Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, save the OCs you will encounter in this particular story. It will not merely be a re-telling of the ME story as we know it, so expect changes and (hopefully) surprising and enjoyable twists! This story is rated M for a reason and will contain future scenes of violence, gore, sex, and various other mature situations. There will also be copious amounts of wonderful, wonderful angst. Please consider yourself warned.
***A/N: I am very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, folks. I have many chapters worth of ideas compiled and my storyline is many handwritten pages long, but I was unsure of how to proceed with this chapter and ended up rewriting it a handful of times. That coupled with writers' block and a demanding few weeks at work gave me little time to be productive with my stories. I truly appreciate your patience, readers. I am really excited about this story and I want to do it right!
As a side note (and for those who are curious) Eira's name is pronounced EYE-rah :)
Any and all reviews are appreciated! A big thank you goes out to everyone who has added this story to their alerts and/or faves! – Fallon.
Chapter Eight
"I think somehow we learn who we really are and then we live with that decision." – Eleanor Roosevelt
He paced the room, furious and impatient, his eyes darting between the clock on his omni-tool and the apartment's front door.
0400 hours…
Marin and his men were late and his own guards were urging him to leave, suspecting the delay to be part of a Cerberus ambush.
But he couldn't leave, not without getting the scraps of intel Marin had been able to gather on 'Valkyrie'.
Another five minutes passed and he could feel the heat of his anger steaming off of his skin. He grabbed an empty, dusty beer bottle from a stack of crates piled in the corner of the room and heaved it at the wall. It exploded into a thousand pieces and one of the guards on the other side of the room was hit with tiny particles of coloured glass that bounced off his armour and fell to the ground.
0415 hours…
The decrepit, squalid confines of the industrial tenement he had chosen to meet Marin in were merely one of hundreds that dotted the district. That's all New York was anymore, a series of districts all more disease-riddled than the last. Gangs ran rampant and there were whores on every corner along with dealers ready to sell a soul as much drugs as they had the cash for; enough to forget the pains of a world that, at best, didn't give a shit about the little man.
Good, decent people didn't reside here. They kept to the upper districts, closest to the historical part of the city were parks were well-manicured and every house had an alarm system. They all worked nine-to-five jobs and held on to the naïve notion that 'bad things' were restricted to happening only on the television screen.
That wasn't where he was safest. He'd stand out there, he and his men, with their SMGs, assault rifles and high-grade armour.
0425 hours…
No, he was safest here, in the tenement building on the worst street in the worst district that held more sand-blasted fools and whores than actual paying tenants.
Here he was just one more broken soul with bad intentions.
As far as Cerberus is concerned at least…
He smiled sadly at that. The good man he once was, full of hope and good intentions, was twenty years gone. He wanted revenge now, craved it like a drug fiend on the hunt for his next score. Sometimes the hurt made his thirst for revenge so desperate he wanted to rush ahead, storm every goddamned Cerberus base his men could find and take as many of them down before a bullet ended his pain.
But then he'd remember his promise.
Kathryn was dead, he'd failed her. She'd been tortured for months and when she finally succumbed to the eezo and radiation and god-knows-what-else they'd pumped into her, they'd kept her alive artificially until the babe inside her was ready to face the world.
Then they cut her open…
Tears came unbidden to his eyes and fell lazily down his weathered face.
He'd love her to the point of madness. And he'd failed her.
How many times did she call out for him as they tortured her? How many times had she screamed his name only for it to fall upon uncaring, unfeeling ears?
0437 hours…
Kathryn was beyond him now. She was dead and cold, a memory that haunted him for his failures and reminded him time and again of what he'd lost.
He failed her.
He wasn't about to fail their child.
The door hissed open behind him and he turned quickly, hand on the pistol strapped to his hip, only to be faced with Marin and two of his armed guards.
"You're late."
Marin entered the room, dismissing his men with a wave of his hand. He looked like hell but considering what happened on Nafna Station, he supposed bruised and sporting a sling on his right arm as well as two black eyes was getting off easy.
Marin glared at the guards that remained.
"Leave us, gentlemen." He said, catching his friend's nervous glancing. "Double-check the hallway and patrol the perimeter. Be ready to go at a moments' notice."
His men nodded and quickly departed.
The door shut behind them and Marin visibly relaxed, reclining on a soiled couch.
"I fucked up, Julian." Marin lamented as he rubbed his aching shoulder, stifling a curse and wincing as the pain flared, "I got the head of the program, Doctor Knowles. But Cerberus must have been tipped off, they sent Commander Shepard and –
"They sent a dead man?" Julian asked skeptically, crossing his arms and leaning against the worn wall, waiting for an answer that might lessen his anger.
