2172

"John."

Hannah's voice was quiet. Tentative.

"I wish I could change your mind."

John glanced over his shoulder at his mother and sent her a cold look.

"You can't."

Something flickered in Hannah's eyes, and she looked at the bag on John's bed.

"I know," she said softly. "Since you're determined to go through with this, I have something for you."

"I'm good," John replied shortly.

"John…"

"I have to finish packing," he said, his voice flat.

"I don't know why you sold this," Hannah continued. "Why you thought you couldn't ask me for the money you needed. Or what you used it for. But your father would have wanted you to have it regardless, so when Jeffries told me he saw you selling it on the Citadel, I bought it back."

Hesitantly, she stepped closer to John, and handed him the sniper rifle he hadn't noticed before. The sniper rifle John sold to pay for the private investigator looking for his sister.

A sister no one could find. John had long since given up on his search for Janey. The prostitute who supposedly took Janey in was murdered, and his sister wasn't among the children Child Protective Services put into the system. The former owner of the diner, the woman who had placed the call to the hospital, was long dead, and no one seemed to know anything about a little red-headed girl who'd gone missing.

He stared at the rifle, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"I have to finish packing," he repeated, and turned back to his luggage.

A datapad next to his bag contained a list of items he would need for basic training. The Einstein would be arriving at Arcturus Station in a few hours. From there, he would take a shuttle to Earth and enlist. Follow in his father's footsteps.

Hannah was silent, but didn't move from her spot at his door, watching him place underwear, socks and other supplies in the duffel.

John ignored her as he continued packing, following the list Hackett had given him. Once he placed the last item in the bag he paused, looking down at the contents, and sighed.

"All done?" She asked.

John grit his teeth and turned to face her. "Yep. Three hours until we reach Arcturus Station, and I can get the fuck off this ship."

"John, just because you are 18 now doesn't mean that you should use such ugly language," Hannah chastised. "Here. Please take the rifle?"

John turned to face her, and reached for the firearm. "I sold it to look for my sister," he said as he wrapped his hands around the padded stock and dull barrel, staring down at the rifle, strange emotions coursing through him.

Shock crossed Hannah's features, her jaw dropping open unattractively. "What? John… What are you – "

John lifted his head and looked Hannah in the face. She looked terrified, and John felt a wave of fury.

"I know," he hissed. "I know about Jane. I know she's alive. I know what you did."

All color drained from Hannah's face.

"Oh, God," she whispered, crossing his room and sitting heavily in his desk chair. "How long? How long have you known?"

"It doesn't matter," he snarled. "All that matters is that I know. And now I never want to see you – ever again."

She stared at him in shock, arms wrapped tightly around her small frame. "John…"

"I don't want to hear it," he said, eyes narrowing. "There is no excuse, there is no…" His voice wavered, and John pressed his lips together tightly, struggling for control. "She's my sister. I was supposed to take care of her."

Tears filled Hannah's eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks silently. She said nothing, just continued to stare at him with a pathetic, pleading expression.

"You let me believe she was dead," John continued, his voice low, accusatory. "You let me believe my own sister – my flesh and blood – was dead."

"I'm sorry," Hannah whispered.

John stared at her for a long moment, then grabbed his bag off the bed. "Sorry isn't good enough," he said, his voice ringing with finality, and moved towards the door.

John paused before walking out, and looked back at his mother. "I never want to see you again," he said in a quiet, controlled voice. "From now on, I'm just as dead to you as my sister was to me."

The heartbreak and devastation was apparent on Hannah's face. John forced the guilt down, and marched out of the cabin. He didn't look back. He would never look back.

From now on, John decided, no more looking back. From now on, John would move forward.

2174

"Good job, Garcia," John complimented the small brunette. The pair were laying prone at the range, sniper rifles extending before them. The faint blue of John's Avenger was especially apparent in comparison with the brighter, fresher blue of Garcia's newer Avenger. Frank had been right. The Alliance sniper rifles weren't nearly as good a quality as the one he'd modded for his son. "You're improving."

"Thanks, sir," Garcia replied, sending him a tight grin. "I've been thinking about my weight, actually."

Amused, John pushed himself up off the ground. "I've been told that men shouldn't talk to women about their weight."

"I'm not a woman," Garcia replied, her tone amused. "I'm a marine."

John laughed. He liked this woman. She was smart, funny and creative. If only she weren't married and incredibly loyal to her wheelchair bound husband.

"Go on," he invited.

Garcia pushed herself up, and hefted the sniper rifle in her hands. "I'm too small for sniper rifles, really. I'm strong enough, but the kickback dislodges me. So what if I install some upgrades on my armor to make me heavier?"

