Quick note: I'm aware that Jacob is a biotic in-game. However, I have no desire to write him more than necessary. So he's just an ordinary soldier. It's an AU. And I reserve the right to change, well, everything. :p

Jane couldn't sleep. Every time the ship shifted, adrenaline coursed through her. It got to the point that lying still became painful. Her neck ached, back twinging to the beat of her heart. She moved around and around and around to no avail – eventually hopping out of the mattress and into the cool atmosphere. This was pointless. Why was she even trying?

"Hello."

Instantly, her barrier came up. Eyes searching for the intruder.

"My intent was not to startle. I'm EDI. The ship's artificial intelligence."

"A… geth?"

"No." One second pause. "Think of me as the Normandy."

"So… you're the ship?"

"In a sense."

"Guess Wrex warned me."

"Warned you? About me?"

"No. He just said that the Normandy was a traveling freak show." And that I'd fit right in. She added silently.

A round, blue light flickered in the corner. "That's a good one."

"A what?"

"A good joke."

"It was a statement of fact."

"I found it quite amusing." 1.2 second pause. "I have heard that there is… discontent between you and the Commander." 0.5 second pause. "You realize that you share 52.336% of your DNA?"

"DN what?"

"DNA. Deoxyribonucleic acid is a polymer composed of two polynucleotide chains-"

"Fuck off. You're making up words."

"Have I offended?"

"I get that I don't know things most people do. But you don't have to mock me about it."

"My intent was to inform. Your reaction is atypical for the human species."

"Yeah, well, I'm not very human."

The Blue Light Bulb pestered her one last time about the Commander before learning that the topic was a no-go. Then she switched to a far more pleasant function – telling stories. Jane's favorite was about a man who left a dying world in search of a new home for his species. He visited planet after planet before stumbling on one with everything his kind needed – water, oxygen, and carbon based life. But he didn't take gravity, or its affect on time, into account. Every hour on that planet was equivalent to a day on his own. He spent years building infrastructure, exploring the surface, and readying the planet for occupation. Yet, by the time he returned, it had been centuries. And he was the last of his kind.

She didn't understand the science behind the tale, but her mind came alive every time EDI told it.

There were so many books she wanted to read on Omega. But very few were compatible with a Rishini-programmed translator. And whenever she used Gok, she wound up confused and unsure how the characters got from A to B or what was even happening. It was like trying to jam together the pieces of a puzzle, when they simply didn't connect.

So she really appreciated the Blue Light spending the night telling her story after story – until the artificial lights poked through the mattress's fabric and Urz needed attention. She dressed, and listened by the door, ensuring the path between her room and the elevator was clear, then pelted across the expanse. Garrus gave her a tour of the cargo bay the previous night. It was equipped with a patch of artificial grass for Urz, exercise equipment, and plenty of space for him to get his energy out.

It was also, most thankfully, empty.

She waited until he finished his business, then bagged and disposed of the crap. They ran the length of the bay several times, until the lazy bastard decided enough was enough, and snored beside the treadmill she hopped on. With five miles in, she had a serene runner's high going. The perfect time to bite the bullet.

"Blue?"

"Yes, Jane?" The light sprang to life.

"Is anyone near the showers?"

"Two service women are currently in the restroom. One is peeing. The other is washing."

"Okay." She'd have to wait until the coast was clear. Even if that meant being sticky and gross all day.

"The Commander informed me that you are free to use his private shower at any time."

"Wait, you told him?! What'd you say?"

"I was instructed to inform him of any needs you may have. I said, 'she would like to use the shower in privacy.' He said, 'she can use mine.' Nothing more."

"Oh, okay."

The thing about showers was, they were her vice. That feeling of being so thoroughly clean was a luxury sorely missed on Tuchanka. And now that she had a taste once more, it was hard to shake. She threw caution to the wind and headed to deck three for a towel and a shower caddy, then punched the elevator button for the top level.

When she entered the Commander's cabin, he was leaning against the desk, as massive as always. The biggest human she ever saw. Frank had been big but squat, and besides, his bigness was mostly fat. Weaver was pretty tall. In fact, she thought he was the biggest human in existence. Yet, this man would've towered over him. He was more tree than human - large and outrageous and distinctly not turian. (The other really big guy she knew.) His shoulders spanned an impressive length that felt more akin to horns than the knobby, fleshy things that should occupy the space.

