Requiem of the Goddess

by Yoshiyuki Ly

Goddess of mind, goddess of heart - closed-off without consent, She cannot flourish; unlocked to the universe in trust and control, She protects from all outside influences. Only one sits atop the throne of Shepard's subjectivity. Ashley/FemShep, Liara/FemShep. Miranda/FemShep, Aria/FemShep. Power plays, intense loves. Renegon Infiltrator FemShep. Spans the Mass Effect Trilogy.

7. Nearer Stars to Sunlight

"Song of the Ancients (Devola)" from NieR Gestalt & Replicant / "As They Enter" from Mass Effect 2: Lair of the Shadow Broker

VII. Nearer Stars to Sunlight

(Liara)

Returning to the ship with the team, Shepard did not immediately tell Joker to set a course for Noveria.

Instead, she joined us all in the med bay, having helped Wrex limp his way here through his injuries. Tali and Ashley supported Garrus, who was also in bad shape after fighting so hard to protect us. I used my biotics to lift and hover Kaidan's still-unconscious form alongside me. Thankfully, the geth had fled from Feros as soon as the Thorian had fallen, and so we'd had no need to fight through more of them on the way back to the Normandy.

Already waiting for us in the medical bay, Dr. Chakwas directed us to set Garrus, Wrex, and Kaidan over their beds. She then did what she could to tend to their immediate needs, assessing the severity of their respective conditions. Even in her trained calm, I was able to sense her confidence that our team members would be all right, and that they would recover soon enough.

Shepard waited with me near the entrance, along with Tali and Ashley.

We stayed here in silence for the twenty-or-so minutes it took for Dr. Chakwas to let us know:

"They will make a full recovery," she informed us, patching up a gash over Wrex's hump with medi-gel. "It's clear that Garrus and Wrex overexerted themselves in battle. The exhaustion's ailing them more than anything. Thank goodness they weren't in an actual gun fight. I may be telling you a different story in that case. All they need now is plenty of time to rest."

Dr. Chakwas then went over to Kaidan, scanning for his diagnostics with her omni-tool.

"As for Lieutenant Alenko, his vitals are returning to normal. Though I'm concerned about his mental state. Not that I believe any direct leftovers of that Thorian will cause any issues. It's the aftereffects I'm worried about. He won't be able to forget what happened. It may take a toll on him."

Tali reasoned, "But, it wasn't his fault. He was clearly under the influence of that thing! I forgive him for shooting at me. I would never hold it against him. Won't it help if I tell him that once he wakes up?"

"It will, Tali," counseled Dr. Chakwas. "Yet I know the lieutenant. He won't be able to forgive himself."

Tali accepted the assessment with a heavy heart.

Ashley turned away, furtive, with something clearly on her mind.

Shepard remained direct, "Dr. Chakwas, keep me updated on his progress. Depending on how bad it is—if he's not fit for duty, I may have to take official action with the Alliance. I'll accept full responsibility for putting him in harm's way like that."

"That is noble of you, Commander," remarked Dr. Chakwas. "However, there was no way you could have known what awaited on that colony. This isn't your fault, either. In any case, I will need you to help me monitor his progress. How Lieutenant Alenko behaves here on the Normandy will be entirely different than how he performs out on the field. Please keep a close eye on him as well."

"Understood."

"And Shepard, there is something else. It's about you. Although, I know how very fond you are of my medical advice, so I won't force you to have this discussion with me now. Instead, I must ask that you allow my patients to remain here with me during your next mission. You and I will speak later."

Having expected this already, Shepard replied with, "That's fine. We'll leave you to it, then. Thanks."

Dr. Chakwas smiled at us. "Thank you as well," she said. "And good luck on Noveria. I do hope that you ladies will fare better than the men have today."

Leaving the med bay, Tali, Ashley and I followed the commander to the mess hall.

None of us were particularly hungry after the mission. Still, we knew that Shepard had more to say:

"It'll just be us, then," she stated. "The four of us will take on Noveria while the guys heal up. I'll head upstairs soon to plot a course on the galaxy map. I won't have us arrive to Port Hanshan until tomorrow morning, again at 0900 hours. We could get there sooner. I'm not going to push you that hard. So before I dismiss you all, do we need to debrief? Or can we leave Feros behind and be done with it?"

By this point, everyone knew what Shepard had accomplished, taking out the Thorian all on her own.

They knew about what Shiala had told her afterward.

Though they were unclear on who it was that protected Shepard's mind, she and I knew that it was me.

Yet I sensed the commander's rigidness—her need to deny it, if only to keep herself separate from me.

Tali chose to be genuine: "Shepard, I know you won't have anything to say in response… I only want you to know how glad I am that you're okay. When we first returned to Zhu's Hope and found all of those creepers, I was terrified that you had turned into one of them. Then you took out the Thorian all by yourself. I would never doubt your skills even for a second. I guess…I couldn't help worrying about you."

Shepard did not, could not respond, tensing and flexing the muscles in her jaw.

Taking the risk anyway, Tali stepped closer to her, giving Shepard a hug; burrowing against her chest.

In her sincerity, Tali reached at something in Shepard that I couldn't have accessed on my own: this unexpected surprise, of knowing that we all cared for our commander in ways that went beyond a mere distant professionalism. Of course, I knew how Tali truly felt. Of course, I saw how she held Shepard with those feelings, budding and shy as they were, not once expecting anything in return.

That she did not expect anything was what softened Shepard's expression, even in her astonishment.

Stepping away, Tali lowered her head, staring down to the abyss of this unknown—of Shepard's possible reaction, of Shepard's possible retaliation—while pulling at her hands in anxiety.

Tempering that unknown, Ashley held Shepard with one arm, side-by-side; resting her head over the commander's stiffened shoulder. "Same here, Skipper," she murmured. "I managed to push through my fears. We had to find you—simple as that. I had to find you. Thinking back on it now, I probably would've pushed the team way harder if that's what it took to get you back. Sounds selfish…" Even with us here, she found the courage to weave her truth through a curious riddle: "What I confided in you about—I'm pretty sure you know what the next step is. The next thing. The only, obvious thing, with you. You don't have to keep wondering about it. It's true. After what happened…I wanted you to know."

Ashley then moved away, too unwilling to watch her cryptic clues join together through Shepard's eyes.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything, to make a gesture.

She already knew—just as everyone else knew, having torn my barriers well down, all the way down.

Shepard turned around; turned her back to us.

She folded her arms in an iron-tight grip, preventing her own sentimentality from spilling out.

She stayed silent for the longest.

Thinking.

Hours and hours could have passed; days, weeks or more; and we would've stayed here for her, waiting.

Shepard knew this, and hardened her order: "Dismissed."

Knowing that her gesture went unnoticed, Ashley saluted the commander anyway. She then left to the crew's quarters. A little fraught, a little caught up in something of her own—she quickened her steps, not wanting to give herself away to us.

Uncertain, Tali looked to me first. I knew what she wished to do, and so I nodded to her in encouragement. She then hurried after Ashley, not knowing what to expect. Needing to help anyway.

Not confident enough to take the same risks, I looked to Shepard one last time before leaving to my room. Passing through the med bay, Dr. Chakwas afforded me a smile. She continued monitoring Garrus, Wrex, and Kaidan as the three of them slept on. I couldn't find the strength to return her kindness. I found that she didn't blame me, merely assuming that I was also exhausted from the mission.

Physically, I was not, somehow.

Mentally, no—I still felt a lingering high from my biotics, primed for me to push them even further.

But, emotionally…

Locking my door behind me, I leaned against the nearest wall.

Sliding to the floor of my room, I allowed the true blue of this space's hue to envelop me. To embrace me as I wished Shepard could have. I knew she was far too proud to do anything more with me. At least at this point. And this was exactly what I'd feared: that we would reach some type of juncture like this, where Shepard would prefer to keep to herself, to keep her space, to keep her individuality.

Rather than engage with me, rather than trust in me, she wished to preserve her place in the sky above.

After all, my hold over her mind was one of childish anxiety, of sickening desperation.

That was certainly me…and Shepard probably hated that now.

After the mess my mother Benezia had made of my own mind, and of my heart, I knew that it was foolish of me to rely on Shepard to this extreme. I had to deal with my problems on my own.

But I had my confirmation—if Shepard was not willing to be in this place with me, then she and I had no business being in a relationship with one another. I had sensed this lack in her—or rather, this hesitation, her avoidance—and so I had set this boundary, to protect myself, partly for this exact reason.

I had prevented the worst, of Shepard breaking my heart with her solitary nature, but still…

This downpour, this streaming from my eyes brought me no comfort, alone.

How I wished I had been mistaken about this.

Wiping my face, my heart picked up over the sudden alert from my omni-tool. Just as quickly as my surprise had arrived, I moderated myself, reasoning with myself: this was probably only a notification from the chat room. The chat room…that only Tali, Ashley, and Joker were awake enough to use at the moment, and with so little to discuss at a time like this…

From: Shepard – My cabin.

