Chapter 29: Haunted (II)

Shepard

As soon as our boots hit the ground, I knew today was going to be a good day. We'd got to Benning just in time to stop the first Cerberus shuttles from taking off, and this, right here, was a mission that everyone could get involved in, even the guards throughout the ship that had been itching for combat since the day the Reapers hit. There was an Alliance base nearby, but their numbers were low, and the support from the Normandy was all they needed to start taking back their colony from the people that had come to snatch their civilians.

The sense of liberation was spreading through the colony like a shockwave. I heard it in the distant shouts of civilians and soldiers alike, I heard it rustling over the commlink frequencies – the knowledge that the Normandy was here, that Commander Shepard was here, and that everything would now, somehow, be alright.

We moved through the colony, Garrus and Javik at my side while Kaidan and James led Alliance soldiers to secure a perimeter, and for the first time I felt at peace with the idea of being a symbol, a hero, even. If it meant I could do this all the time, if it meant I could actually make a difference to people's lives, physically pull them out of harm's way, then I could deal with that title, because at least I could live up to it. As we mowed down Cerberus's forces, I felt unstoppable. The sight of me cutting through their ranks in my distinctive armour, my helmet off and my guns blazing, was apparently enough to make their troops hesitate, retreat, and to give the trapped civilians a chance to sprint to safety.

Times like this, I fucking loved my job, and I loved whatever genetic accident had given me the reflexes to do it so damn well.

I'd sent the others after another cluster of agents while I broke off by myself to chase down one last squad that had splintered off. I slowed my stride to take careful aim and bang, the one in front of me fell forward with a strangled cry. I hurdled his body and swung around the next corner where his allies had ducked into cover, but not fast enough. I squinted against the bright sun, squeezed the trigger, and a Cerberus gun flew off to one side as I landed a bullet deep in an enemy's shoulder. As she recoiled in pain, another shot right between her eyes finished the job.

Like an idiot, her friend lifted his head to scan the horizon, and the first shot I fired shattered his shields, the second straight after ended his miserable life. I reloaded, as calmly as though I were in a firing range with a brand new toy. I caught my reflection in the window of a deserted prefab house, and wiped the splatter of blood from my cheek before giving myself a dark, knowing smirk that said I was in charge here. The last one in their squad was still running, but I could catch him with ease. And if there were any others left, he'd lead me straight to them.

I stuck to the shadows as I followed his trail, and it wasn't long before I found him, leaning against a wall wheezing heavily. He was barking something breathlessly into his commlink, but froze mid-sentence as I stepped into his line of sight, my gun raised and a finger to my lips.

"I…uh…I…" he stuttered uselessly, and then I saw his hand twitching by his side, about to reach for his gun, and I thought it would be cruel of me to let him think he had a chance. I fired, he flattened against the wall, and slid down into a crumpled heap on the ground. Suicidal idiot.

I picked up his commlink, heard them asking what the hell had happened, and I lowered my voice to a purr, "This is Commander Shepard," I said, "and I'm coming for every single one of you. So get the fuck off this colony, and stay gone."

There was a muffled 'oh shit' before the line went dead, and I felt very, very smug.

I scanned the surrounding area on my omnitool but found nothing, and quick listen to the Alliance channel told me that the tide had definitely turned, and we had all but taken back the colony. It had gone perfectly. Time, I thought, to go home.

No sooner had I turned on my heel to leave when a piercing scream rang through the air. A child's scream. I froze, listened again, and when I heard another shout I broke into a run, tearing through the thin, interlocking alleyways to get to the source of the sound. I found myself at the edge of the district, by a high, metal wall with vents dotted along the top, and on a ladder in the distance I saw movement. As I ran closer I saw a tiny figure scurrying up the ladder into a maintenance shaft above, with three fully armoured Cerberus agents just behind. Pausing to aim, I took out the one on top – not a perfect shot, but he was hurt enough to fall – and scowled as the other two flattened themselves against the ladder to miss his tumbling body. With one hand firmly on a rung, the lowest one got out his gun and fired pot-shots at me as I rushed towards him. None had a chance in hell of hitting. I dived to one side as he hurled a grenade that spluttered uselessly behind some crates, and fired a shot that caught him right in the neck. He fell to the ground, his arms flailing manically at his helmet as blood gushed from the wound, and I finished him with an executioner's precision.

I looked up to the top of the ladder and saw the last of them arc back with a grunt as their quarry kicked him in the face. He reached up and grabbed a leg, shouting something that was muffled by his helmet, and I lifted my gun and shot him right in the back. He fell to the ground, the breath knocked out of his body, and I shot him again, just to empty my clip.

I heard something clanging around the maintenance shaft above, and realised that whoever they were chasing probably didn't have the slightest intention of coming down. With a quick glance around I knew there were no Cerberus agents nearby aside from the ones I stepped over now as I put away my gun and got onto the ladder.

"I'm coming up, okay?" I called when I was halfway up because I didn't want a boot in my face, "I'm with the Alliance, I'm not gonna hurt you."

There was no answer, but I wouldn't have said a damn thing either. I hoped the vent had been closed off so they couldn't get too far, because I wasn't in the mood for scrambling through a crawlspace. I reached the top and peered into the slim metal tunnel, where I saw a little girl staring back at me with huge, saucer-like eyes, legs clutched to her chest as she huddled against the back wall of the vent.

Suddenly it was a month and a half ago and I was tearing through Vancouver to get to the Normandy, and I'd paused for just a few seconds to see that kid who'd looked me right in the face and said that there was nothing I could do to save him, or anyone else. That goddamn kid who haunted me in my dreams and who I saw dying over and over again along with so many others who had meant so much more, but for some reason his was the face that I saw every night along with the screaming sirens of Reaper horns and—

No. This was different. The girl staring at me now had dirt on her face, a few scratches too, she was shivering with fear and this time I wasn't leaving anyone behind. I gripped the rungs tighter as pure hate welled up inside me for the men I'd just killed, the ones that would have snatched her and done who the hell knows what with her body. I'd kill them a thousand times over just to keep her safe. No kid deserved to be afraid in their own home. I could save her.

