A/N: Apologies for the late update, I had to iron out some problems my lovely beta Katherinosaurus caught just in time. The chapter is a little longer than usual as a result! Any remaining errors are wholly mine.

Chapter Four

Shepard was aware that she had been sitting in the same spot for nearly the whole afternoon, but she couldn't work up the willpower to do anything else. She kept telling herself that after the next news segment finished playing she would get up and go for a run on the treadmill, or read one of those old trashy novels she had been inexplicably provided with, but she never actually got around to it. She stayed awkwardly curled up at the end of the couch, leaning her head on one hand as she turned the new information over and over in her mind.

Earlier in the day she had decided to finally switch on the vidscreen she had been provided with. ANN24 was the only vid channel she had been given access to. She didn't usually put much stock in news programmes designed for public consumption but she was starting to feel a bit starved for information. Her limited extranet access provided her with a trickle, but as a rule it was based on what the general public might find interesting and what might generate views for the site in question more than what actually constituted important news. She wasn't expecting to find in-depth situation reports from ANN but she had hoped a twenty-four hour news channel might at least have a bit more variety.

She hadn't been disappointed in that sense. Along with the human-centric news she expected from an Alliance news channel, there were various mildly interesting reports from asari, turian and salarian space relating to trade and politics. There were also numerous brief pieces ranging from human interest stories to celebrity gossip. Coming under the former category was a piece on the multiculturalism of the Citadel and how it had evolved over time and influenced Citadel culture. It was noted offhand that of late, quarians on pilgrimage had been noticeable in their absence.

That had jumped out at her. Shepard had learned from Tali that the pilgrimage was a permanent fixture in quarian culture, had been for quite some time, and was unlikely to ever be stopped for any reason. As the hub of galactic trade and commerce, many young quarians chose the Citadel as their destination, just as Tali had. This had continued after the defeat of Saren, despite the reduction in the Citadel's perceived safety. The fact that the flow of pilgrimages to the Citadel had slowed or stopped was worrying as it likely meant the flow of pilgrimages everywhere else had stopped too.

If pilgrimages were being put on hold, it could only mean that young quarians were being required to stay with the fleet. But why?

Shepard could only think of two reasons. Either the quarian admirals had listened to Tali's warnings about the Reapers and were beginning to prepare, or they had finally decided to start a push to take back their homeworld from the geth. As much as she wanted it to be the former, she had to concede that the most likely conclusion was the latter.

It had her worried. Worried, frustrated, and annoyed that she couldn't do anything about it.

She was very concerned about Tali. If the quarians were going to war, Tali would be with them. Legion's presence aboard the Normandy during the last stages of their mission to stop the Collectors had begun to force Tali to question her preconceptions regarding the geth, but after years of enmity she couldn't see her friend choosing the race of synthetics over her own people. Her duty to her people would outweigh her reservations about attacking the geth, Shepard was sure.

But it wasn't just personal concerns weighing her mind down. Sometimes she resented her ability to do so, but the fact was that she couldn't help but consider the possibility of a quarian war against the geth in purely tactical terms as well. Unless great leaps in technology had been made in the past couple of months, the quarians and the geth were more or less evenly matched. A war between the two races would decimate both, which would substantially reduce their ability to fight the Reapers.

Shepard had to contact Tali. She had to know what was going on. She wanted to be sure the younger woman was doing all she could to talk her people into preparing for the Reapers rather than wasting lives and military resources throwing themselves against the geth, but she knew that might not be the case. If it wasn't, Shepard knew she would have to convince her. She couldn't just let it go and blindly trust Tali, the stakes were far too high for that.

But there was no way for her to contact her friend – or anyone, for that matter. Her access to electronic messaging had been completely banned, in or out. Even if it hadn't been, everything that made it through the tight cordon of censorship surrounding her was monitored scrupulously. She had no reason to think any outgoing messages would be treated differently. Any message mentioning Reapers would never see the light of day once it left her hands.

