A/N: A short fic about Hannah & Shepard meeting after Elysium.
No beta, so all errors are mine. Apologies.
As usual all things Mass Effect belong to Bioware.
Lieutenant Commander Shepard leaned back in her chair in the private room in the Navy hospital on Arcturus Station and opened the citation for the Alliance's highest award for valour. It was printed on actual paper and bound in Alliance blue leather; a rarity in the age of datapads and holoscreens. Admiral Hackett had delivered it to Shepard personally an hour earlier.
"She's a hell of a soldier, Shepard," Hackett had told her.
"She's a hell of a daughter, sir," she corrected, pride and love and fear somehow all apparent in her voice.
"No doubt," the admiral agreed. Hackett smiled warmly and continued, "Commander, if there's anything you need, you let me know."
"Sir, I just want to be here," she pleaded.
"You've been given leave, as long as you need. Here," he said and handed her the slim blue book, "Some reading material, while you wait. It's been approved. The ceremony will be held when the docs give her the all clear."
Admiral Hackett saluted her sedated daughter, to Hannah's surprise, and left the room.
Hannah shook her head at the memory of Hackett saluting Jane. Hannah looked at her daughter, again. While she knew that Jane was past any life-threatening danger, the sight of her still broke her heart. Bandages and medi-gel patches covered her. The few places where Hannah could see Jane's skin only showed ugly purple and yellow bruising. A gauze strip traced a diagonal line across her daughter's face, starting above her right eyebrow, down across the nose and ending on her left cheek. Fluids were being administered by IV lines. A monitor next to the head of Jane's bed beeped in time with her heartbeat.
Her little girl - her baby lay there hurt and there wasn't anything she could do but wait. Hannah wanted nothing more than to pick Jane up, cradle her in her arms, kiss her forehead and tell her she'll be all right. But Jane wasn't six years old and her injuries were more serious than a scraped knee.
Tears now threatened to fall, again. Hannah had cried repeatedly since hearing the news of Jane's condition after her heroics (that was the only term that fit) on Elysium. Pride and fear had fought continually as she waited for the Kilimanjaro to reach Arcturus Station. Enough crying. She angrily wiped her eyes.
Hannah read. It began:
Rank and Organization: Second Lieutenant, Systems Alliance Navy, Marine Detachment, SSV Kiev.
Place and date: Illyria, Elysium, 25 October 2176.
Citation: Second Lieutenant Jane A. Shepard distinguished herself conspicuously by gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of her life above and beyond the call of duty in action with an armed enemy in the city of Illyria, on Elysium, on 25 October, 2176.
Hannah read on, paragraphs and paragraphs filled with phrases like at great personal risk, displaying gallantry, no thought of personal safety, inspirational leadership, wounded, refused medical treatment preferring others were aided first, rescued the civilians, rallied her troops and most of all above and beyond the call of duty jumped out at her.
Pride and fear still battled within her. Ever since Jane had signed the application to the Naval Academy her greatest fear was the visit. She had endured once before, when Thomas was lost. She couldn't bear to think of it happening to her again. Not about Jane. It was the curse of their profession. Children followed their parents into service, inspired by lives filled with honour and duty.
Hannah looked at Jane, cataloguing her wounds with the corresponding dressing. Gunshot wound to the right side of her abdomen; dislocated shoulder from hand-to-hand combat with a batarian; broken ribs from the same encounter; cut to the face (her pretty face) from batarian knife; gunshot wound to right thigh; bruised and broken hands from hand-to-hand combat. She was tough, no doubt.
"Mom?" a small, rough voice interrupted her thoughts. Hannah put down the book, jumped to her feet and rushed to her daughter's side. She grabbed Jane's hand, careful of the IV line taped to it and kissed her bruised knuckles.
"Janey!" she sobbed. Hannah leant over the bed to kiss her daughter's forehead. "How do you feel? Do you need anything? Should I get a nurse?" The questions rushed out of her mouth in a torrent.
"Thirsty," Jane replied, dry throat evident from the harshness of her voice. Hannah spooned some ice chips from a plastic cup on the bedside table into Jane's mouth.
"Better?" Hannah asked, desperate to ease Jane's discomfort. Jane smirked a little. Her eyes still looked glassy from the pain meds and her body looked worse but seeing that smirk told Hannah that Jane would be okay.
