Home is where the heart is. - unknown
The dull hum wakes me up. It's not that loud. You would barely notice the noise if you weren't focusing on it. I had been able to ignore it for quite some time, but now it was getting annoying. Borderline maddening. Yet sleep still held me firm in it's grasp.
It's strange, I've never heard that humming in my apartment before. Other noises, yes, but never humming. Where was the neighbors's music? The shouting of the constantly fighting couple above me? The creak of the old walls and floors?
Where was I?
The flash of a muzzle and the memory of a batarian's head exploding as I depress the trigger.
My eyes shoot open and I try to sit up.
Which turns out to be a horrible idea. My entire body collapses back into the bed, screaming bloody murder.
Hell in a hand basket!
Everything hurt. My bones hurt. My sides hurt. My lungs hurt. Every inch of skin felt busted and bruised.
I sit up again, a bit more tentatively this time, to see a series of tubes and wires protruding from underneath bandages around my wrist and arm. I also noticed that someone had taken the liberty of relieving me of my clothes and switched them out for a pale blue hospital gown. It felt like there was an odd gel like substance coating my torso.
The room was completely dark except for a few machines that beeped methodically and lit up with dull flashing lights. The humming seemed to be coming from the walls around us. Air Vents maybe? A heating system? It's only when my blurry eyesight locks onto the window across from me that I slump back further into my pillow, trying to melt into the soft fabric.
Outside was a plethora of stars too bright and numerous to originate from Earth's night sky.
It was real. All of it.
Funny, I don't really know what I was expecting.
This is the moment I should probably start having some serious concerns about my future.
This whole situation was absolutely ludicrous. People don't just get sucked into video games. Stuff like that was confined strictly to the realm of fiction. How could this have happened? Why?
I needed... time... to figure this all out. To wrap my head around the idea that I may be stuck here for a good long while. To find out if this was canon Mass Effect or not.
Never thought I would have to do research on the entire galaxy before.
And Reapers! Shit, this whole galaxy is a ticking time bomb of death and destruction.
The flash of a muzzle and the crack of a pistol rams through my mind like a freight train again, reminding me that I wasn't exactly innocent of that death and destruction.
I run a hand across my face. I'm fucked six ways to Sunday, aren't I?
Alright, it's fine. Just take it all one step at a time. Let's assume, that for the time being, there's no way back home. What should I do?
Find the darkest corner, crawl into a fetal position, and hope for the best?
Dammit, no. Stop thinking like that. You can't just hide and pretend that everything will turn out alright.
Why not? Shepard will save the galaxy eventually. All you would have to do is sit back and watch the fireworks. It would be so easy...
I dispel the thoughts with a grimace. No. I may not be a biotic like Jane, but I won't be nothing. I refuse to be useless. There had to be something I could do to help. If this is canon, then this galaxy is about to be hit hard. By Saren, Collectors, and the Reapers. I knew everything that was going to happen. It had to be... 2170? That was plenty of time. I could help in the coming war and make sure the galaxy was more prepared. I had a responsibility to help.
The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. My knowledge of the games may not be perfect, but I remember enough to make a difference.
I could do this. I can save lives. Maybe enlist with Jane-
You? A soldier!? Ha! You barely survived one firefight! And that's only 'cause Jane hauled your stupid ass out of the fire.
Fuck off. I'm awesome. And if boxing taught me anything, it was how to take a hit and get right back up. This is no different. As soon as I got out of this hospital bed...
What if I only make things worse?
"Doctors said you weren't supposed to wake up until tomorrow."
The voice makes me start from my inner reprieve. My head whips around so fast to the left, I nearly give myself whiplash.
There, sitting in a hospital bed I had previously assumed unoccupied, was the shape of a person. The sparse light of the machines and stars illuminated just enough crimson hair to distinguish that the girl talking to me was Jane Shepard.
If I didn't feel like death warmed over I would have responded with some sarcastic joke. Right now, I was lucky I was able to turn and face her without feeling lightheaded. I'd have to save all my witty one liners for when I could breath properly.
"Why does my face hurt?" I have no idea why that was the first question that came out of my mouth. You would think I would have asked where we were or how we had gotten here, but no. Sometime, my lack of complexity surprised even me.
A tired chuckle echoed from Jane's direction, "Well, you did use it to slide down most of the hill so that would probably explain the pain. Got yourself a nice gravel burn."