There was nothing she could do, and it was driving her crazy.

She was still curled up at the edge of the couch, watching ANN24, when Nathan brought her evening meal. She nodded to him in greeting and received a quick "ma'am" in return, then returned her attention to the vidscreen and her frustration. She barely noticed him lay the tray down on her dining table or head back towards the door, but before he made it across the room he stopped, turned around to face her and folded his arms across his chest.

"Shepard. What's the matter?" he asked grudgingly.

She looked up at him in surprise, more from the fact that he had asked that question than that he had noticed something was up. "Huh?"

He waved an arm in her general direction. "You're brooding. You've got the same expression on your face as when you fell off the treadmill the other day. I can't leave you here alone if you're going to fall off the bloody couch or something."

"Fall off the-" She raised her head and sat up, glaring at him. "I'm not going to—I didn't just fall off the treadmill, you startled me!"

He smirked. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Now spill. What's wrong?"

She frowned. She really didn't want to have this conversation with him. It made her tired just thinking about it. "Nothing's wrong," she replied, keeping her voice level with an effort and avoiding looking at him. She stood up and moved around the back of the couch then set to work unwrapping her dinner. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" he persisted.

Her temper flared. Really? After all the work he had been putting in to keeping his distance from her, nowhe wanted to know what she was thinking? She wasn't in the mood for this. "Back off, Lieutenant," she warned him, looking up from her dinner prep and meeting his eyes with a glare.

He shrugged, and his own annoyance was plain. "Yes, ma'am," he said a little too fervently, then sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole. It's my job to look out for your… mental state. I have to tell your doctor about this."

She grit her teeth and felt her glare intensify. They were all treating her like a goddamn child. Nathan shrugged again and turned to leave.

Abruptly, as she watched the only person she could talk to walk out, she deflated. She was letting her frustration get the better of her. He was just doing his job. He had even tried to make her laugh, which had to have taken some effort on his part.

"Wait," she called.

Reluctantly, she explained her fear that the quarians were preparing to start a war. She left out any mention of Reapers, but told him how worried she was for Tali and how devastating such a war would be for the quarians. Aware that he probably only knew the Council-approved version of Sovereign's attack on the Citadel – the one that claimed Sovereign was a geth ship – she also left out any mention of her worries for the geth.

To her mild surprise, she noted something akin to sympathy in his expression as he listened. It wasn't quite pity, which she was grateful for, although she knew she was probably highly pitiable in her current situation. He did seem to be making an effort to lose the hostility she had first sensed from him, though.

"I really want to talk to Tali," she finished. "I'm… not used to being out of the loop. I can't do anything in here."

He nodded. "I understand," he said quietly. "But I can't get any messages out for you."

She shook her head and sighed. "I wasn't asking."

He studied her for a while. Agitated, she resumed her food prep. Finally, he continued. "I'll try and find out what I can, though. I can't guarantee anything."

Surprised, she looked up at him and felt a warm trickle of gratitude. She hadn't expected that. She hadn't expected any of this, really. The sympathetic ear, or the offer of help. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, what it meant, but she appreciated it. "Thank you," she replied, and the weight on her shoulders lifted by a feather. He grunted and left her to her dinner.

A couple of weeks later, Shepard had been staring out the window at the bustling terrace below, watching the office workers go about their lives with something uncomfortably close to envy when her door slid open. Nathan entered, but he wasn't alone. Following close behind was Admiral Anderson.

"Anderson!" she exclaimed, hopping down from her perch at the window and hurrying over to take his offered hand.

Nathan turned to leave, and as he did she caught a hint of a satisfied smile. He locked the door behind himself as he left the room.

"Shepard, it's good to see you," Anderson replied, a warm grin lightening his features as he shook her hand.

She waved him over to the couch with a grin of her own. "What brings you here, sir?" she asked.

"I need a reason to visit a friend?"

She threw him a wry look. "Just in the neighbourhood, were you?"

