The Citadel greeted them with the usual buzz and Jo, for once, was happy about a few errands she had to run. It felt so good to get off the ship, stretch her legs and see something other than the old, familiar bulkheads... The rest of the crew felt the same way. Most of them abandoned the ship the moment the airlock opened, leaving her to EDI and a crew of the Citadel's finest technicians.
On her way through the refugee area Jo noticed Vega getting a tattoo on his back from a batarian tattooist, of all people. She was a little surprised that he was shirtless and not a single one of his fangirls were around. They would all be biting their elbows if they knew what they'd missed.
"You know, that's gonna sting for a while," she teased, stopping in front of him. "You gonna be ready for the battle?"
"Always," he nodded. "Hey, maybe we should get matching. You know, you could get my name done. Somewhere... special?" He winked at her.
Jo's throat refused to work. No, it was nothing new that James Vega was flirting. It would have been a shock if he were shirtless and weren't flirting. She was used to that, even though she considered it bad form and a conduct beneath a commanding officer's honour. She was convinced that a man who flirted with every single female under his command and insisted he didn't mean it was absolutely incapable of good leadership. Well, same went about switched genders as well.
And not just that - Vega knew better than anyone how not available Jo was, how taken, and how unsusceptible she was to flirting from anyone but her man. Why was he being like that? And his remarks lately were crossing the line of propriety more and more often - not only to Campbell or Westmoreland, but also to her.
She had no wish to spend her energy addressing this issue right now, but one day he would have to learn a hard lesson about his flirting. She left him without another word. Now that her chores were done, she was curious about this apartment Anderson wanted her to take off his hands.
When she walked into the place, her first thought was entirely out of character, and yet filled her with infinite sadness: The place is modern and fashionable and clean, but you can't raise children in here.
There was a grand piano there, though not a real one, not like the ancient masterpiece on one of the Alliance bases she'd been stationed on eleven years ago. This one could play itself. The fire, though, was real. Strewn all around were datapads with what seemed like Anderson's notes on his biography. She listened to them all, wondering where it had all gone wrong. When did the man who had admired her, helped her career and cherished her like his own child become a backstabbing traitor?
The audio interview with Khalisah made her smile. The official 30th anniversary of the IC Academy was last year. The real anniversary of the training program itself counted a lot more years, but it was better nobody knew about that. She almost laughed at how Anderson described his training. Back then the plan was different than now, of course, but Anderson also deliberately emphasised the physical brutality to distract the journalist from asking about other aspects of the training. Ns were Special Forces, which meant a lot more than good fighting skills, this had always been true about the ICA.
She also chuckled at how carefully Anderson addressed the question about spirit of law above the word of law. His biography would be highly heroic, highly motivating, and so completely doctored that she wouldn't waste her time reading that propaganda. The man seemed to think he had no other choice but to be politically correct. Jo hardly ever busied herself with politics. She could answer the question without thinking: spirit of law. That had always been her guideline, and her accomplishments over Anderson's spoke for her choice.
She gathered all the datapads and tossed them into garbage.
There was a message from Joker on the computer. Her gave her the address of some famous sushi place (couldn't be that famous, since Jo had never heard of it), and added "Dress up!" at the end. Jo smiled. Dressing up for him was the only way for her to comfortably wear dresses at all. Her N7 dress was still on the Normandy, but there was a whole shopping strip all around the apartment building, so she just went out to buy a new dress before meeting her man.
When she stopped in front of him at the restaurant, his jaw slacked and he forgot all rules of good behaviour. Well, she didn't blame him. No woman looked bad in red silk. He was still gawking when she sat down and brushed her free-falling hair over her shoulder.
"Ahem. Looking nice," he finally commented. "This place is serious, though. Like, French guy at the door serious."
"Yeah, what's up with that?" Jo gave him a blinding smile. "I thought sushi is a Japanese dish, so what's with the fake Frenchman?"
"Must be working out well for them," he shrugged. "Have you seen the line outside? Only had to save the galaxy twice to get in here, but here I am, best pilot in the universe and a rock star!"
"Yes, you are. Why aren't you on the Normandy?"
"It's hard to have a bunch of strangers poking around in my ship!" He sounded defensive and Jo laughed:
"They booted you out for micromanaging, didn't they?"
"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I just don't want anyone touching her but me. Uhm, that sounded a little weird."
"Not from you. Say, Jeff, isn't this the wrong restaurant?" She finally asked what had been bothering her.
"How do you mean?"
