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9-16-2185
[ UNKNOWN LOCATION ]
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John was drifting.
Trapped.
Engulfed.
It was a nebulous place, untethered from time and memory.
It was as if he were suspended. Suspended in the echoes of an eternal dream. A dream where he couldn't recall how long he'd been trapped in this intangible purgatory. Only that it felt like a lifetime. The rare dreams he could remember often slipped away. Silt through fingers. Fragments of an unfinished puzzle.
Pain too. He always felt it. A familiar friend now, its roots felt depthless. Cemented and fused within what remained of his soul, it stayed only as a gentle ache in his heart. Like a knot of soft agony, twisting and coiling his stomach. A type of burn that often steeped and warmed his lungs.
But something changed.
What was its usual calming torment grew in its intensity. A ferocious crescendo of torture that mandated a scream. But he was bound. Silenced and shackled.
But even that gave way and he felt his consciousness ascend. A dead soul pulled from the depths of an oceanic void, he was hoisted to existence.
Voices. They grew in clarity. They sharpened to focus, pulling him toward wakefulness. He had eyes. He struggled to open them, and the effort invited hellishly white light.
The pain after was unimaginable.
What he saw in the reflection of the reflective glass hovering over his bubble was a broken and mangled cadaver that composed him.
He tried to scream again, and his pain was given voice. But his brittle throat ruptured, muting him into a wet and blood-soaked gurgle.
Inconceivable torture against a disfigured and immobile man.
Then, through the haze of torment, a sinister voice coiled around his mind like a serpent.
Saren.
Eyes that howled death, words dripping with the authority of Sovereign. It was all but a whisper in his ear.
"Welcome 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 to the living," they intoned, a symphony of two.
A pathetic and desperate wail, blood flecking the glass above him.
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ㅤ ㅤSmell
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Then it stopped.
Hell ceased.
Existence simmered away.
And John drowned back to nothingness.
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9-17-2185
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There wasn't much to pack.
A duffel of belongings, Tali set it down by her open drape, next to Olasie, and offered a small smile.
"Wish I could tag along." Olasie started.
"I wish you could too." She said with a sigh. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
A sudden and unexpected call forcing Tali to look down. She frowned slightly reading the caller ID.
"Who is it?" Olasie asked, trying to peer.
"…Garrus."
"Your old friend?"
She exchanged a shifty glance toward Olasie before biting a lip and accepting it.
"...Garrus?"
"Tali. Hey." There was a sizable pause and it was because Garrus was staring out at the neon-drenched microcosm below him. "...How are you?"
"About as well as one can imagine." Was her honest answer. Again, her stare met Olasie's for a tepid moment. "...Why'd you call?"
"To give you an update." Garrus answered, sitting uncomfortably on his ledge. The large holo-screen above glowed a hazy and smog-ridden crimson, bathing him from the rooftop he'd been waiting upon. The squalor of Omega's citizens below were mucking about their subsistence, perpetual darkness pressing down on them like it always was.
"And?"
"Liara has business at the Citadel. Coincidentally during the same time as you."
"...Did you tell her I'll be there?"
"No. She only told me through email. Didn't reply."
"Email?" She tossed up a frown, "What do you mean?"
"I don't keep in touch with her much anymore." Garrus answered somewhat truthfully, staring further out to the distance toward Omega's polluted atmosphere and the omni-present stench of chemical runoff. 'Rain', or what felt like rain, fell in sporadic, oily droplets—an unnatural precipitation from the byproduct of Omega's atmospheric processing plants. Decades overdue in replacing their filters with something adequately rated to clean the air, they had long since failed to sift out the toxic output from the industries that made their home here.
The result was a near-constant drizzle of chemical-laden moisture, hissing as it hit the heated vents scattered over every roof in the city. Steam rose in ghostly tendrils, carrying with it the metallic tang of element zero and other, less identifiable, substances.
A momentary glimpse had him wondering how much the air was slowly killing everyone here. Or turning folks into biotics. A combination of both probably. Who knew.
"I thought you were still together."
"No." He interjected. "She went off to do her own thing. I haven't been in the loop of her pursuits since."
"What is she doing?"
"I told you," He murmured, "I don't know." That last part was a lie. He knew enough to make him shut his eyes at having to withhold the truth of the matter from her.
"...Not even vaguely?"
"She's an information broker now. That's about the limitation of my knowledge."
Tali found that interesting. Pivoting an entire career of archeology and suddenly becoming one of those?
Huh.
"...Okay." Tali gave a proverbial shrug by her tone alone, "Well. Anything else?"
"Nope."
"What about you?" She pressed, "How're you?"
"Oh," Garrus' stare fell to the grim-riddled puddles reflecting a kaleidoscope of refracting lights along the street he'd been watching over, "Found a job on Omega. You know. Tidying. Uhm. Cleaning house."
"You're killing people—"
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ"—I'm killing people." He said with her, dropping the stupid charade instantly.
"Well." She said with a quiet huff of breath, "Be careful."
"I'll try."
"Goodbye, Garrus."
"Don't be a stranger."
The call ended and, wordlessly, Tali scooped up her duffel and shouldered it.
"Where's Juel?" She asked simply, electing to shelve the conversation she just had for now.
"Down in C-2. Already with the pilgrims."
"Walk with me?"
"Of course."
The two walked. Silence reigned between them for a minute or so.
"It's really nice what you're doing for Juel."
"He needs an arm." Tali said with a shrug.
"Don't do anything crazy out there."
The thought of Juel's vendetta crossed her mind and she pushed it wayward. She missed a beat, but thankfully, it wasn't out of place.
"…I'll try."
"Good. And make sure he texts me. And Enyah."
"I will." A small grin surfaced at Olasie's transparency. The woman cared for him. Whether or not that pushed the boundaries of something more than affection, Tali couldn't rightly say. She assumed it was more. Though she wondered if Olasie was even self-aware of it.
"Okay."
They arrived and gandered at what amounted to a space bus. Relatively new, this sixty-year-old space-liner sat parked in the Neema's bay with a line of the fleet's newest pilgrims ready for embarkation. Among them was Juel, already waving them over with the only hand he had.
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9-24-2185
[ SERPENT NEBULA | CITADEL | PRESIDIUM ]
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The Citadel.
It hung in space, bathed in the soft, angelic glow of the Serpent nebula's lavender light. A sight graced by billions of eyes, leaving countless more awestruck.
His only hand pressed against the glass of the viewport, Juel stared at its magnificence with Tali close by.
"…Been a long time."
She didn't say anything, but inwardly, she agreed. The rehash may not have been as long as it was for Juel, but the sight was, if it had meant anything, nostalgic.
It dominated their view now. Five wards held together by its ringed foundation blossoming out like a metallic flower.
In place of where awe should've been was, miserably, bitterness. That's what finally settled in her heart seeing it all. For all its grandeur, its symbol of unity was marred by exclusion and the pain of all the bad that had happened here.
"When was the last time you were here?" She asked.
"Pilgrimage. It was my first stop." His face never left the window, Zakera now swelling their entire view. "Never thought I'd see it again, honestly."
"Surprise." She said with a sad smile, glancing at his pinned sleeve.
A laugh hardly escaped him. He turned away and sat, Tali taking her turn to peer at the stream of air cars filtering through the space between buildings.
Her back facing him, he ran a hand along his arm until it met its premature end. "How're you feeling?"
Her eyes were withheld to the passing city. "I feel like I should be asking you that."
