White-hot blinding agony eviscerates her even before she opens her eyes, and she cries out, hands flailing uselessly at herself, until she realizes where when she pushes herself up into sitting without conscious thought. Lukewarm vomit crashes at the base of her throat at the sight.

Her legs...

Her legs are gone.

Someone is yelling at her to shut up, and she sleuths cusses. Her hands are slapping at her thighs, in shock, in denial, in a desperation to feel something beyond knees that aren't there anymore. Belts are loosening. Belts are loosening. Fresh blood is pouring for it, and another set of hands wards hers away to tighten the tourniquets and keep her circulation cut off. She looks up, and her head immediately wrenches to the side to vomit at the sight.

"Yeah well you look ugly too," a pained chuckle slurs.

Half the N7's head is melted and just... Gone.

Jane can't bring herself to look—at herself or the N7. She squeezes her eyes shut, whispering under her breath that this is just a nightmare. Her heart tightens and another vicious wave recoils through her upon the blunt answer.

"Afraid not. At least we're alive, rookie."

Rookie. Rookie. Her eyes snap open, frantically looking around. She steels herself as she warily eyes the man lording over her, checking on her tourniquets as he helps prop her up a little more against a rock. She can't find Bennett though. They're... She doesn't remember where they were prior to the blast, but the camp looks farther now. She spots a lengthy blood trail, with dribbles beside what she assumes was her path. Did the N7 drag her all this way?

"Wh-where's Bennett?" Jane tentatively asks. Her heart sinks when the N7 drags a long breath, and procures a set of dog tags from a thigh compartment. She closes her eyes again and leans to hit her head back against the rock, hitting it over and over again until there's a crack in her helmet. She's stopped the second it feels like the casing buckles in, and the next blow is absorbed by a gauntlet cradling the back of her head.

"Trust me kid, you're disabled enough. Keep your brains or you won't be much use in this career."

"I'm no use at all anymore," Jane seethes hatefully, her eyes burning and welling up with tears. She rips her helmet off and cries out as she flings it aside, glaring at what's left of her legs. "I'll never get to serve again."

"Blessing, ain't it? Find something else to do with your life, then." The N7 huffs ungracefully as he dumps himself beside her, dragging his rifle over closer until it's cradled in his lap. "You ain't meant for this. You suck at it, frankly. Can't even command greens."

"Fuck you," Jane grumbles. She weakly thrusts her elbow to jab him in the side. "That's for calling me sweetheart, you fucking prick. Just fucking kill me now."

That this man can still find a reason to laugh is insanity. She balks at him in disgust when he chuckles again, before wiggling and gripping his jaw as he winces in pain. He sighs as he leans back against the rock. "That was to make you run faster. I could tell you were givin' out. You're alive and here now, ain't you? Too easy to figure out. Honey."

Another elbow. He chuckles again. He gently tosses his rifle over on her lap, giving a lazy gesture to the blighted plains ahead. "Go on. Look through the scope. Look at how many others are kissing dirt. You're alive, girl. You got a home to go to? Do you have someone waiting on you? Either way, you breathing is a hell of a lot more than what these sorry bastards have."

Jane grits her teeth, hissing as a new wave of pain ebbs and flows where her legs once were. She picks up the rifle with a desperation, the snake striking her simultaneously as her brain analyzes the marvels of N7 weaponry. She looks down through the scope, watching those in their last moments of their life as they struggle not to fade away. She aims at batarians in particular, switching the firing mode to semi as she braces the stock against her shoulder. She holds her breath and whimpers as burning agony shoots through her every single time she squeezes the trigger.

"What are you doing?" The N7 inquires idly, but makes no move to stop her. Then he hums. "Ah, finishing off the enemy. Why? They're dead soon anyways, too."

"Not giving them a chance to surrender and live," Jane answers in between strained breaths. She checks in on the camp, then plays with the scope's settings to zoom further in, adjusting the range. She sees some batarians on their knees and scoffs. "Like them."

"Mm," the N7 hums again. "Well, if you think you'll never serve again-"

"I know I'll never serve again. What the fuck is a marine without legs gonna do?"

