Chapter Text
Hackett had aged. His face was etched with pain, his shoulders bore a weight that no person, especially at his age, should have to carry. The war was draining the hope from him, just as it was draining life from the galaxy.
“Shepard, what you've accomplished is monumental. I never thought I’d live to see a partnership between the turians and the krogan. It offers... a fraction of hope.”
“Thank you, sir. It needed to be done. Failure wasn’t an option,” Jane responded humbly, knowing that this was only the beginning and there were still countless battles ahead.
“I’m glad it’s you leading the charge, Commander. What are your next plans?”
“Securing the quarians’ support. Their fleet has a real chance against the enemy forces.”
“Good. But before you proceed with that, I have another mission for you. It shouldn’t take long.”
“I’m listening, sir.”
“It’s about Cerberus. An inside informant has tipped us off about a secret station of theirs, where they’re likely conducting human experiments.”
“Bastards.”
“That station is orbiting Jupiter. Jupiter! Right under our noses. I’ll transmit the coordinates. Good luck, Shepard. Don’t let up on Cerberus. Hackett out.”
The hologram flickered off, leaving Jane alone with her thoughts and a vague sense that this mission would be far more than routine.
***
The lights glowed with a harsh, arctic whiteness. The corridor was empty, suspiciously empty, and the footsteps of Jane, Garrus, and James echoed off the dreary, gray walls.
“They’re hiding, those motherfuckers,” Vega whispered, emphasizing the last word. “They’ve locked up the labs with unbreakable encryption, not showing a damn thing about what they’ve got in there.”
“Quiet, James,” Garrus silenced him, catching a faint sound with his turian senses. “They’re coming.”
Two guards emerged from one of the rooms. Their armor looked old, ill-fitting, damaged in places. It seemed Cerberus hadn’t invested much in this station… or no one had anticipated an attack. No one had expected Shepard.
“Drop your weapons on the floor,” Shepard commanded, her voice loud, firm, and threatening. “If you want to live.”
Then something happened that shouldn’t have been possible on a Cerberus station. The guards dropped their outdated rifles at Shepard and her team’s feet. The metal clattered against the floor. Something was off. Typically, the Illusive Man’s soldiers fought fiercely, to the end.
“What’s going on here? What is this station?” Shepard continued, her pistol still raised. A few steps behind her, Garrus and James stood poised, weapons drawn, ready to turn both guards into a mess of shattered armor and blood.
“A… research station. We conduct research here,” said the first guard, bolder than the other but clearly intimidated by the Commander’s presence.
“What kind of research?”
“It’s not my concern. We’re just here to keep watch. That’s what we’re paid for. I have a wife. Kids…”
“What kind of research? Human experiments?”
“No. Not on humans. You… should speak to Professor.”
“Who’s the professor? Name.”
“Professor Ellen Vowels. Molecular biology professor.”
“Why aren’t you fighting? Not defending the station?” Garrus cut in, sensing that something was clearly wrong, suspecting a trap.
“We’re not paid to fight. Just to watch the scientists. Make sure they don’t run off. Don’t start a mutiny. I won’t fight. I have a wife. Kids.”
“If you won’t fight, take us to Vowels,” Shepard demanded, determined to find out what exactly was happening in this desolate, empty place.
The guards led them through a maze of claustrophobic rooms. In some, windows opened out to a view of Jupiter, suspended in the black void, cloaked in its eternal storms.
***
They found Professor Vowels in a large room near the far end of the station. She was a petite woman in her fifties with hair dyed bright pink. When she saw the Commander, she broke into a wide smile, despite having a gun aimed at her. Her two young assistants, a man and a woman, did not share her courage and hid behind the tables when they saw the three fully armed soldiers entering their territory.
“Shepard! My dear. I pieced you back together when you were dead and breathed life into your cells. And now you’re pointing a gun at me? It’s almost like wanting to kill your own parent.”
“What is this station, Vowels? What research are you conducting here? Experiments on humans?”
“Experiments? Yes. On humans? Absolutely not. Who do you take me for, Shepard?”
“You’re with Cerberus. Whatever you’re up to here, it’s not good. And I’m under orders to find out what it is and shut it down. You’ve caused enough damage already.”
“Bringing you back to life was damage, too, Shepard? Think about what would have happened if—”
“SILENCE! EVERYONE!” Garrus suddenly shouted, interrupting the sharp exchange. As silence fell over the lab, they all heard a soft sound filling every sterile corner of the room.
A desperate cry, like a wounded chick’s squeal, and at the same time, the wail of pain.
"What the hell, Vowels," Shepard growled. "What are you keeping in there?"
The professor pointed to the left side of the room, hidden behind a thick hospital curtain.
“By all means, feel free to behold my masterpiece, the result of my most meticulous research, the culmination of my wildest hypotheses, the ones no one else dared to believe in. Witness the breakthrough, the new era, the key to winning this war.”
Commander shot her a look of pure distrust, which Vowels met with a smile. The assistants finally dared to step out of their hiding spots, realizing that no firefight was about to break out.
Jane, Garrus, and James stepped behind the curtain, the shrill cry piercing their ears. On the other side of the lab, a massive table was set up, bathed in light from a row of lamps, surrounded by terminals through which a torrent of data was streaming.
And when the three of them looked at the table, their hearts stopped for a moment.
“A… A child…” James whispered, his voice trembling as it never had before.
Jane and Garrus exchanged a horrified glance.
Blue eyes, deeply set—turian eyes. But the tears flowing from them—entirely human. A turian face, with turian mandibles, but ending in human lips. Turian fringe, human hair, fiery red, cut to shoulder length. The skin, in some places turian, tough and rough, in others human, smooth and delicate. A human hand, five fingers, but ending in turian claws. A small body, clad in a hospital gown, connected to a mess of cables and machines. A little girl, around three years old, with pain etched in her eyes.
“A hybrid,” the professor explained proudly, “a human-turian hybrid, combining the best traits of both species. In a few years, she’ll be the perfect soldier. A killing machine. She only needs to be raised for combat and cruelty. She’ll be unstoppable. Do you think it was easy for me to handle two projects at once? Your resurrection and the development of this hybrid? It wasn’t easy, but the work of a scientist requires sacrifice…”
But she didn’t finish, because Garrus grabbed her, lifting her up and slamming her brutally against the wall, his grip around her throat so tight that only a strangled gasp escaped her lips.
“I’ll kill you, Vowels,” Vakarian snarled. “I’ll crush your skull against the wall. And then Satan will drag you straight to hell for what you’ve done.”
“Garrus, wait,” Jane said calmly, though it was clear she was struggling to control her emotions. Garrus stopped choking the professor, but he didn’t release her.
“Vowels, why did you do this? Why are you torturing this child? You lied to me about not conducting human experiments here, and I don’t like being lied to,” Shepard’s voice was cold.
“This isn’t a human. It’s a hybrid.”
“That’s a child,” Garrus snarled at the professor, dangerously close to finishing her off.
“Why are you torturing her, Vowels? All these cables, these harsh lights, these experiments—what is this for? She should have parents, be held in someone’s arms,” Shepard continued, desperate for answers.
“This is research. I have to study her. I need to know if her organs are functioning properly. It’s not that simple, Shepard. She has to be perfect. I can’t risk her suddenly dying from multi-organ failure…”
“How many more children like her are there?”
“Just her. Not counting the ones who died prematurely due to genetic errors or malformed organs…”
Garrus’s mandibles trembled, and he was already on the verge of explosion. He held Vowels, looking at her with a fury and hatred Jane never would have imagined from him.
“You’re going to kill me? Just like that?” the professor asked without a trace of fear. “I could be an asset to the Alliance. I could create an army of super-soldiers for you, like you, Shepard.”
“No, Vowels. You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to live. I won’t allow what’s happened here to ever be repeated. Garrus…do it.”
Vowels’s scream echoed through the room. Garrus made her feel what it was to die.
***
The remaining scientists and guards, heeding Shepard's threats, were resolute in ending their cooperation with Cerberus and leaving the station. They agreed to join the Alliance, which would protect them if Cerberus ever decided to come after the deserters. Garrus was so emotional he wanted to kill every single person involved in these monstrous experiments, but Shepard managed to talk him down.
Now they all stood together—Jane, James, and Garrus—by the large table illuminated by overhead lights. The little girl didn’t even seem to notice them; her gaze was tired and empty, fixed on the ceiling. It was that sight that seemed to tear Garrus’s heart apart the most.
"We can’t leave her here," Jane said slowly. "We’ll take her to the ship. Let Chakwas examine her."
“Shepard…” Vega began hesitantly. “Wouldn’t it be better for her if she…didn’t have to keep suffering? Didn’t have to keep living in this world?”
“Don’t even think about it, Vega. Especially not while I’m standing here,” Garrus warned, clenching his fists.
“Do all turians have such a strong parental instinct?”
“Both of you, shut up and help me,” Shepard interrupted, leaning over the child.
They struggled to detach all the electrodes and remove the IV from her tiny hand. The child didn’t resist, indifferent to everything. Shepard wrapped her carefully in an emergency blanket she found in one of the cabinets, and Garrus gently took her in his arms. They headed back to the ship in silence, letting the quiet serve as a summary of everything that had happened on this small station nestled near Jupiter.
Chapter Text
Dr. Chakwas examined the child with great care and empathy, making sure not to traumatize her any further. The little girl shed a few tears at first, frightened by the sudden change in environment, but, too exhausted to wail, she simply gazed around the med bay with her blue eyes, filled with fear.
“This is unbelievable. Incredible. In my lifetime, I’ve seen so much, heard hundreds of astonishing stories... but this is a miracle. A miracle that this little one is alive, that she’s breathing. How did they… how did they manage it?” The doctor was still in shock at what lay before her.
“I’ll find out,” Liara replied from the other side, seated with EDI at the terminal, sifting through the terabytes of files that Shepard had taken from the base.
“Chakwas, is... is the child healthy?” Garrus finally asked, clearly unsettled by the whole situation.
“All indications suggest she’s healthier than either you or I.”
“Are you sure she has no injuries? It looks like they tortured her,” Shepard added, as concerned as Garrus.
“She’s traumatized—that’s evident—but thank God, she wasn’t beaten or mutilated.”
The med bay doors slid open with a hiss, and Javik materialized in the room, his gaze severe and skeptical.
“This is the child?” he asked rhetorically, approaching the bed to look down at the little girl. “This is an abomination. It never should have been created. You should have killed it—and even if you don’t, it will probably die within a few years anyway.”
“What did you just say?!” Garrus nearly leapt from his seat, charging toward the Prothean and grabbing him by the suit.
“Javik, get out,” Shepard commanded sharply.
“I can go where I please,” Javik replied, locking eyes with the furious Garrus.
“No, you can’t,” Garrus hissed, pulling him toward the exit.
But Javik didn’t like being manhandled and yanked himself free.
“Vakarian, don’t get attached to this child; it’s an artificial creation doomed to wither…”
Garrus lunged at the Prothean, fists flying, their shouts filling the room. Hearing the strange, terrifying sounds, the little girl began to cry and curled up on the bed in fear, hiding her face in her small hands.
Shepard pulled Garrus and Javik apart and forcibly pushed Javik out of the med bay.
“Don’t let me see you for the rest of the day,” she warned, shutting the doors in his face.
Jane looked at Garrus, who was clearly struggling with guilt over disturbing the child’s peace. She ran her hand over his shoulder in a silent gesture of forgiveness.
“I’m sorry,” the turian whispered quietly.
The commander walked over to the little girl, who Chakwas and Liara were trying, unsuccessfully, to comfort.
“Doctor, if the examinations are done, this child needs to be taken somewhere quiet, where there aren’t any harsh lights, where… the crew won’t disturb her,” Jane said.
“The Port Observation?” EDI suggested.
“No. My cabin.” Shepard felt an overwhelming, inexplicable urge to protect this child, to hold her, to rock her to sleep.
“You sure, Shepard? I can take care of her,” Liara offered. But Jane didn’t want to entrust the girl to anyone else; she trusted only herself and Garrus.
“The exams are finished,” the doctor confirmed. “All that’s left now is for me to analyze the data.”
“Garrus, take her,” Shepard commanded. The turian gently picked up the trembling child, who was still sniffling.
“Shhh, little bird, the sun’s still shining and the sky’s deep blue,” Garrus hummed softly, rocking the child as they stood in the elevator.
“Little bird? What’s that?” Shepard asked.
“An old turian song sung to calm a frightened child,” he explained.
They finally arrived in her cabin, bathed in the soft blue glow from the fish tank. The girl wasn’t crying anymore but was still breathing heavily.
“C… Cold,” she said quietly, uncertainly.
Garrus and Jane exchanged glances of both surprise and relief. The fact that she had learned to speak and communicate her needs despite the environment she’d been in was a positive sign.
Shepard pulled a soft, plush blanket from the drawer under the bed, and together with Garrus, they wrapped the child tightly, then sat her on the bed.
"Is that good, sweetheart? Are you warm?" Jane asked, gently stroking the little girl’s hair, trying to surround her with comfort and affection she’d never known before.
"Soft," the girl replied, still uncertain, as she snuggled into the blanket.
"You need sleep, little bird. Are you sleepy?" Garrus asked softly, but the child didn’t answer; she just looked up at him, as if trying to understand his intentions.
"She doesn’t understand you; she only knows English," Jane noted. "She’s still too young for a translator implant."
"She’s half turian. I’d… I’d like her to know Palaven’s language," Garrus said, a hint of longing in his voice.
"Maybe… you’ll have the chance to teach her," Jane replied, and then repeated Garrus's question in English.
The little girl looked at her and grasped the sleeve of her sweatshirt with a small hand.
“Stay with me?” she asked simply, her voice trembling.
“Yes, sweetheart, we’ll be here. You can sleep peacefully,” Jane assured her.
Soon, the child finally closed her eyes and began breathing evenly, tightly wrapped in the blanket. Garrus and Jane sat across from each other at the small table, both watching over the little one, who, despite her unfortunate past, now had the luck to be under the protection of the Normandy’s crew.
“She’s so small,” Garrus observed. “Isn’t she too small for her age?”
“Hmm… I don’t think anyone knows how… how such a new… such a new species is supposed to develop,” Shepard replied, at a loss for words for a situation so extraordinary and delicate.
They both fell silent, absorbed in their own, strangely similar thoughts. If the union of humans and turians was possible… did it mean they could one day hope for a child of their own? Someday, after the war, when the dust of battle had settled? Would such advanced genetic engineering for creating hybrids ever be made widely available, giving hope to human-turian couples? Or would it be abused, twisted toward darker purposes? What else did Cerberus hide in its shadowed stations scattered across the galaxy? What else, or who else, were they experimenting on?
Unspoken questions lingered in the air like dust motes.
“I need to file a report with Hackett,” Jane said slowly, breaking the painful silence. “I have to tell him about the child.”
“And… I need to report to the Primarch,” Garrus replied, just as reluctantly, struggling with the words. “The Turian Hierarchy will find out… and maybe some will want to… dispose of her. Because… because she ‘taints’ our species.”
Jane took his hand.
“Garrus. We won’t let that happen. She’ll live. We’ll find her a place in this galaxy.”
“Jane, do you feel it too?” he asked, his gaze intense. “Something is telling me to protect her at all costs, to keep her safe from Cerberus, from the Reapers, from the Alliance, from the Turian Hierarchy, from every evil in this universe.”
“Yes. I feel it too.” She looked deeply into Garrus’s eyes, as if trying to see into every corner of his heart. “Garrus, have you… ever thought about having children with me? Has that thought ever crossed your mind?”
Garrus’s mandibles twitched.
“Yes, Jane. I have had that thought. Those thoughts.”
Silence again. Their fingers intertwined.
“They’ll take her to experiment on her. Alliance or Turian Hierarchy, I mean. They won’t be any better than Cerberus… Maybe even worse,” his voice trembled.
“Garrus, don’t think… For now, she’s safe with us…”
“Shepard, may I come in? I brought food for you both,” EDI’s voice echoed through the cabin.
“Yes, come in,” replied Shepard, “but quietly. The little one’s sleeping.”
The doors slid open, and EDI entered, bringing them steaming meals. She wished them an enjoyable meal and left. They ate slowly, each acutely aware of their emotions. They didn’t return to the difficult conversation; after finishing, they played a few rounds of chess and then discussed topics of little importance.
***
Jane and Garrus nearly jumped in their seats when a child’s cry, filled with pain and fear, pierced the cabin. The little girl was thrashing around in the blanket, trapped in a terrifying dream.
“What must they have done to her that she can’t sleep without nightmares?” Shepard felt her heart breaking yet again that day.
They both sat on the bed and gently woke the child, who was trembling and breathing heavily, as if she’d just run a long, exhausting race.
“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re safe,” Jane held her arms out to the girl, ready to comfort her. But instead, the girl climbed onto Garrus’s lap—he had been the one to carry her before, and she had come to associate him with safety. She gripped his clothing tightly, hid her face in his shoulder, and cried softly.
