Chapter Text
November, 2186 CE. SSV Normandy.
“So,” Shepard says one evening, leaning back against her fish tank with a smile, “Should I be worried about that doctor on the Citadel?”
“Hm?” Kaidan looks up from the datapad he’s been reading on the couch and smiles back as soon as he catches her face. It’s got nothing to do with her words; she’s backlit with blue light, and for a moment he’s so caught up in her that he doesn’t really register what it is she’s saying.
She crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow, though it’s clearly playful. “You know, that message you sent me after our little rendezvous on Horizon?”
The smile slips.
“Oh, that.”
Her smile falters too, and she pushes off from the fish tank to cross over to him. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I mean, I know I was… well.”
Dead. That’s the part he’d rather not talk about.
She kneels down next to him, lacing her fingers through his free hand. “If there was ever… you know I’d want you to be happy, right? I’d want you to be happy.”
“Shepard,” he squeezes her hand, setting the datapad down so he can give her his full attention. “I know.”
Her expression is so focused when she looks at him, every piece of who she is channeled into that gaze, open and unrelenting. She couldn’t be anything but herself if she tried. And right now, she’s his.
“I love you,” he says, “Whatever comes… we’ll bend the rules of life to keep this. Already done it once.”
She brings their joined hands up to her face, tucks them under her chin, eyes glittering. “I hear you. So… mission intel seems to suggest said doctor is most definitely not a threat?”
“Honestly, I barely even remember her,” Kaidan lies.
September, 2183 CE. Thessia.
Shepard is six months in the grave when he’s sent out to Thessia in hopes of securing asari buy-in for an expansion of the Ascension Project. The Alliance has been shuttling him around on one-off missions ever since he got cleared for active duty again, slapping him with a promotion and then never letting him settle too long in a single place. He knows they’re just keeping him busy so he doesn’t get the chance to cry Reaper too loudly in the vicinity of anyone important, and maybe six months ago he would’ve cared enough to do something about it. Not anymore.
He hasn’t made much of an effort to keep up with the SR-1 crew — especially not since Joker left the Alliance — though it’s not because he doesn’t want to. It’s just that Kaidan knows himself well enough at this point to understand that he’d already crossed far too many lines on the Normandy, moreso than he’d ever expected himself to, and if he wants any chance at returning to a life of normalcy (if that’s even possible after what he’s seen), it’s best he keeps some distance.
It’s hard enough with the Battle of the Citadel following him around like a ghost, always the first question hiding behind the lips of any soldier he meets. You served with Commander Shepard? You were there when she drove that tank through the relay? When she saved the Destiny Ascension?
When she died?
They never ask that last one, but it lingers unspoken regardless, a permanent coda in the crescendo of Shepard’s life. Yes, he was there for all of it — for Ilos, for the Citadel, for Alchera — but what none of them know is the way he was there for Shepard, and the way she was there for him.
They’d had a memorial for her, but he’d never quite been able to bury the piece of himself that died over Alchera too.
So, if his temporary squadmates whisper about him being standoffish, he doesn’t fault them. He’s learned that it’s better this way, that regulations exist for a reason, and he’s not about to make the same mistake twice.
This mission is the first time he’s been to Thessia, so he spends some time wandering about the port to get his bearings once they first dock. One of the engineers on board tries to rally him to join a group of them headed towards a bar, but he politely declines. Instead, he takes the solitude in stride, taking in the view of the asari architecture from a more reserved location just off the spaceport.
He’s only been there a few moments, lingering too deeply in unwelcome thoughts, when someone rests a hand on his shoulder. “Kaidan?”
He turns, startled, and at first he’s certain that the face he sees before him is just a flashback come to life, a trick of the mind meant for psych evals and mandated therapy. But then she speaks, and it’s that same measured tone he’d grown used to on the Normandy, and he lets his tension dissipate.
“I apologize if I frightened you,” Liara says hurriedly, taking a step back. “It was not my intention.”
“No, it’s not that,” he shakes his head, reorienting himself and mustering up a smile. “I just didn’t expect… well, it’s good to see you, Liara.”
Her face brightens, and she clasps her hands in front of her, ever the picture of poise. “And you, Commander.”
