I am not dead. Although it may seem that way sometimes. I piece together what I can when I find the time and motivation. I hope this is an interesting and fun chapter. I tried to keep it mostly light, while also laying some groundwork for future chapters. It's interesting to be filling in one relatively short part of the overall story. I know where the characters have to ultimately end up; I know how the later parts of the conflict play out; what I'm figuring out is exactly where it all started and how we got there. For example, in "Never Again" one of the most important events is when Shepard finally tells Liara about the Blitz. It was the last secret that Shepard was holding onto. In this chapter, I wanted to explore all the secrets that Shepard was holding onto. Her insecurities over her past, her anger, and how others view her. Needless to say, there's a good bit of foreshadow in this chapter.
I would also like to say that one of the reasons that this chapter took so long to complete is because I did what I sometimes do and wrote myself into a very tight corner. I struggled with how to end this chapter and was close to amputating the chapter, out of frustration, and giving you less as a result. Luckily, Gellzie offered to help and graciously aided me in working out the kinks. He deserves a great deal of credit for this chapter finally being posted, and he has my thanks. Additionally, while I struggled with this chapter, I worked on the next. You can expect the next chapter very soon. So, to summarize: yay for a pending update, yay for Gellzie's heroic assistance, and boo for N.Q.'s tendency to write herself into a corner.
Also, let me go ahead and address this. Yes, I'm going to bring Cerberus into this story. Don't worry, they're not lurking around every corner, but they are present. They have to come back in the end, and I didn't want the end to be the first time I mentioned them. We know at the beginning of ME2 that Cerberus was watching Shepard for quite some time, already collecting information on her. My theory is that Shepard starts keeping an eye on them around the same time they start keeping an eye on her.
I would also like to state, for the record, that I do not hate therapists. There is nothing wrong with seeking help from a trained professional. Shepard's actions in this chapter are not condonable. She is a flawed human being and acting out of her need for control. I hope this goes without saying, but do not follow her example and seek therapeutic help if you feel that it would be useful to you. Alright, that's my public service announcement for the day. Hope you all enjoy the chapter.
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Dredges of the Past
Shepard stood outside the therapist's office, forcing herself to take deep and measured breaths. She flexed her hands in and out of fists, suppressed the sparks of biotic lightning that occasionally danced over her knuckles, and kept her feet firmly planted in front of the door. Rule number one when visiting a psychiatrist: never go in angry.
But she had plenty of reason to be angry. After reporting for duty, she had been told that she must undergo a psychiatric evaluation before she could be assigned a new mission. The brass had given her some line about the Alliance wanting to ensure that her mental health was sound after the trials she had endured. Shepard read in between the lines and concluded that the real reason was that the Alliance had never been sure about Shepard's mental health, and they were nervous about her suddenly going off and ruining all the good press she'd garnered for them so far. The commander had always been a wild card for them, and they wanted to keep that wild card in check.
Being the good and loyal solider, Shepard obeyed her orders. She arrived punctually for her mandatory session and did her best to calm her anger. She would jump through the Alliance's hoops yet again, but she would only comply in the most literal sense.
Shepard could have written a book on how to avoid actually participating in therapy sessions. She was certainly no stranger to them. Looking back on her life, she thought that she'd spent far too much time being scrutinized by shrinks. After Mindoir, then all the mandatory sessions in the Alliance, her yearly appointments after the Blitz... she'd had many opportunities to develop her Five Golden Rules for Dealing with Psychiatrists.
Therefore, while she was livid with the Alliance for forcing her to participate in this farce, she knew better than to walk into that office angry. No doubt the doctor had been given Shepard's file and knew all about her anger management issues.
Feeling that she was now appropriately calm, Shepard opened the door and walked inside to find a female doctor waiting for her. She was relatively young, early thirties maybe, with long blonde hair and blue eyes - a rare combination nowadays. Over time, dark hair and eyes had dominated the recessive traits and it was rare to see the lighter genomes occur naturally; generally they were the result of genetic modification. The woman wore an Alliance doctor's uniform, the usual dark blue with white trim. She rose from her desk the second the commander entered the office. Crossing the room, she held out her hand and said, "Hello, Commander Shepard. My name is Dr. Lee Rochel."
Shepard shook the woman's hand and nodded, noticing the single bar on her collar that marked her as a lieutenant junior grade. The doctor asked, "Can I call you Sophia?"
Shepard bristled, her first name an instant trigger for setting her on edge. "No," she replied curtly. Then, deciding to cut to the chase, Shepard said, "Look, Doctor, this is nothing personal, but I don't like psychiatrists. As I'm sure you've been made aware. I'm also sure that you've been told that this session was not my choice. I want to be honest with you now; I am not really interested in having a heart to heart."
