Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Mass Effect isn't mine…blah, blah, blah…you all get it. Eira is mine however.
So I actually started work on this chapter immediately after posting my last update but I ended up rewriting it three times, hence the delay! I'm finally at a point where I'm happy with it so here you all are! I hope it's worth the wait!
Thank you all so much for your reviews and patience! – Fallon.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"The most important thing is to enjoy your life – to be happy – it's all that matters." – Audrey Hepburn
By the time he'd finished his second read-through of the medical reports the data pad felt heavy in his hands.
When Chakwas had presented him with the reports and the news that Eira was ready to be discharged, he'd struggled to maintain his composure and contain his relief. But the reports had grounded him, reminding him in explicit detail that Tuchunka had left a permanent mark on her.
[…] the subject was admitted at 21:00 hrs on 05.21.2185 with serious, life-threatening injuries. The acidic burns caused by a Thresher Maw attack have severely damaged the subject's flesh despite armor having been worn at the time of attack. Pre-operative examination confirmed that over fifty percent of the subject's back was burned in the attack, with numerous smaller burns over the left side of her neck and face […] it is projected that the subject will not survive the surgery needed to repair the damage caused by the acid […]
Gaze fixed upon the words on the screen, he saw her get hit again and again by the maw's acid in his mind. The memory of the scent of burning flesh resurfaced, hitting him hard and making him gag.
[…] An alarmingly rapid pulse and a low body temperature were first noted at eighteen-hundred hours. Eight hrs after the first symptoms were observed, the patient reported experiencing chills. Less than an hour after that, nurses reported that the patient's alertness had diminished and she was unable to clearly communicate. Blood tests indicate a severe infection, most likely originating from the more severe wounds on her back, that have left the subject with dangerously low blood pressure. Diagnosis is sepsis…
Sepsis.
She had been lying alone in a hospital bed, feverish and riddled with infection…
And where had he been then?
Aeia? Haestrom?
Dr. Lesley has ordered a broader range of antibiotics be administered, along with intravenous fluids to maintain the blood pressure of the subject. She has also been moved to a clean-room to minimize her contact with new bacteria in her compromised state. Current concerns for the patient are the failure of one or more organs […]
In the end it didn't matter. She saved him and he allowed her to fight for her life surrounded by strangers.
A tight, pinching pain stabbed him in his chest and he swore under his breath, chucking the data pad at the wall. When it clattered to the ground, seemingly unharmed, he snatched an empty whiskey bottle from the floor and chucked it at the wall. It shattered and he screamed as he threw bottle after bottle. When he ran out of whiskey bottles, he threw whatever he could find. Scattered pieces of armor, dirty dishes, and the models he'd spent hours working on were all sent flying across the room.
As they scattered, everything he'd been holding inside himself boiled to the surface and he was screaming before he had the awareness to bite back his words.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he bellowed as his model turian cruiser exploded into a thousand pieces against the tank.
[…] we've decided to increase the subject's dose of pain medication, as the prescribed opioids are not providing sufficient relief…
"I fucked up," he spat, glaring at his distorted reflection in the tank's glass as he clutched another model in his hand, "I fucked up and she paid the price!"
It went soaring through the air and fragmented upon impact.
Despite the success of the procedure, it is suspected that the subject will not survive the recovery process. Potential for infection is great and as such, I have ordered an aggressive series of antibiotics to be administered. Her employer has made it clear we are to use all of our resources and devote 100% of our time to keeping the subject alive.
"You could have died!"
With nothing else nearby for him to throw that wasn't bolted to the ground, he punched the wall. As soon as his fist made contact he knew he couldn't stop.
"It…should…have….been…me!"
He lost track of how many times he punched the wall. Numb to the pain, he only vaguely registered the warmth of his blood between his fingers.
It was only when his arms felt heavy and his head spun with vertigo that his strikes wavered. Choking on a barely contained sob, Shepard staggered and fell to his knees. He fell back against the wall, looking down at his own bloodied hands and shaking.
With silence having finally returned to the small cabin, he realized he wasn't alone in his room.
