Summary: The casualties of war are often unfathomable, but pity not the dead. For it is the living that must carry on with their wounds, tossing and turning in their beds with only ghosts for company. And it certainly doesn't help when sleep is interrupted by insufferable drones.

For the Prompt: Liara/Javik. What are they up to post-ME? Are they working on that book together? How is Javik adjusting to peacetime?
Fluff, angst, and/or smut (as long as it's all consensual) are all welcome!

Disclaimers:
1) Beta'd by both shretl (Girlundone) and Marie_Fanwriter over on Ao3.
2) Property of Bioware. I own nothing.


Watching the primitives scramble to gain their bearings was just as sad as it was entertaining.

In his haste, and at the order of the 'Spectre' human, the pilot managed to get the ship marooned on some backwater world. The Commander had been left behind, causing an undeniable rift in the crew; silent yet impossible to ignore. The remaining male Spectre regretted giving the order- though he hid that fact from all those that he could- and the pilot was remorseful for following said order. The turian quietly resented that it had been given, while the quarian and the large human tried- failingly- to assuage the tension with humor. The asari glued herself to the many screens she watched to weave her web, and Javik... washed his hands.

He scrubbed away the residue of the ship, the jungle, and the rampant emotions of all those around him. They were clogging his mind, his senses, making it hard to think with their constant whining.

Javik often felt the need to escape the ever-present undercurrent that they all hid so poorly, and he found it in the sunlight and fresh air just outside their vessel. So simple, but these two qualities of planetside excursions were luxuries he couldn't have stopped to enjoy during his own cycle.

They were... very welcoming. Refreshing.

Long walks through the foliage quickly became a pastime he learned to indulge in order to escape the shipful of brooding primitives. Pressing his fingertips against the bark of a tree revealed a myriad of moments gone by. The growth and decay of little beings, the hints of sunlit years and rainy seasons, and the signatures of all the wildlife that had gone by. Despite many of them having stopped to urinate on said tree.

One day, the male engineer from the drivecore approached as they came up on his position near the tree line during his rotation on guard duty, interrupting Javik's thoughts with his shrill voice and strange accent. "D'you see anything we should look out for?"

Javik chose to indulge him, just that once.

"A large beast," he had muttered forebodingly as he pictured the largest animal his wandering fingers could detect in the forest's recent history. "With teeth only dwarfed by the size of its claws. It wanders by, nightly." He didn't bother to stifle his amusement at how the thought of a predator banished the blood from the human's face, making him starkly pale in the otherwise warm afternoon light. Of course, he wouldn't tell the engineer that the animal he described only came up to his knees and was strictly herbivorous.

The primitives had come to rely on his ability for more than simply sensing potential threats. The trees harbored the sounds of human children in their roots, laughing, of their parents cursing and spitting and smiling while they bolted together temporary lodgings.

"Eden Prime," Javik told the crew. A human colony devastated by the Reapers, settlements uprooted and- by Javik's standards- outdated communication tech destroyed. They had landed somewhere along the planet's equator, south from the settlement where he was found still frozen in his stasis pod.

Where he last heard the cries of his dying race. Of Victory's last words to him.

'You will be the voice of our people.'

Futile words from Victory unto Vengeance. Marooned on a planet, what could he possibly avenge?

Leaving the engineer to peer warily in the woods, Javik turned from his interrupted interlude and headed back to the ship. Upon his return, he'd hoped to take refuge from the crew in the lounge, as his quarters had been saturated with water during the crash. A poor choice, it seemed, to go to a room filled with alcohol when the primitives were so fond of taking to it when their hormones fluctuated.

To make matters worse, the asari followed him there, reeking of sleeplessness and lurking by the doorway.

"I got her killed once already for ignoring a good order." For some reason, the pilot chose to lament his troubles to Javik. A glass rim pressed to his lips. "And she's probably dead now because I followed a bad one."

"In my cycle," Javik began, having not yet touched his neglected glass on the countertop. "Questioning the orders you were given meant certain death at either the hands of the enemy or your superior. In most cases, the former was preferable."

The disabled human set his glass down and pinned Javik with a hard stare. "Has anyone told you that you suck at pep talks?"