"You can come out now," I said gently, not really sure how to talk to anyone who wasn't also a soldier, and even less sure of how to talk to children, "they're all gone."

"That's what they said before," she whimpered, her voice hoarse from screaming, "then they chased me here." Her skinny fingers were digging into her leg strangely, turning her brown skin pale.

"Did they hurt you?" She shook her head, still not moving. I glanced back to scan the area for hostiles again, but there were none. In the distance I could see their shuttles fleeing. We had time. I tried a different tactic.

"What's your name?" She stared at me suspiciously, her round lips pursed and staying firmly shut. "My name's Jena," I offered, "Commander Jena Shepard, I'm with the Normandy. What's yours?"

"You're Commander Shepard?" She asked doubtfully, her little fingers moving to pick at the rip by the knee of her pants where a cut would need cleaning later.

"Yeah, I am." I pulled out my dogtags and dangled them in front of her, not even sure if she could read, "See?" She squinted and shifted forward, still looking like she'd bolt at any moment, even though she had nowhere to go.

"The Alliance are here?" Her eyes scanned the area just behind me, still wide and anxious. Her arms were shaking as she braced herself against the vent.

"Yeah, we are. We're here to help." I saw her sag a little, the look of someone who was very, very tired of running, and something inside me twisted with an all-consuming need to protect her, to somehow make it so she'd never been exposed to any of this.

"What's your name?" I asked again, this time even softer.

"Jess," she said simply, still looking worried, "Have you seen my dad?"

"I'm not sure," I shrugged, not understanding how she expected me to know who the hell he was, "but some friends of mine from the Alliance are making sure everyone's safe. If they found your dad he'll be with them. Should we try to find him?" I tried to make out like we were going on some kind of adventure, but she clearly wasn't falling for it.

Her thin eyebrows moved together in concern. "Are Cerberus all gone?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "I chased them off. They're all gone."

She fixed me with a long, intense stare for a while, as though letting me know that if I were lying there'd be hell to pay. And then, finally, she started crawling through the vent towards me, her hands filthy and slipping against the metal floor.

I glanced down, just to make sure the way was clear, and at once my eyes focused sharply on the three bodies piled on the floor, fresh blood splattered over the grey earth, still pumping pathetically out of the one I'd shot in the neck. As soon as I'd seen her, I'd forgotten all about the men I'd killed.

"How old are you, Jess?" I asked suddenly.

"I'm six next week," she said with a note of pride, shifting forward as she reached the entrance.

"Nearly six, huh?" I replied, trying to sound impressed for some reason but ending up just sounding patronising, "Maybe you can help me out, then."

"How?" She asked as I picked her up with one arm and she wrapped her skinny legs around my armoured waist.

"I need you to close your eyes," I looked down at her, trying to impress upon her five-year-old mind that this was something important, "Close your eyes and don't open them until I say so. Can you do that?"

She screwed up her dirt-smeared face in disbelief, "That doesn't sound like it would help."

My mouth fell open, and I looked straight into her bright, intelligent eyes as she dared me to lie to her after everything that had happened today.

"Then just do it for me," I said instead, "Close your eyes and count to a hundred. Please?"

She obediently screwed her eyes shut and pressed her head into my shoulder as I climbed down the ladder. Her wispy afro hair smelled like smoke and engine grease and something soft and floral that had no place in this wasteland. When I reached the ground, I got out my gun and gripped it tight as I wrapped both my arms around her, holding her tiny body to me like she was the only reason we'd come to this planet. I stepped over the dead bodies of Cerberus and civilians alike, and I hated this war and all it had done, all it had made other people do. The Reapers could almost be forgiven, mindless as they were, but Cerberus had no excuse. In a war, sacrifices had to be made, but nothing – not even victory – was worth this total disregard for innocent lives. When I sent the Reapers back to hell, I wanted to do it with my humanity intact. I wouldn't forget who I was. I wouldn't forget what was important. Small victories – like being able to personally save this one young life – would be what won us the war.

Cerberus colours flashed to my left, and I whirled around to shoot a lone trooper just as he ran for cover. Fuck you, I thought bitterly. Jess didn't even stir, though I felt her arms tense around me as the shot echoed in the air and she counted faithfully under her breath.

I saw the Normandy like a shining beacon only a minute away, parked on top of a platform and surrounded by soldiers who had secured the area for the evacuation. Shuttles were landing constantly, dropping off harrowed civilians and leaving again to pick up even more. A report flashed up on my omnitool alerting all personnel on the ground that they were officially calling the colony secure, as there was no longer a Cerberus presence.

"Hey, look," I said quietly, placing my gun back in its holster. Jess roused and raised her head, but her eyes were still firmly shut.

"I haven't got to a hundred yet," she said with a pout, and I found myself smiling, so pleased that I was at the right place at the right time, and that I'd saved her.

"It's okay, you can stop now," I held her with both arms as I walked through the barricade, "We're here." I felt the soldiers' eyes follow me and my unusual cargo. My reputation definitely preceded me these days, and seeing how most people thought I was a heartless, ruthless, Reaper-killing machine, right now I was only too happy to prove them wrong.

Jess looked up. She saw the Normandy and at once started glancing around to call for her dad in a surprisingly strong voice, still clinging tightly to my neck. A ragged shout made her squirm around in my arms, and I turned to see a man running towards me with tears bright in his eyes, face collapsing with relief.

