A/N: Another chapter is finally ready, thank goodness. As for why it took so long, well… there are a lot of reasons. Some are good ones and make the gap between this chapter and the previous one somewhat understandable… and some are less acceptable. Suffice to say 2020 was a rough year for everyone, me included, and unfortunately updating this story was pretty low on my list of priorities for quite a while as a result. As I've said before, I have loved writing this story just as much as I did the first one and I have no intention of not finishing it, but other things in my life had to take priority for a while. I know that it can be incredibly frustrating when a story goes without an update for a long period of time without warning, believe me. All I can say is I'm sorry it took this long and thank you all for being so patient. Hopefully this chapter will live up to expectations.

Anyway, that's enough excuses from me. Let's move on, shall we?

From this point on I will no longer be replying to reviews in my start of chapter author's notes unless they are left by guests or accounts with the PM function disabled. My reason for this is that since I received so many reviews for the last chapter (thank you all for that!) I believe the length some A/Ns could end up being would be a bit silly. I will still gladly reply to reviews via PM where this is possible as before, though, so nothing has changed on that front.

Responses to reviews are as follows:

Guest: Yes, I am. Well, I was back in June last year and then for all intents and purposes where writing is concerned I was dead again. But I am back again now! Thank you for rejoicing with me!

Chapter 33: Strength

It felt almost surreal.

The Mandalorian began to raise her blaster rifle, the armoured warrior seeming to move in slow motion as Shepard pulled the trigger of his own weapon, its recoil barely noticeable as a trio of tiny pinpricks of bright blue light raced through the space between them. His opponent staggered back, one hand pressed to her throat as blood leaked from between her fingers, her rifle falling to the ground unfired. A second later its owner joined it, collapsing to the ground in a heap before lying still.

Ejecting the spent heatsink from his Avenger and slotting a new one into the weapon, Shepard couldn't help feeling a sense of satisfaction. Garrus had handed him the assault rifle after passing Kasumi a Tempest submachine gun, leaving both of them substantially better armed than before. The thief at least now had a weapon, and as for Shepard… well, he had always felt more comfortable with an Avenger than any other gun he had ever used. Despite being proficient with every kind of firearm imaginable, there was something about that particular model of assault rifle that just felt right.

That was not, however, what was causing the combat that continued to rage around him to feel different to how it had previously. Between awakening to find himself in captivity on Aratoht, Balak grinning back at him, and the present moment, the sheer number of events that had transpired meant it felt like far more time had passed than the scant few days that really had. It was almost as though he had partially forgotten what it was like to fight as part of a team again, alongside two others who had served on the Normandy. Yes, he had fought alongside Kasumi, Rassen, and Shaela over the past few days, but two previous Normandy crewmembers instead of just one was causing him to experience a profound sense of déjà vu.

Currently, Garrus was somewhere off to his right and behind him, the turian's Mantis firing with astonishing frequency considering its extremely limited capacity. Each shot heralded the end of another batarian or Mandalorian life as it tore through shields, armour, and flesh alike. In contrast, Kasumi was ahead of Shepard at the moment, but she was always in motion, appearing in order to neutralise an opponent with a well-aimed blow to the neck or another vulnerable area, or gun them down with her submachine gun, before then vanishing from sight.

Despite one favouring long range and the other short, the two of them moved perfectly in tandem with him whenever he advanced from one piece of cover to another or targeted a new enemy. Countless shared firefights had drilled into the three of them how to work best as a unit in a way no number of simulations ever could. The same was true of all of the ground crew who had served on either the first or second Normandy. Had Liara and Wrex been accompanying Shepard, for example, then they too would have been able to work just as seamlessly alongside him as Garrus and Kasumi currently were.

Another Mandalorian, this one was male judging by his height, drew back his arm before hurling a grenade at a trio of marines taking cover behind a particularly large boulder. The spherical object struck the top of the rock before bouncing over it and landing at the feet of the Alliance soldiers, a red light flashing rapidly on its side. The resulting explosion hurled the three of them into the air like ragdolls, the sound of the blast deafening even though Shepard was far enough from it to be in no danger. A cloud of greenish dust, the result of a large chunk of the boulder having been obliterated, burst into the air before beginning to settle on the three corpses as they struck the ground.

