A/N: This epilogue to the Mass Effect trilogy features a thematic approach to every chapter; all themes being encompassed by a uniting, primary theme of the evolutionary process. Currently rated M for gore and sexual content.

FemShep/Liara pairing will be central focus. Default Shepard is used, but her appearance and first name will be rarely if at all mentioned.

Chapter 1: Adaptive Plasticity

:::

"According to Darwin's Origin of Species, it is not the most intellectual of the species that survives; it is not the strongest that survives; but the species that survives is the one that is able best to adapt and adjust to the changing environment in which it finds itself."

- Dr Leon C. Megginson, 1963

:::

The air was clean, fresh; free of dust and smoke. Though the horizons of all directions were still tainted with browns and greys, a sight drawn upward yielded endless blue, ears heard the songs of birds, and the nose found the scents of living trees and grass whose cells radiated with life. But eyelids were dark and heavy, with their owner in a daze, staring off blankly into the pleasing view of green. There was a family sitting beneath the shade of a tree on the other side of a decorated dirt path; a mother, father, and a little boy, all sitting in a small triangle and playing with little toy figurines and ships. The parents bore patched-up injuries. The mother had a special medical sleeve for treating burns, and the father's right forearm was a slightly different hue than the rest, and had a different texture. It was a functional, temporary prosthetic, most likely a cheap and simple model due to the shortages the Alliance was inevitably suffering.

Her eyes were fixed on them for an indeterminable amount of time. Her fingers gently fidgeted in her lap as a soft breeze ruffled through strands of hair, tossing them in front of her forehead before they settled back into place. She became aware of her own breathing, and her own heartbeat.

:::

A great silence buried the landscape beneath its bleak and heavy weight. The area, once filled with bustling life and movement, had been reduced to a ghastly vista reminiscent of a world during its stage of early primordial chaos. It was utterly unrecognizable as the remains of an advanced society, and much too lonely - far too lonely and desolate – to confidently suggest that anyone else even existed within its boundaries at all. Far away from the somber ruins, people were stirring, repairing, reuniting. But not here; this place, this wasteland, was to be restored to its former glory after functioning regions of the world had been saved. There was no rescuing it, no reviving it. If the people wanted to return here, they would have to build anew. There was no salvage; nothing of consequence to use, and no reason to waste their efforts upon the sunken ship that was London, at least until they were comfortable enough in resources to do so. The destitute field of rubble and death stretched on for miles, hundreds of former buildings completely leveled, and the fortunate ones only surviving in the shape of hollow, eerie skeletons. Organics had made it the very center of their universe for such a short yet heavy amount of time. All sentient eyes had been looking at this place mere hours ago; the center of their mentally-conscious gravity. There had been too many eyes. Red stares that burned the air and little frightened orbs with miniature suns in them. They had torn this place apart.

Eyelids briefly trembled with a trace of life.

Their gravity had crushed this place, suffocated it. The time here had been full of pain, confusion, and death. Too many eyes full of tears and debilitating terror, too many screams and broken skulls. Overwhelmed little bodies had crumpled to dust beneath the flashes of red light and the deep hum, the ancient universal sound of death heard by forgotten peoples throughout conceivable history. The nightmare had seemed to warp time. Staggering with blurry vision and fading breaths, the organics had suddenly become aware of their existence to a heightened degree. They had been here, in this very spot, in this very moment, for all the ages of existence. This very battle had been raging for eons, far longer than that brief meeting with the Reapers. They had always been this way, teetering on the edge of extinction since the very birth of each of their respective species with only a few pounds of force separating their lives from their bodies forever.

Something moved within the debris; something relatively small and delicate against the colossal mountains of rubble, quickly drawing in a single, shallow gasp. Eyes flickered, darting, taking in the sight of a shrouded, sunless sky churning with foul clouds. The pain came immediately and did not cease. Heavy smoke and dust burned in her lungs; she gasped anew, struggling to breathe against the agony that racked her chest with every slightest movement. Panic was flooding her mind like a thundering poison, and for the long duration of a few minutes, her brain was electrified with a delirious barrage of incoherent and primitive thoughts and feelings mainly comprised of fear and complete disorientation. The storm of thoughts amplified in severity when she discovered that she could not move, let alone feel any part of her legs, arms, and face. She began to hyperventilate, eyes rapidly moving about in silent desperation. Horror seized her heart, overwhelming her with the sights of tendrils of smoke rising into the sky like tragic ghosts, the flickering of fires in the distance, and the dark, chilling silhouettes of devastated buildings rising up on all sides and enclosing her in a personal, forsaken circle of hell. Waves of distress pulled her under, and she lost consciousness once again.

