Alenko exited the Captain's quarters, having turned in his official mission report for Eden Prime. The whole thing had left him with a headache that threatened to tip over the verge, and even though coffee was probably the last thing he should have in case it set him off, he moved towards the mess and poured himself a cup.

He hadn't slept since they'd returned from Eden Prime and that had been nearly thirteen hours ago. Couldn't sleep as long as the Commander was still unconscious, taking a hit that had been meant for him. So coffee it was. Or rather, more coffee.

Even writing the report, stringing together bits of data he'd managed to collect from his open omni-tool, hadn't completely absolved him of the guilt he felt, because Shepard was lying on a bed in the medbay because of a security field or something Prothean that he'd activated. By all rights, the unconscious body should have been his.

"LT, you look like shit."

Alenko looked up from the counter as Williams slid into the mess, gently shoving him out of the way so she, too, could access the coffee pot.

She glanced up at him as she pulled a mug out of the cabinet. "Might wanna get some sleep before the political showdown."

For emphasis she pointed both fingers as if they were guns and fired off shots in his general direction.

"Can't sleep," he replied.

At least one good thing had come out of the whole mess: Williams' transfer to the Normandy. He was glad that the Captain agreed with his assessment that Williams belonged on the roster. She would have been reassigned regardless, so the fact that she'd been reassigned here was pleasing. He'd mentioned in his report that he believed the Commander would agree, and Captain Anderson believed him on that account, too, after reading through the mission details during their debrief.

Filling in for the CO's shoes wasn't something he was used to doing.

"Don't beat yourself up over Shepard. From what I've read, she's the type who'd go through hell for her team."

Alenko arched an eyebrow as he leaned against the counter. "From what you've read?"

Williams flopped herself onto the nearest bench and said, "Don't get a lot of action pounding the same guard post every day on a planet so close to earth. And there's more than a fair share of articles written about the Commander. Press have got their noses shoved so far up her ass it's a wonder they can still breathe."

Alenko snorted. He largely ignored the press, but the notion didn't surprise him. Notable war heroes weren't often left alone - something he'd noticed went cross-species, too. For the most part. Salarians tended to not idolize, but they still had their versions of celebrities. Hell, Jon Grissom was still hounded by reporters and it'd been nearly three decades since his big moment in the spotlight.

The media tended to cling to their icons until there was nothing left.

"So," Williams continued, pulling Alenko out of his silent musings, "looks like you guys are stuck with me. Reassigned."

"I heard," he answered. "The Captain put the official request through about an hour ago."

"I'm just glad you two were there to pull my ass out of the fire. It was looking pretty grim down there. You gonna sit down?"

"What?" Alenko looked up at her again. Perhaps he was a little more tired than he thought, and maybe more coffee wouldn't fix it. The headache was still pulsing, but hadn't boiled over into anything serious. He shrugged his shoulders and emptied his mug. "Gonna go check on the Commander, actually."

And take something for the oncoming migraine, but he left that part unsaid. He wasn't one for flaunting the adverse effects of his implant. Especially when other L2's had it worse.

Williams shook her head at him, but said nothing as he left.

The medbay was empty, except for Shepard of course. Still lying unconscious on the medical bed. He walked over to her after digging out some pain meds, careful to not make a noise so as not to disturb her per Doctor Chakwas' previous orders when he'd stood vigil while writing his reports. The first for the mission, the second on Jenkins' death. Both reports should have fallen under Shepard's purview, but given the circumstances, the task fell to him.

Lying on the bed was the second smallest he'd seen her.

The only time he'd seen her appear smaller was when she'd crumpled to the ground at his feet after the beacon exploded.

Both of those incidents were nothing anyone had seen coming. After working the mission with her, he would have bet more money on the beacon exploding than her being taken down if presented with the option.

He still couldn't rid himself of the notion that it was his fault, that she wouldn't be there if it weren't for him somehow... activating it. Or stepping inside it's 'reach' as it had already appeared to be live. He should have known better than to get within range of an alien artifact that appeared to be 'on', the purpose of which was unknown. And because of that ignorance, Shepard was paying the price.

"I'm sorry I let you down, Commander," he said.

Shepard remained motionless on the bed.

Well, not completely motionless. He moved closer. She was shivering. Which wasn't surprising, given that she'd been stripped down to her small clothes and was only covered with a thin standard issue blanket.

