Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Earth, Fourteen Months After the end of ME3 – Destroy Ending

“Sheperrrrrd!”

“In here,” Shepard answered.

She turned to the door and watched as Urdnot Wrex entered the room, eyes immediately darting to the corner as he held out a portable communicator. “Here,” he said with his usual gruffness. “We finally got to that Operative Lawson human.”

Shepard’s heart skipped a beat. Communications had gone to hell with the damage to the relays, talking to anyone across the galaxy becoming as difficult as it was to get to anyone across the galaxy. She grabbed the handheld from Wrex and quickly spoke into the interface, “Miranda?”

“Shepard, that you? It’s great to hear a familiar voice.”

Shepard’s eyes briefly shut at the welcome sound of Miranda’s voice over the crackling static of several light years and pieced together communication arrays. “Yes, it’s me, Miranda. Same here. Where are you? What are you up to?” Shepard knew that there was precious little time for pleasantries, but she didn’t have the words to just spit out what it was that she needed. Finding out what Miranda was doing might save her from asking anyway. If her old friend wasn’t in the position to... If she didn’t… Shepard shut down that line of thought, not wanting to think about it.

“I’m at Sanctuary, believe it or not,” Miranda replied. “I’ve got the place back up and running, doing what it was originally set out to do. With the Illusive Man gone, all the Cerberus resources were left there for the taking and so I did. I’m finally putting all of his wealth, connection and power to good use. Oriana has been a great help. It’s…it’s been good, Shepard. What about you? Still on Earth? Living the hero’s life?”

“You could say that,” Shepard said smiling, tiny bits of relief (and hope) blossoming in her belly. “I have to ask you something, Miranda. I need a favor.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy hearing from you, but I did anticipate that this wouldn’t be an entirely social call.”

“Do you have scientists there? Doctors? Equipment? Like when you worked on me?”

There was a pause before Miranda answered and Shepard’s heart fell at the thought that she might’ve lost contact with her old friend before she had had a chance to ask her favor. But then Miranda replied, “Uh, yes, some. Not exactly as during your project, of course, but highly capable just the same. Why? Is there a problem with your cybernetics?”

“Great,” Shepard answered with a sigh of relief, shutting her eyes and tilting her face up toward the heavens in a gesture that spoke of prayers answered and worries soothed. “That’s, that’s great news.”

“What’s the matter, Shepard. You sound…different. What do you need? Are you ill?”

“No, no,” Shepard replied, wiping at her eyes and composing herself and turning her body away from the watchful, knowing gaze of Urdnot Wrex. “It’s not for me. I’m fine. It’s…it’s complicated. I want to start heading your way. It’ll take some time, but I have someone that needs help. I was hoping you’d be willing to take on another project.”

“Anything for you, Shepard,” Miranda replied. “You know that.”

“Great. I’ll start sending you some files now that I’ve found you. That way you can be prepared for when we arrive.”

“We? Are you going to remain mysterious about it? I’m dying over here. Please tell me, is it Garrus?”

“No,” Shepard replied, leaning over the small bassinet that she was standing by and looking down at the tiny creature sleeping soundly on its side.

Jane reached down and ran her finger along its small head, running along the ridges and bumps, over the bandages and tubes as she made her way down the small arm and to the tiny braces that held slim hips in place and went all the way down to upturned toes.

“We haven’t found the Normandy yet,” Jane continued. “I don’t know where Garrus is. Whether or not he,” she stopped, trying but failing to keep the emotion out of her voice. She drew her hand back and swallowed. “We’re still looking,” she amended as she turned away from the crib and looked back toward her friend and current default protector, Urdnot Wrex. “But…but it does have something to do with him. Something very important.”

Chapter Text

Earth, a few days later

“This isn’t right, Shepard.”

“I’ll be fine, Wrex,” Jane assures him as she gnaws on her thumbnail and triple checks her diaper bag for the thousandth time. The large krogan beside her makes a sound like a harrumph and she looks over to him.

He’s holding her baby in his big arms, making the tiny-even-for-a-newborn look even tinier. But he looks comfortable, they both do, like a natural, like he did from the very first moment he met Baby Girl Vakarian for the very first time. He bounces his knees a bit and walks as far as all the wires and tubes hooked to her baby’s chest and forehead will allow him. He hasn’t taken his crimson eyes off of the bundle he’s cradling and Shepard realizes (she should’ve known) that it isn’t her the big lug is worried about.

“We’ll both be fine,” Shepard amends, walking toward him and placing her hand on his shoulder, looking over his bulk and muscle so that she can catch a glimpse of her child.

Gabrielle Vakarian weighs in at a whopping five pounds of pure determination and miracles. She’s a strange collaboration of both human and turian design, much like the Normandy. Her ice blue eyes rival the intensity of her father’s although they are shaped and flocked with eyelashes like her mother’s. She has human skin covering her entire body, although it is tough and flaky in parts, resembling severe eczema (or so say the doctors). Beneath her skin, although not everywhere, she has plates, like her father. And she has Garrus’ nose, broken down in little, flat subsections that crinkle beneath her human skin when she yawns or cries.

Jane reaches over and trails her finger along the baby’s cheek thinking that she is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen in the entire universe. Wrex had not been so complimentary upon seeing her for the first time, deliberating very vocally on the possibility that having ugly offspring was a good survival measure and stating most vehemently that nothing in the galaxy would look at that ‘thing’ and want to eat it. Shepard responded something along the lines of: From you, Wrex, I’ll take that as a compliment.

Wrex took his own hand and ran his thumb over the subdermal plates on the baby’s forehead. “She’ll be able to headbutt just like her momma,” he growled.

Jane smiled. “That she will.”

The krogan stiffened next to her. “What about Vakarian, Shepard? “He wouldn’t leave you.”

It was hard to miss the judgmental tone of his words. “I’m not leaving him, Wrex. When they find him, he’ll come to me.”

Wrex growled softly. "Women and all their ideas," he muttered.

Men, Shepard decided, were the same everywhere. “Garrus would do the same for her, he would go anywhere, do anything -just as I plan to do,” she returned, a fire simmering in her belly. “And I’d want him to and you know Garrus would want me to. Why are you doing this, Wrex? You’re not being fair. Miranda can help her. You’ve heard what the doctors around here have said, have been saying since the day I had her. Do you expect me to sit around here and count the days until she-”

“Sheperrrrd,” Wrex growled, cutting her off and Shepard can't help but recall the vision of his claws, the same claws now sweetly cradling her baby, wrapped around the neck of the poor doctor that dared to utter anything about the inevitabilities that Shepard would soon have to face. He continued, more lightheartedly as he looked down at the baby, “You always were an easy one to rile, weren’t you? I don’t want you to go,” he confessed. “The little pyjack kinda grew on me, what with the way that she looks so darn pitiful all the time, mewling and crying and soiling her underwear.” And then he added with a mumble just under his breath but clearly enough for Shepard to hear, “Just like her daddy.”

“Wrex,” Shepard warned in her own damn fine version of a growl.

“Aaah,” he grumbled, turning to look at her. “Don’t listen to me. I’ll have a few of these of my own running around soon and you’ll go and do what you gotta do. Just like you always do. And you’ll both be fine.”

Jane drew in a deep breath and smiled at him. “Thank you, Wrex.”

“Just don’t let her forget her Uncle Wrexy. You got that?”

“Uncle Wrexy?” Shepard clarified with a lift of her eyebrows, her mouth curling up at the ends.

Wrex leaned toward her, narrowing his large eyes into slits and puffing out his chest plates. “Did I stutter?”

“No, Uncle Wrexy,” Shepard replied seriously. “You most certainly did not.”

Chapter Text

The next morning the sound of an airship landing not far from her house interrupted what would be her and Wrex’s last breakfast together.

“Sounds like my ride is here,” Shepard announced breezily. Wrex still wasn’t happy with her leaving Earth and she still had her fears and reservations about traveling across the galaxy with a six-month-old, miracle baby. But when she had called Hackett requesting that “extraction we had talked about”, he had assured her that he was going to send the ‘very best’ to pick her up and deliver them to Sanctuary.

And she had every faith that Hackett wouldn’t let her down.

Wrex was the first to noisily push his chair away from the kitchen table and walk toward the back door. “Hmph,” he sagely verbalized his first impression of her ride. “Looks like you’ll be traveling in the lap of luxury, Shepard.”

Jane pushed herself away from the table cautiously. Somehow Wrex’s initial ‘humph’ did not quite align to his subsequent assessment. She walked toward the back door, following Wrex out to get a look at Hackett’s ‘very best’.

A crowded transport vessel was powering down in a field across the way. No fewer than a dozen beings were filing out of it, most of them Krogans.

Wrex looked back questioningly at Shepard.

She knew what he was thinking. She was the one that had been assuring him that she and Gabby would be taken care of, that Hackett would take care of her. Looking out to the shabby vessel that awaited her and her daughter, thinking back on all that she had done for Hackett and the universe as a whole, knowing that she had never asked for anything in return. Jane looked away, sighed and turned around to go back inside.

“Where’re you going, Shepard?” Wrex asked as he followed her.

“To get my things.”

“Are you seriously-”

“Look,” she swung around and cut Wrex off before he could continue. “Hackett promised me the best he could get, if this is the best he could get – I trust him. End of story. Got it?”

“Easy, Shepard,” Wrex replied innocently. “I’m not surprised this is all the Alliance thought to send for you. Why? Are you?” He laughed heartily.

His words stung but Jane knew that he was only masking his own worry and reluctance so she left his comment go unanswered.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Jane carried the sleeping Gabby in a frontal sling while Wrex trundled the few bags she had packed for the two of them. Seeing the tattered transport up close was even more sobering then that first glimpse of it and mingling in between all the passengers that needed to be loaded back onto it made Jane worry that she would not be able to bring all the luggage that she had already meticulously itemized and prioritized to travel as lightly as humanly possible.

“You in charge here?” She asked the stocky Krogan that stood near the entrance holding an electronic datapad in his hands and barking orders at the passengers about not wandering off.

The Krogan looked up and eyed her only perfunctorily before moving on to Wrex and addressing him by saying, “Urdnot Wrex! Welcome aboard! Sitting this thing down only a few clicks after loading it up is a major pain in the quads, but for you I’d do it three more times, well, two at least.” He laughed.

“I’m sorry, what?” Shepard interrupted, grabbing the Krogan’s arm as he and Wrex began to eagerly shake hands and reminisce. “I thought this thing was heading to Sanctuary?”

The Krogan’s eyes remained on Wrex, seeming in no mood to entertain an annoying human, but some unspoken form of communication must’ve quickly passed between Wrex and him because he straightened up a bit and replied respectfully, “No, ma’am, this transport is going to Tuchanka. We’re here for Urdnot Wrex.” It seemed that was all the information he was going to give until, in reaction to Shepard’s nonverbal response to this answer, he quickly added, “Uh, your transport is still incoming.”

Shepard stepped back a little, not realizing that she had been invading the Krogan’s space and priming for a fight. She ran her hand over Gabby’s back and looked at Wrex. “You knew about this?”

Wrex shrugged. “What am I going to do on Earth without you, Shepard? Besides, I have a fertile female waiting for me and you aren’t the only one that Hackett owes a few favors to.”

The sound of an incoming ship filled the air as if on cue. The pair turned their heads to take a look at it, Shepard shielding her eyes with her hands as she searched the sky for what was arriving. The sun danced off of the sleek frigate as it set down lightly a few meters away. Shepard bit her lip at the sight of it while Wrex whistled and mumbled something about human favoritism. Long and lean with clean lines and flying the Alliance colors, the ship easily reminded her of the Normandy and a pang of longing ground in her chest like a turning knife.

With the arrival of the second ship, the engines on the Krogan transport stirred to life while dozens of Krogans began to reboard grudgingly following the Krogan-in-charge as he shouted orders and heckled at a few stragglers.

Jane turned back to look at Wrex and found him already studying her. A large lump swelled inside of her chest as she eyed the old Krogan affectionately. “You’ve been with me from the very beginning, big guy,” she shouted over the din.

“And I’m there for you ‘til the end,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Shepard stood there for a long moment looking at him. There was so much that she wanted to say, wanted to thank him for. How could she put it all into a few quick words? There was certainly nothing she could say that could do justice to what she wanted to convey. From the fight against Saren to their final stand on Earth, not to mention how pivotal he had been this last year or so with her and Gabby. How could all of that possibly be put into words? Maybe she had finally found an upside to being blown up, she thought pensively. At least it had saved her from having to tell her entire crew goodbye each time.

Wrex shuffled on his feet a few times before saying, “That’s about all you’re going to get out of me, Shepard. Krogans aren’t much into the mushy stuff.”

She smiled, swiping at a tear a two as they struggled loose. “Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you as Uncle Wrexy,” she teased.

Wrex growled and chuckled amusedly at the comment. “You’re one hell of a human being, Shepard,” he said as he grabbed her shoulder roughly.

They stared each other down for a long moment before Wrex drew her in closer to him. The pair of old friends and soldiers hugged tenderly, careful not to crush the sleeping baby between them. “Just try not to die…again,” Wrex whispered before finally drawing away from her and adding, “It’s getting kinda old.”

XXX-OOOO-XXXX

Uncle Wrexy had said his goodbyes to Gabby. For her part, the baby had opened her eyes briefly and eyed him sleepily, before chirping a few times and falling back to sleep. Now Jane stood there rubbing her back while she watched the Krogan transport lift off and disappear into the distance.

Once gone, Shepard turned her attention to the awaiting frigate. There had been no indication of a welcoming party, in fact, the hatch hadn’t even been open yet. Undeterred, Jane began walking toward the awaiting ship. Her legs were still not what they had once been and her progress was slow and painful. It was easy not to be reminded of the injuries she had sustained on the Citadel when she had remained confined to a tiny house and had no need to go anywhere.

As she approached, the main hatch hissed open and the entry ramp unfurled smoothly, setting down upon the grassy earth without a sound. A figure appeared in the doorway and even though Jane squinted and held her hand up to cover her eyes again, she had known immediately who it was as soon as she saw him. She would recognize that rigid posture anywhere.

She was a little surprised to see him, but not really. It seemed perfectly reasonable if she stopped to think about it. When he began to descend the ramp, she stopped walking. Mainly because she was aching and wanted to collect herself. But also because it just seemed like the thing to do. She had run around the universe and did his bidding for so long now, it was only fitting that he could walk a few meters to her while she stood and waited.

“Shepard,” he said in the way of a greeting. His eyes were studying her, studying the interesting squirming lump that she was holding in her sling. When he looked back up to her, he said nothing. She noticed the usual ‘you look good’ was replaced with an unvoiced air of concern.

It’s not that she didn’t know what she looked like, the scars and discoloration on parts of her neck and face. The damaged skin and patches of missing hair. It’s just that she never really thought about it. Her constant house guest, Wrex, had never commented on it. Although for a Krogan she thought that she probably looked damned good. It was only when she saw people that used to know her, that knew what she was supposed to look like, that she got this reaction. Another hidden benefit of her self-induced exile, she mused.

“Well, color me surprised,” she said lightly. “Don’t you have any better things to do?”

Hackett smiled back at her. “I did promise you the best and I know how demanding you can be.”

“Hmph. Never did have a problem with the old ego, did you?”

Hackett laughed. “Yeah, well, the Alliance might also be interested in what Operative Lawson is up to with Sanctuary and all of the Illusive Man’s remaining assets.”

She nodded her head in understanding. “I see.”

“Shall we get going?” He asked, stepping aside and holding his hand out in the direction of the entry ramp.

“Sounds good. My luggage is setting over there.”

Hackett looked over toward where she and Wrex had left her belongings. He nodded his head and replied, “I’ll have the crew pick it up. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Alliance Frigate, en route to Sanctuary

Admiral Hackett escorted Jane and Gabby to their quarters aboard the SSV Blenheim, stopping along the way to introduce them to a few key contacts that would aid them during their long journey. The two main introductions were to the ship’s Chief Medical Officer, a Salarian named Dr. Ursin Zaels who answered to Dr. Z. And the ship’s procurement officer and chef, a human, named Dennis Bryce.

Once at their quarters, Jane found them to be surprisingly large and well-appointed, so much so that she wondered if they were the captain’s quarters. After taking in her surroundings, she turned to look at the Admiral as he was overseeing the last of her luggage delivery and thanking the crew as they left.

When they were alone in the room, Hackett turned to look at Jane. “Everything alright, Commander?” he asked.

“More than alright,” she answered. “And…I’m not technically a commander any longer,” she added as she delicately extricated Gabby from her travel sling.

The baby’s arms and legs flailed excitedly upon being freed from her constraints and she let out a high-pitched trill to voice her appreciation to her mother.

“Yes, I know,” Jane answered her daughter’s animations as she hung the sling on the back of a lounge chair and moved to pick up one of her small bags.

“Can I hold her?”

Jane turned toward the man who had asked the question and looked down at Gabby who was smiling coquettishly at the Admiral. “You don’t have to,” she replied, bouncing Gabby from one hip to the other. “I can get all of this unpacked when she takes her nap.” Gabby made a buzzing sound with her lips and threw her weight from side-to-side as Shepard did her best to appear as though she wasn’t struggling to contain her.

Hackett raised an eyebrow. “A nap doesn’t look like it’s in the cards for her anytime soon.”

“No, it is really,” she replied, switching Gabby’s position one more time and holding her firmly. “I’ve got it. We’re fine. You don’t have to-”

“I know it’s not mandatory, Shepard,” he said with a friendly clip. And then he turned his attention to the baby, smiled and clapped his hands together in a gesture of invitation.

Gabby squealed and leaned towards him. “Are you sure?” Shepard asked again, struggling to hold Gabby back.

“I’m beginning to get the feeling that you don’t trust me, Commander. Are you afraid I’m going to drop her?”

“No, of course not,” she replied quickly. “And of course, I trust you, Sir,” Jane whispered, looking down at her daughter before releasing her into the Admiral’s awaiting arms.

Once Hackett had the baby in his hands he turned away from Shepard and began to speak to the infant, answering unvoiced questions as Gabby pointed to various objects throughout the room. Jane stood and watched for a long moment, enjoying the site of someone she admired so wholeheartedly doting on her little girl. It made her heart swell with emotion.

Hackett turned toward her and he seemed to recognize the look painted across her face. He took one brief moment to provide her with a knowing wink and a smile before he turned to Gabby and teased, “You see what a troublesome little soldier your Mommy can be? She’s supposed to be unpacking and yet she’s just standing around staring at us. It’s the story of her career, it is. Never, ever one to follow orders, no ma’am.”

“Alright, alright,” Shepard stopped him. “I get the hint.” And with that she turned around and began to unpack.

She started with Gabby’s things: the bassinet and feeding chair and then the feeding apparatus, medicines and monitors. And although the medical paraphernalia might look overwhelming to some, it paled in comparison to what the newborn had started out with in life. No, unpacking all these things and thinking back to the very beginning - it hadn’t been an easy go so far for the two of them. Baby Vakarian had come in to the world just a tad too early, without all the right human parts and not enough turian parts to make sense, either.

Taking care of her, feeding her, bathing her, everything had been an adventure, a process of elimination on what worked and what didn’t. What she responded to and what she rejected. What were her limits, her tolerances, her preferences and the like. It had been eerily similar to the journey that she and Garrus had taken to (happily) find themselves in bed together. And although there were still physical issues that would have to be addressed (hence this risky trip), the baby had been relatively healthy since spending the first two months of her life in a NeoNatal Intensive Care Unit in the outskirts of Frankfurt, Germany.

Shepard moved onto the clothing and toiletry items as she thought back again to finally leaving London. It had been Shepard that had insisted on relocating to have Gabrielle in peace somewhere away from public scrutiny and widespread catastrophe. Frankfurt was a large city, not terribly far from London but far enough to have very little Alliance presence and it had not been large enough to attract a full battalion of Reaper forces. Gabrielle had been born in Frankfurt, but it had been in sleepy Wiesbaden, a town situated on the outskirts of Frankfurt that had not suffered any damage during the recent invasion that Shepard, Gabrielle and Wrex had spent their days together.

Jane ventured a peak over to where the Admiral was holding Gabby. She was much less animated now and his teasing tones had turned to soothing ones as he held her close and patted her back. The Admiral had not been a proponent of Shepard's relocation plan at the time. But even he had come to see reason as the epic scale of death and destruction in London contrasted so starkly to the growing bump of hope in Shepard’s stomach. In the end he had secured high level transport for her and ensured that she had a safe place to stay and all the resources that she and the baby required.

When Jane tucked the last of Gabby’s clothing into a dresser drawer, she turned around to find Hackett sitting on the lounger, stroking the back of one contented, sleeping infant.

“See? I told you she would nap,” Shepard whispered as she walked towards them. “Here, let me take her.”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Once Gabby was tucked into her bassinet the two old friends had a seat around the coffee table and commenced to share a bottle of wine.

The initial conversation was about the Relays and rebuilding. Hackett debriefed Shepard on the status of the galaxy in the aftermath of the war. Jane listened intently but was surprised at just how little she cared. After giving so much of her life and herself to the betterment of the universe, her focus now could not be more different and each time the Admiral mentioned some growing issue or area of concern, she found herself glancing over to the other side of the room.

Either Hackett hadn’t notice or had decided not to comment on Shepard’s newfound indifference and as the night grew later and the wine continued to pour, the conversation inevitably drifted closer to home. Hackett, looking about the room, let his eyes land on the bassinet as he said, “You’re doing a fine job, Shepard.”

Jane smiled and nodded as she turned to follow his gaze. There was so much that she had held in check those first few months living with Wrex. The Krogan didn’t exactly have a sympathetic ear. She guessed that that had been the best thing at the time. It had kept her hard and focused. But now, whether it was the wine or the weariness of travel, she let a little bit of those old feelings creep up to the surface.

“I worry,” she whispered. And when her eyes traveled back around to meet the Admiral's, she added, “She won’t have it easy.”

“Did you?” Hackett asked. “Did any of us? That’s life, Commander,” he said, pointing toward Gabby. “Life is hard in whatever shape and form it takes. It molds us. We mold it in return. There’s no getting around a little heartache and pain.”

“I never took you for waxing philosophical, sir.”

“It’s the wine,” he quipped, swirling his glass a few times. “I found some of my best tactical strategies at the bottom of a bottle.” He took a long swig from his glass and then added with a chuckle, “and some of my worse.”

Shepard smiled and took a long pull off of her drink as well.

After a long, shared silence, Hackett seemed to sober a little and then say, “You said earlier that you weren’t ‘technically a commander any longer’. Any idea why that is?”

After a quick reflexive guffaw, she shuffled in her seat a little and took his question seriously. With a quick glance back to the bassinet and monitors, she turned back to him and said, “I thought that might be obvious, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“It’s obvious that you have new parameters,” he answered succinctly. “A different set of priorities. But that doesn't change the fact of who you are, of who you will always be.”

Shepard felt the heat rising up her chest and to her cheeks. Hadn’t she done enough? Was he really sitting here asking her why she wasn’t doing more? Her temper flared. Years and years she had given and with very little complaint. She could not stop herself from replying with more than a little grit behind the words, when she said, “With all due respect, Admiral. Haven’t I done enough?”

Hackett eyed her steadily. He did not seem upset by her tone or demeanor. In fact, he calmly took his glass and set it down on the table between them. “I’m no parent, Commander.”

Jane scowled and scoffed. No, he was not a parent and couldn’t possibly understand and she took his use of her old title in the current conversation as a slap in the face. She sat and fumed further still.

Unperturbed by her reaction, the Admiral continued. “But I am a leader and I am responsible for many, many souls. I see their potential and groom it. I accept their faults and equip them with the means to overcome them. When they succeed, I praise them. When they fail, I reassure them. When they make mistakes, I forgive them. I prepare them the best I can for what I know they will have to face. I instill in them confidence and courage. When they die, I bury them. When they hurt, I counsel them. When they are injured, I mend them. Their pain is mine. Their victories…I let them have.” He stopped for a moment. Her ire had begun to cool with his words. He drew in a deep breath and continued, “I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to draw a parallel line between being a leader and being a parent.”

Jane swallowed. She wanted to answer him. Wanted to say: No sir, it isn’t. But she didn’t. She moved to sit back in her chair and take a sip of wine, but she couldn’t. Placing her glass down on the table, she pressed her hands against her knees and stood.

As she began to walk over toward the bassinet, Hackett remained sitting but continued to speak to her. “I am always and forever will be an officer in this man’s army. It is who I am. And as such I keep myself constantly and consistently ready for duty at all times. I owe that to each and every one of those men that I send out into the universe to follow my lead. Because if I’m not at my best, mentally and physically, then I am not up to the task of leading.”

Shepard stood over Gabby’s bassinet and ran her finger along the padded edge. She could see very clearly now what her old friend was saying and it had nothing to do with going off and saving the galaxy again.

She heard Hackett get up from the lounger behind her. “I guess I should be going,” he said. “I’ll show myself out.”

Like a statue, Jane stood over her daughter’s bassinet and stared blankly at the sleeping child within it. As she heard the door cycle shut behind her, Hackett’s words swirled dizzyingly through her mind. Nothing moved in the silent officer’s quarters for a long, long while after that, save the rise and fall of Gabby’s little chest, the steady rhythm of her monitors and a few stray tears down Shepard’s cheek.

Chapter Text

Jane began to attach the monitors to her baby’s head and chest. Gabby squirmed and cooed softly in protest but did not waken. The doctors, before she had left Earth, had told her that she could begin to use the monitors only while Gabby slept and although her baby seemed to enjoy the freedom of losing her cumbersome tethers, Jane had found that the steady rhythmic feedback of her baby’s heartbeat and breathing on the screen and the corresponding satisfying beeps were a crutch that might be harder to give up than anticipated.

Other than the monitors, Gabrielle was fed supplementally via a tube and wore braces on her hips to help her fragile spinal column support her. But these were tiny concessions when pitted against the initial prognoses for her. Jane would’ve never considered this trip had Gabrielle been a sickly child, prone to infections and illness. Still, she knew that there were risks and not having an entire medical facility at their disposal or the right equipment and specialists on hand could make even the most mundane issues critical. That was something Garrus had always chided her about.

Garrus. God how she missed him. He hadn’t been there when she woke up in London. Hackett had ordered all fleets, including the Normandy, out of the Sol system as he talked Shepard through her final moments on the Citadel. The rendezvous point where everyone had been ordered to evacuate to, however, had only welcomed less than one third of the ships that had been able to leave Earth prior to the explosion and the Normandy had not been in that number. Now, with only a fraction of the Mass Relays functioning and communications in the state they were in, there was no telling when they might finally find them…or discover their final fate.

That was why this trip to Sanctuary was taking weeks or potentially months instead of a few days. There would be long FTL trips in between several scheduled stops for supplies to jump through the few working relays that were up and functioning in the galaxy. By the time they reached Miranda, Gabrielle could very well be turning one. A milestone that should include walking and the first chatter of communication. Shepard smiled wistfully as she looked back down at Gabby, who slept peacefully in the soothing sounds of her beeping monitors.

Jane turned away from the bassinet and headed toward the lavatory. On the way she ran her finger along the line of the desk there, thinking back to when she would stumble into her Captain’s Quarters onboard the Normandy after every mission and no matter what shape she was in she would check her personal terminal, study the influx of new missions and entreaties, peruse the few notes of gratitude and well-wishes and resolve herself to step inside of the shower, rinse off the blood, sweat and tears of her most recent victory or defeat and ready herself for what the next day (or minute) would bring.

She looked up toward the blank screen of this compartment’s vidcomm and reminisced about the numerous conversations that she had shared over the years, over the vast distance of space. The decisions made. The histories and futures they had shaped. Shutting her eyes, she pressed her open hands against the cool material of the desk and breathed in and out heavily. After several moments she glanced up, eyeing the inert vidcomm once more, its empty, blank screen conveying a different message to her now.

She turned toward the lavatory and entered, the automatic lighting system blinking to life as she walked in. Jane stumbled toward the basin and gripped the edges of it as she carefully studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked like she had been chewed up and spit out and she guessed that she had. The initial skin grafting on the burns that spread all over her face, arms, legs and torso had been hasty and meant to stabilize her, not to win any beauty pageants. Mostly she had taken to wearing long sleeves and long pants so it was only the skin on her face and neck that people could see – and that was plenty bad enough.

And that was only what was on the outside. She shut her eyes briefly.

There was definitely something wrong with her implant, because it hurt to even think about using her biotics. But for all the doctors, treatments and tests that she had consented to for Gabby, outside of the initial treatment meant to stabilize her, Shepard had refused any attention for herself. She never had been one for doctors, but it hadn’t all been selfish foolishness and irresponsible recklessness this time. For one thing, the doctors in London had been out of their depth trying to figure out how to treat her. Their scans and traditional medical treatments, even for biotics, did not work and she grew tired of their questioning and mystified looks. She shut her eyes again and hung her head down from her shoulders.

Shepard contemplated her injuries. What was working and what wasn’t. What had ‘failed’ to come back online after the Reaper’s destruction. That was a very good and very scary way to think about it. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, looking at herself in the mirror very intently now. Seeing her reflection as she would her very own consciousness. While she had been hidden away with Urdnot Wrex, so focused on seeing Gabby through her first few months of life, it had been easy not to ask the hard questions of herself. It had been easy to live in ignorance of her own predicament, ignoring her own problems. Wallowing in blissful denial.

But now.

Hackett, and his astute estimation of her, would only be the beginning, she knew. Now she would be seeing Miranda. And Miranda would know. Above all others and more than anyone else in the universe. She would know.

Shepard opened her eyes and blinked and then held a finger out to the mirror and traced the red scar along her left cheek.

Inside, deep down, she knew already, without a doubt. In some ways, she had always known. There wasn’t any other explanation for it. Although she had been at the epicenter of the blast, the blast had been non-destructive to organics, to human flesh. Her burns and cuts had come from debris and battle, not from the blast. And her internal injuries and continued non-functionality was…

It could only mean one thing.

She had been rebuilt by Cerebus with Reaper Tech.

Miranda had rebuilt her with Reaper Tech.

She dropped her head down again, wrapping her fingers along the edge of the basin and squeezing until it hurt. Lifting her head again, staring at the reflection, struggling to see into her own consciousness, she questioned herself. Would she kill Miranda on sight? Would she slap her or scream? Would she flare to life what remaining biotics she had, the pain be damned, and thrust her friend into the nothingness from which all these desires lived? She had certainly thought about it. About all of those things. But no, that was not why she was taking this trip. She let her fingers relax. Let her mind wander to the sleeping infant in the next room. If Miranda could save Gabby… Would that be enough? Save my child and all is forgiven?

She didn’t know.

A tiny trill and pitiful wail let her know that Gabby was waking from her nap. Shepard turned the water on and splashed her face. There was nothing to do now but to get through this trip and to Miranda. Whatever happened then, only time would tell. Jane left the bathroom and headed toward the bassinet which was rocking now as Gabby swung her arms and legs in frustration from being ignored.

“I’m afraid you might be a little spoiled,” Jane chided her as she scooped the baby up and snuggled her.

Gabby began chewing on her small fists as her ever curious eyes continued to take in her new surroundings. Jane bent down and kissed her forehead.

