"The worst pain a man can suffer is to have insight into much and power over nothing." - Herodotus
Chapter 18.1 - Race Against Time: NORMANDY
Clean. Sterile. Void of anything that might be considered dangerous to the unfortunate ones resting on the Medbays cots, healing from the trauma Virmire had caused them. In itself enough to erase any feeling of sickness, a sign of healing. Or, to the contrary, a sign of decay, a reminder of illness and injury, thus causing nausea.
As with many things, it depends on one's point of view.
Shepard was no stranger to this smell. A decade in the Alliance military had given her no other choice - you made contact with it. If you wanted to, or not. And always more often than you would like.
But unlike the majority of her colleagues... the Commander had never gotten used to it.
Some had made fun of her resentment, of her fear of hospitals. They called it childish.
A soldier was paid to kill and injure, in turn getting injured and killed. That was a simple truth, as old as civilization and warfare.
Shepard had dismissed them all, and more than once made them aware of another simple truth. A truth that silenced even the most obnoxious and self-assured of her comrades.
Whenever she had to go somewhere where this smell persisted, something had gone wrong. Someone under her command had been injured. Or worse.
Somewhere along the path... she had made a grave mistake.
Shepard feared neither death, nor injury.
She feared failure, and the consequences of it.
Skin, white as a corpse. His face and the parts of his arms not hidden by hospital fatigues showed scars and bruises. He had his eyes closed, but even so, Shepard remembered how they had looked like in the brief moments he had been awake.
Normally clear and sharp, constantly darting around and drinking in the surroundings, they had turned dull, opaque, staring at some fixed point, without actually seeing it. His hands, often making small, subconscious moves lay by his side, unmoving.
He was comatose. Even then, the more she looked at Raven, the less he resembled a living being.
Virmire, Shepard thought with bitterness, was doomed from the start.
She was beyond the point of cursing. Beyond the point of rage, beyond the point of anger at herself, Saren, or anyone else. A chilly calm had encapsulated her, making her brood over the what-could-have-been.
This was the one part of her job that she hated the most.
No commanding officer ever sleeps easy at night. She didn't remember who had made that statement originally; but it had been one of the core lessons she had been taught in Vancouver Military Academy, where she had received her commission. It had been eight years. It felt like eight lifetimes.
From the moment the Council contacted me, it all went to hell. But maybe...
Soldiers died. Their lives, health and sanity were resources to be spent. Her job as a commanding officer was to make sure that whatever goals were to be achieved, the price would be kept as low as possible. The instructors had been very insistent on getting this mantra into every single cadet's brain. And Shepard agreed wholeheartedly.
Shepard had not participated in the Battle of Torfan, but she was aware of what had happened there. And she had promised herself that, should she ever meet the one individual who had earned themselves the moniker of 'Butcher of Torfan' - she would punch out their teeth.
Getting the job done no matter the cost was simply unacceptable to her.
Yet here she was. With seven wasted lives more on her soul, not to mention the salarian casualties.
And the knowledge that with the Reapers looming on the horizon, many more were to follow.
When they left Overlord team to support the three salarian teams, she already feared for the worst. All on top of the shock and emotions SOVEREIGN's revelations caused her to feel.
They had fought off the Geth forces keeping the Salarians in a deadlock when they saw the NORMANDY soar past to take care of the gunship that had Overlord pinned. Joker shot it down. But pushed his luck a bit too much.
The way her heart lurched when she saw the AA fire hit her ship, the one whose crew she was responsible for… That was something she did not intend on feeling again.
Contact with the ship was lost, and communications with Overlord were gone soon after – her last order had been to hold the bombsite at all costs. A vicious battle ensued. Jaëto squad, already suffering heavy casualties, was wiped out to a man. Mannovai and Aegohr were down to less than half of their original strength.
They bunkered down. As much as Shepard and Kirrahe wanted to link up with Overlord team, it was simply impossible to break out of their encirclement, especially without knowing about NORMANDY's status.
And then, Saren came in person. She had tried reason. It was useless.
She wasn't weak by any human standard, but the choking grip on her throat was something even she couldn't just shake off.
For a second, she feared that she had lost.
But in that moment, the NORMANDY returned. The frigate created a distraction, all she needed to shake him off. And instead of fighting back, the traitor had turned and fled the scene.
Fortunately, the hit her ship had taken was merely a flesh wound. It hurt, yes, but it wasn't too critical. The antenna had been knocked out; and Joker had to leave the planet's atmosphere to shake off their pursuers and extinguish the fire; but it had only taken a few minutes of hasty in-flight repairs and the activation of some backup systems to keep her at almost full capacity.
Even without the antenna, the ship's short-range radio was powerful enough to overcome the Geth's jammers. The survivors evacuated hastily, and under near constant fire.
And then, Raven reported in. With a shaky voice, bringing her the news she had feared, and preparing everything to sacrifice himself and everyone else who was still alive.
There was no chance in Hell Shepard would allow that to happen.
Chief Adams and Tali estimated three days in-flight and six hours of 'extra-vehicular activity' to fully repair the damage, but at least it could be done without the need to head into dry dock. They had all the spare parts they would need as well, which would allow the NORMANDY to go out to further chase down Saren without any major delay. All they needed was to head back to the Citadel to resupply and have a chat with the Council to get the green light.
A graver issue was that eight servicemen had been injured, two of them heavily, by the temporary loss of gravity and some pieces of shrapnel. In one case, a screwdriver that had not been secured properly and subsequently turned into a dart.
None of these injuries were life-threatening, though, and even Serviceman Dubyanski would be able to get back to duty within two more days, once medigel had finished healing his punctured arm.
At least a small mercy, Shepard thought. But all that isn't going to help morale too much.
Jenkin's death had been a hard blow to the crew's moral, but the loss of almost all of the ship's marines was nothing short of a catastrophe. Whenever they passed the locks between decks, it was painfully obvious that someone was missing. A feeling of unease and discontent spread like a plague.
She worked overtime, talking to people, making sure they all got their heads back in the game, or simply offering comfort whenever possible. Once more, Shepard was made aware how everyone on this ship looked to her for guidance.
On one hand, it was an honor to have kept everyone's full respect. On the other hand, it didn't make it easier to show no weakness, when in reality, all she wanted to do was to scream out loudly in frustration, rage, and worry.
This mission just became a lot more complicated. She grinned bitterly. What I would give to have you here, Anderson, and not stuck in some office on the Citadel. You would know the right words, wouldn't you?
But, as per usual... just as she wanted to show weakness for just a second, relieve herself of her CO persona, someone arrived who needed her leadership.
She sighed inwardly, and put the mask back on.
"Hello, LT. What do you need?"
"Just wanted to give you an update on how the recovery of our guys is going, Ma'am."
"Shoot."
Kaidan hadn't seen his CO like this before. And it was not a pleasant sight either.
Others might have fallen for the mask, but Alenko was a commissioned officer as well. He'd been there before. And the loss of all of his marines did not leave him unaffected either. Some of them he had known for years, valuing their character, courage or just their antics.
And now, they were gone.
He had a reputation for being a rather stoic man, unless pushed to his limits. Being a biotic enforced discipline, or else people would get hurt. Or killed. He had done that, once. He would not make the same mistake twice.
But Saren would bleed out, as slowly as possible, if he got to him first.
Kaidan rubbed his brow. The exhaustion, revelations and raw pain of the last days caught up to him. Nevertheless, he soldiered on. But his headaches only grew worse with each day that passed.
After a short and precise rundown on the ten Salarians that had suffered everything from a deep gash to a punctured lung, but were treated by the three STG paramedics that had made it out as well, and a bit lengthier description of the NORMANDY's few crew casualties, he finally broached the topic of 905 and Shepard's personal squad.