He gave her an impressed look. "How so?"

"Gravimetrics," Garcia explained, activating her omnitool. "Gadget just sent me some specs on new tech that she's developing – "

"Let me see," he ordered. For some reason, Garcia's best friend Gadget rubbed him the wrong way. They'd only met twice, once at a bar and once right before she'd shipped off to Arcturus. Both times John hadn't said a single word to her, but somehow she unnerved him. She was brilliant with tech, however, and together she and Garcia came up with some frightening upgrades to weapons and armor.

Obediently, Garcia sent the specs to John's omnitool. He scanned what Gadget had sent Garcia and whistled quietly.

"Did she develop this by herself?"

Garcia stood up and nodded, brushing dust from her BDUs. "Yeah, Gadget's pretty brilliant."

The tech had the ability to lighten heavy armor or make it heavier using small, electrically generated, mass effect fields. Gravimetric suit enhancements, Gadget called them.

"She should have gone to a private firm," he observed quietly. "She'd be making a killing."

Garcia grinned, and took the rifle to a weapons bench to disassemble and clean. "When Commander Anderson recruited us we didn't have many options," she explained. "He gave us a way out, and Gadget is nothing if not loyal to the people who have her back. She's never going to leave the Alliance now."

"You were recruited by Anderson?" John exclaimed. "David Anderson? The first ever N7?"

"The one and the same," Garcia replied, nodding, taking out the gun oil and some soft, clean rags. "We didn't know about that then, though."

John's respect of Garcia went up dramatically. "You must have impressed him to get his attention like that."

"Wasn't me," Garcia explained, breaking the rifle down into its individual parts, wrapping the cloth around a rod and soaking the rag in oil. "He wanted Gadge, I just got swept up in the deal."

A grudging respect for the other woman washed over John and he nodded. "I see. Well. These specs look promising, and would help you with your sniping."

Garcia nodded at him, her eyes cheerful. "I thought so. She's coming to Geiger next week for war games, and she said she'd help me install these in my armor."

She continued cleaning her rifle.

"She's coming for war games, huh?"

"Well, she needs to get more than just simulator combat experience," Garcia explained. "Hey, have you picked your team for war games, yet?"

John shook his head. "No, I have until tomorrow to put in my request."

"Well, she would be a fine addition to any team," Garcia shrugged. "You know. Just in case."

John didn't reply. "Maybe. I'll put her down as a possible alternate. Jane Gadget?"

Garcia laughed and shook her head. "Naw, Jane's last name is Singer. Gadget is just a nickname."

John felt like the ground dropped out from under him.

"Jane Singer?" He whispered.

No. She couldn't be his sister. It was impossible. Jane Singer was far too common of a name for it to mean anything.

But somewhere, deep inside, John felt a glimmer of hope. Could it be her? Could this be the sister he'd so long, so desperately sought?

Hearing the sudden distress in John's voice, Garcia looked over at him, concerned. "Are you ok, sir?"

Distracted, John nodded, and walked away, heading straight for his office. When he arrived, he sat at his desk, nodding to the other instructors sitting at their desks, and pulled up the internal search engine.

Private Jane Singer.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun in the picture in her file. John closed his eyes and struggled to remember the little sister he hadn't seen in fifteen years. He remembered her red hair, her pale skin, and her green eyes. But he couldn't picture his sister as an adult. Her pictures gave him no clues.

His eyes skimmed her file until he found the information he was looking for – date and place of birth. His face fell, hopes dashed, when his eyes landed on her birthday. His sister's birthday was March 12th, 2156, but this Jane Singer's birthday was February 20th, 2155. Of course, it couldn't be his sister. She was too young to enlist.

He closed her file with a sigh. It wasn't her.

Maybe it was time to let his dreams of finding his sister go.

2186

John sat alone in the Starboard Observatory, wringing his hands absently, the sounds of Victus's quiet, grieving keens running through his mind non-stop. A father should never have to outlive a son, even if the son died as a hero.

John had left the Primarch alone in the lounge to collect himself, and crossed to the Observatory to do much the same for himself.

"EDI," John said quietly.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Would you send a request for an update on Kaidan to Huerta Memorial, please?" John asked quietly. Losing a soldier like Tarquin Victus had reminded him that he'd almost lost another valuable soldier in this battle against the Reapers, and he hadn't bothered to check on him once since the last time they'd been to the Citadel.

Kaidan had informed him that Udina had asked him to be the next human Spectre. John had to admit that the dark-haired biotic was the perfect fit for the role, with clearly defined views of what was right and wrong. His moral compass wouldn't steer him the wrong way.

