Chapter Two

Clara looked over her datapad slowly, carefully reading over its contents. She was now officially Clara Johnson, born June 18, 2153. She was raised on Earth until a few weeks ago, when she moved to the Citadel. She had no living family, no next of kin. She refused to lie about her education, knowing how that could easily turn and bite her in the ass, but she knew her actual major was essentially useless in a decade with tech that made the transporter that got her here look like child's play.

Having an identity did wonders with creating a life – she opened up a bank account and she got a job at a cute little café on the Presidium. It was a flashback to her freshmen year at college, working as a barista to help pay the rent. She was good at her job, though – she smiled and bantered and got orders out quickly. Her boss told her no one had complained about her, and she took that as a sign to keep doing what she was. They pay was decent, enough for her to make rent, and she got a discount on food so eating was cheap.

Time flew by so quickly that before she knew it, she'd been living on the Citadel for nearly two months. She hadn't even begun thinking about training – she barely had time to sleep, how could she fit rigorous training into her schedule? Where would she even go? There were never any life lessons on 'who to talk to when you need to learn how to be a soldier without actually enlisting'.

So, she told herself that would simply have to wait until later. She didn't know how much later would be, but, one thing at a time. Right now, she had to focus on surviving.

"You going to take me up on that offer yet?" Aetius asked, leaning against the counter of the Café with a smile. Clara rolled her eyes and passed him his drink.

"I told you, Tito, I'm not really in a good place for dating," she said before turning back to the griddle and flipping the sandwich before one side got a bit too crispy. "I let you buy me that drink."

Aetius sighed dramatically, "That's only because I hounded you for two weeks straight."

Clara shrugged, "Well, yeah. Also, free drink."

He laughed and straightened, shaking his head. "You're quirky, for a human. I like it. I've gotta go, we're opening in about thirty minutes. You gonna drop by tonight?"

Clara hesitated, not meeting his gaze as she fixed up the next customers plate, "I'm not sure," she said finally, stepping up to the counter and handing it off with a wide smile. She glanced at Aetius, "You just want me to keep you company, don't you?"

He shrugged, unrepentant expression on his face. "You make guard duty interesting. Fist doesn't trust you, you know. Won't tell me anything. According to him I should stop chatting you up. Care to explain why?"

"I thought you said you had to head to work," she retorted, before turning and pouring ingredients into a mixer. "Your boss isn't as nice as mine."

Aetius shook his head, "I'll figure you out one day, Clara. I'll see you later."

"Later, Tito!" she shot a smile over her shoulder. He nodded and turned, disappearing into the crowds quickly despite his impressive stature. She sighed and turned her attention back to the mixer.

Aetius was a good guy - turian, whatever. Despite their banter and his blatant attempts at flirting, he never pushed her for anything. He kept her company during the later hours of her shift, and she kept him company during his. As far as friends go she could have done way worse. And maybe she flirted with him, maybe she entertained the idea of dating someone like him, but she kept reminding herself that this wasn't her world. Aetius was a good man, but if he knew her - the real her, the 2012 her - he would turn tail and call the nearest asylum on her.

He was a good guy, and she could herself falling for someone like him. But this wasn't her world. It was safer if they kept it friendly.

Despite her initial hesitance, she found herself dressed in that damnable black dress as she entered Chora's Den. She didn't linger at the bar long, only taking enough time to get a drink before she headed over to Aetius' post.

"So, you dropped by anyway," he said, glancing down at her before returning his attention to his surroundings. "Is that new perfume?"

Clara raised an eyebrow, "You smelling me, Tito?"

He chuckled, "Can't help it – turians have a better sense of smell than humans. It's nice though, like it better than what you were wearing. Course, that smelled good too."

"Nice save," she said dryly, taking a sip. "You flirt with girls often?"

"Only the pretty ones," he winked.

She snorted, "Nice one. How are you still single? Smooth as you are you should have hoards of women throwing themselves at your feet."

"Well, the one I want keeps rejecting me," he sent her a sly look.

She mock-gapsed. "How dare she! She obviously doesn't know who you are," she winked. "I'll put in a good word for you, no worries. I'm sure I can wear down her walls with enough time."

