Author's Note:
Added some tweaks, fixed typos, and fleshed out the characters a bit more—it's my first story in over ten years, and I was so excited to post it, especially since there's a lack of MShep x Liara stories going around. Oops! As a Mass Effect fan since 2011 and fresh off a run of the Legendary Edition, there's no better way to get back into the fandom than with a dash of romance. I hope you enjoy it!
Shepard paced outside Liara's quarters, his mind racing with the uncertainty of what he was about to do. He had long struggled with the frustration he felt seeing her buried in her work during every visit, but today wasn't a normal day on the Normandy. After a grueling five hours on Feros, where he, Wrex, and Ashley managed to save a colony of brainwashed colonists without killing anyone, he had requested some time off. He took a deep breath as the door's locking mechanism switched from red to green, bracing himself for the conversation — or lack of — he knew was necessary.
The door slid open to reveal Liara at her station, absorbed in her omni-tool with such intensity that she seemed oblivious to his presence. Shepard cleared his throat, breaking the awkwardness that had settled near the doorframe.
He knew that it was now or never.
So, with an unusual confidence in his voice, he began his pitch.
"You've been working non-stop lately, Liara. I can't remember the last time I saw you take a break."
Liara didn't look up from her omni-tool. Her fingers scattered over the holographic interface, her focus unbroken.
"There's still so much to do, Shepard. The Prothean data disc we recovered from Binthu is massive, and I must analyze every single detail. We might find something important - something that brings us closer to stopping Saren."
Shepard watched Liara with a mix of frustration and concern. Despite her consistency in her work, she couldn't help but reveal her feelings in subtle ways. She'd often find excuses to accompany him in the Mako, her questions about whether he found Ashley attractive seeming more like attempts to probe his interest. Her curiosity about him was barely masked by the typical aloofness of her species. Whenever Shepard tried to reciprocate or address her feelings, Liara would always find a way to excuse herself from her duties, retreating back to her med bay with a cool indifference that left him wondering what the fuss inter-species relationships were all about. He knew that her repeated glances and her enthusiasm to ride shotgun—whichever hint she felt was good for the day—weren't to confirm if Shepard had changed his mind about the latest mission. He understood that, but she always deflected, never letting him in. And it was driving him insane.
He tried again, leaning further against the doorframe, his voice firmer this time.
"I get that. But you're not a machine, Liara. You need to step away sometimes. Clear your head."
He thought to himself that it might not have been best to compare her to the Geth they had fought only days ago. But he had to get through to her somehow.
She paused for a fraction of a second, just enough for Shepard to catch it, then continued studying her omni-tool as if nothing had happened.
"There's no time for that, Commander. We have to stay ahead of Saren," she said clinically.
He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, his frustration replacing his usual boy-scout demeanor. It took a lot to make him truly upset, but nothing fueled his depression more than Liara's indifference, which painfully reminded him of his losses back home. His family had never been the type to express their feelings openly, and so he had never told them what they meant to him—good or bad. Now, he was left to confront his cowardice deep in the hours of the night.
"Burying your head in your work won't change the fact that we don't know what Saren is planning next," he said urgently. "What we do know is that the galaxy might not recover from what's coming. We need to use whatever time we have left to show Saren and the geth that we're not afraid of whatever they throw at us, and that we're going to enjoy the moments that we have left with the ones we love."
Liara slowly turned her chair to face him, her eyes meeting the flushed Commander's with a hint of curiosity. As the words left his mouth, he realized that his pep talk had unintentionally revealed thoughts he hadn't meant to share—thoughts about her in ways she wasn't ready for, ways even he barely understood. He had intended to ask her out as a friend, to get to know her beyond being colleagues aboard the Normandy. But his nerves and subconscious desire had betrayed him—a Freudian slip at its finest. If she recognized it, she dared not admit it.
"Look, I wasn't trying to make this awkward," he said, his voice further revealing his embarrassment. "I just thought it might be nice to get off the Normandy, clear our heads, and just be normal for once." Quietly trailing off, he stared at the Prothean artifact that rested in her lap. He hadn't meant to reveal so much, but seeing her so absorbed in her work made him resent the 50,000-year-old relic that seemed to consume her every thought.
"We're going to the Citadel," he said, his voice lower but no less insistent. "Just for a few hours. You need a break, and so do I. We'll go to Flux, get a drink, and maybe—just maybe—you'll remember what it's like to be something other than a researcher for once."