"I'm okay." He answered, "Let's see how I hold up after we go through customs."
"Don't worry," she intoned with her small and sad smile, "I pulled a favor from John's old captain. C-Sec shouldn't give us too much trouble. We'll need to stop by and say hi to him though."
"Pays to have friends, doesn't it?"
Tali's mood withered when she thought of Liara. "I suppose it does."
Hand now mindlessly playing with the hollow fabric at his stump, he settled himself even deeper into the chair.
"Got any plans in mind during my consult?"
"Not really, no. I'll just stay at the hotel. Get room service maybe. Take a stroll to kill time when browsing the extranet gets boring."
"Fun."
A shrug before finally turning away from the view and sitting next to him. "Fun enough."
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Eyes closed and hands in a tight mesh, David Anderson's elbows were set over the table so he could press both his thumbs against the bridge of his nose.
The life of a councilor was not glamorous. A well-built façade constructed around a veneer of luxury. The opulence of fine dining, the tailored suits, the grand offices and their sweeping views—all of it a gilded cage masking the grind that wore down a man of his nature.
Here, everything was both quick and slow. Grueling processes that wasted more steam than energy. He supposed there were a lot of aspects to the military that you could draw comparisons from. They were often more closely linked than anyone cared to admit.
Regardless, Anderson, for the past year or so, felt like he'd been running on fumes.
He wanted to retire. This wasn't what he had envisioned after a lifelong career in the military. In the twilight of his years, he imagined something vastly different.
He imagined Bonnington. A small and unassuming town tucked away in the rolling hills of the English countryside, where time moved at its own deliberate pace. A world unto itself where the concerns and frenetic motion of the galaxy could not intrude.
The details of his imagination and memory really were exquisite in their clarity.
The narrow lanes lined with ancient stone walls, ivy clinging like a second skin. The cottages, timeless as they were beautiful, were surrounded by gardens, where the roses bloomed in wild profusion, their colors so vivid they seemed to glow against the lush green of the surrounding fields.
A particular spot he remembered as a child was a secluded glen on the outskirts.
Dappled sunlight filtering through a canopy of oak leaves over clear streams, its path meandering around and over stone worn smooth by centuries of flow.
It was where he had dreamed of finally finding peace. Where he could reclaim the simple joys of life. Where he could be all but a simple man named David living out the last of his days in quiet harmony with the small world around him.
Reality bled back when he opened his eyes to the flare of the presidium, the daydreaming gone as soon as it had so often come.
What ailed him so?
Well—the same issue since his inauguration as a councilman. The mass exodus of the Citadel's inhabitants.
Even now, two years later, the geth attack had shattered the people's illusion of invulnerability. The Citadel, to many, stood as a beacon of safety and security. It was supposed to be impregnable.
The geth had proven otherwise. The psychological impact of that realization was far more damaging than any one bomb could do.
Heart of the galaxy or not, if their citizens continued leaving, it wouldn't just be a matter of losing population. The economic implications alone were worrying. Businesses were closing their doors, investments were drying up, and trade being rerouted. The Citadel's status was as brittle as it had been since the krogan rebellions and the problem only appeared to be worsening.
Before he could think more on the issue, his phone's intercom sputtered before Joanne, his secretary, spoke.
"Councilor, your visitors have arrived."
"Who now?"
"Two… quarians?"
Ah. Right. Tali.
"Let them in." He said with a gruff sigh, straightening his coat with a tug. A quiet swoosh and then two pairs of footsteps.
What he saw was a man missing half his arm and a woman undoubtedly Tali'Zorah. She looked different, but the clothes unmistakably hers.
"Captain." Tali greeted with a title she found more respectable while foregoing a handshake and giving the man a hug, "It's been a long time. It's so good to see you."
"Likewise, Tali." He said after holding her out and smiling. "My, you've gotten quite the glow up."
"Ha. Thanks."
"And who might this be?"
"Juel'Kaan." Juel greeted before offering a hand to shake.
"A pleasure." He accepted, "David Anderson."
They all took their seats at his desk.
"It really has been a while. Two years, has it? Around there? How you holding up?"
A subtle, but imperceptible glance sideways, hands lightly grasping knees hidden under the lip of his desk.
"I'm okay." She said, forcing a smile, hoping it would better color her tone, "…And you? How's the new job treating you?" Tali wondered.
"Oh." He scratched his nose, though it was theatrical. "It's, frankly, grinding me to dust."
"I wouldn't want anyone else here doing it but you."
"Thank you, my dear. I'm doing as best I can. It's difficult, but I'll manage. Life treating you well?"
"It's been okay. Pretty mundane by comparison since—you know." She paused with a shrug, "Fleet life is fleet life."
"I hear that. Liara said as much. At least with her side of things."
Tali rose a brow.
"She visited?"
"Not an hour ago. I assumed you two were together." Judging by the way she looked, he sensed he was wrong. "…no?"
"No. That would be entirely a coincidence."
"Well. What an opportunity. Maybe we can all have dinner sometime since you're all here. How's that sound?"
"I think that's a great idea."
His phone went off again and he had to withhold a grumble. A quick hand to excuse himself, he pressed a button to accept it.
"Yes?"
"An urgent matter has developed, councilor." Joann said, "You're being asked to convene."
Eyes that lost a little more soul. "Understood. Thank you."
He spun in his chair and stood to get a view of his balcony before giving a slight sway of his hand off to the street below to show them where his recent visitor went off to.
"...Liara said she was going to the SouthStar for coffee and work. If you're quick, you might be able to catch her."
"Let me know when you're free." Tali said, standing.
A small and parting smile from him.
"Be well, Tali."
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A cup of coffee. Beside it, an untouched pastry with a lilliputian pitcher for creamer and packets of sugar to keep Liara company while she perused through email on a tablet.
Soft music accompanying the congregants of SouthStar, the woman glimpsed momentarily to the effects within her purse before gazing, again, for the umpteenth time, toward Anderson's office across the street a floor above.
This wasn't entirely a coincidence, being here when Tali was. Garrus, in all his bluntness, told her upfront weeks ago to intercept the woman to get a gauge on her health since her complete departure from the Citadel years ago.
Begrudgingly, she agreed to do so.
It was a good opportunity, she supposed, to see how Tali had been faring.
A conservative pour of cream. A measured sprinkle of sugar.
She stirred, porcelain and metal clinking, eyes back to see Tali and a man of her own ilk, (Juel, she gathered based on Garrus' information), making their way down the stairs to Presidium's commons.
She looked different. Liara, in retrospect, figured that was a good thing. Change was the province of the living, after all.
They stopped at the base of the stairs before having a conversation muted by distance. Eventually, they went peering toward the café she'd been patronizing before making their way over.
Anderson clearly told them where she was.
Coldness suddenly drenched Liara's heart, fleeting but potent. She wondered momentarily if meeting her was spelling disaster.
There was so much she knew that Tali didn't. The breadcrumbs she'd scattered about John to her was one too many, she had long realized.
It all felt harmless then. She had soon come to regret doing that altogether.
Regardless, she was stuck now. Trapped in a hole by her own doing. She could tell Tali. Tell her he was being brought back. It seemed so simple.
But was it?
That truth of the matter was balanced on a blade. Teetering somewhere between salvation and damnation. Whatever peace Tali had found, if she found it, wasn't worth upending.
Yet, not telling her felt equally as wrong. Ignorance was not always bliss.
She ran a course of hypotheticals and picked the path she hadn't committed to. She envisioned the spark of joy in Tali's eyes, quickly followed by confusion, then anger.
