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An Argument, A Seperation	By : chroniclyflaming Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 4136 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Mass Effect, and am making no profit off this story.

Chapter List
- 1-An Argument, A Seperation
- 1
The Prompt: FemShep/Liara Arguments
Totally stole this off of tumblr:

"Imagine your OTP having an argument. One of them accuses the other of lying about something. Their argument grows too heated causing one to just storm out of the room, leaving the other to scream at the closed door before sinking to the floor in tears"

Bonus:

Post reaper war

Shepard is the one storming out.

Maybe some time lapse and they reconcile (doesn't need to be years maybe months or something)
The Fill:

Re-statement of Romance:

The night knows nothing of the chants of night.
It is what it is as I am what I am:
And in perceiving this I best perceive myself
And you. Only we two may interchange
Each in the other what each has to give.
Only we two are one, not you and night,
Nor night and I, but you and I, alone,
So much alone, so deeply by ourselves,
So far beyond the casual solitudes,
That night is only the background of our selves,
Supremely true each to its separate self,
In the pale light that each upon the other throws.
—Wallace Stevens

To cap off the fight, the entire evening, Liara had to open the door for her, and Shepard had to kick the door so it would slam. And yes, it was hard to storm out on crushes, but damnit, Jane had done the best she could. At least she got the satisfaction of seeing the shocked look on her bondmate’s face.
She really did it.
They waited twenty seconds together, separated by the expensive wood from some planet that was now on fire.
Then Liara began screaming at Jane’s general direction.
It brought more satisfaction that reminded Shepard of eating too much candy or cake frosting. Which reminded her of the regret that would follow. Clutching her stomach, face smeared with sickening sweetness, “why did I eat so much!?” Because it had felt so good, one mouthful becoming two then half the can or bag was gone, and then it became a fucking challenge to finish it off. You’d throw away the remains, victorious, and hating yourself for eating so much.
The screaming was becoming shuddering, stammering. Jane could see that round blue face purpling, the hands rising to cover her reaction. Then the tears that darkened those blue eyes and rolled down past the freckles, the nose, to her cheeks. No one there to kiss them away now.
Shepard shuffled her ass down the stairs, and was proud that she only fell twice down the slippery marble.
If she’d been younger, she would have gotten in her hovercar, and driven away. Back to a motel or her Mother’s house or to a friend’s to crash on a couch. Driven listening to angry music and shoring up her wrongs and defensiveness and knowing that she’d been in the right.
Unfortunately, aside from probably being too busted up to properly drive (and Jane had never been great at that skill), it was all locked up and protected. Given its owner was the Shadow Broker, if Jane tried to break in, it would explode. Plus, Shepard didn’t even have the keys, there was no way she was going back up there to get them. The only thing that she was capable of moving on this war-torn street they’d settled on was that rat running off like she was going to steal whatever horrible thing it had been carrying.
Strange, to be surrounded by such opulence and ruin. Half of their apartment had been covered in ash, the rest in silk and Persian rugs. They hadn’t needed much, though. Neither was afraid of roughing it, although sometimes Jane would miss the Normandy for its nice shower alone. They had slept on the floor, spooning on blankets and each other. “I love you, I love you more than anything.” That had been enough to make them happy, despite the back pains.
There was a shuddering scream of wood from above, and Jane looked up.
To see Liara, tear-stained and pissed off. Those blue eyes seemed to blaze, even from this distance. “If that’s how you feel about us, then just don’t come back.”
“Fine. I won’t!” Her voice cracked tragically.
Liara disappeared, and for a moment, Jane thought she might be running downstairs to catch her. She always would give in to make peace, the one to slide against her seeking comfort, the first to apologize and express feelings that Jane tried to keep locked up. Her time as an information broker hadn’t changed that aspect of the asari.
Then she was back, with a heavy black trash bag held to her shoulders. “Then don’t!”
Which didn’t make a lot of sense as Shepard would have pointed out if that bag hadn’t been falling down four flights, aimed at her. No real way to run from it, so she simply fell forward and skinned her palms some more to avoid getting another concussion. Lying there, on the filthy cement, seeing a cat beneath a rusted out shell of a car across the street nursing a pack of filthy kittens, Shepard could weigh her pride against this scene.
If she’d stayed inside, she also wouldn’t be seeing what looked like a scruffy dog carrying what might have been a human ear. Her clothes wouldn’t be covered in motor oil and unnamable black goop and who-the-fuck-knew-what that was?
This was the aftermath of those post-dystopian novels she’d read as a teenager. After the initial cleaning up and regrouping of society.
She’d told Liara that no, let’s move somewhere secluded. ‘I’m sick of being around people.’ Now she had to fight feral crows to hang their clothes on the line to dry. Their neighbors were wild dogs and ruined rivers and places that even the husks hadn’t wanted.
It had been this place, or some nothing place in the Artic, with nothing but the thoughts in their heads. A concept that lost its initial pleasure after Jane spent five minutes in her shower, trying to clear her mind while running cold water to prepare herself. Only to lose her mind after two minutes, shivering, throwing herself onto the bed and its warm sheets.
Liara had handled this place with aplomb. Using her past experiences of living in dig sites to survive and show Jane how to use matches. Forcing smiles, and reminding Jane of the benefits. No interruptions. Except for her own, when she heard some news or got a call that couldn’t wait. Then it was all ‘sorry, Shepard’ and shoving Jane off her.
That was a sour memory that helped her crawl to her feet. The weird personal secrets she’d kept from Shepard, like the existence of her father, and being all cagey about what she’d done those past two years when Jane had been dead. Despite everything, she still kept things to her chest, that one.
Instead of going back, she literally waved a fist in Liara’s direction, to keep her determination. Vowing revenge, and to stay away until Liara came to her senses. She managed to sling the garbage bag over her shoulder, and then headed away from their apartment. The entire building was basically theirs, but that wasn’t anything to brag about. All full of splintered wood on the fifth floor, the drains falling apart, the roof caving in, and Jane turning about to be the worst handyperson ever.
People had assumptions about her and Liara, and their roles, and thinking about her partner with that saw and sander reminded her of that too. Jane was the butch one, supposedly, the one to shoot heads off everything and squish spiders and be a bad dancer and act all awkward in that dress. Well, she didn’t sit well in that dress, literally, and she was aware of the jokes made about the ‘Shepard Shuffle’ but the rest was all on Liara. Her phobia of insects was focused on bees, but spiders were also terrible things to find in your shoes. And Liara sometimes had better aim than her, and less pity for what she was shooting, be it geth or mercenary or spy. And the better cook too.
Fuck, Jane couldn’t even decorate, or even find a nice bouquet of flowers for Liara, when they’d gone on dates. She wasn’t even the calm rational one, or the one that was able to let things roll off. Maybe she had more of a sense of humor, sure.
…And Liara had all the money and handled the paperwork. Knew about stocks and would watch the news reports on markets while Jane tried to change the channel to cartoons or a sitcom. Jane had better taste in music, but Liara was refined, she knew about opera and how to listen to music and identify instruments and keys correctly.
She was so screwed.
Liara should have thrown her out years ago.
There was only one thing to do, and that was to get on her omni-tool, and call her Mom to pick her up.
##
For five hours, Shepard waited outside what had been a park, in the remains of probably a skating ring. About five hundred years ago, it might have been beautiful place. Now it was not even post-dystopian. This was the stuff of holovids. All it needed were zombies and mushroom clouds being added to the scene through computers.
Things floated in the water, and more crows had followed her to peck at them. The murder followed her throughout her trip through this shit hole. Their beady eyes taking in every movement, waiting for her to slip on the snow in these damned crushes. Then they would swoop down and begin feasting on her, like vultures.
Shepard was thankfully she’d grabbed a jacket before stomping and dragging herself out of the apartment. Any warmth was appreciated in her life right now. And when, if Hannah or Liara came looking for her, they’d have some way to identify her body. Not even her dental records might be enough, because Cerberus had also fucked with her teeth and filled cavities and added caps and whitener.
She saw a burned sign with the words ‘Wee’ left, and she had a feeling it was not supposed to be a cry of delight.
Somehow, despite people probably not having been anywhere near this place in a long time, there were still lots of used condoms littering the ground.
Considering how long she’d walked what might have been west, she shouldn’t have cared about such things. She’d passed what had been an airport, fleeing at the sight of people who would never believe she was the Jane Shepard. Her hair had grown too long at Liara’s request, as she had a deep love for running her fingers through it and simply admire the way it looked. She had new facial scars, and was paler than ever beneath her scattering of freckles.
She continued southward, despite the pain. The fear and growing rage at her situation gave her strength. Again, she had to replay that conversation that she’d just so recently had with her mother, and let that sink in rather than thinking about Liara crying and hating her.
“No way, Jane, am I headed to that god-forsaken state.”
“You have to come get me. Christ. I’m on crutches. It’s lucky I made it this far.”
“Look, you get to Pennsylvania, and we’ll talk.”
“Are you kidding me? Are you not in Ohio?”
“Yes, I’m at our old home. Your Dad’s here. We both got on shore leave, and we’re too busy to come just whisk you away from your little paradise in blue heaven. I thought you were too important, too busy being free of any and all responsibilities to even call your mother?”
“Dad’s there.” Dad and Mom. On shore leave. Busy. “Eeewww.”
“What, what’s wrong?”
“I’m fucking trying to get a place to stay for now. My friends are all over the galaxy right now. With their families. Because they love them.”
“What happened to your shack? With that ‘bondmate’ of yours?”
“I left.”
“That asari girl kicked you out?”
“No! I left her!”
“…really? You sure?”
“What, yes, I was there. I know what happened.”
“Why? Jane, maybe you should rethink that?”
“I didn’t think you even liked Liara? Now you want her to be part of the family? What the hell, Mom?”
“Sometimes. Initially, I was wary, but she definitely wasn’t a dancer just looking to sink her hooks into you. I found those papers she had published, really fascinating stuff. Normally I don’t care much about the protheans, but it was still interesting, even if most of it went over my head. There’s a good head on her shoulders. So what if it’s blue and has those tentacle things?
“She was always polite. She keeps in contact, did you know? We exchanged some stories, about you. Gave me advice on my latest battle wound, and how to keep it from scarring. She sent your father a ratchet set. Just because she thought she’d like it. You don’t even send things for Father’s Day.”
“She wanted to have children, Mom!”
“I can see how that might be a problem.”
“No, Mom, asari don’t have that two-gender thing.”
“You mean sexual reproduction. God, Jane, we sent you to a private school.”
“On an Alliance ship. You were there. It didn’t count.” She was growing distracted, tugging at her too long hair. “We’re having a spat. That’s all.”
“But you’ll fix it up, right?”
“Now you want us to shack up, in our sleazy apartment? Have fifteen little blue kids running underfoot?” Her voice cracked again, ruffling the feather of the watching crows.
“She has a doctorate, Jane. Not that a university degree is everything, but I think she’s a good influence on you.”
Her poor naïve Mother that didn’t know about what she’d done on Illium, at Liara’s request. The shit Liara had done to get her body back.
“I don’t know. I think you should go back.”
Shepard looked over the naked trees, towards the sky, counting down from ten. Did the math on how long it would take for Garrus/Tali to come from the quarian planet, to rescue her. Miranda and Jack were on some colony planet, and also ‘busy.’ The others in the Alliance, and who knew where exactly. The air smelled like soot, and there was something comforting to focus on. She could do this. She had talked counselors into coming together to fight a race of evil robots, had stopped wars from breaking out and forged a peace. She was Jane Shepard, once Commander of the Normandy, slayers of Reapers and savior of the galaxy. She could talk her own mother into giving her a ride home.
“Mom. I understand. I do. You want me to be happy. I’d like that too. And right now, I need to regroup.”
“But you’re not breaking up with Liara, are you?” That voice was so tense, it made Jane’s blood pressure rise. For once, Hannah was really using Liara’s name.
“You can bring her for the holidays, I wasn’t really serious. And her Father too. And half-sister. I’ll break out the good liquor.”
“For me?”
“For them. So, Liara wants kids, and you just left her? How could you?”
“We needed space. She threw my stuff out too.”
“Good for her.”
“I’m your child! Your only daughter!”
“Your brother’s doing well. I noticed you didn’t even ask about him.”
“I’m kinda having my own problems now, Mom.” She looked at the bag that held everything she now owned. It was beginning to tear. Of course it was.
“Does Liara only like human woman? Because John’s single, and while we’re not sure if he likes woman or not—“
Shepard finally lost it, and threw back her head to begin howling laughter. Her grip on the bag slipped, and it fell into the snow, spilling out shirts and a pair of jeans. No underwear in there, Jane discovered. Either a weird punishment, or Liara had forgotten, in her rage. No, her bondmate forgot nothing. This was another way to get back at her lover for deciding that she’d rather wait for those little blue kids.
This was her life, her fucked up life. Her mother was going to abandon her so that at her funeral, she could set John (who was so clearly her favorite) on the mourning asari. Johnny, who was so awkward and dorky, and would be perfect for Liara, goddamnit. He probably wanted to have kids too. They’d screw right there on Jane’s coffin, and the other crew members wouldn’t even care because they had their own troubles and kids and lives, and so go at it New Shepard and Liara.
They’d scraped her back together, for the second time, after finding her at the Crucible. The time and energy poured into these veins. All for naught. The end came for all mortal creatures, and Shepard was at the end of the line.
After listening to her cawing giggles, Hannah agreed to pick her up, but only if she headed closer towards the border. Then turn on the omni-tool and shut off the firewalls so her mom could track her but hopefully not look up her search and shopping history. Maybe she liked Liara now, but there was no reason to disturb her with visions of what the asari would do to her only daughter.
Now she sat, exhausted, on a bench, looking at graffiti genitalia. So much of it was asari, and she guessed that was more punishment heaped on her freckled head.
What the hell had they both been thinking, coming to this place that even before the war, people were warned to stay away from? Especially Liara. Had this just been another challenge to her? This entire area was horrible, you couldn’t raise an animal there. Even their hamster had turned into a nervous wreck, just living here and dealing with the wild animals and occasional refugee that they were both glad to help. Liara especially liking the company, for some reason. Probably a relief from dealing with her work, or Jane.
When the hovercar showed up, the person behind the wheel was pissed off. Then they saw Jane, and looked concerned, and pitying. Her dad was not the sort to easily express emotion, and she was cut from the same cloth, but looking at each other after so long, and after what they’d been through, both their emotions were self-evident. He hopped out of the car, immediately after stopping it, to embrace her.
“Alright you two. Let’s get moving.”
“Right. Right.”
Jeff and Jane Shepard both discreetly rubbed at their eyes, looking towards some great distance. Fuck, it was a dusty day.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, little sister.”
“I’m older than you.”
“But smaller. I got you beat there.”
“This is great. Just a big happy family get-together. Move over, John.” She shoved her bag of clothes onto his lap, then gave him her attempt at a hug. It was good to see him still breathing, even if he was an annoying dweeb that might try to steal Liara away.
“Up this road?”
“Just follow the GPS, Jeff.”
“Huh? Where are headed, exactly?”
“To see your girlfriend.” John was always the most honest person in the family, the most even-headed and easiest to talk to.
Jane on the other hand reached out, despite the pain in her injured legs to grab the wheel. “I swear, I will take us all out if you do not hit the brakes and turn around.”
Hannah just looked up from her place in the passenger seat, giving her a cold look with those chilly dark blue eyes, nothing like Liara’s. “Try it.”
“Hey, guys, let’s talk this through.”
“Jeff. Do not stop this car.”
Her brother’s voice was getting higher in volume. “Dad. You’re not going to let Jane crash another car, are you?”
“What are you doing? What are you doing?”
“Are we really playing chicken, with the hovercar, you two?”
Jane met her mother’s gaze, unafraid. “You can take your foot off the gas at any time, Jeff.”
“We are going to see Liara. I want your father to thank her for that present. And she sent John that lovely model of the ship he served.”
That’s where that thing had gone.
Something snapped, and Jane began turning the wheel, despite her dad’s attempts to grab it away. She was finally stronger than her old man, but that didn’t bring any pleasure. Maybe if she’d been fourteen and arm-wrestling him, but now she felt bone-weary of being such a different person than when she was ten years younger and without any cybernetics and no pain from having the love of her life kicking her out of the home they shared.