He glanced around the floor, but didn't notice any extra fallen blankets that might account for the shift in temperature. So he raided the cabinets until he found an extra one and gently draped it over her, careful not to brush the sensitive tissue around the bruise forming on her chest where she'd taken the surprise sniper hit that'd had him practically shitting his pants with worry that he'd lost everyone on the team and would have to do it alone. If he could have done it alone. Probably not, judging from the resistance. They were lucky they'd encountered Williams when they had, as the extra backup had been vital for disarming the bombs.

His fingers brushed against a small metallic object, opposite her dogtags, as he ensured the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and, curious, he picked it up. It was an old-fashioned bolt-action rifle bullet, attached to a chain. He'd heard of some sniper superstitions, but this was a bit of an odd one considering they'd moved past conventional bullets half a century ago. Probably what she'd retrieved out of her case pre-mission, since he didn't recall seeing it on her before then.

He let it fall back to the bed.

Writing up Jenkins' Official Cause of Death - faulty shield generator, which resulted in a complete gear check of the entire stock of field supplies on the ship - ranked up there as one of the worst things he'd had to do. Jenkins had just been a kid. To die in action on your home planet... that was rough. But if there was any place a marine could choose to die, home planet was probably the best option. Defending the ones you love.

Alenko settled into the chair Doctor Chakwas had provided him earlier. This time, with no report to keep his brain engaged, and running on fumes as he was, he drifted off to sleep.

-O-

Alenko jolted awake, unsure what had disturbed him at first as nothing immediately presented itself. He could hear the telltale signs of Doctor Chakwas on the far side of the room, sitting at her terminal - but nothing she was doing was particularly loud. In fact, the Doctor's presence could easily go unnoticed.

He rotated to look at Shepard just as her hand flopped onto his shoulder, and a tiny groan escaped her lips. He was up faster than he could blink, her hand sliding off and thumping against the bed. Still not quite awake, not yet.

"Doctor Chakwas?" he cast a glance over his shoulder. "I think she's waking up."

He turned back to Shepard before he had a chance to see the Doctor rise, only hearing the scrape of her stool as she stood up.

The Commander's eyes were open, but bleary and unfocused, and her hand smacked into him again as she raised both hands to rub her eyes. He backed away from the bed a few steps as the Doctor scooted in on the other side, twisting displays and readying equipment for a check up.

Which should have been his cue to leave. Yet since the Doctor didn't say anything, he stayed put. Might as well see this through, and get the dressing down he deserved and sort of expected Shepard to give him out of the way. The last time his ass had been chewed out was nearly five years ago. He was long overdue.

Doctor Chakwas pressed a hand against Shepard's forehead. "You had us worried there, Commander. How are you feeling?"

Her response was a groan that shot a new wave of guilt straight to his gut.

The Doctor grunted as she pulled the blankets covering Shepard down to her waist while the Commander blearily sat up.

"Is it possible for your head to feel like a tennis ball?"

Doctor Chakwas arched an eyebrow. Alenko was rather confused himself.

"Care to clarify that one, Commander?"

"Don't 'Commander' me when I'm in my skivvies. It's weird." Shepard finally dropped her hands and opened her eyes completely. They immediately went wide as soon as she saw him standing near the foot of her bed. But she carried on with her explanation instead of remarking on his presence, shifting her gaze to the Doctor. "You know how tennis balls get whacked really hard and then whizz off at nearly the speed of light?"

Doctor Chakwas stared at her. "So you have a headache and feel a little dizzy."

"Bingo."

"Fortunately for you we stock high-end pain meds for just that sort of thing."

"Great. So." Doctor Chakwas whisked away to a med cabinet, grumbling about marines, and Shepard shifted her gaze to Alenko. "What the hell happened? Wait. How long have I been out, then the other one."

"Nearly fifteen hours," he replied. "The beacon on Eden Prime exploded. Unstable field, ancient artifact. Based on readings I managed to catch from my omni-tool, it appears to have been caused by a system overload. The thing couldn't take its own power. The blast threw you clear across the dock."

Shepard mumbled something he didn't catch and rubbed her shoulder.

"I had to carry you to the LZ while Williams coordinated the extraction."

"Did you run with urgency?"

Alenko nearly tripped over his own tongue, stammering out a yes, and Shepard's lips tugged towards a smile. When he finally found his mental footing, he continued, the Doctor returning with a sly grin of her own as she handed Shepard the pain meds. "I must have activated some sort of security protocol by getting too close. You were exposed to the field when you had to push me out of the way. Probably what set it off."

