Liara

I sat on a bench outside the Normandy med-bay, my knee bouncing up and down as I waited. The shuttle ride back to the Normandy had been fraught with tension as the medics worked on Shepard, desperate to stop the flow of blood, ignoring the gruesome laceration across her face in favor of the more serious injury.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to drive the images away. The white padding of the stretcher turning redder and redder as Shepard continued to bleed. The worried voices of the medics that turned to a blur of language I didn't care about. All I could do was look at her pale, disfigured face and meditate on what I had done to her.

Because I knew I could not do this without you, I thought as I stared across the galley, trying not to see what I witnessed.

The grim mood of the crew. The way that they picked at their food, as though they did not really taste it, and put it in their mouths simply because they knew it was necessary for survival. On the first Normandy, Shepard had been respected and loved. I had thought it due to her reputation in the Alliance, due to the fact that her soldiers knew they could trust in her implicitly.

It seemed that same loyalty existed with the Cerberus operatives beneath her command. The organization did not matter. It was the woman herself. The woman whose life was in danger…darkening the atmosphere of the entire ship. Joker had been waiting when the shuttle arrived. His eyes had been terrified, his hands, one of them in a cast, had been shaking.

I had gone to him, looked him in the eye, and whispered the words that I wished I could speak to everyone in my life that I had come in contact with after Shepard's death. The words and truth I wished I could give to those who had worked for me and suffered for doing so.

I'm sorry…those were the words I had spoken to the pilot, and he had nodded and accepted my apology with a grace I did not expect…or deserve.

It is my fault that she is injured. I asked her to help me, knowing that she would, knowing that she would because she still loves me. When did love become something that I would use as an asset instead of something I would raise high and cherish above all else? How did I let the death of the one who, for me, personified love and passion, turn me into something cold and callous?

The sound of an opening door made me jerk upright and turn my head at an angle that made my head ache. I wanted it to be Dr. Chakwas, or one of her nurses, here with good news. The news that I hadn't gotten Shepard killed. Instead, it was the door across the ship that led to Miranda's office.

The dark-haired, beautiful woman emerged, looking absolutely terrible. Her skin was pallid, her complexion wan, her lips looked swollen, as though she had worried them with her teeth. Her intense, often frigid blue eyes were somehow softer as she looked around, appearing much the same as I…a creature lost, adrift, lacking something beyond definition. Her eyelids were rimmed red; swollen and puffy, making her look so very, very human and vulnerable.

Miranda slumped down on a bench identical to the one that I rested on. The body of the ship rested between us, but I had never felt closer to her. She ran her hand through her hair and I winced as I saw the five centimeter gash on the side of her head, sealed with medi-gel.

Jacob Taylor approached Miranda, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. I shrank further into myself as his kind eyes rested on the obviously distressed, disheveled second-in-command.

"Coffee?" Jacob's voice was low, but the sound carried across the metal floors, possessing an almost hollow, despairing echo.

Miranda took the offered drink, cradled it in both of her hands and rested it in her lap. Her eyes did not meet Jacob's, even though she had turned her attention to him. His brows knitted.

"You doing okay, Lawson?" he asked. "If you don't mind my saying, you look rough."

He sat down beside Miranda without invitation, but she did not seem to mind. Instead, her eyes pierced through the wall behind me, as if she could see into the med-bay, see what was happening, find the information that she and I desperately wanted.

"I should be in there, Jacob." Miranda spoke. "I have a concussion, but I'm still fully capable of rendering assistance. It's not that I don't trust Karin Chakwas, it is just…"

"She's not you." Jacob nodded, and he seemed in my estimation a very understanding man. "No one thought you could do what you did, Miranda." his words were infused with comfort and caring.

"I couldn't build something invincible though." Miranda's voice held heavy, heavy grief. "Everything I worked for is in danger, and I'm…" she paused, "…medically compromised." the words emerged on an angry hiss. "We can't lose her now, Jacob."

The man's lips tightened at the corners and turned down. "You saying that because of the mission, or because of what she means to you, personally?"

Miranda's hands stroked through her hair again. "Both." the single word was wild, slurred, both passionate and impassive at the same moment. "She needs to be okay, Jacob. Cerberus needs her to be okay."

Jacob's frown deepened. "Yeah. I get that, Miranda. But what do you need?"

Antithetical to the distant, aloof character she had so often displayed, Miranda buried her head in her hands. "I need her to be okay." she admitted, wincing as she took a sip of the coffee. "My bloody head hurts."

"I know." Jacob rested a hand on her shoulder and it surprised me that she did not shrug it off. "You should get some rest, Miranda. Waiting out here's not going to do a damn thing except make that headache worse."

"I don't care." Miranda murmured into the coffee cup, the steam rising around her face making her look as though she wept. "A fitful sleep being woken every two hours is not conducive to rest." she sighed. "Not that sleep would be an option anyhow."

"Gotcha." Jacob rose. "Well, I've got a ship to help run. Let me know what happens, 'kay?"

"Of course."

Jacob departed and Miranda cradled her coffee cup closer to her, savoring its warmth. We remained like that for another hour. Saying nothing. Trying to feel nothing. I did not know if her heart was racing as mine was, if her every thought was locked in the med-bay.

When I'm fixed…I want to talk to you. Shepard's words whispered in my ears and I shuddered.

The wall behind me vibrated slightly, I heard the door opening, and immediately I rose to my feet. Miranda did the same, walking over as fast as she could, her listing steps and occasional pauses to regain her balance indicating that her concussion was not nearly as mild as she had made it out to be. She made it to my side just as Dr. Chakwas did.