"You can serve in the kitchen."

"...You're pretty ballsy considering I have a gun in my hands and plenty of pirates here to blame for your death."

"Heh! Yeah... Hey, don't mean nothing by it though, you hear? Just teasin' to rile you up some more." The N7 shrugs. "You think they'll let me serve anymore? My aim's scuffed. Can't stay steady and still all that long."

"Such a shame the part of the brain that lets you talk wasn't the bit blown away."

Raw laughter accompanies a series of pained winces and hisses. The N7 slumps a little more heavily against her. "Real shame, yeah, spitfire."

Silence envelops them. Jane looks down the scope as she aims at the batarians at the camp. Cowards line up on their knees, hands behind their heads, begging for their lives after taking as many as they could before testing the limits of mercy.

Unfortunately for them, she's never had any fucking mercy for them at all.

She holds her breath, and squeezes the trigger, taking aim hastily for the next batarian when the surviving marines panic as to where the shots are coming from. The batarians scatter, but she finds every single one of them—electing to shoot at their legs first so that they can think they might still have a chance to escape and live.

And then snuffs each of them out.

Her skin crawls when the N7 sighs, as if disappointed and dejected. "You're throwing your life away like this, kid. The laws and principles of-"

"Fuck that," Jane whispers frailly. "Fuck all of that. Look at them. Do you think they cared? Look what happened to your unit? To mine?"

The N7 falls quiet. She struggles when he suddenly grabs the rifle and tears it away from her.

And is shocked when he takes aim himself, firing at the last batarian spotted crawling.

Anger floods her at his hypocrisy, scowling when he casually looks over at her with a serene smile. "Why the f-"

"You still have a future." He makes a pointed gesture to her legs with his rifle. "I know you don't feel it, but the toughest bastards I've ever seen have still served even after losing all their fuckin' limbs. And hell, if you don't want to serve, then think about whoever's waiting on you and your safety right now. Don't throw all that away and get jailed by the Alliance over these dumb fuckin' laws." He stows the rifle on his other side, farthest away from her. "They've spotted us now. They'll come rescue us soon. I killed all those batarians, got it? I can get away with it as N7. You can't."

Jane's brow furrows in confusion, struggling to get a read on this man. He's such an asshole, but not. Or at least he's got really damn good reasons to be an asshole. And he's honorable. Kind of. Or not. Like now. Fucking hell. This is making her head hurt. Her heart weary. Her eyes ache as they swell. She sighs as her head lulls back on the rock, a powerful exhaustion rocking through her. In the distance, she feels a nudge against her shoulder, with frantic words that are... She's not sure.

"Shut up, asshole," she slurs to the N7. "You're too loud."

A harsher shake, and white-hot electricity courses from her toes up her spine. She lurches and cries out in pain, fresh tears bursting and rolling down her cheeks. Her hands absent-mindlessly go to claw at the tourniquets, but the N7 overpowers her as he jerks and cradles her hands over to him.

"Stay awake," he growls in her face, his grotesquely marred head dragging vomit up to pool in her mouth. "I'm not losing you too, you hear me?"

"Just let me die," Jane cries out pitifully, a hollow and overwhelming loss digging a trench in her chest as puke dribbles out down her chin. "I'm useless. I'll never get to serve ever again. I got my unit killed. Just kill me, please..."

"No."

Desperation guides her as she lunges over his lap to grab his rifle, but he knocks it away and cradles her against his chest, bear-hugging her and dragging her against him. The agony is too much as she feels what's left plop over his knees, her consciousness fading in and out. The distant sounds of a mako racing towards them are the last she hears, before the darkness takes her again.

Sterile lights and a white ceiling greet her when her eyes open next. A numb void has swallowed everything inside of her. She stares without thought. She can't bring herself to sit up and look around to confirm whether this is just a dream or reality.

Hope ignites upon being able to wiggle toes, and she shoots straight up at the sound of the hospital door hissing open, ready to jump right out of this bed and get right out there again.

