Chapter Fifteen
The Joys of Adult Entertainment
Ysaan, Rannoch
Although she had dozens of pressing duties, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy had spent an entirely unproductive hour reflecting on the intricacies of Quarian naming conventions. Rather than a datapad or a haptic interface, her tools were the arid soil of Rannoch at her feet and a simple dried twig as she scrawled her name in all its various incarnations. The words in the soil emerged as a life history of sorts, charting the experiences of her young life through the ships on which she had served. Even as she studied at the latest incarnation – Tali'Zorah vas Normandy nar Rayya – she had to sadly acknowledge that it was no longer her name. The Normandy had ceased to be her home when she and Garrus had abandoned Ashley to return to Rannoch. Tali sighed and shook her head. She knew she had to stop using the term 'abandoned' and instead remind herself that Rannoch was where her true duty lay. However, no matter how many times she told herself that her time on the Normandy had only ever been a diversion, or the indulgences of youth, it was not enough. The Normandy had been her home. The crew – in all its incarnations - were her family.
Tali remembered the intimacy of the old SR-1. After having spent her young life aboard the crowded vessels of the Migrant Fleet, the frigate had at first seemed abnormally quiet and deserted. However, after accidentally bumping into Garrus too many times to maintain sanity, Tali had learned that there were not nearly enough places to hide. Although four years was hardly any amount of time to have passed, they had all seemed so much younger. She remembered how shy and nervous Liara had been - almost a different asari altogether from the serious, driven individual the Normandy had rescued from Mars. Even Shepard herself had still been unsure of herself, still coming to terms with command of a starship. She had taken to the role as though she was born for it, but along the way she found time to laugh often.
In contrast the Cerberus built SR-2 had been the embodiment of luxury. As reprehensible as Cerberus were as an organisation, Tali could not fault their ability to design and construct crew-friendly starships. The amount of space was fortuitous as the ship had become the flying poster-child for inter-species relations – packed to the gunnels with eclectic individuals who ranged from criminals to highly trained assassins. Discipline had only ever been half-hearted, despite Miranda Lawson's strenuous efforts. With the threat of a messy death hanging over the crew's heads at every turn, the SR-2 had been a volatile microcosm of society. There had been sex – (Tali doubted whether anyone didn't know about Shepard and Miranda), an abundant amount of drunkenness (she herself had been guilty on several occasions), and confrontations which had the potential to tear the ship apart (Miranda again! Her fight with Jack had reverberated throughout the lower decks).
Even when the ship had been under the nominal command of the Alliance (Tali always thought of it as simply Shepard's command), nonhuman races had been welcome both as part of the crew and as temporary guests. Tali had spent several surprisingly pleasant days catching trading war stories with Wrex. She counted several of the Alliance crewmembers among her closest friends.
Now she was forced to look back on those days. They were behind her. Tali scrubbed at the soil with the toe of her boot, erasing Normandy from her name. Instead she scribbled Tali'Zorah vas Rannoch. It did not look right. Although Rannoch was her home world and she felt blessed to be part of the generation who won it back, it was not an appropriate name. She erased this latest incarnation and tried a different approach. Tali leaned back and admired her handiwork - `Tali'Zorah Vakarian.'
"Quarian conventions be damned," she announced emphatically to herself. Her words were punctuated with a very violent sneeze. She had been suffering a permanent cold since their arrival, mostly due to her insistence on taking her mask off at every available opportunity. Tali could feel her nose running behind her mask and her suit scrubbers working hard to wick away the moisture. "Bosh'tet!"
With a sudden impulsive determination, Tali leaned forward and released the seals of her right boot. She ignored the resulting warning lights flashing on her omni-tool as she stripped the boot off and the suit resealed itself around her calf muscles. With her pale foot bared to the elements of Rannoch for the first time, she left it poised above the soil. Only in her wildest dreams had she imagined how it would feel to feel actual dirt against her skin and squeeze it between her toes. She started to lower her foot.
"Tali! What in blazes are you doing?"
With the sole of her foot still inches from touching the ground, Tali whirled around to find Garrus sprinting toward her. Before she could utter a word of protest he swept her from the rock on which she was sitting and up into his arms. Despite the frenetic movement, she was acutely aware of the very visible scrawl in the dirt at their feet - her name linked with Garrus's in ways they had never discussed.