It sounds strange, to hear the title coming from her, knowing who it brings to mind for both of them. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes after she says it, and Kaidan wonders if perhaps she’s been avoiding the reality of Shepard’s death as much as he has. But that’s not exactly small talk.
He rubs at the back of his neck. “You heard about that?”
“I hear about most things.” She regards him slowly, gaze sweeping across his face. “I will admit, I heard you would be arriving here. And… I had hoped we might cross paths.”
Kaidan raises an eyebrow. “Did you have something in mind?”
“No, I just… I thought it might be nice to talk to you.” She looks almost embarrassed, as if admitting this is far out of her comfort zone. “To be with someone who… understands, for a change.”
God — she’d lost so much this year, more than most. Shepard, her mother, her home on the Normandy. Had he even tried to reach out to her after what happened? Those first few weeks are still such a blur.
“Yeah, Liara,” His smile meets his eyes this time. “I’d like that.”
They walk together, Liara leading the way through the streets off of the port, their path aimless and leisurely. All this time avoiding his past on the SR-1, and Kaidan is surprised to find how easy it is to be with her. Like slipping back into old habits, but the kind that never should’ve been broken in the first place.
She talks of her research, excitement in her eyes as she walks him through her last publication, a major piece of work based on their data from Ilos. He tells her about his role in the Alliance’s newest biotic initiatives. They tiptoe around Shepard for a while, make a few jokes about their time on the Normandy, but Kaidan is the first to finally say her name.
“You remember that mission on the asteroid where Shepard drove the Mako straight up a vertical cliff? I thought Tali was going to throw up in her suit and we’d all have to head back to the ship early.”
It slips out so naturally, he doesn’t even notice. It just seems right, with Liara here, because Shepard had been the one that brought them together — first on Therum, and now, once more.
“All so she could tune the radios to that horrible elevator music.” Liara laughs. “I’ve never seen Garrus dismantle a piece of tech so quickly.”
“He really took one for the team when he offered to maintain the Mako. Bet he regretted that decision every time she climbed behind the wheel.” Kaidan smiles at the memory, and even as the grief wells up behind his eyes, there’s a comfort in knowing Liara feels it too.
After a pause, she says simply, “I miss her.”
Kaidan can only nod, swallowing against the emotion in his throat.
“We are lucky to have known her not just as a symbol, but as a person. As a friend.” Liara smiles wistfully, looking up at the sky for a moment. “What a gift to be a part of her memory.”
It’s a welcome change to be around someone who feels the weight of Shepard’s loss as acutely as he does. It lingers in every part of their conversation, yet somehow it makes him feel lighter, as if sharing the burden of it is enough to ease a bit of the pain.
He turns to Liara with a furrow in his brow. “I should’ve reached out to you earlier. You, Tali, Garrus, all our ground team, I should’ve…”
Liara rests a hand on his arm, expression soft. “You do not need to explain yourself to me, Kaidan. She leaves behind a terrible emptiness, does she not?”
He lets out a long, slow breath. “That she does.”
They let the silence settle in between them. In another lifetime, Shepard would’ve filled it.
“You planning to stick around on Thessia for a while?” He asks. “I’d assume whatever Prothean stuff is here, it’s already been analyzed right back into the ground.”
She laughs at that, a soft sound that sets him at ease. “I’ve been… branching out, actually. There are other avenues that are more advantageous for me at the moment.”
“Well, wherever you end up next… don’t be a stranger, okay?”
She tilts her head, confused. “A human idiom?”
“Ah, right.” Kaidan runs a hand through his hair. “Stay in touch. Keep connected. That sort of thing.”
When she looks at him, he has the uncanny sense that she sees right through him, straight to his broken heart. Or maybe it’s just that she’s been there, too.
“Yes,” she says, “Do not be a stranger.”
---
November, 2183 CE. Arcturus.
It’s easier than he expected, not being strangers.
He pings Liara a week after their meeting on Thessia to ask a question about a matriarch they’re vetting as a biotic mentor, and her swift reply comes with an earnest query about his day. If he fills her in on his comings and goings with a bit too much detail, she doesn’t complain; her messages come back just as long and just as filled with further questions, until one night he finally calls her on his private comm channel to make the back and forth easier. They talk for two hours straight.
