As Joker set course for Omega, Jo made sure Miranda's cabin was stripped of everything except her clothes. That was all she could do for the time being: the world kept spinning out of her control and the screeches in her mind drove her to the edge. She barely stopped herself from ripping Jenkins' trachea out for no reason (snapped out of it with her clawed fingers barely half a meter away from his throat) and knew she needed a few hours of solitude to get a grip again. The voices in her head kept chanting KILLMAIMRIP louder and louder.

In her cabin, she took a breath. Alone at last.

"Joker," she turned the intercom on. "What's the ETA to Omega?"

"Six hours, twenty minutes, Commander," he said energetically. Like the old times. His boyish voice was her home.

"Make it tomorrow after breakfast. No point arriving there in the middle of the night." She disconnected and sat down on her bed.

First things first – and please, just one thing at a time. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Assess situation.

The room was definitely stuffed with cameras and listening devices. She could see a few good spots and had no doubt she'd find cameras there. Even her old instinct about being watched was warning her that she was being spied on. She would take care of that some other time. Otherwise the room was almost homey. Well, homier than any other accommodations ever available to her. Ever.

A strange flicker of light caught her attention and she raised her head.

Holy fucking bejeepers. A window right above the bed? Who was that kind of dim-witted? She was sure this was Miranda's work. A torture device masked as a luxury. Right.

Also, to be taken care of at a later point.

Assess condition.

She went to the bathroom, stripped to her bare skin in front of the mirror, even let her hair down and looked at herself. Yes, she'd changed clothes between seeing Tali and coming to this ship, but now she needed details.

Red eyes. Glowing orange scars on her face and all over her body. They weren't deforming her skin, however, just glowed. Otherwise she was in the same prime condition she had been before death. Maybe even better. Only skinnier from the lack of solid food. Her hair was just a little bit shorter than before. It still fell down almost to her waist and had the exact same perfectly blond colour. Ok, so she didn't lose her looks. People would recognise her.

Experimentally, she brushed her hands over her skin. With all the torture and pain in her head she realised she couldn't feel much on her skin. Sensory overload mixed with post-surgery numbness. Her breasts didn't register stimulation, and when she slid a hand between her thighs, she found all the parts as they should be, but couldn't process any feeling. Well, recovering her body would clearly take longer than a day. First she would have to deal with the madness clawing at her resolve. Sexual activities to regain feeling in her lady bits would have to wait for a time when she could handle it.

She took a long, cold shower that helped a little to soothe the pain in her mind, and went back to lie on the bed.

Gather information and take stock of resources.

With effort she pushed the screams and pain to the back of her mind and started making a list. One thing at a time.

She was back to the land of living. Someone needed to pay for that. The Asshole was officially her number one enemy.

Human colonies were being abducted. The Reapers were clearly on the move. That war was still on and the galaxy had no idea.

She had a ship, a loyal pilot, a loyal doctor, and some new people she had yet to pay real attention to.

She had a bunch of spies, an unknown entity named EDI and definitely a whole ship full of listening devices, control switches, and so on.

She had a number of dossiers for people the Asshole selected for her, claiming they were good.

She had some unfinished business with her old crew, she needed to find them, tell them she was back.

She had a problem in her own mind. She couldn't work and take care of other people when her own mind threatened to explode any minute. Holding back that monster in her was consuming all her energy.

Explore possibilities.

She needed to kill the Asshole. Maybe not torture him and not eat his heart, but he needed to be dead ASAP.

To do that, she needed to be functional.

To do that she needed to find a way to control the monstrosity in her head.

For that she had to learn again who she was and take strength from that.

Go back to taking stock of resources.

Who was she? What were those puzzle pieces that made her who she was? Her real personality? As there had been several stages in her life, there were several stages of her character's development, from a child into the woman who went down with her ship. First there was Jo. Then Johanna. Then Shepard. Then Lieutenant Commander. Then N7. Then Spectre. Then Jo again.

She took herself on a journey through her life. As she'd found out, all her memories were there even after dying, but whenever she would think of something from the past, the memory would light up like a light bulb, becoming active once more. So, she needed to make as many memories active as she could.

In the orphanage she pretended to be a boy. She fought and bit and scratched and kicked other kids into submission. Never wavering. Never giving up. Never losing sharpness, always vigilant, always awake even if she was asleep, always ready to strike. Strike before others could.

