I'm really proud of this chapter! Please keep up the review (I feel like I'll keep on saying that until I'm blue in the face). Enjoy the chapter! (ps, if I'm not around for a few days, that means that the power is out. Extreme storms are coming my way!)

xoxo

THR

Chapter 25

Your name was Katherine Shepard and you always thought that you had been a loving mother.

Words that you would not use to describe yourself would be supportive or constant. In your opinion, these factors did not matter when it came to raising your daughter. You had been a very busy woman in your heyday. In fact, you still were. With your husband by your side, you jetted between Earth and Illium to create an empire that took the galaxy by storm. To keep it simple, you told everyone that asked that you were an entrepreneur that happened to develop revolutionary upgrades for omni-tools. In reality, this job description was nothing like what your true profession was. You had been at the top of your class in college. You had graduated with honors and quickly married a military man who served in the Alliance forces. He, like you, learned concepts easily. By experimenting day and night, the two of you spent the first years of your marriage in a small New York City apartment developing your own software.

Now you were millionaires who enjoyed champagne as well as being generous towards the less fortunate. Your favorite charities included ones that supported kids in poor colonies and Krogan adoption agencies. You no longer had to worry about coming up with the newest innovations. The scientists were there for that, and you would continue to amass a fortune as long as they continued to be brilliant.

When you had to rely on nothing but your brains back in the day, you didn't have time to do much outside of work. Starting a family hadn't been a priority for you. It had been more like an accident when you were in your forties.

Your pregnancy hadn't affected you much. You worked through it.

You didn't recall your daughter's birthday as most parents would. Instead of celebrating your child's arrival into the world, you always remembered that it had been the day when your company launched its first full omni-tool model. While nurses offered you your baby, you shooed them away in exchange for your own advanced omni-tool so you could check the status of your sales.

Some would say that this was cruel of you, and you gave them the same retort each time.

"I'm a career woman," you would say. "But that doesn't make me love my daughter any less."

If you were to ask your child about this, she would say otherwise. In actuality, the time you had spent with her had been limited. You prided yourself on being there for most of her major achievements. You saw her walk and talk. You potty trained her and sent her off to her first day of school.

That had been enough for you.

She had been in the care of a nanny for the rest of the time. When she reached thirteen you allowed her to stay in your large New York apartment on her own. In retrospect, this had been a bad parenting decision on your part. You didn't know the exact details of your daughter's escapades for at least six years. There had been older men, drinking, drugs and the occasional wild party involved. You had brushed this off as normal; that was what teens did. Teens would be teens even if you were there to supervise her. Your husband supported your lax parenting techniques so you could both advance your careers further. It didn't seem careless at the time, and you can't say that you regret it now.

The most prominent moment in your life that involved your daughter was when she announced that she was going into the Alliance Marines.

You remembered this day vividly because it was the most terrifying experience you ever lived through.

It was her eighteenth birthday and you had flown into New York to throw her a party. Aside from the occasional vid comm call (which normally ended in her hanging up on you), you had not seen her in person since she was just a pre-teen.

When you arrived at your old home, the place was trashed.

Your daughter's raging biotics had torn up the place, and you were appalled to find bongs and red sand remnants scattered all around the house. When you asked your daughter what had happened, she shrugged it off.

She did not say hello to you.

She did not hug you.

She simply stood in a doorway with a suitcase in her hand. This was her greeting, and from that moment you could tell that she was not pleased to see you.

You tried to take her into an embrace, but she resisted. When your husband slapped her across the face for her attitude, she held him back with a barrier. In your absence, she had grown to be powerful in her biotic abilities. She had also taken the liberty of outfitting herself with an L2 implant without parental consent.

Tempers flared on that night and you found out that your child's and you husband's biotic abilities were both on par. They had been a match for each other and the fight that broke out between tempers was unstoppable.

You had thrown yourself in between them and begged for mercy. This was child abuse and no self righteous daughter would disrespect her father in such a way.

They didn't listen.

Neither of them had been scarred by the scuffle, but the apartment was in even worse shape when they had concluded their match. He wouldn't admit it then, but your partner later told you that he had been impressed by her skills. If she had learned one thing from private school, it was biotic power control.

"I'm becoming a marine." she had said with a blunt tone. She didn't want the grand party you were going to throw. She only asked for your support.

You, of course, lectured her on how dangerous enlisting was. She wouldn't get far and death was imminent. Her father told her the same thing, which she called hypocritical.

