Commander Jane Shepard, Hero of the Citadel, first human Spectre, and all around badass, couldn't sleep. She laid down around 3 hours ago after a long mission that involved recruiting a assassin drell named Thane. And though he will be a very useful partner in future missions, finding him was indeed tiring.
After 3 hours of tossing and turning, and not getting even close to sleep, Shepard let out a sigh and gave up. She flung the sheet away from her body and swung her feet around until they touch the floor.
She buried her face in her hands and let out another long sigh. She was tired, oh so very tired. But ever since she woke up in the Cerberus lab sleep has eluded her. Now don't get her wrong, thanks to Shepard's new body she didn't need much sleep as she did. Hell, thanks to her body she could run faster, was stronger, and could last longer in basically everything.
Once again she let out another sigh and stood up. Though faint, she could feel the hum of the Normandy through her feet. It was a almost exactly the same hum from SR-1.
She walked over to her desk where numerous datapads were splayed around. Datapads for mission, dossiers, help signals and more. All calling for her attention. She sat down in her chair, she needed to get back to work. She reach for a random datapad but froze when something caught her eye. Her helmet. Not the one she wore on mission. But the old one. The one she was wearing when the SR-1 was destroyed and she died.
She could remember that day so well. If she would tell anyone that story they would most likely tell her that she remembered it too well.
Her mind went blank as memories raced through her head. Memories of what happened that day. She remember rushing to get Joker, her wise ass pilot. And then having to almost bridal style carry him to the escape pod. The sense of relief when he was safe inside. But then the pain came. The explosion that knocked her away, preventing her from getting into the escape pod. After more explosion she was knocked into space. A brief sense of relief because she wasn't dead. A brief sense of hope that maybe she was going to live.
But then she felt it. Her oxygen tank was punctured. Terror ran through her as she tried to cover up the puncture. When she couldn't anger then replaced the terror. Anger about how dare she die to early. Anger that whoever did this. Next was sadness. Sadness of never seeing her comrades and friends again.
But then the finale feeling took over. Relief. Relief that she was going to have peace. No one to look up at her, to depend on her, to expect the best from her. Relief that finally, finally, she didn't have to keep moving. To keep fighting for her life and others. And then blackness took over and she felt nothing more.
Until she woke up in the Cerberus lab. And once again feelings flooded her. Confusion, suspicion, and then brief feeling of sadness. Sadness because she will once again have to go back to being alive. Go back to people looking at her, watching, judging, whispering about her, and depending on her. But just as fast as that feeling came it went. And she went back into action, because she was alive again. And until she died again, she will never rest. Not as a sad fact, but just as a fact.
She napped out of her memories and looked around. Shaking off the memories and once again reach for the datapad, getting back to work.
Because she was Commander Shepard, and there will always be work for her to do.