Year 2160
John sat slumped in the hospital bed, staring at his hands. He let out a shuddering breath, trying to stay calm. Janey was missing. He'd fallen asleep and now she was gone.
Mommy told him to look after his sister.
It was all his fault.
Slipping quietly out of the bed, John made his way to the door of the ward. One boy watched him as he went. Lots of these kids had casts and stitches and big heavy-looking bandages. They didn't seem to sleep well. Every noise startled them awake.
Quickly, John snuck out of the ward. He stepped into the bright hall, before ducking into a storage closet. In school, John would hide in the janitor's closet from bullies. He His eyes widened when he stepped inside – it was way bigger than any closet he'd ever seen. It was full of bright and shiny shelves, piled high with white cardboard boxes, green blankets and blue towels.
John hid in the corner of the storage closet, finally letting himself cry. He pressed his hands against his mouth, trapping the sobs inside. His head shot up in when he heard the door open, and eyes alert as two women slipped inside. The hand stifling his sobs stifled a gasp of surprise.
"Hannah," the first woman said softly. "Sweetie, I can't imagine what you're going through. I am so sorry, sweetie. So sorry."
John pressed his hands against his mouth more forcefully, staying as silent and still as he could. Sometimes when his mommy's friends would come over, John and Janey would hide under their bed together, hands wrapped over their mouths to not attract attention. He was good at staying quiet.
The second woman fisted her hands in her short blond hair. "I don't know what I'm going through. Nothing makes sense, Tiff. Fuck, my son just died. How am I supposed to feel? Tell me how I'm supposed to feel?" She let out a sob, and clapped her hand to her mouth, eyes wide and wild. She dropped her hand suddenly, and started pacing. "Oh my god, this is going to destroy me and Frank… How can I face him and tell him I killed his son?"
"Don't say that. Don't even think it," Tiff snapped. "A bus crash killed your son, nine other kids and left a brother and sister orphans." She sighed. "Did you kill any of them? Are you responsible for those deaths?"
"Tiff, I know I didn't kill those kids, but I made Jonathan take that bus," Hannah whispered. "I all but killed him. I couldn't pick him up at school today. I had too much to do to prepare for Frank getting back tomorrow," Hannah started to cry, folding in on herself as the first woman – Tiff – wrapped her arms around the smaller blond woman.
"Oh, Hannah," Tiff said softly, holding her tightly. "It isn't your fault, Han. I promise you. A car spun out of control, and crashed into another car. The bus driver braked too hard, the bus rolled. None of that was your fault."
John watched the blond woman with interest. Her eyes and nose were bright red. She'd just lost her own little boy, and when he thought about that, he couldn't help but think of his mommy and Janey. He suddenly, desperately, wanted a hug, and couldn't contain the sobs.
Hannah straightened up. "Did you hear that?" She said, her voice sharp.
"Hear what, Hannah?" Tiff asked.
John scooted back as far as he could into the corner, but Hannah spotted him right away. "Hi there," Hannah called, her voice suddenly soft. "What's your name?"
"John," he whispered back, wiping his face dry quickly. "John Singer."
"Oh, honey," Tiff said softly. John suddenly noticed the id badge on her blazer. "You should be in bed."
"Have you heard about my sister? Has anyone found her?"
"Not that I've heard, honey," Tiff said.
"What is he talking about?" Hannah asked, looking back over her shoulder.
Tiff looked suddenly uncomfortable. "The hospital lost track of his sister."
"What? Why aren't the police here?" Hannah spun on her heel, facing Tiff. "How long has she been missing?" She hissed.
Tiff pulled Hannah away, whispering in Hannah's ear so John couldn't hear. He watched Hannah's face with interest. Her pale skin was flushing red. She looked furious.
She started arguing back, waving her hands, hissing so quietly that John could only pick up a few words here and there. Words like report, police, home, blackmail and deal. Tiff, her spine stiff with indignation, spun away from Hannah, now furious herself.
"Hannah," Tiff pleaded. "Your son just died. Can't you see how unhealthy this is? Please, think about what you're doing. Hannah..."
Hannah said nothing. Instead, she turned back to John, kneeling in front of him again. Quickly, she scooted forwards, reaching for the little boy. "You look like you could use a hug, John," Hannah said kindly.