I suppose I owe him some creds…
"Looked pretty fucking alive to me," Marin said, "He was with Jacob Taylor, I recognized him from my time with Cerberus. And Miranda Lawson."
Julian looked to his friend. He appreciated the risk Marin had taken in breaking into Nafna Station. From all their intel the station was well fortified and getting in couldn't have been easy. Even with everything they'd learned, both from their own hacking and spying and from dealing with the Broker, Julian knew in his heart something would go wrong. He'd been willing to risk that, to risk the life of his friend, in order to save her.
Julian swallowed the lump in his throat and hung his head, "Did you see her, Nikolai?"
Marin nodded, "She saw me standing over Knowles' body, put two-and-two together. She lost it, hit me with a biotic blast." He shook his head, "Julian, I swear to you, I tried. I tried to explain but she had no idea what I was talking about. She looked at me like I'd killed her whole world…"
"They've kept her in the dark," Julian realized and his heart sank, "It would make keeping control of her that much easier. It makes sense."
Marin looked up, "Julian…"
He stood up and began pacing the room. "Don't. We should have seen that coming. Cerberus is capable of anything, you and I know that too well. That they'd manipulate her…"
But they had already, hadn't they? They'd manipulated her from the beginning, right down to the genetic level when she was still in her mother's belly.
"She looked good though, Julian." Marin broke the silence, "Like she's been fed regularly, cared for. The reports from the Broker were accurate, she's got albinism. But she looks like her mother," He gave a small smile despite the pain this new setback brought, "Has those big eyes like Kathryn did."
Julian choked on a sob he hadn't realized was threatening to surface.
His memory of Kathryn was better than any picture. Her eyes and that puppy-eyed look she used to give him, had one many arguments. She'd given him that same look when she'd come to him with the Cerberus offer…
She'd believed in them and they'd returned that faith with torture.
Marin glanced up at him and saw the distant look in his friends' eyes, "Julian?"
He could still remember Kathryn's excitement when she found out she was pregnant. She'd been thrilled and he had been too…but he was also petrified at the notion of fatherhood.
And he'd fucked that up even before Eira took her first breath.
"Where is she now?" Julian asked, his voice so hoarse and strained he didn't recognize it at first. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Tell me you have a lead, Nikolai."
"Commander Shepard said he was there to bring her somewhere safe, no doubt on the Illusive Man's orders." He stood, albeit slowly due to his injuries, "If we find Shepard I'll bet we find Eira, Julian."
He nodded.
It wasn't a hell of a lot but it was something. The return of a dead spectre would at least draw the attention of important people in the galaxy, important people Julian was hoping they'd be able to buy off.
"Contact the Shadow Broker, see if his people have heard anything about what the commander is up to. Tell him we'll pay whatever price he requires for the intel." Julian stopped pacing and pulled up his omni-tool interface.
"I'm owed a favor or two from an old…friend in the Terminus Systems," Marin offered, "I'll look her up, see if she's in the helping mood."
Julian looked to Marin, to the bruises that covered his face and arms, to the dark black eyes that marred his face.
He sighed, "A favour from a friend…like I'm asking from you, Nikolai?"
"She was my friend too, Julian," Marin said sadly, "I'd help, even if you hadn't come to me with what you'd learned all those years ago. We all joined Cerberus because we wanted to make a difference," he sighed, "God, we were naïve back then."
Julian inhaled sharply, "She was the best Cerberus had…and they turned on her the moment her life was deemed less valuable than the potential she had as an incubator for a weapon."
Marin fell silent, unsure whether voicing his fear was wise. He looked at Julian and clearly saw the wear etched on the man's face. He was only forty-eight, but the lines around his eyes and mouth were profound. His tangled dark brown hair was tinged with more grey that it should be and age spots had already began to appear on his neck and face.
Marin knew this was sucking more out of him than the stubborn old fool would ever admit.
"I didn't exactly get a chance to speak to her, Julian. She may be more a weapon than –
"She's my daughter," Julian said firmly but without any real anger, "And I'll get her back from the murderous bastards who took her from me if it's the last thing I do."
The sudden, thunderous blast of commotion coming from just beyond her door woke her. She could hear panicked voices growing louder but could not make out who they were or what they were saying. But the sense of urgency was unmistakeable.
She sat up quickly, casting back her blankets and made for her door.
As soon as it hissed open she was hit by a wall of noise and the clamour of medical personnel bustling about, making for the med bay in a panic.
"He's coding!" Someone shouted.