"Back on my birthday you won that invitation to a restaurant for two during Karin's game, I thought you were cashing it in now, but isn't this the wrong restaurant?"
He sobered up in a second:
"What are you talking about? You invited me here."
"No, I'm here because I got a message from you," she sat up straighter, a cold shiver running down her spine. This was a setup. This was bad, bad, and she was wearing a silk dress.
"Commander Shepard!" A young woman ran towards them across the restaurant. Jo's guts turned upside down as she catalogued the arrival. She sounded like she was... trying too hard. Jo couldn't say what she was trying to do, but she was just trying too hard. Her clumsiness was over the top even for someone with a desk job. She laid her nervousness on way too thick, too. Jo didn't trust her.
"Someone is hacking your account," the girl, Brooks, started talking after taking a deep breath. "Com channels, personal records... They're targeting you, specifically."
Jo relaxed her hands on the table and panned very slowly to Joker. He looked back at her and she saw that he was thinking the exact same thing she was.
Their com channels could be hacked, no problem. But her accounts and personal records were property of the ICA and protected by the ICA Intelligence branch. Joker and EDI both had tried to hack them at one point or another, and both had failed. What Brooks said made absolutely no sense at all.
"Big mistake," Jo said and Joker rubbed his hands:
"Oh, man, there's the angry face!"
Seconds later the shooting started. Jo immediately turned over their table and covered Joker with her own body as they hid behind it.
"Jeff, I need your shoes," she whispered.
"What?"
"I'm wearing high heels, I can't fight in them. Come on, give me your shoes and then you go and find the crew."
"Why don't you go with me and find them yourself?"
"These are civilians," Jo waved her hand at the restaurant guests. "I need to stop these yahoos before someone gets killed."
"So fighting in a dress is okay? You have no shields, no armour, no guns!" He hissed, already undoing the clasps on his boots.
They would be too big for her, but she had no other choice. She quickly discarded the new high heels and grabbed a napkin from the overturned table to tie her hair with it.
"Tell me you have something to fight with hidden in your bra? You always do!"
"This is not my N7 dress, I have nothing but my knife," she said, getting her hunting knife from a sheath on her thigh. One of the bad guys grabbed Brooks, another came to their table just as Joker, barefoot, moved towards the emergency exit. Jo grabbed the guy and sliced his throat. Now, wearing a red silk dress, a napkin in her hair and Joker's boots, she could fight with the pistol she got from the merc. Nobody could say she wasn't resourceful.
She got to Brooks, but the next wave of mercs surprised her by shooting at the floor instead of her. The moment's hesitation cost Jo dearly. The glass floor gave in and she fell through, flapping like a fish.
There was almost nothing to brake her fall. The sharp shards of the fish tank glass cut her skin through the dress and as she fell, trying to grab onto something, she felt one shoulder dislocate, then the second, and then everything was a haze. When she finally landed on a solid surface, wild pain roared through her whole body and the rest of the world became a foggy blur.
Jo forcefully jerked one arm and heard a life-saving pop. Her left shoulder reduced itself. Coughing out water and algae, Jo turned to the side and used her shaking left hand to set the right shoulder before the pain really registered. With both shoulders done, she sat up and took stock of her body. Joker's boots saved her from twisted and broken ankles, but her right hand was swelling rapidly. Two dislocated fingers and one fractured metacarpal. She yanked her fingers sharply and screamed in pain. This was not how she had hoped to spend this shore leave.
"Now's time to show'em that Commander Fucking Shepard can fight with her right hand tied behind her back," she muttered, getting up. The rest of her body was bleeding from the glass cuts, but the red dress was covering a lot of the colour.
"Commander Shepard?" Brooks yapped in her comm. "Are you okay down there?"
"Peachy," Jo collected the pistol with her left hand and looked around for a way to get to safety. Since the weird girl seemed to be the only one available on the com, Jo spoke to her, pushing her a little to reveal more about herself. Jo knew that Joker and Cortez would be all over getting to her in a shuttle, so she let Brooks talk. And by the gods, talk she did.
Only... the more Brooks talked, the weirder she got. Her entire demeanour screamed 'over the top', but at the same time Jo's practiced brain noticed a specific tactic the girl was employing. She insisted on isolating Jo from everyone on her com, even from Garrus, who logged on and said he'd meet Jo soon. If Brooks weren't wearing an Alliance uniform, Jo wouldn't have hesitated identifying the tactic as hostile.
