Sorry for the delay on this. I think I've kind of been deterred by the lack of views/reviews I've been getting. I'm guessing that it's because this is getting too long or because people are just losing interest. If anything, I'd like you guys to be frank with me or just leave a quick review or something. I don't see this story lasting much longer, but there will indeed be a sequel if you guys want it. I can't effectively wrap up an ongoing plot in just a few more chapters, but I know by experience that things can get kind of boring after 50+ chapters. I just feel like I need input that I'm not getting, sooo...yeah.

xoxo

THR

Chapter 42

Your name was Garrus Vakarian and Shepard was a sight for sore eyes when she exited the shuttle. You and Kaidan were well aware of why she had stayed back in the first place. It was hard for anyone to control the distasteful noises that came with nausea and not even a shuttle door was enough to conceal Shepard's intentions. If that wasn't enough, she insisted on staying to "check her guns" and that she might have also encountered a glitch in her tech armor, leaving the two of you to go forward and land on the sickening Batarian planet solo. You called bullshit when you saw her make a beeline to the bathroom. Maybe it was an Earth thing, but you were positive that weapon and armor malfunctions weren't typically handled in the lavatory. There were still unspoken doubts in your mind as to what the hell you were truly about to face. Even if the Normandy's CO was your girlfriend, she had been tight lipped as to what was going on. Part of you wondered if she knew anything herself. Unlike Kaidan, she did not have a sometimes blind faith in the Alliance. She questioned it relentlessly. However, it was clear to you that she was doing her job to further impress Hackett and earn his forgiveness for working against them. You would have done the same thing in her position, but the stress was starting to get to her. Never before had you seen the Commander throw up before completing a significant objective. As you looked around, the outcome of the mission was starting to look bleaker and bleaker.

"I don't like where this is going." your associate muttered. Before Shepard could evaluate the situation, you and Kaidan had taken the opportunity to survey the Batarian planet of Aratoht. From your position, there wasn't much to see. It looked like something out of those old noir films Kasumi had watched while the Collector fight was still on. Rain dribbled at a slow pace, sending droplets into your eyes and visor. You blinked back the water like substance and gave yourself a fair view of Aratoht's sky. Plagued with grey and muddy blue pigments, the planet's moon dominated most of the scene in front of you. Its light lacked the ability to provide sufficient warmth and the darkness of the place remained unbreached. This mood transcended to the terrain as well. Slate colored rocks were the closest thing to an environment. Jagged edges allowed the flora to grow only on top of the mini mountains, which surrounded the facility that looked as big as the moon itself.

The prison had quantity but lacked in quality. People weren't kidding when they said the Batarians lived under a stereotypical communist regime; not a person was in sight and even the most used facilities were run down. There wasn't enough money to make repairs when Hegemony members had to live their lives in the lap of luxury. The entire thing made you shake your head. Batarian or not, these people didn't deserve this. From what you had been told, most places under the Hegemony's authority were like this.

"The Batarians must have a thing for dark, rainy places." you mused in response. "This place fits the bill when it comes to a scary and likely unauthorized prison."

This got a laugh out of the biotic, who maintained a stoic composure while on duty. Seconds later, the shuttle doors opened and a certain woman popped out.

The jump she executed while leaving the Kodiak was weak. After tripping on the ground and coming close to falling over her own footsteps, she brushed herself off and looked rather unconfident. That was enough for you to begin fearing for all three of your lives.

"You sure you're ready for this, Shepard?" Kaidan asked with a semi-reassuring expression. She didn't respond to him and instead looked to you for guidance. It wasn't your place to give her advice. She outranked you and was better at recon missions like this. If this was an all out combat situation, you would have been much more comforting. A hint of a nod was enough for her to continue despite her falters.

"I'm good."

Shepard lifted up her hand and scanned the area with her omni-tool, which revealed that the door in front of the three of you was sealed.

"The nearest entrance is sealed but it's saying that there's a way to cut the power." she announced. "Work on finding a console."

Hoping that your partner's newfound stability would get sounder as you infiltrated, you got to work.

Your name was Garrus Vakarian and unfortunately for you, this stability wasn't going to last much longer.

Your name was Liz Shepard and you were now able to say that you had seen Joker Moreau's ass. You didn't know that Joker went commando when he slept, nor did you feel like you ever wanted to know that wonderful little fact. The crippled man was leaning against the white countertop while munching on something unknown to you. You were rather thankful that his back was turned. If the both of you ended up looking at each other's choices of attire (or, in Joker's case, his lack of any), it had the potential to end badly.

It felt weird to think that you hadn't seen another ass that wasn't a Turian's or your own. With an overwhelming amount of self control, you pulled your eyes away and hid the upper half of your face in your hand.

The munching ceased and you heard your former flight lieutenant turn around. His lack of words was beginning to get to you, but you didn't want to take the risk of looking forward. Knowing your luck, what you might see could be catastrophic.

"Before you say anything, I didn't actually think anyone would be down here. That conclusion is logical because the two of you were pretty damn loud when you were going at it. I figured it would have lasted longer. Just saying."

You gave him a long sigh in return and dared to open your eyes. Despite your initial thoughts, what you saw wasn't all that bad.

Although he lacked the toned muscles of most Alliance men, Joker had a good enough amount of meat on him. The slightest hint of a four pack played on his torso, which, like his face, had a hint of hair. He still donned a hat on top of his head, and the only other garment covering him was a pair of dark grey socks. The fact that he wasn't all that embarrassed was comforting. Come to think of it, you were the one who should be flustered.