Gabby began to nuzzle at her mother’s neck and explore lower, rooting. She was hungry.

“Alright, alright. You’re not going to get anything that way,” Shepard soothed, as she began to place Gabby into her feeding chair. It had been especially made for her daughter, tilting back just enough to relieve her spinal column and sporting a five-point harness to keep her erect enough to be fed and swallow.

Jane quickly prepared the pasty mix that the doctors had concocted for her hybrid baby. Although an intravenous drip would be needed to supplement this spoon feeding, it was an important part of the baby’s development to be fed more solid foods and to teach her to accept a spoon. This was a recent development and one that Gabby had taken to quickly. The mere act of placing her into her feeding chair had her chirping and trilling in excitement.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, Shepard winced and held a forearm to her breast and squeezed gently. Although, at the recommendations of the doctors, she had never breastfed her baby, that hadn’t meant that her body had not been performing its biological duty. Gabby’s wails and subsequent nuzzling had prompted her milk to come in. As the wave of sensation passed, Shepard took in a deep breath and stirred up the greyish paste in the tiny bowl while Gabby banged her hands against her little knees and trilled excitedly.

Shepard smiled lovingly at her daughter and began to feed her. “Here comes the Normandy,” she said, twisting the spoon in the air and buzzing out the sound of an incoming airship.

Chapter Text

Nine Weeks Later

They were only halfway through the trip when Gabrielle got sick. Jane was woken in the middle of the night, not to the strong, demanding wails that were typical of her and Garrus’ growing child but to the pitiful coos and warbles that were reminiscent of Gabby’s first days in the hospital.

Rolling quickly to her side, Jane reached over to the bassinet situated next to the bed, gently placing the backs of her fingers to her baby’s forehead. Gabrielle was cool to the touch and that combined with her normally inflexible skin was enough to unnerve Shepard completely. She felt like a corpse. Shepard got to her feet swiftly. She knew that cool temperatures were like fevers for Turians, but Gabby had never been sick before. Not like this anyway. Not in the mundane ear infection and nose cold sort of way that most children suffer from.

Gabby wailed again plaintively and Shepard whispered reassuring coos to her. But reassurance was all that she had to give. Jane was out of her element here. Give her a subcutaneous port to cleanse or orthopedic braces to adjust tension on and she was a pro. But the common cold? This was unchartered territory.

Shepard pinged Dr. Z’s personal intercom, ignoring his drowsy protests and curtly requesting that he meet her at his infirmary. She then got dressed, wrapped Gabby in a warm blanket and made her way to the lower levels.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

“Throat irritated. Fluid on ears. Temperature…erratic,” Dr. Z. declared after running a few diagnostic tests on Gabby. “A cold, nothing more.”

Jane paced, hugging Gabby to her protectively while bouncing and patting the mewling infant. “Okay, good. That’s good,” she responded. “Just a cold.”

“Not good,” Dr. Z. responded crisply, while his long fingers punched furiously away at his console. “Accurate assessment to wake me. Not ‘just’ anything with this patient. Not human. Not Turian. Penicillin for humans. Demavin for Turians. What for this patient? Can’t be sure.”

Jane pulled Gabby even closer to her chest.

“Never sick this way before.”

It hadn’t been a question. Shepard had already been through all of this with the doctor when they arrived. But she answered anyway. “No, never.”

“No precedent set. No way to know reactions. Mild? Severe? Can’t be certain.” Dr. Z. looked up at Shepard now. “Confined. You. Krogan. Baby. No germs. No sickness. Ship has close quarters. Recycled air. Airborne sickness unfortunate eventuality.” He started typing again. “Had to happen sometime. Can’t live in sterile environment forever.”

“So what do I do?”

“Cold could run course. No need for alarm. But could not. Human cold. Turian antibodies. Could prove fatal.”

Jane shuddered at the word but the doctor did not seem to be aware of the impact it had on her.

“Try non-medicinal methods first,” he continued. “Run more tests. No previous case studies. Possible reactions numerous. Conventional prescriptive treatment could prove…” Dr. Z. inhaled deeply and added, “Problematic.”

Jane pleaded, “Just tell me what to try. Non-medicinal? Like what?”

“Fluids. Must stay hydrated. Warm. Keep temperature elevated in cabin. Warm baths. Not too hot. Rest. Keep patient comfortable. Plenty of sleep,” Dr. Z. finished and then looked up to Shepard and added, “For infant. Not much sleep for parents. And…”

Jane pressed Gabby up against her chest, letting the child nuzzle against her neck. “And?” She questioned.

“Science intriguing. Nature surprising. Nature brought Turian-Human child to universe. Capabilities too often ignored in favor of science. Not the path most species followed to bolster their evolutionary cycle. Science utilized for Krogan evolution. Proved to be mistake.” Dr. Z. looked back down at his console. “Know baby better than anyone. Trust maternal instincts. May be only hope.”

Two weeks later

Jane lay underneath the covers of her bed, her head resting on a pillow. Next to her, Gabby squirmed fitfully in her fever-broken sleep. The cabin temperature was raised and mother and infant had taken to sleeping together to share warmth. In spite of the suffocating heat of the room, Jane shivered. In the last few days, she had begun to feel ill as well and her feverish hot skin made Gabby feel even more icy cold than ever.

Nothing seemed to be working. Gabby’s illness seemed to have no end in sight. Dr. Z. visited regularly but he had no new advice other than to wait it out. Gabby had stopped spoon feeding altogether and anything Shepard tried to feed through her tube either went straight through her or came back up. She had lost weight, already small for her age she was now near skeletal. Her human skin, normally favoring the beige color of her mother was now ashen and grey.

Jane heard her cabin door open, saw the light flood in for a moment before the door cycled shut and doused the room back in darkness.

“Shepard?”

Recognizing Hackett’s voice, she said, “In here.” Her voice cracked and sounded more pitiful than she intended.

“Doc says you’re under the weather now, too.”

“I’m fine,” she lied, while she stroked Gabby’s cool cheek. The bed dipped as Hackett sat next to her, opposite of where Gabby slept with Jane’s back to him. She felt his hand on her shoulder and her breath hiccupped.

“Jane.”

Hackett rarely used her given name and she shut her eyes at the sound of it. Tears formed and slid down her face unbidden and as she began to sob uncontrollably she turned to her old friend and allowed him to pull her into his strong arms.

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “It’s going to be alright. You’re going to make it through this. Both of you.”

Jane shook her head against the Admiral's chest and sniffled. She was so sure now that her baby was dying. She had lost Garrus and now she was going to lose this piece of him, too. She regretted taking this trip. There would be no reason to see Miranda now if Gabrielle didn’t make it. The last few nights as she began to feel ill, she prayed that if Gabby died that she would die, too. There would be nothing left to live for anyway.

Hackett held her in silence while she cried. She held nothing back. There was no point. He had known her for so long, seen her through so much. “I’m losing her,” she finally mumbled in that incomprehensible language of sobbing beings. “And there’s nothing…I…I don’t know what to do.”

“Hush, don’t say that,” he whispered, rubbing his hand along her back and planting a kiss on the top of her head before resting his chin there. “She’s going to fight through this. You both are. It’s just going to take time.”

For a few more moments he allowed her to fall into pieces. It was soothing and cathartic. Her sobbing began to subside and she pulled away from him weakly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Hackett watched her. “You should take a shower, freshen up. I’ll watch the baby. You need to pull yourself together, Shepard. She needs you to keep it together.”

“I know,” Jane replied, looking back down on her sleeping child. "Okay,” she whispered, as she scooted down to the edge of the bed and headed to the bathroom.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

She let the warm water of the shower wash away the tears and the overall despair that had overtaken her. Hackett was right. She needed to remain strong. It would do no good for Gabby to sense her hopelessness and although it felt rejuvenating and wonderful, she kept the shower brief, drying off and dressing quickly so that she could return to her baby.

“Better?” Hackett asked when she entered the room.

“Much,” she said heartily. “Did she wake?” She asked, rising on the tips of her toes to peek at Gabby sleeping in the large bed.

“She fussed a little and sucked at her hands. I think she may be hungry.”

“Okay,” Shepard said, losing some of her renewed vigor. She feared another feeding would end in much the same way as it had these past few weeks: with Shepard having to clean up soiled clothing and bed sheets while Gabby wailed pitifully in frustration.

Hackett had risen from the bed and walked towards her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and waited until her eyes rose up to meet his gaze. “Stay strong, soldier,” he ordered.

Shepard swallowed, not feeling it wholeheartedly but muscling through like the good soldier she was, she straightened up her posture and replied, “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

Once the Admiral left, Shepard walked over to the bed and gently scooped Gabby up into her arms. As Hackett had indicated, the baby seemed hungry, sucking at her fists and mewling feebly. Jane walked over to her supplies and began to ready the tubes and equipment for the baby’s feeding. Gabby’s vocal chords began to thrum weakly as she nuzzled and grizzled against her mother.

Jane looked down at her baby. Gabby’s rooting was instinctive, natural. Shepard thought back to what Dr. Z had told her when the baby first fell ill: to trust her maternal instincts. To rely on nature more than medicine. The doctors on Earth had counseled her that their laboratory-designed artificial milk would be safer and more sustaining for her underweight baby than her own. But once again, she thought back to Dr. Z’s simple advice. Science intriguing. Nature surprising. He had said.

Gabby trilled loudly, her normal wail raw with pain. Having made up her mind, Jane shrugged her shirt off and snaked her left arm through one strap of her bra, freeing her left breast. Gabrielle’s lips were not as malleable as a human’s would be and she knew that latching on was going to be an issue. Regardless, she positioned her baby girl against her breast and Gabrielle sniffed and nuzzled with a little more vigor.

Oddly, Jane thought back to when she and Garrus had worked on figuring out kissing. It had been comical at times, frustrating at others but overall an endearing endeavor. All the right parts had been there it was just a matter of figuring out how they could fit together. In fact, that could be said for many things that she and Garrus had figured out over the years. This would be no different. She and Gabby would figure it out together. No Shepard without Vakarian.

Their initial attempts were painful and Shepard winced from the discomfort but Gabby seemed determined and Jane matched her daughter’s resolve with a renewed sense of purpose of her own. She tried again, tilting Gabby’s head and aiding her small mouth to find its way. When Gabby finally latched on and Shepard felt her body responding to the stimulus of her gentle suckling, Jane sank back onto the lounger, cradling her baby while feeding her for the very first time.

The baby’s hand hugged at her mother as she fed greedily. The new sounds of sucking, gulping and swallowing were like music to Shepard’s ears. She felt like it must be her imagination, but Gabby seemed immediately revived. Gabby’s little eyes looked up to her mother lovingly as if in silent thanks. Shepard ran her finger along the squareness of Gabby’s jaw. She did not have mandibles like her father but her jaw looked more alien than a normal human’s. Moving her finger to tenderly trace the rough patches of skin along the baby’s neck, Jane’s thoughts went back to Garrus once again.

More than anything, she wanted Garrus to meet their daughter. She imagined his reaction upon seeing Gabby for the very first time, his mandibles flaring in surprise, the plates on his forehead shifting in disbelief and then everything collapsing together tightly as he reigned his emotions in. From there what might happen was a bit of a mystery to Shepard. They had never discussed children. It wasn’t something that she had considered a possibility and on top of that, their lives had not been very conducive to speculation on the future and more traditional relationship options. How this unexpected development would be thought of along Turian lines and with Garrus' family would be anything but positive, she knew. But Garrus had never let that stop him from doing whatever he wanted with his life before. So many unknowns, she thought as she looked down at Gabby. Her little girl's eyes were glossed over and falling lazily closed, her body limp with satisfied drunkenness. Jane's heart swelled with the love that she felt for her and Garrus' child. There was just no universe that she could imagine where Garrus wouldn't feel the same way that she did about their daughter. In the end, she just hoped that he would be happy.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Over a week later and both Jane and Gabby were on the mend. Along with regular breastfeeding, Gabby was back to eating solid food again and her temperature had been normal for several days. Whether it had been time running its course or the miracle of Jane’s breastmilk, no one seemed really interested in anything but the results.

Jane rested her head back onto the lounger, Gabby was at her breast feeding eagerly. The intimate connection that this new development had provided them was definitely a silver lining on the entire harrowing experience that had been Gabby’s illness. There was a special bonding that flowed through them during their feeding times now. It was like an extension of the oneness she had felt with her baby during pregnancy.

The door chime and she listened - waited. She was expecting Dr. Z. It wasn’t worth the bother to try and cover herself up for him. The curious Salarian would insistently and curiously pull the blanket aside so that he could giver her pointers or make observations on Shepard and Gabby’s technique. So, it was with complete shock and surprise that she realized that Dr. Z was not alone and that he had along with him a visitor that just happened to be Admiral Hackett.

“Oh,” she whispered, sitting up quickly while trying to prevent Gabby from unlatching. She scrambled to find a nearby blanket or shirt or pillow – anything to cover herself up.

Admiral Hackett stopped dead in his tracks staring at Shepard as if she had grown another head and it was a Reaper. Dr. Z seemed oblivious to the two-human’s discomfiture as he chatted away, poking at Gabby and asking Jane questions. Jane, for her part, had never seen the Admiral look more rattled or off-balance as he slowly came back to his senses, nervously turning his back and muttering something about coming back another time.

“Don’t be silly,” she admonished him as she finally grabbed a nearby blanket and worked at covering herself up. “What brought you by?”

“I, uh,” he stumbled, his back still to her. “I was just, uh…”

Shepard shook her head, watching the formidable soldier in front of her fumble from foot to foot. A part of her recalled Joker’s comment about a gun that shot Thesher Maws to aim at the Reapers. If Hackett’s reaction to seeing her breast was any indication, maybe a gun that shot boobs could be the undoing of the Alliance, she mused with a sly smile. She finished covering herself and made one last peek at Gabby before she gave him the all clear.

When Hackett turned around she could see that he was working hard at acting as if nothing had just happened and she recognized a fierce determination in his eyes as they were trained solely on anything and anywhere that was from her chin and up. It was as if he had been told that if he looked at her chest his entire ship would implode. “Commander Shepard, I…I’m sorry to barge in. I was just-”

“For heaven’s sake, Steven,” she said, using his name to hopefully shock him back into reality. “You did know that I was a woman, right?”

Hackett’s face first registered shock but then relaxed into a smile. “I did,” he admitted, releasing a long breath. “I just…never actually required visual confirmation.”

“Well, sorry about that,” she replied, thankful that the Admiral seemed to be coming back to himself. “So, what brought you down here? Other than the peep show?”

“We’ve had contact with the Normandy,” he finally blurted out.

Jane snapped to attention, hugging Gabby to her breast, all frivolity evaporating in an instant. “And?”

“And,” Hackett repeated, moving into a parade rest stance. “All are accounted for – alive and well. They're traveling toward the nearest functioning relay, which we've provided, and should be in system within six to eight months.”

“In system?”

“They're headed for Earth,” he confirmed. “I’m sorry, Jane. The ship needs to report to Alliance Headquarters.”

“No, that’s…,” she lifted the blanket to take a peek at Gabby. The baby was becoming restless, seeming to be reacting to her mother’s mood. Shepard whispered a few soothing words to the baby and stroked her cheek. “I understand,” she said, as she looked back up at the Admiral.

“More and more of the relays are set to come on line in the next few months. By the time the Normandy sets down, Vakarian might be able to jump directly to you at Sanctuary.”

“After a series of thorough debriefs,” Jane clarified. She sank back down into the lounger, her mood deflating rapidly. “And whatever the Turians might require of him.”

“Yes, well…I’ll see what I can do about that from my end.”

“I appreciate it.”

“As for news on you,” Hackett started but then dropped off.

Jane bit her lip. She knew what he was asking. Once on Earth, Garrus would want details on Shepard’s condition and recovery. Should Chakwas be there or if Hackett were back by then, what would she want them to say?

“You’re medical records and condition are personal,” Hackett supplied. “But if you’d like for Vakarian to be informed-”

“No,” she interrupted him.

She just couldn’t imagine anyone else delivering this news to Garrus. Plus, she had only just begun to think about what responsibilities he might have to the Turian hierarchy upon his return. Did she want this to interfere with the decisions he would be making about his future? On the other hand, he would absolutely murder her if she didn’t give him some indication that they needed to see each other, though.

“I think,” she said. “I think I would rather deliver this news to him myself. But, I’d like him to understand the necessity of us seeing each other as soon as possible.”

She could see Hackett turning over her words inside of his head. She knew that he would understand the situation and interpret her request accordingly. “I’ll ensure that your message gets delivered with the appropriate details necessary to get Vakarian’s ass to Sanctuary as soon as possible.”

Jane couldn’t help the smile that unfolded across her mouth. “Thank you, Admiral. I couldn’t’ve said that better myself.”

Chapter Text

Sanctuary

“Shepard! You made it!”

Jane Shepard stepped down the ramp of the airship and onto the grounds of Sanctuary. The last time she was here she had been hot on the trail of Kei Leng and the Illusive Man. The landing pad had been deserted, quite different than the bustle of activity that now greeted her. A few faded scorch marks were all that were left of its history and for this, Shepard was immensely grateful. She was still the same person, the same soldier she had always been, but becoming a mother had shifted her priorities. There was nothing more important to her than the little miracle that she held in her arms and gunfire and explosions were the last things that she wanted to deal with at the moment.

She hitched that small miracle up a little bit, scooting the baby up and onto her shoulder. “Miranda,” she whispered as the familiar figure drew closer to her and gave a slight and a bit awkward kind of hug. They had never been very demonstrative with their feelings, always sharing respect more than the other rather touchy feeling type emotions. Liara could hug her, Tali, too, but this closeness was different for her and Miranda.

“Dammit, Shepard,” Miranda said, drawing back and looking at her. “You carry a baby just as well as a grenade launcher. I didn’t think that could be possible.”

“I’m guessing it is since I’ve given up the old Widow and Arc Projector for a diaper bag and junior here.”

“May I?” Miranda asked, indicating the bulk underneath the floral blanket.

“Of course,” Shepard replied, turning her body so that the sleeping infant faced Miranda.

Miranda took her hand and drew the soft fabric back. “Hello, Ms. Vakarian,” she whispered, in a sing-songy tone of voice that Shepard was sure she had never heard from the genetically engineered beauty before. “I’m Auntie Miranda and I’ve been looking very forward to finally meeting you.” Miranda then drew back, looking at Shepard. “She’s beautiful, Commander.” Miranda then took her hand and trailed it across the sleeping infant’s forehead. “I can see her subdermal plates. They’re growing in quite nicely.”

Shepard smiled. It bothered her when people would awkwardly ignore the differences in her daughter’s appearance. Even worse if they would talk about them as something that might someday be fixed so that she could be “normal”. Gabby’s skin and bone formations were normal, normal for her. She appreciated the way that Miranda had pointed out Gabby’s subdermal plates and commented on them as if they were the most ordinary thing in the universe, even going so far as to compliment them.

“Thanks, Miranda.”

“I feel like I know her already,” Miranda confessed, looking back at the baby. And then falling back into that other tone of voice, she continued, “I can’t tell you how many nights I fell asleep reading your files, Miss Vakarian. There are so many people here that just can’t wait to meet you.”

Several Days later…

Shepard folded her arms in front of her hugging them against her stomach. She and Gabby had settled into their quarters on Sanctuary. Admiral Hackett had finished his inspection and debrief with Miranda and had left on the SSV Blenheim. Miranda had spent these first few days running tests and working tirelessly on a plan of action for Gabby’s treatment. Now she and Miranda stood on the veranda of her and Gabby’s apartment. Gabby was sleeping in her room with Oriana watching over her as Shepard was trying to digest all the information that Miranda had just thrown at her. The surgery or surgeries, she had expected. Physical therapy. Gene therapy. Hell, even speech therapy, but...

“It’s not that uncommon, Shepard," Miranda spoke into her silence. "You had to have known this would be part of it.”

Jane looked out at the vista stretching out from her veranda. Miranda had gotten her in one of the best apartments available. Her view was away from the bustle and rebuilding of Sanctuary and overlooked the quiet, unassuming rolling mountains in the distance. Part of Miranda’s plan included fitting Gabby with a biotic implant. When Miranda had implanted her, made Jane a biotic, Jane hadn’t been given a choice. Of course, if she had been able to it would’ve been a choice of being a biotic or not being at all. Even so, there were times still that Jane begrudged Miranda for that decision. And now it seemed that Jane would have to make the same decision for her daughter.

Miranda was right, inside some part of her had known that this would be part of the solution. Hell, she hadn’t even had the “Reaper Tech” discussion with Miranda yet. But still, it was hard. This would fundamentally change Gabby forever and her daughter would not be given a choice. One day in the future she could resent her mother this decision. But what were her options?

“I know,” Jane whispered. “And without it…”

Miranda sighed. “We’ve already been over this, Commander-”

“Then go over it again,” Jane snapped. “Humor me.”

“There’re too many unknowns. I won’t know until we have her in surgery. But…she may never walk even with a biotic implant but she most certainly will never walk without one.”

“Is this…similar to what you did to me?”

Miranda hesitated. Shepard heard a lot in that empty space. “Yours was a very different situation.”

Jane scoffed, unfolded her arms and turned to look at Miranda. “I’m putting my daughter’s life in your hands,” she said, not unkindly. “We’ve been through a lot. There’s a lot that we…left unsaid for the sake of our missions. But that’s all over now and it’s just me and you and my daughter in the other room.” Shepard stopped and pointed in the direction of Gabby’s nursery. Then she took a step towards Miranda and pointed at her own chest. “I’m not alright, not after the crucible fired. I know what that means. What you did-”

“Shepard,” Miranda whispered, shaking her head.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Miranda. I’m not here to place blame on anyone.”

“Regardless,” Miranda said. “I’m sorry.”

Jane turned away, wrapped her arms around herself again. She hated herself for thinking it. “Is it…is it still an option?” She hated herself even more for actually saying it.

There was a long silence before Miranda answered. “I don’t know the answer to that, Shepard. There’s no shortage of-,” she stopped. “Of it here. But we’ve quarantined those laboratories. Admiral Hackett left a contingent here to ensure no one gets any ideas.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything. If you wanted to-”

“I don’t know,” Miranda interrupted. “I don’t know if I want to anymore. I don’t know if I ever should have.”

Jane turned around to look at her. “It’s a little late for that question now, isn’t it?” The two women stood in silence for a long time. It was Shepard that spoke first. “With it. If you were to use it on Gabby. Would she…”

“We brought you back from the dead, Shepard. We could certainly make it so your daughter could walk.”

Shepard shut her eyes. If making her daughter a biotic posed a moral dilemma for her, certainly using Reaper Tech shouldn’t even cross her mind as an option. But wanting a guarantee for her daughter’s future and not so many unknowns, it was so…tempting. She shook her head, looked over to Miranda and said, “We go forward with the surgery. The implant. See where we need to go from there.”

“Understood, Commander.” Miranda hesitated. “Jane?”

“What?”

“You should really let me run some tests on you. We could...”

The words ‘not gonna happen’ nearly fell out of her mouth of their own accord, but Jane thought back to what Hackett had told her on the trip here and she thought of what Garrus would say when he finally arrived and found her in the shape that she was currently in – or worse if left untreated. She sighed. “Let’s get this surgery out of the way and then…maybe we’ll see.”

Chapter Text

He was standing close, close enough for her to touch him but they remained distant. His cold, blue calculating eyes studying her like an error in his calibrations. She held the baby tightly against her chest while the child mewled plaintively. In the distance she could hear thunder.

“Cerberus, Shepard?” He asked, vocal chords vibrating accusingly. “Really?”

Lightning flashed at his words. Thoughts and sounds jumbled inside of her head, crowded the inside of her mouth but nothing would come out. The baby was crying earnestly now and Shepard could do nothing but hold her tighter.

“You remember those sick experiments, Shepard?” Garrus spit the words at her. The plates on his forehead shifted down, flanged tightly together, disapproving.

Gabby wailed in her arms, squirming as if to escape. Her arms felt weak, tired.

The wind was blowing, Garrus’ mouth continued to move but the words were caught in the storm. Her hair whirled and swirled against her face. She caught the last half of his sentence. “…walking into hell, Shepard.”

“Shepard.”

There was a cool hand moving the hair away from her face. The wind had stopped. There was no baby in her arms. No thunder. She jolted awake. Eyes scanning her surroundings, fingers searching instinctively for the weapon that was not there. There was light. So much light.

“Shepard, are you alright?”

“Miranda,” Shepard breathed, trying to relax. Reorient herself. She was at the hospital. Gabby was in surgery. “Gabby?” She asked, bolting up, suddenly awake. Suddenly far from the dream she didn’t care to remember.

“She’s out of surgery,” Miranda supplied, her hand still lingering against Shepard’s forehead. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” Shepard sat up, shook off Miranda’s touch. “I must’ve dozed off.” She was still disoriented, disconcerted by the dream. Garrus was usually such a calming presence. In this dream he was so...

“It’s no wonder,” Miranda replied. “You’ve been out here for over thirteen hours.”

The planet seemed to tilt on its axis in a universe that held Garrus as a nightmare. She could still see the accusations in his eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair, it was damp with sweat. “How is she?” She asked, her mouth and her head still feeling as if it were filled with cotton. “How’d it go?"

Miranda stood. “There were…complications. Some anomalies from our preliminary tests now make more sense, but it’s not…”

Shepard looked up at her, slowly coming out of the fog.

“We should go to my office. Get you a coffee,” Miranda suggested. “You’ll need a clear head for this.”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Jane stood in Miranda’s office and studied the charts, graphs and scans that were displayed on screens along her wall. They had started with the good news. The implant had taken and was functioning properly. The cybernetics and skin grafts were successful, no rejection so far. The vision and auditory augmentations had gone better than hoped. The surgery on her shins and feet went off without a hitch. Miranda had flooded her with all that had went right. All that was left was whatever had gone wrong. It was a well-worn tactic that Shepard herself wasn't above utilizing. Lull them into a false sense of security before blasting them with the heavy weapons.

Shepard watched as Miranda began to point her long, perfect finger toward something on the black and white skeletal scan. “Wait, just,” Shepard stopped her, holding up her hand. “Just give me a second.” Her eyes continued to look over the readouts. Her brain constantly repeating everything Miranda had just said. Jane suffered from a long, agonizing moment of trepidation. Just for a little while she wanted to enjoy the ignorant bliss of not knowing what came next. She could read Miranda all too well. Whatever news she had left to deliver, it was far from good.

For the millionth time, Jane wished Garrus was there with her quietly thrumming with his own brand of agitation. She could almost feel him edging closer to her, slinging a long arm around her. His touch both bolstering and comforting at the same time. Unwavering. He would have her six. Regardless of her most recent nightmare, and she knew that’s what it was…a nightmare. Brought on by the stress of having to handle all of this on her own. Decision after painful decision. From the beginning. From the very first whisper of the doctors on Earth. He should’ve been here with her for it all. He would hate knowing and hearing about every second he had missed.

Damn, she thought. No matter what comes next, it would be so much easier if you were here with me.

Standing side by side.

No Shepard without Vakarian.

And then he was there. In spirit. Nodding his head at her. Mandibles pulled tightly against his face. Love and support exuding from his gaze. A quiet trill granting her the strength to continue. Her posture straightened. “Okay,” she finally whispered. “Tell me everything.”

Miranda cleared her throat and lifted her finger back up to the scan. “You see her spinal column here?” She said, tracing the outline of the fuzzy white line. “It’s hollowed out. The walls paper thin.”

Shepard furrowed her eyebrows and leaned in for a closer look.

“It’s…Turian design,” Miranda continued. “Their spinal columns are near hollow with large air pockets, similar to the avian species they’re most often compared to.”

Jane pulled her head back and frowned at Miranda. There were plenty aspects of Gabby’s…structure that were of Turian design. “And that’s a problem because…?”

Miranda waved Shepard over toward her desk where more datapads and papers where strewn about. “It’s a problem because it’s a Turian design built, for lack of better terminology, with human engineering.”

Jane watched as Miranda placed two different diagrams in front of her.

“Gabby’s bone structure, most importantly her spinal column, is more similar to this design.” Miranda’s finger pointed to a diagram with a cutaway of a large bone where the inside looked like swiss cheese. “Filled with air pockets and very little marrow, or…actual bone. It’s not an issue for Turians because their bones are made of significantly stronger material than ours are and their skeletal structure is protected by their carapace and hard plating.” Miranda drew in a breath. “Not only does Gabby not have a carapace or hard plating, but her bones, although true to this design are made of the same material that our bones are. And although our bones are normally fairly strong, since hers are hollowed out and empty that makes them much more delicate and brittle.”

Shepard nodded her head. The problem seemed straightforward so far. She imagined what limitations this might mean for Gabby, thought about how Hackett had told her that no one's life was ever easy. Then, she thought of Joker and the life he was able to lead even with his bone abnormalities. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as she had thought. She turned to look at Miranda. The woman who had never met a problem that she couldn't solve. “So, what’s the answer?” She asked.

“There’s no easy one, I'm afraid.”

Shepard reared back a little in disbelief. “Not bone grafting? Heavy weave? Hell, my bones are nearly as strong as titanium with all the upgrades I’ve had over the years.”

“Upgrades being the operative word there, Shepard. They took what you already had and made it stronger. This would be like…like weaving a protective coating over an eggshell. There are limitations. You can only make something inherently delicate so strong.”

Jane stood there for a moment, stunned. She had prepared herself for bad news. Long journeys of dangerous operations and daring technological advances. Maybe limitations in what her daughter could do with her life, like Joker. But this? It seemed as if Miranda had no solution to this problem whatsoever. She turned around, facing her back to Miranda. She clasped her hands together, digging her right thumb into the palm of her left hand, a nervous habit. She thought of what she might be capable of doing to save her daughter. Wondered where the line should be drawn. "What about...," Shepard let the sentence drop off without completing it. Without saying the words. For some reason the sight of Garrus in her nightmare came back to her. Eyes narrowed accusingly. The words "sick experiments, Shepard" taunting her once again. She shook her head. It was not just 'for some reason' that it came back to her now, she thought. She knew the reason. Knew what it meant.

Miranda had been silent but she finally said, "There's still so much we don't know about what the catalyst did. Some things are working, some are not. Some come back online but who knows if all of it ever will. And then what that might mean."

Shepard saw The Illusive Man's face. Heard his words. Saw Anderson slumping down to the floor. Felt the weight of her gun pulling her hand down as she shook her head.

Miranda continued, "I just-"

"Never mind," Shepard said abruptly, cutting her off. She turned back to face Miranda. "Forget I even suggested it. It's not a possibility, no matter what. It's not..." She couldn't hide the pain behind her words. Some things weren't worth the compromise in principles and morals. No matter what the costs. She just hoped that she was doing the right thing. That Garrus would agree with her. That Gabby would live long enough to maybe one day second guess her decision, the way that children always inherently do.

"I understand, Commander. I think you know that...no one could understand this decision better than me."

“So, where does that leave us?" Shepard asked. "With absolutely no hope?”

Miranda walked around her desk and sat down. She sat forward, placing her elbows on the desk and clasping her hands together. “I have a theory. It’s a bit of a long shot.”

