21 – Not Blue
"Nice to get around to that rain check," Samantha says brightly, looking out over the Presidium from the benches under the trees, just off the Commons Marketplace.
I wish that's what it was, just picking up a belated lunch date. She is happily eating a curiously named delicacy, supposedly of Turian origin but simulated for human consumption.
Looks a little too grey for me.
"Smart move meeting here," she says. "I can't walk by that game stall without stopping. And you don't have to hear about what I bought for the next hour."
"It's good you've been getting off-ship," I nod. The tension holds my body rigid.
"Mind you," she says, chewing a rather large bite. "You're missing the model ship kiosk you like. We could go back there if you want to check it out. And just avoid the games. You don't pay me enough to splurge."
I look at my Omni-tool. I should be meeting someone shortly.
It has to be now. Or never. It can't be never because I promised Aria.
I didn't strictly promise her, but I think it was implied this had to happen.
So it has to happen now. Because I can't take this back onto the Normandy. It's safer out where there are people.
Because why? She'll hit me? Try to cause a scene? Crash the ship's comms systems?
She wouldn't. She's reasonable. And a consummate professional. Apart from the sneaky glances at my rear when I'm on the CIC.
I think it's because I've never done this before. My first broke up with me – and that was because her parents were being transferred off-station to colony garrison.
It was heart-breaking. I begged for it not to end. Insisted we could do long distance. I was young, un-jaded and I didn't think that light years meant anything, even with no mode of transportation.
Last I heard Melanie's parents were posted on Horizon.
I can't believe that's the first time I've thought about that.
I could try and forgive myself for it – I had a lot on my mind, recently back from the dead and was facing an unknown enemy. And then there was Ash...
But I'm not going to. I should have remembered; could have found out if she stayed on there. I know colony life was what she wanted, she talked about it often enough; while I wanted a career with the Alliance. Looking back, it never would have worked with us. But you don't know that when you're fifteen.
That's my only proper experience of a break-up. Any of the sparse encounters over the years were been measured in hours, not weeks and thus didn't qualify.
And Liara: I just let go.
But then why do I need to do this at all?
There could be a situation where it isn't necessary.
Maybe... could be... the three of us.
Crazy, yes, but I could completely avoid the impending awkward conversation, and replace it with another awkward conversation that might have a happier ending.
Samantha thinks Aria's hot. That should be enough.
And Aria did reveal some begrudging respect for Traynor when she told me about Traynor showing up at Purgatory. I think Aria started the diatribe with intent to make fun of Samantha, but to my ears it seemed like Aria enjoyed the company of another human. Though Aria probably didn't kill her as favour to me.
We would need to use Aria's shower for the three of us. My cabin's one is just too small. And EDI's about. Which probably was the kink for Samantha, now I think about it.
But with Aria's fury from my meld-fail before going to Rannoch, I think it's safe to say she's a touch on the possessive side.
And I think that Aria's a little too intense and black-eyed for Samantha's brand of love-making.
No. God.
No.
What the Hell?
Jesus, this idiotic 'solution' is too far even for my current mode of over-sexed, deviant behaviour.
Goddess. What would Liara think of me?
Not the point.
It would be highly inappropriate to suggest a three-way, and likely extremely dangerous to Samantha's health.
Even though it looks like that simul-Turian hoagie montrosity is taking care of that right now.
"Samantha," I say suddenly, grabbing her free hand.
"Shepard," she says, startled, with a full mouth.
"We have to break up," I say decisively.
She takes a moments pause. Mouth is still full. She chews rapidly and swallows.
"Break up what?" she echoes.
"Us..." I say quietly. The puzzled look on her face makes me wonder if her translator's broken.
Then I remember we both speak human English. Right.
"I thought we weren't serious, Commander," she says nonchalantly, wiping the ends of her mouth with a napkin.
Thank God: at least she's put down the hoagie from hell. My Carnifex is primed to make sure it dies.
"I know," I nod, trying to keep a solemn expression in the face of her indifference. "I'm meaning anything... We have to stop anything."
"Oh," she says, her brow furrowing slightly. "Is it anyone on the Normandy? Is there a problem there?"
"No, no problem," I say.
"OK."
I may be an amateur at this, but it seems to be going too well. She seems fine with it.
"It's Aria, isn't it? She doesn't want me around you any more. Well, like that anyway," Traynor accuses. "Not much she can do about work."
"No. Well, yes, it is about her but-"
"I knew she was threatened," Traynor laughs bitterly.
"She usually does the threatening," I mumble awkwardly.