How would Tali process the knowledge that Cerberus, with their newly minted aggression toward the Migrant Fleet with their recent stunt, held the reins of Shepard's fate? And that it was her who had facilitated his transfer into their possession?
A hard-handed dichotomy she'd been the sole architect of. Of the two, she believed lying was less cruel.
She hoped she had chosen right.
A chagrin wince and an acerbic slip of a not so happy smile actually reached Liara's lip.
Maybe that's what Garrus wanted. Maybe that's why he convinced her to go. For her to slip up and just admit what was going on.
The look was gone as soon as it had come. That wasn't going to happen. Someday Tali would know. Perhaps when John was alive and well. But not now. And especially if he never woke.
The two passed through the SouthStar's wide bifold doors, Tali's eyes scanning the patrons before finally landing on Liara.
A quick glance to Juel to tell him to find something to drink at the bar, she approached Liara and sat across from her.
It was a wordless exchange for a moment before Tali finally found it in her to speak.
"Liara."
"Tali."
"Garrus told me you were going to be here." Another dreg of a moment. "…Wasn't expecting to run into you like this."
"A happy coincidence." Liara said, forcing a smile. She was unsure of what else to say. Whatever exuded from Tali was not happiness.
"Tell me."
The smile shriveled to nothingness and Liara, on impulse, tilted her head to show her lack of understanding.
"You know what I'm talking about." Tali pressed, "I want to know more about what Lazarus is."
A shifty stare from Liara as she stared into each of Tali's pupils.
"—Is it about John?"
The mug in front of Liara took her immediate interest. "No. Not exactly."
"Are you lying?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
"Nothing important anymore."
"What were you doing with Garrus all those months after then?"
"Benefactor hunting." Liara said, channeling Tali's curiosity in a way she hoped would abate it. "Lazarus was a codeword to try and rebirth everything the Normandy was trying to do to prepare against the reapers. So, I suppose, in a sense, it did involve John. At least his image."
"Then what?"
"It didn't fall through like we planned. The benefactor had…" A sideways stare, "…ties to Supremacy groups."
"...Cerberus?"
Liara could feel herself falling deeper into the hole she was digging with her lies. "No."
"…I see."
"I'm sorry for it being so cryptic. I wanted to keep you in the loop without divulging too much."
Tali visibly relaxed, back meeting the lumbar of her chair, stare finally faltering at the revelation.
She didn't know what to make of that information. The back-minded obsession she had over it all deflated in an instant.
She blinked, hands meeting each other now.
"…Garrus told me you're an information broker now."
"Odd, I know." Liara managed a light laugh and thanked the universe Tali was leading the conversation elsewhere, "But you know me. I've always been pretty organized with my things. The skill translates very well in that sphere."
"What led you there?"
"Our mission hasn't stopped simply because John is gone. That's been my focus since."
"I wish I could say I've been as proactive as you."
"Surely you've done something."
A bit lip that turned into a frown. "The Admiralty knows about the reapers. There's that. I guess."
"Is that not an accomplishment?" Liara admonished, reaching out to touch hands, "Tali. Don't sell yourself so short."
She let in some air with a giant puff, shoulders rising to signal she wanted to pivot the topic again, "So. Tell me more about this information broker business. Is it as glamorous as it sounds?"
"Absolutely not. Late nights in your underwear with wine connecting dots shouldn't be romanticized."
A small smile surfaced and Tali's mood lightened, if only a little.
"Where do you do business?"
"Illium."
"Fancy."
"It is." Liara agreed somewhat, "Hot. But fancy."
Tali stared out through the window toward the greenery and the artificial sunlight peeking through. "Think I could use your services?"
"Wh—I…" Visibly confused, Liara was surprised Tali would have requested that from her. "—of course."
"Juel, my friend, is looking for someone."
"Who?"
"A quarian woman. Serah'Meyann. She was kidnapped almost five years ago. I don't… suppose you would have the resources to find her, would you?"
"That's… going to be difficult given the time frame, but I can put feelers out. Anything else you can tell me?"
"She was taken from by a slaver or pirate, we're not sure. But his name was Captain Jolak. A human."
"Do you have a description of what he looked like maybe?"
Tali paused and looked over her shoulder to see Juel sipping away and keeping his attention focused entirely on the large screen hovering over the bar.
"Juel." Tali called over a private channel, "Come here."
"Coming."
He set his cup down and approached.
"Juel," Tali said, opening a hand to formally greet Liara, "This is Liara T'soni. She was with me through it all including Ullipses."
"I've heard much about you, ma'am."
"All of it good?" Liara said, offering a hand to which he took and shook.
"All of it." He said, eyes crinkling from his earnest smile.
"Liara said she'd help. She'll try to find out what happened to Serah."
A glance between both of them and a hard swallow. "Thank you."
"I can't promise anything. But I'll do my best. I'll need information to begin my search. Do you have a picture or description of this man?"
"Can I droplink that to you?"
She nodded and he sent it. Receiving the information, she had her VI run through her databanks and was surprised to see a positive match.
"I… actually have something for you right now. My sources say, if they're not mistaken, that Jolak was merely an alias. He ran over a dozen identities. Captain Jolak's real name was Arthur Newman."
"Was? Is he dead?"
"Yes. Been dead." Liara answered as she brought up the man in question, "His vessel scuttled on final when attempting to dock on Omega. All hands lost in the explosion. This was in 2457. So, five years ago."
She read deeper and pursed her lip. "The recovered black box reveals an intentional reactor overload and a message."
"What does the message say?"
"It was… spoken in khellish. By a woman." Liara felt her skin crawl. "It says: 'I'm sorry, my love.'"
His entire pilgrimage had netted him nothing in his search for her. But here it was. An answer over coffee. A little over half a decade later.
All this time wondering and he finally knew. He thought he'd known how to accept it. Either way, death or slave, he thought he could handle it.
Silence, save for the common's ambience, two women watching him as he felt the room spin.
"…I'm so sorry." Liara murmured, stricken.
Truly, in the most intimate sense, he felt alone, and the galaxy felt colder and emptier than it ever had before.
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𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆.
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Eight days later.
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10-2-2185
[ SERPENT NEBULA | CITADEL | KITHOI WARD | GARALAND SEASONS | 4TH FLOOR | 4-18 ]
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Paid in full.
At the end of it all, Juel's new cybernetic prosthesis had set Tali back 196,230.506 credits. The next week or so would be him spending every waking moment learning how to use it.
Exiting from the hospital's patient portal, she let out a long and weary sigh.
At a dining table that stretched long enough to house nearly twelve people, she settled deeper into her wooden chair—or as much as one could settle into something so unyieldingly upright—and propped her head on a hand, elbow resting heavily on the armrest.
"What's wrong?" Liara asked from her spot on the sofa that wasn't too far away from the living room.
"Nothing," Tali answered a touch too quick, a touch too dismissive. She glanced at the vid being used for background noise before drawing her gaze back to the daunting number on her computer. "…Just thinking."
Liara held her stare, waiting for her to say more.
Mind swirling with thoughts hardly worth voicing, Tali opened up a hand, only barely, to that fat price staring back at her. All of it to fit a man a new arm.
"John gave us a lot of money." Tali said reflectively, looking around the opulence of their room. To the complete insistence of Liara, Tali had canceled her booking at the Karamein in favor of being here instead. The suite was a presidential one and spared not a single expense toward anyone getting the opportunity to stay here.