Javik canted his head to the side, his first set of eyes taking in the curved spine and slumped shoulders of a defeated soldier. The second set read his imbalanced chemical signatures, old signs of depression likely present for years, but more prominent now. The severity was… more than Javik had expected the human to be experiencing. It had spiked when that irksome machine who played at being human had powered down.

Javik shifted, still discomfited by the pilot's inane attraction to it. "No. If it is empty platitudes you seek, talk to the quarian."

A breath of air exhaled from his pointed nose in what might have been wry laughter. "I don't know why I bothered," the human groused at him, and threw back his glass, downing the rest of the liquid contents. Fragile bones creaked as he slowly lifted himself from his seat and hobbled away to sulk elsewhere.

After the uneven steps had disappeared down the corridor, the asari let out a sigh and closed tired, bloodshot eyes while still leaning in the doorway. "I know that nearly everything you've experienced since waking up has been hard on you Javik, but a little kindness would go a long way, especially now."

He snorted, lacing his fingers together on the bartop, unimpressed with her disappointment in him."'Kindness' will not get us off this rock, asari," he replied simply.

The asari laughed in a bitter-sounding tone. "I should've known being upgraded to 'Dr. T'Soni' wouldn't last. Your esteem is very fickle, isn't it?"

"What is it you want?"

She didn't move from her post, only stared him down with her expressive blue eyes for several heartbeats. Various emotions flickered across them- curiosity, annoyance, worry... but disappointment remained most prominent. "Did you get the message I sent you? I wrote an introduction for the book and attached it. I was hoping to get your thoughts before I continue-"

"Will a book get us off this rock?"

"Excuse me?"

"You spend your time writing books instead of scavenging for parts and food. Time spent locked away in your room is time added to our stay on this planet."

The asari pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Goddess, and what are you doing besides patronising Joker? For your information, I just returned from the jungle with James and Garrus. We found a derelict shuttle and took what we could from it," she snapped, as if that somehow proved whatever point she was trying to make. "Now, I'm going back to my room to finish my introduction with or without your input."

The door cycled shut between them and Javik was left mercifully alone with his thoughts. He convinced himself it was better that way.


It was four months before the Normandy could rise from her would-be grave and take to the sky. Even then, she only limped, hardly able to achieve FTL. All they could do was travel to the location of the nearest comm-buoy -another two months at their current speed- to get a distress call out. A task made more difficult when the buoy they found was non-functional.

"EDI could've fixed it in no time," the 'Joker' human complained as he tried and failed to keep his eyes from wandering toward the entrance of the War Room where they had gathered, no doubt picturing the elevator down the hall. The machine lay motionless in the AI core below them.

"I know," the Spectre agreed as he cast a look of pity at the pilot. "But we don't have her right now."

"What do we have?" The 'Traynor' human queried, her tone determined despite the weight of futility that her question carried.

"You have me," the quarian chimed in, her voice admittedly strong despite her withered appearance. Her opaque mask was fixed on the holographic comm-buoy that rotated at the center of the table they had assembled around. "And Garrus," she finished with a nod in the turian's direction, his skeletal frame looking no better than hers.

Rations were running low for all, but none looked as decrepit as the turian and quarian.

Dextro supplies were limited to begin with and after months of rationing, they both had to take to their respective quarters, lest they move too much and burn precious calories. This meeting was the first time Javik had seen either of them in weeks.

The purple envirosuit hung off the quarian's limbs like old, loose skin and the turian's armor had become too heavy for him to bear any longer. Additionally, the lack of nutrition did no favors for his damaged leg- an injury he had acquired during the final push with the Commander.

Watching them waste away made Javik thankful for his people's ability to go days without food. One ration bar every three days was more than enough for him. If only he had the more advanced supplements of his time, with those he could have gone five or six days without nourishment.

The 'Kaidan' human pursed his strange, flappy lips and his eyes shifted between the two emaciated dextro-aliens. "You sure?" he questioned, scepticism heavy in his tone, though without a hint of condescension. "That's asking a lot considering…" he faded off, allowing the poor condition of their bodies to speak for him.

A quick look was exchanged between the turian and quarian before the former nodded. His mandible shifted into what Javik assumed was supposed to be a smirk, though it was absent of its usual cockiness. "We've got it, Kaidan," assured the turian. "If I could get the Thanix operating at one-hundred thirty-seven percent above the manufacturer's recommended guidelines, then Tali and I can fix a damn comm-buoy."