Aetius shook his head and kept his attention on his surroundings. Despite his requests for her presence in the bar, he very rarely let his attention deviate from the job at hand. He was dedicated, though not to Fist exactly. Fist paid good money, money he sorely needed, and so he worked to make sure his job was secure. He had a sister, she knew, and she knew the girl was sickly. Every penny counted, and he refused any of her offers for help. Stubborn mule.

Clara was more than content to lean against the wall beside her friend and provide idle chatter to keep the boredom at bay. Tonight was different though – he was tense, as if he knew something was going to happen. Clara frowned.

"You alright, Aetius?" she asked.

"Got a spectre in here," he murmured. "There, on the left. Red plates, white colony markings."

Her eyes scanned over the bar casually, stopping when the turian matching the description slid into view. Her stomach dropped out and she forced her gaze away almost as quickly as it landed on the familiar face. She hadn't played Mass Effect in a long time, perhaps six months before her transportation into this universe, but she knew that face.

Nihlus Kryik. Spectre. Protégé of Saren Arterius. Dead man walking.

She sipped her drink and avoided looking in his direction. She didn't know why he was here, what Chora's Den held for him, but she knew she didn't want to cross his path. For now she was excelling at blending. She was unimportant, just another person on the Citadel trying to get by. She didn't need any drama, not when hell would come knocking on her door in five years time.

"You think he's going to cause problems?" she asked softly, glancing up at her friend. He shrugged.

"Hope not. Taking down a spectre is gonna suck."

Her stomach twisted and she wondered if that meant he would try to take the other turian down. Aetius was good: he had gone through military training just like every other turian, he'd done his time and gotten the hell out of dodge the moment his mandatory service was up. He kept his skills sharp, trained every night, but it wasn't going to be enough to take on a Spectre. It wasn't going to be enough to take on Nihlus.

Hours passed, and the spectre disappeared from view. Neither of them relaxed, but eventually Clara knew it was time to go. She yawned and popped her back, smiling sleepily up at her friend. "I've gotta head in."

"Aren't you off work tomorrow?" he asked curiously. She nodded.

"Yeah, but I'm tired. I've been up for hours. Us weak humans need our sleep."

She grinned. For once, Aetius didn't return it. "Stay safe out there tonight, Clara," he cautioned her. "If a spectre was hanging around, something's up. Don't want you getting caught in the middle of it."

Clara shook her head and leaned up to press her lips against his mandible, "Don't worry, Aetius, I can take care of myself. I'll see you tomorrow – coffee at the café around noon?"

"Is it a date?" he asked, waggling his brow plates. She laughed.

"You can pretend it is if it makes you happy," she agreed. He chuckled and patted her back, ushering her towards the door.

"Go sleep, Clara, you're actually starting to respond to my advances."

She laughed, probably a bit louder than a sober her might have, and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you around, Tito. Stay safe out there tonight."

He let his fingers linger at her waist for a moment before he nodded and nudged her away towards the entrance. She stumbled a bit but waved him off before he could attempt to steady her. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she left with her wits gathered about her. She channeled her inner strength, keeping her head high and an air of importance about her. As long as she did that, she could keep any unwanted attention away.

Though the day never ended in the wards, there were periods of time where the pathways were silent, their normal occupants either waking up for the day or heading to bed for the night. The empty period rarely lasted longer than half an hour, but it was enough time for her to get from Chroas Den to her house unencumbered. Usually.

"I have a question," a voice called out from behind her, causing her to misstep and nearly twist her ankle. She turned quickly, facing the voice with her hand balled in a fist at her side (Thumb on the outside, she told herself, otherwise I'll break it). Her eyes widened when she saw who was approaching her.

"What's a Cerberus operative doing on the Citadel?" Nihlus asked, quickly encroaching on her personal space. Clara felt her heart stutter in her chest.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, wishing that she had taken the time to by some of that god damned pepper spray. If it worked for Black Widow it could damn well work for her.

"Don't play coy," Nihlus demanded, stepping towards her as she stepped back. "Nothing happens on the Citadel that we don't notice. Not when you're a spectre."

"I'm not Cerberus," she said honestly, pushing her panic aside in an attempt to appear calm – it worked, to a degree. Her voice didn't even waver. She was pretty sure the wide-eyed expression gave her away regardless.

