All Shepard could think about was a hot shower to wash away the heat and dirt of the day. It had been several months since she'd been rescued from the rubble within the Citadel. She'd been lucky. When the Citadel launched the beam to eradicate the Reapers it had begun to break apart. The Keepers had been able to stabilize the station and begin repairs before anyone arrived to assess the situation. Shepard was stuck somewhere on the Citadel, however, where was completely unrecognizable. Somehow the ceiling had not collapsed in on her, but she didn't know how long it would hold. Her omni-tool had been transmitting an emergency beacon for at least a day before she heard voices echoing as they worked to pinpoint her location. She'd spent hours staring at a hole in the ceiling above her and as the voices grew louder and more coherent, she found herself unable to tear her gaze away. A face finally poked through; light from some source out of view illuminated the asari's pale blue features. When Liara spoke Shepard's name a wave of energy washed through her body. Had she not already been pinned down it might have knocked her over.

Every day Shepard thought about that moment. Even when the Reapers plagued her nightmares, somehow her subconscious would remind her that she had lived; materializing Liara's face, illuminated and calling her name. A chime on her omni-tool tore her from her thoughts. A delayed message had finally come through. Communications had been slowed from damaged relays, comm buoys, and heavy traffic. She stared at the blinking notification for a few beats before finally pressing play. The message crackled to life.

[Shepard, I'll be late tonight. Some intel came through about that damaged section of comm buoys I was telling you about. There's a lot of information to wade through and I know I won't get it all done tonight but, I want to get a head start. Don't forget to eat. And take your meds. I love you.]

The room felt eerily quiet after Liara's voice abruptly cut off. She would eat and take her meds, but she needed a shower first. Ever since her recovery Shepard had insisted on returning to active duty. Alliance command had agreed, but on the condition that she would lead refugee and recovery relief operations. It had been hard to accept that, at least for the time being, she could not help with any combat situations. While she was physically capable, her psychological state was shaky at best. She'd not wanted to accept the PTSD diagnosis, but her rational mind agreed with the doctors. Even so, leading the thRe-Ops* teams had given her a sense of purpose and grounded her in the reality that the Reapers were gone. It was helping, little by little.

Shepard made her way to the bathroom, peeling off layers of dirt and sweat encrusted clothing. She stopped in front of the mirror and stared at the jagged scar on her abdomen, fingers brushing the gnarled flesh. Her eyes then traveled over the rest of her body and she laughed quietly at the dirt disguised as a farmer's tan. As she shifted to remove her bra the light caught her dog tags. She looked at their reflection in the mirror and took them in her hand. She held them up in front of her face, "You're alive," she murmured.

Shepard removed the last bit of clothing and leaned down to turn on the shower. The knobs were squeaky and the pipes rattled as she adjusted them for the right temperature: as hot as she could stand. This shower was an antique compared to what she'd previously had access to on the Normandy, but with resources being as thin as they were, and knowing that most people were using temporary shared facilities put in place by the Alliance, she was counting her blessings. Shepard stepped into the hot water, sighing with relief as she closed her eyes, feeling a sense of ease melt into her body.

As Shepard scrubbed soap into her hair she furrowed her brow at a familiar and terrifying sound. It was like a shrill squeal hammering into her mind. She gasped and froze. Banshee. She thought. Her heart was suddenly thundering in her ears, arms and legs shaking. Her chest rose and fell quickly from the heaving gasps of air she was attempting to slow. Her eyes darted around the small space just as the scream pierced her ears once more. Suddenly she was crouched in cover, watching helplessly as a soldier was snatched by a banshee. His bloodcurdling scream sent a shiver down her spine. And then she was running with Samara and dragging Falere, the terrible creatures screeching as they surrounded Rila. The horizon of Thessia was ablaze as she tried to support the commandos with suppression fire as they ran for cover, but a pair of the monstrosities quickly cut them off and snatched them up by their throats. The shrieks were deafening now as darkness fell around her. It was cold, wherever she was. Maybe it was Noveria? She wanted to run but she couldn't move. She reached for her gun but it was gone. There was nothing but darkness and the banshees' piercing calls. She was alone, defenseless. The terror creeped into her like a thousand spiders swarming her body. She thought maybe she had died on the Citadel and this was hell.

Just as Shepard thought all hope was lost, Liara's face took form before her very eyes. Light from some source out of view illuminated the asari's pale blue features and she called out to her. Shepard stared at Liara's lips as they moved in slow motion, no sound coming from them. All at once the banshees' cries subsided and Liara's voice emerged, "Shepard?" The warm melody of Liara's voice pushed the darkness back and nearly took her breath away. A surprising mixture of joy and relief replaced the heavy feeling of dread.

Liara pushed the shower curtain back and stared aghast for a brief moment at a huddled Shepard in the bottom of the tub. She was shaking profusely, teeth chattering, lips turning blue. Liara plunged her hand into the water and withdrew it quickly in shock, "Goddess, Shepard, this water is like ice!" Liara wasted no time in turning the water off and scooping up her shivering lover, all the while doing her best to ignore the panic quickly escalating inside her. "Th-th-th-there w-w-w-was a b-b-b-banshee..." Shepard managed to stutter out through her chattering teeth. Liara easily connected the dots. Shepard was having a flashback, brought on by something. Probably those whining pipes in the shower. She'd noticed herself the eery noise. How long had she been in there? "It's alright Shepard. You're safe, love. You're alive." Liara spoke softly as she toweled Shepard dry. The comforting words were as much for her as they were for Shepard. She quickly but carefully dressed Shepard in the warmest clothes she could find: an oversized Alliance Navy sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants, and mismatched socks. She didn't have a hat but, Shepard's hair was still wet. She wrapped her hair in a dry towel somewhat clumsily. It would have to do.