“Go ahead,” Jane said. “You’ve scared me sufficiently enough for me to consider anything, obviously.”

“That was not my intent, I assure you. And, when I say it’s a long shot, I am not referring to the procedure alone but also to…the required resources.”

“Let me worry about that. Just tell me already,” Shepard demanded and then added, “please.”

Miranda drew in a deep breath and then leaned back into her chair. “Gabby does possess both human and Turian genetic material. If we could perform a bone marrow transplant, there is a possibility that a mutation would be…encouraged by the introduction of Turian marrow into the Turian-designed spinal column. The bone structure and therefore the strength of that bone would increase, exponentially would be the hope. But, any improvement would be a benefit, really. As of now, there would be no worse case scenario we could find ourselves in.”

Jane fumbled for the edge of the guest chair that she had been standing alongside of and let herself slink down onto it. She tried to digest and understand everything that Miranda had just told her. Before attempting to draw any conclusions, it had always been a useful habit of hers to understand what doing nothing would get her. It sometimes made the decision for action that much easier. “So, if we don’t…”

Miranda stood up and began to pace around the room slowly. “Gabby was already in a brace. Thank god the doctors on Earth at least grasped enough of the situation to do that. But-” Miranda stopped pacing and looked pointedly at Jane. “I’m not trying to scare you here, Shepard. Not trying to place any blame, either.”

“Just…tell me.”

“Even with the brace we’re lucky that Gabby’s spinal column hasn’t been severed already. Just carrying her, feeding her, even her instinctively pushing and twisting herself in a normal effort at mobility. The smallest thing. We just don’t know. The repercussions.” Miranda stopped. “We’re not just talking immobility here, Shepard. We’re talking…possibly fatal results.”

Jane could clearly recall every time someone had told her that Gabby was going to die for one reason or another. It had happened most recently on the trip here to Sanctuary when Dr. Z had also thrown the word fatal up in the air to her. But that didn’t numb Jane to the threat whatsoever. Maybe repetition did dull the senses on other things for her. Even her own mortality, what with all the brushes with death and actual death, fatalism had become a standing joke with herself, her crew. Beating the odds. Doing the impossible. It should’ve bolstered Jane’s optimism in all things, including the fate of her daughter. But with Gabby she took nothing lightly. There was no roll of the dice, see where things took her, attitude. It was an entirely different game, played by an entirely different set of rules.

Jane ran her finger across her lip absently, gazing off into the distance somewhere. Her brain working things over, turning all the problems over inside of her head. “So, the resources you were referring to…”

“We need a Turian donor for the transplant,” Miranda stated, walking back towards her chair and taking a seat. “No small feat even in the best of times. We do have a few Turians here on Sanctuary and the council races have established channels to make these sorts of requests. But, and here’s the real crux of it, Commander. I won’t sugarcoat it for you. This operation for a Turian donor, it’s…risky is too nice of a word for it, really. The same strength of bone that we are trying to extract makes the extraction itself all that more difficult. In the few cases that I have found where this was done, the donor, if they lived – which in most cases they did not – came away severely…handicapped.”

Shepard leaned back in her chair, pressed her hands together and placed them against her mouth as if in prayer. She didn’t even want to think it, much less say it. But it was there, sitting right there. Staring at her. So obvious. She whispered it, as if that made it any better. “Garrus.”

Miranda leaned forward. “Of course, the father would be a definite match." There was a long pause of silence. "But, Shepard.”

Jane stood. “I know," she said, her tone tinged with anger. "I know," she said again, more softly this time. "But...you know that he wouldn’t not do it, Miranda.” She walked over to the window and looked out to the sky. There was another long pause of silence.

Miranda came and stood next to Shepard. “I know it’s…an obvious thing to say, but, dammit,” Miranda cursed. “It’s not fair. Is it?”

Shepard shook her head, still staring out to the space beyond them. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “It isn’t.”

Chapter Text

Over a Week Later

The smell of coffee woke Shepard up. Wincing, she groaned and rolled her shoulder a few times as she sat up.

“You really should try to get a decent night’s sleep,” Miranda scolded her while she handed her a large mug.

Shepard took a sip of the hot beverage and then cradled it in her hands. “No gunfire in the distance,” she replied flatly. “No rifle at the ready, smoke in the air, few dozen marines snoring and farting in close quarters. This is a decent night’s sleep for me.”

“I’ve always known your sense of normality was off,” Miranda replied with levity.

In truth, Shepard had gotten some of her best sleep hunkered down on the battlefield. Deep exhaustive sleep where the body shuts down on a dime only to then wake up, battle ready, hands automatically performing a weapons check, brain scrambling to decide if it had been out for mere minutes, hours or days already talking, asking questions, standing up, ready to go. Jane shook her head almost imperceptibly dismissing a part of her life that she hadn't quite decided whether or not she should miss yet and took another sip of her coffee. She let her eyes trail over to the sleeping infant next to her, taking in the slow rise of her chest, the steady rhythm of the monitoring units and the look of peace on her tiny face.

Miranda cleared her throat. “I’ve fielded a few inquiries from the transplant request. A few on planet. A cursory reply from the universal pipeline. Nothing promising yet, but good that we know people are looking and the system is working.”

Jane nodded, deciphering every word as was standard operating procedure for any conversation with Miranda. Even as friendly as they were now, Miranda was still Miranda. She took another sip of her coffee and then asked, “Inquiries?”

Miranda walked over to another chair not too far from Shepard. They were in an open area of the critical unit of the hospital. Their ‘room’ separated by nothing more than glorified shower curtains. Miranda pulled the chair even closer to the Commander and took a seat. “Identification of recipient. Circumstances of injury. Colony association and tier,” Miranda replied, then took a sip of her coffee.

It was a direct, economic response. A response that told Shepard: ‘I told you so’, without actually having to say it. Because Miranda, was of course, above that sort of blatant assertion.

Shepard had forbidden her from using her or Garrus' name in the request. She didn’t want some poor Turian to sacrifice himself for the wrong reasons. Miranda had argued that as militaristic and hierarchical as the Turians were, there was no chance in hell that any Turian would volunteer without knowing who they might be sacrificing themselves for and that Garrus’ ancestral standing alone would draw interest enough from lower colony families looking to advance their reputations. But Shepard saw flaws in that line of thinking, imagining the look on some poor Turian who showed up to sacrifice himself for a Vakarian heir only to find some human woman with an even weirder looking human baby.

“It’s early still,” Shepard finally replied.

“Time is a luxury that we don’t have,” Miranda countered. “Sure, if we must wait we have no choice. But intentionally ignoring avenues that might get us to our goal earlier, that’s just-”

“They are not avenues,” Shepard whispered back in a growl. She stood and walked over to the clear tent that her child slept in. “You think I want some poor son or daughter to sacrifice themselves for a greedy, social-climbing parent? Or worse yet, some wide-eyed soldier who somehow lived through the worst war this galaxy has seen in his lifetime only to die for some sort of goddmamn hero-worship?”

“You never cease to amaze me, Shepard,” Miranda said as she stood, her words were biting – she threw them at Shepard as if they were concussion grenades. “You’ve given yourself time and time again. You gave your goddamn life for Christ’s sake and for what? For whom? For those wide-eyed soldiers and social-climbing parasites, that’s who. Don’t you think they owe you something? Finally? Just once, don’t you think it might be alright for you to come out on the winning end of this train wreck that you like to call your life?”

Shepard bristled at Miranda's choice of words. “Train wreck or not, it is my life,” Shepard bit back. Her voice was louder than she intended but it’s not like that stopped her. “And my decision. And I won’t-”

“Miranda! Commander!”

Shepard turned toward the voice that had interrupted her. It was Oriana. Her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily. It was enough to make both women forget their argument and shift to high alert. Miranda's twin didn't just share her DNA, she shared her sister's normally calm poise and demeanor. Usually.

“Ori,” Miranda replied, rushing toward her sister and reacting as Shepard was to this uncharacteristic display. “What is it?”

Oriana was bent over at the waist, hands on her knees, obviously struggling to catch her breath. “We’ve got a hail,” she said. “An incoming message.”

Shepard felt a cold chill travel down her spine. She felt her knees lock and the familiar tightening in her chest. It was how her body reacted to any incoming change of parameters, any time a new enemy or variable entered from stage left on the field of battle.

Oriana stood up straighter, placed her hand on her abdomen and looked directly at Jane. “It’s the Normandy.”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Oriana debriefed Miranda and Jane while the trio walked briskly back toward the Communications Center. Admiral Hackett had initiated the connection. The Normandy’s QEC was not fully functioning and the transmission was being routed to them via a cobbled connection bounced back and forth between Earth’s comm buoys.

Shepard experienced a distinctive feeling of déjà vu when she finally entered the small communications center and heard a familiar, impatient voice already calling for her.

“Commander?”

There was no visual, only the disembodied voice of her Commanding Officer and friend. “I’m here, Admiral.”

“I have Vakarian on the line.”

Vakarian. Not the Normandy or ‘your crew’. She took the direct announcement for what it was. There probably wasn’t a whole helluva lot of time for subterfuge. And she found she didn’t really care. "Patch him through,” she replied, surprised at the calm, level tone of her voice when it felt like her insides were running around like a room full of husks after a light was switched on.

”Patching through.”

There was a series of clicks and static and then a belly-dropping absence of all sound whatsoever. Shepard looked around. She wasn’t alone in the room. Oriana and Miranda were still with her plus several communication technicians sitting at brightly lit control centers. Before she could ask if they had lost the connection a studdered burst of static filled the room.

“-ander Shepard?”

Her heart flew up to cuddle right up in between her tonsils. She placed her hands on the counter in front of her and leaned toward the vibrating particles that had produced the most pleasant sound she had ever heard. “Garrus?” Following Hackett's trusted lead, she purposely opted to drop all pretense of military titles and protocol.

“Shepard." She could hear the relief in his voice. It was so palpable in the room that she found it suffocating. “That you?”

She laughed for the first time that she could remember in a long time and tears threatened to quickly follow. “Yes! It’s me.”

“How are you?”

Her breath caught as she hesitated. What could she possibly say? She hadn’t had time to prepare for this conversation. Sure, she had thought about it - endlessly, but she had never really decided on the best plan of attack. Would she tell him? Like this? Two disembodied voices transmitting across space to exchange the most important conversation that they might ever have?

“Shepard? This connection is weak,” he said and as if on cue another studder of static ripped across the airwaves. “-need to be brief.”

“Sorry,” she replied, deciding there was no way she could tell him that he was a father over this shaky transmission. Practically, she told herself that it was just too much information to convey in a short amount of time. Selfishly, she wanted him standing in front of her, wanted to see his face, feel his reaction, (hopefully) step into his excited embrace. “I’m okay,” she finally replied.

‘Okay’. She had chosen the word carefully. Garrus might not be human, but he had learned very quickly that ‘okay’ was on equal footing with ‘fine’ and that when wielded by a human woman, always meant that something was not okay and that everything was definitely not fine. Normally, she took it as a matter of pride that she didn’t employ such evasive measures when trying to communicate her feelings, preferring a more direct route to air her grievances, whatever they may be. But any soldier worth their salt knew how to improvise and utilize whatever modified weapons that their current arsenal provided.

Garrus hadn’t answered right away. She could imagine his quick mind translating, disassembling and deciding how to interpret her words very carefully. “Okay,” he replied cautiously. “Hackett all but ordered me to head your way.”

She hesitated again. This all seemed like more than enough covert hints for her sharp-witted Turian to clue in to. So she simply replied, “Agreed.”

“Shepard.” She recognized the question in his voice. The accusation. The plea.

“Garrus.”

It took a long time, but she knew that Garrus was digesting it all. She felt for him. Goddess only knew what insane scenarios were flitting through his mind. It wasn’t like she had given him any reason over the years not to expect the worst from her. “Earth’s relay is repaired,” he finally replied. “The hierarchy has already ordered me to assist in the relocation of the fleet.”

She didn’t know what to say. She felt for the predicament that this put him in. He was wedged right in the middle of a direct order from his superiors and an ambiguous request by his lover. She thought about it. This was her chance to wave him off. If she delayed his arrival, she gave herself more time to find another solution, one that didn't involved sacrificing the love of her life to save their infant daughter. Maybe she would take Miranda’s advice and cash in on her reputation. Talking to Garrus. Hearing his voice. It had shaken that strong stance she had made on her moral code. In fact, it had made entertaining any and all ideas that didn’t involve her losing him again seem pretty damn reasonable.

Garrus, bless his rapid-beating, Turian heart, must’ve been anxious because he responded into her silence, “I’m requesting a little bit more information to go on here.” Another wedge of silence. “Shepard?”

She closed her eyes. If she did this. If she delayed his arrival when it could mean the death of their child, he would never forgive her for it. And she could never forgive herself. She stilled her hands for a moment. Searched for the right words to say. What would ring home for Garrus? She knew that his analytical mind was trying to compute what he was hearing. She had said that she was okay and probably certainly sounded okay to him as well, but he was getting signals that she needed him to shirk his responsibility and come running to her. She had to let him know that it was for more than just her comfort or pure selfishness on her part. A thought occurred to her. Something...some time that would easily translate between them. She didn’t immediately warm to the idea. She knew how much Garrus tried not to think about it. But nothing else seemed as easy a parallel.

She held her breath for a brief moment and then said, “Remember Omega, Garrus?” She hesitated for a moment. Imagined his mandibles flaring in surprise before clamping back down tightly with a complementary curl of his fist. “How I found you when I arrived?”

This time it was Garrus’ turn for a long pause. She knew each of them were remembering in their own minds. Remembering the exhaustion as he pulled his helmet off and sank onto the sofa to speak to her. Remembering the blue blood spilled on a dirty floor. Remembering his hand clutching at his rifle and later, his confession of the fate that he had all but surrendered himself to before she arrived. She listened to the underlying hum of static that swallowed his silence. She wished that he was close enough to touch. “That urgent?” He asked.

Even filtered and scrubbed over the comm buoys, she could hear the tightness in his vocal chords. She didn’t want to scare him, but then she didn’t want to lie, either. She needed to make her message as clear as possible without being able to tell him everything. She closed her eyes and said, “More so.”

Another pause. “Sitrep?”

She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to tell him that he was a father over a damn comm. She opened her eyes, glanced around the room to the half dozen people trying to look as if they were not hanging on her every word. She turned back toward the microphone. “Could you have explained to me over a comm relay…,” she hesitated. Hating herself for using the worst time of his life to replace what could be news of the best time of his life. But there was nothing else for it. “About Omega?" She added. And because she never was one to leave a victim writhing in pain, had always felt it was better and more compassionate to fire a final, merciful kill shot instead, she added, “About your squad?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Garrus replied tightly in a voice she hadn’t heard from him since their conversation immediately following his showdown with Sidonis. The only difference now was that the anger and accusation that had laced every word back then had been replaced by fear and frustration when he finally said, “Understood. I’ll head your way.”

She blew out a heavy breath. He didn’t elaborate on what he might tell the hierarchy or what he might have to do, to give up, to fulfill this promise. It didn’t matter to her and she thought – hoped – that in the end it wouldn’t matter to him. So, she replied simply, “ETA?”

She thought she could hear him talking to someone, his voice sharp and impatient. Finally, he said, “Six months. Maybe less. Maybe more.”

And there it was. He was on his way to her. There was nothing more to be said. “I’ll be waiting,” she supplied.

Garrus didn’t reply right away. She knew him, knew that he was itching to demand more information to go on. Knew that the detective in him was reeling at the thought of taking such action with so little evidence to back him up. But the only thing she heard from him was a calm, confident reply as he said, “Vakarian out.”

She swallowed, a strange, uncomfortable calm unfurling inside of her. She closed her eyes and said, “Shepard out.”

Chapter Text

A Few Days Later

Jane let the hot water flow over her, eyes closed, head tilted back. She was exhausted. Gabby was still in the hospital, although out of the warming tent and down to less than a dozen needles and monitors stuck to her. The surgery had gone well and her recovery was going even better. Miranda had all but ordered Jane to start going home daily and take more than a sponge bath in a hospital sink. Standing under the steady stream of hot water now, Shepard hated to admit that Miranda had been right. As good as her shower felt though, her thoughts were already returning to the hospital and her baby daughter.

This past week, during the long vigils by her daughter’s side, Shepard had made a mission out of cataloguing all the changes on Gabby's tiny body. There were changes that were easily evident, a veritable map of new scars and patches of synthetic skin that traveled over her and told the story of a very short but tenuous life. And there was the modification of her feet that had occurred. Similar to Garrus’ with two large toes, they were now flatter in design like her mother’s to work with her more human leg and knee structure. But then there were also the changes that she couldn’t see. Like the several biotic implants designed to assist her with her hearing, speech, dexterity and mobility - and eventually more, the further along she developed and grew.

Jane poured a dollop of shampoo onto her palm and began to wash her hair. As she scrubbed, she wondered once again what Garrus would think of their baby girl. How he would feel about missing all of these critical decisions and surgeries that he had missed out on. How missing any and every second of his daughter's life would affect him. She wondered once again if she had done the right thing withholding all of this from him during their recent conversation. She had been wondering more and more about Garrus following their conversation of a few days ago. He had always been on her mind, of course. But now - now that he was on his way to her – her mind had begun to dwell on him in earnest.

She tried to imagine his reaction when he heard the news. How he would look, what he would think, imagining his first thoughts would be: ‘how’ and ‘when’. Which had Shepard thinking about: how and when? It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about these topics already. Not the how, so much. The doctors back on Earth had gone to great lengths to try and explain that to her to the point that she really didn’t care to think of it any longer. She recalled Mordin’s comments back on Tuchunka about human genes being very diverse and that had been enough of an explanation for her.

But the when… She had been developing a habit of wiling away the idle hours in the hospital, in between reading up on Turian bone marrow transplants, normal human and Turian developmental progression and other such light reading material, with thoughts of when she and Garrus had actually conceived their little medical miracle.

It wasn’t all that difficult to figure out. In reality, as much as they loved and cared for each other there hadn’t been much actual loving going on during their insistent push against the Reapers. Add to that, if one considered how close to the final push she would’ve had to have conceived – using calculations that took into consideration both human and Turian gestational periods – it could only have been one particular time.

After Thessia. After Kei Leng had handed them their worst loss yet. It had crashed down on top of her like Sovereign on the Citadel. It had followed on the heels of Mordin and Thane. Added to the frustration that was the Council and Cerberus. It had left her disillusioned and lost. To put it simply, she had been shattered. And Garrus had been…Garrus. Back in her quarters that evening, it had started with her soldiering through bravely but had very quickly dissolved into him kissing away tears and absorbing the frustrated pounding of her fists against his carapace until eventually she had melted against him and whispered one small order that he had obediently followed. Just make it go away, she had pleaded. Make it all go away.

And he had.

It had been exactly what she had needed. Cathartic. Rejuvenating. A reminder of why and how she had been able to keep things together for as long as she had. It had rekindled a small spark of hope and provided verification that she could keep it together for at least a little while longer. She recalled now how tired she had been by the end of it all. Every morning a struggle to snap the clasps of her armor together and trudge onto the next emergency. Now she understood that it had been more than exhaustion from the endless battles and suffering. It had been more than the suffocating weight of hopelessness and loss. She had been simultaneously giving up on life while her body had been unknowingly creating it.

Jane rinsed the last of the suds out of her hair and shut off the water. As she stepped out of the shower, she thought of how Gabby had been there with her, when she had collapsed alone in the pile of rubble waiting for death to take her - again. With her as she dealt with the mixed emotions of being found - again. Saved - again. With her through the pain of being put back together - again. And finally, with her as she wished the universe would just let her die already. She wondered if somehow Gabby knew all of that. Wondered how healthy it was for a being to be created in the midst of so much despair. Then she thought that maybe that was what gave her daughter her fighting spirit.

Removing the towel from her head, Jane looked at herself in the mirror. As a rule, she tried not to think about how she looked. Even before she had been chewed up and spit out by the Citadel, she had never been a vain person by any stretch of the imagination. She looked how she looked and she never felt the need to put a label on it. Often she found it amusing or interesting when someone commented on her appearance, good or bad. She didn't much care if anyone considered her attractive. Even in the beginning with Garrus, she was concerned more with attraction than being attractive in that nebulous definition of beauty.

But now thinking of seeing Garrus again and more to the point, of Garrus seeing her and viewing her through a lover’s eyes. She worried. Pressing the tips of her fingers against the lines of angry scars across her cheek and then down on the ill-healed skin of her forearms, she sighed, resolving herself to give in to Miranda’s insistent offers to examine and treat her. It wasn’t that she thought that Garrus would be turned off by the scars or lose interest in her if she were less than perfect (or at least not in the shape he had left her). It was that Garrus would be livid with her for not taking care of herself. He would look at her in the same way that Hackett had with accusing eyes on her naïve and selfish notion that just because she had someone else to take care of didn’t mean that she didn’t have to take care of herself and that in fact, it meant that she had even more reason to make sure she was in top condition. Yes, everything that Hackett had said and that she had ignored, she would have to-

A familiar noise interrupted her thoughts. She stopped, tilting her head to the side slightly to listen. There was a distinct sound off in the distance. If she didn’t know any better she would’ve sworn that it was gunfire. Then there was a sudden realization that it was, in fact, gunfire. Her first thoughts went to Gabby. Running to look out her window, she remembered belatedly that her apartment didn't overlook the city center and all she could see were the peaceful hills in the distance. Turning around, her mind began to click into combat mode, it was like slipping on an old pair of jeans. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, her amp fired up in an instinctive response earning her a piercing shock of pain right through her left eye socket.

Ignoring the pain, she performed a quick catalogue of whatever weapons or armor she currently had in her apartment, which yielded very little. She walked into her bedroom and reached below her mattress to a hidden pocket in the bed frame. She had a side arm at least and a vibroblade, thanks to Wrex's forward thinking. Armor was another story, however. The armor she was wearing during the final push to the Citadel was charred and damaged beyond repair, probably in a recycling facility somewhere on Earth (or on its way to a museum). And all her other armor was on board the Normandy, tucked neatly and securely away in her Captain's Quarters. She settled on a long-sleeved shirt and thick trousers, both made from a heavy weave and covering as much skin as possible. Technically she should still have her tech armor, although just thinking about activating it made her feel a little nauseous. She slipped on socks and shoes and then tucked the sidearm into her trousers at her front hip and the knife at her back as she made her way out of the apartment.

Her first thought was to head toward the hospital but as soon as she exited her building, Miranda’s voice came across her earpiece.

“Shepard?”

Technology everywhere had taken several steps back in functionality and receiving communication signals inside of buildings was spotty if not practically nonexistent. She touched her finger to her ear. “Miranda. What’s the situation? I’m on foot. En route to the hospital.”

“Negative, Commander,” Miranda replied. “The hospital is on lockdown. You won’t get in.”

“Won’t?” Shepard replied flatly, not deviating from her course. “Do you know how many people have used that word with me and been proven wrong?”

“Understood, Commander. But Gabrielle is fine. The intruders are attacking the civilians an the welcome center. You breaking into the hospital will be an unnecessary strain on our limited resources.”

Shepard slowed down her pace. Her legs ached and she wondered how, not so long ago, she had been able to run around wearing heavy armor and carrying a hundred pounds worth of weaponry without breaking a sweat.

“Commander?”

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” Shepard conceded. “What do we know about the intruders?”

“They appear to be a small band of pirates. They landed at the hangar and are cutting their way across the city maybe heading toward our warehouse.”

“Quick smash and grab, sounds like. Gotta be happening all over the galaxy right now, I imagine. Lots of ships stuck in space without the relays,” she said, trying not to think about how that predicament was actually her fault.

“You’re probably right. Where are you now? How are you? You sound winded.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she replied. “Heading through the back alley of the main warehouse. I’ll try to arrange a nice welcome party for our visitors.”

“Shepard, that-” There was an abrupt pause. “I can’t imagine you have on any sort of armor on or a decent loadout. And you don’t have Garrus or Grunt on your six. Not to mention, you’re-”

“Don’t say it, Miranda.”

“Alright. Okay. Just…don’t play hero, alright? And try to remember that, contrary to popular opinion, you are not bullet proof.”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Shepard hated a lot of things. But she really, really hated when Miranda was right.

The attacking force had been overwhelming and Shepard’s welcome party had consisted of a quick succession of her discovering just how much of her biotics weren’t working any longer and how goddamn painful taking actual bullets felt. All in all, there wasn’t anything for her to be ashamed of, she knew. She had taken out at least two dozen men before her damn legs began to give out. The problem occurred when she tried to retreat. Just like Miranda had said, there had been no Garrus or Grunt at her six and when she made to exit she found that she had been shamefully and woefully flanked.

There was nothing to do then but flare up whatever was left of her amp and face down the approaching onslaught of raiders. Briefly she thought about how ironic it was that this was where and how she would finally die: on some obscure planet fighting a bunch of desperate, starving beings who were probably just looking for lunch. Quite a step down from the spectacular deaths that she had famously defied in her past. She thought of how Garrus would arrive to find his daughter all alone. Thought of what would happen to Gabby once her father gave his life to save her.

She felt the shots hit her, causing whatever pitiful tech armor she had been able to summon to fizzle out with the overload. And then there was nothing but pain where the tingle of her amp used to be. She felt herself spinning as the bullets ripped through muscles and flesh. Felt herself falling to the ground, grinding her teeth and rolling towards cover, still convinced that she could somehow survive this by sheer force of will.

Stars danced across her eyes as she coughed up hunks of warm liquid and spat. Then, she was either dead or dreaming because she felt Garrus’ arms surrounding her, scooping her up and carrying her off to safety. She recognized that distinct Turian scent and the rhythm of his loping gait as she was hauled away from the sound of gunfire and screaming, cradled in his steely embrace. She felt him stagger and fall when something took out his legs. She was vaguely aware of his body laying on top of her and rocking with each thwit, thwit, thwit sound of sniper fire soaring over them, hitting him and digging into any part of her body that was still exposed.

And then there was no more sound.

No more pain.

Nothing.

She was sure now that she must finally be dead.

She should’ve been more unsettled by the notion, she was sure. It shouldn’t have felt as familiar to her as it did. But, right or wrong, it felt like stepping into open arms. Like crawling into a warm bed. Like sunshine on an upturned face.

Miranda was right, she thought, as all feeling began to leave her. My sense of normality is definitely off.

It felt like going home.

Chapter Text

Waking up in a hospital bed was right at the top of the list of things that Jane had hoped never to have to do again ever in her entire life. At least this time there wasn’t so much pain and she had the presence of mind to remember what had gotten her there. She was on Sanctuary. She had tried to be the woman and the soldier that she had always been and had failed miserably. Her fight with the raiders had gone about as well as the SR1’s fight with the Collector ship and it felt like she had survived it in about the same condition.

She refrained from trying to move any of her extremities and focused on keeping her heartbeat steady and calm. It seemed that some of her systems, the ones she had been not-so-graciously reminded were missing, had come back online. Most helpful now was her cybernetic suite and its diagnostic abilities that allowed her to determine the extent of her injuries and how her biotics and tech were prioritizing and repairing them. Usually it was an easy thing. Short bursts of: broken bone: repairing; burned skin; treating. But the reports she was getting now were much more than bursts, more like novels. The good thing was she could feel the automatic rush of pain suppressant coursing through her system as her body recognized that she was awake and feeling.

She decided that it was safe to maybe give her vocal chords a whirl when she said, “Mwrnda?”

“Commander Shepard!”

Jane recognized the voice. It wasn’t Miranda but it held the same cool tone and accent. It was Oriana. She also heard an excited trill that she thought might be Gabby.

“It’s Oriana. Miranda is right outside speaking to someone. She’ll be right over.”

“Thun ooh,” Jane replied.

“There’s someone else here who’s been waiting for you to wake up,” Oriana supplied.

Shepard felt a tiny hand brush across her forehead and a voice she had never heard before saying, “Em, um, um.”

“Gah-bee?” Jane gasped. Other than the trills and coos that were more reminiscent of her father’s language, Gabby had never verbalized anything close to human speech before.

The excited trill that she received in response was music to Jane’s ears.

“She hasn’t wanted to leave your side. And she can be quite demanding when she wants to be,” Oriana said and Jane could almost hear the young woman struggling to contain her infant child.

“Om, emmma,” Gabby babbled in a tinny version of her father’s dual-toned speech while she continued to gently pat and touch Shepard’s forehead, nose, cheeks and mouth.

“Thwuts ma gurl,” Shepard whispered back, lifting a hand regardless of the pain to reach out and touch her baby daughter.

“Not too much movement, Shepard,” Miranda’s voice barked at her. “Your one big scab right now. Again.”

Jane still could not see anything even though her eyes were open. The short story from her diagnostics told her that time and patience would take care of it. She accepted what she thought was a sloppy kiss from Gabby on her chin before Miranda barked another order.

“Not too much touching. The synthflesh is still healing. Oriana take Gabby back to the nursery while I run a few diagnostics on her mother.”

“Unnhh! Eh! Neh!”

Gabby’s melodic happy babbling turned into furious, albeit still unintelligible, protestations. The sound pleased Jane on several levels. The first and foremost, being its obvious confirmation that her child could indeed understand and comprehend her mother’s native tongue.

With practiced ease, Shepard listened while Oriana cajoled and bribed the infant. Jane had to emphatically promise not to go anywhere (as if she could) until Gabby got back and after several more increasingly drool-laden kisses, Oriana had whisked her away without incident.

Once alone in the room, Miranda began to speak to her. “Welcome back, Commander. How are you feeling?”

“Bun worsth,” Jane replied. “I thenk.”

“Yes, well,” Miranda said. “You didn’t die this time, so there is that.”

Shepard felt her head being lifted.

“Here, swish this around in your mouth and spit.”

Jane obeyed, coughed a little bit and cleared her throat. “Uh, thanks,” she said, her mouth no longer feeling as if her tongue was too big for it. “That’s much better.”

“You’re welcome. We had a curing agent in your mouth to facilitate healing. You bit your tongue pretty good somewhere along the way.”

She laid her head back down and licked her lips. “How long?”

Miranda didn’t answer straight away and Shepard was sure that it wasn’t because she hadn’t understood the question. When Miranda did start talking again, she was right next to Shepard’s bed. “I replaced your implant and started on some of the work that I’ve been telling you that you needed since I first saw you. I hope you don’t mind. Most of it was necessary due to your injuries, but I-”

“It’s alright,” Jane cut her off. “I had already decided to let you work on me again right before the attack.”

“Well, that’s…encouraging and surprising. Can I just say something, though?”

Shepard shut her eyes since they still weren't working anyway. “Fire away.”

“My lord, Shepard,” Miranda chastised. “I don’t know how you’ve been living with this pain. You were a mess inside and I don’t think I have to remind you that I saw your insides after you had been spaced.”

Jane sighed and laughed a little. “High pain threshold.”

“Well,” Miranda continued. “I did everything I needed to do while you were sedated. We have a few more surgeries ahead of you, but they’ll be outpatient and you should be in considerably less pain going forward now.”

“Sounds good. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

Miranda stalled again. Jane thought that she could actually hear her swallow. “Six weeks,” she finally said in a tone that sounded apologetic and wary.

