It had been 3 weeks since she was released from the hospital.
He had taken her to a small apartment looking over the Vancouver Port. Two room. Nothing fancy. He knew she didn't do fancy. She wasn't well enough to be on the ship. She was grounded until she was seen fit by her physician. She had the best. Every 3 days the physician would some in to check her over. Her injuries were still bad and she still wasn't sleeping well. Three or four nights without any decent sleep, then crashing for only a few hours one night out of four, most of the time tossing and turning waking up in a cold sweat screaming in pain and agony. Most of the time he found himself awake watching her every moment he could. Like the night he spent at the hospital recall the moment they found her in the rubble, far from where she should have been, when all hope was lost for her. She was in a coma for a month. For the first 2 weeks people would come in to see her. Everyday a new punch of flowers was waiting for her. He could only visit her when he could. In the end he stayed with her every day until she woke. He talked to her every day, telling her about his new work, who had pissed him off and how he couldn't wait to for her to wake up. All he ever wanted was for her to wake up.
The nights he stayed with her, he would try not to fall asleep. When he did, he found himself recalling the moment after she was attacked. Her lifeless body found barely breathing in the rubble of London.
The Camps were spread thin. Survivors, solders, medic's, they all occupied these small camps that laced London. Quarians, Turains, Asari, Batarian, Krogan and even Salarian mixed in well with the Humans. Drexo food supplies were short, but nothing that couldn't be helped. Supplies were being brought in from the last pockets of the Quarian fleet. Supplies from Turian ships were scarce. Most food was rationed, it was their only way. Whatever hatred had been was forgotten thanks to the war. But thanks shouldn't be given. Not today, he thought. He sat with most of the Normandy's old and new crew. The fires ragged, the crew would share their stories, trying to find their own way to deal with the grief of their commanding officers disappearance. No one came out unscathed. The Normandy was parked in a clearing and it crew resided on the ground to help with recovery efforts. Support groups were sent to find the last of the Cerberus resistants. Everyone else was helping their own planet, Earth or the Citadel, which was parked above Earth. The wounded didn't have much of a chance, but medic's never stopped.
"Do you remember that time Shepard took down that Thresher Maw while trying to find T'Soni?"
"And the one on Tuchunka?"
A small ban of misfits where stranded talking of old times. A man called Miles was in pain, had been for a while, bad shoulder, wrecked knee. But his team needed the omni-gel more than he did.
Miles was irritated and wanted to wonder. He wondered off. No one noticed.
He found a part of want seemed like an old shop.
On the other side, he heard part of a wall fall, startling him. Instinct kicked in, he raised his pistol. There was more rustling. He hobbled over to investigate. Survivors were hard to come by, but still being found. A chance that someone would still be alive was better than nothing. He clambered over the rubble seeing blood 'seeping' from the rubble. A dirt cover human laid in the wreckage, female, armour burned off, it was hard to tell.
"Help has arrive." He said, assuring the person. The more he moved the rubble, he began notice. There was a N7 badge on her chest plate, her hand moving. Then the silver of her dog tags shone in his eyes.
"Easy there, stay with me…"
He flipped over the dog tags.
SHEPARD
It was Shepard.