Thankfully Garrus listened to nobody when he didn't want to. Only a few minutes later he met Jo and together they fought their way to Cision Motors. With Garrus at her back she had nothing at all to fear anymore. Well, maybe there was a moment of insecurity when the C-Sec shuttle they thought would pick them up revealed a bunch of the same mercs. But in that very moment a gigantic, krogan-shaped bomb dropped from the sky and took the shuttle apart.
"Wrex," Jo sighed with joy. She and Garrus abandoned cover - what was the point, really? - and watched with awe and deep love how Wrex made short work of those poor mercs. There was nothing like a krogan bodyguard.
Fighting with Garrus and Wrex on her team was like a rush of love which made her forget all about her mangled right hand, two recently dislocated shoulders and a million cuts and bruises. Her boys would get her out of any trouble.
Just a few minutes later Joker picked them up and delivered them safely at Anderson's apartment. Jo had to remind herself several times of the promise she made to him after they cured the genophage: she would be less touchy-feely with Wrex. She would have jumped into Wrex's arms otherwise and rubbed herself all over her favourite krogan, but a promise was a promise.
Soon enough the rest of the ground team was in the apartment, too. Everyone looked at the buzzing new addition with mild annoyance. Brooks laid it on even thicker with the admiration and wide-eyed naiveté. Jo didn't know what to think about the girl, except that she didn't trust her.
Something was wrong with those mercs, too. They hadn't really tried to kill Jo at the restaurant. They showed up with flair and shot specifically at the fish tank, not at her. Perhaps she was meant to fall down and land at Cision Motors? Because the only moment when she was in real danger was when the door of that fake C-Sec shuttle opened and the mercs inside opened fire. If it hadn't been for Wrex, she and Garrus could both have been killed. Something wasn't right here.
While Glyph was working on the pistol Jo picked up, the rest of the crew decided to change their careers to clowns. Tali and Liara longingly mourned the destroyed restaurant, while EDI kindly informed Jo that civilian casualties were restricted to fish.
"Restricted to fish?!" Jo wasn't in the mood for their jokes. "I fell several hundred meters along a wall, dislocated two shoulders, two fingers and broke my hand, apart from bleeding cuts all over and bruised hips, knees and ribs. What do you all think I am, a rubber tumbler toy? No matter how you toss me around, I'll just get up like nothing's the matter?!"
Everyone in the apartment immediately became quiet. Joker came over and wrapped an arm around her wet, dirty and ragged form:
"You okay?"
"I will be," she pointed at her swelling hand. Several people around nervously started calling Cortez, asking him to bring Karin Chakwas and her med kit.
"Go get changed," Joker pushed her towards the bedroom. "I brought some of your clothes from the Normandy."
"Thank you," Jo agreed. The broken bone would give her trouble for a few days. She couldn't go into battle against Cerberus and the Reapers with a broken hand. It looked like their shore leave just extended for a little while.
When Jo was done, Karin was there to look at her. She said there was only a hairline fracture in her hand and with all the available tech and medigel it would heal within four days. Thank god for small favours.
Liara had news when they were done. The identity thief breaking into Jo's accounts was employing CAT6 mercs, as in Alliance washouts. She had an ID disguiser, but even behind all the tech Jo could hear a woman's voice. Well, it made sense. Who else could steal Jo's identity if not another woman?
It wasn't like the galaxy wasn't full of Shepard wannabes, but this one was different. She came into direct contact with Jo for some reason. Most would be using Jo's access codes from across the galaxy, avoiding detection. This one needed something else. Something more than Jo's codes. And yet... the attempts on Jo's life hadn't been real all evening long. There was more to this game and Jo didn't know the rules. For now they decided to meet the weapon smuggler, Khan, at his casino and have a talk. Brooks kind of volunteered to climb through the ducts and Jo let her. There really wasn't anyone else in the apartment small enough or organic enough to do the job.
"Who are you taking with you?" Liara asked Jo when everyone agreed that only a small team would enter the casino attending the charity event. "There is, after all, a small hurdle. Black tie required."
Jo looked at her team. Wrex was a rare guest these days and therefore every second of his company was cherished, but for a black tie event - and such a public one - Jo would cherish only one man's company.
"Come with me?" She smiled at Joker across the holo table.
"What?" He sounded shocked. "Me? You want to take me on a mission? What if there's gunfire? What if we have to run?"
"Didn't you want to be a part of the ground team, just once?" She approached him and purred in his ear as she ran her fingers over his chest. "I know I always wanted to see you in a black tie and show you off in front of the cameras."
"Uh... yeah... but... the gunfire? And the running?"
