The Crow and the Butterfly
Prologue: Dear Agony

January 16, 2172
Earth-Chicago

"Hey, sweet cheeks, how much for a couple hours of your time?"
"Wrong place, buddy. If you're after skin, go down a couple of blocks."

The man smirked and leaned against the brick wall, just inches from the red-head. "What if I don't want to go a couple of blocks down when there's a perfectly fine piece of ass right here?"

The teen's green eyes narrowed and she turned to face the man, crossing her arms over her swollen abdomen. "Look, buddy, you've got two choices; you either buy some of this sand and move the fuck along, or you can go two blocks down and get what you're looking for."

A sickening leer spread across his features and exposed the consequences of a lifetime's worth of bad dental hygiene. He reached out to touch her stomach, his dirty fingers dancing across the fabric stretched over the bump. "Kinda in a delicate condition, aren't you? Where's big daddy at?"

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk as a thin red beam shot from the shadows and stopped in a small red dot on the man's forehead. "Big daddy is on that rooftop over there and has a nice bullet just itching to be buried in your skull. Now, get your damn hands off of me." She slapped his hand away and turned to walk away.

His retreating footsteps left shallow imprints in the steadily falling snow and CJ heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks for that," she said into her ear-piece. "He was starting to creep me out."

A laugh crackled through the connection before Adam Shepard's rich Southern drawl warmed her heart. "No problem, Mama. Are you done for the night?"
"Yeah, go ahead and head back down to ground level. I'll meet you around back." CJ closed the connection and did a quick double check of her area to ensure no product or money was forgotten. She ran her hands up and down her aching spine as she made her way down towards the end of the alley.
Just ahead, she could make out the slender figure of her boyfriend descending the ladder. From the faint glow of the neon across the street, she watched his lopsided grin grow until he was standing in front of her with a wide smile. "What was that I heard about 'big daddy'?" Adam leaned forward and kissed her chilled cheek.

"Don't flatter yourself, that creep started it." CJ tucked her arms into his jacket and pressed herself against his warm body. "Let's get out of here. I'm cold, my back hurts, and I want to sleep."

"In other words, you want to get back to that pizza before someone else finds it."
"Damn right I want to get back to that pizza!"

Adam arched an eyebrow and his gray eyes met hers in a sharp look of disapproval. "Now, Big Mama, what have we talked about?"

CJ rolled her eyes. "Ugh, sorry. I'll put a sticker on the wall when we get back to the safe house. Right after I get my pizza."

The couple walked in silence through the cold January night. As CJ clutched to Adam's arm, a smile spread across both of their faces. Despite them being young and in a gang while expecting a baby, they had to admit that they were happier than most in their position. They had always worked together to keep each other safe and make the most out of their work - it was just a little bit different now than when they were ten years old and using skinned knees and split lips to charm elderly ladies out of a credit.

Even with the notoriety, the Reds were much like a large dysfunctional family. The fear of CJ being kicked from their ranks and forced on the streets consumed them. Their leader-a scarred veteran who went by Cloak-had been the one to set their minds at ease. When they had presented the pregnancy to the higher-ups, he leaned across the dark wooden table with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. "You're irreplaceable members of this family. When the baby is born, it'll become a member of the family as well."

It wasn't the best life out there, and Adam didn't want to watch his pregnant lady have to stand in a dark corner of town and deal out red sand during the coldest time of the year in order to earn their keep. But, he also knew that it could be a whole lot worse. They could be stuck on the streets with absolutely nowhere to go and with no food in their bellies, having to do anything and everything to try and get by. More than once he had seen a desperate man being led back into the alleys by another man – once, it had even been a particularly vicious-looking krogan out back behind a space port.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

CJ's shrill protest threw Adam out of his reverie and he had to blink several times before he readjusted. "What is it?"
"Why do I have to be Big Mama?!"

The laugh she loved so much escaped his throat and fogged the air between them when his heated breath met the frigid air. "You're almost nine months pregnant." Then, he threw her a pointed look. "Need I say more?"

"…Dick."
"Sticker."
"Crap!"