"Jessica, Jessica, oh my god, oh—" his voice trailed off she launched herself into his arms and he gathered her up, burying his face in her hair, his shoulders shaking, "I thought they took you, I thought…I…" he looked up, his wide, frantic eyes locking with mine, and it was like he was seeing me for the very first time. "Thank you," he whispered, his hands tight around his daughter, "thank you so much. Thank you."

"Just make sure she's okay," I heard myself say in a very official-sounding voice. Feeling out of place at this family reunion, I made my way back to the Normandy and it was only then that I saw the camera hovering by the hangar bay entrance with a beaming Diana Allers standing beside.

"You really do get me the best footage, Commander," she said, sounding almost a little choked up, "I mean it. In one stroke you've got Cerberus as monsters, you as the hero, and – seeing as that guy said he thought his kid was dead a few seconds ago – a real life miracle."

I shrugged, not really sure how to respond now that the mission was over, the adrenaline had receded, and I'd passed on my trophy to her father. "It's what I do," I said simply.

She cleared her throat, face glossing over with that perky broadcaster smile, "got anything to say about today?"

Her camera swung down to point straight at me, and my mind worked quickly to think of a suitable soundbite. In my Commander voice I rattled off something about how Cerberus could never be trusted no matter what they said, how they kidnapped people for sick experiments and killed those that resisted. I talked about how it was lucky we were close enough to make a difference, but that we wouldn't always be able to help, so it was up to everyone to be vigilant.

You can't save them all.

"We came here to liberate this colony from Cerberus," I said, wrapping things up, "and that's exactly what we've done. No one gets left behind," I lied; faces of those we'd lost flashing in front of my eyes, "Not while I'm in charge."

She sighed wistfully as the camera's lights faded away, and glanced up at me with true admiration in her eyes.

"Thanks, Commander. Always a pleasure."

I took a while to take a circuit of the temporary camp and make sure everything else was indeed under control before I headed back onto the Normandy, groundside for the first time in a long time. It was odd, being on the ship without the constant background noise of the engine humming in the back of my head. Even stranger was taking off my armour while sunrays streamed through the skylight above my room. Kaidan wasn't back yet. I'd been told that he and the others were taking a longer route back to clear out a few stragglers, but that all other areas were secure, and overall the mission had been a phenomenal success. That was what I liked to hear. This run-down little shantytown had enough troubles without Cerberus making their lives even worse. It was tough enough growing up a poor human in a poor colony. I hoped they'd all remember this day and know what it was like to have some hope at last.

I threw on a plain grey tank top and black pants instead of fatigues, rewarding myself by wearing actual clothes for once. Speaking of which...

I found the package that had been waiting for me on the Citadel, a gift from the Ns for all I'd done, and a smile crossed my face as I pulled out a crisp leather jacket – real leather too – with the distinctive N7 logo emblazoned on the chest. The collar was straight and high, and when I looked closer at the inside, I saw that images of the most impressive medals and awards I'd collected had been embroidered into the lining on the inside of the neck. The Star of Terra was there, and they'd represented the traditional flake of meteorite with opalescent silver thread. That was a nice little touch, something to say this was just for me. Since yesterday, I'd decided that I really did like presents.

There was a note with it that simply said 'Make us Proud,' and I smiled. Damn right I would.

When I pulled it on and admired the fit, I spied the box Kaidan had given me resting on the bedside table. It was tempting, but my dog tags were still slung around my neck, and they were a far more fitting decoration, no matter how triumphant I felt. Just because we'd won the battle didn't mean we'd won the war.

I checked the time on my omnitool, and found a message from Kaidan. It said they'd be back soon, that they were just wrapping up, and I decided I wanted to be there to meet them. I wanted to be the first to tell them that we'd officially won the day. I walked over to the doors feeling light as air, but when I opened them I saw Samantha standing by the elevator, a worried look drawing her face together, and I stopped in my tracks, feet rooted to the floor.

Something happened to Kaidan, my mind whispered at once, something bad. She looks scared to tell you.

He's probably dead.

"Traynor?" I prompted, swallowing the bitter paranoia that had climbed up my throat.

"Commander," she greeted, trying to be warm but there was still a concerned line in her brow, "Um. Sorry. I know you just got back, but..." say it "...one of the civilians wants to talk to you."

I pursed my lips in sudden confusion, not sure why the hell she'd even brought this to me. And, of course, I felt like an idiot for jumping to the worst possible conclusion, for assuming that something had to go wrong after the last few days of perfection, because that was how my life had always been.

"Just tell them I'm too busy," I shrugged, the leather creasing pleasantly, "I can't meet with everyone who wants an audience."

"I know," she said quickly, "and normally that's what I'd do, but this one is...um...well she came to the base camp on one of the shuttles. She was in one of the first districts we helped evacuate, and...um..."

"Traynor," I deadpanned, willing her to hurry it up so I could leave.

"She says she's your mother," she blurted. I felt my face freeze in place, my legs filled with lead, and all it was all I could do to remember how to breathe. "That's...that's why I came to you."

"That's bullshit," I said with a shrug as soon as I remembered myself, pushing down sudden nausea, "my mother's dead. She died when I was a kid. It's just some woman who wants a free ride. Tell her she's a sick bitch for trying to get to me that way."

"Well…" Traynor wet her lips, her hands wringing together as though she were extremely uncomfortable. Anxiety began to swirl tempestuously in my stomach, and I wished I'd eaten something today. "You see, I'm not so sure she is. Dead, I mean. I know there's no living family listed on your record, but…she kept insisting, and she wouldn't leave, so I had them take her to a room in the base camp, and got EDI to do a quick scan of her DNA to get an identity, and…it seems to be a match. A probable match, at least. To you. I mean it could be a fluke or a mistake, and there are ways to fool results, but…I thought I'd better tell you, just in case. I haven't told anyone else. No one else knows."

I took a deep, calming breath and forced my whole stance to be the picture of calm and indifference. "So where is she? The main base?"

