Author's Note: Please note this chapter is a little unusual in the lineup in the sense that it actually features a bit of medical talk, re: insomnia.
Slower chapter than a number previously, though in my defense, I've been feeling rather sickly lately.
Shepard looked at her mug with glassy eyes, not really seeing the steam slowly rising from the tea, her hands clasped around the ceramic tightly.
She'd been at it for three hours, tossing and turning, staring at the walls, facedown into her pillow, examining the insides of her eyelids.
Sleep was… unpleasant, to say the least, as was the process of getting to sleep, leaving her mind free to wander and ruminate, not in frantic leaps, but in slow movements with the inertia of a freight train - slow, steady, but altogether unstoppable, keeping her up far past her attempts at a self-imposed bedtime.
In Mordin's absence, she'd started trying numerous things to help her sleep schedule. Screen limits. Routine mealtimes, routine bedtimes, routine waking times - or so she tried. Calm music. Ambiance. Clichés - counting sheep.
She counted her breaths instead - slow, steady inhales, in and out. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out, hold it, breathe in… each one a reminder to aching lungs.
"Shepard!" Silent electric arcs - until the vibrations from the ensuing explosions reached her suit, reverberating in a way that only the sharp dropoff of sound pressed against a vacuum could. The hiss of air as it left her suit, the pressure - or, rather, lack of - pulling at her, making her fit uncomfortably within her own skin, as her tongue began to prickle with evaporating moisture -
Fifteen… sixteen… seventeen… eighteen. Shepard continued counting her breaths, taking them in fully, inhaling until her lungs ached, then slowly exhaling through pursed lips, eyes staring through the faint tendrils of steam - fading quickly as the tea cooled - and absently adjusted her grip.
Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.
"Shepard!" Explosions in space, the Normandy on fire, turned into trees, turned into a forest. An Escher painting gone mad - or perhaps just a mindless ruse invented by her subconscious; either way, the faster she ran, the slower she went, and the further away he seemed, even as bright flames burst from underneath her quarry's feet.
Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.
Blackness. Not the absence of a dream - just the absence of content. Emptiness. Nothingness. She'd mistaken it for dreamless sleep, but there were only so many times one could wake up in a cold sweat, remembering not nothing, but only void, and still deny its presence.
There was a dark mass next to her - someone had sat down. Shepard barely registered them, still focused: twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.
The void wasn't new, but her recognition of it was. The idea that a dream - a nightmare - could consist of solely nothing felt a little paradoxical, but, her mind rationalized, she'd spent a fair amount of time dead - perhaps that was the result. Memories of nothing. Of blank, formless space - a sensory vacancy, a gaping hole only defined by its edges, only defined by its proximity to other things.
Small hands tugged at her mug; she relinquished it without much protest, only to have it thrust back into her hands a moment later, warmed and comforting.
She raised her eyes, and slowly fixated on her guest, who said nothing, and merely nursed their own cup of tea.
Finally, Shepard spoke, her voice thin and hoarse. "Hey."
Dr. Chakwas glanced up from her own mug, eyeing Shepard past a stray lock of silver hair. "Hello."
Shepard cleared her throat, trying to clear her mind as well, and took a sip of her newly-warmed tea. "Bit surprised to see you up."
The doctor shrugged smoothly, and glanced back down - she was holding a display in her other hand. "I was preoccupied with something." She gave the commander a slight, wry smile. "You're not the only one who keeps odd hours."
Shepard didn't reply immediately, lowering her head to stare into her cup of tea again. "Can you tell me what you're doing up, or is it patient confidentiality?"
"Partly yes, partly no." Dr. Chakwas fixed her gaze on Shepard again, eyes narrowed. "Someone else requested my help with something, and I happened to notice you here."
Shepard's eyes flicked in the direction of life support; if Dr. Chakwas noticed, she didn't comment. "Pure concern for your commander?"
"Something like that." She took another sip of tea, then leaned back and examined her display; then, apparently satisfied, she set it aside. "I know you've mentioned trouble sleeping. You looked… distressed."
"It's nothing," Shepard said automatically, only to wince as Dr. Chakwas immediately made a displeased noise.
