Her scars look angry, worse than I have ever seen.
I feel a blend of relief and worry staining the single-track thought, as the shuttle door slides open.
The heavy shadows around her eyes speak of absolute exhaustion, and the horrific red scars are tearing across her skin in a map of anger and pain, lighting up her usually deep brown eyes into something both enticing and terrifying.
Neither of us speaks for a moment, not quite knowing what to say. Does she know that I know about the relay? I had a high level mole in the Alliance secure a copy of the mission report for me. Does she know that my mind is racing with unanswered questions and concern and apprehension?
There is something in her face, beyond the exhaustion. The usually harsh expression I know stays with her long after stress and battle is completely absent: her brow is furrowed instead into worry and her lips have the slightest curl downwards.
She glances down, breaking the eye contact that seemed to absorb time itself, though it was likely just several seconds, then hops down from the shuttle towards me.
'Liara.' My name sounds as it always does on her lips: as if she is reverently speaking the name of the Goddess herself. I take her hand, feeling it damp and clammy in my grasp, and draw her into an embrace, hearing her sigh softly.
Even after she returned from the Omega 4 relay, she was not like this. Then she was tense, tormented and upset, lashing out in a way I know still burns her with shame, but nothing like this. Her scars are throbbing angrily, but her body language is hesitant, almost scared, so I tighten my embrace, conflicted thoughts of worry and a vivid need to protect her from a non-existent threat dancing through my mind.
'I need to show you something, to... to... show you what I did, what you're... if we're going to...'
She pulls back slightly, to look into my eyes.
Goddess...
Something is clearly haunting her but it will have to wait: she is absolutely exhausted, barely stringing together coherent sentences, and everything from her dull eyes to her usually proud bearing being ever so slightly slumped is screaming her need to simply shut down for several hours. She said show, does she mean a meld? She could not handle it in her current state.
'Not now, Faith,' I whisper, taking her hand again and turning, meaning to head towards the bed we share on this ship I still struggle to think of as my own. 'You need to sleep.'
I want to know what she means, of course, but for now, having her back safely is enough. I doubt I will be able to sleep, but her well-being is more important than my own curiosity at this moment.
Her hand gently tugs me back around. 'This is important, Liara.' Her voice carries more strength than before, and her face creases into frustration.
'Unless we will be in immediate danger in the next several hours, it can wait,' I say, seeing a flicker of emotion pass across her face. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her entire body shifting with the motion. When she looks at me again the exhaustion is gone.
The change is startling, like seeing her put on her battle armour... perhaps in a way she just did. 'Please, Liara, this... I can't just go to bed with you, with this on my mind.'
'Why not?' I ask, fear starting to creep through me. Whatever she wants to show me, to tell me must be serious... what is she so scared of? I read the report - her actions were necessary! Could she have... fabricated it?
'Because I won't be able to sleep. It'll...' She shakes her head angrily, short hair bouncing with the movement, 'After what I did, it'll feel like a lie.'
'It will never be a lie, Faith,' I say, stepping in close to her again. 'You know that whatever you have done, I am with you. Always.'
'Do you know what happened?' she asks in return.
I nod. 'I have heard about the relay, and procured a copy of your mission report. The Reapers would be here, now, if you did not destroy that relay. I know what you did, you did for a good reason.'
She winces away, next words barely audible, terrifying, wavering even as she whispers. 'What if I didn't?'
'W- what do you mean?' My heart starts pounding faster.
What happened?
'What if I blew up that relay and killed all those batarians, because I could see nothing but monsters?'
My blood runs cold. I have glimpsed the depths of her feelings about batarians; she struggles to see them as all the other races of the galaxy: with sides of both beauty and darkness. But of anybody in the galaxy she perhaps has the most reason to feel so: batarian slavers destroyed her home, killed her parents. They murdered her abused little sister before her eyes. She spent close to ten years in the Alliance combating slavery and piracy, seeing the very worst of the species, never allowing herself to, or wanting to, see the other side.
But to... to commit an act that will no doubt be labelled genocide for those feelings? Against innocents, for the most part? I do not believe it. I cannot.
That is not the person I fell in love with.
'Did you?' I ask, hearing my voice break in fear of her answer. My hand slips away from hers. The void it leaves is greater than the simple action should dictate.
