When I opened my eyes, I saw snow.

I stared up at the trees above me as powdery flakes filtered down. One landed at the corner of my eye, and I flinched away as bitter cold radiated from it. The snowflake melted almost instantly, and the drop of water rolled into my eyelashes. I blinked several times to clear my vision, my view of the slate grey sky a series of snapshots as I did. Dark skeletal branches crisscrossed above me, like a sea of grasping hands, reaching out like they wanted to pluck some unfortunate bird from the sky.

The grey and white of the sky washed out the colors around the trees, turning the bark from brown to tar black.

I waited, trying to sort out the confusion in my head. Had I been dreaming ever since waking up aboard that nightmarish hive ship? Or was this the dream now?

I slowly sat up, pushing up with my elbows. Snow crackled and crunched under me as a I moved, echoing hollowly off the snow and bare trees. The reverberations came back to me from every direction, before fading into silence. As I looked around, the trees loomed, there bark seeming darker, more sinister than they had been a moment before. The clatter of branches rubbing together didn't break the silence so much as they accentuated it. That they seemed to be doing it all on their own without a trace of wind, or even a light breeze, just added to the creepy vibe.

"There is no wind in the Ways," I muttered to myself as I shivered. Whether it was from the discomfort of the surroundings or the winter cold, I couldn't' be sure. Either way, it was definitely time to leave.

The snow crunched again as I pushed myself to my feet, doing my best to make as little sound as possible. My hands, encased in impractical puffy gloves pressed into the snow as I levered myself to my feet. I stared at them a second. These gloves weren't the useful kind, that allowed you any mobility. These were the kind that made anything other than holding a shovel all but impossible.

That irritating fact now apparent, I took a second to examine the rest of my attire The coat was a dark blue and green one from high school. Brown coveralls protected my legs from the cold, and the same stupid boots I had been wearing for years covered my feet. Yay Napoleon Dynamite moon boots.

I'd worn worse ensembles, but I still looked a bit ridiculous. At least it wasn't the pirate Halloween costume from two years ago, complete with tights and foam sword.

I looked around, pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place as I examined my surroundings. My childhood home had been a mile and half outside of the town, and jammed into a densely wooded area with a few others houses. Aside from them and the farm machinery repair shop behind us, there simply wasn't much there. As I stood up, I could see the top corner of the house's roof.

"Lying in the snow at the bottom of the hill, behind the house. Cause that makes sense," I said to myself, dusting some of the snow from the jacket. This didn't feel like a dream either, but neither did waking up in the pod, really, so hell if I knew which was actually real.

I started to make my way back up the hill toward the house. I reached the top, pushing some of the tangle of dead limbs away as I did, and paused. Something felt off. Like when you watch a movie, and something happens and the audio and video become unsynced? You get that feeling something is amiss before you figure out what is happening. That's what looking at the house felt like. Something was wrong.

I noted a few more details as I made my way across the yard towards the house. Like how the only car in the driveway was mine. The silver Ford Focus looked desolate under the powdering of snow. The bird feeders that mom kept full through the winter made the yard feel barren and empty with their absence

I stopped at the halfway point, my gaze roving over the back of the house. All the windows were closed and the blinds pulled on both floors. Even the blind's on the back door had been closed, something mom never did.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. It felt just so very, very wrong. I crossed the last bit of distance and reached for the doorknob, but it turned before I could open it myself, and it swung inward, leaving me face to face with … Gabby?

"You're late," she said. Her eyes had sunk into her eye sockets, hollow and empty. Bruises covered one side of her face, and the bandages that wrapped her arm and leg had soaked through so much she left a bloody hand print on the white door frame, a bloody footprint on the rug. "They were all waiting for you."

I took two quick steps away from her as she raised one hand and pointed behind me, towards the yard. I twisted, trying to keep her in my line of sight, and still see what she was pointing at.

My family stood in a single row fifteen feet directly behind me, in the yard I had just crossed. Where I was dressed for the cold, they all were dressed for a Sunday church service. My younger brother, taller than me by a couple of inches, stared vacantly at me while his hand intertwined with April's, my sister-in-law. Mom and Dad stood in an identical pose. My skin crawled, goosebumps running up my arms. They looked like mannequins, not people.

The last figure in the line broke the pattern in more ways than one, and I froze in a mixture of emotions as I met Sylvia's blue-grey eyes.

Her white summer dress swayed in a breeze I couldn't feel. Her chestnut hair draped down over her shoulder, and a morning glory was tucked behind one ear, the flower in full bloom. She smiled sadly and extended her right hand to me, a gesture so familiar that it hurt. I took a reflexive step towards her, reaching to take her hand.

Gabby's fingers, still wrapped in bandages, grabbed my side, and a lightning bolt of pain blazed over me. I doubled over, clawing at her hand. Her raw, angry voice hissed into my ear, "You're too late." She squeezed down again on the spot the shrapnel had struck me, and the world vanished into white hot agony.