Eira hurried to the med bay only to have the doors shut in her face. She had caught a glimpse of something large and clunky on the exam table but the swarm of techs surrounding it made it impossible for her to tell who was injured.
She moved around the corner to where she had noticed windows before but saw that they were fogged out to provide privacy.
"It's Archangel."
Eira spun around only to bump into Shepard. He was still wearing his hardsuit and when she hit his chest it nearly knocked the wind out of her.
He grabbed her arm as she stumbled backwards gasping.
"Are you alright?" He asked quietly while looking over her shoulder to the med bay.
She inhaled sharply, quickly refilling her lungs, and nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come up."
She saw Miranda appear behind him, her gun still strapped to her hip. Next to her was Jacob, who was also armed and had a disconcerting look on his face. They were both covered in dirt and grime, with dozens of scratches and small burns over their faces.
Eira looked to Shepard. Sweat and dust covered his face and dark, angry bruises were blooming around his right eye.
"What happened?" Eira asked quietly, in almost a whisper.
"Archangel…is Garrus Vakarian." Shepard said evenly, a pained look in his eyes. His jaw was clenched and he was looking beyond her to the closed door of the med bay, seemingly oblivious to much else beyond the chaos in Chakwas' clinic.
"Who?" Eira asked, looking over his shoulder to Jacob.
Jacob swallowed hard, "A turian. Used to be part of C-Sec," He looked toward the med bay, "He was part of the original Normandy's crew. He took a really bad hit."
Eira looked back to Shepard.
His friend…
"I –
Shepard stiffened, "Chakwas has him…he's in good hands." He blinked and it seemed to shake off the solemn trance he had been locked in. But Eira couldn't cast aside the feeling that he was trying to convince himself more than her.
He turned to Miranda and Jacob, "Drop your gear off in the armoury, and take care of your wounds. We'll debrief in the comm room in thirty."
Eira watched as he made for the elevator and the entire floor became silent save the muted sounds of doctors hurrying to save Archangel in the med bay.
The pure elation Shepard felt at discovering that Archangel was Garrus was quickly turned on its head when the gunship sprayed him with rounds. Garrus was a piece of his past, one of the few that he'd been lucky enough to have walk back into his life since his revival. But a hit from a rocket had jeopardized that.
The thought that Garrus might not make it crept into his mind and he immediately felt sick to his stomach. He'd lost too many friends in his life; Luca, Kaidan, his unit on Akuze…
He was tired of being the last one left standing.
Shepard stripped out of his armor and slowly made his way to the shower. His body ached fiercely, his arms and legs feeling like they weighed a ton, and he had to silently urge himself forward. He walked past the shattered remains of his mirror without a backwards look, stepping into the bitter cold torrent of water with a pained hiss. A wound he had forgotten about stung on his side, sending sparks of pain over his chest.
As he reached over to examine the wound better, he noticed a long angry wound running from his wrist to his elbow on his left arm.
Fucking varren…
His hardsuit had protected him from the full force of the varren's bite, but the suit had pinched and twisted his skin. A black and yellow bruise had risen and was transected by a long, jagged slash that distorted the tattoos on his forearm.
Cursing under his breath, he turned off the water and set about trying to find his omni-tool in the pile of clothes and armour he had left scattered on the floor of his cabin. He found it surprisingly fast, tucked under his chest piece near the foot of his bed, and applied a quick dose of medi-gel to stop the slow but steady stream of blood that oozed from the wound.
As the bleeding slowed, Shepard flopped down on his bed, naked and dripping wet. Looking down at the wound and the tattoos that did nothing but remind him of a time he'd rather forget, he couldn't help but think about what Eira had said.
"I like them."
After getting over the initial shock of her words, Shepard was immediately defensive and angry; reactions he was accustomed to and that had dominated his life prior to joining the Alliance. The images that dominated his arm were dark and more than half of them were done while he was high on red sand.
They were disgusting, vile, horrifying. He hated them, he hated this new and foreign body he'd been brought back to that was more machine and cybernetics than flesh and bone. He didn't want any of it, the resurfacing memories least of all.
Eira had doubted I was real…oh, how little she knows…
Hissing through clenched teeth, Shepard felt an old, familiar anger wash over him. His chest tightened until he finally managed to force the breath he'd been holding out, expelling a portion of his anger with it.
His mind stuck on his talk with Eira on the observation deck, the look she gave him as he left flashed in his mind and the lingering remnants of his anger dissipated.
Those pouty lips of hers curving into a soft, pale smile; her doe-like eyes bright and cheerful…
Fuck! Stop it!
Shepard cursed himself, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his fists against them.
