The Alliance detention complex was huge. What passed for corridors were more like ballrooms, vast spaces separating two rows of doors. Alliance personnel bustled throughout the complex, solemn and busy, varying ranks of men and women carrying out countless duties. The décor was soothing – mostly whites and soft greys – with plenty of artificial lighting and full-length windows that faced out onto the beautiful grounds outside. The English scenery beyond was breath-taking. Vega's vision took some time to adjust, after having functioned for so long under the grim fluorescent panel lights of Omega. Everything here was clean, bright, and efficient.

The entourage consisting of Anderson, Vega, and two large guards, surrounded Shepard as they made their way through the grand building. They had been scanned, screened, and disarmed, before being permitted to enter the main complex with the two Alliance guards leading them. Shepard walked without any touch of weakness, her hands secured in front of her, her head held up defiantly. It was only the bonds that revealed her prisoner status – there was nothing in her countenance or the air around her that would have given it away. She looked just like she always did whenever the public were watching: larger than life, completely in control. Vega recognised her now for the first time. This was Commander Shepard. Whoever that tiny, defeated girl was back in the Captain's cabin, that was not Shepard.

A guard intercepted the group, knowing who they were immediately. He saluted – officially to Admiral Anderson, but his admiring gaze was fixed on Shepard.

'Welcome to the private wing, Admiral Anderson,' he said, standing to attention.

'Thank you,' Anderson replied. 'I was told that a special cell would be prepared?'

'Yes, sir.' A flicker of guilt passed over the guard's face. 'And she will kept in isolation, away from the other prisoners.'

Vega could tell that he was itching to salute the ex-Commander. He kept glancing at her, shifting uncomfortably, mouth twitching in preparation to say something to her. Vega knew exactly how he felt. But, unlike this obedient soldier, there was no force in hell that could have held Vega back from giving Shepard her due respect.

Resigning himself to the sad situation, the guard tore his attention away from Shepard and gestured to Anderson. 'This way, Admiral.'

They made their way into the private wing. There were an unusual number of security personnel patrolling the corridors, and it only increased the further they went. When they reached the door of Shepard's cell, the guard paused to enter a long and intricate code in the console panel at the side. Code confirmed, he glanced at Shepard.

'Commander-' he caught himself. 'I mean, Miss Shepard…' The words sounded absurd. 'Uh, I need you to step up to the scanner… so it can confirm your identity.'

Shepard nodded, no visible reaction to the lowly civilian title. She moved to stand before the wall panel and waited. Orange light passed over her body, took a split second to analyse the readings, and then flashed green. The awkward guard checked the display.

'Confirmed,' he stated. The door slid open. 'From this point forward, only three people are cleared to pass: Miss Shepard, Admiral Anderson, and the Lieutenant assigned to her.'

'This is Lieutenant Vega,' Anderson told him, motioning for Vega to step forward.

'Lieutenant,' said the guard, saluting.

Vega nodded. 'Hey,' he greeted him casually. 'So, you're not allowed in?'

'No, sir. No one else in this complex has the necessary clearance.'

'What about emergencies?' Vega asked.

'I will run through all the procedures with you in a few minutes, sir. First, we should secure the prisoner.'

"The prisoner". That grated on Vega's nose even more than "Miss Shepard". He held his tongue, submitted to a scan, and followed Admiral Anderson through the door. The guard waited outside while he and Anderson escorted Shepard into the cell.

It was not a cell so much as it was a cabin, about as large as a CO's quarters aboard a typical starship. One's gaze was immediately drawn to the large window that spanned the entire width of the room, providing a beautiful view of the London city skyline. Everything besides that was monochromatic and dull. Directly beneath the window stood a black leather double bed with an assortment of neutral-coloured cushions. It was partnered with a black armchair just a few feet away, facing out from the corner of the room. A small set of shelves lined the wall on its right, with a large bookcase beside that. As expected, there was not an extranet terminal or computer in sight, but a holo screen was fastened to the wall for the prisoner's entertainment. There was even a selection of videos and books nearby. Apart from that, the cabin had a drinks dispenser, a chest of drawers, and a writing desk.

Vega surveyed the cell with resignation. The conditions of Shepard's incarceration were by no means dismal, but one could hardly call the place cozy. He glanced over at her. Admiral Anderson was removing her handcuffs. Shepard rubbed her free wrists gratefully, and then took a slow wander around her new home. All the strength and defiance she had carried had been left outside the door; she had reverted back to the sad young woman whom Vega had met for the first time on the Normandy. She had the appearance of a caged animal, grimly inspecting its zoo habitat after living many years wild and free in a limitless world.

