Muted beats slowly rouses Jane from her slumber. With a disgruntled groan, she turns into the couch and pulls the pillow over her head. It's too late. Her brain is already asking questions, curiosity needling her to investigate. She tosses her pillow at her feet with a sigh, grimacing when she's too slow on the uptake. Pain throbs as pins and needles, trickery trying to persuade her that her feet are asleep. She twists and pushes herself up abruptly, reaching over to her wheelchair to push on the button for the transfer board to whir out from it's slot under her seat.

The melody brings a measure of reprieve, a distraction from the inevitable that's about to lock her in a choke hold. She plants her palm on the transfer board as she shimmies her rear up along it, slipping into the wheelchair. She retracts the board and brings up the arm rest, smoothing out her tanktop's wrinkles—however futile—before she sucks in a breath. She carefully tucks the ends of her shorts beneath her stumps, wincing upon rubbing the sensitive incision.

Ready to set out, she unlocks the brakes and pulls on the wheel's rims to coax momentum in reverse. She cautiously weaves around the furniture as she turns around, rolling towards the kitchen. The door's closed. Her lips pull in a smirk upon hearing humming inside.

It's a no brainer whether or not she wants to crash the party.

Reaching forward, she touches the button to open the door, chuckling upon catching Liara in all her glory of dancing for all of a second before the asari whirls around upon the intrusion. The poor blue cheeks darken—quickly—as Liara's mouth goes slightly agape in her embarrassment, already working up a stammer in her defense. Jane wheels forward to come up, holding out one of her hands. It seems to brew concern in those deep blue orbs, and instead Liara reaches over the counter to tap the hologram for the music to pause.

"Why'd you stop it?" Jane asks, her brow raising upon deciphering the guilt in the way Liara's shoulders hunch—apart from her face being a dead giveaway. "What's wrong, doc?"

"You... Well... I did not mean to flaunt it," Liara mumbles, almost as if still trapped in her stupor of being caught. "It is why I had the door closed."

"Flaunt it?" Jane retracts her hand, grabbing hold of the rims to wheel a small distance back. Her gaze falls, and it pieces together upon looking at her stumps. "Oh."

For a fleeting moment, something broiling hot sparks deep in her chest. She forces a grin as she looks back up at Liara, manipulating the wheelchair so that she spins in her spot, before she drives in reverse to circle the center island.

"It's alright, love. You're not flaunting anything. Don't feel the need to hide, yeah? I like it when you enjoy yourself. Those were some good tunes, too." Jane's eyes pan over to the stove, her stomach clenching painfully upon seeing some prepped vegetables set aside and ready to cook. The aromas are just as muted as the music was earlier. She fixes her gaze back on Liara, who seems to be observing her as if trying to gauge some sort of truth. The marine represses a sigh as she holds her hand over her heart. "Swear it on my life, hon. Scout's honor."

For some reason, Liara's turning burgundy again. She seems to be tilted out of whatever's captivated her thoughts, moving towards the stove after she reluctantly resumes the music.

"I'm going to be frying these, won't add anything else. Something nice and light that will hopefully be easy on your stomach."

"I'm not hung-"

"I know." Liara briefly casts a sorrowful smile over her shoulder. "You need something though, siame. Try for me?"

Jane frowns, slowing her marathon around the island as she rolls up off-side. "I don't want to puke, though. At least lemme have a bucket just in case."

"Are you saying my cooking is that bad?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the marine chuckles. "Just... I dunno. I wish I could flip my appetite around that easily."

"Only one way to find out."

Reluctantly, Jane concedes with a sigh. "You're right."

"Naturally. I always am."

A wicked delight sparks Liara's eyes as she gives a cheeky glance out to the side, and Jane laughs as she comes up behind, reaching to playfully pinch the scientist's hips. "Listen here, you..."

A series of dings draws their gaze to the ceiling, an indicator that someone's ringing at the apartment entrance. They exchange confused looks, and Liara shuts off the stove before leaving to answer the door. Jane rolls along behind, leaning to the side to get a good glimpse over Liara's elbow when she opens the door. The marine immediately grins, mischief flaring to life upon seeing a brawny man with an eye-patch and an N7 cap inconspicuously covering his head.

