Nais - (pronounced nah-ees) Asari above the age of majority (75 cycles)
Trigger Warning: Although I don't mention any details, this chapter deals with Shepard's experience on Mindoir, so warning for implied rape and torture in the section after the first ... to the second ... The rest of the chapter is trigger free.
36 Days ASR
Logic and reason became harder and harder for them to keep hold of as Jane sensed the years passing, drawing them closer to the event the machine wouldn't just flag, but devour like a shark in a feeding frenzy. No! The denial came from them both. Whoever hid behind the tar-black spiders and the orbs had tortured her with those hours and years more than enough. They tried to withdraw, to take refuge from it, but the machine left no place to hide … no solace in any of her usual retreats. Odd how people always called flesh weak when it provided so much cushion, so much strength.
And yet, he surrounded and intertwined with her, providing a thin barrier to keep the pain at bay. Thin, yes, but perhaps thick enough that she could face it … just one more time.
If ever there was a time for a guardian angel, it's now.
...
The darkness shrouded Nihlus, disguising his constant presence. A chill breeze blew through the open window, but just as the rain didn't touch Shepard in his memories, the cold didn't penetrate. He sat in the corner of Jane's room, his arms wrapped around his legs, head back, eyes closed. Pulling in a deep breath, he savoured the sweet scents of spring and the soft sounds of the young woman settling to sleep a couple of metres away.
Where he'd grown up surrounded by mud and rock and soot, she'd grown up amidst forest and grass and the meadow flowers that she wore woven through the fierce red of her hair. Feeling no envy or bitterness, he simply revelled in the wildness of her … and sympathized a little with her mother. For all her bluster, the woman shone love from every pore, and Jane truly had been born to test the patience of everyone who loved her.
Unlike Shepard's broken oath to remain distant, Nihlus had insinuated himself into her memories practically from the moment she'd entered the world, screaming and purple, her head already covered with a renegade shock of bright red. He cherished every moment as a gift, a chance to be a part—albeit an invisible one—of a loving, beautiful family.
The sound of bare feet padding over the hardwood pulled him from his thoughts. He grinned as they hesitated for a moment at the threshold of Jane's room. He suspected that Bunny had been the universe's attempt to give Jane a mild dose of her own medicine.
"Janey?" When the child didn't get an answer, the footsteps continued across the metre of floor, stopping at the edge of the bed. "Janey?"
Moonlight glinted in one half-open eye, then Jane sighed. "Your dolls aren't staring at you, Bunny, and I'm not going into your room to check. Those things freak the crap out of me, you know they do." Nihlus's smile widened as Jane glared at the adorably earnest face staring at her from less than a hand's width away. The teenager grumbled, finally giving in to lean up and face her sister. "Maybe, if you didn't rescue every creepy, broken doll in the known universe to nurse it back to health, you wouldn't have this problem."
"I was asleep, honest," the child insisted. "But there's a monster in the house. I saw it downstairs. It has four eyes."
Nihlus sucked in a quick breath, the air razor sharp, slicing its way down. Damn. Batarians. So soon? His heart dropped as he ran the math, and it threw his denial back in his face. Jane was just about to turn sixteen. He stepped forward out of the shadows. Despite knowing it was a memory and unchangeable, there had to be something he could do. Or maybe … maybe he should just … .
Damn it, knowing that she'd suffered it was bad enough. To watch her go through it … .
No! Even if it was memory and he couldn't change what happened, this time she wouldn't suffer through it alone. He could endure it for her.
"There's no such thing as—" A crash from the main floor stopped Jane's protest. She sat up, covers clutched to her chest, and called out, "Mom? Dad?" The words drifted pale and helpless into the darkness, the brash teen returning to childhood from one breath to the next.
A shriek of mingled pain and rage—Lucy—ripped through the darkness. Jane let out an answering cry, fragile and helpless. She threw back her covers and scrambled off the bed, snatching Bunny's hand in a grip so tight, her knuckles shone white in the moonlight.
For a moment, they stood frozen, terrified into place as they watched the door. Despite his gut knowing better, Nihlus found himself watching, hoping that Franklin would appear at the top of the stairs with some sort of rational, non-batarian slaver explanation.
Then Jane whirled around to face him. "Nihlus, what do I do?" she asked, looking to him with the same trust and love as she always had.
He took a quick, deep breath and nodded. All right. He'd promised to protect her, and while he might not be able to save her, he could fucking well try. "You need to run!" he said, keeping his voice strong and commanding, its subvocals warm.
"Janey?" Bunny squealed, so shrill and loud that the intruders below couldn't help but hear it. They needed to get out! The squeal upgraded to a scream. ""Where's Daddy? I want Mommy!"
"They'll know you're here." Nihlus ran to the window, but his hands passed through the screen. A rough growl of frustration rolling from his throat, he spun back, waving her over. "You'll have to do it. Come! Quickly! Your parents are buying you time to get out!"
Instead of moving toward him, Jane stopped, turning to face the thunder of running feet on the stairs. Nihlus leaped to grab her hand and drag her to the window, but then her father raced down the hall and in the door. Both Jane and Bunny let out soft bleats of relief that wrapped a sorrowful garotte around Nihlus's throat. If only Franklin possessed the power to protect them the way they believed. If only hell wasn't roaring up the stairs behind him, just two heartbeats away.
"Daddy?" Jane's bare foot slid forward a single step, all her usual vivacious energy folding into wide-eyed docility.
Her father slammed the bedroom door and locked it. "Get to the window," he shouted, his voice hitting a hard enough blow that she stumbled away from it. Franklin grabbed the chair from under Jane's desk and jammed it under the doorknob. It would buy them only seconds, but … maybe … . He jerked his head toward the window. "Hurry!"