The included butler had been promptly dismissed at Tali's uncomfortable request. Having one was an absolute anathema to her core as a quarian. The night they'd had dinner with Captain Anderson had been full of them in the dinner hall they'd attended. Not once had she ever asked for their service from how out of place it all felt.
"…Looting pirates certainly made us rich." Liara agreed after a far-off kind of blink.
"A bit." Tali agreed, tone absent of any enthusiasm.
"…What prompted a thought like that?"
Tali rose from the table and went to find a spot next to her. Drawing up her knees, only because she felt so at odds with the luxury around her, she fixed her gaze toward the screen, mind still elsewhere.
"Just wondering," she began with a croak, "how guilty I should feel for how bloody the money might've been.
A long pause, the episode droning on between some hanar and human duking it out with a salarian fighting his way out of a cardboard box. The sitcom was a cringe fest to say the least.
"The money isn't the cleanest, no." Liara said, expression distant, "But it's working to do good now."
Tali didn't meet Liara's stare, electing to rest a chin on her knee.
"That's what matters." She finished.
Tali sniffled, eyes growing wet from it all. "What do you miss about him?"
Liara knew clearly who she was referring to. Lips pressed thin, she took in a large breath and mirrored the way Tali sat, legs crossed and arms wound over them.
She looked up at the ceiling as if that could do a better job of recalling his memory.
"I would say…" Her brows furrowed, eyes searching, "…his smile."
Tali's sigh turned into a tiny snort. "…Me too."
"Anything about him that comes to mind?"
Her head soon lulled, a smile vaguely there. "Thanksgiving."
"Ha. Oh my." Liara let out a small laugh, "…I remember Garrus having one too many drinks and Wrex complaining about heartburn."
Giggles.
"I got so drunk that night too." Tali was absently tracing lines in the couch now, "John pressured me. He was such a bad influence."
"I think we were all nursing pretty bad hangovers."
"No one as bad as Garrus." She said, tongue in cheek, "But I felt like I was a close second. John had me do like… a lot of shots." To make a point, she held onto her feet and stared down, "I swear. I couldn't feel my toes for days."
A soft chuckle from Liara. "I think… that was the happiest I'd ever seen him." She added, expression thoughtful.
"It did feel more real, didn't it?" Tali's voice simmered away, eyes soon joining her lull, "…I miss that smile."
"We all do."
The warmth Tali felt soon ebbed to nothing. An emptiness, the same kind, was there to withstand again and maintain its mantle over her soul. Her breath eased into a soft exhale and her eyes wilted. "…I miss him."
Coldness through Liara's lynch-pinned heart as she watched the woman gracefully fall inward to relive the pain of losing her beloved.
All the memories, good and bad. A collective of everything of the John Shepard Liara knew juxtaposed against the unknown quantity Cerberus might create.
It was then and here, Liara felt a needle, hot and sharp, lancing her soul. A maelstrom of doubt swelled and suddenly, her choices, foundational in their making, could not weather the disbelief she had in herself.
The question loomed then.
…Would he still be John? Would he be the John Tali knew? The man she had so loved? The answer, from a terroristic organization no less, was supposed to be a resounding yes. The Illusive Man had said as much.
Unfortunately, the answer wasn't so simple. No one could guarantee anything.
She refused to sit, however, in silent solidarity as she watched someone she loved crumble any further.
Liara turned to face her fully.
"Here." Her voice was soft. Steady. "Sit like me."
A sideways stare of confusion before Tali acquiesced and did as she was told.
Two hands out now. "May I?"
"Uhm…" Tali's hesitation only grew and she was already guessing where this was leading. Her hands hovered uncertainly before finally falling into Liara's grasp. "—Okay."
Pools of infinite blue meeting luminescent ones.
"Would you like to see him again?"
Tali's voice, when it came, could hardly pass as a breath. "What… do you mean?"
"I can show you him." Liara said plainly. Caringly.
Tali's hands were now clutched tightly against hers. A delicate, irresolute nod.
"Close your eyes," Liara whispered, voice barely audible yet filling the room, "And… open your mind."
Tali's eyes fluttered shut, breath catching her throat as she felt a consciousness brush against hers.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
𝑬𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 ㅤ𝑬 𝒕 𝒆ㅤ𝒓ㅤㅤ𝒏ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝒊 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝒕ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝒚ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
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There was a term John used back on the ol' SR1. Had to do with the cryptic visions that were ailing him and Liara going into his head to try and make sense of them.
He hadn't shared it with many—maybe not with anyone else, really—but he'd let Tali in on it—an inside joke to lighten his burdens.
'Total mind fuck', he'd called it, with that half-smirk she could never resist.
It was his way of adding a touch of humor to something that, in truth, terrified him more than he'd ever let on.
At the time, she hadn't fully grasped the meaning. She laughed along, of course, because it was John, and his humor had a way of cutting through tension. But the depth of what he meant, the real weight behind those words, had been lost on her.
But now? Sitting here, feeling Liara's consciousness meld with hers, the world around fading as she was drawn into something incredibly profound and unsettling?
She got it. Oh my, she got it.
Total mind fuck it was. She could practically hear John echoing the words in her head, laced with that familiar mix of sarcasm and sincerity he'd been known for.
She hadn't been prepared for this—not really.
She felt something crack and whistle and pop. Her whole brain felt like it was sitting under an ice-pick.
And just before she could scream at the mere idea of dealing with this for another second, it subsided.
Gone completely.
She opened her eyes and saw nothing but an inky firmament that surrounded her.
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There was light, but it was dark.
Colors, yet none.
Motion, yet stillness.
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She could smell something now. Something sweet. And bright. Cold and crisp. Like… early morning air. Her core was soon drizzled with warmth.
So this was what it was like, huh?
Damn.
Tali didn't want to feel it, but she felt jealousy. Liara had done this to John every time she'd ever read his mind.
Ugh.
"No." Liara said, but didn't, "It wasn't a pleasant experience. At all."
Tali faced the voice-but-not-voice.
Oh. You can hear me think.
"Yes. I can." Liara affirmed as she appeared from nowhere.
Tali's stare soon turned into a blushed one. "Nice robe—…thing."
Liara walked up to her. "It's what you picked. Not me."
Tali looked down to see she was wearing a white flowy cloth much like her. She could see her toes poking through and standing on blackness. "…Huh."
"Come." Liara offered a hand, "Walk with me."
"I'm not exactly used— to this."
"I know." Liara whispered but didn't, "It's okay."
"I see my feet." Tali mumbled, "I'm assuming you see my face too."
"When we meld, we share experiences." She explained, "Your face is well known to you. And because of that, your face is well known to me."
"Ah." Tali garbled.
"I know." Liara nodded, "It's confusing."
"Confusing? I can't even hide what I'm thinking. Watch."
An old memory of Tali's played. It was Liara tripping on stairs. Repeatedly.
Liara frowned. "No. I suppose you can't."
They kept walking to nothing.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm taking you somewhere."
"Taking me somewhere? Does that really involve us making the motions of walking? Why? Is this theatrical? Is there a purpose? Does it help build pose?"
"Tali."
"Hm?"
"No questions. I just want to show you something."
She could hardly resist.
"But… seriously. Why are we walking? Is this supposed to mimic neural pathways or something? Shouldn't we be able to just - I don't know - appear wherever we want to go? Is there a data transfer rate issue I'm not aware of? Are we, like, buffering?"
The aimless path they'd been walking soon stopped and fissured. A set of steps rose to the air and a whirlwind of light spawned to existence. Tali didn't have to think too hard to know it was some kind of gateway.