"Of course, Shepard," EDI replied quietly.

The door to Starboard Observation opened, but John didn't turn to look at whoever came in.

"Shepard. Test verified. Results promising. Can synthesize for universal krogan immunity."

"Good. So you can put your knife away?"

John turned slowly to face Mordin and Wrex. The salarian was all but jumping from foot to foot, the krogan standing frighteningly still.

"The cure is ready?" John asked, hope coloring his tone.

"No," Mordin admitted, moving into the room, and standing before John. "Still need transmission vector. Cure useless unless given to entire species."

He sighed, and closed his eyes. "Come on, Mordin. You're usually full of ideas. You altered the genophage before. There must be a way."

At the mention of altering the genophage, a wave of guilt washed over Mordin's amphibious face. It cleared after a few moments as the cogs in Mordin's head obviously started turning.

"Of course. Always possibilities," Mordin mused quietly. "But time limited. Create new infection strain from scratch. Ground water? No, too slow. Voluntary inoculations risky. Population too scattered for airborne… unless…" Mordin's eyes widened, and he turned to Wrex. "The Shroud!"

"The Shroud?" John asked, looking between the krogan leader and salarian scientist.

"The Shroud," Mordin said, a smile on his face, and he fired up his omnitool. "Constant global dispersion of air particles. Created by salarians to repair atmosphere of Tuckanka." Mordin hesitated and looked at Wrex uncomfortably. "Also used by turians. Secretly dispersed genophage to end krogan rebellions."

John closed his eyes for a moment, then met Wrex's inscrutable gaze. "Sometimes I understand why the krogan want to shoot everyone in sight."

Wrex let out a quiet laugh, crossing his massively muscular arms over his chest.

"Yes, yes. Desperate times, but useful now," Mordin interjected. "Original genophage strain still in storage at Shroud facility. Can use it as transmission vector. Use Shroud to blanket Tuchanka with cure."

"You clever little pyjak," Wrex said appreciatively. "That's our best shot right there."

Something dangerous suddenly sparked to life in John's chest. Hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, something would finally go right.

"Alright," he said finally. "Finish your preparations, be ready to go, Mordin."

The salarian sent John a faint smile. "Of course. Ready when you need me. Will be in medbay with Eve until then," he nodded at Wrex and walked out of the lounge.

Once the doors closed behind Mordin, Wrex turned to John and speared him with a deadly glare. "So. Shepard. You didn't think to tell me about the bomb on Tuchanka?"

John let out a long sigh. "Wrex, don't play games with me. You would have done the same thing in my place. And you would have done the same damned thing in the turians' place, too, so drop it. Victus's own son died to prevent that bomb from going off. The turians are making amends."

"Not enough to tell us about the bomb," Wrex muttered. "Cowards."

"Wrex," John said in a dangerous voice, standing up and taking a step towards the krogan warlord. "I love you like an older, uglier brother, but don't push me. We're curing the fucking genophage. A bomb no one – including Victus, until a few days ago – knew about has been disarmed safely. This fight isn't worth it."

Wrex considered John's words for a long moment, then nodded. "Fine. You made your point. We have stronger enemies to face."

"Commander," Traynor's soft lilt flooded the speakers in the Observatory. "You and Wrex should come up to the War Room. We've made a… discovery."

John met Wrex's eyes, and gestured for the krogan to precede him out of the room.

He should have known better than to hope, John admitted to himself, listening to Mordin explain about the reaper poisoning the krogan atmosphere through the Shroud.

"Primarch, we're going to need your help," John informed the turian. Victus had been in the War Room when John and Wrex arrived, and seemed none the worse for wear.

John knew that the older man had to be hurting. He knew enough about turians to realize that Victus was pushing his emotions aside in the face of great adversity, but still John was impressed by how composed the grieving turian seemed.

"That might be difficult," Victus mused. "Our losses on Palaven have been catastrophic."

"We're doing this for Palaven," John almost snapped. "No one said this would be easy."

He could see the grudging acceptance on Victus's face. Hope. Damn it. Hope flared again.

"Let's move, pyjaks," Wrex grunted, striding towards the doors. "It's time to cure the genophage."

John moved to follow the krogan when Traynor's voice flooded the comms again.

"Commander," she informed him. "Incoming message marked urgent. I've put it in the comm room."

Mordin, Eve and Jane sat on one side of the shuttle, John, Garrus and Wrex on the other. John was quietly regarding the passengers in the shuttle, and thinking over the proposal the dalatrass had given him.

