There are no fish. The aquarium water is a dull blue, lit sadly by a fluorescent light. The ship model display case is empty. The only decoration is a framed picture of Liara T'Soni on the desk. Kelly Chambers descends three steps to the main area of Shepard's cabin. The Commander sits on the bed, head in her hands.
Kelly's instinct is to go to Shepard, soothe her pain in some way. She is under strict orders from Miranda Lawson to not engage in any sort of fraternization with the Commander. Kelly could argue that a little fraternization might benefit Cerberus—but knows that the XO isn't aware of everything that happens on the Normandy SR-2. The Illusive Man would prefer to keep it that way.
Commander Shepard summoned her. Kasumi died on Zorya days ago. Kelly offered an ear, should she need it, but had not expected Shepard to take her up on the offer. "Is this a good time?" Kelly asks. She keeps some distance between them. "I could come back later if you'd be more comfortable."
Minutes pass with no response. Kelly watches the numbers on the clock change. She turns to leave and has her wrist snatched tightly. Shepard's hand is warm and clammy. Kelly glances at her. Shepard lets go. "Give me the sitrep." Kelly doesn't know what she refers to and is momentarily anxious. "Morale."
Oh. "Morale is…shaky," she says cautiously. Shepard walks around her slowly and Kelly listens to her footsteps as she tries to paint an accurate but not bleak picture. "Grunt, Thane and Zaeed appear unfazed though Thane is regretful and has said he will pray for her. Garrus is busier than ever calibrating. He wouldn't speak to me. Jacob is upset." Shepard frowns. "Does that bother you?"
"It doesn't."
Kelly watches her closely. Her voice is sure but her eyes are far away. "Miranda sent a drone to search the area. The factory was completely destroyed. No one escaped alive."
"I didn't call you up here to tell me what I already know."
"No, of course," Kelly stumbles. Shepard, who was close, pulls away again to circle her. "Jack 'doesn't care.' Samara told me to return later, as she was 'reflecting on the Code.' Miranda Lawson has denied all offers to talk. Tali'Zorah is unhappy. She didn't say it but her tone and body language…" Shepard stops, her back straightening, eyes narrowing on her. "Both she and Jacob share the opinion that Kasumi and the factory workers died needlessly for petty revenge." Kelly wonders if Shepard knows the way her chin dips slightly in thought. "I don't think you could have done more. You did all you could."
"You really believe all that shit you spout or are you trying to reassure me?" Shepard rubs the back of her neck and sits on the couch. There's a beat. "It was a bad call. I've been making a lot of those lately." There's a tired, defeated smile in her voice.
Kelly thinks to the bold woman who took her on the bed not minutes after her first initial visit. Kelly had been excited. She thought maybe there could be more. Shepard disagreed. Kelly doubts Shepard remembers it happened. It takes a certain pathology to create that kind of individual. "How are you, Commander?"
"I'm great. Just look at me." Shepard looks at her and smiles. It's enough to fluster most individuals. She is scar-free and beautiful. Her eyes are luminescent. Kelly is still. The Commander may be in denial, or she has simply been through a long enough military career that a loss of life is expected. She lost many soldiers at Torfan. She lost Ashley Williams and Urdnot Wrex on Virmire. She came through those okay. Then again, she died not long after they did. Kelly cautiously takes a seat next to her. Shepard follows her movements, stares. "Are you trying to determine whether I'm fit for duty? Soon as we're done here you'll run to Miranda or the Illusive Man, won't you?" Her tone and look is playful but Kelly doesn't doubt for a second she means her words.
"No," she says defensively. She'll only run to one. "I wouldn't." The lie comes easily to her. She was selected by the Illusive Man himself. She knows what's at stake and how important it is that the mission succeeds. The rest of the crew can think she's a coffee girl. She knows her value. "I care about you, Commander. If you want to talk, I'm always happy to listen. Even off the record." She smiles nervously. Shepard continues to look at her. "I can't force you to. No one can force you into anything."
There's another long silence where Shepard stares at her. Kelly's unsettled, thinking back to the labs she worked in with particularly ill patients. She remembers how they stared blankly for so long. Sometimes nothing happened. Other times they made a move, a lunge for her. Both were…unpleasant.
"I was better than this before. Everything feels… out of control," her voice is husky and raw for a moment. As if she were crying or near tears but her eyes are dry, her face emotionless. Her fingers skim along Kelly's hair, along her cheeks. Kelly holds her breath. Then Shepard winces and stands, touching her forehead.
Kelly quickly rises to her feet. "I appreciate your confidence." And though she must immediately betray it, some small part of her would like to think the confidence was bestowed because of her particular approach.
Shepard smiles. There's something light in her eyes, some thought that's going unvoiced, something Kelly doesn't want to hear. Kelly decides not to press the issue. Some part of her is disappointed that Shepard didn't attempt sexual advances, for both personal and professional reasons. As she's near the door, she stops. "You should get some fish." But Kelly thinks she only says it for her own state of mind and not Shepard's.
They left Therum almost immediately, moving to a more temperate location. Grace can't recall if she physically dragged Hope to the shuttle or held her hand. She's aware that Hope will remember it in a different way than she does.
The new safe house is better, though Grace has grown tired of the constant moving. Leaving Therum so quickly filled her with a touch of regret. Truthfully she'd been curious about visiting the area where she—where Shepard met Liara T'Soni. Hope explained that there was no point in seeing old ruins and was irritated when Grace countered that it was what they had done many times over.
Hope has been quiet and introspective, not wanting to talk, barely responding to her touches. Grace takes the time to engross herself in Liara's papers. When Hope isn't present to judge her for it, she searches for pictures of the woman, going so far as to save one on her omni-tool. It's what Shepard would do. She has to play the part, whether she wants to or not. When Grace looks at the asari's picture, she tries not to think of how Liara's lips brushed against hers—how she hadn't hated it.
The picture she's found is of Liara in a lab, wearing a green and white uniform, a datapad in hand, a nervous smile on her lips. Grace realizes she's smiling and forces her face to go neutral. Liara looked different then. Younger, more trusting somehow. Not the severe, hardened… Grace blocks her mind from going there. It is admittedly difficult.
