ACT I:
Chapter One
Silence.
A gasp tore through Clara's throat, her heart hammering in her chest and her lungs burning painfully. Her eyes took a moment to focus, darting everywhere. The ringing in her ears subsided and she realized she wasn't at work, not anymore. She wasn't even in the sister facility.
The ringing in her ears had been replaced by a dull roar, the sounds of people milling around a stark difference to the silence of the lab. Everywhere was bright, the floors and walls white and shining while people casually wandered about. Her eyes widened when she saw a blue woman walk by, turning to watch as she disappeared past a receptionists desk and into a stairwell. She turned around quickly, eyes burning and stomach churning as she realized why this place looked so familiar.
This was the Citadel. Specifically, the Presidium – she remembered playing Mass Effect and running from place to place as she tried to appease the Consort, find Nassana Dantius, help Bhatia get his wife back, to find Garrus and Wrex and Tali and oh god she was in a video game.
She held her purse close to her chest as she plopped down on a nearby bench, letting shock settle in. There was no other answer. It was impossible, completely unlikely, but undoubtedly true. She forced herself to move, forced herself to relax and act like she belonged.
She hadn't had to pretend like this in years, not since she was strutting about the orphanage acting like tough shit less she wanted to be treated like shit.
Normally, had she been in a strange city back on Earth – back in 2012 – she would have pulled out her phone and looked preoccupied. She nearly did, until she realized to everyone here that tech was over a hundred years old. Instead she settled for shuffling through her purse, acting like she belonged among the asari and the turians and the salarians that hovered nearby.
She had no idea where she was – she only knew she was in the Presidium. She didn't know who to trust here, not really, and she didn't even know the date (though, by her estimation, it had to be close to 2183 – if she was here, in this world, why would she be here at any other time?) Shock hadn't set in yet – her instincts didn't allow it to. She knew the moment she got somewhere safe her strength would evaporate and she would cry and yell and panic and theorize and wind up miserable. For now, she had to work on not getting caught.
Survival first. Survival required money. She mentally catalogued her current possessions – her iPhone, her car keys, her wallet (ID, credit card, debit card, checkbook and 50 dollars cash), stray pens, loose change, an old copy of Neil Gaimen's "Good Omens", her iPod, a game boy? When did she put that in there? And various bits of paper.
The iPhone would be useless unless she found a collector or a museum, technology didn't age like most antiques, the older it was the cheaper it came. Her purse was Coach, red patent leather, as was her wallet. She could get those for a high price if she went to the right place, most likely. She remembered watching shows like Storage Hunters, where they went through peoples discarded belongings to look for treasures. They would find Vuitton bags from the 1920's and wind up selling for thousands of dollars. The game boy was an old Colour, and she now remembered she had gotten it for Gerald and was going to give it to him as a birthday present. Books were good, if it was a first edition, and even then she may find a collector excited just to have any remnant of the 21st century.
As for the money, she could find a bank and exchange it for the galactic standard or save it until she found a collector willing to pay out.
And that was when she forced herself to look around again. How the hell was she going to survive? She may have plans, but she had little information except for what the games told her-
Wait.
Her eyes lit up and she actually smiled – that was it! Information!
She stood quickly, ignoring the curious looks sent her way, and walked with her head held high. Thankfully, she remembered this bit of the game – her console was unplugged just as she made it to Barla Von's office, and she'd had to find her way all over again. She didn't dare use rapid transport, not when she knew so little about it, and instead crossed to the other side of the Presidium.
She could panic later. Right now, she had to survive, and survival meant getting to the information broker. She couldn't pay him – not yet - but she could offer him information. It was risky. It was putting her own ass on the line, but if she didn't, well. She wouldn't have an ass left to bet.
At first she thought she was lost, certain she took a wrong turn, but then she spotted the wide expanse of the Financial district, recognized the hanar that sold goods to her in the game. Her eyes drifted to her right and she spotted a salarian leaning against the wall by a door, its button glowing a welcoming green.
There. That was his office. She took a deep breath to calm herself down before crossing the walkway, hesitating as the door opened automatically to her.
Across the sterile white room, situated behind a large desk, was a volus. He looked up as she entered, the sound of his breather clicking as he took in her appearance. She forced herself not to fidget as she approached the desk.
He said something, and her stomach sank when she realized she didn't understand it – of course. She didn't have a translator. But that didn't mean he didn't understand her.
"I'm afraid my translator was damaged," she said, offering a smile, "Do you happen to have a spare?"
The volus looked intently at her for a moment before pulling something from his desk and tossing it to her. She looked it over curiously and realized it slid into her ear like a hearing aid. She quickly popped it into place and pressed the small button on the side. She looked at the volus curiously, hoping it worked.
