Chapter Text
Sam’s not tired at all.
“This is Specialist Traynor of the Normandy SR-2. Commander Shepard of the Alliance was last seen at the following coordinates: 7QFI39284 on the Epsilon Grid, …
Not a bit. She taps at the garbled comm screens in the slightly smoking confines of the CIC and lets the static fill the space with everything except an actual signal, and her eyes don’t close at all. Sam just stares and stares and stares and waits for something to make sense.
Lectures at Oxford were a sleepy affair. She remembers cavernous halls more suitable for chamber orchestras than the delicate points of discrete mathematics. She’d nodded off more than once back then. Big Theta notation and the Extended Euclidean Algorithm were dull enough without the urge to close her eyes and slip into dreamland.
Sam had been trained for that, not this. Labs, not warships. Technocrats, not Commander Jane Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan, Savior of the Citadel, Hero of the entire bloody Galaxy and the most talented martyr that Sam’s ever had the misfortune of loving.
But no, she’s not tired.
“EDI- EDI’s still not responding. Can’t you do something?”
“Gabby’s gone down to the AI core, she’ll open it up and see. The overload to the absorbers in Engine IIA took down a lot of tech in that area when we pushed the FTL drive to capacity.”
“Wait- did her eyes just move? I think her eyes just moved!”
“Sir, it’s not just the mobile platform that shorted out, it’s the entire bloomin’ Normandy. Was it the Reaper beam? I don’t get it, why would it take EDI out and not us? It just doesn’t make sense-“
“Adams?”
“I read you.”
“I’ve lost all heat signatures down here. There’s no energy generation from anywhere in the AI core. No data coming through the mobile platform either.”
“That’s functionally impossible, she can’t just have disappeared.”
“Could she just be offline?”
“Negative. This isn’t a repression issue, she’s not there period. Wiped. Not even command line functionality. All logs are missing- she’s not just gone, there’s no trace EDI was ever here.”
There is a silence, and no matter how Sam strains she can’t hear a thing.
“I’m so sorry, Joker.”
“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to fix her!”
“Jeff-“
“Don’t call me that!”
Sam keeps listening. Still no signal. Nothing but white noise. And now, no voices either. Something heavy slams into the side of the wall up on the bridge and the reverberation sets her teeth on edge. It happens again. And then again. Sam swallows and raises her voice above the noise.
“This is Specialist Traynor of the Normandy SR-2…”
The elevator doors behind her whirr open. The floor-finding mechanism has miraculously survived the tech blackout. Someone’s heavy footsteps come up slowly behind her.
“Traynor.”
“James.”
His voice is husky with smoke inhalation. Hers isn’t much better.
On Earth, they hadn’t been helpless. Joker and EDI ran scouting missions with the Normandy’s stealth drive, opened the cargo hold periodically to shuttle Alliance soldiers to the front. The flashes of absolute carnage she’d seen, blasts of hellish sound that roared suddenly to life every time that hatch opened- those were already permanently imprinted on Sam’s mind.
Eyes closed, ears shut. Doesn’t matter.
But she couldn’t turn away. Always dashing from her command station down to the lower deck, moving as close to the opening as possible every time they’d touched down, hoping for a glimpse of Jane.
James rubs a hand across the top of his head. His hand comes away streaked with ash and some gunk that the husks leave when they attack.
“Most of the crew is breaking into sleeping shifts. Not much we can do while we’re all waiting for information. I’ve put you on the list to sleep first.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need it.”
“Sam, you’ve been working for the last thirty-six hours.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve already sent a hundred of those broadcasts back to Earth. Only thing we can do now is wait and see if anyone gets back to us. Please don’t make me give an order.”
Right. He’s in charge now. XOs get the deck when the Commander’s away.
Sam steps away from the console. Her hands have been curled in the same position for so long they uncramp slowly, in increments, hesitant to break from a typing position. What’s the point, really. She’ll need to use them again soon enough.
She turns to face James, leaning heavily against the metal behind her for support as her knees unlock and turn to jelly all at once. He wraps strong hands around her shoulders but it doesn’t hold her up. Nothing but her console is doing that.
“Whoa there.”
The blood rushes to the rest of her limbs all at once. She tingles all over.
“EDI’s still out of commission. Unless we can figure out what’s wrong with her, we’ve lost our best chance of contacting the Alliance. I’m more useful here than I am asleep.”
“Adams, Ken, and Gabby have already slept and eaten. They’re working on EDI now, if there’s anything to be done they can do it. Sam, please. Sam?”
You’re still here? Specialist, you’re off duty.
Commander! Um, yes, Commander, I am, but the turians sent us the coordinates to another fuel depot and I wanted to… make sure we were in range to intercept.
EDI does have access to the Normandy’s data, you know. She’s probably already worked it out.