At least Jeff was slowing down. “Jane!”
John was in the back, innocent John, trying to grab her and getting only a crutch in the face. She was stronger than him too, now. “For god’s sake.”
“You’re going to kill all of us. Just like when you set the garage on fire!”
“That was an accident. This is deliberate.”
Neither she nor her mother blinked or looked away, but the Rear Admiral finally also seemed to crack. “Fine. We’ll stay out of your business.”
Jane let go of the wheel, for her father to scramble to turn the thing around and keep them from crashing into another tree. “Thank you.”
“And your hair looks terrible.”
The drive home was otherwise uneventful.
She’d been with only Liara for company for so long, that now even her family reminded her of sides to her bondmate.
Dad talked about nothing much, full of ellipses in that quiet way of his. In another life, he must have been a cowboy that focused on the range and horses. He seemed to get along in life through a perpetual bubble of silence, lost in a daydream perhaps. Liara’s quiet nature.
John was reluctant crazed smiles, and chattering was just like the archeologist, when Jane had first met her. He looked at everything, wide-eyed and wanting to take pictures and ask questions. Sitting there, broad and muscled, he looked like a pair of marines that had been combined. Tired and ready for retirement, and still eager to help others and run into a hail of gunfire. He’d signed up years ago, rising up while getting his head down, to avoid connections between him and the famous other Shepard. Looking nothing like her had helped.
Momma Shepard was almost as scary as a pissed off Liara. But without the biotics and sex appeal. Ugh.
Jane shuddered in the back, her forehead pressed into the window. She’d wanted Liara to meet these people. For handshaking and hugging to occur, and for them to all get along or hate each other magnanimously. Now they were headed away from Liara, leaving her lover all alone. She was really leaving Liara behind, and that nearly made her grab the wheel of the car again.
Fuck pride, just don’t make me have to go home with these people. Take me back to her, and I’ll crawl up those stairs on my bloody knees.
Instead, she held her tongue and watched the nightmarish landscape fade as they headed west. In the silence, she thought of Liara. She’d been there when Jane had woken up, the first to tell her what happened, the first to touch her.
Shepard could remember a hundred different moments, their scenes stapled and unmovable in her mind. Herself pinned beneath Liara, exposed and begging for her, ‘I’ll do anything, just please fuck me.’ Having her shoulders gripped, her hips pulled, positioned, however her lover wanted her. Stripping naked and waiting for Liara to come in, surprising her every time, even when though that was a game they’d played back on the Normandy. Waking up in those familiar blue arms, to slide beneath the sheets and say good morning in a more substantial way than with a cup of coffee, though that was appreciated too. Marks on both of them, still, from fingers and teeth and mouths. Cupping Liara to her chest, kissing her forehead, “it was worth everything, to be here. I never thanked you, for saving me.” But she had, her lover assured her, and she would.
Jane spoke only once, and that was to tell her disturbed parents that she needed to go buy some underwear, when they got to civilization.
#
It seemed like, for all she’d done, she would always come back to this place. If there was an afterlife, if not on the Normandy, commanding another mission, Shepard would be in this place. Listening to her parents downstairs and John in his room. Hopefully, Liara would be here too, in this fantasy of an afterlife, wrapped in her, with Jane’s favorite corny music playing on the stereo. There would only be this quiet peace in knowing that she wasn’t needed by anyone around her for this one moment, only Liara to focus her attention on.
“Why did you and that asari break up?” John had sounded only polite at the dinner table. “I thought you were pretty serious?”
With him, with his concern, Jane didn’t feel so angry. She could pull her emotions out, inspect them, and wonder what they were all about. Self-reflection was not something she focused on too often. There was too much hidden beneath her often blank face. Too many truths. Sometimes, Liara would ask her things, and grow tired of her glibness. Let it lie, dear. Sounding too old, in her own head.
“We are. We’re just spending some time apart.”
They were not new to the concept of an argument before. But nothing like this. It was all ‘hey, no, I want this on my side of the pizza, put those onions on yours, let’s watch this holovid, I’m the sick one over here.’ It had always been settled with smiles and rolling eyes and making out and Eternity Embracing.
She remembered the dumbest things they might argue about, like redesigning that apartment in Illium and about their cooking and over who cleaned the dishes tonight. One, claiming that this gumbo thing tasted awful, a thing that Liara had spent hours on, only for Jane’s bowl to end up on her head. But they’d both laughed that one off while Jane was hosed down in a way that was surprisingly unsexy.
When Liara finally revealed during one bad period after Thessia that she’d taken up smoking, lighting up in her sleep while Shepard watched, mesmerized. Her lame, ‘that’s bad for you’ joking about second-hand smoke and what damage that would cause to their future children, and Liara was going to sound like her Dad, but secretly turned on by the whole process of lighting, and seeing the slim cigarette in her blue hand. Eyes half lidded against the smoke.
There had always been a few problems. The age difference hadn’t been a major thing, though. Liara had acted young enough, and was very sheltered. Now, not so much. There was part of her that would set the universe on fire, if it had meant getting rid of the Reapers. And just because the war ended, didn’t mean that part had left her, had healed.
Shepard only wanted to do what she did now, and lie here in a quiet dark bedroom. In a place that functioned without her. She could close her eyes, and just breathe.
She’d come up here, to this room she’d grown up in, feeling the snow in her boots and the sweat drying on her back. Feeling the strain of how long she’d walked, and barely being able to remove her jacket and shoes before collapsing. Satisfying, to feel a burn in her muscles from actual exercise, rather than just having such sucking at doing normal things. Unable to walk on her own, hating the crutches to the point of throwing them as hard as she could, and there wasn’t much wrong with her arms when she was angry. Liara had just picked them up and repaired the damage. Now, they just sat there against her desk with its chipped surface and the books still scattered on it.
Where John was as hopeless as Jane could be, Hannah kept her ear to the ground. At the least, her mother had probably found out about her being an information broker, after hanging up her metaphorical lasso and fedora. “Was her work getting in the way?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“So it was kids, then? You know, Jane, you and your brother were both accidents.”
“Thanks. Just call us ‘mistakes’ and be done with it.”
“No, I don’t regret having you two. Sometimes, I used to. Not maliciously,” Hannah said, actually trying to make some comforting gesture. Seeing her daughter, her hero daughter on her bed like a depressed teen had shorted out something in her head. “But seeing you two in danger…even as children, you would climb on everything and risk breaking your necks every day.”
Couldn’t control her kids, and so wished they didn’t exist. Jane could understand with too much ease. “Yeah, you’ve got me all figured out, Mom. Fear of loss is keeping me from Liara.”
“You can act all high-and-mighty with everyone else, but I changed your diapers. I raised and mourned you. I know you, and it doesn’t matter how much you’ve done, you’re still human.”
“Barely. I have even more cybernetic parts than the organic ones I was born with.” Jane pointed to her crutches. Months, and still using them. “I have to use them because my body’s trying to reject them. I keep finding blood on my clothes, from the damn things rotting out of me. Or maybe it’s the organic parts that are falling apart. My back’s still a mess. I couldn’t walk for weeks after they found me. Who knows how long I’ll be using them?”
I am still dying. I am dying. How long could I have? My bodies a wreck, and I should be fighting it, but I am tired.
Liara had been in that team, to find her in the wreckage. Had been the one to actually find her, and help dig her out, exhausted and with her own fresh wounds. ‘What happened in there, Jane?’
‘I don’t remember.’
“Mom?”
There was fear on that hard face that Jane had only inherited a rough imprint of. Human, and Jane had to turn away. It was like seeing her naked or something. Even when Jane and her brother had done something dangerous, her first instinct had always been to rage. The little league games had been very traumatizing, in particular. “You’ll get better.”
“It’s…Mom. It’s alright.”
She scared her mother out of her room, for once. It was another accomplishment that Jane had never wanted to complete. That was all she was good at, bludgeoning and hacking at whatever enemy she could find. Even her peace-keeping had always come from wearing away at someone, balancing the fear and the rage that made her want to grab whoever she was talking to and shake them until they had bitten their one tongues off.
I’m still there, at the Crucible, making that choice. I’m just looking over my shoulder, seeing Liara behind me on that street. Anderson is right here, growing still. I will get up, holding my side and knowing that this was it, please, let this be it.
She’d found a lighter in her garbage bag, and didn’t know what to make of that at all. Shepard was never so great with any subtlety. Even Cerberus had known that, with their strange picture of Liara taken at some point and put on her desk. Jane hadn’t even been capable of doing something like that. The stuff that she kept was her dog tags, and that was partially for Liara’s own sentimentality. The chattering husk skull, as a joke. The terminal with scant personal information on it. Her clothes, nothing special either. ‘Standard issue’ described Jane Shepard, and she was fine with that until everyone kept thinking that she was somehow something vital.
Was she supposed to go back, and give her that lighter? It wasn’t inscribed, or anything. Just simple, solid and heavy and made out of something like silver or titanium. Bought on Illium, Jane would bet. Liara had a dozen just like it. Liara, with a cigarette clenched between her teeth, shoving things into this bag while juggling the lighter, spitting out the cigarette to throw that bag out the window. Gathering clothes, folded by Jane herself as she could do that much, and slipping that lighter in as a memento. A good-bye present?
Was she thinking of her own parents, as she’d filled that bag? Seen their ghost, imagined their own fights, their own separation. The Commander had been her first everything, and she could hear Liara’s thoughts, her hatred of failure, and what this might mean.
Shepard turned the silver rectangle over and over again in her freckled hands. Callouses beginning to soften, but fingers still too thin. This is the hand of someone that has shaped the galaxy. It is not in the least bit remarkable.
Only, Liara wasn’t pregnant. Probably.
Could she be, would Liara keep that from her? Their last time, it had been the same, Jane lying in a puddle on their wrinkled sleeping bags, smiling at that blue back that was searching for an ashtray. The same lighter? being used and the smoke that signified either stress or satisfaction. Smiling, and rolling onto her side. Neither talking, it was unnecessary, even without the meld. Had there been a distance? The peace before the storm?
Was the fight over their future that storm, or was it a possibly pregnancy?
If she’d just finished taking Shepard’s DNA, that would explain why she was smoking. No baby yet, ‘this is the last one I’ll ever light up.’ Fuck, the lighter might have been a sign of that. She’d given up smoking, for their daughter.
Dad, his turn, coming in to knock to check on her, asking if she wanted dessert, she’d hardly touched dinner, maybe she should eat. “C’mon, kid. Get up.”
“Don’t even try it, Jeff. You’re out of your league.”
“I have been married for longer than you’ve been on the planet. You think your Mother and I don’t have our disagreements? I’ve never met this Liara girl, never even talked to her really, but she seemed understanding enough. Honey. You think you’re the only soldier that came back different?”
At least Dad was finally bringing it up, those four letters that had never been used to describe Shepard. She was the Commander, and the one to pick people up after they’d fallen down.
“Dad. I’m okay. This is just relationship problems. I’m not psychologically scarred. And I know I’m lucky, and I’m grateful.
“I don’t have nightmares or flashbacks. I’m just feeling a little tired. We needed space.”
“Jane. Are you alright? There are doctors here. Not just for the head either. I heard about the extent of your problems. From the extranet, and from your Mom. Liara…was vague about them. She just told us that you woke up, basically. We came to visit you.”
He laughed, and Jane realized that she’d gotten a lot of her voice from him. Liara had once leaned informed her over the omni-tool that just hearing Shepard alone could make her knees weak. “You look better than when we saw you then. Hair aside.”
Jane looked at her father for a while, not blinking. “I came back very different, Dad. Before this happened.”
She gestured at her crutches. “Before that. After Cerberus fixed me up.”
“We were never really clear on that.” Jeff leaned against the doorway. “About what happened.”
He was her father, the guy that had pulled her down from trees and comforted her about John’s birth, ‘no, honey, we can’t take him back.’
Maybe he didn’t want to know anything more about his daughter’s death. “You going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Dad? Did you and Mom ever have any problems where you just had enough?” Shepard paused. “Did you ever just look at her, and think that about how different you were, from the person you met? And her, too? If you’re just two new people, acting out the same roles?”
“Sometimes. We’ve been together for a while. The trick is deciding if you still like the new people. And you know, from there, you just decide if you want to be together. With new roles and changes.”
“Adapt or die.”
“As you’d know well.”
“So just work at it? Buy her flowers and chocolates and give foot messages?”
“’Work at it’ is such a vague term. But the other stuff helps too. Just be happy the other person is near you, and let them know.”
“Thanks. That’s not so bad.”
“Jeez. Thanks, kid. You sure you don’t want pie or anything?”
“No. I’m alright. Don’t worry about me, Dad”
And she did feel okay, despite a twinge in her stomach. ‘You just say these things.’ ‘…not just the things that you tell your squad to keep moral up.’ Shepard sat there, waited for the house to fall asleep. Even the shadows on the wall that had scared her as a girl were the same.
There were guns downstairs. Her parents had a good collection, even from years back. One of their few mutual hobbies, and she and John had been using them since they were kids. She could see them, the old ones in gleaming wood and dark steel. After everyone else in the house was asleep, she hobbled down there to see them. They were old friends; she’d spent her childhood with them.
“Just in case,” she told these things that were not toys, as she and John had been reminded half a million times. Because it felt nice to talk, for once. They were all still here, and that allowed her to finally leave and go upstairs to seek some sleep.
She went to a bed that she’d never shared with Liara, and it felt like cheating. They had shared their beds on the Normandy, and the hospital bed once or twice. A dozen times Liara would storm into Shepard’s cabin, to toss her on some flat surface and fuck her with that strap-on that they hadn’t used much anymore. Both of them grinning over the unexpected roughness of her lover, both of them only existing in that peaceful bubble of straining and pleasure and weird bruises from the desk. Shepard’s best moment.
It felt wrong to sleep without Liara’s presence near.
Before the sun was even up, Jane left that bed.
Her bike was still in the garage, against the wall and looking pathetic. It reminded her of the one they’d found in this underground parking structure, and the tires had been flat as hell, but Jane had convinced and taught Liara how to ride it, while Shepard jumped onto those handlebars. For this, she didn’t need her crutches to move. ‘This is terribly dangerous, Shepard.’ While the Commander had thrown her head back and laughed at dying of a shattered cranium, after everything. Then Liara had peddled faster, going on about how insane this was, this was even worse than the Mako. It had been worth it, even if Shepard had needed help getting up, twice, after they’d crashed. Later, putting antiseptic on each other’s wounds.
These tires were in a little better condition.
This was nuts, there was no way she could even throw her leg to straddle this thing. Couldn’t walk, but somehow she could ride a bike? No way, skipper. She could maybe push it a little, right, use it as a converted walker. Only there was way too much pain in the leg that wasn’t leaning against the rusty paint-scraped thing. Even this thing was kicking her ass.
“Fuck it.”
With her head hidden by the hood of this jacket, Jane headed out to nowhere. Her hair, growing past her shoulders, rubbed uncomfortably against her neck. Liara had loved the shade of it, especially how much lighter it was at the tips, loving the contrast of colors in the sun, and so Shepard had kept growing it out. The sound of her crushes would always irk her, and Jane tried to come to peace with that fact, if nothing else.
The old houses were still here, some painted a different color, some still being fixed up. War had hardly touched this place, and she wondered why she hadn’t brought Liara here. They had discussed moving somewhere populated, right after the last battle. With Jane still in a hospital bed. Holding each other’s bandaged hands, her lover sounding almost wistful, like they were waiting behind a fallen wall for the enemy to come, living out a future in the brief time they had left. “We could go to Earth?”
It still hurt to talk, but keeping silent only hurt Liara, so Jane was forcing herself to speak because seeing that fear in her blue eyes was worse. “Sure, we could.”
“I’ve never been.”
“It’s nice. Sometimes. In parts.”
“We could meet your family?”
“Sure.”
And they’d made their vague plans, ideas that Liara wanted to cement and make permanent. Finding out where Jane’s family home was, shopping around, wanting to know where Shepard would want to stay, would she want somewhere tropic, did she want to stay in the Americas (pronounced so carefully and without the use of the translator, like she was learning English), or was there somewhere else? Europe, for instance, had hundreds of years of human history and if she’d like to see London again, watch it be repaired, they could go.
