Chapter Three

The night passed too quickly even though I barely slept, it felt like I didn't even have time to catch my breath before it was dawn and the knock sounded on my apartment door. The quarters I'd been given were larger and more luxurious then I'm used to, the pillows were filled with actual feathers and it's was deathly quiet. Hidden away on the far end of one arm it's saved for dignitaries and visiting admirals, I should be honoured to have been allowed access but all I felt was detached; from the rest of the station, from my crew, from myself. I stared at my ceiling above the bed for hours; eventually I moved to the living area and stared at the ceiling in there, caressing the tip on my pen med with my thumb. Time felt both never ending and fleeting, and all \z quickly I was walking to the entrance to answer the door. Two soldiers stood on the other side, fresh faced and immaculately dressed, their navy blue and gold uniform perfectly pressed and ironed, ready to escort me to the conference hall for my day in court.

No, not court, not a trail or an inquisition, Hackett made that perfectly clear as he addressed crowd gathered to watch the proceedings. An enquiry, nothing more, they are not here to apportion blame or deliver verdicts, their will be no judgement rendered or guilty plea heard. This is a search for the truth, a chance for the soldiers of the Alliance to hear what really happened by the people that saw it first hand; but I've faced one of these before and I can tell you, they certainly feel like a trial. You stand in your formal colours, white and gold, a jacket so stiffly starched it's impossible to move, every commendation you've ever received pinned against your chest and your rank displayed in stripes across your shoulders. The shoes are polished till they shine, the crease in your trousers could cut glass, the tassels and adornments are perfectly placed and you stand to attention at all times. A board of five Officers stares back at you, fires questions at you, never smiles or offers any kind of emotion at you and once you've told them all you have to tell they give you their opinion. On Akuze I was judged as a hero, a verdict showing they clearly didn't listen to a word I told them and I have a dark feeling that today will be no different.

It's eight o'clock exactly when I take the stand. An hour earlier I was lead through the crowded hallways of the Antarctica where familiar faces merged with strangers as an audience gathered for the main event. A few journalists called my name, Emily Wong's sweetly pitched voice in particular caught my attention and I was reminded that I promised her an exclusive. No one beside the Alliance is allowed into the conference room of course, but it hasn't escape the notice of the stations residents that today is an important day and they turned out in droves. People called at me, applauded me, asked for autographs and one person proposed marriage but I was ushered through them with no chance to return they're attention.

Five grey and experienced faces stare at me now, two I recognise, one I've served under the other knows my mother, and the remaining three are strangers. All have served for at least twenty years, have risen to Captain or above and most importantly, can't have been involved in the hunt for Saren or any of the events relating to it in anyway. The central Officer leans forward, hands clasped in front of him, a star of Terra against his chest.

"Commander Shepard," He begins his voice stronger then his small stature would suggest. "You were assigned to the Normandy as the XO, is that correct? Why don't you begin by telling us about Eden Prime?"

And I do, I start at the very beginning, with the distress call we intercepted, Jenkins death and meeting Ashley, the appearance of the geth, the accounts of the witnesses, Saren shooting Nihlus, the beacon, the vision and continue on from there.

When the time arose they called others to the stand to give their accounts, questioned Garrus about his investigation at CSec.

"I knew something was wrong with him from the start…."

Tali about how she acquired the memory core from the geth.

"There is a moment before self destruction where if you isolate the primary power matrix…"

Wrex about his hunt for Fist.

"That varren quad had it coming."

The minutes and hours ticked by as the questioning moved on; to Feros, Exogeni, and the Thorian, Therum, Liara and the krogan warlord, Noveria, Benezia and the rachni. They seemed to give Liara particular attention, but maybe that was my imagination.

"Doctor T'soni, you are a Prothean expert yes?"

"…how did you become trapped in the force field on Therum?"

"It was you who determined Saren was heading to Ilos yes?"

"What exactly does an asari mind meld involve?"

"Do you hold anything against Commander Shepard regarding the death of your mother?"

I caught Liara's line of sight for that question, saw the pain radiating from her intense blue eyes and knew her response was a lie. But the enquiry quickly moved on and she was ferried away.

The questions continued, about the time spent between the hunt for Saren; Nodacrux and the Prothean temple, the rogue VI on Luna, Cerberus, the Rachni and finding Admiral Kahoku's body.

Virmire and Kaidan's death.

"You chose to leave Lieutenant Alenko behind…."

It took hours but eventually the topic reached Ilos and then the battle on the Cidadel. All the witnesses had been called, Garrus and Ashley gave their final account and that just left me, and the final point of discussion.

