[A/N : I usually write in French, although I do read a lot in English. I thought I might try doing this for a change, and so... here it is ! Would appreciate some insight about the langage, grammar and everything]
The first thing she felt was pain. Pain was neither new nor unknown; pain was something familiar she had learned to know as the years went by. But this pain – this one she had never encountered before. Not even the time she had felt herself dying. She had suffocated that time, she had had time to understand it was the end of the line, and, as she had searched for the air that could no longer reach her lungs, she had simply stopped living. She was long gone by the time her body had finally been crushed by the fall. She had been scared as hell, but she hadn't had time to hurt.
Today though, the pain was unbearable.
Today, she really wished to die.
And so she let the darkness swallow her whole.
The second thing she felt was light. White, crude and blinding light. She wanted to raise her hand and protect her eyes, but her arm refused to obey her. Then pain was back, as strong as it was the first time, stronger even, and she heard a groan escape out of her sore throat and dried lips. After that, there was noise, some confused chatter she couldn't make out, then the pinch of a needle in her shoulder, and darkness again.
Nothingness.
The third time she regained consciousness, her eyes opened to a dirty-white ceiling. She stared at it for a while, just enough time for the memories to flood back to her, enough time for her to understand where she might be. Then she turned her head and her eyes fell on the monitor beeping beside her bed. She let her eyes wander about the empty room, noticing the perfusion in her arm and the cast on the other one. At that moment, someone passed her door, stopped there with a dumb look on the face, and suddenly turned to the corridor.
-Doctor, Jane Doe is awake!
She could hear the steps as a man wearing a white coat raced to the young nurse. Both humans, she noted without really knowing what she should deduce out of it. Was she still on Earth, then?
While the nurse checked her monitor's readings, the doctor put a light to her eyes, and she blinked with discomfort.
-Her vitals are stables, the nurse pointed out.
The doctor put his damn light back in his coat's pocket and looked at her with worry. She didn't like how his face was so close to hers, or his bushy brow that was raised with obvious uncertainty. She felt like grabbing him by the shoulders to shake him, but moving was out of the question for now. Still – she didn't want his bloody pity.
-Can you hear me, soldier?
Definitely not "soldier", dumbass. Only she didn't actually say the words out loud. Her mind was still quite befuddled, but as confused as she was, she had understood the hidden meaning behind his question: they didn't know who she was. They had absolutely no idea.
-Not deaf.
Speaking was difficult. Her throat hurt, her lips were dried and cracked. But she felt relieved to know that she could still talk. Her mind seemed somewhat clear, she was able to understand what they were telling her, and she could provide coherent answers. Well. Good to know. Her brain was apparently intact.
-Do you know where you are?
-No. Hospital.
The doctor nodded. She was starting to have enough of that amazed look on his face. She would understand later though: she was a miracle to them. As of now, she just couldn't stand his concerned and astonished look or the incredulous eyes of the nurse who stood by her bed.
-We're on Earth, the doctor told her. Do you remember what happened to you?
No. Yes. Chaotic memories came back to her in violent and sudden waves. The Crucible. The Citadel. Anderson. The Reapers. The Catalyst. Her heart started beating faster in her chest, her breathing became ragged and the monitor's alarms went on. Two firm but gentle hands reached for her shoulders.
-Calm down! Calm down, soldier, the doctor said with a reassuring voice. War's over. You're safe here.
-Over? She repeated doubtfully.
-Over, he insisted.
-The Reapers?
-Destroyed.
Her heart started beating faster again, but this time it was out of excitement, not terror. She could barely believe it and actually considered pinching herself. Was it possible that they had finally made it, after all these years, all these battles, all the people they had lost?
-Do you remember your name? The doctor asked her with relief at seeing she had calmed down.
-Elizabeth, she replied quickly.
Appearing pleased, he nodded softly.
-What about your last name? He asked again.
At that point, she could have answered honestly. She could have told him who she was, but she couldn't bring herself to say the name. She stopped herself at the last second. Her mouth was already open, but she suddenly didn't want to let him know. She just wasn't ready. There were still too many unanswered questions. If the war was really over and the Reapers destroyed, then what had happened to her crew? What about the Alliance? The Normandy? Why the hell was she alone in this room; why was she still on Earth; where on Earth was she; why didn't they know who she was? Was someone looking for her out there, or did they simply believe she was really gone this time? How much time had gone by, how much time had she been unconscious and lingering between life and death, and how had the universe changed?