February 14, 2172

It was Valentine's Day when CJ delivered a healthy baby girl at the only clinic that was willing to deal with the Tenth Street Reds. When they were able to bring the baby home, even the gruffest of members stopped by to offer a coo or a smile to their newest addition. Someone had even left a roughly-knitted wool blanket outside of their room. A fellow member eyed the faded, purple blanket oddly over breakfast the next morning and when CJ questioned them about it, the answer was a little more than surprising: "That blanket belonged to Cloak's oldest daughter when she was born. She was only seventeen when a heist went bad and she was killed." From that day forward, Cloak made a point of stopping by and spending a bit of time with the baby before starting his day.

Adam was in complete and unconditional love with his daughter from the moment he first saw her; red, wet, and screaming at the top of her lungs. If she cried in the wee hours of the morning, he was at her crib-side before CJ even got out of bed. One morning, he stood in the doorway of the nursery and watched CJ breast-feed.

He had seen other infants receiving their nourishment in the same fashion before, but, as he watched his child suckle, an overwhelming sensation of peace warmed him to his very soul. In that instant, he knew that out there, somewhere, there was a higher power at work. No one could tell him that something that beautiful and pure was mere coincidence.

The baby's tiny fist opened and closed against her mother's skin, and her eyes drooped while being rocked back and forth, back and forth, and sung an old tune that Adam remembered his mother singing to him when he himself was young.

"Bye, baby bunting…Daddy's gone a' hunting, to get a little rabbit skin…To wrap his baby bunting in…" CJ sang quietly and with a small smile. She reached up and stroked the smooth skin on the baby's cheek, feeling so full of maternal pride that she thought her heart would burst.

"She needs a name, Mama." Adam came and knelt down beside them, gently laying his hand on the warm bundle in his lover's arms.
"Do you have any ideas?" She whispered the question, and glanced down quickly to make sure that the tiny eyes were still closed."We could name her after you, Catherine Jane." He smirked, knowing good and well that CJ absolutely detested the name Catherine, the name she had inherited from the same mother who had abandoned her for booze, drugs, and men.

Green eyes narrowed. "We can keep the Jane part, but I'll be darned if my child is going to have her name," A quick glance down at the baby's sleeping face, and all traces of anger slipped from her mind. "Wasn't your mother named Zoë?"

Adam nodded and smiled at CJ. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sunlight filtered into the room, illuminating the young family in a warm, morning glow. CJ tucked the blanket around her daughter and squarely met Adam's gaze with a bright grin. "Zoë Jane."

April 11, 2172

Shelly had volunteered to baby-sit Zoë for CJ's eighteenth birthday in order to give her and Adam some alone time together. It had been hard enough to focus on the cake and presents with a heated pair of stormy grey eyes on her the entire time, and with Adam's heated touch on her skin now, coherent thought became an impossible task.

The lack of intimacy during the later months of her pregnancy and after Zoë's birth had made CJ hyper-sensitive to his rough hands and the lazy circles he traced on her skin with his tongue. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips, moaning and arching into his touch as his fingers re-discovered her sweet spots. It was like he was touching her, tasting her again for the very first time. Her body opened up to him as he explored the curves over her soft stomach that was slowly, but surely, returning to its original form. Adam pressed a kiss to her temple, and tenderly lowered her to the sheets beneath him.

A loud bang caused them to freeze, mere inches from each other's bodies. The unmistakable sounds of repetitive gun-fire that rapidly followed the initial shot quickly put an end to the couple's activities. Years and years of conditioning not only sent their bodies into battle-mode, but also sent them into a flurry of limbs as they raced to throw on the clothing they had shed only moments prior.

CJ reached between the mattresses under her side of the bed and removed the same pistol she had been given when she was first initiated into the Reds. "What the hell is going on?!" She shouted over another burst of gun fire.

"Damned if I know!" Adam loaded a thermal clip into his rifle, and dashed towards the door that led from their small room into the main hall of the safe house. Readying his weapon into firing position, he threw the door open and quickly rounded the corner, doing a double-take around the corner before motioning for CJ to follow him. "Here." He reached into his back pocket and handed her an extra clip. "Take this, and stick with me. We need to find out what the fuck is going on."

They had barely moved ten feet when a large, dark-skinned man stepped around another corner and opened fire on them without a moment's hesitation. "Get back!" Immediately, Adam reached back and slammed CJ back into the wall, flattening himself beside her.

