Chapter 6
Standing on a balcony that overlooked the harbor, Liara breathed in the cool, refreshing night air taking note of its salty and somewhat tangy scent. While her gaze drifted aimlessly across the slow rolling waves she exhaled heavily as though attempting to release the cares of the last few days, the last few tumultuous weeks, filtering them through her thickly armored resolve. Shepard was alive and for that she was grateful, but the Spectre was not, as humans would say, out of the woods yet.
Eighteen hours earlier…
"Miranda."
"Liara."
"How is she?"
"She's seen better days, but she'll survive. She was lucky. The active cybernetics in her system saved her life."
Flooded with both concern and questions, the asari frowned. "What do you mean?"
"They found her under a pile of rubble, half a building on top of her to be exact. If her cybernetics hadn't maintained the blood flow to all her extremities there was a serious possibility that she would have experienced much more extensive damage than she has." Miranda paused momentarily as though collecting her thoughts. "Have you ever heard of reperfusion injury?"
The asari remained silent, instead shaking her head in response.
"Reperfusion injury is the tissue damage caused when blood supply returns to the tissue after a period of ischemia or lack of oxygen." The ex-Cerberus officer smiled sardonically. "Say for example, when someone is being crushed by building debris. Happens most commonly with explosion or earthquake victims. The absence of oxygen and nutrients from blood during the ischemic period creates a condition in which the restoration of circulation results in inflammation and tissue damage rather than restoration of normal functions."
"But she's going to be okay?"
"Yes, I believe so. Her cybernetics prevented reperfusion from happening. In fact, the pressure from the debris was actually beneficial for some of her injuries, but when Grunt removed that pressure other wounds reopened and she lost a lot of blood. Samara acted quickly restoring the pressure by encasing her in a biotic field. Probably saved her life, too."
Even though it wasn't cold, Liara wrapped her arms around her torso. "What else?"
"The damage to her body was… extensive. Beyond the multiple contusions and lacerations, we've repaired eight rib fractures, a dislocated left shoulder, and a fractured femur in her left leg. Also, in her left forearm both the ulna and radius bone were broken. Her internal injuries consisted of a ruptured spleen and collapsed lung while first and second degree burns covered her torso."
"But her armor…"
"Did what it was designed to do… it protected her with shields, plating and self-repair. She was hit with a high energy weapon at some point, assumedly Harbinger's beam. The ceramic plating boiled away but not before buffering the majority of the blast. It also kept her spinal cord intact while the suit's self-healing system applied medi-gel to her wounds. She's bloody lucky."
…
Liara sighed as her eyes scanned the picturesque scene before her—the obsidian heavens blanketed by thousands of white sparkling lights and the moonlight falling gently across the city of Wellington, the capitol of New Zealand and the location of the System Alliance Advanced Medical Institute. Located at the southern tip of New Zealand's North Island, the city was surrounded by hills and a rugged coastline with its suburbs spreading out in all directions. A wistful smile stretched across the asari's lips and she felt a heated pressure compress within her chest as a simple, silent prayer to the Goddess Athame hummed through her mind. She was grateful that so many stars still shined brightly above her. Things could have ended up so differently, Shepard could be dead and the Reapers still alive.
The Normandy had been in the Dakka system waiting for approval to use the relay when they received word that Commander Shepard had been found. The initial details given regarding her status were vague at best, but once the frigate returned to the Sol system with Earth as their final destination, more information followed. Liara assumed any data tied to Shepard would be classified and since she was part of the non-Alliance personnel her requests for information would have to filter down through the chain of command. That was not an efficient or acceptable option for the asari. But as she finished her computations to "listen in" on what would be a private communiqué between Major Alenko and Admiral Hackett, something surprising happened. She was asked to join them.
Liara knew Admiral Steven Hackett since the days of skirting through the galaxy on the Normandy SR-1 hunting Saren and Sovereign, but she had only met him personally on one occasion when he gave her Shepard's "recovered" dog tags while Cerberus' Lazarus Project still had the Spectre's body. After Shepard surrendered to the Alliance following the destruction the Alpha Relay, the asari became more familiar with the Admiral through direct communication with him as she searched the Mars archives for a Prothean weapon that everyone hoped could stop the Reapers. Throughout the various methods of their correspondence Liara's impression of the Admiral never shifted. He was an intelligent and honorable man, a natural leader, who valued those under his command. Although she and Shepard, because of their mutual desire for privacy, never made their relationship public knowledge, the Admiral, being a perceptive individual, recognized their romantic affiliation was something more than transitory and made sure Liara was apprised of all non-classified information regarding her lover. The asari shrewdly obtained the remaining classified information through the Shadow Broker network.
