Shalta General Hospital, Shalta Ward

Day 2, 1500

Flying bullets and screaming Reapers were one thing, but Andersen had to admit, he was shaking with nerves as he stepped onto the military ward. Memory alone had carried him up here, no directions from the stressed-out receptionist or the harried-looking nurses, and as he glanced towards the rooms on the right, there were no familiar faces, no sign of Gina, or Dr Malin, or even the salarian Murphy had mentioned, not that he was so familiar.

The door to Vanyali's old room was shuttered, no peek of light visible, and curtains were well-drawn over the windows. That… wasn't a good start. Glancing around to left and right as he reached it, he found the corridor abandoned. Nothing else for it:

Knock knock. He rapped his knuckles on the glass, and stood back warily.

A few moments.

Nothing. His heart skipped slightly. Checking the corridor again, and finding it empty, he put a hand to the door, and slid it open, stepping into the room.

It was cold, and quiet, an open window venting a cool breeze from the wards outside. The bed in the middle of the room was empty, covers folded back.

Oh shit. Andersen opened his mouth, but no words came out, not even a sigh or a groan. He bowed his head, shut his eyes resignedly… and then stiffened, as he felt something press against his temple.

"Bang," a quiet voice murmured. "Watch your corners, Andersen."

He glanced to his right, and found two fingers aimed at his head like a pistol. Such was the absurdity of the situation, it took him a moment to recognise the figure beyond, tall and slim and wearing a weak, faltering smile at the sight of him. Then, it hit.

"Holy shit…" he muttered, sweeping round and just grabbing for her.

Vanyali didn't reply. Without any of the usual protest she returned the embrace, a pair of thin arms latching under his shoulders, and for a good few minutes, they were simply silent. Andersen could feel her fingers pressing into his back, searching, as if making sure he was real, and her face was pressed flat into the shoulder of his civvies. He just stood, held her tightly, head still spinning slightly at the surprise of it all.

"…that was a stupid joke, wasn't it?" she mumbled, voice muffled by his shoulder.

"Almost gave me a fucking heart attack."

"Sorry."

"S'alright."

"It is very good to see you again, my friend."

Vanyali laughed quietly - or maybe shook quietly - and as she did, Andersen noticed just how thin she was. Not slim and fit, like before, but painfully thin, such that his arms overlapped behind her back. That… was disconcerting, and he shuffled his arms slightly, trying not to notice.

"Sorry…" she said again, stepping out of his grip as if noticing his discomfort. "Let me just… sit down…"

With a few deep breaths, she made her way over to the bed, sliding up onto it with her legs dangling over, barefoot. A loose civvy shirt and some crew-issue slacks were hanging off her, only adding to the worryingly skinny appearance. Her face, now he could see it, was a little paler than usual, and as she bowed her head, she rubbed at the corners of her eyes with a free hand. Andersen looked away, quite deliberately, and instead of drawing up a chair he just hopped onto the bed next to her, the both of them looking up to stare idly at the far wall, searching for something else to think about.

"It's good to see you," she murmured, with a weak shrug.

"I think you said that already," he chuckled.

"Sorry."

"And stop… that, alright? You've apologised more in the last five minutes than you have since I met you…"

"Oh. Sorr… mm. Objection noted, corporal."

He looked across at her with an amused smirk, at that, and she met him with a bemused expression.

"What?" she frowned.

"It's… kinda lieutenant now," he admitted, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"What?"

"Alright, no need to sound so surprised…"

"When?"

"A… little under a week," Andersen chuckled. "Passport to Rio and all."

Vanyali opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, lost for words. Eventually, she just abandoned the effort to find any, and leant over, hooking one arm around his neck to pull him into another tight, proud hug. The engineer laughed again, hoarsely, before finally managing to shake himself free. It wasn't difficult, all things considered. Yali had a weak grip these days…

"Alright, alright…" he muttered. "Why are we talking about me, anyway?"

"…because I don't want to talk about me?" she shrugged, after a moment's thought.