"Yes," Samantha nodded quickly, her voice finally slowing down, "I put her in an interrogation room as it's probably the most private area available. They're waiting for word from one of us – they don't know what it's about. The woman is calling herself Isobel Harper, and the identity we got from the scan matches the name, though there's not much information. Does the name mean anything to you?"

"No," I lied, driving my hands into the pockets of my jacket to stop them from shaking, "it doesn't."

It had been so long since I'd heard that name. She must have gone back to using it, the surname she'd passed on to me, the one I used to write in school books on the days when I actually managed to turn up, in dirty hair and dirty clothes, making excuses and learning too early how to lie to cover up my mother's many, many fuckups. The sound of the name on Traynor's lips – innocent, ignorant – made long-forgotten memories suddenly real and whole, thudding into my mind like bullets from a gatling gun.

Loyalty is a strange thing when you're a child. You don't know any better. Desperate for love, you cling on to what you have, tell yourself it's worth something because you're too young to deal with the simple, crushing reality that what you have is utterly toxic. And after, you'd look back at what you had and wondered why the hell you didn't leave as soon as you could walk, why you thought anyone was worth your love or your tears when all you got in return was pain.

Or maybe that was just me.

"If you want," Traynor started carefully, "I can send her away. It's no trouble. I just…thought you should know."

I straightened my back, half of me wanting to never, ever see her again, to pretend she'd never existed, and the other half insisting that I was thirty two years old and those days were behind me and now I'd made something of myself and the least I could do was show her what I'd done, throw it in her face and demand that she recognise the strength and skill I'd grown into.

A hidden part of me, deep down, whispered that she was my mother. And that she must have loved me. Once upon a time.

I didn't even know if it was really her. Maybe she was dead and this was just an imposter.

"It's fine," I shrugged, "I'll go see her, find out why the hell she's impersonating a dead woman. Just don't tell anyone, I don't want them thinking…you know." Traynor nodded quickly, and it occurred to me that she was far, far smarter than her shy manner let on, and that she probably hadn't bought a single word of my bullshit. Gritting my teeth in private humiliation, I followed her off the ship and to the base a short walk away. Soldiers saluted me as I passed by, and I nodded at each one of them in acknowledgement, the embroidery of my medals brushing reassuringly against my neck. That kind of recognition steeled me for what was to come, and when I entered the building I did it as an Alliance Commander and an N7, not the frightened, desperate little girl I had once been. If nothing could hurt me out on the battlefield, there sure as hell wasn't a damn thing that could hurt me in here.

And then, outside the door to the interrogation room, I paused with my hand hovering over the handle. I'd intended to push how I felt to one side and walk in like I owned the place, treat this as I would any other meeting with someone who had pissed me off, and I'd send her packing in a way that made it perfectly clear that I'd gotten over everything she'd done. But there was a display to one side, a display which would show the feed from the camera in the corner of the room, and…I don't know why I didn't just walk in. Maybe I was looking for an excuse to stop in my tracks, to delay the meeting. All I knew was that before I could stop myself I was taking my hand from the door and pressing the button at the bottom of the display. The image crackled into life.

A torrent of emotions closed around my insides like a vice as I saw a woman I recognised instantly as my actual, living mother staring up at me through the lens, not even knowing I was there. She was still beautiful, still lovely with her mane of wavy, dark hair and chiselled features. But to me, her face was the sound of screaming, of glass breaking, neighbours pounding on the walls for quiet, of doors slamming and that same face sobbing late into the night or raving incomprehensibly with her eyes clouded over. Looking at her now, and even back then, you'd never believe she was capable of such callousness, such insanity.

My throat felt tight, burning with something I didn't understand how to stop.

I remembered how I'd put a blanket around her when she didn't make it to bed, sometimes. I thought it would make her love me as much as I'd loved her.

I'd thought if I just loved her enough then things could go back to how they were when I was small.

Back then there had been a man, a man who I knew wasn't my father because his skin was a deep, dark brown, almost purple, and he had been…kind to me. He'd play with me, treat me like his own, but it hadn't lasted. My mother had started her worthless fucking life as an addict, and you could never really cure an addict. You couldn't trust them, either. Not really. Not in the city I was born where a relapse lurked around every corner, and her mouth was always full of excuses. I remembered how he'd shout that he didn't believe her, how she'd scream back at him and hurl things across the room in a blind fury. Eventually, he'd stopped trying to make things work, he'd stopped coming back and things took a dark, ugly turn.

My hands were shaking, trembling by my sides and I couldn't stop them. I stared straight at the image in front of me as she turned from the camera and paced to the other side of the small room.

Once, with her pupils eclipsing the forgotten colour of her eyes, she'd told me it was my fault he'd left, that he'd hated me and that she hated me too for ruining things. She told me that she wished she'd never kept me. That I'd ruined her life. And I'd believed her. Maybe I still did. But back then I had a fierce devotion to her, as children do. I kept holding tight to the fiction that if I only kept trying hard enough, things would get better and she would love me back. But it never changed. It only got worse.

I looked at her pixelated face, at her dark, hollow eyes, and I knew at once that this was something I just couldn't deal with. Not now. Maybe not ever. I'd gotten so used to lying to everyone, to locking these things away for good, and now they were back in full force, crashing over me like a tidal wave, and I couldn't escape from those pictures in my head, but I could sure as hell escape from her. I felt myself taking a step back, I felt myself turning from the screen, and all my medals and bravery and the incredible things I'd done since I'd seen her last were wiped away as I marched down the corridor, just needing an escape.

oOoOoOo

Kaidan

Shepard must have been busy, I decided. Or maybe she still wasn't back yet, even though the woman on the other end of the radio at the base camp said we were the last squad to return. That would explain why she hadn't answered either of the short messages I'd sent to her omnitool, and why I couldn't see her even as the shuttle landed outside the Normandy and I scanned the displaced civilians for any sign of her distinctive armour.

