A/N: In which we gain a look into Jane's mind, and a glimpse at how she (mentally) survived. Although, that might depend on individual interpretation. And do bear in mind we're seeing John's reaction to things. Garrus, for instance, has a far different stance on Jane's particular brand of crazy.

In this chapter, we're not only seeing her from a human's perspective, but how she is after the krogan tea ritual – which made her a lot more open about her internal life, especially with herself. Her thoughts are more organized, she can better articulate what's going on in her head - not that she's finished evolving past that issue. We're also seeing her in an anxious/excited state versus what's natural for her: suspicious, which makes her come off as aloof/shy. For instance, when she first came to live on the base she was very quiet and cautious as she learned about her new environment. Garrus she got to know in a more traditional way – a slow building of trust that was greatly enhanced by her learning about Sciffy. Even Tali had a period of caution, albeit brief, as they got to know one another through Galaxy of Fantasy. (Something far less intense than in-person interactions.) However, with Shepard, Jane has gone from pure hatred towards an impostor, to realizing he's her beloved big brother. Pretty sure the woman gave herself whiplash.

But that's enough from an author's note. I'll let the story tell the rest.

Jane Shepard

When Wrex said she was to leave, she felt as though her heart would stop, wished for it. She didn't want to return to what she was – a blobular creature with no form, no lines. The very thought revolted her, remembering how she was at the base – no goals, no purpose, just existing. In the clan, her role was clear, defined. She understood that world and her place within it. She was a huntress, a protector, a monster with purpose. Wrex always insisted there was a difference between a monster and a survivor, but his actions showed her that difference was purpose, and she found her own truth in his words.

There was consolation in the fact Garrus and Tali were aboard, a need to separate them from this dangerous liar. It quickly became the new thing to strive for. Her new purpose.

Now she laid on the bed, relishing the smooth, clean sheets, listening to Jim's breathing a mere handful of feet away. Steady. Even. Snoring. Her brother.

Once again, everything was inside out and upside down. She'd have to find a new equilibrium, a new way of life. Wrex's goodbye drifted between her ears: Surviving's the easy part. Now you've gotta live. At the time, her mind was like a stone, too angry at being sent away to absorb what he was saying.

She recalled the articles she read about Jim, the videos she watched, long ago on Omega when she didn't have to contend with the reality of him, when he'd been alive for merely a second, then returned to the nothingness of death.

Feelings of intimidation, fallacy, and inadequacy flooded her. She was seized with anxiety. Never before had she concerned herself with being liked by someone. Seduction, subservience, or force were how she confronted people, obstacles, everything.

Omega had been different, she was liked with no role, valued without being used, but idleness left her consumed by her own mind, and she couldn't recall how she arrived at acceptance. Now she was faced with trying to repeat something with nothing to draw on. Jim wanted to know her, to see her, to listen to her. But she wasn't sure what that entailed. With the krogan, even among the women, she regaled them with stories of fights, bringing down banthas and roshmaws, her brush with the thresher maw. With Garrus, there was a thread of deep familiarity, and they shared things she wasn't comfortable speaking about with Jim.

Lying in bed obsessing over it wasn't getting her anywhere. So she filled the time with taking care of Urz and dropping in on Garrus. The latter of whom was sound of asleep in his cot, steeping in the sharp smell of alcohol. She thought about waking him, saying that he was worrying her, that he was drinking too much, but she wasn't one to judge and she didn't know how to convey concern without it coming across like that. She understood use for a purpose – it helped cover up the darkness with pretend light. So she resigned herself to silence and left for the cargo bay. Urz gave him a couple slobbery kisses on the way out though. He didn't stir.

She returned to Jim an hour later with Urz in tow. When the door hissed open, she hovered at the threshold, unsure about Urz's presence – the cooks in Urdnot were always adamant about varren not being in clean places. And Jim's room certainly qualified in that regard.

He was awake, at his desk. "You can come in."

"Even Urz?"

"I don't mind."

"He drools on everything."

Jim laughed, "it's a problem I missed having."

She entered and Urz immediately began checking out the new area. Smelling every inch of the cabin.

"I figured you should meet some of the crew or at least Joker. He's been dying to say hi."

"They… know about me?"

