Ch. 10: Conflicted, Part 2

Liara

All I could think about was how clean my fingernails were. I had been staring at them for Goddess knows how long, thinking how silly it was that something so small could bring up a wave of nostalgia. There was a time when, at this point in the day, I would be gathering my tools and packing them away before returning to my little camp. I would pull out my little pointed file and start cleaning the dirt from underneath my fingernails—a ritual that eventually became comforting instead of unpleasant.

My fingernails had never been fully clean in those days. In fact, not a part of my body could boast of cleanliness when I was out in the field, gathering dirt into new crevices of my skin with each passing hour. As a young doctorate student whose theories were largely discounted, I had very little money for my research and even less to spend on actual equipment, not unless I was willing to break down and ask my mother to fund my expeditions. Which I wasn't. Benezia had been against my fascination with the Protheans from the very beginning; I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of begging for her help.

I had traveled with the bare minimum of equipment, not like the full camps with showers that some of the more esteemed doctors were able to tote around with their full staff of associate professors and graduate students. I was lucky to have so much as a wet washcloth to use on my digs. At the very least, it made me feel a little less disgusting when I could wipe my face and hands off.

Here on Illium, I was still digging and searching for secrets, but now the people were very much alive and the dirt was only figurative. I miss being able to wipe the dirt off.

I tore my eyes away from my hands and back to the two datapads placed in front of me. Two such ordinary pieces of technology shouldn't be able to represent such a turning point in my life. One would send me back to Shepard, but the other would allow me my revenge. If I smashed them both to pieces, could I go back to pretending like I didn't have to make a choice?

"You always have a choice," Shepard always said. Why did it always have to be a choice with her? She was always pushing at me, pulling at me. She was a refuge and a storm all at once.

I closed my eyes.

Two years ago

"Babe, if you want it, just grab it. I told you I'd get you anything you wanted," her voice said, appearing next to my ear before she snuggled her face into my neck. Her arms wrapped around me from behind, and I sighed, completely content.

I turned around in her arms, placing a quick soft kiss on her lips. She smiled back at me, eyes crinkling at the corners. There was a softness in her eyes reserved only for me, and I imagined the same look shone through my eyes as well when I looked at her. Not for the last time, I wondered that I had ever been given something so extraordinary as love.

"And I told you I didn't need anything. Besides, I can buy it for myself," I responded, pushing out of her embrace to continue walking around the store, but she caught my waist again and brought me back.

"I am well aware of your purchasing capabilities, Liara," Shepard said, laughing. "I'm just doing something nice. Let me get something for you. God knows I've got plenty of money sitting around."

"And I'm the one with an estate," I replied, winking playfully. Shepard's violet eyes twinkled at me as she let my waist go to grab my hand again.

"Between you and me, our kids are going to be set for life, even if they do live for a thousand years," she said casually. I froze, stopping her with me when our hands yanked against each other.

"Kids?" I squeaked.

Shepard levelled that infuriatingly calm look back at me. Her eyes got all soft in a way that I had never seen during my time with her on the Normandy. She had always been so busy and stressed out by the mission, but here her eyes were only on me. It was something that I had always wanted, and yet, in that moment, her undivided attention was almost too intense. The way her eyes could manage to see right through me set my skin on fire and made my collar too tight

"Does that scare you?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered honestly. "It's terrifying."

"I'm not saying now, or even anytime soon. Just letting you know that I've thought about it," Shepard said gently. I wished I could meld with her in that moment, show her my real thoughts beneath the panic clearly showing on my face, anything to wipe the hurt that flickered across her face. But we had yet to discuss those boundaries, and I had gathered that most humans valued their minds as private. Speaking of boundaries...

"Shepard, we haven't even talked about living together, and you're discussing children?" I said, hoping I wasn't sounding too harsh and wishing the panicked squeak would leave my voice.

"I hope my intentions towards you have always been clear, Liara. I am in love with you, and I don't do things halfway," Shepard said, smirking at me the way she does.

I didn't realize she had steered me towards the jewelry store, until we were standing in front of the case. I looked down at the section she had stopped in front of and saw they were all asari bondmate bracelets. Her eyes were clearly on a beautiful silver woven bracelet with sapphires and diamonds. It was simple, but tasteful, exactly something Shepard would pick out. The attendant was smiling at us expectantly, but I couldn't find a way to move from the spot I was in.

"Would you want one of these?" Shepard turned and asked.

And suddenly I felt so overwhelmed. Shepard was looking at me, waiting patiently with that look that said she knew exactly what was going on in my head. I pulled my hand free and moved quickly towards the door, doing the only thing I could manage at the moment: escape.

