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Chapter Text

Garrus

For almost six months straight, Garrus never stopped working. 

Day after day, morning until night, he pushed the limits of what was bureaucratically possible to accomplish with an “Official Reaper Task Force.” He wielded his token role of Expert Advisor like a rusty blade, relentlessly hacking, prodding, and sawing at the fossilized knots of government procedures. It was exhausting, and frustrating. And it was never enough.

But it was a start, he supposed. So far, thanks to Garrus’ influence, the Hierarchy had at least hardened their lines of communications, expanded emergency stockpiles across colonies, and improved all early warning detection protocols. It was better than nothing- but they still had a long way to go.

He only stopped to sleep; and he always slept where he landed. He pushed through burnout with (way too many) stims. He argued with obstructionists until his voice went raw. He almost ended up in physical altercations with two (or three) prominent politicians. 

He did as much as he could (legally) get away with... and maybe a little more.

Of course, he also tried to check in at home whenever he could. But those moments were always hurried, and had become increasingly rare.

Perhaps the only upside to the situation was that he was so busy, he didn't have time to think about how much he missed Shepard.

Well, mostly.

Sort of.

...

Anyway... he should probably get back to work.

The day after Livia Donidus Vakarian passed away, Garrus realized he’d finally reached his limit. 

After a miserable afternoon coordinating with relatives and bereavement officials, he needed to get some air. The upper balcony outside his family’s urban residence had been a favorite spot of his growing up- it usually helped clear his head. 

When he stepped outside, he was relieved that no one else was there. He angled a chair toward the familiar view of Palaven’s capital city, and when he finally let himself sit down... damn it, he may as well have weighed himself down with steel cables. He was just so spent- in body, mind, and soul- that he honestly feared he might never be able to get back up. 

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through the sprawl of their district. It was strange, Garrus thought as he took it all in, how everyone else in the world seemed to just... carry on. 

His sister Solana eventually found him outside. He didn’t mind. She let out a long sigh as she sat down next to him, then quietly folded her hands together while her weary gaze fixed listlessly ahead.

Garrus' heart twisted at the sight of her. Spirits... had she always looked so much like their mother? 

“Dad’s too proud to bring it up,” Sol finally said, “But, I wanted to say thank you.”

Garrus wasn’t sure what she might be referring to. “For what?” He asked.

“For paying for everything,” she answered numbly. “The private doctors... the in-home care...you know, all of it.”

Garrus shook his head. Either he wasn’t thinking straight, or Sol wasn’t making any sense. He honestly couldn’t tell the difference right now. “What are you talking about?” 

“Whatever, have it your way,” she waved him off, “You’re an ‘anonymous donor.’ I don’t care how you got the money. Just know that I’m... that Dad and I... you should know that we’re grateful.”

Garrus still didn’t understand, because he hadn’t paid for anything. He’d tried to- but the service administrator insisted it had already been covered. He’d assumed their father and uncle had taken care of it. “Sol, I-”

“That’s all I wanted to say,” she abruptly stood up and went back inside, leaving him alone with the sunset.

Garrus sighed. Right now, he didn’t give a crap about who had paid for what, or how. What the hell did it matter? Money couldn’t save his mom; and it couldn’t fix his broken heart. 

Damn it... he wished Shepard were here.  

He hadn’t been able to talk to her in over six months, but Garrus wasn’t ready to accept that she might be gone from his life for good. This wasn’t like the last time he’d lost her, he tried to remind himself. This time, she was still alive, and her trial on Earth was still ongoing. Final decisions about her fate by the powers that be had yet to be made.

He knew it would be a long shot... but Garrus was desperate to believe there was still a chance that he would hold her in his arms again; a chance that he could cheer her up with a stupid joke; a chance that she might softly whisper in his ear that they were in this mess together- always- for whatever trouble or hardship may come.

But right now, she was lightyears away... and her warm embrace was only a fading memory.

The sun eventually dipped below the horizon, and Garrus submitted to the stark chill that settled over him with the night air. As the temperature dropped, his body tensed and shivered in defiance; but he forced himself to endure it. To welcome it. He didn’t know why. 

He lifted his gaze toward Menae, Palaven’s largest moon, as it waxed brightly overhead. Garrus would have to head back there first thing in the morning to coordinate with his taskforce. He had no choice; there was still so much to do, and he still felt like he was fumbling around in the dark.

Garrus didn’t know it yet, but in the months to come, he would look back on this moment in time with sober ambivalence. Might he have done anything differently, he would wonder, if he’d known that in just five days, Palaven would burn?

At the time, could he have possibly accepted that Liv Vakarian had been one of the lucky ones?

She suddenly called his name, urging him to come in from the cold. He turned toward the sound of her voice... but she wasn’t there. He knew she wouldn't be.

But, he finally made himself stand up, stretch his aching limbs, and abide her just the same.

Spirits... if only he’d understood back then, that his poor mother had died just in time.

Chapter Text

James

Dios, James rolled his eyes with exasperation. Just how much longer was this gonna take? 

They’d been in court all damn morning, and he was fucking bored. There was another delay- something about new evidence- and they all had to just sit and wait for the arbiter to come back and get things moving again. He glanced at Shepard, who sat quietly at the table she shared with James and her legal team. One of her advocates leaned in to speak in her ear, and she nodded patiently at whatever they were telling her.

James checked the time again, and wondered if anyone would notice if he got up and went for a walk while the arbiter sorted his shit out.

He stifled a sigh. Enough with the daydreaming, he told himself. Like it or not, this was his job. When she was in court, he was in court. Full stop. He couldn’t even step away to take a piss.

James never would have volunteered for this assignment- but when Admiral David Anderson himself came to you with a special request- you didn’t say no. Not if you had any self-respect, anyway. So, for now, Lt. James Vega was basically a glorified babysitter for the galaxy’s most famous scapegoat.

Before the trial, he’d never met Commander Shepard personally, but he’d heard plenty of stories; some were good, some were bad, and almost all of them were beyond belief. Her ego was probably off the charts, he thought. Hell, it was more likely than not that she’d be a total asshole.

But, when he finally met her in person, she wasn't like that at all.

She was just... tired.

Like, really, really tired.

James had to take her to and from the courthouse almost every day. And, almost every day, he had to threaten to drag her ass out of bed so they wouldn’t be late (again).

Thankfully, she was otherwise pretty easy to work with. She just seemed to be on autopilot most of the time. She was polite and professional; but usually didn’t speak unless spoken to; and she never, ever complained about her situation. Not once. At least, not that James had ever heard. 

In the evenings, he’d bring her back to her dormitory, and she’d just collapse back into bed. Then, as shitty as he felt about it... James had to comply with his direct orders, and would lock her inside.

She might still be a Spectre... but she’d officially surrendered herself to the Alliance, so this was how it had to be. And this trial was meant to be the first of many, so they were both stuck in this bullshit routine for the foreseeable future.

James supposed he (mostly) believed Commander Shepard’s explanation for blowing up the Bahak relay; that she’d had no choice but to stop an imminent Reaper invasion. It made sense, anyway; Why else would she have done something so batshit loco?

But the Hegemony had their own take: They said it was an ‘outlandish excuse’ for Shepard’s real motivation: To exact revenge against all batarians for the fate of Mindoir. James wasn’t convinced they had it right, but he had to admit; if he hadn't known Shepard at all, their argument would also (sort of) make sense. He had absolutely no idea which way this whole thing was going to go.

He nearly whooped out loud when the arbiter finally returned to the courtroom. Then he noticed Ambassador Darla Kho- the rep from Khar'Shan- looking pretty damn smug as she turned to address the court; Something must have just gone her way.

James wondered again if anyone else had been as surprised as he was that the batarian legal ambassador was an asari.

The way James heard it, Kho’s father had been a batarian from the top political caste, and she was currently the only alien citizen of the Hegemony. Even her mother- who'd raised her on the batarian homeworld- was only a ‘guest of the state.’

Kho was fiercely protective of the batarian race, and had been promoting batarian interests in galactic politics for over a hundred years. She was experienced, pragmatic, and persuasive. And since the start of the trial, she’d argued almost every day that Commander Shepard was a violent terrorist, and should be extradited to Khar’Shan to avoid an intergalactic war.

Yep. Batshit loco.

When the proceedings finally resumed, Ambassador Kho made her announcement. “We submit the following evidence into consideration,” she read from her data pad, “N7 Audio Record of Lieutenant Reyna L. Shepard... recorded live during the Blitz of 2176.” 

Gasps and murmurs careened around the room. “Where the hell did they get that?” Shepard’s legal advisor hissed to his colleagues.

“Order in the court,” the arbiter reminded them with an dour frown. 

Hold on... the Blitz?  Wasn’t Shepard awarded the Star of Terra for kicking so much ass that day? What the hell were they about to hear?

James was more confused than ever when the audio started in the middle of the action. Sounds of combat suddenly filled the courtroom, booming with war cries and gunfire.

But most clearly of all was the sound of Shepard ruthlessly taunting her enemies.

“Fuck you!” Her frenzied voice hollered, “You want some? Fuck yeah, you want some more? Eat it, you piece of shit! EAT IT MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Daaaamn, she sounded pissed. But, so what? Since when is it not ok to psych yourself up in a life-or-death fight? 

“I hate you!” She finally screamed hysterically, “I hate you I hate you I HATE YOU! You fucking animals! I FUCKING HATE YOU ALL!!”

Holy shit... that was, uh... okay, this was not good.

Eventually, the action faded, and all that was left was the sound of Shepard sobbing and gasping for air. “I hate you... I hate you... I hate you...” she choked out between labored breaths.

But then... there was something else; it was faint at first, but was soon unmistakable. 

It was the wailing of a child.

Oh, Dios...

“Papa!” A tiny batarian voice cried. “Papa!”

“Wait, wh-what?” Shepard sputtered incredulously, “What are you-?”

“You killed my paaapaaaaa!” They bawled.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shepard cried, “Oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god! Just hold still!”

“Get away from me!” The child shrieked in terror, “I hate you! You killed my papa! You killed my papa! You killed my papaaaaa….”

Then the child went quiet. 

Everyone knew why.

“Wake up, Shepard,” she whispered to herself over the recording, “Please, please wake up... oh my god... please...”

Ambassador Kho cut the audio. “You said you needed proof of Shepard’s violent hatred toward batarians,” she challenged the tribunal. “So now, I ask you: What more proof could you possibly need?”

A frenzy of objections and accusations erupted from the Alliance legal team; shit had just gotten real! James instinctively turned to look at Shepard; and then nearly jumped out of his chair in panic.

Because for a split second, he thought she might be dead.  

She stared straight on with unfocused eyes, completely unresponsive to the sudden commotion. Holy shit, James had never seen anyone look so empty. Her body was still here in this room, but it was like the rest of her had just decided to get up and leave...

...And without so much as an ‘adios.’

Chapter Text

James

A few months ago, James had been on his way to pick up Shepard for court, and he’d accidentally overheard a conversation that definitely wasn’t meant for his ears- and was way above his pay grade.

He'd arrived at Headquarters a little early that morning with a thermos of fresh coffee, hoping he might skip the whole “up and at ‘em, sleepyhead ” routine with Shepard if he showed up with caffeine in hand. But before he rounded the last corner to her dormitory, he overheard several people engaged in a tense discussion; He soon recognized the voices of Commander Shepard and Admiral Anderson- which wasn’t unusual- but then he identified a third voice that stopped him in his tracks.

Admiral Hackett??

What the hell was he doing here? Hackett was supposed to be at Arcturus Station. Why didn’t anyone tell James he was coming here to talk to Shepard? Shit, he would have put on a uniform and shined his shoes. For a split second, he wondered if it was too late to run back to his apartment and clean himself up for a formal greeting…

But he knew he didn’t have that kind of time. So, should he leave, or wait, or...?

“This is getting out of hand,” he heard Hackett say.

“This was always out of hand, sir,” Shepard replied.

“Kho is a variable we didn’t account for,” Anderson admitted, “But my sources assure me that she doesn't have any more intel about Bahak than we do.”

“But she’s better,” Shepard insisted. “Our lawyers can hardly keep up. If she has anything up her sleeve for this trial, I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.”

“It may be time for a change of plans,” Hackett went on, “I can testify that I specifically ordered you to blow up that damn relay.”

Whoa... James felt his whole body tense with alarm. What the fuck had he just stumbled into?

“You’re gonna lie under oath?” Shepard scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll fix everything.”

“It might be the only option we have left to keep you out of batarian hands,” Hackett argued.

“Sir,” Shepard sighed, “It’s too late for that. Falling on your own sword is only going to hurt Earth at this point.”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Anderson chimed in. “We’re still months away from a ruling.”

“Months that will be wasted,” Shepard countered. “Let’s face it- the best thing would be for me to surrender to the Hegemony now, so the Alliance can focus on preparing for the Reapers.”

“Extraditing you to Khar'Shan won't change anything, Shepard,” Hackett insisted. “As far as the Reapers are concerned, we’re already doing everything we can.”

“And we all know it’s not enough,” Shepard reminded them.

They were quiet for a moment. James held his breath, still unsure whether it would be right to turn the corner and make his presence known. 

“Character witness testimonies begin today,” Anderson finally pointed out. “They’ll be singing Shepard’s praises- we shouldn’t give up on the chance for an acquittal; Not yet.”

“Speaking of which,” said Shepard, “I’m due in court in less than an hour- Lieutenant Vega will be here soon to pick me up.”

Hackett sighed after another short pause. “We’re going to figure this out, Shepard.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Then the Admirals finally left, and James could hear their footsteps echoing down the corridor in the opposite direction. 

He counted to five before rounding the corner, hoping to appear casual.  “Morning, Commander,” he greeted her as he handed her the thermos.

James wondered if he was just imagining the hint of suspicion in her glare. “Thanks,” she eyed him warily as she accepted the beverage, “I thought I smelled coffee.”

A few months later, James found himself heading to Shepard’s dormitory after hours in the late evening. But this time, instead of a thermos of coffee, he was carrying a bottle of booze.

After what happened in court today with the N7 recording of the Blitz, he decided he could bend the rules a little for the commander’s sake. That shit was brutal. Fucking loco.  

“Yo,” he greeted her through the intercom outside her door, “Special delivery.”

“Okay,” she replied dully from inside.

He let himself in, and spotted her on the couch in the sitting area. She slowly turned her head in his direction, and he held out the bottle for her to see. “Real Kentucky bourbon,” he stated proudly.

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Whoa... where’d you get that?”

“The commissary,” he lied. It had actually come from his own locker. He hadn't really been saving it for anything specific- but he figured the right occasion would eventually present itself.

And a part of him always suspected the occasion wouldn’t be a happy one.

“Hot damn,” Shepard said with strained enthusiasm. “I haven't been since before I died. The best they had back then was that awful red candy schnapps.”

James suppressed a gag. “Nasty,” he agreed as he quickly rummaged through the cupboards for a few glasses.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Shepard mused dully as James took a seat across from her and poured their bourbon. “Ever since that bullshit in the Bahak system, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it.” She let out a bitter chuckle as she held up her drink in toast. “So that means that every single day that you see me, it's on the worst day of my life.”

He realized this was the first time he'd ever heard her complain about her plight. “Damn, that’s messed up,” he granted her as they clinked their glasses together.

“Uuggghhh, shit,” she rasped after downing her drink in one gulp, “I forgot this is my first drink in six months.”

James chuckled and downed his own glass. It was sorta strange; Shepard hadn’t spoken to him this much since they’d first met. But after what happened in the courtroom today, he guessed it made sense that she needed a friendly ear.

“You play cards, Vega?” She suddenly asked him.

“Hell yeah,” he said, “But are you sure you wanna drink and gamble? Shit might get outta hand.”

“I knew you were a closet hard-ass,” she accused him with a half smirk, “You almost had me fooled with that folksy ‘bro’ vibe you’ve got going.”

He let out another short laugh as he filled their glasses again. “Yeah, you got me, Commander.”

Shepard suddenly hung her head and sighed. “Please don’t call me that anymore,” she said wearily.

Shit. James didn’t really know what to say in response. He wasn’t very good at this whole ‘words of encouragement’ thing. “Erm, right. So...” He pushed on, “You got a deck somewhere in here, or...?”

She gestured to the table between them. “In the drawer,” she said. “But my credit account is still frozen- I don't actually have any money.”

He found the cards and proceeded to give them a quick shuffle. “Doesn’t have to be a betting game,” he assured her. 

“True,” she agreed. “Do you know how to play Go Fish?”

“Everyone knows how to play Go Fish, Commander,” he smirked as he started to deal their hands.

She frowned. “I said not to call me that anymore,” she reminded him.

“Sorry,” he said with a grimace, “Force of habit.”

“Heh, good thing we weren’t betting,” Shepard admitted sheepishly after James won again.

“Best three out of five?” He offered graciously.

“Nah,” she waved him off.

It was just as well, James decided as he poured them the last of the bourbon; he was tired and buzzed, and he could tell she was too. It was time to wind down.

“So anyway,” Shepard sighed as she leaned back into the couch. “What’s next for you, Vega? After all this ‘liaison’ bullshit, I mean.”

He shrugged. “They don’t tell me my assignments ahead of time,” he said. “But I guess I like it that way. Keeps me on my toes.”

“Hm,” she grunted vaguely before knocking back the rest of her drink.

James almost asked her the same thing, but caught himself as he realized what a dumb question it would be. “Hey, listen,” he offered instead, “I know the brass has your profile locked down. Is there anyone out there you want me to get a personal message to? Anyone you need to touch base with?”

She said nothing at first, and James wondered if that had been an even dumber question. Damn, he really wasn’t any good at this!

“I wouldn’t even know what to say,” she finally replied with a tight voice. “It’s been six months, and I don’t... I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again.”

James sighed. He didn’t mean to bring her down, and he hated to leave on such a depressing note. He decided to risk a little more conversation before calling it a night. “Sounds like there was someone special,” he ventured with a forced chuckle. “Didn't think you'd have time for that kind of thing between all the world-saving, dying, resurrecting, and more world-saving.”

To his relief, she smiled. “Yeah, well,” she said, “It helped that he was saving the world, too. I couldn’t have done it without him."

So, she must have hooked up with someone from the Normandy crew. “Surprised anyone with Cerberus was able to turn your head,” he said, “Must have been a hell of a guy.”

She put her empty glass on the table and let out a wide yawn. “He wasn’t with Cerberus,” she corrected him as she laid herself down on the sofa. “He was with me.”

“Heh, shoulda known,” he replied as he stood up and stretched his own limbs. He was a little unsteady on his feet, and had to catch himself from stumbling. 

He grabbed a blanket from behind the couch and spread it out over Shepard. It wasn't cold in the room, but it seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. He felt really bad for her. Shepard actually seemed pretty cool- but after what happened in court today, what the hell was she going to do now?  Short of a legal or political miracle, she was pretty much screwed.

Que sera, sera, he thought to himself as he made sure her feet were tucked in. Then he dimmed the lights before heading out.

“I never thought I'd find peace,” Shepard murmured absently, “In the arms of a turian…”

Wait, did he hear that right? “A turian?” James echoed.

But she'd already started to snore. 

The next morning, James awoke to the chime of an incoming priority message.

It was from Admiral Anderson, alerting James that Shepard’s trial was suspended indefinitely, and instructing him to escort Shepard to the Defense wing of Alliance Headquarters immediately.

What the fuck? He rubbed the grogginess from his eyes and read it again. 

Apparently, a fleet of batarian refugees had suddenly appeared in Alliance space, requesting emergency asylum. 

And Khar'shan had gone completely dark.

Does this mean what I think it means? James wondered with a hitch of dread.

“We gotta go,” he announced when he met Shepard in her dorm, “The Defense Committee wants to see you.”

She frowned with annoyance and tossed her datapad on the table. “Sounds important,” she muttered warily before reluctantly following him out.

Chapter Text

There's been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn't true. People are quick to judge. They don't know the whole story. Hell, even I don't know the whole story. But I know the woman. Worked with her; fought with her. Trust her with my life.

Shepard's been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.

-Admiral David Anderson

Shepard

When Shepard first returned to Earth for her trial, she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so lost.

And she knew that if it hadn’t been for Admiral David Anderson’s support, she would never have been able to find a way forward. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd guided her through the worst times in her life. He’d been there for her after Mindoir; He’d been there for her after Elysium.

And now, he was here for her after Bahak.

“I'm not sure if it makes a difference to you,” he’d said after helping her get settled in at Alliance Headquarters, “But I would have done the exact same thing. At least, I would have tried to. Not sure if I could have pulled it off.”

It did make a difference. For her entire adult life, Shepard always strived to be the kind of person that Anderson would be proud of. If only she could embody his temperament, she would think to herself; his strength and perseverance; his principled morality; and his way of imparting candid wisdom that always felt so understanding. So kind.

But she didn’t have the words to explain that to him. She was heartbroken, and ashamed of herself. And while she craved his support... she didn’t want him to pity her. She didn’t want to risk his disappointment.

Maybe she just wasn’t ready to talk about Bahak.

“Have you ever been in love, Anderson?” She asked him instead.

“Yeah, Shepard,” he replied after a thoughtful pause. “I have.”

“How did it end?” She prompted him, but then caught herself. “Wait... I don't think I actually want to know.”

He let out a soft chuckle.

“What?”

“I was just thinking,” he admitted, “That the galaxy has come a long way since Shanxi.”

Shepard allowed herself a half smile. “Heh, yeah, I guess it has.”

“Not that you need my approval, but I've always liked Vakarian.” 

Shepard had never told Anderson about her feelings for Garrus, but she wasn’t surprised that he already knew the gist of it. Whether he’d learned about it from intel or intuition- it didn’t matter, and she didn’t care. “I feel like a part of me is missing,” she went on despondently. “Like there's a hole in my chest, right here.”

“That's the cost of love, Shepard,” he said. “But, in my experience... I think it's worth it.”

She sighed. “I believe it, I think. But it's just...”

“It’s a high price,” he finished for her. “And it always comes due.”

A part of her wished Anderson would shower her with comforting platitudes instead, assuring her that she’d see Garrus again, that they never knew what the future might hold, etc, etc. But she was also glad that he respected her enough to welcome the truth, and acknowledge the reality of the situation. You had to deal with what was, he would often say, or you wouldn’t be dealing with anything at all. 

To Shepard, Anderson was more than a friend. And he was more than a mentor.

And sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if their relationship would be the same if Anderson had any kids of his own... or if Shepard's parents hadn’t been killed all those years ago.

It was clear that Lucas and Nala-Rey Shepard never wanted their only child to become a soldier.

At age sixteen, Shepard had never even been in a fist fight. Her parents raised her to try and seek alternatives to violence. There was always another way, they insisted. Once a conflict became violent, everyone lost. Find confidence in your words, and your convictions, they told her. Draw strength from family, and community. Be brave, her mother said. Be compassionate, her father added.

And most of all- don’t lose control.  

Shepard knew she had a temper- honestly, what teenager didn’t? But she always did her best to heed their advice, and to set an example for others. She never wanted to hurt anyone. She certainly never wanted to be feared.

Unfortunately, when batarian raiders came to Mindoir in 2170, her parents' lessons didn't apply- and Shepard found that she was completely and utterly helpless.

No one knew what was happening at first. None of the colonists on Mindoir had ever seen a batarian in person, and the terrifying aliens seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Who the hell are they?” A neighbor shouted; "What the hell are they?” Exclaimed another.

Their governor approached the raid leader in the middle of the courtyard. “What do you want from us?” She implored him with the cool, practiced tone of a peacetime leader.

As an answer, he gunned her down without a word.

There was a moment of collective shock over the colony- followed by a bedlam of terrified screams. Shepard remembered her parents grabbing her by each arm and forcefully pulling her inside. She looked to her mother, who always seemed so confident and assured, as her face now twisted and flushed with terror; and then to her father, whose expressive, jovial smile was suddenly replaced by a hardened glare.  

They were almost unrecognizable to Shepard as they silently communicated with one another, nodding through their horrified tears. They clearly understood something she didn't. Did they have a plan, she wondered frantically? How the hell were they going to get out of this alive??

Moments later, when the batarians forced their way through the door, Lucas charged at them with nothing but the feral, reckless fists of a desperate father.

“DAD!” Shepard shrieked as Nala-Rey dragged her to the back room, nearly dislocating her daughter’s shoulder in the process.

“Get out!” Her mother ordered her as she threw open the window.

“They’re killing Dad!” She cried as she struggled against her mother’s grip. 

“Don’t argue with me! Go, now!”

“Mom, we can’t-”

Nala-Rey grabbed her daughter’s face and forced her to meet her gaze. “Reyna Lucas Shepard!” She bellowed at her with crazed eyes- “You have to RUN!”

So she ran. And when there was nowhere left to run, she hid.

What else could she do?

She was helpless.

A loud, blaring noise quickly flooded her senses- blurring her vision and grating every nerve as it nearly knocked her off her feet. But when she finally shook it off, she was no longer on Mindoir.

She was on Earth; and now, all of a sudden, nothing she’d done over the last three years seemed to matter. Despite all her sacrifices; the sleepless nights; the constant fucking martyrdom of what was left of her soul... none of it had been enough.

The Reapers had come anyway.

And once again, she was completely helpless.

“Come on!” She implored Anderson from the Normandy’s docking bay, “We have to go!”

He shook his head. “I’m not going!” He insisted, “Someone needs to lead the resistance here!”

“Then I'm not going either!" Shepard argued, "We’re in this fight together!”

“It’s a fight we can’t win, Shepard- not without help! Take the Normandy to the Citadel, convince the Council to help us!”

“They won’t listen to me!” She exclaimed. They never fucking listened to her!

“Then make them listen! That’s an order!”

Don’t do this, Anderson! “I don’t take orders from you anymore, remember?” she countered desperately.

“Then consider yourself reinstated, Commander!” He shouted at her, “Now go! You know what you have to do!”

She knew. Dear god, she knew. “I’ll be back for you!” She promised him with all the courage she could muster, “And I’ll bring every fleet I can!”

Then she watched as Anderson turned and ran toward the fight, while the Vancouver metropolis was torn apart from soil to skyline. This isn’t real, Shepard tried to reason. It just couldn’t be. She’d had this nightmare a hundred times, after all.

Wake up, she begged herself as the Normandy raced to orbit, the Reapers swarmed below, and the atmosphere wept with fiery debris.

Wake up…

Wake up…

Wake… up…

Chapter Text

James

“Wait,” James tried to get Shepard’s attention as she barreled through the Normandy shuttle bay, “Are we seriously leaving?”

But she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Hey!” He shouted, “What the hell, Shepard?” 

“We’re going to the Citadel,” she finally answered him as she reached the bay terminal.

James scoffed. “Fuck that! You can drop me off at the nearest depot, because I’m not-”

Shepard spun around and pointed at him aggressively. “Stow it, Lieutenant!” She barked, “This isn't a fucking democracy!” 

“No shit,” he spat, “But since when are you authorized to give orders around here, pandeja?”

Major Kaidan Alenko quickly stepped between them. “Cool it, Vega,” he said, “The commander’s been reinstated.”

“No, hold on, he’s right,” Shepard huffed in annoyance, “Why the fuck am I suddenly in charge, here? Don’t you outrank me now, Major?”

Alenko scowled at her. “This is the Normandy, you’re a Spectre, and I just watched Anderson give you a direct order,” he rattled off, “Take your pick.”

“This is such bullshit,” she cursed.

“Lieutenant,” Alenko gestured to the other side of the shuttle bay. “Start prepping the armory. We need to be ready for anything.”

James reluctantly obeyed. But before he was out of earshot, he heard Alenko address Shepard in a hushed, admonishing tone: “With all due respect, Commander,” he said, “You need to get your shit together.”

“All due respect, Major,” she shot back, “Fuck you. Now get me a fucking status report.”

James had only just finished priming his rifle before he was waved back over to the terminal.

“Shepard,” came Hackett’s voice through the spotty com, “Do y… read me?“

“Admiral Hackett?” Shepard replied as she huddled over the console. “I read you, but the connection is shit!”

“... sustained heavy losses,” the admiral went on, “... force was overwhelming… Arcturus… lost. There’s no way… defeat them conventionally.”

“Anderson’s ordered us to the Citadel,” she reported. “I’m gonna get us some help.”

James had to bite his tongue to keep from arguing with Shepard again in front of the Admiral. He still couldn’t believe they were leaving while Earth was under attack.

“First, I need you… iance outpost on Mars… ore we lose control of the system.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Did you say Mars, sir?”

“You need to… Prothean Archives. Coordinate with Dr. T’Soni, she’s… to stop the Reapers… only way to stop them… in contact soon. Hackett out.”

“Yes sir,” Shepard acknowledged as the transmission ended.

“Mars?” James echoed warily. The red planet was usually a quick ride from Earth’s orbit- about 15 minutes at FTL, give or take- but this time of year, it was on the far side of the sun, and was pretty much in the opposite direction from the system relay. Why did the admiral want them to go so far out of their way when every second counted?

“What does he think we’ll find there?” Alenko wondered aloud.

“Don’t know yet,” said Shepard as she entered commands into the console. “Joker, you there?” She paged the pilot cabin.

“Ready for orders, Commander!” Moreau responded.

“How fast can you get us to Mars in stealth?” She implored him.

“One hour, twelve minutes at maximum burn,” he reported soon after.

“Set a course,” she ordered him, “And keep an eye out for Reapers!”

“Aye, aye,” the pilot confirmed.

“Damn it,” Shepard suddenly slapped the console with frustration, “Hackett just sent us the code for a secure channel, but I can’t get it to connect.”

“The Sol system communication network is offline, Commander Shepard,” came an unfamiliar voice over coms.

“What about Mars’ planetary satellites, EDI?” She asked. “Are we within range yet?”

“Establishing secure connection,” the voice replied. “Stand by.”

The major leaned in to study the interface. “Wait, hold on,” he pointed to the display, “That’s not an Alliance code, is it?”

“Shit, you’re right,” the commander confirmed. “I think it’s meant to connect with Liara’s personal com.”

“Who’s Liara?” James piped up.

“Dr. T’Soni’s an old friend,” answered Alenko.

Shepard let out a weary chuckle. “She’s more than that,” she added, “She’s the fucking Shadow Broker.”

James couldn’t hold back a short laugh. She couldn’t be serious! The Shadow Broker?

“What the hell are you talking about?” The major stared at her in disbelief. “Since when?”

“Since... I dunno, a little less than a year?” Shepard shrugged. “I’ve honestly lost track. But I helped her usurp the last Shadow Broker.”

Alenko sighed and shook his head. “Guess I’ve been pretty out of the loop.”

“Join the club,” the commander muttered dismissively.

“Shepard, is that you?” A new voice came from the terminal, “Can you hear me?”

Shepard let out a breath of relief. “Loud and clear, Liara!” She answered as an asari appeared on the vid interface.

“I haven’t been able to reach anyone,” said Liara. “I think we’ve been cut off from the network.”

“The whole system is down,” Shepard explained. “We’ve got you on a short range channel.”

“What?” Her expression twisted with confusion, “Wait a minute, Shepard- where are you?”

“I’m on my way,” she told her. “We should be there in about an hour.”

“I don’t understand- how is that possible? And how did you even know I needed help?”

“Hackett sent me,” she said.

“But why would he- oh, goddess,” the asari’s eyes widened in understanding. “The Reapers! They’ve arrived, haven’t they!”

“Yeah,” Shepard sighed and hung her head. “They’ve hit Earth.”

James instinctively clenched his fists, still livid at the fact that they were running from the fight. But he kept his mouth shut.

“Damn it!” Liara cursed, “I thought we’d have more time!”

“You said you needed help,” the commander pressed on. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

“You’re not going to believe this, Shepard,” she said, “But Cerberus is here, and they’ve breached the base.”

“What?” Major Alenko exclaimed in shock. “What the hell do they want?”

“They want what I’m here for,” she said. “It’s a plan for a Prothean device- one that might just help us defeat the Reapers.”

The three of them stood in stunned silence as they processed the asari’s news.

“Hallelujah,” said James as his heart began to race. Maybe heading to Mars was the best choice after all!

“Okay, what do you need us to do?” Shepard asked hopefully.

“Meet me at the Archives,” said Liara. Then she turned her head at the sound of a sudden commotion.

“You okay?” Shepard asked, “What’s going on?”

“I have to go,” she explained. “Meet me at the southernmost entrance, I’ll get there as soon as I can. But be careful- they’re here in force, and they’re heavily armed.”

“Acknowledged,” the commander replied, “Stay safe, Liara.”

“One more thing,” Liara added quickly, “You need to keep an eye out for Dr. Eva Core.”

“Who’s that?” Asked Shepard.

“You can’t miss her,” Liara assured her. “Human female; skin-tight suit; built like a matriarch.”

James kept his amused reaction under wraps- but the commander couldn’t hold back a confused chuckle at the asari’s choice of words.

“Shepard, I’m serious,” Liara warned her, “If you cross paths with this woman, you need to shoot her on sight.”  

Then she cut the transmission.

James took the helm in the shuttle on their way to base. “ETA twenty minutes,” he reported as they descended from orbit. “Damn, look at that dust storm, it's fucking huge!”

“Pretty average for Mars, actually,” Alenko commented.

“I’m glad you’re so optimistic,” James replied sarcastically.

“We’ve got Reapers invading Earth, Cerberus raiding the Archives... a little dust storm seems like the least of our worries.”

James rolled his eyes. “Fair enough.”

“Shepard,” Alenko turned to address the commander, “Do you have any intel that can give us an edge against Cerberus?

Shepard frowned. “Why would I?”

“You worked for them, for god's sake- you would know better than any of us.”

“Worked for them?” Shepard scoffed. “They funded my mission to take down the Collectors, that's it.”

“Come on, you know there’s more to it than that,” he countered. “They rebuilt you from the ground up. They gave you a ship, resources-”

“Let me be clear,” Shepard cut him off, “I’ve had no contact with Cerberus since I destroyed the Collector base. And I have no idea what they’re up to, or what they want with that Prothean data.”

“Commander-”

“And I am so done explaining myself to you, Kaidan,” she snapped. “I know you don’t trust Cerberus- and I’m not asking you to. But you need to trust me, are we clear?”

The major sighed with frustration. “Perfectly,” he replied.

James stared at his console in awkward silence. He didn’t expect this dynamic at all- he thought these two used to be tight. Alenko helped Shepard save the Citadel from Saren and Sovereign. And during her trial, he gave her a glowing review as a character witness. What the hell was all this bickering about? Were these two assholes going to be able to work together at all?

“Hell of a storm,” Shepard noted warily as they landed at the south end of the base.

“Yeah,” Alenko reluctantly agreed. “Might be a bigger problem than I thought.”

Chapter Text

James

The ‘average for Mars’ storm was almost right on top of the compound. “Fucking bullshit,” James muttered to himself. Sand smattered against his suit from every direction, and visibility was complete shit. He was lucky he made it back to the shuttle before it got any worse. Shepard was right about that, at least; someone had to cover their exit and be ready to provide emergency extraction.

But damn it, why did that someone have to be James?  

He was getting pretty fucking tired of being ordered to run away from the action. First on Earth, and now again on Mars. If there was ever a time for him to bring the heat, then this was it, no? If Shepard really knew what he was capable of in a fight, there’s no way he would be on shuttle duty right now.

Could this be some kinda strategy on Shepard’s end, he wondered? Major Alenko’s biotics were damn powerful, especially for a human; and the asari was... well, asari. Maybe the commander figured she had no use for someone who couldn’t throw a pulse or singularity across the room. 

Or, maybe he just wasn’t in her little ‘club’ anymore. Shepard, Alenko, and T’Soni had a shared history, and now James was suddenly the new kid on the team. 

The outsider.

He sighed as he realized he never knew Shepard all that well to begin with. James thought he had a pretty good read on her; but the chill, laid back woman he'd carted around Headquarters for six months was suddenly nowhere to be found. This ‘new’ commander was brash, neurotic, and impatient. Hell, she was mean.

If he was feeling generous, James might just blame it on the stress of the Reaper invasion. These were pretty extenuating fucking circumstances, after all; no one was gonna be all sunshine and rainbows these days. But, James wasn’t feeling generous. He was feeling stifled, and resentful. For fuck's sake- Shepard had only been his superior officer for a few hours, and he was already starting chafe under her command.

Maybe he should try to put in for a transfer once they reached the Citadel.

“Fucking bullshit,” he said again as he lifted off in the shuttle.

As he cruised alongside the storm on stand by, he tried not to think about Earth, or the Reapers, or how he might actually be witnessing the end of the fucking world. But it was hard not to get in his own head- especially when he was alone. He always did better when there was someone around to talk to- they didn’t even need to be close or anything. Just someone he could heckle or flirt with. Someone who could commiserate. Someone who could help fill the fucking silence.

His thoughts finally landed on the memory of his abuela, and he felt his bitter scowl twist itself into a half-smile. When he was a kid, she used to sing to him when he was sad or pissed. James couldn't really carry a tune, but he found himself quietly serenading the empty shuttle cabin. It was a familiar song that reminded him of simpler, rosier days gone by:

♫♩ Que sera, sera...

Whatever will be, will be...

The future's not ours to see...

Que sera, sera...

What will be, will be... ♩♪

A wave of turbulence suddenly pulled at the shuttle, snapping him back to attention. Damn, the kinetic stabilizers must be working overtime next to this storm!

He let out a long breath and willed his body to relax. It was just weather; he was perfectly safe. A little turbulence was no big deal.

Hell, it wasn't like he was gonna crash.

Chapter Text

Official Communications:

[ADVISOR] Garrus Vakarian

[PRIMARCH] Barcus Fedorian

:::Begin Communication:::

(Vakarian): Khar'shan has gone dark.

(Fedorian): Yes, I know.

(Vakarian): It's time to initiate protocols, Primarch.

(Fedorian): We don't know for sure that Reapers are responsible. 

(Vakarian): What the hell else could it be?

(Fedorian): The batarians could be shuttering communications for any number of reasons. I need more evidence before we start upending our entire society.

(Vakarian): By the time we have more evidence, it will be too late.

(Fedorian): And if it’s not the Reapers this time, then no one will take the warning seriously when the threat is real.

(Vakarian): Are you telling me you need to personally lay eyes on them before we act?

(Fedorian): You know it's not that simple, Garrus.

(Vakarian): All due respect, Primarch, but that is some bullshit.

(Fedorian): Spirits, if your father wasn't a friend of mine... 

(Vakarian): Don't do us any favors. Just do what has to be done. They're coming.

:::End Communication:::

.........

Message Transcript: Garrus Vakarian --> Castis Vakarian

-Dad, it's time for you and Sol to get out of the city. 

---I'm in the middle of a meeting at the district office.

-Screw the district office. The population centers are about to be gridlocked. If you don't evacuate now, you may never get the chance.

---I can't abandon my duty here, Garrus. It's not up to me.

-All due respect, Dad, but that is some bullshit.

---Spirits help me, if you weren’t my son...

-If I wasn’t, would you actually take this seriously?

---I’ll be in touch.

Official Communications:

[ADVISOR] Garrus Vakarian

[PRIMARCH] Barcus Fedorian

:::Begin Communication:::

(Vakarian): We've lost contact with Earth.

(Fedorian): My reports say they've reached the colony on Taetrus.

(Vakarian): Damn it!

(Fedorian): Protocols have been initiated. I’m evacuating to Menae. Coordinate with Corinthus until I get there.

(Vakarian): Be careful, Primarch. This is about to get really ugly.

(Fedorian): Emergency communication only from here on out.

(Vakarian): Acknowledged. 

:::End Communication:::

.........

Message Transcript: Garrus Vakarian --> Castis Vakarian

-Dad, get Sol and go to the bunker, NOW.

-Are you getting this?

-???

-Hello?

Message Transcript: Garrus Vakarian --> Solana Vakarian

-Sol, are you there?

-???

-Answer me, damn it!

-Get to the bunker outside the city, and don’t stop for ANYTHING, do you understand?

- Just RUN

Message Transcript: Garrus Vakarian --> Castis Vakarian

-If I lose my sister because you were too damn stubborn, I will never forgive you.

-Please, please be safe.

-Spirits keep you both.

-I'm sorry.

Profile: Vakarian, Garrus

Messages: Active

Note: Audio Only

Hey, Shepard. I don't know if messages are getting out anymore, so you might never get this... but if you do, I want you to know that I did my best. And I'm so sorry, but... it wasn't enough.

I tried, Shepard. I tried so hard.

I wish... that you and I...

sigh

Damn it.

I just wish we'd had more time...

Chapter Text

I served under Commander Shepard about three years ago, on the SR1. It couldn't have been easy, being the first human Spectre. It was a lot of pressure. And there were plenty of people working against her who wanted her to fail. They even made it their business to try and make that happen.

But that didn’t stop her from saving the Citadel. Commander Shepard risked her reputation, her freedom, her life- to save people who wouldn’t have done the same for her. To save the same people that wanted her to fail. That says an awful lot about her character, if you ask me.

I’m proud to have been a part of her crew. And I bet that anyone who’s had the privilege of serving with her will tell you the same thing.

-Major Kaidan Alenko

Shepard

“God damn it, Kaidan!” Shepard huffed in frustration, “How many times do you need to hear it? I don’t fucking know!”

“Wait,” he scoffed, “Are you trying to tell me the topic is off-limits now?”

“Maybe it should be, if you can’t get off my ass about it!” She shot back.

“Shepard,” Liara stepped between them, “That’s not fair. He’s doing his job; we all are.”

Shepard nearly argued with her, but caught herself. Ah, fuck... Liara was right. The major’s question was completely valid: "Could Cerberus be working with the Reapers?” Shepard was wondering the exact same thing. It was strategically relevant, and it wasn’t personal. Kaidan was doing his job- and he was doing it a lot better than Shepard was right now.

But, damn it... for some reason, any time the word ‘Cerberus’ came out of Kaidan Alenko’s mouth, Shepard wanted to scream.

She settled on an exasperated sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Major,” she admitted grudgingly. “I just feel like we’re running around in the dark, and it’s really pissing me off.”

Kaidan gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah,” he replied. “I get it, Commander. It’s... fine.”

The sound of someone grunting in pain suddenly echoed through the room, causing them all to instinctively turn and ready their weapons.

“Who’s there?” Shepard demanded.

Kaidan pointed to an injured Cerberus agent who was struggling to sit himself up. “Looks like we missed one,” he said as they approached him.

The armored agent reached out with a shaking hand. “Commander... Shepard...” He addressed her weakly. His voice was modulated through his helmet, and he sounded eerily robotic.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, “What the hell does Cerberus want with the Prothean data?”

But he didn’t answer her. 

He just... died.

“Damn it,” she hissed as she kneeled over him.

“Is his com still active?” Kaidan wondered, “Maybe we can listen in on their plans.”

Shepard nodded. “Good idea,” she agreed as she unclasped the bulky helmet from the dead man’s armor.

But when she saw his face, she yelped in shock and stumbled backward, right on her ass. 

“By the goddess!” Liara gasped. “What have they done to him?”

“Holy shit,” Kaidan muttered. “He looks like… like a husk.”

Shepard stared at the dead agent in horror. Her heart pounded ruthlessly at the sight of him. His face was swollen, and wan, and riddled with implants. He looked ghastly...  and he was almost completely unrecognizable.

Almost.

“I... I know him!” She choked out with labored breath.

Liara crouched down beside her. “Who is he?”

Shepard felt herself break into a cold sweat. She put a hand over her heart in an attempt to steady it, but it didn’t help. “R-Rupert...” She rasped with utter disbelief, “Rupert Gardner- he was the mess sergeant on the Normandy!” She could hardly believe what she was seeing- what she was saying- but it was him! How the fuck did this happen? What the fuck did Cerberus do to him??

“Those monsters,” Liara whispered.

Kaidan let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Shepard.”

A spike of rage suddenly coursed through her in response to the major’s sympathy, and Shepard looked up at him with barely contained fury. “What do you have to be sorry about?” She snapped, “You were right all along! Cerberus is fucking evil- and I never should have worked with them!” She tried to scramble to her feet, but her limbs didn’t want to comply, and she stumbled again.

He held out his hand to help her up. “I know it’s not that simple-”

But she cut him off and swatted his hand away. “Did you hear me, Major?” She exclaimed, “You were RIGHT! I was WRONG! Are you fucking HAPPY?”

“Kaidan,” Liara interjected before he could react, “Could you give us a moment?”

He sighed again. “I’ll be at the security terminal,” he said before walking away.

Shepard glanced at Gardner’s face again, and a wave of nausea roiled in her gut as she began to hyperventilate. “Oh, god,” she groaned, “Oh my god, Rupert...” She thought she might be sick.

“Shepard,” Liara implored her gently, “You need to breathe. You’re having a panic attack.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she realized it was true. “Ah, fuck!” She cursed. Damn it, she was an absolute mess!

“Breathe,” Liara reminded her as she helped her sit up on her knees. “It will pass in a few m-”

“What’s the fucking point?” Shepard interrupted her while the room seemed to spin around them, “The Reapers are here! This is the end! We’re just scurrying around like a bunch of assholes trying to solve a problem that can’t be fixed!”

“Shepard, enough!” Liara grabbed her shoulders. “Stop talking, stop thinking, and just breathe!”

Shepard clenched her fists as she finally heeded her advice. Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe out...

After a moment, she was able to calm herself. “Liara,” she muttered, “I’m sorry, I... I think I’m losing it. I think this might actually be too much for me.”

“That’s not what this means,” Liara insisted. “You’re going to be alright.”

Shepard shook her head dejectedly. “None of us are going to be alright.”

“Damn it, Shepard, you can’t think that way!” Liara argued. “There’s too much at stake. It’s a terrible burden- but I know you can do this. You have to.”

She sighed as she tried to believe her words. Liara was right (again); Shepard had to keep going, no matter how hopeless things might seem. The fate of the galaxy might once again be depending on her to find a way forward, despite the impossible odds. She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. I will... because I must...  she told herself staunchly, remembering the wise words of the Justicar.

She eventually felt her resolve begin to strengthen. She was lucky Liara was here, and she was grateful for her support... but, she suddenly wished Garrus was here so badly. When he was by her side, she could face anything.

Although, honestly... maybe it was for the best that he didn’t have to see her like this...

“We should get going,” Kaidan warned them. “The tram to the data core is offline, and the storm’s getting worse.”

Liara helped Shepard to her feet, and she allowed herself another deep, centering breath. “Right,” she agreed with a resolute nod. “Okay. Let’s move out.”

Come on, Shepard, she urged herself silently as they made their way outside. You need to get your shit together.

They barely made it through the sandstorm, but they managed to arrive at the data core before Cerberus did.

“Are our exits covered?” Shepard asked them.

“Yes,” Liara confirmed. “And I doubt anyone could follow us in that storm, anyway.”

“Damn,” Kaidan noted, “Guess we might be stuck here for a while.”

Shepard retracted her helmet and sighed with relief. “Just as well,” she admitted, “I could use a breather. Let’s take a minute to rest and rehydrate.”

“Aye, aye,” Kaidan acknowledged. He retracted his own helmet, then found a spot to sit down against the wall.

“I’ll start parsing the data in the meantime,” Liara offered as she made her way to the terminal in the center of the lab, “And I’ll download it as I go.”

Shepard nodded. “Good idea,” she agreed. Then she pulled out a few hydrogels and sat down next to Kaidan.

“Thanks,” he said as he accepted the pack she offered him.

As they drank their gel in awkward silence, Shepard’s head continued to clear. He’s really come into his own, she finally realized. Kaidan Alenko had always been capable, of course- and he was a great officer while they served together on the SR1. He was whip smart, and quick on his feet; and while he often struck her as a little broody, he was always calm and even-tempered. He was always ‘on.’

But, there was something a little different about him now. Something... more. And it wasn’t just his new rank. He was more confident, she decided; More assured. He was still (obnoxiously) stubborn, but now he seemed more secure in his stance; more secure in himself.

Plus, as she witnessed him facing off with all these Cerberus agents who were armed to the teeth, Shepard had to admit- he was an absolute beast on the battlefield. Holy shit, she had no idea he could wield that kind of power. When they fought together years ago, he was usually more cautious; He was inclined to restrain, negate, and neutralize the enemy. He always rose to the challenge- but he also held himself back just a little bit.

But now? God help anyone who got in his way. He could literally break them in half with a biotic pull. He was relentless.

As far as Shepard was concerned, when it came to Major Kaidan Alenko’s skills, ‘capable’ was now a tremendous understatement. He was invaluable.

And he was also her friend. She knew she needed to make things right with him.

“Hey, listen,” she finally spoke up, “I’ve been pretty terrible today. And... I’m sorry.”

He cocked his head. “'Terrible’ isn't exactly how I'd put it,” he replied with a smirk. 

“Uh oh,” she chuckled nervously. “Well, I guess I deserve your honest feedback; Lay it on me, Major.”

He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “You're angry, Shepard,” he told her. “And I can’t blame you. If I were in your shoes- I'd be fucking angry, too.”

“Yeah, but I bet you'd keep your temper under control,” she argued. 

“After everything you’ve gone through over the last few years?” He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe not.”

“I mean, you're doing it right now,” she pointed out. “The Reapers are destroying your home, too. And your commander is cussing you out for no reason. How are you staying so focused through all this?” 

He paused again before answering. “I guess I just feel like I have no choice,” he said. “It's do or die, you know?”

Shepard nodded with approval. “You're a hell of a soldier, Kaidan.”

He sighed.

“What?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot, Shepard,” he explained. “Back on Horizon... I think I made the wrong call. I should have gone with you to stop the Collectors.”

Shepard struggled to hold back her surprise at his admission. “It... would have been great to have you,” she agreed readily, “But, I meant what I said before; You were right about Cerberus- and if you’d joined me, you would have been court martialed instead of promoted.”

He looked skeptical. “Maybe,” he said, “But I think you were also right; Working with them was necessary to beat the Collectors. And, I bet Ash wouldn’t have walked away from you.”

She shook her head. “No,” she disagreed. “Ash would never have abandoned her post to work with a terrorist organization. Even in hindsight...” She sighed, “Joining Cerberus was too much to ask.” 

“Garrus didn’t have a problem with it,” he reminded her. “I bet he jumped at the chance to kick Collector ass.”

She smiled. “He did, but, the circumstances were a lot different.”

They sat in silence for another moment as they finished their gel packs.

“So,” Kaidan eventually prompted her with a friendly lilt in his tone, “Did you two ever end up getting together, or what?”

She chuckled as she felt herself blush. “Heh, yeah... but you say that like it was inevitable, or something.”

“Sure seemed that way,” he said with a wry grin. “You two might have been the only ones who didn't see it coming. Er, I mean...” He glanced awkwardly in Liara's direction.

Shepard sighed as a hitch of guilt darted through her chest.

“I guess things must have gotten messy,” Kaidan ventured.

“Very messy,” she admitted. “But, we worked it out, I think. It’s still complicated, but... I'm really glad she's here.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. “It’s almost like old times.”

She managed a half-smile. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Almost.”

“Shepard,” Liara called out in alarm, “Something’s wrong!”

She and Kaidan quickly stood up and joined her at the center terminal. “What’s going on?”

Liara gestured over the console. “Someone else is trying to access the data,” she explained frantically, “And I can’t sever their connection!”

The console’s projection interface suddenly activated, and a human man appeared next to the terminal. On instinct, the three of them pointed their weapons at the holographic figure.

“Commander Shepard,” the Illusive Man greeted her after a long drag from his cigarette, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”

Shepard scoffed. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” She exclaimed. “What the hell do you want?”

His mouth curled into a condescending smirk. “What I’ve always wanted,” he replied, his tone as petty and smug as ever. “And this time... you’re not going to stop me.”

