"And You and I" from Samurai X: Reflection
LXXXIV. Janiris
(Liara)
The remainder of this holiday blessed us with the rest and rejuvenation we needed. Through the following week, as New Year's Eve approached, our team enjoyed this time on Thessia while we still could. As this handful of days passed by, I felt myself clinging to my homeworld. Clinging to the ether, the earth itself. All because I didn't want to leave home again. We all knew the likely state Thessia would be in the next time we returned. Similar to Earth, to Palaven, to Sur'Kesh, and to Omega. Time ticked toward that totality.
Already we heard rumblings of the Reapers arriving to Tuchanka.
After tonight on this eve before the New Year, and Janiris tomorrow, our mission would begin anew.
No matter how much I wished to stay home with everyone, and with Shepard, we just couldn't.
Trying to forget for a while, a group of us went out on the town that night. Legion, EDI, Wrex, and Tali joined Shepard and me for this little excursion. Shepard clearly noticed the schism in our friend group—having broken off from nearly everyone else—yet she decided not to ask about it. She also noticed that Tali and I had clearly made up after what happened at the party last week. I had managed to smooth things over with her. These things would never be perfect for us. But as I had explained to Shepard, our friendship was stronger than anything that could divide us. We didn't need that drama in our lives.
Passing this time until midnight, our smaller team went shopping, and then out to eat—with Legion and EDI accompanying us anyway—and then for a walk around Armali's city square. Here the crowds awaited the big countdown to midnight: the fanfare, the celebrations, the fireworks. And these emotions filled the air, through this chilly weather. We enjoyed our warm clothes; and the heat of our breaths blew out as a cooled mist, rising higher and higher with our voices, our laughter.
Shepard kept her gloved hand over mine, intertwined with mine. The sturdy material of her leather-like wear kept me even warmer. Something about her energy that night had transfixed me, too. How easily she spoke with our group, getting along with them. How far her hesitations had receded: to be present with us, to spend this time with us as our leader. Her willingness to do this with me. I didn't sense any emotional exhaustion from Shepard today, from our many interactions with the others. She would be tired later, yes. This time, she didn't feel the need to retreat and hide away as she recharged her batteries.
We managed to find a space among this crowd for our group. Packed and huddled among these thousands upon thousands in the city square, waiting as midnight neared. Only minutes away.
I enjoyed just being here with her.
Here on this holiday, making the most of our time together.
Even as I felt myself getting wistful over the future—the uncertainty there.
Shepard noticed. In the middle of this massive crowd, surrounded by some of our friends, she kept her attention to me. Wrapping me in her arms, warming me more in the coziness of her coat, she smiled.
Leaning down closer, her breaths heated this side of my face: "Something on your mind, babe?"
"The usual," I whispered back to her. "I wish this didn't have to end."
Charming in her wisdom, she pointed out to me, "It'll end before you get the chance to soak it in."
When she put it that way, my worries and concerns all seemed silly. At least for a moment like this.
They gnawed at me anyway. No matter how many times I tried to reassure myself, it didn't work. I couldn't stop thinking about our apocalyptic future—even as Shepard soaked in my worries, mirroring them in her gaze on me. The way she absorbed my energies felt unusual. Different for her. Not that she hadn't done this in the past. Something about this night had changed her. Something about these circumstances—our limited freedom, our mission waiting just over the horizon—made Shepard experience her own realizations. And I needed this from her. I needed this soothing, attentive focus from her. I needed the waves of understanding ebbing into me from her flow, her showings of affection:
Shepard pulled me closer in her arms. She held together my vulnerabilities, especially as she kept this look about her. This unending kindness in her eyes. Unwavering. Unmoved by anyone or anything else around us. Everything had fallen away, secluding her with me in this crowd. So much so that Shepard eased my head against her chest, rocking me from side to side in her arms. Lulling me. Completely invigorating me. Shepard surprised me so much by taking this extra step. Going this extra mile. The extremes of her care for me, loving me in this way I needed. Just as unexpected as her care, this arousal seeped through me, rising on this high of highs. I'd never dreamed of having anything like this from her.