“Hey, little one,” Garrus began to rock her gently, softly humming a turian lullaby. Shepard was surprised to hear such tenderness in his voice; she hadn’t known turians could sing this way.
Shhh, little bird, the sun’s still shining and the sky’s deep blue;
Rest now among blooming trees in your safe hideout;
The wind will sing for you to soothe your fears;
And when darkness falls, you’ll reach the stars.
Though the girl didn’t understand the words, Garrus’s tone was calming and soothing. Had she ever felt warmth like this before? Had any of the scientists shown her even a bit of kindness?
As the child’s sobs began to quiet, her breathing softened, and curiosity flickered in her eyes. She glanced up at Garrus’s face, hesitating for a moment, as if unsure whether it was safe to reach out. But then, with the smallest hint of trust, she lifted her hand and traced her fingers along the edges of his face, exploring his mandibles with wide, cautious eyes. She had probably never seen a turian before, yet she quickly recognized Garrus as one of her own.
Shepard felt a surge of warmth at the sight, her heart swelling. Seeing Garrus respond with such care, watching the little girl find comfort in his presence—these were moments she hadn’t known she needed.
The girl then pointed to his visor, her gaze filled with both wonder and caution.
“What is that?” she asked, her voice still quiet and uncertain.
“That’s a visor, sweetheart,” Shepard explained, “through it, you can see things that are invisible.”
“It’s visor, little bird,” Garrus repeated, hoping the child would begin to familiarize herself with the turian language.
“Do you want to look through it?” Jane asked warmly. When the girl nodded, she gently took the visor from Garrus’s face and held it up to the child’s right eye.
“You red now!” the little one said in awe.
Garrus chuckled.
“Thermal vision mode.”
For a moment, everything was okay. There was no war, no Cerberus—just the three of them, as if they were a family, as if the hybrid girl were their own child.
“Hungry,” the child tugged on Garrus’s sleeve.
“Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jane promised, though a shadow of worry crossed her face. What kind of food should they give her to ensure it wouldn’t harm her?
They headed to the elevator, Garrus still carrying the little one close.
“Is she levo or dextro-amino-based?” Garrus asked in a quiet, concerned voice.
“Chakwas will know for sure.”
Chapter Text
On their way to the med bay, they ran into Liara, whose expression made it clear she had something very important to share.
“Commander... I was just coming to find you. We’ve analyzed Cerberus’s data and research notes. There’s something you need to know.”
“Liara, is it good news or bad news?” Shepard pressed.
“That’s not for me to decide. Come, let’s go to the doctor.”
When they entered the med bay, the girl shrank in fear in Garrus’s arms. The sterile environment brought back memories of invasive experiments, pain, and fear.
“Chakwas, what’s this important information we need to know?” Shepard, usually patient, felt something in her urging her forward.
“Shepard,” the doctor met her eyes directly, “it’s about…”
“First,” EDI interrupted, wanting to explain the situation clearly, “we’ve determined how Cerberus managed to create the hybrid. They transcribed the turian genome into a human equivalent. They translated it, like languages are translated. They created levo-amino-based versions of turian genes and combined them with human ones. Incredible bioengineering. The exact method they used to create this translation key is still a mystery.”
“Bastards. They must have experimented on countless humans and turians,” Garrus muttered, rocking the frightened child in his arms.
“They didn’t necessarily have to experiment on living subjects. It could have been done with samples alone.”
“Let’s hope that’s true.”
“And… we know where they sourced the genetic material,” Chakwas added, her voice uncertain. “We know the girl’s biological parents.”
“Who are they?” Shepard asked logically. “If they’re not from Cerberus, we should return the child to them.”
Chakwas looked at Liara. Liara looked at EDI. EDI turned to Shepard.
“Commander, the child was partially created from your genome. You’re her biological mother.”
It was a rare sight to see Shepard utterly shocked, at a loss for words.
“What?! Why?! How is this possible?! How could they even…?” Shepard began pacing nervously around the room. “And the turian father?”
“He’s here with us as well. Garrus, it seems your daughter already trusts you…”
Garrus took a deep breath, his mandibles splaying in shock before clamping down tightly, his entire body going rigid. Words failed him; instead, he clutched the child closer, his mind reeling.
“HOW DID THEY GET OUR GENETIC MATERIAL?!” Shepard’s voice rose with the question hanging heavily in the air.
“Shepard,” EDI began again, “the child is two and a half years old. Three and a half years ago, Cerberus started the Project Lazarus and had an abundant supply of your genetic material. However, we wondered how they managed to obtain Garrus’s DNA during that time. The answer is actually simple—they stole it from C-Sec. You had genetic records there, right, Garrus?”
“Why?” Garrus asked in a faint voice, “Why us?”
“They wanted to create a super-soldier,” Liara explained, her tone filled with concern. “There’s no question that Shepard proved herself as one when she defeated Saren. Cerberus wanted to add turian genes to that mix, but naturally, it wasn’t ideal to use a random turian’s genes… They needed someone who also had the potential for being a super-soldier. Someone close to Shepard. And on the Normandy crew, there was only one turian…”
“This is a dream,” Jane said, clutching her head. “It’s a dream, or maybe I’ve got a fever and I’m hallucinating. We’re all hallucinating this madness.”
But it was true. Everything fit together like a child’s puzzle. The girl had Jane’s red hair, Garrus’s blue eyes. Had she inherited their fighting spirit too? For now, she only cowered timidly in Garrus’s arms, watching the adults talk, absorbing their emotions.
“What can she eat?” Garrus finally asked, breaking a long, heavy silence.
“Levo-amino-based food. Give her some of the carrot soup left in the big pot,” Chakwas replied practically.
Without another word, Garrus left. Shepard sat down on one of the med bay beds, hiding her face in her hands. Liara sat beside her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you and Garrus. For your relationship…”
“This… It’s all wrong. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen… Garrus wanted a family with me, but… Not like this! Not this way!”
“Shepard…”
“I’m going to the toilet,” Jane said, standing up abruptly and ran out of the med bay.
***
"Open wide, one more spoonful," Garrus fed the child slowly and carefully, and she devoured the soup as if she’d never tasted anything so delicious. And, in truth, that might have been the case—Garrus suspected they’d fed her bland protein mush in the lab.
“You need to grow up big and strong, okay? You need to be like… like your Mom.” The last word barely made it past his throat, his voice thick with a feeling he hadn’t expected.
The hybrid girl was so small and defenseless; the thin hospital gown hung loosely on her slight frame, her large eyes fixed on Garrus, absorbing every word and taking in the new language. She was a fragile creature, shaped by a harsh life, desperately seeking warmth and safety. He brushed his thumb lightly over her hand, feeling a fierce determination settle in his chest.
“She’s picked you as her safe person,” came a voice from behind. James had come into the kitchen earlier to grab something cold from the fridge. “Pretty sure she’s not letting you go now.”
“Vega… Has Liara, EDI and Chakwas told you yet what they found out about her?”
“No, is it serious?”
“The child’s mine and Shepard’s. Cerberus created her from our genetic material. They were raising her to be a super-soldier.”
“Wow, man. I don’t even know what to say…”
“You don’t have to say anything, Vega.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What any father should. Protect her.”
“Cerberus will try to take her back.”
At the mention of Cerberus, Garrus instinctively pulled the little girl closer to him.
“Yeah. Let them try. I’ll wipe them all out.”
James stepped closer, wanting to greet the child.
“Hey there, little one,” he extended his hand, but the girl shrank back and buried her face in Garrus’s chest.
“Don’t scare her,” murmured Garrus.
“Alright, alright, I’ll give you some space, little one,” James said, backing off with a soft chuckle. “Uncle James will just have to earn your trust, huh?”
Shepard entered the kitchen, looking as though she was waging a series of internal battles; her gaze was unfocused, her expression vacant.
“Garrus,” she began quietly, “take the child and come with me to the Comm Room.”
“Jane? Are you calling Hackett?”
“Anderson. We need to show her to him.”
As they walked through the ship’s corridors, they passed various crew members who cast concerned glances at the strange child— a product of cold bioengineering and ruthless calculation. Surely by now, everyone had heard and was forming their own theories. Surely soon, the whole galaxy would know.
When Anderson’s image flickered to life on the hologram, the signal from Earth was unstable, but his steady gaze met hers.
“Admiral,” Jane saluted.
“Shepard. Good to see you. Congratulations on the successful mission on Tuchanka. Good afternoon, Vakarian. What do you have there with you? A turian child?”
“A human-turian child,” Garrus corrected him.
“Come again?”
Jane began to explain. She spoke of how Hackett had given her a seemingly straightforward mission, of the cold corridors in a forgotten station near Jupiter. She described the brazen biologist Vowels and her plans to create a super-soldier from turian and human genes. She spoke of the crying child, hooked up to machines by countless cables, and of their rescue. But when she reached the part about the genetic data they’d found, her hands began to shake.
“She’s ours, mine and Garrus’s… of our blood… We’re responsible for her… Admiral, if this damn war were over, we could have a child, but now? Right in the middle of this chaos, with enemies around every corner?” A single tear slipped down Jane’s face, followed by a second, a third, a fourth.
“This should never have happened,” Garrus continued, his grip on the child tightening as his voice strained with emotion. “It shouldn’t be that someone can create our biological child without our consent, then experiment on her like she’s just a piece of meat! It shouldn’t be that we then find this child in some filthy hellhole, tortured and crying! It shouldn’t… It shouldn’t…”
With tears streaming down her face, Jane reached toward Garrus, wrapping one arm around the little girl he was holding and placing the other around his neck. For a moment, they all clung to each other, desperately seeking comfort and hope in each other’s presence.
Anderson looked at them, at Shepard—like a daughter to him—and felt an overwhelming surge of compassion and deep concern for her and her new family. He had never seen her cry, let alone cry like this, so vulnerable and lost.
“If only I could, I’d be there with you,” Anderson said softly, feeling his stomach twist into knots. “Please, protect this child.”
Shepard lifted her face from Garrus, wiping her cheeks as she turned back to the admiral. Her eyes were red, shadowed, and filled with a vulnerability he’d rarely seen.
“The Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy will have to be informed. But then… they’ll try to take her from us. They’ll want to keep experimenting on her, to get their hands on the hybrid technology…” Jane finally voiced her deepest fear.
“No one has the right to take her from you. She’s yours and only yours. If anyone causes trouble, contact me immediately, Shepard. I’ll help however I can.”
“Thank you,” Shepard replied softly, filled with gratitude.
“Does the little one have a name?” Anderson asked, his gaze settling on the child nestled in Garrus’s arms.
“Not yet… They didn’t give her a name. They treated her like a lab rat… not like a human, not like a turian,” Jane’s words came slowly, drained by the weight of the day.
“Choose something beautiful for her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She has your hair, Shepard,” he said, a hint of joy in his voice.
“And Garrus’s eyes. Blue like Earth’s sky.”
“Let’s hope she gets to see it one day. We’ll rebuild Earth for her. And Palaven,” Anderson promised, pushing away the darkest thoughts. “Protect her. Anderson out.”
Chapter Text
The workday aboard the Normandy was winding down, and it was time to rest. Jane and Garrus hoped the girl could spend the night in the med bay, under the watchful eye of Dr. Chakwas, but when they brought her there, the child flatly refused to be separated from Garrus. She screamed, cried, and stretched out her little arms toward the turian. She had chosen him as her protector and guardian and wanted only to be with him — she accepted Shepard to a certain degree as well, perhaps instinctively sensing the close bond between the two, or maybe even subconsciously knowing that they were her parents.
"I can’t bring myself to take her from you," Chakwas said, her heart breaking at the sight of the distressed child. "It’s better if she sleeps with you. Maybe she won’t have nightmares."
When they returned to the captain's cabin, Shepard felt an overwhelming fatigue washing over her, making her legs weak beneath her. The day’s events had drained her in a way few battles ever had.
"You okay, Jane?" Garrus asked, noticing how she was starting to drift.
“Just tired,” she replied, managing a faint smile. “What are we going to do now, Garrus? We don’t have anything for a child. No clothes, no toys, no crib—not even a toothbrush.”
"Tomorrow, we’ll go to the Citadel and get everything. It’ll be fine if she doesn’t brush her teeth for one day. And... Jane? Have you thought of a name for her yet?"
Jane looked at Garrus, then at the small figure nestled in his arms.
"Not yet. Do you have any suggestions?"
Garrus looked from Shepard to the little one in his arms. “Jane… I... I’d like her to be named after my mother. Novia. It's the name of a type of tree on Palaven that can grow back even after being cut down to the stump."
"That’s a beautiful name. Then she’ll be Novia Vakarian."
“No. Novia Shepard.”
"But why?"
“You’re my commander, Jane. My hero. My hope. I want our child to carry your name,” he said softly, his voice filled with conviction.
Their eyes met for a moment. Jane’s tired gaze glowed with gratitude, while Garrus’s shone with pure love.
“Hey, little one, come here a minute.” Shepard reached for the child, lifting her from Garrus’s tired arms and setting her down on the bed. “Let’s talk, okay?”
“Okay,” Novia replied, wrapping her tiny hand around Jane’s finger.
“Your name is Novia Shepard,” Jane said, her voice warm. “I’m your mom. And this is your dad,” she added, gesturing to Garrus, who sat on the other side of the child, brushing a hand gently over her red hair. “We’re your parents, and we love you.”
Novia absorbed this new information, her little mandibles twitching with curiosity. Garrus repeated the same words in the turian language, his voice a soft rumble.
“We’re on a ship called the Normandy,” Shepard continued. “Novia, everyone here will be kind to you, and you don’t have to be afraid of anyone, okay?”
Novia didn’t answer with words, but she leaned against Jane’s side, wrapping a small hand around Jane’s arm as if accepting everything she’d said.
“It’s time to sleep now, sweetheart,” Jane said softly, kissing her daughter’s forehead. Garrus wrapped her snugly in a blanket.
As the room filled with a quiet, calming warmth, Novia drifted to sleep, nestled safely between her new parents, surrounded by love for the first time in her young life. The soft hum of the Normandy created a lullaby, carrying them all into a peaceful silence.
***
The next day, Joker landed the Normandy at the Citadel. Shepard had hoped for a big shopping trip with Garrus so they could pick the best things for their child together. But Novia refused to be separated from her father, crying and wailing every time he disappeared from sight, even if it was just to head to the bathroom or review reports from the Primarch. So they decided Garrus would stay with her and slowly introduce her to other crew members. Jane chose Samantha as her shopping companion and sent Kaidan and James on a mission to find and bring back a crib.
She and Samantha found a large store brimming with items for children of all species and stopped at the clothing section, staring at a wall covered in every type of garment imaginable.
“How do you even choose clothes for kids?” Shepard asked, at a loss.
“I. Have. No. Clue!” Traynor replied, dramatically emphasizing each word. “Oh, look at this one—it’s adorable!”
Samantha pulled out a tiny outfit, shimmering with every color under the sun and glittering with sparkles. Shepard ran her hand over the material, raising an eyebrow.
“Come on, that’s pure polyester. It won’t breathe at all.
“But it’s so pretty…” Samantha’s eyes sparkled as she imagined how it would look on Novia.
“It’s not supposed to be pretty—it’s supposed to be practical.”
“Hmm…”
Samantha dashed between the aisles, selecting the most colorful and sparkly outfits, while Shepard, chuckling to herself, sorted through softer cottons and warmer clothes. She chose a few onesies, two cozy sweaters—Novia had been cold on the Normandy—and was looking for socks when Samantha came barreling over, her basket overflowing.
“Shepard, Shepard, you have to see this!” Samantha held up an outrageously pink princess outfit complete with a giant headband resembling a crown.
“Samantha…” Jane shook her head but couldn’t hold back a laugh. The sight was just too over-the-top, and she imagined Garrus’s reaction. “I’m not sure ‘princess’ is really in Garrus’s vocabulary.”
“She deserves to be a princess! The Princess of the Normandy,” Samantha declared, placing a hand over her heart with feigned reverence.
Shepard smirked. “Auntie Samantha’s going to spoil her so much she’ll start acting like one.”
Their next stop was the toy section. Jane was determined to get Novia some building blocks, having heard somewhere that they stimulate brain development. Garrus had also requested that they find a stuffed animal reminiscent of Palaven for the little girl. Of course, they also needed books in both languages. And a toothbrush that lights up and plays music.
Choosing toys completely absorbed her, and she quickly lost track of Samantha. Shepard tossed a large set of colorful blocks into the cart, along with a miniature keyboard for playing music, a plush giraffe, and a few books about Earth animals, planets, and species from across the galaxy. She made sure to add the most cheerful, musical toothbrush available. Moving to the turian section, she scanned a large shelf filled with stuffed animals depicting unfamiliar creatures.
