Chapter 1
The dream was the same. The same flurry of images of the porthean holocaust. Then a human. Trapped in a small room. Lined with plain paneling and a computer console, with displays written in vaguely familiar script. Then the room opened up and she found herself in a vast coliseum, facing the night sky, surrounded by a wall of encroaching flames. Hovering above her was a Reaper. The Reaper activated its main weapon. About to fire. Then the two spoke, speaking in gibberish. The Reaper's weapon powered down. The Reaper flew away, flying into a lake of fire that was above them in the sky. The flames surged forward, converging on the person until it was consumed in flames.
She awoke. The dream, the same dream, was over. She was awake now. She much preferred the immolation in her dreams to the dull, endless agony of the waking word. She reached beside her, hoping against all there would be a warm body next to hers. But she knew there wouldn't be even before her fingers grasped empty air.
She got out of bed and stepped towards her bedroom window. She peered out, watching shuttles flying by. A few buildings were covered by scaffolding, still repairing the work done by Sovereign's attack. Her apartment was almost empty. She had a bed, a sofa, a cheap vid screen and dinner table set. Barely the basics. Her walls were plain, not even adorned by generic wallpaper. Her tiled floor had no carpets of rugs. The only item of comfort was a crappy acoustic guitar, leaning against a wall across her sofa. It was gathering dust, but she never spent much time here.
She showered. The warm water failing to enliven her. After showering she put on her uniform. Everything was a chore. Even her Duncan Hills coffee failed to stimulate her. Today would be different. She had a job to do. Well, she'd always had a job. But today, she had an actual assignment. It was a great relief. Anything to distract her from the boredom of waiting for the mission to continue. Having to reread her report from the Bahak mission. Of course, nothing could stop her thinking of Ashley.
She met Traynor, Liara and Dr. Chandra in a meeting room they'd rented for the day. They all stood when she came in. She shook hands with the doctor. Liara gave her a restrained hug. She was shocked how Liara's hug made her feel. The warmth that spread through her. Another reminder of how much she missed Ashley. Traynor stood away from her, her hands behind her back, like she was afraid of her.
To make it worse, they asked her how she was doing. She mumbled a response and sat down at the conference table. Traynor had ordered some catering, a fruit and vegetable tray along with some coffee. Her favourite, Duncan Hills. She inhaled the aroma, expecting the fine vapours to spread warmth through her but nothing happened. She sipped. The familiar, long-loved flavour was somehow lacking.
She sat down, and together they started going through troves of Prothean data both old and new. She translated. While what she translated was largely tedious, it felt good to have her mind stimulated, focused on a task rather than waiting. A distraction from her pain and constant headaches. Prothean script was highly efficient, each character was unique, it left no room for ambiguities or possibilities for typographical errors. In English, a straight vertical line could be mistaken for the number '1', or an uppercase 'I' or a lowercase 'l'. Prothean had no such problems.
Though they still found their quest for understanding frustrated. Though she knew the words, she didn't always know what the words referred to. She had no cultural reference point. She read a word which came out as Tooshinnah. She could not tell what this word referred to. It could be a weapon, a tool, a planet, a piece of clothing or a person. She couldn't discern the context, either. This was important on many levels. She'd deciphered a text and they had no idea what it meant. The tulomorian spy entered the enemy's camp and said to the vanksher 'I didn't know your parnaps could glow.' Was this a joke? A fable? An excerpt from a historical or fictional work? They could never know.
Most of what they read through were written at the time of the Reaper genocide. The texts recording the endless death and the depths of madness they succumbed to. Kara wondered aloud if the Reapers had deliberately done this. Leaving just enough information for the races to fear the coming of the next Cycle but eradicating any data that might proof useful in combating the Cycles.
"Psychological warfare. Doesn't sound like something a machine would do." Traynor said.
"Why not? You don't have to feel emotions to be able to learn how to exploit them." Kara said. "Psychopaths and sociopaths don't experience emotions but are good at manipulating other people's emotions."
