Something Blue

by Hamhammer

An alternate perspective on a renegade Commander Shepard, why she fights, and what she lives and dies for. Spans from ME1 through ME3. FemShep/Liara pairing, non-explicit. Rated M for adult situations and just to be on the safe side.

27. Chapter 27

A/N: This chapter has taken me so long to write. I am very, very, very sorry.

Long note for this one. Let's see...

First off, I will sometimes drop into pseudo-prothean. Since I'm not a linguist (sadly not one of my talents), I'm shamelessly stealing an Earth language to serve this purpose. I'll let you all figure out which one.

Second, I mentioned this chapter taking a long time to write? Most of my stuff is written in a single draft (two at most), quickly checked for accuracy, and then uploaded (hence the typos). This chapter took three different outlines, eight nearly complete drafts, and about twenty re-writes of some key scenes. Going through my archive, this chapter is about 15,000 words, and I have just about a hundred thousand words in scraps and abandoned segments.

Third, I haven't forgotten about the cutting room floor. That will likely go up sometime in the next month or so (after taxes and classes wrap up for the semester), and include a few things from the previous chapter and this one. It won't be updated unless I have a particularly interesting piece to post, however.

Fourth, my apologies if there are hiccups here – the first half of the chapter was literally written last year, while the final section was written about half an hour ago. I do my best to keep things cohesive, but I don't always succeed.

Once more, into the breach!

---

Shepard stepped back into the hazy afternoon sun of Feros and blinked, her eyes adjusting slowly from the gloom of what had been the Thorian's chamber.

I must have been down there longer than I thought, she mused, looking around the ruins of the colony. When she'd entered the Thorian's chamber, the blasted ancient building had been covered with acrid smoke and unconscious – or dead – bodies. Now it was a veritable hub of activity, with grim-faced marines carrying stretchers from triage segments to the colony's hospital, and from the hospital to what was obviously a recovery room... or a morgue.

"Commander," Pressley said, stepping up to her and saluting briskly. "I'm glad to see you're okay."

"As well as I can be," Shepard replied, returning the salute with a wry smile. "Bring me up to speed?"

Pressley nodded and gestured over at the marines. "Doctor T'Soni and Tali'Zorah reached us about the same time that we managed to clear the last of the vines from the outside of the Normandy," he said. "They gave us the short version, and we mobilized everyone we could to assist with the wounded."

Shepard nodded. "I take it Doctor Chakwas is somewhere in that mess, then?"

"She's working in the hospital, yes," Pressley confirmed. "Are you injured?"

"No," Shepard reassured him quickly, rubbing her temples. "Well, probably not. But I'll need to speak with her before we're done here."

"Understood, ma'am," he said. "We've set up triage, but the troops aren't really trained to deal with lots of head injuries – they leave those for the doctors, and we just don't have enough."

"Spectre, if I may," Shiala said, stepping forward slightly. "I am not a doctor, but I have extensive medical training, and I may be able to help."

Shepard regarded the asari for a moment, then nodded. "Go," she said.

Shiala bobbed her head in thanks and set off at a brisk stride for the hospital.

"Who was she?" Pressley asked, brows slightly narrowed at the asari's retreating back.

Shepard sighed. "It's a long story," she said. "I'll explain at the debriefing. I don't think she's a threat... but if you want to have a couple marines keep a discreet eye on her for the time being, I wouldn't object."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and tapped a note into the data slate he was carrying. "Aside from the medical situation, we're actually not in that bad of a position right now. Chief Williams and Urdnot Wrex did an admirable job clearing out the sublevels and taking care of some of the colonists' infrastructure needs."

"Infrastructure needs?" Shepard asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Clearing out some geth holed up in the tunnels, restoring the water pipeline from the glacier, varren hunting, things like that."

"I see," Shepard said, rubbing her temples again.

Pressley's brow furrowed further. "Commander, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm-" she began to say I'm all right, then bit her tongue. If she was being honest with herself, she wasn't all right. She had no doubt she had overextended herself in the fight through the colony, and would be paying the price for that over the next several days. On top of that, she'd had the voyeuristic plant's memories of hundreds of years of civilization dumped wholesale into her brain.

Because really, that was what the Cipher was. It wasn't some magical "understand the protheans" wand the asari had waved over her; it was literally three lifetimes' worth of memories – language, culture, attitude, convention, fashion, you name it – crammed into her head that she had to work through. To make matters worse, while it wasn't as fragmented as the beacon vision, it was definitely incomplete.

Shepard had grown up in the slums and on the streets of Vancouver. It had been a rough life, and one of her few breaks from the difficulties of that life had been the chance to read and learn in the public library. She had devoured books, from works of fiction to textbooks, and some of her fondest memories were sitting in the overstuffed chair near the window reading during the many rainstorms that drenched Vancouver during the winter months.

But there were limits even to her thirst for knowledge, and Shiala's imparting of the Cipher certainly sated it – and then some. She was grateful for the information, to be sure, but... noroi za'ure'u, as they would say in the prothean tongue. 'Never again.'

"Commander?" Pressley asked again, drawing closer. "Ma'am?"

She shook her head, wincing at the pain the gesture brought. "No, Pressley, I'm not all right," she admitted. "I'm worn out and I've had my head messed with in some pretty serious ways, and I'm not handling it as well as I thought I would."

Pressley blinked in surprise, before his expression settled on 'alarmed'. "The Thorian?"

Shepard shook her head – slowly, this time, to avoid aggravating her growing headache. "No, by the asari from earlier. I'll give you the full story in the debrief, but the short version is that she gave me some very important information. It's just a bit much to absorb all at once."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm not brainwashed, Pressley. The asari don't work like that. I am, however, very tired."

She rolled her eyes at the old soldier's scowl. He's not convinced. Well, to hell with him. He can't actually relieve me from duty for having a headache.

"I promise I'll see Chakwas before making any galaxy-altering decisions, Pressley," she said, and to his credit, he at least had the sense to look sheepish.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said, rubbing the back of his head with his spare hand. "I'm just not very comfortable with..." he trailed off awkwardly, and waved his hand around at the wreckage of the colony.

"All the mind stuff?" Shepard finished for him, and he nodded. "I'll tell you the truth, Pressley, I'm not entirely pleased with it, either. Between the things we learned about Saren, the Thorian, and the asari, there's entirely too much meddling with thoughts going on."

And that was true, to an extent. She didn't like the idea of somebody controlling her mind and her thoughts, but if it was happening, she wouldn't be able to tell. After all, her mind was the instrument she used to determine whether or not her thoughts were sound, and if it was being altered... how would she know? Unless the person implementing the control was particularly lacking in subtlety, she doubted she'd ever realize it.

Which was what made mind control – real mind control, not turning people into puppets – was so compelling to those who wished to stay in power. What better way to end a fight than by making your enemies not want to fight you?

"I'm glad I'm not the only one, ma'am," he said with a small smile before checking his data slate. "In any case, that's my update. What do you plan to do next?"

Shepard pursed her lips. "First order of business is to get the ground team back aboard the Normandy, get everyone cleaned off, and hold a debriefing," she said.

"All hands, or just the specialists?" he asked, making a note on the slate.

Shepard shook her head. "Just the specialists – I can get the reports from the marines when they're done patching people up here. We also need to call for a proper Alliance support team."

"I can handle that if you'd like, ma'am," he offered. "Nothing special?"

"Just make sure they know to bring biohazard gear," she said after a moment's pause. "From what I understand, the Thorian's dead, but I don't want to risk anything if there turns out to be long-term exposure problems."

"Understood, ma'am. Anything else?"

"Umm," Shepard hummed, tapping her lip. "Ah. I need to call ExoGeni."

He smirked. "I imagine they'd like to know what's happened here."

She smiled coyly. "Oh, I'm sure it will be an interesting conversation," she said.

He chuckled. "So, debrief, medical evaluation, keep an eye on the asari, call the Alliance, and call ExoGeni. Was that it, ma'am?"

She paused, then shrugged. "If there's anything else we need to take care of here, I can't think of it at the moment," she said finally. "We'll be heading back to the Citadel after this for a couple days – I think Noveria will hold for the time being, and we've been running pretty ragged."

"As much as I'd like to see Saren dead sooner, I think you're right, ma'am," he replied. "We could use a chance to catch our breath."

Shepard nodded. "Alright. I'm going to go sit through decontamination and hold a debrief for the ground team, you can get the notes later. I'm leaving you in charge of things here."

He snapped a quick salute. "Aye aye, ma'am. And... thank you for the colonists," he added.

"Just my duty, Pressley," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh. Did Liara and Tali go back to the Normandy, or did they stay to help out?"

"They tried," Pressley said with a smile. "Chakwas sent them packing."

"Good on her," Shepard said. "I'm worn out, and I'm used to this. They'd just make mistakes they'd regret."

"I believe Chakwas said something like that," he said with a chuckle. "They just headed back a few minutes ago."

