Watched Mass Effect: Paragon Lost for the first time last night, and I was totally inspired to write this little piece. I originally intended it to be a one-shot, but depending on the response I get, I may actually expand on it. Enjoy!

It's almost midday. There's a lone shadow in a small room in the slums of Omega, hunched low on a sofa, elbows on his knees, flipping a badge between his calloused fingers.

"Huh," he lets out a humourless laugh. "Lieutenant Commander. Me."

He should be proud and honoured by the promotion, but all he could feel is fury, hatred and bitterness towards himself and towards the disgusting bug-like creatures known as the Collectors.

"Fucking bugs," he whispers to himself, his hands shaking with rage as his mind reluctantly drifts to thoughts of the attack on Fehl Prime.

Sunlight creeps through the chink in the curtains, illuminating a small object on the coffee table before the Lieutenant. It gleams and catches his attention. He reaches across the table and picks it up, placing it in the palm of his hand.

It's a blue badge with a miniature Normandy SR-1 in the centre. He stares at it, sadness quickly replacing the fury that consumed him a few moments ago.

"I wonder what you would've done, Commander," he says, his hazel-green eyes fixed on the badge. "I bet you would've saved everyone. Everyone…"

He wears this badge proudly on his chest on every mission he's ever been in since the Commander's death was announced two years ago. He still remembers the day it was announced. He had just come back from the gym in Alliance HQ in Vancouver. Just before he was ready to jump into the shower, he overheard the news on the vid his roommate was watching.

"Commander Shepard, Hero of the Skyllian Blitz and saviour of the Citadel, has been killed while on active duty on the Normandy. The Commander was only 29 years old."

He remembers how his heart skipped a beat when he heard the name. He remembers how his knees trembled when he saw the picture of a young and pretty brunette in her dress blues, looking straight at the camera with her intense, deep brown eyes- eyes that pierced and made him feel as though they could see right through him, even as he stared at her unmoving face in the vid.

He remembers how he just stood there in her Memorial, feeling numb. He remembers how genuinely distraught everyone appeared, especially that raven-haired Lieutenant who served with the Commander on the Normandy, Lieutenant Alenko.

It was such an unfitting death for such an incredible woman. And it was way, way too soon.

The young man jumps in his place and nearly drops the badge from between his fingers when a loud knock on the door snaps him out of his reverie. He quickly puts away the badge and pulls out his pistol, pointing it readily at the door.

He doesn't move a muscle until he hears three more knocks.

"James?" a familiar voice calls out.

James immediately puts down his pistol and stares at the door in disbelief.

"Anderson?" he asks, his voice filled with incredulity.

"Open up," Admiral Anderson orders.

James quickly stows away the pistol and strides towards the door. He peeks through the peep hole, still unable to believe his ears.

It was Admiral Anderson alright; navy and gold Admiral's suit and everything.

"Admiral," James swings open the door and salutes. "Didn't expect you here, of all places."

"It's not where I'd normally be, that's for sure," Anderson responds, brushing past James into the dingy apartment. "What on earth are you doing here, Lieutenant?" he asks as he looks around the less than pleasant surroundings. "Omega? Of all places!"

"Had to get away," James shrugs as he follows the Admiral back into the apartment. "Wanted to clear my mind after that Fehl Prime incident."

"Ever heard of the Citadel?" Anderson jokes.

"Too fancy for my tastes, Admiral," James replies. "Besides, aint no place like Afterlife."

"I asked around for you there," Anderson says, taking a seat on the sole couch in the tiny apartment. "You're not too popular with the Batarians, I'll tell you that much."

"What human is?" James asks bitterly.

"I heard you got into quite the scuffle with a few of them there," Anderson says, eyeing James critically.

"Yeah, a few of 'em got angry after I ripped off a vidscreen," James shrugs.

"And why would you do that?" Anderson asks with genuine curiosity.

"News on the destruction of the Alpha relay and the Bahak system got them all outta control," James explains, casually pacing before the coffee table. The Normandy badge gleams again and catches his eye. "Once it was announced that an Alliance Officer was allegedly responsible for that shit, all hell broke loose. So, I decided to take things under control and just get rid of the damned thing."

Anderson follows James' gaze and falls on the Normandy badge. He bends over and picks it up, twirling it around in his fingers.

"Still planning on following in Shepard's footsteps, Lieutenant-Commander?" Anderson asks after a pause, his eyes still fixed on the badge.

"She'll always be a role model worth living up to, Sir," James replies honestly.

"Yeah," Anderson nods lightly. "She most definitely is one hell of a role model," he almost whispers. The Admiral seems a bit lost in his own thoughts, so James nods and awkwardly clears his throat. Anderson starts at the sound and his eyes shoot up to meet James'.

"I need you to come back with me to Alliance HQ, Lieutenant."

"What? In Vancouver?" James asks in disbelief. "With all due respect, Sir, I have no intention of going back to Alliance HQ right now. I came here to get away from all that for a while. Take some time to breathe."

"Unfortunately for you, you don't really have that much of a choice in the matter," Anderson says, standing up with the Normandy badge still in his hands.

"Sir?" James asks with bewilderment.

"I need you for a job," Anderson explains. "An important one."

"What job?"

"We have the Alliance Officer who destroyed the Alpha Relay in custody," Anderson says after a pause. "They're under house arrest. I'm assigning you the task of guarding the prisoner until they stand trial."

"A personal guard?" the Lieutenant repeats with incredulity. "Me? Don't you have guards for that kind of thing, Sir?"

"We don't want guards, Lieutenant. We need you."

"But-"

"Enough, Lieutenant," Anderson orders him sternly. "When you signed up with the Alliance, you knew that you'd have to accept whatever post was given to you. Now pack your things. We're leaving."

