Bec Note: I just wanted to give a shout out of thanks to my good friend Redlady26! You've been such a great help with this story and just a great friend to nerd out with. Thank you so much! :)

Chapter 3: Cool Points

"Commander Shepard! Wake up!"

Lane cringed. Her whole was body shaking and wracked with pain.

"Commander, the station is under attack. You need to get moving."

Lane opened her eyes only to shut them again. The white light flooding her vision hurt, but not as much as her whole body, especially when she was tossed about like a rag doll.

"You're not fully healed, but you need to get moving. Now."

Shepard leaned up, cringing with pain. She looked around expecting to see whoever was yelling at her. She saw no one.

"Shepard you need your pistol and your armor. Quick wasting time."

Lane shook her head, am I dreaming? She stumbled her way over to her the pistol. Seeing the armor, she put it on, wincing in pain at every move she made.

"This gun doesn't have a clip." Shepard said once she was settled.

"It's a med bay." The condescending tone in the woman's accented voice made Shepard want to punch her.

"Come on, Shepard. Someone is trying to kill you, you need to get moving. Dammit, get to cover! The wall's bout to explode!"

Shepard fell to the floor for cover, unable to stand any longer. She felt like death, actually? Didn't she die?

"Hey! Who the H are you and why am I not dead?" She yelled after the wall exploded.

"Shepard there's no time for an explanation. You need to move."

Shepard sighed with annoyance, this person was really starting to tick her off. "Look lady, I'm not in the mood to-"

"Mecs! Take them out." She interrupted.

Shepard grimaced as she moved, stumbling her way to a thermal clip across the room. I rather be dead.

…

Jacob Taylor had told her she wouldn't like the explanation of what had happened. He was right. Lane didn't like this at all, and she didn't like Miranda. The woman was a cold as cold could get it. And she talked to her like an experiment. Lane was trying her best to remain civil.

"We need to run some tests." Miranda said when they had finally gotten on the escape shuttle only after arguing about rescuing people form the station. The thought of leaving someone behind made Lane feel sick.

Jacob shook his head, "Come on, Miranda. That can wait. We need to explain what's going on." One cool point to Jacob Taylor, Shepard though idly.

"The Illusive Man can do that, but not before we make sure the project was a success." Negative 1,000 points to jerk wad, Miranda Lawson.

Shepard growled. She was about to break her no cursing thing. "Hey! I'm not some damn experiment. I'm a human being and right now I need answers. The last thing I remember was dying. Now you wake me up and tell me Cerberus has put me back together and I have some huge mission to accomplish. What the hell is going on?"

Lane studied their faces. Jacob looked sympathetic while Miranda looked cold and annoyed. Shepard didn't care. She wanted answers now, but what they told her almost made her wish she hadn't asked. Shepard couldn't quite get her head around it. She had been comatose for two years. Two freaking years. There had even been a funeral. One Jacob had attended out of respect. He told her of Anderson's speech, who had been present, and even what music they played. Shepard felt her heart sink. The only good news was that most of her crew had made it out alive, including Liara, the doc, Tali, and Joker. But they moved on. Everyone moved on. When she asked where her crew was now Miranda indifferently told her to ask the Illusive Man. Lane barely paid attention as the ice queen ran her test, asking questions of her past. She answered them in a whisper, her mind racing with all she had just learned. She couldn't believe it. In fact she didn't. Her conversation with the Illusive Man proved to be just as unnerving. He had no idea where her former crew was, and frankly he was starting to piss her off.

"If what you say is true, I'd consider helping you." Lane said when she was done questioning.

"Of course. I'd be disappointed if you accepted any of this without seeing it for yourself." He replied coolly. Lane huffed. He had all the right answers, the clever snake.

Lane finished her conversation with the Illusive Man then made her way back to Miranda and Jacob. She was beside herself, finding it difficult to even think coherently. Miranda had pissed her off again and admitted that she had wanted to put a control chip in her head. How much work had been done to her? Was she even still human? She pushed her thoughts aside. They had a mission to do.

