The Loft was a quiet and peaceful place, except maybe when Shepard had Expel 10's latest blaring out of the surround sound system.
As he stirred, his eyes focussed on the empty fish tank, and he felt a momentary pang of regret at the loss of Kaylee Sanders on the collector ship.
He pushed the memory out of his head, and slowly sat up, groaning under his own weight. He brought a hand to his bandages ribs. He sat in silence, listening to the low, muffled hum of the Normandy's engine from far below.
It had been 3 months since they'd won against the Reapers, after the Catalyst had given him the three options for victory; Control, Synthesis, or Destroy. He did not regret his decision, though it had led to a few Mass Relay's being destroyed, but there was always sacrifices in war. He stood, and walked from the bed, up the steps, glancing at the personal terminal on his desk, and into the bathroom. He did his business and washed. He found himself staring at his reflection, idly stroking a scar that ran down the side of his face. A souvenir of the war, courtesy of the Crucible exploding with him inside. He brought his fingers up to the bandages and pressed. Instantly pain seared through his body, and images flashed into his mind; ships exploding, bullets hitting his body...armour being torn apart.
He was brought out of these memories and reminiscence by a voice from above.
"Commander?"
"Joker." Shepard replied, panting from his mental exertion. "What is it?"
"I've got Admiral Hackett on the line,"
Shepard stared into his reflection, and splashed face face with cold water. "Patch him through to my private terminal." He said, his voice a little calmer.
He stepped out of the bathroom, and sat at the terminal.
"Good morning, Shepard." Hackett voice said, with a slightly tinny tone from the speakers. "We've got a problem."
"Haven't we always?" Shepard replied.
"Hm." Hackett grunted, "we've lost track of one of our science vessels, the Calypso," as Hackett said this, a file opened on the terminal, a briefing about the Calypso, "The Calypso is a Council experimental science ship, crewed by Council races and maintained by our Alliance and the Turian military. She was last reporting from near the Perseus Veil, and she went dark around the time of the Battle of London."
"And you're only investigating it now?"
Hackett's tone was annoyed, but clipped, "Several small teams have been sent to investigate, but each one has disappeared. Every time they reach the Perseus Veil, they vanish without a word. If they have passed through the Veil, then we can't reach them."
Shepard put two and two together. "So you want me to investigate?"
"Yes. The Normandy can break the Perseus Veil and still maintain communication."
"That's never been tested." Shepard cut in.
"The Normandy's point-to-point communication can reach anywhere, and those upgrades your crew made to the hull should protect against most conditions." Hackett replied, "And, Shepard? One more thing...your mother was assigned to the Calypso, about a month before its disappearance." Hackett added.
Shepard stared at the desk.
"I've sent the corridinates to the Normandy's Galaxy map, I trust you with this, Shepard."
Shepard frowned, "I'll report back when I know something." He replied, and cut the line.

After getting dressed into casual clothes, Shepard made his way down to the CIC, and announced that he wanted the ground teams to meet in the briefing room. The crew sat around the briefing table in silence. This was truly the first time they had all gathered together on the Normandy since the Battle of London. The losses they had taken were still heavy in their hearts. Admiral Anderson, who was killed by the Illusive Man on the Citadel; Samara, who took her own life after the loss of her daughters; Wrex, who Shepard had to eliminate on Virmire, Mordin, whom Shepard killed himself to stop him from spreading the genophage cure...and Ashley, who gave her life to program a nuclear device on Virmire.
Shepard stood at the head of the table, looking solemn.
"I know we've suffered losses over the years," he said, his voice low, gravelly. "Some lost in the line of duty, some lost to personal issues. But all friends." He added, staring at the table. "But the Council needs us again."
Shepard's close friend, Garrus Vakarian, looked towards the Commander, "Let me guess...another Eden Prime? Another galactic threat they won't believe us on?"
Shepard frowned fractionally, "There is an alliance science vessel that has vanished off radar, and dropped out of contact, somewhere near the Perseus Veil."
Tali looked towards Shepard at this, "Do the Council think the Geth are involved?" She asked.
Shepard looked at her, "Its possible," he commented.
"But Legion cured the Geth, how can there be any Heretics left?" Tali countered.
"If the Calypso had ventured beyond the Veil, there could still be Geth defences, weapons, hidden beyond, left behind from the Heretics." Shepard explained.
"But we won't know until we get there, correct?" Liara spoke up.
"Exactly." Shepard replied.
The crew fell silent once more.
"Any questions?" Shepard asked.
"What kind of science does the Calypso engage in?" Asked Miranda.
"The dossier states 'experimental science,'" Shepard continued, "It vaguely describes bio-weaponry, chemical warfare, and genetic engineering." He added.
The crew fell silent again.
"Well, when do we leave?" Garrus asked, to which Shepard gave a smirk and straightened.
"Joker, lock in the coordinates of the Perseus Veil, and get us out there."
"You got it, boss," Joker's voice replied.
Shepard looked around the table, "Everyone get your gear together. Be ready to move on my word." He said, and watched everyone leave.
Everyone except Miranda.
"Shepard." He said once the last person left. "I wanted to thank you for letting me come back to the Normandy..." She started, standing and moving closer to him, "and to you..." Her voice became a purr as Shepard watched her, a smirk on his face as she slid into the space between him and the briefing table.
They started into each others eyes silently.
"Did you miss me, Shepard?" She asked quietly. The fearsome Commander remained silent, only answering, when her eyebrow cocked up fractionally, by kissing her firmly, his hands lifting her by her firm rump to sit on the table, as he worked her leather jumpsuit off her shoulders.