That hope is snuffed out upon ripping the sheets off, and seeing little bandaged stumps around her thighs. Her eyes burn immediately with tears, her glare shooting up and snapping at the one who's intruded in her room.

Shame eviscerates her upon recognizing her parents.

"Fuck," she buries her head in her hands as they stride to close the distance, enveloping her in a bruising hug between the two of them. "This must be really bad if this is what it takes to finally get you two in the same room together."

A whimper escapes her pa as he stifles his sob in her greasy hair.

And she falls apart, reality cementing itself.

They've promoted her, for what it's worth. It sparks rage inside of her that even the stupid N7 swung by to congratulate her. He should've ended her misery and euthanized her. She doesn't care about the stupid promotion, and the empty medals pinned above her breast. She stares at her stumps, trapped in a wheelchair. She still feels her knees. It's impossible to ignore these sensations every time they strike, and all she can do is brace herself for the inevitable pain when instinct guides her to move her legs and wiggle her toes to stand up and run on out of here.

Muscle memory is the only thing that guides her to salute back to her superiors giving her another fucking pity promotion, just like Elysium. What does it matter anymore? She can't do anything. These medals? Not bringing anybody back. Bennett and Peterson... All they wanted to do was protect. They didn't want to kill anybody, anything. Misguided fools, yeah, for expecting they could get away with that mentality in a military, but still. They weren't ready to be out there on those fields. They shouldn't have been there.

They shouldn't have been brought to the batarian base. She may as well have been the judge and executioner herself, signing their death warrants when they followed her.

Still, if she ever sees Garcia's face again, she'll wring out his neck. If he didn't take the mako, if he didn't leave them behind... At least Bennett would still be here. At least that stupid N7 would have all his brains, for what little that was worth. Doesn't matter what motives he had to be calling her honey, and... And stuff. Still an asshole. Totally.

And at least she'd still have her legs.

But what if she stayed with the main army? From the reports, they suffered heavy casualties, and she would've just been among the body count. Major Kyle had been found from hiding, and honorably discharged from the Alliance. She didn't know why until dad let it slip that the Major was deeply traumatized by the catastrophic losses when he'd issued an order for all units to retaliate and press forward towards the enemy base in order to complete the mission. An order that cost too many lives. An order that was ultimately useless in the end, when the N7 succeeded in destroying the base and thereby forcing remaining batarians to surrender.

Deeply traumatized. She almost scoffs at it. Had the Major kept his cool and actually strategized rather than choking up in the face of the assault, things would've been different.

Wouldn't they?

But the Major is human. Mistakes happen. She'll be a hypocrite blaming him after what she did to her own unit. Actually strategizing could've saved them too.

But how does somebody like that become a Major to begin with? Dad's fucking grilled her saying she wasn't ready and all she was, was a Lieutenant-Commander. Nowhere near the level and rank to command an entire operation. Dad should've been grilling the Major instead.

Enough. The snake's poison is turning her bitter, and anger only makes her suffer. Nobody else.

How the hell is she supposed to look at these stumps and think anything else, though? Fuck...

Jane tries not to scream, containing the burst inside of her as a force subtly pushes her from behind, her wheelchair's wheels turning without her commandeering it. She's guided down a ramp. She can't bring herself to look at those lining up to salute her, of quietly expressing their condolences for her unit. She just wants to hide. Shame fills her, and she squeezes her eyes shut so that she doesn't fall apart crying in front of her superiors—but all she can see within her mind's eye are the eager Ensigns when she'd asked why they joined the Alliance.

She was like them, once.

"Let's get you out of here," dad soothingly whispers. "Get some food in your belly."

"I'm not hungry," Jane mumbles.

"You need to eat something, kiddo... It's been a couple days."

"I'm not hungry," she numbly parrots.

Dad sucks in a deep breath, sighing gently. "Okay." He clears his throat when they exit wherever the hell they are, and soon the small room and hallway expand into the giant station of Arcturus. "Your mother's still here on the station, I think for another week at least. Would you rather be with her?"