'I don't know,' she looks down to her empty hand, and I feel a pang of regret... she needs me now. But if she did do that? Destroy an entire system full of people for her own feelings?
'That's what I need to show you. I... dammit... The Reapers were nearly there, Liara. They would have been there within a day.'
A day...
I read that in the report as well, but to actually hear it from her lips, to imagine it... it seems so impossible. We are not nearly ready, and now we have just months left to prepare! But we do have time now, because of her actions. She knows this!
'Then you had no choice! I know the decision must have been difficult-'
'That's just the point!' her explosive words startle me into a step backwards, but she looks instantly terrified, eyes wide, all traces of tiredness banished, taking a step back as well, as if away from herself. 'God, I'm sorry Liara, I didn't mean to... shit!'
I can almost sense her anguish as she closes her eyes, and sits on the step of the shuttle. 'I'm so sorry. I'm trying to do this, and all I can do is scare you.'
I sit beside her, speaking quietly. 'What do you mean?'
'I've dealt with this kind of thing alone for years, Liara, and the last time I tried to...' Her ducked head shuts me out, her hoarse voice grates my senses. 'The last time you were there after a tough mission I practically forced myself on you. You're... you're here, now, and I don't want to hurt you again.'
We both stay silent, remembering that night - she startled me, but did not hurt me as she imagines she did. The visceral passion was enjoyable, and when I grew uncomfortable she stopped the instant I asked her to. Perhaps she should not have done it, but it was a mistake forgiven. Eventually, I take a breath. 'I have told you before that I am here for you, however you need. I'm not leaving just because you are upset, and you did not hurt me.'
She looks up at me, eyes wide, but I continue before she can say anything. 'But that is not what I was asking about. What did you mean when you said "that's the point"? The point of what? That you found the decision difficult?'
She shakes her head, taking a deep breath, gazing intently into my eyes. 'The point is that I didn't. I pushed that button without a second thought, Liara.'
The emptiness in her voice crashes my thoughts to a halt.
Before I can even decide what to make of the revelation, she is talking again, quietly, seemingly without stopping for breath. 'I... I feel nothing about it, Liara. Like it never even happened. Shouldn't killing that many do... something... to me? What the hell is wrong with me?'
I frown. 'You are worrying about it now, Faith.'
She shakes her head again, more angrily this time. 'I'm worried that I'm not worrying! That I'm just sitting here, waiting for some big revelation or stroke of guilt to hit me, when I don't think it's ever going to!'
A rush of frustration drowns out the measured response I know I should make. 'And what do you think you should be doing? Breaking down on the floor? Feeling an insurmountable guilt? By the Goddess, you have just been involved in something most people would struggle to even comprehend, you are absolutely exhausted and refuse to sleep!' The frustration instantly burns out, leaving a deep care and concern, and I take her hand again. 'Please, Faith, come to bed with me. We can talk about this when you are rested.'
She stands suddenly, clutching a hand to her head, quickly pacing ahead of me. After several uncomfortable seconds, she stops, and looks down at me. 'I need to show you something.' Her eyes blink closed for a long moment, and when they open again they are full of a sadness that breaks my heart. 'I... need you to see it. Please.'
Desperation rings through her voice, and I eventually nod resignedly. 'Very well. But not here, and if I sense you are too tired, we will wait until you have slept.'
There is a brief pause before she responds quietly. 'Ok. Do you want to go to our room?' she holds out a hand, which I take, and she helps me stand as well. I do not let go.
'Yes.' We can at least be comfortable there... for whatever it is she wants... needs... to show me. An uncomfortable nervousness fills me as we make our way hand in hand through the large, mostly deserted ship; Garrus and Kasumi both agreed to let me greet Faith alone.
I knew almost as soon as I realised my feelings, all those years ago, that Faith would be a difficult woman to love. She kept herself locked away for so long, repressed so many feelings of anger and hurt and pain that she now struggles with her emotions, both the pleasant and unpleasant. But there is such strength there as well, forged by hardship, sealed by the love and friendship she has known since the first Normandy, and underneath that there is a tenderness, a deep, shy, clean flame that her life has tried again and again to extinguish, but never truly succeeded, and every time I catch a glimpse of it, I know it is all worth it... that perhaps one day there will be a time we can live in peace, where I can lay down the corrupting mantle of the Shadow Broker, where she can finally live a life without death haunting her every step.
