Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Answer lies between Conversation and Cocktails

SSV Tai Shan, Sol System Approach

There were few things that Fleet Admiral Kessler enjoyed as much as a quiet moment with a steaming hot cup of coffee - observing large battleships was one, but quiet moments were much rarer. He was currently enjoying both, slurping the hot liquid with little regard for the way it scalded his throat. From the observation window of his quarters he could see SSV Rainier and SSV Eiger in close formation. He felt his chest swell slightly with pride. Eiger was one of the SA Navy's newest vessels – lead in her class. Her keel had been laid down just weeks after the victory against the Reapers. No expense had been spared in equipping her with the most advanced technology available - taking advantage of mistakes learned during the Reaper War and the expertise of Cerberus defectors.

His lip curled into a sneer as he remembered the arguments against her construction. They had been weak at best, predictable. Arguing against the expenditure, bleating about Earth's limited resources being squandered on building machinery for war whilst people were starving and homeless. Kessler had very little time for such pathetic reticence. He wasn't about to stand around handing out rations while the rest of the Galaxy sniffed at the SA's borders and colonies. The war had gifted humanity with a prime opportunity, and he was about to let a bunch of bleeding heart politicians squander it.

Kessler had time to take one more sip of coffee before the silence was rudely interrupted by the irritating buzz of the intercom. He turned away from the window and tapped his private terminal. The face of his Yeoman filled the screen. She was efficient and pleasant enough to look at, even if her cheerful demeanour wasn't suited to that of a proper marine.

"Good morning, Shaw," he said crisply.

"Good morning, sir. There are several messages for your attention, although I have flagged none as urgent. You have a message from your wife, as well as another from Senator Hale. At my last count, that makes...thirteen messages in total from the Senator."

The next sip of coffee went down Kessler's throat like a lump of dirt. He hated politicians with an unrivalled intensity. Senator Hale had been making loud noises about democratic elections for several months. At first Kessler had been content to let him make a small amount of fuss. It was easy enough to ignore him and it was harmless so long as his words were falling on deaf ears. However lately it was becoming apparent that he had a following. Still small, but it was a following nevertheless.

"Shall I block him, sir?" Shaw suggested. "Or perhaps draft a personal rebuttal for your signature?"

Kessler set his coffee cup down. His knuckles drummed out a staccato beat on the edge of the table. A mere rebuttal would be as bad as fanning the flames of a fire. The beat continued as his mind worked. Hale was a deluded fool if he thought a civilian government capable of driving the same level of regeneration, or ambition. Humanity would descend into anarchy within months, and complete subjugation within years. He stopped drumming and dragged his fingernails against the unyielding surface. That wasn't going to happen. Not on his watch.

"No, Shaw. Leave it with me. I'll have someone else take care of Mr Hale." Shaw merely smiled and nodded in response. "No word at all from Blackheath?"

"None, sir. If you want I can-"

"No," Kessler cut her short. He pursed his lips. "I'll put a call through myself. Dismiss-"

"And your wife, sir?" Shaw interrupted.

Kessler let out a long-suffering sigh. "Send something from my personal account. Tell her I'm well and...make something else up, the sort of bullshit a woman wants to hear."

If Shaw was offended by Kessler's order, her expression betrayed nothing. She merely nodded. "Understood."

As soon as her image disappeared, Kessler initiated another communication. Given the distance involved, the connection was not instant. He resumed drumming his fingers. Even when it opened, he thought the vidlink was down as he could see nothing but darkness on the other end. The darkness was punctuated by a female voice uttering a series of harsh expletives. Eventually a soft blue glow illuminated the scene, revealing the extremely irritated face of Captain Cristiane Alves. Her hair was still tousled by sleep and she'd dragged a bed sheet up to cover her torso.

"Kessler? You do realise it's fuck o'clock down here?"

Kessler ground his teeth. Alves rarely put any stock in proper protocol. It was one of the most infuriating things about the woman. Something else moved in the background. Another form shifting on the bed. He caught a glimpse of long pale hair and the curve of a full breast. Revulsion was his instinctive response. Too many dykes in this Navy. Alves was a damn good marine, but her personal life was questionable at best, disloyal at worst.

"Am I keeping you from your sleep, Captain. Or something else?"

"Fuck you," Alves muttered, rising to her feet and taking the bed sheet with her.

The image on the screen suddenly changed, shifting away from the view of Alves' shrouded form and her sleeping lover to that of a pristine office. Several minutes passed before Alves reappeared, this time decently clothed in Alliance issue sweats with her hair bound away from her face. The damn woman had even kept him waiting to make herself a cup of coffee.

"Your report is six days overdue," Kessler said in a terse voice.

Alves appeared unconcerned, even going as far as to shrug in response. "My report is exactly the same as it was six days ago. Four subjects, three of whom have been stable for the past two months and...twenty-seven days."

"And the fourth?" Kessler pressed.

"He had to be restrained. He was trying to claw his own eyes out." Alves was nothing but matter-of-fact. "I think the Doctor will make a decision about putting him out of his misery today. Now that would have been something to report. As it is, I'm stuck here, training the damn monkeys and putting up with unnecessary shit from a civilian."

"Put up with it, Captain. The Doctor is one of our most valuable assets." Kessler was unmoved by Alves' complaint. "Even more so than you."

