Six months later

Lizzie stepped out of the shuttle and grabbed the canvas duffel from the back seat. She hefted it onto her back with an easy move of muscles that had become hard. New scars scored her face and throat and as she strode toward the elevators she drew glances. No one was there to meet her. The turian on door security stopped her, his focus on his console.

"Name?"

"Commander Elizabeth Shepard, N7," her voice was faintly graveled.

His head jerked up in surprise, and he stared at her in faint awe.

"Yes, Commander. Of course," he hurriedly granted her access.

"Thank you," she nodded at him and moved through the opened doors.

Miranda met her at the apartment. Lizzie dropped her satchel in a puff of dust. The woman walked to her, wrapped her arms around her in an embrace. Lizzie hesitated for a moment, then returned the affection.

"Oh Lizzie, look at you!" Miranda was cautious as she cupped Lizzie's face with her fingers.

Lizzie gave her a brief, humourless smile, "The Skyllian Verge is the frontier, Miri."

"Oh, my," Miranda touched a scar with gentle fingers, "What happened?"

"Got into a fight," Lizzie stepped back, her expression darkening, "The other guy lost."

Miranda worried her lower lip for a moment, "Well, Tali wanted to see you. She is so happy you could make it to the wedding. She and Kal are so sweet together…" her voice trailed off.

"That's great," Lizzie tried to muster enthusiasm, "Really. Look, I just need a shower before she gets here. Same room?"

Miranda pointed wordlessly. As Lizzie headed toward the bedroom, tears gathered in her eyes. What had happened to her dearest friend out there?

Lizzie stripped off, and turned to face herself in a mirror for the first time in months. There was barely an ounce of fat on her. Muscle played over muscle, and the reddened strips of scars ran over her ridged abdomen. She ran her fingers over them and scowled at the wrenching memory it brought to bear. Like she did with everything now, she clamped down on the emotions and turned on the shower, letting the hot water stream over her body and the sound to quiet the noise in her head.

Tali was full of bubble and bounce when she arrived. She had with her a couple of boxes from an elite dress company on the Citadel.

"Attendants dresses!" she cried at Miranda and set them down on the table, "Where's Lizzie?"

Miranda glanced at the doorway through which Lizzie had gone, "Showering. Look..Tali…" But Tali was chattering away already about the wedding, raving about the wedding tunic that she was to wear, and the amazing dresses she had arranged for Miranda and Lizzie.

"Tali…" Miranda tried again.

"Yes?"

"I…" but she was stalled by Lizzie's appearance in the doorway. The shower had done nothing to lift the intense tiredness in the eyes of her friend. Her skin was deeply tanned now, and she had lost so much weight, she was all muscle and no gentle curves.

"Lizzie!" Tali cried, and moved swiftly to embrace her friend. As with Miranda, Lizzie hesitated briefly before returning it, "I have your attendant's dress here, it is absolutely beautiful! I'm so glad you could make it. Oh, you have got so tanned! I didn't realise you could tan, you were always so pale - but it makes your green eyes look so much darker. But oh…" she paused and touched a hand to Lizzie's new scars, "You were hurt!" There is reproach in the young quarian's voice, "What happened?"

"It's all good, Tali, part of being N7," Lizzie tried out a smile on her face, but it looked forced, "And..uh…about the dress."

"Oh you must see it," Tali tugged her toward the boxes and opened the top one. She drew out a beautiful confection of intense blue-green silk. The straps were crystals that twined up to the neck and fell in a cascade of sparkles down the back to blend with the skirts behind. The bodice dipped in an arrow between the breasts. Lizzie rubbed her abdomen.

"Very…pretty," she acknowledged, with a glance at Miranda, "But….Tali…"

Tali thrust the dress at her, "You must try it on. You look like you have lost weight, but I'm sure it wont matter!"

Lizzie rubbed her brow, but in the force of such enthusiasm she was helpless, "Alright." She took the hangar and moved slowly back to the bedroom. She hung the dress on the wardrobe and stared at it. A beautiful woman should be wearing that. She sat on the bed and lowered her gaze to her rough, calloused, deeply scarred hands. Shit.

Lizzie tugged off her boots and rose again to slide her trousers down and tug her shirt over her head. She took the dress off the hangar and slipped it on. The sensation of the fabric was exquisite; the softest waterfall over her skin. She tied the straps behind her neck and yanked her hair roughly up into a tie. And she looked at herself in the mirror. Tears sprang into her eyes.

Her peripheral vision saw someone in the doorway. Miranda, already in her dress. Miranda smiled, "Lizzie, you are stunn…" her voice fell away and her eyes widened, "What the fuck?" The swearword from the normally refined woman was a shock. Lizzie understood.

"Yeah," she rubbed the jagged scar that the neckline revealed on her chest, "Doesn't leave much to the imagination."