Liara's expression was unreadable. She sat motionless, her omni-tool now forgotten on her desk, as if trying to decipher the deeper meaning behind his words. What did he really want from her? Her silence made him acutely aware of the small drops of sweat forming under his armpits. He had finally put himself out there, and now she was up to decide if those rides in the Mako were worth it. He almost said something more, almost pushed her to answer, but instead, he turned away, leaving her with the decision.
He left without another word, the door sliding shut behind him, leaving Liara alone in her quarters.
Shepard spent the rest of the day trying to focus on his tasks aboard the Normandy. Although he was officially off-duty, he was still the ship's captain, and the duties of command never truly left him—intimacy be damned. As he sorted through the loot from Feros, cataloging supplies and bartering junk, his mind kept drifting back to Liara. Every detail of their earlier conversation replayed in his mind—her reactions, the lack of expression, and the heavy implications of what he had said to her. He couldn't shake the image of her sitting there, staring at him, her mind seemingly blank. That piercing stare. He knew he had pushed her, but he couldn't help it. He needed to get through to her, to make her see that there was more to the galaxy than just stopping Saren and deciphering Prothean relics. Those damn artifacts that seemed to consume her every waking thought. But what gnawed at him the most was his desire to become a part of her world, to be one of the things that mattered to her.
The hours ticked by, and Shepard tried calming his thoughts by reading the latest edition of Fornax Magazine. It wasn't until late evening that the cabin slid open, pulling him out of his spiraling anxiety. Shepard stood up from his bed, expecting to see Wrex stroll in with another story of a head-butting "accident" in the armory. Instead, he found Liara in the doorway. She had traded her armor for a simple black dress and a matching sweater. Her usual calm composure was still there, but there was something different about her, perhaps an unease that she couldn't quite hide. He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful but held back, not wanting to disrupt what might come next.
"Commander, is the offer still open?" she asked, her voice sweeter than usual.
Shepard nodded, sensing her uneasiness over his earlier confession. "Yes, Liara. It is."
Liara took a deep breath, looking all over his minuscule cabin.
"I will have to decline going to the Citadel. I have work to finish, but I would prefer to stay here, in your quarters. I need the quiet to concentrate, and I find your presence… comforting."
He silently thanked Freud for saving him, relieved that his subconscious mind made the right choice for once.
"I'm just glad you came over, even if it's only for a little while," he said to her.
Reaching into her sweater, Liara pulled out a bottle of Thessian wine and two glass cups. On the rare occasions he'd spent time with her, she'd never revealed herself to be a drinker.
"I figured we could make the evening enjoyable after all," she said, holding up the wine bottle.
As she opened the bottle, she stared at it with a hint of sadness, as if the drink carried more meaning than she let on.
"This wine," she continued, pouring the liquid into the glass, "was a favorite of mine back in university. Back then, when the fate of the Protheans were a mystery than an immediate reality, it brought a certain comfort."
She paused, then looked at him.
"I enjoyed it with my mother. Benezia had a taste for fine things, and this was one of her favorites. Before we lost touch, of course," she said as her body stiffened. She looked to the side, staring at something in the distance that Shepard couldn't see.
Shepard remained silent, sensing the shift in Liara's mood. Whenever Benezia was mentioned, Liara would always go back to her duties, burying herself under layers of research and work, as if the answers she sought could somehow ease the emptiness her mother's loss had left.
He wanted to say something to comfort her, to reach out and pull her back from that distant place she seemed to go when Benezia's memory surfaced. But he hesitated, unsure if words could bridge the loneliness and pain that had settled in her heart.
Liara's eyes fixated on the invisible point in the distance, her mind clearly somewhere else. Shepard took a slow breath, hoping the moment would pass without her feeling the need to retreat, to leave him behind as she had done before. But this time was different. This time, she didn't leave.
For the first time, she stayed.
"I'm sorry," Shepard finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew it wasn't enough, that no words could truly soothe the ache she carried. But he hoped she would feel the sincerity behind them, the genuine empathy. Liara's gaze slowly returned to him, the tension in her body easing just a bit. She offered a small, bittersweet smile, one that carried the traces of old wounds.
It had been a while since Shepard had last seen that smile.
"It's all right," she said, though they both knew it wasn't entirely true.
Liara opened the bottle of wine again, a ritual holding more meaning than Shepard could fully understand. She poured the deep red liquid into their glasses, sliding Shepard's glass back towards him. She took a sip, closing her eyes and letting her memories wash over her.
"It is good," she said, certain the wine's taste had never changed. "She would have liked this."
Shepard nodded as he counted the freckles on Liara's nose as best as he could in the dimly lit cabin.
"I am sure she would have," he said, noticing the calm that seemed to settle over her. Maybe, just maybe, she was ready to stop facing her grief by herself.
