This is the first fanfic I've attempted, so I welcome any and all feedback you might have. The sheer scope and scale of the mass effect universe has had me captivated from day one, particularly the legacy of the Protheans. The introduction of Javik in ME3 gives us a small glimpse into their past glory, but there is still so much more that can be delved into. The following fiction is my attempt at trying to fill in some of those blanks. References to key locations will abound, although using different names.

Prologue

Normandy SR-2: Engineering, Port Cargo

Javik ran his hands through the water of the basin in his quarters, attempting to cleanse the residue of the last mission from his being, both physically and mentally. The squad of Shepard, Garrus and himself had crash landed on the watery abode of a supposed Reaper killer. Naturally, the Reapers had tracked this elusive being as well, and the squad had to fend off endless waves of their foot soldiers. But it wasn't fighting the puppets of the Reapers that had disturbed Javik. It was the planet itself that had been the most ominous aspect of the mission. From orbit it appeared like a blue sapphire hanging in the black edifice of the void. In its own way, it seemed beautiful to Javik. On the surface however, it was nothing more than a tomb for the corroding hulks of ships that had the misfortune to crash there.

Javik had touched the belongings of the stranded, reliving their experiences in vivid detail. At first most of the unfortunate victims felt resignation tinged with faint hope for rescue. That feeling was short lived as their minds quickly eroded into panic, followed by an overpowering madness. Javik also sensed the faint tinge of an outside force controlling the thoughts and actions of those beings, an intelligence that seemed both vast and incomprehensible to him. He could not tell if this was done in order to pacify the castaways or to strip away their rational thought processes and break them. In the end, they all succumbed to this overpowering will. And then, as now, the world greeted its guests with nothing but stony silence.

The mission was ultimately a success, with Shepard boarding a mech and diving below the surface of the ocean to corner his quarry. After escaping the planet and a close encounter with a dreadnought class Reaper, Shepard confirmed that he had made contact with the Leviathan. He was curiously reticent about his experience, only hinting that this Leviathan had no choice but to involve itself in the war. That was all Javik needed to hear. Any weapon that could be used against the Reapers should be welcomed with open arms, not shunned. Although he would never admit his unease to his companions, Javik was anxious to put the mission behind him.

Javik broke out of his meditation to the sound of the omnipresent hum that had filled his quarters from the time he was brought onboard the Normandy. It wasn't the ship's mass effect core that was the source of the hum, but the rather innocuous relic that was floating several centimetres on a table by the wall. The hum would be imperceptible to any species other than a Prothean, but Javik had heard it's unique melody as if it were a chiming instrument. Striding over to it, he grasped the ends of the table that the shard was situated on, staring intently at it. "You are still here my old friend." Javik murmured to himself absently.

The memories, lives and experiences of his people, winding back through generations of Prothean lives like a river, stored within a bauble that could fit within the palm of his hand. The ever present temptation to know, to feel his people again had torn at his will since he was awakened. It was at times like these when he felt his resolve ebb, that he would give serious thought to activating the shard. To witness his civilization, one that was flowering and alive, the dominant power within the galaxy before it's downfall was something that Javik could not easily ignore. Slowly, he began to reach towards the echo shard, mere fingertips away from reliving a glorious past….

The comm signal began to beep and Javik blinked his four eyes in unison, uttering an annoyed hiss. "Javik here, what is it?" he snapped. Garrus seemed to hesitate before answering. "Javik. Am I interrupting you at the moment?" Javik sighed before answering "No turian, you are not. What is it that you need?" Garrus continued. "Listen . . . I know we both had a rough mission down there, so I was wondering if you'd like to come up to Port Observation for a drink or two? A reward of sorts for a difficult mission accomplished."

Javik rolled his inner eyes, "You must realize by now that I do not imbibe spirits turian. What would be the point?" Garrus answered rather sheepishly "Oh right . . . forgot about the whole Prothean stiff upper lip thing. Still, if you want to come topside you wouldn't have to drink. Just sit down, relax and trade war stories if you'd like. I'm sure you have some pretty interesting ones. Or if you just want to spend some time among the living and not the dead that's okay too. I'll be up here if you change your mind. Garrus out"

That last gibe unconsciously stung Javik. He held a grudging respect for Garrus, who in many ways reminded him of himself so long ago. Staring up at the bulkhead, he had to admit that the turian was correct. The vast gulf of fifty millennia separated his people from where he was at this moment, again locked in a fight for survival against the horrors that his people called the Reapers. He might reflexively think of the turian, asari, quarian and humans aboard this vessel as primitives, but like it or not, they were all he had in this universe right now. He stretched and made his way to the door. As it slid open for him, he looked back over his shoulder at the echo shard and said "Another time perhaps." before moving down the hallway towards the elevator.