"Really," he said shortly, unconvinced. "So what you're trying to tell me is that you just stumbled upon a derelict Cerberus facility in the middle of Pragia."

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He'd talked to Fist and that little rat bastard sold her out. That was why he had been in Choras Den, he had been watching her. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. How the hell was she supposed to fix this? How could she convince him she wasn't Cerberus? What could she say, she went on a vacation to Pragia and stumbled upon the ruins of an abandoned research facility? Nothing wouldn't make her look guilty.

"If I was Cerberus why the hell would I sell information about them?" she demanded, continuing her steady walk backwards. She knew this path well, walked it almost every night. She just hoped she was as familiar with it as she thought.

He matched her step for step, keeping the same distance between them, "Ex-Cerberus, then. Don't think I just took the information and left it at that. You're Clara Johnson, born June 18, 2153, arrived on the Citadel two months ago. Grew up on Earth. These papers are solid, but Fist was a loose end. You should have kept to Barla Von, at least he doesn't sell out his customers. I have to admit, I was surprised to see you so cozy with a turian. When I first saw you two together I thought you were planning on shooting him in the back. You're a good actor, though. I almost thought Fist lied to me."

"I am not Cerberus," she said slowly, cursing when her back slammed into a wall. She should have never had that last drink. "I never have been and I never will be. I'm not a xenophobe."

"Then where did you get the information?" he demanded, closing the space between them before she had a chance to bolt, "Cerberus has been on the move these past few months – just a small bit of information will give us the edge we need. If you're not a xenophobe, then you'll tell me what you know."

"I don't know anything else," she swore, and it was the truth. All she knew wouldn't happen until 5 years from now, and she had no idea if some of those plans were already in motion – she knew nothing of worth.

"Lying doesn't become you, Miss Johnson," Nihlus said, glaring down at her and for a horrible, terrifying moment Clara wondered if he was going to kill her.

"I'm not lying!" she snapped, her fear turning to anger because god, why couldn't he hear the truth? Why was he so driven to find out what she knew when she'd already shared all she could? "I stumbled upon the information, that's it. I've never worked with Cerberus and I never will!" At least, not for another 7 or so years. Theoretically speaking. If she got on the Normandy, you could bet your ass she was going to stay for the long haul.

He kept glaring, refusing to budge, and Clara wondered how long he planned on keeping her there. Finally he stepped back and she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "I don't believe you," he said. "I know you're hiding something."

"Then why are you letting me go?" she retorted, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I don't have enough evidence," he said with a shrug. "But I will. You're a threat to the Citadel, and I'm not going to let you wander around doing whatever you like. The moment you step out of line, I'll be on you."

There was a murmuring in the alleys, and Clara let her eyes dart away for just a moment. In that instant, he was gone, melding with the crowds of people as they slipped from their homes and out into the streets, just starting their day. Clara was left, paralyzed with fear, and for a while she wondered if her own home was even safe.

Her head fell back against the wall as she steadied her heart. After a long moment she forced herself back into the crowds. She tried to blend, tried to keep a steady pace, but before she realized it she was nearly jogging up the stairs into her home on Bachjret ward. Her fingers shook as she unlocked the door, and the moment it opened she slid in and slammed it shut.

She was silent for a long while, letting her breathing steady and her heart rate slow as she leaned against the wall. An instant later, she sank to her knees and cried.

…

Clara awoke hours later to a pounding on her door. At first she thought it was in her head, the remnants of a fading hangover, but after the pounding did nothing but get louder as she ignored it she realized it wasn't coming from in her own head. She sat up, her hair a disheveled mess, and listened closely.

"Clara?"

She stumbled to her feet and hurried across the room, quickly unlocking her door and letting it swing open. Aetius stood on the other side, fist raised to knock again. The moment he looked at her he relaxed, curses flying from his mouth in a language her translator refused to comprehend.

"Do you realize what time it is?" he asked as she stepped aside and let him in. She closed the door quickly, fear still burning in the back of her mind. He raised his hand, pressing it to her cheek in a way that made her heart stutter. She leaned into his palm for a moment before stepping towards him. In an instant his arms were around her and she was sobbing into his chest. He trilled anxiously, his mandibles flickering as he attempted to comfort her. His talons ran through her hair and pressed soothingly against her back.