"She's a spoiled princess!" Alves replied venomously.

"You need to put aside your animosity," Kessler said pointedly. "In other matters, I have received several viable leads as to Shepard's whereabouts." Alves' interest was clearly piqued as she sat up a little straighter. "Of course there is still the persistent rumour that she is on Thessia-"

"Fucking squids," Alves muttered. "What use is that? Short of painting myself blue, we can't get near the asari homeworld."

"New intel indicates Ilium as a possibility. We have received several reliable sightings. I've green lit an investigation," Kessler continued. "However, even more recently, rumours have surfaced that she may be on Omega."

Alves' eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Omega? You think Aria T'Loak would harbour Shepard?"

"T'Loak is unpredictable and there have been run-ins with Shepard in the past," Kessler explained. He wanted nothing to do with the so-called 'Queen of Omega.' However, the fact that she was sitting on the Galaxy's largest known deposits of eezo was a major problem. He cursed Cerberus for not putting her down while they had the chance. "We're sending infiltration units in the first instance. Our reach in the Terminus is almost non-existent and tied up in protecting our colonies."

Alves suddenly drove her fist down onto the table. Kessler couldn't see it collide, but he heard the resulting thud.

"What kind of game do you think we're playing here, Kessler? If you'd followed my original advice, we'd already have Shepard back in our grasp - or better yet, dead - instead of fuck knows where. I'd wager credits for Thessia - the bitch is probably surrounded by naked squids, laughing at us."

"Your advice was dismissed, Captain," Kessler replied in a tight voice.

"By a bunch of ignorant fossils! You and I both know that adhering to outdated military tenets is a waste of time. We have within our grasp some of her closest known associates - Williams, that crippled pilot, hell, she might even give a damn about Miranda Lawson and that psychotic ex-convict we've dumped on Mindoir. Start carving them up bit by bit and the sentimental bitch will come running-"

Kessler cut her tirade short with a sharp gesture. "We're the SA, Captain. We're not Cerberus and we're sure as hell not the fucking Batarians. We're above that. Do I have to remind you how much we need Shepard's allies on side? How do you think the public would react if we executed Ashley Williams?"

Alves was unfazed. "I don't think Williams is going to toe the company line, regardless of how many promotions or medals you throw at her. Do you even know where the hell she currently is?"

"The Normandy was scheduled to take part in a flypast-" Kessler began, he stopped himself. "I don't know why I'm even arguing with a subordinate. We're going to make every attempt to solve the Shepard problem quietly. That's my final decision. I've already got plans for dealing with the recalcitrant Captain Williams."

"And if that doesn't work?" Alves pressed.

Kessler sighed. It was regrettable. Williams was a good combat marine but she would never be the sort of career officer the SA needed. "I'll have no choice but to admit her into the Blackheath programme."

The resulting grin on Alves' face was predatory.


Omega, Sahrabarik

An instinctive smile tugged at Liara's lips as the image on the vid screen sharpened. The familiar face of an old friend. No, more than that - family. Ashley Williams tried to return the gesture.

Although the marine captain's smile was sincere, it failed to hide the evidence of exhaustion on her face - dark circles around her eyes and an unhealthy pallor to her cheeks.

There was also a feverish intensity that Liara would never have expected to find on Ashley's face. If she had to guess, she would have said that something was driving Ash towards breaking point.

"You're a difficult individual to contact, Liara," Ashley said. "Anyone would think you didn't want to be found."

"Ashley."

In saying her name, Liara realised that the strings tugging at her emotions were caused by guilt. In all the months spent feeding Ashley intel and observing her through vid feeds like some sort of voyeur, Liara had never bothered to speak to her. The last time they had spoken had been the day of Shepard's memorial service. She had no real excuse for the silence. Secrecy was one. Her work kept her busy, but her schedule was largely self-determined. The real reason was that she had never been suited to the role of friend - a loner, lost in her own work for years at a time. It was still difficult for her to appreciate the relationships in her life.

Ashley was family. She deserved...more.

The appropriate apology would not emerge from Liara's lips, it was left to Ashley to continue, "It is good to see you."

Liara inclined her head politely, an apology of sorts coming via another small smile. Brief, insufficient. "I will ensure that you have a more direct means of contacting me in the future, although a dating site was inspired. Your ad was suitably intriguing for one of my agents to forward it to my attention."

"I'm actually kind of glad I can't take any of the credit," Ashley replied. "Traynor wrote that ad. I tried to make her post an actual one for herself. I think if I wasn't her CO, she might have decked me." She then bit her lip. "Do you think that was taking it too far? I mean, I'm her friend, but there's giving someone a little bit of stick and then there's harassment."

Liara found her guilt banished by the prospect of an actual carefree conversation. It felt normal. The sort of thing that was discussed over drinks. For a moment, she could forget who she was and what they were supposed to be doing. "You merely made a polite suggestion."

"I may have taken it past polite suggestion," Ashley admitted reluctantly. "There was definitely harassment." She let out soft groan. "I'm going to need to do the whole apology thing, aren't I?"

"Undoubtedly," Liara replied without pause for thought. For some unknown reason she was struck by the sudden urge to find a drink, take a seat and prop her feet up on the console whilst continuing the conversation. It was altogether ridiculous. Something she would never do, regardless of the weight of the Broker mantle hanging around her shoulders. However, it felt liberating to be a little foolish. "There was a time when Samantha was interested in Shepard and, although she would probably have denied it, Shepard was definitely paying attention."

