The Clone wakes up in a hospital bed. Wires and IV's stick out from every visible angle and then some. She looks more like a hanar than a human-if hanar wrapped their dead in bandages. Trying to sit up, she only manages to set off an alarm before she screams in pain. One of her legs is in a sling, and a cast that runs from her thigh to her foot-she won't be going anywhere anytime soon.
"We found you in an office building next to a shattered window." She looks up to see a blonde man in a C-Sec uniform. "Mind telling us how you got there, Commander Shepard?"
Something about the way he's sitting next to her, without a pistol or an omni-blade in his hand suggests he doesn't know her real identity-if she ever had one.
"I fell." She manages to say. Her throat is as dry as a bunch of rocks
"From where? The Normandy!?"
The Clone tries to nod, but that sends pain piercing through her skull. "Y-yeah."
The officer starts taking notes on his omni-tool. "I heard it was quite the firefight. A clone!? What will the Illusive Man think of next?"
"It wasn't Cerberus." She should probably shut her mouth. Then again, she wasn't supposed to survive that fall, so why bother trying to hide? Maybe if she's lucky she can get him to shoot her in the head. "It was a separatist group."
"I see."
"Hey, Bailey! We got an issue down at the embassy. We need you to take care of it."
Armando Bailey. One of the heads of C-Sec, or something. Commander? Captain? The Clone does her best to keep her heart rate low.
"Sorry, Shepard. Looks like I gotta go."
"Don't worry about it...Bailey." The Clone shifts, trying to get comfortable. There is no getting comfortable like this. "Any idea how long I'm stuck here?"
"You'll have to ask the doc. Catch you later, Shepard."
Right on cue, the doctor catches the door, slipping inside. She's a petite young woman with short hair and a thick Russian accent. "Good day, Commander Shepard. How are you feeling?"
"Like I picked a fight with a Reaper."
"Mm. From the reports I've heard-it wouldn't be the first time." The doctor moves, checking her vitals. She chews her lip, glancing back at the Clone. "You've been here unconscious for nearly two days. You have multiple fractures and some internal bleeding, as well as a small concussion." Fortunately, your spinal cord was not affected."
"How long until I can check out?"
"You may check out any time you like-as soon as we can transfer you into Dr. Chakwa's care." The doctor's gaze drifts to her right, and it's then the Clone notices the handcuffs restraining her to the bed. Whoever the doctor is-she knows.
"I mean, how long until I recover?" Her heart rate spikes on the monitor.
"With your enhanced body, only a couple days of rest. Your armor protected you quite effectively in your fall." The doctor makes a few notes on her clipboard. "Anything else I get you, Commander? More pain medicine, perhaps?" She says this with an edge in her voice. A threat.
"I'm starving, actually. Could you put in an order for me?" Looking directly at the doctor, she puts on the least threatening smile she can manage. "I can't seem to access my omni-tool." The doctor frowns, and the Clone smiles. She makes a point of ordering something highly specialized and complex, for dietary and religious reasons.
When the doctor finally leaves, the Clone breathes in and out, counting the seconds until her heart rate slows, and assesses her situation. She's restrained, implying the hospital staff, or perhaps C-Sec (how much does Bailey know? Is he in on her arrest?) fears her leaving the room on her own. The doctor must have been exaggerating her need for rest, to keep her here long enough for the authorities to arrive-er, return.
Thinking of Brooks makes the Clone hurt in ways her injuries never could. At least her lessons aren't all completely useless. Without speaking, the Clone rotates her right wrist left, then right, then left two times, activating Brooks' hacking protocol. The cuff falls off, and she removes the other, biting her lip as her broken ribs protest. She takes out her IV's next, along with the sensor pads monitoring her pulse and respiration. As the alarms begin to blare, the Clone stuffs disposable gloves into her mouth, and launches herself out of bed. Hopefully no one can hear her muffled scream over the sound of the alarms. No one rushes to her door. The hospital must be understaffed in the wake of the war.
The Clone feels sluggish, drugs probably, and the exhaustion that injuries and not eating for two days will do to a person. She braces herself on the rails of the bed until she can reach the doorknob. At the nurse's station, she finds an empty wheel chair, and sits down, wheeling herself towards the exit. She nearly leaves, before realizing she's only wearing a hospital gown. Where would there be an extra set of clothes handy? Break room.
There are multiple staff members on break inside, so the Clone pulls the fire alarm. She catches the door as the last one leaves, and she slips inside. In their haste, most of the employees left their personal belongings behind. A few hacked lockers later, the Clone finds some casual clothes in her size, and puts them on. The Clone slides back out and follows the crowd down the hallway, and towards the nearest emergency exit. While the staff and patients wait for the fire time to arrive, the Clone keeps walking.
Here comes the riskiest part-the Clone has no credits to her name (and doesn't even have a name to tie them to), so she's stuck using Shepard's. To get a shuttle fast, she must use Shepard's Spectre override. Easy-as long as Shepard hasn't bothered to reinstate her biometric data.
The Clone waves her omni-tool over the terminal, holding her breath. Her implants report few exits, and high security if her plan fails. She feels the gaze of everyone watching her, whether they pay her any attention or not. Every second passes like an hour.
Then the light turns green. The Clone is dizzy with relief. She orders a shuttle as fast as she can.
Destination? The terminal inquires. It pulls up a map on her omni-tool.
Up until now, the only destination the Clone considered was off the Citadel. The terminal needs a more specific answer.
The Clone stares out the window, her mind spinning so fast she can't do much other than watch the ships arrive and depart. She could go anywhere. No one would stop her. No one would argue with her.
With tears forming in her eyes, the Clone chooses her destination.
Within minutes, a small cargo ship with supplies and weapons arrives to pick her up and take her to Earth.