He'd always appreciated Liara on the Normandy, valued her even-keeled assessments of their predicaments, especially as an equalizing contrast to Shepard’s rash judgement calls. Plus, it had been nice to have another biotic around, even if the asari approach to dark energy differs. If anyone had asked him the nature of their relationship back then, he would’ve called her a trusted colleague, or maybe an ally on the field.
Now, he finds that she’s become a friend. Perhaps one of the few he has.
He’s called to Arcturus once the Alliance finally decides to let him back into the fold, even though he knows that if he asked, they would deny he’d ever been out of it. Whatever penance he’d been paying for his association with Shepard seems to have satisfied them for now. It’s a sigh of relief to feel useful again; he hadn’t realized how much of a stasis he’d been in without routine to cling to, and a real assignment feels like finally moving forward.
He tells Liara about it on a vidcall the night before he ships out, and she perks up as soon as she hears him mention the station. “Arcturus? How long will you be there?”
“Not sure,” he answers, “They didn’t give me a timeline. Didn’t give me much of anything, honestly. I’m supposed to meet up with my new team and get briefed on our orders there.”
She looks to her left, just off-screen, and he can hear her typing something out on her keyboard. “If you’re still there in five days, our schedules might overlap.”
“You’re going to be on Arcturus?” It’s the best news he’s had since the Alliance call. “Why?”
“Why does anyone go to Arcturus?” she answers. “I am meeting someone there. I have… information that they require.”
“Cryptic work stuff. I get it.” He smiles. “I’ll let you know if I’m around then, okay? It’d be nice to see you.”
“Well, you are seeing me right now.”
He laughs. “You know what I mean. In person.”
“Only if that is something you would enjoy,” she adds quickly. “You’ll probably be busy.”
“With Alliance bureaucracy the way it is? I doubt that. Besides, I mean it. I don’t have much of a social life — might be nice to have something I can actually look forward to.”
She seems to relax a bit at that, lips curving up in a smile. “I feel the same. It has been difficult to make time for leisure. But I would be happy to make time for you.”
Unfortunately, there’s little time for anything outside of work once he arrives on Arcturus. He’s surprised at the docks by Admiral Hackett, waiting for him to disembark, and he barely has a second to salute before the Admiral has him whisked off to a meeting room filled with enough brass to have him worried.
“Sir?” Kaidan says, before the occupants fully settle in. “Is something wrong?”
“On the contrary,” Hackett replies, “We’re finally getting something right.”
This ‘something’ is a pilot program, and they want him to lead it — an all-biotic spec ops squad. Probationary, to start with, and definitively under-the-radar until they can showcase enough success to warrant full funding (and internal support) for a platoon. The plan is to spend two weeks on Arcturus assembling the team, then load up on a frigate headed to the Terminus Systems.
In one hour, Kaidan’s gone from outcast to golden boy.
“Looking forward to your recommendations, Commander,” One of the Generals says to him on his way out, “You’ve done great work with Ascension.”
He leaves the meeting with his head spinning and a datapad full of potential soldiers to review, each one fresh-faced and brimming with dark energy. They’re all too young to have been at BAaT, and as he flips through file after file, he wonders if any of them know just how much blood their path here has been paved with.
He barely leaves his bunk for the first few days, just pours over profiles and pops out every few hours to grab food. They’ve put him on a tight schedule to make selections, and he definitely falls asleep on a screen more than a few times, but in the end he manages to rank and submit his top candidates before the end of the week. Hackett makes a point of stopping by in person a few times to lend his assistance, and even slips him a note of congratulations from Councilor Anderson on one occasion.
It’s unspoken, but Kaidan knows they share more than just a military bond. If looking out for him is their way of keeping Shepard’s memory alive, he won’t question it.
Once the recommendations are in, he finally has a bit of time to breathe. After a real rest (with a pillow, this time), a sit-down meal, and a brief update call to his parents, he finally settles in to catch up on the messages piling up in his omnitool.