"Maybe the Reapers do feel emotions, on a level we do not understand." Liara said. "Differing lifespans influences how we process emotions. How we process our emotions differs from how salarians or humans process theirs. Perhaps it's similar with the Reapers."
"But they're machines. They can't experience emotions." Dr. Chander said.
"That we know of." Traynor said. "How can we make that assumption? We know next to nothing about the Geth, and even less about the Reapers."
Kara looked away from the datapad and at the opposite wall. The wall was plain, green wall paper with only a generic alien landscape painting.
"I wonder…" She said. "What it would be like if a machine were to go insane?"
A hushed silence was her answer.
"Why would you want to know?" Dr. Chandra asked. "These things are monstrous."
"On Illos, the VI I talked to said we have to defeat the Reapers, not understand them. How can you defeat something you don't understand? It's impossible. If they invade, we don't stand a chance if we fight them militarily. Millions of years of ashes tells us this. The only way to defeat them is to understand them. Once we understand them, we can learn their weaknesses."
"Maybe," Traynor advanced, "There would be some kind of logic to it, but twisted or pursued to an absurd end. Reducito ad absurdum."
"Logical insanity." Kara said, remembering their first debriefing about the Prothean ziggurat.
During the meeting she noticed Dr. Chandra kept glancing towards Liara. Liara pretended not to notice, but she did not seem to mind. It was...cute. Traynor kept glancing her way too. But she always looked away when Kara turned her head towards her. She could see the concern and apprehension masquerading behind her professionalism. When she looked back at her, Samantha didn't avert her gaze. Kara saw the warmth and compassion in those eyes. But she was fine. Why couldn't everyone see that?
They adjourned their meeting hours later, having eaten and drank their way through the catering. The work had allowed her headache to shrink to the background but they were all tired. Dr. Chandra asked Liara to accompany him to dinner which Liara accepted, a hint of a smile on her face. Kara and Samantha stayed behind to clean up. They said nothing as they disposed of their rubbish and gathered their datapads. This was the first time they'd been alone since the mission to Aratoht. There was a heavy silence, and Kara found Samantha was still avoiding looking at her.
"Listen, Kara," Samantha said when they finished cleaning. She stiffened and gritted her teeth. "I'm sorry about..." She trailed away. "I hope you don't blame me."
"You're not the one I blame." Kara said. Samantha looked at her for first time, not looking away. She saw Samantha's eyes glaze over with...was that pity? Don't you dare look at me like that.
"Look, If you ever need to talk to someone, we're here for you." She said.
"Thanks, but I'm fine." She answered. They left the room together. You're here. But for how long? You're here for me until you'll end up dead, at the worst possible time.
"Any plans?" Traynor asked.
"Not really. Just hang out in my flat." She made sure to answer in such a way that made clear company wasn't welcome.
"Well…okay. But if you change your mind, give me a shout." Traynor said as they parted. Kara gave her a perfunctory goodbye. Maybe I should do something. There wasn't much work she could do right now. Her headaches were increasing in intensity. No matter how many aspirin pills she shoved down her throat, they didn't make a difference.
It was still something of a relief to get back to her apartment. She played the guitar and lost herself for a time but her headache continued to gnaw at her. Maybe she should've taken Traynor's invitation to go out. Her Omni-Tool buzzed suddenly. It was Jack calling her.
"Yeah." She answered. What does she want?
"Hey, what's up." Jack said. Something was off about her voice. She didn't answer for several seconds.
"Hey, you there or what?" Jack said. Christ, she's drunk.
"What do you want?"
"I wanna hang out." Jack said. Kara sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Why?" Kara asked.
"Fuck you mean why?" Jack said. "Figure you could use a good time."
She looked at the guitar on her lap and then around her empty apartment. Maybe she could do with some time away, something to distract her, if only to bury her headache in the back of her mind.