…

The best part of the day was seeing Joker and Dr. Chakwas. Joker acted just like his old self, but there was a shadow in his eyes when he looked at her. She sighed. He probably had blamed himself for her death. Seeing Tali wasn't the happy reunion she had imaged. Her quarian friend was distant and unbelieving. She had even declined her offer to join her. Lane just went through the motions, only snapping out of her trance when the Collectors popped up on the screen on Freedom's Progress. That was just great. Human colonies were being taken by the Collectors who did only God knows what with their was she to do? She had been brought back for one purpose and one purpose only: to fight another impossible battle. No time for rest. No time to find her old crew. Just more fighting. More war. No comfort. Lane felt weak for wanting a moment to catch her breath. She felt weak in general. Was she even herself?

After meeting the yeoman, Kelly Chambers, who was a naïve little redhead… Lane excused herself from the rest of the grand tour. Jacob nodded his head understandingly and gave a respectful solute. Two more cool points. Miranda rambled on about needing to get things done and responsibilities. Lane ignored her, but made a mental note of deducting more cool points from her already terrible score. Shepard made her way to the elevator, ignoring the pleasant smile Chambers was giving her. She sank to the floor in the elevator, though she was annoyed at her choice when the doors hissed open seconds later. Grumbling, she pulled herself up and walked around her cabin.

The bed looked like heaven, but Lane wanted to shower first. She felt dirty. She felt… inhuman. Maybe she was a zombie. Her mind briefly flashed to the old horror flicks her father used to make her watch. They were old, like way before Earth even knew about aliens. She always enjoyed them though. The zombies shuffled slowly through the streets in search for brains. Shepard decided she must not be a zombie: she had no desire to eat brains and she wasn't bitten. She had been spaced. Maybe she was like in Mary Shelly's Frankenstein: a reanimated corpse stitched back together with science and lightning. The thought made her shiver as she began stripping herself of her armor. She threw it aside, not caring where it landed. The monster had been left on its own, learning from books and observing humans. Well, Shepard thought, I did wake up on an examination table with no one around. She quickly pushed it aside, deciding she was being ridiculous. She wasn't a zombie, and she wasn't Frankenstein's monster.

She stared at herself in the mirror of her bathroom. Her face was covered in glowing red scars. They lined her thinning cheeks and looked terrible against her terribly pale skin. She used to be tanner, not dark by any means, but she at least used to look healthy. Her hair was shorter, way shorter. It used to flow down her back when it was down. Now, she couldn't even put it up. It just barely reached her shoulders. Shepard realized she had probably lost all her old hair when she died. This was grown over the past two years. It was the same color though: her unusual brand of strawberry blonde, including dark reds, browns, and blonde strands. Garrus had always liked her crazy hair, or fringe has he called it. Her chest hurt when she thought of him. She pushed it aside and went back to inspecting her body.

Her eyes were the same blue, dark and striking. Her face, though pale, scarred, and thin still held her freckles as did her body. Her eyes traveled down further and she realized her scars didn't just stop on her face. They were everywhere. Little cracks of red ran all over her abdomen and chest. Lane traced them with her fingers. Her thighs and legs were the best. Very few scars were visible there and someone had shaved her legs, or lasered them, whatever. Her body shape was the same, if a little thin and weak. She felt weak all around. She doubted she had got much exercise while she was sleeping, or dead… or whatever. She made a mental note to see if this new Normandy had a workout room, she was going to need it. Her eyes found her heart shaped birth mark settled on her right hip. She idly wondered that if clones were exact copies. Would a clone carry a birthmark from the original? She pushed it aside, and decided you can't clone someone's personality. That was all still there. She felt like her, sort of. She talked the same way, thought in the same sarcastic manner, and even moved the same way. Maybe she was her, just an updated version. Shepard 2.0.

