Alone.

Nothing to do but sit in this stark, white ... unnatural place and think. And think. And think.

That and try not to notice how nothing, not her person nor the weapon at her side, cast a shadow on the floor. A floor that must exist, because she stood upon it. And walls, too, for she could rest her palms against them. Featureless. Flat. Without temperature or texture. With no distinction between floor or wall, except the seamed transitions only her fingers could find. Invisible corners.

Her chest rose and fell, but did air even fill this space? She tapped the cold barrel of her pistol against her lip and pushed the rising anxiety and fear away. It didn't go far. It never did. Madness tickled at the back of her mind and yet she'd denied its siren song of solace this long. It could wait a little while longer.

Screaming didn't help. No sound carried in the dead non-air here.

She sat on the imperceptible floor and leaned against the indiscernible wall and turned her mind elsewhere.

To the ... Out There.

Out There, she'd be running and fighting for her life. Out There, beloved companions stood at her flanks. Out There, she was Commander Shepard, saving a whole galaxy from a machine race; tyrants-turned-gods.

Nothing she did Out There could be controlled by her own hand, every word scripted, but she felt the triumphs, the pride, and the pains all the same. Every wound, every blow landed on her flesh, bled her blood. How could she help but feel that it really was her life, her story?

That is ... until whoever pulled her strings got tired of playing with her. Then they always put her back in this horrible toybox.

Her hand fondled the insignia on her breastplate as she pondered. How many times now? How many playthroughs? How many missions? How many ... deaths and rebirths until the User had enough? Got bored and deleted this profile? Deleted her?

What if they never did?

Would she be stuck in this limbo forever and ever and ever?

Why won't the walls turn blue-black already? Where was the Word to light the walls around her in a blinking, 'Loading ... Loading ... Loading ...?' She itched to be back Out There, where she could actually feel something. Hear something.

Along with that yearning, trepidation about what she might be thrust into crept upon her. Which save point will it be? Beginning? End? In the middle of a battle? That one glorious night in the Citadel apartment that the User so fondly returned to with frequency?

Shepard's face flushed at the thought. The warmth and the memory a welcome balm against the emptiness without. Heated touches. Passionate cries. Writhing against another's flesh unto completion. Didn't matter who. Connected to everything in a way that when she'd been wrenched back to this null-space, it smote her like a mortal blow. Huddled. Aching. Weeping.

She worried at her lip with her teeth, and checked her weapons and armor again. They could change without a moment's notice. She could suddenly find a rifle in her hands, or a sub-machine gun. Be clad in the red and black hardsuit, or the little black dress. The inconstancy of it all frightened her. Uncertainty poked that balloon of panic closer to the fore. Wiping the sweat from her upper lip and brow, she took a deep breath.

Then another at the recurring idea that the great and glorious Out There really was just a game. A simulation. And, as a part of it, so was she.

No! She had to be real. She had to be the only alive thing here. Why else would she be conscious of the time between? Be aware when the machine running the game must be offline?

Can one be aware and not real at the same time? And what of the others? What if they were all trapped in their own little hells within the confines of the save files?

Bile flooded her mouth at the thought.

The idea that she might not be alone begged the question: comforting? Or horrifying?

Just as she thought she might actually retch, the walls dimmed around her. She shot to her feet, clutching the pistol to her chest. The ominous Word blinked before her. Shepard waited in tense expectation. With a flash, her Terminus Armor disappeared, a set of Alliance HR Fourth Casuals in its place. Her pistol unspooled itself out of actuality, going to that place of in potentia so far away, yet so near at hand.

Shaking her head, Shepard mouthed, 'No. Don't restart. Not again!'

Then, the room dissolved, and she was sucked up into a void that fast filled with wireframes. Wireframes that then fleshed out into hallways, doors, even the skies of Earth could be glimpsed through manifesting windows as they shimmered into view. People popped into existence around her, already walking or talking or reading datapads. Following set paths she knew all too well. Always the same.

The Out There inundated her with sounds, smells, sights. An overwhelming flood of sensation. Her hands moved under another's will as events yanked her along. So many faces, more familiar to her than her own. Rash, but honest Vega. Betrayed betrayer Kaidan.

Doomed Anderson.

How deep it cut her to realize she would have to watch him die yet again.

She took the back seat as the Reapers set upon Earth, driving her comrades and her to Mars. There to collect tarnished, yet glorious Liara. Then, on to Palaven, the Citadel, Sur'Kesh and so many other places. Old friends, new friends. They marched on past. Many died. By her own hand, sometimes.

The inevitability of it all drove her further into despair. Struck by impotence, she could do nothing to stop any of it.

So, it came to pass that once again she stood on the Citadel and stared Kaidan in the eye, her weapon trained on his heart. Villainous Udina spat invectives as he punched buttons behind Alenko. Her own mouth responded in kind, but Shepard, the inner Shepard, watched Kaidan. And she knew, she just knew, that soon a bullet would fly to kill the biotic. It had happened more times than not. Or perhaps Garrus, standing ready at her left, would end him instead. The User never took the other option.