He looked up from where he sat and saw her standing in the doorway, as quiet and composed as ever.
"Go away," he said in a pained, broken voice as he tried to hide his bloodied hands.
Chakwas ignored his command and entered his room with a heavy sigh. She tip-toed around the pieces of broken glass, taking in the full scale of the mess he'd made of his cabin, until she reached him. He made a weak attempt to fend off her attempts to examine his hands, but ultimately relented.
"You've certainly made a mess of yourself, commander," she said as she tenderly prodded his hand, checking to see if he'd broken any bones in his fit, "Just what were you trying to accomplish?"
Shepard said nothing.
Unsure how much she had seen, he felt exposed and couldn't bring himself to look at her. Instead he settled his gaze on his hands.
"Hmm?"
"I was angry."
"I gathered as much."
"Fuck off," he said with a groan, too exhausted to bother with sugar-coating is words.
Chakwas didn't flinch. Instead, she calmly produced a handkerchief from her pocket and began cleaning some of the blood from his knuckles.
"No."
"No?"
"Come now, Shepard," she said with an amused laugh, "The girl disobeyed your direct order to help you on Alchera and she saved your life on Tuchunka, almost at the cost of her own."
"I don't need a reminder," Shepard snapped through gritted teeth, "I know what she's done."
Chakwas grabbed his chin firmly, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"She loves you, you idiot."
He vehemently shook his head and swatted her hand away. The urge to deny it all surged in him…as did the fear that came from knowing the doctor might very well be right. He made to stand, angry and confused and just wanting to be away from her, only to be jerked back by the stubborn woman.
"Fuck –
She smacked him lightly on the side of the head.
"Enough," she made him look at her once again, "you don't need to say anything but you will listen."
He grabbed her wrist but his battered fingers kept his grip lax.
"I don't know what it is exactly that's haunting you," she said gently, "I can't imagine what you saw on Akuze or Virmire. I cannot imagine the weight of those decisions either. And then seeing Ashley on Horizon –
"Please –
"Hush and listen," she urged, "what I do know is that you've been hurting for a long time. And for whatever reason you seem convinced pushing Eira away will make it easier. But look at yourself, commander, look at your room – how is this better?"
Shepard's brow furrowed as he glared at her.
"This has nothing to do with –
"You're telling me your fit has nothing to do with Eira in the slightest?" she asked with a smirk, her brow arched as she eyed him knowingly.
Shepard sighed.
[…] it is my professional opinion that the subject is fit to be discharged from the hospital […]
"I…don't know what to do," he admitted quietly, his hands shaking violently.
"She's been discharged, we only have to go and get her from the hospital."
He shook his head.
"The last real words I spoke to her before she nearly died saving me weren't kind…"
He didn't know how he was going to make it right by Eira, or if the wounded biotic would even give him the chance. Unwittingly, his mind traveled back to the dream he'd had of her…
Nothing is over…
"You should be the one to bring her back to the Normandy," Chakwas offered, "and I'm sure she'd like to see you."
Shepard scoffed at her confidence, "You sure of that?"
Chakwas continued to clean his hands, "No, but you're not going to know for sure if you continue to mope in your cabin."
He paced in Huerta Memorial's waiting room, impatiently waiting for Eira's doctor to appear to begin her discharge process. It wasn't a small room by any means, but after thirty minutes passed with no sign of anyone it began to feel incredibly small.
He forced himself to settle near the large window that overlooked the busy district, leaning against it as he watched the skycars whizzed by.
Shepard let out a shaky breath and toyed with the zipper of his leather jacket.
He couldn't remember the last time he was truly as nervous as he was waiting to see Eira.
Over the course of the ten hours it had taken to get to the Citadel upon hearing of her release, he'd fretted over absolutely everything from what he was going to say when he saw her to what he was going to wear. Deep down, he knew it had all been ridiculous, but it had persisted nonetheless.
Even now he couldn't stop fidgeting.
"Commander?"
He turned and spotted a woman wearing Huerta scrubs standing in the doorway. She looked frazzled and was clutching a handful of data pads
"Yes?"