The dust was whipped into a frenzy as Kasumi darted through it, the thief gracefully dodging the Mandalorian's blaster fire as he attempted to shoot her before she could close in. Shepard raised his own weapon and fired the instant he had a clear shot, the single round catching the Mandalorian directly in the centre of his torso. The warrior's thick armour saved him from massive internal damage, but it could do nothing as Kasumi used the momentary distraction to cut him down with a point-blank burst to the throat from her Tempest.

The sounds of gunfire and shouting continued to rage as Shepard turned to face where he had last seen Garrus, intending to wave for the turian to move up, only for silence to fall so suddenly and so completely that he froze in place. Turning slowly in all directions, Shepard stared in disbelief at the scene around him, unable to comprehend for the moment that the fighting might be over.

Hundreds of corpses, the majority of which were batarian and Mandalorian but accompanied by an almost as large number of marine ones, dotted the floor of the cave. In some areas they were less concentrated, a body here, a couple more there. In others, however, there were dense clusters of corpses, locations where part of a squad had been cut down after being outflanked or had been killed by a well-placed grenade, like the one the Mandalorian that Kasumi had killed had thrown. That there were so many bodies was by no means surprising, but what was shocking was how the only people still on their feet, himself, Garrus, and Kasumi aside, wore the signature dark blue of the Alliance. No individuals sporting the lighter blue that signified Mandalorian armour or the drab browns and greys of batarian armour remained standing.

Only a few of the enemy combatants had not been slain. They were currently kneeling in place, hands on their heads, as they were held at gunpoint. All but one were batarian, with the single Mandalorian who had surrendered sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the group. Considering how many of both factions there had been before the battle had broken out compared with now, it appeared that they had very nearly fought to the last man before surrendering.

Despite feeling a sense of relief as it began to sink in that it was finally over, Shepard still shook his head as he surveyed the carnage. All of the death, all of the killing… all of it had been because of Balak's desire for revenge and Mandalore's pride. Even with the Reapers gone, the greatest threat ever to intelligent life completely defeated, people were still willing to fight and kill over old grudges. His previous feeling of elation at fighting alongside both Garrus and Kasumi seemed so wrong now. Perverse even. He hadn't enjoyed the killing itself, but facing the odds with the two of them again, even for a brief period… it had been more invigorating than he would have liked to admit. For a moment things had been simple.

"Shepard!"

Garrus' flanged voice immediately brought him out of his silent reflection. Sprinting over to where the turian was a dozen or so metres from where he had been standing, Shepard locked eyes with the Mandalorian Garrus had at gunpoint, the only one alive aside from the one currently with the batarians as far as he could tell. He recognised her immediately despite her armour being indistinguishable from that worn by her subordinates.

Mandalore returned his gaze unflinchingly from where she lay on the hard ground, her ragged breathing and the sheer amount of blood she was covered in making it clear she was only minutes away from death.

"You."

"Me," she replied, voice strong through her helmet despite her obvious agony as she shifted slightly against the rock currently propping her back up. Had she been nearly anyone else, Shepard would have been impressed by her fortitude. Her head turned minutely, T-shaped visor now facing Garrus. "And the one… who got me earlier, I assume."

The muzzle of the turian's rifle didn't waver so much as an inch as he addressed Shepard. "Is she the one in command?"

"Yes."

Alert for any sign of danger, Shepard slowly sat down opposite the dying woman, keeping his Avenger trained on her the whole while. Despite the state she was in, her armour appeared to have been slightly melted somehow in several places, he noted, Mandalore snorted at his caution, clearly amused that he thought she might still be a threat. An inexperienced combatant might have flinched at the unexpected bravado, but Shepard didn't so much as blink in response to it as he spoke.

"Was all of this worth it?" he asked quietly, indicating the bodies that surrounded them. "You got the fight you wanted."