"Yeah," Jane answered. "How bad?"
Hannah swallowed the lump in her throat. "You dislocated your right shoulder, gunshot wound that damaged your spleen, broken –"
"Not me," Jane interrupted. "Elysium. Gunny Brooks. Corporal Park. Vitalis. The civilians that joined me. How bad?" she repeated. The effort of talking so much exhausted her.
Hannah smiled sadly at Jane's selflessness. That was her Jane, always thinking of others. "You did it, Janey. You held out long enough." The bad news can wait. "You should get some more rest."
"Brooks, Park, Vitalis, the others?" Jane asked again. Jane could be stubborn. "They were with me 'til the end." Jane paused. "Please?" Hannah could see the tears in her eyes. She looked at Hannah, hope fading.
"Vitalis, the turian? He's down the hall. He might not make it. The others... they didn't make it, Jane. I'm sorry." Jane started crying completely now, heart-wrenching sobs that Hannah hadn't seen from Jane since her father died. Hannah tried to hug Jane as best she could, leaning over the bed, one arm draped carefully over Jane's chest, the other behind her head, holding it to Hannah's shoulder.
"I failed them!" Jane managed to get out between sobs. "They trusted me and... And... I failed them!" Jane cried even harder than before.
"It's all right, Janey. You did everything you could," Hannah said desperately, trying to offer comfort. Tears of her own ran down her cheeks. It was hard to see her daughter in pain. "You did more than anyone could have expected. You saved so many, Jane. I'm so proud of you and your dad would be, too." Jane's sobbing eased to a muffled hitching. The shoulder of Hannah's jacket was wet from Jane's tears.
"You think so?" Jane asked hopefully. Hannah cradled Jane's head in her hands. Jane was quite a sight now, tear tracks, red puffy eyes and her nose was running. Hannah probably wasn't much better.
Hannah smiled and kissed Jane's forehead. "Of course he would be, Janey. What did he tell you were the three things all marines needed?"
"Honour, courage, commitment," said Jane, voice pitched low in a terrible imitation of her father's voice but recognisable, all the same. They both laughed. Hannah still missed Thomas awfully, even though it had been ten years since he was killed when the Tobruk was lost in the Verge. She still saw him when she looked at Jane. Those brilliant emerald eyes. The way she walked. The look she gave someone when they disappointed her.
"You lived up to all of that and more. He loved you, Jane," Hannah said tenderly, pushing Jane's hair back behind her ears. "I wish he could have seen how great you turned out."
"Me too," said Jane softly. Thomas' death had been hard on Jane. She idolised her father, he taught her gun safety and how to shoot when she was eight and filled her head with his tales of marines past. Men like 'Chesty' Puller, John Basilone, William Barber, John Glenn, Smedley Butler and Daniel Daly, people he idolised, became her heroes as well. More than all that, though, her father taught Jane about duty, integrity, decency and honour just by being him. Hannah influenced her as well, of course but Thomas seemed to have seeped into her. Jane's choice to become a marine instead of a naval officer like herself showed that. Not that there was that much distinction in the Alliance Navy, unlike the times past that Thomas regaled her about.
Hannah grabbed the box of tissues from the bedside table and offered them to Jane. "I think you should clean yourself up. You look terrible!" Hannah joked.
"You can talk, Mom! You've got mascara on your chin!" laughed Jane. It was good to see her laugh.
"Okay, okay!" Hannah said helping herself to some tissues. "Get some rest. I'll be here if you need me."
"Mom?" Jane asked softly as she wiped her face, carefully avoiding the dressing that ran across it. "Thanks for being here."
"Always, Jane," replied Hannah, as she wiped her own face. "Always."
Jane settled back on her pillow, closed her eyes and slept. Hannah retrieved the citation booklet and placed it on the table beside Jane. She went back to her chair beside her daughter's bed and sat down.
Maybe Jane will see that she deserves that medal. She probably will not though. Knowing her (and she did), Jane would say that the real heroes, the people that deserve medals and accolades, are the people she left behind, the ones she couldn't save. Knowing her, Jane would accept the medal for them and not herself.
Hannah smiled. Knowing her, Jane would probably never wear that medal but keep it out on display somewhere close to her, to remind her to be better.
That was Jane, through and through. Hannah closed her eyes and slept.