Tilting her head, Dr. Rochel asked, "Oh? Why don't you like psychiatrists?"
Sitting down in the nearest armchair, the commander gave the lieutenant an uninterested expression. Rule number two: never answer an open ended question. Therapists loved to get the patient talking. But if you gave nothing, they couldn't take anything. The true answer to Dr. Rochel's question was that Shepard didn't like psychiatrists because she didn't like sharing her private life with a stranger. It felt too invasive and Shepard was too careful and controlled to allow that to happen. A stranger hadn't earned the right to ask her questions about her past, about her fears, about her limitations. Shepard could take care of herself. She had always dealt with her own problems and she would continue to do so.
Yet, she didn't say any of this to Dr. Rochel. To the shrink she simply said, "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to answer that?" It felt odd to be so openly rude to someone, especially because Shepard spent so much time presenting a likable face to the media, but she knew from experience not to give these people an inch. She wasn't here to make a new friend. If this bridge had to burn in order to keep her secrets hidden, then Shepard would gladly douse it with gasoline and strike a match.
The blonde woman eyed the commander for a minute, trying to read her and determine what sort of leeway she might make. Then she shrugged and sat down. "Well, it was worth a try," she said.
Shepard raised an eyebrow, but kept her body still. Rule number three: never fidget. Fidgeting was body language, and body language was a form of communication just like words.
"I was warned you may not be cooperative," Dr. Rochel continued. "And, as you've guessed, I have read your file, so I know all about your past behavior with therapists."
Inwardly, Shepard was a little surprised that Dr. Rochel admitted to reading her file. Most psychiatrists tried to hide that fact, since it seemed like an invasion of privacy - which it was - and they thought it hurt the trust between them and the patient. Yet, it usually became apparent eventually, and Shepard knew Alliance protocol well enough to know that they practically had to read the file. Shepard had to admit that she respected Dr. Rochel a little bit for at least being honest. Outwardly, however, she gave no sign that she had any feelings whatsoever.
The doctor went on, unperturbed. "Your distrust of therapists is well known, Commander. Still, you have your job and I have mine." She leaned forward, folding her hands on her knees, and put on an open and receptive face. "Why don't we try talking about the Battle for the Citadel? How did you feel after the battle?"
Rule number four: keep all answers brief. "Tired. Injured."
If Dr. Rochel was annoyed by Shepard's smart ass answer, she didn't show it. Instead she asked, "And Saren? Did you talk to him at the end?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Various things."
"What sorts of things?"
"Crazy things," Shepard answered dryly.
"What did you say to him?"
"Other things."
Finally, Dr. Rochel seemed to get frustrated with Shepard's evasiveness. "So, he said things to you, you said something back, and then what happened?"
"He shot himself."
Her eyes widened at that. "He... what?"
"Shot himself."
"That was how the battle ended?" Dr. Rochel asked skeptically.
"No. Then I fought him."
"But he was dead, wasn't he?"
"That didn't stop him," Shepard replied emotionlessly.
The doctor gave Shepard a look that clearly conveyed that she was unsure whether Shepard was telling the truth, had gone crazy, or was just messing with her. Slowly, she said, "Commander, you want me to believe that you watched a man kill himself, then fought with his reanimated corpse, and you're emotionally fine with that?"
Shepard shrugged. "You haven't seen the things I've seen."
Seeing an opportunity, Dr. Rochel leaned forward even more and said, "Ok, then, let's talk about the things you've seen and how you've dealt with them."
"No."
That brought the doctor up short. "What?"
"I said, no. What you've suggested sounds tedious and boring. Besides, isn't there a saying about not opening old wounds?"
Dr. Rochel stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds and then leaned back, sitting more comfortably on the couch. They eyed one another in silence for a while and then the blonde woman turned her hands palm up as if in surrender. "Ok, Commander, you win."
Shepard's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I can see that you'll fight me the entire session, and to be honest therapy can never work if the patient doesn't want help. Going on would just be a waste of time." She looked calm, with her hands folded in her lap, posture at ease on the cushions, face smooth.
Shepard wasn't sure if this was some sort of new trick. She'd certainly never encountered it before. Cautiously, she asked, "So then, we're done? I can leave?"
Dr. Rochel shook her head. "I'm afraid not. While you have opted out of the portion designed to help you, Commander, there are still Alliance protocols I have to meet. A checklist of sorts." She rose and went over to her desk, returning with two datapads and a stylis. Inwardly, Shepard sighed. As the doctor sat back down on the couch she set one of the datapads beside her - no doubt the one containing Shepard's file - and held the other in her hand as well as the stylis. "Ok, let's just jump right in. What have you been doing after the Battle for the Citadel?"
"PR mostly," Shepard answered with a shrug. "Whatever the Alliance asks me to do."
