A/N: I would like to reiterate that this fic is rated M for good reasons.
Ahem...onward...
Chapter Twenty-Four
Pink Knickers (aka Reconnection)
SSV Normandy SR-2
Other than the men's bathroom, the XO's quarters were the one place onboard the Normandy that Ashley Williams had spent very little time. She had little reason to. The quarters had obviously been off-limits during Liara's tenure to preserve the secrecy of the Shadow Broker network. Even though her new XO had been in the post for over a month, Ash avoided meeting with Grenier in his office. She knew full well that it was her subconscious fear that some sense of Miranda's presence would remain in the office. It was a ridiculous concern. Most of the interior had been stripped in order to shoehorn Liara's tech into the space. Ashley had caught glimpses of the banks of monitors and servers on occasion. Everything had been irretrievably wiped when Liara left the Normandy. The asari had excised all evidence of both the Broker's Network and her existence from the ship. The refit team had then stripped the tech and restored it to a functional Alliance standard.
The door slid open. As Ash crossed the threshold her gaze immediately went to Grenier seated on a low sofa much like the one in her own quarters. The bed remained at the rear, ostensibly unchanged from when the office had belonged to Miranda. Ash imagined the Cerberus Operative, as she would have been, lowering herself into bed at the end of a long shift. That image remained elusive, always on the edge of consciousness. She had only known that woman as a symbol. A focal point for her anger and frustration.
Ash taunted herself by wondering what choosing a different path would have meant for their relationship. Horizon could have been that turning point. If she had not thrown Shepard's offer to join the SR-2 back in her face would she have still found the courage to open up to Miranda? Or would any spark that lay between them have been quashed by loathing on her part and indifference on Miranda's. Ash gave it up as pointless speculation. And she was having difficulty concentrating on the time when she hated Miranda. The memories were there, but her mind stubbornly replaced them with pleasant ones.
She refocused her attention on Leon Grenier. Her XO was on his feet. An expectant expression on his face indicated that he had probably already offered a greeting while she was deep in thought.
"Have you got a moment, LC?" She injected some enthusiasm into her voice.
"Of course, ma'am," Grenier replied quickly. "Just reviewing crew rotas. Nothing that can't wait. Take a seat."
Ash passed him a datapad before she folded herself down onto the sofa. As her body relaxed, she realised that she had not sat down since eating a quick meal four hours ago. She watched Grenier's face as he studied the pad's contents. His brow furrowed thoughtfully at a few junctures, but at no point did he appear to balk. Eventually he set it aside and returned her gaze calmly.
"I take it this mission isn't exactly sanctioned by HQ?" he asked.
"Nope," Ashley replied bluntly. "It's a SpecTRe's prerogative. The Alliance has requested the Normandy's participation in a fly-past and parade on Elysium."
"And you'd rather be going toe-to-toe with mercs in the Terminus systems?" Grenier continued.
"They'd prefer to think of themselves as entrepreneurs." Ash scowled. "I think of them as scumbags. Whichever way you want to look at it, it's clearly a problem that needs to be solved."
Grenier nodded in agreement. His expression was tense. "A claim of an intact, weapons capable Reaper being offered to the highest bidder? Yes, I would agree that is a serious problem. But one for the Normandy? You and I both know that the Alliance has absolutely no influence in the Terminus at the present time. We'd be out there on our own."
"Not quite. I've got Council support on this one. The Normandy will be operating as part of a small, covert squadron whilst remaining under my command," Ash explained. "I'm filing a rough flight plan with HQ without giving away our exact destination or purpose. Somehow I think if the Alliance were to get wind of this, they'd want the tech for themselves. The Council feels as though it's a palpable threat and needs to be eliminated. I agree."
"So we're kind of like the mercs…only we're not getting paid and we're probably pissing off our actual employers."
The Captain cocked her head to one side. "Nervous, Leon?"
He suddenly offered a grin in response. "Nope…eager. When do we get started?"
The grin was infectious. Ash realised that she was in danger of becoming overzealous with her own enthusiasm. The reality of the situation was very serious. While intact Reaper technology was a common property, active Reaper technology was not. The pulse that had been emitted from the Crucible had rendered the massive ships nothing more than lifeless hulks. Most had been destroyed – either as a result of uncontrolled collisions or by trigger-happy Galactic forces seeking one final act of retribution against their foe. Ash did not even want to consider the possibility of something so potentially devastating falling into the wrong hands.
"We're already underway," Ash informed him. She had not come to ask Grenier's permission. The Normandy was her command. Her XO's approval however had been important. "A source has provided us with some useful intel regarding possible locations, I'd appreciate your help analysing it en route."
"I suppose this is the kind of source that cannot be revealed?" he asked out of curiosity.
Ash simply nodded. She wasn't about to tell him that the source had once inhabited the very same office in which they now sat. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. Grenier retrieved the datapad and was flicking through the material a second time. Although trying not to intrude on her XO's personal space, Ash could not help but notice an intimately familiar face peering back at her from a picture frame on the nearby desk. She would have recognised the picture in a heartbeat as she had the very same one stored on her omni. Sarah's smile beamed out at her. It was only a few months old. Taken during shore leave with Lynn and Abby, the Vancouver skyline in the background.
Leon chose that moment to look up. He caught his CO staring at the picture of her youngest sister and his face went a vibrant shade of red in response. It was much too late to do anything other than look sheepish beneath her withering glare.
"Why do I get the feeling that you enjoy making other people uncomfortable?" he asked in a brave effort to break the silence.
"Just men that want to date my sisters," Ash responded bluntly. However, as Grenier was beginning to squirm, she softened her expression, even needing to stifle a small smile. "Relax, Leon. The jury is still out but I'm pretty sure you're one of the good ones."
"Thank you, ma'am," Leon replied in a relieved voice. "I know it's not exactly going to be easy…nor is it exactly appropriate to date my CO's sister, but I like Sarah…a great deal. She's brilliant…ballsy-"
"You don't need to sell the whole thing to me, LC," Ashley interrupted. I know Sarah. I also know that I wouldn't have a chance in hell of changing her mind once it's set. Just call me Ash when we're in private though, for her sake."
