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Summary:

Liam checks up on Scott Ryder, who’s still bedridden in the Hyperion medbay.

Chapter Text

Liam had thought Andromeda would be different. But apparently hurtling 600 years and countless miles through space isn’t enough to make the hole in his chest disappear.

He doesn’t have time to think about it, at first. With Hyperion hitting the Scourge, disastrous first contact, and Alec Ryder’s death, he throws himself into what he does best: crisis management. Helping the new Pathfinder set up colonies and bring in resources. Making connections on the Nexus and Aya. Getting folks out of cryo. Bridging cultural differences and patching up misunderstandings as best he can.

After the adrenaline wears off, though, Liam can’t avoid the uncomfortable truth. He’s galaxies away from anyone who cares about him, and honestly, not even sure that the Initiative will survive. Many nights, he cries himself to sleep, remembering everyone he left behind. He wakes in bleary confusion, thinking he’s home on the Citadel but not recognizing the walls around him.

And then something funny happens: little by little, he starts to enjoy it. Cruising alien worlds in the Nomad with Ryder, trading snarky banter with Jaal and Vetra, playing cards with Peebee and Gil. It’s far from perfect, but it begins to feel more solid. Not quite like HUSTL, but a similar freewheeling camaraderie that reminds him why he was game for this adventure in the first place. It’s a spectacular new galaxy, and he aches for someone to share it with.

Gil notices first. “Chin up, Kosta! Now that repopulation’s under way, we’ll find someone desperate enough to sleep with you eventually.”

“That’s rich, mate, coming from a guy who hopped straight into bed with the shadiest lowlife in the galaxy.”

“You’re just jealous that another man is enjoying my charms,” Gil smirks. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you doing shirtless pull-ups outside the engine room.”

“Well, SOMEBODY needs to appreciate these glorious abs,” Liam retorts with mock haughtiness.

Gil guffaws. “You’re not wrong.” He claps Liam on the back as he turns to go. “One piece of advice? Don’t tell Ryder you’re looking. I’m STILL getting rambling emails from that tech on the Nexus she tried to set me up with.”

Jaal is next. It happens as they’re sparring one day, Liam demonstrating judo throws and Muay Thai holds while Jaal teaches him comparable angaran techniques. Liam’s pinned on the mat between his friend’s hardened thighs when Jaal goes for the kill. “Liam,” he says bluntly, dark eyes sparkling, “I hear that you are searching for a romantic partner.”

Dammit, Gil. “Yeah?” Liam responds cheekily, trying to wiggle out of the submission. “You offering?”

“I have considered it,” Jaal replies, cocking his head and fixing Liam with a searching gaze. “But you know, I am sure, that I am with Ryder. And I understand that many humans value monogamy.”

Liam feels his face, and other parts he’d rather not consider, burn. “Uh, thanks, mate. I suppose we do.”

“However, I would be happy to introduce you to my cousins, when you visit our home on Havarl.”

Liam laughs awkwardly. “Not sure that’ll work out, Jaal. I appreciate the enthusiasm, though.”

He ends the workout with the longest, coldest shower his Tempest water ration allows, all the while trying in vain not to picture unfairly muscular aliens. And how it feels to be at one’s mercy.

He’s completely blindsided by Cora. “I know someone you’d hit it off with,” she muses as he helps her add compost to the seedlings in the bio lab.

“God, you too,” Liam groans. “Does Gil ever shut up?”

Cora grins wryly. “Not that I’m aware of, no.” She turns dirt between her fingers, releasing a rich, loamy smell into the recycled air of the lab. “Don’t get huffy on me, Kosta, it’s not a date. It’s... more of a favor. You’d be helping me out.”

Liam sighs. “Alright, Harper, let’s hear it.”

“I promised Alec before we left that I’d keep an eye on his kids. In case anything happened to him.”

“I mean... isn’t that what we’re doing? On a daily basis?”

“Oh, Ryder’s alright. She’s got Jaal and Lexi and all of us here on the Tempest. But Scott could use some company. A friend.”

Liam is silent for a moment. “Why me?”

Cora hesitates. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but... I know you’ve had a tough time here.”

“Haven’t we all?” Liam retorts defensively.

“Obviously. You seem to be doing better now, though. And I know you’re a good listener.” Cora turns, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re closer to Scott’s age than me, you both spent time living on the Citadel and working in the military—“

“HUSTL wasn’t—“

“Whatever, close enough. I think you’ve got a lot in common. And that might be a good thing for both of you.”

Liam shrugs. “Why not? I’ll stop by next time we visit the Nexus.”

——————

Liam can pick Scott out from across the room. Scott’s sitting up at the head of his bed, engaged in heated conversation with Dr. Harry Carlyle. The way the young marine frowns and gnaws his lower lip while thinking of his next argument, and the terse, measured staccato of his voice when he’s furious: dead ringer for Ryder. Spooky.

Liam’s been on enough missions with the Pathfinder to recognize that he might be walking straight into a storm. But he’s come this far, no sense in turning back.

“...to be stuck in this bed like, like, some kind of INVALID. There’s no medical reason why I can’t be in the field RIGHT NOW.”

Carlyle bears the young man’s tirade with typical imperturbable bedside manner. When Scott pauses, he responds mildly. “I’ve known you for a long time, Scott. And when your test results back up that bravado, we’ll talk about moving to the next phase of your treatment.”

As Carlyle leaves, Scott turns his cold fury on Liam. “Well? Sis too busy to check in on me herself? Or did you just come to watch the show?” He crosses his arms, and fixes Liam with a defiant glare.

The effect is... striking. Liam searches the room for help. He’s here to make a connection with, and possibly comfort, Ryder’s twin brother. Alec’s son. Not to ogle Scott’s perfectly formed biceps and stormy blue eyes. “I’m Liam,” he manages, thrusting his hand into the empty space between them. “Or you can call me Kosta. You must be Scott.”

Scott eyes Liam’s outstretched hand warily, not letting his guard down. “I know. Read your file before they fridged us. What do you want?”

Liam laughes, letting his arm drop to his side. “Honestly? Cold beer and a bad turian action movie. A shower in water that hasn’t been recycled and purified from the Tempest toilet. Those weird little dumpling things that the elcor food carts sold in Zakera Ward until C-Sec shut them down.” He pauses, indulging in momentary nostalgia before looking Scott square in the eye. “Or we could just hang out and chat. If that’s alright with you.”

Scott’s gaze has softened. “Why?” he asks, but the defiance is already fading.

Maybe it’s because he resembles Ryder, and Liam’s learned to trust Ryder with his life. Maybe it’s because the way Scott’s looking at him is turning his insides to jelly. Maybe he’s just tired. But Liam lets it spill. “Because I’m lonely, mate. And I could use a friend.”

Scott glances away, mulling this new information. “You swear my sister didn’t send you?”

Well. Honesty’s gotten him this far. “Harper, actually. Cards on the table, I’m pretty sure she’s trying to set us up.”

That gets a belly laugh from Scott, and Liam marvels at the change. There are soft creases at the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks almost GLOW. The timbre of his voice is richer, warmer, when he speaks again. “So why is Cora trying to set you up with me, exactly?”

There’s his opening. “It’s all Gil’s fault. Long story. Hey, I don’t suppose that Carlyle would let you have a beer in here?” He’d genuinely meant to check, until the doctor’s brisk exit.

Scott winks, and Liam’s officially a goner. “What Harry doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Now, you’ve got a story to tell!”

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