Jane didn’t say anything right away, letting her brain absorb the information and impact. It certainly was better than losing two years. But six weeks was a long time especially when she thought about how she had left Gabby at the hospital in the critical care unit and how now she could hear her babbling words and feel her giving kisses. In her silence Miranda had begun to give a few orders to people Jane still couldn’t see and her voice had moved away from her. She waited for a break in the activity and asked, “Miranda?”

It wasn’t until Jane felt a warm hand press down on her forearm before Miranda said, “What is it, Commander?”

For a fleeting moment she entertained asking Miranda how much longer she would continue to call her 'commander', but she decided to stay on target. That had not been what she wanted to talk about. “Gabby,” she said. “She sounded very vocal. Active.”

“Can we clear the room, please,” Miranda said and Shepard could hear the shuffling of feet fading into the distance until it sounded as if they were alone. The warm hand lifted from Shepard’s forearm before she heard the sound of something being wheeled next to her bed. “It’s incredible, Shepard. I don’t know if her hearing was more compromised than we had thought or if it’s the improvement in her vocal range from the biotic amp but she’s quite the chatterbox now. She’s out of critical care, but we still have her under surveillance in the hospital. We’ve brought her your pillowcases and blankets to comfort her with your scent and Oriana has been with her nonstop. I swear, everyday there’s something new she has to share with me about what Gabby has done.”

Shepard nodded her head smiling. She felt like crying she was so happy. A part of her was jealous, though and mad at herself for missing it. “Has she said anything? Any words?” Jane tried to still herself and reign in the jealousy. But if Gabby said ‘Ori’ before she said ‘mama’ or ‘dada’ there might be another big problem on Sanctuary.

“No, no words yet but she gets her message across, believe me.”

Jane smiled again, letting some of the tightness loosen in her chest. She opened her eyes and could see the haloed outline of the overhead lighting. “What about her spine?”

Miranda paused. “We’ve outfitted her with a modified girdle and an improved brace. She’s still at risk, but I’ve tried to reduce that risk as much as possible while still allowing her to be mobile and comfortable.”

“Thank you, Miranda.” And then Jane remembered what had gotten her into this predicament. “And what about the attack? The raiders?”

“All gone. Your final stand, although not wholly successful, provided enough of a distraction for our ground team to regroup and overtake them.”

“I thought,” Jane started and then hesitated. She remembered Garrus being there. Had she been dreaming? Was she crazy? Would Miranda want to run more tests on her if she asked. “I thought," she said and deciding to play it safe she continued, "I remembered a Turian.”

“Yes.” Jane heard a change in Miranda’s voice but she couldn’t identify what it meant. “A young resident rushed into the line of fire to drag you to safety."

So, she hadn’t been dreaming, but it hadn’t been Garrus. It seemed like Miranda had wanted to say more but was holding back. Jane dreaded the thought of what that meant. “Is he alright?”

“Oh, he was far better off than you, since you know, he actually had on armor. Um,” Miranda paused, hedging again. “Uh, he’s actually still here in the hospital, though.”

“I’d like to thank him.”

“I’m sure you will. Shepard," she hesitated again. "There’s more to it.”

“More to what?”

“The Turian who saved you. He's, um, volunteered to be tested. For the transplant.”

Shepard moved her eyes toward the sound of Miranda’s voice.

“We’ve run a few tests and he’s a preliminary match.” She stopped. “He’s undergoing further analysis but it's looking very promising.”

It was all a little much for Jane to digest. Sure, anyone might see a woman getting gunned down in the street and move to rescue her, but volunteering to sacrifice themselves to save a stranger’s child. “Why?” She finally asked.

“He’s given no real reason. Not for saving you or the transplant. He’s not the most talkative fellow. Seems he’s been here quite a while. Known as sort of a loner with a big heart. He’s got a laundry list of people that can tell tales of his sacrifices, big and small.”

“Sounds like someone the universe could stand to have around a little longer.”

“Shepard-”

“Does he know who I am?”

There was a long pause. “Unfortunately, after your communication with the Normandy and your heroics in the city streets, I’m afraid everyone on Sanctuary knows who you are now.”

Jane rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and began to gnaw at it.

“Jane, he really wants to do this. I’m not some heartless monster. I’ve had the psych evals done as part of the due process. He’s not psychotic or suicidal. He’s…strangely driven by a sense of higher purpose.”

"Higher purpose?"

"I don't know, Shepard. Everyone's come out at the other side of this war having lost someone, sacrificed something and owed somebody something else. He's no different. He just...seems to be taking it more to heart."

“I want to meet him.”

“Of course. Only…”

Jane blinked. Forms were starting to take shape and she could see the dark swath of Miranda’s hair against the whiteness of the hospital room. “Yes?”

“He’s very nervous to meet you. It’s kinda cute and understandable, I guess. You are intimidating even for those that know you best.”

“Understood. But maybe if I’m half-blind and in a hospital gown that might help?”

Miranda laughed. “We shall see, won’t we?”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

The Next Day

Jane had woken up to find that her eyesight had fully returned. She carefully rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom as she tried out her unsteady legs for the very first time. When she exited the bathroom to the sight of Miranda and an awaiting wheelchair she made no comment as she slipped on a robe and a thin pair of hospital shoes. Turning toward the door she simply stared at Miranda in open challenge and defiance.

"It's hospital policy," Miranda answered her unspoken complaint.

Shepard lifted an eyebrow. After working with Shepard for as long as she had, Miranda had to know what Jane thought about policy.

"The lab where we are headed is halfway across the hospital," Miranda supplied. "You're in no shape to make it."

Jane began walking towards her. "You're work getting sloppy, Lawson? I seem to recall waking up from the Lazarus Project and fighting through a mech invasion." She had walked right past her while talking and was not surprised to hear Miranda sigh and silently begin to follow, wheelchair in tow.

The pair fell in step together as Miranda began to fill Shepard in on her Turian rescuer. She knew very little about him personally, not where he came from or his colony or even how he had arrived on Sanctuary. Medically, on the other hand, there wasn't much she didn't know. His blood type and proteins had been a match, which sounded to Jane like the most important factors. From what Shepard could gather the only tests they were performing now were looking for illnesses or genetic markers that might not be prudent to pass on to Gabby but even they weren't deal breakers, just something to be prepared for and considered.

Jane stopped walking. Her progress had been slow and she was already exhausted. Not knowing just how much further she had to go, she looked down at the empty wheelchair and glowered at it like the nemesis that it was. Miranda, at least, limited her comment to a silent “I told you so” lift of her eyebrow while Shepard sheepishly climbed into the cold, awaiting seat. "So, he understands the risks?" Jane asked, as Miranda began to wheel her the rest of the way.

"Of course. Myself and the other doctors have made it perfectly clear what the possible outcomes could be and their percentages. He is going into this with eyes wide open, Shepard. I promise you that."

Sitting now and not concentrating on walking, Jane tried not to allow herself to even think about what this might mean for Gabby. The temptation was there to seize this opportunity and not look too closely at it. But she just couldn't allow herself to do that. It just wasn't in her DNA. So, she had spent more time on preparing what to say to talk this insane Turian out of throwing his life away. He sounded like a decent kind of guy. Maybe if she could figure out what had brought him here-

"This is it." Miranda's announcement interrupted her thoughts. She had wheeled Shepard into a large, crowded laboratory area. It reminded Jane of those mobile units that would line soldiers up to donate blood.

Shepard looked around the room searching all of the faces. She didn’t know who she was looking for but she thought that she could at least point out any Turians that she might find. To the far right of the room there was a nurse with her back to Miranda and Shepard drawing blood from what looked to be a Turian. When the nurse moved, Shepard finally caught sight of him. She hadn’t needed the “Oh, there he is” confirmation that had come from Miranda before she knew that she had found who they were looking for.

Shepard felt her wheelchair begin to move. “Miranda, wait,” she said and her wheelchair stopped.

“What is it?” Miranda asked.

Jane stared at the Turian. He had seen her as well and she watched as his mandibles flared and the plates on his forehead shifted and moved. It reminded her of Legion and how the flaps on his head would tilt and shutter as he tried to process uncomfortable or confusing information. She could only imagine the thoughts and feelings that were the cause of the reactions she was now watching on the familiar Turian face.

"Shepard?" Miranda asked.

“I know that Turian,” Jane said, never taking her eyes off of him. Her mind was racing. She had had her speech prepared, thought she had known all the right things that she would ask and say, but this? This changed everything. She spared a glance back at Miranda and said, “I’ll take it from here.”

She took her hands and slid them along the cool metal rails of her wheelchair and began to propel herself towards him. Her arms were weak and her muscles burned with the effort but the pain felt somehow appropriate. As she approached him she saw that he was hooked up to several monitors and that he had a clear tube pumping blue liquid out of one of his arms. He sat transfixed on her advancement, held frozen in his seat by something more than the tubes and needles attached to him.

“Commander Shepard,” he said in way of greeting her. His dual-toned voice flanging nervously.

Jane didn’t stop wheeling herself toward him until she was very close and even then she turned her chair so that she could get her face as close to his as was possible before she answered him. She took a breath and calmed herself before she replied, “Hello, Sidonis.”

Chapter Text

The pair sat and stared at each other for a long moment. What Sidonis was thinking, she couldn’t be sure. But she was thinking of how much different he looked from the last time she had seen him. His markings, which had already begun starting to fade back then, were mere hints of lilac reflecting off the overhead lighting of the hospital room. His hide, which had been lighter and more youthful, now resembled the seasoned and weathered wear of Garrus’ natural armor. But it was his eyes that were the most shocking. Ice blue, also like her beloved turian’s, but empty and exhausted, like an overworked mine with nothing left inside.

The nurse returned to Sidonis’ side and fiddled with the equipment attached to him. Shepard watched as the woman removed the needle out of the exposed flesh in the crook of the Turian’s elbow, placing a bandage there and folding his arm in half to hold it in place. “We’ll want to monitor your vitals for a little bit longer and then an orderly will come to return you to your room.”

“Thank you,” Sidonis replied, his subharmonics still squeaking with emotional discomfort.

Shepard didn’t think that the human nurse recognized anything abnormal in his response as she replied, “You’re welcome,” and moved off to her next patient.

Sidonis looked down at the bandage on his inner arm where the needle had been and he flexed his two long fingers before looking up to meet Shepard’s eyes. He studied her for a silent moment, tracing over her healing skin and eyeing her wheelchair questioningly. “How are you?” He asked.

“Good, thanks to you. This guy,” she said, patting the arms of her wheelchair, “is only temporary.”

“Right. You’ve been gone for a long time. I was-”. A few uncomfortable clicks escaped out of him before he stopped himself. He coughed and squirmed in his seat. “Ms. Lawson,” he amended. “She kept me informed of your condition.”

Shepard thought that the word he was going to say was ‘worried’ before he had stopped himself. She considered him thoughtfully. He reminded her of Garrus after Omega. A shell of himself going through the motions, not wanting to open up to the risk of actually caring for someone again. But, like Garrus, he was doing a horrible job of it. It was what they were made of, both of them. It was why they had gravitated toward one another on Omega and formed their little team. Somewhere between letting Sidonis go and the Collector base, Garrus had figured out that he couldn't change who he fundamentally was and in Shepard's arms, she had helped him understand why he wouldn't want to anyway. The Turian she was looking at was still 'disconnected' as Thane would put it, trying to reconcile what he thought he should be with what he always would be. It would be a never ending battle if he let it. Or a battle to the death, more like.

“What’re you doing here?” She finally asked.

“I don't know. I tried to…,” he stumbled with his words, looking around the room as he spoke. “Back on the Citadel, after you-” He cut his own words off, lowering his eyes down to stare at the floor.

She waited, looking at the fading markings along his jawline. He was practically bare-faced now. When he turned back to her, his face was open, his emotions as naked as his face.

“I told him that I would try to make it up to him but I...”

She reached her hand out to him, resting it on his forearm. He chirped and clicked and she could hear the hum of a tormented purr reverberating in his chest even though she could tell that he was working hard at hiding it.

“I tried to turn myself in...on the Citadel. But the officer there, he said I couldn't. Said I hadn't broken any law. That betrayal wasn't against the law." Sidonis stopped, as if remembering. "But he understood. He was turian. He tried to help me, tried to give me things to do that he thought might help. After the Reapers came, with all the refugees and injured, there wasn’t much of a shortage of things to do. But it was hard being around other turians. It’s…difficult to hide. They can hear and smell…everything.”

Shepard nodded her head.

He continued. Looking a little more comfortable as he spoke. “He started telling me about a human girl left without any parents and how he wanted to get her to this place.” Sidonis looked around. “I thought being around a bunch of humans might not be so bad. Humans can’t,” he stopped again and looked at her. “Most humans can’t read turians. Can’t hear…you know.”

Shepard nodded again.

“I got her here to Sanctuary because they said that’s where humans could go to be safe. But by the time we got here it was shut down. That didn’t stop the people from coming, though. They just kept coming even though the place looked like a war zone. So, there was plenty to do. To help.”

“Sidonis,” she whispered. “It sounds to me like you've done more than enough to make peace with this.” His mandibles flared. She read the determination in the way his face plates snapped tightly together.

“No,” he said. “None of it was enough. Not to sleep, to eat. To think about facing Garrus again? Not until.” He stopped and looked away from her. “Not until I saw you in the street and it was like the Spirits had finally heard me.”

Shepard shook her head. “Yes, and you saved me. Isn’t that enough? Don’t you see that you have more to give and help do?”

“No,” he answered hotly his voice rising as he shook her hand off that had been resting on his arm. “You won’t talk me out of this, Commander. Forgive me for speaking to you this way, but there’s nothing you can say that will stop me.”

“Sidonis-”

“You don’t know,” he interrupted her. And then he lowered his voice and continued, “You don’t know what it means to one of us. To a turian. To be disgraced. To be a traitor. To fail.”

Jane thought of Adrien Victus and his son’s sacrifice. “You might be surprised at what I know.”

He looked at her, his facial plates widening in acceptance of her words. “You’re probably right.”

“I don’t want you to do this.” She couldn’t think of what other arguments to give.

He shook his head, brushing off her wishes as non-material. “Is he coming?”

She nodded.

“Even if I'm able to do this, he still won’t think that it’s enough to forgive me and he’ll be right. Not even with all that I’ve tried to do. There’s nothing. I can never earn back what I’ve lost. What I want most. Just. Just let me do this, please. You said it yourself back on the Citadel, I’m not living. There’s nothing left to kill.”

She swallowed. More than most, she was aware of many of the idiosyncrasies of turian culture. Like Tarquin Victus, where anything short of self-sacrifice would've fallen short of full redemption. That didn’t mean she had to accept it, or like it. “This is a lot for me to absorb,” she said. “To think about.”

“With all due respect, Commander. It’s not for you to decide.”

She bristled. Too bad this Turian didn’t know how dangerous it was to tell her what she couldn’t do. “I believe it is. I think I have the right to decide what happens to my own daughter.”

His expression remained stony but, with her returned heightened senses, she could hear the underlying thrum reverberating beneath his chest plates and along his dual vocal chords. But he said nothing.

“What’s her name?” She asked.

He looked at her, confusion evident on his face.

“The human girl you brought here,” she explained.

He hesitated. His brain parceling out why she would be asking the question and what his best answer should be. “She…” His eyes darted away. “She supports my decision.”

She doesn’t think he is lying but that doesn’t matter. "Sidonis," she says in her most menacing voice. “I can find her with or without your help.”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Shepard wheeled herself back to Miranda who had been patiently waiting.

“Well?” Miranda asked.

“I need you to find a human female for me,” Shepard replied abruptly, wheeling herself out of the laboratory area and into the corridor. Miranda fell in step behind her and began pushing the wheelchair as Jane continued, “Name’s Alana Geismar. Also, I want a full set of armor and weapons delivered to my apartment and-”

She stopped herself. It was odd and she found it hard to describe it even to herself, but it felt as if she were putting the pieces of herself back together like clasping on pieces of armor. The shin guards. Snap. Her chest piece. Snap. Gauntlets. Snap. And finally, her helmet, suctioning closed with a familiar and comforting hiss.

It had been difficult to define herself in this new life. Anything less than being a mother seemed disloyal or inadequate to her responsibilities to Gabby. So she told herself that she couldn't be a soldier anymore. Her priorities were personal and therefore she had to be…she didn’t know what. But, whether it was the rebooting of her subsystems, so to speak, or the recent attack or something else, she was feeling more like her old self again and she had begun to realize that no matter what was happening in her life, whether it was personal or military...

She would always be a soldier.

She realized that Miranda was still waiting for her to complete her thought. “I want a weapon's table fabricated in my apartment with a storage locker.” Shepard thought of the attack and how vulnerable they had seemed. “I want access to Sanctuary’s layout and fortifications. And who do you have in charge of defenses? I’d like to speak to them, as well.”

“Understood, Commander,” Miranda said. And for the first time in a long time Shepard didn’t bristle at the use of her old title. “And,” Miranda paused and lowered her voice a little and Shepard could almost hear the smile on her lips when she said, “Welcome back."

Chapter Text

Several Days Later

Jane Shepard stood over the table in her kitchen. She held a datapad in her hand and her eyes systematically volleyed back and forth between the information on its screen and the myriad of diagrams printed out and strewn across the surface of her kitchen table. The human male in charge of planetary defense for Sanctuary, Mitchell Thompson, was standing stoically at her side. He was non-military, had run some security outfit in the private sector before evacuating Earth with his family and heading here. Upon first entering her apartment she had recognized hero-worship in his hazel eyes but after a few harsh words and hard questions regarding his decisions, that hero-worship had been melted down to plain old-fashioned deference and more than just a little bruised ego on the side.

“I had my best men working on it,” Mitchell began to speak into her silence. "We-"

He kept talking but Shepard tuned him out. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that he was full of all kinds of excuses. She ventured a look over to Gabby, sitting in a high chair on the other side of her like a second-in-command. Her baby was furiously concentrating on putting a few blocks together to form a wobbly stack. Gabby rotated and slid the blocks against one another, searching for the sweet spot that would produce the desired effect that she was striving for. Her eyes were so locked onto their targets that she probably had no idea of anyone or anything else going on around her. Her lips were mashed together in a tight line, her sub dermal plates were tucked in tight concentration on her forehead and Shepard could hear a low thrum coming from her vocal chords. She looked so much like Garrus that it briefly took Shepard's breath away.

Of course, Jane thought to herself wistfully, She would be born with the calibration gene. Silence filled the room and she realized that Mitchell had stopped talking. She looked back over to him to see him shrug his shoulders helplessly.

“I don't know what you want,” he said.

“I want those guns working," she said simply and left off the part about not excuses. She blew out a breath. "Do you have any quarians on planet?"

He shook his head and looked mildly offended. “Not that I know of.”

"Well, then find out, and I know you had some turians. Did you ask any of them?"

"Brrrr dah gah," Gabby interjected, as if offering herself to assist.

"No ma'am," the man replied and didn't offer any reason.

Shepard bristled. She didn't need any human supremacists hindering progress on this planet by ignoring help from the other species here. True, it had been a planet advertised as a 'human sanctuary' but, like Sidonis, several other species had found there way here one way or another especially now that interplanetary travel had become more like musical chairs - everyone was trying to find a place to land after the relays had stopped working. She studied Mitchell's clean-shaven face for a bit, wondering if he could be a holdover from Cerberus and made a mental note to grill Miranda about it. There was no way Miranda was still harboring any loyalty to Cerberus but she knew that the loss of extranet had hindered (or prevented altogether) any kind of thorough background checks. Shepard sighed. "Until we get those guns online, we-"

“Commander Shepard?”

An unfamiliar voice interrupted her. It was coming from the direction of her entryway. There was only one person that Jane was expecting this morning and the man standing next to her didn't need to be here for that visit. Jane ran her palm up across her forehead and down over her hair blowing out a breath in the process. “Go ahead and make the changes that we've already talked about, verify for certain that we don't have any quarians, turians or anyone claiming to be almost any kind of engineer. And I'll take a look at all of this," she waved her hand towards the table, indicating the expanse of documents lying there and added, "and follow up with you tomorrow."

The man snapped to attention and said, "Yes, ma'am."

She would be curious to see how he handled these directions. At least if he seemed to be able to take criticism and was open to course corrections, that would be a good sign. And in his defense, he had done a decent job with the resources and personnel he had scraped together since Cerberus had left this planet a disaster zone not that long ago. “Thank you," she said, trying to put some emotion into her voice to take the sting out of their initial meeting. She had almost forgotten how new crew members required a little bit of nursing of that tenuous bond of trust and loyalty. The man turned and left. Jane watched him walk away. She had been spoiled, she knew, by her teammates over the years and it wouldn't do anybody any good to hold everyone to the caliber she had grown accustomed to or expect anyone to step in line beside her without missing a beat. Still, she wasn't one to compromise and if she had to go out there and work on those guns herself she would, but she made a mental note to try and be a little gentler with him the next time they met.

“Commander Shepard?” The low tentative voice from earlier called out again, closer this time but not quite into the kitchen area yet.

“Over here.” Shepard called as she bent down and picked up one of the small toy blocks that Gabby had knocked off the tray of her high chair and placed it back next to the others. Before she could fully turn around she heard it hit the floor again. She looked back at her daughter with an accusing lift of her eyebrow.

“Dah ah bah,” Gabby argued, meeting her mother’s gaze unflinchingly and slamming her hands down on the tray to make the remaining toy blocks hop and dance, her wobbly two-block towers crumbling into oblivion.

“Don’t you ‘dah ah bah’ me, young lady,” Shepard scolded teasingly, smiling broadly as she said it.

Gabby trilled excitedly at her mother's attentions as she arched her back up against her chair, slamming her hands down and kicking her feet while awarding Jane with a large toothless grin of her own.

Shepard tried not to wince at the display. Gabby’s little ‘fit’ was a perfectly natural reaction but one that could, according to Miranda, inadvertently snap her spine under just the right circumstances. She smiled at her daughter, trying to hide her worry and concern and she wondered, not for the first time, if she was being foolish to delay her decision on the surgery while worrying about the feelings of a turian that Garrus despised.

“Commander Shepard?”

Jane turned toward the voice. A young, blonde-haired, human female stood at the entryway to her kitchen area. “Alana Geismar?” she asked.

“Yes, Ms. Lawson let me in,” the girl said, hitching her thumb back toward the front door of the apartment. “She said that you wanted to see me?”

“Nee doo dah,” Gabby answered, kicking her feet against her chair.

“Oh! Hello, cute baby,” Alana said, turning toward Gabby and scooping up the rogue block to return to her. “What’s your name?”

Gabby answered with an unintelligible chirp and gurgle and Jane supplied, “Gabby.”

“Hi, Gabby,” Alana said cheerfully and then looking at Jane she furrowed her brows and asked inquisitively, “She’s…turian?”

“Human-turian,” Jane replied. “She’s mine and…” Hmm. She stopped, thinking to herself that she really hadn’t had much opportunity to put a label of just what Garrus was to her. They weren’t married, so he wasn’t her husband and boyfriend sounded so high schoolish. She opted for evading any sort of title by amending, “Her father is a turian.”

“Really?” Alana looked surprised, which was not surprising but there was something else. Something that looked like more than a casual curiosity. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“I’m not really sure that it is,” Jane answered honestly. And when the girl looked confused, she added, “I…died…once, and was rebuilt with several cybernetic upgrades. I don’t know if a normal human-turian relationship could produce offspring, otherwise.”

“I see,” Alana replied, staring at Shepard with a look made of equal parts disbelief and awe.

Gabby buzzed her lips together and held out a drool-soaked block in the direction of Alana.

“Is that for me?” Alana replied, lilting her voice and acting as honored and surprised as if Gabby had just offered her a fourteen-carat diamond. “Thank you!”

“Dah dah nee!”

“Well, of course,” Alana answered, as if she had totally understood Gabby’s request. Then, looking towards Jane, Alana said, “She’s adorable, Commander.”

“Thank you.” Jane found herself blushing a little. She never had been good at receiving compliments but she found that ones aimed at her daughter were harder to deflect. Was it pride that made her heart swell at someone finding her daughter as adorable as she did? She had never made a habit of caring what people thought. She shook the thought off with an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders and decided to shelve that topic for another day – this was not why she had asked Alana here.

“Alana," she started. "I wanted to thank you, first, for agreeing to meet me.”

“There's no need. I…you’re a hero. I’m very honored and more than a little curious as to why you asked for me.”

Jane narrowed her eyes at her. “So, Sidonis hasn’t mentioned anything?”

“Sidonis?” The girl furrowed her brow and looked confused.

Jane paused, eyeing the girl curiously. This wasn’t going the way that she had envisioned it. But, perhaps Sidonis had kept to not using his real name? “There was a turian who helped get you here from the Citadel,” Jane explained.

“Vasyl?” Alana’s eyes lit up and got immediately watery. “You know Vasyl? Is he okay? I had heard that the Citadel, well, that-”

“No," she stopped the girl to correct her. This really wasn’t going the way that Jane had envisioned it at all. "This turian wouldn’t have been on the Citadel. He traveled here with you, I think.”

“Oh, Servirius?” she asked. “Yeah. I mean, yes, he did.”

Jane blew out a breath. Gabby swept her arm across her high chair’s table and sent all of her blocks flying across the room and onto the floor. As Jane and Alana both began to scoop up the blocks and return them to Gabby, Jane kept speaking. “This…Servirius. Does he have faded purple markings?”

“Yes.”

“And...did he mention to you that he might be undergoing a surgery?”

“Yes, a transplant to help-” Alana stopped, her eyes were on Gabby as she handed the child one of the blocks. “Oh,” she whispered.

“Yes, the operation that Servirius is considering is for Gabby. It’s a bone marrow transplant.”

“That isn’t his real name?”

Jane shook her head. “No. It’s Sidonis – Lantar Sidonis. And he did something that he regrets deeply. It was something that Gabby’s father was witness to and Sidonis thinks he can repay that debt by volunteering for this operation.”

“Yes,” Alana said, nodding her head. “Some of the details are different, but that’s about how he described it to me.”

“Do you…are you close to him? To Sidonis?”

Alana’s eyes darted away. “I…I was close to his friend. A Citadel Security Guard at the docks, Vasyl Tancolus. He talked to me and watched out for me while I waited for my family to come from Earth. When they never came, he introduced me to Sidonis and convinced me to come to Sanctuary. He told me that lots of humans were coming here and that I might find my parents or other friends and family.” She looked back at Shepard. “Sidonis was very protective, but also very…secretive and sad. I owe him my life. When we arrived here, it wasn’t easy and I owe everything to him. But…”

“Yes?”

“If you asked me here for my opinion.”

“I did.”

“Well, I spent a lot of time with Vasyl. I told him about humans and he told me about turians. He was a nice, honest man - uh turian,” she corrected herself. “From how he described their culture, I know that he was the way a turian should be.” Alana hesitated, lowering her voice. “And, I could see that Sidonis was not. He was like an empty shell compared to Vasyl. Vasyl had a purpose. He loved his job. I think…I think Sidonis was searching for his purpose and the only time I had ever seen him look as if he had come close to finding it, was when he told me about this surgery. About saving your daughter.”

Jane nodded her head in understanding. She looked at Alana. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Jane’s heart clenched. This fifteen-year-old girl seemed well wise beyond her years. She could only guess at what she had been through. “Thank you, Alana.”

“You’re welcome. I hoped I helped.”

“You did.” Shepard replied.

“Here,” Alana whispered while pressing the wet toy block into Jane's hand. “I don’t want her to think I didn’t want her gift. You can dry it off and put it in with the rest later and she’ll never know.”

Jane accepted the block, clasping her fingers around it’s squared edges. “Alana?”

“Yes?”

“Have you found any of your family?”

The girl pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No," she replied, her voice low. "Living on Earth I never dreamed there were so many humans in the galaxy. More and more keep coming and coming but…never anyone I even vaguely know.”

“Unh!” Gabby bellowed into the silence.

Jane recognized it as her ‘get me out of this chair before I freak out’ yell. “Alright,” she said, walking over and extricating her daughter from the infant seat while casually returning the block back on the tray with the others. She put Gabby on her hip and turned back to Alana. “I’m sorry that you've been separated from your family, but there's still time. Once communications are back up, who knows? We may still find them.”

“Thank you, I try not to give up hope. But, can I ask? Do you know? Did anyone survive off the Citadel? Could it be possible for…”

Jane shook her head, trying to keep at bay the visions of the piles of bodies she had walked through while on her final trip on the Citadel. She entertained a fleeting thought about lying to this girl, but couldn't do it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Anyone who didn’t evacuate. There were no survivors.”

Alana nodded her head. “Vasyl, he…he wouldn’t have evacuated. Thank you for telling me.”

Gabby nuzzled her head against Shepard’s shoulder and then gurgled and pointed animatedly at Alana while releasing a deep purr in her chest.

“I think she likes you,” Jane said.

Alana smiled. “Thanks. I like her, too.”

Jane watched as Alana turned to leave, her eyes falling down upon the datapads and printouts of the schematics and weaponry systems of Sanctuary that she had been reviewing before Alana had arrived. Gabby once again pointed toward Alana and made a buzzing sound with her lips. “Alana?” Shepard called after her.

The girl turned around, she was nearly rounding the corner that led to the front door of the apartment. “Yes?”

“Would you? Did you ever…babysit?”

Chapter Text

The Next Day

Shepard was on her way to the hospital to speak with Sidonis. After talking with Alana, she thought that she had made up her mind to go forward with the surgeries as soon as possible. Alana had ended up spending the previous afternoon with Gabby and Shepard. And while Jane continued to receive visitors and work, Gabby and Alana had become fast friends. The girl had exhibited the patience and energy required to deal with an active toddler and Gabby was captivated by the small, young, lively being so different than her normally serious mother.

This morning, Alana had returned as arranged and Jane had left Gabby home with both Miranda and Alana. Jane liked the young girl and after finding out from Miranda that she was sleeping in an over-crowded girl’s dormitory, she was even considering having her move in with them eventually, but she wasn’t quite up to leaving Gabby home alone with her just yet. She arrived at the hospital and proceeded to the wing Miranda had indicated, stopped to check in at the nurse’s station and then made her way to Sidonis’ room. She paused for a moment out in the hallway before wrapping her knuckles quietly against the half-opened door.

“Come in.”

It was Sidonis’ voice and she pushed the door forward and let herself in. She found a room with four beds in it, each with a guest chair and curtains that could be drawn around a small area. Although it was only her and Sidonis in the room now, there were half-filled glasses on night stands, jackets strewn across the backs of the chairs and empty slippers on the floor which made it seem as if every bed in the room was occupied. Sidonis was standing at the far side of the room by a small window, looking out at the view. Jane walked up behind him, keeping a respectable distance as she stood near the foot of his hospital bed. The view Sidonis was looking at wasn’t a good one by any means. Roof tops and climate control units were the only things that Jane could really see. The sky above was a warm shade of blue, but gauging from the line of his sight, that wasn’t where the turian appeared to be looking.

“Commander Shepard,” he said, keeping his back to her as he spoke.

“Sidonis.”

“You talked to Alana?”