He nodded. "Aye, aye…Ash."
She paused once outside his office. The kiss on Chasca had left her no doubt as to Sarah's feelings toward Leon, but a small part of her had hoped that it was nothing more than a fleeting rush of emotion. The picture on the desk meant otherwise. Ash envied the open display of affection. Her pictures of Miranda were encrypted on her omni-tool and her private terminal. While she was happy for Sarah, she was anxious at the prospect of sending her new lover into combat. Sarah had been devastated by Tom's death, Ash knew that she could not be responsible for the same happening to Leon.
For the time being she pushed her concerns to the back of her mind. Leon was her XO, it was easy enough to keep him safely on board the Normandy. Instead she turned her thoughts to the mercs in the Terminus Systems and the thrilling prospect of a hunt. As dangerous as it was likely to be, the mission was infinitely more exciting than any number of fly pasts on Elysium.
And it's going to piss Kessler off. That was a satisfying thought.
The atmosphere throughout the Normandy crackled with anticipation. Unlike the secrecy that had surrounded Horizon, the entire crew knew that they were headed toward the Terminus Systems. A few puerile grumblings about operating outside of the Alliance's remit had been quickly silenced by the old hands. Nostalgic expressions drifted onto crewmember's faces as they sensed a return to the freedom, or possibly the mortal peril, experienced under Shepard's command.
Even Sam had to admit that she was feeling a slight thrill in response. The lethargy that she had felt several weeks earlier had gone, replaced by a renewed dedication. A tiny corner at the back of her brain was reserved for imagining herself in the midst of a party of marines, Mattock blazing wildly in hand.
"Chief?" Sam looked up from her datapad to see Yeoman Clayton looking slightly nervous at his station. "We've got an incoming communication from Mindoir for Captain Williams, I thought you might want to intercept it as the signature is…a little odd."
Sam peered over his shoulder. "Who the bloody hell is Captain Zero? And how the hell did they get access to that channel?"
Clayton merely offered a noncommittal shrug as though saying she was the superior, it was her problem.
"Patch it through to terminal fourteen, I'll take it," Sam announced, pleased with herself for being so decisive. She also knew that Ashley would not appreciate having her time wasted by some small time Alliance bureaucrat on a colonial backwater.
As Sam settled into the chair at the vacant CIC station, she already knew that the communication was on a limited range channel. The Normandy was in the general vicinity of Mindoir, although several days out and headed in the wrong direction. Sam knew the call would be choppy at best. As she tugged on an ear piece, she tightened the beam as best she could.
"This is the SSV Normandy, go ahead."
There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line before a sudden shout pierced her eardrums. {Who the fucking hell is this?}
Sam was slightly taken aback. Her confidence was eroded in one fell, screeching swoop. "Um, I'm Special – I mean, I'm Ops Chief Samantha Traynor."
{Yeah, you got that right. You are fucking special,} was the cutting reply. {Get me Williams.}
"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry but Captain Williams is occupied," Sam managed something of an authoritative tone despite the fact that she was reeling. Sure this woman wasn't an actual captain in the Systems Alliance Navy? "I would be more than happy to take a message."
{Oh, you're terribly sorry?} The woman mocked Sam's accent mercilessly. {Listen to me you posh British bitch, just tell Williams that Jack wants to speak to her…now.}
Jack? The name sparked instant recognition. Even though they had never met, Sam now knew who she was speaking to. Captain Zero. Jack Zero. The infamous psychotic biotic. The Normandy crew members who had served under Cerberus colours still spoke of the petite woman with a mixture of fear and admiration.
{I got some shit to discuss,} Jack continued in an impatient voice. {Just tell her it's about the Cerberus cheerleader...shit, I mean Lawson.} She uttered the name as though it left a foul taste in her mouth.
"Miranda!" Sam couldn't help the exclamation. So far her subtle probes into Alliance service records had done little more than uncover the date Miranda had shipped out. "Do you know where she is? Is she alright?"
{I wish to fuck I didn't. Look, bitch, I don't know you from any other ass wiping Alliance fucker out there-}
"My name's Sam Traynor," the Ops Chief replied, trying to wrestle her irritation under control. She did not appreciate being called an 'ass wiper' in any sense of the word. "I served under Shepard during the war. Ashley and Miranda are my friends." Sam had absolutely no doubt as to the first assumption but she felt it might have been a stretch to label Miranda Lawson 'a friend' however. An acquaintance or object of lust was more appropriate. Regardless, she had listened to Ashley pessimistic comments a few days earlier. If this woman had the answers, then Sam wanted them. "You're the unknown quantity here, Jack."
{Well fuck me sideways,} Jack exclaimed in a surprised voice. {Posh girl's got balls after all. Okay listen up, Taylor-}
"It's Traynor!" Sam interrupted.
{Whatever, don't give a fuck, this is humiliating enough already. What if I told you I'm trying to get Williams a few minutes on the comm with her Cerberus girlfriend?}
"Miranda is no longer with Cerberus," was Sam's automatic response.
Jack's answering snort sounded loud and clear. {Please, bitch is always going to be Cerberus. Are you interested in helping me or do you not give a fuck either?}
"Hey, I give a fuck!" Sam replied quickly. She bit her lip when she realised how loud her voice was. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Clayton was giving her a strange look. "I'm in, just tell me what to do."
Mindoir, Attican Traverse
Miranda stared at the summons on her omni-tool with a measure of disgust. Answering one of Jack's demands was never high on her list of priorities, but a summons to the comm room heralded an intense anxiety. If it suited Jack to have her talk to someone, then Miranda guessed the purpose could be nothing good. Her thoughts immediately ran to Alliance HQ. An audible groan escaped her lips when Alves's name popped into her head. Miranda hated that particular Alliance captain with a passion - possibly even more than she hated Jack.