"I'm here, Liara," she reminded me. "I know we've been through a lot… But I'm here now, okay?"
"I love that you're here. Hearing you say it like that… Well, it gets to me. I'm not sure why."
Rubbing my back in encouragement, she said, "I think you know why. Maybe you don't want to say it."
"That I'm emotionally dependent on you?"
"Could be. Does that bother you?"
"It doesn't. Co-dependence can be dangerous. I do my best to avoid turning you off. When you give me your heart like this, it opens me in so many ways. I need you. It's why I don't want this moment to end."
Only one more minute until midnight.
Staring up at the starry sky, Shepard held me in her contemplation. This sudden nostalgia about her. Somewhere out there, Earth stared down at us, glimmering among those billions and billions of lights. Indiscernible to our eyes, yet with us in spirit, Shepard's homeworld seemed to call out to her now.
I mentioned, "You said you have never kissed anyone at midnight for this tradition. Why haven't you?"
Shrugging as she kept looking up, Shepard reminisced, "I was always deployed around this time of the year. Off on some assignment, using that as an excuse to avoid my relationships. Or traveling for my modeling gigs. Or I was single. I've never been to New York City for this celebration we would have every year. The ball drop, musical performances; news anchors drunk out of their minds and saying the wildest shit on live TV. I didn't see the point in going."
"Do you see the point now?"
Shepard couldn't find the words to express how she felt.
The way I felt her heart hammering just beneath my face: this seemed to be her answer.
All as this final countdown roared through the people around us—human refugees most of all.
"Do you miss Earth? Are you homesick, Shepard?"
Confusion, nostalgia, frustrations mixed and screwed together in her eyes. The sheen of tears there, burning in the entropy of her bad memories of home. The disappointments and disillusionment from her youth. Her earliest relationships destabilizing her. Yet her sudden helplessness for the present pushed through. Knowing she couldn't go back with the Reapers there. And her eyes glittered in the promise of what could have been, and what could be—with me, with our team, with what we had together.
Bringing her back down to me, I gave Shepard this promise at midnight:
Not only to take Earth back as soon as we could, but to do more than that. To share times like these more and more often. Endlessly, she had me. Endlessly, we had our bond, our steady commitments to one another. Expressing and expressing, I gave Shepard these reminders of my own. This tremble of her lips, the shallowness of her breaths—she heard me without words, and she felt me without misgivings. I needed her to know that I was here, too. I was here for her, just as I always would be. No matter what.
She gave more of her promises to me, too.
More than I could ever measure in any meaningful way.
We carried this new spirit with us into the brand new year. Sharing in this unity with our friends: keeping Tali, Wrex, EDI, and Legion close. Closer than before with these strange circumstances in our group. None of that affected us for the time being. We shared in this joy together, enjoying our time in Armali for one more night. Going out more, laughing more, enshrining this time in our memories even more.
Some of this still felt surreal.
As if the moments would slip from my fingers at any second.
Ethereal in this ending to the previous year, we all returned home. Back to our rooms, back to this final retreat. As soon as we made it back to my bedroom, Shepard and I had this unspoken want. I didn't have to ask her to take off my clothes. The frosty chill from outside still burrowed into our skin. She replaced that cold with her eternal heat, burning brighter than anything I could imagine. Only for me. Just for me.
Shepard gave this to me for hours and hours. So reminiscent of our time before. Melding and continuing and continuing. Constantly reminding me of why she chose me. Relentless in her need to please me. The way she surrounded me, I felt this brimming everywhere. I wanted to tell her—"I can't live without you." I wanted to say the words, but they wouldn't come. No matter how many times I did, I couldn't make myself say everything. Shepard felt it from me. She wouldn't let me go. She kept surrounding me as I needed, with her strength, with her stature, with her superiority in this power play, however obscure.