"How may I help you?" Barla Von asked, his words filtering into her head in the very familiar English, his breather clicking, "I…don't believe I've seen you on the Citadel before, Earth-clan."
Well that would be because she just arrived there. Clara took a deep breath, "I know you're an information broker," she said, "I need information."
The volus looked at her for a long moment before nodding at a chair, "Take a seat, Earth-clan. Perhaps we can be of some asset to one another."
She sat, keeping her purse tight to her chest as she faced the alien. He looked at her for a long moment, the lights of his eyes flickering as he came to some sort of conclusion about her.
"You should know that information does not come cheaply," he said. Clara forced herself not to fidget, to channel that inner strength that helped her survive for 8 years, and met his gaze evenly.
"I'm not here for the traditional information many of your other…clients may be looking for," she said, "Perhaps I can tell you what I need, and you can tell me whether you can help? I don't have money – not yet – but I'm a woman of my word, and if any of this information costs you I will repay you, that I swear." She pursed her lips as she inhaled through her nose, calming herself down, "Or, I can offer information."
"I'm listening," Barla Von responded, interest tinting his tone. His breather clicked, and Clara nodded.
"I own nothing but the clothes on my back and what is in my purse," she admitted, "I think I have some things I can sell, but I can't afford to give them away at anything less than top dollar. I was hoping you would know some collectors on the Citadel who would be willing to look at what I have."
Balra relaxed, nodded, "This information I will give you freely, Earth-clan. Though I must wonder," His breather clicked, "why you came to me."
"I can get to that in a moment," Clara responded, running her fingers over the strap of her purse, "Can I show you what I have?"
He nodded, motioned to his desk, and she very carefully unloaded her belongings in a nice line in front of him. He looked on with interest, eyes scanning over each new item until she had showed him everything she had. He looked at her then.
"You have some interesting fare, Earth-clan," he observed, his breather clicking, "I can tell you who will give you the most credits for these items, certainly. I can also tell you what would be best fit given to a museum."
He leaned forward and rearranged what she had quickly, grouping the electronics together in one pile, the money in another, the purse and wallet on its own, and the book he kept in his hands.
"Paper books are hard to find in this century," he said, running his stubby fingers over the binding, "Especially in a condition such as this. I have a friend with an extensive collection, and I do not believe he has this particular work. He would be very interested in buying it from you, and he is not afraid to offer you the best price. He collects not for monetary value, but for sentimental value. A strange man, certainly, but a good one."
He set the book aside and turned his eyes to the electronics, "These are worth nothing to almost everyone – but a museum. You could donate them, of course, but considering the condition I believe you would be able to get a hefty sum for the lot. I'm not familiar with most of these items, but there is a section of the museum dedicated to Earth – they will pay you decently for what you have."
"And then we have the money," his breather clicked, and she realized this was something that caught his personal attention, "I would have advised you, at first glance, to take it to the bank and exchange it for credits. Closer inspection reveals, though, that these paper bills and coins are old. Very old. Collectable, even. I, myself, am a collector of coins and paper bills from around the galaxy. If you would be interested, I can make you an offer for these pieces."
He looked at her, "Save the purses. They mean something to you, I can tell by the way you hold them. If it comes to it I can tell you who will buy them, but you should have more than enough money for what you already showed me."
Clara relaxed instantly, nodding eagerly as she responded, "Yes, thank you. Could you tell me about the money? How much you would be willing to pay?"
"Of course, Earth-clan," he agreed amicably, placing her items back into her purse for her before he spread the dollars and coins out on his desk, "This bills are all from the early 21st century – the 5, in particular, is one of the early colored bills from earth year 2007. It is easily one of the most cost worthy of your collection, though the 2 bill is also of interest. For the bills alone, I would be willing to offer you 10,000 credits."
Clara exhaled sharply – that was a lot. More than a lot. More than she had hoped. Not enough to get by forever, but enough for her to get by for a month or two. If Barla Von noticed her relief, he said nothing.
"The coins bear even more interest. For those I will offer you the same – 10,000 credits. Is this acceptable, Earth-clan?"
Clara nodded quickly, "Yes, yes, more than acceptable. Thank you."
The volus chuckled slightly, "I should be thanking you," his breather clicked, "I have been looking for these pieces for some time."
Clara gladly let him gather up the money, treating them like precious treasures as he placed them into a baggy and carefully tucked it away inside his desk. After a moment, he pulled a credit chip from a slot not unlike a USB drive and passed it to her. She accepted it gratefully, placing it in her wallet. She frowned at her debit card – it had held a decent amount of money.
"Does American Express still exist?" she asked, holding up the card curiously. He looked at it curiously.
