Faces so very lost to time
"Jack?" A sound very like the rumble of chair rollers on corrugated plastic followed his name. Footsteps followed the rolling chair, approaching him from behind. "Jack? You still with me, son?"
Darkness. Fire. Pain. A slow, numbing chill crept through his flesh, spreading out from the slowing blood in his veins.
A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, tearing Jack's dimming stare from the brilliant fires that blossomed in the black beyond the sterile platform. A turian face, blurred but familiar, blocked his view of the end. He slapped the hand away. He'd die gazing down at Earth. After all, his entire life had been spent championing the people she'd nurtured.
"Don't touch me, Vakari—." He bit down on the word, the face before him not turian, but human and familiar. Confusion burned through him, daggers of sunlight and bright blue skies stabbing into his eyes to plant the concerned frown of a figure from a long forgotten life into his brain. "Bill?" He stumbled, catching himself with a hand against the cold glass.
Damn, it was cold. He could feel the chill against his palm. Looking beyond his hand, he stared at the reflection in the glass; a much younger version of himself stared back. Then the other man moved, drawing his attention from his foppish hair style and trendy suit to the formidable form of Bill Acker, CEO Interplanetary Expeditions, Inc.
2142 CE - Interplanetary Expeditions Inc., New Toronto/Buffalo District, Eastern North American Metropolis
The balding man swiped his hands down the lapels of his business suit and slid his foot back a step. "Jack? Are you all right?" He laughed, nervous and shrill, a sound that always drilled straight through Jack's temples. How had the man risen to a position of such power when he laughed like a manic hyena? "I know that the offer is a big step, but not so big that it should throw you into a fugue state." The laugh died, replaced by a frown of real affection and concern.
Jack's turn to step back, covering the disorientation with a slow, heavily controlled and modulated chuckle. "I'm fine, Bill, just had a hell of a day." Turning, he looked out the window, recognizing the view in a dim and misty way. Damn, it must have been forty years since he last stood in that office, staring out over the city. How? He spun a slow circle, taking in the office and imposing but kindly figure of his first boss and mentor.
It had to all be some sort of dying flashback. One eyebrow migrated toward his hairline. People did claim that their life flashed before their eyes in the moments prior to death. He just hadn't expected it to be so vivid … or move so slowly. The phrase was 'flash before their eyes' after all, not crawl.
"Are Pat and the girls okay?" Bill asked, returning to the large, comfortable chair behind his desk. He'd had it custom made to cradle his large, comfortable bulk. Jack couldn't remember ever knowing a man more kind or generous … and generous in every way.
Jack Harper.
An unbidden smile worked its way across Jack's face. It felt strange to be sure, but also unbelievably good to find himself standing in Jack Harper's shoes once more. He glanced down, the smile breaking into a sardonic sort of grin at the canvas toes of his black Converse All-Stars sticking out from beneath the blade-edged creases of his blue, pin-striped trousers.
"Pat and the girls?" he asked, the words tumbling slowly out through lips gone numb, the smile drifting away. God, Jack's family. His family. Looking up, he took a step toward one of the chairs, bracing a hand against its back. "Yeah, they're fine," he said, wincing a little at the absent way he said it. He tried to conjure faces to go with the words, but they'd been gone so long. Gone since the first wave of Hierarchy forces swept the colony. One stray bomb and—
"Sit down." Bill's face creased into a heavy frown. "Are you sure you're feeling well?" He shook his head and leaned forward, his forearms pressed to his desk blotter. "You don't need to answer me about Mars today. Go home, talk to Pat and the girls about it. Rest up, and come back tomorrow and let me know."
Mars. Damn, he'd forgotten about that as well. Jack Harper's pre-Cerberus life had become the stuff of myth and guesswork as Cerberus and the Illusive Man emerged, even to him. He looked up, staring into Bill's eyes. Had he stumbled into the day Bill had asked him to head up the new division on Mars? He'd turned it down, stayed with the company on Earth and built up his own interests until the position on Shanxi opened. His wife and daughters had clearly rejected the idea of living under Mars's dome in prefab shelters.
Bill's stare darkened toward serious concern. Damn, he needed to say something, anything. The deal … he needed to work the deal. That would alleviate Bill's worries.
"I'd want to build out away from the colony," he said, words and plans appearing in his mind even as he spoke. "I don't mind using part of my trust, and I imagine Ben will want to be involved, but if we're going to build an R&D department on Mars, I want to move it south, away from the nationalist settlements." He paused, tilting into a whimsical sort of shrug, just throwing the idea out there. "Close to the pole, maybe. The Deseado Crater."
Bill grinned and leaned back, hooking his thumbs into his jacket pockets. "It sounds like you're vying for a partnership." His chin tilted up, his substantial jowl jutting out in what looked a lot like pride rather than any real concern. "Not trying to push me out, are you?"