:::

She had gradually leaned forward during the vivid recollection, and was now sitting in a slouch with her hands tightly folded together. Her breathing had grown shallow and faster, and her irises were clouded with a darkness that trembled with the minute shifting in her gaze while her mind whirled within her skull.

"Shepard?"

"What?" she responded to the sound of her name, but made no movements that could indicate the allowance of her full attention.

"Shepard. Look at me."

"What?" She abruptly turned her head to see the asari sitting next to her on the bench watching her with wary blue eyes.

Liara brought the datapad she held down to her lap. "Are you all right?"

Shepard gave the family a final glance. "…I don't feel well," she admitted, withdrawing from the question. "I… I think it's the leg," she lied. "The leg… it doesn't feel right. I think some of the nerves aren't lined up right or something. Maybe I just need to get used to it." She gestured to the replacement limb attached to her right leg, just above her knee where her live flesh and bone ended. This one, as opposed to what the man across the path had, perfectly matched her skin and was so discreet that at first glance one could not tell that it was synthetic. She rubbed the knee. Her brain confirmed its connection to the limb, but something wasn't right. The touch felt wrong; though she felt the pressure of her fingers perfectly, the finger textures were terribly muted.

It was the first day that Shepard had been released from the hospital. Though Liara had visited while she was bedridden and on drugs that made the room's lights bloom brighter and sounds hum longer in her ears, the asari was only able to dedicate sporadic visits of only a few hours each. Shepard remembered lying in the bed, too weak to move and the effects of painkillers tugging at the corners of her mouth into a dreamy smile as Liara sat down beside her, kissed her head, held their battered hands together, and pulled her into gentle, blissful melds that were filled with nothing but warmth, comfort, and love. Other visitors had come and gone. She particularly remembered Garrus, whose face made her burst into a heavily-medicated sob of joy. The turian had laughed at her, though she was convinced that he had held a similar cry of celebrated reunion behind his mandibles. Shepard also remembered being crushed in someone's arms, but she couldn't recall whose. Perhaps they were Wrex's, judging by the faint memory of a nurse panicking over the din of loudly-beeping monitors.

"It'll be all right, though," Shepard continued. "I'll have it for a few months, so I'll get used to it soon."

The asari observed her for a long moment. Shepard shrank under her knowing scrutiny, but Liara seemed to let it go, as she didn't press Shepard any further to reveal what was truly causing her anxiety. She looked away, acutely aware that Liara could plainly see the fermenting thoughts in her eyes.

:::

Startling awake once more, she found that her environment had not changed. The sun was still away and it was impossible to tell how long her eyes had been closed. When the agony returned, she felt the very real possibility of fainting again, but fought against it, determined to reach a state in which she could assess her situation and begin to remember all the events that had recently come to pass. Her paralysis remained. She willed her arms to move, but they refused, and she found that she lacked all sensation. If she had been missing every limb on her body, she would not have been aware. A bit of blood and spit was expelled from her cracked lips when her breathing hitched into a sudden cough; the droplets ran down the corners of her mouth, and against the curve of her jaw. An involuntary and hoarse sound of strain escaped her throat. Still trapped in a haze of delirious thought, Commander Shepard's vocalization increased in sound until it became a cry; a pitiful, mournful sound broken by her parched throat. Her world was lit by pain not in only her skin, but deep in her organs and very bones. She initially cursed at her existence. Through the physical torment and the lurid, damned landscape, she envied the endless void of her dreams. She solemnly closed her eyes again, praying for any respite, for her conscious self to be transported to anywhere else in the universe.

The memories came in a rush. All the horror, the power, and the loss. She remembered everything at once; all those feet of soldiers pounding the ground, gunfire singing through the air, screams and shouts, and the faces of her team. The life in their eyes, their unwavering trust in their commander that they had developed over months and even years of camaraderie. She remembered charging, feeling the sting of rounds beginning to pierce her shields and armor. She had felt as if submerged in dark waters, all movements slowed by adrenaline and fear. People saying her name.