CJ crouched down and crept towards the corner of the wall, keeping her head turned to the side in order to avoid the chunks of plaster flying through the air as the unknown male's slugs tore through the wall. The smell of charred steel and the sound of a sizzle as the weapon, alongside a moment's pause in the gun-fire, gave her enough time to stand and fire a well-aimed shot into the poor bastard's skull. He managed to pop off another round into the ceiling before collapsing in a heap on the floor, which allowed the couple to ease forward and examine the body.

"God-dammit, it's the Rains." Adam cursed, kicked the corpse, and reached down to pluck several extra clips from a pouch on his belt.
" The Rains?! But I thought Cloak and Donovan made peace years ago! Why would they come around here and start messing shit up now?"
"Guess Donovan wants our turf again." Adam cocked his rifle, and stepped over the body.

CJ's green eyes narrowed and darted around the halls, searching for the slightest sign of movement. "A year ago, I would have said 'fuck it' and left, but this bastard messed up when he put my baby in danger."

Moving swiftly through the compound, they soon began to notice a suspicious lack of their own people. Any Tenth Street they saw was either dead or close to it. If they took down one Rains member, two more sprang into place. They found Cloak in his office, or rather what was left of him. There was still no sign of Zoë.

They stormed down the hall and rounded the corner that led into the mess hall. Adam held his rifle steady and moved through the tables. CJ took to the far side, near the pantries, and snapped the pistol around every corner she came across. A muffled whimper of protest and a weak cry drew her to the far corner, back behind several shelves.

She expected a barrage of bullets, of having to throw herself behind some cover and fight for her life. What CJ never expected to find was Zoë's faded, purple blanket lying on the floor, noticeably spattered with blood. Inches away, Shelly's lifeless body was slumped over on the floor, and underneath her arms, there was a kicking flurry of little feet.

"Adam, get in here!" The young mother fell to her knees with a painful thud and hauled the dead woman's torso away from her baby. Zoë's face was red and angry, and her cries were hoarse and weak from her efforts. CJ gently picked up her daughter and examined her from head to toe, luckily finding no wounds on her tiny body. "Adam!" She called again.

She waited in the pantry for Adam to come running, and when he didn't, she grabbed the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Zoë. Pistol in hand and with a baby on her hip, CJ eased out of the pantry and into the kitchen, which was where Adam had previously been headed. She saw him through the window and sighed in relief.

"I found…" Her eyes widened when, suddenly, Donovan, the leader of the Rains, began to creep up behind Adam and aim his weapon directly at the back of his head.
"ADAM!"

BLAM!

Horrified, CJ watched her lover's skull splatter across the wall and his body slump to the floor in a sickening heap. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and pressed her body as flat as she could against the inside of the pantry just as the tears began to pour down her face. Zoë began to squirm and cry in her mother's arms, her voice finding a bit more strength than it had before.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…I know you're in here somewhere." Donovan's raspy voice permeated throughout the room. "Don't make me have to come in and find you."

Panicked desperation shot through CJ's body, burning through her veins like a particularly strong dose of opiates "Shh, baby girl. Be good for Mama." She whispered urgently in an attempt to calm her child into silence. If anything, it seemed to agitate the child still further and she continued to cry.

"Ready or not, here I come." He took slow, heavy, and deliberate steps back into the mess hall. A semi-reflective surface on a shelf allowed CJ to watch him peek through the freezers and then into the giant refrigeration system on the other side of the hall.

She bit down on her lip, looked down at Zoë, and forced a half-hearted smile. "Baby girl, Mama is about to do something very stupid." She pressed a kiss to the downy-soft hair on her daughter's forehead, and began to rock them both back and forth, back and forth. "You can't understand me yet, sweet-pea, but I hope you know that your Mama and Daddy love you very much." Choking back more tears, CJ readied her pistol, tightened her grip on Zoë, and then made a mad dash for the main hall.

One foot touched down on the bloodied tile and just as she thought that she'd made it safely home, a loud bang was followed by a sharp pain as something cut though the flesh on her upper arm. "I see you!" Donovan roared before firing upon her again and again, narrowly missing her head by just a few uncomfortable inches. Ignoring the searing pain from the gun-shot wound, she tore through the halls and barely avoided tripping over the fallen members of the Reds.