"…Keelah."
Liara stopped walking and pointed to the steps. "Go, Tali."
"...to where?"
"A memory."
With a second glance, Tali took the first step and climbed until she was face to face with the pooling of blue light. With more than just a second guess, she finally stepped through.
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A torrent of frosty air spilled, skin crawling from the chill while a light consumed the woman a hundred times over.
It was overwhelming. Blinding. But it soon melted away in place of solid ground.
A sky stretched above, vast and indifferent, with mountain ranges that etched the horizon. It took her a moment to process the abrupt shift.
"...Where am I?" Her voice was quiet. Tentative.
"The past," Liara answered, her tone solemn as she stepped up behind her.
Tali's eyes scanned the familiar landscape, recognition dawning. The jagged peaks. The melancholy air. A tired sun. It all came back to her.
"Why are we here." Her gaze fell and finally turned to face the woman still behind her, "Why are we looking at Ullipses."
"...To see the last of your days with John."
An impassive stare balanced on a blade. She held it against her, silence stretching before turning back to the sky, heart tightening under what she knew was coming.
An instinct or a forewarned omen, Tali stared up and waited for the inevitable.
The Normandy. She was scraping the sky, a column of smoke trailing, shards of composites shredding and scattering over the plains below.
"That's you," Liara intoned solemnly, "Saving us."
Eyes fixed on a dying bird, she followed its descent with a mask of stone.
Just as the Normandy was about to collide with the ground, blackness overtook, coldness binding the air with a sharp bite. She felt a shiver and its chill seeped down to her bones.
A flicker of warmth began to stir and it drew her from the cold. When she opened her eyes, she was staring down a memory she hadn't thought of in years—a younger version of herself, face naked and bare, sitting impossibly close to John, each lost in a moment that seemed to belong to a different lifetime.
If the sight of the Normandy's fall had rendered her silent, this memory left her completely speechless. The warmth of the firelight against their faces, the intimacy of their heartfelt closeness—it all felt like a distant dream, one that she could barely believe had ever been real.
"Tali," Liara's voice was soft, almost reverent, as she waited for the memory to play out—Tali and John smiling, laughing together. "What you had was beautiful."
Enthralled, she stared resolutely at him and said nothing.
He looked alive, as real as the day she'd last seen him, every detail as vivid as reality. It was as if he were really here. In front of her. She could feel the same warmth in his gaze, the same lightness in his sound—it was everything she remembered and more.
When she gazed into his eyes, just as she had countless times before, love-struck and mesmerized, a tear welled. She could hardly bear the ache of remembering.
She watched herself and John leaning in for a kiss, the promise of that touch so close, yet just out of reach. Before their lips could meet, an explosion tore through the air, sundering the memory into dissolution and sparing them from the ensuing aftermath.
"...Shame you two fell short of time," Liara murmured.
"Only a few more seconds."
"It's cliché, isn't it?"
Tali turned to face her as the world around them began to shift, the familiar steel walls of the Normandy emerging from the ground.
"What?"
"To have something always stop you."
The laugh Tali had was joyless. "The almost-moments are great until they happen to you."
A grim and understanding face was what Liara offered as it all finished mutating into John's quarters, the room bathed dimly in warm light.
Tali stood quietly, eyes drawn to the bed where they slept, John holding her close. She could almost feel it now. His weight against hers and the steady rise and fall of their breaths.
She had never mentioned this to anyone—this was where they shared their first and final kiss. Where he had told her he loved her. She stepped closer, gaze transfixed exclusively on him.
Voicelessness. Words couldn't quite capture the depth of what she was feeling and that was okay. They didn't need to be explained.
Her gaze eventually faltered, eyes betraying the face of stone she'd been wearing up until now. She could no longer hold back. A solitary tear. One that begat another.
Everything felt so painfully real. The softness of his touch. The warmth of his skin. And the inevitable end they were drawing toward.
Eyes locked on her own memory, she knelt down beside him and lost herself in the painful beauty of it all.
Imaginary or not, her tears felt as real as any she'd ever cried.
"I don't want to see this anymore." Tali muttered.
They watched the room diffuse from view and it all faded to nothingness.
The world around them shifted once more, and soon, they found themselves inside the Collector ship, rows of pods strung about with people trapped inside. Their haunting memory still unfurling, Tali saw herself, wrought with filth and charr, cradling John, unconscious and frail, In hands that trembled.
Crushed and suffocated by the magnitude of their suffering on Ullipses, her lip soon trembled from despair.
"…Keelah."
"We weren't at our best." Liara agreed quietly.
She turned away from looking any further at the memory. She was dreading what was coming next. Partly denial or not, she knew where this was leading.
The Denmark.
It's where this terrible nightmare ended. Or, for her, where it began.
That wasn't anything she wanted a rehash of. At all.
"…What now." Tali asked timidly with a set frown as the memory began changing into something else, "If it's— if it's what I think it is… then I don't want to go there."
She turned to face Liara, but there was no one to face.
"…Liara?"
The walls of the collector ship dissolved into the final oppressive chapter of their saga. A landslide of dread clutched her thundering heart, sweat bleeding over her brow when she realized she was alone.
"𝘓𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘢."
A panic-struck twirl, eyes frantically trying to pick out even the faintest glimmer of blue, a sign of her presence— 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 that would reveal where she was.
She was running out of time. The nightmare was rapidly approaching, but not a single trace of her anywhere.
"𝓛𝓲𝓪𝓻𝓪!" It was a shriek caught between a beg and plea, "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦!"
She was standing now in the midst of what would soon be John's tomb.
"𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌!"
The elevator before her opened, and she saw only herself step out with John remaining.
Her breath was robbed of air, mouth agape.
A warble of words exchanged, but she could hardly make sense of them from the panic gagging her soul.
She saw his hands set on her shoulders. Then, as if gravity itself had abandoned her, she fell to her knees, unable to do anything but witness his end, tears fissuring her vision.
" 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦." She uttered, lungs empty of air, arms coiling her chest, head bowed, "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵…— 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚."
Something wrenched her eyes upward. Forced her to witness John consigning himself to his death exactly the way she had remembered. And, as he drew closer to that final, irrevocable moment, the Denmark began to rend itself apart, fire and flame devouring everything in her wake.
She screamed. A scream to undo the unchangeable. A scream to recompense the mistake of letting him go.
She too, rooted to her place, was consumed in its destructive inferno.
And then the world fell away, her figure soon unraveling and essence dissolving. Colors swirled and a medley of memories that were both hers and not, vanished.ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
Eternity was not embraced.
Sweat crowning her brow, existence soon returned, and the tunnel she'd been transiting relinquished, leaving her back where she started. The Garaland Seasons.
She'd been hung upright like a sheet of ice, but then, like a gallow being cut, Tali keeled and sucked in a breath because it felt like she'd been suffocating for an eternity.
"…Tali."
A rake of breaths. "…What happened?"
"I don't know," Liara tried to say, sitting even closer to her, "You pushed me from the meld. Whatever you experienced after was of your own doing."
Tali's eyes snapped onto the woman, and the blue of Liara's irises flashed with a mix of confusion and growing ire.
"Of my own doing?" She repeated sharply with disbelief lacing her, "You led me there. You brought me back to that."
Liara shrunk. "I didn't— I never meant to hurt you. I thought… I thought it might bring you some closure."