I felt it the most over my back, keeping my hand next to my head. She stayed on top of me, linking her hand in mine. The back of my hand over these wrinkled sheets. The sweat and duress of her palm cupped with mine, space mingling and changing and deepening with this puzzle-like unity of our fingers. I wanted to tell her, like this—"Give me everything of you." Everything she had, I wanted it. All of her emotions: her homesickness, her frustrations, her confusions, and most of all her burdens. Always needing to be our hero, needing to sacrifice herself, and to be everything to everyone else—I needed this release from her. That I could not say the words only broke my heart, shattering these pieces somewhere within me. Too fragile to exist on my own, this constant unity acted as a life force for me.
As always, Shepard felt the truth from me, somewhere.
Someplace unspoken. Somewhere I could only dream of.
She sent me to that place, within those dreams, not long after our endless hours in my bed in the night.
And once the sun rose over Thessia again, these vermillion skies kept vigil over our last celebration.
The last one for now. New Year's Day and Janiris.
Taking part in this tradition of my people, I spent the day with flowers. Making these flower wreaths for Shepard, for our friends. We enjoyed our time outside in the park next to my home. Sitting in the shade of the trees. Making the most of the perfect weather on this sunny day. Most of us. For the most part.
Shepard seemed a little off.
She sensed something. The faint distractedness about her, trying to figure out the source of her sensing.
Sitting against the trunk of this tree with her, I asked, "What's the matter?"
Surrounded by this smell of fresh grass and flowers, Shepard couldn't have been further from this joy.
She warned me, "I offered to pay Miranda back. For helping you on the Citadel."
"And? What is so terrible about that? I can see why you would want to show your gratitude to her."
"I just get the feeling she's going to ask for a favor soon."
A different type of end to our idealism:
Shepard checked her omni-tool. Another alert, another email. From someone in particular.
Someone whose digital presence caused me to flinch and scorn.
I knew I should have been over this by now. Shepard had more than proven to me she had eyes for no one else. These inconveniences continued to rack up, anyway. These constant reminders of before.
And there it was.
Miranda warning us about Reaper activity on Tuchanka.
Miranda asking us to join the next mission.
Miranda making these demands.
Solheim or whoever—she had this intelligence even before Wrex.
Wrex, who came to us in a hurry just then, warning us now:
"That damned devil ship Satan is on Tuchanka! Its forces are closing in on our camps and towns. We gotta get moving, Shepard!"
Mordin also had news for us. He had finished with the cure. The cure for the genophage. So our mission would be twofold: securing Mordin as he dispensed the cure—to where, we didn't know yet—and defeating Satan, the Reaper commander.
Leaving Thessia in a flash, we departed to the Normandy.
Off to the war room once Shepard gathered us. Off to carry on our duty.
Off to turn my deepest desires off, knowing what else and who else I had to face soon.
Holding this in.
Holding this in.
Holding these objections, these outbursts in.
I did not want to see Miranda again. I did not want to interact with her again. I didn't, I didn't, I didn't.
Not even retreating to my room on the Normandy could calm me down. I couldn't stop thinking about this. Over and over and over again, I obsessed. I fixated. I paced and tried to sit down and tried to stand at my computer to work and tried to set my new gifts in the most appropriate places in the room.
I couldn't stop thinking about Miranda contacting Shepard again. Asking to join us on this mission to Tuchanka as repayment for Apollo. Except I shouldn't have been doing this. I should have found my focus. I should have put my attention toward Mordin's cure for the genophage—imminent now, as he would present to us in the war room in some time once he was ready. I should have directed my attention to Wrex, in his anger and grief over the enemy attacking his homeworld now. We had just enjoyed our luxury on my homeworld. I couldn't blame Wrex for wondering why things had to be this way; why the asari continued to live in safety while his people now had to fight and fend for their lives.
This disgusting shame nearly made me nauseous. Sick to my stomach again in this uncontrollable wave.
Sitting on my bed, I tried to remember myself.