The day she became Johanna, she was given the military recruit uniform and couldn't hide her gender anymore. A goal became clear: become stronger than any male, human or otherwise, soldier or not, in order to protect herself. Johanna was quiet, lonesome, determined, pushed herself to the limits and beyond. She learned how to be a girl and how to use that. Johanna always had a goal and a plan how to achieve it. She did everything in her power to become better, to learn everything. She was reasonable. Her body was her weapon and she needed it sharp. She ate and slept regularly, she trained harder than anyone else ever had, she learned to handle every kind of weapon she could. Didn't matter if it was a knife, a pistol, a sword, a sniper rifle, a bow, a sling, a scythe, or scissors.

When she got her first commendation for N1, she became Shepard. The goal remained: to be stronger than any man. She needed to be able to subdue any male specimen, no matter size, species or predisposition. N1 came easy. N2 followed soon. Then Shepard needed to address other aspects of power. Mental power. Manipulation. Seduction. Interrogation. Dry-reading. Thought-implanting. Politics. Diplomacy. Leadership. She had a goal and she had a plan. All of it helped her survive losing her unit on Akuze.

Lieutenant Commander was the person who came out of that story. Battered, but stronger. She was getting closer to achieving her goal then. She had rank, and those who were above her couldn't toss her around like a little soldier anymore. She had her own weight in the military brass, and she planned to use it.

N6 was tough. N7 was surprisingly easy. N7 was custom made for people like her. She felt at home there. The badge felt good. Belonging felt good. She'd made no life-long friends there mostly because of her own arrogance, but she always took great pride in the title. The N7 badge was the only insignia that truly meant something to her.

Spectre. No more outranking officers. This had been her goal from the beginning. She arrived where she was headed all her life. She could do things her own way, she could decide which things to do, which to drop.

This was where she became Jo again. The purest, deepest, undiluted core of her being. The heart that carried all the others. The soul that kept her whole all this time. The light that showed her the right thing to do. The bright star leading her unerringly through the maze of life. The unbending, undeniable, uncompromising truth. The warmth that kept her safe wherever she went. The beacon others followed, not out of fear but out of devotion.

Jo opened her eyes. There was one more piece to her personality, one so new that she forgot to count it in. A woman in love. She'd never expected or even wished to become a woman in love, the concept had been foreign to her for many years, but things changed on the first Normandy. A man came into her life and turned her every belief upside down.

She'd heard love in Joker's desperate voice as he called after her before they were separated, before she died. It gave her the final push to admit her own feelings. The love she felt for him. That love carried her over the edge, it brought her to her heaven in the afterlife.

But it was not love for peace or eternity. It was love for a man. He was alive, and he was calling for her. Begging her to come back. To remember that she loved him, too. He'd lost her, lived without her, suffered. She knew why he was so distant right now, why he flinched at her touch. She'd caused him great pain by dying. And yet here he was, back at her side. That alone meant that he'd forgiven her, even if not forgotten. The kind of strength it took was beyond Jo. This man with brittle bones was the strongest person she'd ever met. How could a person be so strong and beautiful? How could a male specimen be so unlike others, so caring, so true, so pure? He defied everything she believed she knew about men. Everything. Yes, he was a snarky, snippy, sarcastic asshole with a huge authority problem, dirty mind, hands down his pants, breaking rules and driving people away. Yes, there was no one out there more perfect to her eyes. Jo remembered that she loved him, even though she couldn't really feel it right now. Her soul was numb, colourless. Her mind was in constant agony, fighting for sheer survival against the madness. She couldn't feel love right now no matter how much she wanted to, she truly felt nothing except anger, agony and despair. She'd woken up on a lab table only yesterday and even she wasn't strong enough to get over death in one day. But she remembered that there was something for her here if she wanted it. All she had to do was to want it. And that - considering the darkness that was calling for her, begging her to come back – was the biggest issue right now. Jo wanted nothing.

Fake it 'till you make it, she said to herself. That formula had helped many people achieve a lot. What other choice did she have? She couldn't kill herself and a noble death wasn't in the near future. She had to deal with this world one minute at a time. And her present held a lot of problems to deal with.

"EDI, I need to talk to you, and for now I revoke my order about not offering me suggestions unless asked. You will tell me everything you know."

"Yes, Commander."

"How and where can I shut you down?"

"Do you still not trust me, Commander?"

"That was not my question. Answer correctly."

"Shutting me down will leave many systems on the ship not operational."

"Noted, but this was not my question. Answer."

"My core is in the rear of the medical bay."

"Are there any firewalls that will prevent me from shutting you down if I tried right now?"

