Darkness is all she sees. Her injured eye is still dutifully on fire, and it's a daily struggle to not claw it out—a struggle to make up her mind if she wants to see or not see anymore. She just wants to see something other than what plays in her mind like a broken record, images flashing, voices fleeting. The hair on her nape rises and her skin tingles at the sound of a sigh beside her, her bare shoulder bristling and screaming to tear away when lips press to it.

"Good morning," Liara murmurs affectionately. "You sound like you've slept well through the night this time. The sleeping aids have been helping, then, hm?"

"Yeah... Guess so. I don't remember my dream or waking up, anyways."

Bed sheets rustle, a breeze licking over exposed areas as the mattress shifts weight with a body slipping out. Jane blindly slides her hand over to affirm that Liara's left the bed, fingers stretched out as she tunes into the warmth clinging to fabric. The dreaded pull is on the way. She's so numb and tired of it all that she doesn't even frown any more when her side of the sheets slide down to bunch at her waist, for Liara to help her sit up and prepare for the day.

What for?

It's not like she can do anything.

Stubborn to retain independence, Jane does what she can to cling to it as hands stretch out to feel air, until it bumps into a night stand and the clothes folded on it. A routine has been established through trial and error, dressing herself based on the order of things Liara's folded for her: socks, bra, sweater, slacks. The marine's careful with the bandages hanging on her face, wrapping around her eyes—having learned the brutally painful way to not even so much as brush a knuckle to spare herself the agony, now that it's been healing enough to feel extremely tender. She grumbles whenever she feels delicate fingers pull on the collar of her sweater a safe distance out whenever she pulls her head through.

This is so pathetic, just like how she's always been.

She doesn't deserve a single second of the patience nor care standing before her.

"What do you feel like having for breakfast, today?" Liara asks ever so gently, her rhythm never losing a beat in her aid.

"Something I can help make," Jane mumbles, her hope drained in one fell swoop just from the way the asari sucks in a slow breath. "Please, love... It hurts more like this. I need something to focus on. I need to see something else in my head. I can peel potatoes or onions, at least. Wash greens. Something. Put me to work somewhere."

Tick tock. She can feel the staring, feel the melancholy coming to drape over them like curtains. Hands tentatively frame her jaw, and her answer comes in the form of salt-laced lips pressing to hers. She reaches blindly until her hands bump into bare flesh, trying to feel her way into figuring out what she's grabbing—and she won't forget this part for as long as she lives, gliding up the sides of thighs and slipping over to the cup the hamstrings.

Fingers carefully coax through her hair, raking it back. Liara heralds the end as she breaks the kiss and presses a final one on the nose. "I'll look on my omni-tool for a recipe, then. In the mean time, would you like me to see if your mother is available for a vid-call right now?"

"No," Jane shakes her head sternly, terrified just at the prospect of hearing mom's voice right now. She hasn't spoken to mom since the award ceremony—even when it was just through Liara reading and messaging in her stead—and she's more than happy not to for some time yet. She solders onto the feeling of the tense body in her hands as she slides them up to hold onto hips, doing the only thing she's left able to as she massages along forearms. She hooks and pulls onto Liara's hands. "Lay down on the bed. You're crazy tense, love. Let me massage you."

"I should be offering you that," Liara laughs quietly.

Eyes aren't needed to know what kind of face she must be making, with the way her voice is shuddering.

"Let's go change your bandages, Jane."

"Then massage?"

"...Maybe."

Doubt is lurking in. Liara is feeling more and more distant with each passing day, buffeting any advances for them to touch each other on an intimate level. The marine is nothing more than a patient now, something to be taken care of, adding more to the list of chores. Jane hates it. She hates being a burden, hates being a task, hates being the cause of so much stress and sorrow.

She should've died on the streets of Elysium.

Patience is soon thrown back into war with broiling rage as her inability to fend for herself keeps serving as a reminder of her failures. She's pulled off the bed and guided to the bathroom, a gentle hand always on the small of her back to nudge her in whichever direction they need to go. She's starting to feel more confident that she's memorized the paths of Liara's apartment, at least, but she's rarely left alone or to her own devices. The cool tiles of the bathroom sinks in through the thin layer of her socks and she frowns when she hears the asari's bare feet pad away at it.

"You should at least clothe yourself so you don't freeze, love. It's-"

"I am fine." A chaste, exhausted kiss on the cheek. "Turn this way," Liara twists her by her hips. "There. The chair is two steps behind you."