Liara,

I'm about to call the Council now to debrief them on what happened down on Feros. I expect they'll talk my ear off for a while. They made me stay on the line with them for almost an hour last time. The only reason I have this much patience with them is because they made me a Spectre in the first place.

In the meantime, I want you to head up to my quarters. It's pretty clear we shouldn't bother staying in your room anymore. You have official clearance and my personal permission to enter my cabin whenever you want. Bring enough of your things to spend the night, or more if you'd like, and put them in my holo-closet. Take a shower in my bathroom. If I'm still not back by the time you're done, you're free to use my private terminal to get some work done. I shouldn't be that long, though.

Maybe you're surprised that I'm sending this. Let's just say I surprised myself, too.

Let me know if I'll get to see you later once I'm done here in the comm room.

-Shepard

.

To: Shepard – Re: My cabin.

Shepard,

I almost don't know what to say. I fully expected you to let all of this pass us by.

This is part of why I set these boundaries in place between us. I wanted to protect my heart from what I believed was inevitable. That is, your need to maintain your distance from me at times like this. When it seemed as if you would leave things the way they were, I admit, I cried over you anyway. I suppose I can't help myself when it comes to you.

I'm very grateful for what you chose to do instead. Thank you—so much.

I will bring what I can and leave to your room now. Please don't feel the need to rush your call to the Council for me. I get the sense that you need some extra time to process all that's happened.

I look forward to seeing you later.

-Liara

---

Clutching my clothes close to my chest, I made this first step of arriving to the main elevator.

Selecting the topmost level—the captain's cabin—the elevator accepted my credentials. This raising motion made me smile to myself during the short ride. I never would have imagined having this permission from Shepard, and certainly not after what we had just gone through…not this soon.

I was all too happy to move forward with her, together.

Once I reached the appropriate level, I found the short distance to cross from the elevator to her door.

Locked to all else, the Normandy's automated systems allowed me to enter.

Stepping into the comparatively open space of Shepard's quarters, I felt my breath catch in my chest from this novelty. The stern spotlessness here welcomed me, reminding me so of Shepard herself.

Almost overwhelming me, in a good way, I smelled Shepard's soft, smart, and smooth scent, all over her room. This blue caught me as well, everywhere, more so than anywhere else on the ship—the plain walls, the glow of the fishless aquarium along the left wall, and the overall ambiance belonging to an Alliance officer. Military-clean: I took note of the meticulous way that Shepard kept her desk organized, with even the multiple monitors of her terminal arranged at perfect, parallel angles over the surface.

Down the handful of steps and off to the right side, the square angles of her leather couch acted as an extra perimeter to the low table nearby. Across from the couch, and above the aquarium, Shepard had a massive television screen that likely connected to the wireless keyboard and mouse on the table for her video games—organized, once more. And in a corner next to the leather, I spotted a mini-refrigerator glowing an ice blue, neon color, embellished so by the aquarium lighting up the entire room.

Along the far wall was her bed: blue, white, and gray. Alliance-standard.

Perfectly-made, with not a pillow or even a single piece of fabric out of place.

Enough space for the both of us; enough space for her alone, tossing and turning to her thoughts of me.

Short of breath now, I ambled over to her holo-closet next to her bed, next to her aquarium. She had edited the user settings, separating access between hers and mine, by name. I smiled as I selected the profile she had made for me, and set in the clothes I had brought. Out of curiosity, I wanted to check hers, to see what other types of clothes she might have had. I wanted to… I decided otherwise, for now.

Instead, I returned to the area near the door, and entered the bathroom. Simple, straightforward, and without as much room to move around, this area was clearly only meant for one person. Still, I enjoyed how solitary this room felt, even with the sterile silvers of these surfaces. This shower wasn't much larger than the communal ones for the crew, but the door and the walls did cover me completely.

Sighing under the gentle, warm stream of the shower water, I enjoyed how alone I felt here.

Thinking on it now, I couldn't sense that Shepard had even returned to her room, not since we'd arrived back from the last mission. She'd had no need to come back and clean up before I arrived. This was simply how she lived, how she maintained her quarters by habit. And now, I grew to love this about her.

I looked over the handful of body and hair products that Shepard kept organized over the shelves in here. Mostly body products for human men—dark bottles with straightforward fonts. Her hair care collection was more varied, with semi-transparent bottles filled with thick mousse, or herbal shampoos and conditioners. These were all foreign to me. But I appreciated learning about this part of her routine.

Her black bottle of body scrub caught my eye.

Aromatherapy—black chamomile.

The moment I opened the top and smelled the scent, I knew this was her.

I chanced using it for myself, enjoying how gentle and soothing this felt over my skin. It certainly helped to clean the stress off of my body, leaving most of the day's events behind me. The aroma itself did relax me as well, lulling me into calmer thoughts.

Behind me, I sensed Shepard's presence, already.

She merely stood there for the longest.

Watching me through the opaque glass, misted from the heat of the water.

I couldn't dare to turn around and look at her. For the time being, she seemed content to observe.

I could only hold myself around my waist, thinking back to those thoughts of hers—the ones that had frightened me so. Now, I thought of them, because I felt that same intent from Shepard's aura, in the way she watched me with such an intensity, scaled high up in pointed subtlety from her typical levels.

I remembered the way Shepard fantasized about taking me. Usually from behind, with me bent over in front of her, and usually while she wore a strap-on. Realistic, and one where she could feel everything, though 'without the mess.' And I did want that from her, yet I had caught on to some of her history here: how she was scarred by some of the heterosexual women who had lusted after her in the past, and had stipulated that Shepard could only have sex with them if she wore one of these strap-ons.

I couldn't know how many of these women she had taken or rejected. But the experience had created a fascination in her, a frustration that she learned to accept, to twist to her advantage; turning it into an envy that I had no context about, and no point of comparison for, as this was all so human.

She associated power in sex with that added toy—but to her, it was more than a mere object.

She linked her prowess in bed with her ability to please a woman with this particular sex toy.

She sometimes felt incomplete without it, as traumatized as she was from women viewing her as a sex object—to please them—where the absence of a strap-on meant that she was absent, for all they cared.

Just under the sounds of the running shower water, I heard her taking off her clothes:

Folding them, setting them aside;

Untying the tail of her hair from the very center-back of her head, lushness falling down her shoulders.

Shepard opened the shower door, stepping inside with me, and closing it back, locking this heat in. She pressed herself behind me, the length of her hair curving right over the perfect swell of her breasts. In this small denial, she gave me something else to hold on to, in holding me around my waist the way she did—assertive in her confidence, knowing that this was entirely new for me, skin-against-skin like this.

As the shower drenched her hair down my back, Shepard tilted her head down to my neck.

Inhaling me, her breaths heating over this sensitive part of me, she soaked me even more.

And that hard whisper of hers, "You smell like me."

I trembled in her strong hold; I needed her closer.

But if I gave into her now, I might have let this moment pass me by.

"Shepard… You know how much I want you right now. Still, we should talk…about what happened."

She had prepared for this: "Liara, listen… There isn't much to talk about. Not without solid answers. I don't want us running around in circles over this. I hate speculating; I hate jumping to conclusions when I don't have all the facts. So can't this wait?"

I turned around in her hold, gazing up at her in worry.

Shepard continued to hold me with her convictions—softness of her lissome hands adoring my waist, coveting the slope of my lower back up to my shoulder blades—yet this look in her eyes was different.

In this hazy dark of her bathroom, only the silver from the walls gave off any light in here. Like the dim lighting on a gloomy, cloudy day, Shepard's eyes had caught that overcast as her own coldness. But even in this grayscale of hers, I saw the collection of rain building deep within those storm clouds, far past the spraying cascade around us: hidden, and filling wide, and brimming with a growing…love for me.

Love, as it may have been, because she chose to make this sacrifice for me. Shepard brought me to her room and pulled me closer to her, when she'd had every habit and every excuse to push me away.

Love, and much more beyond any resentment, because she chose to place my feelings above her pride.

The moment she spotted the quickening rise and fall of my chest, Shepard settled away that learned coldness of hers. She pulled me closer to her, even closer, embracing me in her adoration—as much as she had coveted me with her touch alone mere seconds ago.

"I'll tell you what I do know," she whispered. "Obviously, it's you. It can only be you. After dealing with that Thorian, I know what it's like to feel a forced thrall. To have something unnatural like that trying to get into my head. With you, it's nothing like that. Maybe Shiala shouldn't have said that I'm 'indoctrinated' by you. That brings up the wrong kinds of connotations. Like it's against my will."

"Then what should she have said…?"

"I don't know, Liara… I don't know. I'm only under your control in as much as I naturally want to please you. This is who I am. And this isn't some weird spell, or a love potion, or whatever Sovereign does to control Saren or other people. It's just…how I feel about you. How much power you have over me in…"

She stopped herself, yet I understood.

She must have felt that it was far too soon to voice this.

And, yes, I supposed it was…but I still wanted her to say the words to me.