Liara T'Soni's papers are lengthy with barely contained enthusiasm for the subject matter. They go on at length about the technology left behind, as well as detailed descriptions of the Protheans' beautiful architecture. Just thinking about the Protheans makes Grace's head hurt. It recalls the shrieking images in her mind from the Cipher. Liara's papers, at the very least, make the subject matter interesting. According to Liara, the Protheans were a wise, benevolent race that favored diplomacy and scholarship. Then something happened to them. The Reapers? Machine ships, Santos said. The image of some twisted massive bug thing comes to mind.
Hope's hand on her shoulder pulls her from…whatever it was. A memory? Something gained from a meld? She isn't sure anymore. Hope sets a hot cup of coffee beside her. Despite having been seated at the kitchen table to read over the papers, Grace hadn't noticed her come in.
"Engrossed, are we?" Hope asks.
Her tone is lighter than it has been in days. Even Grace's promise to kill Shepard hadn't been enough to lift Hope's spirits. That night Grace stepped into the shower to wash the blood away. It was too long before the water ran clear again. Hope stood at the shower door, watching her. Grace wasn't sure if some of Hope's confidence waned with the washing of the blood. It brought back hazy memories of what she first remembers of Hope. Showers. Embarrassing showers when she had to be hosed down. Hope took care of her. Watched over her. Why can't she remember anything before then? Does she have to? Overcome with fondness, Grace reached out, pulling her close and kissing her. Hope let her, lips soft and grazing as a butterfly's wings against hers, not seeming to mind that she was getting soaked.
Grace smiles grimly. "I'm reading the 'Prothean expert's' papers." Though her tone is condescending she doesn't have anything immediately dismissive to say. "It doesn't help me clear up what was in the Cipher, though. Or what could have happened to the Protheans. Other than they were wiped out fifty thousand years ago. Approximately." It's awfully specific and vague in one. "According to her papers, the Protheans were a united people. I can't imagine what war might have happened to wipe them out so completely."
"Don't let those papers put stars in your eyes about the Protheans," Hope sits to the side of her, taking a drink from the steaming hot coffee and not flinching. Grace has an experimental sip and burns her tongue. "They're a little…shall we say, naïve?" She begins to turn the computer and Grace quickly exits out of the small windows she had of Liara's pictures. Hope looks at her questioningly, looks at the screen with the paper on it and turns it back in Grace's direction.
"She's been studying them longer than we've been alive," Grace says. A small smirk touches Hope's lips. Grace feels as if she's being made fun of but has nothing to back up the suspicion. Her cheeks warm. "She's the only Prothean expert." And suddenly her attempt to seem facetious earlier only makes her true feelings the more obvious. She frowns. "That must count for something."
"She is the lone voice on Protheans. All she has are romanticized ideals and dreams, studying a race that was extinguished before…" Hope shakes her head. "I can't even come up with an adequate comparison of how off the mark she may be. She may be a hundred and eight years old but that's nothing to the asari. She's barely out of her teenage years," she takes another drink of the scalding coffee. "But by all means, study up. I assume Shepard was moved by the same drivel."
"I'm not moved by it," Grace snaps lightly. She shuts the computer, annoyed. Hope smiles palely, as if having won an argument. Grace knows that there's room for error. Lots of room for error. Without records, it's nearly impossible to ascertain what the truth of a race or period in time was, without a living, breathing being around to tell one about it. All Liara T'Soni has are suppositions. But hers are better than most, she gathers. At the very least, Liara is trying to understand. All Grace knows is that the Protheans are dead, wiped out. "You're feeling better."
Hope taps a finger on the table. "I was able to intercept a message some time ago. I don't think Shepard's going to make a visit anytime soon so I'll expect you to go and see what you can scrounge up." She pushes the coordinates to Grace on a piece of paper.
Grace recognizes the location immediately. Dread fills her. She touches the paper hesitantly as if it were enough to burn her. She can't say she remembers a fire. It's more like she feels heat all over her. That same breathlessness in her lungs and then cold. She hadn't thought Hope would ask her to visit this place, to see the skeletal remains of the Normandy. "I'll go right away." She stands. Hope frowns and Grace finishes the coffee straight away, gulping down the burning liquid.
"I'm not ready."
"I'm going on my own." Her voice tells Hope the matter isn't up for discussion.
The search for Oriana is futile but Miranda can't abandon it. Her time, her loyalties belong solely to Cerberus. Her investigation must always wait for the very limited free time she has. She swallows the crippling disappointment when she turns up nothing.
The Illusive Man is questioning why Kasumi Goto is dead. When Miranda near-heatedly responded that it was for the same reason that Oriana had gone missing: Shepard and the Illusive Man's incompetence, their unwillingness to face that not all was as it should be—the Illusive Man shifted the blame back to her. It is her job to control Shepard, it is her job to assist Shepard however possible. A severe, emotionless reprimand and warning, along with an exhalation of smoke and the flash of his peculiar eyes were all he gave Miranda before dismissing her.
Thus far Shepard's beat Jacob senseless, Oriana has been lost (Miranda reminds herself Oriana's life is not a particular asset to the mission—despite how her security would ease Miranda's mind) and Kasumi is dead. Shepard skulked into her office like a dog with its tail between its legs to report the news. Perhaps she was too shocked or stupid to realize their life signs are actively monitored on the Normandy. What the bloody hell were you thinking, Shepard? Miranda demanded, but Shepard had stared at a wall, her jaw clenched, eyes glossy.
That was nearly two weeks ago. Damn it. There's still so much to do. The Collectors continue to abduct human colonies. Shepard has been calmer recently, no crewmembers beaten into a coma anyway, and she's taken care to debrief with Miranda after missions. She ought to be satisfied but she is not. Perhaps living in the shadow of perfection has molded her to demand it from everybody else.
She wonders, absently, what happened to the batch of clones that was made. They were meant to be Shepard's personal chop shop. Maybe there's a brain with a control chip they could swap out. Her lips nearly curl at the snide thought but stills when Shepard walks in. She palms the doorway hesitantly and Miranda, who hadn't realized she was pacing, stops. Miranda lifts her arms lightly, almost as if throwing them up in frustration. "Shepard."
