Chapter Text
Sometimes we let our burdens,
things we thought impossible to overcome,
heighten the weight of our footsteps. Changing directions to an immeasurable void,
unable to break free. But I take Sabriel's quote as an awakening:
"Does the walker choose the path, or the path choose the walker?"
I am Liara T'Soni. Encumbered. Enamored. Engaged.
It was a night to forget...well, in Shepard's place, and the heavens were downright mocking him. Her luna-cy, a cosmic chandelier, was mischievously grinning down the rich mosaic binding the gardens of Villa Pastor. She floated above a particularly busted tile, who was scowling at her incandescent streams. With his feet bouncing up and down the soil, Shepard fervently waited for the crescent glow to cascade far beyond the black horizon, keenly wishing it to fade like the vexatious Cheshire cat. He doubted the celestials for putting him in this bothersome scene, but the moon continued to glow. Her children, a backdrop of sparkling diamonds, were inconveniently joining in the fun.
Shepard sucked in a mouthful of air, a hand sheltering his door, as he turned his gaze to the lavish, opulent meal on his table. Although the hickory smoked baby back ribs was smothered in stout glaze, he had scantily touched his meal, even pushing the plate along with the starchy mashed potatoes, and the thick unadorned fries. The mass clattering of knives and forks hastily caught his attention. The guests were all too engrossed on consuming the savory banquet. He was hungry alright, but the pressure tumbling on his mind made him utterly dissatisfied for not having the appetite of a ravenous dog.
He lifted the arm on his left to read the metal strap attached to his wrist, a widget of arms telling him it had hardly passed a minute. He groaned "Just three more hours. Just three more agonizing hours, and then it's over." Shepard said, mumbling. Rapidly, but unconsciously, Shepard began to bite his lips...twiddle his thumbs...play with his hair...tug his cloth-
Ting, ting, ting. Donovan Shepard, general, father, and homophobic extraordinaire startled his only son as he rose from his seat, a glass in hand, his noble presence signaling the audience to the same.
"I may have married late..." The old man scratched his silver stubble "...but I sure made a hell of a bachelor." His deep wrinkles couldn't hide the smirk, nor his wink, framed by thick grey eyebrows. The effort made the echo of laughter burst around the grand reception like wildfire. Shepard seemed to voice the tiniest, a fake laugh, in the thriving mass of anonymous figures.
"That may have been the reason why Hannah and I only had one child." he chuckled. "I am just so proud. Proud that my son has become a man." Shepard gulped.
"Proud that he is ready to wed..." Shepard wheezed, and Liara turned her head with an eyebrow raised.
"...and perhaps...anxiously proud..." His eyes turned to Shepard "...to see my future grandchildren early." That was it. Shepard coughed hard. He tried to clear his throat and swiftly regain composure, but a hundred pairs of white blobs were already tearing into his skin like fingernails. It made his back itch, and it was impossible to reach.
"John?" Liara tried to ask, concerned, patting his back. "I'm fine...it's just the wine." he jerked his head away.
Liara furrowed her brows. "But we haven't started drinking..."
"Uhh..." he looked at the ceiling. "...I m...may have swallowed a fly..." there was a raise of shoulders.
"A fly?" she quirked her head in a particular way.
"Huff. Guess I'm just nervous...I'm just not ready to become...a father." He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask the apprehension.
Liara smiled. It worked. "I am too..." He returned the smile...lightly.
"To Jonathan Christopher H. Shepard!" Donovan held a glass of wine in one hand, slowly setting it above his head. The crowd followed soon thereafter "To John!"
Shepard slightly tucked his chin, and stared at the effervescent alcohol in his hand. The bursting bubbles mimicked his instability, oh how he wished to come out, but Donovan Shepard was proud. He had to maintain the acceptance. The honor. So, he swallowed it all down...like the rest of his identity, hiding in the closet.
Howls of chatter were starting to make Shepard uneasy.