Anderson sobered. "I wanted to check up on you. You know it, I know it, let's not sugar coat it. How are you holding up in here, Shepard?"

She propped her arm up on the back of the couch and tucked a leg underneath her. "As well as I can, sir," she replied.

"That's not an answer."

She sighed. "I guess not. It's… hard, Anderson. I'm out of the loop. I'm stuck in here and I have no idea what's going on out there."

He nodded. "I understand. Your Lieutenant told me something along those lines as well."

She raised an eyebrow. "My—You mean Nathan? Lieutenant Briggs? My guard? You spoke to him?"

"Of course. He asked me to come and visit you. He didn't tell you?"

She shook her head. Huh.

"Something made him think he could get away with telling me that although he knew I was very busy and important, I should make the time to see you. The man can be a bit of a smartass."

An amused smile twisted at her lips. "Yes, he can."

Anderson shifted, mimicking her posture. "How's he working out, anyway?"

Shepard shrugged. "He's fine. He clearly didn't want to be anywhere near me to start with, but I think he's started to get over that now."

"He's doing his job then? I had a quick chat with his CO here and she's happy with his work. Are you?"

She gave him a look. "You want me to give him a performance evaluation?" Anderson returned her look with one of his own and she tossed him a wry grin. "I'm happy with his work, Anderson. I don't think he's too pleased about being here, but he does his job well. You're a case in point. I think he asked you to come here because of a conversation we had the other day."

She explained about her conversation with Nathan, and how she had revealed her worry for Tali and the quarians and her frustration at being stuck in a cell while the galaxy moved on without her. To her never ending gratitude Anderson then sat with her for the next hour, discussing the quarians and the geth and a myriad of other issues she hadn't heard about. She noticed he was tempering what he told her a little, declining to explain some things in full and the like, but she was happy to let it go and take what she could get.

To her great relief, Anderson explained that the quarians had recalled all of their people, but they hadn't moved to initiate any wars just yet. He had been in contact with Tali, in fact, and was confident she was working hard to convince her government of the Reaper threat. When he finished, the feeling that she had to get in contact with Tali as soon as possible had subsided somewhat. She still wanted to speak to her friend, of course, but now she knew that she wasn't in any immediate danger she felt a little better about not being able to do so right away.

When Anderson had told her all he could think of, she felt that weight on her shoulders lift by another couple of feathers. The galaxy hadn't imploded without her. She had allies working towards the same goals she was – Anderson and Admiral Hackett had both continued her efforts to convince the Council and Alliance Command that the Reapers were a threat. Garrus, Tali, Liara and Grunt had all been working on their own governments, and Garrus had even made some headway with his. All was not lost. Not yet.

After Anderson left, she revelled in the feeling that although it felt like it sometimes, she wasn't alone in this.

When Nathan arrived with her meal that evening she was waiting. "So, you ordered an Admiral to change his schedule, did you, Briggs?" she teased lightly.

The back of his neck turned a dark rosy colour as she watched. "I didn't order him. I didn't think he would listen at all," he grumbled, clearly embarrassed at being called on his good deed. "Look, it was that or tell your doctor you'd been feeling depressed and get you dragged out to see a shrink. I figured you'd prefer the Admiral." He set her tray down and turned to face her, as if daring her to keep making fun of him.

She felt her posture relax and something in her chest soften a little under that stare. "Briggs, thank you," she said, without a hint of teasing in her voice.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the floor. "You're welcome," he finally replied.

About three weeks after Admiral Anderson's visit, Nathan arrived for his shift to find a message awaiting him at the central duty station. Shepard was being called to meet with the Defence Committee at 0800 this morning, apparently. It was a little early for a meeting, but she was usually up long before that anyway. He glanced at the chrono. 0658. Just before his shift was due to start. She was probably already up. He would have plenty of time to warn her.

He relieved the night shift guard of his position outside Shepard's door and waited, sinking back onto his heels comfortably and staring down the corridor at nothing in particular. Idly he wondered what the summons was for. Something relating to her trial, no doubt. Perhaps they finally had a hearing date for her.