"Liara, I don't want you to carry this alone." She paused mid-sip, her eyes growing distant.
"Commander, it is not something that can be shared. It is my burden."
He shook his head. "I know what it's like to lose family," he said quietly. "I was just a kid, barely understanding what was happening. One moment I was playing outside, and the next... they were gone." Liara placed her glass down on the table, her full attention now on him.
"I am sorry, Commander. I was not sure. I heard rumors, but I never knew for certain."
He lowered his head, the memory still fresh in his mind. "It never really goes away—the loss, the guilt."
Liara reached out, placing her hand gently on his. "I may not understand losing loved ones so young, but I feel the same about my mother, Benezia," she spoke softly.
"That is how it was with my mother. Even after she was gone, I wished she had never met Saren." They sat in silence, their grief shared in the quiet.
Shepard squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said. "For reminding me I'm not alone in this."
Liara pulled back, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she felt exposed, vulnerable. Sensing Shepard's disappointment as he looked away, she felt a pang of guilt. She had tried to open up, but it was difficult, and she was failing. But she didn't want to retreat, not now.
You're more than what you think you are, Liara—more than Benezia or the Protheans. You're starting to realize that," he said, lost again in the freckles that settled near her nose.
Liara stood, taking a step toward the desk in the middle of the room. Her instincts told her to leave, to hide behind her work, but she hesitated. She had longed for him to see her beyond her professional distance, and now that he did, it both thrilled and terrified her.
Shepard followed, his attention locked on her. She backed into the desk, realizing there was nowhere to hide, no research to bury herself in.
"Do you have an assignment for me?" she asked, her voice uncertain. The question slipped out before she could stop it.
"Yes, actually. I do." She looked at him, expecting mission details, another task to complete, but instead, he kissed her gently on the left cheek.
"Stay with me tonight," he said.
Liara's throat tightened, caught off guard by the simplicity of his request. It wasn't an order or command—just a request to spend the night together without the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders. Her first instinct was to hesitate, her mind scrambling for reasons to say no. Her work, their mission, the responsibilities—these were the usual barriers. But looking at him—tired, desperate, sincere—she wanted exactly what he wanted, too.
"I could use the company," he added, almost as an afterthought, though they both knew it was anything but.
Slowly, she wrapped her hand around his fingers, feeling the cool reassurance of his touch. Goddess, she had missed this—the simple comfort of another's presence, the silent understanding that came with it.
"Maybe, maybe just for the night," she said softly. She knew he needed her, and she needed him, though the words she wanted to say wouldn't come. They caught in her throat, leaving her struggling to express what she felt.
In that moment, memories of her mother flooded back to her. Benezia had always been so poised, so effortlessly charming, greeting the citizens of Thessia with warm hugs and soft kisses. Physical affirmations were her way of connecting, of showing affection when words weren't enough. Liara had watched her mother countless times, admiring how she could convey so much with a simple gesture.
Liara didn't have Benezia's practiced charm, but she found herself reaching for that memory, for that way of expressing what she couldn't say. She leaned forward, her mother's memory guiding her, and kissed his lips. It was all she could think to do, all she could give him in that moment. Fear and hesitation settled like distant stars. She touched him all over, then settled her hands on his shoulders, wondering how far he wanted to go, and whether she wanted to take him there. The uncertainty of what the night might bring made her very nervous, but one truth remained: she wanted to share it with him, wherever it led.
She pulled away, retreating into the shadows of the cabin. In the quiet darkness, she slowly slipped off her sweater and let the top half of her dress fall, revealing the burden on her shoulders. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to be seen like this—vulnerable, almost bare. The air in the room felt heavier, charged with the intimacy they were about to share. Deeply curious, she took his hand and gently guided him toward the bed. Her steps were deliberate, both mind and body aligning with a purpose she hadn't fully acknowledged until now. She carefully laid him down, her invitation clear but on her terms. As she climbed on top of him, she placed her hand softly against his mouth, silencing any words. This was her moment—she needed to do this her way, to let go.
"Just for tonight, let me lead." As she began, she felt a mix of uncertainty about her new position, unsure if she'd get it right, her thoughts drifting to the stars.
He remembered how she removed her dress, revealing herself and nudging him onto the bed. Her touch and the feel of her skin drove him wild. Her desires took center stage as she commanded him, redirecting his wandering lips from her neck to her nipples. As she tilted her head back, exposing the spot he had buried himself in before, he saw her eyes—deep and shimmering, a portal to their unified being. As she pulled down his trousers and attended to both of their needs, he felt a part of him let go, forever hers now. He sensed she needed him for this, and he didn't mind working for it. She made him wait, and he was mesmerized by her need and the way she demanded his attention.