"I recall. Fondly," she says pointedly, her steeled façade starting to slip a little as she hugs her arms around her.
"Heard about that," I contribute uselessly.
"Look, Shepard. I think you being with Aria is probably one of the most stupid things you've done in your illustrious career. But you're clearly going through something and she's obviously giving you something no one else can," she says, sucking air in through her teeth. "Please – be careful."
"Careful of what?"
"Aria," she says in a low voice. "I'm not saying you don't know what you're getting into: who she is and what she does. But I've been reading some chatter on sub-channels originating from the Citadel. I think she's starting to make her presence felt."
This takes me by surprise. Is it paranoia? Mistake in the data? A last ditch attempt to show me I'm making the wrong decision? Or a genuine warning?
Knowing the ability and good intentions Traynor's always displayed, I'd hazard that the last one would be most likely.
I accept her caution uneasily. I've been wilfully unaware of Aria's activities, maybe even complicit. I haven't been looking beyond what Aria's shown to me: mostly as I've been so drunk on her, I didn't care to see behind the curtain. I hope this is a mistake. Or at best, just her knocking some criminals around.
But I'm not going to judge her until I know there's something more than 'sub-channel chatter', whatever the Hell that is. She deserves that much.
"I will be careful," I affirm.
"Good. And if you need any help," she ventures, voice fading a little. "I'm here."
"You really don't need to do that."
"Who else would you get?"
I look at her, wondering if I am making a mistake. She is kind and funny. Clever and sweet. A bigger person than me for certain. At this point in the break-up I believe I was holding Melanie's favourite boots hostage, demanding a reconciliation.
I never even considered the possibility of Traynor as anything more. Why wouldn't I do that? Aria just felt like the obvious conclusion, and I don't know what kind of person I am if that seems more logical than the gentle and brilliant woman sitting beside me.
I think I could utter the It's not you, it's me line with heartfelt honesty, but I know Samantha doesn't much care for the canned response.
My omni-tool chirps out a reminder tone that breaks my consideration. Probably better this way.
"I'm sorry, but I actually need to go," I say hesitantly. "Genuinely."
"Always do, Commander," she says sadly.
"I am sorry, Sam. And thank you," I tell her, a hand on her knee. Which I don't think she feels comfortable with, so I pull it carefully back.
"Was great fun while it lasted," she shrugs, covering her mouth for a shallow cough. Which I believe she was using as cover to reach her eyes. "Never been so clean."
"Me neither," I agree whole-heartedly. She got me through some difficult times. "We can share custody of my shower, if you want."
"That won't be necessary. Unless I've had a really bad day... And you don't have to worry about working together, Shepard," she says, clearing her throat.
"I know I don't," I nod. "But thank you."
"OK. Well that's it then, isn't it," she says with a long exhalation.
"Yeah," I say, feeling suddenly emotional as I stand up. "I'll see you back on-board."
"Course, Commander," she smiles weakly. "I'll be there."
My mouth opens to say thank you yet again, but I figure it's overkill by now.
Instead, I turn and head up for the Commons Apartments to make my next appointment.
"I got your message, Miranda," I say by way of greeting my old friend in the luxury apartment she seems to camped out in. "Is this about your sister?
She turns as I enter: Miranda, ever the poised and flawless creature, looks less than her usual self. When I saw her a couple of months ago as she was hiding from Cerberus she didn't look as fraught as she does now. Of course with Miranda everything is internal. You just have to learn how to read the signs. The slightest brow crease expresses what a wailing funeral widow can.
"Shepard. I need access to Alliance resources. I can't say any more. You'll just have to trust me," Miranda says, straight to business. She looks like she's up against a wall, and that's usually when she's at her most vulnerable and most inventive.
"You'll have your access, Miranda," I nod. She knows I trust her. "But I don't like the sound of this."
"I know, and thank you. It means a lot," she says graciously.
"No problem," I murmur softly, seeing the stress of her situation evident on her face. "You could come back to the Normandy. We'll help you find Oriana. And I could really use you."
She braces herself on the bars in front of the panoramic windows the apartment offers.
"Oh, I know you could," Miranda says, a hint of levity in her voice that indicates she knows something.
I join my friend at the window, looking down at the view of the Presidium Commons.
There's a clear line of sight to the very spot that I was but five minutes ago.
I look at her, really scrutinising any muscle spasm or facial twitch. She's giving nothing away.
I then look over her shoulder to the mounted sniper rifle. I know that model: listening to Garrus's lectures on Black Widow superiority has taught me a thing or two for a girl who prefers to see the white of the eye before dispatching the foe.