After a moment’s thought, she picked one that looked similar to an Earth reindeer, but with a mighty, double set of antlers that seemed to symbolize strength and resilience. She also found some children’s books with story titles in exotic turian script and picked a few with the most captivating illustrations.
When she was finished, she went to look for Samantha, who seemed to have vanished. Jane paid for her purchases at the counter and stepped outside the store to scan the area. She was about to call Samantha over comms when she spotted her friend making her way through the promenade, visibly struggling under the weight of an enormous, rainbow-colored stuffed unicorn.
“Samantha, you’ve lost your mind!” Shepard exclaimed, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement.
“It’s a gift for the princess of the Normandy from Auntie Samantha!” Samantha announced with a playful wink.
People passing by turned their heads, many turians and asari observing with a mix of curiosity and amusement, as if expecting the unicorn to come to life and start galloping through the Citadel.
“Samantha, that horse is four times bigger than Novia. She might be terrified of it.”
Samantha laughed, giving the unicorn an affectionate squeeze. “She won’t be! It’s soft. And rainbow-colored. And, come on, every princess needs a unicorn! Alright, Shepard, let’s go before I find something else I absolutely can’t resist.”
***
Garrus carried Novia in his arms, moving slowly as he introduced her to each room on the Normandy, speaking in a calm, gentle voice. The crew members greeted her with warm looks and kind smiles, though she was still a bit wary of them. She was especially cautious around Doctor Chakwas, Liara, and EDI, instinctively shrinking away when they tried to approach. The med bay and tests were still fresh in her mind, and each time, she clutched Garrus’s clothing tightly, hiding her face.
Now, he brought her to the bridge, where Joker was busy scanning the system for malfunctions. Lines and numbers scrolled across the terminal screens.
“This is the bridge,” Garrus explained softly, “where Uncle Joker flies the Normandy.”
“Hey, Garrus. And hey to you too... Mini Garrus,” Joker greeted the little girl cheerfully, with a wide grin.
Garrus chuckled at the nickname. Mini Garrus. A little version of himself, a miniature copy. He felt warmth spread through his chest at the thought.
“She’s you, through and through—well, except for a bit of Shepard up top, thanks to that hair,” Joker continued. “Hey, little one, you hear that? You’re just like your dad.”
Novia eyed Joker warily, her bright turian eyes filled with uncertainty as she looked at the human with the strange cap.
“She’s still a little scared,” Garrus said gently. “For now, it’s mostly just me and Jane.”
“I know just the thing to win her over to Uncle Jeff,” Joker replied, pulling a small paper bag filled with fruit from under his seat.
“What’s that?” Garrus asked, eyeing it with suspicion.
“Tangerines. Earth fruit. I bet she’s never had anything like this before. Cerberus probably didn’t spring for vitamin C.” Joker peeled the first tangerine, breaking off a piece and holding it out to Novia.
She pulled back, looking uncertainly at the piece in his hand.
“Maybe I should give it to her,” Garrus offered. Taking the piece of fruit, he showed it to Novia. “Go ahead, little bird, you can eat it.”
At last, she took the tangerine from his fingers, bringing it to her mouth and tasting it. Her eyes lit up, and Garrus felt his heart swell at her expression.
Joker handed her another piece, and this time she didn’t pull back, taking it right from his hand.
“Uncle Joker knows what’s good, right?” Joker teased, beaming with pride.
“Uncle… O-oker,” she repeated. Garrus’s mandibles flared slightly; hearing her say anything was a victory.
Novia happily ate a few pieces of the tangerine, and then, to both their surprise, she even let Joker lift her and gently place her on the pilot’s seat.
“Do you like the Normandy?” Joker asked, his tone encouraging and soft, trying to coax her into speaking.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Can you say ‘Normandy’?”
After a few moments, she gave it a try. “No-oa-ndy.”
Garrus and Joker laughed, their voices echoing through the bridge with warmth, and Novia watched them closely, her mandibles twitching in what might have been a human-turian smile. For the first time, Garrus thought he saw joy in her expression—maybe her first smile ever.
***
When Shepard returned from shopping, she found Garrus sitting with Novia on the couch in the crew quarters, showing her something on a datapad.
“Hello, honey,” he greeted as she entered, hauling in large bags. “Need a hand getting all that to the cabin? Looks heavy.”
Upon seeing Shepard, Novia scrambled off the couch, clumsily toddling over and raising her little arms, silently asking for a hug.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Shepard set the bags on the floor and scooped her up, hugging her tightly as Novia nestled into her arms. “Garrus, my shopping is nothing. Just wait till you see what Samantha brought.”
She sat down beside Garrus, keeping Novia on her lap, and leaned over to give him a gentle kiss on his mandible.
At that moment, Traynor entered, awkwardly maneuvering the giant unicorn into the room, clearly struggling under its size.
“What… is that?” Garrus stared at the rainbow-colored plush creature in disbelief.
“A gift from Auntie Samantha.” Traynor set the unicorn on the couch, where it barely fit, its rainbow mane nearly spilling off the side. “Do you like it, Novia?”
Novia’s eyes went wide with wonder as she glanced at Samantha for confirmation. When Samantha nodded, she threw herself onto the unicorn, burying her face in its soft neck.
“Pony! Pony! Pony!”
Garrus chuckled, trying to keep a straight face as he surveyed the oversized creature. “I don’t know how that giant’s going to fit in the cabin. We’ll need to rent an entire ranch for this thing! Did you consider its combat capabilities, Traynor?”
Samantha grinned. “The princess of the Normandy deserves her own unicorn.”
Shepard laughed, savoring the moment as Novia squealed with happiness, wrapped around her new toy. The weight of the war felt distant, and for a brief moment, everything seemed perfect—as if they could really be a family here, surrounded by laughter and love. But a flicker of duty pulled her back to reality; Hackett was pressing her for a report.
Chapter Text
Jane felt her heart pounding like a drum, her hands trembling. She clenched them tightly, digging her nails into her skin.
"Admiral, I can't give her up. This child has been through hell. She cries at just the sight of Dr. Chakwas and the med bay. I can't imagine the kinds of tests they performed on her. I won’t allow any more experiments on her, not even for the so-called good of humanity," she said, her voice fierce but laced with the pain she was struggling to keep under control.
Hackett looked at her with tired, sorrowful eyes.
"Shepard," he began, his voice heavy, "I’m not in favor of separating families. But the existence of this child… it could destabilize the galactic order."
"There is no galactic order anymore. This is total war."
"Yes, and that’s why we can’t afford to jeopardize our diplomatic relations with the turians. We need to thoroughly investigate the technology behind this and ensure that no one can use it... in morally questionable ways."
Shepard took a deep breath, so deep it hurt her lungs.
"I’ll transmit all the files we found in the Cerberus base," she said slowly. "Every detail… is in there. But please, don’t take her from me." Her voice was almost pleading, and each word seemed to sap her strength.
Hackett studied her, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes that was almost swallowed by duty.
"Does the Turian Hierarchy know about the child yet?"
"Before our call, Garrus informed the Primarch."
"What was the outcome of that conversation?"
"General Victus wants to meet with us and Alliance representatives before any decisions are made."
"I’ll meet with him aboard the Normandy, ideally tomorrow. I’ll fly to the Citadel. We’ll see this child in person and… try to agree on the next steps. Inform the Primarch."
"Yes, sir."
"And, Shepard?"
"Yes?"
“Take care of this child.” His words held a tone of reluctant understanding. "Hackett out."
The admiral’s image disappeared, leaving Jane alone with her thoughts and the anxiety that twisted in her stomach.
***
"Novia, sweetie, you can’t sleep with the pony—it’s too big," Shepard gently laid the child in her crib, tucking her in with the blanket. "He’ll wait right here beside you, okay?"
Novia nodded, though a bit reluctantly. The giant unicorn had completely captured her heart, though she liked the other toys too. Garrus and Jane spent the evening with Novia, building towers and pyramids from blocks, with the most fun coming from knocking them down. Little sparks of joy danced in the child’s blue eyes.
"Goodnight," Garrus said in his turian language, gently stroking Novia’s head, and she repeated the word, not perfectly but still clearly enough. Jane smiled at Garrus, seeing how full of pride and happiness he was.
The girl fell asleep quickly, snuggling her stuffed Palaven reindeer.
Jane sat on the bed, her mind swirling. The last forty-eight hours had been like a surreal dream that faded with the first sip of morning coffee.
“What’s on your mind?” Garrus sat beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Garrus... she... she feels like a gift from fate. The child we were never supposed to have. But at what cost? The cost of her suffering? The cost of... her brothers and sisters, who didn’t survive?” Shepard’s voice broke, a lump forming in her throat at the thought of the other children who didn’t make it.
“Jane, my love…” Garrus stroked her back gently. “My mother taught me that when we encounter evil, our duty is to turn it into something good. Novia exists because of the cruel experiments of a group that we ought to drive from this galaxy. We can’t undo that. But we can give her a life filled with happiness and peace. Even if we have to fight Cerberus and then the Reapers with our bare hands. Even if we have to go to hell and back again.”
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the child sleep peacefully, unaware of the carnage happening in the world she’d been born into.
“May she never remember what Cerberus did to her. May she never remember this war, and may she never know any other,” Jane murmured her wish, and they both silently prayed the universe might allow it to come true.
“They’re coming for her tomorrow,” Garrus whispered, his voice trembling as he thought about Hackett and Victus, bound by their military duty.
"It’s just negotiations. They’re only here to see her," Shepard tried to reassure him, but she didn’t fully believe her own words.
"Many in the Turian Hierarchy still look down on humanity. They may see Novia’s existence as... a violation of the natural order. A genetic invasion of our species. They may even demand proof that she’s not some… genetic threat to the turian kind.”
“But maybe there are those who’ll see her as... a bridge. A reason to work together.”
“Which side will be larger?”
“It’s not about numbers; it’s about who will be louder.”
Garrus pondered Shepard’s words for a moment.
“Jane, what do you think humans will think of Novia?”
“Just like the turians. Some conservatives won’t be thrilled. But many people have open minds.”
“At the core, we’re not so different from each other, are we?”
“We’re not different at all, Garrus.”
***
On the deck of the Normandy, in the conference room, two leaders from different species met each other’s eyes and exchanged a firm handshake.
Shepard held great respect for both Hackett and Victus, but now she felt nothing but reluctance and a growing mistrust. In the light of the recent events, anything could happen during this upcoming conversation, and the admiral and the general might no longer be inclined to support her.
They took their seats at the table, and Jane handed them datapads containing the data extracted from the station near Jupiter. Hackett and Victus began to review the information in silence, a silence that rang painfully in Jane’s ears.
“So they created levo-amino-based versions of turian genes and combined them with human ones… You’d have to be a madman to come up with an idea like this,” Victus summarized, setting down the datapad.
“And a dangerous madman to actually carry it out,” added Hackett.
Deep down, Shepard felt a pang of shame that individuals as deranged as Cerberus could in any way represent humanity. That shame doubled when she remembered that the Normandy had once flown under Cerberus’s flag.
“May we see the child?” the Primarch finally asked the question Jane had dreaded, as if fearing they might take her away then and there.
“Yes, General.”
She summoned Garrus over the comm. A moment later, the doors opened, and Garrus entered, carrying the little girl nestled against him. He set her gently on the table so that Hackett and Victus could get a better look at her.
There was a long moment of silence as the admiral and the Primarch processed what they were seeing. The child’s wary eyes shifted between the two leaders, as if sensing a potential threat.
“She’s just a turian with hair,” Victus said slowly.
“No, she’s not. Look at her face—human features, soft skin,” Hackett countered.
“A human face? She has mandibles! Her face is entirely turian.”
“Look at her nose. Her lips. Her ears—those are all human.”
“She has a fringe.”
“And a whole lot of hair in between, too.”
“With all due respect, Admiral, look at her hands—they’re completely turian, with talons.”
“But she has five fingers!”
“Her eyes are pure turian, just like her father’s.”
“And she has eyebrows and eyelashes! General, she’s also levo-amino-based—don’t forget that.”
“What about her teeth?” The Primarch reached out to open her jaw as though she were an animal being given a pill.
“Leave her alone!” Jane shouted, as Garrus swiftly pulled the girl back into his arms. Novia buried her face in Garrus’s shoulder, her small hands clutching him, her body shaking with fear. She didn’t understand what was happening, only that these strangers were assessing her like something strange and wrong. Jane’s heart shattered at the sight, guilt burning as she realized that, despite her efforts to protect Novia, she had still led her into this moment.
“No one is to lay a hand on her. She’s not some lab animal for you to poke and prod,” Garrus warned, his voice low and fierce, unfazed by the fact that he was addressing two officers far higher in rank.
“It doesn’t matter what her teeth look like or how her face appears. Genetically, she’s both human and turian. She belongs to both worlds, not ‘more’ one or the other,” Shepard added, her voice laced with anger toward the two leaders and her own rising tension.
An awkward, heavy silence settled over the room. Jane felt the weight of motherhood bearing down on her like a massive boulder, as if the entire galaxy was conspiring to take her child away. Just her and Garrus, battling the whole universe—against Cerberus, against the Reapers, against the Alliance, against the Turian Hierarchy, and against who knew what else.
"I’ve assembled a team of scientists who can study the child and examine the biotechnology that Cerberus used," Hackett said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "Above all, we need to ensure that the knowledge of how to create a hybrid child doesn’t leak out to any corporations. If that were to happen… very bad things could follow. For now, perhaps it’s best not to reveal her existence to the galaxy."
“With all due respect, Admiral, and with all due respect to Commander Shepard,” Victus began, “humanity has already done enough harm to this child. She would be better off under turian care. We’ll ensure she’s safe, study her, and we can find her a proper family…”
“She has a family,” Shepard snapped, furious at the general’s words, “and she doesn’t need another.”
“Commander,” the Primarch said, meeting her gaze directly, “you’re a soldier, a Spectre, undertaking missions, fighting battles, traveling through some of the most dangerous parts of the galaxy. Are you planning to do all that with a small child on board? How do you intend to keep her safe when you could fall in battle at any moment? She needs stability, parents who are available to her. On Palaven…”
“Palaven is burning!” Garrus interrupted, a clear breach of turian military protocol. “Earth is burning! There’s no stability left out there! Only here, on the Normandy, will she be safe, protected by every member of this crew. Only here will she be loved.”
“I believe this… hybrid…” Hackett began, hesitantly.
“She’s not a ‘hybrid’!” Shepard cut him off fiercely. “Her name is Novia Shepard, and she thinks and feels just as you do, Admiral. She is my and Garrus’s child. And a child belongs with her parents.”
“Shepard, you’re not being rational right now; your emotions are clouding your judgment. She may be made from your and Vakarian’s genetic material, but that doesn’t make you her parents. You didn’t bring her into this world; you didn’t plan for her,” Victus argued, but immediately regretted it when he saw the fury in Jane’s and Garrus’s eyes.
"We helped you, Victus," Jane spoke quietly, but the fury in her words was palpable, her fists clenched tightly. "We sent krogan armies to Palaven for you. We helped rebuild relations with the krogan. We helped you. And now this is how you treat us? No, we didn’t plan for Novia. Cerberus created her. But we saved her, and she is made from our blood. We’re responsible for her. And we accept that responsibility."
The primarch was taken aback by Shepard’s words, visibly shamed and disoriented. Little Novia clung tightly to Garrus, her head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, as if trying to block out the world and the charged emotions flying through the air—an instinct she’d developed under Cerberus’s painful experiments. Garrus gently rocked her, more to soothe himself than the child.
“Shepard, you talk about responsibility. A responsible parent doesn’t expose their child to space battles and the threat of Reapers,” Hackett dared to interject. “The Alliance can protect her from all of that. We can protect her from Cerberus. They will come after her, Shepard. Are you ready to face that?”
“A responsible parent doesn’t hand their child over to just anyone,” Shepard replied, and Hackett’s face betrayed a flicker of surprise. “Admiral, I don’t know who these scientists of yours are, or how they will treat Novia. But I suspect it will be no better than how Cerberus did."
“I am not, nor have I ever been, your enemy, Shepard,” the admiral insisted, his voice steady. “Everything I do is for humanity’s sake. And now, Commander, you have to choose. Will you continue to serve humanity? Will you do what is best for it?”
“Serving humanity can make you lose everything human in yourself,” Jane said, feeling her strength waning as the discussion wore on. “I haven’t lost my humanity, Admiral, because it drives me to protect my child, my family. Admiral, General… if anyone tries to take Novia from me, then I’m done. I’ll quit. To hell with saving the galaxy. I don’t care about the Crucible. I don’t care about securing support from the quarians, the asari, the salarians, or any damn batarians. I’ll throw it all away, and Normandy can sit in a museum. You won’t have a patsy for your dirty work anymore.”
These words left Hackett and Victus speechless. Shepard, feeling her legs go weak, buried her face in her hands, trying to shut out the world for just ten seconds—a world that kept throwing obstacles in her path.