My eyes snapped open as my hip and side throbbed angrily, a thumping in time with my heartbeat. The ambient green glow from the control panels cast more shadows than illumination, but at least I could still discern outlines.

I looked down at myself in the dim. At some point, someone had taken my shirt, as well as my pants. My face burned at that, and I tried to not think about the fact that someone had stripped me down to my boxers.

On my right, Ken hadn't moved from his vigil, but had lost the battle against sleep. He sat with his good arm on the edge of Gabby's bed, his head lolled forward to rest against it.

I turned my gaze to Gabby and felt my throat close a bit. As nightmarish as Dream-Gabby had appeared, Real-Gabby had her beat in the injuries department. She lay unmoving, her face covered by an oxygen mask. Bandages covered her arm and leg, and her bruises looked black and ugly in the dim green light. Above her head, a heart monitor beeped it's constant rhythm.

A nasal rumble to my other side caused me to turn to look, but when I did, the heat in my side went nuclear. The blistering agony drove the air from my lungs, and the green glow of the console vanished entirely. I wheezed in a breath, my fingers tightening on the edge of the bed as I waited for the pounding to settle down to a dull throb again, for my vision to return.

Joker lay on my left, shirtless and snoring. He looked about half-way to starring in a role as a mummy, as bandages wound around his ribs, his hand and one of his forearms.

All in all, between the four of us, you could probably salvage one working human being.

"Somehow I doubt Dr. Chakwas would appreciate being cast as Dr. Frankenstein," I muttered to myself as I reached over and snatched the plain hospital pants and shirt someone had left next to the bed. I levered myself out of bed, and managed to dress myself in the teal pants and white shirt.

I didn't know the time, but it had to be late. As I left Medical behind me, I noticed the lights in the mess were dimmed. I glanced over and looked towards the crew quarters as my mind turned toward Kelly and Jenny. Both had been okay, at least physically. Emotional injuries though, were another matter. Emotional trauma never heals quickly. I leaned against the table, taking some of the pressure off my of my injured side and slowly looked over the mess.

I hadn't known Gardner, not really. Before yesterday, I barely even talked to him. He'd seemed nice enough, but I knew nothing about him. My grip on the back of the chair tightened. He didn't deserve what happened to him. None of them de

The hairs on the back of my neck rose slowly, and I felt my shoulders tighten. The room suddenly felt several degrees colder and I froze in place, trying to place the tension that gripped me.

"You aren't what you seem to be."

I turned to face the voice but I moved too quickly and my side lit up in a christmas tree of pain that nearly dropped me to the floor. I let out an involuntary hiss as the blaze of agony receded like an outgoing tide, and forced myself to straighten as I turned to face whomever had snuck up on me.

Commander John Shepard leaned against the wall, his expression assessing and calm. He'd traded in his dress uniform for the more usual fatigues and t-shirt the rest of the crew favored. "You aren't what you seem to be," he repeated.

No, I'm a twenty foot tall carnivorous dinosaur, that's what I am.

I jammed my sarcastic retort away. "What do you mean?"

He eyed me, looking up and down, from my bare feet to my face. "You aren't what you seem to be. I assumed you were just a lucky colonist at first, but you don't act like a civilian."

"Well, I've never been in the military if that's what you mean," I said as I looked him over in turn. Shepard looked as tired as I felt, and bore a slice under his right eye held closed by a butterfly bandage. The obvious fatigue didn't reach his eyes though, and the stare he leveled at me could have been used to sharpen bladed implements. "I've already heard what happened from the the others, but I want to hear your version," he said. "But I want you to tell me what you saw. What happened, as best you can remember."

"I didn't see much. It's all a blur, really." I said, and forced myself to focus on the haze of memories around the attack. "A car that exploded. It couldn't have been an accident, not the way the whole thing went up. When I came to, Gabby and … I don't know his name. Jenny's friend. They were both hurt. Kelly and Jenny were trying to keep him from bleeding out, Ken and Joker were trying to help Gabby." My stomach turned over, sloshing sullenly as I pictured Gabby's bloodsoaked form.

"Then this man stepped out. Gardner tried to get to him, to ask for help I think, and the guy just shot him. He started going towards Jenny and Kelly next, and I hit him. Garrus showed up and we got back here."

Shepard's brow came together. "And how did he not see you coming at him?"

Because I ran when people needed help.

My face started to heat up, and I looked away from him. "I was behind him. He was focused on everyone else, didn't see me coming till the last second."

In the corner of my vision, Shepard's face lost all expression as he regarded me. "I see. Do you know who was behind the attacks yesterday?"

Something in his tone set off warning bells in my mind, something dangerous. Like if I gave him the wrong answer, I wouldn't like the result. "No, I don't."