Finally doing as she was told, Jane ran over and yanked the screen out. Nihlus steadied her as she lifted Bunny through onto the roof, then gripped her elbow to help lift her out. Pounding fists rattled the door on it's hinges.
Her father's hand grabbed her other arm, and between them they practically threw Jane through the portal onto the shingles. Nihlus clambered through on her heels, taking advantage of being able to just walk through everything but Jane.
Behind him, Franklin whispered, "Run to the woods. Head for the big rock across the creek. Hide. We'll come for you when we can." Nihlus heard the door start to give. "Move fast and keep to the shadows," their father called over his shoulder. "We'll come for you."
Jane hesitated, looking on the verge of turning back. "Dad? Daddy . . . why . . . what's going on?" Nihlus grabbed her hand, pulling her the other way. Why wouldn't she just do as she was told?
Inside the room, the door gave way with a crash. "Run!" her father bellowed, the single word lost as Bunny began screaming. Nihlus didn't wait to see what happened inside. Jane could figure things out as he dragged her across the settlement. He allowed her to pause long enough to snag Bunny's hand, then they both hauled the wailing child to the eaves.
"Run and don't—" A muffled crunching sound accompanied a thick, wet scream ... a broken sound Nihlus knew all too well. Franklin's fight was behind him until he regained consciousness, maybe not even then, depending on the severity of his broken jaw. Behind him, Jane vomited down the front of her pyjamas, but Nihlus didn't let her stop. She'd face a lot worse if he didn't get them out of there.
It took about ten seconds for one of the batarians to climb out the window. Nihlus didn't look back, but the struggle and cursing told the tale of large male trying to squeeze through small space. Jane yelped, the sound as furious as it was startled, and when Nihlus looked back, she'd latched her teeth into the batarian's hand. Blood stained her nightshirt where the slaver had grabbed her, sharp talons piercing her skin, but a hell of a lot more blood poured down her chin.
"Let him go, Jane" Nihlus snapped, proud that her fight had kicked in, but losing patience with the endless stream of delays. It hadn't been more than four or five minutes since Bunny said there were monsters, but it felt like a half hour had dragged past. "The two of us can't fight every slaver on Mindoir."
The command in his voice snapped her back, and she nodded, running the last few steps to the edge of the roof. Across the street, a woman raced out her front door, screaming bloody hell while three batarians tore the nightdress off her back and dragged her into the dark.
Nihlus shoved aside the ten different emotions threatening to rip him into varren bait and dropped face down onto the shingles. "I'll lower you," he called, waving Jane over. The batarian was still holding his nearly severed thumb and howling, but he wouldn't be for long.
The teenager gulped a couple of times and spat a huge gob of blood out onto the slate as she crouched, dropping her legs over the side before rolling over and grabbing his hands. Below and behind her, gunfire pounded out a brutal beat that kept people marching down the street, their heads bowed, cowed and passive before their captors.
Jane left her hands raised when her feet touched down. "Come on, Bunny. Jump. I'll catch you."
"Come on, little one, you can do it. That's a girl," Nihlus whispered as Bunny lowered herself, little feet kicking as she wriggled over the edge.
"Good girl, that's the way," Jane called in a hoarse whisper, encouraging her. "Okay, you're only a few centimetres away from my hands, just let go." Nihlus spun when Jane whined a little under her breath, and he heard the slaver working his way down the roof. Damn it. He clenched his fists and placed himself between the slaver and the child despite knowing it was pointless. He was useless.
"Come on, baby, you know I won't let you fall," Jane pleaded.
Bunny let go, landing heavy and awkward. Finally! Nihlus leaped down, landing nimbly next to Jane, his energy taut, alert, and frustrated. He wrapped an arm around her, leading them into the shadows as soon as Bunny's feet touched grass. The moment Jane caught her balance, she took off, racing between houses, as quick and silent as she could manage dragging her baby sister along.
Nihlus sprinted ahead and behind, reporting slaver patrols back then dashing off in another direction. If it came to a fight, he couldn't help … hell, he couldn't even scoop Bunny up and carry her. Being helpless to save them from the horrors coming for them filled him with a panic he'd never experienced. A fear that insisted that he run, spare himself what was to come. Jane had already suffered the reality and lived with the memory since. His avoiding it would change nothing.
Except … he'd never be able to look her in the eye again. He'd never be able to look himself in the eye again. How could he claim to love her if he abandoned her? So he raced back and forth, leading them along the clearest path through the settlement. Once they broke free of the houses, they left the streetlights and screaming behind. The ground was soft and wet along the trail, and the prints of two barefoot girls wouldn't be a challenge to track, but leaving the path would slow them to a—
Bunny stumbled and fell face down in a bawling heap. "Slow down," the child wailed, tiny fists pounding at the mud. "Where's Mommy and Daddy?" Holding up a heavily bleeding hand, she screamed, "Janey, I want Mommy!"
Nihlus paced as Jane bent to lift the child onto her feet. "They'll meet us at the rock." She kissed the cut across the child's palm. "Come on, we're just about to the creek."
Nihlus listened for Jane's breathing as she spoke. Her breaths came quick and deep, but not exhausted; she still had lots of run left in her. They just needed to keep Bunny moving.
"You can do it. Just keep running." Jane and Nihlus spun in unison, her eyes holding his for a second before they both drew in a long breath and dug in.
"Look what we've got here."
