Location: Unknown

The Normandy was on fire. She remembered that.

A few minutes before the attack, Shepard had been getting ready for some shut-eye, sitting at her terminal. She had been writing a report to the Council when she heard Joker sound the alarms. Before anything could be processed into logical thought, she heard an explosion, followed by screams. The armor she was currently wearing would have to do. She rushed out of her quarters, locating the emergency beacon to alert the Alliance. The rest gets blurry after that; she remembers having to haul Joker out of the cockpit, but not much else. He was put in an escape pod, but she didn't make it. The beam firing on the Normandy cut a hole into what was left of the hull and seconds later, the bridge was gone; the whole thing was caught in an explosion. Through the resulting explosion, she was violently thrown into space, desperate while she watched what was left of her ship explode. The N7 light armor she was wearing ruptured and the tube connecting the oxygen tank had been cut. All of the air was in the process of leaking out while cracking made itself apparent on her helmet visor. Suffocating was a painful way to go. She remembered being cold, on the border of freezing. Hypothermia, she guessed. She couldn't remember which one got her first. Her heart was beating furiously while vividly replaying the trauma over and over again in her head.

"..Doctor? Doctor, her vitals are unstable. She's having another episode."

She tried to place the voice. It was dual toned, flanged, and masculine. Male, turian, and not Garrus. Another voice was heard in the background, conversing with the first.

"We need more medigel. Protrusions in the arm and head reopened. The patient won't stay conscious for much longer. I need you to run a full detail scan on…."

This voice was similar to the first. Also flanged, but a higher pitch. Another turian, this one female; likely the doctor the other one talked about. And true to the turian's words, she passed out like a light.

Her trauma started playing out again, fresh from where she left off. The space around her small, struggling form was empty as she watched what was left of her ship burn. Her memories replayed the Normandy exploding in front of her. She was launched into space and her body fell towards the planet below. She was cold, very cold. Her life flashed before her eyes as she descended towards her icy tomb.

Alchera. She remembered the planet was called Alchera.

Memories went by one by one in a blur as she continued her speedy descent, unable to breathe. Now she remembered: suffocation got her first.

She remembered the hardships she faced, the friends she made, and the ones she lost. Saren committed suicide, the Alliance saved the Council, she played a part in Sovereign's destruction, and at the end, appointed Anderson as the human councillor. Her mission was a success; the results were bittersweet. Her crew had to go their separate ways and because of that, goodbyes were in order. Those were the hardest.

Shepard hated goodbyes, but wanted her crew to be sent off the right way. They were wonderful people and she felt they deserved her best behavior.

Tali felt like a sister to her, so the two hugged and parted ways. She completed her pilgrimage and with Shepard's help, retrieved the data she needed on the Geth. Liara was relatively similar, also hugging her before she left on a shuttle. Wrex was not a man of many words, but told her that she was the only human he had come to respect. He then promptly left. Garrus was different, being more quiet and reserved at first. He requested that the two keep in regular contact via the extranet while he proceeded to achieve his goal of becoming a Spectre. She wrote him a glowing recommendation and in return, he gave her a small trinket to hang on her dog tags; it was a small metal emblem that looked like a turian hand. The item hung proudly on her tags and remained there until the end. She gripped her dog tags, silently thanking her crew, thanking Garrus, for making her life as wonderful as it was. She was at peace, and then she died.

The rest of her dream was occupied by darkness and the vague, far away sound of voices. They would cut through sometimes and she would hear snippets of medical speak, but not enough to make the words out with any clarity. She could hear her heart beating again, furious with its movements as she came to realize that she should be dead. Why wasn't she dead? Who were those turians? Why was she here?

"...There, on the monitor. Something's wrong." The female turian paced around the room, checking the monitor with the male turian following suit.

"She's reacting to outside stimuli. Showing an awareness to her surroundings." A lengthy pause ensued before the male started speaking again. "Doctor, I think she's waking up." The male's voice was elevated to a level of concern she had not yet heard from him. Her eyes peered open slightly to catch a limited view of what was happening around her.

The female moved to examine her, concern written all over what should've been an inexpressive face. "She isn't ready yet! Check her stats!"

A flurry of movement was quickly followed by an exasperated gasp as medical equipment was moved forcefully to the side. The male checked what she assumed was her heart rate monitor. "Her vitals are pushing into the red zone!"

"Inject her with fluids!"

"I did! They aren't working!"

"Sedative! Inject the sedative!"

She could see the turians in front of her clearly now as she tried unsuccessfully to get off the bed. The female walked behind her, using both hands to hold her down while the male wandered off to get a sedative. The female was leaning over her, about a foot shorter than the adult male. Her colony markings were red and more profound than those of her partner. She was wearing dark blue scrubs and an apron stained blue from copious amounts of turian blood. A mask covered most of her face and her mandibles fluttered with what she assumed was worry.

The male turian was taller than his female colleague, coming in at about seven feet and had purple colony markings lining the bottom of his mandibles. He was wearing a white lab coat that tightly hugged his carapace and black pants that accented his leg spurs. The male turian grabbed a mask as he approached, putting it on while simultaneously handling a large syringe in his hand. Once he arrived, he gently grabbed her arm, injecting the contents of the syringe into it. It took a few seconds, but her heart beat drastically decreased as she started to feel more calm. A sudden sense of drowsiness came over her. The doctors started talking again when she was on the verge of sleep.

"Heart rate dropping. Her stats are falling back into the normal range." The male let out a long, heavy sigh, hulking over the nearby medical equipment. "That was too close... We almost lost her."

"Run more tests. She needs more time to adjust to the new body. Moving her consciousness into it left her in a state of temporary vulnerability. I'll watch over her to see if her condition changes. Write a report, Control needs to know about this."

The female doctor finished her diagnosis while the male did as he was instructed, walking out of the room to write a report. Shepard drifted off shortly after, falling into a state of dreamless sleep.