With a huge sigh of defeat, James nods and mumbles a disheartened "yes, Sir" before shuffling off to collect what little belongings he brought with him to Omega.

"Our ship's waiting in the docks," Anderson says from the door. He proceeds to shut the door behind him before he stops and partially steps back into the apartment. "Lieutenant," he calls out. James turns around to look at him. "Catch," the Admiral says, tossing a small object across the room at James. He leaves as James uncurls his fingers to reveal the object.

The Normandy gleams up at him, hardening his resolve. Commander Shepard would never turn down a post, no matter what it was. He nods once to himself and resumes packing his things.

"This way, Lieutenant," Anderson says, a few steps ahead of James.

"Dios…Can't I get a little sleep and a hot meal first, Admiral?"

"Later," Anderson says as he strides down the seemingly never-ending corridor. He finally stops before a closed apartment door. He knocks thrice and stands back.

"It's open," a deep, female voice calls out. James could swear it sounds familiar…

Anderson quietly opens the door and nods once at James before stepping in. Curiosity flooding through him, James hesitantly follows the Admiral into the apartment.

James lets out a low whistle as his eyes sweep around the expensive and swanky-looking apartment. An Officer's apartment.

He spots someone sitting on the sofa in the far end of the room. She's looking down at a datapad, her face partially hidden behind her chin-length, chocolate-brown hair. She seems engrossed in whatever it is that she's reading- she didn't even look up at to see who just came in.

"Looks like you've made yourself at home," Anderson says, smiling at the woman. She immediately looks up to meet Anderson's gaze, and James' heart nearly jumps out of his throat.

Holy hell-

"Not much choice, Anderson," she replies in that unmistakeably familiar deep voice. She stands up and places the datapad on the couch, striding over to where Anderson and James stood.

"Seeing as I'm stuck here, might as well make the most of it," she says with a heavy dose of sarcasm, holding out her hand to shake Anderson's. Her brown eyes slide over to meet James' dumbstruck gaze, her eyebrows rising lightly when she sees the expression on his face. He clears his throat and very quickly collects himself.

"Commander, this is Lieutenant Vega. He very recently destroyed a Collector ship on Fehl Prime."

"I heard about that," the Commander smiles ever so slightly, extending her hand towards James, who slowly takes it in his own for a shake. He's surprised by the firmness of her grip- she's not exactly the most muscular woman he'd ever seen.

This isn't real, he thinks to himself. I'm dreaming. Commander Shepard?! But she's dead! Madre, she's frikking dead!

"Commander Shepard," she says in an authoritative voice- the voice he'd heard countless of times from the Commander Shepard VI he'd illegally downloaded for free from the extranet.

"James Vega," he says in a voice so calm and confident, he surprises even himself. "It's an honour, Commander."

"Vega here has the honour of being your guard, Shepard," Anderson informs her. Her smile immediately turns to a frown.

"A guard? Really, Anderson? What, you expect me to make a run for it or something?"

"You know that's not true, Shepard," Anderson says. "This is for your own protection. You've angered an entire race by what you did back in the Viper Nebula."

"Like a Batarian would risk coming to Alliance HQ on Earth," she scowls. "They're not exactly difficult to spot in a crowd of humans, Anderson."

"We're not taking any chances, Shepard," Anderson replies. "This is for your own safety."

Shepard lets out a humourless laugh and stalks back towards the datapad on the couch.

"All right then," Anderson says. "I just wanted to introduce you two to each other. James, your room is right opposite Shepard's. Commander, just buzz the intercom if you need anything."

"You mean she's not allowed out of this place?" James asks Anderson.

"No, I'm not," Shepard replies curtly. "It wouldn't be called 'house arrest' if I were, would it?"

"Dios…" James shakes his head and looks at the Commander. He still can't believe what his eyes are seeing, but he also can't help but feel sorry for the Commander. She saved the galaxy from a reaper attack by blowing up that relay, and this is how they thank her?

"We'll leave you now, Commander," Anderson says. "Don't take this too hard, Shepard," he says in a softer voice when he sees the furious expression on her freckled face. "You know that this is just protocol to appease the Batarians."

"I'll be fine, Anderson," she replies in a hard tone.

"I know you will," the Admiral replies in an affectionate tone that takes James by surprise. "Like I said, just buzz if you need anything. James is right opposite you."

"Uh-huh," she nods once without looking away from the datapad.

Still mad. She's got a temper, that one.

Anderson then beckons James out of the apartment.

"Really, Admiral?" James says as soon as they're out. "Commander Shepard? I thought she was dead! The entire galaxy thought she was dead!"

"The news of her death was a bit… premature," Anderson replies.

"I'll say! The woman's right there, reading a datapad!"

"Guard her well, Lieutenant," Anderson says gravely. "I know she's not the first person you'd think would need guarding, but in there, she's helpless. No weapons, no armor, no nothing."

"I will, Sir," James salutes.

"Good," Anderson nods and returns the salute. "Now go look around your new crib. I'm sure you'll find it a bit more pleasant than that pigsty you called home in Omega," he smiles.

"Aye, aye, Sir," James grins and eagerly heads over to his new apartment.

After a quick sweep through the place (dios, there's a Jacuzzi!), James flings his backpack in the bedroom and lies on his stomach on the bed, pulling out the Normandy badge from his pocket.

How in hell did this happen?

One moment, he's grieving his role model's death, and the other, he's living right opposite her, assigned the position of her personal guard while she's under house arrest for blowing up an entire frikking system.

He laughs to himself and twirls the badge around, shaking his head as he watches the Normandy gleam.

Why am I surprised? he thinks to himself. I mean, who else would blow up a mass relay and an entire system and live to tell the tale?