“Mom, you sad?” Novia asked, lifting her head from her father’s shoulder after hearing Jane’s upset tone. “Dad, is Mom sad?”
Garrus’s mandibles twitched, his eyes reflecting both surprise and pride. He shared a glance with Shepard, both struck by the fact that Novia had just called them “Mom” and “Dad.” It happened far sooner than they had expected; this child was so deeply in need of warmth and love.
“Novia, sweetheart,” Shepard began, her voice breaking slightly, “Mom is fighting for you. Mom is protecting you.”
She stepped over to Garrus and Novia, wrapping them both tightly in her arms. In that moment, she didn’t care about Hackett and Victus still standing there, silently weighing every word she’d said. All she wanted was to be with Garrus and their daughter, to savor the simple yet powerful acceptance from Novia.
As they embraced, Garrus whispered, “We’re both here for you, little bird. We’re not going anywhere.”
Chapter Text
Hackett and Victus had suffered a resounding defeat. It was clear that neither the Alliance nor the Turian Hierarchy would take custody of the child. Shepard had agreed only to send the admiral and Primarch all of Cerberus's files and to conduct regular health checks and reports on Novia’s well-being.
The Normandy had stopped briefly at the Citadel to allow the crew to restock and refuel. The next day, they were set to head for the Tikkun system, where the quarians were locked in combat with the geth. Shepard had received several desperate messages from Tali, pleading for help. She couldn’t delay any longer.
“Garrus, I’m going to need you on this upcoming mission. Your technical skills will be essential against the geth,” Jane said, watching as Novia created odd, joyful melodies on her miniature keyboard.
“Jane, I need to stay with her. She struggles even with short separations. Take EDI instead of me; she can handle it,” Garrus replied, placing his hand over Jane’s.
“Samantha could stay with her. Novia’s liked her ever since she got that unicorn.”
“These upcoming days are critical. Novia needs both of us, you and me. We can’t leave her alone with the memories of that Cerberus station. We need to give her new, better ones. We need to help her forget.”
“All right. I’ll go with EDI and Kaidan or Liara.”
A knock sounded on their cabin door.
“Commander, may I come in? I need to speak with both of you,” Jane heard Javik’s voice over the comm.
The door slid open, and the Prothean entered, his skeptical gaze lingering on Novia.
“We need to talk. But not in front of the hybrid. She understands more than you think. She senses things.”
Garrus gave him a dark, warning look.
“Novia, stay here for a moment and keep playing. Mom and Dad will be right back, okay? We’ll just be outside,” Jane said gently.
“You come back?” the girl asked, her voice full of worry.
“We’ll be back in five minutes.”
They stepped out into the narrow hallway just outside the cabin.
“What do you want, Javik? Make it quick,” Garrus said, distrustful, worried that the Prothean harbored ill intentions toward their child.
“Commander, I believe that you are no longer fit to command this ship or carry out any mission.”
“Excuse me?!” Shepard thought for a moment she’d misheard.
“You dare question her abilities? After everything she’s done for the galaxy?” Garrus’s anger at Javik grew with each word from the Prothean.
“I do. Ever since that mutated child has been on board, your emotions have spiraled out of control. Your hormones are in chaos. Shepard, you may deceive Hackett, you may deceive the Primarch, but you won’t deceive an ancient Prothean. Neither of you is capable of carrying out military duties anymore. You’ve deluded yourselves into thinking this child is yours simply because she carries your genes. She is not yours. Shepard, you didn’t give birth to her. She is an artificial creation from a lab, soulless.”
“Get the hell out of here, Javik, before I knock your teeth in,” Garrus hissed, feeling a fire of pure rage igniting in every cell of his body.
“I’m not going to argue with you, Javik. I’ve had enough. I just finished explaining myself to Hackett and Victus, justifying the most basic human instinct—to protect one’s own child. I’m done. If you can’t accept Novia’s presence on this ship, if you can’t respect my command, then leave. Go, and don’t come back. Don’t show your face to me again.”
“The galaxy is descending into chaos once more. This cycle is lost. And the next one will be too. And the one after that. It will go on until the stars themselves burn out.”
And with that, the Prothean vanished into the elevator, leaving Jane and Garrus with hearts pounding from the intensity of the exchange.
An hour later, during dinner in the crew quarters, Shepard asked Liara if Javik had actually left the Normandy.
“No. He’s holed up in life support, brooding and snapping at anyone who comes near him, like a rabid varren. Shepard, if Javik is causing you any trouble, just say the word. I’ll set him straight.”
“Of course, Liara, he only listens to you—you’re the only one who could actually do that,” Shepard replied with a smile, then recounted the conversation with the Prothean.
“He’s... a bit old-fashioned. Very traditional.”
“Hard not to notice.”
“But deep down, he’s actually very afraid. He’s afraid for the galaxy. He’s already seen it fall once. He couldn’t bear to see it happen again. Shepard, he won’t admit it, but he believes in you. He’s just scared that this child will distract you from the mission.”
“Novia won’t distract me from the mission. She gives me strength and motivation to fight for her future. For a galaxy without any wars.”
“I know, Shepard.”
***
Novia woke again in the middle of the night, crying out. She thrashed in her blanket, haunted once more by the things she’d experienced on the Cerberus station.
Jane and Garrus, jolted awake by their child’s cries, leapt up to help her.
“Shhh, Novia, it’s okay, Mom’s here, Dad’s here…”
“Shhh, little bird, the sun’s still shining, and the sky’s deep blue…”
The little girl didn’t respond, breathing rapidly and shallowly. Garrus lifted her out of her crib, and she clung to him desperately, her tiny hands clutching at his chest as if he were her only anchor in a storm.
“Novia, look, the pony is right here,” Jane said, holding the huge stuffed toy, trying to pull Novia’s focus away from the ghosts of the past, but it was no use. Novia was too overwhelmed by memories that never should have been made.
“Jane… she’s trembling so much,” Garrus whispered, his voice breaking, his mandibles flaring with helplessness. He’d never felt so powerless—not even on the battlefield. He was her father, meant to protect her from the world, and yet he could only watch as her tiny body shook, consumed by nightmares he couldn’t fight off.
They sat together on the bed, holding each other close and speaking softly to Novia, trying to soothe her. Minutes passed, but she continued to cry and shake.
“Mom… Dad… I scared,” she finally managed to say between sobs. “I scared!”
Jane’s heart broke. She was terrified—terrified that she wasn’t ready to be a mother to Novia, that she didn’t know how to calm her pain or chase away her fear. Shepard was a super-soldier, she’d faced fear a thousand times, but what do you do when it’s your child who is afraid?
“You’re safe here, Novia. You’re with us. Everything’s going to be alright,” Jane assured her, gently stroking her hair.
But even as she whispered those words, the weight of Hackett’s warning settled heavily on her mind: They will come after her, Shepard.
“Novia,” Garrus began softly, “when you’re a bit older, you’ll get to see Palaven. You’ll see how big the sky is and how incredibly blue. There’s a sun and two moons, and on their surfaces, you can see craters. You’ll see grass, soft and green, with tiny bugs scurrying around. You’ll see trees, tall ones, taller than the ceiling on any ship. And we’ll go up into the mountains too; you’ll see how white their peaks are, covered in snow…” He paused, lowering his voice to a determined whisper. “One day, we’ll walk under those moons together, just the three of us. I’ll make sure of it.”
Novia’s sobs gradually quieted, her breathing slowed. When she’d finally settled, Garrus attempted to lay her back down in her crib, but she refused to let go of him.
“Bad people come,” she whispered fearfully.
“Garrus, she’s too scared—let her sleep with us tonight,” Jane said softly.
They laid her down between them, wrapping her snugly in the blanket.
“Mom, hug,” Novia murmured, and Jane held her close, keeping her in her arms until she fell asleep, her tiny fingers curled tightly around Jane’s arm, even in slumber.
Garrus wrapped an arm protectively around them both, his touch gentle yet unwavering. Closing his eyes, he offered a silent, fervent prayer to the Spirits: Please, give me the strength to protect the woman and the child I love. Holding his family close, the intensity of his prayer softened as he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
But Jane lay awake for a long time, haunted by the countless ways everything could still go wrong.
Chapter Text
Jane stood on the bridge, watching Joker and EDI, their fingers dancing across the glowing terminals. The Normandy was racing through space-time like a horse on a racetrack.
“Jump through the mass relay successful. We’re in the Tikkun system. What’s the next command, Commander?” Joker asked, his eyes fixed on the monitor.
“Patch me through to Tali. She’s waiting for us.”
“Sure thing, Shepard.”
EDI attempted to establish a connection, scanning through dozens of frequencies. On every one, there was only static and crackling. Shepard felt her stomach tighten; her instincts told her something was wrong.
“Commander, the quarians aren’t responding,” EDI reported, still trying to contact the flotilla.
“And they won’t respond,” an unfamiliar, commanding voice echoed across the bridge. “Greetings, Shepard.”
“What the heck? Who the hell are you?” Shepard’s heart began to pound. The voice she heard wasn’t quarian.
“Shepard, your ship is surrounded. I suggest you surrender,” the voice continued, followed by a sinister laugh.
“Joker, EDI, confirm this,” Shepard commanded.
“Commander…” Joker began, “Look…”
He scanned the space surrounding the Normandy and displayed it on the hologram. The facts were clear—they were tightly surrounded by a small fleet of destroyers and frigates. Shepard immediately understood what had happened. They had walked straight into a trap trying to help the quarians.
“Who are you? Identify yourself,” she pressed, forcing herself to remain calm.
“Officer Étienne Dufort, Cerberus. Shepard, my soldiers are about to board your ship.”
“No way! Normandy is sealed!”
A mocking, ominous laugh.
“Shepard, the Normandy was created by us. Do you really think we wouldn’t know how to hack its access points? Surrender and hand over what belongs to us, and we’ll leave peacefully. Then you can fly off to rescue your quarian friends.”
“Commander, intruders on the ship!” Kaidan burst onto the bridge like a missile. “No one’s ready for a fight!”
The crew’s armor and weapons were stored deep in lockers—no one had anticipated an attack. Jane remembered Hackett’s warning words. She should have seen this coming. She should have guessed. She should have…
“Commander, what do we do?” Kaidan asked, his voice tense.
“Kaidan, you take command and go negotiate with them,” Shepard ordered, then bolted off the bridge in a panic. In every dangerous mission or crisis, she had always kept her cool, but now panic was overtaking her.
She sprinted through the ship and jumped into the elevator.
“Garrus!” she yelled when she finally reached the capitan’s cabin. “They’re here! They’ve come for her!”
Garrus was sitting on the bed, reading a turian picture book to Novia. Both looked up at Shepard’s sudden entrance, alarmed.
“What? Who?” Garrus asked, his voice full of questions, the grim truth not yet dawning on him.
“Cerberus! They’ve surrounded us! They’ve boarded the ship!”
“Mom? What happen?” Novia clenched Garrus’s hand tightly, sensing Jane’s fear.
“Then we have to fight!” Garrus said firmly, holding the child close. “I’m going to fight.”
“Garrus, none of us have had time to arm ourselves. No one’s prepared… We’re surrounded by at least fifteen Cerberus ships…”
Both fell silent, weighing the gravity of the situation.
“Mom! Dad!” Novia called out, demanding their attention.
Shepard dropped to her knees beside them, cupping Novia’s face in her hands. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Some bad people have come, but Dad and I are going to protect you. We promise.” Her voice wavered, betraying the fear she was trying to suppress.
Novia didn’t respond, clinging tighter to her father, her glassy eyes reflecting her growing fear.
“If they’re taking her, then I’m going with her,” Garrus said softly but resolutely.
“So am I,” Jane replied. “If they’re taking us, it’ll be all of us together. I’m not leaving you behind.”
Shepard sat down next to Garrus and gently wiped the first tear from Novia’s cheek. The little girl wasn’t wailing; she was crying quietly, instinctively understanding that making noise might attract the attention of the bad guys.
The silence between them stretched painfully, broken only by Novia’s uneven breaths. Garrus stroked her hair gently, murmuring soothing words in turian, words she might not fully understand but that carried the warmth of safety.
Then the sound of voices and heavy footsteps shattered the fragile moment.
The doors hissed open, revealing three heavily armed Cerberus troops, their rifles immediately aimed at Jane and Garrus.
“Commander, hand over the hybrid, and we’ll let you go,” one of them ordered, his voice cold and mechanical.
Garrus’s instincts screamed for him to fight. Every fiber of his being itched to lash out, to protect his family, even if it meant using his bare hands. But his rational side stopped him—if he attacked, Novia would lose her father forever.
Shepard stood and fixed her gaze on the troop demanding the child.
“If you’re taking her, we’re going too. All of us. That’s non-negotiable,” she said firmly, doing her best to hide her fear.
The troop hesitated, then spoke into his comm.
“Boss, I’m bringing you the hybrid… along with Shepard and Vakarian.”
Whatever the response was, it must have satisfied him.
“Shepard, hands behind your back. No tricks. Tell your turian to carry the kid, and let’s go.”
Garrus’s mandibles twitched in suppressed anger. “Where are you taking us?” he growled.
“Move, or I’ll give you a reason to regret asking.” One of the troops stepped forward, aiming his rifle directly at Novia.
“Mom… Dad…” Novia whispered, her voice barely audible, her small frame trembling in Garrus’s arms.
“It’s okay, my little bird. Dad’s here,” Garrus murmured, his voice low and steady. But inside, his heart felt like it was breaking.
They were marched across the Normandy, surrounded by their captors, who barked warnings at the slightest hint of suspicious movement. Shepard’s gaze scanned her crew—helpless, subdued by the remaining troops. Her eyes met Kaidan’s, filled with sorrow deeper than words.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” Kaidan began, his voice heavy with shame. “I couldn’t—”
A sharp kick to his shin from one of the mercenaries silenced him.
Shepard clenched her fists, swallowing the fury rising in her chest. No blood had been spilled yet, but the sight of her crew brought a fresh wave of guilt. This was her ship, her responsibility. She should have seen this coming.
The troops forced them onto the shuttle. Its interior was cold and metallic.
“Mom… Dad… I scared,” Novia whimpered, clutching Garrus tightly.
Garrus pressed his forehead gently against hers. “Shhh, little one. Dad’s here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Then Jane leaned in, kissing Novia’s forehead and whispering, “We’re with you, sweetheart. Always.”
As the shuttle pulled away, the Normandy grew smaller in the viewport.
Chapter Text
They docked with one of Cerberus's larger ships. The shuttle doors opened, revealing the ship's interior—sterile, grim, foreboding. Troops prodded Garrus and Jane with the butts of their rifles.
"Out. Now," one of them growled.
Jane and Garrus didn’t protest. They stepped out onto the deck, their eyes scanning their surroundings. Shepard’s instincts kicked in—memorize the corridors, count the guards, note every exit. They’d need this information if they had any hope of escape.
The soldiers led them through a dimly lit corridor, into an elevator, and down another corridor that ended at a set of massive doors.
"Inside," barked one of the guards.
The room beyond was furnished for someone with a penchant for opulence—old-fashioned furniture, thick rugs that probably trapped far too much dust. Jane and Garrus now stood on one of those ornate carpets, staring at the man seated behind a desk that looked like it had been stolen from a museum.
One wall was adorned with various weapons from centuries past, while another was dominated by an oversized cabinet overflowing with figurines, antique tableware, trophies, and other symbols of a decadent lifestyle.
"You can’t imagine how much joy it brings me to see you again," the man behind the desk said, rising slightly. His uniform was immaculate, every detail perfect. His pale skin hinted at years spent under artificial lights, and his neatly styled light brown hair framed a strikingly handsome face, sharp and clean-shaven. His piercing blue eyes sparkled with calculated charm, and his smile—broad and gleaming white—revealed the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to wield his looks like a weapon.
"It’s wonderful that you’ve decided to work for Cerberus once more, Jane," he added smoothly, his gaze briefly flicking to Garrus with an air of amused superiority.
"It’s Commander Shepard to you," Jane replied, her tone sharp and warning. "And I will NOT work for you."
"No? That’s terribly unfortunate. In that case, I suppose I’ll have to separate you from your child and toss you off the ship. And I’m not a fan of breaking up families, especially one as charming as yours! A human mommy, a turian daddy, and that delightful little oddity."
"Who the hell are you?" Garrus demanded, his voice low and menacing as he held Novia close. She buried her face into his shoulder, trying to shut out a world that seemed determined to threaten her once again.
"Garrus, forgive me for my utter lack of manners. I’m Étienne Dufort, an officer of Cerberus. You’re aboard my ship. How do you like it?"
"You’re the damn French bastard who hacked into our comms," Jane growled. "Go fuck yourself."
"Jane, you’re so rude. And to think, I went out of my way to prepare a cozy little room for you. With a terminal connected to the extranet and a screen for watching vids. Meals are served three times a day, by the way. Today’s special was spaghetti."