Dr. Rochel tapped on the datapad with her stylis, obviously checking off a box. "Have you been feeling on edge lately?"
Dealing with the media can set anyone on edge, Shepard thought, but she knew that Dr. Rochel was checking for PTSD. Shepard said, "No. It's been business as usual."
"Have you had any recurrent dreams?"
Shepard thought about the prothean dreams she had had throughout the chase for Saren. She'd lost more than a few nights of sleep over those. Thankfully, they had vanished as soon as Saren and Sovereign were defeated. But Shepard knew that Dr. Rochel was asking about PTSD again. She meant dreams about the battle. So, Shepard saw no need to mention the prothean dreams, not that she would have told the doctor anyway. Not a single living soul knew about the dreams except for Shepard.
"No, nothing like that."
"What sort of hobbies do you have? Have you been keeping up with them since the battle?"
To herself, Shepard snidely commented that she didn't have very many hobbies. Saving the galaxy kept her a bit too busy for that. But to the doctor she said, "I like to cook and read. I haven't had much time to read lately, but I've been cooking." Not having any hobbies would be deemed a red flag, so Shepard saw no reason to lie on this point.
The doctor looked up, surprise evident on her face. No one ever expected Commander Shepard to enjoy something so pedestrian as cooking. "Really? What do you cook?"
"Food."
Taking the hint, Dr. Rochel gave a long-suffering expression before looking back down at the datapad. "Have you had any trouble relating to the people close to you lately?"
Shepard thought about her relationship with Liara, how they had both struggled to communicate and express their desires. But that problem had been solved already and she felt comfortable with their current situation. Not that she would tell Dr. Rochel any of this. "No."
"Are you currently in a romantic relationship?"
That surprised Shepard enough to make her pause. Had Dr. Rochel somehow read her thoughts? No, it was that damn checklist. Still, the question hit too close to home for comfort. "That seems a bit personal," she said. "And irrelevant," she added.
Dr. Rochel looked up from the datapad and tilted her head. "I need to assess your emotional well-being, Commander." Then, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she said, "Are you currently seeing someone?"
Shepard knew that she couldn't afford to answer honestly. The second Dr. Rochel wrote in her report that Commander Shepard had a significant other, the Alliance would do its best to uncover the truth. As their poster-girl, Shepard's personal life was suddenly of great interest to them. They would have an interest in being aware of any skeletons in the closet. So, Shepard answered, "No. No one."
"Have you had a sexual relationship with anyone recently?" Dr. Rochel pressed. That time she hadn't even bothered to glance at the datapad, signaling to the commander that the psychiatrist did not believe her and was digging for the truth. Frustrated, Shepard struggled not to let it show. She always felt wary of lying because you never knew when the lie would come back to haunt you, but she knew better than to tell the truth here. She considered saying something sarcastic like "I don't have a lot of time for sex while saving the galaxy," but that would have been a mistake. Dr. Rochel would likely agree and then realize that if Shepard had had sex with anyone recently then it was probably a member of her crew. Shepard's circle of acquaintances in the last month had been rather small after all.
Gritting her teeth and trying to remain unfazed, Shepard said, "No."
"Are you sure?" Dr. Rochel pressed again, obviously not buying the lie.
"I think I would remember," Shepard replied dryly.
"I suppose you would." The doctor's tone revealed that she didn't believe a word Shepard said. Still, as long as Shepard stood her ground there wasn't anything Dr. Rochel could do about it. So, she came at the commander from a slightly different angle. "Do you have anyone close to you that you can talk to? Someone to confide in?"
An extremely dangerous question, Shepard thought as she paused to plan her next move. If she said no to that question, then Dr. Rochel could say that she was abnormal for not having any healthy, functional relationships. However, if she said yes and was forced to go into detail, then the trail could theoretically lead back to Liara and the therapist was already looking for a romantic interest to pin to Shepard. She would need to proceed carefully here - make Dr. Rochel regret this line of questioning.
"Yeah, I have some friends. They help me work through tough problems."
Trying to hide a smile and failing, Dr. Rochel's eyes lit up with excitement. Now she was getting somewhere. "Members of your crew?"
Rule number five: always take an opportunity to remind them who's in charge. "Yeah, I guess you could say they're fairly new friends. One in particular though... always seems to know how to help me deal with my problems."
"Really? That's wonderful, Commander. This... friend of yours... how does he or she help you?"
Shepard made a show of rubbing her chin, pretending like she was working through her feelings for the first time. "Well, my friend is a lot older than me. Pretty wise, I guess you'd say. It's nice to be around someone so... experienced."
Dr. Rochel raised an eyebrow and Shepard knew that she was already drawing conclusions based on Shepard's file and choice of words. "So, you and your friend, you often talk about your burdens?"