Silently, Jane stews. The sooner she complies, the faster this will be over, and then the scientist will be able to go take care of herself for once. There must be something Jane can do. She searches her memory for what she does remember of the apartment, hoping not much has changed in its layout. There's no tub, so she can't draw one. They'll shower together only so that Liara can still continue to take care of her and her wounds. They'll cook together only so that she eats. They'll read together—or rather, Jane is read to—only so that she can pass the time.

Nothing in there, anywhere, is ever about Liara taking care of herself... And she never hears of it.

Maybe Jane should call her mother. It will give her some time to be alone, for once, if she requests privacy and blames mom for it. She can even promise to be tied to the damn chair if it will help the scientist set her mind at ease that Jane isn't going to be off wandering anywhere, potentially tripping and hurting herself further. She sits and ignores the little sucks of breaths, the despondent sighs, as old bandages unravel and fall against the tiles. She controls her grimaces and winces of pain, her hands rising as a silent offer of help to at least hold the new eye pad on herself while Liara wounds the bandages around the head to keep the pad fixed in place. Next, the bandages around her arm and her thigh are changed, the stitched lacerations cleaned carefully with the smell of peroxide becoming the bathroom's new air freshening fragrance. The slightest dab of wet gauze always tests her discipline and pain tolerance, and she fights like hell to never make any noise or expression for the sake of her lover's heart.

Every time, at the end of a bandage change, salt-laced lips are pressed to hers. Liara's gotten far too good at controlling the volume of her crying.

Nobody ever should.

"All set," the scientist whispers shakily, clearing her throat for some semblance of firming in her voice. "The weather appears nice today. After breakfast, would you like to go for a walk at that trail?"

"Yeah," Jane hops on the opportunity with a resolute nod. "I'd love that."

If only to smell fresh air rather than stale sorrow musking up the apartment.

Momentum rolls with hope, and Jane leans eagerly in her chair, smirking when scared hands snap over her shoulders to keep her sitting. "So can I help with breakfast?"

"I... Do not know yet, Jane."

Good god, does that make her want to scream. She's trying really hard not to snap. She understands, yeah, she totally gets it—she has to keep telling herself that so that her temper doesn't lash out and claim another victim who doesn't deserve it. She's back to stewing in silence and keeping a lid firmly fixed on the steam hissing to blow, complying again as she's led out the bathroom, down the stairs, to sit on the couch. It's back to routine when the television turns on, and she listens to some trivia game show. It's going to be a wonderful day for her to see again, once her eye heals, so that she can find the remote and change these awful channels. She cracks and burns in her seat when she hears giggling on the set.

"Liara, where's the remote? I don't want to listen to this shit."

A voice raises, somewhere, sounding somewhat distant and echo-y. Probably from the kitchen. "Would you like a different show?"

"News, please. I wanna hear what's going on around the galaxy; even if it's politics on some random planet... At this point, I don't care."

"Alright. Give me a moment."

"Yeah, sure, love. Take all the time you need."

Tall talk for someone who's ready to explode from the sounds of all this laughter, when all she can still hear in her mind are the screams and sobs. She struggles not to drill her palms into her eyes when the images start to shutter like a slideshow, one after another, the same torment over and over again. The blood on the walls. The blood all over her and her uniform—from the body she's holding and using as a shield. The scattered limbs, the agonal breathing. The innocent people begging for a quick death to end their pain.

Shame fills her for not even thinking to ask for their names. The least she could have done for the dead was to remember a fucking name, to mourn and honor them. She's caught wind of news that there is a wall being built in Elysium, and hopefully they'll have pictures. Then she'll be able to have names in the faces that remain ever constant in her memories and dreams.

Tantalizing smells has her mouth watering, and she struggles to remain still as she listens to the sizzling in the back. She decides to take a chance and rises from the couch, half-bent at the knees as she holds her hands out to bump into any objects she may be walking into and tripping over. She follows the source of the sounds and smells until she feels a wall, and upon entering a space beside it, the world explodes with color rather than the monotonous darkness plaguing her. Her groan gurgles in the back of her throat, and she laughs upon hearing Liara's startled yelp.

"J-Jane! What are you doing up from-"

"Smells amazing, love," she derails, staying right where she is and figuring out how to lean against the wall so that she doesn't give her partner a heart attack. "Just you wait—soon as I can see again, I'll try my hand at learning asari recipes. We can have a cook off, then. A fun competition to challenge our skills."