“Yes. Although it was a bit confusing at first, Servirius.”

“I knew that both of you would be smart enough to figure things out.”

“Right.”

“And so? Did you get what you wanted?”

Shepard hesitated for a moment. “I did.”

Sidonis turned around to face her. “And?”

“I have a question.”

She could read frustration on the turian’s face.

“Just one,” she reassured him.

He nodded his head. “Shoot.”

“Afterwards. Should you survive. Will that be it? Will you have forgiven yourself?”

“I don’t think Garrus will-”

“I didn’t ask about Garrus. I’m asking about you. No matter what anybody else thinks. Will you forgive yourself?”

He closed his eyes and curled his fists against his sides. “That is my intention.”

Shepard didn't believe that he ever would, but at least he entertained the possibility, that was all she could really hope for. She replied, “Let that be my one request of you.”

He opened his eyes and unfurled his talons. “Understood, Commander. And so, then may I? Ask something of you?”

Shepard shifted her head to the side just barely, wondering what she might be getting ready to hear. “You can ask,” she replied guardedly. Although she saw Sidonis as a flawed character that was trying to make good, she still did not fully trust him.

“Can I meet her? Your daughter? Garrus’ child?”

The look on his face was very expectant and sincere. Shepard thought about the request. She didn’t immediately see any harm in it. Unless...could he mean to hurt Gabby? She didn’t think so, but she would prepare herself for that just in case. His request didn't seem all that odd the more that she turned it over in her head. He was, after all about to potentially give his life for her, was it unthinkable that he might want to meet her? “I think,” she said slowly, “that I can arrange that.”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Later that day

Jane returned to Sidonis' room with Gabby on her hip. This time she found him sitting in his guest chair with his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. The room was still empty, although some items had disappeared or moved and music was playing softly from the bed directly across from the door. Neither of the two adults in the room said anything by way of greeting. Sidonis looked intently at the baby in Shepard's arms and Shepard watched Gabby looking down at Sidonis. She realized that it was probably the first time that her daughter had seen a turian up close. Sidonis suddenly flared his mandibles, raised his chin up ever-so-slightly and let out an accompanying trill and chirp. It seemed as if an involuntary shudder ran through Gabby’s little body from her head to the tips of her toes as she burrowed herself against Shepard's body and gave a high-pitched shriek in response.

Sidonis tilted his head back down and made a soft clicking sound at the back of his throat. Shepard recognized it as a noise Garrus would make when he was puzzling something out.

"Brrrrrzzz," Gabby buzzed at him and pointed, her little legs kicking excitedly.

Jane moved her so that she was holding Gabby in front of her, the baby's back against her belly, one arm supporting her bottom and the other around her waist. Gabby continued to kick her feet and hold out her hands.

Sidonis reached out and Gabby swatted and grasped at his outstretched talons. His eyes moved up to meet with Shepard's. “May I hold her?” He asked.

Gabby began to jump and lean towards the turian, as if in response to his request. Shepard hesitated, not feeling entirely comfortable with the thought of it. She hadn’t even told Garrus that he was a father and Sidonis would be the first turian to hold her. The look on his face was so raw and earnest that as Gabby wriggled and practically threw herself toward him, Shepard somewhat reluctantly let her daughter be taken into Sidonis' awaiting hands.

Sidonis held her gently under her arms, above her girdle and braces, supporting her weight while she stood with her still-bandaged feet on his knobby knees. He chirped and clicked at her and Gabby seemed to light up and dance in response. On one hand, Shepard’s heart swelled at the sight of her daughter conversing and reacting to someone from her father’s species. But on the other hand, she began to nervously freak out a little that she was making some terrible mistake that she didn’t quite fully understand. Would Gabby somehow bond with Sidonis? Shit!

“I, uh,” Shepard stammered. “She’s never been this close to another turian before.”

“I can tell,” Sidonis said. “It’s amazing. She looks more human than turian but she is definitely capable of dual-toned subharmonics.”

“What's she saying?”

He hummed and trilled at Gabby and Gabby chirped back in return before Sidonis replied, “It’s hard to explain.”

Jane was becoming increasingly agitated. She was thinking that she should’ve researched more about this before exposing her daughter to an experience that she didn’t totally comprehend the impact of. Her body stiffened into its fight mode, hands curling into fists at her sides. “Try me,” she said, not bothering to hide the edge to her own version of subharmonics.

Sidonis froze, immediately halting his secret conversation with her daughter. He turned his blue eyes fully onto Jane, seeming to take in the meaning of her posture and the set of her jaw. “I would never hurt her,” he said.

“I don’t fully understand what’s happening between you and her, and that’s unacceptable to me. I’m sorry.”

Gabby stomped her foot and clicked at him, ever-demanding and totally oblivious to the tension between the two adults surrounding her.

Sidonis chirped something back to Gabby and handed her over to Jane. Jane cradled her protectively against her body. Gabby twisted back and forth and thrummed in frustration. Shepard looked down at Sidonis.

“She would never mistakenly imprint with anyone, Commander, if that’s your concern.”

Jane was less than pleased that he had read her so well. Gabby trilled at him and reached her hands towards him. Jane held her back. “It was one of them,” she replied tightly.

Sidonis looked down and away from her, towards the floor. “She will recognize her father when she meets him, have no doubts about that,” he said before hesitating and adding with what appeared to be a pained expression, “You probably don’t realize this, but Garrus' scent is all over her.”

Jane narrowed her eyes at him. She knew Garrus' scent. At least the scent that she associated with her favorite turian. The alien yet familiar aroma that lingered on her sheets and pillows after he would leave her. The smell of him on her and inside of her. She shuffled on her feet, uncomfortable from the heat she felt creeping up her neck. She shook it off, still confused. Gabby's smell was similar to Garrus', definitely laced with that alien scent that she associated with all turians, but not exactly the same. “No, I didn't realize...,” she replied, embarrassed at how dumb she sounded and a little angry that Sidonis was telling her things that she probably should’ve known.

He looked back up to her. “Humans’ sense of smell is notoriously blunted," he said and waved his hand nonchalantly, as if dismissing her concern. "Turians, on the other hand, in addition to our subharmonics have a entirely different level of identification and communication through our scent matrixes alone. Garrus probably thought it not worth mentioning.”

“No, I…knew about it. I just didn’t know,” she stopped not really wanting to discuss the topic in any further detail. Gabby buzzed her lips at her and pressed her little hands against her mother’s cheek. “That’s fine, thank you,” Jane finally said.

“Thank you for letting me meet her. I’m happy for Garrus. He deserves…happiness.”

She was tempted to throw him a platitude about what everyone deserves but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had worried about this visit and she wasn’t entirely happy with how it had played out. It wasn’t Sidonis’ fault. She and Garrus had talked about and discussed a lot of their cultural nuances and differences, but how to raise an infant, human or turian or otherwise, hadn’t exactly come up. Shifting Gabby from one hip to the other, she decided to change the subject to more practical matters.

“Miranda tells me that your surgery will be done first and can be scheduled straight away. A day or two of pre-operative checks and we’ll be ready.”

“I'm ready now.”

Jane took Gabby's hand, which had been patting at her cheek and tugging playfully at her lips, and kissed its palm before holding it down and away from her face. She drew a breath and said, “I’m sure I’ll see you again, both before and after your surgery. But, let me just tell you one more time how much I appreciate what you’re doing for my daughter. For me…and for Garrus.”

His mandibles fluttered a few times against his face and his eyes were resting on Gabby not on Shepard. He didn’t say anything to acknowledge her thanks but he stood up from where he had been sitting and took a few steps towards them. Gabby wriggled excitedly as he reached out and encircled her little hand in his large talons.

Jane allowed the contact, watching closely and listening as her daughter answered Sidonis’ barely audible purr with a low thrum reverberating up her throat and ending with a delighted garble of unintelligible jargon.

Sidonis breathed her in, there was no better way to describe it and then pulled his hand away, never taking his eyes off of Gabby. “Thank you, Commander,” he finally said with a hoarseness that hadn’t been there before. “And may the Spirits do with me what they will, for I am at peace.”

Chapter Text

Several Days Later

Jane stood in Mitchell’s office. She had stopped to visit him on her way back from the hospital. Sidonis’ surgery was done. The turian had made it through and was in a drug-induced coma while his spine was given time to recover. He would live, but whether he would walk or move his arms again was still in question. Gabby was scheduled for her surgery early the next morning and Jane wanted to get a few things in motion before she was out of commission for a little while. Gabby’s surgery was less dangerous than Sidonis’ but it was not without its risks. She had faith in Miranda and knew that Gabby was a fighter, but that didn’t keep her from worrying.

“So, we have the new in-comings landing here?” Shepard asked, pointing to a landing pad a few miles from the compound. When she had arrived, and when the raiders had for that matter, Sanctuary’s landing pad had been smack dab in the middle of the city center. “And we have the recorded transmission playing on loop as soon as LOS communication is established?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright.” Jane's feelings on Mitchell hadn't improved much, but at least she found that if she gave him something to do, he would do his best to attempt to do it.

“We’ve got the control tower manned twenty-four hours a day and we’ve hired a few pilots to run shuttles from the new bays to processing.”

Jane nodded her head. Maybe he was learning something. “That’s good. What about drive-bys?”

Lots of incoming ships were not looking to settle on Sanctuary but arrived only in need of news, fuel and supplies. Mitchell continued pointing to things on the map and explained how he had set up a market for normal rations and medical supplies and how they had separated processing incoming residents by those who wished to stay and those that were merely stranded while waiting for the relays to come back online. “And,” he continued saying, “We had a few chemical engineers arrive, got those reactors back up and running to full capacity so that we can start distributing fuel to those ships that want to leave.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Still making sure that we have enough to support our infrastructure?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

Jane nodded, pleased. It was nice to feel as if she could rely on things to continue improving without her constant supervision. For all the rough start that she and Mitchell had gotten off to, she was beginning to feel a little bit better after each of their meetings. He still hadn't been able to get the AA guns working, but Jane herself had gone out to look at them and was unable to figure out just what the matter was. But, feeling as if she had seen to enough and not wanting to waste any more time away from Gabby before her surgery the next day, Shepard tied up a few other loose ends before heading home.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

When Jane entered the apartment, she was immediately greeted by a very hyper Alana. The girl was bouncing up and down excitedly. “We got working terminals!”

Jane looked at the orange glow of the small screen in Alana’s hand and her heart dropped down to her toes. Were the communication buoys back online? Did that mean the relays weren't far behind? Could she possible speak or communicate with Garrus again? If so-

“Don’t get too excited,” Miranda chimed in calmly, handing Shepard a small console similar to the ones that she had used on the Normandy. “They’re a few decades back as far as the tech goes and the comm buoys overload about every other minute with everyone, everywhere trying to get communications out.” Jane followed Alana and Miranda into the living room as Miranda continued to speak. “So far nothing but old garbage is coming through and we’re not sure if anything is getting out. It’s as if the system is pulling the oldest data it can find and working its way forward from there.”

“I’m getting texts from when I was in fifth grade!” Alana added, plopping onto the sofa and staring at the display.

Looking from Alana and back to Shepard with a curious and amused smile, Miranda shrugged, “They’re better than nothing, I suppose.” She then lifted her chin indicating the console in Jane’s hands. “Try yours out, Commander. You should find that it works.”

Jane balanced the small machine in one hand while powering it up with the other. The orange glow of the interfaces flared to life. The screen fizzled and warbled a little bit before finally scrolling through several hundred lines of uploaded files. “Holy shit,” she said, and then looked around the room for Gabby. Ever since becoming a parent she had tried to watch her usually very colorful language.

Gabby was in a chair designed to let her sit up straight and work out her legs beneath her while she could spin and play with several toys attached to a tray all around her. Jane called it her ‘flying saucer’, a throwback term that Jane had picked up during the summers she had spent with her grandparents on Earth when she was very young. Alana had no idea what the reference meant.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Miranda said, patting Shepard on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze as she whispered, “I’ll see you in the morning. Try to get some rest.”

“Thanks,” Jane replied and walked over to sit next to Alana on the sofa.

“Oh my god,” Alana squealed. “Look, it’s a picture of me and my Mom and Dad!”

Jane looked at the image. Alana was much younger, but she recognized her. They seemed to be at her school for a graduation or an award ceremony. Alana was holding something up, displaying it proudly and the man and woman standing behind her (her parents) were beaming. “You look so cute,” she told Alana, tossling the hair on top of her head. “And your parents couldn’t look more proud of you.”

“I had won a contest,” she said. “An art contest. My drawing was picked out of everyone in our district.”

“You like to draw?”

“I used to.” Alana flipped the image and continued skimming through different screens. Her mood had definitely shifted a little and Shepard could understand why. It was a double-edge sword – remembering.

“And how have you been today, little lady?” Jane asked Gabby who was making buzzing sounds with her lips and spinning around in her flying saucer, totally oblivious to whatever else might be going on around her.

“This is from Gretchen!” Alana squealed. “She moved away when I was nine!”

Jane spared a glance over to Alana and smiled before looking back at her own display. She was more than a little curious as to what her terminal might decide to ‘remember’. Scanning the files anxiously, her first attention went to the dates. They were all older, for sure. They seemed to be back from when she was on the SR1, and one of the first ones she randomly decided to open made her let out an amused, “hah.”

“What is it?” Alana asked, leaning over and looking at Jane’s display.

Gabby reached over and patted at Jane’s legs, her eyes curiously staring at the orange-glowing light coming from her mother. “Well,” Jane said as she reached over and gathered Gabby onto her lap. “It’s a message from my boss.”

Gabby’s little hands swatted and patted at the new ‘toy’ in her mother’s hands, trying to figure out just what she was seeing.

Alana asked, “You have a boss?”

Jane laughed again. “Sure, I do. Well, I did. I guess this little spitfire here is more my boss these days than anybody,” she said, and bounced Gabby on her knee.

“Well, what does it say that was so funny?” Alana asked.

“It wasn’t what he said that was funny,” Jane replied trying to remember if Hackett had ever cracked a joke with her. He had been amused by her for sure and he amused Jane, just usually not on purpose. But he definitely wasn’t known for his sense of humor. Jane looked back down at the old mission request, thinking back to that time in her life.

“Well, what happened? Tell me!” Alana pressed impatiently, moving closer and sitting with her legs tucked under herself to get a better view.

“He sent me on a mission,” Jane started. “To find a lost data module.” She left off the part about the geth. “And, well, me and my team landed on the planet only to find that some monkeys had taken it.”

“Monkeys?” Alana repeated with a giggle.

Jane smiled at the memory. “You heard me.”

“Was Gabby’s daddy with you?”

Oh yes. Jane remembered Garrus complaining the entire time and teasing her relentlessly at what and how Hackett determined were priorities. She seemed to recall that he had thought it might have included blindfolds and drunken volus. “Yes,” Jane replied, giving Gabby a squeeze and talking into her ear. “Your daddy was there. Can you say: da da?”

Gabby shook her head, furrowing her brow and looking serious as she said, “unh mah dah,” while pointing at the orange screen.

Jane had been trying to get Gabby to say ‘ma ma’ or ‘da da’ to no avail. Her first birthday was coming up and she should be starting to do more than garble. But Jane had always known that Gabby's progression would be hard to decipher and Miranda was not worried, at least. Where Gabby was late for a turian baby on some things, she was early for a human on others and vice versa. Just as she had come into this universe, it seemed that Gabby would have to continue to blaze her own path.

“What else do you have?” Alana asked.

Jane scrolled through several other mission requests. Everything seemed to be prior to her…death. There were status updates, notes of thanks, notes from Anderson and the Council, etc. But near the end of the downloaded transmissions, where the most recent entries were, she noticed several attachments. She opened one of them and let out a surprised, “Oh.”

“Who’s that?” Alana asked.

On the screen was a grainy photograph taken after the Battle of the Citadel (the first one) at a celebration ceremony hosted by the Council. She and Liara were in the picture, posed with their arms around one another and magnificent smiles plastered across their faces. “It’s a friend of mine. Liara,” Shepard whispered, looking at their young happy faces and letting the memories of the evening flood into her mind.

“She’s pretty,” Alana said. “And she looks really nice,” she added in that innocent way that children thought that they could look at someone and determine if they were good people or not.

“She is really nice,” Jane replied, making it a point to use the present tense.

“Do you have any pictures of Garrus?”

Alana knew Garrus’ name, it had been one of the first things she had grilled Shepard about. She wondered if all teenagers were as curious as Alana and then trying to remember herself at that age – she had decided that they probably were. “I’m sure I do,” Jane replied, getting a little excited about the idea herself. Gabby had never seen what her father looked like.

Opening up each attachment was a crap shoot. They had been automatically assigned numerical titles that didn’t help to reveal what the contents were at all. Alana watched eagle-eyed as Shepard opened each attachment, asking for at least a name associated with every being that found themselves close enough to Commander Shepard to not only get in a photo with her but to make it in her inbox, too. There was Wrex and Tali. Admiral Hackett, Kaidan, Udina and Anderson. There was even one with Tevos, Sparatus and Valern surrounding her and looking happier than she ever remembered them looking.

Finally, one opened that was of just her and Garrus. “There he is,” she whispered, feeling a bit overcome at the sight of him. Like her and Liara, they looked so young and happy, with no idea of what lied ahead of them.

Alana had leaned in closer, nearly pressing her nose against the screen of the terminal’s display to get a good look. She pulled back and said, “He looks serious.”

Jane nodded her head agreeing. She remembered taking the photo. She and Garrus had peeled away from everyone else and were sitting at the bar together nursing their drinks. He was talking about what he was going to do next, debating on whether or not he really wanted to go back to C-Sec. Shepard remembered offering him what she thought was good advice, while still feeling as if the responsibilities of being a leader were a bit like a coat that was too large for her to fit in. Then, someone had called their names (Tali?) and the picture had been taken right as they both turned around.

“We were talking,” Jane explained to Alana.

“About getting married?” She asked, a hopeful (youthful, innocent) lilt to the question.

Jane smiled and shook her head. “No, not then,” she said. “But we were talking about the future.”

“Look, Gabby,” Alana said, pointing at Garrus in the photo. “That’s your daddy.”

Gabby mimicked Alana’s finger and pointed right at Garrus’ chin.

Jane hugged the baby closer to her, kissed her on the forehead and said, “Yep, that’s your daddy.”

“Do you have anymore?”

Alana snuggled up against Shepard’s side and let Gabby play with her fingers as Shepard continued to open the remaining files. There were two more with Garrus in them. One was a large group photo and the other was of her, Wrex, Tali, Kaidan, Liara and Garrus. Her very first crew. Her chest tightened, like so many things - she hadn't really absorbed how lucky she had been to gather such a team during her first run on her own ship.

Gabby arched back and made a garbled noise of frustration, it was not entirely human and not entirely turian but one of those universal sounds that were recognizable in any language.

“I think someone is tired and hungry,” Jane said, shutting down her machine and standing up with Gabby in her arms. She looked down at Alana. “Have you eaten?”

Alana looked up to Jane and shook her head.

“Why don’t you hang around while I feed her and put her down and we can scrounge something up together?”

Alana nodded. “Okay.”

“Say good night, Gabby,” Jane said.

Gabby shook her head back and forth and grunted, not in the mood to entertain anyone.

Jane smiled and kissed her cheek as she carried her toward the bedroom.

“Good night, Gabby,” Alana called after them.

Chapter Text

Once in her bedroom, Jane shed off her jacket and sat with Gabby in the large chair by the window. Snuggling down together, Jane systematically unclasped the buttons of her shirt while Gabby anxiously nuzzled and whimpered. Once latched on and settled down, Jane simply watched her daughter. Gabby’s blue eyes locked onto her mothers. The trust in that gaze was still sometimes simply overwhelming.

Breastfeeding was more of a nighttime routine between the two of them than pure nourishment now. While Jane had been in the hospital for those six weeks, Gabby had transitioned wholly to milk-substitutes and semi-solid foods. Jane had even entertained the thought of just not taking it up again at all, but once back home with Gabby, through a little trial and error on both of their parts, she had found that her baby wasn’t quite ready to give up on the intimate bonding that this feeding time provided and Jane found that she was more than happy to oblige her.

As Gabby’s eyelids began to become heavy and her stare began to haze over drunkenly, Shepard thought about the old messages and activating the terminals. Communications could be coming back online soon, which meant that relays might soon follow. She hoped that meant that Garrus could arrive quicker than she had imagined. She knew that as long as he was traveling at FTL speeds, she still wouldn’t be able to communicate with him – not if the QEC wasn’t working. And then, she thought that she shouldn’t assume that Hackett would send Garrus on the Normandy at all. Surely there were more important things for her old ship to do than chauffeur her lover around. And if he wasn't on the Normandy his progress could be even slower.

She tried not to think about that. The days and the waiting were weighing more and more on her. Gabby was growing everyday, changing and Garrus was missing so much. And going through her surgery alone, sitting in the waiting room and worrying. She wasn’t looking forward to it. She and Garrus had always been partners, even from the very earliest beginning. But not like this. This was more than just depending on him. More than him having her six. They had made something together: a family. And that family was incomplete without him, she felt incomplete without him in a way she had never experienced before. She blew out a breath and closed her eyes.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Once Jane had put Gabby down for the night, she sat down to eat dinner with Alana. The young girl brought her terminal to the table and kept it next to her plate, still thumbing through her inbox while she ate. Shepard watched her for a few minutes, thinking about scolding her with something along the lines of “can you please put that away while we’re eating?’ But then decided against it, thinking that it sounded too…mothering.

Alana chattered away excitedly, sharing stories of the different people that she was finding old correspondence from and sometimes reading the letters word-for-word. Once their plates were halfway eaten, Jane stood and grabbed a glass and a bottle of wine along with her own terminal. Sipping on some wine, she joined Alana in scanning through her old emails and remembering her old life.

Alana did most of the sharing and talking but after coming across a note from Admiral Ahern regarding his apartment, Jane told the story of the combat simulator at Pinnacle Station and about the wager with Ahern and her winning his retirement home. And then, there was silence for a long time. She didn’t know if Alana had run out of incoming files or if the files weren’t worth mentioning any longer, or something else.

“I think I’m going to send them a note,” Alana finally stated simply.

Jane looked over to her. The girl’s fingers were resting on the holographic input as if awaiting permission. Jane knew that the girl was talking about her parents. She took a sip of her wine, not really sure if it was such a good idea. A sent email, unanswered- could be very painful. But then the act of sending it implied hope. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” Jane whispered.

She watched as Alana typed, her fingers moving sometimes fast and then stilling while the girl gnawed at her bottom lip and concentrated. Jane took one more sip of her wine and then set the glass down. She pulled her terminal towards her and studied it for a long moment before pressing the button for a new correspondence and typing in Garrus’ last known intergalactic communication address.

Jane found herself immediately in the ‘hands stilled on the holographic input struggling to find the words to type’ mode. There was no telling when and if this would reach Garrus and so she didn’t want to start spilling out the entire story of everything that had happened since they last saw each other. If she hadn’t wanted to tell him about her pregnancy and their child over an intercom, she certainly didn’t want him reading it in a random text file.

In the end, she decided on something simple.

She started typing:

To: Vakarian, Garrus

From: Shepard, Jane

Hey. Don’t know if you’ll get this, but we’re just testing out communications here on Sanctuary. Just wanted to let you know that I’m not-so-patiently waiting for you, so quit ‘taking your sweet time’ to get here and double time it.

Her hands stilled once again, mind debating on the right words. She looked over to Alana. The girl was typing, slower now but steady. Jane looked back at her screen.

She typed:

I miss you more than you can know.

Jane

She hit send and immediately powered down her terminal and shut the lid. She went to pour another glass of wine, but remembering the day she had ahead of her, thought better of it and simply finished off the glass she had.

Alana looked up to her. “I’m finished.”

Shepard nodded. “Me, too.”

“Wanna read mine?”

Shepard read what Alana had written and was surprised by how comprehensive and concise her message was. If it were her daughter lost and separated for over a year, it was exactly all the pertinent information that she would’ve wanted from an initial correspondence down to her health and the system and planetary coordinates of Sanctuary. She had ended in much the same way as Shepard had, with an “I miss you” to close it out with.

Jane pushed the terminal back towards Alana. “You did a good job. That’s perfect,” she said and she watched the young girl’s eyes trail over the words again before hitting ‘send’.

The mood at the table had definitely turned somber and another long silence settled over them. Alana moved the remaining food on her plate around for a little bit before finally asking, “What exactly did Sidonis do?”

Jane looked over to the girl. Alana’s eyes were still glued to her dinner plate. Jane wondered where the question was coming from and why she had decided to ask it just then. When she didn’t say anything, the girl looked up to her. Her eyes were a little watery and her gaze was pleading.

“He, uh,” Jane struggled to find the right words. Alana wasn’t a child but she wasn’t an adult or a soldier, either. “He and Garrus formed a squad together on a lawless space station. They fought criminals and helped the helpless until…” Jane eyed the bottle of wine and once again had to talk herself out of drinking it. She soldiered on. “Sidonis betrayed and abandoned Garrus and the squad. His betrayal led to everyone dying except for Garrus and that was only because I happened to arrive and save him just before he nearly got killed.”

Alana, who had been watching Jane intently while she spoke, looked back down at her plate and said, “And you forgave him?”

Shepard watched the girl. “He made a mistake. He was scared, cornered. It doesn’t make it right, but carrying around hate for him won’t make it any better, either. I didn’t want him to do this surgery, I didn’t think he needed to give his life to pay for what he’d done.”

“But you let him.”

Jane shrugged. “In the end it was his choice. I couldn’t decide for him how he could make it right inside of himself. Do you understand that?”

Alana shook her head.

There was another span of silence between them. Alana stared down at her plate before finally looking up and opening her mouth to speak. For a long, drawn out moment, no sound came from the girl's lips until finally she croaked, “I...I didn't-”

Shepard watched as Alana buried her face into her hands and started sobbing. “Alana,” she said, shocked with the sudden breakdown as she scooted her chair over and pulled her into an embrace.

Alana turned her head and buried her face against Shepard’s shoulder as her body rocked with sobs. “My parents didn’t want me to go on that shuttle without them,” she started saying, her words broken up through her tears. “I told them I could take care of myself while they waited for the next shuttle. I thought it was going to be an adventure. They were supposed to be right behind me. I even, at first, wanted them to take a little longer so I could be by myself on the Citadel. I thought it was fun. I was…so stupid and selfish.”

“Shhhhh,” Jane soothed her, stroking her back and kissing the top of her head. “You weren’t stupid or selfish. It’s perfectly normal to want to start being on your own and you couldn’t possibly have known.”

“They knew,” she sobbed. “They were so worried. I remember the looks on their faces when we said goodbye and I was so…excited. When my mother tried to hug me and I…”

Jane could imagine the rest. She could recall the uncomfortable dodge and shirk of adult affection that she put into practice from about age nine onward. “It’s alright,” she whispered. “No matter what you did or what you said, your mother and father both know. Parents…trust me they just, they just know.”

They stayed that way for a long while until Alana’s sobs calmed down into gentle sniffs and wipes of her nose and eyes with her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before extracting herself from Jane’s embrace and sitting back against her chair.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, to me or your parents. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”

The corners of Alana’s mouth turned down as she struggled to stop another onslaught of tears. She nodded her head grimly and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

Jane looked over toward the window. It was dark outside, passed the time that Alana usually left to head to the dormitories. She reached over and put her hand on Alana’s knee. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, in the spare bedroom? Does that sound okay?”

Alana nodded.

“Okay,” she said, squeezing her knee before pushing off the table to stand. “I’ll clean this up. Why don’t you go freshen up a bit? I’ll put something out on the bed for you to sleep in.”

“Alright.”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

It was well into the night when Shepard slowly came awake. As a soldier, she could fall asleep anywhere – at the drop of a dime if need be. But, on the other side of that same coin, she was also a very light sleeper. She lifted her head up and looked first into the crib nestled next to her bed. Gabby was sleeping, making soft purring sounds with each exhale out. A shadow crossed over Gabby’s face and Jane bolted upright and turned toward the door.

“I’m sorry.”

It was Alana, standing in the doorway wearing Jane’s too-big t-shirt with the words ‘Property of the Alliance Navy’ written across the front. “That’s okay,” she whispered, reading the uncomfortable posture of the young girl’s stance. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just that I haven’t really slept all by myself since leaving Earth. I know it sounds dumb, but-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jane interjected while pulling the covers back on the far side of the bed opposite where Gabby’s crib was. “Come on. Hop in.”

Alana hesitated, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I’m not gonna bite,” Jane teased. “And we’ve got a big day tomorrow, c’mon, let’s get some rest.”

Alana padded softly into the room and hurriedly slipped under the covers. She laid on her side, as close to the opposite edge of the bed as she could get and with her back to Shepard. She tucked the blankets up under her chin and whispered, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Shepard replied, turning to her side with her back to Alana, looking down at Gabby. Before long she could hear Alana’s deep, steady breaths behind her combining in stereo with Gabby’s in front of her. She listened to them for a long while, before finally falling back to sleep.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Jane opened her eyes. She was lying on her back in her bed. By the darkness still engulfing her bedroom she knew that it was still early in the morning. She looked down at the teenaged girl snuggled up against her side. Alana had apparently moved during the middle of the night. She now lay with her head tucked up under Shepard’s arm, her body curled against Jane’s body.

As she looked up at the ceiling, she thought back to the events of the night before. She remembered how Alana had gone from the high of recovering lost memories to the low of replaying the events that lead to the separation of her and her parents. It was hard enough for an adult to come to terms with the choices they made and their consequences. It seemed unfair for a young girl to have to struggle with that. Jane tightened the arm that was already encircling Alana and rubbed her back. She closed her eyes for a moment, curious as she wondered how Garrus might feel about coming home to not just one daughter...but two.

Chapter Text

“Oh! You win!” Alana squealed, rubbing at her hands and giggling.

Jane looked up from her terminal. They were in the hospital waiting room. Alana and Oriana were sitting on the other side of a large, low coffee table from her. They sat facing each other on a vinyl sofa playing a hand slapping game.

“That was close,” Oriana replied, smiling at the younger girl and glancing over to Shepard.

Gabby had been in surgery for over three hours now and this was about the fifth game that Alana and Oriana had conjured up to play as they all waited.

“One more time?” Alana asked.

“Sure,” Oriana said, holding her hands out between them with her palms up.

Jane looked back down to her terminal. There was nothing new as far as correspondence went and extranet searches were unsuccessful so Jane had begun to clean up her inbox, deleting old messages, archiving those that she wanted to keep and renaming all the photos to make them easier to search and find. And that had taken her about an hour and half to do. After that, in between rereading her favorite emails, staring at her favorite pictures and watching Alana and Oriana, she was playing her own game of trying not to stare at the double doors that led into the surgery suite while tamping down on the anxiety that was growing inside of her for any kind of update or news.

Another couple of hours drug by. Jane ran her fingers through Alana’s hair as the young girl slept with her head on Jane’s lap.

“She was lucky to find you,” Oriana whispered as she watched Jane with the little girl.

Jane nodded. “And there’s so many more.”

Oriana made a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. “You’re just like my sister.”

Jane looked up to meet Oriana’s eyes, waiting for her to clarify the comment.