Shepard no doubt felt this want from me, as more than the potion she had mentioned. Her heart was about to beat out of her chest against me; she let me go. Breathing out, hard, she reached for her conditioner only, and poured some of it into her hand. Lathering her hair with the white substance, it thinned and soaped, streaking down thickest along the blonde highlights of her brown hair. She then rinsed it all out within minutes, knowing that I watched her all the while, learning more of her.

This switch, of her mental dominance over me to my emotional power over her—once again, it fascinated me to no end the way Shepard expressed such a stiff shyness, as if suddenly inexperienced.

Then again, she had mentioned that this dynamic was new for her. Inexperienced, indeed, in a way.

Once she finished taking care of her hair, Shepard told me, "I'm heading back out now. I know you're not that hungry. I'm not, either. I'll have—something for us, anyway, when you're done." Whatever this something was, it lightened her lips over mine as she kissed me. Stronger than this morning, this fluttering in my chest grew, with her lightness as a mere illusion. "…I'll see you in a bit."

I smiled at her.

Shepard bit down on her own smile in an endearing awkwardness, not quite forcing a scowl.

She then left the shower. Grabbing one of the towels hanging nearby, she covered her body before leaving the bathroom, the door closing behind her.

I leaned against the silver of one of the walls, enjoying the warm water for a little while longer; enjoying this everlasting memory of Shepard's presence here with me, and of how she had controlled herself, again, instead of forcing me into doing anything more with her. She showed such understanding in her restraint, in her consideration for my feelings, surprising me over and over again with her tenderness.

---

By the time I dressed myself in a simple T-shirt and fitting pants, the only thing I dreaded was actually leaving the bathroom. That brief, equalizing moment when leaving the heat of the mist to the relative chill of the next room, I couldn't stand. Depending on my mood, it felt like a sudden snap freeze. I didn't like the cold very much at all. So I prepared myself for that discomfort as I left through the door.

Shepard had turned up the temperature in her quarters, but I would always be far too sensitive to this.

As soon as I felt this expected freeze, I found Shepard walking up the few steps toward me. She wore a sleeveless, white tank top, and black shorts that ended right below her knee, both fitting her in a slender boyishness, always with that duality of hers. In that same duality, she had a serious look on her face by habit, and yet she surprised me with the indigo blanket she held in her lean arms.

"Here," offered Shepard, wrapping me with the soft cloth of the blanket. "I hate it, too. I remembered when I left the shower before you." Cocooned in her hold and in this softness, I smiled wide against her shoulder. I felt her jaw moving again and again along the side of my head, as she kept biting at her lower lip, controlling herself. "…you're really cute, you know. I mean, you always are. This is…more."

"Thank you, Shepard," I spoke against her bare skin that smelled of her same smooth scent, striped by the white of her top. "You are very caring, and extremely sweet—when you want to be, that is."

Her deepened voice thrummed through her chest. "Hmm, don't let anyone else hear you say that."

I laughed. "Why? Would it ruin your reputation?"

"You're already turning me into some virtuous person I never thought I was. I wish you'd let me keep at least some of my usual personality."

Shepard contradicted her apparent wishes, in the best of ways, when she brought me to sit on the couch with her. She had opened a bottle of that wine she'd mentioned before—the white wine from Earth, though I couldn't pronounce the name the way that she had. Washed and glinting with lingering water like morning dew, she had settled a variety of freshly-cut fruits into a bowl, sugared and sweet.

Her large television screen was on across from us, set to what I assumed was her very old, non-virtual reality video game. On the screen, I could see an Alliance blue background, a drell character on the left side, rows of text options, along with an image of our galaxy separated into its official sections.

I did like the calming, atmospheric synth music that played as she idled here in this menu.

By the time she had me sit down along the edged corner of her couch, I realized that I couldn't stop smiling over everything, cradled as I was here in her blanket.

Shepard raised her brow at me, amused as she wondered, "What's with you?"

I giggled again. "Shepard, did I not say how sweet you are? You've surprised me once more."

"When I want to be, yeah," she echoed, holding up an empty wine glass. "You want to try some?"

"Yes, I'd love to," I accepted. Watching as Shepard poured the wine into the glass with a subtle elegance about her, I wished to know: "You mentioned that the wine is from Earth. What did you say the name was? It sounded like it was in one of your homeworld's other languages."

"Sauvignon Blanc," she repeated with ease. "It basically means white wine that comes from this specific grape." She handed me the glass, grinning as I sipped the white-gold alcohol in tentativeness. "The language is French. I know enough of it to get by without translation programs. Interestingly enough, Normandy is a region in France. It's the site of a famous operation from our long war history. Didn't happen in the same region that the wine is from, but still." Pouring a glass for herself, she asked me, "Do you like it?"

"Mmm, it's quite pleasant," I noticed, savoring the taste, as well as her penchant for fascinating trivia about her homeworld. "It is not as strong as I thought it might be. The level of alcohol is…relaxing."

"Depending on your tolerances, it'll creep up on you. White wine usually makes me sleepy. I'm okay with this one, though. Moscato works for me, too."

Finding that this flavor had grown on me quickly, I asked her, "Do you not enjoy red wine?"

Shepard made a face. "Too bitter."

"You prefer sweet to bitter, then?"

Shepard procured a sliced strawberry from the bowl. "Yeah, I do," she said in a low rasp, offering the fruit to me. "I'm not really a typical girl about these things. Hard to pin me down." I let her feed me, enjoying this added taste and sweetness; enjoying even more the way her fingers bent and fanned out in that same, quiet elegance of hers, of such tranquil femininity. "But, about this topic of girls, women—it feels like there's an elephant in the room. Or an elcor, I guess, if you have no idea what I just said."

Pleased by her consideration, I told her, "I am familiar with this human saying of yours, Shepard. And I have to agree, yes. Tell me what you're thinking."

She sipped some of her wine, studying me first.

When she found no expectations in my eyes, Shepard let me know, "I get that you have a broad understanding of my history. I like that I don't have to go over it with you. It's funny, though—before I met you, I had sworn off getting involved with anyone else. Lasted a good few years where all I did was focus on work, or my video games. Then everything changed."

"Would you say that this is a positive change?"

"Most of it is positive. I'm still adjusting to the rest."

Curious, I asked, "What are the positives, then?"

Shepard fed me again. "I keep surprising myself, like I said in my email," she recalled, watching me lick my lips as I chewed, slowly. "When I was younger, relationships seemed like they were all about keeping score. Who was right, who was wrong. Whose fault it was. Who was she; she said, she said. So I'd keep my pride to avoid how shallow everything felt. I wanted to avoid the reality that that was all I could hope to have with someone—that shallowness. You're the exact opposite of that. You actually want me to get deeper with you. Whenever I tried with other people, I ended up destroying them."

"I feel the same way," I admitted. "At least, from what I observed in other relationships around me, they seemed to be absorbed with those surface-level concerns. This is why you are my first, Shepard. I chose to avoid everyone before I met you. Even if it meant suffering their predictable gossip about me."

"What gossip?" she asked, scowling in anger for me.

I frowned over the memory. "In my sophomore year of university, one of my classmates asked me honestly if I was asexual. She and her friends had convinced themselves that I must have been, since I kept to myself so much and never attended social events. They could not fathom the idea that I was just not interested in the same things that they were."

"Seriously? Even if you were asexual, who cares? It's none of their business! That's fucked up."

"I grew used to it over time," I said, glad that she cared this much. "I suppose this is why I became so obsessed with my research. The data never judged me."

Shepard wished to know, "What about with our team? Aside from you-know-who, how are you getting along with everyone?"

"The current crew on the ship have all been very kind to me. And I have found unexpected friends in our teammates. I am closest with Tali. Garrus enjoys teasing me in good fun. Wrex was not necessarily a friend before, but a conversation we had during today's mission changed that. During downtime, Kaidan is rather distant toward me for reasons I am unclear on. You-know-who is obvious."

"And Joker?"

"Joker is…Joker."

Shepard laughed. "Yeah, I guess he is," she agreed. "As long as he's not acting like an ass."

"Never that, Shepard. I believe he respects me more because you do. In a way, I do consider Joker as a friend. It is only difficult to tell when he is being serious and when he is not. He is also prone to arrogance from time to time. Though I suppose that is simply part of who he is."

"He's got a chip on his shoulder because of his brittle bone disease. I've always seen it as his coping mechanism. Joker's the best of the best at what he does, so I have no reason to complain about whatever else. Besides, he has a lot to prove out here, much like a certain someone."

That elephant in the room. "Ashley, yes."

For some reason, Shepard gave me a charming smirk. "There's that edge in your voice again."

Edged harder: "You find this amusing?"

"Not…amusing," she tried to amend. "What can I say? I like it when you don't hold back."

"Shepard, I don't like this part of me. Does it not remind you of the shallowness we once avoided?"

"It doesn't, no. It's…different. You're not unloading your jealousy over me like it's the end-all-be-all. I get the feeling you're trying to understand all of this. Even if you do hate it. So, ask me whatever you want."

