Title: Tag Team.
Fandom: Mass Effect.
Spoilers: ME1, ME2, Mass Effect: Redemption. Playing very loosely with canon for obvious reasons. Events happen out of order and/or differently then in the original story.
Pairings: Jane Shepard/John Shepard, John Shepard/Jack.
Warnings: I'm sorry, but there will be major character deaths. Yes, plural. Oh, yeah, additionally implied and possibly explicit incest between siblings. Otherwise, vanilla with depiction of mild graphic violence, swearing and angst, lots and lots of angst.
AN: Alternative Universe where Jane and John Shepard are twins. After surviving Mindoir they go hand in hand trough the N7 program and service on the Normandy. After the Collector attack they seem to be separated forever... but we'll get to that. I suddenly got the inspiration to write these two after seeing a great artwork with the Shepard twins fist-bumping each other. Kudos to park0g on dA for making it! As per usual I couldn't restrain myself to a one-shot so this is going to take a while.
Tag Team
Chapter 1. Jane: The Fall
The squad morale had been at all time low. After two months of uninterrupted skirmishes and hopeless attacks on the entrenched batarian positions the Alliance reinforcements finally arrived. The fresh marine corps had breached the fortified settlements with the help of heavy air support. But by that time it was already too late. The bulk of batarian slavers had evacuated to their small fleet of ships in orbit witch quickly made its escape through the Mass Relay. The resistance was compromised of rigged automated defenses and suicide squads. Once the last remaining slavers were killed, the cannons had been dismantled the full picture of what had happened crashed down on the regular troops and officers alike.
Most of the colony population was killed, the rest – taken. The bodies were unceremoniously piled up in the storage units and barns. The duty of identifying the dead had weighed heavily on the most hardcore veterans saying nothing of the green soldiers.
Marsden's squad had been tasked with patrolling the south range of Sillian forest. Only several hundred meters closest to the temporary outpost before the engineers fix the dish and link up with the satellites to map the whole area for possible batarian survives hiding in the woods. Sillian forest was spanning hundreds of kilometers in all directions to the south. The colonist haven't gotten to clearing the space yet, there was enough farmland to go around on a relatively young and small colony.
As far as he could tell, there was no way anyone would be hiding in thees woods. It was too cold and too damp to wait out till spring. Even the natives would have trouble finding food or shelter at this time of year. Not to mention the predators.
Still this patrol duty should be a positive thing for his squad. Too much time had they spend rummaging through the ruble or helping the medics move the hermetically sealed body bags. A stroll through the woods seemed like a fairy tale next to the tragedy. A tragedy the avoided talking about. Marines were supposed to protect, save people, not sit on their collective asses and wait for help. Marsded grumbled in annoyance at himself. It was too late to beat up themselves or look to place blame. They all knew where the blame truly belonged and maybe someday, someday one of them would see justice done.
"Sarge, what was that?" the whisper suddenly came over his shoulder.
Hugo, his sniper, was pointing his optics past the clearing they were about to pass. Beyond that was a wall of ancient trees coupled with man-sized bushes. He could not see anything suspect, but Marsden grew to trust Hugo's intuition after said intuition saved his skin on more occasions her could count.
"Rhoddey, forward; Simmons and Kyd strafe left," he ordered raising up his Avenger.
They proceeded with caution leaving Hugo to take his place behind them. Sergeant moved to the left-most tree noticing that the canopy of low branches combined with the walls of shrubs had created a sort of a huge tent in the middle of the clearing. He lowered his rifle and reached with his arms to pray the bushes open when an angry growl came from behind.
"What the hell?" he muttered reaching back to his weapon, but before he could do that Hugo's voice sounded in his transmitter.
"Don't shoot, guys. It's not slavers. It's..."
If Marsden did not known his sniper for so long and wan not absolutely sure there was nothing that could surprise the man, her would sweat Hugo was shocked speechless. But after one of the bush walls fell back – it was man-made after all – the sight before him was enough to prove him wrong. Now the Sarge himself was speechless.
