Liara

I slipped my boots on, smiling as I listened to the low notes emanating from the open bathroom door, accompanied by the melodic, almost rainfall-like sound of the shower. That had been another of the remarkable revelations of Shepard. Her singing rang pleasant to the ear. Not well-trained, and oft times slipping off-key, but she had a deep alto timbre that lent itself well to the somber songs she was so fond of.

I rose from the bed and tugged the edges of my tunic down, then grabbed a dry towel from the rack and waited for her to emerge. I leaned my head against the doorway, feeling a soft smile come over me as I listened.

"I am a poor, wayfaring stranger," the haunting melody echoed out from the ceramic coated shower, "while trav'ling through this world of woe…"

"Must you always sing of such things, Serena?" I asked, turning my attention from the door as the VI announced that the ship had begun scanning the planet's surface for evidence of a geth stronghold. "Is not woe too ever present in your mind to let it occupy even the inanities of washing?"

"You tell me." she asked, emerging from the shower with a cloud of steam.

My eyes fixed to the glory of her body, and I became mute as I roved over the angles and planes of her physique. Though she had not regained all the weight she had lost after the injuries incurred on the Battle of the Citadel, her body no longer had the strained, gaunt look it had possessed a month and a half ago. She took the towel from me and ruffled it through the mess of her red hair, which had grown out beyond regulation length, but she did not seem to care, citing that she would cut it once more when it became necessary. I took that to mean it would be when she needed to see someone of higher rank in person.

I felt foolish wondering if the act of cutting a human's hair caused any sort of pain. So foolish that I could not bring myself to ask her. But removing any part of the body, no matter how cavalier any human was when they spoke of it, seemed simply grotesque and unnatural.

Besides, I thought as Shepard ruffled her fingers through the damp locks, I adore her hair. How it feels when I run my fingers through it…how it tickles my thighs when she lowers her mouth to my azure. Goddess… my body clenched even thinking about it and the blood heated in my veins.

Shepard finished drying and walked out of the bathroom, towards the closet, exposing the horrific patchwork of scarring that comprised her back. It reminded me of what we had been speaking of before I had been…distracted.

"You never answered me." I chided her. "Why do you sing of such things? Is not the subject matter…too close for comfort?" I asked as she removed her under-armor from a drawer inside her closet.

"That's why I love the ancient, melancholy songs." she turned to me and zipped up the insulated, protective mesh under-suit.

"I do not understand." I replied, and she smiled as she always did at the familiar words, though I said them far less now than when I had first come aboard the Normandy.

"I remember telling a certain, beautiful asari that music was a universal language." Shepard grinned.

"I recall agreeing with you." I nodded. "It still does not explain why you derive any sort of satisfaction from the utterly miserable lyrics."

Shepard entered the code for the locker that contained her armor and began running diagnostics on the hardsuit with her omni-tool. She remained the picture of calm as she prepared for battle, and I found myself jealous of the ability. I could not control the beat of my heart when I dressed in armor, could not help the quick breaths when I ran a weapons check. I had not become inured to the lifestyle, as Shepard had, but I would not let her go alone. I refused to remain safe while she placed herself in harm's way.

Shepard kept an eye on the diagnostic readout as she leaned against the locker. She turned her eyes to me. "I derive a certain comfort from them." she replied. "In knowing that there were others who took what tragedy had comprised their life and made something somehow beautiful. It's an encouragement. To know I'm not alone. To know that others saw a light somewhere in the darkness and wrote it down in song."

"Traveling through a world of woe does not connote an image of hope springing from darkness." I countered, and Shepard grinned.

"You didn't let me finish the song." she reminded me.

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. "By all means." I demanded. "Serenade me, please. Illuminate this mystery."

"No." she retorted, and my lips turned down at the corners. "I sing for the shower. It does not mock me nor does it criticize my musical selections."

"But it gives you nothing in return." I countered.

"In that appraisal, my lovely, brilliant doctor, you are most incorrect." Shepard teased.

"Enlighten me."

"It provides warmth, comfort, and cleanliness." she ticked the gifts of the shower off on her fingers and I shook my head, wondering if I would ever cease falling prey to her entrapments that tended more and more to the ridiculous.

"Please." I lowered my voice and pushed off from the wall, purposefully swaying my hips as I moved towards her and traced a single finger along her side, up, across her shoulder, then threading my hand in her hair and drawing a path down across her neck.

Her breath shuddered out and her silver eyes kindled to a veritable flame. "No singing." she whispered. "But I'll tell them to you."

"I accept your compromise." I said, whispering a kiss across her cheek.

She smiled and reached up, threading her fingers through my own. "I am a poor, wayfaring stranger, while traveling through this world of woe. But there's no sickness, toil, or danger, in that bright world to which I go. I'm going there to see my father, I'm going there, no more to roam. I'm only going over Jordan…I'm only going over home."

I bit my lip, still attempting to see the comfort she found in the words, and save those mentioning a reunion with family, I could find nothing.

"It sounds akin to the poetry Ashley is so fond of quoting." I observed. "And speaks of a message similar to her religious beliefs, which you told me you do not share."

"Heaven?" Shepard asked, and I nodded. "You're right. I don't believe in that."

"Then what sort of 'bright world' do you envision when you sing this song?" I questioned.

Shepard sighed and her lips thinned, a sure sign that the conversation was veering in a direction she did not quite desire. But I knew she would answer me. She always did. She always had.

"Somewhere lovely." she murmured. "Somewhere that has the peace of space and the beauties of Earth. A place where…where soldiers aren't needed…where Avi would be happy."

"Oh." seemed to be the sole word I could speak.

I understood that Shepard had loved years before she and I had even met, before we even knew of the other's existence. I had seen in her mind the pain of losing that love to a battle-mad comrade's bullet, and the confusion of seeing that love once more after death. It was a confusion I shared, not knowing if it had been real or illusion when I saw Avi Rivera supporting Shepard after pulling her from Sovereign's wreckage. I did not begrudge Shepard her love of Avi, but I did loathe the fact that I could never heal this pain that dwelt ever and deep within her.

"Liara, look at me." Serena curled a finger under my chin and raised my eyes to hers. "I love you. And, if ever I have the misfortune to find that 'bright world' too early, I'll be waiting there for you. You are first in my life, and first in my heart. Nothing can change that."

"I love you, Serena." I whispered, and she kissed me before turning towards her locker and beginning the process of armoring herself. "Are you anticipating geth on Alchera?" I wondered.

"Just a feeling." she replied. "Better to be over prepared than under."

"I can agree with that." I nodded, and keyed in the code to my own armor locker, which Shepard had moved to her cabin when it became clear that my staying in the medical storeroom was a waste of space.

"Commander," Joker's voice crackled over the comms. "you might want to hurry. I've got something on our radar."

Shepard snapped her wrist brace on and looked up, even though she could not see the Normandy's pilot. "What is it?" she asked.

"Don't know." he answered, and I began to worry. "It's nothing the scanners have ever read before. But it's coming in fast."

"Try to hail." Shepard ordered. "If they don't respond, evasive maneuvers. Get the FTL drive ready."

"Will do."

"Well." Shepard walked to me and helped me adjust my neck seal. "Today just got interesting."