Chapter 11

Lakota rummaged through the unfamiliar cupboards in her kitchen. The room she had been issued, located on the seventh floor of the Alliance owned apartments, was small but efficient. The kitchen, dining, and living rooms occupied a single open space with the bedroom and bath in separate rooms off the main. It was larger than her quarters on the Normandy, but lacking in the comforts of personal taste. The only non-standard amenity was the long balcony that overlooked the harbor which was accessible through both the bedroom and the living room.

Once she found her prize, a clear, short-rimmed glass, she placed it on the counter-top and opened the bottle of whiskey she had purchased while en route to her newly assigned quarters. She had been informed that this space was to be her temporary residence while she continued to recover, but the Spectre could read between the lines. The Alliance wanted to know what happened before the red wave of energy stopped the Reapers and felt she was the key to that knowledge, so they were going to keep a close, discerning eye on her.

She despised being watched even more than she despised thresher maws.

Biting back a fitful growl, Lakota poured the smooth amber liquid into the glass, then set the bottle back on the counter. She looked around the apartment taking note of the beige walls, off-white carpet and light brown furniture. Neutral colors which were supposed to inspire a safe, restful environment, a décor that never went out of style and mixed easily with other accent shades.

The Spectre scowled. She thought the room was bland and boring, tasteless in its benign strategy to please all.

Raking her fingers roughly through her dark, free flowing hair, Lakota reflected on the scene with Javik. She had been unusually agitated all day and that irritation had erupted so quickly beyond anger and into full force rage that she barely had time to contain her wrath and the irrational instinct to cause the Prothean harm. Yes, he had pressed her, but her impulsive reaction, the biotic push, was both excessive and unprecedented. She had no idea where that wellspring of fury originated; she just knew whenever she looked at Javik the urge to tear him apart surged through her with no filter.

Even the use of her biotic ability was a strange way for her irritation to manifest because it wasn't something she was accustomed to wielding. The capability had only emerged after being revived by the Cerberus funded Lazarus Project and as such, the innate talent had not yet been developed to its fullest potential. There just hadn't been time. The only training she had received was from Samara on the Normandy SR-2 while solving the mystery of the lost human colonists. The Justicar had guided her through some basic disciplines, but the Spectre's confidence in her biotic ability remained rudimentary at best. As an infiltrator, her sniper skills and tech tricks were the most implemented and valued tools in her arsenal.

She took a long drink from the glass in her hand, the smoky depths of whiskey flashing a golden fire even in the low illumination of the room. There was no soda or ice to cut it this night, no tempering mix to lessen its impact as it slid down her throat to land hotly in her stomach. The burning sensation helped distract her from her thoughts just as she knew the alcohol would eventually deaden and dull her mind and ease the constant throbbing ache in her head. The medication Chakwas had issued only helped in taking the edge off her migraine, she was counting on the strong liquid to quiet the rest.

Crossing the room to stand outside on the balcony, Lakota appraised the tranquil scene of twilight settling on the landscape. The view of the harbor spanned across the entire bay including the mouth which opened up to the ocean and continued to the indefinite line on the horizon. The night was cool and the sun had already disappeared from view, but the evening rays that stretched across the skyline consisted of burnt orange and yellow hues which were nothing short of spectacular as they reflected off the soft clouds and rippling water.

Liara's absence when she'd been released from the medical facility had been both disappointing and disconcerting. The inability to reach her after leaving the firing range, the unreturned calls and subsequent unanswered message, added to the hurt and sense of loneliness the miscommunication produced. She tried to blame bad timing for their inability to connect, but of late there seemed to be no good time for quality moments to occur. Every day more and more of the researcher's time and attention had been drawn to her work as the Shadow Broker. With the galaxy's masses recovering from their would be annihilation, a unique opportunity to place agents in key positions within various government branches had arisen, but timing such critical arrangements was tricky and the Asari had often been called away or stayed away working long, unpredictable hours.

