.

Jakir

.

Aside from that little scene at their meeting, the child was as unresponsive as a dead varren. From shock, most likely. No pup would be able to take having both parents dead and having no one else to rely on. She hasn't cried nor eaten, just either sleeping or listlessly staring off into space.

It was.. concerning. No amount of talking would get her to respond and Jakir found himself reaching out to offer physical contact with the pup just because it felt as she was going to break any moment soon and it would be Jakir's fault. Pride, he tells himself, waste of fuel to come all the way for nothing. Jakir knew that look in someone's eyes. He sees it every time he looks at the mirror.

To see it on such a young face (humans are fragile. No hard skin, no extra eyes nor limbs. Young ones awfully more.) was unnerving and had him wanting to stay as far as possible from the pup; it wasn't something he is capable of dealing with, probably not without damaging her mind elsewhere.

This shouldn't even be his business. Jakir's only responsibility was her physical safety. To retrieve the pup and Shepard and get them to another one of her contact from the Alliance (without revealing himself of course) but that plan immediately went to shit as soon as he found out that the mother is nothing but a meat bag now.

He checked just to be sure, carrying the unconscious pup (she was pretty light, not to mention disgustingly squishy), and there a few moments of walking the ex-Alliance lay, surrounded by equally (if not more) dead bodies of his kind. She went down fighting at least, something her daughter almost emulated.

Jakir knew where his mistakes lay; he should have just come for them.

(A whisper of maybes came and went)

Now he has a probably brain dead pup (he hopes otherwise) and a storage drive that contained all her biological information and papers. That has, unfortunately, no relatives were listed.

Which narrows him to two choices; ending the pup's misery or find information about Shepard's known associates and leaving her with them.

Frankly, it was the former choice that Jakir was increasingly tempted to do, but would never. That was something only a low-life would do; to disgrace a life debt.

A small sob took Jakir's attention to the pup. There she lay on a small cot, looking disgustingly vulnerable while no doubt looking very uncomfortable, her blankets all bunched up on one side. He grimaced, before startling; he was already reaching out to fix her blankets without him realizing it.

It took another whimper form the pup before he made up his mind and spread the blankets evenly on her, tucking it comfortably, and another beat before he met her outstretched hand (Something he'll never openly admit to doing. He wasn't going soft on some squishy bug now.)

He tells himself it's not personal. It's just business and paying off a debt, but the thought trails off when he notices something;The hand was hot to the touch. A temperature too high even for his kind.

.

Jane

.

It was hot and cold

In my veins I feel it; a chill coursing and spreading very slowly, making me hyper aware of it's every movement inside me. I felt hot on the outside at the same time, each cell felt erratic and wild, like my body was trying to fight the coldness from spreading.

I hate it.

I didn't know how long I was stuck like that, of seeing both of my lives playing out whenever I close my eyes, of lost and pain and suffering, but somehow I found myself a bit out of that loop. Just enough to think.

Is this how I die?

I couldn't stomach that thought.

I didn't want to. I want to live.

I want to have a better life this time.

Repeating that thought like a lifeline, I did my best to remember a memory with her.

"Jane I'm so proud! You called me Mama!" I can practically feel happiness radiating from her. It was almost mind scrambling for me to speak coherent words, the chip wired in me conflicting most languages I know (Modern human language has been mixed so much.), but still I can claim myself pretty darn proud that I actually didn't speak words that would have been considered meaningless babbles.

She handed me my atrocious neon-colored stuffed doll (which I had lovingly named Leon), a chameleon that has by some miracle, survived my brutal chewing and other constant abuse such as throwing it to the nearest wall out of boredom.

It always, always ends up right beside me whenever I wake up.

"Now say Mommy!"

Hell no.

Hannah… wouldn't want me like this. For her to die for nothing while I succumb to whatever this is.

She would want me to stay alive and continue to cherish it.

(Was it bad to wish to be inside that house again? Trapped and yearning, but safe and happy. Warm most of all.)

I wanna live.

"-y pup."

I looked up at the alien, and for the first time I felt as if I was actually seeing him (assumed a guy due to the voice until proven otherwise), remembering that he was the one who took care of me while I was in my self-deprecating limbo.

The thing is, that a bit more sobered up, I realized just how different the stranger was from me. He is most definitely and undoubtedly so foreign and real that I couldn't believe my own eyes.

It also occurred to me, rather belatedly, that it is also the first time I've met anyone else that wasn't from Earth. (How could I? Trapped and sheltered inside Hannah's home as I was.) He had a teal colored skin, pointy ears, and two pairs of eyes that brings up the most important question.

Admittedly, the next move I'll isn't one of my best actions. You know, coming out of my funk while still having a massive headache, speaking to him for the first time and all but I can't simply help but wonder;

"Which… um-" I winced at my rough and scratchy voice.

"Which.. pair of eyes do I meet?"

Silence.

.

End of Chapter

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AN: There we go. About 900 -something words! I know, I couldn't believe it either. I wasn't sure if both POVs fit in the same chapter but left alone they're too short so there