"I wasn't actually going to touch the ground," she protested. Although she was slightly indignant at being hauled into her partner's arms, it was difficult to ignore the way it made it her feel. Garrus had swept her up so effortlessly and was holding her as though she was fragile. The scarred Turian would have been the last person to call her that, but she found herself enjoying the attention. "It was just the idea that I could touch the ground, if I wanted to."
"You could touch the ground," Garrus agreed. "But that doesn't mean you should. Have you ever had actual dirt in contact with your skin before? Do you know what will happen?"
"Well…no," Tali was forced to admit.
"Precisely. And we're not going to find out. Not today, not for a long time. I'll touch the dirt and describe it in detail for you," Garrus offered as he began carrying her back to the prefab which was their home. "Although having dirt under your talons? Not all that pleasant."
"You're really sweet. You know that?" Tali grinned even though he could not see it behind her mask. She had opted not to wear her new transparent one due to her red, puffy eyes and the copious amount of liquid streaming from her nose.
"I am not. Take that back," he demanded. "Besides, you might want to come in anyway. A new message has just come through from Traynor."
Tali uttered a small whoop of delight. "She better have included all the gossip on the new crewmembers or else!"
"Sterilisation first, then message," Garrus said, casting a wary glance down to Tali's bare foot protruding out in front of them both. He idly wondered if she was ticklish on the soles of her feet and grinned at the thought of her shrieking in response.
"Who made you boss?" Tali grumped.
"You did," Garrus replied with a shrug. His grin broadened. "Tali'Zorah Vakarian."
Melbourne, Australia
"Cortez, this is ridiculous!" Sam Traynor protested as the burly Lieutenant dragged her bodily into the Normandy's elevator. "My duty shift doesn't start for another hour. If Commander Williams wants to see me, she can bloody well summon me herself over the comm. I certainly don't need to be dragged up to the CIC as though I've done something wrong!"
With the door to the elevator closed and her escape route cut off, Cortez finally relinquished his gentle hold on her upper arm. Sam stalked off into the opposite corner and folded her arms across her chest as she glared at her supposed friend.
Cortez raised one eyebrow rakishly. "Don't act all innocent with me, Samantha. I know precisely why you've been booking so much time in the observation lounge this week. I hope you remembered to close the shutters – we are in port after all."
Sam's jaw dropped as her cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Of course I remembered to close – wait…why are we even having this discussion?"
"To prove that you, Sam Traynor, are just a little bit naughty," Cortez replied.
"We are not having this conversation," Sam announced with finality. She moved to stand directly in front of the doors so she could escape Cortez's company as soon as possible.
"C'mon, Sam. It's just porn – you were watching porn right?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations," Sam muttered.
"I'm not accusing you of anything!" Cortez protested good-humouredly. "It's a good thing. Hell, I've watched enough over the past six months. It's healthy-"
"I don't know what you're trying to do, Steve," Sam interrupted. "Because if you're trying to make me feel better or have a sensible conversation then you're failing miserably. Just stop it."
With a foul expression cemented on her face as the doors opened, Sam was unexpectedly greeted by a small crowd of crewmembers. Her fury turned to shock as she tried to take in the eager faces who were obviously all focused on her. Unused to being the centre of attention, she tried to backtrack into the elevator. Cortez was on hand to prod her forward.
Standing at the head of a familiar group of faces – Joker, Westmoreland, Campbell, Donnelly, and Daniels amongst others – was Ashley Williams. Although Sam was still in a state of confused shock, she did note that the Commander was actually smiling for the first time in days.
"Steve," Sam hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "Everyone is looking at me!"
"Crew, attention!" Ashley suddenly barked.
Sam jumped as the assembled personnel suddenly transformed from the lax manner they had become accustomed to over the past week into an approximation of highly disciplined sailors. Even Joker attempted to stand a little straighter, his image ruined by the wink he flashed in her direction. She remained fixed to the spot, hesitant to step into the middle of something that looked like trouble.
"I haven't got all day, Traynor," Ashley said impatiently. "Get your ass over here."
