Summary:
The war is over. It ended as Liara knew it would.
Notes:
This is NOT part of my Cari'ssi'mi continuity. (Really, it isn't. No fooling.)
Shepard had hung her head, her hands gripping the console, shaken by what she'd seen.
"…or maybe I'm just a high tech VI that thinks its Commander Shepard."
Liara wanted to go to her, hold her, make the pain go away. But she had held back. Perhaps more than she should have.
That hadn't been the time. Still, perhaps her words had provided some comfort in the face of her commander's obvious suffering.
"I wish you had told me Shepard. I knew it was really you the first time I touched you again."
A truth that, and one easily told. A stronger truth was left unsaid. 'If there had been any doubt, I would not be here. I will not live without you.' After all, Shepard had died before. The maiden knew the consequences of that event, remembered the aching emptiness Shepard had left behind. Even now the memory was a cauterized wound.
That truth had gone unsaid because of course Shepard already knew, and did not need to be reminded.
It was a truth that had nearly been spoken once before, aboard the Normandy. Still at war, yet happier times. Shepard had invited Liara to her cabin. Not that Liara didn't go there often, but this was different, important. Not just squeezing in a few hours of desperate sleep, or a few minutes of frenzied intimacy. The Normandy had been on her way back to the Citadel, and Shepard had found time to humor the maiden after Liara had made several pointed requests to be invited up to the cabin. There had even been drinks.
Having Shepard finally approve of her project had been a huge relief to the scientist cum Shadow Broker. The commander's entry had been the last remaining piece. Liara had been able to broadcast the final update to the information caches that her agents had already distributed throughout the galaxy. With the new data in place, the units had entered hibernation mode, waiting for the next cycle of sentient organics to discover them.
Their evening had taken a different tone then, as glyph wished the pair goodnight before shutting down. Liara knew that Shepard had seen it in her eyes, in the way she'd carried herself. Even as she sat down next to the commander, her tone a mixture of regret and flirtation, Shepard had seen that Liara's focus had changed. The war was over for her, this was her blow to vanquish the Reapers. Shepard might destroy them in this cycle, but Liara was convinced that she had ensured their destruction in the next. This allowed her focus to be entirely on Shepard, on her private war with the woman's self destructive tendencies, her penchant for martyrdom.
It was after that night that Liara had hardened. She stopped going unarmed aboard ship. Her locust was still her loadout of choice on missions, but aboard the Normandy she carried a holstered carnifex. No mods, no warp ammo, just standard Alliance issue. No one questioned this new behavior, none thought it odd. After all, this very ship had been once boarded by the collectors, the crew abducted. None could object to a will to defend one's self in the face of such an event. It was one more affectation among many. Shepard's fixation on her model ships, Garrus' continual calibration of the main gun, the white queen that Traynor always carried with her, all errant behaviors become normalized in a time of war.
But Shepard had known, had realized the meaning.
The commander's behavior had changed as well. She wasn't more cautious, but she no longer approached her missions with the same flair. The joie de vivre that was her signature style had been muted, subdued. Her skills were undiminished, yet she began glancing to Liara during engagements. While the commander wasn't seeking permission in her unspoken appeal, Liara would give it anyway. A subtle nod or the smallest of smiles acknowledging that Shepard was who she was. She wouldn't want to change the commander. That was the point.
Liara had protested when Hammer had fallen, denying her injury as Garrus had helped her aboard the Normandy. This time when Shepard's eyes sought absolution, Liara withheld it. They both knew what it meant. Both knew Shepard would go anyway. Both knew how it would end. Shepard looked away first, leaving Liara to her unwanted rescue.
The battle had concluded as Liara had expected it would. Reapers in flames even as the Normandy escaped. The journey was more turbulent than she ever anticipated.
The ship was coasting when the the first comm arrived, The Terran system still weeks away. Four months of repairs had left the Normandy spaceworthy, if only just. The energy wave that had so accelerated their flight not having caused nearly as much physical damage as the one that had correspondingly slowed them nearly 400 lightyears from Sol. The repairs made in an unmapped system in the general direction of the Exodus Cluster were a testament to Joker's piloting and Adams' skill.
When word came, it hit the crew like a blow. Some ranted, some sobbed.
Liara took the news more calmly than others. She simply nodded to Chakwas, and Garrus, who hadn't wanted to tell her alone.
With comms accessible, there was work to be done, arrangements to attend to.
The crew was not surprised when new information started becoming available. Status of loved ones, locations, units, all routed via unofficial channels. Funds and resources were also available, and would be ready for their arrival. Hours passed, during which Liara provided for her grieving adopted family.
The crew was also not surprised by the shot, the last of the war. Nor were they when Glyph informed Chakwas that her services would not be required. The obedient drone had already vented the XO's office to space, for preservation.
Preparations had been made, after all.