Jane worries her lip between teeth. "I'd rather be alone."

"Jane..."

"Please?"

"I... I can't. How about Miss T'S-"

Panic blooms and Jane's head whips over her shoulder, causing a painful kink in her neck. She looks up at dad and reaches over to squeeze his hand on one of the handles. "Dad, please. Don't tell her. I can't see her. This is going to hurt her—and I'm useless. She's going to see me for what I am and see how much of a burden I'm going to be now. It's better if you... What if you just send her a notice that I'm dead? It'll hurt less. It-"

"Jane." Dad reaches over to engage the brake on each wheel, before striding over and kneeling in front of her. His hands almost wander over to her stumps, before electing to grab the arm rests instead. "You're not a burden. You're not useless. You really think hearing that you are dead will hurt less for her?"

"Yes. And less shameful. At least this way I'll have died honorably in battle, for a good cause—like Bennett and Peterson. Right now I'm..."

Dad's brow furrows with concern, his eyes softening with empathy. He reaches up and brushes wayward bangs back, exposing her when she tries to bow her head to hide. "You're what?"

"I can't... I can't do anything anymore, dad. She'll look at me, and see nothing but some thing to take care of. It'll be worse than Elysium. I can't do that again. I can't put her through that again." Jane glares at her stumps, her fists balling up over her thighs. Willowy hands slip over hers to try and ease her grip, flattening her palms against her thighs instead. A shaky breath stutters out of her. "I can't even bend the knee for her. I was thinking of proposing to her, dad. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Do some fucking wheelies?"

A small chortle escapes dad and she looks up to give him a deadpan look.

"That wasn't actually supposed to be funny."

"N-no, I'm sorry. Just... I can still see you doing that," dad chuckles, leaning up to press his lips to Jane's forehead. For some reason his eyes look different, lit up even. He smiles warmly. "I really think you should give her a chance and have some faith in her, kiddo. You can't decide for her how she's going to react. Life is... Life is full of challenges and obstacles. There's no way you two will never face them, even if you still, you know." He smiles a little sheepishly, uncertain as he seems to try to figure out how to navigate this sensitive subject with Jane. He idly taps a thumb over her thigh. "Even if you still had your legs. Marriage isn't about a perfect life. It's about how you navigate those obstacles. I think you should take a shot. What have you got to lose?"

"Oh, I don't know. Her?"

"You were just suggesting that we send Miss T'Soni a letter of your demise."

"Yeah... Well...!" Jane crosses her arms with a huff, looking off in the distance as she watches marines march about the station. A sadness pervades her numbness. She'll never get to march again. She sighs as her eyes fall back to her thighs. "I don't even know how to travel like this anymore. I don't know how I'll move around in Armali. And she'll have to do all the driving now, and her apartment is... It's not built for..." Jane dumps her head in her hands. "This is going to be too much for her, dad. I can't just dump my problems on her like that. It's not fair to her. She didn't sign up for this relationship thinking she'll have to take care of some failure of a marine, and a disabled one at that."

"Why don't you ask her what she signed up for?" Dad asks it so plainly, it's as if he already knows the answer and it's so obvious.

And it's fucking infuriating.

Jane balks up at him. "What you're asking me to do is just plain selfish, dad."

"Don't you think you're deserving of it, after selfless service?"

"It wasn't... It wasn't selfless either." She clenches her teeth, jaw rippling. "If it was, Bennett and Peterson would still be here."

Dad sighs, his hands idly rubbing her thighs. "Their deaths weren't your fault, kiddo. You've always known the risks of being a marine. They did too, when they signed up. From the reports and what you told me, you didn't send them to their deaths on purpose. Even then that's... Well, I hate to say it, but sometimes that's still our duty. Being a leader isn't always about making flawless decisions. Sometimes it's about living with the decisions that you make."

All she wants to do is scream. She wants the matter dropped. She already knows that it doesn't matter what she says right now, dad is just going to be against her. She just... She just wants someone to listen instead. She wants to hate herself. Deserves to hate herself. She just doesn't want to fight anymore. She's exhausted. She buries her head in her hands to hide away from the world. Dad tentatively withdraws from her, unlocks the brakes, and begins to push her again.