"What happens if the others are damaged?" The large, 'James' human posited, his bulky arms folded across his chest.

"We have Glyph," the asari offered, her blue eyes flashing as she leaned forward to brace her hands on the table.

"Yes, Doctor T'soni?" The mentioned VI immediately zipped to her side but was promptly ignored.

"Glyph can leave the ship without harm," she continued. "And it can amplify our distress signal, if need be."

"That is correct," the VI unhelpfully interjected. "I have been outfitted with several versions of mass effect software, which allows me to act as a booster to communication distance parameters." The VI whizzed away from its owner to hover beside the holographic image before them. "A helpful feature for the Shadow Broker when Doctor T'soni requires-"

"Thank you, Glyph," the asari cut in with a curt tone. "That should be sufficient to get a message to Earth."

"Assuming there are still people there to receive it," the large human countered without heat. A measured look was exchanged first between him and the asari before it traveled around the table, ending with the Spectre. The resultant silence screamed with the fears none of them dared to voice. Trepidation pricked at Javik's skin like the pins and needles of a sleeping limb.

"Alright," the Spectre agreed slowly before a long sigh left him through a weary smile. "Let's do it. Dismissed."

Work had begun immediately, but it was slow due to the mechanics' dwindling health. Ultimately, it would take a week before the first distress call could go out. During that week of idle waiting, Javik found himself sorely missing the jungle. Now, marooned in space, there were no more trees whispering in the wind, only idle chatter of the primitives as they flitted nervously about. Instead of visionary images of biology in action, he was now just privy to the chemical and hormonal spikes of the lesser races.

It was so maddening that it made even the asari's presence tolerable. In his boredom, he read the introduction she'd sent him… twice. It certainly wasn't the worst thing he'd read, even if it lacked the finer nuances that was once present in the writings of his own people.

And, at the very least, there were no signs of Reapers. Had the Commander done it? He did not dare to hope. Not until he could be sure.

The answer to that would come late into their last month while adrift near the now-working comm-buoy, when their distress signal was finally answered. After that, they were tracked down by a passing Alliance frigate. The Normandy was attached to the ship and towed the rest of the way back to what the humans have come to call the 'Sol' system.

Fortunately for the turian and quarian, the frigate had dextro provisions for them to eat, enough that they would survive another week of travel.

During the trip back to populated skies, the Spectre spoke with the 'Hackett' human over comm-link, with the rest of the crew gathered around like children waiting for their share of salarian liver. Javik stood aside by the door, quietly listening for news of the galaxy's fate.

The Reapers had been defeated, each and every one apparently falling in the wake of that same red blast that swept through the galaxy and knocked the Normandy offline. As far as they could tell, anyway.

Javik wasn't quite sure how to process that information yet.

"Any word on Shepard, sir?" was the first question posed by the 'Kaidan' human. Collectively, the room stilled, each pair of binocular-set eyes aimed at the speaker from which the gift-bearer's voice would fall from.

"Still missing, I'm afraid," is what the 'Hackett' human told them with a matter-of-fact tone as if giving a simple mission report. "If that changes, you'll be the first to know."

"Garrus." Dr. T'soni looked to the turian with pitying eyes, but he kept his attention on the comm-speaker in front of him.

"And the Primarch?" he asked, seemingly determined not to meet the sympathetic gazes that were leveled at him. The quarian, too, had forgone watching the hologram to put her focus on him instead.

"Alive." the comm reported. "Trebia was the first relay to be brought online. Primarch Victus left with the turian military almost two weeks ago."

The shoulders that bracketed the turian's cowl dropped slightly, relieved. He muttered a quick 'understood' before he turned and left without another word. His tall, emaciated frame stepped around Javik on spindly legs and exited, not bothering to look back.

His mood would not improve for the duration of his stay on the Normandy. And when they docked at Earth, Javik found that his own would not either.

During his cycle, 'self-preservation is the first principle of our nature,' was a common phrase among his people. By the time he was born, artisans were dead. Masons were gone. Scholars, extinct. Those who lived were those who could fight. Even the scientists viewed their field as a minor, a necessary add-on in addition to their aim.