Unfortunately, anxiety has other plans for this conversation. Her heart sinks when she hears thudding and switches snap, a sound that things are being shut off and moved.

"Jane, please, let us return to the living room. I'll change the channel for you right now."

As soon as a hand grabs her forearm, something inside of her breaks. She snaps hold of a wrist, and stubbornly refuses to budge in her spot even as Liara starts to pull her. Jane pulls harder as she relinquishes her spot and twists until the asari is the one pressed against the wall, her hands moving autonomously as she tries to revive the spark in a desperate hope to blow away all this stress. She's just injured and healing. She's not fucking permanently disabled. She gets these are serious injuries, yeah—that it's likely grotesque to see, especially for someone of the scientist's occupation.

She gets that she would likely be doing the same, in Liara's shoes, but...

"Let me love you, love. I need to think about something else right now. Please. I'm useless right now, worrying the fuck out of you. It hurts worse than my fucking eye. Please..." She pushes in, wrapping her arms around stiff shoulders, trying to remain mindful of her injury as she doesn't tuck her face into the crook of Liara's neck. "Please. I can't take another day of this. I need something good to think of, to remember. I want to stop seeing Elysium." Her hands wander, her heart plummeting further upon finding that Liara is still only in a blouse—and it feels like it's the exact same one for the past three days now. "I need something good to feel. I don't want to be such a burden to you anymore... Let me make you feel good, please. At least as my way to say thanks, for now, for everything that you're doing for me."

Liara sucks in a long, slow breath. She sighs, her calloused hands coming up to carefully cup the marine's jaw, before slipping down along the sides of the neck. "You do not have to say thanks. I know you would do the same for me, were things reversed. You are not a burde-"

"Load of shit. You're so goddamn stressed I can almost taste it. Let me do something for you, Liara. Please? If I'm that ugly, we can stick a bag on my head. We'll print off a picture of whomever you find the hottest in the galaxy and tape it to the bag."

A brief laugh, and it's a battle won that the marine will take. She grins, sucking up her grimaces thereafter when her cheeks push up against the bandages. She melts a little with relief when her hug is returned, and Liara tucks her face in the crook of the marine's neck, kissing softly. Then her arms tighten, and tighten, and her body shakes. Moisture hits and a bead trails down her neck. Jane embraces the pain crushing her ribs in, though her heart churns with agony over the feeling of being clung on to so tightly, as if she'll disappear any second. She sighs and rests her chin on top of Liara's crest, wishing she had the right words to blast away this melancholy and frustration.

She's always failing family.

"I wish you wouldn't have to suffer like this," Liara hisses between harsh sucks of warbly breaths. "You are already going through so, so much... And here you still are, trying to comfort me, when it should be the other way around. I am trying, but I do not know how... I wish I could do more. I wish I could-"

"Load. Of. Shit. You are making a world of difference, love. I promise you that. But you know me... I want to share the good. The only thing I'm suffering is you-" she grins mischievously "-playing unusually hard to get. Usually all I have to do is wink at you and your clothes are flying off."

Liara huffs. "I am not that easy either!" She pinches in revenge, but at least the moisture trailing down Jane's neck is met with a smile pressing into it too. "You wish I were."

"Nope. Foreplay's my favorite part with you."

There's the rush of warmth now, too.

"I get to enjoy my time working you up, drive you crazy." Her hands slide down, under the blouse. She teasingly draws circles over the sensitive spot on the lower back, welcoming the burn of nails sinking into her shoulders for it. She angles her head down as her chin rolls over the curve of the crest, planting her lips over the asari's forehead. "Please? Can I? Can I at least try to set the mood, right now?"

A shaky breath. Then a shake of the head. Jane crumbles a little. Will there ever be a sense of normalcy ever again?

"I-I am sorry," Liara murmurs frailly. "I just... All your new scars... It is so hard for me to..."

"I can step into one giant paper bag. We can print off a krogan in a bikini if that works you up."

A small laugh, a victory she'll take any way that she can. Then silence falls. Jane settles for an embrace as she pulls the asari in firmly against her. "Talk to me, love. What's scaring you the most right now?"