This is what Liara will have to do, if Jane's arms tank. She can't do that to Liara. She can't be a burden. She's supposed to be the toughest marine ever alive, and the whole universe was supposed to know it.

Now she's nothing but a broken husk.

"Siame..."

It hurts. It hurts so much to hear her voice, to hear it shattered like that. Liara's struggling to be strong and calm, Jane can hear it. She can feel it in every soft and slow movement, the way the air tenses and shifts as the scientist approaches and kneels before her. Jane is supposed to be doing that. She's supposed to be kneeling. She's supposed to be doing all the things and whatever it takes to seal the deal to become that whole bond-mate thing.

Instead she's sitting here, hunched in embarrassment, confined to her wheelchair with some random marine on medical leave as her goddamn escort, because the Alliance denied her parents another week of shore leave to be here with her. They're needed to keep up the good fight while she atrophies away now, but... But even if she was able...

Jane hides her face in her hands, in shame. She can't stop seeing Bennett and Peterson. Their hopes and dreams were identical to hers when she was green. She still feels green. At what point are marines even considered experts when it comes to these bullshit wars and battles? Politics nullified the whole goddamn raid, with barely a mention in the reports before the media began sinking their teeth into scandals instead.

This is all useless. She is useless. She's just so tired of it all.

"I don't want to be a hero anymore," she confesses. "The cost is too much. I got my own unit killed this time, Liara." She shrinks and curls in on herself, shuddering when a tentative hand comes to rub her shoulder. "I'm not cut out for this. I can't be anymore, anyways. I'm just... I don't even know what to do with myself anymore. What am I supposed to do?"

It's terrifying as all hell, but she forces herself to lift her head, to meet those deep blue orbs that god fucking hell she fucking called it with how much pain is swimming in them now too.

"I don't know how to help you. I'm just going to cause troubles for you now. You're going to be twice as stressed as Elysium, and then even if you try to take care of me, then you'll suffer too just being my babysitter, and-"

Lips press softly to hers to cut her off. Salt laces the corner of her mouth, and Liara shifts forward to rest their foreheads together. She gives a small pitiful laugh.

"All this, and you're worried about me? Siame..." She drawls as if the marine's said something silly, shaking her head a little. "Siame, you must forgive me if I will worry about you. And I will. This... This is far more painful to you than it is me. That is what I am worried most of. We will figure everything else out. I know we will."

Jane knew Liara would. What in the hells is the marine supposed to do? It's not like she's able to build her own ramps and shit.

Liara rises to stand, turning to face the other stoic marine. "Thank you very much for keeping her company."

Heels snap at attention with a courteous salute. "No thanks necessary, ma'am. Just following orders."

Yeah. Better not disobey an admiral's orders. Jane's sure that's where this man has been sent from, even though he should be healing from his own injuries with how he's struggling to hold on despite his clear exhaustion. She can't bring herself to look at him in the eyes, but she gives him a salute too. When he marches off, she feels Liara's gaze comb over her. The problems are starting within her own brain, surely. She's beginning to realize how many obstacles there are ahead of them.

"Well?" Liara prods, turning a little to step off to the side. "Are you coming with me?"

Jane's head lifts, surprised and confused. Her hands fall on the outer rims of the wheels and her palms glide along, pushing herself forward. "Coming where? We won't be able to go to your place, like this."

"We won't? Why not?"

This... Is a joke, right? Jane makes a pointed look down at the wheelchair, before a deadpan look up at the scientist. For someone so smart, she can really be oblivious sometimes.

"Uh... Well for starters... There are a ton of stairs?" Jane offers hesitantly, wondering if she's damning herself, and also deeply concerned if she's shell-shocked Liara with this revelation.

And then she's certain the asari is off her rocker when she laughs.

"Siame." She makes a show of twisting her hand upwards, smiling, though subdued. "I have biotics, remember?"

