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Captain's Personal Log: Lazarus Station

I don't remember the first time I was born. I assume it was in a hospital somewhere. Or maybe a darkened alley, lit only by my newborn's flare of fitful biotics. I had to imagine the first time I was born because no one ever told me the story.

The second time was after I'd died. I remember it clearly. Dying, I mean. My lungs exploding with the need for oxygen they could not get. My mind shutting down, trying to focus on things that would comfort me: the warmth of his embrace, the touch of his lips, the joy of victory, being surrounded by my team, my friends. Blackness enveloping me instead.

I couldn't be mad at Joker. His obsession with our home was understandable. The Normandy was a wonderful ship and it was ignominious for her to be taken out in a surprise attack. I was almost glad to only outlive her by a few seconds. I'd lost consciousness from anoxia by the time my body hit the atmosphere of Alchera, though. At least, that's what I'd been told later on. All I remembered was the cold and my lungs burning from lack of air and my head growing heavy and dim.

I wondered if being born the first time was as terrifying and painful as the second. But then, as a newborn, I doubted I'd had surgical scars all over my face and body and the ache of an implant upgrade in the base of my skull. Nor were things exploding all around me with an Australian accented voice shouting at me to wake up.

I supposed I'd probably fought for my life the first time I'd been born, but the second time, I knew it. There were explosions, gunfire, betrayal, hostility and that was just from me. The betrayal? I played along with Cerberus. I was outnumbered and in enemy territory, I didn't think I had a choice. At least I had armor and a gun. And let's not forget the grenade launcher. But they definitely had numbers on their side.

Wilson. He puts me back together and then tries to kill me for money? I remembered the logs where he bitched about how much money was spent patching my ass up and then arranges a coup on the station so he could undo all his handiwork? Someone had no pride in his work.

My first thoughts upon waking were, "Where the hell is Kaidan? What have they done with Garrus?" I felt like my right and left hands were missing. They weren't there. I was alone. The men and women I'd depended on for the last year were gone. Kaidan not being at my back only underscored the void I felt in my soul (if I actually still had one). No one had my six. Or at least, no one I trusted.

Why the hell was I even alive? I'd died. I had given everything I had in the fight to stop Saren and the Reapers. Even my life. I hadn't been allowed to rest, though; apparently I was too wicked. The organization I'd tried to bring down, the one that named itself after the guardian of the Ancient Greek Underworld, brought me back to life, spending an ungodly amount of money on me. In old Earth legends, Cerberus was a three headed dog who stood guard over the River Styx, keeping the dead from crossing back over. However, this three-headed dog dragged me kicking and screaming back over.

I don't remember anything about dying. No peace, no joy, no sandy beaches. None of the people I'd lost had been waiting on me. Not even Ashley. I stood at the window of the space station they'd taken me to after evacuating me from the Lazarus base. I heard Jacob Taylor, a tall dark-skinned man wearing armor that was too tight to actually be called armor, come up behind me, "You know, you were a legend already when I was going through."

I snorted, my arms crossed over my chest, my eyes staring out into the void, daring myself to look into something that made me tremble in terror, "Oh, yeah? The drill sergeants tell you I come after bad little privates and second louies and eat them for dinner?"

He chuckled, "Something like that. More like eat your vegetables and you'll grow up big and strong like Shepard."

I barked a laugh. "So, Eden Prime, eh? The 232?"

He cleared his throat and came to stand next to me, "Any particular reason you're staring out at space like you're daring it to come get you?"

I slanted my eyes at him, "Don't psychoanalyze me, Mister Taylor." I looked back out at the void, breathing deeply. Why? Why the hell was I here? That guy with the cybertronic eyes told me I was here to speak for the colonists. To find them or avenge them.

If they were dead, I'd almost prefer to rejoin them. The only thing stopping me was the void. The one out there, and the one that filled me. How was this void keeping me around? Fear. I was afraid that if I died again, that the void I remembered would be all there ever was. But even the void was seductive: there was no pain from an overpowered implant, there was no loneliness from missing anyone, there was no fighting.

I clung to memory. Memory was my refuge. My friends. Kaidan. For the first time since waking up, wondering where he was, I allowed myself to think of him.

I woke up, my sheets still smelling like his cologne. I lifted my head out of the pillow and pulled my long hair out of my face to find him sitting on my desk chair watching me sleep. His dark curly hair was neatly in place and he was freshly shaved. I turned over on my side, allowing the sheets to slide down. "Shouldn't you already have fled for a sleeper pod, Kaidan?"

"I got distracted."

I sat up, smiling at his eyes following the sheet as I let it fall to pool around my hips. "Getting distracted on a mission, Lieutenant? That's often deadly."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, did you say something?" he asked, getting up and crossing back to the bed. He was back in his BDUs and despite how hot I thought he looked in them, I really would have preferred at that moment that he not be wearing them.

"I believe you still have a mission to accomplish, Lieutenant."

"And what's that, ma'am?" he said, kneeling beside the bed and wrapping his warm hands around my waist and pulling me toward him.

"I believe your commanding officer still has some stress to work out," I smiled against his lips. He kissed me, gently, but then pulled away.

"We're coming up on Alchera, Shepard," he told me, his voice serious.

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against his, "Geth activity, right. Can't we just go back to being on leave?"

"Then who would save the galaxy?"

"I don't really care."

Jacob's voice intruded on my memory, "So, how does it feel?"

"How does what feel?"

Expecting a question about my death, he surprised me when he asked, "To save the galaxy?"

I turned my head to look at him, "I haven't saved it yet. I've fought the first battle. The war's just begun, Mister Taylor. And I'm already tired of fighting."