That would make her happy. Anderson's visit had buoyed her mood somewhat, but he could tell she was still going stir-crazy at being stuck in limbo while she waited. She hadn't opened up again after the conversation that had prompted him to contact Anderson, and he could see the tension lines around her eyes and mouth, the tiny cracks in her calm facade. The dark circles he had noticed under her eyes when he first met her hadn't faded, either – if anything they'd become even more pronounced. He hoped Anderson's visit hadn't just acted as a reminder of what she couldn't have.

He was surprised to find that when he looked at her now he wasn't simply assessing her condition in order to confirm her physical and mental wellbeing as part of his job. He actually wanted her to be well. The hostility he had felt toward her when he first transferred to this position was beginning to fade, and he was even grudgingly starting to appreciate her company. He was cautiously happy about the change, but he still found himself constantly conflicted every time he relaxed his guard enough to joke with her or laugh at one of her wry comments. It didn't show itself too often, but she had a cracker of a dry wit. He was sick of always feeling like he was betraying all those dead Batarians every time he smiled at her.

But the question of her motivations for causing the deaths of said Batarians still needled at him. Her reaction to the possibility of a war between the quarians and the geth had convinced him that she wouldn't have made such a decision lightly, but why had she done it? Did she regret it?

He checked his omnitool's chrono. 0724.

He shuffled a little closer to the door and cocked an ear, straining to listen. He didn't hear anything. He hadn't heard any movement at all so far this morning, in fact, which was unusual. Normally Shepard was awake and moving around in her cell by the time he arrived for his shift. The last thing he wanted to do was barge into her room and wake her up himself, but if he didn't hear something soon he might have to.

0732. Nothing.

0745. Still nothing.

Grumbling, he hit the door release and stepped into Shepard's room. The shutters were drawn over the window, leaving the room in darkness. When the door closed behind him, the only light remaining came from his omnitool. In the dim orange glow at first glance the room appeared to be empty. Then his eyes fell on the bed, and an elongated figure beneath the sheets. Inwardly he winced. The fact that she was still sleeping was probably a good thing overall – he knew she needed it – but he still felt keenly that he had intruded on her private space.

Shepard was laying on her side, facing toward him, hair falling messily over one side of her face. One hand had snaked up under her pillow, while the other rested on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were curled inwards and her legs beneath the sheet were almost gracefully splayed out on the mattress.

He caught his breath as he took a closer look at her face, squinting in the low light. Her expression was anything but relaxed. Her forehead was creased and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She was grimacing, and now that he was looking more closely, she appeared deathly still. It almost looked as though she wasn't breathing.

He hurried over quickly, concerned, but stopped himself with at least a couple of metres between himself and the bed. Her shoulders had lifted slightly, almost imperceptibly. She was breathing. Hopefully she was just having a bad dream.

He rubbed his nose. He knew firsthand how violent trained soldiers could be if startled out of a deep sleep. He made sure she had plenty of space, just in case, then hesitantly called, "Shepard?"

Her eyes blinked open and she sucked in a quick gasping breath, disoriented. She did nothing but breathe for a moment, groggy, then focused on him. "Briggs… I… what time is it?" she asked, voice heavy with sleep.

He shifted into something resembling parade rest and studiously lifted his eyes to the wall on the other side of the bed in an attempt to give her a sliver of privacy. "It's almost 0800," he told her. "The Defence Committee would like to see you."

"Oh," she murmured sleepily and pulled herself into a sitting position, running a hand through her hair. Her hair was longer than he had expected – it hung down to her shoulder blades and fell haphazardly over her face. She was wearing a shirt and shorts, both twisted out of place. She couldn't have slept well. It was obviously taking some effort to gather herself. "Thank you. I'll be ready by then," she replied.

He hesitated before leaving, unsure if he wanted to ask the question or not. "Shepard… Are you all right? It looked like you were… dreaming."

