Another Time, Another Life

Chapter One

AN: Well here's another one.

This story has a switching POV and I hope it's easy enough to follow along with.

This story has no editor, so all mistakes are, sadly, mine.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect/Bioware or any of its characters, I'm just writing my story in their world.

No one had told him saving the galaxy would hurt so damn much. Of course the weight on his shoulders was heavy but it felt as if a crumbled space station had fallen and settled directly on his chest, restricting his movements, and making his breaths shallow, never quite getting enough to feel comforted. He also was never told that it would be so dark, but there did seem to be a small ray of light as the weight on his chest shifted uncomfortably. It did in fact seem there indeed was a light at the end. Perhaps he had died, but he had saved them, saved everyone, everything living in the galaxy. He had succeeded, and the light grew brighter as his sight grew dimer and he wondered just what was making the light turn red as his vision surrendered to the darkness and his mind played tricks on him, hearing voices that should be in a far away place.

When his eyes opened again he only saw a bright light above him, causing him to shut his eyes again, or so he thought, he might have never opened them to begin with, it was hard to tell. His body hurt, possibly even more than when he was in the darkness. His limbs felt heavy, and a noise kept going off every second, that his brain could not seem to fully comprehend. Then just as quickly as the world came to him, it went away and into the darkness he returned. For a time, the cycle repeated, and with each bout of consciousness he gained a little more insight, his body slowly stopped hurting and instead ached and that the noise he heard was something beeping, and it seemed to beep to the tune of the pounding in his skull every time he regained his awareness. Again and again the cycle repeated, until he wanted to scream at the monotony, to just make it stop, yet he could never find his voice, even when his throat was wet with liquid, words would not come, it was as if he was stuck in a special type of Hell, to forever be on the verge of being aware yet always denied the fullness of life.

"...John..."

He heard the name before, or so his hazed brain told him so. It was repeated often when he would gain his semi awareness, but he did not know what the name meant, not anymore. His mind was fuzzy, hazy, addled with drugs perhaps, he could recall some things as if they just happened but others slipped through his mind's grasp like water between his fingers. It was infuriating in ways he could not comprehend. It was a Hell he wished to be saved from, and he tried to scream for help, something he had never done, and the worlds never seemed to come, instead they stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him, and he never did know he even made sounds of help as he wanted. Something warm traveled down his face, from his eyes, he could not recall what they were, but with them carving their slow path down his cheeks, sadness seemed to drift away even if only for one moment. Darkness greeted him once again like an old friend, with a cold embrace and a warm dagger in the back. His breathing was painful the next time he gained awareness, and it caused a swell of panic to rise in his throat, and a sound escaped from him.

When he was in the darkness now he remembered things, a journey. Perhaps his journey, of machines and organics fighting against one another. Of a young man dying in his prime, too excited, too eager, and then too dead. Flashes of a young woman in armor, alone, scared, angry, of a colony of dead people at the hands of machines and a Turian, who exuded confidence with a sinister sneer. He dreamed of a beacon and of pain.

A jewel of white and wide arms, home to seemingly all races of the galaxy. He had a feeling of nostalgia for it even though he did not know what it was, but it shined bright, casting dark shadows into its own corners. Politics, or maybe something darker as their pleas were denied. Yet he would not be swayed as they were denied, a fire burned in him for Justice to be brought, and he gathered it walking along the corridors of the Capital of Civilization. A Turian, A Krogan, A Quarian, all came along under his leadership, and they forced the Council to listen to his evidence. They made him one of their arms, he was said to be one of the best of Humanity and they deemed it true. He was a Spectre.

He was given his mission and even some leads to follow, and he found himself looking for an archaeologist. She was trapped, and he almost laughed, almost, but the machines took his focus before he could. They, himself, the Krogan, and the Turian that is, saved her from her accidental capture, and they fought their way out, barely making it to his ship before the facility collapsed.

