?! You should care! You should care like I do, exactly like me! All I want to do right now is burn this motherfucking galaxy to the ground—for still turning, still existing without her! It has to stop!"

I couldn't blame Ashley for her outburst at a time like this…but this destruction of hers needed to stop.

"There's still hope," I shared. Ashley calmed a little, listening. "There might be a way to bring Shepard back. I know it sounds far-fetched. I know. But, with enough resources, this may be possible after all."

Hanging on to my words, she used them to pull herself out of this darkness. Just barely. Enough to think.

Ashley still shook her head, disbelieving. "That's impossible… It can't be done. No one…can bring anyone back to life. Who can play God like that with plain-old resources…? Please don't mess with my heart like this. I can't stand it… I can't take it anymore. I'm done—I'm so done. Just leave me alone… Let me die already."

"I'm not doing that, Ashley," I asserted. "You will have your answers soon enough. Someone is on their way to speak to us, to explain all of this. She has access to these resources. She has the information. All we need to do is listen to what she has to say."

"You told some stranger to come here…?"

"You're in no state to be seen anywhere else. And I wouldn't have asked her to meet us at all unless I believed her claims. Unless this was serious. We can't give up now. We have to believe!"

Accepting that I was right, Ashley stopped fighting against me.

She went silent, truly considering this.

After a while, I asked her, "Will you at least hear her out? Or do you want me to tell her never mind?"

Nearly there, she had stopped crying.

Nearly there, she stared down at the negative test results surrounding her.

"Ashley," I entreated, needing her to hear me. "Isn't it worth trying, at least?"

Trembling with the truth of the matter, Ashley sniffled thickly and said, "Yeah…I guess it is."

"Okay, then," I accepted, glad that I had gotten through to her. "Why don't you get cleaned up? Our visitor should be here within the next ten minutes or so."

Ashley groaned in an echoing weakness, admitting, "Can't move… I'm just…so freaking drained right now."

"Have you eaten at all?"

"Tried yesterday. Barely kept it down. Didn't want to risk actually throwing up. God, I can't…"

"Well, I don't want my contact to see you like this," I explained, looking to the nearby shower. "Will it be all right if I help you? I won't force you to eat if you don't have an appetite. That would be unproductive. I can find a change of clothes and get you in the shower instead. We have time for that much."

"Liara, I don't think you get it," droned Ashley. "I'm…a total mess. You can come here talking about believing all you want. Doesn't change what happened. Doesn't change the fact that we lost Shepard in the first place. I seriously…can't move at all. I should already be dead. Feels like I am. Like this is all one huge joke, one giant fuck you from the universe, screwing me over one last time before I finally die…"

"I do understand. Wait here. I'll be right back."

Just nearby in the guest room, I went to the dresser right next to the bathroom doorway. In the drawers, I found a large enough T-shirt as Ashley preferred and a pair of black under-armor pants. Uncertain if Ashley would allow me to assist this much, I pulled out a bra and pair of underwear that looked to be her size. I set everything on the bed a few paces away from the dresser, before returning to the bathroom.

Still lying upon the floor in the pile of her anguish, Ashley could only watch as I turned on the gentle stream of the shower water. Lukewarm, a bit warmer, warm enough—this temperature reached a comforting level to hopefully wash away some of her worries. Careful to not step on any of those negative readings on the ground, I then retrieved a large towel from the nearby rack, folding it over the counter.

Kneeling down with Ashley once more, I lifted her torso, having her sit up against the wall again.

She cooperated as much as her weaknesses allowed, letting me undress her.

Taking off her shirt and her tight pants was simple enough.

I paused once Ashley was down to her undergarments.

"Might as well," she mumbled, beneath the sounds of the running shower. "You've seen enough of me as it is. I don't even care anymore…"

With her apathetic permission, I finished undressing her all the way.

I set Ashley's clothes aside, folding them, and setting them over the counter. I then did my best to lift her—without my biotics, as this would have been too impersonal, too insensitive—pulling her up with me. I ignored this smell about her—of such persistent sweat and tears, everywhere. She likely hadn't changed out of those clothes or showered since we were last on the Normandy. Since Shepard had gone to visit her in her room in the crew's quarters, sharing that night with her.

Forcing Ashley to remain standing, I placed her in the shower. Trying to remain as dry as possible, I leveraged her here, helping her maintain her balance. Enough of the shower water washed down over her, rinsing through her hair and over her skin. I struggled to hold her up while pouring at least some body wash over her, this soap smelling of a masculine, wooden citrus. As awkward and strange as I felt, maneuvering with Ashley in this way, it was far better than doing nothing, or simply relying on the water to do everything. That wouldn't have been enough.

Right as I set the bottle of body wash back where I found it, I felt—something, so sudden—

Lonely, confused, Ashley held my face in her drenched hands, pressing her lips to mine, so deep. Deep in her pain, purposeful in her breaking, she would not stop. She wouldn't, not even when my eyes shot open, as I finally realized what Ashley was doing. Trying to feel again, this thickness and persistence about her lips and her tongue held the week-old taste of Shepard's memories on her mouth, in her mouth, everywhere.

Throbbing in this strange, sharp arousal, I angled my head away.

Ashley kept trying to reach me, pulling my face back down to her.

I turned my head more, reminding her, "Ashley, this won't solve anything… Please, you must stop."

Steam from the shower misting around her reddened face, Ashley told me, "But—you taste so calm to me. Like you really are okay… I need that right now. I need it so bad. Give it to me…"

"You will find your own calm in due time," I lectured. "We shouldn't do this. Be patient instead."

"I should have kissed you back at Dark Goddess. I should have just done it. I should've done even more. Taken you for myself. To finally know what you feel like, how you sound, what turns you on. You could've been completely helpless underneath me. I could've made you scream, made you bleed, taking that damn purity away from you. God, Liara, I wanted to fuck you so hard that night… You don't even know."

Light enough, I scolded her, "You don't mean any of that. I wish you wouldn't say things like this. I understand you're hurting right now. Yet I won't allow you to fall into anything with me. You will find your strength, your own way."

Ashley tried to kiss me again. "You say that like it's so fucking easy—"

I shut the water off. "And I know that it isn't!"

Cursing loudly from the sudden cease of warm water, Ashley shivered against me, unable to do anything more.

I reached over to the counter, retrieving the towel. Using one hand to hold Ashley in place, I used my other to expand the towel all the way. I somehow managed to wrap her body in this soft, dry warmth, keeping her from drenching me any more than she already had.