The beauty of these flower wreaths. Shepard's consideration in gifting me these comforting toys, both so sentimental. The new pistol she had given me. Presents from Tali and the others. These memories of our time together as a team, as friends…maybe as family. Except this specter continued to loom. Threatening to destroy everything I had. Everything, after I had clawed my way to this precipice, all the way from that bleeding rock bottom. Just last year. Just those months ago. And here this new threat emerged. Miranda, still believing herself as the one protecting Shepard. Miranda, not yet understanding that ship had long-since sailed. I needed to tell her the truth. I needed her to know. I needed to dissuade her from ever thinking, ever believing she had an angle to return. To return to Shepard's side again.
But no—but—
Unreasonable. Unreasonable. Unreasonable.
"I'm being unreasonable," I spoke aloud to myself. "I shouldn't… I'm not supposed to… I can't do this."
I shouldn't.
I wasn't supposed to.
I couldn't, yet I did it anyway.
I could handle Miranda's presence on the Citadel. Her convenient existence had helped us defeat Apollo's fleet. I would always be grateful for that. As would Shepard, given that she had extended this offer to pay Solheim back for helping me, keeping me safe. Keeping me alive against that onslaught.
I couldn't handle Miranda joining us on this mission to Tuchanka. I couldn't. I couldn't.
At the same time, I knew I couldn't do this alone.
I should have spoken up. Reached out to someone. Asked Tali, Shepard for their support.
Even though Tali and I had settled things from the other night, I worried. I worried that she still needed space to process everything. Meanwhile, Shepard had retreated to her private cabin. We would have this overnight flight to mentally prepare ourselves for Tuchanka. I should have been following orders. I should have worried more about Wrex and his people instead of my own worthless problems. So minuscule in the grand scheme of things. But what if? What if they weren't minuscule? What if-what if?
I had no reason to believe Solheim would try anything. Yet I still felt this urge. This need to keep her from worming her way back into Shepard's life. How I wished I could have set aside this rage. This burning rage blazing through me as a constant hellfire, unrelenting. Unwilling to leave me alone.
Why couldn't she leave us alone?
Why couldn't she realize when she had lost?
Why couldn't I stop imagining her silent intentions to sweep back in and earn Shepard's favor?!
After everything she had done to us!
"No, not this again… Not these demons."
As I said those words, a miracle arrived.
A knock at my door. Stern, sharp in her concern. And her voice from the other side:
"Liara? Babe, you in there? Is everything all right?"
How did she know?
I hurried to open my door. I hurried to see her again.
Out in the hall, I found Shepard standing before me. That same concern from her voice showed in her face, contorting her expression. Creases and changes and clear signs of her love for me. Not once did Shepard so much as blink as she stood there. Not until I stepped aside, allowing her inside my room.
Once the door closed and locked behind her, Shepard moved closer to me.
She held my face in her hands. Canting my head up toward her. Making sure I couldn't look away from her light. I avoided her gaze anyway. I averted my eyes. I didn't know if I wanted her to see me like this.
"Look at me," she soothed.
This tremble in her hands. How her concern, her worries had veined through her bloodstream, steaming this cupping of her palms over my face. And stronger once I finally looked at her. Shepard saw this figurative red in my eyes. The literal red: the veins at these corners of my stare, I saw reflected in her irises. This reflection spoke so much. She wondered how to approach this topic. How best to word herself. She had her composure; I did not.
"Is this my fault?"
I shook my head. "It's mine. I keep thinking of the worst. These doomsday scenarios. They won't leave."
"Then let's talk about it," she offered.
I allowed Shepard to guide me to my bed.
We sat down.
We didn't say anything at first.
These thoughts continued to spin in my head. I felt myself on the brink of loss. Of Shepard abandoning me somehow, despite her promises not to. Obsessing over Miranda, comparing myself to her: how Shepard could have fallen for her again. How intelligent and capable and confident and clever and utterly beautiful Miranda was—in ways I was not, in ways that could have swayed Shepard away from me. Surface-level and shallow. Still possible. The mere idea had upset my breathing. Inhaling, exhaling harder and harder, sharper and sharper, the red from my eyes had spread down to my face. Both in anger and in this persistent shame. Shame over not being able to control my emotions. Shame over not knowing how to modulate my own feelings. Shame over needing Shepard as this guiding light of mine.
Shepard held my hand in both of hers. This simple act made me remember myself. At least a little.
