#maya brooks x shepard clone

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 25 -- Breaking

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. // This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. // This Chapter.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: While this chapter is safe for all platforms, previous chapters have different versions. (The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

The Clone wakes up in a hospital bed. Wires and IV’s stick out from every visible angle and then some. She looks more like a hanar than a human--if hanar wrapped their dead in bandages. Trying to sit up, she only manages to set off an alarm before she screams in pain. One of her legs is in a sling, and a cast that runs from her thigh to her foot--she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

“We found you in an office building next to a shattered window.” She looks up to see a blonde man in a C-Sec uniform. “Mind telling us how you got there, Commander Shepard?”

Something about the way he’s sitting next to her, without a pistol or an omni-blade in his hand suggests he doesn’t know her real identity--if she ever had one.

“I fell.” She manages to say. Her throat is as dry as a bunch of rocks

“From where? The Normandy!?”

The Clone tries to nod, but that sends pain piercing through her skull. “Y-yeah.”

The officer starts taking notes on his omni-tool. “I heard it was quite the firefight. A clone!? What will the Illusive Man think of next?”

“It wasn’t Cerberus.” She should probably shut her mouth. Then again, she wasn’t supposed to survive that fall, so why bother trying to hide? Maybe if she’s lucky she can get him to shoot her in the head. “It was a separatist group.”

“I see.”

“Hey, Bailey! We got an issue down at the embassy. We need you to take care of it.”

Armando Bailey. One of the heads of C-Sec, or something. Commander? Captain? The Clone does her best to keep her heart rate low.

“Sorry, Shepard. Looks like I gotta go.”

“Don’t worry about it...Bailey.” The Clone shifts, trying to get comfortable. There is no getting comfortable like this. “Any idea how long I’m stuck here?”

“You’ll have to ask the doc. Catch you later, Shepard.”

Right on cue, the doctor catches the door, slipping inside. She’s a petite young woman with short hair and a thick Russian accent. “Good day, Commander Shepard. How are you feeling?”

“Like I picked a fight with a Reaper.”

“Mm. From the reports I’ve heard--it wouldn’t be the first time.” The doctor moves, checking her vitals. She chews her lip, glancing back at the Clone. “You’ve been here unconscious for nearly two days. You have multiple fractures and some internal bleeding, as well as a small concussion.” Fortunately, your spinal cord was not affected.”

“How long until I can check out?”

“You may check out any time you like--as soon as we can transfer you into Dr. Chakwa’s care.” The doctor’s gaze drifts to her right, and it’s then the Clone notices the handcuffs restraining her to the bed. Whoever the doctor is--she knows.

“I mean, how long until I recover?” Her heart rate spikes on the monitor.

“With your enhanced body, only a couple days of rest. Your armor protected you quite effectively in your fall.” The doctor makes a few notes on her clipboard. “Anything else I get you, Commander? More pain medicine, perhaps?” She says this with an edge in her voice. A threat.

“I’m starving, actually. Could you put in an order for me?” Looking directly at the doctor, she puts on the least threatening smile she can manage. “I can’t seem to access my omni-tool.” The doctor frowns, and the Clone smiles. She makes a point of ordering something highly specialized and complex, for dietary and religious reasons.

When the doctor finally leaves, the Clone breathes in and out, counting the seconds until her heart rate slows, and assesses her situation. She’s restrained, implying the hospital staff, or perhaps C-Sec (how much does Bailey know? Is he in on her arrest?) fears her leaving the room on her own. The doctor must have been exaggerating her need for rest, to keep her here long enough for the authorities to arrive--er, return.

Thinking of Brooks makes the Clone hurt in ways her injuries never could. At least her lessons aren’t all completely useless. Without speaking, the Clone rotates her right wrist left, then right, then left two times, activating Brooks’ hacking protocol. The cuff falls off, and she removes the other, biting her lip as her broken ribs protest. She takes out her IV’s next, along with the sensor pads monitoring her pulse and respiration. As the alarms begin to blare, the Clone stuffs disposable gloves into her mouth, and launches herself out of bed. Hopefully no one can hear her muffled scream over the sound of the alarms. No one rushes to her door. The hospital must be understaffed in the wake of the war.

The Clone feels sluggish, drugs probably, and the exhaustion that injuries and not eating for two days will do to a person. She braces herself on the rails of the bed until she can reach the doorknob. At the nurse’s station, she finds an empty wheel chair, and sits down, wheeling herself towards the exit. She nearly leaves, before realizing she’s only wearing a hospital gown. Where would there be an extra set of clothes handy? Break room.

There are multiple staff members on break inside, so the Clone pulls the fire alarm. She catches the door as the last one leaves, and she slips inside. In their haste, most of the employees left their personal belongings behind. A few hacked lockers later, the Clone finds some casual clothes in her size, and puts them on. The Clone slides back out and follows the crowd down the hallway, and towards the nearest emergency exit. While the staff and patients wait for the fire time to arrive, the Clone keeps walking.

Here comes the riskiest part--the Clone has no credits to her name (and doesn’t even have a name to tie them to), so she’s stuck using Shepard’s. To get a shuttle fast, she must use Shepard’s Spectre override. Easy--as long as Shepard hasn’t bothered to reinstate her biometric data.

The Clone waves her omni-tool over the terminal, holding her breath. Her implants report few exits, and high security if her plan fails. She feels the gaze of everyone watching her, whether they pay her any attention or not. Every second passes like an hour.

Then the light turns green. The Clone is dizzy with relief. She orders a shuttle as fast as she can.

Destination? The terminal inquires. It pulls up a map on her omni-tool.

Up until now, the only destination the Clone considered was off the Citadel. The terminal needs a more specific answer.

The Clone stares out the window, her mind spinning so fast she can’t do much other than watch the ships arrive and depart. She could go anywhere. No one would stop her. No one would argue with her.

With tears forming in her eyes, the Clone chooses her destination.

Within minutes, a small cargo ship with supplies and weapons arrives to pick her up and take her to Earth.

[mtreebeardiles]

Love confessions prompt for whomever you think it fits best! “I want to wake up next to you. Every morning.”

It's a fluff double feature! Here's some Shawn and Leigh for ya!

Also on AO3

The first time Shawn had ever woken up, it had been cold.

He'd been on an exam table, metal cool and unforgiving against too-hot skin. He knew things as abstract concepts, the neural implants and imprinting meaning he wasn't quite a blank slate. He knew what a weapon was, what it was used for; shields and armor, strategies and tactics. "Infiltrator," a skillset curated to quiet, to grace, to stealth. He knew what code was, how to manipulate it. Geth and Reapers and others, too, aliens, Collectors, Rachni, Krogan, Asari, Drell…

And in the midst of it, under the words, something more: names, faces, an undercurrent of something hot that made his heart pound, blood thrumming in his veins, muscles clenched tight.

He wouldn't understand concepts like hate, disdain, contempt, until Brooks modeled it for him and gave the feelings their names.

Her venom seeped into him, outlining the parameters, the mission, the goal. Learn, perfect, become. Another name, another face, identical to his own. A hero, Brooks told him, but heroes were only ever such in name and his name was as good as any.

Everett Shepard, she told him. That's who you'll be. A hand on his cheek, almost as cold as the table he'd woken on.

What else could he do but obey?

The wrongness wouldn't come until later, thoughts pressing against thoughts, a cacophony of confusion in his head. Do this, his imprints would say, always in Brooks's voice. No. Another voice, and he thought it may have been his own.

But who was he? And how would he have known better?