Then they, his crew perhaps, journeyed to a human colony, where they acted strange and the machines waged war. The vehicle they drove was unwieldy but strong, taking on the machines easily. There were people who needed help, and he did help them, before he took on the larger mission, the machines. While fighting them he learned of a treachery committed by those that were helping the colony, and of a creature that controlled minds. They were able to save the colonists, and the creature, large, organic, and more plant than anything else. An Asari was saved from the creature, and she told us of another plan, and the asari of his crew was shocked to learn of her mother being involved.

They had triumphed and they continued on their trek across space, taking on missions as they were issued and helping one another. Talks were remembered fondly, if not in great detail.

Then they were somewhere cold, and the Asari and Krogan of his team accompanied him. He was pulled left and right into politics, but he did what he saw as right, offering help and peace with his authority and presence. Then they were in a labyrinth of corridors away from the cold but with long dead creatures attacking. The Krogan had a lot to say of them. Then they were confronting the mother of the Asari, and she revealed she had lost control of herself, and he remembers her death and the noise that came unbidden from his female team mate. He let the creature go, the Korgan disagreed but obeyed his order, and they purged the remaining that attacked as they fled.

He dreamed of memories of bonding with the crew of humans and aliens. Dreaming of times he helped them and they in turn helped him. They were focused on what they had to do, and were willing to follow him to Hell itself, he dreamed of it feeling good.

He remembered perhaps, being drawn to the asari archaeologist, and she in turn was drawn to him, he comforted her after her mothers death. They grew closer but the time was not right, they knew it and accepted it but feelings grew in the heart regardless of what the mind knew.

He dreamed of a beautiful coast but a deadly enemy gathered there. Of a tense standoff with his Korgan friend, who stood down when he recalled their bond. Of relief when he did not have to kill his friend. Of Salarians and Holding the Line.

He dreamed of a Turian who thought he was a savior, but instead was a slave. Of a bigger threat than anyone had realized, a threat of Big Machines. Of leaving a good man, a friend, behind, to save another. The Asari of his team gave him comfort when he needed it as he did for her.

The guilt of the dream crushed his chest in the same way it felt when he first gained awareness again.

He dreamed of learning of ancient people, and a place they called their own, of a dead planet being scoured by the machines. Of talking to an ancient program and the seemingly last bit of knowledge it contained was passed to him.

The machines and the Big Machine attacked the jewel and hope of the galaxy, they did not heed his warnings and now it seemed they would pay a high price.

He dreamed of trying desperately to save the slave of the Big Machines. Of a gunshot fired before he could stop it, the Turian Slave a slave no longer but a free man, a dead man, but free and his last choice was of his own will. That did not stop the Big Machine from perverting his sacrifice, and they fought the beast the free man had been turned too. He saved the people who had not believed him, sacrificing many of his people's lives, but stability was needed, and the Big Machine died with a roar.

He dreamed of knowing it would not be the end.

The darkness was not so foreboding now that his dreams happened but rather they were comforting in a way, much different than the bright awareness he sometimes got to have.

"John...Wake…"

The sounds still did not seem to be enough to stir his body and mind. He drifted again, hoping for more pleasant dreams or rememberings.

He dreamed of dying, of his crew desperate in trying to get him to leave, yet he stayed so they could be saved. He dreamed of never placing a lot of value on himself, of guilt driving him to not fall until he had saved them all. Then he dreamed of somewhere filled with light, and of peace, but he was ripped away from there, but he knew he had to go, and was told it was okay to leave the peaceful place for he would be welcome again when he rested for his final time. He dreamed of believing the ancient and powerful voice.

