Phew.
A special thank you to the girl of darkness, who has been a spectacular beta for me. Her insight has been invaluable while trying to write something that could very easily be a confusing clusterfuck. I am immeasurably grateful to her for making me suck less.
The minds of the three women collided, fumbled over one another in a swirl of stunned chaos. Both the human women were startled, and Liara felt her cheeks flush, knowing that both woman could feel her apology without it being directly stated. She also heard her name in Shepard's voice in her mind, stern and reproachful.
Human communication at its very best was only ever an approximation. Language, all language, was imperfect. There was no intrinsic link between signifier and signified. Words and phonemes were only estimates of what was actually intended, what was actually felt. Shepard could state that she loved Miranda, but the truth was that was only a bland proclamation in comparison for what she actually felt. The situation dictated a need for a more direct, precise vector of communication between all parties. Joining was the obvious, appropriate choice.
Her argument seemed sufficient, because some of sharpness to the part of her mind that was Shepard faded into acceptance, with a brief flicker of… later.
Miranda settled on the periphery of awareness, just on the edge of their minds. Watching, listening, feeling the exchange between the two lovers. It was no less overwhelming than it had been the previous night, when she had only one other person's thoughts and feelings to sift through in addition to her own.
Some part of her realized she could break away; Liara would not stop her from disrupting the meld, from jerking the whole of herself away to the safety of her isolated single consciousness. The previous night had been a disaster, and there was no knowing how her feelings would betray her again. The meld was heat to her ice, melting away any defenses she might normally have. It left her exposed, vulnerable.
Shepard was the first to open her consciousness fully, to extend the tendrils of emotion outward, gradually at first, so as not to frighten or overwhelm Miranda, who was struggling with the instinct to pull away, to protect herself. Liara steadily followed suit, allowing Shepard to take the lead. Shepard was nothing but warmth, and three women simultaneously shared the unrepentant wash of her love, like the smile of sunlight on bare skin on an otherwise cold day. And everything that accompanied love: affection, compassion, attraction, acceptance, comfort, dedication.
Tears sprang into Miranda's eyes, yet again. She never cried, yet in the span of twelve hours she had cried several times, and worse, in front of two women she respected, whose respect she wanted. But both Liara and Shepard's warmth was genuine, unrelenting. Like a bright light she could not force herself to look away from, she experienced her own yearning through Shepard.
It became a dance, with Liara and Shepard who were more experienced with the free exchange of thought and feeling playing off one another easily. Miranda was much more hesitant, her emotions still muffled behind her caution. But the constant reassurance, the persistent surge of… love eroded her reserve.
And just like that, the lovers managed to bat away years of excuses and defenses. She wasn't ready. She needed to think. It was complicated. Now was no time for the muddiness of emotions. She just needed some time. She had work to do. She was too busy. Every deflection Miranda could think of was pointless and evaporated under the heat of honest feeling. Every safeguard and wall she erected felt like a lie when confronted with Shepard and Liara's visceral truth. Gradually, she began to step in, to join the lovers, and when she wasn't met with rejection or disgust, the barriers began to dissolve.
Then it became a ballet, not a choreographed routine, but an earnest expression of three bodies and minds moving and breathing as one. Three hearts beat in perfect synchronization. Three chests heaved with regulated breath. Three women loved as one.
Twos were not completely eliminated. There was the love of Liara and Shepard, aged and experienced with time. The love of Shepard and Miranda was new, fresh, and poignant. And there was the not-quite-love of Miranda and Liara, a mutual respect and affection that was sincere with potential.
And each woman came with her own misgivings, her own insecurities. But wherever there was a stab of guilt (from both Shepard and Miranda,) Liara soothed it with understanding. Wherever there was doubt, Shepard reassured it with certainty. And wherever there was reservation, it was met with love on all sides.
Memories flitted like escaped butterflies through the meld, appearing from nowhere. And once glimpsed, they would flutter away.
Shepard desperately lifting the beam and debris off of Miranda, a wordless plea on her lips for the woman to stir, to open her eyes, to move.
Dinner at the restaurant in the city. Liara's hand on Miranda's, the sensation of loss when that hand was withdrawn.
Two mornings ago, Liara's patient smile as she leaned over her lover and kissed her, ignoring the regular accusation of "blanket-thief."
The three of them in a hospital room, Miranda and Liara trying not to hover as Shepard attempted to walk for the first time since the war. Both women darting to her side to catch an arm when her legs buckled.
Lunch, yesterday, Shepard making a lewd comment on the mating habits of turians. Laughter. Cheeks that became painful from smiles, diaphragms that became sore from laughing.
Until a single word entered their mind, echoing with the pulse of their hearts, an endless repetition of the summary of all their emotions and memories and thoughts. Like a ball ceaselessly rolling, over onto itself, again and again. Us.