He didn't move, just kept staring at me. It made Garrus's hawk-like stare seem absolutely cuddly by comparison. "What do you remember about being taken by the Collectors?"

"… nothing before Miranda pulled me out of the pod," I said."Well, her and … Grunt?"

"Do you know why the Collectors took you?" He asked immediately, barely letting me blink.

"No, wh—"

"Are you a danger to this crew?"

"No, I'm not!" I snapped, my anger at his accusation cutting through the remains of my control for a brief second.

Shepard just watched me for a moment, considering his words. "Let me be very clear. I don't trust you. While I don't believe you chose it, I think the Collectors turned you into some kind of ticking time bomb. We just haven't found the trigger yet"

Anger bubbled up inside me at the accusation and my head snapped around so I could glare at him. "So why don't you just put me off somewhere then? Or leave me on Omega?"

"Because I'm not in the habit of leaving dangerous weapons laying around where anyone could be hurt by them. And Mordin and Chakwas might be able to help you." He said without even a hint of rancor. He crossed his arms, giving him the impression of an immovable rock.

"So, I'm a prisoner then." I said. I could feel my temper simmering, his suspicion providing it fuel. I had stitches from where someone had been forced to dig shrapnel out of my side, and now I was getting compared to being a bomb?

He frowned. "Not the words I would use. I'm not restricting where you go on the ship, or what you do here. But until we know more, I can't just cut you loose. If you go offship, I want someone to go with you, is the main thing."

I subsided at that, and reined in my temper. It wasn't an unreasonable precaution. I shifted so I could half-sit on the table edge. "I can't say I'm eager to go off on my own anyway. Not like I know anything about anything out here."

"True enough, I suppose." His omnitool beeped and he glanced down. "I have to go. Once Mordin and Chakwas have something, we'll talk again."

That apparently was the closest thing to a goodbye I was going to get, because he turned and headed back towards the elevator, leaving me alone again. I let out a long sigh, and shivered, feeling the tension drain out of me. That man made me nervous in way that I couldn't explain. Just the force of his personality alone made me feel small.

A woman's voice spoke quietly from behind me and nearly made jump out of my skin. "He can be really intense."

"God damn it." I growled as I turned to face Kasumi. "I'm getting so tired of people doing that."

Kasumi quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall in almost an exact mirror of the commander's stance just a moment before. She didn't look even the least bit apologetic. She also looked much better than she had the last time I saw her. Her arm wasn't in a sling anymore, and the dark, form-fitting clothing looked natural on her.

"And yes, he is. How long were you standing there?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "Long enough for most of it." She looked past, towards the windows for Medical. From this side, you couldn't really see anything there, but it wasn't hard to guess her lines of thought. "Why didn't you tell him the truth?"

"I did tell him the truth." I pushed myself away from my seat on the table and turned so I could see her without craning my neck.

She shook her head. "Not entirely. You didn't lie, but you didn't tell him all of it. Why?"

I didn't meet her eyes, focusing on the far wall instead. I could feel the shame from yesterday, the guilt, just as keenly as I had when it happened. I despised it. If I hadn't run, I might have been able to help them save Jenny's friend. If I hadn't run, Gardner might still be alive. My voice barely registered above a whisper when I did speak. "Because you were right about me. I am selfish. And I was afraid."

Her expression softened, and she looked down. "Maybe. I'm not so sure now."

"I ran," I snapped. I felt one of my knuckles pop as my hand tightened into a fist. "I left them."

"You came back," Kasumi countered. "And a lot of people wouldn't."

I didn't really have an answer for that.

Kasumi waited for a moment, shrugged and turned to leave. She stopped, her hand on the wall and turned back. "Just a thought. But you being there, probably saved Kelly and Jenny's lives. So that has to count for something."

A thought popped into my head. "Wait. Garrus said he was attacked as well. And Shepard had a cut under his eye. Was anyone else hurt? Or …."

Kasumi shook her head. "Some bruises, that's all. Whoever they were, they came after everyone. Even tried to board the Normandy."

"Something tells me that none of those went well for them."

"Nope," Kasumi said brightly. "I don't think they even got past the airlock."

My mind treated me to an image of getting blown out into space or explosively decompressed in an airlock. I shivered. That would not be a fun way to go.

"You should get back in bed. If Chakwas catches you up and about, you'll regret it," she said.

I nodded, and realized that between the two conversations, and my brief excursion from medical, suddenly I wanted nothing more than to do just that. I mumbled something that I hoped could be interpreted as "goodnight" to Kasumi and shambled back towards medical.

I probably could double as a zombie extra on "The Walking Dead."

I practically fell into bed on my good side, suddenly too tired to care about little things like blankets. Zombies don't need blankets, right?

Hey, I wonder how many seasons that had ….