Then Jane had taken her to a remote location, miles from her family and anyone else. Liara had been cheerful, though. “We’ll grow things. We’ll make it our home. And you need a quiet place to recover.” And they had tried their hands at a garden, with Liara talking about her mother that had also enjoyed working in the backyard, growing vegetables, the flowers that had filled the yards and inside, the fruit trees they’d had. Shepard had promised they would do that, they could clear land and she could actually learn to make something grow. Another promise she’d broken.
Mostly, they’d survived off runs to a market, faces hidden, looking like any other refugees. Pretending to be other people, in their bandages to hide their faces. Liara had quickly grown tired of it. Of this hiding, the lying if just to themselves because Shepard wasn’t getting better, not here, probably not anywhere else.
She crashed into a curb she hadn’t seen, sending her falling headfirst into the sidewalk. Lying there, she half-expected to see Liara to come up, glowing in her white armor. Her nurse and keeper. There to scold her and pick her up. Brushing her off, and softening eventually when she realized Jane was alright. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’ Even though, what she should have done was wring Shepard’s neck from another dumb stunt, as Jane wanted to do when Liara put herself in danger.
The only time Liara had ever grown even mildly, truly violent with her was during a failed attempt at sex, one of the first, Shepard sweating and feeling ill through it. Hissing, and pulling away, shoving herself off Shepard so the soldier lost all the breath in her lungs. Once she’d realized what Jane was feeling. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend that you’re alright.”
And Jane had wanted to say she didn’t know what to do, what the hell she was supposed to do now. Help me. But what could Liara do, that she wasn’t already doing? Keeping her distance and trying to soothe her lover down. Hadn’t Jane put enough crap on her plate, dragged her through more than one hell? In that final battle, keeping Liara at her side, then the explosion, getting lost and knowing to only move ahead, leaving her behind. The battles before it.
At least she hadn’t pretended anymore that how she felt was only a temporary situation. Smiling, when she’d been able to still joke about her condition, ‘when I feel better, we can talk about it.’
‘Please, Shepard’ had turned to ‘Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.’ over and over again until the syllable had implanted itself in her mind, and that was definitely taking over her head.
Left her waiting for so long. I couldn’t even care for a plant; I couldn’t even get to that roof without help.
Existing in that purgatory, Liara just waiting for something to change. Happy to be with her, but nevertheless wanting Shepard to change to that old Commander that was always with a smile and had determination. That did not burst into rages, “I left my guns, do you get that? I’m retired, I’m with you, what more do you want?”
Liara, cringing, “I just want you.”
It was like she knew where to put that knife.
I’m fucking dependent on you. You see the blood on my clothes, you see me hobbling around. You know what a mess I am. I’m different now.
She picked herself off the ground, and didn’t bother brushing off snow or leaves, but just headed home instead. Probably looking like she’d been mugged, and that made her wish that she hadn’t left her weapons on the Normandy. She’d taken only a few mementos from the ship, the dog tags and husk skull and picture of Liara, her black-red N7 armor that had seen her through so much.
All of that left at the apartment, and Shepard didn’t know what that meant. Was she expecting to go back, or had she thrown her hands up and given up on all that that stuff? What did Liara think, as she saw that stuff in their apartment? The remnants of a life they’d tried together, their first life outside of the war.
Shepard hadn’t been able to grow any fruits, but there had been that first time she’d brought Liara a package of blueberry. They’d licked the stray juice from each other’s chins and left stains on their sheets. A nice moment, in that hell.
Liara only seemed to talk about their problems, in some oblique way, with her father. Or at least Aethyta would ask pointed questions, about why they were there, how long would they be there, was there a bondmate ceremony coming up? She was reconnecting with old friends, over the extranet anyway. And with her distant father’s side of the family, the lost half-sisters and their own children that were as young as herself, and their own families that they were starting.
As Shepard went alternatively cold and hot inside, dreading the messages that Liara was no doubt exchanging, possibly more baby pictures that she no longer showed Jane.
There would be mornings where Shepard would watch her, this strange creature she shared her life with. And just think of how long they’d been together, physically in the same ship and otherwise. This bright person that had decided to make Jane her partner, and couldn’t have foreseen how much it would cost her.
I killed her mother. I’ve killed so many people. They’re all fucking faceless and silent, but standing right behind me. I am in no position to start a family. I can’t even deal with the one that I was born into.
She shouldn’t have to deal with this. She fell in love with a whole person, with Commander Jane Shepard.
And I’m no longer that person. Even if EDI and Joker say I’m the real captain of the Normandy.
Oh, but it hurt to think about the Normandy.
During one night, hair wild and uneven from the latest surgery, she’d thrown the medals away. Tossed them into the Presidium Lake, hurling them harder than when she and Garrus had gone up there to shoot bottles. While Liara watched, and made snide comments about how dumb her pouting and tantrum was.
I’ll be free, I won’t think about this anymore. I’ll be able to move on. I can be more than just this person who had those stupid pieces stuck to my shirt.
Refusing to meet with diplomats, to take up any position of power. Liara leaning in close, ‘Jane, it’s important.’ Until Shepard had cursed her and told the asari to get away from her, the first time she’d told Liara to leave. Had Liara actually left the room? Gone for a smoke, perhaps, a habit so carefully hidden that it had taken Shepard too long to discover she had taken it up on Illium and had never stopped? Jane couldn’t remember.
This was the first time they’d separated without any word of a future.
But she brought her cage with her, everywhere, and it was more than just the crutches or the failing cybernetics.
The next week was a horrible parody of her childhood. Waking up when her mother kept pounding on the bedroom door. Helping her Dad, and hanging out with John, doing nothing more than throwing rocks at beer bottles by the creek. There had once been a time as a teenager where she thought she’d always be hungry, even after she’d signed up for the Alliance and had reached her mid then late twenties.
Only instead of going to school, she just hung around the house. Tried to take up smoking, only to throw up and hate herself for buying the same brand that Liara usually stuck to. The smell clinging to her clothes, and making her cry when she was alone in her room, shirt pressed into her face. It was like she was in mourning.
Her parents kept her distance. They’d apparently made their peace with their daughter living there for the foreseeable future.
It was her brother who finally snapped and confronted her about her situation, after another endless day spent in her bed, lighting cigarettes and putting them in an ashtray she’d found. Just watching them burn to ashes, the only interfacing she could handle at this point. Sometimes, the glowing ash would land on the sheets, but nothing ever came of that.
“Get up. Get up right now.” John even sounded like an army sergeant, standing there with freshly sheared hair. Every day he’d get up at the usual time, and on the third day, he would run a buzzer over his head while Jane felt that sound sinking into her gums and loosening her teeth.
“You keep acting like you’re already dead, and now you’re just inflicting your body on everyone. You haven’t been the same, since…”
“I died?”
“You got lost for those two years.”
That was such a strange way to put it. Liara had probably never fully explained to them what had happened.
At least she wasn’t putting the lighter beneath her hand, to flog herself further for her failures. “This is nothing new to me, John.”
“That’s why you’re hiding out here? After spending time in Newark, of all places. Mom was pissed when you never came to visit. And that she had to find out about Liara, from the extranet.”
Blasphemy, to hear her name from her brother. It discomforted her, to think of her family talking about Liara. About any part of her girlfriend occupying their minds. She didn’t know if that was from being stuck out in the middle of nowhere, alone with Liara. Or maybe she was just being possessive. It seemed like something she’d seen in a holovid, her whole life. Fallen asleep to a good book in this narrow house, a place she’d never left. Her entire Alliance commission a fever dream, and she’d certainly never fallen in love with an asari archeologist and saved the galaxy.
Liara was her’s, as was the pain they’d inflicted on each other, and Shepard wanted to fold their relationship up and hide it from anyone.
It was hard to pin down any of her feelings anymore. “Where the hell do you think you’re staying now? You think you’re not doing the same thing?”
“I’m still getting my groupings. I’m on shore leave, for a while. I didn’t give up my commission.”
Unlike her. Good for him. It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend either. Or at least a recent failed relationship under his belt to brood over. He would probably be leaving soon too, along with her parents. Leaving her alone in this house. They were needed elsewhere, Jane was sure. People depended on them, and Shepard was an adult and could take care of herself.
She’d hardly thought about John’s presence much. Or about what he’d seen when joining the marines. Why he was even here? “You like it? Being in the Alliance.”
“When you’re not getting shot at, or losing your friends, it can be alright. You know how it is.”
“Have you seen some serious combat?”
“I was at London, but after the initial hit. I was there to visit, before Mom and Dad, when you were in the hospital.” John wasn’t much for subtly, no more than his sister. Or pauses. Or self-reflection, really. “There are group, you know. We could go to those. Sometimes, I go. It does help, to talk about it.”
“I like talking to you, John.”
Her family, still miraculously intact and whole.
Liara had wanted kids, one day. Kids to protect and watch over, in a more peaceful tone. More than one perhaps, since she’d been a lonely only child. Daughters that they would smother and never leave alone, and would be half Jane Shepard. Her poor pureblood lover, who had never had a lover before the Commander. Who had been repulsed when Jane had told her one night that she should find another bondmate after Shepard had died, someone that she could love and spend the rest of her lifetime with.
As for the group thin, there were no great traumas she could even talk about, exactly. The Blitz? That had been a victory, painful as it had been. Everything else, she’d won, in the end.
She hadn’t been paralyzed. Hadn’t lost any limbs, though who knew how long she had left with these parts in her would last? There had been people who’d lost entire squads, family, huge swaths of people were still technically MIA, and what could she say about her own losses?
And what really was Jane Shepard supposed to say to a bunch of stranger sitting around and drinking coffee? Talk about how she was trying to sabotage the only thing she had left? Even aside from Liara, she was just begging to get into a fight with Hannah and get thrown out of her house. Talk about the crazy mood swings, about her sex life where she’d want nothing more than to screw Liara into the hard floorboards. Then flinching away when the asari went to kiss her, trying to play it off. The times when she go through the motions, for her partner’s sake, only to have Liara pick up on that during their meld, and pull away.
That melding. The goddamn nightmares, especially when Liara would inadvertently form a union with Shepard, as they both slept. Waking up, and even lying down feeling dazed. Wanting an end, and how Liara had begun hiding her pistols and the sniper rifle Garrus had sent, and wouldn’t buy even wine anymore because the alcohol unleashed something.
She’d wake up after a few drinks, knowing as soon as she opened her eyes that she’d messed up somehow, again. See the bruises on her bondmate from a successful drunken screw where Jane would be the dominant one. Or maybe no one had gotten off again and she’d simply lain there afterward, with her lover trying to comfort her. It didn’t matter. Liara would walk on egg shells and wanting to know if the poison was gone from this quieter Shepard. For a while, it would be, between the hangover and the shame. But it wasn’t worth the drinking, the asari must have decided.
I never cried in front of Liara, though she has expressed emotion over me plenty of times. The last to say how I felt about her. It’s a complete cliché, that I ruined my relationship because I was afraid of hurting her. A little bullshit and oversimplification, but what the hell about relationships isn’t?
She would cry in front of those strangers though. Untie the knot and everything would spill loose.
It would end up in some tabloid or something. Liara would probably find it, and Shepard could not summon the strength to even imagine her reaction. She was the Commander Jane Shepard, and certain things were expected of the person that had helped save the galaxy. Her cover here would be blown, and then she really would have to go to some planet covered in ice, where no one ever stopped to even refuel. A place where she’d only hear her heartbeat, and would burrow into herself and hit bedrock and still keep searching for why she was even alive, and what she had done.
Liara would probably follow her there, too. And that probably hurt Jane the most.
“Jane? Are you alright? You’re just sitting there.”
“John, what the fuck do I do about my problems? Since you’re now Siddhartha, with a worse haircut.”
“Like you can talk.” He tried to take the lighter from her, and watched when Shepard closed her fist around it. “And don’t set anything on fire, please.”
“I don’t know what to do with my life. I’m literally falling apart. I’m fucking up my life, and I don’t know how to stop doing that.”
“You love her, this Liara woman--asari, sorry—then why are you messing around, trying to kill us all with your smoke? Or you could bring her here, rather than just annoying Mom by shacking up with her.” He was moving away from her, still looking official. Her baby brother, all grown up and probably with his own adult issues.
“I’m not claiming to know what’s up with you too. But you haven’t smiled once since being here. Or talked about what happened those two years. Or anything about the war. It’s all been focused on Liara. Maybe it’s better than you two separate, and you get some help. I’m not sure if I feel alright with inflicting some innocent person with you right now. But you should at least contact her. To tell her how you feel, good or bad.” He was biting the inside of his cheek, looking tense. It was a nervous tic she’d never seen him do before.
More feelings. I’ve never written poetry, or even taken her to dinner. It’s all been focused on the war, and what might happen after that.
The honeymoon period, if they’d ever had one, was long over.
“Can you just go? For a little while. I need to think.”
The once-spectre watched the sunlight leaking through the window go away.
She couldn’t stay here, she didn’t know if she could face Liara. Just torn in two. Either way, she was a wreck, but at least with Liara, she’d felt…better. Not good, but it was simply a little easier to rant and scream. There had been less buried. Was that better?
She looked at her legs, stretched before her on sheets that needed to be changed. Half-dead, like the rest of her. How long could she have, of this? How many years would she have to live, even with the failing implants? Ten, twenty years? Of this?
What she’d said, their final conversation, “I don’t want fucking kids, Liara.” The old arguments they’d had, I don’t care if I’m young, Shepard, I want our daughter to have memories of you. They’d said the same words, used the same excuses and that if Liara wanted a kid, she should just find someone else to fuck, because Jane was getting awfully sick of these expectations, when she couldn’t even get anywhere without falling over.
That look, of maybe hatred on that round blue face. Fury. No longer backing up, but coming at the clumsy human woman, armed and dangerous. “You are capable of moving around, just fine. So what if you have to use crutches? Would you like the doctors to take another look at your injuries? Why aren’t you having your cybernetics looked at? Why are we here, Jane?”
This is not how I wanted our lives to end up. I swear. I thought I’d be dead by now.
All that stuff about us fleeing together into space was just a dream, I never thought I’d have to actual live with the shit I did.
That broke her up into laughter. She needed one of those charts, with the faces and expression, to point at and determine how she felt at this point. It burned, to imagine Liara’s face, those eyes nearly black in the winter light, and not in the way they both would have wanted.
I am still alive, and I do have to live with things. I don’t know if I really can have a normal life, but I can try, and I will make Liara happy about something. Tell her I’ll change, I’ll go back to the Alliance. No. We’ll go somewhere with lots of people, we’ll help others. Give me bland words of comfort from others, just let me back near you because being without you is worse.
Please. Please. I’ll be better. I’ll learn to be better. Maybe we can start a family, after I get my head on straight, if you want. If that makes you happy, and you’re not terrified of inflicting an innocent child with my genes.
Jane stumbled around the room. Found a pair of scissor and managed to snip off the last couple of inches from her hair, pleased for some reason at the handful of light orange hair in her hands. It probably looked ragged now, but who gave a fuck. That was the least of her worries. Like Liara was going to reject her because of a shitty haircut.
That amusement came, and she reveled in it.
Maybe it was just a manic upswing, but Shepard would take whatever she could get at this point.
She hadn’t felt so decent in so long. Not good, she knew there was going to be work ahead, that nebulous vague term. But better. No pleasure in this exactly, but satisfaction. Shepard was up again, wrestling with her jacket, and on the move. A new mission, utterly corny and trite, but true and that was nice. Maybe she’d been crawling already on bedrock, and now was time to start looking upward, at least.
Such words of love and affection: with you, I think I can learn to hate myself a little less.
You’re the only think I can trust and actually let my guard down around. You make me feel less like suffocating. Like I’m already dead.
Alive. I can still feel alive with you around.
She grasped that thought, while she gathered what few items she had left and threw them into a suitcase.
Shepard would show up, pounding on the front door, breathless, I can’t live without you. It was bad, but now it’s worse. I’m fucked up. I want help. Help my Liara, help me get better. I want to be that person you fell in love with, not this thing that can’t even smile anymore.
It felt so good to have a plan. Even with the guilt of her running away from Liara firmly planted, it was such a damn relief to know what she should do now.
The night before her Mother was supposed to head back to her post, Jane came to her sibling up before anyone else could wake. “I need your help. Again.”
