Author's Note: Just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. It has reached over 500 reviews and I cannot express how grateful I am to everyone who has taken time from their day in order to read this and share your thoughts. You are amazing and appreciated every day.
Bright Blessings!
~Raven
Liara
A low, gentle thunk jarred me out of slumber. Twilight had been replaced by full dark. I heard the hiss of hydraulics and felt cool air wash over my face as the skycab opened. I attempted to sit up, but my muscles had frozen, and the fresh burst of pain splitting across my torso forbade me from moving.
"Hang tight, Liara." Shepard cautioned me. "Don't try to move or you'll just make it worse."
"I can do a biotic lift to get her inside." Miranda spoke from outside the car. "To keep from jarring her wound."
I glared at Shepard, who stared at me, impassive. I did not know what I expected to see in her face, or in her eyes, but I did not find it. So much had been twisted, tangled in my soul and psyche.
"I'm no xenophobe, Operative Lawson," I addressed Miranda, "But I will refuse to be touched by one, even with something as distant as biotics."
Miranda did not respond, but I watched as her lips tightened at the corners. Shepard walked to the passenger side of the car, mumbling something about herding cats…whatever that might entail. I had done research on earth felines, after Dr. Chakwas had mentioned something about a cat in sleepwear, and they were not a species that gathered in herds, nor did the domesticated breeds tend to be communal in nature…
…and why am I dwelling on the intricacies of earth's domesticated animals? I wondered.
"Liara," Shepard knelt down beside me, reaching over me and disengaging the safety harness, which slipped back into the seat, "are you all right with me carrying you into your apartment? Time is pretty much of the essence, right?"
"Just…just help me get up." I said, flustered and frustrated by the thought of Shepard carrying me anywhere.
The last place I desired to be was encircled in those warm, strong arms, with her hands cradling me close, reminding me of how well they could protect, how much they could love and cherish. I wanted no part of what had been in the past, because…because this time could not be that time. I needed to save Feron. I needed to splinter the Shadow Broker's empire. I required Shepard's help to do so, but she and I were on separate paths.
"Liara, I don't want you…"
"It does not much matter what you want, Serena." I said, harsh, and she looked as though I had slapped her across the face.
"Of course." her voice held grief, and grief alone.
Serena extended her hand and I took hold of it, ignoring the heat of her skin and the strength that had always defined her. Slow, careful, I eased myself out of the seat. Standing seemed to take more effort than I remembered. The ache in my side had become a horrible throb taking over the entirety of mind and body. I took a step forward and my knees began to buckle.
Immediately, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and slid up to my shoulders. Shepard's other arm fit itself beneath the bend of my knees and she hoisted me into her arms. I wanted to protest; felt my body stiffen, but it hurt too badly, so I forced myself to relax. I rested my head against her chest, listening to the even cadence of her heartbeat. She smelled of copper, salt, and vanilla, a familiar scent that my subconscious mind took comfort in. It smelled like love, solace, and peace. It smelled like the past in which I had known innocence and joy. Like the last two years had never happened.
But they did. Sorrow creased my brow and Shepard's steps slowed.
"Am I hurting you?" she asked, low.
In so many ways, Serena. In ways that you cannot even fathom.
"I'm fine." I lied, gritting my teeth as the pain made its presence known yet again, fiercer and hotter in my side, spreading across my torso and my back, making my spine stiffen.
"Just hang tight." Shepard smiled down at me with a gentle, confident grace. "We'll get you patched up in no time."
"She's not our only concern, Shepard." Miranda noted, her voice behind us and to the left. "You're leaving a little bit of a blood trail yourself."
I closed my eyes, attempting not to worry. I should not care any longer. I had no stake in Shepard's life, no part in her mission. I did not want my heartbeat to accelerate, I did not want my mind to remember how much damage her body could endure and still press on into fiercer and harsher battles. I did not want to think of any of it, and yet I could not stop myself from doing so.
The door of my apartment slid open and Shepard entered. I felt a slight comfort until I saw the bullet holes in my window and remembered that until we were in space, traveling across the stars to Hagalaz, that my life was still in imminent danger.
"Miranda," Shepard broke the silence, "kick up the heat, will you? She's shivering."