I mirrored her breathing. I mirrored her calm, her steadiness. I reflected her emotions back to her.
"You're not over it," she noticed. "What happened before. All the drama."
All I could do was shake my head once more.
"Are you expecting yourself to be over it?"
"Yes," I made myself reply. "Now that we are together, I thought… I assumed I would be fine now."
"That's not how it works, babe. There's no such thing."
I supposed she had a point.
I didn't know why I expected everything to be over with. As if our relationship were a magic wand, forcing those traumas and pain and hurt feelings to vanish in an instant. If only things worked that way.
"What's on your mind, Liara? Tell me. I want to know."
I hesitated.
I did not want to complain. I didn't want to seem entitled, or paranoid, or jealous. I felt myself growing embarrassed over our conversation, really. Embarrassed that—once again—Shepard felt the need to comfort me. Once again, we needed to talk about these things. To go over them with this meticulous amount of care and patience and time and energy. Even so, as I looked to Shepard sitting before me on my bed, I loved her so much. I loved her for the patience she showed me. She could have stayed here, waiting for me to speak—waiting for hours, for days, for months or more, and she would not have complained. She wouldn't have criticized me. She wouldn't have told me to get over myself. Not once.
This same patience from her had brought us back together. Not that long ago. Last year, technically.
That simple truth helped me share with her: "I can't stop thinking about her. Seeing her again will be different this time. I know you offered to repay her for helping us. I still despise this underlying issue. How Miranda feels she has some kind of ownership over you. She still believes she is your protector."
Shepard nodded in understanding. "I see why that bothers you. When you put it that way…"
"Did you ever plan on telling her the truth?"
"No, I didn't plan on it. If you'd rather tell her the story—or just tell her enough—then I won't stop you. We should expect some type of consequences."
"Consequences?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
Shepard admittedly did not know any details. She only knew enough from knowing Miranda herself. She knew what to anticipate. She knew what to expect. But she could not put any specifics into words.
What she did know: "Hackett sent over a few reports. We're hearing whispers from the Alliance that Cerberus is making some key moves on Noveria. They seem to be scaling up their operations. We don't know anything more than that. All this uncertainty isn't sitting right with the upper-brass. No one knows if Cerberus is still our enemy or not, even with Solheim at the helm. The last thing we want is for them to trip us up again. We need to be prepared to follow this trail at some point. Will you be okay with that?"
Well, this sounded suitably impersonal. What a relief.
"Yes, of course. Is this why you accepted Miranda's request? To keep an eye on her movements?"
"That's one reason," said Shepard. "It'll be easier to follow her after the mission. If she leaves for Noveria instead of going home to Illium—or even back to Cerberus HQ at Cronos Station—then we'll know something's up. When I spoke to her before, she let a few things slip about Noveria. She wasn't supposed to tell me. In the same breath, Miranda kept reminding me to trust her. It's not adding up."
Pragmatic as always.
Compared to her solid reasons, my concerns seemed so petty and trivial. Now more than ever.
But I still needed to do this. I couldn't wait to tell Solheim the truth once and for all. Anything to sever this link between the two of them, I would gladly handle myself. And so I made the appropriate plans to tell Miranda the truth on Tuchanka. Perhaps directly after the mission.
Then again, this other person and those past experiences helped prepare Shepard for us:
The stability we had today.
The trust we shared.
Enough for Shepard to ask me, "What is it?"
More in love with her than ever, I breathed out, "You are my favorite person. I want you to know that."
Such a handsome smile she gave me, illuminating my whole world.
"You're my favorite person, too, Liara. You always have been. I'm here for you. Whatever you need."
We both still needed time. Learning to lean on one another, learning to depend on one another.
Taking this time, we made the most of our overnight flight to Tuchanka. Resting up. Switching gears for the mission. Remembering ourselves: that the mission came first, before anything and everything. We couldn't afford to fail. So no matter what it took, I needed to set my personal issues aside for this. Our captain expected nothing less than my total devotion on the field. She would always have it from me.
