A/N:If you follow me on tumblr you may have read some of this chapter on it.
Chapter 8 is giving me some problems (Awkard Future Mother-In-Law-Times-Go!) so I don't know if I'll get to update until the weekend. Just an FYI.

A Slow Recovery

"Now slide into the-"

"I'm wearing floaties."

Shepard sat stubbornly on the edge of a pool in a reconstructed hospital in Vancouver, now the home of about a million Alliance personnel and citizens undergoing physical therapy, intensive medical care, or both. The IV port in her hand was covered, and she was still on heavy pain medication, but the doctors had wanted her to start her PT as quickly as possible - possibly because she continually insisted that she was fine, and they wanted to prove to her that she wasn't.

Somewhere someone had found a suit that fit her new, frail form, but water therapy - especially on someone whose veins still hummed with narcotics - required flotation devices, and she wanted to take a combat knife to them.

"I'm Commander Fucking Shepard," she insisted. "And I'm wearing floaties."

The physical therapist sighed in exasperation, and ran his hand over his head. "Yes. And they look wonderful."

"I'm Commander Fucking Shepard," she repeated. "I don't give a flying shit if they look good."

"If you want to walk on your own ever again," Chakwas chided from her seat in Shepard's wheelchair. "You need to cooperate."

"Miranda undid two years of death," Shepard retorted, wiggling her toes ever-so-slightly in the water. "I'm sure someone can undo three months of muscle loss."

"When you were dead, you weren't losing muscle mass." Chakwas had her no-nonsense doctor-voice on. Shepard scowled in her direction. "Now get in the water, or I'll tell your mother that you aren't cooperating again."

Shepard's scowl deepened, but she hissed and slid into the water. The flotation devices caught her before she could go under, and she hissed again as her weak legs scrambled for purchase the bottom. The therapist steadied her.

"Oh this is gonna suck," she mumbled.

Several hours later she was back in her bed, staring at the blank walls of her semiprivate room. Private, in that there was no one else of the heavily injured variety in with her; semi in that the walls were glass and had only medical curtains for decency. A terminal on the wall opposite her was playing - some old Earth show, and not one she liked - but she wasn't paying attention.

She hated this. The sitting, the waiting, the uncertainty. She'd just been strong enough for physical therapy, and now they were shaking their heads and tsking again like she'd fail.

Shepard collapsed back against her cot, arms limp by her sides. A single tear leaked out of a tightly shut eye, then another.

"I fucking did it," she murmured. "I destroyed them."

Gritting her teeth, she clasped the rails of her bed and struggled to push herself upright. She'd been working on this, regaining upper body strength - for some reason it came more naturally, possibly because she was making herself do it as often as possible. Grasp the bed rails, lift, settle back down. Lift, back down.

This time, she lifted and struggled to slide her feet over the edge of the mattress, resting them flat on the ground. Step one, check. Using her arms, she pushed herself slowly off the hospital bed, and her brain registered that she was doing it. She was standing.

It barely had time to register it before she toppled to the ground, her knees buckling under her lean weight. She yelped, trying to catch herself on the bed but failing, sliding to the floor after painfully slamming her back into the metal of the cot.

Fortunately because the walls were glass and the one facing the doctors' station hadn't been covered in wellwishes and datapads bearing flickering candles, it was a matter of seconds before an orderly realized that she was attempting to escape and summoned the rest of her guards. When the troop of nurses and aides marched in, Shepard was still struggling to get herself back to her feet, her arms and legs deciding to no longer support her weight.

"I'm fine," she snapped as Michael the Orderly reached for her, her voice taut and sharp. He winced, looking over his shoulder at the orderly who'd initially called for reinforcements.

"Co-ma'am, I-"

"I've got it under control," she replied. She tried to stretch for the bed again, biting back a cry as it stretched whatever she'd knocked in her fall. "I can pull myself up. I-" This time the motion did produce a cry, and she choked on a sob as the army of medical personnel won over and drug her back onto her bed, checking her IVs and herself for any injuries, smearing medigel on the gouge the bed had left on her back. Before the last nurse left, she plugged something in at the end of the bed. "What?"

"Commander, you're still too weak to stand on your own," she replied in the doctor-patient tone Shepard usually received from Chakwas. "We thought you might attempt to rush things, and we're going to have to activate the bed alarm. If you try to stand again we'll have to sedate you. Understand?"

Shepard blinked dully at her, feeling another sob welling up in her throat. She nodded mutely, looking back down at the floor. The nurse nodded and left, and another tear slowly worked its way down her cheek.

She was Commander Shepard. She'd saved the galaxy. She shouldn't be on bedrest. She needed to be out there, doing something, something that could distract her from the dullness the painkillers caused and the sterile smell of the hospital and the outrageous cleanliness and -

Shepard collapsed back against the bed, screwing her eyes shut. The walls were glass, she reminded herself. They were glass and she likely had several hundred eyes on her, trying to make sure she didn't attempt the same stupid maneuver twice. She turned her head towards her only solid wall - the reclaimed steel wall of the facility she'd been trapped in.

