The Headdress

For Zac

Liara hadn't taken her mother's headdress. If she couldn't be responsible for her body, she could have at least done that. It would have been something, as opposed to just walking away and leaving it for the asari government. Joker had notified her a team had been dispatched from Thessia before Shepard had even spoken to the Council.

Benezia had always commanded the highest of attention in life. Why should it be different in death?

She should have taken the headdress.

It had been in their family for several generations. As a child the history of it had fascinated Liara to the point she had traced its entire lineage back to the artist who had crafted it. She had identified it as an asari ceremonial headdress worn by ancient priestesses, a symbol of power and authority. The custom was long dead, which to Liara made Benezia seem all the more magical, as though she had somehow materialized from legend to bestow her wisdom upon the present. When she had offered up her findings, her astonished mother had been nearly speechless. It was, Liara supposed, the moment she discovered her fascination with the past. With beginnings.

The headdress itself was as grandiose in appearance as Benezia herself. It was made from a rare metallic ore from Mount Alori on Thessia, a place that had deep religious significance to their ancient culture. It felt like sandpaper under her fingers but was lightweight, with a dull sheen that gave off a dim glow in low light. The curved brow was inlaid with ancient asari script that Liara had researched tirelessly to translate, In light and wisdom we grow, in insulate darkness we fade. Words of the Goddess Athame.

The brow piece was bisected by a slender nasal bar shaped like V that rose above her head like crown, which in Liara's youth had struck her as more like the antenna of a bug. Narrow, elongated cheek guards covered her ears and rose up nearly to the height of the crown and extended almost the length of her neck. Benezia fitted it to a variety of ornate hoods she'd had designed specifically for it. Usually yellow, her favorite color, which had made the burgundy gown she'd been wearing on Noveria seem all the more out of place.

Liara had rarely seen her mother without it. Removing it would have made her death so unbearably real that she couldn't bring herself to do it. You're an adult, she reminded herself. Not a little girl. Maybe so, but when standing next to Benezia, Liara had always been a little girl. It was part of why she'd left.

When she was little she had begged her mother to let her try it on. The day she finally acquiesced Liara felt like the world had fallen at her feet. Benezia had draped her in one of her dress robes, so huge on her that it puddled around her feet. The headdress had nearly covered her eyes, too, and the fluted shanks that made her mother look so elegant came down almost to Liara's chest.

Liara had felt like royalty.

Benezia had smiled at her as she'd buttoned up the robe, tilted the headdress back so Liara could see better. There were so few moments when they could truly be mother and daughter. Liara may have been a child, but she was fully attuned to recognizing and cherishing those moments. This had been one, and she had held onto it so tightly the memory now was painfully vivid.

"Look at you," Benezia had said with such pride in her voice. "My little wing. You're growing so fast."

"Do I look like you?"

Benezia had tapped the tip of Liara's freckled nose with her finger. "You look like you," she had replied. "And that's even better."

Their estrangement had never been about hate. She could at least be thankful for that. But the rift between them had quickly become an insurmountable chasm neither knew how to cross. They had simply become two people who could no longer comprehend each other, bound to one another only by blood. Not until it was too late did she realize she was wrong.

"I have always been proud of you, Liara."

So much time wasted. It wasn't fair. And then in the end, when Benezia had opened her arms to reconcile with her daughter, Liara was forced to accept knowing what her mother had become. The woman everyone believed Benezia to be, the woman Liara had believed her to be, had been eradicated by Saren. Liara secretly hadn't believed it until she had come face to face with the horrors roaming the hotlabs: sentient, intelligent individuals kidnapped and raised into madness then forcibly euthanized – all because of her mother. Whatever Saren's hold on her had been, Liara could not deny that her mother had been directly responsible for the torture of the rachni and the lives of everyone who had perished at Peak 15 as a direct result.

It was more than she could bear.

A light flipped on in the darkened crew quarters. Startled, Liara sat up in her bunk and scrubbed the tears from her eyes. A crewman she didn't recognize stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed.

"Um, sorry sir. Was just going to catch a few minutes of shut eye between shifts."

Liara nodded and mumbled something in reply, collecting herself and leaving the room as quickly as possible. But once she had escaped into the hall she realized she had no idea where to go. The Normandy was so small, so crowded with people, all of them alien to her. She had spent the last fifty years of her life studying ruins, following the ghosts of a species long dead. Silence and solitude were something she had grown to embrace, and now when she needed it most it had been yanked away from her, leaving her floundering and exposed.