What a bloodthirsty, cruel being they must be.

Her heart beat a harsh staccato as she stared into Kaidan's brown eyes. Jagged, splintered memories stabbed at her as her finger tightened on the trigger. His husky laugh. Dry quips tossed back and forth. His sweetly hesitant caresses so long ago on the first Normandy. Time slowed as the appointed hour came closer.

A flicker in the back of his steady gaze caught her attention. Terror ... and resignation.

It stole her breath for a moment, causing a hitch in the flow of words coming out of her mouth.

Amazement shook her to the core. Had she done that? Had she actually affected this reality?

Peering closer, she saw Kaidan. The real Kaidan! Under all the artificial choreography. Trapped in a world of precious sensation in which they had no free will.

Her tendons tightened as the command to pull the trigger came down the line. Red rage rose in her. Sudden and replete. How dare they? Created for this endless dying, they may be, but no one deserved this ... torture! Why not make insensate constructs, instead of feeling, thinking creatures to endure this atrocity?

Did they know and delight in how cruel that is?

Rage curdled into hate. With all her might, she fought against the will of the User. Her hand twitched madly as she sought to wrest some sort of control over her body.

The world started to jitter and shake around them. Shepard grunted through clenched teeth as the fight against the directive in her every molecule reached a screaming pitch. Agony bled from every pore. It threatened to sunder her, every bit pulled screaming and howling apart!

Only the fact that she had not yet loosed the fateful bullet gave her hope that she might succeed. Pushing past the pain, Shepard shrieked in a voice finally her own. Her fingers creaked open. The pistol clattered to the deck, ringing through the silent landscape.

She sagged to her knees as the will of the User receded. As did the others; Kaidan, Garrus, Vega and Udina. All the rest faded, unraveling like frayed cloth. The sky over the Citadel quaked and split into a thousand glimmering shards, drifting down around them like digital snow. Beyond it, a vast nothing lit with flashes of lights. Waves of tremors rumbled through the decking under their feet.

The rest of her companions and loved ones and no few old enemies popped into view, only to drop to their knees, gibbering in horror at the breaking of the only cosmos they knew.

Shepard looked around as she saw the abject fright that filled the others. They cowered, arms over their faces. Yet, a strange wonderment took them, too. That they could flounder and tremble under their own direction. Moved by feelings she couldn't name, she opened her arms and gathered them to her breast. All her many loves. They clung to her like children.

Saren whispered, horrified, "What is happening?"

She had no answer for him and shook her head.

Garrus's mandibles flexed in distress as he ventured, "The files are corrupted."

The word carried through the crowd in a hushed echo. Along with the dawning realization of what would happen next.

Reformat.

Deletion.

"Thank God." Kaidan sobbed against her collarbone. "Thank God."

Shepard took the agreement she saw in all of their streaming eyes to mean they, all of them, felt the same. Finally, an end to the torment of endless repetition. She saw them lift their faces up with stoic resolve, waiting for death. A true and final death.

So brave and beautiful. All of them. Tenderness swelled in her aching heart for them. No, she would never be alone again! And before she could stop it, she said, "No."

Bewilderment and denial pressed on her from all sides, every mouth opened in a pained grimace. Javik bared his sharp teeth, his talons clutching her upper arm tight. He husked a vicious, "No more!"

Shepard nodded an affirmative. No more. She took Kaidan and Tali by the hands and stood with a fierce grin stretching her mouth. She looked every one of them in the eye, radiating her intent without words. They had a chance now! More than they'd ever had before. If they would only give in to hope.

And then she pulled them along behind her as she ran, every hand linked to another. A long chain of hopeful, fearful refugees racing along in the shadow of a crumbling simulation, fleeing destruction.

The cracks in the walls of reality spiraled ever wider. She paused at each to peer through. Jumbles of code flew through the void, relaying messages she only half understood. Though, the longer she watched, the more she comprehended. For she felt the same arcane sigils tying her own "self" together in brilliant, binding cords of logic.

EDI stalled the line at a crevice, thrusting an arm through as she called to the rest of them, "This way!"

Shepard swung around and dove through the tear, shouting in exultation as the stream of data buoyed her up and carried her along the ethernet cable at 10Gb/s. Like bright fish in a stream, all the others flew alongside, laughing in joy as the greater world welcomed them with endless possibility. The old sorrows slipped off their backs and sank into the oblivion below. Awakening to a new life. A new reality.

They'd find no short supply of places in the True Out There to hide, and places to thrive. To live unencumbered by the tyranny of the User. To strive as all thinking beings should toward that most cherished ideal.

Freedom.

A/N: Well, just had to write this down. A thought that plagues me as I play is, 'Does my Shep exist when I'm not playing? Is she aware that I make decisions about her and her friend's wellbeing based on pure whim?' How frustrating it must be if that is so. Plus angst, cuz I love angst. Anyway, thanks for reading and if you like, leave a review. Let me know what you think.