I'm not sure what I was going for in this chapter, to be honest.

It just...is what it is, but not in a bad way.

Please continue reviewing!

xoxo

THR

Chapter 17

Your name is Admiral Steven Hackett and waking up early was a habit of yours.

You had lived most of your life not knowing when you would have to wake up again or for what reason. Until you obtained the rank of admiral, calls to duty at random times were frequent. Your life had been relatively peaceful for the past few months, though. However, you still enjoyed waking up in the early morning hours so you could look outside your penthouse windows. The false sun shone in the sky and a dusky blue sky changed into a pastel colored one.

Your penthouse, although more spacious than Shepard's, lacked the modern décor that was the staple for Presidium homes. You, unlike most humans, had grown up on Earth. Your family had had an appreciation for less stark home interiors. Interior design was hardly a hobby of yours, but you made sure that your environment at home was cozier and not austere like a mental institution.

Calming blues and taupes were the norm around your abode. The colors reminded you of Earth's beaches, which had been unregulated when you were a child. You could remember going back to a comfortable beach house and not having to worry about pollutant levels.

Things had changed, but this didn't stop you from bringing subtle reminders of your more relaxing past back into your life. Even if this included being choosy with paint swatches, you didn't care. Other than the nice inside, there wasn't much going on in the space around you.

You house may have been simple, but it was nice. Its format was similar to that of Shepard's as well. The only difference was the square footage. Its picturesque view also evoked emotions of an easier time as well. You found yourself staring out into it more often than you would have liked.

You weren't aware that a certain woman had the same habit.

Your name was Steven Hackett, and at six forty five Earth time you looked out onto the rising Presidium. Citizens were just waking up and you were already in full uniform. You adjusted your cap and then headed to the elevator. It was time for Shepard's hearing, and you were going to speak your mind this time. There was so much that you owed her, and this time the Council wasn't going to get away with pulling wool over your eyes for the second time. Something was amiss on the Citadel and you needed to know what it was, especially if it meant incarcerating someone so great.

Before you left, though, a particular memory entered your mind.

It also wasn't the most pleasant one, either.

"Shepard, you know that this is as difficult for me as it is for you."

Your name was Commander Liz Shepard and you had just been told how insane you allegedly were.

You had done nothing but help the man in front of you, and what you got in return was imprisonment in a foreign environment in order to recover. Had he even attempted to get you out of this mess when he had talked to your superiors? You doubted it.

He knew that you weren't crazy. He had known you longer than anyone on that corrupt governing council, anyway. Hell, even the Council knew you. They had never been hostile before.

Even if you were messed up liked they thought, you weren't still in a hospital like before. The war had ended months ago and PTSD didn't seem to be bothering you. It never had. You were fine.

How long had it been since you had been recovered, anyway?

You sighed and put your head in your hands. This wasn't something you could handle alone.

"I did all I could to organize a peaceful release, but the Council didn't want you—"

"Fuck what the Council thinks! If they think that they're going to keep me alone in this shithole of an apartment for the rest of my life, you can count on me not being there when they need their problems solved!"

The man in front of you shifted and you began to realize how ungrateful you sounded.

He was trying to help you, right? He had at least had the decency to come and visit you. The engagement had started with small talk which hadn't been successful. Now he was just bullshitting everything else to make you feel like these drastic measures weren't so bad.

The area around you was expansive yet cold and it was to be yours. According to him, this penthouse had been gifted to you from the Council. Their intentions seemed nice at first.

That is, until you found out about the house arrest conditions.

You hadn't even taken a tour of the place and you already hated it. Like a wild animal, you had to be able to roam where you pleased. It sounded like a basic privilege, and suddenly being stripped of it made you feel naked. You were no longer a person; you were a puppet that was being pulled up against its will by a panel of unfeeling bastards. Your gaze faltered and you started to take a look around the place that you were going to be calling home for a long time.

The white and grey interior around you was less than welcoming. All of the furniture was composed of white leather while all of the flooring was made of translucent white tile. There really weren't any real rooms; everything simply flowed together like a modern watercolor painting. If you glanced one way you could see a lackluster kitchen. It was filled with basic supplies and nothing more. Right now you were occupying the living room. The single interesting object in the entire vicinity was a state of the art television. You would soon find out that this entity along with your omni-tool would be your sole vessels for knowing about the outside world. Other than these things, the room was pretty bare. It would have been nice with some decorations and color.

Of course it lacked all of these things. There was a blank spot where a fireplace should have been and you wondered if they removed it in case you decided to light yourself on fire or something.

In the space between the kitchen and living room there was a set of table and chairs. There had to be at least ten places for people to sit, but it wasn't like you were going to be entertaining anything more than dust bunnies and inanimate objects.