"All of those that were with us will be ready shortly. Garrus' wounds weren't deep enough to be serious, and Wrex' regenerative abilities are remarkable, even for a krogan. Instead of the four days Chakwas estimated, he'll likely be back up within a day. So much for the good news."
He took off the medical gloves that, fortunately, had no obvious sign of usage. "Ash and Raven... well. Raven was hit seven times, not counting the rounds that bounced off. Five of those injuries aren't too severe, only flesh wounds. While they will cause discomfort, with enough rest and medigel, he'll recover from those quickly enough. The sixth one was a chem-round, however. We've had to clean the wound extensively, and are currently running a blood purification program to take pressure off his liver and kidneys. He's also getting a blood transfusion from the reserves we've built in the last few months. We're going to keep monitoring his vitals. So far, his heart's significantly stressed, but not critically, and his other organs are holding up well."
Shepard closed her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if our oh-so-advanced medicine isn't killing our guys more effectively than the Geth ever could."
"You wouldn't be wrong, Commander. We're trying to cleanout the poison before it kills Raven. At this point, we've scrubbed around half of his blood." He folded his arms.
"His combat drugs worked as a double-edged sword. On one hand, they're probably the reason why Raven stayed conscious despite having that in his bloodstream. It would have killed him eventually, but until then, he probably wouldn't even notice it. But on the other hand... We don't exactly know what kinds of chemicals the Geth have been using, but the XTC definitely causes it to thin out while staying just as potent. Combined with the increased heart rate, and it poisoned him at an accelerated rate compared to what AllCom reported about other cases. I'm starting to wonder if the benefits justify the risks."
"As long as Raven keeps them as a last resort, it should not be too much of a problem." Shepard replied, slowly. "At the point where he took them, he had nothing to lose anyway."
"As you say, Commander. The last hit, the one that eventually knocked him out, caused severe blood loss, cracked his collarbone and shook his brain. And he'd already been hit by that piece of gunship debris, likely concussing him prior. Nothing critical in the long-term, again; but worth monitoring."
"That why he's like this?"
Kaidan cast a look in the young man's direction - and understood. "Maybe.", he said, simply. "Brain scans indicate that while he's had some brain injury, it's not quite that obvious."
He exhaled noisily. "If you're asking me to guess, I think that he's suffering from the early stages of PTSD. But none of us are trained psychiatrists. All I can tell you is that he's deeply exhausted, both in mind and body. Something in his mind denies him the rest he would need to fully recover. But it could just as well be that he's seen those around him die, and the stress of being literally the last man standing. Or a side-effect of the chemicals. But it's all just speculation. Until he wakes up and the concussion's cleared, we can't know for certain if all the damage we can see is temporary like we suspect with the problems being more psychological, or if it's something worse. If everything goes as expected from now on, he'll at least be physically okay. But his psyche... "
He trailed off. No one who had been at the bombsite had regained consciousness so far. Nobody knew what kind of hell they had been through. Shepard merely nodded.
"What about Ashley. Will she...?"
"No. And our medbay is at it's limit." Kaidan shifted his weight from one feet to the other.
"We're taxed enough with trying to keep four people alive at the same time. To keep it short: Our reserves and equipment are enough to keep them all alive until we reach the Citadel; but if we tried to get any one individual back on their feet, we wouldn't have enough reserves left to keep the others alive. PFC's Danners and Dickson need to be brought to Alliance facilities, ASAP. Corporal Mason also has significant head injuries. Ash is down and out for the foreseeable future. She gave everything she had. Again."
Shepard shook her head slowly. "What a mess.'' she whispered.
Kaidan didn't reply. His input wasn't needed. Instead, he cast a gaze towards another bed, in which they knew their Gunnery Sergeant lay - covered in many layers of medical tools and supplementing machinery and fighting a battle only she could decide. Fortunately, it looked like she was winning.
If all the first aid was Raven's doing, he thought, he's saved four people that day.
Kaidan had no way of knowing how wrong he was.
"I'll be making sure that the brass won't deny Ash the Purple Heart she deserves, and with what she's done for us, I will add a recommendation for the Medal of Valor." Shepard said, firmly. "This 'Williams Curse' bullshit has to end, immediately, even if I have to shout at Admiral Hackett himself. With all respect for her resilience - If she keeps it up because she thinks she needs to do this for family honor, she'll be the next to go. It was close enough as it is. If we had gone with the original plan..."
Kaidan grimaced as if he had bitten into a lemon, and his eyes darkened. Neither of them finished the thought. Needless to say the obvious.
Then, slowly, he continued: "For all intents and purposes, 905 has been wiped out. There are only six people left, and all of them are injured or otherwise incapacitated. Myself, and to an extent Raven, are the only ones that are likely to return to duty anytime soon."
Shepard showed no sign of emotion. That wasn't news to her. "What do you think about our situation, in general?"
"This may sound… well. We're short a few people, and we won't get them in time. Reinforcements would have to be transferred over, and even if Citadel HQ can provide them immediately, we'd need time to acclimatize them to our ship. Same goes for our injured technicians. We don't have that much time. If we want to stop Saren, we can't go into drydock to finish repairs, nor can we waste more time on the Citadel than we absolutely need to resupply and load off our injured and the STG survivors."
He folded his arms. "We're still good to go. We've taken a blow, yes. But not enough to take us out of action. As you know, the Salarians are showing us their gratitude by helping out with the necessary repairs, and that helps a lot. We're still combat operational. Just… without a marine detail."
"I have said this before, I think, but you're really good at analyzing things and keeping it simple, Kaidan." Shepard said and let out a small laughter. There was no trace of mirth in it. "Perhaps we should switch jobs."
"No, Ma'am, I don't think so." He replied firmly. His composure slipped for a moment. Not much. Only a twitch on his cheek, the rise of an eyebrow. "We got the job done, Shepard. As much as it hurts to have lost people, we got it done. And I would have never been able to lead them all through this, not as well as you. We can, at least, recover from this and continue our mission."
She merely nodded without confirming a thing, and bit her lip. Kaidan recognized that look.
"No commander ever goes to bed without feeling guilt, right?" He said, softly.
The reply came even quieter.
"No. No, we really don't. And if SOVEREIGN's words are true, it's only going to get worse."
She straightened up, and looked him in the eye.
"Remember: Official debrief in seventy hours. Prepare for a shitstorm. Dismissed."
Kaidan nodded, gave a short salute, and left the Commander to her thoughts.
Five days later, someone knocked on the Commander's doors.
The display to the visitor's right flashed briefly. Shepard recognized her, and let her in without a word.
The first thing Liara noticed was that the CO had traded her uniform's armored shirt for a more comfortable black hoodie, the N7 honor stripe prominently on the right shoulder.
The second was a half-filled bottle of asari-made gin, complete with a matching glass of likely Thessian origin.
"Comman– Shepard."
The human closed her eyes for a second and felt relief wash over her at the sound of this voice. Not harsh and rough, like her mother, trained by centuries in the political arena. Not the constant loud yelling that was common in combat, or just on a military vessel. Not sickenly sweet either. Just... calm. Pleasant.
"Hello, Liara. Come, have a seat."
The former scientist followed the invitation, seated herself at a respectable, yet friendly distance and received her glass with a grateful smile.
That smile turned into a slight frown as she noticed something. Shepard always used a very subtle type of lipstick. It had left its mark on her glass. But… also on the bottle.
She had too much respect for Shepard to make the obvious conclusion loudly. Shepard, in return, took a sip and chuckled.
