Chapter Text
Dying the first time was terrifying.
Emptiness. Silence. You can’t hear anything in space. Not the sound of your past exploding, not the screams stuck in your throat, not your heartbeat. Space is an abyss, a black hole, sucking all life deep into its folds.
I always joked I’d die in a firefight; alongside some of the people I trusted most. Death in a hospital bed didn’t suit me and anything else was too mundane, too happenstance. Forget heart attacks, forget ship crashes, forget falling pianos. I’d die doing what I was always meant to do.
Suffocating in space hadn’t really made it to the list of possibilities.
It’s like drowning but worse because you can’t see the water rising up around you. There’s no indication that you should feel the pain you’re feeling, only blank, clear space pressing down on you and filling you from the inside out like glue. Sticky, anonymous pain.
And Jesus it’s painful. Ripping, tearing, burning. Your insides swell, burst, flood you. Eventually, perhaps luckily, your body gives in, gives up. There’s no clawing for life, no final breath. You can’t catch a breath to begin with.
It’s just over and you pray the pain stops. And it does, everything stops, and you drift away into nothingness, insignificant. No pearly gates to greet me, no grandparents to hold my hands. Just blackness. Stagnant waiting. Peace.
But I was given another chance, one few others get. My body was rebuilt, pulled back from the edge of the abyss and saved. Perhaps I still had more I needed to do.
It was the second time, the second wave of death that came easier. My own terms. I was ready this time, I had to be. The fate of the galaxy rested on my shoulders. This time, I’d die for a reason. I prepared myself for death and when it came, all bright lights and noise like they always said it would, I fell in without a second thought. This was it. The final sacrifice of Commander Shepard, the first human spectre.
At least, that’s what I thought.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
“Keep the pressure on.”
“Sir, please back up, we need space to work.”
“We need an emergency EVAC. We…we found Commander Shepard, sir.”
Lights. Too many goddamn lights. They seemed to shine in every direction, taunting me, preventing me from fully opening my eyes. But at least, with my eyes closed, it was quiet. I took the chance, tried to open them, fluttered my eyelids slightly.
The light burned, sent me crushing back, and with it came the sounds. Machines beeping, my heartbeat rocking hard in my head, prayers muttered between lips. And with the sounds, came the pain. Inching up from my toes to my head, every part of me ached and burned. Certain places stuck out from the rest: my left shoulder, my right thigh, my ribs felt like they were shattered completely, turned to sand, gritting against my organs.
I made a noise, something unfamiliar and guttural, and something or someone moved beside me, crowding over me.
“Shepard?” The voice was altogether foreign but it was tinged with enough fear and relief that I figured I knew him from somewhere
There was nothing I could do to answer though, my mouth clamped shut from the pain. He must have gotten a nurse or a doctor because the poking and prodding and button pushing began. Pain medication flooded into my system, numbing me from the inside out and finally, after many failed attempts, I managed to open my eyes.
“She’s awake!” The unfamiliar voice choked, peering over the shoulders of the doctors on my left
“It’s too soon.” One of the doctors mumbled
The other nodded, punching more buttons on a machine I didn’t recognize. I glanced down at my body, mostly covered by a blanket. My arms were wrapped tightly in bandages and my chest was completely wrapped in something that appeared harder than a bandage, perhaps keeping my insides, inside.
I could see my toes at the end of the bed, sticking up under the sheets. My heartbeat hurt. Thinking hurt.
One raspy breath, enough to take in a hard dose of medicine, and I was back to swimming in my own mind, my eyes fluttering shut.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Methodical beeping, over and over, grating against my skull. It never stopped, always there, always constant, masking every other noise. With concerted effort I peeled my eyelids open, shutting them back at the too bright light. Slowly, so slowly, just open your eyes.
I peeled them apart again, fluttering, closed, open, trying again. Finally, the room emerged in front of me: stainless steel and white and clean. Clinical. Hospital.
Where the fuck am I?
“Let me through.”
“Sir, this is for your own…”
“I want to see her, she’s my…”
“She won’t remember anything.”