She was further confused when she entered the comms room to find the tech staring at her expectantly. "Just connecting your call now, ma'am," he informed her. "You should be live in a few moments."
Miranda frowned. "I haven't even requested a call." Personal use of the QEC was strictly allotted. Given how difficult it was to reach Ashley, she had not even attempted to reserve a slot for some time.
He offered an unenthusiastic grunt in response, something along the lines of 'just doing what I'm told and jerked his head toward the waiting QEC. The outdated technology was restricted to a small screen, and even that frequently didn't work. There was currently nothing other than a haze of lines scrawling across the screen. Miranda entered the small room and closed the door behind her. As she crossed to the console, the connection suddenly went green.
{This is Williams.}
A sudden shock buffeted Miranda like a scorching wind. The words were scant and curt but they held within them a thousand memories. Kisses. Languorous, sweaty caresses. An exquisite sigh of pleasure. Fingers filling her. A tongue lashing her swollen clit. The guttural scream ripped from the pit of her belly in response. Miranda's body answered the memories instinctively. Heat flooded her core. Her knees gave way and she sank heavily against the console with a sob frozen in her throat.
{I don't have all day over here.}
The blatant impatience in Ashley's voice suddenly amused Miranda. Anyone could have been on the other end of the comm. An admiral, the Council. Regardless, all her lover cared about was having her time wasted. Miranda desperately wanted to be on board the Normandy in that moment. She wanted the luxury to waste all the time in the world in Ash's arms.
She swallowed, moistening her throat. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."
{Miranda?} Ashley demanded in an incredulous tone. There was a pregnant pause. {For the love of god please say something else. Is it really you?}
"Of course it's me, babe," Miranda replied. The palpable desperation in Ashley's voice utterly shattered her fragile composure. The pent-up sob eventually escaped her lips. She pressed her fist to her mouth in an effort to prevent a complete breakdown.
{I am going to wring your scrawny little neck, Traynor.} Ashley clearly wasn't speaking to her at that moment. Despite her actual words, Miranda could hear the excitement in her voice. {I don't know how you did it, but thank you.}
Traynor's reply was indecipherable, but Miranda was grateful for the brief respite. It gave her time to stifle any further tears and ponder what she would say in the scant time available. So much had happened over the past month. Anything to do with Shepard was out of the question. Regardless of whether or not Ashley ought to know, she could not risk someone intercepting the conversation. Her relationship with Ashley was a different matter altogether. Jack finding out had been the catalyst. She no longer cared, not even if it ruined her career. The Alliance could deal with it however they chose.
They both suddenly decided to speak at the same time. How are you? It was followed by mutual laughter and polite murmurs that they were good or fine. Miranda ached to be able to see her lover, but the screen refused to show her anything other than infuriating wavy lines.
{Where the hell are you? Why haven't you returned any of my messages?} The tenderness remained, but there was a slight edge to Ashley's voice as she continued.
"Messages?" She had received none. Miranda's heart sank at the thought that there were messages from Ash floating in the ether, still trying to find her. All those words that she could have read or heard. "Ash, the facilities here on Mindoir are basic at best...primitive at their worst. I don't have access to my secure account."
{Mindoir? What the bloody hell are you doing on Mindoir?} Ashley demanded. Miranda clearly heard the sound of a fist striking a hard surface. {I thought the Alliance would have locked you away in some R & D facility and instead you're out in the colonies? What the hell are they thinking? You're an asset, not some frontline grunt.}
"No offence intended to grunts deployed throughout the Galaxy of course," Miranda murmured. A smile crossed her face. She had missed hearing Ash's passionate diatribes.
{Fuck the grunts,} was Ashley's eloquent response. {You're too valuable.}
"To the Alliance?" Miranda asked out of curiosity.
{To me.} Ashley's voice had a hard edge to it, but it was thick, as though she was choking back a multitude of emotions. {The colonies are dangerous places, M – especially Mindoir. With the Alliance stretched thin…}
"And you'd rather I was tucked away in some lab on Earth rather than on the front lines?" Miranda asked. There was a trace of petulance in her tone.
{If I'm being blunt? Yes,} Ashley replied in a terse voice. There was another pause, then the sound of a sigh. {I'm sorry…I just want you safe, is that too much to ask?}
Initially Miranda didn't know whether to be touched by Ashley's concern or stifled by it. Her old self would have automatically gravitated toward the latter, but the people she had met during the last few years had forced her to realise that it wasn't a weakness to show concern, or receive it.
"I think you've earned that right," Miranda said softly. "Ash…I can only promise that I will look after myself. That's one job I am extremely good at."
{I know you are, sweet cheeks.} Ashley's tone was lighter, relieved. {But you don't have to do everything yourself. This isn't Cerberus. You've got the Marine Corps backing you up. Who have they got you serving under? I might know them. Small world and all that.}
Miranda clenched her jaw tightly. The lie didn't spring to mind as easily as she thought it would. She opted for the truth. "Actually…funny coincidence, she's another one from the ex-Normandy club, Jack Zero. Have the two of you met?"
{Jack?} Ashley's response was immediate. {How the hell? Yeah, we've met. A few times in passing, once for a drink with Tali, Garrus and Joker while the Skipper was locked up. I guess we were civil enough, shared a few jokes…but she didn't make it any secret that she hated you. I think I spent about an hour listening to the others slate you – most of it was kind of funny, but Jack's hatred was something else. She mentioned trying to smear you across the walls…that didn't actually happen did it?}
"There was an altercation," Miranda admitted. She chose to avoid mentioning the fact that Jack had been on the verge of strangling her before Shepard intervened. "Jack has a legitimate grudge against Cerberus, she chose to take it out on me. It's in the past. We're both Alliance Officers, our relationship is purely professional."
{Is it?} Ashley asked dubiously. {When I said I want you safe, I didn't think the danger would come from your CO. Damn, I've met the woman and she's not exactly Alliance officer material.}
"You'd be surprised," Miranda replied. "Her war record is nothing short of heroic and she commands respect." And she's a raving, psychotic bitch, Miranda keep that particular thought to herself. "Enough about Jack, I want to hear about you."