"I did." Mandalore attempted to sit up, resulting in Garrus adjusting his grip on his Mantis in response. Glancing over at the turian for a moment, Shepard returned his gaze to the woman opposite him as she continued.

"But when I started, I didn't think it would end quite like this." She coughed heavily, and Shepard knew from the sound that she only had a few moments of life left.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kasumi approach before sitting down next to him, the thief crossing her legs as she surveyed Mandalore coldly. The armoured woman snorted again as she turned her attention to her, but the sound was less vicious than it had been just seconds earlier, lacking the same energy.

"I…" Mandalore trailed off before coughing more violently than before. "I won't be the last… to come here," she finally managed, every breath she took now akin to a gasp. "He told me where to find it. He will find someone else to… to send here. Or maybe he will even come in person."

Shepard suddenly felt cold despite Venture's immense heat. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you…" Mandalore broke down coughing again. "Did you really think I just… I just found the… the thing that brought me here? No, he discovered it, not that I know how or when. I didn't question why he chose to tell me, but he has informants everywhere. He must have known what I would try and do… and how many would follow me. It's so obvious now."

Mandalore let out a choked swallowing noise, the sound unpleasant enough that Shepard winced almost imperceptibly. Killing someone from range meant you didn't have to witness the process of their body shutting down up close, but seeing another person, even an enemy, perish slowly before your eyes… it was something he didn't think it was possible to ever get fully used to. In spite of just how close she was to death, Mandalore somehow managed to find the energy to continue, her arms going limp by her sides as she spoke.

"If he comes… nothing you have will be enough. Your fleets will be annihilated, your worlds will crumble, and the people of this galaxy will serve him or die."

"Who?" Kasumi asked, causing Shepard to look over at her. The thief was pale despite the heat as she addressed the dying woman. "If who comes?"

"Maybe it is… better," Mandalore continued, either not hearing Kasumi or simply not caring enough to answer her, "that I wasn't able to kill both of your… both of your friends. Their torment and your own at his hands will be far worse than anything I could have… could have dreamed up. Although, I am glad I was able to give them something to remember me by."

"Wait." Shepard noticed Kasumi had somehow managed to pale even further. "What do you mean, 'something to remember me by?' Garrus shot you before you could do anything."

The armoured woman's head slowly started to sink down to her chest as the last of her strength began to leave her. Somehow, though, she still managed to turn her attention to a point a few metres over to her left.

Turning to follow Mandalore's gaze, Shepard's eyes landed on a large, dark puddle of what could only be blood. Despite its size, it had already begun to dry at the edges, a result of Venture's intolerable heat doing in minutes what would normally have taken hours on a world with a milder climate. Carefully getting to his feet, he moved closer to the puddle, eyes narrowing as he noticed the tiny shards of some kind of blue glass-like substance which dotted the liquid.

A sudden gasp from next to him caused Shepard to snap his head round to face Kasumi, who had moved to stand at his side while he had been distracted. The thief's look of shock morphed into an expression of horror as he watched, before she turned to look at him. "Shep," she managed, staggering slightly before managing to regain her balance. "She… she…" Kasumi trailed off, looking as though she were about to be sick.

Shepard slowly turned back to the blood puddle before crouching down next to it. The exact colour of the shards was extremely familiar, but it wasn't until he reached into the puddle and lifted one of them to eyelevel, droplets of drying blood falling from his fingers, that he realised where he recognised it from.

A haze of red descended across his vision, his confusion swept away by a wave of fury. One moment he was crouching next to the puddle of blood, the next he was standing in front of Garrus, pulling the Mantis from the hands of his closest friend with such force that the turian was sent stumbling backwards. As he aimed the sniper rifle down at Mandalore, the armoured woman met his gaze, taking a final deep, rasping breath as she attempted to say something.

She never got the chance. The round struck her directly between her helmet and her breastplate, destroying her comparatively lightly armoured neck as it tore through the material protecting the flesh, burrowed straight through her throat, and then embedded itself in the rock beyond. Turning away from the corpse as it collapsed onto its side, Shepard tossed the Mantis back to Garrus, who caught it wordlessly.

