Chapter 8

"What?!" Cassandra exclaimed. A thousand thoughts were racing through her mind every second, making focus all but impossible. "I thought you rebuilt me!"

"I did." Miranda said quietly. She too was shaken. "The technology used to bring you back is highly advanced but also flawed. Partway through the development of the Lazarus Project I came to a conclusion; either we could build you for longevity or durability. Not both. The Illusive Man and I both agreed on the latter."

"Huh?"

Miranda sighed. "It's hard to explain. It's the difference between building a machine...like a dishwasher. You can build an expensive one that will last longer, or you can build a cheaper one that won't last as long but can still do the job."

"So I'm just a dishwasher to you!" Cassandra snarled, staring darkly at the former Cerberus agent.

"Of course not!" Miranda shot back. "I wouldn't have spent two years rebuilding a dishwasher."

"Why couldn't you do both?" Cassandra said, suddenly realizing her body was trembling, sweating. Her skin was suddenly pale.

"Time." Miranda said quietly. "If I had a few more years and a couple more billion credits I could've done it. But we had no time. We needed you back before the Reapers arrived. You were remade as well as I could make you."

"But not to last." She remarked bitterly.

"I'm sorry. " Miranda said quietly.

"Can't you just replace the implants?" Cassandra asked, her voice desperate, almost breaking.

"The implants were bespoke, they weren't manufactured on a mass scale."

"What didn't you tell me this before?" Cassandra asked. The table beneath her felt like it wasn't there, like she was levitating somehow.

"I never thought we'd make it this far." Miranda said, there was some hesitation in her voice. She continued to look away from her.

"But we did. It's been a year since the Reapers died off. Why haven't you told me until now?"

Miranda said nothing.

"Answer me!" Cassandra snapped.

"I thought you'd be retiring or doing less stressful work. The implants' durability depends on how much strain they're under. They expended a lot of energy when they regenerated you a second time. Normally they replenish that energy but you've been under so much strain they can't. The drain has reached a terminal point. You seemed to be doing so well when I saw you last. I thought my projections might be wrong."

"Don't bother apologizing Miranda," Cassandra said scornfully, "You're not the first person of authority I've met who lives in denial." She regretted those words as soon as she spoke them. But she was angry, sad, confused, she didn't know what to feel, what to think. Thoughts and emotions were coalescing into a gigantic, incomprehensible maelstrom that tossed her about like a ragged doll.

"I'm sorry." Cassandra said quietly. Miranda turned to face her and Cassandra saw a single tear slide down her perfect face.

"I'll make this up to you." Miranda offered, her voice tentative.

"There's only one way to do that." Cassandra replied, her voice now sedate, flat, dead.

"I know." She said, she tried to sound firm and confident but there was underlying uncertainty in her voice. "Most of the data from Project Lazarus was lost when Wilson betrayed us. But I still have my memories, some of the old contacts and suppliers are still around. I have a staff of fifty of the brightest minds the Alliance has. We'll drop everything and work on you. It won't be starting from scratch."

They were quiet for some time. Neither looking at another, both staring straight ahead.

"I want you to understand I don't want this for me." Cassandra said softly. "This for Liara, for Aisha, for..." At the mention of her wife and unborn daughters, Cassandra erupted into tears. She wept openly, like a child, her body shaking. Miranda slowly walked over to her, confronted by something she didn't quite understand or how to react to. She was unsure if what she wanted to do was the right thing. Her initial instinct was to turn away, as she did from most strong emotions. But Miranda fought her normal instinct, she reached out and tentatively held her. Cassandra's body was cold, Miranda's arms were stiff and awkward around her, but Cassandra held onto her tightly nonetheless.

"I know. I promise you, I'll do everything I can. I brought you back from the dead, I'm sure I can do this." Miranda said, summoning all the bravado she could, and almost managed to make it sound genuine.

"Whatever you need is yours." Cassandra managed to say. She wept for another five minutes before she was able to compose herself. Miranda stood back from her.

"How much time do I have?" Cassandra asked.

"If you keep up your present high stress lifestyle, one year at the most. If you partake in a more relaxed life style, up to 3 years. It took me two years to bring you back from the dead. It'll give me plenty of time. Trust me. I'm just improving on my past work." She tried to sound upbeat, but there was doubt and worry in her voice.

"I still have the peace conference. I have to be there." She insisted.

"You can't. Your body won't handle it. It could drag on for months."