"Do you still love nature, despite what it did to you?"

Liara looks at her with bewilderment, admonishing. "Jane!"

Low laughter rumbles into their small hallway, and the other marine gives a brief salute. "Why don't you shut up and give that hole in your face a chance to heal, girl?"

Puzzled, Liara steps over to the side, giving what little space is left to Jane as she wheels in closer. She salutes back before stretching out her hand for a shake. "How'd you find me?"

"You ain't exactly hard to dig up info about," the N7 shrugs. "Put two and two together when a Rear-Admiral was pushin' around a rookie—and what do you know? That rookie's the youngest marine to earn a Star of Terra."

Earn. It makes Jane laugh, though it sounds more like a harsh bark from a wounded animal. Liara intervenes as she gestures down the hallway, her timidity bowing her head a little as she averts eye contact. "Um... Would you like to come inside, Mr...?"

"Frankenstein," Jane interjects mischievously. She cackles when the man sighs. "Hey, man, you're in my home. You better know what you're signin' up for by stepping in here."

"Shock me by saying something intelligent," the marine sasses back, tugging on the lip of his hat lower to sit just above his eye-patch. His sharp eye snaps to the scientist, and there's a small urge to protect surging in Jane, wheeling closer towards him. He smirks at her and reaches over to give a playful—audacious—ruffle of her hair. "And here I thought the stories about you couldn't be true, you couldn't possibly have that much air," he taps the side of his head. "At ease, girl, I'm not here to throw hands." He looks back up at Liara. "A pleasure to meet you, Doctor T'Soni. Please call me Riley."

Manners from this asshole?

Jane balks in disbelief, narrowing her eyes at the man who could use some toilet paper for his breath. One tentative hand falls on her shoulder, and she looks up and over at Liara, who looks so utterly lost with the atmosphere. Her eyes seem to be pleading for an explanation. The marine sighs and reluctantly offers one, shrugging it all away as if it's no big deal. She carefully turns in the hallway to lead the way towards the living room. "This is the guy that blew my legs off on Torfan."

"This is the guy that saved what's left of yer bleedin' arse, ungrateful girl," Riley grumbles.

"H-how do you know who I am?" Liara inquires nervously, the sounds of their footsteps tailing Jane's ears after she listens for the door hissing shut. She wants to groan, praying this visit will be short.

"You're even easier to dig up information about," Riley chuckles.

This chaos inside of Jane bodes ill, and she doesn't know how to make sense of the myriad of emotions swimming inside of her now. On one hand she's elated, wanting to poke more fun. On the other, rage burns inside and gnaws away at her stomach. She struggles to keep it together to keep the mood light, to try to set Liara at ease with how wary and studious the asari is now of the man and the atmosphere that won't stop shifting.

"So why are you here?" Jane asks, trying not to come as accusatory—hard not to. An N7 doesn't just make a home visit for no reason.

Especially one who's gone out of his way to do research on her and those affiliated with her.

"I can't check in on my favorite rookie?" Riley cheekily quips, laughing at the deadpan look the younger marine gives him. He gestures to the couch and makes himself at home as he asks. "May I?"

"Didn't say you could," Jane grumbles under her breath.

"O-oh, of course," Liara stammers, striding towards the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? I have a wide array of teas, a few different grounds of coffee."

"Water is fine," Riley smiles, though it falls and he looks serious when the asari disappears. His gaze pans to Jane. "Not hard to dig up information on you at all."

"Is that a threat?"

"What? No! Jesus, girl, stop thinking I'm here to assassinate you or something. You ain't that interesting."

Jane locks the brakes on her wheelchair and crosses her arms with a huff. "So what the hell are you here for?"

"Why haven't you been doing anything with yourself?"

"That's none of your business."

"I've seen your search history."

"Fucking hell," Jane groans, shaking her head. "You're not my dad. What's next, you gonna lecture me on porn I looked up when I was a teenager?"

