Liara

I glanced over my shoulder continuously as I moved towards the docking bay. I could not help the suspicion, the weight pressing on the back of my shoulders, cautioning me, telling me that I was being watched. But I did not care. Soon, I would be in space, surrounded by the stars, flying towards my great enemy and rescuing my friend.

But first, I must come to terms with the woman who believes that she still loves me. I must tell her where I stand, and what things will be and how they must go. Our relationship has been defined by always lacking the proper time to say what needs to be spoken. That must change. And it will.

I stopped for a moment, breath rushing from my lungs as I saw the clean, slick lines of the Normandy. Gone were the colors of the Alliance; in their place, signs of Cerberus rested. The colors of the ship seemed deeper, more vibrant, more like a shrieking flag of resistance and I knew in my heart that Shepard found this ship beautiful.

She has always held elegant weapons in high esteem. And I know that this ship is a weapon. It could be nothing else.

I advanced, feeling as though I were going to war against more than the Shadow Broker. I did not know this ship any longer. The familiar faces I once knew and cared for would not be here to greet me…not as they once did. They would not look at me the same way. Nor would I see them in the same light.

I pressed the comm pad at the entrance to the ramp and spoke when the light flashed green.

"Normandy, this is Liara T'Soni. Requesting permission to come aboard."

"Permission granted." I heard a voice that filled my heart with a cold fury it had not known in months.

What is Joker doing with Cerberus, I thought as the terminal door opened. Shepard died…and when she lived again, she sought him out immediately after to pilot this ship, this new incarnation of the Normandy? She saved his life and damned mine.

Incensed, I waited for the door of the Normandy to open. After it did, I walked through the decontamination process and onto the main deck of the ship. I felt amazed as I examined the ship. It felt as though I had stepped into a parallel universe. Everything looked so much the same, the consoles, the CIC, the strips of floor lighting. Each and every chair held a person in uniform…a Cerberus uniform.

Yes. Nothing has changed, but everything is different.

The CIC swarmed with activity and voices, men and women intent on their work, but each and every one of them seemed able to move their heads upwards to glare at me. Hatred filled their eyes as they looked at me and I realized anew that I had entered the lair of the enemy. Aliens were the enemy, the hated, the despised. A shiver ran down my spine and in my mind I heard the echo of a gunshot and felt a searing pain in my chest and ice in my lungs.

I had taken a bullet aboard the first Normandy: a bullet fired from the gun of a xenophobe who had led a mutiny against Shepard because of the aliens on board the ship, being taken on away missions. With Cerberus, the chances of such an instance were elevated. Because, for the terrorist organization, killing an alien bore no consequences. Cerberus had used Feron. They had used me. Now, they used Shepard. Because Serena had an ability to command.

She could command attention, loyalty, and respect. She could command men in battle with calm competence and brutal efficiency. At one time, I had called her my commander. She was such a thing no longer. And I would tell her as much.

"How are you feeling?" Shepard's voice jolted me from my reflections and I looked up.

Her silver eyes were bright and full of the hope she still managed to cling to. She wore a simple black tank top now, exposing her chiseled arms, highlighting her muscular torso, and showing the barest hint of her breasts.

Her injured arm had been bandaged and the lines of pain that had been chiseled in her face had eased somewhat. I looked for and I saw what Zhira had spoken to me of. Pain and perseverance dwelt in her crossed arms, straightened her shoulders, and shimmered behind her silver gaze. I could almost smell it on her; how much she desired time to speak. Her lips looked as though they ached with unsaid words.

"Much better, thank you." I replied.

I will be civil. I will attempt to be gentle. Because she deserves at least that.

"Good." Shepard looked back, towards the galaxy map. "Set a course for Hagalaz and get us there as soon as possible." She ordered.

Immediately the star charts appeared on the screen and the navigational officer began entering the coordinates. Shepard's full attention returned to me.

"I recall that we promised to talk." She said. "And then that goddamn Vasir bitch tried to kill you, and we missed that opportunity."

"Indeed we did, and I am amenable to speaking with you, so long as we speak in private. You will understand the fact that I do not wish the entirety of my secrets splayed before xenophobes."

"My room it is then." Shepard nodded, turning on her heel and walking towards the back of the ship.

I followed her, feeling every eye on the ship tracking our movements. They knew that their commander dealt with aliens; aliens lived and worked alongside them, but somehow it did not seem to change their prejudices. I entered the elevator and Shepard closed the doors.

It's time…words from two years ago, words from the nightmares that still haunted my sleeping, echoed in my mind. My hands ached as I remembered tearing apart an elevator door trying to get to the woman I loved…the woman who died…the woman who now stood next to me.

Shock fired through me as the elevator came to a stop and opened. I glanced to Shepard, my mouth open in question.

"Cerberus did a few upgrades." She smiled, knowing that I was going to ask how and why the elevator had moved so speedily.

"Indeed they did." I replied, but my words were bladed, meant to slice at Shepard's unscarred features, her rebuilt body, her perfect, re-created eyes.

"Ouch." Shepard moved into her quarters, so much more opulent and less spartan than those aboard the SR1.

Cerberus is definitely intending to keep her in their employ…and who would not, with the promise of being brought back to life?

"Liara, I'm not stupid." Shepard muttered. "The little darts you're throwing at me hurt like hell, and you know I can only take so much. Did I say something wrong to Zhira?"

She knew?

"What are you saying?" I asked, wondering what exactly had transpired in that conversation.

"I'm saying that I know that you were awake and listening in." Shepard said, her silver eyes on fire. "I spent years studying military craft, strategy, and technique. I can field strip any weapon in the Alliance arsenal and that the Spectres can acquire. I've memorized topographic maps for fuck's sake. And, for a while, I spent my time memorizing you. Your every action, your every move, your every inflection, because what I hold precious I keep in my memory. I knew you were awake, and I also knew that you weren't going to let us know, because you wanted to hear what I had to say."

"Apparently you think you still know me." I quipped, angry with myself for being so transparent.

Shepard spread her hands wide. "I'm making no assumptions anymore." She stated. "So you tell me, Liara. Did what I said mean anything to you at all? Because I'm at your mercy here. Save me or slay me, now's your chance."