The meeting with the Major and the Admiral was informative, but not necessarily reassuring. Ultimately one set of worries and concerns was replaced by another. Shepard had been found but was in critical condition and had been rushed to the best medical facility still intact after the Reaper invasion. Somehow during the many months of Reaper occupation, New Zealand had been virtually untouched which was highly fortunate considering it was the location of the Alliance's principal medical research facility on Earth.
About twenty-four hours after the red wave of energy pulsed through the cosmos, the Normandy SR-2 found itself back in the Sol System. Roughly four hours later, the frigate was hovering above Earth waiting for docking orders as its shuttle flew a small crew down to Wellington. Commander Shepard remained in surgery for another three hours.
Afterwards, the individual overseeing Shepard's care, Miranda Lawson, spoke directly with Liara…
Eighteen hours earlier…
"…brain swelling. Immediately on her arrival we had to medically induce a coma which helped alleviate the swelling and pressure on the brain."
Pensively, the asari asked, "Will there be any permanent damage?"
"It's too early to tell. We'll know more when Shepard wakes up."
"When will that happen?"
"That's unknown," said Miranda, the low raspy sound of her voice couldn't be mistaken for anything other than weariness. "We stopped administering the drugs, so now it's just a matter of them being weaned from her system."
"And her other injuries? Will there be permanent damage?"
"I don't expect there to be." Chuckling, the former Cerberus officer added, "She may ache just before it rains or if she gets cold though."
A halfhearted smiled touched Liara's lips, but it was not reflected in her cloudy blue eyes. "She complains of both already."
"Then I don't believe she'll have anything new to adjust to."
"Good," said the asari absently, as though her mind was on something else.
"You should get some rest. At the earliest, it will take four hours for the drugs to leave her system."
"Miranda…" Liara hesitated, gathering her thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
The brunette nodded. "I owe Shepard a lot. I'm glad I am able to help."
…
Shaking her head, Liara ended her reminiscence and returned her focus to the seascape before her. The soft rays of moonlight blanketing the quiet harbor were both charming and peaceful, but there was also a sourness that enveloped the surreal scene. After all the death and destruction she had witnessed on Palaven, on Thessia, and in London—to see this small untainted pocket of serene imagery was almost too much for the researcher to bear. Like the Presidium on the Citadel, the pristine view made it easy to get lost in the beauty and to want to forget the horrors that had occurred over the last few months.
Abruptly, Liara turned away from the balcony, blinking back the rush of wetness in her eyes, and headed into the medical facility towards Shepard's private recovery room. She didn't want to forget. They may fade in time, but those images were never going to escape her memory. The sacrifices bound in that devastation deserved to be remembered.
The corridors of the medical building were stark white, clinical and clean which served as a sharp contrast to the cozy ambiance of Shepard's room. Directly across from the entrance was a large window, friendly and inviting, which overlooked the harbor below. A tan faux-suede couch and a glass-top coffee table with a mahogany wood frame were located to the left of the window. To the right of the room's entrance was a private restroom complete with its own shower. Shepard's bed and the equipment monitoring her health and dispensing aid were on the far left wall of the room.
As if on cue, when she looked on the form of her lover lying in the hospital bed Liara's chest compressed and she found herself unable to breathe. The Spectre's normally light bronze skin was ashen and marred with angry looking dark blue and purple bruising under her left eye and across both cheek bones. She looked vulnerable and frail, two words the asari never thought to associate with the human woman. Words such as dynamic, potent, or even aggravating were more likely candidates, but while lying supine and very still with only a medical gown and light blanket covering her features, surrounded by equipment monitoring every one of her body's vital functions, her lover seemed fragile.
After an extended surgery which mended wounds and broken bones, the Spectre was moved to a secured Intensive Care Unit and placed in a private room. Over the course of many hours, the Spectre's bandages had been changed, all the tubes—minus the catheter and IV—had been removed and she had been given a sponge bath. But even with the bruising along her face and body receding and most of her injuries deceptively covered by gauze or cloth, the Spectre didn't look peaceful. She looked weak and defenseless.
When Liara walked over to the bed, a petite human female with short auburn hair who stood next to the monitoring equipment keying information into her datapad met the asari's gaze and slowly shook her head. No changes. The researcher tenderly captured the right hand of the woman who had yet to regain consciousness and leaned down to place a soft, deliberate kiss on each knuckle. Eighteen hours had passed since the medicine which induced coma had ceased, but the Spectre made no sign of being roused from her forced unconsciousness. Blood tests revealed that all the medication had been flushed from her system and the brain swelling which had triggered the treatment was no longer an issue. For some reason she was not waking up, but no one had a reason as to why.
Pinching the bridge of her nose with her right hand, Liara stifled a wave of irritation. Since the moment she arrived, a constant stream of medical personnel filtered in and out of the room administering some kind of aid or documenting the various states of recovery. The asari understood it and was grateful for it, but she wanted, needed, an uncensored moment alone with her lover.