It was only when Sam approached that she saw the small box clutched in the Commander's hand. As she finally appreciated exactly what was happening, her nerves increased tenfold even though she was merely in the midst of her crewmates. When she stopped in front of Ashley, she realised that she was actually trembling with a combination of anticipation and nerves.
"I don't know why the hell it took them so long, but your promotion has come through," Ashley said, lowering her voice so she was speaking just to Sam. Without further ceremony, she withdrew the small collar device out of its box and proceeded to pin it onto Sam's uniform. "Congratulations, Operations Chief Traynor."
"Chief Traynor?" Sam murmured as Ashley stepped back to admire her handiwork. "There are responsibilities that come with that aren't there?"
"Damn straight, you're not going to be able to hide behind that console of yours any longer," Ashley informed her bluntly. "There's real work to be done. Do you want me to take that badge back?"
Even though she knew the offer wasn't actually a serious option, Sam wistfully considered this suggestion. Her console was a duty she understood and an environment that she had control over. To contemplate other duties seemed a terrifying prospect. Still, 'Ops Chief Traynor' had a damn good ring to it. Chief Traynor, Sam mused internally, trying to keep a straight face. What's up, OC? Nothing much, just wearing my new badge, being a Chief and all that. Shit, does this mean I have to improve my field skills?
"No, ma'am," Sam eventually replied with a decisive shake of her head. Regardless of whether she had to learn to shoot straight, she wanted the promotion. "Thank you, Commander."
"Your parents would have been damn proud," Ashley said quietly.
Sam lifted her hand to her collar and ran her fingers tentatively over the metal device. "Surprised mostly," she said knowingly. "But yes."
The crew then uniformly snapped into a salute upon Ashley's command. As soon as their hands dropped back to their sides, the formal ceremony was over and they swarmed forward to congratulate the Normandy's newest warrant officer. Although Sam was grateful to receive their well-meaning words, she was slightly overwhelmed. When they began filtering back to their duties, she breathed a sigh of relief that she was out of the spotlight.
"I'm sorry about the pretence, Traynor," Cortez offered. He was one of the last to leave. "The Commander said to make it convincing."
"So you took her literally?" Sam replied. "I think I have marks on my arm in the exact shape of your fingers."
"So the hard-working Comms Specialist finally gets her dues," Grenier added.
Sam had not even realised that the XO had been a party to the ceremony until he stepped forward. No doubt he had not wanted to intrude on the old guard. Although Grenier had been on the ship for less than a day, he already seemed to be well-liked by both the old crew and the new. Following their first briefing, even Commander Williams had given him a temporary seal of approval - with her final decision pending until she saw him in action. Although a part of Sam still wanted to dislike the LC for the embarrassing misunderstanding between them, she could not find fault with him. Grenier was aggravatingly perfect. Even Cortez, who was usually difficult to win over, thought that the new XO was 'a good sort.'
Although Sam had dimly been aware of EDI announcing a new shore party coming aboard, she had dismissed it as further Normandy crewmembers returning to the ship. It was only when she turned and saw an unfamiliar servicewoman approaching the Commander that she paid any attention. The newcomer was wearing the uniform of a medical technician.
"Permission to come aboard, ma'am?" she said as she snapped to attention in front of Ashley
"Who the bloody hell is that?" Sam hissed to Cortez.
The slender, dark-haired young woman was striking - in the prim, extremely well-groomed manner of someone who looked as though they had never put a toe out of place in their life. Not a stereotypical marine. Sam couldn't stop staring.
"Permission granted," Ashley replied formally. Her face suddenly cracked into a broad grin. "Hey, little sis."
Sam's expression shifted to one of horror when she realised that she had been openly leering at none other than Sarah Williams, Ashley's youngest sister. As Ashley tucked Sarah into a warm embrace, she tried to find a rapid means of retreat from the scene of her crime.
"Hey, let me introduce you to some of Normandy's crew." It was already too late. Ashley turned toward the trio and Sam had to abort. "Lieutenant Cortez…Lieutenant-Commander Grenier, and Ops Chief Traynor. This is my baby sister, Sarah. She'll be hitching a ride with us to her new post so I want you all to be on your best behaviour."