Dismissing the squad that James and I had led through the thick of the fighting, I boarded the ship and went through the usual routine of debriefing, changing back into fatigues, and putting my weapons and armour away. I took my time, but there was still no sign of her. It was odd, I thought. The mission had been a fantastic success with minimal casualties, and I'd expected her to be at least visible, if not actively parading around the place. Bringing up my omnitool, I checked to see if she'd sent a reply I'd somehow missed, but there was nothing.

In the War Room I found Samantha Traynor furiously typing at a console, her head down as though she were trying to actively avoid eye contact. I asked her offhandedly if she knew where the Commander was, and she replied with a strained voice that she didn't. Even if it hadn't been Traynor's job to know where Shepard was at all hours, I'd have known she was lying. But why?

"Did she come back on the Normandy?" I tried again.

"She came back just under an hour ago, but she got called away. Some important business." She gave me a helpless little shrug, as if to say I really shouldn't be worried and that she'd very much like this conversation to be over. If I were still Shepard's Lieutenant, that'd be one thing, but I outranked her now, and I'd be damned if I'd let myself be stonewalled.

"What kind of business?" I persisted.

"Uh…Spectre business?" It wasn't an answer, it was her asking me to please believe it. Traynor was a damn good analyst, and smart as hell, but there was a reason she wasn't an agent. Deception didn't come to her easily, and the fact that she felt the need to lie made me concerned.

"I'm a Spectre too, Traynor," I said firmly, "And I don't like being lied to."

"I..." her face fell, her hands wringing together nervously, "oh dear, it's just...I shouldn't tell you. It's personal business."

"Personal," I echoed in disbelief. We were in a colony in the ass-end of the galaxy, and everyone that Shepard knew was either dead, on board, or in the military. What kind of personal business could she possibly have?

"Yes," she nodded decisively, as though she thought she were on to a winner with that one, "personal."

"Traynor, she's not wearing her commlink or picking up her messages," I said quietly even though we were the only ones in the room, "If something's happened you need to tell me."

Her brows drew together with some kind of internal dilemma, "I...I'm sorry," she said, looking up at me as though she were doing something horrible and hated it, "I said I wouldn't. She…she asked that I-"

"Specialist Traynor," EDI said suddenly, her voice coming straight from Traynor's omnitool, "Shepard's biolink indicates highly elevated stress levels. She is in no immediate danger, but Major Alenko may be able to help matters. I would advise he be informed of the situation, despite the Commander's wishes."

Traynor looked down at her omnitool in confusion, her face screwing up in conflict before she glanced up at me.

"If she asks," Traynor said resolutely, "I didn't say a word, okay?"

I nodded, "Of course."

"A civilian came to the ship during the mission and demanded to see the Commander. When I tried to get her to leave, she said she was...um...she said she was Shepard's mother. A DNA scan indicated she could be right." I went cold. Whatever I'd been expecting, that sure as hell wasn't it. "The Commander went to see her at the base and...well it was about half an hour ago. I haven't heard from her since. I…don't really know what to do."

Understandably, Jena had always been tight-lipped about her childhood. All I knew about her mother and their relationship was that she had been a violent addict, abusive and neglectful, and that Jena had run away before she was even ten years old. I still could barely believe it had actually happened. Not because I didn't think it was true, but because it was…it was like a horror story. Something that happened to other people, not the woman I knew and loved, the strongest, fiercest, most indomitable person I'd ever met. She never told people, she said, because not only did she not like to remember it, but because she hated the idea that she was a victim, even if every scrap of information she'd given me suggested that word would fit.

Her childhood, the things she'd been through…they were unimaginable. They'd forged her into the woman she was today – the one that was saving the galaxy – but part of me thought that nothing was worth the life she had lived. And now the woman that had put her through hell was back, but for what? Why? And why now? It didn't make any sense.

I had to find her.

"Okay," I said calmly, "I'll go. Don't tell anyone else – whatever it is, I can handle it. Just keep things going until we get back."

"Yes, Major," she nodded, looking relieved now that it was out of her hands, "Thank you."

I barely stopped to think as I made my way to the base, walking quickly and single-mindedly as though I had to be somewhere yesterday. EDI had given me a location marker on Shepard using her biolink, and I followed it down a slim corridor with interrogation and meeting rooms along one side. That was when I saw that one screen was on, and as soon as I glanced at it, I saw her. Not Jena, but something close. It was the strangest thing. Her face was fuzzy, but now that I knew their relationship, the resemblance was obvious. She had the same dark hair, straight brows and proud, defiant features, but the older woman had sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, and none of Jena's fire. So it was true.

Looking at her, I felt conflicted – on the one hand she was capable of things that made me feel sick, but on the other, she'd brought the woman I loved into this dark and lonely world. I glanced down at the location marker and saw that Jena hadn't gone far. Tearing my eyes away from the screen, I found the room after a short walk. She'd locked it, but not well, and it took me thirty seconds to override the encryption. It was an office of some sort, and I saw her at once by a slim window, her hands braced on the sill as she leaned out, breathing heavily, every muscle in her body tense and aggravated.

"Jena," I called, and she whirled around in surprise, as though she hadn't even heard me come in, her eyes wide and nervous, tinged with trauma. Her lips parted as though to speak, but she shut them just as fast, and stared at me anxiously, waiting for me to explain myself. I watched her hands clenching into fists, over and over. "EDI told me about…" the words 'your mother' died in my mouth. It didn't seem right, knowing what that woman had done. "…you know."

"I can't see her," she said quickly, her voice hoarse, "I can't—I can't look that woman in the face. I know it's been over twenty years, but…the things she…I can't look at her again. I just…I…"

I saw the panic rise up in her face and with a few strides I crossed the room and gathered her unresisting body into my arms. Her fingers dug into my back and I felt her breath hot and fast on my neck as she buried her head against my shoulder.