I did want to understand.

And I had many questions.

I only feared that Shepard would grow less tolerant of me once I began voicing these problems of mine.

So I suggested, "Would it be possible for us to continue this while you play your game? I would like to watch you."

"Yeah…we can," said Shepard, baffled. "But, why? You don't want my full attention?"

"Not necessarily…"

"I mean, I can play this game with my eyes closed. I'm not gonna be all that distracted. You sure?"

I nodded to her.

Not wishing to push the issue, Shepard settled her lips over my forehead, comforting me, before turning her attention to her game. She was about to explain what everything was, until she looked over at her keyboard and mouse atop the table. Deciding that she didn't feel like using those tonight, she retrieved her wireless controller from a drawer next to her mini-refrigerator, and returned to the couch. In between reconfiguring her preferred inputs and restarting the game, she looked to me.

I sat closer to her, right next to her and against her side, still covered by the blanket.

"I think you'll want more of this," noted Shepard, pouring more wine into my glass. "And the fruit. You can have as much as you want." She set the bowl next to me, on my other side, opposite her. Controller in-hand, she then explained, "As I'm sure you noticed by now, this is a retro game. Old school, non-VR. I like it a lot, though. It's pretty much our galaxy today. Almost two hundred years ago, these human developers somehow predicted everything we have going on in our current year of 2183. I think that's why it's so much fun to me. Like, how did they know all of this back then? It's crazy."

I wondered, "What type of game is it?"

"It's a third-person shooter. Kind of an N7 simulator. You play on a team with up to three other people, killing waves of enemies. I'm not too hot on the limited enemy factions. We can only fight against geth, beefed-up Cerberus goons, and mock battles against the Alliance military. Gets a little repetitive."

"Do you only shoot?" I asked, watching as she cycled through several characters of many different races and specializations: drell vanguard, krogan sentinel, human engineers. "I see some biotic characters."

Shepard frowned. "I'm not that great with adepts," she told me. "Plus, they're better when you're on a pre-made team, where you can coordinate biotic explosions together. I play by myself. That means I get matched with random people. We shoot, we complete objectives, and then we win. Usually."

"Usually?"

"You'll see what I mean…"

Shepard selected a level twenty male quarian infiltrator. She confirmed that she had an N7-grade sniper rifle equipped on him, and then went to find a random match. Though I had spotted a geth infiltrator among her choice of characters! How could she play as a friendly geth when they were also an enemy faction? Was it possible for any geth to be friendly instead of hostile? How did Shepard feel about these concepts, seeing as how we had fought against several geth on our mission against Saren thus far?

I had so many questions about this, too.

She quickly found a lobby of two other players so far, with one remaining slot for someone else to join. I noticed at the top that the difficulty was set to Gold, which I presumed was quite challenging. Although perhaps not challenging for Shepard, as she had expressed how comfortable she was with this game.

During the wait, I watched as she selected equipment for her character, giving him various bonuses such as more damage for his sniper rifle. She then returned to the list of other players in the lobby. The image, or the banner she wore had designated her as a Sniper. I also saw that she had a much, much higher N7 rank than her teammates. But no one left the lobby, so I supposed they didn't mind.

I took note of her gamer profile name—Vespair.

Shepard knew that I noticed. "This is special information, by the way," she informed me. "No one knows my profile name. No one except you. It's why I play alone. If any of the crew found out who I am, I'd have to deal with their friend requests and all of that bullshit. I don't wanna be bothered."

I sympathized, "Of course, Shepard. I don't blame you. I promise to keep the information to myself."

The fourth player finally joined. Someone named Infiltrait0rN7. And they were a geth infiltrator!

Yet Shepard made no comment of it. Instead, she checked herself as ready for the match alongside her teammates. After a brief countdown, their characters all loaded into a map of an Alliance base on Vancouver, on Earth, and the fighting soon began against the Cerberus faction of enemies.

I sipped more of my wine, greatly impressed as I watched Shepard's impeccable gameplay.

As she ran around the map, cloaking and sniping, she always knew where to go. She always knew exactly where to find more enemies, able to predict where they had gone or where they would spawn next. She also used her character's ability to highlight enemy locations, more so to help her teammates see them.

She fired off seamless headshots with ease.

She did not appear to care about vantage points, sniping at medium-range; sometimes at close-range.

Despite the overwhelming amount of Cerberus enemies rushing at her and her team, she never allowed herself to be surrounded or pinned down, always staying on the move.

Without complaint, she revived her teammates during the almost comical amount of times they were knocked out over the course of the match—except for that geth infiltrator, however.

The geth held their own, assisting with revives and bolstering Shepard's flanks as needed. They were not nearly as aggressive as Shepard was with kills, appearing to be more interested in supporting her, regardless of whether she noticed or not.

"You are very skilled at this game, Shepard," I praised. "Though I am not surprised in the slightest. Still, it is enjoyable to watch you play."

"I like hearing that from you," she admitted, grinning, before firing off another headshot.

I noticed such confidence in her precision as well—"You never hesitate."

"Hesitation is defeat."

How insightful of her…

Shepard changed the topic, "So, let's have that conversation. You know, about Ashley. We can play twenty questions if you want. I have to see where this goes. Too curious for my own good, probably."

"If you're sure…"

"I am, babe. I want you to feel comfortable with me."

I smiled over her continued sweetness. "Well, then, I will start with the obvious—do you feel that she likes you in that way?"

Shepard stiffened a bit against me, still shooting. "Yeah… It's more than a feeling, though."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, I know she does. I can't get into all the details. Let's just say she's not that subtle."

"Does it bother you?" I wondered. "Knowing that she wants you. She is your subordinate, after all. And not like me. I suppose it is different, as you are both in the military. There are rules."

"Rules against fraternization. I think that's the main reason why she hasn't really tried to come onto me. Aside from all of that…it doesn't bother me that Ashley feels this way. I had suspected something for a while, though. I dismissed her as yet another one of those curious straight women who 'liked' me."

Knowing what she meant, I asked, "If you know how she feels, then why did you label her as such? Does she only have a history of dating men?"

Shepard paused, wording herself carefully—"Yes, but as I think you know, I tend to attract women who want the best of both worlds with me. I'm not sure if that's what she sees. Maybe she does."

The most painful question: "Shepard, are you attracted to her?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly… Tell me. Please."

Shepard took a moment longer to consider her words, and then she told me, "Ashley is an attractive woman to me. She's tough. She's dedicated, dependable. She's confident—in most situations. She's beautiful. I'll admit—I even like her bitchy attitude. You know I have a thing for women who are real with me, and that's part of it. And I'm sexually attracted to her. Anything more…I don't know."

Hmm… "In a different timeline, would you get to know her more? Would you have sex with her?"

"If I didn't know you, and if she and I weren't in the military together? Yeah, I would."

I tried to summarize: "So you find her sexually attractive, and yet you are unclear on anything more?"

"It's not that much of a contradiction, Liara. Or at least, I don't think so. You're attracted to women—don't you think Ashley's attractive?"

Scowling, I replied, "Not at all."

Shepard stopped herself from laughing. "Not even…in an objective sense? She's hot, isn't she?"

"No, she isn't. I strongly disagree. In fact, I am quite confused about this. Regardless of the fact that she and I are from two different species, I don't see how you find both of us attractive. She and I look nothing alike."

Shepard shrugged and smirked, admitting with a swagger about her, "Fine is fine, Liara."

"Even if what you say is true, I am still unable to see what you see in her."

"Babe, you can't tell me Ashley isn't hot!"

I believed I understood now. "If you mean that anyone else could find her attractive, then perhaps so."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," accepted Shepard. "I get that you're turned off by her. When I thought she was racist, I was turned off, too—big-time. But now…" She grumbled. "Then again, if she heard us… If anyone heard the way I'm talking about her… Ugh, they'd never let me live it down."

"Shepard, please speak freely," I requested. "No one else is listening. I want you to be open with me."

"Right… I don't want to disrespect her, that's all. Whether it's her or any other woman—I can't do that."

I wished to keep this going: "I get the sense that you have avoided pinning down your feelings for her."

Shepard confirmed, "Yeah, that sums it up. I have to keep my distance. I'm her commanding officer. But a lot's changed in the past few days. I'm starting to rethink this giant gap I keep between the two of us."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I found out for sure that Ashley likes me, I just did my best to ignore the clues she gave. The way she'd compliment me, and praise me all the time. She was a little bitchy when Tali first joined, like she was jealous. Every now and then, I'd get turned on by her voice. Or I'd spot a look in her eyes, giving away how much she wants me. I tuned it out as much as I could. It's much harder to do that now."

Listening to this description of Ashley's habits did somehow arouse me, though I didn't understand why.

I asked, "So, what changed…? What helped bring you to this point?"

Sitting in the lobby once more with those same random teammates, Shepard listened to the comfort of the game's ambient music. As absorbed as I had been in our conversation so far, I'd missed her results screen from her previous match. I had no doubt she'd placed first with her score. Although, this was a cooperative game, so I supposed the score didn't matter to her all that much.