"You haven't followed through with anything," Riley presses, inching forward on the couch. "The programs exist for a reason, and that's to help marines like you."

"And why does that matter to you?"

Riley stares at her, sucking in a deep breath. He pulls his hat off and gingerly tosses it on the coffee table. Jane struggles to keep her gaze on his, but morbid curiosity studies. Half his skull is missing, with grotesquely grafted skin patches warring for territory with receding hair. Her eyes fall to the floor when he lowers his voice. "I read all the reports, girl. Talked to Ensign Garcia too."

"Fuck him," Jane seethes, fury licking nerves upon the mention of that coward's name. She looks up, jaw rippling, teeth clenching, her only reprieve to snap her out of it are the sounds of something shattering. They look over at the source. Liara's at the door of the kitchen, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and horror.

Riley sighs as he fixes his hat back on his head. "Sorry, ma'am. Shouldn't have removed it."

"N-no... My..." Stunned, Liara stammers fruitlessly. She flushes with embarrassment and retreats in the kitchen with a shy apology, using her biotics to clean up the broken pieces of the mug.

Silence briefly falls, but Riley wastes no time to break it as he looks back at Jane. "You lead green Ensigns to follow you into the bulk of the enemy force, determined to make it to the bunker to support the N7 unit."

"...Okay? And?"

"If you didn't..." Riley frowns slightly. "I wouldn't be sitting here. The mission wouldn't have been a success, and we wouldn't have destroyed the base."

"You didn't seem keen on whether my unit and I lived or died when you needed us to cause a distraction for your bomb."

"A necessary sacrifice I determined, at the time."

"And now? What sacrifice are you determining, at this time?" Toxins build on Jane's tongue, heat collecting at the base of her throat as it claws up her chest. "Get to the point already. Why are you here?"

"To help you."

"I don't need your help, Frankenstein."

"Don't get smart with me girl."

"Am I? How would you know?"

Riley sucks in a deep breath through his nostrils, closing his eye as his hand comes up to massage around the patch. "You're as hardheaded as they fucking come, rookie." He lifts his head wearily. "I'm here with an offer, girl. Sign up for one of the programs-"

"I don't have the finances for prosthetics. Not... The decent ones, anyways. I'd still be useless because I'd only be good for two hours at best before they start to become a hindrance than help me. But you apparently already know that if you've gone through my search history."

Leaning back in his seat, Riley studies her. He looks over and smiles politely when Liara comes back with a fresh mug, still blushing from her earlier gaffe. He accepts the water and sips on it with an infuriatingly thoughtful look, his gaze fixated on Jane. The scientist meanders over and sits in one of the other chairs, unsteady and uncertain. Comfort snakes in the form of fingers intertwining with Jane's when Liara reaches for her hand, squeezing gently. Jane squeezes back as she gives a reassuring smile to hopefully help her partner feel a little at ease, despite the mood and confusion.

"If you'll dedicate yourself to what it takes to get prosthetics..." Riley continues. He cradles the mug in his hands, thumb pacing the rim. "I will personally send a commendation for you to be invited to the System Alliances' Interplanetary Combatives Training program."

Jane's eyes widen and she damn near chokes on her spit. "I'm sorry, what?" She stares in disbelief as the man settles comfortably in his seat, smirking as he drinks his water. "Wait, wait wait... Like, to be N7?"

"If you make it to that rank, yes. It's not a free pass just like everything else that's been falling in your lap since Elysium, girl. Ranks are fought for and earned rather than given to placate you."

That scalds Jane a little, her pride puffing her chest. "I've earned my ranks."

"You were promoted out of pity, and because of who your parents are."

"Fuck you!"

"So prove the Alliance you are a Commander. Prove to me you're not just an Ensign. I'll even upgrade your prosthetics for you if you can make it to N2."

Liara stirs uneasily in her seat, holding tightly onto Jane's hand as the marine fumes over the audacity of this stupid Frankenstein. A thumb paces over her knuckles back and forth, silently working to soothe her. Jane looks over, struggling to relax her jaw when the back of her teeth grind in painful pressure. She collects herself, somewhat, scowling back at Riley.