“Nothing short of perfection is good enough for your two. You’ve saved so many. Opened your house and heart to this stranger and yet it isn’t enough because you didn’t save them all.”

She said the last few words with a flourish that made them sound as ridiculous as they were. It was sadly true. If there was one thing that Jane had learned by now it was that she couldn’t save them all. No one could. But that didn't mean that she had to like it or accept it as completely inevitable. Perhaps, she thought, it was the striving for the impossible task of saving them all that allowed her to save so many.

“We’ll have a school up and running within a few weeks,” Oriana continued into Jane’s silence.

“That’s wonderful,” Jane replied, looking down at Alana’s profile, so angelic in slumber. “I’m not sure how happy she’ll be about it, though.”

Oriana laughed lightly. “Oh, they’ll complain. But in the end, they’ll love it. Normalcy,” she said. “Even school, doctor’s shots and nine-to-five jobs, makes everyone feel real and secure. You don’t hear those kinds of complaints when you're fighting for your very existence. Complaining…well, it’s actually a good thing.”

Jane studied Oriana for a moment. Remembering that Miranda had mentioned that the young woman had aspired to be in colony development, it made sense now how she appeared to be in her element. It looked as if she had gotten her wish, just maybe not in the way she had envisioned.

“What do you know about the communications?” Jane asked.

“It’s strange,” Oriana answered. “While everything else is coming back online, communications seems to be regressing. I don’t even think we have the capability of relaying with Earth any longer as we were able to when Admiral Hackett hailed you.”

Jane frowned. “Why’s that?”

“That’s the million cred question, apparently. Mitchell’s got a crew working day and night on it and he’s very touchy about their lack of progress. I think he feels personally responsible for it. Poor guy. He’s put himself under tremendous stress.”

Jane shook her head, thinking. “I’ve tried to locate any Quarians or Turians. Do you know if we’ve had any new arrivals? Even an Asari might prove more helpful.”

“That’s strange, too,” Oriana replied, matter-of-factly. “Our arrivals have all but dried up. We figure anyone who was within lightspeed travel to us has made it by now. Anyone else would have to be coming here specifically. Like your Alliance vessel and...it’s not here yet.”

“Hmph,” Jane responded, creasing her brow. Something seemed odd about that theory. But before she could think on it any further, the double doors leading into the surgery suite slid open and Miranda came striding out.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

The room was all cool metals, white walls and bright lights. There was the whir of various equipment and monitors and the murmur of medical personnel beyond the thin curtain that separated Gabby’s hospital bed and the rest of the hospital floor. Jane looked down at her daughter, strapped down on the hospital bed, arms and legs restrained at the wrists and ankles, head held tight between bright orange padding.

The surgery had gone well. Extremely well, according to Miranda’s report but only time would tell if the desired effect would actually come to fruition. If the transplanted bone marrow would fuse and grow within the spinal column of her little girl. The one saving grace was that they would not have to wait long. Young genes and rapid growth would mean that either Gabby would be struggling to walk in a few weeks or she would be succumbing to accepting life in a wheelchair.

Jane stood next to her with one hand resting across her daughter’s chest, refusing to entertain any other possibility but that of complete success. She was waiting for Gabby to come out of the anesthesia. Chances were she would awake disoriented and in some pain and Jane wanted to be there to comfort and assure her. Chances also were that she wouldn't stay awake long as her body would be naturally tired from the stress of the surgery. Jane's hand moved with the rise and fall of Gabby's chest and she could feel the rapid heartbeat beneath the slight keel of her turian-like rib cage. Slowly, the rhythm of Gabby's breathing changed and her tiny body began to tense, muscles struggling against their restraints as she tried to move.

“Shhhh.” Jane lowered her head down closer to Gabby’s face and placed her palm against her cheek. “It’s alright. Don’t move. It’s all over.”

Gabby with eyes still clamped shut, whimpered in response as she struggled to move her head, her mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. Finding it impossible to move, she keened mournfully as a large teardrop slid down the side of her face.

“I’m right here,” Jane whispered reassuringly. “Mama’s right here.”

Gabby’s eyes fluttered open and blinked a few times before falling onto her mother. Her eyes were wide with fear but steady with a questioning trust.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jane whispered.

Gabby’s mouth moved up and down once more as if she were trying to speak but her vocal chords had not yet awoken.

Jane bent down and kissed her on her forehead and when she pulled back away she found Gabby studying her carefully.

Gabby swallowed and opened her mouth again, determination written all over her face. Trying out her vocal chords, only a few hoarse and scratchy coos finally came out.

“What is it, sweetie?” Jane asked. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”

Gabby clamped her mouth shut and breathed in through her nose. Jane could read frustration in the set of her jaw. When she opened her mouth again, she chirped out a few practice sounds and then breathed deeply. Her lips came together a few more unsuccessful times before she finally said, clear as day, “Mama.”

It was no doubt the sweetest word that Jane had ever heard in her entire lifetime. Everything else be damned, whatever happened from here, she wouldn't trade anything for this moment. She bent down and kissed Gabby's forehead again and received an answering trill in return. When she pulled away again and looked down at her daughter, Gabby said the word again, "Mama," as if to prove that it had not been a fluke.

"Yes, I'm here," Jane said smiling. "Don't go showing off now. You need to rest."

Gabby blinked heavily a few times and purred contentedly. She let out one more drowsy, "Mama," before falling back off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Several Weeks Later

“No, Gabby,” Shepard corrected. “Not in your mouth.”

Little Gabrielle Vakarian stood shakily on her tiny legs, skinny for a human and much too fleshy for a turian and banged her hand on the short table that she was holding onto for support. “No,” she replied sternly, crinkling her little bumpy forehead and fixing her clear, fearless blue eyes on her mother. “Not mouth!”

Jane Shepard glared back at her young adversary, narrowing her eyes at her. Her and Garrus’ child was not only a miracle baby but apparently also temperamental as all hell. The older she got the more it was that she could not be reasoned with and seemed to sometimes do the opposite of what Shepard wanted just entirely for spite. Was that even possible? Could a toddler be capable of spite?

“The family resemblance is remarkable,” Miranda murmured under her breath as she broke the stony silence between the pair.

Shepard heard her friend speaking but didn’t take her eyes off of her daughter. Yes, when little Gabby Vakarian stared back at her with Garrus’ eyes and his infuriating stubbornness, it was hard not to see him so clearly in her mind. “Yes, it is,” Shepard replied, giving up the game as she looked away and swearing that Gabby smiled in triumph as she went back to her task of motoring around the table on her unwieldy legs and tippy-toed feet.

As Jane turned back to Miranda, the dark-haired woman stared at her for a long moment, seeming to size something up in her mind. “I was talking about you, you know?”

“Me?” Jane looked back at her daughter, a hard look of concentration on her young face as she ambled towards an obviously particularly tantalizing looking piece of dirt. “With those eyes and the bumpy ridges? She looks just like-”

“Garrus,” Miranda interrupted her. “I know. I was speaking more towards…her temperament.”

“Funny,” Shepard replied, giving Miranda a wry smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that stubborn.”

“Funny,” Miranda quipped back. “I don’t think you’ve ever not been that stubborn.”

“So, where were we?” Shepard asked, changing the subject.

Miranda looked down at the datapad setting on her lap. “She’s about a year behind on all of her milestones, we knew that. But the grafting is all nearly healed and there hasn’t been any adverse reactions to the implants and cybernetics. And I couldn’t be more pleased with the success of the transplant.” She looked back up and then added, “Great news all around, I'd say.”

“And so..." Shepard glanced back down at Gabby. "The bad?”

Since the day the first doctor in London had told her she was pregnant, Jane Shepard had learned to take ‘bad news’ in perfect stride. Baby Girl Vakarian was not supposed to survive past the first trimester of her pregnancy and then certainly not through the trauma of childbirth. She then was not given a high survival rate, the most generous being one standard year. Every time she beat the odds, more doom and gloom was doled upon them. She would never walk, never talk, never feed herself or hold her head up on her own. Gabrielle Vakarian made a life out of defying all odds, just like her mother before her.

“Not so fast,” Miranda chided, resting back in her chair and crossing her legs. “I wasn’t finished with the good. She’s also off the feeding tube and no longer needs the oxygen, even at night, correct?”

“Yes,” Shepard concurred. “If a human-turian hybrid child can live off of peanut butter alone, then we’re all good.”

“I think that’s completely normal, even for a human child,” Miranda replied with a slight chuckle. “So, yes. We’ll check that off the list.”

Shepard drew in a deep breath, tired of waiting. “And so the bad?”

Miranda sighed. “Not anything bad, per se. But we’ve done all we can here, Jane. I know it took two years to rebuild you, but that was a different project altogether. Sure, we’ll have to regraft and revisit as she grows and technology advances, but there’s nothing more we can do for her now.”

Jane looked down at her daughter just in time to see her grab that piece of dirt and bring it to her mouth. “Gabby,” she said, in a tone of voice that she had seen many a Krogan bow down to. The toddler seemed unperturbed, however, as she looked first at her mother and then back at the dirt.

“Not mouth,” Gabby scolded the speck on her fingertip as if it had been all its idea.

Shepard smiled and turned back to Miranda. It was not like her friend to present a problem and not have a solution already in tow. “And so?”

“And so…we should relocate you to a rehab facility. One that specializes in cybernetics and biotics,” she said, shutting down the datapad and sighing. “I’m lo to admit that you and I both know who the foremost trainer of young biotics is right now.”

“Jack,” Shepard said. It was not a question.

“Jack,” Miranda agreed. “Last I heard, she had it in her head to get Grissom Academy up and going again, but since communication has become so unreliable – I’m not sure just how far she’s gotten there.”

“And I certainly can't just up and leave until Garrus finally gets here,” Jane replied. And then lowering her voice, she asked, "Speaking of communications, have you heard anything? Were you able to get in touch with the Alliance at all?”

In the past several weeks both Miranda and Jane had been trying (in varying degrees) and failing (in varying degrees) to determine what the reason was for the communications' blackout. Shepard had continued to send Garrus messages to his last known address and had even used some of the securest channels she knew of to reach out to Hackett or someone on the Council, but all to no avail. The arrival of transports, as Oriana had eluded to at the hospital, had well and truly come to a grinding halt and the overall feeling around the compound had become one of anxious trepidation of some looming, inevitable disaster. There was something in the air. Whether an enemy was among them or bearing down on them from afar, there was no better way to phrase it: the natives were getting restless.

Miranda looked around the room. They were in the outpatient rehabilitation wing of the hospital. Several therapists and patients were working on varying degrees of motor skills. Everyone seemed preoccupied with their tasks, but Miranda had become more and more skittish as of late. “We shouldn’t discuss this here,” she said. “How about we do dinner tonight at your place?”

Gabby had made her way full circle around the table and took a few tentative steps as she fell against Jane's legs. Gabby made a buzzing sound and rubbed her face against her mother's thigh. Jane scooped her up to sit on her lap. “That sounds good,” Shepard replied while brushing the wispy hairs away from Gabby's cheek and kissing her forehead. “You and Oriana?”

"Yes,” Miranda replied, standing up and readying to leave. “We’ll see you tonight.”

“Perfect. Say goodbye, Gabby."

Gabby looked up and held her chubby fingers out as she curled them into her palm a few times in a mock wave. "Bye, bye," she said before turning back toward her mother and planting a sloppy kiss against her neck.

Chapter Text

The Next Day

“She’s doing well?”

He rolled up to them in his wheelchair. Jane hadn’t noticed his approach; her eyes had been transfixed on Alana helping Gabby to motor across and over some play equipment.

“She is,” Jane answered, turning to face Sidonis.

They saw him here often, in the rehabilitation wing of the hospital. While Gabby breezed through her physical therapy sessions with the easiness and callousness of youth, he suffered in comparison. He would never walk again. And not in the way that had sometimes been whispered about Gabby. Not in the way that was said about others only to have odds beaten and doctors baffled. His odds were astronomical. Him beating them would be a miracle. It took him hours of sweat and struggle to merely stand. The goal of his therapy sessions was not to walk. The goal of his sessions were to train him to live on his own someday, in his new reality.

He was not bitter.

He sat quietly and watched Gabby. Jane silently watching him in return.

“Any word on Garrus’ arrival?” He asked the question without looking at her.

She knew how much it weighed on him. She thinks that his desire to be forgiven might just be stronger than his desire to walk again. “Nothing,” she replied. “I’m expecting him any day.”

Dinner with Miranda last night had been fruitless. Shepard was becoming more and more restless and tired of waiting. The AA guns were still not functioning. Communications weren’t coming in or getting out. At least they don’t know if they were getting out. And incoming ships had stopped arriving. Period. Jane was ready to take action. Any action. Miranda wanted to plan. To vet personnel. To flush out the mole or moles. Jane curled her hands into a fist. Subterfuge and patience were not two of her strong points.

“So, Garrus," Sidonis spoke into her silence. "How do you think...? What do you…?”

The questions died on his lips. But she knew what he wondered about. What he feared. And truly, she wondered herself. She hadn’t been there on Omega. Sidonis had been the first one to team up with Garrus, that she knew. They had been close and she could still see the things about Sidonis that Garrus would’ve liked and been drawn to. But she could also recall vividly how angry and set on revenge that he had been. She shrugged her shoulders. It wasn’t for her to say or guess at, but she replied, “You saved his daughter’s life. You saved my life. I’ve gotta think that’s gonna be worth something.”

He turned his head away. Looked out toward the playground and said quietly, “The old Garrus wouldn’t have even needed that.”

This comment caught Jane off guard. But as she considered it, she thought that he might be right.

Sidonis turned his face to look at her. “I changed him. That’s on me. I’m still willing to pay that price.”

Life is strange, Jane thought to herself. People, human or turian or otherwise, are even more so. She had seen a lot of things in her life. Seen people in some of the most stressful and dire situations imaginable. She had seen some rise to the occasion, some succumb to it and others capitalize on it. But she knows Garrus. Sure, there had been a time where he teetered on that precipice. That invisible line between compassion and heartlessness. But she liked to think that she reeled him back to something of the man that he had once been before Omega. Before she had up and died on him. The man that she had first met. The man that she knew. And that man would forgive Sidonis.

She looked back at the turian sitting next to her. “Sidonis?” She asked.

“Yes?”

“How are you with tech?” She was thinking of the issues that Sanctuary seemed to be having. Thinking that occupying Sidonis’ mind on anything but his current circumstances and Garrus’ return would be a good thing. Maybe that it would be a good thing for both of them. “Gun batteries or communications arrays?" She added. "Anything?”

She remembered the conversations that she and Garrus had about his squad. When he had been in the mood to talk about them. Sidonis had been brilliant with weaponry, if she remembered correctly.

At hearing her question, his body appeared to straighten a little in his wheelchair. The spines of his head crest flaring almost imperceptibly with what Shepard recognized as pride. “Damn good, actually,” he replied.

“I think I could use your help.” She looked around. “Do you get passes out of this place or what?”

Sidonis chuckled. It was the first time she’d heard that sound from him. “It’s not a prison. As long as I have wheels," he patted the armrests of his chair and added, "I can go where I want.”

She looked around. She should contact Miranda. She should take the girls home first. But if they just looked around. That couldn't hurt anything. She stood up, felt for her holdout weapon at her lower back and said, “Let's take a walk."

XXX-OOOO-XXX

The four of them walked together. There was a major power and communications hub that fed the hospital. Jane felt that it was safe enough to check out what they could find there. 

They approached a long ramp and the girls ran up, giggling and screeching as they went. "What are you expecting to find?" Sidonis asked. 

"No idea," Jane replied, her eyes darting around and her trigger finger feeling mighty empty. "Probably nothing."

"You're not a very good liar."

"Thanks."

When they reached the communications relay, Jane casually shimmied the door open to the small shack and helped Sidonis wheel his chair inside. She kept an eye on the girls as they ran to and fro, Alana holding Gabby's hand while she walked along unsteadily.

Suddenly there was a deep drone and shudder as all the lights within their visual radius dimmed, flashed and then returned to normal.

Jane tilted her head back into the small room. "What the fuck was that?"

"A governor," Sidonis answered, his voice strained. "Some type of governor. It's..." He grunted and Shepard heard something snap and pop. "It's filtering messages. Definitely diverting communications. " His voice had become excited and he was speaking quickly. "This isn't it's source, but I'm making incremental changes in the code during the power dips. I think I can..." He grunted again and the lights outside dimmed, flared and flickered in agitation.

"Easy with the lights!" She warned through clenched teeth. "Alana," she yelled. "Don't go too far."

There was a loud pop followed by an even louder repeating alarm. Sidonis came charging out of the little room, nearly knocking Shepard down. "We might want to get out of here," he said.

Shepard's omnitool began to chime with incoming message notifications. She looked down just long enough to see her inbox shoot up to the hundreds before she silenced it and said, "No shit." She turned toward where the girls were approaching. "C'mon," she said to Alana as she picked up Gabby and looked toward the long ramp from where they came.

"What's wrong?" Alana asked

"Nothing," Shepard said calmly, watching a couple of uniformed men talking in the street and feeling her omnitool buzz incessantly. "We're going back to the hospital." She looked over to Sidonis who had already seen what Shepard had and was backpedaling his wheelchair in the opposite direction.

"But, this isn't the right way-"

"It's a new way," Jane replied, trying to keep her voice calm although Gabby was already mewling in reaction to her mother's irritation.

"Shepard?"

She nearly tripped over her own two feet when she heard that voice. She touched her finger against her ear. "Garrus? Is that you?"

"Shepard," Garrus replied. She could hear the sound of gunfire and explosions in the background. "Whatever it is you did down there. If you did it. We need you to do it again."

"Affirmative. I did," she replied, running at a trot now as they headed toward the next exit ramp. She looked behind her. So far so good. "But I don't know if I can do it again just now."

"Shepard." There was a burst of static and his transmission began to break up. "-ockade. We need the-" More static. "-ield down. And big giant guns if you-"

There was another burst of static and a piercing noise that nearly blew Jane's eardrum and then there was nothing. "Down, down," Jane ordered as they reached the next exit ramp and ducked behind the balustrade, Sidonis doing the best that he could in his wheelchair. She peaked around the corner and saw the two men round the corner outside the communications' shack that they had just been in, they looked alert but more annoyed than suspicious. One made a gesture and went inside and the other spoke into a handheld radio.

"What's happening?" Alana whimpered as she huddled next to Jane.

"Nothing," Shepard soothed her and kissed Gabby on the head at the same time. "Nothing. We're fine."

Sidonis had turned his wheelchair and was looking at her, his head still bent down below the railing. "You heard...?"

"Yeah." She kissed Gabby's head again and rubbed Alana's back.

Sidonis looked down the path and surveyed their surrounding. "I know the code, what to look for. I can do it again. But we need to get to the main tower. From there I might be able to help with those guns, too."

Shepard looked at both of the girls huddled in her arms.

Sidonis lifted his head up a little and looked back toward the shack. "They don't look too riled up," he said. "Unless they know how to trace and read a hacked code, they'll probably just pass it off as a false alarm."

She looked at him, knowing that he was right. She hugged both the girls in her arms closer to her, she thought about getting them somewhere safe, but without knowing what was going on there was no where safer for them to be than with her. The only thing she would've rathered was to be in full armor and more fully armed. But there was nothing for it.

Sidonis seemed to read her body language and hesitation. "We should go now. Chances are they're gonna run some analytics and I didn't have time to cover my tracks."

Shepard drew in a deep breath knowing that he was right. Regardless, however, all she wanted to say was: "I can't. Let someone else do it this time." But she couldn't. She couldn't get the sound of explosions and gunfire out of her head, or the worried flange in Garrus' voice over the radio. He was there, so close and he needed her. She sighed and said, "Okay."

XXX-OOOO-XXX

They walked unhurriedly, like tourists on a stroll. Several uniformed men passed them without a second glance and no one seemed particularly alert or on guard. Shepard had surreptitiously thumbed through several pages of her inbox, finding that both Hackett and Garrus (among others) had been trying to contact her with increasing frequency and urgency for quite sometime now. One of Garrus' last messages described him stumbling upon a blockade over the planet and engaging in a firefight with several batarian cruisers. Batarians. Jane thought with a shudder. Why was it always batarians?

She shared as much information as possible with Sidonis, trying to keep her tone light in front of the girls avoiding the use of the words 'gunfire' and 'explosions' and trying not to think about what was happening in the innocent, cloudless sky that lingered above them. It was at least one half hour before they reached their destination between their slow pace, maneuvering Sidonis' wheelchair over certain stairs and obstacles and traveling with a toddler. The main server room was located around the corner from where she had spoken to Hackett and Garrus over the comm. The comm room would be manned with a twenty-four hour shift crew but the server room should be empty and only visited for nightly checks, which according to Shepard's reckoning would not be due for another few hours at the change of shift.

Shepard's heart raced as they once again shimmied the door open and Sidonis disappeared into the server room. He had a plan for discretion, hoping that he could covertly trip the power to only those servers that would process his hacked code. But he couldn't guarantee it. As soon as the manned communication room experienced any kind of power dip, the operators would come to investigate. And then there would be trouble. Regardless of who was involved or on what side, tampering with this equipment would appear treasonous. Jane placed herself along the railing between the door to the manned comm room and the server room door that Sidonis was in.

The walk had calmed everyone's nerves and with the resiliency of youth, the girls had quickly settled back into their relaxed and playful manner, Gabby shimmied out of Shepard's arm and took hold of Alana's hand as the pair walked along the raised platform.

Shepard watched as the girls walked passed the door where Sidonis was. "No further than that corner," she called to them.

Gabby turned around toward her mother and scrunched the subdermal plates on her forehead. She pointed at Jane and said in the scolding tone of an old lady, "No! No, cornah!"

Jane narrowed her eyes at Gabby but Alana giggled and said, "Okay, Shepard," as she took Gabby's hand and diverted the child's attention by starting up a game of peek-a-boo from around the indicated corner.

Jane kept her head on a steady pivot between watching her six, the comm room and server doors and the girls playing at the corner. She put her finger to her ear, activated her short-wave comm and tried Miranda and then Oriana but got no reply. Everything was silent for a good ten minutes and Jane was beginning to get antsy. The longer they stood here, the better the chance they would run into a roaming patrol or worse.

Suddenly, her earpiece burst through with static before she heard, "Shepard?"

"Garrus," she breathed, looking up toward the clear sky as if she could see him. "What's going on up there?"

"We were attacked as soon as we arrived in-system," he said, his voice was clipped and steady. It sounded like it did when they were huddled up together behind some makeshift cover in a brief interlude of silence between enemy fire. "This is a godsdamn transport. We've got minimum shields and no firepower to speak of." There was a sound, like a clatter and then a brief silence. "This damn pilot deserves a medal. We've been playing hide and seek with these assholes for a few hours now, but we need you to get those shields down."

"I'm working on it," she said grimly as she looked toward the door where there was still no sign of Sidonis. She looked back up to the sky. "Garrus, I..." The words faded in her mouth, she didn't know what she wanted to say, there was just too much to convey and hearing his voice did things to her that made her world tilt.

"I love you, too, Shepard," Garrus replied flippantly, reading her perfectly over the comm. "But this isn't the time to get all mushy on me. How we coming with those guns?"

Shepard looked back toward the closed door and then toward Gabby who was laughing with that contagious, belly laugh that only a toddler seemed to be able to enjoy. "Nothing yet," she said smiling and then biting at her lip. She looked back up at the sky and squinted. "Batarians? Why? This doesn't make any sense."

“You know what really doesn’t make sense?”

The voice startled her. It was familiar but sounded different and had come from behind her, she cursed herself for becoming distracted. Turning her head slowly toward the sound, she was caught off-guard for a long minute. Mitchell was walking toward them, his face a picture of fury and a gun leveled in their direction.

"I think I gave up trying to make sense of it all the day I met you, Shepard. And it's batarians, c'mon. When have they ever made sense?" Garrus said teasingly in her comm, totally oblivious to what was happening to her below.

“Why?” Mitchell asked, his voice sounded pained. “Why didn’t The Illusive Man just kill you when he had the chance? Or, better yet, why did he even bring you back in the first place?”

"Shepard?" It was Garrus again.

Ignoring Garrus' hails, Jane turned her body so that she was between Mitchell and the girls playing behind her. “Mitchell,” she said calmly, lifting her arms up in a show of surrender. “Let’s just calm down for a minute, okay?”

“No,” he yelled, jabbing the point of his gun in her direction to emphasize his point. “No! You’re not gonna mind fuck me like you did Taylor and Lawson and the rest of 'em, you, you...turian-loving whore.”

“Shepard?” The shouts and profanities had caught the attention of the children and Alana's anxious voice called out to Jane from behind her.

She chanced a look back toward the children and saw Alana holding Gabby as they huddled up against the balustrade. Jane held her hand up toward Alana, signaling the girl to stay put while she slowly tracked her eyes back toward Mitchell and over her surroundings before meeting back up with his gaze. “What do you want?” She asked. There was nowhere to go, nothing to grab, distract with or jump behind. Besides, she had the kids standing behind her, the only thing she could do was stand her ground. There was no grabbing her gun so she started calculating how quickly she could charge up a singularity and hurl it at him.

"Shepard?" Garrus came over her comm again, his voice tinged with worry now.

“I want my life back,” Mitchell said, his voice cracked with emotion. “But that’s not gonna happen, so I’ll take yours instead. The great, fucking Commander Shepard. What have you done for humanity but rain down destruction upon us? You destroyed the one organization, the one man that had a vision for humanity other than being an alien bitch.” He spit the words at her and then he placed one hand over the other on his gun to steady his aim.

So he was a Cerberus fanatic. The only scary thing about him was how many more there were left in this universe like him. Zealots that shared The Illusive Man's vision of human domination at all costs and viewed anything else as submission and failure. She had experienced similar altercations and accusations back on Earth. Hell, this kind of thing had been happening to her in one way, shape or form, since Elysium. What some heralded as heroism, others saw differently. That would never change. She studied him. She could see in his face that he wasn’t bluffing, wasn’t trying to negotiate for some other end. Whatever had happened to him he was looking for payment, for some kind of redemption and she was his answer. She balled her hands into fists, readying her biotics to fling a singularity at him, she didn't think she could manage a shockwave, her biotics weren't at full capacity and she hadn't been practicing like she should've been, already her head was beginning to pound with an uncomfortable pressure.

“Gabby!” Alana's tortured scream came from behind her.

Shepard turned toward the screeching cry only to see Gabby teetering toward her on shaky legs, hands up and face scrunched up in fear and confusion.

"Shepard? Can you hear me? What's going on?" It was Garrus again and behind his words were the sounds of explosions and gunfire and she listened to it like a soundtrack as their child stumbled toward her.

“Fucking mutant.”

She heard the words as everything moved in slow motion. Gabby was crying and running toward her, Alana now trailing behind. She turned back to look at Mitchell in time to witness the slow arc of his pistol as he moved it steadily away from her and sighted it towards her daughter. In her peripheral vision she could see the blue sky darken with black masses of incoming ships pouring through the recently opened shield. She raised her hands and drew back a little, clenching her teeth from the pain. She could feel the connection of her disused implants and biotics arcing through her nervous system like an un-oiled engine sputtering to life.

The door to the server room started to open. She could see Sidonis' talons coming out of from behind the door.

"Shepard? Do you copy? We need those guns."

Jane's body was becoming warm, her heart-rate had skyrocketed and her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. She could do this. All she had to do was hit this guy with a singularity and watch with satisfaction as his feet lifted off of the duracrete and spun toward her. If this were the old days, if she were on the battlefield, Garrus would've already taken the shot and she would be turning her head back to look at him - to catch his eye in a silent thanks and nod of respect. But she was alone. She had been alone for too long. The tinny sound of explosions in her ear from Garrus' feed married with the thundering clap of anti-aircraft artillery fire booming in the distance. The explosions lit the scene up in horrific splendor and the heat and shockwave rocked her against the railing making her lose her balance.

"Mama!"

"Shepard?" Garrus' voice sounded desperate now.

Losing her focus and clinging to the the railing, she heard the sound of gunfire bark from Mitchell's gun. Saw him grasping onto the railing on the opposite side of her, having been rocked from the explosions himself. She turned to look at where his aim, now one-handed and shaky, had hit and she watched Sidonis slump and tumble forward and Alana and Gabby fall behind his empty wheelchair and disappear from her view.

Shepard, ever the diplomat, always wanting to save as many as possible, forever trusting her words first and violence as a last resort – saw red. Her biotics flared wildly eclipsing the harsh, orange heated light of the distant explosions. The inside of her brain buzzed as if a million bees were inside her skull. She heard herself shouting words having no idea of their form or content but a very clear idea of their meaning. Satisfyingly, at last, Mitchell lifted off of the ground his face contorted in shock and pain. She knew she could throw him from here, saw the gun slip out of his fingers and knew that he was of no more danger to her now. But that thought was overridden by whatever had awakened inside of her and she gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists and watched as a human being, suspended in the air in front of her – burst and dispersed into a million tiny particles, like a star going supernova.

Jane stood there for a long moment while pieces of flesh and a gore-ish hail of bone fragments and blood splattered against her face, arms and the duracrete landing where she stood. She was unsure of how it had happened and unsettled by the tremendous display of unleashed fury she had allowed to escape from herself. Then her body shuddered violently as her biotics sparked weakly and gradually fizzled away. She slumped down to the ground, falling against the banister behind her, her bones like jelly in her trembling limbs. The buzzing and pounding in her head had not subsided and blood trickled down her nose and out her ears. She looked up to the sky, saw incoming ships dancing around one another, some exploding mid-flight, others hurling to the ground and exploding on impact while still others skidded to inelegant landings.

She felt something at her legs and looked down to find Gabby crying and pulling at her, her little body covered in blood. Shepard pulled her towards her body with weak arms, patting her down and examining her roughly, relieved to find that her curdling screams were from terror and not any actual injury and that the blood covering her from head to toe did not appear to be her own.

She pressed the little girl against her chest and held her, flooded with relief. But that relief was short-lived. Coming more to her senses, she looked over to check on Sidonis and look for Alana. The turian had fallen from his chair and was huddled in a pile of limbs and talons on the ground in front of it. Jane struggled to get to her feet and, holding Gabby in her arms, she limped in his direction.

“No,” she gasped, as she fell to her knees against the bloodied wheelchair. Turian-blue blood was splattered on the empty seat and further, next to Sidonis’ motionless body was Alana’s, her red blood mixing in with the blue and swelling on the duracrete foundation into a ghastly puddle of purple.

Chapter Text

A Short Time Later

“Shhhh.”

Shepard emerged from the tiny bathroom and into the small hospital room and was greeted by Oriana shushing her.

“She just fell asleep,” Oriana supplied while rubbing her hand against Gabby’s back.

Jane walked over toward the hospital bed, her hospital bed. Because although Gabby was perfectly fine, if not a bit shook up, Miranda had insisted on admitting Shepard and submitting her to several scans and tests.

The planetary shield was back up while the small settlement regrouped. Miranda was doing her best to flush out those that were loyal to Mitchell and those that were…sane. The ships that had landed, including Garrus’, were being processed and allowed entry on a case-by-case basis. Jane had only agreed to hunkering down at the hospital when Miranda had promised to shuttle Garrus directly to her as soon as was possible.