He leaned in, speaking softly, "only Joker since he was part of the Rotund raid. The others know that you're my sister and have been living on Tuchanka. I can't promise they didn't put two and two together, especially given that they installed language packets for Rishini, but I figured it wasn't my story to tell."

The smile on her face stretched from ear to ear.

"After that I have a full day planned on the Citadel… and I was hoping you'd come."

She agreed with enthusiasm, eager to see this mythical place that Garrus, Weaver, and Meirin spoke of so often.

The Normandy tour was interesting. Sort of.

Gabby and Ken were first on the agenda. Gabby was nice but boring. Ken was bizarre. The way he spoke reminded her of ankibo, livestock from Kar'Shan responsible for pulling carts. She had to use the readout on her omnitool to glean a fraction of his words, and even then the translation was broken up and confusing. At least the introduction didn't last long.

They ran into someone named Zaeed though, and the way Jim stepped between them suggested he didn't like the man much, even if he was the type of person she was most at ease around – a fighter with well-sharpened edges and hard eyes. Far more comfortable than all this… niceness the crew was heaping on her.

It was Joker she was most interested in meeting, however. The articles she read about him left an impression, though reality turned out much different than she pictured. The man was a translucent pale and painfully thin, with sticks for legs and skin pulled taught over knobby bones. The pale light of the cockpit illuminated the dusky blue whites of his eyes. He sat in the pilot's chair, a hat with a shader on his head, smiling at her with a familiarity they lacked.

"Hi, I'm Joker."

"Okay." That was all she said.

He glanced up nervously at Jim, who picked up the conversation. "We're off to the Citadel. Don't take any joyrides while I'm gone."

"Like I could. IT is always watching."

"For once I'm grateful."

"You're just saying that to punish me." The pilot griped as they walked into the airlock, where Garrus and Tali joined them.

John Shepard

The initial walk was uneventful. They passed through the jetway, through an empty terminal, and into an elevator. But when they hit the ground floor, the location of customs and hundreds – perhaps thousands – of people, Shepard felt Jane freeze. The air shifted as she exclaimed, "Igothan's shiny head, what the shit is this? I'm getting my knife."

"Weapons aren't allowed on the Citadel." Garrus responded.

"I don't really give a crap about what's allowed." She pointed at the crowd. "That's the Hegemony."

"How are you getting that?"

"How are you not? Look at the order, how everyone's lined up waiting their turn. Shit buckets! They're searching that guy's bag. I thought the Citadel was like Omega. I mean, they're both space stations. But this? This has the Hegemony written all over it. We need weapons. Lots of weapons."

"No knives Jane. And no biotics either."

Jane was staring at Garrus like he'd grown a second head. He ducked low, trying to reach eye level with her, even though she was still shorter. "You trust me right?"

"Yes."

"Then trust me when I say the Citadel is safe. And if anyone tries anything, trust that your brother will take care of it before you even realize what's happening. Well you'd realize it, but still let him take care of things. Do not attack anyone. Period."

She glanced up at him, eyes darting from Garrus to the scene before them. And Shepard had to admit, it was an unnerving sight. Customs wasn't just crowded, it was mosh-pit level crowded, with loosely-formed lines feeding into massive, full-body scanners designed for every species under the sun – Elcor included. Several officers in plainclothes walked the perimeter, something Jane immediately honed in on.

"I served with him." Garrus loosed a warm rumble. "He's better than me, and you need to trust that, otherwise C-Sec will be on you like a vorcha on fresh meat. This isn't your world. Things are different here."

"I can put a barrier up at least, right?"

"Technically, yes. But you'll attract unwanted attention. Emphasis on unwanted."

"This place is seriously messed up. Why'd you like it more than Omega?"

"I…." He paused for a moment, mandibles twitching. "I didn't."

Jane placed a hand on his armored shoulder. "Where are you going anyway?"

"The doctor. I've got another pre-op exam."

"Not alone you're not."

"Oh I'll be fine. No whack jobs with scalpels, promise."

"They're doctors Garrus. They're all whack jobs with scalpels."

He turned, now halfway down the ramp, mandibles spread wide, "I live for danger!"

"Uh huh."

"Jane, I'll be fine. See you tonight." And with that he was off.

Huerta was on a completely separate level than where they were headed, and had its own section in customs. So their paths diverged on then and there. Jane's eyes lingered where he disappeared among the throngs of people, before returning to him and Tali.