"If it's nothing, then why aren't you asleep?" the doctor asked, though not unkindly, settling one hand on Shepard's arm.
Shepard's grip on the mug tightened. "It's…" Nothing. Nothingness. Empty. Void. Headaches. Exhaustion. Fire, painted on the insides of eyelids. Silence - save for the hiss of a spacesuit, wrapped around her like a shell, failing ever so slowly. Counting breaths. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one.
"Commander?"
Shepard twitched, and she yelped as the tea spilled over onto her fingers.
Dr. Chakwas was quick to slide the mug away - not too far, but far enough that Shepard wouldn't accidentally hit it. "Commander? Can you tell me what's going on?"
Shepard looked at her, eyes glazed. "I'm just tired. I'm - " I'm what? Exhaustion doesn't seem to cover it any more. Sleep doesn't work.
Dr. Chakwas was saying something. Shepard did her best to tune back in.
"What?"
Dr. Chakwas frowned. "This seems a little more than tired, Commander."
"Yeah, I just, um…" Shepard stumbled over her words. "Haven't been sleeping well. You know."
"Is that all?" Dr. Chakwas was still frowning, her brow furrowed, the low lighting of the galley throwing the lines of her face into sharp relief.
"It's - " The words caught in her throat; she inhaled again, deliberately, feeling the air press against her lungs, reminding her once again - you're alive, you survived -
Warm fingers on her own brought her marginally back to the present, guiding her hand back to the mug of tea, the ceramic warm under her skin. "Slowly," the doctor commanded as she jerked the mug across the table toward her; Shepard complied, sliding the mug more slowly. "Focus on that for a moment, all right?" she added, and stood.
Shepard dully tried to direct her senses at the mug - the scratched exterior underneath her nails, the heat radiating weakly through the material.
Dr. Chakwas returned a moment later, and gently tugged Shepard's sleeve. "May I try something?" A slow nod; Dr. Chakwas took Shepard's hand and held it palm-up. "This will be cold," she warned, then waited a moment before dropping something into her palm.
"Oh." There was a bright burst of attention; the mug of tea dropped off Shepard's mental radar in favor of the new sensation, as if her senses had rushed over to crowd around her hand. She blinked, fingers closing around the object, feeling the cold bite into her skin, until it prickled in a way that bordered on uncomfortable. "Ice?" Her eyes roved around the galley, as if absorbing the information anew, then settled on the doctor's own eyes.
"Plain ice cube." Dr. Chakwas slid a napkin under Shepard's hand, and Shepard was acutely aware of the rougher texture in contrast to the smooth tabletop.
"Why?" she asked blankly, though she didn't relinquish the ice cube, and instead rolled it around between her fingers.
"Oh, it's an old trick," Dr. Chakwas said airily, "though not an unreliable one. Helps to narrow the senses a little, or provide a safe jolt to pull you out of your own head, if that makes any sense."
"I'm… not sure," Shepard said uncertainly, staring down at the melting ice cube as water dripped onto the napkin through her clenched fist. "Out of your own head?"
Dr. Chakwas leaned forward, maintaining her relaxed air, though her eyes were narrower than usual with concern. "You seemed distant."
Shepard continued to stare down at her hand, the ice beginning to make her palm ache - though the galley wasn't slipping away to be replaced by stars, or worse, emptiness, so she held the ice firmly. "I'm tired," she mused aloud. "I… I haven't been sleeping well." She winced. "Or much at all."
"Tiredness combined with stress can trigger further problems - a feeling of disconnectedness, distance, or dissociation."
"Mm." Shepard didn't really have a response to that, so she said nothing, slowly turning the ice cube over between her fingers again.
Dr. Chakwas remained quiet as well, continuing to sip her own cup of tea and occasionally flick her datapad display.
"Am I okay?" The words were out before she could quite stop them.
Dr. Chakwas took a long breath in. "I'm not sure I can be the one to determine that," she said slowly. "You tell me." She set her mug on the table with a soft click, soon followed by her display, and leaned forward. "How are you feeling?"
"Do you have to ask?" Shepard muttered, wriggling her fingers around her own mug, then taking a sip, savoring the spicy, sweet taste of the cinnamon.