"It's okay," I murmured, not entirely sure it was true, "It'll be okay." I wove a hand into the hair at the base of her skull, skimming over the stubble that was now growing out until I found the two pressure points behind her ears and massaged them gently. I felt the tension ease from her arms, though her fingers were still claws.

"It's not okay," she whispered back, "It's…I don't know what it is. I should tell her to go to hell, but I can't even face her. But if I don't, then…then I'll just know that she's alive and out there somewhere and knows about me, and…oh god, I just—"

"Do you know why she's here? Did she say anything about why she's here now?"

Jena shook her head, arms still tight around me, "I don't know," she mumbled, "Maybe she lives here, maybe she recognised me after all these years, I don't fucking know. I don't know what she wants, and I'm—" she broke off and stepped back from me, her hands coming up and raking through her hair, "I mean…I know it won't be anything good. It won't be because she's sorry, nothing like that. She was never kind to me for the sake of being kind – it was always just because she felt guilty or she was trying to get me to do something."

I stared at her face, the pain in those bright eyes, and I had no idea what I could do or say to make this better. Sometimes, I thought, the best thing you could do was just shut up and listen.

"And, y'know," she continued after a while, "I've been trying to convince myself that maybe she's sorry, maybe she wants a reconciliation, but as soon as I think of that, all I remember is how when other kids were in school I was just trying to keep her alive and she didn't even care. She's not here because she ever cared about me, because she never did. Not really. Not how you're supposed to care about your own child. She was…there was something seriously fucking wrong with her. But back then I just…didn't know that." She looked down at her hands, a thumb rubbing obsessively over an old scar on her palm, as though she could wipe clean history itself. I didn't want to pull them apart, so instead I settled for covering her hands with mine, a calming gesture that stopped the scratching but not the slight tremor I felt through her body.

"What made you finally leave?" I asked hesitantly, willing her to look me in the eyes, "What happened?" Even as I spoke, I realised I didn't want to know the answer. I didn't want to know what could have been worse than what the child inside the woman in front of me had already dealt with in her young life. I didn't want to have that image kicking around my head, or to have her make it all real by saying it out loud. The things she said she'd never told anyone else.

"I…I didn't leave," she said quietly, shame woven through her voice that broke my heart to hear, "I ran away before, but I always came back. I thought that even if she hated me, she still needed me, you know? And then, I…I don't remember what happened. Not completely. She was driving me to school, don't know why, and she…she must have been coming down or something, but suddenly her mood just switched and she started screaming at me. She was saying all this horrible shit, and I…I was trying, I remember, I was trying to get her to stop, to slow down, but she was so goddamn paranoid that she…fuck, I don't know what she thought." Her mouth shut tightly, lips a thin, pale line as though the next words were straining behind her teeth but she didn't want to let them out to dirty the air.

"Jena," I said softly, stroking my thumb over the pulse jumping at her wrist, "what did she do?"

"She pushed me out," she said simply, raising her eyes to mine at last and staring at me as though she were about to ask how the hell I could explain that away. "She just shoved me, and she swerved, and the locks on the door were broken so I just…fell, and I rolled, and when I got back up she was still driving away. And…I never saw her again. I was eight years old, Kaidan. Eight. I mean…can you even imagine how fucked up you have to be to do that to a kid? Hell, she could have killed me, and she wouldn't have cared. She probably saw it happen, thought 'one less thing to worry about', and forgot all about it."

Through her eyes, I saw it happen, and it hurt. She looked at me now, pale, drained, utterly defeated, and when she spoke again, there was a kind of resignation in her voice. Like she shouldn't have expected anything less.

"So…no," she said simply, "I didn't leave. She threw me away first."

"I…" I tried, but I couldn't speak. My hands felt stiff with rage. I'd grown up on Earth too. When she was eight, I'd been ten, and my life had been pretty damn great. I hadn't known things like that could happen, not to someone even younger than me, and not to someone I'd grow up to love. In the times before, when she'd alluded to her past, it was always with a shrug, brushing it off, saying flatly that people like her were forged in fire and brimstone, not comfort. But I hadn't known. I hadn't known it would be so…ugly. "That's just…horrible."

"I told you, didn't I?" she snapped, snatching her hands back and crossing her arms tight across her chest, suddenly defensive, "I told you she was a total fucking mess. So I…I guess I just decided she was dead. It was easier. But now…" she lifted her arms in a helpless shrug, her brow still drawn together in an internal struggle.

"Now she's back," I said slowly, "and you don't know if you should confront her or just keep believing she's dead."

She nodded, teeth grating over her bottom lip in agitation, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I know I don't want to see her, I don't want her to even know I'm alive, but she does and she's here and…I don't know if I can just…ignore that."

"What are you afraid of?" I saw something in her recoil at that idea, and I continued quickly, "Jena, you were a kid. It's okay to have been afraid of her, it's okay to still be afraid of her, even now. That kind of stuff sticks with you – it doesn't have to be logical, it doesn't have to make sense."

"I…" she sighed, a painful sound, "I don't know what I'm afraid of. Everything, I guess. Everything she made me feel. I'm afraid she'll prove me right. I'm afraid of…of feeling like that again. I don't…I don't know." She looked up at me, her face a mask of torment and indecision, "What should I do?"

Normally I would have told her it was her own decision, that no one could make it for her, but this was…different, somehow. And now, looking at her and remembering who she was and what she had already overcome, what she had yet to overcome, I knew what she had to do.

"I think…you have to see her. At least once. You don't have to have some heartfelt reunion, you don't even need to be nice to her. You're the most powerful woman in the galaxy, now – she can't ignore that and she sure as hell can't take that away from you. I think you need to see her, just so you can look her in the eye and say that no matter what she did to you, no matter what anyone did, you've survived, you've succeeded, and you're here now, stronger than ever. I think…I think that's what you should do."