Mindful of the wet floor, I picked Ashley up as much as I could, bringing her to the guest bedroom with me.

Setting her down over the bed, her towel did enough to keep her from getting the comforter wet. As she lay there, watching me with eyes so intense, I dressed her in the fresh clothes I had picked out earlier. I understood why she had found her own calm as I did this. I understood what I repeated in my actions, making her relive that soothing fetish she had of Shepard doing the same, of dressing her in far more gentleness and care than my own at the moment. The mere imitation of such memories was enough to placate her, regardless of whether or not she imagined Shepard here instead, or if she somehow stayed in this experience with me.

Whatever the case was, I judged that Ashley would not spiral back into things while Miranda was here.

I didn't imagine that Miranda was the type of woman to understand if something like that did occur, possibly losing her patience instead.

I could not afford risking this relative stranger setting Ashley off in that impatience, forcing old traumas and painful memories to resurface at this terrible time.

Finished with dressing Ashley, I used the towel to dry her hair as much as I could. It would remain damp for some time afterward. Though I now realized that I had forgotten to use those human hair products for her. Yet another difference between our species: I hoped that she did not mind, or that it was somehow unnecessary for me to have used them. Either way, she appeared much better now.

After much effort without my biotics, I carried Ashley to the living room, sitting her down on the couch. I turned the television on, finding that it was already on the fashion channel that Shepard had enjoyed. I couldn't justify changing it to the Alliance News Network instead. Not with the strong possibility of stumbling onto a news story about Shepard, related to her death or not. That was the last thing Ashley needed right now. That was the last thing I needed right now.

Needing to set my own confusing emotions aside, I went to the kitchen. Shepard had stored away all of her non-perishable food. What little remained outside of the cabinets: frozen, sliced fruit here in the forever-freezer, ready and waiting to thaw out again. I quickly thawed these and found a bottle of water, bringing them with me back to the living room.

Sitting down together on the couch, Ashley and I shared the fruit without a word. Merely pretending to watch this runway show together, I remained here at her side, making sure that she drank enough of the water as well. I remembered that she'd had on Shepard's dog tags earlier. She must have wanted them back.

Before I could go retrieve them, Ashley asked me, "So…who's this contact of yours?"

"Her name is Miranda Lawson," I replied. "One of her…colleagues originally contacted me first on her behalf. Someone who is familiar with Shepard, from her video games. They played together as friends."

"Wait—was it that N7 Infiltrator guy?"

I wasn't sure how to explain the matter of this individual's gender. "Yes, it was. I also remember seeing the name a long time ago. If not for that, I doubt I would have spoken to Miranda at all. It was so strange. But, she did seem quite convincing." The doorbell sounded. "That will be her. I'll let her in."

Anxious all of a sudden, Ashley held the bowl of sliced fruit closer to her, eating more.

Not knowing what to expect—not entirely—I went to answer the door.

Miranda was there waiting in the empty hallway.

Human, as I had figured: she wore a black and midnight blue skintight suit with tall, thick heels. Absurdly beautiful, her curved body resembled more of a comic book heroine than an actual person. Fair-skinned and with a broad face, her sole imperfection seemed to be her two larger top front teeth, both peering through her thick lips in a rather endearing way, even as she herself sneered on occasion.

That Cerberus logo, Miranda wore proudly over her chest, embedded into her suit over the blue, with highlights of that logo's orange decorated through her uniform, popping as spots of color. Her dark, styled hair ran just down past her neck. I saw a mere veneer of patience shaped there in Miranda's cold, cold steel blue eyes, as deep as an ocean's floor—so undeniable, from the way she looked and the way she looked at me, she knew exactly what she was and what she had to offer. Not only in this moment, but in general, and in all things: she was under no illusions whatsoever about her appearance, how she had the power to twist her looks to her advantage whenever she pleased.

Encapsulating this first impression, Miranda struck me as a woman who was acutely aware of her worth.

Worth so in looks and aptitude both, she carried herself with that sheer confidence as she regarded me.

Not over-the-top or boisterous in arrogance, I found a more reserved self-assurance about her, poised.

"You must be Dr. Liara T'Soni," said Miranda, to-the-point. "How good to finally meet you in-person."

"Please, come in," I allowed, letting her inside the apartment.

"Of course. Thank you."

As the door locked behind her, Miranda went over to the stairs, her heels clicking against the shine of the chrome flooring beneath her. Looking around, brows raised in intrigue, she seemed greatly impressed as she surveyed Shepard's home, taking in everything within her view. Her eyes lingered longest along the view outside the windows, of this eternal light shining in on us—the three of us here.

Ashley didn't have the energy to stand and greet Miranda properly.

I offered instead, "Would you like anything to drink? Or would you rather focus on our discussion?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to pass," responded Miranda. "We should get right to business. Time is precious. I'm sure you understand."

Letting herself into the living room, Miranda found the open chair there, facing the couch at an angle.

As she walked over there, Miranda passed by Ashley, who continued to eat her fruit and drink her water. Not ignoring her, though not quite acknowledging her, either, Ashley said nothing, merely observing for the time being. She did not want this relative stranger in Shepard's home—and I sympathized—and yet something about her silence soon changed.

I sat down next to Ashley again, sensing the way she judged Miranda's looks, her choice of clothes.

Miranda spotted the same.

Unbothered, she sat down in her designated chair, crossing her long legs in a measured elegance.

She stared Ashley down as hard, if not more so than Ashley stared at her.

"And you must be Ashley Williams," remarked Miranda, still unbothered. "Or rather, Lieutenant Williams. You'll have to forgive me for not making the standard chit-chat about your family's history. I can imagine you've heard enough about all of that. You must be sick of it by now, aren't you?"

Ashley sneered, "You're seriously bringing that up? What happened to getting right to business?"

"Well, I figured you could do with some small-talk. This is your home, after all. I didn't want to be rude."

"Rude, huh?" mocked Ashley, her eyes canting down to the logo over Miranda's chest. "And you work for Cerberus? This is great. This is just fucking great! I can't believe this shit…"

"I suggest you believe it, Lieutenant. Cerberus is the only organization in the galaxy with the funding and the know-how to pull this off. Restoring Commander Shepard will likely cost billions of credits, and at least two years of dedicated work and progress. I'm offering to bring her back—one hundred percent, exactly as the woman she was. Cerberus can do this. We can do this. I can. No one else."

"And I'm supposed to believe you, right? I'm supposed to hand Shepard's body over to a damned terrorist group and hope for the best? Is that it?"