"Yes, because I'm not in your head," Dr. Chakwas answered practically.
"Mm," Shepard grunted.
Dr. Chakwas sipped her tea.
Shepard suddenly held a hand out. "Are you busy on that thing?"
"What?"
Shepard pointed to the display. "You busy?"
Dr. Chakwas blinked. "Not very."
"Mind if I - ?" At her prompting, Dr. Chakwas closed the window and handed the display over, and Shepard busied herself flicking across the various user servers. "And I don't know. Kinda feel like I'm on autopilot most of the time."
Dr. Chakwas nodded, brow still furrowed. "What happens when you try to fall asleep?" she wanted to know. "Oh dear." She glanced at the display, which Shepard had handed back to her; there was a chess board shown across its screen in garish orange.
"Don't like chess?"
"I'm not very good at it, I'm afraid, but I'll play along." The older woman reached out slowly and slid a pawn forward, then Shepard did the same.
Shepard shrugged. "I lay down and it's like my mind won't shut up."
"Racing thoughts?"
"No, it's pretty slow. Just… unstoppable."
"Mm." Dr. Chakwas slid another pawn forward. "Do you lay in bed for a while?"
"Sometimes. Mordin told me a while ago it's not good to do that for more than about half an hour, though, so if I can't get to sleep, I'll sometimes go do something else."
"He's right about that," she commented. "I suppose that's partly where you two get your late-night talk habits from." She smiled.
Shepard chuckled and moved a bishop instead, lancing across the board until it faced the opposing king. "Yeah. That, and the man never sleeps."
"Salarians," Dr. Chakwas said in agreement, moving a pawn forward to block Shepard's bishop; Shepard moved the bishop back one space, and Dr. Chakwas moved another pawn forward, chasing it. "Do your chats help?"
"Sometimes." Shepard moved a pawn of her own forward as a deterrent from the bishop, forcing Dr. Chakwas to leave that edge of the board in favor of the other side. "Chess helps, actually."
"Hence the current game." One more pawn was slid forward. "I suppose it's a decent enough distraction, though I'd prefer it done without a screen."
"Don't have a board," Shepard said airily, jumping a knight over her row of pawns; Dr. Chakwas shifted her queen forward in anticipation. "Maybe I'll have to be on the look-out for one."
"Until then, there's filters you can place over the screens." Dr. Chakwas picked up the display, flicked a few settings, and set it back down; the light was noticeably redder and duller. "Blue light wakes you up more."
"Huh." Shepard considered the board for several moments, then slowly moved a pawn out of the way of her rook.
"Have you noticed anything else that helps?" The older woman frowned before moving her bishop one space.
"Mm." Not sleeping in my cabin. She moved her knight again, threatening Dr. Chakwas' bishop, which was quickly moved back to its original space.
"Is that a yes, or no?"
"It's a maybe." She moved the knight again rather absently. "It's… complicated."
"Is it something I might be able to help with?" Ever concerned, Dr. Chakwas folded her hands in her lap after making her move.
"Dunno." She reached out to poke the knight again, then winced. "Are we playing touch-rule?"
"What?"
She gestured to the board. "You know. Where you have to move a piece if you touch it."
"I don't see why it matters."
Shepard quickly moved her rook instead.
"What else is keeping you from sleeping?"
Shepard winced again. "It's… complicated," she repeated as they continued to play. "It's not really easily fixed."
"Many sleep problems fit that," Dr. Chakwas pointed out.
Shepard groaned. "It's not really something I want to get into right now," she finally stated, then cursed quietly as Dr. Chakwas swept her knight off the board. Belatedly, she captured the offending pawn.
"If you like. You know I won't press." Dr. Chakwas had begun to arrange pawns around her queen on the side of the board; Shepard squinted.
"I thought you said you weren't good at this," she accused, drawing a laugh from the other woman.
"I'm not, generally. But, you think you're the only one who plays chess with the professor?" she asked, eyes twinkling. "Use those critical thinking skills. Or did you want me to play easy?"
