"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing, doc." The audacious officer chews loudly in between uplifting words. "Don't beat yourself up so much."
Bless her heart, Liara is secretly wishing for the Goddess to smite her for the noise.
"Well, yes, but there is a very big problem," she whispers, ducking her gaze when she catches several glares from her science team. "I do not think they will be inclined to work with me, if our patrol does not get shut down permanently, now. Your Alliance will likely be upset as well, regarding my choice, once they see what the others report of the situation."
"Oh well." Shepard shrugs, reaching with her fork to tap it against the scientist's. "Don't waste good food over them."
There is something wrong with that statement—namely, how she would know what is on Liara's plate is good at all.
But she does not have the energy left for jokes and teases.
"If we get shut down then we get shut down. There will be other opportunities."
"Will there?"
"For others," the officer smiles grimly. "I don't think they'll give us another chance."
Liara's head falls on the table and she cages it in her forearms, sighing. "I am so sorry, Officer Shepard. I know how much this assignment meant to you."
"Pff," laughter sparks, goading an indignant look. The marine wears that foolish grin as always. "First, it's about time you use my damn name—secondly, how did you find out? And third, I am an officer, but my rank is Ensign."
"When you were boasting about being the best marine," Liara explains as she dumps her head back in her arms, correcting herself quietly. Mostly to get a feel for the foreign name on her tongue. "Ensign Shepard."
There's a small suck of breath. A tentative hand on the shoulder. She steals a glance to gauge if she's safe, melting with relief when it appears as though the officer is serious, for once. That rebellious youthful energy strikes back with a vengeance, uncaring of consequences. She misses the days to feel so irresponsible herself.
"There will always be other opportunities out there, in the galaxy. This is just one of many projects. One of just many expeditions for you too, I bet."
"But your promotion..."
"Ah well. I'll just have to work for it the old-fashioned way, you know? Builds character and all that good stuff. A promotion won't mean much if I haven't learned how to earn it. I'd've just become the kind of superior you grumble about saluting rank to, but not salute the person. I want both, I'm a greedy woman. I want me and my rank saluted to. I'll get it someday, yeah."
Bless her heart. She's trying so hard right now, but Liara can see it. She sees those moments of doubts and worries eating away in those green eyes, no matter how much they bounce and dance around to try to stall studies. She deflates and sinks back into her woes, wishing this table would just swallow her whole already. It's such a dreadful feeling to know she's the source of all this tension, after all, after all the work she's put in to try to avoid it. She should have known better. Now her team hates her—probably the whole patrol on the frigate, even. She doesn't dare ask what the officer has been hearing in the barracks.
Goddess, this is such a mess. She wishes they were never sent here in the first place.
"Hey. It's not your fault, it really isn't. It's bound to have happened eventually. You aren't the only do-gooder with ethics, you know? Or the hanar would've gotten suspicious and sent someone, whether it's our team or someone else's. It's right, what you did. We were the ones in the wrong. We got no place to judge—the Alliance too. Try to remember that, yeah? When they spin their stories to try to pin it on you, just to absolve themselves of guilt."
"Thank you," Liara mumbles, "I appreciate you trying to cheer me up."
It's making her feel worse. She knows she's ruined this for the Ensign too. Now what? They would go on their separate ways. It's been a wonderful learning experience, an eye-opener to see what humans are like—and that they aren't at all as bad as all the terrifying rumors make them out to be. Shepard isn't a brazen brute. She's been a bored one, sure; that much is understandable, especially after Liara subjected herself to a single shift to see what it is like to be on guard duty. And it's terrible.
It's so mind-numbing, that she was stunned for the Ensign, despite at least having a book to keep herself occupied. She can't imagine what it's like to be at the total mercy of thoughts and boredom for 8 hours, otherwise. It's given her a newfound appreciation for the kinds of things the military has to do, even if it's in the name of politics. The banality of it all is still a testament to their dedication and discipline to the cause.
Now she's destroyed that cause.
The hand on her shoulder is still there. A thumb is kind of digging in, streaking across. She doesn't know what the marine is trying to do, but it still feels nice, even if it doesn't really feel like anything at all. She could do less with the Goddess-awful noisy chewing though. What on Thessia are these poor humans forced to consume?