"O...Oh... Well yeah, but I can't make you just lift my ass everywhere. That's going to get annoying, and-"

"Contrary, I have very fond memories of lifting you," a devilish smirk tugs the corner of lips. "Remember the tub?"

"Well yeah okay, but that doesn't count and-"

"Oh? Why not?"

Jane's brow furrows. She observes her lover, trying to get to the bottom of what's really going on here. This is too smooth of a transition to just accept what's happened. Right? This just isn't humanly possible, or... Or asari-ly possible. Whatever. Point is: it's impossible. There's more than meets the eye here. She feels it. It's still rippling through the air. Liara is off. She's doing the Elysium thing already, isn't she? She's accommodating. Putting up a front. Trying to be easy breezy so that the marine doesn't slip into doom and gloom mode over something that most certainly is something to be doomy and gloomy about.

...Right?

"You're confusing the hell out of me," Jane mumbles idly. She's stuck in both awe and trepidation over this strength in her partner.

This unconditional support, this resolve to stick by her side through the worst moments of her life. And the realization nestles in. She knows it. She knows Liara's knowing it. Their eyes grow sheen, and instinct reaches out as Jane holds out her hands.

"Come here, please," she whispers, the words fading to the rasp cloaking her voice.

There's an immeasurable shame, of which that won't disappear so easily—but there's an immeasurable sense of relief too.

All that doom and gloom she speculated, that Liara would leave her, see her as less than the sum of her parts, it hasn't come to pass. Not immediately, anyways, but Jane stifles that voice in her head for now. Tries to. She just wants something good right now. Comfort washes over her when Liara deduces what's wanted, or maybe she's been wanting it too, leaning over and cradling Jane's jaw to kiss her.

And then breaks it when a new realization strikes her.

"Fuck, I never asked for that N7's name. How am I supposed to thank that asshole now?"

Liara blinks in bewilderment. "I'm... Afraid I'm not quite sure how to interpret how you feel about whomever you're referring to."

Jane grins. "He's a prick. No doubt about it. And I still won't hesitate to punch him if I ever see him again... But he's the reason why my stubborn ass is here. He's the real hero of Torfan."

Navigating the apartment is proving troublesome after all, and Jane knows that Liara is being too damn stubborn to admit it. The bathroom is upstairs, which means stairs. At this rate, Liara will have to stay chained to Jane and sacrifice her own career just to take care of her. There's got to be other solutions.

The snake is whispering many.

After transferring herself over to the couch, Jane lays down and lifts her rear a little to give it a break from all the pressure of sitting. She decides to shimmy over and roll on her stomach instead, wincing and hissing a little when the movements tug on the socks of her stumps and chafes the sensitive scars. She tries to derail her mind the moment she feels knees.

"Liara, love, there's no way I'm doing this to you and you know it. Tomorrow I'll start searching on the terminal to see if there are any places I can move into, and-"

"This is your home too and we can change it here," Liara argues from what sounds like the kitchen. "Siame, please, stop thinking you are a burden to me. You are not."

"I know that I am."

"Well I know with just as much certainty that you are not. I would know my own emotions best."

"Yeah, but you're stubborn and selfless as hell. You always put yourself last for me."

A coy hum. "Someone's describing themselves very accurately."

"Stop that!" Jane laughs, tossing one of the pillows in a fruitless attempt to try to reach the kitchen. She burrows her nose in the cushion when a wave of nausea recoils through her over the promising smells of food, but her stomach twists in agony. She still doesn't have an appetite, and yet she does. Her muscles ache with a weakness, a clutching of her very bones. She tries to power on through it. She doesn't want to puke, and if she does, then Liara will have to clean it up, and she'll be offended that Jane's even vomiting over food that the sweet scientist is preparing for them.

And, and, and... The snake will never rest.

The sounds shut off, all of a sudden. She takes a risk and lifts her head, noticing that the smells have weakened too. Her neck kinks and twinges a bit when she hears quiet footsteps approach, looking up at Liara, who comes and leans against the door frame. The scientist looks so sad. Her posture shifts, and it's as if she's scared when she comes over to kneel by the couch. Jane reluctantly turns on her side and braces herself for the inevitable, for that moment the snake can say called it!