Oh, crap. Ugh. As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back. Asking if she was okay was fine, but why did he go and ask her about her dreams? Dreams were usually very private. Out of bounds. He opened his mouth to backtrack, but she beat him to it.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant," she snapped, eyes flashing. "You can leave. I'll be ready shortly."

Fuck. He had definitely overstepped his bounds. "Yes ma'am," he said quickly, and ducked out of the room.

That look on her face had been disquieting, though. That grimace. What had she been dreaming about? He shouldn't have asked her about it, but…

He shook his head. No. The things she had been through… He probably didn't want to know.

Perhaps she had just inadvertently answered his question about remorse.

After about ten minutes, he heard the muffled slap of a palm on the locked door. He opened it, and she strode out, impatiently waiting for him to lock the door behind her before heading straight for the Committee chambers. She had dressed in full BDU's and her hair was pulled up into a thick tail at the back of her head. He hurried to keep up, at least trying to maintain some semblance of doing his job and escorting her. Luckily in this, his height gave him the advantage, and he was able to catch up quickly.

It didn't end up making a difference though. When they reached the council chambers she was ushered straight in and he was left to wait outside. Resigned, he found an empty bench and sat, leaning his head back against the wall to wait.

Two hours later Shepard emerged. She did not look happy.

He made to stand as she came over, but she waved him down and sat heavily on the bench beside him. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes.

Well, he wasn't going to make the same mistake as he had this morning by opening his idiot mouth. He leaned back and sat with her in silence, slipping back into his role as her guard and starting to watch people a little more carefully.

He saw no threats – he hadn't really expected to – but the hostile expressions on some of their faces as they noticed Shepard made him uncomfortable. Most were polite and either nodded in his direction or completely ignored him and the Commander both, but a few stared quite openly at her. He kept a keen eye on their expressions, witnessing as they started with recognition, then inevitably flitted to either pity or disgust. Sometimes even outright anger.

He wanted to say something a couple of times, but kept his mouth shut. What could he possibly say to defend her? Anything he said would be easily countered by a thorough 'yes, but mass murder!' and the argument would be over before it had even started. Would she even want to be defended? Somehow he doubted it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You looked at me like that when you first arrived," came a murmur from beside him.

He glanced over at her sharply. His discomfort must have been more obvious than he thought it had been. Her lids were hooded, but she had been watching. He made to protest, albeit half-heartedly because he knew she was right, but she continued.

"You did. Lots of people do." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter right now."

"You don't care?" he asked, surprise warring with regret over his initial treatment of her and how perceptive of it she had obviously been.

She sat up and leaned her elbows on her thighs, interlacing her fingers and staring at the ground between her boots. "I… don't like it," she admitted. "But when I'm sitting in here instead of out there," she waved a hand in the general direction of the sky, and space beyond, "it doesn't really make a difference what people think of me, does it?"

"I suppose not," he replied quietly, taking note of the bitterness in her voice. He had been right before – Anderson's visit had helped, but she was still keenly feeling her isolation.

Pushing off her thighs, she stood up and looked at him. "I'd like to head out to the terrace for a while."

"Yes ma'am," he replied. The two of them walked together through the halls, and this time she let him keep up with her. They walked through the senior officer detention centre wing and then out through a side door tucked away between two of the cells. The door lead to a narrow hall, and another door. Through that was the terrace.

It was a beautiful place. White stone lined raised garden beds filled with flowers, green grass and even the occasional small tree. Wind rustled through the trees and the grass, a soft, calming sound. He caught the scent of freshly mown grass and something floral on the wind.

Old style wooden park benches were scattered around in various places. Shepard chose one near one of the small trees and close to the edge of the terrace. The balcony overlooked a lake far below, the surface of which shimmered with the reflection of the sun.

Nathan took up a position nearby, beneath the tree. Normally he wouldn't have placed himself quite so close, but he sensed she would appreciate the company today.