"Closure?" Tali echoed, pairing her anger with a miserable smile, "You think dredging up every agonizing moment of my life is going to bring me closure." Her voice wavered as she stood, teetering between fury and anguish.
Liara's eyes softened, guilt eroding her. "That wasn't... I was with you until—"
"—Until you weren't."
Liara stood now too, heart aching and just as distressed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't… I didn't know you would—"
"—Would what?" Tali interrupted, tone bitter. "Fall apart? Relive the worst days of my life?"
Ticking silence.
Tali's gaze tired and she choked out a single sob before burying it.
Liara tried to reach out, hand hovering tentatively, but Tali stepped back and turned away, eyes nailing shut.
"I don't need help."
Rejected of her offer, she withdrew her hand, lips pressed together to maintain what was left of her broken composure.
She took some more steps back, hands flanking her head as she tried, vainly, to compose herself. "—I… need some air." She uttered, a gasp of air too thick to breathe, "I need to be alone. I need to think."
Liara only watched, pain in her eyes from the damage done.
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A tap on the counter from a glass of whiskey, music in the distance, ears deaf to its sound.
With an incognizant stare, sight nearly as blind as her hearing, she eventually reached out and knocked it back, tongue marinating in poison before swallowing.
A lack of confidence in her posture, she set it down, its bottom clacking, and held up a finger for another.
The second round arrived much like the first. A muted rap on marble, liquid rippling briefly.
She could hardly notice the existence of the other congregants, as sparse as they were. She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings.
She reached for the glass and sent it back. She didn't savor the burn like the first. She downed it in one go, further working to dilute the ache that had now cured.
She set it down again, but this time her hand lingered, pointer tracing the rim to try and ground herself to something tangible.
The man who'd been serving her, with his unobtrusive presence, watched with a straight stare when she motioned for another.
Third glass. Hesitation now from her. For a moment, she considered calling it here and walking away.
Then she saw his face. The gentleness it had. The infectious smile it carried. Or the contagious laughter that often followed.
Head back, she downed it with the knowledge that she would never have that again.
The bartender, perceptive enough to recognize how quickly she was moving through his Dextro-Jameson, let his hand hover over the bottle, gaze on her downcast one.
Was it going to be another round or had she reached her limit?
She felt the bartender's stare more than she saw it. She nodded, just barely, and he poured another, liquid gold there for the taking.
It remained, however, untouched. She stared into its color, mind still reeling from memories made fresh clawing her heart.
The remnants of the meld still brushed far closer than she wanted and lingered far longer than Tali would have ever allowed.
Her head started to swim, whisky's promise finally settling.
She took the glass and tossed it back and felt it slide down smoother than the last three, a sigh easing out, fumes caught between one breath and the next.
Thoughts finally dulling, she paid her tab and walked out without a word to anyone.
Stumbling outside with the city of Kithoi glittering all around, she stared up at each of the wards, driven by a deep and sudden drive to find… something. A connection. A memory of something simpler. A ghost of what once was.
A parked row of automated cabs, she picked one and clambered inside, inputting a destination she hadn't thought of until just now.
A heavy head against the headrest, stilled under the rhythm of an aircar gliding through the Citadel's arterial flow of traffic, she recalled vividly, despite the vague haze she'd been settling into, the very day she'd left Garrus and Wrex behind at Fauner's.
A predictable creature of habit, she supposed.
The aircar sailed across emptiness between wards and she watched the passing view lifelessly, hands absently playing with the other.
Soon enough, she arrived, her taxi approaching final and landing into an allotted parking space. A quiet hiss of a hermetic seal popping, bringing with it the air and ambience of the city returning, she climbed out and gazed up at the small unassuming façade across the street.
Yan'Sues. Zakera Ward. On the corner of the 39th and Savaughsean Way. That hole in the wall she'd patroned with John years ago.
Gaze held, the taxi ascended back to the sky, leaving her.
It was all the same. Just as she remembered. An unassuming place many would overlook in favor of something else. But it was special to her.
A park bench beside and a streetlamp overhead, she sank down and sat, hands clasped tightly in her lap, wind playing slightly against her hood.
All she could do was watch the ghosts of the past play on. Her grip on nothing tightened, echoes of a different time mocking her from afar.
A stare fixed on some unseen horizon beyond the present, the glow in her eyes fell away and a gray sea of grief rose its tide.
Coming here was a mistake.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
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"John?" ㅤ ㅤ
A whisper that tore through silence. A blade slicing his mental fabric.
Agony. Raw and unrelenting. He screamed something primal. A harrowing sound that shred his throat.
"...You promised." Her voice wasa symphony of pain and an ache of her shattered dreams.
He fell to his knees, hands clasped against his ears that bled to stanch the pain tearing into his soul.
"Stop. Please!" He bellowed, eyes squelched of sight.
"How could you...?" Her melody was betrayal and it echoed into him, "How…?"
Blood flowed freely. A crimson river down his pale face as he curled himself into a broken ball. Hands pressed harder against his head to seek refuge from her relentless whispers and piercing cry.
"Please! Stop! You're killing me!"
And then, the void claimed her. She was gone, leaving behind emptiness.
Silence followed. But Saren soon emerged from an encircled darkness. Gaze distant. Eyes hollow and devoid of mercy.
𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉.
Vision swimming, John met a dead man's hellborn stare. Beyond his spectral form, was Tali, staring lifelessly up toward a reaper that loomed.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙑𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝘽𝙚 𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙙.
She was soon consumed by fire and destruction and John's scream pierced the chaos.
He staggered to his broken feet and pushed past the apparition haunting him.
Saren's smoke parted, revealing something broken. Blood drained from his tone and he was left to witness moments before her end.
"John." A hand reaching up as it trembled with life that began to fade, "Hold me."
Saren's ghost was now held over John's shoulder, his stare a void that threatened to consume him.
𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝘿𝙞𝙚.
And John, in the heart of his storm, felt the universe die around him.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
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Indistinct shapes and muffled sounds. Then, abruptly, wakefulness.
The intubated air that combed his throat felt like powdered glass. A cold sweat slick against his back, skin burning under a chill as his hands grasped at nothing.
He remembered this. The sterile light hanging over. The room he was in.
A figure then stepped into the fore. A disheveled man. Salt and pepper hair flanking his head. Glasses too and an immutable furrow in his brow.
They locked eyes and John tracked him. The expression Shepard saw could only be described as total astonishment. Or shock. Maybe both.
One second stretching to the next, Wilson's furrow darkened and he shifted his stance to see if John would follow.
He did.
"Oh. My." His voice. It was as if it was held underwater. The lamp hovering over John was set aside.
"My name is Dr. Wilson. Blink twice if you can understand me."
Two blinks.
Wilson could hardly contain his excitement as he held up a pointer. "Follow my finger with your eyes only."
He moved and he followed. Left. Right. Up. Down.
"Extraocular movements intact. Remarkable."
John noticed the presence of another. A woman. She stood slightly behind the doctor, a steady and cold gaze piercing his pained and red-eyed one.
John tried to move, but Wilson was quick to set a hand against his chest.
"No. I know it hurts. But you cannot get up. Do you understand? You pull the wrong thing and you're on this bed for another four months."
John relaxed. Or, at least, as much as he could.
"Do you know who you are? Blink twice if you do."
Two blinks.
"Who are you? Are you… Taylor Swift? Two blinks if yes."
No blinks.
"Are you Maximus Meridius?
Still, he held.
"Are you John Shepard?"
Two blinks.
The questions he was asking weren't instilling confidence. John's mind, sluggish and confused, struggled to piece together the memories he had, fragmented as they were.
