It shouldn't hurt if you're dead. That was the first, confused thought that wormed its way through Shepard's mind. Waking up to the rhythmic tones of medical machinery, and the afterglow of too-bright lights through her eyelids was strangely familiar. For a second she half expected to hear Miranda's strident voice over the comm system,ordering her up out of bed, to go retrieve a pistol from the bin in the corner. Somewhere during that thought, the darkness rolled over her, and tumbled her back into unconsciousness; when she awoke for the second time, the pain was less immediate and more of a dull, hazy ache.

The room swam slowly into focus when Shepard opened her eyes. The overhead lights made her wince, then groan as she turned her head, triggering a sharp pain in her chest.

"Hey, uh, Chakwas said you're not supposed to move, so could you, you know... not move."

Blinking her eyes repeatedly, Shepard crinkled her brow as she tried to focus on the figure seated by the bed,"Joker?" The name came out slightly slurred, and Shepard grimaced, her mouth felt sticky and foul, like something dead had taken up residence. "Why are you here?...who's flying the ship?..."

Tugging reflexively at the brim of his cap, the pilot shrugged. "I'm here because Chakwas needed some time away from trying to keep your insides, well...inside. As for who's flying the ship," Joker folded his arms sulkily, "that obnoxious piece of overpriced software is doing that. So don't be surprised if we wind up in a gas giant, or a binary star, or..."

"It would be counterproductive for me to plot any course that would result in structural damage to the Normandy, Mr. Moreau." EDI's calm synthetic voice echoed slightly through the med bay. "As well as countermanding the facet of my programing that speaks to the preservation of organic life, such actions would result in the destruction of my own core."

Joker raised a middle finger in the general direction of the security monitor. "Yeah, and programing always works, lets call Tali and ask her all about that."

"Alright, enough," Shepard wishes her voice had come out more commanding, less quavery and small. She probes gently at the thick swath of bandaging across her chest, flinching a little at the dull throb. "Where," the word comes out as a low rasp, and she clears her throat and tries again, "where's Garrus?"

"Oh, uh...you know what," to Shepard's surprise, Joker immediately levers himself carefully up out of his chair. "Chakwas is really going to want to know you're awake, I'll go find her," and before Shepard could protest, Joker was headed for the door with his awkward hunched gait.

Gritting her teeth, Shepard tries to sit up, struggling to swing her legs over the side of the bed; falling back with a gasp of pain when the movement triggers a wave of red hot agony through her chest. The heart-rate on the adjacent monitor accelerated, as her body protested the painful movements with a surge of adrenaline.

"What are you trying to do?!" Chakwas runs the last few steps, and her hands are cool and firm as she presses Shepard back "for god's sake Shepard, you aren't ready to be up yet!"

Allowing herself to be eased back against the bed, Shepard pants as she watches Chakwas fuss over the readouts on the monitors, allowing herself a slight sigh of relief when the doctor triggers another dose of something that is blessedly cool and numbing. "Wha...what happened?" Shepard scowls as her traitorous tongue stumbles over the simple words, "how's Garrus?"

' lips purse into a thin line, "as for what happened, we very nearly lost you again Commander, if it wasn't for the biological upgrades Cerberus implanted...Grunt and Jack brought you back to the Normandy as fast as they could, but even then, there were a few days there where we weren't sure you were going to make it."

"Days?" Shepard mumbled hazily, "how long have I been..."

"You were injured nearly nine days ago," Chakwas' voice is oddly gentle.

"Nine days?!" Shepard repeats numbly, "but what...where's Garrus, he needs me..."

Chakwas' eyes are infinitely old and tired as she gently rests a hand on Shepard's shoulder, "I need you to rest now commander, you still have a lot of healing to do."

Shepard can feel the drugs slipping through her body, sweeping her mind under a wave of soothing black, and as her eyes slip shut, she can feel Chakwas' hand rest briefly against her cheek, and her soft whisper, "I'm so sorry, Shepard."

