Author's note: This chapter has gone through so many rewrites, I've lost count. I'm still not 100% satisfied with it, but I guess that's life. As always, your input (both positive and negative) is greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect is owned by Bioware and Microsoft.

Rise Above or Sink Below

Chapter Seven

In the stillness of her quarters, Annika Shepard studied herself in the mirror. Turning her head from side to side, she frowned at what she saw. The Commander tucked her smooth red hair behind her ears, and let out a heavy sigh. "I look like hell."

Liara sat on the bed behind the Commander, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Shepard," she responded, "there is nothing wrong with your appearance."

"Are you blind?" Shepard quipped, as she leaned in close to her reflection. "My eyes are bloodshot, my hair is a mess, my face…" Shepard's voice trailed off as she began rummaging through a drawer below the mirror.

"You are creating needless anxiety for yourself," Liara pleaded, rising up to stand beside the Commander.

"Needless?" Shepard balked. "You may not have to worry about these things, but I do." The Commander pulled a brush out of the drawer, and began hastily running it through her hair. "Were you listening to me earlier? The goddamn 'Savior of the Citadel' can't go out in public looking like she just had an emotional…… meltdown."

Liara reached out and placed a hand on the Commander's shoulder. "Perhaps you are still experiencing some effects of your panic attack."

The Commander dropped her brush back in the drawer, and slammed it shut. "Spectres don't…… oh, forget it."

"Spectres don't… what?"

Shepard shuffled past the Asari, and sank into her desk chair. "I said forget it, OK?"

The desk monitor flickered to life, displaying a live feed from the navigation computer. Two icons representing the Normandy and Eden Prime were nearly on top of eachother. They were almost there. Shepard stared at the screen and absently rapped her fingers on the table top.

Don't worry, Commander. I don't regret a thing.

"Can I…" Shepard mumbled, staring at the projection in front of her, "Can I ask you something, Liara?"

"What is it, Shepard?"

"You have to promise to be honest with me."

"Always."

"Do you think I deserve to be called a hero?"

The bluntness of the question apparently caught Liara off guard. "Of… of course, you do," she sputtered, clumsily sitting back down on the bed. "Shepard, you saved the entire-"

"No, I didn't," Shepard retorted, cutting Liara off mid-sentence. "Everyone keeps saying that… but it's not true. I didn't save the galaxy. At best, I only delayed an invasion. And I didn't even do it alone. If it wasn't for you, Tali, Williams…… Kaiden…"

Liara wistfully shook her head at the Commander's words. "I do not need to be called a hero to feel proud of what we accomplished, and I am certain that Tali and Chief Williams feel the same as I."

"That's just it!" Shepard snapped, spinning her chair around to face the young Asari. "I don't need to be called a hero either… I don't even want to be called a hero."

"I apologize, Shepard. I did not mean to imply-"

"All of those people… waving flags, clappings hands, cheering me on… they have no idea. They have no fucking idea who I am."

"They are-"

"Yesterday, I saw a man in the wards selling t-shirts with my face on them. And people were buying them! If they only knew…"

"Knew what?"

"That I'm not a savior of anything, Liara. It's a lie. It's a joke being told to trillions, and I'm the punch line."

"The punch line?"

"I'm just sick of it. I'm not the superhero everyone wants me to be, and I can't…" Shepard buried her head in her hands, "I can't fake it anymore."

"Please… Just try to-"

"What, Liara? Try to what?" Shepard hissed, snapping her head up to face the Asari.

Liara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Raising her hand, she pressed the palm against her forehead. "Why do you insist on thinking such self destructive thoughts?"

"Self destructive thoughts?" Shepard groaned.

"You are intentionally trying to cast yourself in a negative light," Liara answered, standing up, "and you have been doing so all day."

Don't let the spotlight you're under blind you…

The words echoed in the Commander's head. "Maybe I am," she said under her breath.

"Why?"

"I don't know… I don't know!" Shepard snapped. "We 'joined,' didn't we?"

"I… Yes… but…"

"You downloaded everything I know, right? Can't you just 'embrace eternity,' and answer your own question?"

"That is not how…" Liara cut herself off, and her eyes widened in surprise, "You are mocking me, Shepard."

"Oh, give me a break!" Shepard sighed heavily, leaned forward, and buried her head in her hands once more. "No, I'm not."

Liara's posture stiffened, and her eyes narrowed. When she spoke, it was with an air of detachment Shepard hadn't heard in a long time. "Yes, you are," she stated, "and by pushing me away when I get too close, you are also doing precisely what I asked you not to do."

Shepard's gaze fell to the floor as she slowly shook her head in denial. Liara was right, and she knew it. Yet she said nothing.

Liara stood motionless, seemingly waiting for a response from Shepard. When none came, she turned, and headed for the door. "Very well," she said, her voice calm but cold, "I see no point in continuing this conversation any further. I will meet you on the hangar deck when we land, Commander."

Commander?

Shepard's gaze remained fixed to the floor until she heard the door to her quarters slide open. "Liara, wait…" she called. The Asari kept walking, and the door slid shut, leaving the Commander alone.

