A/N: Thank you all for reading, favoriting, following and reviewing.

Tuffet37, Vulpixer, divadevi8808, Shootingstar7123, Detective-Mason, M-Angel 05, Guest, Suilven, MelShep and Tamy2323: thank you for letting me know that you enjoyed the last chapter; it means a lot.:)

Huge thanks to KabiViolet for beta reading and to Tuffet37 for her help with some military issues in this chapter!

TrueBlackRoses: I hope you'll enjoy the Vega part—it was inspired by your review. ;)

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect and its characters.

For the sixth time that night, the air conditioner kicked in with a soft purr, and Shepard startled awake again. She must have finally drifted off to a real sleep before, for this time it took her brain a few seconds to realize that the noise hadn't come from the warm body of a snoring turian lying in her bed. Her hand stopped its fruitless search and flopped down onto the pillow with a disappointed thud, and she opened her eyes to stare dejectedly into the darkness.

A glance at the radio clock on the nightstand confirmed her suspicion: it was 2:30 in the morning—too late for mere catnaps, but too early to get up and call it a night.

She'd been tossing and turning ever since she'd collapsed into bed, exhausted and emotionally drained after one of the hardest days of her life, hoping for a welcome escape from the harshness of her new reality. The mattress, however, felt too soft, the air in the room too warm, and her mind couldn't stop churning over the events of the last twenty-four hours.

She wondered how the others were doing. Had Thane talked to his son? Had Jack paid a visit to Anderson, like she'd suggested, to find out about opportunities for a powerful biotic in the Alliance? Was Legion back with his own people?

And how about Garrus? Had he been able to request an audience with the turian councilor? Was he in his bed right now, staring up at the ceiling, just like she was at the moment, or was he asleep, his body twitching periodically, his fingers curling around an invisible gun?

Damn, she missed him already. She wished they were all back on the Normandy, so she could go down to the battery or call him up on the intercom, tell him about the doctor with the worst bedside manner she'd ever had the misfortune to encounter, and joke about the glaring eyes of Admiral Mikhailovich as he interrogated her for three hours.

They'd have a drink together, he would make some wisecracks about all those damned bureaucrats, and she would laugh until her side hurt. She'd settle down by his side, rest her head on his shoulder, and he'd take her hand and squeeze it lightly.

She tried to relax and go back to sleep, but she was unable to do so. Finally, after a few useless minutes of counting sheep, she gave up on this impossible task and sat up. She was all awake now—she might as well do something more productive than just lie here in bed and feel sorry for herself.

Not that there was much she could do at the moment, locked up in this room all alone, with no working terminal or a single datapad in sight. Even her omni-tool had been stripped of most of its functionality: her extranet access, hacking programs, tech powers—they'd all been disabled, leaving her with nothing more than a glorified flashlight and a limited-capability personal computer.

She would have given anything to be able to video chat with Garrus right now, but of course that was out of the question. Still, she'd promised to send him a message as soon as she could, and as long as she wasn't able to get any shut-eye anyway, she could at least get started on that.

Satisfied that now she had a plan of action, she turned on the lights, fired up her omni-tool, and began to write.

Garrus,

I don't know when I'll be able to send this message, since they locked down my extranet access, but I expect that sooner or later I'll be permitted to exchange mail with friends and family.

My surrender went smoothly—though I wouldn't exactly call being poked and prodded in a medical facility a wonderful experience. I guess it's understandable, given the circumstances, to check for a DNA match and make sure that I'm not a clone or an impostor, and I suppose that if I were in their shoes, I would scan for any Cerberus tracking device or control chip as well. Nevertheless, I could have done without the snarky remarks and shitty attitude about my cybernetic implants and my cooperation with the enemy.

Once I was finally released from the cold clutches of Dr. Noonseng, the real "fun" began. You wouldn't believe the bureaucratic bullshit I had to go through to get my status changed from KIA to Alive just so that I could be subjected to a rather lengthy debriefing by Admiral Fucking Mikhailovich. Remember him? Remember his hissy fit when he couldn't get his hands on the Normandy SR-1? Well, he got his wish now—they took away my ship, and I'm pretty sure he's going to claim it for his own fleet. That fucking asshole.

I'm under house arrest while they investigate the scans and the files I submitted about the Collectors and the Reapers. Once the brass have gone through those, there will be some hearings about Bahak and our findings. I know it won't bring back the people who died when the relay was destroyed, but all the evidence we've accumulated should at least make everybody realize that the Reaper threat is real. Maybe they'll finally start doing something about it.

The good news is that I'm not in some godforsaken military prison. They've put me up in a rather nice suite at Alliance Headquarters. I'm locked up and I have a guard, but at least I have a good-sized room and my own bath. I can only hope that they've extended the same courtesy to Joker, Dr. Chakwas, Ken and Gabby.