Ashley's eyes goggled momentarily. "How did I not know about this?"

"You were unconscious in Huerta Memorial."

"I missed a hell of a lot of fun lying in that damn hospital," Ashley muttered.

Liara remembered that point in time as anything other than 'fun.' The pain of simply being around Shepard again had been exquisite torture. "We could have used you on Menae," she said. "You might have been able to stop Shepard before she leapt on the back of a charging Brute."

"Garrus told me about that," Ashley nodded, obviously smiling at the mental image. "The Skipper was never any good at realising something was a bad idea - especially in combat. It was obviously a thing though. She once tried to ride a geth Colussus." She continued quickly when she saw Liara raise her eyebrows in consternation. "It was on Antibaar, not long after Therum. Chakwas hadn't cleared you for duty. There was no one to rein in her behaviour. I was still a little scared of her and Garrus thought everything she did was awesome."

"I remember," Liara said softly. The passage of time had been relatively brief for an asari. She still remembered her first weeks aboard the Normandy SR-1. She was confused and fearful, and not just as a result of being trapped in the Prothean force field for days. Her entire world had been thrown into turmoil. Being hunted by mercenaries. Her mother working with Saren. The blue-eyed human Commander who both terrified and intrigued her in ways she didn't understand.

With the onset of nostalgia, any trace of amusement had vanished from Ashley's face, replaced by an expression of sympathy that Liara knew she did not deserve. "How are you, Liara? Honestly."

No matter how hard Liara tried, a suitably bereaved expression would not materialise on her face. Her subconscious wouldn't let her lie. Instead she fixed in place a blank mask. "I am fine, Ashley. Thank you for your concern."

It didn't work. "Don't bullshit me, T'Soni. Or have you forgotten who you physically attacked after Alchera?" Ashley let out a visibly trembling breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask you like that. I wasn't even going to bring her up. But it seems wrong not to."

"You miss her." Liara deftly shifted the focus back to Ashley.

The marine smiled grimly. "Every damn day. I'm continually reminded how much we need her. How much I need her. I was never cut out to be the one up front, making all the stupid decisions."

"She was very good at making stupid decisions," Liara commented. She still is.

"I suppose I should stop wasting your time," Ashley said, as though suddenly remembering why she had tried to contact Liara in the first place. "I may have made a stupid decision of my own. I need your help to make it a little less stupid. Less stupid, more brilliant."

Liara could have smiled at the earnest expression on the woman's face. She could have spent the next ten minutes convincing Ashley that she was brilliant in her own right, but Liara could already see a plethora of red lights flashing at her. Each one no doubt required her urgent attention. Suppressing the urge to turn everything over to Hannah Shepard to deal with, she focused on assuming the role of the Shadow Broker as opposed to a friend.

"What can I do for the Alliance?"

"Not the Alliance, the Council," Ashley corrected. "I'm acting in my capacity as SpecTRe."

"You accepted a SpecTRe commission? Now?" Liara was surprised.

Ashley sighed. "I wanted to piss the brass off so badly I didn't think things through. They wanted me to take part in a flypast, Liara. A flypast! Like a trained monkey. In hindsight the flypast would have been less likely to end in colossal failure, but that's what I'm hoping to avoid with your help." Ashley lowered her gaze for just a moment. "It's a Reaper...and it's active. I'm uploading the footage-"

"That is unnecessary," Liara interrupted swiftly.

Ashley glanced upward. Her surprise lasted barely a split second. "Of course you already know about the damn Reaper. Why would I even bother trying to tell you anything?"

"I would apologise," Liara said, a little unkindly. "But I was the one who passed the information to the Council."

A frown creased Ashley's brow. "I thought Xeron was the Council's contact?"

"So did the Council. Unfortunately, our friend Xeron sold the Council out to the Broker years ago, before I took over. I merely steered him back onto a nobler path."

"You could have come straight to me with the intel." Ashley was clearly irritated by what she perceived as a lack of faith.

The truth would anger the marine further, but Liara couldn't stomach another lie. "Honestly? I did not want it to be you. The likelihood was high that the Council would not seek you out, or that your duty to the Alliance would compel you to say no."

Ashley had never been good at hiding her emotions. Her features stiffened as she tried to restrain her temper. "Why?" The single word was curt, tight.

"Humanity needs you, Ashley. With Shepard...gone, they need you. Commandos, STG, for lack of a better word, they are expendable-"

"Expendable is the perfect word," Ashley interrupted. "It's exactly what you mean."

"Fine. I will say it clearly. They are expendable. You are not."

"What if I don't share your opinion?" Her anger was almost tangible, even through the vidlink. "I'm a grunt. Even though they've given me a title, a couple of promotions and command of the Normandy, I'm still just a grunt, and this is exactly the kind of work I was meant for. I may not have a ship full of galactic badasses, but I've got good people. Kurin may be an arrogant bitch, but she's a damn good commando. We can do this, Liara. I can do this."