"Hey, let's get you out of here," Shepard murmurs. "They can sit here and stew in their misery—I'm not letting you do that to yourself, though. If this project really is going to be shut down, then let's make the most of our time before we go our own ways." She evicts her seat and tugs on the scientist's arms whether she wants to or not, determined to stew in her misery.
A smile cracks from her when the marine proves to be even more stubborn, and soon a laugh, blushing with embarrassment over her yelps when she's tossed over a shoulder.
"P-put me down, Shepard!"
"Nope. Not 'til your mopey table is out of your sight."
True to her word, the scientist is condemned to stew in mortification instead, only let down when they're a few corridors down from the mess. The marines on patrol give dirty looks when they pass by. Liara shrinks, guilt devouring her, pushed along by persistent hands.
"Where's your barracks? I counted your whole team at the mess, so let's go where you sleep. Get you reading your new books."
"I am not really in the mood to read right now, Shepard."
No comment. The marine just crosses her arms and gives a pointed look. Liara reluctantly caves in and indulges, leading the way to the lounge. She tenses before they enter, hailing all sorts of prayers to the Goddess that they truly will be alone, and relaxes when the doors open to reveal nobody. For some reason, the officer gasps, her feet carrying her into the center of the room as her head swivels about to take it all in—apparently in awe.
"What the fuck? Are scientists billionaires or something?" She rushes over to a billiards table, shooting a heartbroken look a second later. "Doctor T'Soni, I'm sorry, but what the actual fuck. This table is collecting dust! Why are you guys not playing on this?!"
"We were a little preoccupied with our studies," Liara chuckles, heading over as she tentatively picks up a ball in her hand. "That, and this being a human frigate and activity, we... Also did not know how to play."
"Alright. Grab a cue. You're about to learn how to have fun, doc."
For some reason, the marine is stretching and flexing. Why on Thessia is she stretching and flexing? It does not seem like an activity that requires it, when all she does is position all the balls in the hollow of some triangular frame, and then breaks them apart with the stick in her hands. She doesn't explain the rules at all—just gives a pointed look as she jerks her head towards the white ball.
"Go on. Have fun."
"May I at least know what I am to do?"
"Well, I didn't pocket anything. You have to try to pocket a ball in one of these holes. The first one you land dictates if you're going to be shooting stripes or solids for the rest of the game. You don't want to pocket the black ball there, with the 8. You automatically lose the game if you do."
"Hm..." Liara walks around the table as she studies the pockets and the balls, visualizing the angles as she does. She chooses her ball and settles down in the strange position she observed the human had done, bending at the hips. She wonders if it's to line her gaze up with where she wants to shoot the ball. Her hand is clumsy, her cue shifting all around, and she tenses when Shepard comes to her side—tensing because the marine is ominously nervous, again.
"Here, watch me. There's different ways to hold the end of your cue. You can rest it on the webbed crook of your thumb, here, like so—or cradle it between your index and middle finger."
"It still rests on your thumb. What's the difference?"
"Friction." Shepard clears her throat, for some reason. She bends down to demonstrate, firing a ghost shot as she bounces the cue back and forth. "I'm not really good at this game, so I can't really explain it... But I use my index and middle finger because I feel like I have more control, then. Less prone to have the cue fly right the hell off my hand," she chuckles. "But I'm sure my shots are off too, because of it, if it slides a certain way when I put too much pressure, or something. Hit the ball on the left. Stuff like that."
"Oh, I see." Liara settles down as she tests which holds feel natural to her. She tries her first shot free of any fingers, but her cue jolts upwards and she just skims the top of the white ball. She flushes with embarrassment over her pitiful shot, shrinking when the officer chuckles.
"Try again. I'm not a stickler for rules—don't really know those, either. Let's just have fun and keep it simple, winner is whoever is able to pocket their balls first. Go on, Doctor T'Soni. Solids, or stripes?" She nervously comes a little closer, leaning against the table. "I know you can get whichever you pick. You know it too."
The leaning is distracting. Liara has half a mind to say it's blocking her, somewhat, but all it's blocking is sensible thought. There's a buzz between them. She's not oblivious to it—wishes she were, with the way a blush comes to warm up her cheeks. She wonders if all this nervousness is her imagination, her manifestation, stealing glances every now and then to try and figure out just what on Thessia this human is actually thinking and feeling. Their body language is always so forward, and yet she's learned that sometimes it's misconstrued from what they're truly intending.
Sheepish for a bit of space, she steps a little to the side and tries to focus on her shot. She cradles the cue between her fingers this time, able to strike the ball, but weakly. Shepard meanders behind her.