"Didn't you hear me earlier? I don't have the finances. I'd need the best of the best if I have any chance in the ICT program. The programs in place for me are just basic prosthetics."

"I'll sponsor your surgery for osseointegration if you just register yourself for one. Show me you're committed."

"Jane..." Liara whispers with worry.

The marine is stumped, balking, her mind going blank as her heart damn near leaps a few beats. Her throat tightens. She swallows audibly. "Why are you doing this for me?"

"You don't remember what I said? The toughest bastards I've ever known have still served even after losing all their limbs." Riley leans forward with a subtle grin. "That surgery ain't easy either though, girl. Do you know what it entails?"

"All I remember is something about a metal anchor," Jane mumbles, dazed as her mind spins to process the weight of all of this as it sinks in.

"They'll hammer a titanium implant into the bone, of which it'll be able to attach prosthetics to then. As long as you have that anchor, that'll open up more opportunities of what will be available to you, based on what you want and need." His grin grows a little more. "Goes without saying you'll need a hell of a lot more speed."

"Fuck you," Jane mumbles again, the daze eating up her bite. And then she smirks, laughing a little. "You're fucking crazy."

"Seems like I lost the bit of my brain that makes me smart, huh? Now ain't you glad I can still talk, honey?"

"Don't push your luck, asshole." Jane leans back in her wheelchair, looking down at her stumps, at the blue hand intertwined with hers. She gives a squeeze the moment she feels fingers tighten against hers in concern. She looks up at Liara, smiling away to set this worrywart at ease.

A fire is stoked and renewed inside of her, and she grins as she looks at Riley. "Alright, Frankenstein. I'll do it. And I'll make you eat your fucking words too."

"Heh!" The man sets the mug on the coffee table as he rises, taking long strides and sneaking in one last audacious ruffle of hair as he passes her, warding away her attacking hands. "Looking forward to it. I'll confirm your registration and shoot you an address of a gym I've scouted out. Meet me there at 0600 sharp tomorrow."

Without, oh, any further fucking explanation, the N7 helps himself out of the apartment, leaving the two women lost to process what's just happened. Jane turns to Liara.

"Did I hear that right? Confirm my registration? Did that motherfucker sign me up anyways?"

"Um..." Liara doesn't have anything to say, her gaze languidly traversing over to the hallway. "I... I'm not sure?"

"That asshole would've had to pretend to be me when he signed me up," Jane states deadpan. She engages her omni-tool the moment she feels a buzz at her fingertips, glaring at the screen—and address—sent to her by an unknown sender, bypassing her security. She huffs. "The nerve! Fucking Frankenstein plagiarized my I.D. and hacked my omni-tool!"

"I'd like to kick you in the teeth, but that would be an improvement," Jane growls as she pulls herself up over the bar, glaring at the cheeky asshole smirking away in front of her as he counts full reps.

"Such a shame you ain't got the means to improve me," he quips back. "You're slacking. I'm not counting that one."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck you," Jane wheezes all the way on her slow controlled descent down. "And ain't got the means yet." She wars to keep her jaw relaxes, tensing only her back muscles to engage them on the start of her next pull-up. "If brains were dynamite, you wouldn't have enough to blow your nose."

"Will you save that damn energy into doing a proper pull-up, girl? Not counting that one either."

Jane groans and almost slackens completely, quickly wiping her sweaty palm to have some measure of grip on the bar. If she lets go, she falls on her stumps. She doesn't dare beg for her wheelchair to be situated back underneath her, knowing that Riley will just tauntingly toe it right out of distance instead. Her mischief refuses to let up, equally determined to give Riley just as much of a hard time as he's giving her.

"I heard you took an IQ test and your results came back negative."

Riley chortles, before pushing her wheelchair underneath her, waiting until she snaps the belt-buckle to keep her squarely in her seat. "Alright that makes one-sixty. You've earned a water break." He holds his hands out and hovers over her rib cage, bracing her as she cautiously lowers herself back down on her seat while lifting her stumps up so as not to get caught and chafed. He tosses her water bottle to her and she tears off the lid to chug it for dear life, catching a cloth with her face when he throws it next.