Shepard's heart sank down into her boots. She sat motionless, her lover's words echoing in her mind. "What the hell just happened?" she whispered. The only other time she had ever seen Liara visibly angry was back on Noveria, when she tried and failed to stop her mother from destroying herself.

How could I have been so callous?

She felt a familiar tightness return to her chest, and her head began to throb. The lights in the room seemed to flicker and darken, and she had the vague sensation of the walls beginning to close in around her.

Nope… no way… get a hold of yourself, soldier.

Shepard tried to slow her breathing, to calm the building storm. But no matter how deeply she inhaled, she couldn't seem to catch her breath.

Goddamnit, no!

It was happening again. There was a roaring in her ears, as if an unseen tidal wave was about to come crashing down on her. Shepard rose, staggered across the room, and grabbed a small silver cylinder out of the drawer. She clenched it in her hand, her thumb hovering over the inject button. Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard glimpsed her reflection in the mirror.

She froze.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" she asked the empty room, as the pounding in her head grew stronger. For a moment, the face of a much younger Shepard, her face smeared with blood and ash, stared back at her from the mirror. Behind the young woman, a massive wall of water was approaching, and about to break. The Commander closed her eyes tight, forcing the image out of her thoughts.

The sound of the door sliding open caught Shepard off guard, nearly causing her to drop the medication. Her eyes snapped open, and she spun around in surprise.

As abruptly as she had walked out, Liara strode back into the room with a determined look on her face. "Twice in your life, you have had everyone close to you taken away," she stated matter-of-factly, "once on Mindoir, and once on Akuze."

"What… what did you say?" Shepard balked, stuffing the cylinder into her pocket. "Didn't you just storm out of here?"

Liara walked up to Shepard, locking eyes with her. "Having singularly survived those combined tragedies, you have developed a defensive personality disorder that compels you to isolate yourself from others. The logic being that if you keep everyone at arm's length, you will not have to suffer the pain of loss again. Remarkably, you are able to keep this compulsion suppressed most of the time. However, the funerary nature of our mission, and the memories of Lieutenant Alenko, among others, that it evokes, have left you in an emotionally weakened state. When the unexpected media presence you are now forced to confront is factored in, it becomes apparent that the mental barriers you put in place long ago have collapsed, allowing this aspect of your personality to rapidly strengthen, and gain influence over your conscious mind."

Shepard stared blankly at the Asari a moment, her brow wrinkled in confusion. "You uhhh… you got all of that from sleeping with me?"

"Actually… no." Liara answered, suddenly self-conscious. "I… came up with most of it while waiting for the elevator."

"Oh."

"It is frustratingly slow."

"Yeah."

Liara stepped closer. "Shepard… our joining gave me echoes of emotion, memories wrapped in shadow, but little with which to make a clinical analysis."

"Clinical analysis?"

"I've been studying human psychology… in my spare time."

"Oh."

"I thought it might be useful… not that I think you need psychological help. I…"

Shepard's eyes were stinging, and she blinked hard to keep her vision clear. "Liara," she said, "I'm sorry. I had no right to talk to you the way I did."

"And I had no right to walk out on you like I did," Liara answered, her eyes darting to the floor, "I should have been more understanding."

"I was the one who should've been more understanding. And technically," Shepard retorted, the slightest hint of a smirk forming in the corner of her mouth, "coming back in less than five minutes negates the walk out."

"I see," Liara chuckled, "I will remember that."

The Commander's shoulders sank as the tension left her body. Her head was still pounding, but the dizziness and shortness of breath was gone. She turned back to her reflection, slowly lowered her head, and idly fondled one of the brass buttons that ran down the front of her jacket. "What am I going to do, Liara?"

"You are going to do what you have always done," Liara responded, placing a hand on the Commander's shoulder, "persevere."

"I don't want to."

"But…"

"When I persevere, people die."

"More destructive thinking…"

"It's not the thinking that's destructive," Shepard sighed, "it's me. I'm destructive. My mother, my father, my squad on Akuze, Jenkins, Kaiden, most of the fifth fucking fleet, even my first girlfriend… all dead, because of decisions I made."

"Shepard…"

"Yet here I am, still standing. A hero… a savior… the irony is so think, I can barely breathe."

Liara opened her mouth to respond, but said nothing. Instead, she wrapped her slender arms around Shepard's waist, and rested her chin on the Commander's shoulder. Shepard reached down, intertwining Liara's fingers with her own. Returning her lover's gaze in the mirror, she gently leaned her head against the Asari's.

"I… I do not know how to fix this," Liara said, sounding dejected.

"I know," Shepard answered, "but it's OK. You don't have to fix me, Liara."

The two women stood silently for some time, gazing at their reflected embrace. Minutes passed without either uttering a word, both content to simply remain in each other's arms. Liara eventually looked away, as if lost in thought, but Shepard barely noticed. As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering; to the medical bay, and the casket within, to the fast approaching planet, and the circus that awaited her there.

"Shepard?" Liara asked, getting no response.