Liara doesn't miss a beat. "That I'll lose you. Watching all of that... Hearing it... And not being able to do anything...? It is just—I am just... I thought I could do it. I sat and tried to support as best as I thought it would help you, but it hurt so much to sit on this side of your war. Now you're here. And I am still on this side of your war, unable to really help you."

"You ar-"

"Jane."

There's a sense of finality, a sense of knowing. Jane denies it, but silently appreciates that it's not being provoked, or dragged to light. She feels the pieces fall apart in her hands, though. It hurts—and she isn't sure how much more of it that she can take. She reluctantly succumbs as Liara grabs her hands, gently pulling and guiding her back to the living room to sit her down on the couch. The channels flicker by until it settles on news.

Unfortunately, what she has failed to think in advance is what all the news will be about for the next few weeks.

Her jaw tenses and she sits upright as she listens to the same old tell of Elysium, how she is the hero who single-handedly sealed a breach in the defenses Elysium never fucking had to begin with. There are political rivals hard at work politicizing the whole ordeal to their own gains rather than focusing on what they should really be doing: taking the fight to the fucking batarians after this clear provocation for war. There are analysts speculating how things could have gone differently, were there other strategies in place.

All she wants to scream is fuck off and try being there.

Anybody will say they'd be heroic and stop a robber at a bank, but the story plays out entirely different once they are actually trapped in that situation.

She bristles over recognizing the replay of the medal ceremony, where they have given her a Star of Terra for her valor and going above and beyond the call of duty. The television abruptly shuts off. The couch sinks and a tentative hand slides across her shoulders. Her eyes burn hotter when they try to well with tears, when Liara pulls her into a silent embrace. She returns it readily as soon as she feels that wretched moisture press and race down her neck.

"I'm so sorry, Jane," Liara whispers.

"Help me see something else," Jane blurts with desperation, wanting to push away instead. She rises from the couch, pulling away when a hand slips into hers, recklessly maneuvering about and bumping against walls as she tries to find her way down a hallway. "Let's take that trail. I need to see something else."

"J-"

"I need to think about anything but that. Please, Liara." She holds her hands out when she listens to shoes being knocked about from her kicking them, planting her palms on the door. She has half a mind to bash her head against it. "I'm begging, here. I need to do something. I need out of my own head. I just want to feel normal, at least for a day."

"I... Don't think you ever will, after that," Liara mumbles hesitantly. "I do not think anybody ever will. Not without help."

Help. They've talked of this before. Therapy. Shrinks who've never seen war, telling her how she thinks or feels. No way. Why the hell is Liara so adamant about this?

"I can try to be normal, can't I?" Jane challenges. "I don't need to be special just to walk through a park."

Jane kneels, fumbling about as she feels the shoes and tries to figure out which ones are even hers, but they all feel the damn same. All she knows is that she has bigger feet than Liara's. She tries to use that to her advantage to figure out which shoes are longer, succumbing to that horrid helplessness when a cool hand slips over her knuckles, guiding her to grab to what's truly hers. She falls on her rump and her hands claw up into her hair, biotics reacting quickly to ward her away before she accidentally drills her palms into her eye sockets. It doesn't stop the awful burning—but the burning in her heart and throat hurt far worse than her eyes.

Warmth presses into her back as Liara hugs her from behind, her lips brushing the shell of an ear as she whispers. "If it is something else you need to see, we can meld. We can go to a park, find a bench to sit on, and you can see it all through my eyes."

"M-meld...? We've never done that before. Isn't that really special to asari? The mind fuck thing?"

A chaste laugh, and pressure rests against the back of Jane's head. She can almost feel the heat of the blush like this.

"It is an intimate process, yes," Liara tries to explain with the poise and grace already chipped away by—as she likes to say—such tawdriness. "It is not only reserved for acts of intimacy, however."

"But it is special? I don't want you to ruin-"

"Nothing will be ruined. You are really special to me, Jane. I have been wanting to for a very long time, however... I have never really had the courage to ask. And I have heard humans naturally resist the connection quite strongly. But if you are receptive and open to trying it with me, then I believe I will be able to maintain a meld with you."

"Let's make it extra special, then," Jane resolves, twisting in the arms holding her. "I want to try it while we're intimate."

"Wh-what? But-"

"I'd rather see a blue asari than a blue bird," the marine grins mischievously. "Especially if I get to see you through your eyes."

"Jane, that is not the only thing that happens in a meld," Liara blusters. "We'll experience things the other is experiencing. Our nervous systems will be intertwined as if we're one."