When their union eventually ended, he still felt her essence, as if her heart grew a little bit closer to his. She left a lingering piece of her behind, gnawing at him in the night and forcing him to wake. He noticed her absence only after he focused on the reality right in front of him. She had left some time after their affair—part one, of exploring their bodies, and part two, of their joint mind. He reached for the spot where she had given herself to him, his hand brushing against the crumpled bed sheet. In the eerie silence of the room, her absence felt like centuries.
He turned on the bedside lamp, slipping his feet across the cabin floor. Although he had a sense of where she had gone, he hoped that she was alright, that she had found some measure of peace after everything they had shared. Shepard knew that one night wouldn't change much between them. But waking up alone, the memory of her touch still fresh on his skin, made him wish feverishly that Saren had already been defeated, that the burden of the galaxy's chaos had been lifted so that he wouldn't be left alone in this silence.
He was feeling particularly bitter, and the sharp, unpleasant taste of alcohol seemed like the perfect companion to match his mood. Moving toward the bottle she had left him, he sought to drown out some of his memories, hoping the drink might offer a temporary escape from his pangs of recollection. As he approached the wine she had gifted him, he noticed a small, yellow wad stuck to the bottle. He carefully peeled the note from the wine bottle, its yellowed edges crinkling slightly in his fingers. The handwriting was hurried but legible, unlike her final moments with him. Having left her omni-tool in her quarters, she had written her parting words on a basic piece of paper.
He steadied himself, reading the note with the little part of him that she had kept.
"Shepard, thank you for last night. It meant more to me than I can put into words. I need some time to sort through my thoughts. I hope we can find time to talk as friends soon.
– Liara
He placed the note back near the bottle, its message offering little beyond what he had already anticipated. He reached for her wine glass, still bearing faint traces of her lipstick. Pouring a generous amount of wine into it, he watched the deep red liquid settle into the bottom of the glass. As he set the glass down, he stared at the empty space beside him—the spot where she had been just hours before.
To the Stars, he thought. The stars meant nothing to him now. They were just distant points of light in an indifferent world, the significance of the cosmos marred by what they revealed about her.
He wondered if their night together was all he'd ever have with Liara—memories of her opening herself to him, leading him deeper until she trembled beneath him, shaking and unable to speak. In his mind, he could still feel the electric intensity of her skin against his, the way her body melted in his fingertips. He pushed through his thoughts, pushing through her fears. There, he lay with her in bed, waiting for the second phase of the night—where they would become a union.
For now, he would hold onto the memory of their time together and wait for the next chance he'd be let in again.
Three weeks had passed since that intense night, and Shepard still felt Liara's presence lingering in his mind. Keeping the memories at bay, he kept busy, blasting generic Citadel ambience through his radio. When the repetitive tunes grew tiresome, he walked to his armor locker and requested a new coat of armor—green, yellow, orange, no, not blue—and painted over the base coat until the colors flushed away his dull mood.
Sometimes, he tried to recapture the intensity of that night, his hands wandering as he remembered how she was both selfless and demanding, never letting up until the very end. He would almost grasp the memories but couldn't fully capture the sensation. On other nights, he lay in bed, painfully aware of the empty space of where her body was, waiting for a release that now felt out of touch.
The day before, Shepard had taken Liara on an excursion to the gleaming planet Nepmos. The mission had gone smoothly, but danger struck as they neared the end. A Rachni soldier, its mouth filled with venom, flanked them from the left, launching itself at Liara with surprising speed. The creature's razor-sharp talons tore through her shields, sending her crashing to the ground. Green bile seeped into her armor as her shields failed completely.
Shepard's heart sank as he saw her fall. Time seemed to slow, the hissing of the Rachni mixed with the loud pounding in his ears. His own shields were dangerously low, but he couldn't afford to focus on that. He couldn't lose her—not here, not now. With a powerful nova charge, he bolted from cover, charging toward her as the Rachni soldier prepared to strike again.
He slid to her side, fumbling for a dose of Medi-gel. With no time for protocol, he applied the gel directly to her exposed wounds, his hands trembling as they touched her skin.
Her eyes fluttered open, pain etched on her face as she met his gaze. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and she reached out to grasp his hand, her fingers closing around his with a desperate strength. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to offer some words of gratitude or reassurance, but before she could utter a sound, the hiss of the Rachni soldier shattered the stillness between them. Instinctively, Shepard tightened his grip on his assault rifle, his heart pounding in his chest. Without hesitation, he sprang back into the fight, the urgent need to protect her driving him forward.