"Hey," he stammered.

And, like always, the second he opened his mouth her head started to pound. Like a hammer crashing against a steel pot over and over, it formed a steady beat between her temples.

"The shower is right over there. Just tell EDI you want privacy mode, and she'll butt right out." Footsteps rose between the drums. "See? It has a door. Complete privacy." The rest was stammered too. Words jittering in his mouth before falling out. Maybe that's why her head was so weird around him. The guy was perpetually nervous, not to mention nice. It made her wonder what he wanted. She already knew what he was hiding, so it couldn't be that.

"Thank you," she said, transfixed by the carpet.

"O-of c-course. I-I take care of my crew."

"For Urz and Egg. I mean. You didn't have to do that."

He shot her a weird grinning-nod-thing that reminded her of the doctor (butcher) she ran into earlier, and departed for the sofa. Thankfully her mind loosened once he was further away, leaving her capable of drinking in the surroundings.

The cabin was … rather nice actually. With a large bed covered in a white blanket, a sprawling couch, and an aquarium that doused the room in cool blue offset by odd, lumpy shadows that turned out to be dead fish floating at the top.

Right.

She turned, stepped into the washroom – a compact little chamber with barely enough room to turn around – and set her clothes on the toilet lid before asking the Blue Bulb which switch did what.

"Are you familiar with water conservation practices?" The serene voice chimed.

"No."

"You'll get one burst of water to wet yourself. Most humans apply soap after, then hit the switch for the rest of their water allotment. It ends automatically after two minutes. Use them well."

"Why wasn't the first shower like this?"

"93% of your surface was caked in dirt, sweat, blood, and remnants of both animal and Collector tissue. I concluded that we could spare the water, just the once."

This was her kind of computer. Instead of complicated buttons and input sequences, all she had to do was talk and wala! Things worked.

The initial spray was freezing, but no longer than a second. She poured a handful of soap on her head. It needed it the most, as she only removed the bone beads to a couple of her braids. Her hair was gnarly and untamable, and removing more beads would only result in it being even more gnarly and untamable. She worked her fingers through the knots to the scalp beneath, scrubbing it raw. Maybe the hair couldn't be straightened out, but at the very least she wanted it clean.

After, she lathered soap on the rest of her body, ensuring every inch received attention, and flipped the shower switch. A blast of cold hit, before heating to a delectable temperature. Every second was heaven. And it took a concerted effort to prod herself from dormancy in order to ensure her whole body was rinsed.

It was over before it had really begun, and she ran her fingers through her hair, noting the lack of slickness or soap residue. Right before she spotted a square reflecting glass above the sink. It had been… over a year since she saw her own reflection. She almost winced at the thought, remembering the hollow eyes and pinched, sallow skin that peered back at her on Omega. But curiosity won the day, and she found herself bunching up the towel and wiping away the cloudy steam.

The woman staring back at her was different. More her – except older. The last time she saw this person, she was living in a brothel, the lights of the vanity buzzing as she glossed her lips – a quick pick-me-up before she was due back onstage. Oblivious to the night that laid before her, and the changes it would bring. There was so much time between then and Omega. And when she saw that… person… again she couldn't recognize her.

Automatically, her fingers traced the scar – the edge of which began at her shoulder, traveling down and down. It was just as ugly as ever. Even if the lines were no longer a deep, brownish red and had evolved into a silvery-white. The mere sight of it caused her to grimace, and immediately pull on a shirt.

Looking at that was its own circle of hell.

So she stopped, dried off, and used the towel to mop up any lingering puddles. When she stepped into the Commander's cabin, she was fresh, clean, and ready to get back to Urz. Or maybe Garrus, if he was finished with his 'calibrations.'

Only the Commander had other ideas. He chose that moment to strike up a conversation. One she had to listen to, now that she was indebted to the man. "I-I'm sorry about your team on Omega."

"People die," she snapped. "That's how the world works."

His eyes widened slightly, but he decided against speaking. And for the life of her, she couldn't read past that. She couldn't figure out what he wanted. It wasn't something simple like sex. Otherwise, he wouldn't have posed as her brother.