"I – I – I…" she hiccupped, trying to force herself speak but unable to get past the first syllable. He shushed her, his chest vibrating as he continued to trill at her. A small, slightly hysterical side of her likened him to an anxious mother hen.

"Calm down, Clara. I'm not leaving you, alright, so just...take deep breaths," he murmured, pressing the side of his face to her head, nuzzling it gently, "Breathe, Clara."

She hiccupped a few more times, trying to reign in her emotions. To his credit, he didn't falter in the gentle motion of his hands against her back, and the soft trilling sound gave her something to focus on. Eventually the sobs subsided and she calmed down enough to pull her face away from his chest – she didn't dare pull away from his arms, though. Not when she finally felt a modicum of safety.

"Are you okay?" he asked, before cursing and shaking his head. "Listen to me, you're clearly not okay. What happened, Clara?"

Her lip trembled and he moved quickly, guiding her to her couch and gently forcing her into the cushions, "Look, I'll make you some of that drink you like – asari tea, right? I'll make you some tea, and you rest. Can you tell me when I come back?"

For a moment, despite the fact that she was still terrified and wanted anything but to be left alone, her heart warmed. She'd only mentioned her taste for asari tea once before, back before they were even close to friends, and he'd remembered it this whole time. She sniffled, and nodded. He pushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he pressed his forehead to hers briefly. He was gone an instant later, the sounds of him bustling about in her small kitchenette keeping her from panicking any further.

He returned a few moments later with a steaming cup of tea. The cup looked positively ridiculous in his hands, and she couldn't keep in the laugh that slipped through her lips. He blinked, but relaxed slightly at the laugh, "Are you making fun of me?" he asked, mandibles flicking into a small, hesitant grin.

"You look ridiculous," she said, accepting the drink gratefully. "Your hands weren't made to hold such tiny cups."

He bristled, his mandibles flaring slightly, but he quickly relaxed again and sat beside her. She leaned towards him and he let her rest her head against his shoulder. He waited patiently running the backs of his fingers over her arm as she drank. Eventually, the tremors that rattled her frame dispersed, and she was able to speak clearly.

"I haven't been totally honest with you," she said hoarsely, looking up at him. He was watching her closely, his eyes soft and his mandibles relaxed. It was the most open she'd ever seen him.

"I didn't expect you to be," he said with a slight shrug. "The day I met you, you were coming to meet with Fist. That doesn't exactly reek trust. Next day you were talking with one of his men and I thought you were bad news. After that…I wasn't sure what to think of you."

She bit her lip, glanced away from him, "I'm not a bad person, Aetius. You know that. I was just in a bad place. Christ, I don't know a way to explain this that wont make me sound completely insane."

"It wont change my opinion of you," he vowed. "I swear."

She hesitated, working her lip between her teeth as she tried to figure out how the hell to explain everything, if she even wanted to explain everything. What else was there, though? She knew no one else, Aetius was her only friend, and he was looking at her with such honesty she wasn't certain she could lie ot him if she tried. Surely sharing the burden would help? Surely, of all people. Aetius would believe her? She opened her mouth, planning on taking it slow, but her heart overloaded her logic and everything just came pouring out. She didn't dare look at his face, terrified to see the rejection in it.

She told him about her home, nearly 200 years in the past, in an alternate dimension where she played a game called Mass Effect. She told him about what was to come, the return of the Reapers, Saren and Sovereign, Commander Shepard and the Normandy. She explained how a simple trip to the office turned into a one way trip to the Citadel, lightyears away from home. He said nothing, barely moved, barely showed he was listening.

"That's why I went to Fist," she finished, turning away. "I needed to become a person – I don't exist here. How could I survive without any sort of paper work? So I traded him, information for an identity. I told him about an old Cerberus research facility, barely mentioned in the game.