Looking back on this moment, you realized that your unwavering support was the only thing that she had ever asked of you throughout your entire relationship. You had been an absent mother and now you were beginning to understand that this hurt her.

You looked at your daughter in front of you now. She was a high ranking Commander and a Council Spectre. She had travelled across the galaxy and was even dead for a few years. You couldn't begin to list her accomplishments. You knew them all from observing her progress from afar.

And, as terrible as it sounded, you thought that she would have been dead by now.

You noticed that nothing had changed when it came to her rather fiery personality. She might be in front of the great Admiral Hackett and some sort of Turian man, but that didn't stop her anguish from unleashing itself. You had arrived in Vancouver to check on the Alliance's progress with your tech program, which you had willfully adopted. When you came to talk to the Admiral and heard word of your daughter's presence, you had to see her.

You couldn't say that this was a good decision. Instead of looking at you with love, there was only scorn in her eyes. She propelled a chair at you by using a biotic field when you entered the room she was in, which wasn't the least bit surprising.

You had praised her and she had responded with physical violence. The media portrayed her as a ruthless yet respectful soldier who was admired across the galaxy. She did not display this reputation in front of you. It wasn't long before you and your husband were escorted out of the room. When you were outside the office, you were asked to leave by security.

As you looked back at the double doors that led to the office of Admiral Steven Hackett, you took you husband's hand and squeezed it. He looked down at you in shame.

Your name was Katherine Shepard and you came to a drastic conclusion.

Maybe you just weren't cut out for parenting.

Your name was Commander Armando-Owen Bailey and you were given the honor of escorting Shepard out of the makeshift Council quarters.

The meeting was over due to out of control circumstances. Her fate was not decided, but many secrets had been unearthed. Her reactions to them hadn't been what you had predicted. In fact, they weren't as bad as you had been expecting. Perhaps her mental state wasn't as horrifying as the Council made it out to be.

When you looked down and saw her fingernails, which were bent and gnawed at so they formed little nubs, you retracted this opinion.

Shepard stood up and moved towards the doors without someone by her side, which caused the Turian councilor to order that you take her back to her cell. He claimed that they "didn't need her stirring shit" and that she was still "a menace to Turian society". Considering your position in Citadel hierarchy, you were the appointed professional that had to open the door for the poor woman and hold her by the arm while she took the walk of shame. You assumed your role and tried to allow her to keep the little amount of dignity that she had left.

Your grip on her was gentle, and the way her eyes looked over your face was unwavering. She was trying to decipher your personal opinions, and maybe that little bit of sanity that was still left could be seen in her facial expressions. With a sigh, you opened the doors that led out into the hallway of the Embassies. You had no real intentions to bring Shepard back to her cell. If it was quiet outside, sneaking her back to her home in the middle of the Presidium would not be a problem.

To your shock, you were not alone when you looked into the hall.

Hundreds, if not thousands of people were crowded outside and were flowing into the heart of the Embassies. While you watched them in shock, your ears detected a common statement being shouted out by all of them.

"Free Shepard!"

"Save the Commander!"

Shepard, on the other hand, was beaming beside you.

"How did they know that this…this thing was going on?"

You didn't answer her question because something else had already grabbed your attention.

A reporter by the name of Tanya Thompson was flashing on the nearest television that was docked to the wall. As you watched her speak, you noticed that a video feed containing footage from the room right behind you was playing.

Somebody had leaked the security footage from Udina's former office to the news.

Your sweaty palm wiped your forehead and you gave Shepard a defeated expression. Her left eyebrow cocked up and she waited for you to say something over the crowd, which was overflowing and getting closer to the two of you.

"Considering that the Council never revoked your Spectre status, I'm assuming that you have the right to overrule me. Go home, but don't you even think about telling anyone why you aren't in the damn cell. I have bigger issues to worry about that doesn't have to do with keeping a great hero in prison."

With that, you turned around and walked briskly to your office, leaving Shepard to her own devices. You were sure that this wasn't a bad idea, but you were well aware of the consequences if it backfired on you.

Your name was Commander Armando-Owen Bailey and it was time to continue cleaning up the Council's mess.

Your name is Liz Shepard and you watched as your temporary guardian walked away from you. You doubted that this was considered to be your formal release, but you had ideas swirling in your head that kept you from overanalyzing this conflict. Right now you wanted to get home and contemplate what had happened over the past few days.

You rekindled your first long term relationship and destroyed it in less than a day.