Liara knew there would be no further debate. When it came to obstinacy, Ashley had Shepard beat. Although her instincts were screaming at her to find some way to spoil the outcome, Liara knew it was unavoidable. "I warned the Council that this would need to be kept as covert as possible. If word escapes, even amongst the military, the resulting panic would be catastrophic."

"We're on the same page," Ashley replied quickly. "I've got a plan, but I'm going to need your help to pull it off. Can I count on you Shadow Broker?" At Liara's decisive nod, Ashley continued. "I'm uploading a list of what I need. Tell me now if you don't think it's possible."

It took only a split second and Liara had the requirements in front of her. Against her better judgement and her underlying fears, she found herself smiling. "There is nothing particularly challenging, the question is whether you think you can pull this off?"

Ashley bristled playfully. "I happen to be damn good at subterfuge, T'Soni!" For some reason her cheeks took on a slight red hue.

"This will not require subterfuge so much as - to quote a mutual friend - one hell of a quad."

"You know, I could use Wrex on this one," Ashley murmured thoughtfully.

"Ash..." Liara's voice trailed off for a moment. She fumbled for some way of convincing Ashley just how dangerous a mission it would be. Unfortunately, she could only think of comparisons with Shepard.

"I suppose this is the part where you reassure me by saying Shepard could have pulled it off in her sleep." Ashley beat her to it. "Hell, she turned up to a cocktail party full of the Galaxy's biggest crooks wearing nothing but a little black dress."

"Donovan Hock was a slimy fool with a small army of mercs and a military-grade Gunship. This is a Reaper, Ashley."

The marine actually had the gall to shrug as though they were exactly the same thing. "How long do you think it will take you to pull together what I need?"

"The actual items? A few days. Your other requirements – well, those cannot be rushed. A week, non-negotiable. I will not let you do this without the best possible preparation." Liara was adamant. "Another thing, you cannot use Xeron." She cut short the inevitable protest with a curt wave of her hand. "At the first scent of an opportunity he would sell you out without qualm. You need to surround yourself with those you trust implicitly. I have operatives who are suitable, but the perfect candidate is already onboard the Normandy – Samantha Traynor."

"There's no way I'm taking Traynor anywhere near that damn Reaper!" Ashley replied vehemently.

"Nevertheless, she is the clear choice," Liara was unmoved by the protest. "Although I would suggest making that apology first – a sincere apology."

"Don't lecture me on how to apologise to my crewmembers, T'Soni." Ashley let out a long, irritated breath. "Shit. I need her don't I?"

"Samantha is eminently capable," Liara agreed. " Despite it being her suggestion, she didn't like the thought any more than Ashley did. She was determined that the plucky tech specialist take her place on the mission over a double-crossing ex-STG agent. "And she will have you."

Ashley snorted derisively but she didn't make an accompanying comment. Although her subsequent smile was clearly forced, her words made it sincere. "I don't know how to thank you for this, Liara."

"Just promise that you will try not to emulate Shepard in every aspect."

"No riding Brutes and no cocktail dresses – check."

Liara found herself actually laughing. It was a dry sound rattling in her throat, but a laugh nevertheless. "I will be in touch. Take care of yourself, Ashley."

"You too, blue. It means a lot that you're on our side. Don't be such a stranger in the future."

"I promise." Liara nodded.

When the connection to Ashley winked out, Liara did not return to her work. She stood with her fingers poised above the haptic display. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long...a couple of minutes."

Shepard made almost no sound as she left her position leaning against the door frame and stepped into the room. For a moment she stared at the now blank screen as though willing her friend to reappear. Only when the blankness was replaced with a lazily circling system map, did Shepard finally look away.

"She looked tired." Fatigue was a marine's constant companion, but Shepard couldn't dismiss it so easily. A knot of guilt sat restlessly in her gut. It ruined the quip she had been about to make about crashing Hock's party in a cocktail dress. The air suddenly felt very thick and the room even smaller.

"Liara-"

The tone in her voice gave away what she was about to say. "It is not an option," Liara cut in. Her own voice was savage in her desperation.

"Give me one good reason I can't go." A fight with Liara was the last thing Shepard wanted but she wasn't about to simply give up. " Instead she braced herself as Liara spun to confront her. It did not help one bit that Liara was achingly attractive when she was angry. Not now, Ev!

"One reason? I can give you several – any one of which would be enough to keep you out of that mission. Since you seem to have forgotten, let me remind about the woman I rescued four months ago-"

"Liara-"

"She was a husk! Little more than skin and bone." Liara spoke nothing but the truth, but it was still raw. As time passed, both of them had stubbornly tried to forget everything that had happened in the months while they were apart. "I am not surprised that your judgement is clouded by a perception of your own invincibility, Evan, but even you cannot come back from that so quickly." Her tone softened somewhat, but none of the intensity was missing. "One of the few things keeping you safe right now is the fact that you are supposed to be dead. If you go charging off to the Terminus Systems at the helm of the Normandy, that anonymity will disappear."

"It's not your decision." The simple words hurt to say, almost as much as it hurt to watch Liara's expression change into one of utter helplessness.

However, short of physically restraining her on Omega, Liara had nothing but words. "Ashley needs to do this on her own."

"And if she gets herself killed? The crew...my crew?" Shepard demanded.

"They are no longer your crew. And you will have to live with your decision," Liara replied, apparently unmoved by Shepard's protests.

Shepard shook her head stubbornly. "I couldn't live with that."

