In the Darkest Hour

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: I searched everywhere, and never found a suitable song for this one. If you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know!


Roughly three months from the day the Crucible had fired and destroyed the Reapers, Shepard sat in an ergonomic chair, dressed in a soft, loose-fitting hospital gown, staring out the small, square window at the planet below. She'd been told this was the only medical ship to have failed to jump at Hackett's retreat command, and which had also been just far enough from Earth's gravity well to avoid being sucked down when the Crucible had knocked out its engines.

It still wasn't running at a hundred percent, not by far. But it was a good deal better than most hospitals still left on Earth. As such, it was a veritable mass of activity, every room and hallway crowded with the injured and dying and sick. Shuttles outside zipped constantly back and forth, transporting more people and supplies from ship to ship, ship to planet, planet to ship.

The only refuge from the madness was this room. Her room. She had urged the doctors to use the space as they needed, and they had thanked her, but had not complied. They all treated her like a fragile china doll. Their eyes were wide with reverence and awe when they looked at her, but she sensed fear and doubt there as well. They walked on eggshells in her presence. Spoke to her as if she were a small child. She had a notion they all suspected she was unstable. Like she might explode at any second if mishandled.

Shepard released a slow breath through her teeth, one pale hand coming up to rub her forehead. Perhaps she would explode. Her fingers still trembled as they slid around to the back of her neck and brushed over her empty amp-jack. She had regained full consciousness weeks ago, but often it still felt as if she was living in a dream.

The edges of reality were foggy, but all the small, insignificant details abnormally sharp. The antiseptic smell, the microscopic scratches on the vitals monitor sitting in the corner. Shoe scuffs on the white of the floor, wrinkles in the bedsheets, the monotone of doctors in deep conversation as they briefly passed her closed door.

She felt like an outsider looking in, completely removed from everything happening around her. Her injuries had mostly healed, but she was still exhausted. Always tired. Her insides felt empty, wrung out, drained. She had nothing left. It was all gone.

When she had first heard the tale of how she'd been rescued from the Citadel, she hadn't believed it. Especially coming from Joker. But his story was verified by Wrex, and she hadn't been able to find the space station in the skies above Earth, nor had she seen any sign of the Normandy.

Joker had left his ship to go after her. Had almost died to save her.

And Traynor, Higgs, Marshall, Murtz and Ferguson were gone. Because of her. Five for one. Not right.

She dropped her head into her hands, feeling nauseous. She had never asked to be rescued. Never wanted it. She had been prepared to die, to sacrifice herself for the end of the cycle. It had been liberating, in that single second before she had stepped off into the light, to know she would be free, finally, from all the nightmares – the guilt and ghosts, the hard decisions, the desire to fix everything.

But instead, five people had died trying to save her. One had been severely injured. And another had carried her through the rubble for nine days straight to bring her as quickly as possible to medical attention.

Her eyes stung, but she had no more tears. She felt like Earth looked… wasted and gray, pock-marked and scarred, shrouded with fuming storm clouds. Vakarian's rifle and Vega's beloved Vera had been left in the wreckage of the gravcar. Her armor had been scrapped. The crew that been groundside was still mostly MIA, except for Liara, who had managed to visit once. Hackett only told her to get some rest and that the Normandy and the rest of the Fleet were whole and en-route, but he wouldn't elaborate on the condition of any crew.

Shepard glanced over her shoulder to the small table next to her bed, where the crystal Urdnot Bakara had given her sat. It was the only personal item she had left. She had carried it in one of her belt pouches every time she went into battle, to remind her of what Eve had said.

In the darkest hour, there is always a way out.

So many people looked to Commander Shepard for hope, but who did she have to look to?

The crystal was a symbol of hope, courage, determination, perseverance, strength… everything Shepard wanted to be. She carried it to help her remember.

Now, it seemed just a piece of pretty stone, the reflection of light in its facets dulled. The war was over. She should have been happy, relieved, grateful. Instead, she was simply… hollow. The whole world seemed dark, and she saw no way out.


Shepard awoke sometime later and groaned as she realized she had fallen asleep in the chair again. She grimaced at the crick in her neck, rubbing at the knotted muscles. She blinked the grogginess away and stretched, then slowly pushed herself standing. She didn't bother to look at the chronometer on the wall; time had little meaning for her anymore. She walked stiffly to the window; vague aches still shooting through her right thigh where the Marauder's rounds had buried. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, drinking in the vast expanse of space, ignoring the restless movements of the shuttles.

She sighed, her breath fogging briefly against the smooth pane.

A flash of blue caught in her peripheral vision. She frowned, turning her head to look down the length of the hospital vessel. One of the airlocks was visible from her vantage point and she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the sleek frigate nestled there, resplendent in its blue and gray Alliance markings. A rush of warmth spread through her limbs at its familiarity, and for the first time since waking up after the Citadel she felt alive.

Shepard spun away from the window, hobbling as quickly as she could manage to her door. She burst out into the hallway to the surprised starts and stares of several doctors, many nurses and even more patients. She clutched her gown around her and took off barefoot down the corridor, making straight for Joker's room.

She startled him too as she barged through the door, and everyone else the pilot had to share his space with. Even as the famous helmsman of the legendary Normandy, he was no Commander Shepard, and wasn't granted the luxury of a private room.

"Joker!" she blurted.

He stared at her, hazel eyes huge and worried as his skin paled beneath his now fully-grown beard. "What?!"

"She's here!" The words became strangled in her chest, making it difficult to speak.