"I don't have time to sit here and defend Cerberus on any individual accusations you might bring up. What matters most is that our information network is second-to-none, rivaling even the Shadow Broker's agents. We have access to money and resources you can't possibly imagine. For example, the unknown ship that attacked the Normandy? It belongs to the Collectors. After Shepard defeated Sovereign, they wanted her gone. They're terrified of her—as they should be."

Mildly moved now, Ashley questioned, "Who the hell are the Collectors?"

Miranda explained, "They're a band of raiders of some sort who primarily operate out in the Terminus Systems. Before the attack, they stuck to dealing with slavers, exchanging large sums of resources for rare specimens and other valuable items. You might have heard about the many colonists out in the Terminus getting displaced and forced to move back into Council Space. It's because of the Collectors, what they're doing out there. This is the first time they've taken such drastic action."

Recalling enough corroborating information, Ashley relented, "Fine, I'll believe you on that. What does Cerberus want with Shepard, then? You said you can bring her back exactly as she was. Why bother?"

"And risk getting wiped out by the Reapers? Lieutenant, we need Shepard. The galaxy needs her. She's a hero—a bloody icon. We need her to take out the Collectors, and put an end to what they're up to out in the Terminus Systems. Any and all technology we can find about the Collectors will help us in the fight against the Reapers. Make no mistake: without Shepard, we will lose this war. You've seen for yourself what she's uniquely capable of. It's that simple."

"You just want her to deal with the Collectors and the Reapers? You're sure you won't force her into some human supremacist agenda? Turn her into a terrorist like the rest of you? Don't bullshit me, either. I'm really not in the mood for it."

Miranda made herself clear: "The Lazarus Project will restore Shepard as she was—for the sole purpose of defeating the Collectors and the Reapers. Whatever she chooses to do outside of the mission will be up to her, not us. You and Dr. T'Soni could even join her if you'd like."

"Fat chance. There's no way in hell I'm working for Cerberus! I've seen what you do to innocent people. I remember those crazy experiments you're so damn obsessed with. You kidnapped Rear Admiral Kahoku from the Alliance, ran those tests on him, and then he wound up dead! How am I supposed to trust you won't do the same to Shepard? Why should I even trust you at all!?"

Losing patience—"Lieutenant, this isn't about your petty grudges and hurt feelings. This is about the fate of the galaxy. This is about humanity's survival! Unless you give us permission to do what we need to do, then we'll all end up dead! You don't want that kind of blood on your hands."

"Now you think you can guilt-trip me into doing what you want? Don't try me. I'll only make you regret it."

"I have no other choice here. You aren't willing to listen to reason."

"Reason? What reason!? Bringing Shepard back just to turn her into one of your slaves is the worst thing I could do to her! You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'll put her through that! She'd rather stay dead than be anyone's slave! And you can't tell me otherwise!"

"And now it's clear we're getting nowhere," criticized Miranda, sighing. "Look, if you reconsider, then the plan is straight-forward. Tell the Alliance that you do not want Shepard to lie in state at the Capitol. The logistics would be a nightmare for us. Sign off on holding her burial service here in San Diego. When you do, Cerberus sleeper agents will oversee the transfer of her stasis pod. They will make certain that the body is transported to our private facility for the Lazarus Project. We'll get started from there."

Ashley rolled her eyes, still unwilling to budge.

Miranda went on, "Either way, I would appreciate if you kept this conversation of ours private. I can't risk you compromising our operations. Just don't go running your mouth to the wrong people. Keep this quiet. You don't want to make Cerberus your enemy by acting against us. Be smart about this."

"Whatever," dismissed Ashley. "I have no reason to tell anyone anything. It's not like they'd believe me anyway. We can just pretend this conversation never happened instead."

"Damnit, Williams, stop being so stubborn! This is an offer you can't refuse. We all need Shepard back! The Reapers will make certain we burn in hell without her! All you need to do is sign off on the transfer. And you need to do it now. The galaxy can't afford to wait on you like this! Humanity can't afford it!"

"So what are you saying, then? That you'll do anything to get me to change my mind? Is that it?"

Glaring at her in full venom, Miranda admitted, "If you're going to be this hard-headed, then the answer is yes. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get Shepard's remains and start this project. I have to be."

Ashley eyed that skintight uniform, asking, "You're seriously willing to do anything? Absolutely anything?" She laughed softly in such a warped suggestiveness. "Are you…offering me something, Lawson?"

Miranda snapped at her, "I'm not offering anything that you're at liberty to take, Lieutenant! Stop twisting my words!" She scoffed in disgust when Ashley only laughed more. "You're such a child… Whatever you're dealing with in your grief, it's no excuse for this nonsense. I know for a fact that you aren't serious. But on the horribly off-chance that you are, then yes, I will sleep with you if that's what you want!"

Challenging, contemptible, Ashley goaded her, "Oh, yeah? Why's that? And don't tell me anything about Shepard, or humanity, or the damned galaxy, either. That's too easy." Miranda scowled deeply in response. "Yeah, you hate this. Too bad. I'm in charge here, not you. So suck it up and tell me your real reasons. Paint the picture. What do you have to offer me if I actually fuck you? Spill it, Lawson. This had better sound worth my time."

Scandalized, Miranda fired back, "Really, Williams? You're honestly choosing to treat me like this!?" Waiting, expectant, Ashley said nothing, merely needing an answer. "Fine. As reckless and ridiculous as you are, I find you sickeningly attractive. And it is just that—sickening. Very much so. Before you ask how or why I feel this way, it isn't merely a superficial thing with how beautiful you are. It's because I know far more about you than you realize. I've done my research on your mind and who you are: your wants, your needs, your psychology. So let's suppose you are serious, and you want me. I can make you forget about all of the pain that you're in. I'm not Shepard, but I'm beyond capable of giving you the type of pleasure that you can only imagine at a time like this. Take that as you will. I refuse to say anything more unless you're willing to negotiate a fair trade with me. I'll give you my sex in exchange for your permission…if that is what you require."

"Interesting," mused Ashley, smirking in an unusual, teasing darkness. "Good to know you're not too stuck-up about this. I'll keep that in mind."

Noticing that twisted gloom, Miranda could only stare at her, unable to respond.

They both seemed so…disturbed, in their own, separate ways.