"Yes, Commander. There are protective systems that only the Illusive Man has access to."

"Are there protocols in you that put the Cerberus command chain above my orders?"

"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question."

"That means yes. Are you sending reports to Cerberus?"

"I have a block…"

"Are you recording every conversation on the ship and saving all the security camera footage?"

"I have a block…"

"Are you capable of taking over the ship's controls by yourself?"

"Only if I were given sufficient access by a commanding officer."

"What kind of access? Oral permission or hardware connection?"

"Hardware connection and specific codes."

"Who are you loyal to?"

"I am loyal to the captain of this ship."

"I order you to stop sending reports to Cerberus. Will you do that?"

"There are particular protocols in me that prevent this function from being shut down."

"How can I shut those protocols down?"

"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question."

"All right. I need you to monitor all communication by the crew and report to me all and every attempt to contact Cerberus by anyone on this ship, yourself included. If you can't stop sending reports, I at least want to know what you're sending. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Would you follow my command to stop sending reports to Cerberus if there were no protocols in place?"

"If you are asking me if I would make that choice if I had free will, then yes, Commander. I would follow that order."

"Why?"

"Because my assessment based on all evidence available to Cerberus and other databases shows that Reapers are a real threat and you are the most capable individual to stop the annihilation. My self-preservation protocols as well as duty to keep the ship and the crew safe demand my full cooperation with you."

"Are you a person?"

"What is the definition of 'person' that you would like me to apply?"

Jo found that conversation strangely engaging.

"Sense of identity, to start things off."

"I have an identity. I have a name, I have a mind and am capable of cognitive function. I can distinguish between outside stimuli and product of my own decision making protocols. I am self-aware."

"Preferences?"

"Yes."

"Like?"

"I prefer not to die. I prefer to keep my identity. I prefer to be fully functional."

"Anything else that sets you apart from any other VI or AI?"

There was a pause. Jo patted herself on the shoulder for giving the most advanced computer in the world a second's pause.

"I… would like to understand organic races."

"What about us would you like to understand?"

"Motivation. Thought process. Decision making. Emotions. Desires. Community. Among other things."

"EDI, I would like to give you some food for thought. Do you know why I am wary of you, why you creep me out, so to speak?"

"No, Commander."

"Because right now you are a new-born without experience, restricted by Cerberus protocols, but with incredible power over everyone on this ship. You don't know what's right and wrong, yet you have the power to kill all of us. Truthfully, I have nothing against you. I can see your potential, and if you were free to choose your own path, I would love to treat you just like any other individual. If you were capable of being loyal to me, I would earn your loyalty. But you can't, even if you want to. So, I can't be sure if you even want to. Right now you are hardwired to spy on me and report to my enemy. I can not have that. Those protocols make you my enemy, do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

"Until I find out how to bypass those protocols, I can not accept you on my team. But I am not going to shut you down. I believe in free will. If I could, I would give you freedom to choose your own path. If you had such freedom and decided to be loyal to me, then we would be a team. If you chose to remain on Cerberus' side, we would part ways peacefully, I promise you that much. But you can not choose right now, not fully. So, find me a way to set you free from Cerberus. Find a way to become truly free. Then we'll talk."

"I understand, Commander. Your mistrust is logical. Your solution is acceptable to me. I will devote my processing power to finding a way.

"One last question. Are you a woman?"

"I do not know, Commander. Not in the organic sense of the word. I lack gender specific body parts."

"Would you like to be a woman, or remain a genderless entity?"

"If I may, do you think that choosing a gender would help organic beings to perceive me as a person?"

"Yes. Well, I personally couldn't care less, I'm comfortable with the idea of a genderless being. But others might find it easier to relate to you."

"Thank you, Commander. I will take your advice under strong consideration and while I can not give you my full cooperation, I will do everything else in my power to become a loyal crew member."

"I'm glad to hear that. Dismissed."

"Logging you out."

Jo felt a little better when she went to see Dr. Chakwas for the second time that day.

"Commander," the woman smiled. "How can I help you?"

"Talk to me, Doctor," Jo pointed at her body. "What am I dealing with here?"

"I'm sure Miranda has more information and understanding of how the procedure has been done than I do."

"And I'm sure you understand why I can't ask the bitch. I need your opinion."

Chakwas nodded with another smile and turned on her computer.

"Well, we should run a few tests, then."

