A/N: Hello readers! Welcome to my first Mass Effect fic! Working really hard on this one, so PMs, reviews, and all that jazz are greatly appreciated. This fic is going to follow the same format each chapter. Half of the chapter will be a flashback from ME1, ME2 or even earlier. The other half will follow the events of Mass Effect 3. Anyway, without further adieu.. ONWARD TO ADVENTURE!
August 23rd, 2170
Mindoir
Attican Traverse
"Jennifer!"
Jennifer Shepard heard her voice being called, but reckoned she didn't much care. She fidgeted on the low branch she had been napping on, trying to get comfortable again and putting the minor disturbance behind her. A warm breeze shook the leaves of the tree she rested in gently, creating a low rustling sound that eased her back to sleep..
"JENN!"
She started awake from her doze, grabbing onto the branch to avoid slipping off into the soft tilled dirt below. After her heart rate returned to normal, she peered over the branch and down at the voice below.
"What do you want, Mark?" She called down, stifling a yawn as she did so. Mark Shepard stood a few feet below her, his arms crossed and face stern. Two mesh baskets sat next to him, one half full with fruit and the other was empty save for a few clumps of dirt. It didn't take a lot of guessing to figure out why he had woken her up.
"You know exactly what I want," Mark said, echoing her thoughts. He gestured towards the empty basket impatiently.
Jennifer sighed, hoisting her feet over one side of the branch and dropping down next to her twin brother. She brushed the dirt and bark from her stained pants and nudged her brother with her shoulder affectionately.
"You are always so hung up," She picked up her basket and flashed her brother a brilliant smile.
"Yeah, well you're always so lazy," He said sternly. His serious facade quickly faded as he turned to her and ruffled her amber hair fondly. She beamed up at him, but his smile soured into a sad frown.
"You know they're all counting on us, Jenn." He said softly.
"I know," She muttered quietly in response, bowing her head.
"Mom, Dad, everyone else in the colony. If we don't turn up a profit we'll lose all of our funding." He glanced over his shoulder to their small town in the distance, past the fields their family owned. Many of their crops were dotted with colorful fruits and vegetables. It was a fruitful harvest this season, but it still was barely enough to feed the entire colony, let alone be exported.
They set to work picking the fruits from the vines and trees, trimming the overgrowth and checking to make sure the water pumps hasn't clogged. It was mind numbing dull to Jennifer, but Mark actually enjoyed the monotonous work. He began to hum quietly to himself, enjoying the warmth of Mindoir's late summer.
"What the hell are you so chipper about?" Jennifer called behind him as she bent over to inspect a potentially ripe tomato.
"Nothin'," He called back to her. "It's just a nice day." Behind him he heard her scoff lightly. The condescending sound would normally put him off, but today Mark didn't feel like fighting again. It seemed like all they did was fight.
"Maybe you'd be in a better mood if you actually slept instead of watching vids all night." Mark bent over and meticulously scratched dried dirt off the toe of his boot, waiting for his sister to catch up.
"Five minutes of those vids are more interesting than a year of tending to plants on this stupid rock."
Mark shook his head and sighed. "I just don't much see the point of it is all."
Jennifer looked up at the slightly taller boy, her eyes narrowed.
"Why not?"
"You know dad would never let you be a marine," He replied hastily, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her intense stare. It was a trait that all the Shepard's shared. Their icy blue eyes were enough to make the average human feel anxious and uneasy, even amongst each other. "He was a marine and he left that life to start a new one here. He says this is better for us."
Jennifer rolled her eyes and stepped past him. "I don't want to be a marine, dumbass. But getting off this rock would make me happier than a Hanar in a fish tank." She turned back to him, flashing him a smile and a wink as she walked backwards.. "And those war vids are the closest I've got now."
He gave her his own crooked smile. "I don't think Hanar are very happy in fish tanks, Jenn." She shrugged dismissively.
"Eh, who knows. They're just all big stupid Jellyfish."
Large bugs buzzed around their heads as they ventured to the outskirts of their family's fields. Beyond the tall fence that marked the border of their land lay the immense and untamed forests of Mindoir. They were gathering the last of the ripe fruits from the particular row when Jennifer suddenly stopped.
Mark turned around giving Jennifer a puzzled look. She held up her hand to shush him and set down her heavy load of fruits as she tilted her head. A few moments later Mark heard what had stopped her in her tracks.