She made her way to the mess and found an empty table, sitting with her head down to discourage attention from the handful of servicemen sitting around eating and talking. While it may have been paranoia, she swore she could hear them start whispering the moment she sat down. Why wouldn't they? She was the alien whose mother had betrayed not just humanity, but every species in explored space, if Shepard was to be believed. They didn't trust her. Somehow believed she had bewitched Shepard into bringing her on board, just waiting for her chance to stick a knife in all of their backs.

I sacrificed my own mother for you, she wanted to scream. I led your commander to the woman who gave birth to me, and stood by while she was murdered in the name of justice. She wanted to walk over and shake one of them. Did they see her grief as evidence against her? My mother may have died a monster, but she was my mother, and goddess be damned I will mourn for her.

She covered her eyes with her hands until she had wrestled her emotions back under control. When she dared look up a young officer quickly looked away and resumed a feigned conversation with his tablemate. Mess Sargent Greico caught her eye.

"Getcha something?" he asked.

She shook her head, but a few minutes later he set a hot beverage cup in front of her.

"Tea," he said. "Not sure if asari drink it, but humans like it. It can be…relaxing."

She offered him a grateful smile, appreciating the kindness but hoping he would just leave her alone. Mercifully he did. She rested her chin on her hands and watched the steam waft above the rim of the mug.

What are you doing here, T'Soni?

Did she really think she could help? Somehow alter the forces at work in the universe? She had done what Shepard needed her to do. Expose her mother so she could be stopped. There was no reason she needed to stay. She was sure Shepard would drop her off somewhere if she asked. She could find a new dig site, continue on with her work.

Except she couldn't. Shepard had rendered her entire life's work irrelevant with one conversation. The mystery of the prothean's disappearance was solved. And any doubts she may have had about his claims had been effectively erased after Noveria. Her mother and her career gone in one fell swoop. Hell of a track record she had going.

She could always go back to Thessia. Assist with putting her mother's affairs in order. But there would be other people far more suited to that task than she was. And Thessia might be home, but in the end there was nothing for her there, either. She was too young to take her mother's place, and she had no desire to do so anyway.

There was a commotion on the other side of the room. She looked up warily to see the human pilot hobbling into the mess on his crutches, followed by the krogan.

"I feel like I need to wear an evac suit every time you're around," Joker was saying. "One of these days you're going to take a step and that krogan ass of yours is going to go right through the hull. I don't know about you but I hear being spaced puts a real damper on being alive."

"Then don't take shipbuilding advice from salarians," Wrex replied.

"First, the salarians literally have you by the balls. Second, turians built it, so double whammy for you there, and third, if we took shipbuilding advice from krogans we wouldn't so much be secretly tailgaiting Saren around the galaxy as leaving giant smoking craters because the ship's engines don't differentiate between 'dock' and "battering ram'."

Wrex shrugged, almost good naturedly.

To Liara's dismay they were making their way towards her. Joker gingerly eased himself onto the bench across from her, knocking his crutches to the floor. He swore, picked them up with a grimace, then propped them against the krogan who had taken a seat next to him.

"Hold these for me big guy," he said.

Wrex fixed him with a glare that made Liara shudder inside. "Human, I just ripped apart a few hundred rachni. And not the sane kind we fought during the wars. So if I were you I wouldn't get the idea that you're special."

"What, you think killing me gets you bragging rights? Come on, Pressly could break my spine. Besides, without me around Alenko's free to bore you to death while he ponders the meaning of life."

Liara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Is there something you need?"

They both stopped and looked at her, as though surprised to even find her there. Joker even flushed a little. "Ah, yeah. Sorry. Look, obviously we're not really the…sentimental type. But…." He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words for a moment before he recovered. "We just wanted to tell you that what happened down on Noveria looked a lot like bullshit. At least I want to tell you that. I don't know what this guy's deal is."

Wrex snorted. "Noveria wasn't bullshit. It was life."

"Yeah," Joker said, with a doubtful look, "but it was her mom."

"So?" Wrex asked. "Once I was invited to a Crush at the request of a warlord. Ancestral burial ground. Sacred place. The idea was to discuss the future of the krogan. Instead my men were ambushed and slaughtered like varren."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"The warlord was my father, and I sunk a knife into his chest."

There was a very deep, uncomfortable silence. Liara stood abruptly. "I have to go." She left the tea behind, steam still wavering above the rim.