“Mm? ‘course. What’s wrong?”
“Less.”
“Huh?”
“Get up, please. And put on pants, for the love of god.” Though she was giggling, and trying to cover her eyes while balancing on the crutches. Definitely manic.
John helped her steal their Mom’s hovercar, and for that alone, Jane loved him. She even told him so, and watched him blink in surprise as she tried to maneuver her crutches. “I don’t know where I’ll end up, you know, after groveling to Liara and begging her to take me back, but when we get settled wherever, you can come visit. But After stealing her car, I’m going to ask you to keep the location a secret from Mom.”
Probably crash out no more than five yards from this garage. Or maybe a mere mile from Liara. That would be way more satisfyingly tragic. Childish and nonsensical as hell, Shepard found herself flipping off the old homes of her parent’s neighbors. The entire neighborhood, because she could leave and never see this again. This old ugliness. She was still alive, and could escape and curse and rage and smell cigarettes on her clothes and move.
It was a fucked up ride that made her empathize with Joker all the more. Except the hot-shot pilot was way better on his feet than her, as he’d mentioned a hundred times. The last time the crew had been together, holding drinks, with Garrus smiling and cracking jokes about Shepard’s aim still being better than Joker’s so he’d better watch himself. Tali next to him, getting a little tipsy and laughing at everything. Ashley and Vega and Cortez getting serious about their drinking and Javik shaking his head at all of them. Liara, to lean against and nearly carry Shepard to their cabin.
That kiss, the tumbled into the bed, literally, and being so glad to be alive and with her. Had she actually said something horrible, something along the lines of ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Something that made her want to drive this car off a bridge?
Shepard remembered the sleeping melds that hadn’t brought on nightmares, dreams of each other’s families and lost memories of their childhoods. What their life together could be. After the war.
When she got there, Liara was gone and had been for some time it looked like. Taking her clothes and personal belongings. Leaving only Shepard’s armor in the closet and her chipped dog tags on their rough attempt at a bed.

Liara crept up to the window, feeling decades younger. A terrible sensation, of regret, rising in her throat. She watched Jane’s dark back finally disappear, moving easily through the street, head down and hair blowing into her face. Even with the crutches, she had an easy grace that tore something inside the asari staring at her. She could feel tears on her face, hot, then growing cold in the freezing air.
The most vibrant person in her life, gone.
The apartment emptied out.
She had just thrown her sick, wounded lover outside of their home of several months now. Into the snow. After having literally thrown a bag of clothes at her head.
Her eyes, unfocused, as she looked at their bed.
Eventually, she realized she was curled up, arms around her knees. How she’d been like that, Liara had no idea. There was no crying, only this horrible emptiness that reminded her of realizing that Shepard had no gotten on an escape pod, that she’d been left on that dying ship, that she could not be saved. That gaping void that had swallowed her up until Jane had stepped into her office and back into her arms.
The sound of the young asari inhaling and exhaling was the only thing in the universe.
Her eyes were closed, focused on her breathing, and in time, could uncurl her limbs.
Shepard would come in, sweaty and angry, hating herself for leaving and for coming back. Furious, glaring, trying to play off the entire thing as she did with all her outburst, good or bad. She will be mad and tired and just collapse and expect Liara to never mention this episode, like the other ones. Liara will have to help her remove her pants, and they might even talk and apologize to each other rather than ignoring this latest argument.
Jane might even come in with a change of heart, and decide she’d had enough of this place, enough of this brittle silence and come in flushed and beautiful. ‘We need to talk.’ Then they would exchange ideas, the old plans, and would sink into the bed to make love and actually form an union during it. One more night here.
Liara got up, and found herself walking around the apartment, throwing clothes into her suitcase before deciding to distract herself by using the terminal and going over messages she didn’t care about. Biting her tongue, and finding a cigarette but having to search for a lighter. Watching the smoke rising to the water stained ceiling in shapes of animals Jane had known told her about. There was truly only a single large room in this apartment, the bathroom the only area partitioned off, and how the two people living here would circle each other in this space.
At least this time there had been no alcohol, no furious Shepard sinking further down a wall, wearing a hideous grin as she taunted Liara. As she talked about the Crucible, and what she’d done, the responsibility that she’d carried and born. The only time she would talk about the war, and the only time when Liara didn’t want to hear her speak.
The sound of her swallowing, splayed out on the kitchen tile. Relaxed. ‘Sometimes, I wish I’d died at the Blitz.’
‘Sometimes I wish you would just use those biotics to snap my neck.’
‘You could give me another shot, and then I’ll go take a bath and just sink under the water.’
Those green eyes lit up, for once. Amused as Liara flinched and looked at her.
‘Don’t pretend you didn’t sometimes wish I had died.’
Liara hadn’t recovered from that, but had found herself moving forward. Practically bowing before Jane, as she hadn’t done since she was a child before Athame’s statue. A lie, she now knew, though Shepard had been the genuine article of grace and heroism. ‘No. Never. Never, Shepard.’
Wanting to scream at Shepard, for giving into whatever deep-seated hatred she had for herself. Tell her how obsessed she was for punishing herself, and for what, for saving the entire galaxy?
White teeth, and then there was only the warmth of their bodies and those eyes that refused to close and Liara had been so grateful for that, all of that. On her back, being grinded into the cold tile, so happy to experience this, this gift of being chosen by Shepard, not minding the bites. She’d been lost then, in her retreating fear and the heat between her legs and fingers and having Jane back again. Only able to manage not reassurances or questions, but the only truth she could cling to, ‘I love you.’
‘I know. I wish you didn’t.’ The curtain of red hair, as Jane looked away.
Not melding. There was precious little of that, and Liara wanted to weep every time that closeness was denied to her.
No.
Jane was going to come back. One day, they might bring this up, with Shepard rolling her eyes at the memory. Only then giving in and admitting how ridiculous it had been, while Liara perhaps leaned across the table of wherever they were, perhaps the Citadel, and kiss and forgive her all this. Over and over again. Losing themselves in each other again. That had been nothing. Forget it.
Or maybe Jane would stay away, for a brief while. Until they were both calmed down. Liara could imagine her out there, somewhere leaning against a wall, shaking her head and cursing. Maybe they needed this brief respite from each other? As soon as she came back, Liara vowed, they would confront their problems like adults.
Liara looked out the window for any sign of Shepard, and was annoyed at herself for doing so. It was too much like being a child again, and waiting for her mother to return and save her from the company of blank-faced commandos. Asari that ranged from general kindness to being irked at babysitting duty to trying to make friends with the shy child under their care.
For a few hours, it was almost peaceful, this silence. Liara read and wrote to her informants. Listening for the shriek of those crutches coming up the stairs, Shepard’s cursing as she stumbled up that final step. The weight against the door, hearing her knock.
In the morning, she awoke alone, and could not understand why this was so.
Her face was creased from the keyboard, and touching the new marks, Liara remembered the last battle she had fought. The oily smoke and flames, the Mako going flying, losing Shepard, the burns and injuries that she’d hardly noticed until she was being led by a shocked bleeding Ashley to what was left of the army. Realizing the purple staining her clothes was probably her own, and that the medic there was applying something to her face that hurt and wondering how bad the damage was and why couldn’t she see clearly out of one eye? Realizing that Shepard was being recovered, and then running away from their friends to go out with the search party. Wounds forgotten until Jane was being carried away and Vega was grabbing her and forcing her to rest.
The doctors had been saying things she didn’t understand, and Liara had just nodded and felt a nurse trying to apply another bandage.
She hadn’t truly recovered until she was in that hospital room, kissing Jane’s forehead carefully. Knowing that she would be okay. The long days of sitting in chairs and endlessly white walls and watching the war end as she watched swelling and bruises heal. Hardly paying attention to anything besides that still figure on the bed. A week, perhaps, passing and Liara finally seeing, truly seeing herself in a mirror.
Shepard awoke, with her own injuries, and her own vanity was set aside. It was only after the Commander began to become aware of her surroundings that Liara actually got the skin grafts. She remembered the nights in that bed, fingers running over her face, the words that so rarely came to Jane’s lips even before she’d woken to find her body in such critical condition. That phrase, that human title, of ‘girlfriend’ came to her as the doctor stood over her, and she thought of how little it really summed up her relationship with the spectre while waiting for the pain medication to hit.
There would be no relief in this apartment without Shepard.
Her old white armor was looser than she remembered, and looking at Jane’s was painful. A part of her wanted to slip the breastplate of it onto her own chest, just to have some part of her remaining. Just as she’d kept that piece of her armor, at the apartment on Illium.
A terrible voice crept into her head, cold fingers wrapping around her neck. She’s dead. Has been for hours. No, for much longer than that. Since she left you to face the Crucible. Whatever came back is already dead. You found her corpse again.
Now, let’s see if you can’t find it for the third time.
Shut up. Jane is not dead, she is simply lost. That goes for now, and after she recovered at the hospital. I will find her, and apologize, and then everything will go back to how it was.
Of course, there was no sign of Jane. Between the falling snow, and Liara’s few skills at tracking, there was nothing left of Shepard. Anything could have happened to her, and she wouldn’t know. Their connection had been distorted, and she could hardly feel their union as soon as Shepard enough of their meld.
By the third day, she was searching through their list of friends and acquaintances, asking them not-frantically if they had heard anything about Shepard. Anything. Trying to sound calm, while her hand was a pale fist, nails digging into her palm until there were half-moon cuts there. Had she truly allowed Shepard to leave the safety of this home, was she responsible for Jane’s death?
When she got ahold of her father, at Thessia and reunited with two of her daughters, her emotions were finally revealed in a sickening glut of horror and fear. “I don’t know where she is!”
“It’s Shepard. There’s no way she wandered off to far. I’m sure she’s fine.” But there was a tiny hint of tension on Aethyta’s voice.
“What? Did you hear something?”
“No. I just can’t believe that she took off on you like that.”
Oh. Yes, this would hit a nerve with her father. “I scared her out. We got into a fight. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue with her. Not after all she’d been through.”
“You’ve been through some shit too.” Aethyta sounded quieter than normal. “You okay?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“I’ll put some feelers out there. Don’t worry. She can handle herself.”
Shepard, in that familiar jacket, the hood down and exposing the bloody remains of her skull. No stranger creeping away, looking for credits, but only a pistol held in a gloved hand. After the war, she’d taken to covering her hands more and more, and Liara could only wonder why. Another new quirk, like the lack of humor and the silences and the way she would lose herself in daydreams.
It would be so simple to lose Jane. To have her slip through the cracks of the galaxy. All it would take was a pistol, since her armor was sitting there in the closet. Waiting for its owner to come, as faithful as a pet. Jane Shepard without that armor, without a weapon, without being a Commander, was not the same lovely woman that had saved Liara from a slow death. Cleaved and reduced somehow, apparently. In her own eyes.
Without being a soldier, there was nothing left for Jane Shepard, ex-Commander, ex-spectre.
That voice, back to tighten her stomach, you were not enough for her. To make her happy.
Her eyes slid closed. “And what are you doing, on Thessia? Trying your hand at politics.”
“I’m putting the word ‘host’ back in hostile work environment. You think you might come by? We could always use more hands out here.”
Liara stood up, trying not to look around the apartment as though Shepard had somehow been hidden there all along. Up the stairs, where Jane either couldn’t or refused to navigate using her crutches. Bricks, covered with chipped paint surrounded her, and how she’d loved that texture the first time coming here. Part of the reason they’d chosen this particular building.
She kept her voice even. “Maybe. If Jane has decided she’d grown tired of this place. I had hoped to meet her parents, and brother, before we left.”
With Aethyta, there was little judgment. Even at their differences in opinion, she was easy to talk to. Either the age difference, the lack of time spent together, or simply because Aethyta was Aethyta, but her father was one person whom she had little to hide from. All her life, Liara had wondered who her other parent was, conjuring up the idea of a matriarch that would be similar to Benezia, if without such a strict idea of what she’d wanted her daughter to become. The reality was much more comforting.
She was the only person Liara had even mentioned Shepard’s problems to. If not the full extent, and how she felt about being taken hostage by Shepard’s mood swings. Liara undid the locks, after pushing aside the canisters with their labels pointed a specific way.
“You still haven’t met her family? Aren’t they still on Earth? What have you two been doing over there?”
The asari listened to her father trying to embarrass her as she counted the weapons over and over again.
All of the guns were still here.
But that wasn’t as reassuring as Liara might have thought.
“If I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know, kid.”
##
It was like being on Illium, the long hours, conscious of every moment that passed. Hearing a tick in the walls, despite clocks that were indeed silent no matter how often she checked to make sure. She’d wanted silence, in that sterile room. Devoid of little personality, items picked out for their bland aesthetics. Only the prothean artifacts had been truly her’s. Left still there, she realized.
Along with her physical degree, on the wall. Countless books she’d collected. Holovids, some of which would have been embarrassing for someone to find. ODS’s stacked and hidden everywhere. The terminal, constantly wiped and monitored. How much had she left there? Things that she’d thought were unimportant.
No, that wasn’t right, exactly. They were important, to her, and she had left them there. Away from this place that held the most important person in her life. It was vital, somehow, for her to understand why she’d done that. Had she wanted to return to Illium, to that planet with its squirming secrets and lies that she’d quickly sick of, even as she relished the power she’d managed to attain? By herself, for the first time. Free and miserable and sick at losing Jane.
It stuck with her, as she made coffee. An entire pot, for herself as Jane would not rise from a slumped form on the bed, grabbing at her crutches and ignoring any help.
Shepard had slipped through the cracks again, and might be dead again. Might be out there, body stiffening in the cold. Liara shuddered, and gave in to her urge to run into the street again and search for her. Any sign.
Why had she waited so long? What the hell had possessed her to just sit there, smug, while letting her lover leave? So sure that Jane’s pride, a wounded struggling thing, would be abandoned. Sometimes, that seemed to be the only the Commander had left. That, and her stubbornness.
Why the hell hadn’t she gone after her?
Positive of her own righteousness. As though being right mattered when it came to things like this. They’d been together for years now, even if that time hadn’t been consecutive. Those few months aboard the first Normandy, growing accustomed to each other and that they might actually become bondmates. Then after she’d come back to Mars, to rejoin her. Before then, truly. Those two years, even with Shepard dead, Liara had lived and belonged to the spectre. The six months when she’d been grounded and Liara had spent the time dodging Cerberus and looking for anything that might help them against the Reapers.
It had been the worst and best time, in the new Normandy. Shepard in her arms, often, if not nearly enough. Both of them finding spare moments of peace as they watched the galaxy falling apart.
She didn’t know what to call this time now. Of its endless fights and silences, the hopes and relief that she was finally with Jane and they had the rest of their lives together. Then the fear that this is what the next many decades would consist of.
Liara left, after prudently turning the coffee maker off. Shepard would come home, minutes after she’d left, and find it on to chide her with. ‘You could start a fire with this. No, really. Besides that generator only has so much fuel. You’re the smartest person I know, but sometimes you forget little things.’ She would collapse in those arms, inhaling that familiar smell of her lover’s body, and not care about anything but Jane’s presence.
Still angry, but pleased that Shepard had come back. Again.
How far could Shepard have gotten?
Warehouses, empty stores, the abandoned homes and rows of apartment houses could have all held Shepard. And there were so many of them. Even the half-torn down ones could hold someone inside. Enemies, stalking her, or people that needed assistance or some kind or Shepard, hurting, unconscious. Her omni-tool lit the way through narrow alleys, and every few seconds she would look at it so see if someone had left a message.
If there was one thing Liara had prided herself on, it was her concentration. Sometimes it would backfire, like when she realized how attracted she was to that laughing woman talking to crew members, losing her mind as she noticed the hair was the shade of fire and flickered and changed in the light. Forgetting everything else as she took in things like ears, and green eyes and small freckles that were red-brown and a mouth the color of pink Earth roses she’d discovered on the extranet as she researched Jane’s home planet.
Now, it seemed to have fled her. All those years of honing her skills at focusing on tasks at hand, at compartmenting, had left with Jane.
She’d never quite seen anything like this place. Even on London, there had never been anything like this. The homes had been damaged, but recently, and had been designed differently. Less wood, more stone on that large city. Bright lights, from the flames and electricity, where it still worked. Growing up, she’d spent her time on one of Benezia’s estates scattered through the asari worlds, hiding in her bedroom when not at the library or with a tool, scratching through the dirt at a likely spot.