"Ash!" Sarah protested. "You needed to stop calling me that ten years ago." The young woman stepped out of her older sister's shadow and shook their hands in turn. She smiled warmly when she came to Sam. "It's Sam right? Ash has told me an awful lot about you in her letters."
"All good I hope!" Sam squeaked, hoping that Sarah did not notice her suddenly sweaty palm.
"Reading between the lines, I think you're the brains behind the ship." Sarah leaned forward conspiratorially. "Which is good, because my big sister isn't exactly the sharpest...well, you know what they say about marines."
No, I don't, Sam thought, absently wondering if Sarah might be able to enlighten her in private.
"Come on...before you embarrass the hell out of me." Ashley prodded her sister toward the elevator. "Let's get your gear stowed and let these sailors get back to their jobs."
Although Sam was doing her best not to stare at Sarah Williams, she reasoned that no harm could come from it so long as Ashley did not catch her. However, it also meant that she clearly saw Sarah cast a quick, almost eager, glance over her shoulder. Despite her wishful thinking, it was not directed at her. Sarah's glance was directed at Leon Grenier. Sam glared across at the XO. Judging by the pleased expression on his face, Leon had definitely noticed the glance as well.
Sam scowled. Bloody perfect twat!
It was indescribably weird to have one of her sisters on board the Normandy. Ash had to pinch herself as she dumped Sarah's duffel bag on her bed. She turned back to face her youngest sister and couldn't suppress the grin that followed. To see her looking so happy and healthy, it was more than reward enough for the shit she'd had to put up with over the past several days.
"You weren't exaggerating when you said how amazing the Normandy is," Sarah exclaimed as she took a seat. "Your cabin is bigger than the entire med bay we had on the Cambrai. Plus, you have an extremely good-looking crew."
"Who's good looking?" Ashley asked in a suspicious voice.
Sarah grinned. "Come on, Ash. As far as I know you still like guys as well as you like girls. Don't tell me you haven't noticed your XO – he's-"
"A marine!" Ash interrupted sternly. "And an officer!"
"I forgot how boring you can be," Sarah replied. "A girl's allowed to look isn't she? Or is that against regulations too?"
Ashley uttered a small sigh as she folded herself down next to her sister. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I guess…I suppose Grenier is easy on the eye. I hadn't really noticed…"
"Because you're already in love," Sarah finished. She tucked herself against Ashley's body, much as she had done as a child. "It's been over eight months since Tom died. I didn't think I was ready to throw myself back out there until I realised just how happy you are with Miranda. I'm sorry I didn't get to meet her."
"Yeah, so was she," Ashley said regretfully. "Apparently she trounced Lynn at Scrabble."
"I would've loved to have seen that!" Sarah laughed. As they sat in comfortable silence for a moment, she reached into the pocket of her uniform. "I've been carrying this around with me for a long time. I think you need to have it." Sarah passed Ashley a small velvet bag done up with a drawstring. "You never know, you might have cause to use it in the near future."
Ash didn't need to open the bag to know exactly what it was. "Mom's wedding ring." She fingered the small band through the bag. "I still don't understand why you refused to use it."
"Because it should go to you," Sarah said emphatically.
A sharp laugh escaped Ashley's lips. "Sis, I haven't the first clue as to how to ask someone like Miranda to marry me. Besides, it's only been a matter of months. We've talked about spending our lives together, but marriage is an entirely different ballgame."
Sarah folded her hands over Ashley's, trapping the ring in her fist. "Keep the ring. It can't do any harm can it?"
"I suppose not." Ash felt an inexplicable thrill course through her body. "Thanks, little monster."
"Don't mention it," Sarah said as she rose gracefully to her feet. "Now are you going to invite me for something to eat in your mess…possibly via the CIC if Lieutenant-Commander Grenier is on duty?"
Lanzhou, China
Shepard tugged the leather jacket on over her shoulders. Even padded out with a hoodie beneath, it still managed to hang loosely on her frame. When she turned and studied her entire ensemble in the wall mirror, she barely recognised herself. It wasn't just that the clothes were borrowed from Miranda, she was so used to wearing variations on a military uniform that the civilian attire felt wrong on every level. With her hair twisted up into a rough ponytail, she had never looked less like a marine – at least not since she was in high school. The sole warning she had before someone else joined her in the room were a few footsteps.