"Captain Andersons' private stash," she explained. "He got no chance to secure it before he was dismissed from his command. Or maybe he left it for me, I don't know."
"I… did not think a man like Captain Anderson would enjoy Armalian spirits privately," Liara said, unsure of a better reply. "They have a reputation of being very sweet."
In the privacy of her thoughts, she was angry at herself. Why did Shepard's mere presence caused her to feel so insecure about herself, and to constantly talk about things that had no meaning?
"Maybe a gift from a secret admirer of his." Shepard shrugged. "Not my problem to figure out. But," with this she placed the emptied glass on the table and looked up to Liara, who had not taken more than just a small sip, "As much as I am happy that you're visiting, you aren't here to discuss alcohol and drinks with me. How can I help you?"
Liara discreetly searched her face. The Commander showed no obvious signs of intoxication. She sighed, and her glass joined Shepard's on the table.
"I… don't know if this a good time, Shepard. But… I have been thinking. Since our briefing, I have been thinking… and I need to talk to you… about Raven."
The name caused Shepard's eyes to turn a shade darker. "What has he done now?"
"No, not like that!" Liara replied quickly, accursing herself again for her insecurity. "I mean… to talk to you about him. But if this is a bad time…"
"It isn't." Liara saw Shepard's jaws ground, and her face harden ever so slightly. "Truth be told, he's been on my mind ever since. And of all the people on board this damned ship, you're probably the one I'd be most comfortable talking with. You were there. You know what I'm thinking."
Liara blushed slightly at this blunt statement, but felt herself becoming increasingly worried again.
Ever since the briefing, a mystery surrounded Raven. He'd been inscrutable enough before, being the most withdrawn of all her squadmates - with the exception of herself, Liara had to admit - but…
She paused as she recalled the scene into her mind.
"We're done here. Dismissed. Raven, Liara, please stay." Shepard concluded and rubbed her brow. It had been a dire affair, and Ashley's empty chair reminded everyone of the losses they had sustained. But almost as direly, the threat that the Reapers posed now hung above everything and everyone.
Saren had to be stopped, no matter the cost. While the objective didn't change, the necessity had just skyrocketed.
Ilos, hidden behind the Mu Relay, deep inside the Terminus Systems. The legendary Prothean world was their next target. It would mark the end - one way, or the other. Liara was certain of it. The conduit was there.
The excitement she felt as someone who had studied the Protheans her entire life mixed into her enervation from the intense meld with Shepard - and the deep concern about the desperate warning the Beacons had contained.
Liara watched on as the others filed out. Some still limped. They all, she noticed, were not holding their heads as high as they used to.
Her gaze wandered to Raven, and concern overpowered all other emotions. He had been released from the medbay the day prior, but a small mobile infusion system that was attached to his left upper arm showed clearly that he was far from full recovery. If this sign wasn't enough, everything about him just screamed exhaustion, battered, to the point of almost appearing anemic.
As the sole member of Overlord team that had recovered enough, he had given a rundown of the events prior to their rescue. A report constantly interrupted by his search for words that had nothing to do with English being his second language, a near constant shiver, and once tears flowing from his cheek. Nevertheless, he kept talking, and nobody dared to interrupt him until he was done. He dodged all questions about his own well-being, and ignored any sympathy given to him.
For the rest of the briefing, he merely watched on, or at least pretended to do so. The revelations about SOVEREIGN and Saren weren't enough to pull him out of his brooding, near-catatonic state.
"Commander, there is a comm-buoy nearby." Joker said via intercom. He himself sounded shaken, and partly blamed himself for the disaster that had befallen the entire operation. Shepard had made it very clear that without his skill, nobody would have left the planet alive. But in a rare display of humility and self-doubt, Joker wasn't fully convinced, and it showed. "I can link us in if you want to report back to the Citadel Council. You know… to warn them… about SOVEREIGN."
"Give us ten more minutes, Joker." Shepard replied. Then, with a speed that surprised Liara, Shepard moved to stand before Raven.
"How did you know?" She asked.
"... What do you mean, Commander?" Raven replied, sluggishly, and slowly rose from his seat.
"How did you know in advance just how it would turn out in the end?" Shepard folded her arms. Her gaze was intense, her features nothing but steel, and her voice on the edge of turning into ice.
Raven seemed to jolt from his shaken state.
"... I didn't, Commander." He replied. "All I knew was that this was going to be a fortress, with everything -"
"Bullshit."
The Commander interrupted him mid-sentence shifting closer until only a mere foot separated the two.
And then Shepard's professional demeanour didn't just crack. It exploded with the force of a nova.
"Every. Single. Time. You have been able to predict what would happen next. Every. Single. Fucking. Mission. You knew what would happen, didn't you?"
If that was even possible, Raven's face turned even more white. But before he could reply, Shepard just kept on. Her calm and friendly demeanour was gone entirely, the face contorted to a mere caricature of its former self.
Liara felt reminded of a yakshi, the legendary demons of old. Her eyes widen in horror. She knew that Shepard made a mistake. And she felt powerless to stop it from happening.
"On Therum, you knew Liara would be trapped - and immediately found that Geth heatsink!" Shepard snapped. "On Sharilja - an ambush inside that warehouse. Feros - You warned that colonist and you knew Fai Dan was about to shoot himself! And it only gets worse with Noveria - you knew where we'd get the keycard from, you knew we'd run into the ambush, you were the first to distrust that Iallis woman, And you predicted that Beneziah would spill the beans! And you were the only one recording, goddammit! And to top it off, you were also the one who found out about the Rachni queen. That's what's obvious!"
She almost yelled the last, but the forced her voice down. "And now, on Virmire, with what little information we had - you guessed everything correctly! Everything! Our plan was to make it a hit-and-run mission, but you suggested to set up defenses at just the right place. I may have let it slide before, Raven - but you just know too much. What. Do. You. Know?!"
"I didn't know anything! And I think that is quite obvious, Commander!"
He spat out the last word. His gaze didn't meet Shepards, and he had himself under control immediately after. But his short outburst in reply made Liara shiver.
"If I had known," he continued, voice quiet but full of bitterness, "A lot of people would still be alive. It was quite obvious that something was off at that base. I only thought what nobody else seemed to think, and spoke up. What's special about that?"
"Your timing, your predictions are just too good to be accidental!" Shepard almost literally threw her words into his face. A GARDIAN laser could not have been deadlier than her gaze of anger. Yet somehow, she kept her voice low, but no less intimidating.
"I'm asking you again: Where are you from? What is your goal? Who are you really, Jess Raven?"
He remained still. Three seconds, five, ten. Liara saw the inner conflict. Then, resolve, a decision, and maiming teeth.
"My past is dead, literally." He spoke with resolve, loud and clear. "I am Jess Raven. Born in Germany, twenty-one years old. What I was before doesn't matter anymore. My goal's to make it through this ... insane bullshit alive, and make sure that as many others as possible do as well. That's why I am here, Commander, and that is all I can tell you, and that's the fucking truth."
All fight seemed to evaporate from Shepard. Frustration, sadness, but a feeling of lost hope as well.
"If you aren't trusting me, and if I can't be sure I trust you, then I cannot have you fight alongside me. Not with so much at stake."
Pause. A fever crept into Raven's eyes, bloodshot and red against an icy blue.
"I see." He said, and slowly rose to his feet. His face turned to stone. He spoke monotonously, quietly. "If that is the case, I will pack my things and leave the ship once we reach the Citadel. Goodbye, Commander."
"You will-!" Shepard began to speak, shocked at his reaction.
Before she could continue, Raven began to sway.
