This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic to share with the general populous. I'm a bit nervous, but the more I thought about what it must have been like for Shepard to live through her past, the more I wanted to try writing it. Forgive me if not all my thoughts connect properly. I haven't decided on the pairing just yet, but expect there to be some past relationships in her life.
Mornings on Mindoir are always the same. Wake up before dawn, get dressed, do chores, eat breakfast, take a shower, eat breakfast, and go to school. And just like every other morning since the Shepard family staked their claim on the colony, Jane is rolling out of bed a few minutes late.
"Jane! You're sixteen years old already, time to start getting up on time at least." Hannah Shepard says from her daughter's door way. She's got her hands on her hips and is shaking her head at her daughter's groggy, fumbling hands reaching for her boots.
"I'm sorry mom. I promise, I'll get up early tomorrow, five minutes early every day." Half her promise is slurred by a yawn, but she smiles anyway. Jane runs a hand through her tangled blonde hair, the length of which hits her about at the waist, before tiring it back in a messy bun on top of her head.
"You say that every morning." Jane's mother says with a chuckle. "Don't you have a test today in xenoanthropology?"
"Yeah, and I'm definitely prepared for it. If I don't get and 'A' on it I'll wake up ten minutes early from now on." Jane rubs her face and blinks more than a few times before getting out of bed fully.
"Well, I guess you're safe there at least." Her mother turns then and heads out to start on her own morning chores. Jane's unwavering good grades are the only things that keep her parents from being more strict about waking up in the morning. Both her parents are retired marines who fought in the First contact War. So both are religiously disciplined and keep up a lot of their old lifestyle, even now after being a part of the first wave of colonists on Mindoir and spending all of the last sixteen (for her mothers) to fifteen (for her father) years as farmers. Early wake up, regular exercise, and plenty of gun practice; all of which Jane has been raised to be a part of since the Skyllian Verge isn't the safest place to live.
One thing her she'll always be proud of her parents for is their lack of xenophobia, particularly toward the turians. (Unlike some other people who have never been in the marines, let alone the war.) They held fast to the opinion that the whole war was a tragic mistake and that even though they fought hard and followed their orders, the didn't have anything against the turian species. As a consequence, Jane has grown up fascinated by all the new species they are occasionally exposed to. She's even considering going into medicine so she can study xenobiology more extensively. But those thoughts are for an hour when the sun is up in the sky.
Jane tromps her way through their pre-fab home towards the kitchen. Her chores consist of kitchen duty, cooking for everyone working out in the fields, prepping things for the harvest coming soon. She's happy to make sure everyone gets a filling breakfast, since it means she doesn't have to do manual labor so soon after waking up. As she goes about gathering supplies and begins cooking, she hums to herself. She's careful to keep a clean and orderly kitchen, because she's one of the few humans on the colony who knows anything about dextro-amino cooking and has taken it upon herself to make something to take to school for Mr. Ractis, her xenobiology teacher. Other students accuse her of kissing up to the alien, and while she does have something of a crush on the dark skinned turian with he piercing green eyes and bright orange face paint, that's not the case. He's only on his second year of teaching on their colony, and she can't imagine he has easy access to good food very often. She spends her entire month's allowance on supplies for one mean for him, granted he definitely makes more money than she does, but she can't imagine he gets better than nutrient paste very often. She won't pretend she knows a lot about the specifics of all the foods she makes for him or what it's actually supposed to taste like, but she follows the recipe to exactness and he's never complained about her food so she can't be all that bad at it.
Cooking for humans on the other hand, she's a wizard at. By the time she's finished cooking for the group of farmers, there's more than one head poking in through the open door. She hears them chattering about breakfast from outside, but they all know better than to come inside before one of Jane's parents unless they want to be on dishes duty after they eat. It's not long before she hears her father walking into the kitchen. Brushing his large hands off on his pants.
"Jane, my girl, you spoil us. What are we going to do when you graduate and go off to college? We'll have to live like turians, eating nothing but nutrient bars for all our meals!" John Shepard exclaims, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek before reaching over her to gather plates for everyone for breakfast. Jane laughs a little at her father's antics.
"I promise I'll bring someone under my tutelage next year so you'll have something good to eat when I'm gone." She says while gathering up hot pads for the table for the hot skillets to sit on.
"Do I hear dissention in my own home?" Jane's mother says from the doorway. "Who do you think taught that girl to cook?" The rest of the neighbors were gathering at the sink to wash their hands for breakfast, chuckling to themselves a bit at the Shepards.
"God himself taught that girl to cook!" John said with a wide sweeping gesture over the table. "you just opened the door. I love you dear, but everything you cook tastes like military rations." He kisses his wife quickly in an attempt to derail her ire, but gets a smack on the chest anyway.
"I like military rations." Hannah grouses at her husband, though she smiles a bit at his rubbing his chest in response to the sting of her hand. "Let's just be grateful for her while we've got her. Before we know it she'll be some bit shot on the Citadel, and we'll be vaguely remembered in her busy life."
"Come on mom, I'm not going to be one of those kids who leaves home and never comes back to visit. And how could I make it through the week wit Hough calling home? That's almost criminal neglect of ones' parents." Jane chides as she puts Mr. Ractis's food in a container.
"Stop talking like we've already lost her and let's eat." says their older neighbor, Mr. Stevens, who is already standing behind a chair, waiting for everyone to settle down some. With a hearty laugh from Jane's father and a little conceding, they all sit down to a lively breakfast.