She then revealed, "You opened me up, Liara. You made me reckon with myself. You showed me my own contradictions: how I act like a lone wolf, but I care way too much about making sure that the people around me are taken care of. Whether I wanted to or not, this spilled over to other things that I had no intentions of ever changing. You didn't open one door in me. You opened almost all of them."

"That does sound quite profound," I expressed. "Are you…angry that this has happened?"

"Not angry… I'm confused. Like, why now? I don't like caring this much. About anyone."

"But you do care, Shepard," I pointed out. "You do. You care. You are incredibly caring and protective, and not only with me. Our team knows this about you, too. If this is part of you, then why fight it?"

Shepard chose not to answer me right away.

She played another match.

Though even as she played, and played so very well, I felt her mind and her heart lingering on my question. She knew that my concerns were not rhetorical. Not in the slightest. I did want an answer. I did not want her to continue running away from her own feelings, even if Ashley was involved this way.

Her character ran and ran—cloaking, sniping—but she was not him.

Her secret support-admirer followed after her the whole time, yet she still did not notice them.

Feeling more of the effects of the alcohol, I leaned against Shepard's shoulder. I could feel every movement from her arm against mine as she pressed the buttons over her controller. A bit hazy and warm from only two glasses of her wine, I didn't want to fall asleep. I didn't want to let this momentum, this opportunity leave overnight as we slept. I needed us to keep talking about everything.

I had no idea why I was so infatuated with this topic.

Getting inside of Shepard's head in this way was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

Her psychology gripped my own. Her existential troubles tugged at my heart. Her private worries hadn't diminished her unyielding veneer I knew so much of, because I saw that as yet another part of her, too.

For as much as she tried to dismiss them, our team meant more to her than she would ever admit.

I hadn't brought up Tali. Her crush on Shepard seemed very innocent in the grand scheme of things.

This situation with Ashley mesmerized me the most, if only because it spoke to Shepard's restraint.

Shepard was here with me, getting to know me, spending time with me.

No one else.

She had chosen me, and she had decided to put up with my double-standards, all to have me to herself.

But because of my sickening desperation, I could not get Ashley out of my head. If she knew how obsessed I was over the mere thought of Shepard having her, she would have found some way to hold it against me. I was fixated, I was infatuated, and I was obsessed, all because of the obvious inevitability… The clear truth that Shepard would be attracted to others, as she already was. The plain, unchangeable knowledge that I could never have her in a vacuum, removed from the rest of the universe.

I craved that impossibility anyway—of having Shepard completely to myself—like a child chasing after the sun.

If this was how Shepard felt about her own confusions and frustrations…then I couldn't blame her.

Once she finished the match—placing first by a wide margin—she turned the game off.

Setting our empty wine glasses over the table, Shepard moved with a pensiveness I didn't recognize in her. She set the bowl over the surface as well, eating the last of the fruit there. So silent in her manners as she ate, I couldn't even hear her chew or swallow anything.

When she finished, Shepard looked me over, watching the way I watched her.

Then she said, "I'm gonna give you my current answer about this situation with her. All right?"

"I am listening, Shepard," I told her, curious as to her choice of words.

"Ashley wants an idealized version of me. The legendary Commander Shepard. And I'm sure she fantasizes about just how far I can go when ordering her around. I'm perfectly fine with letting things stay this way for now. I'd rather not interrupt her with the truth."

"That is fair," I replied. "And I will keep it in mind. I only wonder why this is your current answer."

"I don't want drama, babe. If I'm choosing to be open with you like this, can we be cool?"

"Yes, of course," I promised, holding onto her arm closest to me. "I need to know everything about you. Down to the last…intimate detail. No matter how it might make me feel. I will never hold your truths against you. I couldn't. I can't… I will instead do my best to be more accepting of her."

Shepard found her calm, accepting my promise into her heart.

"Okay, well…the reality is that I do care about Ashley as a person. She's not what I labeled her as before. I only put that label over her to protect myself, anyway. Now that I'm open like this, I'm going to start caring about her more whether I like it or not. I know that I'll be tempted by her. She's very sexy to me."

I certainly noticed, posing the rhetorical, "Then we will have to see what happens with her, won't we?"

"Some advice, Liara," she offered. "I may not know a ton of personal details about Ashley, like her younger sisters' names or what she likes to do during her spare time. Doesn't matter, though. I know her type. She's easy to read. By now, she knows that you and I are involved. So she's going to needle you, try to figure you out. She will get in your business and see what she can learn. I guarantee you."

"I appreciate your wisdom," I responded, at a loss. "But…how do you know these things for certain?"

"Trust me—she's as obsessed with you as you are with her. Now let's leave it at that."

Gentle, with such care, Shepard bundled me in her blanket again, and picked me up.

She brought me to bed with her and had us lie down together.

Protected by this smooth feeling of her comforter layered atop her sheets over us, I let myself come down one more level from this long day.

I rested my head over Shepard's chest as she lay over her back, breathing in this dark of the night with her, swelling in the water-light of her aquarium. Black chamomile exfoliating, of course I felt these stronger pulls, of wanting to do so much more now that I was here.

But Shepard's exhaustion had caught up to her sooner than mine had. And not only from the rest of the day. I understood that our conversation had drained her, emotionally. Yet she'd given me her patience when, again, she had every reason to make excuses, and to shut down my questions and curiosities.

This kept a smile on my face as I listened to her sleepy whispers to me, finally answering my question:

"It would be easier to not care about the team… If I fail, and something serious happens to any of them, it'll fuck me up. If I don't care, then I'll be safe. I'll be fine… That's why I fight my feelings so much."

Curious once more, I asked her, "Is this why you prefer to fight alone, even when we are with you?"

Shepard hummed her tired acknowledgment. "When I'm by myself, I only have to worry about…myself."

"Then why not fight harder, with us?"

"Don't wanna take that chance, babe… I'll protect you all, but it has to be from some kind of distance."

"Shepard…sometimes, like now, you make me feel that you'll run off someday. You'll run into a battle you cannot win alone. We won't be able to support you. No one will be able to help. If that were to happen, I am not sure I could handle it. I could lose you…if you keep running away from us like this."

"Liara, I'm sick of that pain of losing everything. Everything. I'd rather…not care."

"So much so that you would run from me, too? You would put me through that pain instead? Would you really leave me behind?"

Falling asleep, still, she murmured, "If I knew you'd be safe, I'd go…finish the mission… I'd come back."

That wasn't what I meant. "Shepard…"

"I know. Tired. But… I know." She inhaled, enough to sober herself just enough, her heartbeats erratic underneath my ear; breathing out these last words before this sleep took her: "I'm just…scared. As much as I'm about to fall asleep right now…I could fall into something at any minute. I need you…to keep me away from everything else. I don't want to face it… I don't."

---

Lingering in my head and all through my body, my biotic high from earlier would not let me rest.

Shepard had long-since fallen asleep.

Turning around to look at her alarm clock along the nightstand, I saw that it was four in the morning. The last time I had looked at the clock, it was 3:30am. I hadn't been able to sleep. Not after drifting off for a brief time, only to wake up at around 2:00am, somehow feeling refreshed. Refreshed in this high, I did my best to observe what this was—to truly take in this newness. I felt that I was on the precipice of a new discovery, a new understanding, and so my mind refused to let me rest properly.

Ever since Shepard had fallen asleep, I'd felt something forming in my head. A ruler, a scale, or measuring tape. Anything like this, anything similar that would allow me to measure, weigh, to quantify. Data-driven as I was, I tried my best to figure out exactly why I had these tools with nothing to use them on. Nothing, precisely, came to mind. And so this clock began to tick down.

Seeing specs of pale green through the dark of Shepard's quarters, I continued to wait, to anticipate.

The same pale green that the crew had recounted from the Prothean beacon on Eden Prime, in fact.

As fascinating as this was, however, I felt my patience growing thin. Having waited these two hours for something, anything to happen, I needed this—whatever it was—to show itself sooner rather than later.

I lay over my back with Shepard right against me. She slept on over her back as well, not having moved at all since she'd first fallen asleep hours ago. We had to be awake in four hours, at least, in order to prepare ourselves for what awaited on Noveria, with my mother. Checking the clock again—4:07am—I accepted that I would not have the chance to sleep any more myself. I hoped that I would be awake enough for the mission. I had no desire to try one of Shepard's artificial energy drinks otherwise.

Energy.

So much energy I sensed all of a sudden, so powerful, from deep within Shepard's mind…

I studied her, watching the way her eyes moved in rapid—normal—movements behind her eyelids. Dreaming, of course. Her quickened breathing piqued my curiosity more than anything. Short, sharp breaths she breathed out through her nose. Aggression, building.