They slowly inched towards customs. After the exchange between Garrus and Jane, Shepard was keeping a close eye on his sister. With every step she seemed to be growing increasingly agitated, until Tali intervened by sandwiching Jane between them, buffering her against the swarm of people. He used his old spectre codes to cut through the line, and they made it all the way to security without incident, crossing under the body scanner in unison, when the buzzer went off. "One at a time!" A turian officer hollered in their direction.

"Sorry sir." He motioned to Jane. "She's new to the Citadel and we're just…"

"One at a time." The officer repeated with that tired, monotone voice of a government worker.

Shepard turned to the girls, "I'm going to head in first. Jane you can follow after. Sound good squirt?"

Jane wasn't really listening. She was observing the bustle of people with narrowed eyes, hand twitching towards her hip where her knife usually resided. He glanced up, and sure enough the turian officer was scrutinizing her. The matted hair, the beads, the baggy clothes, her bizarre behavior, all of it was raising red flags with him. Shepard made a mental note to keep an eye on the officer and tore himself from Jane's side. He passed through the body scanner. Immediately, alarms began to sound.

"Shut it down!" The officer hollered into his com. "You can't possibly think this is… uh huh. Uh.. oh."

The turian glanced up sheepishly. "Sorry sir the system seems to think you're … dead."

"I was only mostly dead. Try finding that on government paperwork." Shepard quipped.

"Uh… yeah we need to fix that for you."

He was given directions to the local C-Sec precinct, and waited near the exit for the girls, one of whom was concerning him more and more. Jane was standing in front of the body scanner, with slits for eyes and the slightest uptick in her lips. Tali pulled her close and whispered something, to which Jane responded, cupping her hand against the helmet. After the brief exchange, Jane edged forward, again pausing at the scanner's threshold, evoking the officer's agitation. "We don't have all day," he growled. Jane snapped straight as an arrow, the officer's suspicions boiled over, and Shepard had to intervene, going so far as to invoke his spectre rank, before she wound up searched.

Finally she passed through the scanner, and the officer's demeanor changed almost instantly. His mandibles twitched, and he abruptly glued his gaze to the console. "You'll want to see the Chief about your… identification." He cleared his throat, "for both of you. Although, if you're headed to the hospital, I can grant the three of you a temporary pass."

"The hospital? No we're just tourists today."

"Of course." Shepard felt the scrutiny shift from Jane to himself. The officer's next words weren't so much a suggestion as an order. "Straight through the doors, you'll find Chief Bailey. He'll be expecting you."

Thankfully Tali passed through without incident, and they made their way into the precinct, where a gravely voice greeted them. "I see the problem here Commander Shepard. I can reinstate your ID no problem."

"Leave it. The mission I'm on, I could use the secrecy." Shepard responded.

"Sure. Not like I have to worry about you smuggling weapons or red sand through the Citadel." He paused and addressed Jane, who was clinging to the dividing wall between the precinct and wards, a wild look in her eye. "You can head in if you like." And she bolted out, Tali trailing close behind.

"About your…" the Chief started.

"Sister." Shepard finished.

"Yeah I can see that right here."

"From a scan?"

"This thing can detect DNA from skin flakes. Course I know the relation. I also know she has a tattoo on her left arm. An authentic batarian slave ID."

Shepard sighed. "Is this gonna be a problem?"

"Depends on how you want to address this."

His Omni-tool buzzed. And Jane's elementary school-photo materialized. The one he sent to the galaxy wide database for missing and exploited children. The first thing he did after Mindoir.

"I also have a rather suspicious death certificate. Filed almost a decade after the missing person's report, which is somehow still active. Guess returning from the dead runs in the family."

He rubbed the back of his neck. Silently.

"Normally I'd pull her file, close the missing person's case. But that would also involve declaring her alive."

"Shit. The media would be all over that."

"She ready for it?"

"I… don't know."

"Well then, how about I press this button over here and we call it a day?"

"You're… quick to help."

"Look I've got no problem with procedure, but when the red tape gets so long it keeps people from doing their jobs or living an honest life, I look the other way. And something tells me you have enough on your plate without a media frenzy."

"And this will keep her off the radar?"

