A/N: A couple of people requested that I try another one of these three viewpoint stories. This one has quite a different tone to the first one, so I'll be interested to see what you guys think. (Well, I'm always interested in that, but you get my drift, no?) Initially, this was going to be EDI's chapter in Call to Arms, but sometimes a tale just won't go where I want it to... M for ladies sexytimes, so if that's not your cup of tea, nothing to see here (or in the next two chapters). Bioware owns the characters, I'm just taking them out for a bit of fun.

Shepard

It's late.

Shepard can't sleep.

Rest is eluding her for the third night running. Since the moment they dropped out of the relay right into the middle of the resurgent Morning War, it's felt to the commander as though there's barely been a second to catch their breath. And action begets action, as bloody usual, the inevitable cosmic domino effect; achieve one objective, have a new one take its place. Find the quarians. Save the quarians. Infiltrate the geth dreadnought. Shut down the Reaper control signal. Rescue Legion. Escape from disintegrating ship...

Star-dappled darkness all around. Fingers numb from the cold, chest burning from trying to breathe air that isn't there. HUD alarm wailing, shrieking uselessly. Terror, panic flaring briefly, then smothered under the weight of the dark pressing down. Choking, I can't, I can't...I...

A sharp crack shatters the moment.

Shepard starts, gasping for air as she shakes the memory clear. I got out, I got out, it's OK, she reminds herself, sucking in deep lungfuls of air to slow her suddenly racing heart. Going EVA to get to the dreadnought had taken every last ounce of her willpower and a reassuring comm feed from Liara, and the awful moment in the fighter bay when the gantry had given way and tossed her into open space had snapped the last threads of her grip on her fear. She wasn't embarrassed to admit she'd screamed, her cries scraping her throat raw in the insulated coffin of her hardsuit until Legion had snatched her back to the deck. How she'd managed not to swing for Admiral Gerrel in the war room, her face still streaked with tears of fury and fear, is still something of a mystery to her.

Swallowing to clear her mouth of the sudden taste of copper, Shepard continues to stare, gritty-eyed and thick-headed, out of the cockpit's forward windows, watching the blue-white energy discharges rippling across the ship's hull. It's a soothing sight, one that reminds her of her childhood, falling asleep in the flickering blue light beneath a viewport. That same view in her cabin, though Cerberus could never have known it, is one of the reasons she's come to love this ship, to think of it, more than any other, as her home.

She has the space to herself; Joker is off-shift, with EDI at the helm, her mobile platform recharging in the AI core. She's closed the doors to the bridge to permit solitude, a private space in which to try and regroup. On nights like this, and they are becoming ever more frequent, her beloved cabin is a trial, claustrophobic with the knowledge that restorative slumber will not come, kept at bay by the constant litany of plans, strategies, and reported facts. And below the spinning gearwheels of conscious thought, she is laden with dread at the nightmares that will come with sleep, stripping away any restful benefit as she writhes under the subconscious lash of her guilt, suffocates beneath the mass of the casualties, the damage, the grief. The boy from Vancouver waits for her, and she's sick of the sight of him.

Her only respite is the calm that Liara's presence brings, and even that is short-lived. While holding Liara close as she falls asleep has a definite comforting effect, the peace no longer lasts. She's become used to Liara being there, but as the night lengthens and her subconscious takes hold, as the nightmares drive her to thrash and scream, and then she wakens to toss and turn in agitation for the remainder of the night, she knows she's keeping her lover awake, denying both of them the rest they sorely need. Liara reassures her that she does not mind, but she can see the toll it takes on the asari's already slender supply of sleep. And evenings when they manage to go to bed together are becoming ever more rare - between the bridge shifts, Liara's data feeds, the meetings and the responsibilities of leading the crew, there are days where they hardly see one another except for stolen moments. Worse, with Liara off the roster for shore parties, there's a hole in Shepard's preferred ground team makeup, a constant irritation at expecting Liara's solid support and refined biotic style and finding Javik's sneering, vengeful rage at her shoulder instead. Yeah, a little voice murmurs, it's tough being you, ain't it? Moping like a little kid because you're up past your bedtime and having bad dreams, and you can't go play with your girlfriend. Grow the fuck up - plenty of people out there are far worse off.

Grimacing, Shepard rubs her hands across her face and leans forward to brace her weight against the upper hull, resting her head against her forearms. Her skull feels too small for her brain, her pulse throbbing at her temples. She checks the chrono on the main helm interface and winces. Oh-three-seventeen, or oh-Christ-hundred hours as Ash invariably refers to such times in the mid-watch, her dislike of early rises profaning even her respect for her god. Four hours or so till Shepard has to meet Chakwas - the doc is going to strip the paint from her hull if she shows up to that without having gone to bed. And she'll be right to. I just have to find the willpower to resist the idea of her knocking me out. There's too much to do for me to sleep all day.