"Okay, fine." Kara said. "Do you know where I'm staying?"
"Yeah, I'm in the lobby already"
She buzzed Jack in. She wasn't looking forward to this, but it was a change of routine. Even with how much she'd worked these past few weeks, she was miserable. Something far beyond miserable. Maybe some good would come of this. Maybe she would actually manage to have fun. She greeted Jack and let her in. She was wearing a form fitting outfit that left little to the imagination. She did have a nice body but she was so heavily tattooed that they counteracted whatever attraction one might feel to her form, but Kara suspected this was intentional. She was letting her hair grow, a black layer of peachfuzz covering her head. She was swigging from a nearly empty bottle of bourbon and her breath stank of the noxious drink. Kara felt a disturbing tingle in the back of her throat.
"Want some?" Jack offered the bottle. Kara pushed her hand away and turned away from her. Jack walked in, closing the door behind her. "I don't drink."
"Fine. More for me." Jack swigged, her balance less than assured. "Wait, you don't drink? How the fuck do you have fun?"
"I have my own ways." Kara said, she crossed her arms, already regretting her rash decision to let her in.
"Yeah, I'll bet you do." Jack said, giving her a knowing look. Kara rolled her eyes. I didn't mean it like that.
"So, what did you wanna do?" Kara said.
"I figured we could go to the Purgatory. Only after you change, though. Those clothes are fucking lame. You look like shit."
Kara realized she was wearing the same set of baggy clothes she usually wore. Maybe she should dress up for a change, maybe it would help her feel better.
"Okay. Lemme shower and change and shit." She said.
Jack sat down on the sofa, spreading her legs on the sofa. "Sure you don't want my help?" She said with a lecherous wink, downing some more bourbon.
"Screw you." Kara said. Why am I doing this? Jack and I barely get along. But maybe a bad night out is better than another night in. What's the worst thing that could happen? I have to deal with her stupid drunk antics and shitty club music for a while, then come back here for some shut-eye. It can't be worse than Hell Month during N7 training. Sure beats doing nothing.
She showered and changed into an outfit of a loose fitting tank and skirt. It took her a while to realize this was the same outfit she and Ashley had gone out clubbing. She didn't bother with makeup. She was out to kill time, not win fashion awards or get laid.
"Lookin' good for once." Jack said when she came out of her bedroom. Her eyes briefly looked her up before locking on her bottle. She drank the last of it and let the bottle fall to the floor.
"Pick it up." Kara said, staring at her.
"It's just-" Jack started to object.
"I said pick it up. Don't leave that kind of trash in my place."
"What's your fucking problem?" Jack said as she sat up and grabbed the empty bottle. "No, don't answer. We'll be here all fucking week. Let's go."
Jack linked her free arm with hers. Being this close, Jack reeked of booze. She hated the smell. For two reasons. It reminded her of the youth she spent drowning in the abyss of her addictions. The other part was the smell was still enticing to her. No matter how many memories she had of selling her body or being tortured by withdrawal or the burning fire of her self-loathing, there was still something enticing. She remembered the sweet rush of drugs and booze, the bliss of a high, the ecstasy of intoxication. It was a part she had to fight every day. In the war against her own addiction, there was no time for shoreleave or leaves of absence. She was exhausted. But she still had many more miles to go before she'd earned her sleep.
The club was pulsating with loud music, the pulsating base felt like her temples were being banged y a dozen tiny hammers. They turned some heads. Or, Jack turned some heads. If any looked at her it was an afterthought, she was dull and prosaic next to Jack's singular appearance. Jack continued to hold her arm and headed straight for the bar. Jack ordered two shots of bourbon. Kara ordered flavoured ice water.
Jack shook her head. "You're so fucking lame. Lighten up."
Kara ignored the comment. She didn't have to justify herself to Jack, and this certainly wasn't the right place to have a serious conversation. The barkeeper served them their drinks. Jack drowned both shots of bourbon before Kara began sipping from her water.