Months ago, not long after Liara had taken up the reins as the Shadow Broker, Lakota realized that the position was far more than just an occupation and its implications were defined well beyond that of just one individual. To the best of the Spectre's knowledge, the Asari was the third person to seize control of the vast network which was secretly threaded into every known corner of the universe, but she sometimes wondered if its history could be traced to an even early date in time. Only a handful of individuals were privy to the knowledge that the researcher was now the head of the expansive organization and even fewer knew the intricacies and personal sacrifices the job demanded. Recently, the Spectre was all too aware of these overarching obligations and the constraints and complications they provoked within intimate relationships.

For most, the Shadow Broker was an enigmatic, mysterious and omniscient entity who worked through agents selling information, classified or mundane, to the highest bidder. For Lakota, the Shadow Broker was a mere image or illusion tied to a concept which went beyond the reach of just one person. A single individual may pull the strings, but the Shadow Broker was a personage created to be larger than life, perceived as being everywhere at once, and designed to have unparalleled sway over people and governments. But even with a network spreading out across the galaxy like an intricately woven spider's web, the centerpiece was still a singular mortal being who could be quietly and efficiently removed from existence. The first known Broker was usurped by his Yagh servant while the Yagh was overthrown by Liara, albeit with help from some of her friends. Each of these hostile takeovers was implemented without the Shadow Broker network collapsing and with none of the established agents being aware of the transfer of power. This was the intrinsic dilemma with the Shadow Broker idea as a whole—its greatest strength, solitude and secrecy, was also its greatest weakness.

And now her lover was running the infamous information network which consumed so much of her focus and energy that Lakota had only seen her sporadically for short periods of time over the last few days. She fleetingly wondered if the Asari's role had always been this demanding or if she was just noticing now because she wasn't currently engrossed in her duties as an Alliance officer or Council Spectre. Either way, in the solitude of her apartment, the Spectre admitted she was becoming resentful of the time her lover's job necessitated.

Sighing heavily, Lakota took another drink, draining the glass, and holding her breath as the liquid burned a path down her throat settling like molten lava in her empty stomach. Belatedly she remembered that she skipped lunch in favor of quick departure from the medical facility.

Spinning on her heel, she returned to the kitchen and then refilled the glass while debating the merits of ordering food. When she placed the bottle back on the countertop, an unfamiliar chirp rang out in the room. Her eyes scanned the area trying to decipher which appliance had disturbed the silence, then the chirp sounded out again. The odd chime was her new apartment's version of a doorbell. She briefly thought of ignoring it, but knew there was only one person who would already be privy to the location of her living arrangements and who would call on her unannounced. She also knew that person would either stand outside the door indefinitely until she was let in or would hack the security system and let herself in. Lakota smirked at the latter scenario, but thought better of it and walked over to the entryway in order to disable the lock.

The doors swooshed open to find Liara, dressed in her blue and white jumpsuit, waiting nervously in the hallway.

The two women just looked at each other for what could only have been a few seconds, but to Lakota, it felt like an eternity. Finally, she tilted her head and greeted the newcomer. "Hello, Liara."

The researcher appeared flustered by the polite if not somewhat cool greeting. "Shepard, I—"

Without waiting for the Asari to finish her sentence, the Spectre turned abruptly heading toward the entryway to the balcony, trying to stifle the overwhelming hurt and disappointment that surged through her. Seeing Liara at the door to the apartment was just an inconvenient reminder that the Asari had been too busy to be at the hospital when Lakota was discharged or return her calls this afternoon.

The human came to a halt before passing through the threshold that led to the balcony, her eyes staring out across the bay. "Can I get you a drink?" she said, tilting her head slightly, catching the researcher in the corner of her eye while lifting the glass of amber liquid in the air, an indication of what she was offering.

"No, I…" As Liara stepped into the room she took a quick survey of the sparse accommodations and noticed the bottle of whiskey on the counter. She knew her lover enjoyed a glass of beer, wine or even cognac now and again, but had never known her to indulge anything stronger, and she had definitely never witnessed her consume anything alcoholic while taking prescription medicine. Trying to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice, she asked, "When did you start drinking whiskey?"