"John…"

He shook his head, cutting Kasumi off as he met Garrus' gaze with his own. "Tell whoever's in command that I'm invoking Spectre authority. We have a seriously wounded quarian female and possibly also a badly wounded human male. We need medics over here as fast as possible."

Turning his attention to Kasumi as Garrus nodded an affirmative and began speaking into his omni-tool, it was now Shepard's turn to be cut off as the thief started talking at almost the exact moment he did, causing him to fall silent. "I don't know where Rassen and Shaela are any more than you do, Shep," Kasumi began. "But since we can't see them, if I had to guess," she pointed at something over his shoulder, "I'd say there is our best bet."

Turning to face where the thief was pointing, Shepard felt his eyes widen as he saw what she was getting at. Instinct took over and he began running, Kasumi's almost silent footsteps joining his own, much heavier ones a second later as the two of them raced towards the Bo'slaak. Behind them, he heard Garrus tell whoever he was speaking with to send the medics to the ship, the turian having likewise caught on.

Shepard leapt over a thigh-high rock as Kasumi caught up with him, both of their gazes firmly fixed ahead as the two of them drew closer and closer to the vessel that had brought them to Venture. That had brought them to this boiling hellhole.

The ship that almost certainly was where Rassen and Shaela currently were.

Thud.

His muscles burned. It felt as though they were tearing themselves apart as he pushed down with everything he had.

Thud.

He couldn't seem to breathe properly, each inhalation making it feel as though a dagger was being plunged into his chest over and over again. The blows Mandalore had landed before he had defeated her were responsible for that.

Thud.

Rassen was putting all of the pathetic amount of strength he had left into this one task, but it still wasn't enough. Kneeling over the woman he loved, his hands one on top of the other on her chest, he kept going.

Thud.

Push down, release. Push down, release. Push down, release. He had to get her breathing again. If he couldn't, Shaela would die.

Thud.

"Please, Shaela," he whispered. "Please wake up."

Thud.

Shaela didn't respond.

Trembling with a fear more profound than any he had felt before, Rassen glanced at the quarian's helmet before hesitating. Her face was turned away from him, meaning he still hadn't seen how severe the injuries to it were. He had lost count of how many chest compressions he had done, but it had to have been enough by now, surely. In order to move on to mouth to mouth resuscitation, though, he needed to turn Shaela's head to face him.

The situation was very simple. With every second that passed, Shaela's chances grew worse. He knew that. Yet he still desperately didn't want to see what Mandalore had done to her. It was almost as though if he didn't look upon Shaela's injuries, then they were not truly real. He could almost pretend she was unhurt and merely sleeping.

You can try to believe that if you want, Rassen. Ultimately, what you wish to think makes no difference.

It was only as he finally reached out and gently took hold of the bottom of Shaela's helmet that Rassen realised tears had begun to run down his face at some point while he had been attempting to revive her. Snarling quietly at his own weakness, he wiped his eyes with his free arm before turning the quarian's head to face him as he leaned in closer, only to freeze as soon as he saw the extent of the damage.

"Oh, Shaela…"

The left side of her visor was almost completely gone, as was part of the bottom right corner of it. A few blue shards remained in place in those areas, though, each one a different jagged and irregular shape from the rest, but all of them less than a centimetre in length. The upper right portion of the protective surface had cracked but survived the blow that had shattered the rest of it, and therefore still covered that side of Shaela's forehead as well as the eye and cheekbone beneath it. As a result, that section of the quarian's face was undamaged.

The same could not be said for the rest of it.

Tiny dagger-like slivers of blue dotted the grey skin of Shaela's face, embedded deeply in her flesh. While all of the uncovered areas of it had been damaged, thin streaks of red blood running downwards from each shard before vanishing from sight beneath the quarian's jaw, Rassen's gaze was transfixed by just one of the shards.

While the other ones were miniscule, being almost invisible unless viewed from a certain angle, this fragment was substantially larger. It had to be at least half an inch wide at its broadest point, but how long it was Rassen couldn't bring himself to guess as he continued to stare uncomprehendingly at it as it seemed to taunt him.

