Liara stood in one of the ruined hotel rooms, her omnitool glowing as it played back the Shadow Broker's last message to Vasir.

"..casualties not a concern."

Myla walked up behind her old friend, struggling to recognize the old Liara in the cold lines of this new woman. "Vasir's dead," she said flatly.

Liara didn't react but allowed a beat of silence. She turned. "I'm putting the data through to the Normandy's computers. We can be at the Shadow Broker's base in a few hours." She began walking back to the skycar, talking as she strode. "He'll know about Vasir before long. If he decides to kill Feron…" Her voice trailed off.

Myla touched her arm. "We'll get him out alive, Liara. I swear it."

"I know." Liara pulled away from her. "You're here to help." Her tone changed, sad, almost resigned. "Just like always."

"That's not a good thing?" Myla smiled encouragingly, hoping she'd see the light come back into the asari's eyes.

T'soni regarded her seriously. "When we first met on Therum, you saved me from the geth. You fought a krogan battlemaster while I cowered. Now you're doing it again. And I'm still leaning on you for help."

A thousand logical arguments—I've been trained, I have experience, I'm used to it—weren't right, couldn't be right, so Myla chose the only response that made sense.

"That's what friends do, Liara."

The asari turned and walked away, continuing as if she hadn't heard. "I can get us there, based on Sekat's data. The Normandy's stealth drive will keep them from detecting us. The Shadow Broker's agents are still shooting their way through Illium," she lowered her voice thoughtfully, "With luck, they won't notice we've left until it's too late."

Myla stopped, arching an eyebrow. "That's a little cold. They killed innocent people." The old Liara would have cared.

Liara turned again, crystal blue eyes flicking away ashamedly, "You know what I mean."

So she knew there was something wrong. Myla pressed forward, almost pleading. "Do I? When I hit the ground back at the trade center, you went after Vasir without a backward look."

Liara shifted uncomfortably, moving to the view from the balcony railing. "A little fall wasn't going to kill you. I had to stay on Vasir. I had to stay rational, make the call." Shepard could hear an edge of desperation in her voice. "Like I did with Sekat."

You're trying to convince yourself but it's eating away at you. Shepard joined her, looking out at Illium's skyline, stealing a glance at her friends strained face. "That's Vasir's fault, not yours."

"Sekat had no idea what the stakes were. I put him in harm's way to get the data I needed. And I'd do it again." Liara's tone didn't deviate from her standard soft smokiness, and Myla began to doubt her estimation of her friend's change. Had two years really hardened Liara into this…callous schemer? No, not Liara.

The asari pushed off from the railing, a businesslike certainty hardening her features and voice. "But from here on out, things will be simple. Get in, get Feron, get out."

They passed the flaming wreckage of Vasir's skycar.

"…And kill anyone who tries to stop us."

Myla felt betrayed—she'd come for her friend but found only her shell.

"That's it?" she asked, incredulity edging her voice. "Liara, what happened to you?"

Liara spun to face her, an untouchable sadness in her blue eyes. "What do you want me to say, Shepard? That I mourned you? That I feel guilty because Feron got captured? I made mistakes. I lost people. I helped get you back and I want to do the same for Feron."

Shepard stepped back, nodding. She could understand that… wanting to atone for failing. She'd respect Liara's drive, but not if the asari was going to get herself killed. "When this is over—"

A spasm of impatience flickered across T'soni's face and she waved an arm sharply. "We'll talk once he's safe. Until then, enjoying the scenery is an insult to the man who saved both of us."

"Okay," Myla smiled gently, gesturing onwards, "Let's go."

….

Liara walked straight to the Galaxy Map when they boarded the Normandy, and, after a regretful glance to the cockpit, Shepard went after her. Hadley whistled softly as Liara stalked past his station and Matthews slapped the back of his head. Myla followed close on her heels, masking her concern and adopting the "calm, cool, and collected" demeanor required of commanding officers before their crew, even and especially in times of uncertainty.

And this was doubtlessly such a time.

Liara's transformation was more severe than Shepard had previously imagined — the once-shy asari scientist, always painfully cautious of the thoughts and feelings of others, had become a calculating and cold machine of revenge concerned only with her objectives and dismissing travesty as but a means to an end.

But that's not entirely true, thought Myla, noticing the nervous twitches of Liara's slim fingers as she strode. She's hardened, yes, but… defensively.

I made mistakes. I lost people.

So did I.

Liara rounded the CIC display, practically jogging up the shallow ramp to the galaxy map. Shepard noticed the pleased surprise on Chambers's face as the asari passed her, and the stealthy appreciative double-take, with detached amusement that quickly faded to melancholy. Liara had hardened out of necessity — the galaxy is tough and you either bend, break, or adapt.

