A/N: I have received a positive response to this story. Thanks so much, everyone! I'm surprised, but delighted. Ah, reviews and alerts are like cream puffs to us lowly fanfic writers. Thanks to the TAM for beta-ing. I wanted to name this chapter Strong Female Characters. I'll find some way to resist. And as one might see, this is starting to lose it's humor... so predictable of me...


Liara catapults the geth into the air, moving it as if it were a rag doll. Its bizarre, electronic bleats confound her. The Geth have moved past the veil and are working with Saren. It's a lot to process. She's deliberating the possible outcomes and necessary contingency plans when she's snapped out of her reverie by a loud gunshot. Her head rings. She turns to see Shepard lower her sniper rifle. A geth bulb of a head, lens cracked, light fading, spins in a fast circle at her feet before slowing, a tangle of metal tubing sparking light.

"Think you could pay attention in a fight?" Shepard asks. Liara looks up. "You'll have to do more than just stand there and look pretty if we want to beat Saren and the geth."

Liara is at a loss for words. She takes the moment to release the geth armature she's been wielding. It falls to the cold concrete ground of the compound and smashes into pieces. Liara doesn't know if she ought to tell Shepard that the problem may be that she pays too much attention. The argument (faulty as it may be) is swallowed by the processing of the commander's other words—

Shepard thinks she's pretty.

Breathe. Focus. Shepard also thinks she's inept in battle. "I…don't know if that is a fair assessment," Liara looks at the littered geth corpses. She will not focus (as she wants to) on Shepard's quasi-compliment. Humans have figures of speeches. That one in particular may fit into the human stereotypes of asari being nothing but promiscuous aliens. "…Commander," she adds quietly.

Shepard stomps closer, dull gray armor glimmering in the pale artificial lighting. Liara winces but clears her throat, standing taller and trying to stare down the commander. She fails and looks away. "How dare you question me?" Shepard asks. "In case you've forgotten, I'm running the show." Liara shifts and looks back brazenly at her, ready to say—well, something. Anything. The arrogance of this human! She had helped—it's only— she stops when she sees Shepard's smile, strands of hair falling over her eyes. "You make this too easy."

Tali, who has been weaving through stacks of crates in the compound, pipes up. "It isn't nice to tease other impressionable races, Shepard," Tali says moving nearer to them, stooping by various geth pieces, picking them up and examining them. She punches several keys on her omni-tool, sighing now and then before moving on to others. "You'll give us all the wrong ideas about humans."

"Or all the right ones," Liara says under her breath. She shouldn't be petulant. The commander will think she's childish.

Shepard chuckles, eyes gleaming mischievously. "If you didn't make it so fun I wouldn't keep doing it."

"It isn't as 'fun' as you think it is, Commander," Tali returns, turning a geth arm, fingers still wrapped around an assault rifle in her hand. She drops it. "The Council would dictate you lead by example."

"The council has denied your people an embassy for how long now? Screw the Council. What's the fun in leading by example? I'll stick to leading through body counts." She turns to Liara who sees smudges of oil and dirt on her face. Shepard gleams with sweat. Is she strange for finding Shepard attractive right now? Perhaps she is only reminded of a ruin, waiting to be unearthed and…discovered… Shepard is saying something but Liara is lost in thoughts. She doesn't know what they are. They're more a feeling, or hope, than anything manifested in images. Why is she thinking of Shepard? She should be thinking of data. That's how things have always been with her. That's comfortable and familiar. It's exciting albeit in a different way.

Shepard claps a hand on Liara's arm, much as she would an old friend whom she's told a particularly saucy joke to. "Citadel space to Dr. T'Soni? Come in, Dr. Tsoni." Liara looks at her, squints her eyes and blinks. "Seriously, though." Shepard says. "Pay attention."


Liara types frantically, having recalled some things about some of the Prothean artifacts that she'd discovered in the past that now paint a clearer picture. She is becoming accustomed to the Normandy. The vessel is remarkably quiet (in its own way, or at least in comparison to combat) and she has been able to gather her thoughts nicely. It is peculiar. She's dedicated half of her life to Prothean study and though it is half of her life and she is an expert in the field, she can now say that she knows relatively little. She does not have time to do the necessary studies. She hadn't needed much more time, perhaps in two or three hundred years she might have discovered something that might prove useful to Shepard. Unfortunately that time is not afforded to her. She must work harder.