"Is this a good time?"
"I can't recall the last time we've had one of those," she sits and nods at the chair in front of her. "I imagine you know that just as well as I do." Shepard enters uncertainly before sitting. They stare at one another. Shepard's usual contempt is missing but Miranda has trouble hiding her vexation. She has a drink from her glass of water and laces her fingers, squaring her shoulders and leaning forward. "I'm a busy woman. If you have something, make it quick." She's got her work to do and some of Shepard's on top of it.
Luckily some of the video feeds have come back online. The irritating quarian didn't do it for her sake, she's sure—but Miranda's seen her spending time with Garrus in the battery. Maybe they're finally beginning to realize that Cerberus isn't the enemy—or at least, that they aren't helping matters any by sabotaging the ship they happen to be serving on.
"I want to see Liara," Shepard says. Miranda bites her tongue lightly, looking at her nails so as not to roll her eyes, before looking to Shepard again. "…I need to get my head on straight."
"Really, Shepard? What does 'getting your head on straight' usually mean? Heading to Illium takes time. Are you sure there isn't another crewmember you could fraternize with?"
"Are you offering?" Shepard asks. There's no smile in the question. Her eyes are menacing. Miranda leans back in the chair and waits. "A while back you sent me some information on the Shadow Broker. I don't know why I've waited so long. I think… I didn't want Liara to see me the way I was." She sounds far away, as if she were reciting a message for some audio log instead of having a conversation. "I know we've got to buckle down," she rubs her forehead gently, "and I know I've made mistakes. I just need to make things right. I just…need to see some things through."
Miranda takes a breath and crosses one leg over another. Shepard stares at the corner of the desk. Is she embarrassed? Has she become sheepish? What thought is she lost in? The holographic representation of EDI pops up by Shepard. "The fish you've requisitioned are available in your cabin, Commander Shepard. Yeomen Kelly Chambers is preparing them as we speak."
"Not now, EDI," Miranda snaps. EDI disappears. Fish? She nearly loses her train of thought. "Well, Shepard, I can't imagine why you're here. This is your ship. You're in charge. You've made that abundantly clear. We set course where you like, when you like. Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm guessing taking on the Shadow Broker is no light business," Shepard says with a faint smile. Miranda returns it wryly. "I know it's dangerous. And I know I've… let some people down. I don't want to do that anymore. I'm setting course for Illium. And I want Garrus and you to come with me." She stands, setting her hands on the desk, meeting Miranda's gaze head on. "That's not a request."
Ah, Illium. Garrus looks around. Seems like he only ever gets to come out when Liara's involved. Normally he'd crack a joke about being Shepard's wingman but he knows when to press and when to step back. He frowns thoughtfully. Maybe he stepped back for too long. Now Miranda Lawson is around, humorless as ever, no doubt babysitting.
Lots of asari in Illium. Garrus can't say they've ever been his type, though he's found the more flexible dancers to be…captivating. He would hazard Shepard is asarisexual (and hates that he even has to think of these things) what with Sha'ira, Liara, and if the scuttlebutt holds true—Samara. Most species don't cross over to others but Shepard's different. He wonders how much of it has to do with some fetish or her fixation on Liara. Last time they were here he was worried and Shepard was so pissed off from whatever happened between her and Liara that Garrus learned to leave well enough alone.
Now they're traipsing through Illium and they're off to see her again. Shepard means business—she doesn't so much as bat an eye at the other asari. Maybe it's because everything on Illium is monitored. He thinks, absently, that this 'shore leave' will be enough time for Tali to finish re-establishing vid feeds. He's grateful but doesn't doubt that it'll lead to another debate with the quarian. Tali has a way of putting him through the ringer and honestly, he doesn't blame her.
Maybe he built up Shepard too much in his mind. Hell, he's made mistakes before. He trusted the wrong person and lost his entire squad to Sidonis. Shepard's been through a mess of trouble. Got blown up, got brought back and from the sound of it—got rejected by Liara T'Soni. Garrus never thought Shepard would be serious about anyone. He's seen men lose it before, drowning themselves in drink and women. It's a coping mechanism and Shepard isn't the kind to see a shrink. Kelly Chambers pops absently into his head. He wonders if she'll be doing more than feeding fish.
They arrive at Liara's office. The receptionist from before—Nyxeris, is missing. Shepard is sweating and pale. She takes a breath and smiles back at them anxiously. Miranda's brow furrows gently. "Give me a minute," she says and walks in, the doors shutting close with a finality behind her.
Garrus clears his throat. Miranda takes a breath, walks in a small circle. Her heels clack on the floor before she settles and rests against a wall, crossing her arms gingerly. Garrus wonders how tall she is without the boots. Normally he'd ask but Miranda isn't like the old Normandy crew and doubts she could stand up to any decent ribbing. He scratches his mandible and stares at the door to Liara's office.
He and Miranda have talked about Shepard before. He gave Miranda a hard time. Lately even doing calibrations isn't enough to stop him from sweating bullets. "So, the Shadow Broker," he says to Miranda. "Should be a walk in the park." He pretends he didn't see her roll her eyes. He clears his throat again. This isn't awkward in the slightest. He looks at the door again and hopes desperately that this isn't a conjugal visit.
Shepard isn't sure what she expected when she walked through the door. She often imagined Liara enthralled with her face reconstruction, unable to deny her any longer. Shepard constructed many similar, elaborate scenarios. They come to her while staring at her cabin ceiling in the middle of the night unable to sleep.
It's so hard to sleep.
In her most daring fantasies, Liara joins her of her own free will, without needing the Shadow Broker intel as bait. She loves her. She would be with her because she asked. Liara would need only her.
Liara looks at her quizzically. "Are you all right…?" she takes a tentative step forward. Shepard's disappointed in the greeting. The last time she visited her face was coming apart, glowing unnaturally. Liara studies her as if she looks worse. Shepard curses herself for being so nervous, for building this up so much in her mind that it couldn't possibly meet expectations. "I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."
Soon? Shepard wipes sweat from her brow. "It hasn't felt like 'soon' to me, Liara." Liara nods. To Shepard's chagrin, Liara retreats, going to the desk and touching it somewhat aimlessly. "You could have sent word. Email. Anything."