When Shepard woke again, the lights of the med bay were dimmed to night cycle standards, chair standing as an empty sentinel by her bedside. Slowly testing her mobility with a twitch of fingers, and then arms, she was pleased to feel that the sharp, hot agony had faded, replaced with a heavy sort of ache. The bandaging was lighter, the drains and shunts removed and she was disturbed that somehow she had slept through that change. Carefully, remembering the last painful attempt, Shepard levers herself up on her elbows, wincing at the twinge of stiff muscles and healing flesh. But that's the difference this time, its the familiar ache of healing muscle and knitting skin~not the sharp agony of fresh wounds.

The floor is cold against her bare feet, as Shepard swings her legs over the side of the bed, stopping to fumble the leads and monitor tabs from her skin. The room sways alarmingly when she stands up, bright spots flickering behind her eyes as the dimness of looming medical equipment swims in her vision. Her steps are uncertain and slightly clumsy, and Shepard leans heavily on the counter as she makes her way along the bay to ' private terminal, hissing when she drops into a chair forcefully enough to jar half healed injuries. The terminal screen pulses to life when it senses her motion, and for a shocked minute Shepard stares at the date flickering in the lower corner. Doctor Chakwas had said she had been unconscious for nine days, but this date suggested an additional five.

Without the support of the counter, Shepard is panting by the time she stops to lean against the door, by the time she reaches the elevator, her knees are shaking with the strain. The elevator has never seemed slower, leaning against the back wall for support Shepard tries to calm the ice cold flitting of the butterflies in her stomach, the crawling sense of dread that began the second Joker didn't have a snarky response to her inquiry about Garrus.

The first sign that something is very wrong is when Shepard presses her palm to the door panel outside her quarters, watching in confusion as the door slowly grinds open in a series of ratcheting jerks, finally failing at the halfway point with a screech of overstressed metal. Sliding sideways through the now narrow doorway, she stands momentarily stunned as the overhead lights flick on in response to her entry.

The first thing that registers is the diamond sharp gleam of glass. The display case that was supposed to house those frivolous models Shepard had bought on a whim was gutted, the frame warped, and the glass scattered across the floor in a glittering mosaic. Its the blood she notices next, dried to a near black on the floor and wall, 'arterial spray' the analytical part of her mind supplies, as she stares blankly at the thin arc of dried blood staining the gunmetal gray of the siding. There's too much blood on the floor, and Shepard stumbles away from it until she bumps into the opposite wall, and her knees buckle, sending her to her hands and knees with a choking cry of protest.

Everything seems to center in her gut, and Shepard gags a thin stream of bile onto the glass covered floor, vaguely aware of the shards scoring thin, bloody trails across her knees and palms. Rocking back onto her heels, she scrubs a forearm across her mouth, feeling the hot trails of tears on her cheeks, stinging in the open fissures of her reconstruction scars.

"I did this" she whimpers, hating herself for the weakness. Shepard remembers the flash of pride and understanding in Garrus' eyes when she told him to 'remember that feeling,' as Saleon's bloody corpse cooled at his feet. She had trained him to be a killer, she realized: encouraging his reckless idealism, sending him for spectre training...Sickly Shepard thought that she had set him on this path of destruction as much as the mercenaries of Omega had.

Someone is screaming, a horrible rasping sound, like something dying, and Shepard realizes its her. The howls hurt something deep inside, and she wraps her arms around her chest, grieving for herself, for that naive, idealistic C-sec officer she shaped into a doomed vigilante, for those faceless loyalists he had led to their deaths in the streets of Omega.

She doesn't hear the crunch of footsteps on glass until wraps a blanket around her shoulders, an accented voice cutting through her hysterical grief. "No, Shepard, no, its not what you think!"

Shepard stares blankly at Chakwas for a long moment, breath hitching in her throat, and eyes blurred and burning. "W...what?" she gasps out, not entirely sure she had heard the doctor correctly.

"I know this looks bad, and it is, but it isn't as bad as you are thinking! Physically Garrus will be fine." Chakwas' voice is forceful enough to snap Shepard out of her near hysteria, and she doesn't even protest when Chakwas pulls her to her feet, tutting over the thin lines of glass cuts on her knees, as she coaxes Shepard down the narrow stairs and seats her on the bed.

