A/N: Thanks to T.A.M. for proofing. And sorry this is so late! Ah, life. Garrus, as promised, though not as much of him as maybe some would like. This story is moving slowly but surely... thanks for your patience, thanks for your lovely reviews. You guys rock. This chapter is not as chipper as the others.
Garrus' gaze shifts from mildly indifferent to coolly analytical. In some ways it isn't altogether different from Shepard's gaze; Liara knows when she's being sized up. They're at the Citadel again. Liara wonders who might have occupied the space before the asari discovered it, deserted. Perhaps the Protheans? No, that's too fantastical…
"Something on your mind, Liara?" Garrus asks. Liara looks up at him. They're leaning on the bridge that crosses over to the financial district. Liara is still unused to the elegance of the space; even the Normandy is a big step up from the ruins Liara is accustomed to…though it isn't preferred. "It's just that you look distracted. Is it your mother?" Liara shakes her head slowly. "I don't mean to pry. I can't say I'd want to talk about my old man, either." He hangs his long arms over the bridge and looks around furtively. He keeps his gaze in one solid direction. "Have you ever met her? The Consort, that is. I've always heard of her but I was C-Sec, nothing I could ever afford. I guess being a Spectre does have its advantages."
"A Spectre?" Liara considers. "Is she involved with Saren?" she has read some of the data logs from the Normandy from before she came aboard. "Unless you meant Nihlus. What happened on Eden Prime was unfortunate. That poor man."
"No, no, I wasn't referring to either one of them." He looks at her for a long time and then he blinks and turns his head away. "I've said too much."
"I hardly know what you're talking about." Liara has never seen a turian look so sheepish as Garrus does. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, talons scratching lightly. "I don't know how you might have said too much," she prods.
"Well, it's just that… The Commander has the honor of being one of the few to enjoy the Consort's company. Maybe being a Spectre doesn't always mean walking into a pile of shit. The Consort is known for many things: advice and poetry being some of them but not all. I've never cared too much for poetry," he adds quickly, "too abstract and open for interpretation. I prefer clear lines. Shepard and I are similar that way."
"I'm afraid I still don't understand…" she trails away and thinks of the Consort. She's heard of Sha'ira. She's heard of what people pay for even a small piece of her time. "Oh." She trips over the word. "Oh, I see." Her face nearly goes purple from embarrassment. To think that she'd gone on and on about asari culture to the commander and she'd listened as if she'd never heard a word of it. Was she placating her? Or…
Garrus clears his throat. "I'm sure Shepard's not there now," he says as if to reassure her. Liara is too mortified to be reassured. She thinks of the commander with another asari and feels like a child again. Well. She supposes she still is one. It's never really bothered her until now.
Liara minimizes the window on the monitor as soon as the hiss of the door alerts her to a presence. She looks back quickly but fails to confirm who it might be before making sure that the window is properly minimized. It is. Shepard's voice rocks Liara to her feet. She nearly knocks her coffee over but catches it this time.
"Shepard—" Liara stammers her name, praying to the Goddess that the commander won't know that she's just been doing research on her. What is the matter with her? She should be researching Protheans, not the first human Spectre. What could have possessed her to do such a thing? She thinks of Sha'ira and flushes again with embarrassment. Hasn't Shepard flirted with her before or was she only imagining things? What would she want with her when she's been with someone like Sha'ira… or… perhaps the commander does appreciate poetry. But she doubts it. "You have a habit of sneaking up on me."
"Announcing my presence ruins the surprise," she says, cocking a grin. "More Prothean research?" She looks behind Liara at the computer. "You can't spend all your time locked up in this office. Didn't anyone teach you to play nice with others?"
"With all due respect, Commander, the same could be asked of you." Liara now knows why they call her the Butcher of Torfan; a chilling name to be sure but one that appears to be well-earned. Can she question the commander's methods? The woman is ruthless, unnecessarily so. So why is she so intrigued by her? Shouldn't she be appalled? "You have…quite a reputation."
"You've been spying on me." Shepard says jovially, joking. Liara's heart nearly slams into Shepard regardless. "I make it a point not to be nice. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I were. Speaking of…" she says looking upward for a scant moment as the Normandy experiences some particularly heavy turbulence. Liara's coffee crashes to the floor. Liara sighs inwardly and makes a mental note to use something not so inclined to breaking or spilling. "We'll be landing in Port Hanshan, soon. What do you say about getting off this ship and maybe seeing some real action?"
"I'm more at home in a laboratory," and more so in remote areas, "but of course I will go if that is what you wish."
"I need to see you in a real fight. The geth are everywhere. You said you'd help us fight Saren. But if you're useless in a fight you're no good to us and I need to know right away."