"Then I'd better go catch them before they cycle the airlock without me," Shepard said, and began jogging for the Normandy's docking bay.

---

They had already started the usual decontamination cycle by the time Shepard reached the airlock, but rank hath its privilege – and Shepard wasn't in the mood to chill her heels for half an hour for their cycle to finish before she started hers. She punched the override code into the airlock and stepped inside with a smirk.

"Commander!" Liara said, sitting up quickly from the bench at the side of the chamber. "We wanted to stay and help, but Chakwas said we needed to come back here to-"

Shepard held up her hands and smiled tiredly, the airlock chirping as it restarted its cycle. "It's fine, Liara, really. Chakwas is good at her job. If she said come back here, then it was the right call to make."

The asari slumped slightly. "I... if you're sure, then..."

Shepard nodded firmly. "Doctor Chakwas has good judgment. I know I'm tired, and I'm accustomed to this. You two must be downright exhausted. How would you feel if you made a mistake, and somebody ended up hurt or killed because of it?"

"I..." Liara closed her eyes. "I know you're right," she whispered. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to... to help make up for what I did."

Tali said nothing from the bench next to her, but nodded slowly.

"Okay," Shepard said, sitting down on the opposite side of the airlock, bringing herself to eye level with the pair. "Listen to me, you two. How many people would be alive right now if we hadn't intervened?"

"I don't know, Shepard," Tali said. "The Thorian wasn't killing them..."

"So we should have left them in slavery? You saw how it treated them. How do you think it would have cared for the ones that couldn't work? To them, we're disposable assets. Do you really think that waiting for a relief force to arrive would have resulted in a better outcome?"

"I..." Tali began before Shepard cut her off.

"Here's what I think would have happened," she said firmly. "We'd have holed up with the other survivors while we waited for help to arrive. They'd have come down, but with overwhelming force... and the Thorian would realize that it was outgunned. That colony of five hundred foot soldiers facing us would become a colony of five hundred hostages facing our reinforcements. With just us, it thought it might win, and that gave us the chance to incapacitate them instead of having the Thorian have them kill each other off."

Liara paled. "I hadn't even considered that. Goddess, they'd have been forced to kill each other..." she shuddered.

Shepard nodded grimly. "Exactly. At our hands, the colonists endured a violent fight that left them injured, and in a few unfortunate cases, dead. But they were never shooting against their friends or family members. They had hope that we'd be able to stop them and free them."

"Some of them died at our hands. More still may die from the injuries we inflicted. I know I did everything in my power to kill as few of them as possible, and I know you did as well. I truly believe we did the best we possibly could, given the situation at hand with the resources we possessed."

"And if later on, if somebody – maybe one of us, maybe a third party – discovers a better alternative, or thinks up a better approach... I just want you both to remember this moment, when we sat down at the end of the day, and know we did the best we could. That we didn't cut any corners, that we're only mortal, and that we tried everything we could to save everyone."

"Does that really help?" Tali whispered, her hands folded in her lap and her gaze downcast. "Thinking like that, I mean. Does it work? Does it make it stop hurting?"

How the hell should I know? This sort of thing never bothered me in the first place!

She sighed. "Truthfully, Tali, I don't know. For some people, knowing that they did the best they could helps. Others... not so much."

"It helps me," Liara said. "The reasons. The logic. It is... reassuring."

A loud beep heralded the end of the decontamination cycle. Saved by the bell. Time to wrap this up.

"I'll tell you this much, Tali," she said with a wry smile, "It does get better with a hot shower, a meal, and some sleep. Although," she added with a frown, "I'm not sure what we can do about getting you a shower. We don't really have the facilities for that here."

"Don't worry about it," Tali said with a shake of her head. "We live in these suits. All I need is a clean source of water."

Shepard raised an eyebrow at the quarian, jamming a boot into the airlock door so it wouldn't close while Tali and Liara finished gathering their things. "Really?"

"Yes," Tali said while they walked toward the Normandy's interior elevator. "It's a bit clumsy, but it gets the job done, and it means we don't have to be disgusting inside the suits when we're out in the galaxy."

"Huh," Shepard said. "You know, Tali, you should have the fleet sell the mechanism to the Systems Alliance."

"What?" Tali asked, her stride breaking for a moment. "Why?"

Shepard smiled lopsidedly at her. "Because I've done missions in what the Systems Alliance thinks are 'long-mission use' suits, and they're miserable. I grew up back on Earth in some pretty dirty conditions and even I was ready to scrub that mission for the sake of simply getting clean."

"What was the mission?" Liara asked.

"A covert observation for a small religious movement," Shepard sighed. "Not particularly interesting."

Liara scowled while Shepard tapped the elevator's control. "Does the Systems Alliance take interest in personal religious beliefs frequently?"

Shepard laughed. "Only when your 'religious movement' is a personality cult led by a biotic ex-Marine with severe mental issues."

The lines faded from Liara's brow, and she smiled. "Ah."

"Yeah," Shepard said. "actually, it wouldn't surprise me if that one turned up again. We finished our observation, but given the delicate nature of things, the Alliance figured sending in some proper diplomats and psychologists instead of soldiers might help. Last I heard, they were still talking."

The elevator chimed and slid open. "Right," she said, "let's shed our gear and go get clean. It's-" she glanced at her omni-tool's clock display, "-about 1515, so let's say meet in the comm room at 1630 for a debrief? That should give everyone plenty of time to clean up."

Liara and Tali nodded. "Good," Shepard said. "Tali, I think they put your crates on the shelves ahead of the Mako. Don't hesitate to ask for help moving it back if you need it."

"I should be fine," Tali said. "They're not that heavy."

"As you wish," Shepard said. "Okay. Liara, let's go ditch this stuff. I want to go get clean in the worst possible way."

Liara smiled. "Right behind you, Shepard."

---

They walked into the showers in silence.

Liara was a little ashamed to feel a slight sense of relief when they turned out to be empty. She was not excessively modest, at least not by the standards of most of the galaxy, but by the standards of her own people she was downright prudish.

You are being silly, she scolded herself. You are not among your own people; you are among humans now.

Well, she thought with a small smile, humans, a krogan, a quarian, and an asari. I wonder if the selection was intentional multiculturalism, or simple expediency?

She opened the door to the stall and turned the water on, aiming the nozzle down while pipes warmed. She wasn't entirely sure why the designers of the Normandy put the water heaters on the opposite side of the vessel from their largest use, but she couldn't see any other reason for the water to take so long to heat.

Well, at least it gives me time to empty my pockets.

"Oh," Shepard called from outside the stall, "I think I forgot to go over this when we did the grand tour."

"Forgot to go over what?" she asked, leaning her head out of the stall.

She was reasonably sure that Shepard was answering her question. The human's mouth was moving, she heard the familiar doubling up of her translator's synthesized voice and the echoes of the human's own tongue, and she was even making some kind of gesture at the wall of the bathroom.

This was all carefully processed, parsed, evaluated, and then promptly thrown out while Liara's higher functions ground to a screeching halt.

Shepard was naked.

...and beautiful, too, a small part of her mind noted.

She knew that she was far from the first to notice the physical similarities between her people and humanity. It had been the source of a few conspiracy theories, the subject of several research studies, and the development of multiple industries, both wholesome and... less so. Even with humanity as a recent arrival on the galactic stage, they stood posed to claim the number one position for popularity in bondmate species for the asari, eclipsing even the turians.

In fact, that very similarity was what caused a minor backlash among some of the asari social circles. Despite the long cultural tradition of asari finding partners among other races, their biology had not even begun to select for attraction to other races as a genetic advantage. It would eventually, Liara was sure, but that kind of mutation took many generations to show up... and asari generations were long by galactic standards.

The result was an entire race of people that had very strong social compulsions to not act upon physical attraction to each other, and instead to turn outwards. Social mores might put restrictions on behavior, but suppressing a biological urge as strong as the attraction to one's own species was effectively impossible, especially on a mass scale. The asari could convince themselves to seek out the company of other races... but denying their attraction to each other was as foolish as it was futile.

Then along came the humans. Their males were... exotic, although similar enough to make them intriguing to many asari. Their females, on the other hand, were so close that a good cosmetic artist could make one species look like the other. To make matters even more interesting, humanity had a relatively high preponderance of homosexuality, with nearly one in ten humans carrying the markers for physical attraction to their own gender.

For the asari who had denied themselves for centuries, it was difficult. Here was an alien species that not only was very similar, but also with many members actively interested in pursuing relationships with them. Some asari perceived it as "cheating" to take a bondmate so like an asari... forgetting, of course, that the purpose wasn't to be a martyr for their people, but to ensure genetic diversity and foster communication between different people and cultures.

That was all fine and good, but it was one thing to know on an intellectual level that humans were almost identical to asari, and another thing entirely to have the object of one's growing crush casually talk to her while wearing absolutely nothing!

"Earth to T'Soni, Earth to T'Soni, come in, please?" Shepard called, snapping her fingers quietly in front of her face.