"Even better. I'll know for a fact if I'm making you feel good or if you're just being nice to me."

"That's...!"

Oh, no meld is needed now to know that the blue asari is now burgundy. It's only serving as fuel the devil inside of Jane. She stabilizes herself as she plants a hand on the ground, leaning forward, trying to find where it is she wants to be as she explores with her lips. She's pretty sure she's kissing odd places with the way Liara gets squeamish, giggling, finding home as a mouth meets hers with that ever-shy hunger.

"I'm right here," Jane whispers between kisses. "I'm not going anywhere. Let me feel you, please. Let me hear you." She grabs and twists the blouse in her free fist, tugging harshly and uncaring of the sounds of fabric ripping, or buttons snapping. She'll pick out and pay for a new one, someday. "I miss you. I'd love to see you again, any way I am able to. I'll do whatever we need to, for this meld, even if it's some weird witchcraft shit with cauldrons and... Voodoo stuff... Or whatever."

"What?" Liara laughs, bewildered by the bizarre statement. "You do not need to do anything. You only need to trust me, but.. How about we take this to the bed, where it's comfortable?"

No eyes are needed for this. This particular path has been traced and engraved into muscle memory. Jane steals the asari in her arms, grinning when—finally, fucking finally—raw and unfiltered laughter dances in the air, leaving a trail behind them as the marine barrels down the hallway. She needs some assistance safely navigating the corners, and doesn't take a risk with Liara's safety at the stairs, ultimately being the one shoved onto the bed with a body slithering up over top of her. She shimmies backwards on her elbows until the back of her head collides with the pillows, and she's kissed with a different sense of desperation... Still with salt-laced lips.

"Vulnerability doesn't suit you, Doctor T'Soni," she echoes from memory. "Don't be sad, please... I'm here. I'm always going to come back. Do you still believe in me?"

"I do, but... But at what cost will you pay, to come back next time? I know you are suffering, Jane, even if you try to hide it from me. I just wish you wouldn't be sad, too."

"For what it's worth, you're making a pretty compelling argument not to be," Jane grins. She laughs when teeth playfully latch onto her ear lobe, before the tug sparks an ignition in the pits of her belly. She hisses, a newfound desperate thrill guiding her as her hands claw up under the blouse, pulling the flaps apart until more rips resound in the air. The kiss is broken, the sounds of something softly thudding on the floor beside the bed reach her ears.

She has absolutely zero issues, this time, when hands guide hers—to a bare stomach. Her imagination takes over as she relaxes on her back, following the silent wishes and demands as Liara guides her where she wants to be touched.

"I know you're blushing dark as a beet right now, love, but this is really fucking hot," Jane rasps. Her throat suddenly feels parched, tightening, as Liara shyly slides upwards, but stops as she straddles the marine's abdomen. Jane's hands glide up the sides, nails lightly raking across the bottoms of shoulder blades. Hope bubbles in her when she hears a pleased hum. "Can we meld, now? Can I see you?"

"Y-you will not see me, not quite, unless I... I am not sure. But you will see yourself right now. Is that... Are you okay with that?"

No hesitance. Jane shakes her head. She doesn't want to see her bandages and just how hard she's failed. She doesn't let her mind have a chance to sink as she keeps up on the momentum, skimming her nails down the asari's sides as she suggests. "What about if we stand in front of the dresser's mirror?"

There's a choked grunt, then, and Liara struggles to reign her composure in as she's deduced to a coughing fit, her words wispy in between. "I'm not that bold."

"We don't have to do anything in front of it, love. I just... I miss you. I miss seeing your smile—and the way your nose wrinkles, with all your freckles. Please? Even if it's just one second?"

"Goddess," Liara laughs, but it's weak and breathy. "You really work hard for what you want."

"I want to see the reason I was fighting to survive for," Jane blurts, then, well aware of the sudden silence that falls because of it. "I wanted to see you again, but I wanted to make you proud too. To become someone worthy that you really would point at the news and tell random people that's her! I know her, I used to work with her. And then call me up next to say I told you so. I am still struggling to come to terms with—actually, I don't think I'll ever come to terms with what I had to do. Maybe I shouldn't be coming to terms with it at all. To let it be a lesson that I need to do better, work harder, think more strategically. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt the need to resort to the things I had to... I don't know."