A hand pressing into her crests, ragged nails scratching, pushing Liara further where she wanted her. ‘You are a puppy. Do you know what that is? Following me and watching with those eyes, digging everything up.’
Jane would become a different person. Had become a different person, since that last fight.
She left you. Preferred to risk death out here than spend another second in that apartment.
I didn’t do anything.
Exactly. You knew that she was not okay and hadn’t been, and your solution was to ignore it. Take away alcohol that actually peeled back that exterior and hid the guns away. As though she couldn’t get to them at any time. What would you have done? Moved them further away from her, slapped her hands when she reached for them, treated her like a child even more? As though you were in any position of authority when it came to Shepard.
That is completely unfair. I tried to help. I tried to talk to her, countless time. I never ordered her to do anything. If she wouldn’t listen to my questions, why should she have heard me making demands of her?
“Was I supposed to be another enemy for her to beat? She should have talked to me. This should not all fall on me. It’s her fault too.”
For being ill?
Yes. It is unfair. I know. But she should have spoken to me. “Why couldn’t she talk to me?”
The voice offered no answers.
She searched for another two hours before heading back.
The sight on the terminal screen blinded her. All her eyes could make out were the letters that spelled her bondmate’s name, and she hit the button to open the note so hard it hurt her finger.
It was a polite message. One that Jane had surely never seen as it was being sent. Much less frosty than the earlier ones from Hannah, where Liara had contacted her in an attempt to share her grief about Jane’s death. Trying later to make a connection, when Cerberus had brought Shepard back, and Hannah had been desperate for any news about her child’s apparent resurrection. That message where the Rear Admiral had been so relieved, only to shift to that tense stand-off tone at the next note. The odd terse sentences that Liara had found off-putting and disappointing, solved when she’d found a gossip magazine that explained in unnecessarily explicit details of Commander Jane Shepard and her apparent asari lover, Doctor Liara T’soni. Then finding another article about it. Then another. Then the pornographic movie featuring them as inspirations.
After that, she hadn’t contacted Hannah Shepard much, afraid of even making a worse impression. It was only after the Reaper invasion had stopped did the asari attempt to talk to Jane’s mother. And her father, who was an odd figure that sparsely wrote to anyone. A brother, that Jane had never spoken of.
The information broker had tried to keep an eye on all of them, the occasional message and gift that hopefully wouldn’t be seen as blatant flattery.
There were certain rituals in human culture, she’d found. Meeting the family of a bondmate, of a spouse, was expected in a courtship. Especially in one where they were living together, and had been talking about children.
She had wanted…she had wanted to make sure Shepard and her family were comfortable with her, and her presence and the complications of a child that may strain the familial bonds they had for Jane. Acceptance had been the key, empathy and understanding. Her own mother would have been amused, if a little thrown off by Liara’s choice in partners, while Aethyta had only made jokes and seemed to get along with Shepard, well enough.
Liara stared at the screen, going over certain words over and over again.
This woman, who had raised Jane. Who had been so pleased at Liara’s message, informing her of Jane’s safe return. Now, she was the one to inform Liara of Shepard’s continued existence.
It was polite, this message. Just gently bringing up that she’d heard Jane and her had been having issues, and that she didn’t want to take sides, but she hoped they worked it out because Jane wasn’t doing so well over here, and Hannah was a little worried about her. About both of them.
No real feelings shown about having her daughter back, despite their strained history. Shepard had once revealed in the meld a dark-haired woman with cold eyes, yelling at some teacher of Jane’s during a child’s game that hadn’t been going well. Failure. A cold silent trip home with her brother John besides her, looking sick and staring out the window. The woman that had directed Shepard into the Alliance and had been the one to teach Jane how to drive and had been the one to save her from countless misadventures. Who had probably been the one Jane had called for rescue, for an escape away from Liara.
Forcing herself, she sent a simple reply back that thanked Hannah for her concern.
The cup was freezing to the touch, startling her. Sometimes in that rush of blood, the only thing she felt, she’d put down her coffee long enough for it to stop steaming. Since Jane had left, Liara had kept the temperature in this apartment lower.
She sat there, looking at her mug, and surprised herself by throwing it across the room.
##
It took approximately nine hours for Liara to realize she’d been seething.
She wanted to run, to leave this place and have Shepard worry about her. To go to Thessia and meet her half-sisters and spent time with the father she hardly knew. To leave as Shepard had done, to her own family as well on some asari system, and hide herself in work.
There were no excuses this time. A childish reluctance to confront her problems, and running away rather than confront the issue. From both of them, really. That pride and fear had kept Shepard from coming back, and it was keeping Liara from going to her. She could see herself at the front door of the house seen only through the extranet when researching the Shepard family. Meeting them, and seeing Jane’s expression, seeing her bondmate looking up at her, looking…
Perhaps she doesn’t want you to go to her. You two are separating from each other. Like your own parents had.
This was not what had happened to them, Liara told herself. Benezia had whatever reasons to keep her daughter from Aethyta, and they were probably not like Jane’s. Whatever issues they’d had, it was not what Liara and her own bondmate were facing. Aethyta was not a liar, would not have raised expectations like--
Goddess.
Shepard was not supposed to be another lie, another deception, another disappointment.
There was a headache coming, and she knew exactly where the aspirin was and roughly how many capsules were inside the bottle that Jane had to open sitting down. Migraines were also a new quirk of Shepard’s.
As were those pesky suicidal thoughts you did nothing to help with.
Liara did not bother responding.
And of course she and Shepard had no children to fight over and worry about prejudices. Little blue children with blue or green eyes that would keep her and Jane on her toes and argue over their futures with and Liara would have savored every fight and apology and inevitable caving from her partner, who’d always had a soft spot for children.
She found herself making a few more dents on the walls, lower than Jane’s because it was hard to kick with failing legs that Shepard was doing nothing about because she wanted to fall apart, to die finally, again, and leave Liara and free herself from whatever hell she’d convinced herself this peace was. The apartment stopped being so quiet then, and Liara realized that she hated the sound of her sobbing. As well as despising wanting the warm body of her partner here to comfort her, to continue their lies so long as it meant that she was here and Liara wasn’t alone again.
Little things kept her occupied. Anything to keep her moving, while she worked through her feelings. That kept her from taking a wall out with her biotics. The same things that had kept her separate from her frustrated lover, even when they were onboard the Normandy. Only after (after what, the war, had that ever ended) had they become things Liara had clung to.
When she found herself at the terminal, all she could see was the ODS’s with their bad vids that Shepard would watch over and over again. The ‘horror’ movies in particular would be alarming, the movies of the dead shuffling and eating the living, with Jane laughing over Liara’s complaints as she took apart all the flaws and dismissed the entire thing as absurd. How at first the human had leaned into her, wanting her even as people were devoured alive on the screen, ‘should a zombie apocalypse occur, you’ll be the only one to survive.’
There was nothing that wasn’t touched by Jane. Even in the plants upstairs, they all had her imprint. Walls literally had marks from her crashing into them, driving her elbow into them, purposely or not. Even in this place, Shepard had to leave an impression, and it was not a good one.
There was something rising in Liara, besides the anger, and it might be shock or dismay. Without a clear enemy, Shepard had to create one, and couldn’t find one entire with Liara. Turned that anger outward onto this world, the rage that had always hidden beneath the calm surface that had driven her forward rather than crumbling. Perhaps spite, even. Without goodness, with a clear path to help others, what had that made Jane? All those tools that allowed her to do the right decisions, they were still there, rusting perhaps, but still dangerous to any enemy.
It might have been a chill going through her, and not from the coldness of this apartment either.
But Shepard was no longer here, no longer here to circle around Liara and start little snips.
She is fine. Safe. And away from you.
“She is not safe at all. Shepard was poisoned by whatever happened with the Crucible. With war.”
Disturbing, to find herself speaking aloud so often. Not since the last years of university, stressed and furious with every little thing, from advisors to reluctant teachers to her own mother, had she fallen into that habit.
The smoking as well, given up because you couldn’t leave ashes all over dig sites with priceless artifacts and couldn’t exactly drop everything every hour to leave the site. Her mother had been at turns amused and stricken when Liara had come home for a visit and lit up carelessly at the kitchen table. Half the time she wouldn’t notice it burning down to the filter until she realized there was nothing left to inhale.
“She is with her family. Her real family.”
It wasn’t so bad, to hear only her voice in this room, and not expect someone to grunt or simply stare at her as though the translator had broken.
When it had come down to choosing to actually go back and talk to her bondmate, Shepard had chosen to return to the people she’d so rarely talked about. If there was closeness and longing, it must have been well hidden. Even over the extranet, they rarely seemed to contact each other.
Liara wondered what type of people the Shepards really were.
Were they, that father and mother, the reason Jane had become what she was? Good or bad? What had they said or done to her, to create such a driven woman? What was John like? People she’d never met, and if Jane had her way, would probably never contact. Was there something wrong with them, or with Liara, or with Jane herself that refused to introduce her blood family with the person she was bonded with?
Why hadn’t she pushed that point?
They were there, those blue-green-eyed people. Tall and stiff-backed. She’d seen them, through their melding. When she concentrated, Liara could see them again. A baby coming home from the hospital, a brother that she’d wanted to look out for only to drift away from. A silent father that generally didn’t seem overly interested in his two children. An angry mother with unfocused expectations neither child had met.
Yet they were also the people that had carried her to bed, read stories to, had played with and protected her and been protected by her in turn. They were the ones she’d hugged and loved and wanted to make proud as she’d headed off for Basic training. Those were the ones that had taken Jane in as she’d raged and hurt everything around her. The rest of the Shepards might be better at protecting Jane from herself.
Almost understand clearly what Jane felt for them, arrested and distorted by resentment and distance, but understand not while she’d gone to them. She’d spend six months alone with no contact from anyone else, even family. Shepard was not an overly sentimental person, and didn’t seem to have any urge to flee to family, to her pack, like others. Those people, who’d left impressions that ranged between love and guilt and always this gap between them and Jane.
A family that Liara had not been allowed to meet.
Why had she come here? Besides at Shepard’s request. Why had she wanted to come here, besides appeasing Jane?
She saw those green eyes, filled with a sick, fiendish joy as she hurt her partner the only way she had left.
Jane had left her. Of her own will. Not forced, for all her problems. She had gotten up, after refusing Liara another chance to talk about their future, about what they could have together and why weren’t they having that life now?
Why were we so miserable?
Why had they both been punishing each other, and themselves? Had they not gone through enough, in part to be with each other, to have this ending that was supposed to be happy? There was supposed to be time on the Normandy, of having each other, of learning every little detail about each other, of becoming proper bondmates and exchanging bracelets during a ceremony with only their friends attending and Shepard looking beautiful in her suit. Daughters, and perhaps an adopted son or two, and Grunt over to share his stories and Aethyta there with Liara’s half-sisters to meet and days spent in the sun and gardens and arguments that ended with making love until they forgot what had upset them. A hundred years together, maybe more depending on advances in medicine and the cybernetics that Cerberus had installed.
Promises exchanged.
Shepard was not going to come through that door, and greet her with a kiss an apology.
This time spent in the apartment was only another waste of her time. Liara was also furious at the tears coming to her eyes, again.
“I don’t want to stay here anymore.” There. The words she’d never said to Jane. “I have had enough of pretending that this is all that’s left of us. We can be more than simply--”
The war? Soldiers? Fighters desperately hoping for an end?
She was Liara T’Soni, doctorate, studier of protheans and ancient civilizations and how they related to one another, fair shot and good typist that preferred the company of books to other asari, even now sometimes.
Commander Jane Shepard’s bondmate, and fighter of Reapers. Or she had been that person.
Tired of battle, that much Liara knew about herself now. Still awkward around strangers, still with possession of a vivid imagination, still smitten hopelessly with the first human spectre. All those past things were still part of her, but now she wanted to do something besides simply look at screens, and wait.
What did she want to do now?
I wanted to see Earth. Explore its history, and spend more time with those who would not look to me for all the answers, that would not name their young after me. What the Citadel and asari space could not offer.
She had come here to see more of this planet, one that she’d only seen through the extranet and melding with Shepard. To compare the oceans here with her home world. The largest cities these humans had been, squarer than the ones on Thessia. The countries of Europe. And further east. Australia was sunny this time of the year, undergoing summer. To help others, to work, yes, but also to simply learn something new.
It had been so long since she’d been by herself. Even at the university, there had been eyes watching. She still had her network to monitor, but she was ultimately adrift. So much of her work was done over the extranet rather than in person. There was nothing keeping her here. Shepard had left.
She packed up her things, amazed at how little they’d procured over the months spent here. There was nothing here of Jane’s that the Commander had seemed to care for and still had a use for. Few pictures and mementoes. Very little of them, things they’d chosen together, signs that they’d been lovers. Her clothes neatly folded by Shepard herself, and packed alongside Jane’s. Liara gave into the urge to take a shirt, and simply feel the familiar fabrics and smell, then slide it alongside the other things in her bag.
Some food, all of which was bland as both she and Shepard seemed to have little appetite these days. Let alone seeking out food together to eat in the middle of the night, as they had on the Normandy.
Holding those dog tags nearly undid her, and she held them in one hand. Shepard had died with these on, these pieces of metal that carefully spelled out her name. The sound they made when hitting the bed hurt, but Liara had been living with various forms of pain for some time now, and realized there were worse things.
Liara also took the hamster with her.
##
The sight of all the buildings before her wiped out any lucid thought.
They were lit, somehow, despite the damage. The majesty and strength of humanity before her. Filthy and war-damaged, but rebuilding already. It was like so many cities that she’d seen, before and after the war, set in a usual rough grid with skyscrapers and traffic like clouds of insects, but this one in particular was much filthier than any others she’d seen outside of refugee camps. How Alenko and Williams and Joker and Shepard had gotten together one night on the Normandy, to sip beers and talk about Earth.
“What was the worst place you’ve ever been, on Earth?”
“I had a layover at Newark. Next time, I’d just strap myself to whatever ship was setting out.”
“Montreal. My translator broke too, and I don’t know any French. Harrowing, I tell you.”
“My Mom was stationed in New York for a while. Got lost there. In the subway.”
The others had all nodded at that story and sipped their drinks. “That explains some things.”
Now Liara could get lost in the underground subways as Shepard had done years ago, and most certainly did lose her way even with maps. It was far from a deterrent; the archeologist stumbled out onto the wrong street, relieved and delighted by even that short unpleasant smelling adventure.
She could only take this experience in with a startled pleasure. It was comforting, this interfacing with things and people that did not expect her to eventually give into whatever request. Rare to exchange small talk that she still fumbled at. Stares and double-takes were harmless, Liara was remembering. Not like on the asari systems, where people would want to talk to her and expect answers she could not give. Now it was humans, and they only stared to leer or wonder what someone of her race in that armor was doing here. Perhaps a few recognized her as being part of the Normandy crew, but either way, she was not accosted.
It was probably similar to when Jane would go out in public; people refused to believe that it could truly be the Commander.
During her entire time in this city, spent practically in rapture as she discovered how many of the museums had been saved, Liara was able to be by herself. No shadow with a sullen face beneath a fringe of red hair to watch her.
It was different now, this time spent alone. The bridge between her and others was not necessary, even if it was still welcome. Things, images of Jane haunted her, but not exhaustingly. There were plenty of distractions, as she delved into human cuisine and art that still hung on the walls of the repairing museums and fluttered through libraries. She was still very much aware of her breath and that her heart still beat and that the sun on Earth was a beautiful thing to wake up to.
Despite everything, it was still comforting to think of Jane waking up under the same sun and falling asleep beneath the same moon. Though she didn’t need Liara there to hover around, watching every movement. Looking for cracks, literal or otherwise. She was fine, Liara reminded herself over and over again, as she spooned ice cream and wandered into a theatre featuring a play that involved little plot, lots of dialogue, and even more nudity. When she came out, embarrassed at herself for still being distracted by what she’d seen on stage, the yellow light seemed brand new again.
The asari still would imagine her lover’s reaction to things, imagine her walking besides Liara, but knowing that Shepard was somewhere else, presumably safe and relatively happy perhaps. As happy as the Commander could get these days. Maybe her family would be able to undo some of the damage war had caused.