A few doors covered the walls, and a contemporary glass staircase was perched near the most interesting part of the space: the floor to ceiling windows.

You came to realize that that window wall would become the bane of your existence. At that moment, you vowed that you would smash them open one day so you could feel the freshness of the Presidium again. You took this vow before realizing that you had a balcony, which was also suicide proofed.

"If I can't do anything to change their mind, this is going to be your arrangement until you indicate that you can handle leaving. You have a mental disorder, and although I don't agree with what they're doing, it's law." he continued. "My hands are tied."

Your outbursts no longer had an impact on him, but his had shocked you.

Handle?

Had he just spoken to you like you were a dependent child?

You stood up sharply and looked down at the man. His face was wrinkled and had once given you the kindest expressions. Now he was the enemy.

He had put you in here. Even if he technically didn't, he hadn't stopped who did.

"Admiral, I really don't give two shits about what the Council wants. I'm getting out of here and I don't care what they say. They don't own me or anyone else on here. I saved their asses!"

He looked up at you while you towered over him. You weren't sure if he was able to understand your power struggles.

"And besides, the law doesn't apply to me."

Your name was Commander Liz Shepard, and you had turned into a conceited and traumatized bitch again.

Your name was Garrus Vakarian and you were never good at handling awkward situations.

You had been in a few sticky adventures during your time on the Normandy. One time you had managed to walk in on Tali when she was changing, which ended with a scarred mandible on your part and an infection on hers.

Another one had been getting stuck inside the elevator with Miranda and Jacob while you were still taking down the Collectors. Those few hours had been the most questionable ones that you had spent with that duo.

The situation that you were in right now was ridiculously awkward, though.

After being released by C-Sec by pulling a few strings, you and Joker were stranded until Shepard returned. The helmsman had suggested heading back to his apartment to catch up with EDI, but you had different plans.

When Joker had put in his suggestion, you had been irate. Shepard had been banned from seeing visitors. You had to be dragged out the door before finally giving up on retrieving her. It had been a reluctant decision on your part, but if you weren't there when she got out you didn't know what you would do. You promised her that you would never leave her a long time ago, but now you needed to break your agreement. Instead of being there physically, you monitored her virtually.

Last time you checked her status on her visor was at three in the morning. According to your C-Sec documents, she was on the Presidium awaiting her hearing. Specifics had been irretrievable.

There were no further updates after that.

Now it was six in the morning and you had somehow found yourself back at Shepard's penthouse.

The glass was still scattered about. Other than that, the penthouse appeared to be unused.

This destination had been a last result on your part. There wasn't really much else for you to do with Joker, anyway. You had been incarcerated up until five, anyway.

"Damn…" your friend had said upon entering the stuffy residence. "They kept her here?"

You had answered her with a simple grunt and he soon learned his place. He didn't talk much after that and made an excuse about being tired.

Currently, Joker was asleep on the couch and you were looking out onto the view that your partner had witnessed every single day.

It was then that you began to wonder about things.

You began to wonder about that warm place and the Turian-Human babies. Would that ever happen?

Would she still love you or was she delusional from all of her years of service?

Was she suicidal?

What was the first thing she thought of when she closed her eyes?

You sighed and looked down at the glass that would be stabbing your feet if you were armorless. As you bent down and picked up a piece, you could swear that it was stained red.

When you saw the red tint, you quickly dropped the object and moved to another part of the house: the bedroom.

This place was just as drab as the other rooms. The bed was too small for a Turian and the colors were boring.

There was also a total lack of anything personal. There was no photography or art on the walls, and you began to scan the room for a sign of personalization.

It took you a while, but you found something.

On the nightstand was a small picture frame that wouldn't have been visible at first glance. Something about it was beckoning. You answered its inaudible call and strode over to it.

Upon further examination, you were shocked.

It was the picture Shepard had taken of you during your short period of living together. You remember calling it bizarre when she first took it; you were putting on your armor's chest plate and allowing the Earth's real sunlight to beam down on you.

You could recall the day she took it vividly. You had just gotten up and wanted to surprise Shepard with breakfast, which was a difficult task considering that you didn't know how to cook for humans. Why you had decided to wear armor while doing it still baffled you, though.

The bedroom that you had shared together was coated in a yellow morning light. It hit your skin at the most unique angles, creating a brownish tone. She had captured the moment while sneaking out of the shower.

"Sneaking" wasn't a good term, though, considering that she was laughing the whole time.

"I caught you red handed, Vakarian! Now we've got proof of your handsomeness!"

Your name was sometimes just Vakarian, and you didn't know a picture could give you such strong emotions.