Shepard
I almost regret coming back.
The past three weeks at Alliance HQ were a nasty reminder that people like me don't exist. People don't come away from an atmospheric flash-fry looking better than they did a decade ago. While every part of me resents it, loathes the situation, I can't really blame them. I get why the doctors, scientists and researchers all stare while I run through tests. I understand the don't-blink looks of shock when I recall missions with perfect clarity. And I get why they rerun every examination several times over.
People like me don't exist. Soldiers like me die and stay dead.
While I almost regret it now, I knew what I promised the day Hackett stepped on my ship. I promised, knowing the Alliance would have questions, that 'unique circumstances' would dominate every conversation. I don't regret cutting the deal, but somewhere between avoiding prison and sitting through six separate hearings ruined the afterglow of not-quite-blackmail. Every time I sit in front of the brass, I have to chant a mantra. Keep the story straight. Gotta keep the story straight.
Keep it straight or I have to do this all the fuck over again, but next time with a lovely pair of handcuffs.
And at the end of the day, after all these tests and interrogations, I get nothing but silence. An empty room with no extranet, visitors, or news from the outside world. No contact whatsoever until the 'official' story for Aratoht picks up speed.
See, silence is one of the most effective ways to make a problem go away. Silence lets the media say their talking points without a half-dead lunatic in fists reach of mouthy reporters. Silence lets the brass come up with a strategic message to send to the galaxy while I hide out. And silence drives me batshit up the belfry, but orders are orders.
The Alliance doesn't want their precious little freak show shot in the back. Not after Torfan, and definitely not after the Battle of the Citadel. Worst-case would be a batarian attack if they catch wind I'm on Earth. So for now, the Alliance waits, I hide, they run tests, and I sit in silence every night.
It never occurred to me just how rigid Alliance life was until I came back to it. Everything I hated about working with Cerberus I took for granted, from their deep pockets and tiny luxuries to the long leash given during the mission. If I didn't want to do something, I just… didn't. There was autonomy, choice. Freedom to save the damn galaxy instead of staring down empty walls in silence. Coming back now, everything is a fistful of 'yes sirs' and stares and shock. And between all the procedure, bureaucracy, tests, and lonely nights, there's one extra nagging realization.
I really fucking miss Garrus.