John hesitated for only a second before flying into her arms. Hannah Shepard wrapped her arms around the little boy, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent. Hot tears bubbled up as she thought of her son, and she suddenly promised herself that she would dedicate her life to making sure that this little boy fulfilled his potential.
"Come on, John," she said quietly, holding him securely, and lifting him up. "Let's go."
Year 2186
John woke with a gasp, followed quickly by a groan. He sat up, cradling his head carefully in his hands. It was never just one beer when he and Jane started drinking. Somehow one always turned into three or four with them. And John's story had taken a long time to tell. They'd both been half-cocked by the time he'd finished with Saren and Sovereign.
Jane's hand had grabbed his when he told her about Ashley, and she hadn't let go until John had shrugged, looked over at her and said: "And now we're here." He'd been surprised to see evidence of tears – a dried salty track down one cheek, slightly redder than usual eyes and a faintly stuffed nose – but neither made mention of it.
John massaged his temples with a sigh that turned into a groan at a knock at the door. He forced himself up, and walked slowly to the door.
"Liara," he said in surprise. "Can I help you?"
"I've been forwarding the turian councilor information on the Prothean device," Liara began. "It can't be built without council support, but he's not budging until their primarch is safe."
John felt a flash of irritation at the asari's gently chiding words, and he turned from her. "I know," he muttered.
"Are you all right?" She asked solicitously, stepping closer to him.
He sighed and turned back around. "I didn't get what you'd call a good night's rest."
"There's more to it than that, isn't there? What's really bothering you?"
John stared at Liara for a moment. I have a hangover, probably wouldn't go over too well, and Liara was suspicious enough of Jane as it was. He rattled off something vague about earth, and let Liara comfort him. When the Comm Specialist's arrival interrupted their "moment," John felt nothing but relief. Soon, John wished for nothing more than for her babbling to stop. She was clearly clever, and far too eager to prove herself.
John listened to her prattle on, and suddenly grinned with realization. She was perfect for him. As a fairly good judge of character, John was certain that she wouldn't let him get away with slacking off on paperwork. It wasn't that he was lazy about his paperwork, he just didn't have the head for keeping everything straight. If everything was laid out for him, he'd get it done, but if he had to prepare everything himself… Well, the Normandy wouldn't run. Traynor was going to be the perfect fit. She just had that … organized, British feel to her.
Finally, despite his delight with his new Comm Specialist, John escaped to the mess, desperate for coffee. He poured the black shit into a coffee mug, followed by liberal amounts of creamer and sugar before taking a big gulp of the scalding brew.
"Morning, Johnnie."
John spun, startled, the hot coffee in his mug splashing onto his hand. "Ow, fuck," he cursed, meeting the eyes of his younger sister. "You don't look like you're hurting nearly enough. If you're not hungover, I'm going to shoot you with a concussive round."
Jane grinned, serving herself a cup of black coffee. "You'd think Cerberus would have had the foresight to provide you with advanced hangover cybernetics, or whatever you would call it."
"I hate you, why aren't you hungover? I do have superior cybernetic implants. And, we drank the same amount," he scowled, taking another deep drink of the steaming brew, ignoring the burning sensation as he slurped the coffee down. As soon as it hit his stomach, he started feeling better.
"Commander, we are one hour out from Palaven," EDI reported.
"Thanks, EDI," John answered. "Jane? Want to come with?"
"Yeah, I'm in," Jane replied. "You're bringing Liara, aren't you?"
"She's good, Jane," John informed her. "There's way more to Liara than meets the eye.."
"Yeah, yeah," Jane waved at him dismissively, wandering towards Life Support, coffee in hand. "See you in a bit."
John glanced back at the two women he'd chosen for his squad. They'd been snapping and bitching at each other since halfway to the moon's surface in the Kodiak.
Focusing his attention on the sat comm tower in front of him, he considered who to send. In theory, either Jane or Liara could do it, but he knew that Jane would fix it faster – and probably leave it better than new. Liara would do her best, and it would be good enough, but not great. Jane would fight him on it, and Liara wouldn't complain once. Tough call.