She had one hell of a lot of nerve. Sabotage the cure. Bitch. He'd told Mordin about the sabotage to the Shroud before they'd left the ship, and Mordin had actually laughed.

"Think STG can stop me? Learned everything they know from me," he'd said, a dangerous expression on his face.

"Wrex," Jane teased. "Are you sure you're ready for this after your… procedure?"

Eve chuckled quietly as Wrex glowered at John's sister.

"One more word and somebody gets tossed out of the shuttle," he muttered.

Garrus couldn't hold in the snort, Mordin's visage split into a wry grin.

"Now, I've ordered the clans to meet us at the Hollows. It's our sacred meeting ground," Wrex explained. "We'll land there and take an armored convoy against the reaper. This," he said, his voice grave, "will be the defining moment of krogan history."

Mordin snorted. "Krogan history filled with defining moments. Most bloody. Hope this one better."

Eve's steady gaze hadn't left John's face since the shuttle had taken off.

"Commander," she said softly. "You seem troubled."

The krogan shaman was right. He was troubled. Hope and despair were gunning for position in the forefront of his mind. He worried they wouldn't be able to take down the reaper. Worried the cure wouldn't work. Worried that once the cure was dispersed Wrex would go back on his word and let the galaxy burn around him.

But he also felt that they just couldn't fail. That everything was lining up to go right.

"Wrex, it's Wreave," a krogan voice sounding frighteningly similar to Wrex's announced. "The reapers are already at the Hollows. Come out with guns blazing."

"Hold on," Cortex called from the cockpit. "We're going in."

The shuttle landing was violent, the Kodiak rocking back and forth in the turbulence. Once Cortez set down, Wrex opened the doors impatiently. A husk threw itself at the krogan warlord, but Wrex, without blinking an eye, shot the husk in the head with his Claymore. The tech-infused skull vanished in a black mist, the husk's body crumpling slowly to the ground.

It was almost graceful.

Wrex moved to reunite with the clans, leaving John, Jane and Garrus to do what they did best.

"Everyone pick your targets and keep an eye on your six," John ordered, leading them towards the Hollows. "Let's go!"

There were husks everywhere. The Hollows looked like an open-air cathedral with a raised stone dais in the middle of the round chamber. The clearing was surrounded by high walls littered with balconies on all sides, and huge stone staircases provided access from all four directions.

Garrus swapped out his sniper for his assault rifle.

"I hate close combat," he complained quietly.

"Then hang back and watch me work my magic!" Jane crowed, unsheathing her sword.

"He'd just watch your ass," John shot back. "Everyone ready?"

"Hooyah," Jane replied, disappearing from sight. He tracked her movements through the ripple of her tactical cloak, appearing behind a husk that she quickly cut in half, before spinning artfully, and stabbing a second husk through the stomach.

Her glittering sword cut through the cluster of husks she'd attacked, tightly controlled motions maiming and killing efficiently. Soon the husks surrounding her were falling to her blade, heads rolling away, a pool of black reaper blood spreading out around her.

"Pick up your jaw, Vakarian, and kill some fucking husks, would ya?" John snapped, shotgun in hand, when he noticed Garrus holding back and watching her fight appreciatively.

"She said to watch her work," he shrugged, grinning, then rushed down the stairs, shooting a husk sneaking up behind Jane in the middle of his forehead.

The battle was short – intense, but bloody. Husks swarmed them from all sides. John smashed in husk skulls between shooting them in the face. It was simple, uncomplicated killing. It felt great.

"Clear!" Jane whooped when it appeared that the waves of husks had stopped. She returned to John's side, and removed her recon hood. "God, that felt awesome."

John grinned at her, nodding. "I know what you mean."

Garrus looked at the two of them curiously. "You're both insane."

The siblings looked at each other and laughed.

"Probably, Garrus, probably," John agreed.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stone drew their attention to the krogan clans arriving in the Hollows. Wrex, followed by a large group of krogan, walked down the stairs, covered in reaper blood.

"They'll sing battle songs about this one day," Wrex bellowed. "Reaper blood has finally soaked our soil!"

Krogan appeared from everywhere, until suddenly Jane, Garrus, and John were outnumbered twenty-to-one. The krogan warriors released lengthy bellows of celebration, and soon the Hollows were reverberating with the deep, dangerous sound of a krogan war cry.

Mordin stepped out of the crowd of krogan who had arrived with Wrex and walked towards Shepard.

"Female safe, Shepard," Mordin reported. "Vitals are strong."

"What's a salarian doin' here?"

A second group of krogan arrived from the other side of the Hollows, led by a huge krogan who looked nearly identical to Wrex.