She walked over to the hospital bed and took over from Oriana on stroking Gabby’s back while the child slept, albeit a tad fitfully.

“She’s dreaming, I think,” Oriana whispered.

Nightmares. Jane thought, feeling like a failure. Her entire goal in life, since Gabby had entered it, was to protect her from anything that might give her nightmares.

“Shepard.”

Miranda’s voice came from the door. Jane turned to her and was waved over impatiently by her former second-in-command.

Jane looked to Oriana. “I’ve got her,” the young woman assured her, placing her hand on Gabby’s back in place of Jane’s.

“Thank you.”

She joined Miranda in the hallway. “You look much better,” Miranda stated, taking in Jane’s change of clothes and the removal of all traces of blood and gore that had coated her upon her arrival.

“What is it?” She asked bluntly. There were so many things that she was waiting for a sitrep on that she had no patience for pleasantries.

“They’re both in surgery,” Miranda replied, unaffected by Jane’s bluntness and able to read her friend’s displeasure with such a vague report, she quickly added, “That’s all I know.”

“And the batarians? And whatever is left of Mitchell’s fanbase?”

“Still sorting things out but we’ve got control of communications and weaponry and the Alliance has reinforcements on the way,” she stated. “Hackett sends his regards, by the way, and I think we’ve connected a few preliminary dots between Mitchell and the batarians but it’s all speculation as of now.”

Jane nodded her head. The only thing left to ask about was Garrus. She already had confirmation that he had survived the firefight so now all there was to it was whatever excuse Miranda might have for it taking so long for her to get him here. The hospital was on lockdown but she was supposed to grease that process for-

“Shepard, I’m sorry,” Miranda blurted out.

Jane looked up at her questioningly. She looked pained and sincere. She wondered what was on her mind. Miranda wasn’t known for spontaneous eruptions of heartfelt apologies.

“I…hesitated,” she started. “Last night, for days now, you wanted to do more and I held you back and you paid the price for it. It just goes to show who deserves the rank of command and who doesn’t. There was a part of me that begrudged you the success we had on our mission against the Collectors. I told you that I admired you and that was not a lie, but deep within me I wondered, I suspected that we could’ve enjoyed the same success had we followed more of a structured plan and process. My process. And it seems that you’ve, you’ve proven me wrong yet again.”

“That’s not true.” Shepard didn’t know whether or not to feel good about that fact that she wasn’t the only one beating herself up over how they had handled the situation. “I hesitated, too. If I had wanted, truly wanted to charge in like usual, guns blazing, then I would have. You know that. We temper each other, Miranda. We don’t control each other. There’s a difference and it usually works. It’s just that…” She had been thinking about it. Beating herself up. Analyzing. “The cycle broke.”

“Yes, it did.”

“I’m not talking about the Reapers. I’m talking about my cycle. For years now, at the end of one battle my only thought and concern was to look for the next. And hell, it wasn’t that damn hard. But this time. Whether it was becoming a mother or the finality and enormity of what we accomplished against the Reapers or…maybe I’m just getting old.” She waited for a flippant comment from Miranda but none came. “I didn’t want to think about or look for the next battle. I knew, inherently I’m not a fool, I knew that defeating the Reapers wouldn’t change everything. That war will always be a constant in one way or another. But I. For just a little while. I wanted for Gabby to grow up in a place that…a place where I wouldn’t have to wear my armor or worry about a holdout pistol strapped on my back. I wanted to be as if… As if…" She didn't even know if she could say it. Hell, she knew how corny it sounded. But, hell. It was how she felt. So she sighed and said, "As if I had really made a difference.”

Miranda reached out and placed her hand on Jane’s shoulder. “You did make a difference, Commander.”

Shepard took the words and gesture for what they were but on the inside it didn’t feel as if she had. With Alana and Sidonis in surgery and fighting for their lives, with Gabby huddled in the next room having nightmares about the blood and violence that she had just been exposed to. It felt as if nothing had changed. She was just about to break away from Miranda and return to Gabby when a commotion coming from the double doors behind her made her turn toward the sound.

The doors swung open with a loud bang and a very focused and determined (and familiar) turian came crashing through with a very distressed human in a uniform chasing after him saying, “Sir, if you would just let me-”

He stopped walking. The human behind him stopped talking. Jane stopped breathing. The doors swished together violently. One pass. Two passes. Three passes. Until they settled together and closed again. And then time itself stopped moving.

His eyes, frantic and searching when he first entered, had landed right on her. Settled on her and stilled. He stared at her, unmoving, like he was sitting in his sniper perch. Patient. Waiting.

She didn’t say anything. Her mouth fell open. A breath bubbled up from her lungs, strangled up her throat and escaped out of her lips – tumbling out with a soft, barely audible sigh.

It was enough. Garrus broke out of his trance and walked towards her. A few long, purposeful strides. He seized her by the shoulders. The warmth from his touch and the pressure against her skin felt like heaven. He held her there, at arm’s length giving her a quick once over. She knew too well what he was searching for in his sniper’s glance. Cuts and abrasion: easy targets. New scars: inevitable. And since her rebuild had proven it was a possibility: the potential removal of old scars. The shade of her skin. The rate of her heartbeat. The curves or her body or lack of them. And then her eyes. Always finishing with her eyes. Searching for more there. Beyond the physical.

“Garrus,” she whispered breathily. She wanted to smile but couldn’t. Wanted to cry but wouldn’t.

She stepped towards him, further into his arms, pressed her cheek against his carapace and snaked her arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms around her, hesitant and tucked her head beneath his chin. “Shepard,” he purred quietly and she heard everything, as he had seen everything, laced intricately within those two syllables.

They stayed that way for quite some time and the whole universe seemed to hold its breath and wait for them. It was Garrus that moved first, gently pulling away from her but keeping his hands on her biceps and pushing her away just far enough so that he could look down at her. Once again, she watched his eyes wander over her, moving slowly over her entire body. She let his acute study of her go without comment and when his eyes finally traveled back up to her eyes, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Nobody told you?” She wasn’t sure all of what he knew. It had been so long and secrets hardly ever kept. And she still didn’t know exactly how to put into words what it was that she had to tell him. “I thought maybe, after all this time…”

“Told me what? Obviously, no. What’s wrong? Why are you here and not back on Earth? Hackett said you were on extended leave, I expected to find you…” His voice trailed off. It had been a long time. She had almost forgotten what he had given up for her on, what was for him, a blind request. When she didn’t say anything he continued, “Well,” he started and then looked around the room, back at her and then in her eyes again for some kind of answer. An explanation. Something that would make it so that he could show his face on his home planet again. He let out the turian equivalent of a sigh, which sounded a lot like a growl. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

It looked like he had expected her to have grown two heads. Or have a limb missing. Or be the unwilling bride of a derelict Reaper. “Garrus,” she started. The truth was always best, right? “I don’t know…where to start. I-”

“Mama!”

Gabrielle’s voice broke in almost as if on cue. Shepard froze for a moment, locking eyes with Garrus who obviously hadn’t associated the sound he just heard with the woman he was talking to. She turned her heard toward the voice coming from beside her. Gabby, quick as lightning, was upon her – tugging at her pant leg. She turned her body and started to lean over and pick Gabby up. She heard a series of chirrups come out of Garrus as his grip on her arms slowly released her from his grasp.

Oriana was not far behind. “Sorry, Commander.”

“It’s okay, Ori,” Shepard replied as she gave Gabby a quick kiss on her cheek and turned to look at Garrus.

It was silence all over again. Time standing still again. Oriana disappeared gradually to wherever it was that Miranda and the others had disappeared to the last time. Shepard looked back down to Gabby. The child was looking warily at Garrus, at first staring him down and then abruptly looking away, cooing nervously and tucking her head against her mother’s neck.

“Sh-Shepard,” Garrus stuttered, staggering a step back and away from her as if he had been gently pushed.

“Weren’t you the one telling me that I always had to outdo myself?” Shepard replied cheekily with a nervous smile. “So…meet our turian-human hybrid baby. Ta-da?” She was nervous. He looked a bit like he had been concussed.

Garrus’ mouth fell open and his mandibles flared open and shut randomly. A few clucks were emanating from his throat but even as his jaw began to move up and down a few times, no discernible sound was coming out.

“Yeah, I imagined it going something like this," she started, trying to keep the tone light, "…in my nightmares.” She was trying to appear undaunted but she was more than just a little anxious about his reaction. Can turians have heart attacks? She wondered. “She’s yours, Garrus,” she said softly, abandoning all levity as she patted the child’s back while she spoke. “Ours.”

He still did not say anything although his eyes were trained on Gabby as if she were a bomb about to explode.

“She’s usually not this shy. Not shy at all, really,” Shepard said, trying to twist her daughter around so that Garrus could see her. Gabrielle trilled and clung more tightly to her mother, arms tightly around her neck and legs wrapping in a death grip around her waist.

“Mine?” Garrus finally whispered as he took another step backwards, the single word coming out in the highest pitched vocal Shepard had ever heard from him.

“Yes,” Shepard replied, set severely off balance by his reaction now.

Maybe turians were different when it came to finding out they had surprise babies. Not that humans were the best at handling it, but Garrus looked kind of skeptical, like he had just been told that the Widow wasn't the best sniper rifle ever made and then also kind of freaked out, as if someone had suggested that new engines on ships should be built so that they could no longer be manually calibrated and then there was a small, yet noticeable dash of pure fear, as if someone had just told him he had a surprise human-turian baby and his father was standing right behind him.

She hitched Gabrielle up in her arms a little bit, wrapping her free arm around the child’s back protectively. “Are-are you alright? Is this a problem?”

“A-a problem?” Garrus echoed, his voice still high and shrill. “Spirits, Shepard. No. No, this is-” He shook his head and ran his hand over his fringe.

At least he was moving his limbs around a little and putting sounds together to form words. That was good, right? Progress.

He looked around the hospital room again, like maybe he was searching for a hidden camera and for Joker to come wheeling out from somewhere laughing. But then he drew in a deep breath and returned his gaze to meet Shepard’s eyes again. And they settled there again. Stilled.

She smiled at him, saying nothing and then nodded her head in encouragement. He could do this. He could walk into this new reality with her. She was giving him the strength to accept what he was thinking was clearly impossible for him to believe, to achieve. To deserve. She knew, because she had been there before him.

He took another long breath in, grounding himself to her and then he tore his gaze away and moved to look at the child in her arms, taking in her tiny body snuggled up against Shepard’s chest. He held his hand out to touch her but then withdrew. “Is she…?” His laser-focused gaze was trained on Gabrielle and Shepard could almost hear his brain trying to puzzle everything out. “Is she scared of me?”

Jane laughed, hitching Gabby up a little and trying to loosen her grip again but to no avail. “Scared? No,” she replied definitively. “She was standing toe-to-toe against Wrex at two weeks old.” Shepard craned her neck back to try and get a look into Gabby’s eyes but the baby would have none of it. Looking back to Garrus, she added, “I don’t think there’s a cowardly bone in her body.”

Garrus just looked at her, obviously unsure what to do or what to say.

Jane remembered how Gabby had taken so easily to Sidonis. But in that instance, she had been reacting to a pleased and welcoming turian. “I think she might be nervous,” Shepard whispered, looking around. “She knew you were coming. And…well, I guess she might be…”

Jane didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t talk as if Gabby wouldn’t understand what she was saying, because the sharp-witted child most certainly would. But what Shepard feared was that Gabby had sensed her father’s shock and…whatever it was that he was emanating right now, all those things that Shepard herself had catalogued and felt from him even without the benefit of turian physiology. The child probably feared that her father was unhappy with her.

She turned her head and kissed Gabby’s cheek. She couldn’t help him much further, with this – his final leap. He would have to figure it out on his own. But she prayed that he would get a clue, here. And some deep part of her knew that he would. He was her Garrus, after all.

True to form, he at least seemed to understand that there was something Shepard wanted to say but couldn’t. Something that he was missing. He shuffled on his feet a bit and then with a short clearing of his throat he asked, “Uh, what’s her name?”

“Gabrielle,” Shepard replied. “We call her Gabby.”

“Gabrielle,” Garrus repeated, wrapping the word around his tongue.

Jane had thought about giving their daughter a turian name, but Garrus was getting the last name so she went ahead and went with a human name, her grandmother’s, for her first. “I hope it’s alright, I-”

“It’s beautiful, Shepard,” he whispered, reaching out and this time touching the backs of his fingers to the child’s back. “She’s beautiful.” There was a repeat of the quiet clucks coming from his throat but they were softer now and transforming into an almost purr.

Gabby stirred and made a small trilling sound against her mother’s neck and Garrus’ mandibles flared and the plates on his nostril and forehead shifted. That long-awaited connection and communication seemed to be struggling to start between them and Shepard’s heart swelled a little. That’s the way, big guy. You got this.

“Gabrielle?” Garrus said again, this time directing his voice to the child.

The baby shifted in her mother’s arms and turned just barely enough so that one of her eyes could look at the turian standing by her.

“Can…,” Garrus hesitated, working through the right thing, the right words to say. He looked at Shepard. “What’s the human word for father?”

“Father?” Shepard replied, smiling. He was getting there, getting close – it didn’t hurt to loosen him up a little.

“You know what I mean. You people always have another word that’s more…culturally acceptable.”

An entire sentence? Two of them! “You people?” She said, keeping it up. She could almost see his shoulders relaxing. “Really, Garrus-”

“Jane…”

“Daddy,” she replied quickly seeing that his patience was a bit worn thin. “Daddy…would work just fine.”

He looked back to Gabby and clapped his hands together and then held them out invitingly. That gesture seemed to translate in any language. “Can Daddy hold you?”

Gabby’s own nostril and forehead plates shifted at the question and she warily lifted her head up to look questioningly at her mother.

“It’s okay,” Jane encouraged her. “This is your Daddy. Remember? We’ve been waiting for him.”

Gabby loosened her grip from around her mother’s neck and straightened up in her arms. She leveled her gaze to the male standing across from her and studied him for a long moment. Garrus, for his part, held steady and strong under the intense scrutiny. The pair shared a few trills, conversating with their subharmonics in a way that Shepard couldn’t understand. But she could see her child visibly relaxing. See Garrus’ entire being accepting the new reality that just moments ago had almost left him a dribbling puddle of carapace on the hospital floor.

Gabby then held her hand out, four chubby fingers reaching out for three. Shepard’s heart nearly exploded.

Garrus took her hand in his, looking down at it and rubbing his thumb along her fingers. He then looked up to his daughter, crystal blue eyes meeting crystal blue eyes and then he held his other hand out and gestured again for the child to come to him. With only a slight hesitation, Gabby leaned her weight toward Garrus and was subsequently (and gently) taken into his arms.

Garrus brought the baby up to his shoulder, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against her neck and breathe in the scent of her. He looked over to Jane who stood with her hands over her mouth and tears threatening at the corner of her eyes. “I never imagined…,” he whispered.

He looked overwhelmed, again. But this time in a good way. He had been transformed right in front of her eyes, from the determined turian that had waltzed through those double doors into what stood before her now. A father. It was a long journey, no matter how quickly he had made it and he was definitely changed by the end of it. In a perfect way.

He breathed her in again and held her tighter. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, looking at Shepard with awe and admiration like she had never seen before. “She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Gabby held her head up and looked at her father. The pair chirruped and hummed together as she patted her hand against his forehead and then along his mandible. Garrus flared it out, startling her and making her squeal with delight. She then curled three fingers into her fist and with her one pointer finger she touched both of his eyes (while Garrus dutifully closed them) and then tugged and yanked a little on his visor.

“Easy there,” Garrus chided, tugging his visor back into place.

Gabby banged her hands down onto her knees. “Da,” she said as if testing the sound in her mouth.

“Yes?” Garrus encouraged her.

She placed her hand on his chin, curling her fingers against the hard edges of his mouth. “Dada.”

It was a day of firsts and it completed the circle, so to speak. There wasn’t much more that could be said about Garrus’ reaction to Gabby’s proclamation. Only that if he swelled up any more with adoration and pride, Jane was worried that he just might burst. They ended up, all three of them, in another time-standing still moment after Garrus pulled Jane up against him and for the first time, another first, the new little family crushed one another in a happy hug.

Jane reveled in the feeling of being in Garrus’ arms again. After a long while, she curled her fingers along his cowl and tugged him down toward her. She nuzzled her mouth along his neck and peppered kisses across his mandible. It wasn’t long before she thought of something she hadn’t let herself think about in a long while: how wonderful it had been when they had created Gabby.

He seemed to be on the same wavelength as she, of course. He tilted his head down toward her and kissed her – hungrily. Beneath her fingers and against her chest, she could feel the familiar rumble that signaled his desire for her. The rumble escalated to a naughty growl and then tampered down into a purr as he pulled away from her – reluctantly, with Gabby’s little fist tugging on his mandible.

They laughed. Laughed a good belly laugh that usually only toddlers have any capacity to enjoy. The baby laughed with them, not knowing what was funny but joining in just the same. Or maybe she did know. Maybe she could sense the elation, the relief. The pure joy emanating from the two people that she was wired to emulate her life after. They kissed again, haphazardly as is the only way possible while human lips are curled in happy smiles and a turian mandible is being manhandled by a human-turian toddler.

Slowly they began to end the kiss. She reversed her previous path starting with closed mouth kisses on his firm lips, peppering light kisses against his mandible and finishing with nuzzling her mouth against his neck. When she drew away he bent his head down to her and pressed his forehead to hers. She reached up, scraped her fingers along the sensitive skin under his fringe and held him against her for a long while.

“Garrus?” She asked, looking up to him.

“Shepard?”

“Brrrzzzzzt,” Gabby chimed in and used her hand to push her mother away from her new play toy.

Jane pulled away from him but remained cuddled against his carapace. “What’s the turian word for father?”

He paused for a moment. She imagined he was trying to fit it into the phonetics that was the basic language. “Taica,” he said. “Informally we shorten it to: tai. Although my father never went for that.”

“Tah-ee,” Shepard said, trying the word out in her mouth.

“And you,” he whispered, placing the palm of his hand against her cheek. “You would be: kantaaiti. Or aaiti, or simply: ti, for short.”

“Was your mother an…ee-ah-tay?”

Garrus paused and his mandibles flared in a turian smile. “Yes, she was.”

“Are you…a tah-ee?”

“Yes,” he said, pressing his forehead down to hers again. “You made me one.”

“Shepard.”

And of course, it couldn’t last. They both turned their heads towards the sound of her name.

“I apologize, truly. But...” Miranda looked at Garrus and then back to Shepard, lowering her voice but of course not low enough to where Garrus couldn’t hear. “It’s Sidonis.”

“Sidonis?” The move was quick, even for him. He stepped out of her embrace, turned and moved Gabby from his left side which was then closer to Shepard to his right, in what certainly looked to be some kind of protective measure.

Shepard's mouth fell open in a gape. The move had been so swift and he had done it so deftly, almost certainly instinctively and she bristled at the implication. “Garrus-”

He looked down at her, fire flashed behind his blue eyes. “Sidonis is here?"

“Donis!” Gabby chirped in, certainly not helping the situation.

Jane bit her lip, looked from Gabby to Garrus and said, “Yes, he’s…it’s complicated.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Miranda snapped impatiently. “He’s asking for you.”

“Okay,” Shepard said, looking at Garrus with a silent plea in her eyes and then looking down and away. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

“No,” Miranda said. “Not you. He’s asking for him.”

Chapter Text

Garrus stared at Miranda as if he hadn’t understood her.

“Garrus,” Jane said, placing her hand on his forearm.

He looked down at her. His face was closed off, mandibles in tight. “I’m listening.”

She shook her head, acutely aware that he most certainly was not predisposed to listen to anything that she had to say. She sighed. “Miranda? Will you take Gabby, please?”

Miranda stepped forward but had the wherewithal not to try and take Gabby from Garrus but instead waited with obvious impatience for him to nuzzle and chirp at his daughter before he reluctantly handed the baby over. With Gabby in her arms, Miranda leveled a look at the two adults in front of her, staring at each other in some sort of ridiculous standoff. “We really don’t have time for this,” she stated adamantly and when they turned to her and she had both of their attentions she held her arm out in the direction of the double doors and said, “You can talk along the way.”

They walked for a little while, heading through the double doors and passed a crowded nurse’s station. “I can’t tell you enough how much he’s done,” Shepard started, as they walked along a long corridor. “He’s been doing nothing but trying to make it up to you since we left him on the Citadel. He helped a little girl after she had lost her entire family. That’s how he ended up here.”

“One girl, huh?” He replied in a facetious tone.

“You know, Shepard,” Miranda offered. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you may want to move on to the more…pertinent things that Sidonis has done.”

Jane glared at the back of Miranda’s head as they continued walking. She purposefully slowed down to distance themselves from her and the baby in her arms.

“Still listening, Shepard,” Garrus supplied, flatly.

“He saved my life,” she said. “There was an attack. Before today’s. And he threw himself into the crossfire. Covered my body with his own. My unarmored body. He was severely wounded.”

“Why were you unarmored?”

“Not the point, Garrus.”

“He saved your life," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I’m thankful for that. But it’s not enough. I let him live. That was enough.”

She dug in her heels and grabbed his arm again. “Would you stop for a second?”

They stopped walking. Miranda looked back and switched Gabby from one hip to another but didn’t say anything. Jane and Garrus stared at each other. Gabby trilled questioningly.

“I’m stopped,” he said.

She shook her head. “I almost don’t even want to talk to you right now and that…that scares me.” She knew what she wanted to say, to convey. What had to be said. But there was a cadence, an order to her delivery. So she started again, “He saved Gabby’s life. One life.” She held one finger up in front of him to emphasize her point. “Our daughter’s. She needed a bone marrow transplant. A turian bone marrow transplant, if she was ever going to be able to walk or live without a constant risk of being paralyzed, or worse. And he volunteered. It left him a cripple." Garrus still appeared unmoved. She continued. "And he saved your ass, too. He brought the shields down today and got those guns on line and I want…” She stopped, held her arm out and pointed towards where Miranda stood. “I want you to go in there and see him and give him the forgiveness that he’s looking for. But not because of any of what I just told you. None of that is why I want you to do this.”

“Then what is it?” He growled.

“He made me,” she hesitated. “Talking to him. Seeing him throw his life away waiting for forgiveness from you." She shook her head. "Some of the things he said, they-”

Miranda called down the hallway, “Shepard-”

Garrus raised his hand toward Miranda and cut her off. He was looking down at Jane intently, a wild fire burning in his eyes. He was listening now. “They what? What did he make you do?” He asked, his tone menacing.

She lifted her chin up to provide him a full view of her face as she said the words. “He made me doubt you.”

She hoped her words would hit their target and she was not disappointed. His faced blanched, at least it did the turian version of blanching and a pained thrum resonated at the back of his throat.

She continued. “He made me wonder if Omega really had changed you. Because I knew my Garrus wouldn’t carry around a hatred like that.” He was watching her, stunned into silence. She knew what was going through his mind, what his arguments would be. She didn't need his participation in this conversation to get her point across. “That’s not justice, Garrus, any more than putting a bullet in his brain would’ve been justice. I thought we left this behind us when we walked away from him on the Citadel. But if you insist on continuing to withhold his forgiveness inside of yourself, than you’re no better than he is: throwing his life away waiting for it.” The words hurt. She could see that they were hurting him and they were hurting her to say them. But they needed to be said. And she wasn’t done. “It’s a waste,” she continued, “All of it. Because no, you didn't do it: what Sidonis did. But you continue to breathe life into it. You continue to refuse to let it go. And in the end, if that's how you want it to go, then you both deserve to lie in the hell that he made.”

He stared at her, his face no longer blank or impassive but something else entirely. Something entirely opposite from blank and impassive. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her for awhile, his emotions laid bare in his expression and the sounds that he was making. She regretted her words, or regretted having to same them at least. They were harsh, but Garrus was hard-headed, anything but harsh would'nt've gotten through. He had proven that.

He said nothing. Finally, slowly, he turned away from her and walked towards Miranda. He made a chirrup sound that Gabby answered with a melodic trill. He put his forehead against Gabby’s and breathed in deeply. He then looked to Miranda and asked, “Where’s his room?”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Garrus walked into the room, turned around and shut the door behind him. He pressed his hand against the cool metal of the door reflecting on the words that Jane had just spoken. The story that they told. For a turian, their story, their legacy, was everything. And Shepard was right, as she so often was. This was not the story he wanted written about him. What happened on Omega was already a part of it, a part of him, but what he did afterwards, what he did now, still remained to be written.

He turned toward the hospital bed and walked over to it. Sidonis was lying there with tubes and monitors attached all over him. There was a steady hiss and sigh of a machine that appeared to be breathing for him. The young turian’s eyes were closed. Garrus wondered if he had gotten there too late.

“Sidonis?”

There was no response. Not even a blip on one of his monitors.

“It’s Garrus. I’m here.”

Nothing.

Garrus looked around the room. Looked over the body of the turian lying in front of him. Thought about Shepard’s words again and swallowed.

Closing his eyes, he saw them all together. His squad. He heard their laughter. Remembered their jokes, their heated words, bloody battles and burnt meals. He remembered their successes and elation, their failures and frustration. He remembered...the blood. Remembered holding Weaver as she died in his arms. Remembered the hatred that crawled up inside of him and completely suffused his entire being. The vengeance that drove him. The loss and failure that consumed him.

He remembered it all.

Breathed it all in.

All of it, for all that it was worth.

For all that he was worth.

“Erash, Monteague, Mierin,” Garrus began reciting the names of his former squad, ignoring the flanging whine warping each syllable with his agony. “Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler,” he stopped. “And,” he hesitated. “Damnit.” He opened his eyes and raised them up to the ceiling. “And,” he struggled again. “Damn you,” he looked back down to Sidonis’ inert form and gripped the metal railings of his hospital bed, curling his talons around them until it hurt. “And…Weaver,” he finally managed to get it out.

Sidonis lay there. His machine sighed and hissed. Garrus closed his eyes again. When he opened them, he saw them all standing there. Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, and Weaver. They gave him a nod, each one in turn and he whined, a slow, loud, agonizing peal of anguish that reverberated through his flanging vocal chords and echoed against the four walls of the hospital room. Turians don't cry, but he keened and wailed and gave voice to his pain, his guilt and his shame. And then they began to fade away. Each one of them. Along with the sound of his cries.

When he looked back down at Sidonis they were alone again, the two of them, in the silence. They were all that was left of the spirit of his crew. Inextricably bonded together through their once common purpose. Through their once cohesive squad. And they were both broken.

For turians, there is a shame in failure. But there is no failure without action. And every turian is compelled to duty, compelled to act – so it is known that there will always be failure and there will always be shame. But that shame could be overcome. The only shame that could not be overcome was in the failure to act. The failure to serve. The failure to do one’s duty. As a leader, Garrus had an obligation to his squad. He owned their victories, and avenged their defeats. And he wore their dishonor as his own.

Shepard's words had been right. They had been so on target that the sniper in him had to admire their economy and precision. They had held a mirror up to his face and he had been terrified at what he saw in its reflection. And she had been right to damn them to the same fate, he and Sidonis, as hard as that was to hear. For it wasn’t forgiving Sidonis that he found so hard to do. It was the forgiveness that it would grant himself that had him torn to pieces inside. A forgiveness that he wouldn't let himself believe that he deserved. He could see now that if he had killed Sidonis on the Citadel that he would not have attained the closure that he so desired. And now, he knew that withholding his forgiveness would continue to reap the same empty rewards.

He had abandoned his duty as a leader and it was time to set it right.

Garrus turned his translator off so that his words would be in his native tongue. “Sidonis,” he began and even though there was no discernible reaction, he continued, “I recognize your actions both good and ill. I acknowledge your repentance. I do not offer you honor, yet I relinquish that right to the spirits. Let them judge you for what’s been done for I shall no more. I grant you what is in my rights to give you. I grant you salvation. In my eyes. And in the eyes of our unit. May you move on to the next place and may you find peace and sense of purpose. But most of all, may you find acceptance. May you become one with the all.”

And with his words, Garrus let it all go. The shame and the sorrow. The hatred and guilt. The pain and the blame. He keened again, this time low and mournful as he recited his squad's names in a whisper, "Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver...and Sidonis."

The breathing machine hissed and sighed.

An alarm began to sound.

The steady beep of Sidonis’ monitors began to grow erratic and rapid.

“Sidonis?” Garrus grabbed the turian’s hand and watched his face. He looked for movement. Looked for his eyes to open. He saw nothing. Nothing at all.

The pace of the beeping grew more and more rapid until it was one steady drone. The alarm whined on, joined by others. The door to the room was opened. Nurses filed in. They were talking. Garrus couldn’t understand them. He had his translator off. He wasn’t listening anyway.

They worked on the young turian. Someone grabbed Garrus’ arm and tried to move him but he growled and then everyone left him alone.

The alarms stopped blaring.

The beeps stopped whining.

The hiss and moan of the breathing machine fell silent.

The room was left empty.

Sidonis’ hand cooled against Garrus’ palm.

They were alone for a long time.

He heard the door. Heard the footsteps tentatively approaching him. Felt a gentle touch against his cowl. He heard the sound of a voice, recognized its familiar timbre and even though he couldn’t understand the words, he knew their meaning. Turning to look at her, he switched his translator back on with a movement of his eye.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

He looked at her empty arms. “Where’s the baby?”

“Miranda’s got her. She’s right outside.”

He watched as Jane’s gaze fell down to Sidonis. She looked at the dead turian in silence for a long time and then she placed her hand on top of Garrus’.

He looked at that, too. For a long time. Her hand on his. And then he let go of Sidonis and drew his hand away, taking hers with it.

They looked at each other. She twisted her hand around so that she could hold onto him. “I’m sorry,” she said.

It wasn’t obvious whether or not she was expressing a condolence for Sidonis or an apology for her previous words. He nodded his head, accepting the former and not requiring the latter. She had been right. It hurt, but what she said had needed to be said. He could admit that now, admit that he hadn't been able to see the truth prior to hearing them. He would thank her for them. One day, when he could find the right words for it.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Garrus nodded his head slowly.

And they left.

Chapter Text

Two Years Later

“And the batarians?” Jane asked.

“As angry as ever,” Miranda answered. She was a shimmering image on Jane’s household vidcom. It dominated an entire wall of her home office. Garrus lovingly called it her ‘warroom’.

“And you’re sure you’ve gotten to the bottom of their funds?”

Miranda nodded her head. “Absolutely. I have cutoff the serpent’s head, have no doubt.”

The attack all those years ago on Sanctuary had lead them on a long and lengthy wild goose chase for a hidden cache of Cerberus funds and a secret failsafe plan of The Illusive Man’s that was as impressive as it was ridiculous. He really had gone off the deep end in the end. But once again the universe had proven that there was no shortage of fanatics waiting in the deep end to execute maniacal plans.

“Good work,” Jane said.

”Shepard, you know this doesn’t end anything with the batarians,”” she said pointedly. She shrugged and sighed. “Probably not with Cerberus, either. Or with unsanctioned splinter groups with their own funding and agendas utilizing the Cerberus name, anyway.”