"W-what?" she stammered, then shoved her face in her hands while her cheeks flushed a deep purple. "Oh, Goddess, I'm so sorry- You must think me such a-"

She trailed off helplessly. She couldn't do it. There were no words for the stupefying levels of sheer embarrassment and shame she felt, and more than ever before she wished that she could be somewhere – anywhere – else. Or even for the decking to simply open up and swallow her whole. Either one would work.

Shepard laughed.

To Liara's great surprise, however, it wasn't an awkward, forced chuckle to try to alleviate or mask the social faux pas that she had just committed. Nor was it the cutting and sadistic amusement of somebody that realized exactly which how much another person was suffering. It wasn't even the confused laughter of somebody confronted with something entirely out of the blue.

Liara knew all of those far too well.

It was... she would have almost said tired. World-weary, and in an asari the kind of sound one might expect out of a matriarch who'd had an exceptionally long day.

She trailed off and shook her head. "Liara," she said wearily, "If there's anybody here that owes an apology, it's me. Not you."

"But I ignored you!" Liara exclaimed. "You were telling me something important, and I didn't pay enough attention because- because I was staring! It was disrespectful, and immature, and rude, and, and..."

She trailed off again and hung her head.

Shepard stepped up to her and placed a finger under her chin, gently lifting Liara's gaze to meet hers. Her tired eyes were not compassionate, not exactly, but... understanding, like she'd been in Liara's shoes before. Or something like it.

"Thre... no, four things, Liara," she said, stepping back once Liara was holding her head up on her own again. "First, and most importantly, I am not offended by what you did," she said, enunciating clearly for emphasis. "For the record, I'm pretty much impossible to offend. Aggravate, certainly, annoy, definitely, but offend?" She shook her head. "No."

"Second," she continued, "while I'm pleased to hear you pay close attention to the things I say, the particular instructions you missed regarded the Normandy's washing machine. I was not divulging the secret workings of the Universe, nor offering my insights on prothean puns. If you think you missed something I said, simply ask. If it's important, I'll make sure that the message was clearly received. Communication takes two people to be successful, after all."

She smiled at something, and in her dazed state Liara wasn't entirely sure what it was. "Third," she went on, "you're tired. Far more tired than you think, trust me. Being tired makes everything raw. Injuries hurt more. Social blunders you'd normally shrug off make you feel like the entire galaxy is judging you. You slip up and make mistakes more frequently. Tomorrow, what feels like calamity today will be a vaguely awkward memory. You're not the first person I've seen beat themselves up after doing something wrong while exhausted."

"Fourth, and the reason I owe you an apology... I'm tired. I'm making mistakes. See, I'm used to communal showers and relatively casual nudity," she explained, gesturing briefly at her own form. "Some of my earliest memories are from when the kids I grew up with and I took baths together. In basic training, you took showers quickly with a whole bunch of other people. Same for some ship deployments."

"Now, somehow," she said with a lopsided smile, "I don't think the introverted and academic only daughter of an asari matriarch spent a whole lot of time naked in the shower with a bunch of strangers."

Liara coughed and smiled weakly. "Ah... you would be correct."

How?

How does she do it?

Liara didn't understand. Problems just... went away around Shepard. It didn't matter what those problems were; nothing wrong seemed to last when she took notice of it. A social blunder that might have driven her to spend a guilt-ridden sleepless night reading academic texts in a vain attempt to distract herself from her own awkward memories was reduced to a minor mistake to chuckle at later. An argument between two people from very different species and cultures defused with both parties satisfied. Even people trying to kill her were dispatched quickly and with grace.

Nothing got under her skin. Nothing made her uncomfortable. Even the most dangerous or difficult task was reduced to small, easily handled pieces and dealt with appropriately. It would have been infuriating, seeing somebody hold all the answers when everyone else obviously didn't, if she didn't already seem to somehow have the answer to the problem of having all the answers!

"Well, I'm glad I guessed right, and I'm sorry for botching it the first time around," Shepard said. "Do you want me to go over what you missed?"

Liara's blush, which had been fading, threatened to return with a vengeance. "I would appreciate that, yes," she forced herself to say.

Shepard nodded and turned, repeating the explanation that Liara had tuned out. It really wasn't that crucial, she realized. Some things to remember if she ever tried to wash delicate garments, but she doubted that would come up aboard a military vessel. It's not like I'll be attending formal parties any time soon, she thought.

"Anyway," Shepard said after wrapping up the brief explanation, "just throw your jumpsuit in there and start the cycle when you're done. I'm going to go shower."

Liara guiltily watched the naked form of the commander saunter into the now-steamy shower stall out of the corner of her eye before turning her attentions to the washer.

A huge part of her wanted to heed the Commander's words and simply head for her shower now, get clean, and put everything that had happened out of her mind. It was the easiest approach, the most harmonious, and the one that conformed best with who she was and the values she had believed in and followed for most of her life.

But there was a piece of her – not a big one, not yet, but still a piece – that urged otherwise. The conspiratorial voice in the back of her mind, the one that suggest the outrageous, the impossible, the unacceptable.

You want to be part of her crew, do you not? It whispered while she stared at the washer. The soldiers here don't care about nudity. They would not even think twice about what you are so hung up on.

Besides, the un-voice went on while remained rooted to the deck while she distantly heard Shepard moving around in her stall, it's not like anyone will notice... or even see. Not this time. The crew is in the colony working. The only living soul that could possible notice is just over there... and she's occupied.

She reached for the fastener at her throat.

Besides, you want her to notice.

That was too far. She slammed down on that part of her, locked it away and shoved it into an even darker and more remote corner of her mind, hopefully where it wouldn't bother her any more.

She spun on her heel, stepped into the stall next to Shepard's, and closed the door behind her. Quickly, briskly, mechanically she removed her jumpsuit, and set it in the corner of the stall.

Doing her best to ignore the surge of disappointment that seemed to well up inside her while she did.

---

In her own shower, Shepard rubbed her eyes tiredly.

She needed to change her plans, she realized belatedly. She had intended to make several comm-calls to different organizations on the Citadel after completing the mission debrief, but if she couldn't remember a fairly important detail about her own squad member, then she had no place conducting business some of the shakers and movers of the consequences were simply too severe to approach those talks at anything less than her best.

Speaking of consequences... at least you managed to salvage the situation with Liara, she thought with a sigh. She didn't think a little full frontal would break the girl, but it was important to her to keep a comfortable working relationship with the asari, at least until the situation with the matriarch was resolved.

And possibly beyond that, she thought, recalling the conversation she'd had with Shiala beneath Zhu's Hope. She'd come to enjoy her conversations with the young doctor. The asari had a remarkably fresh view on the galaxy and people in general, and Shepard very much appreciated being able to discuss more academic with somebody whose eyes wouldn't glaze over. They had spent a fair amount of their free time wandering the citadel discussing Liara's theories on the protheans, with the doctor enthusiastically picking her mind for anything that might shed new light on her chose field. Shepard, in turn, had asked many questions about the asari political system, and had gotten a solid if slightly disillusioned insight into their very long approach to governance and influence.

It also didn't hurt that she was also quite easy on the eyes, in addition to being an interesting individual to talk to. While the young doctor might not be the most stunning example of her species, there was no denying the beauty in her physique and her poise. She might be socially awkward to a comical degree, but she moved with the grace of one trained from an early age, and Shepard doubted she was the first to notice.

Still, she mused while rubbing shampoo through her short hair, any kind of relationship with the doctor would require her not to run screaming when she finds out what you are. Ah, well. A pity.

She mulled it over for a few minutes while working her way through the 'repeat' section of her shampoo instructions, then shrugged to herself. There really was no point in overthinking it, especially not now, with so many other things more deserving of her attention than what could only ever be wild guesswork. Like Saren. Or his reapers, whatever they are. Or the matriarch. Or dealing with ExoGeni. Or...

She sighed. The list was long, but she'd made good headway so far. Only a few more things she had to deal with today, and then she could get some sleep, and start working on what she suspected would be a very long backlog of unusual dreams, courtesy of the prothean cipher.

I can't even catch a break while asleep, she grumbled, shutting off the water and reaching for a towel.

---

An hour and a half later, the tired crew slowly filtered their way into the circular communications room. It had been a long day, and it showed on everybody's face. Garrus was quietly discussing something with Kaidan, Wrex was slowly polishing a piece of his armor that had taken a hit in the line of fire while Liara tapped something in to her omni-tool. Tali was curled up inside her bucket seat, and Shepard suspected that she'd fallen asleep some time ago.

The door hissed open to admit Ashley, who was running a finger through her still-wet hair. "Hey, sorry I'm late, Commander," she apologized with a tired smile. "I've got three pieces of good news, though."

Shepard leaned back against the wall and folded her arms. "I'll forgive you this time," she said with a smirk. "Lay 'em on us, Chief."

"Thanks, ma'am," Ash said, collapsing into one of the chairs with a huff while Tali shook her head and stretched. "First up: Doc says we're not going to turn into green zombies. You need to be exposed to this stuff for weeks for it to do anything, and in pretty high concentrations. We're all clear."

