The plot is starting to finally solidify! Yay!

Thank you for the reviews and hopefully this chapter starts to help you guys form a clearer picture of what's going on. ;)

xoxo

THR

Chapter 21

Your name was Joker Moreau, and you had been enjoying a much needed nap until you had been disturbed by two things.

One of these things was a Turian that was shaking you violently. You presumed that this meant that there was new news about Shepard's status. It wasn't like you weren't interested or concerned about your friend who happened to be in jail for a double murder.

The dream you had been experiencing had been a little more interesting than arising to see Garrus' screwed up face, unfortunately.

You were seeing stars by the time you did sit up. Every detail of your vivid reverie was still clear in your mind, and Shepard was the last thing you wanted to think about.

Although you weren't about to reveal any details about it to anyone for at least a few months, you didn't see anything wrong with reliving it in your mind.

The setting had been a place you knew and loved: the Normandy SR-2. As usual, you were on the bridge flying the ship. This sort of dream wasn't out of the ordinary; you still put yourself into trances about flying that hell of a vessel whenever you got time to doze off.

Instead of just flying, this delusion was a little different.

EDI had been in it.

Your cheeks turned a bit red as you continued to think about it, and you were very glad that EDI wasn't powerful enough to hear your thoughts. When she was at her prime, brain wave interception was just about the only thing she couldn't do.

Her technological capabilities weren't what got you going, though.

"Joker, get your ass up! EDI's got a hacked feed to Udina's office and they've got Shepard cornered with Bailey and the Admiral."

"Shit, I forgot about EDI! Did I mention that she wants to take back the Normandy?"

You blurted that last sentence out at an awkward time, and even Garrus would have raised an eyebrow at you if he possessed one. Luckily for you, he didn't have one and he was too distracted by his visor.

You were soon preoccupied with something as well. The second reason for why you were initially disturbed was your omni-tool, which you had found yourself relying on more and more while off duty. It was sending you alerts that indicated a new email had arrived in your inbox. Sure enough, it was from EDI. Her message was brief, but the attached video feed link was invaluable. How she had managed to get it from controlling your shitty computer flabbergasted you.

You then chuckled to yourself. You should know better than to doubt EDI. Even when her systems were at their worst, she could outperform most humans.

"Take back the Normandy, huh? That sounds like the plot from one of those overbudgeted Citadel blockbusters." he commented. You were well aware of how outlandish it sounded once you took it into context. Stealing a ship from the Alliance would land you, Shepard and Garrus in more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps just asking for EDI's hardware back would be a better alternative.

"Nah," you said to yourself. "That would be too easy."

There wasn't anything said between the two of you for a few more minutes. You simply sat on the unused couch in Shepard's penthouse while she accepted her fate with the Council.

Whenever you turned to look at Garrus, his talon was propped up against his chin. Sometimes he would nod while other times his free hand would be clenched into a fist.

He would grunt but never would he say real words.

He seemed to know exactly what was going on between Shepard and the Council. You, on the other hand, were in the dark.

Now that you thought about it, you really didn't know why Shepard was initially locked in her own house to begin with. Sure, she was supposedly suffering from a bad mental disease. In most cases that you had heard of, though, the patient was never subjected to solitary confinement. Most of them got counselors and were able to at least talk to the people they cared about.

Why had Shepard been put in the dark? The Council had a tendency to be secretive, but their reasoning for treating a Spectre and a hero with such animosity couldn't be ignored.

"Garrus, this is gonna sound like a stupid question," you started. He turned to look at you and you could tell that his attention was still focused on the feed.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

His tone was stern and you could only hope that he had meant that in jest.

"I understand that Liz isn't ok. Anderson told me a long time ago to look after her, and it's obvious that she's messed up now. But house arrest and being locked up…seriously? What kind of games are these people playing?"

A pained expression made it onto the former C-Sec officer's face. It was one of pain, and you hadn't been expecting its sudden onset. His mouth turned into a scowl, and for the first time in ten minutes he tore himself away from the secret footage.