She types again with renewed intensity, completely absorbed in her work until a hand comes down on her shoulder. She jumps in her chair, knocking it back and sending her now cold cup of coffee spilling and nearly clattering to the floor. Shepard reaches past her, grabbing hold of the mug mid air and setting it on the desk behind her. Coffee spreads in a black ooze behind Liara, dripping onto the floor. Shepard is near. "Didn't mean to startle you, Dr. Tsoni."

"Oh. You didn't. I mean—it's all right. I was very immersed in what I was doing. I suppose that I am still not accustomed to having others…so close." Shepard steps backward and Liara regrets her poor phrasing. "Was there something you needed to speak about?" she asks the question but simultaneously turns her back to her, looking around for some napkins to wipe up the mess. She doesn't find them and waits anxiously for the conversation to progress to its finish so she may clean. "I'm sorry about this— I'm not usually so clumsy." That's mostly true, anyway.

"Most people get nervous around Spectres. I just didn't think you would."

"Oh but I ah—I'm not…" she clears her throat and decides that the best course of action is to dive straight into the conversation. Shepard isn't entirely right. Neither is she entirely wrong. She knows that pointing this out will only leave more ground for her to be ridiculed. "I know you're busy, Commander. Is there something I can help you with?"

"You cut straight to the chase. I like that. Is that always your policy?"

Liara stares at her. Her office is dim and it doesn't provide the necessary light to properly gauge whatever it is that may be going on in Shepard's head. Not that there is enough light available in the universe to provide that. "I—I suppose I've never really thought about it. The chase—or the policy." She had thought adding the last would salvage the conversation but finds that she's only succeeded in sounding more ill at ease.

"Mh." Shepard says. Liara bites her tongue to keep from asking what the meaning behind the word (or sound) is. "The Normandy has been docked for hours."

"No, that couldn't possibly be—" she looks at the time on her computer and cringes. "Oh. I've lost track of time again…" she wrings her hands nervously. "I never had the opportunity to properly collect the data from Therum. As you may recall, I was a bit—"

"Tied up?"

Liara swears she sees her smirk. "Erm. Yes. And we've been so busy in the meantime that I—"

"Is there anything in there that's crucial to our current mission?"

"I would argue that—"

"That's a 'no' then." She goes to the door of the office. "Come here. There's something I want you to do." Liara hesitates and looks back at the computer. There is so much to do! The commander can be awfully flippant about certain matters. Shepard's voice gets hard. "I gave you an order." Liara scurries over. "Nice to know you can follow them."


Liara is ashamed, but does not admit, that she had not known their destination was the Citadel. Shepard explains that they've made a stop to pick up supplies and to connect with Citadel officers about the details of missing soldiers. Liara walks next to her, listening to the spectators 'ooh' and 'ah' at the woman they whisper is the first human Spectre and the 'Butcher of Torfan'. Liara is afraid she does not understand the reference though she knows enough to know that both titles would not appear to go hand in hand. Shepard has no reaction, not so much as a narrowing of her eyes. Liara wonders how she got the scar that cuts through her left eyebrow, the scar along her chin. She's too embarrassed to ask.

She is not opposed to asking Shepard where the bookstore might be located, thinking of some reference books that would prove exciting and useful reads. The question of bookstores is forgotten when Shepard shepherds her over to C-Sec. Liara had forgotten how many turians occupied Citadel-Security though she can't say she's spent much time on the Citadel. They regard her impassively.

They go through halls and down flights of stairs, Shepard not chatting and Liara unable to think of anything to discuss. The blank, massive room they arrive in with the blinding white lights is unfamiliar to Liara but Shepard looks to be in good spirits. She puts a pistol in Liara's hand. Liara looks at the weapon, cold and heavy and then to Shepard who smiles cheerfully. The things this woman smiles at… "I don't understand."

"How's your shooting, T'Soni?"

"Ah. I haven't had much use for weapons on my travels. I've found my biotics more than capable of accomplishing any task."

"How'd that work out for you in Therum?" Shepard quips. Liara frowns lightly. "You're a damned good biotic but biotics can use weapons. Think of it as a supplement." Liara looks at the gun helplessly. "You're not afraid to use a pistol, are you?"

"I've never…" she considers. "Why not use bullets? With my biotics I can direct them at the proper target and speed to produce maximum—"

"Because the sight of a gun is enough to make most people piss themselves. Let's keep your biotics the trick up your sleeve when we can help it. Not enough can be said for the element of surprise. You may be asari but you don't look like a Commando. Anyway, using bullets with biotics defeats the purpose. I need you as strong as I can get you. Biotics can wear anyone down, especially during long missions and firefights. Do you get headaches? Migraines?" Liara shakes her head. "Kaidan does."