"You know why I haven't," she says lightly. Shepard scowls. This is all wrong. This is disappointing. A part of her wants to restore Liara's faith and give her the intel. Another part wants to exit the office and leave her to fend for herself. She was an idiot to believe that Liara felt the same way. She's in her maiden years. Who the hell knows how she's been passing her time? Shepard thinks about coming clean with her actions. She bites back the confession, terrified of Liara's indifference. "I see why others admire your determination. You won't give up until you get the answer you want. There's some charm in that," but she says it as if it were an afterthought.
Shepard moves closer. "How do you like my face?" Seeking approval has never been her style. If it were anyone else, she would laugh at them. Liara used to make her feel as if she were on top of the world. So why does she feel like dirt?
"It's as pleasant as usual, Jane." She ducks her chin thoughtfully. "I… have been thinking of our last meeting." Shepard straightens. "I shouldn't have kissed you. It was…unfair. I know I said that… but it doesn't absolve me of my wrongdoing." Shepard barely hears the words. Her heart plummets. She's dizzy and cold. She can't recall Liara saying anything like that but isn't able to focus long enough to think it through. She can think of nothing to say. Her mouth is dry. Liara pushes away from the desk. "Are you all right?" she asks again, more quietly this time.
Shepard flexes her fingers and turns abruptly from her, assaulted by vertigo and anger. "That kiss was the only thing I've been able to hold on to," she says hoarsely. "It's the only thing I've had." She's sweating more than ever. Maybe Chakwas should check her. She's not well.
Liara touches her arm and Shepard whirls violently to look at her. Liara is still. Her expression is unreadable. Is she afraid?
Shepard brings a hand to her face, tries to get a hold of her breathing, tries not to cry. How is this happening? How did she let things get this way? Shepard struggles for words, for anything that will take the hurt away. She could leave her. She could leave her to rot, let her waste her life chasing after the Shadow Broker. It isn't the same Liara anymore. Not really. Screw Liara and whatever friend the Shadow Broker has captive.
Liara's eyes settle on her. They're curious and worried. She's a little paler than usual. Her freckles stand out vividly against her skin. Liara breathes her name and Shepard swallows.
"Miranda and Garrus are here," Shepard says somewhat shakily. "We know where the Shadow Broker is. You can be finished with all of this. You can be finished with all of this, Liara," she takes her hands desperately, "and then you can come with me. Once this is done you can come with me, can't you?"
Liara's lips part and then close, her head turning. "I… can't make any promises." She pulls her hands carefully away. Shepard latches onto them again. "But… it's something to consider."
Shepard closes her eyes, relief washing over her. Everything will be all right. Everything will finally be all right.
Tela Vasir squeezes off three shots. They fire silently from the sniper rifle. Two to the heart, one to the head, but Liara's prepared. The barrier is impressive, especially for a maiden. Guess Matriarch Benezia's little pureblood bitch learned a thing or two from her mother.
Tela smiles, impressed. She imagined it would be a simple hit but a little game of cat and mouse never killed anyone—except her target. It's too bad. Tela liked Benezia, looked up to her. But Benezia is gone now and the Shadow Broker wants Liara gone. The lives of the Council, the lives of the greater good outweighs killing off a nosy asari who doesn't know to leave well enough alone.
Rain falls heavily. She leaves the sniper rifle and picks up the skyline hook, positions it perfectly, letting it spring forward to embed into a wall the next building over. It's a gap of nearly a hundred feet. It would make for a nasty fall. Tela secures the hook on her side before slapping the metallic hook onto the thick cord. She zip-lines over to the other building, looking at the black all around her, the colorful lights of buildings illuminating the skies. She keeps an eye out for Liara, ready to take her out the second she sets sights on her but sees nothing.
Tela rips open the roof door and makes her way down quickly to Liara's apartment. The building is monstrous and it takes her minutes to sprint down the stairs.
The apartment security has been disabled and she strolls in. The apartment is massive. Netting a place like this on Illium can't be cheap. She leaves the M-15 Vindicator on her back, opting for the Acolyte at her side. Let's see you try to put a barrier up now.
The apartment is dark, things scattered. Tela spots the bullet casings on the floor by the window. She hears a noise and does a one-eighty, Acolyte primed but there's no one. Frowning she moves to the door but sees nothing to either side of her on the hallway. She quickly searches the rest of the apartment. She's gone.
She's got to give it to her. She's fast. Irritated, she holsters the Acolyte and calls in the Illium police. They're largely incompetent, more used to dealing with white collar crime than any criminal investigation, but they dutifully cordon off the area and begin to search for clues.
She knows that Shepard is in league with Liara. Nothing she would have ever gotten a whiff of if it wasn't for the Shadow Broker. The Spectre arrives with Garrus Vakarian and Miranda Lawson in tow. Tela takes Lawson in. Not bad for a human. Her eyes are like splinters of ice settling coolly over her.
Shepard, on the other hand, looks nearly distraught. "Shepard," Tela strides over, takes her hand firmly. "Tela Vasir." Shepard's hand is cold and clammy, despite the strong grip. "If you're looking for Liara T'Soni you're too late. Looks like someone made an assassination attempt. They should have known better than to think it'd be so easy."
"What do we know?" Shepard asks.
Tela goes through the routine. If the Shadow Broker is right about Shepard and T'Soni (he hasn't steered Tela wrong so far), then Shepard might be the key to tracking her. Tela watches her move around the apartment, half-desperate, half-dazed. She stops at a display with broken N7 armor, touching a hand to the glass. Looks like the Shadow Broker was on the money.
"Well, this is a great start," Garrus remarks dryly, wiping rain from his crests and face. He goes to the window to study the bullet holes. "It's a good thing for all of us the shooter was an amateur and not Archangel."
Tela scowls at him. Miranda turns to her. "You're a Spectre, aren't you? I wasn't aware Spectres spent a lot of time on Illium. Surely your efforts could be better placed elsewhere."
"Aren't you with Cerberus?" Tela asks. "Maybe I should launch an investigation into your presence on Illium. Cerberus and aliens don't mix well, do they?" She smiles as Miranda's lips thin, eyebrows narrowing.