{The Normandy is pretty much the same as you left it – minus that horrendous fish tank. I have a good crew to back me up. The new crewmembers are everything I could have asked for – my XO in particular…he's a good guy, well, aside from the fact that he is dating my little sister. That I could do without, but I'm not going to interfere in Sarah's life,} Ashley explained in a breathless rush. {After spending the better part of a month pissing around in Council Space, we're finally engaged in something worthwhile. I can't say much more beyond that, where we're going or-}
"Ash," Miranda interrupted gently. "I didn't ask about the Normandy or its crew or even your sisters – as much as I love them - I asked about you. How are you?"
"Fine, fantastic now I'm speaking to you," Ashley replied much too quickly.
"You sound exhausted and stressed," Miranda said honestly. "Having a good crew to back you up isn't going to be worth a thing if you don't take care of yourself. I'm out of the loop in regards to Alliance politics, but you must be coming up against them on a daily basis."
{You know me, sweet cheeks. I'm a soldier, not a politician,} Ash answered breezily. {I do my job.}
Miranda thought Ashley's response sounded forced, but she didn't want to waste their short time together by pressing her lover for information she wasn't ready to divulge. She could fret on her own time.
"I'm sure you do, babe," Miranda continued. She finally allowed herself to slump into the seat next to the QEC console. The hope of actually receiving an image on the screen had faded, but she savoured the sound of Ashley's voice. "Ash…I'm not usually one to admit such things, but not a day goes by where I don't think of you."
{Are you getting all romantic on me, Lawson?} Ashley teased.
"It's entirely probable."
There was the sound of light laughter on the other end of the channel, then the mood sobered. {I miss you too.}
"At least the gift I sent you will be useful," Miranda commented in a slightly mischievous voice.
{The gift?} Ashley sounded confused for a moment. {Oh, that gift! To tell the truth…not as often as I would like. The commanding officer of the Normandy doesn't exactly get much time to herself. My downtime is usually spent sleeping rather than…ahem, well, you know.}
"Getting yourself off with a fake cock?" Miranda suggested. "Whilst thinking about me of course."
{Miranda! This is an Alliance channel!}
"The last time I checked, fucking a fellow officer wasn't against regs," Miranda replied. "And neither was self-pleasure."
Ashley let out an unashamed groan. {Fuck, that sounds so hot when you say it.}
"Which part? Fucking a fellow officer or self-pleasure?"
{All of it…anything, coming from you it's just…shit. It makes me realise the effect you have on me,} Ashley admitted. {Do you know that you could ask me to do anything?}
"Including fucking me with that cock when I see you?" Miranda knew she shouldn't have asked the question. As soon as the words left her lips, salacious images flooded her mind. She imagined hooking her legs around Ashley's back as she strained above her, taking her hard and deep with each thrust of her body. Given the impossibility of seeing Ashley anytime in the near future, it was all a form of self-torture.
Ashley spluttered incoherently for a few moments. {You want that? Um...yeah, of course.} There was a lengthy pause, followed by another groan. {Damn you, Miranda Lawson, you know full well how far it is from the QEC to the Crow's Nest. I'm going to have to walk across the CIC absolutely soaking wet.}
Miranda let out a full-throated laugh in response, but it was masking the intense frustration that she could not experience the rewards of her foreplay. "I'm so terribly sorry."
{No you're not,} Ash retorted.
Another laugh. "No, I'm not. At least I'll know this conversation was good for something." Miranda knew that her five allotted minutes were nearing an end. Saying goodbye to Ashley was the last thing she wanted to do. "I have to go, marine," she said, wrenching her emotions under control. "But we'll talk again soon…or at least you know to use my Alliance-issue email address next time. I promise to reply as often as I can."
Ashley let out a shuddering breath. {Please do. I don't want to get all romantic on you, but I love you, Miranda Lawson. I know you're a bad ass who can take care of yourself, but be careful out there.}
"You're the one who can't tell me where she's going," Miranda replied. "I'll still be on Mindoir…but I promise. I love you, Ash."
She refused to say goodbye. Instead she terminated the connection with an almost brutal stab of her finger. Ashley's voice was replaced by the interminable sound of loneliness. It was painful. Miranda sagged against the console, cradling her face in her hands.
Despite the emotions swirling in her gut, Miranda remained cognizant of the passage of time. She allowed herself only enough time to restore a mask of composure before leaving the privacy of the comms room. It seemed almost surreal to have to face the realities of her life on Mindoir after the conversation with Ashley. With her lover's voice foremost in her mind, she stepped outside. The technician gave her only a cursory glance.
Before she left the building, Miranda paused near the door. She glanced over her shoulder. "Who was supposed to have had this slot?"
"It was the CO's," the technician replied immediately. He did not hold Miranda's surprised gaze and returned to his duties without a second glance.
When Miranda stepped outside she was still struggling to comprehend why Jack would have done her a favour, especially one that was purely personal. She felt guilty that her gratitude was spoiled by suspicion, but she found it difficult to shake the memory of Jack's fury. It was at that point that she realised that she had been trying to be the better person, but at no point had she actually expected Jack to follow suit. Apparently her prejudices remained perfectly intact.
Omega, Sahrabarik
Even with the last box emptied of her meagre possessions, the apartment still felt empty. Mycea kicked the empty box to one side with her foot and sat down on the sofa to survey her hard work. Her body sank down into the cushions. She bounced a few times for effect, delighted at the simple act of sitting on her sofa. The trinkets she had salvaged from her makeshift home in the Doru District had been swallowed up by the almost cavernous space of her new apartment. There was a large living area where she was currently sitting. Shepard had apologised for the apartment's rundown state, but Myke brushed the concerns aside. It was a palace. There was actual décor – scattered furnishings, carpet, and blinds on the window. Her view was of the apartments on the opposite side of the small courtyard but in Myke's opinion it was an unrivalled vista. Her gaze travelled over the living area and up to the raised area at the back where there was an actual bed, not simply a desk with a lumpy mattress thrown on top.