Buried as it was in Shaela's exposed eye.

The eyelid was shut and likely had been ever since Shaela's mask had been shattered, as the quarian had probably instinctively closed it in an attempt to protect her eye from harm. The sheer amount of blood that continued to run from it despite that, though, compared with the amount that been drawn by the other shards, told Rassen that whereas most of her wounds were minor in terms of tissue damage, this one was not.

Rassen felt a wave of despair and shame threaten to overwhelm him, the feeling akin to being buried alive under an avalanche of rock that crushed the life out of all those foolish enough to stand in its way. He had failed her. After everything Shaela had done for him, after everything they had been through together, once again he hadn't been able to protect her. Compared with her, nothing else mattered. But he still hadn't been strong enough to save her from harm.

You never have been, Rassen.

He couldn't even muster a response to Zaressh's taunt. How could he when the Sith was only speaking the truth? After all, Rassen had never defeated him. He had survived their first encounter only because Zaressh had wanted him to live. Then on Omega and Querra it had been Shaela who had saved him despite just how vulnerable her immune system and lack of experience with the Force had left her.

Recent events had been no better. The brief period of time he and Shaela had shared after she had removed her mask was something that had been truly special. It hadn't been because they loved one another romantically specifically, but rather because she had trusted him. Trusted him so utterly and so completely that she had been willing to leave herself more vulnerable than he could ever hope to fully grasp, not just to a severe reaction as a result of her immune system, but also to how he would respond. Shaela had trusted him enough to leave herself entirely at his mercy, because she thought he was worthy of truly seeing her despite all of the risks.

And he hadn't been able to prevent Mandalore from completely violating that part of Shaela as a person. What should only ever have been hers to offer to those she cared for and believed in above all others had been taken from her. And he hadn't been able to do the fundamental duty of preventing that from happening because, as always, he hadn't been strong enough. The physical damage she had suffered was horrific, but that something so special had been forcibly removed from her control was somehow even worse.

You cannot save her, Rassen. You know it, even if you have refused to acknowledge it so far. And even if you could, you would spend the rest of your life knowing you failed her in the way that perhaps matters most of all to her.

His exhaustion suddenly threated to overwhelm him, somehow managing to dwarf his self-loathing. Barely able to think coherently, Rassen wondered if he was dying. If perhaps passing out would mean he would never wake up again. Maybe he had already pushed himself beyond what should have been possible, and had only made it this far because he was a Jedi. Between exposure to Venture's immense heat and his injuries, it was entirely possible that he should have expired already.

Was death really something he should attempt to avoid at this point? A line of the Jedi code managed to float to the forefront of his mind as he gradually began to fall to the ground next to Shaela, one that seemed oddly comforting.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Despite everything, Rassen frowned as his eyes closed and he lay on the metal floor of the cockpit. There was something about that line that seemed important somehow. Something that seemed like it should have been obvious. His frown deepened as he tried to work out what it might be. What the line meant, or at least what it had always meant to him, was not that death didn't exist, but rather that the Force mattered more. That as important a part of nature as death was, the Force was more important still.

His eyes still shut, Rassen reached out with the Force. He could feel those outside the ship, both friend and foe. He could feel himself. And he could also feel…

His eyes snapped open. It was faint, so faint as to be almost unnoticeable. But it was definitely there, its existence was undeniable. The spark of life he could feel within Shaela meant more than just the quarian being alive. It also meant that despite what had been done to her, on some level she was still fighting, still struggling despite everything she had endured. If she would not give up, then how could he?

New strength seemed to suffuse Rassen's entire body, driving away his exhaustion. The pain he felt faded to the back of his mind. He was suddenly kneeling next to Shaela again before he even realised he had managed to get back up off the ground. As he leaned down towards her, Zaressh's voice returned once again, a panicked edge to it now. What it was saying, Rassen couldn't tell, for all of his attention was concentrated on the woman he loved. His face was a mask of determination as he sucked in a lungful of air before pressing his lips to Shaela's and gently exhaling. Pulling back to inhale a second time, he then breathed out into the quarian's mouth again before withdrawing once more.