"The man is downright beautiful. I mean com'on, have you ever seen such a strong face." echoed to his right.
"...and those deep blue eyes.." echoed to his left.
"What a tight vest..." His head sank...
"Liara sure hit the lottery." ...lower.
"I heard he took down Grunt." ENOUGH. If only. If only they knew who they were dealing with. Who he really was. Would the praises still endure? Would the respect still linger? The battle churning in his guts just won't stop. He stood abruptly from his chair ignoring the bewildered faces of Liara and company.
"I...I need some air..." he parted, losing his tone.
"Sure." came her quick reply. "He's a bit nervous..." she acknowledged the crowd. "...about all this." she said lifting her arms.
Shepard grunted as he hurriedly escaped the guests, he hated all this. It was a fool's errand. The hypocrisy. The deceit. He was sighing as he gripped for the edge of the buffet table. An aroma of grilled steak sandwiches might of calmed Shepard, but he knew he was still bothered and ashamed. All his life he was looked up upon. He was the breadwinner hanging over the edge of his father. How could someone so kind, caring, gentle and stunning as Liara...want him as his husband to be? A gay man. There was no love for Liara, and he realized it from the very beginning. The only love he truly desired departed.
"Where is he?" he muttered.
"He promised. Where...is K-"
"Shepard." A hand firmly gripped the back of his shoulder, taking him out of his trance. Quickly, his head turned to rough golden hair and glinting grey eyes.
"You look dissappointed, didn't ya miss me?" he called out.
"Vakarian!" he barked a laugh.
"There's no need for formalities! Come 'ere!" Garrus pulled Shepard into a tight hug. Two years. That was the last time he saw his best friend leave for the Citadel, positioning as chief of police. Garrus Vakarian may be stern with his gun, but he is quite ludicrous with his antics. His arms packed a punch back in the day, now, with a physique much more muscular, he could already feel the strength of his embrace. Was it wrong to think that he was enveloping the heat to someone else? To touch the dark curly hair? To smell the...
"..aa..Shepard...you can release me now." he uttered a breath. Shepard didn't notice he was cuddling Garrus's neck for at least a minute. He hastily tried to pull away, face pinked.
"Uhh...sorry about that...guess I did miss you that much..." Shepard said, eyes darting towards the side.
Garrus cackled. "Well it's been way to long time since I remembered your ugly face." Shepard snorted.
"Fuck off, Garrus. Your still the same wacky old dude who-"
"Zip it. I know what you're going to say and we promised to never speak of it again. But really, you look like you need a break. Is the party making your bones wiggle?"
John lowered his gaze "That's an understatement." Garrus raised a brow. "Yeah, yeah...sigh...I'm a total wreck." He leaned his back on the wall, hands on pockets. "The engagement is bugging me." Garrus crossed his arms over his chest.
"Shepard, tell me, what's really going on?" Garrus leaned beside him. Shepard knew he couldn't lie to his best friend, no matter how he trusted him or how he tried dodging the bullet. It was a risk losing...another close companion. Garrus was still observant. There was no twitch, inhale, or pulse he wouldn't sense, and that made him a great police chief. University was a time when Garrus suspected that the geometry professor was the one who stole Dean Kahlee Sander's collection of...poles. He was right of course, but the way he found it out still sent chills to Shepard's spine. They promised to never speak of it again.
"Garrus, there are some things better off-" Shepard stopped, eyes widening at the man waiting for him at the gates.
"Excuse me...I should go..." he was already five meters away when he pardoned himself. He didn't hear Garrus's response as he started walking briskly. The bald man's suit may have made the tie and peaked lapels around his chocolate brown skin dapper, but Shepard was clearly not impressed. Steve Cortez anticipated the tautness and the two automatically headed to the corner of the street.