She looks down, notices the slowly expanding pool of thick brown liquid oozing from under the cracked pieces of a mug on the deck. "Shit," she breathes. She has no recollection of dropping her hot chocolate. Good thing it was already cold, she muses, seeing the stains soaking into her combats where the impact splashed her. She should be irritated by the waste of the drink, a precious ration that isn't easy to resupply, but she can't muster anything more than bemused curiosity as she watches the puddle spread.

The door behind her hisses open, but before she can react a pair of slim blue arms encircle her waist, drawing her back against the soft curves of a warm body. A familiar perfume teases her nose. A kiss brushes the side of her neck, and a chin comes to rest on her shoulder. A soft, beloved voice speaks. "You can't sleep?"

"Backatcha," Shepard parries with a smile, twisting to kiss Liara's cheek. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I should be," Liara agrees, squeezing Shepard, "but I found there's something missing from my bed."

Shepard tenses, resisting Liara's attempt to draw her into a closer hold. "You won't get any sleep if I'm there."

Liara's teeth nip mischievously at her ear. "Your confidence has always been alluring, Commander," the asari murmurs huskily.

"Shit," Shepard croaks as a spark of heat flares down her spine in response to both the touch and the sultry warmth of Liara's voice. God, but she could lose herself just listening to the asari talk. "I, uh, didn't mean that the way it came out. You're injured, and..."

"I'm healing," Liara rebuts, tightening her hold. "I have one more therapy session with Chakwas tomorrow, then one more day of light duty. I don't imagine a little extra exercise would do any serious damage at this point." The asari's hands shift, tugging Shepard's shirt from the waistband of her pants so that she can slide her palms against the human's stomach. "I miss you," she whispers. "I feel like I've hardly seen you since we left Lessus."

"You needed to recover," Shepard reminds her, though her resolve to continue keeping her distance is being sorely tested by the wandering of Liara's questing fingers, across her abdomen, up to the hem of her bra, down to her waistband.

"Well," Liara purrs seductively, "now I need something else." She kisses Shepard's neck again, her breath hot and provocative. Her hand cups one of Shepard's breasts, squeezing lightly, and Shepard groans, half in pleasure, half in frustration, letting her head fall back against Liara's shoulder. She'd like nothing more than to go along with Liara's wordless request to make love, but...

"I can't."

The confession slips out before she can catch it, and Liara's hands and lips halt, frozen in place by what sounds like a rejection. There's a moment of silent stillness, then Liara begins her caresses again. "You can't what?" she asks playfully, tweaking Shepard's nipple to punctuate her question.

"I'm sorry, Liara," Shepard whispers, sighing. "I'm so tired. I can barely think, and my head feels like someone's been using it for an anvil. I'd love to make love to you, I really would, but..." Shit, this has to be a new low, being too tired to take Liara to bed. Her eyes sting with tears at the admission, the failure, testament to the frayed state of her emotions.

Liara removes her hands, wrapping her arms tightly around Shepard's shoulders in a comforting hug. "I don't need you to make love to me, Rachel," she replies, her voice strong, soothing, assured. "I just need you to be near me. I want you with me, even when you can't sleep, even when you have nightmares. Especially then." She nuzzles closer, places a cool kiss upon Shepard's throbbing temple. "I'm here for you, my love. Don't shut me out when you need me."

Shepard rolls her head forward till her chin touches her chest, and sucks in a long breath, thankful for the depth of Liara's compassion and care. "I need you," she admits. "I can't unwind, can't relax. I just need to stop thinking, but I've got no energy to even do brainless exercise."

Liara moves to step round her, and she throws out an arm to block the asari's route as she notices her bare feet. "Careful. I dropped my drink - the shards are probably sharp." She studies the broken mug again. "I should clean that up."

Liara steps to the opposite side, skirting Shepard and dropping into the pilot's seat. Raising her knees, she lets her legs fall apart and pats the seat between them. "It will keep. Come sit with me," she invites. "We can never actually let you drive the Normandy, you understand - for safety's sake - but now's your chance to pretend."

Shepard laughs. She's never going to live that cab trip on Illium down, and yet somehow, she doesn't mind in the slightest. "I promise not to touch the steering wheel," she retorts as she follows Liara's lead, settling between the asari's outstretched legs and leaning back. "Joker would kill me if I messed with anything." Liara's arms snake around her waist and hug her close.

"Kiss me," Liara requests, and Shepard gladly complies, turning her head and meeting her lover's silk-soft lips with own. Liara's hand strays up to cup her cheek. Shepard deepens the kiss as she feels Liara's mouth open beneath hers, feels the asari's tongue nudging possessively at her lips. The contact is thrilling yet familiar, a much needed reminder that no matter what, they have each other, that she is not alone. Sighing contentedly, Shepard breaks the kiss and settles against her beloved.