"Am I still handsome?" I ask with a weak grin because even if it was real, we're still alive. Both of us. We made it out of that death trap of a colony and I didn't screw up anything in the process. Probably.
"I wouldn't look at a mirror any time soon, if I were you."
"How 'bout you? Any cool scars?" I ask.
"Only one on my cheek," Jane shifts in her bed, and I get the feeling she's facing me now, "Can I ask you a favor?"
I shrug, flinching as volts of pain are sent tap dancing along my spine. I wait for her response only to realize she probably can't see me, "Okay."
"Don't tell the doctors I'm a biotic."
My brow furrows as I try to think of a reason for her not wanting me to tell the doctors. Some biotics had to deal with prejudice, right? Wasn't there an entire mission in the first game centered around a biotic terrorist group that were pissed about their treatment? And Jane was afraid of that? Was it really that bad? "Why? Would they treat you different or something? Cause you shouldn't have to put up with that shit and we can tell them where they can stick their prejudiced-"
"What? No!" Jane interjects quickly, almost sounding surprised, "No... maybe. I don't know. It's just... My mom and dad always taught me to hide my biotic abilities, even from the other farm kids. They trained me themselves, with the help of some friend of theirs in the military. Well, more my mom. They just didn't want me having to deal with some of the bullshit the rest of the biotics at those Alliance training camps had to deal with, you know."
It took a moment for that to set in. "Wait, so you don't have an implant?"
"No," Jane shifted uncomfortably, "But I'm not some ticking time bomb or anything. That's not... how... it..." she trails off as I burst into laughter that quickly turns into dry coughs.
Ow, not a good idea. Avoid laughing for at least a week.
"Sorry," I wheeze, rubbing at the pain in my chest, "But you took down an entire squad of batarians and didn't even have an implant! You're like a freaking superhero! That's awesome!"
"You... must of hit your head harder than I thought." Jane mutters sheepishly at the compliment even as her posture relaxed.
"Tell me about it." I wave off, regaining my breath, "You won't have to worry about me saying anything to any doctors."
Jane seems to visibly lighten and I wonder if she really was expecting me to say anything different. That was just wrong. Teenagers shouldn't have to put up with a bunch of prejudiced, narrow minded idiots.
"Thanks, boy scout."
"Don't mention it, shorty."
We settle into an easy silence, giving me ample time to hash out my next actions.
What to do now.
Suddenly, I remember the omni-tool still wrapped around my wrist. "Oh hey, almost forgot." I take off the elastic metal and toss it onto Jane's bed, "Your father left a message on the omni-tool for his family. I think he wanted you to see it."
Jane doesn't say a word, instead she picks it up and tosses it back, "It's probably for mom or Tommy. They'll see it when I rescue them."
That causes another stab of guilt to twist in my stomach, "All the same, I'm sure your father would have wanted you to-"
"No, he really wouldn't of." Jane interrupts. Her tone leaving little room for further discussion.
A tense silence stretches between us. I can't help but stare for a couple seconds, a notion of the source of her sudden anger slowly dawning. So that's how it was, huh?
"Uh... you may not want it right this second, but trust me on this; you're gonna want to know what he had to say. Maybe not now, but someday- "
A sarcastic snort sounds from Jane's direction.
"Someday, you're gonna want to hear what he had to say 'cause he's family and family is weird like that," I toss the omni-tool back onto her bed. "Listen, I know how it is, my dad wasn't exactly winning best role model of the year either. Just... keep it, okay?" I trail off, not really knowing what else to say. I can't handle this much talking and teenage angst. It just wasn't me.
Jane doesn't respond, but she doesn't toss the omni-tool back either. Score one for the time traveler.
A huge yawn breaks through my defenses.
Anymore thoughts of the impending apocalypse, nightmares, emotions, fathers and everything else could wait a couple more hours. All that talking left me exhausted.
"Getting pretty tired. You should try to catch some sleep too."
I think I saw her shake her head, "No, not yet. Maybe later."
"Suit yourself," I yawn again.
"You remember your promise?" Jane asks and I think I hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.
"As if I'd forget. Quit worrying. Sleep. It's good for you."
I don't know what her response was, I nod off before she could say anything.
Turns out, sleeping was nigh impossible. The crack of a gun kept intruding in my dreams. If Jane noticed my fitful sleeping habits, she never said anything, or maybe she was dealing with them herself. I found myself hoping it was the former.