"I don't think that ever has existed, Earth-clan," he said, looking at her curiously. She sighed. There went her savings.
"So far, considering what you have offered me, you don't owe me anything," Barla Von said, fixing her with an intense look, "However, I get the feeling there is more you want."
She shuffled in her seat for an instant before forcing herself to calm and meet his gaze head-on, "I don't exist here," she said honestly, "I need to create an identity."
His breather clicked, "Well, that is going to be difficult. But, not impossible. Tell me, Earth-clan, have you heard of Fist? He is another information broker, but unlike myself he dabbles in the darker side of brokering," he shook his head, "Normally, I would not direct someone to him – he is bad news, Earth-clan. However, he will get the job done. He will ask for payment of course – and it wont be cheap."
Clara felt her heart drop, "How much will he ask?"
Barla Von shook his head, "I am unsure. It depends on how…generous he is feeling."
Clara swallowed; if that wasn't ominous, she didn't know what was.
...
After obtaining a room in a cheap hotel for the night, she realized what year it was. The human news reporter, one she didn't recognize from the game, gave the year as 2178. Five years before Shepard visits Eden Prime.
If she thought she had needed to survive before, now it was even more apparent. She had five years until things happened according to her knowledge, five years to prepare for the arrival of the Reapers. She had no real training, self defense or otherwise, and now she had five years to learn.
It didn't feel like enough time.
What was she supposed to do? What did God or whoever-the-hell was up there want her to do? Why was she here?
This wasn't an accident, she knew that much – she'd seen the angle of the armature, there was no way that beam should have hit her, and even if her mental math was off (and it rarely was) there was no way the armature could have done all this. It was a simple transportation beam – all it did was move something from one place to another, not unlike the beams in Star Trek but not nearly as effective and definitely NOT to be used on people.
So, she was meant to be here. Clara didn't really believe in a higher power, had never been excessively religious (though she wore her grandmothers rosary around her neck even years after her passing), but what else could it be? There were no such things as freak accidents on this scale, not when the science and the logic completely refuted the outcome. If Clara believed in anything, she believed in science, and it just didn't do this. Science had rules and laws and guidelines and it so rarely strayed from them. Now was no exception, especially considering Talia had tested the beam moments before her own arrival in the lab.
But why? Why was she here? What did they want her to do?
Clara had no skills to help her survive – she had never held a gun, never been in a fight, had no combat experience save a few scuffles with other kids her age, and she hadn't had to defend herself in years. All she had was her brain, and the knowledge of the Mass Effect universe.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and thought deeply. This universe had to follow rules, just like any other, and now that she was here she had to follow those rules. She'd changed the future already – should she dare change it more? She wouldn't be here if she wasn't meant to do something. She knew that much. But how much did they want her to do?
What were the consequences – because there were always consequences.
She pursed her lips and laid back on her bed, throwing an arm over her eyes with a sigh. She knew she should have watched more Doctor Who, that would have helped now. What would the Doctor do?
Well. He would go back in time because he would have a TARDIS and that was a useless train of thought thank you very much.
She sighed. She was screwed. She was so screwed. She was pretty sure she had reached a new level of screwed, actually.
She rolled onto her stomach anxiously, burying her face into her pillow and holding her breath. How much should she change? Everything? How much should she tell Shepard, when the time came?
Clara had a completely unique opportunity – she had an absurd amount of weight on her shoulders, she quite literally held the fate of the world in her hands. Well. Maybe not literally – she doubted her pillow was the fate of the world.
Unless it was.
"God, I'm going insane!" she yelled into her pillow, the sound muffling and keeping anyone unwanted from overhearing. She rolled back onto her back and stared intently at the ceiling.
She couldn't do nothing. She couldn't stand by.
...
Clara put off visiting Fist for as long as possible, instead using the information she jotted onto her phone (and later onto her omni-tool) to track down the collectors Barla Von directed her to. It took a week before she sold all her antiques but the purse, her wallet, and the book.
By the end of the week, she had roughly 200,000 credits – it should have been more than enough to pay off Fist.
She bought a new wardrobe, unwilling as she was to endure the odd looks sent her way, and quickly melded with the crowds of people. Choras Den would require a different approach, however.
So, dressed in a slinky black dress with cutaways on the waist, she walked into Choras Den with her head held high, hair clipped back to show off the expanse of her neck, and headed straight back to Fist. She was stopped by a turian guard who looked her over as he demanded, "Where do you think you're going?"
Clara cocked her hip, noting the way his eyes hesitated on her waist, and said, "I'm here to see Fist."
His eyes met hers, narrowing suspiciously, "He know you're comin'?" he asked.
"No," she said honestly, "But I have information."