But what worries her now, is worrying me. She often feels a deep shame in regards to her actions, but she has never been so terrified of my reaction.
Has she done something she fears I will disapprove? I do disapprove of some of her actions, her decisions, but have always been honest, and always respected her nevertheless, because her motivations have never been corrupt or selfish... something I cannot say about myself. I committed more than one shameful act, many no doubt leading to death, for my own business' profit, and know countless atrocities happen every day to fill the bank accounts of the Shadow Broker. It is horrifying at times. There are more wrongs than I could ever hope to right, though I do try to assuage the worst of them... despite my actions sometimes rippling out and causing even more suffering for people. The information business is not a pleasant trade, and more often than I would like I find myself using the human phrase "lesser of evils" to lighten the guilt, relying on Faith's ever present and accepting trust that my actions are the best I can do.
We finally reach our bedroom; a dull, unfurnished room like all the others on this ship and Faith sits on the bed, our hands naturally drifting apart. I miss the contact immediately, and sit close beside her on the simply decorated furniture, clad just in white sheets.
'Liara...' she says quietly, not looking at me. Her voice is clear, almost emotionless... I know that is a defence mechanism, and the words are truly hard for her to get out, judging by her flickering eyes and tense features. 'What I'm going to show you... it's terrible. Violent... Painful. But you need to... deserve to know, if you want... us.'
'I am no stranger to violence, Faith.' What could she mean? For years now my life has been battle and deadly subterfuge and death... she knows this!
'Not like this. I'm just warning you because...' she looks into my eyes, her hands clasped gently on her lap, voice still calm but eyes full of emotion. 'Because I've never hidden anything from you. You know that I'm a bit... you know that I'm like, under this shell I show the world, but you still see me, and accept me.'
She takes a deep breath, not breaking eye contact, and I let her continue. 'The one thing I'll never, ever do to you is lie to you, or hide anything from you. But what happened on Aratoht was...' her gaze flickers down, before catching mine again, eyes full of a mixture of determination, clearly to speak what has been haunting her, and a fear. What is she going to show me?
'It was awful, Liara. You'll...' I can almost hear the effort it takes to force out the next terrifying words, 'not think the same of me afterwards. Are you ready?'
I place a hand over hers, trying to keep my nerves from my voice. 'Always. Are you?'
She nods silently, and closes her eyes.
The physical contact helps me join the meld; gently manipulating my nervous system until I sink into the burning fire that is Faith Shepard. There is, as always, the slight natural resistance I gently push past, to be immediately rocked by the seething turmoil of thoughts and emotions and memories of another mixing with my own. It takes Faith a moment to collect herself - having been the "passive" partner in multiple melds during my education I know the sensation can be disorienting - before she, so tenderly, in a mental question full of a fear she can no longer hide, asks once more.
Are you ready? There are words, but I do not understand them: she thinks in her own language but with our souls embracing the words themselves are but a shell for the meaning beneath them.
I reply with a rush of care and acceptance... but do not hide my own fear, my anxiety about what I am about to see. Faith will not hide anything from me, and neither will I from her.
With a startling intensity, I am dragged into a vision of hell.
I can feel everything.
The torture room is shocking... of course I have heard of the practices of the batarians but to actually experience it like this... Horrific! Disgusting!
The image clarifies. Broken people of all races in cells lining the room. The taste of despair in the air: Body waste. Sweat. Diseased flesh. The lingering remains of forced sex. Something Faith has tasted far too many times before, hunting these monsters.
She had kept herself in check up to now... but I feel the mantle slipping as she stalks towards a batarian stumbling away from her. The memory is so intense, the meld so deep, that her steps become my own, her breath mine, her rage mine.
Faith's anger burns through me as I - she - stalks towards the batarian. Flashing images, memories held within the memory, of my - her - sister, executed before my - her - eyes. Hundreds and hundreds of corpses, their ruined eyes bleeding, in cells just like these one. My - her - simple, happy life, ripped away by the monsters!