In that series, the reload time isn't worth the impact of the shot, but the scope is one of the market-leaders. Combine it with the Distance Aural mod and you've got something worth the credits for reconnaissance work.
"Goddamnit, Miranda," I huff, hanging my head as I lean over the bars. "You were spying on me? Can anyone not spy on me?"
"Relax Commander Paranoid," she says. "I wasn't spying on you. I was spying on the Salarian in the mods shop behind you. Just happened to notice a scene."
"There was no scene," I scoff. "And listening as well, I take it?"
"I don't know how to turn it off," she says, barely suppressing a smirk.
"It un-clips," I mutter, crossing to the bed to flop down.
"So I hear that you've got yourself into quite a mess," she says, hands on hips. "Mostly of your own making."
"To be fair, she started it," I tell her defensively, not really believing myself and sounding a bit pathetic into the bargain. Samantha wasn't to know that naked, attractive woman in my shower was an aphrodisiac for me. "She's the Comms Specialist on the Normandy,"
"I know Shepard, I cross-referenced that about twenty minutes ago," she says. "And, I have to say, she's very not blue."
"Hilarious," I remark, rolling my eyes.
"Cause I've heard about another one that is. And it's not the prothean archaeologist you picked up on Mars," she says, her stare demanding answers.
I feel like I'm getting in trouble. I probably should. I probably deserve it.
"What happened?" Miranda probes. "You didn't say anything last I saw you. I thought you and Liara would've just... fallen back into place."
"Is my love life really an issue?" I ask her, doing my damndest to deflect. "Aren't there bigger things going on?"
"Gargantuan, behemoth-like things going on," Miranda agrees. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't matter. Especially if it's effecting you."
"It's not," I shrug unconvincingly.
I wish I was a better liar.
"What happened?" she asks, more softly, as she takes a seat next to me.
"We didn't fall back into place," I say, chewing my lip. "It wasn't happening. I could have screamed my need to be with her from a skycar at the top of the Presidium, and she would've shrugged. I was trying to tie her to something solid, and it didn't seem like she wanted that burden. So I stopped trying."
"Shepard," Miranda murmurs sympathetically.
"It's fine. And as you've heard I've enjoyed freedom as a result," I say sarcastically, rubbing my hands over my face as if that'll help clear the fog of my mind.
"Little too much," Miranda says. Following with an incredulous: "Really – Aria – really?"
"Would it make any more sense if I told you the sex was good?"
"Sex is good if you're good at sex," Miranda scoffs. "Sex with a psycho is suicidal."
"She's not a psycho," I dismiss lightly. "Bit of a bad girl, but mentally stable. Calculating, ruthless, impatient, demanding – but not insane."
"Well, when you describe her like that," Miranda says, smothering a laugh. "And I think she'd slap you with a warp field for calling her a 'bit of a bad girl'."
I shrug. She likes the moniker well enough in the dark. That's usually when I'm trying to wind her up for my benefit. She's so easy to play.
"She's what I need right now," I nod, quite sure of myself for once.
"Shepard – You want love and commitment – But you go for Aria T'Loak?" Miranda asks seriously.
"Wasn't like that," I dismiss, struggling to explain. "I didn't say that I wanted that-"
"But that's the problem with you and Liara, wasn't it?" she accuses.
"I wanted her to be in it with me," I impress upon her.
"No, you wanted her to show it. She was 'in it', Shepard," Miranda corrects me.
"I don't-"
"Trust me," Miranda says, with a look that says Don't forget what she did for you.
I'll never forget.
But I would do that for Garrus or Tali – Or most definitely Liara.
If he died and some shady Turian supremacy group with deep pockets told me they could bring him back, I'd walk on barefoot on Menae with a pyjak in my cloaca to get his body to them.
Course, it's easy saying that as I can't envision a situation where that might be required. But I'd go through fire for any of them. Doesn't mean I dream of blue babies with them.
"And if you wanted someone to love you and gush about you, you should have stuck with Traynor," Miranda says pointedly. "From that scene down there, it seemed like she's completely besotted with you."
God, no, it was all just supposed to be chess.
"She didn't seem-"
"She did. And does, Shepard. You're leaving carnage in your wake," Miranda warns.
"How the hell do you know all this? I know you're good, I know you're insightful, but..."
"I'm more than good, Shepard," Miranda smirks. "I'm perfect. And I have plenty of 'eyes'."
"More spying," I comment with a grunt.
