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She rarely slept. Sleeping was a luxury she could not afford. It came at an even steeper price after she had become Shadow Broker, especially now that all of her equipment was crammed into the old executive officer's quarters on the Normandy. The unhealthy glow of her information network's monitors normally lit the room like a landing pad. Tonight, however, their persistent shine had been extinguished at Samantha Traynor's behest.
After helping Liara back to her quarters, Samantha had stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, a frown creasing her cheeks. Liara had weakly protested as the specialist became a whirlwind of activity, shutting off every last monitor until the only light in the room came from Glyph's hovering orb.
"You need rest," Traynor explained. "It was bright as day in here, Liara." Noticing the stricken look on her face, the human had shaken her head and chuckled softly. "Oh come on, it's only for a couple of hours."
Liara reluctantly agreed, touched by Samantha's caring. There were few good things currently in Liara's life that she found herself wanting to hold on to the slightest kindnesses. She had sincerely thanked the young specialist as she left, promising to sleep for a few hours.
Hours later, a clinking noise dragged Liara out of the most decent slumber she'd had in ages. She blinked a few times trying to orient herself. It didn't take long for her to spot the source of the noise that had awoken her, although with wakefulness came discomfort. She ground her teeth together, remaining otherwise immobile.
Shepard sat on a chair beside her bed, the hood of her N7 sweatshirt snugged close about her cheeks to minimize the luminosity of her scars. In her hand she held a tumbler, absently swishing the contents. The ice tinkled against the side of the glass, breaking through the gentle hum of the equipment.
It upset Liara that Shepard had let herself into her quarters uninvited, but the commander had painstakingly pointed out that it was her ship and she would go wherever she pleased. Liara didn't have to like it; if she wanted to be in the best place to assist with the galactic war effort she would have to abide by it—however unsettling.
But the commander looked distant and vulnerable, taking the edge off Liara's irritation.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Liara asked not bothering to mask a hint of sarcasm. She dragged herself into a sit, pulling the covers up to her chin as the only armour available to her. Shepard was startled and spilled the contents of her glass over her hand.
"Shit," Shepard muttered, sucking her fingers. "That was good, aged scotch. Rare."
Liara reached out and clicked on her bedside lamp. The commander squinted. "What are you doing in my quarters, Shepard?"
All traces of vulnerability vanished as a mischievous grin quirked Shepard's lips. "I couldn't fuck—" Liara wanted to ignore the visceral reaction her body had to the way Shepard said the word. It was pointless. Her face heated. "—so I thought I'd drink."
Liara wondered what was wrong with her, because whatever thin threads of anger she still held evaporated, replaced by unsettling confusion and—desire? She loathed that Shepard could turn her on herself so easily. Half asleep and in pain, Liara could barely keep her thoughts composed. She decided composure was overrated.
She strove for it anyway.
Taking a deep, centering breath, Liara met Shepard's intense gaze. "Muireall, please, you need to go. I promise I will speak with you in the morning."
"Don't! Don't call me that," Shepard hissed and then dropped her voice to an anguished whisper. "Nobody calls me that."
Shepard's distress at the use of her given name gave Liara a tiny edge. As much as she wished to expedite Shepard's departure from her room, she would not take advantage of the commander's unusual weakness. Instead she remained silent, watching as Shepard stood up and downed what remained of her drink.
She put the glass down. She dragged her fingers through her hair. She paced.
Liara bore witness to Shepard's slow unravelling.
"What the hell are you doing to me?" Shepard's voice was full of unfamiliar agony. She had stopped pacing with her back to Liara, shoulders slumped forward, hands clenched at her sides. Because no answer was forthcoming, Shepard turned to Liara. The distant vulnerability had resurfaced. "You almost died."
Liara had no idea what to say. She felt unnerved as the commander faltered. Traynor had been right, but Shepard wasn't supposed to lose her footing. Liara realized she was primarily responsible, although she hadn't meant for things to deteriorate to such a degree.
In her panic tact failed her. She took the hard line. "This is war, Shepard. I suspect most of us will die. I am prepared to lay down my life so that you have a chance at success."
"I didn't ask for this responsibility!"
"Nevertheless it is yours to bear."
"I don't want—I refuse to pay the price!"
"None of us want to, yet we are all paying some price. I paid mine by ensuring your survival."
Shepard's gaze sharpened. "You did it on purpose, didn't you?"
Unable to meet Shepard's eyes, Liara looked down at the sheets pooled around her legs and didn't answer.
In a flurry of movement, Shepard knelt on the bed and proceeded to scramble on her hands and knees until she loomed over Liara. She roughly grabbed Liara's chin and forced the asari to look into her eyes. "You drew off those husks knowing you probably wouldn't survive."
Liara's lips trembled. She still couldn't trust herself to speak so she merely nodded. Shepard's face reddened in anger and she released Liara to smash a fist into the wall beside her head. "Fuck, Liara. Why?"
"You are the only one who matters."
"No. No!"
"Yes, Shepard!" Liara shouted, driven to frustration by Shepard's petulant denial. Ignoring the pain flaring in her side, she gripped the commander by the shoulders. "You ended Saren, destroyed the Collectors, and you are the only one who has killed a reaper. You have the Prothean cypher, you have seen their visions. You hold all the keys. Those of us that follow you do so because we know you are our only hope." Liara couldn't stop there. "I follow you, would die for you, because I—" Liara's voice thickened with emotion "—love you."
Shame heated her face and she looked away, tears springing to her eyes and tracking down her cheeks.
Shepard, stunned, sat back opposite Liara. She covered her face with her hands. Her words came out like a sigh. "You can't. I'm a monster."
"As if I had a choice," Liara muttered, suddenly very tired. "You think I wanted this? You have no idea how hard I fought it. But you are not a monster. I have seen the goodness in you, Shepard. It is buried deep beneath the selfishness, the volatility, the deviousness. It is hidden because you fiercely needed to protect it. At first I thought I could coax it out. Later I realized it did not matter. I did not want to change you on a fundamental level the way you changed me."
"I'm sorry."
Liara shook her head. "I am not looking for an apology." Mortified by her admission, she hastily backhanded the saline from her cheeks. "You have made it excruciatingly clear how you feel about me—"
Shepard's eyes glimmered as she silenced Liara by placing a finger over her lips. "When I said I didn't want that from you… I only meant… I meant… I didn't want you that way. The way I—need others."
"What are you saying?" Liara sniffled, terrified of hope.
Shepard squeezed her eyes shut. She was never interested enough to explain her feelings to another. She found articulating them difficult. "I don't know." Opening her eyes, she found herself caught by an intense blue gaze. Her heart began to pound.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Shepard leaned forward. She tilted Liara's head back and placed a very delicate kiss on her mouth, afraid of using too much pressure, unsure of how it was supposed to feel. "I don't do that. Ever. Do you understand now?"
Air stilled in the room, the only discernible sound was that of Shepard's unsteady breathing. A kiss alone was a monumental admission for the commander. Unable to stop herself, Liara fisted her fingers in Shepard's hair at the base of her neck.
Shepard exhaled a pent up breath.
Liara dragged her down, crushing her lips against the velvety heat of the commander's. Their second kiss was feral.
It was bruising.
It tasted of scotch.
Liara had never experienced anything so sweet.
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