"And here I was picking out a new wardrobe to match 'puke green,'" Shepard said to scattered chuckles. "Oh, well. I suppose I'll have to live with being pink. What else?"

Ash's smile faded somewhat. "I got word from Zhu's Hope. They've got a couple cases they're keeping in medical comas until proper neurologists arrive, but it looks like everyone else injured in the fighting is going to pull through."

Shepard nodded slowly. "Do we have a final casualty count yet?"

Ash shook her head. "Not yet, ma'am. They're working on it. Probably somewhere in the vicinity of sixty or seventy, though, at least from what I saw."

Shepard sighed and unfolded her arms. "Thanks for the update, Chief. What's the last thing?"

"Oh," Ash said, looking a little sheepish. "Adams has a solvent mixture that does a number on the slime those... things... spew. It's a bit rough on jumpsuit color, but it gets it off."

Wrex perked up at that. "Who has it?" he grunted, setting down the rag and armor plate.

"Greg Adams? Chief Engineer?" Ash said. "He's down in the drive core."

"Hrh," Wrex rumbled, staring at her for a long moment. "Thanks," he added finally.

Ash shot Shepard a helpless glance. What? Don't look at me, Shepard thought at the woman. You're the one defying his expectations.

"Alright, the sooner we start this, the sooner we can all go rest properly," Shepard said. "Somebody wake Tali up?"

"I'm awake, I'm awake," the quarian said, starting at the sound of her name. "What did I miss?"

Shepard smiled at her. "Nothing," she said. "We're starting debriefing."

"Oh," Tali said, settling down somewhat to work the kinks out of her muscles. "That's good, then."

"Now, I know I said this before to a few of you already, but I'll repeat it here for everyone," she said, "you all handled that mission amazingly well. We went in with a vague goal and bad intel, and still managed to come out with not only our general objectives accomplished, but a whole lot of lives saved. I don't care what anybody else says, I'm putting this one clearly in the victory column."

There were more than a few smiles exchanged at that, and Shepard was surprised to find herself tempted to share the satisfaction. The mission really had gone well, far beyond what she had expected, and even if the original goal of thwarting Saren hadn't been directly furthered, they'd gained a great deal of valuable knowledge.

Even if that knowledge will take some time to settle in my head, she thought.

"That said, I like to think that there's always room for improvement. So! Problems: Lay them on me. Things that went wrong, things you think could have been done or decided better, things we should remember for the future."

Wrex's hand shot up.

"Wrex," Shepard said with a nod at him.

"Your assault cannon needs a new grip," he said. "It's fine if you set it on something, but moving and shooting is a joke. The forward grip is too small and it's in the wrong spot to balance the gun."

"I don't think they expected people to use it on the move much," Shepard replied.

"Then why give it a grip at all? Carrying straps would be better."

He has a point. "Okay, Wrex. Get me a writeup on the problem and I'll make sure the Alliance weapons development team gets it. I can't guarantee they'll fix it, but I can make sure they'll read it. In the meantime, since I think you're the only one that can carry and fire that thing on the move, feel free to take it down to the quartermaster and have him modify it. Anything else?"

He nodded, somewhat mollified. "Just one," he said. "We need new hand signals."

In the chair next to him, Ash nodded emphatically. "He's right, ma'am," she said. "Some of our hand signals don't work for people with three fingers."

"Go figure," Shepard said. "Okay. I'm tabling that for now, but I'll talk it over with the folks back at the citadel when we get there. Hopefully there's already a set we can train people on that have already been tested. In the meantime, try to stick to voice calls."

Both of them nodded.

"Aside from that, how'd clearing the lower levels go? Any major problems?"

Ash and Wrex glanced at each other, then shook their heads. "Not really, ma'am, although we did have to go back for spare parts once."

"Spare parts?"

Wrex chortled while Ash blushed. "Old pipes don't mix with missile launchers," he said with a laugh.

Shepard smirked. "Nice shooting, Ash. Did you get everything working?"

"Eventually, yeah," the chief nodded. "Water's flowing, geth were cleared out, and we even murdered a really big varren for 'em."

"He wasn't that big," Wrex objected. "They get much larger on Tuchanka."

Ash shuddered. "Wonderful," she muttered under her breath, then held up a finger. "Oh! The crazy guy."

"Right. Him." Wrex scoffed dismissively. "He was crazy."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "I think that goes with the 'crazy' moniker, Wrex," she said. "Who was down there and why was he crazy?"

"I don't know, ma'am," Ash said. "I honestly sort of forgot about him when everything went nuts up top. He was a man, young to middle aged, ranting about the master's yoke. In hindsight, it's pretty clear what he was talking about, but at the time..."

Shepard sighed. "...he just seemed crazy. Okay. We'll make sure that the colony knows he was down there and sends somebody to check on him. Anything else?"

Ash shook her head. "I think that was it, ma'am. Smooth sailing, aside from the whole... you know. Plant monster deal."

"Good to hear," Shepard said. "Wrex?"

"Uhuh," he grunted.

"I'll take that as an affirmative. Garrus? Kaidan? You were topside; how'd handling the colony go?"

Kaidan shrugged. "Garrus handled most of that. I was sidetracked trying to fix their headaches, which they seemed unusually reticent to discuss," he said with a rueful smile. "Makes sense now, of course. Besides that, it was pretty quiet – people seemed both relieved and wary to have us there, right up until they all started attacking."

"My part was pretty easy, to be honest," Garrus said when Kaidan looked at him. "We organized the defenses, took some potshots at a couple scouts, and began work on some fortifications. Standard procedure, and all that."

He sighed. "Things were quiet until right before you came back on comm, ma'am. Then... well."

"Any casualties when they first attacked?" Shepard asked. It wasn't the nicest question, but it needed to be asked, and she figured Garrus could handle it.

"No, thank the spirits. Some of them seemed to fight whatever it was long enough to warn us to get away from the colony. If they hadn't, well... it might have ended far worse than it did."

"As much as I dislike relying on luck, I'm not sure there's a way we could have reasonably planned for this scenario," Shepard said dryly. "Still, from the sound of things it seems like all of your groups managed fairly well."

"Which means," she said, "it's my turn. And yes, this matters, because I want your input on what happened down there. You see..."

---

The explanation took a little longer than she'd have liked. Between stopping for questions, several side conversations on the subject of geth philosophy, a brief lesson on asari physiology, and her own mounting headache, Shepard was quite glad when she finally finished her account of the mission to the rest of the ground crew.

"So," Ash said, breaking the silence while Shepard took a drink from a water bottle, "is anyone else here getting a mind control vibe? Because I'm getting a mind control vibe."

"You're not the only one," Kaidan said, his face grim. "This is like the rumors that people used to tell about biotics, except worse."

"Why? Because they're real?"

"Well, that, and because Saren can apparently do it to a bunch of people at once, and they don't even know it's happening while he does it," Kaidan said. "Talk about a nightmare."

There were more than a few nods around the room at that.

"Let's look on the bright side, people," Shepard said, rubbing her temples. "It doesn't seem like he can do it at a distance, so we only need to really worry about people that have been on board his warship. Also, with the Thorian dead, that avenue is closed, as well."

"The commander is right," Liara said. "The fact that Saren possesses the ability to dominate minds is horrifying, but it does not pose any immediate threat to us, nor does it materially affect our plans."

Tali leaned forward in her chair. "Wait a minute," she said, "what about that asari in the colony? Shiala? She was definitely on board his vessel. She could be under his control but pretending not to be!"

Shepard shook her head and immediately regretted the decision. "Akgh. No, I think she's a special case," she said. "Whatever the Thorian did to her when she was cocooned up inside it helped break the hold Saren had on her. I won't pretend that she's not a mess, but I didn't get the impression that she was a double agent when she went poking through my – eugh – skull."

Liara scowled. "Shepard, are you all right? You seem a bit... pale. Is the cipher causing you problems?"

"I have the mother of all headaches," Shepard admitted. "Not sure if that's related or just the result of a long day."

"Any little white flashes?" Kaidan asked quickly. "Blurry vision on one side? Dizziness?"

Shepard scowled, then winced. "No flashes, but my vision's definitely a bit off, and I'm a bit woozy. I thought it was just tiredness, but..."

Kaidan hissed in sympathy. "Sounds like a biotic migraine. You were making pretty heavy use of your abilities today. Even the L3s aren't completely immune."

"Do you have a history of these headaches, Shepard?" Liara asked.

"None," Shepard said.

Liara's mouth quirked. "Then it is likely a side effect of the meld," she said apologetically.

"Wait, you mean that asari did something to the Commander's head?" Ash asked, eyes narrowing.

"No, no, nothing like that," Liara answered quickly. "It comes with any meld that attempts to do too much all at once. Shepard, she said the meld was experience, yes? What kind of experience?"

