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Liara T’soni hated her apartment on Illium. The large windows, the tacky expensive furniture. Even her once-treasured Prothean relics she had on display. She hated its near-sterile cleanliness. The austerity of it. She hated the way it reminded her of Benezia in all the bad ways, of being alone in their Armali estate while her mother, the light of her life, travelled the stars attending to some business or another. She hated the fish tank, the cold and empty bed. She hated it all.
Liara could perfectly recall her thought process when she’d made the decision to purchase the property: yes, this is the perfect place to be miserable. This is the perfect place to be without Shepard. It had been a foolish act of grief, like all her other foolish acts of grief which ranged from trifling to severe. It certainly hadn't made it any easier to move on.
Now it simply was a part of her life, though one she by and large avoided. She’d wake up there, leave almost immediately, and come home late only to fall asleep. She spent as little time there as possible.
At first, Liara would battle insomnia and think about the captain’s quarters on the Normandy, how it was full of life and love and Charley Shepard. She’d eventually moved up there officially, sometime after the defeat of Saren, by way of transferring her small pack of belongings into Shepard’s bottom drawer. I emptied that for you, Shepard had said proudly. They had both ignored the fact that storage on a military vessel is limited and Shepard had a lot of socks that needed the space a lot more direly than Liara’s tiny bag did.
Liara had always lived a minimalist lifestyle; clutter bothered her and she simply didn’t feel the need to possess many material things. Not like her mother, with her many dresses and suits and jewellery and costly traditional headpieces. Not like Shepard, with her socks and trinkets and collectibles.
Liara just had her Prothean artefacts, her certificates— kept around as symbols of her own achievements, to remind her she wasn’t as useless as she occasionally thought. And in her bedside table drawer were Shepard’s dog tags. Well. Not anymore. Those were back where they belonged now. Finally.
Liara breathed.
She cast a final derisive glance at her Illium apartment, at the neat stack of boxes which were all the things she was moving to her new home. The enormous empty station floating above the storm-wracked surface of Hagalaz wasn't a great deal homier than this hated apartment but— she had Shepard back. She was the new Shadow Broker and she had held Shepard in her arms and true unlimited power at her fingertips. Somehow, Liara knew that it would be better.
“You ready?” Goddess. She’d heard that so many times, strapping on her armour in the Normandy’s hold. And it sent things through her that Liara wasn’t sure she had a name for.
Shepard strolled in, wearing civilian clothes— a black shirt tucked into pants. She looked strange in them. Far removed from the woman on the news vids. Still beautiful, though. And still Liara’s. Still firmly tethered to the ground. Liara smiled.
“Yes, I'm just—”
“I get it,” Shepard said, kindly. “Saying goodbye. Bet you have a lot of memories here.”
“Not really. I hated this apartment.”
"Really? I think it’s nice." Shepard moved to the centre of it, put her hands on her hips as she looked around appraisingly. "Real fancy. I’d have thought this was a palace back when I lived on Earth."
Liara sighed, looking at her hands. “It’s not that. It’s fine.”
“Then what is it?” Shepard approached, gently detangled her fingers, held her hands. Dark brown against light blue. Liara had always loved the sight of their hands together.
“I bought it not that long after... you know, the Normandy went down,” Liara said. One side-effect of seeing Shepard again was that she suddenly felt much younger. Losing the love of her life had forced her to grow up considerably, to become tougher and wiser and colder. To become what she’d seen in Benezia. Now she almost felt as shy and fumbling and foolish as the day she’d stepped onto the Normandy. All the careful layers of strength she’d cloaked herself with during her tenure in Illium’s information business— gone. That was what Shepard could do.
Shepard frowned, not understanding. Liara almost laughed. She understood so little of how she made others feel for a woman so wise.
“It just... always felt a little lonely here. Without you. That's all.” Liara felt her fingers tremble as if in fear that Shepard would be snatched from them again. “I’m... so glad to have you back, Shepard.”
“I’m glad too, Liara,” Shepard said. Her mouth had twisted like it always did when she was concerned about something. Liara kissed her, gently. Not a proper kiss, just a brush of lips against lips.
“Alright, come on,” Shepard said, giving her a soft smile. “If you hate it here, then let’s leave. And not look back. How does dinner at one of Nos Astra’s most expensive restaurants sound?”
“Lovely. Thank you, Shepard.” Liara swallowed the urge to cry. “Let me just find something to wear, I—”
“Take your time,” Shepard said understandingly. She sat at the kitchen table, and Liara went upstairs.
In one of the boxes was the dress she was looking for; floor length as per the current Asari fashion and shimmery silver. Liara undressed quickly, rolling her favourite scented powder onto her skin. And that was when it became too much. Tossing the dress aside, she sat down on her bed and let herself sob silently, twice, into the palm. Being with Shepard again brought it all to the surface again, what she'd tried so hard to repress all this time— the devastation of losing her, of being alone in an emptier galaxy. No matter what, Liara could not go through it again. She couldn’t waste away in this horrible little apartment for another two years. She could not lose Shepard again. And she would make sure of that. As the Shadow Broker, and as Liara T’Soni, the weak and terrified little girl who loved archaeology a bit too much. Liara breathed, wiped at her eyes, pulled on her dress. And she rejoined Shepard in the kitchen.
“Hello,” Shepard said, getting to her feet. “You look beautiful.”
Liara felt her skin heat. “Thank you, Shepard. Shall we go?”
Shepard looked at her like she was so lucky to have her. How could Liara possibly explain that she was the lucky one, that it was an incredible thing that Shepard had ever looked her way in the first place? And an even more incredible thing that the universe had given her a second chance? She almost wanted to cry again, but she was stronger than that now. Crying was useless. The only thing that mattered was the knowledge that Liara would tear the universe apart before losing Shepard again.
“Let’s go,” she agreed, taking Shepard’s arm, wrapping her fingers around almost possessively. Just in case she decided to float away from her again.