Irritation was a constant state, the conflict like barbs under his skin. Flinching, biting, resentful of this cage he could not see but knew was there. More people, soldiers, and he felt separate from them, marked by his differences -- his incompleteness. Brooks treated them like so much cannon fodder, and what could he do but follow her example? Her voice was so much harder to resist when she was standing in front of him, when she'd look at him like that, put her hand to his cheek like this, triggering a craving deep down that he couldn't explain, an overwhelming sense of right and wrong until his throat was tight with it.

Once you're him, it'll be different.

He wasn't so sure.

Once I'm him, I'll be gone forever.

But how could he be gone if there was nothing to lose?

Who was he?

The answer didn't come until later, much later, even after he'd given himself a name. It was less pulling the pieces together, less filling in the lines with the colors and textures of his experiences, and more an act of creation in and of itself. There was no puzzle, there were no lines: neural implants had given him a base, but it hadn't given him his personality. What was innate was difficult to determine, tendencies and habits influenced by his environment, but he knew enough, eventually, to determine which he wanted and which he did not. Less biting, more questions; less suspicion, more curiosity. Choices, Everett had said, are what matter. Feelings are one thing, but actions are another.

So he stopped snapping, and the hands offered in return were warm, soothing on his skin, the right shouting down the wrong until he found what he was looking for.

Shawn shifted on the bed, blankets pooling around his waist as he propped his head up on his hand, elbow braced against the mattress. His free hand quested forward, fingertips ghosting over skin warm with sleep and dappled in early morning sunlight. Scars and marks, tattoos curled with meaning, with history. The contrast of soft and firm, muscle earned carving definition, lines that made his veins sing and his heart beat at the beauty of them. The inhale and the exhale of each breath, expansion of lungs causing that chest to rise and fall and he rested his hand on it a moment, feeling it, feeling soft hair beneath his fingertips before they ventured lower. Abdomen to waist, waist to side, the curve encountered further back bringing to mind the hug of fabric from a certain pair of jeans and he was smiling at the memory.

A shift and his hand was moving again, tracing lines up and up until his fingertips brushed against the slow, sleepy smile that greeted him.

"Good morning," he murmured, warmth flooding his chest as Leigh pressed tender kisses to each fingertip.

"Good morning." Leigh stretched a little, resettling on his pillow, watching Shawn with eyes half-lidded. Shawn's smile widened and he continued his explorations, trailing along his jaw, his cheek, his nose. Brushed hair from his forehead before leaning in and seizing those lips with his own, slow, slow, slow.

Leigh's hands moved, cupping his cheeks, warm and right and perfect, and his heart was swelling with it.

"Mmm…"

Leigh smiled up at him as Shawn shifted, tugging the blankets down and straddling his hips. Leigh's hands moved to Shawn's in turn, thumbs running circles against his hipbones.

"What's on your mind, love?"

Shawn hummed, thinking, taking one of Leigh's hands and running his fingertips along each line, each scar, before following that same exploration with his lips.

What was on his mind? So many things. Sunlight on skin, the warmth of it, the warmth of him, of a body pressed to his, all the more special for the time he'd taken to become comfortable in his own. Becoming had seemed so terrifying, once, when it had meant what Brooks wanted, stepping into a life that did not belong to him, losing his fledgling sense of personhood to satisfy another's wants and needs.

But she was gone, and she had no power over him anymore. He was himself, and was becoming more and more himself every day, learning and loving and maybe, one day, forgiving. He was himself in spite of her best efforts, a person in his own right, capable of choosing, of wanting, of needing, of understanding himself so he could understand how best he fit with those around him.

Four years, he had spent on this journey. Four wonderful, confusing, enlightening years, to know he wanted this: a hand against his cheek, warm and loving, gestures he could return and revel in the rightness of them, of knowing the difference between a partner who supported him and let him support in turn versus a person who was trying to control him like a personal toy soldier. To know the difference between being and loving himself, of being loved as himself, and being a hollow shell for someone else to fill.

To know that he'd had to choose himself first, before he could begin choosing anything else.

"I was just thinking," he began, pressing a kiss to Leigh's palm, "that I want to wake up to you like this, every morning that I can."

Leigh's smile widened, his free hand trailing down Shawn's chest. Warm, right, a gesture of love profound in its simplicity, the easy connection of a gentle touch.

"I think that can be arranged."

[alienshepard]

for the fandom ask: Mass Effect lmao

damn that was really surprising, i would’ve never guessed :PP

-Character I first fell in love with:

Kaidan, duh

-Character I never expected to love as much as I do now:

Jacob & all the female characters because, y’know overcoming internalised misogyny

-Character everyone loves but I don’t:

Garrus lmao

-Character I love but everyone else hates:

Clone!Shepard, Maya Brooks, Khalisah and Ashley

-Character I used to love but don’t any longer:

I used to really love Conrad Verner as some kind of comic relief but now he just creeps me out because his obsession with fShepard hit a little too close to home for me

-Character I would kiss:

Dr. Michel (I wish you could’ve recruited her AND Chakwas)

-Character I want to slap:

Major Kyle and Harkin

-A pairing I love:

Shepard x Kaidan, Shepard x Jack, Shepard x Miranda, Khalisah x Emily, Sam x Diana and I’m kinda digging Clone!Shep and Brooks now lmao (I mean with a lot of work on their relationship lets be real)

-A pairing I hate:

Shocking I know, but Jack x Miranda

[n7initiative]

Mass Effect: Foundation

I have not been looking forward to this one. I’m gonna get this out of the way first thing and say: I do not like Mass Effect: Foundation very much. The story is a little too all over the place for my tastes personally. Is it a bad comic? No. It’s actually fairly good. However, there are a few aspects of it that I just do not like.

Mass Effect: Foundation is a thirteen issue long comic series focusing on Maya Brooks, how she came to work for Cerberus and how she eventually left Cerberus. Maya Brooks, or Rasa as she’s called here, is ARGUABLY the main character, however, the majority of the book is spent in flashbacks to other characters, themed as Rasa putting together the dossiers for the suicide mission, giving some backstory for them. We see flashbacks to Ashley, Kaidan, Thane, Miranda, Jacob, Jack, Mordin, Kasumi, and Zaeed. Each of these characters gets one whole issue (Miranda and Jacob get two, but they’re together so that’s about one each), with maybe a page or two of our main character at most. There’s also an entire issue dedicated to explaining how Rasa and Kai Leng were involved with Shepard meeting Wrex in the first game. 

All the flashback issues are really cool. We get the story of how Ashley’s squad got massacred by the Geth, Kaidan’s time in the biotic academy, how Thane met his wife, Jacob’s first Cerberus mission (with Miranda tagging along), Jack getting revenge of some doctors from her childhood, Mordin’s mission with STG for modifying the Genophage, Kasumi’s final burglary with Keiji, and Zaeed’s hijacking mission. They’re all fairly interesting. The problem with all of this is that it distracts from our main character, and as a result everything we learn about her feels sporadic and thread-bare. Out of thirteen issues, only four actually focus on Rasa herself, and in one of them she’s overshadowed by Wrex.

The parts focusing on Rasa show how she came to work for Cerberus, establish that she was assigned to compile the dossiers for Shepard’s suicide mission, was dissatisfied with this, and then abandoned Cerberus and stole Shepard’s clone in the process. Picking through the haystack for the needle establishes Rasa as an interesting character and a genuine threat for when she eventually makes her return in Mass Effect 3′s Citadel DLC, but the haystack has so much more substance outside of her story to make it feel inconsequential. Had the flashback been a part of Homeworlds instead, I believe this series would have been far better.