Sitting up on my side, and facing her, I whispered next to her ear, "Shepard… Are you awake?" She continued to sleep. Though I felt the slenderness of her bare legs beneath her shorts: her smooth limbs tangling with mine covered by this tighter fabric. "What's the matter…? Why are you breathing so hard?" She breathed even harder, sightless hands touching me, roaming up my arms. Yet she remained perfectly asleep. Deep in sleep, making me wet with these possibilities. "Are you asleep? Are you…?"

Turning over to face me, Shepard slipped her leg between both of mine, spreading me, making room. She then settled her body on top of mine, still asleep, still asleep. This sudden sharpness of her navel against me, pushing against me—I gripped her around her back, clamping my mouth shut to stay quiet, to not wake her. I couldn't trust myself to stay silent, not like this.

Not like this, not at all, feeling myself about to lose control.

When Shepard first took me like this the other night, she had been awake—grinding in purposefulness.

Chaos in her sleep, uncaring, forceful—this time, she fucked me, so impatient and needy in the way she gripped me, too, clutching onto me like this.

I pressed my clamped mouth against Shepard's sweating neck, recoiling and bounding against her in how uncontrollable she was, and somehow so very consistent in her irrepressible physicality.

I could keep from waking her up. The tight fabric of my pants wasn't tight enough—she couldn't penetrate me with this flat of her, as I knew she dreamed of having me in such a specific way, without this tightness in the way.

Asleep as she was, she grabbed at my hips, finding this tightness.

A puzzle, a wall she rammed her head into: she grabbed and grabbed, expecting to find only my skin.

All of this, and her persistence had me whining in her ear—still trying to keep quiet, needing to know:

Shepard growled over my neck, "Liara… I can't…fucking control myself with you—"

Brute-force solution—

She grabbed at the top of my pants, clawing her fingertips against this bend of black and blue.

Lifting her waist up and off from mine, she ripped at this fabric, tearing it down, and down, and off, and off of me. Screaming in need with this tearing, the shock of this liberation alone almost made me come.

This jolt in my core, Shepard sensed, and took advantage of: she lowered herself, lowered her head between me, hiking up my thighs against the bends of her arms. The muscles of her biceps cushioned me in the seconds before I felt her whole, watering mouth against me, devouring me without thought.

Gripping her scalp, tangling her hair, I screamed more from this suddenness, knowing now that Shepard would not wake, she would not wake up. Possessed as she was in her dreams of taking me like this, she ate me with this roughness that she did her best to hide during her waking hours. Aching from this strength of her tongue stroking me, she had already found me; she already knew me.

The perfect contrast, kicking off this fetish in me: the way Shepard's hair moved and flowed against my thighs in silken weight. In that smoothness, I struck a match with this heat in my throat from all of my helpless noise, burning these sensations into my memory: the way Shepard blew out her breaths from her mouth against me; the way she used her entire head to give me mine, and not just her tongue, but angling her neck and putting her back into the thrusts of her tongue against this single spot of me, single-minded in pleasing me; and the way she muffled her own sounds against me, her voice vibrating as she struggled to breathe through this soaking wet of me, yet she didn't stop, she didn't stop.

Spiraling out of control with her, that jolting found me again—harder and unstoppable, just as Shepard was between me. That she couldn't control herself, that she couldn't wake up, that these lines had blurred beyond redemption, and that I felt the outline of her smirking lips against me in her perversions: all of it got to me, got me off in a single, crashing releasing, with this collision shaking me and breaking me apart, unravelling in Shepard's mouth.

As I did, I joined my nervous system with hers, needing to ride this high through her mind's eye:

Dreaming, Shepard was in this same position, this same state, as if watching herself watching, rippling out in an unending repetition with no true beginning. She saw her body glowing blue with mine from this melding, but again, her perception was so fragmented that she could not tell what the reality was.

In real life as in her dream, Shepard licked me from her lips, from the drip down her mouth.

In both, she used her tank top to wipe away and dry the rest, watching me come back down.

In both, again, I brought her head closer to my lips, allowing me to rest as I whispered in her ear:

"This is very fascinating, Shepard. Just as you fascinate me, endlessly. Before you surprised me with this, I had a feeling that something would happen. I have been awake for a couple of hours now, waiting with that feeling. And now that I have you like this, there is more that I want you to explore. Things that I couldn't bring myself to admit while you are awake."

In reality, she continued to lie here with me, sleeping soundly.

Her dream took over, and so I made myself lucid through her perceptions:

Much like during Shepard's episode with the Thorian, when I could see through her eyes in first-person, and when I could feel all that she had felt, she brought me into this same point of view.

She opened herself to my fascinations, to what I wished to explore. Deeper than her unconscious sleep, I felt her permission for far more, our experiences shared through our collective understanding of one another.

In her dream, I was no longer in bed with her. I could not see myself through her eyes. I had become a part of her, absorbed in this intimate way: to see through her, think through her, and feel through her.

I could speak to her through her mind, where only she could hear me—'Shepard, are you there?'

Somewhere between sobriety and unawareness, Shepard only groaned in her sleep.

'Open your eyes.'

Still in that same grogginess, I had this first-person view of her lids opening, her sight blurring before coming into full clarity. Staring off at the alarm clock over her nightstand, the time read 99:99am. An impossible hour, obviously, yet it spoke to the absurdity of her continued dreaming, even as I could speak with her like this while I was awake during this melding process.

'Perhaps this is selfish of me,' I communicated. 'But, our earlier conversation has yet to leave my thoughts. You were right—when it comes to you, I'm obsessed with Ashley. I cannot help how I feel. I should stop fighting it. So there is more I wish to see of you. Far more, now that we are able to do this. However, I won't force you. I can't; you are not under my direct control. This is your choice to make.'

No desire for me to stop: only a powerful emotion, a need to know what I wanted, and to show me.

'Stand up, then.'

Shepard struggled to do so, finding the floor of her room with her bare feet. As she gained her balance, I moved with her sight as she looked down at her long shorts, the boyishness of her sleeveless tank top. She knew that I intended for her to leave her quarters; even through this was not real, she remembered her logic, ruling that she could not possibly be seen like this by anyone else on the ship.

'You needn't worry about that,' I consoled her. 'Go to your holo-closet. There is something I'd like you to wear underneath your clothes. Your strap-on.'

Walking over to the orange glow of the closet, Shepard fought through the remaining fog of her dream-like state. Fumbling a bit, she searched through her sets of clothing, finding the toy that I wanted. The new weight of this appendage—I felt it between her as my own, hanging, and cresting in the somewhat tight fabric of her boxer briefs under her shorts. That tightness wrapped around her in some discomfort.

She breathed harder, though she did not grow as hard as I'd expected her to.

Not yet, at least.

I asked her, 'Is this new? You have not used it on anyone else?'

Shepard hummed her affirmative.

'And do you have other unused strap-ons to choose from in there? To eventually use with me.'

The up-and-down motion of her head as she nodded, growing harder.

She then turned around to her nearest nightstand, the one without her alarm clock sitting on top of it. Reaching in one of the drawers with hands haphazard, Shepard pulled out a few thin, square plastic packages for protection. As there was no seed to shoot out from this toy, the protection, in Shepard's mind, was only to prevent the possible spreading of infections. Again, her logic continued to dictate her actions, regardless of anything else—she pocketed the packages, awaiting my next directions.

'Now head to the elevator. Go down to the crew deck.'

Attempting to walk normally, Shepard still set her hand out beside her, smoothing her fingertips along the surfaces to assist. Logical: she went to her bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth before leaving, savoring the cinnamon flavor of her toothpaste; hating the fluoride of her mouthwash.

During the short elevator ride, she had her hands covering her groin. Still so convinced that this was real, her self-consciousness had taken over. I sensed that she knew what I wanted her to do, further cutting down her defenses and her pride. She did not fight against me. She did not change her mind; suddenly refuse and turn back, no matter how real this situation was.

She'd shown me that logic could pull at her throughout this surreal experience.

None of it, or not enough of it, could convince her to stop now.

Departing the elevator at the crew deck, Shepard stopped at the short hall, where the intersection was between the two sets of winding staircases leading to the CIC above.

No one in the mess hall. No one in the med bay.

No one was around—anywhere.

'Shepard, I want you to go to the crew's quarters. I am sure you remember the way to Ashley's private room—make your way there.'

More awake now, yet still dreaming, Shepard headed to Ashley's room. Navigating the halls of the crew's quarters, with its many doors leading to each of the separate living spaces, I felt her need to hide. As if she would activate her tactical cloak at any moment, to prevent being spotted. In her paranoia, illusions of the other crew members resonated from behind the doors: their auras, their presence, waiting to come out and find her. In particular, Shepard kept expecting Tali to emerge from one of the rooms; from every single room. She continued imagining Tali's indignant outrage, not understanding any of this. Shepard burned with shame and embarrassment at the mere thought of Tali's judgment: accusing her of creeping around like this in her perversions.

No one emerged from their rooms, yet the simple possibility kept Shepard's footsteps even quieter.

When she arrived to Ashley's door, she found that it was locked.

She stared at the red light, fixated on it.