The subtle, but constant hum of the large mass effect engines of the cruiser was not helping my insomnia. I learned later that the patrol that picked up Jane and I, had reunited with a much larger ship. The SSV Einstein.
The next morning, (or whenever it was that the lights turned on in a ship's medbay) was filled with a lot of prodding and probing by doctors. None of which was appreciated.
After a brief examination, the head doctor stated that Jane had merely suffered from a some 1st degree burns, a few cuts and bruises, and a sprained ankle. She also had to be treated for exhaustion and was confined to the medbay for the rest of the day. I kept my promise and never said anything about her being a biotic.
I wasn't as lucky as Jane. The doc said it was a modern miracle that I was even functioning. Which just made me feel tons better after my sleep deprived night.
Apparently, I suffered from a couple 1st and 2nd degree burns in a few places, but the main concern was the large splotchy 3rd degree burn that was mostly concentrated along my back and left side. A broken rib had nicked an artery in my right lung, causing some eternal bleeding and making it hard to breath. Which would explain why I was coughing blood earlier. And I also had to be treated for a minor concussion and just plain overexertion.
The head doctor scolded me like a child (which I guess in this universe I was) about how lucky I was to be alive. All I could wonder the entire time was when had I gotten the concussion?
My continued existence wasn't even the biggest shock, what really took me by surprise was that the head doctor was none other than Doctor Karin-freaking-Chakwas.
"I swear children these days," The doctor mumbles grumpily as she stabs a tetanus vaccine directly into my arm and then dabs disinfectant on my cheek, causing me to give a slight wince of pain. Hell, this lady was almost as bad a Nurse Ratched. It's not like I go around trying to get myself banged up. I never even broken a bone before in my life. You know, prior to waking up on Mindoir.
Which reminds me, I have to check out whether this is another universe or if this is the future. If it was another universe, than that would mean that everything I left behind was still going on even if I wasn't there. But if it was the future... than everyone I know was dead. And that was a thought I really didn't want to entertain for very long.
"I honestly don't know what to say to you, young man," Chakwas sighed as she typed something on the datapad in her hands, "I've never met someone with the tenacity of a cockroach before."
Was that an insult or a compliment? It sounded like an insult.
"Can't you just wrap it in bandages or something?" I plead desperately. I liked hospitals about as much as the next guy, but the constant sterile feel of the air was a bit unsettling. I always felt like I should have some kind of terminal disease whenever I visited.
"No, I can not just 'wrap it in bandages or something'." Chakwas stated crossly, her face set into uncompromising stone.
"Well, how long is this gonna take?" I ask nervously eyeing a few of the surgical tools dangling overhead. Chakwas seems to notice my weariness.
"We discovered some anomalies in our initial test results." She glances up at me with a skeptical expression, "You're nearsighted and you have asthma, is that correct?"
"Yeah...?" I answer feeling a bit vulnerable under the older woman's gaze. I really wish they gave me something other than this hospital gown. Dammit, where did they put my jeans?
She shook her head and hands danced across the datapad, "Strange, both such defects are usually caught during infancy and quickly corrected." Chakwas sighed heavily as she continues sifting through the datapad, "I'm sorry, but what were your parents thinking? Many of your health problems stem from some very simple fixes."
"We never had the money," I muttered trying too avoid her piercing gaze. It wasn't a complete lie. Most of the money Dad and I earned was used to put Annie, Danny, Sammy, and myself through school.
Still, I felt bad. Chakwas was only trying to help but it's not like I could tell her I was from the 21st century where these were just regular health problems.
"You're in luck, than. We have much of the equipment to commence with the corrective surgery right here." Chakwas stated with a flourish and a coy smile, "It may just so happen that during the operation to repair your lung, we decide it is in your best interest to permanently fix your airways. And then while treating you for your concussion, we may accidentally realign your corneas."
"Can you do that? Won't your captain be mad?" I ask, "I'm pretty sure I don't have insurance."
"Young man, this is my medbay," Chakwas stated with huff, "I decide what my patients need, not the captain."
I blink in surprise. I had never pinned Dr. Chakwas as the rebellious sort. Seeing her with a few streaks of brown in her sliver hair was surprise enough.
"Listen, thanks and all, but I-"
"Young man, let me make myself perfectly clear." She placed her hands on her hips and her noticeably younger face, set into a menacing smile that instantly set off warning bells in my head.
Run, you poor fool! While you still have a chance!