There was no sense of rebuilding. Only survival. By the time of his birth, his people had long ago decided to put the idea of reconstruction as a future bridge to cross when they came to it. That decision was made before the protheans realized the galaxy as they knew it would collapse, still miles away from that bridge and it too would rust and dissolve away in their absence like dust in the wind.

Javik… wasn't sure how to feel about what he saw on Earth.

Scaffolding had been erected alongside buildings. Pristine glass windows reflected the image of healthy trees planted outside. And, most shocking of all, races intertwined; asari, salarian, humans, krogan, quarians, all working together to mold the remaining ashes into something resembling what they once were. Turians were absent, gone from the planet weeks ago. The first to escape their Earthly prison, as it were.

They had landed in the city called London and, naturally, the first place the crew ventured to was the last place the Commander had been seen. Javik trailed behind, not wanting to intermix with their rampant emotions. He knew their pain as he had felt it himself countless times before.

Blood pours from the slits in their throats. Vacant eyes watch him, questioning him. They aren't his men anymore. They haven't been for some time.

Javik paused, crouching down to press his fingers into the soil. Closing his bottom set of eyes, his top set remained opened to take in the sensations that tingled against his skin. Tension ran through his ungloved hand: adrenaline, fear, pain. Languages flooded his mind. Various dialects of not only humans, but other races. Asari, salarian, human-

"No matter what happens here, you know I love you. And I always will."

Javik focused on the words, felt the fear that coated them as they spoke. It was an unguarded emotion, one he hadn't often sensed from the individual, though he knew she felt it during quiet moments. Desperation.

With both sets of eyes now open, Javik stood from his crouch and began walking in the direction he sensed the voice. He moved several paces before he stooped to feel the ground again.

Terror. Weariness. Unwavering resolve.

He moved again, following the energy along the thin, sightless path it created. Cries rang in his head with each touch to the ground, though silence reigned supreme around him.

Heavy footfalls of scurrying combat boots. Gunfire. The moans of husks.

A Reaper trumpets and his vision is colored crimson.

Javik stopped and his eyes dropped to his feet. There, half-buried in the blackened ground, a memory shard poked out. It was so unassuming that anyone else would have likely missed it, leaving it there as its last resting place.

"Are you all right?" Dr. T'soni approached, careful to keep some distance between them.

Javik turned at the voice, spotting the asari, as well as the rest of the crew, watching him. They had apparently noticed his behavior and ceased their own searches to follow his own.

"The Commander was right here," Javik replied, ignoring her question.

"She was?" The 'James' human stepped forward.

"I sense terror here," he explained. "Not only from the Commander. All around. Those who rushed to their deaths." Javik turned his gaze onto the quiet titan that lay dormant in the distance, still hearing the blare of its firing mechanism before it launched what was likely one of its final attacks. He tore his gaze from his old enemy to regard the half-buried shard, not daring to touch it again. "The Commander dropped my memory shard."

"This?" The asari bent to pull the shard from the soil, still intact despite the abuse it had received. As resilient as the nightmares it harbored. She held it up between them, but Javik only blinked at it. After a moment, she extended her arm to offer it back, clearly thinking it as something he wanted to keep.

Javik turned and moved on, ignoring the proffered shard in favor of the Commander's energy trail, faint as it was and growing fainter.

"The Commander did not fall here," he informed, hearing their collective steps following from behind. Heavy boots from the male humans, light steps from the quarian and asari, a limp from the uncharacteristically silent, wounded turian. They moved as a troop, following Javik as he pursued the signatures until he stopped at the place where they were drowned out by a great burst of energy. The Crucible, he knew. "Her signature ends here."

The turian hobbled forward, hiding his pain behind fluttering mandibles. His long fringe brushed the top of his carapace as he tilted his head back to stare up at the clearing sky. The gaze was symbolic. There was nothing to see as the Citadel, caught in Earth's orbit, had long since begun its rotation around the planet.

No words would soothe his pain, so Javik offered none. He allowed them to follow the Commander's final moments. He could do nothing else but leave her crew to their grieving. Maybe she considered him as part of it, but he wasn't sure he agreed. His place was in the Cronian Nebula, among the ashes of his fallen soldiers.

He would join them soon.


A/N: 'Self-preservation is the first principle of our nature,' quote by Alexander Hamilton.
Thank you for reading. :)