He awoke to a voice of a woman, attractive sounding, a hell of wake up call as he was attacked by machines, but not the same that he had fought before, no these were not as smart, more basic. The voice directed him until they were cut off from one another, and a small feeling of panic and fear entered his stomach, but his body moved and ended threats to him before they could end him. He found logs and safes and his body moved quickly, reading, and hacking as video logs played. 2 years...2 seemingly long years. He encountered a young man with biotics and a suit with an emblem that stirred his memories but his mind was still too addled to place it. They teamed up and went to save someone else, a doctor in charge of his resurrection. He dreamed of the mechs attacking and his pistol smoking as they moved through the fiery corridors. Then the voice that awoke him shot the doctor they saved. They had been betrayed, and Cerberus tasted wrong on his tongue.

He dreamed of talking to an illusive figure cloaked by the brightness of a swirling star and the darkness of a barely lit room, with eyes of an impossible blue. A new threat was in progress, one abducting humans without warning, cause, or reason. He needed proof before he worked with a devil and he dreamed of a pit in his stomach telling him he would get it.

The cerberus man and woman accompanied him, accepting his commands, but they asked questions and he answered them, names coming through his dreams self mouth, but he could not make them out, like someone threw dirt into a pond. It frustrated him that his mind would not remember clearly.

But still he could know faces, and a familiar face, or rather a mask greeted him on his mission of proof. The Quarian from when he fought the Big Machine and his slaves. She was happy to see him, and reminded of when he helped her on her own personal mission, yet he felt the phantom pain of not being trusted because of the organization he wasn't even truly working for. Still his dream self helped them, trying to save her men, and failing that he only took the data and not the quarian, letting him be returned to his home in the stars with his old friend.

Then he was given another familiar face with his old pilot, another friend, who was following him into Hell again. It felt good.

He visited the jewel of the galaxy once more, his armor heavy on his shoulders as he moved through the corridors, and appeared before the Council he had saved. They did not believe him, again it caused sadness to settle in his stomach, but yet they reinstated him as one of their arms, and he was given clues and information by another old friend, his old captain turned Councilor. While there he found a thief and recruited her with the promise of helping her settle an old score, it would not be the first time he had helped a crew member and he somehow knew she wouldn;t be the last.

Next he dreamed of an asteroid where many made it home, it was dark and seedy, yet there beat an undying heart of people trying to make it on their own. It's Queen, a ruthless woman, but perhaps a sentimental one, she drew a hard line in the sand, and his dream self could respect that. She respected him though she didn't say it, but it was there. She gave him information, and he used it to gain more strength for his mission.

The doctor, a Salrian was first, his clinic in the bad parts of town was hard to get too, with a plague and mercenaries running rampant. Yet his guns smoked as he fired shot after shot, with each shot a sense of Justice and rightness enveloped him, as did a sense of aloneness as he fought alongside strangers, not the people he knew before, the people he trusted. With a cure dispersed and an assistant saved, they had gained the help of a genius salarian and with it access to a lab and someone who could use it.

He dreamed of when they infiltrated the gangs going after a Turian who brought his own version of justice to those who sought to rule the lower class of the asteroid. The surprise he felt when the Turian removed his helmet and a familiar face greeted him. The face of his friend, they clasped hands and a good feeling filled his chest at the memory of fighting by his friend's side once again. His friend took a rocket to the face, and a rage settled in his chest as the scope of his rifle was filled with the yellow of the armoured glass of the flying ship. They successfully beat the mercs and recruited his friend, and the feeling of loneliness lifted, yet it still weighed heavily in his gut.

Before leaving the asteroid he had given information to its Queen, and she repaid the favor with stories of her mysterious rise to power. Before they left he recruited a grizzled mercenary with a vendetta of anger and revenge, and he could understand having a score to settle.

His dreams moved quicker as if it was a slideshow more than a movie, of him recruiting The Convict and The Tank Born, and of him seeing a familiar face of the young woman soldier as he tried desperately to save the human colony, a feeling of deju vu in his stomach. The friend cursed him, and the feeling of weight in his stomach grew heavier. But he would not let it show, he was a leader, a Commander, and would rise above all to complete the mission at all costs. Just as he had when the pirates attacked and he held them off with everything he had. The alien abductors, Collectors his mind recalls, where now his enemy and he would not fall to them again.