Her head bobbed up and down slowly, a parody of a nod, as though she wanted to agree but something inside her wouldn't let it happen.

"I just…I don't know what it is, I just keep thinking that it must have been my fault, somehow, something I did, some kind of flaw right at the heart of who I am," I opened my mouth at once to insist that it wasn't, but she held up a hand to silence me, "And I know that's total bullshit, I know I was just a kid, but that doesn't change how it feels. I never…I mean…I never had time to get over it. I just locked it up in my head, because I didn't want to admit that any of it happened. But it did. And seeing her here, it's just a reminder that I came from that. From trash. However hard I fight, however far I run, I can't escape that."

"But it…" I had no idea what to say. "You're…you're so much more than that, Jena. You're more than what happened to you, and you've made yourself who you are today. Despite everything, you're still here, still alive. And…hell, today we just saved an entire colony from getting wiped out, and it was because of you. You can't forget that. Whatever happened to you before, you can't forget that who you are now, twenty years later, is someone who is strong, powerful and confident as hell. You don't let anyone stand in your way or tell you what to do. And…there's something else too. You're not just those things, you're also kind. The world never showed you any kindness, but you still have some to give. You have so much compassion inside you, and you might try to hide it, but I know you. And you, Jena, you can do this."

I brought my hands up to cup her face, forced her to look at me even though I could see her eyes brimming with pain, wanting to reject everything I said and crawl inside herself again. I wouldn't let it happen.

"You can decide what happens here," I said slowly, making sure she was taking it all in, "You're in charge. Now what do you want?"

She closed her eyes, her face almost peaceful. "I…want to box up that room and fire it directly into the nearest star so I don't have to look at or think about her ever again," she said simply, sadly, and when she opened her eyes I knew that it was the cold, hard truth, "but failing that, I just…I don't want her in my life. That's all I know. I don't want to fix things, I don't even want to try. She doesn't deserve it. And I…" she let out a quivering breath, lips hanging open as though she had finally figured something out, "…I deserve better."

"Of course you do," I sunk a hand into her hair, the other curling around her neck as I pressed a kiss to her temple, "You don't have to have her in your life, Jena, you never have to see her after today."

"But you still think I should talk to her," she murmured, but there was steel creeping back into her tone.

"I do. Even if all you want is to walk in that room and tell her to go to hell, I still think you have to see her. You need to see her just to know that there isn't a damn thing she can do or say to hurt you anymore."

"You're…right," she let out a bitter laugh as she stepped back and pulled a hand through her hair, "I know you're right. You're always fucking right."

She sighed, looking up at me with every one of her masks stripped away. For that moment she wasn't the neglected, miserable child she'd been, or the steel-eyed Commander she'd become. She was Jena, the beautiful, stubborn, kind-hearted, frustrating, spectacular woman I'd fallen in love with.

And in a heartbeat she took a step forward, grabbed my head with both hands, leaned up and kissed me hard.

"Thank you," she whispered against my lips, "I mean it."

"Any time," I replied, breathing her in and, once again, feeling amazed that the patchwork of pain that had been her life had come together in such a way as to put her in my arms at this very moment.

I unlocked the door, and watched as she took a deep breath that rippled up through her entire body and made her seem taller, stronger, filling the room with an aura that came from the one and only Commander Shepard. In that hard voice of hers I knew so well, she told me to wait for her back at the Normandy before striding purposefully towards the interrogation rooms.

oOoOoOo

Shepard

I felt light-headed as I made my way back to the ship. Like when you're in heavy armour for far too long and you finally take it off and it's like your entire body could just float off the ground if you let it. It was strange. I'd done such a simple thing, but for some reason walking back aboard the Normandy felt like walking out of prison.

I'd seen my mother. I opened the door feeling like the champion I was, and I'd expected to be filled with rage at the very sight of her, I thought I'd want to scream, to accuse her of being pure fucking evil, but instead I'd looked at the grey streaked through her hair, the deep wrinkles, and all I'd felt was pity. Her eyes had been hollow and dark, telling stories of a life hard-lived and a body abused by herself and others. I'd noticed, dimly, that they were just a few shades darker than mine.

We'd spoken, but this time I was in charge. I wasn't her carer any more, I wasn't even her daughter, I was a self-made woman and I had earned the right to make myself heard. She'd tried to reel me in, of course, tried to ignore it all and pretend that she'd done nothing wrong, that she hadn't forced me to leave, but I could still see old track marks on the inside of her elbows as her bony fingers clutched her arms tight, and I could hear the lies in her voice as she said that she'd tried to find me, and her words had landed on me like snowflakes melting on the ground.

I listened to her, and all I could feel was pity. Pity, and disgust that I'd ever let myself feel anything for her. My entire life, I'd thought it was my fault that she was such a goddamn screw-up. I'd thought I must have been the worst child in the world because all the love I had to give wasn't enough, but it had never been my fault. She had always been that way, and I had just made things worse by making it obvious.

She'd kept insisting that nothing was her fault – the fact that she had nowhere to go now, that wasn't her fault, nor was the direction her life had gone in, nor was the hell she'd put me through. Even now, all that twenty years of reflection had done was allow her to convince herself that she was innocent in the whole thing. A victim of circumstance, of a hard, cruel city that had shaped us both. Maybe part of that was true. But I didn't care.

At first I'd snapped. I'd told her to have some goddamn respect for who I was and what I'd done. I'd told her that I remembered exactly what she had done – even if she'd forgotten – and that I'd never, ever forget it. And then I'd looked at her face, and the pity had come rushing back. She may have been worthless, but I wasn't, and I was sure as hell worth more than this.