Another clear of the throat.
"Uh... I can show you how to, you know..."
That ever so helpful warmth is cursed religiously as it expands across Liara's face. This isn't her imagination. She's fairly certain the human is trying to flirt with her, now, with the way Shepard is flushed too, clearly struggling to figure out on how to teach tips without the use of brazenly grabbing hands. Her words are husks, deduced to croaks and grunts, as she settles down to bend at the hips again.
"So have a loose grip with your right hand, there. You want the shaft-" a cough "-to slide with ease. Kind of bounce the cue back and forth in your grip."
Shepard isn't looking at her. Red is splotching her throat and face, contrasting the vibrant green irises. She isn't able to explain anything.
Liara tries her best to mimic the technique, whatever the technique is supposed to be. She can't take the heat anymore and abruptly straightens, leaving her cue on the table with an apologetic smile. She walks off with as much poise as she absolutely does not have one meager speck of, the notion of what's going on gripping her by her throat. She's barely able to meekly squeak out something about a glass of water.
She gets two glasses of them.
When she returns, the auburn hair is flying about with a hand furiously mussing it up. Shepard immediately stops and her hand snaps down to her hip as she smiles awkwardly, trying to play it off as if she hasn't been freaking out. She makes some ungraceful noise in the back of her throat when she accepts the glass of water, chugging it for dear life.
A sentiment Liara shares.
"Doctor T'Soni," the marine rasps, wiping her lips of moisture as she sets the empty glass down on the billiards table. "Tell me I'm imagining things."
"Y-you are imagining things," Liara nods feverishly. "There is absolutely nothing going on between us."
Shepard's head drops back with a groan. "Fuck, doc." Her knuckles turn white with how tightly she holds onto the edge of the table. "Tell me I'm crazy."
"You are crazy," once again, a rush to the rescue for both of them.
Electricity buzzes harder when those hard green eyes snap back down to her, and Shepard inches forward, circling around until she traps the scientist against the table.
"Tell me I'm the only one feeling this right now."
"You..." Her throat tightens and cuts off her voice. She loses confidence and drops her gaze, gluing it at the thick waist-belt of the marine's uniform nearly swallowing half her torso. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to eek out something. Nothing.
She shakes her head.
Breaths warm her lips, followed by calloused hands framing her jaw. She freezes up. There's nothing happening, though, and she swears her heart will leap out her chest if she opens her eyes.
"Tell me if I can," Shepard whispers.
"S-someone might walk in," Liara stammers, "You will get in trouble. They will bring you down with me because of associ-"
"Tell me if I can kiss you, Doctor T'Soni. Tell me if you're crazy too."
Courage falters. She can't look. She shakes her head again. There's a finger pressed just over her pulse and she can feel it thundering away—embarrassed that the human can feel it. Her inexperience is out on display, raw and unfiltered. She's always been focused in her work, too busy to consider relationships. Now the very species she is frightened of is flirting with her. She swears she's falling apart when the warmth encompassing her jaw is met with a stark chill, the hands slipping away. The breaths aren't puffing over her lips anymore.
"S-sorry..." Shepard murmurs, and it sounds as though she's stepping back. "That was... I was... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I have stupid ideas in my head, clearly. Dumb talk about asari in the barracks. Do you... Want me to leave you alone? Or do you think we can still try to play a round of billiards? I-I'm totally cool with, you know, giving you your space, since I took so... Much of it there... Yeah."
Another few steps back. Liara opens her eyes in time to catch the marine's back, before doors hiss shut, the sheepish apology yelling beyond.
"Sorry!"
Left alone, her first thought is to try to capture her heart. Her hand flattens over her chest, feeling it fiercely hammer away. Her voice is still locked away. She stares at the doors in disbelief.
And hope, wishing they'd open again.
None such foolishness happens, though. She collapses against the billiards table with her head hanging low, gasping for breaths that she didn't know she held. She can only imagine what 'dumb talk about asari' encapsulated—and she curses whatever marine has put such drivel in Shepard's head, confusing her. Of course she's confused. She's worried about her career, and there's a very real chance this project is going to be shuttered. They're going to be split apart.
They had such a wonderful friendship blossoming.