Slugs continued to ricochet off the walls even as she reached the exit. The red glow from the activated lock caused more panic than frustration, and sent her mind into a frenzy as she frantically tried to remember the code. It emitted a beep of denial, and then a second, and on her third and final try, which would send the door into permanent lock-down if she failed, CJ began to pray to anything or anyone who'd listen.

'Whoever's out there, listening… Please, give me the strength to get through this, and I swear I'll leave this life behind me. No more alcohol, no more drug running. I'll get a job and I'll be a proper mother. Just please, help me out here!'

Green flashed and the door whooshed open, stunning CJ for the tiniest moment before she ran though and entered the lock down code on the other side. Before the two doors sealed shut, she was awarded with a brief glimpse of Donovan rounding the corner with Adam's rifle held squarely in his hands.

The emergency exit hadn't been used in years, but, as children, CJ and Adam had frequently played down here with the other kids. Thick cobwebs, and the stale odor of mildew and decay, overwhelmed her senses and made her cough violently. She had to navigate the path carefully and allow her eyes enough time to adjust to the painfully low-light conditions deeper within the tunnel. More than once, the remains of old wire and other corroded scrap-metals scraped her arms and caught her fully across the face, throwing a grotesque mix of dust, blood and tears into her mouth.

The deeper she went, the more her thoughts seemed to swirl. She was alone with no money, with no where to go, and a fatherless child that needed to eat. 'If I don't eat, though, Zoë can't eat either,' She thought darkly. Up ahead, the faint glow of street-lights filtered though the grates in the street service entry. Tucking the pistol neatly into her pants, CJ pulled Zoë to her side and carefully ascended the rickety ladder with her free hand.

Her reward was a rush of cool April air and a couple of odd glances when she hoisted herself and a baby out from beneath the street. A few whispers reached her ears, but she didn't have time to concern herself with the opinions being indirectly thrown at her from multiple sources. Walking deeper into the city induced even more stares and more whispers, though thankfully no one approached her with questions. The policemen either glanced up and then back down at the data pads held in their hands, or redirected their gazes in a more interesting direction.

'Just another desperate girl looking for a fix, I guess,' CJ mused to herself, but if that's what it took for them to keep from halting her progress with incessant questions, she would gladly be whatever they wanted her to be.

She reached up to stroke her daughter's hair, but, when her fingers grazed the downy strands, a certain coldness filled her body. The motion felt oddly foreign to her, and the child's weight soon grew awkward and uncomfortable. As CJ stared down at Zoë's face, every fiber of her being began to question her instincts as a mother.

As the panic grew, she looked around for a place to stop and compose herself, and found the inviting light from a small, sparsely-populated café to be their best option. She stepped inside and returned a waitress' greeting with a quick smile as she settled down in a corner booth with Zoë. A middle-aged woman approached her, holding a menu and an assortment of silverware that she adeptly placed in front of CJ. "What can I get for you to drink, sweetie?"

"Um, coffee please. Regular, black."
"I'll get that right out to you." She offered a too-sweet smile and returned to the kitchens.

CJ hated coffee, but she needed time to compose herself. The pistol in her jeans dug uncomfortably into her hip, almost painfully so. She laid Zoë down in the crevice of the booth and turned, discreetly removing the weapon from her pants while under the guise of tending to her daughter. A sickening feeling washed over her when she held the hilt of the gun in her hand.

Suddenly, the waitress placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of CJ, startling her so much that the teen jumped. "Here you go."
"Shit, you scared me!" She played it off with a shaky laugh and subtly eased the gun under the folds of the blanket.
"I'm sorry about that! Are you ready to order, or…?"
"Just a few more minutes, please." CJ dug deep and forced a thin smile.
"That's fine, I'll come back in a bit."

She watched the woman head back into the kitchens, and then sank back into the booth and rubbed her face out of frustration. The cold, hard steel of the pistol had settled comfortably back into the palm of her hand when her own child's form had grown alien in her arms.

A deadly weapon felt more natural to her than holding her own daughter.

CJ began to weigh the options in her head; she had no money and no place to go, with a child that her body was slowly rejecting. If she took Zoë to one of the dozens of adoption agencies around town, they would ask too many questions and the poor girl would end up in a foster home with who-knows-what kind of people for guardians. Similarly, taking her to the police would lead to the same scenario with an included jail sentence.
A loud laugh tore CJ from her thoughts, and she looked up as a young couple entered the café. A shining wedding band on one of the woman's fingers gleamed when she reached up to touch her husband's face. She kissed him, and looked over, meeting CJ's eyes, and instead of throwing out a retort like most people would, she only grinned. "I'm sorry. We're newly-weds."