With barely enough warning to turn away from the mirror, Shepard was caught with a thoroughly unearned guilty expression on her face. As she composed herself she knew she ought not to be surprised. Miranda had always viewed knocking on doors as an inconvenience.
"I see everything fits," Miranda Lawson announced as she looked Shepard up and down. While the clothes managed to stay on Shepard's slight frame, they were baggy in ways they were not intended to be. "After a fashion."
Shepard nodded as she took a seat so she could tug the knee-high boots on. "They do. Thank you. I can't say when you'll be getting them back however."
Miranda responded with a noncommittal shrug. Shepard's laborious attempts to don her footwear soon drove an exasperated sigh from her lips. She closed the distance between them and hunkered down in front of her former CO. Shepard was still struggling with the fastenings when she gently swatted her hands away. Having long since realised the futility of arguing with Miranda, Shepard simply let her take over.
As she watched Miranda work, quickly and efficiently even though one arm barely functioned, Shepard realised that the other woman had also changed. Although there were few differences in her physical appearance save for a more utilitarian approach to fashion, it was in her underlying attitude that the real difference lay. For the first time she noticed an air of humility – a trait she never thought she would associate with Miranda Lawson. Shepard knew that it was only evident because her guard was down in the company of a friend, but it surprised her nevertheless. It took her a lot longer to realise that the idea of leaving Miranda behind when she fled to Omega felt wrong on a number of levels.
After masking the worst of her struggles as a result of her injured arm, Miranda finished with the bindings. She tapped her knuckles against Shepard's leather-clad shin. "You're good to go."
"You should come with us," Shepard announced suddenly.
The marine Lieutenant glanced upward. Her blue eyes had widened somewhat in surprise by the time she rose back to standing. Miranda shook her head emphatically. "You know I can't-"
"I know you, Miranda," Shepard interrupted. "And I know you took every precaution to safeguard yourself when you agreed to help Liara, but we both know what the Alliance is capable of. If they find out that you helped me escape then they won't arrest you and put you on trial. They'll execute you," Shepard explained in a serious voice. She stood to further emphasise her point. "And you're planning on marching straight back to your post as though you spent your leave playing scrabble."
A small smirk escaped Miranda's irritation. "You still don't know what scrabble is."
"Anything is less life-threatening than helping break someone out of a high security facility," Shepard protested.
The smirk remained fixed on Miranda's face. "If I recall correctly, you broke yourself out of that facility, Shepard. We merely offered a helping hand."
Shepard uttered an exasperated grunt. "Stop it."
"Stop what?" Miranda asked with an arched eyebrow. "Arguing semantics?"
"Wha…I don't know what that means," Shepard muttered irritably. She made a dismissive motion with her right hand. "Stop…whatever it is you're doing to piss me off and avoid the point I'm trying to make. You're putting yourself in the firing line"
"You were right," Miranda admitted with a sigh. She paused for effect. "Playing scrabble with you would be painful."
"Miranda!" Shepard growled, remembering precisely how exasperating it had been to have the woman serving under her command.
"Fine, I do care about you!" Miranda suddenly snapped in reply, her tone equally as vehement. When she paused again, it was to calm her rapid breathing. "In the moment that Liara told me that you were alive I know that nothing would stop me from helping her to get you out of that nightmare. Not my obligations to the Alliance…or even my relationship with Ashley." She turned her back on Shepard to avoid meeting her eyes. As Miranda dragged her hand through her hair, she tried to talk herself out of admitting the one facet of their relationship that she had managed to keep from Shepard. She shook her head in disbelief. "I love her…" The words were followed by a deep breath. "But I loved you first."
Shepard's jaw slowly fell open. "Miranda…I-I…"
"Don't say a fucking thing." Miranda acted quickly to fill the awkward silence. "It's not necessary. You've got your asari, I've got Ash, and we're both as happy as we can be in this fucked up world." She lowered her gaze and studied the worn tiled floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Wipe that smug expression off your damn face, Shepard."
"I haven't-"
She barely had time to start her sentence before Miranda spun on her heels and closed the distance between them. With an almost furtive movement, Miranda cupped the back of Shepard's neck with her uninjured hand and pressed their foreheads together.