"Oh, well, I wouldn't say we talk all that much. My friend is more... well, more physical if you get my meaning. Not much of a talker."
Dr. Rochel's eyes widened at that. "Is your friend attractive?"
"Hm, yeah, I guess so. It's hard to say from a human perspective, you know?"
"Oh, so your friend, then, isn't... um... human?"
"No. When I said older, I meant a lot older."
Shepard could practically see the doctor sort through the profiles of every member of the Normandy in her head before landing on the obvious choice. "So, I take it you are referring to Dr. Liara T'soni then..."
Now it was Shepard's turn to widen her eyes in mock surprise. She made a show of recoiling back as if shocked by the very idea. Then laughed loudly and waved her hand dismissively. "Liara? You know she's only 106, right? No, no, the person I'm thinking of is much older. Like several centuries old. Surely you know about my good friend the krogan battlemaster?"
The change in the doctor's expression, from smug satisfaction to sudden horror, was almost worth participating in the therapy session. Imaging the lithe, human commander in a romantic relationship with the hulking krogan was obviously not a pleasant mental image. Shepard burst out laughing, no longer trying to hide her mischievous intent. The therapist blinked rapidly and then her face turned bright red out of a mixture of embarrassment and anger at being strung along. Obviously, she realized that she'd been played into coming to a false conclusion. If she'd been foolish enough to really take Shepard seriously and write in her report that the commander was in a romantic relationship with a krogan, her superiors would have lost their heads. Harsh words would be the least of what she could expect for believing such a ridiculous story.
"Very funny," she muttered bitterly, returning her eyes to the datapad in her hand.
Inwardly, Shepard smiled broadly and congratulated herself on a successful misdirection. Letting Dr. Rochel select Liara as a possible romantic interest, only to have that choice come back to burn her, meant that the therapist would be wary of ever reaching the same conclusion again. Sure enough, the doctor quickly dropped all interest in Shepard's romantic life and moved on to the more typical questions regarding Shepard's emotional well-being. By the time the session ended, Shepard felt confident that she'd won yet another round of therapy.
As she rose to leave, Dr. Rochel said, "I hope you are not so closed off with the people you care about, Commander."
The comment seemed rather abrupt and more than a little disrespectful, sparking a small fire in Shepard's blood. But given her past anger problems and knowing that the doctor would be on the lookout for any sign that the commander was unstable, she had to bite back a retort. She turned to go and Dr. Rochel went on, "You think that you're protecting yourself, but you'll hurt anyone that actually tries to get close to you. At some point you'll have to put your trust in someone else or you won't actually be able to love."
Shepard didn't say anything. She just walked out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
~.~.~.~.~
When Shepard had left in the morning, Liara realized that she didn't have much to do with her time. She hadn't taken a vacation in at least a decade and it seemed that she'd forgotten how to enjoy an extended break. In truth, all she wanted to do was spend time with Shepard, but that wouldn't be an option until the evening. The best alternative she could think of was to contact universities that she had previously been affiliated with and offer her time peer reviewing papers on prothean studies. However, she had to await the replies and had nothing to do in the meantime.
Luckily, Tali called and invited Liara to go shopping with her in the wards, and the asari jumped at the opportunity to go out and do something. Now that they were no longer under constant threat, Tali wanted to begin the task of decrypting the geth data she and Shepard had retrieved on one of their missions and which she intended to take back to the fleet. She needed a bit of equipment for the task and asked Liara to keep her company.
Liara had always liked Tali. Originally, she'd felt drawn to the young quarian because she was the only other non-human female aboard the Normandy, and thus they shared a good deal in common. They could both sympathize with the difficulty of adjusting to human customs and mannerisms. They could share tips on how to interact with different members of the crew and what was and was not appropriate in human culture. And they could confide in one another about how they sometimes felt lonely being the only member of their species aboard the Normandy. Then, over time, she'd also learned how earnest and kind-hearted the young woman was and they'd grown quite close over the many months.
"I wish you'd decided to stay on the Normandy during the shore leave," Tali complained as they walked the length of one of the wards. The crowd was not too thick today so they had plenty of free space around them. "Everyone just packed up and left and now the ship is really empty."
Liara did feel a little bad about abandoning Tali, but moving in with Shepard was the only way she would have any time with the commander, so she didn't see any other choice. "Are you the only one left?" she asked.
"No, Garrus is staying, and Joker. A few other crew members that I don't know that well. But Garrus seems restless and lost in his own thoughts. And Joker won't stop complaining about being grounded. They aren't good company right now."
"Well, you have your project to keep you busy," Liara pointed out.
"True. I'm just afraid I'll get lonely after a while."
Liara wanted to tell Tali about their surprise outing tomorrow for her birthday, but she'd promised Ashley to keep it a secret. At least, that would probably cheer the quarian up and it wasn't far off.