-Alenko, she finally said, telling him the first name that came to mind – and for good reason.
The doctor didn't flinch, and she could see the nurse writing on her PDA as she probably filled the blanks in her file, writing her name somewhere in there. Elizabeth Alenko.
Three weeks – that was how long she had been in a coma. She had been unconscious when a team looking for survivors had found her in the rubble. Alive, but barely. A threading pulse and ragged breathing. For a long time, they hadn't thought they could save her. During her first operation, her heart had stopped, and, for the second time in her life, she had been clinically dead. It had taken a long time to bring her back, and they had feared for irreversible brain damage.
But Elizabeth was a tough one. So she had survived, against all odds and probably out of sheer will to prove everyone wrong. She had survived with head trauma, no spleen, a pneumothorax, several broken ribs, a collapsed lung, a fractured pelvis, an arm broken in two places, a shattered kneecap and a leg that was basically in pieces. She had survived. And she would walk again, they assured her after they had listed the damages her body had gone through. It would take time, courage, a lot of physiotherapy after her bones would have mended, but yeah, she would walk again. She would be in pain though, terrible pain, so bad she probably would regret not having died on the stop, but she would, at some point, put a foot in front of the other again. She had pins in her leg now, little pieces of metal that would guarantee she would stand on her legs again, metal that was the difference between a future on her own two legs and one trapped in a wheelchair. Oh, she would likely have to kiss her career in the field goodbye, but after everything she had been through, all she had survived really, she didn't even feel like she wanted that anyway. She had given up too much, and everything had been taken away from her.
The hardest wasn't her broken body. It wasn't even physical therapy, though it was even more painful than what she had imagined. It wasn't learning how to walk again, it wasn't the cries of pain, or the sweat, or her freaking limbs that stubbornly refused to obey her. The hardest was her mind. It had nothing to do with her head trauma, which now seemed far back and benign. It was what was happening in there, what spin in her head day and night and prevented her from getting actual sleep. She met with a hospital shrink twice a week and had to talk to him for an hour each time. Except she couldn't. One does not tell the untellable. There are things you just cannot put words upon. She was simply unable to tell him about the past five years, the endless fights, what she had been through. Anyhow, she was no more than an ordinary soldier now – a survivor, but an ordinary one. She was no longer a hero or a celebrity. She wasn't even the name she had preferred to get rid of. She was just one more person in a crowd of suffering and traumatized people, of victims, of amputees, of broken ones. And as they were, she was broken too, physically but also mentally. Broken bones would mend with time. She had less certainty about her soul's wounds.
Because there are things one does not come back from.
Days went by, then weeks, and finally, months. Time slipped right through her fingers. She settled into the daily rhythm of meds and appointments.
Then came a morning like any other, as she had lost the count of days for a long time. As the nurse pushed her wheelchair down the corridor to the room where she was expected for physiotherapy, she announced quite happily that she would leave the hospital soon. Elizabeth's heart started beating way too fast.
-Why? She asked.
Her tone seemed to take aback the nurse.
-I thought you'd be happy to know, she mumbled.
Elizabeth chose not to answer. It wasn't that she was really unhappy to finally leave, to let behind the odor of meds, the wounded and the empty white rooms. But there was something reassuring, almost comforting really, about being in here. Her daily life was about getting better; there was no room for danger or surprises. She had nothing to face but pain and mending; she did not have to face her past, her grief, the person she was becoming or the one she was no longer – would never be again. Alright, there was the problem of the solitude that sometimes gnawed at her. But then again, at least she didn't have to worry about what her comrades had become. They were surely dead, and as long as she was here, as long as she only had to focus on learning to do the most basic things in life again, then she didn't have to grieve for them, to find out about what they had become, how they had died because of her, how she couldn't save them. She was alone here, but she was also living in the bliss of ignorance and not knowing. As long as she didn't know anything, then they could as well be still alive. As long as she didn't know anything, she was free to imagine them living without her somewhere out there, still being, still breathing, still walking the Earth, or any other planet in the universe.
-Surely you must have some family, don't you? The nurse asked, still sounding taken aback. In all this time, no one ever visited you. I'm sure you must want to see them again.
-No. I don't know, Elizabeth admitted hoarsely. I don't know if they're… I don't know what happened to them.
The nurse raised a curious brow.
-The war has been over for months now, soldier. You only have to read the Alliance's files, you know.