Admiral Henderson of the fourth fleet, an old friend of my parents was the one to brooch it. A stern woman with a jagged scar on her cheek from the reclaiming of Shanxi, deep set eyes and peppered grey hair, she interlocked her fingers beneath her chin.

"You were given the choice to concentrate fire on Sovereign or send help to the Destiny Ascension," I could feel the blood draining from my face, "You chose to concentrate on Sovereign, resulting in the death of over ten thousand people, do you believe you made the right call?"

She looked me square in the eye and said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world

"The mission must come first." My throat clenched but I managed to get the words out. "That's all that matters."

After nine hours of questioning time was called; and I was declared a hero.

xXoXx

The panoramic window stretches out in front of me, two hundred metres wide and fifty tall, framing the docking bay of the station like a piece of living art.

I couldn't face returning to my quarters, couldn't face the quiet, the emptiness, the way the most familiar sounds don't feel the same in the vast, open space, but mainly I couldn't face the solitude. I haven't seen my crew all day, the hours between the trial and now were spent signing my name to hundreds of forms and wavers, countersigning testimonies, dodging the press and hunting down the admirals responsible for grounding my ship. Each one I found told me something different, that I would be reinstated as soon as the documents clear, that it is only a matter of time, that they have no control over this, that they will speak with their superiors and on and on and on, every excuse you can imagine. Eventually my energy gave out and I admitted defeat, retreating to one of the few places on this station that I truly love.

I've been here for hours. It's dark and almost deserted now, only two of the seats are taken, a mother and child who watch an approaching frigate come into dock with excitement in their eyes. The way the child jumps on the spot and the look in the mother's eyes tells me they've waited for this ship to return home for months, maybe it fought against Sovereign, or on Eden Prime, I don't suppose I'll ever know. When I was a teenager I spent hours here watching the ship come and go, imagining I was on them, fabricating amazing exploits and adventures that I had throughout the galaxy or waiting in anticipation for my parents to return from one of their own. It's one of the few genuinely peaceful places on this entire station yet it is still busy, energetic. It's easy to loose yourself in the comings and goings of ships, in the distance you can just make out blue flashes from the mass relay, through the bay windows you can watch families being reunited. It's seemed like an appropriate place to be.

Exhausted I had retreated into the furthest corner of the room, tucked my legs up underneath me and thought about the day.

They're going to give me a star, and a commendation, parade me around the colonies as a symbol of what humanity can achieve when we put our minds to it. Tomorrow their will be a ceremony and a dinner, I'll be expected to give a speech that inflates humanity's ego further, to talk to every dignitary, to pass off the accomplishments of my crew as those of our species, to lie and jump through their hoops in order to get my ship back. I should storm back in there and demand they listen, that there is more at stake, and that I am far from a hero. But I can't, maybe tomorrow, tonight I just wish to be still.

My eyes focus on the freighter coming into port, and from there to the out stretched arms of the Antarctica. I'm not sure how many people live here exactly but I know its thousands, how many arms would need to be destroyed to equal the Destiny Ascension? Two, three? The whole station? I try to imagine it, the fall out from it, the grief and anger we would have because of it. It would be classed as a terrorist act, it would start a war, and every year colonies across the galaxy would stop and stand in silence to remember those we lost. That's how the asari, and the turians and the other species that were aboard that ship must feel, because of me, because of my decision. The thought of the fact I defended this action sickens me. Does the context change the act, does the fact we were at war suddenly atone for it?

I rest my head against the back of my chair and close my eyes.

How could I stand and pretend it was the right choice when ten thousand people died, how can I pretend I'm anything other then a terrorist?

"This place is beautiful."

I don't need to look up to know it's her, I would recognise the lilted perfect way she forms her words anywhere.

"It is. Observation decks are always my favourite places, I like watching people without them knowing, you know?" Liara smiles at me as she comes to sit on the chair at my side.

"I can see the attraction in that. It is like conducting a scientific study. You remain impartial, removed and are able see how everything plays out around you knowing you have no control over it. Things will be the way they will be, it's very freeing." Closing my eyes I sink lower into my chair, pressing my knees against the row in front. "You looked very impressive today Commander, very imposing. Every person in that trail fell a little bit in love with you I think, I fear I did not come across quite so well."

"You were amazing Liara, they had no right to ask you the questions they did."

We fall into an awkward silence that becomes even to much for the mother and child to endure. The small boy grabs his mother by the hand and drags her from the room, leaving Liara and me alone. She takes a deep unsteady breath.