When they returned to the physical, to the present, they were much closer, physically, than they had when the meld was initiated. Shepard's cane had clattered to the floor, unnoticed, intentionally discarded. She supported herself with one hand on Miranda's hip, pulling her closer, and Liara's hand in the small of her back keeping her balanced. Liara's opposite hand had migrated to Miranda's cheek, her fingertips resting on her cheekbone, thumb on her chin.
None of them moved, as if holding a collective breath. It was like being paralyzed by a truth so undeniable that it should have been obvious. The knowledge that each was bound to the other, tightly, irreversibly, was much more overwhelming without the waves of reassurance coming through the meld. It was no longer just Liara and her commander, but their mutual understanding of who and what they were had expanded to accommodate another. Their… family had grown.
Miranda was frozen. She was not accustomed to the meld, not yet. The withdrawal of emotions and separation was much more abrupt, and she felt the loss of presence much more acutely than the other women. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she searched Shepard's face, looking for the reassurance that she had found in the meld, terrified that she would not find it.
Smiling, Shepard touched her brow to Miranda's. "Us." She affirmed aloud, and brought their lips together. It was slow, barely the brush of the lips at first, because the former Cerberus operative was trembling. As the kiss continued, it became bolder, stronger.
Shepard could not remember kissing another person besides Liara. She knew she had, but it had been years ago and there were no specific kisses with other lovers she could readily recall. So it surprised her to learn that Miranda did not kiss like Liara, though it should not have. Miranda kissed more slowly, more languidly. It was a caress of lips, a dance of ginger, patient touches. She felt rather than heard Miranda sigh into her mouth, felt the dampness of tears not her own on her cheeks. One of Miranda's hands traveled up Shepard's side, the tips of her fingers coming to rest along the curve of her jaw which caused a shudder to travel down her spine.
She broke the kiss, but did not pull away. Her eyes opened, meeting Miranda's, and she grinned.
This was nothing like she thought it might be. Her whole life. Nothing had ever gone according to plan. If it had, there would have been no Reapers, no War. She probably would have served with the Alliance until she was too old to do so anymore and retired an old woman, probably taking a professorship at one the Alliance academies. Her leg would still work; her body would not be full of metal and cybernetics. She would sleep the night through without nightmares or anxiety attacks. Perhaps she would have married, somewhere along the way, maybe had children.
But she would not have Liara. Or Miranda. She would not have the two most beautiful, amazing women in the entire galaxy in her life. She did not believe in fate or destiny, but at that moment, she felt immensely grateful that things happened as they did.
She pulled away then, glanced over at her bondmate, who returned her smile. Shepard gave her hand a gentle tug to pull her closer, but apparently Miranda had the same thought. Her hand was resting on the curve of the asari's neck where it met her shoulder, and with a bit more force than Shepard had, pulled Liara close.
Startled, Liara did not resist and her lips met Miranda's. The kiss was not for show, Shepard immediately realized. It might not have been tempered with quite the intensity of emotion that the kiss she and Miranda had shared, but it was still an act of love, of yearning. As much as she loved Liara, and as much as she loved Miranda, watching the two of them kiss with visible, unreserved adoration for one another caused a swell of pure love for the both of them so powerful, that it bordered on painful.
When they broke away, Miranda cupped Liara's cheek, her thumb running over the asari's lower lip. "Thank you." She whispered, barely audible.
Before they could pull away from one another, Shepard stepped closer and pulled both women to her, wrapping one arm around each, craving the sensation of physical closeness. Miranda looped both her arms around Shepard's waist, while Liara went around Miranda's shoulders and behind Shepard's back. The three women stood like that in the middle of the bedroom, entwined, for a very long time.
Not one to break routine, Shepard insisted on preparing breakfast despite the fact it was halfway to lunch by the time they reluctantly released each other from the embrace.
"Go. I can't cook with you two distracting me." Shepard had claimed. She had kissed Liara ardently on the mouth, planted a loud smacking kiss on Miranda's forehead, and waved the two women away from her.
In all likelihood, it was probably the commander's way of allowing Miranda and Liara some space and privacy. For a woman who habitually butted heads with krogan, Shepard could also be very considerate.
"I don't know why I'm so tired." Miranda admitted, once the two were seated in the living room.
It occurred to Liara that their positions were not so different as they had been the previous evening, during the joining that had begun… everything. They sat on the same couch, not touching but close, angled so that they faced one another.
"You did not sleep last night. I also had to make use of some of your body's natural biotics to maintain the meld. It is not as simple a task when joining three people." Liara reached for Miranda's hand. "I am sorry. For initiating the meld without your permission."
Miranda quirked a brow, lacing her fingers with the asari's. "You don't have to apologize. It… it was probably the most amazing thing I have ever experienced." From any other person, the statement might have been casual hyperbole. But the former Cerberus operative was always so careful, so precise that Liara did not take it lightly.
"It was beautiful." Liara agreed. Not for the first time, she wondered how other species managed it. The meld was such a beautiful, wonderful experience; to be in perfect sync with another being (or two) was breathtaking. It made her sad for the species that could not have such an experience together. "However, it is not something I should have done without your, or Shepard's permission."