"What do you want from us? What’s the purpose of this whole charade?" Garrus pressed, his tone sharp as he tried to uncover the real motives behind Normandy’s capture.
"I want to finish what Professor Vowels started. May she rest in peace after the warm reception you gave her."
"Did you let the Normandy go?" Shepard asked, the question gnawing at her conscience.
"Your beloved ship and its crew have been spared. For now. Of course, any attempt to contact reinforcements will result in… unfortunate consequences."
Jane felt her anger boil over, pure hatred filling her for everything Cerberus represented. If it weren’t for the armed guards stationed just outside the room, she’d have knocked the officer’s teeth out herself.
"Mom... Dad... Cold... Very cold," whispered Novia, trembling in Garrus's arms. Her small hands clutched at his chest, seeking warmth. Indeed, the ship's temperature was much lower than on the Normandy, and the little girl had finally started to feel the chill.
"Oh, Novia..." Garrus murmured helplessly, his mandibles twitching as he looked to Shepard for help.
Jane was already pulling off her N7 jacket. She wrapped it around the child, tucking it in as best she could. “Better now, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice soft but strained.
Novia buried her face in the jacket’s folds, inhaling deeply. “It smell like you, Mom,” she mumbled.
Garrus’s arms tightened around her, his fingers brushing against her back with infinite care. His eyes, burning with barely contained rage, stayed locked on the officer.
Dufort's smile widened, as though savoring the display of vulnerability. "Touching. Truly touching. What a charming little family you make."
"What do you plan to do with us? With our child?" Shepard asked, her voice dripping with contempt as she glared at the man lounging in his chair, his boots casually resting on the ornate desk.
"Shepard, tell me—how do you think we’ll defeat the Reapers?"
"Don't answer a question with a question, Dufort."
"Fair enough, Jane. First of all, let’s get one thing straight: that’s not your child. You didn’t create her. Though, I imagine you tried, and... well, nothing came of it, did it?" Dufort chuckled at his tasteless joke. "That girl belongs to Cerberus. We put in the hard work—splicing genes, merging two entirely different species—until finally, she was born. And we need her. Desperately."
"For what? She’s a toddler!" Garrus’s outrage was palpable.
"She is the key to the survival of our civilization. Of our galaxy."
"You’re full of crap," Shepard snapped, her patience wearing thin.
"Jane, darling, don’t interrupt. Tell me this: what happens if your precious Crucible doesn’t work?"
"It will."
"You don’t know that. The Protheans weren’t infallible. After all, they’re extinct now, like dinosaurs. The Alliance is putting too much faith in a pile of ancient scrap metal."
"And what brilliant alternative are you offering?" Garrus asked, his tone sharp, his weariness evident.
"Her," Dufort said, pointing directly at Novia.
"You’re telling me a two-year-old is supposed to fight the Reapers?" Jane slammed her hands on the desk, leaning forward to glare directly into Dufort's eyes.
"Mom, what is Re-pe-er?" Novia's soft voice broke the tense atmosphere as she gazed up at Jane, her blue eyes reflecting the yellow glow of the antique lamp on the desk.
"Novia, shhh. Not now" Garrus hushed her gently, not wanting her to learn the terrifying truth.
"Jane, this war won’t end quickly. It will be fought by our children, and our children’s children, just as it was for the Protheans. The best we can do is ensure our offspring are immune to indoctrination. That they can’t be turned into husks or any other puppets of the Reapers. We need to create a new species—one stronger than us. Smarter. One that can endure and develop technology beyond anything we can imagine. The child your turian is holding is the first of that species. A prototype. Subject Zero."
A heavy silence settled over the opulent cabin as Jane and Garrus processed what they’d just heard.
"Mom. Mom! What is Re-pe-er? Dad! Dad! Dad! What is Re-pe-er? What is it?" Novia persisted, determined to uncover the mystery the adults were so fervently discussing.
"You won’t answer your child’s question? What kind of parents are you if you avoid the hard ones? What will you do when she asks where babies come from?" Dufort taunted with a smug grin.
"Why don't you stop avoiding the hard questions yourself and finally tell us what you plan to do with us?!" Shepard slammed her fist on the desk with such force that it let out an ominous crack. Novia flinched in Garrus’s arms, curling into him for protection.
"Jane, ma douce, calm down. Do you have any idea how much this desk cost? Besides, anger detracts from your beauty,"
"Stop calling her like that," Garrus growled, his voice thick with warning.
"Do turian men always defend their women like this?" Dufort smirked mockingly. "You know, Vakarian, I’m honestly shocked she’s still with you. With all due respect, you look like a battered varren on steroids. Are you sure she’s not sneaking around with Major Alenko or maybe even your pilot? Playing house for the sake of the kid?"
The sharp sound of shattering glass rang out, followed by Dufort’s startled shout.
"Holy shit! Shepard!"
It was Jane—swift and decisive—who had smashed an ornate glass lamp against the desk. Dufort nearly tumbled out of his chair in shock.
"Have you lost your mind?! That lamp was a one-of-a-kind find from some dingy antique market in rural Russia! Where am I supposed to get another one?"
"I don’t know where, but when you find one, I’ll shove it up your ass," Jane promised, her voice dripping venom.
Dufort stared at her, his smug expression slipping for just a moment. "You’re such a renegade," he sneered, attempting to mask his unease. "What kind of example are you setting for the kid?"
Novia peeked out with wide eyes. Her small voice broke the tension.
"Mom... mad?"
"No, sweetheart," Garrus murmured, rocking her gently. "Mom’s just really, really brave."
"Guess you wouldn’t know much about bravery, would you, Dufort?" Jane added, her voice sharper than broken glass. "Your courage seems to stop where your gaudy antiques start."
Dufort rose from his chair and approached Shepard, standing so close that their eyes met.
"Shepard, even if the Crucible works, it will destroy all the mass relays. It will wipe out all artificial intelligence and the most advanced computer systems within the two million light-years distance," he said, his tone deathly serious. "It will plunge us all into a new dark age. We cannot let it be activated. We must consider... alternative methods."
Garrus and Jane exchanged stunned glances before turning their gaze back to Dufort.
"What the hell are you talking about? Utter cosmic nonsense," Jane growled, grabbing hold of his pristine, perfectly pressed uniform. "I don’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth."
"It needs to be recalibrated so that the signal only destroys the Reapers. But the risks are too great. Shepard, we must stop the Alliance from activating it—at any cost. Otherwise, we’ll be trading one catastrophe for an even worse one. Picture it: space stations and non-agricultural planets cut off from their supply chains. People dying slow, agonizing deaths from starvation, with no hope of rescue."
Jane shoved Dufort against the wall, where historical weapons hung as part of the decor. She grabbed him by the throat, her grip threatening to cut off his oxygen. Garrus turned his back on the scene, shielding Novia from the sight.
"Don’t look, Novia. Don’t look," he whispered softly.
"You’re lying, Dufort. Lying straight to my face," Jane hissed at the officer, her left hand poised to strike him.
"I wish it were a lie. You have no idea how much I wish that," Dufort stammered, his voice trembling but still carrying a grim seriousness.
"How could Cerberus possibly know anything about the Crucible?"
"We have our sources."
"For what purpose?"
"For the good of humanity. For the good of the turians, the asari, the salarians, the krogan. Even those damn batarians."
"What proof do you have that the Crucible will destroy the mass relays?"
"The proof is in the construction plans and the code. It’s all there—you just have to interpret it correctly."
"And how is it that Cerberus scientists interpreted this correctly, but the Alliance scientists didn’t?"
"They did interpret it correctly. In the Alliance, they know exactly what the Crucible will do to the galaxy if it’s activated."
"Then why do they still want to use it? Why hasn’t anyone said anything? Why isn’t this in the media? How is it that thousands of people working on its construction haven’t spilled the beans?"
"They want to use it because they believe defeating the Reapers is worth any cost—even this cost. And not everyone knows. Only a narrow group of programmers and Alliance leaders. They can’t go public with it because it would spark mass panic."
"Does Hackett know too?"
"Almost certainly."
"That’s impossible. He would have told me. We would have found another solution."
"You trust him too much."
"What you’re saying, Dufort, is a conspiracy theory. Nothing more than a crackpot theory. The Alliance wouldn’t conspire against the galaxy. And Hackett? No way."
"You think he’s holier than the Pope."
"Other species are working on the Crucible too. How could none of them have discovered this?"
"They’re not allowed access to the key details."
"You’re insane."
"Who isn’t in this war?"
"I want to review those files," Garrus suddenly said, interrupting the heated exchange. "Jane, make him show me the evidence."
Reluctantly, Jane released Dufort, her fingers flexing as though itching to throttle him again. Dufort adjusted his uniform, carefully sidestepped the shards of broken glass, and retrieved a datapad from a drawer in his antique desk.
"Mom's going to hold you for a moment, okay?" Garrus said gently, handing the child wrapped in Jane’s jacket over to her. Novia clung tightly to Jane, seeking warmth and comfort.
"It's all in English, Vakarian. Can you handle it, or should I enable a translator?" Dufort handed him the datapad with a large screen.
"I’ll manage," Garrus replied curtly, his eyes narrowing as he took the device. "I understand your language passively enough."
He began scrolling through the files, his mandibles twitching slightly as he absorbed line after line of complex code and technical schematics. Jane watched him, her gut twisting with a growing unease. It was the same gnawing sensation she felt before every ambush or double-cross—her instincts screaming that danger was imminent.
"Jane, look," Dufort said with a faint smirk. "Your boyfriend looks like he's starting to believe me."
"I haven't said anything like that," Garrus muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.
Minutes ticked by as Garrus continued reading, his focus unbroken. Novia began to squirm nervously in Jane’s arms.
"Mom, I’m hungry," she whispered. "I want soup."
"In just a moment, sweetheart. Just a moment." Jane kissed the top of Novia’s head, trying to soothe her, but her own nerves were raw.
"Jane," Garrus finally spoke, his voice grave. "It’s a virus."
"What? What kind of virus?" Jane asked, her arms instinctively tightening around Novia.
"The Crucible sends out a virus. It doesn’t just generate a pulse—it destroys software. Completely."
"But mass relays don’t have software," Jane said, her voice rising slightly, as though willing her words to make the problem disappear. "That means we’re safe, right?"
"Mass relays do have software. They’re powerful computers," Garrus explained, his tone mirroring her growing concern.
"I confirm, they absolutely have software," Dufort added smugly, as if savoring the moment. "And once that software is erased, they’ll be nothing but massive hunks of useless metal."
"Mom, what is sof-wa-e?" Novia asked, cutting into the tension. She looked up at Jane with curious, confused eyes.
Jane forced a reassuring smile. "It’s… something that makes machines work, sweetheart.
"Jane," Garrus said, his tone like steel, "we need to talk. Privately." He handed the datapad back to Dufort, his eyes burning with determination and something Jane rarely saw in him—fear.
"I’ll escort you to your room," Dufort offered magnanimously. "I’m sure you’d prefer my company over my soldiers’."
"Don’t push your luck, Dufort," Jane warned him sharply, still unwilling to trust any of the wild theories she had just heard.
Chapter Text
True to form, Dufort had prepared a room for them that felt as cozy as a high-end hotel suite. The space, much like the officer’s office, had the vibe of an antique store.
“How do you like it?” Dufort asked, baring his teeth in a grin.
“This rug is hideous. I don’t even want to think about how much dust and how many mites are living in it,” Shepard replied, eyeing the massive oriental carpet covering most of the floor with disdain.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Jane. This place is spotless!” Dufort was visibly offended at the mere suggestion that his ship could harbor dust mites.
“Mom!” Novia squirmed in Jane’s arms, pointing toward two baskets filled with toys in the corner. Jane set her down, and the girl darted across the room, diving into one of the baskets.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Dinner will be brought up in half an hour, so enjoy your stay. Oh, and Jane, the Illusive Man will want to talk to you later. Have fun. Kisses, bye!” Dufort chirped as he shut the door behind him with a click.
Jane took a deep breath, letting her eyes sweep across the beautifully made bed, the sturdy wooden crib, the screen for viewing vids, and the small table set for three, complete with a vase of orchids. Novia had already pulled out a pack of oversized foam puzzle pieces from one of the baskets and was busily trying to unwrap it. No matter how elegant, this was still a prison.
“Jane,” Garrus said softly, his tone laced with worry, as he wrapped an arm around her. “How are you holding up?”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly, silently thanking every deity in the universe that Garrus was here with her.
“Mom, Dad, help,” squeaked Novia, struggling to open the puzzle pack. “Help!”
Garrus let go of Jane, walked over to his daughter, and knelt beside her to free the puzzles from their packaging. Shepard sat down at the small table, glaring at the orchid in the vase. Damn Cerberus. They did so many terrible things, and yet… and yet… they had given Shepard a second chance at life, a new Normandy, and, finally, a child she never could have had otherwise.
Garrus joined her at the table.
“You wanted to talk?” Jane began, sensing the weight of the conversation to come and wanting to get it over with.
“Jane…” Garrus's voice was soft, hesitant. “I went through the files. If they’re accurate… then we’ve got a problem.”
“Tell me straight. Is it like Dufort said?”
“Yes, Jane. All the evidence points that way. I want to be wrong. I don’t want to trust them. But this… this is about the future. For Novia. For her to see both Earth and Palaven. If the mass relays are destroyed, she might never see either.”
“Garrus, do you think Cerberus is listening to us right now?”
“Ninety-nine percent sure they are.”
Jane hesitated for a moment.
“To hell with them,” she muttered. “Garrus, listen. We need to get to the Crucible somehow and modify it. Make sure the virus destroys only the Reapers. We can’t let this war, this slaughter, drag on. And we can’t let Cerberus follow through on their plans to create a new race… or make more children like Novia and experiment on them.”
“The thought of Novia being their blueprint—Spirits, Jane, it makes me want to tear this ship apart with my bare hands.”
“Garrus, we can’t let our emotions rule us now. We need a plan.”
“You’re ready to work with Cerberus to recalibrate the Crucible?”
“Let every single one of those motherfuckers burn in hell,” Jane whispered quietly enough that Novia wouldn’t pick up on her unfiltered language. “I’m willing to work with them if it means ending this damn war, this cursed cycle of death. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that Hackett might kick me out of the Alliance for good after this. I still haven’t figured out what I want to live for when that happens.”
Garrus placed his hand gently over Jane’s.
“Whatever you decide, whatever you choose, I’ll be with you. Always.”
“Mom, Dad, look!” Novia called excitedly, showing them the puzzle she had finished—a large picture of a cat.
“Good job, little one,” Garrus praised, his eyes shining with pride. Novia walked over to him, reaching out her small arms.
“Dad, up!” she asked. Garrus picked her up and settled her on his lap.
“She’s so smart for her age,” Jane said with a broad smile. “Maybe she’ll grow up to be a doctor. Or an engineer. Or an astrophysicist.”
“We just have to save the galaxy for her first,” Garrus replied, gently stroking Novia’s hair.
***
Jane glared at the Cerberus troops escorting her to the communications room, where she was to speak with the Illusive Man. She tried to memorize the route, noting any strategic points within Dufort's ship, but the labyrinthine corridors, dark and oppressive, made it impossible to map the path in her mind.
The communications room was even darker than the hallways. The troops left her alone but warned her sternly not to try anything. Moments later, the familiar and thoroughly detested hologram appeared before her.
“Still puffing away on those cancer sticks, huh? Good thing we’re not meeting in person—you must stink worse than a dive bar smoking lounge. Makes me want to puke just looking at you. Bet your lungs are as full of holes as a colander.”
“Commander Shepard, charming as ever,” the Illusive Man replied, taking a drag from his cigarette. “It’s nice to see you on our ship again.”
“It’s not nice for me.”
“Has Officer Dufort briefed you on our plans and our latest discoveries?”
“I had the misfortune of hearing all of it.”
“And? What’s your opinion?”
Shepard crossed her arms, pausing to consider her words.
“There will be no creation of a new race. No experiments on children. I won’t allow it.”
“Mhm,” the Illusive Man murmured, leaning back in his chair. “Go on.”
“If I find out that you’re making more children like this, I will unleash every fleet in this galaxy on you. All of them.”
He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
“A human-turian hybrid is only the beginning. We’ll need asari genes for longevity, salarian genes for intelligence, krogan genes for ferocity… and maybe a piece of your Prothean too, just for good measure.”
“You’re a sick psychopath!” Shepard roared, gesturing furiously. “You can’t play with genes like they’re building blocks and pretend you’re God!”
“We were attacked by devils, Commander. The galaxy needs a god.”
“And you’re the worst possible candidate.”
“Then name a better one,” the Illusive Man countered, his eyes glowing with calculated arrogance.
Jane took a deep breath, searching for a sharp retort to the Illusive Man’s words.
“I hear you’ve been playing house with your turian recently. The child you’re trying to raise is more powerful than you realize. Completely immune to indoctrination.”
