A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

Chapter One - Looking into the Past

Shepard

It was quiet and dim in the loft. The only sounds were those of a ship in space and the soft bubbling of the fish tanks. A few fat goldfish that looked suspiciously like feeders swam there. That and the faint raspy sounds of breathing coming from the blanket covered lump on the bed.

There was the softest of dings over the intercom and then the lights in the loft slowly began to brighten. A quarter of the way through the brightening cycle – there was a mumbled complaint from the lump. A scarred hand reached out and grabbed a nearby pillow and pulled it over the top of the lump then disappeared back under the blanket.

In another few minutes the lights in the loft had reached their daytime level. The hand reappeared and pulled the pillow down tighter with another mumbled complaint; but didn't move otherwise.

With a hiss/click the intercom came on.

"Wakey, wakey…eggs and bakey!"

The lump shifted, but didn't do anything else. For a few moments silence reigned and then…

"Ham, ham – it's better than spam!"

Another twitch, still the lump didn't really move.

"Sunny side, funny side – side of eggs….."

"Dammit Joker, shut up!" Came the muffled and furious complaint from under the blankets.

"IT LIVES!"

"And you're gonna die!" With that the lump gave up the battle and the pillow and blankets were flipped to the side as Commander Shepard crawled out from under. For a moment she paused, looking at the empty space next to her on the bed. She stared at it as if it had some story to tell her that she didn't/couldn't understand.

"You up now, Commander?"

"No, I'm sleep walking." She growled then looked at her clock. "Why so early?"

"P.T. at Huerta E today. Doc Rosen wanted you there early for a quick check up."

"Oh." With a barely audible sigh she rolled to the edge of the bed. Slowly and carefully she got to the edge of the bed and lifted her legs over the side and let them dangle. Both legs were fearfully scarred, some of scars still red and angry from surgery, injuries, and burns, the knees and ankles thickened and misshapen. Defeating the Reapers had cost her, far more than most knew.

Almost twenty-one months since the end of the war and she was still recovering. Still trying to get back to some semblance of her former self. Deep inside she'd begun to realize that it might never be. Her body had taken just too much damage. As for her mind…

She just sat for a time, watching her legs. Slowly moving them back and forth to begin warming them up. Also in trying to remember any dreams that she'd had. Lately her dreams had all been audio. Sounds of battle, what she'd learned was a Reaper scream (that made her shudder even in remembrance), the groaning of a 'husk', a funny voice singing an odd Gilbert and Sullivan song, another raspy one saying 'Siha', and a deep laughing voice calling out 'Lola'.

She was supposed to journal all that she remembered; but she'd been hit or miss about it, partially because she thought that someone had been going through her journal when she wasn't around. She'd begun to wonder if paranoid was a symptom of her…

"You want me to call Huerta E and cancel?" Joker's question interrupted her thoughts.

"No, it's just a slow morning." She sighed. Of everyone around her, only Joker truly understood the difficulties she faced. He'd lived his whole life with this kind of disability. That's why he usually gave her an early wake up call. He knew how long it took to get moving in the mornings. Something, she was beginning to realize, that most of the others didn't, at least, not viscerally. To them she was supposed to be some sort of super woman, at least that's the impression they gave her at times. She wasn't that nor was she a complete invalid.

The dauntless Commander Jess Shepard, humanities golden girl, savior of the Galaxy, killer of Reapers, Alliance Navy, N7 Marine - oh and first human Council Spectre.

To herself she was just Jess Shepard, a veteran, not disabled, but not really abled either. A woman with an impressive past, most of which had been knocked clean out of her. She had amnesia.

In the hospital they'd told her that the amnesia was a combination of her injuries and all the trauma – physical and mental she'd endured. Whatever the cause – all she had now, above and beyond her dreams, were tiny flashes of memory from the period just before the chase for the rogue Turian Spectre they'd called Saren - to when she'd regained consciousness in the hospital.

The name Saren had sparked a tiny memory flash of a pale and oddly featured Turian. Occasionally flashes of faces and places and…. things sparked in the void of her memory. Had she really confronted, and taken out, some sort of eons old sentient plant? According to her file she had – but so much of it seemed like tall tales you'd tell a child.

Grabbing her cane from the side of the bed she slowly came to her feet. For a few moments she just stood there letting her body and her mind sync up; and then she slowly made her way to the bathroom. She did a few minutes of warm up and stretching exercises to make getting around easier. The bathroom had been reconfigured for her limitations and there were a lot of hand holds now. She made judicious use of them, her embarrassment long gone. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

As much as possible she avoided the mirror. In something of a miracle – her face was mostly unscarred; but at her forehead one deep scar ran from her hairline back over the left side of her skull. Mostly invisible save that now she had a stark white streak in her red hair.