Miranda tucked one leg underneath her to give her leverage, eased forward. "She can't be mad at you for it. I'm not."
Liara felt a bit breathless as her knee touched Miranda's. "I broke a rule." She managed to say.
Miranda tilted Liara's chin with her fingers, blue eyes meeting blue. "If the commander punishes you for that, for something so… bloody wonderful, I'll punch her flat."
Liara's heart tripped in a way that had nothing to do with the other woman's encroaching physical presence. She opened her mouth, feeling panic at the prospect of their fledgling relationship, this triple, being threatened already. "You can't interfere, Miranda. Whatever Shepard does, she has a reason. We agreed—"
But the perfect woman placed a thumb over the asari's lips, silencing her. She smiled, and Liara's heart tripped again. It was a faint smile, a slight curve of the lips, but it was honest. "It was a joke, Liara." Miranda kissed her, barely. "Although I do think it is a little bloody stupid, and utterly ungrateful, to punish you for giving us both something so amazing." She withdrew her hand and sat back on her leg. "I… I wanted to say thank you, for that."
A flash of awkwardness quickly replaced the confidence that Miranda displayed, as if startled by her own actions. It was so uncharacteristic of the perfect woman, that Liara found it endearing and laughed softly. "Do you remember what you told me that night Shepard had her nightmare?" Their fingers found each other again, lacing together, unlacing, thumbs brushing over knuckles, fingertips steepling.
"That I was aware of how difficult the commander could be?" Miranda responded dryly.
"No, you told me that you liked to think that we shared more than just Shepard." Liara studied their hands. Miranda's were very different than Shepard's, smaller for a start, softer.
The weight of the statement settled over both women for many seconds. However innocently it had been uttered in the past, it now carried new meaning for both of them. Miranda drug her finger tips over Liara's palm. "I meant that. And I know what I felt when we joined, but… are you certain that you are okay with this? I would leave this moment if you told me you were unhappy or jealous or… anything. Shepard was yours first, and I have no right to intrude." As Liara opened her mouth, Miranda shook her head. "And yes, I know what I felt, how you feel… I just need to hear you say it. Call it silly human insecurity."
Liara thought, even though she already knew the answer, but she wanted to decide how to explain it in words. It was not easy, more difficult than the decision that she was okay with sharing her lover with another person. "I always knew, even from the beginning, that I could not love the commander without sharing her. She was always a part of something bigger than just the both of us. She might be my lover, my bondmate, but the problem with loving a great woman is that she is many things to many people. The hero. The savior. The soldier. The commander.
So many times I watched her leave the Normandy and knew she may not come back. And while I know that she fought to protect me, to save me from the Collectors, the Reapers, she was also fighting for the entire galaxy. And now that the war is over, she is something more. A symbol. For better or worse. And I have never… not shared her with the rest of the galaxy. Thessia. Earth. Palaven. Tuchanka. Kahje. Rannoch. In saving them, she has become part of them."
Liara inhaled an unsteady breath, felt a pang below her breast. "She saved you. And me. We are a part of her. I know she loves me. Goddess, she loves me. And I know you love her. It does not seem like a large thing to share the woman I love with another that loves her so… fiercely. In my mind, Shepard deserves that love, and I can think of no person I would rather share her with."
Silence stretched between them that was not uncomfortable. Miranda appeared studious, as if deep in thought, as if mulling over what Liara had said. "I always thought love made you weak." Miranda said suddenly. "It exposed you to vulnerability, to hurt. And then Shepard came along and barreled through all my defenses like the dumb, lumbering solder she was, ripping them away. I don't feel that way anymore. I might not be very good at showing it. In fact, I'm certain I'm probably bloody well terrible at it, but I don't think it's a weakness."
"And what about us?" Liara asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.
"I… care for you, Liara. I like you. In fact, if I really stop to think about it, besides Oriana and Shepard, I don't think there is anyone closer to me than you." Miranda shifted and folded her legs in front of her, bringing their entwined hands to rest in her lap. "I never thought about it before today, but if we love Shepard, then I would like us to do so together."
Smiling, Liara squeezed the hand in hers. "I would like that as well, Miranda."
"Besides of which, don't think I didn't catch your agreement with Shepard through the meld. I am onto you, Dr. T'soni." The quirk of the operative's lips was coy, teasing.
Tilting her head, Liara furrowed her brow, confused. "How so?"
Again, Miranda leaned forward and her whisper was thick, causing a shiver to raise bumps on Liara's skin. Having her so close was dizzying in its unfamiliarity. Shepard was the only person ever that near to her, and having Miranda so intimately close was pleasantly disorienting. "You both have been 'admiring' my ass for some time now." She was so close that her lips brushed Liara's cheek, but just barely, as she spoke.
Miranda settled back again, and Liara felt a hot flush of lavender creep up her neck and stain her cheeks.
Okay, I know I took a few liberties with canon here. I have no idea if it is ever even stated anywhere whether or not asari can join with more than one partner at time, but what the hell. It makes sense to me. I ran with it.