I have, Shepard. We are not en route but the Alliance has sent a collection vessel.
See?
Um…
…but you knew that already.
…Maybe?
You want to tell me what’s really going on, Specialist?
It’s just…Private Campbell has the bunk above me, and she sometimes snores, and everyone else is already so used to being on the ship but I can’t sleep with it yet. I’m certainly working on it, but until then I thought I’d….well, I thought I’d work.
We need you at your best, Specialist. That means awake and rested when you’re actually on duty. Next time we’re on the Citadel, get some earmuffs or something.
Yes, Commander. Sorry, Commander.
Until then, you can have mine.
It won’t happen aga- wait, what?
Hey, I was a crew member once. Didn’t always have a nice fancy cabin all to myself. My men were damn good soldiers but terrible bunkmates. Next time, remind me and I’ll grab them for you.
I can’t accept- I mean, they’re yours. Don’t you need them?
What for? It’s not like my fish snore or anything. Take them, it’s the least I can do. And if you need anything else, just ask.
T-thank you, Commander.
Hey, you’re not on duty, remember? Call me Jane.
A-alright, Jane. I’m Sam. Call me…Sam.
Sam. Got it.
Steve Cortez walks by, his arm plastered and bandaged and favoring his right leg, a hollow sort of look in his eyes. He looks at Sam, tries for a small smile that has none of the cheer she’s used to seeing, and salutes James before limping his way to the elevator. They both see his face fall when he thinks they’re not looking, before the doors close.
“Esteban’s on sleep duty too.”
“You’re not getting me to leave.”
The elevator whirrs once more and Sam actually sees James’s bulk tense in surprise, shifting ever so slightly so he’s blocking Sam from whoever’s emerging. When did that start happening?
“Lieutenant Vega.” Liara nods at them both, and tucks her hands behind her back. “Samantha, I’ve brought that hacking tool you wanted. It should be able to clean up some of the static in the comm lines.”
“Thank you, Liara. How’s Tali?”
Tali had been hit right in front of her, as they laid down covering fire for the Alliance troops. An entire wave of husks had charged at an exhausted Liara and Sam only had time to gape in horror, expecting to see the doctor torn to pieces by their grasping hands. Then a familiar drone zipped in front of the doctor, giving Liara time to vault back over a barricade. Then Sam heard the scream.
There’s another image Sam will never get out of her mind. Tali covered in blood, suit ruptured in a dozen places, wheezing breaths through a break in her helmet. The drone fizzling away into her omni-tool. Dr. Chakwas’s ashen face.
Sam’s amassing quite the collection.
You’re turning into a regular marine.
“She was breathing when I left, but still critical. Dr. Chakwas is tending to her now but she’s warned me not to be optimistic.” Tears form at the corners of Liara’s eyes. “Oh Goddess, if she hadn’t sent her drone after me I’d be dead. But-“
“Hey.” James touches Liara’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, any one of us would have done the same. So would you, if Tali were in that situation. She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
“She could die. She just got her homeworld back and to die light-years away, after all that effort, because I couldn’t keep my barriers up-“
“And you just got Thessia back. Sam and I just got Earth back. And we’re all going to go back to our homeworlds to make things right as soon as we can, including Tali. Thanks to Shepard.”
Sam doesn’t miss the way Vega’s guilty eyes flicker back towards her for a moment, upon mention of Jane’s name, but it doesn’t shake her. It can’t, not when it’s been the solitary thought in Sam’s mind since they’d hit Cronos Station. It all seems so long ago now.
“Yes.” Liara says, tilting her head a little ways back. Soft but growing steadier. “Yes, you’re right, Lieutenant. I’m going to go salvage what I can from my quarters. Oh, before I forget-“
Liara extracts her hacking tool from one of her numerous pockets, and hands it over. Sam takes it, grateful. Liara understands that she needs to work. Liara’s used to this. Liara’s seen Jane dead once already.
But Vega, damn him. He reaches forward and snatches it out of her hands.
“No. You’ll make yourself sick or drive yourself crazy or both. If there’s any news we’ll call. From this moment on I’m officially relieving you of duty.”
“Don’t you take this from me. Don’t you dare.” Sam spits, full of venom she didn’t know she was harboring. It’s so completely strange to take this out on James, James who in all rationality is correct and in charge and alive, that Liara actually takes a step back.
But now he won’t even look at her. He slides Liara’s device into his pocket, forcefully logs Sam off the comm channel, and briskly walks towards the elevator.
“James! Damnit, Vega, you bastard! Give that back!”
He doesn’t turn around.
The loss of the comm connection unhinges something. Sam bends over and presses sweaty hands on her knees, hoping fruitlessly for the sudden panic to cease, to leave her alone, go away. But a brute animal grief still wells up from a depth previously unknown to her, visceral and terrifying and endlessly empty, and the knowledge of what would have, could have, should have happened threatens with each passing second to overwhelm what control she still has over it. There’s no need for a comm because there’s no need for a message. There’s no need for a message because Jane is-
Keep it together. Just- keep it together, damnit.