I feel a flush of anticipation as the final gap is closed, a shortening of breath that sends a wonderful rush, a building wrath that now, as I have done a hundred times before, there can be retribution for what happened to my family, and finally I let out a satisfied groan as my knife drags across the batarian's throat, so deep I can hear it grind against the bone, his warm blood soaking my gloved hand, a wonderful burn flushing through my body.
I break the meld, gasping. Goddess... the depth of those feelings... I had no idea! I knew she harboured enmity, but never imagined it anything like that... it is horrible! To have lived with that all of her life, all of that pain and rage... I wish there was more I could do, to comfort, to take away that pain... why was she so scared? That I would judge her for her fury, when I cannot in honesty say I would not feel the same way? We both know that the rush of battle is intoxicating, and given her past, the act of enjoying killing a slaver is, whilst distasteful, certainly not one she should be ashamed of - I know her well enough to understand.
I force myself to open my eyes, seeing her look at me, eyes concerned.
'Are you ok?' she asks quietly. In response I raise a hand to draw lightly across her jaw, a contact she shies away from slightly.
She continues. 'Are you ready to see the rest?'
With a gentle nod I softly reach out mentally again, and find her mind quickly.
There is no specific memory this time.
Instead... a maelstrom.
Seeing the population count of Aratoht on a small feed.
The grim knowledge that two thirds of them are slaves.
The others...
Blood, warm over my hands.
Monsters.
Monsters, guilty by participation or association or tacit complicity.
The button I know will end all of their lives. There is no rush of excitement this time. Just a cold, hard, acceptance.
There is no hesitation. No attempt to warn the batarians.
The alert would be futile, despite it giving nearly a full days' warning. It would risk revealing her... the Alliance's... humanity's... part in the action. The batarians would not listen, whatever was said.
The journey from Bahak. Nothing. No guilt, no consideration for the lives lost.
A place I know is Arcturus station, explaining the actions to Admiral Hackett. Nothing. No guilt, no consideration for the lives extinguished.
The shuttle ride to Hagalaz... exhaustion. Concern beginning to settle in, about how little reaction there is. No guilt, no consideration for the lives taken.
The slaves have been put out of their misery. A sad, horrible fate, but one it is possible to come to terms with. The others...
Nothing.
I end the meld more slowly this time, breathing deeply. The image was less visceral, but much more troubling.
Those lives she just ended... they were not all slavers. Most of the free batarians on Aratoht were simple people living simple lives... only a few were even slave owners themselves.
Does she really see them that way?
She has seen the worst of the species, but they are more than that! Batarians have a poor reputation throughout the galaxy, but this is largely due to their own, highly oppressive government forbidding them to leave their own planets: most batarians are people just like any other, enjoying laughter and love... I even learned during my education that the majority of personal slave owners treat their slaves with respect. They are allowed to run shops, marry, live lives free of cruelty, perhaps even earn their freedom: most batarian slaves are subject to that status as part of a consensual agreement that allows them to work off debts... but there are also the abused slaves, the aliens, forced into it against their will, their defeated expressions and decrepit conditions. The image now forever burned into my mind. Was I naive, thinking that the majority of slaves were those in contracts?
It is by no means a system I would want any part of, but it is deeply embedded in their culture and the entire species is not deserving of death for that. Even the asari operate something similar, poorer families working for richer ones such as my own in return for financial support - though we certainly do not count them as slaves; they are free to leave their contract at any time and there are never demands such as sex included - I had once thought it not so different, but now, the knowledge of the prisons and torture and worse... the divide is glaring to me.
But even that cannot justify the deaths of so many, most of whom had no part in the slaving operations.
I look at Faith, frowning. The pain and outrage I could understand, but not this. Does she think all of those batarians were so deserving of their fate?
The meld was confusing: there was no rush of emotions like there was when she slit the throat of the one in the torture room, but no regret either.
Just... nothing. Is that a natural reaction? I know nobody who has had to make such a spontaneous decision: mother often made choices, actions and speeches knowing the effects would change the lives of thousands, but never one that would end so many lives, and she always took such time and care over the process, teaching me to do the same, a philosophy I carry in my work every day... to have to decide something so important and final, so suddenly-
But in a way, Faith did not have a choice at all.