Liara sighed. "Have faith in Ashley. She has learned from some of the best. Nor did the Council send Captain Kurin and her commandos on a whim. They are an elite unit."

"So I just sit on my arse and wait?" Shepard asked sadly.

Liara shrugged. "If that is all you care to do. Or if you want to stop acting like a petulant child and contribute, you can help me to ensure that Ashley's mission is a success."

"Let's pretend I'm going to ignore your comment and play along." Shepard folded her arms across her chest. "You want me to help from a console?" Her dismissive snort was ruined when Liara shook her head disapprovingly. "You're about to tell me that you have more power behind that damn console than a whole flotilla of marines. Stow it, T'Soni, just tell me what we need to do before I change my damn mind."


Although the passage of time registered via her gnawing hunger and aching feet, Shepard found herself enjoying the challenges of Liara's work. Not the same as feeling the satisfying kick of an assault rifle against her shoulder, or the hum of an omni-blade, but oddly satisfying. Whether it would be enough, Shepard still couldn't say. The unease in her gut wouldn't dissipate completely. No amount of logistical brilliance would ever replace the actual thrill or combat, or her need to stand shoulder to shoulder with fellow marines.

As she worked, she stole a few quick glances across at her bondmate. Not to marvel at the speed at which she worked – as impressive as it was – but to observe the tension gradually leave her body. Shepard knew some element of fear would linger for days. She knew this because a part of her still hadn't decided not to go. An incoming comms light blinked, distracting her from disquieting thoughts. She waited for Liara to answer, as she usually did. Instead Liara merely glanced at it once and resumed working.

"Can you get that?" Liara eventually asked.

It sounded suspiciously like an order as opposed to a request. "I'm not the Shadow Broker. What the hell am I supposed to say?" Shepard protested.

"It is not an agent. It is your mother," Liara replied simply.

Shepard baulked. "All the more reason for me not to answer!"

Her protests fell on dead ears as Liara ignored her obvious discomfort. Eventually Shepard gave in, opening the link with a purposeful stab of her thumb.

Hannah Shepard's face filled most of the small screen but her attention was diverted elsewhere. "The logs are showing you've been working for almost eight hours, Liara. I know that's a blink of an eye to you, but I'm up to speed on Operation Screwdriver. I've got this for a few hours at least. Get some rest."

As Hannah spoke, Shepard was still trying to ascertain if the woman on the other side of the link was actually her mother. Hannah wore a faded Alliance sweatshirt. Her hair was tied back, away from her surprisingly relaxed face. She appeared younger and far happier than Shepard ever remembered seeing her.

"It's not Liara, Hannah," Shepard said, causing her mother to finally focus on the feed with a sudden jerk of her head.

"Evie?"

Shepard had difficulty understanding her reaction to seeing Hannah. For lack of a better word, it was odd. Her response ought to have been an expletive laden protest against being called 'Evie', but instead the diminutive hardly bothered her.

"Liara's right here though," Shepard continued. And she can bloody well take over the damn conversation, starting now. There was no response. No rescue. Awkward fidgeting ensued in the following silence.

"You're probably the best person to speak to actually." Hannah broke the silence. "Does Liara listen to you?"

"Not often," Shepard replied with a wry glance across at her bondmate. "But I can probably get her to call it quits for the day. In fact, she's yawning right now."

Finally, something caught Liara's attention – probably because it was a blatant lie. There had been no signs of fatigue and certainly no yawns. The resulting glare caused Shepard to grin.

"Everything will be in good hands. The equipment will be en route to the Normandy within the hour. Although one thing before you sign off, why Operation Screwdriver?" Hannah paused and frowned. "Or is the answer something that's going to make me wish I hadn't asked?"

The apprehensive expression on her mother's face led Shepard to laugh out loud. "No, nothing like that. Liara thinks it's my favourite cocktail. It's a long story."

"I'd like to hear it some time."

Hannah's expression of interest sounded so sincere that Shepard almost believed her. However stubborn memories resurfaced – memories from a childhood where Hannah had no time for her stories. "It's pretty dull. Me in a black dress, surrounded by some of the worst scum in the Galaxy and armed with nothing but a Phalanx strapped to the inside of my thigh – a regular night out on the town really."

While Hannah laughed in response, Shepard felt a light touch on her arm. Much to her astonishment, she found that Liara had actually moved away from the console without further cajoling.

"I will prepare some food while you speak to you mother," she suggested quietly.

Shepard's eyes widened in horror. "I don't want to speak to her!" she hissed under her breath. Unfortunately for Shepard, this moment did not fall into one of the 'not often' times when Liara listened to her. Instead her bondmate slipped towards the door. "Hey! Don't you need to talk to her?"

Liara glanced over her shoulder. "Hannah and I converse daily."

"About what?" Her demands fell on Liara's departing back.

"Don't worry, Evie, it's strictly Broker business. No embarrassing childhood stories," Hannah answered on Liara's behalf. "Liara occasionally shares information about you, but I don't press for more. I know how you'd feel about that."

"You're about thirty odd years too late to be taking an interest in my life, Admiral Shepard." The cutting remark was undeserved, at least in the present. Shepard however was irritated. Hannah had called her Evie twice. Both had passed without rebuke. Plus the conversation was still going. Despite her reluctance, despite her lingering resentment, she was still having an actual conversation with her mother.