A familiar blue face greeted him again as he landed on an Asari dominated world. He tried to get her to join him again, old feelings stirring in his chest, but she made it clear that a lot had changed in the time he was gone, and the flame in his chest dimmed to a coal. He understood and was not hurt, mortals moved on it was part of life, even more so for Asari. He helped her find a traitor and they parted ways with him learning of two more possible recruits. The Justicar and The Assassin.

The Justicar was the first he tracked down, and when he saw her for the first time she was delivering Justice in a cold way. Yet she offered to join him if he helped her find someone she had spent hundreds of years tracking. Something inside him compelled him forward, and he agreed, respecting and perhaps awed by the power she exuded with absolute confidence. They found the ship's name and the Justicar swore an oath to him, more powerful than even the code she lived by, an powerful and rare honor. She joined the crew and he found himself talking to her more than the others, it was subconscious he could now tell, enjoying her presence as they grew closer as crew and even friends. He found the weight in himself lifting when he talked with her, even if only for a short while. He dreamed of it being a nice feeling.

He recruited a remorseful assassin who moved with efficiency that he thought none could match, a body trained for killing. A dying assassin who seemed to want to do good in a world he had removed a lot of evil form.

He recruited his old Quarian friend, the sun shining on the world burning through their shields as they fought the small machines, The Geth, to save her. They succeeded and saved a male Quarian marine, a tough man who knew his duty.

They learned of a defeated collector ship and moved on it. They learned they were originally Protheans, and with it a connection to the Big Machines, Reapers. It was a trap, they were ambushed and his guns smoked hotly as he, the Justicar, and The Tank Born fought through the waves back to the ship.

With the betrayal of the ambush of the collector ship, his crew asked for help with personal matters, and he agreed to help them, keeping things professional between them all. Until The Justicar asked for his help, the burning in his chest became brighter and his chest felt tight when she revealed her quarry was her own daughter, a predator, a hunter of organics, one who relished in the hunt and the kill. He could tell it lifted one weight and placed another when her very own daughter laid dead at their feet, his body still heavy under the effects of being attacked by the predator. Yet he forced his body to move and the grieving and weary mother let him rest a hand on her shoulder for a moment before she shook it off, becoming the Justicar once more and ready to fight for him without conflict.

He was once again in the room with the view of the stars, the Justicar beside him as they talked of their lives. He finally pressed the subject of them, and the feelings he had building within him. She acknowledged that she too felt things for him that she had long thought dead. Yet their mission and her code were too highly held for her to throw them away. He found an answer for her every worry, but when they were about to kiss her biotics flared, and he paused, and she gave a small request of not trying further for her code was important.

In Another Time, Another Life.

He respected it but their eyes would linger on one another when they were near or even just catching glimpses, the feelings burning and their moments fleeting, but they had their mission, and it was just another weight for them both to carry.

He dreamed of finding a dead Reaper and finding a Geth with familiar armor, along with the mission priority. He dreamed of activating the Geth it offering to fight with them. He had a mission of heretics, and they rewrote them, rather than destroy them, a decision many questioned but they followed his lead. He dreamed of upgrades to his ship to protect his crew and his ship, he dreamed of a probe landing on a planet and the AI asking if he was serious about it.

They assaulted the collectors, his team moving efficiently throughout the base, saving their crew and the Salarian Doctor led them to safety as The Convict helped them traverse the bug field. The Cerberus Woman and the Justicar at his side as the Turian lead the defense teams. He dreamed of a human Reaper, and of destroying it. Of the Illusive figure trying desperately to convince him to keep the base as he dropped the bomb into the reactor.

He dreamed of the base exploding as they raced toward the ship, his crew fully saved and no one dying. The Justicar grabbed his hand as he missed the ship, hauling him up seemingly effortlessly with a glow of blue as they entered the ship quickly, and starting their flee for survival from the exploding ship.