"Let's go." Jack grabbed her arm and led her onto the dancefloor, leaving her drink behind. She almost tripped and pulled her arm back. Why did I agree to this?
Jack found a spot and started dancing, gyrating her body in time to the music. Jack lost herself, closing her eyes and wildly moving her body. Kara floundered, moving her hips and shoulders. She didn't know how to dance and it showed. She stuck out. She felt inadequate, as if she were intruding in a place she didn't belong. Ashley had managed to make her dancing ineptitude something to revel in, to laugh at. Here and now, the effect was the opposite. She stayed close to Jack because she didn't know what else to do. She reminded herself she was here to have fun.
Jack suddenly remembered she was here. Her eyes opened and met Kara's. Jack smiled. She knelt forward, her mouth near Kara's ear. She could almost taste the alcohol on her breath. "Relax. Let me show you."
Jack grabbed Kara's hands on placed them on her waist. Her skin was hot but she felt no affinity touching her bare flesh. She felt like a hooked fish being reeled in. But she didn't feel like resisting. At the end of the line was the chance to feel something other than pain. Jack's arms wrapped around her and their bodies were close. Jack started gyrating her hips and she eventually matched her dance partner's rhythm. This kinda feels goods. Jack smiled and leaned her face forward.
"That's better." She said into Kara's ear. Jack licked her ear.
Before she knew what was happening, Jack's mouth covered hers, her tongue shoving it's way inside her mouth. She was about to push her away. Booze! I can taste her booze! I can't have it but I want it! I need it! She didn't push Jack away, instead she desperately held Jack close and tried to drink from her mouth. She tasted only the lingering aftertaste, but that was enough to disarm her caution. She was in a desert, desperately trying to squeeze a drop of water out of an empty waterskin. I Know it's bad but I need it! I need it! I need it! I need it!
She awoke and her hand reached out and felt a warm body. She snuggled up to the sleeping body next to hers. Ash was alive, it was just a bad dream. The body felt different somehow, but she'd just woken up, still drowsy. "Love you, Ashley." She murmured. The body tensed and pushed her away. Kara opened her eyes and saw Jack's naked body scrambling to get away from her.
"Oh fuck." She said, no longer sleepy.
Jack stood and walked away from the bed, she walked towards the window, leaning on the frame and peering outside. The light from the window framed her naked, tattooed body in an odd way. Like she was a deformed icon. She was breathing hard, trying to hold her anger in.
"I'm sorry, Jack." She said, not knowing what else to say.
Jack didn't answer. Kara felt ashamed. From their ill-fated dalliance, to what she'd just done. Jack was right to be mad. She would accept whatever castigation Jack sent her way for she deserved it. I should've gone out with Traynor. Jack turned and started putting on her clothes. Kara could think of nothing to say and avoided looking at her. It was probably for the best. Whatever she would say would be insulting and banal, and would tear the tenuous bonds of restraint holding Jack back. Jack left her alone. Had her apartment an old-fashioned door, it would've slammed shut.
She got out of bed, stepping over her discarded clothes from the previous night. She went to the washroom. She filled the sink with cold water and splashed her face once the basin had been filled. With Jack gone she realized she had a dry, sour taste in her mouth. Like she was hungover, even though she hadn't drunk anything. You're thirsty, aren't you? She looked at herself in the mirror. A billowing bile of self loathing built up in her throat. She punched her reflections. She cried out in pain, glass shards digging into her flesh, the sharp pain from her knuckles hitting the solid wall behind the mirror. Blood pooled into the sink, mingling with the water.
"Fuck." She screamed, looking at her bleeding hand, blood seeping out from many of the same scars she'd opened weeks earlier at Kaidan's funeral. She sunk her hand into the water, increasing the severity of the stinging pain. Ashley wasn't here to help her. Tears distorted her vision and she couldn't stop them from rolling down her face, no more than she could stop the bleeding. She was alone.