The first one he reads is from Liara, and then he doesn’t bother with the rest of them.
She meets him at one of the observation overlooks closer to the residential part of the station where she’s staying. It’s crowded, more crowded than Kaidan remembers Arcturus being, and the liveliness of the families there is a stark contrast to the vast silence of space stretching out from behind the glass.
There aren’t many other species on the station, so Liara stands out immediately in the crowd. It doesn’t seem to bother her, but there are certainly more than a few inquisitive looks from passersby and one or two aggressively pointing children. She merely smiles, demure, at the additional attention, although Kaidan can’t help but be chagrined.
“Sorry,” he says, after one particularly unavoidable stare. “Humans aren’t the most discreet.”
“On the contrary, I understand the curiosity.” Liara leans against the walkway railing, arms folded atop it. “When I first came on board the Normandy, you will recall I had spent very little time with your kind. It is quite fascinating to observe another race.”
“I always forget you’re not that familiar with humans, in the grand scheme of things.” Kaidan looks out at the stars, themselves a reminder of the galaxy’s immeasurable variety, living or otherwise. “You’re a natural now. I’d never know.”
She shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but he can tell by the quirk of her lips that the compliment pleases her. “Asari are not so dissimilar.”
“You haven’t been to Earth either then, have you?”
“I’ve only seen it from Luna,” she says. “You remember, when we disabled the rogue VI? It is a beautiful planet. The native fauna seem particularly interesting, from what I’ve observed through nature vids.”
Kaidan laughs. “Only you would use the phrase ‘native fauna.’ But, yeah. It’s a hell of a place.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Everyone misses home, don’t they?” He shrugs. “Although I suppose Earth makes itself easy to miss.”
“I think I’d like to go sometime,” she says, mouth twisted in thought. “I have always wanted to see a giraffe.”
Kaidan can’t help but laugh at that, even when she fixes a look of mock reproach on him. “Well, can’t promise the weather will be nice, but if you ever drop by Vancouver, I’ll take you to the zoo and check it off your list.”
“Vancouver. That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?” At his nod, she continues. “What is it like?”
“Coastal. Lots of cloudy days, lots of rain, lots of fog. But green, too, filled with trees and fresh air and this gorgeous mountain range that looks over the city.” He smiles wistfully. “I’ve been to a lot of places, a lot of planets, but the way those mountains look all covered with snow… it’s something else.”
She smiles too, looking back out at the view beyond. He wonders if she’s thinking of Thessia, her own home. Although, he doesn’t quite know exactly where (or what) Liara considers home.
She speaks again before he can ask. “Is it your favorite destination on Earth?”
“I don’t know about favorite, but…” he shrugs, “my family’s there.”
“Do you see them often? I know humans tend to maintain strong bonds with their families well past what we would consider your maiden stage.”
Strong bonds. Maybe not the best turn of phrase for him. He does what he can to keep up his relationship with his parents, but there’s a lot left to be desired — from both sides. He huffs out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be the person to ask about human family norms.”
She seems a bit taken aback by his response. “Why not?”
“I spent a most of my teenage years on Jump Zero being trained to kill. Not the best way to maintain bonds.” It comes out sounding more bitter than he’d like.
Liara’s brows knit together. “Because of your biotics?”
Something about the way she asks makes him want to tell her. Maybe it’s that she can understand, that she knows the way it feels to twist gravity itself in your fingers. Maybe it’s just that she genuinely cares.
Few people do.
So he talks — about Rahna, about Vyrnnus, about all the broken bones and bloody noses and black eyes. About waking up to a hole in his head filled with experimental tech, watching it drain the life out of his friends and wondering every day if he’d be next. All that time they’d spent convincing him to be a weapon, only to turn around and shun him once he finally was.
Liara listens so attentively it makes it difficult to gloss over the details, and he finds himself feeling seen in a way he’s not sure he’s altogether ready to be. When he’s finished, she leans her chin on her hand and looks out at the distance for a long moment, thinking.
“Thank you,” she finally says. “It’s very meaningful, that you would share this with me.”