He turned his head up to see shuttles flying low above his head, their exhausts nearly catching fire to the tall trees below them. They flew so low that Mark could make out strange insignias on the side of each shuttle. It was even more disconcerting when he wracked his brain to put a name to the strange design and came up short..
Jennifer cast Mark a nervous look as his head followed the unknown shuttles that neared their small colony. She watched his mouth move as he counted the shuttles.
"There are fifty," he turned to her, slightly confused at the shuttles and also how quickly she counted them all. He scratched at his unkempt black hair.
"Who are they?" He said, glancing back at the lone settlement on Mindoir.
"I don't know…" She trailed off. Without warning, she dropped her basket and began to run back towards the settlement.
"Wait!" Mark called out behind her, but she was already out of sight. He could hear her boots splashing in the mud as she sprinted. She looked towards the shuttles, shielding her eyes against Mindoir's lone sun as it set on the horizon. She felt a tightening feeling in her gut. It only intensified moments later when the alarms went up.
Mark was next to her moments later, fingering his omni-tool with wide eyes as he ran on her flank.
"Batarians," He breathed, stopping in his tracks as he stare down at the warning message. Jennifer stopped a few paces ahead, watching as the first hails of gunfire were fired from the forward most shuttles.
"No," She gasped, watching the gunfire tear into the prefabs that housed so many people she knew. She turned around to her brother who was still staring down at his omni-tool, seemingly shell shocked. She grabbed his forearm and began pulling him roughly. "We need to go get Mom and Dad!" She shouted at him, panic evident in her voice.
He nodded at her, blinking a few times to bring himself to reality. He tucked his chin and sprinted towards the chaos right behind his sister. Hearing the first of many screams.
They met some resistance heading the other way. Families bloodied and tired, carrying their meager belongings and small children as they fled into the Shepard orchards and fields. Jenn watched them irritably as Mark ran up those fleeing their home to inquire about their parents. She was certain that they were running to their deaths. The slavers probably had the entire settlement surrounded, cutting off any escape. Their best chances would be if they all stood together to fight off the threat head on. She sneered at them. They were all cowards.
Mark padded back to her, shaking his head. "They haven't seen Mom or Dad either," He said, his voice tinged with worry.
"That's because they wouldn't have run," Jennifer responded flatly, watching the smoke rise up from the small town. A few shuttles still circled around providing air support, but most had already landed and dispensed their cargo of Batarian slavers.
Mark looked at her levelly, a sad frown on his face as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and then ran off towards their burning home, Jennifer on his heels.
They sat in the bushes, wielding their makeshift weapons as the chaos unfold in front of them. The Batarians were lightly armored and armed with an assortment of shotguns and assault rifles. They tore easily into the makeshift militia that was defending the small settlement on Mindoir. The farmers were poor shots and poorly armed. Mark cringed at the bodies already littering the streets. They were dropping like flies.
Mark tensed as he spied Tevin Green duck behind bench for cover. Tevin was a grade above the twins but was one of Mark's closest friends. Tevin was holding a small pistol with white knuckles at he peered above the bench at Batarian's that hadn't seen him yet. His other arm hung limply at his side as blood poured out of a wound on his shoulder. Mark nearly cried out to Tevin, but he knew doing so would alert the Batarians just a few meters away. In a reckless move, the young man lifted his handgun with his good arm and began firing.
Mark turned his head away as bullets ripped through the bench and into Tevin. His grip tightened on the sheers he was holding and he felt his mouth water as if he was going to vomit.
Jennifer grabbed him just as he began to lunge out of the bushes, as if to save Tevin who was already bleeding out and twitching in the tall grass.
"We have to go while they're distracted," She hissed. The Batarians were hurrying over to where Tevin lay staring up at the sky and gasping. Seemingly to finish the job.
"But Tevin!" Mark's voice was choked with grief. Jennifer pulled him harder, grabbing him by the collar of his farming shirt and nearly dragging him into the alleyway. Halfway down the alleyway Mark regained his composure, apologizing quietly and adjusting his grip on the sheers. She gripped his shoulder firmly in a reassuring manner and as they continued their trot down the narrow side street.
They made their way deeper into the settlement, finding a ring of prefabs that created the center of town. They made their way into their own, familiar prefab, Mark taking point while Jennifer watched the rear.
the farmboy tensed as he entered his small apartment. A figure lay curled up in the corner of the prefab, unmoving. Mark's grip on the sheers tightened momentarily but relaxed when he saw frightened blue eyes identical to his own looking up at him.