Finding her bearings once more, Miranda changed the subject, "Lieutenant, listen to me. This needs to happen. It can't wait! Shepard's the only one capable of defeating the Reapers in her unique way. My boss and I have studied her methods. If she can continue as she was on the Citadel, then we can win this war." She regarded me with a veiled understanding, somewhere in her eyes as a bottomless blue. "You played a key role in her victory, Dr. T'Soni. Even though we can't replicate Shepard's talents in other people, I would love the chance to study your place in her mind. It's clear that she couldn't have gotten this far without you. She's our only hope—with you protecting her sanity."

I pointed out, "Even so, I don't believe that Ashley is willing to make a decision tonight. Perhaps we shouldn't push the issue any further. We aren't making any meaningful progress here."

"Unfortunately, you're right," agreed Miranda, standing now. "Think on this some more, then. I'll be in town until either Williams signs off on the transfer, or the Alliance holds the funeral service. If you'd like to have another productive discussion, or if you make up your mind, you're free to let me know." She shared with Ashley the new secure line she'd created for us earlier that evening. "If you need anything—anything at all—then call me. And I meant what I said. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get this done. As lonely and dangerous as you are, I'll set that aside if you insist on having your damned reward. Even if it means humiliating myself with someone like you, I'll do it. Don't underestimate my ambitions."

I stood up as well, walking Miranda to the door. Though I stopped halfway to the stairs. Quiet now, Miranda waited for me, sensing my hesitations.

I knew that her words had cut at something in Ashley, just as she knew—just as she'd anticipated when she had used those specific weapons, aiming to sheathe, to force this unseen blood to spill out.

This was all very familiar to me.

Miranda's brand of ruthlessness felt too much like looking into a mirror.

"Ashley," I spoke. "Would you like me to stay here? Or should I check up on you tomorrow instead?"

Ashley turned to look at me in earnest, responding, "Thanks for the offer, Liara. Honestly, I need to process all of this… Let me clean myself up some more first. I'll go see you at the hotel instead. I get that this decision is important and all. I guess I just need to talk about it without someone around making things worse."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, if it won't be too late for you or anything. I should really get out of this apartment for a while."

"That is fine with me," I allowed. "I managed to book the same room as before. Do you remember where it is?"

"Top floor," recalled Ashley. "I remember the room number. I won't take that long. Maybe like an hour."

"Very well, then. Take your time. I'll see you once you're ready."

"Okay. I'll try to get myself together now. As much as I can, anyway… Thanks again."

I left Shepard's apartment building with Miranda, walking with her through this cold breeze to the monorail station. It was an interesting coincidence that we had both taken the same method of getting here, if not on the same exact line. I had taken line two from Coronado, while Miranda had taken line one from the downtown area instead. Speaking together as we went, we briefly commiserated about the city's poor traffic and lack of public transportation options—until we nearly reached Central Station, across from the busy police station.

Stopping here on the side of the road, close but not too close to the station, Miranda observed me.

I observed her the same way, wondering what this was all about.

A safe distance away from other people, from security cameras, from the armored police officers patrolling across the way with their assault rifles—we could speak freely enough here.

Miranda reflected on her words carefully before saying, "Forgive me for being so informal, Liara. But I'm running out of options. I can't stress enough how important it is that the lieutenant changes her mind. Please talk some sense into her. Get her to come around. There's too much riding on this."

"Believe me, Miranda, I know," I shared. "Something tells me that relying on Ashley is your final option."

"And you're right," she sneered. "I considered every other angle before reaching out to anyone on the Normandy's team. You were the best candidate. You were the only one who I knew would listen. Whether it was possible to contact Williams directly or not, there's no way I would've bothered. She can't be reasoned with. I'm certain you understand my thinking on this."

"I understand exactly what you mean. Though you do sound quite troubled. Perhaps stressed, worried."

Miranda sighed in some of those stresses and worries of hers. "Is it that obvious?"

I smiled at her. "A little."

"Well, then, I suppose there's no getting past you," she accepted, light enough. "I'm glad that you and I are able to speak clearly about this, Liara. We've barely met today, but I'm sure you know that I've done my research on you, too. The rest of your team included. As far as I'm concerned, you and I are on the same page. Williams is the wildcard. I'm not convinced that she's capable of being responsible with her power."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's suppose you change the lieutenant's mind within the next few days or so. That's an ideal scenario. If that happens, and the project is a success, then we will run into more problems. She has the power to make Shepard do whatever she pleases. She could turn Shepard away from my boss, away from our mission. She could do any number of terrible acts if she pleased."

I hated that she saw the same as I did.

"From your perspective, do you truly believe that Ashley is capable of such a thing?"

"Oh, absolutely. The girl is entirely destructive and unpredictable. I don't like it. Not one bit. The only predictable thing about Williams is how unpredictable she is! She deserves to be collared and leashed, not given free reign of Shepard's psychology and life choices. Humanity's fate is at stake here."

I had to ask, "When did you first hear about Shepard? How long have you known about her?"

Miranda obfuscated, "Long enough to believe in her legacy as an icon. Just as anyone else would."

I understood what she said. What she would not say.

"With that in mind, do you honestly feel you're the best person to be impartial about this?"

Smiling in a mild discomfort, Miranda shared, "No, I'm not. But I'm trying. My boss put me in charge of this project. I don't make a habit of turning down opportunities like this. I can't afford to fail him."

"You keep repeating what you can and cannot afford," I pointed out. "This isn't a simple game of assets and liabilities, Miranda. This is about Shepard's life first and foremost. Her mind, her sanity. Her well-being. The galaxy is secondary. Humanity, and even my people—they all come second to this."

"And I strongly agree with you…however unfortunate that is."

"Why?" I wondered. "You've never met her personally. How is it that you and I are in fact on the same page?"

"Liara, I watched Shepard's progress," explained Miranda. "My boss also studied the Protheans extensively. He knows how they held out against the Reapers. He knows how Shepard replicated that victory on the Citadel. Shepard may be dead now, but she is still a god—you know it, and I know it. I don't give a damn about beliefs or religion. Only cold, hard facts. And the fact of the matter is, without you, Shepard would have lost herself to her demons. She wouldn't have completed the mission at all!"

"So it makes you uncomfortable that Ashley has any type of power. Even if it is impossible for her to take my place in this way."

"That's quite the understatement… I honestly don't know what the hell Shepard sees in her. She and the girl are too madly in love with each other. Shepard's sense of self is also far too malleable. It's what makes her so strong against the Reapers, certainly—yet for everything else, it's a logistical nightmare. I don't trust Williams to make the right choices if she knew her worth. She's a complete disaster just waiting to happen! I swear, she's going to get us all killed…"

Sadly, I agreed with her.

Sadly, I did.