Silence embraces them, with mindless hands exploring without directions or goals. There's something that feels different in this air between them. A weight that's slowly chiseled away as it's inching its way off her chest. She's gently pushed to lay down on her back and relax, a groan bubbling in her throat when Liara's hand slides under her sweater, nails skimming up her stomach to goad pleasing tingles. It all shudders to a halt and Jane hisses with pain when the scientist shifts down more, pulling painfully at the stitches holding the side of her thigh together.

"Fuck," Liara hisses under her breath, the weight on the bed suddenly completely gone. Jane is left stunned.

Screw healing. Screw the scolding she'll get for this. She has to look.

Thumbing up the bandage on her good eye, she ignores the beginnings of admonishment and scrutinizes intensely. "Did I just hear that right? Did you actually say that?" She grins with pride, then, when Liara looks confused and thoughtful, as if trying to think back. And then her cheeks darken. Uh huh. "Oh my fucking god. You did. You actually swore. I got the dainty doc to swear. My life mission is complete. I can die a happy woman now, no regrets."

Liara huffs as she reaches over and pulls the bandage back down to shroud Jane in darkness. "You have peculiar priorities if that was your life mission."

"Hey, means I get to move to my next priority and begin my new life mission."

"Do not think you will hear it ever again. In my defense, you have been saying it so often, that it is practically the only vocabulary I have to work with in your tongue."

Jane laughs. "Ooh! Getting sassy now, are we, hon?" She blindly holds her hands out, her grin growing in magnitude when she isn't deprived as fingers link with hers, even if it's all still reluctant and huffy with dignity. She pulls and pulls and snatches the scientist's forearm, working her way up until she forces Liara to crash down on the bed beside her, rolling over to the side so that she ends up being the one on top. She leans down to kiss and has an easy landmark to work with when she feels a breast against the side of her chin, working her way up and across the collarbone until she's at the tip of a shoulder. She grazes with teeth gently, the spark ignited in the pits of her belly upon hearing the content sigh rolling out of her partner.

Lazy hands slither under her hanging sweater, from the front, nails teasing and skimming her stomach again to test her restraint. She's determined to be the one to make Liara fall apart first, no matter what. Desperate fingers come out her shirt to cup her chin, pulling and guiding her as lips claim hers with a shy hunger. She can't wait for the day where she makes the dainty doc fall apart and want her so badly that she becomes more fierce when they're intimate. The select few times that timidity has been shed have been the most passionate.

Teeth bite and pull at her bottom lip, and she groans. "You are pulling out all the fuckin' stops, aren't you? It's not gonna work. You're going first."

"You are not the only one thinking that."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not thinking it. I know it."

Liara laughs with that coy air of hers to challenge and to rile up. She's smirked that smirk so many times that Jane swears she can re-create a picture-perfect painting of it.

And then she stops. A new excitement is burning inside of her, the thrill demanding her she jump off this bed and set off on her way to make this happen. She's able to jump off, but she can't exactly accomplish the rest—and something is telling her halfway down the stairs that she should probably do better at learning how to communicate with her partner.

"I wanna try my hand at painting!" Jane shouts over her shoulder, frantically feeling the railing until she finds the post to hold onto for support at the bottom of the stairs. "C'mon, lets go out and buy the stuff!"

There's a chuckle that sounds like as if it's in disbelief, but not of shock. The bed creaks a little from movement, the sheets rustling. Liara's sounding very coy and amused right now—she'll pay for that later. "Do you know what 'stuff' you need?"

"Uh, yeah," she drawls sarcastically. "Paint."

Another laugh. "And what will you be painting on?"

"Don't suppose you'd let me paint on you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Ah, nuts. Had to try."

"Please tell me you weren't serious."

"I wasn't," Jane grins. "I love how you still have trouble with that, 3 years in."

"You've certainly done well building a reputation of being unpredictable at times."

"Times like now?"

"Yes," Liara breathes with reverence, her bare feet padding down the stairs.

Firm lips press to Jane's, and something about the air between them has completely changed. It doesn't seem so ominous or fragile anymore. She doesn't get it, but right now she just wants to try out her idea, see if she can actually pull it off. Granted, she knows she's also asking for trouble because she doesn't actually intend to paint blind.

But she's determined to paint that smirk.

Uh huh. Yeah.

Load of shit.