Liara bites her tongue. She is stupidly hurt by Shepard's words. Would it kill her to learn a little asari diplomacy? Well… in these times, in the situations she experiences it very may well. However, that doesn't lessen the sting of what she's said. Hasn't she shown Shepard that she is capable in battle? Perhaps she hadn't. She isn't a soldier or a mercenary like the others, only a scientist.
"You look as if I've killed your puppy." Shepard says lightly, perhaps sheepishly. Liara wonders if Shepard indeed knows what that looks like on someone. Perhaps she would kill a puppy. Shepard claps her arm on Liara's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Suit up, Liara. Show me what you're made of."
Liara moves to take Shepard's hand away. Their fingers brush. For an instant it seems as if they are holding hands. And then Shepard is gone, the slam of the door shutting all light away and leaving Liara in the darkness.
Liara can't get enough air into her lungs. Every breath is a punishment. There isn't enough room in her lungs. Is she breathing too loudly? The Mako is loud. The storm outside the vehicle is violent. Snow cakes the windows. Visibility is nil. Kaidan looks at her and says something to Shepard about the path.
Shepard responds, her voice muffled by her helmet, face hidden. Her gloved fingers are circled around the steering wheel of the Mako. Liara wishes she could see her face. All she can feel is the cold and the sharp jostling of the Mako when they hit a particularly icy patch of ground. The wind is howling.
"We're nearly back at the NDC," Kaidan says to her. He sounds sympathetic. Lieutenant Alenko is a kind man.
Liara has no words. She looks out the window. All she can see is white, hazy light. Her mother had seen none.
It isn't until they return to the Normandy that some of the numbness ebbs away. Liara's body throbs painfully. It hurts to move her arms. Her jaw feels as if it's been dislocated. Perhaps it was due to some of the work of the asari commandos. Or perhaps it had been her mother. All of it had gone by in a blur and she has found she has little time to think in combat.
Could anything have been done to avoid it? Could anything have been done to save her mother? She doesn't know. She'll never know. She steps off the Mako and pulls her helmet away. Condensation, heat or tears have fogged it. She wipes her forehead.
Some good has come of this. She knows. The rachni have been saved and they've learned of the insidiousness that is indoctrination. They know about the Mu-Relay. Her mother had not helped Saren… not intentionally. Her plan had been brave. Liara refuses to believe it had been foolish.
Why had she spent so much time on dig sites instead of with her mother? None of the usual reasons make sense anymore. Guilt gnaws at her, swallowed by sorrow. Could she have fought faster, better? More questions accost her until she is left helpless.
She has barely stepped into the med-bay when the tears fall, scalding and fast, much to the surprise of Dr. Chakwas and her injured soldier.
To think that not long ago she was fretting about Commander Shepard having been intimate with Sha'ira. Where are her priorities? Shepard's love life, while annoyingly intriguing, is not going to help anyone stop Sovereign or Saren or indoctrination. She thinks of the sickness that controlled her mother and is sickened. If someone like her can be taken, so strong, determined and pure, what chance does anyone else have?
She wonders about her 'father'. Does her mother's partner know? Is she alive to know? Would she care? Liara knows why she thinks of her now that her mother has passed but doesn't see the sense in it. She has never cared to know her, whoever her 'father' was. Or maybe she's only being negative and something else happened. Regardless, there's no point in thinking of it now.
It is difficult to get up in the morning. She is slipping into a depression that crushes all her energy. Only her work motivates her; only Shepard's expectation keeps her going. There is nothing to grieve, she tells herself. At least her mother had died as she lived. She had been herself. There is that.
She has barely prepared for the day, her thoughts in disarray, when Shepard arrives, a tray of food in hand. Liara sees what appear to be scrambled eggs with hash browns and a glass of orange juice. "It's not guaranteed to taste good," Shepard says, "but it ought to be quieter than the mess hall."
Liara manages a small smile. Shepard had checked up on her after the incident with her mother. She hadn't said much of anything but she'd listened to her. Liara believes Shepard was worried though she hadn't admitted any such thing. "This will only encourage my bad habits. You've always said I spend too much time in here, Commander. "
"You do. And if it were any other soldier I'd tell you go get your ass out to the mess hall and buck up." She sets the tray down on the desk, pushing it away from the corner with the tip of her finger. "But you're not a soldier. I haven't been fair to you, treating you as if you were one."
"We're on a mission, Commander. I promised you I would do what it takes. It would be unfair to the others if you gave me preferential treatment." She comes closer to look at the food. She speaks to it. "Not—not that you give me preferential treatment."
They're quiet. Shepard appears to be looking at the utensils. Liara wonders if Shepard is still angry with her for having looked into her service history without asking. Why hadn't she asked? Something about the commander gives her butterflies in her stomach. Is it normal to always feel so nervous around her? "How are you doing?" Shepard finally asks.
