Takes place in Mass Effect 3. I'm taking Canon Fem!Shepard i.e. redhead, light freckles, green eyes, with the name Jane. Spacer survivor. Part 1 of 3. Please enjoy!
It's that time of the year again and I still remember everything. In the midst of the lounge's silence, I can still hear the sound of crumbling. It's not just any kind of crumbling—more like the ground crumbling, like houses collapsing, like humans breaking. It rings in my ears like a siren as I drink some cheap vodka a Batarian vendor had the good graces not to poison.
Every year, I like drinking my ass off on this day. I do this anyway; I have a habit of waking up with a hangover in strange places. Yet I have an excuse this time around. My mother is supposed to give me an annual call today to check on my condition, but she's probably fretting over Earth's slow destruction like the rest of the human race. I should too, but I'm particularly too tired to do anything. I already decided to give myself a break, just this once.
About four shots in, I can feel a bit whoozy. I mentally embrace this feeling of intoxication as I stare at a wall. I begin to think about Toombs. He probably still hates me as much as he hates the Illusive man. I don't blame him. We weren't close friends, but the only thing mutual between us is that we survived. I still haven't gotten around explaining to him yet, or if I should ever. I can't help but to scratch my head at this: what's he doing in memory of today? Kicking that statue of me on Akuze?
I laugh for no reason and then rest my forehead on the table. It's cold. Then I feel something welling in my eyes, but I close my eyes shut to keep it from seeping out. There's a familiar pain in my chest that begins to spread like a virus, diffusing into my blood, coursing down my veins into every inch of my rebuilt body. Eventually I become numb of emotion, somehow spiritually unattached from my body, strangely unaware that I am still in the Normandy.
Then a heavy mixture of guilt, sadness, regret, anger, and frustration with alcohol oozes into my brain, meddling with my emotions, forcing me to cry. I draw in one last calm breath before throwing myself in a fit of soft choking and tears.
I'm Commander Jane Shepard. I saved the galaxy twice. I died twice too. Last time I died, I was revived by Cerberus. First time I died, I witnessed the death of my entire unit. And that Shepard is still dead.