"Holy fuck, it's kids..." the stupefied voice came from the burly giant Simmons on the left.
In the furthest corner of the natural tent was a pair of teenagers not older then sixteen. The boy was laying on a makeshift bed out of giant leaves and shrubbery. He was visibly ill: his features were hardened by hunger, his face was pale and sweaty and his whole body was shivering with fever. But before him on one knee ready to strike was a girl. Her bright red hair was messy, torn at one side. She was also looking pale, the traces of hunger, dirt and blood on her face. Yet she was confidently holding a long army knife in one hand steadying a heavy rock in another. The rabid expression on her face had only one message to give: you move any closer and you die.
It was unbelievable. How did two kids survive out here? How long have they been on the run?
"Um... Hello. My name is Sergeant Marsden. I'm with the Alliance Marine corps. There's nothing to be afraid anymore. The slavers are gone. You are safe now."
"Prove it." the snarl the girl had spit out had been searing with distrust.
"Look, we are all wearing Alliance armor, surely you have seen Alliance soldiers before."
Sarge paused seeing how that was not convincing not only the girl, but himself. Her was thoughtful a moment. Who knows what horrors these kids had to witness. The only thing he could do was to be honest.
"Okay there, kid. I'm going to put my rifle on the ground right here." He proceeded to follow what he been saying very slowly. "Now I'm going put my helmet next it it. See, no weapons? Now I'm going to slowly go and check on the boy."
Seeing the heightening tension in the girls pose and the whoosh of panic in her eyes he continued:
"He's obviously sick. He needs medical attention. Through I'm not a medic I can give him some medi-gel and look if he's been seriously injured. You care about him a great deal to be willing to protect him so much, don't you?"
"He broke his foot." the words came out as if against her will. She had to be brave, to keep watch, but... These people did not look like slavers. She moved slightly to the side and gestured with her knife to the boy. "Go."
Marsden was as far removed from medicine as any professional soldier would be. He knew how to administer medi-gel, how to scan for serious injuries, how to patch up a comrade so that he doesn't die before passing him on to the medics. Still that was enough to conclude that the boy really needed more then what he could offer. His foot was straightened and fixed with several branches and what looked like strips of his shirt in a makeshift casket. It looked fine for the moment especially after a generous dose from Sergeants midi-gel's dispenser.
The fever was another thing altogether. It was completely out of his expertise. Though it looked really serious.
"His foot will be fine, the casket had been done nicely. His fever, however, is very dangerous. He needs to go see a doctor. I will call for an Evac to pick us up." He glanced at the wincing girl, pained expression spread across her face. "You can listen to the call as long as you give me the knife. I promise there is nothing to fear from now on."
The girl considered him for a while, then sighed, spun the knife in her palm so that the handle was facing him and extended her hand. After Marsden took it she plopped on the ground slouching against the trunk of the tree and hugging her legs. She looked like a normal if quite a bit dirty teenaged girl. Sergeant smiled. This is what marines were supposed to do.
The next words out of her mouth shattered the peaceful image in his head.
"There are two batarian pieces of scum laying in a ditch to the west. One has a wound in his chest, the other has a slit throat."
She said it without any expression like she was reciting a well memorized lesson.
"Did you find them?"
The girl did not answer only glancing at the knife in his hand. Sergeant had to swallow. He looked back at his squad:
"Simmons, Kyd! Go find the bodies."
Then he turned back to the girl who was rocking back and forth slowly. After he requested for an Evac sitting next to her on the ground and, as promised, letting her hear every word, he turned and put a reassuring hand around the skinny shoulders. She flinched at the touch, but did not try to run away or throw the hand off.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Jane. Shepard, I think."
"And his?" he gestured at the boy.
"John."
"Are you brother and sister?"
"Dunno."