After cleaning up and dressing she made her way out to the main cabin.

"Shepard, Lt. Corso is on his way down to your cabin." Joker informed her.

"I told him I'd call him when I was ready." She complained.

"He's an eager beaver as they say."

"He's a blasted guard dog is what he is." She grumbled. Over the last couple of weeks she'd slowly begun to resent Corso. He's an aide, they said. Bodyguard is what she thought. And she'd begun to wonder if he was protecting her from something or keeping her from something. He seemed to often redirect her conversations when she was trying to learn more about her past.

She hadn't noticed it at first; but now that she thought back on it, it was more evident. Also, it seemed as if most of her old crew were transferring off the Normandy. Some she could understand, going to help out in their hometowns, search for their loved ones; but not all of them.

One or two was normal; but in the numbers they were leaving it seemed something more than a coincidence, and she'd begun to wonder about it. It almost seemed as if they didn't want her talking to the old timers; but she couldn't understand why. They wanted her to get her memory back, or so they said. Again with the paranoia.

The Alliance needed her for this dog and pony show they were putting on around the planet. "To improve everyone's moral." they'd told her. Parading her around as the Savior of the Galaxy. When she'd pointed out that it hadn't been her alone, every species had helped, they gave her some song and dance about how right now they were just focusing on earth.

It sounded wrong and felt wrong to her; but she'd learned to keep her thoughts to herself. Saying the wrong thing didn't earn her any penalties; but she always felt like she was being watched extra carefully after one of those incidents. And she couldn't talk to the shrinks they had her seeing – they too all seemed to redirect some of the conversations she brought up. They were just more subtle about it than Corso. And who did they answer to? Not her; and she was beginning to think it wasn't Admiral Hackett either.

She'd have mentioned her misgivings to the Admiral; but his doctors had finally persuaded him to get some elective surgery he'd been dodging since before the end of the War. Once they'd gotten him into the hospital, they'd basically confiscated his clothes, cut him off from his aides, put him on an extended medical leave, and imprisoned him there while they did everything they'd been itching to do for months.

Hackett had been apoplectic when he realized what they'd done. She snorted; pretty sure he must have melted a few comm lines with his swearing. And probably traumatized more than a few nurses too, military or not.

Her door lock signaled about then. She turned to go open it, when, after a few seconds, it opened and came in.

Shepard schooled her face – she'd already told him – several times – she didn't want him coming in until she said so. This lack of respect had begun to bother her, as had a lot of things lately.

"Commander Shepard!" He smiled at her as he walked down to her. A middle-aged man, somewhat nondescript; but his build and his walk, and his scars said he was used to fighting.

"Lieutenant." Her voice was cool. As she drew breath to say something to him the door opened again and another of her guardians came in. Again without signaling.

Major Kaiden Alenko, nominally her XO but in truth the CO of the Normandy for this trip. He was a biotic, an old crewmate, and, so everyone said, an ex-boyfriend. She could understand why – he was quite good looking, kind, and very much a loyal soldier. Those big brown puppy dog eyes, while handsome made her think he might be a bit clingy. Again she didn't voice these thoughts. Some innate sense that had awakened recently kept her quiet, observing.

(That will be a first!) Came a rumbly voice from deep in her memories. She blinked, but didn't react otherwise. She'd recently begun hearing that deep voice at odd times. Usually with some smart-ass comment. She didn't recognize it; but she'd begun to think that she needed to find it.

"Shepard." Kaiden stepped down to her and gave her a little hug. She tolerated it. At least he'd stopped trying to kiss her, after she'd frozen in his arms the first few times. He hadn't been able to hide the hurt in his eyes; but she didn't know him and was leary about blindly trusting what everyone said. Maybe she'd always been paranoid.

Part of her would have welcomed just letting someone else shoulder the burden of her recovery. Somewhere inside, she knew she was weary to her bones of shouldering burdens, but deeper inside, an older and far warier part reminded her that she DID NOT really know these people. She had only their word that what they were telling her was the truth.

"We have time for breakfast before you head to Huerta E…"

Alenko began.

"A moment." She turned to Corso. "Lt., I've told you before – DO NOT come in until I give you leave!"

"Shepard…"the Biotic began.

"NO." She cut him off. "You tell me I'm CO and then he ignores most everything I say." She crossed her arms, "So what is it – am I CO or not?"

Both Corso and Alenko looked uncertain. Their hesitation was enough to convince her that there was something going on behind her back. Deciding that she wasn't going to fight this battle just yet. She relaxed, uncrossing her arms.

"We'll discuss it later. Breakfast you said – anything other than military rations?" She marked the way the slight tension they were carrying eased out of their bodies. She might not remember her recent past; but her N7 training was all the more vivid for being pushed to the front. One of the many hard lessons they'd taught in N7 was to NEVER take things at face value. She'd learned that lesson very, very well.