“And how exactly would you know that?” At the mention of Novia, Jane’s protective instincts flared like wildfire.
“We tested it very thoroughly.”
The air left her lungs. Her fists tightened, nails biting into her palms. If this wasn’t just a hologram, she would’ve already made him bleed.
“Rot in hell,” she growled, her voice trembling with fury. “For every nightmare you’ve inflicted on my child.”
“A few days, and you already think of yourself as a full-fledged mother? Isn’t that attachment happening a bit too quickly?”
“What the hell would you know about it?” Jane’s anger grew exponentially with every passing moment. “You don’t have human feelings. You don’t have a soul—you sold it to the devil for money and ships.”
“Shepard, Shepard…” The Illusive Man’s tone shifted to one of feigned pity. “If you want to raise that child, go ahead. Play house. Pretend she’s yours. But you’d better get used to the idea that she’s going to have siblings. A lot of genetically diverse siblings.”
Jane’s entire body went rigid. “Over my dead body.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.” He smirked, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
Jane forced herself to take another breath, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I’ll go to the Crucible and recalibrate it. I’ll adjust the signal to destroy only the Reapers—not the mass relays or other computers. But once I do that, you’re going to abandon your plans for breeding a new species. No more experiments. No more children.”
“Now that is finally something interesting,” the Illusive Man replied, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s certainly an offer worth considering. But the chances of the Crucible working, even after calibration, are slim. I’m more inclined to expect an epic explosion that sends you flying into the void. Ready to die again, gasping for air in the great nothingness?”
“I’m only recalibrating it, not firing it.”
“You’re going to recalibrate it and fire it.”
“It’s not ready yet.”
“It won’t get any more ready than it is now.”
Jane began pacing the room, her mind racing through every possible scenario. If she didn’t recalibrate and activate the Crucible, Novia would never have the chance to grow up in a galaxy at peace. If she went and activated the machine but died in the process, Novia would lose her mother. And in the worst-case scenario, the Crucible could explode, killing Jane and obliterating any hope for a better future for her child.
But in the best-case scenario... What were the odds that the universe would be merciful enough to spare both Shepard and the galaxy?
“Shepard, you don’t have to do this. Not if you want to see your peculiar little child grow up.”
“I want to see Novia grow up in a galaxy without a massacre of everything that breathes.”
“Novia? What kind of name is that?”
“A turian one.”
“And the last name?”
“Shepard.”
The Illusive Man chuckled, as if he’d just heard the punchline to a brilliant joke.
“Oh, so we have another Shepard. The galaxy must feel so secure.”
“Listen, Smokestack Lord, I’m not in the mood for your jokes. Just tell me—what are the odds that a recalibrated Crucible will work and not kill me in the process?”
“Ten percent. But remember, I’m an optimist.”
“Fine. I’ll go. I’ll do it. And then I’ll come back to knock all those perfect teeth out of your smug little face.”
“Excellent. That’s the Shepard I fought for.”
“One more thing. Let me off this ship. Me, Garrus, and the child. I’ll head to the Crucible, but on Normandy, with my crew.”
“The child is critical to—”
“NO!” Jane’s shout erupted, reverberating through the room, so powerful it seemed to shake the very walls. Even the Illusive Man’s calm facade cracked for a split second.
“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising a hand in mock surrender. “Take your turian and your adorable little bundle of joy. We’ll talk when you get back… if you get back.”
“We will talk,” Jane threatened. “Don’t think for a second you can hide forever.”
And with that, the hologram blinked out, leaving Jane standing in the darkness.
***
Shepard stormed into the room like a whirlwind.
"Garrus, we’re going back to the Normandy."
“Hm?” Garrus looked up from where he sat cross-legged on the ornate rug, combing the pink mane of a toy pony with Novia nestled beside him.
“Mom is back!” Novia called out joyfully.
“We’re heading back to the Normandy. I’ve negotiated with the Illusive Man.”
“He just let us go? That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Oh, Garrus…”
“What’s that? What do you have to do for him, Jane?”
“Recalibrate the Crucible. And activate it.”
“When?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle,” Dufort said, pushing his way into the room. “I hear we have a mission to complete.”
“We?” Shepard stared at him with contempt.
“Mais oui! Who else will guide you, Jane? You don’t know the Crucible’s layout, the access points, or where the guards will be positioned. Clearly, you need me.”
“You must be dreaming if you think I’m letting you on the Normandy, you French bastard. Go eat some frogs.”
“Ah, Jane, your words cut deep! You sure know how to put a man in his place. That’s exactly what I like in a woman…”
And then, boldly, he slung an arm around her shoulder.
“You know, soon we may save the galaxy together. How about a dinner afterward? Just think of what we could—”
“Get your damn hands off me!” Jane snapped, wrenching herself free with disgust written all over her face.
“Leave mom alone!” Novia shouted fiercely, her voice full of defiance.
Garrus rose to his full height in a single, fluid motion, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously. He strode over to Dufort, towering over him. Without a word, Garrus grabbed the officer by the front of his immaculate uniform, claws tearing through the fabric like it was paper.
“Try that again. Touch her one more time, and I’ll string you up by your own entrails,” he said quietly and deliberately, his voice laced with menace.
“A turian. Big, scary, and all claws. Is this what you like in him, Jane?”
Shepard stepped forward, her voice ice-cold.
“If it’s a choice between him and you, I’d take the big, scary turian every time.”
Novia, sensing the tension, clung to her mother’s leg. Shepard bent down to scoop the little girl up into her arms.
"Well, alright, we’ve had our fun. Jane, when will the Normandy get here?" Dufort asked, nervously adjusting his uniform, the fabric torn just below his collar.
Shepard glared at him with pure hatred. Of all the people she’d worked with—or been forced to tolerate—Dufort ranked near the bottom. But he was right. If they wanted any chance of recalibrating the Crucible, he was necessary. That didn’t mean she had to like it.
"In half an hour. Pack your toothbrush and a clean pair of pants, assuming you own either. But if you set foot on my ship acting like a caveman again, my crew will toss you out the airlock."
"Of course, Jane. Anything for you."
Garrus shot him a warning glare.
Chapter Text
Jane knew she was testing the limits of her crew’s trust by bringing a Cerberus officer aboard the Normandy. She could feel the weight of questioning stares, demanding answers she owed them. Without delay, she convened a meeting in the conference room to explain the situation and outline the upcoming mission. Soon, all those summoned arrived: Joker, EDI, Liara, Samantha, Kaidan, James, Cortez, Garrus—and even Javik emerged from his self-imposed exile. Each cast uneasy glances at Dufort, who masked his discomfort with an overly confident smile. Novia sat on the table amid scattered crayons, scribbling in a coloring book; Jane and Garrus had no one else to leave her with.
Jane began to speak, explaining the flaw in the Crucible, how its activation would cause galactic catastrophe, and the urgent need to recalibrate it. She detailed the files and the code that confirmed the issue.
"Are these files he showed you even real?" Liara asked, her tone sharp with skepticism. "Cerberus could have fabricated them. They might have an ulterior motive for sabotaging the Crucible."
"What a disgusting accusation!" Dufort huffed, feigning offense.
"Liara," Jane said, ignoring him, "I'll send you the files. Compare them with everything you have on the Crucible."
"Of course, Shepard. I'll set Glyph on the task immediately."
Minutes passed, thick with tension, as everyone waited for the results. Novia’s crayons scratching on paper were the only sounds breaking the silence.
"Shepard," Liara said at last, her voice grave, "the Cerberus files are authentic. The Crucible does have a flaw we… we missed before."
"Son of a—" James muttered, cursing under his breath.
"I have to go," Shepard declared firmly, though she felt herself breaking inside. "It’s madness, but I have to. We’ll need to sneak in through maintenance tunnels and evacuation routes. Even Spectres aren’t allowed near the most critical sections of the construction site. And there’s no way to know how the Crucible will react—whether it will work, malfunction, or explode. A ten percent success rate, being optimistic. A good chance I’ll end up as a corpse drifting in space. Dufort has to go with me; he knows the layouts. And I need one more person. In case… in case something happens to me." Her voice faltered, but she steadied herself. "Who’s up for a new suicide mission? Ninety percent suicide, to be precise."
Silence filled the room.
"Garrus has to stay," Jane continued, her voice quieter. "He needs to raise our daughter if I… if I don’t come back."
"Jane…" Garrus said softly, his voice heavy with emotion, but he didn’t argue.
"Kaidan, you also need to stay," Shepard added. "You’ll have to lead the Normandy if I’m gone."
"Yes, ma’am," Kaidan said, his tone somber.
"I’ll go," EDI volunteered. "If this body gets destroyed in an explosion, I can find another."
"That won’t work," Dufort interrupted. "The Crucible has advanced anti-AI protocols to prevent sabotage. Any AI that enters is immediately deactivated."
"Fantastic," Jane muttered sarcastically, feeling the crushing weight of the galaxy squarely on her shoulders.
"Commander, I’ll go," Javik said suddenly. His dual sets of eyes locked on Shepard with unwavering seriousness. "Let this madness end, once and for all."
Jane looked at him, startled.
"Javik, no, please!" Liara grabbed the Prothean’s wrist, her voice trembling with desperation. "Please!"
For a moment, Liara and Javik exchanged a deep, unspoken gaze.
"I must, Liara," Javik said gently, removing her hand from his wrist with care. "You carry the future. Let me fight for it."
"You sure?" Jane asked, her voice laced with doubt as she studied his alien face, trying to read the emotions behind it.
"I am."
"All right," Jane said at last, her tone resigned. "We’ll go tomorrow. And may every god, goddess, spirit, angel, and demon watch over us."
***
Little Novia was fast asleep in her crib, wrapped snugly in a blanket, safe and peaceful. Jane gazed at her with deep emotion, painfully aware that these might be her last moments with her child. Her chest tightened at the thought—this wasn’t just another mission. It was a gamble with everything she held dear.
Garrus entered the cabin quietly and sat on the bed beside Jane, wrapping an arm around her.
"Jane, I finally managed to get through to my family," he said softly, careful not to wake Novia. "My father and sister. They were on Palaven, but they’ve managed to evacuate."
"That’s wonderful," Shepard said, feeling a rare moment of relief amidst the storm of emotions.
"I told them about the child," Garrus added, his mandibles twitching slightly.
"How did they react?"
"My father was… more than a little shocked. But he asked for a picture of Novia. And he wants to meet her. I think… that he’ll accept her in the end."
"And your sister?"
"She’s over the moon about becoming an aunt. I can already tell she’s going to be the kind of aunt who spoils Novia rotten."
Shepard laughed, imagining an army of aunts and uncles showering Novia with gifts and treats.
Garrus buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Jane felt a wave of warmth spread through her body, grounding her in the moment.
"Your hair… it smells wonderful. Different than usual."
"I got a new shampoo," she replied softly.
"Mhm," he hummed, holding her just a little tighter.
They stayed like that for a moment, savoring each other’s presence in silence, the world outside their cabin momentarily forgotten.
"Jane, I have to tell you something," Garrus said quietly, brushing his talons against her cheek. "I don’t want you to go tomorrow. I don’t want you to do this mission. I can’t… I can’t let you…"
"Garrus," Shepard looked deeply into his eyes and saw the immense pain and fear reflected there. "Garrus, I have to. No one else can do it. This is the only way I can secure a future for Novia. For her, and for every other child of every species. It’s the only way…"
"Jane... Jane..." Garrus’s voice broke, and he trembled as though standing at the edge of his endurance. He had never been this terrified in his life. Jane was his anchor, the one thing that got him through every day of this war-ravaged hell. If he lost her, he would fall apart, shattered beyond repair.
Shepard cupped his face in her hands.
"Garrus, please. Take care of Novia. Protect her. When the galaxy learns about her... bad things could happen. Shield her from that. And take her to Earth, to Palaven, to the Citadel, and to every place where there’s something beautiful."
"Jane... You’re the love of my life… I love you so much, more than anything, more than I thought it was possible to love someone… Without you… none of this will mean anything... Don’t go… Please don’t go... Don’t… don’t…"
Garrus could no longer hold himself together. He trembled uncontrollably, his mandibles twitching erratically, his breaths shallow and ragged, like he’d just run a marathon. Finally, a faint, high-pitched whine escaped his throat, a sound so raw and haunting it sent shivers through Jane. It was the sound of a turian’s grief, their unguarded cry for help—a vulnerability that Palaven’s people would usually rather die than expose.
Jane kissed his face gently, her lips brushing against the ridges of his mandibles, her hands holding his trembling ones.
"Garrus, I’m still here. I’m right here, alive... I’m here. I’m here."
"Jane... Don’t go... Don’t go..."
"Garrus, I love you, and I always will. Always. If the mission goes wrong... I’ll be watching over you, helping you. You and Novia will never be alone. Never."
"Jane... Jane... Jane... May the Spirits guide you... May they keep you safe..."
"Garrus, you need to sleep. Lie down, okay? I’m right here, right beside you. Always."
She gently coaxed him onto the bed, wrapped him snugly in the blanket, turned off the lights, and lay down beside him. She could hear his breathing, still uneven and quick.
He shifted closer to her, wrapping his arm protectively around her; Jane rested her head against his neck.
"Jane, please… come back. I’ll buy us a house, somewhere near the beach, somewhere warm. A place where the birds sing."
"I’ll come back," she promised, though her voice trembled ever so slightly.
The room fell into silence, save for the faint hum of the Normandy’s engines. They lay there together, tangled in each other’s arms, waiting for a sleep that refused to come.
***
Jane, already dressed in her armor and helmet, with her weapon prepped, waited for Dufort and Javik. As expected, Dufort had overslept, missed breakfast, and was grumbling at anyone who came within five meters of him. Javik, meanwhile, was still in Liara’s cabin, engaged in what Shepard could only assume was a deeply personal conversation.
Instead of her teammates, Jane saw Garrus approaching with Novia cradled in his arms. The sight of them made her heart ache.
"Novia," Garrus said softly, his voice warm but strained, "say goodbye to mom."
"Bye, mom," Novia said, reaching her small hands out toward Jane. "When come back?"
Jane felt tears welling up in her eyes. She ran her gloved fingers through Novia’s soft hair, memorizing every strand as if it might be the last time.
"Novia, mom has something very important to do," Shepard said gently, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "You need to be brave and listen to dad, okay?"
"Okay," Novia replied, her eyes wide and curious.
Jane looked up at Garrus, locking eyes with him. The pain there mirrored her own.
"Protect her," she said softly. Garrus’s mandibles twitched slightly.
"Always," he promised, his voice low but firm.
The sound of footsteps broke through the engines’ hum. Javik strode toward them, his expression even more grim than usual. Behind him, Dufort appeared, flashing his unnaturally white grin.
"Today, we’ll become heroes, you and I, Jane. And this peculiar relic from the middle Paleolithic era," Dufort quipped. "I have an excellent vintage wine aboard my ship for the occasion."
Both Javik and Shepard chose to respond to Dufort’s chatter with silence—and nothing but silence.
Chapter Text
There were no issues docking the Normandy at the massive construction site in space. Every worker respectfully stepped aside at the sight of Shepard’s intimidating expression.
The Crucible had many areas equipped with breathable air and artificial gravity to facilitate the work of its numerous skilled specialists. Shepard, Javik, and Dufort entered a large hall used for briefings, cargo transfers, and general operations. An elegant asari emerged from reception, her warm smile a stark contrast to the tension radiating from the trio.
“Commander Shepard, it’s an honor to have you here. How can I assist you? What’s the purpose of your mission?”
“That’s classified,” Shepard replied curtly, unwilling to engage in any discussion.
“Oh. Very well. I wish you the best of luck, then.” The asari returned to her desk, cluttered with artificial plants.
“Now what, Dufort?” Shepard demanded, turning to the Cerberus officer. “Where do we go? Lead the way.”
“There’s a lovely, comfortable elevator that could take us straight to the main console with no stops. Unfortunately, only the top ten specialists, the most trusted ones, are authorized to use it. Not even you could get access, Jane.”
Javik’s dual sets of eyes narrowed as he muttered, “Say something useful for once.”
“Over there, to the left, there’s a big employee loo. Inside, there’s an access hatch we’ll need to dismantle and squeeze through. Then, it’s just a matter of crawling through the ducts until we find a ladder. After that, we just navigate a maze of horizontal and vertical shafts until we reach the top.”
“Uh-huh,” Jane sighed deeply. “Lead on.”
“Of course, if the guards notice us fiddling with anything, we’ll have a problem. A big one,” Dufort added, still grinning as if the entire mission were a playful game of hide-and-seek.
“We have weapons,” Javik stated flatly.
“They won’t be much help if we’re stuck in a duct and run into guards waiting for us on the other side of one of the rooms we’ll have to pass through.”
“Then make sure no one notices us, Dufort,” Shepard said, glaring at the officer with obvious disdain. “Where’s that bog?”