CJ chuckled and shook her head. "No worries, that's fine." Just then, Zoë began to whimper and kicked her tiny legs.
"Aww! Is that your baby?" The woman's bright blue eyes sparkled in delight as she leaned over in order to better look at Zoë. "Can I hold her?"
CJ hesitated, half-expecting a comment on her own disheveled appearance. When none were forthcoming, she nodded her head, carefully unwrapped the blanket, and eased the child into the woman's waiting arms. Instant coos and child-like sounds surrounded Zoë as the woman's husband came over and joined in on the fun. "What's her name?" She asked, smiling and playing with a tiny hand.

"Zoë Jane," CJ answered. "She'll be two months old on the 14th."

The woman squealed in sheer delight, and the teenager's green eyes warmed as she watched the couple's expressions contort with pure joy over her child. A strange relief fell over her as her most important issue settled itself right before her eyes.

"Excuse me, but could you watch her for just a second? I think I left my purse at the transportation hub across the street." CJ almost winced at how bitter the lie tasted in her mouth, and regretted the fact that this would be the last night she'd ever see her daughter.

"Sure, no problem! We'll just go ahead and get a table so we can wait for you there," answered the husband before turning his attention to finding the mentioned table. CJ murmured a quick thanks, reached down for Zoë's blanket, and slid out of he booth. After exiting the café, she jogged across the street, but never went to the transportation hub she'd mentioned.

Tears slid down her cheeks, and she tried her best to wipe them away. In one night, she had not only lost her best friend and lover, but also her daughter. Never before had she felt so alone and so vulnerable since her mother first abandoned her. And annoyed by the weapon that was once again pressing into her side, CJ took it out and threw it as hard as she could down an adjacent alleyway. The loud thud it made as it landed amongst derelict cars and old garbage bins was oddly gratifying.

In the midst of wiping her eyes dry, CJ lost her concentration and crashed into a solid body. "Hey, there! Watch it!"

She opened her eyes only to see an older man in full Alliance naval uniform bending down to pick up the papers he'd dropped upon their collision. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, and knelt down to help him pick up the flyers.
"It's no trouble at all, young lady. Thanks for the help."

CJ collected the scattered sheets and tapped them against the ground to even them up with one another. Then, she stood up in order to hand them to the officer, and looked down at the words typed in bold print across the top. "Recruitment…? The Alliance naval force is looking for recruits?"
The man nodded. "We sure are. You interested?"

CJ's eyes scanned over the papers, and she nodded without a second thought. "I am, sir."

"Are you eighteen?"
"Just turned eighteen today, sir."

He chuckled and accepted the papers from her. "You're polite at least, I'll give you that. If you really are interested, follow me down to our office and we'll get everything going for you."

The teen nodded and dusted herself off as she suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Do you have a name, future-soldier?" He asked kindly.

CJ looked up from her nervous tidying. "Yes, sir."

This earned her another chuckle. "Well, what is it?"

This was it. A chance to be someone completely new. In that moment, she could create an entirely new life, and start over fresh. No one ever had to know that she'd been in a gang. She didn't have to relive her lover's murder. She could forget the feeling of hopelessness that had overwhelmed her as her body's maternal instincts slowly faded away.

"Jane Shepard, sir."
He held out his hand and shook hers in a confirmatory gesture. "Welcome to the corps, Shepard."

Author's Notes: Thank you all for reading my very first Mass Effect fic. ^w^ A bit of info about Jane Shepard...Earthborn (duh!), War Hero, Paragade.

Many, many, many thanks to my lovely beta-reader Wolf126! She carefully helped me fix my ADHD mistakes, bless her heart. XD Check out her endearing /Tali fic she is working on, "To Build A Home".

The little deal with the stickers in the beginning is something like a curse jar! Before I was born and while my brother's and I were growing up, my mom and dad had a little wager. They put "dirty word" stickers on a chart whenever they cursed; blue for dad and red for mom! At the end of week, they had to pay each $0.25 for each sticker. Of course, most of the time it went forgotten, but it lead to some epic improvised sayings!

Reviews are love~