"Jane, see if you can repair it," John decided, glancing back at the structure behind him. Menae was inches from falling and the turians needed every advantage they could get. Jane would do the better job, and more lasting fix. It was a small action, but everything counted.
"Seriously?" Jane complained. "You've been sidelining me since I boarded the Normandy! Guard the door, fix the comm tower… you gonna send me back to the Normandy the next time EDI hiccups, too?"
"First of all, EDI doesn't hiccup. Second of all, you're the best suited for the job. And third? Well, third, Lieutenant, I am your commanding officer and you do what the hell I tell you," John glared at his little sister. "With a smile and a 'yes, sir!'"
"Fine," she replied, annoyed. "If you can keep husks from climbing up behind me, I'd be much obliged," she called back to him as she headed to the ladder leading up the Comm Tower.
"She didn't say 'yes, sir,'" Liara observed, her tone uppity.
John sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are you both going to act like petulant teenagers for this entire mission?"
Liara sent him an innocent gaze. With a grunt, John cast his gaze to the horizon, keeping his eyes peeled for husks.
Two large fireballs crashed down to the moon's surface. It was a terrifying delivery system. When it came to pure badass troop deployment, the Reapers had humans beat by a mile. John reloaded his Mattock Assault Rifle quickly, turning on the incendiary ammo in preparation.
"Here they come," John announced. "Ready, Liara?"
"Ready," the asari replied.
In those first few moments of battle, everything around John quieted until it was just him, his weapon and the next target. Heart beating loudly in his ears, aim dead-on accurate, John took out wave after wave of husks with efficiently deadly shots. Not a single bullet wasted, John Shepard shot to kill.
There was something almost mindlessly soothing about taking out these husks. They were uncomplicated prey. A shot to the head here, a butt of the rifle to the skull there, step back, roll to the side, shoot, punch, repeat. It became a dance, the soft whomp of Liara's singularities keeping a strange kind of time.
"Commander, I've repaired the tower's main satellite connection," Jane reported, her voice sounding tense and distracted. "On my way down."
In seconds, Jane was running by him, brightly gleaming sword in hand. She disappeared before his eyes, before reappearing directly behind a husk. John's eyes widened slightly in surprise when the sword sliced the husk in half. Effortlessly, Jane spun on her heel, impaling the husk running towards her. She tossed the husk to the side, disappearing once again, setting off some bizarre electric shockwave directly into a cluster of moaning husks.
Jane was right, he had been sidelining her. Not completely on purpose, but he'd done it nonetheless. On Mars John had ordered her to watch their six, made sure no one took them from behind. Jane had only seen action in the final mad dash after Coré – where she'd caught the incinerate to the chest. The conniving brat was being purposely vicious in battle to prove to him she was capable, he was sure.
It was an annoyingly kid-sister-like thing to do. Especially because it was working. The Jane he remembered did not fight like this. She was careless and reckless, and the job got done, but it wasn't pretty. Collateral damage wasn't much of a concern to her.
Before he'd known who she was, he'd filed over ten disciplinary marks on her record.
But this Jane was elegant. Her movements were efficient and graceful. She moved with intuition and deadly precision. Her skill with that sword was incredible. John could hardly keep up with how quickly she sliced the blade through the air, leaving carnage in her wake. She was a bloody killing machine. She was fucking awesome.
"General, do you read?" John asked suddenly, remembering their objective. "The Comm Tower is now operational."
"Much appreciated, Commander," Corinthus replied over the comms. "I'll contact Palaven Command."
"Let me know when you've got something," he replied, lining up his Mattock and shoting a bullet right into a husk's face. "I'll help your men until I hear from you."
"Understood," Corinthus answered.
"Shepard, out," John finished, punching a husk and shooting it as it reeled back.
"Take that, fuckers!" Jane cried triumphantly as she knocked three husks back off the cliff with a cackle.
"Barrier down!" Liara cried out from where she was being swarmed by a group of husks. John stopped watching his sister, and turned to lay some suppressing fire to cover Liara as she fled them.
After a moment to allow her barriers recharge, Liara sent out a brutally effective singularity, catching the remaining husks who chased her. One of Jane's electric shockwaves connected with it, resulting in the trapped husks exploding from the force of the electricity rushing through their bodies.