Now how are they supposed to move forward from this? Return to the way things were? Liara buries her head in her palm as a groan rumbles deep in her chest, clutching the ends of her fringe until pain zings down her skull. This is insanity, is what it is. They are crazy for entertaining such a bizarre notion. They've barely known each other. They both clearly had their reservations about each other's species. It's just... Natural reactions, from their bodies, tricking their minds from all the closeness and touching. That had to be it. There are a lot of emotions coursing through them, right now, muddling their judgment.
Still, her heart surges with hope, regardless of her mind, when the doors hiss open—and Shepard is marching back in.
"My name is Jane," she says as she flicks her hand over the door button, where it glares red to indicate it's been locked. "S-so... Yeah. Now you know what to scream. And stuff." She stops not two seconds into her advance. Her face is splotchy, blushing fiercely as she stands, slack-jawed. She groans and musses up her hair with her hand, her head lulling back as she glares at the ceiling. "Fuck. That sounded hotter in my head. Just... Excuse me." She turns around. Unlocks the door. "Don't mind me. Just forget this ever happened."
She disappears again.
Liara is stuck staring again. She doesn't believe the doors will stay closed.
And she laughs when she's right.
Shepard is charging right back into the fray with a renewed resolve, and a deeper blush. She traps the asari against the table and cups the jaw. "My name is Jane."
Something taunts mischief to come out and play. Despite the heat she feels pumping from her cheeks, she musters a smile. "Good to meet you, Jane. How do you do?"
"Fantas—just tell me your name, and tell me to kiss you already."
"My name is Liara." She reaches up and grabs the marine's wrists, smiling apologetically as she pulls the hands away from her jaw. "You may not."
Shepard falters, brow pinching with concern. "Fuck... I'm sorry. I really did read into it all wrong then, didn't I?"
"You have not done anything wrong," Liara reassures. "But... There is a lot going on, right now. I fear our emotions may not be as clear as they may seem to feel—at least, I know that is the case with me. I have found myself greatly appreciating your enthusiasm and your company, Shepard, and I do not want to risk anything that may threaten that friendship. You have quickly become someone I would like to keep in touch with for years to come, if this all ends tomorrow. I value that more than a single night of... O-of fun."
"Oh, I don't know about that," the marine laughs at herself, shaking her head. "I've never done it before. I don't know how fun I'd really be. Be another trainwreck thinking I'm being hot, but I'm really not."
There's a new shy side yearned from her the more she keeps stepping out her comfort zone, confessing earnest thoughts. The implications are terrifying, of course, but endearing in the sentiment all the same. Liara leans in on her toes and steals an innocent kiss on the cheek.
"And thank you for trusting me with you, for that," she whispers. "For what it's worth, I think you were very charming and cute."
"I was kind of aiming for sexy, doc," Jane groans.
Liara hides her face as she embraces the marine. "If... If this does not end when the politicians finish deliberating... Then we may revisit this, after a time, if we find ourselves free of our professional obligations. At the next city we port for maintenance, let us go out and get to know each other some more."
"Like a date?" Jane asks hopefully.
"I... Yes, I guess so, if I am understanding that correctly. I am assuming you do not mean the fruit or a scheduled day, yes?"
"Yes," the marine chuckles. She wraps her arms around and squeezes. Hard. "Hey. Thanks again, Doctor T'Soni."
"Liara," she reminds. She croaks and grunts from the increasing pressure, tapping on the elbows to ease up. "And for what?"
"For giving me another 'second chance', even with me sucking so hard with first impressions."
Liara laughs softly. She shakes her head. "Then I thank you for the same thing."
"Tell me I'm the only one feeling this right now."
It won't stop circulating in her head. She sighs, turning the shower hotter to scald it out her mind. She clenches her teeth, hissing.
"Tell me you're crazy too."
"I am," Liara wants to yell.
She's certainly going crazy. She doesn't know what to do with these feelings, cursing them for throwing her collected composure right in the garbage chute. She can't keep her calm around the marine anymore and it shows every single blasted time Jane sincerely tries to approach with innocence—only for the scientist to run away and hide. These past few days have been absolutely brutal, standing on the edge, waiting for a decision to be made already. Is this project over? Can it continue?
Is there a point for her to even stick around, anymore, with the looks her team has been giving her?
Now she has to move forward from that, and from everything that transpired in the lounge. She's terrified, honestly, even after what she's promised—and she's regretting it. It's clear what motives the marine has, now. It's clear she's confused by the lack of transparency on Liara's part, now that she's buffeting flirtations. She cherishes their friendship.