Myke spread one arm across the back of the sofa in a pose of contentment. Her wounded side she kept close, although she did deliberately flex it occasionally to remind herself that she had actually been shot. She knew she had to do something about her lack of 'stuff.' With space to fill and an abundance of unwanted junk lying around Omega, Myke was looking forward to the challenge of decorating.
Then there were the other perks. Aside from obvious shelter and security, clearly the main benefit of having her own apartment was the potential to bring someone home. Her cheeks blazed almost immediately at that thought. Myke spent a decent amount of time thinking about other maidens, but she couldn't entirely be certain her own species was what she wanted. Other than staring from afar, she preferred to avoid interacting other asari. They tended toward an inflated sense of self-worth, especially the mercs or dancers in Afterlife. Myke snorted contemptuously. Any idiot could shake their hips or pull a trigger. She preferred the company of turians and batarians, but she couldn't see herself being attracted to someone with four eyes or flanges. Humans were an interesting possibility. Not that there were many left on Omega these days and certainly none that would look twice at a skinny asari. Still, she now had a job and her own pad. That had to count for something.
As she was daydreaming what it might feel like to run her fingers through hair, an abrupt buzz interrupted her concentration. It took her a few moments to realise that the sound meant there was someone at her front door. She let the sound continue for sheer novelty's sake before keying open the lock. There was no need to check the vidscreen, only Shepard and Liara knew where she lived. After spending an uncomfortable few days avoiding her as best she could, Myke did not think it would be the latter.
It was Shepard. Her friend seemed less broody of late. She had grin fixed in place as she entered the apartment. The confident demeanour that Myke has admired from afar had definitely returned.
Myke watched Shepard's expression carefully as she appraised the apartment, desperate for approval. A sudden thought struck her.
Evan has hair, Myke mused. Is it offensive to ask humans if you can touch their hair?
Today the human's dark hair was drawn away from her face, bound at the back of her head and then left to fall down her back in a simple arrangement. It appeared both strange and inviting at the same time.
Oblivious to the fact that she was being scrutinised, Shepard eventually nodded her approval. "Love what you've done with the place."
"It's a work in progress." Myke couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face. Her eyes widened as a thought suddenly entered her mind. "Hey, I have something for you. Not a thank you, it's too small…but it's a gift…of sorts."
Intrigued, Shepard watched Myke as she darted off to rummage under her bed. The asari returned with an object wrapped carefully a bundle of rags. As it was offered toward her, Shepard couldn't help but be drawn in by the furtive, hopeful expression on the young asari's face. As she began peeling back the wrappings, before she had even laid eyes on the contents, Shepard had already made up her mind to fuss over whatever was inside. She would like the trinket and accept it graciously. Regardless of its possible hideousness or impracticality, she would use it or display it for Myke's sake.
"Holy shit." Shepard couldn't contain herself as the wrappings fell away. In her hands she was staring at a Cerberus Harrier. The assault rifle had seen better days. Its yellow, white and black paint scheme was chipped and worn but it was intact. She had not seen another Harrier since abandoning her shattered rifle on Alcyone. Upon wrapping her palm around the grip, it extended from its folded state. The movement was jerky, but functional. Instinctively she lifted it to her shoulder. The weight felt perfectly balanced.
"I found it when Cerberus pulled out," Myke was saying. "Don't like guns so I'm not even sure why I kept it. Guess I thought maybe I could get a few credits for it, but I never tried. It's stupid isn't it?"
Shepard shook her head. "No, Myke, it's not stupid in the slightest. I had one of these once. It was the best rifle I've ever used."
Myke beamed. "Do you think it works?"
"Well…" After popping open the firing mechanism and examining the inner workings of the Harrier, Shepard offered a reassuring smile. "There's no thermal clip, but if I strip it down and give it a thorough clean, I don't see why it shouldn't. Thank you, this is brilliant."
She rewrapped the Harrier to keep it concealed whilst carrying it back to her own apartment.
"That's why you always wear gloves," Myke announced suddenly.
"Huh?" Shepard glanced down at her hand, belatedly realising that she wasn't wearing her gloves. The left one had been shredded in the fight with Aria's mercs. If she was being honest with herself, her bare left hand was bothering her less and less. The sole reason for continuing to cover it was to avoid the stares of others. Although it wasn't unusual to have an artificial limb, the Catalyst had made Shepard's unique. She stared down at her hand, trying to see it from the viewpoint of someone who had noticed it for the first time. It stared back at her. White, unblemished. Very much a part of her. "Oh…yeah, Guess I thought it would make people nervous."
"Can I touch it?" Myke blurted out quickly. Her cheeks darkened to an even deeper shade of purple. "Shit, that's as bad as asking to touch your hair isn't it?"
Despite her previous adverse reactions to having others touch the hand, Shepard extended it toward Myke. At first, the embarrassed asari shook her head stubbornly. Then her curiosity won out. Shepard stood patiently while small blue hands probed tentatively at her palm and fingers. She felt each touch, but with the familiar feeling of distance that was now second nature to her. The polite touches lasted less than half a minute before Myke lowered her hands. Her expression was even more awestruck that usual.
"How do I get a hand like that?"
Shepard couldn't help but smile at the innocence of the question. While she had no memory of the exact moment she lost her lower arm to Harbinger's attack, she could vividly recollect the subsequent pain. Although Myke's earnest expression was strangely endearing, she had no desire to wish that on anyone.
"Trust me when I say you should stick with the hands you've got," Shepard replied. She cocked her head to one side. "You want to touch my hair?"
"Oh fuck," Myke whispered in horror. "That kind of just came out…"
"It's fine really-"
"No!" Myke half-shouted. She shook her head with an intense determination. "Can you just piss off. Now? Before I manage to think of something else stupid to ask you?"
Shepard kept the grin from her face in case it appeared patronising. She nodded. "I'll leave you in peace. Thanks for this though." She nodded toward the wrapped Harrier. As she walked away, she noted how small Mycea appeared standing in the middle of her apartment. "You're not going to get bored are you?"