"Mom!" He let out a sigh of relief rushing to his mother's side. In his mother's arms a toddler had his face pressed firmly against her chest. He looked up at the sound of Mark's voice, reaching out to his older brother. Mark knelt down and hugged his mother. He kissed his baby brother on the cheek, relieved that they were alright.
Jennifer hadn't moved from the door, she peered through it cautiously searching for any Batarians that had reached the town square.
"I'm so glad you two are a-alright," The mother of three said, her voice shaky. "When I heard the gunshots and you two weren't back I thought…" she trailed off, pulling Mark in for another hug.
"Where's dad?" Mark inquired. His mother's already pale, freckled face seemed to whiten even more.
"He went outside." She gestured towards the window. The sun had already set and any light had faded quickly. The only light that could be seen was from the weapons fire in the distance.
"He took one of the handguns with him. He...He.." She brought her hand to her mouth as she fought back tears. Her messy bun had fallen and her red hair fell in front of her face like a veil.
Like a funeral veil. Mark thought morbidly. He tightened his jaw and shook his head to remove the unsettling thought from it.
Roy, the youngest Shepard child began to cry aswell, mirroring his mother's distress. Mark grit his teeth almost painfully and turned his head to Jennifer. She was standing in the middle of the prefab, her hand on her heart and her slightly agape. She was taking large gasping breaths as if she was trying to hold back emotion.
"We don't know anything yet, Jenn." He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. With that he turned back to his mother and stood, offering his hand to help her stand. Instead of her hand, she drop a Carnifex into his outstretched palm.
He looked down at the weapon, gulping audibly. His father had taught both of the Shepard twins how to shoot early on in their childhood. Mark nearly smiled at the memory of their father taking them out to the edge of their fields and shooting at bottles and the occasional critter that would come by, fat on their crops. Living in a colony in the Skyllian Verge, Mark was well aware that there had always been a chance this day would come. But, feeling the weight in his hands and knowing now that he wielded it with the intent to kill was a feeling that nearly took his breath away. He holstered the weapon and nodded to his mother, steeling his nerve as he turned towards the door.
He strode out the door with a determined stride. It was stopped short as an armored arm wrapped around his neck and pulled him off his feet. He only had time to let out of startled yelp until his entire view was covered with the face of a Batarian. He gagged gripping desperately at the arm choking off his air. His Carnifex pistol lay on the ground out of reach.
An angry cry wrung out in the air, the Batarian looked up with gritted teeth and was immediately greeted with a pair of sheers to the eye. Mark's own eye widened as the bright red batarian blood poured onto his face. He saw his savior twist the sheers in the Batarian's eye, cutting off it's guttural scream as the sheers plunged deeper into it's skull. It fell backwards, releasing Mark and falling limp against the prefab, sheers still firmly planted in it's eye.
Mark sat up, gasping sweet air and gagging at the not so sweet taste of blood in his mouth. He looked up to an equally bloody Jennifer Shepard. She was staring at the Batarian's body as Mark composed himself. She bent over and picked up the Carnifex and held it out to her twin.
"You dropped this," She said, humorlessly. Mark took it and checked the safety, realizing now that the weapon would be no use to him if the safety was on. He clicked it off and stood up, giving his mother a reassuring nod and Jennifer a pat on the back.
"Let's get out of here."
September 2nd, 2186
Vancouver
Earth
Sol System
Jennifer Shepard started awake. She stared up at the chrome ceiling in confusion as her heart beat slowed. She craned her neck towards her clock on the wall and squinted at the illuminated digits in the corner of her dark room.
0402
She groaned loudly. Stubbornly she turned over and tried to force herself back into a light slumber, if only for a few minutes. It was a fruitless effort and a few minutes later she found herself in one of the many gyms of the Alliance base, clad in her workout sweats.
The lights flickered on as she entered the large and mostly empty room. She smiled to herself and she took in the sight of the exercise equipment and track that lay before her. She was pleased to find not another soul was in sight, finding the thought of company in the wake of her fouling mood anything but pleasant.
She did a few stretching exercises, feeling the thick corded muscles of her body relax, then she took off on a steady pace along rubber track. She mulled over her thoughts as she ran, trying to determine what had woken her.
Dreams were the most likely culprit. They had been disturbing her long before she had risked a suicide mission, interacted with a faulty beacon created by a species long extinct not once but twice, and most importantly died. She shook her head slightly as a chill ran up her already sweating form. Sometimes it was still hard to believe that she had died. But a quick glance at the slightly glowing scars that decorated her arms brought the memories to the forefront of her mind.