Nihlus's heart stopped as a shadow unfolded from the darkness shrouding the path ahead. Damn it! Where had the bastard come from? Nihlus threw himself between slaver and the two girls, cries of impotent rage lashing out alongside equally useless talons.
The large male laughed and lunged at the girls. "Thought you could outrun us, did you?"
Jane flung herself backwards and slipped, dragging Bunny to the ground along with her. Nihlus leaped after them. At least he could grab Jane, but her pyjama sleeves slipped through his talons. For the second time that night, the sickening crunch of breaking bone split the air. Bunny let out a squawk of pain, but just wrapped her arm around her belly and pressed close, seeking shelter in her big sister's side.
Two more batarians ran out onto the path, gasping and wheezing for air. Another one stepped out behind the first, all four of them moving in to circle their prey.
"He's going to take Bunny first," Nihlus said, crouching at Jane's side. His eyes darted, searching for an escape route. "You—" He clamped his teeth shut on the rest as the batarian reached down, lifting the five-year-old by the collar. What advice could he give? Leave Bunny and run? Fight back? What could Jane do against a squad of armed men?
"There's nothing you … ." Again Nihlus stopped himself. Had he really been about to tell her not to fight back, to just submit and maybe spare herself a couple of blows? That was rich fucking advice coming from the Spectre who couldn't do anything but stand by and watch it happen.
The leader looked Bunny over with an appraising eye. "Take this back to the cages for their street. I might keep her for myself" He shoved the five-year-old toward one of his compatriots. Then, cocking his head a little, he leered at Jane. Nihlus's talons twitched, begging to tear those eyes right out of the bastard's face.
Come on, damn it! Think! There has to be something you can do. Anything.
But no. Fuck! Why did he keep forgetting that the horrendous things about to happen had already happened? And an amazing, powerful woman had grown out of them. It had already happened, and she'd pulled through. She'd made it. His vision blurred, and when he reached up to rub his eyes, his talons came away wet. He stared at them for a moment. Tears?
The batarian circled her, a pathetic scavenger sussing out whether its prey still possessed any fight. "Going to take a little time with this one." Sharp-taloned fingers stabbed into the tussled length of Jane's hair and yanked her off the ground. He shoved his face into hers, and gestured to the bastard holding Bunny, the slaver's free hand wrapped in a rag and clutched to his chest. "Like to bite, do you?" He bared his sharp, needle teeth. "Oh yeah, we've caught us a tasty looking piece of young meat here."
The one holding Bunny stepped forward, his expression an almost laughable combination of petulance and anger. "You sure you don't want me to stay, Remit? She looks like a fighter." He stalked Jane in a wide circle, his face twisting into an ugly sort of begging. "And I deserve a little payback." If Nihlus had been holding a gun, he'd have given him some payback … right between the eyes.
Nihlus winced as Remit's laugh rang, deep and vicious, off the thick forest surrounding the muddy trail. Try as he might to believe that it would be over and done quickly, that laugh said otherwise. The batarian spat in Jane's face, his dark stare looking past her. "You just want to stuff yours into whatever's left over. Ha! I guess you could call that payback."
Nihlus leaped forward again, fury roaring through his veins, molten magma that demanded action as the batarian forced Shepard's head back until she had no choice but to look into those soulless eyes. Rough fingers shoved themselves past her lips and into her throat. Nihlus's gorge heaved in empathy, his eyes stinging, salty and bitter. Jane convulsed, choking and gagging, her whole body heaving.
For a moment, she sagged, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, but then Nihlus saw her fight kick in. Her jaw bulged as she clamped down on those fingers, biting down until Remit howled, beating on her head with the hand that still clutched her hair. Slamming her hand down on the slaver's knuckles, Jane broke his hold on her hair and twisted hard to the side. Sweeping out with her leg, she dumped Remit onto his ass then kicked straight out, catching him under the chin with her heel. He yelled, but fell back, stunned.
Nihlus reached out to grab Jane's hand. She spat a huge gob of blood in Remit's face, then launched herself toward Bunny. Nihlus's instincts threw him between Jane and the slaver, shielding her. Before Jane wrestled her baby sister free, Remit's hand punched straight through Nihlus's chest to bury itself in her hair.
Jane flew backwards, slamming into Nihlus's right side and sending him reeling onto one knee. Remit spun her, shaking her hard enough that Nihlus heard her teeth clacking together. As the slaver's open hand crashed into the side of Jane's head, Nihlus knew her brave but doomed rebellion had ended. Despite what the vids showed, hitting people over the back of the head wasn't the best way to disable them. A hard slap to the ear and side of the head worked much better to stun and disorient.
Jane dropped like a stone, puddling on the ground. Then, his heart feeling as though it would burst straight out through his keel, Nihlus saw her clawing at the ground, fighting to stand, her unfocused eyes searching for Bunny. Spirits, she was magnificent. She'd been born braver than any three other people combined, and even as he fought to hold back a keen of sheer, impotent agony, beneath it his subvocals thrummed with awe at the beauty and fury of her.
"Look, meat," Remit said, his rolling growl pulling Nihlus's attention back to him, "if you fight me, I'll tie you to that tree over there and make you watch as I do every single twisted, agonizing thing I plan to do to you, 'cept on that little one over there." He yanked her onto her feet, his bleeding and torn fingers digging into her jaw as he forced her to look over at Bunny.
He snapped her head back around and leaned in, close but not too close. His wariness of her teeth pulled a fierce grin onto Nihlus's face. Damn right he should be worried. Unfortunately, frightened cowards just became more vicious.
Remit sneered. "So, what's it going to be? You going to pucker up and bend over like a good little whore, or do I tear your baby … sister? niece? cousin? to shreds?"