Sam barely realizes that she’s brushing Liara away until it’s happening. She barely pauses when she tries to take her arm, and calls out her name with concern. She barely hesitates before stepping into the elevator.
Sam doesn’t go to the crew deck, or after wherever James has gone. When the elevator stops, her fingers hover for a moment, and then she is pressing a palm to the front of Jane’s door.
Jane?
Just wanted you to know, uh- I changed the access protocols for my cabin. EDI suggested it, and I figured since you spend so much time up there anyway, you should have free access to the place. Even when I’m not there. So, yeah. Come up whenever.
Moving in already and we haven’t even had a proper date? I’m flattered.
Sam, your toothbrush has taken up permanent residence in my bathroom cabinet. This is just proper procedure.
I’m “just proper procedure”, huh? Well then, don’t expect me to feed your fish or take your hamster on any more walks-
Fine, I’ll take my cabin door and my fish and my unwalked hamster and go somewhere where we’re all wanted–
Thank you. I mean it.
Are you sure?
I could kiss you again to make sure.
I think that’s acceptable.
Every one of Jane’s model ships is broken. Shards of glass and metal have punctured a few of them, skewered the delicate parts Jane had worked so hard to get just right. All those nights she spent on them, when Sam played second fiddle to a damn tube of glue because that’s what Jane needed.
Sam, I do not!
Darling, you collect ships like you collect people. See, there’s Liara’s Broker base and Tali’s liveship and the geth destroyer- ooh, Vega can be the Mako!
I always thought Vega might be the Citadel skycar. He’s destroyed enough of them.
Very funny. So which one am I?
You? You want a model ship?
Yes, as of this moment I actually do. Well…?
I’m thinking.
Think faster!
You know, I was considering getting your Cision Pro chrome-plated and put up there, right next to the Destiny Ascension. Years from now we can look back and say, remember how we saved the Normandy from my evil clone that one time? With that ridiculous toothbrush that cost as much as my N7 Eagle?
I am…shocked and horrified at what you’re implying right now. You’re comparing me to an instrument of oral hygiene, really?
You brought it up!
That doesn’t mean I want to be immortalized for breaking up plaque!
I’m sooo terribly sorry, Sam. Have I ruined your life?
A little. But don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to make up for it.
Well, Jane never did get her a new toothbrush, so Sam’s willing to call it even. They can break each other’s things saving the galaxy.
Sam lies down on the bed, curls herself up, and closes her eyes. She does not cry.
In the darkness, it’s impossible to say for certain if Jane is actually there or not. Schrodinger’s Shepard. If Sam concentrates, she can almost feel Jane’s arms holding her, belief suspended, her warm toes pressed against Sam’s blocks of ice. On the way to Earth, they’d lain under the dappled glimmer of the aquarium and waited for the familiar whir of the mass relay to tell them their time was up.
She must have fallen asleep. When the cabin intercom activates, Sam opens her eyes and for a stupid second, she waits for Jane to get up to answer it.
I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
“Traynor?”
It’s unfair to hate his voice for not being Jane’s. But Sam’s not a saint, so she goes ahead and hates it anyway, before pressing the intercom button.
“I’m here, Joker.”
“I still can’t get EDI to respond.” He sighs, and Sam notices the telltale cracks in his voice. Still, hope isn’t gone from him yet. “But some of the channels cleared up and we’ve received transmissions from a nearby volus colony. We were thrown into the Hades Gamma cluster, somewhere –Adams is trying to patch communications to the Alliance now with their help. I figured you’d want to be here.”
“I’m on my way.”
When she arrives, they are all huddled around her comm station. The mass of people parts as they all see Sam walk up, and she settles her hands in their usual position as they reconverge around her, a silent sea to her oblivious island.
They wait.
At some point, James walks up and puts a hand on her shoulder. She lets it stay.
Then suddenly-
“This is….zzzzz….Vakarian of Palaven Command. This communication is for the SSV Normandy or any ship that can get to them-“ The signal fades out and Sam grasps wildly for her screens, adjusting and calibrating to no avail. There’s nothing more she can do.
“zzzz…our drives are damaged…zzzz…”
“Garrus.” Dr. Chakwas whispers. Sam reaches out and finds her arm, and holds on tight. Tighter.
Garrus went to the beam with her. If he’s alive, then maybe…maybe-
Sam is sick with hope.
“Get back here as quick as you can! Shepard’s barely holding on, the Crucible….but she’s alive!…zzzz….Traynor-“
Sam lets go as the world spins around her.
The aquarium is smashed, the ships broken, the mass relays in ruins.
But Sam’s feet tingle with warmth.