Myke glanced around as if to remind herself where she was. Eventually shook her head. "Nope. I got serious plans. Lots of shit to do, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Shepard agreed. She wrinkled her nose irritably. "I have a mountain of dirty clothes to wash."
"Fuck." Myke let out a low whistle, as though Shepard had announced she was going to scale a mountain or take on another merc gang on her own. "Good luck with that."
As soon as Myke was alone in her apartment she smacked herself in the forehead. It was a predictable act, but one she felt she deserved for being Omega's biggest idiot. Nevertheless, she was pleased at Shepard's reaction to her gift. Even if the human had simply been humouring her by claiming to like the Cerberus weapon, it was done believably enough. Myke was just pleased she'd kept it.
With the apartment silent, Myke had to face the fact that she had just lied to Shepard. There were no 'serious plans' nor was there any 'shit to do' at all let alone lots of it. Eventually her bored gaze travelled to the bed and the thick mattress. A grin spread across her face as she realised that she did have something extremely important to do. With the unrestrained abandoned of someone in the privacy of their own home, Myke took a running leap onto the bed.
It was every bit as bouncy as she had expected it to be.
There were a great number of tasks that did not faze Shepard. She could field strip any assault rifle blind-folded in a matter of seconds. Her younger self had walked into bars and confidently marched up to the most attractive woman in the room regardless of their preferences or availability (It didn't matter whether that tactic was ever successful or not). Although others regarded her driving as abysmal, Shepard thought nothing of powering a Mako at full tilt toward a geth armature. She was a woman of many skills. Apparently none of them could help her figure out how to successfully do a load of laundry.
Shit. Shepard held up one of her previously white vests. It was now a horrid shade of pink. Underwear, t-shirts, socks; nothing had been spared aside from the garment to blame for the disaster. She held up the newly purchased red shirt. It was still just as garish and bright as ever. With a grunt of frustration, she hurled it across the room.
"Let me guess…pink clothes?" Liara said as she made her way down the stairs.
Shepard's scowl deepened. "If you knew this was going to happen why didn't you say anything?" she demanded, shaking a pink pair of underwear in Liara's direction.
"I should have thought that removing all of my clothes from the pile was telling enough," Liara explained with a purposefully smug smile on her face. "Besides, I think you will look quite fetching in pink."
"I'll just buy more clothes," Shepard muttered. Unfortunately most of the ruined clothing was Alliance-issue. It couldn't simply be picked up in Omega's markets.
"Evangeline Shepard!" Liara replied in a horrified voice. She reached the bottom of the stairs and pointed toward the pink pile. "They are still perfectly good clothes."
Shepard shrugged petulantly. Regardless of her bondmate's admonishment, she had absolutely no intention of strutting around Omega wearing pink clothing - not even underwear. It was irrelevant that no one else would know, she would.
As she stared defiantly at Liara, Shepard finally realised that her bondmate was actually wearing a dress. Her eyes widened in surprise. She could have sworn that Liara had been dressed in a pair of her old cargos and a hoodie earlier that morning.
"Speaking of clothes, what are you wearing?" Shepard asked. "Not that the dress isn't nice or anything…"
To simply call the dress 'nice' was a colossal understatement. The figure hugging garment clung to Liara's curves in all the right places. It accentuated her hips and her clearly unencumbered breasts. Shepard's mouth went dry when she saw the sharp points of Liara's nipples protruding beneath the thin fabric. The whole picture was as sexy as hell, and incredibly dangerous from Shepard's perspective.
"I wanted your undivided attention," Liara explained. She continued to the sofa and took a seat, demurely sitting with her hands in her lap.
"You've definitely got it." Shepard was now having difficulty looking anywhere else. Her eyes roamed over Liara's body, drinking in her curves as her mind enthusiastically imagined how it would feel to have them beneath her hands. She let the pink underwear fall to the floor as she started forward eagerly. After a few quick steps, she ground to a stubborn halt. "Liara…you know this isn't a good idea." It took an immense effort to force the words out when they were the exact opposite of what her body wanted.
Instead of responding supportively to her bondmate's discomfort, Liara spread her arms out across the back of the sofa in a blatant display. "Why?" Liara asked calmly. "Is this not the crux of the issue? Look at me and tell me you don't want me."
"You know just how badly I want you dammit!" Shepard groaned. She refused to allow herself to move any closer. "That's what I'm scared of."
"Come and sit next to me?" Liara invited her by patting the space immediately beside her.
"No," Shepard replied stubbornly.
"Evan."
It was just her name, but it was more than enough. As though Liara had hooked her navel and was reeling her in, Shepard started forward. With the soft, sensual voice guiding her, Shepard was powerless to do anything other than what she was told. However, when she gingerly sat down, she kept her fingers laced tightly together on her lap.
They sat in silence for several minutes. It was not awkward, but the air was pregnant with unspoken tension. Shepard could hear her heart hammering in her chest – beating with an unrelenting anticipation. When Liara reached out and laid a gentle hand on her thigh, her whole body startled. The asari did not do anything other than simply touch her with the flat of her palm, but Shepard felt heat radiating downward. She stared at anything other than Liara. A light coating of dust lay on the table in front of them. Pink clothes taunted her from their small pile on the floor. She ached to toss them into the incinerator. The whole apartment suddenly felt unbearably empty. How had they managed to live for weeks without making any attempt at some form of decoration? Did it mean that they both had difficulty putting down roots after so many years of wandering? Shepard had never wanted a home. Now that she had one, she realised she did not know what to do to make it feel more welcoming.
Shepard's mind jumped to any number of possibilities - pictures on the walls; a rug to liven up the swathes of tan-coloured carpet. Anything to take her mind of the conversation that she knew she was supposed to be having. It was the art of procrastination at its very finest.