"You never do. Seriously… how are you feeling?"

"Look at me," Vanyali frowned, calling him on his feigned ignorance. "I feel like shit… lieutenant."

"You're alive," Andersen pointed out, bowing his head quietly nonetheless.

"Yeah. Alive. I've also got an inch of scar tissue buried in my chest. Muscle degeneration, loss of fine motor control… I look like a fucking coat hanger, too."

She raised her arms, scowling with some of her old fire, and then looked down at her feet.

"Alive," he repeated, simply. After a moment, and with a meek nod, she echoed:

"Alive…"

"Captain'll be glad to hear it. He's been worried. Sent me down here to check how your treatment went, actually."

"And here I thought it was a friendly visit," Yali smirked. "How's he doing? Half-expected him to be here, truth be told."

"He's laid up in bed, same as you," Andersen noted, with a slight chuckle. "Took a shot on our last run."

"Again? Idiot really needs to learn what 'cover' is…"

"Heh."

Another awkward pause. Andersen's eyes flickered over to the bedside table, but he tore them away quite deliberately, and distracted himself by asking:

"How long are you in here for, anyway?"

"A while yet," she sighed. "Long physio program. Don't think I'm combat-ready just yet."

She smirked a little at the latter, but Andersen fixed her with a gentle smile as he replied:

"Nobody's rushing you, Yali. We just want you fit and healthy."

"…thanks."

He nodded, and bowed his head again, wordlessly. A nurse or an orderly went wandering past in the corridor outside, boots echoing down the hall. After a minute or so, he felt something soft land on his shoulder, and glanced up in surprise to find Vanyali resting her head against it, tiredly.

"Doctor Malin was right, by the way…" she murmured.

"What?"

"You hear what's going on. When you're… y'know…"

She glanced down at the bed, and shut her eyes a moment before continuing.

"Thanks for doing… what you did. Meant a lot to hear a friendly voice."

Andersen grunted quietly, a 'no worries' kind of gesture, but his eyes were flickering over to the bedside table again, trying not to voice the implication that followed. Nonetheless, Vanyali voiced it for him, after a few more awkward moments:

"I listened to it," she muttered, quietly.

"You got the password?" he blinked.

"'How's your arm?'," Vanyali chuckled, hoarsely. "I broke my arm on Benning. Operation Huntsman. Password was, ah… Charlie."

"Fire team Charlie. Huh. Wait. I shouldn't have asked that, should I?"

"You're just curious," she shrugged. "Wouldn't be you if you weren't, and I don't imagine you actually want to listen to it."

"Not in the slightest. I know what was in mine, so I imagine yours would… probably have me sobbing like a little girl."

She laughed wearily into his shoulder, and shut her eyes. Andersen just smiled down, weakly, and tilted his head against hers, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

"How're you holding up?" he whispered, a little more soberly than before.

"Fine."

"…well, I'm convinced."

He flashed a sarcastic smile, and she tried to return it, but eventually she just flopped her face into his shoulder again, shaking her head.

"It's… like going on vacation and coming back to find your house burned down," she murmured, eventually. "I know there's something missing, I feel the hole… but I don't know how I'm meant to feel right now. Am I meant to start grieving a month after it happened? Am I meant to be… just… over it, right away?"

"You're meant to feel however you're meant to feel," he said, putting his free arm around his shoulders. They were shivering slightly. "How do you feel?"

"Numb."

The engineer nodded wordlessly, and she fell quiet again, leaving it at that. They sat for another few minutes in silence, legs dangling over the side of the bed, Andersen's shoulder propping her upright as footsteps continued to pass in the corridor outside. The cold chill from the open window was swirling at the base of his neck, causing the hairs to stand on end.

"If you tell anyone I've gone sentimental like this, I'll fucking murder you…" a quiet voice whispered.

"Noted. You want to talk, or…?"

She just shook her head.

"Have you got to be off?" she murmured.

"Not for a while. Cambrai's docked for the day. Want me to stay?"

A small nod into his shoulder.

"Alright, then..."