The Reapers were there. All of our half-complete preparations would have been for nothing.
Faith... Faith would be dead.
The thought catches my breath in an almost imperceptible sob. I cannot lose her. Return to a cold, empty bed, knowing she will never be there to hold me again. Live a life bare of the happiness she brings with anything from the occasional silly gifts she finds me, or the comfort of a quiet embrace. I could not do this; prepare a galaxy that prefers ignorance to fear, without her. I cannot go back to that life I lived on Illium, devoid of anything other than cold calculus; only in hindsight can I see how poisonous operating in such a lonely environment was.
She did what had to be done. Her feelings about batarians had no part in activating the Alliance's Project. Or did they? Is that why she is so concerned about my reaction?
Could... could I love somebody who is capable of justifying death on such a scale, with a false impression that they are all monsters?
Of denying them even a chance, for a tactical advantage?
Faith stands, drawing me from my reverie.
'I... I'll let you...think...' she ends uncertainly, then turns away towards the door.
I stand quickly, taking her arm. I do not want her to leave... even if she needs to sleep, I do not want her to do so alone. But first, I need to know. 'Do... you truly see them that way?'
She shakes her head, eyes flashing. 'What do you want me to say, Liara? Yes. I do. The last time I was on Omega, one tried to sell me a damned slave. I nearly tore his throat out right there. That drunken bastard I showed you, was on his way to piss on Doctor Kenson. Either for the pleasure of it, or to help break her.'
'And you think batarians are all like that?' I release her arm as she turns fully towards me, an ugly scowl marring her scarred face, a face I know can be beautiful but now showing nothing but a visibly pulsing rage.
'Like them? No. But their society needs people like them to go out and destroy thousands of lives just so they can keep to their disgusting traditions.' She shakes her head again. 'God, I...'
She catches my eye, angry passion burning beneath the surface. 'Look, I know they're not all slavers. But it's... unreal. I try to think of them doing normal things, holding hands, going shopping, whatever... and I can't. I tried to imagine, if I warned them, and if they actually paid attention, them doing anything other than just leaving their slaves to burn, and I couldn't. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I can't change that.'
She walks back into the room, past me, and strips off her bulky, Alliance marked shirt - reminiscent of that worn by the crew of the Normandy SR1 - leaving her arms and shoulders mostly bare in an unmarked black tank top, golden skin criss-crossed with angry red.
She tries...
That one word means everything to me.
Perhaps... she does not want to feel this way. But she does.
She tries, struggles against her history of pain and violence. I almost let out a sigh of relief at the fact, but I do not want her to accept her prejudices as an immovable part of her.
She was correct in her warning to me earlier.
They lessen her. Almost everything else about her isstrong, laudable, great in the truest sense of the word: the strength and determination, the utter selflessness in that she is willing to sacrifice some or all of herself, and never ask for anything in return.
She cannot continue this way. I can see it now, an almost imperceptible self-loathing at her own thoughts and feelings - that she was so ashamed to show me, but at once determined to do so, speaks louder than the words she gave to the air. That she is worried that she feels nothing but anger and emptiness towards those poor souls destroyed by the relay, is sign of her true feelings. That she tries.
My next words are a whisper, as I step towards her. I have no idea how to help her, but I must try. '"Can't" change that, or "won't"'
She frowns. 'What?'
'Are you so frightened of seeing them as the people they are?'
'Frightened?' She takes a step closer to me, but there is no aggression in the movement, and I do not move myself. 'I was frightened when they burned my home to the ground, killed my parents and kidnapped my sisters. I was a scared little girl who could barely make it through the day after that. But I'm not any more. I can do something about it now, and stop them from ruining other peoples' lives.'
'By killing them?' I ask quietly. I truly hope I am not pushing too hard, I truly hope this is the right thing to do...
'Yes!' The pure ferocity of her response startles me, and she turns away, her fists clenched tightly. 'You saw what they were doing to those people on Aratoht. You've seen what my life was like before the attack. I was happy, Liara, and they burned it all, for the demands of their sick society. Just because they're not involved in the raids and torture, doesn't mean they don't benefit from it without a second thought.'