"The mess sergeant says yes." Alenko gave her a bright smile. Relieved idiot's smile she thought uncharitably as she started up the stairs to the door.

Suddenly there was a hand under her elbow to help. She came to a dead stop, drew herself up to her imposing but not very tall height and turned on Corso with… Again came that rumbly amused voice "I'm Commander Shepard and you're fucked!" look.

She was going to have a very long talk with the owner of that voice if she ever found him and if it wasn't some weird subconscious facet of her own personality.

"Lieutenant Corso, when I need help I'll ask for it!" Every word was bathed in liquid nitrogen. Corso snatched back his hand like it'd been burned and gave a sharp nod.

"Shepard." Alenko began and she turned on him.

"I can't get better if you baby me, Alenko." She cut him off. "Now, shall we go get breakfast before it's gone?"

Kaidin

After Kaidin had seen Shepard and Corso off to Huerta Earth, he went to the communications room and placed a call. It went through immediately and he found himself talking to Admiral Renfield, the man in charge while Hackett was confined to the hospital.

"Major, how is everything?" Renfield was thin and severe looking rather like he'd been sucking on something sour.

"The tour is going well, sir. People really seem to appreciate us." Kaidin liked being able to give people hope.

"And Commander Shepard?"

"She's going along with it for the moment; but feels that the Normandy should be doing a lot more recovery and assistance work and not," He paused, embarrassed. "..a dog and pony show."

"Morale is important, Major, remind her of that." Renfield ordered.

Kaidin sighed. "She knows that, sir; but she feels this tour has gone on far too long."

"What about her memory? Anything on that front?"

"She hasn't mentioned anything."

Renfield had noticed his phrasing. "You think she's remembered something and isn't saying anything?"

Kaidin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding his implant. "I don't know, sir. Shepard was always good at hiding stuff, and I'm getting the feeling that she might be doing it now."

"Well, make her talk!"

Kaidin gave a harsh bark of laughter. "You don't MAKE Commander Shepard do anything, sir. Either she will or she won't, and forcing her can be hazardous to one's health."

"She's one woman with amnesia." Renfield scoffed.

Alenko's voice was cool. "She's an N7, and she took down the Reapers. She's not just a woman." He paused, "You should get Vakarian here, sir. If anyone.." Before he could even finish Renfield interrupted him. "We're doing just fine without him, Major."

"Sir," Kaidin protested, though it was half hearted. "They were..were close. She trusts him."

"If they were so close, where is he now, Major?" Renfield pointed out.

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense. He got back to earth ahead of the Normandy and I'm betting that Shepard was the reason."

"Well, when he shows up, if he shows up, we'll deal with it." Renfield assured him. "Keep me informed, Major."

With a sharp nod, Alenko shut down communications.

Back at Alliance Headquarters, Renfield turned to his fellow officer, Colonel Pace.

"You didn't tell him?" Pace frowned.

"Alenko's a boy scout. I'm afraid if he knew I'd warned Vakarian off, he'd do something about it." The older man scowled.

"Sounds like she isn't falling for her old boyfriend." Pace observed.

"I don't know why. Alenko is a good soldier, a good man, and, so I understand, a handsome one." Renfield was frustrated. "What's not to like?"

"She seems to prefer something a little more exotic, Marc." Pace was amused. That hit a nerve and Renfield scowled.

"She's Humanities Hero," he snapped. "She represents the best of us and should be with another hero."

"She was with another hero." Pace pointed out,"he just isn't human." Renfield's look would have frozen lava.

Renfield always seemed, to Pace, to have a dreadnought sized bee in his bonnet about aliens, and Shepard's relationship with her Turian XO had annoyed him no end. Pace didn't totally understand her choice; but it was her life, after all.

"Where is Vakarian? He's a hero to more than just the Turians; but I haven't heard a word about him from any body or any place for some time now." Pace had seen the big, battle scarred Turian when he'd arrived back on earth, but since then he seemed to have dropped off the map.

Renfield frowned. "We think he's with the Turian Primarch; but if so he's been keeping a low profile."

"You did 'point out' that life could get difficult for his girlfriend, Marc, if he went anywhere near her." Pace pointed out. He really hadn't liked what he'd heard of Renfield's tactic. Not at all fair to a man who'd helped save Earth, just hadn't been born human. Pace had protested; but Renfield had already spoken to the Turian.

Yeah, it would be nice if Shepard was with a human; but who were they to dictate who she was with; particularly after all she had done for the galaxy. And the Turian had been there from the start.

Given what he knew of Shepard, if she ever remembered and then found out what had been done – someone was in for a world of hurt. The Reapers would be tame by comparison, because he doubted she'd be very forgiving.