"I found something!" Shepard calls from upstairs, bringing down a framed photograph of some Prothean ruin. Soon they begin searching through Liara's apartment for every ugly item Liara thought to salvage and enshrine. Shepard looks pensive throughout, nodding at something Garrus says when he claps his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.
What a hot mess. Tela would have someone kill her before she let herself become so pathetic. At least, she tells herself, Shepard won't pose any threat if she decides to make trouble. Shepard finds a disc with a conversation between Sekat and Liara. She's headed to the Dracon Trade Center. The Shadow Broker wants them both eliminated. "Good work, Shepard," Tela tells her. Now she'll be able to take care of them both.
Liara practically leaps from the car and onto the terrace of the Dracon Trade Center. So, Tela Vasir is trying to kill her. Good. It means she's getting close to the Shadow Broker. The more men they send after her, the closer she knows she is. Let the Shadow Broker send his forces after her. She'll tear them apart and save him for last.
Puddles of water splash as she runs past the mobs of people and into the building. Her lungs are on fire. This is it. Two years of hunting the Shadow Broker, two years of mourning Shepard are about to come to a close. She would have liked to find the Shadow Broker herself but it's fitting that Shepard brought her the intel.
In the end, she's always been there for her, no matter their… disagreements. She takes out the M-6 Carnifex at her side, sweeping it over her surroundings as she moves. All she sees are worried employees. They probably think her mad, soaked in rainwater, wearing a hardsuit and a lab coat, ready for a fight. If they're smart they'll stay out of her way. She can't risk losing the Shadow Broker's trail.
She pulls up Sekat's location on her omni-tool and is nearly to the elevators when the floor starts trembling. Instinct makes her raise a barrier at the last instant and it likely saves her life. A massive column snaps over the barrier and she's blasted back, slamming into the metallic foundation of an enclosed garden.
Liara gets to her feet just in time to see mercenaries begin to filter into the building. Normally she'd worry. Today she is vindicated. She is wrath personified. She gave up two years of her life for Shepard—as did Feron. If Shepard knew the truth… she doesn't know. His sacrifice will not be in vain. Perhaps she's foolish to hope that Feron lives, but if Shepard can come back from that… hunk of tubes and flesh that she was, then Feron can survive.
She makes her way up the building, finding alternate routes when she reaches collapsed areas, avoiding the flames that have sprung up from everywhere. The water sprinkling system isn't enough to douse the fire. Whoever is after her is surely after Sekat. She is merciless as she moves, freezing the Shadow Broker's agents with stasis before blowing their brains out. The woman Shepard knew would have flinched at that. Liara doesn't flinch anymore.
She is unaware of how much time has passed when she reaches the floor to rendezvous with Sekat. All she knows is Shepard and her squad have beaten her to the punch. And there's Tela Vasir in the midst of it all. Liara enters the room, gun honed on Tela. Shepard doesn't question her for a moment, lifting the M-22 Eviscerator in Tela's direction the moment she sees Liara's target. Warm relief floods over Liara, the rain and water sprinkling system not enough to keep her cool. "Talk to me," Shepard says.
"She's working for the Shadow Broker," Liara says through gritted teeth. "She tried to take me out earlier." Her eyes narrow as she spots Sekat's lifeless body slumped to the side. "I'll make her wish she had."
"You're the bad shot?" Garrus asks, training his Phaeston rifle on Tela. "A Spectre! You should be embarrassed."
"Oh, screw this," Tela says. With a biotic pull she yanks the roofs down over their heads. Liara creates another barrier. It begins to crack as concrete hammers into it. Liara meets Shepard's eyes. She smiles reassuringly. Liara returns it. All of this chaos and the two of them are together. It's just like old times. Maybe they can be together again. Maybe.
Liara looks away. She can't get lost in eyes and smiles. She can't forget the things Shepard has done. She flings the collapsed materials at Tela but she's good—she dodges. An instant later Shepard's knocked Tela out the window.
The two of them go tumbling down, fighting as they fall. Liara doesn't wait. She goes after them. When Tela kicks Shepard to the ground and makes a run for it, Liara doesn't stop, doesn't look back. It's had to be this way for two years. She can't stop now. She won't. Not even for Shepard.
Shepard is a bloody marvel. Miranda wonders if she's made a mistake, if she misjudged her. Shepard may drive like a maniac, but Tela Vasir is exceptional and Shepard is holding her own. Miranda has never battled a biotic Spectre before, a matron or matriarch even. Vasir's biotic capabilities are more than good. The shockwaves she sends in her direction are enough to tear through her shields as if they were nothing.
She throws herself behind cover when she can. While she and Liara scramble to keep their shields up, to get them recharging, Shepard is hurling herself at Vasir over and over again.
Shepard doesn't give Vasir any ground, which gives Miranda and Liara the chance to focus their energies on dispensing with the Shadow Broker's soldiers. One by one, sometimes in clusters, they strip them of their shields, setting off biotic detonations, exchanging quick smiles as they whittle down the assailants.
When they're finished, they turn back to Shepard whose face is bleeding and sweaty. She's radiant, the manifestation of vengeance. If Liara, breathless next to her, is any indication, she feels the same. It's impossible to get a clean shot in. Shepard and Vasir are like two raging titans engaged in an all-out brawl.
The restaurant-goers outside of Hotel Azure have long since gone running for shelter. The ground is dotted with red and purple blood. It would be impossible to get in close without being blasted back. It isn't as if she's never fought a vanguard—but never like these two. Their primal screams and grunts of exertion are the only thing that can be heard. The foundation is cracked, the ground torn open as if by an earthquake.
Vasir manages to get some space and fire off a shot from her Acolyte. Like that, Shepard's barrier is gone. If she's afraid, she doesn't show it. She closes the gap. Her omni-blade comes out and with a dodge and a swipe, Vasir's hand falls to the ground, still clenching the Acolyte. Shepard charges again, burying a knee in her gut and then slamming it into her face while she's hunched over. Vasir folds over backwards, collapsing to the ground.