"You take one step away from this bunk, and so help me, I will handcuff you to the bed!"
Laughter echoed across the room and even the nurses on duty slowed to chuckle. It took me a moment to realize it was Jane laughing. The sound was so carefree and foreign, it completely threw me for a loop. A tentative smile spreads across my face. It was the first time I heard her fully laugh since we met. She should laugh more often.
"Well?"
My attention focus back on the doctor tapping her foot impatiently on the floor in front of me, and I feel the color rush from my face, "Do we understand each other?"
I give a mute nod of apprehension, too petrified to say anything else, before rounding on where the sound of laughter was coming from. "I'm glad you find enjoyment in my agony." Seriously, were people in this universe just naturally more sadistic?
Dr. Chakwas clapped her hands together, suddenly all smiles. Dear Ghandi, this woman is terrifying.
"Excellent, just sign these forms here and we can get under way."
"Already?" I ask suddenly feeling very panicked, "Don't you have to, I don't know, prepare?"
"Hey doc. Do you fix crazy? Because he may have a few screws loose." Jane called out through the curtains as Chakwas chuckled and put on some rubber gloves.
"Crazy? I think I'm the only sane person here." This was the start of another very long day, wasn't it?
"Hey, anyone in there?"
I swat tiredly at the hand that tapped at my head. I felt even worse than the first time I woke up. But breathing I found was much easier than before. It was like there was an abundance of fresh air and I couldn't get enough of it. I crack open my eyes tiredly and I notice another difference. The world is so much clearer. It's like I'm wearing my glasses, only I don't feel them on my face. I rub at my eyes, but the medbay around me remains sharp and in focus in the fluorescent lights. No contacts then. What was this?
Oh, right. The surgery. The drugs must still be running their course, if I felt this groggy. Hadn't Chakwas said something about that?
"You awake yet, kid?"
A woman in a navy blue alliance jumpsuit sat back down in a chair by my side. Who was she? Another doctor or nurse? No, not the right uniform. A crewman? Her sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, tickled something in the back of my memory, but focusing on anything for more than two seconds was a challenge.
She couldn't have been anymore than twenty-seven...
I look over to ask Jane if she knows the stranger, only to see an empty bed. She's not there. The rest of the medbay is also empty. A cold feeling that had nothing to do with the drugs, washes over me.
"Ah, you're awake, good." She stuck out her hand. "Dr. Rachel Stewart, at your service."
I blink tiredly, still trying to process the first part of her sentence.
Doctor? Rachel Stewart? No, that wasn't quite right. I would swear up and down she looked familiar.
I give my head a shake to clear my thoughts, "Uh, hey. Sorry, guess I'm not thinking straight right now. Drugs and all. Where's Doctor Chakwas? And Jane? Oh, I'm Matt Carter, by the way." Damn, my tongue felt like sand paper, and I could really go for some food right about now.
"It's no trouble," Stewart said with a small grin, "Dr. Chakwas is helping Jane settle into the temporary living quarters that the captain provided. Which is perfect timing, since it is ideal that we are alone for your psych evaluation."
I maneuver myself into sitting up. Psych evaluation? Oh dear god, she's a shrink. That's worse than a doctor.
"My childhood was just dandy and I am perfectly sane." I quickly state in an attempt to derail the conversation right then and there. Something rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the drugs making me paranoid or maybe it had something to do with 'Rachel' looking so familiar, but this whole situation made me uneasy.
Stewart gave off a soft laugh, "Don't worry, this is just routine for trauma survivors. Ms. Shepard had the same treatment."
I call bullshit. Jane would have bitten your head if you tried to make her take a psych evaluation. I should know. I nearly lost my hand trying to give a jacket.
Man, I miss that jacket.
"You're probably hungry, huh?" Rachel grinned as she produced a tray of food seemingly out of thin air, "It's okay, Chakwas said you're cleared for solid foods from now on." she responds to my dubious look.
Well, suspicion or not, I wasn't about to turn down free food. I inhale the plate of spaghetti like a vacuum. It was the best food I've ever had.
"Now," Dr. Stewart said leaning back in her chair as I continued eating. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"I'm all ears," I respond around my water glass. This was nice. Maybe I was just being paranoid after all. Probably just an affect of the drugs. Needed to keep focused. Right after eating.
"Good. How 'bout telling me a bit about yourself?" Rachel asked.