She shook her head and smiled weakly at her train of thought. She hated how ridiculous she was being, but she had to check. She turned around and looked at her back and bottom. They looked the same. Her bottom still held the same curve, but she could see her spine in her back. She really hated how small she had gotten, how out of shape she felt and looked. She turned back around and noticed that her breasts seemed smaller. She grimaced. Her bust was the best thing about her body. She shook her head, feeling stupid for being upset over her dumb chest. If she gained a little weight she would be fine. She just had to remember that.

She sighed and looked away from the mirror. Lane turned the shower on but stopped before standing under the water. She stared at her scarred hands, remembering much of her body was the same way. An old cartoon image popped in her mind of a doofy looking animal with smoke coming out of their ears. She tentatively put her hand under half-expecting to see sparks. She saw nothing and decided once again that she was being stupid. She wouldn't short-out because of the cybernetics in her. They were already surrounded by blood and all sorts of watery liquids. She was being stupid. Shepard bravely stepped into the shower and sighed. No smoke.

After a long shower, Shepard changed into some black sweat pants and a gray tank top with a Cerberus emblem on it. She huffed with disgust. Why Cerberus had to put their symbol on everything was beyond her. Shepard's stomach rumbled with hunger. She really didn't want to go down there and face any more people today or meet any more new people. She looked at her clock, it was late. Maybe no one was down there. She always hated keeping time on a ship.

Shepard slipped on some house shoes and got in the elevator. She went two floors down, where the mess hall used to be and hoped it was still there. Shepard tip-toed her way around the corner only to regret it. Jacob Taylor was sitting in the mess hall by himself sipping something in a white mug, with yet again, another stupid Cerberus logo on it. He looked up and smiled and Shepard briefly thought about dashing away then thought better of it. She smiled back and walked to the cabinets with the intent of eating whatever she found first. It would seem a pack of peanut butter crackers and some beef jerky would be her meal tonight. She got a bottle of water and sat down in front of Jacob.

"I could cook you something if you'd like." He offered with a smile.

"No thanks. I don't think I could stand the waiting." She smiled again than added a thank you.

Jacob was clad in the same wear as Shepard, comfy causal. She felt slightly more comfortable around him now that he was out of his Cerberus uniform.

"I suppose this is all pretty hard for you. Like a slap in the face." He commented thoughtfully.

Shepard really didn't want to talk about it, but she didn't want to seem like a jerk either. She was his commanding officer. If she was cold and distance he would lose faith in her. A leader had to have a connection with their crew. She nodded, "You could say that."

Jacob leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, "I just wanted to say what an honor it is to work with you, I just wish it was under better circumstances."

Shepard nodded again, uncertain of what to say. Plus she had a mouth full of jerky. She was quiet for a long time. She chewed slowly, wishing to have an excuse not to speak for as long as she could. Eventually, she had to speak. "So, what made you join Cerberus?"

Lane sighed internally with relief at her choice of question. Jacob was willing to talk and the more he talked, the more she didn't have to. She was surprised at his career in the Alliance and agreed with his reasons for joining Cerberus. As much as she hated to admit it, if Cerberus were the only ones doing anything she would have joined too. He told her of how everything had hit the fan when she died. Everything she had sought out to change and do fell on deaf ears. The Council was too concerned with making diplomatic relationships to even take notice of missing colonies. Lane was furious. Ambassador Donnel Udina was obviously a bad choice. An hour had passed as Jacob caught her up on what had happened the past two years. She was thankful for his kindness and understanding with her current state. He never pushed her to talk or made her feel out of place. Ten more cool points, she thought as they said their 'good nights'.

Shepard made her way back to her cabin, sitting down at her private terminal and reading up on the dossiers the Illusive man had sent her. She also stumbled across a message from Anderson. She smiled widely. Seeing Anderson would make this crazy situation slightly better. Getting on the extranet, Shepard searched for the Beatles. She downloaded a playlist of songs to her omi-tool and pushed play, letting their harmonies sing her to sleep. Blackbird singing in the dead of night. She sighed, hoping her mind would shut off so she could get to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.