Nihlus winced as Jane spat blood into the slaver's face. If she got the batarian any more angry, she'd end up dead. But then she turned looked over her shoulder at Bunny, and her head tipped once. As her entire body slumped, defeated, Nihlus stepped up behind her, talons reaching out to grip her shoulder, needing to let her know that she'd make it through.
The next second, she doubled up, spewing blood and stink over Remit's boots. Nihlus rubbed her back as she retched and retched, her gut determined to turn her inside out. Finally, she stilled under his hand.
Gasping, she called out, "Look away, Bunny. Don't watch."
"Who knows … " Remit said. The batarian wrapped his fingers around Jane's neck and laughed. The sound pierced Nihlus's hide, saturating his entire being with poison, black and corrosive. The slaver snapped his teeth. "... you might just like it." He sniffed then made a face. "This meat stinks like it's six days dead." He spun, dragging Jane further into the forest. When he reached the steep bank of the creek, he tore her pyjamas off and heaved her down into the frozen, mucky water. "Wash the stink off, whore."
Panic threw Nihlus down the steep bank after her; time was fast running out. Sliding down the last of it on his hip, he landed feet first in the frigid water and crouched next to her. "They won't hurt Bunny," he said. "She's too valuable. Run. You know this forest, you could lose them in seconds … disappear."
Above, the batarians threw handfuls of filth at her, jeering like teenage bullies.
Ignoring them, Jane shook her head, wincing as globs of mud slapped against her skin. "I can't chance it. She's five. If they rape her … ." Jane swallowed and shook her head, scooping the icy water over her skin, scrubbing off the sick and the blood. "I promised Daddy that I'd look after her." She splashed more water down her front, scrubbing off the blood and vomit. "I'll be okay. They can't touch me, not really, not if I don't let them."
Nihlus nodded. He'd known she wouldn't run. He scraped the mud from her back. "I can't do anything." Half a keen escaped before he swallowed it. "I want to, Jane. Dear spirits, I want to rip out their throats, but … ."
She nodded and turned to meet his eyes. "I know." She pressed her lips together, sucking a deep breath in through her nose. "You've always been my guardian angel." Reaching out, she gripped his talons. "Thank you for trying."
"What can I do?" he blurted. "There must be something." He lifted her hand to his mouth and nuzzled the backs of her fingers. "I can't just stand there."
She took another deep, noisy breath, then squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw, pulling herself together even as his resolve began to crumble. "Hold my hand. Don't look, but hold my hand and don't let go, no matter what." Her eyes looked past him to the gang of slavers standing along the top of the bank. "I'll be okay. My parents didn't raise a porcelain doll; they raised a fighter."
Nihlus nodded and pressed his hand against her cheek. "I know you'll be fine. You're the bravest, toughest pain in the ass I've ever met."
That drew a startled chuckle that died the second it hit the air.
"Don't make me come down there, meat!" Remit hollered. "You don't want me to get bored up here with the little one."
"I won't let go," Nihlus promised, packing down all the explosives threatening to blow him apart. Damn it, for her sake, he could hold himself together half as bravely as she did. Still, when she stood and he felt her shaking through their joined hands, his other hand slapped his thigh, looking for a flask that wasn't there.
They clambered up the bank, hand in hand, neither one loosening their grip. When Remit grabbed Jane, dragging her away from the bank, Nihlus ran to keep up. No matter what, he wouldn't let go. When they stopped, he turned his back. As much as the batarians would take from her, he could leave her that last shred of dignity.
"And talk to me," she whispered, her hand yanking against his. Her voice tightened down to a shrill sort of pant. "Your voice … it's always made me feel safe."
Nihlus's brain went suddenly and completely blank. What in the pits of buratrum could he talk about? Nice weather we're having? Are you ready for next week's calculus exam? That stew your mother made last night sure smelled rank. What was that girl's problem at school on Thursday?
His eyes slammed closed as a harsh cry shredded its way from her lips. Her hand clamped down, grinding the bones in his talons together.
"Going to … make me do all the work?" she gasped. Another ten seconds of his brain spitting nonsense passed before she said, "Okay, storyteller … got any good stories?"
Realization dawned, bright and clear. What he said didn't matter. His function was to be a lifeline, an anchor to her sanity. Keeping his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and started talking. After all, he was her guardian angel.
"A guardian angel … that's close to what my people believe in, but our spirits are more representative of qualities and ideals. They don't intercede in our lives, they just watch on, I suppose." He let out a bitter chuff. "My father used to tell me stories, fanciful things passed down from when turians hunted and lived in clans, and they believed in great spirits that governed everything from the seasons to the weather and animals … even war and love had their spirit champions."
Her hand yanked from his grip, and he spun, gripping her wrist with his other hand as he fought to keep hold of her. Opening his eyes for a second, he saw her lying face down in the mud, blood covering her face. He crouched, gathering both of her hands in his. Jane showed no response, her eyes dazed and staring. He took her pulse, a rough sigh of relief greeting the strong thump against his talons.
Another batarian reached down. Nihlus slammed his eyes shut and held onto both of her hands. "My favourite … ." The story of the praela known as Raeil spilled out of him, taking him away from the mud and blood and the stink. He prayed to Jane's God that she journeyed with him, leaving her body behind in favour of wandering a realm where mortals could win the favour of the gods and the love of a magical being.
Finally, what seemed like hours later, when Remit threw Jane's battered body over his shoulder to carry her back to the settlement, Nihlus let out a long, tremulous keen of relief. Of course, it wasn't over, not by a long measure. He steeled himself. Still clasping her slack, frozen fingers in his, he reached up with his other hand to caress her cheek, deftly wiping away the tear-streaked blood. She opened her eyes, meeting his anguished stare with a shocky, distant one.