They moved to the left side of the room, found the door marked as the toilet, and stepped inside. True to Dufort’s description, the restroom was large, with seven cramped stalls along one wall and modest sinks lining the other. On the wall directly opposite hung a massive painting of a unclothed asari, twisted into an oddly provocative pose.
Javik gazed at the so-called artwork with genuine disgust.
“Only primitives would hang something like this in a public space. Utter lack of respect for decency,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain for the species of this cycle.
“I think it’s great,” Dufort quipped. “If we survive this, I’m getting one for myself. Same idea, though—different model. Human. Red hair. Green eyes. Let’s hope she’s willing to take off her armor for a pose.”
Jane ignored the vulgar comment and walked up to the painting, examining the wall behind it. With a single swift motion, she knocked the frame to the floor, revealing a hatch secured by a metal plate.
“Dufort, can you open this?” Shepard asked in a flat tone, betraying no emotion.
“Well, it looks like someone needs to unscrew it,” Dufort chuckled as if it were the funniest observation he’d ever made. “Lucky for you, I brought a screwdriver! Powered by mass effect fields, it gets screws out in seconds.”
“Then get it open,” Jane ordered curtly.
Dufort got to work just as a worker, a turian in an orange jumpsuit, entered the restroom. His gaze shifted to the trio tinkering with a wall hatch, confusion evident in his mandibles.
“Is the toilet in service?” he asked hesitantly.
“No,” Javik responded immediately, his tone like cold steel. “Spectre investigation. Someone’s been smuggling narcotics through the ventilation system.”
“What the hell are you?” the turian asked, staring at Javik with wide eyes.
“Your worst nightmare.”
“Well… I’ll just, uh, go pee on the next floor,” the worker stammered, clearly unnerved, and quickly left the restroom.
With a clatter, the metal plate fell to the floor, revealing the entrance to a network of narrow tunnels.
“Put your helmets on,” Dufort advised. “There might be spots with no oxygen down there.”
"Get in first, Dufort," Shepard ordered.
"Oh, but ladies first…"
"Get in, or I’ll kick your ass."
Dufort squeezed into the hatch, followed by Jane, with Javik bringing up the rear. The tunnel was oppressively low and narrow, forcing them to crawl. Their armor scraped against the metal walls and floor, their weapons constantly snagging on the ceiling.
Shepard wasn’t claustrophobic, but in this cramped, artificial space lit by a sickly blue glow, she felt as though the walls were closing in, ready to crush her like a discarded candy wrapper. Alongside the physical discomfort, the weight of her guilt pressed down on her. She was betraying Hackett, betraying Anderson, betraying the Alliance, humanity, and even herself by working with Cerberus on this mission. Was this all a trap? Had Cerberus lured her here for some sinister purpose? Was Dufort’s sleazy flirting part of some calculated manipulation to destabilize her? Maybe… Maybe…
"Jane, ma douce, why so quiet? Feeling unwell? A little faint? Need someone to revive you?" came Dufort’s arrogant voice through her comm.
"Shut up," she snapped back, not in the mood to craft a clever retort.
"How much farther?" Javik asked sharply.
"My dear Prothean grandpa, the tunnel network here stretches about four kilometers in total. We’ve still got some crawling ahead of us. Legs sore already?"
"Fantastic," Shepard muttered through gritted teeth.
They crawled in silence for several more minutes, each of them focused on the grueling effort and the growing ache in their muscles. Even Shepard, strong and athletic as she was, began to feel the burning pain in her body. She shut her eyes briefly, centering herself, forcing herself to push forward… second by second… minute by minute…
"We’re almost there," Dufort finally announced, his labored breathing audible. "There’s a vertical shaft up ahead with a ladder."
They squeezed through a small, thankfully open, hatch into the shaft. The path now led upward. Climbing the ladder was a welcome change from crawling in full armor; it gave them a chance to catch their breath.
Shepard felt an urge to check on Javik but hesitated, the bitter memory of his harsh words rising unbidden. Why had he said those things? And why, despite their earlier clash, had he volunteered for a mission that was almost certainly suicidal? Had Liara spoken to him? Was that what their long conversation had been about? These unanswered questions gnawed at Shepard as she climbed, alone with her thoughts. A pang of longing for Garrus pierced her, the one person she could confide in about everything—every fear, every doubt. The pang spread into a cold ache as the grim realization struck: she might never see him or their daughter again.
“I see the end,” Dufort called from above. “There’s a room just ahead.”
“Wait,” Javik commanded abruptly, his voice cutting through the tight space like a blade. “Something’s wrong. I feel it in my gut.”
"Scan the area," Shepard ordered, instantly on high alert.
Their omni-tools flared to life, casting an orange glow against the cold metal walls of the shaft.
"There’s a set of motion sensors in the room above," Dufort said, squinting at his scanner. "If they activate, the guards will swarm us. They could chase us or lock us in these shafts like canned meat. How the hell did you sense that, Javik?"
“How the hell did you not?” the Prothean retorted with disdain.
“What are our options?” Shepard kept her voice steady, though her pulse quickened.
"I can send an electrical pulse up the line to disable all electronics," Dufort suggested. "That should knock out the sensors. But it’ll probably kill the lights, too. We’ll have to rely on flashlights."
"Do it," Shepard ordered curtly, impressed—albeit grudgingly—by Dufort’s utility. Maybe his terrible flirting attempts were worth tolerating if he kept delivering results. As long as he didn’t screw up later.
A surge of energy shot out from Dufort’s omni-tool, and the shaft plunged into darkness. Lights below them, unaffected by the pulse, still glowed faintly, but above, only their helmet flashlights illuminated the way.
“Done,” Dufort announced. “Let’s hope no one notices the outage.”
He unscrewed the next cover and, after climbing through, they finally emerged into a properly-sized room. It was a relief to stand upright again, stretching their aching legs. The room ended at a set of locked, encrypted doors.
"That leads to one of the construction levels," Dufort said, gesturing toward the doors. "But unfortunately, that’s not for us. Instead, let me introduce you to this charming little shaft over here."
He pointed to another covered passage, then unscrewed the panel quickly.
"Back to crawling, huh?" Shepard muttered, resigned, as the cover clanged to the floor. Another stretch of claustrophobic tunnels awaited.
And once again, they crawled through narrow tunnels, climbed ladders, twisted through tight turns, and kept moving higher and higher through the very heart of the Crucible. In some areas, there was no oxygen, forcing them to rely on the limited supplies their suits could provide. Dufort led them with unwavering confidence, navigating the labyrinth with such precision that it felt almost suspicious—almost as if he’d slithered through these cramped shafts before.
Shepard started feeling lightheaded, whether from exhaustion or the anxiety this unnatural environment seemed to implant in living beings accustomed to the infinite skies of their homeworlds. But she pressed on, losing track of time. Was it ten minutes? An hour? A month? A year? A million years?
When this was over, she promised herself a vacation at a luxury resort. She’d sit in a bubbling hot tub with a strong drink in hand. And Garrus would be there, wrapping his arm around her and whispering compliments in her ear. If she survived. If not, then perhaps her rest would be in heaven—or hell, considering her recent dealings with Cerberus.
“We’re almost there,” Dufort announced at last as they climbed what felt like the hundredth ladder that day. “This is the final stretch—at the top, there’s a small cargo elevator that’ll take us directly to the console.”
Shepard heard Javik exhale deeply over the comms, the sound heavy with relief.
They finally reached a room with a door leading to the elevator. Dufort hacked into the console, and the elevator doors slid open to reveal a small, cramped space.
“They fit anything useful in here?” Javik asked rhetorically, his tone as dry as ever.
They squeezed into the elevator, forced into awkward proximity by the tight quarters. For the first time in what felt like ages, the air inside was breathable. They removed their helmets, savoring the fresh oxygen and the chance to clear their heads.
The elevator ascended in silence.
Suddenly, Jane felt an arm snake around her waist. The cold metal of Dufort’s armor brushed against her own, and his face hovered far too close to hers.
“Jane,” he began, trying to sound intimate, though Javik’s sharp senses surely picked up everything. “Jane… your hair smells amazing.”
As Dufort’s nose brushed her hair, Jane felt a shiver of revulsion ripple through her body. Her fingers twitched, itching to slam him against the wall. But she gritted her teeth and waited, calculating when to strike—an elbow, a kick, a fist, whatever it took.
“Jane…” Dufort continued, his breath now grazing the skin of her neck. “Just imagine what happens when we succeed. Think of what we could achieve… you and I… like two stars sharing the same orbit…”
And then she felt his lips on her skin, the sensation of his teeth grazing her neck as if trying to mark her. That was it.
In one fluid motion, Jane spun around and drove her fist straight into Dufort’s face. The force slammed his head against the wall of the elevator, and he groaned in pain, clutching his rapidly swelling eye.
“What was that for?!” Dufort’s voice bounced off the metal walls of the elevator. “What did I do to you, Jane?!”
“Want me to give your other eye a matching bruise?” Shepard shot back, her voice filled with pure hatred.
“You’re pathetic, Dufort,” Javik interjected, his voice hard as his focused gaze bore into the officer. “You think you can treat her like a thing, like your prize. You think you can hunt her down. Keep her for one night, two, maybe three, until you tire of her. But she’s joined with the turian. He loves her, and she loves him—genuinely. Truly. And they have a child they both protect. Feelings like that are beyond you, Dufort.”
“What do you even know about what I want?” Dufort muttered, defensive.
“It’s in your hormones. I can sense them, read them. You only want her body. You want to play your games, ignoring what she feels. You think you’re entitled to her.”
Shepard turned her gaze to Javik, stunned but silently grateful. Something had shifted in the Prothean since their last confrontation about Novia. Something that drove him to volunteer for this mission.
Dufort drew in a breath, clearly ready to defend himself, but the elevator abruptly stopped, and the doors slid open, revealing the room with the main console.
Chapter Text
The lights on the screens shimmered green, various numbers and indicators displaying every parameter of the massive, cosmic machine. Jane, Dufort, and Javik tossed their helmets into a corner and approached the console. Shepard reached for the keyboard, but the computer denied her access. She tried several basic hacking methods, but none worked; the system was highly secure.
"Commander, allow me to try," Javik requested, and when Shepard nodded, he attempted some ancient Prothean techniques. After a few minutes of effort, the console displayed the message "ACCESS GRANTED."
"Alright," Jane placed her fingers on the keyboard and took a deep breath. "In a moment, this will all be over. In a moment, the Reapers will stop. Stop slaughtering everything that lives. I'm starting the upload of the new code."
"Not on my watch," Dufort said.
Before Jane could react, she felt him grab her from behind and press a long, sharp knife to her throat.
So he’d been scheming all along. So Jane had made a mistake trusting him. A fatal mistake.
"Traitor," Javik hissed, instantly drawing his pistol and aiming it straight at Dufort's head.
"Go ahead, Prothean, shoot," Dufort grinned, baring his teeth. "Maybe you'll hit me, maybe you'll hit her. Maybe your hand will tremble. Maybe it won't."
Jane’s heart pounded as she assessed her options. She knew all too well that there was almost no way out of a position like this. It didn’t matter which way she moved or how much force she used—the chances of the knife slicing her throat were too high. Negotiation was the only path forward.
"What are you doing, Dufort? What do you want? Just tell me what you want," she said, masking the fear that had tied her stomach into a knot.
"Jane, ma douce, we’re not uploading your code into the console. We’re uploading my code."
"And what’s so much better about your code?" she asked, stalling, searching for an opening.
"Total destruction of the Reapers would be an enormous loss," Dufort said, his tone calm, almost reasonable. "They are incredibly advanced forms of life. We could learn from them."
"Learn what? How to murder billions?"
"Jane, the code I want to upload won’t destroy the Reapers. It will let us take control of them."
Jane’s jaw dropped. Dufort’s arrogance was greater than the observable universe.
“You’re fucked in the head. You need to be locked up in a mental hospital,” Jane hissed, but she instantly regretted it. She needed to play this cool and smart if she wanted to survive—if she wanted to see Novia and Garrus again.
“Oh, Jane, Jane. You judge people too quickly. Once we upload my code, we’ll have the most powerful army in the galaxy at our disposal. Answering only to us. To me and you, Jane. You see, I’m not selfish. I want someone by my side as I execute my plans, someone to share the power I’ll gain. Your Prothean misunderstood me. Jane, you’re an exceptional woman. By my side, you can become even more extraordinary. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Jane opened her mouth to respond, but a powerful biotic wave slammed her and Dufort to their knees; Javik had used the moment of Dufort’s distraction to attack.
She reached for her pistol, struggling to rise from her knees, but Dufort had already activated his omni-tool. A second later, something hit her—a pulse of energy that paralyzed her nervous system and unleashed unbearable pain.
She collapsed fully to the floor, but her mind was racing. She deduced that Dufort was using a form of tech that could emit pulses to disable electronics or paralyze a biological nervous system.
With great effort, she lifted her head and saw Dufort and Javik locked in an intense fight. Shots were fired, bursts of energy exchanged. Her heart sank as she noticed one of the attacks had damaged Javik’s armor, which had the unfortunate flaw of being as ancient as its wearer. It began to crumble under the strain, much to Dufort’s delight. Yet Javik continued to fight, determined to overpower the traitor.
Get up, get up, get up, Jane urged herself silently, but the pain was unbearable—her muscles burned as if set aflame. Her head spun, and she felt blood trickling from her nose.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.
She managed to bend her legs and push herself onto her hands. Her nervous system was slowly recovering from the powerful shock. Javik and Dufort were still locked in combat, the Prothean pinned to the wall by the Cerberus officer, whose knife gleamed ominously in the dim console light.
Fight, Jane silently begged her companion.
Slowly, she rose to her feet and reached for the console. Activating her omni-tool, she quickly uploaded the new code, watching in a trance as lines of numbers and letters scrolled across the screen.
“Code implementation initiated,” the system announced. “Estimated completion time: ten minutes.”
“Damn it,” Jane swore under her breath. Anything could happen in ten minutes.
But then she realized the sounds of the fight had stopped.
Dufort lay unconscious on the floor. But it was Javik who held her focus—slumped against the wall, his once-imposing figure now crumpled and fragile. His armor was shattered, brown blood leaking from a gaping wound near his chest.
“Javik!” Jane rushed to his side, kneeling as she scrambled for medigel.
“It… won’t help,” Javik said weakly, his voice strained. “I think… he got me…with his knife… under the heart… the artery…”
Instinctively, Jane pressed her hands to the wound, trying desperately to stem the bleeding. But it was futile. The blood flowed like a river, forming brown puddles all around, like mud during rain.
“Javik, no… My God,” Jane stammered, her entire body trembling with helplessness.
“Commander… look at me…” Javik rasped. She met his gaze—those two pairs of eyes filled with pain.
“Yes, Javik?”
“I’m sorry… for doubting you… Finish this… End it…”
“It’ll be over soon,” Jane promised, glancing at the console and the code’s progress bar. “A few more minutes, and there will never be another cycle.”
Javik took a deep, agonizing breath.
“Please… protect Liara… help her… She’s… carrying my child.”
Jane’s eyes widened, her breath catching. The weight of his words struck her like a blow. In an instant, the pieces fell into place, and she understood.
“I’m sorry… for what I said about… your daughter… It was all… just too much…”
Jane couldn’t do anything except take his hand in hers, offering a small measure of comfort against the fear of death that loomed so close.
“I promise. I’ll help Liara. She’ll be safe. Garrus and I will take care of her. She’ll never be alone. Your child will grow up safe, surrounded by love. I swear it,” Jane vowed, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“Thank you… Commander…Tell… Liara…I…love…h-her…” Javik murmured one final time as his body began to go still.
“Time remaining for operation: five minutes,” the computer announced.
And then death claimed Javik, marking the final end of the Prothean race.
Jane looked down at her gloves, wet with blood. She had trusted that bastard Dufort and lost a soldier—a soldier who had every reason to live.
She glanced behind her. That bastard Dufort was regaining consciousness and struggling to apply medigel to himself.
Before he could do anything else, she knelt beside him, pinned his neck under her knee, and twisted his arm painfully. The position ensured he couldn’t activate his omni-tool or pull off any of his usual tricks. He groaned in pain.
“You killed Javik. You killed the Prothean race. Are you proud of yourself?” she spat venomously.
“Let me go!” he barked. “We have to stop your code and upload mine instead!”
“In your dreams,” Jane snapped. “You know, Dufort, I could kill you right now, but I’d rather see you rot in some hellhole of a prison for what you’ve done.”
“The Crucible might kill us,” he replied coolly. “It might not handle the energy surge.”
“Shame I’ll die staring at your disgusting face. Why did you even drag me on this mission?” she demanded. “You know the Crucible’s layout. You could have climbed in here yourself.”
“Jane,” Dufort groaned, his voice strained, “no one would’ve let a Cerberus ship dock. I needed a ride on the Normandy… and the opportunity presented itself.”