A hint of a smile curves at his lips. She continues before he can think of what to say in response. “You are… a very disciplined biotic. I have not encountered many biotics from the other races, but from what I am told, it is difficult for a species outside of asari to maintain the level of control you have.” She shifts her position to face him, almost studying him. “Many would turn away from discipline in the face of such mistreatment. It speaks well of you that you do not.”
His cheeks flush under the intensity of her gaze. “I didn’t know you noticed things like that.”
“It’s not so much something I notice. I can feel it.” She flicks her wrist, a curl of biotic blue blooming across her palm as she does so. “Everyone’s touch on dark energy speaks differently.”
He supposes he’s never quite paid attention to it in combat before, what with all his focus directed towards self-preservation, but as the blue corona floats atop Liara’s fingers, there’s a hum under his skin. It prickles at the back of his neck, like the same wash of energy that sends shivers down your spine.
It’s hard to explain, but it does feel like Liara; it carries her same even, measured presence, the soft touch of her voice.
She smiles knowingly. “Do you feel it too?”
“Huh.” He lifts his eyes to her face. “All that time at brain camp, they never thought about teaching us to just… be still.”
“Much of the asari training is built on meditation. It’s a powerful tool, often overlooked.” She snaps her fingers and the glow is gone just as quickly as it’d appeared. “You seem to have mastered its teaching through sheer force of will alone.”
Those eyes. Like she sees things within him even he doesn’t know about. Her next words are unexpected: “You are just as impressive as she was, Kaidan. I hope you know this.”
He’s not sure how to respond to something like that. He’s not sure he believes it. “Thank you. But… I don’t know. Hard to hold a candle to Shepard.”
“Yes.” She looks pensive. “It’s… rather embarrassing to think on now, but I suppose I was very taken with her when we first met. As you know, I had never spent so much time with a human before, much less one like her.”
Kaidan laughs. “I think everyone who meets Shepard is a little bit in love with her.”
“So it would seem,” Liara says. “And yet, she was only ever in love with you.”
The phrase gives him pause. He thinks of Shepard, standing in the light of her cabin door that night before Ilos, a note of vulnerability in her features that she’d never let slip through before. The way she’d linger at his terminal long past what was expected of a CO, just listening to him talk. The sparkle in her eyes every time she’d shoot him a teasing comment that toed the line of flirtation a bit too closely. Her hands on his neck when she’d kissed him for the first time.
“Big word,” he says.
“Love?” Liara tilts her head. “I suppose there are cultural norms to its usage with humans.”
“It’s… not something we say to just everyone, yeah.”
“Was it something you said with her?”
He knows she doesn’t mean anything by the question — she’s curious, and she has a right to be. Still, he has to swallow around the emotion in his throat before he can answer. “Ah… no. We hadn’t… taken that step yet.”
“I see.” Liara regards him for a moment. “Nevertheless, even if she did not speak it aloud, I saw it. In her mind. You were there more than you know.”
He can’t tell if that knowledge gives him peace or pain. “I was?”
She nods. “It... fascinated me. I confess there was a part of me that wanted to understand what set you apart to her. We did not know each other so well back then, you and I, and there seemed to be a great many people vying for her attention, yet she never wavered from you. I wondered, if I could see you through the lens of her mind, maybe it would make sense.”
Sheepishly, he asks, “And did it? Make sense?”
“Yes, eventually.” She turns back towards the vista of stars. “Though, not because of Shepard.”
“I… I always thought your meld was more of a fact-finding mission than an emotional deep dive.”
“It was, but…” Her brow furrows in thought. “It is difficult to explain when you have not experienced it. Asari have a modicum of control during the meld, and we are able to limit what is shared if we so choose. With humans, there’s no use for a skill like this, so your minds aren’t trained to be anything but open.”
She smiles, a faraway look in her eyes. “I find it somewhat poignant. Perhaps a reflection of the brevity of your experience in comparison with that of ours. Humans find such deep meaning in even the mundane.”
He’s quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. “Never thought of it that way.”
Her smile wavers and falls. “I… I hope that comment does not offend you.”
Kaidan shakes his head. “No, not at all. Just a bit weird to think about one’s own ‘brevity,’ I guess.”
“Yes,” Liara says softly, “And of hers.”
