Character(s): Commander Nolan Shepard & Dr. Liara T'Soni.

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing. The Mass Effect series belongs solely to BioWare and EA.

This piece occurs in the same universe as (1) Wishful Thinking,(2) Elevator Revelations, (3) Prometheus, and (4) To Build A Home. This is a sort of behind-the-scenes look at what might have happened after Mordin's death, but also stands as testament to my ManShep's friendship with Liara.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Please, no flames.

Enjoy.

No Exit

oOoOo

There were so many things he didn't like about his face.

His haggard expression and hollow eyes, the forgotten stubble and the shadows that filled his face's nooks and crannies . . .

All of these things he took into consideration as he drank in the sight of his reflection.

Despite appearances, fear had become his ever-present companion. He was now afraid of so many things; afraid of closing his eyes for fear of what he might see in his dreams, afraid of letting his friends go out of sight for fear of not being there to save them when they needed him most, and afraid that everything he was now doing and working towards would ultimately be all in vain.

And he couldn't help but wonder: Where was Tali in all of this chaos? Since before the fall of Earth, he'd neither heard heads nor tails of the quarian machinist that had laid claim to his heart.

It seemed that there were more questions than answers. Could he end a cycle that had lasted for millennia? And the Reapers were so knowledgeable, they were like unto gods to organics . . . Could he, in effect, kill a god?

So saying, he looked deeply into his haunted eyes and disliked what he saw there. I can do this, he told himself firmly. I know I can . . . I have to.

Suddenly reminded of the kindly face of an elderly salarian, he felt his strength abandon him. Ah, Shepard, said the chipper voice in his mind's eye. Perfect timing. So glad you are here.

He was forced to grab the sides of the sink in order to support himself as he endured another yet another crippling blow.

"Stop it," he whimpered pleadingly. He knew that he was beginning to lose it, and so tried to hold onto it all the harder . . .

No apologies. Did what was right . . . Hope you do the same, if necessary. . . .

Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong . . .

Suddenly and without warning, he lunged. His fist slammed into the mirror, sending a jolt of pain up his arm amid the initial crash and the soft tinkle of glass as it fell to the floor. When he drew away his bloodied hand, he also drew away tiny shards of glass that had been embedded in his knuckles.

He daren't look at the shards that lay on the ground and see dozens upon dozens of tiny reflections returning his haggard gaze.

Pain intermingled with his maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, wherein it released a small measure of relief.

Just then, a voice interrupted his disjointed stream of thoughts.

"Nolan?"

It was Liara.

He swore, and moved quickly to wash the blood off his hands. Then, he grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around his injured hand. He'd have to deal with the glass later, after he took care of his unexpected guest.

The door slid open and he slowly emerged, only to be welcomed to the sight of a worried-looking Doctor Liara T'Soni standing near the cabin's entrance.

The moment he emerged, she sprang upon him. "Oh, thank the Goddess! What happened? I thought I heard a crash and—" She noticed the bloody towel immediately. Her worry, emphasized most by her deeply-furrowed brow, instantly morphed into a darkly sort of concern, and she moved to intercept him, as if she feared he'd simply push past and avoid her altogether.

"Did you do that to yourself?" she asked softly, and in an oddly thick voice, gesturing towards his injured hand.

"I'm fine, Liara," he lied, avoiding the question entirely. He raised his eyes just enough to meet hers, struggling to stifle the rage that'd been coursing through his veins only moments prior. Her cerulean eyes clearly decried her disbelief in his words, so he added, speaking more through his teeth than ever before and with no real effect, "Really."

At first, she said nothing, examining him instead for any signs of deceit. He felt as if he was once again some sort of science experiment that should be watched and studied, one whom she found infinitely fascinating, so it seemed. It invariably reminded him of when they'd first talked aboard the original Normandy and before the fires of war had forged them into steadfast friends. Then, she crossed her arms over her chest, and said, rather shortly, "No. You're not."

Oh, how she'd grown. No longer was she the naïve woman he'd rescued on Feros, helpless and easily filled with grief upon being told of the death of her mother, Matriarch Benezia.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck with his uninjured hand, and decided that it was high time he changed the subject. "Is there something you needed?" he asked with just a hint of irritation, drawing attention instead to her unexpected presence.

She went on the defensive almost immediately, even having the courtesy to blush. "I wanted to see how you were doing." She paused. "Garrus said that you were taking Mordin's death badly, but I never thought . . ."

He frowned. Damn it, Garrus.

Her concern touched him, and he felt his anger begin to dissipate. It reminded him of all the times he'd checked on her after Matriarch Benezia's death, Feron's rescue, and her assumption of the Shadow Broker's persona. At the time, he thought it'd be emotionally difficult to resist the temptation of knowledge, but now having the Shadow Broker on his side was a definite bonus.

"No more than usual," he admitted with a sigh.

She nodded, absorbing his words, and then gestured to his hand again. "Here," she said gently. "You'd better let me tend to that."

"Are you sure?" he asked dubiously. "I could always go down to the med-bay."

"True," she conceded, "but only if you're feeling up for one of Doctor Chakwas's lectures."

The minute she suggested it, it occurred to him how many questions that Doctor Chakwas would ply him with in order to discover how he'd injured his hand this time. And if she ever found out that he'd done it to himself, she'd be livid. And he knew from experience that a livid Doctor Chakwas was almost as formidable as an asari commando.

"Point taken," he conceded, suddenly and extremely uncomfortable about letting Doctor Chakwas know what he'd done.

Smiling faintly in recognition of her victory, she led him to the bed, ordered him to sit, and then proceeded to ransack his bathroom in search of some tweezers. Having successfully found them, she returned to his side and kneeled beside him, taking his hand in her own and giving him a warning look.

"Ready?" she asked. "And remember: This might hurt a bit."

"Liara," he said slowly. "I died. Remember? What can possibly hurt more than that?"

She smiled upon realizing that he was teasing her, but quickly sobered. "There are some things worse than death," she told him. "Remember that. Now, are you ready?"

He sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Good." And with that, she began to fish out the shards of glass from the flesh around his knuckles, and he cringed and hissed in pain. He squirmed in his seat and she glared at him.

"By the Goddess," she said, "stop being such a child."

"I can't help it," he protested with a sheepish look. "It kinda hurts."

"As you've already pointed out, you've endured worse," she told him dryly. "Now, please, sit still!"

Properly chastened, he tried to remain still as she finished. Once done, she retired to the bathroom one last time, opened the medical cabinet found therein, and removed a roll of clean gauze. Slowly, she began to wrap it around his mangled hand, and he watched her with rapt attention. She performed this simple action with such carefulness and concentration that he was genuinely touched.

"There," she announced. "All done."

He clenched and unclenched his hand to test it, and was pleased with the results.

"Thanks, Liara. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Shepard," she replied. "This is what friends are for. As Garrus would say, they are the ones who pick you up and dust you off after you've momentarily stumbled. Now, I really must be getting back to my office. I'm currently in the process of locating a group of for-hire mercenaries that were stranded in Reaper-controlled space. I believe that they may prove a valuable war asset to have."

So saying, she turned around and began to leave.

Shepard grinned. "What would I ever do without you, Liara?" he asked.

Liara froze and fixed him with an oddly empty look that made his heart clench painfully. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be dead," she said softly. Then, she left.

And even as he was left with an empty cabin for company, he couldn't help but acknowledge that she was right. If it wasn't for her, he'd still be dead and just a memory.

Please, read and review to let me know what you think. I mean, come on, I love random messages. ;-)