Author's Note: Sorry, for the short chapter!

Beep! … Beep! … Beep! … Beep! …

That sound… I know it… She thought groggily.

Beep! … Beep! … Beep! … Beep! …

She felt as though her brain had melted into mush. The moment she thought a thought, it appeared to vanish into the ethereal. Somewhere in her fog-filled head, she acknowledged that this sound was important… and yet, she was frustrated by the fact that she could not put meaning to this obscure noise. What the hell did beep, beep, beep mean? Cars. Cars? Cars beeped, right? No. That wasn't right. The pitch was all wrong. Too high. Shrilly. And hold the phone! They didn't make cars with horns in space. Cars only had horns on Earth where automation hadn't yet take hold.

Earth. She was from Earth. Right? Right. Was she on Earth now? No. She moved… she… was moved… to… goddamnit, where the hell did she live?

Beep! … Beep! … Beep! … Beep! …

No. 'Where did she live' was not the important question. Where the hell was she? That was the question—and—and! Who was going to turn off that fucking god-forsaken beeping? It was maddening! It was hard enough for her to think through this mud without the cries of some infuriating machine!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

It was only with the increase in the beeping's rate that it hit her—an electrocardiograph. She was listening to a beating heart.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Her next major revelation came shortly after.

She was a doctor. If she was hearing the bleating of an ECG, then she must be near a patient. But… unless, the patient was a salarian, that heart rate was racing far too quickly. Sinus tachycardia? Or, was it bradycardia? That always tripped her up in undergrad…

It dawned on her that she needed to pull her head out of the gutter. She had to fight through this fog so that she could attend her patient's needs (though, frankly, she could not recall actually having a patient). Someone out there needed her, and it was her duty to answer the call.

She opened her eyes. Or rather, she attempted to open her eyes. She felt resistance to the movement, as though the delicate lids had been pumped full of lead. Fruitlessly, she attempted to rock herself into a sitting position, but found that the same, cumbersome sensation had spread throughout the entirety of her body. This wasn't good. She had to take care of her patient. They needed her. If only she could get her limbs to… to…

Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!

She didn't have any patients. She was the patient.

Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!

She didn't recall being sick. But… damnit! Now that she attempted to recall information, she couldn't even remember who she was.

Then, someone spoke, "Her… rate… accelerating."

The voice was distant, garbled. Not only were the words difficult to distinguish, but it sounded entirely as though they had been speaking from unfathomable depths. Her mind felt like soup. The intricacies of the voice were lost upon her. She couldn't determine just what the voice was: male or female? Human or alien? Young or old? Familiar or unrecognizable?

Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!

"…Care…. it... Pay you… off your ass." This was a second voice. The dilemma that plagued the first voice carried over to this new one. Somehow, she knew that the words were being spoken by two different voices, but if you asked her how she knew, she wouldn't have been able to say.

"She… awareness. Conscious…" Answered a third.

Pain! There was a sharp, acute pain in her abdomen. It stabbed somewhere in the hypogastric region, a handful of centimeters below her navel. Whatever had her brain so addled did little to stem the red-hot agony that she now felt. The sharpness glided across her abdomen in a parade of pain. Small, shallow strokes. Slice. Slice. Slice. Each bite brought to life a bubbling warmth that gurgled momentarily in the dip before sliding across the plain of her stomach and down her sides. Drip, drip, drip, went the warmth.

With the dichotomy of the warmth against her frozen skin, she became aware of how cold she was. Not only could she not move her extremities, but they were so cold that they felt as though they had been lopped off.

"Stop," She attempted to whisper. She went ignored. Or perhaps, it was only in her head that she was actually speaking. No one seemed to hear her.

"Please," She begged pitifully as the intensity of the pain began to increase. She wanted to scream. To cry. To plead. It was too much. She felt movement, pressure. Digging. Pulling. Ripping. Tearing her in two. She felt it. Every. Single. Sensation.

"Help… help me." She pleaded weakly.

But really, who could help her? Wrex was on Tuchanka. John was dead… who would care enough about a disgrace such as her? She was nothing more than a shell of her former self. She was worthless. She was… was… no. She was loved. She was more than just the Huerta incident. She was more than just Commander Shepard's sister. She had a light—a light at the end of the tunnel. She had an angel. An Archangel.

Her Archangel would never allow this to continue. He would rescue her. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he would fight to protect her, just as she had done for him so long ago.

She wiggled her finger. Nothing. She gave the gesture another attempt and… success! One of her digits twitched. If she could… just… flex… activate her omni-tool.

A hand slammed down on her palm, an ache blossoming where she had been struck, "What asshole… think to remove… She's smart… idiot… need Aria to come… like a bullet in the head... Whole station… find her."

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP.

She wanted to whimper, to curl away from the jagged punishment that had yet to cease… but, her limbs were no longer hers to command. The rocketing of her heart rate only amplified the sensations.

All she needed was to contact Archangel. He would save her. He would shoot these people for harming her, holding her captive, torturing her. Then, he would carry her far, far away. And she would be safe. Safe…. Safe…

"You!" The second voice shouted, annoyed. "Take… it. Make sure… stays alive. No good… us.. dies… still need her."

"Give… another dose." Said the first voice. She felt a pressure on her left arm. Someone was rotating it, pressing something stiff against the soft flesh.

"Idiots… they still want her alive… don't fuck… again."

BEEPBEEPBEEP

Beep!Beep!Beep!...

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Beep!... Beep! … Beep!

Back into the ethereal, she unwillingly went, knowing full well that Archangel would never come. Emma Shepard fell into unconsciousness cold, in excruciating agony, and hopelessly alone.