"I have to!"

Miranda looked at her and nodded slightly. "I'll allow you one week. Then you're going on a medical leave of absence. I won't take no for an answer. Any longer you risk shortening your life significantly... We'll need to be in close contact with another for this to work. I'll need to be able to see you on a daily basis, sometimes even on a moment's notice."

"I suppose we can find some room in Elyssia for you and your team." Cassandra said. Her body was still shaking. She pushed herself forward to stand up but Miranda stopped her.

"You're in no shape to walk around, physically or emotionally. I'll... I'll drive you home."

Just then her Omni-Tool buzzed. Liara was calling her. How could she know? She needed her but couldn't talk to her now. Cassandra was still weak, shaking. Her body had stopped trembling but every instant was a desperate fight against deluge of tears. She could only think of her family. She couldn't die now. She couldn't leave Liara a barren widower, she couldn't leave without watching Aisha grow up, their other children grow up.

I'm dying. She thought. Maybe she said it aloud, she wasn't sure. This wasn't like facing death in combat. In combat you knew the possibility of death, but you were so busy evading it you didn't have time to dwell on it. What you really feared was being maimed and injured. Better a bullet to the head than a mine that shredded your legs to smithereens. But this was different. There would be no quick, sudden, unexpected end for her. She would have to live out her tangibly finite existence, sitting, waiting for it to come to her. Feeling, seeing, hearing, smelling Death's scythe approach ever so closer. Nihil verum nisi mors. Maybe Death was more than a natural state, but an entity with an undeniable will of its own, an unquenchable thirst.

She'd gambled with death so many times, defied it, escaped it so many times, it was natural her luck would run out. It was partly why she so eagerly accepted retirement from the Navy, from being a Spectre. Having done everything to minimize the risks, she assumed she'd done enough to ensure she'd would die of old age. She'd earned that right. Or not. Death's scythe can only be dodged a finite number of times. But it was so wrong, she couldn't die because of faulty implants. It was absurdly anticlimactic. No, she deserved to die of old age in Liara's arms or in a blaze of glory, saving the day one last time.

Miranda held Cassandra's arm and helped her stand up. She was wobbly on her feet and her knees nearly buckled. She put her arm around Miranda and leaned on her, like she was a drunkard. Cassandra walked slowly. Each step was tentative, like she was walking a tightrope over a bottomless chasm. She was breathing heavily. She waved the C-Sec guards away with a frail shake of her head. Gingerly they walked down the hallway, into an elevator. Then out of the elevator into the parking garage. She slid limply into the passenger seat of Miranda's rental car. As Miranda activated the rental car the stereo began playing Monty Python's Always Look on the Bright Side of Life. Miranda shut it off immediately but Cassandra recognized it nonetheless. She didn't know whether to cry or laugh. So she did both.

Cassandra opened the door to her apartment. Liara was right there at the entrance, waiting anxiously for her. She weakly nodded to Liara and pointed to the sofa. She closed the door behind her, leaving Miranda outside. She struggled to hold her composure as they moved towards the sofa. Calmly they sat down. Cassandra's composure faded instantly as she embraced her soul mate. Her arms tightened around Liara like a vice, as if by squeezing her she could somehow lengthen her own life. She cried and wept. Liara held her closely, tenderly. Liara said nothing but by holding and stroking her hair Cassandra slowly calmed down. Even as she calmed down Cassandra was silent. She wanted to say something but whenever she tried to speak a gigantic lump in her throat appeared, forbidding all but air from escaping from her mouth.

"I'm... sorry." She managed to whisper after several minutes, her voice hoarse and dry.

Liara tensed.

"The implants...I'm...I'm...dy...dy..." She couldn't say the words. It was a simple word, two syllables. But nothing about the word, it's meaning, was simple. It was paradoxical, simple to understand yet difficult to comprehend the full breadth of it's complexity.

"How long?" Liara asked, her voice trembling.

Cassandra winced, every word took effort. She had to be hopeful, to be strong, she couldn't be a burden, to Liara, to anyone. She couldn't dwell on the negatives. There was hope. Best to get Liara to focus on that.

"Miranda... can fix..." Cassandra trailed off.

"How...long?" Liara punctuated each word with weakened desperation, like she was teetering above an unfathomable abyss, her words a desperate ploy that would decide whether she would plunge or regain herself. For several long, unbearably long seconds Cassandra said nothing. She manage to speak, but her voice was barely above a whisper.