A soft hand roves over to caress her cheek. "My biggest fear has always been this, siame."

Called it, called it, called it.

"That you pay a cost you perceive so dearly, it warps your very spirit." Liara balances on the balls of her feet as she leans in, planting a sweet kiss on the nose before pulling back with a melancholic smile. "That it shatters your belief in yourself, and it does not matter if others still believe in you. I do not know how to restore that. I am terrified that it cannot be restored."

Jane's forehead creases in confusion, trying to process what this fear actually entails—or how it can be fixed, so that Liara doesn't have to worry.

But the marine is at a loss, too.

"I realize this is a... Fundamental change," Liara speaks slowly, seemingly struggling with her choice of words. She glances off to the side, at the stumps. "I do not mean to belittle what you are going through, but at the same time, I want you to know." Her gaze snaps back to Jane's. "You still mean everything to me, Jane. I do not see you as any lesser than who you are, because of what you are missing." She manages a meek smile. "I did not fall in love with your legs."

"But they were smokin' hot when I had them, right?" Jane deflects in a poor attempt at humor, to stall the new inevitable. Her heart twists before it swells when Liara laughs a little, leaning for another kiss.

"I am here for today, and tomorrow," Liara assures, etching her promise in every inch of skin as she gently pushes Jane to lay on her back, trailing feather-light touches of her lips down the marine's neck. "I am here for all of our tomorrows."

One of her hand slips underneath Jane's shirt, but is stopped promptly. She looks away, at the wall of the couch, in embarrassment. Even if Liara doesn't see her as lesser, she... Still does. A ball forms in the marine's throat. Her eyes sting, and she squeezes them tightly shut. Her hoarse voice struggles to remain without the words fading out on her.

"I don't deserve to be loved by you. I'm just... I'm such an ugly person, Liara. Inside, mostly. I was so... With the batarians I..." She sighs, surrendering. "I'm still angry about Elysium. If I still can't recover from that, after everything... You're right to fear. I don't think I can restore what's been lost. You're so compassionate, and patient, and here I am, still hateful as ever."

"You have been ready to move on, siame. You have wanted to close the chapter on Elysium."

"And then I opened it right back up on Torfan." Jane chews away on her bottom lip in anxiety, a new level of vulnerability exposing her as she looks down, lifting her stumps as much as possible. "I think this is karma, honestly. A fitting fate for me." She gambles and glances over at Liara, analyzing how stumped the scientist appears. She smiles small, looking back as she relaxes her legs. "I know you're trying to think of what to say to comfort me, but... I think it's important to admit the truth more. Isn't that what you're actually terrified of, love? Of what's actually warping my 'spirit'?"

Another look. Liara looks hesitant, but guilty. Her eyes flicker off to the side as she slightly bows her head. An admission in silence of itself.

Jane sighs. She leans her head back as she closes her eyes. "I don't blame you for fearing it. I would too, if you suddenly found something you had such an intense hatred for, and it was all you could talk about. I must've already been driving you crazy with how much I talk about batarians all the time." She gives a small helpless shrug. "I just wish I had answers, Liara. I want to move on. I don't want to be consumed by that either. I guess I'll finally have that luxury to now, without facing slavers and pirates everyday." Her voice falls to a hush, her own anxieties alight. "What am I really supposed to do now, Liara? I can't serve anymore. Factually, I really am useless."

"You're more than your legs," Liara defends. "You may not believe in yourself, but you are intelligent, Jane."

A disbelieving snort skips out of the marine. She gives a small smile when an expectant hand threads into her hair and gently guides her to look at the scientist.

"Just because you do not study archaeology and know an exorbitant amount of obsolete knowledge that cannot truly be applied to present life, does not mean you are less intelligent than I am, Jane. You and I are different in our strengths in that regard. All I specialize in are the Protheans. I would be lost, otherwise. You? You are able to apply yourself to many different fields because of your skills and tenacity." She slips a finger over Jane's lips, fully calling it that the marine is ready to argue that point. "Who is to say you are no longer able to serve the Alliance, anyways? Have they discharged you? Have they made it something you truly cannot pursue other paths?"

