Running: Liara
It is very late when Liara and Samantha finally complete their game of chess.
The human yawns and thanks Liara. "I appreciate it," she says. "I don't get a chance to play much these days."
"It was my pleasure, Samantha. We should play again another time."
"Still smarting from your humiliating defeat?"
"Hm. For such a young person, your arrogance is remarkable."
"Well, I do work closely with the commander."
"Good point."
"Goodnight, Liara. Thanks again for this."
"Goodnight."
Liara is left alone in the mess. Humans require so much sleep! Still, the fact that most of the crew is elsewhere is nothing to complain about. She likes these quiet hours, when she can leave her cabin but still be alone.
(She has a cabin now. When she informed Shepard that she required a private space to monitor her information feeds, the commander had offered the use of the XO's cabin. Only after insisting that Liara really wanted a private space because she'd had to make do with a cot behind the medbay on the original Normandy.)
The responsible thing to do would be to get in a few hours of work. Commander Shepard relies on the information that the Shadow Broker provides. Even if she did not, there are whole sections of information on the Crucible that have yet to be translated. So much to do.
Something in Liara rebels. Even if they are facing the Reapers, today they deserve to rest. No, not just rest. They deserve to celebrate! The genophage has been cured! A thousand years of anger and pain have finally been laid to rest by the most remarkable woman in the galaxy.
It occurs to Liara that she never congratulated Shepard. Well, she has some free time now, and chances are good that Shepard is not sleeping either.
…
Not only is Shepard's cabin empty, it smells odd. Liara's nostrils flare as she seeks out the source of the odor. It is harsh and chemical. Singularly unpleasant. No wonder the commander left.
Liara looks in the bathroom. A metal waste container sits in the sink, still damp. She finally recognizes the scent of cleaning supplies. What has Shepard been doing?
Where is Shepard?
…
From the hallway on the engineering deck, she has a clear view of the figure tirelessly running the length of the shuttle bay. Goddess, she feels tired just watching.
"How long has she been doing this?" Liara asks EDI.
"The commander left her cabin two hours, five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds ago. It took her nearly three full minutes to reach the shuttle bay and begin running." The AI pauses. "That is my reckoning by Earth Standard time. In Galactic Standard—"
"That is all right, EDI. I can do the conversion myself." She can, but she will not. It does not matter how long Shepard has been running like this. It is the running itself that is important.
There is something pure about the way a commando cares for her body, spending years of training and hours of practice honing herself into a weapon. Watching Shepard is like watching a commando. Even when the commander is only trying to… what is she doing exactly? Trying to push her body to its limits, yes, but there is more to the running than that. Liara catches glimpses of the commander's face from time to time. She cannot think of a word to describe what she sees. Something more visceral than agony, but laced through with fortitude. Eventually all signs of suffering will fade away, and Shepard will smile as though she never thought to run like this. To run like a caged thing that needs to feel the pain of slamming its body against the bars so that it can remember why it sits quietly most of the time.
The commander can never appreciate a victory until she has finished burying her reaction to the inevitable losses.
Liara resists the urge to press her forehead against the glass.
…
"Here."
Shepard is still lying on the ground. She opens her eyes at the sound of Liara's voice, reaches up and accepts the bottle of water the asari hands to her. "Thanks," she says quietly.
Liara sits near Shepard's left shoulder and looks down at her friend. "Do you want me to ask if you are all right?" she asks.
The human makes a face and says nothing. She pours some of the water over her face. It wets her hair and her shirt. Before Liara can offer the towel she has taken from Lieutenant Vega's stockpile of athletic supplies, Shepard has wiped herself dry with the small robe that caused her to fall. It is the same one she used to blot Liara's tears over Palavan.
"What is this called?" Liara asks, touching the garment.
Shepard looks confused. "Do you mean my sweatshirt?"
"Sweatshirt." What an unpleasant name.
For a while they say nothing.
"Do you remember my scar?" Shepard's question breaks unexpectedly into the silence.
"Scar?"
"From before. On my face?"
"I remember." Liara reaches out and traces a short stretch of Shepard's jaw with a finger. "It was right here."
"Yeah," the commander sighs. "Good." She pauses. "You never asked about it."
"About your scar?"
"When I came back, everyone asked about the scar. Even my mother, the first time she got me on vidcom. Not you, though."
Did Shepard want her to ask about it? "Well, to be fair, I knew that you were coming back. Perhaps I expected small differences?"
"You're a terrible liar, Liara. Your face turns all kinds of revealing colors. Well, shades of blue." She smiles. "You know, after you came aboard the first Normandy, Ashley and I decided we could trust you. We decided that because you probably didn't lie very often you were probably really bad at it."
"I can lie!"
"Not well. That's why half the ship knows that you're the Shadow Broker." The commander closes her eyes again. "Why did you give me to Cerberus?"
They have had this conversation before. More than once. Liara has never enjoyed it. "You know why."
"Pretend that I don't. Why did you give me to Cerberus?"
There are so many ways Liara could answer that question. "The galaxy needed you. They said that they could bring you back."
"The galaxy didn't think it needed me."
"I knew better."
"Know-it-all." A fond smile flickers over Shepard's face when she says the words. She opens her eyes and looks up at Liara. "Still think you made the right call?"
"Do you?" She should have asked Shepard this question a long time ago. None of this would be worth it if Shepard regretted being brought back.
"Ask me sometime when the Reapers aren't trying to kill us all."
"I am asking you now."
"Mean, so mean." The words are light, but it is clear that the commander is thinking. Her face goes still and her eyes lose their focus. "I don't know," she says finally. "I guess I still don't understand why me."
"It was selfish, really," Liara explains. She smiles despite the fact that her heart is sinking. "I did not have any other friends."
"Good-looking, intelligent asari like you? You could've made new ones."
"You really do not remember how awkward I was when we first met, do you?"
"Was?" Shepard teases.
Liara scowls. "I should have left you for dead."
"But you would've missed me!"
"I would have gotten over it. Eventually."
"Really?"
"No."
"That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"For what it is worth, Shepard, I am telling the truth."
"That's what makes it so nice." Shepard looks away. "Liara," she says as she stares at the Kodiak, "even with all of this," she waves her hand, and Liara knows she means the war and the Reapers, not the shuttle bay, "I'm glad to be back. To be here. Honest."
It might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to Liara.