Elizabeth hesitated. She knew that of course, but she didn't dare to. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She liked the uncertainty.
The following afternoon, she saw her shrink for the last time. He watched her with obvious interest, silently, just sitting in his usual chair. Then he handed her a PDA without saying a single word. She looked down at it in surprise, not wanting to take it.
-Go ahead, he urged her, finally speaking.
-Why?
-You know why, Elizabeth.
She shook her head but absentmindedly reached for the PDA and grabbed it. Then the shrink got up with a slight smile on his lips.
-Good luck, he wished her sincerely.
-Are you leaving?
-You don't need me anymore, Elizabeth. You have to walk the rest of the way on your own.
For a split second, she thought about asking him to stay. She wanted to grab him by the wrist and forbid him to leave. But she knew he was right. Because she wasn't just anyone after all.
So she opened the Alliance's website and clicked on the long lists of the soldiers that had gone MIA and KIA during the war.
It was a weird feeling to see her own name written on the page. She was officially still missing. They hadn't found her body, after all. But she only had to type a few words on a search engine to see the articles written about her victory… and her passing. As months had gone by, they had stopped doubting her death. An article let her know that they had held a ceremony in her honor. There was a photograph over the article, and her heart skipped a few beats when she saw her face – the one she had before.
The first time she had seen herself in the mirror again, she hadn't been able to recognize herself. It wasn't surprising, then, that no one knew who she really was. She hadn't changed much physically, however, except for a small scar above the eye, the place where her face had brutally hit the inside of her helmet. After a few weeks spent in the hospital, she had also suddenly cut her hair, and so her brown locks had disappeared in the sink, but it wasn't the loss of her usual ponytail for that short bob that had really changed her either. It was something more profound, more indefinable. Something in the eyes, in the look, in what you could read on her face. There wasn't victory in these eyes, but hardships, pain, hurt, fear, the grief she couldn't bring herself to accept, the horror of the war she had led. Those weren't the eyes of a common soldier, though, not the ones she had seen in the hospital along the months. Her eyes screamed more than her name. They screamed she hadn't seen the same things the others had. But to hear it, one should have to have known.
The day she left the hospital, the scenery she could see from the shuttle's window was completely new to her. She didn't recognize anything: neither the evidence of the destruction that had destroyed it nor the buildings one had rebuilt.
-Everything's changed, she breathed with her nose against the window.
The pilot chuckled beside her.
-Well, they didn't waste any time, that's for sure! He said enthusiastically. It's nice to see.
Elizabeth hesitated at first, then nodded. Yeah. It was certainly strange but undoubtedly nice. Seeing the world on the other side of the window, she felt like it, too, had had to learn how to walk again. She felt like it limped a little too, maybe would limp for the rest of its life, with pins and metal in its leg, but it was standing again. Not wholly recovered, but on the way to a full recovery. And if it could mend, then maybe she could too.
The passenger ship took off right on time, loaded with people and their luggage. She watched Earth move away from the bay. Her heart was tightening with familiar memories.
-What a view, right? A young woman on her right said.
Elizabeth swallowed hard and nodded. She would never have admitted it, but she was scared.
-Have you ever been there? The Citadel, I mean, the other woman asked, looking curious and enthusiast at the trip.
-Yes, she simply answered.
-I never have! I thought it was finally time. Now that the war's over and all that… I heard they have rebuilt everything that was destroyed when the Reapers attacked.
She had learned that from an article too, and she acknowledged it with a nod. The place was probably unrecognizable now, and she didn't really feel like finding out so soon what it had become, but her search had led to one conclusion only: that was where she had to go.
Or she could have stayed on Earth and let time go by. But she had waited long enough already.
The woman next to her kept on talking cheerfully. Elizabeth let her without answering, as she found something strangely comforting in her childish enthusiasm, and contented herself with gazing at space.
-Were you on Earth when they attacked?
The suddenly serious question brought her back to reality.
-I was around, she admitted vaguely.
The other woman stared at her more gravely that she had thought she could.
-Were you a soldier? She guessed with a shrug to her crutch.
Elizabeth nodded slightly.
-My brother was with the Alliance, the woman said sadly. He didn't make it. You're lucky, you know.
The sentence hit her hard. Lucky? Never had she considered herself lucky, not once in all those long months. Sure, she was alive, but she had such a price to pay for this, such pain and grief that she didn't really feel grateful she had made it out alive. Never until now.
-You're right, she conceded. You're right. I'm lucky.