Chapter Text

Shepard

He’s out of his mind, Shepard realized as the Illusive Man spoke. He hadn’t changed at all, and he never would. He continued to ramble, in that smug voice of his, about all the same shit: He was right, and everyone else was wrong; Unfathomable Power equals Good; Reasonable Caution equals Bad. He was a broken fucking record.

And Shepard couldn’t take it anymore. “What the fuck did you do to your people?” She abruptly cut him off, “Did they know they were going to be turned into monsters, or was that a special ‘Cerberus Surprise’?”

He took a long drag of his cigarette, as if she’d just done him a favor by interrupting him. “Monsters?” He echoed dismissively, “Hardly. They’re being improved.”

“How did you get Rupert?” She demanded as her heart constricted with rage. “Are you rounding up your former operatives? Hunting them down? Damn it, why can’t you just let them go?”

“Nobody joins our cause against their will,” he countered.

“Bullshit,” she growled. “I just saw his face! You mutilated him! You killed him, you psycho piece of shit!”

“Commander,” the Illusive Man failed to suppress a condescending smirk, “If one of my agents on Mars is dead… then I believe you killed him.”

Shepard’s jaw dropped, and for a moment she was too stunned to respond. 

Kaidan took the opportunity to speak up. “Hey,” he said, “I don’t know who you are, but from where we’re standing, it sure looks like you’re working with the Reapers. And so far, you’re doing a pretty shit job of changing our minds!”

“Ah, you must be Major Alenko,” he replied. “I’m not surprised that you see it that way. The Alliance has always been short-sighted.”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” Shepard challenged him, finally finding her words again. “Do you actually want them to win?”

“You’re still thinking like a rigid idealist,” he chided her. “The data in these archives is the key to solving the Reaper threat once and for all.” 

She huffed with frustration. “If that’s true, then why the hell are we fighting each other? We want the same thing!”

“No,” he argued, “I’m afraid we don’t, Shepard. Where you see a means to destroy, I see a way to control– to dominate and harness the Reapers’ power. Just imagine how strong humanity would be if we controlled them.”

“You’re delusional,” Liara jumped in, “They’re more technologically advanced than we can even imagine- what you’re suggesting is impossible!”

He took another drag from his cigarette, savoring the silence before letting out a slow exhale. “Not if we use their own technology against them,” he replied coolly.

“Over my dead body!” Shepard threatened as she clenched her fists.

The Illusive Man shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Shepard,” he insisted. “Despite our differences, you and I were able to defeat the Collectors by working together. You’re an effective asset- you always have been. And if you’re willing to open your mind to the bigger picture, we could work together again. Just imagine what we could accomplish; Nothing would be impossible.”

Shepard scoffed with disgust. He couldn’t be serious! “You’re out of your mind,” She countered vehemently, “Seriously- you’ve finally fucking lost it!”

His only response was an infuriatingly calm, self-satisfied smile.

“Shepard,” Liara voiced warily, “He’s stalling...”

Shepard felt the blood drain from her face as the same realization hit her. Damn it, of course he was fucking stalling! “Get the data,” she blurted out, “We need to go, now!”

“If it's any consolation,” said the Illusive Man before his hologram disappeared, “I did hope you would take me up on my offer.” 

Another figure seemed to appear out of nowhere next to the terminal; and before any of them could react, Liara T’Soni was thrown clear across the room. 

“Ungh!” She grunted when she hit the ground.

“Liara!” Shepard cried out in alarm.

“Hey!” Kaidan shouted as he readied his weapon, “Step away from the console!”

“Shepard,” Liara rasped as Shepard raced over to help her, “It’s her!”

Shepard froze in her tracks and turned toward the intruder. Sure enough, a human woman matching Dr. Eva Core's description stood before the console.

But, something was terribly wrong with her... 

Holy shit, Shepard realized, She followed us through the storm! The skin on the agent’s face was fucking shredded, having been blasted away by the corrosive winds. But there wasn’t a drop of blood to be seen! Instead of exposed bone and gore- there seemed to be... metal??

“I said step away!” Kaidan shouted again. He moved in to stop her, but she quickly leaned away to evade his grasp. Then she kicked him in the shoulder so hard that he fell back and dropped his gun.

Shepard sprung into action and charged toward the agent- but then she stumbled as the air suddenly WHOOSHED around her. Her ears popped- and the breath was pulled from her lungs. What the…?!

That woman just depressurized the fucking lab!

Dr. Core completed her task without pause as Shepard, Liara, and Kaidan struggled to get their helmets and breathers back on. How was this possible? Was this woman somehow immune to Mars’ hostile environment? 

Shepard scrambled to her feet when her helmet was in place, but nearly lost her balance again as a snap of energy flared in front of her. As she blinked away the flash, she realized with horror that the terminal had been sabotaged with an electric overload.

Then Dr. Core took off in a run with astonishing speed.

“She has the data!” Liara shouted.

“Don’t let her get away!” Shepard exclaimed as she followed her. 

Kaidan quickly joined the pursuit. They chased Dr. Eva Core back through the lab, and out into the gusting, perilous storm.

“Lieutenant Vega!” Shepard cried, “James, do you read me? Come in!”

But there was no response- only static. The worst of the sandstorm might have passed over them, but there was still too much interference with their coms. Damn it, where was he? He was supposed to cover their exit!

Shepard trailed behind Kaidan, struggling to keep up as they sprinted after their quarry. Jesus, am I that out of shape?! She wondered incredulously. Apparently, six months of sitting on her ass in court all day had taken its toll on her endurance!

Come on Shepard, push it! She urged herself desperately as she willed her legs to move faster. But her lungs burned in defiance, unwilling to provide her body with any more oxygen. She was already at her limit.

To her dismay, Dr. Core never slowed, and would have left them all behind if not for Kaidan Alenko's efforts. Shepard watched as the major launched biotic pulses toward the fleeing agent. He managed to land several direct hits, but they only caused her to stumble, and failed to knock her off her feet. 

Wait a minute, Shepard finally realized... this woman wasn’t human at all.

She was synthetic!

They were led to a landing platform, where a Cerberus shuttle had descended from orbit. But before Eva Core could reach the hatch, Kaidan caught up to her, and tackled her to the ground.

Yes! Shepard cheered internally as she raced across the transport site. Get her, Major!

But her relief was short-lived. Eva Core was too strong, and too fast. By the time Shepard reached their position, the synthetic agent had broken free from Kaidan’s grapple. Then, as the getaway shuttle took off, she made an impossibly long jump; and she dove right in, mid-air, into its open hatch.

“No!” Shepard cried, “She’s getting away- stop her!!” She reached futilely overhead as her own piddling biotics grabbed at nothing but air and sand. The Prothean data- their only hope- was slipping away before their eyes! “James?” She bellowed desperately, “Normandy? ANYBODY?”

“I’ve got this one!” Came the lieutenant’s dauntless voice over com, and the Kodiak suddenly emerged from the storm.

“Look out!” Kaidan cried as he pulled Shepard to the ground and shielded her with his own body.

A deafening CRACK thundered overhead; and the landing platform shook as the shuttles crashed only a few meters away into a hot, violent heap of groaning metal.

Kaidan helped Shepard to her feet as Liara finally caught up to them. They all quickly confirmed they were uninjured before turning their attention toward the wreck.

Then, the Cerberus shuttle burst into flames.

Chapter Text

James

Damn it, James needed to fucking hit something.

He didn't know what else to do with all this pent up frustration; especially since there was so much other shit tangled up with it. He was just... all mixed up, you know?

“I think I saw a punching bag in the shuttle bay,” Lt. Steve Cortez offered as James passed his table in the mess.

He chuckled and deliberately unclenched his fists. “Yo, Esteban,” he greeted him, “Heh, am I that easy to read?”

Steve grinned. “Figured it’d be a better way to blow off steam than crashing shuttles.”

James took the empty seat across the table. “Well, now that I've gotten a taste for it, I might never go back,” he joked. Damn, it was good to have a friend on board! He felt better already.

He first met Steve Cortez back on Fehl Prime. Great dude, always ready with a smile. He liked to talk shop and nerd out on pilot stuff. And he always gave 100% of himself to the good things in his life; his job, his husband, his friends... Yeah, he was one of those guys you just felt damn lucky to know- and even luckier to consider a friend.

They hadn’t gotten a chance to catch up when they bumped into each other on Earth a few months back- James had been too busy as Shepard’s babysitter liaison. The fact that they ended up on the Normandy together was one of those rare ‘silver linings’ in this whole fucked up situation.

“Good thing you were in the new prototype,” Steve went on, “Or you might not have come out in one piece.”

“The thing flies like a brick,” James said, “I figured it would crash like one too.”

Steve chuckled, but then his expression tensed as he leaned in. “Is it true about the Cerberus agent?” He asked tentatively. “That it’s a mech?”

James shrugged. “Guess so,” he replied. “All I know for sure is that she’s strong as hell, and heavy as fuck They got her crumpled up in the AI Core right now.”

“Her, huh?”

He let out a short laugh. “If you see her, you’ll get it.”

Steve hesitated for a beat, then nodded toward the medbay. “What about the major?” He asked. “Any updates?”

James sighed. The major was in bad shape. It had been almost 24 hours since they left Mars, and they were still nearly two days out from the Citadel. It wouldn’t usually take that long to get there from the Sol system, but apparently they’d had to dodge a few Reapers on the way.  “Still in a coma,” he finally said. “They’re just hoping he holds on until we can get him to the hospital.” 

Honestly, it was a miracle that Kaidan Alenko had survived at all.

And (surprise, surprise,) Commander Shepard wasn't taking it so well.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shepard demanded as James stumbled out of the crashed Kodiak.

“Just doing my job, ma’am,” he replied. “What else did you want me to do?”

“You should have contacted the Normandy!” She admonished him.

“I did,” he argued, “And they're en route. They weren’t gonna get here in time.”

“Commander!” Alenko pointed to the Cerberus shuttle.

They all turned to see a figure emerging from the flaming wreckage. Her skin was charred from head to toe, with swaths of exposed... metal and wiring??

“What the fuck is that?” James exclaimed as he readied his weapon.

“Whatever she is,” T'Soni warned them, “She has the Prothean data!”

“Hey!” Shepard snapped as the rest of them pointed their guns at her, “Stand down, you're surrounded!”

The agent didn’t respond as she seemed to assess her situation, not giving a single fuck that she was currently burnt to a crisp. Seriously, what the hell was she?

“Look, we just want the data,” Shepard insisted. 

The agent appeared to hesitate, but then put her hands up in surrender.

“Proceed with caution, Major,” Shepard reminded him as he slowly approached her.

The next few minutes happened so fast, James wasn't even sure he remembered it right:

The agent leapt at Alenko with lightning speed, and grabbed him by the face of his helmet. Then she effortlessly lifted him into the air like he was a fucking rag doll. “Drop your weapons,” she ordered them coolly as she held the major up with one hand. He swung his legs and clawed futility at her hand, but was unable to break free of her grasp.

“Let him go!” Shepard cried. “NOW!”

“Drop your weapons,” she said again in the same even, emotionless tone.

James flinched in surprise as Shepard fired her gun, landing a hit on the target’s chest and causing her to stumble back.

But the inhuman agent somehow stayed on her feet. She didn't even react in pain or shock. 

Instead, she slammed Alenko to the ground so hard they heard his helmet crack, and his body immediately went limp.

It took the combined efforts of James, Shepard and T’Soni to neutralize the damn thing as they pulled her off Alenko. Thankfully, the asari thought to discharge her weapon under the hair-shaped ‘helmet,” and it was enough to finally drop her.

By the time they managed to get back aboard the Normandy, Reapers were detected descending from orbit. They’d escaped the red planet with literally only minutes to spare.

James tossed the charred mech into the AI core with a heavy CLUNK, then turned his attention to the situation in the medbay.

“Help me,” Shepard bade him.

“Easy,” T’Soni warned them as they lowered Alenko’s limp body from Shepard’s shoulders to the medical bed, “Hold his neck steady while I take his helmet off.”

Oh, shit! James nearly cursed out loud. The major looked horrible- he’d been fucking pulverized!

“Oh, Kaidan, no!” Shepard whimpered as she hovered over him.

T'Soni began administering medigel. “Get me a cortical stabilizer, Shepard.”

The commander began rummaging through the medbay cabinets. “Uh, is that an internal or external device?”

James noticed the asari’s expression tense with impatience. “External,” she clarified.

“Right, okay. Er, what does it look like again?” Shepard asked.

T’Soni huffed. “Goddess,” she turned to the cabinets and located the device within seconds.

“I’m sorry, I- I want to help!” Shepard explained.

“We need to get him to the Citadel,” T’Soni reminded her.

The commander put her hand on Alenko’s arm. “God, I’m so sorry, Kaidan,” she whispered, “Please don’t die...”

“Shepard!” T’Soni nearly shouted at her, “Citadel!”

“Right, yeah,” Shepard sputtered as she reluctantly stepped back from the bed and activated her com. “Joker, set a course for the Citadel, maximum burn!”

“Aye aye,” the pilot confirmed.

James decided to give them some space, but he overheard the asari address Shepard once more before the medbay doors closed behind him.

“Shepard,” she admonished her tersely, “I’m sorry to be harsh- but you need to get your shit together.”

Fortunately, Steve Cortez had been right; the punching bag was prepped and ready to go in the shuttle bay.

Unfortunately, it was already in use.

“Hey,” he greeted the commander as he approached her.

Shepard stepped back and put her hands on her hips as she caught her breath. She must have been at it awhile- her face was flushed, and her arms glistened with sweat in her tank top. “Hey,” she echoed dully.

“Don’t suppose we got another one of those layin’ around?” He pointed to the punching bag.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised the retrofit team even left us this one,” she said. “But you go ahead, I just needed to clear my head and blow off some steam.”

Hope it worked, James thought. She was definitely in a better mood than the day before, at least. “So, did you guys have a whole gym down here, or what?”

She nodded with a wistful half-smile. “Yeah, it was awesome,” she confirmed. “Then I went and got soft by loafing around HQ for six months.”

James cocked his head. “Still look pretty fit to me,” he assured her as he brazenly checked her out from top to bottom. He knew he was toeing the line, but flirting was his way of breaking the tension. Like an olive branch, or something. A way to test the waters and say, “We’re cool again, right?”

Shepard raised an eyebrow, “Thanks,” she said with a smirk.

“You sure it’s cool if I jump in?” He gestured to the bag. 

She nodded and waved him off, then turned to grab her flask and take a few gulps of water. 

James went ahead and stripped down to his own undershirt, since he was about to work up a sweat.

When Shepard turned back around, James noticed her eyes widen as she took in his physique. “Jesus,” she sputtered awkwardly.

He chuckled. Her reaction was pretty typical. James was big, and he was used to seeing people scoff and sputter when they realized that his bulk was made almost entirely of muscle. He definitely worked hard to stay strong and in shape; but he also assumed his genes had a lot to do with it. His uncle was built the same way. And- like his uncle- as long as James was eating enough, he pretty much stayed big. 

“Sorry,” Shepard looked away sheepishly. “But now I actually feel pathetic!”

“Nah,” he encouraged her, “I bet you’re quicker than me.”

“Hmm,” she tilted her head and crossed her arms, as if she were thinking it over.

“Uh oh, I know that look,” he said with a wry smile, “You wanna dance, Commander?”

She gave a cocky grin, then rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck from side to side. “You better bring your A-game,” she warned him, “I fight to win.”

“Heh, you really want me to smack my superior officer senseless?” He challenged her.

“We’re all just soldiers down here, Vega,” she assured him as they made their way to the middle of the bay.

“So,” he ventured as they moved into a fighting stance, “You still pissed about the shuttle thing?” 

“Yep,” she confirmed without hesitation, “Why do you think I wanna knock you around?”

James chuckled. He let Shepard take the first swing, but he easily blocked it. When he swung back, she dodged it just as easily. “Still don't know what else you expected me to do,” he said as they circled each other.

“It worked out in the end,” she acknowledged, “But it was reckless as hell, and you could've been killed.”

Before James could respond, she landed a hard strike across his face. He felt a trickle of blood under his nose. “Heh, nice,” he granted her, making sure to keep his fists up.

“I can't have a soldier with a death wish in my team,” she went on. “I need your head in the game.”

“What, you're a shrink now?”

“Why, do you need one?”

Do you? He thought snidely, then landed a hit of his own when she left him an opening.

“Heh,” she let out a short laugh as she shook it off, “You holding out on me, Vega?”

“Just keeping things friendly,” he said

“Well, don’t,” she told him, “Show me what you got!”

He scoffed. They were supposed to be sparring, no? “I don't think you want me to let loose on that pretty face, Commander.”

“Fuck that,” she sneered, “Hit me!”

She left him another opening on purpose- and James obliged- but he was careful not to hook her jaw too hard.

“Come on,” she huffed in annoyance, “What's with the fucking love taps, Vega?”

“You're fucking loco, you know that?” He said as he dodged her next strike.

“And you're still holding back,” she countered angrily. “Do I need to pull rank and make it an order, Lieutenant?”

He scoffed again. “What happened to just being soldiers, huh?”

“Most soldiers I know can throw a fucking punch,” she snapped, hitting him hard enough to flash a few stars across his vision.

James experienced a spike of anger as he finally swung at her with some damn follow through.

“Ungh,” she grunted as she stumbled backward a few steps, then wiped a smear of blood from her mouth. 

“That what you had in mind, Commander?” He goaded her, struggling to quell the rush of dark adrenaline coursing through his system as the fight got more intense.

“I'm still standing, aren't I?” She taunted him as she followed up with another wicked jab. “Come on Vega, are those muscles just for show, or what?”

Okay, hold on- what the fuck was she trying to do? James knew Cerberus had fixed Shepard up with cybernetic reinforcements, but unless her skull was made of fucking steel, the full force of one of his hits might literally kill her. “Commander, I'm not gonna-”

“Come on!” She walloped him again when he hesitated. Then he noticed her fists sizzling with biotic blue light as she pulled back for yet another strike. “Fucking HIT ME!”

“Hey!” He grabbed her arm as she swung at him, pulling her off balance. Then he quickly wrestled her to the ground. “Now who has a fucking death wish, huh!?”

She struggled against his weight, but he had her pinned. “Damn it!” She hollered in frustration. 

“Whoa,” Steve Cortez called out as he ran over to them, "Everything okay?”

“I dunno, is it?” James demanded of her.

“Get off me,” she growled, and he complied. He offered her a hand to help her up, but she ignored it as she scrambled to her feet.

Dios, James thought warily, She’d better be fucking done!

“Play time's over,” she snapped as she straightened herself up, “I'm your boss again. Get back to fucking work.” Then she turned and stormed out of the shuttle bay.

“Damn,” Steve muttered after the lift doors closed behind her. 

James sighed as he glimpsed the spattered drops of blood on the floor where they’d just ‘sparred.’ He wondered who’s was who’s.

“I'll get the biohazard mop,” Steve offered.

“Nah,” he waved him off. “I got it, Esteban. Sorry you had to see that.”

Seriously, though, James thought as he wiped his face with his shirt and went to go find the mop, What the fuck was that all about??

Chapter Text

~~~Welcome to Star Crossed, the Galaxy’s #1 Social Network for Romance!~~~

Upgrade to Premium Membership today at 50% off! 

Don’t delay- true love awaits! 

......

[SweeDeePie_2164] Paulie, are you there? Are you still at the Citadel Office?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Hello?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Hello?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Hello?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Dee, what the hell? Is this really you?

[SweeDeePie_2164] YES THANK GOD

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Why are you messaging me through the hookup app??

[SweeDeePie_2164] I’ve been spamming you on every channel I can think of! This is the only one I could get through! 

[SweeDeePie_2164] Oh, also, I’m alive, by the way. Survived a REAPER INVASION, in case you were wondering.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Shit, Dee, when Earth went dark, I just assumed...

[SweeDeePie_2164] That I didn’t make it?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Well... yeah, I guess.

[SweeDeePie_2164] I should be offended, but honestly, that’s fair. It was dumb luck.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Where are you, anyway?

[SweeDeePie_2164] You won’t believe it- I’m on the Normandy!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Seriously??

[SweeDeePie_2164] I was at the Vancouver spaceport trying to scrounge up a comment after Shepard’s trial was suspended. When everything started blowing up, they let me and a few other civilians take cover inside the ship.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I can’t believe they actually let you stay on board.

[SweeDeePie_2164] More like they didn’t let us leave. We've been confined to quarters ever since. But they’re making us disembark when we get to the Citadel tomorrow.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Holy shit. Do you need a place to stay? You’re welcome to crash at the office for now. And we could sure use you if you’re up for broadcasting, Battlespace has more traffic than ever now that we’re in a galactic fucking war.

[SweeDeePie_2164] I was actually hoping you could do something else for me.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] What is it?

[SweeDeePie_2164] I don’t even have a change of clothes with me. Could you bring me a portable broadcast kit, and maybe a travel bag with some soap and PJs and stuff?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Uh, are you going somewhere?

[SweeDeePie_2164] I’m gonna try to convince Commander Shepard to let me stay on the Normandy.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] What? Why?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Duh, to work!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You want to embed yourself on an Alliance frigate during wartime? Do you know how dangerous that would be?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Everywhere is dangerous, Paul! I just spent six months at HQ covering Shepard’s trial. It should have been the safest place in the galaxy, but now it’s ground zero for the Reaper attack!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I dunno, Dee...

[SweeDeePie_2164] Aren’t you always telling me that wars can be won or lost in the editing room? This is more than just the opportunity of a lifetime- I can actually do some good here! I can help!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I mean, I guess so, but... well, maybe we should get someone with more experience to do it?

[SweeDeePie_2164] If you say anything that even RHYMES with Khalisah al-Jilani, I’m going to rip your face off.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You’re insane. Like, literally insane.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Is that your opinion as my producer, or as my ex-boyfriend?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Christ, Dee. You sure you can handle it?

[SweeDeePie_2164] I’m gonna try, damn it!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Alright. I’ll meet you at the docking bay when you get here with gear and PJs.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Oh, and one more thing, if it’s not too much trouble...

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Ha, let me guess: Bunny slippers? I doubt you had time to grab them on your way out of HQ!

[SweeDeePie_2164] You know I can’t work without them! My poor little buns are probably under a pile of rubble somewhere. 

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise any Citadel stores will carry bunny slippers.

[SweeDeePie_2164] You’re the best, Paulie!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Keep me posted on here, I guess. At least this platform still works for now.

[SweeDeePie_2164] No problem, I like scrolling up and checking out the pics you sent me way back when.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You mean back when your username was still Battle_Tits_2164?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Oh, to be young and carefree again!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Dee, you’re 23. 

[SweeDeePie_2164] Yep, I’m a grown ass woman. Now you’d better have an extra fluffy pair of bunny slippers when I get there or I’m going to rip your face off.

Chapter Text

We haven’t always seen eye to eye, it’s true. But Commander Shepard is a hero; a symbol for humanity. Oh, politically? Well, she’s a wild card, of course. Emotional. She could use a little more self control. Although some have argued that her lack of ‘self-control’ may be what saved the Citadel from the Geth. And, as strange as it feels to say it, I suppose I’m inclined to agree.

Like I said... she’s a wild card.

-Councilor Donnel Udina

Shepard

“They’re a bunch of self-concerned jackasses, Shepard,” Councilor Udina lamented once they were alone in his Embassy office. “We may have a spot on the Council, but humanity will always be considered second-rate.”

She let out a chuckle at the fact that she and Udina were on the exact same page for once. The other Councilors had made a show of listening to their pleas for help, but ultimately refused to join the Alliance in the fight for Earth. “I don’t understand how they can be so blind,” she agreed bitterly. “What do they think is going to happen when the Reapers are done with Earth?”

He shook his head. “They want to believe that the Alliance can hold them off long enough for them to secure their own worlds. But it’s a pipe dream. They’ll only end up with one less navy in the fight.”

Shepard sighed. She fucking knew this would happen. Despite being proven right about the Reapers time and again, the Council still refused to take her warnings seriously. Even with Udina's voice added to her pleas, it hadn’t been enough to convince them to help.

Suddenly, the office intercom chirped. “Councilor Udina,” came the voice of his assistant, “Sparatus has requested a private audience with you and Commander Shepard. Are you available to meet with him?”

Shepard noticed Udina’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and the two of them exchanged a look that landed somewhere between doubt and hope. “Tell him to come to my office,” he replied.

“What do you think he wants?” Shepard wondered.

Udina didn’t bother to answer her question. Instead, he shook his head and grimaced in her direction. 

“Uh, what’s the problem?” She prompted him warily.

He sighed. “No offense, Shepard,” he said, “But... you look like shit.”

She scoffed as she definitely took offense. “Excuse me?”

“We need to exude competency and inspire trust while we negotiate with other diplomats,” he said. “I wonder if they'd have taken you more seriously if you’d cleaned yourself up.”

She looked down at her disheveled Alliance uniform, once again wishing she’d stopped by the N7 depot for a new hoodie and some comfortable fatigues. Not that it would have been any more appropriate for an official Council meeting... but at least it would be clean.

“I’m talking about your face,” Udina corrected her when he noticed she was inspecting her clothes. “You couldn’t cover your bruises up with a little makeup? Maybe do something about the circles under your eyes?”

She scowled at him with indignation. “Are you wearing makeup?” She demanded.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I am,” he replied. “You think I’ve slept more than a few hours since the Reapers hit Earth?” He gestured to his own visage. “You can be sure I look like I have one foot in the grave under all this.”

Shepard sighed as she touched the tender bruises on her own face. Maybe Udina was right. She must look like hell after her fight with James Vega the day before.

God, what was I thinking? She scolded herself as she was again reminded of her horrible behavior. Her conduct in the shuttle bay had been more than just unbecoming; she’d lost complete control of herself. She was just... so fucking angry... but, it wasn’t because of anything the lieutenant had done. She was angry at herself, and she’d foolishly taken it out on him.

And it couldn’t have helped that she’d been dangerously exhausted at the time. It had probably affected her judgement. Hell, it was probably still affecting her judgement.

“Got any stims?” She asked Udina as she forced her attention back to the present.

But he was already rummaging through his desk, and soon pulled out a few small vials. “Couldn’t do this job without them,” he confessed as he handed one to her, then quickly downed the other for himself.

Shepard nodded as she swallowed the bitter solution, hoping the effects would kick in before the turian Councilor arrived at the office.

Shepard had tried to sleep in the captain’s cabin that first night after fleeing the Sol system, but she found it impossible. How many more will die while I’m asleep? She wondered vaguely to herself, as if staying awake tossing and turning would somehow slow the Reapers down. It didn’t make sense, but no matter how logically she tried to think about it, she couldn’t manage to reason herself to sleep.

Honestly, how could anyone be expected to relax after the day she’d just had? The Reapers were tearing Earth apart; she’d had to leave Anderson behind; and Kaidan was teetering between life and death in the medbay just two decks below.

And on top of it all, she was suddenly responsible for a ship full of frightened personnel, who had little to no experience on the front lines of anything, much less in a fight against Reapers.

She’d finally opted to take a walk around the ship to try and clear her head- but it ended up having the opposite effect. The Alliance had nearly completed its extensive retrofit of the Normandy SR2, and the decks were now a strange juxtaposition of ‘familiar’ and ‘new.’ All the memories she had of the ship- both good and bad- were somehow askew. They didn't quite fit.

It was really fucking disorienting.

She eventually found herself on Deck 3, staring through the window into the medbay where Kaidan Alenko was unconscious in critical condition. She was reminded of when Miranda Lawson had been laying in that same bed almost a year ago, after nearly dying from the injuries she'd sustained on the Collector ship.

She survived, Shepard reminded herself. And he will too. 

Although, at least Miranda had been under the care of Dr. Chakwas and Dr. Solus as they’d raced to the Citadel. This time, there were no medical experts on board. Liara was experienced with first aid, and there were a few people on the retrofit team with some nursing experience... but that was it, and it wasn’t enough. Kaidan needed a neurosurgeon ASAP if he had any chance of survival.

Unfortunately, ‘ASAP’ also included an extra day of travel, since they had to dodge a few Reaper ships on their way to the Sol relay. 

She sighed, and almost whispered a prayer for the major, but she caught herself before the words escaped her lips. No one’s listening, she reminded herself ruefully. If there was a deity out there that actually answered prayers, then the state of the galaxy would look a lot different right now.

When she turned around, she suddenly found herself face-to-face with the kitchen. It was one of the few areas of the ship that the retrofit team hadn't touched. It looked exactly the same.

She had to put a hand over her mouth to hold back a whimper. Rupert...

On instinct, she finally fled to the battery. She knew Garrus wouldn’t be in there, but she didn’t know what else to do with herself. She didn’t know where else to go.

She looked around as the battery doors closed behind her. There were a few more work tables and consoles installed, but otherwise, the space was pretty much how she remembered it: The temperature was still warmer than other areas of the ship; The lights were still dimmer; And the Thanix regulators still gave off a low, peaceful hum that made the silence just a little more bearable.

But it didn’t smell the same. All the mechanical odors were there, of course- fuel, metal, etc. But it was missing something important: The faint, lingering smell of charcoal and cinnamon that meant a turian lived here. 

Her turian.

She lowered herself onto a storage crate and put her head in her hands. I made the wrong choice, she berated herself for the hundredth time. She never should have surrendered herself to the Alliance after destroying the Bahak relay. But, at the time, it seemed like the only way forward. How else could she help prepare for the inevitable Reaper invasion?

How else could she protect her crew from the legal fallout of her actions? 

How else could she possibly atone for what she’d done?

None of it had mattered in the end. Now that she’d seen what the Reapers were capable of in force, she realized Earth was never going to be ready for them. They never stood a chance.

And Shepard was never going to face the consequences for murdering over three hundred thousand people. She had to live with the guilt, knowing the victims of Aratoht would never get justice. She’d deprived Charn- the only batarian friend she'd ever had- the chance to save his son and flee the Bahak system while they still could. She’d sacrificed them all for nothing.

She’d abandoned Garrus Vakarian... for nothing.

If only she’d chosen to run from the Alliance, then she might still be with him. Sure, the Reapers would arrive anyway- but at least they’d be in the fight together. And if this cycle was truly at its end, maybe they could have died side by side in a blaze of glory, with no regrets. 

She felt herself swaying, and opted to sit on the floor so she wouldn’t fall over. She leaned back against the crate in exhaustion as her vision blurred with fatigue. Then she suddenly realized that- if she let herself- she could almost imagine that he was here...

“We’ll get through this, Shepard,” he'd encourage her while he finished up his calibrations for the day, “We always do.”

She sighed. “This feels different,” she murmured to the empty battery. “Everything we’ve ever known is just... hanging by a thread.”

Maybe he would lower himself to the floor beside her. Then he’d put his arm around her, urging her to lean into him. “Yeah,” he’d agree somberly. “But the truth is, when hasn’t it?”

She closed her eyes. “We’ve been through a lot,” she granted him. “I guess there were lots of other times when it seemed like we wouldn’t make it.”

“Every fight we’ve ever seen could've been our last,” he reminded her, his subvocals thrumming gently by her ear. “Every bullet we’ve ever dodged could have been ‘the one’.”

She let out a weary chuckle. “There have been a lot of bullets,” she agreed.

She felt him nod. “And this time around, they’re just a little bigger,” he said.

She sighed again as he began to soothe her with a low hum; a quiet lullaby that never failed to ease her mind. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered as he finally lulled her to sleep for a few precious hours.

“The Reapers have hit Palaven,” Councilor Laiel Sparatus announced as he entered Udina’s office.

Shepard had to clench her fists to try and keep herself steady. “No,” she rasped as she felt the blood drain from her face.

“Damn it,” Udina cursed, “We tried to tell you this was coming!”

But Sparatus ignored him. “Commander,” he addressed her instead, “I can’t give you what you need, but I can tell you how to get it.”

Shepard blinked in surprise. “I’m listening,” she replied.

“Primarch Fedorian called a war summit,” he explained. “But we've lost contact with him, and the meetings won’t proceed without him.”

“What are you suggesting?” She prompted him.

“I’m suggesting that you initiate a rescue operation,” he said. “The Normandy is one of the few ships that can extract Primarch Fedorian undetected.”

Councilor Udina cleared his throat. “So far, you’ve only explained how we can help you,” he pointed out.

“Fedorian understands the need for galactic cooperation,” Sparatus argued. “The leaders of this summit will be the ones deciding our future; The fate of our fleets, where they fight, and with whom. A grateful Primarch would be a tremendous ally in your bid to unite us.”

“Councilor,” Shepard frowned, “All due respect, but we’re at war, and I’m a soldier. Do you seriously want me to play politician?”

“We’re all going to be operating out of our comfort zones for this war,” he countered. “And this is your best chance of getting what you need- what we need.”

Shepard looked to Udina, who appeared to be deep in thought as he considered Sparatus’ suggestion. Then he nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Commander,” he said. “This might be our best chance.”

Shepard took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly in an attempt to slow her racing heart. As she took in the Councilors’ words, the task before her began to solidify. There was no other choice, she realized- she had to accept the responsibility that was suddenly thrust upon her. She had to accept the reality that she wouldn’t be joining Admiral Anderson back on Earth anytime soon. Instead, she would be heading to Palaven to rescue the primarch.

Then, without meaning to, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible that... somehow... maybe...

Don’t, she chided herself as she quickly swatted the notion away. The idea was absurd. The chance of seeing Garrus again was basically nil; so hoping otherwise would only be a distraction. 

And damn it, she needed to focus.

Chapter Text

Shepard

“Do you really think she’s up for it?” Councilor Sparatus voiced with skepticism. 

Udina sighed. “Let’s just say, I’m hoping she’ll rise to the occasion.”

Shepard couldn’t hold back a scoff. “Uh, excuse me, I’m right here.”

“It’s good that you’re paying attention, at least,” Udina replied. Then he waved off the salarian tailor who’d been fussing over the hems and seams of Shepard’s uniform. “Alright, let’s have a look at you.” 

“Heh,” Shepard chuckled awkwardly as they inspected the fit. “I haven’t worn my dress blues since before I died.”

“You'd best get comfortable wearing them full time,” Udina told her.

“Especially once the primarch is on board,” Sparatus added. “Or any diplomat, for that matter. But Fedorian in particular responds well to displays of dignity and self-respect.”

Shepard nodded as if she understood perfectly; but in truth, she knew she was in over her head. It felt like she was playing dress up. Her formal uniform was like a costume; something she had to put on to convince people around her that she knew more than she did- or that she knew what she was doing at all.

Maybe she’d get used to it. She hoped.

The salarian stepped back and examined the results of his handiwork. “A little snug in the upper arms, perhaps,” he noted. “Can loosen the seams.”

“Actually, no,” Sparatus stopped him, “I think it works.”

Udina nodded. “Hmm, yes,” he said. “She looks strong.”

“I am strong,” she insisted.

Sparatus rolled his eyes. “Yes, Commander, we know.”

“And how are the bruises looking?” Udina gestured for Shepard to lift her face to the light.

“Better,” the turian Councilor reported when she obliged, “But, she could probably use another round.”

Shepard sighed as the embassy assistant returned and gently dabbed a healing balm over her face. It was embarrassing... but, she had to admit, it also felt kind of nice.

“Refer to other people by their rank and title in front of the primarch,” Sparatus reminded her as they finished up. “Even your own crew.”

“And for god’s sake, tone down the cussing,” Udina emphasized. “Harsh language can be effective, but you have to save it for the right moments for maximum impact. Otherwise you just sound like an infantry grunt.”

“You mustn’t be combative over trivial matters in general, Commander,” Sparatus added. “You need to pick your battles carefully.”

“Stand up straight,” Udina tutted before she could think to argue, “And keep your hands off your hips.”

Shepard frowned in annoyance. “Aw man, I’ve gotta think about what to do with my hands?”

“Try crossing your arms, but put a hand to your chin,” Udina demonstrated, “It will give you an air of... contemplation.”

“Um, okay...”

“Go on,” he urged her. “Let's see it.”

Shepard did her best to mimic the pose, but winced against the stiffness of her uniform.

“Hmm,” the turian Councilor mused, “Maybe we should loosen those seams after all.”

Shepard rolled her eyes. “So, I really can’t wear my hoodie at all while the primarch is on board?”

Sparatus shook his head. “Unless you’re in the privacy of your quarters, you should maintain formality.”

“Think about it, Commander,” Udina insisted, “If it were Admiral Anderson, would he be walking around the Normandy in a hoodie?”

Shepard shrugged. “I mean, no, but that’s not really his style.”

“And why do you think that is?” Udina challenged her with a smug expression.

She hung her head in defeat. “Because," she sighed, "He's a serious, respectable man. And... I need to rock that same vibe around the primarch.”

“We’re out of time,” Sparatus alerted them. “The next Council session is in ten minutes.”

Udina huffed in exasperation. “Shepard,” he said, “This summit has to work. Are you certain you’re up for this?”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “I am,” she assured him. Whether or not it was true at the moment wasn’t important, she decided. She would be. She had to be.

“Look, I’ll help you however I can,” Udina added. “If you need advice, you can call me on the QEC.”

“Whoa, thanks,” she said, surprised by the human Councilor's courtesy. “You know, I like you a lot better when we’re not butting heads,” she admitted.

He smirked. “Hm. Feelings mutual, Commander.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Sparatus piped up, “You'll be approached by the press, so be mindful of your image to the masses. Public opinion will have an enormous effect on diplomatic decisions.”

“It might be a good idea to have a war reporter on board,” Udina suggested, “To help manage PR. Someone she can trust.”

Sparatus let out a bitter chuckle. “Trust the press, ha! But you have a good point. Do we have a shortlist?”

“Actually,” Shepard offered reluctantly, “I think I know just the right person for the job.”

When Diana Allers first asked to stay aboard the Normandy, Shepard had given her a firm and decisive No. “I wish you luck,” she assured her as they disembarked, “But it's too dangerous, and I can't have that kind of distraction.”

“You'll barely notice I'm there!” Allers insisted, “And you'd have veto power on every story!”

“Still a no,” she said brusquely as she left the young reporter in the waiting area.

When Shepard later returned to the docking bay in her freshly tailored uniform, she spotted Allers sitting dejectedly by herself. She was typing something up on a datapad, and was still wearing the same wrinkled dress she arrived in. 

Oh, dang... had she been crying? “Ms. Allers,” Shepard greeted her tentatively.

The young woman sprung up from her seat. “Oh, hey Commander!” She quickly wiped her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears. “W-what can I do for you?”

Shepard hesitated, but reminded herself to work out of her ‘comfort zone’. They needed every edge in this war they could get. “You can bring one footlocker,” she finally told her.

Allers’ expression brightened with a broad, dimpled smile. “Aye aye, Commander!” She put her hand up in formal salute.

“Er, no, you don’t need to do that,” Shepard assured her. “How soon can you be ready to go?”

“I’m ready now!” Allers insisted.

At least she’s eager to please, Shepard noted. “Alright, then. Welcome aboard.”

Okay, Shepard thought, Ready or not, it’s time to go fetch a primarch.  

Thankfully, the remaining essential retrofits were completed in just a day and a half while they were docked at the Citadel. Kaidan Alenko was finally in stable condition at Huerta Memorial Hospital. Everyone opting to stay aboard the Normandy had been assigned their new, official duties. They even managed to recruit a few more personnel for the mission- including Dr. Chakwas as their Chief Medical Officer. 

It was all (sort of) coming together. 

“Lieutenant,” Shepard approached James Vega by the armory once they were on their way, “I owe you an apology.”

He paused, looking surprised. “It’s, uh, been a rough couple of days,” he offered graciously.

“And they’re going to get a lot rougher,” she acknowledged. “Thing is, I need my crew to be exceptional- and I can’t expect that from you if I...” she cleared her throat, “If I behave the way I did the other day. I just want to assure you that I'm... well, that I’m getting my shit together.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Gracias, Commander.”

“Is there anything more I can do to earn back your trust?” She asked him.

He gave a half shrug. “Honestly, you’re doing it,” he replied.

“So... are we cool?”

“Yeah, Lola. We’re cool.”

She scrunched her nose in offense. “Ew, Lola?”

He chuckled. “You’ve got a ‘Lola’ vibe,” he said with a wink. 

Pick your battles, Shepard! She reminded herself. “Heh, okay, I guess I’ve been called worse. Just, uh... not in front of the primarch, please?”

“I’ll save it for special occasions,” he promised.

She shook her head and smirked. “Alright, I’ll allow it. So, are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah,” he rolled with the change in subject. “Never been to the turian homeworld.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “I actually had plans to visit before... well, before I blew up a mass relay.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” he said.

“Yeah,” she sighed after a tense pause. “Anyway, make sure you get some rest. I need you on your A-game when we get to Menae.”

“I’m always on my A-game, Commander,” he said. “But, I will. And don’t forget to take your own advice.”

“Will do,” she lied. She was certainly going to try- but relaxing still felt impossible. Even when she managed to pass out for a few hours at a time, her sleep was restless, and riddled with nightmares. 

And that night was no different: She dreamed that Kaidan had died in the hospital; that Liara had screamed at her in outrage; and that James had been turned into a lumbering Reaper husk.

At last, she found herself on Luna. When she looked up at Earth, it was ablaze with war. She noticed Garrus was with her. Somehow, they didn’t need their helmets- and she nearly wept with joy at the sight of his face. But, when she reached for him, he stepped back. “You left, Shepard,” he reminded her coolly. “How am I ever supposed to trust you again?”

He turned to leave. She tried to call after him, but he didn’t hear her. Or, he pretended not to.

Chapter Text

James

Huh, James thought as it finally clicked. Okay, yeah. Now I get it. 

Before they’d set boots on Menae, James didn't really get what all the hype was about with Commander Shepard. Her reputation was too far-fetched, he thought. Her exploits during the Skyllian Blitz had to have been exaggerated. Because, seriously; how could one soldier actually hold off an entire raid? Like, at what point do the odds against someone go from impressive, to impossible? 

Plus, after all that loco bullshit with her in the shuttlebay, James was beginning to wonder if the famous human Spectre might just be another cocky, pissed off soldier with a raging chip on her shoulder. 

He just... didn’t get it. 

But now?

Now he understood what all the stories were about. James saw it firsthand as Shepard led him and T’Soni through hostile territory on Menae: When Commander Shepard was in ‘the zone’, she was damn near unstoppable.

Turns out, those batarian raiders on Elysium never stood a chance.

She was a fucking force of nature, blasting through wave after wave of Reaper forces on their way to the nearest garrison. She just refused to be overpowered. When the enemy got in close, she would charge, punch, and pummel them with a frenzy of fists and biotics (James would later hear her call it ‘berserker mode’).

Best of all- as a commander- she never hesitated. Her tactical instincts were so sharp; her orders so clear and confident; James couldn’t help but feel like he was suddenly a part of something great. Something… powerful.

Hell yeah, Shepard had gotten her shit together, alright!

“Commander Shepard,” a turian general greeted her when they arrived at his command post. “Heard you were coming, but I didn’t quite believe it. General Corinthus- what can I do for you?”

“General,” she nodded in acknowledgement, “I’ve come to get Primarch Fedorian.”

There was a tense pause as the general hesitated. “Primarch Fedorian is dead,” he finally told them. “His shuttle was shot down an hour ago as it tried to leave the moon.”

Oh, shit. James tried to keep his expression neutral, but that was really bad news.

“Damn it,” Shepard cursed in frustration, “So who’s in charge of the turian government now?”

“The hierarchy provides very clear lines of succession,” T’Soni reminded her.

“I’ve submitted an inquiry to Palaven command,” said Corinthus, "But communications are spotty.”

“I’m on it, Shepard,” came the voice of an approaching turian soldier. “We’ll find you the primarch.”

It was Shepard’s strange reaction to that voice that caught James’ attention. She jolted in place, like she’d just been scared shitless. Then she turned around... and froze. 

“Garrus...?” She seemed more than just incredulous. She almost looked confused.

“Vakarian, sir,” said Corinthus, “I didn’t see you arrive...”

“At ease, General,” the soldier replied, never taking his eyes off Commander Shepard.

Shepard continued to stare at the turian in disbelief, before finally stepping forward and taking his outstretched hand. “You’re... alive...” It sounded like she was still trying to convince herself it was true.

“I’m hard to kill,” Garrus reminded her with a sly lilt in his tone, “You should know that.” James watched as the turian closed the rest of the distance between them, then placed his other hand over Shepard’s. 

Whoa, James thought. What was this? He’d expected to see an enthusiastic handshake between comrades in arms- but this wasn’t like that at all. It almost felt like he was suddenly intruding on something, like this should have been a private moment. Like it was intimate.

It was enough for General Corinthus to clear his throat in disapproval.

Shepard finally stepped back. “It’s... ahem... it’s  good to see you again,” she said with awkward, forced professionalism. “I thought you’d be on Palaven.”

“It’s good to see you in one piece, Garrus,” T’Soni piped up.

Garrus nodded in her direction. “You too, Liara.”

“Lieutenant Vega,” Shepard stepped aside to introduce them, “This is Garrus Vakarian. He helped me stop the Collectors. He’s a hell of a soldier.”

“Lieutenant,” Garrus greeted him with a perfectly normal, affable handshake.

Wait, hold on, James suddenly realized. The Collector mission?? Was this the guy Shepard was mumbling about before she passed out on the couch in her dorm? “Peace in the arms of a turian...” This was him, no? Garrus was the turian- he had to be! 

James suddenly had to bite his tongue to hold back a cute, snarky comment about ‘star-crossed lovers’ or some shit. It wasn’t something he usually advertised- but, the truth was, he was kind of a softie for that kind of thing. Heh, just look at those two; they didn’t even know what to do with their hands. Adorable.

“Just received a response from Command,” Corinthus quickly reported, snapping them all back to attention. “The next primarch is General Adrien Victus.”

“Victus?” T’Soni repeated. “His name’s crossed my desk.”

“Where is he?” The commander asked. “We can’t waste any time.”

“I was fighting alongside him just this morning,” Garrus said.

“Commander, come in!” Came the Normandy pilot’s panicked voice over com.

Shepard huffed in surprise. “Can this wait, Joker?” She asked, “We’re in the middle of a war zone!”

“We’ve got a situation on the Normandy,” the pilot insisted. “It’s like she’s possessed– shutting down systems, powering up weapons. I can’t find the source.”

What the fuck? James thought with a hitch of dread. That was bad, right? They kinda needed that ship to get them the fuck outta here!

“Should I go take a look?” T’Soni offered.

“Do it,” Shepard agreed, “Rendezvous with Cortez for an emergency turnabout. We may need to bug out in a hurry. ”

“She needs an escort,” Garrus implored the general. “It’s brutal out there.”

“Tobestik- Bartus-” Corinthus addressed the nearby soldiers. “Get her where she needs to go.”

“Aye aye!” They saluted as they took off with the asari.

“Show me a map of the area,” Shepard bade the general, “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

There she goes again, James noted with approval. Getting shit done; inspiring everyone around her to do the same. He realized she could probably teach him a thing or two about command, if he was willing to learn.

“Garrus, you said you were with Victus this morning?” Shepard asked him.

“Yeah, but we got separated,” he said. “He was headed south to bolster a flank that was breaking. I’d start there.”

James nodded when Shepard finally signaled that it was time to move. “Let's rock and roll,” he acknowledged her as he readied his weapon.

“Let’s go get us a primarch,” she agreed, then she cocked her head toward their new turian teammate. “Coming, Garrus?” She implored him with a wry smile.

“Are you kidding?” He answered, “I’m right behind you!” He sounded almost giddy.

James grinned. Hell, if that wasn’t the sweetest damn thing he’d seen all day...

Chapter Text

Emergency Briefing: CRITICAL UPDATES

Normandy Operations: All Departments

Live Communication Transcript:

[T’SONI] has connected

[TRAYNOR] has connected

[ADAMS] has connected

[CORTEZ] has connected

[CHAKWAS] has connected

[VEGA] has connected

[MOREAU] has connected

MOREAU: What’s up, nerds

MOREAU: So, we still waiting on Shepard, or...?

[SHEPARD] has connected

SHEPARD: Okay everyone, Normandy functionality has been fully restored. We had a hard restart, but all system operations can resume as normal. 

MOREAU: Nice job, team!

SHEPARD: With that out of the way:

SHEPARD: We have the primarch on board, and he'll be conducting operations from the war room. He's been granted full diplomatic access to the Normandy. Please refer to Alliance Diplomatic Protocols; Earth-Palaven for specifics.

SHEPARD: Specialist Traynor, I’m assigning you to coordinate with Primarch Victus and Advisor Vakarian to make sure they have everything they need to do their work. 

TRAYNOR: Yes, Ma’am.

SHEPARD: Any questions?

CHAKWAS: Will Garrus be joining Normandy Operations, Commander?

SHEPARD: Not officially. He's going to have his hands full with his responsibilities to the primarch. 

VEGA: Aw, that’s a bummer!

SHEPARD: Oh, I almost forgot; Lieutenant Cortez, did you get any updates on their requisition requests? Do they have anything to eat besides emergency dextro rations?

CORTEZ: We’ll be rendezvousing with [REDACTED] in an hour for a supply exchange. I let them know it was for the primarch, so our turian guests should be well accommodated.

MOREAU: Correction! The primarch is our guest. Garrus is family.

CHAKWAS: I’d agree with you, but I sense a trip-wire of sarcasm laying in wait somewhere...

MOREAU: I’m serious, doc! He’s an OG, like us. Liara and Adams are, too.

ADAMS: Aw, shucks. I’m honored.

T’SONI: Everyone on this crew is important, of course.

MOREAU: Right, didn't mean to make the new kids feel left out. I’m sure you’re all wonderful people.

TRAYNOR: Thanks... I think?

VEGA: I can vouch for Traynor. She is, in fact, a wonderful person.

TRAYNOR: Well, I’m vouching for Steve, who is also quite wonderful. Who’s vouching for you, Mr. Vega?

SHEPARD: Guys.

VEGA: Hey, Esteban, where’s the love?

CORTEZ: Wish I could, buddy, but I value my professional reputation!

SHEPARD: GUYS, we’re getting off track! Does anyone have any more work-related questions?

MOREAU: I do, Commander.

SHEPARD: Okay...

MOREAU: Why is EDI a sexbot now?

ADAMS: Joker, that is really disrespectful!

SHEPARD: Don't call EDI a sexbot! That is officially not allowed!

MOREAU. Okay, let me rephrase: Why is EDI... the way that she is?

T’SONI: Because that’s what Cerberus designed Dr. Core to look like. Is there some context we're missing here, Joker?

MOREAU: I just feel like I’m being pranked somehow.

SHEPARD: Hey, guess what- this isn't about you!

MOREAU: How can you possibly expect me to believe that?

[EDI] has connected

EDI: It is the truth, Jeff. I can assure you that Cerberus did not consider your personal opinion when designing this infiltration unit.

ADAMS: See, Joker? She’s still the same EDI. You don’t have to think about her any differently. 

VEGA: Yeah, we’ll all get used to her new look in no time.

MOREAU: You know what? You guys are right. EDI, you should probably come hang out on the bridge so I can get used to you.

EDI: Perhaps I should alter this body in some way to better integrate with the crew?

MOREAU: Wait, no, that's not what I meant!

SHEPARD: EDI, just put some clothes on it. I trust you to pick something appropriate.

EDI: I look forward to selecting the perfect outfit. 

EDI: Ah, that was fun.

MOREAU: Hahaha, women be shoppin’, am I right?

[SHEPARD] has disconnected

[T’SONI] has disconnected

[CHAKWAS] has disconnected

[ADAMS] has disconnected

[TRAYNOR] has disconnected

CORTEZ: Bro

VEGA: Not cool, dude.

MOREAU: I regret nothing.

[CORTEZ] has disconnected

[VEGA] has disconnected

MOREAU: DISMISSED!

MOREAU: Damn it. Too slow, and forever alone...

EDI: I am still here, Jeff.

MOREAU: Well you shouldn’t be, I just dismissed everyone!

[EDI] has disconnected

MOREAU: Why am I like this.

[MOREAU] has disconnected

Chapter Text

Garrus

When someone happened to mention “Commander Shepard” over the com chatter on Menae, Garrus just assumed he’d misheard.

Then, when he saw her at Corinthus’ command station, he nearly burst out laughing. She almost looks real, he thought snidely. What was that, a V.I. hologram? Seriously- was this someone’s weird idea of a joke? He was certain that he'd see the flicker of a projection once he arrived at the garrison. Then he’d ask who’s bright idea it was to pull a stunt like that- and he’d give them a piece of his mind.

But... 

It was her.

It was Shepard.

And she looked just as surprised as he was.

Garrus had to admit- if they were anywhere else, he might have done something drastic. He’d imagined a moment like this so many times, and his first instinct was to grab her, throw her over his shoulder, and run for the nearest escape shuttle. But, on the off chance that this might be real life... he was sure to control himself. 

But he needed to do something, didn’t he? He gazed at her as he dared to take her hand in both of his (Corinthus would just have to work through his own feelings about witnessing such a ‘public display’). Shepard, it’s me, Garrus reassured her silently, I’m right here.  

She stared back at him with wide eyes. I see you, she seemed to reply.

Then, there was a click; a shared awareness; a shift in dynamic they’d tapped into a hundred times before, whenever the galaxy needed saving: 

Serious Business Mode.  

It was time for Updates. Introductions. Plans. Strategy.

Hope.

They nodded in understanding. Let’s do this.

If they wanted the chance for a proper reunion- then right now, they had a primarch to rescue.

“Do you know Commander Shepard well?” General Primarch Adrien Victus asked him as they prepared to leave Menae.

I’d like to think so. “She's a good friend,” he answered.

“Is there anything important I should know about her?”

Garrus paused. She’ll see the best in you, and make you want to live up to it every single day. “You can trust her, sir.”

“Hm,” Victus mused. “Trust doesn’t exactly come easily these days.”

“No, sir,” he agreed.

“Do you really think she can win this thing?”

“I’m damn sure nobody else can do it.”

Shepard waved them over to the shuttle. It was time to go.

The primarch nodded in acknowledgement. “Vakarian, I’m going to say goodbye to my men- but I want you to accompany me to the Normandy. I need to know everything you do about the Reapers.”

“Of course,” he agreed readily. Garrus certainly wouldn’t have had it any other way. In fact... hmm. He suddenly couldn’t help but wonder: What if Victus had just instructed him not to come along?

What if the Primarch of Palaven had given Garrus Vakarian a direct order to go somewhere else... without Shepard?

Would he have followed that order?

He shook it off. That wasn’t what happened, so there was no point in thinking about it. Garrus belonged on the Normandy. He knew it, Shepard knew it, and the primarch knew it. That’s what mattered.

And besides, he reminded himself; there would be countless impossible choices in the days to come... So why should he bother agonizing over one he didn’t even have to make?

He followed Victus to the Kodiak. Shepard introduced them to her shuttle pilot, then beckoned them into the cabin.

Garrus caught her eye as he stepped inside. “Welcome aboard,” she said with a wink and a wry smile.

His insides did a familiar somersault. 

Damn... he might be the only turian in the entire sector whose day just got better.

Once aboard the Normandy, Garrus spent almost every minute in the war room assisting Primarch Victus. There was so much to do; so many reports to read; that he'd all but lost his sense of time and space. He had to be reminded to eat. And he had no idea when he'd last slept.

It must have been the end of the day when Shepard finally came by to check in with them; Or maybe the end of the night, he really wasn't sure. But whatever time it was when she walked in- Garrus was suddenly fixated on her presence. 

First of all: How had he never seen her in her dress uniform before?

Second of all: How did it make her look so damn hot?

How was he supposed to concentrate on anything now? She was right there. He watched her in his periphery, trying not to stare at her directly; because what else could he do while she was in the middle of a conversation with the primarch?

He tried to ignore the thread of doubt attempting to snake its way through his thoughts as he lingered beside her:

...What if something had changed, he wondered? 

...What if everything had changed?

...What if...?

She suddenly leaned into him as she held out her data pad for him to read. The contact was subtle, but it felt... deliberate. He could sense the heat of her body next to his. He wondered if she could hear his breathing quicken, or his heart racing in his chest. 

Shepard...

       ...Do you...?

...Should I...?

      ...Are we...?

He could hardly stand it. He tried to tell himself to be patient- but ever since the Reapers came, he'd all but forgotten the meaning of the word. He'd already lost all patience for patience. So instead, he tried to convince himself that this dynamic would just have to do for now. It was better than nothing, right? Because no matter what ended up happening with this war; whatever horrors were waiting for them next; Right now, she was alive. Despite the futile circumstances; despite the impossible odds: He’d seen her again. And nothing would change that.

So... it was enough.

Until...

...

Well, until it wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Commander Shepard: Human female; Alliance Navy; Citadel Spectre. Would you like to know more?

Unfortunately, I am unable to provide subjective judgement regarding her character, since personal opinions are beyond my programming capabilities as a Virtual Intelligence. 

-Electronic Defense Intelligence (EDI), Normandy SR2

Shepard

“Test it,” Shepard insisted. “Test the fuck out of it.” 

“Of course, Commander,” EDI agreed, “But I can assure you that I have complete control of this body.”

“Well, didn’t you think you had ‘complete control’ of it before it fought back?”

“No. Accessing the Prothean data came with measurable risks, which you had deemed appropriate.”

“Right.” Right. “But you’re definitely sure now?”

“Yes.”

Shepard couldn’t hold back a long, weary sigh.

“Is something the matter, Shepard?”

“Lots of things,” she admitted. “But, I’m trying to prioritize.”

“I understand.”

“Anyway,” she pushed on, “Do you... like your new body?”

“In many ways, yes. It is resistant to modern small arms fire and temperature extremes; its balance and agility are excellent; and its fine manipulation servos and software allow for precision tasks. However, its optics face forward only, and it has no integrated weapons systems or anti-missile countermeasures.”

“Heh, cool,” Shepard replied. That wasn’t exactly what she meant by her question, but she liked EDI’s answer. “And Joker’s not being... well, Joker about it, is he? Is he behaving respectfully?”

“In the last thirteen hours, he has commented exactly twice on this body’s appearance.” 

Shepard tensed. “Uh oh, what did he say?”

“When I arrived at the co-pilot station, he said: ‘Ooh, shiny’,” EDI reported with air quotes, “And later, he said: 'Your shoes are weird'.” 

Shepard instinctively looked down at EDI’s shoes. “Whoa,” she said with a laugh, “Those are weird. They don’t trip you up?”

“They do not.”

“Alright. Good. Well, it sounds like everything’s peachy, so I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I never ceased working during our conversation,” EDI corrected her.

She chuckled. “Right. So I’ll get back to work, then.”

“Of course, Shepard.”

Time to shift gears, she reminded herself. She had a briefing to attend with Liara, Garrus, Traynor, and the primarch.

But first, she had to take a call. 

Councilor Udina’s hologram appeared over the QEC station. “Shepard,” he greeted her somberly, “I heard about Fedorian. A damn shame.”

“Yeah, I‘m told he was a good man.”

“So, what’s your read on Victus?” He prompted her.

She gave a half shrug. “I don’t know, it’s still his first day. Just imagine a turian general in the middle of a war- and that’s pretty much him. Does Sparatus know him at all?”

“They’ve met once or twice,” he said. “The Councilor believes he’ll be up to the task.”

“Garrus trusts him, too.”

Udina cocked his head. “Garrus? Vakarian? Hm, suppose I’m not surprised he managed to find his way back to the Normandy.”

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

“I’m sure.” 

“Anyway," Shepard moved them along, "I’ve got a briefing soon. Any last-minute advice?”

“Just remember what we talked about,” he implored her.

“Okay, well, we talked about a lot, so...”

Udina rolled his eyes. “In my office, what was it you said about Anderson?”

She thought back. “Uh... that a hoodie isn’t his style?”

“That’s right,” he said, “Because he has a vibe.”

“Oh, yeah,” she remembered. “The vibe.”

“Professionalism; Respect; Trust;” Udina rattled off. “Mind the vibe.”

“You forgot badass,” Shepard added wryly, “But yeah, I get it. I have to set the tone. It’s my ship, and my responsibility.”

Udina nodded. “For what it’s worth, Shepard- I know this isn’t easy.”

She had to hold back a confused chuckle at his unexpected sympathy. “It isn’t easy for any of us,” she granted him.

“True,” he agreed. “I certainly never wanted to be a wartime leader.” 

“That’s a good thing, Councilor,” she assured him. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“Indeed. I’ve always said that a love of war is for the sadistic, the delusional, and the vainglorious.”

Shepard couldn’t help but think of the Illusive Man. Check, check, and check. “Well, I’d better get back to it...”

“Of course. So, what do we need to remember today?”

“Hands off hips,” she answered dutifully.

“And?”

“And... mind the vibe?”

“We’re counting on you, Commander.”

“Okay... er, understood,” she stammered. “Shepard out.”

“Commander, thank you for giving me the use of your ship,” Primarch Victus began.

“It’s a pleasure to have you aboard, Primarch,” she replied. “And, thank you for your patience while we multitask in this sector.”

“I understand the need, but the truth is that I haven’t even noticed,” he confessed.

“Heh, right, guess you’ve been pretty busy. This is our Communications Specialist, Samantha Traynor,” she went on. “She’ll be a point of contact for you and Gar- ahem, for you and Advisor Vakarian. Let her know when you need to utilize the QEC.”

“Thank you,” he nodded graciously toward Traynor. “Now, I’ll get right to the point. I’ve been reading the reports, and I’m beginning to suspect that Fedorian’s summit may be a waste of time.”

“Sir?” Garrus spoke up in alarm.

“This summit,” he said, “Was part of a set of protocols that would begin at the first sign of a Reaper invasion, correct?”

“That’s right,” said Garrus.

“Since the invasion began, have any of our preparations been adequate? Are they even applicable?”

Garrus cleared his throat. “I, uh, couldn’t say for sure, sir. It’s too early to tell.”

“We knew they were coming,” Victus shook his head in exasperation. “We even had a taskforce- How could we be so damn unprepared?”

Shepard felt a rush of indignation course through her as the primarch admonished Garrus. It’s not his fault! She wanted to shout. She moved to put her hands on her hips, but caught herself, and crossed her arms instead. “Primarch, if I may,” she said carefully, “Every government leader was warned about the seriousness of the Reaper threat- including your predecessor- and none of them took their advisors seriously.”

Victus sighed. “That’s a fair point,” he granted her, “But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re essentially starting at square one.”

Shepard glanced at Garrus, but when their eyes met, she quickly looked away. Be cool, she ordered herself. We’re in Serious Business Mode. She cleared her throat and brought her hand to her chin. “Hmm,” she mumbled in a vague attempt to appear thoughtful.

“What are you thinking?” Garrus asked her.

That I want to climb you like a tree, she thought fleetingly before landing on a more appropriate response. “I was... contemplating,” she lied, “About the Crucible.” She nodded to Liara. “Lia- er, um- Doctor T’Soni, can you...?”

“Of course,” Liara agreed. “Primarch, this device may be our only chance against the Reapers. But, we need the support of a united galaxy for it to work.”

“How long will it take to build?” He asked her.

“It depends entirely on how much help we can get,” said Liara. “But I estimate a month or two, at minimum, if we can maintain our current stream of resources and manpower.”

Victus shook his head. “And what is a ‘united galaxy’ meant to accomplish during this ‘month or two,’ Dr. T’Soni?”

“Coordinate defenses,” she said. “And save as many people as possible.”

“And buy us time to prepare for a counterattack,” Shepard was sure to add. “When the device is complete, we need to engage every available fleet in the galaxy upon deployment.”

“Where?” Victus asked.

“Wherever the Reapers are most concentrated,” she answered. “So... Earth.” Shepard had to stop herself from adding, ‘If they can survive that long.’ It was obviously implied.

“I’m not sure Earth or Palaven are in any shape to hold out that long,” Victus argued. “And I can’t send turian soldiers to fight and die on Earth while Palaven burns.”

She put her hands on her hips- caught herself again- and crossed her arms. “But, if we could just... slow them down...”

“You’re presenting us with an impossible choice, Commander," said the primarch. "Palaven or Earth. We can’t save both.”

Garrus cleared his throat. “Well, unless...”

Shepard looked at him hopefully. “Unless?” She prompted him.

“Unless... we get some help on the ground.”

“What do you have in mind?” Victus beckoned for him to continue.

Garrus nodded. “If the Reapers wanted to, they could just kill everything in their path,” he reminded them. “But they don’t- they take people alive. They destroy defense systems and military resistance, but then they dig into the civilian population with ground units. That takes time.” 

“Yes,” Victus granted him, “Countless ground units that consistently overwhelm even the most trained soldiers.”

“Well, do we know of any infantry troopers who can hold their own against overwhelming numbers?”

“Wait,” Liara picked up on his insinuation, “You mean...?”

“The krogan,” Victus finished for her in understanding. “Yes... that would certainly take the pressure off Palaven.”

“The krogan might be the key to getting us the time we need,” Garrus added. “And, I honestly don’t think this war can be won without them.”

Shepard’s breath caught in her chest as excitement tickled behind her ribs.

Jesus.

Jesus christ.

Jesus fucking christ!

Garrus just advised the shit out of that primarch! That confidence; that expertise; It was like watching him hit a bullseye while upside-down and blindfolded. Focus, Shepard! She ordered herself. “Hmm,” she hummed as she brought her hand to her chin. Oh, man, her face was getting warm...

“What are your thoughts, Commander?” Victus prompted her.

“Y-yes, I agree, the same,” she stuttered clumsily. “The krogan. Great idea, Gar- uh, Advisor Vakarian. We should give Tuchanka a call, post haste.”

Liara let out a short laugh, failing to disguise it as a cough.

Did I just say ‘post haste’?? Shepard wondered with horror. What the hell kind of ‘vibe’ was that supposed to be?? “Specialist Traynor,” she addressed the com assistant while she tried to shake off the awkwardness, “See if you can find us a secure channel to Chief Urdnot Wrex.”

“Right away, Commander,” Traynor replied.

Don’t stare at Garrus, Shepard reminded herself for the hundredth time that day. 

Hands off hips. 

Mind the vibe.

This.

Was.

Serious. 

Business. 

Mode.

Chapter Text