"You dump the nice one, you let the one you love leave, and instead you chase someone emotionally unattainable," she says, trying to make it sound like the most ludicrous thing to ever have been done. "She'll never say she loves you."
I try to picture it. Even with Aria at her most vulnerable and docile, and I'm not sure I could imagine her forcing those words from her lips.
But she keeps telling me that I don't know a damn thing about her.
"She doesn't have to," I say, chewing my lip again. "There's passion there. Outward, throttling passion. I have no doubt that she wants to be with me."
"That's enough?"
I don't respond. Miranda nods her head, ready to back off.
"Have we had enough girl talk?" I ask her, with a hopeful smile.
"Enough by half," Miranda replies. "But we had a lot of catching up to do."
"I don't recall a lot of relationship advice last year."
"You wouldn't, after a barrel of alcohol," she laughs, before adding quickly: "But that's classified."
I grimace.
"I never said thank you for that."
"You don't have to," she says dismissively. "And though personal relationships are not my own forte, you need someone to help you with yours considering the state you're in."
"I have the guys on-board," I reason.
"Garrus would call you out if you were being reckless with lives, not hearts. Tali's probably caught between personal loyalties, with world-rebuilding on her mind. And the one who would have knocked you down on your conduct unbecoming is part of the problem. And gone," Miranda sums up, with a sad note at the end.
After a brief moment, I get the courage. She said it, she has 'eyes'. I know Miranda has sources on the Citadel and beyond. She just might...
"Do you know where she's gone?"
"I don't know, Shepard," she says apologetically. "I know Liara left the Citadel a few weeks ago, but I don't know where to. I know that the Asari are getting nervous that the Reapers are finally coming to their door. Issued an edict for their best and brightest daughters to return home to fight the threat. I don't know if she'd heed that considering her work with the Alliance."
"I don't know if it makes them lucky that the war's left them this long," I murmur, images of Earth and Palaven entering my mind unbidden. I return to the window, hoping for the calm sights of the Presidium to erase them. For now at least. "Depends if they've made the most of the delay to prepare."
And now it's Liara on Thessia in my mind. I don't even really know what Thessia looks like, beyond vids years ago. When I hear 'Thessia' I'm drawn back to three years ago, in that tiny room behind the med-bay and imagining the planet through Liara's enthusiasm. Now I just know she's on a planet with her people, and a Reaper Destroyer coming towards her-
No. She really wouldn't be so stupid. There's so much she can do from elsewhere rather than heeding an order from the Matriarch's to fight and die to protect them.
No. She wouldn't.
"Before the Collectors confirmed their interest in humans with hitting colonies and making that abomination," Miranda recoils briefly at our shared memory of the Human Reaper on the Collector base, as she comes to join me. "I believe the first assumption was the apex race Sovereign spoke of would be the Asari – within Cerberus intelligence, anyway."
"They are thousands of years more advanced than us," I say.
"But in a single Asari lifetime, we went from hearth-fires and jousting, to having a seat on the Citadel Council. We rose so quickly that we pissed a lot of people off," Miranda says. "Hence the backlash, hence the strength of Cerberus."
"Think that's why they want us? Quick learners?"
"No, I think you just annoyed them too much, Shepard," Miranda jokes. "So they're picking on all of us."
"They started it," I point out.
"I think the best theory was Mordin's: our DNA, much more malleable and diverse than others. We're ideal genetically, apparently," she says dryly. "Wish someone had told my father that."
"We've been through this," I say sternly, still feeling the need to shut down her bitter mood swings that consume her with resentment and hate for her father. "You're more than your genetics. You proved that last year. Your augments didn't make you tell the Illusive Man to shove it."
"Just following your lead," she says, inclining her head.
"I'd be interested to know which one of us he wants dead more. Like if he had an either/or choice," I pose, trying to picture his smoking bastard face at this moment.
"Probably you."
"Nah, probably you. If they killed me, you'd just bring me back," I smile.
"It's what I do," she laughs.
As the laugh dies, we stare out over the Presidium enjoying the briefest illusion of peace. It's a comfortable silence.
I hear her sigh. She checks her omni-tool.
"I hate to say it, but I should get moving," she says reluctantly. "But thanks, Shepard: this has genuinely been the highlight of my week. Talking to another person without calculating if warping them will get me more information or not"
"Pro-tip: Usually does," I tell her. "But it'll make you feel bad. Best to ask nicely."
"You would say that," she groans.
"Miranda – Normandy invitation still stands. We can find your sister," I promise.
"Thanks Shepard. But I think you have several worlds to save," she says sadly. "Be safe."
"You too."