There was a long pause before I heard the steady pace of Shepard's footsteps behind me, but I didn't stop until I had made it back to the car we had rented for our stay on the Citadel. Hastily sliding into the seat, I dropped my head into my hands.

I loved Shepard, and I wanted everything she was offering me, but for some reason I continued to shy away from it. My instinct was to panic, and it made no sense. Our first night together on the Normandy I thought I had moved past all of these feelings. Then again, there was a very real possibility we weren't going to be alive the next day. Now, with the future so very open before me, talking about bonding and kids just scared me to death. I didn't know how to do relationships, not to mention marriage. I could be a terrible wife. Goddess, I definitely didn't know how to be a mother. Oh, what if I turned out just like mine?

Shepard stepped gently into the driver's seat before looking down into her hands. Her face looked uncertain for the first time since I'd met her, and it made my chest ache. I reached over and grabbed one of her hands, pressing my lips to her knuckles.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"No, no, it's my fault. I knew you weren't ready yet. I'm sorry," Shepard said earnestly, looking up to catch my eyes.

"You do know I want all those things, right? I just...I just need time," I said, and then I panicked for a new reason when I looked over and realized a fourth of her life could already be over. I didn't have an abundance of time. Blast these stupid feelings.

Shepard just smiled at me, those perfect teeth showing beneath the lips I was addicted to.

"I'll wait, Liara," she said. "It's your choice."

Those words, I'll wait, Liara, bounced bitterly in my head now. Shepard was still waiting, and things were still balanced by my next choice.

I just can't, I thought angrily, blinking back sudden tears. Coming back now doesn't erase two years of pain. No matter how much I love her, Shepard is always going to leave, one way or another.

The memory of a perfect silver bondmate bracelet flashed across my mind, and I slammed my palm against my desk. The sting pulled me away from my self-loathing, but the action caused one of the datapads to go spinning towards the edge of the desk. I reached for it now, staring at the meager information my informants had dredged up on the Shadow Broker's location.

The mere thought of the Broker caused white hot anger to lance through my chest, but it was an emotion that was easy to welcome. Anger was good; anger was familiar. The Shadow Broker wouldn't be able to hide forever. Without distractions, I could make the Shadow Broker regret ever crossing me. He took Feron. He tried to give Shepard to the Collectors. The Collectors.

I took the datapad on the left, the one that read Elise Nissa across the top, and shoved it violently in my desk drawer.

I guess I made my choice.

XXX

Ashley

It was quiet. That was the reason I liked this bar: it was out of the way of usual traffic. The corners were occupied only by locals—and me. I had stumbled across it during one of my many shore leaves on the Citadel; it quickly became a favored haunt away from the noisy soldiers that dominated the bars near the docking bays. Today, however, I wished for the noise to take me from my thoughts in a way that alcohol could never manage. I needed distraction, not blurriness.

So I continued to nurse my first drink, shaking my head whenever the bartender asked if I wanted a refill. The turian working the counter had come to recognize me, by face if not by name, since I had never given it, and he seemed mildly perplexed by my unusual restraint. Maybe I was surprised myself.

I could see Shepard tomorrow.

I didn't really expect to. That Lawson character seemed more than capable of keeping me away from her, according to the limited information I was able to dredge up from the Alliance sources. I was a small fish, and I would never be given access to anything important. But what little I read was certainly telling. The woman was at least competent, and, at most, formidable. If Miranda Lawson wanted me away from Shepard, I rather think she would succeed. I was a soldier, unversed in the subtleties that might maneuver me around the Cerberus operative and gain access to the commander. Or perhaps I simply didn't want to know, didn't want to use the words I had rehearsed in my head for hours at a time, so I'd be prepared when I saw Shepard again. I was avoiding, in much the same way as Liara, I suspected. Some brave soldier I am.

This was why I needed the distraction, to make the voices quiet down. So many things vying for my attention, the stress, the worry, the guilt. I longed for the days when things had been simple, when I had been so far down in the chain of the Alliance that the most I'd had to worry about was the shit armor assigned to me on a planet I thought would never see action. Then I had met Commander Shepard, and, like so many others, she had pulled me up to her level so that I could never quite drop all the way down again. My name was known, and soon the promotions had just dropped in my lap. Because of her.

She would give me that look if she knew I was thinking like that. That stony stare that brokered no argument when she told me flat out that she did nothing, that it was my friendship that got her through everything anyway. She told me she needed me, that she couldn't have done it without me. It was probably a lie. She would have done it anyway.