"We appreciate your patience, commander. I'm one of the nurses assigned to care for Eira. If you'll come with me, we can begin with her discharge."
She sat on the edge of her cot, hands folded in her lap, as the doctor's fingers poked and prodded her back. It still hurt; the drugs and cybernetics took off the edge but the stinging, tingling, annoying pain, but it was something she was growing accustomed to.
Of course, the doctors said the pain would lessen with time but she had her doubts. It was too constant for her to ever believe there would come a day when it wouldn't be there.
For now, she endured the exam in silence, her hands twitching ever so often when he turned his attention to a particularly tender spot on her back.
"Are you excited to finally be leaving, Eira?" he asked as he applied the foul smelling ointment to her wounds, the final step before applying the bandages.
She shrugged automatically and winced, biting her lip to stifle her groan, as her abused skin stretched with the movement.
"I suppose…" she finally said in a soft voice, turning her gaze back to the window.
A lot had changed since Tuchunka. Beyond the physical scars she'd carry with her the rest of her life; she'd been forced to hack off most of her hair. Early on, the tickle of her long hair against her back was pure agony. Putting it up in a ponytail wasn't an option either, as raising her arms to brush back her hair was made difficult by her injuries. So, she'd recruited a nurse and tamed the length of her hair. Now, her hair only reached her shoulders and in cutting it the waves had become more defined. She had lost weight too; both from the stress of it all and the nausea that came from her medications.
And while she didn't mind the haircut, she couldn't bring herself to so much as ask for a mirror.
She didn't need it.
She knew she looked like a mess.
With the ointment applied, she stood to allow the doctor the room needed to apply the bandages. She hugged the sheet to her chest to maintain some degree of modesty, but she hardly knew why she bothered anymore. Her treatments, surgeries, and examinations had seen her poked, prodded, and pinched more than she cared to recall. Still, the sheet remained.
Once the process was complete, she was allowed some privacy to dress. It was slow going, but she'd insisted on doing it herself.
She tugged on a pair of grey track pants and a loose tank top that hung from her thin frame. Wearing a bra was out of the question; the underwire and clasp dug into her in a way that made the simple act of breathing nearly unbearable. The battle took nearly thirty minutes and at the end she sat on her cot, panting from the strain of it.
As the burning pain subsided, she wondered who it was they were sending to get her. She hoped for Kasumi or Gabby; she missed them both, but expected it would likely just be some low-ranking member of the crew the Commander ordered to go fetch her.
Eira sighed.
Shepard…
She really had no idea how she was going to face him again.
Or if she really wanted to if she was being honest with herself.
Before facing the maw, she felt like something had been irrevocably torn between them. His hurtful words and ice-cold glances stung her long before the maw's acid hit her. On the landing pad she'd wanted to scream at him and when he'd pulled her from the krogan melee, she'd wanted to break down in tears from frustration alone.
How can I possibly face him after this, she thought sadly to herself as she fingered the elastic band at her wrist, flicking it so it snapped against her skin.
Considering all that had happened between them, she was confident he thought she was pathetic. After all, he'd acknowledged and shot down her affections after Alchera. That should have been the end of it but as much as she'd tried to will away her feelings, they remained. It was because of those feelings that she'd done what she had on Tuchunka and there was no way he hadn't realized that by now.
She sighed just as the door to her room hissed open behind her.
"Pardon me, Eira, but your escort is here," the nurse said from the doorway.
Eira nodded but didn't bother looking up. She reached the sweater she'd left balled up at the foot of her cot and slowly pulled it on. She gritted her teeth and bit back the moan of pain that threatened to leave her, breathing a sigh of relief when she'd managed to get her left arm into the sleeve.
The nurse scurried around the cot, gently chastising her as she made to help. But when the nurse reached out to help her, Eira swatted her hands away.
"I've got it."
"But –
"I said I fucking got it," Eira snapped, her frustration magnified by her discomfort.
The nurse held up her hands and glanced beyond Eira, to the doorway.
"I'll leave her in your care then, Commander?"
Commander?
Eira followed the woman with her gaze as she left the room. That was when she realized that the nurse hadn't come alone.