"Nihlus, the Spectre from last night," she stared into her cup, afraid to see his reaction. "He came up to me after I left the bar, demanded I tell him more information on Cerberus – information I don't have, nothing relevant anyway. And I was terrified, Aetius. I've never been more afraid in my life and I thought he was going to kill me, the way he was glaring at me…"

She stopped, glancing up at him, waiting for something – anything – to happen. Whether he pushed her away and claimed to hate her or called an asylum on her, anything was better than silence. He was looking straight ahead, mandibles tense against his face as he thought. For a horrible moment, she thought he was going to say nothing – to just get up and leave. Instead he looked at her, his eyes intense, and asked, "You swear you aren't lying to me, Clara?"

"I swear," she enthused, putting her whole soul into the words, because if Tito didn't believe her…then who would? "Aetius, why would I lie about something like that? This doesn't just happen. I need you to believe me, Tito. Please."

He relaxed, his mandibles fluttering as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. He buried his face into her hair, breathing her in, before murmuring, "I believe you."

"You do?" she asked, almost to scared to believe it. He nodded.

"I make a living watching liars and thieves," he said. "I know when someone's telling the truth. I also know you."

She relaxed instantly, smiling and pressing her face against his neck in a strange rendition of a hug. His hand dropped and rested on her waist. He purred – it was the only name close to the deep sound that she could give it – and nuzzled the top of her head, pressing her closer to him. "I don't know what I would do without you, Aetius," she admitted, "People have been nice, yeah, but you…you make things easier. I'm stuck in an alternate dimension, and you make me want to never go home."

He pressed his mouth to her forehead, and though kissing was generally not something turians were capable of, the notion made her heart warm, "Maybe this can be your home now."

Clara smiled softly, and even though she had just woken up her sleep had been anything but restful. The soothing motion of his hand sliding through her hair, talons tracing gently against the back of her neck, was more than enough to send her into a restful sleep.

When she woke, Aetius had laid her out on the couch and covered her with a quilt. She wondered if he had left her, but a moment later she head the sound of plates clinking in the kitchen. She watched as he stepped into the living room, a sandwich on one plate and a foreign dish on the other. It looked almost like mashed potatoes, but with the colour of corn. She sat up, stretching slightly, and smiled when he handed her the sandwich.

"Went out to get this," he said with a grin, "Just so you don't get your hopes up. I can't cook anything, the most I can handle are instant meals."

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks, "I appreciate your honesty," she said, "Truth is? I can't cook worth shit. You may have noticed my fridge is barren and my cabinets stocked with instant soup."

"I did," he said with an amused lilt to his tone "I took it as a warning. I clearly can't expect you to cook for me."

Clara shook her head and sat the plate on the coffee table, standing and stretching. When she felt thoroughly stretched-out she plopped back onto the couch beside the turian, who wasted no time in pressing his leg against hers. She smiled almost shyly, and nudged his foot with her own.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, glancing up at him. He ruffled her hair, smiling as she huffed.

"Wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

...

A/N: Hey y'all. So, I know, OC/OC's are really hard ships to read about sometimes, but I promise you there IS a purpose for their relationship. Like I said, Clara has to find herself, has to find motivation, and Aetius plays a huge role in this. Not only that, but he plays a role in preparing her for everything that's to come. Without Tito, it's fairly likely she would have never found a way to get onto the Normandy in 5 years bar enlisting and going through the Alliance.

So, please stick with me through this little lull in action - it's still just the exposition, after all!

Also, I lied last note: Chapter 4 is when the plot technically "starts", following a timeskip. I know, not everyone cares about Tito and Clara (even though they do have a warm spot in my heart) and just want to get to Nihlus. More than the brief cameo in this chapter, anyway. Nihlus will be here! I promise! But he isn't just going to pay attention to her for shits and giggles.

Anyway. I promise that things DO start moving soon. So please, bear with me. I try to keep every chapter around 4000 words, give or take a few hundred, that way the wait between chapters isn't so excruciating. Anyway. Thank you EVERYONE who reads through, even just a little. And to those who are still reading now, never worry about me dropping this due to lack of incentive or lack of response: Clara is my baby, and I WILL see this story through. It may take time, but if things go as they should then this should be finished in a few months.

IMPORTANT: The next chapter has some smut, though it is very very mild. I, personally, wouldn't consider it M. It's also the only instance of intimate interactions in the work. I would prefer to keep this at a T rating, but if you would like me to bump the rating up just let me know.

Lots of Love;

B.E. Nomads