Shepard, Shepard, Shepard…

Her fingers curled ever so slightly. Where were they? Were they okay? Was anyone okay at all? She reeled, opening her eyes widely once again. What if she had failed? What if she was actually dead, along with everyone else, and was currently doomed to a sphere of purgatory, perhaps in payment for all the lives she had ended? But what about Thane's prayer for her? Was it not enough? Where was the endless sea, the dissipation of self-awareness that would melt into the gentle tides of a peaceful rest?

She took a deep breath. "Calm down… You're not thinking straight. You probably hit your damned head, so stop thinking crazed things. You need to stay calm. You're not dead. You're not dead. But how? Why am I alive? How…?"

Her eyes swam with wonder.

"I'm… I'm alive. I have to get up. I have to see if I was successful; I need to see if everyone's okay… If anyone is okay… Anyone at all."

She lurched upward, crying out at the burst of pain it caused her with spotted vision and ringing ears. Strands of stray hair were plastered to her forehead by dry blood, dirt, and sweat; and overwhelmed tears borne from an intense mixture of her reaction to her wounds and a wall of pure determination welled in her eyes, but she did not let them escape. Her body curled into an upright position where she swayed with weariness as the world spun around her. When Shepard regained her sight, her entire body went deathly cold. The state of her right leg was to be described as something from her nightmares; mangled, bent in unnatural places, and bloated, infected flesh peeking out of the spaces where her armor had been cracked and shattered. Shaky hands flew to the limb. She touched the flesh that was spotted with sickly purple and greens that became alarming hues of gray, but felt nothing. She activated her hardsuit's computer to run a diagnostic, but was met by an error message that announced that most functions were offline, including her shields. Fortunately, the computer was able to give her information regarding her injures. When the grim news reached her ears, a wave of nausea washed over her body. The leg was putrefying, and the operational mechanisms in both her armor and body were working frantically to keep the rest of her alive.

"This is Commander Shepard," she spoke into her helmet's communication system, "I'm requesting help; pick-up, medical aid. Is anyone out there? Does anyone read me?" Her reply was static. She tried tapping to every frequency she could think of, sending her distress signal, but each time she was met with the same devastating silence.

Her gaze lifted to the sky, watching the ghoulish atmosphere languidly swirling above. There was no escaping the action that she would have to take if she was to survive. With much effort and a pained wince, she shifted her position to choose her pistol from her back. She fired a shot to her right to check its functionality before pressing the end of the barrel against an exposed stretch of skin on her mid-thigh. For a while she did nothing, holding the gun with both hands and making small adjustments to her aim. Mordin's voice filled her thoughts.

"Evolution, a marvelous thing. Powerful force that drives organisms to survive beyond expected capacity."

How would the salarian have executed this delicate procedure? What ammunition would he have used, at least? Shepard changed the cryo to incendiary with uncertainty, and after a few long moments, changed it back. Her eyes were wide and wild.

"Limb must be removed, no other option. Survival is essential. Sacrificing part of the body for the whole gives the organism a chance to adapt and ultimately persist."

She set the pistol down and brought her omni-tool's blade out instead, hovering over the flesh while continuing to pretend that Mordin was by her side and advising her.

"Need to ensure that the patient won't bleed to death. Incendiary ammunition preferred route. Wound carbonizes instantly."

Shepard retrieved her pistol once more, switching over to incendiary. "I am a soldier", she said to herself. "I am Commander Shepard. I have been to places and seen things that I would never wish upon my worst enemies. This is nothing. This is absolutely nothing at all." She shut her eyes tightly, drawing in slow, deep breaths. "Do it. Do it. Do it now. You'll die for certain if you don't. You've come this far, you've survived the Reapers, and you're not going to die now. Do it."