Take care of yourself, Garrus. I'll need you by my side when I get out of here.

Shepard

Her finger automatically moved to the Send button and hovered there for a moment before she remembered the futility of that motion. She saved the message instead, turned off her omni-tool and the lights, and settled back down on her pillow. It took her another twenty minutes, but she eventually drifted off to sleep and didn't wake up again until the alarm went off at 0600 hours.

Shepard stormed into her quarters and chucked the datapad detailing the terms of her punishment and incarceration at her bed. It landed on the mattress with a disappointingly soft thump, doing nothing in the slightest to ease the frustration and rage that had built up in her gut during her heated argument with the admirals at her tribunal.

Her hands clenched into tight, angry fists as she began to pace in the middle of the room. She should have known that it wasn't going to be so easy. She should have known that they wouldn't believe her; most of these people were so entrenched in their views and had their heads so far up their asses that not even a signed declaration of intent from the Reapers could have convinced them that what they were facing was indeed real and not a "figment of her overactive imagination", as Admiral Otoki had so condescendingly put it.

"Have you actually looked at the files I submitted?" Shepard had demanded, grabbing the desk in front of her and squeezing its edges so hard that the furious marks they'd left in her palms were still visible an hour later.

"What these 'Collectors' did was despicable," Mikhailovich had growled, curving his fingers into the same irritating air quotes that the turian councilor had always used, "but it doesn't mean that they were working with the 'Reapers' towards the annihilation of the whole galaxy. And yet, your wild ideas and irresponsible acts have resulted in the destruction of an entire solar system and have almost cost us a war with the batarians."

Shepard stopped her pacing and walked up to her bed to pick up the datapad and scan through the verdict again. The admirals might have been boneheaded and unsympathetic, but at least they'd refused the Batarian Hegemony's demands for her extradition. Moreover, as Admiral Kowalski had begrudgingly informed her, she got away with mere incarceration instead of a full-blown court martial, and she could thank Councilor Anderson's charm and negotiating skills for that.

They had also afforded her a little more freedom than before. She was allowed to go to the gym and the library now, and she could receive a limited number of visitors—only family and Alliance personnel, all under supervision, of course. She could request a holo projector to watch vids from a pre-approved list; outside communication, however, was still strictly prohibited.

She wished these new allowances included a shot of whiskey or two—she could have really used some stress release at the moment.

That particular thought didn't help; she missed Garrus now more than ever. Not just for the amazing sex that had always managed to drain every bit of frustration out of her system, but more so for his companionship and understanding that had become such an important part of her life.

She dropped the datapad onto the bed and sank down next to it, and after a moment of hesitation she brought up her omni-tool to write yet another undeliverable message.

Garrus,

I sure hope you're having better luck with your people than I'm having with mine.

I've just come back from my last hearing with a bunch of stuck-up admirals, and I swear, it's like talking to a wall. I know it's hard to imagine such a formidable opponent, especially when you haven't seen them yourself, but dammit, we can't just ignore the threat and hope for the best; we have to do something NOW. There's a whole galaxy on our hands, unprepared and vulnerable, and I'm afraid that it will take the damn Reapers to show up for everybody to realize what's at stake here.

I want to be out there, screaming and yelling, until SOMEBODY will listen, but I'm grounded until further notice, locked up in this room and unable to do anything but stare out the window and watch life go by.

My extranet access is still disabled, and I have no idea when I can finally send my messages to you. If you've tried to contact me, it was most likely blocked; apparently they still don't trust that I won't betray the Alliance to Cerberus "again".

I wish you were here, Garrus. I miss you.

Shepard

Kicking and punching a bag to her heart's content in the gym felt like heaven after having been limited to pushups and sit-ups in her room, but it was nothing like the workout she used to get while away on a mission. She missed the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the camaraderie, and she longed to feel the cool, smooth metal of her sniper rifle in her hands.

She let out a loud grunt as she increased the intensity of her jabs, releasing her pent-up energy and taking out all her frustrations on the poor equipment. The chain creaked and the leather cover damn near cracked open as she landed one hit after another, until she ran out of steam and finally stopped, tired and sweaty and out of breath. She took big, hungry gulps of air as she wrapped her arms around the bag and leaned against it, as much for her own support as to prevent it form swinging back and forth.

"Nice form," Lieutenant Vega quipped behind her.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she glanced back at her guard; she'd almost forgotten about him. He grinned at her, making a show of sliding his eyes down her body and back up again.

Anybody else would have received a hard punch to their jaw by now, or at the very least encountered the famous "Shepard Glare", but for some reason she could never get mad at James.

"Do you flirt like that with all your charges, Lieutenant?" She let go of the bag and grabbed her towel to wipe the glistening sweat off her brow.