"I have the feeling you have been avoiding me Shepard." I roll my head to face her. "Ever since I told you about my leaving, you have been different, distant." Her eyes darken and glisten with pain. "I have heard that after having…after, after…" She closes her eyes as she says the word, "joining. That people often regret it taking place. If that is so then…"

"Oh Liara, no." Shaking my head I stand, walk to the panoramic window, and touch the glass gently with my hand "It's not…it's not you. It was never you."

"Then what?"

I drop my arm slowly, turn to her and give her a smile. "When I was a kid all I ever wanted was to be like my mother. Don't get me wrong my father was great, he was an engineer, used to love computers, and engines and fiddling with things till they broke. He would marry Tali if he didn't have my mother, and were a few years younger and, well you know, alive but his life just wasn't exciting." hooking my thumbs in my belt I shrug, "my Mom though, she was always travelling to the furthest end of the galaxy on exotic star ships and she'd come home with all these amazing stories that were classified, that she'd get court-marshalled for telling me." I turn back to the window, watching the mother and son greeting their returning soldier. "So she fabricated this hero, this alter ego, Evelyn, she called her, my grandmothers name. She wanted to name me after her I think, but my dad, well he wanted a boy, I guess they compromised." I shrug, morosely. "Evelyn used to do the most amazing things. She'd chase Batarian slavers, or liberate merchant freighters from pirates. Once I think she even saved a colony from elcor terrorists who were trying to crash a moon into the planet surface but I think I might be remembering it wrong. She had all these stories and I never knew if any of them were her but I...that's what I wanted to do when I grew up. It was all I ever wanted to do."

"Shepard." Liara stands, placing a hand on the small of my back. "What is this about?"

"I don't…" Closing my eyes I rest my head against the window. "I don't…damn it I don't know…." Clenching my fingers into a fist I beat it into the glass and shrug her away. "Why are you even here? You've fulfilled your obligation, you're not required to be here any longer, I thought you'd have jumped on the first cruiser out of here."

"Commander that is unfair, I have never-"

"What do you want Liara?" An abrupt uncontrollable fire rises in me, seeing her here, knowing she's leaving it's all suddenly too much and it explodes out of me. "I killed your mother, I killed those people, I…." gesturing outwards sharply I jar my ridiculous broken ribs that are refusing to heal, I should be used to the pain by now but each time it catches me unaware. "I…God damn it."

"What people Shepard?"

With shaking hands I reach for the pen in my pocket, Liara's voice nothing but static to me. I twist the end to increase the dose, place it on my neck, and press; nothing happens. I shake it, try again, still nothing.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it."

"How many dose have you had today Shepard?" Liara reaches across me, to take the pen from me. "Shepard?"

"Don't touch that Liara." I push her away from me forcefully.

She stumbles backwards, the hurt look on her face quickly changing to one of determination. A biotic charge shoots from her, knocking the med-pen away from me before shooting back at her.

"Give that to me Liara." My voice lowers, the frustration, the anger, the pressure of the past months all over taking me. My jaw clenches. "Now Liara."

"I will not Commander." She looks at me, back straight and defiant.

I stare her down, grinding my jaw, trying to hold it all back but my resolve breaks and I launch at her, all restraint gone. Pushing her back against the window, my hands find her neck and-

My eyes snap open and head lurches backwards, smacking against the observation room wall as I awaked into a daze.

The lights are low and I'm alone, my heart racing and hands trembling; visions of Liara's face as I attacked her flashing through my mind. I must have drifted off watching the ships come into port, the stiffness in my neck telling me I've been here for hours, the artificial darkness confirming it. Blinking I shake my head, trying to clear it, trying to force the images away, but they wont leave, they're burnt against my retina like I've stared too long at a sun. Standing I pace the room, rubbing my eyes with trembling fingers. Her face just won't leave me, not matter how hard I shake, how much I try to tell myself it's just a dream. I reach for my pain pen, apply it without thinking, the endorphins rush my system and suddenly I feel sick; staring at it in my hand I throw it away in disgust. I would never, I could never do that to her, raise my hand like that, I'm not that person, but even as I tell myself that, part of me sees that I'm not the same as I was, that the past few months have changed me.

I pause at the window, looking out onto the ship, trying to see passed my reflection. It looks back at me with storm coloured eyes and pale skin that is hollow and scarred. Lifting a hand I trace the sharp white line that segments my lips in two, memories flashing to a time when Liara had done the same, skin still tingling from her touch. If she looked at me now what would she think of me?