The hint of a smile dropped off Shepard's face in a flash.

"I didn't have to do anything. Would I have been remiss in my duties as the Commanding Officer of the ground team? Sure, but no one would have questioned me not leaping to your rescue in time to prevent you from suffering the consequences." She leaned forward, eyes intense. "The fact is no one could have known what would happen. We've never encountered a Prothean beacon before, nor do we know what the hell they do. It was fifty-thousand goddamn years old, so if you're expecting me to dress you down for my ass ending up on the line in place of yours when I made that call, you can march out of this medbay right now. It's not gonna happen."

Her hand dropped sharply from pointing at the door to the bed and Alenko stared at her dumbfoundedly. That wasn't the dressing down he'd expected, to say the least. He wasn't even sure if it counted as one. For one thing, she hadn't called him an FNG who needed to grab his head out of his own ass.

"Always exciting with N's in your medbay," Doctor Chakwas mused as she finished her med scans of the Commander. "Especially when you mix them with stubborn Lieutenants who stand vigil when their commanding officer does something stupid after said Lieutenant did something stupid."

Doctor Chakwas pointedly looked only at her med-scanner, examining the results. "I detected some unusual REM activity. Reviewing your helmet cam footage didn't reveal anything interesting, but perhaps you can shed some light on the issue."

Alenko perked up from leaning against the foot of the bed, embarrassment forgotten as Doctor Chakwas rotated a display and queued up Shepard's helmet cam footage from the mission.

Shepard's words were loud and clear as she communicated with Joker, Williams rounding into view. It wasn't until she rotated to fully to address the Chief that Alenko spotted himself, struggling against the beacon, just over Williams' left shoulder. That image lasted for only a split second as Shepard shoved the Chief out of the way and ran towards him, throwing him clear. His own footage would show his helmet cracking as a result, having hit the deck hard, his head bouncing with all the effectiveness of a bowling ball.

Shepard's cam, however, revealed very little. Except the keen mewling he'd vaguely heard as Williams held him back - only louder. A harsh, pitiful sound full of pain that triggered a level of anxiety in the back of his brain, escaping through the back of her throat. The almost scream ended abruptly and the view dropped back, undoubtedly signifying a loss of consciousness, a full ten seconds before the beacon exploded.

Alenko looked away, not eager to see his commanding officer thrown clear across the docking platform again. He heard but didn't see himself running up to her, shouting, 'Shepard!' before the Doctor cut the feed.

"I saw… something," Shepard offered into the silence that followed. "People getting slaughtered by synthetics. Ships? Lots of death. Felt like I was choking on it. I tried to scream."

During the mission, Shepard had come off a bit cold. Cold orders and a calculating perspective on what needed to get done. Prioritizing at its finest, and not something most people would be surprised to see coming out of an N. He'd been a little surprised if only because he had a chance to meet the woman first, without the veil of celebrity and everything that came attached to her name. And he'd liked it. The woman. She was warm if a little quiet. And not at all in line with image of Commander Shepard - until they'd hit dirt together.

But this? This quiet admission with a slight shake in her voice and an altogether different kind of chill? This was something else, and that unsettled him more than her words.

"Hmm," Doctor Chakwas set her datapad down on a nearby table, "I'll have to add that to my report. As far as I can tell, you're good to go, though I'm restricting you to light duty for the next 24 hours. Captain Anderson wants to see you as soon as you're dressed. I'll go ahead and let him know you're awake."

"Thanks, Doc," Shepard replied. After the Doctor had moved away a few steps, Shepard looked back at him. "You didn't march out."

Alenko shrugged. "You made some good points."

She smiled faintly at him and swung her legs over the edge. "Good."

"Oh, before I forget," Alenko opened the side pocket of his fatigues and retrieved the spotter's scope Shepard had given him for the mission, still tucked into its case. "I gathered the impression that touching the case was something I shouldn't do. Williams confirmed the impression. Said snipers were sticklers with their gear and then muttered something about superstitions and rituals."

He handed it to her and Shepard accepted it slowly. "Williams is aboard the ship then?"

"Yeah," he replied, "Orders came through the comm while we waited at the LZ for the Normandy. Captain Anderson finalized the transfer a couple of hours ago."

"Good," Shepard said, still looking at the scope in her hands, her expression thoughtful. "I worried about her."