But yet she wasn't so convinced of that anymore when the ship docked in the Citadel. She was amongst the last passengers to get off, letting the others scatter without her. She took her time to hobble along the dock, leaning on her crutch to relieve her leg that was still convalescing. Having her two feet on the ground was already a small miracle in itself. The rest would take more time still.
-Do you need a hand? A voice nearby asked.
She was surprised to see the young woman she had talked to on the ship, who had waited for her at the end of the dock. She smiled gratefully at her but shook her head no:
-No, thank you. I know where I'm going, and my leg's stronger than it seems.
-Well then… It was nice to meet you. Thank you for your service, soldier.
-Elizabeth, she corrected with another smile.
Then, with a stronger and surer voice than she would have thought, she added:
-Elizabeth Shepard.
And, as she turned her back on the other woman, she could have sworn she saw her eyes go wide.
The Citadel hadn't changed as much as she had thought it would have. Alright, the buildings were brand new and there was still construction work everywhere, but the general layout of the place hadn't really changed and she felt something terribly familiar when she took the paths she had walked so many times in the past. She saw herself here on missions or on leave with her crew or her friends and missed the feeling of having them by her side.
Yes, she had definitely made the right choice. A hard one, but still – the right one.
The elevator's doors opened and Elizabeth got out. Her heart was racing as if it was feeling what was coming. She walked slowly, as she was exhausted by the trip, having maybe presumed of her strength, and used her crutch more than she should have by now. No one cared about her as she went. People were moving and working all around as they loaded or unloaded cargo while soldiers went by. She was now on the Alliance's docks. One could see the ships behind the bays, and the Normandy was surely there among them. But she wasn't here for her, not yet. She had something to do first.
She suddenly saw him, feeling like she didn't really have had the time to get ready to. He wasn't looking in her direction but hadn't his back on her either: he had his side to her, standing in his combat uniform with an open omnitool as he was talking with two other soldiers.
He had changed too.
Sure, Elizabeth hadn't seen him in almost a year, but it wasn't a matter of time. He looked like he had aged a bit, but not so much because of age as because of what he had been put through. Like she did, he had something new on his face, in the eyes. Something she found hard and aching.
For a minute, she thought about turning back, leaving him unknowing. She wasn't sure he could forgive her someday. Surely, he must have been wept for her for all this time, he must have tried to grieve as he already had to once before. He had barely made it that time, he had thrown himself into work to try and shut the screams in his head, the guilt, the sorrow that was breaking his heart. She couldn't picture him doing otherwise this time either. So what right did she have to suddenly barge into his life again, without warning, to come and disrupt his grief and his life once more? And how would she explain? How would she tell him she had willingly delayed the time when she would look for his name on a list, to type it in a search engine, to learn that not only was he alive but also almost within her reach? How would she make him understand she had needed all these months to begin, only begin, to rebuild herself somewhat, piece by piece; that he wasn't the one she had rejected, she was, the person she had become was? How would she let him know that not only had she needed to learn how to walk again, over there in that hospital back on Earth, but also how to live again?
But then again, she had let him believe she was dead out of sheer selfishness, and it was also out of selfishness that she had now come back. Because he was the next step on her path to recovery. Open her eyes, get back up again, and then… Watch him in the eye.
Someone dropped cargo close to her with a loud shout, and he mechanically turned his head in that direction. First, his eyes slipped over her without really seeing her, but then, he stopped. Right in his tracks. His fingers stilled in the middle on his movement, he stopped blinking, his eyes filled up with disbelief and his mouth stayed open in the middle of his sentence. From where she stood, it seemed as if he had actually even stopped breathing.
-Captain? One of his men called out to him.
Since he didn't answer, the man glanced surprisingly toward his colleague, who shrugged unknowingly.
Elizabeth took a step forward, then stopped. She wanted to smile or run and throw herself into his arms, but she knew that it wasn't her steps to take, not this time. He had to make the first step. So she forced herself to remain where she was, when she had urged herself to do the exact opposite for all these months, and the irony of the moment almost made her laugh out loud.
Over there, he finally brought himself to move. He walked to her so slowly that it seemed like time had stopped. The bustle kept going on around them, but they didn't even notice. Nothing else mattered.
He didn't come all the way to her. He walked most of the distance between them, but then he stopped a few steps away from her, far enough that she couldn't touch him but still close enough that she could hear him talk.
-Lizzie?