Standing in the doorway was Shepard.
The nurse spoke to him before leaving the room, but he didn't hear a word she said. Every ounce of his attention was focused on Eira.
After so long worry about her there she was.
She'd cut her hair, that was the first thing he'd noticed. It was as he was admiring the waves of her locks that he noticed the numerous bandages spread across her back. Upon seeing them he immediately felt bile rise in his throat. He wanted to throw himself at her right there and then, but he felt rooted to the spot; immobilized by shock. It had only been when she'd finally managed to get the sweater on that the feeling lessened and he was finally allowed to take a deep breath.
He cleared his throat and closed the door behind him. Alone with her, the room felt eerily quiet and small. He tried to avoid looking at her, but it was hard when he knew her eyes were on him. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and crossed the room, pretending to be fascinated with the view of the gardens from her window.
The silence lingered between them and he shifted awkwardly on his feet, frantically searching for something to say.
"Am I to return to the Normandy?" she asked in an even tone, "or are you here to send me on my way, Commander?"
He took a deep breath to steady himself and pulled his gaze from the window.
She was looking at him but there was a distant, dim look in her eyes that hadn't been there before. The scars caused by the splatter of acid on her neck and cheek had scabbed over but stood out against her pale skin. Her clothes hung off of her and he wondered sadly just how much weight she had lost.
"C-Chakwas said you'd been discharged, I thought I'd personally make sure you got back to the Normandy safely."
Eira nodded, "I see…well, I apologize for pulling you from your duties."
"It's nothing," he said quickly, "Have…have they been taking good care of you?"
"I'm alive," she said coldly, "so I think they've done well."
"Yes…well I'm glad to see you're doing so well…"
Eira shrugged. She eased herself up from her cot and made her way to the counter near the window where a large parcel had been left.
Shepard saw her reach for it and hurried forward, intercepting her.
"Let me," he insisted.
Eira didn't protest and said nothing, freezing where she stood.
As he gathered up the package, he looked at her. She was holding her left arm close and looking at the floor. Standing so close to her, he was shocked at just how small she was. Practically swimming in her loose clothing, she looked lost and defeated; like she wanted to withdraw and disappear from sight.
"Are…are these your medications?"
Eira nodded.
It was a sizeable bundle, though he wasn't sure what else he expected; he had read the reports after all.
"I saw the doctor's reports," he admitted quietly.
Eira glanced up at him.
"You nearly died."
"Well, I didn't," she said without hesitation, "far too stubborn to, or at least that's what the doctors said."
Shepard swallowed hard, "Do…do you remember any of it?"
Eira stood completely still.
He watched her carefully, and his heart sank when she eventually nodded.
"I remember running towards you," she began, "I remember getting hit…and after that there was screaming and gunfire. Everything after that is a blur…"
"Everything?" he pressed.
She nodded.
"I got you to the shuttle…and I stayed with you in the med-bay on the way to the Citadel. You were fading in and out of consciousness…but you spoke to me. You don't remember what you said?"
Eira tensed.
"I already said no," she snapped, "besides, I'm sure the pain meds made me say a lot of stupid things."
"Of course," he conceded, strangely disappointed, "Eira…about what happened –
"I'm sorry, Commander," she interjected, stepping back to put more distance between them, "for disobeying your orders on Tuchunka. You can rest assured it won't happen again."
He looked at her with wide eyes, completely bewildered.
"Eira…you saved me. I wanted to thank you."
She gave him a cautious, curious look.
"I…I froze," he said with a wince, the words bitter on his lips, "and if you hadn't…"
"Forget it."
"Eira –
"I'd rather not talk about it," she said sternly, "can we head back to the Normandy now? I'm tired of looking at these walls."
He was about to protest when he caught a glimpse of her face. She was looking down at the floor, trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible, but despite her efforts he saw the discomfort in her eyes and the glimmer of unshed tears barely contained. She was shaking and hugged herself, zipping her sweater up as far as she could.
Fuck, he thought sadly to himself, I've done nothing but hurt you.
He tucked the parcel under his arm and headed for the door, with Eira following closely behind him.