-Jane-
She is here again, this place of cold and silence clouded by a blanket of fog, but with a purpose, a direction if there is such a thing here.
She must find the children, follow the laughter and patters of bare feet over the concrete.
Ignored are the towering monsters in the mist, their heavy footfalls making no noise in her ears as she runs, chasing much smaller shadows. If she can only reach them, she can fool herself into thinking they are safe, but, she knows, even here, the falsehood of safety never lasts.
She is not alone in her hunt, she can tell. No, there is something else here with much heavier steps than her own, whirring clicks and near quiet growls from the fog the only signs of its presence. Whatever it is, it stays beyond her sights, behind the shadows, save for a pair of glowing blue eyes, gone as quickly as they appear.
A giggle grabs her attention and she runs, rounding the corner to what looks like a school building from the chalk drawings on the ground that make little sense to her. Standing there before her are the two most beautiful children she's ever seen, her children.
Her son and daughter, and she never needs to be assured the two are really what she thinks, look at her the moment she sees them, stopping whatever game they're playing. A moment of silence passes before they grin deviously and run, their ball discarded and immediately growing flat at their loss.
"Wait!" She runs after them, sprinting as fast as she can but still moving no faster than a crawl compared to the pace of their little legs. In a flash, her son and daughter are gone to the darkness and she doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to stop them from running into the danger she knows is towering right above them.
Panting with burning lungs, she stops with her hands on her knees, nearly collapsing in exhaustion. She knows it's this place that's draining her so quickly, but she hates herself anyways, inwardly curses herself for letting them escape her grasp. So close to them, yet so far away, is all she can think as she fists her hands in the air, groaning in frustration.
As if hearing her defeat, that same sound of snickering snaps her head up and there - right there down the street - are the two little children in their slightly disheveled from playing clothes. She can't help the hopeful smile as she reaches out a gentle hand, trying to plead for them to stay as she tries to close the distance, her feet never seeming to come any closer.
Mere steps into her struggle through the fog and the source of that clicking and growling makes itself known. Cutting through the fog before her, standing tall, is a husk of a living person, but not the twisted forms of humans, but the demented, broken and perverted image of a Turian.
A Turian with blue over his cheek and mandible on one side and large, ropey scars along the other.
"No… Oh God, no…" She whispers as it approaches from behind their children. Seeing him, her love, so broken, so twisted into the image of the Reapers is a heart shattering fear that sends her to her knees. "Please… Garrus."
Tilting its head in confusion, the thing that took her husband brushes past their smiling children, purring a disjointed, mechanical sound as it approaches. She sobs, hiccuping and gasping for air as its hand reaches out and, despite every part of her screaming she should be fearful of a Reaper's touch, she only sees the blue of his eyes in its metal skull.
Its ghost of a touch to her cheek brings new tears, wails of pain that only strengthen when it turns from her, going to the smiling and purring twins. Each of her children take its hands and, trying as hard as she can, she cannot force herself to her feet or composure, the fog around her like shackles on her body and mind.
"Garrus! Please!" She screams to it, pain and fear in her every jagged breath. "Don't leave me! Please," she whispers, begging as its form begins to fade in the shadows, "Please don't leave me alone…"
She wakes with a weak gasp, widen eyes skipping over the room before her senses take in her surroundings.
The room is barely lit from the source of the bubbling in the distance, at her back is the soft rumbling snore of her husband and before her the soft, sleeping smacks of dreams of mealtime, the only thing their twins look forward to right now, it seems. Next is the feeling of a chill in her bones - not helped by the window above their bed the Alliance thought was a great fucking idea to reveal - that is melted the closer to the body at her back she scoots and by the soothing weight of the arm slung over her waist and the hard muscle and plate beneath her head. When she turns her head, she can smell the soothing scent beneath her cheek that is uniquely his, worn leather heated by a bright sun with an almost spicy musk. Last, her fingers itch to touch as she runs her palm up his arm to his hand, linking her fingers in his and smiling at his squeeze.