"Damn straight. I can pull her missing person's report, close that out and file it under 'spectre business.' Then the whole shebang's classified. Although she won't be able to open a bank account, apply for employment or even housing until it's lifted. That gonna be an issue?"

"Do it. I'm taking care of things."

"Done. I should deactivate that ID of hers before you leave though."

"Deactivate … you mean it's active? Giving readouts on where she's been?"

"Yup."

"Forward that to me."

"Sure thing." He felt the buzz of an incoming message. "Now grab your sister and bring her over so I can get back to work."

He quickly located Jane and Tali. Jane had recovered from her experience in customs and was deep in conversation with a pair of krogan, while Tali hung a few feet back talking into her com. Both were gesticulating as they spoke, as if feeding off each other's energy. Tali informed him she needed to see to a pilgrim, and departed for the local turian shelter, leaving the two of them alone. He then turned his attention to Jane, informed her that the C-Sec officer needed to speak with her. She cooperated with narrowed eyes and stiff interactions.

As they ventured through Zakera Ward, on their way to the Presidium, his fears about Jane's mental state evaporated. She ran up and down the strip, eyes shining in astonishment at the variety of shops, never-seen-before aliens, foreign cooking smells, everything was new and exciting, and her elation became infectious. He found himself caught up in the moment, laughing along, explaining what Elcor and Volus were, how the latter used pressurized suits. She was enraptured with his explanations, and soon they were debating what Volus must look like under said suits. They concluded with 'something akin to a mushed-up-fish.'

She had this way of speaking that pulled him into her world, so detailed and vivid that he could almost see the Citadel through her eyes. The shops, with their glowing neon signs, were like babaghas – colorful parrots who used their beauty to attract mates, (customers.) She made up stories about the passerbys, seeing in each individual entirely separate worlds, nations, with intricate details about their lives. A volus waddling by was a pirate with crates upon crates of gold hidden aboard his star-ship. An asari from Isotin, a planet she made up on the fly, was famous for her cakes. She spent day and night turning the confections into pieces of artwork – chocolate statues, towers of pink frosting with candy flowers, others saturated in alcohol and lit on fire. Burnt was 'in' this season apparently.

On the Presidium, the trees were of particular fascination to her – bright pink with blue trunks and tiny, glowing blossoms. She asked where they were from, and he read the plaque situated in front of the garden aloud, announcing that they were Teslikh trees native to Thessia. "Thirty-three would've loved this," she said with a lopsided smile.

He didn't pry.

They wound their way through the Presidium gardens to the local bank, Qjevfre, run by a prestigious Volus clan, and something that he would never try to pronounce. Then the abrupt realization that his bank account, once overflowing with creds, had been emptied hit him. He almost punched the ATM console as it droned, 'you have zero credits.'

He muttered to himself, "well, now what?"

"I have money." Jane piped up.

"You… what? How?"

"Anderson."

Shepard hadn't given up on his account just yet, and demanded from the VI, "where did all my credits go exactly?"

"Urdnot Wrex. Listed on the last will and testament of John Shepard, the now deceased Qjevfre-One member."

He snorted. "Riiight. That's gone. I wonder how much he had to shell out for the bee genome."

She pressed a scratched-up, moldy bit of metal into his palm. "Seriously, I don't want it. It's not mine. And it bothers me."

"I … don't think this is gonna work."

"Oh? So it's gone now?" She sounded oddly happy about that.

"No… I just think we need to head inside."

His spectre rank preceded him at the bank, and broke or not, when the teller heard he needed help with an account, they were immediately escorted to a private desk. Jane sat in the chair beside him, knee bouncing, eyes darting every which way, taking in the sights. Everyone – the volus included – picked up on the fact that there was something odd about her. He had to draw the teller's attention before they could start. "I need discretion in this matter. This young lady has an account under a pseudonym and her credit chit is… damaged."

"I can fix it most likely. What exactly…"

Jane dropped the chit on the table.

"What… happened to this? Water damage? And…?" He snuffled, and set a pin-pad in front of her – which Jane did not catch onto. "We'll need to replace this."

"You enter your pin." Shepard offered, tapping the contraption with his forefinger.

"Nalah said not to."

"It's okay in the bank." Still no answer. "And when you buy something, you scan your chit, and enter in your pin."

"I don't want anything."

"You need things. Look, after today, I'll cover you."

