The Truth Confined
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She wasn't used to being stationed in the same place for so long. It had been three months since she'd been taken to Vancouver and subjected to every possible test that the Alliance required. Prodded, questioned, and watched on a daily basis, Sunday had grown tired of complaining and sulking, and had fallen into a state of apathy that had proven to be more effective at deterring people than anything else. She was still locked up, but at least she had been given her own apartment in Vanier Park.
With her wrapped hand, she jabbed the heavy bag that hung from the living room ceiling – a sharp, solid punch that always set the right mood. A twenty-minute routine, followed by a ten-minute one with the speed bag, and then she was good to get on the treadmill for thirty minutes – a quick protein shake and a shower, and Vega would be there to drive her to the barracks for her weekly clinical test. She'd tried to tell the doctors that her tiredness was not physical, that it was her mind that was keeping her up all night. Lying in bed was tortuous, and taking the pills they'd prescribed her only made her feel groggy and depressed.
"Just give me a task, something to do, anything," she'd muttered, clenching her fists under the desk. But the physicians had looked at each other and shaken their heads. Day after day she walked the length of her minuscule apartment, a caged animal with only one song.
Prepare yourselves for the Arrival.
Whenever silence hit her, those words would come back to her. She had to turn up the volume and hope that she could get lost in the dark beats of the music she was always listening to. It made her think of Afterlife and Aria, and the mocking words of the asari every time they'd parted ways. Well, she'd heeded the advice. She'd found herself a man to keep her warm. And now that man was dead.
A shadow loomed over her. She turned around so fast that she almost lost balance. "Shit, Vega. I didn't hear you come in." She hopped off the treadmill and took off her earphones.
"Running again, Lola? Sorry to say that's not gonna take you anywhere." He shook her hand vigorously, since she'd forced him to drop the salute.
"I can always dream, can't I," she said, wiping her forehead with the wrist towel. "Seems I lost track of time?" She looked at the clock on the wall. "Huh. What do you know, I ran for an hour. I'll go get a shower. Make yourself comfortable."
"No need to hurry," Vega replied, activating his omni-tool and checking the extranet settings as well as the security camera system in the apartment. He heard the water running and he thought that were he a kinky creep, he could be hacking into her bathroom cam. Well, kinky as well as more tech-savvy. Though if he were more proficient, he wouldn't have found himself in that position. Anderson had found him on Omega after he'd torn a certain screen off the wall just because he hadn't thought of another way to shut it down.
This time, he hoped he could get the job done without breaking anything. He found the footage of her exercise routine and looped it. He just needed sixty minutes. Shepard had told him that she'd been running for an hour, so… "Make that an hour and a half," he muttered to himself. He checked the results and smiled, satisfied.
"What are you up to?" She sounded suspicious. He turned around and found her standing at the door, wearing her downtime uniform. There was a towel hanging from her shoulders; she'd just stopped dabbing her short black hair.
Vega cleared his throat. "Admiral Anderson wanted me to show you some vids that you've been getting to one of the Normandy channels." He entered a key and the image of a peaceful-looking drell filled the screen.
Sunday took a few steps back, feeling that her heart was beating faster than when she exercised. "When… When did you get this?" She tried to swallow but her throat refused to respond. She finally managed to tear her eyes off the screen and she looked at Vega, who was visibly uncomfortable.
"There are four messages – the last one arrived this morning. Hey listen… If anybody asks, you've never seen'em, alright? Oh, and by the way, Anderson said-"
"Got it. I'm not supposed to get info from the outside." She tossed the towel away and it landed on a chair that had never been used. She breathed in and out slowly, and after a short while she said, "Okay, I'm ready."
"I uh… I'll be in the other room. To give you some privacy, ya know."
But she shook her head. "Stay. I…" She let out a deep breath. "I think I need something stronger than a protein shake, and I don't like drinking alone."
"I'll see what I can find," James offered, and he dashed into the small kitchen. Everything was impeccable, except for the trash can, which was overstuffed with empty packages and soda cans. He snorted – it reminded him too much of his own place, at least till he'd joined the Alliance. He opened the fridge and found six bottles of Canadian lager, still in their original pack.
When he returned, he was holding two of them in his hands. He found her curled up on a corner of the couch. Her Panamanian-rum eyes were fixed on the frozen image. "Are you sure you want me to-?"
"Yes," she replied categorically. A short while later she added, in a softer tone, "Yeah, I'd like that."
"Alright, Lola," Vega sighed. "Here we go."
His voice hadn't changed, but it was easy to see that the fire that had once roared within him was now dying out. She'd wanted a life with him and with Jacob –the best of both worlds: the spirit and the body-, but when Jacob had died, she'd been unable to pursue Thane's companionship as anything more than that. She felt something deep and clean for the man that was now telling her about his son, the Citadel, his suffering and…
I love you.