She pulled the trigger, lighting up the dreary air with a bright flash of orange-yellow and a burst of scorching heat. The igneous bolt exploded in her leg, instantly sending roasting flesh curling up into withering, blackened strips. A scream was strangled out of her throat and the weapon sipped out from her fingers, clattering onto the ground as her body convulsed in agony. Her fingers curled, palms scraping involuntarily across dirt and debris, and she shook in the grip of a cold sweat; shuddering, sobbing, and twisting about in utter turmoil. She dragged her body backwards, desperate to free herself from the blighted limb. Bile was burning in her throat through the incessant surges in her stomach and head, and when she had succeeded in moving her body a few feet, she slipped out of consciousness, and regained it a few seconds later to the sight of the disfigured remainder of her leg still attached to the rest of her thigh by a piece of splintered, scorched bone and bleeding flesh clinging to its underside.

Shepard let out a cry, chest heaving before turning to her side where she emptied her stomach of any fluids that still remained in its starved contents. Her fingers clambered over the ground for her pistol. When she found it, she fired another round into her leg without a second thought, this time completely through. While the roasting muscles sealed over crudely, the scent of her own cooking flesh filled her nose before she blacked out. Her weak form hit the ground with a resounding thud.

:::

She flinched almost violently when she felt the hand on her arm. Liara was watching her with a sophisticated blend of concern and awareness; Shepard met her eyes and prepared to explain herself.

"Liara, I'll be all right," she said softly. Her voice was almost comatose in nature, and certainly lacking in assurance.

"I know," came the disbelieving reply. The expression in Liara's knowledgeable eyes indicated that she was most likely not agreeing with her statement; rather, she was telling her that she was aware of something else entirely.

"I'm just sort of shaken up still."

"I know, Shepard," she said soothingly. "We're all a bit shaken up, but I understand that you've probably taken the hardest hits." Liara gently ran her fingertips against the back of her hand. "It's all right. We have time to sort ourselves out now, and it's only fair that you be allowed as much as you need."

Shepard nodded, letting out a long breath. She shook her head temperately while looking at the blades of grass before her. "It won't take long," she looked over at her. "I just need to clear my head. Give me a few days and I'll be just fine, I promise."

"I can't stay here very long, Shepard, so I hope that will be true. I need to leave tomorrow, to go help with the mass relays. The Reapers may be gone, but we're still in the middle of a crisis. I admit that I am not a physicist, but the height of Prothean technology yielded some devices and schematics that greatly resemble the relays, and I'm certain that I can be of help. Also, if you add a few of the discoveries made while engineering the Crucible, I think we can get the relays up and running even before you get your new leg," she smiled at Shepard, who was beginning to relax. "That is, if we work intensively over the next few weeks. An assembly of all the greatest minds within the next few star systems is vital. I'm actually reading up on some scientists and engineers right now, if you were wondering. Unfortunately, I'm finding that a lot of them perished during the invasion. This may be a lot more difficult than I initially estimated. But we'll get it done, I'm sure. I'm sorry Shepard. That means I won't be around to take care of you and pat you on the back in the meantime." She gave her a jocund smirk.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "The insinuation being that I depend on you."

"Yes. You depend on me greatly, whether you've accepted that truth or not."

The commander sat defeated beneath the assertive nature of her words spoken with irrefutable certainty. Liara had said them with such finality, as if any argument against them would be instantly perceived as completely inadequate. Her thoughts lingered on this and on Liara's recent disposition in general, which had been constantly evolving into something that transcended even her power as the Shadow Broker and part of the team that essentially saved the galaxy. While everyone seemed to be catching their breath, trying to heal their wounds, Liara was still running forward with long strides, immediately busying herself with mountains of tasks the very moment she escaped the warzone. It was incredibly strong of her, and humbling to see.

"You change often for an asari, Liara," Shepard concluded at length, both admiration and vexation leaking from her lips in a strange mix.

"Well, I need to," Liara replied with simplicity. "I identify what is needed from me and I attend to it. And, well, I now feel a little less guilty leaving you for longer amounts of time because you don't need me like you used to."

Shepard's good humor took a sudden dive. Perhaps she felt that her honor or strength was being threatened, or perhaps she felt that Liara was now unnecessarily rubbing it in to an extent that made Shepard wonder if she intended to provoke a reaction. Regardless, she didn't feel like lying down to her words so easily. Am I honestly that insecure about my own capabilities? Shepard's brow furrowed as the question crossed her mind. She then changed the wording of the thought to better suit a query. "You really think I was that dependent on you?"

