Chapter 03

Jane Shepard

Shepard had watched the battle from the simple bed in her cabin with a detached numbness that couldn't quite process what was happening around her, because all her mental capacity was directed onto the very real fact that she'd been dead twenty-four hours ago. Everything came back to her almost all at once. The hunt for Saren, ambush by an unknown ship, gasping for air as she plummeted toward Alchera.

Where were the others now? What had they done with their lives over the last two years? The fact she could ask those questions at all meant her death had be worth something. Maybe not as glorious or heroic as sacrificing herself for the fate of the whole galaxy, but her friends and shipmates were worthy of her life a hundred times over. That's all that ever mattered: the safety of the people she cared about.

The door chime chirped. Shepard regarded the door with the recognition of a caveman beholding an omni-tool, then blinked and crossed to answer it. Rasa waited on the other side. Shepard could swear the other woman's eyes were somewhat swollen, but chose to say nothing about it. She stepped aside and let her rescuer inside. The first thing Rasa did was turn up the lights.

"Better." She took a breath, and turned back to face Shepard. "We need to talk."

"Are you going to explain what's going on here?"

She nodded. "But I should preface this by saying it's—"

"Don't care."

"Okay." Rasa perched on the edge of the bed. "You were killed a little under two years ago in an ambush by an unknown species that left no trace of their identity, and the wreckage of the Normandy was lost."

"Lost?"

"Okay, lost isn't the right world. We know it went down on Alchera, but the Alliance hasn't bothered to go in and dig it up—no doubt another expense deemed too risky."

"They didn't…?" Shepard rubbed her temple, the news kicking off a small migraine. "H-How did you get my body?"

"The Shadow Broker, actually. They went to the trouble of digging you up and sticking you in a stasis pod—you were quite the Collector's item. It was thanks to your friend Liara T'Soni and Operative Lawson that you were turned over to Cerberus, and not out beyond the Omega Four relay with the Collectors."

Questions of why the Collector's would want her were quashed in their crib by the mention of Liara, and an intense desire to ascertain the wellbeing of her old crew. "What exactly happened to everyone?"

"They were picked up and treated, then scattered because the Council wanted you buried and gone so they could go back to denying the existence of the Reapers. Whoever stayed on was reassigned and whoever left… Well, we still don't know where some of them ended up." She paused for a moment to think. "Liara is an information broker on Illium now, Wrex went back to Tuchunka, Tali is leading her own squad of Quarian spec ops, Williams has been reassigned as a Colonial Defence Advisor, and both Joker and Chakwas were scooped up by Cerberus. As for Garrus, well, he disappeared into the Terminus a few weeks after your funeral and we lost track of him."

"They…really did a comprehensive job separating everyone." There was a hint of sadness in her voice. "But the Reapers are still coming, and the Council are idiots for letting them go."

"And that's why Cerberus brought you back."

Shepard crossed to the window and stared into the reflection of her eyes. "If Cerberus spent all that money reviving me, why were they trying to kill me back there?"

A long, ratcheting silence settled in, before Rasa answered, "you're a…clone"

She turned to look at Rasa, who sat facing away from her. "A clone?"

"The Illusive Man wanted you back exactly as you were: no changes, no compromises. As a back-up, however, they created you to serve as an organ, blood, bone marrow donor should anything go wrong with your revival."

"A c-clone?"

"I know it's hard to acc—"

"Why were they trying to kill me?"

Rasa stood, and looked Shepard in the eyes. "As the project got closer to completion and the other Shepard's vitals began stabilising they determined you were no longer needed," she explained. "The Illusive Man was about to order you disposed of when I rescued you."

"How do you determine who's the real me?" Shepard's voice shook as her body surged with emotion at the existential nightmare presented. "We're clones—identical! How do you determine that the other me is more me than me?"

"You're a clone, vat-grown from cells, while the other you was reconstructed from the charred hunk of meat that was your original body."

"So…my whole purpose was to serve as spare parts?"

"I'm afraid so."

Something physically broke in Shepard's head. How could anyone live knowing what she knew? None of her old crew, or her mother, or any of the people she'd met on her journey were mourning her; they were mourning the true Jane Shepard. Monuments and memorials, all to commemorate the hero of the Citadel, not some cheap knockoff, some abomination. "Why?" she growled. "What gave them the right to play god?"

Rasa replied, "Cerberus is an organisation that encourages unchecked egos and breeds god complexes—the Illusive Man is worst of all."

Shepard's fists filled with handfuls of Rasa's outfit, and she spun the other woman round and slammed her back against the nearest bulkhead, knocking the wind from her. "You tell me where to find him! Now!"

"I don't know." The operative challenged her with a hard, honest look. "Only those assigned to Cronos Station know."

"Where do we find them?"