I could overlook that and still come out liking this series well enough had it not been for the art. OH BOY DO I HATE THE ART IN THIS SERIES. It’s that weird psuedo-3D style that looks computer generated and then traced. I don’t know if that’s actually how it was done, but it does not look good at all. Because the art compounds with what I think is a genuine story telling problem, I can’t bring myself to like this book very much at all. It has a lot of worth if you can take it issue by issue and ignore the art. I just can’t get past how the main character is only in one third of the story (issues 1, 2, 8, and 13 with a few sporadic appearances at the beginning of some issues) and the art.

Next time we’ll be going back to novels with Mass Effect: Ascension.

[x]

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 16 -- Champagne

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: While this chapter is safe for all platforms, previous chapters have different versions.(The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

They are so close. Maya Brooks and the Clone have spent the past weeks training the mercs, training with the mercs, and they’re ready. Over meals, the Clone and Brooks go over plans, strategies, potential obstacles and ways to work around them. Together they review Commander Jane Shepard’s history, her interviews, unauthorized biographies of her life, even security footage they’ve intercepted from C Sec. Shepard is a difficult woman to catch off guard. She’s never seen off ship without full armor and a squad to back her up--save for two places.  The Normandy they eliminate immediately--it would take too long to override the ship’s AI, and with Shepard and her crew on board, it would cost them more than time. However, when the Normandy docks at the Citadel, the crew parts ways, some to a few hours of shore leave, others for their non-Council duties, Alliance or no. In these hours, Shepard often heads off by herself, making a laughably predictable circuit of the Embassies, the Presidium, the docks, and the refugee camps, even a dance club called Purgatory. Now it’s only a matter of being ready the next time she stops by.

With the losses on Thessia, Shepard must be heading to the Citadel soon. She’ll have diplomatic meetings, hoards of refugees to visit (since she banned C-Sec from turning them away), and likely strong drinks to buy with her favorite Asari warlord. Brooks and the Clone deploy pockets of mercs to infiltrate the wards, some posing as refugees, others as off-duty soldiers, still others as private residents. With the recent coup, Cat6 has plenty of identities and weaknesses to exploit.

“So...what’s our next step?” The Clone leans her chin on Maya’s shoulder, getting on her tiptoes to do so.

Maya leans her head against the Clone’s. “I need to meet with a contact on the Citadel. We’ll need someone to smuggle in our arms if we have any chance of making it through security.”

“And then we arrive and wait for Shepard.”

“Mmhm.” Maya turns, running a finger up and down the Clone’s arm. It makes her shiver, but the Clone presses on.

“How are you going to signal?”

Brooks scrunches up her nose. “Through your omni-tool, of course. An encrypted message.”

The Clone fingers Brook’s collar. “How long should I wait before sending reinforcements?”

“You mean if I fail?” Maya snorts. “That won’t happen.”

That night the Clone had some of the mercs smuggle in a bottle of champagne (more like she seized their bottle of champagne upon entry, but they’re in her employ, so she feels she has a right to it), and she pops it open over dinner with Maya. Their rations are still barely edible, and they’re drinking out of regular glasses, but this is as close as they can get to a celebratory dinner, then she’ll take it. She even finds a couple emergency candle sticks for when the backup generators fail, and she lights them, using machine parts for holders.

“What’s all this?” Maya sits down, datapad still in hand.

Reaching over, the Clone grabs the datapad, and turns it off. “Things are going to get pretty crazy once we reach the Citadel.” She leans forward, pouring the champagne. “This might be our last chance to celebrate.”

Maya’s smile glimmers in the low light. “Funny, I had the same idea.”

The Clone blinks, watching as Maya pulls out a slim black box. A gold ribbon ties the layers together, the Clone fingers the bow, glancing at Maya.

“Go ahead. It’s a gift.”

Pulling the ribbon as if she’s disarming a bomb, the Clone gingerly lays it aside, lifting the top to reveal the contents inside. She gasps softly as the metallic sheen of a shotgun catches the candle light. She swallows, delicately taking it out of the box.

“It’s the M-11 Wraith--the same shotgun--”

“Shepard uses, I know.” The Clone interrupts softly, standing so she can test its feel in her hands. She pops open the ammunition chamber, running her finger over the ammunition block, closes it, then checks the next chamber for heat clips. She only finds two in the filled chamber. “Ballsy, giving me a loaded gun.” It’s a gun so deadly it’s banned in Citadel space, but that doesn’t stop mercs, pirates, and the infamous Commander herself from using it.

Maya smirks. “I know you’re not stupid enough to use it now.” It’s not quite trust, but it will do. “There’s more underneath.” Is she shifting in her chair? Brooks never squirms.

The Clone sets the gun down, lifting the next layer of the box and setting it aside. She eyes the last object in the box, quirking an eyebrow at the woman across from her. “You bought me a fake penis?”

Laughing softly, Maya reaches over, taking the Clone’s hand. “I know it’s been hard for you lately.” Her thumb brushes the back of her hand. “I wanted to show you how I appreciate the woman you’re becoming.”

“By buying me a dick.” The Clone laughs too, but she swallows at Maya’s touch. She knows where that touch leads, regardless of the awkwardness.

“You might like it.” Maya picks it up, managing to thrust it through a ring she makes with her finger and thumb.

They break down in fits of giggles together. The Clone squeezes her hand. “Thanks, I think.” As weird as it is it to get a gift from Maya, maybe it’s a good sign. Maybe she’s becoming a different person, too.

“It’s not the same as Asari biotics but it does vibrate.”

The Clone freezes, her gaze cold and hard as she says “Don’t.”

“I know.” Maya squeezes her hand. “I’m just trying to help.” She stands, heading for their bedroom alone. The Clone stares at the dildo for several minutes, and then she throws it back into the box, slamming the lid closed.

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 19 -- Armor

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: This chapter has two different versions.(The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

Bet you she hasn’t even told you her real name.

The message arrived in her omni tool late the night before, and the Clone tossed and turned for hours over it. For someone so high on the Cerberus food chain, Kai Leng sure can’t keep top-secret information to himself. Maybe the Illusive Man is losing his touch, if he can’t keep his personal lap-dog in line. No wonder Maya left.

But Maya isn’t her real name, is it? The Clone knew that already, knew ‘Maya Brooks’ is just another identity her partner forged to protect herself, protect both of them, really. For an arrogant idiot, Leng sure knows how to push her buttons.

I sent those mercs after her. Planned to have her sliced and diced in front of you, see what sort of reaction they’d get. Maybe you are more than spare parts.

The Clone is tired. Not just exhausted, weary, of being pulled in every direction. But she can’t help but entertain Leng’s offer.

Call me and I’ll tell you the truth. Won’t matter in the long run, anyway. Once Cerberus gets what it wants you’ll all be thrown in the vats.

He left an IP address. The Clone deleted the message, but it’s already imprinted on her brain, along with the numbers. She waits until Maya leaves her alone to put on her armor, and then she makes the call, using a scrambler to mask her camera like a one-way mirror.

At least partially Asian features sneer back at her, though his eyes are concealed by a mask. Cerberus tech, probably, though the Clone isn’t sure of the purpose beyond making him look like some comic book super villian. “Bout time you called me.”

“You have 60 seconds.” Maybe longer, if she can back trace the call.

“What is the name she’s using now? Brooks?” How would he know? Fear seizes her veins, and then the Clone remembers that the mercs would have likely passed on that information when they intercepted Maya. The Clone does her best to keep her face level.

“Brooks was an old friend of hers. One she shot to death before taking her ship. Bet she didn’t tell you that.” Leng is trying to get a rise out of her, and the Clone deliberately takes slow breaths to not shout.

“Rasa is the earliest name we have on record. Best we can tell that was the name she had at birth.”

“What’s your point?”