A chill ran down her spine. Just like that, he'd said the words that she'd never heard from anyone, that she'd never felt like saying to anyone. She felt James shifting uncomfortably on the other side of the couch. She took a swig of the cold beer and stared at the bottle in silence.
"You okay?" James's voice was friendly.
"Yeah… It's just he'd never… We've never…" She let out a sigh. "We had nothing, and everything. Thane's got Kepral's syndrome. Have you ever heard the expression 'Humidity kills'? It's actually true in his case. Basically, he'll find it harder and harder to breathe until…"
"Shit. Nothing can be done about it?"
"No. Just… Make him comfortable, I guess." She drank some more, letting the cool drink run down her throat. Somehow, it tasted bitterer than she remembered. "Play the second vid."
Talking about Kolyat, doing the right things, setting an example: Thane still wanted to make the universe a brighter place. Short and straight to her heart. Sunday felt so angry… She understood the reasons for her arrest, but still…
"The shit you've done…" Anderson had said, almost livid. It had been Hackett who had interceded and reminded him that she'd acted with his permission in Bahak. But Anderson had shaken his head. "That's not what I meant."
She knew that both of them had been disappointed with her involvement with Cerberus, but she didn't regret it one bit. Except for the outcome, of course. Losing her freedom, her chance to communicate with her comrades… Thane's voice, longing for a word from her. She clenched her fist and drank the rest of the contents in her bottle.
"I'll get you another," James said, disappearing into the kitchen.
She smiled briefly, thinking that perhaps Anderson wasn't so mad at her these days. He'd allowed her to see the vids, and he'd practically given James to her. Hell of a soldier, she could tell. Alliance groupie, though not as much as Kaidan. She wondered what Jacob would make of him. Would have made. She threw her head back and stared at the ceiling. In the end, Jacob would have patted James on the shoulder and told him that it was okay, that he'd also treated her with deference at first, but that he'd learned that she was just one of them – something he'd discovered in time, not right away. She'd wanted to avoid getting that kind of attention from James, and so she'd insisted on being called by her name. James had eventually changed her name for "Lola," or simply "Shepard," and she'd never asked why.
"Here." James gave her the second bottle and slumped back onto the couch. "This guy… He seems like a good father."
"He's trying," Sunday conceded. "He's not perfect, but…"
"Better late than never," James murmured, taking a short sip. "Want me to play the third one?"
As soon as the message was over, a dead silence set in between them. James wished that he'd left her alone, but at the same time, perhaps she would need-
"Give me a minute, Vega," her deep, harsh voice demanded. Alone, she'd meant. Hell yeah – he didn't need to be asked twice. James nodded and went back into the kitchen, knowing that when he returned into the living room she'd have chugged down the rest of the beer. Poor guy. James understood the drell's fear of dying in a hospital. That was no way for a warrior soul to go, and from what Shepard had told him, that guy had been one of the most courageous men he'd ever heard of.
Thane had talked about a trip to Earth. Earth was a water planet, everyone knew that. Not good for him, but of course he'd been there for her. Even though she was not in New Mexico, she was on Earth. She was from Earth. He'd probably gone there to be closer to her. James sighed. Lately he'd found himself longing for familiar places. He'd ask for a little shore leave when all this Shepard-sitting thing was over. He didn't think that it would go on for long. Having Shepard inside that shoebox with the shit that could happen out there… The Alliance couldn't be so blind.
"You said there was one more message?" Sunday's voice brought him back to reality. She left the empty bottles on the counter and grabbed the third one, the last one. James noticed that she didn't look particularly sad, but instead she seemed to be about to snap.
"I'll play the fourth one, but I think it would be best if you watched it alone. This is getting too personal and-"
She nodded. "Got it."
They went back to the living room and she sat on the couch – parted legs, leaning forward. Whatever she expected to hear was unknown to James, who walked away as soon as he heard the word "Siha" from the drell's lips.
He went out to the balcony and breathed in the cool air coming from English Bay. The dusky red tones of the dying sunlight blended with the blue waters below. So peaceful. He'd seen many places since he'd joined the Alliance. Colonies, uncharted worlds, the dark empty void of space… But nothing ever seemed so beautiful to him as Earth.
James tilted his head and cracked his neck. He'd skipped his daily routine to be there that evening. If the vid thing went on for long, he could go for a run, or perhaps he could use some of her equipment. In a way, he was just as trapped as Shepard. He could always walk away though, and Anderson wouldn't hold it against him. He wasn't that kind of guy.
His omni-tool flashed. Talk of the Devil… "Admiral."
"Vega. Did you show her the vids?"
"She's watching the last one now."