While all those things were traumatic by anyone's standards, the former alliance officer was very adept at stowing it away to the far reaches of her mind. Plenty of people warned her against this, coaxing her to talk about her experiences. But to her they were in the past, and there was no changing this or point dwelling on it.
But there was one memory that was burned into her mind permanently. One that would always force itself to the forefront of Shepard's mind when she had too much time to think. And conveniently now with her discharge pending that was all she had.
She made a sharp turn abruptly and ran towards a line of punching bags. She stopped in front of one and began the hand to hand combat routine that she had learned during basic training. Basic felt like a lifetime ago but she didn't miss a single step as she unmercilessly wailed on the innocent sack. It was a good workout, good enough to shift her focus.
She was halfway through the well practiced routine when a flash of brown hair caught her attention. Ashley Williams stood near the entrance of the gym. Even in her loosely fitting PT's she looked formidable as she towered over the shorter soldier.
She was conversing with a stocky soldier standing at parade rest. The lieutenant commander's hair bobbed back and forth as she pulled it into tight bun. She talked casually with the soldier and he snapped her a salute, then ran off to the other soldier's that Jennifer did not see enter.
Shepard was about to turn to leave when Ashley looked up and directly at her, making and holding eye contact. She felt a slight irritation as Ashley made a beeline towards her, her loose PT uniform ruffling slightly.
Ashley stood a few feet from the older woman, never breaking eye contact.
"Williams," Shepard said in the neutral tone.
"Commander Shepard," Ashley replied, a friendly smile creeping over her face. Shepard broke the eye contact, feeling shame attached to the title.
"It's just Shepard." She corrected. Ashley's smile flattened, leaving the two standing awkwardly.
"So…" Ashley began. "Any word from Alliance brass?"
"Ash."
"I'm just wondering when this whole thing is going to blow over." Ashley unconsciously rubbed her arm, the awkward tension making her feel just that. Awkward and tense. Jennifer stood there in silence, shaking her head sadly.
"It won't just blow over." Jennifer said bristled visibly at her tone. But nevertheless, Ashley tried once again to mend the barrier between them.
"I just miss having my old XO boss me around, y'know." She smiled at some fond memory. Shepard found herself disgusted at Ashley's tone. Just months before she had spat in her face in Horizon, calling her a disgrace to humanity after she had just saved Ashley's sorry ass. The resulting scuffle only ended when it did when Miranda intervened. And also..
Mark. Though Ashley was here now, sucking up to Jennifer, she hadn't seen the two of them together since Horizon. She crossed her arms, contemplating the status of their relationship. Here Ashley was, almost groveling at her feet. But, she hadn't even seen her attempt to bridge the gap between her and her brother that had been wedged there violently by the Collector threat.
"Listen." Jennifer started, fighting hard to keep her tone neutral. "I've got stuff to do. Important, under house arrest things to do." She made a flippant gesture, and Ashley caught the drift.
"Right.. I understand." She kicked at the ground almost sheepishly before continuing. "If you're ever in the mess. Just… Don't be a stranger."
Shepard nodded rigidly, before stepping past the newly appointed officer. Though they hadn't made mention of it, the newly sewn on Lieutenant Commander patch on Ashley's PTs made Jennifer heart swell with pride.
Seems like the Williams' curse is lifting, eh Ash?
The small Alliance cruiser dipped and curved around incoming fire only sustaining minor damage to it's kinetic barriers. It banked left, dodging multiple incoming hostiles on a suicide trajectory. It took them out effortlessly with it's javelin launcher, exploding them into tiny fragments that would forever drift in the emptiness of space. It then zeroed in on it's primary target. A large geth dreadnaut-
"Captain-"
Loomed in the distance. It's hulking size in comparison to the buzzing cruiser didn't daunt the captain. He charged fearlessly towards it, charging up his Thanix cannon just as the dreadnaut made a desperate dash towards the relay nearby. But the smaller ship was quicker, locking in on it's positions and unleashing the full fury of it's reaper tech. The enemy vessel-
"Captain Shepard." The gruff voice behind Mark made him jump. He peeled his gaze away from the spacious window and towards the bulky junior officer addressing him.
Vega saluted him in greeting. Mark smiled back warmly, glancing once more at the child playing in the small patch of grass below him. The child held a small, figurine of a ship that eerily resembled the Normandy SR-1. He ducked and weaved, his mouth moving in what Mark assumed were mock sound effects of a heated battle.