Shepard was slowly coming to as Liara wrapped her in blanket after blanket, "...Liara...?" Her voice was quiet and didn't really sound like her own. It almost felt as if she was outside of her body. She was afraid but strangely calm. Liara knelt down in front of Shepard and searched her eyes. They seemed focused elsewhere, like they couldn't see her. "It's alright Shepard. You're having a flashback, but it's okay. It's not really happening again." She tilted her head as Shepard finally met her gaze. "You're in our apartment with me, sitting on our bed. Can I touch you?" Shepard nodded and Liara cupped her face. It was still quite cold, but slowly beginning to warm. It took great restraint to hold herself together. These moments were terrifying for both of them. The name Shepard had become synonymous with words like fearless, selfless, and hero, but even heroes have a breaking point. Liara felt hot tears trickle over her thumbs. Shepard's eyes were averting hers, trying desperately to remain open wide to keep the tears from gushing forth. "It's alright, Shepard. Everything is going to be okay." Liara soothed. Shepard finally closed her eyes and leaned into Liara's touch, allowing the tears to spill down her cheeks. "I'm-m s-sorry." Shepard managed, voice cracking with emotion. "Don't be," Liara replied, "it's okay to feel. It will get better. One day at a time, right?" Shepard nodded. "I'm-m aliv-ve." She said. "You're alive." Liara agreed, managing a smile despite the shattering pain she felt deep within her.

"Now. How about some hot soup?" Liara asked with a kindness in her voice reserved only for Shepard. "Yes. And m-my m-meds." Shepard replied weakly, but sounding more like herself. Liara nodded and smiled gently. She turned and headed for the small kitchen. By the time she got there she was shaking herself. Her hands fumbled with all the adrenaline still coursing through her body. "Goddess," she whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks. It was hard to watch someone like Shepard, so proud and so strong, go through something so difficult. Liara covered her mouth in time to stifle the sob she could no longer contain. There was no enemy to fight to fix this. Shepard was taking her meds, going to therapy. "What's that human expression? Time heals all wounds?" Liara whispered as transferred the hot soup to two bowls and placed them carefully on a tray along with two mugs of hot coffee and Shepard's meds. She took a deep breath and quickly wiped the tears from her face and cleared her throat. Shepard had been strong for her on so many occasions. I've got to be strong for her, now. She thought. Her arms trembled slightly as she slowly carried their dinner back into their room.

Shepard had moved to sit cross-legged, back against the headboard of the bed. She was still wrapped in the blankets but she had managed to free her forearms. Liara placed the tray on the bedside table and handed Shepard a mug of coffee and the little plastic cup holding her meds. Shepard stared at the pills. She was used to taking meds from her time in military; pills to prevent disease, boost immune systems, counteract side effects from toxic exposure. These were different. These pills represented an invisible illness, an injury to her psyche that not even she could fully comprehend. "It's not a weakness, it's an injury." Liara recited one of the mantras they had come to live by. Shepard glanced up at Liara, noticing the puffy purple blotches around her eyes. A wave of guilt combined with embarrassment rose up from her gut. Shepard felt her face flush. They'd had this discussion plenty of times. Shepard felt lucky to have a partner like Liara. Despite Liara's infinite understanding and patience, Shepard could not shake the feelings of shame she experienced every time this happened. After a moment she finally responded with a curt nod, tossed the meds back, and washed them down with a long gulp of coffee. "Ahh that heat feels good." Shepard sighed trying to let go of her humiliation as she wrapped both hands around the hot mug and held it close to her body. Liara slipped into bed next to her and sipped carefully on the hot drink in her hands.

After a few moments of quiet Shepard broke the silence, "I'm starting to feel better. Thank you." She was still shivering, but not nearly as fiercely as before. Liara responded by resting her head against her. "Good," she said, with relief clearly in her voice. It was moments like these she was reminded just how deeply she cared for Shepard. As difficult as it was to watch her endure, she knew it was even worse from Shepard's point of view. What she wouldn't give to share some of this burden. "I think I should take baths from now on." Shepard said just before sipping her coffee again. "I can run them for you, if you'd like." Liara replied. "That may be for the best." Shepard sighed after a brief pause. "It was terrifying, Liara. I was jumping back and forth between lived experiences, and nightmares my brain was conjuring on the fly. And that sound." Shepard shuddered trying to block the memory. It clung to her like a dark oily substance, soaking into her skin, forever staining her. Liara nodded, remaining quiet, wanting to allow Shepard this time to vocalize her experience. "But," Shepard started, "it wasn't real." She said almost as if she was trying to convince herself. Liara nodded again, this time catching Shepard's eyes. "You're going to be alright, Shepard. Take your time." Shepard stared into Liara's eyes. She remembered the asari's head poking through the hole in the ceiling that she'd stared at for hours when she was still trapped on the Citadel. She could see the way the light fell over the curve of her face, and the curve of her crest. A warm feeling began to spread within her. She felt the tears welling up again and her throat burned with the effort to contain them. Liara watched Shepard's grassy eyes as they blinked, a feeling of immeasurable love overcoming her as tears slipped over her bondmate's pink cheeks. Shepard allowed a small smile to escape, "Yes. I'm going to be alright." She didn't really know if she believed it or if she ever would be, but she wanted to.

/end

*thRe-Ops - pronounced "three ops" stands for the three words beginning with "Re" in the name of the task force Shepard leads: The Refugee and Recovery Relief Operations Task Force. Some smart ass salarian kid in the task force (whom Shepard begrudgingly adores) came up with it, since the whole name is a mouthful, and it stuck.