She was safe and he didn't know what to do with that. She knew nothing about his life prior to the Alliance and only what was in the mission reports he'd provided. Would she still smile like that if she knew he'd gotten Luca, his best friend, killed? Maybe, if she was a good enough person. But would she still smile if he told her why he'd chosen to leave Kaidan behind on Virmire? Why he had to be the one to succumb to the nuclear inferno they'd unleashed on that lab?
Ash…
He loved her, allowed himself to get closer to her emotionally then he'd ever allowed himself to be with anyone before. And a good man had died because of it.
Selfish…a choice he'd have made back when red sand and whiskey controlled his life…
He couldn't stop others from getting close, those who had been there from the beginning. But no one else needed to know.
They…Eira…would be better off sticking to what the media reports said about him.
Spacer…Sole-Survivor…Paragon…the best the Alliance had to offer…
Everything else just complicated things.
Shepard left the comm room after Miranda, Jacob, Chakwas and Garrus had already left to return to their posts.
How Garrus was alive, Shepard still wasn't quite sure, but he was damn glad for it. Another person in his new life that he could truly trust was better than any other resource Cerberus could provide. Having him on the team felt like a win and gave Shepard a feeling akin to real confidence, hope. Like maybe he didn't have to fake the faith in the mission he was supposed to have.
Approaching his terminal next to the galaxy map in the CIC, he pulled up his unread messages. He quickly flicked through the ones flagged as being from the Illusive Man, paused for others from Cerberus R&D regarding armour for 'Valkyrie', and was nearing the end when one caught his eye.
Anderson…
That he wanted to meet on the Citadel didn't surprise Shepard, but that Anderson seemed willing to believe that the real Shepard was alive was unexpected. But then again, Shepard thought, Anderson had always believed in him.
"It's over, child, it's done."
He made up his mind almost immediately – the Citadel was going to be there next stop. It made sense to reconnect with Anderson, to try to repair his ties with the Council, maybe get their backing.
But he was also hoping to have the chance to ask Anderson about Ash.
"Commander?"
"Eira." He said simply, glancing over his shoulder at her when she remained silent.
She was wearing a tight black tee with Cerberus' logo plastered over her right breast and grey slacks. With her long hair tied back in a loose, messy ponytail, she certainly didn't look like she fit in on a starship. But, Shepard admitted to himself, she did look cute.
Her bangs were in her eyes but he could tell something was on her mind - she was frantically chewing the inside of her cheek.
"Everything alright?" He asked when she still said nothing.
She gave a quick smile as she sighed, "I was just about to ask you the same thing actually."
"Garrus is going to be alright," he said happily, something akin to relief washing over him as he said the words aloud, "Docs' patched him up with some cybernetics, he's good as new."
She smiled, as pure and soft as the one she'd given him on the observation deck and Shepard felt something inside of him wanting to do the same.
"That's good to hear." She visibly relaxed, "Planning your next move?" She asked, motioning to the active terminal behind him.
Shepard nodded, "We'll be heading to the Citadel next. I have to speak to an old friend of mine." An idea came to him and he caught her gaze, not failing to notice the hint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. "I'd like you to come along."
Surprised, Eira stammered to respond. "I…I've heard of the Citadel. Corrine said it was massive."
"It is." Shepard said, "There are millions living on the Citadel. Humans, asari, hanar, drell…its diverse, there's a lot to see." His voice softened, "It will be busy, chaotic, but you can actually see some of the things you've read about."
The prospect of doing just that brightened Eira's eyes.
"I'm in."
"Good. You'll need to wear something more appropriate though," He nodded at her and seeing the confused look she gave him continued, "You'd look pretty strange walking around next to two well-armed and heavily armoured soldiers when you're wearing slacks."
The light-hearted tone of his voice surprised even himself, but he buried the uncertainty it brought up in him and rooted himself to the moment, pinning his façade back in place and taking a deep breath.
Eira smiled and his façade shifted as his focus was pulled to the curve of her lips and the sweet softness they offered.
He clenched his teeth as he screamed at himself inwardly.
Stop! Stop! She's a kid, she's nothing to you! You don't care about her, don't think about her! Keep your distance!
He cleared his throat, "Cerberus has sent us a new suit of armour for you. We'll be in the Serpent Nebula in a few hours. Get some rest and be ready to suit up and head for the airlock when I give the word."
Excitement and apprehension rushing through her, she nodded quickly and hurried off to the armoury to get a look at what Cerberus had sent for her.
In her excitement she didn't look back. If she had, she would have seen the subtle curve in Shepard's lips, the pinch in the corner of his mouth that threatened to turn into a smile.
