Shepard rolled on the other side of the bed. A wave of sadness washed over her. She set her alarm clock ten minutes later, she hoped to pick up the dream exactly where she left it. She closed her eyes but in her dreaming mind Liara was gone.

She dreamt she was comfortably lying on a bed, which was partially enlightened by the sun seeping through the window curtains on her right side. From her position she could see green meadowy hills and a clear blue sky. That view filled her with inner serenity. All her senses were at peace.

The alarm clock annoyingly rang. She curled up under the warm blankets that were a safe but fake hidden place from the outside world. After a deep sigh she stood up from the bed and sat on the desk chair. She tore a piece of paper from a notebook and with an almost empty pen she wrote every detail of what she had dreamt. If alcohol blinded her sensations and weed emphasized them, writing made her heart bleed.

Nearly a page was written. Twenty-three lines. She folded it and put it inside her pillowcase. She couldn't have done such a thing with an olopad. Besides, paper didn't risk of being erased.

At the end she wrote: "How?"

She opened the drawer of the desk and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. She could have recreated her dream, but something stopped her. "Perhaps she doesn't find me interesting at all. And even if that's not the case, I would seem desperate and helpless, showing up like that."

She picked up her jacket from the floor and put it on. She slowly and thoughtfully walked out of her quarters and while she was waiting for her legs to bring her to the Normandy bridge she rolled some tobacco. Although it was a habit with her, most people considered it barbaric: tobacco was no longer grown, since less harmful nicotine-like substances were discovered. Shepard didn't care about it, she didn't expect to live much longer anyway.

On her way she greeted some crew members and soon she was outside the ship. A strong gust of wind hit her right on her face, sour like her awakening. She almost close her left hand in front of her face and with the right one she lighted her cigarette lighter. After some unfortunate attempts fire began to burn the first tobacco leaves and she greedily inhaled the smoke. She looked around and she couldn't help admiring the beauty of that alien world: tall and thin trees with green stems and purple leaves were the only things visible for miles. Then, she raised her eyes to the golden-grey sky above her. "Wow." She had goosebumps. Seeking a silent place to think, she entered the forest and heard the songs of the local crawling creatures. It was magical.

Conflicting thoughts were storming in her head when she suddenly saw her. "Liara." She said, startled. She didn't had a minute to think. Her heart was furiously beating in her chest.

The Asari had her back turned and hadn't seen or heard her commander. She was crouched down, searching something in the soil. Shepard raised an eyebrow and went silently closed to her. "There are no Prothean ruins here. I'm sure of it."

Liara jumped out of her skin. However, when she realized the one she was looking at was a familiar face, she placed a hand on her chest and sighed. "Commander." She paused for a very long time, without noticing it. "Sh…Sh… Shh…."

"Are you shushing me?" The redhead was clearly confused.

"Sh..sh.. Sheeparrrrrrd. Gord Monning!"

Shepard's mouth opened in shock and amusement. "Are you fuckin' high?!"

The blue alien smiled so unnaturally that she showed all her thirty-two teeth to the woman in front of her. It resembled the expression some animals do before attacking. "Hi? Yes. Hi to you two. Too? Too To two… two too to."

Birds responded to the chant and began to sing.

Shepard frowned and started laughing so hard that her facial muscles were hurting. She returned serious. "Not that I officially stated that you're very very high and words sound funny to you I… I have to ask you something."

The scientist was looking somewhere else, but somehow she articulated her answer correctly. "What?"

"What do you think of me?"

Something other than Shepard had definitely drawn the asari attention. "Yo… you? You are a… beautiful…"

The commander heart stopped. She felt veins throbbing everywhere.

Liara continued. "A beautiful bluuue butterfly!"

Shepard wrinkled her nose. She had never been called a butterly. She was not gracious at all. What did she mean?

The Asari started to run, following a beautiful big butterly that was not her commander but an actual flying insect.

The redhead mouth went flat. "Now I see…"

She found the scientist at the top of a tree. "LIARA! COME DOWN, YOU'LL HURT YOURSELF!" She shouted.

"I cot it!"

"Cut?! For God's sake don't cut that poor creature!"

"I mean… I caught it!" Liara floated down from the tree thanks to her biotic powers. She went close to Shepard and opened her enclosed hands. The butterfly flapped her wings and released a golden substance before flying away. "Lick it!" the Asari encouraged her commander.

"What?!"

"High! Lick!"

"On your… hands?"

"Yes. Where else? It'sson them."

Lick. That word and the sound of her lovely voice pronouncing it made Shepard's pussy wet. She hesitantly obeyed and touched her hands with the point of her tongue. Then she licked the substance vigorously.

Colours.

Wet.

Heat.

She stopped.

She couldn't understand if she was insanely aroused or extremely high. Or both. She scrutinized Liara's face and could almost see the little scales in her face. She wanted to tell her everything she felt. "I…"

The scientist sat on the soft grass. The commander did the same. She tried to speak but all the words she knew became nonsense and then she simply forgot them. She took Liara hand and dried it with the sleeve of her jacket.

Shepard closed her eyes. Images started spinning in her mind. She saw a human version of Liara sitting on an ancient throne, surrounded by trusted guards. She kneeled before her and dropped a monster head to the ground. Her armor was made of metal and cloth. Subsequently, she was playing an acoustic guitar under the rain, without realizing that a young girl with a familiar face was looking at her from inside a diner. Lastly, she was back on the Normandy quarters and emptied her pillowcase: the page she had written was gone.