There was nowhere to go. Various Normandy personnel were scattered about the crew deck. In the cargo bay Garrus and one of the Normandy techs were mulling over schematics to the Mako, looking for ways to provide more efficient thrusters. In engineering Tali and Adams were running maintenance diagnostics on the drive core. She thought about trying the conference room, but it was sealed off from non-authorized personnel, which apparently included Liara.

A well of anxiety and frustration welled up inside her. She came to a stop on the stairwell leading back to the crew deck and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. One strangled sob escaped her throat before she forced it back down.

Wrex may have stared down the barrel of his father's own gun and had the courage to strike back, but Liara had not. Her mother had not hesitated to attack them with a squad of fully trained commandos, but Liara had. Her biotics were formidable, but so were theirs, and they had weapons training she sorely lacked. On Noveria she had relied on her biotics, but when her singularity had failed she had been forced to rely on the swift reflexes of Shepard to cut down the commando who had been poised to empty a clip of incendiary rounds into her gut. And at the end, when the mother she knew had been truly lost to her, she had stepped back to let Shepard do what needed to be done.

She was my mother. As much as it would have hurt, it should have been me.

In a sudden burst of anger she slammed a fist against the wall. She immediately regretted it, cradling it to her chest while the wall remained unchanged.

Well. At least now she knew where she needed to go next.

Dr. Chakwas was scanning papers on turian physiology when Liara entered the medical bay. She took one glance at Liara cradling her hand and dropped the datapad.

"Liara," she said, standing and crossing the room in one fluid movement. "Are you all right?"

"It's nothing," Liara replied, now thoroughly embarrassed. "I just…."

Gently Chakwas took hold of her hand and she winced. "Doesn't seem like nothing. Let me take a look." She pulled out a diagnostic scanner to image her hand. "Mm. Looks like there are a few micro fractures. Don't worry. I can take care of it for you."

She sat Liara down on one of the medical beds and eased her damaged hand under a bone knitter. As she programed the running cycle she spared a brief glance up at Liara's face.

"How are you doing, Liara? I can't imagine how hard this has been for you."

Liara didn't know if it was the relief she felt in her hand once the knitter got to work, the doctor's concern or simply hearing a friendly, sympathetic voice. She burst into tears.

"I'm sorry," Chakwas said in a soft voice. She placed a comforting hand over Liara's uninjured one.

"No, I'm sorry," Liara insisted, trying and failing to keep the tremble out of her voice. "I'm ok. I'll be ok. I'm just not used…there's nowhere to…" She trailed off as a fresh set of tears spilled over, wiping them away with an angry swipe.

Dr. Chakwas gave her an understanding look. "You're accustomed to being on your own, and now you're stuffed inside this tiny ship trying to deal with the very unpleasant death of your mother. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Liara."

Liara stared angrily at her hand. "She taught me better than this."

"I don't think it's something you can really prepare yourself for," Chakwas said.

She looked up, an urgent thought crossing her mind. "Please don't tell Shepard about this."

Chakwas raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know what his plans were with me," Liara said. "After Benezia had been…dealt with, I mean. I don't want him to think I'm not up for this. I understand he's…" She searched for the right word, but failed. Shepard, quite simply, unnerved her. He was imposing with a sharp, abrupt demeanor that had no use for anything or anyone that wasn't straight to the point. But the first time they'd spoken, when he told her about the beacon, there had been something so vivid, so alive and vulnerable in his eyes that it had nearly taken her breath away.

But at every opportunity she'd shown him she was either weak or a fool. The thought of him seeing her like this was humiliating. She could handle scorn from Wrex, Garrus, even Williams, who seemed to hate aliens anyway. They were just faces, people she might leave behind and never see again anyway. But not Shepard.

Somewhere deep down she knew that he was the reason she had been able to face her mother at all, and it scared her a little.

"Shepard can be hard to read sometimes," Chakwas conceded. "He's a good man, but he keeps his distance. I'll admit it can be a challenge to work for him sometimes. But he's the most brilliant commander I've ever served with. There's a reason why the Alliance wanted him to be their first Spectre. And now that he is, he's sought out and surrounded himself with the best."

"That's not encouraging," she muttered.

Chakwas smiled a little. "It should be. Shepard doesn't have patience for people who can't make the cut. If he thought that described you, he would have left you on Noveria."

"Maybe," Liara said. "But that was before I tried to put my fist through a wall."