“You do realize she’s using you? That she’ll dispose of you like the rest when she’s done with you? You know it. She knows it. That’s why she won’t leave you alone.”

Leng smirks. “Bet you had to steal a moment by yourself to make this call, didn’t you? Nice armor, by the way.”

The Clone’s eyes widen before she can stop herself.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. We already have people on the inside. We already know your plan--and that you’ll fail.”

The Clone manages to snort. “You’re not even worth my time.” She disconnects the call. Asshole.

“Who were you talking to?” Maya steps up behind the Clone, eyeing them both in the reflection, as she wraps her arms around her.

“No one.” The Clone lays her hands on top of Maya’s...Rasa’s….She’s starting to get a headache. “I was...rehearsing. For when we take down Shepard.”

Maya leans her head against hers. “For when you take down the Cult of Shepard.” Her fingers fiddle with the ends of the Clone’s hair, brushing the baby smooth skin of the Clone’s jaw with her knuckles. “But that will come later.” She smirks into the mirror. “Right now, I need to peel this armor off of you piece by piece.”

Maya slides to the floor, breathing heavily. “Where’d you learn that?”

The Clone digs around for a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. She ignores the question, popping the cork and plopping down next to Maya instead. Pouring them both a glass, she hands one to her partner. “How are we playing this?”

“Mm?”

“With Shepard.”

Maya leans her head against the Clone’s shoulder. It’s as sexy as the time they just spent together. “Mm...I was thinking of presenting myself as some sort of Alliance operative--trying to save her from the mercs wanting to kill her.”

“This’ll be good. Do I get to watch?”

Sipping her wine, Maya replies. “Only from the security cam.”

“I get access to the com channel.”

“Only if you keep quiet.”

“Fine.” The Clone also takes a sip. Maybe more than a sip. Who’s going to stop her?

They sit in silence, polishing off their glasses and filling them again, until the bottle’s empty. “Mm. I need a background.” Maya eyes the bed thoughtfully. “What’s my role in the Alliance?”

The Clone snorts. “Probably a desk-minder.”

“Oo. yeah.” Maya licks her lips, giggling. “Staff analyst or some bullshit like that.”

“Names her hacking program after her cat.”

Maya snorts. “Something ridiculous.”

The Clone intends to point to well, emphasize her point, but falls into Maya’s lap instead. “Mr. Biscuits!” The s’s comes out slowly like a long, sluggish hiss.

“Oh god.” They both dissolve.

 Much later in the night, after she’s passed in and out of slumber, the Clone finds a question lingering at the edges of her mind. “Maya?” She’s sobering now, enough for the question to bother her, but she’s still tipsy enough to find the courage to ask it. “Where will we be after this is all over?”

Maya stirs, not bothering to open her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“After we take out Shepard, and the Reapers, then what?”

Maya, Rasa, whoever she is, looks at the Clone finally, sitting up against the pillows, the sheet falling down to her stomach. “I’m sure the galaxy will still have plenty of wrongs to right.”

The Clone nods, but she isn’t reassured. “I know that. I mean...us. Are we still...going to be together?”

Rasa reaches over, pushing the Clone’s copper locks out of her face. “Of course.”

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 17 -- Better

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: While this chapter is safe for all platforms, previous chapters have different versions.(The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

Also, we’re getting awfully close to the events of the Citadel DLC. Any thoughts on whether you’d prefer a retelling from the Clone’s perspective or a skip to the aftermath? Lemme know. :)

It’s been twelve hours, and the Clone hasn’t heard a single word from Brooks. She paces floor of the warehouse, knowing her partner went dark for good reason, but she still feels antsy. Negotiations shouldn’t keep Brooks this long, at least not out of contact. Should it matter? This could be the Clone’s chance to start her own life, but she also remembers what happened the last time she abandoned the plan. Going out on her own, with no one at her side? Sounds like hell. And she can’t leave things between them like they ended last night. What they have isn’t love, but whatever it is, the Clone doesn’t want to lose it.

At thirteen hours, the Clone calls the mercs to attention. They assemble on the floor, but they fail to quiet. First the Clone clears her throat. Then she shouts. Finally, when that fails to shut them up, she throws the nearest man into a singularity.

A hush falls over the room, as the mercs gape at not only her behavior, but her power. The Clone drops the man without paying attention to whether he breaks one bone, or five. “Now that I have your attention,” she pulls up an image of Brooks, casting it to the screen behind her, “Maya Brooks has not reported for duty for over twelve hours.” Swiping to a schematics map of the Citadel, she adds, “Your mission will be to find her, and bring her back, alive.”

One woman calls out from a few rows back, “How--”

The Clone raises a glowing hand.

“--Ma’am, how do we know she hasn’t gone rogue?” The woman shifts on her feet nervously. “She’s did it to Cerberus, didn’t she?” A fair notion. A notion the Clone does not entertain.

“Cerberus no longer aligned with her objective.”

Another merc calls out, “And we do? Ma’am?”

Doubt stabs the Clone in the gut. She ignores it. Maya wouldn’t go to all this trouble only to abandon them, would she? “Maya Brooks has one goal, and only one goal. To save humanity, at any cost.” The Clone highlights one of the overrun docks. “Hatchet will enter here.” She circles another. “Dagger here.” Making eye contact with the three mercs standing closest to the stage, she adds. “Razor Squad, you’re with me.

 Since they can’t smuggle in weapons without Brooks, the Clone has the mercs infiltrate the wards, armed only with omni-tools. She has the secondary squads cause a ruckus on the docs while Razor infiltrates Citadel-Security. Donning a wig and contacts, the Clone borrows one of Maya’s old identities: Captain Channing. It’s a risk, using one of her old names, but in this case, the risk might be exactly what she needs. Hacking into one of the terminals, the Clone grants Channing access to the room with the camera feeds, and she posts Razor in what she hopes are discreet positions outside the door.

Narrowing her search to the day and place Brooks arrived, the Clone speeds up the video until the moment Brooks takes a sky car from the docks. She trails the license plate and finds its flight path with that time signature, and follows it to a warehouse in the Zakera ward, one that has been out of use since 2185. Brooks leaves the car at the terminal, and heads inside. From their countless meetings over meals, the Clone knows the background, appearance, and personality of the contact Brooks intended to meet with--the person inside the warehouse isn’t them. A cold feeling settles in the Clone’s stomach. Someone set Brooks up.

“You’re not Jax.” Brooks reaches for her pistol, but it’s already too late.

“No. I’m not.”

The Clone watches in horror as the Asari, likely a commando from the way she uses her biotics, catches Brooks in a singularity and then reaves her until she’s unconscious. Swallowing hard, she speeds the video up again, watching as the mercs quickly tie her to a chair, and begin what looks like an interrogation. As awful as it is to watch, the Clone is relieved to know that the mercs want her alive. What for, she has no idea.

Using one of Brook’s credit lines, the Clone rents a sky car, and takes it to the warehouse with her squad. On the way, she summons Dagger squad to watch the perimeter, and has Hatchett watch their escape route in case more trouble shows up. The Clone stages two men from Dagger at the windows on the sides of the warehouse, ready to launch omni drones. She has Razor equip their omni blades.

One of the mercs from Dagger returns with schematics on the warehouse. While there is only one door, there are windows lining the sides. “Take out the windows in the back in 5 minutes. I’ll keep them busy.”

“Signal, Commander?”

It does thrill the Clone to hear that title. Maybe it suits her. “I’ll cough twice. How many?”

“They’re all inside. Half a dozen, Ma’am. Three are posted in the rear of the warehouse. The rest are around Brooks.”

Is Maya alright? The Clone wants to say, but she knows better. “Is Brooks alive?”

“Affirmative.”