"Oh," Tali said, pointing to a nearby store, "let's stop in here a moment. They have a part I need."
As Liara waited while Tali discussed the equipment she needed with the clerk, her thoughts wandered to anticipation of the evening and when she could have Shepard to herself again. The nagging feeling that they were operating on borrowed time still gnawed at her like it had the night before. It seemed imperative that she make every moment with Shepard count, and so she felt the need to plan something special for the evening. However, having never been in a relationship before, Liara felt woefully undereducated about what sort of activities couples were expected to do together. Plus, there was the added layer of concern over secrecy and their desire to not be recognized in public.
She still pondered this dilemma as she and Tali left the store and continued to walk down the street. As they chatted, Liara realized that they were on the same section of the ward where she had met Shepard after the award ceremony. They passed by the stall where the old drell served food, tucked away between two larger stores, and Liara almost pointed it out to Tali. The knee-jerk reaction to tell her friend about the food, and about how it had brought her and Shepard together, felt overpowering. But she held her tongue and soon they had walked past without the quarian even noticing the little restaurant existed.
Yet, the memory of the place, and how Shepard had shared that secret part of herself, stayed with Liara. Even after she had said goodbye to Tali and slowly made her way back to the apartment, she thought about how the food had brought her and Shepard together. Not only that, but the pancakes and Liara's reaction to them had caused Shepard's face to light up in a way Liara had never seen before. Food was so important to the commander and a part of that secret side of her that only Liara was privy to. Suddenly she recalled Shepard's desire to learn how to prepare drell food and an idea popped into her head. Turning around, Liara headed back to the shopping district: she had a meal to plan.
~.~.~.~.~
Shepard's day had only gone downhill after her mandatory therapy session. Two interviews, four meetings, and a debrief later, Shepard was contemplating going rogue. Maintaining her professionalism and likable image began to drain her energy and her patience. Saren might have been a power hungry lunatic, but at least he never had to play nice to the camera.
Once her superiors dismissed her for the day, Shepard beat a hasty retreat back to her apartment. The only thing she wanted to do was curl up beside Liara on the couch, crack open a beer, and watch a movie or something like that. Most of all, she didn't want to pretend anymore. She didn't want to keep up the facade of the likable hero for the public. She just wanted to be a regular human being.
Entering the apartment and not seeing Liara in the living room, Shepard called out, "Liara? Are you here?"
"In the kitchen," came the reply.
When she walked into the kitchen, Shepard saw a mass of food arrayed on the counters and table. Bright colored crops sat in bunches all around, but Shepard did not recognize any of them. Liara stood at the island counter trying to cut some orange fruit or vegetable on a chopping board. She looked up as Shepard stopped and gaped around the kitchen in surprise.
"What's this?" Shepard asked.
"I had an idea," Liara replied with a smile. "You said that you wanted to learn how to cook drell dishes. Well, we could learn together. I looked up a few recipes and got all the ingredients. I have been trying to do all the prep work while you were gone."
Picking up the crop closest to her, Shepard examined what looked like a blue banana. This wasn't exactly what she had planned after a tiresome day, but the excitement of finally trying her hand at preparing drell food outweighed her weariness. Besides, if it would make Liara happy, then Shepard wouldn't say no. Looking back at Liara and smiling, Shepard said, "That's a great idea. What dishes did you pick out for us to try?"
"I did not know what was good, so I searched for the most popular ones," Liara explained. Shepard took off her officer's jacket and hung it over the back of the kitchen chair. Coming over to the counter, she observed the prep work that Liara had already completed. There were three bowls each filled with slices of various fruits or vegetables. Noticing something odd about the slices, Shepard plucked one out of a bowl and held it up to her face. Between her fingers she held a perfect, green cube. And it really was perfect. Each side was precisely equal and measured and they were all identical to one another.
Glancing over to the chopping board, where Liara had gone back to work, Shepard noticed that the asari did not quickly slice up the food. Instead, she sliced excruciatingly slow, forming another perfect cube. Eyes wide, Shepard asked, "Liara, have you been cutting every single one perfectly?"
Liara looked up, head tilted in confusion at the tone of Shepard's voice. "Of course. The directions said to chop the ingredients into small cubes. It did not give me an exact dimension, unfortunately. Did I make them the wrong size?"
Shepard gaped. She had never seen someone take a recipe so literally. "How long did it take you to cut all of these?"
Liara thought for a moment, then answered, "About two hours."
Shepard blinked in surprise. Few meals required two hours of prep work. Especially not when the prep work merely required cutting up fruits and vegetables. Shepard could not believe that Liara had spent two hours perfectly cutting each and every cube. She burst out laughing.
"What is so funny?" Liara demanded, obviously not understanding Shepard's amusement.