Chakwas chuckled. "I think it's fair to assume Shepard's fist has had a few encounters with immovable objects. And though he might not show it, he's gone through his fair share of dark times. I think he'll understand better than you think. You just need time and space. Time is what it is – you can't hurry it. But I think I can help you a little bit with some space."

Liara looked up somewhat hopefully.

"If you want to use my back office to just spend some time by yourself you're welcome to it. I've got plenty of space out here."

A wave of relief passed through her. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Chakwas patted her shoulder. "Take all the time you need. I'll see if I can requisition a cot for you, maybe get you out of crew quarters for a few nights."

"Really?"

"I just need to clear it with Shepard."

Her face fell just a little. Chakwas clucked her tongue. "Don't worry. I am your physician, after all. Shepard may command the ship, but when it comes to the crew's health, I have the last word."

"Thank you," Liara said gratefully.

The bone knitter cycle ended, and Chakwas escorted her to the back office. "Make yourself at home," she said, and then left her alone, shutting the door behind her.

Silence.

Liara sat down in a chair, gazing at the clutter of datapads and coffee cups on Dr. Chakwas's desk.

She stared at her hand. So stupid. Her mother had been wrong about a lot of things, but not everything. Liara still had a lot to learn, something Benezia had reminded her of often. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and wept. She wept until her eyes were red and her throat raw.

If she had stayed home, would it have been different? Could she have kept her mother in check somehow? If she had loved her mother more, could she have stopped this?

Had she cared more about the dead than the living?

Liara thought again of that headdress, how it had gone from a source of reverence in her childhood to something she had resented as an adult. Benezia had worn it to demonstrate her strength, her control. But in the end she had been weak and overpowered.

How could she have been so wrong about Saren? Liara had never known Benezia to be swayed by anyone. So what had made Saren different? Even if in an overestimation of herself she had joined him in hopes of restraining him, she had been woefully overmatched. Failure was something Liara had never associated with her mother, but Benezia had failed as catastrophically as one could possibly fail. She had allowed him to take a strong, wise, powerful woman and turn her into a murderer, and if she had been allowed to continue, an accessory to genocide. Liara shivered. If Benezia, the most powerful woman Liara knew, could not overcome him, what hope did they have? What if it was all in vain?

And how in the goddess was she supposed to help?

She was not as wise as her mother. She was not as strong. She wasn't even as well trained. She flexed her newly mended hand, weaving a biotic field through her fingers.

Your mother tried to kill you, she thought to herself. She died because she tried to control a power greater than she was, and it overwhelmed her. Is punching a wall the best you've got?

A small seed of resolve sprouted somewhere inside her. Regardless of Chakwas's reassurances, she knew Shepard had no use for a frightened little girl. If she wanted to stay, she had to have more to offer. And though she didn't like it, she thought she knew a good place to start.

The Noveria report lay on Shepard's desk unfinished. He stood next to his desk, scowling at it as he took a sip of coffee. The Council was going to flip about the rachni, even if Shepard had seen to it they never left the hot labs. He'd managed to avoid it during their…abbreviated conversation earlier, but they were going to find out once they read the report. If he ever finished it, that was. Being a Spectre did not come without a few drawbacks. And on top of that Hackett wanted him to go to Luna to take out a rogue VI. He was tempted to send Williams and Alenko to that one in his stead, but Hackett wanted him, and after Torfan Shepard certainly owed him a few favors. Maybe more than a few.

He took a sip from his mug, grimacing as it scalded his tongue. With a reluctant sigh, he sat back down to work on the report.

His door chimed.

Shepard frowned, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at the door. "Come in." The door swished open to reveal Dr. Chakwas, much to his surprise. She had never called on him in his cabin before.

"Commander," she said pleasantly. "Do you have a moment?"

"What do you need, Doc?" He stood up, somewhat grateful to once again be distracted from finishing the report.

She stepped inside and allowed the door to close behind her. "I wanted to speak to you about Dr. T'Soni."

Shepard's stomach did a small flip flop. "What about her? Something wrong?"

"Not necessarily," she said carefully. "I think she's taking the death of her mother very hard. I'd like to give her a little space from the rest of the crew for a few days. She's not used to being in tight quarters like this."

"She seemed fine on the trip back," Shepard said.

"I don't think she's very keen to let on about it. Put yourself in her place. How would you feel?"

"I'm pretty sure if my mother tried to kill me I wouldn't miss her very much."

Chakwas crossed her arms. "Has she?"

"Tried to kill me?" Shepard asked with some surprise. "No."