"Where could your parents be? How did you two ended up here?"
"We ran from the fire and screams. We tried to hide. We tried to hide here in the forest."
"What about your family?"
"Don't remember."
"What do you mean, girl?"
"Nothing before the forest. Don't remember. Had to survive. We did, didn't we?"
"Yes, you did." his big hand rested on the ruffled, patched red locks, patting the kid as gently as his hardened military soul could allow.
"And everything will be okay now? Johnny said it will be..."
"It will. It's over now, kid. You did well."
The girl broke down completely. She was sobbing uncontrollably into her hands until the Evac shuttle arrived.
Marsden checked up on the kids regularly during the next months. With the help of medics and field investigators the Alliance managed to piece together what had happened. The DNA test conclusively proven that Jane and John Shepard were siblings, fraternal twins. It also helped identify their next of kin. Unfortunately all the members of Shepard family had been confirmed killed during the attack on the nearest settlement to where the kids had been found.
John's fever was not as threatening as they through and his foot had been healing nicely. Physically the twins had been as good as it could be wished for. Psychologically on the other hand... The doctors said it was suppressed memories because of the trauma, but that was best case scenario. The amnesia could persist their whole lives. There was no way to tell.
Field investigators had reconstructed somewhat their story. According to the evidence they escaped the settlement after the first wave of slavers were already entrenched. The twins had to have witnessed all the horror of the slaughter. They disappeared into the forest moving for hidy-hole to hidy-hole. Two batarian scouts stashed in the ditch were killed almost a month ago. But all in all the kids had been hiding on their own for almost two.
The last time Sergeant visited the kids before being reassigned to another post they surprised him yet again. John and Jane resolutely standing next to each other thanked him once again and announced that they were going to join the Alliance military. He was very touched. The kids were going to be enrolled in a military school on Earth until they turned eighteen and could be enlisted. He was sure they had a bright future awaiting them.
"At least that's how uncle.. sorry, Captain Marsden had told the story to everyone who wanted to listen..."
Jane rubbed her eyes and reached out for the next bottle. It was empty. All the bottles were empty. Dammit.
She was half-laying across the desk reminiscing about the better times. The single tiny light from the lamp on the desk had barely illuminated the darkness of the room. The supply of alcohol could have been better, but her biotics had robbed her of the blissful escape into drunken haze anyway. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Even on that horrible day of all days back on Mindoir, the day she still could not fully remember after all these years, even then her brother had been there for her.
He said it would be okay. Johnny said they could do it. Survive. Together. And they did! Together.
They tried to never, ever be apart again. They shared the Academy, N7 program, most of their military career. For a while they got separated on assignments and everything went straight to hell! John's unit was eaten by a goddamned giant worm! He himself barely survived. Maybe the determination of Mindoir had played a part. After leading several successful Black Ops missions Jane had to go to Torfan. The damned Strategists knew who to send when a job needed to be done. She eliminated every enemy in her path. They were batarians. It was sweet. So sweet that she did not care about the losses or rules. They all had to die, all of them.
John would have found another way. He always wanted to be the model poster child for Alliance propaganda. The virtuous and honorable! The paragon of goodness, puppies and lollipops!
She used to tease him about it, too. Even get into real fights over allowed strategy and the lines one should and shouldn't cross. That was fun.
Too late now. He was dead. Johnny left her and he was not coming back. Serving on the Normandy was without a doubt the best assignment they had, not in small part because they were together again. But she had lost him on that godforsaken day in the space above Alchera all the same. They wanted to eat dinner together, maybe play some vidgames. It's curious how much you miss the normal, meaningless things, but not until after you can't possibly do them anymore.
The attack caught her in the shower. Without giving a second thought about her nakedness, Jane busted through the door the second she identified the tremors as evasive maneuvers and hull hits rather then just some turbulence – Joker was way too good a pilot to degrade himself with turbulence anyway. She emerged in the captain quarters still covered with old fashioned by galactic standards Earth soap spray and clutching a much smaller towel then she needed in one hand.