Only one struck with clarity. Being sucked from a breach in the Denmark. After was a dissolved haze of suffocation and terror. And then…. nothing.
He felt as if he'd emerged from a wall of fog. Thoughts both scattered and incoherent, they began to finally coalesce and focus on his more present concerns.
Where was he? Was he in a hospital? It didn't quite look it. At least from the array of machinery surrounding him.
Time also felt… off. How long had he been here? Hours? Days? Something told him he'd been here longer. Much longer.
Panic. His heart thrummed under the assault of every question he could think of.
Where were the others? What of his crew? What of his team?
What of Tali?
The last he'd seen of her was the lift doors closing between them.
Was she safe?
Was she even alive?
His eyes darted about the room, searching for clues or a familiar face. He wanted to speak, but the intubation kept him silent.
Wilson, observing John's angst and agitation, was awe-struck by the emotions on display. Jonh's brain was working. Maybe not perfectly, but it was working.
"You likely have a lot of questions." Wilson stepped back reached over for a pen and paper from a nearby tray, "Try your best. You might notice your fine motor functions are not going to be as you remember them"
Accepting, John's hand shook as he scribbled, the letters coming out jagged and uneven.
He asked the first thing that came to mind.
-crew where are they-
Wilson read the note and then he exchanged a glance with Miranda, whose expression remained inscrutable. "He really remembers."
"Most hands were lost when the Denmark was destroyed. Half of the Normandy's crew did not survive."
John's eyes narrowed and he scribbled more, his impatience mounting.
-who survived-
"I'm not sure. Your non-alliance team, however, all made it out."
-how long-
Both Wilson and Miranda exchange glances.
"...A long time." Wilson said quietly.
John wrote the words again, even larger, before underlining them repeatedly.
-ＨＯＷ ＬＯＮＧ-
"...It's the second of October, 2185, Commander. It's been… two years."
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[ GARALAND SEASONS | 4TH FLOOR | 4-18 ]
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Liara remained.
She stood by the window. A silhouette against the Citadel's perpetual twilight. Arms woven over her chest as her eyes, unfocused on the distant, twinkling lights of passing ships, stared on.
The suite was silent save for the soft hum the Garaland's environmental systems. The spacious room felt cavernous now. Oppressively empty even.
She hadn't moved much since Tali left. The untouched cup of tea on the side table had long since gone cold, a thin film forming on its surface.
The feelings Liara had been stewing were not pleasant. Everything she'd been doing and every choice leading up to where she was now was under a magnifying glass made by her own accord.
Tyranny under her good intentions, it seemed. That's what this felt like— this dynamic she'd put herself in.
The woman closed her eyes, but she could still see the image of Tali's anguished face burned into her vision. It was like witnessing betrayal. The rawness of what she saw was difficult to digest.
Her bracelet continued to notify her of the day's messages, but she ignored them, the messages failing the penetrate the bubble of stillness she'd wrapped herself in.
Even her normally impeccable appearance had frayed at the edges. Her clothes were creased, collar askew. Weariness in her eyes as well.
Soon, her gaze drifted to the door again, as if expecting—or perhaps dreading—Tali's return. But the door remained stubbornly closed now for hours.
A sudden call. A tone she'd recognized. One she'd assigned to a specific person. She tensed, mind blanking and heart skipping.
Omni-tool lit, she took a deep breath and composed herself before accepting the call.
"Dr. T'Soni."
"…Illusive Man."
"How are you faring, doctor?"
"Another day." Was her answer. It wasn't intended to be a callous platitude, but it's what came out.
"Are you free?"
She trailed a passing air car from the window flying gracefully above.
"…Not particularly in the headspace to be having a conversation right now."
"I believe the news I'm about to give you is something you'd rather hear now."
"What is it?"
"Shepard has been conscious twice now."
Liara felt herself at a loss for words. The timing couldn't be more ironic.
"—That's not all." TIM continued in Liara's absent reply, "He remembers who he was, the Normandy, and all of you. To what extent however, has yet to be determined."
Liara still hadn't said anything and almost choked.
"…T'Soni?"
"I'm sorry. That's… a lot to take in."
"I understand. The news is indeed significant." A pause from a soft clink of ice in a glass barely audible through the comm.
"Given the pace, I believe Shepard's recovery is proceeding faster than anticipated. Our timelines are accelerating. I will keep you posted of any developments worth passing on to you should the need arise. I believe congratulations is in order, Doctor. We could not have done this without you."
So it was done then. Shepard was alive.
"…I don't know what say."
TIM offered a confident, but small, smile.
"Be well, T'Soni." A drag from his cigarette, "And Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Knock knock."
TIM winked from existence, the faint ghost of his voice lingering in the silence. Liara barely had time to process before the sound of the door sliding open broke through her haze. A faint shuffle of feet followed, accompanied by the soft click of a duffel being set down.
It was Juel.
"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle, almost tentative.
Liara glanced up from the distraction on the flat screen. "Hello."
He crossed the room in a few easy strides, the familiar hum of the fridge filling the silence as he reached for a bottle of water.
"Where's Tali?" he asked, taking a sip, his eyes flicking toward the door as if expecting her to walk through any second.
"She left." Came her detached reply.
Juel hesitated for a moment, the edge of the fridge door still in his grip. He glanced over at her, then let it close softly.
"How was rehab?" Liara asked, not looking away from the screen, voice still distant.
"Same as yesterday," Juel answered flatly. He stared at the label on his bottle as if it held something interesting to read. "Fine motor control's still bad. Still learning."
A long pause that followed. Juel lingered by the counter for a moment, as though unsure whether to break the stillness or just let it hang there.
Eventually, he crossed the room. He settled into a chair near her, but not too close—an instinctive respect for the distance she seemed to be keeping.
The vid played on its mindless drivel neither had been paying all that much attention to. Liara looked lost at sea. He didn't know it, but the woman beside him was far from here, navigating her mental labyrinth of regret and uncertainty.
"Surprised you're not out with her," Juel ventured, not wanting to intrude but also not comfortable with the quiet.
"She wanted to be alone." Was her answer.
"…She okay?"
"I'm not sure."
That didn't sound all that convincing. Something obviously happened between the two but he didn't feel it was his place to be asking anything. Settling into his chair and leaning slightly to rest over his knees, he figured it'd be safer to ask about the past instead.
"So," Juel stared into his fake palm and had the digits, the same amount any normal quarian had, ball into a fist—a reflexive motion he had yet to fully grow accustomed to. "If you don't mind me asking," he began again, hesitant, "what was Tali like before, uh... before John died?"
Her eyes drifted, caught in a web of memories she hadn't quite allowed herself to visit for some time.
"I'd like to think she's... nearly the same as you know her now. Dedicated. Loyal." The words slipped out easily, but there was a wistfulness in her tone that hadn't been there before. "Smart."
She crossed her legs, more for the act of self-comfort than anything else, "But she was much happier," Liara added stoically, "I don't see much of that anymore."
He didn't say anything right away and he could see her reining in emotions she'd rather not reveal.
"You would know more." Liara said, "You've been with her twice as long as I have now." There was a level of vulnerability in her voice she couldn't really hide, "But tell me—do you think she'll ever really come back to who she was?"
He didn't have anything immediately to say and found himself staring out the window.
"Has she gotten better? Sure," he said at first, but his tone lacked conviction. "But better doesn't mean… the same."
She turned away and traced the outline of a distant ship outside the window. Silence.