Turning his full attention back to the Lieutenant, he saw that Vega had followed his gaze and was looking down at the boy. He met Mark's eyes and grinned.
"Seems like you've inspired a future sailor, Loco." Mark laughed heartily, slapping his friend on the back.
"I didn't do any of that fancy footwork they call 'flying'. My work was ground side."
"And one hell of a job you did with it," Vega's blatant admiration made Mark clear his throat uncomfortably.
"I just did what needed to be done. Luckily that wasn't flying. I don't know if I could even begin to pilot anything other than a taxi." Mark gestured dismissively, purposefully admitting his flaws in an attempt to derail the younger man's admiration.
"Well, I could give you a lesson some time. Let's just say I know a little something about the fancy footwork you mentioned earlier." Mark laughed again, feeling at ease with the shift of tone.
"You? A pilot? Doesn't that require delicacy? Finess? You look like you can't even put on your boots without ripping them in half." it was Vega's turn to laugh now. A light chuckled that originated deep in his chest.
"You'd be surprised. When I'm behind the helm of a Kodiak, I can make her purr." Mark gave him a skeptical look.
"We'll see about that, Lieutenant. Now I'm sure your reason for coming to see me wasn't just to brag about your piloting prowess." Vega shook his head, the smile on his face slowly becoming more and more mischievous.
"I may or may not have overheard some talk going on…" He began.
"Talk on a military base? Who did you bribe, Vega?"
"I'm serious, Captain. Let's just say I have friends in high places." Vega skirted the topic deftly, continuing on. "I heard from a very reliable source that your demotion has been denied. I just wanted to come here and share that news with you before I was beat to the punch." He smiled broadly at Mark, who stood there expectantly.
"And?"
"And what?"
"What about the other Shepard?" Vega was silent. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, sighing as he did so.
"I don't know."
"I have a hard time believing that. If you know my fate, there isn't a way in hell you wouldn't know hers. That's the big news anyway." Vega shook his head again, gritting his teeth.
"Well, I didn't want to get into it." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes on the floor. "But, it doesn't sound good."
The silenced that followed was heavy. On one hand, Mark felt slightly elated by the news. His demotion or discharge from the military had been looming over his head for months. He was investigated and interrogated almost constantly the first month after the Normandy was surrendered over to the Alliance. It had all calmed down into a bored lull now, giving Mark time to stare out the window blankly and daydream, the threat moving to the back of his mind.
Any relief Mark felt was hurriedly swallowed up by shame when he remembered there was one person who had it worse than him. His sister couldn't even leave the base, unless she wanted to start the entire process over and turn her probable discharge into a certain one.
The emotional highs and lows he'd felt in just the span of a second nearly made his head spin. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the inevitable headache began creeping in, and with it the name of the only person who he wanted to turn to when his state of mind was as rocky as it was now entered his mind.
Ashley.
He let out a heavy sigh, letting his hand fall from his nose to his sprouting beard. He stroked the stubble lightly, recounting all the times he'd seen Ashley since their last night on that forsaken shit-hole they had been stationed on for a few months before the collector attack.
Mark often thought it was a cruel twist of fate that him and Ashley were both plopped into the same base in Vancouver at nearly the same time. She adeptly avoided him, however. Her food became suddenly unappetizing when he entered the mess, and exercises abruptly finishing when he spotted her PTing in the early hours.
Am I really surprised? Can I really blame her? Regardless, I'd do it all again if I had to.
A quiet beep roused Mark from his daydreaming (again). He turned back to Vega as he checked the pinging message on his omni-tool. Vega frowned and rubbed his chin as he read on, before speaking up.
"Well, back to work for me." His soft baritone returning to it's usual cheery state. He cast one final look out the window, but the boy they had spotted earlier was gone. His toy ship sat in the grass, abandoned and forgotten.
Vega leaned against the window, sighing wistfully.
"Wouldn't it be nice to go back to those days?" He trailed off, his eyes locked on something unseen in the horizon. His omni-tool beeped again incessantly, begging for his attention.
"Back before the Alliance had you on a leash?" Mark joked.
"Well I wasn't going to say it but.." They both chuckled quietly, happy to feel the tension lift between them.
"Go on ahead, LT. We'll talk later."
Vega nodded, saluting the senior officer and heading out the door. As the door closed behind him, Mark turned back towards the window again. He rested his head against the cool glass, closing his eyes as his thoughts returned once again to the plucky marine he'd picked up on Eden Prime.