Her mouth hung open for a second. "I gave it to you! Why are we back here?"

"You… don't want it?"

"I never wanted it! You take it!"

"Anderson gave this to you so you could start a life, buy the things you need."

"Credits don't make a baby! I've been alive before I had any, didn't need it then why would I now? And I don't want a baby anyway."

His mind screeched to a halt, it took him a minute to untangle that and respond. "No starting a life means… education, career, things like that. Do… you know what a career is?"

"No."

"It's what you do for a living. For example, I'm a soldier."

"So am I."

"If you wanted to do something else, with this, you could."

"I could go to school?"

"Of course!"

She turned to the volus, and in the most hilariously serious voice said, "I'd like to buy a place in school."

It was a near thing. The laugh that erupted from him was barely stifled. His body shook as he brought his hand to his mouth. "Jane, uh … that's not how it works. How about we add me to the account, and I'll take care of you getting an education."

"Okay." She went back to observing her surroundings, drinking in the marble ceiling, the golden arches.

They hit a snag – Jane didn't have a standard bank account, but a custodial one with Nalah Butler as the executor. She sent Nalah a note about the whole thing, and he used his spectre codes to simply over-write it. They needed to get on with the day.

Shepard and the teller were talking amicably, and he was in the middle of signing paperwork, when Jane took an interest in the nick-nacks displayed on his desk, particularly the little statues. She picked them up, tossed them between her hands, then tried biting down on a glass polar bear.

"Are they nuts?" Her fingers picked at the glass, "I don't get it."

The teller sucked in air in that long, snuffling way volus were prone to, yet it went on and on with no end in sight.

"Sorry," Shepard intervened. "She's new to… everything." He snagged the bear, wiped it on his shirt, and returned it to the desk. "Hands to yourself Jane."

"What are they for?"

"Decoration. Like the bones on your wall back on Tuchanka."

"Oh."

"She's from Tuchanka?" The volus seemed to have forgotten himself.

"In a sense." Shepard answered. "It's a long story."

Twenty minutes and several curious stares later, he was now the executor of Jane's custodial account and, instead of a credit-chit, it was connected to both their fingerprints. All this, of course, was done under the moniker Jane Doe, something he wasn't entirely happy about. But he didn't know what else to do. The media would salivate at the notion of getting their hands on her story. Was she okay enough to handle that? He'd rather not find out the hard way.

With that taken care of, he grabbed the data-pad and they made their way back to the Wards. Jane wanted to see the krogan statue first though. It would've been far more entertaining if the Presidium wasn't so heavily policed. Halfway through Avina's spiel about the krogan's sacrifice during the Rachni Wars, Jane hopped the fence behind the VI and abruptly jumped in the water. She reemerged with a thunderous splash, intensified by his anxiety over someone spotting her.

"What are you doing?!" He exclaimed.

"Looking for fish. Kargesh asked."

"Who? Never-mind! Get out of there!"

He spun around, a crowd was gathering.

"NOW!"

The second she was on dry land, he grabbed her by the arm and rushed to the wards access tunnel. Her legs were so damn short that he nearly threw her over his shoulder and ran. Thankfully they made it before any C-Sec officers caught on. She stood, dripping, running her fingers along her scalp. "Err. What'd I do?"

"No one's supposed to touch the water."

"Seriously? Why is this place so weird?" Her nose wrinkled as she passed a matted bit of hair under it. "What's wrong with the water?"

"They treat it with chemicals." Again, he checked that the access tunnel was empty, no one was following them, then turned back to her, laughing at her sorry state. "You look like a mop."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He ushered her to the spectre facilities, with many assurances that the showers were private, and found her a change of clothes – Alliance fatigues. They sagged in places, but were closer to her size than what she'd been wearing.

Somewhere between being sent a vid of Jane swimming on the Presidium and Bailey's amused email, subject line: How's The Reunion Going?, she vanished into the showers. Shepard responded, promising to never let the incident reoccur, and by the time Jane returned, Bailey had let the matter drop.

He wanted to head straight for the shoe store, the mere thought of Jane's defaced feet made him wince, but when she took him by the hand and dragged him to an asari arts & crafts shop, he couldn't deny her. She picked out several sketchbooks, pencils, and blank manuscripts for music. It was thrilling to see her personality and tastes come through.