John was there already clad in his N7 armor with a blue tint line along the left arm as opposed to her red. He grabbed his helmet form the desk and spun around to look at her. At the moment he could not care less about her nakedness either.
"We're under attack. Grab your gear, I'll be at the fire controls. Get Kaidan to stuff Joker in an escape pod or he will go down with the ship."
He rushed out of the room knowing she needed no other information. Grumbling at the rotten luck Jane hastily ran the towel over her body barely drying herself in the process. She darted to the locker at the other end of the room. The minimum passing time to put on armor for a N7 graduate is 5 minutes. This time Jane was done in three.
She stormed out of the room taking a b-line towards the armament controls. Kaidan was still fiddling with the console. It was an exercise in futility – the wiring in the wall behind him and all around the ceiling was burning. Jane heard a series of explosions as the ship shook violently. The old girl was done, without her main advantage – stealth and surprise – the Normandy was crippled with the first shot. They were dead in the water, or rather space.
"Lieutenant! Stop with this nonsense immediately! The ship is lost! There are better things to do now then this!"
Kaidan looked up at her wearing a shell shocked mask, he shook his head and got up.
"Sorry, Major, force of habit. My first thought was to return fire. What are your orders, ma'am?"
Jane used two precious minutes to think their situation through. John wanted Lieutenant to get Jeff off the bridge. They all knew the bastard would not leave the ship on his own: he neither could nor would want to. This was the right thing to do, the first priority would be to evacuate the crew, save as many as possible. But... John could use some help with the controls, the fires ought to have spread by now. She made her decision propelling her body into action.
"Alenko, you go help Commander with the fire controls and then see to the crew evacuation if he does not need you. I'll drag Joker's crippled ass outta here. Move it!"
"Aye, aye!"
They sped up through the burning, crumbling ship praying for the kinetic barrier not to give out on them. Kaidan tapered off, his white red armor disappearing among the smoke clouds.
Jane turned the corner to the closest flight of stairs. She was promptly greeted by an explosion, the wave of fire rolled down the steppes followed by collapsing chunks of inner hull and searing bits of wiring. The redhead had a split second to duck behind the main bulkhead. Pressing herself close to the heating up metal, she thanked her heightened by years of training reflexes. The flames were choked in the rubble, but she was surrounded by smoke. Jane could hear her own hard breathing steadily consuming the limited supply of air in her armor. The optics in her helmet whizzed trying to compensate for the smoke and extreme heat.
Being guided more by her knowledge of the ship and innate sense of direction rather then any of the other overwhelmed senses she stumbled up the other staircase. The sealed door slid open sucking what remaining air was left in the main level out into space.
The view was breathtaking. Normandy was adrift above the blue-white ice planet barrel-rolled at some point during the attack with its top towards the surface of the world. The whole of the CIC was obliterated. Outer hull was sliced off with bits and pieces still trailing after the struggling ship. However, Jane did not have time nor the desire to take in the view; the only fleeting thought she had was about how lucky it was that the energy weapon did not destroy the floor.
Sprinting in what was technically outer space with only magnetic boots keeping her from floating off into the distance had been particularly difficult. Shepard was moving agonizingly slowly and not for the lack of trying. As soon as she saw the shimmering blue wall of internal kinetic barrier keeping blocking off the bridge Jane let out a sigh of relief that she immediately stifled. The air supply was not unlimited for fuck sake, she had to restrain her breathing.
Shepard crossed the threshold feeling the speed and ease of movement returning. Pilot was wearing his emergency helmet. His fingers ware flying frantically over the interface, rotating, pushing and moving parts of it.
"Come on, Joker! I got to get you the hell off this ship!"
"No! I won't abandon the Normandy! I can still save her!"
"Stiff it! The goddamned ship is dead and so are we if we don't get the fuck away right now!"
