The Right Choice
Note: Unbetaed and written spur of the moment after playing the Shadow Broker DLC. My Dragon Age writing seems to have been overshadowed by my new love for ME. Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think. :)
You've had to make a lot of hard decisions in your life, ones that always make you think twice, make you wonder, did I do the right thing?
But now that you think of it, hard decisions probably come with the territory of being in love with the woman with the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders for the second time.
Taking part in killing your own mother was one such hard decision, of course. You didn't expect that one to be easy at all, especially when she regained control of her mind momentarily and practically begged you and Shepard to stop her, or when she said that she'd always been proud of you with that look of love in her eyes.
But when her eyes hardened again, and she sent more soldiers to kill you, you knew that you couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't stop Shepard when she pulled the trigger. Because that woman wasn't your mother any longer, not the woman with the cold eyes and a death wish for humanity and beyond. Your mother was the one dying on the floor, calling you 'Little Wing' like she used to when you were younger, and that was the woman you regretted killing. You still kind of do, because sometimes you think that with all of your intelligence, what does it amount to if you can't come up with a way reverse the indoctrination of your own mother?
Listening to Darby when the world around you was literally exploding was another decision you still can't get over. Yet again, you knew it had to be done, what with the Normandy crumbling to pieces and people dying all around you. You couldn't see the hard lines of her face, grim in that way it always was in the face of danger, because she'd put on her helmet in preparation of what was to come.
You could, however, see her eyes, and that was what terrified you the most. Not the explosions, the possibility of death, the confusion of what was happening. It was the look in her deep blue eyes, darker than your own, that put the fear of the goddesses in your heart, because it was the look of someone ready to die.
She had commanded everyone to flee to the escape pods, but you protested weakly. "I won't leave you here!" You said, knowing it would be a futile effort once she pinned you with those eyes.
"Liara!" she shouted, over the dying screams of the crew. "Go!"
You paused for a minute, thinking of all that could, and would, happen if you left. But no matter how much you wanted to stay with her, you knew that you had to leave.
And so you did, even though when you think of it now, sometimes you think you could have stopped her from getting spaced, somehow.
You looked for her, of course. Strained your ears for word of her, weeks after the Normandy crashed, because if anyone could survive that, it would have to be Darby Shepard.
But it was that sort of logic that got you into all sorts of an emotional mess, once you met up with your contact, Feron, and learned that Commander Darby Shepard – your first best friend, your first love, your potential bondmate – was dead.
It was easy to hide your inconsolability with violence, however, once Blue Suns started attacking you, and you escaped only to be captured by Cerberus.
You can easily recall meeting Operative Miranda Lawson for the first time, because she quite aloof, colder than even Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was towards you, and she had xenophobia on her side. You can also easily recall that meeting, because the Cerberus operative told you that you could bring Shepard back, if you gave her body to the Illusive Man.
The Shadow Broker was after Shepard's body for the Collectors, and no matter how much you distrusted Cerberus, human hands that could bring Darby back to life had to be infinitely better than the hands of the Collectors, whose plans even the Illusive Man did not know.
So you agreed to hand her over and hated yourself, but you pretended that her being alive was enough. Thinking about what she would say if and when she woke up about being handed over to a potential terrorist extremist group…well, you could handle hating your decision, almost regretting choosing the lesser of two evils. But you couldn't handle it if Darby Shepard hated you, and even though she doesn't, you still wish sometimes that you had just run off with her body and found out a way to revive her yourself.
Later, after two years of wondering if Cerberus was ever going to fulfill its promise, after two years of crying and burying yourself in your work, taking it out on clients who didn't give you the information you wanted…your sources finally confirmed that Shepard was indeed alive, and she was coming to Ilium.
Despite the notice, she still surprised you when she strolled into your office, all confident swagger and guns, as always. Just like before she died. The only differences were the scars that marred her beautiful face, and the length of her hair. Her dark hair, previously cropped short, had grown out with shaggy ends down to her shoulders. You rather liked it like that, especially when the black locks were tangled up in your fingers and you were kissing her for the first time in years, uncaring of the looks from Operatives Lawson and Taylor.