"Nobody said anything about this," he finished off disdainfully, spitting in Mordin's direction.

"Multiple krogan," Mordin said quietly. "Problematic."

"He doesn't seem to have any problems with me," Garrus observed quietly, his tone sarcastic.

"Don't draw attention to yourself, hot stuff," Jane muttered back. "I'm sure the big, bad krogan will notice you soon enough. Mortal enemy and all that."

"Who're you?" John asked impatiently, shooting Jane a glare. They didn't have time for a power struggle. They had to get to the Shroud as quickly as possible.

"Urdnot Wreave," Jane introduced, surprising everyone in the Hollows. "Brood brother to – "

"Our illustrious leader," Wreave interjected, narrowing his eyes at John's sister.

"Wreave and Wrex share the same mother," Jane expanded.

"And nothing else," Wrex grumbled. "How do you know about this, pyjak?"

"There was a bounty on Wreave's head a few years back," she explained.

"And my dear brother Wrex tried to claim it," Wreave growled.

"Can you blame me?" Wrex grinned. "You might be my brother by blood, but that is where it ends."

"And the bounty was two million credits," Jane said dryly.

"I'd consider turning in my sister for two million credits," Garrus quipped.

John sent the pair a warning look, and turned back to the drama unfolding before him.

"For which I am thankful," Wreave shot back at Wrex. "I remember what it means to be a true krogan!"

Jane snorted. "What, you flay your enemies alive and drown them in a fountain of their own blood? This salarian is your greatest ally. He is here to cure the genophage."

"Jane," John warned in a low voice.

"His kind gave us the genophage in the first place," Wreave snarled, stalking towards Jane with a dangerous look on his face. "Why should we trust him?"

Wrex stepped in front of Wreave and head butted him forcefully. Wreave let out a loud grunt and staggered back as the surrounding krogan growled.

"Why should you trust him? Because I do!" Wrex bellowed. "And so will you, Wreave," he continued in a quieter, more dangerous voice.

Wreave stared at his brother for a long moment before pulling his shotgun out of its holster and pointing it at Wrex.

"ENOUGH."

John, who'd pulled his Eviscerator out the moment Wreave had made a move for his shotgun, spun on his heel to find the source of the strong, commanding voice.

To his surprise, Eve stood at the top of the stairs of the Hollow, regal, proud. She looked over the krogan standing before her imperiously before beginning to make her way down the stairs towards them, her head held high.

The krogan males fell silent and lowered their weapons, turning to face her respectfully.

"You can stay here," she said disdainfully. "Let old wounds fester. As the krogan have always done…" She strode through the krogan, who parted before her, and climbed to the top of the stone dias, turning back to face the krogan who stood before her.

"Or," she continued, her voice strong and passionate. "You can fight the enemy you were born to destroy… and win a new future for our children. I choose to fight."

Her eyes narrowed, and paused on the faces of each krogan in turn. "Who will join me?"

"I will," John replied, he voice ringing through the Hollows.

"And so will I," Wrex answered. "Now hold your heads high like true krogan. There's a reaper that needs killing!"

"Eve is one bad ass bitch in charge," Jane observed quietly.

"Yes," Mordin agreed. "Hope she survives."

The resounding war cry that followed Wrex's pronouncement was deafening, and John felt that treacherous emotion again.

Hope.

Fucking hope.

Every time he let himself hope, they suffered another damned set-back.

Garrus, Jane and John had been separated from the convoy heading to engage the reaper destroyer after the road to the Shroud facility had collapsed. The turian air support had been decimated and they'd called off their attack to save their diminishing numbers. Better still, John and his team were stuck underground.

"You know, I don't mind small spaces," Jane sighed as they headed deeper underground. "I don't mind crawling through the access tunnels and tubes in the Normandy. But caves? Caves I can do without."

Garrus laughed quietly. "Scared of more alien cave spiders?"

"Screw you," Jane replied without heat.

"Wrex, are you receiving this?" John said hopefully, ignoring his sister and best friend's banter. "Is everyone ok?"

"Yeah, just scratches," Wrex replied. "Nothing the salarian can't patch up." There was a long pause. "Wreave's truck made it out, too."

"Bully for him," Jane muttered. She jumped down off a ledge, and clicked on her flashlight.

"The turians had to call off the air strike," John reported, following his sister off the ledge and deeper underground. "We'll need a new plan for dealing with the reaper."

"First we'll have to find you," Wrex answered back. "Where did you end up?"

John looked around, taking in the caves.

"Underground. We see ruins of some kind," John described.

"Commander, that's the city of the ancients," Eve interjected.