“I’m aware.”

The link to the batarians was as simple as it was frightening. They had accepted payment, an alarmingly small payment, for the attack on Sanctuary, with the promise of getting Commander Shepard – alive. She would never walk any streets without a backup weapon and some semblance of armor – that hadn’t changed. She had accepted that. But things had gotten better and she had been a big part of that – and that, she accepted.

“Talk to you next week then?”

“You bet.”

Jane only took a small moment to regroup herself and move on to her next meeting. She looked around the room and moved a few of the smaller pieces of furniture around before calling out, “Gabby! You ready?”

The door immediately burst open and Gabrielle Vakarian skipped in. “I’ve been waiting,” she said with a big grin on her face. “Just like you told me. Patience. Patience. Patience.”

“Yes,” Jane replied, smiling. “I can see that. Good job and thank you.”

Jane turned toward the vidcom console and pressed a few buttons. The blue screen crackled back to life and a new, familiar face came to view.

“Auntie Jack!” Gabby squealed. “I’ve been working on throw, just like you showed me.”

Jack crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. She wore an actual shirt that covered most of her midsection but it was sleeveless and had a low enough cut that one could still appreciate the artwork of her tattoos. “Is that right,” she said, her voice laced in skepticism. “Well then,” she added, turning one of her fingers around in a sign of hurrying things along, “let me see what you got, squirt.”

Gabby looked up to her mother and Jane gave her a smile and a permissive nod. She said, “Use that pillow over there, the smaller one on the sofa and take care with your aim.”

“I know,” Gabby replied quickly. “Line of fire. Path and landing.”

“Finally!” Jack groused over the vidcom. “She remembers something.”

Gabby looked at Jack on the vidcom, pulling a face.

“Go on,” Jack replied with impatience. “Did I stutter?”

Gabby looked back towards the pillow that her mother had indicated and then around the whole of the room. As she returned to the pillow, she bit her upper lip in concentration. Holding out her hands, they began to light up with a blueish glow. The pillow lifted, Gabby’s hands slashed through the air from left to right. The pillow mimicked the path that her hands drew, flying across the room and landing perfectly into an empty chair against the far wall.

Gabby heaved a contented sigh with a broad smile across her face as she looked first at her mother and then over to Jack on the screen.

Jane smiled.

Jack said, “What?” And her face was fixed in an unimpressed mien. “That’s it? You throw like a kindergartner!”

Gabby placed her hands upon her hips, undeterred by the lack of praise from her tutor. “I am a kindergartner,” she replied. Turians matured quicker than humans and Gabby was well beyond a normal human kindergartner. But she was technically in kindergarten.

“That’s not an excuse,” Jack replied seriously. “No one’s gonna give you a free pass for how old you are, or small you are or different.” She stepped closer to the vidcom until her face dominated the screen. She was pointing at Gabby as she asked, “What do we use throw for?”

The smile disappeared from Gabby’s face. “For advantage. Surprise. To… immobilize,” she had to take her time to enunciate the word carefully. “Or stun. To allow time for another attack or escape.”

Jane’s smile had faded as well. She had approved of her daughter’s training with Jack. Even approved of Jack’s firm hand and methods. Gabby Vakarian wasn’t one of Commander Shepard’s crew. She was her baby daughter and although she parented with consistency and boundaries and with a firmness of her own, she also coddled and loved her daughter. Gabby needed both. She needed to learn how to defend herself and fight, if necessary. Because of the universe being what it would always be. And because of who she was.

“You’re damn right,” Jack replied. “And who do you think you were gonna stun or immobilize with that throw? Huh?”

Gabby shook her head. “No one.”

“Don’t do it,” Jack said, pointing again. “Unless you mean it. If you ain’t got it. If there’s nothing around that you can handle. There ain’t no shame in turning tail and running. Right?”

Gabby nodded. “Right.”

Jack lifted her chin and stepped back away from the screen a little. “Let me see it again.”

Gabby looked at Jane again.

Jane nodded her approval again.

Gabby looked over to the pillow and raised her arms. She glanced at the sofa from where it had originally come from. Her hands sizzled with blue light and she slashed them across the room from right to left, following through as if hitting a home run.

The pillow zoomed across the room in a blur, hit the opposite wall above the sofa and burst at its seams in a explosion of fabric and material.

“Hell, yeah,” Jack yelled, clapping her hands and hooting. “Now that’s what the fuh, fuh-light path I’m talking about.”

Jane, smiling, narrowed her eyes in amusement at Jack and mouthed the words ‘thank you’.

Jack lifted her chin and her shoulders in a dismissive gesture and winked.

Gabby had immediately brought her hands up to her mouth and covered it, looking to her mother for a reaction to her destruction.

“It’s okay,” Jane said. “That was good. But do you think you can control that? Give me something that is in between? Take another pillow and…” She looked around the room. “And knock that statue over but not damage the pillow?”

Jane and Gabby both looked at Jack. Jack nodded her head in agreement.

Gabby looked back to the sofa and set her eyes on another pillow. She repeated the motion. This time her hands cut through the air harder than the first time but softer than the last. The pillow hit its intended target, the statue. The object rocked but the impact had not been enough for it to topple over. Gabby placed her hands on her hips and huffed. “Damn.”

“Uh, language?” Jane corrected, looking first at Gabby and then over to Jack.

Jack held her hands up in surrender and said, “You’re killing me as it, Shepard. A girl’s gotta keep a few vices. That wasn’t bad, squirt,” she said to Gabby.

“Not bad at all,” Jane joined in, bringing the child up under her arm into a hug. “You have to be able to control your movements. Sometimes throw can be used to save someone. Maybe move them out of harm’s way and you don’t want them to crash against the wall and burst after trying to save them, right?”

Gabby shook her head. “Right.”

“Overall a good display,” Jack added. “You keep working on that, and I’ll see you next week.”

After Jack disappeared and the vidcom shut down once again. Jane hugged Gabby to her one more time and asked, “Ready for a snack?” No one knew better than Jane how hungry using biotics could make a person. Besides, it was the end of the day. She had no more meetings and she expected Garrus home soon.

Gabby nodded and replied, “Yes!”

Later that evening…

It was dinner time. Garrus was home and in the kitchen preparing a meal. He had Gabby playing sous chef, fetching things for him and mixing things up. Jane sat at a barstool on the counter watching them.

The home intercom chimed, alerting a visitor. Jane moved to answer it but was stopped with a look from her husband.

He tossed the towel that he had in his hands onto the countertop and said, “I’ll get it.”

Jane made a face but didn’t bother to argue. Garrus liked to be the shield between his family and the outside world. Everyone wanted Commander Shepard for good and for the not good. This saved her the trouble of turning away pitiful faces (which she wasn’t very good at) or enduring nasty sneers (not good at either). Garrus didn’t give a damn and treated both with equal disdain, especially when they interrupted dinner. The dynamic worked for them.

He walked to the far wall of their kitchen and pressed the button for the display screen. The figure of a young man looking up to the camera came into view. He was holding something in his hands and his face was open and eager as he shifted from foot to foot in a nervous way. Overall he was a typical-looking visitor, leaning toward the harmless good kind just looking for a favor.

Garrus pressed the intercom button and growled, “We don’t need any.” And then he flipped the switch off sending the monitor back into blackness.

“Garrus!” Jane scolded, having watched the display.

“That’s Mikah,” Gabby chimed in. “He’s Alana’s boyfriend,” she said in a sing-songy voice.

The ends of Garrus’ fringe separated and raised like the hair on the back of a cat. “He’s what-now?” He said looking from Gabby to Jane.

Jane stood. “Your daughter’s friend. Who is a boy,” she said calmly as she walked towards him.

Garrus flipped the switch back on the monitor. The boy was still standing there rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. Garrus looked closer. He had flowers in his hands. A growl rolled up from his belly. “A friend,” he repeated slowly. “That’s a boy.” He looked over to Jane. “That sounds suspiciously like a boyfriend.”

Gabby giggled.

Jane smiled at him, running her hand along his cowl. “Stop growling. She’s seventeen. We’ve talked about this.”

“In theory,” he yelped back. “Academically. Not in actual practice.”

“Uh,” the young man ventured a word. He couldn’t hear what was being said without Garrus pressing another button but he could see them on his monitor. “Is Alana at home?”

Garrus peered closer at the monitor and then drew back. “I don’t like the looks of him.”

Jane shook her head.

Alana came into the room wearing a dress with her hair pulled up. She had grown into a lovely young woman and Shepard thought she looked beautiful.

Garrus surveyed her from head to toe. It looked like he thought she looked beautiful, too. But his reaction differed from Jane's. “Uh, where’s my gun?” He said quickly and eerily calmly. “The small one, with the silencer?”

Gabby giggled again. “I know,” she answered helpfully. “Want me to get it?”

“No,” Jane answered.

“Tai!” Alana scolded her adoptive, crazy, turian father.

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Mikah was eventually let into the house and eventually granted permission to take Alana out with him to the movie theatre along the strip. Garrus grilled the boy with all the usual questions of both human and turian tradition. Overall, Jane thought that he handled it well.

Later that evening, once Gabby and Alana both were home and in their beds, Jane snuggled up to her turian husband in their own large bed and chuckled. “You really have been watching entirely too much classic human videos. I have a gun and a shovel? Really?”

Garrus made a clicking noise in the back of his throat. “I thought it was apt.”

“And where were you going to bury him? Under the stairs? There’s no dirt on the Citadel. Anywhere.”

He shrugged. “Technicalities. I would’ve improvised.”

She kissed him on the mandible. “You’re a good Taica,” she whispered. And then laying back onto her pillow she sighed and said, “And that was really good practice for you with Gabby one day.”

Garrus wasn’t a biotic, so technically he couldn’t do it, but the air seemed to crackle with dark energy at her words. “Gabby will never bring home a boy. Friend. Or no friend,” he said between gritted teeth.

“Oh,” Jane replied, feigning seriousness. “You’re right. No, never. What was I thinking?”

He turned on her, swiftly covering her body with his own and nuzzling his nose against her neck and breathing her in. “You’re teasing me,” he growled and pulled back to look her in the eyes, “I don’t like to be teased.”

She placed her palm on the side of his face. “You know it’s going happen,” she said gently. “Eventually.”

He watched her for awhile and sighed in his turian way which was more like a purr. “I know,” he admitted. “But I’m not ready to think about that yet. Theoretically. Academically or otherwise.”

Jane knew they had time. A little time. Because it would go by too fast. But she could never resist humoring him, if it was in her power to do so. “Then we don’t need to think about,” she whispered and lowered her voice to a lusty tenor. “Theoretically,” she offered, while kissing his lips. “Academically,” she said, upon licking at the end of his mandible, which rewarded her with a purr of an altogether different kind. “Or otherwise,” she whispered against his ear as she began to nuzzle at the sensitive skin along his neck.

He growled at her and ran his hand up her side and forgot about what they had been talking about for a good long, enjoyable time.

And, of course, they all lived happily ever after...

The END.

Chapter Text

Garrus stared at Miranda as if he hadn’t understood her.

“Garrus,” Jane said, placing her hand on his forearm.

He looked down at her. His face was closed off, mandibles in tight. “I’m listening.”

She shook her head, acutely aware that he most certainly was not predisposed to listen to anything that she had to say. She sighed. “Miranda? Will you take Gabby, please?”

Miranda stepped forward but had the wherewithal not to try and take Gabby from Garrus but instead waited with obvious impatience for him to nuzzle and chirp at his daughter before he reluctantly handed the baby over. With Gabby in her arms, Miranda leveled a look at the two adults in front of her, staring at each other in some sort of ridiculous standoff. “We really don’t have time for this,” she stated adamantly and when they turned to her and she had both of their attentions she held her arm out in the direction of the double doors and said, “You can talk along the way.”

They walked for a little while, heading through the double doors and passed a crowded nurse’s station. “I can’t tell you enough how much he’s done,” Shepard started, as they walked along a long corridor. “He’s been doing nothing but trying to make it up to you since we left him on the Citadel. He helped a little girl after she had lost her entire family. That’s how he ended up here.”

“One girl, huh?” He replied in a facetious tone.

“You know, Shepard,” Miranda offered. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you may want to move on to the more…pertinent things that Sidonis has done.”

Jane glared at the back of Miranda’s head as they continued walking. She purposefully slowed down to distance themselves from her and the baby in her arms.

“Still listening, Shepard,” Garrus supplied, flatly.

“He saved my life,” she said. “There was an attack. Before today’s. And he threw himself into the crossfire. Covered my body with his own. My unarmored body. He was severely wounded.”

“Why were you unarmored?”

“Not the point, Garrus.”

“He saved your life," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I’m thankful for that. But it’s not enough. I let him live. That was enough.”

She dug in her heels and grabbed his arm again. “Would you stop for a second?”

They stopped walking. Miranda looked back and switched Gabby from one hip to another but didn’t say anything. Jane and Garrus stared at each other. Gabby trilled questioningly.

“I’m stopped,” he said.

She shook her head. “I almost don’t even want to talk to you right now and that…that scares me.” She knew what she wanted to say, to convey. What had to be said. But there was a cadence, an order to her delivery. So she started again, “He saved Gabby’s life. One life.” She held one finger up in front of him to emphasize her point. “Our daughter’s. She needed a bone marrow transplant. A turian bone marrow transplant, if she was ever going to be able to walk or live without a constant risk of being paralyzed, or worse. And he volunteered. It left him a cripple." Garrus still appeared unmoved. She continued. "And he saved your ass, too. He brought the shields down today and got those guns on line and I want…” She stopped, held her arm out and pointed towards where Miranda stood. “I want you to go in there and see him and give him the forgiveness that he’s looking for. But not because of any of what I just told you. None of that is why I want you to do this.”

“Then what is it?” He growled.

“He made me,” she hesitated. “Talking to him. Seeing him throw his life away waiting for forgiveness from you." She shook her head. "Some of the things he said, they-”

Miranda called down the hallway, “Shepard-”

Garrus raised his hand toward Miranda and cut her off. He was looking down at Jane intently, a wild fire burning in his eyes. He was listening now. “They what? What did he make you do?” He asked, his tone menacing.

She lifted her chin up to provide him a full view of her face as she said the words. “He made me doubt you.”

She hoped her words would hit their target and she was not disappointed. His faced blanched, at least it did the turian version of blanching and a pained thrum resonated at the back of his throat.

She continued. “He made me wonder if Omega really had changed you. Because I knew my Garrus wouldn’t carry around a hatred like that.” He was watching her, stunned into silence. She knew what was going through his mind, what his arguments would be. She didn't need his participation in this conversation to get her point across. “That’s not justice, Garrus, any more than putting a bullet in his brain would’ve been justice. I thought we left this behind us when we walked away from him on the Citadel. But if you insist on continuing to withhold his forgiveness inside of yourself, than you’re no better than he is: throwing his life away waiting for it.” The words hurt. She could see that they were hurting him and they were hurting her to say them. But they needed to be said. And she wasn’t done. “It’s a waste,” she continued, “All of it. Because no, you didn't do it: what Sidonis did. But you continue to breathe life into it. You continue to refuse to let it go. And in the end, if that's how you want it to go, then you both deserve to lie in the hell that he made.”

He stared at her, his face no longer blank or impassive but something else entirely. Something entirely opposite from blank and impassive. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her for awhile, his emotions laid bare in his expression and the sounds that he was making. She regretted her words, or regretted having to same them at least. They were harsh, but Garrus was hard-headed, anything but harsh would'nt've gotten through. He had proven that.

He said nothing. Finally, slowly, he turned away from her and walked towards Miranda. He made a chirrup sound that Gabby answered with a melodic trill. He put his forehead against Gabby’s and breathed in deeply. He then looked to Miranda and asked, “Where’s his room?”

XXX-OOOO-XXX

Garrus walked into the room, turned around and shut the door behind him. He pressed his hand against the cool metal of the door reflecting on the words that Jane had just spoken. The story that they told. For a turian, their story, their legacy, was everything. And Shepard was right, as she so often was. This was not the story he wanted written about him. What happened on Omega was already a part of it, a part of him, but what he did afterwards, what he did now, still remained to be written.

He turned toward the hospital bed and walked over to it. Sidonis was lying there with tubes and monitors attached all over him. There was a steady hiss and sigh of a machine that appeared to be breathing for him. The young turian’s eyes were closed. Garrus wondered if he had gotten there too late.

“Sidonis?”

There was no response. Not even a blip on one of his monitors.

“It’s Garrus. I’m here.”

Nothing.

Garrus looked around the room. Looked over the body of the turian lying in front of him. Thought about Shepard’s words again and swallowed.

Closing his eyes, he saw them all together. His squad. He heard their laughter. Remembered their jokes, their heated words, bloody battles and burnt meals. He remembered their successes and elation, their failures and frustration. He remembered...the blood. Remembered holding Weaver as she died in his arms. Remembered the hatred that crawled up inside of him and completely suffused his entire being. The vengeance that drove him. The loss and failure that consumed him.

He remembered it all.

Breathed it all in.

All of it, for all that it was worth.

For all that he was worth.

“Erash, Monteague, Mierin,” Garrus began reciting the names of his former squad, ignoring the flanging whine warping each syllable with his agony. “Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler,” he stopped. “And,” he hesitated. “Damnit.” He opened his eyes and raised them up to the ceiling. “And,” he struggled again. “Damn you,” he looked back down to Sidonis’ inert form and gripped the metal railings of his hospital bed, curling his talons around them until it hurt. “And…Weaver,” he finally managed to get it out.

Sidonis lay there. His machine sighed and hissed. Garrus closed his eyes again. When he opened them, he saw them all standing there. Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, and Weaver. They gave him a nod, each one in turn and he whined, a slow, loud, agonizing peal of anguish that reverberated through his flanging vocal chords and echoed against the four walls of the hospital room. Turians don't cry, but he keened and wailed and gave voice to his pain, his guilt and his shame. And then they began to fade away. Each one of them. Along with the sound of his cries.

When he looked back down at Sidonis they were alone again, the two of them, in the silence. They were all that was left of the spirit of his crew. Inextricably bonded together through their once common purpose. Through their once cohesive squad. And they were both broken.

For turians, there is a shame in failure. But there is no failure without action. And every turian is compelled to duty, compelled to act – so it is known that there will always be failure and there will always be shame. But that shame could be overcome. The only shame that could not be overcome was in the failure to act. The failure to serve. The failure to do one’s duty. As a leader, Garrus had an obligation to his squad. He owned their victories, and avenged their defeats. And he wore their dishonor as his own.

Shepard's words had been right. They had been so on target that the sniper in him had to admire their economy and precision. They had held a mirror up to his face and he had been terrified at what he saw in its reflection. And she had been right to damn them to the same fate, he and Sidonis, as hard as that was to hear. For it wasn’t forgiving Sidonis that he found so hard to do. It was the forgiveness that it would grant himself that had him torn to pieces inside. A forgiveness that he wouldn't let himself believe that he deserved. He could see now that if he had killed Sidonis on the Citadel that he would not have attained the closure that he so desired. And now, he knew that withholding his forgiveness would continue to reap the same empty rewards.

He had abandoned his duty as a leader and it was time to set it right.

Garrus turned his translator off so that his words would be in his native tongue. “Sidonis,” he began and even though there was no discernible reaction, he continued, “I recognize your actions both good and ill. I acknowledge your repentance. I do not offer you honor, yet I relinquish that right to the spirits. Let them judge you for what’s been done for I shall no more. I grant you what is in my rights to give you. I grant you salvation. In my eyes. And in the eyes of our unit. May you move on to the next place and may you find peace and sense of purpose. But most of all, may you find acceptance. May you become one with the all.”

And with his words, Garrus let it all go. The shame and the sorrow. The hatred and guilt. The pain and the blame. He keened again, this time low and mournful as he recited his squad's names in a whisper, "Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver...and Sidonis."

The breathing machine hissed and sighed.

“Sidonis?” Garrus grabbed the turian’s hand and watched his face. He looked for movement. Looked for his eyes to open. He saw nothing. Nothing at all.

The hiss and moan of the breathing machine went on.

Garrus stood like that for a long time.

He heard the door. Heard the footsteps tentatively approaching him. Felt a gentle touch against his cowl. He heard the sound of a voice, recognized its familiar timbre and even though he couldn’t understand the words, he knew their meaning. Turning to look at her, he switched his translator back on with a movement of his eye.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

He looked at her empty arms. “Where’s the baby?”

“Miranda’s got her. She’s right outside.”

He watched as Jane’s gaze fell down to Sidonis. She looked at the turian in silence for a long time and then she placed her hand on top of Garrus’.

He looked at that, too. For a long time. Her hand on his. And then he let go of Sidonis and drew his hand away, taking hers with it.

They looked at each other. She twisted her hand around so that she could hold onto him. “I’m sorry,” she said.

It wasn’t obvious whether or not she was expressing a condolence for the ordeal he just went through or an apology for her previous words. He nodded his head, accepting the former and not requiring the latter. She had been right. It hurt, but what she said had needed to be said. He could admit that now, admit that he hadn't been able to see the truth prior to hearing them. He would thank her for them. One day, when he could find the right words for it.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Garrus nodded his head slowly.

And they left.

Chapter Text

Two Years Later

“And the batarians?” Jane asked.

“As angry as ever,” Miranda answered. She was a shimmering image on Jane’s household vidcom. It dominated an entire wall of her home office. Garrus lovingly called it her ‘warroom’.

“And you’re sure you’ve gotten to the bottom of their funds?”

Miranda nodded her head. “Absolutely. I have cutoff the serpent’s head, have no doubt.”

The attack all those years ago on Sanctuary had lead them on a long and lengthy wild goose chase for a hidden cache of Cerberus funds and a secret failsafe plan of The Illusive Man’s that was as impressive as it was ridiculous. He really had gone off the deep end in the end. But once again the universe had proven that there was no shortage of fanatics waiting in the deep end to execute maniacal plans.

“Good work,” Jane said.

”Shepard, you know this doesn’t end anything with the batarians,”” she said pointedly. She shrugged and sighed. “Probably not with Cerberus, either. Or with unsanctioned splinter groups with their own funding and agendas utilizing the Cerberus name, anyway.”

“I’m aware.”

The link to the batarians was as simple as it was frightening. They had accepted payment, an alarmingly small payment, for the attack on Sanctuary, with the promise of getting Commander Shepard – alive. She would never walk any streets without a backup weapon and some semblance of armor – that hadn’t changed. She had accepted that. But things had gotten better and she had been a big part of that – and that, she accepted.

“Talk to you next week then?”

“You bet.”

Jane only took a small moment to regroup herself and move on to her next meeting. She looked around the room and moved a few of the smaller pieces of furniture around before calling out, “Gabby! You ready?”

The door immediately burst open and Gabrielle Vakarian skipped in. “I’ve been waiting,” she said with a big grin on her face. “Just like you told me. Patience. Patience. Patience.”

“Yes,” Jane replied, smiling. “I can see that. Good job and thank you.”

Jane turned toward the vidcom console and pressed a few buttons. The blue screen crackled back to life and a new, familiar face came to view.

“Auntie Jack!” Gabby squealed. “I’ve been working on throw, just like you showed me.”

Jack crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. She wore an actual shirt that covered most of her midsection but it was sleeveless and had a low enough cut that one could still appreciate the artwork of her tattoos. “Is that right,” she said, her voice laced in skepticism. “Well then,” she added, turning one of her fingers around in a sign of hurrying things along, “let me see what you got, squirt.”

Gabby looked up to her mother and Jane gave her a smile and a permissive nod. She said, “Use that pillow over there, the smaller one on the sofa and take care with your aim.”

“I know,” Gabby replied quickly. “Line of fire. Path and landing.”

“Finally!” Jack groused over the vidcom. “She remembers something.”

Gabby looked at Jack on the vidcom, pulling a face.

“Go on,” Jack replied with impatience. “Did I stutter?”

Gabby looked back towards the pillow that her mother had indicated and then around the whole of the room. As she returned to the pillow, she bit her upper lip in concentration. Holding out her hands, they began to light up with a blueish glow. The pillow lifted, Gabby’s hands slashed through the air from left to right. The pillow mimicked the path that her hands drew, flying across the room and landing perfectly into an empty chair against the far wall.

Gabby heaved a contented sigh with a broad smile across her face as she looked first at her mother and then over to Jack on the screen.

Jane smiled.

Jack said, “What?” And her face was fixed in an unimpressed mien. “That’s it? You throw like a kindergartner!”

Gabby placed her hands upon her hips, undeterred by the lack of praise from her tutor. “I am a kindergartner,” she replied. Turians matured quicker than humans and Gabby was well beyond a normal human kindergartner. But she was technically in kindergarten.

“That’s not an excuse,” Jack replied seriously. “No one’s gonna give you a free pass for how old you are, or small you are or different.” She stepped closer to the vidcom until her face dominated the screen. She was pointing at Gabby as she asked, “What do we use throw for?”

The smile disappeared from Gabby’s face. “For advantage. Surprise. To… immobilize,” she had to take her time to enunciate the word carefully. “Or stun. To allow time for another attack or escape.”

Jane’s smile had faded as well. She had approved of her daughter’s training with Jack. Even approved of Jack’s firm hand and methods. Gabby Vakarian wasn’t one of Commander Shepard’s crew. She was her baby daughter and although she parented with consistency and boundaries and with a firmness of her own, she also coddled and loved her daughter. Gabby needed both. She needed to learn how to defend herself and fight, if necessary. Because of the universe being what it would always be. And because of who she was.

“You’re damn right,” Jack replied. “And who do you think you were gonna stun or immobilize with that throw? Huh?”

Gabby shook her head. “No one.”

“Don’t do it,” Jack said, pointing again. “Unless you mean it. If you ain’t got it. If there’s nothing around that you can handle. There ain’t no shame in turning tail and running. Right?”

Gabby nodded. “Right.”

Jack lifted her chin and stepped back away from the screen a little. “Let me see it again.”

Gabby looked at Jane again.

Jane nodded her approval again.

Gabby looked over to the pillow and raised her arms. She glanced at the sofa from where it had originally come from. Her hands sizzled with blue light and she slashed them across the room from right to left, following through as if hitting a home run.

The pillow zoomed across the room in a blur, hit the opposite wall above the sofa and burst at its seams in a explosion of fabric and material.

“Hell, yeah,” Jack yelled, clapping her hands and hooting. “Now that’s what the fuh, fuh-light path I’m talking about.”

Jane, smiling, narrowed her eyes in amusement at Jack and mouthed the words ‘thank you’.

Jack lifted her chin and her shoulders in a dismissive gesture and winked.

Gabby had immediately brought her hands up to her mouth and covered it, looking to her mother for a reaction to her destruction.

“It’s okay,” Jane said. “That was good. But do you think you can control that? Give me something that is in between? Take another pillow and…” She looked around the room. “And knock that statue over but not damage the pillow?”

Jane and Gabby both looked at Jack. Jack nodded her head in agreement.

Gabby looked back to the sofa and set her eyes on another pillow. She repeated the motion. This time her hands cut through the air harder than the first time but softer than the last. The pillow hit its intended target, the statue. The object rocked but the impact had not been enough for it to topple over. Gabby placed her hands on her hips and huffed. “Damn.”

“Uh, language?” Jane corrected, looking first at Gabby and then over to Jack.

Jack held her hands up in surrender and said, “You’re killing me as it, Shepard. A girl’s gotta keep a few vices. That wasn’t bad, squirt,” she said to Gabby.

“Not bad at all,” Jane joined in, bringing the child up under her arm into a hug. “You have to be able to control your movements. Sometimes throw can be used to save someone. Maybe move them out of harm’s way and you don’t want them to crash against the wall and burst after trying to save them, right?”

Gabby shook her head. “Right.”

“Overall a good display,” Jack added. “You keep working on that, and I’ll see you next week.”

After Jack disappeared and the vidcom shut down once again. Jane hugged Gabby to her one more time and asked, “Ready for a snack?” No one knew better than Jane how hungry using biotics could make a person. Besides, it was the end of the day. She had no more meetings and she expected Garrus home soon.

Gabby nodded and replied, “Yes!”

Later that same evening…

It was the middle of the night. Garrus and Jane slept pressed against one another in their large bed in the apartment that their little family of four shared after arriving on the Citadel from Sanctuary. The room was dark. The only sound came from the air system pushing a soft breeze against their coverlet.

Until an alarm chimed.

Garrus growled and turned over.

Jane sighed, turned onto her back and rubbed her fingers into her eyelids. “What time is it?” She asked, over a yawn.

“Oh-two-hundred,” Garrus supplied groggily.

Jane slung the covers to the side and moved to get up.

A large, taloned hand stopped her. “I’ll get it,” Garrus said, sounding more alert.

“I don’t mind,” she replied.

“Nah,” Garrus returned, already rolled over, up and out the bed. Scratching the back of his fringe he yawned, stretched and added, “I think it’s my turn anyway.”

It was, Shepard thought. Not that she made a habit of keeping count. She pulled the covers back over her, nuzzled her head against the pillow and murmured, “Thank you,” as she reached back for the alluring pull of deep sleep.

Garrus walked out of their bedroom door and across the living area to the secondary bedrooms on the other side of their apartment. He stopped in front of the first door and opened it a crack. Inside he could see Gabby sleeping soundly in her small, low-rise bed. Her peaceful profile was illuminated by the soft, yellow hue of her krogan nightlight. It was shaped like a thresher maw reared up and attacking, it’s large belly supplying the ambient lighting. A gift from Uncle Wrexy. Garrus chuckled under his breath a bit and shook his head as he quietly closed the door.

He approached the door to the other bedroom, gently rapped the backs of his fingers against it and waited.

“Yeah, come in,” the familiar voice answered.

Garrus turned the doorknob and let himself in. The room was dark, but he heard, “Bathroom?” And the tone was meek.

Garrus nodded. “No problem,” he said, as he flicked on a small light by the door, walked directly to the wheelchair in the corner and rolled it over to the specialized bed.

“Guess I shouldn’t have had that extra glass after dinner.”

Garrus shrugged easily. “Who watches a movie and has popcorn without drinking a soda?”

“Guess you’re right, it’s just that. I hate to be a bother.”

Garrus made a clicking noise at the back of this throat. “How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not a bother?” He pulled the covers back and bent over, snaking his arm beneath heavy legs. “Arm,” he directed and felt the warm arm snake around his shoulder before he began to lift. “That’s it,” he grunted as he lifted, turned and deposited the weight into the wheelchair. He reached down and placed each foot onto its holder. “Good?” He asked.

“Good.”

Garrus pushed the chair out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom.

“I got it from here.”

Wordlessly releasing his grip on the chairs' handles, Garrus watched as it moved further into the small room and the door shut behind it.

And he waited.

He leaned against the wall for a little while and shut his eyes, thinking about what he had on his calendar for the day. He was almost tempted to go look in on Gabby again when the bathroom door finally opened.

No words were exchanged as the pair returned to the bedroom and reversed the exercise that they had just gone through. When done, Garrus pushed the now empty wheelchair back to the corner and moved toward the door.

“Good night and…thanks again.”

Garrus flicked the light off and said, “You’re welcome. And good night, Sidonis.”

The END.