It had been a long time since I had had a hero. They had always let me down, were never what they claimed to be. It was the same with Shepard, but it also wasn't. I had been disillusioned like the rest, believing the tales of heroism the Alliance liked to promote about its best soldiers. I had thought her perfect. Was I disappointed when I finally met her? I couldn't even remember; those days had flown by so fast. Then I was working with Shepard, and it was like I had known her my entire life. I realized those vids weren't even about the same person. My Shepard was real, flawed, and I trusted her.

I had trusted her, and then she was gone. She had reversed the Williams curse, had changed me with it, and none of it felt the same without her there. She was the center, the eye of the storm, rock steady in the face of opposition. I felt...uncertain sometimes without her guidance. Never would I have been given an 'off the books' assignment like this one now if not for Shepard. I used to have a clear chain of command. I followed orders, like a true soldier, like a Williams. Then I had been pulled out of it; I was still Alliance, but my chain had been broken and above me was only Shepard.

It had been strange, slipping back into the routine, the salutes, the different ranks displayed on different shoulders. Hints of rebellion would now slip into my thoughts when a superior gave an order I disagreed with. Time and again I saw the commander standing next to me with that cocked eyebrow and a smirk that meant she was mentally giving the finger to the asshole in front of her.

Would I go back to the life I had had before I met her? It had been simpler, but better? I wasn't sure. With every report back to Anderson, I felt more uncomfortable. He thought I was the best person for the job because of my connection with Shepard, thought I might be able to get close to her where others would fail. I would be able to see a difference in Shepard, if there was one to be seen, whereas Anderson was certain to only have a few short moments with the commander, not enough to evaluate anything except the most glaring changes in personality. But this assignment wasn't what I wanted. I missed being able to see my enemy and shoot it. There was no enemy here. Well, there was Cerberus. But they had put their logo on Shepard, and I couldn't find the will to truly despise her if she was the same underneath it.

Movement at the door drew my eyes up, the draft of the door opening stirring the stale air of the bar. I looked away from the light that flooded in with it, cursing the Citadel for the perpetual day. I had never really gotten used to the cycles of the Citadel when there was no night to call a halt to the activities. It made sense. Many of the species didn't even sleep the same amount, like how I would sleep eight hours when a salarian would sleep two. Plus with perpetual day, the commerce never stopped, convenient for the constant flow of ships in and out of the Citadel's docks. The Citadel was the center of everything, a heart that could never stop.

The man who stepped through the newly ajar door looked vaguely familiar to me, though I couldn't place why. He and the three other humans that trailed in his wake wore the same black and white uniforms, nondescript if it weren't for the various jackets worn over them. Each of them had chosen something to cover the torso of the uniform and I immediately tensed with suspicion. Had all the jackets been similar, or even the same color, maybe it would've passed my notice as just another strange happening that I had seen on the Citadel. However, one of the males was even wearing this gaudy red thing that had obviously not been made for him. It made it all the more obvious that it was worn to cover something.

I finally placed a name with the man I recognized, and found myself crossing the bar to join them at their table, certain my suspicions were about to be confirmed.

"Mills," I said, a certain amount of disgust filtering into my tone that I failed to suppress. The man in question looked up in surprise, his eyes shifting quickly to the door before coming back to her face. She didn't miss how his hands unconsciously reached up to clutch the lapels of his jacket closed, making sure the logo on his uniform was hidden.

"Chief Williams," the man returned, and to his credit, his voice remained steady. "I didn't expect to see you in a place like this."

I settled myself easily into the chair across from him, ignoring the worried and hostile looks I garnered from his companions.

"I rather think you were hoping to avoid any Alliance tonight," I shot back, leaning towards him, but he didn't flinch.

"That I was," Redmond Mills admitted. He shrugged before motioning to his attire. "Most of us didn't bother with civilian clothing. There is little room for personal effects as it is. I never imagined we would presume to boldly dock at the Citadel."

"She's here?" I asked, settling on the one simplest for Mills to answer instead of the millions tumbling around in my brain.

"Yes, though I believe she remained on the Normandy after giving the crew leave. I heard her tell Garrus that she wanted to get some rest before her meeting with the Council tomorrow," Mills offered the information easily. He said nothing of Shepard meeting with me tomorrow, but I expected that, either because the invitation hadn't been passed on to her, or because it was information Shepard was unlikely to share. I prickled a bit at his casual reference to Garrus, like the turian was just another part of life, easily working with Cerberus. I guess I hadn't expected Garrus to raise up a fuss; he likely didn't care as long as he was at Shepard's side to protect her. I may have been wary of him at first, but his loyalty had never been a question for me. I could at least admit I felt relieved that Shepard had him watching her back. Especially while I'm not, my traitorous mind added.