"I…don't..."
He collapsed bonelessly. Instantly Shepard stepped forward into him, catching him before he could hit the floor, before Liara could even stand up.
"Medic to the comm-center, immediately!"
"Chakwas still blames herself for letting him go too early." Shepard said, grabbed for her glass, and emptied it in one motion. "She says he insisted and was - physically - good to be discharged for light duty, and that were other, more severe cases that needed treatment. It looks like he hasn't been eating since, and not slept enough, or at all, and collapsed due to exhaustion. He's still sleeping."
"He is." Liara confirmed. "Dr. Chakwas said to me that he will return to light duty once he has 'caught up sleep', as she said. She seems to believe that light work will busy him and the feel of… well, being useful will keep him from brooding too much. But she'll be monitoring his sleeping and eating closer."
Shepard nodded. "I am aware, and yes, the Doc is right - it usually helps the human mind to avoid falling into an even deeper depression. But she also said that, after this second collapse, it is unlikely that she will clear him for full duty any time soon. And if at all possible, I will not deploy him on a mission again soon."
She suddenly sighed, and closed her eyes.
"I messed it up." Shepard said gloomingly. "I messed up in a way that would cause good old Anderson to send me back to basics." She clenched her fists, but slowly relaxed them. "I just wanted an answer, without regard to his shape. He is not a traitor. Not on Saren's payroll. If he were, he wouldn't continue to throw himself into harm's way the way he does. He would also not need all the training we gave him. It just wouldn't make any sense, in any case, in any possible scenario. I know that now. I should've known before."
"I agree, Shepard." Liara used the small break as Shepard refilled her glass to speak up. The young Asari tried to keep her voice as smooth and calm as possible, knowing that it would help soothe her friend's nerves. "He has lost too much blood, if you will, for all our sakes. Raven is our friend, Shepard. He is quiet, he doesn't tell a lot - but his actions speak for him."
"But I needed to know, Liara!" Shepard spoke up. Liara's presence made her lose all feeling for the need to keep her CO persona. "I still need to know. There is something. Something more than he lets on. We've checked the story he tried to tell us, Anderson and I. It's bullshit. There's a high chance he's been lying. But I just don't know why. Does he not trust us? He predicted too much. His thoughts move too far from everyone else. You heard him during the briefing for Virmire, Liara. That is not someone who goes in blind, like everyone else!"
Shepard interrupted her monologue to empty her glass again, and moved to refill it once more. A slender blue hand stopped her in her path. Shepard looked up into Liara's pleading eyes, and understood. She moved both her glass and the bottle out of sight.
Liara felt her heart jumped into her throat.
"I... have a... theory. A hypothesis, if you will. Why Raven behaves like he does. And I think it accounts for all factors we know."
"Shoot." Shepard sat down on her cot never looking into her eyes. "I need answers. If you have anything, I must know. I need to understand what the fuck is happening!"
Liara flinched. The last words had been almost yelled in anger.
"I have… watched Raven for quite some time now. And I agree with you - there is something about him that is different from all of us." The asari allowed herself a tiny smile. "Even if one keeps in mind that we all are unique in our own ways."
Shepard didn't appear to react at all. Which caused Liara to clasp her glass even firmer.
"I have done extensive research on the human Isolationist movement and its splinter groups, looked into historical data, psychological reports and the socio-economic backdrop…"
"Very thorough, Dr. T'Soni." Shepard interrupted her with a humourless grin.
"Well, I do have a doctorate in archeology, and exhaustive research of my subject matter is quite important." Liara replied a bit defensively. "Yet still, I have not found enough evidence to know for sure, beyond a reasonable doubt, if he is lying or not."
"I know, right?" Shepard chuckled and leaned back. "Anderson's been trying to find out for the last five months, too. And he's been thorough as well, I can tell you. Did you know that there's not one, but two ancient German noble houses with that name? Von Raven and Von Raben, the latter meaning Of Ravens in German?"
Liara's face was a sight to behold.
"I mean, I wouldn't put it past that guy to fool us all into thinking he chose an English name by chance," Shepard continued, still feeling amused at her colleague's astonishment, "But I think it's rubbish to even look into it. Still, they're German, the name fits, they're ancient families and could fit into an Isolationist profile… so Anderson got someone on it. I'm still not sure if that's dedication - or obsession."
She shook her head and sat upright. "One way, or the other, it doesn't matter as much. The other question is more pressing by far. What does he know, that we others don't see?"
"I do not think Raven knows any more than we all do, Shepard."
The Commander paused. "You're sounding pretty certain, Liara. Please, explain..."
"I have tried to analyze what I have seen or heard from him as well. But maybe my point of view is different - I tried to use the same methods I would use for conducting a motive analysis in my studies. This is important for you - so I wanted to do it right."
"I appreciate it, Liara. What did you find out?"
"I have analyzed all of the suggestions and thoughts he has voiced so far, including what I have been told about…" Liara blushed slightly, "Well, the predicament that you found me in, at my digsite on Therum. Raven did guess the situation correctly, as I was told."
Shepard furrowed her brows. "That's where I started having suspicions myself. His guess was just too close to the truth."
"But I think that it makes perfect sense, given what we know about him. If he is speaking the truth about his upbringing, or not - but his entire way of thinking is different. I believe that to him, it is second nature to always consider the unlikely options first, ignoring what appears to be obvious to most."
Liara leaned back and closed her eyes to keep herself focused. Shepard watched her intently.
"I have… hacked his omni-tool, Commander. I am not proud of it, and I feel disgusted with myself," she added quickly before Shepard could make her exasperation known. "But I felt like I needed more information to understand Raven. Although… I think I felt a bit uneasy after you confronted him, and wanted to know if he was indeed innocent." She bowed her head. "I know I crossed a line, Shepard. I am sorry about it."
"...Liara." Shepard said slowly, once a few moments had passed. She spoke clearly, sternly.
"I am grateful for your help - but yes, this is a line we cannot cross, not as long as he's not formally under investigation - and I have no intention of going down that route."
She sighed. "But now it's been done. Don't dwell on it too much, just - promise me that you won't do that again. Tell me what you found."
"I… No. It is for the best if you see this yourself." Liara gestured with her omnitool, grateful that Shepard was in no mood to go into detail on her actions. Truth be told, she didn't know herself what had gotten into her when she saw his omnitool on a table outside his line of sight in the medbay.
The familiar orange glow illuminated both of their faces. From thin air, an image materialized. Shepard recognized the picture as the one she used when she told her squad about Virmire.
But all around the image, there were small notes. They looked to be handwritten - drawn with a finger, or one of these small sensor-pens that the omnitool's reader could pick up.
This fits, she thought, with a hint of amusement. Raven looking at this picture in thought and writing his notes into the air. Yeah, I can see that.
Part of the writing was in German. Part of it in English. Part almost unintelligible recorded handwriting, part actually readable, part computer text. And some lines connecting bits to each other, some arrows showing the line of though, some circles to highlight specific areas.
"According to the file information, he's been working on it a day before our final mission briefing, for no less than three hours." Liara said and watched Shepard from the corner of her eye. "I have analyzed everything he wrote, and I am amazed. Here, look at this."
She pointed at three lines that stood a bit apart. One said: "STG Vs Uns - Zu ähnlich!"("Too similar!"), one that appeared to be a quote: "Insanity = doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results (Einstein? Whatever)", and both of them were connected to a third line, stating: "Must change approach. STG light, hit and run, was suppressed. Us too. Different methods?"