She's just going to ruin it just like this project.
Liara sighs again, thudding her head against the shower wall. Logic has countless arguments launched to support pro-friendship. Outside of this project, they have nothing in common, their professions may as well pull them to the literal opposite ends of the galaxy. She'll always be traveling, chasing the latest clues on the protheans. Jane will be forced to remain wherever she's next posted. They would just be asking for a world of pain, trying to make something work between them.
And what of their age? The marine doesn't seem to have the slightest clue how old Liara is, and she's done her research, looking up their team roster to read the dossier. She knows Ensign Shepard is 19. Just barely an adult, by human standards—the same... As the asari...
But!
This factor is still very much pro-friendship, as Jane will surely be horrified to find out that she's dating someone almost a century older than her.
Oh, they're only supposed to go on a simple, innocent date, for the express purpose of answering all these kinds of questions and find out more about each other. Why on Thessia is Liara's mind already plotting out a path and future of a bondmate, speculating and deciding all of the marine's reactions for her?
Another thud of the shower wall.
Thank the Goddess for these privacy panes.
There's a subtle vibration at her fingertips. Once. Twice. Someone is pinging her omni-tool. Then it's a constant vibration. Liara blushes, already knowing who's responsible for blowing up her message inbox. She waits until it settles down, slowing to a stop. After a few minutes of radio silence, she laughs upon getting another brief buzz—someone is clearly also impatient. She turns off her shower and takes her towel off the hook of the stall, draping it over the back of her neck as she engages her omni-tool.
0-1 Ensign Shepard: YOU HAVE LIKE 50 UNREAD MESSAGES. READ ONE. DAMN.
So aggressive, Jane. Liara smiles away as she decides to catch up, thanking the Goddess that the 50 was just an exaggeration. It's only 5, and her heart soars with hope. The project isn't being shut down, though there will be a shift in plans as teams will be reorganized in order to continue their research endeavors. They'll be proceeding to their next destination and join the team already there, before they'll move on as initially slated to do. She fires back a message to settle the impatience buzzing on the other side.
X-05 T'Soni: Thank you for this, Jane.
There was already a 0-1 Ensign Shepard is typing displayed on her screen, but it suddenly disappears. It flickers multiple times, on and off, and Liara chuckles. She can only imagine what's going on the other side of this omni-tool, now. She disengages hers as she steps out her stall, drying herself off on her way back to her locker.
After what she's certain has been at least ten minutes, she finally receives a response back, and is somewhat surprised to not be slammed with the novel she expected.
0-1 Ensign Shepard: yes
Liara laughs.
Equally glorious.
"Tell me you're crazy too."
"I am," she wants to yell, louder and louder with the passage of time. It drowns the doubts in her mind. The memories of all the sensations, of the hands on her jaw, the breaths on her lips—it always made her feel a little more bold, a little more mischievous. Her mind tricks her into thinking she can be just as bold, just as 'sexy', as the human put it. Every time she imagines herself trapping Jane against the table, that illusion is shattered by the heat searing her cheeks.
She swears her face is going to melt off.
Another ping rescues her.
0-1 Ensign Shepard: My shift starts soon. Will I get to see you this time?
Only to damn her.
0-1 Ensign Shepard: Did I mess up again, Doctor T'Soni?
Damn that human, too.
X-05 T'Soni: Liara. And no, not at all. I am sorry if I have made you feel that way with the way that I have been. I am just feeling a lot of different things right now. I will try to come tonight.
Silence. It is maddening. There's not even an indication that Shepard is typing. Is she upset? Fed up? Does she feel as though she is being toyed with? None of it is debunked with a final, ambiguous answer.
0-1 Ensign Shepard: We'll talk more then.
Back to stewing. It is constantly something, whether misery, mortification, or insanity; she is a maelstrom of emotions. It is getting harder to remove herself and remember that this is just a simple project, that all she is to do is share her expertise when needed, and enjoy herself as she cements a collaborative relationship with the humans. She does not think the Alliance or the university had this kind of proactive collaboration in mind—and certainly neither had she. The brazen youth makes her feel as promiscuous as the stories that youth has likely been hearing of in the barracks.
Perhaps that is why Jane is so brazen, now.