His grin widened into a mischievous smile as he pushed away from the wall that he'd been leaning against, his arms crossed in front of his massive chest. "Only the good-looking ones."

She laughed and wrapped the towel around her neck. He was a nice kid, really. Not much for formalities or tact, but definitely much more fun than anybody else she'd met since she'd entered Alliance Headquarters all those weeks ago.

"You're so full of shit, Vega."

"Who, me?"

"Yep."

She headed out of the gym to go back to her room and take a shower, and he dutifully followed.

"You're watching my ass, aren't you?" she asked, not even bothering to look back.

"Maybe."

She laughed again and punched the button to call the elevator down. If they ever let her out of this place and gave her ship back, she was definitely going to ask him if he wanted to join her crew.

The ride up was spent in silence. James kept a respectful distance as he watched her in the small cabin, her back straight and her eyes unblinking as she stared at an invisible spot on the wall. He wondered what might have brought on the change in her demeanor; she seemed sad and pensive all of a sudden, her previous good mood all but gone.

When they arrived at her door, she walked in without a word and he took up his usual position outside her quarters. This guard duty shit was one of the most boring jobs he'd ever had to do. If it wasn't for Commander Shepard, he would have asked to be transferred a long time ago. He just wished it was under better circumstances; he would have given anything to work with her one day.

If they ever let her out of this place and gave her ship back, he was definitely going to ask her if he could join her crew.

Shepard leaned her hands against the smooth surface of the shower stall and closed her eyes as the hot water beat down on her back. The temperature was fluctuating again, rising to nearly unbearable levels at times, but she barely noticed the harsh little pinpricks of the strong sprays as they rushed out from the overhead faucet, pummeling her skin and running down her legs, only to disappear into the drain below.

James's flirting had brought up memories of another day, another place, and even though she had decided a long time ago that it was no use dwelling on the past or torturing herself with silly what-ifs, her brain refused to stop replaying the same thoughts over and over again.

It took her a few more minutes to finally come to a decision to tackle her obsession head-on. She turned off the water and reached for her towel to get dry. It was time to write another message again.

Hey Garrus,

Do you remember all that shameless flirting we did on Illium when we were trying to find Samara and Thane? It was silly and unprofessional, but it was one of the best days of my life. In fact, come to think of it, most of my fondest memories are of things we did together.

Sorry, I don't mean to get emotional and sentimental here, I just miss you. I miss being with you.

I wonder if you still have the files Mordin sent us. You know, those "visual aids" he put together to help us relieve tension? I never really had the time to look at any of it, and I'd deleted them all before I surrendered myself to the Alliance. The last thing I needed was for them to add "xenophile pervert" to the list of my sins.

Now I sort of wish I hadn't been so quick to get rid of them. If I don't have the luxury of having the real thing here, I wouldn't mind watching those vids now. You know, for educational purposes—wink, wink. Hell, who am I kidding? It would be for stress release, haha.

Whenever I get out of here, we'll have to make up for all this time that we've lost.

Well, provided you still want me... I don't want to presume... Maybe you've met somebody else by now. A flexible recon scout perhaps?

It's not like we promised anything to each other, and you're out there, single and free, so I'd understand if that was the case, but... I really hope it isn't.

I think I'd better stop now before I make an even bigger fool of myself.

I miss you, Garrus. More than I can say.

Take care.

Shepard

The days passed a little faster now that she could work out in the gym and entertain herself with some books and holo vids, but there were still too many empty hours in a day. She missed taking her rounds on the Normandy and talking to her team, especially to Garrus, and she tried to make up for that by writing to him as soon as she had anything new to say. It wasn't the same, but at least she could pretend that she still had a connection to him.

When her mother came to see her, she almost asked her to forward her messages to Garrus's extranet address. Their conversation, however, was monitored, and besides, putting her own mother into a difficult position by asking her to compromise her integrity was out of the question, so they talked about Cerberus and the Collectors instead. Hannah Shepard listened intently to everything her daughter told her, and promised to do whatever she could to convince those who were willing to listen to prepare for the coming war.

Anderson came by two weeks later to let her know that he had resigned as the first human councilor in order to devote his time to getting as much of the Alliance troops ready for the invasion as was at all possible. He had Hackett's full support, which helped, and the two of them had managed to slowly turn a few other high ranking officials over to their side. They began to stockpile weapons and equipment, ratcheted up the Alliance's recruitment efforts in order to pull in as many new soldiers as they could, and started to fortify vulnerable positions on far-away colonies.

Sitting on her hands, doing nothing, while there were all these preparations to be made, drove the commander—well, former commander—crazy. All she could do at this point was keep in shape both physically and mentally, and she soon came to the conclusion that if they were to beat such a formidable enemy, they were going to need the whole galaxy's cooperation. Energized by finally having a sense of direction, she began raiding the library's books and datapads about the history, culture and politics of the different council races. They didn't do much for entertainment, but she hoped that they would at least prove useful in providing some insight about how best to approach her future efforts of building an intergalactic alliance.