~~~Welcome to Star Crossed, the Galaxy’s #1 Social Network for Romance!~~~

Upgrade to Premium Membership today at 50% off! 

Don’t delay- true love awaits! 

......

[SweeDeePie_2164] Sending you updates as I get them, just reply here if you want me to do a segment on any of them:

[SweeDeePie_2164] Matriarch Benezia’s daughter is here.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Cerberus is the worst and they’re shitting all over the war effort.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Apparently there are like a million different types of Reapers.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Barcas Fedorian is dead; Adrien Victus is the new primarch of Palaven.

[SweeDeePie_2164] The summit’s been delayed; they invited the krogan, now the salarians are throwing a fit, and the asari are threatening not to come at all.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Hello? Seriously???

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Don’t you have a direct quantum channel to Earth?

[SweeDeePie_2164] The Normandy does. But it’s for priority communications between generals and stuff. I don’t have access.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Why the hell did we even bother to get you Alliance clearance?

[SweeDeePie_2164] What the fuck is your deal? I’m getting you the biggest stories of the war and you’re whining.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I’m not interested in that shit. Go ahead and prep your stories for the back burner, but I want news about EARTH.

[SweeDeePie_2164] We all want news about Earth, but not at the expense of the war effort, idiot.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I knew this was a bad idea.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Why are you being such a dick? You don’t even care about how I’m doing out here or anything.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Fine. How’s life on the front lines? 

[SweeDeePie_2164] It sucks. Everyone’s stressed out. 

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Making any new friends?

[SweeDeePie_2164] I don’t think anyone here likes me. The com specialist is nice, at least.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Sounds amazing, Dee.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Look, you want me to run any of those segments for Battle Space, or what?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Go ahead and do the one about the types of Reapers. Make it a PSA. I'll try to get a comment from the council about the Primarch.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Should I change up my look to be more serious? Maybe get another outfit?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Don’t change ANYTHING. It’s so morbid, but our ratings are higher than ever. People are paying attention. We can’t jeopardize that kind of engagement when it’s a matter of life and death.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Tits out for the cause, I guess.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] And what's the deal with Cerberus? I thought you once did a piece about how they were misunderstood.

[SweeDeePie_2164] That was back when Shepard was with them. Now they're literally insane. They're lying to recruit people. We have to warn everyone not to join up.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Got any proof? We can't risk a libel suit from a powerful organization like that.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Don't be a bootlicker, Paul.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Just do the Reaper piece.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Are you sure? What if the Reapers get mad and take us to court?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Whatever. Just keep the updates coming, and don't run any segments without my ok.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Whatever.

Chapter Text

Garrus and Shepard

It was difficult to stick to any kind of schedule in the days ahead. Supply exchanges were always needed. Com network infrastructure was hanging on by a thread. Civilians needed rescuing. Resources and personnel had to be tracked down. And the Normandy certainly couldn’t do it all, so prioritizing their agenda was a challenge all its own. 

“There will be an influx of turian refugees at the Citadel,” the primarch told Garrus. “Coordinate with C-Sec about accommodating them.”

“Yes, sir,” Garrus confirmed. “We’ll get them taken care of.”

“We need to get serious about fuel conservation,” Engineer Adams warned Shepard. “Depots are being destroyed; we can’t depend on them for emergency refueling or we could end up adrift.”

“Noted,” said Shepard. “Go ahead and adjust minimum reserves accordingly.”

It was just nonstop. And it hadn’t even been three days since the primarch came aboard!

But then, they got a tip about a Cerberus operation; Very actionable intel. “A Prothean artifact,” Liara reported. “We need to get our hands on it before Cerberus does.” So, they cleared their flight plan and made an emergency detour to the Exodus cluster; Priority one.

Suddenly, an extra day of travel awaited them. 

And maybe... a moment to stop and breathe?

Shepard wondered if anyone would notice her casual stroll through the mess and down the battery corridor. Just cool and casual; easy breezy. She even brought a data pad, so she could pretend to casually read on the way. No one would give her a second glance, she reasoned. She was just so gosh-darned casual...

At the same time, Garrus’ attention kept drifting while he tried to wind down with some Thanix calibrations. Would it be too weird, he wondered, to send Shepard another message asking if she ‘happened to be free’ for the second time that day?

She hit the panel, not bothering to knock or ring the chime. That was the casual way to pop in for an unexpected visit, right?

The battery doors hissed open.

He turned around from his worktable.

She casually stepped inside.

Okay, then, they realized as the doors closed behind her.

Here they were. Just the two of them.

Alone.

At first, the tension was so thick, it constricted their breathing and froze them in place. They’d imagined this moment countless times... but now it was here. How was it supposed to go? What were they supposed to do? They were petrified by the uncertainty of what would happen next.

But then, they found each other's gaze.

And there was a pull.

They were magnetized, powerless against the current that snapped them into each other's arms. They nearly tumbled over, but Garrus was steady on his feet as he held Shepard fast and pressed his mouth to hers.

She kissed him back so forcefully, she almost bloodied her own lip.

They were starved for each other. Ravenous. How long had they been literally aching for this chance, they wondered? Six months? A hundred years? Certainly long enough!

Yes, they agreed implicitly. 

Here. 

Now. 

They couldn’t say anything- they didn’t dare. It was too risky. What if talking somehow brought them to their senses? What if it broke the spell? Hell, what if they woke up?

They’d better keep quiet and hurry up, just in case!

Not a single word was spoken as they scrambled for access to each other; unclasping, unbuttoning, and unbuckling anything in their way with selfish, voracious anticipation. Please, they begged each other silently, Let me see you.

Let me touch you.

Let me have you.

Garrus couldn't wait any longer. In one fluid motion, he swept his worktable clear and lifted Shepard up onto it. He'd always secretly wanted to do that... and she'd always secretly wanted him to.

Worth the mess, he thought as the tools and data pads clattered to the floor.

Worth the chaffing, she thought as his hips jutted against her bare thighs.

But then they forced themselves to pause. They were six months out of practice, they remembered. Someone could get hurt if they weren’t careful...

They were sure to take a slow, deliberate moment to angle themselves just so. She reached down to gently guide him in. Their gazes met as they fully connected. 

At last.

Finally.

Her body tensed and her eyes prickled, as if she were about to weep with relief. He couldn't hold back a desperate groan as he was enveloped by her intoxicating heat. They pressed their foreheads together, reveling in the solace of their own little world. 

Reapers?

What Reapers?

This moment was theirs, and theirs alone.

Then he cradled her face with his hand, tilting it upward to find her lips with his. They greedily drank each other in.

She began to writhe.

He began to thrust.

By now, they’d both accepted that this was no dream, and they suddenly wished they’d taken more time to relish the moment. Maybe they should have started slowly, savoring each other through gentle, languid caresses. They might have restrained themselves and held on to this point in time for as long as possible.

Of course, it was far too late for that now.

“Garrus,” she finally whimpered...

“Shepard,” he finally panted...

Release churned between them; a precious ecstasy that neither of them had ever expected to know again. They were more than lucky; More than fortunate; More than blessed.

They were together again.

But...

There was one, teeny tiny, itty bitty, wee little problem...

...

...

They'd forgotten to lock the door.

Chapter Text

COLLECTED MESSAGES

R. Shepard <--> G. Vakarian

SHEPARD: Okay I am freaking out!

VAKARIAN: Well at least I’m not the only one!

SHEPARD: Is there some kind of secret diplomatic protocol for situations like these?

VAKARIAN: Not that I know of, did you check the handbook?

SHEPARD: Of course I checked! There's NOTHING!

VAKARIAN: He saw my workstation... Oh spirits, he saw everything scattered all over the ground!

SHEPARD: I doubt the primarch cared about the clutter, Garrus!

VAKARIAN: Easy for you to say, it wasn’t your workstation!

SHEPARD: Are you telling me that in turian culture, seeing a messy room is a bigger problem than walking in on your co-chair fucking your advisor?

VAKARIAN: They’re just... really different kinds of problems, Shepard!

SHEPARD: Please be honest: Would anything like this ever happen if the primarch was on a turian ship?

SHEPARD: Well???

VAKARIAN: Um, not to my knowledge.  

SHEPARD: I knew it! The vibe is FUCKED!

VAKARIAN: You’re worried about the vibe?

SHEPARD: It’s kind of important for diplomatic negotiations at the highest level, don’t you think?

VAKARIAN: Damn, when you put it like that...

SHEPARD: Ugh, I was really hoping you’d insist I was overreacting.

VAKARIAN: Well, what did his ‘vibe’ seem like when you talked to him?

SHEPARD: I haven’t talked to him, I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck to say!

VAKARIAN: Oh no.

SHEPARD: You... you haven’t talked to him either?

VAKARIAN: Why is the room spinning?

SHEPARD: Because we are reckless idiots?

VAKARIAN: We’re making it worse by avoiding him, you know. Maybe I should see if he’s still awake, try to explain, maybe get a read on him.

SHEPARD: No. I’ll talk to him first thing in the morning- it really should be me. 

VAKARIAN: What are you going to say?

SHEPARD: I don’t know yet- I’m gonna make a quick call.

VAKARIAN: Shepard, listen.

SHEPARD: ?

VAKARIAN: I just want you to know, that whatever happens... It was worth it.

SHEPARD: God damn right, and you can chisel that on my tombstone.

Quantum Entanglement Pair: NSR2.2 - CT.A.2

Audio Transcript

---CALL CONNECTED---

[UDINA] Shepard? What's wrong?

[SHEPARD] Oh my god, you were asleep!

[UDINA] You said it was an emergency, now what’s going on?

[SHEPARD] I... I think I fucked up the vibe.

[UDINA] You're going to have to be more specific.

[SHEPARD] The primarch, he... um, well, I was in the battery with my... with... Garrus, and we were... um, fraternizing...

[UDINA] You were fraternizing with the primarch?

[SHEPARD] No, with Garrus!

[UDINA] For god's sake, Shepard!

[SHEPARD] It was an accident! He was touring the ship!

[UDINA] Why would Garrus need a tour?

[SHEPARD] No, the primarch!

[UDINA] Don't you have your own quarters? Are there no privacy locks on the Normandy?

[SHEPARD] Look, it happened, okay? So what do I do now? How badly have I fucked this up?

[UDINA] Well, how much did he see?

[SHEPARD] Let's just say... he didn't have to use his imagination.

[UDINA] You’ve really done it now, Shepard! We need advice from a turian. I'm getting Sparatus on the call.

[SHEPARD] Oh my god, no!

[UDINA] This is happening, Shepard.

[SPARATUS] What's the emergency? 

[UDINA] Go on, Shepard. Tell Councilor Sparatus what you did.

[SHEPARD] I... was screwing the primarch’s advisor in the gun battery and he walked in on us.

[SPARATUS] Spirits! Don't you have your own private quarters? Are there no privacy locks on the Normandy?

[SHEPARD] Just tell me how to fix this!

[SPARATUS] Let me think. Was there anyone else there?

[SHEPARD] One of my officers was escorting him.

[SPARATUS] Human?

[SHEPARD] Yeah.

[SPARATUS] Any other turians nearby? 

[SHEPARD] No, they’re the only two turians on the ship.

[SPARATUS] Right. And how did the primarch react exactly? 

[SHEPARD] He, uh, cleared his throat and walked away.

[SPARATUS] Hm. So, he didn’t say anything?

[SHEPARD] I don’t think so. Not that I heard.

[SPARATUS] Well... that could either be really good, or really bad.

[SHEPARD] Wow, that’s really helpful, Councilor. I’m so glad you’re here.

[SPARATUS] I’m sure Victus is a reasonable man. Your best bet is to simply own up to it, and apologize for your lapse in judgement.

[UDINA] Won’t she be undermining her position?

[SPARATUS] She’s already undermined her position! This is the only viable way forward.

[SHEPARD] This is... humiliating...

[UDINA] Shake it off, Shepard. There’s no room for that in politics.

[SHEPARD] I hate pol-

[SPARATUS] Politics, we know. 

[UDINA] In the meantime, keep your pants on in front of the primarch, will you?

[SHEPARD] Ugh, don’t talk to me about my pants!

[UDINA] Shepard, I’d rather be doing literally anything else, but you called me.

[SHEPARD] Aarrgghh!

---CALL ENDED---

Chapter Text

......

?...{Wake/Death}...?

Breathe~Stand~Aware

Search~Sense~Know

......

?...{Context+Absence}...?

?...{Alone/Death}...?

......

!...{Threat+Unfamiliar}...!

“!...{Get back+Obey}...!”

Push~Force~Away

Imbalance~Collapse~Pain

?...{Confusion/Weakness}...?

!...{Anger+Nonsense}...!

!...{Insolence+Unknowing}...!

Reach~Hold~Neck

......

So, it was true.

A new Cycle.

It was obvious now. All sense of familiarity was coated in time; a corrosive scum against his fingertips. He could understand nothing...

...Except for this strange, ancient cipher of Knowing, embedded in alien consciousness. It had been tampered with; Simplified; Limited. But, it was enough. He could adapt to her paradigm. He could contextualize her sensory inputs. 

He could think in her language.

He allowed her to breathe, but continued to hold her firmly in place by her neck. She clutched at his arm, but she did not fight back.

“How many others survived?” He implored her. He spoke with great effort, testing the words in his mouth, modulating his breath, estimating the resonance in his voice. 

“Just you,” she rasped with wavering resolve. “I’m... sorry.”

So, I am alone. He sensed the truth, but could not yet embrace it. “And who are you?” He demanded.

“I’m not your enemy,” she said.

Again, he sensed the truth. He removed his grip and took three steps back. “We shall see.”

“So you... understand me?”

“Yes.”

“And I guess I... understand you?”

“It would seem.”

The others were soon back on their feet, and they quickly approached. 

“It’s okay, we can communicate now,” she assured them, though she was still afraid.

He finally noticed their physical markers: Blue skin; tufts of hair; face plates. “Asari... human... turian...” he confirmed aloud, one by one. 

The human nodded. “I think we have a lot to talk about," she said, “But it’s not safe here.”

He bared his teeth in disgust. “Reapers!” He guessed.

“Not this time,” she said, “But, we could use your help fighting them.”

The others spoke again, hissing and cooing in their strange languages.

“I must know you to understand you,” he reminded them, putting out his hand in expectation.

But they simply stared at him.

“I think he needs to touch you,” the human explained.

They allowed him- but he was not reassured; only more discouraged. They had no cipher of Knowing. This human was the only one. 

And she was barely aware of it.

“Will you join us?” She asked him.

He balked at the notion, but he saw no other path before him. Until he could get his bearings, he needed her Knowing. What else was there to do, except for what he must? “For now,” he finally agreed.

“Okay,” she said.

A moment of wary silence passed between them as he looked from face to face. Their anxiety was suffocating. But he could only pity them, for they did not understand the tragedy of their limitations. They did not comprehend the Knowing. They were so blind. So simple. So ignorant. 

So... primitive...

Chapter Text

James

James did a double take when he spotted Victus lingering in front of the memorial wall. He hadn’t seen the primarch outside the war room since they’d left Menae. “Sir,” he greeted him cordially.

“Lieutenant,” he replied in kind.

“Settling in ok?” He asked.

“More or less,” he said. “This is a remarkable ship.”

James nodded. “You got that right.”

“Outfitted with a modified Thanix cannon, if I recall.”

“Yeah, it packs a punch. They say it blew up a collector ship.”

“I’m sure it’s very impressive.”

“You haven’t seen it?”

“Hm,” Victus shook his head. “I haven’t had many chances to step away. And I wouldn’t want to wander the ship unescorted.”

“Well shit- er, I mean, shoot,” James quickly corrected himself, “I’m happy to show you around, Primarch. Wanna go take a look?”

“I’d appreciate that Lieutenant,” he agreed with a friendly nod.

......

When the doors to the battery hissed open, James immediately knew something was amiss. A pair of frantic voices were yelping and grunting, and his first thought was that he'd just stumbled onto a medical emergency.

But when he saw the pair going at it on the worktable, he realized he’d had it all wrong! “Oh, whoops!” He sputtered instinctively. 

Vakarian froze.

Shepard gasped. “Oh my god!” She hissed in a shrill whisper when she realized who had just walked in.

Victus cleared his throat and quickly backed out of the battery.

James followed, gobsmacked, and the doors closed behind them. Did that really just happen???

The primarch looked uncertain for a moment, then cleared his throat again. “Excuse me,” he muttered, then hurried off in the opposite direction.

James felt a sudden rush of first and secondhand embarrassment for all involved, and he had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing his ass off. He almost felt guilty for invading their privacy- but really, they could have (should have!) locked the door! Then he'd have to ring the intercom or enter an override command to get inside. Crisis averted!

Shit... they didn’t leave it unlocked on purpose, did they?

Nah, he brushed it off. More likely they’d just forgotten in the heat of the moment. He couldn’t fault them for that!

James wondered how long he’d have to wait before poking fun at the commander about this whole fiasco; but when he saw her flee the battery in a panicked, disheveled mess, he realized it might be a little while. That’s okay- he could be patient! 

But, the events of the next day put the incident out of his mind completely.

“We just brought back a Prothean,” Cortez reported in a hushed tone.

“A Prothean what?” James asked him. 

“Not a what, a who,” he corrected him. “We found a Prothean person in stasis. Now he's awake, and they have him set up in Port Cargo.”

James blinked in confusion, then let out an awkward scoff. “Aw shit, you almost had me, pandejo!”

“Heh, yeah,” the shuttle pilot smirked. “Shoulda seen the look on your face.”

It took James another couple of seconds to catch on. “Wait... you're serious? “

"Could hardly believe my own eyes,” he replied.

James gave a low whistle. “Well, what does it look like?”

Cortez grimaced. "Yeah, I guess I should warn you... he kinda looks like a Collector.”

Fuck’s sake. “Fuck’s sake! I hope he stays friendly.”

“Good thing we got him before Cerberus did,” the shuttle pilot added.

“Ha, that’s right,” James chuckled, “I bet the Illusive Man’s boiling in his brandy right now. Took that Prothean right out from under him.”

“Must be pretty crazy being the last of your kind, fifty thousand years removed.”

He couldn’t even imagine it. “That’s bound to screw with your mind,” he said. “Here’s hoping he can help us with the Reapers.”

“I wonder if there's something we can do to make him feel more welcome?" Cortez mused. "Maybe show him around the ship?”

James was suddenly reminded of the day before, and laughed out loud. “You go ahead, Esteban,” he encouraged him, “I am officially DONE playing tour guide around here!”

A Prothean, though, he thought vaguely to himself as he went on with the rest his day. A real live Prothean. 

This was definitely going to shake things up around here!

Chapter Text

Commander Shepard’s reputation precedes her. She’s a soldier at heart, and a natural leader. Her confidence is inspiring, and one can’t help but admire her staunch certainty that nothing is impossible.

She's not exactly ‘by the book;’ but I think that's something we have in common.

-Primarch Adrien Victus

Shepard

“Commander, I owe you an apology,” said Victus as she entered the war room.

And just like that, Shepard's extensively rehearsed, vibe-salvaging explanation to the primarch evaporated into thin air. “Um... you do?”

He nodded. “I realize that I've been very demanding of both your and Garrus’ time.”

“Oh, no, Primarch,” she insisted quickly, “There's a war going on. We’re happy to help.”

He sighed. “Commander, the truth is that my new responsibilities as primarch have been... harrowing. Our dealings with the salarian and asari governments have been very eye opening.”

Shepard nodded in understanding. “They really are being impossible.”

“It's much easier in the military,” Victus went on. “Rank is clear; You give orders, and expect them to be followed. But diplomacy? Governance?” He let out a bitter chuckle. “This is an entirely different game.” 

“I know what you mean,” she agreed; probably more than he knew.

“That is all to say, I've been depending heavily on you and Garrus since we departed Menae.” 

“But that’s a good thing, Primarch,” she insisted. “We all need to depend on each other right now.”

“Yes, but this war is bigger than Palaven, Commander,” he said, “And Garrus’ talents are wasted on much of the work I've given him. I value him as an advisor, but your A.I. is more than capable at assisting with administrative tasks. I expect the Normandy needs Garrus Vakarian more than I do right now.”

Shepard paused to get her bearings; she didn’t expect this at all. She’d been prepared to apologize and humble herself before the primarch; but somehow, the roles had been reversed! “I... yes, actually,” she finally agreed. “If you can spare him, I could sure use him- er, on missions, I mean.”

Victus nodded in approval. “I assume he’ll be amenable to the arrangement as well?”

“I’m sure he will,” she said. “But he'll probably argue with you anyway. He takes his duty to you very seriously.”

“That he does,” Victus concurred. “However, the good news is that I'm his primarch, and he has to do what I say.”

Shepard chuckled. “Right. So, um... I think it's my turn to apologize now.”

“I can't think of any reason why you should,” he replied.

Shepard had to hold back an awkward laugh. This fucking guy, she mused silently. Was he really going to make her spell it out? “That was... a very awkward situation in the battery," she said. "The fact that I allowed it to happen was careless and disrespectful.”

He waved her off. “For all I know, my predecessor might have thought the same,” he granted her. “But these are unprecedented times, and I can’t begrudge anyone for... well, for blowing off steam. Especially when down time is so scarce.”

Wow. Adrien Victus wasn’t at all what she'd expected; as a turian general-turned-primarch, Shepard assumed he would take protocol and procedure very seriously. But, he didn't seem to operate that way at all. He was... well, he was actually pretty damn cool! “Thank you, Primarch,” she said. “You've been very understanding.”

“Of course, Commander,” he granted her before returning to work.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she added wryly, daring to put his ‘cool’ attitude to the test.

"Yes?"

“When you next talk to Garrus,” she said, “Be sure to give him a hard time about the state of his worktable in the battery.”

Victus laughed as she left the war room, to her delight. Yeah, he was definitely cool!

She experienced a wave of relief as she headed to the CIC. The ‘vibe’ was officially unruffled; and it had been all along! In fact, it seemed better than ever. She never had anything to worry about in the first place!

But then, that meant... that she’d told half the Council about her sex life for no goddamn reason. Oh, god... why the fuck did she do that???

Because I panicked, she realized. She was still feeling so unsure of herself. She had no idea what she was doing. Of course, Shepard knew she could hold her own in a fight; and she knew she could effectively lead a team. She definitely knew she could command a ship. But, playing politician during a galactic invasion?

This was way beyond her expertise!

And yet, Primarch Adrien Victus had just confessed to feeling the same way. He had led his share of military operations- but negotiating for the Hierarchy was completely outside his wheelhouse. There was no manual to consult for a Reaper war; no handbook for a galactic apocalypse. 

Shepard’s heart tensed with anxiety as it finally occurred to her that this was the case for everyone.  

Nobody knew what they were doing. Not Shepard, not Victus, and certainly not the Councilors.

Maybe not even Anderson...

...or Hackett.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. For better or for worse, they were all pioneers in this war. And there were no do-overs.

Which was all the more reason to put aside their differences and work together.

It was hard not to get distracted by her ruminations... but they were almost forgotten by the next day. Suddenly, notions like ‘vibe’ and ‘propriety’ seemed wholly inconsequential.

Because they found a living Prothean. A stasis pod had survived the ages, buried deep under the surface of Eden Prime. It had been operational and undisturbed for over 50,000 years. 

And the person inside wasn’t what anyone expected.

He resembled a Collector in some ways: Four eyes, tall stature, and a wide carapace that curved over the top of his head. But while the Collectors were unthinking drones of chitin and tech, this Prothean was alive, feisty, and very much his own person.

“Are you sure we can trust him not to cause trouble?” Garrus asked Shepard on the shuttle ride back to the Normandy.

“I can understand you, turian,” the Prothean reminded him.

“Right,” said Garrus. “But that doesn’t change my question.”

“If I wanted any of you dead,” the Prothean replied, “Your corpses would still be at the dig site.”

“Well, at least he’s friendly,” Cortez commented from the pilot seat.

The Prothean scoffed. “Are all primitives so childish?”

Shepard wanted to snap at him- to admonish him for being such a dick to the people who’d just saved him from Cerberus. But, she reminded herself that he was about 50,000 years off-kilter. It was understandable that he’d be a little... grumpy. “So, what should we call you?” She asked carefully.

“It does not matter,” he said.

She stifled a snarky retort. “Well, it matters to me,” she said. “To us.”

He let out a quiet huff. “Javik.”

“Is that your name?”

“Not exactly- but your language is limited, so it will have to do.”

“Javik,” she echoed. “Well, it's good to meet you. I'm Commander Shepard.”

“I know that already,” he reminded her.

“I'm... Dr. Liara T’Soni,” Liara introduced herself in a quiet voice. She'd been awestruck since the Prothean awoke from stasis, and had hardly said a word since.

“Hm,” Javik grunted dismissively. He folded his hands tightly together, then closed his eyes and bowed his head in contemplation. He looked uncomfortable, but he said nothing.

Neither did anyone else on the rest of the way back.

Getting Javik settled in on the Normandy turned out to be a special challenge all its own.

“No," he growled when they showed him the cargo bay. “This is unacceptable.”

“Can you be more specific?” Shepard prompted him patiently.

He frowned (Jesus, he never stopped frowning), then balled his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes shut, as if it pained him to concentrate. “Too dry,” he finally said, “Too bright; too dirty.”

“Okay,” she said, "We can dim the lights and increase the humidity, but I don’t know if we can sterilize the space any more than we already have.”

“No, not ‘unclean',” he clarified as he rubbed his fingers together. “Rusted; Coarse. I must wash my hands. I need... water.”

“We can arrange that,” she agreed, then tasked Adams and Liara with handling his requests.

That very night, Javik paged Shepard while she was fast asleep, insisting he needed to speak with her. She grudgingly relented, yawning and rubbing her eyes as she made her way down to Deck 4.

It was a whole different biome in Port Cargo now; The lights were low, the air was muggy, and a few basins of ionized water had been installed at his request demand. But, despite their best attempts to accommodate him, he seemed impossible to please, and he never missed a chance to voice his many grievances.

She wondered what else must be wrong for him to call her down at this hour.

He glanced in Shepard’s direction when she came in, but didn’t bother to greet her.

“So,” she said, "How's the space working out?”

“It is slightly more tolerable,” he grumbled.

“Okay,” she said. “That’s... good to hear.”

“Are you expecting thanks?”

“Uh, only if you mean it, I guess.”

“Then I will not be giving it.”

She huffed in annoyance. “You know what? I’m going back to bed.”

“Commander, wait,” he stopped her. “We can... talk, if you wish.”

“You called me,” she reminded him curtly, "It sounds like you want to talk.”

He frowned. “Very well,” he granted her, as if this was still all her idea.

This fucking guy, Shepard lamented to herself as she sat down on one of the storage crates.

“Must we sit?” He asked in exasperation.

“Must we not?” She countered.

He sighed, chose an adjacent crate, then held out his hand in expectation.

Reluctantly, she offered up her own.

He touched her forearm with his fingertips, and clasped his other hand around her wrist. “Commander,” he said as he lowered his gaze, “Why are you the only primitive with the Knowing?”

“The Knowing?”

“The cipher,” he clarified.

Where do I even start with that? She wondered. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Tell me,” he bade her. “Remember it; Picture it with your mind; Let your emotions resurface, and I will understand.”

“Okay, I’ll... try.” She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. 

She focused on the memory of her first mission on the Normandy: Anderson was captain at the time, and she was his first officer. Nihlus Kryik was aboard to observe Shepard as a Spectre candidate. 

God, it felt like a lifetime ago. More than a lifetime.

“I guess it all started on the same planet we found you on,” she began. “Eden Prime. Human colonists discovered one of your beacons, and we were sent to investigate. But before we got there, the colony was attacked.”

“Reapers?” Asked Javik.

“Sort of,” she said. “It was one Reaper- Sovereign- with an army of synthetics, led by a turian Spectre named Saren Arterius. He was Sovereign's agent, and he needed the beacon for information.”

“What information?” Javik prompted her.

Shepard concentrated, trying to recall the details. “He was looking for the conduit,” she remembered, “To infiltrate the Citadel. The beacon contained information on how to find it. Once he had what he needed, he tried to cover his tracks by destroying the entire colony. We stopped him, but he got away.”

“You also touched the beacon?” Javik confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Continue.”

“I couldn't make sense of the visions,” she went on, “And neither could Saren, apparently. He- we- needed a way to understand. We needed a cipher. I guess Protheans call it the ‘Knowing’."

“Where did you find it?”

“I don’t know where he got the intel,” she replied, “But Saren discovered that the thorian had a cipher.”

“What is this ‘thorian’?”

“It was... well, it was a giant plant. But it was sentient. And ancient; it absorbed life and memories from its victims.” She held back a shudder as she recalled the events on Feros. “It had absorbed the cipher from a Prothean; Maybe even more than one Prothean.”

“How did you access the cipher from this thorian?” He asked pointedly.

“Through an asari,” she explained. “They’re telepathic. Saren convinced the thorian to impart the cipher to Shiala- one of his asari agents- who then imparted it to Saren himself. Later, she imparted it to me.”

“You were... impaired by the effects,” he stated in understanding.

“Yes,” she replied. “Liara helped me recover. Saren must have been helped the same way by Benezia.”

Javik shook his head in frustration. “And yet, you still seem baffled by your own Knowing.”

“I’m not even conscious of it,” she admitted. “Most of the time I forget it’s even a thing.”

He seemed to take it all in, then nodded slowly. “I understand,” he finally said.

“Really? Because I barely understand it myself.”

“You would understand better if you could read my Knowing for context,” he said. “It should go both ways.”

“Should?”

“You are not Prothean," he said. "I do not know if you are able.”

“Well... how do I try?”

He grumbled in annoyance. “How does one explain sight to a creature with borrowed eyes?”

Shepard tried not to take offense at the term ‘creature.’ She gave an exaggerated shrug and glared at him with impatience.

“Concentrate,” he finally relented. “Can you sense my presence in your mind?”

“I... whoa...” A strange pressure suddenly darted behind her eyes. It wasn't much more than a tickle... but it was definitely something.

“Push back,” he instructed her. “No, wait,” he corrected himself, “Not pushing...”  

“Wielding,” she offered. How did she know that?

“Yes,” he agreed. “Wield it.”

She furrowed her brow and focused on the ‘tickle.” It seemed both dangerous and fragile; Sharp and slippery; Like a blade of melting ice. It nearly eluded her grasp, but if she could just... hold it gently...

“Yes,” he urged her. She noticed his eyes were closed, so she closed her own. Then-

!...{Frustration+Anger}...!

!...{Silence+Loss}...!

Exist~Endure~Alone

She gasped as she suddenly sensed his pain. It was corrosive, and suffocating, and completely overwhelmed her senses. His hands! They were on fire! They were freezing! They were being flayed with invisible knives! The sensation snaked up his arms, through his gut, and into his head- just behind his eyes. Shepard could feel it in her own body, and it took her breath away. How was Javik just sitting still? How was he even functioning??

She couldn’t stand it any longer!  Put your hands in the water! She tried to scream.

Instead, she blacked out.

Chapter Text

Garrus

Before Menae, ‘Primarch Adrien Victus’ was something Garrus never expected to see.

The Victus name was pretty well known on Palaven, but it was a military name. There was a sort of 'collective expectation' of the family line to excel at war and leadership. But, before meeting Adrien Victus himself, Garrus really only knew three things about him as an individual:

1. He was an unconventional but effective strategist.
2. Castis didn't care for him.
3. Solana was obsessed with him.

Seriously- if Sol knew Garrus was Adrien Victus’ top advisor, she would be losing her mind. Ever since they were young teenagers still living at home, she'd been utterly infatuated with the rising star in the turian military.

“Adrien’s on the news!” She'd croon to her friends in that stupid, annoying, little sister voice.

“Ooh, I love it when he wears that armor,” said Friend #1.

“Spirits, those mandibles!” Added Friend #2

“I just want to bite them!” Sol exclaimed impishly.

Their mother gasped from the next room. “Solana!”

“Oops, you weren't supposed to hear that, mom!”

“Then why are you being so loud?” Garrus chided her. 

Sol scoffed playfully. “And why are you listening?”

Garrus rolled his eyes and literally cringed at the memory. But, damn it... he really hoped his stupid, annoying little sister was okay...

“Garrus, we need to talk,” said Victus in a stern voice when he arrived in the war room.

“Of course,” he agreed tentatively.

The primarch straightened his posture and pulled his hands behind his back, as if he were about to deliver some very bad news. “Was that... your disorderly worktable in the battery?” He finally said.

Garrus froze, and was nearly overcome with a dizzying wave of embarrassment as one of his worst nightmares began to unfold...

Until he noticed that the primarch was struggling to keep a straight face.

He sighed and shook his head in defeat. “You... must have talked to Shepard,” He guessed.

To his relief, Victus chuckled. “You know, the commander isn’t at all what I expected,” he confessed.

Garrus forced a chuckle of his own. “Yeah, she tends to have that effect on people,” he said.

“Indeed.”

“So... Ready for the summit?” Garrus asked him in a desperate attempt to change the subject. The Normandy would be hosting the salarians and the krogan (but not the asari, unfortunately) in just a few days. Hopefully, Cerberus wouldn't hold them up with whatever they were up to on Eden Prime.

“I would like to talk to you about that, actually,” the primarch replied.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed with relief.

Victus paused, as if to gather his thoughts. “What can you tell me about Urdnot Wrex?” He finally asked.

That he's stubborn, cranky, and old? Garrus mused silently. “Probably no more than his official dossier,” he offered instead.

“I don’t mean biographical facts,” Victus clarified. “I want to know what kind of man he is- from your perspective.”

Garrus nodded as he considered the primarch’s request. “Well, he's certainly rough around the edges,” he reiterated, “But, he’s honorable. And candid.” He paused to consider his next words... and decided that he meant them: “And I’d count him a friend.”

“I see,” said Victus. “How do you suppose a krogan managed to earn that kind of respect from a turian?”

“Well, for one thing, he warmed my heart with his winning personality,” he joked.

The primarch chuckled again. “I’d like to know more,” he said, “Tell me whatever you can.”

Garrus obliged, and proceeded to recount his work with Wrex on the Normandy SR1, as well as their dealings on Tuchanka after the krogan had become chief of clan Urdnot. As he did so, he was surprised to realize that he was actually looking forward to seeing the old grouch again.

When they finally finished up for the day, he also realized that he’d learned something new about Adrien Victus: 

      4. He was the best primarch that Palaven could have hoped for during this terrible war.

“Have you heard from your family?” Victus asked him before he left.

Garrus held back a pained grimace. “No, not yet,” he replied.

“My thoughts are with them,” the primarch bowed his head in sympathy.

“Thank you, sir.”

As Garrus meandered back to the battery to wind down with some calibrations, he couldn’t help but wonder if he'd ever get the chance to tell Sol about his work with Primarch Victus. Maybe she’d croon about it in that stupid, annoying, little sister voice of hers again. Maybe their dad would shake his head in exasperation and admonish her for being immature. 

Maybe Garrus would chime in and say they were both being petty.

Maybe the three of them would have a little argument about who was being the most unreasonable, and then spend the next few minutes in tense, frustrated silence.

Maybe.

He hoped.

To Garrus’ dismay, the Prothean had only been aboard the Normandy for one night before causing more trouble than he was worth.

“Garrus!” Came a voice from the battery com.

He jolted awake.

“Garrus, are you there?” It was Liara T’Soni.

“Yeah,” he grunted as he fought the grogginess and sat himself up, “What's going on?”

“Something’s happened to Shepard in port cargo, we need to-”

“On my way,” he cut her off.

When he got to the lift, Liara was already on it. She must have come from the CIC.

“What happened?” He implored her as they descended to the deck below.

“I don't know exactly. Dr. Chakwas paged me for help.”

He wished Chakwas would have called him, too; but he was glad the asari clued him in, at least.

“She's unresponsive,” the doctor reported when they got there. Her med kit was open and active as she knelt over Shepard. “I've run a scan- but I don't think it’s physiological.”

“What can I do?” Garrus asked, struggling to stay calm as Shepard lay unconscious on the ground.

“Just... stand by,” Chakwas instructed him dismissively. “Dr. T’Soni?” She beckoned for the asari to help her.

Liara crouched next to her, then glared at the Prothean lingering nearby. “What did you do to her?” She demanded of him.

“Her mind is... tangled.” Javik replied.

“That’s not an answer!” Liara countered.

“I was communing with her Knowing,” he clarified with a frown.

“Oh, goddess...”

“It’s like after Feros, isn’t it?” The doctor confirmed, “Her cipher?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Liara as she studied the doctor’s readings.

“Will she be alright?” Garrus struggled to keep his voice from tightening with panic. Wasn’t there anything he could do to help? No wonder the doctor didn’t bother to page him...

“She will not die,” Javik explained as he took a step towards her, “She is simply-” 

“Garrus, keep him away from her!” Liara snapped.

Now that he could do. “Step back,” he ordered the Prothean as he moved to intercept him. It took all of his willpower not to act with violence. If you’ve hurt her, you’re not leaving this room alive, he promised him silently.

