Notes:

This story takes place after the Collector Base. This Shepard (femShep) is Paragon, destroyed the Collector Base, and was completely unaware of the events that happened at the Alpha Relay. Original content within the context of the story-line (with some very minor alterations). I tried my best to mirror the timeline with what I felt would be appropriate for the setting. I also kept up with BioWare's design of Shepard to be a woman on a last name basis. Even though I'm fully aware of technological constraints, it is amusing.

Your word of warning. I listened to a lot of Muse and Linkin Park while coming up with this story. For better or for worse, they unintentionally influenced some of the events.

Oh and I don't own any of the characters, locations, or instances of Mass Effect. Yadda, yadda, yadda. The safety clause to not get sued!


'Why is everyone saying I'm "incarcerated." Temporarily relieved of active duty would be, accurate.' She kept mulling over the events of the past few days. Her head was still spinning trying to make sense of it all. Accused of destroying a space station of hundreds of thousands. Dragged back to Earth. Her ship impounded. Her crew, gone. Her friends, banished. Everything was crumbling again. She scoffed as she crossed her arms and looked out the window.

"Just like when I died."

Commander Shepard. Born an orphan on Earth. She dug her way through the tough streets in the pestilence- ridden pit holes of New York, rose above the rest, joined the Alliance, became a hero, and saved the galaxy, 'Twice' she bemused. That is the Commander everyone believed. A rags to riches story groomed to be all too perfect for the Alliance to perk up the recruitment numbers. 'If you work hard, you can fulfill your dreams.'

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing back her bangs to tuck them behind her ear. It had grown out since she had been brought back from the great beyond. It was still mostly a deep brown with flecks of black, resting comfortably below her shoulders while contouring her face. She was ready to get rid of it all after the Collector's Base, but someone convinced her otherwise.

No longer in her Cerberus gear, she was thrust back into an Alliance uniform. An upgraded style that looked more like war-time military fatigues of black the grey with shoulder guards, and less like a restrictive bodysuit, Shepard felt like a soldier again. Excluding the longer hair. Even her face felt more alive than she had remembered it being. Initially she was resistant to the treatments to remove her scars from the implants Cerberus stuffed into her, but now she was glad to have gone through it. There was mental clarity. Superficial of course, but sometimes being able to look at your reflection and feel normal really helped ease the mind of any worries. She was glad that her eyes still shone the piercing green she was so use to. Shepard wondered briefly before what it would be like to have the mechanical eyes of the Illusive Man. Too creepy to entertain the thought she brushed it aside with a wave of her hand and was glad they spent so much money to keep her the same. 5'9". Lean. Muscular in a toned fashion. Fast. Sharp. All of her reflexes were still there.

Shepard dragged her head out of the clouds to focus on her current state. She was stuck. In a room. At Alliance headquarters. Multiple ways out. Easily. She's been in this position dozens of times, just not with her bosses. While she had gone rogue temporarily, she didn't want to piss off the Alliance, the only home she knew. She plopped herself into a chair that faced the oversized window, crossing her arms with her elbows planted on her knees as she leaned forward. "The windows are too big," she murmured to herself. "Structural weakness. Easy target," she hummed.

The events of the morning were replaying in her head. Barely a day back on Earth and she was shuttled over to the chamber room where the big-wigs convened. She couldn't remember their faces, what their voices sounded like, or what they were doing. But she did know the words.

"You'll be held here while we investigate the matter."

"Your actions are very unbecoming of you Shepard."

"We respect what you have done for us, but we can't have a diplomatic issue, let alone a war, with the Batarians."

And that was that. She did remember seeing Admiral Hackett waiting for her outside, but she didn't fight him. He drolled out her restrictions and the Normady was grounded, impounded, with an impending retro-fit back to Alliance regulations. She had already protested when he picked her up, so she knew it was futile to raise an argument she would never win. She was escorted back to her room, her prison. Well better then a prison. At least it had a comfortable bed, a bookcase, a bathroom, and one hell of a view. Twelve stories up and towering over the city of Vancouver, Canada. People probably paid thousands of credits of month just to get even a fraction of this space in the city. Granted the layout was a little bland, white concrete walls, oak shelves and metal tables, but the skyline made up for it. She had returned at least 4 hours ago and had already ran through her exercise routine. Now she was bored out of her mind and with her thoughts.

Hackett handed her a data pad to fill out; to explain the past few months and why her actions were necessary to save the lives of those colonists that lived outside of their jurisdiction. But she couldn't bring herself to answer all of those questions right now. More mindless paperwork. After months of being drilled and watched by Cerberus, with every detail recorded on their missions, she didn't want to dribble it all again on paper as a soldier. Not so soon.

Feeling her body slumping into the chair, there was a buzz at the door. A mumble behind the door was a man identifying himself as a Lieutenant. She stood up. "Permission to enter," she responded. The man walked in. He was young, clean-cut, and a bit shorter then her. Nothing particular about him stood out except he saluted her upon entry. "I don't believe you're allowed to do that, Lieutenant."

The young man nodded and handed her a set of blank data pads. "Sorry ma'am." She took the hardware from his hands and he quickly spun on his heel and exited.

Shepard glanced down and immediately knew what these were for and who they were from. "Liara," is all she whispered. A month prior her old SR1 comrade asked her a favor: to tell her story for future generations. She wanted to start keeping a record of everyone's life in case the Reapers won. Morbid, they agreed, but a beautiful thought. Shepard felt a warm smile spread throughout her body as she looked at the data pads. They held Liara's signature coding on them: no one would be able to break in. They were for her and Shepard's eyes only.

Without a second thought she walked back to the chair, tossed aside the Alliance pad Hackett provided her, and started the first sentence on the blank page that would represent her life.

'There once was a woman from Earth…'

'I can fix it later,' she thought to herself.