“Deal with the ones in the back as you come in. Wait for my signal on the others. I only need one of them alive.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”

The Clone walks up to the door, and finds it unlocked. She knocks three times, and steps inside, letting Razor file in behind, blades aimed in front of them.

Brooks sits in a chair, still bound. Her nose is purple and dried blood trails down to her lip. She has other bruises on her head. As the Clone and her squad come in, Brooks’ eyes widen and she lifts her head. The Clone nods at her, and then looks at the kidnappers, mercs, probably, by the quality of their armor and the banned weapons in their hands. C-Sec really needs to step up its game. An Asari leads them, vanguard, by the amount of armor she’s wearing, and their leader, by the way the other kidnappers keep looking at her for direction.

The Asari aims her gun at the Clone, smirking.  “Put your weapon down, or I’ll shoot.”

The Clone’s hands glow with biotic energy. “Go ahead. I’ll fry you before you have a chance to re-target. What do you want?”

Raising an eyebrow, the Asari snorts. “A human biotic against an Asari Commando? Please.”

Racking her brain, the Clone throws out the first thing that comes to mind. “Nessa Tandros.” She’s not sure if it’s her or the implants doing the talking. “She runs a training facility in New Serrice. Heard of her?”

The commando’s eyes widen, and she pulls her finger off the trigger. Swinging the barrel of the gun away from the Clone, the Asari holds it up her other arm. “We got what we wanted.” Her goons do the same.

She’s stalling. Why? The implants flare up. Maya mouths at her, trap.

“You’re mercs, right?” Who hired you? The Clone lowers her hands. She can still use her biotics if she needs to. So can the Asari.

“You’ll find out soon enough. He’s on his way.” Shit.

Maya’s not sweating, must be dehydrated. Not good. The Clone sees her shoulders shifting--she must be hacking her own cuffs.

Over Maya’s shoulder, Dagger creeps up behind her and her kidnappers.

“Oh? How soon?” She does her best to keep her voice level, though the implants are blaring inside her skull DANGER DANGER DANGER. The Clone watches Dagger through her peripheral vision, counting beats in her head.

“Don’t worry. He won’t keep you waiting.”

Maya’s eyes narrow in recognition, and then she looks up at the Clone.

One breath. Two breaths. Three.

The Clone coughs twice, and biotically pulls the gun out of the commando’s hands, just as the mercs jerk in tandem, watching omniblades pierce their midsections. Brooks overloads the Asari’s shields and the Clone slams her to the ground, and fires the gun, making sure the commando stays there. She feels her amp heat up as she pushes her biotics to their limits, and she wills the energy to keep going, cooldown periods be damned.

With all the other mercs killed or disabled, the Clone walks over to their leader. The Asari commando’s shields are damaged beyond repair, and they crack and sizzle as they try to regenerate. One of her feet has been shot, and she sits on the floor, laughing--shock, probably.

Stopping within spitting distance, the Clone holds up her hand, channeling the dark energy around her into a reave. It only serves to make the commando laugh louder. The Clone shouts over her. “Who hired you?”

The Asari looks up at her gun, and she smiles. “We all know Shepard wouldn’t kill me.”

The Clone’s finger stays on the trigger, but she doesn’t pull. “She’d have you arrested, wouldn’t she?”

The Asari stars to nod. The Clone shoots her point blank. “I’m not Shepard.” She stays there, with her gun hanging at her side, watching numbly as the blood spurts from where the head used to be. Miasma fills her nostrils, and the Clone distantly realizes this is her first kill.  A person died at her hand. Shaking, the Clone’s thoughts run in a loop. She’s dead. I killed her. She’s dead. I killed her. She’s dead--

A hand lands on her shoulder and the Clone nearly launches the owner of that hand across the room. “You’re right.” The hand belongs to Brooks. The Clone deflates, and she feels tears forming in her eyes. But she doesn’t feel anything behind that wetness. Maybe she really isn’t human after all. “You’re not Shepard.” Maya turns her, pulling her into a hard kiss, marking herself with the blood spatter on the Clone’s lips. “You’re better.”

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 20 -- Plans

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: This chapter has two different versions.(The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

They split off, each with half their company. Maya borrows a uniform from a low-ranking officer on shore leave, who just so happened to have a stupidly simple password on her locker rental. The Clone hacks both Lt. Cmdr Jane Shepard’s and Flight Lt. Jeff Moreau’s emails, planning a lunch at an exclusive sushi bar for both of them. Neither will be able to turn down such an offer from one of their closest friends. Cat6’s plan is simple: drive Shepard away from Joker, and into the surrounding ward, towards the skylot so they can get her spectre access code, and then finish her off. Posing as the manager for the apartments in that ward, the Clone contracts a construction company to install new heating and cooling units, and she pays them a stupidly high bonus to do it immediately.

Maya also sets up a meeting with infamous casino baron Elijah Kahn. He insists on meeting them both in person, so Brooks pulls up a scattered video on her omni tool once she sits down in his office.

Kahn frowns. “This isn’t what we agreed to, and you know it.”

 “My employer has agreed to compensate you for the inconvenience.”

Khan stands. “I’m calling security. You can tell your “boss” that I’m not int--”

Brooks doesn’t stand. She merely looks up at him. “We’ll double our payment.”

The Clone is supposed to wait until Maya introducers her properly, but she can’t help put add, “You’re hosting a charity gala soon, aren’t you?”

Kahn’s hand hesitates as he reaches for his haptic interface. “What about it?”

“I bet you won’t have the best showing in the middle of the war.”

“I have a full house of confirmed guests.”

Maya shifts her gaze, picking up where the Clone left off. “But they won’t be opening up their credit accounts like they did three years ago, will they?”

“Silver Coast Charity Gala Washed Away By the Reaper Invasion--what a depressing headline.” The Clone smirks, but the scatter program masks it.

“Fine.” Kahn sits with a sigh. “What can I help you with?”

Maya lists off the guns, mechs, attack drones, even a few Atlases. Kahn’s eyes widen, and he names his price. They double it, as promised. It won’t matter that its far more credits than they possess. Once they have Shepard’s identity, they’ll just blow Kahn’s cover and have him arrested. If he so much as squeaks, they’ll have him die in prison--one freak accident or another.

 The Clone stands in front of the men of Cat6, feeling like she’s still asleep in bed, in the midst of a fever dream. Maya stands by her side, wearing the stolen uniform, and her usual smirk. In just a few short hours, the Commander Jane Shepard’s title, rank, access codes, even her ship will belong to her Clone. All of them have worked so hard for this, and soon it will all pay off.

After a deep breath, the Clone faces her men and clears her throat. “Our mission is simple.”

The mercs stare back at her, their masks hiding their expressions.

“Brooks will infiltrate Ryuusei’s, posing as a staff analyst for the Alliance. She’ll warn Shepard of your plans to kill her and steal her identity so be ready for a fight.”

One of the men standing in the front coughs. “But the bouncers check guns at the door, don’t they?”

The Clone deliberately flares her biotics, and the merc steps back. “Don’t  underestimate Shepard.”

Brooks nods. “We’re sending in a dozen of you. The bouncers will have to stand down.”

Folding her arms behind her back in a very Shepard-esque fashion, the Clone paces from one end of the line to the other. “You will force Shepard back towards the fish tank, and you will fire until she falls through. Shatter the damn thing until she goes falling into the ward. Brooks will guide her to Cision Motors, where Shepard will have to use her access code to override security.” The Clone turns to face them, the thrill of their plans finally becoming a reality racing down her spine. “Brooks will send a shuttle to pick Shepard up. You’ll be inside waiting to take her out.”