The soldier carried me up the stairs, into my bedroom. With great care, she set me in my desk chair, then turned and pulled back the covers of my bed. I grasped the arms of the chair and forced myself to stand, and it chafed that I required Shepard's support for the five steps it took to reach the bed. I all but crumpled onto the mattress, holding my side and breathing heavily, seeing white starbursts flare behind my eyelids when I blinked.
"You've lost blood." Shepard whispered. "Lie back. Take pressure off the wound."
Her hand braced my back as I reclined against the pillows, breathing easier as the weight of my upper body no longer aggravated the injury. I shivered, feeling cold, wondering when Zhira would arrive. I could sense the tension in Serena's body, knowing that she fought every instinct to acquiesce to my wishes.
Foolish wishes. Why do I resist her touch? Because it will remind me of times I have fought to forget? Because it might awaken something in my heart, a sweetness and a darkness that I do not wish to face? Zhira, where are you? I need you here…I need you here to center me, because I am drifting…I am drifting near the one person strong enough to take my hand and bring me back to the ground.
"Your friend will be here soon." Shepard attempted to reassure me. "Can…can I at least take your armor off so they can help you as soon as they get here?"
She sounds so hesitant…as cast adrift as I. As confused as I. As lost in this galaxy of delicate terrors. I know what I wish to say. But I fear it…I fear the words that…
"You may." I said, speaking with my heart before my mind could interfere.
"Okay." I looked up and saw a careful shield laid over the silver eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"
She moved down the bed, beginning with the armor plates covering my legs, to acquaint me with her touch, to distance me from the intimacy of what she was doing. Her fingers found the clasps and unlocked them one by one. She lifted each plate away with great care, lightening the load on my body and increasing the pressure in my mind.
"The explosion…at Baria Frontier." I murmured, watching her hands move, mesmerized by their dexterity, tormented by the memory of their touch against my bare flesh as she taught me of pleasure and of ecstasy and release. "My shield generator took a hit and momentarily went out, I assume, because a spike of glass pierced through the mesh. Do not worry over-much…it struck nothing vital."
"Mmm-hmmm." she replied, intent on her work.
She unclasped the armor plates covering my thighs, easing my legs upward to remove both the front and back pieces, taking each leg in her hand and lowering it back to the bed in an attempt to jar the wound as little as possible. Her hands moved to the sides of my waist, one on either side, her fingers resting on the clamps.
"Some of the blood has dried, and I think the mesh is stuck to your skin." Shepard warned me. "It's going to hurt when I take this off."
I gave a slight nod. "I am accustomed to pain." I told her.
Blood drained from Serena's face, leaving it a stark off-white that I had only seen once, when she lay near death on the Citadel. Pain burned in her gaze, making it seem as though her eyes were molten silver, melting her from within as she absorbed the heat and meaning of my words. Her eyes fell away from mine, and back to her task.
"I'm sorry." she murmured, and I felt that she apologized for more than the pain she would cause.
It will take more than a simple apology, Serena. You cannot buy back time. You cannot re-purchase life from death. You gave me words before, and you faltered. You fell. You left me.
The pressure on my body eased as the clasps came undone. Shepard grasped the edges of the chest plate and looked at me for permission. I nodded and she lifted it upwards with a quick movement. The mesh tore off of my skin, making it seem as though the wound caught fire. A cry left my lips and my body jerked upwards of its own volition. Shepard tossed the chestplate to the ground, removed my backplate, and helped me lie back once again.
I breathed in short, jerking gasps, grimacing at the sickening feeling of fresh blood oozing from the wound once again. In my hurry to escape the sniper and reach Sekat, I had not donned underarmor, and, as Shepard had feared, the dried blood had adhered the mesh to my bare skin. I bit my lip and swallowed down the horrendous nausea that churned in my gut and tightened my throat.
"Fuck." Shepard cursed as she saw the injury for the first time. "Just…fuck. That looks nasty. Can't stand glass."
Shepard looked like a caged animal. Her features were taut, her jaw clenching and unclenching with an uncomfortable rapidity. I knew that she was aching, needing to help take care of me, but she did nothing, save pull the covers over my legs to try and help me keep warm. I could feel the weight of her eyes as they looked everywhere but at me. She did not gaze on the expanse of bare skin that once she mapped out with her hands and tongue and teeth. She did so…for my sake. Because she knew I did not want her touch.