When she didn't speak, he decided to fill the silence himself, hoping he wouldn't say the wrong thing this time. "Ma'am, if you don't mind me asking, what happened in there?" he asked carefully.

She sighed, and for a moment he thought he had done it again. But then she replied in a calm, albeit frustrated voice, "They wanted me to go over the evidence with them."

"Go over the evidence? But you turned yourself in, didn't you? You're going to plead guilty? They shouldn't need too much evidence for that."

She looked up at him sharply, and he could see her mind working, evaluating. The sun shining through the leaves of the nearby tree set dappled shadows over her face. She paused for a long time before replying. "Not the evidence against me. There's a… threat out there. One they need to know about. Understand. Start preparing for," she explained reluctantly.

"A threat? What do you mean?" he asked, confused. Was she talking about the Collectors? Sure, they had been a threat for a time, kidnapping whole human colonies and harassing the border. But that had all stopped a few months ago, which kept with the Collectors' established pattern. They would show themselves every few years, then retreat again only to emerge in another few years. There was nothing particularly worrying about that, other than the obvious need to step up patrols and shore up defences in certain areas. Were they back again? Making another push?

Could this perhaps have something to do with the dream he had interrupted this morning? He watched her, hoping she would elaborate.

Shepard held his eyes, studying his reaction. She wasn't sure how much she should tell him – in fact, she had probably already said too much. It was vitally important that the governments of the galaxy know about and understand the Reaper threat, but the last thing she wanted to do was start a panic by allowing it to get out to the general public in an uncontrolled manner. It would only scare people prematurely. They would need to know about it soon, but too soon and they would start doing stupid things in the name of trying to save themselves.

Nathan Briggs did not seem like the type to fly off into a panic, though. Nor was he the type to tell all his friends. She had only known him for a short amount of time – and for a lot of that time he had clearly disliked her, even if that had recently changed – but her gut told her he could be trusted. He had a solid, stable presence. He could be flippant at times, but the way he conducted himself in his duty as her personal guard gave her confidence in him. Even now, safely ensconced behind layers of security at Alliance HQ, he had placed himself between her and the door, close to the cover of a raised garden bed and near enough to the balcony that he would be able to see any threats from that direction before they got too close.

And yet… if she told him, it would only put him in the same position she was. Knowing something big was coming, something with the goal of wiping out all intelligent life in the galaxy, but powerless to do anything about it. What was the point of that? Having someone nearby to confide in would be nice, but she couldn't do that to him.

She sat back on the bench with a resigned sigh and gazed out over the balcony at the lake below. After a while, she gave him the only response she could think of. "It's classified, Briggs. I'm sorry."

Nathan let out a huff of laughter and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course it was classified. He should have known that was the answer he would get. It was frustrating but there was nothing to do but laugh about it.

He smiled ruefully. "You know, that's the worst thing about holding a conversation with a senior officer," he commented drily. "No matter what you're talking about, something will always turn out to be classified. Even if you're talking about tomorrow's weather report. Suddenly they'll come out with," he switched to his best Admiral Hackett impression, "'Er, well, I'd like to tell you more about the chance of rain tomorrow but I'm afraid that's highly classified and I'd have to kill you.' And boom, there goes the conversation."

Shepard looked a bit shocked for a moment, then suddenly snorted and dissolved into laughter. Surprised, he grinned back. Did she just snort? He hadn't thought it was quite that funny but he would take what he could get. Between breaths, she managed to ask, "Was that supposed to be Admiral Hackett?"

"Well, I tell you this only because you can't write me up at the moment, ma'am, but yes, it may have been Admiral Hackett," he confirmed sheepishly.

"God, you sound exactly like him. Shepard, someone lost a puppy on a remote colony at the ass end of the Terminus systems, go check it out, would you? Hackett out. That was terrible, Briggs. Terrible. Don't do that again," she mock-chastised, chuckling. "Only, please do."

He burst into laughter. His impression had been bad but hers was a thousand times worse."Your wish is my command, ma'am," he agreed cheerfully.