Miranda swept in, her skirts fluttering prettily behind her. Lizzie couldn't help but be a tiny bit envious that Miranda seemed born to wear clothing like this. She glowed.

"You look beautiful, Miri," she stared at them both in the mirror, but Miranda was looking at her back with wide, horrified eyes.

"Oh, Lizzie," Miranda touched the skin of her back, "Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore," Lizzie shrugged, trying for nonchalant.

"What's taking you two so long?" Tali appeared in the doorway, "I want to see how you two…oh! You are both so beautiful! I knew I picked the right colour! I just knew it!" She virtually danced into the room, and it took a moment to realise something was wrong, "Lizzie? Miri?"

Lizzie smiled, "You chose well, Tali. I feel like a princess."

"You look like someone died," Tali replied warily, stepping closer. She moved to stand next to Miranda, and Lizzie turned automatically to hide the awful crisscrossing scars on her back. But she forgot there was a mirror there. She could hear a hiss of breath from the impending bride.

"Lizzie," Tali grabbed her hands and tugged her around, "Oh Lizzie. You were hurt so badly." Her voice sounded thick with tears.

"Guys! Really! It's okay," Lizzie backed away, "Sometimes it happens. I'm alive. I'm still here. Honest. Yeah, I got hurt and it was touch and go for a bit, but honestly, I'm okay."

"You never said…" Tali whispered.

"I didn't want to spoil anything. You both would have worried," Lizzie protested.

Miranda thumped her on the shoulder with a fist, "Of course we would have worried, you are family, you idiot." Tears spilled over her cheeks.

"I…" Lizzie began, and grunted as Tali threw her arms around her in a fierce embrace, "I'm sorry. I didn't think. I just…I just want to forget about it. Tali, I love you to pieces, but I can't wear this dress. It would ruin the whole look of the wedding. I will just put on something simple, and …more covered up."

"No," Tali said fiercely, "No, you are coming to my wedding. You still look beautiful. I want you to stand with me and see me get married. If you hadn't interfered, Garrus would have never gone to Kal and spoken to him for me."

"Garrus did that?" Lizzie was confused by the words being piled on her.

"You are the strongest person I know, Lizzie," Tali insisted, hanging onto her hands with a fierce grip, "You are brave and you are my best friend. You saved my life. And if anyone…anyone thinks you are less of a person because of your damn scars, then I don't care to know them."

"I…" Lizzie's eyes sparkled with tears again, "I…"

"Just say yes," Miranda smiled, and ran her hand down Lizzie's hair in that old affectionate gesture.

"Well, if you don't care, I wont either," Lizzie spoke hesitantly.

Standing beside Tali on the platform was the hardest thing she had done. She could hear the murmurs and knew some were for her. Miranda held her hand tightly, and she allowed it. This was more frightening than facing down a shipload of batarian pirates. Even if Miranda had arranged her bright hair in an upsweep that left her undoubtably stunning shoulders bare, and did that trick with the makeup that had her eyes looking mysterious and sultry. It was all appearances.

Tali did make a lovely bride. Her dark biosuit did nothing to detract from the stunning beaded ivory tunic that enhanced her stunning figure. Lizzie smiled with pride and lifted her eyes to Kal'Reegar on the other side of the platform as they waited for the service to begin. She smiled at his obvious nervousness.

And finally her gaze went to the tall turian standing just behind him. General Garrus Vakarian. He was handsome in a dark tunic, the lines on it echoing the shade of their dresses. He was watching her. She lifted her chin. And he smiled.

The reception was magnificent as befit the Quarian Ambassador and his new wife. Every species mingled and chattered, sometimes politics was spoken, but more often it was gossip. The leading topic? Did you see Commander Shepard standing up there? Look at her scars! Such an interesting decision to put her in a dress that showed them off! How…brave, how unique.

Lizzie couldn't handle crowds. Not now. She felt itchy and uncomfortable, and found herself a little bench tucked away out on the balcony. No one noticed her out here. She had a glass of wine that she slowly sipped from and a plate of food that grew cold.

"There you are,"

She closed her eyes and could have wept.

"General Vakarian," she greeted him formally.

"Already back to formality?" he sounded disappointed, "I was 'Garrus' the last time we met."

Lizzie made a soft sound that could have been a laugh, "You were getting me out of trouble then. It seemed appropriate."

"You got yourself out of trouble," Garrus replied drily, and without waiting on an invitation he sat down beside her.

"Oh, I can't seem to keep away from it," Lizzie replied airily.

"I'm not surprised," came the quick reply, "You look lovely."

"Miranda is a wizard with makeup and hair…" Lizzie flicked her fingers.

"Yes, I suppose that is all very nice too," Garrus replied enigmatically, "Will you dance with me?"