Liara's hands dip beneath her shirt again, stroking her stomach lightly, setting a calming rhythm in time with the steady ripples of energy over the hull. "EDI," she says suddenly. "Lock the door and shut off your sensors in this compartment, please."

"Complying," the AI acknowledges.

"Liara, what..."

"Shhh, it's all right. I just don't want anyone barging in and disturbing you," Liara soothes her, pressing a kiss to her neck, right at the spot where she knows Shepard is sensitive. The commander shivers, a pleasant, warming sensation of mild arousal spreading from the contact. She closes her eyes, lets herself drift, but is brought back to the moment abruptly when the catch on her pants pops open, and Liara's fingers insinuate themselves beneath her underwear.

"Li!" she gasps, tensing with shock, then stifling a moan as the asari strokes between her legs teasingly. "Oh, God."

Liara kisses her neck again, scraping her teeth gently against the Spectre's skin as she picks up a slow, gentle cadence. "Relax, Rachel," she urges tenderly. "Let me take care of you. You need to stop thinking, so stop thinking. Just feel." Her mouth trails down Shepard's neck to her collar, heated nips and kisses that leave a trail of tingling skin in their wake. The asari's free hand is splayed across her abdomen, anchoring her. Her clever fingers work over Shepard's sex, familiar with their task, rousing her slowly and steadily, cranking the coil of tension deep inside inexorably tighter and tighter. Somewhere in the far distance, a rational part of her mind is calling a warning, that the cockpit is not either of their quarters, that it's wildly inappropriate to even think about getting to second base in such a public part of the ship, but the caution lacks the activation energy to overcome the pleasure Liara's touch is evoking. Another part of her can't quite believe that Liara has initiated such a bold course, but she's really, in the end, too overwhelmed to analyse it. Closing her eyes, she decides to obey Liara's instruction, relaxing into the moment. A blissful warmth is radiating from where Liara's hand rests on her abdomen, a warmth stoked by the asari's deft caresses between her thighs, the touch neither teasing nor too direct, fingers sliding easily, sensuously, over her increasingly wet, heated flesh. Shepard groans softly; it's been a while since she felt this good.

"I love you, Liara," she breathes, arching back into the asari and allowing her legs to fall as far apart as she can, stating without words that she trusts her lover implicitly.

Liara nuzzles into her neck. "I love you too, Rachel," she returns, her voice vibrant with emotion. "Goddess, I am blessed that you are mine."

"Ditto," Shepard agrees, tensing as Liara's hand slips lower, as the asari slides two fingers inside her. "You, ah...are the best thing... ohhhh... that ever happened to me." Her hips jerk involuntarily as Liara drives her fingers deeper, and the asari tightens her hold, swivelling her palm till the fingers of her restraining hand can take up the abandoned measure against the bud of Shepard's sex, a sly counterpoint to the slow beat of her thrusts.

"You're so beautiful," Liara whispers. "And I love that you trust me this much, that you'll let me so deep inside your defences, that you are not afraid to show me your cares and your fears." She kisses her way back up Shepard's neck to her ear. "Let me in, Rachel. Embrace eternity!"

Shepard relaxes, and Liara slides effortlessly into her mind, her radiant presence making the commander feel as though she's just jumped into a pool of sunshine. God, I love this. You make me feel better just by joining me, she throws out, and she can feel Liara smile.

I know. I feel it, too. I... A sudden thread of dismay weaves its way into Liara's thoughts. Goddess, I knew you were tired, but this... oh, Rachel.

It's OK, sweetheart, Shepard tries to reassure her. Being here with you makes it OK. It's already having an effect, her cares and worries evaporating in the blazing intensity of Liara's emotions. Drifting within them, Shepard can feel Liara's love, more completely than words could express, and her own emotions swell in response, breaking the dam the delineates her own consciousness. Deeper, Li, she manages to plead. Help me forget.

I will. Distantly, Shepard senses the physical impetus as Liara increases the pace of her ministrations; within the meld, pleasure crescendos across their shared awareness, amplifying as it echoes between the human's physical reaction and the asari's empathic joy in bringing such delight to her lover. Let go, my love, Liara's voice commands, and Shepard willingly surrenders. Her climax is a gentle thing, a subtle release of tension that suffuses her with satisfaction and well-being, blending with the joy of being held and cherished by Liara, body and mind. The asari's emotions reverberate with similar gratification; no physical release, but pleasure at having brought her overtired, overtaxed beloved some respite from her cares.

Overcome with sudden, irresistible lassitude, Shepard lets herself sink deeper into the protective cocoon of Liara's mind as her body sags into Liara's arms. M'tired, Li, she whispers.

I know. Sleep, my love. I'm here.

G'night.

Liara's thought drifts in from very far away. Goodnight, Rachel. Sweet dreams.