"Artists have my full fuckin' respect now," Jane grumbles, faltering with the brush in her hand as she thumbs her bandages up higher. "I'm saluting them from now on."

Liara's gentle laughter is music to her ears, and her eyes look different too. They aren't clouded. They have hope in them, now, a light that was dimmed before. She takes it upon herself to take the brush away and pull the bandage back down over Jane's good eye.

"You've purchased an inordinate amount of blue paint, I see," Liara hums cleverly. "I wonder what you were painting? Looks like jellyfish."

"Keep it up, smartass, and the next time I try this it won't be tryin' to paint your smirks."

Coy chuckles flood her ear, soon followed by lips pressing to the corner of her jaw. "Well, I will clean this up and set it aside in my office. Maybe we can learn how to paint together, after your injuries have healed. What would you like to do now? Are you still up for that walk to the park?"

"Yeah," Jane shrugs, deflating on her stool from her failed idea. "What time is it, the sun sets in a couple of hours, right? Do asari have clubs here? Maybe we can try one tonight."

There's clear hesitance in Liara's tone at that suggestion. "A-a club? Really?"

Another shrug. "It's alright if you're a bad dancer, doc. I won't see it anyways." A playful shove of her shoulder gets her grinning. "If it really makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to, yeah? I know you like your peace and your books, but... I just wanna experience everything with you, whatever that experience is. For what it's worth, clubs aren't my thing either, but I'm curious with us. I know we'll still make it fun for us. We got a lot of time on our hands now, but I still don't know how much time that is. Maybe the Alliance will call me back tomorrow. Maybe they'll wait 'til the doctor takes off the bandages. Who knows? So let's live as we have been, hangin' on a prayer."

Silence, for a moment, then Liara sighs—halfway turning into a chuckle. "Jane, I used to frequent clubs with friends, back when I was in university."

Uh huh.

"You're telling me this, why?" Jane's already grinning, eager to skip the park and go right now.

There's a mouth claiming hers with a dignified huff, and a promise that gets her blood boiling.

"Because I am betting that you are worse at dancing than me."

"Load of shit, Liara. I'm calling that bluff and I'm betting 100 credits on it, too."

"Okay. You're on."

What an easy way to make money.

Liara inwardly resolves to remember this tactic for future bets. Granted, it's taken some work and embarrassingly enough, she's had to work up the courage to ask strangers to judge their dancing. Jane is still in denial, but she's transferred the credits, so it must be that strange human pride thing again where her actions are confessing what she's actually feeling. That she's sulking at the bar is as clear as it all gets, too.

Glorious.

There's an immediate mental note made to take Jane back here—or any club, really—when she's free from her bandages and can safely soak in the sights without antagonizing her healing process. Still, with the amount of reading Liara's done in the past, it's become an acquired skill to be able to describe things and paint the picture with words rather than with a brush.

Another shot glass of vile vodka, and Liara is calling it quits—at least for that drink. She saddles up closer as she rises from her stool, accidentally bumping into Jane in her tipsiness, smiling apologetically when a firm hand calmly rolls over her waist and is able to call her out even without eyesight.

"I think that's enough," Jane chuckles warmly. "How about we call it quits here and head home now?"

"Mm hm," Liara bumbles, lowering her voice out of shyness as she leans in to whisper in her partner's ear. "Excuse me, first. Have to... You know."

"Go pee?"

"Shh," she blushes, glancing around to see if anyone else has heard, her cheeks warming a new degree over Jane's rambunctious laughter. "But yes."

"Alrighty. Promise I won't go anywhere, hon. Take your time."

Liara narrows her eyes when her partner grins innocently, but she's learned of such deceptive tricks. There's a sly implication there that she refuses to call out on, because then she'll be ruthlessly teased for the rest of the night with such... Tawdriness. She pinches the human's thigh and smirks with satisfaction as she walks away with Jane's laughter louder than the ambience of such deafening music, rushing to the restroom to go as quickly as possible so that they can finally leave this place.

Afterwards, as she washes her hands, she takes a good hard look in the swaying mirror, focusing on her eyes. Trying to. Perhaps they shouldn't walk back home and take a sky-car. She needs to be vigilant and sober to be their guide. Jane can't, even though she'll stubbornly try, no doubt. Liara holds onto the counter and stares, a tension lurking back in her thoughts as she reflects on the fast pace of today.