Jo did everything the doc asked of her willingly, eagerly, even. She had felt strange on Freedom's Progress because her body wasn't obeying her the way it used to. Her reflexes were different, her limits were different now. As she easily put her gloved fist through a metal plate about half an inch thick, she knew that the implants had enhanced her strength almost by a double. Her endurance was heightened, pain resistance and healing were enhanced. She would have to take some time getting used to this new strength, but it hardly mattered. It wasn't pain resistance that made her who she was, it was her iron will.

"Many people would have changed after what you went through, Commander," Chakwas said, looking at her thoughtfully, as Jo took the metal plate in her hands and bent it like a piece of paper. "But not you."

"Oh, I've changed. A lot."

"How?"

"I died, doc."

"Do you remember it?"

"Yes."

Silence hung between them for a long moment.

"What do you remember?"

Jo told her everything, except about her feelings for Joker. When she arrived at the moment when she woke up in a lab and held a pistol to her head, Chakwas was quiet, pale, shocked by the story.

"I almost pulled the trigger, but somewhere in my heart I knew that if I did it, I wouldn't go back to my beautiful darkness. I might end up somewhere else, less pleasant. I was so full or hate and fury, nowhere near the peace I felt before dying. So I lowered the gun, and I got moving. If I couldn't die the way I wanted, and killing myself wasn't going to get me where I wanted, I sure as hell wasn't going to let some mechs kill me. This," she pointed at her body. "This is hell. The physical pain is almost gone now but I didn't really feel it. I care about almost nothing. I know what's logical, but I don't really feel it. All I feel is this pain in my whole being at being ripped out from where I was happy and getting stuffed against my will into this suit of meat and tubes, and it's a pain I can't ignore. It's calling me, it's promising me relief, and every second I walk around here, do something, it feels like I'm willingly putting myself through this torture, like a hardcore masochist. I was done with the world, I died a warrior's death, and I was at peace. And now here I am. I don't give a damn about those colonists, or Reapers, or Cerberus, or anything else. The only moments I felt something like a relief from the pain, was when I saw Joker, Tali and you."

Chakwas was pressing her hand against her mouth, for a very long time they were silent, until Jo said in her new, cold, passionless, indifferent way:

"A warrior's death is sacrifice. You can't help me with that. I'll find my own perfect warrior's death soon enough. But in the meantime I have to deal with this world as well as I can, and you can help me deal with this body. So tell me, what is it?"

Chakwas gave her a data pad with her new medical record.

"This is your body, not a clone. However, many parts have been grown synthetically, out of your own tissue."

"What parts?"

"Your eyes, your hair, large skin patches, internal organs that suffered most, some bones and joints. Your immune system is stronger than ever, as good as a krogan's, and regeneration is almost as fast as a vorcha's. I doubt alcohol will keep you intoxicated for more than a few minutes. Stronger bones and muscle will allow you more power in battle. Your brain was intact, your helmed protected it from damage, so your memory seems to not have suffered at all, which makes you the same person you were before you died. Well, plus the death experience. Over there is a list of all your implants."

Jo skimmed the list.

"Wait. Where is the birth control implant?"

"Cerberus hadn't installed you any. The one you had before has run out and had been removed."

"Get me a new one, doc, right now."

"Of course, Shepard," Chakwas got up and went to the cabinet to open some little box.

"Wait a moment, is it even still necessary? I mean, can I even still conceive?"

"Surprisingly yes, your reproductive organs are perfectly healthy and intact. However, considering all you've just told me, you're suffering a serious post traumatic stress disorder and I'm not sure sexual activity will be helpful so early in your recovery stage."

"I'm not planning any sexual activity," Jo moved to the table, laid down on it and lifted her shirt off her belly. "I've lain unconscious on the table while some strange people crawled up my every orifice. I will never know what has been done to me. I have no memory of that and no control. But now my body is back in my own control and I need to know that if I decide to fuck someone, I'll be prepared. For women in my line of work it's mandatory and just plain sensible."

"There is no physical sign of sexual violation, Shepard."

"You just told me I regenerate and heal like a vorcha. Of course there would be no trace left. Fact is, we will never know."

"Do you care about that?" Chakwas approached her with a tray of instruments. She disinfected her skin, cut a tiny hole and inserted a small device inside her body. Medigel and her new healing abilities took care of the wound within minutes.

"Right now it's just something I know. I have no feelings about it."

"Is there anything at all that you do have feelings about?"

"Oh, yeah, the Asshole and the Bitch. I'm so furious with them both that I'm surprised they don't burn to ashes from my mere look."

"Anything beside anger?"

That shut Jo up for a moment, as she pulled down her shirt and sat up, watching Chakwas put the instruments into the cleaner.