Jack laughed, settling into the chair, the old life fitting more comfortably than he would have imagined. "Wouldn't dream of it." He filled his lungs with air conditioned, planetside air. "Partnership, however … that has occurred to me. We could make Mars my baby. In five years, the stars wouldn't be the limit any longer."
Chuckling that manic hyena chuckle of his, Bill pushed himself up and walked around the desk. "Talk to your family, first. Make sure they'll be able to live on Mars." Leaning back against the desk, he braced his hands against the edge to his either side, his gaze friendly, but frank as he looked down. "It's not an easy landscape for families, and if you want to build away from what passes for civilization, it'll be harder still." He held out his hand. "If they agree, we'll talk about the partnership and your plans."
Jack stood and straightened his suit before gripping the other man's hand. "You have a deal."
Bill nodded toward the door. "Now, go home, spend some time with your ladies, and rest up. You look like you've been spat out of the wrong end of a donkey."
A needle-thin shard of ice pierced Jack's chest, aimed straight at his heart. Go home? He hadn't had a home to go to in a very long time. He pressed a starched smile onto his face and nodded. "That's disgusting, Bill. See you tomorrow morning." The words came out, sounding strange and robotic, but no more robotic than his legs felt as he turned and walked out the office door.
Luckily, he made it to the elevator before stalling. What the hell was going on? Moments before, he'd been dying on the Citadel. Was it all a dying dream? Did he dare go out to the farm … dare to walk in that door and see those faces, forgotten out of necessity decades ago? His hand reached out, punching the controls for the executive parking level.
But what if this was it? If this was reality, what was everything else: Shanxi; the Reapers; Cerberus; Shepard; his entire life that ended on the platform on the Citadel?
That last, agonizing day on Shanxi—the day before he grabbed Ben and Eva, and headed for the Alliance headquarters—he'd stood over those three, hastily dug graves and made a single promise. Had he kept it or had that simple oath gotten lost in the details? Had he ever stopped to wonder what Patricia would have to say about the Illusive Man?
No. He never had. He'd left Jack Harper and his 'ladies' on that Shanxi hillside.
The elevator door opened, fresh air and the smell of hot pavement wafting into the small carriage. Closing his eyes, Jack drew in a long breath. Dear God, June on Earth, rich with the green scent of leaves too new to have lost their sheen … the complex honey, evergreen, and perfume scents from the company gardens … . It had to be real. It was all too vivid to be memory or imagination.
He stepped out into the sun, the rays heating his hair and the shoulders of his suit almost immediately. If everything around him was real, what did it all mean? A second chance? A head start on the work? His shoes moved over the stone walkway through the garden, rubber soles silent until he stepped into the parking lot where they made soft, cricket chirping sounds on the tacky pavement.
God was Patricia's province, he'd never believed in a power higher than humanity's ability to achieve anything … to realize its manifest destiny. Perhaps his displacement owed itself to that greater cause.
Stopping beside his car, he stared down at the sports car's sleek, black lines, a slow smile creeping back across his face. He really loved that car. Patricia refused to ride in it, calling it a death trap. Digging into his pocket, he found the keys and hit the control to open the top. As he settled into the seat, he took a deep breath. The scent of leather seats mingled with turtle wax and the sandalwood from the air freshener burrowed into his brain, sparking a small flood of memories: his father giving him the car after high school, and his mother hating it even more than Patricia did.
The car started with a touch, the engine roaring to life exactly two decibels lower than the legal noise pollution level. The sly grin making itself at home, he lifted off, roaring up into the traffic lanes that led out of the city.
A few kilometres per hour—seventy or so—over the speed limit, Jack zipped through traffic, heading north toward the edge of the massive city and home. Marvin and Juliette Harper had died in an accident while Jack was in university, leaving him their estate and a very comfortable fortune. He'd kept the estate, invested the fortune, and went back to university and then to work. His father had raised him to cherish a specific set of values, ones that had never let him down.
'A man works for what he wants, Jack. He works to make sure he takes care of his people. He works to ensure his family's comfort and happiness. And if he does, he'll end every day with a sense of accomplishment and be able to sleep soundly.'
The estate he kept for his family. Driving more than an hour into the city morning and night allowed his wife her gardens and his girls their ponies. It allowed all four of them a much needed peace in a busy and overcrowded world: picnics and bar-b-qs and afternoons by the lake. They all missed it very much when they moved to Shanxi.
A heavy frown settled over his face. They'd miss it all that much worse on Mars. Of course, if his agreement with Bill turned into a partnership, he'd be able to build them a home that brought a small piece of Earth with them. In seven or eight years, if the life that existed inside his head hadn't just been an illusion—if everything waited where he remembered—they could live anywhere they wanted.