"W-well..." Jane angles her head a little until the finger slips away to let her answer. "No... There are programs in place for marines like me, I suppose."

"Then? Who is actually stopping you? Besides yourself."

"Nobody. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"...Nobody." Jane looks away. "They're not gonna be chucking me on the frontlines. What am I gonna do in a wheelchair, Liara? A drive-by shooting?"

A small chortle. The marine gives a deadpan look, but her mouth has a mind of it's own as it explodes in a proud grin.

"God damn, you're like my dad. That wasn't actually supposed to be funny!"

"S-sorry. Just... The imagery... I can still see it. It's so you." Liara's smile grows, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. "I know you, Jane, and it is one of many reasons why it is so easy to fall for you every single day. You're not one to give up. You never have. You'll never let anything keep you down, or tell you what you can or can't do. You have always been the one that determines that. I am sure there are still many other wonderful things you can pursue, and figure out your definition of what it means to be a marine."

But did Jane really want to be one, anymore? She's back to square one. She doesn't want to be a hero. She doesn't feel like she is one, nor that she can be one. She failed the people of Elysium. She failed her own unit. That asshole of an N7 was the one that saved her ass, and the one to pull her thick head over onto the side of hey let's try this living thing rather than succumb to despair. Even he believed she could be of use still. That's got to mean something, coming from an N7, right?

He still deserves a punch, by the way.

...And maybe a hug after that, too. A salute if she's feeling particularly generous to respect that arse.

But he's still moving. He still was, even with the loss of his own unit. He seemed to be surprisingly attached in not wanting to lose her too, from what she remembers—unless it's just a figment of her imagination and a concoction of ego.

She's lost, staring into Liara's hopeful eyes. They swim with pain and fear, but also with that ever-ready rock-steady resolution to always keep moving forward. The asari gives Jane far too much credit for something she is the progenitor of. She's the one that doesn't give up. She's the one that admits and faces her fears, but plays it all off like it's easy breezy and this is no big deal to tackle. The loss of legs isn't a big deal to Liara. In hindsight, it's something that could be seen as offensive, but... But Jane finds relief in it. She's more than her legs. The challenges that come from without them can be solved. It's not the end of the world. It's not the end of her life. It's not the end of their love either.

All the things she has feared is coming to pass right by her, as if it's nothing to be scared of at all. She stares in awe, then, and her eyes well with tears. She chuckles when Liara panics over it, reaching to cradle the asari's head and sitting up in a crunch to pull in for a kiss.

"I love you so much," Jane breathes with reverence. "I can't promise all this junk in my head will disappear overnight, love, but what I can promise is I'm going to fight like hell to get rid of it. I want to be the woman you think I am."

"You are the woman I think you are."

"Eh..."

Liara gives a pointed look, but then gives a brief kiss before she pulls back. "I'll concede, for now, since you've promised you'll fight. Though I feel compelled to point out that I wouldn't think you are the woman I think you are, if I didn't know that you are the woman I think you are."

"Right, love, you definitely win right now, I'm too tired for a battle of wits," Jane chuckles. She pushes up on her elbows, her gaze falling on her stumps. She still feels a host of emotions, of shame, of grief over her inability to command. She is a rookie still. She has so much to learn. It feels like it's impossible—or rather too late now—to learn how to be better, but... Well. She hasn't looked into everything the Alliance has to offer. Mom mentioned that there are programs out there, she'll know more about what Jane can still do to contribute.

And keep herself busy, so that she doesn't go mental with all these destructive thoughts.

Comfort seeps into her skin the moment a pair of lips touch her neck, caressing over her pulse. This familiarity will never go away. These emotions keep growing stronger, it's terrifying almost. But the resilience and fearlessness that Liara is is a sight to behold, something to aspire to. Jane melts and kisses back with a little more urgency when lips lock with hers, whispering in between breaths.

"A year from now?"