Liara wonders how attached Shepard is to her lieutenant. "Asari don't suffer the ill effects that human biotics do. We are born with our powers and naturally take to it better than humans who must have modifications implanted." She says as if reading from a book. "I've never used a pistol. You might say that Therum was my most exciting archaeological dig. I never expected for everything to happen the way that it did. Or to meet you."

Shepard's smile is so brief that Liara wonders if she's imagined it. Shepard's in front of Liara one moment and the next she's beside her, positioning the gun in Liara's hand, making sure that she's holding it properly. "Steady your strong arm," Shepard says and grabs the bottom of her arm to make sure it's properly braced. "Don't be fooled. They pack a decent recoil for a smaller gun." She points ahead of her to what Liara now recognizes as a target range. "No, you're holding it wrong. You want to hug it with your hand." Liara isn't sure how one hugs anything with just a hand. Well…she can think of some ways a man might. She gives her head a shake. Shepard takes her wrist as if it were a utility, yanking her away from the thoughts and pushing the pistol grip firmly into the pocket of her hand. "You only want your fingertip on the trigger, not your joint. Show me." Liara looks down at the gun and does as she's instructed before turning it back. "Good. And you always want to have your shoulders square and facing the target. Wrap your other hand around the one holding the grip." Liara does so and tries several times over, Shepard saying 'no' each time. Shepard tsks and appears to give up. She is clearly disappointed and Liara who never cared to know how to hold a gun, suddenly wishes she were better at it. "Like this," Shepard covers Liara's hand with her own. Liara can't help but notice the difference in their skin tones, Shepard's olive, the lightest of bronze colors and her own a medley of blues. Shepard's skin is warm. Liara focuses more on that than on how Shepard shifts her fingers. "Remember this," Shepard tells her lowly, "it'll serve you well. It's crucial."

Liara turns her face to look at her. "Crucial? For…?"

"Control."

"Oh." She's staring. Shepard looks back at her, unflinching, unyielding. Liara wonders how any one person can be so confident. Her hold is slipping from the gun but Shepard's fingers tighten, refusing to let her drop it. "Thank you," she stammers out.

Shepard issues a slow smile and then steps away. Liara regrets when she lets her go. The cold air rushes back to her skin. "Now let's try it with some live ammo, shall we? And some targets. We'll make an Asari Commando of you yet."

Liara doesn't think she's heard a more ridiculous thing in her life. She thinks of what her mother's role may be in Saren's plot and feels guilty. "Ready when you are, Commander." If making herself into an Asari Commando will somehow absolve her mother of any crime… No. None of that makes any sense at all.


Liara hasn't spent too much time with krogans, as such, is not adept at reading their faces. Liara imagines Wrex isn't as horrified as she is when Shepard informs the captain that his squad of soldiers is dead. Shepard delivers the news with the gentleness of a bullet between the eyes. The captain, visibly distraught, makes an excuse and Shepard returns to her and Wrex, leading the way back to the Normandy.

Wrex grunts his appreciation. "I like how you get things done, Shepard. None of the weepy heart-to-hearts I hear you other humans having. We could do with more humans like you. We could do with more krogans like you."

"And have you as my competition? My scars don't compare to yours." Shepard says. Wrex bares his teeth in a craggy smile. "Think they let krogans into the Spectres?"

"Not historically," Liara chimes in. "Typically the Council likes to promote from within their races. Appointing Spectres of other races elevates that race's position but can create tension with others who don't think they have been given the same opportunities."

"Does she always talk like this?" Wrex asks.

"Pretty much," Shepard says.

"Council races," he mutters under his breath. Liara looks up at the hulking krogan. He glances down at her and snorts. Liara wonders what amount of force was necessary to give Wrex the scar that is cleaved onto his face. "What do you say, Shepard?"

"Sorry, Wrex. I don't think I'm ugly enough to even be an honorary krogan," Shepard returns. Liara winces, waiting for Wrex to deliver a blow strong enough to knock her onto one of the pristine Citadel walls but he guffaws instead, his tremulous laughter making his shoulders shake. He parts ways with them, stopping suddenly at a store with fish tanks with some fascination. "Tough guy," Shepard tells Liara.

"The Krogan are a resilient species," Liara says automatically, smiling briefly as she observes Wrex staring through the many fish tanks, his talons tapping lightly on the glass much to the vexation of the store owners. "Commander… if I may say… don't you think you were a little…direct with that captain?" Shepard looks at her. "His squad is gone. Surely the terrible news could have been delivered with some more…finesse."