"We can't; personnel are transferred in and out all at once, then the station is moved to another system, so those who left have outdated information."

"Fuck!" She again slammed Rasa back against the bulkhead and used the momentum to step back, dropping onto the bed. Her hands came up to rub her face and she screamed into them. "All my actions and relationships and accomplishments… They're not mine. My only notable achievement is managing to avoid getting my head blown off straight out of the womb." She shook her head and corrected herself, "straight out of the…tank."

Rasa tugged and readjusted her uniform. "That doesn't make you any less valid," she told her. "The manner of your conception aside, you're every bit as Human as that other Shepard. You're flesh and blood, like everyone else."

"But I'm not though, am I? I'm an exact replica of the most famous war hero in the galaxy. I can't just walk into town and get a job like anyone else. I am, and always will be, shackled to that other Shepard out there, just a shadow."

"You don't have to be!" Rasa's plea dripped with passion. "You have the same life experience, the same memories, as Jane Shepard! There's nothing saying you can't be her."

Shepard chuckled, craning her neck to study Rasa. "Did you just suggest I kill myself and take her place?"

"Why not?"

"Because it sounds like a ridiculous sketch!" She sat up. "The best course of action is to turn myself in; whatever happens after that is out of my hands."

"Are you listening to yourself?" Rasa snapped, gesturing wildly. "Genetic manipulation is already on controversial ground after the Genophage, but to the vast majority of the galaxy, their last experience with clones was news of Saren's army of rampaging Krogan on Virmire! You chose to nuke the whole thing because of the implications, and that's exactly the way everyone else is going to see you!"

"Please, don't be so dramatic."

"Don't be so blind!"

"To what?"

"The fact you're nothing but an insanely expensive life-support machine!" Rasa ran her hands through her hair, panting, pacing. "You are an object, a tool to be used for the benefit of others with no rights and no life! The Illusive Man did that to you! You—the real you—will wake up from the Lazarus Project and go on to save the galaxy from the Reapers while you, had it not been for me, would've ended up in an incinerator somewhere, or worse! Open your eyes! You're not Commander Shepard, just some disposable copy!"

Shepard could barely keep up with the seemingly contradictory points Rasa was making. "Okay, I'm either Shepard or I'm not; make up your mind."

"As long as the other Shepard exists, you're nothing," she elaborated, slowly. "If you want to continue being you, the original will have to go. Otherwise, you need to make plans to be someone else. Two Shepard's cannot exist at once."

Couldn't they? Shepard wanted them to. Who else would be better equipped to save the galaxy from the Reapers than herself? She knew the real Shepard, and by extension their old crew, would accept her and fight to afford her the same rights and freedoms as anyone else. The issue was that the real Shepard was still dead, as far as she knew, and her crew purposely broken up to stop them banding together in situations like this. The political shitstorm alone would be too much to handle. After all, she'd barely escaped the ordeal with Saren without getting thrown in the brig. The alternative was to wait until her other self was revived and present a united front the Council couldn't ignore, but there was no telling how long it would be before they were both up and around.

"Listen," Rasa said, "I'm the only person in the galaxy right now that sees you as a Human being. The crew might cheer your arrival and fawn over your accomplishments, but not all of them are positive; they're all very aware of your…situation."

Shepard fidgeted with the delicate duvet pinched between her fingers, taking in the silky texture. It was surreal to think this was the first time she'd felt that specific sensation despite having memories to the contrary. "I don't blame them," she said. "I look down at myself ,or see myself in a reflection, or on a terminal and it's like I'm suffering a serious case of…I don't know—dissociation and dysphoria all at once, like this isn't my body. Technically, it isn't." Anger boiled in her chest. "This isn't my body because I'm not Human! Cerberus made me a cadaver! FUCK THEM!" She gathered up white-knuckled fists full of duvet cover and tore them with a piecing rip. She destroyed the rest of her bedding, and still it was as the erupting volcano went all the way to the core: unquenchable, infinite. It covered her mind in thick ash that blocked out the light and heat, and threatened to make her extinct.

"You have an opportunity few ever get." Rasa stepped up to the bottom of the bed, capturing Shepard's gaze with determination calcified in her eyes "A fresh start. Cerberus stole your identity, so you take it back! You take revenge on them! You become a better Jane Shepard than you were—better than the original you! Your body is brand-new, free from the remnants of old injuries, fortified against illness, fitted with state-of-the-art biotics, and augmented with an array of cybernetics.

The Illusive Man's obsession with bringing Shepard back to life exactly as she was and growing you exactly as she was will be his downfall! Get angry! Get pissed! No-one should have to deal with that kind of weight. It would break a lesser person, but Humans are stronger than that! We adapt, improvise, evolve! We are superior!"