After I'd explained to her exactly what would happen now, I'd asked her, finally, if she'd ever loved me. I'd seen it flash across her face, the lie rushing forward, and then she'd stopped, she'd squared her shoulders, and she'd looked at me simply, nonchalantly, as though whatever she had to say didn't really matter.

'No', she'd said, apparently tired of keeping up the pretence, 'I never did. I don't know why. I tried at first, but I couldn't. When I saw you, even when you were a baby, I just…felt nothing at all.'

The words should have hurt, I thought, but they didn't. Instead, it was like a veil had been lifted. It had never been my fault, there was never anything wrong with me. I was just like everyone else – she was the one that couldn't love her own daughter enough to just face the facts and give me up, instead of leaving me so damaged that I couldn't even ask for help to find a way out. And now, instead of spending my life running and hiding under layers of hate and spite and trying so hard just to prove that I was better than where I'd come from, I could just…live.

Walking through the doors of the elevator at my floor, I paused for a moment before going in my room. I sighed, feeling the last of the tension in my body flowing out of me, and I let the thoughts hammer into my head one more time.

I'd never done anything to deserve her. I'd been wronged. It had never been my fault. I'd deserved a family that could love me. Just like everyone else.

Unlike everyone else, I had a galaxy to save. But that could wait until morning.

I opened the doors and stepped into my room, taking my time to look around and realising that I was seeing it all in a new light. And then, finally, my eyes rested on Kaidan, who had stood up from the couch and was looking at me in concern, as though he didn't know if I were about to burst into tears or laughter. I didn't know, either. He mounted the stairs as I walked over to him, neither of us saying a word when I stepped into the circle of his arms, held him tight and breathed him in. His knuckles stroked over my back, a gesture that was probably intended to calm me down, but it wasn't necessary. I'd never felt so calm in my life.

"I told her…" I started slowly, resting my head against his shoulder, "…I told Isobel that my mother was dead, and that I never, ever wanted to see or hear from her again. And then I gave her 10,000 credits to get transport off-world or protection or whatever the hell she wanted, and I left. Just like that. And it felt…" I looked up at him, saw the relief hidden so badly just underneath the surface, and an astonished smile broke out on my face, "amazing."

He breathed a sigh that turned into a small, sad smile, a line between his brows. "Good," he said, eyes beaming down at me as he reached up to brush the wisps of hair back from my face, "That's…that's good. I'm glad."

"I'm okay," I said, surprising myself by how honest I could manage to be all of a sudden, "Really, I am. I know it sounds strange, but—"

"It doesn't sound strange," he said at once, "Not at all. There's no right way to feel about something like this. And if you're happy then…hell, it's all I want, anyway."

"It's just…everyone always says that family's supposed to be the most important thing in the world, so I feel like it should've be harder to just cut her out of my life. I mean she's my mom, right? But actually, it was just so easy. No matter what she did, no matter what anyone else did, I survived, and I'm living on my own terms, and I didn't want her to be a part of that. It was so simple. All this time, and it was so damn simple."

"The best things are. I'm – and I know this sounds stupid – but…I'm proud of you, Jena. I am. I don't know everything about you, but I know what it meant for you to walk in there and tell her those things."

I smirked, "It does sound pretty stupid. But…thanks. I don't know what to think about it all yet, but I'm just…glad you're here." I folded myself back against him and let the stresses of the day melt away from me.

I'd always thought I only ever did things on my own terms, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that wasn't true. Not always. I'd left the Reds burning, just as I'd wanted, and I left the Alliance behind when I had to, and Cerberus when it was time. All of those things I'd chosen for myself, and now I was an N7, a Commander, on the Normandy and with Kaidan right now because I'd wanted it, but that wasn't all. I'd never been afraid of conflict or of battle – that had always come as easily as breathing to my skilled and battered body – I'd just been afraid of everything else.

I opened my eyes, looked at the way the hairs curled up on the back of Kaidan's neck, a thing that made me want to sigh with joy for some stupid reason, and I realised I was still scared of him and everything he meant to me. But that fear didn't come from me, or what I wanted. It came from every experience I'd ever had which had hammered the lesson home that to care about someone was to leave yourself wide open to having your heart ripped out in front of your very eyes. It meant disappointment, getting cast-out and left wide-open, helpless, screaming uselessly at the sky and into pillows.

And I'd felt it when Kaidan walked away from me on Horizon, and for the months that followed. All of it had only made me want to build my walls higher and higher, shut everything out, but it hadn't lasted. He'd got through to me, in the end, and he was still here. And somehow I knew, deep in my soul, that he'd never meant to hurt me, and that he'd never do it again. Hell, he didn't have a malicious bone in his body, it was just that I'd been let down too many times before to know what I had when it was standing right in front of me. I'd tried to hurt him on purpose, just because he'd hurt me by accident, because for some reason I'd never been able to tell the difference.

He'd never wanted to use me or deceive me. He'd never wanted to do anything but…care for me. Something welled up inside me, and I found myself wanting to kiss him and fuck him and go for a walk and hold his hand in public and spend the night looking at the stars all at once and never stop.

I parted my lips, "I—"

I love you, I thought, and I felt myself freeze, I think I've always loved you. Fuck, Kaidan, I'm so in love with you it actually hurts to think about it. All I want to do is lie next to you forever, telling you how much I love you over and over again until we're both sick of the words, but apparently I can't even get them out once because…

I didn't know why I couldn't just say it.

Maybe there was a difference between believing your whole world had been cleansed of every demon of your past, and having that actually come true.

I love you, I thought again, my throat paralysed, And I'm so, so scared of losing you.

"You…what?" Kaidan nuzzled his nose into the hair at my temple.

"I'm so glad you're here," I said at last, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, arms warm and strong around my body, "I promise."

Chapter 29: Fear – Shepard's optimism is shattered when a mission on Asari soil leaves her feeling helpless.