"I'd heard you left for Cerberus, Mills. I didn't want to believe it," I accused.

"Yes, yes I did. I freely admit it, and I regret nothing," he threw back, cheeks coloring slightly in anger.

"Why?" I asked, my voice coming out a little louder than I wanted. I hadn't intended to get into this argument when I had initially decided to speak with him. "You were Alliance like the rest of us."

"Look, ask anyone who's joined Cerberus, and almost all of them will give you a good reason why they're there. You want to know why I left the Alliance? Someone approached me and offered the funds to pay for my daughter's treatment bills. I'd been struggling to pay for over a year; soon I wouldn't even be able to give her basic care. Jenny was going to die, Williams. They gave me the solution: I work for them, and Jenny gets everything she needs," Redmond Mills explained heatedly.

"And after? Once she was fine?" I shot back.

Redmond heaved out a sigh. "Williams, I'm not naive. I know Cerberus has done horrible things. I realize, even though Jenny's treatments are done, that the option for me to leave will never come. But where would I have gone anyway? The Alliance never would have taken me back, something I'm sure Shepard will discover tomorrow as well," he said pointedly, his expression all at once sympathetic to his commander and antagonistic to me. "The thing is that they never asked me to betray the Alliance, never asked for secrets. They've done bad things, sure. But they've done some good too. My daughter is alive. And so is Shepard, and we're going to save those colonists, too."

I deflated quickly, shoulders relaxing as I fell into a chair next to her. I motioned for the bartender to bring a round over, and the Cerberus crew that had been cautiously watching me gave some nods of thanks. When they were occupied in their own conversations, I turned back to Redmond.

"Do you remember who approached you, who recruited you?" I asked in a low voice.

Redmond looked surprised at the question, but gave an easy shrug. I waited for him to say the name, almost positive it would be one Miranda Lawson. Good, I wanted another reason to hate her. Though technically her actions saved his daughter. No. Hate, focus on that. I was so convinced of what the answer would be that his actual answer didn't even sound like words when a different name passed his lips.

"I'm sorry, what?" I fumbled.

"Elise Nissa. Or at least that's the name she gave me. I recognized her, though I couldn't tell you what her Alliance rank had been," he repeated.

The name was familiar, like I had heard it before. It's placement danced just out of reach, and I'm sure I looked pained in my effort to remember.

"Shouldn't that be a secret or something? I thought I'd have to convince you more," I stated suspiciously.

"It's not really sharing secrets about Cerberus personnel when the woman is dead," Redmond answered easily.

It was then that the last detail clicked into place, and I knew, I remembered exactly where I had heard that name before, though I didn't want to believe it. Storming out of the bar, I stumbled through the streets of the Citadel as I attempted to get to my quarters before everything hit me.

I knew the name because Shepard told it to me. Elise Nissa had been her fiance, before she died. Before Elise died in a thresher maw attack that had been orchestrated by Cerberus. Had Shepard known? Had she been with Cerberus all along? Maybe Shepard had hated Cerberus, not because they killed Elise and her squad on Akuze, but because they betrayed Shepard personally as well. It would also explain why they would be the ones to bring her back, to bring her back into their service.

These are just wild imaginings, Williams. Get it together. Shepard wouldn't do that. God, I hope not.

My dash down the streets of the ward brought me past the glittering lights of the stores, neon signs trying to urge me inside. Instead, I kept my head down, desperate to get away from all of the people. There just wasn't any solitude on the Citadel.

Suddenly, I caught a familiar grey fringe at the corner of my eyes and paused, incredulously, at the sight of Garrus holding a shirt to his armor-covered chest. He seemed to be trying to estimate where the sides of his body actually were under all the layers, and he was obviously failing, if his huff of frustration was any indication.

Much as I longed to continue, I couldn't ignore the golden opportunity in front of me. I might not be able to talk to Shepard, but Garrus was the next best thing. Besides, if there was one turian in the galaxy that I might possibly like, it was Garrus. Maybe. And I'd sure as hell never tell him that.

"That one will fit you," I said, sidling up to the turian in question. If Garrus was surprised to see me, he didn't show it, choosing to level a look at me before turning back to examine the tag of the shirt.

"How do you know?" he asked, and his mandibles twitched. Was that how turians frowned or something? Was I supposed to know that?

"You sent a requisition back on the Normandy SR-1 for clothing from that brand. You never requested another size after receiving the articles, so I assume you got the size right the first time," I explained, motioning to the shirt he was still turning over in his hands.

"You remember that? When I don't? I don't know if I should find that amazing or...disturbing," Garrus hummed, examining me curiously.