"Not much to say really. I'm a virgo. Born and raised on Earth. I like night skies and long walks on the beach," a crooked smirk works it's way onto my face. "And I'm single."
A frown replaces the smirk, "Wait, did I say that last part all that out loud? Shit, sorry. I swear I'm usually not this much of an ass."
"Oh, you're adorable." The shrink said with a genuine grin.
Adorable? Alright, I'll take that compliment.
"Why don't we talk about you're family, if you feel up to it?"
"My family's alright. What do they have to do with my psych evaluation?"
The woman arched an eyebrow, "Weren't they on Mindoir during the attack?" I coughed violently as some food went down the wrong way, "And you might want to slow down before you choke."
I pound my chest weakly a couple times to clear my throat. She caught me off guard. Though, I did see the question coming up. Just didn't expect her to be so... blunt. Were all psychologists like that? "Uh, no. Like I said I grew up on Earth. They're still there, to the best of my knowledge." Technically true.
"So then how did you wind up on some backwater colony like Mindoir?" Familiar warning bells started ringing louder in my mind and that feeling that something was off became much stronger.
The question causes me to pause and chew my food a bit more slowly. C'mon brain, think! I'm better than this dammit! Something's... off. I just need to figure out what.
"Stupid grogginess..."
"What was that?"
"Left the family and hitched a ride." Again not a complete lie. I did leave home when I was eighteen.
"To Mindoir?" Her icy gaze bored holes into me, as the unsettling feeling of knowing her from someplace continued to gnaw at me.
Then I remembered where I had last seen her.
Dr. Phil, she was not.
"I never said I was a vacation planner." I lean, back in my pillow, "But then again, you're not a psychiatrist, are you?" 'Rachel' tensed in her seat.
I had to be careful from here on out. What was she even doing here? Of all the people to meet... Wasn't she supposed to be some Alliance science buff or officer or something? She specialized in technology and computers, if I'm remembering my lore correctly. So why was she posing as a psychiatrist? None of this made much sense.
The air seemed to still around us, the pause couldn't have been for more than a millisecond, but it was enough to confirm my suspicions.
"I'm afraid the medication must have you confused." 'Rachel' stated evenly.
"No, I'm thinking much clearer now, thank you very much." I respond with a sarcastic smirk. A psychiatrist wouldn't be so interested in how I ended up on Mindoir. "None of the questions you've asked me so far have anything to do with my mental health. So how about we start this over again. Hi, I'm Matthew Carter. What's your name?"
I needed to make sure it was her. It seemed like such a long shot. But still. The galaxy had already proven to be much smaller than expected.
I held my hand out for her to shake. She glanced at it for a long moment, before her eyes fixated on mine and an impromptu staring contest ensued. It took all my mental fortitude not to blink or look away. She was searching for something and I don't know what scared me more; her not finding whatever it was, or the exact opposite.
Apparently reaching a decision, she took my hand, "First Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders. And you are much more intuitive than I previously assumed. My apologies."
Good, now we were getting somewhere, "No harm done. If you don't mind me asking, what are you really doing here?"
Kahlee smiled, but the action never reached her eyes, "You seem to have garnered the interest of my superiors."
All I've done so far is get shot at. Not really an interest sparker. Than again, I was from about 150 years into the past. But they couldn't be talking about that, could they?
"I'm nothing special."
"True, but Naval Intelligence finds it curious that someone as old as yourself has survived so long with no official documentation to speak of."
Naval Intelligence? Were they... in the first game? No, that wasn't right. Sanders never mentioned anything about Naval Intelligence, to my knowledge. Actually any info on Sanders herself was scarce. In the games, you know she had something to do with Anderson during his trial to be a spectre, but that was about it. She just kind of disappears into the Alliance after that.
Guess this answers the question of what she was doing between then and Grissom Academy.
"What's the big deal? Maybe I like my privacy."
"You don't seem to understand, Naval Intelligence has the resources to find out what you had for breakfast five years ago. They can dig up anything on anyone. Family members. Place of birth. Bank accounts. School reports. Favorite color. Anything" Kahlee stated in a matter-o-fact tone. She seemed almost bored with the explanation. But her eyes never left my face. She was watching me. Judging how I would react.
Now that was an unnerving thought.
"What they don't have is any records on a certain 'Matthew Carter'." Kahlee concluded, dropping her bored expression and leaning forward with curiosity. "How did you manage that?"