"…I don't think she'll ever be who she was," Juel added quietly, almost as if the admission was something he'd been avoiding, "Maybe it's just how things are now. She's… different. Probably more reserved than you remember. There's still moments where I see flashes of what I think is the old her, but it's like…" he trailed off, his jaw tightening.
Like the light inside had been blown away, Liara finished in her mind.
"…I wish I could say she'll heal, but I don't know if that's the right word anymore. I think this is just… who she is now," Juel said, resignation clear in his voice. "You can't lose someone like that and come out the same."
He was speaking from experience.
Liara's heart clenched the secret she held, eyes betraying the storm underneath. But soon, her gaze was drawn inward and she stared herself down. There was more silence, but it wasn't calm.
Liara hoped, that someday, Juel would be wrong.
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Three days later.
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10-5-2185
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The Magden Terminal. It's what Tali saw when their taxi made final. Banking away from the arterial flow of city traffic, they began their descent, a slow and serene arc giving way to the sprawl of the travelers below.
"It's busier than I remember," Juel remarked, watching lazily the hustle and bustle.
"Yeah." Was all Tali could say.
Rehabilitation had come and gone, and Juel was now, officially, none worse for the wear.
Their cab arriving on a quartered strip of road, the doors opened and the three of them stepped out, meager belongings slung over their shoulders. The cacophony of the terminal enveloped them – a symphony of voices, announcements, and the distant hum of ship engines.
"I guess this is farewell," Liara said sadly, trying to hold Tali's stare.
"I guess so." Was her toneless answer. It wasn't angry. It wasn't happy. Neutral. Through and through.
"Thanks, Liara, for letting us stay with you," Juel added, breaking the momentary silence.
"Of course. It was my pleasure." Liara's smile was gentle, tinged with a sadness she couldn't quite hide.
"What now for you?" Tali asked, still in that colorless voice of hers.
"I'll be leaving tomorrow back to Illium. Just have some contacts here that I need to follow up with before then." Liara paused, staring up and around the grand space, "It's never easy, is it? Saying goodbye."
Tali only nodded and set her duffel down before opening her arms to hug the woman. When they embraced, Tali's eyes slowly shut and she sighed.
Heart against hers. Liara did not feel warmth.
"I'm sorry for leaving you all the way I did years ago." Tali uttered.
"You don't need to be sorry," Liara said, still holding onto her.
They finally separate and she shouldered her bag.
"We'll see each other again," Liara added, though even she couldn't quite tell if it was a reassurance or a wish.
A few steps back, Tali's stare was pensive before finally turning away with Juel in tow.
And just like that, they were gone, making their way toward the terminal entrance. Liara remained, watching them slowly disappear into the crowd until all that remained was the distant murmur of the terminal and the constant ebb and flow of departing ships.
"…Gonna miss this a bit," Juel muttered, breaking their muted silence.
Tali raised a brow. "Miss what?"
Juel gave a half-hearted shrug, scanning the terminal. "You know… the quiet. The city. The... air."
She gave him a sidelong glance, somewhat amused. "Not exactly the most peaceful place."
"Maybe not," he conceded, "But it's got its moments."
The two continued on, the sprawling vista stretching out behind them. The Citadel, in all its gleaming glory, would soon be left behind, and with it, the memories made, new and old, cherished and painful.
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Two weeks later.
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10-19-2184
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In the two years since her return to the Migrant Fleet, the Alarei had remained little more than a distant silhouette on the horizon—a shadow among countless ships drifting through the void.
As important as the vessel was to the Migrant Fleet's interests, it had always been a world apart from her, a place bound up in matters she never felt compelled to understand.
And she'd been fine with that. Until today.
Ahead, the Alarei loomed, a utilitarian vessel that bore the scars of solar winds and micro-meteorite impacts, growing larger by the second as her father's personal shuttle carried her across the black.
Whatever necessitated her presence here, it had pulled her from the distance she'd kept for so long. And Tali wasn't sure how she felt about that.
"A minute more." Vana reported.
Killing engines to drift, they watched the cradle they were aiming for reach out to catch them.
Clasps interlocking and motors whirring with a gentle pull of inertia.
Standing as the airlock opened, Tali crossed the aerobridge and found her father waiting at the far side—his silhouette framed by a dim light overhead.
He looked older. Tired, maybe. Or perhaps it was something else entirely.
"Dad."
He gave her a nod, his expression difficult to read. "Tali. Thank you for convening."
"Convening? Who else is participating?"
"Daro."
She said nothing.
"Come," He said, turning around, "Follow me."
She followed and they walked.
"We found something." He began, hands clasped behind him, "Something I believe is important."
"What?"
"You'll see."
Down a hallway and into a conference room, the table in the center projecting a holo of something she immediately recognized.
The look on her face was hard, but neutral.
Unbeknownst to her, Daro emerged from a corner of shadow, face down on a tablet.
"Does this look familiar?" She asked, never pausing to even grace Rael's daughter with the effort of a stare.
Tali only took in a glimpse of the other admiral before setting her eyes on the projection of the naked quarian woman. "Yes."
"An interesting and expected connection. I only ask because there are coordinates of Rayingri embedded in her."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she examined the figure more closely. "…I don't follow." Tali said, shifting her glance between her dad and Daro. "What are you suggesting?"
"This image… think of this as a visual hash function," Rael elaborated, "The decryption process we've developed converts the binary output of the image into readable code—strings of information that can relay coordinates, messages, or even direct system controls. The image we're seeing irrelevant—it's merely a carrier, a medium to mask payload."
Daro, still focused on her tablet, finally interjected, "Our decryptions were able to extract data—transmission logs, flight paths, communications, maps. It's all in there, hidden." Her voice was clinical, as if explaining a standard process. "But to our eyes, all you see is this—noise in a shape."
Tali, again, shared stares between them. "…This is an awfully organic way to be communicating. No?"
"Deception. Collaborative development with Saren and Sovereign. The geth were influenced by them. At least—that's our guess."
"Fascinating." Tali murmured, staring.
"You're staring at a discovery nearly two years in the making, Tali'Zorah." Daro stated, "It absolutely is fascinating."
"Is there anything else that you could gather from this?"
"The transmission source is Rayingri." He paused briefly, eyes sharp as he gauged Tali's reaction. "However, there were at least two intended recipients for this... message." His voice lowered, tension creeping, "And I can guarantee you're not going to like what I'm about to say."
"What."
"The first location we were able to determine was in the Dohlen system in the Far Rim."
She shrugged, nonplussed. "Okay."
"…The second was located in the Illikah System. That's where Ullipses was, Tali."
Thick and suffocating stillness.
"…What now?" Tali croaked.
"Not what," Daro corrected, her voice perpetually in that rich and calming cadence, "but why. A premature red giant in the Far Rim is, frankly, concerning. And, given the… errant events of Ullipses, something is repeating itself—but this time, with Dohlen. Conveniently, there's an abandoned colony in that system. This is where we'll situate our operation of study."
The image was replaced by the colony in question. Haestrom.
"...When do we commit?"
"Order of procedure hasn't been realized." Rael said, taking his turn, "Anticipate four months of preparation before operational commencement. The entirety of the STU, however, has already been elected for tasking."
She felt something stir. Felt something awaken even.
A steady feeling of resolve. There was a direction she could point herself toward now. A chance to focus her energy toward answers for the phenomena that had robbed her of a life she'd dared to dream.
If this was the closest she'd get to closure, she'd take it.