Miranda and Liara run to them. "End of the line, Vasir," Shepard growls. Purple blood oozes out of Vasir's arm, her face bruised and swollen. "A Spectre working for the Shadow Broker. You're barely a step above Saren."
"Fuck you," Vasir spits, sliding back, trying to prop herself to a sitting. She grips her bleeding stump with the other hand. Shepard follows her movement with narrowed eyes. Vasir will live. Rather, she would live, but Miranda doubts Shepard will allow it. "I'm saving lives. As many as you! You're with a terrorist organization and you're judging me?" she coughs. Liara looks at her curiously, her features softening somewhat but not enough to forgive her, to spare her. "You're not better than me."
Shepard stoops beside her. "I'm not." She says softly. "It's too bad, Vasir. You're good. We could have worked together. I'm not better than you. Chances are I've done things a whole hell of a lot worse than you have. Yeah, I work for Cerberus. They brought me back. I owe them. Some of them aren't even all that bad. I'd say it's about on par with working for the Shadow Broker. You do what you need to do to get things done. I respect that. You hadn't come after Liara, I could have let it go. You could have disappeared. But you did. You fucked yourself." The omni-blade is out again and before Miranda can blink it's buried in Vasir's stomach.
Vasir emits a small sound as Shepard drags the blade up, blood spilling over her hands, over her armor. Liara's face softens before her eyes go hard. She turns away from the sight. A shame, Miranda thinks. Shepard's face is at ease. Peaceful.
Shepard gives her the tour. She is somewhat nervous, which Liara doesn't understand. At times she trips over her words. She breaks too often into those infrequent smiles Liara rarely saw before. The Normandy SR-2 has been upgraded greatly. The crewmembers are cheerful and friendly. Shepard tried to talk on Illium. Liara, so focused on getting onto the Normandy and starting the course for Hagalaz, refused to engage in the conversation.
Shepard was notably angry. Miranda kept her distance. She and Liara exchanged glances, trying to pretend the other was not there. The Normandy could not arrive soon enough as she and Shepard stood at a standstill in tense silence.
Shepard introduces her to the squad. Some, like Miranda, she's met before. Others she hasn't. But as Shepard makes introductions, Liara puts faces to names. There's Kelly. Samara. Jack. Liara wonders if Shepard had been fucking the convict when she brought her the first time or only turned to her after the fact. She sent all those emails.
Liara isn't sure that she's angry. There's some of that. Mostly she's emptied of emotion, left hollow. For two years she has fought to be emotionless. She can't let the walls down now. The Shadow Broker is still out there. Feron remains imprisoned—if she's lucky.
She and Shepard had something of a rocky start. She made a fool of herself and Liara was never sure if Shepard was interested in Staff Lieutenant Alenko. There were many miscommunications along the way. Some of them her own, she can admit that. But Shepard is unconventional, unpredictable, impossible to read. The first time Shepard kissed her, Liara thought she'd imagined it. She worried it was only a game to the Commander, who had a reputation for breaking hearts.
Shepard's words are wonderful. The emotion in her voice seems real. Yet actions speak louder. They tell Liara that her mourning may have been for nothing. Liara once again has to push the thoughts away. More introductions and reunions. Tali has grown quickly in two years. She has a different way of carrying herself. Donnelly and Daniels are like a bickering old couple. Liara hears them whispering to each other about her relationship to Shepard when they exit Engineering. Daniels reminds Donnelly to mind his own damn business. Liara smiles but Shepard glares back at them.
They step into the elevator and Shepard slams a fist into the emergency brake as soon as they're between floors. She's trapped them. Liara stares at the numbers on the elevator panel. "You have got to look at me," Shepard says. Liara blinks and looks at her. There are flecks of blood on her face from her earlier encounter with Vasir. She's pale and raw with emotion, her hazel eyes shifting to bluer than usual. "We need to talk." Liara licks her lips. "We've got time until we get to Hagalaz. Come to my cabin. Talk with me. Please."
Liara can't swallow the knot in her throat. She nods instead. Shepard hits the button on the panel and the elevator ascends again. Shepard waits until Liara steps out on the cabin floor to follow after her.
The cabin isn't where it used to be. It was where Miranda's office now is. Liara considers space specific memory. Everything's different now. She looks at the fish in the tank and back to Shepard. "It looks better than before." Her framed picture on the desk catches her attention. Liara's breath hitches. Guilt bubbles inside of her. Has she been cruel to Shepard? Is it the reason she has turned to debauchery? "I know you don't agree with what I'm doing. Feron's important to me." Shepard grimaces. "I don't know how much Miranda has told you about… how… Cerberus got your body." Shepard arches her eyebrows in question. "It's a long story. I'll make it short. I was told by Feron that your body had been recovered. The Shadow Broker was looking to give it to the Collectors." Even voicing the plan aloud is enough to momentarily paralyze her. "I had…objections. But as you might understand, standing up to the Blue Suns and the Shadow Broker is no easy task. I wasn't then what I am now. When Miranda offered to help me recover your body… When they said they could bring you back, I couldn't say no." Her voice wilts, fading away. "I gave you to them. I gave you to Cerberus. I couldn't stand the thought of the last time I saw you being…" she thinks of the body in the pod. Unrecognizable. Just tissue with hints of a human form. Liara had fallen to the floor in tears during transport. She takes a slow, deep breath. She can't look at her.
"Liara… hey." She goes to her, palms her face. Her hand is warm now, solid. "It's all right. I was…pissed off before. Lost. But none of that matters anymore. I don't give a damn that you gave me to Cerberus. They brought me back. You brought me back. And if I'm alive another day to see you, to be with you… anything's worth that. Anything."
Liara's eyes sting. She curls her fingers around Shepard's hand, drawing it away from her face. She holds it briefly before releasing it. She faces the photograph Shepard has framed of her. "I know what you've been doing. I know about Kelly and Samara. I know about Jack. Goddess knows who else there is." Her voice is detached. The air is still. "You say such… tender things. But there's no softness to you. All you have are words. Empty words. I was naïve before. I believed you, Jane." She looks at her. Shepard ducks her head shamefully, her cheeks red. She reaches for her. Liara pulls away. "I look at you and… sometimes it's easy. And sometimes, when I let myself think of it, I can't stand the sight of you."