"You didn't let go," she whispered.
Nihlus tried to answer her, but every time he opened his mouth to speak, a gut-deep scream tried to bully its way out, to drench her in horror and pain so deep he felt as if it would drown them both. He swallowed it and clamped his jaw tight. She needed her anchor, her guardian angel.
"Of course I didn't. What sort of guardian angel would I be if I let you go?" He gave her a shaky smile and caressed her cheek again. "I won't leave. No matter what."
And he didn't. When they staked her out in the middle of the gravel road, he stretched out with her, both of her hands grasped in his, his face pressed against the hood they put over her head. When they hurt her, he told her every tale he could think of. In the few moments they allowed her to rest, he simply stroked her wrist or the back of her hand. At first he thought it might just be a comfort to him, while she would prefer to be left well enough alone. However, when he stopped, she murmured, growing restless even while unconscious, stilling only once he resumed his caresses.
At the end of the twenty-seven hours, she'd faded into the small kindness of unconsciousness. Without letting go of her hand, he dragged himself up to sit by her side. One knee drawn up, his free arm wrapped around it, Nihlus dropped his head until his brow impacted his patella.
It was over. Praise the spirits, thank God or the sweet baby Jesus or the fucking Enkindlers … whichever … it was over. Harsh, ugly sobs tore from his throat, tears and snot and short, moaning keens pouring out of him in an unchecked deluge. Twenty-seven hours of being completely helpless to save one of the only people he'd ever truly loved ... flayed to the bone didn't even begin to cover it. All that remained was bone and a tangle of raw nerve endings bleeding into a puddle of guts.
And yet, she'd endured so much more … his beautiful, brave Jane. He checked her pulse as he'd done compulsively every time she went still … every time she lost consciousness.
Sometimes he remembered that she survived that day to grow into the amazing, fierce woman who had saved Elysium from meeting Mindoir's fate.
Most of the time he checked her pulse.
…
"Hypothesis confirmed. Writing secondary protocols. Allowing for multiple data streams. Preparing to save to multiple files. Opening multiple feeds."
As the tide of memory drew back, a shift resonated through the computer as its brain opened itself to new parameters. Fabricated synapses fired, adapting to compensate for two subjects. Somewhere—no doubt far from Thessia—the mind behind the experiments … the reason the facility remained up to date and maintained … changed the experiment, its hypothesis confirmed.
Nihlus's presence, his suffering through her memories of Mindoir, had changed everything.
"Adjusting primary input parameters. Dual input allowance verified. Potential to harvest significant data due to interaction, sixty-three point eight percent."
They shuddered at the word harvest, their mind spitting out images of Reapers cutting swaths through their brains with a scythe. Still, the computer seeing value in Nihlus's empathy and suffering gave them another clue. Being interested in emotion made sense if the Reapers' question had something to do with what made organic life tick. Empathy, remorse, guilt … none of them were anything that they'd seen demonstrated, even by Legion.
Logical processes dictated taking action and getting a result. If the result was not the one intended, then move on to another action and another result. Even the geth, for all their benevolent intent, did not regret the deaths of the quarians. They had not desired them either, but the fact remained. The death of their creators was an unfortunate outcome of reasoned, logical action.
Still, nothing that they'd seen from Sovereign suggested that the Reapers wanted to feel regret or remorse. She doubted their question was, "Why don't we feel bad about wiping out billions of organics?"
It went so much deeper than that. It had to. Hundreds of thousands of years and trillions of lives spent searching for an answer necessitated it being a vast and important question … something to shake foundations and remake galaxies.
Didn't it?
...
Trying to look nonchalant as she searched the crowd, Shepard threw a vague smile and nod at the asari diplomat. Sweet baby Jesus, how long could anyone talk about trade agreements for prefab staircases? Second by second, resisting the urge to grab the nais and shake her until gumballs fell out grew more difficult. Restrained only by the knowledge that Udina would break her nose again if she caused a diplomatic incident at his big coming out party, Shepard resisted. Barely.
She shifted a little, wriggling inside her very beautiful, very uncomfortable dress. Just after three, her hotel doorman had called to let her know that she had a party on the way up. Unlike the more interesting sorts of parties, that one consisted of wardrobe, hair, and makeup. Three hours later, they'd plastered a face over her real one, she couldn't breathe or walk, going to the bathroom seemed a dubious, multiperson exercise, and her hair … well, actually, her hair looked fantastic.
Her heart gave an altogether too school-girlish flutter as she spotted him halfway across the hall. Not that doing so had proven all that difficult once Councillor Sparatus arrived. The bodyguard who preceded the turian councillor in the door threw off tidal waves of disgust and disdain that could scuttle a dreadnought and very effectively cut a swath through the crowd. At one point, she'd seen Sparatus tell the Spectre to back off, no doubt because everyone was too terrified to approach.
The wide clearing around the turian councillor had made it easy to keep track of the reason she'd let Udina talk her into attending his schmooze-fest. Unlike his compatriot, Council Spectre Nihlus Kryik simply stood back, a grin of what Shepard figured was sarcastic amusement on his face.
She did her best not to stare, but she couldn't help it. Something had happened about a year before when she saw him on the news: he'd just brought down a small time slaving operation, but the scumbag slaver had blown the place, killing all his slaves but for one child. Of course, Kryik killed the bastard, but when the Spectre walked out of the flames and smoke holding that little girl, she could see in his eyes that his victory felt like anything but. She knew how that felt.