She grabbed his arm unceremoniously pulling the pilot to get up. He wiggled out of her grip glaring stubbornly at her.
"Major, I can do it! There's still crew on board! We have to give them more time! Maybe I can guide the Normandy for a slow descent..."
Just as Jane was about to either yell at the stubborn mule or, more likely, simply knock him out and stuff his unconscious body into the escape pod, she heard the heavy steps from behind. Rounding up on the blown to pieces CIC she saw a figure she secretly hoped already left the doomed ship. The man pushed himself through the barrier and stood next to her.
They were like a perfectly matched set in their N7 armors. John was much taller, his sister only reaching an inch above his shoulder. The only difference in their armor aside from the obvious gender adjustments were the colors of the accent stripe. One blue, the other – red. Still they looked like the iconic pair off of the military posters.
"Distress beacon is set, Alenko got most of the crew to the shuttles. We're the only ones who are still here and not dead." John's voice sounded tired even through the distortion of the radio. "Having trouble with our favorite pilot?"
"Nothing I can't handle. Joker, you are a pain in the ass, but I don't want to see you die. I'd rather hit you on the head and get the baby talk over with."
"You know, she will do it. And this time I really don't have a problem with it."
Jeff looked at their unified front and threw his arms in frustrated defeat.
"Alright, alright, not gonna go down with the ship. Way to go, ganging up on a cripple. Just help me up!" he glanced at the smaller Shepard. "Gentler this time if you don't mind, ma'am."
While Jane was helping Joker to limp to the escape pod John was looking up through the hole in the hull checking something on his Omni-tool. His warning roar caught them about half way to their destination.
"They are coming in for another attack! Brace for impact!"
The golden beam hit what was left of the galaxy map cutting through the lower hull like sharp knife going through butter. It moved around separating into several smaller lasers. One of witch was rapidly closing in on them.
Jane pushed the pilot to move faster shoving him in the opened airlock of the pod. She turned around expecting John to be right next to her, but only managed to grab onto the safety railings as the ship shook in another set of violent explosions. The golden beam was burrowing through the hull between them. It completely cut off Commander from the escape pod. The radio screeched with distorted noise and then his voice cut through:
"Jane, get in, now! I'll find another way off this boat!"
She reached out to him, there were no other ways off the ship – all the other escape pods were either already launched or destroyed, even if one survived the path to deck 2 was completely impassable – they both knew he was not getting away.
"No, you can't... Please, no..." Jane whispered in her communicator feeling her iron will crumbling to pieces.
"Joker, get her on the shuttle and start the damned thing up! You don't have any more time!"
The loyal pilot took a hold of Jane's arm and pulled her in the escape pod; he had to use all of his strength because the shell shocked Major was reaching to her brother unconsciously trying to get to him as her mind was shattered.
Only the sound of confirmation of launch had got her out of the horror stricken passivity. Janie yelled shoving Joker off of her, she launched herself forward, but the door of the pod slammed shut in her face. She reached for her radio – the helmet-to-helmet signal was still active!
"John, don't do this to me! We promised to always stay together! You can't die on me! Come back!"
"Sorry, sis, you'll have to... sshhshshhs... I lov... …rhgh... ...remember... Janie... ghrshshdshhhhsh..."
"NO!"
The utter devastation of that moment will always stay with her. The moment Jane knew she would never see or hear her brother again.
"If only the damned cripple had not pulled me in..."
A singe on guilt seared through her. Joker was partially at fault – they came beck for him after all, but he surely did not meant it to happen... She broke his arm shoving him back off of her as the automatic doors of the escape capsule closed. Jane punched the doors as long as she had the strength, swearing, yelling at them to open, then pleading, begging for the door to open. As the sounds of the Normandy blowing up had grown more and more distant she curled on the floor of the escape pod and sobbed. Jane could not care anymore that Jeff would see, she forgot all about the pilot.