Jane's been getting more and more impulsive, lately. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with her. She's restless, exceeding the norm of her personality. At least she doesn't seem to be suffering her anxiety spells anymore, having grown accustomed to Armali's noises, no longer being triggered and seeking cover over the fear that this city is under attack.

But she's also gotten better at hiding what's troubling her.

Maybe a meld is necessary. Liara has always wanted it to be intimate and positive, but... But maybe she must delve in to where the monsters are lurking, to force Jane to confront her trauma and realize she needs to see professionals for help, rather than try to distract herself and dismiss it all with humor. Liara doesn't think she'll ever convince Jane to seek out therapy, however, unless maybe if the Alliance demanded it in order to continue to serve. What a dreadful ultimatum that would be. It'd be hard to encourage and support it, but... She's seen Jane in action. She's heard her heart, loud and clear, in the way she carries herself and the actions she took during the siege on Elysium. She threw all of herself out there and laid her life on the line, only doubting whether or not what she was doing was good enough to save people.

She's been born to be a marine. To strip her of that would be worse for her, depriving her of the purpose she's been working herself to the ground for all her life.

Why oh why can't there be just one happy day? Maybe Liara's just over-analyzing things as she always does and tends to do. Maybe she should learn to take it easy and relax, to go with the flow even if it's frantic and jumping around everywhere. Jane's free-spirited nature has always drawn her in, making her wish to be as courageous and adventurous as that, rather than live her adventures through books or expeditions only.

Determined to make the most of the positivity, rather than burdened with assumptions and uncertainties, Liara embraces the aural-deafening music and heads back to the bar. But there's a dreadful feeling brewing in her stomach then—something about the way Jane is sitting is waving all kinds of red flags.

Something's wrong.

Tensing, Liara braces herself for another episode as she hesitantly slides her hand along the small of the marine's back. To her surprise, there's an entire shift, and a rigidity in Jane's body rushes out as if a dam has been broken. Immense relief floods the marine as she twists in her stool and smiles at Liara, leaning upwards as she puckers her lips for a signal that she wants to kiss.

Confused, Liara complies, helpless to her curiosity. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

Jane shakes her head.

Deadpan, Liara huffs in the kiss. "You really need to work on your lying."

A meek chuckle, knowing she's been caught red-handed. "Here I was expecting: you really need to work on not lying."

"Mm. Well. I have learned to settle with low expectations."

Another laugh, accompanied by a playful pinch. "Ass!"

A devilish smirk crooks the corner of Liara's mouth, but her concern remains ever present. "So what happened?"

That rigidity returns, and Jane grumbles. "Somebody tried to get friendly with me, guess they thought I'd be an easy one with these," she points to her eye bandages. "They didn't listen when I told them I'm with someone—you. So I slammed their hand on the bar and told them I'd break their fingers if they tried to touch me one more time."

Heat collects in the marine's voice, a rant brewing. Liara draws circles on Jane's back as she presses her lips on the forehead, looking around the bar as she searches for whomever may be the culprit, if they're watching. She doesn't find anybody, inwardly grumbling that this has happened to her partner, and gently grabs Jane's wrist to pull her up from the stool.

"Let's hail a cab and go home, Jane."

"Yeah. Fuck this place. Fuckin' low of that asari wanting to pump me for drinks, knowing I can't see if it's you or not."

Little by little, more and more information tumbles out. Liara doesn't need any more of it to deduce the asari's intentions. But what she's curious of is how Jane was able to deduce that it wasn't Liara to begin with.

"How did you figure out that it wasn't me who was touching you? And that she was asari?"

"Called her out soon as her hand slipped over mine. She said she knows my type, with who I've been here with. I mean maybe I am just assuming here, but that implies asari, right?"

Liara frowns. They make it outside, and she orders a cab to pick them up. Her curiosity isn't sated. When they sit in the cab and program their destination, she glances over to watch Jane, who's temper seems to be simmering down now as her posture slacks with relief over the promise that they'll be home soon—a sentiment Liara shares.

But.

"How did you know it wasn't me?"

Jane's head turns towards her, her eyebrows disappearing beneath the bandages. She says nothing, for a time. Then she smiles, and for a fraction of a moment, the old Jane is back.

"Because I know you, hon. You've always touched me like you're cradling a damn Prothean artifact."

Liara's eyes widen at the analogy, and she laughs. She leans over and frames Jane's cheeks to pull in for an affectionate kiss.

Curiosity spoiled.