Two fingers pressed against the side of her head. She winced.

She almost wondered if it was some sort of ploy by the Omega gangs. But even she knew how ridiculous that sounded.

Obviously, her biotics were something he was (or would be) after. But his behavior didn't line up with someone looking for a weapon.

This lack of understanding was driving her insane.

"I wanted… to show you some pictures."

The request was disarmingly simple. So, she shrugged and joined him on the couch without a second thought. He stiffened, as a slight tremble traveled through his hands. They sat side by side for a minute before he pushed through whatever was wrong, and handed her a photo.

It contained a man whose hair was as dark as a night without stars, with matching eyes and bronze skin. His teeth were bared. And she couldn't tell if he was yelling or laughing. Human faces were like firecrackers. But at least this one was still.

She looked at it for a time. Not sure what she was supposed to do, or how to indicate that's nice but I'm done now.

"This is one of my favorites." He said as he handed her another.

It depicted a woman with golden-brown hair and bright eyes – whose color was lost to the glossy surface. On her hip was a little girl. The child couldn't be more than four, with vibrant red hair and a face full of freckles – her grubby hands locked in motion, pawing at the woman's face.

Why was he showing her these people? Normally, the pointlessness would've driven her out the door by now. But she played along. Intrigued by how closely this Commander guy was watching as he handed her each photograph.

The last one was… different. And not because it was in a frame. There was more to it. The man from earlier was in it. And a girl, who didn't even clear his his stomach, leaned against him. She faced away from the camera, to where the man was pointing. He was dressed in jean-type overalls and a shirt that was no longer white. The girl in dark pants and a sweatshirt, that did nothing to conceal her skinny frame. An urge rose, settling in her throat. She wanted that child to turn her head.

Steady drums. A rising tide.

Her eyes darted to the backdrop, where a buggy resided, and beyond that a house. Her eyes roved over it, taking in the peeled paint and weather-worn roof, heavy with silt. (Fine grain in the palms. It got in your eyes.) There was a metal thingy on the roof with a bird on top and arrows below. Somehow, she knew it creaked in the wind.

Abruptly, the photo fled from her hands. Glass shattering as it slammed against the wall.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then the Commander spoke. But she couldn't hear. Drums thumped between her temples, pulsating with pain.

She was halfway to the elevator. Shallow breaths. That damned human hot on her heels. Once inside, she slammed her fist against the button for deck three. Once, twice, why wouldn't it go faster? His already immense shoulders seemed to be growing, engulfing the entire cart, until he was bigger than big. And his head floated above her. Pale and menacing. It was causing this. He was causing this. MAKEITSTOP.

The door opened. She tumbled out. Everything was far away. People's mouths were moving. Some stared. She could see the whites of their eyes. Too much. Too big. The Commander reached toward her and she used the blue, pulsated across the deck, straight into a pod. Blood. A hole in her face. One less tooth. She didn't remember what happened next, only that she was in the battery, Garrus's talons gripping both arms, holding her in front of him. One mandible moving with his mouth.

She was underwater.

She was drowning.

He started shaking her. He was trying to save her from drowning. But she couldn't… she didn't know how to come back. Then she was clawing at those metallic tubes with no recollection of how she got there. Garrus stopped her, by grabbing and pinning her to his side. She watched the omni-tool glow against his mouth.

A woman entered. Tall and gray. At first, she thought it was Nalah, and started toward her. But the face was all wrong. She stumbled back, trying to melt into everything and anything around her so no one would see. (See what? See what?)

She told the woman to get back. To leave her be.

Except they didn't understand her. Even Garrus stared, one mandible clenched to his face, the other hidden beneath the bandage. (Not where it should be.) He looked right through her, as if she wasn't even real. The woman and him glanced at one another.

What were they saying, yet not saying?

A biting pressure on her shoulder. A glance told her that she'd just been jabbed by none other than Mordin.

Mordin's on this ship?

Her mind slowed, dragging her back to the real.

"Dammit! I asked what I should do! Not to drug her." Angry sub-vocals grated through the air.

"Dangerous area for biotic fit. Necessary." Mordin replied.

"Out! Just get out."