"Memories, mostly," Shepard replied. "The Thorian watching for a very long time. Decades, at the very least, and probably centuries. It's a bit of a muddle at the moment, to be honest."

Liara nodded. "Definitely the meld, then. Most minds – ours included – try to process new experiences gained from a meld quickly. We try to put the new memories in context, find things to relate to them, and thus figure out how to access them."

"Hold on a minute," Ash said, her voice dubious. "Are you saying that Shepard has, I don't know, pulled her brain muscle? Or something?"

The chief shot a what? expression at Kaidan's glare while Shepard grinned despite the pain.

"An apt, if crude, metaphor," Liara said, missing the entire exchange. "Migraines are typically caused by sudden changes in blood flow to the brain. If the brain itself begins working exceptionally hard – if a meld has spurred a huge increase in activity – then the change in blood flow can cause one."

"Be that as it may," Shepard said, rubbing her neck, "is there anything to do for it besides taking a couple painkillers and heading somewhere dark?"

"I know a couple tricks," Kaidan offered. "I've been dealing with migraines since I was a teenager."

"I'll take you up on that after we wrap up here," Shepard said. "Did anyone have any other questions before I call this?"

"Actually, ma'am?" Ash said, raising her hand slightly. "What are we doing now?"

Shepard let out a long breath. "That's actually a good question," she admitted. "While I stand by my view that this mission was a success for reasons already discussed, we're somewhat lacking in a solid next step."

She nodded slightly at Liara. "The one lead we have remaining is a visit to Matriarch Benezia's last known location on Noveria. Given that I have the Noveria relay watched like a hawk, I'm inclined to head to the Citadel first for resupply and a couple days of R&R before we set off for that ball of ice. Barring any other developments, that's our next step."

"Ah, Shepard?" Liara asked.

"Mm?" Shepard hummed, rubbing her neck again.

Liara wasn't quite scuffing her foot on the deck, but if she'd been standing, Shepard was sure she would be. "I may actually be able to help... with both of your problems, I mean."

Shepard glanced down from the spot on the ceiling she'd been staring at. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... we know Saren came here for some kind of information, presumably that would let him make sense of the message he gained from the beacon. If... if I join my mind to yours, I may be able to help you sort out some of the cipher."

She glanced down briefly before continuing. "I may also be able to help with the headache. You would be... amazed at how many asari attempt to make up for missed classes by getting the information from their peers, rather than studying on their own."

"You know, that explains why the asari have schools at all," Kaidan said, tapping a finger against his jaw. "I always wondered about that."

"Migraine or school? I'd take the migraine, myself," Ash said. "School was miserable."

"Migraines are worse," Kaidan said with conviction. "Trust me."

Liara coughed. "Shepard? Your thoughts?"

Her first reaction was as vehement as it was reflexive: No, absolutely not.

It was a caution born of a literal lifetime's worth of hiding, keeping the truth hidden, burying a secret in plain view that could otherwise spell ruin for her plans for her life. For the entirety of her existence, the risk of being found out had dominated nearly every aspect of her interactions with others. She weighed the risk of a dangerous or heroic act against the possibility that somebody upset with her reputation or failure to render aid when she could help would dig into her past and reveal it, or add to the people attempting to blackmail her.

People were, after all, less likely to look too closely at their heroes than their villains. Saren knew it all too well, if the meeting with the council was any indication.

But even as she already began building a case for why melding with the asari wasn't a good idea – her head was already sore, she didn't want to waste people's time, she didn't think it would do any good – the more rational part of her mind was already questioning its necessity.

Why did she need to hide?

The first Spectre had been a monster by any standard, having murdered a crowd of people just to remove the chance that his target would escape. The young salarian had been drafted expressly because of who and what he was, not in spite of it, and Shepard possessed a far better mask than he had. The humans hadn't smashed the backronym for a ghostly wraith into the department's name because it amused them, they had done so because it fit.

Not to say there wouldn't be a cost, of course. There would be an inevitable hit to her reputation, especially if the news became public, but it might be a case of one of those strange secrets that actually becomes less dangerous the more of it you told. A well-founded rumor that the Commander had murdered children, not once, but multiple times? Devastating to her reputation. The acknowledgment that the Commander had a mental condition that affected her ability to interact with people, but that she tried her best to do what people perceived as right because it made her life easier? That might even garner sympathy.

The biggest threat actually wasn't from the public, she realized in a flash. It was from her handlers, the ones who had set her up into joining the military, the ones who had bent rules and buried histories and done all sorts of other behind-the-scenes work in order to make sure she got through her training without being arrested. Pointing out that she was no longer subject to the sword of Damocles that they had been holding over her head her entire life would undoubtedly make many of them very nervous.

After all, if they were in my place, they would resent what they had done to me.

And to a degree, she was displeased... but not really with them. She'd been upset when it was first forced upon her, yes, but keeping grudges wasn't her style. It just wasn't how her mind worked. She was upset that circumstances had emerged to force her down a path she might not have otherwise chosen, yes, but she hardly blamed them for capitalizing on a valuable asset in what they believed to be the best way. Besides, there was some matter of good fortune to it, as well – there truly were few individuals in the Systems Alliance as capable as she was, and the risk Saren posed to humanity was far too great to trust to somebody else.

So while their hold on her was weakening, the circumstances they had managed to coerce her into had revealed a far more solid compulsion to work with them. Ironic, perhaps, but if there had been no truth to their initial claims of her being needed they would never have pushed so hard to get her in the first place. Governments and militaries didn't work that way.

The question that remained, then, was whether or not to let the cat out of the bag.

She closed her eyes.

Why not both?

She didn't have to shout what she was and did to the whole galaxy. She could tell those that she felt would help her more if they knew the truth, or that she didn't wish to spend the effort to hide around. She could simply keep up pretenses around those that didn't, like the public or those with less... conviction... regarding her mission and goals. And if the rumors swirling became too intense, well, she always could go public. A little public relations work would go a long way, after all...

Which only left the issue of the asari standing before her.

She opened her eyes and met Liara's waiting gaze.

"Very well," she said, feeling an anticipatory rush with the words for what she was about to unleash on the unsuspecting asari. "But you may wish to send for Doctor Chakwas first," she added with a humorless smile.

Liara frowned slightly. "Are you concerned for your health? I assure you, it is not dangerous-" she began, and Shepard chuckled.

"Not for me, Doctor," she said, stepping closer to her. "For you. The beacon message is... not pleasant. Reactions can vary."

"She's right," Kaidan said, standing quickly. "I'll make sure Chakwas is available."

Ash stood alongside him. "And I'll fetch a bucket," she said with a wink at the Commander. "Don't want a repeat of last time."

Gossip. The only thing in the galaxy to travel faster than light without a mass effect core.

"Go, then," Shepard said, waving them off before returning her focus to the asari before her. "Liara. As you were."

Liara took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, stepping forward to close the last gap between them. "Relax, Shepard," she intoned, her eyes closed, then opened them to reveal the jet black orbs of an asari utilizing her unique abilities, "and embrace eternity!"

---

Liara could barely contain her excitement.

When she'd proposed the meld with the Commander, she'd expected her to turn her down. Shepard was as tired as she was, by her own admission, and she had a huge list of reasons not to let the daughter of a traitor access to her mind.

She'd have felt a little guilty about it, if Shepard hadn't already experienced a meld not hours previously. She had to know the depth of sharing that was possible with such a bond, and the kind of knowledge that could be shared through it.

But she'd said yes. She'd obviously thought it over for a moment or two, but it wasn't hesitant, or regretful. Liara didn't know what the Commander had considered in those few seconds before accepting, but whatever it was obviously wasn't enough to make her say no.

"Relax, Shepard," she said, doing her best to keep her voice level while she felt the rush that always accompanied the act of opening her mind to another, "and embrace eternity!"

The room, the crew, and the rest of the universe vanished as she reached out for the woman before her.

---

The first thing she noticed was the cold.

It wasn't just a physical chill, although that was certainly how her mind interpreted what she was getting through her end of the meld. It was a deeper thing, more like the idea of cold – of a heartless winter storm, uncaring and remorseless in its might – that she felt. It was a cold that sapped not only the body's strength, but the heart's compassion, drawing away everything that made life, well... life.

This was not what she had expected from the mind of somebody so kind, so warm, so considerate as Shepard was. Even if she'd somehow made a mistake, and accidentally tapped into a memory she wasn't supposed to be examining, she wouldn't have expected this kind of reaction. Not from her.

Something is very wrong.

She forced her eyes open, taking her first look around Shepard's mind, and gasped.

She was floating upon an iceberg, one of countless thousands slowly drifting upon a still black ocean. Between it and the flat gray skies above her, the only features in the mindscape she found herself in were the sea, the ice, herself... and a lone figure, sitting low upon a slightly taller iceberg, with its chin resting upon its fist as it surveyed the unchanging waters.

Shepard!