As soon as Shepard felt Miranda's breath on her lips, the memories of their brief time together came flooding back to her. She tried to swallow but her throat was dry. It would have been effortless to close the gap and descend into a heated kiss.
"Another time," Miranda whispered. "Another life." When the electricity between the two of them reached its zenith, she released her hold on Shepard's neck and stepped away just as suddenly. She regarded her with an indecipherable stare. "Be careful, Shepard. Omega was never the friendliest place to begin with, and I don't trust T'Loak one iota – regardless of whatever debt she owes Liara."
Shepard was still trying to process everything that had passed between them. It was apparent that her mind did not work as quickly as Miranda's. "Um, Aria…right. I know I can't trust her, but at least there's no Systems Alliance on Omega," Shepard reminded Miranda. Her expression softened. "You however…you're staying in the middle of the hornet's nest. You need to take care of yourself…you dumb grunt."
With the tension between them easing, Miranda arched her eyebrow warningly in response to Shepard's jibe. Her eyebrows suddenly lifted as she remembered something. She reached into one of her coat pockets and withdrew a small pair of black gloves. "I thought you might appreciate these…to hide your hand."
Shepard accepted them with a grateful smile. However before she could open her mouth to offer her thanks, Liara and Mack walked into the room. Miranda took another discrete step away from Shepard. If either Liara or Mack noticed anything amiss, they did not reveal it.
"Our transport is here," Liara announced in a calm, almost tentative voice. "Are you ready to leave?"
Having absolutely no possessions other than the borrowed clothes on her back, Shepard nodded. "I'm ready."
She tried to share one last glance with Miranda, but the raven-haired woman was stubbornly avoiding her gaze. With their goodbyes already said, Shepard allowed Mack to wrap an arm around her waist and lead her from the room. She overheard the start of a conversation between Liara and Miranda, and clearly picked up on the discomfort in the human's voice. It faded the further Mack led her down the corridor, and was quickly replaced by a more pressing concern. A noticeably anxious Hannah Shepard was waiting for her near the exit. Her hands were clasped, white-knuckled, in front of her. Tendrils of anger awakened almost immediately. Shepard felt her brow furrow and her jaw tighten in response at just the sight of the woman. She contemplated asking Mack to tell her to leave so she would not have to endure the awkward moment.
Mack felt the young woman's body stiffen at the sight of Hannah. While the elder Shepard had mentioned to him on several brief occasions that her relationship with her daughter was strained, it was not until witnessing it first-hand that he realised the severity. Although he knew emphatically that it was not his place to interfere, he also could not let them both suffer – not when so much had been lost already.
"She just wants to say goodbye, Commander," he offered quietly.
"I'm no Commander," Shepard replied in a taut voice. She was already tired after the emotional exchange with Miranda. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in tears in front of Hannah. "And I have nothing to say to that woman, not even goodbye."
A small sigh escaped Mack's lips. "Until you have kids of your own you won't understand the sacrifices a parent is willing to make. What I'd give to have even one moment back with my own daughter…well, there's nothing on earth that could make that happen, but you can do this for her."
The emotion coming from such a gruff voice surprised Shepard, but she did not offer a reply, not even to express her irritation at his interference in matters that were none of his business. Sacrifice – it was a word Shepard understood all too well in reference to both her own life and the lives of others. She had sent men and women under her command to their deaths, and she had given her own life to save others - in the latter case, more than was humanly possible. It seemed abhorrent at first to equate Hannah's sacrifices with her own, but Shepard forced herself to accept that she had given her everything. Even if I refuse to believe it, Shepard thought, asking herself whether there was anything Hannah could have done differently. She studied her blatantly as they neared, observing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the pallor to her cheeks. Shepard did not remember Hannah being anything other than an Alliance officer. She felt a stab of guilt knowing that the end of Hannah's long career was her fault.
Although Shepard willed Mack to keep walking as they moved past her, she was the one who made the conscious decision to stop. Her movement halted, but she could not bring herself to meet Hannah's gaze. A part of her knew that, if she looked at the woman, she would either slap her or throw her arms around her neck. In not knowing which reaction she would choose, Shepard avoided the temptation altogether.