Shepard eyed her warily and slid a pawn forward, hoping to entice the opposing pawn guard away from the queen; Dr. Chakwas sidestepped the ploy and moved a knight to reinforce the small guard instead, and Shepard stuck her tongue out. "Hey, I've got a question."
"Go ahead." Shepard finally moved her own queen; without much to do, Dr. Chakwas shifted a rook at the very back of the board.
"Mordin mentioned, um… something to help me sleep." She winced.
Dr. Chakwas didn't flinch, however. "He mentioned it somewhat vaguely to me," she admitted. "Patient confidentiality and all that. What do you think?"
Shepard blinked, not expecting the question to be turned back around on her so quickly. "What do you mean?"
"Would you feel comfortable with that?"
"I mean, I need sleep." She stared at the board pensively as another few moves were made. "Don't I?"
"You do, but not everyone is comfortable with assistance - and given your line of work, some safeguards would have to be put in place."
Shepard grimaced. "Safeguards?"
"Common side effects include drowsiness. Not a good thing to mix with weaponry," she said pointedly, capturing Shepard's pawn with her queen. Shepard made a face and moved a pawn, again trying to entice the opposition; Dr. Chakwas instead darted the queen down to face Shepard's king squarely. "Check."
"Ugh." Shepard hastily moved the king, then glanced warily at her opponent, ignored the pawn that Dr. Chakwas subsequently captured, and slid her queen down instead. "What kind of safeguards are we talking about?"
"Nothing restrictive," Dr. Chakwas assured her, busying herself with methodically wiping out Shepard's presence on the upper left quarter of the board. "Just making sure mission times and schedules don't overlap with when you're supposed to be asleep."
Shepard quickly moved her queen across the bottom of the board, capturing Dr. Chakwas' queen. "A-ha. And what if there's an emergency?"
"Mm." Dr. Chakwas frowned at the board, then captured another pawn. Shepard almost immediately captured it with a lone knight, then drummed her fingers on the tabletop. "I'd prefer to not put you on such a heavy dose that you're unable to function if we need to wake you. There are certain other medications - not for everyday use, mind you, but safe enough to use in a pinch - that could either counteract it or flush it out."
They continued the game, neither losing nor winning. "You think it's worth a shot?"
"Mordin seems to think so. He's not your primary physician, but he does know you quite well, and I trust his opinion." She tilted her head to the side. "His suggestion isn't what I'd first go to, but again, I trust his opinion, and it's not one I'm so against that I'd discard it altogether."
"Why's that?" Shepard prepared to capture Dr. Chakwas' knight, but was forced to move her own as the doctor began setting up an offensive on the other side of the board.
"It tends to have a heavier sedation effect the next day, but he has a point that its uses tend to be a little wider than solely for sleep."
"It does?"
"Mm." They battled over Dr. Chakwas' knight for a few moves before coming away with Shepard having lost a bishop, Dr. Chakwas having lost the knight. "It has been prescribed - though with varying success - for post-traumatic nightmares, as well."
Shepard's hand paused for a fraction of a second over the board before she resumed playing, moving a rook directly across from her opponent's king. "Ah."
"He hasn't told me anything," Dr. Chakwas said quickly, shifting in her seat and moving her king. "He wouldn't - you aren't his patient, but either way, you are his friend, and he respects your privacy." She inhaled through her nose, then exhaled, and took a sip of her almost-forgotten tea.
"You just guess that, then?" Shepard muttered before Dr. Chakwas could say anything else, and the other woman pressed her lips together.
"It doesn't take rocket science to figure you've been through a lot," the doctor told her, though her tone was soft.
Shepard found herself resenting that tone, and she moved her queen around her remaining pawns, opting for a more aggressive approach. "As if I'm soft."
"I never said that," Dr. Chakwas told her firmly as they chased each other around the board. "You aren't the only one trying to figure out how to deal with aftermath."
Shepard bit her lip and moved her queen again, following Dr. Chakwas' king at a safe distance. "Yeah."
"Besides. Softness isn't a derogatory trait." She flicked her king once more, trying to move it away from Shepard's approaching rook. "You should know that."
Shepard stared at the board for a moment before moving her other rook - the one Dr. Chakwas wasn't focused on. "Check mate."