Their day on the Citadel was touching, wonderful. Yet he also spent that time studying Jane, trying to learn what made her tick.

In Zakera Ward, among mainly Volus, Elcor, and Hanar she had been at ease. Her guard lowered, and she explored with a child-like wonder. Yet, when they arrived at Shin Akiba, a human commercial zone where he planned to picked up her shoes and clothes, she seemed out of place. Withdrawn. And that peculiar habit of walking behind him returned. She shelled up inside herself, only giving what was necessary and nothing more, "hi, yes, thank you, I'm good," these phrases were repeated again and again. It was such an extreme contrast to her earlier behavior, that he wondered if it wasn't crowds she was afraid of but humans.

Her comment about oily, hairless men stuck with him, but he didn't think that was the issue. After Mindoir, he tortured himself researching conditions human slaves faced, particularly females. Searching for any shred of information on what she was going through was his way of keeping her alive. Because she was alive, and he was the only one left who cared.

The Hegemony was founded on deeply religious doctrine. Concepts such as purity permeated their society. Even brothels, which were technically illegal but populated under the table by the government, held onto these beliefs. Male humans were rare in these establishments, and when they were present, they were always housed separately, worked separately, ate separately. Females residing under the same roof, even in separate rooms, would produce scandal, cost them customers. Should a male from the slave caste so much as touch one of the female workers, she'd immediately be labeled unclean and thrown out, possibly killed.

This clearly hadn't been Jane's fate. In fact, data on her was so sparse that he had read the entire file at a glance. The tattoo held only two entries, Day'Groppna, which strangely had no end date, and her sale to the Rotund, which he was already familiar with. Not a hint of impurity lurked in that file.

And yet she recoiled from humans, an automatic, almost primal, reaction. He could even see how she was different towards him than, say, the krogan she was speaking with earlier. The skin flinching. The odd quiver in her face. Hard swallows. How she was when when they first hugged, wooden and hollow, the cold, sinking feeling it produced in him.

She was doing her best to repress whatever that was, and he was in unfamiliar territory – anxious to get to know her again. Over analyzing small things. So he tried letting it go. But it boiled over in the shoe shop. While handing her a pair of sneakers, the clerk's hand brushed hers and her whole demeanor changed. Something dark passed over her features, a sinister shift in the air. It looked more like disgust than fear, and if he wasn't mistaken, she wretched slightly, swallowing hard to cover it up.

The clerk caught on, retreated. Shepard quickly paid, and escorted Jane out of Shin Akiba. She was clearly at her limit, possibly overwhelmed by too many new experiences happening all at once.

They returned to the Presidium gardens. Jane strolled through the compact pathways, pausing to smooth the leaves between her fingers. Once she was calm, sitting on a bench beneath a teslikh tree, he broached the question, "what… happened back in the shoe shop?" Then added, "with the clerk?"

"I dunno."

"I think you do."

She became profoundly interested in her hands, rubbing her fingers together. "I don't have any lines."

"Lines?"

"Yes. Lines. I don't have any lines, I get infected, it makes me sick."

Her jaw clenched, and from the side, he could see the sharp outline of someone who had been extremely ill, skeletal, at some point in their life. so he dropped it not wanting to cause her further distress. Plus, he felt like he needed an additional translator. One that translated not just Rishini, but JaneSpeak. Sometimes her speech was succinct, her words painting vivid imagery in his mind. Other times she spoke in riddles, mumbling in circles so that her speech muddled things further.

Instead of pressing, he asked if she wanted lunch. His favorite Thai place was still open, he'd love to show her.

She agreed readily, and before they set off, he sent a text to Miranda asking about his paycheck. Her response was cutting, stating that he hadn't done anything yet, why should he be paid? Fair enough. He could replace what they spent later.

They settled in a booth. Jane had concerns. Apparently hot, spicy dishes were easy to slip things into. "The heat acts as a catalyst Jim. Something that may not be poisonous alone, in the cold, with heat it can combine and kill you. And you won't taste it through the spice."

How the person who knew nothing about modern society had a decent grasp on chemistry was beyond him, but she calmed in the face of his affirmations and they ordered.

While they waited, Jane took out one of her sketchbooks, and outlined their surroundings, glancing up at him every so often. He got the feeling that his likeness would soon be added to the pages. He smiled, asked about her music. The explanation he received was breathless, vivacious in detail, and spoken with a rapid assuredness that suggested a well-honed talent. "I didn't realize how much you loved music."