Liara ran the fingers of her left hand gently across the Spectre's cheek, then acquiesced to the crowded reality of the moment and moved over to the couch. Once settled, she picked up one of the many datapads lying on the coffee table and took refuge in the only activity which had the unique ability to distract her—monitoring and issuing orders over the Shadow Broker network. By the time the Normandy returned to the Sol System, the network had regained full functionality and the researcher had set about to gather as much information on the status of the war, the state of the Reapers and help organize relief efforts. It hadn't taken long before she received the final word through her Broker spies and military contacts from one end of the quadrant to the other that the Reaper threat was truly over. The ancient machine race had failed its objective to harvest all sentient life.
The most difficult aspect of the researcher's efforts was collecting data on the casualties throughout the various systems and using triage mentality on a planetary scale when sending supplies and prioritizing which rescue operations to supplement with Broker resources. Graceful fingers flew across the datapad, issuing the commands formed from strict logical deductions as her emotional and empathetic responses were systematically compartmentalized. This was the only way she knew to get through the moment. It was the only technique that had gotten her through the thoughts of Thessia's fall, and later on of Shepard's demise. Instead of grieving about the tragic situations she was confronted with, Liara shifted all of her energy into finding ways to ease the adversity and misfortune of others.
As she sipped on a cup of hot herbal tea, Liara settled back into the couch, closing her eyes momentarily while exhaustion settled into every fiber of her being. She knew she was pushing herself too hard, but sleep had been an elusive companion over the last few days. Her dreams only brought chaotic images and feelings of anxiety while idle time brought too many nonproductive 'what if' thoughts. She had survived by indulging in brief respites on the couch—what Shepard called 'cat naps'—during lull moments and then walking outdoors for a dose of fresh air when the room became crowded with technical personnel running tests.
Squad mates, both past and present, filtered in and out of the room to check on Shepard's status and encouraged, sometimes forced, the asari to take much needed breaks. Garrus and Tali had been particularly adamant, only relenting after Liara had showered and eaten a hot meal, the first she'd had in days. Dr. Chakwas, who had the most practical experience treating Shepard over the years, took up residence in the facility and under the orders of Admiral David Anderson, was now working with Miranda, who was still considered the primary physician. The ex-Cerberus officer had been unusually thoughtful updating the asari directly as new information about her lover was confirmed.
…
Liara woke with a start, disoriented by her surroundings until she recognized the room and remembered what happened, she had drifted to sleep while reclining on the couch. Miraculously, the cup of tea still in her hand hadn't spilled while she was resting or when she woke suddenly. She placed the cup on the coffee table, then put her feet on the ground stretching her arms above her head and twisting her torso, working out the kinks left from her impromptu nap. As she looked around the room, she noticed something was different. She was alone in the room with Shepard.
Slowly she moved over to the bed pulling up a chair so she could sit on the right side of her lover and hold her hand. The fingers were limp and the palm cold.
While on the Normandy, Liara had drawn within, protectively desensitizing herself from the harshness of the reality and unknown quantities around her. She couldn't afford to give in to the grief and desolation because there were things that needed to be accomplished, objectives that had to be met. There was no time for a breakdown, it was a luxury that she could neither afford nor allow. Even now, on Earth, she felt herself cold, empty and overstretched; curiously separate from what she did while helping refugees in various corners of the galaxy.
But now, as Liara looked on the broken and battered form of her unconscious lover, the walls she had deliberately constructed began to crumble. The worry, dread and fear she had so carefully contained while devoting her energy to the issue of returning to Earth threatened to break through. She let out a shaky breath and slumped over, resting on the edge of the bed. For a moment her resolve cracked and one thought slipped through the self-imposed barrier—she could not conceive of what life would be like without those pale green eyes and impish grin shining back at her.
"Shepard," whispered Liara, realizing that her eyes were swelling with moisture, "the war is over. You can come home now. Come back to me."
Then the tears came, hot, heavy and this time uncontrollable. Her body shook with wracking sobs that she was utterly helpless to contain, her breaths coming in short uneven gaps as the unbridled anguish of the last few days was finally released in a furious torrent. The salty wetness flowed freely down her cheeks until all of her grief was spent leaving in its wake an exhaustion which felt eternally heavy. She didn't know how long she wept and she didn't care. All that mattered was that Shepard was alive, and in this moment, she was the center of Liara's universe. The researcher held onto her lover's hand, curling into it as drowsiness, hypnotic and dull, overtook her senses sinking her consciousness into the warm depths of a long awaited slumber.
…
Alone in the darkened room, nobody noticed a pale green wisp of energy coiling around the sleeping asari and her unconscious lover.