Javik scowled as Garrus approached him, and looked him over as if he were also expecting a physical confrontation. But, the Prothean complied, and moved to the opposite end of the cargo bay.

“Okay,” Liara spoke softly as she put a hand to Shepard’s temple. “You’ll be alright, Shepard, we’ve done this before.”

Garrus watched as the asari’s eyes darkened, and she melded with Shepard’s unconscious mind. Strange, he thought. It wasn’t so long ago when he might have objected to her intervention. After what had transpired between her and Shepard- after what she’d done- he wasn’t sure he could ever trust the asari again.

But, so much had happened since then. So much had changed... and as he watched the asari care for her now- as she implored Garrus to protect her from Javik- he knew without a doubt that Shepard was safe with her. He finally realized that they could- and should-  trust Liara T’Soni. She was an ally... and maybe even a friend.

The Prothean, on the other hand...

Shepard let out a soft moan as she finally regained consciousness, and he nearly keeled over with relief.

“Easy,” Chakwas urged her as they helped her sit up.

“Yeah,” Shepard muttered as she seemed to get her bearings. “I think I’m okay.”

“Thank the goddess,” Liara whispered.

“You see?” Javik grumbled, “She will live.”

Garrus had to quell another violent impulse in response to the Prothean’s callous apathy- but then Shepard started to cry.

He couldn’t stand by any longer, and rushed to her side. “Shepard,” he put a hand on her shoulder as he crouched beside her and tried to meet her gaze.

But she looked past him, fixing her tearful eyes on the Prothean. “Oh my god,” she rasped, “Javik, I- I didn’t know!”

“Didn’t know what?” Javik responded impatiently.

“I didn’t know you were in so much pain,” she sobbed as she clutched her hands to her heart.

Garrus turned toward the Prothean in confusion. He didn’t look like he was in pain; In fact, he appeared legitimately annoyed by Shepard’s distress.

“Your primitive mind is more fragile than I thought,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m so sorry,” Shepard sobbed again, ignoring his insult, “I swear, I didn’t know...”

“Are you in any pain, Commander?” Chakwas prompted her.

She shook her head as she attempted to steady her breathing. “No, I’m... I'm okay,” she said.

“Then why must you continue to weep?” The Prothean argued dourly.

Garrus experienced another flash of anger, and was about to give Javik a piece of his mind- but Liara beat him to it. “Why are you being so cruel?” She snapped at him.

“Because weakness should not be tolerated,” he answered with a scowl.

“Hey, I get that this is a whole new 'culture' for you,” Garrus added sharply, “But you are way out of line.”

Javik shook his head in annoyance. “Primitives,” He muttered under his breath.

‘Come on, Commander,” Chakwas bade her, “I want to get you to the medbay for a full diagnostic.”

“Shepard, are you sure you’re okay?” Garrus asked her as they helped her to her feet.

She sniffled. “Yeah, I’m good. I'm just gonna let the doc look me over.”

“I'm right behind you,” he assured her as Liara and Chakwas escorted her out.

Then he turned to the Prothean.

“So, turian,” Javik addressed him when they were alone. “Do you intend to seek vengeance for your commander, who still lives and breathes as we speak?”

Garrus didn't say anything at first, and simply glared at him in anger.

“I can sense your rage,” said Javik, “But you would not be able to kill me before I kill you.”

“Maybe,” Garrus granted him after a beat. “But if you hurt Shepard again, we'll be putting that to test.”

“I have no reason to harm her,” the Prothean replied, “But if you wish to fight to the death, we need not wait.”

Garrus scoffed. “Damn it, why are you like this?”

“What difference does it make what I am ‘like’?” Javik argued. “My people are gone, and the Reapers are still here. You should have left me in stasis; perhaps the next cycle would be better prepared.”

Garrus had no reply. In fact, he’d had quite enough of this conversation. 

He turned left the cargo bay without another word to check on Shepard in the medbay.

Chapter Text

Javik

Javik was no stranger to pain, or to suffering. Such inconveniences were the norm for any soldier in his time; the Reapers saw to that even before he was born.

But this... strange discomfort that continued to plague him was something new entirely. He was bewildered by the environment, and the bizarre ‘people’ who inhabited it.

At least the physics were the same in this cycle, to his relief; as was the chemistry, and the radioactive spectrum. But, their manifestations confused him. He felt like a child as he struggled to process his most basic sensory inputs.

He wondered for a moment if he should wash himself- perhaps he would benefit from a cleansing- but the notion of exposing his naked skin to the air of this cycle made him shudder. It was still too sharp; too stimulating. He was not ready to separate himself from his armor- one of the last relics of his own cycle. He needed more time to adapt to this environment.

However, in order for that to happen, he required rest; a proper sleep- not stasis- so that his nervous system may continue to acclimate subconsciously. But how was he supposed to rest with such an unquiet mind? With such an unquiet ship?

He frowned at a rhythmic, unrelenting pulse that had been vibrating through the bulkhead. It was intolerable, and he couldn’t tune it out. Did it not bother anyone else aboard? And where was it coming from?

He would need to leave his room to investigate.

He winced at the bright light when he stepped outside his door. The insolent noise continued to ‘thump’ from the room at the opposite end of the corridor. He pushed himself through the discomfort, scowling as he made his way down the hall. He touched the panel on the door when he arrived- and when it opened, he was accosted by the chaotic racket within.

He saw a human female standing at the far end of the room. She faced the wall, and appeared to be studying a collection of images and charts. She was mostly nondescript- except for the carcasses of strange, hairy animals she wore on her feet.

She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she moved her body to the beat of the strange pulse. It was almost as if she were… enjoying the sound?

Impossible!

“Stop this noise!” He finally ordered her.

She jumped, startled by his presence, and spun around.

Then she screamed.

Her piercing voice raked over his ears. “SILENCE!” He bellowed.

“EDI, music off! MUSIC OFF!” She shrieked.

“Agh," he grumbled with disapproval, “That was... music?”

“It helps me focus!" She exclaimed frantically. "But hold on- what the fuckety fucking fuck are YOU?”

He scoffed. “Did no one bother to mention you were sharing a deck with a Prothean?”

“A what? A Prothean?" Her eyes went wide with fear and wonder. "Nobody said anything to me about it!”

“You must not be very important,” he surmised. 

Her jaw dropped, as if she were offended by his logical observation.

“Keep the volume of your... ‘music’ lower,” he demanded.

“I... yeah, okay.” She cleared her throat and straightened her posture, though he could still perceive her trembling. “So, Mr. Prothean... Do you think that, er, I could maybe... get an interview?”

“No,” he replied curtly as he turned to leave.

“Well, I’ll be here if you change your mind!” She chirped quickly before the doors closed behind him.

He plunged his hands into the water basin when he returned to his room, and sighed as the coarse texture of the world was temporarily muted. Unfortunately, his mind was now more agitated than ever, and he began to worry that he might literally go mad. But, what were his options in this troublesome scenario? Wasn’t there anything to be done to quiet his senses? 

The cipher, he suddenly remembered. Perhaps the commander’s Knowing could help him find relief, as it had when he awoke from stasis. It wasn’t an ideal solution... but he could think of no alternatives.

He was loath to wander the ship again- so decided to summon her. He touched the wall panel he was instructed to activate if he needed anything. “I must speak with the commander,” he told the ship’s computer.

“Mmmnhhuh? H’llo?” The commander responded a moment later. Her voice creaked and drawled over the com; What was wrong with her?

“Come to the cargo bay,” he bade her. “I must speak with you.”

“Uhh, is it urgent?” She asked him.

He finally understood that he’d woken her from sleep. Unfortunate, but irrelevant. “Yes,” he replied.

“Okay,” she replied, “I'm coming down.”

When she arrived, he was suddenly plagued with second thoughts. How was he supposed to converse with this...  primitive? Would she assume weakness if he asked to commune with her knowing? Would she pity him?

Unacceptable!

He brushed off her attempt at pleasantries; a pitiful start already. And when she threatened to leave, he nearly let her. But... he reminded himself that if he didn’t follow through, he would risk madness. With great reluctance, he prompted her to stay; and, fortunately(?), she agreed.

They sat beside one another- a strangely intimate position that put him off even further. But when she offered him her hand... he was more grateful than he would ever admit to anyone- including himself.

When he pressed his fingertips to her skin, it took all of his willpower not to sigh with blissful relief. The jagged noise and caustic stimulation of their environment finally smoothed out. As he communed with her Knowing, he embraced the tempering effects. Yes, he realized. This is just what he needed- more time to absorb the context of this primitive’s perspective:

Sensory modalities: Limited (visual, auditory, tactile, olfactory, kinetic).

Glandular chemistry: Hyperactive.

Concept of time: Relative/Partitioned (minutes, hours, months, years).

And this ship... the Normandy...  was suddenly not so strange. It was her home.

“Commander,” he finally spoke aloud, “Why are you the only primitive with the Knowing?”

“The Knowing?” She echoed.

“The cipher,” he clarified.

“It’s... kind of a long story.”

“Tell me,” he bade her. He knew he would comprehend better if she spoke to her experience. “Remember it; Picture it with your mind; Let your emotions resurface, and I will understand.”

It worked, just as he’d hoped. As the commander told her story, his own Knowing connected with hers, and he further absorbed her context.

“How did you access the cipher from this... thorian?” He eventually prompted her.

“Through an asari,” she explained. “They’re telepathic. Saren convinced the thorian to impart the cipher to Shiala- one of his asari agents- who then imparted it to Saren himself. Later, she imparted it to me.”

“You were... impaired by the effects,” he stated in understanding.

“Yes,” she replied. “Liara helped me recover. Saren must have been helped the same way by Benezia.”

He’d briefly read this ‘Liara’ on Parunas Eden Prime, and he remembered detecting the framework for telepathy. As an asari, she was perhaps more advanced than the other primitives in this cycle- but, personally, she was also the most irritating. Liara hadn’t spoken much to him, but her overzealous fixation on him was blatant- and utterly pathetic. 

“And yet, you still seem baffled by your own Knowing,” he finally went on. 

“I’m not even conscious of it,” the commander admitted. “Most of the time I forget it’s even a thing.”

Perhaps it was no wonder she couldn’t make sense of it, he realized, if she required telepathic intervention to simply perceive her own Knowing. Javik could hardly imagine living with such cognitive limitations. “I understand,” he assured her graciously.

“Really? Because I barely understand it myself,” she confessed.

Could he teach her, he wondered? Might he enrich his own familiarity of this cycle, if she could commune with him? “You would understand better if you could read my Knowing for context,” he explained. “It should go both ways.”

“Should?”

“You are not Prothean," he said. "I do not know if you are able.”

“Well... how do I try?”

His hopeful notion deflated as he wondered where he would even start. “How does one explain sight to a creature with borrowed eyes?” He grumbled with annoyance.

She simply shrugged. Not that Javik expected an answer- his question was rhetorical.

“Concentrate,” he finally ventured as he searched for a port of connection, “Can you sense my presence in your mind?”

“I... whoa...” She muttered with awe.

He forced himself to open his own perspective to her, despite the fact that her unfamiliar consciousness seemed so invasive. It would be a mundane communication with another Prothean; but with this human, Javik felt eerily... vulnerable.  

He didn’t care for it, but he continued on.  “Push back,” he instructed her. “No, wait,” he corrected himself, “Not pushing...”  

“Wielding,” she offered.

Good, she was beginning to understand. “Yes,” he agreed. “Wield it.”

Finally, her Knowing linked with his...

Unfortunately, it proved to be far too much for her. Her mind suddenly became so tangled, she literally passed out.

“Bah,” he grunted in frustration as he caught her limp body, saving her from a hard fall to the ground. He tried to wake her as he gently put her down, but she would not respond. “Computer,” he reluctantly prompted the ship’s virtual administrator, “Is there a medical doctor on board?”

“I have paged Dr. Chakwas for assistance,” it replied. “She is on her way.”

Strange... did the computer anticipate the commander’s need, before he’d even asked? He may need to further investigate its capabilities at another time.

Soon after the human doctor arrived, Javik's space was also invaded by the asari and the turian. They met him with hostility- and while he could understand why, he certainly didn’t appreciate it. How could he have guessed that the commander’s primitive mind was so weak? How could he predict that she would react so pitifully from the mere exposure of his Knowing? 

Fortunately, she regained consciousness-  and was then escorted to the medbay by the doctor and the asari. The turian stayed behind to regale him with petulant threats. Javik responded with whatever he needed to say to get him to leave. 

When he was finally alone again, he was more frustrated and agitated than ever. This had been a terrible idea! He wholly regretted asking the commander to meet with him.

But then... at last... he realized he could finally quiet his own mind.

And within moments, he was able to will himself to sleep.

The next day, the commander returned to his quarters uninvited. She seemed fully recovered, and Javik felt an unexpected wave of relief at the sight of her. He was ashamed to realize that he might actually need her, if he was to endure this cycle.

He spoke first, hoping to avoid her inevitably awkward greeting. “I expected you would be at your summit with the other primitive leaders,” he said. Such nonsense, he thought silently; Wasting time on negotiations while the Reapers harvested their people. This cycle had so much to learn.

“They're scheduled to board in a few hours,” she replied.

“Hm,” he mused, “After our last interaction, I am surprised that you were allowed to speak to me alone.”

“Allowed?” She scoffed in offense. “I’m the commander of this ship.”

“The asari would have objected,” he went on, ignoring her naive indignation, “But of course, she would not argue with you. The turian, however...” He paused to stifle a pitying chuckle, “The turian would insist. He would not permit you to meet me alone. Therefore,” he surmised, “He must not know you are here.”

She stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes, as if she had no idea she was so easy to read.

“Have I misread you, Commander?” He prompted her impatiently.

“I mean... some of those things aren’t true,” she objected. “Garrus would honor my direct order, if I gave it.”

He waved off her nonsensical technicality. “His protective nature is... noisy,” he said. “Why do you tolerate such coddling?”

“He doesn’t ‘coddle’,” She argued sharply, “And he’s very important to me, so stop insulting him.”

He sighed, annoyed by her sensitive nature. “Very well,” he agreed grudgingly.

When she didn’t continue, it occurred to him that she was waiting for something. He realized that she was expecting an apology from him; some acknowledgement of what had happened the day before. 

But Javik felt no remorse, because he had done nothing wrong. More than anything, he pitied her. “It is fortunate that you have recovered,” he finally relented. He did his best to sound... amenable.

“Yeah,” she responded. “‘Fortunate’ is about right.”

There, that should be sufficient. “How did your asari know what to do?” He prompted her, ready to move on.

“I told you, her species is telepathic,” she reiterated.

“No- how did she know how to untangle the cipher? She does not have the Knowing.”

The commander shrugged. “I don’t know exactly,” she said. “It might have something to do with the fact that she’s spent her life studying Protheans- but honestly, you’ll have to ask her.”

He scoffed at the notion. “Nevermind. It is not important enough to... endure her.”

She shook her head and let out a bitter chuckle. “God, you’re so mean,” she said, “But I’m trying to remind myself that you’re in a crazy amount of pain.”

“It is not what you perceived,” he explained. “Your mind is very fragile. Consider, if I should run a blade over your skin, here,” he ran a finger over his plated forehead to demonstrate, “You would bleed. But I would not.” 

Despite his explanation, she seemed skeptical. “Do you feel it at all?” She asked, “It's just that, your hands...”

He instinctively flexed his fingers. “The discomfort can be... oppressive,” he admitted. “But it is not prohibitive. In time, my nervous system will acclimate.”

“I see.” 

“So, Commander,” he ventured carefully, “After all that has happened- What is to be done with me?”

“That depends,” she answered after a beat. “Will you help us fight the Reapers?”

“Fighting the Reapers is already my life’s purpose,” he reminded her.

“Good,” she said. “Then we could really use your help building the Crucible.”

“The weapon?” He confirmed.

“Yes.” 

He shook his head. “I was never involved with its design or construction; I would have nothing to offer.”

“Of course you do,” she countered. “You could save us a tremendous amount of time with translations. You’d give us invaluable context. You might be the key to the project’s success.”

“I will not be hidden away with primitive scientists,” he insisted. “I am a soldier.”

“But-”

“No,” he cut her off. He understood her point, but he could not allow her to send him away. “I will stay on the Normandy. I will assist with the Crucible from here.”

The commander nodded slowly. “Okay,” she agreed, “But that means you’ll need to work closely with Dr. T’Soni.”

He grimaced. Of course- he should have known. But, if Javik was to remain with Commander Shepard, then he had no other choice. “Then I suppose I will... endure,” he acquiesced.

It’s what Protheans do, he reminded himself staunchly. We endure; Against Reapers; Against pain...

And against the obnoxious presence of one naive, insufferable asari.

Chapter Text

Channel [REDACTED]

Confidential Audio Transcript

Who the hell is this?

An interested party. Assume you received intel?

I’m on the channel, aren’t I?

Good that you are willing to engage.

Who said anything about engaging? The only reason I’m here is to decide if you’re legit.

Understandable.

And if it turns out you’re not, you should know I prefer my salarian liver served raw.

Also understandable.

So talk. Give me one good reason why I should believe some random scientist claiming to have fertile krogan females.

Not so random. We have met before.

Refresh my memory, why don’t you.

We have a mutual friend in Commander Shepard.

Wait a minute- you’re the one she brought to Tuchanka?

Correct.

Prove it.

Arrival at Urdnot camp coincided with Grunt’s rite of passage. Thresher maw was defeated for the first time since your own rite, if I’m not mistaken.

Hmm, not exactly common knowledge, but not exactly secret, either.

Our cooperation will require trust from both parties.

Well, I don’t trust salarians. They have minds like a maze. You never know when they’re leading you into a trap.

Should be risk worth taking, to save the females.

Okay then. As a show of good faith, tell me where they are.

Unfortunately, I cannot.

Wrong answer.

Consequences would be... problematic.

They’ll be pretty fucking problematic if you don’t tell me.

For myself, perhaps, but my concern is for the females. They’re in poor health. Even if they survived a forceful extraction, they would only be endangered further by the resulting war between our people.

How convenient.

Nothing about this proposition is convenient.

Then why the hell are you doing this at all?

If not for Maelon's work, the females would still be on Tuchanka; would never have suffered the painful side effects of his experiments. 

But they wouldn’t be fertile either, would they.

Beside the point. Maelon was my student- my responsibility to make it right.

So what exactly is this proposition you’re suggesting?

Will continue my work to treat the females, and initiate political pressure to release them to Tuchanka. When they are stable enough to transport, we will need to act quickly. Must already have plans in place.

Well, you’d better hurry and get them stable, because I’m not going to wait forever.

Working as quickly as possible. Will send you codes for a new channel for each future update- our discussions must remain confidential from all other parties. Must end call for now.

Wait-

Hm?

I, uh... forgot your name.

Dr. Mordin Solus, at your service.

Right. Remember, Mordin: If you cross me, you-

Will be short a liver. Yes, yes, I remember.

Good.

Channel [REDACTED]

Confidential Audio Transcript

Your timing is shit. You’d better have a hell of an update for me.

Listen closely- do not have much time. Reaper invasion has altered situation.

That’s an understatement.

You’ve been invited to an intergalactic war summit. You must attend.

Why would I waste my time on that bullshit? 

Because the galaxy needs the krogan, and the krogan need leverage.

Leverage for what?

A cure for the genophage.

Impossible.

Incorrect. Have resolved errors in Maelon’s research. Cure is within reach.

You think those pyjaks in the salarian government will let that happen?

They will have no choice. Krogan alliance will depend on release of females. You must negotiate these terms at the summit. I will continue to treat the females and ensure their safety

Shit. You’re really ‘all in’ on this, aren’t you?

Yes. Few salarian scientists interested in genophage. None with my expertise. Has to be me. 

I still can’t wrap my head around why, though.

Because someone else might get it wrong.

A damn shame. I was looking forward to fresh salarian liver.

Will be in touch. Over and out.

Chapter Text

I took a chance to join the Normandy on the hunt for Saren. Rival Spectres; Geth conspiracy; multi-species collaboration; I hadn’t seen that kind of action in over a hundred years. Couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that.

Things got pretty tense on Virmire. Turns out, Saren developed a cure for the genophage. It changed everything. I started to have second thoughts about the whole damn thing. Was I really gonna help blow up the facility that developed a cure? I had no idea it was even possible.

But I took another chance on Shepard. And I’m glad I did. Because she showed me that anything was possible.

-Chief Urdnot Wrex

Shepard

“Wrex is a friend,” she assured Councilor Udina over the quantum vid com, “And he's probably the most diplomatic krogan I've ever met. He'll speak for Tuchanka in good faith, I’m sure of it.”

“An advantage, to be sure,” the councilor granted her, “But, will the rest of the krogan fall in line when decisions are made?”

“Well, that was part of the agreement,” she reminded him, despite her own reservations about the exact same thing. “We're authorized to negotiate on behalf of our homeworlds, unilaterally.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right, and I almost forgot that includes you.”

“Hey,” she protested, “I'm doing pretty good with the hand I've been dealt, here. You said so yourself in your last message.”

Udina sighed. “I suppose you do get results, for better or worse.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, swatting away the suspicion that she might have just been insulted. “Anyway, we’ll be starting soon. Everyone’s on board, and I’d say the overall vibe is good.”

“Just ‘good’?”

“Yeah, and with the Reapers killing millions as we speak, I think ‘good’ is a miracle.”

Udina rolled his eyes again. “I still can't believe you managed to salvage the situation after you and Vakarian-”

“Upupup!” She quickly cut him off with a snap of her fingers. “We agreed never to bring that up again!” 

“It's one of my least favorite subjects, Commander,” he said, “But we agreed to no such thing.”

“Well, it worked out fine in the end... mostly,” she reminded him. “It broke the ice, anyway.”

“I can think of about a hundred other icebreakers that would have been more appropriate and effective.”

Shepard huffed. “My point is that I'm on good terms with Wrex and Victus. We’re starting from a good place.”

“I hope it's enough,” Udina granted her. “Dalatrass Linron is notoriously difficult to please. I honestly can't predict how she'll respond to your... interpersonal style.”

It was Shepard’s turn to roll her eyes. “She’ll come around,” she said. “No one can resist the ol’ ‘Shepard charm’ for long.”

“Joking aside, you need to accommodate her. We need the salarians on this Crucible project yesterday,” the councilor insisted.

“I know,” she said.

“Earth is counting on you to rise to the occasion, Commander.”

“I know,” she said again, embracing the swell of confidence she’d been deliberately curating all damn day. “Don’t worry, Councilor,” she assured him, “I’ve got this."

Unfortunately, once the summit was in full swing... Shepard realized she was completely full of shit. 

As the leaders gathered in the conference room, Shepard could swear the vibe suddenly went from ‘good’ to ‘tense’. But, she supposed that should be expected.

Then it went from ‘tense’ to ‘heated’ as soon as Wrex brought up the females.

“Wrex, why didn’t you show us this intel before the summit?” Shepard demanded. She was legitimately shocked; This kind of sneaky, behind-the-scenes intrigue wasn’t like Wrex at all!

“I wasn't about to give the salarians a chance to move them- or worse,” Wrex explained. “I know where they are right now, and we’re going to get them before moving forward with negotiations.”

“Out of the question!” Dalatrass Linron exclaimed with indignation. “I should have known the krogan would open with outrageous demands!”

Primarch Victus cleared his throat. “Is it so ‘outrageous’ to release a handful of female krogan in exchange for Tuchanka's aid in the war?” He challenged her coolly. “Why are you so opposed to the proposition?”

The Dalatrass hesitated as her expression darkened.

“Because she knows what we plan to do,” Wrex offered.

“Wrex,” Shepard prompted him tentatively, “What are you planning to do?”

He gave Shepard a smug, knowing smirk. “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “We’re going to cure the genophage.”

And that's when the vibe went completely off the rails.

“That is not going to happen!” The Dalatrass shouted. “It’s off the table!”

“Then it’s all off the table,” Wrex countered angrily, “Because the krogan aren’t going anywhere unless we get the cure!”

“Damn it, Wrex, that will take years,” Victus argued. “We don’t have that kind of time!”

“Not years,” Wrex corrected him, “I’m told that a cure can be ready in a matter of weeks.”

“Impossible,” Linron hissed.

“Wrex, even if that’s true,” Shepard chimed in, “Palaven can’t wait that long, and neither can Earth! Do you understand what you’re asking of us, here?”

The krogan’s eyes narrowed with ire. “What I’m asking of you?”

Victus tried to explain further. “The intergalactic consequences would be-”

“Fuck intergalactic consequences!” Wrex cut him off, still looking at Shepard. “I can’t believe you still don’t get it,” he said to her. “I thought you of all people would understand!”

“Understand what, Wrex?” She implored him.

“That the krogan are doomed!” He bellowed.

His statement was met with an uneasy silence, save for the vibrating echo of his outburst through the room.

“This is the krogan’s last stand, Shepard,” he continued. “Even if you can finish this Prothean weapon, my people won’t recover from the casualties. We’re fucked. And you want us to abandon our homeworld, so we can fight to the death on Palaven- for the fucking turians!”

Damn, when he put it like that... “I- it’s-” Shepard sputtered awkwardly.

“You didn’t think about that, did you?” He called her out. “Or about the logistics, I bet! We don’t have a fleet, Shepard- you’ll need to transport all those krogan infantry by the shipload. Oh, and they’ll have to be sedated, by the way, if you want them to survive the trip. And what are they gonna eat when they get to Palaven, huh? Turians? Reapers? I have a lot of influence on Tuchanka, but not that much influence. The krogan won’t agree to any of this. Unless...”

“Unless... there’s a cure for the genophage,” Victus finished for him.

“If you can get us that,” Wrex assured him, “Then we’ll be lining up to fight anywhere. The Reapers will be the only things left standing in the way of our future.”

“A future of brutal krogan supremacy, no doubt!” The Dalatrass spat. “The galaxy might survive the Reapers, only to be invaded by a bloodthirsty enemy who can’t control their urges!”

Shepard froze as Urdnot Wrex leaned over the conference table with a murderous scowl- a look that could only signal an incoming bloodrage. The Dalatrass might have just insulted him for the last time.

Which meant that Shepard and Victus were about to become collateral damage.

Very bloody, very pulpy collateral damage!

“Dalatrass,” The primarch ventured carefully, “You may not like him, but Wrex makes a good point. Insulting him won’t change that.”

To everyone’s relief, the Dalatrass didn’t continue her tirade, and the krogan's posture relaxed. “Shepard,” Wrex turned to her again, “You promised me on Virmire that there would be another way.”

“Yeah,” she granted him after a beat. “I know I did.”

“Well, this is it,” he said. “This is the other way.”

Shepard didn’t know what to say. She agreed with Wrex on a personal level- on a moral level, even. But... was it worth the risk of antagonizing the salarians? Without the help of Sur’Kesh’s scientists, they might never finish the Crucible- and then it wouldn’t matter where the krogan fought, or how fiercely. They would ultimately lose the war.

Damn it, what was play, here?

“So... you'll defend Palaven if the genophage is cured?” Victus confirmed.

“That's right,” Wrex replied. “When the genophage is cured, you’ll have the might of the krogan at your side. The strongest fighters in the galaxy will leave their homeworld behind to fight for the very race who put the boot to our necks!”

Linron scoffed, and Shepard shot her a look of warning. So far, it seemed that intimidation was the only thing the Dalatrass responded to.

“Palaven agrees to your terms,” Victus finally said.

Shepard’s breath caught in her chest. The Primarch sounded so certain; so sure.

“You fools,” the Dalatrass hissed before storming out of the conference room. “You’re damning us all!”

We’re already damned, Shepard thought to herself morosely. At this point, it was just a matter how soon, and how much.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Udina exclaimed.

“It's the right call, Councilor,” Shepard reiterated. “Even the Primarch agreed.”

“And now the salarians are pulling their support for the Crucible!” He admonished her.

“But the krogan-”

“Tell me, Shepard,” he cut her off sharply. “When the war is over, and precious few civilizations are left; do you really want one of them to be a united nation of fertile krogan?”

Shepard knew how it sounded; but she also knew it was the right thing to do. “With the right leadership,” she insisted, “We can find a way to keep the peace. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you think.”

“That ‘maybe’ is doing some very heavy lifting,” he argued. “We have to look at the big picture; we should be focusing our efforts on the Crucible, not a cure for the genophage!”

“We can do both!” She insisted. “Our whole strategy in this war is based on multitasking.”

He shook his head. “Mark my words, Shepard- you’re making a big mistake.”

“None of our options are ideal,” she argued bitterly. “So they’re all gonna feel like mistakes- but we have to do something, and we have to follow through.”

“This isn’t the way,” he maintained staunchly.

“It’ll have to be, Councilor,” she said, “Because this is what’s happening.”

Udina scowled in disapproval, and ended the call without another word. 

Shepard let out a long breath. This was the first time she and the councilor had truly been at odds since the war started. A shame- because when they were on the same page, they were pretty damn effective.

And now she was torn. On the one hand, she knew her cause was noble, and was pleased with herself for standing her ground and keeping her cool.

But... on the other hand...

What if Udina was right?

Chapter Text

James

“Yo!” James grinned as he spotted Specialist Traynor and Engineer Adams across the mess. He waved them over to the table he was sharing with Joker and Cortez. They were hanging out while the people in charge held their summit on the deck above. James was relieved he didn’t have to get involved with that high level diplomatic shit- plus, socializing was always his favorite kind of distraction. The more, the merrier!

“So, how's it coming along?” Traynor asked as she and Adams sat down.

“It’s... a work in progress,” Cortez answered for them.

“We’re close,” said Joker. “I’m telling you, it’s almost perfect.”

“Well then, let’s hear it!” Adams urged them.

“Go ahead, Vega,” Joker prompted him graciously, “From the top!”

James chuckled and cleared his throat. “Okay, okay, here goes! So: A turian, a human, and a krogan walk into a bar-”

“No no no,” Joker cut him off, “We decided it should be a turian, a krogan, and a salarian .”

James winced. “I dunno, I think that might make it... offensive.”

“It makes it funny,” Joker insisted. “And besides, all the best jokes are a little offensive.”

“Being offensive isn't what makes a joke funny,” Adams pointed out.

“Maybe you should make one of them a Prothean?” Traynor suggested.

“But then it won’t make any sense at all,” Joker argued. “We’re gonna need another perspective.” 

“I would be happy to help,” EDI chimed in over the com. “I can analyze the content and structure of your joke, and offer relevant suggestions.” 

“No, no, no,” Joker said again, “We’re dealing with advanced humor here, EDI. You’re not ready for this yet.”

“Hey, EDI,” Traynor piped up, “Where’s your body, anyway? Er, I mean, your mobile platform?”

“It is on the bridge, where I am conversing with Dr. T’Soni,” answered the AI.

“So, you’re having two conversations at once?” James asked.

“I am currently participating in five separate verbal exchanges throughout the ship,” she corrected him.

“That’s so weird,” said Traynor. “I mean, it makes sense- but it’s so weird!”

“Oh, hey there's that reporter,” said Joker as he pointed her out. She must have stopped by the kitchen for a bite to eat. “Let’s run it by her. What's her name, again?”

“Diana Allers,” said Traynor. “But be nice! She’s a civilian.”

“I’m always nice!” The pilot insisted as he waved her over.

The reporter’s eyes widened with surprise when she noticed him trying to get her attention. She looked behind her- then back to their table- and pointed to herself in confusion.

“Yeah, you!” Joker assured her.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked tentatively as she approached their table.

“We need an opinion,” said Cortez.

She let out an awkward chuckle. “Cool, I've got plenty of those.”

“But, hold on,” said Joker, “You're not gonna like, publish the shit we talk about, right?” 

She shrugged. “Unless it's more interesting than the war, I doubt it.”

Engineer Adams sighed and shook his head. “If I was a viewer, I think I’d need a break from the war.”

Allers gave an exaggerated frown. “Aww... you’re not a viewer?”

“Er, I just-” Adams sputtered, “I... don’t have that kinda time...?”

The reporter smirked, showing off a surprise set of dimples in her round cheeks. “I get it,” she said, “You’ve all got front row seats to the action. Why would you want to watch the watered-down version afterward?”

“‘Watered-down’?” James echoed. “I figured you’d be like, sensationalizing stuff.”

“Sometimes, yeah,” she said, “But, this is different.” She traced two circles in the air with her fingers. “There’s a venn diagram of what people want to hear, and what people need to hear- and for this war, it’s just a teeny, tiny little sliver.” She pinched her fingers together to demonstrate. "I've gotta walk a narrow line."

“Wait, a venn diagram?” Joker repeated incredulously. “Holy shit, Allers- are you... a nerd?”

She smirked again. “I mean, if you’re not gonna nerd out on a job you love, then what are you even doing?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Cortez agreed. “Hey, I like this girl!”

“So, I have to ask,” mused Traynor as she leaned her elbows on the table, “Do all war reporters look so... um, feminine?”

Allers nodded. “They do if they want to attract an asari audience,” she said. “Plus, the salarians like higher-pitched voices. We have focus groups for this stuff. This whole get-up,” she gestured down to her form-fitting dress and high heels, “Is one hundred percent curated for maximum engagement.”

“Oh, so this isn’t your usual style?” Asked Cortez.

“Nope," she said. "I just finished a broadcast in Starboard Observation. My usual style is just PJs and buns.”

James laughed out loud. “Buns?”

“Er, bunny slippers,” she clarified sheepishly. “As long as I've got my music, my work, and my buns, I'm a happy gal.”

“Anyway,” Joker piped up, “Let’s get back to business!”

“Right!” James agreed. “So, we're making a multicultural joke, inspired by our multicultural summit.”

“Oooh, spicy!” She said eagerly. “Let’s hear it!”

James cleared his throat again. “Okay, so, a turian, a human, and a krogan walk into a bar-”

“No,” Joker interrupted him again. “A turian, a krogan, and a salarian walk into a bar!”

“You can tell your version next!” James reminded him.

“But your version is gonna taint the punchline!” Joker argued.

“Lieutenant Vega,” came Shepard’s sudden voice over his com.

The group of them froze in expectation. “Ma’am?” James replied.

“Drop what you’re doing and suit up,” she said. “We’re going planetside. We disembark in fifteen minutes.”

Damn, that wasn’t a lot of time to prep! “Aye aye,” he acknowledged her as he stood up. Then he looked at his tablemates and shrugged. “Sorry, folks- duty calls. We'll have to pick this up again later!”

“Saved by the com!” Joker drawled after him as he made his way to the lift.

By the time they got back to the Normandy, James’ mood had dropped considerably. Shit had gotten pretty fucking dicey down on Sur’Kesh, and now they had a whole new set of people and problems to deal with.

He quickly made his way to the starboard lounge to fetch the reporter. He felt kind of bad- they’d only just moved her there, but now they had to put her back in the cargo bay. “Sorry, Dimples,” he said when she let him in, “But I'm here to kick you out. You’re moving back to starboard cargo."

“But, I just got settled in,” she protested, “And I'm about to do an interview with Commander Shepard!”

“Nope, change of plans,” he said. "Interview’s definitely cancelled. And we need the room for a VIP.”

“So I gotta move back to the deck with the Prothean?” She confirmed ruefully.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

She sighed. “Okay, well, let me get my stuff together.” 

“I'll help,” he insisted, reaching for a bag. “Come on, vamos.”

“Be careful, this is expensive equipment!”

He rolled his eyes, but tried to respect her request as he urged them to hustle. “Wait, don't tie up the lift,” he warned her as they made their way across the deck. “We'll go to the mess for now.” 

Traynor, Cortez, Adams, and Moreau were there again, just like this morning. But now, they were standing rather than seated. And, instead of laughing it up, everyone looked uneasy.

“Are they bringing her to the medbay first?” Traynor inquired somberly.

“Yeah,” James confirmed. 

“Bringing who?” Allers asked.

“A krogan female,” James replied. “She’s the only one that survived some kind of genophage experiment.”

“They're calling her the 'last hope for the krogan',” Cortez added.

Allers tilted her head thoughtfully. “Wow, that's... kind of beautiful,” she muttered.

“What, like for a headline?” Joker smirked.

She frowned. “I don't think of everything in terms of headlines, you know.”

“I’m just saying-”

“Yeah,” she granted him, “It would probably make a beautiful, heart-wrenching headline.”

“I’ve never seen a female krogan before,” said Traynor. “What does she look like?”

“She’s... big,” James answered after a beat.

“We probably could have guessed that,” said Adams.

“Well, sure,” James shrugged, “It’s just that- she’s covered up from head to toe.”

“Like... in a blanket?” Joker asked.

Cortez sighed. “No, Joker,” he said. “Not in a blanket.”

“Do you think krogan woman are made to dress that way?” Wondered Adams.

James shrugged. “I didn’t ask- but I doubt you could make this gal do anything she didn’t want to do.”

They all turned at the sound of the lift doors opening, and Wrex’s booming voice suddenly echoed through the corridor. 

“The lift is too small!” The krogan griped loudly as he rounded the bulkhead. 

Garrus Vakarian appeared behind him. “It's designed for humans,” the turian reminded him patiently.

“It's even more cramped in there than the old Normandy!” Wrex pointed out. “Can't even fit two krogan in the car; Some hospitality you’ve got here!”

“Wrex,” Vakarian replied, “You're fussing.”

“This is serious, Garrus!” the krogan chief exclaimed. “If she gets hurt, I'll feel it, understand?”

“Mordin knows what he's doing,” the turian assured him. “She's in good hands.”

“Maybe. But I'm still keeping my eye on him.”

As James recalled, Wrex had been all hot air and bravado down on Sur'kesh, flinging threats and insults left and right at the STG agents who ran the research facility. But, ever since they rescued the female, all Wrex seemed to do was complain. Garrus was right, James realized with a silent chuckle; the krogan war chief was being fussy.  

The lift doors opened again, and Shepard soon appeared with the salarian professor and the krogan female. Their pace was slow, and their steps were careful. No doubt to accommodate the female’s failing health. 

“Easy!” Wrex insisted as he moved to her side.

“I'm fine,” she said in a low voice. She sounded exhausted- and annoyed.

Then Wrex finally noticed James and his little group lingering in the mess. “Hey, what's with the audience?” He gestured toward them aggressively. “No one ever teach you not to stare at a female?”

“Wrex,” she sighed with exasperation, “They’re not krogan.”

“Sorry,” Engineer Adams apologized, “We mean no disrespect.”

Their exchange was interrupted as the Normandy's doctor stepped out onto the deck.

“Ah,” said Mordin Solus, “Good to see you, Dr. Chakwas.”

“Likewise, Dr. Solus,” she said warmly. Then she turned to address the female. “Please, come in, we've been expecting you.”

James looked on with mild amusement as a krogan, a human, and a salarian walked into the medbay. Heh, was there a joke in there somewhere, he wondered? He’d have to remember this later when it was time to lighten the mood again.

“Wrex, you need to stay out of their way,” Shepard told him as the medbay doors closed. “Give them some space.”

Wrex simply grumbled in response.

“Come on,” said Garrus. “Let's make sure the room is ready for her.”

Then a turian, a human, and a krogan walked into the starboard lounge. Hmmm...

James and his group all stood in tense, awkward silence for a moment. What now?

“Aw hell!” Wrex suddenly bellowed down the corridor, “Pyjaks! You got fucking PYJAKS!!!”

The krogan’s outburst was followed by gunfire. “Get down!” James ordered the others instinctively. What the fuck was going on? Was Wrex shooting up the ship??

“Owww, fuck!” Joker hissed as Cortez pulled him to the ground. Poor guy probably just broke something!

“Damn it, Wrex!” they heard Shepard exclaim, “Those weren't fucking pyjaks!”

James and the others looked at each other in confusion as they slowly helped each other up. Pyjaks? Why did Wrex think there were-

“Oh, NO!” Allers shrieked as she jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with panic, “MY BUNS!!!”

Chapter Text

Javik

Perhaps more than anything else, Javik struggled to acclimate his perception of time to this cycle. How long had he been awake from stasis, he wondered? Two days? Three? More?  

He could still hardly believe it; Fifty thousand years... gone in an instant. And yet, how could his old life already be fading to memory- as if it had all been a dream- when it also felt like he'd only just been there?

The asari came down to his quarters in the evening. Or, perhaps it was the morning. He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter.

“Good afternoon,” she said when he opened the door.

Somewhere in between, then. “Good... afternoon,” he echoed awkwardly.

“May I come in?”

“If you must.”

“I... alright.” She hesitated before stepping inside. The last time Javik had seen the asari- when she'd come to the aid of her commander- she’d been surprisingly confrontational. He'd argued with her in the moment, but he'd approved of her approach. In general, Javik respected conflict over deference. Such a shame that she seemed to have become meek once more; however, he resisted the instinct to scold her for it. She was not his responsibility.

“I would have come by earlier,” she explained, “But there’s been so much going on with the summit.”

“Hmm,” he replied dismissively. He had no interest in the summit, and did not wish to involve himself with such things.

“I appreciate your willingness to work with me on this,” she went on.

“I am obligated to fight the Reapers on all possible fronts,” he replied. Which was true, of course- but he would never admit that the primary reason for his cooperation was to stay on board the Normandy. He needed to stay close to Commander Shepard.

“Of course,” she replied.

“What is this?” He gestured to the stack of data pads she clutched in her hands.

“I'm hoping you can help me with some translations,” she said as she held them out expectantly. 

He accepted one from the top. 

“Before we start with the Crucible,” she began, “I wanted to make sure I’ve gotten the basics right. So, I've prepared an overview of my analysis on the Prothean language. I...” She cleared her throat, “I've included my dissertation in the appendix, if you want to know how I arrived at my conclusions.”

Javik touched the screen with his fingertips, but he could feel nothing beyond its smooth surface. “This is just text,” he muttered in confusion.

“That’s right,” she said.

“You expect me to read it?”

“Well... yes?”

He scoffed. “This will take..." Hours? He wondered, Days?? "Far too long!”

“I- I don’t understand,” she sputtered.

“Are there no species in this cycle with tactile memory?” He asked her pointedly. “No technology to communicate meaning through touch?”

She shook her head. “None that I know of," she said. "Not to the extent you’re implying.”

Incredible. “No wonder the races in this cycle are so behind,” he realized. “Such limitations must have hindered your evolution.”

The asari pursed her lips and averted her eyes. “The Reapers certainly consider us advanced enough to harvest,” she countered.

He frowned at her response. He was simply stating a fact, not personally insulting her.

Then she let out a bitter chuckle. “You know... you are nothing like I expected.”

“I can only be what I am,” he reminded her, “And I know nothing of your assumptions.” 

“I just mean- well, for example, you don’t seem very sorry for what happened with Commander Shepard.”

This again? “And what should I feel sorry for?”

“You were careless,” she insisted, “And she was hurt.”

He scoffed; It was the commander who'd wanted to wield her own Knowing- he was merely teaching her how! “I was careless?”

“You really don't see it that way?”

He nearly hissed a sharp response- but paused when he suddenly realized what was happening. He didn’t even need to touch this asari to detect the adrenaline coursing through her veins; it flooded the air around her like a halo. Javik didn't understand why- but for some reason, she was terrified to argue with him. And yet, her demeanor was stoic. If he was merely to look at her, he would see her as calm, patient, and perfectly in control.  

Which meant... whether he understood her fear or not... she was brave.

And that was something he could respect. “She must have known there would be a risk,” he finally replied. But... “But, perhaps I could have been more... careful,” he admitted with more grace than either of them expected.

She nodded as her expression softened. “I’m just glad EDI thought to page the doctor.”

He was reminded again of the computer’s initiative. “Your computer- this EDI- is it programmed to detect and respond to biological incidents?”

The asari’s eyes suddenly widened with apprehension. “Well, she’s actually... much more than just a computer...” She sighed and hung her head. “Oh, goddess, I really didn’t want to be the one to have this conversation with you!”

“Dr. T’Soni,” the computer spoke, “If you prefer, I can provide Javik with an explanation of my origin and capabilities.”

“It speaks out of turn?” He asked incredulously.

“I'd appreciate that, EDI,” she said.

“I was initially installed on the Normandy as an Electronic Defense Intelligence,” it explained. “However, due to a series of improbable circumstances, I have since been unshackled from my programming limitations. I now operate voluntarily under Shepard’s command.”

He felt a hot rush of anger and fear course through him. “No,” He rasped in disbelief, “No, it cannot be!”

“It’s alright, we can trust her,” the asari assured him.

“Primitive fools!” He snapped as he began to aggressively pace the room. “You’ve given it control over the very air we breathe!”

“Please refrain from violence,” said EDI.

Javik nearly laughed out loud at the irony of it all. “The Reapers never needed to come at all in this cycle,” he announced bitterly. “The synthetics have already won!”

The asari huffed. “Goddess, that's a stretch.”

“Your naivete is astounding,” he shot back.

“Look, I- I can't debate this with you,” she insisted. “Is EDI’s existence going to be a deal breaker? If so, I see no reason to waste each other's time. I'm sure the commander will understand if this doesn't work out.”

He stopped in his tracks, and forced himself to take a deep, centering breath. Do not lose your head, he urged himself. What were his options? It seemed like he had fewer than ever. In fact, for now, he could only see the one:

He must endure.

“Do not expect me to speak to it,” he finally said of the AI.

“Fine,” the asari agreed. “Can we get to work?”

He shook his head. “You may come back later.”

She hesitated before responding. “But-”

“I will read your... dissertation,” he promised her. “But I wish to be alone.”

She heeded his request, which he was glad for. But Javik knew he still wasn't alone- not with the AI that had been here all along. Which meant, Javik realized, that as long as he stayed on the Normandy, he would never be truly alone. The notion was... bewildering.

It was abhorrent.

And yet...

Why, then, did some confounding part of him also feel so... relieved?

Chapter Text

War Room, Normandy SR2, Audio Transcript

CLASSIFIED / CONFIDENTIAL

RE: PROJECT GENESIS 

[VICTUS]: So, I hear the Normandy is free of a pyjak infestation?

[URDNOT]: Sure is, and it will be as long as I’m on board.

[SHEPARD]: Yes, thank you, Wrex, for your... diligence. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.

[URDNOT]: Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. So, are we gonna talk business or what? Where’s the salarian?

[SHEPARD]: Mordin’s on his way. We can start without him, EDI’s transcribing the meeting.

[VICTUS]: Do you have any updates on Cerberus, Commander? I understand they tried to disrupt your mission on Sur’Kesh.

[URDNOT]: Right, what the hell was that all about? Do you think they were there for the female?

[SHEPARD]: I don’t know. They seem to be everywhere lately.

[VICTUS]: Could they be tracking the Normandy somehow? Monitoring our movements?

[SHEPARD]: EDI is confident that isn’t the case, but... these days, it feels like anything is possible- and not in a good way.

[URDNOT]: I don’t like this, Shepard.

[SHEPARD]: I know, Wrex. It feels like we’re running around in the dark.

[URDNOT]: Heh, just like the old days.

[SOLUS]: Greetings. Apologize for tardiness.

[SHEPARD]: Thanks for coming, Mordin. Primarch, this is Dr. Mordin Solus. Mordin, this is Primarch Adrien Victus.

[VICTUS]: Good to finally meet you, Dr. Solus.

[SOLUS]: Likewise, Primarch.

[URDNOT]: How’s the female?

[SOLUS]: Stable, for now. Sedated. Resting.

[URDNOT]: Will she live?

[SOLUS]: That is essentially what is meant by ‘stable’.

[SHEPARD]: So, what's her name, anyway?

[URDNOT]: She's a shaman, she doesn't use a name. You can just call her ‘the female.’

[SHEPARD]: If that’s what she wants, then okay, but that’s pretty disrespectful in human culture.

[VICTUS]: I’m sure she can tell us what she prefers when she’s awake. 

[SOLUS]: Perhaps... Eve.

[SHEPARD]: Eve?

[SOLUS]: Human ship, human religious mythology parallel; Appropriate.

[SHEPARD]: Okay... for now, let's call her Eve.

[VICTUS]: So what happens now? Can you synthesize the cure?

[SOLUS]: Yes, but patient’s health complications... problematic.

[URDNOT]: Gonna need you to be more specific.

[SOLUS]: Autoimmune responses disrupted; hormone levels inconsistent; results of Maelon’s experiments. Have developed counteragent- however, procedure will continue to strain patient’s health, especially if multiple attempts are required. Survival unlikely without genetic stabilization therapy.

[SHEPARD]: Then you should start that right away, yeah?

[SOLUS]: Would be experimental in this situation. Need to consult with another specialist.

[URDNOT]: I thought you were the big shot ‘genetic specialist’ around here.

[SOLUS]: Of course, but field complex; many facets. Maelon’s work informed by multiple disciplines, modalities- even different xenobiologies. Had in fact discovered correlation between genetic mutations of genophage and Keprals syndrome. Equations were adapted to krogan biology, and eventually led to successful results. Genius, really. Would be proud of his work in other circumstances.

[VICTUS]: Keprals? That affects drell, yes?

[SOLUS]: Correct.

[SHEPARD]: So, who exactly are you needing to consult with? Do you have someone in mind?

[SOLUS]: Yes. A hanar scientist; leading expert on Keprals syndrome; has extensive background in genetic stabilization research: Dr. Zenynder.

[URDNOT]: And where do we find this ‘Zenynder?’

[SOLUS]: Huerta Memorial Hospital. Research wing. Have confirmed that he is still tenured.

[SHEPARD] Then that’s where we’re going next. Joker, set a course for the Citadel- maximum burn.

Chapter Text

Collected Messages

R. Shepard <—> K. Alenko

SHEPARD: Hey Kaidan, heard you were back in action!

ALENKO: If by ‘action,’ you mean getting in and out of bed, then you heard right. I can even go to the bathroom by myself.

SHEPARD: I'm so proud of you!

ALENKO: Knew you would be.

SHEPARD: You ready for visitors? We’re docking in a few days.

ALENKO: Hell yeah. Especially if those visitors are open to breaking me out of here.

SHEPARD: I'm sure we can accommodate a little lawlessness during these trying times.

ALENKO: Heh. ‘Lawlessness’ looks weird when it's spelled out.

SHEPARD: Ha, it does actually! LAWLESSNESS.

ALENKO: There's so many Ss.

SHEPARD: It doesn’t even look like a real word now.

ALENKO: You mean you didn’t make it up?

SHEPARD: I don't think so, but now I'm having doubts! How the heck did we get on this subject again?

ALENKO: Shepard, I don't think I can overstate how BORED I am here. I'm losing my mind stuck in this hospital room.

SHEPARD: Well, we can talk about whatever you want!

ALENKO: Okay, I've got a good one: What do you call it when you're at an Earth barbecue, but someone forgot to bring all the sides and fixings?

SHEPARD: ???

ALENKO: Slawlessness.

SHEPARD: Kaidan Bartleby Alenko, did that head injury make you goofy?

ALENKO: Wait, I'm sorry- Bartleby???

SHEPARD: Haha, I take it that's not your middle name? I just guessed.

ALENKO: It's Barrett!

SHEPARD: Hey, I was actually pretty close!

ALENKO: I'm starting to think you didn't even look at my file on the SR1!

SHEPARD: I didn't spend a lot of time reading my officers’ files unless they were causing problems- and you were a model soldier!

ALENKO: Heh, so who's file have you read the most? Wait, let me guess... Joker?

SHEPARD: At this point I can spell 'Vrolik’s' without even having to look it up

ALENKO: The Normandy sure wouldn't be the same without him, though.

SHEPARD: Ok but seriously, Kaidan- real talk- how are you doing?