Jane laughed gleefully when she watched them disintegrate. "Dr. T'soni, I might just like working with you yet," she snickered.
"Hmmm," Liara replied, her voice equal parts amused and irritated. "That was very effective. What do you call that?"
John picked off the last husk of the rush.
"Area clear," Jane announced. "I call it an electric slash," she answered Liara.
"It looks like an electric shockwave. You should call it an electric shockwave," John observed.
Jane cocked her head to the side. He could only imagine the look on her face under that damned recon hood. "Shut up," she finally said, her voice strangled. "It's an electric slash. I invented it, I named it."
"I'm calling it an electric shockwave," he said calmly, shrugging, as Jane choked out an ugly response.
"Commander Shepard. Come in," Corinthus's voice flooded their comms.
"Go ahead."
"I have information from Palaven Command. Please return asap."
"On our way," John replied. He glanced at Liara and Jane, who were standing side-by-side, dramatically different, Jane in her black suit, Liara in her white one. "Let's go."
The three ran back at an easy jog.
"I don't like it when they just… disappear like that," Jane observed uneasily as they crossed the moon's craggy, uneven surface. "It's too quiet, too fast."
"You would rather constant attack?" Liara asked, incredulously. "The turian soldiers back at the base are exhausted! I'm sure they appreciate the break."
Jane sighed. "At least when they're attacking you, you know where they are."
"Approaching the base," John announced, if only to change the subject. The gates opened for them, and John headed directly to the General. "What've you got?"
"As your partner said, succession is usually simple," Corinthus sounded drained. "But right now, the Hierarchy is in chaos. With so many dead, or MIA…"
"I need someone. I don't care who. As long as they can get us the turian resources we need," John snapped, suddenly annoyed with turians and their obsessive need to follow the rules. Suddenly, John missed Garrus deeply, the best man – but worst turian – he knew.
"I'm on it, Shepard," replied a shockingly familiar voice. "We'll find you the Primarch."
John turned and squinted at the arriving turian, his face breaking out into a wide, relieved grin. "Garrus!" John exclaimed.
"Vakarian, sir," Corinthus said, suddenly flustered. "I didn't see you arrive!"
"At ease, General," Garrus said calmly, and John almost burst out laughing at Garrus Vakarian being in a position to tell a General to relax.
"Good to see you again," John interjected, drawing Garrus's attention back to him. "I thought you'd be on Palaven."
"If we lose this moon, we lose Palaven," Garrus replied. "I'm the… closest damned thing we have to an expert on Reaper forces so I'm…" Garrus trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Advising."
John turned around and stepped back, revealing Jane and Liara standing behind him. "Jane, this is Garrus Vakarian," he introduced. Jane sent John a look no one else would be able to decipher, one of relief on John's behalf that his best friend was safe. "He helped me stop the Collectors," he explained, even though Jane already knew. "He's a hell of a soldier."
Garrus went momentarily still, his predatory eyes flitting between the two of them, instantly aware of exactly who Jane was and her relationship to John. "Lieutenant," he greeted, his voice hard to read, before he turned to face Liara. "Good to see you, too, Liara."
"Good to see you in one piece, Garrus," Liara said, her voice friendly.
"Commander, the General filled me in, we know who we're after," Garrus continued.
"Palaven Command tells me that the next Primarch is General Adrien Victus," Corinthus informed John.
"Victus," Liara said, eyes distant as she tried to remember. "His name has crossed my desk."
"Know 'im, Garrus?" John asked.
"I was fighting alongside him this morning," Garrus nodded. "Life in the military, gets good results, popular with his troops… Not so popular with Military Command. He has a reputation for playing loose with accepted strategy."
John felt instant relief. Someone who wasn't afraid to break the rules was exactly who Palaven needed in control. As Garrus and Liara explained what was meant by "playing loose," John felt even more relief.
"You think he can get the job done?"
"We both know conventional strategy won't beat the Reapers," Garrus drawled. "Right now? He could be our best shot." Garrus paused, then met John's eyes. "And I trust him."
"OK," John nodded. "Let's get him on the shuttle and get out of here."