"I wonder if EDI is aware of your secret voyeurism fetish." you countered. The mention of EDI was sometimes a tender topic for the pilot. Until you were able to get her back up and running again, Joker would continue to get defensive about her.

"Don't drag the poor AI into this, Shepard!"

You laughed at this comment and proceeded to enter the room even further.

"Besides," he continued, his tone getting lower. "She could be listening."

Joker revealed his snack of choice, which happened to be some potato chips that a Citadel café sold. You kept your eyes fixated on his face rather than any of his assets. It didn't take long for him to detect the awkwardness of the situation. It was almost as if he didn't realize he was in the nude.

"Good to see you and Garrus really rekindling things. Seriously, you guys are like the poster couple for inter-species relationships."

He was used to you not talking much lately, which meant that propelling the conversations by himself was a task he had learned to accept.

"It really helps to have him around." you commented. "Same with you. I really mean that."

Being frank with Joker wasn't something you were familiar with. As his name implied, he was a sarcastic, witty man who you could always joke around with. The two of you had shared a considerable amount of serious talks on the Normandy, but they never had a lot of meaning. It was normal of him to disregard bad situations with humor. This time, he was doing the exact opposite of that.

He walked over and put a hand on your shoulder. "On a realer note, I heard about what happened down at Huerta." he whispered. "If you really need anything, just let me know. I told Anderson a long time ago that I'd watch out for you. I don't care if the old man's dead; I just want to make sure you don't get any worse. Shit, that almost sounded maternal."

Your lips turned up into a smile despite the odd encounter that the two of you had shared. Hearing him be so sincere didn't happen often.

"Joker, I-" You paused midsentence, unsure of how to express your gratitude. Being confined in a house for a year had diminished your social skills.

"Thanks for…er, everything." You decided that this was a somewhat efficient response. It didn't convey the sheer thankfulness that you felt towards the man, but it would suffice until you learned any better.

"No problem, Commander."

He disappeared into the shadows of the penthouse after that, making his body turn into nothing but a cloaked illusion in the dark. You were alone now.

Instead of Joker's loud voice keeping you company, you had an empty bag of chips and a kitchen that wasn't used for cooking. The silence began to creep up on you again. It was slow at first, taking root in the space around the walls and then invading your own personal bubble. You had tried to fight it long ago, but you still found yourself reverting back to your old ways.

Silence was what you feared nowadays. It wasn't gunfire or having your ship taken down by the enemy. In theory, these conflicts were much greater than the absence of noise. It was yet another irrational fear that dominated your own existence. The stillness of the penthouse in the evening reminded you of the times when you had been entirely alone. Back when solitary confinement was still at large in your life, it wasn't unusual for you to have moments where the quietness turned from peaceful to unbearable. Since the return of your comrades, this hadn't been a problem anymore. You were filled with positive energy and had been so close to taking a step in the right direction. You could almost say that you weren't prone to panic attacks because of the complex web of support the two men had weaved for you. With them, you felt like it was still possible to recover.

After the events at Huerta that you had just been reminded of, it felt like you took one huge step backwards. Allowing the silence to take over occurred while you got lost in your own thoughts.

You're a psychopath.

You can't give a man any children.

You need therapy to be normal.

Returning to the Normandy shouldn't and won't happen again.

Garrus is going to leave no matter how much he cares.

Silence began to ruin your life again.

It brought back the recollections of being suffocated in the middle of space because you hadn't been able to make it to an escape pod in time.

It made you remember the chills of not being able to hear a friend's voice again and how unsure you were of your own sacrifices. Had you made the right decisions in the past? Were you worth it?

Silence made you question all of what you knew.

Your fingers turned clammy as you wrapped them around the edge of the counter. All of Garrus' handiwork was wearing off as you felt your own body being breached by something that wasn't there.

Sweat piled onto the slick material that made up the counter. You slipped and slid your hands until you could get a good grip. With both hands scouring the surface, the pace of your breathing quickened.

"G-God damn it…"

Hyperventilation came with your inability to stay still. Convulsions took over your stability and you soon realized that this wasn't anything normal.

Thinking that solace would come upon you when you shut your eyes, you were greeted with a familiar sight. The ink like darkness did nothing to conceal your self-conjured terrors. What you had managed to dream up for yourself felt supernatural. It couldn't be taken down by sheer force or willpower. Because of this, you allowed yourself to stay frozen in shock.

You opened your eyes and shadows walked among the kitchen, which didn't had been transformed by your sudden nightmare. There was no light, only darkness. The room around you had gone to shit; it was like it no longer existed.

The shadows screamed with the voices of the ones you had left behind. Masked with the faces of the people you had loved, raw emotions came to toy with your well being. Your memory, which was now blurred by illusions, had forgotten when you hit the floor or cried out. It instead began to recall the dreams you used to have back on the Normandy.

The Catalyst, the trees, the fog; it was all coming back.

The lights were still very much on and not much had changed in reality. The kitchen remained clean and free of any black apparitions. Your hallucination was the work of your imagination.

Worst of all, the entire room was silent.

Nobody was there except you, and that was your weakness.

Your name was Liz Shepard and you felt yourself slip away for a while as you sat on the floor of your kitchen. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you began to understand that you were not a powerful commander anymore. You lacked the fearlessness or bravery that came with being Commander Shepard. You didn't wield a gun or a respected opinion.

You weren't successful.

Your lungs shook as they struggled to find a normal breathing pattern to adjust to. Your breath's pace got faster and faster, as did your heart.

You spent your last breath wisely before drifting off into a place that you couldn't leave.

"Garrus!"

As much as your body would allow it, you screamed his name over and over and dreamed that he was at your side the entire time.