Shepard's fingers curl and uncurl. Her lower lip juts out slightly in a pout, perhaps. It trembles. Shepard swallows. "I thought we weren't going to talk about any of this until after Hagalaz," she says lightly but there is an unsteadiness to her voice. Liara watches her coldly. "I have been so angry at you," she starts. Liara waits. "I should be fucking furious. Cerberus?" She shakes her head. "I was dead. When I went to you it was as if it didn't even matter. I didn't even matter." Liara won't argue with her. How Shepard could believe that she doesn't care is beyond her. Shepard stops. Shrugs. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters." She paces. Wipes her face with her hand. "I admit it. I've screwed around."
"You didn't admit anything until I told you I knew," Liara retorts. "Would you have said anything? Would you?" she demands.
Shepard shakes her head, looking more lost by the second. "I don't know." There's a beat. "I wanted to. I wanted to hurt you." Liara laughs bitterly. "But I thought… if you knew… if you knew and it didn't bother you it would kill me." She takes Liara's wrist. "If you only knew what you reduce me to." Liara yanks her arm but can't get it loose. "If you only knew how you destroy me." Liara gives another solid yank of her arm. She doesn't get it free until Shepard lets her go.
"I don't want to talk about this now," Liara says. "We've already said too much. I will not let you emotionally compromise me before we meet the Shadow Broker. I know how you pushed and teased me before. You're not mine anymore, Commander. And I'm not yours. Whatever you think there's left to talk about can wait." The words and use of rank strike. Shepard looks away from her.
Liara fills with pride and regret. In the end, is she any better than Shepard?
Alchera makes Noveria seem warm. The shuttle door groans open. Grace immediately numbs from the cold. She puts her helmet on and steps outside. Snow spirals down lazily. Everything is a pale blue and white. Overhead she spots three moons. She mentally recalls their names: Uluru, Wandjina and Baiame, size and distance, surface temperatures before forcing herself to move on.
Frost crunches beneath her boots. The space is wide and open. The sky is pulsing with stars. There is wreckage everywhere. Grace hears screaming ringing through her mind. Fire. Stars. She looks up. There are stars but no ball of fire. She breathes unsteadily. The air is thin. Her breathing sounds far away.
There's a M35 Mako. It's relatively intact. Grace goes to it, hating the piece of shit on principle. Impossible to control, always flipping itself around. Wrex thought it was a riot. Who's Wrex? Grace remembers moments later. The dead krogan. He isn't here. He died on Virmire.
What's left here is another lifetime. It's a hell of a crash. How did Shepard escape? Were the rumors of her death greatly exaggerated? Did she do something to trick them all into thinking she had expired? Grace rethinks the word. She doesn't like 'expired.' It implies that it's only a certain amount of time before something goes bad and needs to be disposed of. According to Hope, that's Jane Shepard. The wind whips frost around. Jesus fuck it's cold. Negative thirty-two Celsius. She takes a stab at what the real-feel is with wind chill and moves through the landscape contemplating any possible assassination of Jane Shepard. She told Hope she would because it seemed important to her mental well-being.
Striking her down because Hope had a bad day doesn't seem fair. Or valid. Maybe Hope was in a mood. And because of it asked her to assassinate Commander Jane Shepard. Grace smiles sardonically thinking of it. And while she's on the subject of unlikely hypotheses she may as well venture that Hope will change their plans and suggest they live the rest of their days as pacifists.
Grace knows she's adept at killing. And she can acknowledge that she's a strong biotic. But killing Commander Shepard? There's no real reason to do it outside of Hope's request. She doesn't want her life. Yet here she is freezing her ass off for the sake of the Shepard Nostalgia Tour. Did Liara watch the Normandy go down? Did her heart break? Did she feel the air pulled out of her lungs as surely as it was pulled out of hers? Shepard's, she corrects.
Grace frowns. She doesn't pay attention to the burning in her lungs. It must be psychosomatic. It's speculation. Shepard's death was a rumor. Even the rumors don't say what happened, though the remains of the Normandy give some indication. What happened to the ship? She finds the bridge, the ceiling of the ship ripped open. Her body tenses painfully. For what feels like eternity she's dizzy and weak. She puts a hand to one of the sharp metal edges that made up the backbone of the infrastructure. Eventually it passes and she moves up to the pilot's chair. She stays there for a long time resentful and melancholy before leaving.
She walks around, spotting uniformed corpses, sad, cold and alone. She stoops by one to touch his service tags. Pressly, Charles. No time to get to an escape pod. She wonders if he died on impact. There's a datapad next to him and she reaches tentatively for it. His eyes and mouth are open as if mid-scream. He's so iced over Grace can't close his eyes. She touches his shoulder gingerly, some affection for the stranger stirring within.
She never boarded the Normandy but the crash site fills her with a profound sadness. She can imagine what it might look like. Dark corridors, curved stairs. A mass effect core, maybe. There are no records or photographs available of the inside of the Normandy. Grace doesn't anticipate she'll see the inside of it anytime soon, if ever.
She turns her attention to the datapad, hard to navigate with her gloved hands. The data's mostly corrupt. Pressly questions Shepard's fondness for aliens. He doesn't trust them. Grace felt much the same in the beginning but has of late discovered that aliens are no more unethical or morally bankrupt than humans. She doesn't buy that Hope believes any of it either. Hope's too smart to think that way. The truth is that facts aren't on the side of xenophobes.
Grace hears a noise behind her and whips around, Paladin in hand. How did someone sneak up on her? This place is unsettling. She wonders if she should drop the datapad or chuck it at the soldier to distract him before blowing him away.
"Shepard?" It's a male voice. Grace frowns. She drops the datapad and approaches, hearing her breath sound too hollow in her ears, fogging her helmet. Her helmet fogged before. She floated in the stars. The jarring, non-memory memory leaves her momentarily breathless even as she approaches the man in the black hardsuit. "It's me," he lifts his arms, "Kaidan."
"Kaidan?" she keeps the pistol up. She remembers his voice before she remembers his face. It must be in what Shiala and Sha'ira gave her.
"Hey, look. Lower the gun all right? I'm not here to make any trouble."