"Then how would you know?'

He sighed. "What does she need?"

"I offered to let her have my office for a few days. Give her a chance for some privacy."

"Ok. Sounds good to me."

"Thank you, Commander. She didn't want special treatment, but I think it will help her. She seems to admire you a great deal."

"Thanks, Doc," he said. Her last words gave him pause.

When the door slid shut behind her he sat back down, tapping his fingers on his knees and staring at the Noveria report but not actually thinking about it. For a long time he tried to circle his thoughts away from Liara T'Soni and failed.

Shepard had a good crew, but they were just that. His crew. He wasn't here to make friends. He had a mission to take down Saren, and to do it he needed soldiers. Good ones, who could and would get the job done. Shepard didn't have time to hold their hands, solve their problems or give them an outlet. Life was hard, life in space was harder. You did the mission and went home. The rest was your own business.

But then there was Liara.

The woman who had shown up trapped in a stasis field of her own making. She was naïve. Awkward. Couldn't grasp a simple joke. Williams had sneered at the thought of bringing her on board, and to some extent she was right. They didn't know if they could trust her. And she hadn't given them any reason to put faith in her ability to fight. But Shepard's gut had told him otherwise, and he always trusted his gut. There was just something about her...and that something was starting to make him a little uncomfortable.

He considered what had happened with Benezia. It had been his impression she and Liara were not close, therefore it didn't really occur to him that her death would be that traumatic. After all, she'd tried to murder her own daughter. Shepard didn't tend to miss people who tried to kill him, and just assumed Liara felt the same way. But as he was now realizing, the asari scientist was more complicated than he'd first thought.

Shepard had taken the shot on Benezia. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now it occurred to him that Liara might think a lot of it. He found himself more troubled by the thought than he liked to admit. You should talk to her, he thought to himself. But it took a while to get from thinking to doing. He felt strangely paranoid about screwing up the entire conversation.

Eventually he forced himself out of his quarters and over to the med bay. Dr. Chakwas had gone off shift for the night and the lighting inside was dimmed. He reached the door to her office, raised his hand to knock, hesitated, then did it anyway. No answer. He tried again, feeling slightly ridiculous that he'd gotten himself so worked up. Again, silence.

He opened the door, not sure what to expect on the other side. But there was nothing. Liara wasn't there. Confused, he turned, as though she might materialize behind him.

"The hell?" he muttered aloud.

She was not in the mess. Pressly had not seen her in the CIC. A young corporal named Vivaldi, so flustered at the sight of him that Shepard could almost hear his knees knocking, meekly informed Shepard she had not been in crew quarters. That left the lower deck. He headed for the elevator, reminding himself for the countless time that he needed to find someone in maintenance to figure out why the damn thing was so slow.

As it gradually slid to a stop he heard gunshots. Someone, probably Williams, maybe Garrus, was getting some target practice. But what he found when he walked to the back of the cargo bay was Liara standing before the target, holding a shotgun of all things, while Wrex croaked instructions from off to the side.

Incredulous, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the Mako to watch. Wrex grumbled instructions to her between shots, occasionally lumbering behind her to correct her posture, clamping his reptilian, three-fingered grip over her slender blue fingers to adjust her grip. His mountainous form was utterly incongruent with her slim, graceful figure. The krogan was surprisingly patient with her, but the tightness in her shoulders and clench of her jaw disclosed her frustration. The recoil nearly knocked her off her feet – it looked like he had chosen a Katana for her – but to her credit she didn't give up.

After a moment Shepard cleared his throat, and Liara almost dropped the gun.

"Shepard!" she said in surprise.

"Liara," he said, then nodded at the krogan. "Wrex.

"Shepard," Wrex replied.

"Give us a few minutes?" Shepard asked.

Wrex shrugged and then trudged towards the elevator. Shepard turned back to Liara, who was looking at the floor and shifting her feet a little. "This is not where I expected to find you," he said, smiling a little in spite of himself. He couldn't help it. The more flustered she got the more beautiful she looked, and it was only amplified when her embarrassed flush made her freckles stand out against her sky blue skin.

"Noveria showed me my aim needs a little work," she said, somewhat sheepishly.

"Sure now is the best time?" he asked, indicating the brace on her hand. She hid it quickly behind her back.

"It's fine," she said, a bit too quickly to be true.

"We have some time," Shepard pointed out. "We're making a quick detour to Luna so I can take care of something for the Alliance. Let yourself heal."