I was not so hard-hearted as to keep her at my side while refusing to let her do anything to speed my healing and ease my pain. I parted my lips, preparing to ask her to go downstairs and give me some privacy. My omni-tool chirped and I allowed brought up the vid-link without thinking. Zhira's face appeared; her eyes honed in on the puncture in my torso. Her nostrils flared and her lips pulled into a thin line.
"I've been held up." Zhira said without preamble. "Only witness a fucking hit and run. I should be done giving a statement shortly, and I'll get to you as soon as I can."
I watched Shepard's entire frame go rigid as she heard Zhira's words, accepted the delay, and realized that she would have to watch me suffer in discomfort until the help I desired arrived.
She does not have to, my thoughts whispered. I could let her help me.
"All right." I said, but the words felt wrong and heavy in my mouth.
Zhira's eyes narrowed. "You're too fucking pale, Li. Get over yourself and let Shepard help you, or else you got this far for nothing. The Liara I know is not an idiot, so do as I say."
I knew the tone in her voice; knew the wrath that would follow if I did not listen. And I did not want to listen. The removal of my armor had been discomforting enough. I did not want to think of what would happen if Serena's bare skin touched mine. I did not want those memories, those sensations…it would hurt worse than the pain burrowing deeper into my nerves every moment.
"Zhira…"
"No." she replied, brusque. "You can't waste time for the reasons I know you're going to cite. Shepard," Zhira addressed Serena, even though she could not see the woman, "I'm pretty damn sure you're there, so listen to me and listen well. Take care of her, because if you don't, when I get there, I will pull your intestines out through your goddess-damned throat. Are we clear?"
"Yes." Shepard answered, and I felt anger swirling in the depths of my core.
I did not want these decisions made for me. I did not want Shepard to touch me. I wanted to wait for Zhira. She understood my fears, my anger, the confusion and clamor weighing down my soul and clashing in my spirit. I needed her help to navigate the treacherous waters in which I found myself.
"Liara, stop arguing inside your head." Zhira quipped, proving once again how well she knew me. "I'll be there soon."
I closed the screen and looked at Shepard, knowing that my fear would override Zhira's warning and her order. My friend knew me so well; she had salvaged my life from its wreckage and restored my search for life and my willingness to live. But she could not understand the soul-numbing terror that gripped me at the thought of Shepard touching me, caring for my wounds.
Serena destroyed me. I cannot bear…I cannot bear to have her heal me. I could not take the strain of the juxtaposition.
"I don't…" I began, but Shepard raised her hands in surrender, rose from the bed, and collapsed in my desk chair.
Her hair, a curtain of fire, shielded her face.
"Don't worry, Liara." her words were bitter and longing, like fine wine mixed with poison. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do."
Her spirit seemed to collapse into herself as she sat there, and I knew. I knew that she would not leave this room, even if I demanded it, even if I begged. She would stay and watch over me, and she would suffer. She would suffer because she loved me once, and perhaps still did…but, above all, she would suffer because she was Serena Shepard, the woman who wished to take the pain of all the world.
The woman who once took my pain…then gave hers to me in a moment of pure, unadulterated trust. That trust is broken now, and we both know it. However, she is fighting for that trust once more…she is fighting, and she is suffering, and I am…as yet unswayed.
I sighed, fixing my eyes on the part of the room where Shepard was not. In the silence, I admitted to myself the true reason I would not let her touch me.
And afraid. I am so very, very afraid.
In spite of that fear, curiosity pricked at me unceasingly. The Shepard I remembered did not let another risk their life needlessly. The Shepard I remembered would have ignored what I desired and begun cleaning the wound. She would have glared me into silence and forcibly remind me that she knew what was best.
"Shepard," I timorously broke the silence, "why? Why are you simply sitting there, doing nothing?"
"Because your life and how you live it belongs to you." Shepard murmured. "Even when our lives were intertwined, your life belonged to you. If you don't want my help, I'm not going to interfere. Because I have no say in what you do with your life."
Even when our lives were intertwined, your life belonged to you...I replayed her words in my thoughts...and my world turned on its end.
Is this what she has always believed? I asked myself. Because I do know that we often expect to be loved in the same manner as we love another which...which means she did with her life what she needed to do that day above Alchera. It was not, perhaps, what she wanted, but she believed...she believed that I would understand. And I did not...and that is no fault of hers.
"Serena," I spoke, barely above a whisper, barely holding back tears, "please, help me."