She took a step toward the distant figure, only to lurch to a halt when the iceberg she stood upon shifted dangerously with her weight. The iceberg wobbled, and she quickly dropped to her hands and knees – she didn't know what would happen if she were to end up in the oceans of this world the Commander had constructed inside her own mind, but with the cold already numbing her fingers, she doubted the experience would be pleasant.

The true shock came when her hands brushed the light dusting of snow from the surface of the ice.

There, entombed within the pale blue structure of the iceberg, was a figure. It was hard to make out, buried deep as it was, but it was clearly not just frozen water. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she peered more closely at the iceberg, dropping her head down to squint into the shifting blue.

"-hypersonic explosive round between the upper pair of eyes, which is where the higher brain functions for batarians reside," she said casually, taking a bite out of an energy bar. "He was brain-dead before the sound of the shot had a chance to reach his ears."

"Jesus," one of the other men whispered, lips turning green. "Jesus."

"If you're going to be sick, do it in the hall, please," she said to the solider. She'd have to make sure the automated cleaner bot took care of it regardless – it didn't do to leave behind DNA evidence, after all – but it'd be easier to take care of, and if he stayed in here, the other soldier might be inclined to make a similar performance.

She crumpled up the empty energy bar wrapped and stuffed it into a pouch. It was time to head back.

Liara knelt on the ice, eyes wide with horror while she covered her mouth with her hands.

Memories. These were the Commander's memories, buried here in the ice.

And they were the memories of a monster.

No, she thought in a rush. Maybe they're not all like that. Maybe she's just good at compartmentalizing. Goddess only knows she's been nothing but kind to me.

She picked herself up off the iceberg and set out for the next one, a new determination pushing her on through the cold.

---

Shepard didn't know what to think.

No. It was more than that.

She didn't know how to think.

She had entered into the meld with Liara expecting it to go largely as the one with Shiala had: A rush of incomprehensible experiences and memories, along with hints of her partner's state of mind, all tied up in a nice little metaphor.

Instead, she was strapped into a front-row seat while the young asari blundered through her memories, moving slowly along toward the archive that held the beacon's message. That itself wasn't that troublesome – one advantage of knowing one was always making the best choice with the best data possible was a life free of regrets – but it was Liara's reaction that burned.

Literally.

Her mind was a like a tornado of light and fury through the carefully ordered mental library Shepard had constructed, a flurry of wind that she barely understood, yet couldn't help but be caught up in.

The sheer agony Liara – and by extension Shepard, joined as they were by the meld – had felt when experiencing things that Shepard had given little heed to when they occurred was astounding. Shepard had nearly collapsed at the strength of Liara's reaction to the batarian boy's death at her hands at Torfan.

And it hadn't stopped.

Shepard wasn't sure what was driving Liara to sift through her memories in something approximating chronological order rather than going directly for the one that contained the becaon's message, but she didn't care. She didn't even mind that the asari's reaction was almost universally one of pain and misery, as each new experience brought a whole new delectable host of sensations for her.

This must be what it's like, to be like everyone else... she thought in wonder. I never knew...

It was astounding, exhausting, overwhelming, and delightful. The roller-coaster ride of sympathy, compassion, fear, revulsion, and even agony was a feast for Shepard's experience-starved mind. She reveled in it, wallowing in every sensation that Liara felt for her in her journey through her memories.

Distantly, even as she rode the tidal wave of feelings that Liara was searing into her mind, she knew it wouldn't last. These were not her emotions that she was experiencing; they were Liara's, and Shepard's mind was simply being carried along for the ride.

That didn't make them any less real, however, and while her own reactions were denied to her – and likely forever would be, given her physiology – that didn't make the experience she was getting any less valuable.

Even if they weren't her feelings... and even if they wouldn't last... she was still learning what it was to feel.

And it was glorious.

---

Liara rocked back and forth, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. Shepard was no hero. No kindhearted stranger to snatch her out of harm's way in the daring nick of time. She hadn't helped her because she had needed help, she'd helped because there was something she could get from her. All the advice she'd given, the revelations Liara had gone through... to Shepard, they must have only been the means to an end.

It was an exquisite agony, as her mind went over every interaction, every conversation, every piece of advice and sympathy offered. Each and every one had been carefully crafted to put her at ease, to make her feel welcome, to make her do what the human wanted... no, worse: To make her want to do it herself.

I have been fooled again, she thought bitterly to herself, and felt tears begin to roll down her cheeks. I am nothing but a tool to an end, just like before. Just like always.

She wasn't sure how long she knelt there on the ice, the cold slowly making her shiver, and then more slowly making her stop.

It was a good cold, now. Numbing. It took away the self-loathing, the hurt, the pain.

She wanted to stay here until it all went away.

But she couldn't do that.

Like it or not, she had a job to do. Regardless of what she thought of the one who'd tricked her into doing it, there was no denying that the job itself was worth doing. That the threat posed by Saren, his geth, and whatever ancient technology he was digging up was real and urgent.

She slowly stood and looked around. She needed to find more recent memories if she was going to see the message the beacon had left behind in Shepard's mind, and even newer ones than that if she was going to find any traces of the cipher.

There. The ice seems newer there. I'll head that way.

With remarkable dexterity for how numb she felt, Liara began hopping from iceberg to iceberg, making her way toward the newer memories trapped in the ice.

Wondering all the while why she was bothering.

---

"Whoa, that's not good," Ash said in the communications room. The rest of the ground crew had, after the first few minutes, taken out their omni-tools to read or had started small conversations between each other, but Ash had felt obliged to watch the Commander for any signs of distress or other 'weird alien mind stuff,' as she'd put it.

"What's that?" Chakwas said, glancing up from her omni-tool.

"I think Liara's crying," Ash said.

---

She managed to make her way through the shifting field of Shepard's frozen memories. While their association had seemed random, at first, over the course of her traversal she noticed a pattern: Recent memories tended to float nearer to the prone form of the Commander in the center of the field of ice, while older ones seemed to trail behind her. Each memory had something in common with all the ones it touched, which led to some very strange looking icebergs.

As organizational systems went, it was elegant, if simple, and even in her current state Liara found herself admiring how well organized the Commander's mind was.

The trail of various memories led her to one that seemed to touch a great deal of others, spreading out with almost star-like spikes to reach almost every iceberg in the area. Unlike every other iceberg she had crossed to reach this one, it had no dusting of metaphorical snow upon it, and in fact seemed to almost shimmer in the dead stillness of Shepard's mental landscape.

Almost like it doesn't belong, or is overwhelmingly strong...

She reached out to touch the memory, and had just enough time to realize that it felt warm before the world, once again, vanished completely.

This time, however, there was no gentle transition. She felt almost yanked into Shepard's memory of the prothean message, seared into her mind as it had been by the beacon.

Images flashed through her mind, the world seen through alien eyes and transcribed into a human mind. Random bursts of sound, impossibly loud, echoed through her head before cutting out or disintegrating into an incomprehensible roar.

There were scenes of protheans, or what she assumed were protheans, fleeing in terror from monsters and what looked to be corpses of their own kind. Images of alien vessels searing cities, bodies burning and twisting beneath salvos of gunfire, surged through her mind.

And this is second-hand, she thought in a momentary gap in the overwhelming force of the message. It was not the beacon's message, it was Shepard's memory of the beacon's message... a fact that she was profoundly grateful for.

Because there was another aspect to this nightmare show, one that apparently hadn't been transcribed properly: An emotional one.

With each image, there was a surge of... something... to accompany it. A warning so intense it inspired paranoia, but whatever was wrong with the Commander somehow dulled it, reducing it to the point where even Liara barely noticed. An image of a giant bug-like vessel, carrying with it a sense of loathing and repulsion that translated somehow to annoyance in Shepard's mind.

Either something lost in translation... or something in her mind doesn't work properly.

It was still far from comfortable, and the sensations that did make it through were enough to drive her once again to tears, but at least the message lacked the ability to directly make her experience the emotions the protheans wanted her to have.

This is terrible enough on its own, she thought desperately as images of what she assumed were protheans melting into slime flashed before her, without any... enhancements.

Unfortunately for their mission, the message seemed broken. Even the parts that were intact were difficult to decipher, and the parts that weren't simply degenerated into mindless noise and visual chaos. Worse, still, was that most of the important content was in the missing pieces of the message – the big, bold, attention-getting first part of the message was largely intact, but the parts that showed things like diagrams, galactic maps, and data was almost entirely buried in random garbage.

The beacon's imagery cut off with a surge of pain, a deafening silence, and a blissful darkness.

---

Shepard awoke with a start, the meld ending abruptly with the conclusion of the beacon's message.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. She was... wrung out was probably the best way to put it. Between the physical exhaustion of the day's activities and the mental exhaustion brought on by not one but two trying melds, she was reaching the end of her stamina.

And while the tumultuous intensity of Liara's immediate emotional responses to her life had ended with the meld, she still had her memories of the experience to reflect upon. She had no doubt that she had learned more about people in the brief minutes of the meld than she had in entire sections in the psychology section of the public library.

It was one thing to read a description of a feeling and the physical effects they had, and another thing entirely to experience it first – or second, as the case was – hand.