"Promise you'll stay safe?" Hannah asked. The uncompromising voice that Shepard recognised from her childhood memories now sounded so uncertain.
"I can't make promises I can't keep," Shepard replied before pausing. Although she did not regret the blunt words, she suddenly found that she did not want to leave it at that. "But…you know I'm in good hands."
"The best." Hannah smiled tentatively in response. "I could not have wished for a better partner for my daughter. Liara is...she's very special. I love you, Evie."
Shepard suppressed the scowl with which she instinctively responded. Instead she swallowed the thick lump of pride in her throat. "Goodbye, Hannah," she said stiffly.
"Are you alright, Evan?"
Liara's voice. Her presence was welcomed immensely. Shepard breathed a sigh of relief that the awkward farewell was almost over. She nodded tersely and gratefully accepted Liara's arm in lieu of Mack's, even ignoring the stab of guilt she felt at the extent of physical contact with her bondmate. She remained hollow throughout Liara's tearful goodbye with Mack, instead willing the asari to hurry up so that she could escape Hannah's wounded gaze as quickly as possible.
Although a large part of Shepard did regret leaving Earth behind, the concealed journey to Lanzhou's small spaceport could not pass quickly enough. It had nothing to do with the danger they were in from possible discovery by the Alliance. Shepard had long since accepted that Liara's Shadow Broker network was a fearsome beast indeed, even as compromised as it was in the wake of the war. She had complete trust that her bondmate's arrangements would see them safely off Earth. Her apprehensions were caught up in a desperate need to escape what had happened to her at the hands of the Alliance. Shepard knew that she could run away from that trauma. It was simple, almost easy really. What had happened to her was reprehensible, but she could file it away in the same remote corner of her memory that held the screams from Akuze, the silence of being spaced, and the darkness within the Crucible. These corners were not inaccessible, as her breakdown on Tuchanka had proven, but for the most part she could manage them. What she was incapable of dealing with were Naomi Stone's accusations. They remained like a leaden weight on her shoulders, even after they made it without incident to the small, nondescript freighter flying Alliance colours.
As Earth fell away behind them, Shepard remained in their tiny cabin while Liara chose to watch the planet recede in the distance. Although she was grateful for the solitude, she felt the asari's absence keenly. She closed her eyes and attempted to dwell on what had been saved. Most of her friends and family had survived the war. While they were scattered across the Galaxy and still in the dark as to her survival, she could hold onto the hope of seeing them again. She even dared to grin as she imagined exactly what Ashley would say. You look like crap, Skipper. Even more tantalising was the faint promise of the vision that Liara had shared with her prior to entering the Crucible being fulfilled – children. A family. Howeve,r when she tried to find and hold onto that vision, she found it buried beneath images of what she had done to Stone.
What I might have done, Shepard tried to remind herself. What I might have done. Looking back, she was not proud of the woman her younger self had been. If she was truly being honest with herself, then it was not difficult to imagine herself pushing beyond the limits in the midst of the downward spiral she fell into after Akuze. If a woman had said no to her, would it have stopped her from taking what she wanted? What if Liara had said no to her? Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, seeking solace in the real memory of what had happened between them rather than some fiction.
Her eyes opened in tandem with the door. Liara stepped through and the cabin suddenly seemed too small to hold them both in comfortable silence. As though she was expecting trouble at a moment's notice, her bondmate was wearing an asari commando outfit - black with blue trim – beneath a black coat that swirled down around her knees. While Shepard had not thought to arm herself, she could see the bulge of a Carnifex at Liara's waist. Her entire persona was efficient and business-like. It was only when the door closed and her determined expression faltered that Shepard realised the immense strain Liara had been under. While most of their journey had passed in a hazy blur for her, Liara had obviously experienced every second in tense detail.
"How are we doing, Liara?" Shepard asked.
Liara deliberately chose to sit at the small table as opposed to the other end of the bed. "We have just passed through the Sol relay. I hesitate to...count our eggs before the chickens have laid them, but it would appear that the Alliance remained none the wiser throughout our departure."
"Thanks to you," Shepard pointed out, unable to resist a slight smirk at Liara's butchering of the human idiom.
The small curve to her lips was enough to ease the tension in the cabin. "I said it incorrectly?" Liara asked in response.