T'soni gripped the railing, staring down intently at the blue-white-cream swirls of the holo. Her small knuckles were white.

"Hey." Myla touched the small of her back, coming to stand close beside her so that their words wouldn't be overheard. "Relax."

"What if I'm too late?" Her voice was barely audible and Myla felt a surge of pity for her friend. "What if the Shadow Broker's already killed Feron? What if —"

"What if's are useless," said Shepard firmly, prying Liara's hands free of the thin but sturdy railing. "There's no changing the past. You deal with what you've been dealt and you do your damnedest because that's all you can do."

T'soni ducked her head, a spasm of grief, frustration, and then serenity played across her smooth brow. "I…" She took a deep breath and summoned up a smile. It was too tired, sad, and much too fragile for Shepard's tastes, but it was a start. "Thank you."

"Would you like a tour of the ship?" Myla steered the asari away from the galaxy map, down the ramp.

"No, thank you, I believe—"

Kelly jumped in front of them, smiling widely. "You must be Dr. T'soni. I'm Kelly Chambers—pleased to meet you!" She stuck out her hand and Liara took it hesitantly.

"Hello, Ms. Chambers. Forgive me, I do not know your appropriate title."

Kelly shook her head once, her short red hair swishing. "Oh no, I'm not military or even an officer for Cerberus! Just call me Kelly."

"Kelly, then." Liara's smile was genuine this time, if a bit shy.

Thank you, Kelly, Myla sighed inwardly in relief.

"Kelly is my personal assistant," she said warmly, nodding to her yeoman. Liara listened politely, the tenseness leaving her face. "She helps me stay sane."

"Not a position I'd envy," teased Liara gently, her shoulders easing.

"Oh, no, it's a lot of fun!" Kelly widened her green eyes earnestly. "I even feed her fish occasionally."

T'soni cocked her head, bemused. "…Fish?"

Shepard snorted. "Yeah, the Normandy SR2 came with an aquarium, of all things."

"If you like," Kelly smiled at Liara, "I could take you on a tour of the ship."

The feeble warmth in Liara's face flickered and was replaced with uncertainty. She looked quickly to Shepard—seeking assurance or permission?

"Go ahead," Myla grinned encouragingly, "We've got a couple hours of flight-time. I've got to talk to a few people so you might as well try to relax. Try and get something to eat while you're at it."

"Alright, Shepard, thank you." Liara allowed herself to be led away by a beaming Chambers, her apprehensive expression softening under the redheaded yeoman's barrage of eager charm.

Shepard watched the two disappear into the elevator, guessed that Kelly was taking the asari to see Chakwas first. Smart move, she thought. Give her something familiar to work up from. Make her more comfortable.

Was that what they'd planned to do for me? The notion struck her unbidden. The attack on the facility had been unexpected—she wasn't supposed to wake up yet. And then Freedom's Progress…

After seeing Tali, Myla had been this close to leaving Cerberus and striking out on her own, the Illusive Man's credits be damned, but then… Familiar faces.

She leaned over the railing, staring through the holographic swirls of the galaxy map.

They'd given her Joker, the Normandy, Chakwas — all their chips on the table in a desperate gamble for her loyalty. That wasn't efficient strategy — it was enough, but it was sloppy. Not Cerberus wont.

Shepard clenched a fist and examined the minute tracings of fiery scars that spidered over white knuckles. She hadn't been finished — a creation birthed prematurely to a guardian unprepared.

How did they plan to tell me?

Miranda was in charge of the… project. She had been (and still was, to a degree) cold, calculating, and flawlessly pragmatic — she would have kept it simple, direct. Maybe even as impersonal as a bedside briefing and an OSD for review. But the Illusive Man was in charge of Miranda, and he loved deception, manipulation, coercion. He read a person carefully and exploited every strength, weakness, preference.

Familiar faces…

He would have used them — Joker and Chakwas. Have her wake up in a medbay bed — warm bright lights, clean white sheets, the steady bleeping of a heart monitor — and there'd be a familiar face to greet her.

Waking up to green eyes…

It probably would have been Joker — there was a sort of poetry to it. He'd been the last person she'd seen before her death, it was only fitting he'd be the first she saw in her new life.

I'd have liked that. It wouldn't make me love Cerberus, but I'd like that.

Shepard sighed, running a hand through her hair, reminding herself sternly of what she'd told Liara about "what-if's". She pushed off the cold railing. Her armor clicked as she walked down the galaxy map ramp — no point in changing into her casuals for a couple hours of downtime.

A sharp hunger pang clenched her stomach and she gritted her teeth, remembering Gardner's haggis threat. That's what I get for trying to keep everybody happy. Well, she wouldn't suffer alone. Her feet carried her to the cockpit.

...

A/N: Just a quick one. Read and review, please! :) Rest assured, I haven't forgotten about Billy...