Sorry for updating so slowly! Hope you all enjoy the chapter and thanks for you continued support! :)
Saren had been feeling increasingly anxious with each hour that passed and Shepard had not returned. They had docked at the Citadel earlier that day to refresh the supplies and do some repairs. Most of the crew had departed for some shore leave, while Saren decided to remain aboard. He'd considered accompanying Shepard on her excursions, but didn't want to suggest the idea for fear of seeming too clingy… Saren was not clingy.
Saren leapt up from the couch, realizing he had fallen asleep. Glancing down at his omni-tool, he read the time… 20:18. He'd been asleep for nearly seven hours. Shepard had to be back by now. After shaking the sleep-fog from his head, he rose to stretch his cramped muscles.
"EDI, where is Shepard?"
"The commander has not yet boarded the Normandy," the AI replied.
He immediately stilled and his heart raced uneasily with the news. What is she doing? He wondered irritably. He hoped nothing had gone wrong. The last time she got caught up at the Citadel, she had been attacked by a Cerberus assassin. What if Cerberus was planning another attack? What if she was hurt somewhere while he was safely napping away on the couch? He had to find her, if only to reassure himself that he was, indeed, overreacting.
Convincing himself that seeking her out wouldn't make him seem like an over-protective bond mate, he took his leave of the ship and into the Citadel docking bay. Picking up a fast walk through the nearly empty space, he immediately took notice of Lieutenant Commander Williams and Lieutenant Vega walking back towards the ship, laughing and talking boisterously. As the humans approached he could smell the strong, biting scent of alcohol emanating from both of them.
"Arterius!" Ashley called out in greeting. Her strangely friendly demeanor made his skin prickle with discomfort. The human had always disliked him and certainly made no secret of it, so there was no doubt she'd had plenty to drink.
"Have you seen Shepard?" he asked, hoping for a quick and straightforward answer.
"Hmm… Shepard, huh?" Ashley wondered aloud. "Maybe she'sh out with Thane!" she exclaimed in an overly exaggerated and slurred tone.
Quick and straightforward was apparently expecting too much."Thane Krios is aboard the Normandy," Saren replied levelly, narrowing his eyes at the intoxicated woman.
"Oh!" she gasped, stumbling sideways.
The Lieutenant caught her arm and pulled her upright, shaking his head hopelessly at Saren. "Last I know she was going to Huerta Hospital. Maybe she knows someone there," James said with a shrug.
"Maybe one of the doctors caught her eye," Ashley suggested smugly, glancing at Saren through hooded eyes.
"Really?" the Lieutenant questioned. "The commander doesn't strike me as the doctor type… Maybe more of the handsome Lieutenant type."
"No way!" the woman sputtered, giving him a shove that looked more like falling. "Besides, she's into turians."
James had a perplexed expression on his square face. It seemed the man still had no idea. Not the brightest star in the galaxy, Saren thought to himself with a slight inward smile.
"I'm… going to go look for her," he cut in. He quickly took his leave before Williams had any additional time to embarrass or irritate him.
Huerta Hospital was filled with patients, likely due to the influx of refugees from Reaper-invaded colonies. Doctors, nurses, and patients alike were comprised of several different galactic races, but mostly consisting of turians, humans, salarians, and asari. After scanning the hospital's reception room several times over, he could see Shepard was nowhere in sight. He couldn't even make out her scent through the multitude of bodies and intense smells of antiseptics.
"Can I help you?" an asari at the reception desk inquired, peering at him with wide blue eyes.
"I'm looking for Commander Shepard. Is she here?"
The azure-hued woman peered down at her records, flipping the pages back and forth. "Um… I don't see her listed here. Maybe she hadn't yet arrived."
"You're looking for Commander Shepard?" Another woman, this time a human doctor, stepped forward.
"Yes! Is she here?" He silently cursed himself for the elevated pitch in his voice.