That done, Rassen placed both of his hands on Shaela's chest before pushing down and then relaxing his arms, doing his best to set a steady yet rapid pace. As before, he quickly lost count of how many compressions he had done before he returned to breathing into the quarian's mouth.

As he prepared to begin a third set of compressions, there was a weak spluttering noise. Rassen froze, scarcely able to believe it as Shaela suddenly inhaled unassisted before breathing out raggedly, her chest rising and falling as he watched. Glancing around desperately, his gaze landed on her bag, which was still sitting right where he had left it.

Dragging it across the floor so it now sat next to him, Rassen started to pull out each item it contained one by one as fast as he could, trying to find something, anything, he recognised. He might have managed to get Shaela breathing, but the infection was still raging through her body. If he could not find something to counteract it, she would stop again.

The same feeling of hopelessness from before returned as a pile of syringes and containers grew next to him, the name printed on each one completely unfamiliar. Swallowing heavily as he lifted the final syringe from the bag, Rassen closed his eyes, silently praying he would recognise the name on it.

Please. Please. Please.

Tearing his eyes open, he turned the syringe over, revealing the name of the substance it contained.

Temrathaylene.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Rassen glanced back at Shaela, only to stop as he realised he had no idea what to do next. The quarian had not told him how she had injected herself with the potent antibiotic so she could remove her visor, though presumably she had done it without needing to remove any part of her suit. That meant there must be a port of some kind located somewhere upon it.

The syringe trembled in his grasp. Shaela's breathing already sounded worse and trying to locate the port would take precious seconds. Seconds she didn't have.

With his free hand, Rassen gently cupped the back of the quarian's head before carefully leaning it up towards him, the new angle meaning he could just about see the upper part of Shaela's neck. Steadying the syringe as best he could, Rassen counted to three inside his head before taking aim at the first vein he saw and pushing the needle into it before depressing the plunger.

What he had just done was incredibly dangerous. Injections to the neck always carried a risk of damaging a major blood vessel that the person administering the injection might not be able to see. Breathing out slowly as he withdrew the now empty syringe, the needle sliding back out of Shaela's neck as easily as it had entered, Rassen then reached out to the Force. With the last of his energy, he tossed the syringe aside before positioning his hand in front of Shaela's throat and concentrating with everything he had. Slowly, far slower than it normally would have, the tiny incision the needle had made began to close, gradually leaving the skin there undamaged.

As he healed Shaela's neck, the colour began to seep out of Rassen's vision, causing everything around him to turn grey. The feeling of crushing fatigue from earlier returned and was somehow even more overwhelming now. Blood rushed in his ears, but it felt distant. Almost like it was a memory of the sensation instead of the real thing. Feeling as though he were moving through quicksand, Rassen gently lowered Shaela's head back to the ground and checked his pulse, too drained to feel worried that he could barely find it. In his trance-like state, he almost didn't hear the approaching footsteps that signified he and the quarian were about to have company.

Even so, Rassen managed to slowly look up as Shepard burst into the room, Kasumi right behind him. Their expressions switched from determination to horror in an instant as they saw Shaela. Wincing as he did so, Rassen crawled as best he could between the quarian and the two of them in order to obstruct their view of her face, only managing to move a few inches before his arms started to buckle.

There were more footsteps. A turian Rassen didn't recognise entered the cockpit, followed by a pair of Alliance marines. As the latter attempted to move towards him and Shaela, he weakly tried to stop them, causing them both to pause.

"Rassen."

Shepard's voice. Rassen attempted to look over at him, only to realise the other man had turned into a vague, blurry shape. Shepard's voice became increasingly distorted as he continued speaking, but the Jedi Knight could vaguely make out that he was explaining that the two soldiers were medics. Not even managing to nod in reply, Rassen was dimly aware of his face slowly moving to rest against the floor of the cockpit as unconsciousness took him, the two medics moving closer to him and Shaela the last thing he was aware of.