You killed two men with brute force.

You fucked up with the Council for the umpteenth time.

You gnawed on your lip and watched as the crowd around you surged. They hadn't caught sight of you yet, and considering what they were chanting you thought that this was a good thing.

You were ugly, disoriented and crazy. If they did happen to find you, then they would likely send you into a panic attack. You were, of course, on the verge of one already due to sensory overload.

Lights.

People.

Noise.

The nakedness you felt wasn't something that you could describe. You didn't have your protective gear with you.

You were just a soft, flimsy human without any sort of defense mechanism. You did have biotics and your own two fists, but were they enough to fend off a crowd?

No.

These people were supporting you. There was no reason for you to retaliate against them.

But what if they were the ones that turned against you? Their blind support would last for just a limited amount of time. They would eventually realize what a terrible person you were.

You murdered civilians and didn't give two shits about it. You had destroyed an entire system that was filled with even more innocent people without any sort of legitimate reason. How was that something commendable? They would all turn on you and the Alliance. It would be the death of you and everything humanity has strived for. Your acceptance would be revoked and nobody would even dare to help humans again.

Your eyes slammed shut in a panic. How were you supposed to get out of this unscathed? It was obvious that you were overreacting and putting yourself into a compromising position.

You threw up a subconscious barrier up to shield yourself from the crowd that was in front of you. It hadn't been a strong one, but it had been something nonetheless. It helped you despite your saner half denying the fact that you needed it.

With your head down, you began to walk swiftly through the masses of people. They were members of every race and they all continued to call your name or something having to do with it.

"Justice for the best human ever!"

"Is the Council prejudiced against biotics?!"

"Kill the Batarians!"

You didn't feel worthy of these claims. They were lies and you told yourself this during your painstaking walk home. You were a washed up Alliance bitch who didn't need sympathy. You just needed help and a warm bed, which were both things that you lacked. The crowd eventually thinned out by the time you reached the location of the more luxurious apartments that the Citadel had to offer.

Your brief travels had been monotonous and filled with negative thoughts towards yourself. You were alone again, and you knew that you still would be when you opened that door.

For another few years you would sit and rot in this hellhole of a house. You would watch the Citadel continuously rebuild and remember that your imprisonment is what keeps this spaceship going. Public protests would die out and everyone would forget your name. Your ghost of a crew would go on to remember that you were a great woman who didn't take a gracious fall. Reporters would call you crazy for as long as you continued to live.

Garrus would remember you as the woman he mistakenly loved. You were nothing more than a comrade and a waste of his time. You assumed that you had scared him off. You knew that you would be a little disgruntled if he killed two humans in a fit of rage. He was too familiar with you and what you stood for, and blind killing wasn't it. Just because your life had been flushed down the drain didn't mean that he had to go down with you.

You were going to be alone, miserable and insane for the remainder of your days. You knew it.

This didn't sound like a promising life to you at all, but it was what your life was going to be.

Like the reasoning behind your confined life, you were not going to accept it.

You were going to deal with it.

When you pressed your hand on the door to open it, you were surprised that there was no encryption to lock it.

The doors parted, and you realized that you were not alone like you had been expecting.

"Shepard!"

Two men were inside your apartment. One of them was a Turian who you knew all too well. He didn't need any sort of description other than four words: he was your man.

The other one had a sling on his arm and a fighting spirit worthy of the fastest ship in the galaxy. You had spoken to him last night but you couldn't recall any of the conversation's details.

They were Garrus Vakarian and Joker Moreau, and you suddenly knew that you weren't going to spend your life alone.

Garrus' warm arms encircled you and you tried your best to hug him back. You had never felt so secure in your entire life.

For once things felt like they were going to be okay. Sure, you might have murdered two people and were up for inspection by the Council, but that was something that could be disregarded for now.

You felt loved and that was all that mattered.

Joker was close behind you; however, he chose not to interject. He gave you a smile that meant a thousand words.

You felt absolute euphoria as you gasped for breath. Although you felt like your lungs were about to collapse inside of you from hyperventilation, you sobbed into your boyfriend's shoulder like there was no tomorrow.

It didn't take long for you to cave into your body's desires. You passed out in Garrus Vakarian's arms for a multitude of reasons. Sheer happiness was one of them, but dehydration and exhaustion had ultimately got the better of you. Even though you were worn out, you were thrilled.

Your name was Liz Shepard, and you could finally say that you were no longer alone.