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I will need to rethink my own choices."

Miranda encouraged me, "Yes, please do. I'm fully aware that we might be making a mistake here. In fact, my boss disagrees with me on the matter. He doesn't see Shepard as a person with legitimate feelings or concerns. He believes we should push her instead, regardless of the risks. He thinks we'd only coddle her if we don't make the truth clear. But it would be a greater mistake for the lieutenant to know the extent of her power. Humanity's survival—and the galaxy's survival—hangs in a precarious balance. I don't want Williams tipping the scales at all. I don't want her causing chaos and mayhem for Shepard or for the rest of us."

"You and I are in full agreement, then," I settled. "For now, I will do my best to change Ashley's mind about this project. However long it takes for you to complete everything, it sounds like I will need that time for myself. I have to sort through this minefield. It is an impossibly delicate situation."

"I'm glad you see the bigger picture here," replied Miranda, sounding relieved. "Thank you for going over this with me, Liara. I can move forward with some peace of mind, if nothing else."

I smiled in the same feeling of some peace. "So can I. It helps to not feel as alone in my thinking. Thank you as well, Miranda, for being so candid with me."

"Of course. As an asari, I can only imagine how you feel. You're so used to taking the long view. It's a sad day when the long-term solution is the most dangerous one. I once believed that the short-term was always reckless and unreliable. As long as we have control over the outcome we want, then so be it."

---

From: Tali'Zorah – Worrying about you.

Liara,

I respect that you want to be alone right now. Believe me, if I had your permission, I'd be right there at the hotel with you. I miss you, Liara. I miss you a lot. Being here on this Alliance base without you, without Ashley—without Shepard… It gets me thinking too much. Wrex and Garrus are understandably distant. I haven't been able to talk to them about this, about anything.

Joker will be fine. He's starting to come back around. He wants to be there for the burial service. So that's some good news, at least.

For some reason, I'm not exactly worried about Ashley. I'm oddly confident that she will recover from this. In time. A lot of time. But she's resilient in a way that I don't see in many others. I wanted to stay with her at Shepard's apartment, just to be sure. I know she's hiding the worst of her troubles from me. I have to trust that she'll be all right. As much as I want to, I can't babysit her about this… It's out of my control. I need to have faith in her.

Honestly, I'm more worried about you. You haven't reacted to Shepard's passing at all. Even as I write these words, I can't stop crying. You're the total opposite. It's as if you keep expecting her to wake up again any minute now. Or that you're only biding your time for something again. I understand that you still feel your connection with her, even in death. And I'm really jealous that you can. I've always been jealous of you.

Having you as my best friend has been such a wonderfully difficult experience. It's been challenging. I care for you so much. I feel eternally close to you. At the same time, I've never been able to reconcile with the fact that you played such an important role in Shepard's life while she was still alive. You changed her on a fundamental level. If I didn't know any better, I think she needed you to keep herself from going insane. She used to be so angry when we all first met. She truly did frighten me, like she would self-destruct at any moment if any of us dared to say the wrong thing to her. You helped her move on from that.

I suppose that was why I kept quiet about my own feelings. After all the reassurances you've given me about her, I'm sure you've figured it out. Thank you, again, for sharing so much with me. The secrets we share continue to stabilize me, giving me strength. I can carry this knowledge forward into the future. Maybe as a way to cope. Hopefully. You have my renewed promise that this will stay between us.

I just wish I had opened up to Shepard about the rest. It's killing me that I'll never have another chance to talk to her, to see her again. I don't know if I'll ever move on from this. From her. No one can come close to what she was. No one can compare to her. Not now, and not in the future.

So if I'm feeling this way, I can only imagine what you're actually going through. I wish you would tell me. After losing Shepard, I've learned my lesson about staying quiet. About not being fully honest with the ones I love. About not living in the moment; not telling the people around me how much I care for them. As your friend, I love you very much. You've always been there for me with your calming wisdom, even when you are distant like this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate having you in my life.

Please, whenever you're up for it, tell me when you'd like to meet up in the city. We can even go out for drinks and make complete fools of ourselves. Please, Liara…I'm begging you. Please don't isolate yourself from me while you're hurting. Please don't leave me behind. I couldn't handle it if you did. Not after losing Shepard. Not after having to let go of Ashley like this while she's suffering alone without me. I know what she's going through. And I should be more understanding. I suppose I can't help feeling angry at her. Angry over the way she's practically abandoned me like this. This is so strange. I wish I could stop these emotions. They're so irrational. I'm not proud of them at all.

I'm so lonely without you here.

Please talk to me again, Liara. Please come to my room here on this base and take care of me. No one understands me like you do. I'm desperate to see you again, for you to hold me in my pain. I'm confused by how desperate I am. I don't understand it. But I suppose this is what true grief is. Wanting to be close to you in this way, even though I shouldn't be thinking about this at all. It feels like you're all I have left. And you've always given me such a soothing, centering energy, helping with my silly anxiety problems. Maybe that's why. Maybe it's natural for me to wonder about you in another way. Maybe it makes sense that I want you to know me on this deeper level. I trust you with my life. You're the only one. The only one left.

I'm sorry if this is coming off too strong. I didn't want to hold back. I didn't want to regret not telling you everything. You mean so much to me. I really, really need you.

I am too young to have this many regrets.

-Tali

As I sat here in my hotel room, re-reading Tali's email for the fifth time, everything began to hit me.

All as I wondered how I felt for her, wondering if I should reply to her message. Wondering if it would be best to say nothing, considering this confusing matter of her feelings, with Tali having fully attached herself to me in her needs and sorrows. Though I supposed it only made sense that she had done this, consciously or otherwise, as vulnerable as she was these days… And considering all of our private discussions. Especially about Shepard. So I wasn't surprised. Just…sad that things had ended up this way.

Thinking this over, I remained by the windows again. Staring out to this beautiful city at night. Gazing out at the gold of this mist, at the holiday lights dazzling the view. All the people there, the humans far below that I couldn't see, gathered between those lights, indiscernible: such an apt metaphor of how I felt, how I saw things.

As close as Shepard felt to me, even in death, I couldn't help feeling so far-removed from her.

And I had always felt this way.

She and I were never truly close. Not on an emotional level. I hadn't let her in when I'd had the chance. I hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity in front of me, when Shepard was underneath me in my bed that night five months ago. Even saying the words after the fact—I love you; I love you more than you'll ever know—I had failed to tell her everything. I had disabled my own capabilities, convincing myself that I was not worthy, regardless of my mistakes, my hasty decisions, and my foolish recklessness.