Lakota bristled at the question. "Just now." Feeling raw in her recent disappointment and the implied recrimination in the Asari's query, she allowed her voice to harden. "Since I was on my own, I decided to try something new."

Cringing internally, Liara lowered her gaze to the floor. The sharp comment confirmed what she had already suspected; her lover was feeling wounded and neglected by her unintended absence today. She took a deep breath and then tried to explain. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you were released. I just got your messages—"

"Don't worry about it," the Spectre said curtly, interrupting the Asari's apology. Her free hand made a dismissive gesture in the air, but her eyes never broke away from the seascape.

With a deliberately slow gait, Liara glided across the room to stand a step behind her lover, wanting to offer comfort, but being careful not to invade her personal space. "What happened with Javik?"

A shadow briefly passed across the Lakota's face like a storm cloud skimming across windswept plains of desert sand. Her surprise only lasted a moment, then she put two and two together and speculated on what must have happened. "Garrus contacted you."

"Yes," Liara admitted. She could feel the tension radiating off of her lover, but sensing that something larger was amiss, she kept the discreet distance between them.

Lakota frowned, pursing her lips as she bit back the cutting remark that flashed in her mind. Liara responded to a message from Garrus, but didn't have the time to acknowledge the ones from her. To temper the sting of another letdown blossoming in her chest, she took a small sip of the somewhat caustic liquid swirling in her glass. "He tried to touch me," she said, answering the initial question.

"He what?"

"Javik offered to help me regain my memory." Lakota turned, flashing the Asari with a dark, humorless grin. "I graciously refused."

"If that's you being gracious, I'd hate to see you be rude."

The Spectre snorted unceremoniously, then frowned as annoyance pricked at the edge of her awareness. Why was the Asari here now, questioning her, reprimanding her for Javik's misconduct? What the hell did she want?

"Shepard…" Liara stepped forward her right hand brushing across Lakota's cheek before her fingers gently ran through the silken strands of black hair. "What's wrong?"

Lakota forced herself not to flinch at the Asari's touch. The acerbic memory of her confrontation with the Prothean caused her breathing to be shallow and rapid, while her current bitter thoughts about Liara's absence over the last few days and motivations in this moment provoked the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. She took another drink from her glass as resentment, directed at the woman next to her, started to build burning its way down her throat along with the harsh taste of the whiskey. Her eyes sparkled in irritation. "Nothing."

Suddenly, with a precision honed from years of deciphering nonverbal queues from the woman standing before her, Liara understood. "You remember what happened. That's why you refused his help."

Lakota's whole body tensed, her silence an affirmation all its own.

Stunned by the idea that her lover had regained her memories, Liara instinctively reached out again, gently resting a supportive hand on the human's shoulder. Then her eyes widened at the larger implication of just finding out about this event now. "How long?"

"Does it matter?" the Spectre growled, her tone low and surly.

"Yes," the Asari said hotly, "it does."

Taking another sip from her glass, Lakota stated, "A few days."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Liara's voice was barely above a whisper and her tone held more compassion than accusation.

The Spectre narrowed her eyes, harshly barking back, "Maybe I don't want to remember!"

Liara recoiled, inadvertently dropping her hand to her side and retreating as though she had been physically assaulted. "Shepard," she said, in a calm modulated tone, "your actions ended the Reapers. Whatever you did saved us all."

In an instant, like a spark let loose on dry grass, the fury that Lakota had sought desperately to contain ignited and slipped from her tenuous control, targeting the woman next to her. "So you're saying that the end justifies the means? You're saying that whatever sacrifices I had to make would be an acceptable price to pay!"

The researcher blinked rapidly, stunned by the intensity of her lover's response. "That's not what I'm saying at all!"

"That's sure as hell what it sounds like!"