"How do we get out?"

"No maps exist," Eve replied. "It's been abandoned for thousands of years."

"Great," Garrus muttered behind him. "Shepard, you really know how to show a guy a good time."

"Are you hitting on my brother?" Jane shot back, nervous laughter evident in her voice.

"You're a trailblazer, Shepard," Wrex laughed. "Get through there and we'll find a place to meet up."

Suddenly the ground heaved and shook underneath their feet, causing John to stagger to his knees.

"What the hell was that?" Jane exclaimed, bracing herself against a wall.

"Who knows. Some kind of tremor," John muttered, his flashlight illuminating a giant statue of a krogan. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

As they pressed onwards, their flashlights gave them small insight into the lives of krogan before the salarians uplifted them. Jane gasped when she stumbled across a mural of krogan riding on the backs of some large animal.

"Look like those pictures of rhinos from school," John snorted.

"Wow," Jane breathed, lifting her omnitool to take a picture. "Liara would shit her pants if she could see this."

"I didn't know krogan knew how to paint," Garrus observed. "I wonder what would have happened if history had unfolded the way it was supposed to."

The ground shook violently once again, dust coming off the ceiling in waves.

"Do you think that's the reaper?" Jane asked, her voice tight and stressed.

"No, it's coming from below," Garrus observed. "Not above."

John looked back to see that Jane had frozen in place.

"Janey?" He asked, concerned, crossing to her side.

"From below," she whispered, then shook herself, lifting her head.

"You ok, Janey?" John pressed, putting a hand on her arm.

Jane nodded absently, distracted. "Yes. I'm fine," she replied woodenly. John didn't believe her for a single second. "Let's go."

John, casting several glances back at her, concerned, continued leading the way forward. Again, the ground shook beneath their feet; again, John staggered to his knees.

"There it is again," John grunted, pushing himself up. He glanced back at Jane, who'd also fallen to the ground. Garrus was helping her stand.

"It doesn't feel like a normal tremor," Garrus's sub-harmonics had taken on a faint note of fear and concern as well, John noted.

"Wrex," John pressed his fingers to his comm as he led Garrus and Jane forward. "Are you guys feeling these tremors?"

"Not up here," Wrex replied.

"It could be something else, Commander," Eve informed him. "It is said that Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws, lives in this region," she continued.

John let out a long sigh of relief. Thresher maws he could handle. He'd already killed hundreds of the fuckers.

"Which is another reason to get your ass outta there, Shepard! Step on it!" Wrex added, and cut the comm.

John turned the corned, and came upon another mural. This one was of a thresher maw.

"Did…" Jane's voice was shaking slightly. "Did we just hear that correctly? Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws?"

"When the krogan name a thresher maw you know you're in trouble," Garrus joked, the earlier tension in his voice now gone. Garrus had been a part of killing most of the thresher maws John had killed. "They don't think anyone is going to kill it."

"I… the mother? Of all thresher maws? I… Holy shit," Jane's voice was thin and reedy with fear.

John glanced back at her, grinning. "What, are you afraid of thresher maws, Janey?"

Jane didn't reply, so John turned to face her.

"Jane," he said seriously. "I don't care if you hate alien cave spiders, or if you are terrified of thresher maws, but we have to book it or we're going to lose this war. So buck up, baby sister."

Jane didn't reply, but she nodded once with finality. Not for the first time, John found himself cursing the recon hood obscuring her face.

"Let's get out of here," John ordered, and led them further into the City of Ancients.

What a shitstorm.

That was all John could think as he ran as fast as he could towards the first hammer outside the Shroud facility. Not for the first time, he wondered about the absurdity of this day.

Using a thresher maw as a weapon. A thresher maw. For all that he'd told Jane that he didn't have time for her fears, he felt a frisson of unease at the idea of using Kalros to take down a reaper.

Fuck. If a thresher maw even could take down a reaper.

But it was their only plan. Their only chance. So John ran, dodging the brutes that blocked his path, the reaper's main weapon destroying giant blocks of the City of the Ancient ruins.

"Jane!"

As always, their comms were left open. But John couldn't worry about the note of warning in Garrus's voice. Not now.

"Got him! Garrus, stay back!"

"Move, Jane, move!"

John, his heart thundering in his chest, breath loud in his ears, ran forward as fast as he possibly could, his legs pumping. He flew over the destroyed terrain, moving faster than the charging brutes behind him thanks to his Cerberus cybernetics.

Jane cried out in shock – pain – John wasn't sure, and Garrus roared in rage. Worry flooded him, but he forced it down. John only had one focus. One goal. Nothing would distract him.