Liara sighs. Her heart is in turmoil, her mind relentlessly whispering horrible things. This is not supposed to have been so complicated. She finally finishes clothing before someone comes in here and witnesses just how crazy she really is, standing naked and staring at the wall. She heads back into the lounge, her heart rising at the touch of vibration over her omni-tool pinging—only for it all to come crashing down when she sees her belongings packed on the billiards table, where her science team is pretending they don't see her there.
And the message is from The Systems Alliance.
So much for not causing a diplomatic incident.
They're up in the air, heading to their next destination. Debriefing said that Dekuuna—the elcor's homeworld—is next. Jane can't wait, and it's killing her even more as she's condemned to the slow death of daydreaming all about it on her shift. What is it going to be like, this time? With the hanar, it was a no-brainer they'd be going to a homeworld comprised of ocean. But what about the elcor? She thinks everything will be flattened with the sheer size of those aliens. All she knows about them is that they like to smell, or maybe they're smelly—she can't remember how the stories go. Maybe there will be a variety of aromas on Dekuuna. Hopefully she won't have to suit up in order to breathe.
But first? She has to make sure her sanity survives the trip.
"99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall..."
Pacing. Glorious pacing. It is always this shift that leaves Jane with a hunger for more, a chip on her shoulders to prove she is worth so much more than this meaningless front. She refuses to break.
And so.
"98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall."
Needless to say, one might debate she's already a little bit unhinged.
There's not much left to break.
Soft footsteps embrace her ears. She smiles, only to wipe it off with a firm resolve. She is going to get this right this time. It's challenged the second Doctor T'Soni appears from the corner, a shy smile accompanying her quiet poise. She has a blanket and pillow to go with her book this time.
She laughs gently when Jane steals both to go set up the little nook to settle in.
When the scientist settles, Jane renews her efforts to be actually charming, and at least appear like she's got her shit together. She doesn't feel that way inside. Her brain's a scrambled egg, and her heart won't stop thumping at her throat. Her hands feel sweaty on her rifle. Her nervousness and inexperience has already been left out for all to pick at like vultures—her confidence completely shaken after rumors in the barracks have led to her being singled out and mocked for chasing an asari far out of her league.
Yes, yes, she already knows Doctor T'Soni is out of her league; but the asari has something special. Is something special. Jane wants to give it a fighting chance.
What has she got to lose?
Not like she has much pride left to save, after her embarrassing disaster earlier.
Thoughts meticulously pull and pull and pull from the yarn ball, untangling her poorly stitched composure apart. Each pace up and down, back and forth, passing by the asari reading in the corridor, has her screaming louder and louder in her head. She has so many questions—but she's afraid to ask them. She mumbles her little song to mute the screaming.
"80 bottles of beer on the wall, 80 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 79 bottles of beer on the wall."
This assignment wasn't supposed to get so complicated. It was supposed to just be the quickest and easiest route to grab a promotion.
Stand and look pretty. Can't fuck that up; here she is, standing but not looking pretty, apparently an amusing sight to Doctor T'Soni as she stands before the asari, gawking, mouth hanging uselessly as she tries to force herself to say something. She says nothing and throws herself back into her pacing, trying to single out at least one question in the murky swamp of her mind.
She can ask Doctor T'Soni how old she is—all the barracks jeering shatters that in a second. She stops in her path, scowling, boiling. The Lieutenant eloquently said she'd be fucking a fossil. Now she has a fancy new rep added to her dossier for telling a superior he'll only ever fuck his hand. The highlight of her career, laid bare.
What happened to cross-species collaboration? She should have known. She does know. She's been hearing all the remarks from all the species—she used to hear it in her own head. This is too ambitious of a project, a project doomed for failure. The Alliance can't sincerely think this will help humanity earn a seat on the Council. There is so much bad blood, so many misconceptions, so many vulgar rumors.
When she comes back down the corridor, Jane sighs. It's empty now. The scientist has left. Of course she has, there is only so much watching one can do. Liara likely thinks the human is pitiful. Some hotshot fresh out of school, thinking she's going to own the galaxy—meanwhile Doctor T'Soni has been pursuing meaningful work, has her life put together and figured out.
Jane groans, continuing her mantra with a fire burning in her throat.
"76 bottles of beer on the wall, 76 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 75 bottles of beer on the wall..."
"75 bottles of beer on the wall-"
Wait. What?
"-75 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 74 bottles of beer on the wall."