The next day, as we approached Tuchanka, Shepard left with me to the war room.
We assembled with only Mordin and Wrex for the time being. The rest of our team waited on standby. Depending on the demands of this mission, Shepard would only need a small squad—or she would need everyone. She first needed to assess the situation before calling anyone else to the war room with us.
"Mordin," addressed Shepard on our approach. "You said you have the cure ready?"
"Yes," replied Mordin, solemn in his preparedness. "Cure ready for dispersal on Tuchanka. Eve also ready for travel to krogan homeworld. Timely convenience. Grim situation. Couldn't complete work before devil ship's arrival. Will complicate matters."
"Don't worry about that. What are our options for getting the cure to the krogan?"
Wrex brought up a holographic image on the war room console: a tall, slim tower of a pearly white color. The building raised high through Tuchanka's radioactive skies, humidifying through the pollution. "There's only one option. The Shroud. That's where we need to get Mordin to disperse the cure. It's the fastest way. Anything else would be too slow. Or just plain impossible with the Reapers out there."
"Understood. What can you tell me about the Shroud?"
Mordin explained, "Climate regulator. Counteracts radiation damage to Tuchanka's atmosphere from nuclear war. Particles emitted from main tower. Form layer that mitigates bombardment. Prevents atmospheric escape of necessary elements. Salarians placed facility during krogan uplift process. Demonstration of goodwill to krogan. Stabilized climate, impressed population. Combined with technological gifts, easy to gain krogan support against rachni. Will need facility now for cure dispersal."
"There's just three problems," warned Wrex. A gargantuan holographic Reaper appeared next to the Shroud, dwarfing the tower. "First one is that devil ship. Satan. It's parked right at the Shroud facility. No way we can land a shuttle there. We'll need to go in on foot, skirt around it. I have my people fighting out there. My idiot brother Wreav will make a useful ally for once. Need to make the most of his tanks for protection. Have to hope we can get to the Shroud before the enemy blows up the whole tower."
"Agreed," said Shepard. "What's the next problem?"
"It's about the salarians. Remember we talked about the dalatrass? How she probably had some scheme to sabotage the cure? Well, turns out we were right. Some trusted sources sent me a few tips about it. Don't know all the details. What I do know is: years ago, some STG operatives sabotaged the Shroud, making sure no one could ever cure the genophage. There's some kind of malfunction in the tower."
"Unfortunate," noted Mordin. "Malfunction would alter cure's viability, forcing failure. Continued genophage. Problematic for krogan. Not impossible to work around. Can repair malfunction manually. Concerned dalatrass would have communicated sabotage to you, Shepard. Leveraged salarian support for Earth with going along with plan, fooling krogan. Would have enraged Wrex if plan discovered."
"No shit," grumbled Wrex. "Either way, I can't see Shepard stabbing me in the back like that."
"I would have told you right away, Wrex. There's no way I'd betray your people." Shepard sensed the worst coming. "Now what's this third problem we have?"
Wrex changed the console's display one more time.
The images there showed the entirety of Tuchanka on fire. The planet up in flames as a hellscape of Satan's wrath. Krogan tanks and shock troops kept running afoul of those flames, forced to reroute themselves moment-by-moment. Alliance ships couldn't provide proper air support with these hazardous conditions. The flames ravaged civilian camps and towns; the people fled their homes, only to get lost in Tuchanka's wastelands, or hunted down in a sea of gore by Reaper ground troops.
This hellfire felt so personal to me.
As if it burned in the rage of someone I knew. Her specific wrath, pointed precisely in my direction. Already I felt those temperatures barreling toward me. The danger, the anger of all these years as a sheer force of nature.
Shepard and Wrex noticed the same. Mordin respected the symbolism, the imagery on display.
"Why?" asked Shepard. "How did this happen…?"
Wrex grumbled, "Guess Ashley doesn't want anyone else to be clan chief. Definitely not Liara."
I remembered that nickname Wrex had given her before. Back in the old days.
I didn't want these reminders. I couldn't afford to let any of this distract me. Not before the mission.