There is only one person on this station who I can talk to about this, who knows me well enough to understand, I've been avoiding her since I arrived but I think it might be time.

Turning on my heels I walk, almost run through the silent halls of the Antarctica, threading my way through bulkheads and corridors as I make my way to the apartment block. A passing advertisement tells me it's three in the morning, I hope she doesn't mind the early wake up but right now I don't have the luxury of waiting. Liara leaves in the two hours, passage on a ship that I booked for her myself, I can't wait till then to talk to her. Turning into a stairway I ascend upwards, snaking past doorways and apartments till I find the one I'm aiming for. I raise my hand over the door bell, hear it ringing inside, a moment of silence is followed by movement as the door splits in four. She looks at me with shock and fatigue, wrapping the green silk robe around herself tightly.

"Hello Jaclyn."

"Hey Mom."

xXoXx

The apartment hasn't changed in years it's exactly as it was the last time I passed through the industrial steels doors and stood beneath the vaulted ceilings almost fourteen years ago. I'm not saying that the décor hasn't changed, it's been repainted, the technology updated, the furniture replaced but the feel, the smell, my fathers books, my mothers trinkets, the holos and the paintings are all here; the things that matter haven't changed. The walls that used to a faded green have been repainted an off grey that was very in two or three years ago, every few feet there are more of the abstract artwork that my mother is so fond of but that I've never truly understood. I drawing my fingers across the spines of Jack Shepard's prized books I smile to myself at the memory of him and turn to study my mother as she pours herself a glass of deep pink wine.

Her hair, the same shade of red as mine but nearly twice the length is hanging loosely against her shoulders, her roots just beginning to grey. I'm struck by how much she has aged since the last time we spoke face to face, there are more lines around her eyes and shallowness to her skin; then again she has recently turned sixty. She was always an attractive woman I've seen holos of her when she was in her twenties and I think it's safe to say that my father had more of an influence over my genes then her. Still we share the same shape of our eyes and lips, similarities in the angularity of our face and identical smoothness in our skin but her looks have been diluted somewhere between her and me.

Looking up she catches me watching her, closes the fridge with the back of her foot and moves from behind the solitary kitchen island.

"I was wondering if I was going to see you today," She hands me a glass of wine, and takes a seat. "I wasn't expecting it to be this late but then again you always were a night owl so I guess this shouldn't be a surprise."

"I always got that from you." Looking to the desk in the corner I see the console flickering, data-pads and OSD's scattering around it. "Working late?"

"Still trying to acclimatise myself with station time again, you know how it is."

I nod, taking slow strides around the living room, glancing at the holo's on the walls that flickered into life as I passed. Pictures of my father in his Alliance uniform, of my parents on their wedding day, even a few of me as a child. I stop at one of these, watching the cascade of images as they pass through the stages of my life in intermittent jumps. It would be nice to say that they were aligned this way in some kind of montage to show the passage of time more effectively, the truth is that the time gaps between each picture matches the time between my parents tours of duty.

"How long have you been orbital?" I ask, moving away from a picture of me around the age of four wearing an officer's cap and step down into the sunken centre of the room. My mother shifts her head to me.

"A few months. The Orizaba was heading here for scheduled maintenance when you contacted me about Zabaleta so I decided to take my leave." She looks around her slowly. "I always did love this apartment."

During my childhood my parents moved around so much I struggle to remember even half of the places we've lived, but this apartment has always been constant. They lived here a few years before I was born, rented it between tours of duty, renovated it as they rose through the ranks before finally buying it just after I was born. While we as a family never stayed here longer then a year or two, its always been there and after my father died four years ago my mother moved in permanently spending every leave, every furlough, every spare moment here. I on the other hand haven't stepped through its doors since I was fourteen.

Captain Hannah Shepard sips her wine, studying me with her relentless steel grey eyes. "You look tired."

I pass my hand down my hair, smoothing it and take a seat opposite from her.

"It's been a busy few months."

"You always were modest. I sat in on the enquiry this morning for a few hours, judging by the brief section I heard 'busy' doesn't even begin to cover it. Defending the galaxy, fighting geth, becoming a Spectre. Your father would be so proud of you."

I give a small laugh. "As long as I remember which boot is which dad would be proud. He'd think all of this was overkill."

"He never did have much ambition. He could have been an officer on any star-ship in this fleet if he'd only gotten a hold of that damn spacer itch." Downing her wine she pours herself another glass. "Bloody idiot."

