Disclaimer: I do not own / hold the rights to Mass Effect. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
A/N: I'm quite proud of the way this one shot turned out (first time using 2nd person). Like a lot of my best writing the words for this just grabbed me, and I could barely keep up with writing it all down. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
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"You're Shepard." She says the word – the name like it should mean something to you, and before everything is said and done, it will: Everything you don't have. But right now, at the start of everything, it's just a word, just a name, and it doesn't feel like yours.
She leads you out of that place, guns blazing and killing anyone who crosses your path, even though she's wearing the exact same uniform as them. You've never seen anything like this – like her before. She rescues you single handedly, like some preordained saviour, and that horrible lab – the only place you've ever known – burns.
You're free. Except you're not.
She's been telling you about the state of the galaxy. Geth, Reapers, and how the stupid quarreling aliens are to blame for it all. You've taken to watching the news to understand it, but nothing you've learned prepares you for what you see that night. You see yourself being interviewed, but it's not you. It's not you at all.
You're not proud of how you react next, nor that you were loud enough to bring your saviour rushing into the room. You're pointing at the screen the moment she bursts in, shouting, "Who the hell is that!?"
She goes still, looking at the screen before turning her eyes on you, measuring. You've known her long enough to realize her silence means that she's calculating, tailoring her words specifically for your ears and that whatever comes out of her mouth next will be brutal, horrible and absolutely true. "She's you. You're not the only Shepard they decided to bring back from the dead."
"I died!" You blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. She smiles like you've just said the cutest thing. You straighten, glaring back to hide your embarrassment.
She rolls her eyes. "Of course not. Shepard died. Flash frozen and then barbequed. Dead as a doornail. She's gone." She lets that sink in, but you can see the sly smile creeping across her lips. "But the Illusive Man has never been good at letting things he wants go. Thus you, and her," she points to the Shepard on the screen, "were, shall we say, 'born'."
"We're clones?" You don't know what to think of that even as the words come out of your mouth.
"Yes." She doesn't even try to soften the blow, and before you can even get your head around it – process what this all means – she's talking once more. "But she got the better deal." You look at the vid screen again. "They think she's the genuine article."
And maybe that's where the resentment – the bitter, bitter whys and then finally your cold hard resolve – maybe that's where it all comes from. This one moment, where you see you – the saviour of the galaxy – a you who everyone is singing the praises of… and you realize… you have nothing. Not even a name.
Your plan is in motion, and you're getting ready to go. Your saviour is already dressed in a stolen Alliance uniform and as she adjusts the cuffs, she asks, "Ready to go, Shepard?"
She's never called you anything else. But it dawns on you, you don't know her name. So you ask, and that sly smile appears once more on her face. "It's Brooks," she informs you in a matter-of-fact tone.
You scowl. You helped her pick out the false alias this morning.
She smiles, patting your cheek. "And after today, you'll be Shepard."
It feels more like a slap. Because haven't you been you this whole time? Isn't that your name?
It'll be the end when you realize that name means more. You're dangling over the edge. You and… Shepard, it hurts to even acknowledge someone else with your name, are barely holding on. You should feel satisfied with this outcome, but you're not. You're both going to die, it should be level ground here, except it's not and you still can't understand why.
Then they come. Her team. Her friends… rushing across the cargo bay, reaching out, pulling… Shepard away from the edge, bringing her back to safety. You look desperately back into the cargo bay. But all your foot soldiers are dead, and your saviour…
She stands back where it's safe, watching. You're going to fall, and this time no one is coming to save you.