"What?"

Shepard shook her head, limping over to the wall to unfold a wheelchair. She flung his tray of food to the floor and pushed away the bedside table.

"Hey, what the hell?" the man protested. "I was eating that!"

She pointed at the wheelchair, then grabbed hold of his arms and attempted to physically drag him out of bed. There had been a time when such a feat would have been as easy as lifting a child, but she had refused both food and physical therapy in the past three months and her clumsy effort almost sent both of them crashing to the floor.

"Hey hey! Take it easy!" Joker snapped. "I've had enough broken bones to last a lifetime, thank you. Don't get your knickers all in a knot –"

"The Normandy, Joker!" she finally managed, the urgency building inside of her until she felt the prickle of biotics across her skin. She ignored the open-mouthed gapes of the rest of the room's occupants and gestured wildly in the direction of the aft airlock. "She's here!"

Joker's mouth snapped shut with a click, his eyes becoming sharply focused. "Well why didn't you say so in the first place?" He slid deftly into the seat of the wheelchair and pointed at the door. "Okay let's go. Mush!"

Shepard took them both down the winding corridors of the massive vessel, following the markings along the walls for guidance. With all the commotion, she got much further along than she had expected before she was recognized and intercepted. They tried to block her path, to tell her she shouldn't be up and about, much less shambling along at that speed pushing a wheelchair, but she only clenched her jaw and barreled right past them.

They followed after her, still voicing their protests, but none was willing to lay a hand on her. The blue-black distortion of her biotic field rippled weakly across her skin, a fair enough warning that she wouldn't be stopped. They didn't have to know her amp-less biotic ability wasn't likely to hurt them much. Joker added to their hesitation by boisterously warning that everyone get out of their way, because Shepard had stared down a thresher maw and a Reaper face to face and lived to tell about it. And they didn't want to piss off someone like that, did they?

They had almost reached the airlock when a lone figure stepped out into the hall, blocking their path.

Shepard prepared to bully past this person as she had the others, but at the last minute recognition dawned and she pulled up short just before bumping into Chakwas' shins.

The gaggle of concerned medical professionals behind them stopped as well, suddenly falling silent.

Joker looked up to the gray-haired woman standing with arms crossed and eyes narrowed and swallowed hard. "Uh-oh."

Shepard met the doctor's cool blue eyes, her mouth falling open to ask the question that had been burning in her mind since she'd found out she wasn't dead, after all.

But Karin already knew what Elizabeth would ask. She gave the smallest of nods and pointed to a room across the hall.

And suddenly, Shepard was afraid. She gripped the handles of the wheelchair to keep herself from falling, her palms sweaty. Her heart pounded in her throat, her chest constricting to squeeze out every hard and gasping breath. She stared at the closed door. Forced her fingers to unclench. Took one, stiff step forward.

"What about my ship?" Joker demanded. "I want to see my ship!"

"I'll take you," Chakwas said softly. She wheeled him away toward the airlock, leaving the group of nurses and technicians staring after her.

Shepard focused only on the door. The rest of the ship and everyone on it faded away. Her heartbeat echoed in the silence that roared in her head. She stared at the control panel. One touch and it would open. She would see him again, finally. Confirm that he still lived. Embrace the future they could have together – the future she had so desperately ached for and yet always believed was just out of reach.

One touch and she would open herself up again. Become vulnerable to loss and hurt again.

The war is over.

But the fight for survival had just begun.

He's worth it.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and pushed the button.


Kaidan turned his head sharply at the bare whisper of the opening and closing of the door. His sense of hearing and touch had become considerably more attuned in the last few months, but not being able to see much beyond fuzzy gray shapes was still disorienting. Chakwas had assured him the damage was repairable, as long he didn't mind a little cybernetic work.

The talk of cybernetics had just reminded him of Shepard, and his heart shoved up his throat. She was on this ship somewhere, they'd told him. He could see her soon enough, but they wanted to get him into surgery as soon as possible… the longer they waited for the skin grafting and retina rebuilding, the harder the recovery.

He watched the dark shape of the person moving across the room, but they said nothing. He squinted instinctively, to no avail. "Hello?" he asked tentatively into the quiet. "Who is it?"

Another long silence stretched through the room and a touch of concern crawled through his gut.

"Kaidan," a voice suddenly whispered, breaking. A voice he would have recognized anywhere.

Goosebumps raced down his skin and his mouth dropped open, words utterly failing him. And then she was on top of him, arms wrapped tight around his neck, clutching him to her with all the strength she had left.

An unidentifiable noise escaped him; his arms wrapped her in a crushing hold, his face buried into the crook of her neck.

Shepard couldn't stop the tears and barely noticed the wetness soaking into the shoulder of her gown. She breathed in his smell, reveled in the feel of his skin against hers, the coarseness of his stubble on her cheek, the feel of his hair beneath her fingers.

"Goddamnnit," he rasped gruffly, finally, pulling back from her to study her face with sightless eyes. His cheeks were wet with tears. "Never again, do you understand me? Never leave me again. Promise me… never again!"

Elizabeth took his hands in hers and gripped them hard, leaning down to plant a kiss that tasted of their tears. "I promise," she whispered against his lips. "I promise, Kaidan. Never again."


THE END.


A/N: Thanks everyone for all the readership and favorites and follows and all the love for my fanfics, I really appreciate it! You make it all worthwhile! ;) Come talk writerly things with me at Jennifer R. Frontera on Facebook or jayaevenstrider on LiveJournal! See you there!