He dreamed of a shadow beast, and helped the Asari friend find him, getting their revenge as they fought him, fist crashing against a jaw as strong as steel. They were friends, and they were fine with that, embracing in triumph. They separated quickly enough as the Asari took up her new role as the shadow intelligence master.

A leader of an Alliance fleet sent him on a mission to rescue a project to deal with the Reapers. He rescued the woman, and was betrayed by her, they were slaves to the Reapers. He only had one choice. He tried to warn them, but he destroyed the relay.

His dreams in the darkness finished and he was jerked into awareness again, his body screaming in pain, arching and thrashing, or so he thought it was, all he knew was pain.

"John...Wake...Up…"

He dreamed of the Reapers attacked while he was stripped of his rank and dismissed from the Alliance, yet they kept him under compound arrest. He was given a guard, a mountain of human muscle who seemed to talk in slang and nicknames. He was a good kid, eager for a fight, James. Then the human woman from when he first gathered a crew was there, a new rank to go with her appearance. She was still skeptical, and it burned, but he had other issues to worry about, such as the giant machine bastards falling from the sky, obliterating Earth.

They escaped, barely, and left an Admiral behind to fight, he was reinstated, to fight a war that no one believed was coming. They told him to go to Mars, and to find his Asari friend, Liara, that she had found something. Cerberus had found it as well though, and theory had to fight to gain ground, and even then they were almost too late. He watched as his friend, Ashley was smashed into the side of a crashed shuttle, her body going limp. He fired shot after shot into the robot, ending whatever its form of life was, a rage settling in his stomach, right beside the weight of saving everyone in the galaxy.

The memories of the Reaper war were the newest but also the most fragmented. He dreamed of going to the jewel of the galaxy, visiting friends, The Assassin, Thane, being one of them, of spectres and their assignments, and of the Turians needing help to secure their help for Earth. Of seeing a friend on the moon of the Turian homeworld. Garrus, the name finally came to him after many memories. It felt good to have such a friend by his side, but then the dreams became fragmented, flashes of planets being sieged of people rescued of research teams, of survivors, of mercenaries, of regiments of troops of all races.

The Krogan were needed, and that led to another friend, the new leaders of the Krogans, Wrex, it suited him to be leading his people with a wise mind and a firm hand. Yet the Krogan wanted a cure, and the solarians had it.

They made a detour, seemingly unimportant, but it would end in the discovery of the Last Voice of the Protheans, Javik. He would wage war against his life long foe once again.

A fragmented flash of a lab and Hold The Line, of Cerberus and a female Krogan, immune to the Genophage. Mordin, the scientist from their collector mission, another good friend. Many races joined forces to fight, but politics where needed. It dragged on, and his memories were full of worlds falling as they raced through systems saving teams and civilians as they evaded reaper forces.

An academy where a Convict turned into a teacher, Jack, and of students being saved, of a special student named David being seen again. Of being saddened at seeing the best and brightest having to face war.

Wrex, told of a squad of Krogan that would be helpful in reclaiming tuchanka, and he went to help them, they were fighting the Rachni, the telepathic beast he had freed when they faced Liara's mother. Grunt, a feeling of protectiveness and fondness erupted from the memories of a Krogan having grown to be a true warrior from the naive tank born one he had been. The dreams became choppy again, but the Rachni Queen was released, and only Grunt was able to make it out alive of his company, and relief flitted across the weights in his stomach.

A Turian squad rescued then another mission to disable a bomb that had been planted for emergencies now a potential tipping point in the scales of peace and winning against the Reapers. The Turian squad leader sacrificed himself, the primarchs son his memories reminded him, to keep the bomb from exploding, and the Turians and Krogan entered into an even more tense truce.

The memories were of storming the harsh wasteland of a planet, and the reaper forces coming. Many forces were decimated by the Reaper on the planet as he fought their forces wave after wave. Yet he did not falter as he fought for every inch forward, for the cure of the Krogan, for the effort of the War, to help his friends. They rang the bell, and the worm monster, Kalros attacked the Reaper to devastating effect. Mordin, the friend doing what needed to be done.