I reminded her: 'This is only a dream. I would like you to act on the thoughts you hold back with her. I want to see how you want her. I want to know everything about you… Including this. Of course, if you would rather turn back now, you are free to do so. You will always have that choice.'

Blinking light of the color change: a Prothean, pale green shined into her eyes as permission granted.

Shepard passed through the automatic door, the low tune and hissing shifts marking her memory.

Alone in this space, and sleeping on that same lower bunk, was Ashley, practically dead to all. She had on an oversized T-shirt again, with her lower half covered by the gray, Alliance-issue blanket from her bed. Eyes fixed on the spread of her legs beneath that blanket, Shepard noticed the way her limbs seemed to bend in such a specific way. She also saw the outline of Ashley's hand and wrist somewhere near her thigh, giving away what she had done just before falling asleep.

Heartbeats picking up, Shepard distracted herself by looking around the room.

Unlike our first visit, Ashley's quarters clearly looked as though they belonged to her.

Her terminal was on another table nearby, opened to her extranet browser with several tabs—her email, both work and personal; an R&B and soul music site; vid-mail from her family; an article about differences between how civilians cleaned their guns compared to the standard Alliance practices; a glamorous lesbian pornography site made 'by human women, for human women'; collections of love sonnets and other romantic poetry; and a fan page led by someone named Conrad Verner that was dedicated to providing the latest updates on Commander Shepard's goings-on throughout the galaxy.

On the table nearest the window, Ashley had stacks and stacks of old-fashioned print magazines with Sol on the covers: Shepard's alter ego as a fashion model.

Her gowns, her androgyny, her avant-garde experimentalism, her tuxedos and other men's wear, and rare instances of the handful of her relationships and breakups plastered over various LGBT and women's magazines—the vastness of the stars beyond the glass glimmered over the complete variety of Shepard's life and career back on Earth.

On the other, smaller table next to Ashley, in between the bunks, Shepard found a few books of poetry, as well as many datapads with notes, letters, and attached photos and vids. Standing next to Ashley as she slept, Shepard picked up the topmost datapad over the unkempt pile, and read its contents:

Commander Shepard,

I don't think I'll ever let you see this.

I'm gonna write my thoughts down anyway.

It's only been a few hours since we left Eden Prime. We're headed to the Citadel now. I'm in the mess hall by myself, and I can't sit still. I'm climbing the walls from thinking about you so much. I need to vent.

I knew about you before we met down on the colony. I've known about you for years. Since Torfan, since your N7 training. You've always been a huge inspiration to me. And when I first saw your scowling picture years ago, I was…mesmerized by you. You're so gorgeous and intimidating, it's insane. Then I looked into you more, found out you're only four years older than me. You were an orphan back on Earth. You've seen some things. Explained the stories I heard about how ruthless and cutthroat you are.

When we finally met, I was on pins and needles, hoping we wouldn't butt heads too badly. I knew I'd be too proud to let you talk down to me; I knew you'd be too proud to let me backtalk you. Neither of us are the type to take any kind of disrespect lying down. I honestly wasn't sure if I'd survive our first encounter.

But during our mission, you were neutral toward me at best. You were never mean, never rude or anything like that. Well, not to me—you shook down those so-called farmers pretty good, and their smuggler pal that was hiding behind those crates. I wondered if you chose to be impartial with me since you knew I'd lost my entire unit right before you showed up with Alenko. Like, did you secretly hate me, and you were only pretending to be objective to spare my feelings? I can't really say. You're hard to read.

I remember the way that Prothean beacon lured me in with its strangeness, like I just had to see what was going on. Then it pulled me in, hard. You didn't hesitate—you saw that I was in trouble, and you grabbed me and got me out of the way. You saved me, and then that thing almost fried your brain, made you see those visions. I was so scared for you. Dr. Chakwas said it's practically a miracle you survived.

You were pretty pissed at me when you woke up. It was my fault you had to suffer through so much pain. You hurt me a lot when you yelled at me…but I couldn't blame you. I never got the chance to apologize to you properly, one-on-one. After Captain Anderson told you that he assigned me to the Normandy, you clearly didn't approve. You walked right by me when you left the med bay; didn't say a word.

I'll always carry that moment with me, Commander.

You made me feel like I didn't exist. Like I meant nothing to you. Like I was trash.

That was when I knew I had to prove myself to you. If I could get through to you, then all of my suffering would be worth it. The crappy assignments, the dickhead COs I had before, never getting accepted into military academy, and people doubting me because I'm a proud Williams—I could finally say that it was all worth it, if only to have the chance to serve with you on this team. To show you that I'm good enough.

But, honestly, this is such a surreal experience. You've been my idol for the longest, and now I get to see you every day on this incredible ship. Then again, you're more than just my idol… You're the one who made me start questioning myself. A lot of things about myself. I mean, I've had a couple of girl-crushes in the past, and I've hooked up with some women in secret…but it was never like this. They weren't you.

And now, I'm stuck between this rock and a hard place: wanting you so damn badly, while needing to prove myself to you on a professional level. My heart and my ambitions clash whenever I think about you. Plus, I know you're a lesbian… I've read the magazine stories about the few girlfriends you had. They were so much prettier than I am, and they had way more money than I do… But I guess none of that matters. There's no way you would fraternize with a subordinate. God, this is tearing me up inside…

This is nothing like me! I'm a mess already and I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle it. Then again, you can handle anything that this galaxy throws at you… I should be able to deal with this, too. I should. I will!

Okay. We're about to pull into the Citadel soon. I'm heading up to the bridge to see the sights with you as we get there. I want to see how those beautiful lights reflect off of that intensity in your eyes. And your skin, and your hair, and…all of you, really. I hope I don't stare at you too much. I'd give myself away.

A single look from you turns me on like you wouldn't believe.

Respectfully,

Ashley

.

Once Shepard finished reading the letter, she set it back down with the rest.

Verifying its contents, she remembered a brief conversation she'd had with Kaidan in the command center, on their way to the Citadel—while Ashley had been in the mess hall writing that same letter:

Standing near the galaxy map, Kaidan had told Shepard, "Am I seeing things, or does Chief Williams know you from somewhere? She seems to be kinda familiar with you…" When Shepard only frowned in disinterest, Kaidan amended, "Okay, okay, I'll admit—I could be seeing things! Or it could be that she's heard all about you through the Alliance and from the vids, and she's meeting her hero for the first time. I don't know how; can't quite put my finger on it. She likes you a lot. Maybe you should ask her about it?"

Shepard had dismissed the idea: "Ask her yourself. Do you always come to your superiors with pointless shit like this? It's high school gossip. Leave me out of it."

"Sorry, Commander… I won't bother you with this again in the future. I was only curious, that's all."

"Go be curious with someone else," she had said, walking away. "Don't waste my time, Lieutenant."

Back here in this dream, back in this version of the present, Shepard ran her hand through her hair, breathing out a sigh polluted with guilt and regret. She'd had no idea that things had been this bad, and this painful for Ashley, even back then. And now, it must have all grown worse over time.

Looming over Ashley's sleeping form, Shepard hesitated.

She stared, and hesitated.

She wanted, and hesitated.

She fixed her sights on the thinness of the blanket over Ashley's body, over the outline of her wrist and her hand just underneath; how Ashley's hand began to move ever-so-slightly, continuing; how Ashley sighed out through her own sleep, moaning Shepard's rank and her name in such defenselessness.

Possessed by her curiosities, Shepard moved the blanket aside. She sucked in a breath, finding that Ashley was completely bare down past her shirt. Still, that shirt was large enough to cover her hand, and to cover her inner thighs, but not entirely. Vague glinting from the stars outside the Normandy shined over the lean length of Ashley's legs, highlighting the wetness dripping down the slight tan of her skin, down to her sheets underneath her. She reached her nails to that moisture in her sleep, coating her fingertips with it, before moving her hand back up between her, touching herself again, a little bit more.

Taking the chance, Shepard reached out to Ashley's thigh closest to her. She stopped her hand right above. Just above. Hovering over Ashley's skin and flesh. Waiting, and watching, and listening as Ashley lay there and breathed, completely unaware of her presence.

Downward, Shepard spotted her own hardness growing out beneath her shorts, extending.

She pressed her other hand down over this lifting, blood rushing, and pumping, everywhere.

I encouraged her: 'This is only a dream, remember? None of it is real. You are allowed to explore this.'

Deploying another defense mechanism—a wall over her heart, a powerful dam—Shepard gave in.

She touched Ashley's inner thigh, slicking her fingers against the soak of her: a thin layer of this pleasant, if not persistent musken scent. Stroking her skin, the sounds rubbed through the silent night in this room. Down to the bend just under her knee, Shepard adored the hard slope on the outer side of Ashley's leg, shaping her skin and this bend in a way that she found alluring—distinctly feminine and graceful.