On some level Liara knew arguing would be detrimental, but on another level, she didn't care. Lakota had been quiet and withdrawn since waking up in the hospital which had been difficult to reconcile after almost losing her, but Liara had given her lover the benefit of the doubt assuming she was still struggling with muddled and chaotic memories from her ordeal. The fact that she had to force Lakota into a corner before she would admit the truth, that her memory returned days ago, was even more upsetting. During the most difficult and trying moments of their relationship, open and honest communication had always been a priority for both of them. The trust and faith that they had in each other is what carried them through their reconciliation and the bumps they incurred afterwards. Where was that trust and faith now?

Frustrated and hurt by her lover's continued silence and denial, Liara gave free reign to the part of herself that wanted answers. "I don't even know what happened, let alone what preceded it. You won't tell me! All I know is that the Reapers are gone."

"Yes, they're gone and now everyone is so damn happy."

Barely containing her exasperation, the researcher demanded, "And what's the problem with that? They're no longer fighting for their lives! Their home worlds are no longer being systematically destroyed! Why shouldn't they be happy?"

"Because it doesn't end there," Lakota snarled, as she began to pace the room, irritation radiating off her in palpable waves. "There's always something else to fight!"

"Not this time, Shepard."

The Spectre abruptly swung around, facing the Asari in an accusatory stance. "Don't be so naïve, Liara, it no longer suits you."

"You want the reports?" Liara spat back. "I've got plenty of them and they all say the same thing! The Reapers are gone!"

"For now, but when the next monster comes into view, you know what they'll say? Send Shepard, she's the killer of monsters."

"That's not true!"

"Sure it is! Even you've done it!"

Reeling from the sting of that comment, the Asari shot back, "Shepard, that's not fair."

"Fair? Fair?! When the hell did fairness enter into this?" The Spectre's arms were now adamantly punctuating every statement as her outrage became more apparent. "Was it fair that Urdnot company was slaughtered so the Rachni queen could escape? Was it fair that Admiral Koris' team was left behind so the Admiral could be saved? Was it fair that no one paid attention to those who died in pursuit of the objective? Oh wait… no… they're just collateral damage. No harm done."

"Listen to yourself. You're not making any sense."

"Of course I'm making sense!" Lakota snapped. "You're just not listening!"

"And you're being paranoid," the researcher parried.

"Is it paranoid to prepare for the future?"

Liara shook her head in disbelief as the argument took on a life of its own. "It's paranoid when the only monster is the one you conjure in your head."

The Spectre took two steps so she was standing directly in front of the Asari, green eyes ablaze in an unnatural light. "I'm not conjuring this in my head, Liara, I'm spouting history! Saren and Sovereign show up. Shepard kills them. The Collectors become a threat. Shepard kills them. The Reapers arrive. And guess what, Shepard kills them, too. But you know what nobody ever talks about… all of those innocents who die because they are in Shepard's way."

"Shepard—"

"The people inhabiting Virmire, did they deserve to have their planet polluted by a nuclear weapon?"

"That was unfortunate, but Saren's cloned krogan army—"

"The three hundred thousand batarian colonists at the Alpha Relay then," the Spectre declared, her voice rising in both intensity and volume. "Did they rejoice in their death?"

"The Reapers were on our doorstep. The Alpha Relay had to be—"

"Do you know how many people I've killed over the years? Do you have any idea? I could be one of the greatest mass murderers in history, but instead of locking me up, they pinned medals on me!"

"Is that what this is all about? Guilt?"

"Guilt? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me! You're the self-proclaimed murderer!"

The Spectre sneered. "Aw… that's priceless. Thank you, Dr. T'Soni. By the way," she spat sarcastically, "do you have any terminals that you need me to hack? Or better yet, can I knock off the head of some covert organization so you can take it over?"

Liara felt her anger rising to a new level as the conversation teetered out of control. Forcibly, she took a deep breath while consciously trying to calm herself before replying. "What has gotten into you?" Her voice was perceptively softer, more composed, and the question was one of genuine concern.

"Me?" Lakota snarled, draining the last of the amber liquid from the glass in her hand. "Nothing. I'm no different than I was when I ran with the Reds!"

"Shepard, that's not true." The Asari maintained her sedate, even tone, trying to soothe her lover's mood with a less combative presence. "You were a child then. You left that life to become a soldier. The things you've had to do… We were at war."