"You don't need to keep asking."
"I know." Shepard says too sharply, her brow knitting with what might be regret or might only be further consternation. Liara isn't sure. She sits on the edge of the desk. "I have to make sure that the crew is prepared for the mission both physically and mentally."
"I still have a few bruises," Liara admits, most of them hidden under her clothing, "but nothing serious. Dr. Chakwas is no slouch." Liara isn't sure if she's hovering near her desk chair, breakfast or Shepard. "Your concern then is… professional?" Is she disappointed? Liara wonders if the particular feeling of a boulder in her stomach is the persistent discomfort of her mother's death or something more.
Shepard trails her thumb over Liara's jaw line. The lethargy Liara has been experiencing is the only thing that keeps her from jumping. She grimaces lightly at the pain that flares from Shepard's touch. She's lightheaded again. Her mixed feelings are incompatible. "I could say that it was professional concern but I'd be lying."
Liara wonders if she's heard Shepard properly. "Then…" Liara reflects on their last conversation. It had been hurried and she'd been grief-stricken, saying awful, awkward things. What had she been thinking bringing her feelings for Shepard to the forefront? Is that how it had happened? Maybe her mother's death had left her scrambling to think about anything else. Shepard is silent. Is Shepard lying? "Lieutenant Alenko is a good man." Shepard looks at her. "And a good soldier. Any misconceptions I had about humans have largely been righted by him." Shepard's eyebrows narrow gently. "Ah—and you too, of course. I think that goes without saying. Goddess. You must think—"
"Why are you bringing up Lieutenant Alenko?"
Liara moves her lips soundlessly. Her body is overwhelmed by nervous energy. Where she had felt sluggish and lifeless before she now has difficulty standing still. "I've seen how he looks at you." And he isn't the only one. Sometimes she imagines that Tali looks at Shepard in much the same way. Is she paranoid? Shepard is brash but attractive and capable, stern and decisive. Who wouldn't be interested in her?
"I'm much more interested in how you look at me."
"Oh."
"And how I look at you." Shepard takes Liara's elbow; in one fluid motion she has brought her closer. Liara's cheeks darken. She's dizzier than before. "You're always buried in research and making observations. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
"I thought – I might have noticed…" she stammers. "I hoped… Commander…that it wasn't my imagination. But…"
"But…?" she doesn't let go. "You said we had a connection. Was that grief talking?"
"Please don't misunderstand me," she says quickly. "I am attracted to you. I think about you more than I should. At first I had hoped it was because of your connection to the Prothean beacon. My interest has not been professional either." Shepard says nothing. "I am sorry, Commander. It's the reason why I can't help but say odd things around you or trip over my words. But… I don't understand you. You are like no one I've ever met before and it's… frightening."
Shepard smiles. "If I was like anyone you'd met before you wouldn't be interested."
"I don't understand you all of the time. I don't understand how you make decisions. Most of the time I have no clue as to what you're even thinking. Half of the time I can't tell if you're teasing me or if you find me disdainful. You can be…cold, Commander."
Shepard lets her go. She stands. "I care about you, Liara. Don't think for a minute that I would tell you otherwise if it wasn't true."
"You claim to care for all of your crew. But often it feels as if you throw a caveat onto every statement you make. It's as if you don't want anyone to think that they could be more than a soldier or instrument…" Liara watches Shepard cross her arms. "It is not my intention to make you angry. Only to state my opinion."
"Noted." Shepard purses her lips. She tilts her head back for a moment before massaging her neck. Liara is horrified when she moves her own hand to the back of Shepard's neck to massage slightly. Shepard's hand drops back to her side. She doesn't push Liara away. Her skin is warm. "You've been through a lot lately."
"I'm not the only one. Commander…" her fingers continue to knead the flesh of Shepard's tense neck, "what were your parents like?"
"I thought you poked around in my service history."
"Everything from when you enlisted in the Alliance, yes," she admits bashfully, her face heating again, "but anything before that is a blank. I know I spoke of the obligations my mother had and the expectations that were there for me. With everything that's happened… with you… I'm curious. I'm curious about everything," she says wishing that she hadn't, "but that most of all. My mother was a great influence, despite how much I wanted to do the opposite of what she did."
Shepard shrugs. "I don't have any sentimental stories about my parents. I don't know who they were, what they were. What they would think of me if I did. I was an orphan. Still am," she adds with a wry smile. "Got into a lot of trouble as a kid, did a lot of the things I kill people for doing these days. Enlisted before I became another body and someone who was bigger and tougher took me out. It's funny how that all swings back around. If anyone wants to point a finger for the way I turned out they'd have to start with me. There was no one else."
"I'm sorry, Shepard."