They might have whatever Liara lacked to make Jane heal.
She relished her imagination then, if briefly. Holding hands with an unscarred Shepard that had never had to fight the Reapers and give more and more of herself away to the galaxy. Falling in love, fresh, anew, neither weighed down with nightmares. Them together, rather than Liara by herself in a crowd of strangers. That might have been the only thing to make this better, yes, a healthy Jane at her side to explain the street performers or crude whistles.
At first, Liara had been engulfed in the emptiness of pounding guilt as she managed to find a hotel room and had to spend a night in a new place. For so long, Liara had slept only under those blankets on the floor or on at the work station in her cabin with a holopad beneath her cheek, or at her table on Illium. Sleeping alone after sharing a bed with Jane was not a pleasant experience. Shepard, who might have night terrors she never wanted to talk about, but would still seek physical comfort by pressing her face into Liara’s shoulder or back. The warmth of the body next to her always calmed the asari, even if she’d preferred to sleep in her own bed before meeting the commander. It seemed a new awful step as they moved further apart from one another.
She was leaving Shepard behind, and that was something she’d never done before. Even when handing off her body to Cerberus, it had always been Jane that left her waiting. As the Normandy exploded around them. On Illium, as she went to stop the Collectors. At London, as Shepard turned back and went off to what both had thought would be her death.
Now.
It was sickening, the relief she felt now.
There were no tense silences, no angry person in the corner of her vision, sucking away emotions like the human version of an Ardat-Yakshi . They had needed space from each other, no matter how much it hurt. If only to see how the other still felt. They could survive without one another. Shepard didn’t want dependence on her, Liara knew. It was part of the reason she’d left and refused to start a family with her.
Liara could even turn on the terminals and watch the news with the volume turned up. Could call her family and speak with them without hushed tones about their own children and what was going on with the recovery efforts and had they heard from this person or that? Talk to Feron, aloud, rather than through messages as sometimes Jane would watch her carefully whenever the drell was mentioned. Jealous, perhaps, Liara now realized. Of the drell’s easy-going nature and ability to still crack jokes and move past those two years, and that sometimes he could cheer her up.
She could laugh again—even if such mirth was still short lived.
Relieving some of the guilt and shame came only through sending messages to Shepard’s family, alluding in those short sentences that she was no longer in the area. Liara wondered with every word if she was trying to hurt Jane or not. If her bondmate even cared. If she was even her bondmate anymore. Shepard had yet to send a single note to her.
Was she ashamed, or simply unwilling to even talk to Liara? For how long? Would they ever see each other again? Would Shepard just hide herself away, as she’d wanted and told Liara about, retreating to a place where no one would want anything from her and she could never hear anyone else’s voice ever again? Liara hadn’t dared asked the Commander where she fit into that fantasy. Wait until death finally claimed her, once more? Until her implants were rejected, and her skin began to actually peel away and rot, cold and preserved on that planet of ice Jane had talked about longingly, lovingly?
Should she die that way, Liara didn’t know if she would bring Jane back, but knew that Shepard would not want her to.
She saw herself finding Jane there, her body, retrieving it for burial on Earth. Full military honors? Or would Shepard have preferred something private, like during her actual funeral where there had been only an empty coffin and Liara had hardly been able to stand. Such a pointless death no one could have foreseen, not at all how a hero should have gone. No blaze of glory, only her struggling form reaching for the oxygen tubes that had disconnected.
Remembered her body, the same body despite the cybernetics, and giving it to Cerberus. It haunted her dreams even now, the capsule cold and silent, accusing before her. How she’d wanted to open it, just to see how bad Shepard was, if she was truly dead, to touch her one more time and tell that face, pale or blue, that she loved her. Open it, and see the Commander one last time.
Only in her nightmares did she do so.
‘I have a secret to tell you. No one asks, not even you. But I want you to know.’
Eyes a dark and terrible shade of green. Alive, and very much aware of that fact. The kiss to her lover’s cheek was venom. ‘There is nothing. Do you understand? No one asks what I saw when I died, because they’re afraid of the answer. But I know now there are worse things.’
Hell. She was getting lost thinking about Shepard again. Why even bother trying to fight it? This entire time spent away from Jane would be spent worrying about her, but it was still better than wasting away in that apartment miles behind her.
She had only herself to take care of and worry about. Supposedly. In theory.
It didn’t matter how much she mourned what had happened between them. Such a thing didn’t change that there should have been years together, raising children, and simply being together and happy above all. Memories to make and store for when that was all she was left with. She’d gotten the memories, happy and bad, to take with her everywhere.
Liara rediscovered the pleasure in having a drink in a quiet place. Of conversation with others. Both those things together, as she learned of wine bars with respectful patrons. Or small corner bars with old harmless men that stared into their glasses of beer and would exchange tales of woe that made her and Jane’s problems actually look relatively small by comparison. At least they were not locked in a bitter custody battle, exempting the possibility of Shepard coming after the hamster.
The music alone could undo her and allow her brain to focus on other subjects. So much of it, with familiar cadences and some that could not be related to in the least, so much was completely unfamiliar. Old music, beyond the basic instruments that had played in the background of things Jane had watched. Entire orchestras following one theme as they did at the operas playing on Thessia that her mother had taken her to. Liara sat at that opera house with its velvets and hard seats, getting stares and not caring, simply listening and watching.
More than simple bass in clubs or squeal of stringed instruments in the music that her lover would play and know every word to. How she’d used to mouth and sing along with the words, for Liara, to Liara. The Commander on her knees, serenading her with unfamiliar idioms and crude compliments that had the asari dramatically rolling her eyes until finally giving up and picking Jane up to whisk her into her arms.
There was so much about Shepard’s people that she hadn’t known.
So much that she wanted to share with Jane. Watch those startling eyes widen with appreciation, rather than remain dull and flat as she watched the same holovid for the fifteenth time. As Liara watched her, and wanted to grab her by the shoulders and simply shake her. Hurt her. Spur Shepard into some action, either fighting back or fucking her—because that’s what their sex really was, no longer even an attempt at actually making love. Not even of the rough variety, as the Commander would always allow a meld, always want her as close as possible, even after a long bout of teasing. Every punishment would be reward in full, from and to either of them.
That was what she thought about, alone in her hotel room. As lonely as she’d felt in public these past few days, it was even worse here in this bed with a listless hand between her legs. Remembering her first time with Jane, the simple shock of seeing the other naked. How Jane had looked, above her, staring at her face with perhaps as much amazement as Liara. The brush of her hair and being handled, if gently, as her legs were spread and a mouth was touching her. Lapping at her, and those eyes had watched her every reaction. Drinking in her, that night before they went to what they’d feared would be their death. Sweet before bitter, she’d read or heard that somewhere, somewhere.
Liara wept afterward, almost reaching for her belongings, her clothes, for her omni-tool in a haze of confusion and longing. How could anything be worse than being so cold and no one there to kiss her, as Jane had done even as she drowned in her own self-hatred and depression? How could there be anything left when there was no one there to tell her that everything was okay, now go back to sleep, blueberry? The sheets made a poor substitute for having Shepard’s injured leg thrown over her own and that head resting on her back. Snoring, as Liara fell in love with her another few more degrees, another layer of affection and gratefulness, as Jane somehow managed to dig a little deeper into the asari’s soul and mind.
What could she say, what words would form should she actually talk to Shepard, could she talk to her, what was there to say, besides accusations that would only hurt them both?
Eventually, she put down the omni-tool. Found the bed, and settled back down before she’d hit the number to contact Shepard’s family. With her luck, somehow, she’d end up talking to Jeff Shepard or John and flounder for anything to say to those strangers. Or Jane would pick up her mother’s omni-tool or overhear Liara talking with Hannah. Right now, she wasn’t ready to talk to the Commander.
Right now, all she wanted was to close her eyes and breathe in a room that Jane had never seen and never would.
In the morning, the asari found herself on a plane, putting an entire sea between her and Jane. Everyone was very polite as they glanced over her bag and pet, and more than once she had to dissuade the nice woman sitting next to her from ordering something from the stewardess, that she didn’t need a drink, this might be her first time on a human flight in such an old machine, but she was perfectly fine. “--What was that sound?”
The human had pretended not to notice the grip she had on the arms of their shared seats. “Vodka, on ice.”
“That was not the wing, was it? Was it?”
“Make it a double please.”
Arriving drunk was really the only way to handle being back at England. In London, and so grateful for the rain that hid everything. Here she got more stares, and it probably wasn’t from coming through the gates light-headed from the questions of the person sitting next to her and the drinks she’d had.
The time here was spent locked in her room, watching sports and recalling fondly going to her first human sport game and shivering alongside a pack of krogan, all of them cheering the same team. Them supporting the one with red leaves for their own reasons, her because she liked that they’d come from the same country Kaidan had and shallowly liking the look of their goalie, his red-hair shades lighter than Jane’s. She’d even agreed to go out drinking with them, and made sure they all got to their own hotel rooms safely before weaving her way onto the streets and finding a cab. On this side of the ocean, there was rugby, and that was also satisfying to watch the machine of the body running around. Everything right now only depended on who had the ball.
She kept going east, and sliding south through this small continent. It reminded her a little of Illium and Thessia, though lacking somewhat in the familiar gardens and its buildings were still squat, sturdy, and alien to her eyes. Landscapes passed by with her simply content to look at them and be grateful at the recovery efforts springing up throughout the world.
In Spain, somehow, during a layover or perhaps a wrong flight, Liara wasn’t entire sure exactly, in an outside café. Al fresco? Delighting in the ancient buildings of crumbling stone overlooking the water and knowing after simply looking over a map and her guide books, that she had to go next to Greece. It’s effect on so many countries, entire civilizations after its rise and fall was incalculable. Well. Actually it probably was should Liara been so inclined, she could have spent years tracing the patterns of the Greeks and the foundation it had founded. But for now she was content to enjoy the sunlight and wear a white dress that came to her knees and take note of how the water stretched out.
It took years away, to sigh over not an infuriating woman that kept coming to her room to ask about her culture, but the harmless flowers that sprouted from the vines climbing the walls. Enjoy holding a datapad that held nothing more secretive than her travel plans, and what types of wines to try here and what the best museum was while she planned out her future trip to the next country.
It might be simpler to just rent a car and drive to the coast to catch a boat. While of course going through France. That was also a country that had to be seen.
Madrid though, simply had to be admired right now. Her stomach was practically curling around itself in joy over the curved stone and rivers. Much fewer people. Here was Illium, but with more culture and less of that simple greed and department stores and the bars where people drank themselves into a stupor all had some colorful history that she wanted to listen to. To turn her translator off even and rely on her growing familiarity with the ‘Romance’ languages. Different than the rougher ‘Germanic’ tongue that Jane and the other humans aboard the Normandy spoke. Although Vega knew some Spanish…
It was nice, to think such a thing, and not have the words sear in her chest. Shepard had spoken in English, which borrowed from so many other languages, and Liara knew consciously that she was attempting to crawl inside academics to avoid pain.
Work would come later, once she found a hotel room and the portable terminal and got ahold of Feron, who had yet to really come out and ask why the scene behind Liara kept changing.
For now there was a book reading and poetry that she’d stopped reading much of after hitting her sixties and getting enthralled in another prothean dig site that required her full attention. There was trying out electric cigarettes and different brands of the usual type in packs in a hundred different stores, and the discovery that she liked physically watching her cigarettes turn to ash.
Two weeks she lost in Spain, with no regrets. It was eating endless amounts of pasta and things filled with cheese, fermented cow’s milk that she’d avoided until now, and wine from plants that had never left Earth, and spending hours reading and looking over the rivers. If she wanted to talk to someone, there were always others at the nearby bar where she could nurse a glass of something and look over datapads and listen to the voices around in and engage in small conversations. Parrying attempts at flirting with vague smiles and by changing the subject. When she left, it wasn’t without some pause, but there was also relief to close another door behind her and continue moving. Liara just hoped it wasn’t actually fleeing, that she wasn’t purposely avoiding the possibility of Shepard showing up.
Even if a part of her lived and died when she would see a dark-clad stranger in the corner of her eye. Jane had no idea where she was, thanks to Liara herself, and was probably not inclined to come after her bondmate. Separated bondmate. Not even for the hamster that genuinely seemed to hate her, even if she was the only one to feed it and talk to it. Maybe it missed Shepard’s sarcasm as she would speak to it, like a small child. How long had that simple affection towards her pet given Liara hope for their future?
She stepped off the plane, and had to remind herself where she was.
They’d fixed up a lot of things. The old historic sights. Even the cemeteries she later discovered were beautiful, white stone against the dark green of life.
What it looked like at night had to be even more beautiful and she waited patiently inside the airport’s bar for it to come. Every single bartender reminded her of her father, and it still came as a surprise that she could just reach over for her omni-tool and contact Aethyta. Hear that voice and her little comments and complaints about her daughters (including Liara) and for a little while, that was the only important thing.
There was a strength in being alone, dependent, that she’d somehow forgotten. A lesson she’d learned when leaving her mother’s reach for the first time, when coming back from Jane’s funeral and having to learn ‘acceptance’ and how to grieve and being unable to ultimately, when stumbling onto Illium, and becoming an information broker as she planned her revenge.
The weather was colder here, and Liara felt less conscious of the armor she still wore. She fell in love with the churches to deities she didn’t know and the strong coffee served constantly—espresso.
After a week here, Liara found herself talking every night to the same person. It was no longer similar to her time spent in the asari system, now she was back on the Normandy, watching amusement without cruelty flutter across an attractive face.
Every night, they would talk and eat together. Sometimes, Liara would turn her translator off, and simply attempt to figure out the words being strung together, as the human woman laughed and repeated herself over and over. Never minding Liara’s struggling and limp sentences that refused to form and curl the right way as she tried to keep up in the same language. A pretty red-haired girl. Thankfully, the hair was lighter, redder, even shorter. And her eyes a pale blue. That accent quite wonderful. Musical and light, her voice was, and there was little that Liara had heard that was as sweet as that laugh. And the length of her legs seen even with that skirt was also something she appreciated.
It had started when Liara had fumbled catching a spark on her lighter, and this woman had finally grown tired of watching her struggle with it and handed over a matchbook. That had come from a different restaurant than this and its exact origin never explained. Then she’d begun to speak, commenting on Liara’s face markings, the ‘freckles’ she’d been conscious of when younger.
She wished Shepard was here to meet this person, and was relieved that she wasn’t, as Liara could only imagine her jealous reaction.
Especially after the woman escorted her back to her room and decided to cap the pleasant evening with a brush of a kiss.
“There is someone waiting for you, no? And I know you are only passing through. I just simply wanted to kiss you. Just once. Should I apologize for my behavior?” A curious gleam in those pale eyes, that mouth curved in the corners.
“No. No. I am alright. I just didn’t want to give you any false expectations of—I am sorry.”
Shepard, once again her shield.
A laugh. “They are a lucky person.” A flip of a skirt that drew the eye and stole away Liara’s stomach.
It took three tries to open her door.
Another time, and she might have been truly angry, disturbed at such a touch. And a part of her was—it had been unnecessary and unwanted and unrequested. Still, she was more bemused than anything. The thought of someone entering this bubble of solitude, and wanting to kiss her, wanting her, was so very alien a thought.
With a sick thrill, she remembered Shepard telling her to go find someone else to fuck and have children with. Shepard telling her that after she was dead, she wanted Liara to find another partner. Evening in their home, her head resting on Shepard’s lap, simply loving the hands, gloved or not, running over her crests, curious and seeking—“Not once in two years did you even think about having someone else?” The dark looks when she would talk to Feron, and the drell would say something to make Liara smile. She imagined trying to touch another person, an asari with faint white marking, fumbling with her, trying to form a union. With a human.
There wasn’t much longer she could stay in this place. This entire country. Was she going to hop from place to place, avoiding real contact? When would she finally give into the suggestions from her father and come to Thessia? She couldn’t keep living like this, half tied to Shepard and still dragging each other around, and half free and miserable about it.