Jane jogs down to follow the echo and rushes around the corner. Doctor T'Soni is sitting there, reading her book, still snuggled up in her blanket exactly the way she was last seen. The crux of the matter punches the foolish marine square in the jaw, and she barely restrains herself in time before she smashes her head into the wall to try and beat the stupidity out.
Doctor T'Soni never left.
Jane is just patrolling the wrong fucking corridor.
Upon noticing her return, the scientist lifts her gaze from her book, smiling—then back down as she continues the mantra, not questioning the stupidity of humanity over this questionable traditional 'song'.
"74 bottles of beer on the wall, 74 bottles of beer..."
"Take one down, pass it around," Jane murmurs along, "73 bottles of beer on the wall." She grins, coming up. Impulse dictates her as she kneels, grabbing and squeezing a knee. "Thanks for coming tonight, Doctor-"
"Liara."
"-T'Soni." A wrench has been thrown in the gears as she rushes to amend herself. "Doctor Liara. T'Soni Liara." Her face screws up and she flushes fiercely when the asari chuckles. "T'Soni Doctor."
"Oh, Goddess. It seems I have broken you," Liara teases. Her hand slips out the blanket and over the one on her knee. "You are very welcome, Jane."
Why does she look like she's in pain?
"Is your ass sore again?" Jane bluntly asks, glancing over her shoulder in conflict. Does she go steal pillows from the barracks? "I can't leave my post, I'll get a rep and I just got one..."
"N-no. That is just fine. And it always has been, by the way." Uh huh. Sure. "What makes you ask that?"
Is that a legitimate question? The marine looks back, gauging if she should even ask when her gut feeling warns that something is amiss here. She shrugs and smiles, bouncing back up on her feet to continue her shift. "Sorry." She's much more mindful of what she's observing, then, back and forth, back and forth. She has 8 hours to figure this out and work it out of the good doctor.
Liara looks so fucking sad.
The marine doesn't last 5 minutes in her attempt at subterfuge.
"What's wrong, Doctor T'Soni?" She feels squeamish upon the pointed look, knowing why as she mumbles the remedy. "Liara."
Just... Isn't that disrespectful? Jane was rude for fun, before; she doesn't have class, and doesn't know how to treat someone with class. She wants to make sure she'll remain in a position to find out.
Silence is her answer, and she at least knows for certain that there is something wrong, eating away at the asari on the inside. Jane goes back to pacing, back and forth, back and forth, trying to maintain an even rhythm so that her footsteps aren't adding to the dissonance. Liara seems deep in thought, her eyes on her book, but glazed. Jane wonders if she is contemplating with what she's feeling is right to do, in this moment—to lie or to tell the truth.
"I suppose it is lingering," Liara offers finally, quietly. "I am still troubled by what I did."
Ah. A half-truth. Smart, doctor.
Jane hums. She doesn't know how to work out the full truth, doesn't want to pry and poke someone who clearly isn't ready to share, if they've settled on this. She renews their mantra.
"74 bottles of beer on the wall, 74 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around."
"73 bottles of beer on the wall," Liara finishes with a wispy chuckle. "We already got to this number, by the way."
"Shit, really? Alright, well then. 72 bottles of beer on the wall, 72 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around..."
"71 bottles of beer on the wall."
They rebound off each other as Jane continues her patrol, taking turns. They reach 50 bottles, and Liara shares just a little bit more, setting her book down on the ground as she hides her head in her arms.
"Goddess, I am sorry, Jane."
"It's alright, Doctor T'Soni. 50 bottles of beer on the wall, 50 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around..."
"49 bottles of beer on the wall. It is not alright."
"Well your opinion doesn't matter as much as mine, obviously," Jane huffs obnoxiously, grinning when she get that head lifting to give her a dead ass look. She comes to kneel in front of the scientist, and that pain glows in the eyes. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know where to cast the line to stop the drowning. She reaches, a pathetic attempt, squeezing the shoulder. "It's all okay. You'll be okay. Year from now? You'll forget this ever happened."
"Just don't forget me," she wants to add, and suffocates it violently.
It's adding to that pain. Why is it adding, not subtracting? This is so confounding. Her heart breaks a little inside when there's a tearful smile, their mantra renewed.
"49 bottles of beer on the wall, 49 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around..."
Jane leans in, ignoring the flames taking her face as she presses a feather-light kiss to the forehead. She closes her eyes, too terrified to see, whispering. "48 bottles of beer on the wall."