“Do you know where traitors end up after death, Dufort?” Jane hissed. “The ninth circle of hell. Right at the bottom.”
“A super-soldier and a Dante fan… My God, what an extraordinary woman you’ve put in my path to make me feel so ordinary…”
She twisted his arm further, a sickening crack echoing through the room as his joint gave way. His scream was raw, filling her with a fleeting, bitter satisfaction.
“Time remaining for operation: one minute.”
Jane left the writhing Dufort and sprinted toward her helmet. She slipped it on, bracing herself for what might come next. After a moment’s thought, she picked up Dufort’s helmet and jammed it onto his head as well. Death would be too kind a punishment for him—she wanted him to face justice.
The computer began counting down, its digits flashing on the fractured console.
“Code compiled,” the system announced. “Activating all systems in ten… nine…”
Jane sat down against the wall, covering her helmet with her hands. It would all end soon… this long journey she had been on for years, since that day on Eden Prime…
“Three… two… one. Activation.”
A massive explosion rocked the room. The console shattered into tiny fragments that floated in the air as artificial gravity failed.
And then came darkness—an emptiness without stars and planets.
Chapter Text
Jane stumbled blindly through a milky-white fog. With each step, her strength ebbed, and her legs threatened to give out beneath her. She would have fallen if she hadn’t grabbed hold of something that suddenly materialized in front of her—rough, unpleasant to the touch. Bark. A tree.
Only then did her vision begin to adjust, and she saw the tree and countless others stretching into a forest before her. How was there a forest here? She had been… she had been… where, exactly?
She tried to move forward again, deeper into the woods, drawn by something calling her, pulling her toward the cold fog’s distant, unseen destination.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm—firmly, decisively. She turned her head. It was Javik, though she only recognized him by his piercing yellow eyes; the rest of his face was obscured by mist.
“Commander, go back,” he said, his voice echoing through the forest.
Go back? To where? All around her was the same endless forest; no matter where she turned, she would arrive at the same place.
She spun 180 degrees, toward where Javik had been standing, and began walking that way.
“No, not this way, Shepard,” someone else grabbed her hand—a voice she knew well. “You have to go down.”
“Mordin… How? How do I go down?” she asked, staring into the salarian’s dark eyes, but he dissolved into the air.
She looked at her feet, but all she saw was the forest floor beneath her boots. Down? What does that mean here?
“It’s not your time yet, Commander!” Jane turned at the urgent voice, and there stood Ashley, a kind of desperate resolve in her gaze. “Down! They’re waiting for you!”
Before Jane could respond, Lieutenant Williams gave her a hard shove. Jane felt herself falling—plummeting—into the void.
***
Someone was gently stroking her hair, strand by strand, just the way she liked it. She sank into the sensation with pure delight. There was nothing else in the world, just the tender caress on her head.
“Jane,” someone murmured. “Come back to me… please. Please.”
“Keep stroking,” she asked the mysterious voice. “Don’t stop…”
“Jane, wake up, please,” the voice grew stronger now, louder, more commanding.
She opened her eyes, only to be blinded by a sharp light. It stung her head.
“Jane,” the voice repeated her name for the third time.
Her vision gradually adjusted to the brightness. She turned her head to the side and saw Garrus sitting beside her. They were in the med bay aboard the Normandy.
“Garrus…” she began, but her voice was still weak, uncertain.
“Jane, you said you wanted me to stroke your hair,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “I didn’t know humans enjoyed it that much.”
“Your favorite human does,” Jane said as she sat up on the bed, looking around. They were alone in the room.
“How do you feel?” Garrus asked, concern evident in his voice.
“Like I’ve had the nap of a lifetime. How long was I out?”
“Sixteen hours. You needed it, huh?”
“Mhm.” Jane sighed. “You know, Garrus, I had the strangest dream. It was… um… how do I put this?”
“What kind of dream?”
“That we had a child. And it was ours. Not adopted or anything…”
Garrus burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Yeah, Garrus, I know it’s ridiculous…”
“Jane, Novia’s with Traynor. She bought her a whole set of plastic animals, and they’re playing zoo together.”
“What? O… oh.” Memories came rushing back to Shepard like an avalanche. “Wait… Dufort! Where is he? Where is that slimy son of a bitch? I’m going to rip his legs off!”
Fueled by sudden adrenaline, she tried to leap out of bed, but the room spun, and her legs buckled. Garrus caught her in his arms.
“Jane, Jane, easy. You haven’t heard the most important thing yet. The war is over. The Reapers are all motionless. As soon as the signal reached them, they stopped. You did it.”
Shepard stared at him. She should have felt relief after all these years of struggle, but she didn’t. Instead, a gnawing unease settled in her chest, like a new kind of Reaper might emerge around the corner.
“And the Crucible? Did it explode? What about the people working on it?”
“They’re all fine. It didn’t explode. Only the main console couldn’t handle the energy and blew up. Lucky you and Dufort were wearing helmets.”
“Dufort… that motherfucker. Did you arrest him? Where is he?”
Garrus’s mandibles flared slightly in surprise.
“Arrest him? For what? He’s got a black eye and a dislocated joint. He said he fought Javik. That Javik was trying to betray you, that he was indoctrinated. Things apparently got… tense.”
“What?! Where is that lying Judas?!”
“Right now? He’s playing cards with James and Kaidan… Jane, what really happened? Liara… she’s taking Javik’s death hard—”
“Javik didn’t do anything wrong! It was Dufort who betrayed us! He had his own code that he wanted to upload instead of mine. He wanted to control the Reapers, to have the galaxy’s most powerful army at his beck and call. He paralyzed me with some pulse, and Javik fought him. And Dufort killed him. Killed Javik. Destroyed his armor and stabbed him straight through the heart. Javik… when he was dying, he told me Liara is carrying his child. He asked me to protect her. We have to help her, Garrus. And we need to lock Dufort up. That man is obsessed with me. He tried so desperately to seduce me during the mission—you have no idea how pathetic he was. And when he finally crossed the line, I gave him that black eye.”
Garrus took her hand in his.
“Oh, Spirits… Jane, I have a feeling you were the one who also dislocated his joint with such finesse.”
“Of course I did. Let’s go. We need to arrest him and lock him up somewhere—he can’t just walk around the ship like nothing happened. And I need to go see Liara.”
***
James and Kaidan were sipping beer, while Dufort sat across from them with a glass of wine in his good hand. Cards were laid out on the table. Jane’s eyes flicked to the bottle the wine had come from—an upscale brand. How in the galaxy had something like that ended up on the Normandy?
“Ah, Jane, my sleeping beauty, finally awake. You missed quite the celebration. Shall I pour you a glass? We deserve it—you and I. The galaxy owes us everything.”
“James, Kaidan,” Jane said, ignoring him entirely, “arrest this prick and lock him in Port Observation. He doesn’t come out unless he needs to pee. And even then, I want a guard watching him.”
“What? Why?” Kaidan asked, clearly tipsy. They must have already had a few beers—empty bottles were scattered across the floor.
“The bastard’s damn good at poker,” James added. “But why are we arresting him?”
“Of course he’s good, because he’s a cheat, a fraud, and a liar. He killed Javik! And he tried to upload his own code into the Crucible to take control of the Reapers!”
Kaidan and James exchanged stunned looks.
“Wait—what? He said he helped us win. He’s been going on about it all night,” Kaidan began, hiccupping from the beer.
“Major Alenko, you don’t care what he said. You care about what I’m saying! And I’m saying arrest him!”
“Well, uh… alright… alright…” Kaidan muttered, attempting to stand but wobbling slightly.
“Ha, he’s drunk off just beer,” Dufort chuckled, entirely unfazed by the fact that his freedom was about to be stripped away.
“Alright, Garrus, we’ll handle this ourselves,” Jane said, rolling up her sleeves. “Get up, Cerberus prince, the party’s over.”
“Oh, Jane, won’t you have a drink with me first?” Dufort grinned, flashing his perfect teeth—but Garrus was already grabbing him by the collar.
They escorted Dufort to Port Observation. On the way, the officer babbled nonstop, as if trying to mask his nerves.
"Jane! Jane! Surely, we can talk this through, like the reasonable adults we are? You’re not seriously going to lock me up in some dreary corner of this ship, are you? After everything we’ve been through? After the Crucible? I mean, I was indispensable—your guide, your ally! Your knight in shining armor, as it were! And now you repay me with—what, a cell? A Oh, Jane, think of my poor, shattered heart! Do you want to break it? Is that it? Oh, and by the way, will I at least get to take a shower?”
“No,” Garrus growled, shoving him into Port Observation.
"Oh, Jane," Dufort continued digging his grave. "I was there for the Lazarus Project. I saw you, so defenseless, so vulnerable. I saw your body, Jane. You’re a masterpiece, the finest art."
"Mm-hmm. Memorize that sight well because jerking off is all you’ve got left," Jane shot back.
She encrypted the door and assigned two crew members to stand guard, just in case Dufort turned out to have some extraordinary hacking skills up his sleeve.
Garrus gently wrapped an arm around Shepard.
“How are you feeling, Jane?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a quiet concern.
How did she feel? The full weight of what had just happened hadn’t hit her yet. The Reapers—those relentless, towering machines—had simply… stopped. Like a flickering lamp unplugged from the wall.
“I’m just glad you’re here with me,” she said honestly. “Now I’m going to check on Liara. Let’s talk over dinner, okay?”
Garrus nodded, his mandibles spreading slightly in a familiar, comforting way. “I’ll be here. Always.”
***
Liara sat at her desk, staring blankly at the data displayed on her console, though it was clear her mind wasn’t focused on the words or numbers scrolling past.
“Good morning, Commander,” Glyph greeted Jane with its synthetic voice.
“Liara?” Shepard placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Shepard…” The asari turned to look at her, and the pain in her eyes shone brightly.
“Javik didn’t do anything wrong, Liara. It was Dufort who betrayed us. He’s the one who killed Javik. Javik died a hero.”
“I know. I didn’t believe a single word Dufort said.”
“We’ve already locked him up. He will rot in a cell for the rest of his miserable life,” Shepard said as she sat in a chair beside her. “Liara, can we talk?”
“If you need to, Shepard…” Liara’s voice cracked, and Jane’s chest tightened at the sight of her friend struggling to hold herself together.
Jane leaned forward, her hand still on Liara’s shoulder. “Liara, when Javik was dying, he told me something. Something very important.” She hesitated, meeting the asari’s glassy gaze. “You’re carrying his child, aren’t you?”
Liara didn’t respond verbally; instead, tears welled up and slipped silently down her cheeks. She nodded. Jane reached out instinctively, brushing away one of the tears with the back of her hand.
“Javik asked me to promise him something—to protect you. To help you. Liara, you’ll never be alone, okay? Garrus and I will help you. Our daughters will grow up together in a safe galaxy without war. Javik wanted me to tell you that he loved you. He died with your name on his lips.”
Liara began to cry. Jane stood and gently embraced her. They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, with the hum of machines and the beeping of the console in the background.
“Shepard… I’m scared. I have to raise this child as a single parent…”
“No, Liara, you won’t be alone. You’ll never be alone. Everyone here on the Normandy is one big family, right? If you ever need anything, just tell me, okay?”
Liara hesitated before whispering, “Thank you, Shepard. Truly.”
They sat back down, and after a long pause, Liara broke the silence. “Commander… What really happened? At the Crucible?”
Jane told her about the narrow tunnels, the massive console, the code, Dufort’s betrayal, and Javik’s heroic fight—and his senseless death.
“He wanted so badly to end it,” Liara said, her voice trembling. “He fought this same war twice, and he just wanted to see the Reapers fall at last. He wanted a future for me, for our child. And he died five minutes before it happened…”
“He saw the fall of the Reapers, Liara. He saw it from above. And he’ll see your child too.”
“Do you think… the Protheans go to the same place we do after death?”
“Yes, Liara,” Jane said with certainty. “I’m sure of it.”
Chapter Text
The sun shone, as it had for millions of years, as it would for millions more. The sky was clear, untainted by a single cloud that might blemish its timeless blue or threaten rain. Only the full, round moon hung in the western sky, stabilizing Earth's orbit as it had for eons. Now, however, it was completely obscured by the trees—ancient and towering machines of oxygen production.
“Novia, don’t wander too far,” Jane called out, watching as Novia darted through the forest floor with a tiny child’s magnifying glass in her hand. Ever since they’d arrived on Earth, Novia had developed an absolute fascination with bugs and insects. Having spent her early years on space stations and starships, the little girl had no idea that life could fill every corner of a planet like this—that beneath every stone, some critter waited to be examined and prodded with a stick.
“Nothing’s going to bite her, right?” Garrus asked Jane, slightly concerned. It was his first time on Earth.
“At worst, a mosquito. This isn’t the Amazon jungle. She’ll be fine,” Jane reassured him, watching Novia brush aside leaves to reveal a bustling ant nest.
The two of them sat on a thick blanket, leaning against a tree. A bag full of sandwiches lay between them, waiting for when hunger struck. Jane rested her head on Garrus’s shoulder, and he gently took her hand. They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s presence while keeping a watchful eye on Novia.
“Uh, Jane?” Garrus’s voice broke the quiet, and it sounded a little nervous.
“Yes, honey? Something wrong?”
“Oh, no, no. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just… been thinking a lot lately. And there’s something I want to give you…”
“To give me? Is it a special occasion? A turian holiday? Did I miss something?”
“No, Jane, it’s… uh… I did some research on human customs and traditions…” Garrus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “I hope this is the right protocol for… for…”
“For what, Garrus?” Jane raised an eyebrow, her gaze darting between the box and Garrus’s face, where his mandibles twitched nervously.
Garrus hesitated, his claws tightening slightly around the box. C’mon. Get it together, Vakarian. He inhaled, steadying himself. “Jane… We’ve faced just about every nightmare the universe could throw at us. You’re my love, my favorite human, my commander, and the mother of my child. I love you deeply—so deeply I never thought I was capable of feeling this way until you appeared. Back then, on the Citadel, when we were both chasing Saren. Something inside me shifted—a chord I didn’t know existed was struck. Jane… I love you. I want to protect you, to live with you, to watch Novia grow up with you.”
Jane smiled widely, knowing exactly where Garrus was headed, her heart racing in anticipation.
Garrus opened the box, revealing a modest silver ring with a green gemstone that sparkled in the sunlight filtering through the trees.
“Will you make this turian the luckiest soul in the galaxy and be my wife?”
Jane burst into laughter, a joyful and heartfelt sound that echoed through the trees. For a moment, Garrus wasn’t sure if she was laughing out of happiness or at his awkward delivery. A few meters away, Novia looked up from the ant nest, intrigued by the commotion.
“Garrus, Garrus, Garrus,” Jane said warmly, her hand gently caressing his face. “My poor awkward turian. Of course, I’ll be your wife. I’m not giving you to anyone else.”
She kissed his mandible tenderly. Garrus carefully took the ring from the box and ceremoniously slid it onto her left hand.
“So… this is the right protocol for a proposal, right?” he asked. “Joker didn’t lead me astray?”
“Of course, it’s perfect. Did Joker help you pick the ring?”
“No. I wanted to do it myself. I don’t really know much about this—turians don’t wear things like this… but I wanted the stone to be green, to match your eyes. It’s peridot, mined from an asteroid belt on the outskirts of your solar system. Jane… do you like it?”
“Of course, I do, Garrus. You’re the best.”
“I have someone worth the effort.”
Jane stretched her left hand out in front of her, admiring how the ring fit perfectly on her finger.
“Garrus, how did you even know what size to get?”
“I measured with my omni-tool while you were asleep.”
“You’re adorable.”
Novia had been watching them closely, sensing that something important was happening. She even abandoned her ant investigation.
“Novia, sweetheart, come here for a moment,” Jane called, and Novia ran over, squeezing herself between her parents.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Do you know what just happened, little bird?” Garrus asked, stroking her hair. Novia shook her head.
“Dad just gave Mom a ring,” Jane explained, holding out her hand.
“Shiny,” Novia said, taking Jane’s finger in her tiny hand to examine it more closely.
“Do you know what that means?” Jane asked gently. Novia tilted her head in curiosity.
“It means Mom and Dad will be married soon,” Garrus explained. “Dad will always love Mom, and always protect her. And we’ll both always love you, Novia. Always.”
“Love means hugs?” Novia asked, mixing human and turian words in her sentence.
Jane laughed softly, pulling her into her lap and wrapping her arms around her. “Yes, sweetheart. Love means hugs.”
“Can I have a ring too?” the little girl asked again.
“One day, someone will give you a ring too, Novia. And it’ll be just as special as this one,” Jane promised.
“Okay,” Novia said with a bright smile.
Garrus wrapped his arms around both of them, his family, feeling for the first time in many years a deep and blissful peace within his soul.
Hola_Soy_Zel on Chapter 3 Wed 20 Nov 2024 06:00PM UTC
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