"That's fair," Jane concedes with a grumble, wiping herself. She catches a few looks from other asari and mixed species in the gym, before Riley forces her focus by gesturing to a cable machine. She hands him back her bottle and wheels over, feeling the twinges in her arms as the last remnants of muscle scream to stay alive. She waits until he sets up the weight for her and attaches the overhead bar. She wheels underneath and viciously represses any urges to groan when she reaches above her head. Her shoulders are most definitely going to be dead after today, but there's a worse problem brewing beneath her. She feels disgusted by the amount of sweat collecting, silently grateful that Liara had the smart idea to line the seat with a couple towels.

"Quit slacking," is all Riley says, for the goddamn umpteenth time.

Jane sighs as she pulls the bar downwards to her lap, only to find the cable pulling her and the wheelchair up. She laughs as the N7 rushes to grab onto one of the wheels so that she doesn't swing wildly about in the air, carefully lowering her after she lets go of the bar. He saddles up behind her and puts all his weight down onto the back of the wheelchair before she resumes her exercise.

The entire time, her mind won't stop wandering. She still hasn't traded much other than barbs with this man. He's exceedingly polite to Liara, but only when it seems as though he thinks he's out of Jane's earshot. It threatens her image of him being chauvinistic prick.

Even if it's just to rile her up.

Looking around the gym, again, she spots Liara at the far end as the asari appears to be struggling with a treadmill, chuckling to herself. She fully intends to be a little shit and tease about it later. It doesn't seem as though exercise is the scientist's forte, nor a joy with how miserable she always looks—but still she dutifully commits to it in silent solidarity. She could just chill on the sidelines.

"You're slacking again," Riley reminds.

Jane grunts, straining to pull the bar. Her arms quake. She purses her lips as she hisses her breath outward on controlling the bar's ascent back to position. Upon the clack, she lets go and leans in her chair, grateful to have the water bottle stuffed in her hands again.

"Do you know what the Alliance tests before approving the surgery for the prosthetics?" Jane inquires tiredly, wiping the moisture off her face again. "I can't imagine arm strength plays a huge role in whether or not my legs can handle fake legs."

"You'd be surprised. It takes a major toll on your body, so every part of you has to be twice as strong in order to handle the additional stress you'll be under. It depends on what kind of prosthetics you'll want after the surgery though." Riley heads around to the front of her and kneels to be somewhat level with her. "You still have yet to declare a class designation, but your accuracy scores leans heavily towards rifles—specifically sniping. You've dabbled in hacking in the past. Why haven't you declared to learn and train as an Infiltrator?"

"Do I want to know how much you know about me?" Jane whines a little, closing her eyes as she leans her head back to rest on the edge of the wheelchair. "Nevermind, don't answer that." She gives a little shrug. "I don't think I'm smart enough to get the hang of hacking. I've only done small stuff—mostly to mess with Liara."

"You were able to hack into one of the office computers on Elysium."

Jane eyes Riley warily. "I never wrote that in my report."

He taps his forearm. "Your omni-tool records. Granted, I don't know why you had done that, but I am assuming by engaging the audio mic, it was to speak to the enemy."

"To trick them that Tony and I were in that room. Tony was the civilian with me," Jane answers absent-mindlessly, memories plucking from beyond the haze. She steels herself in the present when she realizes just how much information could be made available from a simple hack. "Anyways, I've seen some of the complicated processes. I'm not that talented."

"You could learn."

She frowns a little, staring at him to try and gauge what this man really thinks of her—or wants from her. "You seem pretty insistent on this."

"I should seem pretty confident on this, just the same as you should be confident in yourself too, rookie." Riley rises on his feet and plants a firm hand on one of her wheelchair's handles. "One more set."