She'd never be able to do it. She was done, over. She'd be trapped on this bed the rest of her life and that was it. End of story. No more missions, no more walking around the Citadel or Earth or the Normandy, just a hospital bed and a buzzer that would go off if she ever tried to stand again.

She let a slow, small tear roll down her face and swallowed a dull sob, squeezing her eyes shut.

#

"Uh, Major!"

Kaidan stopped as he reached out for the lock on Shepard's door, glancing in at the woman inside. She was staring at the wall, motionless except for the rise and fall of her chest. The orderly - Michael, he remembered - was one of those regularly assigned to her, to the point where he'd been transferred with her from the Montreal. "Yes?"

"There was an incident earlier." As Michael filled him in, Kaidan felt his stomach sink lower. Shepard had tried to stand; no, no major injuries; you may want to talk to her; hasn't moved in hours; hasn't responded to doctors checking her machines. Kaidan took in the information and nodded, letting Michael hurry back to his work, and pressed the lock for the door.

"Shepard?" he said quietly, letting it zip closed behind him. She didn't answer.

"Shepard, hey." Undaunted, he reached for his chair and pulled it up next to the bed. "Hey, what's up?" He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. For the first time since she'd been awake, he noticed that their engagement ring was missing. "Marrakech."

"Not now," she whispered, still barely moving. "I just . . ."

"Please." He reached for her again, and she snapped.

"Stop! Just . . . just stop, Kaidan. Please." She sounded like someone had ripped her heart out. His stomach dropped into his feet.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything!" she snapped, jerking her head around to stare at him with tear-filled eyes. "Everything is wrong! I'm stuck here doing nothing while the galaxy is out there moving on and I can't even stand, I can't even take care of myself, I have nothing to do with my hands, I've got no privacy and I'm broken and I don't even . . . I don't even know why you want me anymore," she finished in a low murmur, turning her head back towards the wall with a strangled sob.

Kaidan bit his lip, moving to sit on the side of her bed and tugging her into his arms. She didn't resist, clutching at the front of his uniform and burying her face into his neck. "I'll always want you," he whispered, hands gently tracing her back. "I don't care if you walk or don't walk, if you become good as new or stay like this. I will always love you." He kissed the top of her head, then nestled it under his chin. "No matter what."

"But -"

"I mean it."

She smiled weakly and nestled closer to him. "I did stand," she said quietly. "It was only for a second, but I did."

"You had to stand enough to collapse anyway." He traced a circle on her bare bicep. "You'd your first day of PT go?"

"It was awful. I had to wear floaties."

Kaidan frowned, only partially thinking about their conversation. "You're a spacer kid. Do you even know how to swim?"

"Course I do. Crucial part of N7 training."

"Of course it is," he murmured.

"But floaties."

He nuzzled her hair, happy to notice that she'd relaxed against him. "And I'm sure they looked wonderful on you."

"You'd think anything would look good on me."

"Especially nothing." He tilted her head and captured her lips, swallowing her laugh. "You'll walk again. If anything, you never give up, and I don't think you'll let this win."

"I . . . I know. It's just . . . Some days are better than others." She nestled back against him, closing her eyes. She loved the way he smelled - a mix of the sharp smell of eezo, spice, and oil. She tried to nestle closer - this was the first time he'd squeezed himself onto her bed, the first time she'd just felt him hold her since she'd woken up. He'd hugged her, yes, and he'd kissed her the first time she was awake for longer than a few minutes, but this, the companionable silence coupled with the warmth of his body pressed against her, his arms holding her . . . this was what she'd missed, what she'd needed. Especially after her 'escape' attempt, and the fact that despite his words she still felt imperfect and weak. "How is everything going?"

Kaidan started talking, describing the progress with the relay and the quarians with the geth and the krogan keeping the Terminus fleets in line and everything. Shepard barely listened, just focusing on the sound of his smooth, golden voice as she felt herself drifting off to sleep. She didn't want to sleep - she wanted to stay awake, for him - but her eyelids drooped shut as she nestled into him, safe and secure if only for a moment.

Kaidan let his voice trail off as her breathing settled, slowing down to the quiet, easy sleep of the exhausted. He buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes. It killed him to see her suffer like this. Shepard had always been strong and confident even when she wasn't. She had relied on him as her strength, but now, to have to do it when she wasn't even capable, while he had to see her so weak and hopeless . . .

#

The worst was probably when they brought in the shrink, four months after Shepard had woken up.

None of the doctors had thought to ask for Kaidan or Hannah's opinions on this, the nursing staff arguing that they were growing increasingly concerned about Shepard's mindset. She was depressed, they'd argued. The longer she was incapacitated the more listless, uninterested and negative she grew. Kaidan had told them, after he'd first found out, that of course she was. She was a trillion-credit special ops supersoldier kept tied down by the body she was used to controlling and more layers of red tape than an Alliance black-ops file.

Nonetheless, when he showed up one Saturday fresh out of discussions about what to do with the Citadel, he'd been surprised to see an unfamiliar woman in a stiffly pressed suit in Shepard's room, with Michael waiting to intercept him when he arrived.