Her name came hardly to his lips and brought many emotions with it. She heard much in these two small syllables; she heard disbelief, unthinkable shock, but also anger, and – dared she hope? – love.
-Kaidan.
It had been almost a year since she had last said his name, since that damn day when she had told him goodbye, when she had kissed him for the last time, as she was already convinced deep down inside that she was walking a path she would not come back from.
-Impossible, he abruptly said, his voice hard.
She felt her heart shatter but raised her arms slightly, as if to say: "And yet".
-I buried you, he went on with the same rough tone. I buried you for the second time, and I wept for you. With every tear I had.
-Looks like I've got nine lives, buddy, she tried to joke.
He shot her an angry look, one she had never seen on him, and she really thought he was about to slap her. But almost at the same time, the same split second, something else appeared in his eyes, and, before she had time to decrypt what it was that had glowed in there, he crossed the distance that still stood between them, and took her in his arms.
He hugged her so tightly she thought he would break her ribs again. He hugged her tight enough to choke her, but she let him and didn't say a word. Quite on the contrary, she raised her arm to wrap it around his neck, and she hugged him back.
They stayed that way a long time. Maybe even an eternity. Time, for the second time in a few minutes, lost its meaning. Then, finally, they both simultaneously let go. Kaidan put his hands on her shoulders, her elbows, her hips, and then grabbed her hand in his.
-Lizzie, he said again.
This time though, he told her name differently. She heard relief, unmeasurable relief, and, she was certain this time, love, again, still, despite everything.
-How…?
He stopped before ending his sentence; he didn't need to. She understood.
-Took time. A lot of time. I'm sorry, Kaidan, I…
He didn't let her finish either. His lips suddenly came crashing into hers, and he kissed her like he never had. They had already kissed in many different ways, with desire, with heat, with love, playfully, sadly even, but never before with such desperate and incredulous avidity. Their mouths only pulled apart when they finally had to come out for air. Then Kaidan, with his face still so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips and his nose brush against hers, cupped her face in his hands as his eyes dived into hers.
-Lizzie, he said for the third time.
-It's me. It's me!
He chuckled, apparently seeming to find it still hard to believe.
-I'm sorry, she apologized again. I was too scared you'd be dead. And I needed time. Time to rebuild myself. Time to heal.
-I looked for you, he told her while dismissing her explanation at the same time. I thought I had looked for you everywhere, but… Was it not enough?
She knew then, at the tone of his voice, at the way his sentence had raised to a full question, that he felt like he needed to be forgiven as badly as she did. That each of them would still carry a little bit of regret and guilt for all the time that had gone by. She would because she had refused to face reality; and he would too because he would stay convinced he hadn't search for her far and long enough; even after years, even after the two children they would have someday, even after a life spent together. These were the small scars that would slowly heal, by dint of assuring themselves of the other one's presence day after day, of sharing the same bed night after night, of holding their son in their arms first, their daughter after him, of seeing Andy grow up and Skylar become an adult too, but these small scars would always stay there, somewhere deep inside of them. They'd be a sign that they were, after all, still alive.
-It was enough, Kaidan, she reassured him. You wouldn't have found Commander Shepard anywhere.
-They promoted you to Admiral, he smiled slightly.
She raised a brow, then shrugged.
-How couldn't I… How did I not know? Kaidan asked while caressing her cheek.
-No one did. I can't wait to see the Alliance's face. Oh, man, the paperwork…
-But… At the hospital? Kaidan insisted while ignoring the joke.
-Well, they treated Elizabeth Alenko for a while. But Shepard? Nope, never saw her.
-You used my name? He asked with surprise. Why?
-Because I didn't feel like myself anymore, she tried to explain. And because you, Kaidan, were always my… My port in the storm, you know? My home.
Kaidan nodded as if he understood perfectly, as if it really made sense. It actually didn't, not even to her, but did it matter?
-I still can't believe you're here.
Elizabeth smiled. She leaned on her crutch as a tangible and very real sign of what had happened to her – to them. But with time, as years would go by, she would get rid of it and run again. She would never go back in the field in the end. She had seen too much. Her new rank would prevent her from taking part in field operations anyway. And she would have to adjust to her new life, to staying ashore for so long, to not being the captain of the Normandy anymore, but she would do it without bitterness or resignation. She felt like a new person. And so she needed a new life. It didn't matter. She finally felt like she was home.
-I'm really here, Kaidan. I'm here.
The end