"No," Lizzie replied abruptly, then felt the need to explain, "I can't go in there. Too many people. I'm not…I can't deal with it."

Garrus took her glass of wine from her unresisting fingers. He took her cold hand in his and rose to his feet, "We can hear the music from here. We can dance out here."

She hesitated.

"Please?" he asked, his voice dropping softly.

She rose, and he took her in his arms. This wasn't the stiff dance they had first shared. To the casual observer they were entirely appropriate, but this time his hand held hers so that her fingers curved around his in a curiously intimate gesture. He splayed a hand upon her lower back, his long fingers, talon tipped, providing light pressure. Her other hand touched him hesitantly at first, and then curved over the plate on his shoulder.

"I still can't dance," she murmured, looking up into his eyes.

"I don't care," with that subtle pressure, he pulled her into the steps and she moved into

The music wound around them, muted and lovely. No one disturbed them as Garrus slowly guided her through the very simple repetitive steps. She was stiff for a few minutes, but after a while, the tension left the muscles of her back, and very gently he pulled her toward him. He rest their joined hands upon his chest, his hand slid up her back and gradually she moved toward him. Her bright gaze, enhanced by the mysterious makeup processes of human women, was locked on his. He bent his head and rested his forehead upon hers.

Lizzie felt a gentle calm slowly seep through her skin. She could feel his strength in the way he held her, guiding her steps, asking her to trust him without words. With a motion that felt natural she slid her arm from his shoulder to the smooth skin of his neck. He made a rumble that sounded the turian verson of a sigh.

"Lizzie?" someone called across the balcony, "Are you out here?"

Lizzie stiffened, and made an annoyed sound. She stepped back from Garrus and he let her go with reluctance.

"Miranda..." she murmured.

"She must need you for speeches," Garrus replied. She went pale, and he ran a hand down her bare arm, "It will be alright, Elizabeth."

"Yeah, dandy," Lizzie muttered, "I love public speaking."

Garrus rumbled a laugh, "Tali will love you no matter what you say."

"Just throw something at me if I start rambling."

"Done," he offered his arm and she took it, her fingertips gripping his bicep in fear. He grasped hers firmly.

"Thank you, Garrus," Lizzie tilted her head high, took a breath and swept in with pasted on confidence. She didn't see his look of admiration.

Shepard stepped up to the small stage that held a band hired for the event. She was handed a microphone and peered out into the vast audience. She felt her heart start to thud, then caught where Garrus was standing. He clenched his fist in front of his chest and nodded his head. Right. Courage.

"Hello everyone, you probably already know that I'm Elizabeth Shepard. Best friend of the bride. Forgive me if I keep this to the point," her faintly rasping voice filled the reception room, "I have to admire anyone who has the courage to tell someone they are in love with them. It's a scary thing to do, giving your heart to someone, trusting them with its safekeeping." Lizzie found Garrus' face in the crowd as she said that, then looked down at Tali with a warm smile, "In so many ways you are braver than me, Tali, but you have given your heart to a good man. Thank you for being my friend, and I want to wish you and Kal'reegar all the very best in the galaxy. I love you both." She gave a laugh, a husky, smokey sound, "Oh look! I can say it." Laughter and applause met her small speech. She handed back the microphone and stepped down from the stage. She moved toward Tali, embraced her, and spoke softly. Their foreheads met in their gesture of affection. She embraced Kal'Reegar and spoke with him briefly, laying her forehead upon his helmet for the first time.

As Lizzie moved slowly to the entrance, nodding at those who greeted her but stopping for no one, she realised that Garrus was standing in her path, his hands thrust into the pockets of his pants.

"Were you going to depart without bidding me farewell?" he asked of her lightly, though his subharmonics sent a different message.

Lizzie rubbed the back of her neck in a gesture that revealed her nervous tension. She finally met his eyes, and said, "I didn't know how to."

Garrus moved forward, and stood before her, his eyes fixed upon her face, "Why not?"

Lizzie looked up at him, her expression pained, "Don't ask me that, please." She shook her head, "Not yet."

His chin lifted, "I see." He stepped back, "Good night, Elizabeth."

Lizzie moved past him, her skirts swirling briefly around his legs as he stood there, his eyes staring into the distance.

Miranda came into the darkened apartment and took off her high heeled shoes. It was the early hours before artificial dawn. She set the security back on the door before turning to tiptoe toward her bedroom. She paused as she heard the sound. It was soft at first. A cry. She frowned. Was that from Lizzie's bedroom. She hesitated. What if she wasn't alone? She chewed on her lower lip. But who would be in there? Garrus? No. She was sure he left soon after Lizzie, but he just wasn't the type. She moved toward the bedroom, and opened the door slowly.