"I'll protect you," she plastered herself against his front. If people around them were uncomfortable with their public displays of affection, Jo didn't care. "You don't even have to lose the hat."
Of course Joker was in, he had no other choice now that the whole team was looking at him. Half an hour later Liara had a rental suit for him and dresses for Jo and Brooks delivered to the apartment.
"That thing you're wearing, it's too flimsy," Wrex protested when he saw her dressed up. "You can't hide a weapon anywhere. Tell me you're carrying at least something."
Jo inspected herself in the mirror. Karin had taken care of the cuts and bruises with a lot of medigel and concealer, and her hand was in a stylish, black cast. Another new pair of high heels within one day and a little make-up and Jo was ready. However Wrex was absolutely right: there was very little place to hide a weapon under that dress.
"I was carrying my hunting knife under the other dress when I went to the restaurant, but I lost it when I fell and dislocated both shoulders," Jo sighed deeply. That knife had been with her since her resurrection, but such was the life of a warrior. Sometimes you escaped battle with literally nothing but your skin.
"That's a real shame," Liara said and others nodded. They'd all seen her always carry that knife.
All was forgotten, though, when Joker came down the stairs. Jo's knees went weak at the sight of the man she loved in a black suit with a white stripe around his collar, shiny buttons and polished shoes. He came over to her with a slight limp, his shoulders uneven, and Jo's poor, galloping heart had to admit that there wasn't a sexier sight in the whole world. But somehow she thought it was okay to go weak in the knees at the sight of your one true love, even if the galaxy was going under. She was saving it for him, after all, him and no one else.
Joker complained about not driving the car to the casino, but Jo told him that celebrities arrived in the backseat. He grumbled, but then he saw the long carpet and the army of gawpers and journalists alongside it, and he believed her. Everyone knew that Commander Shepard was arriving and the cameras aimed at them like weapons.
Jo stepped out of the car slowly, seductively, showing off her legs and ass. Now that she was here, she could at least milk it. As soon as Joker and Brooks were out of the car, Jo hooked her arm through his. People were applauding them loudly.
"If there's anyone in the galaxy who didn't know about me and you yet, they will by the end of the evening," Jo whispered into his ear, waving at people. "That's how you make a statement."
"No, this is how you make a statement," he whispered back, emboldened by the reception, grabbed her neck and dipped her in a kiss. The crowd roared, many of them asking each other who Joker was and if Jo was really the legendary Commander Shepard, but the whole world stopped moving for Jo. Suspended in the air except for the support of his arms, she'd never felt more safe and secure. The gesture was so sweet, possessive and romantic that Jo forgot everything around her. She was sure she was blushing like a virgin and flapping her hands helplessly, but even her foggy, melting brain conceded that she would stay like this forever if only Joker was kissing her.
Eventually they made it inside and Brooks wandered off to look for the ventilation shaft she needed to get through to Khan. That left Jo and Joker alone in a room full of the rich and famous of the Citadel.
"Do you realise that I'm not much help if you want to mingle?" Joker asked quietly, setting his hat firmer on his head. "I hate people, and I hate these people even more."
"Don't worry, they hate you just as much," Jo pointed at the snobbish party guests. Together they entered the main room and started a round to see what was happening.
"So," Joker said after a while. "This is... different. Is this what your N3 undercover missions usually looked like?"
"Well, usually I was a little more undercover. Never went anywhere as Commander Shepard back then, but generally... yeah. A bit more dangerous, though. I was always the one carrying weapons and tech, climbing the ventilation shafts, disabling doors, distracting security... It's nice to have such a gorgeous accomplice, too," she leaned into him with pure trust. His arm went around her possessively, like the rest of the casino guests weren't even there.
"Thank you for bringing me," he said and then added, as his face melted into surprising gentleness: "I love you."
"I love you, too," she whispered against his shoulder. "It's never a good mission if you're not with me, in my com or in person."
He looked around more seriously and tugged her tighter into him.
"We don't belong here," he observed. Jo knew that he wasn't speaking about him and her as people, but about them as a couple, a fixed unity. Their world was very different from the disgustingly rich surroundings of a casino. There was danger in it, but there was also honesty and real friendship with no strings attached.
"You're right, we don't," she nodded and then flashed him an evil smile: "All the more reason to fuck with these guys!"
Against his own expectations Joker turned out to be an excellent partner in crime. Whenever Brooks needed them to distract some guards, he laid his charm on them until they wanted to run screaming. He infallibly gave Jo all the time she needed to disable cameras and open doors.