She lingered here for some time, obsessing through touch; enough that Shepard removed the plastic coverings from her pocket, setting them over the datapads atop Ashley's desk. She then took off her shorts, stripping down to the red of her boxer briefs containing this point of her arousal, leaving her tank top on. Farther down Shepard reached her hand—she admired the muscles here, strong and tight from Ashley's years of military service. And though she didn't reach her hand there, she took the time to enjoy the thinness of Ashley's ankles, both joined in this position she had her legs in, along with the delicateness of her bare, arched feet only barely covered by the blanket.

Stroking her hand all the way back up to Ashley's shirt, she did not go for the obvious. She instead reached farther up, tracing the shape of Ashley's fit stomach underneath the white cotton, of her full breasts hidden by the same, and to her slender neck dotted with sweat, all the way up to her face.

Leaning down, Shepard held Ashley's soft jaw with a dominant slant, at once gentle and controlling. On purpose, she did not linger here, did not take in the details of Ashley's face, the looseness of her hair.

Shepard knew that she would have to face her again in the morning; she did not wish to remember this.

Instead, she settled herself between Ashley's legs, getting on top of her. Not quite touching, not quite far-removed—Shepard kept her weight over her bent knees, over her forearms supporting her as she slipped them under Ashley's shoulders, holding her. She made sure her erection was not anywhere near enough to Ashley's thighs, to prevent her from feeling anything too early.

Intentional, Shepard leaned down, more, to Ashley's lips. She kept her eyes open in coldness, in knowing the weight of her power; though she fixed her eyes to the rise of Ashley's cheekbones, again, to avoid remembering too much of this. She found Ashley's lips with her own, thick on thick and meeting in a supportive, plump firmness. Bottomless in this breadth, Shepard pressed into her more, head tilting to find more leverage, deeper. And Ashley returned the same to her in sleep, tilting her own head higher and up into this, moaning into the meaning. All the while, this dam over Shepard's heart sparked in the beginnings of a motorized fire: protected, prevented, but still shearing and igniting in more drilling heat.

These flames loudened Ashley's moaning into a steady awakening.

Eyes shooting open, she found her sight hidden within the cascading flows of Shepard's hair, that golden brown sheltering her from the shock of finding another person on top of her like this, but not entirely—

"Shepard!" gasped Ashley, breaking their kiss. "How did you—? What…?! Oh, my God… The way you look right now, you're so freaking hot—and you're here with me…? There's no way…" Breathing harder, faint, she double-and-triple-checked Shepard's features, mesmerized and making sure: "Is it really you, Commander…? Is it you…on top of me like this…kissing me awake? Mmm, you smell so nice, too… I smelled this on you a few times before. Having you this close, it's…" Finding her own logic, Ashley calmed herself, reasoning, "No… No! I-I must be dreaming. That's it! This is a dream. It's totally a dream…"

Not wishing to confirm or deny anything, Shepard asked her, "Do you want this or not, Ashley?"

"Do I want this? You mean—you? You're honestly asking to have sex with me…? Oh, God—Shepard… I…"

The way Ashley breathed in her hesitations mixed with her wants, her needs—Shepard grunted, struggling to stay still. The undeniable sounds of a woman's voice sewn through this susurrus of Ashley's rasps, of her fears, her emotions: all joined as one, stuttering and shivering through Ashley's chest. With that stuttering, Ashley looked into Shepard's eyes, needing to see her, even if Shepard wouldn't return her regard directly; more emotion, more feelings, of disbelief, and need, and trust, and far, far more.

Underneath, her breasts shuddered up and against Shepard's on top of hers, reinforcing, reinforcing.

Making a point of what awaited, Shepard pressed just enough of herself between Ashley's legs.

Easing her body into the movement instead of away, Ashley melted from the welcome surprise, moaning this time in sheer delicious delight. And she held Shepard around her back, tangling her hands and her arms through her hair, sounding out more of her pleasure, all of it only from this fore.

Shepard pulled back, and forced her own voice to push through, "If you don't, I'll walk away—"

"Commander, wait!" cried Ashley, gripping her harder. "I do want it. Yes, I want you… Hell yes. I just…" Breathing in, and out, once more. "This is so sudden! And I… I-I've never… I mean—I have, but…"

"I thought you've slept with other people."

Ashley sighed over this vulnerable space: "I have… Some guys, some girls. Not a whole lot… And—and we only had oral. It wasn't… Like, I would always stop things before we got too far! It never felt right, so I didn't let them do anything more to me… One of the girls—I fucked her, but I wasn't her first…"

Tensing her jaw in her control, Shepard asked, "You're a virgin, Ash?"

Shuddering over the question, and over Shepard finally using her nickname, Ashley replied, "Yes…"

Shepard attempted to leave. "Then we're not doing this—"

Gripping her harder around her back, again, Ashley begged her, "Commander, no, please-please-please don't go!" She then let out a sound of frustration, hiking her hips higher against Shepard's pointed lingering between her legs. "Damnit, I'm a mess… I told myself, if I ever got the chance to do this, I wouldn't throw myself at you like some desperate whore… I wouldn't do it. Now I'm fucking doing it!" Discarding those concerns already, Ashley tried again, "Shepard, please don't leave… This feels right with you! This feels so damned right, like I always dreamed it would… I need it from you. I need you…"

Pulse throbbing through her neck, Shepard growled again, this time over her new dilemma:

She knew that there was no escaping this—especially not with Ashley tasting her neck so, sucking and licking her throbbing in this succulence, revering her in a maddened high from this fresh opportunity. Eager in that desperation, Ashley stayed at this in true hunger, pulling at Shepard's control—the unyielding bones of her, the unmoving steel of her—needing her closer, oh so much closer.

More begging, so depraved: "Please, stay with me… God, please, I've needed you for years—ever since I first saw you, how intense you are, how drop-dead gorgeous you are… Exactly like the sun, you're so brilliant and special—I'd go to the ends of the galaxy for you, Commander." Ashley hiked herself against Shepard again, higher and more persistent, rusting at Shepard's restraint—"You could end me with one touch, one look… I want you to do it with your whole body. I need you to destroy me—to take the last of this purity I'll ever fucking have. I want to give it up to you, Shepard… Only you, only you. No one else…"

This gaping, open weakness Shepard had for a woman unrestrained, and needing to please her needs:

Ashley found it, finding Shepard lowering her body in response, and seized at this chance—

"Fuck, I can't stand this… You're so dreamy, Commander. You're everything I've ever needed in another person. There's no way I'm letting you go now. Please, oh please…won't you please take me? I want you to claim me, break me. I need you to make me bleed…just like I've been bleeding for you for years now…"

Ashley's breathing, again, with her breathy breaths laced so with the rasp of her voice: Shepard's entire body pulsed in a rage against her control. Completely uninhibited, Ashley reached for Shepard's boxer briefs. Smirking and sounding out in that same delicious delight, she reveled in this hardness shaping itself within the slight tightness of the red fabric there, pulsing harder and harder underneath her touch. She kept at it, and kept at it, bringing Shepard closer, so close, until she could almost pull her arousal right out from her boxer briefs.

"Fucking take me, Shepard," she breathed, right in her ear. "Fuck me. Own me, finally. Make me your goddamned bitch already. You know I'm yours… I've been holding myself back all this time. I only wanted to avoid pissing you off—making you hate me—because I wasn't sure if we could ever do this… By now, you have to know I'm crazy about you. That I'd kill for you to have me. So what are you waiting for…?"

Caressing Ashley's hand with her own, rounding over the shape of her mounted touch, Shepard made up her mind without thinking at all.

She then pressed her lips to Ashley's one last time, before whispering in her mouth—

"No, Ash. I said no." Pulling away, Shepard growled over the way Ashley could not, would not let go, clinging to her. "There's no way I'm disrespecting you like this! I don't know enough about you… I mean, you sound like you—"

Holding on, holding on, Ashley admitted: "What, like I love you? Like I'm in love with you? That's because I am, Shepard! I love you! God, I love you…" She found some solace in Shepard relaxing over her, barely enough to hold back her tears, shuddering hard. "Fuck, how are you doing this to me…? Why am I falling apart all because you won't have sex with me? I'm losing it… Ugh, what the hell is wrong with me?!"

Shepard held her, giving up on the idea of leaving, exactly—"Ashley…I'm not leaving your room—"

"—no, but you're going to go back to her once this is over! My alarm's gonna go off in a few hours, and then this dream will end… Damnit, damnit…! No, no, I can't—I'm not letting you go, Shepard. I won't!"

"I'm not cutting you off," promised Shepard. "If you really want me, then you'd better make that clear."

Ashley needed her—"I'm gonna come after you. Hard and fast. Is that what you want? You need me to prove myself all over again? You wanna see how messed up I am for you? Because if that's what it's gonna take, just say the word. I'll do whatever you want… I'll do anything, anything at all! Please…"

Once again, not a single thought or hesitation—"Yeah, that's what I want, and that's what you should do. I'll listen to whatever you have to say. Just don't expect anything to change any time soon."

"Okay, Shepard…you asked for it. I swear, when we're not out on active missions—I'll give you my all."

"Good. I don't want you to hold back with me. For now, go to sleep. Go to sleep, Ash. Go back to sleep…"