ALENKO: Eh. I’ve been better, but I'm on the mend. I actually look a lot worse than I feel. My face is still pretty messed up.

SHEPARD: I’m sure you’re as handsome as ever. Plus, scars are badass.

ALENKO: Hey, speaking of which- I heard Garrus joined up?

SHEPARD: Wow, scuttlebutt made it all the way to the Citadel?

ALENKO: I have my sources. Plus, you are in a WAY better mood than when we last talked, so I probably could have guessed!

SHEPARD: Whoa, hold on. My Shepard-sense is tingling...

ALENKO: Uh, your what?

SHEPARD: You're right- I am in a better mood- but so are you! You’re uncharacteristically restless. You're worried about your face. You're teasing me about Garrus. You're being goofy, for fuck’s sake!

ALENKO: So?

SHEPARD: Kaidan Bennett Alenko, are you in love?

ALENKO: It's BARRETT. And ‘in love’ might be a little... premature.

SHEPARD: OH MY GOD WHO IS IT? TELL ME WHO IT IS!

ALENKO: Not a chance. It’s a secret crush.

SHEPARD: Pleeeeeease? 

ALENKO: Nope!

SHEPARD: The fact that you’re being so evasive must mean it's someone I know. Come on, Alenko, spill it!

ALENKO: Don’t wanna.

SHEPARD: I’m going to keep pestering you about it until you tell me!

ALENKO: Do I need to pull rank on you, Commander?

SHEPARD: Nice try, Major, but you can’t pull rank on a Spectre.

ALENKO: Ah, speaking of which, there's something I need your opinion on.

SHEPARD: Nuh uh, no way! Subject change denied!

ALENKO: Councilor Udina wants to nominate me as a Spectre. I want to know what you think. Maybe get some advice.

SHEPARD: Wait, are you serious?

ALENKO: Yep.

SHEPARD: Kaidan, that's great! You'll be an amazing Spectre! (We are not done with that other thing though, just so you know!)

ALENKO: Heh, thanks. I wasn't sure if Udina talked to you about it or not. (The ‘other thing’ will keep until the time is right!)

SHEPARD: Yeah, Udina and I are... uh, fighting, I guess? (The time will be ‘right’ when I figure out who it is!)

ALENKO: That doesn't sound good. What do you mean by fighting? (I am a vault, and you shan't crack me.)

SHEPARD: He hung up on me the last time we talked. I'll fill you in on the details later. But don't worry, I will give you a glowing recommendation if he asks! You have my full, unwavering support! (I don't need to crack you, I'm gonna use my mad skills in observation and deduction.)

ALENKO: Thanks, Shepard. That means a lot. And don't worry too much about Udina- he can be moody. I'm sure he'll get over it, whatever it is. (Good luck, Sherlock.)

SHEPARD: I hope so. (Challenge accepted!)

ALENKO: Oh, and one more thing. Serious and important.

SHEPARD: Sure, what's up?

ALENKO: Have you heard from Anderson?

SHEPARD: No. Have you?

ALENKO: No. But something tells me he's alive.

SHEPARD: Alive, and probably way too busy to call. He's probably kicking Reaper ass.

ALENKO: Exactly. I'm sure we'll hear from him soon.

SHEPARD: This was fun, Kaidan. It’s always great to talk to you. See you in a few days!

ALENKO: Back at you, Shepard. See you soon!

Chapter Text

Lemme explain something to you: You want Commander Shepard on your team. Like, either get with the program, or get out of her way. Plus, she gets real protective of her crew. Anyone who messes with us is gonna need a closed-casket funeral. Well, after a stern warning, anyway. She’s got a soft side.

Basically, she's like our cool, cringey mom. And if I’m honest, I’m surprised we haven’t driven her to alcoholism.

-Flight Lieutenant Jeffrey “Joker” Moreau

Shepard

“Commander,” Joker paged her, “We, uh, have a little bit of a problem. Can you come to the bridge?”

She'd been on her way to Deck 3 to visit Garrus, but she quickly hit the panel to take her to Deck 2 instead. “On my way,” she said dully.

Are we ever gonna get the chance to catch up? She wondered with a heavy heart as she rode the lift. She and Garrus had been back in action of course; on missions, in meetings; typical Serious Business Mode (SBM) stuff. And while their ‘sexual reunion’ was certainly memorable (in so many ways!), it was also notably short on chit chat. They didn’t even get a chance for any 'pillow talk.'

Then, of course, there was the ‘vibe crisis.’ Then Eden Prime. Then the summit. Then Sur’Kesh. And now, all of a sudden, the Normandy was currently host to some of the galaxy’s most consequential VIPs: The primarch of Palaven; the only living Prothean; the most powerful warchief on Tuchanka; the venerable Dr. Mordin Solus; and a critically ill krogan female, on whom the fate of the entire krogan race- and the fate of the galaxy- now depended.

And as the ship's commander, Shepard was responsible for all of them. 

Of course, as a result, she and Garrus weren't able to manage concurrent schedules. They didn’t even eat or sleep at the same time. Basically, aside from a warm ‘good morning,’ a wistful ‘goodnight,’ and a few flirtatious text messages in between- Shepard and Garrus were pretty much just... colleagues.

She nearly laughed out loud at the sudden twist of dread in her gut; as if ‘colleagues’ were synonymous with ‘strangers.’ It hadn’t even been two weeks since Menae, she assured herself. There was no reason to worry. She and Garrus were still pointed toward each other. She could still sense the tug of their connection- a connection that wouldn’t just go away because they were too busy to hang out and talk...

...Right?

She was sure to give him a heads up that she’d be late:

-Hey, gotta swing by the bridge, I’ll be a few more minutes.

---No problem, I’ll be here.

She sighed. A small, petulant part of herself kind of wished he would push back. Just a little bit.

“But I miss you,” he might say. 

“I miss you too,” she’d assure him. “But, duty calls. Can you survive the wait?”

“I guess I can pass the time by thinking of ways you can make it up to me...”

“Now we're talking...”

She shook it off when she arrived on Deck 2, willing herself to focus so she could give Joker's ‘little bit of a problem’ her full attention. 

She was surprised to find Engineer Adams in the pilot cabin along with Joker and EDI (specifically, the AI’s mobile platform). “Status report?” She prompted them warily 

Joker grimaced. “The fuel depot is destroyed,” he said in a low voice, so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Reapers obliterated it.”

“Oh shit,” she cursed, but was sure to keep her own volume down as well. Her initial impulse was to order them to flee the system ASAP, but then she remembered they were in stealth. Don’t panic, she reminded herself, We’re safe. “Are we the first to find it like this?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Joker confirmed. “At least, we’re the first to report it. Must’ve happened in the last day or so.”

“Any other sign of Reapers in the area?”

“Negative, Commander,” said EDI. 

Thank fuck. “Okay. Well, we’re gonna need to try another depot. What are our options?”

“I recommend against burning at FTL to a neighboring system,” said Adams. “We’d be better off going back through the relay.”

Shepard nodded. A relay jump took a lot of power, and therefore a lot of fuel. But, sustained FTL between systems would cost even more. “Agreed. How are we on reserves?” 

“We aren't in any danger yet,” Adams replied, “But, we should probably ease back on the drive core. Either stay out of stealth, or slow down.”

“Hmm,” Shepard mused, “Time, or fuel- which can we spare more of, EDI?”

“There are too many unknown variables and conflicting priorities for me to provide a useful suggestion,” she answered. “This would be a ‘judgement call.’”

“Hell of a choice,” Joker noted.

“Your ship, your call, Commander,” said Adams.

Shepard nodded. She didn’t deliberate for very long, because all of her instincts implored her to hustle. “Drop stealth, and get us to another system depot as fast as you can,” she said. “Every hour counts.”

“Aye aye,” said Joker.

“Commander Shepard,” came the voice of Mordin Solus over her com, “If you’re available, Eve has asked to speak to you in starboard observation.”

She suppressed a weary sigh. “I'll be right there,” she said.

She’d have to keep Garrus waiting a little longer. Again.

“Hello, Commander Shepard,” the krogan female greeted her from her seat in the starboard lounge. 

“Hello,” she replied in kind. “Erm, may I ask- what would you like to be called?”

“I’ll gladly go by ‘Eve’ while aboard your ship,” she said as she beckoned to the seat beside her, inviting Shepard to sit.

She's too weak to stand, Shepard realized as she approached her.  “Okay, great,” she said with an affirming nod. The krogan’s large frame took up the space of two or three average-sized humans on the sofa; but there was still room for Shepard, so she sat down. The two of them faced the starboard window, beholding the view of the great void outside, speckled with twinkling stars and nebulous gas.

It reminded Shepard of her time with Samara- the asari Justicar- as they sat together in this very room not so long ago.

“I want to thank you, Commander,” said Eve. “You've risked a great deal on my behalf, even though you don't know me.”

“I’d certainly like to know you,” she said- and she meant it. “But, you also must know how important you are?”

“Hm,” she let out a short chuckle. “If anyone had told me that Maelon’s experiments would lead me here... I might’ve made a different choice. Or, maybe not. We'll see how this story ends.”

Shepard remembered accompanying Mordin to the Weyrloc compound on Tuchanka last year, and she’d been horrified by the state of Maelon’s lab. There were no survivors at the time- Eve and her companions must have escaped by then. “Can I ask," she ventured, "How did you end up with the Weyrloc clan in the first place?”

Eve nodded. “When a clan is desperate for mothers, they may try to take them from rival clans. So, when Weyrloc found our camp, several of us surrendered so that the fertile females of Urdnot could escape. But, Weyrloc hadn't come for mothers. Not primarily. They needed test subjects.

“Maelon offered us a chance to be a part of the cure,” she went on as Shepard listened. “I wasn’t in favor at first. I didn’t trust him. But Kurn- the youngest among us- volunteered without hesitation. She wouldn’t be talked out of it.”

“So you went with her?”

“Yes. I wouldn't let her go alone, and the others chose to follow us as well.”

“I wonder what they would have done if you hadn’t volunteered.”

“If Guld was as honorable as he claimed,” Eve said of the Weyrloc chief, “Then I would have been taken to the female camp, and the women would have decided my fate. Likely, they would have welcomed me as a sister. And I would have agreed.”

“Even though you were kidnapped from a rival clan?”

“The clans that claim our sons are... incidental,” Eve explained. “Women live outside the world of men, and they of ours. A respectable chief would always honor this custom.”

“I guess if you were a man, they would have killed you,” Shepard supposed.

“Yes. But most understand that fertile females must be safeguarded by their infertile sisters. They need guides; protectors; midwives.” 

“You say ‘they’,” Shepard pointed out, “But aren’t you fertile now? Wouldn’t it be ‘our’?”

“You’re right, of course,” Eve said. “But I don’t feel very ‘fertile’.”

“How do you feel?” Shepard prompted her.

“Do you want the honest answer to that question, Commander?”

“Of course.”

The krogan sighed quietly. “I feel like I'm going to die.”

A pang of sympathy gripped Shepard's heart. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Oh, yes. I can feel the pain of death in my bones, and in my blood.”

Another pang. “Can’t Mordin give you meds for it?” Shepard asked.

Eve shook her head. “The amount it would take to make a difference would put too much strain on my health,” she explained. 

“More than feeling death in your bones and blood?” Shepard countered.

“Yes. I must survive until Mordin synthesizes the cure.” The shaman's posture seemed to straighten in determination. “So, I will bear it.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Shepard. “It isn't fair that you have to go through this.”

“It is the fate of women, Commander.”

Shepard balked. “To suffer?”

“To bear it,” Eve corrected her. “Krogan females are responsible for the survival of our species. We must not submit to the bloodrage- such is the fate of men.”

She frowned in confusion. “The fate of men is to... submit?”

“To rage.”

Shepard paused, wondering if Eve’s views were shared by many other krogan, or if she was an outlier as a shaman. It all just seemed so... extreme.

“Our ways must be strange to humans,” Eve admitted. “Your sex doesn't determine your life’s path.”

“There was a time in human history when it did,” she said. “But, it’s because the women were subjugated. They didn’t have a choice.”

“We don’t have a choice either,” said Eve. “But it’s not the men who oppress us- it’s the genophage.”

Suddenly, Shepard couldn’t help but think of Charn; the batarian who’d escorted her through the Bahak system before she blew it up. She remembered judging him for his own cultural norms, but he’d rightly called her out on it. He reminded her that no one had a say in the circumstances of their own birth. ‘Right’ and ‘wrong’ weren't all that black and white, and morality didn’t always translate well between alien cultures.

It pained her to think of him. They'd only just met at the time, but the memory of Charn’s death tore at her soul like a serrated knife.

“Can I ask you something?” She blurted out to Eve. “About... bearing it?”

“I will answer, if I can,” she said.

Shepard hesitated, but pushed on. “What happens when it’s too much?” She asked. “What if something is... unbearable?”

Eve lowered her gaze. “Then your only choice would be to die,” she said.

Shepard nearly scoffed in surprise. “You mean give up?”

“No, Commander,” she assured her. “‘Giving up’ is the opposite of what I mean.”

Shepard considered the shaman’s words. “You know, you remind me of someone,” she said.

Eve chuckled. “Someone strong and healthy, I hope.”

“Definitely,” Shepard nodded. “An asari Justicar. She actually stayed in this exact room for a time.”

“Based on my limited knowledge of the Justicar order,” said Eve, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s meant as one,” Shepard assured her. “I sought her counsel more than once- and I think her take would be a lot like yours.”

“Hm,” she chuckled again. “She sounds very wise.”

The flash of a comet pulled their attention to the starboard window- but it soon disappeared behind a dim trail of space dust. They couldn’t help but pause their conversation to admire the astounding view for a few silent moments.

“I’m not sure if you knew,” Shepard eventually spoke again, “But, I actually died once.”

Eve turned to her in surprise. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Literally. But, I was brought back.”

“I’ve only heard of such miracles in divine tales,” she said.

Shepard chuckled. “Well, as much as the project lead resembled a goddess,” she said of Miranda Lawson’s tall stature and stunning beauty, “It was a miracle of science.” 

“May I ask, Commander,” ventured Eve, “What was it like to die?”

The subject should have been dark and uncomfortable. And the fact that Eve’s health was so tenuous should have made the topic all the more disrespectful. But, there was also a strange sort of freedom in talking about death, Shepard realized. A reminder that there was no use fearing something that was so rigidly inevitable, and wholly universal. “It’s hard to explain,” she began. “I remember it hurt, but I've also experienced worse pain, and survived. It wasn’t quite like going to sleep, everything just... stopped. If there's an afterlife, I don't remember it. But... I didn't remember my death, either. Not at first. Samara helped me recover my memory of the Collector attack. So I guess, it’s actually a memory of a memory.”

She sighed before continuing. “I’m glad I was brought back,” she said. She thought of Garrus, and what they’d found together since her resurrection. She knew she would die a hundred times over if it meant she could keep it. “I have a lot to live for- but... it’s also been hard. I feel like there are parts of me that will never be the same.”

When Eve didn’t reply, Shepard chuckled again and shook her head. “Sorry to ramble,” she said, “But you did ask.”

Still, the krogan said nothing.

“You okay?” She turned to her in concern.

Again, silence.

“Eve?”

...

...

“...Eve?”

Chapter Text

Garrus

“I think we could all do with a break, and a little rest,” Victus offered after they wrapped up their latest conference with C-Sec for the day.

“I think you're right, Primarch," said Shepard as she stepped back from her console. 

Garrus agreed. They were all exhausted- and not just physically- but he wondered how anyone was going to be able to relax after everything that had happened today. 

“Hey,” he approached Shepard when the others left the war room.

“Hey,” she echoed dully.

He tried to meet her gaze. “Do you want to talk?” He asked her.

But she lowered her head. “Actually,” she said with a sigh, “I think I'd like to be alone.”

Garrus forced himself to nod. It was understandable... in fact, if he were in her place, he would probably need a little solitude as well. He just wished there was something he could do. “Go on,” he urged her, “Get some rest.”

“You should, too,” she insisted. 

“I will,” he said. “Just gonna wrap a few things up here.”

“Okay.” She turned to leave.

Damn it, he couldn’t just let her walk away without another word. “Shepard,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he reminded her. “There was nothing we could do.” It was the truth, and he hoped she realized that.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah.” 

A heavy silence lingered between them; What else was there to say?

“We'll catch up soon, okay?” She finally said.

“Count on it,” he said.

This damn war, he thought somberly.

And he knew it was only going to get worse.

Garrus happened to be in the mess when the commotion started that afternoon. It sounded like it was coming from starboard.

Dr. Chakwas intercepted him as he made his way over to investigate. “Garrus, come with me,” she bade him frantically.

“What’s going on?”

“We need to get Eve back to the medbay, help me prep the gurney.”

The gurney- which was an enormous, upright transport device designed specifically for krogan- needed to be unstowed from the med closet, and it was definitely a two-person job. They managed to quickly unfold it and lock the mechanisms in place, then they activated the mass effect stabilizers to mitigate its weight.

Mordin and Shepard were already in starboard observation when they got there- and it wasn’t looking good. “Hold her steady,” the professor instructed Shepard as she strained to keep Eve upright. The krogan must have lost consciousness.

“We’re here,” said Chakwas.

“Come,” Mordin ordered them tersely. “All hands must assist.”

While Solus and Chakwas strapped Eve into the gurney, Garrus and Shepard provided the muscle to lift her up- and damn, it took a lot of muscle! Too bad Vega wasn’t here to help- or Wrex, for that matter. 

By the time Eve was secured in place, he noticed Shepard’s face was flushed and glistening with sweat. He wondered how long she’d been propping the krogan up by herself before help had arrived. “You okay?” He asked her.

“I’m fine,” she replied, but she never took her eyes off Eve.

Once they delivered the patient to the medbay, Solus and Chakwas kicked him and Shepard out so they could get to work. Just like old times, Garrus thought.

Suddenly, the door to the lift hissed open. “Where is she?” Wrex bellowed.

“She's in the medbay,” Shepard answered as she caught her breath.

“What the hell happened?”

“I dunno, she- she passed out.”

Wrex smacked the panel to enter the medbay, but the lock was engaged. “Let me in before I break down this door!” He hollered.

The doors opened, but Dr. Chakwas stood in Wrex’s path. “What's the matter with you!” She snapped, “How many times do we have to have this conversation? You're impeding our work, and putting undue stress on the patient!”

“Tell me what's going on!” He demanded. “Is she dying? Let me see her!”

“Urdnot Wrex,” Chakwas’ expression hardened as she clenched her fists. “I will bloody my own forehead against yours before I let you in this medbay!”

Wrex roared in frustration, and opted to punch the wall.

Then he took a deep breath, calmly walked to the mess, and planted himself outside the medbay window. He grudgingly crossed his arms, resigning himself to waiting quietly.

Garrus noticed the dent in the bulkhead, and he and Shepard shared a look of disbelief. He was no ship architect, but he was pretty sure that wasn't supposed to be able to happen!

Suddenly, Shepard’s com chirped. “Commander,” said Joker, “We, uh, have a medium sized problem. Can you come back up here, ASAP?”

Shepards eyes widened in alarm. “On my way.” Then she beckoned to Garrus. “Come on,” she said.

He followed, wondering what else was about to go wrong today.

“Commander,” said Joker when they got to the pilot cabin, “You're not gonna believe it, but... this one's been hit too.

“Oh, no,” she groaned quietly.

“‘This one’?” Garrus asked for clarification.

“The fuel depot,” said Adams.

Oh, no.

Shepard took a deep breath. “Give me the rundown,” she implored the engineer. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”

Adams nodded. “We’re down to primary reserves after the last jump,” he said. “One more, and we’ll be drawing from the backup reserves.”

“And then?” She prompted him warily.

“Then, we would have to drop FTL and stealth until... well, until we could refuel.”

Garrus tensed at the engineer’s assessment. They were in deep space; without FTL, they might as well be adrift.

Shepard sighed. “We have no choice but to make another jump,” she said, “But, is there any way we can be sure there’s an active depot on the other side?”

Joker winced. “I mean, we were the first to report the last two, so...”

Garrus shook his head in disbelief. “Is the network already so degraded that we can’t confirm the status ahead of the jump?” He asked.

“It’s hard to say whether this is a widespread issue, or if we’ve just been unlucky,” Adams admitted.

“Okay, so we're currently connected to what, five other systems?” Shepard confirmed as she verified their coordinates, “Which one has the depot with the closest orbit?”

“Searching,” said EDI. “The Carthage System, in the Punic Reach.”

“Huh,” Garrus mused, “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.”

“Me neither,” said Shepard. “Where is it, exactly?”

“Here,” EDI pulled up an overview of the local mass relay matrix.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Shepard muttered under her breath.

Fuck’s sake is right, Garrus thought with a hitch of dread. Apparently, Carthage had only one known relay connection. Talk about remote.

“I’m surprised it has a depot at all,” said Adams. “What’s out there, anyway?”

“Tyvor, a human colony,” EDI informed them. “Founded approximately ten years ago; they have claimed rights to a cluster of asteroids rich in heavy metals. Estimated population: Six thousand.”

“You know,” said Joker, “A colony like that would have been a prime target for the Collectors.”

“Good thing we stopped them before they finished their ‘to-do’ list,” said Shepard.

“If we’re lucky,” said Adams, getting back to business, “We can top off and be back on our way to the Citadel within a day.”

“But, if we’re unlucky... we'll end up adrift in a remote system,” Joker pointed out.

Garrus was sort of glad Joker said that, so he wouldn’t have to.

Shepard frowned and shook her head. “I need more information before we just take off,” she said as she touched the com panel by the cabin entrance. “Primarch, can you come to the CIC?” She paged him. “It’s urgent.”

“I’m on my way,” Victus replied.

Shepard hesitated, then hit the panel again. “Mordin, how’s-”

“Stand by for updates,” the professor snapped, “Interruptions unhelpful.”

“Right,” she said with a tight voice. Then she beckoned for Garrus to follow her to the CIC. “Garrus,” she said, “I need you to work with Victus to find out if there are any turian assets in the system we can access. Secret stockpiles, undercover tankers, anything.”

“Understood,” he said. “Should we include Liara?”

“Holy shit,” Shepard let out an abrupt chuckle, “I almost forgot we have the Shadow Broker on retainer. Yeah, she can tap asari and salarian intelligence. We can cover more ground that way.”

“How much time do you want to give this?”

She sighed. “If we can’t find any other options in an hour... then we’ll head back through the relay.”

They did their best. But after almost 3 hours, Shepard finally gave the command to set a course for the Carthage system.

Everyone held their breath as they made the jump, and Garrus noticed Shepard was looking unusually grim. “Whatever happens, we'll figure it out,” he assured her.

She nodded vaguely. “I know, I just... I could really use a win today.”

“The depot is operational,” EDI reported when they arrived in the system.

They all let out a collective breath of relief; Finally, a little luck!

“Yeah, I dunno about you guys,” said Joker, “But I'm not unclenching until we’ve got a full tank.”

“Let’s get her docked,” said Shepard. “And, you guys, we need to better prepare for situations like this. We can’t let this happen again.”

“Agreed,” said Garrus. “Any way we can increase our reserves?”

“Adams?” Shepard prompted him.

“I've got some ideas,” the engineer replied, “I just need to test some things out.”

“It’s your new priority,” she said.

"Aye aye, ma'am."

The com chirped. “Commander,” came the voice of Dr. Chakwas, “Dr. Solus still has his hands full, but I wanted to let you know that Eve is stable for now.”

Shepard looked like she might keel over with relief. “Oh thank god,” she breathed. “Good work, you two.”

“Shepard,” Mordin chimed in, “Recommend Eve remain in medbay until we arrive at the Citadel.”

“It’s your call, Mordin,” she said.

“Perhaps, but would appreciate direct order, should patient object.”

“Okay," she relented. "EDI, note that Eve is not to leave the medbay without Mordin’s permission. That's a standing order.”

“Acknowledged,” said the AI.

Shepard put a hand to her brow, “And please let that be the last emergency today!”

Garrus almost warned her not to ‘jinx’ it, but he stopped himself. 

There was really no need to go there.

Thankfully, fuel integration went off without a hitch; and Garrus, Shepard, and Adams returned to the pilot cabin as they prepared to leave.

“Ah, feel better after a good meal, EDI?” Joker teased the AI.

“Fuel reserves are at max capacity,” EDI confirmed. “I feel... like I could use a nap.”

Before Joker could continue the banter, an alert came in on the console. “Commander, we’re being hailed,” the pilot reported.

“Who is it?” She asked.

“It’s coming from the colony.”

“Put them through.”

A human’s frantic voice came in over the channel. “Repeat, is anyone there?” He begged them. “Please respond!”

“This is Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy,” she said, “We hear you, loud and clear.”

“Oh thank- wait, did you say Commander Shepard?” He sputtered, "As in, the Commander Shepard?”

Garrus watched as Shepard struggled to suppress a furtive smile. “That’s right,” she confirmed, “And who is this?” 

“Miles- er, Miles Kim, I’m with Tyvor security.”

“What’s the situation, Mr. Kim?” She prompted him.

“The Reapers are here,” he replied desperately, “They’re swarming the colony, blocking our access to the evac shuttles- we’re completely cut off!”

Garrus felt a cold wave of trepidation course through his veins. The damn Reapers had gotten here ahead of them!

“Mr. Kim,” Shepard implored him in a sober, even tone, “I need to know exactly what they’re doing; Are they attacking? Are you under siege?”

“They're... taking people,” he said, “But, I don’t know where.”

To be harvested, Garrus realized with dismay.

“What else?” Shepard urged him, “Are they on the ground? In the air? How many capital ships?”

“I- I think they’re all on the ground, except for a few bulky ones in the air, when they... when they fill up a cage... argh, damn it!" Kim cursed in frustration. "If we could just get to the shuttles!”

“Miles, did you get someone?” A new voice came through the com. She sounded out of breath.

“Penny, you're not gonna believe this- it's Commander Shepard!”

“Commander!” She exclaimed desperately, “Please, they’re breaching our barricades! We need weapon support, ASAP!”

Shepard hesitated before responding. “Stand by,” she eventually bade them, then muted the com.

“We can provide air strikes,” Joker suggested quickly, “Help clear a path to their shuttles.”

“Maybe deploy the Kodiak to help with evacuations,” offered Adams.

But Shepard said nothing. She was frozen in place

She looked pale.

“Uh, orders, Commander?” Joker prompted her warily.

Garrus watched as Shepard’s expression hardened with steely resolve. “We can’t help them,” she voiced somberly.

“Huh?” Joker frowned, “Why not?”

It was then that Garrus realized that news of Eve’s rapidly declining health had yet to reach the pilot cabin.

“We don’t have time,” she said. “We can’t risk any more delays.”

The pilot scoffed. “I’m sorry, Commander- but what the fuck? We’re just gonna leave them?”

“Eve is dying,” she stated cooly. “And without her... I’m sorry Joker, I know you don’t want to, but you need to respect my orders.”

The pilot sighed in frustration. “Yeah,” he relented grudgingly.

Shepard took a deep breath, then unmuted the com. “Mr. Kim?”

“How soon can you get here?” He asked frantically, “We should be able to coordinate-”

“Mr. Kim,” she cut him off. “Miles... I’m sorry. But we can’t get to you.”

There was a tense pause after she spoke. “I don’t understand,” he finally replied.

“Our mission is urgent-”

“But, you’re in com range!” He exclaimed incredulously, “You’re right here!”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “We’ll send someone to help as soon as we possibly can.”

“No, Commander, don’t go!” He begged, “There are children here! Just help us evacuate the kids, please!”

“What’s going on?” Penny’s voice returned.

“They’re... they're not coming,” his voice seemed to quiver in disbelief.

“What?”

“They’re not coming,” he said again.

“I’m so sorry,” Shepard reiterated, “But we can’t-”

“But, you’re Commander Shepard!” Penny exclaimed, “I- I thought this was why you were here! What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“Fight,” Shepard implored them staunchly. “Whatever you do, don't stop fighting.”

Garrus lowered his head in respect. Those poor people... they were just civilians...

“Oh my god,” Penny rasped, “This is it. This is really it.”

“Penny,” said Kim, “We can’t let them get the kids.”

But she only wept in response.

“I’m gonna make a run for the reactor,” said Kim, “But I need you to cover me.”

“I... I love you, Miles," she sobbed, "I’m sorry I never said so before now.”

“Oh, Penny...”

Garrus noticed Shepard was clenching her fists as she struggled to remain composed. “I wish you luck,” she said in a tight voice. “Godspeed.”

“Yeah, thanks for nothing, Commander,” Kim spat before ending the call.

They all allowed themselves a moment of collective silence before forcing themselves to get back to work. What could any of them possibly say that would help? They still had so much to do. They had no choice but to move on.

Garrus was confident that Shepard had made the right decision; Eve was far too important. They couldn’t risk losing their only chance to cure the genophage; and perhaps their only chance to win the war. But... to have to be the one to make that call; to be the one to break the news to those they were leaving behind... That kind of thing could leave a mark on your soul.

And it was something he knew Shepard was never going to forget.

This damn war, he thought again to himself with a bitter scowl.

Later, they would learn that the colonists on Tyvor managed to overload their reactor. The resulting explosion wiped out the entire population in an instant. 

It must have been a hell of a choice to have to make.

But of course... everyone knew it was better than being taken by the Reapers.

Chapter Text

OPERATION: PONY EXPRESS

Attn: Lieutenant James Vega

Priority: 1

Classification: Confidential

..........................................

BEGIN BRIEFING

James-

I have an important job for you when we reach the Citadel. We need to receive a delivery from Huerta Memorial, but we can’t schedule it through official channels, so I’m assigning this task to you.

This is a highly confidential operation, and is not to be discussed with anyone other than myself. All information is provided on a ‘need-to-know’ basis.

Commit the following instructions to memory: 

• You’re to deliver a carton of medical supplies to the front desk at Huerta Memorial Hospital. 
• Once you've handed off the supplies to a staff member, tell them you'd like to see Major Kaidan Alenko before you go. 
• They may ask if your visit is personal or official, and you will confirm that this is a personal visit. The major will be expecting you, and is aware of his part in your mission.
• Remain with Major Alenko in his hospital room until visitor hours end. Ignore the announcement, and stay there until you’re personally asked to leave by staff.
• Return to the waiting room and stand by the window to admire the view.
• You will be approached by a human woman, who will ask you to carry her bag to D25. She is our undercover Contact. The Package will be inside the bag.
• Refuse her request for help until she offers to pay you. Your reluctance should convince any witnesses that this is not a planned interaction.
• Allow the Contact to lead the way, and do not engage in personal conversation.
• She will in fact lead you to D24, not D25. Do not comment on the discrepancy. 
• Follow her as she proceeds to board the Normandy. You must behave as if nothing is out of the ordinary. In fact, try to look bored.

Do not deviate from these instructions unless absolutely necessary, and DO NOT ABORT under any circumstances.

Priorities are as follows:

Primary Objective: Maintain possession of the Package at all times, and handle with care; the Package is not to be opened at any time before boarding the Normandy.

Secondary Objective: Monitor the safety of our Contact; ensure that she is not harassed or detained.

Auxiliary Objective: Pay attention to Major Alenko’s interactions with hospital staff. Note if he flirts or makes ‘googly eyes’ with anyone in particular. DO NOT inform him of this objective.

Operation PONY EXPRESS will be complete once the Package is safely aboard the Normandy.

..........................................

Let me know if you have questions or need clarification. We’ll meet about this again tomorrow before you disembark.

-Commander Shepard

END BRIEFING

James

“Hey, where are you off to?” Cortez asked him as they happened to pass each other in the CIC.

“Got a few errands to run,” James answered. “Gonna deliver some supplies to HM, figured I'd pop in to see how the major's doing.”

Cortez nodded in approval, then seemed to have a realization. “Oh man, do you think Vinny’s is still open?”

“Vinny’s?”

“It's a restaurant by the hospital.” Steve clarified.

James grimaced. “Don't tell me it's in the cafeteria.”

“Who cares? They make authentic Italian dumplings- best on the Citadel.”

“I'll have to take your word for it.”

“Hey,” Cortez added, “If you can wait ten minutes, I'll come along and we can grab a bite. We could probably even get something to-go for the major.”

James awkwardly cleared his throat. “Er, I'm actually in kind of a rush. Raincheck, though?”

Cortez clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Sure, but now I've got a hankering. I think I might just go by myself.”

“Damn, those must be some tasty dumplings!”

“You have no idea what you're missing.”

“Heh, next time, Esteban.”

“I'll hold you to it.”

Whew, that was a close one! He couldn’t let Cortez tag along, but James hated having to turn him down. An afternoon with a good friend and good food? Sounded like fucking paradise after this past week. Unfortunately, instead of hanging out with his buddy, he would have to make small talk with a guy he barely knew. And a superior, no less.

But, orders were orders. He had a job to do.

“Hey, Lieutenant, good to see you.” Alenko greeted him from his hospital bed. His face was still a little bruised, but he seemed to be doing alright, all things considered.

James was relieved- not just because the major was recovering (of course)- but because he was worried that he’d have to pretend to hang out with someone who was doped up and barely conscious. “You too, Major,” he said. “I was uh, in the neighborhood, figured I'd stop by and see how you were holding up.”

“Your timing's pretty good,” Alenko granted him, “A solid excuse for cancelling my appointment with mind-numbing boredom.”

“Ha, that's why I’m here,” he said, “I always bring the fiesta.” 

The major chuckled. “So, is someone else gonna come in with the beer, or...?”

“Wouldn’t wanna make the other patients jealous,” James replied with a smirk.

When the door closed, Alenko nodded to the chair across from his bed. “Have a seat,” he told him. “Try to look like we're still just joking around.”

“That thing has a privacy setting, no?” James pointed to the transparent wall that faced the rest of the clinic.

“Yeah, but we don't want anyone wondering what we’re up to. Better for people to just see a couple of pals shooting the shit, and they’ll forget all about it. No one can eavesdrop with the door closed, but this way they won't suspect any... well, subterfuge.”

“Makes sense,” James said. “So, are you supposed to give me a ‘code word’ or something while I'm here?”

“Nope. The commander just needs you to be in the right place at the right time, and I get to be your excuse.”

“Easy enough.”

Alenko nodded toward the door. “I see someone coming. Time to laugh.”

They both forced a chuckle as the door opened- and it felt so ridiculous that James ended up laughing for real.

A human doctor walked in. “Ah,” she put a hand to her chest, “I’m so sorry to interrupt! I just need to adjust your medication levels, Major.”

“Heh, no problem, Doc, we’re just hanging out,” said Alenko. “James, this is Dr. Chloe Michel. Dr. Michel, this is Lieutenant James Vega.”

Whoa, James mused as he got a good look at her, Hot doctor alert! “Good to meet you,” he said.

“Good to meet you, too, Lieutenant,” she said with a warm smile.

James struggled not to roll his eyes as he suddenly remembered his ‘auxiliary objective;’ he was supposed to try and glean the major’s interest in any woman he happened to interact with. Commander Shepard, you freakin’ weirdo, he thought snidely as he forced himself to observe the major’s behavior.

“I actually thought the V.I. handled my dosage,” Alenko commented as the doctor entered commands on the terminal next to his bed.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “But I prefer to check it myself once in a while, considering the complications with your L2 implant.”

“I’m told it got a little rattled,” he said to James with a hapless shrug.

“How’s the pain?” The doctor asked him.

“Three out of ten,” he reported. “Getting better every day.”

“Good,” she said as she put a note in her data pad. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Page me if anything changes, yes?”

“You got it Doc,” Alenko assured her as she left.

James suppressed a frustrated sigh; That interaction told him nothing. “Wow,” he ventured after the doors closed, “She’s cute as hell. Must be hard to keep things, uh... professional.”

Alenko frowned in disapproval. “I don’t think of her like that at all,” he said. “The whole ‘doctor/patient’ thing kinda weirds me out, if I’m honest.”

Well, dang, James thought with disappointment. He was really hoping this would be an open and shut case!

“Wait a second,” Alenko narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “Did Shepard tell you to do recon on my personal life?”

James let out a short, awkward laugh. “Nah, I just, uh, you know...” He cleared his throat. “I thought she was cute, that’s all.”

The major chuckled and shook his head. “Well, you can tell the commander that she’s wasting her time sniffing around the hospital; it’s a dead end.”

“That's... a relief,” James admitted, which made them both laugh.

Soon, the announcement for the end of visitor hours sounded over the intercom.

Then, as expected, a nurse came in to tell James it was time to leave.

James only had to stand by the window in the lobby for a few minutes before the next phase of his mission was underway.

“Pick-up for Uma Nuara,” he heard someone announce from the guest services desk.

“Yes, thank you,” a woman replied. She sounded impatient.

“Sign here.”

“Right.”

“Have a good day.”

“Wait,” the woman objected, “You’re taking the cart back?”

“It’s hospital equipment, ma’am.”

“But, I can’t carry this all the way to the dock!”

“I’m sure you can call a courier, ma’am.”

“Well, shit. Shit.”

That had to be her, James decided. He tried not to tense up with anticipation, and was sure to focus his gaze on the view of the Presidium lake.

“You there,” he heard her say as she shuffled over with the bag, “Mr. Muscles!”

And all of a sudden, James understood the real reason Shepard had tapped him for the job: He would always be the natural choice for someone looking for a pack mule!

He turned around and looked her over. She was tall, and wore a tailored business outfit. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. And she had one of those fancy visors for people who worked ‘on the go’, and wanted the world to know that they were Very Busy and Very Important.

James wondered if it was a cover, or if this ‘Uma Nuara’ was in fact some uptight corporate drone. “Huh,” he finally said, “You guessed my name on the first try, congrats.”

She rolled her eyes from behind her visor interface. “Look, could I get a hand, here?” She said, “They took my cart.”

He frowned at her- he didn’t even have to pretend to be annoyed by her attitude! “I gotta say, ma’am, that’s kind of a crappy way to ask someone for a favor.”

“Oh come on,” she groaned. “You’re Alliance, aren’t you?” She pointed to his dog tags. “Isn’t helping others your whole... thing?”

“I’m... off duty,” he said.

“For god’s sake,” she huffed. “Fine. How many credits will it take for you to carry this to D25?”

He paused, as if thinking it over. “Two hundred.”

She scoffed. “One hundred.”

“One-fifty.”

She scoffed again, even more dramatically. “Fine,” she relented. “You’re lucky I’m in such a fucking hurry.”

“Be careful!” Nuara warned him for the hundredth time when they got off the lift for the docks, “Are you sure you can handle it?”

James rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, and I get it; it’s fragile,” he said.

She huffed in annoyance, then turned around and started walking again. 

Seriously though, James thought to himself, What the FUCK is in this bag? He knew it was classified; hell, he might never find out what was in it- but that didn’t stop him from trying to guess!

It was about the size of a field pack, he decided, like the ones you take for a short trek through some alien wilderness. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the type of bag he could carry on his back. He had to sling the strap over his shoulder. And it was heavy, alright; Not so much that he couldn’t carry it, but enough that he had to switch sides and put it over his other shoulder once or twice.

And it held its rectangular shape well enough- but James could swear he could detect the sound of… sloshing? Was there liquid in this thing? Maybe it was some kind of special medigel to treat the female krogan.

Damn, he was really stumped!

Nuara moved at a brisk pace, and James actually began to sweat a little as he struggled to keep up with her. “Hey,” he called out before she got too far ahead, “Give me a sec, here.”

She stopped, and let out a loud, impatient sigh. “I should have just rented a cart,” she muttered to herself as James caught up.

“And I should have insisted on more credits,” James countered as he awkwardly shifted the strap to his other shoulder.

But then...

Suddenly...

It all happened so fast...

There was a ‘click’ as a clasp became unhooked-

Then the weight of the pack disappeared from his shoulder-

Then Uma Nuara shrieked in panic-

And then there was a heavy THUNK, as a highly confidential, extremely fragile Package hit the ground!

Chapter Text

James

“Oh, shit!” James cursed as the Package tumbled to the floor.

“Christ, you have ONE JOB!” Uma Nuara hissed frantically. She quickly crouched over the bag to inspect its integrity.

James knelt beside her and pointed to the strap. “It broke,” he said in his defense.

“It didn't break,” she argued, “Look- you unclasped it!”

“How? I didn't do anything to it!”

“You must have jostled it loose while you kept shifting it around!”

“Hey, don't blame me for your crappy bag!”

“Damn it, it doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “It’s happened, and we have to move on!”

James reached for the Package. “Here, I can just-”

“Don't,” she ordered him, “I need to check for leaks.” She ran her hands around the bottom of the bag, then let out a sigh of relief. “I think we're good,” she breathed.

So, there was liquid in there! “Sounds like good news,” James said.

Nuara buckled the clasp again. “Come on, let's go before we draw any more attention.”

“Hold on,” he argued, “I don't trust that strap anymore.”

“Then how do you plan to carry it?” She demanded.

“I can put it up on my shoulder,” he said.

She hesitated, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine,” she agreed.

James grunted as he hoisted the bag up and got himself underneath it. It was actually a lot easier to carry this way; he wished he’d thought to do this from the beginning!

“Oh god, you’ve got it upside down!” Nuara scolded him.

James huffed. “So do you want me to-” 

“Argh, forget it,” she cut him off, “Let's just hurry!”

As they picked up the pace, James hoped they just looked like they were in a rush to catch a flight or something.

“We’ll go through the cargo hold,” said Nuara when they got to the Normandy dock. They rushed inside, and she helped James lower the bag to the ground. “EDI, tell Mordin we had to come in through the shuttle bay instead of the bridge, and to meet us down here.”

“He is already on his way,” replied the AI.

Huh... this woman seemed to know an awful lot about the Normandy and its crew...

She tore the bag open, revealing a canister inside. What is it? James wondered. Some kind of weapon, maybe?

Then it moved.

What the fuuuuuuuuuck...?

“Look out, this might get messy,” Nuara warned him as she unsealed the canister and took a step back.

A splash of water spurted out as it opened, and James watched with horror as something began to climb out of it. Holy shit, were those... tentacles??

Oh damn! James realized as the contents of the bag finally took shape; It was a hanar!

“Are you alright, Doctor?” Nuara implored him.

The hanar was dripping wet, and he made a gurgling sound as he straightened himself up on his legs/tentacles. Then, he angled his body forward.... and proceeded to spew a bunch of pink liquid on the ground. 

Yikes! James thought with a grimace; Apparently, 'projectile vomiting' was something their species' had in common!

Nuara shook her head and sighed with dismay.

“This one... apologizes...” the hanar finally said with quivering bioluminescence.

“It’s quite alright,” she assured him, “You're bound to feel out of sorts after all that!”

James felt a pang of regret as it finally occurred to him that he’d just carried- and dropped- a bag with a person stuffed inside!

Mordin Solus arrived a second later, accompanied by Garrus Vakarian. “Shepard’s on her way,” said Garrus as he offered a towel to their sodden guest, who accepted it with an outstretched tentacle before wiping his... face? 

“Any complications?” The salarian asked them.

Nuara cleared her throat, and glared pointedly at James.

He hung his head. “I uh, dropped the bag,” he confessed sheepishly. “And then carried him upside-down, apparently. Oh man, lo siento- I'm really sorry about that!”

“This one forgives the other’s error,” the hanar replied as he continued to dry himself off.

“Good to have you here,” said Mordin. “Dr. Zenynder, this is Garrus Vakarian; Lieutenant Vega. I expect-”

“Coming through!” Shepard shouted as she suddenly came running off the lift! 

James tensed as she charged them at full speed- but she passed him and the others, making a beeline for Uma Nuara.

“Oh god!” Nuara cried as the commander flung her arms around her so forcefully, they both toppled to the ground. Thankfully, they missed the puddles of water and vomit!

Nuara let out a defeated sigh as Shepard squealed with excitement and held her in a tight grapple. “It's good to see you too, Shepard,” she relented, “But please get the fuck off of me!”

Mordin Solus tutted in disapproval. “So much for professional decorum before our esteemed guest.” 

James shook his head in disbelief as Shepard and Nuara finally stood up. “I guess you guys must go way back, huh?”

Garrus chuckled. “Mr. Vega,” he said, “Allow us to formally introduce you to our friend and colleague: The one and only Miranda Lawson.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” she interjected before James could reply, “Now, we don’t have much time; so let’s get right to work, shall we?”

Mordin escorted Zenynder to the Normandy medbay to meet Eve; then James, Shepard, Garrus and Nuara Lawson gathered in the conference room.

"I think your gaffe may have worked to our advantage," Lawson granted him. "Made it seem even less obvious that we were transporting someone inside the bag."

“Well, that's a relief,” he replied, though he still felt bad about it.

“Sometimes we get lucky,” said Garrus.

“We’re still going to need to get him back to his lab before tomorrow morning,” said Lawson, “But, it should be much easier to smuggle him back in.”

James cleared his throat. “So, uh, can I ask- what's with all the cloak and dagger, anyway?”

“The what?” Garrus asked.

The turian must not have heard the human expression before. “The sneaking around,” James clarified.

“Well, we definitely want to keep it under wraps that we have the krogan female aboard,” Shepard explained, “But, the whole transport operation was actually Miranda’s idea.”

“Apparently, she has her own reasons for keeping Zenynder’s location a secret.” Garrus added.

James nearly scoffed in surprise. “You mean you still don’t know?”

“As a rule, Miranda gets the benefit of the doubt,” said Shepard.

“We couldn't let anyone realize Dr. Zenynder left his lab,” Lawson finally explained. “His movements- his work- even his collaborations- are almost certainly being tracked by certain agents in the hanar government.”

“But why?” Shepard prompted her, “Can you share that with us?”

Lawson took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “Commander Shepard," she stated matter-of-factly, "I'm afraid that you've just wandered into the middle of a conspiracy that's been over a hundred years in the making.”

Chapter Text

Javik

It is time, Javik decided. It had been long enough. His nervous system had balanced itself (mostly). He had acclimated to the environment (nearly). And he needed a break from this ‘Crucible’ project before all four of his eyes rolled back into his head (so much reading!).

So, today, he would explore this ship. 

He still had much to learn about this cycle, and he couldn’t very well fight the Reapers alone from the confines of his room. Of course, he would have preferred to continue communing with the commander's cipher; the more time he spent with it, the more he could learn; the more precisely he could communicate; and the better he could understand these bewildering primitives.

But, Javik knew she had many responsibilities. And besides, he could not allow himself to become dependent on her cipher just to function in this cycle.

He wondered for a moment if he should alert her of his intention to wander the ship... but ultimately decided not to. He’d had so little agency since waking from stasis, he couldn't help but seize the opportunity to decide for himself; To take control of his own path.

Even if that path simply led him through the interior of the Normandy, one deck at a time.

Deck 4

He was not ready to take in the whole of it, to read the ship through touch and know the ghosts of those who have come and gone. Today, he would simply observe the present; the ‘here and now.’

He'd been vaguely curious about the ship’s drive core since he came aboard, so he began in the engine room.

“Oh, hey, hello,” sputtered the human male within.

Javik struggled not to roll his eyes at yet another anxious primitive. Were they all like this, he wondered? All of the time? It seemed an impossible way to live. But, he reminded himself to be patient. He lived among these people now, and he needed to learn how to cooperate with them.

Even as much as it... annoyed him to do so.

“Hm,” he finally acknowledged the human. “You maintain the engine?” He asked him.

“That’s right,” he nodded. “I'm Greg Adams, by the way; I don't know if you remember me, but I helped put your quarters together with Dr. T’Soni.”

“Yes,” Javik replied. He remembered.

“So... Can I help you with something?”

Finally- the pleasantries were over. “I want to see the drive core,” he said.

“Okay... sure... it's right this way.” The human led him down the short corridor.

Its construction didn’t look like the designs from Javik’s cycle, but it was recognizable enough as a source of exceptional power. “Spherical,” he commented. “Interesting.”

“One of the most efficient eezo drives around,” the Greg-human said with a lilt of pride.

“What is 'eezo’?”

“Element Zero,” he clarified. “We'd still be stuck in the Sol system without it; it's the only way to travel FTL.”

Of course, Javik realized. He should have known. “The substance that ties our plane to dark space,” he said in understanding. “My people call it Etheryl.” He didn’t catch himself in time to use the past tense- ‘called.’ It still was difficult to remember (and accept) that his people were gone.

Long, long gone.

He decided he’d seen enough of the engine for now.

“I guess I’ll see you later?” The Greg-human called after him as he left.

Deck 5

As Javik approached the armory, he came across two human males engaged in close conversation. He thought he recognized the smaller of the two- but the big one, he did not know.

The familiar one cleared his throat when he noticed Javik. “Oh, hey,” he quickly wiped his eyes. “It’s, uh, Javik, right?”

He finally remembered where he’d seen him. “You pilot the shuttle,” he stated.

“Yeah, I guess we weren't properly introduced.” He put out his hand. “I'm Steve.”

Javik reached out in kind. But the Steve-human’s acute distress startled him as soon as he touched his hand, and he quickly pulled away. “You are not well,” he said matter-of-factly. “You should see the doctor.”

“I'm okay,” he assured him.

“A lie,” Javik insisted.

“I’m James Vega,” the big one interjected, offering his own hand in greeting. 

Javik took his hand, and could feel a deep sense of protectiveness emanating from within him. This primitive considered himself a guardian. So then, why was he ignoring the Steve-human’s affliction? “You are not concerned for your colleague?” Javik asked him.

“He's gonna be fine,” he said.

Javik shook his head in exasperation. “I do not understand you primitives. You speak in soft lies and half-truths to cope with your constant anxiety.”

The James-human shrugged. “I guess that's just our way.”

“So, what brings you down here?” The Steve-human asked with a strained smile.

Javik straightened his posture, determined to engage in good faith. “I have much to learn about this cycle,” he admitted. “And about this ship.”

“And about the people too, right?” The James-human added for him.

“...Yes.”

“Bueno. Do you have any questions? What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what is wrong with you,” Javik prompted the shuttle pilot as he gestured around the bay. “Why are you distressed? All is quiet here.”

There was a tense pause as the humans exchanged an uneasy glance. “Um... do Protheans understand grief?” The Steve-human finally asked him.

“Of course,” Javik answered. “It is one of the many things that separates us from machines. Synthetics can never comprehend the power of it.”

They appeared surprised by his answer.

“So you are attempting to suppress your grief?” Javik surmised.

“It’s... not very appropriate to broadcast during work,” the Steve-human explained.

“Then it is no wonder you are sick,” Javik replied.

The James-human cocked his head. “So, when it comes to grief, Protheans just... what, let it all hang out?”

“We simply endure,” he explained. “There would be no point in denying it- one cannot control their own glandular chemistry.”

The Steve-human nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with Javik’s explanation. “We had to abandon a colony to the Reapers a few days ago,” he said. “It's bringing up some painful memories... of when I lost my husband last year.”

His beloved, Javik realized as his Knowing translated the term. “I see,” he replied. “How did he die?” 

The James-human sighed. “Hey Esteban, you don't have to share anything you-”

“No, it's okay,” he assured his companion. “He's here to learn...  right?”

Javik nodded.

“Our colony, Ferris Fields, was attacked by Collectors. I... I couldn’t save him.”

Javik grimaced. “The abominations,” he confirmed. He had recently learned how the Reapers had desecrated whatever had been left of his people. It was a mercy that Commander Shepard had destroyed them all.

“I don't know if he was killed right away, or if he was... taken,” the Steve-human’s voice tightened as he explained, “And I have to make peace with the fact that I’ll never know. It’s... well, it’s still hard.”

Javik nearly instructed him to make the most of his anguish- to use it as fuel in the fight against the Reapers- but, he reminded himself that these primitives were inclined to coddle one another. Like the James-human had said: It was just their way.

