Doubts and Heartaches: The Lazarus Well

"Wake up, Commander."

Someone called to her. A woman. She sounded far away and only vaguely familiar. But Shepard felt sluggish, her body ached. Like the time she was in one of the pressure chambers for increased grav training, her body heavy and hard to move. She tried to open her eyes and light blinded her. She squinted through the burning pain anyway. She could feel again. She couldn't remember when she stopped feeling and it felt good to feel again. She felt… alive.

"Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now. This facility's under attack."

The woman again. She sounded urgent. Something was wrong. Shepard could feel it in her blood. A laser canon slicing through the Normandy flashes in her mind. Joker's in the escape pod. She watches helplessly as the intense beam of light cuts through the ship, separating them from each other. Watching the beam ravage the bridge feels like someone's cutting off her arm, yet she can't seem to turn away. She's breathless at the destruction, the power.

Wires spark and fizzle out. Lights flicker and die. She can see the innards of the ship flying out into space. She's right next to an emergency escape pod release. Her mind jolts as she sees her pilot. She's got to save Joker. She looks across the hall and through the debris at him. Joker's looking at her, frantic. She can see in his eyes everything he can't say. Don't… You can make it, he pleads with her in those brief seconds. Don't do it, Shepard. Don't…

She doesn't have a choice. Shepard feels the electricity of the explosion before it happens, like static building around her. She knows it's coming as her body floats up, knows that she only has one chance to save him. He can't see it through the visor on her helmet. Can't see her eyes telling him, her lips barely mouthing the words…. I'm sorry.

Shepard feels her body lift around, she's already losing control. She pounds the release a mere nanosecond before the explosion knocks her body away. It tosses her like a rag doll, cracking her bones like twigs yet nothing actually hits her. It was like being pushed deep under water by a biotic field, the force and pressure breaking her from the inside out. She feels thrown one direction, then another. Gritting her teeth against the shattering pain, she tries to see if Joker's pod makes it out, but can't keep her eyes on any one thing, lights and darkness flying past her.

"Shepard. Your scars aren't healed, but I need you to get moving. This facility is under attack."

The room was bright around her. Lights flickered behind the glass panes on the other side of the bay and the sounds of gunfire and alarms drowned out her touched her face, feeling the sores on her jaw. She blinked back a halo of light and suddenly she saw it. A massive ship, more like a space station seemingly carved from an enormous asteroid. It fires again. She watches, powerless, as the Normandy vaporizes in a burst of explosions that blow her away like a child blowing dandelion seeds in the wind. Shepard shuts her eyes floating off in space. Hoping against hope that whatever had just destroyed the Normandy was satisfied and wouldn't go after the crew's escape pods.

She gasps at the pain in her chest, her worry for her squad taking over her instincts then realizes her armor is losing pressure when she finally catches the sound of hissing. Shepard arches back to try and find the emergency shut off valve to seal her armor and maybe give her more time. More time to save them… She's gasping for breath, losing oxygen and pressure at a rapid rate. Gripping her throat, she knows she's not going to make it. She gasps deeply, filling her lungs, but can't seem to breathe. She's freezing. It's… excruciating. I'm sorry, she thinks to her crew. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for not telling you, Kaidan…

Her body turns and she sees the edge a planet. Suddenly she's on fire. God, it hurts! Shepard opens her mouth to scream but nothing comes out. Tears that should have fallen uncontrollably don't come. She's screaming in silence, tears either frozen or vaporized before they can fall. Her body stiffens under the pressure that keeps building for what feels like hours. And then… it doesn't hurt anymore. There's no more pain, no more need to scream, to cry. She's not cold, not burning… nothing. She stares out in those last brief moments that seem to extend on forever in her mind. The horizon. It's…. beautiful.

"There's a pistol in a locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"

Pain radiated through her body, bringing her back to the room, back to the present. She felt odd, like she was moving parts that didn't belong to her as if she were some twisted marionette. Her arms moved when she wanted them to, her legs walked, but it was wrong somehow. Shepard caught herself with a hand on the steel medic bed to keep from falling. She wasn't sure whether she could trust herself to go forward, to walk.

"Grab the pistol and armor from the locker."

The voice drove her. The woman, she blinked, remembering something in a haze. Shepard recalled a man and a woman over her. She was lying down; they were talking… something about her not being ready yet, waking up, sedatives. Wilson… Miranda… doctors? Shepard shook her head. Did she… survive somehow?

"You don't have time to wait around, Shepard. Grab your weapon and armor!"

The woman called more urgently now, more insistent. Shepard clung to it, letting it fuel her muscles to act. She lurched forward to the locker and opened it. Armor, obviously hers, yet not hers. She pulled it out. She'd never worn it that she could remember, but she could tell it was made for her: the N7 insignia, each curve matching her own. Shepard slipped each piece on easily, like a second skin. She immediately grabbed the pistol and tried to reload.

"This pistol doesn't have a thermal clip," Shepard stated out loud before she realized she voiced the thought. She sounded strong despite her throat feeling raw. Good. Gripping the pistol tightly, she felt a little more like herself.

"It's a med bay. We'll get you a clip from… damn it! Those canisters by the door are going to blow! Get behind cover, now!"

Shepard's instincts forced her to duck down behind the counters. The room seemed to vibrate in anticipation and she felt her heart skip a beat. She breathed in deeply through her nose, settling her nerves until her heart pumped steady and strong. Releasing her fear, she focused on the moment. Point A to point B, she told herself.

"Keep your head down, Shepard! Shield yourself from the blast!"

The door burst open in a heated blast and adrenaline pulsed through her veins. Shepard stumbled forward at first, her eyes still blurry, halos of light shimmering in her peripheral vision. Everything was hard and bright. Her legs felt strange, like when she first steps off a treadmill onto real ground. Nothing felt real, tangible, except the pistol in her hand. She gripped it tightly, using it as a lifeline to this hell. A lifeline to survival.

"Someone's hacking security trying to kill you. Look for a thermal clip for your pistol!"

Shepard scanned around the ground and crates and spotted a body on the floor. Unsurprisingly, she didn't recognize him or anything else in this place. It was a waking nightmare, but one she was sure had to be real. The pain coursing through her body, the aches, they told her she was real. They told her she was alive, awake. She grimly snatched a couple extra thermal clips from the dead man's belt and loaded her weapon, keeping a keen eye ahead for approaching targets.

"Looks like they set up a barricade to try holding the mechs off."

She heard a mech as it patrolled the other room and Shepard ducked down low behind a small barricade. Her blood raced. She breathed in. Suddenly everything was clear. Her ears caught the clank clank of mech steps behind the blaring of an alarm, the echoes bouncing in the room giving her its general position.

"Look out!"

The woman's voice faded into the background. Shepard felt her training kick in. She wanted this, needed this. Immediately she leapt over the barricade and rolled to the next cover. Her back strong, her legs balanced. Shepard clenched the pistol, feeling the tight resistance of the trigger with her finger, the thickness of the handle solid in her hands. She gracefully shifted out of cover and took the mech out quickly, efficiently. Pop, pop!

Its red face fizzled then blanked out and Shepard drew in a steady breath. This was what she was made for. She was going to find out what the hell was going on here and rescue her crew. Shepard clenched her fist. It still felt alien, like a new soldier under someone else's command. But it worked. And somewhere deep in her mind, she knew time would restore whatever it was she had lost. But right now, she had a mission. Shepard popped the heat sink and reloaded her gun. This was her dance.