Shepard realized that she'd been staring about the same time she realized that the Spectre was looking right back, and then someone sucked all the air out of the banquet hall. Blessed Enkindlers, had her dress gotten a lot tighter all of a sudden? She reached out a hand to steady herself against a planter. Yeah, it had to be the dress. Damn dress. Who wore corsets in the twenty second century?
"Are you all right, dear?" The asari slid a hand up Shepard's arm far too personally.
Shepard drew back as her skin slithered under the unwanted touch. Damn, she hated crowds ... anything public really. Far too many people liked to touch. Except salarians. They seemed to abhor being touched as much as she did. Forcing a polite smile onto her face, she replied, "Fine, thank you. I think my wardrobe person just pulled my stays a little too tight. Excuse me, please." Pretending not to see the glare that Udina shot at her, she turned and headed for the bar.
Udina reached out and snagged her wrist in his hand. "Don't get drunk. You're representing humanity here tonight, Jane."
She tried to snatch her arm back, but he held on. "I don't drink, Ambassador." She laid heavy emphasis on the man's brand new title. Glancing down at his hand shackling her arm, she raised her eyebrows. "Do you want to start a brawl right here, right now? I've got my Ka-BarTM, I can slit the ties on this corset-from-hell and be on you like a rabid tick in under ten seconds."
Udina's answering sigh came out more like a growl, but he released her.
"Thank you, Ambassador." She moved to step past him, then paused. "And the name is Shepard." As she walked away, she glanced over her right shoulder at the august figure of the Spectre. Just before she looked away, he turned and caught her gaze. "Damn, damn, damn." Spinning back toward her destination, she winced at the heat rising up her mostly uncovered chest and neck.
"Button it down, Shepard," she muttered to herself. "You're not fourteen and giggling about the cute boy in class." Smiling and nodding, she made her way through the massive crowd of complete strangers. She wished Anderson had been able to be her plus one, but no, he had to chase bad guys in the traverse. Right then, she'd give just about anything to be out there with him. Pirates raiding colonies were her wheelhouse, not too-tight dresses and polite bullshit traded with strangers.
She pressed between an asari loading up a massive tray of alcohol and a sallow faced salarian who looked three sheets to the wind. "Orange soda, please?"
Someone stepped in next to her when the asari left. "Turian brandy, double, neat, please. No, wait, make that two."
Looking up, Shepard felt all the air abandon her again and snapped her eyes back to her drink. After thirty seconds, as the Spectre shifted to lean a hip against the bar, Shepard let out a soft growl. The perfect opportunity couldn't knock much harder without giving her a concussion, and she just stood there like a moron.
You are such a coward, Janey. I thought you came to this stupid party to meet him. Now he's standing right beside you and you're hiding. Woman up. Gird your loins, and talk to him!
Right. Plastering on her best diplomatic smile, she turned and looked up. "Hello. Spectre Nihlus Kryik, right?" She held out her hand. When the turian just nodded, Shepard gave him what felt like a hugely dopey grin and said, "Lt. Commander Jane Shepard, pleased to meet you." She waited a second for him to grasp her wrist, then shrugged and let it drop.
Nodding over at the Spectre glowering behind Sparatus, she tried again, saying, "I'm glad to see the council spending the galaxy's credits so well."
"P-politicians," the Spectre replied, his shoulders popping in a small shrug. He stared for another second, then looked away as the bartender placed the drinks in front of him.
"Shepard!"
She turned toward the call, an embarrassed wince greeting Udina's beckoning hand flick. Well, at least he called her Shepard. She was surprised he didn't snap his fingers and point to his heel. Walkies! Heel. Now sit. Good girl. That's right, whoosa good girl. Shepard's a good girl. Yes, she is. Yes, she is.
She glanced up, not wanting to see the same, disdainful sort of amusement in his eyes for her as she said, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Spectre Kryik. Enjoy the rest of the party." Disappointment reached down and pulled a sigh from deep in her gut. Damn, she'd been looking forward to coaxing more than a word out of the Spectre, having a drink, maybe even asking him to dance. Giving him a thin-lipped smile, she turned to walk away. Of course, she would develop the galaxy's most ridiculous crush on the galaxy's least talkative Spectre.
Then again, it might not have been awkwardness holding his tongue. He might not care for humans. Maybe he'd been focusing on not letting her see how grossed out she made him. That wasn't his reputation, but of course, reputations were mostly bullshit. Hers being a case in point.
She groaned when she saw Udina talking to Din Korlak. That volus spent every conversation begging to be the first de-suited volus drop kicked into orbit. Oh ... to hell with Udina, she'd spent two hours kissing every ass he pointed to. Time to cut her losses and get out of the silk torture device. Maybe she'd even take her heels off and walk back to her hotel, enjoy the presidium a little. She checked her chrono. It was only eight, she could visit Martin, take the kid out for dessert or something.
But not before loosening the corset, right ... Janey?
Hell no. The corset was a goner as soon as she found a bathroom.
"Lt. Commander?" Talons brushed her shoulder, yanking her out of her self-pity with a start.
She spun. "Spectre Kryik." A nervous smile crept across her face as her skin flushed hot. "Hello again."
"Hello." He cleared his throat. "And, please, call me Nihlus." His mandibles fluttered, spreading ever so slightly: a pleased smile if she remembered her xenopology courses correctly. "Would you like to … ." He cleared his throat and shuffled from foot to foot a little as if uncertain whether to stay or return to Sparatus. "I mean, I have to take the councillor his drink, but then … um … would you care to dance?"