The woman tucked a strand of short red hair behind her ear. It was a nervous response he had sometimes witnessed in humans. "Who is asking?"
Saren bristled at the question. "Just a member of her crew." If he was going to keep interacting with people he'd need to start learning how to better handle these questions…
The woman's green eyes flashed, her nervousness seemingly saturated with a growing interest. "Do you know Garrus Vakarian?" she inquired, a bit too anxiously.
"I do," he replied, eyeing her skeptically.
A wide smile spread over her human lips and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Can you please tell him Dr. Michel says 'hello'?"
"Sure…" he replied hesitantly. Any other time he would have taken pleasure in embarrassing Vakarian, but not right now. Not when he was feeling so bothered. "Now, can you tell me where I can find Shepard?"
"Oh right, the commander!" she replied, a touch of embarrassment flushing over her cheeks. "Yes, she's here. Please follow me."
The woman led him through two sets of doors, the passage between them set with scanners and decontamination units. After passing through to the inner workings of the hospital, the setting became much livelier. Doctors and nurses swarmed the area, tending to patients and engaging in intense discussions.
"Do you know who she's visiting?" Saren asked of the doctor.
She suddenly came to an abrupt stop and turned to peer up at him questionably. "The commander isn't visiting anyone. She's a patient…"
Saren reeled back as if he'd been slapped. "A patient?" he snarled, his aggravation becoming evident. "What for?"
The doctor shot him a look that bordered on offended. "I do not know you, nor am I her doctor. Patient confidentiality prohibits me from handing out that information." She watched as the emotions, hidden behind his angry glare, faded from concern, to helplessness, and to fear. She knew those expressions in a turian's gaze; they were all things she had seen in Garrus's eyes when Commander Shepard had been seriously wounded by a group of Saren Arterius's assassins. It seemed as if the commander had quite the affect on turians. Chloe knew she was going to have to start taking notes…
"Look," she said finally – she was a softie for mopey turians. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but it was only supposed to be an outpatient procedure – a simple implant. I don't really know all the details but she's been in and out of consciousness for several hours, now. The rest, her doctor may or may not choose to disclose to you."
An implant… The Reaper core. He'd feared this, but never actually believed she would sneak around behind his back and go through with the procedure. He felt angry and betrayed. Did she truly think that she was better suited to carry out a direct connection to the Reaper network? Furthermore, did she have so little trust in him that she couldn't confide in him? "Her doctor is Mordin Solus?" he asked, his tension showing.
The woman nodded. "Dr. Solus is brilliant, and he has a team of our best assisting him. I'm sure—"
"Take me to him," Saren growled. He was in no mood to listen to any feigned reassurances. He had to speak with the salarian for himself.
"This way." Dr. Michel quickly led him a few rooms down before stopping before the last door on the right. "Wait here," she requested before slipping into the room.
Saren peered in through the glass, looking for Shepard. He could see Dr. Michel explaining the situation to Mordin, who, in turn, provided no evident reaction. Behind them was the bed where Shepard sat upright, seemingly asleep. However, he didn't fail to notice the straps that secured her; one that wrapped around her arms and torso, and a second around her legs. Why would they strap her down? Seizures? Suddenly the anger he felt at her was replaced with something much different. Seeing her there, out of her element and appearing in such a vulnerable state, stirred within him an aching sense of grief. He found himself unable to tear his gaze from her, holding onto the hope that she would open her eyes at any moment. However, her only movement remained the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
Moments later, Mordin exited the room, followed by Dr. Michel. He eyed Saren knowingly, as if he was expecting him. "Saren. Knew you would show up. Though, later than suspected."
Saren narrowed his eyes at the salarian, and was about to remark when he heard the human doctor gasp.
"Did you say Saren?" she asked incredulously, green eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "As in, Saren Arterius? I thought you looked familiar!"
