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Honor Shepard’s mouth was dry. She tried to sit up, then winced in pain as a hundred small hurts exploded across her body. Something was tugging at her arms.
She opened her eyes, only to close them again as they were flooded with white light. It was a long minute before they adjusted and she could make out the room around her.
Plain white walls, and chrome, and too-bright fluorescent lights. Looking down at her arms she saw the source of the tugging; a drip in one forearm, a number of wires attached to the other. A hospital. Of course.
Her memories came back to her in bits and pieces. She remembered the smoking wasteland that had once been London. She remembered the Citadel. She remembered the Illusive Man, and Anderson, and finally speaking to… someone? Something? Her head throbbed when she tried to recall what had happened after that. Whatever it had been, there was one thing she knew for certain; they had won. She would not be alive if they hadn’t.
Looking around, Shepard was relieved to find a bottle of water on her bedside table. Moving gingerly she picked it up and unscrewed the cap. It was lukewarm, but she drank it down like nectar. Wiping her lips on the sleeve of her gown, she laid back in her narrow bed and tried to piece together what had happened.
She only had flashes of memory from her time in the hospital; people crowding around her bed and being ushered out, a woman in Alliance uniform asking her questions, two doctors arguing in angry whispers. These images were so hazy, it was possible that she had dreamed them.
There was one more thing she remembered. The sound of waves, and sand beneath her bare feet, and the feeling of calm that had washed over her. Then there had been firm hands on her shoulders, turning her around, pushing her back. Not now , someone had said. It is not your time.
That, she was sure, had been a dream.
Now that she felt more awake, Shepard began to sort through the innumerable items crowding a small table at her bedside. There were the usual gift-shop standbys; wilting flowers, lopsided stuffed animals, half-deflated balloons. Some more tasteful gifts had been left too, with notes from various ambassadors and dignitaries. Each of them thanked her for her service in defeating the Reapers. She wasn’t sure she recognised any of their names.
There was a small pile of cards and letters on the corner of the table, separate from the rest, along with a datapad - her datapad, she realised. She breathed a slow sigh of relief. If that had survived, then the Normandy had too.
Shepard spent some time sorting through an avalanche of unopened messages. From them she managed to piece together some of what happened since London. The Reapers were gone. The galaxy had begun to rebuild. She had been pulled for the wreckage almost two months ago, if the dates were correct.
She knew that she should be ecstatic at the news of their victory, but more than anything she felt exhausted. Her body was a wreck, of course - she could tell that much - but it was more than that. It was as if she had been carrying a weight around her neck for years, and only now had she been allowed to put it down and rest. She could have slept for a century.
“Shepard?” a familiar voice came from the doorway.
She looked up and smiled. “Hey, Garrus.”
The turian was at her bedside quick as blinking. “You’re actually awake,” he said, disbelieving. “The doctors said you’d be out cold another week, at least.”
Shepard pushed herself up into a sitting position, turning carefully to face her friend. “Hey, I died once, remember? Takes more than a coma to stop me.” Her voice was hoarse, and she coughed a little as she spoke.
“You need me to get you anything?” Garrus said. “Water? Coffee?” His mandibles twitched in agitation.
“I could do with both,” she said. “But that can wait. Sit. Talk.”
Garrus did as he was told, pulling up a chair that was a little too small for him and sitting at Shepard’s bedside. It was hard to tell with a face that was half carapace, but Shepard thought he looked haggard, as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.
“You look about as good as I feel,” she said.
“Well,” he said, shifting in his seat. “You gave us a bit of a scare back on Earth. To put it lightly. I’m not sure if I should even tell you…”
“Tell me what?”
Garrus paused, then his shoulders relaxed a little. “We thought you were dead, Shepard. We almost left without you. It was a close thing. Finding you alive was nothing short of a miracle, and the odds the doctors gave you weren’t good.”
Shepard considered this for a moment. For a long time now she had been prepared to sacrifice herself in the fight against the Reapers. She had accepted that fate, knowing that she would do whatever was necessary to prevent the destruction of the galaxy. Her galaxy. On Mindoir she had lost everyone who mattered to her, and she had not been willing to let that happen again.
But she had survived. Against the odds, against all rhyme and reason, she had survived. It surprised her to realise that she had made no plans for this eventuality. To defeat the Reapers and live to tell the tale was not a future she had foreseen for herself.
“Are you okay?” Garrus spoke quietly.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“What I do now.”
Garrus shook his head in disbelief. “Now? Now you stay in hospital and you rest , Shepard. For once. I think you’ve earned a little R&R.”
“There’s still a lot to do.” She glanced down at her datapad, the inbox still overflowing with reports. “The galaxy needs to rebuild-”
Garrus pushed the datapad out of her reach. “And it will. Without you, for a while.”
“Fine.” Shepard collapsed back onto her pillows, exhaling sharply when her back spasmed with pain. “ Damn . Fine.”
“I know. Feeling useless isn’t my favourite thing in the world either.” He hesitated for a moment, then placed his hand carefully over hers. “It’s good to have you back, Shepard. If I know you at all you’ll be back to your old self in no time. Harassing council members, punching charging Krogans in the snout…”
“Ah,” she managed a smile. “The good old days.”
Garrus laughed, then got to his feet. “I should probably let someone know you’re up. I’ll get that coffee while I’m at it. You need anything else?”
As if on cue, Shepard’s stomach cramped with hunger. “Food, if I’m allowed it. Something with carbs and sugar.”
“You got it.” He nodded, then turned to leave.
Shepard hesitated for a moment, then called after him. “Hey, Garrus? Have you been at the hospital this whole time?"
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Not the whole time. I had a meeting with the Primarch last week. That took at least an hour.”
“I thought so,” she smiled. “Thanks.”
His mandibles twitched again. “No problem. I’ll be back soon.”
After Garrus had left Shepard rearranged her pillows and settled down with her datapad. It seemed like there were messages from everyone she had ever known. Liara, Tali, Eve; even Aria had sent her a message through an encrypted channel, though she seemed more irritated than pleased at the Commander’s survival.
Shepard closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about where she would go now that the war was over. She slipped into a perfect, dreamless sleep before she had chance to decide.