Her nervous smile spread, claiming her entire mouth as its territory. Thank god her ensemble d' torture included platform heels. She'd yet to find a way to dance face to chest with someone without looking like an idiot. After a couple more heartbeats of smiling at him like a mindless doorknob, she nodded, a slightly spastic jerk of her head.
"I'd like that," she managed to squeak. A couple more seconds of staring at one another passed before she nodded to the glass in his hand. "I'll be here."
Heart pounding, dress squeezing her diaphragm hard enough to make her dizzy, Shepard watched him cross the hall and pass Sparatus his drink. They spoke a few words, then the other Spectre looked as though someone had shoved a stick of dynamite up his ass and lit the fuse, and Sparatus started making decidedly negative head gestures. Her grin widened as Nihlus gave the turian councillor a sharp nod and turned back toward her.
"Well, how about that?" she whispered, suddenly aware that she was staring again, this time with a massively stupid grin on her face.
Nihlus returned and held an arm out, ushering her toward the dance floor. Shepard walked ahead of him, all of her senses peaked and focused on the torin walking behind her. Her mind and heart raced, adding to the out-of-body experience. She must be insane. What was she thinking having a stupid, schoolgirl crush on a turian Spectre? And not just any turian Spectre, one of the council's top operatives. At the very best, he was just being nice to a pathetic fangirl … one of thousands.
Then he stepped in front of her, one hand slipping around her waist as he held the other out, waiting for her to take it. When she placed her fingers in his, his other hand slipped further around to rest in the small of her back.
After taking two steps, his face lowered into a perplexed scowl. "Are you expecting trouble tonight, Lt. Commander?" he asked, bending down to whisper.
Shepard laughed, her nerves disappearing like mist beneath a rising sun. "Always, Spectre Kryik. Always." Looking up at him, she tilted her head a little. "And I may have to cut my way out of this dress."
His talons traced the shape of the scabbard. "Talon?" He cocked a brow plate.
"Close, the Alliance Marines' version of it. It's a Ka-BarTM." She grinned. "I could pull it out and show you, but I'm not liking the idea of your scary-looking friend over there throwing me to the floor and stomping me to bits."
The Spectre looked thoughtful for a second, then nodded. "Saren would probably just shoot you if he had an open shot."
She watched his face, waiting for any sign that he was joking. None showed themselves. Damn.
He guided her expertly across the floor for a few moments, then bent down. "Have you figured it out yet?" he asked, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered.
Shepard frowned and pulled back a little. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."
"Lt. Commander Shepard!" Udina appeared in her face, his voice hushed, but as sharp as the blade hidden in the small of her back. "I brought you here to sell confidence in the Alliance's colonial affairs, not to hit on turian Spectres."
Shepard opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the turian Spectre did.
"I believe the Lt. Commander is an N3 operative and an officer in the Alliance Navy, not a salesperson," Kryik said, equally hushed and just as sharp. "And to clear things up for you, the turian Spectre is hitting on her. Have a wonderful night, Ambassador."
Udina stuttered for a moment, then turned and walked away.
Shepard let out a shocked laugh. "I can't believe you said that to him." As the shock faded, realization hit and she pulled back a little even as she looked up into Nihlus's eyes. "You know who I am?"
The Spectre smiled and nodded. "I took notice after Elysium."
Shepard winced. Sweet baby Jesus, not Elysium. And things looked so promising.
"I know how a holding action like that can grind you down," he said, his eyes dark and shuttered. "Civilians panicking and dying." He shook his head. "Then they drag you out of that hell and stick you in front of cameras and slap you on the back like you're supposed to forget about all the innocent corpses behind you."
She squeezed the hand gripping hers. Of course he knew the hell that had followed her off of Elysium. He lived it, unlike the crowd of fancy suits and tight hairdos. Wasn't that what had attracted her to him in the first place?
"Yeah, pretty much. Those kids … ." She shook her head and stepped in a touch closer, liking the energy that came off him. It had a fierce sort of heat.
"I heard that you got the Alliance to pay their medical bills and for prosthetics." As he spoke, the music changed, but he just continued dancing, changing the cadence to match the new rhythm.
She frowned. "You spying on me, Spectre Kryik?" Her heart kept skipping beats, and then racing, then slowing down. Taking notice of her for Elysium was one thing, but keeping tabs close enough to know where she'd sent Martin and the others … that was quite another."
He chuckled and shook his head, meeting her eyes with an open gaze. "No, nothing so sinister. You captured my attention … " He bobbed his head a little, looking sheepish. "... and held it."
"Oh." The blush began to burn up from her bodice again. "I … ." Her words disappeared, her mind going completely blank as he eased her a little closer. Who would have thought that the Spectre she'd been crushing on had been crushing on her?
They danced for a couple of hours, staying past when people began to trickle out. Sparatus called him over, no doubt to set a time for his official dressing down, then left. Finally, the Spectre stepped back and held out his arm.
"May I escort you home?" he asked, his mandibles giving a hard, quick flick.
She grinned and, using his arm as balance, slipped off her shoes. "You're not thinking that you're going to get lucky, are you, Spectre Kryik?" She chuckled at his expression of mock horror. "I'm not some Spectre groupie."
He sighed and shook his head. "Most of those come at me using my given name, and I can't seem to convince you to use it, Lt. Commander." Once she had her shoes in hand, he led her toward the exit and the elevator leading down the tower to the presidium.
"Says the torin who has called me Lt. Commander all night." She grinned and let out a long breath. "Sweet baby Jesus … fine. Nihlus." She stepped into the elevator, ignoring the humans giving her strange looks for walking on the arm of a turian. Or … maybe, they were all just jealous.