Getting her laughter under control, Shepard said, "When the directions say to chop it into cubes, they don't mean perfect cubes. Just bite sized chunks." Sidling next to Liara at the counter, Shepard reached out and took the knife out of Liara's hand. She noticed immediately that Liara had also been using the wrong type of knife. She'd opted for a paring knife which was better suited for peeling than slicing. Setting the paring knife aside, Shepard selected one of her chef's knives instead.
"Here let me show you how it's done," she said. Grabbing another one of the orange crops, Shepard set it on the chopping board and expertly began slicing away. Her hands moved quickly and efficiently, demonstrating the proficiency of many years of practice. Within a few seconds she had a pile of diced cubes in front of her and Liara stared, wide-eyed.
"That was so fast, Shepard," she said. "And they even look nearly perfect too. How did you do that?"
Shepard chuckled, picking up another orange ingredient and dicing it as she answered. "Lots of practice. I have a lot of experience being the sous-chef rather than the chef de cuisine."
Liara tilted her head. "What is a... sue-chef?"
Shepard had forgotten that Liara was not at all experienced when it came to cooking. She made a mental note to be more careful about using culinary terms. "A sous-chef is like an assistant to the master chef. They end up doing a lot of the grunt work. When I was little, my brother, Andrew, was the master chef of the house. I don't remember when exactly he took over preparing all the big holiday meals, but we were pretty young. He loved cooking those meals. He would plan them months in advance and always try to top himself. I was his sous-chef, so I did all the dicing and peeling. I didn't mind not getting any creative control though. I just liked being part of his grand schemes."
Liara watched how quickly and skillfully Shepard worked with the knife, a look of awe on her face. "I do not even see your other hand move. I cannot figure out how you do not cut off your fingers."
"It's not half as hard as it looks," Shepard assured her. Placing the finished cubes into a bowl and clearing the work space, she grabbed another ingredient and said, "Here, I'll teach you." She motioned for Liara to come stand in front of the chopping board. Then she wrapped her arms around the asari from behind, placing her hands over Liara's so that she could guide her. Shepard rested her chin on Liara's shoulder as she gently formed Liara's slender, blue hands into the correct shapes. Going slowly so that Liara could see what they were doing, Shepard guided her through the technique of using her knuckle as a focus for the knife. She was surprised to find that there was something therapeutic about the lesson. Sharing this part of herself with Liara, the physical closeness, the normalness of it - it all soothed her soul.
She had completely shut off her brain, intent on the moment, when Liara asked, "So, how was your day? What did the Alliance have you doing?"
For the tiniest second, Shepard faltered in her practiced motion, slicing a piece too thick. She hoped that Liara hadn't noticed the fumble. "Oh, mostly PR," she said. "I'm sure they're going to get as much good press out of me as they possibly can." Shepard forced her tone to come off as casual so that Liara would not expect that she was hiding some of the truth. She didn't want to tell Liara about the therapy session. She never told people how accustomed she was to psychiatrists, or how good she had become at avoiding therapy. The last thing Shepard wanted was for Liara to think that she was some nutcase, or worse, dangerous and unstable.
I hope you are not so closed off with the people you care about, Commander.
Dr. Rochel's words wormed their way to the forefront of her mind, and Shepard furiously tried to push them aside. As if she would take some stranger's advice. Her and Liara's relationship was going just fine - in fact, it was going better than she had ever dared to hope. For some reason, Liara put up with all of Shepard's peculiarities and burdens. She hadn't gone running for the hills yet, and Shepard had no intention of giving her a reason.
You think that you're protecting yourself, but you'll hurt anyone that actually tries to get close to you.
Shepard wanted to slap herself for dwelling on the psychiatrist's words. Liara didn't need to know about the therapy session. It had been a farce anyway. They always were.
Deciding to shift the topic away to something safer, Shepard asked, "How was your day?"
"It was good. I went shopping with Tali. She is gathering equipment for studying the geth data you gave her."
"Did she say anything about her birthday?"
"No, she did not. I do not think she knows that we know." Liara sighed slightly. "To tell the truth, I am a little hurt that she is keeping it a secret from us. Even if unsuccessfully."
"Maybe quarians don't really celebrate birthdays," Shepard suggested. "Or maybe she wasn't sure if our species celebrated birthdays." Picking up the finished diced pieces, Shepard placed them in a bowl and asked Liara for the rest of the recipe. Liara handed her a datapad and after a moment of studying it, Shepard said, "This looks easy enough. And I even have a job for my sous-chef."
Liara grinned and made a dramatic bow. "Whatever the master chef commands."