Jane stifles her grunting and struggles as she reaches for the bar one last time. Her mind wanders as she sinks in as much reps as she's able, stealing a glance over her shoulder to look at the N7 waiting patiently behind her, his eye on the bar to count her 'successful' reps. There's no way. She fully believes her form is proper, and that whatever constitutes as 'success' in his rulebook is decided purely on a second-by-second basis of his whims to mess with her that second or not.

Something blue appears in the fuzzy part of her peripheral vision—laughable, really, with how much blue there is in this gym, but Jane's gaze immediately hones in on the asari approaching them. She grins at how exhausted and wobbly Liara looks. It propels the last ditch of strength to pull in her last few reps, if only to get them finished up here and at home sooner rather than latter.

Upon the last clack, Riley gives a pat on her shoulder, with a casual salute when she looks up at him. "See you same time tomorrow, kid. Good job today—best sets in all the week."

"Th-thanks..." Jane says, slightly surprised by the praise, even if as abrupt as his sudden arrivals and departures in her life right now. She shrugs it off and goes back to grinning at Liara when the asari finally makes it to her, patting her stumps. "You look like you need a seat."

"I detest running, siame," Liara sighs miserably. "I do not know how you used to love it so."

Jane laughs. She looks back at the N7 exiting to the locker rooms. "Mark my words: I'll be the fastest fucking runner the galaxy has ever seen."

Anxiety stinks up the air, and Jane is having trouble deciphering if it's the stink of her worry or Liara's. The marine is going to be prepped for surgery, soon. She nervously eyes the catheter threaded in the back of her wrist. Her mind won't stop parroting the doctor's run-through of what happens during surgery and what to expect thereafter. She grimaces at the thought of a giant hammer smashing a big titanium rod into her stumps, making belly button shrivel and shrink up towards her spine.

Liara's thumb paces over Jane's knuckles, with the asari trying so very hard to appear as casual as unperturbed as every bit she isn't, reading something on her omni-tool in the mean time.

When the nurse enters, the two reluctantly say their goodbyes, struggling to maintain their veneers of calm to soothe the other. Jane forces a grin and gives a casual salute as the scientist leaves. Her stomach recoils viciously when the door hisses shut behind Liara. She falls quiet, following the nurse's instructions to the letter as the IV line is disconnected, and the plinth's arm rests are pulled up to be locked in. She's wheeled out the room and down the hallway, coming into the surgery suite where a couple other nurses—or technicians, or surgeons, who are all these people?—wait for her.

Everyone preps for their own war, checking instruments, rolling over a small table that makes her eyes grow big over how obscenely gnarly some tools look. She's particularly fixated on what appears as a saw. She nervously looks over when a nurse hovers over her side, fitting an oxygen mask over her.

"We are going to start the anesthetic machine soon, Miss Shepard." The nurse lowers the backrest, and another rolls a spare plinth for some reason. "Can you count to ten for me?"

Jane is laid fully down. Her head lulls over, her curious mind trying to deduce the puzzle piece that is the second plinth.

"One," she counts.

And is pulled to slumber.

Within a few hours, the surgery is over. Liara feels as though she is caught in a daze as a nurse leads her back to the room she was in earlier with Jane, muscles tensing apprehensively with each step she nears. She holds her breath when she enters the room, guided and encouraged to take a seat before the nurse leaves.

Don't look.

Don't think about it.

Nervous eyes flit over the sheets that host a different shape again. She feels like she's barely just processed the lack of shape upon studying the stumps veiled underneath bed sheets.

She wonders if Jane is going to sleep as far away from her as possible all over again.

Instinct lures her hand to come up and slip over Jane's, squeezing a little. She observes the peaceful features coaxing the marine into a state of pure relaxation, that of which has not been seen for a long time. Liara scoots her chair closer as she reaches up, tracing some of the old scars, like the 'crate' that was responsible for creating the gash above the eyebrow. The slight swell that's permanently stayed on the cheekbone—perhaps there was a small fracture, leading to this subtle disfigurement.

What will the cost be next time?

An age-old question that won't cease to torment her. She's terrified, truth be told. She wants to support. She wants to give that space for Jane to figure out what she wants to do with herself, with her life, without influence. But... This whole program? This 'N7' ordeal, whatever that really entails? All Liara has gathered from the excited ramblings of Jane's obvious hero worship is that they are regarded the most elite of the elite forces.