The presidium had been sent into night cycle, the pristine streets and park areas in a sort of perpetual twilight, and she chuckled. One couldn't have asked for a more peaceful or romantic setting, at least on the Citadel. They walked in silence for nearly a block before he stopped next to one of the huge fountains jetting out of the lake and turned to face her.
"Do you remember how this night actually went?" he asked, taking her hands.
Shepard frowned. "How it actually went?" The question set off a small charge of explosives in her gut, her stomach dropping in a sick, airless swoop. Maybe it was just the dress making her feel so lightheaded and nauseous. Maybe. But no. Recognition burst through the walls separating the different parts of her. She could feel her body, frozen in a pod of the amber chia. She knew she was standing in a memory, but … one that … .
Shaking her head, she tried to back away from Nihlus, but he held tight to her hands, drawing her back in. Her scowl deepened. "This isn't the way that night went." She looked up into his eyes. "You didn't talk to me, and Udina called, and I saw he was with Din Korlak, so I ditched the party and took Martin out for ice cream."
Nihlus nodded, his mandibles sweeping in and out ever so slightly. "Yes, and I went back to stand behind Sparatus for another two hours, kicking myself the whole time for not being brave enough to go after you." Stepping into her, he lifted a hand to cradle her jaw. "Whatever the computer's operator did, it allowed us to change the memory. We're in the same memory together. Us, not some remembered image of us." Smiling he bent to touch his brow to hers.
"But why?" She closed her eyes, her mind racing, trying to solve the damned riddle of the machine, and why Nihlus would change the past.
...
"Primary data recorded. Filtering and routing data to appropriate files. File: Regret. File: Frustration. File: Amusement. File: Anger. File: Joy. File: Exhilaration. Secondary data recorded. File: Gratification. File: Embarrassment. File: Fear. File: Sexual attraction. Filter appropriately. Send data directly to primary mainframe."
…
Nihlus finished drinking from her offered water bottle, nodded, and grunted a pissy sort of thank you at her as he passed it back. She placed it on top of the pile of mats and turned to face him. He wasn't finished yet, she could see that plain as day. The Spectre took a breath. "I have no idea what to think, Shepard. All you do is run that damned mouth too fast for me to know what's real."
Shepard rolled onto the balls of her feet, putting up her guard as he stepped back in, throwing hard, fast blows. Try as she might to keep up, he pressed her on her weak side enough to throw her off. Trying for distraction, she quipped, "You got something better for me to do with my mouth?"
He laughed and leaped into the opening. "Is this your turn to double dog dare me into having sex with you, Shepard?" Grabbing her right arm he tossed her over his hip, flipping her onto her ass. He dropped to one knee, his elbows on either side of her chest, keel pressed into her ribs. "I think you should stop in and see Dr. Chakwas before we leave the ship. That shoulder and knee are still giving you trouble."
Shepard leaned up as far as she could, wedging her elbows underneath her. "What are you doing, Nihlus?" A tight lipped smile pulled her mouth taut as she stared into his eyes. "This isn't the way this happened."
He nodded and lifted his weight off her chest. Sitting with one leg raised, he rested his elbow on his knee. His other leg sat alongside her thigh, the contact almost electric, like static building up as she reached out to touch something.
A long sigh marched out, his subvocals strong enough to lift the hair on the back of her neck. "I had a chance that day to be kind … to be the torin I always hoped I'd be when we finally had a chance to know one another. You'd spent days taking care of me, keeping me from imploding, and I let jealousy win. I was unconscionably cruel to you, Jane, and I hate that I said those things." He helped her sit up, his hands resting heavily on her shoulders. "If this machine is going to turn us into paste like the processing plants in Merol's memories … what does it hurt to make up these moments … to both of us?"
Shepard reached up and slid her hand around the back of his neck. "Because we don't need to make this up, Nihlus. No matter if it took us a little longer to get to where we are now, we're here, and we both grew up a little along the way." Her thin smile broadened as it warmed. "And … because of this moment, Garrus came into my room and doctored my hands after Therum, and sewed the most beautiful seed in my heart. I can't regret that, and I wouldn't change it for anything."
Smiling, she leaned in and touched her brow to his, her love for him wrapping around them both. "Life is too short for regret, Nihlus. We're good, aren't we? Finally working on being friends and partners?" Closing her eyes, she relaxed into him. "If we'd started something this day, it would have blown up in our faces the moment you wanted to get intimate. Yes, I was crushing on you, but I wasn't ready for anything reciprocated." She kissed his brow, then pulled away. "It worked out for the best."
He nodded, but despite the machine loosening its hold on them, she could still feel everything he felt ... how much he hoped for their relationship: forever and family.
...
"Primary data recorded. Filtering and routing data to appropriate files. File: Regret. File: Longing. File: Guilt. File: Shame. File: Jealousy. File: Sexual Attraction. File: Sorrow. File: Outrage. Secondary data recorded. File: Gratitude. File: Humiliation. File: Love. File: Grace. File: Compassion. File: Hope. File: Acceptance. Unable to filter appropriately. Compressing data stream to compensate. Unable to send full data directly to primary mainframe. Buffering. Buffering. Compressing stream to compensate."
(A-N: The moral of the story is … never let these two near tech at the same time. Ever. Thanks as always to those who read and those who check in to say howdy. Writers are a strange bunch, generally. There are exceptions of course, but mostly we are an easily discouraged bunch, myself in particular. Soooo hearing from people really does help keep me going. And I luv yah for it. ALL the hugs, even if you're all NOOOOOO! Not the hugs! See yah Monday.)