Before focusing his attention on you, he scanned the room as if to look for any spies or bugs that could be watching the two of you. Given your environment, you wouldn't be surprised if there were some.

"I can't tell you anything until you swear to not let it leave this room."

His warning was sincere. If you had any doubts about it, all you had to do was look at his face. He was serious.

"You've got my word," you replied while putting your hand up to salute him. "Flight lieutenant's honor."

He still looked reluctant to share the information that you were lacking. It wasn't as if you were going to stab anyone in the back with it. Shepard was one of the closest friends you had.

You needed to know what had happened.

"The main reasoning behind it started right after finishing our deals with Cerberus. We were in some sort of hotel restaurant on Earth. Damn, that place was stuffy…"

Your name was Garrus Vakarian, and this was your first real restaurant date with your girlfriend.

Human customs for formal dining were foreign to you. There were three knives, two spoons and four forks all at your disposal. You had a feeling that they all had their own individual purposes, but you weren't about to go and ask about them. It would be rude and, quite frankly, you weren't expecting to eat anyway.

Earth was supposed to be a place of diversity. However, it wasn't often that Turians visited this garden world with the sole purpose of leisure. If you weren't a diplomat and you were a Turian, there wasn't really much of a reason for you to visit Earth.

This meant that they didn't have your type of food readily available. At most you would be able to tolerate the food served to you. If you were lucky, you wouldn't have to hurl it up later.

You looked at the woman across from you. She also seemed to be having a problem with finding her way around the table.

Before you had arrived at the restaurant, Shepard had been raving about the food that New York City had to offer. It had been a racial melting pot roughly two hundred years ago. Every nationality had had a home in the city, whether it was in the former Chinatown district or on Curry Row in Manhattan. All of these names that she had poured out to you had gone in one ear and out the other.

These racial communities had turned into species-centered ones. Instead of there being a gap between races, species discrimination was rampant throughout Earth. Simple racial stereotypes and communities had been buried with the old New York City itself, which was now deep in the ocean. There were now places for refugees all around the massive uplifted city. Instead of sanctuaries for Chinese-Americans, there were now some for colony expats or displaced aliens.

Nonetheless, you were still impressed by the humans' sense of design.

If anything, the city reminded you of Illium. Tall skyscrapers made the skyline jagged. Everything looked brand new.

Roads were nearly obsolete, but if you looked close enough you could see them underneath the layers of buildings and support cables. Sky cars zipped across the landscape everywhere you looked. If you didn't see a car, chances are that you were stuck looking at an electronic billboard.

Sidewalks that had once been a staple for the city were now made of acrylic glass and spanned over bare spaces. It was as if you were walking on glass suspension bridges, and they made their way all across the city.

A citizen from two hundred years ago would have called it the same city. The only differences were the modernization, the fact that the city was practically floating and that there was a hell of a lot more metal and glass. Of course, these few modifications made the metropolis look immensely different. The longer you lived there, though, the more you began to realize that it wasn't all that changed.

That is, unless you were Commander Liz Shepard.

After she finished eying the silverware in front of her, she looked up at you in horror.

"I have no idea what any of this shit is for!" she whispered. She looked elegant in her civilian clothing, but never would someone have guessed that she felt as out of place as you.

"So much for fine cuisine. I'd rather eat some of the Mess Sergeant's grub than figure out how the hell you're supposed to waste so many utensils."

Your waiter hadn't even arrived yet, and you were starting to wonder why you were even here.

"You know what?" Shepard asked. "Let's go back to the Normandy. This place isn't exactly what I was expecting. Of course, I could always teach you about drive-thrus."

"Anything sounds better than decoding human forks," you joked.

Your failed attempt at a date ended abruptly, and you came to the conclusion that outings like this weren't meant for people like you. You tried not to let it get to your head while you got out of your stiff chair. When Shepard took your arm like a helpless woman, you tried to pretend that everything had gone off without a hitch.

You didn't want to feel bad about the whole situation. Hell, if you thought about it some more, it didn't even have to be a "situation".