Rasa started to loose Shepard at the end, but she was angry and agreed that The Illusive Man needed to pay for what he'd done to her. Anyone who so flippantly believed themselves worthy of resurrecting the dead was a danger to everyone in the galaxy. She thought back to the Cerberus labs she'd uncovered that were doing experiments on Rachni; it only solidified her resolve. As to whether they should do anything about the real Shepard, she didn't know. She had to do something about herself first.

"We deal with The Illusive Man," Shepard said. "Especially if he's indoctrinated."

"And what about the real you?"

"We leave her alone for now."

"She's gonna wake up event—"

"Leave her alone! I'm not in the business of killing myself to take my place, like some farce."

Rasa put up a stubborn front, but didn't openly push the issue. "When we get where we're going, we can rebrand all of this and put a plan in motion to hit Cerberus," she said. "Until then, just keep recovering."

"Where are we going?"

She seemed hesitant to tell her. "Arcturus."

"A-Arcturus? We're going to sail into the heart of the Systems Alliance in a Cerberus cruiser? Why?"

"Because we can hide there, where neither the Alliance nor Cerberus will think to look, and I know an old, disused facility there that will allow us to repair, refit, and rebrand."

"I hope you have a plan."

"Formulating one as we speak."

"If you need any help filling in the blanks, gimme a shout."

"That…" The words stuck in Rasa's throat. "…won't be necessary."

And Shepard caught on. "You're the one who rescued me and you don't trust me."

"Clone or not, you're still Commander Shepard, and that brings with it a lot of baggage."

"Would you have preferred if Cerberus skipped the part where they bothered to reconstruct my brain patterns in me as well?"

"I'm…not sure. Without your experience, you're just another Human being—worse if they didn't bother to give you anything at all and you came out with the mental age of a new-born. As frustrating as it could potentially be," Rasa admitted, "I think I prefer you as you."

Shepard's expression softened towards the former operative, and she smiled. "Thank you."

A hint of red teased Rasa's dark brown cheeks. "We'd have a real problem otherwise," she deflected with a chuckle. "Please, get some rest. It's been a stressful day and we've still got a while to go before we have to deal with the whole Arcturus situation."

"Actually"—Shepard swung her legs over the side of the bed and crossed to the bathroom, the fact that she'd been naked the whole time finally catching up with her—"I think I'm gonna take a shower, and head down to the mess for a bite to eat; care to join me?"

"I'm not sure that's entirely appropriate."

She stopped at the door and threw a sly smile back over her shoulder. "I was talking about food, so it seems the only one being inappropriate here is you."

Rasa glared back at her. "I'll have to decline then."

"Suit yourself."

Shepard heard the familiar sound of the door opening and closing as she turned on the water and stepped under its perfectly warm rainfall, savouring the way it worked tension from her muscles. A chill ran up her spin. Air leaking. Struggling. She couldn't find the breach. Gasping. She pounded on the bathroom wall. Hulking chunks of burning wreckage fell around her. A ship, giant, looming, like an asteroid with an engine rolled and turned and blasted off. Her hand found the temperature command and she cranked it up, the sudden, startling pain pulling her from the flashback. There was, she decided, someone she needed to see before food.

The infirmary was free of all but the most critically injured of crew. Nurses floated back and forth: checking charts, making notes, administering medication. Screams of the dying and injured, panicked shouts, professional chatter from when Shepard had first arrived were replaced by the gentle hum of the ship and rhythmic, pulsing tones of the medical equipment.

Shepard waved down the nearest Nurse. "Excuse me."

"What can I do for you, Commander?"

"Oh, uhm, it's just Shepard now."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Have you seen Doctor Banderas?"

"He left to get lunch about five minutes ago."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"I should go."

The Nurse bowed a head to her and went back to work. Shepard about-faced and exited back to the corridor, returning to the elevator and calling it. She mulled around for a moment. Regular ships chatter continued to quieten down as she passed by, attentions subverted as the crew clambered to get not-so-subtle glimpses at the famous Commander Shepard. It made her skin crawl.

The elevator tinged, doors slid apart, inviting her in. Commander Montez stood in the car, stick straight with a tablet held tight against her side. She glared at Shepard and stepped aside. The pair stood in silence, but the building tension wasn't lost on Shepard. She tried to ignore it for as long as she could, until she snapped and her finger shot out to yank the emergency stop lever. The car bucked as the locking system kicked in.

"What is it?" she asked. "You can only glare at someone for so long before they implode!"

Montez pushed herself off the wall and regained her composure. "I don't like you," she said flatly. "I…haven't yet made up my mind what to think about your status as a clone, so I'll put that aside for now. What I do know is that you retain all the memories and personality of your former self, and that makes you a threat to the survival of myself and my crew. Rasa seems to think this is a good idea, but I happen to think it's only a matter of time before you turn on us. You're the Systems Alliance golden girl, the first Human Spectre, saviour of the Citadel. You look down on everything I believe."