The first hammer.

Small pieces of rock pierced his skin as a large stone block exploded when the reaper's weapon sought John's smaller, agile form. One of the reaper's legs smashed down in front of him, and John only managed to avoid being crushed by throwing himself to the side at the last second, rolling to his feet, and resuming his breakneck pace towards the hammer.

John could barely make it out in the dust and the debris flying about, the first of two tiny devices that would – hopefully – call Kalros to the Shroud. To kill the reaper.

Finally, after a last dash that took seconds, but felt like hours, John reached the first hammer. Following Eve's instructions, he quickly keyed in the activation sequence. Once he was certain the hammer activated, John spun back the way he'd come, moving with the same urgency to the second hammer.

One left to activate. One reaper and several brutes between him and it.

As John ran, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jane and Garrus fighting the remaining brutes… He counted quickly. Four. Four brutes. They'd already killed four of the hulking beasts, and it looked like another was about to fall under Garrus's fire and Jane's blood coated sword.

But he didn't pause. He kept running.

Vaguely, he was aware of Jane jumping on the back of the flagging brute, stabbing her sword down into its skull. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brute freeze, shudder, and start to fall. Jane managed to vault off its back and reach a safe distance before the brute finally crashed to the ground.

Vaguely, he was aware of the reaper, one leg rearing back to try to crush him again. John managing to dodge out of the way a second time, avoiding being crushed by inches. He could smell the stink of the monstrous machine it was so close, a faint burning like ozone and something that reminded him sickeningly of rotting meat. It was the most unnatural and alien thing he's ever smelled.

But John only had eyes for the second hammer. Through the destruction that surrounded him, his focus was on his end goal. He had to make it.

He heard Jane scream with feral rage, the rapid sound of Garrus's Indra. The death cry of another brute. Explosions became muted, everything around him faded away, until it was just John and the second hammer.

He crashed into it at full speed, starting the activation sequence. He staggered back, sound rushing into his ears, deafening him.

Then, a hollow boom sounded. The hammer struck once. Twice. Three times.

Then the ground shook. The reaper issued its terrible sound.

Jane and Garrus were running towards him, blood dripping ominously off of Jane's sword. Garrus's blue armor was covered in black blood. The pair looked terrifying.

"RUN!" He ordered Jane and Garrus. "Get back to the trucks, I'll take care of the cure!"

Jane surged forward, as though to follow him, but Garrus grabbed her around the waist, pulling her away as though she weighed nothing. He turned and ran as hard and fast as he could away from the reaper, pushing Jane ahead of him to make sure she followed John's orders.

John paused for only one moment, but it was long enough to see the ground explode outward. The explosion of soil and rocks was so violent, so big, it completely obscured anything that might hide inside. Then, the biggest thresher maw John had ever seen surged out of the ground and launched itself at the reaper.

The reaper activated its main weapon, trying to shoot Kalros, but the giant thresher maw was too fast. The weapon didn't even come close before she struck the reaper head on, forcing the machine back, away from the Shroud facility. The reaper's gun was jerked to the side, changing trajectory and passing so close to John he could feel the heat of the beam singing the hairs on the back of his neck.

As the reaper and Kalros battled, John scrambled over the rubble, struggling to reach the entrance to the Shroud facility, where Mordin would be waiting with the cure, ready to distribute it to the krogan people. When he finally reached the entrance, John couldn't help but turn back around to watch and see if their bat-shit crazy plan actually worked.

The reaper threw Kalros off as though she were nothing more than a worm. She struck the Shroud building forcefully, and sank back down underground. John watched, terrified she was fleeing from the fight.

But John should have known better. It was the thresher maw technique. She burrowed under the reaper, surging out of the ground behind the giant monster machine, latching on and pulling it into a death spiral.

The reaper was helpless to stop it, and was soon pulled underground in a heaving flurry of earth.

It didn't reappear.

Small, golden particles filled the air. They were beautiful.

His jaw clenched, an overwhelming sadness washed over him as John watched the cure spread from the Shroud facility into the atmosphere. Extending his hand to catch one, he watched as the slightly glowing particle disappeared into his glove.

John's eyes closed.

Mordin.

That stupid, selfless, scattered, brilliant salarian. Sarificing himself to save the krogan. A race that up until a few weeks ago he'd staunchly defended infecting with the genophage in the first place. It was completely fucked up.

He shook his head, eyes burning.

Behind him the hum of the Makos, the crunch of their heavy tires on the Tuchanka soil, warned of their arrival. Jane, Garrus, Eve and Wrex would soon descend upon him, would want to talk about the cure. About Mordin.

"Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong."

Damn the salarian for being right. No one else could have cured the genophage. No one else could have accounted for the STG sabotage of the Shroud. No one else could have guaranteed them the first fighting chance the galaxy had against the reapers.

Their heavy footsteps announced Wrex and Eve. Quieter steps followed. Jane. Garrus.

"Mordin?" Garrus asked hesitantly after a long moment.

Eve and Wrex walked forward silently, looking out over Tuchanka. Wrex lifted a giant hand to rest of Eve's shoulder.

John shook his head once. "Didn't make it. He… sacrificed himself to make sure the cure worked."

"Damn it," Garrus cursed quietly, the sudden grief evident in his subvocals.

Without another word, John turned and marched back into the Mako.

"John."

He looked up in surprise at his sister's voice. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs in the Loft, watching John with a concerned expression.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"You were pretty deep in thought," she said softly, sitting next to him on the couch. "I'm sorry about Mordin."

"He was a good friend," John sighed. "He…"

John's memory flashed to Tali. To the awkward conversation Mordin instigated about self-sterilization and avoiding oral contact. Heat flushed his cheeks briefly, then he shook his head and looked at his sister.

"He was a good friend," he repeated lamely, then fell silent.

"Sorry about freaking out over Kalros," Jane muttered when he didn't speak again.

"Have you ever seen a thresher maw before?" John asked, grateful for the change in subject.

Jane's eyes darkened slightly, and she nodded. "Yeah. And I lost three friends in that maw attack on Akuze," she laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. "I'm not exactly well equipped to take one on, either."

"Last time I went up against a thresher, I had a nuclear weapon at my disposal," John replied, reaching for her hand.

"Really?" Jane sent him a tight smile.

"Called the Cain. Heavy fucking gun, but damn did it pack a punch," John said. "I'm sorry about your friends."

"Thanks. Where are we headed now?" She asked, obviously changing the subject.

"Citadel," John answered, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "Aria wants to talk to me about Omega, Adams needs a new thermal pipe. Then we have to go to Noveria to secure a base out there."

"Noveria? Which hemisphere?" Jane asked, revulsion clear in her voice.

"North."

"Count me out, then," Jane laughed. "Fuck, Noveria is a frozen shithole this time of year. Crazy blizzards, ice storms, winter cyclones…"

"You and Garrus are fucking perfect for each other," John snickered. "Turians hate the cold."

A suddenly soft expression crossed Jane's face at the mention of the turian. "Yeah."

"Oh, you're done, aren't you?" John grinned widely.

Jane blushed faintly, the same soft expression still on her face. John stared at her for a long moment, then gasped.

"You've gone and fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

Jane's pale cheeks blushed a brighter red. "Shut up, I am not…" The redness disappeared from her cheeks as she paled with realization.

Her voice quieted, and she looked suddenly serious. "Well, fuck."

"Told you," John said triumphantly. "I know you better than you know yourself, sis."

She slumped back against the couch, a dazed look on her face. "John…"

He took her hand, squeezed. "It's going to be ok, Jane. Love is a good thing."

As Jane stared at their clasped hands, quiet and stunned, John's thoughts returned to Mordin. He'd been the one to help him realize the true depth of his feelings for Tali. Self-sterilization. He snorted, remembering how unpleasant his last shower before the Collector Base had been, scrubbing down with Mordin's specially formulated medicinal soap.

He'd been incredibly itchy for the entire mission on the Collector Base. But it had been worth it.

He'd have done anything to ensure that Tali was as safe as possible.

"I know how scary this is, Jane," John said, surprising himself.

She glanced over at him. "Yeah, falling in love right before the end of the galaxy, going into battle with him every other day… I'm sure you know exactly how scary this is."

John chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment.

"Jane, Tali wasn't just a favorite member of my ground squad," he admitted. "I mean, she was. Is. It wasn't until right before the suicide mission that I realized…"

Jane stared at him blankly for a long moment, before a sudden, blindingly happy smile graced her face. "Must be genetic," she mused, pulling him into an awkward, seated hug. "Both of us falling in love with dextros?"

He snorted. "Must be."

"So, where is she? Why isn't she on the ship?"

John's face fell. "I don't know. She's with the Flotilla, but I haven't heard from her since before my incarceration. She might not even be alive."

"Don't think like that, John," Jane stressed. "We'll find her. Bring her back to you."

Gratitude – and that fucking traitorous emotion, hope – filled him at his sister's words. Maybe they would find Tali. Maybe the quarians would appear and he could rush to the Flotilla, bring her back to him.

But for now, the Citadel was waiting.