Another merc, this one standing towards the back. “But what will we do once we get inside the sushi place?”

The Clone glances at Maya, and smirks back at them. “Give them a good show.”

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 18 -- Rational vs. Emotional

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

Buy Melody a Coffee: here.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: While this chapter is safe for all platforms, previous chapters have different versions.(The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

On the shuttle, the Clone realizes some of the blood on Brooks is Brook’s own blood--especially after the ebony woman deflates in her chair. Fuck fuck fuck. Had she been bleeding this whole time?

“Commander?”

The Clone is too busy wracking her own brain for first aid. Her implants, again, prove unhelpful. She starts an extranet search on her omni tool, pulling up the first result--

“Ma’am?”

“What!?”

The merc slams into the wall, making a small noise as the wind is knocked out of her. She winces, taking several seconds to get her breath back. “We uh, we found out who hired the commandos.”

The Clone kneels in front of Maya, applying medi gel generously. Probably a little too generously. Maya smiles at her lazily, her eyes glazing over. Shit. Fucking hell. English words don’t serve well enough, so the Clone swears under her breath in old Asari--some words Dreya taught her for shits and giggles. “Find them and eliminate them.”

“It’s Kai Leng, ma’am.”

Maya sucks in a sharp breath, and her eyes focus.

“I don’t know who that--”

Maya snarls. “It’s The Illusive Man’s second in command, now that Lawson has defected.” She hisses as the wound starts to re-open.

“Shut up.” The Clone presses the medi-gel patch tighter against the wound, trying to stay calm. Her implants supply information on Leng and his recent exploits. “Thought he was busy with Shepard.”

“That’s why he hired outside help.” Maya manages to say between shallow breaths. “Cocky bastard usually does his own dirty work.”

“I told you to shut. Up.”

Maya hums. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

The Clone rolls her eyes. “You’re delirious.” She turns to the pilot. “How long until we get back to base?”

“We’re rendezvousing with the ship in 10 minutes. 10 Galactic Standard Hours from there, ma’am.” The pilot looks over his shoulder briefly between typing in commands.

Most space vessels have medical bays. The Clone sags with relief, and then realizes how long ten hours can be when the woman you lo--care about is bleeding out all over you. They really should have kept a doctor. Then again…

Turning to Dagger squad, the Clone nods. “Get me a doc out of one of the med clinics.. Someone who just got off their shift.”

“Yes ma’am.”

 “You can’t keep me here!” The doctor currently sits in a chair, with three guns trained on him. ‘Sitting’ might be the wrong word. He’s squirming and shaking. Honestly, the Clone is surprised the doctor hasn’t pissed his pants.

“What was your name, Doctor?”

“Graham Johansson.” A bead of sweat slips down his forehead.

“Well, Doctor Johansson, we don’t plan on keeping you here any longer than necessary.” The Clone steps aside, revealing Maya, now unconscious, on a gurney. “Whether you leave here on your feet or in a body bag is up to you.” She really hopes the doctor takes the first option. Her ears are still ringing from—from the last gunshot she made.

Doctor Johansson stares at the gurney, or perhaps through it. The Clone kicks his ankle. He stumbles towards Maya, stuttering. “I’ll need--”

“These are yours, are they not?” The Clone nods at one of her mercs, and he hands the doctor a large bag.

Johansson nods.

“Then get to work. If she dies. You die. Got it?”

“Y-yes.”

“I’ll leave a couple of my men here to keep you company. See you soon.”

 Later, when Brooks has stabilized, the Clone has the mercs escort the doctor to the restroom, then holding. She sits down beside the bed, watching Maya breathe in and out. The color is coming back to her face, slowly, but surely, and her breaths seem less shallow. Now she just needs time. Idly, the Clone wonders how much time they have left.

Maya shifts and her eyes open as she yawns. She lazily eyes the Clone. Half smiling, she mumbles, “You’re always watching me sleep.”

The words tumble out of her mouth, warmer than usual. Medigel, the Clone realizes. It must not have worn off yet. “I’m not doing this without you.”

Nudging herself to the edge of the cot, Maya pats the empty space next to her. “You could do it without me, you know.”

The Clone shakes her head, gently maneuvering Maya to the front of the cot, and sliding in behind her, so that her partner’s back is resting on her chest. “What makes you say that?” She wonders how much of this Maya will remember later.

Maya leans her head back, nuzzling the Clone’s nose with her own, and she feels her heart skip a beat or two. “You’re stronger than her. More capable. More determined.”

Winding her fingers between Maya’s, the Clone chuckles. “For someone high on medigel, you sure give a good speech.”

Squeezing her hand weakly, Maya argues, “I mean it.” Her eyes, still a little glassy, search the Clone’s. “Sometimes I wonder why you keep me around.”

Something dark and cold pools in the Clone’s stomach. She knows this is dangerous territory, because she’s been here before. Even delirious, Maya can probably see through her best lie. “You mean something to me, Maya.” The Clone swallows hard. “Despite everything.”

Maya’s gaze drifts across the room, as she traces the Clone’s hand with her thumb. “Sometimes I wonder what it’s like.”

“What?” The Clone watches her, letting her fingers skim the exposed part of Maya’s thigh.

“Caring about someone else. Liking them. Loving them, even.” She frowns comically, as if faced with a mathematical formula she can’t solve. “What you had with Dreya--that was real, wasn’t it?”

Shifting in the cot, the Clone answers quietly. “I think so.”

“At Cerberus, we had psychological training--how to determine the strategy of your enemy by identifying their wants and needs. I always struggled with that.” She leans her head against the Clone’s. “I lied my way through those evaluations, using logic and reason to pull myself through.” She sounds almost angry as she says it. “But humans aren’t rational creatures, are they?”

The Clone presses her lips into Maya’s hair. “I doubt most sentient beings are.”

Maya sits up sluggishly, so that their lips are centimeters from each other, “Are you?”

“Emotional? Empathetic?” Biting her lip, the Clone leans in for a kiss. “More than you.”

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 24 -- The Fall

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. // This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. //  This Chapter.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: While this chapter is safe for all platforms, previous chapters have different versions. (The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

Falling from the Normandy, the Clone feels weightless, the Citadel surface rushing to meet her, the endless blaring of her implants, and the pain in her ears. It takes her longer to meet the ground than she expects. Her chest aches--heavier than the rest of her body. Maybe it’s the air resistance, maybe it’s the disappointment in Maya’s face as she walked away. Finally, finally, the Clone sees clearly, for the first time. She only wishes she had seen it sooner.

 “I know you’re not Shepard.” The voice calls from seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once.

The Clone freezes just past the airlock. She spins around, just in time to see the door’s green light turn red. “The hell--?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Somehow the Alliance kept Cerberus’s old A.I.”

“Not for long.” The Clone slams the elevator open, heading for the A.I. Core. Strangely, it doesn’t try to stop her.

“You know you can’t shut me off without shutting down the Normandy.”

The Clone walks through the medical bay, ignoring the A.I. until she’s standing in front of its mainframe. “I won’t have to.” She opens her omni-tool, bypassing the security system, creating a feedback loop.

“Commander, what are you doing?” The petite, ebony-skinned woman eyes her from the bulkhead, just past the door. Who the hell is this?

“Just who do you think you are?” The Clone rears on her and is about to push her against the wall when she sees the woman’s gaze drop to her chest. Aha.

“Ma’am...as the Normandy’s Com Specialist, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to--”

“Are you questioning my command, Com Specialist?” She narrows her eyes, leaning so close she can almost kiss her.

The Com Specialist reddens, and her breathing quickens. “N-no, not at all.” This is all too easy.