Shepard quickly instructed Liara on how to prepare a sauce and walked her through the steps in the recipe. The task would take some time, but it would be relatively simple and not beyond Liara's skill level. While the asari worked on that, Shepard took over the main dish. Although she had never prepared drell food before, Shepard was experienced with all major types of human cuisine. Each type still held regional names, like the classical French cuisine or American comfort food, although humanity had long since moved past those geographical boundaries. Truth be told, Shepard did not know much about their historical origin or significance, and she knew that many types of food had evolved or morphed together over time, but humans still used the old labels in order to differentiate styles of cooking and food types.
Drell food most closely resembled the style of cooking that Shepard knew as Asian - it emphasized spices, sauces, and fresh or raw ingredients. Most Asian dishes fell into one of two categories: simple to the point of elegance or unbelievably complex and multi-faceted. Drell food definitely fell into the latter category. If Shepard had not felt so comfortable starting a strange recipe, she might have been overwhelmed by the sheer number of ingredients.
As she worked, Shepard kept an eye on Liara's progress. Typical to her nature, Liara had thrown herself into her task, concentrating fully on completing the instructions Shepard had given her. The commander grinned to herself as she watched Liara painstakingly measure out different ingredients and add them in the absolutely perfect proportions. Idlely, Shepard thought that Liara's desire for preciseness would make her well-suited for baking rather than other culinary pursuits.
"So," Shepard said, "your mom never taught you how to cook?"
"No," Liara admitted, shrugging slightly. "I do not ever remember seeing her cook. We hired an actual chef who made all our meals."
Shepard paused in her work at the stove and stared at Liara. She had always known that Liara had grown up wealthy; Benezia had been a powerful and respected member of asari culture and had been one of the highest ranking government officials prior to her death. Of course Liara had grown up around wealth and influence. But the commander had never dwelled on it and hearing that Liara had had a chef prepare all her meals - not to mention probably other servants as well - was a bit of a surprise.
"What on earth is a high society girl like you doing with a country bumpkin like me?" she blurted out.
Liara looked over at Shepard and laughed. "Feeling insecure?" she teased.
Shepard threw up her hands dramatically. "Yeah, a little bit."
Liara shook her head with a smile. "To be honest, Shepard, I am more envious of your up-bringing. I feel as if I did not acquire the type of skills necessary for ordinary life; a lesson that did not become apparent until I was on my own and out from under my mother's influence."
Shepard crossed her arms and pretended to pout. "So, what you're saying is, you're only using me for my domestic skills."
Liara laughed, shaking her head. "Do not be ridiculous, Shepard." She paused and flashed the most roguish grin Shepard had seen from her yet. "I am also using you for your body."
The commander blinked, shocked that Liara had made such a joke, but also quite proud. The timid prothean expert had come a long way since they had first met, and Shepard was glad that Liara felt comfortable enough with her to go outside of her comfort zone. She smiled at Liara and said, "You know what? I'm surprisingly ok with that."
They finished preparing the meal and sat down to eat. Overall, Shepard thought they'd done a good job - it wasn't as authentic as the little restaurant on the wards, but for a first attempt it was pretty close. It definitely tasted good, which was the most important thing.
They laughed and talked over dinner, and once they were done Liara said, "I will have to give my compliments to the chef. I think she really outdid herself."
Shepard grinned and said, "I wouldn't be too quick to compliment. I heard the sous-chef does most of the work." She thought for a moment and then added, "Besides, I heard that the master chef was flirting with her sous-chef. Terribly unprofessional."
Liara shook her head. "You are right. We simply cannot tolerate such behavior in the kitchen." Leaning back in her chair and flashing a mischievous grin, she added, "Someone should have a talking to with her. Teach her that there are more appropriate places to flirt."
Shepard could see where the conversation was headed and she couldn't help a seductive smirk. In her mind's eye she saw herself leading Liara back to the bedroom and pushing her up against the wall. Tugging off the asari's clothes and pressing her lips against her exposed flesh. She imagined Liara looping a leg around one of her own and pulling the commander in closer. Blue fingers tracing a path up Shepard's spine. She remembered the taste of Liara's lips and wanted to taste them again. She wanted to hear her name breathed out of them - a sign that Liara desired her, wanted to possess her, needed her. She wanted to spend the rest of the night in bed with Liara and forget about the galaxy. Forget about her past and about what other people thought.
And then Shepard froze.
It dawned on her suddenly that if she continued this flirting game, went with Liara back to the bedroom, that before too long they would be in bed and Liara would ask the commander to join with her. And Shepard couldn't let that happen.
She was always reticent about the meld because it forced her to give up control and made her feel more vulnerable than she liked. However, she'd steadily learned to ignore that initial fear and trust Liara. Yet, this time she hesitated for a slightly different reason. The meld took whatever feelings were at the surface of each person's consciousness and threw them together into a swirling mix of emotions. Shepard had learned that however she felt on a particular day affected how she contributed to the meld. If she had been tired or stressed, those emotions leeched out into the shared consciousness. Of course, those emotions were eventually smothered by the stronger and more present feelings of desire, but they were there at one point - naked and unmasked for Liara to see and decipher.