The turian watched for a long moment, weighing the situation in his mind, before lifting his hand to the piece in his ear, "Fist, got a girl out here to see you, says she has information." He listened to the response, glanced her over again, "For a human."
She shifted her weight to her other foot and crossed her arms, waiting patiently. After a moments more discussion the turian lowered his hand and stepped aside, "He's in the back room."
"Thank you," she smiled at him before using her faint memory of the bars layout to navigate to the back room. A guard ushered her in with a hand at her back and pulled out a chair for her – more than she had anticipated.
"So, my guard says you have information," Fist said, leaning back in his chair. Clara crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap, the picture of class.
When she was in high school she had been in theatre – she had gotten the lead role in several plays, and had always received high praise from her fellow students. She knew how to arrange herself and what motions to make when it came to convincing another person what she said was the truth.
"Yes, that's true," she agreed, keeping her tone light, "But I'm not going to tell it to you out of the kindness of my heart."
Fist quirked an eyebrow and drummed his fingers together, "What do you want in return?"
"A completely new identity," she responded, ignoring the shock that flashed over his features, "Everything from my birth to now, and I need it to be good. Can you do it?"
He hummed and sat up, picking up a data pad to flick through its contents, "I have some adept hackers in my contacts. I could set up a meeting."
"Please do so," she responded blithely, resting her chin in her hand, "As quickly as possible."
"Tomorrow, here?" he asked, "Just after opening."
"Perfect. Thank you," She smiled.
Fist nodded and tossed the pad aside, "Now we have to discuss my manner of payment. Aetius said you have information. I'd like to hear it, see if it's worthwhile. It's just business, you know. Otherwise I'm certain we can find some manner of payment."
God, she hoped he meant money.
"It's information regarding Cerberus," she responded, "I don't have any physical evidence, no paperwork, but I have the facts. Take it or leave it." She noted the way he stiffened, the slight narrowing of his eyes.
"Go on."
Clara took her time, shifting her weight and scratching her arm before saying, "A few years ago, Cerberus was performing experiments on human biotics, attempting to create the ultimate human biotic. These experiments centered around children, specifically."
Even Fist seemed unsettled by that information, "While that's interesting, I'm going to need some specifics-"
"The facility is in ruins now, located on Pragia," she said firmly, tilting her head, "I'm certain that will be sufficient?"
Fist nodded, "More than enough. My best hacker will be here tomorrow. Figure out what you want him to make, he'll have a whole new you created by the end of the week."
Clara smiled as she stood, "Thank you. You have done me a great favor."
"If we find out this information is wrong," Fist said, voice surprisingly threatening considering her main memory of him centered around him cowering from an angry Krogan, "We'll find you. You don't want that."
She turned her back to him and headed out the way she came, passing by the same guard as before. This time he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. She turned and faced him, face perfectly calm while her insides were rushing about and panicking and trying to figure out where she'd gone wrong.
"I haven't seen you around the Citadel before," he observed, leaning against the wall casually as he dropped his hand, "What's your name?"
She blinked in surprise and shifted her weight, "Clara," she offered with a brief smile.
The turian shuffled, a faint blue tint colouring his neck and she wondered – was that how turians blushed? "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a drink or something, after I get off work."
She blinked and despite her greatest efforts, she couldn't keep the blood from rising to her cheeks and staining her face. She opened her mouth to respond, floundered for a moment before saying honestly, "I don't really think I'm in the right place to go out at the moment."
His mandibles flickered, "Ah, well then. Sorry for bothering you."
Clara frowned and began to walk away before she stopped and turned, facing him again. She offered a flirty smile and said, "Ask me again tomorrow. I may say yes."
Aetius smiled, and Clara walked away before he had a chance to respond.
...
A/N: Hey, so, this is going to be my first multi-chapter Mass Effect fanfiction. Just a heads up: this story takes a little while to get going. The real "plot" doesn't start until chapter 5, but despite that the first few chapters really are important to Clara's development as a character and her motivations. This is predominantly a character-based story, and Shepard wont show up much in this, not until the end or possibly a cameo somewhere in the middle.
I've put a lot of thought into the pacing, so it's a realistic shift from a young, nerdy scientist to a young woman who can hold her own in a fire fight - if anything I write doesn't make sense and seems unrealistic, please let me know: I appreciate any and all constructive criticism.
Also: Nihlus will show up! He's a main player in this story, and I see him as a really deep character? So don't let how he acts at first turn you off. I have every intention to explore his character as well, just make sure to keep in mind that this is ALL from Clara's POV, so her bias does shine through.
Anyway. Thank you everyone who followed this story and decided to give me a chance, it means the world to me. Hopefully, this is something you can enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing (:
Lots of love;
B.E. Nomads