"I don't have time for finesse. His men are dead. The sooner he accepts that, the better."

"But surely…"

"Softening the blow won't bring his men back, T'Soni. Stick to what you know."

Liara is ready with another question but she bites her tongue when she notices how Shepard's eyebrows have narrowed at long last. "You can call me Liara," she mumbles under her breath to the commander, but Shepard doesn't respond. Stick to what she knows, Shepard says. If she did that then she'd never communicate with anyone. What does she know outside of her Prothean studies? Nothing that would be enough to engage the common person. There is no one on the ship that she has truly befriended and she knows next to nothing about Shepard. She's beginning to suspect that the commander dislikes her, disheartening as the thought is. She wishes she knew more about her. Perhaps if she knew more she might be able to have better dialogues with her. Some moments pass before she realizes that the commander is watching her. "What is it?"

"I'll have Tali and Garrus help you with your marksmanship. If you're interested."

Liara doesn't believe that's what Shepard had been thinking of but knows better than to question her and risk her ire again. "Of course. But…I hope you don't think me too forward in requesting that you continue to instruct me as well. If you're so determined that I become an Asari Commando."

Shepard gives a light shake of her head. "You don't have the disposition of a Commando. It's hard to imagine you outside of a lab. Think of it as part of your charm. And your secret weapon."

She tries not to think that Shepard has said that, so many of her statements are tactical. "I'll have to convince you then. I want to help you stop Saren. As for my mother's role in all of this…" She rubs at her forehead distractedly. "I really can't figure it out. Not everything has to be solved through bullets, Commander. Sometimes diplomacy is the only solution."

"And sometimes you need firepower. Liara—" she stops, taking gentle hold of Liara's arm in the process and pulling them into a small alcove of shadows. Liara can see television screens in the distance blaring news. Turians, humans and asari weave their way through the crowds, chatting and shopping. Liara is filled with apprehension with no direct cause. She looks anxiously at Shepard. "Whatever Benezia's role is in all of this, we'll deal with it when we get to it. Until then, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't want hypotheticals weighing on your mind. But be ready."

Liara looks at the woman in front of her, eyes luminescent in the darkness but still frustratingly unreadable. Are Shepard's words meant to be comfort? Her words are a gift, weapon and protection, extended blade first. How is she not meant to be apprehensive and frightened? Maybe she is only a little girl that needs to grow up and face that she may have to do the one thing a little girl never dreams of having to do to their mother. No. She knows her mother. She is only letting her imagination get carried away with her. Hadn't Benezia always chastised her about that? She'd always been gentle with her. Little Wing, she'd called her. Maybe she knew how fanciful she was and how eager she was to get away from all the stress of being a Matriarch's daughter. "I'll be ready for anything, Commander," Liara says, shuffling slightly.

Shepard nods after a long time. "I'll be counting on you."

They leave the shadowy space they inhabited all too quickly. Liara's thoughts are heavy but her spirits are lifted when Shepard brings her to a bookstore. Everything can be read electronically these days and on omni-tools and computers, but Liara much prefers these tangible books, heavy and concrete; she enjoys their weight and the feel of the pages beneath her fingers, the sound of a sheet being lifted and turned. She shares these thoughts with Shepard who shrugs. "Let's go get some booze," she says, "Ever been stuck in the middle of the galaxy with no alcohol? What a nightmare."

"Is it really?" Liara asks. Shepard's look is enough of an answer. Liara hurriedly buys her books and joins the agitated commander outside of the shop. What is she supposed to know about her nightmares? Can she ask? She isn't sure how the commander would respond to the questions. "Let us go get some 'booze' as you say, Commander. I can't fathom the joy all races get from alcohol. It embarrasses me to admit this but I've never drank to the point of inebriation."

Shepard cocks an eyebrow. "You're kidding me."

"I most certainly am not. When I was with my mother—I had to play a certain role. You must understand the scrutiny I was constantly under." Liara says but Shepard offers another gentle shrug. Liara doesn't know what to make of it. "When I finally got away from her I was on dig sites unearthing—well, you know. It wasn't alcohol I was finding and if I did how was I to know that my system could handle it?"

"Come on, ever try to live a little?"

"I'd rather stay alive than risk a toxin that could kill me."

Shepard laughs. "We have a little downtime left until we leave the Citadel and are back in space. I think it may be time to get you drunk, Dr. Tsoni."