She set the gun down, avoiding Shepard's gaze. "My mother tried to teach me to shoot. She said that biotics were an asari's strongest weapon, but a commando needed to be deadly with a firearm when it was necessary. I told her that since I didn't want to be a commando, it didn't make any difference." Her face fell with sudden realization. "She used that against me on Noveria, didn't she?"

Shepard did not reply, the sadness on her face almost too much for him to stand. She was just another enemy to me, he thought to himself. To Liara she was Torfan. Nightmares, he supposed, could take very different forms depending on who was living them.

Liara shrugged it off, straightening her shoulders and picking up the gun again. "Doesn't matter," she said. "It's done."

But it wasn't. Now that he looked, it was written all over her face.

"Tell you what," he said, taking the shotgun from her hands. "Wrex is a big fan of shotguns. In fact, let me guess. The first thing he handed you was a Claymore."

"I could hardly lift it," she admitted.

"Right. But just because that's his gun of choice doesn't mean it's yours. In fact you, Dr. T'Soni, strike me as someone who would be much more at home with one of these." He took a Phalanx pistol from the gun locker and handed it to her. She took it, held it for a moment, turning it over in her hands. In one deft movement she took aim on the target and fired three quick shots. Two of the three hit the target, but none close to the center. Shepard could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves.

Shepard cleared his throat. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward her.

"Sure," she said, a note of defeat creeping into her voice.

He came up behind her, reached his arms around her to adjust her grip on the gun, putting them cheek to cheek. Her scalp crest brushed against his ear, suddenly making it very, very hard to concentrate. Whether it was because she was asari, biotic, or something else entirely was beyond him, but this close to her his entire nervous system lit up like he'd been hit with a rush of adrenaline. When he touched her hands an unseen charge passed right through her skin and into his brain. He drew in a sharp breath.

If she had felt anything she made no sign, making him wonder if the whole thing had been entirely in his head.

"Here," he said, swallowing a little and trying to focus again. "Try it like this."

Reluctantly he released her. His head cleared a little, but she was still tantalizingly close. She squeezed the trigger. This time all three hit the target, one reasonably close to center. "See?" he said. "Just takes practice."

She set the pistol down, drew in a deep breath, and turned to face him, not realizing how close he still was. Awkwardly they each took half a step back. Shepard felt like an idiot, even more so because now she seemed impossibly far away.

"Commander," she said, "if you do not have room for an asari with poor aim on your ship, I understand."

He raised an eyebrow. Even if he'd agreed with her a few minutes ago, the mere suggestion now seemed ludicrous. "Dr. T'Soni, if I didn't want you as part of my crew, you would still be on Noveria."

A flush crept up her pale blue skin. "Dr. Chakwas said something similar."

"Dr. Chakwas is a smart woman who's served with me long enough to know." He picked up the pistol and turned it over in his hands, avoiding her gaze. He wasn't sure he could handle it. "I don't just need people with good aim. I have plenty of people to take care of someone who needs a bullet." He hesitated, unable to stop himself. "You're more than that, Liara. I need you here."

To Shepard's alarm she put her hands over her face and choked out a sob.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so sorry. I don't make much of a case for myself. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You just lost your mother," he said gently.

"It's so strange. I feel so betrayed by her, so angry. But she was my mother. For better or for worse, I am who I am largely because of her." She crossed her arms, almost hugging herself, and looked up at Shepard with painful clarity. "It's selfish, but by losing her, I've lost part of myself that I'll never get back. Your parents are the only ones who know your full history. No matter how…distant we were from one another, that history was always there. Now it's gone." She shook her head. "I should have taken the headdress," she said, more to herself than to Shepard. The look on her face was that of a young woman who was just beginning to understand that she was well and truly lost. Shepard ached for her.

"What about your father?" Shepard asked. "Or…whatever the asari call the second parent. Sorry, I'm a little culturally ignorant."

That got a brief smile from her, at least. "My 'father,' so to speak, was another asari. But I've never met her, and don't know who she was. Benezia wouldn't tell me, and now I guess I'll never know."

"Why wouldn't she tell you?" Shepard asked.

"I don't know. Asari value the diversity of other species, so choosing an asari bondmate is seen as…taboo. My mother being who she was…maybe she was ashamed. Maybe her bondmate wanted nothing to do with me. Maybe I was a mistake." She wavered again. "I'm sorry. I've asked myself these questions my entire life, and now I'll never have the answers."

