Letters from the Brig

By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)

It was quiet in the mess during the evenings, and the wide windows facing out toward Vancouver made for a spectacular sight. Kaliya Shepard settled down by one of the windows, nursing a cup of tea as she pulled an old-fashioned pen and some sheets of paper out of her pocket. She doodled idly around the margins for a minute or two, wondering exactly what she was going to say.

The truth of it was often, she was simply bored. There was plenty to do, and she was up to her eyeballs in people who wanted to talk. She'd sent so many mission briefs and told so many people what had happened with Cerberus and the Collectors that she could practically give the whole spiel from memory. But she wasn't met to sit behind a desk and plan, waiting for other people to put things into motion. She was meant to be out there, fighting the Reapers herself.

Like Mordin often said, someone else might get it wrong. But dwelling on what she couldn't do helped no one. She put pen to paper and started to write.

Garrus-

I think the housekeeper is scared of me. She walked in on me while I was meditating, and apparently I was glowing? I learned the meditation technique from Samara, but I thought only asari glowed like that. I must not have even noticed her enter and leave, but this morning Anderson dropped by and told me to stop alarming the staff. I told him I didn't do it on purpose and he gave me a very dubious look. *sigh* You kill a few Reapers and no one believes you when you tell them you aren't all that scary. Honest.

I wish you could send me messages back. It's too risky, but there are some things I'd like to know. I've been able to keep up with what most of you are doing (you've certainly been busy) through trawling the Holonet, but not a peep so far on Miranda or Thane. Could you please look into that for me and make sure they're ok? God, I hope Cerberus hasn't caught up with Miranda. I'll hand the Illusive Man his own fucking head on a spike first, house arrest or not. (Though I'll still ask you not to spring me dramatically.)

Speaking of Cerberus, the Alliance has decided to detain several of our old Cerberus crew as "persons of interest." Gabby, Ken, Kelly...and they're also retrofitting Normandy to "fit Alliance standards." I guess that means no more comfy leather seats for Joker. I didn't tell them about EDI; do you think that was the right call? I've been very forthcoming, even offered a lot of information on Cerberus as a gesture of goodwill, but something tells me the Alliance won't be too understanding about the unshackled AI aboard my ship. I hope she and Joker are ok; he dropped by and told me he's usually on board (guarded) during the retrofits, so it shouldn't be anything too egregious.

Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be able to recalibrate Normandy's guns once I've got her back :)

Shepard put down her pen and flexed her fingers. She hadn't done this much old-fashioned writing in-well, in as long as she could remember. She could shoot and punch and fight with the best of them, but writing cramped up her hands.

"Commander? You still out here?"

She turned hastily, flipping over the letter, and saw James Vega striding across the deserted mess toward her.

"I'm not an officer any more, Lieutenant," she reminded him mildly.

He shrugged. "Not to the brass, maybe. To most of us soldiers, you're still Commander Shepard."

She couldn't help a smile at that. "Thanks, Lieutenant. Nice to know not everyone thinks I'm a war criminal."

Vega made a face. "Brass knows if they actually court-martial you, there'll be a riot. Even they aren't that loco." His eyes moved to the sheets of paper resting under her hand. "Love letter for someone?" he asked with a grin.

Shepard felt her cheeks flush a little. "No. Just some notes for the committee," she lied quickly. "Writing longhand helps me think."

"That's all you do. Think and hole up with the committee and think some more," said Vega, leaning on the window across from her. "Seriously, Commander, what do you do for fun?"

"I'm supposed to be having fun while under house arrest?"

"Anderson did say you were a smart ass."

"That's charitable of him." Shepard leaned back in her chair and stretched, catlike. "I read, mostly."

"What, no drinking and partying? No secret vices?" She had to laugh at that, thinking of the letter to Garrus and the last time they'd been together. Yes, she did have vices, but nothing he needed to know.

"Other than committing a minor act of genocide and working with terrorists? Not really." Vega grinned at her and straightened up.

"All right, you don't wanna play. Night, Shepard," he said as he walked away. She nodded and waited until he'd left before getting up and heading the opposite direction toward her quarters. The lights in the mess would be turning out soon anyway. When she'd locked the door behind her, she closed her eyes and sighed, flopping down on her mattress.

She wanted to like Vega, she really did; it got lonely not having any real friends. But he was still her jailer. No amount of friendliness changed that, at least not for now. Propping herself up on her pillows, she pulled out the letter and continued writing.

You know what's really maddening about house arrest? I've got all the drawbacks of being by myself with none of the benefits, isolation without privacy. The Alliance has loosened my leash considerably over the last month or so since I've been behaving, but it still gets old from time to time. At least there's a huge library here to keep my mind off it when I'm not talking to Alliance brass. They even have some physical books, Garrus!

OK, so only I would get excited about that. Stiill, it's a nice change from being up to my ears in datapads. And marines are always pranksters; I found some...interesting material in my copy of the definitive history of the First Contact War. Having dated a turian, I'm pretty sure you don't bend like that :)

She put the pen down and rubbed her temples, feeling her cheeks start to burn. She'd been good for the last month or so, trying her best to keep the more...physical elements of her house arrest and isolation off her mind. Lack of physical contact had never bothered her before, but now, after Garrus-

"God damned turian," she said, running her hands through her hair in exasperation. He really had ruined her. She could still feel his breath on her skin, those strong hands running up her spine. Sometimes she even dreamed about it; that was always the worst, waking up alone. She'd taken to working longer hours just so she could sleep more soundly.

Shepard hugged her legs to her chest and drew a deep sigh. Dwelling on it wasn't going to help anyone, and it would only make Garrus worry about her when her letters reached him. She scribbled her signature at the bottom of the sheet of paper and tossed it in an envelope before poor judgment got the better of her.

The envelope went into her room's laundry chute, followed by her actual clothes. If she was honest with herself, Shepard had no idea which of the support staff was Liara's agent. They all acted the same around her as they did around everyone else. Probably what made him or her such a good source of information.

She laid back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It was hours before she drifted off to sleep, and when she did, she couldn't help but dream of him.