The Clone eyes her lips slowly, making sure she notices. She turns her head, leaning to whisper in her ear. “I see you eyeing me like a piece of meat.” Jerking back, she snarls. “Get off my ship.”

“Sorry?”

“Dishonorable discharge.” The Clone practically spits, watching as the other woman’s eyes widen. “Conduct unbecoming. Now go before I throw you off myself.”

 The A.I. wasn’t the only one to see through her. All the night’s practicing Shepard’s tone and cadence. All the mornings spent mimicking her gait and her gestures. All the afternoons memorizing Shepard’s story. All of it and she’s still just a fucking copy. A mistake. Maya knew better, even as the operative tried to convince herself otherwise.

 Maya presses the Clone against the bulkhead, also pressing her lips against hers. The Clone kisses back, but her mind keeps wandering. This cabin doesn’t feel like their room back on Pragia. Even as she slides a hand down Maya’s chest, her partner notices her tension.

“What is it now?” Maya groans, tightening her grip.

The Clone pulls back. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Maya frowns. “What doesn’t?”

The Clone gestures around, shaking her head. “This--room. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine. Even now.”

“Then make it yours.” Brooks practically snarls as she marches over to Shep--the dead woman’s desk, sweeping all her mugs and books into the trash can beneath. The Clone jumps at the noise. Then Brooks moves to the hamster cage and raises her hand.

“Wait!”

“What?” Brooks snaps. Maybe it’s her time under cover. Maybe it’s the strain of constantly changing their plans--The Clone hasn’t seen Maya this angry since they left Hayeiana.

The Clone steps between her and the hamster. “I’ll take care of it.”  Brooks looks like she’s about ready to throw her into the trash--so she raises her voice and stands up straighter. “You clear out that display case.”

While Maya is busy, the Clone escorts the hamster and its cage to the CIC herself, setting gently it on top of the trash bin. She appropriates one of the former Commander’s datapads and writes a note.

Please send this to an animal shelter for proper disposal as a warship is not an appropriate place for a pet.

 And how exactly is a six-month year old clone supposed to compete with a legend? She didn’t grow up on the streets of Vancouver. She didn’t lose her entire squad to thresher maws on Akuze. She certainly didn’t save the galaxy from an indoctrinated Spectre and his army of Geth heretics. She never died.

What was it like? Dying? How long did Jane Shepard suffocate above Alchera before her heart and mind finally quit? Did time stretch out for her like it’s stretching for her Clone? Did the pain even register after two years spent in nothing?

 The Normandy takes off, and not a moment too soon. With that com specialist running loose, it’s only a matter of time before the Alliance finds them out. Hopefully, with Earth saved, they won’t care who exactly is flying the Normandy anymore.

Stopping in front of the flight map, the Clone rests her hands on the rails. Maya stops next to her, folding her arms expectantly. Where to now? She’s about to set the coordinates for Earth when yet another person interrupts her.

“Ma’am, just before takeoff, Normandy registered a perimeter access alert. One of the security hatches.”

Damnit. “Her.” Why won’t she stay dead? “Where?”

“Unknown. When we shut down the A.I. we disabled a lot of security systems. Shepard could be anywhere on the ship.”

The Clone spins around, jabbing a finger into the merc’s chest. “Shepard is standing right in front of you. Are we clear?”

Maya hops down from the nav panel, a daring smile on her face. “It’s better this way. Wouldn’t you rather take her down yourself?” She eyes her as she passes by, as if to say. Deliver on what you promised me.

“Armory. Find her! Slow her down.” She moves to the elevator, first to the cabin to grab some unused armor, and then to the shuttle bay to plan her next trap.

 Did it hurt coming back? Is Shepard even the same person after death and resurrection? The Clone supposes it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to spend a single credit bringing her back. Not when they can just make another clone.

 The elevator opens, and the Clone hears three pairs of footsteps. Her implants label them as belonging to a pair of humans and a krogan. Shepard’s nothing if predictable.

Stepping out from behind a stack of crates the Clone meets the original for the third time.

“Well, that’s creepy.” Shepard raises her gun, narrows her eyes, and fires.

Diving behind a different stack, the Clone fires back. “You want to stop shooting up my ship?

“It’s not your ship.” Shepard snaps.

“It will be. I’ve taken your name, your Spectre rank, even your fingerprints.”

“And then you left me to die. Only I didn’t. “ Shepard closes in. “You think fake fingerprints are going to fool the Council? Or Hacket??” The Clone sneaks around the other side, looking to stab her in the back. “How’s that big plan looking now?”

The Clone strikes. Shepard catches her in a bind just before her blade can make contact. Damnit. Commando training didn’t cover swordplay. Apparently, neither did N7. They push at each other, each throwing in their equal strength into the bind, only to stumble backward when their blades protest.

Brooks provides cover while the Clone distances herself from Shepard. “Hatchett squad to the shuttle bay.”

 Did Shepard want to live when she was dying over Alchera? If she was given the choice--the Clone knows absolutely that Cerberus did not offer Shepard a choice--would Shepard choose to live again? With the way her and Alenko look at each other, maybe she would.

The Clone wonders what it would be like if Maya looked at her like that. The way Dreya would if she had lived long enough.

 The Clone is starting to run low on medigel. She takes breaks to restore her shields before charging Shepard again. Just when she’s flaring up, the Normandy swerves, knocking her into yet another pile of crates. Landing on the ground, and bracing herself against the stack, she opens her com directly to the pilot. “What the hell is going on up there? Get us out of the nebula and jump to FTL”

“Can’t.” The pilot grumbles in answer.  “A skycar keeps blocking our path.” For fuck’s sake.

“Then shoot it.”

The pilot doesn’t answer, and the Normandy ducks and weaves several more times, without jumping.

“Dammit.” The Clone practically shouts.  “Launch the shuttle and blow that thing out of the sky!”

 The Clone knew it was over the moment Maya walked away. Until then, she had always secretly hoped Maya, Rasa, Hope, whoever she was, would change. That somewhere in that polished exterior of hers, she had a heart still beating. Maybe Cerberus replaces the hearts of their operatives with batteries. Though, with the way Leng talked, Rasa never had one.

Shepard knocks her to the floor and they roll to the edge. Before the Clone can cant her hips, Shepard socks her in the face twice. The Clone feels those punches all the way down to her shoulders. She sees stars as she kicks Shepard off. Everything spins around her--is it her head or is it the Normandy?  Maybe it’s both. The Normandy swerves, and they both slip to the edge.

The Clone holds on for dear life. “Look at you. What makes you so damn special?” She snarls.  “Why you and not me?”

“Hang on!” Right on cue, Shepard’s squad carefully makes their way to the ramp to pull Shepard back. Wrex holds onto Kaidan’s ankles as he crawls to the edge to take Shepard’s hand.

“We got you!” Kaidan pulls her up, and Wrex pulls them both back into the safety of the shuttle bay.  

Shepard laughs.  “Thanks.”

The Clone looks for Brooks, and she’s standing in the distance, barely visible in the shadows. She shakes her head and turns away. Something inside the Clone breaks--like the explosion of a star. She’s out in space--without any gravity to hold her in.

Wrex says something, but the Clone doesn’t hear it. There’s no sound in a vacuum.

Shepard kneels, smiling at the Clone since the first time they met. “Here. Take my hand.”

There’s no oxygen in a vacuum either. The Clone can barely spit her words out. “And then?”

Shepard gapes at her as she waves her hand. Take my hand, dumbass-- she seems to say. “And then you live!”

“For what?” And the Clone lets go.

[forlornmelody]

Spare Parts Chapter 23 -- To Kill A Legend

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. Previous Chapter. This Chapter.