A lion. Dethroned king of the jungle.

Shepard wandered over to the bed, absently felt her hand along the mattress before moving past it. There was a door beside it, and upon opening it she found that it led to an ensuite bathroom. Vega watched her peek inside, glance back at the inside of the door, and then turn to Anderson with a frown.

'No lock on the bathroom door,' she said flatly.

'Shepard,' Anderson chided, his voice taking on a fatherly tone. 'This is detention. Your privacy is understandably limited here.'

The Commander sighed and closed the bathroom door. 'I guess I should be glad to have a door at all…'

Vega felt a pang of sympathy for her. 'Don't worry, Commander,' he volunteered with forced cheer, 'I'm the only one who's allowed in here, and I'm not gonna bust in on you while you're on the can.'

That really didn't need saying. He felt stupid as soon as the words came out. Shepard gave him an arch of her eyebrow, but said nothing.

'Lieutenant,' said Anderson. 'I'm forwarding you Shepard's schedule.' He activated his omnitool and worked his fingers over the holographic display. 'Everywhere she goes, you go.'

'Where am I going exactly?' asked Shepard.

Anderson completed the transfer and switched off his OT. 'Mostly interviews, pre-trial hearings, psycho-analyst appointments.'

'They're sending me to a shrink?' she flared. 'What the hell for?'

'The brass want extensive tests done on you. You're due for a full physical in about ten minutes – they've got to determine exactly what Cerberus did to you during those two years you were comatose.' He noticed her dark expression and added: 'Shepard, you can't blame them. For all they know, you could be a clone, or have some kind of control chip in your brain.'

Vega had to admit – if only to himself – that those possibilities had occurred to him, too. When he heard that Commander Shepard had been "resurrected" by Cerberus and was now doing their bidding, the only logical explanation seemed to be that they had taken control of her somehow. But she took out the Collector home world, she rescued countless human colonists, and she destroyed the relay that the Reapers were planning to use to launch a final attack. Surely she had proven that she was still the same Shepard who had stopped Saren and the geth two years ago? And how could the Alliance brass explain her severing ties with the Illusive Man? A Cerberus drone could not have turned its back on the leader of the organisation.

Anderson turned to Vega. 'The guard outside will show you the way to the medical exam room,' he told him. 'Don't leave Shepard alone with another person for any reason.'

'Understood, sir,' Vega responded.

'I'll be back later in the week,' the Admiral assured Shepard, seeing how unhappy she was with the whole situation. 'Meanwhile, I can trust you, right? You're not going to snap Vega's neck and make a run for it?'

Shepard could not resist a little smirk at that. She flashed the Lieutenant an impish glance. 'Have you seen this guy?' she said. 'No way. I'd have to make a shank or something if I wanted to take him down.'

'Sure, I feel really safe,' joked Vega.

Anderson grinned. 'Be gentle with him.' He pointed a finger at her. 'And be good! Co-operate with the doctors and the shrinks and anybody else who has a say in what happens to you. I need you to be the model prisoner, got it, Shepard?'

Shepard nodded, a faint smile still brightening her features. 'Aye aye sir.'

The Admiral drew near to her and gave her an impulsive clap on the back hat was almost a hug. The affection between them was evident, and it kind of surprised Vega.

'See you soon, kid,' Anderson murmured, and turned towards the exit. 'Take care of her, Lieutenant!'

Vega saluted the Admiral as he walked away. 'Don't worry, sir.'

He was almost through the door. Shepard made a sudden step after him – a movement that was almost imperceptible because of how slight it was.

'David!'

Anderson stopped. Vega glanced at Shepard in astonishment at the abrupt use of the Admiral's personal name. His eyes flickered to the back of the man in the doorway. Anderson didn't turn, he just waited.

'Thank you,' came Shepard's quiet voice.

That was all. David Anderson did not need to respond. He squared his shoulders and marched out of the room, leaving Vega and Shepard alone in silence.

Vega did not want to look at the Commander's face, afraid that he might see emotions there that would affect the legendary image he held of her in his mind. Some say that a person should never meet their hero face-to-face. Vega understood that. If a hero on a pedestal was to be replaced by a mere human of flesh and blood and fragile feelings, then could they still be a hero? He didn't know the answer, and he hoped he would not have to find out.

He waited for a few endless moments, awkwardly awaiting some kind of sign from the woman a few feet away that everything was normal again. She must have sensed his discomfort.

'Okay,' she said, expelling the heaviness of the air over their heads. 'I guess we have an appointment to keep.'