Shepard looked at this woman, who at their first meeting had seemed so naïve and so…young, and saw something he recognized all too well in his own reflection. It made him deeply sad for her, bringing out sympathy he hadn't felt for anyone since batarians had changed his views on the universe.

"I'm not close to my mother," he said, a confession that fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. He never spoke about his personal life, let alone his own family, with anyone. "It's not for any reason, either, other than my parents are both Alliance, and we know all too well what can happen in this job. If we aren't close to each other maybe…maybe it will be easier if it happens."

Her expression was grave, almost pitying. "Trust me, Shepard. It won't be."

Shepard sat in his quarters late that night, no interest in sleep, Noveria report still unfinished on his desk. In the background a clock ticked. It was Anderson's clock. His old CO had left it behind, and though Shepard kept intending to get rid of it, he hadn't gotten around to it. It was too loud, but for right now anyway, he preferred it to the silence.

Liara sat heavily on her mind. He thought of Benezia, those final moments when her disdain had oscillated to love, then to hate, and in her last moments to fear. He overlaid Benezia's face with that of his own mother, wondered if when it came to it if he would have pulled the trigger, or if Liara would have had to step in and do it for him as he had done for her. He wondered if she was right, and if the distance Shepard had allowed to grow between himself and Hannah Shepard would really make it easier to sleep at night if he lost her, or the other way around. The look on Liara's face when she had mentioned Benezia's headdress told him it wouldn't.

He thought about the headdress for a moment. Drummed his fingers on the desk. Had it been anyone else he would have forgotten about it already. There were more important things to worry about. But somehow she was different. It lingered. The expression on her face haunted him.

He paged Joker through the comm system. It was late, but Joker was a terrible sleeper, and Shepard was willing to bet he was playing cards with the grunts who were either too timid to give him any shit or the few he might still be able to sucker into pitying him for his "handicap."

"Commander," Joker said promptly, sounding somewhat testy but awake.

"I need you to set up a call with Udina," Shepard replied.

"Really?" Joker asked skeptically. "What for?"

"Not your business. Just get him."

There was a pause. "It's middle of the night Citadel time. Pretty sure he's not going to love a wakeup call at this hour. And he's the type that might shoot the messenger."

"And I'm pretty sure I don't care. Get him on the damn comm link."

Joker sighed somewhat ruefully. "Aye, sir."

Shepard pulled up the vidsceen in his quarters and waited. Several long minutes later a very disheveled, annoyed looking Udina appeared.

"This had better be important, Shepard."

"I need you to contact the asari councilor and request a favor. Have them send Matriarch Benezia's headdress to the Citadel."

He watched patiently as Udina's face went from irritated to wrathful when Shepard's request sunk in. "You contact me on an emergency channel in the middle of the night about a headdress? Are you out of your mind?"

Emergency channel, huh. Nice touch, Joker. "It's important," Shepard said. "I need you to contact them right away, before something happens to it. Have it delivered to the embassy. Anderson can keep an eye on it until I get there."

"And why on earth should I do that?"

Shepard leaned forward slightly. "Because the first human Spectre is asking you to. I need you to get it done."

"Watch your tone, Shepard. You're a Spectre because I made you one. If you think you can make my life miserable without repercussions you don't understand politics."

"Don't I? You're going to do this for me because I don't give a shit about a place for humanity on the council, and you do. And if I make noise about the human ambassador being unwilling to work with the Spectre he just anointed things won't go well for you. And the asari councilor will make it happen because I just saved her people from the galactic embarrassment of one of their most revered matriarch's colluding with the most wanted criminal in the galaxy. I'm asking for the headdress, and she's going to give it to me. You're going to make it happen."

Udina worked his jaw, seething.

"Look, Udina. We don't have to like each other to work together. You picked me for a reason. I'm out here trying to bring down the biggest threat to galaxy we've ever known. And when I do it, everyone is going to owe a little something to humanity. You can be part of it or not. Your choice."

Udina signed off without a response, but Shepard knew he had won.

The headdress was indeed ready and waiting for him in Anderson's office when they docked at the Citadel. Shepard held it up, surprised at how light it felt. There was something archaic about it. He ran his fingers over the grooves in the forehead piece. The markings on it were painstakingly detailed, though he didn't understand their significance. It was beautifully maintained. Shepard guessed it was some kind of family heirloom rather than something Benezia had procured on a whim. He wrapped it carefully and took it back to the Normandy.