Shepard took in the person standing before her: brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, dark brown skin, an immaculately crease-free Cerberus uniform, and a posture like a rubber band drawn to breaking point. "I, uh, appreciate your candour…"

"Commander Montez."

"I appreciate your candour, Commander," she said, "but I'm still wrestling with matters of identity and where I fit in a universe that sees me as ostensibly obsolete. Arresting you, or any member of your crew, is the furthest thing from my mind right now. However, I feel compelled to return that same openness you've shown me; Cerberus and everything it stands for disgusts me. What you did to Admiral Kahoku and his marines is rancid! Any claims that you're some virtuous, well-meaning organisation looking out for the common Human is propogandist spew."

Montez flinched as Shepard got up in her face. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," Montez replied honestly. "Cerberus cells are kept strictly insulated in the event that one of more are discovered. I have only knowledge of the operations aboard this ship and the one cell I was assigned to previously."

"How convenient for your conscience. Before you accuse me of being a blind follower of the cause, take a moment to consider your own position."

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm not longer a part of Cerberus on account of their…recent manifesto."

"And I'm not longer a part of the Alliance or a Spectre."

Montez, beaten but too stubborn to show it, reached over and pressed the level back into its housing, closing it up again. They went back to standing in silence.

The mess hall was packed. Crew from every department, on and off duty, were seated at the six massive, long tables while yet more were lined up with trays in hand at the serving counter. The vast majority of outfits Shepard could see were duty fatigues followed medical/scientific tunics, with a sprinkling of casual. Her eyes scanned the room, but the visual clutter was still a bit much for her to sort through. She started down between two of the tables scanning faces, and drawing their attention like an electro magnet. Chatter faded to muted whispers. A tremor that forced her hands into clenched fists rumbled up her spine.

She found Banderas seated at the farthest end of one of the tables surrounded by a handful of others dressed in medical tunics, engaged in a loud debate about the application of omni-gel as a wound sealant in the absence of medi-gel—sort of like cauterising a wound in the absence of proper bandages.

She caught his eye. "Do you mind if I interrupt?"

"Not at all," he said cheerfully. "I'm sorry I can't offer you a seat."

"It's quite all right. I was wondering if we could talk?"

"Of course." Banderas took his tray and stepped backwards over the bench. "I'll see you all later; just keep up with your assignments if I'm not back by the time you're done."

The other members of the medical team threw back acknowledgements. He jerked his head towards a door in the far wall and Shepard followed him over to it—a janitors closet. The closest table was a couple of meters away; not private by any means, but as close to in the mess. Conversation had gradually ramped up once again.

Banderas balanced his tray on one hand and continued picking away at his lunch as they talked. "It's nice to see you up and about," he said. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intensely fascinated by you and the ordeal you went through to get here. I mean, it's kind of terrifying to think Cerberus has enough resources to bring you back to life—twice."

"So you do see me as a person?" Shepard wondered.

"Of course! You're no different from a pair of identical twins! Well, there are a few distinct differences: mainly that you're literally identical in genetic makeup, memories, and personality up until a short while ago. The fact that you were raised to maturity in a tank over a highly condensed timeframe is semantics. We're still not sure what long-term effects that could have on your body, but the question of your personhood is open and shut."

Shepard felt a lot less relieved by the medical diagnosis than she'd hoped. It was certainly nice to know that she was a person, real and fully formed, from a scientific perspective, and that there wasn't any suspect technology or space magic at work behind the scenes. None of that, however, helped allay the philosophical crises tearing through her head. "Maybe I would be better seeking out the ships chaplain for this one," she said.

"You're concerned about the…less tangible aspect of your personhood?"

She nodded.

"I'm afraid I can't much help you with that," he said, regretfully. "I highly doubt you're the only clone in the whole universe, but you're certainly a unique case when it comes to the Milky Way, and working out how to meet and diverge from who I guess is your sister now is something you need to determine for yourself."

"I guess expecting the easy answer was wishful thinking."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no; it's quite all right. You cleared up a lot of fears that I was some kind of freakish meat puppet."

"Even as a whole person, you could still be a meat puppet."

"I'd prefer to not think about that."

"Fair enough."

"Thanks for talking to me, Doctor."

"Anytime."

"I should go."

Shepard made for the exit. It was nice to know she wasn't going to wake up one day and find her arms missing because the hologram projector in her torso had broken down. Although, it was somewhat concerning to know she might wake up missing an arm because something had gone wrong with the cloning process; another for the list of reasons her mental state was currently held together with duct tape and well wishes.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter! It was a bit of a slower one after the opening couple and served to setup who this version of Shepard is, and contrast her way of thinking to Rasa's from last chapter. Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read my work!

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