Shepard in the doorway. Shepard with her mouth pressed to his. Shepard shouting her final orders across the burning bridge of the Normandy.
He breathes in, slowly. “Is it harder for you, with her… being in your head?”
“In a way. She feels present, though I know she is not. It makes it difficult to accept the loss for what it is.”
Kaidan watches her fidget with her hands, and feels the sudden urge to reach out to her, remind her that she’s not alone. Shepard’s in his head too, though not quite as viscerally, and he’s still not sure what parts of her he’s ready to let go of.
“Is it always like that with the melds? A piece of them left within you?”
“I never…” Liara pauses, presses her fingers to her lips. It’s a few seconds before she speaks again, and when she does, her voice is much softer. “Outside of family, Shepard was the only person I ever shared that with.”
“Oh.” He’s not sure why he finds that surprising, given how reserved Liara’s been during the time he’s known her, but it’s not the answer he expected. “I guess, I just assumed…”
“A century means much less to an asari,” she says. “You must think me very learned, but in truth I am quite young. Only just a maiden.”
Kaidan’s lip quirks up in a half-smile. “You must think I’m incredibly juvenile then.”
“No.” Liara turns her gaze to him, eyes deep with resonance. For a moment, he almost thinks that it is some sort of mind-meld, such is the openness of her emotion. He feels it threading through his thoughts all the same. “I would not think that of you.”
She studies him, and he tries to parse together the pieces of her into a portrait he can make sense of. He remembers her — wide-eyed on Therum, shaking on Noveria — and now, standing before him with a grace that has been tempered in the same forge of pain he is all too familiar with.
“I think you are strong,” she says, and as the words leave her lips, she lifts her hand to his face. “I think you are compassionate, and kind, in the face of a world that is anything but. I admire it, that you draw your strength from love instead of hatred. I admire you, Kaidan Alenko.”
Her skin is surprisingly soft, fingers tracing slowly down his jaw with an almost reverent quality. When she pulls away, it’s calculated, measured — not so much a hasty evac as a tactical retreat.
“Liara,” he says, and it comes out hushed like a whisper.
“I will let you know when I return to Citadel space,” she replies, stepping backwards, closed off once again. “Be well, Commander.”
---
December, 2183 CE. SSV Manzikert.
“So, the man traverses the planet within a single revolution of the sun, but still among the atmosphere? And yet he has time to stop at every house, regardless of security at points of entry?” Liara’s face is scrunched up in thought on the other side of the vidcall, her brow furrowed in a way Kaidan finds particularly endearing.
“Yup.” He’s trying and failing to hold in his smile. Has been for the past few minutes, while he busies himself running diagnostics on his hardsuit. “And don’t forget he’s also carrying all the presents.”
This perplexes her even further. “Altering mass is one thing, but the volume alone… you said he transports them in a carriage?”
“Sleigh.”
“I must say, I do not understand why anyone would take such a legend as fact. Even a child.” She leans her chin in her hand. “Did you believe in this man?”
“Oh, absolutely. We all did. Kinda hard to argue against the guy bringing you gifts every year.”
This clearly isn’t the answer she’d been expecting. “Even taking into account his scientific improbability?”
“I think you’re giving human children way too much credit.”
It’s the middle of the night on the ship, hence his relative solitude in the armory. He’d tried to get to sleep at a reasonable hour, but insomnia coupled with the nagging inefficiency of lying awake in a sleeper pod when he could instead be standing awake calibrating his armor had caught up to him. After two cups of (decaf) coffee and thirty minutes of explaining Christmas to a befuddled asari, he’s ended up here.
“I dislike this man,” Liara finally declares, lips pursed. “I prefer the tradition with the trees.”
Kaidan chuckles. “You’re not alone in that. Listen, you come to Vancouver next year, we can go see the light displays in the forests outside the city. You’d love it. That far out, there’s almost no light pollution, and if you look up it feels like you’re right in the middle of the Milky Way.”
“And we can try hot chocolate, too?”
“You don’t have to wait for Christmas for that. I can make you hot chocolate next time I see you.” He keys a program into his omnitool to scan the medical exoskeleton. While it runs, he looks back up at her image. “You seriously never had hot chocolate on the Normandy?”