"I'm not. To have to go through what you're going through right now? I got off lucky. Unfortunately for you… I don't always have the right words or say the right thing." She looks away for only an instant and then takes Liara's hand, holds on to it for a moment. "This morning has gotten away from me."
"Please don't apologize."
"Wasn't going to." She allows another small smirk. "I meant to bring you breakfast and have a conversation without anyone else around." She looks down at the plate, "But your food has gone cold…and I'm not entirely sure how well the conversation has gone. I guess that depends on you."
"Oh." Liara looks at the food. She has a sip of the juice for courage. It's lukewarm. She sets it down. "To be honest…"
"You aren't, usually?"
"Must you tease me at every turn?" Liara asks. Shepard smiles. Liara decides to forgive her of all teasing. It's worth it to see the tension slip from her face, to see her eyes brighten. It's only when she smiles that Liara realizes how haunted Shepard's expression typically is. Liara clears her throat. "As I was saying… I am glad that we had this talk, Commander. But there is so much going on… so much to process… I do… I do want to be with you," she forces the words through and is surprised and relieved when the galaxy doesn't implode, "but I need some time. I have accepted what has happened… but I am still… distracted. And there are other things that we should focus on."
"You're shooting me down."
"N-no!" Liara waves her hands, feels ridiculous for doing so, for being so emphatic and flamboyant. A simple 'no' would have sufficed. "I only mean…"
"That you're not ready. I get it. I'm going to take a chance and say that's a 'no' to anything casual, too." Shepard cocks her head as she studies her. Liara's mind goes blank. Is Shepard teasing her again? Perhaps giving her a carte blanche on all teasing was unwise. The Commander will be the death of her at this rate. "You don't strike me as the casual type."
Liara doesn't dare tell Shepard just how true that is. "I just like to wait for things to be right. Or—or not right," she says, "I prefer to make informed decisions."
"Unlike us bullying, thoughtless humans?" Shepard shakes her head with a flicker of a smile, but how kind or unkind it may be Liara is unsure. Is she teasing again? "I live in the moment. You wait for anything in this world to be 'right' and you're going to be waiting a damned long time. I'm not keen on wasting my time."
"I—I'm not asking you to wait—"
"Good. I'm not the kind to sit on my ass for anything. Not even you." She touches the tray of food. "Eat. You need to keep your energy up."
Shepard turns to exit and Liara lurches forward, terrified of the idea of Shepard leaving. Shepard turns, hearing her movement. They're close. Liara can see too clearly the scar that runs through Shepard's eyebrow, that cuts through her chin. What other hidden scars does she have? Liara is possessed by the desire to kiss those scars, to kiss her smirking, teasing mouth. What's wrong with her? Didn't she just tell Shepard everything was moving too quickly? She is unused to experiencing lust. How bothersome and inappropriate at this time. "I don't want you to leave angry," Liara says breathlessly. She is unaware of how she wrings her hands. "It's… I've explained to you before… I'm not as… experienced in these matters. You're not just any person, not just any human. You're Shepard, the first human Spectre."
"Thanks for the reminder." She says dryly. "I'm just Shepard, Liara. I'm no martyr. You know that. Don't use whatever you're projecting onto me as an excuse to hold back."
Liara winces at the words. Once again, she feels helpless. She doesn't know how to say again that she's scared, that she's afraid of what it all might mean or how she fears it might mean too much to her and not enough to Shepard. "I'm not…"
"I can't figure you out. Sometimes I look at you and I think that all you want is to have me near. To have me touch you." Shepard says. Liara meets her gaze for only seconds before she fidgets and looks away with embarrassment. Yes. That is true. "And sometimes I think you only see the Butcher of Torfan."
"That's not true." Is it? She doesn't always agree with Shepard but it doesn't mean that she sees her only as a monster with no depth to her. "You've made difficult decisions that I wouldn't make."
"I've saved a lot of lives."
"And thrown others away."
"I've gotten the job done."
"At what cost?"
"Mh." She lifts her hand to Liara's face. Liara moves her face against it, craving her warmth, despite the argument they may be having. Maybe she's the terrible one giving Shepard mixed signals. Shepard lowers her voice. She manages to sound soft and feral at the same time. "Ask me to stay, Liara."
Liara looks at Shepard. She can't still her heart. "Is that an order?" She doesn't know if she wants it to be.
"No." Shepard says. Liara closes her eyes. She pulls away. Shepard lowers her arm back to her side. "No hard feelings, T'soni." She turns away. The door to her office hisses open. White pale light floods into her office, making Shepard into a black shadow. "By the way… good job on Noveria. I never wanted it to play out that way… but you made—You made us proud."
Shepard departs and once again all light is cut away. Liara is left in the darkness, counting questions, counting shadows.