A smaller, dotted line was connected to a train of thought regarding the potential enemy strength on Virmire: "STG team suppressed." - "Schwere Flak." ("heavy AA") - "radio jammers confirmed."- "Fortress? Beachhead?" - "What DEF we have/can build?" and, underlined twice: "beachhead in base, extracting from there. DON'T COMMIT. Might be wrong."
Other clusters appeared to be information about the Geth and Saren, past encounters, Raven's own theories. Shepard didn't understand some parts of it, like "Remember Feros! Stay flexible. React if necessary.", which probably only made sense from Raven's perspective. Others, like "see what Shepard thinks, probably won't be acceptable", made her grind her teeth.
Liara felt immensely proud and nervous as Shepard read all of it and followed Raven's line of thoughts. They built upon each other, followed logical principles and finally lead to the conclusions he had voiced during the briefing. Her Commander's facial expression was hard to decipher. A sort of pride was in there, a bit of confusion, and certainly more than a bit of astonishment.
And more than just a bit of sorrow.
"I… don't know what to think." Shepard admitted. "On the one hand, it all makes sense now. You are right. All of what he said… if you see where he's coming from, you know how he came to the conclusions. But on the other…"she furrowed her brows, "why didn't he just.. Come and talk to me?"
"I have a theory to that as well, Shepard." Liara hurried to reply, knowing how much her Commander was distraught at the idea of one of her squad not trusting her.
Shepard had done a lot to try and fully include everyone, understand them, be not their superior, but their equal. To see how Raven had withheld all of his thoughts from her - and not for the first time - would be more than just a thorn in her side.
"The quick scan of his tool showed me that there must have been several documents like that, but they have been deleted and overwritten long since, and I was unable to restore them. Apparently, Raven does an analysis like this for every mission we carry out. But.. he only voices his conclusions on very rare occasions. When he himself believes that there is sufficient evidence, for example."
Shepard nodded. "I spoke to him the night before we arrived on Therum. He was working on the Mako, during his sleep shift. He only told me what he thought after I directly asked him… It makes sense now, in retrospect. That still doesn't explain why he just… doesn't talk. He's not exactly the type of guy who is too shy to voice his opinion."
"I believe that is actually the case, Shepard. While I hesitate to call it 'shy', I do believe that he has so much respect for you personally, that he doesn't want to cloud your judgement."
"... How so?"
"I might be wrong, but… whenever I have seen him interact with any of us, he is quite informal and relaxed. Well, by his standards, that is." Liara explained as Shepard listened, face clouded with worry. "But whenever you enter the room, he immediately sits a bit straighter, immediately stops talking, watches your every move. I think he respects you too much to, in his mind, bother you with his inconclusive hypothesis."
Shepard was quiet for a minute. "So… you are absolutely and a hundred percent certain that he is on our side and that nothing he has said or done so far is the result of inside knowledge, but instead a combination of logical thinking with a healthy dose of intuition. And he's too respectful, or insecure, or something that he withholds his thoughts. And as I can see from his sketches and diagrams," she pointed at the orange schematics and notes still displayed in glowing orange, "The first thought he has is always directly the opposite of what appears to be obvious.", she summarized
Liara nodded. "Further proof would be how he immediately commented on a potential schism within the Geth collective, only moments after you handed us the intelligence report, and contrary to most of us."
Shepard groaned. "Why. What is his background? Where and how was he raised or trained like that? This is everything, but standard for a human - even for those that are claiming to be contrarians or lateral thinkers. Keep in mind that he's - at a most! - 23 years old, and that's the highest estimate that Dr. Chakwas was able to make."
Liara shifted. "I do not want to make any suggestion, Commander. I am … not very well versed in human culture, and I find it difficult to judge. He may just tell the truth."
"If I would ask you to make a suggestion anyway - what would you say?"
"I would say that he was raised in a contrarian, or scientist family. Possibly with ties to contrarian and… 'obscure' research, or even revolutionist tendencies."
"Or he is telling the truth, and being forced into an unknown world and realizing that he had been lied to by his own family made him change his entire approach to problems. He has been trained, or trained himself, to distrust obvious conclusions - but without outright rejecting them."
Liara closed her eyes for a second. Shepard wondered how much Liara and Raven had in common in that regard. Then, the young asari spoke up again.
"'There are always two sides to a medal'. That is a quote he has written on multiple documents, and often in association with sources he quoted. And another one that I find curious: 'Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth. Yet there is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.' Apparently, the latter was taken from a fictional character, Sherlock Holmes, written in the early twentieth century of the human calendar. I find it interesting that he would be aware of a fictional character that has been published - you are grinning?"
"Apologies, Liara." Shepard chuckled and tried to cover her mouth with her hand at the sight of her completely perplexed expression. "I didn't mean to offend you, but I have read the majority of Sir Doyle's novels and short stories, and am aware of that quote. It is one of Holmes' core principles. Sherlock Holmes is practically a synonym to 'master detective'. Even after more than three centuries."
"That… explains why Raven knows it." Liara shifted again. "Regardless, I cannot give you a conclusive answer. There is far too much we don't know. All I can say is that Raven is… unique. Even among you humans."
"On that, we can agree, Liara." Shepard replied, softly.
Twice, the Commander had toyed with the idea to ask Liara to meld with Raven and just take the truth from him. But she was well aware of how the Asari viewed melding without consent as the worst form of mental rape; and she wouldn't ask her friend to do anything like that.
In actuality, Shepard herself felt disgusted by the very idea.
They both fell into a comfortable silence, each following their own thoughts.
"I will talk to Raven when he feels better.", Shepard said a while later. "I need to apologize. And, may I ask a favour, Liara?"
"Anything, Shepard." Liara smiled.
"May I ask you to keep an eye on Raven? I… honestly, I don't think it would be a good idea to talk to him myself, at least not for as long as he is so obviously hurting and wounded. You, on the other hand…"
"Of course. I will watch over him."
Shepard smiled and had to suppress only small fits of envy.
As both rose to return to their respective duties, she couldn't hold herself back, and hugged her somewhat surprised friend.
"Thank you, Liara."
"...you…are welcome, Shepard."
The Commander smiled as they parted. "My name is Jane."
"Thank you, Jane."
Liara averted her gaze and hurried off. But when Shepard saw how her cheeks turned a very dark shade of blue while having obvious trouble keeping a big smile off her face, she felt her heart grow lighter.
Then, with a heavy sigh, she returned to her duties.
Not before carefully closing the bottle of alcohol, and storing it in some dark corner of her cabinet.
My memory isn't the sharpest. Yet there is something I do remember clearly.
And overwhelming feeling of cold. Both physically and in my mind.
Forced into an observing role, I helplessly watched as all sense of control over the situation was taken from me.
My worst demons had come back to haunt me. Depression, in one word. In more words, self-loathing. The feel to simply not being good enough. Self-doubt that had nothing to do with any semblance of modesty or healthy self criticism, but was outright crippling instead.
I know, I keep rambling on about it and you do not know why, dear readers. But I'm afraid I will have to keep you in the dark about the Why? For a bit longer. All I have to say right now is that I am partially happy about my bouts of amnesia. It can be a blessing as well. If we would remember everything that happened in our lives… I am unsure if the human psyche could handle that.
I digress; again.
I've come to view depression as a simple illness. Maybe that's naive, but I like to think that just like a physical disease, it can be cured. Gives me straw that I can hold on to; Keeping matters simple and easy to grasp. Which is far better than having to think about the gaping abyss of the human mind.
That being said, it is a truly fiendish disease. Comparable to a cancer, in some ways. Whatever may be the original reason for it to emerge, it is a self-fueling circle.