"Oh, Shepard, please. You were absolutely unraveling. I don't think I have to remind you of the circumstances that I base my conclusion on. The fact was that we needed you. We all knew that if this war was going to be won, it was going to be by your hands. I needed you, and you needed me and everyone else just as much. So I put down my monitors for a period of time every day to make sure that you succeeded. I was constantly watching you, appearing when you were troubled in hopes that I could alleviate some of your burden, even when I had my own set of problems. At any cost, we needed to have you up in front, leading this war, in the best condition that you could possibly have."

She grew quiet with a grim expression that darkened her features. Great waves of doubt were eroding the edges of her heart, and she couldn't understand why they were crumbling with such ease. "So, what, was I just a tool? A weapon you needed to use against the Reapers? So what was lovemaking, a strategic way of boosting my morale before dangerous missions?" Shepard immediately regretted saying her last sentence, and was not even sure if she truly bore any insecurity of that sort. The idea still chilled her, however.

"I had a feeling you would go there," Liara sighed. "You misunderstood me. I really did love you, and I still do. Don't you dare doubt that. I just perhaps love the galaxy more than your personal comfort after the matter, which we're obviously dealing with right now. If I had to sacrifice my own present convenience and your present pride to have gotten you off your feet, I'd do it. I did do it. And I would do it again."

"It feels almost like lying, to be honest."

"I wasn't lying. I never lied. I meant every single thing I said, even though some of it seemed to be a little sacrificial of my ego to you and to others. It's no secret that some of my species is known for great vanity, but humans are just as well known to have tremendous egos. Don't give me that look, let me finish. I try not to have a large ego myself. It becomes a problem when you are faced with necessary duties that may make you do things that your ego doesn't agree with. My job was to help get us to the battlefield prepared, to help provide the Crucible, and to get Commander Shepard ready for whatever she needed to do, at any cost. So I did what needed to be done. People may think lowly or weak of my character for genuinely realizing the gravity of the task presented to me, and that's perfectly fine. But you know, in the end, I see that they still have the ability to perceive me in any way at all, and so I suppose my job is done."

Any rebuttal that Shepard might have had forming in her head was silenced by the end of Liara's elaboration. Shepard was not unintelligent. She knew that she possessed a skilled and busy wit, but it always seemed to pale a few shades whenever compared to the machinations of Dr. T'Soni's adept mind. Her intellect was certainly one of the reasons why she had been attracted to her in the first place, after all; there was always something to be learned, something to be said, something to be asked, or ideas that she hadn't heard before, whether their roots lied in cultural differences or in the contrast of their individual personalities. They sat beside one another in silence for a few minutes before Shepard asked the hushed question of, "What are you going to be tomorrow, Liara?"

She smiled reticently, feeling that the ill mood had passed into something calmer, with more relief. "Whatever the galaxy requires of me. And that happens to be a scientist, which I'm very good at. And what will you be, Shepard?"

"Just a veteran, I suppose. My job is pretty much done, after all. But maybe not. Maybe… maybe I can volunteer at the hospital. Make myself useful."

"I bet the patients would love to see you there," Liara extended a hand to affectionately tuck a loose strand of hair behind Shepard's ear. "Your presence might help recoveries, actually. Positivity is an excellent healer."

Shepard's eyes had subtly brightened at Liara, and she was drawn in by some electromagnetic instinct that was probably only perpetuated by the touch of an asari with whom one had previously bonded with. She kissed her, only pulling away so that she could press their foreheads together. Strands of hair bent between the contact, casting down and intercepting the exchange of gazes.

:::

She was weightless. The drone of an engine comforted her fading conscience.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Williams. We've got Shepard. Which hospital is nearest to our location? All right. Let's go! Get Shepard some medical attention! No, I don't know how the hell she got here! Just – someone help me get her armor off. Fuck, what did she do to her leg?"

Shepard drifted in and out of awareness, only registering brief intervals of her environment. She heard their voices, their fretting over her. She heard Ashley radioing multiple people and using familiar names.

"This woman is absolutely immortal," Ashley said at one point, nearly sounded offended at the Commander's ability to survive. Around her, people in the shuttle were talking about Akuze, Shepard's temporary two-year death, and the events at hand with great wonder; if any moment in fathomable history could properly represent the sheer resilience of organic life, it was this very one.