Dr. Chakwas blinked, then examined the board. "Well done."
Shepard wasn't listening. "Can I ask you another question?" she asked slowly.
"Of course."
"Do you get nightmares about the Collectors?"
Dr. Chakwas' hand twitched, and quickly, she tried to smooth her expression. For a split second, Shepard was convinced she saw the lines around the other woman's eyes deepen as her expression tightened; then the expression was gone, replaced by a clinical curiosity. "I'm managing," she said. "I doubt it would be very professional of me to - "
"Dr. Chakwas - " Shepard winced; the formality of her address felt pointed compared to her next words. "I'm asking as a friend, not a patient."
"You don't stop being my patient outside of office hours," the doctor stated dryly.
"That's not the point." A memory rose: Point is, nightmares not stupid. Mordin's words came back to her as if from another lifetime. "Mordin once told me everyone gets nightmares sometimes." She paused, fingers rubbing the wet napkin still on the tabletop absentmindedly. "It… actually helped."
Dr. Chakwas observed her with an odd expression. "Really, now." She glanced at her tea and took a hesitant sip, then winced at the lukewarm temperature. "I'm glad it helped."
"Point being, it's not going to shatter the sky if you tell me you've had a nightmare before, too," Shepard told her.
Dr. Chakwas let out a long sigh before standing, picking up her mug. "It wouldn't be professional of me."
"You're not saying no, though," Shepard pointed out as Dr. Chakwas reluctantly stuck her mug into the microwave.
Dr. Chakwas' back was turned, so Shepard couldn't see her face, but her tone was unusually flat. "Please don't press the issue, Commander."
You and Mordin both. "Still won't call me by name?" is what she said instead, and Dr. Chakwas gave a wry chuckle as the microwave beeped.
"I've already explained that to you, my dear," she remarked as she removed the microwaved tea and took a hesitant sip. "Ah, well, it's sufficient."
"Oh, but my dear is fine," Shepard retorted good-naturedly. "What, the microwave not do it for you?"
"It doesn't heat it evenly," she sniffed, and sat back down. "But it's better than cold tea, I suppose."
Shepard met her eyes and, with a deadpan expression, drank the rest of her own cooled tea in one go.
Dr. Chakwas made a noise of indignance. "Well, Commander," she said flatly, and Shepard snorted.
"You're welcome to call me by name any time," she remarked, setting the mug back on the table. "But anyway."
"To circle back a little," Dr. Chakwas commented, "I'm willing to try Mordin's suggestion. I was going to wait until you came to me specifically, but…" She raised her mug to her lips, taking a slow sip before finishing. "We both know you're stubborn as an ox."
Half of Shepard wanted to wince while the other half grinned, resulting in a very odd expression. "Yeah, well." She sighed, a long and heavy breath out, then flicked her empty mug across the table idly. "How's he doing?"
Dr. Chakwas paused, mug halfway to her lips. "You know I can't - "
"I don't mean his medical records," Shepard clarified, waving a hand. "I mean - I don't know." She hesitated, still flicking her mug absently across the table. "You're his friend." Another beat of silence. "He isn't talking to me much."
"Nor myself," Dr. Chakwas admitted, setting her own mug on the table with a click. "But it hasn't been a while. Let him - "
"Acclimate," Shepard supplied, and Dr. Chakwas smiled.
"He's a salarian, but he's not exactly superlative in that respect, Shepard - not to mention, he's old. He's still far more adaptable than myself, I might add, but he may do things a little more slowly than we've come to expect from salarians."
"How old is he?" Shepard asked curiously. "I've never asked him."
"He's generally forthcoming with the information," the doctor stated. "Forty-four, if memory serves correctly."
Shepard winced. "He's past forty."
"Mmhmm." Dr. Chakwas took another long sip from her tea. "He's the picture of health, otherwise." She glanced to Shepard, eyes taking in the slightly more tense expression. "He's not going to keel over tomorrow, if that's what you're worried about."
Shepard's wince intensified. "Um… yeah."
"He's stubborn," Dr. Chakwas assured her. "Is that a primary concern?"
Shepard eyed her, then glanced back down to her empty mug. "He's a friend."