There were bound to be some other romantic dates that would appeal to the both of you, anyway.

It didn't take long for you to exit the eating establishment and enter your vessel again. The more time you spent on the Normandy, the more it felt like home. Finding it at the Enrique Aguilar Memorial Docking Station was a breeze considering that it was just across the street from the stiff location that you had just left.

When you got to the elevator, you took a deep breath and asked the question that had been bothering you since Shepard had mentioned it.

"You said you had something to tell me, didn't you?"

She looked up at you and raised her eyebrows. It wasn't as if she was eager to tell you what she had been implying.

"I, uh, got a message from Admiral Hackett. He wants me to take care of some classified mission for him. It's in the Terminus System and there's a shit ton of Batarians who want an undercover Alliance researcher's head."

Your first response to her would have been no. If she had been any other woman, you would have said it automatically.

"I thought you and the Alliance weren't in contact." you mused.

"Hackett and I are…close. He mentioned that no other Spectre took the job and that I was the only option left. Considering all of this Cerberus bullshit, I'm lucky that they want me back."

"Have you ever considered freelancing? The Normandy is yours, Commander."

She looked at you and leaned against the elevator wall, which exposed her slender yet toned frame.

"I put it in the back of my mind a long time ago." she replied with a sigh. "Contrary to what the public believes, I don't have the money to independently operate a ship and fly across the galaxy to do good deeds. Rolling that way wouldn't be my style."

You nodded and watched as the elevator indicated what floor you were ascending to. If you were correct, Shepard had pressed the button that led to the Crew Deck.

"Is this a solo mission or do we need to reassemble the crew?"

You secretly hoped for an opportunity to tag team this scheme with Shepard. You had accompanied her on a majority of her galactic missions, but never before had it been the two of you. Somebody else had always been there for backup.

"Hackett said that it's Spectre business, but now that the cat's outta the bag, I don't think there's a problem with you tagging along. Who knows, I might need something calibrated."

A devious smile played on her face, which wasn't what you had been expecting. Your romantic skills were improving lately. You were able to pick up on her romantic cues a little easier, which made everything a lot less awkward.

"Reprimand me if I'm wrong, but I have a feeling that you aren't talking about calibrating the guns."

She responded with yet another spontaneous move which you hadn't been anticipating. Her hand touched your cheek in an affectionate manner and she planted a kiss on your scruffy lips.

You could swear that her lips contained some sort of drug that made you crazy. When she pulled away, you pulled back with a hungry look in your eyes. Her eyes shared a mutual expression.

"Vakarian, you'd better know that my guns aren't the only things that you need to calibrate on a regular basis."

Your breath hitched, and you reached to the back of her dress to unzip it.

This ended in the zipper being torn off and discarded to the floor.

She worked just as hard to tear off your civilian clothing with a sudden burst of unexpected lust. You willingly accepted it without any sort of hesitation.

You took her down and she submitted without resisting, which was yet another thing that you loved about her. Cross-species intercourse awkwardness was now a thing of the past with you two.

Your name was Garrus Vakarian, and you had never anticipated doing it in an elevator.

You were also beginning to realize that you didn't mind surprises much anymore.

"So, Batarians and a covert mission? That sounds like a thing Liz would do."

Your name was Joker Moreau and you felt like the entire story hadn't been revealed to you.

Garrus had only explained one thing and you were having a hard time believing that Shepard got in trouble for telling him about a Spectre mission involving the Terminus System. That place was sketchy, but not sketchy enough for the Council to lock her up like she was a madwoman.

"Not now, Joker."

Garrus' attention had diverted to the feed again. He had stopped mid-story without explanation, and one couldn't just start to tell a tale like that without finishing it.

"And besides, all of this took place before the Reapers. Something isn't adding up!"

Your constant questioning didn't impress the Turian in front of you, who promptly began to ignore you.

Your persistence was futile now. All you could do now was that same thing that he was doing.

Your name was Joker Moreau and you were still utterly confused.

Maybe one day I will write a better love scene between Shep and Garrus...