The Presidium, all shining surfaces and peaceful pools, did a poor job of representing the real state of affairs in the Galaxy, Javik had to agree with the human soldier on that. Even with the scorch marks left from the recent invasion attempt, it was still little more than a dream of peace, just like it was in his time. Only more tangible. Javik could not shake the feeling that it was another elaborate trap, part of some Reaper plan to pacify them, make them forget about the war that raged beyond the walls of the Citadel.
Here, in the Holding Area, the dream has long since shattered. The smell of fear and desperation was thick in the air, and the Prothean had to take great care not to touch anyone. But, unlike the people in the Embassies, no one paid much attention to a weird alien walking among them. The refugees were too busy with their own problems: here, a whole family huddling together on a hard bench that was going to be their home now, there, a woman crying over a picture, her hands clasped tightly in desperate prayer to any god that would listen.
When Javik was born, constant war with the Reapers has already become a way of life. Young Protheans learned about their ultimate enemy before they learned to walk. But in this time, the horror of the war was still fresh in people's minds. He could see fear in their eyes, resignation in their hunched backs. Much like the Presidium filled one with peaceful complacency, the dim lights and mixed crowds of the emergency housing magnified the fear and despair, transmitted it from refugee to refugee like plague. It was sickening to see.
A familiar shape in the Human Alliance fatigues drew his attention as surely as a gulp of fresh air. The Commander was talking to a turian, her dark eyebrows knitted thoughtfully. Together those two seemed out of place, like a pattern in a see of chaos, too businesslike and confident to fade into background. Reading the Commander's lips, Javik could make out words like "rationing" and "medications". After a few minutes, apparently having finished giving instructions, she clasped the turian on the shoulder and smiled reassuringly, and then they both went in different directions. Javik watched as she moved through the crowds, talking to people and often touching them the same way she touched the turian. It was strange to see someone perform that intimate gesture of trust and support on a complete and random stranger, but he had to remind himself that the Commander was not a Prothean, and the races of this time so far have proven to be very… contact indeed. To Javik, however, such wanton use of touch was cheapening its significance.
"Exploring the glorious Citadel?" Lost in thought, he managed to miss the moment she noticed him. Humiliating.
"Yes," he answered shortly, unwilling to show any sign of surprise. The human chuckled in response. "These people are a liability."
"Walk with me," Shepard said, a corner of her mouth going up for a split second in a half-smile that to any who knew her meant nothing good. Javik relied more on his other senses, catching a quickly stifled wave of anger from the Commander. He obliged, nevertheless. The human clasped her hands behind her back and slowly began walking, smiling and nodding at the people who recognized her. "These people have nowhere else to go. They always thought of the Citadel as their safe haven. They don't call it the Citadel for nothing."
"And we both know it is a lie," Javik countered. "You gather them all in one place, waste your resources on them, and what happens when the Reapers finally choose to attack here?"
"What happens if the Reapers attack anywhere?" the human shrugged. "We protect them. It is what we are for."
"We are for defeating the Reapers."
"And how did that mindset work out for you?" she asked in the same benevolent way one asked a neighbor about the weather, and then stopped to answer someone's question about some world that meant nothing to Javik and clasp another random shoulder.
Almost every time he came out of his room the crew had insisted on nagging him with stories of the great Commander Shepard's glorious exploits. Her crew seemed certain the Reapers were already defeated simply because she was the one fighting them. And that was the opinion she seemed to share. The hero of the Blitz, the savior of the Citadel, she simply couldn't lose. Foolish. As the war drags on, she'll learn that even she cannot avoid making ugly sacrifices of some if all are to be saved.
"Your confidence is… misguided," Javik took another meaningful look at the refugees, then back at her. The human stopped abruptly and turned to him.
"My confidence is what these people need!" she hissed. The Prothean noted not without a certain degree of satisfaction that her pale violet eyes darkened with anger. Then she took a breath and continued in her normal calm voice. "They know the pain and the fear of this war just fine. They face the enemy that surpasses our forces in just about every way. They don't need us to remind them how hopeless this war is. Before we can win, they need to believe that we can."
"Then you breed complacency among them. Lull them with lies," Javik snorted with disdain. Somehow he felt the need to contradict this human, punish her for her idealism, for the habit of being everyone's friend and damned efficient Commander because of it, for still believing that mercy and caring could win her a war. For daring to be someone he could never be in the cruel war-consumed past of desperate measures and great sacrifices.
"I give them hope!" There it was again, that satisfying flash of anger. "Do you think I like going around smiling like a fool while thinking about how yet another world went dark today? They need to see Commander Shepard who can lead them to victory. They need to hope, or we all might as well just lie down and wait for death. I'm assuming it's not what you want, so…" Her words drifted off as she was distracted by the sight of a small turian girl clutching a toy to her chest in the universal show of fear.
The Commander was immediately kneeling by the child, talking to her in that strange high-pitched voice human females apparently used on their children. It did not appear to work well on the turian child.
"Are you lost?" Shepard asked, and the child nodded, staring wide-eyed at the alien woman. "Are you with your parents here?"
There was a lot Javik wanted to say to this human, mainly because this primitive dared to speak of hope – something his people had lost so long ago. This distraction has firmly sidetracked her from their discussion, however. He came closer and knelt by the child, determined to help if only out of sheer annoyance. The Prothean touched the girl and closed his eyes briefly.
"I will be back with the mother," he said, getting up, and disappeared into the crowds.
The turian girl stared after him. "Is he a batarian?" she asked curiously. "Father says batarians are bad."
"No," Shepard smiled. "He's a Prothean, have you heard of them?"
"Like Prothy the Prothean?" the girl's eyes went even larger, which seemed impossible.
"Yep," the Commander's smile widened at the comparison. Javik would surely say something involving the airlock if that children's show was ever mentioned to him. Wise and kind alien who taught little children how to cross the road wasn't exactly how the proud last Prothean saw himself. She was definitely going to show it to him later. "So he's going to find your mother for sure and bring her here."
The girl nodded, now completely calm. Shepard had to laugh. Even despite himself, Javik was an important symbol to many people.
True enough, soon the Prothean reappeared with a turian woman, who rushed to the child and swept her up, all the while thanking the Commander and her associate and berating the child for wandering off. She was about the walk away, but the girl reached out for Javik. The Prothean endured the embrace stoically and automatically accepted the doll the child proffered to him.
"Thank you, Prothy," the girl said before being finally carried away by her mother.