Dr. Chakwas observed her quietly for a moment, then snapped up the two mugs and stood. "The oldest I've heard a salarian live is nearly sixty, Shepard. I wouldn't dwell on it."
Shepard hid a grimace as Dr. Chakwas made her way to the galley sink and began to rinse the mugs. "Yeah."
Dr. Chakwas paused. "Is there something else?"
"It's just… anxiety-inducing. But anyway." She shrugged, then opted to change the topic. "Are we still on for Thursday?"
"Hm? Oh. Movie night?" Dr. Chakwas chuckled. "I don't see why not."
"What movie did you pick?"
"Coraline." Finished with the mugs, the doctor set them back in a cabinet. "Not a musical, but the animation is absolutely enchanting."
"Never seen it," Shepard commented.
"It's also an older movie. I'd be surprised if you had," Dr. Chakwas remarked, walking over and scooping up the soggy napkin. "It saves you from having to muddle along in Covus, though - I don't think there's a Covus version of it."
"Mordin's threatened to rig my translator so it spits out Covus instead of English," Shepard muttered, and Dr. Chakwas laughed.
"He quite likes you," she mentioned, tossing the napkin in the waste bin.
Shepard hesitated before she said, "Yeah."
"Do you doubt that?" Dr. Chakwas came back into view, a frown on her face.
Shepard sighed again, leaning both elbows on the table. "No," she said after a moment. "I just… mm… It felt awkward, the last time we talked. Like he wasn't telling me something."
Dr. Chakwas remained silent for a moment before speaking. "He's unusual," she reflected. "He also is salarian - secrets are par for the course for them, culturally speaking."
"You think it could be cultural?" Shepard asked, drawing one finger through the moisture left on the table by the napkin, and Dr. Chakwas shrugged.
"Possibly. Hard to tell. You can always ask him about it."
"He asked me not to."
"Ah." Dr. Chakwas sat with her back to the table, and leaned back into it. "It might be best to simply let him be, then."
"I know," Shepard grumbled. "I know. I'm not going to go tearing his door down about it. But it feels… I don't know."
"Left out?" Dr. Chakwas guessed, and Shepard huffed.
"That makes me sound like a little kid."
"Not at all." Legs crossed, Dr. Chakwas bounced one foot. "Perhaps it is cultural. Humans don't keep secrets the way salarians do," she stated. "Close friends keeping secrets amongst humans is sometimes seen as rude, and in some cases, psychologically detrimental - whilst for salarians, it's assumed as a fact of social life."
"Mm." Shepard grunted. "Mordin explained a bit of it to me. Social cues and whatnot."
"Mmhmm." She laid one hand on the table, drumming her fingers idly as Shepard continued to play with the moisture on the table. "In other words, for a salarian, keeping a secret is not always seen as an act of exclusion - rather, in some cases, it can actually be seen as an act of affection, if sharing the secret could potentially result in danger to the person in question."
"So, like with their dangerous versus safe secrets."
"Exactly."
"Mm."
Dr. Chakwas gave a tired smile. "I know it's not intuitive to us, but I doubt he's keeping anything from you solely to exclude you, Commander."
"Yeah."
"In the meantime…" Dr. Chakwas stood, brushing her hands on her uniform. "You two are friends. It may take you time to gain as much traction as you had, but that's normal."
"I know." Shepard grimaced as she spun around, moving stiff legs out of their former position.
"Sometimes it helps to hear it reaffirmed." The doctor held a hand out, and Shepard took it gratefully, pulling herself up. "Now. Do you think you'll be able to get to sleep?"
Shepard made a face. "Eventually."
"Chess game not help as much as anticipated?" Dr. Chakwas asked, collecting the datapad from the table, and Shepard groaned.
"Eh."
Dr. Chakwas paused, then flicked open another window on her display. "What time do you need to be up?"
"Dunno. Ten or so, maybe. Nothing scheduled early tomorrow."
"Come on, then." With a gesture, she invited the commander to follow her to the medical bay.
Shepard followed, albeit curiously, shooting a quick glance at the hulking form of sleeping krogan in the corner. "Doc?"