They got to Khan's panic room easily enough, considering the circumstances, but the man turned up recently killed. Joker cursed and Brooks informed them that Khan's terminal had been wiped. Jo hoped that the tech was still worth a second look, though, and she was right. She traced the last call back and connected.
All three of them turned to the screen when the mysterious identity thief appeared. The voice was scrambled and the vid signal barely more than static, but when Jo looked at the figure, a big, cold empty void opened where her stomach was. Even through the static she could clearly see a female face and the unmistakable, unique golden colour of her own hair, twisted in the exact same military kind of bun in the back of the woman's head. Now and then the static revealed the eyes, too. Eerily familiar, grey-brown, thin almond shaped eyes.
The galaxy was full of Shepard wannabes. Genetic manipulation could turn a human into a Prothean for the right price, so imitating the hair colour, eye shape, even voice and body form wouldn't be difficult. But the void in her stomach told Jo that this was something different. This identity thief's attempts to kill Jo had been half-hearted at best so far, and the ragging on she just got felt amateurish at best. Like this woman was just learning to be a badass. There was something odd about her.
No matter how much Jo's insides twisted, there was nothing left for them at the casino, so they returned to the apartment.
Brooks started with the flattery, praising the legend of Jo's team. Jo trusted her less and less by the minute. Flattery always tensed her and made her suspicious.
Glyph suddenly reported that Jo's Spectre authorisation codes were in use at the Citadel archives right this moment. While the rest of the team geared up Jo wondered how the identity thief had gotten her codes in the first place, because Jo didn't believe even for a second that her Spectre profile had been hacked.
Everyone wanted to be on her team, as always, but Jo took Wrex and Tali. Interesting things always happened on the battlefield when those two fought at her side. Biotics and tech, tank and tiny dancer, raw strength and intelligence, undying loyalty and... undying loyalty. Jo needed that combination, now that her right hand was broken.
Of course, once they were inside, Wrex rushed off ahead to mow down all the mercs by himself. The rest of the guys split into two teams and were loudly competing with each other for the most kills - or the lamest jokes. Jo had to laugh when Javik declared himself his own team and raced off to improve his killing statistics. It would be a miracle if by the end of this night the archives still stood in one peace. Her people had amazing destructive power.
Then again, suddenly they were surrounded and Jo couldn't blame it on her broken hand. On an upper level, hiding in shadows, the identity thief held a pistol to Brooks' head and demanded that Jo's team put down their weapons.
The voice. Jo's head spun instantaneously. Hearing your own voice - outside your head? The weirdest thing for anyone to learn. Jo heard that voice from the balcony and once Brooks was released, the woman up there finally stepped into the light.
The sight of her was a sucker-punch.
"Hah..." Jo gulped in some air and froze with her mouth open.
She was a vision of beauty. She had the exact same body, eyes, voice, hair, even agility as Jo, but none of her scars. The smooth, healthy skin glowed like roses in obvious excitement. She jumped off the balcony and stepped right in front of Jo.
Jo's brain spun like a turbine. There was still a chance that this had a simple explanation. A wannabe, a good plastic surgery, something... Until Jo knew for sure, she couldn't let herself... feel...
"Who are you and where did you come from?" She demanded, her voice weak with the desperate want.
"The same DNA as you," she said, trying too hard to sound like a badass. She was kind of failing. "You were not the only Shepard Cerberus brought back to life. I was created for spare parts, in case you needed another arm, or a lung, or a heart."
Wrex and Tali wanted to protest, but Jo raised a hand, making everyone in the archives fall silent, even her.
The whole world changed in an instant. Thirty (okay, thirty two) years of one single certainty in Jo's life, the unfortunate, tragic, heartbreaking truth - Johanna Shepard was alone in the world. Not by choice, but by a twist of destiny. That loneliness was the reason she'd joined the Marines, why she never spared herself trying to save other people, those who were not so alone. The feeling, the cold and horrible, empty feeling of vacuum around her all her life, which couldn't be filled by friends and lovers, the feeling of being a lone wolf - it roared up and toppled Jo's existence. It took her breath away and her heart hammered away in her chest as the two pairs of grey-brown eyes locked.
And then the storm settled, leaving Jo breathless, her ears ringing, her eyes watering, her knees weak and her stomach threatening to turn.
She was no longer alone.
She had a sister.
A twin sister.
"I want you," she blurted out suddenly into her face. She didn't bother hiding the deep fascination she felt, or the instant, unconditional love, or the despair of a life-long wish come true, or the fear that it could be taken away just as easily. There was no reason to hide anything anymore.
