It was strangely familiar, waking up after being in the dark for so long. This time though, instead of a cool white room smelling of antiseptic, Sanar opened her eyes to choking dust and the smell of blood. She tried to move her head to look around, but her body refused to respond. She was so tired. One more attempt to move told her that her arm was pinned under something. Her eyes closed again. At least it was quiet and dark, wherever she was.

The next time Sanar opened her eyes, it was still dark, but she could vaguely hear people shouting, and the sound of many feet scrambling over rocks and metal. "I'm here," she said - or tried to say. Nothing would come out of her mouth but a dry croak. She tried tapping her comm unit, but she still couldn't move, and then vaguely remembered that she'd lost her helmet at some point. Her eyes squeezed shut against a sudden bright light, and she slipped back down into the dark. She couldn't hear the triumphant shouts or feel any of the hands lifting debris away from her.

Sanar drifted through darkness for what felt like years. It wasn't the terrifying weightlessness of deep space - when she was aware at all, the drifting felt like floating gently down a river. Sometimes, she could hear voices, sometimes familiar, and sometimes not. Once, she thought she heard Miranda yelling at someone, and Sanar would have smiled if she could have. People bustled around her as vague, blurry shapes, and gentle beeping machines became the only constant sound. Commander Shepard, can you hear me? was repeated to her every once in a while, but she felt too heavy and tired to open her eyes and answer.

As time passed, she started to discern people standing by her bed. Sometimes she could even piece together some of what they were saying. We had to amputate, there was no…. We're monitoring her brain activity, she's …. no response yet, but she experiences rapid eye movement…. massive reconstructive surgery…. nerve damage…. miracle that she's still…. of course she's heavily sedated, the pain she'd be in would be catastrophic…. It was always the doctors, sometimes Miranda. But one voice evaded Sanar, the one she wanted to hear the most.

And then, after what seemed like ages, she suddenly heard him. Kaidan's voice struck her ears like a hammer against a bell. Even in her strange, half dreaming state, Sanar recognized the taut control in his tone, where he was trying to hold everything in. She wanted more than anything to see him, but her eyelids simply wouldn't open. Sensation in her fingers told her that he was next to the bed, holding her limp hand between both of his.

"Shepard," he whispered, her name falling from his lips like something sacred. "I came as soon as I could." The last thing Sanar felt before she drifted off again was Kaidan kissing her hand, so softly that she might dreamed it.

Fuzzy shapes greeted her when she was finally to open her eyes. The dim light from the bedside lamp -stabbed her eyes painfully, and Sanar blinked several times before her vision adjusted. Her neck creaked like an old rusty hinge when she turned her head, but the pain was worth it. Kaidan sat slumped in a chair to her right, his head resting on the edge of her hospital bed and his fingers curled around hers. His hair had gone a little grayer at the temples, there were new lines at the corners of his eyes, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in weeks. He was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen in her life.

She must have sighed or made some noise while she watched him, because his eyes flew open suddenly and he nearly fell out of his chair. "Shepard?" he breathed, his grip on her hand tightening. "Are you… can you hear me?"

"Hey." The word dragged out of Sanar's throat like the scrape of sandpaper.

Kaidan pressed his forehead to her chest, trembling with pent-up emotion. "God, Shepard," he whispered. His eyes were wet when he looked back up at her again. "I really thought you weren't going to wake up."

"How long?"

"Almost three months. The Normandy made it back to Earth yesterday."

"Did… did everyone make it?"

Kaidan looked down sadly. "Not EDI. But everyone else is fine. They're all waiting in the lobby, driving the nurses crazy."

Sanar wheezed out a rusty laugh. "I'd like to see that." Kaidan pressed his lips to her hand again, and suddenly nothing was enough - even sitting right next to the bed, he was too far away. She tried to pull him in close, but her arm wouldn't obey her.

He understood her look of frustration immediately. "The doctors have been weaning you off the heavy pain meds. It's going to take a while before you get your strength back."

"I'm not a delicate little invalid," she huffed in annoyance, even though she knew that was precisely what she was.

"Far from it," Kaidan agreed, his mouth quirking into a little smile. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"Get over here," she grated out, tugging weakly at his arm. "It's been three damn months." Kaidan leaned over her, bracing his hands on both sides of her pillow and kissing her softly. It wasn't quite what she wanted - she wanted him to climb in the bed with her and hold her close until they both fell asleep - but it would have to be enough for the moment. Later they could grieve over their lost friends, and take stock of the damage she'd taken and begin the road toward healing together. Right now, she felt exhausted just from holding her eyes open this long.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sanar. I promise." Kaidan sat back down in his chair and scooted it a little closer to the bed.

She nodded weakly, her eyes sliding shut by themselves. "I'm glad it was you," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Last time I woke up from dying, I was alone. Glad it's you here this time."

"Me too."