One hand in his, she reaches her other out to their sleeping children. Gently caressing over Damocles' mandible makes him attempt to nibble at her finger, but without teeth, it merely brings a bigger grin to her lips. Why her dreams torture her with the only things she loves in this universe, she wants - needs - to know, even when it doesn't change how hard she will fight to ensure her worst fears don't even come close to being fulfilled.
She should have known even the slightest of movements would attract attention, for she's soon made aware she isn't the only one awake. She first notices the change in the grip on her hand, the more controlled squeeze, before the arm over her waist shifts to lay a warm palm over her belly. "Bad dream?"
"You never have them, do you?" She asks as she rolls to face him, letting their children sleep - they'll wake soon enough screaming for food like they did a few hours ago, anyway,
Rumbling, he strokes the back of a finger over her nose and says, "I used to, but now the only thing worth worrying about is what's out there. But then that'd be a waste of good sleep, sleep we barely get as it is with the babies."
She snorts softly and nods. "True. Wish it were that easy to shut mine off."
"Jane…" He sighs and cups her cheek, to which she leans in. "I only ever had nightmares on Omega. Never had them before or after, so I can't imagine what you're seeing or experiencing." At her frown, he shifts and soon she feels his breath against her face and his forehead to hers. "That doesn't mean I'm not here to help you through it. Don't get lost in them, Jane."
"I'll try," She whispers before sliding closer to him on the bed, pressing tightly to his front as he purrs with his arms holding her close. "I dreamt of you and-"
Seeing that moment as the perfect time to want food, the twins begin to cry in tandem. She will never be able to know why they seem to have that secret ability to both need attention, food, sleep, or a change at the exact same time, but at least it gives them a reason to only get up once for each crying session to tend to both than to tend to them at two separate occasions.
She and Garrus get up together and take to their children, Cassia always quieting easier to his purrs and coos and Damocles paying more mind to his mother's soothing voice and rhythmic humming. Luckily, they have plenty of baby supplies up in their Loft to not have to run the risk of taking their supposed-to-not-exist human Turian children all over the Normandy more than they have to. It wouldn't be safe to parade their 'happy little family' in front of many of the crew than most likely left loved ones back on Earth, a crew that could be scared, worried, and looking somewhere to aim those emotions other than this inescapable war.
She gently soothes the baby in her arms as she uses the odd shaped Turian spoon for infants, feeding what looks so similar to her own people's smashed up baby mush. The only difference here is most all the dishes she found were meat based and still had shredded up pieces of whatever food they were mixed it, and they smelled funny to her own nose.
Not that she cared all that much. Hell, she was overjoyed that the normally fussy babies were actually more interested in food now than they ever were, sucking down every last oddly-shaped spoonful. They didn't even need the tricks of dabbing their food covered fingers in their mouths or, as Garrus first tried and learned the hard way, show them it was good to eat by trying a bit on their own. It was a fun experience to watch her Turian husband turn green and nearly puke while two little babies chirped and made garbling sounds that sounded an awful lot like giggles, or so Jane would assume.
"Shepard, we have reached the Annos Basin," EDI announces over the system as Jane just finishes up feeding their son, unconsciously opening and closing her mouth in time with her son's. "Both the Krogan and Salarians have agreed on the Normandy as a neutral meeting ground for negotiations. Shall I alert Joker to dock at each and receive the negotiating Dalatrass and Urdnot Clan leader?"
Sighing, she wipes Damocles' mouth and gives the empty jar to her mate's offered hand. "Yes, EDI. And have them taken to the Conference Room on Deck Two. Is Liara awake?"
"Yes, Shepard. Would you like me to ask her if she is available to assist with tending to your children?"
"Yes." The comm audibly clicks off, a requested feature of many aboard to make sure EDI wasn't intentionally listening in a way that Joker, too, could overhear. It seemed almost like the AI was getting too used to her new body in, more than once according to crew stories over Mess, manually using the intercom and forgetting to close it. EDI hearing in wasn't the problem, but the running mouth that was the pilot was and the less he knew about what Jane and her husband did up here, the better.
"You really want me down there?" Garrus tilts his head in curiosity as he follows her to the desk turned changing table, gently holding their daughter to his keel. "I just figured-"
"You'd calibrate while I did all the hard work?" She smirks and chuckles at his exasperated sigh. "Besides, you're a Spectre and Praetor now, so you need to be there with your Primarch… and your wife. You can't leave me to deal with diplomats alone."