Normally this wasn't a problem. While it was strange to Shepard to have someone else be able to read her so openly, she trusted Liara. It had never mattered until Shepard had something to hide. Shepard was certain that her earlier encounter with the therapist would infiltrate her connection with Liara. She would sense Shepard's anger, her frustration, and her disquiet. Then she would wonder why such powerful emotions had been present in Shepard's mind when the commander had described a fairly typical and boring day before. Shepard's care to keep that side of herself secret from Liara would be unraveled.
Perhaps she couldn't be perfect in Liara's eyes - Shepard knew that no person could ever be perfect - but she wanted to be good enough. At the very least, she didn't want Liara to think that she was damaged or broken.
At some point you'll have to put your trust in someone else or you won't actually be able to love. Dr. Rochel's words were like a kick to the ribs when she was already down. Angrily, Shepard smothered the words, refusing to acknowledge them. She needed a distraction; some reason why they couldn't meld.
As if some benevolent force had heard her silent prayer, Shepard's omni-tool rang to life. Wincing at the sound and frowning apologetically to Liara, Shepard answered the call. Anderson's face popped up on the screen in front of her.
"Shepard," he said. "Do you remember when you asked me about that terrorist organization you encountered? Cerberus."
She did remember. She remembered getting drawn into a mysterious chase that began with a thresher maw attack and ended with a dead admiral. Despite raiding several of the organization's bases, she still knew little about them. They were obviously a human group, with excellent funding and military supplies. Her gut had told her that the Alliance had to know more about them than they had let on to her before. She'd asked Anderson to look into them, now that he was a powerful figure in the Alliance. After all, as a spectre, she could undertake the task of wiping them out - no red tape to hold her back.
"I remember," she answered. "Did you find anything?"
"Sort of. I discovered that they used to be a special ops division of the Alliance. But they went rogue."
"Rogue?" Shepard murmured. Her hatred for this organization was growing by the minute. Not only had they killed countless innocents while running their sick experiments, but they had also tarnished the uniform. Something Shepard did not take kindly to.
"They became extremely pro-human and broke away, becoming the terrorist group that you encountered. The Alliance is embarrassed about it, which is why they've been so hush-hush on the topic. It took me a while, but I managed to track down the officer in charge of the investigation. Well, investigation is probably a strong word. More like the guy who monitors the situation and tries to either stop them or make sure the Alliance isn't implicated in what they do. Anyway, he was a hard man to track down and he didn't want to talk about Cerberus. I had to drop your name."
"My name? Why?"
Anderson shrugged. "Your name inspires confidence, Shepard. Once I told him that you were looking into Cerberus, he became a lot more willing to talk to me. I guess he figures having a spectre helping him out is worth the risk of talking about confidential material."
"Ok. So what did he say?"
"Well, here's the thing. He wants to talk to you directly. He wants to hear about your encounter with them and then he said that he'll pass along what information he can to you. I couldn't even order the information out of him. Apparently it is pretty locked down. He wants to meet, tonight. You'll need to dress in civilian attire and meet him out in the wards. I don't know how much he can tell you, but it will be good to have him on your side, if you want to go after Cerberus."
Normally, Shepard would have loathed having her off hours snatched away from her, but this time it was a saving grace.
"I'll send you the coordinates for the bar where he wants to meet," Anderson said. "You should head over as soon as you can." He didn't even ask if she had other plans - although, she couldn't blame him. He'd known her long enough to know that she was practically married to the Alliance, and had previously had little personal life to speak of. And she certainly wasn't going to correct him now.
"Got it, Sir. Thanks for the info." She disconnected the call. Rising out of her chair, she said, "I'm sorry, Liara. It sounds like I only have a limited opportunity to talk to this guy. I better run. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She nodded, her expression a mixture of disappointment, but understanding. She no doubt remembered Cerberus and just how dangerous they were.
Shepard quickly changed into civilian clothing, stole a kiss from Liara, and headed out the door. Punching the coordinates into her omni-tool in order to get directions, the commander let out a sigh of relief. Her secret was safe for another day. She just needed a chance to compartmentalize the emotions that had been stirred up from the impromptu therapy session. Dr. Rochel had kicked up some sand and allowed it storm in Shepard for a time. But the sand would settle before long - it always did - and Shepard would be her old self again. The commander just needed a little distance from her memories. Once she had time to move forward again, she would leave the past in the past.
While Shepard didn't know how much longer she could keep her past hidden from Liara, she hoped that she would never have to falter in Liara's eyes. She didn't want to drive her away. Liara was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and Shepard couldn't lose her. Not yet.