Once the depressive thinking has started, you will colour everything in a negative light. You don't even know that it is happening. You think that your conclusions make logical sense, and the deeper you go, the less you're able to see the obvious discrepancies between what the facts are, and how you are viewing them.
By continuing to paint things in a darker colour, you will reach the point at which you desperately try to shield yourself from any perceived risk.
A, for lack of a better word, healthy human mind is willing to get new 'input', take on certain risks to achieve this input. A simple example: Seeking a conversation. You may enjoy it, you may dislike the result, but generally, you will have some new information to process, and will feel good about it.
When you're depressed, you don't dare take on this risk. Every bit of risk that you may get a bad result and feel worse for it, appears amplified a hundredfold to you. You'll stop seeking input altogether. The fact that at the same time, this leaves you with nothing but emptiness and the bad feelings you already have, while at the same time cutting off any chance for your mind to find things that are good for you… well, you no longer notice this. And the longer this lasts, the more overwhelmed you are by your own life.
At the stage at which I was prior to my… trespassing into the world of Mass Effect, I had become nigh paralyzed. I often sat around, brooding, feeling like my brain was no longer connected to my body. That I had no control over what was happening, or what I was doing. Deeply exhausted, but not physically. I still had enough bits and pieces left working to survive and run my day-to-day life, but the challenges amassed, to the point of becoming too much to bear.
I'm painting with a very broad brush here; but I think you know what I am trying to say. I am also sorry for having to yet again fit another lengthy explanation into this story; but it felt necessary so that you can understand what exactly affected me.
You may have wondered why I have reacted just as strong about my entrance into this universe, as I have - Panicking, running away headlessly, needing hours to calm down in a dark and secluded corner.
I guess it is fair to say that the dangerous isolation of my mind did not take too well to having the rug pulled out right under me. While painful and numbing, being forced to act simply to survive had driven the thickest of fog away from my mind.
But maybe you recall me mentioning an annoying dark little cloud staying with me for a long time.
While forced into the background, it had never been truly gone. And now, exhausted as I was, not only from Virmire, but from months upon months of needing to keep the secret, of staying on my guard and trying to fit in, all the while needing to learn how to fight the very real dangers of this galaxy - and now knowing that I had caused the death of my squadmates…
It made me pay.
Should the following description lack emotional depth, then I'm not sorry about it.
Some things are best left unsaid.
Of my time in the NORMANDY's medbay, I cannot recall a lot. I just sat or lay there, staring off, mind running hot, but in neutral/no-load, the thoughts not connected to any action or to each other. What I was thinking about, I don't know, but you and I can make an educated guess. Whenever someone tried to talk to me, I made noncommittal noises, talking seldomly or very little, and must have seemed to be very reclusive.
I cannot remember the face of a single person that talked to me, and at the same time I too often remembered the faces of those that we'd left on Virmire.
My physical wounds, while severe, were not too difficult to treat, and after three days I was discharged - truth be told, I needed to get out of there - and returned to light duty. I don't even remember what that 'light duty' was, only that I must've been quite bad at it - considering that I didn't sleep much, or at all, that I couldn't swallow a bite and drank too little as well, while smoking as many cigarettes in two days as I would normally have done in two weeks. I threw up twice, hiding the fact from Chakwas as good as I could, and generally did my best to inflict as much damage on my already exhausted body as I could without consciously harming myself.
All the while I avoided my teammates, even as they came to talk to me. I still feel bad about it, but just to have them in my physical proximity hurt and caused discomfort. I hid as good as I could from everyone, but on a frigate, there aren't all that many places to go to.
Except the Marine's ready room. Which I avoided. The silence that now reigned supreme and each individual's possessions would've inevitably cause a complete breakdown.
We were debriefed. Which was yet another disaster.
Following my second medbay stay, I was put to work again - but under strict orders from Chakwas to return to her three times a day to monitor my body and take my meals under her surveillance.
Being forced into company helped a little, and talking to her put my mind at least partially back into working order. We didn't discuss anything major, at least as far as I remember; but it still forced me out of the complete isolation I had done to myself.
The good news: I stopped causing more-or-less active harm to my body. The bad news: With a mind that was not entirely clouded, drugged and numbed, I had to yet again face reality.
Shepard had me in her sights. The truth was close to be revealed. And my zealous attempts to cling to it, even if only holding on to the parts of it that were actually true, had caused me to be officially sidelined.
"If you aren't trusting me, and if I am not sure I can trust you, then I cannot have you fight alongside me. Not with so much at stake."
That statement left no room for interpretation. Chakwas' assessment of me didn't, either. She broke the news as carefully as she could.
My reaction, now that I see more clearly, is a chilly reminder for me that I must fight back whenever the dark thoughts come back.
There simply was no reaction at all. None. I calmly and dead on the inside watched as everything I had worked for went up in smoke.
I think it's fair to say that I turned extremely fatalistic in the wake of these events.
I would have to flee the NORMANDY, continue the fight from somewhere else. Maybe the Citadel, maybe Omega. I didn't doubt for a second that that was the logical way I had to go, oblivious to the fact that my decision was dictated by depressive thinking.
That is, if I could ever muster up the strength to do that, and the trust in my own initiative to actually get things moving.
Within a single, fateful hour on Virmire, the universe had ruined the efforts of almost half a year. That's not something that wouldn't leave a mark. If anyone claims they would've simply shrugged it off, they belong in an asylum.
I realized, slowly and painfully, that I had made a crucial mistake. Not just on Virmire. But in the entirety of my thought processes and decision making. In most other situations, I would've likely accepted that, but then moved on and see what I could do about it.
As it was, I didn't do anything. I did as I was told with my work, then slept, or stayed out of everyone's way. I didn't join them when they had their post-shift meetings in the mess hall, I didn't even talk to, and generally avoided Garrus who was – nominally – working together with me to restore the Mako. I even went as far as picking his sleep shifts as my working shifts.
I'm not the kind of guy that locks himself up in a room in such situations. People would always know where I am. Instead, I stayed out, but actively dodged everyone. Sometimes I even slept in some hidden corner, like between spare parts, when fatigue finally caught up and sent me into a restless dream, from which I woke more than once gasping for air.
I knew that they were worried about me. But with the looming threat of being kicked from the ship, my delirious mind figured that pushing everyone away would make the eventual 'farewell' easier.
What I did succeed with was to cause a split between myself and my teammates, to the point that they stopped looking for me.
I didn't speak to Shepard after debrief. Whenever she showed up, I not only avoided any contact, I actively stayed out of sight as much as I could. All had been said, or so I thought.
Three people however I couldn't just shake off that easily. One went by the name of Liara, the other was called Tali. And Dr. Chakwas, of course.
For all the bad memories I'm glad to have lost; this once, I am actually sorry to report that I don't remember the details.
And that sucks. I feel like I'm disregarding them, despite them being there for me when I needed them, even if I didn't notice at the time.
Having to report to Chakwas for every meal felt like punishment. After all, whenever I did, I was in very close proximity to the people that suffered because of me and I was forced to look reality into its ugly face.
On the other hand, Chakwas still treated me like I belonged to the team, even in spirit, that I had not been forgotten. The thought that I had actively worked towards feeling forgotten didn't even cross my mind, and those of you who have been through a depression yourselves know exactly what I am talking about. She small-talked with me, was wholeheartedly worried about my health, and even accepted that I simply didn't want to talk about my inner life. Although I still felt bad, being in the medbay kept me at least a bit grounded in reality.
More even – it gave me something invaluable. A small chance to regain the initiative, and fight back against the crippling I'd inflicted on myself.
I hesitated to take it. But Liara and Tali made sure I didn't waste it.