John was gone. He was really gone and there was not a thing in the entire universe that could make anything better.
After the rescue she put on a brave mask, apologized to Joker, went back to her duties. But it wasn't the same. The brass gave them time off, but she declined. Jane had to be doing something. Anything to dull the pain. She was reassigned to Black Ops again. She took on the most dangerous assignments. It was stupid and reckless. Jane did not care.
Months passed since the Normandy went down. Her requests for a retrieval mission had been denied seven times. She just wanted to bury her brother. Give him a proper send off even though Jane was not sure she could stomach the ceremony. Then, after speaking to some of her old crew mates, she understood what the brass was trying to do. The vids with Commander John Shepard, the first human Spectre, were still in circulation! They haven't announced he had died! Normandy's last mission was classified, the crew split up and reassigned to farthest postings from each other. The Reapers had become a joke on the Citadel! No one listened, no one believed. They all just wanted to cover it all up!
And Jane had it with them! She resigned from Alliance, withdrew all their savings and landed in this shithole of a hotel room on Omega. The beacon was right, her brother was right, Blue, the fucking prothean scientist was right! All there was left is to wait for the Reapers to arrive sooner or later and obliterate this whole fucked up galaxy!
Yeah! She rose her glass high in the air toasting the coming abominations and tried to drink. The glass was still empty. Jane swore under her breath. This was the point of the night when she drank all there was to drink and coiled up on the bed crying herself to sleep.
The Omni-tool left idle for hours on the nightstand had buzzed. Someone wanted to talk to her. Jane did not want to talk to anyone. Fuck them all, it's all their damned fault! But the buzzing kept on. Whoever that was they sure were persistent.
The redhead growled with rising anger and irritation. She clambered to her feet and strode towards the nightstand on firm feet. Her heightened metabolism had already wiped the floor with all the alcohol she was consuming for hours. That only worsened her already foul mood.
Jane grabbed the Omni-tool, punched in the comm and yelled straight in the screen at whoever managed to piss her off.
"Whatever you're selling I'm not buying and if you're not going to fuck off in two seconds I'm gonna find you and make sure you are eating through a straw for the rest of your pathetic life!"
She finally looked at the person on the on the end of the call. Asari. Blue eyes, drawn on eyebrows, white freckly tattoos. While lab coat/field armor. Liara. The former archeologist had completely ignored her outburst eying her with a relieved expression.
"Oh, thank Goddess, I have tracked you down, Jane! There is something I have to tell you!"
"Hey, Blue. Sorry about the bad greeting, but I'm really not in the mood. Just don't care anymore. Leave the galaxy saving to someone else. It doesn't deserve it anyway, as far as I'm concerned."
She sounded bitter, annoyed and tired. It was not fair to Liara, the asari had been there for her when she needed a friend, but Jane could not bring herself to consider anyone else' feelings. She was done with all the pretense.
"Jane, listen to me! There is a way to bring him back!"
"What?"
Were her biotics messed up? Was she still drunk? Or maybe she did pass out and this was a bad dream?
"This is not a joke! There is no guarantee and it's going to be dangerous to try, but there is a way! Shepard, are you listening?"
"Blue... If this is some sort of a sick asari mourning ritual, I'm gonna..."
"It is not! I swear. It's true. We can bring him back."
The room was spinning. Where there was no hope, no tomorrow, no nothing, maybe there could be something? A tiny bit of insane, completely desperate wishful thinking. It was selfish and unhealthy, but... Jane did not even believe the asari, not at all. Dead do not come back to life. Then again, there was nothing to do until the end came with the Reapers...
"Fine. Let's say I believe you, what's next?"
"We have to meet. Can you come to the Gozu district, dock G-17?"
"Wait, Blue, you're on Omega?"
"Yes, but this is not a matter that can be discussed on a call. Meet me in half an hour. I will explain everything."
"Deal. I'll be there."
TBC...