'It is part of their culture, and you slaughtering every batarian you see will never change that!' Her argument is flawed: feelings like this are rarely held in logical consideration, but I see a terrible, personal, fragile flaw, and with a deep breath I say the words I hope will not break her. 'Yes, slavery is disgusting, but those innocent batarians are no more to blame for it than you are for the horrors Jack and the other children went through at Cerberus' hands, for your biotics. Than I am responsible for whatever other horrors Cerberus inflicted, to develop the technology used to rebuild you, because I gave them your body.'
She stops moving, and I see her face whiten from the side, so I move to get a better view of her. Her eyes are wide, and shoulders trembling.
Goddess, I hope I was right to say that!
'That's not fair.' She speaks quietly, all hints of fury evaporated from her voice.
I reach out and gently touch her shoulder, before pulling my arm back. I need to let her decide what to do, what she needs, from here. 'No, it is not. And neither are you being fair to those who lost their lives when the relay was destroyed.'
I look to the cold, impersonal floor for a brief moment, before looking back into Faith's eyes, swimming with a very organic uncertainty.
'Why are you doing this to me, Liara?' she whispers, eyes imploring.
'Because I hate seeing you in pain, Faith, and this anger you harbour causes you more pain than any bullet could.' I take a step closer, grateful that she does not move away. 'You... you have lost so much, more than anybody deserves to lose. But you cannot change it. You are here, now, with a person who loves you, and you can let go of your rage.'
Faith's gaze drops to the floor. 'What if I can't? They... they took it all, Liara! I feel like if I stop hating them, I'll be b-betraying my family, forgetting why I started doing all of this in the f-first place!' The pain in her words... her faltering voice... Goddess, let this end soon...
'Do you truly believe that?' Faith has overcome everything her life has thrown at her... but to cast off her own fears...? She has done it before! She was terrified of opening herself to me, rejecting me at first through a mixture of fear and a desire not to drag me further into what she considers her tainted life, but she eventually grew past that... can she overcome this? 'Do you think they would want you harbouring their pain forever?'
'It's... it's... what...' I see the taut muscles across her shoulders and arms flex, her fists clench with tiny biotic wisps, and I predict her next words, pouring all of my heart into my response.
'It made you strong when you needed strength, but you do not need it any more! You have your own life now, friends, me, your own reasons to fight!'
'I know that!' She looks up at me, and I have to resist embracing her, or anything... 'And... And I can never, ever thank you enough for that! But these... these memories, they don't just disappear!'
'I am not asking that you forget your past, Faith, but that you accept that you want to move past it!' I take a step closer, so our bodies are just a hands' width apart. 'Why will you not see those innocent batarians for what they are?'
'Because then I'd have just killed three hundred thousand people!' The whispered words strike deep into me, harder than any cry could have, and Faith's face instantly contorts into shock.
People.
Not slavers. Not slaves. Not monsters... not even batarians, a word loaded with such volatility, but people.
I had hoped to hear something such as that, but the anguish in that whisper!
How could I have been so foolish, to push her into this, now, when she is so tired? I should have waited until she was rested... Goddess, I am such a fool!
She nearly collapses onto the bed with trembling legs, and I quickly rush across to sit beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and taking her hand with the other.
'Because... because I just killed...'
I pull her in; her hot, heavy, muscular body wracking with silent emotion against my own, her head ducked and resting against my chest, dampness seeping through to my breast. As I hold her tears touch my own eyes, for the pain she so rarely allows herself to feel, for the weight of the deaths on her soul, for the soft knowledge shared between us that she is not an uncaring person.
Oh please, let me have done the right thing...
I tighten my grip, and she lets loose a single, heart wrenching, sob. I plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, hoping, wishing, that I have not pushed her too far...
One of her arms slowly snakes around my lower back, pushing up my shirt in what I know is a need for contact, and her hand is warm against my hip, the touch soft as always, despite her calloused hands.
Eventually her body ceases its silent, heaving sobs and we simply stay, embracing, as time melts away.
A/N: Special thanks to Vector 71 for the immeasurable assistance with this chapter, it would not be the same without her.
If any of my readers are in the mood for something a little different, her short story "Mating Season" is an absolutely incredible piece set when the Leviathan ruled the galaxy, of a romance that echoes through the ages. You can find it here: /s/9008389/1/