"Steve, what the hell are you doing here?" Shepard waved his arms around, panicked. "Get out before everyone sees you!" The pain carved onto Steve's features made Shepard feel like a jerk, but he was jerk. A dirty lying jerk, but the thought of Steve pronouncing his...identity...just made him shiver, and he wouldn't allow that to happen, not when everything was finally turning out right. Right?
"Shepard!" He pleaded, eyes reddening. "Liara doesn't deserve to be with someone who is not committed!" he grasped Shepard's vest, bundling the cloth so tightly in his fists that Shepard had to gasp.
"I can be committed." he rigidly wrapped his hands around Steve's elbows. "I can love her just like how every straight guy can. I can show you that your...kind...this thing...is just an illusion, an abnormality." He was stammering, despite hardening his words.
"This isn't a disease Shepard!" Steve shook him firmly, and Shepard has to wince as he begged "Sooner or later, this fantasy of yours won't last!" Steve pierces his eyes right through him. "You can't hide forever!"
Shepard heightened his voice saying "I have family...an obliga-!"
"You are 25 goddamn years old! Steve shook him again "You're too young to marry! You can be a free man, a free gay m-!
"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST UNDERSTAND?!" Shepard cut him off harshly, shouting, making the hair on Steve's skin hike. "My mother might get disappointed, but my father, HE'LL NEVER welcome who I am, he...he'll...probably disown me, throw me out just like-"
"...what my family did to me?!". For a moment, Shepard was speechless. He had almost forgotten that Steve had faced more dire situations that he could ever struggle. "Of course I UNDERSTAND!" he yelled.
"I understand the pain. I understand the fear. I understand the consequences." Steve's voice was cracking by the minute. "I understand the turmoil bumbling in your head!" he lost it. "It will all turn out better if you start admitting the truth right now!" Shepard lowered his head, contemplating.
"My family called me last week and they regretted everything." Steve tried to persuade, to no avail. He unthinkingly started caressing his supple cheek, lifting his chin.
"My family is different...we have a standing..." Shepard reasoned, voice wavering. "I...I..I'll be the laughingstock of the town...the General's...g..gay son..."
"...and yet, you were willing to risk everything for him." The allusive comment made Shepard cringe. Steve intently stared at him, and It all happened too quickly. He lunged for Shepard's mouth, brushing the top of his lips. Steve's fingers were winding up his hair. All the muscles on Shepard's face went slack, and his lips, turned spongy and loose. He tried to return the kiss by closing his eyes, imagining the man he used to embrace. It hurt. Shepard pushed Steve away, his brunt strength knocking him to the ground.
"It's still him isn't it?" Shepard couldn't bare face him, so he pivoted on his good foot, still acting poised, his breath shallow.
Steve started laughing as he tried to get off the road, but tears were already pouring against his cheeks. "After all this time?" he asked, hoarse, rubbing the dirt from his shoulders. What he didn't expect was a glimmer of something so small, dropping near the base of Shepard's shoes.
"It pains me to know th...that I may have been just a...a ragged doll. Stuffed for comfort." he was slowly breaking. "I hope you get out of this...whatever this is...'coz I'll try to find my own happiness...with someone else..." Shepard placed a palm on his forehead.
"If he ever returns, I wish him good luck. Please, don't try to break his heart." A silence. A long silence.
Shepard slowly turned around to find the road to nothingness.
"What's all the racket about?!" called Donovan. He was stomping towards Shepard, a grimace planted on his face. "We heard shouting!" Liara was following him behind.
"Nothing." he drew back, swiping the tears from his cheeks. "Some...madman drove like he was the king of the road. Splashed some water on my face."
"...and you had the courage to berate him? Did you kick his ass?" his father asked gleefully. Like the knowledge of fighting on the road was something to pride on.
"Yeah..." Liara sensed the trouble, but she let it go, for now.
"You must have scared him off! Heh! Nobody messes with a general's son!" Donovan roared in laughter. The sound booming all around, the dry leaves blowing in the wind, singing in the same chorus.
But everything still felt empty, so empty.
