"Wait, let me get this straight," Alenko glared from Miranda to Dr. Chakwas. "She's capable of being awake…but you want to put her into an induced coma?"

Miranda's blue eyes narrowed, not liking her prerogatives questioned.

"Alenko, you know very well that anesthetics are finicky. We've done what repairs we could with local anesthetics, but for some of these procedures—"

Miranda had less patience than Dr. Chakwas. She walked over to Shepard and whipped the sheet back, revealing the gruesome patchwork of bruises, medigel, bandages, the places where needles fed into her. "Do you want her to keep waking up like this? Do you want her to be awake for a short span of time knowing she'll have to be put under again for repairs? Or would you rather get the worst of it out of the way in what will, to her, be one hit and spare her all that?" She flicked the sheet back into place.

Alenko swallowed hard. The biggest problem was the number of broken bones. Medicine could do a lot where breaks were concerned, but when there were so many…

"What if she doesn't wake up again?" he asked softly, regarding Shepard's battered face.

"I've seen her hurt worse and recover," Miranda said simply.

Alenko gritted his teeth, remembering a small voice: if there's a future, I can't see it. All I see are the Reapers and if we win there's this big blank…everything ends with them, one way or another…

He'd gathered her close, whispered a rosy future that ignored the fact that Earth and everywhere else would be ravaged and hardly in a condition for any of his daydreams. But it had been enough: she didn't need concrete plans. She had needed to know that someone could see into the great emptiness that victory represented. He'd told her a fairy tale, and she'd been comforted—not that he had no intention of trying to recreate as many of those rosy scenarios as he could.

But none of it could happen until she was mended. And Miranda was right. Shepard hated anything that took her out of control and anesthetics were probably high on her list of things to avoid. She hated doctors and scientists and being injured…it was a big, long list of things she would struggle with and against.

"…I can come see her, right?" he asked softly.

There was a pause of nonverbal communication between the two women. "Every day if you like," Miranda said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. "But I don't think you hanging around all day every day will be good for either of you."

He had to accept that. After all, when he'd been laid up Shepard hadn't visited every day, even when she'd been on the station to do it. She'd given him space…and from what he understood, she'd had trouble with visits while he wasn't home—so to speak—to acknowledge them.

"…take care of her. Whatever you've got to do." The words came out through a constricted throat.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, then disappeared. "Like she was family," Miranda promised.

Alenko nodded. He stayed long enough to find an unbruised portion of Shepard's face to kiss before leaving the medbay. The sooner they started, the sooner they could finish.

-J-

Alenko dropped onto the couch in the loft, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees, his knotted fingers digging into his forehead. It was hard not to pay attention to the fear lurking in the periphery of his mind: what if she died? He'd gone through it once and wasn't sure he could do it again…not when it was all over!

He tried and failed to keep his breathing from becoming erratic and shuddering. He couldn't lose her. Not again. Not now.

It was over, dammit!

It was supposed to be over. No more Cerberus, no more Reapers. She could set her burdens down. Granted, she would find new ones, but nothing, nothing could be as heavy as the one she no longer needed to bear.

He looked helplessly around the Loft, his eyes lighting on the bear she'd named Paddington. He picked the creature up, regarding its large, empty eyes. Thane had helped him pick it out what seemed eons ago, because they'd both agreed that Shepard needed something soft that she could hold onto when the darkness and silence pressed, when she felt lost or small or alone. Things she would never admit to feeling.

He'd never asked if Paddington fulfilled its duty in that regard; he had almost forgotten about the bear, once the bear stopped appearing on Shepard's pillows. She'd had him. She hadn't needed the bear.

It suddenly stuck him that repairing Shepard's body might be the easy part. She was physically shattered, some might use the word 'ruined.' If not for the Cerberus cybernetics, she'd have been killed outright…

…and he had once questioned her likeness to a husk. That thought, which chilled him now, would surely come back up in the back of her mind if nowhere else. That had been her concern the first time they were together—did she feel real? She hadn't been sure she wanted to hear the answer, for fear the answer would end up being 'no,' followed by repulsion. It had been in her voice and in tiny tells.

Forewarned was forearmed. It was his screw-up and he'd fix it. Nothing done to her couldn't be mended. He had to believe that, because if he didn't she wouldn't. And if she couldn't believe that…outlook was such a part of recovery….and she had so far to go…

Alenko pulled Paddington to his chest, tucking the bear under his chin. He would take the bear to her, once Dr. Chakwas and Miranda had gone as far as they could go for now. If Shepard woke up while he wasn't there…well. Paddington had been a proof that he'd been thinking of her. Why couldn't he be so again?