"That's exactly my point!" the Spectre shot back, her fury nowhere near satiated or appeased. "We were at war! We are always at war!"

"Not anymore, Shepard. The war is over. The Reapers are gone. You've done nothing wrong."

"BULLSHIT!" Anger snapping, Lakota threw the empty glass across the room where it connected with the wall shattering into a hundred pieces. Then she turned slowly, glaring at Liara with piercing green eyes that seemed luminous with rage. "I've done plenty wrong."

Startled by the violent display, the researcher immediately rethought her approach and attempted to explain her own confusion to the woman next to her. "Lakota," she began, deliberately using her lover's first name to emphasize her concern, "I don't know what has brought this mood on or why we are arguing. I don't even know what you think you've done wrong…" She softened her voice, purposely allowing it to trail off into a question.

She waited, hoping that the Spectre would answer, but her lover remained silent, breathing heavily with a dark, unreadable emotion dancing within her eyes.

"Shepard," she said, trying once again to urge her lover to share her burden, "without knowing what's wrong, I can't help."

"Fine," Lakota stated flatly, her tone cold and remote as the deepest reaches of space, "if that's the way you feel, then leave."

"Shepard...?" Liara was even more confused than before. She hadn't expected to be shut out and turned away.

The Spectre fixed the Asari with a callous stare, then leaving no room for doubt, she demanded, "Leave."

"I'm not going any—"

"Liara—"

"No, I'm not—"

It took two long strides before the Spectre stood in front of Liara, her body shaking with uncontrollably with rage. "Leave. This. Place." Then, her right hand swung wildly, smashing into the metal wall next to the Asari's head making fist-sized indentation.

Liara flinched involuntarily as shock and alarm mingled in her deep blue eyes. She studied the human woman in front of her who had never before acted out in anger with her, yet tonight had succumbed to it twice. "Shepard…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lakota froze. Her body was completely rigid as she held her breath, her fixed stare scrutinizing the hand imbedded in the wall uncomprehendingly as though it didn't belong to her. Then slowly and with great care, she stepped backward putting a few feet between her and the Asari as her arms fell to the side. She began to tremble, but not in irritation as before, this was born from the slow burn of shame and regret. When her head finally rose and their gazes met, Liara noticed that the luminous shade of green had been replaced by a much paler version.

An eerie calm filled the room as the two women stared at each other, neither saying a word nor making a move. The genuine concern and distress of the Asari was a stark contrast to the shame and agitation of the Spectre and the disparate emotions seemed to collide in a harsh reality filling the room with an uncomfortable, prickly sensation. When Lakota could no longer endure the candid anguish and look of dismay on her lover's face, her eyes fell to the floor.

"Liara, I'm…." The Spectre shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, her headache making itself known with a vengeance.

"Shepard."

"Please," Lakota said through clenched teeth, "I think it's best if you just leave."

"But—"

"Go. Now."

Silently, the Asari stared at her lover with an unmistakable expression of hurt and confusion etched into her furrowed brows and pressed lips. She tilted her head to the side as though trying to decipher the command that was given, then suddenly her shoulders dropped in defeat and with eyes shimmering in unshed tears she turned, walking out the door.

After securing the lock, Lakota spun around looking at the room with unseeing eyes, then without a sound, she walked over to the couch and feeling as though her world had just imploded, she sat down. Her heart beat painfully in her chest while her breath came in short, shallow intakes. Drawing her legs up onto the cushion, she wrapped her arms around them, hugging her knees in a suffocating grip then slowly began to rock back and forth. She stared blankly into the dim illumination, ignoring the pounding in her head, trying not to exist beyond the moment, knowing that if she did she would lose herself.

She felt empty and alone and as time passed, the hollow inside her chest seem to grow, to encompass all she was. She couldn't speak, her throat was hot and tight, and eventually her vision became blurred by wetness as her body was racked by powerful, inconsolable sobs.

How would she ever be able to explain to Liara that sometimes when you win, you lose?