"Listen, son. We have just received word… A drell going by the name of Tannor Nuara passed on last week. Only drell there that matched his characteristics. His body has been collected by his only living relative, who we assume is the person that sent the last message."
"Ah shit… Er, sorry, sir." James grimaced. "Should I be the one to…?"
"No. I'll have to talk to her about it when you bring her in tomorrow. This might come up during the final revision of her case, and I wouldn't want her to be unprepared." Anderson sighed. "What's her status?"
"She's more than ready to go back to work," James said confidently.
"That your opinion, Lieutenant?"
"Sir. Yes, sir. In my opinion, sir."
"We'll see what we can do. Let her have a good night's sleep and pick her up tomorrow at 1100. The hearing starts after midday, so I'll get to spend some time with her after my meeting with the committee."
James felt relieved. At last, that bureaucratic nightmare would be over. He'd seen the vids about her deeds, read the reports. He'd been there when the crew of the Normandy had been taken to the barracks and interrogated about her activity in the Terminus system. Many of them had been Cerberus, but some of them –Chakwas, those engineers, the pilot– were fiercely loyal to her. They'd all sung the same tune: they were using Cerberus to do what the Council and the Alliance had refused to do. She had to be reinstated. It was a no-brainer.
"Vega," she called from inside the apartment. Her voice sounded deep and serious. Not that she was the merry kind, James thought as he walked back in; he'd rarely seen her laugh. Then again, she had very few reasons to be happy. "I need to get a message through. I know this could get you in trouble-"
"Shepard…" he started to say, but she raised her hand, silencing him.
"This friend of mine… I need to know that he's fine. I don't know when I'll be out, or if I'll be able to go to the Citadel any time soon, but-"
Sorry, Anderson. "Admiral Anderson has just called," he blurted out. "He… He said that a drell under an assumed name died a few days ago. I'm sorry."
"You don't know if it's Thane," she hissed, more to herself than to him.
"The Admiral will fill you in tomorrow." He saw her raise her head, and looked away. "He has requested that you be ready for pick-up at 1000. I am to drive you to HQ and escort you to an office where you will stay until Admiral Anderson is available to meet you. If you have any questions, you can contact me through one of the guards stationed outside." He saluted her and hurried to the door. When he was about to go out, he released the loop from the video system, and he locked the door behind him.
Sunday curled up on the couch and stared at the empty screen. They had to be wrong. Thane wouldn't give up so easily. He'd beaten the odds before. He'd once proved the doctors wrong when they'd told him that his body would no longer be fit for duty. He'd showed them all. He'd even lived to tell his son the tale of the suicide mission.
. . .
His fingers stroked hers, showing a compassion that she was not used to seeing. "Siha, had I been able to exchange my life for Jacob's, I would have done it without hesitation."
"Don't say that," she replied. "I cannot even fathom the thought of you dying, especially not now."
"He was a young man, full of vitality and desire. He had a future ahead, one that included you."
"Stop." Her voice, unwillingly harsh. "Please." A softer tone that she'd discovered because of him.
"Very well." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead softly. His lips felt colder now in comparison to Jacob's. It wasn't meant to be that way. "If you need me, you know where I'll be."
They traveled across the parts of the galaxy that nobody wanted to deal with together with the rest of the crew, taking care of the merc gangs. Thane accompanied her and Garrus to deal with their bases and cargoes, and sometimes Jack and Grunt came along. And amidst the bullets, the detonations, and the blood, she could breathe. She was in control of her life. She was alive.
The moments with Thane were a succession of memories that she would never see as clearly as he did, but she felt them as part of her soul. Every reassuring word, every gentle caress cocooned her, and she grew stronger again because he cared. There would never be physical intimacy between them, but she knew that the bond that they formed in those months that they spent together would linger in her memory long after he would be gone. He had saved her soul.
. . .
"And now you're gone," Sunday whispered. She wanted to believe that it was some other drell that had died, but she would probably be deluding herself. Something foreign and unpleasant took hold of her – a dark truth that tasted of ashes and choked her. Once again, she couldn't breathe.
The rest of the night was spent on memories that had never been.
Get up. Get dressed. Get ready. Get in the car. Get out of the car. Stay here.
Wait.
Anderson would be there any minute now. Sunday breathed in and out slowly, her mind lost in controlled gestures and phrases; anything that could help her out was welcome. What to say, what to scream, what to be quiet about. Questions, speeches, arguments… Where was the action? She felt more and more trapped with each passing day, as if she were tied to an end of a rope, and on the other end…
She stood up and looked at the time. Anderson was late. Strange. She turned to the window. Just another cloudy day. She wondered if they would send her to watch one of the colonies. Probably a distant one, as far away from them as possible.
The door behind her opened and she turned around. James looked agitated.
"Shepard," he called. "The defense committee wants to see you right away. Come with me."
...