My throat tightened and my heart pounded as I saw the red stains on the doctor's white tunic. The lines at the corners of her eyes seemed deeper, the shadows beneath her gaze darker.

"How is she, Karin?" Miranda asked the question we both dreaded the answer to.

"Stable." Chakwas answered, and breath flooded out of my lungs in relief. "Conscious. Lucid."

Thank the Goddess.

"What…" my words were thick and heavy in my mouth. "…what is the extent of her injuries?"

"Serena Shepard remains one of the luckiest soldiers I've ever known." Karin replied, a gentle smile on her lips. "The wound to her back was deep, and ugly. I had to surgically debride it and mend several venous bleeds. Not as dramatic as an arterial bleed, obviously, but it was the reason for the blood loss and the medi-gel's ineffectiveness."

"Were there any complications from hypovolemic shock?" Miranda's voice quavered.

"As of right now, no." Karin answered. "However, I am keeping her in the med-bay for twenty-four hour observation and prolonged testing. I believe that it is due to the resiliency of her implants and her training that she managed to resist going into shock for so long…but that does not mean that damage was not done."

She managed to resist long enough to hold me in her arms…to whisper reassurance. To kiss me with all of her passion.

Miranda was nodding, processing all of the information, remembering what next to ask. "The facial laceration. How was it sealed?"

Karin's eyes hardened, but I did not understand why. "It required stitches, Ms. Lawson." she replied, and Miranda stiffened. "The skin near her lip was sliced straight through, three centimeters long. The skin on her cheek was scored to the bone, which, by the by, has hairline fractures. Part of her ear was torn off. Miraculous as medi-gel is, it could not mend that sort of wound. Nor do we have the technology on board to clone that portion of her ear."

Miranda pursed her lips as though deep in thought, and I watched the softness in her that had been present, during her conversation with Jacob, fade away. Her eyes turned to cold metal once more and I wondered why Shepard's lesser wound seemed of greater concern to the Cerberus operative.

"That will be one to two weeks until the stitches can be removed." Miranda thought aloud. "After that, we need to get the scar removed as soon as possible."

I stared at Miranda, aghast, remembering the woman who had borne her scars with gentility and grace. The lover whose entire back was comprised of different colored patches of skin with uneven textures. Shepard's face had not seemed like her true countenance without the angry scar made by a splash of thresher maw acid on Akuze that fateful day.

"Why?" I asked, needing to know why Miranda would speak of scar removal when Serena had just been snatched back from the brink of death. "Why is such a thing so very important to you, Operative Lawson?"

"I simply care about her…and her personal desires." Miranda replied, the words seeming foreign in her mouth. "She has a second chance to be as she was and I do not wish to see that jeopardized, especially not since the galaxy is at odds with their reactions to her return and her working with Cerberus. The image that she presents is highly important, and I care…"

"You care about what you've built." Dr. Chakwas interrupted, and in her tone I heard the same heat which she had used against Ambassador Udina. "I may be a simple physician compared to your expansive knowledge and divine Frankensteinian abilities, but I will ask you to remember that you brought back a person with an identity, experience, and desires vastly different from your own. Serena Shepard is not your creation, not your organization's minion or mouthpiece, and she is most certainly not your child."

"That's not…"

Chakwas raised her hand and, to my surprise, Miranda silenced. "Muscle, bone, organs, and skin all look the same, Miranda. You crafted her face, welded her nerves back together, and breathed life back into her. But do not, for one instant, think that you know the woman that Liara and I do. Serena trusts me, Ms. Lawson. She confides in me. I know that you wished to put a control chip in her brain so that she would remain faithful to Cerberus no matter what actions you and your Illusive Man might take."

Miranda's face went white and my hand curled into a fist, biotic energy spooling around it and anger burning in my heart. Yes, I might have used Shepard to take down the Shadow Broker, but never would I dream of attempting to control the mind and heart and warrior spirit that I loved. To chain such a thing would…would be a sin.

"I…I admit that such a desire was…was a mistake." Miranda muttered.

"Only after you saw evidence to the contrary." Chakwas continued in her calm, stoic manner. "But this is neither the time nor place for anger and arguments. Ms. Lawson, I would ask you to wipe the indignation from your face and realize that your secrets are not sacred, but that Shepard places a trust in you that I most certainly wouldn't, were I to be the subject of your mental alterations. Liara, rein in your biotics. You are equally at fault here. You are no longer Shepard's lover, no longer her confidant, and, in my opinion, have no more right to ask her to endanger herself. You could have gotten her killed, Dr. T'Soni, and nearly did."

I felt properly chastised by the elder human woman who held my utmost respect, and I fumbled with my lips and words for a proper reply, but found nothing. Miranda opened her mouth but Chakwas continued to speak.

"However, this is not what I came to say." Dr. Chakwas spoke, in her normal voice, the heat departed and the compassion resurged. "I came to deliver good news, and the commander's wishes. Miranda, you are ordered to cease working and get some rest. EDI has been ordered to lockout your terminals and wake you every two hours as appropriate."

Miranda's nostrils flared, her eyes hardened, and her hands clenched into fists. She turned on her heel and left us, stalking back to her quarters. She looked as though she wished she could slam the door in order to show her frustration, but her rigid back and clipped steps were enough of an indicator.

"Liara," Chakwas turned her attention on me, and I lowered my head, properly taken to task by her earlier words, "the commander has been asking for you. I want you to keep it as short as you can. Serena is more exhausted and in pain than she knows and will admit, and I want her to get some rest."

"Yes, of course." I agreed, and Chakwas led me into the med-bay.