Jack's breath hitched, sticking in his throat as the car descended toward the estate, turning to land on the white gravel of the driveway. Built in the early 1900's, the wattle and daub structure sprawled over nearly a half acre of the 160 acre parcel, each generation adding to it in some way. His father's obsession with vintage road vehicles had led to the much expanded garage. Perhaps Jack would finally sell the collection if they moved offworld. No point in them sitting there, rotting.
The front door opened even as his sports car settled to earth. For a single, breathless moment, no one appeared in the dark portal, and he wondered if perhaps he'd been sent to some sort of purgatory where his wife's cold, ancient god devoted itself to dangling everything he'd lost just out of his reach.
Then two bright faces appeared, their golden heads catching the sun, braids glinting. "Daddy!" Excited cries carried even over the noise of the car. Jack stared, captivated as his mind struggled to reconcile his memory of dead eighteen-year-old women with the bundles of giggling energy that raced toward him.
"Did you come home early just to sit in your car?" a teasing voice called from the front door. The smile … her smile … . For the first time in thirty years Jack Harper's eyes burned with threatened tears. If he'd been sent to hell, it was one cruel beyond imagining. Patricia cocked her head and closed her eyes. "I don't hear some terrible racket on the radio." Her gaze returned to his, her smile slowly fading. "Jack? You okay, hun?"
He forced a smile, his hand hesitating over the control to open the top. The girls bounced outside, so very alike unless one knew that Megan's eyes leaned more to olive than pine, and Rachel's right eyebrow bore a scar from a tumble off her pony earlier in the year. If he opened the car and they wrapped their arms around his neck, and he closed his eyes to breathe them in … then he found himself back on the Citadel ….
If it's going to shatter, let it shatter now.
A thought whispered through the maelstrom. What if he'd died? That scenario presented the most obvious and believable solution. He'd died, and all of this amounted to what came after. Had he earned a boon that massive?
"Jack?" The fear creeping into Patricia's voice pulled him back. If he stayed in the car any longer, she'd really start to worry, and she possessed far too vivid an imagination for him to allow that juggernaut to gain any speed. He touched the control and turned to meet the eager, speed-talking, giggling embrace of his twins.
Their whip-thin arms tangled around his neck, pink cheeks pressed to his. Slipping his arms around their backs, he held them tight against his chest. A soft gasp greeted the familiar forgotten beat of their hearts, quick and merry. His eyelids drifted closed as he pressed a kiss to each soft, cool cheek, and the scent of strawberries and wood shavings, grass and horses enveloped him. The earlier shard of ice thawed into a splinter of something a great deal warmer and more painful. When he breathed his daughters in deep, it pricked his heart, goading the withered organ into a strong, solid beat, and once again, tears burned his eyes.
His girls.
"Daddy," Megan said, wriggling as her giggles erupted into squeals, "you're squeezing me too tight."
"What? I'm not squeezing tight enough?" He squeezed tighter and brushed his cheek against hers, turning her squeals into laughter. Turning to Rachel, he pulled back a little, meeting her lovely, emerald eyes with a serious frown. "What about you? Not tight enough?"
She stared into his eyes, truly serious. Kissing him on the cheek, she lifted a hand to press against his chin. "Why are you sad, Daddy?"
Still holding a girl in each arm, he stood, settling one on each hip. "I'm not sad, starshine. Mr. Acker just made me a big offer today, and I need to talk to you two and Mommy about it."
"I guess we'd better make some lemonade and sandwiches, then get to talking about it, hadn't we?" Patricia asked, stepping around the front of the car. She leaned in, her lips soft and loving despite the chaste kiss she pressed against his mouth, her scent an adult version of their daughters'. His heart stirred in his chest once more, a rustle rather than a beat, but more than he'd felt in a half-century.
"That sounds good," he replied when she pulled back and relieved him of Rachel's weight. His arm free, he closed up the car, then quick-stepped up behind his wife, wrapping that arm around her waist. Sandwiches and lemonade had never sounded better.
If he'd been sent back or given a second chance to make sure that humanity came out on top of the war, the power and knowledge of the Reapers harnessed to uplift humanity beyond their wildest aspirations, he'd use it to his full advantage. He'd see it done. But the work wasn't his only second chance, and he intended to make the most of the gift in his arms as well.
"Mmmm, it's stifling in here, Jack." He heard the patio door roll open a couple of metres behind the couch. "A fire? You trying to cook yourself?" Her footsteps padded softly on the thick carpet as she approached, circling the end of the couch. "You've been so quiet tonight." Patricia curled one leg under her as she sat on the butter-soft leather, facing him. She leaned in, her elbow on the back, her fingertips brushing the hair around his ear. "What's weighing so heavily on your mind, hun?"
Jack closed his eyes, the light from the fireplace still dancing on the inside of his eyelids, and slipped sideways to lean into her touch. "What does your Bible say about second chances?" he asked, choking a little on the hesitant whisper. Telling her about his experience, about his other life, might scare her, or leave her convinced that he was insane, but he needed to talk to someone about it. The entire thing dwelt too far outside his understanding of science, life, and the universe.