Seeing her pouted lip, he snorts and shakes his head, but agrees, "Fine, fine. I'll be there. Though two Turians might look bad."
"Tough." Tickling their son's now full belly, she holds her breath as she opens up the Turian diaper, quickly tossing it and grabbing a warm wipe her mate offers. As she cleans off the baby's cloaca, he then hands her a clean cloth and holds the fresh clothes in his hands. Tying up the cloth into a diaper with practiced ease – which really just means she only had to start again once more – she smiles as she clothes their now clean son.
"Whew… Stinky boy," she jokes at the chirping baby, really knowing that, while not the smell of roses, their children's smell isn't that bad. Or at least not as bad as vids make them out to be. Shouldering him, she looks to her husband. "Your turn."
"'My turn'? What ever happened to us going into hell together?"
She laughs loud at that and offers their son for a trade. "You're such a lazy piece of shit, you know that? Come here, little girl." Chuckling together, they move to repeat the process with their daughter, talking through the held breaths. "You willing to convince Victus of whatever Wrex is going to ask for?"
"So long as it isn't the death of Turians, then yeah," he answers, rubbing Damocles' back in soothing circles as she just finishes up. "But I think even he knows we will have to make a deal and he's willing, he just doesn't want to waste time – what do you say?"
"Pussy footing around?" she supplies with a smirk and chuckle at his nod.
"Yeah, that." Following her to the crib, he gently lays Cassia beside her brother, the two sharing warmth. "To be honest, it's not the two of them I'm worried about, it's the Dalatrass and the lack of the Asari. From what the Councilor told you, the Salarian government is going into this already waiting to say 'no' to anything Wrex says." They both begin to dress, she in her dress blues and he – surprise, surprise – in his newest set of silver and blue armor. "It doesn't bode well."
"I know," she agrees as she hastily starts to try and tame her wild locks, smiling when she feels his talons combing through her hair to help as he always does. That gives her the chance to finish up buttoning and pinning whatever she always manages to miss, it being so long since she's worn formal blues. "I'm willing to knock in heads if I have to, though. The Dalatrass thinks she can control the board by running off the Asari because she's pissed off, then I'll show all them who the bigger bitch queen on this ship is."
"You sound like Aria," he says with a chuckle as he completes her hair as best as can be done given the time and tends to the last of his armor.
Scowling at her image in the mirror, she snorts at his remark. "Aria doesn't do diplomacy. Lucky blue bitch." Both as ready as they'll ever be, she heads to the door just as T'Soni comes in. "Liara, sorry to dump them on you so early-"
A raised hand stops her, followed by a smile as she says, "It's alright Shepard. I was already awake, so a change of company and scenery is nice." Pausing, she removes an OSD from her white jacket and hands it over. "Poe has been looking into leads for me concerning anything that can help us translate the blueprints for the Prothean device, maybe help to find out what the Catalyst is, and she found something on Eden Prime. Shepard, I think it may help us decipher the rest."
"You mean if we're lucky," Jane rebukes with a sigh and tosses the OSD onto her desk to take a look at after the negotiations. "I'll give it a look and see what we can do." Giving a nod to Liara in thanks and passing, they take the lift down to the CIC and make haste to the already ongoing negotiations.
"I have no time for it. Just tell us what you want." Victus' voice is firm as always, which is good considering Wrex's sounds all too angered – must have been something the Salarians did or said.
"I'll tell you what I need… a cure for the Genophage."
"Absolutely not! The Genophage is-"
"Something that your people should be ashamed of," Jane interrupts, the door sliding behind them at a nod in greeting between the three old friends. "Whatever the reasons were then, it's time to stop living in the damn past."
"A past one thousand, four hundred, and seventy-six years in the past, if you're keeping track," Wrex adds.
The Dalatrass throws her hands, enunciating with her hands against Wrex's scowl and whatever near silent conversation Garrus and the Primarch are having. "It was a thousand years of peace! Free from these… uncivilized brutes!"