When she offered you the chance to go after the Shadow Broker, you were ecstatic, not only to get Feron back, but to work with Shepard again. As happy as you were, however, you refused to let your emotions compromise the mission, because you couldn't risk failing. Not only had the Shadow Broker taken Feron, he was going to sell Shepard to the Collectors. And while you weren't going to tell Shepard that just yet, you were sure as hell going to make him pay.
So you did, even though it meant watching Shepard show off her fighting prowess out of the corner of your eye, always trying to hide your concern that an errant shot or Vasir's biotics would make their mark. You infiltrated the bastard's base and electrocuted him until his entire body disappeared into dust, and you took his place as Shadow Broker.
That decision was difficult, spur of the moment as it was. But you always were able to think on your feet, and when the concerned, frantic voices of the Shadow Broker operatives broke through the transmission, you knew what you had to do because of all its potential.
Only when Shepard asked you if it's such a good idea, did you feel a twinge of doubt despite your overwhelming feeling of relief. Relief that it was over, that Shepard was alive and the Shadow Broker could no longer get her to sell her off to the Collectors, that her only purpose for living after Shepard died was fulfilled.
Embarrassingly enough, you started crying, and Feron and Operative Lawson took that as their cue to leave you and Shepard alone.
You couldn't help but feel that everything you'd just accomplished amounted to nothing. Two years of mourning, that endless pain and despair, were always going to be there, and even though Shepard was alive, who was to say that was going to be for much longer? You'd saved her once, but you couldn't leave the Shadow Broker's base to be there on the Normandy to save her again. And it wasn't like you could help her last time she was about to die, either.
And who's to say she even wanted you anymore? You'd seen the way Operative Lawson looked at her, and a woman that's genetically modified to be drop-dead gorgeous could have anyone she wanted, even the great Commander Shepard. You'd heard the bitterness in Darby's voice when she sarcastically commented that she was all right after falling from three stories, entangled with Vasir. You remembered the anger in her tone when she grated out an agreement that you would talk about your relationship later.
But then she kissed you, and it wasn't like the kiss you shared on Ilium when you saw each other for the first time, filled with joy and surprise and happiness. This was desperate and passionate, like the way she kissed you that fateful night before the team went to stop Saren at his base in the Mu Relay. Like she was afraid of losing you, just as you were afraid of losing her.
Her hands gripped your waist tightly, her forehead resting against yours as you consented, "Okay….okay."
Hours later when you stand in front of her, with all of the courage you could muster, you ask her what will happen after all this Collector business is over, and she makes a joke about living happily ever after with you, with little blue children. Instantly, before you can even stop the thought, you hope they have her eyes. But you shove at her, smiling slightly before it falters, and you know just how unlikely it is you two could have your happily ever after, because if it's not the Collectors, it's the Reapers, and if it's not the Reapers, then it's the whole business of you living ten times longer than Shepard ever could.
Even though it was only two years of believing Shepard to be gone forever, it felt like an entire asari lifetime, and you're not sure you could handle that again.
"You were dead," you say, turning away from her to hide those embarrassing, uncontrollable tears once more.
"I got better," she says with that stupid smile of hers that you love. It breaks your heart all over again, because you are so unbelievably afraid of the moment where you won't be able to see it again.
"Shepard," you say, almost sternly. "I don't know if I can…"
"You can," she insists, placing a warm hand on your hip and pulling you to her. The scent of her is too much, the touch of her lips against your throat overloading your brain, and you hate and love that she will always be able to do this to you. "Please, Liara," she whispers, pressing heated kisses to the column of your throat, up to your jawline, as your eyes darken. "I want to try this again. I want…I want there to be an us," she says honestly, pulling away to look into your eyes, looking more hopeful than you've ever seen her.
You've had to make a lot of hard decisions in your life, ones that always make you think twice.
But as you nod yes and Shepard finally, finally just kisses you, you know you'll never have to give this decision a second thought.