I will be honest with you. The two of them still think that I can't remember what they did for me. But while some details are eluding me, I remember enough.
It's just that I don't want to talk about those moments. I've opened up enough already. I want to keep some things for myself.
And No. I can already hear the whispered gossip somewhere. I had no interest in Tali that way, and not in Liara either. Everyone could see clearly that Liara was more than besmitten by our Commander, and I would've never dared to interfere - except for progressing their relationship further. But I had no idea how, and, frankly, other things on my mind, and even if some sort of a spark existed - which I know that it didn't, neither with Tali, nor with Liara - then I was, at this point in time, simply incapable of feeling it.
All I will say is that I was surprised by them caring for me, their brother in arms who had fallen from grace, as much as they did.
They proved themselves as friends - something I desperately needed.
It still wasn't enough. Not quite.
But... Isn't it strange, how sometimes help comes from the most unexpected of people?
Liara found Raven deep in the NORMANDY's bowels.
Slouched against the wall of the Marine's ready-room as if he had his spine broken. Knees pulled up to his chin and staring, just a blank stare.
Liara felt tempted to pull him to his feet. To do something to break him out of his sorry state. But she knew that despite his posture, he had noticed her. His muscles had tensed up considerably, and if provoked, he would lash out.
So, Liara decided to join him.
Raven didn't move as she sat down half a meter from him. But he immediately relaxed, at least slightly.
They sat there in silence for a minute. Liara didn't want to force a conversation on her squadmate, and was at a loss about what to say.
"I should feel something, you know."
Raven's voice was surprisingly crisp and clear.
"I should feel grief. I should be sad. But all I feel is guilt - and angry. At myself.'
But the clarity came at the cost of emotions.
"It's almost as if I'm regretting having lost some bloody chess pieces, and not my teammates. I'm disgusted."
Liara remained silent. She understood instinctively that the young human needed to vent.
"I should have just kept my mouth shut. Why? Why did I do that? Shepard doesn't need my bloody help, she's both smarter and better than I am anyway."
"For as long as I have known you, this is the only time you guessed wrong. And even then, your guess was better than that of any one of us" Liara looked at him. Raven's blank and wide-eyed expression felt too difficult to bear in silence. The way he battered himself over it all was distressing.
He merely snorted, and his expression only went darker.
"A couple of lucky guesses don't make me a fucking god, Liara. I should've known that. You know, leave it with the ones that actually know what they're doing. But what did I do instead? I felt so fucking above everything that I decided to do better. And use people that trust me to do my job as a fucking bargain chip. "
And suddenly, he went critical.
"AND NOW I DON'T EVEN FEEL GUILTY ABOUT THEM, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
It echoed across the room, off the steel walls, and vibrated in her bones; fading slower than sound should.
A weight settled on Liara's chest, making it difficult to breathe.
Yet Raven sounded tired when he spoke again, a few seconds or a decade later.
"Shepard's orders are clear enough. She doesn't trust me. This means I will leave the ship when we reach port next time around, and not waste any of your time any longer."
"... You are not wasting anybody's time, Jess. Not mine, not our teammate's. And not Shepard's time either."
Being called by his presumed first name made Raven perk up, even if only slightly.
"Nobody blames you for what happened on that planet. You are not the one who needs to feel responsible for all of it."
Liara put as much conviction in her voice as she could muster. It wasn't difficult. All she had to do was to think of her mother, and how she had been tormented and abused by the unfathomable evil that had now finally been unveiled. "Saren is the one to blame for everything. He alone is guilty. As are his apparent masters - the Reapers."
"You should, though." Raven merely whispered now. "My mistake cost six people their lives. Six. All of them stood with me when I needed them. And in the one moment it mattered, I got them all killed."
She couldn't see his eyes, but Liara was fairly certain that he was crying.
"And I don't even feel sorry about them. All I'm feeling guilty for messing up, not killing six, as I should. I should feel something. But all I feel is that I've failed. And there is no excuse for that."
"You have not failed. In fact, you were the only one anticipating what we all failed to see."
She stretched out her hand and placed it on Raven's arm. He flinched, but didn't flee.
"You have gone above and beyond so often. And yet, you separate yourself from us. You do not need to carry your burden alone, Raven. We have not forgotten what you did for us. Neither did Shepard. She already spoke with me, and trust me - she feels horrible for treating you as she did."
Raven looked up, confused, and Liara found her theory confirmed.
"You cannot predict everything. You don't need to feel responsible for everyone, and everything. Nobody has full control over what's happening. Unfortunately, 'bad luck' does exist. Saren's forces were strong, our situation less than fortunate. Either way, we would have lost people - and thanks to your intervention, many who would have died will now live. No one person has the strength to save everyone. Not even Shepard."
Minutes passed where neither made a move, Liara still touching Raven's arm.
Then, he sighed. "I will have to leave now. I need - time. And some quiet. But…"
For the first time, he met her eyes directly. And while red and puffy, not alone from an obvious lack of restful sleep, there was still a hint of strength.
"Thank you, Liara." He smiled thinly, and gently removed her hand. "It felt… good. To just talk for a bit."
"I agree." she replied honestly. "Please, come talk to me whenever you feel like you just want to talk. Even if you think that there is no reason. I won't turn you away."
"I'm not sure I will. There's a lot I need to think about. But… thank you for the offer. And I mean it."
Liara smiled thinly as Raven left.
Her words hadn't fully pierced the shell, she was aware of that.
But… the seed had been planted. In time, it would carry fruit, and Raven awake from his hibernation.
Nobody in Shepard's team stood alone. Liara had come to realize that, and it filled her with gratitude.
Raven had helped them all, in his way. She was hopeful that Raven would eventually realize that his squadmates would help him as well. That he too, was truly a part of the team.
"Private Raven? May I have a word?"
I looked up, confused.
Not as much by not knowing who said that at first, actually - more by the fact that someone would talk to me at all. I had specifically chosen the one shift where literally nobody else would be working on the C/E deck to continue my work on the Mako.
Talking with Liara and Tali had given me food for thought, but I needed some peace and quiet to process it. Something to work on, to occupy my hands and free my mind, was also useful. And nothing was better for that purpose than our battered Mako APC/IFV.
Then I realized that it was Captain Kirrahe. And my confusion turned into apprehension mixed with an undetermined feeling of aversion.
"Sir." I replied curtly. I didn't salute, simply for the fact that he wasn't my superior. "What can I do for you?"
Kirrahe had been wounded during the evacuation. A bandage around one of his horns and another one at his left upper arm were only the obvious signs. Still, he stood proud and without any obvious signs of pain or discomfort.
"I have noticed that you seem to suffer from the consequences of your actions during our mission." He stated, matter-of-factly. "You have won my respect with those actions. Since I am not a part of your chain of command, I may be able to put your mind at ease and offer you some advice without having to worry about psychological reports or similar measures."
This was a surprise. Since our evacuation, the Salarians had mostly stuck to themselves, preferring the C/E deck and their military rations over mingling with the Alliance personnel and making their way to the mess hall. Even their wounded, except for the truly bad cases, were treated here. Two STG medics had made it out, and they had their hands full. Yet even then, they didn't request any help from us.
I'm not sure if they just had the supplies and didn't want to mess with it, or if they suffered from Special Operations syndrome - as the Alliance service personnel called it.
I sighed, wracking my wrecked mind for an answer. "I… guess you are right, Captain. I feel like losing our people is my personal fault. After all, I made the suggestions that led to them being killed. And I can only blame myself for it."
The words came over my lips with surprising ease. Maybe that was because Kirrahe was someone I didn't felt personal responsibility towards.