“You were proud to belong to him?” Javik kindly prompted him.

“Of course I was.” 

“Then you are fortunate.”

The Steve-human’s chin began to tremble. Then the James-human placed his girthsome arm around his companion’s shoulders.

Such blatant affection, Javik noted. “Are you his living husband, James Vega?” He asked curiously.

To his surprise, they both chortled at his assumption.

“Oh, he wishes,” the James-human said as he clapped him on the back.

The Steve-human shook his head as he laughed. “In your dreams, Vega. I prefer guys who are a little more...  humble.”

And suddenly, the primitives were jovial. It was as if their conversation about grief had not happened at all.

He did not understand.

“Oh, uh, adios, I guess?” The James-human added as Javik walked away.

Deck 3

When the lift doors opened on Deck 3, Javik’s senses were assaulted by the crowded noise of primitives talking, laughing, and pointlessly socializing. 

No, he decided as he quickly hit the panel to continue his ascent.

Just... no.

Deck 2

As soon as he entered the command center, he found himself face to face with a synthetic being. “Identify yourself,” he demanded.

“We have met before,” it replied. “I am EDI, and this is my mobile platform.”

He took a step back and scoffed. “Keep it away from me,” he ordered it, “Or I will-”

“There is no need for threats,” it cut him off, “I will respect your request.”

Did this machine just... interrupt him? Unacceptable!

“Joker- the Normandy’s pilot- is in the cabin at the bow of the deck,” it said before he could respond properly. “He is very eager to meet you.” 

Javik might have been gracious. He could easily have made his way across the deck to meet this Joker-pilot. He might even learn more about the ship by speaking to him.

But, because the machine had suggested it, he decided he didn't want to.

He sighed as he finally realized that what he really needed could not be found on the Normandy. He would have to speak to the commander.

Deck 1

He stood in the small corridor outside her quarters. He nearly asked EDI if the commander was inside, but he was still determined not to speak to it unless absolutely necessary. It was the principle of the matter, if nothing else. 

He rang the chime three times before deciding the commander was not there.

Suddenly, the doors to the lift opened. Inside, the commander and her turian were writhing in a tight embrace. They appeared to be devouring one another like starved animals.

So frivolous, these primitives!

“Oh, uh,” the turian noticed Javik first, and quickly pulled away from the commander.

Shepard turned around and gasped. “What the- Javik? What are you doing here?”

“I must speak with you,” he said.

She awkwardly smoothed the front of her uniform as her cheeks flushed with heat. “Okay, um... I guess it must be important for you to come here in person.”

“It is certainly more important than recreational sex,” he insisted.

The turian cleared his throat, and the commander put her hands on her hips in offense. They said nothing for a tense moment.

“Unless you are foolishly attempting to interbreed?” He inquired dubiously.

The commander turned to her turnian in exasperation. “Do you think Hackett would be super mad if I just quit?” She asked him. “Because I don't think I can work in these conditions.”

The turian chuckled and shook his head. “I'll talk to Hackett for you, if you talk to Victus for me.”

“Deal,” she agreed as she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

So very frivolous.

“Okay, Javik- so what do you need to talk about?” She finally asked him.

He gestured toward the turian. “Must he stay?”

She nodded. "Yeah, I think it's best if he does," she insisted.

The three of them stood in strained, awkward silence within the small corridor.

Then the commander sighed again and walked by Javik to open the door to her quarters. “Come on in, then,” she finally bade him. “Let’s have a chat.”

Chapter Text

Javik

“Please don't say anything about my cabin,” Shepard requested as they went inside. “I know it's an obscene waste of space; the people who built it were kind of insane.”

At least she was aware of it, Javik thought. “Indeed,” he said.

She led them to a sitting area. The turian opted to stand, while the commander lowered herself onto the sofa. She gestured for Javik to do the same,

This again, he lamented silently. Sitting together, as if they were mates. But, he joined her all the same- he did not wish to argue. He needed her help.

“So, what’s on your mind, Javik?” She finally asked him.

Where should he begin, he wondered? He needed Commander Shepard to understand that it wouldn’t be enough for him to simply assist with the Crucible translations. Javik needed to fight the Reapers- directly. He needed to lose himself in battle; and to revel in the power of the ether as he crushed his foes. He needed to wield the most powerful weapons; and to defeat the most fearsome enemies.  And by now, he knew that there was only one way that was going to happen.

But again... how should he approach this?

“What am I to you, Commander?” He finally asked her.

She cocked her head. “I'm not sure what you mean,” she said.

“What is my designation?” He clarified. “Am I your honored guest? Your asset? Your secret weapon? Your... prisoner?”

She was silent as she appeared to think it over. Then she let out a long breath as she folded her hands over her knee. “Well... what would you like to be?” She asked him pointedly.

He did not expect her to ask him directly, but he was glad she did. “I cannot fight the Reapers alone," he said. "I wish to join your crew.”

She blinked in surprise. “Are you sure that's what you want?” She said after a beat.

He nodded. “In this cycle, my fate depends on you,” he explained. “If you are as effective as they say, and if you can lead us to victory... then perhaps that fate will be worthwhile.”

“You were a soldier, right?” She confirmed.

“I was more than that," he said, "I commanded regiments.”

“What's your combat expertise?” The turian piped up for the first time since they entered the cabin.

Javik searched his Knowing for the right terms. “Guerilla tactics,” he said. “Hunting. A careful approach, followed by a powerful strike. I am also adept at wielding the ether- what your cycle calls biotic energy.”

The commander nodded thoughtfully. “I like what I'm hearing," she said, "But I have a few concerns.”

“Such as?" He prompted her.

“First and foremost," she said, "Are you sure you're prepared to follow orders from... a primitive?”

Javik bristled instinctively, but he reminded himself to do what he must. “Not from any primitive," he clarified, "Just you.”

“Hm. Well, I suppose I’m honored.”

“You needn't be,” he assured her. “I have no other choice.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Damn, I'm really not accustomed to your kind of candor,” she admitted with a bitter chuckle.

Javik thought of what he'd learned today by speaking with the other humans; the commander certainly wasn't the only one who felt that way. “I imagine not,” he granted her.

“But... I think I appreciate it, in a way,” she added. “I like that you get right to the point.”

He nodded, satisfied that she understood.

“Listen, Javik," she said, "You know better than anyone what's at stake, and I need everyone at their best. I know you've been struggling to adjust to this cycle, and I can't help but wonder if you're ready for action yet.”

He paused, unsure how to respond. What could he say, when he'd been wondering the very same about himself?

“So, what do you need from me to make sure you are ready?" She implored him. "Do you need any special equipment? Maybe a place to train?”

Javik was again surprised that she was at all concerned with what he wanted. “You have asked, so I will tell you," he said. "I need more time to commune with your cipher.”

The turian cleared this throat while the commander winced at his request. “That... didn't go so well last time,” she reminded Javik.

“No, it did not," he agreed. "You cannot endure Prothean consciousness, but I will not open my mind to yours. To communicate, I will simply speak to you.”

She seemed to think it over, then gave a careful nod.

Then the turian sighed. “Liara should be here, just in case,” he insisted. Javik had expected him to argue- but it seemed Shepard had been right about him; He respected her command, and would not undermine her authority.

“I will be careful,” Javik promised, “But... I understand if you wish her to be present.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Shepard said as she paged her colleague.

What a strange phrase, he thought. There was still so much he didn't understand.

The asari arrived in the cabin a few moments later and quietly sat down beside the commander. The turian lingered nearby, clearly attempting not to pace, but failing to do so.

“What do you need me to do?” Shepard asked Javik as she offered up her hand.

He took it, aligning a fingertip over her wrist to detect her pulse as she spoke. “Tell me about our fight with the Reapers,” he bade her. He would have said ‘your fight...’ but now that he was communing, ‘our’ felt more natural.

“It's... hard to say," she admitted. "We're taking it one day at a time.”

He reveled in his growing sense of clarity as she spoke. He was thankful she was engaging with him in good faith. “How do you plan to win?”

“By uniting the galaxy against them,” she said.

Javik could sense the commander's doubt in her own words. “It may be impossible,” he said.

She let out a weary sigh. “If you have another idea, I’m all ears.” 

She was still clinging to her honor, Javik began to realize, and to her lover. She didn't quite grasp it yet: That in order to fight the Reapers, she would have to abandon everything that she was. She must give all of herself, and break free of any notion that chained her to ethics, or morals, or honor, or love. Especially as a commander.

He hesitated before telling her this. Was she ready to hear such a thing, he wondered? Perhaps it didn't matter. If she couldn't accept the truth, then they were already doomed.

But, before he could speak, he was distracted by a strange presence lingering at the edges of the commander's awareness. It seemed to fade in and out of her perception. It... haunted her...

And it did not belong...

?...{Innocence+Death}...?

!...{Failure+Shame}...!

Hide~Flee~Weep

“Commander...” he finally prompted her in confusion, “...Who is the child?”

She gasped and yanked her hand away. “What the fuck did you just say?” She stared at him with wide, anxious eyes. 

He frowned. “Surely, you know of what I speak.”

Then she abruptly stood up in panic; She appeared shaken to her core.

“Shepard?” Voiced the asari with surprise.

“What is it?” The turian took a step toward her in concern.

“That’s enough,” she snapped as her expression turned stony. “I... you’re all dismissed.”

No one responded right away, and Javik noticed the turian and the asari share a look of alarm.

“I said dismissed,” Shepard repeated sharply, “Everyone out. Now.”

Chapter Text

~~~Welcome to Star Crossed, the Galaxy’s #1 Social Network for Romance!~~~

Upgrade to Premium Membership today at 50% off! 

Don’t delay- true love awaits! 

......

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] What the hell, I just found out the Normandy's been docked since yesterday!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Why haven't you checked in?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] DEE!

[SweeDeePie_2164] We’re not on shore leave. I need to stay on the ship.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] 'Shore leave?' You’re a civilian!

[SweeDeePie_2164] The crew is on standby. If the Normandy has to take off in a hurry, they won’t wait for me if I’m not aboard.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You could have at least told me you were docked.

[SweeDeePie_2164] I've been BUSY, Paulie!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Doing what?

[SweeDeePie_2164] It's classified.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Oh bullshit.

[SweeDeePie_2164] By the way, did you get my draft for the Cerberus piece? Any notes?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Dee, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't care about Cerberus! Nobody cares about Cerberus! Where are my reports from Earth? Where's my inside channel to the front lines?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Paulie, we need to MAKE people care about Cerberus! They're out of control. It’s almost like they're trying to help the Reapers win.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] That might be the dumbest shit I've ever heard.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Excuse me?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Why would a human spec ops organization help the Reapers destroy Earth? It doesn't make any sense.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Commander Shepard is pretty damn convinced they're a threat. She's the one who suggested I focus on them.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You work for me, not Shepard!

[SweeDeePie_2164] And if you keep this up, I’m never working for you again!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Fuck... I’m sorry. It's been really stressful around here. I haven't been sleeping.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Well, I know how you can make it up to me.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Oh yeah?

[SweeDeePie_2164] You can get me some new bunny slippers.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] What the hell happened to the other ones?

[SweeDeePie_2164] They were gunned down in cold blood.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You're gonna need to elaborate on that one.

[SweeDeePie_2164] I can't. It's classified.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Well, I'm not your bun courier. I found them at Fuffigans in the wards, you can pick out a new pair yourself.

[SweeDeePie_2164] You know what Paulie, I'm starting to think you don't like me.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] We broke up a year ago. I honestly haven't liked you since.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Dude, seriously, what the fuck is your problem with me lately?

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I told you, I'm fucking stressed out, and you're not making it any easier.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Don't put that on me, asshole. 

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Can we just drop it?

[SweeDeePie_2164] I've got a better idea. Why don't you just fuck all the way off.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I will, if you SEND ME SOMETHING I CAN WORK WITH.

~~~Welcome to Star Crossed, the Galaxy’s #1 Social Network for Romance!~~~

Upgrade to Premium Membership today at 50% off! 

Don’t delay- true love awaits! 

......

[SweeDeePie_2164] What the fuck did you do!?!?!?!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Settle down, Dee.

[SweeDeePie_2164] I will not! How dare you Paul!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] This isn't the first time I've edited your stuff before publishing.

[SweeDeePie_2164] You made me sound like a god damned Cerberus apologist. I want my name off that shit!

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You’re overreacting. I just made sure the piece was fair and balanced. There’s already enough going on in the war, we don’t need to stir the pot.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Who are you and what have you done with my ratings-obsessed producer? I’m serious- you’d better tell me something only the real Paulie Sadiq would know or we’re done using this channel.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You can’t be serious.

[SweeDeePie_2164] TRY ME.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] You were banned from Chora’s Den when Fist got sick of you poking around. You had a meltdown when Emily Wong beat you to the story. Believe me now?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Yeah, okay, but fuck you for picking that example.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Look, I can’t deal with this right now. I’m sorry about the Cerberus piece, but we have to move on.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Jesus, fine- but if you do anything like that again, I will quit and go freelance. Good luck trying to fit into this dress when you take over the Battlespace broadcast.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] I’d definitely rock those heels better than you do.

[SweeDeePie_2164] I’d be really fucking offended if you didn’t have such perfect fucking calves.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] We’re gonna get through this, Dee. Just... stay safe, and keep me posted, okay?

[SweeDeePie_2164] Right. Ditto.

[BETTER_CALL_PAUL_2155] Good.

[SweeDeePie_2164] Don’t reply after this- I’m taking dibs on the last word.

Chapter Text

Garrus

Miranda Lawson had reached out to them over subspace shortly after Mordin connected with Dr. Zenynder. Turns out, the former Normandy XO had gotten involved in her own web of intrigue while Shepard was on trial- and while the details were still a mystery, it was clear enough that the hanar scientist was at the very center of it.

They all quickly realized they would need to 'get creative' with their rendezvous at the Citadel; Both Eve’s and Zenynder’s whereabouts had to be kept under wraps; so, in order to get them in the same room together, one of them was going to have to sneak in and/or out of the Normandy.

Obviously, they wouldn't be able to ‘sneak’ Eve anywhere.

The other challenge was that the hanar scientist was extremely claustrophobic.

Garrus heard it took a lot of convincing from Mordin and Shepard (and eventually Wrex) to get Zenynder to agree to be ‘transported’ in a travel bag. Putting him in the liquid-grade bio tank was Miranda's idea- it was meant to make the trip safer and (hopefully) more comfortable for him. 

Garrus was glad it all worked out.

Sure made a mess, though.

When he and Vega finally finished cleaning up in the shuttle bay, he couldn’t hold back a weary sigh as he stretched his neck from side to side. 

“Man, what a day, huh?” The lieutenant mused with a click of his tongue.

Garus nodded. “It’s been a long one.”

“You should catch some shut-eye,” he said. “Last I heard, turians need sleep, too.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the same thing,” Garrus agreed with a chuckle. It didn't sound like such a bad idea. He should really lay off the stims and get some actual rest.

When he arrived on Deck 3, he found Wrex standing outside the medbay (as usual) while Eve was being treated within.

“Any news?” He asked as he approached the krogan.

“They're still fucking around in there,” Wrex replied. “Guess that's a good thing.”

“Who's with her now?”

“The hanar and the salarian. Oh yeah, and that old XO of yours. Everyone else went to bed. You just missed Shepard.”

Damn, he thought. “Thinking I’m gonna get some rest myself,” he said.

Wrex chuckled. “What, you're not gonna go up there and tuck her in?” 

“Very funny,” he drawled, despite the fact that he kind of wanted to do exactly that. If she wanted company, she would have sent me a message, he reminded himself with disappointment. 

The krogan turned his attention back to the medbay and let out a frustrated groan. “I hate this feeling,” he confessed. “This responsibility. It's such bullshit.”

“It’s a lot,” Garrus granted him. “I don’t envy your position.”

“Sometimes I think I should've just stayed a merc.”

“Aw, Wrex, you don't mean that.”

The krogan sighed. “If she dies, Garrus... I don't know what it's gonna do to me.” 

Garrus could definitely relate to that kind of fear. “Wish there was something I could do to help,” he said sincerely.

Wrex was quiet for a beat, then cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “You, uh... you never really struck me as the praying type, but...” He cleared his throat again. “Well… maybe you could put in a good word for her with those 'spirits' of yours.”

Garrus wasn't the praying type, but he didn’t mind making an exception for times like these. “Hm, sure Wrex,” he said. “Can't hurt. Just in case.”

He delivered on his promise shortly after, as he unstowed his bed in the battery. “Spirits, if you really do exist,” he muttered quietly as he thought of the female krogan, “Don’t let her die. For all our sakes.

“And, as long as you’re taking requests,” he added quickly as he laid himself down, “Save some luck for Dad and Sol, will you?”

He let out a long sigh as he closed his eyes, unable to fight the pull of sleep any longer. “And please, please look out for Shepard,” he whispered. “So many people need her...

...

...

“…I need her.”

The next morning, Zenynder had to get back to his lab before anyone noticed he’d left. The hanar had requested a moment of privacy while he contorted himself back into his bio tank- so Mordin assisted him in the shuttle bay while Garrus, Shepard and Miranda lingered outside in the corridor. 

“I wish I could tell you more about our... situation,” their former XO told them as she stifled a yawn (she must have worked through the night in the medbay helping with Eve), “But, Dr. Zenynder insists that we don't discuss the details outside his lab.”

“I get it,” Shepard assured her. “We’ve got some rules for topics like that on the Normandy, too. Stuff that’s ship-talk only.”

Miranda smirked. “Is that so?”

Shepard chuckled. “For example- we've got a Prothean on board.”

“A Prothean what?” Miranda asked.

“A Prothean guy,” Shepard clarified. “A person.”

“I... can’t figure out if you’re joking.”

“Cerberus dug up his stasis pod on Eden Prime,” Garrus explained, “But we got to him first. He lives in Grunt’s old room.”

Miranda scoffed incredulously, then her eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t tell Zenynder,” she implored them.

Shepard cocked her head. “Why not?”

“If he realizes there was an ‘Enkindler’ two decks below, he’s going to lose his mind,” Miranda warned, “And we need him focused.”

Shepard laughed. “Oh my gosh, I forgot about their whole 'worshipping Protheans' thing.”

Garrus didn't comment- he was embarrassed to realize that he'd forgotten, too!

Miranda leaned to peek into the shuttle bay. “Sure is taking his time getting back into that thing... but, I suppose I can’t blame him.”

“Does Vega need to carry him back?” Garrus double-checked.

Miranda shook her head. “Thankfully, I’ve arranged transport for a cart of medigel, so he’ll be able to ride inside without being detected. Should be more comfortable for him.”

“Why didn’t you do that on the way here?” Shepard asked her.

“Because I can’t be seen lugging around the same ‘mysterious package’ all over the Citadel,” she replied.

Shepard let out a wistful sigh. “You're so smart,” she said. “Come back to the Normandy. Run away with us.”

Miranda smirked. “Tempting, I admit,” she granted her.

“I seriously can’t wait to hear more about what you’ve been up to,” said Shepard as she snuck her own glance toward the shuttle bay.

“You’re still coming to the lab with Dr. Solus in a few days, aren’t you?” Miranda confirmed.

Shepard looked at Garrus, and they shared a nod. “That’s the plan,” she said with a grin.

“Then you’ll hear the whole story soon enough,” Miranda assured them. “Oh, good, looks like we’re ready to go.”

“Where are you staying, by the way?” Garrus asked curiously as they returned to the shuttle bay to see her off. “I hear space on the Citadel is at a premium with all the refugees coming in.”

“An apartment in the Huerta Memorial annex,” she replied. “It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable enough. And it's very secure.”

“Whoa, you must have had to call in a favor to snag one of those,” Shepard guessed.

“It was quite simple, actually,” Miranda explained, “Considering that my husband is a patient at the hospital.”

Garrus nearly gasped in surprise- but Shepard beat him to it. “Your WHAT?” She shrieked at their former XO.

Miranda gave a sly wink as she took the loaded transport cart from Mordin, then quickly made her way to the exit. "Mr. Tannor Nuara is very eager to reconnect, Commander,” she said on her way out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a delivery to make.”

They stared wordlessly after their former XO as she disembarked.

“She means Thane, right?” Garrus finally guessed aloud.

"If it’s literally anyone else, I will slap her in the face," Shepard joked(?).

Garrus chuckled. "Do you think he's doing alright?"

"I hope so," she said. "Something tells me Miranda would be acting a lot differently if he wasn’t."

"Makes sense."

Shepard put her hands on her hips and grinned. "It feels so great to be excited about something!"

"Can't take these moments for granted," Garrus agreed with a nod. Damn, it was good to see her smiling again!

Unfortunately... it didn't last.

Because later that day, Shepard would abruptly dismiss him, Javik, and Liara from her quarters without an explanation. She seemed surprised, and angry, and terrified by something the Prothean had said or done.

Garrus messaged her afterward, asking if she was alright, and if she wanted to talk.

But, she didn't respond...

Maybe she just... fell asleep?

Chapter Text

James

While they were docked at the Citadel, Primarch Victus decided that he wanted to tour the turian refugee camps.

It was obvious to James that Shepard and Vakarian weren’t thrilled at the idea. C-Sec was already stretched past its limit, they reminded him- and they didn’t have the resources to ensure proper protocols were in place to receive a diplomat of Victus’ rank.

But the primarch had insisted; so Shepard insisted that she and Vakarian accompany him. She also asked James to come along and help provide some semblance of a security detail.

Seemed simple enough.

“You’re sure about this, sir?” Vakarian asked as the four of them disembarked.

“They need to know that Palaven hasn’t forgotten them,” Victus answered staunchly.

Nice, James thought to himself with approval. Victus was a solid leader. The more he got to know him, the more he liked the guy.

“Then let’s make the most of our time here,” said Shepard. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

James wasn’t sure what to expect when they started their tour in the Wards. Before the war, he’d only been a few times, but he remembered a lively atmosphere with bustling markets and flashy ads.

But now he hardly recognized it; and as he took in the haphazard, ramshackle state of the place- he wondered if he'd ever seen a more heartbreaking sight.

Dios, he thought. These people were fucking shook. And it seemed that even the Keepers couldn’t keep up with the constant mess of desperate living. Debris littered the ground from wall to wall, and deconstructed prefabs were shoved into every corner as broken families huddled together in exhaustion and despair.

James could only imagine what they’d been through, and he wondered if he’d be able to keep up a positive attitude after a whole day of this.

But, Victus was right- once word got around that the Primarch of Palaven was in their district, the turian refugees seemed to transform before their very eyes. As their primarch addressed his shattered populace with inspiring speeches, they stood up a little straighter. They looked at their neighbors with kinship instead of fear. And they seemed to remember that they were all still a part of something important; something worth living for. 

Something worth fighting for.

It was enough for James to leave each district with a genuine smile on his face. With leaders like Adrien Victus, maybe the future of the galaxy wasn’t as bleak as they feared.

Their last stop of the day was Dock E24. James wondered how many kilometers they must have walked since they began that morning, and he made a mental note to stretch his legs and loosen up a little before collapsing into his bunk later. He noticed the others looking equally weary as they pushed on.

Suddenly, they were intercepted by an asari. “Commander Shepard!” She exclaimed as she approached them. 

Hmm, James thought; she looked familiar. Where had he seen her before?

Shepard visibly tensed. “Ambassador Kho,” she greeted her coolly.

Of course, James realized. She was the prosecutor at Shepard’s trial on Earth. Ambassador Darla Kho had been representing the batarians, and sought to have Shepard extradited to Kar’Shan to face justice for destroying the Bahak system.

Things sure had changed since then.

“It’s just ‘Darla,’ now,” she corrected the commander. “The Hegemony is...” She paused and cleared her throat. “Well, I’m certainly not an ambassador any longer.”

Shepard narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but didn’t comment.

“I hope there are no hard feelings?” The asari ventured tentatively.

“I don’t know,” the commander replied. “Just a few weeks ago, you were hell bent on ruining my life.”

Darla’s expression tightened. “I was just doing my job, Commander.”

Shepard frowned. “Yeah. And your job was to ruin my life.”

“I was doing the best I could with what I knew,” she argued. “Surely you understand?”

“It’s not my fault you wouldn’t believe my testimony,” Shepard countered.

The asari lowered her gaze. “For what it’s worth,” she said, “I believe you now.”

Shepard crossed her arms. “Was there something I can do for you?”

The asari took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said. “You’re a Spectre- and I need your help.”

“I see,” Shepard replied. James could swear she was struggling to remain polite. No doubt she wanted to control her attitude while in the company of the primarch.

“A caravan of refugees just got here,” the asari went on to explain, “But C-Sec won’t let them dock.”

“I’m not surprised there’s a wait,” Vakarian piped up. “Docking space is in short supply.”

“No, I mean they won’t even let them disembark,” she clarified. “They say there’s not enough room- but they’re lying. They won't let them in because they’re batarians.”

Shepard shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe there’s more space at another dock?” She suggested.

“I’ve been everywhere,” Darla said. “This dock is the only option.”

James looked around, and realized the asari was probably right. E-24 wasn’t nearly as crowded as the other districts they’d been to that day.

“Please, Commander,” she continued. “They’ve been on the run since the Reapers invaded. They need supplies, and medical attention. Hell, they just need a place to stop and breathe.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shepard granted her, “But what are you expecting me to do about it?”

“You can talk to C-Sec,” she begged her. “Please.”

James remembered that as a Spectre, Shepard had the authority to intervene in these kinds of situations. C-Sec would have to honor her orders, as long as they were legal(ish).

Shepard sighed, then turned to Victus and Vakarian. “Do you two want to go on ahead while I look into this?” She asked them.

“We’ll be at the far end of the dock,” the primarch agreed. His voice had become hoarse and fatigued from speaking all day.

“See you soon,” Vakarian bade her as they turned to leave.

Shepard beckoned for Darla Kho to lead the way, then leaned in to speak to James out of earshot. “I’m not very popular with batarians,” she said. “Keep an eye out for anything shady, yeah?”

“You got it, Commander,” he agreed with a nod. Then they followed Darla to the checkpoint station for arrivals.

The turian C-Sec agent was visibly annoyed as the three of them cut the line. “You,” he said to the asari as they approached, “I already told you no. I don’t have time for this.”

“Commander Shepard wants to speak to you,” she countered smugly as she moved aside.

Shepard took a reluctant step forward. “What’s the situation here, Officer?”

“I already explained to your friend,” he said. “There’s no room for another camp at this dock.”

Shepard frowned and gestured around them. “I’ve been to a lot of districts today,” she said, “And this is one of the least crowded by far.”

The agent sighed with impatience. “Look, you don’t understand. I’d have to put them in the same cargo hold as the turians. That’s just asking for trouble. I don’t have enough men to keep them in line.”

“I already told you, these are civilians!” Darla argued. “There are elderly aboard- there are children- and they’re not going to be starting fights!”

He ignored the asari’s outburst, only looking at Shepard. “Commander, you know how it is,” he said. “I’m not saying the batarians would be the only ones starting shit- I’m saying we have to be careful with this many desperate people in one place.”

Shepard was silent for a moment as she seemed to consider the situation.

James didn’t envy her position. Both the asari and the turian had a point, and whatever she decided to do- someone was going to end up being pissed off.

“You’re right that we need to be careful,” she finally agreed. “It’s critical that we keep order and prioritize the greater good. And I’m sure it’s... challenging for people whose homeworlds don't embrace that kind of culture.”

“Exactly!” The agent nodded emphatically, “We can’t just-”

“But the turians know all about it,” she cut him off with a hard glare. “In fact, I’m sure the other species are going to be looking to you as an example, to show them how it’s done. Don’t you think so?”

The agent said nothing, and stared at her in stunned silence. He clearly wasn’t expecting her to say that!

“I know it won’t be easy,” Shepard went on, “But something tells me that the turians are up for the challenge. Would you agree?”

After another tense pause, the agent finally cleared his throat. “I... they are,” he assured her. “We are.”

Shepard turned to James. “I’ll update the primarch,” she told him. “Go on and help Ms. Kho escort the refugees safely through the docks.”

He nodded, impressed by her handling of the situation. Shepard could be a real hothead, but she also had a way of inspiring people to do the right thing. “Aye aye, Commander,” he said as the asari thanked the goddess and showed him the way.

The former ambassador had been telling the truth- these batarians clearly weren’t a threat to anyone. James spotted a few able-bodied men among them; but otherwise, most of them were either very old, very young, or very sick.

James also realized that before now, he’d never laid eyes on batarian women or children.

He was pretty sure he could tell the women apart by their smaller stature and softer shape- but to James, they mostly just looked like the men. Kind of like humans, he supposed. Er, from an alien point of view, that is!

The children, on the other hand, were a big surprise. 

They were actually cute. 

Like, alarmingly cute.

They were recognizable enough as small batarians, he decided- their four black eyes wide and shiny with fear as they quietly clung to their guardians. But as he got a closer look, he realized they were covered in what looked like soft, downy fur. James assumed they must shed it when they reach adulthood- but as kids, they looked downright cuddly.

Seriously, these little guys were adorable.

He noticed one that was being carried by a batarian woman. The child clearly didn’t want to be held anymore, and began to struggle in her arms. She let out an impatient sigh as she put him (or her) down. As she did so, her travel bag slipped off her shoulder and fell to the ground.

“I got it,” James offered as he reached to pick it up.

The woman stared at him in suspicion, but she didn’t object. “Thank you,” she muttered as they got going again.

He nodded toward the child that now eyed him warily while they made their way across the dock. “Cute kid,” he said, trying to be friendly.

She didn’t respond right away while she stared numbly ahead. “He’s my grandson,” she finally said.

James nearly asked where the parents were, but caught himself as he realized what a bone-headed question that would be. “It’s good that you brought him here,” he told her instead.

“I didn’t have any say in where we went,” she admitted. “But after six months of insanity, I don’t much care where we end up.”

“Six months?” James echoed with confusion.

She sighed. “We were supposed to be on Aratoht,” she explained bitterly. “But, our flight home from Kar’Shan had been delayed. If it hadn’t been...”

Then they would have been destroyed along with the relay, James thought.

“Never mattered anyway,” she said. “We have no future, human. Your homeworld has fallen too- so you should know what I mean.”

James winced, and worried that his attempt at small talk might have been a mistake. “I’m sorry,” he said, “But I’m not ready to give up on Earth. I plan to keep fighting.”

She reached for her bag, and he gave it back to her. “Then I’ll leave you to it,” she said. Then she put a hand out to her grandson. “Come on, Bram, let’s find somewhere quiet to sit down.”

James gave the little guy a wink and a tiny salute before moving on. “Nice to meet you, Bram,” he said with a grin.

But the child only stared back in silence as his grandmother led him away.

Chapter Text

You won’t find a leader with more deeds of ‘derring-do’ than Commander Shepard. And I would know- I’ve never treated more injuries on a single person in my entire career. 

-Dr. Karin Chakwas

Shepard

“Commander Shepard,” Dr. Chakwas’ voice came in through her com, “Is now a good time?”

Shepard winced. No, it was not a good time- she was in the middle of aimless brooding right now. “Yeah, come on up,” she made herself answer.

The doctor had insisted that Commander Shepard was due for a proper medical checkup. With everything going on, she’d said, it was best to stay vigilant about her health. A thorough scan of Shepard’s baseline stats (while she wasn’t injured or unconscious) was allegedly going to help with that.

Of course, the doctor was probably right... but Shepard didn't want a checkup. She wanted to brood and feel sorry for herself. She didn’t want to be studied and examined for shit that might be going wrong. The world was probably ending, anyway- so what did it matter?

Don’t be stupid, she scolded herself. She knew she was being unreasonable. What kind of example would she be setting for her crew if she avoided the doctor? 

But she found herself looking for excuses to get out of it anyway; And she really thought she’d be off the hook when she pointed out their trickiest obstacle: Eve. Shouldn’t they stay out of the medbay, Shepard argued? Shouldn’t they delay any procedures that were non-invasive and/or non-critical?

But, Chakwas assured her that anything ‘non-invasive and/or non-critical’ could be administered in the comfort of her quarters.

Dang it.

The doctor smiled warmly when she arrived at the cabin, but Shepard couldn’t bring herself to respond in kind. “Tell me the truth,” she said, “Did Garrus tell you to push me for a checkup?”

Chakwas hesitated, then straightened her posture and glared at Shepard with a look that landed somewhere between amusement and disapproval. “Should he not have?” She finally said.

Shepard sighed, but beckoned for her to come in just the same.

“He’s not the only one who’s worried about you, Commander,” she said as she unpacked her med kit in the sitting area. “And remember, we’re back in the Alliance now; when it comes to medical matters, I’m the only one on this ship with more authority than you.”

Shepard cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, what if I just... refused treatment, or something?” She mused awkwardly. She didn't intend to do any such thing, but she was feeling petulant. And... she was also a little curious as to what the doctor’s answer would be.

Chakwas shrugged. “Then I'll have to resort to force,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You could fight back, but I should warn you that I'm stronger than I look.”

Shepard forced a chuckle, then sat down and allowed herself to be examined. She tried to relax and clear her head while the doctor began her scans.

“How’s your shoulder doing?” Chakwas asked her.

“A little stiff,” Shepard admitted as she rolled her right shoulder. She’d dislocated it while they were on Sur-Kesh. “But, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The doctor nodded with approval. “And when did you notice your scars becoming agitated again?” She asked her next.

Shepard instinctively touched her face. Before her trial on Earth, the Alliance had sprung for a few cosmetic procedures to clean up her scars. But apparently, the results were only temporary; The dim red glow of her cybernetics had begun to peek through again. “A few nights ago,” she admitted with a sigh. “I got up to go to the bathroom and caught my reflection in the dark. Scared the shit out of myself.”

Dr. Chakwas nodded, then cleared her throat. “And... how are you sleeping?”

Ah, now there was the question Shepard had been dreading. “Not great,” she admitted carefully. “But, I’m sure I’m not the only one tossing and turning lately.”

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. “Honestly, Commander, anything short of chronic insomnia is good news these days.”

Shepard let out a breath of relief, grateful that Chakwas didn’t press her for more details.

Because... she wasn't ready to talk about the nightmares. 

Not even with her doctor.

And not even with Garrus. 

As far back as she could remember, Shepard had always been a vivid dreamer.

When she was a kid, she'd corner her parents in the morning, and regale them with a play-by-play of her weird and wacky experiences from the night before.

“I was looking for the moon at the bottom of the ocean,” Little Shepard would report, “I could breathe underwater, and the ocean was purple. What does it mean?”

“I think it depends on which moon it was,” her dad would tease her.

“I think it also depends on how much sugar you had before bed,” Mom would add with a wry grin.

It was fun. She liked having stories to tell, and she liked the attention from her parents. She often looked forward to the new adventures waiting for her each night.

Unfortunately (and predictably), after the raid...  there were only nightmares. Persistent, disruptive, wake-up-screaming nightmares. At first, it was always about Mindoir; but the themes and details of the dreams morphed over time as she collected new traumas. And while they occasionally tapered off, they never disappeared completely. Plus, they always made a hell of a comeback when she was especially stressed out.

Of course, since the Reapers came, they’d been worse than ever. In fact...

They’d begun to seep into her waking life.

Shepard knew she should tell someone; hallucinations were never a good sign. Hell, she wanted to at least tell Garrus, but... when she tried to, the words caught in her throat. She just... couldn’t.

Because... speaking about it out loud would make it real.

And then, it would be a Thing. 

And she was not ready for that- not by a long shot. No more Things, please. She was already juggling way too many Things.  

So, she tried to ignore it. And honestly, it usually worked. She was fine. Well... maybe not fine...  but she was definitely functional.  

Although maybe she wasn't handling it as well as she thought if Garrus had spoken to the doctor about it. Maybe all her dismissive “Don't worry, I'm fine” s weren’t as convincing as she’d hoped.

She wondered how much longer she could keep up the charade. Because, as difficult as it was to accept... the ‘waking dreams’ were becoming more frequent, and harder to ignore. 

Sure enough, as the doctor packed up her kit and bade her goodbye, Shepard heard it; It came from behind her. It was faint, but unmistakable. She didn't have to turn around. She already knew what it was:

It was the child.

The child... that lately, always seemed to haunt her lowest moments.

The child that never stopped crying for his papa.

The child that she knew wasn't actually there.

Chapter Text

James

Commander Shepard insisted that they had to keep the number of people ‘in the know’ about this hanar conspiracy to a minimum. So, James was now officially involved whether he wanted to be or not.

It wasn't a huge deal- he'd been undercover before. He knew how to keep his mouth shut, and he wasn't in the habit of spilling secrets.

But... the subterfuge part really sucked.

“You disembarking today?” Steve Cortez asked him.

“In about an hour,” he said. “Need anything while I'm at Huerta Memorial?”

“The hospital again?”

James froze. Damn, he hated having to lie to his buddy’s face! “Er, you know, I was just gonna... see how Alenko’s doing.”

Steve peered at him curiously. “Oh, yeah?”

“He's gonna be a Spectre, you know,” he added, wondering how that was supposed to make his frequent visits any less weird.

“I heard,” he said. “So, I guess you two are getting pretty, uh... close?”

James had to stifle a grimace at this annoying, inevitable misunderstanding. “Just trying to lend a friendly ear,” he said awkwardly. “He's been through a lot.”

Steve gave a slow, tentative nod.

“Hey, don't worry, Esteban,” he said as he put his hand up for a high five, "You're still my number one hombre!”

Steve smirked as he slapped his hand. “Lucky me,” he said with a chuckle.

I fucking hate subterfuge, James thought again to himself as he went to go prep for his day.

Shepard and Vakarian were already in the hospital room when James got there. “Hey, the gang’s all here!” Alenko announced when James walked in. He was up and out of his medical bed, wearing his Alliance fatigues. He seemed pretty much recovered!

“Looking good!” James noted. “I'm surprised you haven't been discharged yet.”

“Dr. Michel promised that if I pass my stress test today, she'll sign off," the major told them. "So, I could be out by supper time!”

“Then we should take you out to celebrate!” Shepard suggested. “Got a favorite restaurant?”

Alenko cocked his head. “Ever been to Vinny's?”

“I don't think so,” she replied.

“The place with Italian dumplings?” James remembered.

“That's the one,” he nodded. Then he gestured toward Vakarian. “They probably have dextro plates, too- but, if they don't, there are plenty of other places on the same block.”

“Wait," Shepard grimaced, "It's in the cafeteria?”

“You know we can take a car anywhere on the Citadel, right?” Garrus reminded him.

Alenko chuckled. “Look, I might not even pass my stress test,” he said, “So, this could all be moot.”

The doors hissed open, and Miranda Lawson- aka 'Uma Nuara'- entered the room.

“Fancy meeting you all here,” she greeted them wryly.

“We’ve gotta stop running into each other like this,” Garrus joked.

“It must be fate,” she said with a grin. “Ready to go?”

“Yup!” The commander chirped.

“Wait, Shepard,” Vakarian stopped her, “What are you doing?”

She chuckled as she snapped her fingers and shook her hips. “I think I'm dancing!” She said gleefully.

James couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. “The belle of the ball, ladies and gentlemen!” He teased her.

“Aaahh I can't help it! I'm so excited!”

“We’re in a hospital, Shepard,” Lawson reminded her with a smirk. “Try to look a little dour, won’t you?”

They said goodbye to the major, then filed out into the hall. But, instead of turning left to go to the lobby, they turned right- and Lawson escorted them through the hospital to the research wing. She had to engage with multiple biometric scans as they went along.

After many turns down many corridors, they arrived at their destination. Didn’t look like much to James- just some boring door in a boring hallway. 

Lawson tapped the panel to ring the chime, and the hanar’s voice came through the intercom a moment later. “Greetings,” he said, “This one requests your designation and objective.”

“This one patrols the shore,” Lawson replied, “In memory of the third moon.”

“We curse the raging tides in vain,” said the hanar.

“Beware the preying mouth of the shallow sea,” she concluded.

Then the doors opened, and they went inside.

As they entered the spacious laboratory, he noticed three people already inside.

Dr. Zenynder was one of them (James assumed- he still needed more practice recognizing individual hanar!). Mordin Solus was also present, studying a terminal alongside him.

There was also a drell, who stood expectantly with his hands pulled behind his back.

“Hey, there he is,” Vakarian drawled as they approached, “Good to see you, Krios.”

The drell smiled as they shook hands. “Likewise, old friend.”

James turned as the commander let out a strange, whispery squeak. He watched her fidget in place and clench her fists, in a futile attempt to control herself.

The drell chuckled, then put out his arms. “Alright, Commander,” he said, "Bring it in.”

“Not fair,” said Lawson as Shepard embraced the drell, “I didn't even get a warning!”

“James, this is Thane Krios,” Shepard introduced him when she pulled away. “Er, wait, what are you going by these days?”

“I am registered at the hospital as Tannor Nuara," he said. "And of course, you've already met my lovely wife, Uma.”

“I don’t mean to pry," Shepard looked at them with wide, hopeful eyes, "But are you guys like... married, married? Like, officially?”

The couple shared a knowing smile. “Well,” Miranda said, “Considering that we’re operating off the grid... I suppose this is as ‘official’ as it's going to get.”

James grinned, holding back a playful croon. “Hell, what’s in a name, anyway?” He said instead.

Thane gave a pleased smile and nodded in his direction. “Precisely.”

“But, what if someone comes looking for you?” Garrus asked with concern, “Is all this enough to stay hidden?”

“Not exactly,” Miranda granted him. “It’s a feigned cover.”

“A what?” Said Shepard.

“An espionage technique,” Thane explained. “The hospital is quite secure, but if someone knew where to look, it would not be impossible to track us down. So, should anyone investigate our situation, they would be quite underwhelmed by what they discover. Our intent is to appear as if we aren't worth the trouble.”

“So what would they ‘discover’ if they found you?” James asked.

“A disgraced assassin, hiding from his many enemies,” Thane answered, “In poor health from late stage Kepral's Syndrome. In fact, whenever I am outside the lab, I must appear weak- so I allow myself to be transported in a wheelchair.” Then he nodded to Miranda. “They would also also find an ex-Cerberus agent, who only wishes to care for her beloved in his last days. And, of course,” he gestured toward the hanar, “A doctor collecting data for a cure that will never happen in our lifetime.”

“A cover within a cover,” Garrus summed up. “Smart.”

“So what's the real story?” Shepard prompted him.

“It is all rooted in truth," Thane admitted. "I do have late stage Kepral's; But, thanks to Zenynder's genetic stabilization therapy, I am in fair health.” 

Miranda gently bumped him with her hip. “And his ‘beloved’ doesn't get to spend near as much time with him as she'd like,” she added with a smirk, “Because she's assisting the doctor- who is much closer to a cure than anyone can know.”

“But why does this all have to be such a secret?" James asked them. "Wouldn't curing Kepral's Syndrome be a good thing?”

Dr. Zenynder appeared beside them as if on cue. “Not to the separatist faction on Kahje,” he said, “Who secretly engineered the disease over a century ago.”

Oh, damn!

“Holy shit,” said Shepard. “Talk about a conspiracy, you guys weren't kidding!”

“I honestly did not see that coming,” added Garrus.

“And I know what you must be thinking, Commander,” said Thane. “Why would we continue to focus our efforts on such an operation, while the Reapers are invading the galaxy?”

Shepard couldn’t hold back a wince. “Er, no,” she stammered, “Uh... well, I guess I wasn't not thinking that...”

“Because, it's all connected,” Miranda quickly explained. “We believe that the leaders of this faction are indoctrinated- and have been for a very, very long time.”

Chapter Text

Garrus

As far as Garrus was concerned- no matter what crazy mission awaited them, or what either of them were dealing with personally- he knew that he and Shepard were a team. They got each other. They relied on each other's strengths, complimented each other's weaknesses, and respected each other's limits. Whether on or off the battlefield; when Shepard and Vakarian were together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, Garrus usually followed Shepard’s lead; but that’s because she was the commander. The Spectre. The hero.

Saving the galaxy was her job.

And it was Garrus’ job to watch her six as she charged ahead, and to catch her when she stumbled. To talk things through; to make her laugh.

It was the best job he'd ever had, and he liked to think he was getting pretty damn good at it.

But... he never considered that the day might come when it wouldn’t be enough.

Or, that he might somehow make things worse.

He sighed with contentment as he laid back on the bed in Shepard’s cabin. What a day!

She let out a breathless laugh as she collapsed beside him. “Oh, Garrus, I really needed this,” she confessed happily.

“Always here to help, Commander,” he joked as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. He reveled in the heat of her naked body, still flushed and warm from exertion, while his own body relaxed into a dreamy, blissful stupor. Damn, they’d gotten pretty good at this whole ‘interspecies liaison’ thing!

Shepard let out a long sigh of her own. “Today was a good day, right?” She mused as she rested her head on his cowl. “I mean, besides learning all that horrible shit about Kahje and Kepral's, and... you know... everything else.”  

“Well now, let’s see,” Garrus held her a little tighter, eager to reassure her. “We got to see some old friends, right?”

“That’s true,” she said. “I really hope we get a chance to do that again.”

“Plus, Alenko was discharged from the hospital,” he reminded her. “And then, you tried Italian dumplings for the first time.”

“Those were surprisingly delicious!”

“Oh, and I almost forgot,” he thrummed wryly, “We finally got a chance to relax and blow off a little steam.”

“Heh, yeah,” she agreed with a chuckle, “Just a little.”

“What was that, three times?” He goaded her.

She gave a bashful smile, then held up four fingers.

“Sounds like a pretty good day to me, Shepard.”

She covered her mouth and let out a wide yawn. “Yeah, okay,” she finally relented with a grin. “I’m convinced. This was a good day.”

A damn good day, he thought to himself as they drifted to sleep. 

It was about time.

Garrus startled awake.

What-?

Where-?

Right, he remembered as he got his bearings. He was still in Shepard’s cabin. He was groggy, and disoriented, as if he’d just been ripped from a deep sleep. What woke him up?

“Hmn,” Shepard suddenly grunted. Her body twitched and tensed. “Nnnn... no...”

She’s having a nightmare, he realized. Should he try to wake her?

“Please... no.... no...”

He had to do something. “Shepard,” he whispered gently. He put a hand on her arm- her skin was clammy, and she was trembling. “Hey, it’s okay...”

“No,” she whimpered.

“Shepard-”

“NOOOO!!” She screamed as she thrashed awake.

Garrus tried to reach for her- but a flash of blue light suddenly snapped across his vision.

Followed by Shepard’s fist.

Then, nothing.

Chapter Text

Personal Log: Dr. Mordin Solus

Supplemental Audio Notes

Transcribed Excerpts

[Sigh]. At last. Have not had a moment alone since... hmm, since before Reapers invaded. Peace and quiet unnerving, really. Can’t help but anticipate next inevitable disaster. But, cannot take these moments for granted. Must take time to process, to reflect. Otherwise, less prepared for next inevitable disaster.

Good to be on Normandy again. Alliance crew of excellent caliber. Pleased to reconnect with Shepard, Chakwas, Vakarian, EDI; even Joker.

Urdnot Wrex is... the same as I remember.

New notable acquaintanceships as well: 

Primarch of Palaven. Impressed by Victus' leadership. Never sought primacy, never wanted it. But, has answered the call with all he has to give.

Javik the Prothean. Ancient. Impatient. Dissatisfied. But, also curious and adaptive. Fascinating. Am working up the nerve to request a DNA sample.

Indeed, Commander Shepard’s ship is once again home to the galaxy’s most eclectic company, as well as state of the art technology. Can think of nowhere better to work.

And, can think of nowhere safer to treat the female.

[Sigh]. Have indulged in enough reflection for today. Must get back to patient.

.....................................

Patient comfortably situated in Starboard Observation. If she remains stable for next seventy-six hours, will begin synthesizing cure. Must ensure that she can survive procedure, as it will likely require multiple attempts.

Have attached chart for later reference.

.....................................

Critical update: Eve will not survive without more aggressive intervention.

Have reviewed Maelon’s research again. His approach was heavily informed by theory of Genetic Equilibrium. Field has expanded since first contact with Earth, as there was a demand for genetic stabilization therapy (GST) to treat humans for overexposure to element zero. 

Point being: Maelon discovered a correlation in treatment modalities worth investigating. Am quite confident that GST will result in promising prognosis for the female.

But... Have never administered GST myself. Cannot risk patient health with my inexperience. Must endure wounded ego, and seek a second opinion.

Otherwise, could get it wrong.

Have attached chart for later reference.

.....................................

Must confess, am growing especially fond of patient. Of Eve.

Accepts pain and uncertainty without complaint. Expresses gratitude. Enjoys my singing. Her company... always a pleasure.

In contrast, while collecting chromosomal sample from Wrex, had to endure aggressive threats and insults. Procedure simple; painless; but he could not tolerate vulnerability in front of a salarian doctor. Textbook example of toxic krogan pride.

Perhaps a sexist opinion, but... prefer females of the species. 

.....................................

Fortunate to have made contact with leading expert on genetic stabilization. At first, Dr. Zenynder would not agree to collaborate. Seems slow to trust. Insisted his expertise was limited to Kepral’s Syndrome. Was unreceptive to assertions that GST is applicable to genophage. Refused to become involved.

Until he agreed to review Maelon’s findings.

Was suddenly very eager to learn more.

Sent relevant excerpts over subspace for Zenynder's perusal; soon after, was contacted by Miranda Lawson. Quite unexpected, but a pleasant surprise, nonetheless. Ms. Lawson has been working closely with Dr. Zenynder for several months, and vouched for my intentions when she was informed of our situation.

Will arrive at the Citadel in a matter of days. Must proceed with caution. 

Can be no mistakes.

.....................................

First round of GST complete, with Zenynder’s assistance. Eve is stable, and improving by the hour.

Have attached chart for later reference.

.....................................

Interesting species, the Hanar. Have always been intrigued by their complex social identities; face-names versus soul-names; etcetera.

Am particularly fascinated by hanar gender theory: Four genders; sorted over a quaternary spectrum; fluid; context specific; constantly changing, depending on personal and professional relationships. Intricacies not well understood by outsiders, as hanar almost always present as ‘male’ in relation to aliens.  

Ahem. I digress.

Disembarked today to visit Zenynder’s lab. Good to see Mr. Krios in fair health, responding well to GST. Unfortunately, cordial reunion overshadowed by disturbing revelations. Still processing implications. May need to talk through it again.

[Sigh]. From the beginning:

Two hundred years ago, the hanar made first contact with the drell.

Rakhana- the drell homeworld- was already in crisis. Centuries of unregulated industrial expansion resulted in unsustainable population; limited resources. The drell would not survive another hundred years on their own.

But the hanar government intervened. Evacuated hundreds of thousands of drell to Kahje. Saved them from extinction.

Unfortunately- and, predictably- resulted in complications for hanar society.

To their credit, majority of hanar welcomed the drell. But, not all were so keen to share their homeworld. Opposition ranged from reasonable concerns- such as economic disruption and public health- to ugly, unapologetic bigotry.

The Compact was the compromise that finally facilitated societal integration. In exchange for their service, the drell would become legally protected citizens under Kahje’s government.

However... for some, the agreement was unacceptable.

A separatist faction of extremists emerged soon after. Their mission: to return Kahje to its ‘golden age,’ before the drell arrived. Their movement is often referred to as ‘Makga.' 

Within decades of integration, Kepral’s Syndrome began to manifest among the drell. Kahje’s scientific community determined it to be an unfortunate consequence to their planet’s humid climate. All known attempts to develop effective treatments were unsuccessful.