"Physically?" Shepard gestures bleakly at the liberal splashes of dried blood, "what happened here?"

"First off commander, you have to understand...we very nearly lost you. Again," There is an odd hollow quality to the doctor's voice, and Shepard blinks in surprise as Chakwas continues. "The injuries you sustained would have killed anyone without the physical upgrades Cerberus rebuilt you with. As it was, we still weren't sure we could save you; and I'm ashamed to admit, in the chaos of getting you back on the Normandy and into surgery...I forgot that, as usual, EDI had set it up so that your comm audio played for Garrus."

Turning her face away from Shepard's accusatory stare, Chakwas nods toward the door, and following her gaze Shepard realizes that the the reason the door hadn't opened was that the entire interior panel was warped. " EDI kept the door locked down while we did our best with you, it may sound cruel, but the last thing we needed was a hysterical turian in the med bay." Shepard flinched at Chakwas' words; staring at the dents and blood smeared scratches scoring the door panel, trying not to think of Garrus hurling his frail body against the metal, scrabbling with broken talons until his fingers left streaks of blood.

"Once you were as stable as we could make you, EDI released him." Chakwas smiled slightly, "you would have been so proud of him, he walked into the med bay like he owned the place; he was obviously scared, but he never hesitated, and he never left your side for days." Turning away, Chakwas runs a hand through her grey hair, her face crumpling into lines of exhaustion. "We were running low on medical supplies, the closest council planet was Illium, so XO Lawson ordered Joker to dock at Nos Astra as soon as possible. Thirteen hours out, you flat-lined."

"I...died?" Shepard doesn't say the 'again' that hangs turgid on her tongue, but she can see the shadows in the doctor's eyes, and knows she heard it anyway.

"Yes," Chakwas says softly, "you were dead for seven minutes, thirty six seconds." She clears her throat, spine stiffening as she grasps for her professionalism, "Garrus...reacted badly, ever since you rescued him, its been clear you had become his...everything. It was obvious he blamed himself for your injuries, watching you die was devastating. I did the only thing I really could at the time," Chakwas' voice is defensive, "I had him sedated and returned to your quarters...I never thought..."

"You left him here alone?" Shepard couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice, "after that?"

"You have to understand Shepard, we were trying to save you, that was our priority!" Chakwas paced the room, boots clicking against glass fragments. "Fortunately EDI continued monitoring him, and was able to respond quickly..."

"Respond to what exactly?"

"In retrospect, I should have used a heavier sedative dose...I should have done more, I just never stopped to think." Chakwas flashed Shepard a glance, heavy with guilt and regret. "Garrus came out of the sedative thinking you were dead, that somehow he was responsible...he smashed out the display glass, and slashed his throat with it."

Shepard closed her eyes, pressing shaky fingers into her eye sockets, feeling the pressure as a dull ache, and the hot burn of blocked tears. "Where is he now?"

"Dr. Solus responded immediately, without his expertise on turian physiology..." Chakwas' voice trails off, her usual curt professionalism fading into uncertainty.

"I said, where is he now?" Shepard loathes the slight waver in her voice, and swallows down the lump in her throat.

"Shepard...you may not agree..."

"Where is he Karin?"Shepard watches the doctor flinch at the use of her first name.

"It was ultimately XO Lawson's decision, although, to be honest...I agreed with her."

Levering herself painfully up off the bed, Shepard feels the first stirrings of real anger. "What have you done?"

"Shepard, we simply couldn't care for Garrus here...his mind was fragmenting, beyond anything I could even begin to treat!" Chakwas' face creases in genuine regret, and somehow that only makes the cold roil of anger in Shepard worse. "When we docked at the Nos Astra port, Garrus was transferred to a psychiatric medical center...I'm sorry Shepard, I wish there had been another alternative."

"Damn you," Shepard grits her teeth, trying to focus her anger, to ignore the part of her that was wailing in grief and horror to think of Garrus, probably drugged, probably restrained, almost certainly confused and alone. "How could you have done this?!"