Still, if she had fared poorly after the meld, then Liara...

The distinctive double thump of a person falling to their hands and knees sounded through the briefing chamber, and Shepard looked down to see Liara shuddering and retching on the floor.

Yeah, that's about how it goes, Shepard thought with an unfamiliar rush of sympathy, remembering her less-than-dignified awakening after the beacon in the Normandy's medical bay.

"Holy shit," Ash said from the door before leaping up to stick a bucket beneath the heaving asari. "Jesus, that bad?"

Behind her, Chakwas moved forward with the same smooth efficiency she used whenever there was work to be done, quickly and steadily bringing up her omni-tool and the medical scanning equipment she'd added to it.

Shepard let them do their thing. The chair was looking quite appealing, and it would be more appropriate if she sat down rather than fell down.

Better for my image, too, she added as an afterthought.

"Shepard?" Kaidan asked, concern clear in his voice, "are you okay?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath before responding. They think we only exchanged the prothean beacon message. Don't disabuse them of the notion. Not yet. "That memory doesn't get better the second time around," she said, trying for a wry smile, but only managing a grimace. "I don't suppose you have any water?"

"Here," Kaidan said, grabbing a small plastic bottle from a collection somebody had piled on one of the seats. "Chakwas brought them with her in case Liara had a similar reaction to yours."

Shepard unscrewed the top and gulped down the contents, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve. "A good plan," she said, casting an eye at Liara.

The asari appeared to be getting her body back under something resembling control, and Shepard was glad they'd decided to undergo this little experiment before getting dinner – it meant that all Liara had managed to vomit up was some water and electrolyte mix she'd had after the mission, rather than the glory that was Normandy mess food.

But it also meant that she was going to start talking soon, and Shepard wanted to keep her from running off spouting about what she'd encountered in her mind. The instinct to keep things hidden wasn't gotten rid of instantly.

At least until I get the chance to speak with her properly.

Chakwas was patting her on the back and handing her a bottle of water when Liara finally met her gaze.

To her credit, she only flinched slightly at meeting her eyes. Shepard hoped that was a good sign, and not an indication that she was about to perform the most unfortunately-timed call-outs in the history of sentient life.

The silence stretched between them.

I guess she wants me to take the lead on this one. Interesting.

"Unless Liara saw something wildly different than I did, I don't think there's much new to discover there," Shepard said mildly. "While I can't say that I enjoyed the repeat performance, it's pretty obvious that the beacon message is incomplete. Liara? Your thoughts?"

Liara pursed her lips and glanced away. "On that... yes, I concur," she said after a moment. "Large parts of the vision, for lack of a better term, are missing. The data transferred into the commander's mind are incomplete."

Kaidan scowled. "But Saren must have more of it, because he's not running around blind."

"Maybe he found another beacon? I mean, if the doc is right, and these things were all over the galaxy..." Ash trailed off. "Maybe he's collecting them and, I don't know, putting them together somehow?"

"Could be," Kaidan shrugged. "It's not like he doesn't have room for them on that ship of his."

"His ship!" Liara exclaimed. "Goddess, that's not a geth ship at all," she whispered, whirling at Shepard. "You knew!"

Shepard nodded slowly.

"Knew what, Shepard?" Kaidan asked.

Well, at least they'll believe me now. "Saren's ship, the one we saw at Eden Prime? It's not a geth vessel."

"Not a- what? If it's not geth, who made it? I don't care how sneaky you are, you don't hide a construction project that big," Kaidan said.

"Given the beacon message... Liara and I are fairly sure the ship he's flying once belonged to the reapers, whatever they were. One of the few images in the beacon's message are of a vessel matching that design slaughtering what I assume are protheans."

"If the reapers are the ones responsible for the galactic extinction every fifty thousand years like Liara claims... and if Saren's looking to bring about the 'return of the reapers,' like Benezia said..." Kaidan trailed off.

"Well, shit," Wrex grumbled, and the crew nodded.

"Any more fun surprises for us, Shepard?" Ash asked dryly, and Liara laughed.

Ash tipped her head at the asari. "Something funny, doc?" she asked.

Liara caught herself and shook her head. "Ah... it is not for me to say," she demurred, then wobbled slightly on her feet. "Uh- whoa..."

Chakwas reached out an arm to steady her. "Are you feeling all right, Doctor T'Soni?" she asked, brows furrowed in concern.

Liara waved her off. "I am... drained," Liara said, smiling humorlessly. "I think I will lie down before dinner."

"I think Tali's got you beat on that one," Ash said, jerking her head toward the curled-up quarian who hadn't moved in some time.

"A sound plan, and I think I'll double down on it," Shepard said. "We're not going straight to Noveria. I have a list of some small assignments the brass wants me to take a look at, and a fair bit of business to attend to on the Citadel, so we're going to be making our way back there for some brief R&R before we head there."

She held up her hands to forestall the inevitable protest. "I know you can push on if need be, and the time may come where it's necessary, but the situation is stable at the moment, and I'd rather go into the next mission well-rested and clear-headed, so we'll have a couple days on the Citadel before we set out again."

"Any questions? No? Good. Crew dismissed."

---

The crew was just finishing filing out of the room when Joker's voice piped up in the mostly-deserted communications chamber. "I'm about to send off the Feros report, commander. You want me to patch you through to the council when it's out?"

Shepard glanced up at the speaker in the corner. "Not right now, Joker, I'm not really up to dealing with them at the moment. If they ask, tell them that we're all exhausted and I'll give them a full debrief tomorrow."

He laughed. "Wish that excuse worked on my superiors."

She smiled. "Joker, I'm your superior, and you've never tried it."

"Maybe I should, then," he said. "I'll add a note to the report about it."

"Thanks, Joker. Hey, if you see whoever is on KP, tell them to make extra servings tonight."

"Don't think they're likely to wander through the cockpit, but I'll pass the word on."

"Much obliged."

The speaker turned off with an audible click, and Shepard sighed into the now-empty room.

Alone, now, she could finally reflect on everything that had gone wrong, everything that had gone right, and the things that had come completely out of left field.

She hadn't lied to the crew; the mission really had gone better than she'd expected it to. Her big concern at the start of the mission had been how she was going to reconcile her crew's expectations of her with her order to nuke the whole colony, rather than merely making sure her new ground crew members made their peace with the civilian casualties that had come about as a result of their fight.

And true, they hadn't gotten exactly what they wanted from Saren... but they'd learned a little bit more about his plans, she'd received a host of valuable information (even if that information was taking a while to settle into her mind), and they'd done the honest good deed of saving a whole bunch of lives.

There was something... tidy... about finishing a mission that way. There were a couple loose ends, to be sure – the board of directors of ExoGeni would be receiving a very polite but very clear message from her in the morning, the Council would want an explanation, and Shiala was still on Feros – but all in all, she doubted that anyone would seriously question her calls or the results.

Come to think of it, there really haven't been any missions I've done for the Council so far that reek of "black ops wet work."

She was sure they'd come up eventually, given her capabilities and comfort with such things, but for now, it was pleasant to just do what people liked and not have to worry about hiding it.

Then, of course, there was the elephant in the room.

She smiled, savoring the fading rush that accompanied Liara's journey through her head. She knew that if she managed to talk the asari into a repeat performance, it wouldn't carry the same impact... but that was acceptable.

It was a joy to simply understand what it was that other people talked about. To know, truly know, what someone meant when they said they were 'feeling sorry for you.' To finally get confirmation that, yes, there really were other people in the galaxy.

Intellectually, she'd known it for some time, of course, but that wasn't the same thing as experiencing it firsthand.

She allowed herself one last trip down memory lane before squaring her shoulders and setting out from the room.

She had an archaeologist to speak to.

---

"I am telling you, Doctor Chakwas, there is something very wrong with-"

Liara cut herself off and swallowed audibly when Shepard stepped into the medbay.

"I'm glad to see you're getting some rest, Liara," Shepard said, tapping the privacy mode on the door and window panels. It wouldn't stop somebody from entering in the case of an emergency – there were very few true locks aboard the Normandy – but it would tell them that the medical bay was occupied and that entry was discouraged outside of emergencies.

"Chakwas, mind giving us some space? I'd like to speak to Liara privately for a few minutes."

"Not at all," Chakwas said, standing smoothly from her desk. "I'll head over to the mess early, I think, see if they need any assistance. Oh, and Liara..."

Chakwas leaned near Liara's ear – at least, as far as asari had ears, it was really more like an auditory membrane – and murmured something quietly to her before patting her on the shoulder. "See you at dinner," she said with a smile, and stepped out the door.

Liara glanced at Chakwas' departing figure nervously, the ghost of fear in her eyes.

Shepard smiled. "You needn't worry, Liara, I'm not here to hurt you."

"That isn't- I mean, I was not-"

"Don't lie. Your eyes were darting to the door and windows; you're evaluating escape vectors. Your pupils are dilated to allow more light in. I can see the pulse in your neck, and you're almost hyperventilating. You might not be human, but asari fear responses are very similar."