"It was close enough, baby," Shepard said.
The simple endearment slipped out naturally. Both noticed it immediately. Shepard bit her lip, while Liara ducked her head with twin spots of colour appearing in her cheeks. At any other time, Shepard would have teased her mercilessly and probably done something to enhance the colour even further. As it was, she drew her legs up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them to form an impromptu barrier.
Liara studied her human lover. Her body language made it clear that she was trying to protect herself. "We have a lengthy journey ahead of us with nothing but time," Liara ventured hesitantly. She still had the intention of practising patience, but she wanted to lay all of her own cards on the table. Whether or not Shepard chose to join in the game, was entirely up to her. "If you need to talk about what happened to…about anything, you know I am here for you."
"You don't even need to say those words, Liara," Shepard replied almost immediately. Her grip on her own legs tightened. "So…Omega?"
Liara was hit by a wave of disappointment when Shepard changed the subject. Guilt followed moments later. Although she had made herself promise that she would give Shepard time, the burning need to have her bondmate whole again was making the whole exercise torturous. Unable to force words out past the lump in her throat, she simply nodded.
"You know Aria hates my guts," Shepard pointed out unhelpfully. "The last time the Normandy docked at Omega, Samara and I destroyed three apartments fighting Morinth. I'm almost scared to ask, but what did you do for her that makes you so certain she'll welcome us with open arms?"
"Aria does not welcome anyone with open arms, but – to cut a long story short – I helped her take Omega back from Cerberus control," Liara replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "Apparently helping restore someone to their throne, even someone as self-sufficient as Aria, goes a long way toward making up for the wanton destruction of some property."
"You helped Aria retake Omega?" Shepard asked in disbelief, her eyes wide with unfeigned surprise.
"And that is surprising?" Liara asked, a chill creeping into her voice. "All it required was killing a large amount of people…and I am very good at killing."
Shepard had to suppress a shiver. It was almost a though a dark veil had slipped over Liara's beautiful features. You created her, deal with it, she reminded herself. "I know…and I'm sorry. I suppose I'm nervous about turning up on Aria's doorstep with nothing except my name, being entirely at her mercy. She was daunting enough when I had a military organisation behind me, now…"
"Oh, she will undoubtedly think that having you on Omega will give her some sort of leverage," Liara explained, effortlessly slipping into her Shadow Broker persona. "But you're not going to be at her mercy, Evan, not by any stretch of the imagination."
It was at that point that Shepard asked herself whether Aria T'Loak knew exactly what she was doing in inviting Liara into her domain. The thought and the palpable tension in the air were both banished a few seconds later when Liara's face softened. Shepard subconsciously lowered her defences, letting her arms fall and shifting so she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. In response, Liara eased her weary body out of the chair and made the two steps required to bring her to the side of the bed. She hesitated for a moment, remembering Shepard's terrified reaction to her earlier touch, before reaching out to cup her pale face in both hands.
"I will not allow anything to happen to you," Liara promised her before depositing a brief kiss on her forehead.
In response to the exquisite touch of Liara's lips on her skin, Shepard reached out to grasp the back of Liara's neck as she tilted her face upwards, seeking out more of that heat. A surprised gasp escaped Liara's lips in the moment before their lips met. The demons lingering at the back of Shepard's mind dictated that the kiss be brief, but the heated contact was more than enough for her body's previously dormant responses to kick in. When she pulled away, her breath was coming in light pants and she could felt a sharp knot of desire between her legs. For the first time since awakening beneath the streets of London, Shepard felt like a woman again – and the realisation terrified her. Liara slumped down onto the bed beside her and Shepard instinctively wrapped both her arms around her. As inadequate as her feeble embrace was, in that moment she needed to remind Liara that they were in this together.
"I promise we will talk," Shepard murmured, her lips moving against Liara's crests. "I'll tell you everything-"
"Evan, you do not need to make such a promise," Liara stressed, even as she allowed her body to mould against her lover's, folding her curves against Shepard's hollows and sharp, bony angles.
"I do," Shepard whispered in a hoarse voice. She felt her eyelids grow heavy as her weakened body betrayed her with exhaustion yet again. "Because I love you."