My stiff collar is chaffing against my neck, moving side to side in my chair I try to ease the irritation before deciding to unbutton it instead. Opposite my mother sits in silence, her fingers caressing the rim of her wine glass in slow circles and I reminded of how frighteningly alike we are.

"Do you regret not making up with him?"

There's a pause before she answers, her eyes darken a little as she sips her wine. "Do I wish the last time we saw each other had been under better circumstances, yes, do I think it would have made a difference?" She shrugged. "Well you know your father."

I wish I'd learnt to read her better that I understood what the inflections she put on her words meant, or how the way she held herself changed her intention. Instead no matter how hard I stare at her, I'm never any closer to clarity.

"Do you miss him?"

"It's never easy to loose people sweetie." She looks up at me under low lids, not quite answering the question. "Even in this life where we're faced with it more often then most, dealing with the death of people you care about doesn't get easier. I heard about your men, is that why you're here?"

"Jenkins and Alenko did their duty, they died heroes. I'm at peace with that."

Instead of replying she continues to stare at me, studying me the exact way she did when I was child and I'd broken one of her elcor carvings. She never pushed, never interrogated, simply stared at me with her intense eyes as my father ranted in the background, waiting for my will to break. I like to think that I'm too old and secure in myself to fall victim of her methods any more, but I'm lying to myself. I stand to get the eyes off of me.

"The nature of being in command means that you have to make hard decisions Jac, often people die, it's a bitter pill to take but one that comes with the territory. When you chose to take command of that ship and that crew you took on that responsibility."

"But I didn't chose this did I." I reply, annoyed. "I never asked for Anderson to step down, or to be given the Normandy. I never asked for that damn prothean vision to be shoved into my head." I twist my index and forefinger into my temple. "I never wanted to be the one who decides if thousand of people live or die Mom."

"The Destiny Ascension; is that what this is about?"

Picking up the wine glass I stare intently into it before swallowing it down. "I can't get it out of my head, the idea of that many lives just….ending. One decision and….You used to tell me such exciting stories about what you did on tour, what you never told me was how you dealt with them, with the guilt."

"I never felt guilt over my choices, you can't not if you want to command effectively. Every action I took was for the right reason, the outcomes of them, even when horrible were necessary. If your ability to command is compromised Jaclyn you need to step down immediately."

"Step down from what?" Gesturing outwards with my glass I scoff "They've taken my ship from me, or haven't you heard?"

"The way you're acting at the moment I'd say it was for the best."

"Gee, thank you for your unwavering support mother, I knew I could count on you when I'm in crisis." I throw the wine glass down onto the table and turn from her, heading to the door in a rage. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Why did you Jaclyn?" She yells after me. "Why did you come here?"

"Maybe I just wanted to spend time with the mother I haven't seen in three years."

"Bullshit." She spits, standing. "This is the first time I've seen you face to face since your father's funeral, even before that we only ever spoke when our schedules happened to bring us together. We barely talk, or write, you can't even look at me without getting angry. Then you turn up on my doorstep at an ungodly hour with out so much as an attempt at an explanation, which is fine, but I will not have you storming out of here like I'm the worst mother in the world because you don't agree with my advice."

I stop and turn to her slowly. "As far as I can see you haven't given me any advice, just snide comments. But that's nothing knew is it Mom? You never were any good at this."

"That's unfair, just because I didn't pander to your every mood swing like Jack did doesn't make me a bad parent. I know my own daughter and I can tell you right now, you are nothing like her."

"You said it yourself, we barely speak, what do you know about me?"

"I know your drowning in guilt over the Ascension and it's affecting your work." She begins walking towards me. "Screaming at your crew? Holding IntAf agents by the throat? Hiding from your responsibilities in distant parts of this station? That isn't you. You're emotionally and physically drained Jaclyn, anyone who knows you can tell you that and I imagine they have." She touches my shoulder. "Until you can get passed this you are in no fit state to command the Normandy."

"I need my ship Mom, I need it."

"I know honey, I honey. But what your ship needs is a commander they can believe in, who won't doubt every decision she makes, who won't hesitate to make that hard decision that will be the difference between the success or failure of a mission. You know how it goes Jaclyn, even if you make the right choice every time people still die, you can't help that and until you accept it you can't be the one who makes those choices again."

Straightening my back, setting my jaw I stare her down. "What if I can't?"

"Then you're not the person I think you are."

There's a moment between us where the air hangs heavy with silence and I can't quite think of the right words. Our stances match exactly, as do our faces, shrugging my jacket so it sits on my shoulders properly I turn from her, deciding in the end, to take the easy way out. Besides, I have a ship to catch.