When Liara returned to the ship a few hours later he paged her to his quarters. He was strangely nervous. Funny how charging headlong into a batarian massacre seemed like par for the course, but being alone in his quarters with an asari scientist made him sweat.

At the sound of his door chime his stomach lurched. She stepped timidly inside when the door slid open, hands clasped behind her back, eyes looking everywhere but at Shepard. An awkward silence hung for a moment before Shepard managed to greet her, stumbling a little over his words.

"Do you need something, Shepard?" she asked. "Is everything all right?"

"No," he said. "I mean, yes, everything's fine. I…" He laughed a little. "Sorry. I have something for you. Thought you might want to receive it in private."

She tilted her head, eyeing him curiously as he picked up the wrapped bundle sitting next to his desk. He offered it to her, watching her face as she peeled the layers of cloth away to find the headdress. She glanced quickly up at Shepard, blue irises wide and glittering with shock. Her hands began to shake so hard he thought she might lose her grip on it.

"The headdress," she said. "Shepard, I don't….how did you…."

"Doesn't matter," he said, gently closing his hands over hers to steady them. That same electricity he'd felt in the cargo bay raced through his body, making him a little lightheaded. "I wanted you to know I wish things on Noveria could have been different."

"She was the enemy," Liara said sadly. "It was her choice, not yours. You did…what you had to do."

"Maybe," he said. "But I don't often have to see my enemy as anything more than a statistic. Changes your perspective a little." He let go of her, again reluctantly. She set the headdress on his desk, then lovingly traced its contours with her fingers, much like Shepard had done. Only when she touched it, he knew she was reliving a well of memories, the depth of which he couldn't fathom.

"I wish you could have known her for who she really was," she murmured. "Not what Saren made her."

Shepard felt a sudden flush of hatred for the turian spectre. "We're going to find him, Liara. We're going to find him and stop him. He's going to pay for the things he's done and the people he's hurt."

She looked up at him with the same worn out wisdom he'd seen down in the cargo bay, the wisdom won through grief. "I honestly believe that if anyone can, it's you," she said. "But vengeance for his crimes doesn't change them. In the end I'm not sure how much it even matters."

Shepard thought of the batarians and almost disagreed. Every last one of them had paid dearly for Mindior and Elysium, and he felt great about that.

"From a personal perspective," she added quickly. "I'm not suggesting we let him find the conduit."

He grinned. "I'm guessing the council wouldn't exactly love the notion of letting Saren go because we decided we were above retribution."

Liara flushed again, and Shepard felt his stomach flip. But then her eyes drifted to the headdress, and sadness crept back over her features. "Thank you for this, Shepard. You have no idea how much it means to me. She picked it up gently, cradling it to her chest, and headed for the door.

Without thinking he reached for her shoulder, turned her around and kissed her. For an instant she was too stunned to respond. But when she did the hairs on the back of his neck stood out. She was inside his skin, an exhilarating, overwhelming presence that touched him in places he hadn't even fathomed.

He pulled away with a small gasp. While in actuality the kiss had been brief, it had felt like an eternity that left him short of breath and searching for air. Their eyes met. Her gaze was innocent but steady, a stark contrast to his own. He felt naked and exposed, and there was no hiding it.

"I'm glad you're here, Liara T'Soni," he said when he found his voice.

"So am I," she said softly, then left.

Hours later she still sat heavily on his mind. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined finding someone like her out here. He was on a mission to take down someone who threatened the security of the entire galaxy. She was a distraction he could neither permit nor afford. But she was under his skin, and he did not know how to get her out. The feel of her fingers, the touch of her lips…and once he got beyond the physical appeal there was that strange mix of naiveté and wisdom that was just as intoxicating.

It was dangerous. He didn't care. He'd already proven he was willing to go out of his way for her. Now the question that remained was how far.

He thought about the headdress, the strong reaction it had elicited from her. Whatever fallout there might be from Udina, it was worth it. He tried to think of something from his own childhood that elicited that kind of connection from his own mother and found none. It made him strangely jealous.

On a sudden whim he activated his haptic interface, invoked his security clearance and scanned fleet movements for the Kilimanjaro. She was in the Artemis Tau cluster on patrol. After a brief hesitation, he recorded a short note.

Mom,

Just wanted to drop you a note. Sorry I haven't been in touch. I'm sure you've seen from the vids how much has happened over the last couple of weeks. Wish you could have been at the induction ceremony. Can't give you the specifics of what's going on, but wanted to let you know I plan to make you proud. Love, me.

He sent it before he could change his mind.