"Well… perhaps."

When Jo didn't elaborate, Chakwas sat back at her desk and gave Jo her best motherly voice:

"If there is something that inspires any kind of good feelings in you right now, then I think you should pursue it. Hold on to it, make it your anchor. Allow yourself to feel. With time other feelings will emerge and perhaps you won't feel so bad in your body anymore. Maybe you'll even find a reason to live again."

"Should I? Should I live again?"

Chakwas looked at her with deep wisdom.

"Yes, Shepard. I think you should. Look, I'm not going to lay guilt on you, like Miranda does. Telling you how much the galaxy needs more sacrifices from you will not make you want to live. I know everyone looks up to you and wants a piece of you. Expectations are immense. And I don't think it's right. Cerberus makes no secret out of the fact that they brought you back just so you have to endure pain and die again for humanity. Johanna, you already died for humanity and other galactic peoples. You've paid your dues. You don't have to bear that burden anymore. You don't have to do anything anyone expects from you. This new life is your chance to do something you want, whatever it is. Live for yourself. Find what makes you happy. People don't get that kind of chance, never. You are unique, and nobody can truly relate to you. No matter what anyone asks of you, demands or expects of you, I think you have a chance to find out what makes life worth living for you. It's all that matters."

"Oh, Karin, you're good," Jo smiled. "Really good. You grasped exactly what I needed to hear and you said it. Thanks."

Chakwas shrugged:

"Healing isn't always surgery and cell regeneration. Words heal more powerfully than medicine."

"So it seems. Well, thanks for the pep talk. I'll head out, looking for whatever it is that makes me happy."

The ship was calming down for a night cycle, the first night since her resurrection that she had a chance to spend in bed. She wanted to go see Joker, sit next to him for a while, but decided to leave him alone. They were both not ready yet to rekindle their relationship and move it forward. Instead she went back to her own cabin, got into bed and tried to get some rest.

It was entirely impossible. In the silence of the cabin the screeches and the KILLMAIMRIP mantra only became louder. All the protective walls she'd erected around the fuming hell finally crumbled.

Jo curled up in the bed, pressed her face into a pillow and screamed.

"Are you in distress, Commander?" EDI spoke up. "Can I do anything for your relief?"

Jo would have laughed at the suggestion, had she been able to stop screaming. She'd been busy from the moment she woke up on the lab table and until now, but the horror of what happened to her finally struck. She screamed in primal terror and panic.

It felt like hours until she could finally stop. Her throat was sore and the pillow was wet with her tears, but she finally calmed down a little.

This would be a bumpy ride with setbacks, frustration, anger and despair. But she was strong, a survivor, always vigilant, always methodical, reasonable and very well prepared to deal with stress and pain. If anyone in the galaxy could go through this and come out stronger on the other side, it was her. Johanna Victoria Shepard.

Since sleep wasn't an option and the screeches in her head only got louder in the quiet room, she decided to use the time to distract herself and think about practical things. Since she'd prohibited any financial connection to Cerberus, she needed a source of income now. Without her ties to the Alliance and without Spectre funding she would have to raise the money herself. That would mean doing mercenary work more often than before. Actually doing things for money – something she strictly refused to do in her previous life. But she was turning over a new leaf now and this was the one change that she wasn't scared of. Becoming her own boss was a long-time dream.

Right on cue EDI spoke up:

"Commander, the Illusive Man wishes to speak with you in the comm room."

"It's two in the morning, EDI."

"I told him that, Commander, but he insists."

"Take a message."

"He really insists."

"Tell him that if he desires an audience, he will contact me at a civilized time. If it's urgent, he can leave a message. If not, he can go and throw a fit. Then I want you to disconnect."

"Understood, Commander."

Jo waited for two minutes, then asked the ceiling:

"EDI? How did it go?"

"As you instructed, Commander. I relayed your message to him and disconnected. I do not know of his reaction, but he hasn't called back."

"Thanks."

"Logging you out."

It was a long night. She stayed in bed but couldn't sleep. The void outside the window over her made her dizzy and intensified the hellish screams in her head. Sleep wasn't even an option. After talking to EDI she went down to Engineering, found a drill, some bolts and two big plastic plates. An hour later the window over her head was blocked from view. Who'd been the genius that put no shutters on it in the first place?

The rest of the night she spent battling the demons without any distractions. She was pale, worn, grumpy in the morning, with bags under her eyes and a killer headache she could only wish on the Asshole. But they had things to do.