"I was observant. And, uh, rather suspicious," I said, barely holding my face straight. I wanted to smile at him. Maybe I wanted to hug him? No, that would be too much, and I'd be instantly uncomfortable. But just hearing him again reminded me of the days when he had persistently bugged me until I had been drawn, reluctantly, into conversation. Eventually, I was joining in on the banter just like everyone else, even with the turian. I'm not sure who I surprised more: myself or, er, well, just myself. Liara looked pretty shocked one time too.

Garrus just laughed, eventually throwing the shirt over his arm and grabbing a few others in a different color before moving over to the pants section. I followed, feeling a bit like a lost puppy and definitely at a loss for words. Shrewd blue eyes looked back at me curiously, and I sighed.

"It's been awhile," I tried, instantly wanting to slap myself. Small talk, really? You fought Saren and a Reaper with this guy, Williams. Get it together. Garrus nodded, but chuckled, continuing to face away from me while he purused. Why did I get the feeling like he was some wise guru waiting for a me to speak? Or maybe a hunter waiting for his prey to take a tentative step forward? You know what? You should just stop right there.

"Is...Is Shepard alright, Garrus?" I stuttered, grimacing at how weak my words sounded.

"It sounds surprising, but...yes. I'd say she's doing just fine, all things considered," Garrus replied. He pulled a black pair of pants off a hanger and threw them on his arm with the shirts.

"I'm supposed to meet with her tomorrow. Maybe. I invited her anyway," I admitted, but Garrus just looked surprised. But then his brow furrowed and he looked mostly frustrated.

"I haven't heard Shepard mention it, honestly. I would imagine it didn't get to her," he mused, somewhat angrily, before he shook his head and sighed, "It's probably not a good idea for you to see her anyway."

My eyebrows show up. "Excuse me? What?" I exclaimed.

"It's just...Shepard has been so different these past few weeks, and I don't think it would be good for her to see you. She's different but still the same; I don't know how to explain it. I haven't talked to her about it, but I think it's because she finally feels free. I feel free anyway," Garrus said, struggling to find the words. "You remember what it was like before. She was always fighting the rules; there was someone always telling her she couldn't do it her way. Shepard doesn't like Cerberus, sure, but they at least gave her a ship and said, 'do it' without any strings attached."

"But Shepard was born for the Alliance. I just don't see how she could turn her back like that, not unless…" I trailed off as my brain filled in unless she's been a traitor this whole time.

"We both know Shepard can do great things. That doesn't mean she has to do anything with the Alliance. They left her. We all left her. And Cerberus gave her back. Now we're the only ones doing anything about those colonists. We will get justice for them," Garrus growled vehemently.

I took a step back, and tension seemed to fall out of my shoulders with my resignation. Hearing Garrus talk about Shepard so passionately made my concerns about her loyalties seem so trivial.

"I just want to see her Garrus. If you say she's still our Shepard, I'll believe you. That's what I'll put in my report. But I'm only asking for a few minutes. She was my friend," I sighed. "I just want to see her for myself."

Garrus relaxed, bringing the back of a taloned hand to rub at his forehead in defeat.

"She's never going to show up to wherever you invited her. Miranda must have kept the message from her or Shepard wouldn't have planned to meet a potential team recruit in the morning," the turian explained. "But she'll be meeting the Council at 10 GST. I'll see if I can get her there a little early."

I resisted another urge to hug him. "Thanks, Garrus, I owe you," I promised.

"Yeah, yeah. Now, tell me the truth," he said, holding up a pair of red pants, "do these remind you of Wrex? Because I don't think I could pull that look off."

"Probably don't even chance it. You're already halfway there with that scar on your face," I joked.

"And here I thought you hadn't even noticed," Garrus hummed, carefully maneuvering the scarlet pants back onto the hanger.

"It's like half of your face," I stated seriously.

He looked shocked, eyes wide as he looked at me, before his teeth bared out in a smile followed by a hoarse chuckle. I wheezed out a strangled cough when his hand thumped against my back, a little harder than what I'd consider a friendly tap, but he just laughed again, this time a little happier.

"It's good to see you again, Williams," he said.

Wow, sorry for the wait everyone. While I planned for this chapter to follow quickly after Ch. 9, I never anticipated how much of it I would rewrite. It is very much different from the first draft, but so much better. How are the Liara lovers hanging in there? Doing alright? Hang on to your pants because it'll get worse before it gets better.

Thanks, of course, to everyone who has fav'd, followed or reviewed! And a special thank you to my beta Ablated Crayon, who sticks with me through all my nonsense. I'd love to hear from everyone, so tell me what you think!