Footsteps clicked against the floor. The door swished as it closed. Everything was heavy. Sluggish. But whatever was … there … was gone again.

She swayed.

"Hey," Garrus moved to grab her. "I didn't know he was … are you alright?"

She nodded.

He guided her to his cot, which she abruptly tumbled into before regaining control of her limbs enough to sit. Garrus left and returned so fast she was scarcely aware of his absence.

"Here," he handed her an ice pack.

"How'd you know?" Her words were too long and sort of drooled out of her mouth.

"You kept saying 'my head hurts,' do… you remember that?"

Her beads clacked together as she shook her head. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"Being crazy."

"Going through something is not crazy." He paused. And she could feel the air shift around them, but was too far gone to absorb his gestures. "You can rest here if you like. I'll be at my workstation for awhile yet and could use the company."

"Mmmkay." She said as her head fell against his pillow. Smiling at the familiar scent of earthy-mists and hard rain. He used the same soap. The distant clack of keys reached her ears – Garrus tapping away at his workstation. Every now and then she could feel his eyes on her, but it was a solace instead of a warning.

The smells… the gentle atmosphere… it all took her back to the early days on Omega. When she was more lump than person, sleeping in a strange alien's bed, wondering how everything was inside out and upside down.

Omega

The team always assumed Krul befriended her first. But Ripper filled that role. It was an accidental, midnight meeting in the kitchen that sparked their friendship. She had been avoiding everyone on base, and went so still when Ripper unexpectedly meandered in for a snack that the ex-merc didn't even notice her. Not until he switched the lights on and turned to find her no more than two feet away. He jumped, and a flicker of recognition passed over his face. Then he shook his head and smiled to himself, as if seeing her any different was the dumbest thing.

"You's not scared of me at all, are you's?" A grin twinged at the corners of his mouth. "Nahh. You's got those big eyes and that puppy stare, but ice in you's veins."

She wound up joining his game later that night. The first time she ever played, or even saw, a video game. Such an incredible experience! The picture-vids Potok showed her were enthralling, but never so… personable. It made her feel very important. And she devolved into a fit of embarrassed giggles. How could she be controlling something so glamorous?

He leaned in to show her something with the controller when it happened. Actually she wasn't even certain that it happened, until it happened. Some foreign part of her brain took over, and she simply reacted. One second she was staring at the screen, the next she was straddling him despite the cast – her fingers wrapped around his cock, and no memory of how she wound up there.

"I's likes you's but not that much."

She froze. "Shit. Shit shit. I'm sorry.. I don't… I don't know how I..."

"Ehh. Don't worry none. Been around enough fucked up kids to know that damage." He pushed her off and tossed over a controller. "C'mon. I's show you's how to do somethin' fun. Bunch of pussies on this base. Won' play wit' me cuz I yell when I lose. I says, I gots plenty to yell about. Somethin' tells me you's cooler," [colder, harder] "than that. Ya feel me?"

"A little too well."

Both burst into laughter.

He created a character so she had someone to level with. And they spent the entire night blasting through the beginner area. Her mind was boggled (again) when he informed her that the game became even more difficult. She lost count of the number of times she walked off a cliff or into a volcano. Moving the stick the right way was much harder than it looked.

But dawn had arrived and the base would be up soon. Right before they left for their respective beds, Ripper tapped her on the shoulder.

"Here's lemme show you's somethin'." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing loads of fat, horizontal scars in orderly rows. "These are kills. See's, when I was back on Earth, I decided some folk needed doin' in. First I was jus' gunning for kiddy diddlers. But I started expandin' since no one was doin' shit about the others neither. Every one of these notches represents a molester or rapist I's took out. And this one." His finger moved to reveal a scabbed, half-healed bit. "This one's for that captain o' yours. Garrus mighta did him, but I's helped. So, I's figured I's earned it. Anyone messes with you though, and I's puttin' another notch in my arm. Wanted you's to know that."

Right as her hand reached toward his patch of marred flesh, Jane started awake. Still too blurry to see straight, the strange, omnipresent buzzing of the ship's battery greeted her. It wasn't a sound she had heard before coming aboard the Normandy. And it certainly didn't belong on Omega.

Gods-fucking-dammit. Why do the good ones always die, and never monsters like me?