All Liara can remember from that all is Mr. Riley's sunken skull.

Teeth worry her lip. Her thumb falls to trace the rim of the oxygen mask fitted over Jane's mouth. She tries to push away the grotesque images of her lover with only half her head.

Her gaze falls on the stumps. They have the silhouettes of rods protruding from them. These are supposed to help Jane walk. How will that look? How long will that take? So much of this is left at the mercy of fate, and her chest tightens at the thought. She's become increasingly aware of the panic growing in her each day, the ball lumping in her throat, the weight sitting on her lungs. A shaky breath stutters out of her, and she bows her head as she brings Jane's hand up to rest it against the scarred knuckles.

All of this is terrifying. These sights are horrifying. The way her lover's mood can shift so quickly is still hard to adapt to. One moment Jane can be laughing, and because of a joke she makes without thinking, the gravity of it all falls on her when her brain catches up with memories. Her melancholy hurts worse than her bouts of fire.

Maybe, just maybe, it'll all finally change for the better when she receives her prosthetics and the means to walk again. This is all good, right?

Mr. Riley's skull flashes through Liara's mind again.

"Mm... Ngh..." Jane stirs, her eyelids fluttering, clouded greens flickering about, unfocused. They land on Liara. A sloppy smile tugs at the corner of lips, and for some reason the beckons that lump of panic within the asari again. She squeezes immediately upon feeling the weak hand tighten on hers. She reaches and clasps the marine's wrist before the oxygen's mask is pulled off.

"You need to wait for the nurse." Liara reaches for the handle behind the plinth, giving it a slight tug to call for one. She realizes she's held her breath when it wooshes out of her upon noticing Jane's fallen back asleep. When the nurse enters, she smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, she just fell asleep again."

"But she was awake?" The nurse comes around the other side.

"Yes."

"Ah, good, then." The nurse lays a gentle hand on Jane's shoulder and gives a slight shake. "Miss Shepard? You have to stay awake."

"No," comes the slight muffle beneath the mask. "Today is canceled."

"Siame," Liara sighs, chuckling slightly.

Mischievous greens flutter back open, though they also house confusion for some reason. The oxygen is taken off by the nurse and the machine is turned off. Vitals are checked, some answers are slurred and slightly questionable as to what it is Jane is even thinking she's answering when she offers some random statements. It's acceptable enough, it seems, and the nurse bids her leave once more.

"Tug the handle again if you need anything else," the nurse instructs Liara.

"Thank you," she says as she watches the nurse go, before turning to Jane. That slight panic twists her stomach again upon meeting the clouded green eyes.

What is going to happen now? When does the pain start? The surgeons warned there would be, after a surgery like this. Perhaps the medication is still coursing through the IV? Liara admits she wasn't quite in the state to remember or listen to everything. Her heart plummets upon the slurred question.

"Who are you?" Jane inquires innocently.

...This is a joke, right? But the marine looks genuinely confused.

Not the first time she's done so to really sell her Goddess-damned jokes.

"Siame, please, I can't play games right now."

"What?" Jane blinks innocently. Lies, lies, lies. Must be. "No, really, who are you?"

"I..." Liara's brow furrows. "Liara T'Soni. Your..." Warmth collects under her cheeks. She can't quite say that yet. They aren't. "I'm your partner."

"Partner? What kind?"

"Siame please," Liara blushes. "Do not tease me."

"I'm not," Jane seems uncoordinated as she pushes herself up in her bed. "Like a lover-partner? I have a lover? You're my lover?"

Oh Goddess, this is every bit mortifying as it is. Liara's hand shoots out to clamp over the marine's mouth when her volume escalates. She flushes deeply, nodding with hesitation.

Silence. No reaction. Those dazed greens seem to be struggling just to focus on her. Then Jane angles her head away, her grin bursting to life. "No way. I have a lover? And that's you?"

Somehow, somewhere, mischief tempts to strike. "Yes," Liara chuckles serenely. "You even have a mother and father."