“Shepard?”
The man at the doorway, fighting with a lab coat, breaks through to the bedside. My name is vaguely familiar. I take that as a good sign.
“Shep-…it’s me, Kaidan.”
Kaidan.
Nothing.
No flutter of recognition, no onslaught of memory. He slowly nods, sinking down into the chair beside the bed. Based on his practiced movements, he’s sat there before. I feel a twinge of guilt at his expression, like I’ve let him down somehow, like I’ve disappointed both of us.
“I…” I try and my voice cracks and I flinch, biting down, unpracticed movements
What had happened? The immediate discovery of my body, battered and bruised, took precedence. The blankets cover most of me…not reassuring.
I turned back to Kaidan momentarily, at the bags under his eyes and the few grey hairs protruding near his temples. Instinctually, he’s a friend, I trust him. He must be. Why else would he spend so much time and energy here?
“Will she ever remember anything?” He’s addressing the doctor behind him though his eyes, dark and shining, never leave my face
“It’s hard to say.” An older woman answers, putting a hand on his shoulder, “She needs to figure it out on her own, Kaidan.”
“I just want…”
“I know.” The older woman nods and squeezes his shoulder, “But would you believe the story if you only heard it?”
“No.” He conceded, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “Thank you, Dr. Chakwas.”
She patted his shoulder, retreating from the room with a backwards glance at me, smiling very slightly. I put her in the friend column as well.
“I…look Shepard, I know you don’t remember…I…” He trailed off, staring down at his hands, “I’m just glad you’re all right. Jesus I’m glad. And…and I care about you. And maybe…that’s enough for now.”
I slowly nodded, mutely, dumbly and he nodded back, sighing. That same twinge of guilt strikes like a mallet, right against my sternum.
“I’ll come back to check on you later.”
He escaped after that, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked through the doorway. The room was silent, except for the beeping machines, falling in a sort of harmony around me. It gave me time to think, time to figure out my body: just as much a mystery as anything else.
I could move my arms, despite the bandages that wound their way up from wrist to shoulder on the right side. The left was free, with large patches of bruised skin. All the skin on my knuckles was gone, scabbed over, and throbbing painfully when I bent my fingers into a fist. I was missing two fingernails on the left hand and three on the right hand.
I managed to wiggle the blanket down to my waist with some effort and peered down at my chest. It was wrapped in some sort of tough bandage, like a cage that prevented movement. My feet stuck out from the bottom of the blanket, in socks, but they moved and the idea of being paralyzed dissipated quickly.
“Mirror.” I croaked at a nurse who came in a few minutes later to check the many machines all around me
She seemed conflicted, as though someone might have told her this would happen and that she shouldn’t give in. But she didn’t say anything and merely fumbled in a drawer next to the bed, producing a small hand mirror for me before she darted from the room.
It took a few minutes to build up the courage before I flipped the mirror, staring back at dark blue eyes. Both were blackened and bruised, all the way down my cheeks. The left side of my jaw was riddled with tiny white bandages, presumably holding together a deep gash. Another cut on my neck looked like a burn, the edges of the skin charred and misshapen.
My lip was busted open in two places but I appeared to have all my teeth upon closer inspection, minus one in the very back you couldn’t see. A bandage across the bridge of my nose suggested it was broken and part of my hair was shaved away to put monitoring devices against the skin.
I remembered my eyes, I decided, staring down at my reflection again, and the distinct set of freckles on my right cheek. I had dark brown hair, long and wavy, and full lips and pale skin. But I could have been purple and been unsurprised, unable to grasp a full picture of myself from before whatever accident had taken place.
It brought me back. What the hell had happened? I wracked my brain for anything, a tiny detail, a sound, any sort of hint…but nothing came. Just the same emptiness that had settled into the far reaches of my brain. For all I knew, I’d been in this hospital room my entire life.
I glanced to my right and saw a medicine dispenser button, hanging from one of the machines. I grabbed it, hitting the tiny red button on top. Pain medication dropped silently into the IV that connected at the crook of my arm and I slowly drifted back to sleep.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
“Shepard?”