"You're looking well." Hannah tactfully ignored her daughter's comment.

"So are you." The reply sounded somewhat surly, but it was a pleasantry of sorts. And I actually kind of mean it.

"Despite the circumstances that led me to be here, I love this part of Earth. I didn't think that it was possible to find this sort of peace," Hannah said by way of explanation. Her eyes shone with a sort of excitement. "And other developments have happened as well. Mack and I-"

"Spare me the details, Hannah." Shepard couldn't interrupt quickly enough. "I really don't want to hear about your nocturnal activities. It's...good that you're happy though. He seemed like a nice enough guy." In all truth, Shepard could remember very little about Pericles Macklin other than his wiry grey hair and strange accent.

Hannah nodded in agreement. "He is an extremely nice guy. I think the two of you have a lot in common. Maybe, when all of this is over, the three of us can spend some time together?"

"What, and play happy fucking families?" Again, the harsh words slipped out instinctively. Shepard was torn between regret and pleasure at watching the crestfallen expression develop on Hannah's face. She dug the knife in a little deeper. "We were never a family. I was only ever an inconvenience or a disappointment."

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way," Hannah offered in a small voice.

I'm a horrible person, Shepard thought wretchedly. Provoking her mother had lost its appeal. Although she still meant every word, she questioned her need to continually bring it up. In fact, she was tired of the past coming between them. "I'm sorry too. This family thing...I'd like to try." Being civil was difficult, even painful, but Shepard felt a sense of relief at seeing the smile on Hannah's face.

"I'd like that," Hannah replied.

Thirty-four years and she waits until I'm a hunted fugitive to act like a mother. Shepard didn't give voice to the thought. "It looks like you've succeeded in getting Liara away from work," Shepard added quickly. There was only so much playing nice she could handle for one conversation. She was on a roll, and didn't want to bring it all crashing down with another outburst. "I guess I'll speak to you again soon."

"Is that a promise?" her mother asked hopefully.

"Yes, Hannah..." Shepard paused. "It's a promise...Mum."

Downstairs, Liara was waiting for Shepard with a small array of piping hot dishes she'd heated. Without even bothering to sit down, Shepard picked up the nearest and began wolfing down the unidentifiable contents.

"Fanks," she said, struggling to get the single word out while her jaws worked feverishly.

"You are quite welcome." Liara was eating her own meal in a more delicate manner. "Although I did not think you liked tofu casserole?"

"Hate it," Shepard replied. Almost as soon as the words left her lips, she started laughing. Liara stopped eating and stared at her as though she was going slightly crazy. It's entirely possible. "My Mum called me Evie...twice," she attempted to explain but Liara only frowned even further. "I think I might have just enjoyed a conversation with her."

"You love her." Liara supplied the words Shepard had been missing all along.

It took Shepard some time to agree. "Yeah," she said the word deliberately. "I guess I do. Maybe one day I'll actually tell her."


Some hours later, fed, showered and largely content, Shepard and Liara tumbled into bed together. What started as an innocent goodnight ritual of whispers in the dark, playful kisses and instinctive touches soon became something else. Each kiss lingered and the touches became more intimate. By the time Liara whispered 'fuck me, Evan' into Shepard's ear, the conclusion was inevitable. The scant clothes they wore were dragged aside with renewed urgency.

It reminded Shepard of their time aboard the SR-1, when their fucking had always been hurried for some reason or another. A desperate moment stolen between crises or the last hour at the end of a twenty-eight hour shift.

There was no real reason for the haste, only the need to rediscover that same passion. Shepard felt the familiarity of both melding with Liara, and the warmth of her fingers filling her with a warmth she had sorely missed. When she drove her own fingers deep inside her bondmate, Shepard felt an agonizing ripple of pleasure pass concurrently through her own body. Their combined auras - blue for Liara, the red of the Catalyst residing within Shepard - danced around their writhing bodies.

Later, lingering in the aftermath of her orgasm and the quiet space offered by the meld, Shepard realised that she was almost ridiculously happy. She felt the same flurry of emotions from Liara, but also an underlying playfulness.

Unexpected. It was Liara's thought first, but Shepard had to agree. Neither had wanted to rush the challenges of reconnecting physically. In fact, the handful of times they'd had sex since Shepard's rescue had all felt premeditated. Natural, the thought felt as though it originated from both of them at the same time. It was nice - Liara. Nice? It was fucking fantastic - Shepard. Shared mirth followed before agreement from Liara. How long can we stay in bed? - Shepard. Not long enough, Liara replied.

The rhythm of their combined heartbeats drove them both towards sleep. When the meld slipped away, Shepard expressed her disappointment via a small sigh. However, it gave her the opportunity to lean close to Liara's ear and whisper 'I love you,' aloud.

BREAK

The incessant repetition of the buzzer almost completely ruined any joy that Shepard felt at waking up wrapped in Liara's arms. Almost. Liara shifted slightly, her irritation reflected only in a muffled protest at being woken. With the re-positioning of her bondmate's body, Shepard eagerly burrowed into a newly uncovered section of Liara's skin that was so incredibly warm it made her forget about the buzzing. Until it happened again. And again. She tried to block it out by trailing kisses along Liara's shoulder, until she reached the sensitive flesh at the nape of her neck. As Liara wriggled with pleasure, the buzzer sounded yet again.