"Oh! I… yeah I suppose I do."

He shot her a quizzical look, which flew right over her head, inciting him to prod further. "You… didn't know you liked it?"

"It's always been music liking me, you know? It was always there, all the colors singing for me so I wasn't alone. I thought… after the ships… it was gone." She looked at him with wide, shattered eyes. A split second, and it was gone. "But I reached for it… and it was there waiting. At first it was faint. That was Omega. Then, after the krogan helped me, it came back! All of it! I used to wonder if I became like the others, even though I wasn't chipped, it was quiet and empty." She grinned from ear to ear. "But now I'm whole again."

"I … think you might have to explain that one a bit. Your… colors… sing?"

"Sort of. It's like…" She closed her eyes, opening them with a beaming smile that burst across her features. "I step into another world. There are people there. Friends. Some of them are real. Some of them aren't. Each of them has their own, wondrous story. Sometimes they're on the ground like me. Sometimes they're a piece of the galaxy, forever expanding around us. My favorites are stars, whose light isn't seen for a millennia – they burn and burn and burn for ages but no one knows! No one hears! And yet they keep burning. For them. Maybe for the stars around them? I take their their colors and stories, and turn it into something people can hear. The Shaman called it a third eye. At night, the clan would sit around the fire while I played. Their hands are too big for string instruments so most of their music involves bells and drums and things. I hope they liked it."

He blinked. And Jane returned to her notebook, oblivious to his shock. His very blatant shock. (Confusion? Concern? Words were failing him.) The sentence that came to him was rash, and the second he said it, he wished he'd sat on it a moment longer. "I can't imagine what you've been through."

Her head popped up. "Oh I was fine. I liked Kar'Shan. Did you know they have leaves the size of boats?" She leaned forward on both elbows, smiling. "Balya and I would fill them with crap from the ground, float them onto the river, and set them on fire. It was awesome. There was also lots of music. Lots and lots of music. Whenever we weren't outside, we played day and night. Ya know, because we couldn't really talk about things since it's the Hegemony and… Oh, right, you don't know who that is. Or did I tell you? I don't remember." She glanced up at him, barely a second passed before she continued. "I um… I.. well, right after everything...bad… you know on Mindoir… I was at a boarding school with Balya. She was my best friend. We took music and biotic lessons together. She also did anatomy, medicine, and religion stuff. I helped with her homework, but y'know, human," she motioned to herself with a wrinkled look of disgust, "so I didn't get to go to classes. Although, I did have to go to chapel. Igothan this. Okanna that." This was animated with an eye-roll and elongated vowels. "Anyhow, after school… ended…" Her eyes dropped to her notebook, where she began sketching furiously. "I was an entertainer. A violinist. It was all very glamorous. Then I was in the jungle. And then Garrus found me. So I was okay."

Spend ten minutes in her circle of trust, and you'll see what I mean. God damn, did Tali hit the nail on the head. What was this? She liked Kar'Shan? Was she trying to allay his fears? Or did she really believe that? The way she spoke, again with that deep undercurrent of happiness, suggested the latter. He was bewildered.

What he didn't know was that he was observing what saved Jane, (the creativity, the ability to escape reality, to truly separate body and mind), and, on the other hand, what plagued her, (not what she said, but how she said it.)

Jane possessed an innate ability to sense what people have inside them, what they believed her to be. In this hyper-aware state, she could mold herself into whatever they wanted to see – a side effect of growing up among dangerous people, who could end her life on a whim. She learned to not only mimic what they wanted, but to become what they wanted. It wasn't a conscious behavior, something she had control over. It simply happened.

He had no idea this was happening inside her. When he looked at her, he saw his nine year old sister, and sensing that, she emulated nine year old Jane. Not in what she said or did – her odd way of relating to people would remain, as would her vivacious capacity to pull people into her worlds – but in the lilt of her voice, her mannerisms, all of this was altered around him; the echoes of a person before she had put on so many masks that none were a mask anymore, they were all her, and yet they were not.

At the time, however, he knew none of this. So, when she finished her spiel, he found himself gripped with fear. He thought, the body of a beautiful woman, the mind of a child, and grew even more protective.