"Yes?" She set the display down at her desk, then turned to a piece of machinery set into the wall that looked vaguely like a very large, very bulky soap dispenser with a screen attached.
"Uh… what are you doing?"
She glanced up from tapping in what seemed to be a long chain of polygons connected by lines. "Do you want to try it?" Her voice was quiet, even though Eve was asleep.
"The - the medicine?" Shepard frowned, hesitating, a sudden tendril of trepidation sneaking across her mind. "I didn't expect you to bring it up this soon."
"You don't have to. It's entirely up to you."
"How does it, um… how does it work?"
"Medically, or what does it feel like?"
"Both, if you can explain it."
"It affects receptors that keep the brain aroused - namely, adrenergic receptors, though there are others - though, at this dose, those other effects are largely negligible. Essentially, it blocks certain chemicals that keep you feeling awake and alert." Dr. Chakwas turned and tapped in a few more items onto the screen, then poked a button on the side, reviewed the information with a businesslike air, and tapped the button again. "As for what it feels like, it's just like feeling very, very tired, except perhaps with the slight addition of a headache." A smile tugged at her lips. "Unfortunately, side effects are a thing."
"It doesn't, like, just knock you out?"
"Not at all. It's very gradual - and, mind you, the starting dose is so low that it may not even be enough all on its own. Avoiding screens, keeping regular bedtimes, all that - that's still important."
"Oh." The relief in Shepard's voice was evident.
"It's very controlled," Dr. Chakwas said reassuringly, rattling the bottom of the soap-dispenser-looking thing gently. "I think Mordin figured you'd prefer that sort of approach."
"Yeah."
The machine let out a loud BEEP, and both women winced, turning to eye the sleeping krogan - though she didn't budge or even shift an inch. After a moment, content that Eve wasn't going to wake, Dr. Chakwas slid a tray on the bottom out and dumped the contents into Shepard's hand.
She stared at it. "It's so small."
"It's a very low dose," Chakwas said lightly. "Now…" She brushed past to one of the other beds, fluffing the pillow. "Do you want to sleep in here?"
"Why?" Shepard asked blankly.
"Sometimes it's more reassuring to be in a more controlled environment," Dr. Chakwas replied smoothly. "If you do choose to try it, that is. Some people prefer it in case there's reactions, or simply because it's a more clinical setting."
Slowly, Shepard glanced at the distinctly not- windowed ceiling. "Um… might be nice, actually."
"Fine by me." Dr. Chakwas turned from the bed and gestured. "It'll probably be Mordin in here when you wake up, but I'll leave a note telling him not to disturb you."
"Fine by me, too," Shepard answered, hopping up on the bed. "Oh, and hey."
"Yes?"
"Uh…" Shepard turned the tiny tablet over between her fingers. "Thanks for chatting tonight. I think it helped."
Dr. Chakwas offered a smile. "Excellent, then. I'm glad." She paused. "I enjoyed it as well."
"Helping sleepless officers?" Shepard asked dryly, though Dr. Chakwas chuckled and shook her head.
"Let me just say, it's nice to be able to treat you without patching up some life-threatening wound," she remarked. "Though I do genuinely enjoy our little talks."
"Maybe we'll have to make it a habit, then."
Dr. Chakwas squawked suddenly, then hurriedly glanced at Eve, who still hadn't stirred. "Commander!" she said sternly. "You can't just swallow it with no water - "
"Already done," Shepard said thickly, swallowing with effort and giving a lopsided grin. "I'm fine, Doc."
Dr. Chakwas eyed her warily. "I'm getting you a glass of water. And you're going to drink it," she said threateningly.
Shepard hastily held her hands up. "Okay, okay," she said quickly, forcing down a giggle. "But still. Thanks."
"Happy to help, Commander. Now sit, and stay, while I get that water."
Author's Note: I actually played a chess game for this one! Over 20 chapters in, and I'm finally learning chess! You could probably (possibly?) plot out the whole chess game in the event you wanted to recreate their game. (No clue why you'd want to do that, but... Just a fun fact.)
(Also, over 20 chapters in and this is my first chapter without Mordin. I know I've said it before, but... Can you tell he's my favorite character yet?)