"Are you going to answer that?" Liara murmured sleepily.

"Of course not," was Shepard's abrupt reply. She tried to refocus on what she was doing, concentrating on the act of eliciting more of those delightful sounds from Liara's throat. A few centimetres to the right and Liara let out a soft, lingering moan. Shepard's lips curled into a pleased grin. Their unwanted visitor then proceeded to jab the buzzer in a rapid, nonsensical code. She drew back from the naked flesh on display beneath her and scowled in the general direction of the door, as though somehow her displeasure could be transmitted across the distance.

"It's probably Mycea," Liara rolled over onto her back beneath Shepard.

"Which means it's really not urgent," Shepard insisted, quite content to drink in the sight of Liara's naked body beneath her. Her body responded predictably, as it should - a fierce heat in her belly and an ache between her legs. The brief time they'd spent fucking the previous evening had not gone near enough to making for lost time. The interruption was delaying her plans for a morning of languid sex. As long as she held Liara captive away from her work, she wanted to make the most of everything on offer. "Give it another minute. She'll get bored and go away."

A minute later, an extremely grumpy Shepard stomped down the stairs to answer the front door. She'd reluctantly donned a t-shirt and sweatpants, but left Liara with strict instructions to remain naked in their bed. She moved quickly, knowing that if a lengthy amount of time passed, she'd return to find Liara with a datapad in her hand. Or even worse, dressed and back at her console. After checking the security vid and seeing Myke's impatient expression, Shepard ripped open the door with every intention of giving the young asari a lecture on the protocols of visiting a friend.

"Woah." When the door opened, Myke was completely unperturbed by the glacially dangerous expression on Shepard's face. Instead she let out a low whistle. "You look like you've just crawled out of bed, Evan."

Shepard fought back the urge to smack the grin from her friend's face. "That's because I have just crawled out of bed, Kasos," she said carefully through gritted teeth. "Out of my nice warm bed, with my bondmate., where I was, in all probably, about to have sex."

"Oh," Myke mouthed the sound slowly. The purple skin of her cheeks darkened noticeably. "Because that's what two people do when they're alone. Sex. Gotcha."

"Fucking fantastic. Now that we've got that straightened out, I'm going to go back to bed. I might think about calling you later."

"Hey!" Myke bristled noticeably. "I don't just sit at home and wait for you to invite me over you know. I got stuff of my own to do."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "What stuff?"

"Stuff that's none of your business." Myke actually pouted and, as annoyed as she was, Shepard had to resist the urge to smile. "Besides, if you must blame someone for ruining your mojo, blame her. I don't want me to be here anymore than you do."

The young asari stepped aside and for the first time Shepard realised that there was someone else standing there. Instinct berated her for having no weapon to hand. When the tall, lithe figure stepped forward, her entire body tensed. The reaction lasted as long as it took the newcomer to gracefully peel back her hood.

"Said she knows you," Myke was explaining in a bored voice. She was staring at her feet, scuffing the toe of one boot as though she expected to be in trouble. She didn't see Shepard's eyes widen in surprise. "Guess I owe you apology if she's a nut job, but she was kind of convincing...and a little scary."

"Samara." Shepard let out a low breath.

Of all her friends and ex-crewmembers, the justicar was one of the last that she would have expected to show up on Omega. Yet, as someone who wandered the Galaxy, Samara was also the most obvious. Conscious of the fact that the three of them were standing in an open doorway, Shepard ushered Myke and Samara inside. Only when the door was securely shut behind them did she move to embrace Samara in a fierce hug. Unused to such a greeting, Samara stood patient and unmoving for several moments.

Before the gesture became too awkward, Shepard stepped back and held her friend at arm's length. "Sorry, I'm just happy to see you. A friendly face is pretty rare these days."

"I had not thought my face overly friendly, Shepard," Samara intoned without a trace of amusement. "But I am pleased that my presence brings you comfort."

Myke scowled as she listened. "Is she serious? Her face is about as friendly as a Krogan standing in the middle of a bunch of Salarians. Are you sure you two actually know each other?"

"Yeah, we do. Although Samara was not expected." Shepard faced Myke. "How the hell did you find her? Did you recognise her from my crew?"

"Nope. I only remembered the hot one with a nice rack and the guy with a stick up his ass," Myke replied, folding her arms across her chest. "Didn't know her until she accosted me while I was trying to eat my lunch."

"I followed a rumour to Omega," Samara explained. "Only the barest of whispers...and a sense within myself, that you were alive. In all honesty I expected to find nothing but an echo. Then I recognised your garment and I thought perhaps this individual had stolen it."

"Why does everyone think I'm a thief?" Myke snapped. Without regard for the fact that the other asari was a full head taller than her, Myke moved forward with furious intent. Toe to toe, she faced down Samara. Going further, she jabbed her finger squarely in the middle of Samara's chest. "Listen up, pyjak-breath, I'm no thief. Evan gave me this because she's shit at doing her own washing and it shrunk. Got it?"

Shepard winced. This is either going to be really funny, or it's going to get really messy. "Samara, I'd like you to meet my friend Mycea Kasos. Please be patient, don't truss her up in a singularity without giving her a chance. She means well."

