Before this Begins I wanted to make it clear that this is not something I wrote, This was made by a deleted author named The Sneaky Fox. It was deleted a few years ago despite being a amazing Mass effect fic. After a lot of digging on the Internet for a few months I found it and thought I should re-upload it here again were it belongs. All Credit and Praises for the story goes to The Sneaky Fox. I take credit for nothing.

The Silence After

by The Sneaky Fox

Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Rating: M
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,214
Author URL: u/4415624/The-Sneaky-Fox
Summary: Set post-ME3, it focuses on the struggles both Shepard and Tali must face to find their way back to one another, and build the home they've always dreamed of having. M for language and adult themes.

1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome all! This is obviously a post-ME3 fic, as the description has mentioned, starting right when Shepard takes that cliff-hangery breath at the end of the game. It'll focus both on Shepard's recovery and the stranded Normandy crew, specifically Tali.

This is a slightly AUish prequel to _The Storm_, with only minor differences present.

Also, if you haven't read the aforementioned story, I've been told it's not completely horrible, so go read that if you want. However, it's not a necessity, seeing as how this is set before it.

Reviews are always appreciated, so tell me what you think. Happy reading!

_Howling ghosts they reappear_

_In mountains that are stacked with fear_

_But you're a King and I'm a Lionheart._

_And in the sea that's painted black,_

_Creatures lurk below the deck_

_But you're a King and I'm a Lionheart._

_And as the world comes to an end _

_I'll be here to hold your hand_

_'Cause you're my King and I'm your Lionheart._

**Prologue**

A single heart beat loudly in the darkness, as if it were crying out for its mate, a second heart that beat in tandem lightyears away.

He felt things, phantom agony in broken limbs, blood rolling like crimson tears down his body, pouring slowly out of wounds made by the enemies of a lost war.

Yet all of that was in his periphery. He felt curiously weightless, even as concrete crushed his broken body down into the ground. He saw the stars twinkling overhead, pockets of light poking through a dark blanket. He watched weak mass effect fields bubble and warp before him, turning the stars into tiny swirls.

He was on the Citadel, he realized dimly. He saw one of its arms stretched out miles above, broken and cracked and bleeding fire, a result of the immense power of the Crucible.

Voices. Wavering and panicked, ones he couldn't make out.

He wondered if it was the voices of the dead, beckoning him to the Other Side—wherever that may be. As long as he could be with Tali, he didn't much care about their location.

If he had been able to move, he would've curled into a tight ball, the mere thought of her more agonizing than anything he'd ever felt.

Oh God, be safe. Please, please let her be safe.

His breath came in ragged gasps now, the ache to have her near him filling his chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Images and sensations filled his mind; her face, the smell of her hair, the taste of her skin. The sound of her voice. She was so vivid in his mind that he could almost feel her presence.

Please be safe.

"Shepard!" he heard a call in the distance, and he turned his head towards the noise. Or tried to, at least. His whole body burned with pain, bringing him out of his deathly trance as the agony became apparent to his dulled mind. He noticed a piece of concrete crushing his left leg, the limb's circulation cut off and only allowing him to feel a muted pressure from the weight of the rubble.

He also noticed that there was something embedded into his abdomen, but he couldn't see what. Shrapnel, maybe. His left hand was a complete mess, a bloody mass of broken bone. And he could feel the low flame that was setting across his skin, telling him that he'd suffered burns from the explosion.

He wasn't in good shape, that was for sure.

"Shepard!" closer now, to his right. He opened his mouth to speak, his lips slowly pulling apart, having been glued together by sweat and blood. He felt his throat work, trying to make sound, but all he could muster was a faint gurgle.

"He's around here somewhere! I'm picking up vital signs." The accented voice belonged to Miranda.

He tried to turn his head again, this time with more success. All around him was dust and rubble, torn metal and smoking ruins. But he could see people in the distance. Most notably was a giant hulking form, one that could only belong to Wrex.

He attempted to lift his arm off the ground, to hail them with movement when sound had failed him, but his muscles didn't have the strength to move. Instead, his fingers twitched as he flexed another muscle, this one inside his brain. He felt the weak response of his omi-tool and sent out a small spark pushing the nearest piece of concrete. It fell to the ground, clacking and crumbling as it knocked into other bits of rubble.

His vision got blurry and twinkling spots appeared in front of his eyes, that small use of his energy draining him. Yet it had worked; he heard feet knocking around around rubble, running towards him as they went to investigate the noise.

"Shepard!" called Wrex, who now stood before him. The krogan leaned down and hauled the rubble off of him with a grunt.

"Wrex," he was able to choke out, so quietly that he could barely hear himself. That last small reserve of energy now drained, he sank into oblivion as he felt Wrex lift him off of the ground.

Miranda scrolled through Shepard's vitals on her omni-tool, fear rising in her chest every time she looked at his broken form.

Wrex had carried the Commander back to the shuttle they'd taken, laying him gently on one of the benches. Kasumi and Jack sat in the shuttle as well, who had both come along to find him.

The whole galaxy had been looking for him, really. Shuttles had begun to comb the Citadel as soon as ships and marines had regrouped and organized.

Three days. Three days, and he was still alive. Miranda couldn't believe it. The readings she was getting told her that Shepard's cybernetics had been damaged, but still showed some form of functionality, which had kept his heart beating.