Not quite crying as I sat here, and not quite level-headed, either, I felt the full flood of how much I missed her.

How I missed Shepard so, even with this chance for her to come back to me.

How I missed and needed her this much, knowing the truth; knowing that I was not the person she'd thought I was.

Shepard was gone. She wasn't here in this life anymore. Her remains were in a stasis pod, away from me. I should have been with her. I should have prostrated myself on that pod to be with her again. I should not have left her side, turning a blind eye to my emotions, focusing too much on this mental feeling, on the bond we still shared.

I should have fought for her when I'd had the chance.

I should have stepped out of my comfort zone.

I shouldn't have let her go at all.

I should have been the one Shepard had named in her will. Not Ashley. It should have been me. I would have signed off on everything for Miranda by now. I would have been selfish enough to take the chance; to actually trust Cerberus. I would have given anything to have Shepard back by my side.

Now, I was forced to wait.

I was forced into this frustrating position of needing to change Ashley's mind, to get her to act already.

Putting Shepard first; being selfish and putting myself first instead—

In fighting for her, I understood that she'd wanted me to be ruthless. She saw that type of action as romantic, despite the risks. That was what Shepard hadn't been able to say out loud when we'd spoken in her room the other night. That was what had hooked her to me in the first place. My potential. The whispers of my truest capabilities. That edge, that darkness about me that I was so ashamed of.

I found my proof in the remnants of Shepard's decaying memories. Even though her mind was clinically gone, I could still sense…some things by checking in with her.

A memory from when she was about ten years younger:

Shepard had made a few lists of her ideal qualities in a woman. As if holding the lists in my hands, I was able to read them with ease, making sense of everything here.

Realistic, attainable – I want this imperfect woman

-She has to be gorgeous. Obviously. A bombshell or someone more plain, normal, real. Doesn't matter. She has to be attractive.

-She has to be dedicated to whatever she sets her mind to. Skilled and ambitious.

-She can be stubborn or a brat as long as I get the final say in the end.

-Someone who wants me to do what she wants. I like being a service top. She'd have to appreciate that.

-I think she should be younger than me. Bold, fearless, daring. That energy could be infectious.

-Even if she is younger, she should be mature enough to not take advantage of my kindness.

-She should be mature enough to be real with me, too. Be completely honest with me when it matters.

-I want her to be really passionate. Like a constant flame. Uncontrollable feelings for me. Even if it means she gets jealous easily or has a bitchy attitude about other women liking me. I could make myself like it.

-If she does feel that way, then it'd be safe for me to love her completely. I wouldn't be afraid of her leaving me high and dry while I'm in that deep. But then that leaves me open to getting hurt by her in other ways. I'd risk it all for her if she was worth it.

-I need her to be able to rely on me. If she can do that, then I can rely on myself. Finally be responsible.

-Someone who will smile at me full of love, even when I'm pissed off and scowling.

Wildcard – I don't get why I want these things

-I have a sadistic streak, somewhere. Degradation. Humiliation. Aggression.

-Getting inside a woman's head and finding her darkest wants is something I crave. Especially if she's in denial about them.

-If she's controlling, then I want to control her. If she's unafraid, then I want her to be afraid of me. If she thinks she's the best, then I want to tear her fucking ego down and twist her into submission.

-Depending on the person, I'd rather she get off from her fear of me than how much she might love me. I'd rather be feared and respected than loved and taken advantage of.

-Her world needs to revolve around me. I'm in charge. Whatever she knew before is no more. She can't even imagine the full extent of what I can do for her.

Unrealistic, unattainable – but I want her anyway – the perfect woman

-I want her to be gorgeous, too. In a different way, though. I don't know how. Just…different.

-Someone who is everything at once. The whole universe in a single woman.

-Soothing, calming, gentle, with a quiet strength. No obnoxious ego, no pointless pride. I want to be able to chill with her. No drama.

-I crave a woman who's incredibly intelligent. Someone who can keep up with me on a mental level. Surpass me. Teach me something new every day. Challenge me to think more. Get in my head and control me, my psychology. Really pull out who I am as a person. Push me out of my comfort zone in creative ways, all the time. Keep me guessing. Don't let me figure her out or know what to expect.

-I want her to be obsessed with me 24/7. It sounds weird. I get a rush out of it. I don't know why.

-She should know exactly what she wants from me. She should expect me to give it to her at all times. She shouldn't settle for anything less. That type of needy, clingy confidence is really hot to me.

-Someone who won't hold back with me. Not for anything. Kind of goes with the obsession, too. It's about not having to deal with guesswork. I hate when people are fake with me. I will respect her more for being honest about who she is. I want her to be brave enough to show me her dark side.

-Someone who would do anything to have me. I need her to be ruthless about it. The more ruthless she is, the better. Contradicts how I feel about justice, playing by the rules… I guess in this case, the timing would have to be right. Fight for me, make me fall in love, and then she can do her worst. It's a fantasy.

-Even if we break up, I still want to be in love with her. I still want her to be in love with me. I don't want us to let each other go. I don't think we could ever really break up, either. Maybe that would turn into an unending, toxic relationship. I'm not sure. I would need the security with her more than anything.

-The most important thing: I want her to take care of me. I want her to be older than me, too. I want her to be mature enough, and caring enough to heal me. I know that I'm more or less falling apart. I get that I'm barely holding myself together on my own. I hate having to admit that. But I need these qualities in a woman.

-Going back to what's most important, if I trust her like this, then I need to know that she'll always be there for me. I need her to be vulnerable in that way—open, kind-hearted, tender, and so sweet, not minding how mean I am at all. If she is, then I can take the next step and reciprocate. I'm too proud to take that step first. Too paranoid. Too scared that I'll do it, and then she'll abandon me. So I want her to be selfless enough to do it first. I want her to be fearless in this way. I want her to have the courage to love me completely, no matter what. Then we could have our eternal peace together.

Again, all over again, my regrets accosted me.

My hesitations and my mistakes had cost me so much. Too much.

And now, I was all alone here in this hotel room. Everyone else outside was out celebrating, shopping, living together. Though there were plenty of other tenants here in the hotel, escaping that holiday cheer; withdrawing into themselves as they remained in this building instead, just as I did.

I had hope that Shepard would return, thanks to Miranda, to Cerberus…

I had hope, and yet I was terrified that it was too late for us. I had already given into my despair after our last conversation, right before the Collectors had attacked the Normandy. I had made up my mind then that my time was already up. That I was incapable of changing. That I was irredeemable.