She shifted so that her arm cradled him against her side. "He sacrificed His son to give everyone a second chance, so I'd have to say God is all about granting them." The gentle pressure of her brow rested against his temple, and for a second he felt something stir . "And third chances. Why? Does this have something to do with Bill's job offer?"
Jack took his wife's hand, lacing their fingers together, his thumb brushing the web between her thumb and first finger. "Sort of. Something very strange and very real has happened to me, and even though you'll probably think me mad, I want to tell you about it." He paused, frowning for a moment as he tried to remember the last time he'd consulted with someone about anything. He asked for intel, estimations, and requirements then gave orders.
"Tell me," she said, her thumb caressing the creases from his brow. "It never hurts to get a second opinion, even if that opinion decides that you're completely insane." She chuckled, a warm, throaty sound that never failed to make him smile, the cool tip of her nose 'bunny kissing' his cheekbone. Twenty five years they'd been together when that bomb fell—a true partnership even though she never stepped inside his office.
People gossiped and wondered about his private life as the Illusive Man, pairing him with a wide variety of women and aliens: most favoured asari and for good reason. He entertained a long line of women, and hired a team of agents to do nothing but plant proof, wipe memories, and leave the right people believing the image he wished to portray. If a single one of them had met Patricia, they would have known that he could never replace her, even had he wished to.
No, after she died, his life was the work. What he learned from the incident with the Arca Monolith couldn't be forgotten, nor could it be ignored. Preparing for the Reapers certainly hadn't left time for dalliances. Still, it had provided him with a small amount of pleasure to know that everyone from the tabloids to the Shadow Broker believed the fiction. By 2185, even if someone had shown the galaxy video proof of his real life, they would have never believed it.
"Tell me, Jack. I know you, and the level of insanity you'll allow yourself. If this has you tied in a knot this tight, you know I'll believe you." She curled in against his side, her heat along his ribs and thigh, her arms draped over his shoulder and stomach, loose and still.
"I don't know whether it was a dream or vision, or if this is the fantasy, but I experienced an entirely different life, Patricia." It took more than three hours to lay that other life out before her. She remained silent but for a couple of questions, and although she stretched to ease cramped muscles, she never moved away from him. In fact, if anything, she moved closer.
When he finished with his death on that lonely platform, his purpose unfulfilled, she took a long, shuddering breath in and pushed away from him. "This calls for a quick bathroom break and large glasses of lemonade," she said, a clipped pronouncement as she stood and stretched. She looked down and held out a hand, pulling him up. "I've been sitting there with my legs and eyes crossed for a half hour, so you get the drinks while I pee."
Jack laughed and gave her a gentle push. "Go then, and quickly." He watched her scoot for the hallway, her tanned arms and legs dark against the light yellow of her shorts and t-shirt, and smiled as he shook his head. The bittersweet splinter worked its way deeper between his ribs. It pricked his heart again, the dead organ taking two entire beats before stilling in his chest once more.
He filled two tall glasses with ice, pouring the lemonade absently as he wondered how his wife was reacting to hearing about another life where she and the girls died on a distant planet.
"I think you've been given an extraordinary gift, Jack." Her voice washed over him like warm water, and he closed his eyes, willing her to speak again. Instead, her hands slipped around him from behind. "We'll move to Mars. You, Ben, and Eva will search out those ruins, and you'll use this vision God sent you to build a future where children don't die to alien bombs or live in fear of the monsters moving out there in the dark."
He turned in her arms and reached up to cradle her face in his hands. Serious, loving green eyes stared into his, and his heart gave an experimental beat then another. "Life on Mars won't be easy," he said, knowing he didn't need to.
"Some things are worth a sacrifice or two." A bright, intense smile illuminated her beauty. "God sent you this vision for a reason, Jack. He's seen into your heart and your mind, and He's named you worthy to take his people forth into the next promised land." Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him, a kiss full of ardor and joyous passion.
As he kissed his wife for the first time in decades, Jack Harper's heart began to beat again, blood surging through his veins full of a fire he'd forgotten along with everything else. Patricia, as always, had seen straight through to the heart of it. He'd believed himself humanity's champion, and God-sent or not, he'd use every scrap of knowledge inside his head to make sure that humanity came out on top.
A-N: Sooo many head canons at work here for our dear Jack Harper ... but those HCs are built from the wikis and game/codex info.
So, yes, Wrex's 300 years will still be covered, but I didn't want to leave everyone else hanging until 24-30 chapters of Wrex had gone by, so we'll be jumping back and forth in time. Everyone is within their own lifetime/timeframe, so it shouldn't get muddled. :D
Thanks so much for reading and your support. I truly appreciated it.