Throughout, Liara simply sat at her side - a stoic presence in the midst of her own turmoil. The pressure of the hand on her thigh did not change, nor did she speak in an effort to prod reluctant words from her lips. Shepard lost herself to the clock she imagined on the wall. It slowly ticked away the minutes as she sat, unable to talk. Tick, tick, tick.
Eventually the realisation struck her. Each minute lost was a minute less she had to spend with Liara. Of course her bondmate was sitting with her throughout that time, but the tension ruined any pleasure she might have derived from being in her presence. This was a form of torture where the power lay entirely with the tortured. A ragged sigh escaped her lips. In response, Liara reached out and gently unlaced the tightly clenched hands in her lap. With the sudden release, Shepard was at least able to open her mouth. The words still took time to emerge.
"I…can't stop thinking about Alberta," Shepard admitted in a small voice. She also couldn't stop thinking about her pink clothes, but that was a distraction. "I want to forget, but that place…those people. I have never felt so helpless…so humiliated." As the first words left her lips, she realised that she had not sat down and explained her experiences in the facility. Liara had probably caught glimpses of the hell, but the actual reality had been deliberately kept from her. "For much of the time I was kept like a deranged criminal. In a white room, strapped to a bed, wearing nothing other than a paper gown…sometimes not even that." Her voice almost broke when she recalled standing naked in the shower in front of Stone, still under the impression that the woman was helping her. She recalled as well the callous manner in which Heller had removed her catheter, showering her in her own urine. He was supposed to have been her ally. Shepard suppressed a shiver. "There are times when I try to understand their hatred but I can't think of anything I did to deserve that. Instead I ask myself whether they saw something different in me, something I can't see myself. Some sort of monster."
"It's buried though. The only time I feel as if that monster might emerge is when I'm alone with you," Shepard continued. "If I lose control and let myself give into my desire, I'll devour you. There's no coming back from that."
Liara reached out and caressed the side of her face. When it was clear that Shepard had finished talking, she responded in a firm but gentle voice. "You do not understand. I want you to devour me. I have never felt safer than when I am helpless in your arms. Evan, please look at me." Liara applied pressure with her hand, turning Shepard to face her. The soldier's bright blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. "You are no monster. I trust you…implicitly."
Shepard shook her head. "You shouldn't, not now. I'm scared I can't separate reality from my nightmares. That nightmare that Stone created? It did happen. In my mind. I'm worried it could happen again. If I stay in control, I can keep it in check."
Liara surged forward suddenly. In a series of smooth motions she rucked her dress up around her upper thighs and swung one leg over Shepard. Straddling her bondmate, Liara used both hands on her chest to press her backwards. Trapped beneath Liara's body, Shepard felt a swell of panic threatening to engulf her. She fought for calm as her heart continued to pound.
"Liara-"
"Then let me take control," Liara urged fervently. She lowered her lips to Shepard's neck. The response to the first touch was immediate - a low, tremulous moan. When she drew away, she saw Shepard physically swallow in an effort to quench her fears. Liara knew that her control had to be absolute, or Shepard would panic and withdraw into herself – much as she had when faced with the Thresher Maw on Tuchanka. Her tactics had worked against that particular monster. She prayed that they would work again here.
"Let you? How?" Shepard protested. She could feel her body's stirring reactions already as Liara ground forward on her lap. Her own hands were poised just inches from grasping a firm hold on those sensuous hips. "Li, I don't think this is a good idea. You shouldn't let me-"
"Shut up, Evan. I am not letting you do anything," Liara whispered as she stroked Shepard's cheeks with a multitude of feathery touches. "You have talked, I have listened...and my heart breaks for you. However now you need to watch. Watch and do nothing."
It was all Shepard could do to watch as Liara's hands went to the hem of her dress. Any further protest was brutally silenced as the dress was dragged upwards. Smooth folds of material slid upwards over Liara's soft, pebbly skin. The rasp of material against skin was the only sound as Shepard held her breath. Inch by inch the asari bared her body. Close proximity made staring unavoidable. Shepard's gaze hungrily moved from her thighs to the dappled mound between her legs, from the flat planes of her stomach to the lavish curves of her tits. Liara's head emerged from the dress. Her eyes were luminous and her tiny smile spoke volumes.
Shepard did not even notice the dress float to the floor. Her stilted breath finally emerged in an urgent exhale. For someone who had starved themselves for so long, the banquet was overwhelming. Her hands twitched at her side. She didn't know where to place them. However Liara scooped both up before she could make a move. They were swept up and over her head. Liara's fingers grasped the hem of her t-shirt. As she dragged it upwards, deft fingers played havoc on her skin, leaving goose flesh in their wake. The garment was then deliberately abandoned, left wrapped around her raised arms, as Liara moved onto her bra. Unfastened, it was roughly tugged only high enough to free Shepard's breasts for Liara's eager touch.
The asari stroked their smooth surface, taking the time to reacquaint herself with the way each fit comfortably in her palm. As she played her thumbs across the nipples, she watched Shepard's expression. Only when the last of the panic disappeared did she bend to take one of the parcels of flesh into her mouth. Although Shepard's needs were her focus, her own bubbled to the surface in the form of a throaty moan. She could not contain her delight, grinning madly as she suckled. Her tongue's ministrations soon drew an answering moan from Shepard. Emboldened, she concentrated her efforts against the tender bud at the tip. She teased it mercilessly with her tongue and teeth, nipping forcefully enough to elicit a sharp cry. The same assault was repeated on the second breast, although this time her hand continued to work on the first. When Shepard tried to stroke her crest, Liara bit her nipple again, harder. Only one of them could be in control, and Liara was determined that it remain her.
Eventually Liara lowered her hands to work at Shepard's belt. Her urgency was hampered by the frustrating tremor that gripped her hands. Scared that her eagerness would undo her composure, Liara forced herself to face each movement one at a time. The belt buckle finally slipped free. Buttons followed - each one providing little resistance beneath her increasingly nimble fingers. A thrill coursed through her body as she hooked her thumbs beneath the bands of Shepard's cargos. Sliding down in between her legs, she drew both the trousers and her underwear down. She glanced up at her bondmate, revelling in the half-lidded expression of pleasure on her face.