The asari could hardly sleep, feeling that warm mouth against her own. Not unlike one of Jane’s kisses, not really. Gentle but firm. She hadn’t kissed anyone but the Commander in years, and there had been many years in-between her last kiss and her first one from Jane. A fellow asari, an undergrad, a little hapless but sweet even as she cornering her in the library corner Liara spent at least a solid year of her life in, and giving into an urge that had supposed plagued her for several semesters now. It had been an interesting experience, although Liara annoyed herself by trying to grade both of them after her fellow student had finished. Liara remembered now that she had not given herself a passing grade, as the asari practically skipped away to a life devoid of Liara T’soni, safe in her grace and skill with others. Another kiss, another meaningless moment in her pretty life.
The first time Shepard had kissed her, it had been playful, drunk and for some reason, beneath a garland from some plant. Brief, wonderful, awakening something that Liara had only edged around, had only just begun to truly take note of. In front of everyone else, too. How Jane had pulled away, flushed from the alcohol more than the kiss as Liara had only been capable of standing there and not passing out, “Merry Christmas.” Moving away, then, to talk to Ashley and Tali, while Wrex had seen something amusing enough in the archeologist’s face to make him laugh.
She imagined Shepard, pressed into someone else, hands grazing over those scars Liara had traced with her tongue. Another hand, not blue, clenched in that auburn hair. Someone else seeing those eyes grow dark and hazed. There had been past lovers, sometimes seen through the meld though Shepard never mentioned those women. Her first time supposedly had been interrupted about three-quarters of the way through by her parents walking in on her, and it had been that holiday of dressing up and her partner had been partially (un)dressed as an asari, a fact that Liara had never failed to not be amused by.
Except now, of course.
Sleep was hopelessly out of reach, even after a particularly pathetic time spent masturbating and remembering with pain the first time she’d done this and thought of Jane. Her entire body was marked by Shepard, no matter how many miles separated them. Remembered the first real kiss that the Commander would recall in the morning, removing each other’s clothes and the simple dumb surprise of what the other looked like naked.
Her morning was spent wondering if she should return to that restaurant, or just flee France and go on to Greece now. Drinking lots of small cups of coffee, and feeling her heartbeat and conscious of her comfortably worn shoes on her feet.
Her lover’s own first lover a supposed, fairly neurotic older human woman who’d suffered from severe a case of shame involving dating someone of her own gender for some not-understood reason, and especially one that was like Jane. Who’d left Shepard for…something else, fled from her, after having taught the younger woman that trick with her fingers and how to hide a relationship. A pile of poetry books and brandy was what the spectre associated with that person.
The rest discreet one-nights that had mostly faded from Shepard’s mind, out of a time and disinterest and from not being completely sober as she took a lover. Only after a close inspection and waiting and watching her. Jane had used to be very careful about her choices in partners, usually going for civilians that wouldn’t get close to her. One time, and then she would leave those woman without a number or necessarily her real name. Liara could picture Shepard in a bar, the Afterlife, stalking through looks a pretty woman, taking her to an anonymous hotel room, and having athletic sex that was more a workout than actually affectionate. Shepard, ‘when the lights were on but no one was home,’ a phrase Joker had once used.
All those rules had been thrown out when meeting Liara. Spooning, after having spilled her sad list of lover whose names she could no longer remember clearly. ‘I lost my mind when we met.’
There had only been Shepard, for Liara.
Was Jane with someone else right now? Or thinking about sleeping with someone else? Did she think that Liara had found another lover?
It would be downright horrifying to take another person into her bed. Even during those two years, she’d never look at another person sexually. “Yes, the entire two years.” From the moment Jane had stepped into her room, to confess how she felt, and even now years later, Liara felt like she belonged to Shepard. Created, modeled, for only Shepard. Had she not told Jane that, over and over in and out of bed, in so many ways? Breathing gasps or firm resolute statements, ‘I am yours.’
Regardless of their fights, of Shepard pushing her away time and time again, she’d always been attracted to her. Mindlessly. Glancing at her in the bath, always entranced even while Jane would sink lower in the water to hide herself. She saw nothing wrong with any of the scars or marks or other supposedly imperfections. Even during the worst fights, both furious and sick of everything in their flat, including each other, Liara had adored and wanted her. Even as Shepard denied her the closeness of the meld, she would find herself eagerly lapping at the Commander, be it between her legs or fingers pressed into her mouth.
‘If I were a guy, you’d literally drain me.’ A grin, when Shepard was still capable of even discussing their sex life.
It made Liara burn to think about those words, when she saw a male soldier nearby, looking at her. A little familiar. Just staring at her, like he’d sensed what she had been saying in her own head.
How Jane would panic, to see her sitting her, wishing that she could—Liara wasn’t sure. Get drunk. Take a stranger to her hotel room. Be a person who could do that. See what another person felt like. It would be a human, she knew. Someone tall but not red-haired and without green eyes. Well-built and physically attractive. Liara wanted to be attracted to a body rather than simply form as her race tended to, and focus on that as she would human sports. Admire and shut her brain off. If only she could do that.
If she couldn’t have Shepard, could she one day find another partner? Then, what, contact Jane and rub this into her face? Take pictures or a video of that, and send it along with a note telling her that this is what she’d wanted from Shepard, and why had she run away, and for so long, without a single message? Would that send Jane back, or only sever their connection completely? No more living this half-life of purgatory, of endless guilt over having experienced joy that didn’t involve Shepard.
Other races here, other people, countless others who would not shudder and flinch from her hands. That would look at her with respect and kindness rather than wariness. A warm mouth and an eagerness to please her. A person to talk to. That wouldn’t be so quiet and grudging.
The Alliance marine was coming over to her, all blue eyes and muscles. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you Liara T’Soni?”
##
John Shepard is Jane Shepard, is the first conscious thought, her first comparison. As she watches him smile and his eyes crinkle in the same way.
This is Jane’s brother, the second Shepard. He is so much like her it’s like having her back. But without—everything. At least they look nothing alike. Is that a relief? Had you wanted to meet a freckled, red-haired man with startling green eyes and a perfect mouth?
Not that John’s isn’t also engaging.
It was nice to finally meet him.
They even sit the same way. Both with heavy voices, almost smoky, and she could just sit there and listen to him go on about his time in the Alliance—even as he described what he’d seen, and how long it would take to recover from all this. It reminded her of Thessia, and when she told him about her family, John was very sympathetic. “Are you thinking of going out there?”
Without Jane, was the implication.
“I’m not sure yet. I want to. In time.” She looked down at the coffee she’d hardly touched since he’d eventually sat down across from her. “I might be better off spending my time helping gather resources in other systems.”
“Hannah said you were an ‘information broker’? Does that have something to do with those ‘resources’?” There was a question, in that tired face, too many questions really.
Another time, and Liara might have been defensive. Rather than coy and unafraid. He was a Shepard, after all, and no matter what had happened between Jane and her, she’d never feared the Commander or through extension, any of her friends. John was the little brother, even if he was nearly two meters tall and much broader than Jane; he was the safe member of the family, the one that Jane trusted. “Perhaps.”
The eyes were blue, rather than green, and were darker than Liara’s own. Maybe there was some resemblance around the cheeks, the vague shape of their faces and forehead. She still had no idea what Hannah and Jeff looked like, even after seeing both their children. The lines besides their mouths, that was definitely a feature they shared. The cadences of their voices alike, the sarcasm and self-depreciation.
Though, John Shepard’s grin was wide, goofy. “You’re not exactly how I figured you would be.”
Was she really leaning in, looking at him with a smile and a cocked head? “What did you expect then?”
They crossed their arms and cocked their eyebrows the same way. “Considering you decided to date my sister? I dunno. Maybe blinder, and meaner?”
It was like meeting an old friend, and he seemed to know not to overtly mention her and Jane’s relationship. Carefully stepping around it, and hardly talking about his sister except to say that she was in Newark, again. Liara could see Jane in that apartment, hobbling around like she had been injured anew. At least she wasn’t in some bar, looking over potential mates—that still brought Liara satisfaction that she had no right to, given what she was doing now.
Which was?
I don’t know exactly. But I like this moment right now, sitting here outside and talking to this Shepard.
They ended up spending most the day together. Talking, and growing comfortable with each other as they talked about things besides the war. Family was brought up, old memories and stories, and little details about each other’s lives, what they wanted when things were better. “Some place quiet.”
“I had hoped to meet my father’s side of the family. Perhaps in time start my own family.” She sighed the last part as they walked through a garden. Then told him about her childhood misadventures. Found ducks to feed while eating ice cream. Making plans to go to the museums, the sights. To do what she’d wanted with Jane, and actually live and experience the galaxy again.
Dinner, and the discovery that he also ate the same way Jane did. His laugh, and explanation about how their father used to time them because the last one done had to do the dishes. Both carefully watched the level of wine in their glasses.
An entire day with this agreeable stranger.
The next day, they found themselves ready to talk about her. “Jane’s always had a problem with opening up to others.”
She smiled, and relished having him beside her. The thrum in her stomach and the hideously pleasant way he stayed close to her. “I know.”
“Since she was a kid.” He rubbed his temple. “I used to want to be just like her. When I was growing up.”
“But now?”
“I don’t know.”
Their eyes lingered too long, and both knew it.
Straining their conversation, and keeping this careful space between them. Even as they walked to her hotel room, him escorting her politely before heading to the base to do basically mindless paperwork, after news got out who he was related to. This explained to her, with a certain tenseness in his form, annoyance in his voice.
Liara was normally not the one to recognize such a thing. She’d been the last to really catch on the connection between her and Jane even as the other crew members joked about it and Shepard would always pay a little more attention to her than the others. Yet her and John seemed to snap to whatever uncomfortable thing this was, a thing with sharp teeth and leering eyes that made them careful to not touch hands when they walked side by side.
There was a small scar on his scalp, and Liara could admit to herself that more than asking how he’d gotten it, she wanted to feel it beneath her fingers.
She could have kissed him then. Both wanted it. Love and trust destroyed through dumb attraction and pain.
John had been alone for an even longer time than her.
That unshaven face would be uncomfortable against her skin. Heavier than the Shepard she knew, if they collapsed on her bed, with him on top of her, both squirming. The combined weight on the bed, causing it to sink. His hands were calloused, more than Jane’s, and would be as gentle and curious as his sister’s the first time she’d taken Liara to bed. It wouldn’t be making love, and wouldn’t exactly be simple animal humping, ‘screwing’ as her bondmate might have called it, but something toxic and careful and sweet as poison. Satisfaction beyond mere physical pleasure, but to exist in their own bubble outside of everything for a little while. To beat Jane, in this way, and prove her mortal? To take her down a peg and show her that they existed beyond the Commander? Revenge, was that all it was, or some real link between them that scared them both?
She knew that if she were to make a video and send it to Jane, this would be the person that would hurt the most. It would destroy both of them, tear apart any of the goodness they’d shared, ruin their relationship. Only strain John and Jane’s relationship, too, damage their bond permanently.
It seemed to go through both of them, standing there in the hall as Liara had done with her friend earlier.
Breathing filled the space between them. They moved away from each other, watching the other carefully, knowing that it would be the worse action they could take, that for all their anger towards Jane, this would be unforgivable. Neither were the sorts of people that could hurt someone they loved that much.
If Jane wasn’t between them—it hung in the air.
“Goodnight, John.”
“Night Liara.”
This time, it didn’t take three tries to get into her room. One twist of the card key and then she could close the door, and just tried to keep breathing, even as she sunk to her knees like after that fight. He could have been in here with her, for ill or good, making her forget Jane for a little while. She could have done the same for him. Clumsily, Liara peeled off her armor and spent too long in the shower, afraid of what she was thinking about.
Boundaries. They could still be friends, so long as they remembered why and how they knew each other.
It rained, the next day, and they ended up discarding the museum idea to spend the day inside her room, watching bad holovids, and sitting on her bed. Both tried to play this entire thing off, talking too loudly and laughing too hard and trying to keep at least a foot of space between them. Guilty, for doing nothing, for wanting more. Avoiding touching each other was vital. It hurt, to look at him and want to lean in. Hurt not to.
She’d never been with a man before, that was for sure. Only Shepard using certain devices had even come close to being with a male. Jane had never been with one either, and using any memories of their meld would have been too much to handle.
Not that she was even seriously contemplating doing anything with John.
Liara wondered what her friends would say, if they saw them, what words of advice might help her when she had no idea how she felt toward either of the Shepards anymore. Warnings of playing with fire, asking if this was worth the heartache, wanting clarification for how this had all come to be. Aethyta would probably say go for it and send Jane a recording of it for sure.
The safest thing to do, was to go back and deal with Jane. Her Shepard. Stop noticing things like the lines of darker blue around his iris and the shape of his mouth and the length of his hands and the broadness of his shoulders. Things she would never have truly noticed, if not for the state she was in.
Revenge?
Oh, yes, this would definitely be revenge.
Even the way he was playing with the hamster as only Jane had been able to do was in its own way a petty way of getting back at her, Liara later noted.
Liara remembered Rannoch, and how the only shade to be fled into had bodies in it.
John had work with the Alliance at night, and was still suffering from jetlag. When she called him, he was just leaving the base and still wide awake. His voice was steady, friendly, eager to talk to his new companion.
She leaned against the wall, after having spent the entire night checking her messages. Spent it curled around Jane’s stolen shirt, trying to sleep. “Would you like to come up to my room?”
He paused, just the slightest weighing, testing, wondering what she wanted from him. If she wanted him. Whatever the hell this was. “Alright.”
They moved around each other in that room. Careful, judging every word and movement, and wondering what the other was thinking. It would be nothing, and everything, to act on this feeling that made her conscious of the feel of her armor, her gloves that she wore to keep from biting her fingernails, the way the cigarette felt in-between her lips. Sitting there on her bed, the fabric now its own temptation, watching the news of the war that had been over for so long now.
They fell asleep on her bed, and awoke together. Awoke right next to each other, looking into each other’s blue eyes. And frankly, Liara didn’t care how much this might have hurt Jane. She was lost, and knew that not doing anything had been the right decision. But it had been nice, to just sleep, and have someone near.
“I should go.” Coming from low in his throat.
“Yes. John. I’m sorry.”
“So am I. It’s for the best, that--”
“Yes, I know.”
When Hannah Shepard sent her a message, complaining about Jane having stolen her hovercar, about how she hadn’t contacted anyone in months, and how Hannah couldn’t even pin down what was going on with her younger child until just yesterday, Liara began to prepare for whatever end would finally occur.

Jane awoke half-immersed in the filling bathtub, sputtering and cold.
Instinct drove her upward, ignoring the pain from her battered body. The legs filled with fire and ants, the spine carved out of wood, her arms aching. Where the hell were her crutches?
She’d wanted to take a bath. That was all. That she would have sworn on stack of holy books from every race.
Right now, she didn’t want to die, and that was not all adrenaline talking.
I will die when I am good and ready, and it will not be in a bathtub.
Shepard crawled out, and felt little shame about doing so. Her pants, soaked black, she had to wrestle off her, and peeling off her shirt only caused more pain. The old scars looked fresh, despite how they’d faded to an ugly pink. Jane so rarely stared at them anymore. So rarely undressed and looked down on anything besides Liara. She kept going, kept removing all of her clothes.
It hurt, to think about her. To even hear her name in Shepard’s head, but it was a good hurt. Like putting antiseptic on a wound.
For her, she would keep going, as she’d told Liara.
She had to remind herself: I won. This pain means I am still alive.
There had been nothing when she’d been spaced, therefore anything was better.
They’d fallen over, her damn crutches, and it took faith and time to get to her feet. The new dents in the wall gave her a pause, and a funny sensation looking at them. Searching for a new place to stay up here in the northeast, and finding that one particular hell. She’d been in a much more playful mood, and there had been a hole set into a wall at the perfect height. Liara had claimed to find the whole thing disgusting, as she zipped her pants back up and stashed her favorite toy away.
Hung over, Shepard stumbled back into bed naked and curled up beneath the blankets.
The nightmares came back, as bad as when she’d been on the Normandy again, trying to find some way to bring the galaxy together. Worse than at her parent’s home. Worse than even the dreams she’d had when settling here, and waking up Liara from the sounds of her yelling and struggling beneath blankets. Forests of the dead that now held those that now gleamed in the shadows. ‘It was nothing. Don’t move. Just lay there.’ Refusing even a meld that might have calmed her, in exchange for simply watching Liara breathing and waiting for Jane’s orders.
Sometimes, the red light coming through the windows would scare her.