"Shepard…" Liara repeated, tightening her embrace.

"What?" she absently replied.

Liara lifted her chin off the Commander's shoulder, and brought her lips to Shepard's skin, leaving a trail of soft kisses up her neck. Stopping just below her lover's ear, she asked "do you trust me?"

Shepard felt the warm breath on her neck, and Liara's chest pressing gently on her back. Inhaling deeply, she let all other thoughts slip away, and concentrated solely on the sapphire goddess holding her close. Shepard shut her eyes, and for a moment, the darkness that swirled around inside her gave way to light. "With my life," she whispered back.

"Then trust me to get you through this."

Above their heads, the intercom crackled to life. "Five minutes to touchdown, Commander." Joker's voice filled the room, once again at the most inopportune time. Still holding on tight to the hands of her Asari lover, Shepard felt the intimacy of the moment evaporate.

"Take us in nice and easy, Joker," she stated. "Nothing fancy."

"Yes ma'am," he answered. "I'm not in a fancy mood anyway."

Shepard pulled herself away, and turned to face the suddenly confident Asari. "What are you talking about, Liara?"

A beautiful smile spread across Liara's face as she reached up, and laid a finger across Shepard's lips. "Trust me," she repeated. And with that, she turned and walked out the door.

Shepard stood motionless, confounded by her lover's sudden change in mood.

"Are you coming, Commander?" Liara called from the open doorway.

Shepard reached into her pocket, relieved to feel the cold steel cylinder within. "Coming…" she answered.

The elevator came to a stop with a muffled groan. In their last moment of privacy, Shepard turned to look at the Asari standing behind her. "Thank you, Liara."

"For what?"

"I don't know yet," she answered, "but thanks."

The locks disengaged, and the elevator doors opened, gradually revealing a cargo bay that barely resembled the one Shepard had left mere hours before. Everything from the floor, to the ceiling, to the tires on the Mako had been cleaned, and there wasn't a cargo crate or pallet in sight. Her crew, all wearing their dress uniforms, lined the far wall.

In the center of the room, the flag draped casket containing the body of Corporal Richard Jenkins floated serenely, surrounded on three sides by Shepard's honor guard.

"Commander on deck!" Pressly shouted, and in unison, everyone in the room snapped to attention.

Shepard could feel her command instincts kicking in as she strode out into the room. Returning Pressly's salute, she began to make her way down the line, giving each crewmember's appearance a cursory inspection. She did a quick double take when she reached Joker's place in line. It was the first time she could ever recall seeing him without his trademark stubble and baseball cap.

The young man shifted awkwardly on his crutches. "Ma'am," he nodded.

Shepard reached out, grabbed Joker's collar, and spun around his rank pin, which he had put on upside down. "Lieutenant…" she responded, flashing him the briefest of smiles.

The Commander made her way over to the casket, and took her place as the fourth and final pallbearer. Looking over her shoulder, she gave a quick nod to Pressly, who immediately keyed his omni-tool.

A moment later, the huge bay doors of the cargo bay began to open, and Shepard had to squint at the sudden rush of sunlight that flooded into the dimly lit room. As her eyes adjusted, she could see a gathering of twenty or so people in the distance, sitting in neat rows in the backyard of an old farmhouse. She could also see at least a dozen other people roaming around the perimeter of the yard, each with their own camera pods in tow. One by one, they all came to a stop, and turned their lenses on Shepard.

The cargo bay ramp came to rest with a thud, and the Commander's attention was immediately drawn away from the reporters, and onto two figures who were making their way up the ramp. One, Shepard instantly recognized as Leonard Jenkins. He walked with a stunted gait, and steadied himself with an old fashioned wooden cane. He was dressed in a tattered suit that, by the looks of it, was older than he was. He stared up at the Commander with an expression of pained anticipation.

Shepard met the old man's gaze, steeled herself as best she could for what was about to begin, and walked down to meet him.

"Leonard Jenkins…" Shepard stated, extending her hand.

"That's right," Jenkins responded, shaking the Commander's hand with a firmness that defied his fragile appearance. When their hands came together, Shepard heard a now familiar sound in the distance: the clicking of camera shutters.

"Mr, Jenkins, on behalf of the Systems Alliance, I offer my deepest - "

The old man raised his hand in a dismissive wave. "Save it, Commander." he barked. "Can we just get the ball rollin here?"

More camera clicks filled the Commander's ears. "Uhh… of course," she agreed, nodding her head a bit too vigorously. "If you want to have a seat, I'll lead the procession down to - "

"You led my boy to his death, Commander. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you didn't lead him to his grave too."

The old man's voice wasn't overly bitter or angry, but his words caught Shepard off guard nonetheless. She could feel her mouth moving, but no words were being spoken.

"Sorry, ma'am. Leonard was hoping he could be the lead pallbearer. He's just got a funny way of asking."

Until that moment, Shepard had unwittingly ignored the person standing beside Leonard Jenkins. She turned her head towards the familiar voice, and laid eyes on a wholly unexpected sight.

"Williams?"