"What?! No way!" It backfires. Jane's eyes water. Within seconds, tears are pouring and she's garbling almost incoherently. "I have a mom and dad?!"

This revelation seems to be quite the stunning one to one who is heavily medicated. Liara leans back in her chair and momentarily ponders on whether she should record this on her omni-tool, or pretend it's never happened to spare her siame the embarrassment.

Oh, who is she kidding?

Revenge.

Liara makes no effort to mask her intentions as she engages her omni-tool and starts recording as the marine's mind is stuck on repeat, shattered by this phenomenal news apparently.

Her fun is cut short when Jane lulls, her tears slowing as her gaze seems to drift in the direction of her stumps. Liara's stomach kicks nervously, watching as she tries to deduce what the marine is thinking about based off her expressions alone. She stops recording and turns off her omni-tool, electing to scoot closer as she gingerly takes Jane's hand in her own. She winces a little from the abrupt action as the marine pulls the sheets off to the side with her free hand. Liara brings scarred knuckles to her lips and closes her eyes, struggling not to be shattered herself by the incoherent garble.

"I have all these amazing things, but why don't I have my legs?"

Frustration screams to roar out of Jane's chest, sweaty hands slipping on the bars adjacent to her sides as she struggles to make the prosthetics move with her. Agony burns at her knees. Her grip slips and she buckles forward into the waiting biotics of one of the physiotherapists.

"Perhaps we should take this to the water treadmill for today?" The one suggests.

"No," Jane stubbornly refuses. "I'm going to make them listen to me. I need them to."

"We also need to set you up for success, Miss Shepard," the second physiotherapist states. "You will not be able to-"

"I can!" Jane clenches her teeth, struggling, leaning back a little to try and find a balance and center of gravity so that she can wipe the beads of sweat trickling down into her eyes. Shame shrinks her. She can't bring herself to look over at Liara, who's watching from the sidelines on a bench. The marine needs to whip her ass in shape already. Riley would laugh and mock her right now, and be regretting he's invested anything into a failure of a marine like her.

She needs this to work already. She knows Liara is putting her own life on hold all over again. It's just like Elysium.

...How long until there's another Elysium? Another Torfan? What is the point of any of this?

Jane looks down at her titanium limbs, and nearly loses her balance for it. She feels the support of biotics pushing against her torso to keep her upright, and she puts her hand into her chalk pouch before spreading it over her palms. She grips the parallel bars, glaring at her feet. Her toes wiggle—and she catches on too slow. Her eyes squeeze shut and she buckles, barely suppressing a cry of agony as the phantom pain shoots through her, mocking her when she forces herself to open her eyes and stare at her 'toes'. She can't wiggle them. Her prosthetics are lumps of metal.

"You can do it," Liara calls out, though her voice is strained with concern. That loyal woman, always fighting against her nature to jump in to help. It must be killing her to watch this every day.

Jane needs this to work already.

She licks her dry lips and lifts her head, focusing forward. She mentally walks through every single step. Use her core. Stand tall like a tree. Dig in with her 'toes'. Breathe. Hip-width stance. Rotate her hips. Heel to toe. Slide her arm forward on the bar as she steps.

Know how to fall.

"Fuck," Jane growls as she feels the push of biotics against her, helping her find her midline again.

"Miss Shepard, maybe we should end it here for today?" The physiotherapist in front of her starts again. "You've made considerable progress, and-"

Jane furiously shakes her head. "I can do it. I know I can." Another step. She almost falls, but she leans back and finds her own midline this time. "I'll consider it progress when I can walk." She glares down at her titanium legs, cussing at the ghostly pains buzzing fiercely, lava licking her nerves. She forces herself to grin, to embrace the agony—for how fucking good it'll feel when she can stand in front of Riley and salute the N7 on equal footing, for how fucking amazing it'll feel when she can meet Liara's eyes rather than the asari always kneeling to be on her level.

"And I'll consider it progress when my feet get tired instead, when I become the fastest fucking runner Frankenstein's ever seen."