"Indeed. He is Shepard's team member and bond mate," Mordin said matter-of-factly. "But we would prefer it if you wouldn't discuss with others for he is, of course, dead." The corner of his mouth uplifted in a slight smile, his eyes never leaving the turian. From the look on her face, Dr. Michel clearly didn't know how to react to either points the salarian scientist had made regarding Saren's relationship with Shepard.
Saren bristled at Mordin's latter supposition. "Bond mate? How—"
"I assume the bonding mark on her left arm was left by you, was it not?"
Saren stared back at the professor, eyes flashing with warning. "This has nothing to do with why she's here," he snarled. "Get to the point."
The salarian breathed inwardly, satisfied enough with the turian's response. He knew the answer anyway. "The core. Shepard opted to have it implanted, as previously discussed. We performed the surgery earlier today. I presume she didn't inform you because you would react…" He paused to take in a quick breath, resting his chin between thumb and forefinger. "…negatively."
"Let me see her," Saren demanded.
"Understand your concern but, it is important that the patient rest to provide a full recovery. Afraid your presence would only distract the healing process."
Saren peered over Mordin's shoulder, his eyes burning. "Why is she strapped down?"
"Necessary precautions in case patient wakes up startled, confused," Mordin explained as if it was normal procedure.
"Please, take this time to relax," the salarian continued. "Return to the Normandy. Visit the club. Explore the Presidium – certain it has changed significantly since your last visit. Will send correspondence when visitation available."
Saren glared angrily at the salarian, who stared right back, steadfast in his decision. He knew Mordin wasn't the type to give in to pleading or by force. But he was hiding something… Saren could feel it in his gut. Though he trusted the salarian's abilities, he still felt uneasy. It was killing him to be so close, yet unable to touch her. "I'll be back by morning," he growled before reluctantly taking his leave.
"I don't mean to question your decision, Doctor, but why not let him see her?" Chloe inquired once Saren was out of sight.
Mordin was about to respond when a "screech" of boots against tile turned both doctors around and back into the room. One of the nurses was quickly preparing a sedative while Shepard, eyes wide open, strained fruitlessly against her bonds. Just like the last few times this had occurred, there was a vacant look in her eyes. The pattern of her cornea had been changing rapidly, even beginning to take on some illuminating properties, much like Saren's. Mordin hovered over his patient and held up his hand, stopping the nurse from pricking her with the awaiting needle. A myriad of languages poured from Shepard's lips, many of which were lost on his translator. But each one carried the same message: "War is inevitable. Annihilation is inevitable. We are infinite."
Chloe gazed down at the commander fearfully. She didn't know what kind of implant the woman had received – as it was strictly classified – but to see it affect her in such a way was disheartening. "Is this why you wouldn't let him in to see her?"
Ignoring her question, the professor waved his omni-tool over the commander to perform a scan, and then brought it back to punch in some quick notes. "Approximately two hours and thirty minutes since last occurrence. As expected. Intervals between episodes increasing by a sustained fifty percent." Mordin turned to his fellow doctor. The lines around his eyes suddenly appeared deeper, though his expression remained stalwart and unchanging. "Could not allow turian to be present during episode. Too risky." His voice was calm, but Chloe could tell he was worried. Shepard was his friend after all.
"Will she stabilize?"
"Yes. Patient's brain is processing information fed in through implant. Will take time."
Information. She feared to think of what information would carry such grim messages as what she heard in her translator.
Shepard couldn't be sure how long she had been fighting against the voices that lingered in her skull. Minutes? Days? Longer…? She tried to focus on the sounds of her physical realm, ignoring those that soothed and beckoned; those from a realm she couldn't define nor comprehend. If only she could get her body to respond to her commands, then perhaps she could escape their temping words.
She could hear the slight hum of Mordin, distant and muffled. It was like a beacon of hope to which she would need to reach before she was swallowed by the eternal darkness. Is this what the full force of indoctrination felt like? There was anxiety, fear, and hopelessness in her resistance. Contentment, wonderment, and acceptance were met with complacency. It skewed the paths before her, blurring them into one.