"Enough!" Victus cuts in, stepping forwards and fueled by whatever her husband shared with him. "Whether or not they deserve a cure is academic. What's important is that it would take time to formulate one, even for someone who currently has information beneficial to its development." He gives a pointed look to the Dalatrass, who simply crosses her arms with a raised chin. Should have known Garrus would remember Mordin, that old genius bastard.
"I have no idea what you are talking about, Primarch, and I find you blatant insinuation insulting."
"I know of this 'information'," Wrex snaps at her, giving Garrus a nod in Jane's sure is thanks. "A Salarian scientist, Maleon, grew something you slithering bastards don't have, a conscience. He was on my planet testing a cure on our females."
Jane looks to him, not sure if this information – and the fact that they don't even know where Mordin is to help – can really bring about a cure in time. "We saved the data he had, but his experiments killed all the test subjects."
"That's where you're wrong, Shepard." He walks over to the room's image projector and links up his tool to a vid that seems like it was filmed in secret, low and unsteady as if the camera is being head at one's side or on their clothes. "There were surviving females, but the Dalatrass here sent in a team to clean up the whole mess…" The image focuses on a set of what looks like glass containers, within the forms of Krogan, slightly shorter and sporting a much shorter hump. Female. "These damn Salarians took them prisoner."
"Where," the Dalatrass sputters, looking around the room as she turns to each, all except the angered Krogan. "This could be a fabrication!"
"Don't insult me!" Wrex slams his fists against the table, leaving noticeable dents. "Those are my people! They're immune and you're going to give them back!"
"So it is true," The older Turian looks to the angered Krogan, rumbling in thought, and for the first time since trying to maintain a level of clear-vocaled neutrality. "Dalatrass, how long have you known about this? Kept these women?"
"How will curing the Genophage benefit my people?" Deflection under pressure, always a sure way to make show your enemy they have won, bested you.
"'Join or die'," The red head quotes an old saying from a long ago human war, turning her attention to the woman. "You deny the Krogan, you make an enemy out of Krogan, Turian, and human alike."
"The Commander is right," The Primarch and Praetor stand beside the Krogan, an invisible way between everyone and the single Dalatrass. "Refuse to return the females and Garrus and I will be the last friendly Turians you ever see."
"I wouldn't say I'm friendly right now," Garrus corrects with a growl, crossing his arms. Good man, hate the damn woman openly for me.
Seeing the Salarian woman rubbing a circular pattern over her hooded forehead in frustration fueled thought, Jane says with a mirror of her mate's stance. "Time to make your choice, Dalatrass Linron."
There is a tense silence as the woman must be running through options, through inevitabilities, in her head before, finally, she sighs in defeat. Her voice is a near whisper as she speaks, but the barely hidden anger is obvious. "The females are being kept at one of our STG bases on Sur'Kesh-"
"Garrus-"
"On it," he responds without any real order, nearly storming from the room to set for their destination and be ready the second they rid themselves of the Dalatrass.
"I warn you, all of you! The consequences of your selfish, reckless actions-"
"Don't mean a damn to me if the Reapers win, so you can shove your consequences up whatever hole you shit out of." Wrex chuckles at that as she turns to him, motioning with her head and ignoring the Salarian. "I know better than to expect you to stay out, so get prepped to get your females."
"You are not setting foot on Sur'Kesh! Something like this needs time to-"
Growling, Victus actually steps before the Dalatrass, cutting off her tirade with a glare. "The Normandy has two Spectres aboard. The exchange happens now."
"Primarch Victus, Wrex, see yourselves to whatever station you need to prepare. This negotiation is over." She waits until the others take their leave, Wrex with a clear direction in his step, before turning to the other woman. "Someone will see you to your ship." Which is a nice way of saying get the fuck off my ship, you dumb bitch.
"I won't forget this, Commander! A bully has few friends when she needs them most!"
Storming out which a jerk of her head to Campbell to see out the Dalatrass, she promises to never forget this as well. After all, stupidity like hers are one of the most dangerous things right now for this war.
She finds Wrex waiting, impatiently, beside Garrus at the Galaxy Map. There's not much they can do until they disconnect with the Dalatrass' ship, but she knows it's not in his nature to sit around waiting when he knows where he should be. It is something the two of them share, but she may actually have a remedy to help distract the old Krogan.