Had To Be Me, Someone Else, May Have Gotten It Wrong.

Another name added to the list of people lost in the war.

The jewel of the galaxy, the Citadel he remembers now, was under attack by Cerberus, so hell bent on attacking each other instead of fighting the Reapers. They had to save the council again, and Kai Lang was a dangerous adversary one who fought a dying Thane to a stand still. Thane, perhaps slower do to his age, or perhaps his illness or maybe even just dumb luck on the Cerberus's agents part, was stabbed, saving the councilor and Shepard, that was what they all called him, ran after Kai Alng, anger burning through his senses.

Ashley was a Spectre, and Undina was a traitor. One shot and the Human councilor laid dead on the ground, a traitor to all races not just Humanity.

Omegas Queen, Aria, requested his help, she had been ousted from her throne and it was up to them and mercenaries to retake it for their full support. It was a long fight, rallying a resistance against cerberus and the masterful tactician that took the throne from her. Aria's friend died saving the people of Omega she cared for, and Aria gave the tactician to Shepard, letting him be of use for the intel he could provide. She complained of his softness rubbing off on her, but she was still a Queen that commanded respect, but perhaps her iron fist would lossen just enough to give Omega a new era.

The Quarians had started a war against the Geth and were losing, he had warned them against it when he had saved his Quarian friend Tali from being exiled. Now she was an admiral and wanted his help against the Geth. They attacked a dreadnought of the Geth and there they reunited with a familiar Geth, Legion. Shepard-Commander.

They had to rescue an admiral, leaving his men behind but without his leadership many more would die, though it still weighed heavily in his stomach, the weights weighing more and more. Legion helped them in attacking a geth consensus, shutting down many of their communications and giving the Quarians a chance to regroup. Then it was memories of Rannoch, and the fight to the bunker, only to find it was not a bunker but rather a Reaper, and it bore down on him with death seemingly guaranteed. Yet the weapon in his hands would save him, save them all. The Reaper stalked forward, ever closer, and he moved out of the way of the beam, and he felt as if it was toying with him in instances, but still ships opened fired as the targeting gun locked on one final time and the entire fleet fired upon the Reaper, and it fell.

Shepard Commander, I must go to them. I'm sorry, it is the only way.

Peace between a warring race for the sake of the fight against the Reapers, and for friends, though another one had fallen.

More fragmented memories of planets and probes and rescues and salvage missions.

The Asari councilor wants him to help Thessia and she tells of a monetary he may be interested in helping, though her lips are sealed on the details he knows he needs help and he needs their resources.

So he goes to the monastery first, almost out of instinct as if he is pulled by some invisible force, he believes it to be important, somehow. He remembered it being eerie as no power was seemingly found, with large glass windows and cold wind. Why this was so vivid he could not recall, until he saw it, or rather her. The Justicar, Samara, and flames filled his chest, his heart maybe. Though he felt a strong pull to her presence the flame was doused by the situation, she was here for her daughters, the ones who chose isolation, not like her first, not like Morinth. He agreed to help them without hesitation, something his team noted he was sure. It wasn't even a choice, it was instinct, a deeply rooted desire to protect the one in front of him. He dreamed of feelings so strong he would walk into Hell with her. He wondered if that was the same feelings his friends had. His unconscious self doubted it this was different, he was certain.

They could only save one, and he was forced to drag her daughter, the other sacrificing herself for her sister as well as taking out the Asari abominations. The young Asari, Falere was stronger than she looked, and he had to use more effort than he thought he would to keep moving backwards as she cried for her sister.

He dreamed of moving quickly, stopping Samara from fulfilling her Code, saving her and her daughter.

I do not need a building to honor my own code...If they return they won't take me alive.

I will visit.