"Like I said, my privacy is important to me."
"Let me rephrase my question; Why are there no records of you?"
"I don't know. My family and I never stayed in one place very long. We were always on the move." Blatant lie, but I didn't know what else to say in this situation.
Sanders gives me a piercing gaze, before shrugging, "You seem to have grown attached to Ms. Shepard, yes?"
The question comes so far out from left field it takes me a moment to comprehend what she's asking, "Jane? What's she got to do with any of this?"
Sanders shrugs again, "Naval Intelligence knows she's a biotic and that she entrusted you- and only you- with this knowledge." My blood turned to ice at the direction this conversation was heading. "It'd be a shame if her little secret got out and you were held accountable for exposing her. The Alliance is always looking for more biotics for their camps. They'd snatch her up in a heart beat."
"Thats not- You can't!" What the actual fuck?! How did they know all this? I just made that promise!
A sympathetic look passed through Sanders expression, "I wouldn't, kid. I'm just telling you how this would pan out if Naval Intelligence had their way. You're lucky I volunteered for this little interview and not some other operative. Not everyone is as friendly as I am."
I rub my eyes, trying to restart my heart after that little scare. I was in way over my head here.
"What do you want me to say? Cause I'll sing like a freaking bird if you want, just don't let anyone know Jane's a biotic." Maybe it was stupid, but for some ungodly reason, Jane trusted me, and that made me feel like I meant something in this universe. Like I wasn't just some cosmic fuck up. Besides that, I was steadfast to a fault. I may not be very good at much, but I was loyal to my friends.
"Nothing."
My head shoots up and I turn fully to face her. "What?"
Kahlee shrugs, "The point of this interview was to establish contact and determine whether you were a threat to the Alliance or not." She gives me a smirk, "Congratulations, you're as harmless as a rabbit. Naval Intelligence no longer sees you as a security risk. Now they're just curious. And that's much worse. Be careful. They'll be watching your every move from here on out. Cross referencing everything you say. You so much as sneeze and they'll know."
Sanders stands from her chair, and takes a step to leave before hesitating. Her expression becomes thoughtful before she turns back to me with an apologetic look, "Listen kid, for what it's worth, I just think you're someone who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. God knows I've been in my fair share of those situations before." She retrieves something from her pocket and tosses it onto my bed sheets. "I'll see you around."
And just like that, Sanders, along with the entire crisis, walked straight out of the medbay.
Did that just happen?
I glance down to see an omni-tool sitting innocently on the bed sheets. It's slightly larger in size than Martin Shepard's, but unmistakable in design.
I numbly reach for it, slipping it over my wrist. It opens with a flash of orange light, bright scrawling lines of text float above my arm. 'A gift, from us to you. We'll be in touch.'
Creepy motherfuckers.
Well, I probably wasn't going to get much sleep tonight anyways.
The month passed by in a blur. Sleeping never became much easier, but I learned to get by with a few hours here and there.
I know most people would kill to be in space, but at the time I was too busy watching my back like a hawk. I never saw Sanders again. I know it was a large ship, but the woman just fucking disappeared! It's like she was never even on board...
Creepy. Naval Intelligence. Motherfuckers.
In fact, the only evidence that the meeting/interrogation even happened was the omni-tool currently wrapped around my wrist.
Why did all secret agencies have to be so melodramatic? Why wasn't there ever an agency that just straight up told you that they would be stalking you for the next few years? It would not have made me feel any better, but I would have appreciated the thought.
I was confined to the medbay for most of the month, but Jane made for decent company. We never talked much about anything serious (The topic of Mindoir was avoided like the plague). I soon learned the hard way that she had a sliver wit and that it was extremely difficult to match her when it came to conversations. Luckily, I had sarcasm to fall back on.
Chakwas was also a constant. She dotted over Jane and I like a mother hen, even after Jane and I were both able to leave the medbay for our own quarters. The good doctor was the person who really helped me adjust to this whole transition, even if she didn't know it. She never balked at my questions or looked annoyed with my presence, even when it became painfully obvious I had no idea how to use a datapad or omni-tool. If there was ever a word to describe her, it would be motherly.
On slow days, she would teach me about the different medical equipment and how to treat different injuries, mostly bullet wounds. Though I had to promise Chakwas that I had no intention of getting shot at again.