Lizzie was alone. She had tossed off the sheets with her restlessness. Clad in shorts and a singlet she was still a powerful form, even asleep. And she was troubled. Sweat slicked her limbs as her head rolled back and forth on the pillow.

Miranda stood in the doorway and glanced around at the room. She could see Lizzie's duffel bag was folded on the shelf in the closet, the rest of her clothing in a pitiful neat pile next to it. She ran her hand through her hair and startled as Lizzie began to mumble in her sleep.

"Stop…please…stop…I can't tell you," Lizzie murmured, her voice a broken, rasping, razorblade sound in the quiet.

Miranda moved into the room with hesitation and stood beside the bed.

"Sto-o-p!" the noise ripped from Lizzie's throat was a choked scream.

Miranda leaned down and touched her hand to Lizzie's shoulder.

Lizzie came out of sleep with a surge and grabbed Miranda around the throat, slamming her onto the floor, straddling her hips with her other hand risen, biotics flaring, to finish the powerful blow. Her awareness flared and she threw the biotic charge against the bed. Newton's law threw her backward to crash into the wall. She covered her eyes and screamed. Miranda, eyes wide with fear scrambled backwards.

"Get out!" Lizzie screamed, "GET OUT! GET OUT!" Her biotics flared again and Miranda crawled out of the room, shutting the door and gasping for breath. She lay her head in her hands and wept. No sound came from the bedroom behind her.

After a while, she rose slowly up, and moved toward her terminal. She had to make a call.

Lizzie hesitantly left her bedroom and the apartment was in low light. She yanked on her N7 tank and came out to the living room.

"Mir-" she cleared her throat and tried again, "Miranda?"

"She isn't here," the dual toned voice sounded from the living room. Lizzie's breath caught.

"Garrus?"

"It's me," the tall turian levered himself up from the couch and approached slowly, "Miranda has gone to stay with a friend. She asked me to watch over you."

"Oh gods, I hurt her," Lizzie's voice trembled and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

"She is unhurt, but very worried," Garrus drew to a halt just in front of her, "You are still remarkably beautiful."

Lizzie cast her eyes to the floor, "Why are you here, Garrus?"

"Miranda thought you might want someone to talk to. Someone who might have a chance at understanding what you have been through," Garrus touched her chin and drew her back so he could look into her eyes, "Talk to me, Elizabeth." He ran his taloned fingertips through her hair.

"I can't," she spoke so softly it was barely a whisper.

"Come," Garrus ran his hands down to take hers, "Come sit."

She followed him to the couch. He sat down in one corner, and she in the other, her knees up and arms wrapped around them. There was barely a foot between them, but there might have been a wall.

"What happened?" his voice was strong, his subharmonics vibrating with sympathy.

Lizzie drove a hand through her hair, and tugged hard, revealing yet another scar along her hairline.

"Batarian pirates were attacking human settlements in the Skyllian Verge," she began flatly, "I was in charge of a squad and we had to protect this settlement from an attack we knew was incoming."

Garrus reached out and touched her hand with the back of his knuckles, wary of his talons. Almost reflexively, she grasped his hand.

"We didn't have a chance. Intel wasn't complete and they hit us with wave after wave. The settlement had food supplies that the batarians wanted, and slaves for the taking," Lizzie rested her head on the back of the couch and regarded him with a bleak gaze.

"I survived the assault, as did two of my squad," she closed her eyes, "The Batarians took what was left of my squad and the settlers who hadn't died. They tortured the three of us, looking for information on Alliance resource."

Garrus was silent for a long time. She opened her eyes, before focusing on their entwined fingers.

"I was unprepared. I was…stupid. They thought I was dead. I should have been, but when they threw us into the desert, I should have been. I lost my entire squad, and I was in medical for a month."

"You were hamstrung by bad intel," Garrus interrupted her, and she looked at him again, "I have fought the batarians, and they can be harsh bastards." He tightened his hand on hers, "It wasn't your fault."

Lizzie dropped her forehead to her forearms, and a sob wracked her body. He reached out, shifted on the couch and enfolded her into his arms. Her tears soaked his wedding tunic as he rhythmically stroked her back and hair. The storm subsided after a time, and she kept her eyes closed, her cheek pressed against his chest. Her breath shuddered every few moments, and after a bit, it evened out, and he realised she slept the sleep of the exhausted. He shifted her in his arms a little and rose to his feet slowly and steadily. Arms under shoulders and knees, with her head upon his shoulder, he carried her into her bedroom. He laid her on the bed carefully, and covering her, he brushed back her hair from her face and studied the scars. They must have been painful wounds.

Garrus tugged a padded chair over to the side of the bed and sat himself down next to her, enfolding her hand with his own where its calloused, scarred digits lay on the bedspread. For a long time, Garrus sat watching her sleep. And finally drifted off himself.