Still she stuck around this place, hoping that Liara would come back. There was no convenient clue left behind, a travel brochure hidden away for her. The ashes left in the tray besides the wiped-clean terminal might have meant something, but Shepard could no longer read that language.
Liara had claimed that she had felt a void when Jane had died, and that touching her again was enough to know that this was the real Shepard, come back. They’d had a connection that would transcend time, and even after she’d died, Liara would still have that imprint marking her.
Aethyta told her point-blank to fuck off. No amount of begging, literally begging, would move the asari Matriarch’s heart. “Maybe she’s better off without you?”
As Jane snorted back tears, horrified by all the emotion leaking out of her. “I know. But I think I can still make her happy. We used to be so happy, before I fucked it up.”
Hadn’t they?
Her sobbing was too pathetic to stand for long. And she would find a way to get ahold of Aethyta, even if it meant calling and bribing random people into going to asari space to pass notes. If there was one thing Shepard was still good at, it was being a pest. “She said she might be coming over to Thessia. But it could be months, kid. I think she might need time alone.”
While this shuddering mess responded with a pitiful, “But I need her.”
The most selfish thing she’d ever admitted to. Why would any father want to inflict this on her child?
At least Liara had gotten the courage to cut her off. To just grab her stuff and leave. She certainly had a quad, as Aethyta might have told Shepard.
The Matriarch also made sure to twist that knife by sending a holovid of Liara, young, and tiny, digging resolutely into the dirt. Benezia’s voice, not in the slightest bit upset at seeing her daughter messing up what looked to be an expensive outfit. The video focused only on the young asari, still armed even at that age, but with a shovel rather than a pistol. “What are you looking for?”
Liara hardly spared her mother a second look. “Treasure.”
“’Treasure’? What kind?”
“The shiny kind.”
Jane had to laugh, especially when Benezia joined in to help her struggling child. Holding up a rock. “Is this shiny enough?”
A resolute shake of that tiny head that had them both turning back to their work.
If only it had been a dirty message on how to win Liara back. But when she attempted to get Aethyta to mention doing such a thing, if she had any tips, her almost-father-in-law only sent back the message that if she didn’t know how to do that, Liara truly was better off.
Shepard watched the video, over and over again, hating that she’d gone out to buy liquor, hating herself for taking that first sip of terrible paint-thinner, hating that she could imagine Liara’s expression if she’d been here, and hating that she could so easily imagine that child on the screen as her daughter. The war had been over for months now, Liara could have been pregnant at this point, months and months ago. Another day would pass and another, and that would be one more day of having a child here, a little person that she could call her own and would in turn refer to her as ‘father.’
It would have been cruel to bring a child into their relationship at this point. Something she’d known as soon as her bondmate had even mentioned raising a baby, bringing life into this galaxy where so many others had died. To pretend that she was alright, that she could raise an infant would also have been miserable. How could Jane hold a kid and use her crutches at the same time? How could she love and provide for someone when she could hardly function herself without Liara? She was not insane, not at all still in denial about the state of their feelings for each other. Liara might still love her, and god knows Jane loved the asari, but that didn’t mean a whole lot ultimately.
What did it now matter that Shepard wanted a daughter? That she wanted that connection, a family, a bondmate, things for the future. A future.
I will drop to my knees and beg before her. There will either be more crying, or I’ll just sit there. But she will reach down and help me back up. I will stand without those crutches.
She left a message on her mom’s omni-tool, telling her where she could pick up her hovercar and that she was sorry about taking it. That little grasp of maturity was rewarded with Hannah Shepard informing Jane where John was, and who he’d discovered during his trip overseas courtesy of the Alliance to help with repairs. ‘At least someone got to finally meet your little ex-girlfriend.’
Of course her mother had to give Liara that title.
‘They seem to be hitting it off.’
Liara, with a Johnny, the little boy she’d saved from bullies and stuck up for when it came to their parents. John, who had become a mystery even before she’d gone to Basic, and who was ignoring her messages. John, tall and handsome and presumably alone. With Liara, who was on the rebound and also alone and lonely and probably vengeful.
A dumb animal pain that drove her into moving, feeling like cattle headed for the slaughterhouse.
When Shepard walked into the airport, everyone knew who she was, and that didn’t make her stomach curdle. Liara had only added to her bank account, as the credit system recovered, and she paid for a ticket, one-way, from a star-struck attendant. Her one bag was hardly checked over, and Jane remembered that she might still technically be a spectre. It had been months since having any contact with the Council.
Though it wasn’t like she was smuggling anything illegal across the border. Just one pathetic attempt, one stab at trying to live as she’d used to, again.
She’d never left the country as a tourist. It had been a long time since she’d felt like a civilian, despite what she carried and what she wanted back.
Either out of guilt, or some familial bond, or because she really did like Liara and want her as a daughter-in-law, Hannah managed to get a few more details from John. Since Jane still had not been able to get ahold of him.
Despite her growing agoraphobia, Jane managed to not get completely lost and had only a few mild panic attacks. She noticed only the sights in the most peripheral way. Fate was either kind, or particularly cruel that day to grant her the way to some tiny bistro and see that familiar blue head. Because it wasn't like Liara had been in hiding, it wasn't like she cared if Jane came after her--probably hadn't even suspected after all this time to see Shepard again, that Shepard would care enough to come after her. Just another tourist in a tourist place.
There should have been lightening to strike them both. Blood to pour from Shepard’s eyes, as she finally saw Liara. The ground to crack beneath them, and further divide them and cast them apart.
Instead, Liara didn’t even seem to notice the ghost behind her.
And Liara looked better than ever. Healthy, less thin, finding calm rather than becoming increasingly angry when she took in the familiar shape of the shadow falling across the table.
Shepard was disgusted by her own smile. She had no right to it, yet there it sat, stretching her tired face muscles. There was no mania behind it. It didn’t hurt either, to move so quickly using the crutches. “This is about the last place I would have thought to look for you.”
The blue eyes were only mildly curious. The world did not stop rotating on its axis, the galaxy did not implode; there was only the crushing feeling behind Shepard’s chest.
“My Mom told on you.”
Yes, those were what you said after being reacquainted with the love of your life.
“She did the same for you, Jane.”
“You’ve been in contact with her?”
“A little. John must have told her where I was.” Liara’s eyes were unblinking, unflinchingly blue.
“John?” Something terrible was beginning to gnaw into her gut. “He didn’t tell me anything about seeing you. I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
Only to Hannah had she spoken to lately. Hannah Shepard, who held cards close to her chest and was so good at twitching a finger and getting her children to do what she wanted. There was an awful stirring in those blue eyes. The blandness to her words. Why hadn’t John said anything to his own sister? How long had Liara been here, and with John? He wouldn’t have hurt her, unless perhaps he didn’t know, but no, Liara would not do that. An absurdity. Her little brother, that had always wanted to be a hero and follow his sister’s footsteps but was surely his own person who could no longer be threatened to stay away from her things with the threat of getting punched in the stomach anymore.
Liara was still silent. Eyes not dropping, and horribly patient as she waited, waited for what?
There should have been screaming, insults, throwing of their mugs. Why did you leave, why didn’t you contact me, why are you even here? What did you do, Liara?
After so long together, they didn’t need the meld to even exchange what they were thinking. They were practically married, and all married couples had their own secret language. This time, Jane was fluent in it.
Shepard didn’t understand what she’d said, until it was already passing her lips. “You and John have been spending time together. Good ole Johnny. Why the fuck are you not saying anything? Did you sleep with him, to spite me? Did you two screw? Would you say something?”
Her hand ached, and she had to pull her eyes away to realize she had pounded it against the table way too hard.
“I would not have done that. Perhaps I don’t care so much anymore about hurting your feelings, Jane.”
“What, you didn’t fuck him? Out of respect to John?”
“John was…you are doing him a disservice. He is a friend. He actually talked to me.”
“Yeah. He’s good at that. You just talked to him, that’s all? Kept your hands above the waist? Is that what happened?” Her face was hot, and there was pressure throbbing behind her eyes. “Thanks. For not fucking my own brother.”
There was fire blazing in those eyes. Biotics just behind them. In this state, Liara could literally murder her right here, and Jane wouldn’t even try to fight. “S-shut up, Shepard. You think you can tell me who I can and cannot be with? You lost that privilege, after months of not even contacting me. I had to find out from your own mother where you were. If you were even alive.”
“As though you didn’t skip town. Did you even try looking for me?”
Liara flinched, as though she’d been slapped. “Of course I did. You think I didn’t? What, what exactly did you think Jane, that I did not love you, that I was not terrified that you might have killed yourself?”
“’Did not.’ Is it alright if I sit down? Can I do that?”
I need to sit down. I need to leave. I should never have come here.
Her shoulders inside that white armor sagged, and she looked like the old Liara. Not the asari that had needed rescuing, not the information broker, but Jane’s poor love, the only person that could still stand her, hanging around their apartment and making sure that Shepard did not jump off the roof or slice an artery and bleed out in the kitchen. Reduced, and hurt. “Sit then.”
“Or better yet, let’s both stand up and go see my brother, huh? Have a happy reunion, and a long chat? Were you happy with him? Did he make you happy, Liara, did you go on long walks on the beach? Was it nice? Did he kiss you?”
It was like a scene from so many bad holovids that John and their Grandmother would watch. People were looking over, with simple curiosity. Now they would tear each other apart, with whatever tools they had, armed with knives of love, and jealousy, only wanting to hurt the other as much as they’d hurt themselves. Years together, storing up anger and resentment. Simply living together had created rules and boundaries to never be crossed.
Jane wanted to scream. You think you’re the only victim? You fucked off too. Did you think about fucking my own brother? Or was there someone else? Why did you say ‘didn’t’?
Shepard knew she looked ragged, worn out. Her eyes must have sunk into her head by several centimeters, and she felt as exhausted as her jeans and sweatshirt. A fucking mess, inside and out.
“We shared a bed. One night. Nothing happened.” There was no shame or guilt on her face. Only steadily offering this strange fact that Jane didn’t understand.
“Why?” Why are you telling me this? Why would you share a bed with him? My brother. Why my own brother? Is that why he avoided me, because he was trying to worm his way into your pants?
She wasn’t crying. That had passed. It seemed like there were no more tears to squeeze out, and that was a relief maybe. The old Jane Shepard would not have wept over this. Neither really needed to hear Liara say the answer.
“Tell me what to do.”
Liara was looking at her, Shepard knew. Even if Jane couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact.
“Just tell me what to do.”
##
Shepard awoke in darkness, and had to spend a few seconds remembering where she was. In France. Or all fucking places.
When she sat up, got up, she could imagine how she looked. Tired and pale and worn down. It was too dark and she was too alone for anyone to see any of her scars dotting and tracing her body. There had been a time not long ago where that would have comforted by that.
Now, she pulled off the clothes she’d worn yesterday and had fallen unconscious in. Her bag left by the desk, untouched until now.
The shot she took to her arm hardly hurt. Nor did the ones to her legs either.
It was good that one of us had the dignity and respect to finally leave. That Jane could agree with, if not the pity in those blue eyes. ‘You were so strong, Shepard, to actually leave. Maybe you don’t realize that. But you were.’
‘Does that mean I should just fuck off now? Leave you to your European vacation?’ To my brother?
Making a scene, in the perfect Hollywood way. She’d never wooed back a lover, from the arms of anyone. Let alone her goddamn brother that was waiting at the Alliance base miles away from the hotel Liara was staying at. Fuck John; the entire galaxy that would be glad to have her.
Jane had never tried to fight back to get a lover back at all, from anything.
‘Do you want to leave, Shepard? Or do I have to spend ten years watching you slowly waste away? I do not care if I live to for a thousand years, I will not wait to witness that.’
And Jane couldn’t and didn’t want to make her go through that.
‘I cannot tell you what to do. I am tired of watching you hurt yourself. I am tired of never talking to you about your problems.’
The pattern of her injuries spelling out what she’d done. This scar on her shoulder from the geth. The one on her arm from being fractured so badly from that last fight. A back that had nails driven into it, perhaps literally. These ones on her legs below the knee, from the blisters, the burns that had driven sanity from that—no, her, from her when she’d laid on that bed with tubes everywhere and saw only the white ceiling and blue eyes. Scars from implants that had healed, then reopened. It looked like she’d been torn apart and sewed back together. She looked like the truth of everything that had happened to her.
You can’t throttle down your depression and rage. This is only a stop-gap.
“But I will get better.” That she promised to more than just herself, but to her family, to her friends, lost or still living, and even more to her bondmate that she’d let down enough.
The polite goodbye, we will talk again tomorrow, it is good to see you, a touch to her shoulders and a lingering look. Had Liara expected Jane to follow her, and bug her, plead again for another chance?
No mania. Only the hard knowledge of what had to be done. Shepard nodded to her own failings, of her flaws and could only vow to do better in the future. She wasn’t sure even after her death, even after telling Liara what she’d remembered, if there was any higher power exactly, but if there was, she hoped it still had her back if it ever had.
In her armor, hair hacked to its usual length, she didn’t look too thin or pathetic to be Commander Jane Shepard. She didn’t bother with the helmet. That was a mockery, a lie, to what she was now.
This is my face. This is me. Shepard grinned at her expression, at the strong grin and the simple raw fearlessness in her eyes. Older, and a little more fucked up, but still the person that had defeated the Reapers, that had shaken the fuckers out of the galaxy and saved the day. Jane watched her grin become wider, as she did her best to embrace that woman she’d been. That person that the galaxy turned to look for a savior.
And had she not risen to that challenge, and done her duty again?
Hurt wasn’t the same thing as broken. Pain wasn’t defeat.
“I am Commander Jane Shepard, spectre, N7, member of the Alliance. Bondmate to Liara T’Soni. I am the Breaker of the Reaper Cycle. I will not just let anything else leave. I will not just wait to die.”
‘This is the same argument we have been having since you woke up. Do you realize that?’
Halfway to the room, she finally threw the damn crutches aside, and was almost amused at how even then they didn’t break and only waited patiently for her return.
It was right before dawn when Shepard broke down the door in one good, satisfying crunch of metal and wood. Sparks literally flying, though thankfully nothing caught on fire. Though that wouldn’t have even given this Jane a single pause. Not even her relief over seeing Liara alone, sitting up in that bed, trying to stand and fumble for the gun on her nightstand.
It was nothing to shoot it away from her. To leap at her, before biotics could go off. She practically fell on Liara to grab her wrists, wrenching her arms to the side. There was power in Jane’s upper body, solid, especially after using those crutches for so long. Liara seemed to snap to who this person was, what she was doing, and settled for glares and less struggling.
Shepard pulled Liara into her arms, like the bride she should have been already.
“Where are you even taking me?”
“To whatever those fuckers left of the Eiffel Tower.”
“This has to hurt you.”
“Stims.” The same thing Liara had used, to keep herself going during those long hours on the Normandy.
“Shepard, put me down. Use your crutches. You are limping.” The long fingers touching her breastplate, the N7 insignia. “You cannot make it all that way. Jane.”
“Let’s see. Can we just find out if I can or not? Can we just see?”
“Yes. Shepard—“
“What?”
She was looking at Jane, seeing what, Shepard didn’t know. Her hands were on the Commander’s shoulders. “If you need help. I am here. Do you understand?”
“I’m alright.”
“Are we?”
“I don’t know. Yes. I’m going to try, Liara. I don’t know if you’re still willing to hang around and watch me attempt to get my life in order. I don’t—fuck. I don’t want to be miserable anymore. I especially am sick of making you miserable.” Shepard pulled Liara a little closer, enjoying despite everything the way her bondmate clung to her. Trusting her. “I want to try living again, doing what we’d planned and starting a family and trying to be happy. Is that it? Have I covered all the bases? I’m still a mess, and I know it, and I’m not sure why you’d take me back.”
Shepard dug into her pocket, pulling at the lighter that seemed to have traveled a ridiculous distance to be here. She could feel the warmth of the metal, rather than the pain in her back and legs.
Liara took the lighter, looking at it like she’d never seen one before. “Because I love you, Shepard. And I am glad you’re here.”
Shepard couldn’t even remember the last time they’d kissed, but knew it hadn’t been this gentle. And Liara hadn’t looked at her without anger or pity from that blue gaze for much longer. “What took you so long, Commander?”
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An Argument, A Seperation