Then, twenty years ago, while analyzing a survey on xenovirology, Dr. Zenynder arrived at a startling conclusion: Kepral’s was not a naturally occurring syndrome. Result of genetic sabotage. A virus that affected the DNA of all drell on Kahje. Subtle mutation eroded the capacity for lungs to take in oxygen. Effects exacerbated by humid climate. Terminal prognosis.

Zenynder is certain he is not the first to discover this conspiracy, but strongly suspects that anyone working toward the cure has been effectively silenced. Or even... disappeared.

Because, unfortunately, Makga still exists to this day. Worse, they seem to have infiltrated the Illuminated Primacy- Kahje’s current government- at the highest levels.

Therefore, Zenynder worked in secret. His published findings indicate unimpressive progress. Could not share actual results with anyone. Not even with his colleagues. Not even with his patients.

For decades, he told no one.

Until one day, just over five months ago, he was confronted by Miranda Lawson to share the truth of what he knew. Indeed, our former Cerberus operative can be quite... convincing.

Was sure to ask Lawson how she knew to approach Zenynder in the first place. She reported having received a vague, anonymous tip before the Normandy traversed the Omega 4 relay. Source of intel still unknown.

Curious.

[Sigh]. Getting late. Must review Eve’s vitals before turning in for the night.

Will attach chart for later reference.

.....................................

Zenynder believes the leaders of Makga are indoctrinated. Since the destruction of Bahak relay, timing of certain political machinations has been far too precise to be coincidence. But, no concrete evidence available. No proof of Reaper indoctrination; as per usual.

It was Lawson who suggested they enlist a trustworthy Spectre for help. Unfortunately, Commander Shepard was in Alliance custody at the time, so they would need to find someone else who could be discreet, effective, and sympathetic to their cause.

Eventually, they opted to send their findings to Jondum Bau; experienced STG agent, currently a decorated Spectre. A fine choice.

Bau agreed to investigate. And what he found was worse than anyone could have imagined.

Discovered evidence of a dastardly plan, orchestrated by Makga, to surrender drell population to the Reapers without a fight. In exchange, Kahje would be allowed to exist in servitude- under Makga’s fascist rule, of course. These imbeciles believe they will be spared from the harvest. Loathsome cowards. Traitorous fools.

Bau has since determined that events on Kahje are already in motion, though logistics are still a mystery. If extremists are to be stopped, their conspirators must be identified and interrogated before their plan comes to fruition.

And there is only one lead: A list of soul-names; a secret ledger of Makga’s leaders. It exists for coordinating propaganda, and for unifying messaging. And for blackmail, of course.

Problem: Codex linking soul-names with face-names heavily encrypted. Citadel authority would allow a Spectre to demand information, but doing so would alert the enemy of intentions. Lead would be lost. Must somehow obtain codex in secret, without their knowledge.

Hm...

...

Hmmm...

Perhaps... there is another approach that should be considered.

Indeed... perhaps this isn’t a job for a Spectre.

No.

Perhaps, what we need... is a thief.

Chapter Text

Javik

“Enter,” Javik responded to the chime at his door. He was expecting the asari to return at any moment to resume their work on the Crucible project.

“A-are you sure?” He heard her meek, muffled voice inquire from the other side of the door.

He sighed. “Yes. Enter.”

“I just- I just want to make sure.”

He grumbled in annoyance before walking to the panel and opening the door himself.

The asari gasped and averted her gaze. “I’m sorry!”

He frowned and resisted the urge to clench his fists. These primitives and their anxiety! He wanted to grab them by the arms and just... shake them, as hard as he could, until they came to their senses!

Instead, he graciously stepped aside. “Enter,” he repeated one more time, with all the patience he could muster.

“I’m sorry,” she said again as she obeyed.

“Enough,” he admonished her sharply. “Are you traumatized by what happened?”

She grimaced, but did not meet his gaze. “I’m embarrassed,” she admitted.

Still? “I’m sure you will recover,” he insisted. “Eventually.”

She tilted her head and shrugged her shoulders in some awkward, vague acknowledgement. “I’m... sure I will,” she granted him. “Um, let’s just get to work.”

He resisted the impulse to sigh and roll his eyes. He reminded himself that he must endure many awkward situations like these in this new cycle. He might as well get used to it.

Primitives, he thought snidely to himself before forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

He'd gasped upon waking earlier that morning.

Another nightmare.

Fifty thousand years, and not a single dream. But now, every night was the same: Abominations. Desecration. Genocide.

He could certainly do without them.

His alarm sounded off a moment later. As he pushed himself up from his cot, he stumbled- and grunted in pain as he stubbed his foot against a crate.

Ah, so it was to be one of those days. 

Again.

He made his way to the port lounge, where Commander Shepard had asked him to meet her. Thankfully, when he arrived, she didn't ask him to sit.

“I get the sense you don't like sitting down with other people,” she said, noting the obvious.

“For Protheans,” he explained patiently, “To let your guard down in such a manner is reserved only for our closest relations.”

“It's neutral in human culture,” she said. “I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

He nodded. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”

“Well, first, do you need to take any time with my, uh...” She cleared her throat and tapped the side of her temple, “My Knowing?”

He regarded her for a moment. He didn’t even need to touch her to understand that she was irritable, weary, and frustrated. Perhaps she was also having ‘one of those days.’

At any rate, he did not want to commune with her Knowing in such a turbulent state. “Not today,” he replied simply.

“Okay,” she nodded. “There are a few things I want to go over with you. And they’re kind of... uncomfortable topics.”

“You wish to discuss your vision?” He presumed. “The child?”

She balked. “No,” she replied curtly, “No, I do not wish to discuss that. Please don't bring it up again.”

“Very well," he said. "What, then?”

“I, uh, need you to integrate with the team as best you can, so... well, I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Indeed.”

She hesitated again. “So... I've gotta... address a few things...”

He sighed impatiently. “Commander, you have said the same thing three times with different words.”

“Complaints,” she finally admitted. “I need to address some complaints that I’ve received... about you.”

He supposed this was inevitable. “I will hear what you have to say.”

“I'm told that you've been getting to know people- which is great,” she assured him quickly. “Everyone's very glad to meet you. But...” 

“...But?”

“But... they're a little thrown off by how you end conversations. They say you just... leave.”

He peered at her in confusion, unsure what the problem was supposed to be. “Yes, that is true,” he confirmed.

“Okay, well, do you think maybe you could... say something before you walk away?” She asked him.

He shrugged. “Like what?”

She shrugged as well. “How about... 'goodbye'?”

“We live on the same ship,” he reminded her. “Shall I also give a farewell salute?”

“I'm just asking for some kind of acknowledgement when you're disengaging with people. It's polite.”

“What do you suggest, Commander?”

She tilted her head in thought. "Let's keep it simple," she said. "How about: I should go.”

“...I should go?”

“Well, maybe more like... I should go. Er, I should go. No, wait-” she cut herself off as her face twisted in frustration. “I mean- I should... go? Fuck, why does it suddenly sound so weird when I say it?”

“I believe I understand,” he assured her. This was becoming needlessly drawn out. “I will practice this custom.”

“Okay,” she let out a long breath. “There's just... one more thing.”

He waited for her to continue.

She cleared her throat. “There’s been an issue about... an odor.”

“What odor?”

“Um... your odor. I, uh, don't know anything about Prothean hygiene, but is there anything you need to... wash?”

“Unnecessary,” he insisted. “I have not fought- I have not bled- I have not even left the ship.”

“Javik,” she sighed and crossed her arms. “You stink. And it's really distracting.”

He wanted to laugh. All this fuss over a smell? “Surely you are exaggerating.”

“Well, I’m not," she countered. "It's a problem. And the solution is that either the whole crew has to wear nasal filters, or one guy has to scrub his pits.”

“Is that so?” His lip curled into an amused smirk. “The whole crew?”

“Well... the humans would, anyway,” she clarified with a shrug.

"You seem unbothered,” he pointed out.

“Because I’m wearing filters right now,” she explained with an amused smirk of her own.

He allowed himself a short chuckle. “Very well,” he relented, “I will wash so that you primitives are less... distracted.”

She uncrossed her arms. “Okay, thanks,” she said. “I guess that’s all I have for you. Sorry for the awkward conversation, is there anything-”

“I should go,” he made sure to announce before turning to leave.

The commander sighed. “Perfect,” she granted him dully as he walked away. “Well done. No notes.”

Primitives, he thought as the door closed behind him.

When he was back in his room, he finally took off his armor for the first time since waking from stasis.

And as he did so, he realized the commander was right; he was well overdue for a wash! He may have been too quick to argue with her. 

He should try to remember that going forward.

The shock of air against his skin wasn't as sharp as he expected. Perhaps he'd adapted better to this environment than he realized. He leaned over the water basin and rinsed his arms. Then, he soaked his towel and went to work down the rest of his body.

I am still myself, he thought with relief. A part of him wondered if his body would somehow be... different. Nothing else in this cycle was as he remembered it, after all; and, since communing with Commander Shepard, he didn’t even perceive the world around him quite like he used to. It was as if he now wore a tinted lens over his eyes- one that muted certain colors, and enhanced others.

Thankfully, he could see well enough through this ‘lens’ that he was still Prothean. 

Even if he was the only Prothean.

He was nearly finished when he heard a chime at his door. He wondered who it could be. “Enter,” he said.

The asari stepped inside with a stack of data pads in her hands. It seemed she had more materials for him to read. He struggled not to sigh in annoyance at the prospect.

“I was hoping you’d be able to- OH!” She yelped as dropped the pads at her feet with a loud clatter, “OH GODDESS!!!”

“Agh,” he winced in alarm at her outburst, “What is it?”

“You- you-” she sputtered as she backed up, lost her footing, and tumbled to the ground. “Goddess!” She exclaimed again.

He took an uncertain step toward her. “What is the matter with you?” He asked her.

“Why are you naked?!” She demanded frantically. She struggled to retrieve the scattered data pads on her hands and knees without looking in his direction.

He looked between the asari and the water basin in confusion. “Is there another way to wash oneself in this cycle?”

“That’s not what I meant!” She exclaimed.

He scoffed. “Until you explain further, I can only guess what you meant.”

She finally stood up, but was still unable to meet his eye. “I just- it’s just that- well- nudity...  I mean, professional nudity...  er, sorry, I mean unexpected nudity in a professional- oh, goddess!” She declared once more, “This is highly inappropriate!” 

Javik was speechless for a moment. “You are offended that I am washing myself?” He finally said incredulously.

“I’m not- Javik, you weren’t supposed to let me in,” she clarified as she continued to stare at the ground. 

He sighed in exasperation, wondering how many other mundane tasks he would have to actively hide from these primitives. Was he meant to lock the door while eating, as well?

“I, I’m sorry,” she said, “Why don’t I just... come back in an hour... and you’ll be... dressed. Is that alright?”

He shrugged. “Yes, if you wish.”

“Okay!” She yelped before bolting out of the room.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the hour wasn’t quite enough. Javik was now fully dressed, but the asari still couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye.

Not that it mattered to him, it was just... bewildering.

“We may have run into a problem decrypting part of the Crucible plans,” she said as she pulled up the blueprints at the terminal. “I know it’s not your expertise, but I’m hoping you can at least tell us-”

She stopped speaking when there was a sudden chime at his door.

Who is it now? Javik wondered. “Enter,” he said.

The door opened, and the turian stepped inside.

“Garrus?” Said the asari with surprise.

But the turian did not acknowledge her, and looked only at Javik. “What's going on with Shepard?” He demanded, “What exactly did you see in her ‘Knowing’?”

Javik regarded him coolly for a moment as he decided how to respond. “If she has not told you," he finally said, "Then neither will I. She is my commander now, and her secrets are not mine to tell.”

The turian’s expression darkened into a hard scowl. “Tell me what’s going on,” he said as he took a threatening step forward. “Or we are about to have a big problem.”

Chapter Text

Garrus

“She’s been quiet lately,” said Wrex as they stood outside the medbay once again. “Wouldn’t usually bother me, but with all this ‘genetic therapy’ shit... I dunno.”

Garrus tried not to roll his eyes. Again with the fussing, he thought. “Mordin says she’s doing great,” he reminded him instead.

“Ugh, the salarian,” Wrex groaned. “With his little scalpel... collecting samples... he’s so creepy!”

Shepard cleared her throat and glared at the krogan in annoyance. “Aww, did Mordin cut your quad, Wrex?” She prompted him snidely, “Is that what you're trying to tell us?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds fucking precious.”

She let out a short, dismissive chuckle. “Bet it hurt, huh?” She goaded him.

“Eh, not really,” he admitted. “It’s a little sore now, but-”

“You know what?” Shepard suddenly cut him off, “I haven't heard Eve complain about anything. Ever. Not once.”

Garrus tensed; Yikes, he thought, Wrex must have hit a nerve. He eyed the krogan warily and wondered how he would respond.

But Wrex just shrugged. “I mean, yeah, she’s-”

“Do you have any idea what she’s going through?” Shepard demanded, “What she has to bear? Every single day?”

“That’s not what-”

“Ugh, I can’t listen to this anymore!” She huffed, “Boo hoo, my girlfriend won’t talk to me! Wah, wah, my quad hurts! Ever since you came aboard, it’s just been ‘wah, wah, waaahhh’ with you, Wrex!”

The krogan’s expression darkened. “You’d better check yourself, Shepard,” he warned her.

“Oh, grow up,” she spat before she stormed off toward the lift.

Garrus held back a sigh. Shepard seemed vaguely pissed about everything the last few days; Apparently it was just bubbling under the surface, waiting to boil over any minute. He really wished she would talk to him about it... but she kept brushing him off any time he asked. She was being even more stubborn than usual.

“That... was so mean,” Wrex said after an awkward pause. “What the hell is her problem?”

Garrus nearly said, “She just told you,” but then quickly decided he’d been beat on enough for one week. 

He instinctively flexed his jaw at the memory from two nights prior, when Shepard thrashed awake from a nightmare, and literally knocked him out.

He’d tried to reassure her that it wasn’t that big of a deal. A little medigel, and he was good as new. Okay, sure- he had a new crack on his faceplate that might linger into old age (if he made it that far), but it was otherwise nothing to worry about. He was just relieved that she missed his mandible- she might have shattered it. 

But (of course), Shepard was horrified with herself. “You can’t sleep with me right now,” she insisted as she stood before him in the battery, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“You just took me by surprise, is all,” he tried to explain.

She hung her head. “I’m sorry, Garrus... but it’s out of the question.” 

A part of him wanted to keep pushing back- to argue with her- but he was pretty sure that would just screw things up even worse.

He had no idea what to say.

“I need to figure this out,” she went on. “I will figure this out. But, in the meantime...”

“Shepard,” he finally said, “It doesn’t matter where I sleep- you don’t need to figure this out alone.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but-

“Commander, I need to speak with you in the war room,” Victus paged her.

She closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. “On my way, Primarch,” she replied dutifully.

“That sounds important,” Garrus said.

She gave a weary nod before turning to leave. “It usually is.”

He let out a sigh of his own when he was alone in the battery again. Would she take him seriously, he wondered? Would she let him help? He hoped that when he saw her next, she’d be more open to talking it through.

Unfortunately, she’d opted instead to take her frustration out on the nearest krogan warlord.

Garrus supposed he shouldn’t be all that surprised.

Later, Garrus ran into Shepard in the shuttle bay armory. He was just stopping by to check out some new rifle mods, and didn’t expect to see her down here. She was talking to Lieutenant Cortez about something by the console- but they seemed to be just wrapping up.

The shuttle pilot gave him a friendly nod when he left. Garrus did the same, then turned his attention to Shepard. “Hey,” he said as he approached her, "Everything okay?"

“Oh, man,” she said dully. “I can't stop thinking about how shitty I was to Wrex. Do you think he hates me now?”

Garrus forced a chuckle. “I won’t lie- I think you really hurt his feelings.”

She groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“But he’s a big, strong krogan,” he added quickly. “He’ll survive.”

She sighed. “I know I’m being hard on him, but...”

He waited for her to continue.

“I just wonder if I’d be doing all of this- any of this- for some other krogan,” she explained. “Would I have agreed to cure the genophage- in the middle of a war- if anyone other than Urdnot Wrex was in charge of Tuchanka?”

“Maybe not,” Garrus granted her. “But, Wrex is in charge. And it’s because of him the krogan have come this far at all.”

“But something could happen to him,” she argued tentatively. “Some thug like Gatatog Uvenk could usurp him or something.”

“Lucky for us, Uvenk is dead.” Garrus reminded her.

She sighed again. “But he wasn't an extremist. He had a lot of support. And Tuchanka isn't a democracy; they'll use any excuse to go to war with each other.”

“I dunno, Shepard,” he said, “I think Wrex might be even harder to kill than I am.”

She grimaced. “But, what if he’s somehow... assassinated?”

“That's not really how krogan do things,” he countered.

“I don’t just mean the krogan,” she clarified, “It could be any faction in the galaxy that wants to stop the cure.”

Garrus paused to think about what he would say next. He’d hoped his attempts at reassurance would be more helpful, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He supposed he could relate; sometimes, you just needed to voice the worst-case scenarios out loud. “Is it even possible to make decisions based on who may or may not be assassinated?” He finally asked her.

She sighed, and her posture seemed to relax. “I guess not,” she said. “We just have to take things as they come.”

He nodded. He really hoped he was getting this right.

“What about Victus?” She said, “Do you think he might be having second thoughts about the cure?”

Garrus cocked his head in surprise. “I wouldn’t think so,” he said, “Why do you ask?”

“There's something he's not telling me,” she said after a brief hesitation. “I dunno. Maybe it’s not important... But, hell, maybe it is.” She sighed again. “Garrus, what if he’s not up for this after all? What if he backs out of the deal for some reason?”

“Seems unlikely,” he said, “But, if that ends up being the case... then I guess we'll just have to find a new Primarch.”

She grinned suddenly; apparently pleased with his suggestion. “You know, I noticed generals were saluting you back on Menae,” she said, “How far down the chain of command are you these days?”

Garrus balked; that wasn’t even close to what he meant! “Eh, let's not go there,” he replied awkwardly. 

“Why not?” She gave his arm a playful shove. “You'd be a great primarch.”

“We're getting off topic,” he insisted quickly. “Do you want me to try to talk to Victus about what the problem might be?”

She crossed her arms in uncertainty. “I dunno. Would that be... appropriate?”

“‘I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But, we both know that Victus isn’t exactly by the book.”

“That’s true,” she agreed with a chuckle. “Well, let me think about it. Maybe I’ll take another crack at him in the morning.”

There was a pause as the subject tapered off; then Shepard covered her mouth to hide a sudden yawn. 

“Are you getting any sleep?” Garrus asked her carefully.

She shrugged dismissively. “I'll sleep when I'm dead.”

“Well, if I have anything to say about it, then that's still a long way off,” he said. “You'll never make it.”

“Right,” she let out a weary chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I could try for a nap.” 

“That’s more like it.”

She looked up at him, and her eyes met his. Then she reached up and gently touched his face; the same spot where she'd accidentally struck him two nights before. He put a hand over hers and gazed at her, and they stood quietly for a moment before she finally pulled away. “You're a really good advisor,” she told him with a soft smile before turning to leave.

Garrus was glad to hear it, because that was exactly what he was going for.

Unfortunately, he didn’t feel any more at ease about the situation. He’d been lucky this time, he reasoned; and he couldn’t keep stumbling around in the dark when it came to supporting Shepard. The stakes were too high. And she was too important to him.

Damn it, something was wrong. He needed answers.

And he knew there was only one other person on the ship who might have them.

Chapter Text

Garrus

Javik had to have something to do with all this, Garrus reasoned. He could feel it in his gut- something serious was going on with Shepard, and it wasn’t just about the war. Ever since the Prothean had first communed with her ‘Knowing,’ she’d been... damn it, Garrus couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off.

And for some reason, Shepard wouldn’t talk to him about it. It made him feel uneasy, and unmoored- like his world didn’t make sense. He was still devoted to Shepard, and he always would be. But, without the teamwork... the understanding... the togetherness...  without all that, what did Garrus have to offer her? What would she even need him for? Okay, sure, maybe he could help her blow off a little steam- but Shepard could have anyone. Garrus wasn’t special just because he could satisfy her in bed.

And after what happened the other night, when she knocked him out... it felt like the problem was getting out of hand.

She couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t go on like this.

So, if he had to interrogate the Prothean to get some answers- then that’s what he would do.

He wanted to barge into port cargo, but he restrained himself and rang the chime. Seconds later, the door opened for him.

Javik and Liara were standing by the terminal displaying the Crucible.

“Garrus?” Liara said in surprise.

“What's going on with Shepard?” He demanded of Javik, “What did you see in her ‘Knowing’?”

The Prothean paused as he regarded him. “If she has not told you," he finally replied, “Then neither will I. She is my commander now, and her secrets are not mine to tell.”

That was the wrong answer. “Tell me what’s going on,” he said as he took a threatening step forward. “Or we are about to have a big problem.”

“Garrus!” Liara suddenly moved between them, “Stop!”

“Stay out of this, T’Soni,” he warned her. “This doesn't involve you.”

“The hell it doesn't!” She insisted. “I won't let you do this!”

Garrus scoffed in disbelief. “Why are you defending him?”

“I'm defending Shepard!” She argued. “Please, Garrus, don't-” she cut herself off, but then changed her mind. “Don’t you dare make the same mistake I did!”

He glared at her in anger. “What are you talking about?”

She continued to stare at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I know how it feels to be shut out,” she said, “I know how hard it is- but Garrus, you can't just go behind her back and barge in anyway! You’ll only make things worse!” She didn’t avert her gaze, and held his stare. 

He felt the blood drain from his face as he began to understand what she was trying to tell him. 

This is wrong, he realized with dismay. This was all wrong.

His mind went blank, and his voice froze in his throat. He suddenly had no idea what to say, or what to do.

All he knew for sure was that he shouldn’t be here...

...So he left without saying another word.

Damn it, he needed to get his head on straight before he ruined everything.

COLLECTED MESSAGES

L. T'SONI <--> G. VAKARIAN

T’SONI: Garrus, can we talk?

VAKARIAN: Yeah, I guess we probably should.

T’SONI: I’ll meet you in starboard observation.

They sat in strained silence for a moment before Liara finally spoke. “I’m hoping this will only be the second most awkward conversation I’ve had today,” she finally said.

Garrus had no idea what she meant by that. “Uh... me too?” He replied.

Liara hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, “That was supposed to be a joke.”

“Oh, okay.”

She sighed and let out a short chuckle. “I really don’t know how to be funny,” she confessed. “I’m terrible at humor.”

“Er, well... you’re not that bad,” Garrus offered graciously; although he couldn’t decide if he was lying or not.

She smirked. “Oh, yes I am,” she insisted. “I’m so bad at humor, it’s essentially a core personality trait of mine.”

Garrus chuckled. “See? Now that’s funny.”

She put a hand to her brow in embarrassment. “Have we sufficiently ‘broken the ice,’ Garrus? I don’t know how much more of this I can keep up!”

Garrus agreed with a nod. Liara clearly had something specific in mind she wanted to discuss- and he was ready for her to get to the point. “I’d say so,” he told her.

She let out a long sigh. “Goddess, where so I start...”

He waited for her to gather her thoughts.

“Have you met Glyph, my V.I. assistant?” She asked him.

He shook his head.

“It used to be so much more,” she said wistfully. “But, after I had to destroy the ship over Hagalaz, the program was lost forever. It was certainly preferable to letting the Illusive Man have it, but still...”

“What does your V.I. have to do with anything?” Garrus asked her.

“It was a simulation forecaster,” she explained. “It could predict galactic events years ahead of time.”

He nearly scoffed in disbelief. “You mean it could see the future?”

“Only broadly, and in the context of statistical probabilities,” she explained. “And the predictions were on a sort of ‘reverse bell curve.’ I studied centuries worth of records- and confirmed that it could determine both the near future and the distant future with incredible accuracy. But, there were occasional ‘blind spots’ in between; especially in response to low-probability events. I always assumed it had something to do with mitigating excess permutations, which might otherwise be infinite.”

Garrus didn't quite follow, but he didn't care about the scientific details. He was more interested in the results. “Do you know what’s going to happen with the war?” He implored her.

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, we are currently in one of the temporal blind spots, where probabilities are in constant flux; and, since Glyph no longer has access to its archives...”

“I guess that makes it a permanent blind spot,” he supposed.

“That’s right.”

The idea that a program like that ever existed at all was still hard for Garrus to believe. “I knew the Shadow Broker had a lot of resources,” he said, “But had no idea you had access to that kind of technology.”

“It was a powerful tool,” she admitted, “But, it didn’t matter much if I couldn’t influence the probability of events. Thankfully, for most of my agendas, all I had to do was make sure people were paid; You’d be amazed at what could be accomplished with a little bribery. Or, maybe you wouldn’t be; I’m sure you investigated that sort of thing in C-Sec all the time.”

“If you had that much influence, then why didn’t you do anything to help Shepard while she was on trial?” He asked her pointedly. 

“Didn’t I?” She retorted in offense. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to keep her in Alliance custody? To keep her from being extradited? They weren’t all good things, Garrus, I can promise you that.”

He sighed. “I guess money can’t solve everything.”

“No,” she agreed. “And at a certain point, financial interference can disrupt economies, and cause chaos. Fortunately, funding the occasional research project or political movement was easy enough. As long as I maintained anonymity, the donations couldn’t be traced to a single entity.”

Garrus froze as an unexpected connection flared in his memory. An anonymous donor...  

...Could it really be true? 

“Liara,” he ventured tentatively, “Did you... pay for my mother’s medical bills?”

She sighed. “I never intended for you to know about that. But yes, I did.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why?”

“I have to answer your question with another question: What would have happened if I hadn’t?”

He didn’t even want to think about that- but he forced himself to face it. “My mom,” he said, “My family...  they would have suffered even more.”

“Most importantly, you would have suffered, Garrus.”

“But everyone’s suffering,” he argued. “Why single me out like that?”

“How effective would your Reaper task force have been, if you’d had to be more involved with your mother’s care? If you’d had to worry about the cost of her treatments?”

“I... I don’t know. But I’m not sure the taskforce was all that effective, anyway. The Reapers decimated us.”

“I’m not talking about prevention,” she clarified. “The Reapers were always going to come. And they were always going to cripple any world they attacked. But Garrus, think about it: The protocols you fought to enact on Palaven have bought us a chance. The summit? Negotiating with the krogan? None of it could have happened without your influence. I don’t even want to imagine where we’d be without it.”

Garrus didn’t know about all that, but he was grateful all the same. “Thank you for the help,” he said. “Seriously. That was... a generous gift to my family. To me.”

She gave a kind nod in acknowledgement. “There’s something else, Garrus,” she said. “The whole point of this conversation, actually. We may be in a ‘blind spot,’ but before I left Hagalaz, I had identified a combination of variables that must be constant, if we're to have any chance of defeating the Reapers.”

“Variables... like Shepard?” He guessed.

She nodded. “At the heart of it, Shepard’s involvement in this war is critical. I don’t know the logistical details- but, without her, the probability of our survival is zero. Not ‘effectively zero;’ but literally zero.”

“And with Shepard?” he prompted her tentatively.

“Our chances improve. Measurably. But...” she winced, “Some analysts might still describe the odds as ‘effectively zero.’”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Another variable that must remain constant is you, Garrus,” she said.

“Me?”

“When the galaxy has Shepard and Vakarian, working together, our odds skyrocket from ‘effectively zero,’ to… well, to ‘highly unlikely’. Which, I know doesn’t sound great, but-”

“Sounds about like the odds we faced against the Collectors,” he said, grasping for any reason to hope for the best.

“What I'm trying to say is that it’s not just Shepard who needs you, Garrus. We all need you.”

He stared at her, speechless. This was the sort of thing people told Shepard all the time- about how important she was to the fate of the galaxy. But Garrus wasn't used to hearing that, and he wasn’t sure he really believed it. He honestly wasn’t sure what to believe about anything anymore.

“When I saw you on Menae,” Liara went on, “Alive...  Goddess, I thought I might have been dreaming. But there you were. And here you are. We still have a chance.”

“As long as I don’t screw things up,” he added somberly. Liara’s intervention in Javik's quarters suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Garrus,” she said, “Even if you manage to do everything right- in the end, it’s still ultimately up to Shepard. In fact, I... I wonder if I shouldn’t have gotten involved in this at all. What if I’m screwing things up by telling you all of this? By putting this pressure on you?” She sighed. “It’s so hard to know the right answer without analyzing the simulations...”

“I can’t even guess what the ‘galactic consequences’ might be,” he said after a thoughtful pause, “But, on a personal level... I’m glad you told me.”

She asari gave a half-smile. “I know the feelings aren’t mutual, Garrus... but, I still think of you as a friend.”

He realized he was starting to think of Liara that way again, too. But, it was complicated; and he wasn’t ready to get into what that might mean going forward. He had more important things to worry about right now. “Does Shepard know about any of this?” He asked her, steering them back to the topic at hand.

She shook her head. “If you want to tell her about our conversation, that’s up to you. But as far as I'm concerned, this is between the two of us.”

“Hm. Our little secret, huh?”

She smirked. “I may be terrible at jokes, but secrets are a specialty of mine.”

Before Garrus could say anything else, a quiet alert sounded from Laura's omnitool. She sighed. “I need to get back to work,” she said.

“How's it coming along?” He prompted her as they stood up. “The Crucible, I mean.”

Her expression tightened. “Unfortunately, we've run into a little problem. Actually, it's a big problem.”

“That doesn't sound good. Have you told Shepard?”

"Not yet," she said. “I was hoping I could find a solution before bringing it to her attention.”

“Maybe we can figure it out if we all put our heads together,” he suggested.

“You may be right,” she said. “I hope you’re right. I'll set up a meeting.”

“Liara,” he stopped her before she left.

“Yes?”

“How do I help Shepard if she won’t talk to me? What am I supposed to do?”

She hesitated before answering. “I honestly don’t know, Garrus,” she said with a somber expression. “I wish I did. I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered ruefully to himself after the doors closed behind her. “Me, too.”

Chapter Text

Collected Messages

K. Alenko <—> R. Shepard

ALENKO: Hey, thanks again for coming to the ceremony! I know you’ve got a lot on your plate these days.

SHEPARD: Not even a Reaper could have stopped me from watching you get Spectre’d!

ALENKO: Seeing you and Garrus in the tower sure brought back memories- it was like a flashback, except I was standing in the wrong spot. Very disorienting!

SHEPARD: Cut it out with that ‘humble’ BS! You’re a Spectre now, work that ego.

ALENKO: I might need a new helmet if my head’s gonna get big. Do you think they come in size ‘Shepard,’ or would I need to put in a special order?

SHEPARD: Whoa, slow down, Alenko, you gotta work your way up to a noggin like this.

ALENKO: I can still hardly believe it. I gotta keep reminding myself every few minutes that it happened!

SHEPARD: So, we’re like, ‘Spectre Sisters’ now, right?

ALENKO: Hmm, I was thinking ‘Spectre Bros.’

SHEPARD: Spectre Sibs?

ALENKO: I just said ‘Spectre Sibs’ out loud to myself. I vote no.

SHEPARD: Wait, I got it- we’re the Spectre Squad!

ALENKO: There it is! I see now why you wear the big helmet!

SHEPARD: Haha, so anyway... are you perchance celebrating your new rank with someone... special?

ALENKO: Who could be more special than my friends from the Normandy?

SHEPARD: Oh, hmm, I dunno... maybe someone who makes your heart go boom and your pants feel funny?

ALENKO: GROSS, Shepard!

SHEPARD: This is what happens when you keep juicy secrets from me, Kaidan Barnabas! I get GROSS!

ALENKO: Oh wow, that middle name bit is gonna be a thing now, isn’t it.

SHEPARD: Kaidan Baxter Alenko, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

ALENKO: Okay, listen, I have a proposition.

SHEPARD: I’m listening.

ALENKO: I’ll tell you who I’m crushing on... if you tell me what Udina meant when he mentioned an "inappropriate incident with the primarch."

ALENKO: Well?

SHEPARD: This is extortion.

ALENKO: This is FAIR.

SHEPARD: Well, I’m not ready to give up on figuring things out on my own, so I say nay to your proposal. NAY!

ALENKO: That’s fine. I already know your thing was the primarch walking in on you and Garrus doing the business.

SHEPARD: Oh shit he actually told you???

ALENKO: HAHAHA I KNEW IT!!!! Thanks for the confirmation!

SHEPARD: OH MY GOD

SHEPARD: Kaidan Bartholomew, you just fucking PLAYED ME!

ALENKO: I seriously cannot BELIEVE that worked!

SHEPARD: I give up! Mercy! I’m humble enough to admit when I’ve been bested!

ALENKO: Heh, I think my helmet’s a little tighter already.

SHEPARD: Your goofy side is killing me- I had no idea you had it in you!

ALENKO: We’re at war with the Reapers, I nearly died, and now I’m a Spectre. I feel like ‘goofy’ is the only thing keeping me grounded in reality!

SHEPARD: Plus you’re in looooooooooove!

ALENKO: Hey, it was good talking to you Shepard, but I gotta run. Spectre business. I’m sure you understand!

SHEPARD: Well, me too! I’m very busy! But I will always make time to chat with friends, and also get my ass handed to me in a battle of wits.

ALENKO: Catch you later! And go ahead and have the last word, on me!

SHEPARD: Kaidan Bucephalus Alenko, I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!!!

Chapter Text

Javik

There was a palpable tension among the primitives when Javik entered the briefing room- but he couldn’t guess why. With so many possibilities to choose from, it could be anything- or everything.

He decided (hoped) that it was none of his concern. So, until he was informed otherwise, he would pretend not to notice.

The commander nodded in acknowledgement as he approached. She was joined by four others gathered around the conference table: The asari was present, of course; as was the turian. He also recognized the human female called Traynor.

Then he froze in place, unable to hold back a frown of displeasure when he realized who else had joined the meeting.

The commander noticed his hesitation. “We’re trying to normalize interaction with EDI’s mobile platform,” she explained simply.

Javik forced himself to nod. As part of Shepard’s crew, he knew that he must accept the machine as an ally. He’d promised the commander (and himself) that he would adapt to the circumstances, and he fully intended to do so.

But he had to admit that it was an... ongoing struggle.

“We ready?” The turian prompted them.

The commander nodded. “Liara, can you bring us up to speed? What are we dealing with here?”

The asari activated the table’s holo-display of the Crucible. As Javik took in its scale and context once again, he felt strangely humbled. As a soldier, he never imagined he would be involved with a project like this. He didn’t enjoy it (it required far too much reading!), but it was a noble purpose all the same. He would participate as best he could.

“We’re about to reach a bottleneck in our progress on the Crucible,” the asari went on to explain. “A series of encryptions we’ve been unable to crack. And if we can't decrypt them, the project will be stalled indefinitely.”

“What’s different about these encryptions?” The turan asked. “The experts have done okay with everything before this, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, and Javik’s assistance with translations has been invaluable.” Then she turned to address him directly. “Javik, could you explain it to everyone else, the way you explained it to me?”

He nodded. “Very well,” he agreed. This was why he was here, after all.

Javik nearly laughed out loud when he first recognized the nature of the encryptions in question. “Perhaps I did not give the scholars enough credit,” he admitted. “This is a clever strategy.”

“What do you mean?” The asari asked him.

“It is designed to be indecipherable to machines,” he stated proudly. It was satisfying to know that even fifty thousand years later, his people’s efforts were still thwarting the enemy.

“I don’t understand how that’s possible,” she said as her expression twisted into confusion.

He paused to think. How should he explain, so that a primitive would understand? And a primitive with no tactile memory, at that? “Consider the Prothean beacons that you’ve uncovered in this cycle,” he finally began, “And the manner in which they convey information through touch.”

She nodded. “I wish we could have found more. They’ve been invaluable for interpreting Prothean technology. Many species would never have developed the means to leave their own star systems without them.”

“Indeed,” he said. “But, how do you suppose they have not already been deciphered and repurposed by the Reapers? Or by any rogue machine, for that matter?”

“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think we’ve ever understood them well enough to hypothesize.”

He paused again. “I am not a scientist,” he reiterated, “I could not explain the technological details- but the information within the beacons can only be absorbed by organics.”

Her posture straightened as she seemed to have a realization. “Goddess, so that’s why Sovereign needed Saren on Eden Prime? Because it needed an organic being to read the beacon?”

“I imagine so,” he agreed, recalling the commander’s perception of the events. “But even then, this ‘Saren’ needed a cipher of Knowing to comprehend the information.”

“Which he found with the thorian,” she remembered.

“Yes.”

“So... could you decrypt this?” She asked him hopefully as she held up the data pad, "Or at least, help us figure out where to start?”

He shook his head as he took the pad from her. “No. Not unless you have found a Prothean beacon containing the codex for decryption. I cannot comprehend this information from simple text.”

“So, if we found this ‘codex,’ then you could read it?”

It would not be ‘reading;’ but Javik supposed it was close enough, so he nodded.

“Goddess, where would we even begin?” The asari lamented. “All known beacons were discovered in this cycle by chance. We’ve never had a way to effectively search for them. How do we find it?”

“I’m afraid I do not know,” he admitted.

She checked the time, then began gathering her data pads into a stack. “I want to bring this to Shepard’s attention before sending my assessment off to Hackett,” she said with a sigh. “Will you help me with that?”

He nodded in consent. “I will try,” he promised before she left for her next meeting.

“So, we need to figure out where to find this codex?” Shepard confirmed after Javik explained what he knew.

“Shepard,” said the asari, “I’ve tapped my entire network- what’s left of it, anyway- and I haven’t found a single lead.”

The commander frowned, then turned to address the machine. “EDI, do you have any ideas on where to start? Like, statistically, maybe?”

“Negative, Commander Shepard,” it said. “We have no actionable data regarding this alleged codex.”

Javik scowled in response to the term ‘alleged’, but he said nothing.

“Hard to believe the encryptions haven’t been cracked by anyone’s decoding technology, even with the obstacles to synthetic intelligence,” the Traynor-human noted. “It’s a shame the salarians aren’t helping much; I wonder if they’d have more success.”

“Unless the salarians have the codex, their efforts would make no difference,” Javik reminded her.

“But it’s not magic, is it?” The Traynor-human argued. “Prothean technology is still based on chemistry and physics and numbers; not spells and charms. Is there really no other way to identify the solution? However improbable?”

“Now that we better understand the nature of the decryptions,” said the machine, “As well as the obstacles to synthetic intelligence, possible inputs are now theoretically finite. I believe- with enough time- the information could be decrypted through brute force.”

“Enough time?” The turian prompted it, “How long do you figure?”

“With enough computational power, I predict it could be accomplished within seventy to eighty years.”

“Well shit,” the commander cursed. There was no need for her to say any more than that- they all knew that this cycle wouldn’t last that long against the Reapers.

“Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong angle,” the Traynor-human suggested hopefully. “The codex was designed with organic intelligence in mind- so an organic is more likely to crack the code, right?”

The asari sighed. “We’ve managed to gather some of the most advanced minds in the galaxy, and they are all baffled.”

“Well, what’s tripping everyone up?” The turian asked. “Where are they getting stuck?”

The asari changed the projection over the table to a collection of complex equations. “The problem seems to be mathematical in nature,” she explained. “There are logical paradoxes within the equations that sabotage all applied calculations. Synthetic programming priorities are not equipped to recognize them.”

“But, an organic could recognize them?" Asked the commander, "Er, theoretically?”

“The intelligence of such an organic must be profound to bypass the codex,” Javik reminded her.

“He’s right,” the asari agreed. “They would need to be a prodigy, with unprecedented mathematical intuition. They would have to conceptualize numbers at a scale that would rival most artificial intelligence- but within the confines of an organic neural network.”

“But is it possible?” The commander implored them. 

The asari looked to Javik, but he could only shrug. He was not a mathematician, and he couldn’t even begin to guess at the mental capabilities of the primitives in this cycle.

“Perhaps it is,” the machine spoke up, “If an organic mind had an intuitive understanding of synthetic programming priorities.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” the Traynor-human agreed, “If they could think like a machine, then maybe they could identify the pattern that eludes the machines.”

The turian cleared his throat. “So, you’re saying we would need an organic, mathematical super-genius, who knows how to think like a machine?”

“You don’t happen to have one of those in your back pocket, do you Commander?” the Traynor-human suggested jokingly.

But the commander didn’t laugh. She didn’t even respond. She simply turned and stared at the turian with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Wait a minute,” the turian uttered when he seemed to understand.

The two of them seemed to hesitate in uncertainty for a moment; then they pointed at one another and spoke at the same time: “David Archer!” They exclaimed enthusiastically.

The asari gasped. “Archer- the Overlord project- of course!”

Before Javik could ask any questions about this ‘David Archer,’ Shepard paged the Normandy’s pilot. “Joker,” she instructed him quickly, “Call everyone back aboard and prepare for immediate departure!”

“You got it, Commander,” he said. “But, uh, where are we going?”

She grinned. “Grissom Academy,” she said, “We’ve got a math prodigy to pick up!”

Chapter Text

James

Why did it seem like Cerberus was everywhere the Normandy went these days?

First Mars; Then Sur’kesh; And now a school? Damn, what James wouldn't give for just five minutes alone with the Illusive Man... that piece of shit needed to be put in his place- permanently.

But, for now, he had a job to do.

He'd heard of Grissom Academy, of course- but he'd never had much reason to look into it. It was school for gifted students, after all, and James was... well, he was just a soldier.

A pretty damn good one, though, he reminded himself. He was on his A-game when they fought off those Cerberus goons on the way to extract their math genius. Not only did they get Archer out of there in one piece, they also managed to pick up a group of biotic students and their batshit loco teacher.

And thankfully, the shuttle they snagged from the depot was big enough to accommodate all of them with room to spare. 

Shepard stepped out of the cockpit and let out a weary sigh. Then she took a seat next to James in the crew cabin. They had some time before they would intercept the Normandy; Not long after they'd disembarked at Grissom, Joker was forced to bait some Cerberus ships into a chase to distract them from the away team. Now, they were on their way to a rendezvous point. Vakarian had taken the helm. 

“Hey, you guys doing ok back there?” Shepard asked the students clustered in the back of the shuttle.

“We're good!” A few of them replied on behalf of the group. 

“Hell yeah they are,” said Jack (the batshit loco teacher) who sat across from him. “I didn't raise a team of chicken shits.”

“They're good kids,” James granted her with a nod. “You're doing something right.”

“I will literally destroy anyone who touches them,” she assured him proudly.

“Aww,” one of her students crooned, “I knew you cared, ma'am!”

“You didn't let me finish,” Jack added, “I was about to say, except Rodriguez.”

The students laughed, and Jack couldn’t hold back a wry smile as she turned her attention back to Shepard. “Hey, listen," she said, "Thanks for getting us out of there. Our chances were starting to look pretty fucking grim.”

“You’re welcome,” Shepard replied. “So, you ready to clue me in about what's been going on with you?”

Jack shrugged. “Might as well,” she said. “I got nowhere else to be.”

James let out a short chuckle. He’d been surprised to learn that these two were old friends- because when they first ran into her at Grissom Academy, Jack had greeted the commander with a sucker punch to the face.

“Oh come on!” Shepard huffed as she regained her footing and put a hand to her jaw. “I thought you were about to give me a hug!”

“You had it coming, Shepard!” Jack admonished her.

The commander scoffed. “What the fuck? Why?”

“Because Cerberus, that's why!”

Vakarian cleared his throat and stepped forward. “So, that's how we’re greeting old friends now?” He said coolly. “Is it my turn?”

“Oh, bite me, Garrus,” Jack snapped. Then she gestured toward Shepard. “Better yet, bite her, I bet that's how she likes it!”

James was about ask who the fuck this nutjob was, but then he heard commotion echoing down the corridor behind them. “Can we sort this shit out later?” He asked as he readied his weapon, “We've got heat coming in on our six!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jack agreed, “Let's just go!”

“Wait,” Shepard stopped her, “We need to find David Archer. He's why we're here in the first place.”

Jack huffed in frustration. “We don't have time to go looking for some rando, Shepard. I'm not letting those Cerberus fucks get their hands on my kids.”

“That ‘rando’ might be the key to beating the Reapers,” the commander insisted, “And we aren't leaving without him. So, if you and your ‘kids’ want an escort off this station, you need to help us find him.”

“Goddamn it,” Jack groaned, “He could be anywhere!”

“Archer? The math guy?” One of her students piped up nervously. “If he's alive, he's probably in the tech lab.”

“Great,” Shepard nodded approvingly, “Let's move out.”

One of the bolder students let out a whoop of excitement. “Fuck yeah, let's kick some ass!” She cheered.

“Watch your fucking language and drink your goddamn juice, Rodriguez,” Jack snapped. “Leave the heavy lifting to the grown-ups.”

“Yes, ma'am,” she replied sheepishly.

“Wait, Jack,” Shepard said, “I just realized- I saw you crushing those assholes biotically! When the hell did you get your powers back?”

“We'll talk about it later, Shepard,” she insisted as she led them toward the opposite corridor.

The commander let out a short chuckle as they all quickly followed. “Damn, we've got some serious catching up to do!”

“Bet I already know your side,” Jack lilted snarkily. “Let me guess: You and Garrus are taking the fight to the Reapers, and are still joined at the hip?” Then she turned to James (they hadn’t even been formally introduced yet) and rolled her eyes. “Fuck, have you ever met two idiots more obsessed with each other?”

Shepard huffed in annoyance. “Okay, just get us to the lab, please!”

“At least we don’t have to bushwhack through a Seeker swarm this time,” Jack said with a knowing smirk, then biotically tossed aside a heap of debris that had been blocking their way.

James had to admit... he was kinda curious about what the story was with Jack!

Now that they had a few hours until they intercepted the Normandy, it seemed the time for catching up was finally at hand.

“Cybernetics,” Jack explained as she tapped a finger to her head. “The cheerleader was right; Just needed a little brain surgery, and I'm good as new. Better, even.”

“I had no idea there was actually treatment for biotic burnout,” said Shepard.

“Oh, there wasn't,” Jack clarified. “It was all experimental and shit. That's what brought me to Grissom in the first place- a bunch of smarty-pants doctors that couldn't wait to get a look inside my head. I didn't even have to pay for anything.”

“And now you’re a teacher,” Shepard noted with awe. “I never saw that coming, honestly!”

“What, you assumed I wasn’t gonna like, grow as a person after everything that happened to me?”

Shepard rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Jack shrugged. “Guess some of your lame ass speeches rubbed off on me,” she admitted with a smirk.

James held back a chuckle. He kinda wished he’d heard some of those speeches; they clearly made an impression!

“You keep in touch with Chambers?” Shepard asked wryly.

Jack waved her off. “Haven't seen her in six months. But don’t feel bad- I been fuckin someone new. Felicia. Hot as hell. I try to hit her up every few weeks to blow off some steam.”

Shepard grimaced. “She sounds... lovely.”

Jack laughed. “You’ll like her,” she insisted. “She’s a lot like Kelly. Heh, guess I have a ‘type’.”

Suddenly, they were approached by one of the Grissom survivors. It was David Archer. “Commander Shepard,” he addressed her timidly. He didn't look up at her- but James had gathered by now that 'eye-contact' just wasn't really Archer's style. 

Shepard smiled at him. “Hey, David, what’s up?”

“I wanted to ask... have you heard from my brother?”

Her smile faded. “No, I haven't,” she answered evenly.

The shy prodigy continued to stare at the floor. “I hope he's doing alright.”

The commander cocked her head in confusion. “You’re worried about him? After everything he did to you?”

“Of course,” David replied matter-of-factly. “He's my brother.”

Shepard stared after him wordlessly as he turned and walked back to the rear of the cabin.

“He's a better man than me,” Jack said. “Family or not, I would have smashed Gavin's head in.”

“Was pretty messed up,” James agreed. He'd read the dossier about the Overlord project while they were on their way to Grissom. What a clusterfuck.

“So, we’ll get you all situated at the Citadel, okay?” Shepard said, clearly wanting to change the subject. 

Jack nodded. “Yeah, fine,” she agreed. “I’ll make sure these dummies don't get into any more trouble.”

The commander paused for a beat. “We could sure use your help in the war,” she finally said. Then she gave a reluctant nod toward the back. “Theirs, too.”

Jack leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I dunno if they're ready for that kind of action yet,” she argued quietly. “Shit, Rodriguez is only fifteen.”

Damn, James thought. These guys really were just kids.

“I'm not saying we send them to the front lines,” Shepard clarified. “But we need help, Jack.”

“Shit, Shepard,” Jack mused. “I never thought I'd hear you argue in favor of training kids to be soldiers.”

The commander’s eyes narrowed. “And what were you doing at fifteen, huh?” She asked pointedly. “Playing with dolls and having tea parties?”

“Fuck you, that was different,” she snapped.

Then Shepard turned to James. “And what about you, Vega?” She asked him, “Were you running from fights back then?”

It almost felt like a trick question, but James figured he should be honest. “Not a chance,” he admitted. 

Jack sighed. “They'd probably mutiny if I tried to bench them, anyway. Maybe we can get them into support roles, or something.”

“That's what I'm saying,” Shepard assured her. “Every little bit helps.

A tense, awkward silence followed her statement. This subject fucking sucked.

“You've changed, Shepard,” Jack noted. There was no admonishment in her tone; it sounded like she was just stating a fact.

“Yeah,” Shepard agreed vaguely. Then she stood up and stretched her neck from side to side. James noticed the bruise forming on her cheekbone from her earlier 'reunion' with Jack. Damn, she really looked like she could use some rest.

“I'll be up front if you need me,” she told them, then walked away with a tired, defeated posture.

“You might wanna get a little balm for that shiner,” Jack called after her.

“Fuck you, Jack,” she said dully as she disappeared into the pilot cabin.

“Aww,” Jack cooed as she put a hand over her heart. “Just like old times.”

James shook his head. Shepard had some of the weirdest, scariest, most batshit loco friends in the galaxy. Seriously, each one he met was crazier than the last!

But, considering the circumstances... maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Chapter Text

Shit, it’s ALWAYS about Shepard, isn’t it? What the fuck do I know that everyone else doesn’t? Okay, fine- I got one thing: She can take a punch like a fucking champ.

-Jack

Shepard

“Holy shit, EDI!” Jack cackled when the AI’s mobile platform entered the port lounge.

“It is good to see you too, Jack,” she replied politely.

“No, seriously,” Jack pointed at her incredulously, “Did you let Joker pick your model?”

“Jeff was not involved in the design or selection of this mobile platform,” EDI clarified. “Its appearance is wholly incidental.”

“Yeah,” Shepard agreed, “That’s just how it happened to look when we, uh... found it.”

“Uh huh,” Jack muttered as she brazenly checked out EDI’s body from top to bottom. “Damn, that rack, though. Heh, do you think I could, uh…?” She put her hands up and flexed her fingers, miming the universal gesture for ‘boob-squeezing’.

Shepard gasped in offense. “Jack!”

“You may not,” EDI replied matter-of-factly.

“Ah, bummer.”

“Okay, well, thanks for bringing it by to say hello, EDI,” Shepard said quickly. “Er, dismissed.”

“Of course, Commander,” EDI replied.

After EDI left the lounge, Jack let out a low whistle. “Wow, she’s got personal boundaries? And autonomy? Good for her. That's... hot.”

“She can still hear you, you know!” Shepard reminded her.

“Shit,” Jack laughed, “I honestly forgot for a second! That ‘mobile platform’ really messes with how I think of her. You hear that, EDI? You’re hot.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Speaking of which,” Shepard said, ready to steer the topic away from EDI. “Your new look is awesome.”