Exhausted, he sank onto his mattress, the weight of yesterday's battle pressing heavily on him. He began his nightly ritual, trying to summon the memories of their time together—knowing he might fail but still clinging to a sliver of hope. Just as he started to lose himself in his fantasies, he heard light footsteps approaching his cabin door.
"Commander, I wish to speak with you."
He rose from his bed and saw her standing near the doorway, the same spot where he had called out to her before.
"Commander," she began calmly, "I wanted to thank you for what you did on Nepmos. It means more to me than I can put into words."
"You always seem to tease me with those words, T'Soni," he replied, his voice tinged with hurt. She stepped into his cabin.
He didn't immediately move, letting the words hang between them as if waiting for her to make the second step. Liara hesitated for a moment, then walked over to where Shepard stood. She spun him around and kissed him gently on the lips—a wordless thank you for saving her life. Despite the overwhelming urge to retreat, to escape the weight of what was to come, Shepard allowed himself to be led by her. As their lips met, he surrendered to the moment, letting their bodies speak in ways that words could not. To him, she always knew the right actions to take, though the right words often eluded her.
Liara broke away, her face fixed in a frown.
"Listen, this isn't easy for me, or for both of us," Liara said, her voice lowering as she struggled to find the right words. She looked at him, as if silently asking him to continue for her. "I let you into my mind," she continued, her voice shaking slightly. "I let you see—" She paused, glancing up at him again. "I have shown you a part of me that only Benezia ever saw, and I worry that even if I try, it will not truly capture how you make me feel." She took a slow breath, drawing her composure in as she sought his understanding.
He turned away briefly, overwhelmed by a rush of grief. The memories of their last night surged back—the intimacy they shared, the way he guided her hands through their most vulnerable moments. She had let him take over, her trust in him evident in every touch. His mind replayed how her lips had wandered onto his lower stomach, drifting lower and lower, reconnecting to the surface as he kissed across her freckles. She had led him further, surrendering completely and without restraints. Now, faced with her words and the sensations that lingered, he was at a loss, unsure how to move forward.
"Liara, our last night together—"
Before he could continue, she cut him off, her voice louder than he had ever heard. "It's not our last, Shepard." Her eyes blinked rapidly with fierce determination burning within them. "I'm not done with us. We have more to face, more to explore, and more to feel." She took in another heavy breath, her hands gripping his shoulders with an intensity that rivaled their last night. "I'm not leaving you this time."
She glanced toward the bed where they had lost themselves in. Shepard felt her sincerity, a side of her that had been missing before in this very same spot. As if on cue, she began to cry, the accumulation of grief crumbling on her shoulders. There was no single tear that marked the flood; instead, she suddenly broke down, her tears streaming across her face as she wept openly in front of him. Shepard watched her, his heart aching as she broke down. He moved closer, his arms reaching out to cradle the trembling asari. As her sobs wracked her body, her breaths came in ragged gasps. He pulled her into his chest, holding her close, his way of telling her that she didn't have to find the answers immediately. "You're not alone, Liara," he said softly, his breath brushing gently across her head. "I promise that to you."
Her cries softened, her breath mingling with his as she clung to him. After a moment, she placed her forehead against his. She dared not look at him, not at a time like this, until she lifted her chin and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Taking notes from me, Liara?" Shepard teased, recalling how just a few weeks before, he had been in her position. Her laughter coaxed out more tears, a small smile forming as she wiped them away, comforted by his endearment.
"Shepard," she said softly, her tears now under control. "Let me stay with you tonight. Let us find some sense of peace, even if just for a few hours."
Shepard saw her as she was: always Liara—dedicated colleague, worker, loyal to archaeology and all things Prothean. A grieving daughter, a friend he had come to rely on. He knew this about her, but it didn't stop him from convincing himself that she was more than that. She was a survivor, his first, and his bondmate to-be.
He looked at her, really looked at her, seeing her surrender to the moment in a way she had never done before. "Promise me you'll stay," he said, his voice heavy. "Don't leave before morning. I don't want to wake up alone this time."
As if preparing for something much different, she slightly stepped away from him.
"Embrace eternity," she said, guiding his hands to her lower back.
He longed to erase the time from his omni-tool, wishing to lie with her indefinitely until, eventually, Saren tore him away from the one who understood him the most. His skin tingled as Liara prepared him for the space where their souls felt most at home, in the abyss that surrounded them, with the mysteries of the Protheans left behind. But this time, there was no rush, no urgency—no dominance or submission.
Only the quiet assurance of her eyes turning black, a promise that neither would face their burdens alone.