“No, but I believe I did have cold chocolate, if they are similar.”
“Pretty sure that was ice cream.”
Liara glances to her left, at one of the computer monitors she’s surrounded herself with. He tries not to pry about her broker work, just as she doesn’t ask too much about whatever Alliance assignment he’s on, but he can’t help worrying from time to time. Out of all the careers in the galaxy, hers is certainly not one of the safest. Although, to be fair, neither is his.
“You good?” he asks, when he looks back up to see her frowning offscreen. She rubs her forehead, turning back to him with a rueful smile.
“Just an… unwanted message. An inconvenience, really. Don’t concern yourself with it; you know I’d tell you if there was anything truly bothering me.”
“I know.” He smiles back, hoping to ease a bit of her tension. “But you can tell me the small things too, if you want. I like hearing them.”
A hint of lavender tints her cheeks, and she glances down at her hands. “These moments — talking with you — they are the bright spots in my days. I wish not to tarnish them with unpleasant things.”
“Could’ve mentioned that sooner,” Kaidan says, setting down the medigel dispenser he’d been inspecting. “God knows I’ve told you all manner of unpleasant things.”
“They aren’t unpleasant when you are the one sharing them.”
He tilts his head, watching her gaze flicker back to his. “What makes you think it’s any different for me when it comes to your unpleasant things?”
She fidgets, and seeing her so off-guard is a rare thing indeed. “Well. I suppose… I had not considered that.”
“For being a scientist,” Kaidan adds, his smile much more of a smirk now, “you do tend to be a bit obtuse about the things right in front of you.”
Liara huffs. “I’m an archaeologist, not a detective.”
He laughs, raising an eyebrow at her. “So you need to be a detective to figure me out?”
She studies him, resting her chin in the palm of her hand again. The intensity of her gaze makes his cheeks hot, even from lightyears away. “Perhaps. Archaeological practices are more hands-on. It’s about getting to hold something so precious, something connected to another point in time, and deciphering its context. I can’t imagine it would be the same through a screen. The connection isn’t the same.”
Kaidan busies himself running the same diagnostic he’d run earlier, pretending it’s something new as an excuse to look away from the vid. “I don’t know, I think we do alright.”
She’s quiet for so long that he almost hazards a glance back up at her, worried he’s crossed a line, but then her voice comes back through the call with its familiar warmth. “You said the trees are like the Milky Way?”
“The lights are. Looks like stars when it’s all you can see.”
He finally lifts his gaze back to hers, and if he’d thought meeting her eyes was intense before, the way she’s looking at him now proves that wrong.
He runs the test again.
“I would love to visit Earth with you sometime,” she says softly. “To see your home.”
“You’re always welcome, Liara. Standing invitation.”
“And when I see you again, you’ll make hot chocolate for us?”
“Well, you are seeing me right now,” he teases. His omnitool pings, displaying the same results from the two diagnostics before it, the data blinking as if to say don’t you dare run this shit again, Alenko.
She smiles. “I mean in the archaeological sense.”
He gives up on the pretense of his armor — she has to know by now that he hasn’t accomplished a damn thing since they started talking. Instead, he leans against the table he’s been working at and turns his full attention to her image on the screen. She’s biting the edge of her lip now, that same lavender flush high on her cheekbones.
“Hands-on?” he hazards, echoing her words from earlier.
“Something like that, yes.”
“You know…” He resists the urge to fiddle with his hardsuit again, keeps his gaze steady on her. “I want — I mean… they’re bright spots for me, too. Talking with you.” He takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. “And… you, in general.”
If only she weren’t a projection of the real thing. The brightness of her smile can’t be captured in a vid.
“It’s late where you are,” she says. “You should try and get some sleep. We will speak again soon, and until then… I will think of you.”
“Right, you’re right.” He looks at the mess he’s made of his armor, and the thought of putting it all back in his locker is enough to make him antsy for bed. “Thanks for talking. I’ll… I’ll think of you, too.”
“Goodnight,” she tells him, and when the image flickers out, he closes his eyes and breathes out slow.