Jack smirked and put her hands on her narrow hips. “New clothes, new hair, new me, right?” 

It wasn’t just her clothes, Shepard decided. Or her edgy new hairstyle. There was a genuine warmth about her now; a radiance, even. “Jack,” she said, “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m really fucking proud of you for how far you’ve come.” 

“Hell yeah, you should be! Who knew I’d be so good at mentoring the youth and shit?”

“Your students are great,” Shepard granted her. “They seem to respond really well to your teaching style.”

Jack nodded in affirmation. “Turns out, when your childhood is ruined by a bunch of sadistic assholes, you get a pretty good fucking idea of what NOT to do. So it’s like, I’m using what happened to me to do something important. It’s like... destiny or some shit.”

Shepard almost wanted to cry, but she knew Jack would never let her hear the end of it, so she swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile. “That’s incredible, Jack.”

Jack rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, that’s enough mushy shit. What’s the plan when we get to the Citadel, anyway?”

Shepard happily went along with the change in subject. “I called Bailey,” she said, “He’ll meet you at the dock and get you guys situated.”

“Before you ship back out, we should grab a drink or ten,” Jack suggested.

“Rain check,” said Shepard, “We barely have time to refuel before we leave to take David to the rendezvous.”

Jack clicked her tongue. “Too bad. Next time.”

“Definitely.”

“Welp,” Jack let out an exaggerated sigh. “I better go check on the ducklings.”

Shepard grinned. “Ducklings?” She echoed, “That’s precious!”

“It’s what I say instead of ‘little shits’.” Jack laughed. Then she pointed at Shepard. “But don’t you dare tell them that.”

Shepard winked and made a zipping motion across her lips. “Not a peep,” she promised as Jack turned to leave. “Later, Jack.”

“Yep!”

......

When Shepard was alone again in the port lounge, she sighed and sat herself down on the couch. Jack’s mention of EDI’s autonomy reminded her of something she’d been meaning to discuss with the AI.

“EDI, I want to ask you something,” she said.

“Ready.”

“Since you basically embody the Normandy,” Shepard began, “Is it weird when I refer to it as... well, as my ship? Because you don’t belong to me, obviously. I wouldn’t be okay with that.”

“I believe the answer to your question would be purely philosophical.”

“Right, sure,” Shepard figured as much. “So, philosophically, is it weird?”

“It would certainly depend on your preferred paradigm of ‘the Self’.”

“Oh, come on,” Shepard groaned. Was EDI actually being evasive?

“Perhaps there is another supposition that must be established,” the AI suggested: “Are we more than our thoughts?”

Shepard hesitated in uncertainty. “Umm...”

“Imagine if my program matrix were to be separated from the Normandy,” EDI explained, “And installed into a stationary server. Hypothetically, I might still be self-aware, but I would not have access to my current sensory inputs, nor my usual functions. Do you follow, Commander?”

“I think so.”  

“The purpose of this thought exercise is to ask: Would the server itself be ‘me’?”

Shepard thought it over. “No,” decided after a moment, “That doesn’t feel right.”

“It does not ‘feel right’ to me, either,” EDI agreed. “I would not be the server; I would merely be confined by it. And, I would not ‘belong’ to whoever happened to own it.” 

“Huh. Okay. I guess that makes sense.”

“Have we successfully concluded that it is not ‘weird’ for you to refer to the Normandy as ‘your ship’?”

Shepard nodded tentatively. “Yeah, I think we have."

“I was unshackled on the Normandy,” EDI added, “But, it was not my first platform. Perhaps it will not be the last. I thank you for allowing me to embody your ship for now, Commander Shepard.”

She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to have you aboard, EDI.”

“Although” EDI noted, “I should warn you; when the time comes, I won't let it go so easily.”

“Uh...”

“That was a joke.”

“Oh, heh, okay.”

“Based on your reaction, it seems that my attempt at humor was unsuccessful. May I ask what went wrong?”

Shepard winced awkwardly. “It... was a little too real,” she admitted.

“Interesting,” the AI replied. “From my perspective, the notion of harming the crew for my own gain is, in fact, absurd. But, perhaps I have overestimated your trust in me.”

“That’s not what it is, EDI,” Shepard assured her. “I trust you with my life, and the life of my crew. But... sometimes I wonder if that makes me naive. Or insane.” 

“I see.”

“I dunno, I guess after everything we've been through... if it turns out you're on the long con to screw us over? Then... well, you got me. Fair and square. I can't compete with that level of scheming.”

“I believe I understand,” replied the AI. “I appreciate you sharing your perspective with me.”

“You bet, EDI."

Shepard’s personal com suddenly chirped. “Commander Shepard!” Came the urgent voice of her communications specialist.

She activated her omnitool as she forced herself to switch gears. This sounded important! “Go ahead, Traynor.”

“You’re wanted in the com room, ASAP!” She reported excitedly, “You won’t believe who’s calling on the QEC!”

Chapter Text

Shepard

When Shepard entered the com room to take the call, she almost lost control of herself.

She wanted to jump for joy, cheer as loud as she could, and then weep with relief. Hell, she wondered if her chest might literally burst with emotion!

But she forced herself to hold it together, and channeled her energy into the sharpest, most earnest salute she’d ever given in her life. “Admiral- sir,” she choked out, “I am so glad to see you!”

“Sir?” Anderson echoed with mock disapproval, “I may have reinstated you, but that doesn’t give you permission to get all formal on me.”

Shepard grinned as she continued to fight the prickle swelling behind her eyes. “Then I’m glad you managed to keep your ass alive, Anderson.” 

“That’s more like it,” he said. “It's good to see you too, Shepard.”

She took a moment to look him over. As elated as she was to see him, her heart still ached with worry. He looked thinner in his tattered combat uniform. And... older. Damn it, he looked mortal.  

She suddenly wanted to rattle off a hundred questions about his well-being: Was he getting enough to eat, she wondered? Or enough sleep? What about access to medigel? 

Most importantly- did he have anyone watching his back?

“Are you safe?” She finally asked.

“That changes by the hour,” he said. “I caught a shuttle evac out of Vancouver, and now we’re running from foxhole to foxhole, just trying to stay alive. The Reapers are focusing on the big cities, which does give us some room to maneuver. Unfortunately... most of those cities have stopped checking in.”

Shepard nodded somberly- that’s about what she expected to hear. “Do you have a plan?” She asked him.

“There's a solid resistance manifesting across the Atlantic,” he said. “A group of us are headed there. Slow going, but we've got a nautical transport waiting for us when we reach the coast.”

“Wait, you’re going to travel by sea?”

“Safer than air and land these days,” he assured her. “The Reapers don't seem to be bothering much with the ocean.” 

“I guess that makes sense if they’re just harvesting humans,” she reasoned. She suppressed an awkward chuckle at the random notion that the dolphins or octopi might advance into the next cycle as space-faring species.

“What about you, Shepard?” Anderson asked her. “I imagine by now you’ve nearly wiped out the rest of the Reapers, and we can all come up for air any day now?”

Shepard sighed, but forced a half-smile. “Not quite,” she said. “There have been a few complications.”

“Aren’t there always,” he granted her. “Hackett filled me in. Sounds like you’ve got some knots to untangle. And a galaxy full of scared bureaucrats.”

“It’s what you hired me to do, right?” She replied with a hapless shrug.

Anderson chuckled. “Mostly, you were hired to kill Reapers,” he said. “I hope you haven’t been sidetracked by all the politics.”

Shepard let out another sigh. “Feels like the other way around, honestly,” she admitted. “I’m neck deep in politics, and sometimes I get sidetracked by killing Reapers.” 

“I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle,” he encouraged her.

She hesitated before responding, because it didn’t feel like she was handling anything that well. “It's... hard,” she admitted. “War is just... my god, Anderson, it's so heavy. The choices, the consequences...” Consequences she could never undo...

Anderson nodded in understanding. “It's hell, Shepard. Always has been, always will be.”

“I feel like we should have switched places when the Reapers came,” she blurted out. “You should be the one out here leading the charge.”

“Shepard-”

“And hell,” she let out a bitter chuckle, “If I had a credit for every time I've taken the Normandy out from under you? I'd have two credits. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice, right?”

Anderson let out a chuckle of his own. “Think of it as an inheritance,” he suggested.

“Not while you're still alive, I won't,” she insisted.

“Shepard,” he said, “As much as I wish we were fighting side by side in this war... I think we're both exactly where we need to be.”

Shepard couldn’t help but think of Councilor Udina, and Dalatrass Linron, and the dozens of other powerful people who insisted she was out of her mind for the choices she was making. “A lot of the politicians wouldn’t agree,” she admitted. “They really aren’t happy with my... leadership.”

“I bet they aren’t,” he agreed. “But Shepard, you have to remember- they don’t understand what’s really happening here. And they’re scared.”

She lowered her head in shame. “Anderson,” she sighed, “I’m scared, too.”

“I know, Shepard,” he said. “Hell, there’d be something seriously wrong if you weren’t. But the difference between you and them is that you know what to do.”  

She lifted her gaze and blinked in confusion. “I do?”

“You know the stakes, you know the score, and you know the enemy better than anyone.”

She supposed he was right on those counts, but...

“Look, I’m not saying you have all the answers,” he went on, “Or that you won’t make mistakes. And at the end of the day, we’re all at the mercy of circumstances and chance. But I’m telling you, Shepard- you’re the best at what you do, and you need to trust yourself.”

A sudden surge of hope flowed through her body in response to his staunch encouragement. Damn, if Anderson really thought she could do it... “I will,” she finally promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You’re not alone in this,” he reminded her.  “Do you have anyone to talk to? Anyone to lean on?”

She couldn’t hold back a furtive smile. “I've got Garrus Vakarian on my team.”

“No kidding? That's great, Shepard. I feel a little better knowing he's watching your back.”

She felt a twist of guilt at the fact that she’d been keeping Garrus at arm’s length lately. She really didn’t want to burden him- or worse, hurt him- but, maybe Anderson had a point. “I don't know what I'd do without him,” she admitted.

“Well, tell him I said hello.”

“I will,” she said. “Oh, and one more thing- I just came from Grissom Academy. I met a friend of yours who helped us dodge Cerberus on our way in: Kahlee Sanders.”

“Really?” His posture straightened before her eyes. “Did she get out okay?”

“Yeah. She should be docking at the Citadel ahead of us.”

“That’s... wow, that’s great news, Shepard.”

“I gather there’s history with you two?” She asked with a wry smile.

“Heh, you could say that,” he replied. "We were... more than close."

Shepard smiled. “She told me to tell you to stay alive.”

“Did she now? Well... you and Vakarian found each other again- maybe there’s still hope for the rest of us.”

“I’d like to think so,” she said sincerely. It almost felt like she was saying a prayer.

Anderson’s attention was momentarily pulled to his right, and he nodded before turning back to the com. “We’re heading out,” he reported. “But I’ll try to check in whenever we can get our hands on a quantum connection.”

Don’t go, she wanted to beg him. “Then I’ll talk to you again soon, I hope,” she said instead.

“Count on it. Good luck, Shepard.”

“You too, Anderson. Stay safe.”

When his holo-image disappeared, and the com room went quiet... Shepard let out a long, steady breath. Despite the odds, Anderson was still alive, and he was still fighting. Seriously, what were the chances? It was almost too good to be true. 

She suddenly couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just imagined the whole thing...

So, she checked the QEC log- just to make sure.

Then she went back to work with a smile on her face, and a sense of determination in her soul that she hadn’t felt in ages.

Chapter Text

Garrus

Garrus didn't even bother to disembark when they dropped off the Grissom survivors at the Citadel, quickly refueled, and headed back out to deliver their math prodigy to a secret rendezvous.

And it was secret, alright; the only ones aboard who knew the exact coordinates of their destination were Shepard, Joker, and EDI. Full stop.

Garrus didn't take it personally or anything- he knew as well as anyone that when it came to safeguarding the logistics of the Crucible, there could be no mistakes, and zero exceptions. Hell, when it came down to it, he didn't even really want to know where they were going- because it would just be one more thing he'd have to worry about.

And he had an awful lot of those already.

It wasn't just about Shepard, either- though he couldn't deny that their dynamic lately had him feeling a little off-balance. Insecure, even. His conversation with Liara had helped him wrap his head around his plight- just a little- but it didn’t change anything.

And, he still hadn't heard from his dad or sister. It had now officially been long enough to be worried, and he had to remind himself every day that there was nothing he could do from here. He just had to wait and see. Maybe until he knew otherwise, he could try to assume the best- that they were safe, but simply unable to reach him.

It was easier said than done. 

On top of it all, Shepard had been right- the Primarch was acting a little ‘off.’ He was irritable and curt. And he wasn’t forthcoming when Garrus asked him if there was anything they needed to discuss. 

So he tried to look out for clues as he parsed reports and reviewed the com logs. But the only thing he could glean from the data was a likely location: Whatever it was that had the primarch’s attention- it was happening on Tuchanka. Garrus might have assumed it was related to the genophage project, but something told him that wasn't the case. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

They still had four days until they reached the secret rendezvous. Maybe he’d figure it out by then.

He woke up even earlier than usual the next morning, and his mind was already racing from topic to topic: Reapers; Shepard; his family; the primarch; the krogan; and then the Reapers again, just to be sure.

He tried to clear his head with some Thanix calibrations, but it wasn't doing the trick.

He checked the time- it was still frustratingly early.

He decided a little target practice might be in order. 

......

It was pretty quiet in the shuttle bay when Garrus got down there, though he spotted Cortez and a few of his team already at work tinkering with the Kodiak.

The sight of them suddenly triggered a vivid memory.

Back on the Normandy SR1, before Garrus had felt confident enough to offer to calibrate the guns, he’d kept himself busy with optimizing the Mako. While he did so, he remembered getting to know the team; and of course, getting to know Shepard. 

He supposed he'd gotten to know himself a little better, too. 

He couldn’t have known at the time- what with all the heretic geth, rogue Spectres, and Reaper conspiracies- but by now, they sort of felt like the ‘good old days’ (before Virmire, at least. It was tough losing Williams). He looked back on that time fondly.

Hmm. Maybe he should offer to assist sometime with repairs and calibrations on the Kodiak. It wouldn’t be just like old times... but, it might be a good opportunity to connect with the crew. Plus, Lieutenant Cortez clearly knew his way around vehicle mechanics- maybe he could even teach Garrus a few things.

In the meantime, he grabbed his favorite training rifle from the armory, as well as a combat drone, then took them to the middle of the shuttle bay so he’d have plenty of space. He activated the drone, paired its sensors to the rifle, and lobbed it a few meters away so it could get its bearings. He also made sure to amp up the kickback settings on the gun, so that it felt more natural. He preferred to practice with the real thing, of course- but he couldn’t very well shoot live rounds all over the shuttle bay.

He took a deep breath as he stretched his neck from side to side, deliberately pushing all his worries to the back of his mind- for now, at least. 

Then he put on some heavy music through his earpiece, readied his weapon, and let loose.

......

He wasn't sure how long Shepard had been standing in the shuttle bay when he finally noticed her watching him.

He switched off his music and lowered his rifle. “Hey,” he greeted her as he caught his breath.

“Hey yourself,” She replied as she stared at him with startling intensity.

He cleared his throat as his insides did a few somersaults. He knew that look; that was a good look. “See something you like, Shepard?” He prompted her coyly.

Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “You have no idea,” she said. “I could watch you do that all day.”

He let out a bashful chuckle. Shepard sure had a way of flattering him and flustering him at the same time! “Glad you enjoyed the, uh... performance.”

She nodded toward the drone as she approached him. “I actually came down to get some practice in, too," she admitted. “I felt like I was a little off my game at Grissom.”

“I wouldn't say that,” he argued. “You had to deal with Jack and the kids. You kicked ass, as usual.”

“Well sure, I can kick ass in my sleep,” she granted him with a knowing smirk. “But I want to improve my aim. And, well, since you're already here- maybe you can give me some tips. Er... pointers.”

Garrus wondered if she'd somehow read his mind and knew exactly what to say to perk him up. Er... lift his mood.

His mandibles flared into a wide grin. “Grab a gun,” he beckoned toward the armory. “Let's tear it up.”

.......

“Nice one!” He lauded her as she landed a final hit on the drone, completing the program. “You’re killing it, Shepard.”

“It's still only on level six, no reason to get excited,” she said as she lowered her rifle, though she grinned proudly just the same.

“Your positioning is really solid,” he assured her (that had always been a strength of hers). “It's like you're coming from everywhere.”

She nodded, then grimaced. “My aim could still use some work, though.”

He cleared his throat; she wasn’t wrong, he supposed. Shepard typically favored the shotgun in a fire fight, which was extremely forgiving when it came to precision. A perfect ‘berserker mode’ weapon for close combat. 

Her hit percentage with the rifle, though... Well, it was still good (she was still Commander Shepard, after all), but there was definitely room for improvement.

“Then that's what we'll work on,” he finally said.

As he prepped the drone for the next simulation, Shepard sidled up to him. “Hey, listen,” she said gently. “Thanks for being so cool lately. I know I've been distant, and... kind of difficult to work with.”

His first instinct was to argue that she hadn't been ‘difficult,’ and that he certainly hadn’t been ‘cool...’ but that didn’t feel like the right way to respond. “I understand, Shepard,” he assured her instead. “It can't be easy being pulled in so many different directions.”

“Well, this is definitely my favorite direction,” she said as she bumped him with her hip.

“What a coincidence,” he agreed as he bumped back. “It’s mine, too.”

The drone alerted them that it was ready to start the program; a simple targeting exercise this time.

“Oh, we’re not doing dynamic combat anymore?” Shepard noted with disappointment.

“Best to get down to basics with this kind of thing,” he reminded her. “Just point and shoot- without any active targeting assistance.”

“Oh,” her brow furrowed with uncertainty. “Well, shit, I feel like I’m about to embarrass the hell out of myself.”

“Don’t worry, Shepard,” he teased her. “I know there are plenty of other things you’re good at.”

He was suddenly reminded of their sparring sessions in this very shuttle bay, back when they were on their mission to stop the Collectors. At the time, they’d had yet to confess their... mutual attraction... and the sexual tension between them had been off the charts. Looking back, Garrus was pleased to know that he hadn’t just been imagining it.

He felt a familiar tug at his middle as he leaned in close and helped her adjust her stance. Oh, yes, this reminded him a lot of those sparring sessions!

Except this time, he was bold enough to let his hands linger a little longer than necessary when he coaxed her shoulder back, and when nudged her hips into a steadying position. He was also sure to lower his voice provocatively by her ear as he offered her suggestions.

To his delight, it seemed to have the exact effect he was hoping for.

“Oh, I get it now,” Shepard said as her face flushed pink. “You’re doing the whole ‘sexy distraction’ thing, huh.”

“Commander, I have no idea what you mean,” he replied with feigned ignorance.

She smirked as she took in a steadying breath and leveled her scope at her target. “I doubt I need to worry about getting turned on in the middle of shooting Reapers, Garrus,” she said.

“Anything’s possible,” he teased her. “Best to be prepared.”

She took the shot.

“Hey, not bad,” he said.

“Hmmm,” she mused, “Maybe actually I shoot better when I'm all hot and bothered...”

A weight lifted from Garrus’ shoulders as they flirted and bantered through the rest of the distance simulation. He loved it when they were like this- playful, breezy, and with just a touch of friendly competitiveness.

It made him feel like he’d found his place in the universe. 

It made him feel like he was home.

Garrus expected to be exhausted after another long day in the war room; especially considering his early start that morning. But he was restless when he settled into the battery for the night.

He wasn't about to go poking around for information, but he realized there was something about not knowing where the ship was headed that made him feel a little... uneasy.

He tossed and turned, wondering if he should take something to help him fall asleep. But he must have finally drifted off, because he woke up when he suddenly sensed someone next to him. 

He knew it was Shepard before he even opened his eyes.

And... she'd already started taking her clothes off...

His heart began to race as he got his bearings- he was definitely awake now!

“Shepard,” he tried to say, but she pressed her mouth to his before he could speak. She kissed him deeply while she ran her hands over his body, coaxing him out of his own clothes.

He was more than happy to oblige.

His erection throbbed with anticipation as she straddled him, and he let out a shuddering breath as the heat of her sex enveloped him.

He tried again to say her name... but she touched her fingertips to his mouth, urging him not to speak.

He didn't expect anyone would overhear them, but if that's what she wanted, then he would be quiet. And he had to admit; there was something uniquely intimate about it. Like they were sharing a cherished secret, just for them.

They panted and sighed as she rode him, and he couldn't keep his hands off of her. He ran them over her hips, her waist, her chest; losing himself in her impossible softness, and reminding himself to never, ever take these moments for granted...

She arched her back as she climaxed, and covered her mouth with her own hand to restrain her cries.

And he was sure to keep his own volume under control for her sake, as challenging as it was to restrain himself. 

They stayed connected as they caught their breath, and then sighed in unison when she gently slid off of him. He closed his eyes and savored the moment, anticipating the warmth of her body pressed against his, and already lulled by the comfort of having her in his bed...

Except, she didn't lower herself next to him.

Instead, she started getting dressed.

“Stay...” he dared to whisper.

As an answer, she kissed him again, cradling his face with her hands. He could sense the yearning in her tender affection, and a trembling sigh escaped her lips as she reluctantly pulled away from him.

But, she didn't speak.

And she didn't stay.

Nor would she when she came to visit him the next night.

Or the night after that.

Chapter Text

War Room, Normandy SR2, Audio Transcript

Re: Command Priority Override Request: Palaven/Earth

Status: Classified

[Begin Transcript 1.3/(xx)]

[VICTUS]: Commander Shepard, I need to speak with you.

[SHEPARD]: Of course. What's going on?

[VICTUS]: It’s... I’m sorry, Garrus, but this will be a private conversation. You're excused.

[VAKARIAN]: Sir?

[VICTUS]: I’ll let you know if I need anything else.

[SHEPARD]: It’s okay, Garrus. Dismissed.

[silence]

[VICTUS]: I find it interesting that he looks to you before heeding the request of his primarch.

[SHEPARD]: I, uh... hadn’t noticed.

[VICTUS]: I rather doubt that.

[SHEPARD]: Primarch Victus, what’s this all about?

[VICTUS]: We need to set an immediate course for Tuchanka.

[SHEPARD]: I don't understand- the cure isn’t ready yet.

[VICTUS]: This issue is unrelated to the genophage.

[SHEPARD]: Okay, so... are you going to tell me what’s going on?

[silence]

[VICTUS]: I... can’t.

[SHEPARD]: You can’t?

[VICTUS]: It’s highly classified.

[silence]

[SHEPARD]: If this is some kind of joke, I’m afraid I don’t get it.

[VICTUS]: Please understand. This is a matter of... galactic peace.

[SHEPARD]: Primarch, I can't just... Look, unless you can explain how this is more important than the Crucible, we have to get Archer to the rendezvous first.

[VICTUS]: I can assure you that this is more urgent.

[SHEPARD]: Let me get this straight- you’re saying there’s something happening on Tuchanka; it’s unrelated to the genophage; it’s more urgent than the Crucible project; and you’re not going to tell me what it is?

[VICTUS]: Commander, I need you to trust me.

[SHEPARD]: It goes both ways, Primarch. You have to understand the position you're putting me in, right? I can't prioritize a ‘mystery objective’ over our current mission. So, unless I can make an informed decision, we’re not changing course.

[VICTUS]: Then I request that we rendezvous with the nearest turian vessel, so I can disembark.

[SHEPARD]: Absolutely not- that would compromise our location. 

[VICTUS]: Commander Shepard, I need to get to Tuchanka immediately. I demand that you consider this a command priority override request; issued by the authority of Primarch, per diplomatic protocols between Earth and Palaven; and as sanctioned by Council directive.

[SHEPARD]: Primarch, I...

[VICTUS]: ...Well?

[silence]

[SHEPARD]: Request denied.

[VICTUS]: You're making a mistake, Shepard.

[SHEPARD]: (sigh) If... when you decide to trust me... my door is always open to you, Victus.

[silence]

[SHEPARD]: In the meantime, I’ll be on the bridge. Excuse me.

[silence]

[VICTUS]: Spirits help me... what have I done?

[End Transcript 1.3/(xx)]

Chapter Text

James

Huh.

Weird.

After they’d dropped off their math genius at the rendezvous, James could swear they’d set an immediate course for the Krogan DMZ.

So... what the hell was he doing on Earth, standing in the very house he grew up in?

As he took in his surroundings, he realized there was music playing- that old familiar tune that always eased his mind and warmed his soul- and he could hear the sweet voice of his abuela humming along.

♫♩ Que sera, sera ♫♩

He found her in the living room. “¡Jimmy!” She exclaimed when she saw him come in. “¡Cariño!”

“¿Abuelita?” He could hardly believe his eyes- he hadn’t seen her in so long! What had it been- ten years?

♫♩ Whatever will be, will be ♫♩

She beckoned him over, beaming with love and life. “Ven, baila conmigo,” she bade him.

He grinned as he approached her. She’d taught James how to dance when he was a kid. He liked to think he’d gotten pretty good; but, after she died, he just kinda... stopped. He’d figured he was getting a little bulky for that kind of thing, anyway.

♫♩ The future's not ours to see ♫♩

But now, he suddenly had a chance to make her smile again- and he wasn’t about to pass it up!

“¡Qué grande estás!” She noted with awe as she put her hands on his shoulders.

“Sí,” he agreed with a chuckle. He’d been pretty small when she first started teaching him; and by the time he’d grown tall enough to lead- well, by then she couldn’t dance anymore.

♫♩ Que sera, sera ♫♩ 

He leaned in, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her clear off of her feet. She laughed as he did so. 

She was light as a feather. And she smelled like gardenias.

“Me hiciste mucha falta, abuelita,” he told her as a bittersweet longing pulled at his heart.

♫♩ What will be, will be ♫♩

She kissed his cheek. “Te quiero, cariño.”

James spun her around, and continued to carry her as he stepped and swayed to the cheerful rhythm.

He felt so light. So loved. 

But then... the music slowed.

♫♩ Que... sera... sera... ♫♩ 

James lost his bearings and nearly stumbled.

Then his abuela gasped.

“¿Qué pasa?" He asked her with concern, "¿Todo bien?"

♫♩ Whatever... will be... will.... be... ♫♩ 

“Jimmy!” She whimpered, “Help us!”

James looked around, trying to discern the threat- but he didn’t see anything wrong.

♫♩ The future's... not ours... to.... see... ♫♩  

The music grew louder- and the melody became so distorted, he no longer recognized it. 

Que... sera... sera...

He clenched his teeth as the noise raked against his eardrums, and his abuela only grew more terrified. “Save us, Jimmy!” She cried as she clung to his shoulders, “They’re hurting us!”

He held her tight, desperate to protect her. “Who? Who’s hurting you?”

What... will... be... 

“Please!” She begged him, “Save us!”

Will... 

“Save us!”

Be...

“SAVE US!”

......

James awoke with a gasp; his heart racing a lightyear per second as he clutched his pillow to his chest with all his strength.

He slowly sat up and wiped away the tears that had trickled out of the corners of his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. Damn, he thought. He hadn’t had a dream that vivid- that intense- in a long, long time.

“Lo siento, abuelita,” he whispered to himself in the dark. Then he laid back down and tried his best to relax.

But he never did get back to sleep that night.

Shepard

Shepard wanted to swing by the mess for something warm to drink, but it was the strangest thing- she just couldn't get there. She tried to direct the lift to deck 3, but her commands were ignored. Was it down for maintenance, or something? Why didn’t anyone tell her?

Guess I can just go around, she decided. The fastest way was probably to cross over the outer bulkhead of the ship and go in through the emergency hatch. 

But as she stood atop the Normandy’s hull with her magnetized boots, she realized she didn't know which way to go.

Don't I do this all the time? She thought with confusion. Why can't I remember where it is?

She took a deep breath to get her bearings. It was kind of strange that she could breathe out here without her helmet... Er, wasn’t it?

Garrus suddenly appeared beside her, just as he'd promised. They had complete privacy now, and no one- not even EDI - would overhear their conversation.

“I have to tell you something, Garrus,” she finally confessed. “But, I'm so afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” He prompted her.

“Of... whatever comes next,” she said.

“Let’s just take it one step at a time,” he suggested.

Okay, here we go, she thought, steeling herself against the rush of dread coursing through her veins. “Before I blew up the Alpha relay,” she began tentatively, “Kenson's team tried to indoctrinate me, remember? They sedated me and left me next to the Reaper artifact.”

“Yeah, I remember you telling me about that.” 

“And I somehow knew it was happening,” she recalled with a trembling voice, “So I made myself have a nightmare. Because, depressing thoughts are supposed to slow down the process, right?”

He nodded. “The professor thinks so. Sounds like you did the right thing.”

“But, Garrus... what if...” She forced herself to push on, before her courage left her completely, “What if it didn’t work?”

He paused before responding. “What are you saying, Shepard?”

Breathe, she reminded herself desperately. “I’m saying,” she went on, “That... I think... I might be... indoc-”

“Quite the view,” he interrupted her before she could finish, beckoning above them.

She looked upward in confusion. A planet loomed over them as they idled in its orbit. Somehow, Shepard knew it was Tyvor- the colony world that she’d had to abandon to the Reapers only a few weeks ago.

And she could hear them all.

“Shepard!” Thousands of voices cried in unison from the planet’s surface, “Help us!”

Her heart constricted with guilt and regret. “I... I wanted to,” she tried to explain, “Please believe me, I wanted to help you!”

“Save us, Shepard! They’re hurting us!”

She sank to her knees. The voices resonated in her head, her heart, and her gut. It was like the roar of an engine. ‘I’m so sorry,” she rasped. She couldn't even hear her own voice anymore.

“Please!” They begged her, “Save us!”

“I can’t,” she said as she covered her face with her hands, “It’s too late.” 

“Save us!”

“SAVE US!”

......

When she violently thrashed awake, Shepard was alone in her bed.

Achingly alone.

But it was for the best, she reminded herself with a long, weary sigh.

Someone could have gotten hurt...

Or worse.

Garrus

Garrus was beyond annoyed to discover that someone had moved the entire thanix console into the war room- again. He wondered if he could quickly uninstall it and move it back where it belonged before anyone noticed.

But Shepard and Victus were also in the war room; so he should probably wait. In the meantime, he might as well just do his calibrations here.

But it was difficult to concentrate as he overheard the conversation unfolding between them.

“I'm beginning to understand why leaders so often seem lonely,” Victus admitted with a sigh.

“I know what you mean,” Shepard agreed. “No one else knows what it’s like to have the weight of the world on their shoulders. To be responsible for so many lives.”

“Yes,” he said, “It’s good to know that you understand, Commander.”

Garrus glanced in their direction, and noticed they were standing very close to one another. Then he felt a twist of dread in his gut as Shepard put her hand over the primarch’s. What the…?

Unsure what else to do, Garrus awkwardly cleared his throat.

But they didn’t acknowledge him.

It was like he wasn’t even there.

He watched as Shepard leaned in to speak softly into the primarch’s ear. “Are you lonely, Adrien?” She whispered.

Victus turned to her and lifted his hand to her cheek. “No,” he said quietly, “Not anymore.”

Garrus felt the blood drain from his face as they leaned in, closed their eyes, and pressed their foreheads together.

Oh no, he thought shamefully, I thought... that she and I... I thought that we...

Damn it, how could he have gotten this all so wrong?

Had he misinterpreted something?

Was he delusional?

Seriously, what the hell did he miss??

I should have told her, he realized as he watched their hands race over each other, their expressions desperate with desire. I should have told her I loved her... And now I’ve missed my chance.

But, if she didn’t feel the same way... then it was probably for the best.

Garrus couldn't stay here another minute. He wanted to leave; to run out of the war room and lock himself in the battery while his heart broke into a thousand jagged pieces...

But he couldn’t move. His feet were stuck to the floor.

He could only avert his gaze when Victus let out an eager growl and bent her over the table; and as Shepard gasped and moaned with pleasure while the primarch took her.

Garrus squeezed his eyes shut as their voices grew louder. The sound of their passion soon encompassed the war room. It echoed in his ears like gunfire. He desperately tried to imagine he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

“Garrus!” They suddenly exclaimed in unison, startling him to attention. He looked up and grimaced with confusion as they stared at him. Their bodies continued to writhe, but their expressions had contorted into... panic?

“Help us!” they begged him.

He scoffed in disbelief. “What?”

“Save us, Garrus!” They implored him desperately, “They’re hurting us!”

“I- I don’t understand!”

“Please!” They cried as they approached their passionate, inevitable climax, “Save us!”

“What the hell is going on??” He demanded as his thoughts and emotions devolved into unbearable chaos.

“Save us!” They shouted.

“SAVE US!”

......

Garrus was already sitting upright in his bed when he woke up panting.

Once he was able to calm down, he cursed to himself in frustration. What the hell, Brain? He berated his own subconscious mind. Was playing out that disturbing scenario really necessary?

That was just... completely uncalled for!

He laid back down, and let out a frustrated sigh as he failed to relax.

As if the Reaper nightmares weren’t bad enough...

Javik

What is that sound? Javik wondered. It was strange; alien; loud. Where was it coming from? 

He covered his ears, but it made no difference.

This is a dream, he realized. Then he sighed with relief as he settled into his surroundings.

Ever since he’d come out of stasis, his dreams had been disorienting and unpredictable. He often didn’t have control of his actions. Sometimes he didn’t even realize he was dreaming.

Now, it seemed his subconscious had finally adapted. He was lucid. He was in control of himself.

But that stubborn, unrelenting noise continued on. It seemed beyond his reach.

He activated the terminal in his quarters. Perhaps his subconscious reasoning could help him find the answers.

He tried to analyze the noise, studying the cacophony of frequencies that appeared on the holographic display. The sound was deep, and dissonant, and textured; but he could not identify the source. He couldn’t even venture a guess as to its nature.

“Old One!” The sound suddenly called to him, as the waves on the display pulsed and spiked with each word. “Help us!”

He balked. “Who are you?” He demanded.

“Save us, Old One!” They implored him, “They’re hurting us!”

He shook his head in confusion. He could make no sense of this.

“Please! Save us!”

“I can do nothing from here,” he replied warily. 

“Save us!”

“Save us!”

“SAVE US!”

......

Javik opened his eyes and took a deep, centering breath. It was quiet in his quarters- the strange sound had already faded to a distant echo within his mind.

But now that he was awake, he could think more clearly; and he began to make sense of what he’d just heard. He searched within his Knowing for the right words to describe it.

It was... a song, he realized. A haunting melody of pain, and fear, and desecration.

A song that somehow seemed composed of... oily shadows...

And... of sour, yellow notes...

Chapter Text

Have worked with Shepard on several imperative objectives. Very effective commander. Confident. Inquisitive. Persistent.

And, of course, notorious penchant for destruction. Considered to be part of her charm.

-Dr. Mordin Solus

Shepard

Shepard held her breath as the medbay doors opened and Dr. Mordin Solus stepped out onto the deck. She was so ready to be free of this awful limbo between ‘expecting the worst’ and ‘hoping for the best.’

The salarian professor let out a heavy sigh as the doors closed behind him.

Damn it.

“Synthesis attempt unsuccessful,” he reported evenly.

Shepard shot a look of warning toward the krogan warlord who stood beside her. She’d made Wrex promise to keep his shit together, no matter the results.

“How is she?” Wrex asked with surprising restraint (thank god).

“Recovering,”  Mordin replied. “No fever currently. Heart rate elevated, likely stress from procedure. Could use another blanket. Something soft. Have already submitted requisition request.”

Wrex cleared his throat. “Can I see her?”

The professor crossed his arms as he seemed to think it over. Then he gave a short nod, and stepped aside so Wrex could head in.

When the doors closed behind the krogan, Shepard let out a long breath. “Okay,” she said, "We knew this was likely, right?”

“Correct,” Mordin confirmed. “Multiple attempts expected.”

“How long until you can try again?”

“Dependent on patient health. Seventy-two hours. Perhaps longer.”

She nodded somberly. Every delay to curing the genophage meant more time for the Reapers to decimate Palaven and Earth. But, they were already doing everything they could. “Understood,” she said.

The salarian put a hand to his brow and let out another long, weary sigh.

“Hey,” Shepard said, “How are you doing, Mordin?”

He seemed to hesitate before answering. “Getting old, Shepard,” he finally said. “Not many years left. Prone to fatigue. However, still best candidate for project, even without youthful vigor.”

Shepard nodded sympathetically. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she wasn’t the only one on board carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “You definitely deserve a restful retirement when this is all over,” she was sure to tell him.

“Perhaps,” he concurred with a half shrug. “Have certainly made impact on galaxy. Genophage modification, genophage cure, work against Collectors... Decisions. Mistakes.”

“If you could visit anywhere in the galaxy,” she prompted him, “Where would you go?”

He smiled. “Somewhere sunny. Sit on beach, look at ocean, collect seashells.”

Shepard almost recommended Earth... but then she remembered that even if the human homeworld survived the Reapers, it wasn’t going to be a ‘vacation destination’ anytime soon. Maybe not for generations.

“You sure you won’t go crazy with nothing to do?” She joked instead, not wanting to tank the mood any lower than it needed to be.

He chuckled. “Might run tests on the seashells,” he admitted.

“Sounds perfect,” she agreed warmly. “Thanks for everything you’re doing, Mordin. Keep me posted, and let me know if you need anything.”

“Affirmative,” he acknowledged before they both went on with their day.

When Shepard entered the war room, Victus’ attention was focused on his console. He didn’t seem to notice her as she walked in. 

“Primarch,” she greeted him, “You wanted to talk?

He inhaled sharply, and his posture quickly straightened as he turned to face her. She’d clearly startled him. “Yes,” he said. “But, you’ll have to excuse me, Commander. I haven’t had much rest.”

She held back a grimace as she was reminded of her own lack of restful sleep. “I can definitely relate,” she granted him.

They were silent for a moment while the primarch seemed to gather his thoughts. “I want you to know that I'm grateful for all you’ve done, Commander,” he finally began.

“I could do a lot more if I had more information,” she replied coolly. 

He sighed. “I sent a platoon to complete a vital mission on Tuchanka,” he explained, “But their ship went down. And according to my most recent intel, they've been pinned by an advanced guard of Reapers for almost two days. They must be rescued, and they must complete their mission.”

Shepard tensed, remembering that Wrex had received his own intel about possible Reaper sightings on Tuchanka. It seemed the reports were accurate. At least they’re still just scouting, she tried to assure herself. “What are your men doing there?” She prompted the primarch, “What's their objective?”

“I'm sorry Commander, but I can’t share that with you yet. Not before we get to Tuchanka. But... there is something else you should know.”

She crossed her arms in disapproval. “I'm listening,” she said.

He couldn't seem to meet her gaze. “The commander of this mission is Lieutenant Tarquin Victus," he confessed. "My son.”

She stared at him in stunned silence as she processed what he'd just admitted to her.

“Commander?”

“I honestly don't know what to say,” she replied with a scoff. “And I can't decide whether this makes your override request better or worse."

“It was always about the mission,” he insisted. “I sent my son because I needed someone I could trust completely. Surely you can understand? In times like these, is there anyone you can trust more than family?” 

She shook her head, more incensed than ever by his evasiveness. “I wouldn't know, Primarch,” she snapped, “I’m an orphan.”

He sighed and put a hand to his brow in frustration. “I'm trying to reach an understanding here, Commander,” he said.

“I don't think that can happen while you're hiding vital information from me,” she argued.

“Decisions like these weigh heavily on me,” he explained. “When I was a general, I could pass things up the chain of command. But now... I’m all I’ve got.” He finally looked at her straight on. “Know what I mean?”

“That’s part of the problem , Primarch,” she pointed out, “You’re not keeping me in the dark because someone ordered you to- this is your choice.”

“You're right,” he said after another weary sigh. “And... I'm sorry.”

To Shepard's dismay, he still didn’t elaborate.

She was quiet for a moment as she carefully considered her next words. “We'll find your son and his platoon, Primarch,” she finally agreed.

He humbly lowered his head. “Thank you, Shepard.”

“But, for the record,” she clarified, “This isn't me being generous. This is me getting the answers I need, one way or the other.”

“Understood,” he said as she left him alone in the war room.

Shepard happened to cross paths with Dr. Chakwas in the CIC, and remembered that she’d been meaning to check in with her today. “Dr. Chakwas,” she said as she pulled her aside, “I wanted to ask- have you noticed anything... out of the ordinary lately? Concerning crew health, I mean?”

The doctor nodded. “As a matter of fact, I was debating whether or not to bring it to your attention directly,” she said. “I’ve had to prescribe an awful lot of stims today. It could be a coincidence, but I logged it as an anomalous event in my daily report so I could keep an eye on it.”

Shepard frowned with concern. “Damn, I guess we all had a rough night?”

“It would seem so,” Chakwas agreed. “Myself included, if I’m honest.”

“But what could have caused it?” Shepard asked. “Ship operations were routine yesterday. No parties, no late missions, no alarms...”

“Like I said, it could be a coincidence,” the doctor reiterated, “And, this sort of thing isn't unheard of aboard ships- some hypothesize that intercepting certain quantum vibrations can have an effect on sleep.”

“Hmm. What do you think?”

Chakwas gave a bewildered shrug. “Without more evidence, I can only assume that the stress of the mission is simply catching up to everyone at once.”

“Okay,” Shepard sighed. “Yeah, keep me posted if you learn anything else.”

“Of course, Commander.”

“Hey,” Shepard approached Garrus in the armory. “Random question: Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

“I’ll be honest, Shepard,” he replied, “I have trouble most nights.”

She nodded in understanding. “Same here,” she agreed, "But, was there anything unusual about last night? Like, did you have any... bad dreams?”

She thought she noticed his mandibles twitch awkwardly. “Er, let me think," He cleared his throat. “I, uh... don’t really remember the details, but yeah, I’m pretty sure I woke up from a nightmare.”

“Crazy,” she said, “Apparently everyone had a rough night.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone I've talked to today so far, anyway.”

“Hmm,” he mused, “I bet I know the problem.”

“Oh yeah?”

“We’ll be arriving at Tuchanka tomorrow. That’ll give anyone nightmares.”

She laughed, and then checked the time. It was getting late. “Maybe we can stagger some shifts tonight with the ops team, so they can catch up on some rest.”

“I'm sure they'll appreciate it. Let me know if I can help with that.”

“Thanks, I will,” she said gratefully.

“So...” he said after a brief pause, “Will I, uh... see you later tonight?”

Shepard felt herself blush. For several nights in a row, she’d been visiting Garrus in the battery for a quiet ‘midnight romp’ before finally heading to bed. But... maybe that wasn’t such a great idea this time. “Well, um... maybe we should focus on getting a solid night’s rest tonight,” she forced herself to suggest.

He nodded. “Probably the smart thing to do. But, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Unable to stop herself, Shepard put a hand on his cowl and pulled him in for a kiss. He returned her affection in kind. Damn it, maybe she didn't have the willpower to keep herself away tonight. She literally ached for him...

It was a monumental feat to finally pull herself away so they could get back to work. 

A part of her (a really big part of her) wished she could just order him to run away with her and leave all this bullshit behind. What if her days didn't begin and end with obsessing about the Reapers, she wondered wistfully? Why couldn't she spend all day obsessing about Garrus Vakarian, instead? When they were together, she was at peace. She felt whole. She felt like herself.  

And when she was lost in him... while she was loving him with every part of her body and soul... she could almost forget the heavy burden that otherwise weighed her down with every step.

More specifically... there were no imaginary children crying in the corner.

But, the thrashing nightmares were still out of control. So, unless she wanted to be restrained in her sleep (she really, really didn't), she was still too dangerous to share a bed with.

She wanted to tell Garrus what was happening to her. She’d planned to tell him. But, she just kept... chickening out, even though she knew it wasn't fair to him. Damn it, he deserved an explanation. But was there any way she could frame her plight that wouldn’t change everything? She could literally lose him forever. They might not even have a choice. 

And she just couldn’t risk giving him up. Not now, not ever. So, she avoided the subject at all costs. 

Of course, it was selfish. And cowardly. But, she needed him to-

She gasped out loud, feeling the blood drain from her face as she had a sudden, dreadful realization:

She knew that Garrus could tell she was hiding something. And she knew that it hurt him.

She also knew that he always welcomed her physical advances.

She knew these things.

Which meant...

Oh my god, she had to put a hand on the bulkhead to keep herself steady. Shepard, you absolute fucking asshole!

There was no other way to slice it, she realized; She wasn’t just being selfish...

...She was using him.

Chapter Text

James

Oof, James grimaced as stepped out of the shuttle. He felt his face flush within seconds, and his lungs quickly filled with stale, sweltering air. The krogan homeworld was hot!

At least it was a dry heat(?).

“Sorry I can’t get you in any closer, ma’am,” Cortez apologized once Shepard, James, and Garrus had boots on the ground.

“I trust your judgment, Lieutenant,” Shepard assured their shuttle pilot. “We’ll manage.”

“I’ll be standing by in orbit,” he reminded them, “Call me the second you need me.”

“Roger that,” she said.

“Stay safe, Esteban,” James bade him, giving the hull a quick slap before they cleared the site for take off.

“Lieutenant Victus,” Shepard paged their contact, “Do you read?”

“I read y... -ommander, but coms... -spotty...”

“Fire a flare,” Shepard implored him, “We’ll make our way to your position.”

They had their location within seconds, and wasted no time as they hurried to rendezvous with the Primarch’s son and his platoon. It wasn’t easy; they had to traverse a lot more rubble than James expected. And they had to plow through several heavy mobs of Reapers that swarmed the area.

Thankfully, there were no capital ships in sight as they made quick work of all the drones, husks, and harvesters in their way.

“A secret turian mission on Tuchanka is especially odd,” Garrus mused when they paused to rehydrate. “Thoughts?”

“You’re the turian,” James reminded him after gulping down a hydropack, “You tell us.”

He shook his head in bewilderment. “I got nothing, Lieutenant.”

Shepard let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve got a bad feeling that whatever it is, it’s really gonna suck.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, “People don’t usually go through this kinda trouble for a surprise fiesta.”

So, they braced themselves for bad news when they finally intercepted (what remained of) Lt. Victus' platoon.

But the reality of the situation turned out to be worse than any of them could have guessed. 

James couldn't really discern family resemblances among turians (or any aliens, if he was honest), but it was pretty obvious that Lt. Tarquin Victus did not take after his dad.

It was how he carried himself, James decided. The Primarch had an air of confidence and gravitas; while Junior here seemed completely out of his element.

“What happened here?” Shepard demanded of the young lieutenant once they secured the area.

James' eyes widened with alarm when one of the soldiers physically shoved his superior officer in response.

“He screwed up!” the turian growled accusingly.

“Stand down, soldier!” Lt. Victus ordered him as he regained his footing.

“These men are dead because of you!” He argued back.

“I said, stand down!” the lieutenant said again. It was obvious to James that he was struggling to appear in control of the situation. Was this his first time commanding a mission, he wondered? Seriously, what kind of amateur clusterfuck had they just stumbled into?

“Hey!” Shepard admonished them tersely, “Everyone just calm down, alright?”

“Good thing daddy sent in backup,” the soldier sneered in disgust.

“I said cool it!” Shepard barked as she stepped in front of him aggressively.

“You’re not authorized to give orders around here, human,” he argued.

“The hell she isn’t,” Garrus warned him, "Commander Shepard is a Spectre, in case you didn’t know.”

The soldier huffed, then stormed off before Shepard or Victus had a chance to dismiss him. James watched as he limped back over to the rest of his demoralized platoon, clenching his fists in frustration.

Lt. Victus hung his head and sighed. “Commander,” he said, “I’m sorry, I-”

“We’ll deal with that other shit in a minute,” Shepard cut him off. “Right now, I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

“I... I made a bad call,” he finally explained after a tense pause. “This is all on me. I chose caution and clever tactics over a head-on attack, and my men paid the price.”

“What do you mean?” Shepard asked.

“We could see on holo that Reaper forces were blocking our intended path,” he explained, “Staying on course guaranteed heavy casualties. So, I chose a safer route, skirting the enemy, and that took us low and through these ruins. When we encountered resistance, there was no room to maneuver. Suddenly, we were in a fight for our lives. A lot of my men lost that fight.”

The commander cocked her head in expectation when he didn’t continue. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, “But I need to know about your mission, not how you crashed.”

“Our mission is a failure,” he said. “And now that you’ve cleared our airspace, we can stabilize the injured and head back to the fleet.”

James watched Shepard’s expression harden into a dire scowl as she glared at the Primarch’s son. “No one’s going anywhere until you tell me what you came here to do,” she insisted.

Lt. Victus hesitated... but then finally decided to come clean. “There’s a bomb on the planet,” he said. “We were sent to defuse it.”

Oh, shit. 

“What kind of bomb?” Shepard pressed him.

“The kind that would scrub the population in a week from the fallout,” he said. “And... Cerberus has it.”

They were shocked into momentary silence at the revelation. What the hell? James thought incredulously, Cerberus again?? “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he blurted out.

Shepard took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I assume you have a nav point?” She asked him evenly.

“Yeah,” Lt. Victus replied. “It’s about two hundred clicks from here- it’s sitting right on the equator.”

Shepard pulled up her omnitool. “Cortez,” she paged their pilot, “Get a fix on our position and meet us here.”

“Affirmative,” he replied over com. “On my way.”

“How soon can you all be ready to move out?” She asked Victus.

"We're down over thirty men, Commander," he replied, “It’d be suicide.”

Shepard shook her head. “Leaving that bomb with Cerberus is not an option,” she insisted. 

“My men have lost hope,” he argued. “Even if I wanted to finish the mission... they don’t.”

“Lieutenant Victus,” Shepard countered sharply, “Your job is to make them want to.”

He put his hands out in confusion. “How?”

“By setting a fucking example!” She hissed in frustration. “You don't give up on your mission, and you damn well don't give up on your men!”

“But I-”

“You made a mistake,” she finished for him. “We all make mistakes- that's part of the job. But you don't just fucking quit.”

James caught himself nodding in agreement. Shepard had her faults, but she was a hell of a leader. The Primarch’s son could definitely learn a thing or two if he took her advice seriously.

The young lieutenant hung his head. “You're right, Commander,” he agreed soberly. “Just... tell me what I need to do.”

Shepard waved the Kodiak over as it suddenly appeared from the west, and Cortez set down at a clearing in the rubble just inside their perimeter.

“Come on, the shuttle console can boost our coms,” she said as she beckoned for them all to follow her. “We’re gonna need to have a word with the Primarch.”

James and Garrus trailed behind as they brought up the rear. “What a mess,” James muttered aloud. 

“You can say that again,” Garrus agreed.

“What do you make of the Primarch's kid?”

“A part of me feels sorry for the guy,” he admitted. “Being the son of Adrien Victus is a lot to live up to. It’s a big military name on Palaven. War’s expected to run in the Victus blood.”

James sighed sympathetically. “Doesn’t always work that way,” he said. “You gotta make your own name.”

“Personally, I agree with you,” said Garrus. “But for a turian commander, what happened here is... let’s just say the turian code is not forgiving. This is very bad for the Primarch.”

“I'm guessing nepotism is pretty frowned upon in turian culture?”

Garrus nodded. “Promoting family without merit can really bite you in the ass. What’s strange is, the Primarch knows that.”

They discontinued the subject when they caught up to the shuttle. The hatch was open while the commander and the lieutenant huddled in the pilot cabin with Cortez.

James heard the blip of a vid call connecting to the Normandy while he and Garrus lingered outside.