"Shepard."
"Wrex." He nods in greeting as she comes to him, jerking her head to the lift. "Come with me. You won't do anything her but get pissed when the Dalatrass passes, so I think I will show you something."
"Not interested."
She chuckles and smirks, saying, "Oh, I think you will be." At his scowl, she smiles warmly. "I think it can help reassure you that this cure is possible."
That gets his attention as his head jerks to look at her completely. Garrus leans on the railing to hide his smirk, she sees, as the Krogan demands, "You have something for the Genophage?"
"I might. Or, at least, it could help if we ever manage to get Mordin on board. He'd know best how to use it."
"Spit it out, dammit."
"Me, Wrex… or, well, a part of me." She pats her belly and explains when he scowls in confusion, probably assuming she's playing a cruel joke. "Look, it might be easier to show you, but Mordin himself knew of tech in me that could do some pretty awesome shit. Pretty sure he has data on it, probably tried to mix it with Maleon's data."
"What the hell it is?" One of his scaled brows lift, eyes squinted in that all-too-Wrex look of confused suspicion.
Rumbling, Garrus finally manages to control himself and stand, looking to them. "She had twins, Wrex. My twins."
She was expecting something akin to the stunned confusion she and her husband had when they first found out, but not what he actually does. Instead of gaping in shock, he grins wide and says, "Where are they, then? And why didn't you just spit it out?"
Chuckling, she shakes her head. "Should have known…" With a wave of her hand to follow, she heads to the lift and hits the command for their Cabin, knowing Garrus will plot the course and head up as soon as he is able.
"I take it you popped them out on Earth?"
She snorts. "'Pop' isn't the word I'd use, more like they were ripped right out of me by a witchdoctor." She holds up a hand, flexing her fingers into 'claws' to illustrate, but he merely shakes his head, unconvinced. "No? Fine. Then I was put under and they gave me a C-Section. So boring."
"You're jokes have gotten worse, Shepard."
"Again, it's technically Vakarian. And secondly, I was up nearly all night carrying for babies, so you can just shut the fuck up and pretend." She smirks and bumps his armored side as the doors open to the Loft. "Now how about you meant my son and daughter?"
Liara, sitting on the couch while reading a datapad with the carrying crib beside her, stands and smiles wide. "Wrex," she says as she goes to him, hugging the massive Krogan, if a bit awkwardly given his full armor. "It's been a long time."
"See you're back with Shepard."
She nods and looks to Jane. "I take it that the negotiations went well."
"As well as possible. We're headed to Sur'Kesh, so be ready in case I need a big drop." The young Asari nods and takes her datapad, smiling at their old friend before heading out. "Well," Jane starts as the doors close and she goes to the crib. "I guess it's time," she leans and picks up Cassia, figuring it better to start with the less attitude driven of the twins, "You meet Cassia."
She's never seen the look in Wrex's eyes as he takes her daughter in his, his wide hands dwarfing her in a similar, yet different, manner as her father's. He goes awfully quiet, red eyes just looking over the tiny form pawing at the air, and Jane almost wonders if the Krogan is still thinking about the heady talk downstairs when he slowly begins to emit a sound that builds into a loud guffaw.
Sighing in relief, Jane chuckles with him and sits beside him with Damocles on her shoulder. "And here I thought you were going to insult my motherly skills or something."
"Still might," he grumbles with a smirk as he lifts Cassia up, eyes squinting as he looks her over. "Looks too much like her whelp of a father." Jane snorts at that, before he corrects. "Got fingers like you."
"Yeah, they don't have too much from me. Mostly all genetic, from what Mordin said – or whatever I could understand."
"You sound like me with all that science crap." He hums and looks to her son, cradling Cassia in an arm and reaching out towards Damocles. He must touch him in a way that angers her feisty little boy, because he soon growls and grips onto her shirt, but that just makes Wrex laugh. "Like his mother, then."
"Huh? How so?"
"Trust me, Shepard. He will be. Name?"
"Damocles." He frowns, affronted. "What now?"
"You didn't name either after me."