And his damn armor. The medical programs in it were still working, for Christ's sake. She may not agree with the way the Alliance operates, but damned if they didn't make good combat gear.

His vitals suddenly flatlined and she jumped, scurrying over to him. With practiced efficiency and only a touch of panic, she began to preform CPR, pressing down into his armored chest at quick intervals, pressing her mouth to his and blowing into his lungs.

He took a gasping breath as his readings began to level out and she heaved an exhausted sigh. This was the second time he'd flatlined in the short time they'd been in the shuttle—apparently disturbing his body had disrupted whatever stasis he'd been in, and now it was a constant struggle just to keep him breathing.

She couldn't even use the defibrillator they had; his armor was melted onto his skin and she hadn't been able to pry it off to expose his chest. She needed proper medical equipment to do that and all she had were the simple surgical tools she'd brought.

The shuttle shook as they entered Earth's atmosphere and she caught the IV hanging haphazardly onto the ceiling of the air car, which was connected to Shepard's wrist.

"Shep looks like hell. Do you think he'll make it?" Kasumi asked, her voice abnormally subdued.

Miranda sighed again. "I don't know. The fact that he's still alive boggles my mind, but I don't know how much more his body can take." she said, glancing at him.

It was difficult to look at him and not cringe. God, the pain he must be in. Shepard's body was covered in blood and dirt, his skin burned and riddled with gashes, the remnants of his armor bent and melted at odd angles, some of it even piercing into his flesh.

She heard Jack speaking into her comm, telling the others that they'd found Shepard. All of his old crew had been stationed in London in an effort to help make the final push against the Reapers, and they were all the first ones to set up a search party.

She felt the shuttle decelerate as it touched down in London, which currently had the most organized medical facilities available.

The door opening, she had Wrex place Shepard onto a gurney, which they hauled out of the shuttle and across the rough terrain of London's ruined street.

Many people stood around the landing pad, all wanting to see the Great Commander Shepard. Yet none swarmed them, nor did they begin to yell questions. They stood in respectful silence, paying homage to the man that had ensured the survival of all.

They moved him quickly to the nearby hospital, which was actually a very large tent, its dark fabric stretching out in all directions. The buildings were far too unstable to hold that many injured, and so to avoid even more deaths, they had stringed together army tents in an effort to make a secure environment in which doctors could work.

Miranda ducked through the curtained door, helping Wrex move the gurney. They past a myriad of beds, all filled with soldiers and wounded civilians. Finally, in a far-back corner, they were able to lay Shepard down on a medical cot.

Laying his unconscious form on the bed, Miranda waved a nurse over and told him to start cleaning the blood and dirt off the Commander while she began the grisly process of pealing off his armor.

Cutting away the melted buckles and frayed straps, she lifted his shoulder pieces off, the dense underweave of the combat cloth coming away as well, exposing ripped and burnt skin.

She felt eyes on her and looked up, realizing that Shepard had woken up, and was simply staring at her. His blue gaze shone harshly under the wavering medical light, his cybernetics glowing faintly against his skin.

She couldn't recognize the expression in his eyes, but whatever

it was, it was painful to look at.

She shook her head and got back to work. He looked so out of it that he likely didn't even know that he was awake. She wanted to talk with him, be able to comfort him in some way, but she needed to stay in her professional state of mind to keep him alive; friendliness would have to wait.

That's what she kept telling herself, but as she began to pull off the chest piece of his armor he gave a pained groan as his skin was torn away with it. She stopped and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep a sob back. He was already in so much pain and she was just adding to it.

She felt something brush her other hand, the one that hung limply at her side. She saw Shepard's bloodied fingers brush her knuckles, and she looked up at him.

His eyes held warmth, and looked at her with that damned confident gaze he usually wore; the one he always gave to a crew member who had to make a difficult decision or do something unpleasant. It was one of one of confidence and determination, one that have strength to those that needed it most.

She nodded, her eyes stinging. He always had a way of making a person feel stronger than they were. Even now, as he lay on his death bed in agony, he was helping his crew. If he could do that, then she should damn well be able to do her job.

She methodically took off his combat gear, placing it on the ground beside his cot, flinching, but not stopping, whenever he made a pained sound. When she reached his abdomen, she pulled out the piece of metal embedded into his side, then sighed with relief as she noticed it hadn't punctured any organs, the armor stopping it from killing him.

Now completely unclothed, she pulled a medical blanket over him and began to bandage and clean what wounds she could, the nurse assisting in any way possible.

She administered a slight sedative, extremely careful about the dosage; too much in his current state could put him into a fatal coma.

Telling the nurse to stay by his side, she collected his armor and went to throw out the pieces. As she picked it up, a piece of paper fell out of the broken pile of armor and gently floated to the ground.

Placing the ruined gear down once more, she bent down to pick it up, then felt her eyes sting again as she realized what it was. Even burnt and smeared with blood, the image was still clear enough to recognize.

It was a picture of Tali, standing unmasked on Rannoch.

Just a tiny acknowledgment. The little blurb I put before the chapter was taken from a song called "King and Lionheart" by Of Monsters and Men. I suggest you have a quick listen to the band—their music is awesome.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this short prologue!