Setting this example, Shepard declared, "It doesn't matter. Once we take out Satan, those flames should disappear. Wrex, let's meet up with Wreav at a safe location. We'll coordinate our forces and find a path to the Shroud. If the fire causes problems for us, we'll look for another way forward. I need all hands on deck for this one. We're bringing the full team. EDI, tell everyone else to get to the war room."
EDI's voice sounded over the intercom, "Understood."
"Like I said, curing the genophage is our immediate priority. We need to escort Mordin safely to the Shroud facility. Without air support, this'll be a straight-up ground fight as we push ahead. Once Mordin takes care of the cure, we shift our focus to Satan. The Shroud isn't high enough to reach its backdoor. I don't see any other buildings we can use to get up there, either."
Wrex reminded us, "My home's mostly a wasteland. There's some ruins of an ancient city out there. Not the kind of thing you're looking for. No clue how we'll get you all the way up to that door."
I volunteered, "Commander, as a last resort, I could use my biotics. Maybe I could lift you up to the entrance. It would be difficult… But if there's no other way, I can get this done for you."
"Sounds like a lot, Liara. I'm not saying you can't do it. It would be a last resort, as you said. Let's do our best to find another way once we're out there. If we can't, then I'll ask for your help."
"Very well."
Then we heard Traynor speaking, "Commander, incoming message marked urgent. It's from Cerberus… Should I put it in the comm room for you?"
Shepard and I both knew who this was.
"Go ahead," she replied, bringing me to the QEC with her.
Soon we found this blue-tinted projection of Solheim's form at the vid comm. The same getup of hers; and the unabashed Cerberus logo branded there over her chest. She had her arms folded, face furrowed in frustration. Those emotions lessened somewhat once she regarded Shepard with me. She calmed to a professional neutrality, willing and able to have this measured conversation with us.
"Shepard, Liara," she stated, curt as ever. "I've arrived to Tuchanka's orbit. It's a damned mess out there. A total madhouse with the Reapers and the flames. Where do you want me to meet you?"
Shepard told her, "We're still deciding that. I'll send you the coordinates soon once we have a location."
"Good. What's our plan of attack?"
I listened as Shepard briefed Miranda on the relevant details. The whole time, I watched our guest closely. I studied the way she listened and learned. I took in her reactions, both subtle and not. How she fixated on Shepard—with or without meaning to. The hidden longing there. She couldn't shield her desires completely. I noticed the way Solheim would shift her thighs on occasion, slightly hidden beneath the slip of her half-dress over her dark skintight suit. Tightening and tightening. Not wanting to let anything slip through.
After my conversation with Shepard yesterday, I knew I shouldn't have felt this way:
Taking offense now. All at the mere suggestion that Miranda might think about Shepard in certain ways.
Right this very second.
I needed to focus on the mission. I understood that.
Yet every time Solheim seemed to lose her breath, listening to Shepard's perfunctory explanations, I wanted to scream. I wanted to end this call and call the whole thing off. I wanted to tell Miranda to leave and never come back.
"…we'll need you to join us on the ground," continued Shepard. "Everyone will be with us. I'll expect you to stay near the front, leading the charge with our other defensive members like Kaidan. Are you okay with taking point in the fire?"
"Not a problem, Commander," reassured Miranda. "If that's what you expect from me, I'll get it done."
"All right. The rest of the team is waiting for me. I'll brief them, and then we'll decide on that safe location to meet up. I'll be in touch soon."
"Right. I'll wait to hear from you. See you on Tuchanka."
Once again, I knew we needed Solheim's expertise. This battle would no doubt take a toll on us. And not just me, or our other strong biotics this time. Everyone, including Shepard. She remained at a disadvantage in a straight-up fight like this. Yet we needed her to lead us through the hellscape that awaited on the krogan homeworld. As we returned to the war room, finding our entire team ready to go, I did my best to remember. To keep things in perspective. To stay grounded, knowing that this ground war would challenge us as a unit. As a team. With our plus-one.
Continuing forward in earnest, our next stop on the Cerberus Express awaited—on Tuchanka.