It was the older doctor again, holding an enormous box in her arms and looking down patiently at me. I blinked slowly, licking dry lips, before meeting her gaze.
“Ah, good, you’re awake.” She set the box on a chair beside the bed, “This was left for you.”
She scooted the chair closer and I peered into the box, surprised to see a mismatched assortment of items. Datapads, photographs, ribbons, a shirt.
“What is all this?”
“Your past.” The doctor replied with a shrug, “I think you have friends hoping this will help jog your memory.”
“Oh.”
My voice fell flat but the doctor pretended not to notice, quickly checking vitals before leaving the room. It took full minutes for me to pull the box closer, inspecting it cautiously. The first datapad had a note attached: Shepard, M. Background info. Classified.
“Might as well start at the beginning.” I mused, ripping the note off
It flickered to life with a touch and a file popped to the screen. My face was in the corner, stern, and a generic number sat at the bottom where a name would go. Along the right side were stats…I was right handed and nearly 5’9”. The most important box, situated in the middle, was a short blurb about my history.
I’d grown up on earth, right in the middle of New York City. I’d had several run ins with the law, bouncing from foster family to foster family. I enlisted with the alliance when I turned 18…presumably to get away from all the bad stuff on earth. And then there was Elysium.
Elisium.
The name stirs something in the back of my throat, like a need to cough or sneeze. I trace my finger over the name, over and over, and then scoll down. An attack by Batarian slavers…why does that seem familiar of all things? I glanced back at the box beside the bed and saw it, the small medal, a silver crest with blue outlining.
“For bravery and compassion.” They’d said, “Impossible odds.”
I’d save them all, lost no one. The medal felt heavy in my hand, familiar and yet strange. I traced my thumb over it, pressing it tightly to my palm. I could feel the heat from the bunker, could see the soldiers on my left and right, all looking to me. Commander Shepard. Commander of the Alliance forces.
It was seeping back through a crack in my mind. I wanted a deluge. What I got was a dripping faucet. After Elysium, my mind went blank again.
I tossed the datapad and medal, grabbing the next with a jerk. “Notes on Eden Prime.” A diary entry? It was something I had spoken and I poured over it, again and again.
2183 CE
We lost Coporal Jenkins. A stupid mistake, one that should have never happened. We honoured him with a medal of bravery…but we all know how well medals help a crying mother sleep at night. Eden Prime will never be the same again. I don’t think I will either. Something happened…a beacon…it…it connected with me. I don’t know. It’s like I have memories that aren’t my own, floating in my head. I don’t understand any of it but Dr. Chakwas says my scans look normal and that I don’t have anything to worry about. Wish she would tell Kaidan that.
“Speak of the devil.” I muttered as Dr. Chakwas walked in, busying herself across the room
“Hmm?”
“You were there. Eden Prime. You were my doctor.”
“I was the ship doctor.” She corrected with a shrug, “And yes, I’ve known you for a very long time, Shepard.”
“Then tell me what’s going on. How did I get here? What happened to me?”
“I…can’t do that, Shepard. I know that must be frustrating to hear but you have to understand. The only way for you to access those memories is to experience them yourself. If I told you everything that had happened since Eden Prime…well, you probably wouldn’t even believe me.”
I sighed, shoving the datapad back into the box with a huff. She took a moment and then sat down on the edge of the gurney, patting my leg lightly.
“I have the utmost faith that you will remember everything again. You just need time.”
She stood to leave and I suddenly felt the questions bubbling up inside me. What if I didn’t remember? What if I had to live this shell of a life, starting all over? I bit my lip, waiting for her to get to the door before I opened my mouth again.
“Dr. Chakwas…just one question.” She turned, “This…whatever did this to me…did we win?”
She cracked a grin, running a hand through her hair and staring off into space for a moment. Finally, she turned back.
“Oh yes, Commander Shepard.” She nodded, “And one day the universe will thank you for it.”