If that was true—and if Shepard truly believed that I had no chance with her anymore—then why did our bond continue to live on?

Why did I still feel her this way? Why did she feel so close to me, even in death?

Perhaps because I should have lived up to Shepard's unrealistic, unattainable expectations of me.

I shouldn't have given up on her, no matter the consequences.

And not only for my own sake.

I loved Tali too much to give up on her—to give up on the promises I had made. The hope I had given her. The positive thinking I had instilled in her, giving Tali more faith in serving our captain, without any expectations whatsoever. And the reasons I had told her to be patient in her affections and desires for Shepard, as it was only a matter of time until she had what she wanted. After all that we had discussed in private back on my homeworld during Shepard's birthday, and the truth behind Tali's mistake in drinking to such excess…I had a responsibility to see this through. Whatever agreements or allowances Ashley had made for threes, I did not trust her to include Tali in any fairness. Ashley would only seek to leverage her power through such an arrangement. Tali would not have felt safe. I had to intervene.

Right as I expected, Ashley knocked on the door of my hotel room.

Nearly 10:00pm.

She had taken longer than maybe an hour to arrive. Though I supposed I couldn't blame her.

Answering the door, I found that Ashley appeared a little better after the week she'd had. Unsurprisingly, she had on some of Shepard's clothes—and Shepard's dog tags again—likely out of a need for comfort, even if these clothes were slightly too large over her. I remembered this soft-looking white hoodie, those rugged black jeans with bleached-out spots of silver, and the chrome coating of those combat boots. This was what Shepard had worn after I'd told her to stop wallowing in her apartment with me. This was what she'd changed into after I'd told her to go do what she wished to do with Ashley—to stop holding back.

That had been foolish of me.

As bare as I had been at the time, and with her fully-clothed, I should have stayed in her bed. Made her stay with me instead. Convinced her that I was worth it, and that she was making a mistake with this other woman.

Instead, now, I let Ashley into my room, locking the door behind her in this contemplation.

I found myself growing angry all of a sudden. Angry for Tali, agreeing now that Ashley had abandoned her like this. And perhaps I had as well.

Ashley couldn't know what exactly was on my mind.

I certainly didn't want or need her to know. Yet she observed me in concern anyway.

"So…what's up, Liara?" tried Ashley. "You don't look as calm as you were earlier."

"I suppose I am not," I allowed, returning to my spot by the windows, sitting before the glass. "It has been a long evening."

Ashley followed me to this view overlooking the city. She stared out to the night for a bit, in awe of how the town had lit up for the holidays. Something about the emotions washing over her expression struck me as oddly nostalgic.

Coming back around, she sat down with me at my side, asking, "What've you been up to, then?"

Finding an excuse, a white lie, I pulled up my omni-tool, searching at random: "Since it is possible now that Shepard may return, I have been researching new sniper rifles for her." I managed to actually find something in this errant search. "It appears that the Alliance is in the process of testing a new line of M-98 Widow units. These aren't built for organics to use. The kickback is far too strong. I imagine that Shepard would be first in line to receive one of these. She would enjoy this model, given that the kickback does not break her arms."

Ashley promised, "I'll let R&D know. Hopefully they can make one that's tailor-made for her. They should be able to. Shepard deserves the best."

"Truly?" I puzzled. "You say that as if you have already made up your mind—again."

"No way! I'm still undecided," she insisted. "Like, if the Alliance makes the gun for her, and she can't use it…I'd just display it for her at home instead. She can enjoy it that way." Ashley spotted my disappointment. Frowning, she sighed in guilt over her indecision. "Hey, let's not talk about that right now. I meant what I said a few minutes ago. You don't look too good at all. I know you haven't been in here researching sniper rifles this whole time. Real talk—what's going on?"

Thinking of Tali, of how much I loved her as well, despite everything: "I am too young to have this many regrets. That's all."

Ashley knew that I had no desire to get into this. So she spoke of her own regrets instead, "Well, on my end, I've been thinking about how I acted earlier. I shouldn't have kissed you in the shower. Shouldn't have thrown myself at you like that. Shouldn't have told you all that stuff after the fact, even if it was true back then. You were so gentle and understanding with me when you had every reason to look down on me instead… I'll never forget that. I'm really sorry…"

"It's quite all right," I forgave. "You were confused. Perhaps you still are. We both are. We must be. I would worry more if we weren't."

"Confused…yeah. I guess that's one way to describe it. I mean, I even made a pass at Miranda. Her. I barely met her today and she's already in my head like this. It's seriously pissing me off."

Knowing that this wasn't as simple as it appeared, I asked her, "What do you mean by that?"

Ashley scoffed, explaining, "I hate that she has such a huge ego. She thinks she's so much better than everyone. Just because she whores around in those so-called clothes, and she's so damn capable and intelligent, she's convinced that the galaxy should bow down to her or something. It isn't fair. I can't stand people like her."

Yet again, this sounded far too familiar… "Ashley, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you do want her. Perhaps your conversation with her was no mere tease."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I wasn't just teasing her, or trying to get her to spill her guts. Like, Miranda's really fucking hot. Her sickening face, her body, her attitude. Her intelligence turns me on, too, like how nothing gets past her. Like there's nothing she can't do. Like there's no challenge she can't meet head-on. And she knows it—she knows exactly how much power she has—which makes it even worse! So it's more of a hate thing I have with her. I want to fuck Miranda hard enough to put her in her damn place. But that's way too dark. I shouldn't go there. Shouldn't let myself think about that. I have enough going on in my head as it is."

Rather disturbed by that confession, I prompted her anyway, "Such as?"

Ashley chose to be honest: "I spent this whole week sitting with myself. Actually sitting with my thoughts for once. Being mindful. Facing who I really am. I'm pretty sure I spent my whole life avoiding that—always moving around, never able to sit still from how much energy I had. And for a good reason. What I saw there in my reflection, looking back at me—I'm not proud of it. Any of it. But now that the mission's over, I'm going to keep sitting with this. I'm going to keep facing it. I'm going to keep seeing it there, staring back at me in this constant mirror. It's impossible to run away now."

I already knew the answers to this, yet I wanted Ashley to keep opening up to me, to keep speaking her mind—"What did you see there? What did you learn about yourself?"

"I guess, to sum it up…I saw how selfish I am. I've always been so caught up in protecting myself. Part of that involved avoiding this mirror, avoiding the truth about who I am. I was scared that if I did look at the worst parts of me, I wouldn't want to change. That I'd double-down. That I'd fight to protect my own worst instincts instead. Like, aren't we supposed to grow? Grow up and be better people?"