There was a section of old, printed books in the far-off corner of the room that she found quite soothing when she browsed for something new to read. She remembered Kasumi's love of old romance novels, and she started to understand her feelings a little better now; she had to admit that there was something comforting about the smell and feel of these remnants of the past. These texts, however, couldn't have been farther away from the steamy love stories that the thief adored so much. They were dry and boring, but Shepard vowed to read through as many of them as she could.

She picked up a volume that, judging by a thick layer of dust, hadn't been touched in ages but seemed to have gotten quite a lot of reads in its time. The cover was well-worn and the pages showed signs of having been turned over hundreds of times before. The title didn't seem that interesting; it was something about the military history of the Turian Hierarchy, promising lists of wars and skirmishes spanning a thousand years.

She wondered why such a boring read would have been so popular, and she began to leaf through the publication with mild interest. It didn't take longer than a few paragraphs, however, for her to realize that the book within was not the one the cover had been made for.

Her throat went dry and her cheeks turned red as her eyes drank in the story about a turian soldier and a human infiltrator stuck together, alone in the wilderness, all their collective troops gone after a desperate fight during the First Contact War. They had to overcome their animosity and learn to cooperate in order to survive, and soon they were fighting a losing battle of mutual attraction that lead to the most stimulating sex scenes she'd ever read in her entire life.

She wondered who had switched the covers of these two books and whether this person knew how it really felt to have a warm, textured turian tongue caress the most sensitive parts of your body. The writer, a certain "Agnes Merriweather", certainly seemed to know what she was talking about, and just reading about it all made Shepard's heart race and her insides turn to fire.

She was about to find out whether Tassius was going to take Emma from the front or from behind this time when James appeared by her side and tried to take a peek at what had her at such rapt attention.

"Found something good?" he asked. He wasn't much for reading such heavy stuff, but he was bored out of his mind and anything had to be better than standing by the wall and counting the minutes as they crawled by.

Shepard slammed the book shut and clutched it close to her chest. "Uh, well, it's a... it's a... umm, it's pretty boring. Should help me go to sleep tonight." She chuckled awkwardly and scanned the code on the back of the cover with her omni-tool. "I'm taking it with me."

She checked out a few more books and datapads for show and hurried back to her room. She had some serious reading to do.

Five months. She'd been locked up in this damned room for five months, and she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to take it.

She sat in her chair by the window, turning her face towards the weak rays of the afternoon sun, soaking up the little warmth that managed to make it through the thick glass. It was a lonely existence, living in this place all by herself, while life went on without her out there. She had good days and bad days, and today was certainly one of the latter.

Her communication with the outside world was still strictly restricted, but she refused to believe that she would never be able to talk to Garrus again. So, she opened up her omni-tool and began writing her message of the day.

Dear Garrus,

I had a dream about you last night. You kissed me and made that purring sound that I like so much, and we made love. I was happier than I'd ever been since I came here.

Then I woke up and you weren't there, and I wanted to punch somebody.

I'm starting to wonder if I made a mistake by giving myself up. I'm tired of not being able to do anything. I'm tired of being lonely. I'm tired of not knowing how you're doing. I asked Anderson about you, but he had no information whatsoever for me.

I want to wake up next to you, Garrus. I want to feel your hand on my skin, I want to feel you inside me, I want to run my fingers along the patches of soft hide between your admirably tough plates. I just... I want you.

And I can't help but wonder if you think about me once in a while?

Forgive me, I know I'm being selfish and foolish. The Reapers are coming, I have no doubt about that. And yet, here I am, sitting in a warm and comfortable room, and all I do is whine about being alone.

But damnit, five months is a long time to go without... you know. You.

Anyway, that's all for now. I'm going to get back to a wonderful book I found in the library. I basically know it by heart by now, but I still read it every day. It reminds me of us in a way.

I miss you so much.

Jane

Being a spacer all her life, spending six months in a closed environment shouldn't have bothered her that much. Still, Shepard couldn't help but miss the variety going on different assignments had always provided. She would have given anything to be able to go outside, if only for a little while, but she had to make do with watching the clouds float by and the birds fly across the sky in intricate flocks from the window of her room.

She could see the rooftop of one of the buildings on the opposite side of the street, and she often observed a little boy playing over there. She was watching him run around in circles, holding a toy Alliance fighter in his hand, when the door behind her hissed open and James walked in. She expected him to be holding a tray loaded with her lunch, but this time he came empty-handed.

He looked serious, almost solemn, as he gave her a sharp salute.

"Commander, the Defense Committee wants to see you."