Before she turned her attention elsewhere, Liara placed one knee between Shepard's legs, driving it forward at the precise moment she claimed her lips. She felt both the resulting inhale and the heat rising from Shepard's core. The kiss was at times measured and cautious, at others wild and grating. Of all the kisses they had shared since their reunion, it was by far the sweetest because of the potential it held.
Shepard's hands remained trapped behind her head in her t-shirt. She protested with a slight whimper when she lost the contact with Liara's lips. It was short-lived however as her stunning bondmate lowered her body downward until she was kneeling between her spread thighs. In that moment Shepard tried to drink everything in. The almost licentious manner in which she was sprawled on the sofa, hands hooked behind her head, tits heaving with each gasping breath, legs wide apart. Her hips were already moving of their own accord, making involuntary upward thrusts in anticipation of what was to come. When Liara pressed warm lips to the inside of her thigh she felt a shiver pass from her head to her toes. All sensations converged in her core. Shepard bit her lip as the asari teased her wantonly with her tongue – her thighs, the top of her sex, and eventually her outer lips. She was soaking wet even before Liara daggered her tongue between her folds. The resulting sharp cry drowned out Liara's own murmur of pleasure upon rediscovering the taste of arousal.
Several languorous strokes had already teased her throbbing clit before it became the focus of attention. Liara ravished the taut bundle with her unrelentingly firm tongue. Shepard realised that the prior release she had given herself had only ever been temporary. Furtive self-gratification could never compare to that granted by a lover. With each stroke of her tongue and dip of her head, Shepard could feel more than just her bondmate's touch. Every act was performed with such eagerness, such delight. Love.
The control that Shepard had fought to maintain for so long had well and truly been relinquished. The soft mewling noises emerging from her throat may as well have belonged to someone else. She felt another surge of pleasure when she became aware of the tip of Liara's finger teasing at her entrance.
"Fuck!" Although her intention had not been to cheapen the act with words, the cry emerged as Liara tenderly but powerfully drove one finger deep inside. She didn't anticipate how tight she would be. The walls of her cunt gripped to the single finger as it filled her to satisfaction. Liara felt it, responded by keeping her thrusts firm but slow.
Shepard's hips bucked against Liara's face. Now they drove against her hand as well. She was close. She had been close before Liara's tongue had even touched her clit. There was no meld, no biotics, just raw, unadulterated passion and longing. In those last few moments Shepard let everything go - her voice, her gasping breaths, the jerky, desperate motions of her body.
Liara sensed that Shepard was close to orgasm. In those final moments she placed her free hand on one of Shepard's hips. The hand worked in time with each thrust, encouraging her bondmate, speeding her on. The unbridled cry left Shepard's lips at the same time she felt sensitive flesh spasm beneath her own lips. It was a complete loss of control on all levels. Shepard's voice was lost to a series of sharp cries and involuntarily expletives. The walls of her cunt contracted around Liara's finger. Her hips surged upwards, violently at first before subsiding into a series of intermittent thrusts. Only when Shepard pleaded with her to stop, utterly spent, did Liara cease her attentions.
She remained close to Shepard's core for several minutes, drinking in the warmth and the sweet smell of her climax, revelling in the sensation of being inside her. On the sofa above, her soldier had collapsed heavily against the couch. Only now was her breathing coming under control. Liara tugged on her finger. It came free, her palm glistening in the same manner that her chin probably was. Her body protested slightly as she rose from her position on the floor. At no point had she noticed that her knees were sore from kneeling or her left foot had gone to sleep. She managed a less than graceful fall onto the sofa, rewarded when Shepard mashed their lips together, tasting herself in the process. In the aftermath, the kiss was a lazy mess of slowly moving lips and probing tongues. Liara finally freed Shepard's hands from the confines of her t-shirt, tossing it to one side. Shepard then shrugged out of her own bra before finally taking the opportunity to wrap her arms around Liara's body. Although Liara did not want to get ahead of herself, she was already anticipating being on the receiving end of Shepard's touch. In that moment however, she was more than content with the embrace.
"Hey you," Shepard whispered. Her voice sounded raw and scratchy.
Liara was hardly surprised. Her soldier had been unusually vocal. "Evan." Her lips curved into yet another smile. This one grew exponentially.
Shepard pressed her moist lips against Liara's neck and inhaled deeply at the same time. "Damn, you smell good."
"As opposed to the foul way I usually smell?" Liara asked playfully.
An authentic laugh burst from Shepard's lips. "Yeah." She inhaled again. "Absolutely foul. Are you sure you're not one hundred percent Krogan?"
"You can feel free to test that theory," Liara challenged. "Although I already know which one of us would win a head-butting contest." Liara pressed her lips to Shepard's forehead. "And you have such a lovely face, I would hate for anything to happen to it."
Liara drew back so she could enjoy the mirth visible in her bondmate's eyes. She smoothed Shepard's sweaty hair back, letting her fingers luxuriate in the long strands. Her cheeks were beginning to ache with the strain of the permanent smile she wore. In that moment, everything was perfect. Her Shepard was back. They were strong together. Strong enough to conquer the Galaxy on a whim.
"I love your face," Liara eventually whispered.
Shepard's cheeks warmed in response - flushed with pleasure, embarrassment, and joy. She then wrapped her arms around Liara's torso and drew her down. The asari folded her body against Shepard's and laid her head on her chest, tucking her knees in close. "Thank you, Liara."
Liara nuzzled her cheek contentedly against Shepard's warm, salt-encrusted skin. A gentle, warm sigh escaped her lips. "You do not need to thank me, Evan. This is how it should be. How it was always supposed to be."
A/N #2: My sincere thanks to JadeDragonMTR for spotting numerous errors whilst reading Architect of Fate and taking the time to let me know - clearly a more eagle-eyed copy reader than I am!
Someone else mentioned that one of the previous chapters was too short. I hope this one was long enough for you!
