Liara

The door of Afterlife opened and I entered, disoriented by the thick, muggy air, the earthy smell of sweat mingling with the bitter-sweet odor of alcohol and the acrid stench of illegal pharmaceuticals. The building itself was fogged with smoke, lust hung thick, and vice pervaded the atmosphere. I stood to the side of the entrance, taking in my surroundings, watching the dancers ply their trade.

The selling of flesh. The tantalizing dream of beauty paraded before the drooling, gaping maw of the scum of the galaxy. This is where I had come. Where law did not exist. Where strength of arms superseded strength of mind. Afterlife. Where honor died. Where dreams were polluted and skewed, held at arm's length, daring those brave enough or foolish enough to take them by force.

Here I stood, divested of every good thing my life had possessed. Here I stood with nothing in my heart but grief and bitterness. I had come to hell seeking a dream, believing in the words of a stranger whom I did not know. Here I stood…with innocent blood on my hands. No better than any of the other patrons here. No better than the worst of the galaxy who made this place their final refuge.

I walked to the bar and locked eyes with the turian bartender. His mandibles twitched as he met my gaze, and I wondered what he saw there. Did he see the crimes I had committed, the laws I had broken, the things I had lost? Could he see my soul hanging by a thread?

"Whiskey." I ordered Shepard's drink of choice. "Neat."

He said nothing, merely nodded and poured the drink. I stared at the amber liquid in the frosted glass for a moment before wrapping my fingers around it and feeling the chill. I drank the bitter liquid, swallowing it down, letting it scald down my throat and settle in the pit of my stomach where it burned.

I looked back at the asari dancers, their naked bodies on display as they gyrated to the thrumming beat of the music. I set the glass down and signaled the bartender, who poured another shot. I lifted the glass to my lips and sipped this time, letting the flavor coat my tongue as I watched the dance, roving over the curves of their hips, watching the swell of their perfect breasts move in time with the pulsating rhythm.

I wanted to feel my own body heat with the savage edge of desire. I wanted to know that all of me had not perished above Alchera. But I remained unmoved by the lewd beauty before me. I wanted another body above me, a body decorated with scars, taut with muscle earned by running, fighting, shedding blood. I did not want the jewel tones of asari eyes looking back at me and devouring my vulnerability. I wanted the blade of a knife piercing my gaze, a ragged silver with nightmares locked inside.

I wanted my haunted goddess. My place of peace given name and granted form. I wanted her beside me in the Afterlife, for the beat of the drum to be the firing of weapons, the empty vacant stares of those who came here to be eyes locked wide in death. I wanted the savagery of her teeth at my neck, the insistent press of her hand between my legs…to be brought to life again.

I searched for the one who might have sent me the message, the one who had known Serena's first name…a gift given to so very few. The identity that she protected with all the ferocity she could muster. The child that had survived Mindoir. The woman who had loved and lost at Akuze. The woman who had been broken so many times and yet retained a form of kindness that once spoke to my heart.

Until that kindness got her killed, I could feel my heart hardening. Proving the uselessness of such an emotion. There is vulnerability, and there is weakness. She was weak.

"Excuse me," I attempted civility when I addressed the elcor at the bar beside me, "I am looking for someone. Would you happen to know if anyone here has asked for Liara T'Soni?"

The elcor did not turn his massive head as he spoke in the monotone that defined his species. "Mild Annoyance Why do you find it necessary to interrupt me?"

"I meant no offense." I clarified. "I simply thought…"

"Anger That since I was an elcor I would not be watching the dancers? Reprimand Elcor are excellent dancers, but none will give us the chance. Offended You have insulted me. Please leave."

I shook my head and finished the whiskey, slamming the glass back onto the bar. If I were forced to ask every single patron here of their intentions, I would be shot within an hour.

"Elcor." I heard a dry voice. "It's a mercy they learned to indicate their emotions before speaking. Otherwise they might have been laughed out of existence."

I turned to see a hooded figure at my side. The voice was masculine, but I could see no defining features.

"Dr. T'Soni, I presume." he nudged the hood back and I found myself face to face with a drell. His golden eyes held a wicked intelligence, but I found myself immediately on guard.

He carried himself with an eerie grace, a non-chalant posture which I had learned, from watching Shepard and Ashley, belied a lethal skill.

"You are the one who sent me the message?" I asked. "You have information about Sh…"

He clutched my hand, effectively silencing me as he all but dragged me out of Afterlife and to the desolate streets of Omega.

"It's not safe to ask questions on Omega." he growled. "Not even about the time. We're being followed."

"I do not care." I hissed. "I need to know what you know. Now."

"My name is Feron." he said, slipping into a shadowed corner. I followed him. "And you're right. I do know where Commander Shepard is. But you won't like what I have to say."

"She's dead." the words and their truth still tasted bitter, and I hated that I spoke them, hated them for their truth.

Feron glanced at me, quizzically. "You think she's dead?"

My head snapped up. "What do you mean?" I clenched my hands into fists. "I was there. No one can survived being spaced!"

Feron looked back and forth, making certain we were alone. "That's the thing." he whispered. "No one will confirm death. Even the Alliance has her listed as missing in action. So either she is dead, or very close to it. The body has been recovered in some sort of stasis pod…not alive by any means but perhaps…salvageable. Had I known this before, I wouldn't have messaged you, but my intelligence at the time differed. You've come far, and I apologize for the bad news."

"No." I shook my head. "You do not get to dangle this in front of me and send me away. I need to see her, Feron. I need to confirm whether she is dead or alive for myself."

She left me, you ignorant drell! Have you ever lost something that is an innate part of you, then heard that all might not be as it seems? I have to know! My heart raced in my chest. If Shepard might be saved…I needed to know. I needed my eyes to verify her death, to seal the coffin, to lock my heart away forever. Hope burned like white phosphorus through my veins and I despised myself for it.

"Listen," he growled, "you aren't the only one looking for her. Let the dead sleep. Go home."

I glared at him. "Is your translator fried?" I demanded. "I need to see Shepard!"

"This will cost you." he seemed to relent. "I don't work for free. And you don't have your big bad Spectre protecting you now. Your life is at risk."

"I'll pay whatever you like." I spat. "And my life is worth less than it ever has been. Take me to her, Feron."

"Fine." he nodded. "But this is Omega, not the Citadel with transports everywhere. It's a long walk."

"Do I appear as though I care?"

With a sigh, he started off and I followed him, seeking the proof I needed. Because I needed to look at her body. I needed to see that her kindness had destroyed her, that she had chosen to leave me. I had done things…I had murdered and killed…because I had lost her. And, if there were any chance that she still lived or that she was salvageable, as Feron had said…then she would need to look upon what she had created.

She would see me. And the tears I had never cried for her would be in her eyes…for I believed myself dead. This was not an errand of mercy. This was an act of vengeance.