"Who's that?" Kaidan asked, trying to look around him. Shepard was staring at the wall, occasionally shaking her head or shrugging while the woman made notes on a datapad.

"Doctor Jaye Alwai. Head of the hospital's psychiatry department. Just an assessment." He held up his hand. "And before you get upset, Major, Hackett asked her to come in."

"It's not ..." Kaidan sighed. "I just-"

"I know. I understand it's hard."

"How long will they be?"

Michael looked at the clock. "Well they've been in there four hours already."

Four hours? He knew from experience that was surprisingly long - they'd done the same thing to him after Alchera. "What the hell are they talking about?"

"Search me, sir. But Shepard's only thrown one datapad so far, which means I'm losing our poole on how many we'll be replacing."

Kaidan thought he should probably be irritated by the hospital staff making light of his fiancee's habit of breaking things when upset, but chuckled instead. At least that was something like her old self. "I'll wait, then." He figured he could grab some coffee. "Page me if she leaves before I get back."

"Absolutely."

Shepard caught Kaidan's back as he left through the window and frowned, losing whatever question she'd just been asked. Alwai clucked, drawing her attention back.

"I asked if you feel trapped."

Shepard shrugged. "Shouldn't I? I thought that was a natural reaction to being told that you've probably lost your job due to physical injury."

She sighed. "Commander-"

"I'm a soldier. It's all I've ever done. What the fuck am I supposed to think about having doctors tell me I may never walk again?"

She sighed. "You're exaggerating."

"Exaggerating or not, that's what it feels like." Shepard crossed her arms, looking away. "I'm fine. I don't need this or anything. I should be doing something out there, not stuck here."

The doctor pursed her lips for the seven thousandth time, and finally leaned forward on her knees. "Commander, I have had nearly thirty years of experience dealing with soldiers. I know every trick, every method that you can possibly use to make me believe you. You won't be of any use if I can't find out what's wrong. Admiral Hackett has already said he won't let you leave until a proper evaluation has been conducted, and if you continue to act like this it never will be, and then you will be stuck he."

Shepard stared at her stubbornly for some time, then frowned. "Just leave me the fuck alone."

Alwai shook her head. "You may be one of the most deadly women in the galaxy but I'm far from afraid of you, Commander."

She swallowed, looking away. "Please."

"Talk. Trust me, you'll feel better."

Shepard was silent for a long while, like the time spans that had made up most of their near-four hour session. "I've been having nightmares," she finally admitted.

Doctor Alwai made a note in her datapad. "Go on."

#

When Kaidan returned after locating coffee and then bearing out his metabolism's sudden cry for food, the doctor was just leaving. She gave him a small smile, a nod, and a "major" as they passed. He nodded back and stepped inside the room, holding up a small throwaway mug of coffee.

"You allowed yet?" He asked. Shepard shrugged.

"Why don't you ask one of the wardens?"

He did one better and checked the chart on her door, then stepped back inside. "You're good." He handed her the mug, and she took it like it was the most priceless item she'd ever seen. His eyes settled on her ring, still brightly polished and glistening.

"God, how do they even still have coffee," she moaned, taking a deep breath so its scent filled her senses.

"Private stores." He looked up. "I, uh, never did it right, you know."

"Did what right?" He nodded at her ring, and she shrugged. "Doesn't make it any less real."

"No, but ..." She flushed slightly when he gently pulled her cup out of her hands and set it on the table, drawing them down as he settled on one knee. "Marrakech Amelia Shepard, will you still marry me even though your engagement shotgun is buried somewhere in London?"

Shepard smiled weakly. "I think you should be reconsidering if you're going to marry me."

"Never need to." He leaned forward and kissed her fingers just under the ring. "So?"

"Still a romantic," she teased, tugging him up so she could kiss him. "Of course."

Kaidan grinned and settled down on her bed, handing her coffee back. "So how'd it go?"

Shepard sighed and shook her head, taking a sip. He noticed her hands trembling, and made sure he was ready to catch the cup if it fell. "She's a stubborn bitch, and I don't like that."

"Are you all right?"

Shepard was quiet for a while, staring at her coffee, before finally looking up at him. "No," she whispered quietly. He nodded and rested his hand gently on her leg. "I have nightmares. I feel useless. The more I remember about what happened on the Citadel, even in bits and pieces, I just . . ." she swallowed and looked away. "Sometimes I just think it would've been better for everyone if I'd died up there."

"Not at all," Kaidan replied. "It wouldn't have been better for me."

She looked back up and smiled weakly. "No, I'd assume not." He smiled back as she took another sip of her coffee. "I just ... I want to be back out there."

"Until we get the relays activated there isn't much to do. Promise."

"But just ... Something. I can hold a hammer. Or whatever."

Kaidan chuckled, shifting so he could pull her against his chest. "Don't worry," he said, rubbing her arm as she nestled into him. "You'll be back out there before you know it."

A/N:

Jillian: So glad to be of service, mai dear. :D

Faretta: I'm flailing so hard. You have no idea how good it is to hear that right now.