Summary:  Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: While this chapter is safe for all platforms, previous chapters have different versions. (The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

The Clone has her omni-tool scan for the biometric database, but with an archive serving entire Council Space is too huge to scan in a few hours, let alone minutes. So she goes on foot, heading to the deepest levels, with Shepard and her team on her heels. She lets Cat6 handle them. It doesn’t matter how many of her mercs fall as long as she doesn’t have to kill anyone today.

Sometimes the Clone stops at a terminal to see if the Council computers will find the information faster than she can.  Liara’s drone finds her just as she’s started the hacking protocol.

“The other Shepard--Commander Shepard--asked me to come find you.”

Of all the things that happened today, this is the least absurd, so the Clone humors it. “Let me guess. So she and her “friends” can come and kill me.” She doesn’t bother looking up from the terminal screen.

“She did not specify.”

“Well, drone, I wish to be left alone. So leave me alone.”

“As you wish.” And it slinks away, just like that.

If only all her battles were so easy.

 Of course, the drone returns later, and the Clone gives it a threat to deliver to Shepard. Anything to get it off her back. She needs more time. The Clone always needs more time. It’s only when she hears Brooks yelling about being shot on the com that she changes direction.

To her credit, Brooks is still lying prone on the floor when the Clone finds her. She’s holding her side as if covering a wound, but when the Clone kneels beside her, Maya’s hand pulls away to reveal untouched armor. Maybe a few scratches from falling on the floor.

“You should have been an actress.” The Clone grins down at her, offering her a hand.

Maya takes it, squeezing her hand as she stands up. “So should you.” She leans closer, almost as if to give her a kiss. “You’ve convinced everyone you’re a cold-blooded killer, a real threat, and yet you haven’t fired a single shot since you got here.”

The Clone gives her a pointed look. “I have more important things to do right now.”

“Of course.” Maya does not look convinced.

“Shepard dies today. I won’t let you down.”

“Oh? Do you have a different plan? Because so far none of yours have worked.”

The Clone glares at her. “They were also your ideas.”

“Doesn’t matter. As long as she’s alive, our plan fails.”

Ah. There it is. “I do happen to have a different plan.” The Clone bumps Maya’s arm with her elbow.  “Follow me.”

 “We’re being cut off!” Brooks calls out, stepping just past the vault.

Shepard doesn’t walk into the trap--she practically charges, Kaidan and Wrex following right behind. The Clone seals them in, breathing a soft sigh of relief. She looks at Brooks pointedly. See? Not a single shot fired and they’re dead anyway. Brooks, still in character, says nothing.

“This can’t be good.” The way Kaidan backs into Shepard is almost comical.

Shepard can’t see her standing in the shadows, so she calls out to Maya. “Brooks! The vault sealed us in.”

“Is there an override?” Wrex barely fits inside the vault at his height.

Kaidan looks, seeing them surrounded on all sides by the stasis field. “Not seeing one.”

Shepard’s voice rises, through the Clone can tell she’s trying to remain calm. “Cortez! Brooks! Do you read me? Is anyone on this frequency?” It’s strange to see her so...human? The Clone isn’t sure how she feels about this. Here goes nothing.

The Clone steps back into the light. “The short answer is no. They’re not.” Shepard’s coms haven’t been blocked, per say, but they have been rerouted to a new channel. Easy to hide when she’s not actively using them. Shepard shoots the barrier, and her shots are vaporized by the field. “The longer answer involves your friends trapped in iridium vaults and forgotten for, well, forever.”

Shepard reels on her, and would probably punch her sky-high given the chance. “Others know about this. About you. The Alliance will stop you.” The Cone’s blood flashes hot, then cold.

“What do you think, Staff Analyst Brooks?” The Clone looks behind her, winking where Shepard and the others can’t see.  “Will the Alliance stop us?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t actually work for them.” Brooks steps up beside her, and she’s a sight to behold. That blue armor suits her, especially when she’s not pretending. At least, the Clone thinks she’s not pretending.

“Who the hell are you!?” Shepard shouts at Brooks, practically pulling out her hair. All their efforts to rattle her are finally working. The Clone should be pleased, and yet…. “And do you really think I won’t track you down?”

“My name doesn’t matter. I never keep the same one for more than a few days. And if the Illusive Man hasn’t found me yet, you never will.”

“You’re Cerberus!?” Shepard’s eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. Oh, right. She always did hate Cerberus, didn’t she?

“Was. Mr. Illusive and I didn’t see eye to eye. He’s indoctrinated. Whereas I prefer the whispers in my head to be my own.”

“Why not come to me?” She looks...hurt? Why? “We could have worked together.” The Clone can’t ever imagine that happening. Not in this lifetime.

“In a way we did. I’m the one who put together all the dossiers on your suicide mission.”

“The Collector base!?”

“There was the Salarian doctor. The Asari justicar. The Drell. They were all mistakes. We were a pro-human group who started looking to aliens for help. So I bided my time, and when I found another you who agreed,  I woke her up.” The Clone doesn’t argue, and does her best to shove Dreya, Tandros, and her classmates to the dark corners of her brain.

“What was the point of it all?”

“All we wanted was your Spectre code. But then you survived the hit.” Maya retells their story from their point of view.  Shepard and her friends listen, shock and disgust on their faces. “And here we are, forced to contain the situation.”

Shepard hardens, finally. “Fair warning. No one who’s betrayed us has ever survived.”

“And yet they keep trying.” Wrex sighs.

“You two may think you're clever. And you were, just a bit. But clever doesn't beat a bullet. And yeah, maybe I am trapped in here, but don’t get comfortable. Because that bullseye on your back is getting bigger by the second.” Cute. Words won’t free her.

“That sounds very dramatic.  And if someone, like, say Commander Shepard made the threat, I’d be worried.” Maya eyes the Clone, and she shivers under her gaze. “But you’re not Shepard, not anymore.”

“You had Miranda, I have her. Mine has more bite.” In more ways than one.

“It was fun while it lasted.” Maya sighs, and the Clone walks over to the nearest terminal. It’s the one she’d been searching for this entire time. Perfect that an empty vault stands next to it. Perfect that she doesn’t have kill Shepard directly. No blood. No guilt, right?

“What are you doing?”

“Setting things right.” The Clone pulls up the recording. “Remember this?” She hits play.

“You’re the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species.”

“Except somewhere along the way, You forgot about your entire species. You saved more alien lives than you have human.” The words sound strange coming out of her mouth, but she can feel Maya watching her. She has to convince Maya. She has to convince herself. The way Shepard’s crew looks at their commander--

“I don’t care what species they are. Every life counts. But maybe a clone wouldn't understand that.”

Aww, she’s trying to push my buttons. The Clone chuckles “You know the one thing they can’t duplicate? Our handprint. Life gives it its shape, not DNA--which is a problem.” She looks down, raising her voice.  “Computer: Update Council records. Subject, Jane Shepard. Human Spectre.”

“Accessing record….Please input new data.” The interface presents her a circle, and the Clone holds her breath as she presses her hand against it. “Biometric identifier updated. Good day, Commander Shepard.” The room spins as she turns back to Shepard--the former Shepard.

“Now if you'll excuse me, the Normandy needs its captain.” She smirks, making eye contact with the woman who used to have her name. “So uh...I should go.”

Her victim reels as if she’s just been slapped in the face. Maybe she has.

Maya turns after her. “Farewell, Commander. I guess this is where legends go to die.” The vault seals itself behind them, and Maya pulls the Clone into a kiss. “Good work.” She bites her lip, and the way her gaze travels up and down her body makes something hot coil in her belly. “Now, let’s go get you settled into your cabin, Commander Shepard.”