Chapter Thirty Nine: Been Down So Long, Forgot What the World Looks Like

Shepard's jail 'cell' wasn't in the same ballpark as most cells. It was basically a nice apartment that locked on the outside. He was allowed to go to the gym, but besides that he was kept in the apartment. He was on an Alliance base with a few other high-priority prisoners. Everyday Shepard was allowed to get the paper, and he was still occasionally on the front page. There was nothing in jail to do, but wait and remember. So that's exactly what Shepard did.

"Shepard, why'd you call us here?" The entire ground crew, Doctor Chakwas, and a few other nonessential members were gathered in the Normandy's lounge. Shepard had called everyone there, but didn't name a reason.

"Every Tuesday and Thursday is crew bonding. Welcome to the first of many fun nights," Shepard was facing the crewand smiled when a collective sigh made its way through the ranks of them. "I know it sounds like torture but we'll be doing fun stuff. For example, we are going to watch the latest Turian scary movie, Talons," Shepard smiled evilly and prepped the movie. Someone was popping popcorn, and the smell wafted through the room. When he turned back around, everyone was sitting on two large couches. There were pretty large spaces between everyone, but that would change as the terror was cranked up.

A half an hour into the movie, everyone was squished together. Shepard sat in the middle, and was being crushed by Tali on one side, and Grunt on the other. At scary parts both would grip his arms like he was the only thing holding them to the world. When Shepard glanced over, Garrus was completely alone. Probably because the movie was about a serial killer Turian.

Towards the end of the movie, almost everyone was shamelessly yelling at the movie. The ever oblivious cop was heading right into the talons of the killer, and the Normandy crew seemed to take it upon themselves to warn him. The ending was terrifying and mysterious, leaving everyone speechless for a couple minutes.

"So I hope everyone is up for Thursday's event," Shepard stood up after the movie and looked at his shell-shocked crew. "Have a good night," Shepard said in the best creepy voice he could muster, and left for his cabin.

This was one of his favorite memories aboard the SR-1, but the good was often marred by the bad.

"Jacob is dead, Miranda. He didn't disappear magically, he isn't hiding away somewhere. I killed him, and he isn't coming back. I'm sorry," Shepard stood in front of Miranda in her XO office. After he had been checked out of the med-bay. A couple people had told him that she was taking Jacob's death especially hard. When he had found her she was still in the denial stage. The XO of the Normandy couldn't be in denial. No matter how unfair it all was, she didn't get the luxury of being non-functional.

"I just keep thinking that he'll be up in the armory, and I can visit whenever I want. Then I remember," Miranda wasn't crying, Shepard didn't think she ever did, but this was close.

"It's okay to hate me. Truly it is, as long as I have your loyalty and respect. As long as you understand that I didn't have a choice. He attacked me, and was going to kill me. He was beyond compromise," Shepard had to keep himself from shuddering at the memory of liquefying his subordinate.

"Do you really think he was beyond compromise?" Miranda was studying him closely.

"Yes. Even if I had gotten him to stop, it would still be there. That idea that we couldn't get anything done due to lack of funding. It would've lurked in his mind, hell it would've lurked in my mind. He would've probably tried it again. Sad as this is, he chose his own fate," Shepard stood his ground to Miranda's scrutiny. Whether she consciously knew it or not, she was looking for weakness.

"You're right. What could've made him do it?" Miranda's relentless gaze continued to burn into Shepard's soul.

"His reasoning is noble, in a way. He wanted to do more stuff, help more people, save the galaxy twenty times over, but I was in his way. I stopped funding from Cerberus, rightly or wrongly, and he understood that there isn't much we can do without money. He understood that we were in limbo. Stuck between the Alliance's funds, and Cerberus' funds. If he could've gotten rid of me, you could've reconnected with the Illusive Man, gotten more money, and saved more people. His understanding of the situation isn't flawed, because that's where we are, right now," Shepard understood, respected even, Jacob's reasoning for wanting him dead. It wasn't personal.

"Makes sense, I guess. In the sort of horrible way that ruthless calculus makes sense," Miranda's eyes were clear now, no mist swirled in her irises. So Shepard started to leave, his work done, but Miranda called out again, "And for the record, I could never hate you,"

Thinking back on that particularly sad conversation, Shepard realized that it was still laced with good things.

"Hey Commander!" Lieutenant James Vega poked his head in Shepard's room. He called himself Shepard's bodyguard, but was really his prison guard. The Krogan-esque man was the biggest human Shepard had ever seen. Shepard was not a small person by any means of measurement. He was six foot and two hundred ten pounds, but James made him seem tiny. James was as wide as he was tall with muscle. Vega would've made Grunt jealous.

"Hey Lieutenant," Shepard sat up from lazily being sprawled across his bed. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to see if you want to play some cards," Vega smiled and held up a deck of cards. Shepard liked him. He kept Shepard company, was fun, and laughed at Shepard's jokes (which is one of the most important characteristics a person can have).

"Sure, I'm in the mood to kick someone's ass in a game," Shepard walked towards his kitchen table and got it ready. "You deal," he said, while settling down.

"So I got some information regarding your trial. Apparently it's been postponed again," James finished dealing before he spoke.

"Yah, no surprise there," Shepard's cards were abysmal.

"So you expected things to go so slow?" James looked up from his cards.

"Pretty much, I'll probably be in here till I'm a hundred and thirty. Playing cards with you, lying around all day, and eating whenever I want," Shepard was getting way too lazy for his liking.

"Suena bien, señor. I wish I could do that," Vega turned out to be good at Skyllian Five and won the first hand.

"You can, just get accused of a crime, and wallah," Shepard gestured to his apartment cell thing.

"Something tells me that anyone, but you, would go to actual jail. If I was accused of something, BAM! In the worst jail this side of Omega," James gave nothing away in his face, if he had a tell Shepard hadn't found it.

"That's probably true. I'm definitely not mad about my position, but it is frustrating. I should be fighting, and saving people. Not wasting away in Hell disguised as Heaven," Shepard lost again, and was done with poker. "Well I think I'm going to bed," the less Shepard did, the more tired he was.

"Alright, adios," James picked up his cards, and headed towards the door.

"One more thing. How long have I been in here?" Shepard didn't know the date. The days had blended together.

"Three months," James said, and then left. There was nothing to do in his prison, but remember and wait. So that's exactly what Shepard did.