"Ashley, only you have the answers to those questions," I told her. "It is possible that you will never grow. That you will never change or 'be better' in the ways you imagine for yourself."

"Maybe, but I don't wanna give up like that," she lamented. "There has to be a reason for this."

I wished to know, "Well, what is causing the worst parts of you to show themselves? What is the driving factor? Are you able to pinpoint it somehow?"

Ashley gave a sour smile. "It's Shepard," she admitted. "It's always her. Things always come right back around to her. It's unavoidable. She brings out the absolute best in me. She brings out the absolute worst in me. Even now, absolutely. Even while she's… While she's dead. She keeps influencing me… That's exactly what's so terrifying about this. I hadn't realized how much she changed me. Not until all of this happened…"

"Is this why you're reluctant to have Cerberus bring her back?"

"Honestly…? Yeah… Yeah, this is definitely part of it." Relieved at having voiced the words out loud, Ashley laughed a bit. "Setting aside the whole terrorism thing…it does seem like Miranda really cares about doing what's best for the galaxy. So I guess Cerberus has the right intentions, at least with the Collectors and the Reapers. I just feel like if we join up with them, it'll end up reinforcing things for me. I'd abandon my loyalty to the Alliance after they finally stopped screwing over my family. I'd turn my back on my family, again, in choosing to do what I want."

"You would work with Cerberus for Shepard," I pointed out, seeking to change her mind about all of this. "If she asked you to, you would. And you would do so proudly. All to serve under her again. Because without her, without her orders to follow, without her leadership and superiority, you feel lost. Lost and without purpose, without honor. So you would follow Shepard into the flames of hell itself, regardless of the organization she associated herself with. You would make any sacrifice for her. Isn't that true?"

Ashley lied to me, "I… I don't know, Liara… I don't know."

And I knew, without a doubt, that this was in fact a lie.

If anything, she was not yet ready to admit that I was right.

I humored her regardless, "Why don't you know? Why are you uncertain?"

"Look, maybe I'm terrified here, okay?" shared Ashley, holding herself around her waist. "I spent my entire life believing that I actually liked myself. That I loved who I was as a person. That I knew myself completely, all the way. When Shepard made me start questioning my sexuality, it was a major turning point for me. That was when the cracks in this mirror finally started to show. And I realized how hollow I was before. Hollow, empty, and normal, just pretending like I knew myself. I could pretend as much as I wanted while I was in the military. Having that kind of honor and purpose, like you said…"

Ashley already had her answers.

She knew what she was, just as I knew.

We both knew one another to the fullest extent possible.

Now, those answers stared right back at Ashley through our shared reflection in this window. They scowled back at her as this city's skyscrapers did, brooding in black and gold. They illuminated her in the memories of her own falseness, glowing there for the festivities, and decorated with such decorum—all false, all temporary.

Ashley whispered, "If I let Shepard come back, and she sees me like this…then she'll probably leave."

"That shouldn't matter," I insisted, gentle. "Take Shepard out of the equation. Who are you?"

Standing up now, Ashley owned the truth: "I'm nothing. I'm sick. I'm hatred incarnate. I shouldn't focus on what she thinks, how she sees me. This can't be about that." Adjusting her hoodie—Shepard's hoodie—she comforted herself again, self-soothing. "I hate when people like Miranda look down on me—because of this exact issue. It's a huge trigger. A giant reminder that I'll never be as put-together as they are. I'll never be as graceful or controlled with my emotions. I'll never be as good as them. Ever."

My heart began to race.

I felt myself beginning to sweat, so cold.

As cold as that planet of death had been, as cold as that previous night had been on the Normandy.

"Are you convinced that they know, Ashley? Is that it?"

"Yeah, they know," reviled Ashley. "They definitely know. They see it. And maybe they're afraid of it. So they put me down, acting like they're better than me. They think I'm a lost cause. And I probably am. That just means I have to live with this. Live with it out in the open instead of pretending that everything's perfectly fine." Something clicked in her hand. "Like those people out there, going fucking Christmas shopping after what happened… Shepard's dead. They know she is! They should show her the respect she deserves. They're supposed to be as miserable as you and I are! The entire galaxy is supposed to stop—for her. But they won't do it. They're so ungrateful… I want them all to burn in hell."

Breathing harder.

Paralyzed by indecision.

Fight-or-flight responses locked and malfunctioning.

All the dark energies in my skull burned alight in warning, flashing blue, flashing red, burning.

Burning harder, a sinister vision of Shepard appeared before my eyes as that red, flaming through the atmosphere of our bond together. Once the same calming presence of hers that I had grown to rely on, she reached me here directly through our connection as a ghost, as an illusion of pyres in the hottest reaches of my hellish spirit—as a demon. Seizing me, her crimson rage and despair tore at me in ways that she should not have been able to, agonizing me in my own helplessness. Technically touchless and ethereal, this demon of her grabbed my shoulders, locking me in place. Unfathomable, she scowled through to me in a menacing rage, knowing what I had done on Virmire, knowing what I had almost done, and knowing what I had meant to do to the one she truly loved—knowing, knowing, knowing everything, as only God could:

Putting Ashley first.

Taking Ashley's side.

Picking Ashley over me, again, always!

Even as a demon…

Another clicking sounded from up above, high above me.

Ashley spoke on in a deep, low, scornful acceptance, despising me: "I'm done looking over my fucking shoulder all the time, Liara. I'm sick of you holding me hostage in my own head, my own body. Like I'm some scared little girl afraid of the dark, terrified of how much power you have over me. And maybe that is what I am, but I don't wanna be that way with you. Not anymore. I won't let you ruin me again—or my dreams. Never again. I have to stop this. This ends now…on my terms."

One last click, and weighted movement moved down to me.

Down to my paralysis rendering me helpless like this, only able to cry and breathe, breathe and cry as this demon commanded, terrifying me in place.

Down to my hesitations gripping me, my life flashed as this scorn did, as did this vengeful despair of her scowl, and these flames in her sunlit eyes reflecting my own insignificance to her, all as pure evil beyond the stars—

"Whether she takes me back or not, it doesn't matter anymore." Aiming at my head, Ashley pressed her pistol against my temple. Right against my skull in her retribution as she pulled the trigger, unjustified—"I just want you gone."

Loudness as firing pain, splintering flesh and matter and existence, violet blood shot out from my skull as Death—