And I was an eager student. The year was 2170, that means I had roughly twelve years before the events of the first game. Jane was already a powerhouse so I had a lot of catching up to do before I could even think about saving the galaxy. I would never be a great soldier; I sucked a taking orders and my experience with firearms was, unfortunately, lacking at the moment. Shotguns, sniper rifles, and maybe assault rifles, was the extent of my insight and I wasn't to sure on that last one. Mindoir kind of forced me to learn how to use an assault rifle and it was clear I still had a long way to go before I had any sort of accuracy with it.
I've only ever used shotguns and precision rifles when hunting with my dad. And I'm willing to bet, I was still only mediocre with the weapons. Needed to work on that.
That wasn't all I had to work on. During my down time, I threw myself at the omni-tool with fervor, learning everything I could through the extranet about different applications and uses. I'd probably never be Tali's level, but if I started now, I could end up being a fairly decent engineer. Just needed to learn how to use a data pad first...
Actually, it was through my browsing on the omni-tool that I realized what I could excel at.
Combat Medic. I've done my research on the extranet and the Alliance was always looking for more able bodied medics. I could do that. Maybe. And hell, I don't recall the Normandy ever having a medic. Thus the lessons with the good doctor became a daily occurrence. She wasn't particularly happy with my career choice, but she didn't argue.
Chakwas's method of teaching was extremely simplified, which was greatly appreciated. It reminded me a bit of my first aid training. It was easy and straightforward. Here's the wound. This is how you treat it.
"Medi-gel is all well and good, but you can only carry around so much at a time." Chakwas lectured towards Jane and I. Well, mostly me. Jane was staring out the viewport of the medbay, looking a thousand miles away, with her father's omni-tool wrapped around her wrist. I couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on in that head of hers, but the way I figured it, she didn't want anybody comforting or disturbing her while she dealt with her own personal demons. That's not to say I wasn't there for her. If she ever needed me, I'd be right here.
I blame my older brother complex for causing me to care so much.
"Needles, tourniquets, stitches, disinfectant. These are the types of items you should always have on you during combat." Chakwas glanced at Jane with veiled worry before her attention diverted back to me, "Often times, a tourniquet will save a life better than medi-gel ever could."
"Sickness and disease are another thing you always have to be careful of, while in the field. Most are vaccinated against, but there are some cases where you might have to take precautionary measures." I wonder if I should be taking notes. Was there gonna be a test later?
All too soon, our time aboard the cruiser came to a close.
The SSV Einstein hung suspended over Earth. The tiny blue and green planet filled the bridge's main viewport. I could use my hand to block out the view, but at that moment, I didn't feel much like a giant. I felt very very small.
"Where do you think they'll send us?"
I turn back my attention to Jane. We would have to report to the hanger in an hour. I was not looking forward to saying goodbye to Chakwas, she was a really nice lady, and I owed her. Not only for patching me up, but also for the lessons. She gave me a few reading materials to look over on my omni-tool and made me promise to keep up my studies.
"Depends, I guess." I say with a shrug, "I don't have any family that'll claim me, so I'll probably get shipped off to some orphanage. How 'bout you? Any relatives?"
Jane shakes her head, her face broody and pensive. That's a negative.
I give her a wide grin, "Eh, look on the bright side, shorty; you'll have me as company. I'm great company."
Jane sends me sharp glare, but it's ruined when a small smirk tugs at her mouth. She turns and checks my shoulder slightly, "Guess I'll have to put up with you for a little while longer, boy scout." She leaves before I can come up with something clever.
I turn back to viewport, pressing my hand slightly against it to block out the planet. It wasn't my Earth. I knew that much from the extranet. It was about the same timeline up until the twenty-first century, but after that things get hectic. It looked the same, but it wasn't.
I wasn't supposed to be here.
Not my Earth.
I heave a heavy sigh.
I'm not getting home anytime soon, am I?
AN: Really sorry about not updating sooner, ladies and gentlemen. Got sidetracked with studying and then had to deal with the website not saving my chapter for some reason. And then this chapter took an odd turn. And blah blah blah excuses.
Also, special thanks to Richard Caine for his correspondence. He was huge help when I needed some time to organize my thoughts on where this fic was going.
I'd also like to thank all those that either reviewed, followed, and/or favorite this story (Cake Of Spades: I do, in fact, know the muffin man. He lives on Drury Lane). You guys inspire me to keep writing. And I hope to improve my writing style with each review.
You people are just amazing.
Thanks again!
-Solas Nocturne