"Predicting enemy action as you did is commendable." Kirrahe said. "Your suggestions were sound, your actions under fire were dutiful. You should be proud of them. You should be proud of having stepped up when it was necessary."
My ears heard those words, my mind failed to process them.
"I wished I had not said a word." I said quietly. "If we had only deployed the bomb, not bothered with any defending - which, ultimately, only cost us time - then at least four people would still be with us. I failed. It is that simple, and there's no excuse for it."
When you are depressed, you tend to repeat yourself like a broken record - without being aware that you do.
"That argument has no logic to it, Private."
I stood there, open mouthed, brain stunned. If a salarian is even capable of making a stony face the way a human is, then the Captain had just turned into granite.
"Sir, I - "
"No. Listen to me."
Kirrahe made a slashing motion, silencing me. One motion later, he pointed at the row of stretchers that covered a large part of the deck.
"For every soldier of your group that gave their life, Private," he spoke quietly now, "Two of my men will return home."
I didn't know what to say. Dimly I realized, only now, that there were far more salarians around than in the game.
"It is a useless waste of time if an officer puts emotional blame on themselves. Matters have been decided already, and changing the past is not within your power." Kirrahe placed a three-fingered hand on my shoulder - a gesture that wasn't common among salarians and he had no doubt learned in his STG training. "A good officer will instead use all of his mental capacity to address two problems. One being what happened, how it happened, and what lessons can be learned. The other one: What is within your reach, how you will manage to get it done, and to make sure that your previous failure does not happen again - and your comrades did not die for nothing."
With surprising force, he turned me slightly so that we looked straight at each other.
"This is the reason our enemies fear the Special Tasks Group, Private." He exclaimed. "We do not have the numbers of the turian Legions and fleets. We maybe are not as skillful as an asari Commando unit, that has centuries to master their abilities. But with our ability to think in all directions, to know what will happen before it does, and the willingness to do whatever it takes, we STG specialists can make even shallow cuts have the same effect as a decapacitation. Sometimes, we make a mistake - but we never make the same mistake twice.""
He nodded at me.
"You would have made for a good STG recruit, Private Raven. You have potential. Despite our losses, our mission was a success, and your actions and the sacrifice of your marines have earned Humanity a great deal of respect from my superiors and the whole of our species. You have nothing to blame yourself for. I hope that we can work together again in the future."
Kirrahe stepped back and returned to his unit. He left me behind without looking back once, but deep in thought.
A few hours later, I stood a few meters from my teammates in the mess hall and shivered like I had done months ago, just before engaging Fist's goons in the Citadel's dark underbelly.
Liara was the first to notice me, how I had to fight myself to not run away. And she beckoned me over with the tiniest of smiles.
It was so damn hard to close the distance. Every step felt like a mile on uneven ground, and I feared that I would trip and fall over.
But when I finally reached them, and didn't find any hate, disgust, or anger - but compassion, sympathy and understanding, I finally understood that I had been accepted back into their midst.
And for the first time since the fateful hour of Virmire, I felt some weight taken off my shoulder.
Not enough to really lessen the burden of guilt, shame, or weariness of my shoulder…
… but enough to shake off the lethargy, and start facing the consequences.
I would have to earn everyone's full trust again - especially, the trust in myself. To no longer associate my alias 'Raven' with disgust, and to be able to look into a mirror and be able to say 'I did this, and I can stand by it.'
But it was possible, and I was determined to make the most of that chance.
A/N: Good day, people!
Before we go into the actual A/Ns, two things I need to point out before everyone loses their minds:
One: I am NOT omitting and/or am too lazy to write the scene Raven mentioned, but didn't describe. If Raven mentions something that may be of general interest, rest assured, it will be described - at a later date. Expect a 'throwback', a 'memory' later down the line.
Two: Raven not quoting Einstein or Holmes correctly was a deliberate choice, not a mistake.
Ok, now that is done… While I apologize for not upholding my own schedule (once more…), I don't feel particularly guilty about it. Over the course of the last few months, I have had to write so many papers that simply the thought of sitting down and writing something 'for fun' had me grimace in disgust. Right now, I feel very happy if I can relax and rest in the evenings at all - and in order to get myself into 'the mood' to make some actual progressing the story, I need to work on it for at least two hours in a row. And, frankly, nowadays I am often lacking those two hours, or have no mind for it.
Oh, and also - remember when I said 'I will strictly limit myself to 8.000 words'?
Well, this one has 13.000 again.
Whoops.
According to my Beta, I am now supposed to say something along the lines of, and I quote: "But, despite being late, I come bearing gifts! A really large chapter. Large enough that it counts as on schedule if I account for it's size! :P"
You guys sort that out yourselves. I'll sip my beer in the meantime, if that's alright. It's 4:18 AM my time as I am writing this, and we've been working at this for the last 7 h straight - Cut me some slack, wil y'all?
Additionally, I still think that dialogues are my weak point - and the ones in here, I HAD to get right. Which means: Weeks of running everything by 5CW, correcting some lines, erasing others - to the point of deleting entire paragraphs. This time around, for a good reason - they WERE rubbish. If your Beta tells you that something's rubbish, and you think a few days after writing it, that it's rubbish - it probably is just that bad.
Thanks once more to 5 Coloured Walker for his patience with all the rubbish that's in my head, and for keeping it from creeping into the story.
On a more serious note: To make things worse, part of the depression I had thought gone came back a few weeks ago, and I spent around two weeks fighting it, all while trying to get work done.
Remember what I had Raven say above, about feeling trapped inside your own mind? I am all too familiar with that feeling. It has cost me two years of my life.
Seriously: If you are suffering from depression: Get. Yourself. Professional. Help. I cannot stress it enough. It's neither your fault, nor is it something ya need to deal with on your own. Its an illness, simple as - but a cure exists. Grab it.
I honestly cannot tell you guys when the next update will happen, as I will remain busy for quite some time in the near future. On the other hand, with this chapter done and dusted, it isn't that far to go anymore.
Sometimes I wish I could do it like some other authors, that manage to release multiple thousand words per chapter, per week. I dunno what kind of drugs those guys are taking, but…
Ah well. I think the important part is that I stick by it and get it done eventually. Which I, as stated on multiple occasions, have every intention to do.
Might I suggest that you consider following to be notified of the newest updates, whenever they may happen? Or, might I be so bold and ask of you to favourite this story as well? Dare I even recommend writing a review, which I always answer via PM? (Seriously, a lot of reviews have then turned into a few nice PM conversations that gave me ideas and were genuinely fun for me. Thank you all!)
By the way, I still haven't decided what to do in ME 2 in terms of 'which way should I tell the story'. I like sticking to a canonical order, but as you have seen in this chapter in particular, I'm growing more and more fond of breaking the narrative up a bit. I think that having you, dear readers, experience the gap in years similar to Shepard has its merits. But I haven't decided just yet.
I guess that's all for tonight. Today. Whatever.
Thank you all for continuing to read this, I hope the mistakes that undoubtedly have sneaked in aren't too horrible, and I do hope to see you around in Chapter 18.2!
And now, I think my Beta has some choice words to say.
Editor's Note:
He exaggerates somewhat. There was I think one section that had me say 'Why? No.'. And one paragraph where it took a bit to get through regarding medical stuff which to be fair I probably haven't gotten quite write, but in that case I freely proclaim I'm not a clinician. But this chapter has gone pretty well, and I also claim some of the delay for myself. There may or may not have been a week where his muse fell silent probably because I just wasn't there to help keep it talking. Movings a bitch. Doubly so on short notice.
Last edit - 14.09.19 - Minor edits to the grammar; and adding in yet another half sentence that was missing.