The war raged on, and the Asari were in danger, their home world finally facing a full occupying force of reapers. He dreamed of Asari blood pooling around his feet as he forced his body to just keep moving forward. One step at a time as they fought through reaper forces with Asari assistance. It cost a lot of lives, and in the end Cerberus got away with what they had fought for. Anger moved the weight in his stomach as he was forced to watch them be one step ahead once again.

They tracked the bastard, Kai Lang to Sanctuary, and they found experiments that cemented the feelings he had of the Illusive Man, he was insane, controlled, he had become the Reapers slave. He turned his back on what it meant to put humanity first, torturing and turning them, all for a chance of Control. Miranda was there, trying to save her sister once again from the man who made her. Henry Lawson was pushed out of a window by Miranda as her anger flared and her body gloweed blue.

No Deal.

An ancient being laid dormant, and they had awoken it, convincing it to fight the reapers again, as they had before, for better or worse.

They had the Cerberus bastards cornered, and it was time to finally stop playing catch up. To finally pull ahead, or so he thought as he fought through their Reaper augmented forces. He fought his way to the dark room the Illusive man should have been in, but he had already fled, like a coward. The catalyst was the Citadel and the reapers knew it, the Illusive Man had probably damned them all with his greed, yet he would not stop fighting until he could no longer breath. Killing Kai lang was just a cherry on top.

That was for Thane you son of a bitch.

Earth, it was worse than when they first attacked, and it looked nothing like his memories from when his mother and father had brought him when he was younger. He fought his way through the forces on the ground, taking out the canons that kept their air squads at bay.

These memories were the clearest but they were jumbled, hard to make sense of as they flashed by. They fought and fought, taking down a Reaper, and then the run to the beam. Of calling for the Normandy to pick up his crew, of an explosion, of pain, of Marauder Shields.

His everything hurt in the dream, memories, whatever they were, as he moved in burnt armor, it melted to his skin in multiple places, yet he trudged forward, each step more of a half fall. He found Anderson, a damn good friend, and the Illusive Man, a slippery enemy. They talked, while a gun was unwillingly pointed. The Illusive man freed himself the way Saren did, his last act of defiance, a broken man, but free in the end.

A final Conversation with a damn good friend.

You'd make a damn good father Shepard. Your kids would be proud.

My dad is Commander Shepard.

A Choice, but not one, he stalked toward the red, a weight pressing into his mind, trying to wrest his mind away but his boots thudded as he moved forward, his gun firing.

His back sliding down a wall, blood pooling underneath him as he looked at a beam of light emitting from the Crucible, the weapon firing. He watched as a shuttle flew closer and closer as explosions rocked his vision.

Someone came back for him and the silver and blue of the Normandy was the last thing he saw as explosions rocked the ship and lights and warning sirens bellowed, and his vision turned into the darkness he recognized as what he found himself trapped in now.

As he realized this the darkness grew brighter and brighter and pain entered his mind again.

A deep gasp of air as brown eyes opened and lights entered weakened eyes.

He was awake once again, and everything hurt.

AN: Well there it is, hope you enjoyed it! Please review, constructive criticisms are also welcomed as are just general comments. As usual, thank y'all for reading.

This is Chapter 1 of a new story. I don't know when chapter 2 will come out or how many this will have, I just know it won't be a lot of chapters. I just want to tell a little story and we'll see how it goes.

I kept Shepard as John in this so that he could kind of be a bit of a blank slate for the story, though I did base him off one of my many playthroughs. He's a Spacer War Hero, and mostly Paragon, (who can pass up headbutting the krogan or sabotaging the blue suns options in ME2?). I did change a couple of things that didn't really happen in the games but I write the stories I want to read, and as this is a Shepard/Samara story I wanted to make a believable build up for what comes next. I also may add things that happen from mods, because mass effect 3 has some really good mods that really make the game better in my opinion. If y'all want I can list the mods I used so you can experience them as well.

I hope I did Samara justice as this is my first toe into the water of writing Mass Effect (though I do enjoy the games).