Liara's eyes widened and she took a half step back, bumping against the wall with a squeak.

"But," Shepard said, putting her most reassuring smile on, "I meant what I said. I don't want to hurt you – in fact, I want to thank you."

"What is wrong with you," the asari whispered, staring at her with unblinking eyes.

"That," Shepard said, "is something of a long story. Have a seat, Doctor. Really, I'm just here to talk... and offer my thanks."

Liara didn't move. "You will forgive me if I am somewhat suspicious."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Come off it, Liara, if I really meant to hurt you, would I do it in the middle of the medical bay while the entire ground crew knows exactly where both of us are?" She shook her head. "No, if I wanted to hurt you, I'd either stage an accident – it'd be easy to justify a novice getting injured in combat – or I'd simply claim to the group that I'd discovered you were a traitor."

Liara blinked.

"I'm really just here to talk, and I really do want to offer you my gratitude. Please, will you listen?" Shepard asked, hands spread.

"I-" Liara said, taking a steadying breath. "Yes. I will listen."

"Thank you," Shepard said. "Now, when I walked in, you were trying to convince Doctor Chakwas that there was something wrong with me, yes?"

Liara swallowed and nodded.

"Well, I won't say you're wrong," she said with a wry smile. "By your standards – and those of most of the galaxy, I suppose – there is something very wrong with me. I don't really see it that way, of course."

"Of course," Liara said, shaking her head.

"But objectively, you're right," Shepard said. "About thirty years ago, when humanity was first discovering the effects that element zero had on the human body, they realized that exposure to dust-form element zero could – in some cases – cause the development of biotic abilities."

"Now, dust form element zero is essentially nonexistent on Earth. The only element zero there is imported, so the only exposure came from processing and refining accidents. With the military applications of biotics obvious, the leadership of the Systems Alliance wanted more people exposed."

"Such stories are sadly common, I'm afraid," Liara said with a sigh.

"This one gets better. Now, asking people and conducting controlled experiments would take too long and be too narrow in scope given the risks. So they took another approach."

Liara's face scrunched up in disgust. "They performed experiments in secret, or without consent?"

Shepard grinned. "In a way. They planted bombs aboard several surface-to-surface shuttles and blew them up over large population centers. Boom, anyone downwind of the explosion was exposed. There were bound to be some pregnant women in the fallout, and their children stood a chance at developing biotic abilities."

Liara covered her mouth in horror.

"I'm probably the child of one of those people affected, but not in the typical way. You see, unlike most biotics, I don't have a nice smooth pile of element zero deposited around my nervous system. I mean, I have that, too, but there's also a large chunk stuck in my brain. It's not painful, and it doesn't really bother me, but since my gray matter grew around it, it's displaced what would have been there."

She sighed. "The upside of it all is that I'm a more powerful natural biotic than most humans, and my abilities come to me almost as naturally as yours come to you. The downside, of course, is that I'm missing a piece of my brain."

Liara's eyes widened. "That's why you're- I mean-"

Shepard nodded. "Me, yes. I'm not an unfeeling automaton, but it's nearly impossible for me to associate strong emotional states with memories, my emotions tend to come and go quickly, and I don't empathize well at all. Which is why I wanted to thank you."

"I don't understand," Liara said.

"Let me put it differently," she said. "I understand people here-" she tapped her temple, "-but not here," she said, thumping her sternum. "Even that metaphor is a trick, something I picked up years ago to help describe my life to somebody else."

Shepard took a quick step forward and grabbed Liara's hands in hers. "When somebody dear to you dies, everyone says that they feel 'heartbreak.' Me, I feel... disappointment, but nothing more. When a mission is a wild success, beyond anything expected, I feel satisfaction and pride, but giddy elation? I have nothing to compare that to."

She let Liara hands drop and spun around in a circle. "When you looked through my mind, I got a front seat view of what it is like to really feel. Do you have any idea what that is like? To live your entire life knowing nothing more than a sense of intellectual appreciation? Imagine being blind for your entire existence, having everyone explain to you what it is like to see, what color is... and then for somebody to grant you the gift of sight, if only for a moment."

Shepard was sure that if she were like everyone else, she would be crying now. It seemed the appropriate thing for a moment of the gravity that she felt.

She was not normal.

No tears came.

"That is what I owe you thanks for, Liara. For proving to me that there are other entities in the universe. For showing me what people talk about when they feel pity, or furious anger, or crippling terror. I may not know those things myself... but now, at least, I can understand them."

She turned again to face the asari, who was still backed against the window, her face twisted in an expression halfway between pity and horror.

She sighed.

"I suppose this is where I request that you not spread all of this around in public," Shepard said. "I can't really stop you if you want to, but it would be a huge pain in the butt for me to deal with on top of this Saren mess, and dealing with him is taking a fair bit of my attention at present."

"Not that I want you to, but... I am reasonably confident that you could stop me," Liara said.

"Attempting to would pretty much guarantee I'd lose the honest input from my favorite conversation partner on board the Normandy, one way or another," Shepard said with a wry smile. "Besides, you're no fool. You know that I'm probably one of the only people with both the ability and the desire to stop Saren and find Benezia. Making my task harder shouldn't be a goal for you."

"You're right, but- wait..." Liara said hesitantly. "You enjoyed talking with me?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes? Chakwas is a brilliant physician, but medicine isn't my area of interest. People are fascinating to me, as is history – and archaeology is the combination of the two. I wouldn't be seeking you out in my spare time to talk to you if I despised your company!" she laughed.

"I... I thought that you were just humoring me," Liara stammered. "Feigning interest to... to get me to like- to want to help," she finished quickly.

Shepard frowned. "No. Well, not precisely. I will readily admit to guarding my tongue around you more than I do with the rest of the crew, owing to your different background, but my interest in and enjoyment of our talks is genuine. Your research is important and your opinions are valuable – I would be a fool not to avail myself of both whenever possible."

Liara blushed and stared at the floor.

"Is that really so hard to believe?" Shepard asked.

Liara looked up, a tinge of purple darkening her blue cheeks. "You know my work has not been... well received... among the more accepted academics," she said. "I rarely have a chance to discuss much of anything with anybody where that does not taint the discussion in some way."

Shepard shook her head. "Then they are bigger idiots than I thought," she grumbled, and Liara covered a smile. "Alright. I know this is all probably quite a bit of a shock, given your reactions here and the ones I felt in the meld. Since brutal honesty has worked well enough so far, I'll just lay out my ideal scenario and let you make your choice on the matter."

Liara frowned, then shrugged and nodded.

"Okay. While I'd love to be relaxing in a library somewhere, that dream is sadly denied to me while we're dealing with the looming threat of Saren and his crusade to bring back the reapers. Since I'm probably the one best suited to stop him at the moment, and failing means he potentially wipes out everything interesting in the galaxy, I'm inclined to try to stop him. Does my logic hold up so far?"

Liara nodded.

"Good. Now, I've spent my whole life hiding who and what I really am from the general public for a whole host of very solid reasons. Some of those reasons no longer apply, however, and I'd very much appreciate the opportunity to... take off the mask, so to speak. In my eyes, you're the most interesting person to talk to within several light years, so unless you're opposed, I'd very much appreciate continuing our discussions."

She sighed. "That said, let me make something abundantly clear: You are under absolutely no compulsion to do so, and while I will be disappointed if you decline, that is something I will need to deal with on my own. The same applies to your continued presence aboard the Normandy – if you decide you wish to leave, you are free to do so."

Liara swallowed. "Why? It is your vessel and your command, you could easily-"

"Force you?" Shepard finished, and Liara nodded. "In the short term, perhaps I could. Long term? I would be turning an intelligent and capable biotic into an enemy – which is something I do my best to avoid on general survival principles – as well as depriving myself of your support and advice in what is turning out to be a rather difficult endeavor."

"Not to mention," she added while Liara thought it over, "that if I forced you into talking to me, I would be far more likely to hear what you thought I wanted to hear, rather than what you actually think. I know that if I were forced into a situation where I had to discuss things with somebody I feared, I would say what I thought they would like, rather than what might potentially make them upset."

She spread her hands, palms up. "Make sense?"

Liara nodded. "Do I need to choose now?"

"Hardly," Shepard laughed and began heading for the door, which hissed open at her approach. "Take some time. Think it over. We'll be on the citadel for a few days, so there's no rush. In the meantime, I'm going to go take some painkillers for this headache and get some rest. I'll see you at dinner."

And with that, she stepped out the door.

---

A/N: And that's that!

Next chapter: Liara's "omgwtfbbq" reaction, dinner, a rough night all around, and some awkward comm calls to ExoGeni executives. After that, we're doing a couple short sidequests and then it's off to Noveria, where we will be setting warm(?) and fuzzy(?) feelings(?!) next to bitterly cold icy blizzards. Everybody loves a contrast!

Until next time,

- Hamhammer