The Fourth Time (Part Two)
Liara had told the truth. London was a wreck.
He shouldn't have been surprised; after all, he had fought here against the Reapers and witnessed first-hand the beating the city had taken, he probably caused some of it himself (those proximity mines of his weren't exactly subtle). It was easy to ignore these things during a fight, to disregard the damage. But to see the aftermath...
Soho was noisy. Not so surprising. Salvage teams were rooting through burnt-out buildings, children were running through the streets, and paramedics were everywhere. The whole place seemed grey; the clouds, the smoke in the distance, the fine layer of ash that seemed to cover everything.
He remembered how much he hated grey.
A clap on the shoulder from James made him jump. "So, Scars. You really think she could be down here somewhere?"
He was quiet for a long moment. "It's a possibility we can't ignore."
James nodded, looking around. He looked anxious to get moving. "Alright. Well, lead the way."
He wasn't sure why the beefy Lieutenant had insisted on coming with him, but he didn't ask. He suspected that Vega had a bit of a soft spot for Shepard - 'Lola' seemed a fairly intimate nickname, after all - but for the most part, it didn't bother him. He supposed he could have been jealous, but Shepard had made it clear she wanted him, for reasons he still couldn't quite fathom.
"You'll never be alone..."
Those words were on a constant loop in his mind; it was her voice urging him to push through the crowded streets of Soho in search of the back-street clinic. He was tense, every muscle in his body taut with nervous energy. He was...afraid.
Afraid of what you might find when you get there, that little voice in the back of his head told him.
He had learned to stop listening to that voice.
If he had thought the streets were chaotic, the clinic was something else. A cacophony of sounds assaulted him as soon as he entered the run-down building. Doctors were shouting to each other from room to room and demanding more supplies. Patients were groaning and crying out in pain, and all the while various machines beeped angrily around him. It was a damn mess.
James was taking in his surroundings with thinly concealed disdain, although whether that was because of the noise, or the fact that people were desperate enough to be treated here, he couldn't tell. After a moment, he turned his attention back to Garrus.
"Looks like a receptionist over there," He nodded to a harried-looking woman sitting behind a desk; she was simultaneously typing something into her omnitool and talking in hushed tones to a fidgety doctor hovering by her side. The terminal on her desk buzzed insistently at her.
He paused, suddenly unsure of how best to proceed. Liara had informed Admiral Hackett about their suspicions that Shepard might be here, so he had contacted the clinic on their behalf. Apparently, there was still no way to conclusively determine if the injured woman was Shepard, but he had ordered the clinic staff not to draw any unnecessary attention to her all the same.
Only a handful of doctors were fully aware of the situation, so he had a feeling that approaching the receptionist and asking for Shepard - in a room filled with people - might not be appropriate.
Vega sensed his hesitation. "Scars?"
"It's nothing. We should, ah...we should find the doctor who was talking in that recording." He sounded about as confident as he felt. At least Hackett had identified who the doctor was.
"OK. No hay problema." The Lieutenant strolled up to the reception desk, apparently attempting to look nonchalant. The woman behind it spared him a quick glance before returning her gaze to the terminal screen in front of her.
"Can I help you?"
"Hey. Yes, uh...I'm looking for Doctor Patricks? I need to talk to him about one of his patients."
"And your name, Sir?"
"Lieutenant James Vega with the Alliance Military."
That got her attention. She finally looked up at him, and then over to where Garrus was standing. Comprehension dawned on her face.
"Ah. He's been expecting you, I'll send him a message. Please, have a seat."
They made their way over to a small waiting area in the corner of the room. Lots of chairs lined the walls, most of them occupied with humans. James sat down gingerly in one of the empty seats, next to a young woman cradling a baby. Garrus couldn't bring himself to join him.
This was it. There was a strange tension to the moment which he didn't like. Everyone had been so...delicate with him, as though they were preparing him for the worst. What state would he find her in?
Would he find her?
Almost cruelly, his mind journeyed to the times they had spent together. On the first Normandy, talking about his time at C-Sec and her training as an N7. Working with Cerberus on the SR2, her standing in the way of his rifle, protecting Sidonis. One month ago, the night before they assaulted the Illusive Man's base. She had held him so tightly, kissed his scars and told him, over and over, that she loved him.
That last memory made his heart clench painfully, and he was suddenly struck with the realization that he needed her. Physically needed her to keep him grounded and whole.
Lost in his thoughts, he barely registered the small doctor greeting them. Vega did the talking, and before he knew it, they were led down a busy corridor and up some stairs. They turned a corner and the doctor stopped suddenly outside a private room. It was being guarded by a security officer who promptly stepped aside to let them in.
He was about to reach for the door before the doctor stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.
"I don't want to alarm you, but you should know. The damage was...extensive. When we found her, she was unconscious. Near death. That's been part of the problem; we couldn't ask her who she was, and the burns on her fingers made biometric identification impossible..."
Garrus was half-listening. She could be on the other side of that door.
"...but none of the others thought it was her! I told them-"
"Well, let's see if we can't solve your problem here and now. Excuse me, Doctor." He pushed past and opened the door. And...
Doctor Patricks hadn't been exaggerating. The woman lying in bed looked broken.
"Holy Hell..." James was apparently thinking the same thing.
Tubes and wires connected to various machines hung limply from her arms and chest. There were burns on her face, arms - everywhere, really. A large part of her hair had been shaved, and in it's place was a surgical dressing. He noticed with a jolt that where two legs should have been outlined under the sheets, one stopped just below her knee. She'd had an amputation.
It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He could distantly hear Vega talking to the doctor, but he didn't listen. He slowly moved towards the small human woman. He listened to her breathe, deep and even. He touched a glowing scar on her jaw.
He had always thought her scars were beautiful, a reminder of who she was and what she had survived. But until that moment, he had never really appreciated them.
Thank you for reading! :)