Grace spots a Phalanx at his side. Kaidan Alenko. A biotic. It's not the gun she has to worry about. The records indicate he's an exceptional biotic, enough to give matriarchs a run for their money. Grace doesn't want any trouble either. She does a visual search of the perimeter for what she can use if he decides he does want to make trouble. When she's found what would make suitable cover, what would be enough to cut him in half she holsters the gun. "What are you doing here?" she asks, attempting to make her voice casual.
"I got a tip from official channels. I'm guessing I'm here for the same reason you are," he takes a breath, shaking his head at the mess of metal, crates and debris scattered throughout the area. "Ah, man." She looks at him. It's hard to gauge his emotions when he's helmeted though she'd question his sanity if he decided to remove his helmet. Frostbite would settle in minutes. "We had a lot of good times on her," he says with a nod to a giant flank of the ship, NORMANDY emblazoned on the side. "Being here like this… brings me back."
"Yeah," she says, hoping it's enough of a contribution to the conversation. Still, some part of her understands his sentiment. She'll be damned if she knows how. Kaidan stoops at Pressly's body, shaking his head, muttering about it being a 'damn shame' before rising. Weapons lockers are littered haphazardly in the snow. They stare at them for too long. "It's uh—it's been a while." Who the hell knows when the last time Shepard and Kaidan Alenko met? On the Normandy? Afterward?
"Shepard…" There's a beat. "Uh—mind talking in the shuttle? Kind of cold out here." Grace nods slowly and they make their way back to where the UT-47 Kodiak he arrived in is stationed. As soon as the shuttle door closes he removes his helmet, sweating despite the cold. He's handsome. An arch of his thick eyebrow, suspicion playing on his features and Grace tentatively removes her helmet. He looks at her for a long time. "You look better than last time I saw you."
"Wish I could say the same."
He laughs. "I can't remember the last time we laughed together. Look." He considers. "About Horizon." Horizon. Grace recalls spending some time in a safe house there. Does he know about that? He can't. Her identity—whatever it is—can't have been compromised yet. "I've…been going over what happened. You know—I've… composed a few emails. I just couldn't send them." He closes his eyes, leaning back into the chair. There's a picture of the Normandy tacked beside the pilot's seat. Right beside it is a picture of her—Shepard—and Kaidan, Ashley Williams. Shepard's arms are wrapped around them, smiling brightly. She tries not to stare. "Conversations like these are better had face to face. I owe you that much…" he looks at her. Grace waits. "I said some things I shouldn't have. It's just—after everything we'd been through together… Sovereign… Ash… we saw those labs. We saw what Cerberus did. I—I just can't believe you're working with them—"
Cerberus? "Kaidan, I'm not—" she catches herself, swallows the words. For all intents and purposes, Kaidan believes that she's Jane Shepard. A wrong word could undo everything. She shuts her mouth with difficulty.
"I know what you said. Maybe you think they've changed, Shepard but I don't. If they're working for you—fine. But how long do you think that'll last?" He asks. Grace furrows her eyebrows. He takes it as encouragement, as if she's finally understanding him. "They brought you back." Back from where, Grace wonders? "You feel like you owe them, agh." He scratches his head. "I'm saying the exact same thing. I just want you to be careful." Kaidan reaches across and takes her hand. Grace looks down at it and then at him. Embarrassed, he pulls it away. "Tali sent me an email a while back? Said your plan was to load up the Cerberus cruiser with bombs and not look back."
Grace smiles thinly. "That's the plan."
"Sounds like you." He nods, smiling wryly at her. "Though I'd hate to see her go down again. Ah. I'm just being sentimental. It may have some improvements and look just like the old Normandy but it never will be. We had a lot of good memories on that ship. It can't just be replaced." Grace frowns gently. "Anyway. That's what I wanted to say. We can get back out there." With a small hiss the shuttle door comes open. The Alliance surely has access to better vehicles. His shuttle opens with ease instead of the groaning and screeching of the shuttle she touched down in. "Where'd you leave Cerberus?" he asks, slamming the door shut behind him.
In pieces on Therum. She bites her tongue. Shepard's working for Cerberus? Shepard's working for Cerberus. Did Hope know? Why not tell her? The revelation fills her with so much anger she doesn't notice the cold anymore. She wanted a reason to take down Shepard. Now she has one. Did Shepard order the hit on Hope? Did she send Kai Leng after her? But why? Does she know Hope's plan? Does she know Hope intends for Grace to replace her? "I needed a break from those assholes for a while," she says. "They shouldn't be here. Not this place. It's…personal." She's surprised she means the words.
Kaidan nods, the answer suitable. The talk is nerve-wracking but not as much as her talk with Liara. It's strange. They've spoken only once but it feels like many times. "Anderson wanted me to stop by. I heard you got this intel months ago? Guess we all thought you weren't making time for the Alliance these days." Grace doesn't have any answer for him that would be authentic. She doesn't know what he's talking about. She remains silent. "We lost a lot of good men and women. At least with this, we can give some closure to their families."
"It's the least we can do."
"I may not like who you're working with but I know how busy you are. I'll talk with Anderson and Hackett. Let them know what we found here."
She thanks him. She'd have no idea how to do those things on her own. They keep walking, Kaidan identifying bodies, sometimes only able to do so by their tags. Some bodies are too badly burned to recognize. They collect tags until they've found everyone they can.
They exchange paltry parting words, shaking hands firmly and walking in opposite directions. She's nearly to the shuttle when he calls out to her. "Hey, Shepard. Don't forget this." He chucks the object and she catches it.
An N7 helmet. Still intact, somehow. Her helmet. Shepard's helmet. A panicked restlessness fills her again. She can't speak so she raises a hand, a poor indication of her 'gratitude.' She enters the shuttle and shuts the door behind her, whipping her helmet off and taking gasping breaths of air. It's not real. Whatever panic she's feeling it isn't real. It's psychosomatic. It's all psychosomatic. She sits for a long time, wheezing for air, fighting the resentful tears burning behind her eyelids. When she's finally able to breathe she looks at Shepard's N7 helmet sitting beside her. She lifts it carefully. Moments later she calmly pulls it over her head.