"I had three daughters, Shepard. I assure you I have an ample supply of patience. You must forgive me, Mycea Kasos, I have assumed incorrectly. If Shepard vouches for you, then you shall come to no harm from me."

"You shall come to no harm from me," Myke attempted her own mocking version of Samara's voice. "Has anyone ever told you that you are really, really weird? Do you always talk like that?"

Samara regarded the younger asari with an expressionless gaze. "The code does not dictate a manner in which I should speak. However your words convey much about you. How much...and how little you know. Each word should be chosen with great care. It is necessary that I remain aloof from trivial communications."

"You talk like a justicar in one of those crap Blasto films!" Myke snorted.

Over the subsequent seconds, Shepard watched as Myke's expression transformed gradually from the bored scowl she'd worn through much of the conversation, to questioning, realisation, and finally to an open-mouthed dread. When she sought out confirmation from Shepard, a tiny nod was enough to draw a whimper of fear from her throat.

"Why do I always piss off the wrong sort of asari?" Myke whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she took a step backwards. "Getting shot was fantastic, but I really don't want to die. At least not until I've had sex."

"I should hope that your aspirations extend further afield than experiencing physical relations," Samara observed, disapproval clearly evident in her voice.

"No," Myke squeaked. "They really don't."

"I have no intention of ending your life," Samara continued. Myke breathed out a noticeable sigh of relief. However, it caught in her throat when she realised the justicar wasn't finished. "Unless you give me cause."

Shepard quickly moved to place a reassuring hand on Myke's shoulder. She could feel her friend trembling beneath the touch. "That's Samara's version of a joke, Myke. Why don't we take a seat? I might even make tea."

As Myke gratefully chose a seat at the opposite end of the soda, Shepard knew full well it hadn't been any sort of attempt at humour. She hoped that the cautionary glance she threw over her shoulder had some effect on Samara. While Myke's long list of petty offences wouldn't usually attract a justicar's attention, Shepard didn't want to terrify her even further. Plus, she was quite fond of the little vagabond.

Shepard had thought to wake Liara, but her bondmate was already several steps ahead of her. Liara made a poised sight as she descended the stairs, thankfully fully dressed.

"Justicar, this is an unexpected pleasure."

The caution in Liara's voice indicated that it was anything but a pleasure. Although her expression was carefully guarded, Shepard knew when her bondmate was rattled. Liara greeted Samara further with a slight nod of her head before settling into a deliberately protective position at Shepard's side. The touch of the arm that slid around Shepard's waist clearly conveyed her unease. Liara, who prided herself on knowledge, had absolutely no idea why or how the justicar had come to find them on Omega. Myke was still in a state of shock, eyeing Samara warily from her perch on the sofa, seemingly pleased that Shepard and Liara were acting as a sort of buffer.

"You look well, Liara," Samara offered. "But I can see my presence causes you concern. I assure you that my motives in seeking Shepard out are not to cause harm, but to help. You will not be pleased to know of the rumours that exist."

"I know they exist," Liara replied in a cold voice. Samara did not know of her role as the Shadow Broker, so she did not offer further explanation. "I had not thought them to be widespread."

"They are not, however they have recently come to the attention of Shepard's former employers, the Systems Alliance. I found evidence of orders in the databanks of a ship I had been pursuing on unrelated matters. The orders were to ascertain whether there was any truth to the rumours," Samara explained. "I do not know why, but the Alliance's pursuit of you does not seem to be altruistic, Shepard."

"It's a long story," Shepard replied, unwilling to go into further details. "Suffice to say, I'm no longer their poster child."

"That particular mercenary will not be making it to Omega." Samara also did not explain further. "But there may be others."

Liara remained unconvinced. "It seems highly fortuitous that it was you who discovered this information, Justicar."

Samara responded with a small nod. "I agree, however I also believe that there are certain people to whom you are drawn. For me, Shepard is one of the strongest of these I have ever felt. Although I fulfilled my original obligation in helping you defeat the Collectors if you will acquiesce, I intend to once again pledge my loyalty to you."

"Okay, not that I don't appreciate the offer, Samara, but what about the Code?"

"I am the last of my order, Shepard." Samara's voice finally carried a hint of emotion in response to her statement. Although it did not seem sufficient to convey the magnitude of her words. "I am also nearing the end of my life and I do not have the centuries ahead of me that I once did - not nearly the amount of time required to train a new generation of justicars. Instead, my legacy will be the restoration of peace to the Galaxy."

"That's all very...lofty," Shepard said. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You are the best hope for that peace," Samara replied, much to Shepard's consternation. "However if you do not require my services, I shall leave."

"No, I definitely want you to stay," Shepard replied hurriedly. "Although you might have to keep a low profile. I can't imagine Aria T'Loak will be pleased to have a justicar on Omega - if she doesn't already know you're here." Shepard turned to her surprisingly quiet bondmate. "Liara?"

"I must confess that the practicalities of protecting you by myself have caused me concern," Liara admitted. "Having Samara here will change that. If something happens to me...well, it is nice to know that I no longer have to do this alone."

"What am I then?" Myke piped up from the sofa. "Dead weight?"

"You're essential, Myke," Shepard reassured the young asari as she glanced over her shoulder. "But did you realise you've got sauce all over your face?"