"1 to 3 years."

For a moment Liara didn't react, for a moment Cassandra believed that Liara was absorbing the bad news with strength, and philosophical distance. Every asari approached death philosophically, Liara told her years ago. For a moment she believed that. And then Liara's calm demeanour dissolved, like a fresh coat of paint in a deluge of rain. There was no consolation, only commiseration. The bondmates were one, united in grief and sorrow. Neither slept.

The apartment was still rather Spartan. The room was pallid white, walls, carpets, ceiling, an almost oppressive monochromatic assault. It seemed extremely bright, even though the lights were off and the only light was being filtered by the venetian blinds. A few small side tables were scattered around the apartment, some had potted plants, white flowers in black flower pots. The soil looked dry and in need of watering. A painting on the opposite wall showed a sun setting on Thessia.

It was past seven when Cassandra's Omni-Tool buzzed. She ignored it. Liara was sitting on the sofa. She was standing away from her, looking out the window of their apartment which looked down onto the Presidium. Liara was looking at her through tearstained eyes, her silhouette outlined against the window. They hadn't said anything for an hour or so.

Her Omni-Tool buzzed again. It was Stravowsky. She dropped her arm and ignored it as it continued to buzz.

"You better answer it." Liara said coldly, her voice parched and quiet.

She answered using audio-only. She didn't know what she looked like, but it couldn't be pretty. "Yeah?" Her throat was dry and she spoke hoarsely.

"What's going on? Why aren't you in?" Stravowsky asked.

"I'm..." Cassandra paused, she'd thought it over the past hour and still hadn't decided how to answer the question she knew would be asked of her. "Can't come in today... I'll... call you later. Bye." She quickly shut off her communicator, eager to avoid contact with anyone.

"You didn't tell her." Liara said. Her voice was devoid of emotion. The previous night had wrought it out of her.

"Don't know how." She answered.

"You haven't changed your mind?" Liara's tone was hurt, angry. It made Cassandra feel worse. They'd never had serious arguments before. Liara had never been cold with her before, angry. And now of all times? She didn't want... need this. She slowly shook her head. Liara sighed angrily.

"The conference is a sham and you know it!"

"I can save it." She quietly insisted.

"But the strain you'll put yourself under...it's not worth it! Every day is precious."

"I'll do what Miranda says. A week. Then I'll go... home."

"Is that man's forgiveness really worth it?" She asked her pointedly.

She thought it over before answering.

"Yes. I can reason with him." She insisted. If she could do one more thing. Then I can go. Relax... wait for Miranda to finish her work, or for Death.

Liara sighed in despair. "He hates you. Hatred and reason are antithetical. One repels the other... Let's go home to Elyssia." She added, pleading.

"I need to do this!" She insisted.

"No you don't!" Liara screamed, her eyes raining tears, slamming her hands on the sofa. Her voice was breaking. "You've saved the galaxy! What difference does the opinion of one reprobate make?!"

"It's only one week! I promise, Liara. Not one hour longer " She said again, her voice straining to sound firm.

"You're not hearing me!" Liara shouted. "Every day is precious. We need to do everything to extend your time so Miranda can do her work!"

"You know me. You know I can't walk away like that."

Liara shook her head. "For once will you forget your sense of duty?! You owe nothing to anyone! You've earned the right to be a little selfish. No one will hold it against you."

"I can't!" Cassandra yelled. "My whole life is duty! I can't just toss it away! Not after everything we've been through!"

"You have to!" Liara yelled back, her voice shrill. The strain in her voice was tangible. "I abandoned my life as shadow broker, as archaeologist for you! I'm a... I'm a housewife! All I do is carry your babies and play the piano and publish articles! You owe it yourself! To me! To us! To our fam..."

She trailed off. There was a ponderous, heavy silence between them that hung in the air, a pendulum swinging from one to the other. Liara stood up weakly, leaning over to prevent strain on her back and settled into her hover chair. She looked at Cassandra one last time, her intoxicating blue eyes looking upon her with a forlorn expression, then her head snapped away, as if she were afraid of what she was seeing. The door closed behind her with nary a sound, a light tap, but it sounded like the trumpets of Jericho were bellowing inside her and reverberating endlessly. She stood immobile, staring at the doorway, waiting for it to open again. It did not. She walked to the sofa where Liara had sat and sat herself down where Liara had just been. The sofa was cold and lifeless.