There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark
- Rolling in the Deep, Adele
Over the next several hours, Shepard was bombarded by swarms of doctors, flocking to and from her room, all overseen by Karin Chakwas.
"Well I am your primary caregiver, aren't I?" she had said indignantly, when Shepard had asked what the older woman was doing there.
So, much to her chagrin, she underwent numerous testing. She was prodded and poked (Chakwas doing most of the poking), asked a wide range of questions, had her bandages come off and redressed, underwent a series of brain scans, stress tests, an EKG and copious amounts of others before Chakwas would relent.
Every single doctor that saw her said the same thing: she shouldn't be sitting there, awake and alert, let alone alive. After hearing it so many times, Shepard began to roll her eyes in frustration, as Garrus stood beside her, chuckling.
When she thought Chakwas was finally done making her submit to the tests, another doctor walked through the door, holding a datapad, and zealously tapping it with long fingers.
"For godsakes Karin!" Shepard moaned, throwing her bandage head against the pillow like a spoiled teen not getting her way. "Haven't I already succumbed enough to your treachery?"
Chakwas crossed her arms in front of her chest, arching an eyebrow daring the commander to say more. Shepard scowled and muttered, "I could have you arrested for mutiny…"
When Garrus snorted, she turned to face him to give him the same glowering stare of annoyance and disapproval.
They had been at it for what seemed like the better part of the day, and all she wanted was for them to go away, and to be left alone with Garrus, sleep some more and possibly eat something… and not necessarily in that order.
To be perfectly honest, she felt fine… aside from her missing arm, the two missing ribs from the same side (which she only just found out about a half hour prior), the healing gunshot wound in her abdomen, the scarred, taut skin covering a large portion of her body, the massive headache that throbbed at the base of her skull and her temples, the unstable and volatile biotics that teetered on the edge of a knife, ready to blow at any moment, and the dark whispers that murmured ominous thoughts into her ear…
Well… maybe she was feeling a little worse for wear, but this place… the hospital made her skin crawl, with its stark white walls, the clean, antiseptic smell, the clattering of medical supplies. She felt like all sides were pressing their way into her, threatening to crush her, to suffocate her.
Her mother had called from the vid screen opposite her. Aside from apologizing that she couldn't be there, Hannah had relayed that general population was still under the impression that she was KIA. Not even Alliance knew, save for Hackett and her ship's crew. They had collectively agreed that Shepard's survival ought to be kept secret, for her own well being, at least for a time.
Liara, using her Shadow Broker influence, had brought the best team of doctors in to care for and monitor Shepard. They had all sworn and signed nondisclosure agreements before being allowed to see her.
The Normandy had been confiscated by the Alliance, and its crew grounded, Hannah has said. Kaidan had pulled some quick thinking and told the military personnel that he had used it for a Spectre mission on Council business and that he was unable to provide them with anymore information, as it was deemed classified. They were currently being held and debriefed.
They had talked at length over what had transpired with Shepard over the last eight months, beginning with the run for the beam, to the Illusive Man, Anderson's death, the Crucible, her nightmarish time spent with Cerberus and her bat shit crazy father.
Through the entire exchange, Shepard had ignored the concerned and sympathetic looks she received from Garrus and Chakwas. Thankfully, neither of them asked questions, remaining silent. with Garrus simply gripping her hand tight in reassurance.
She wanted out. She wanted to jump from her bed, grab Garrus by the arm, steal the Normandy and disappear forever, leaving behind everything.
The call to do so was intoxicating. Shepard closed her eyes against it, but the thought filled her with a hope and joy she long forgot existed. She imagined a home by the sea, located on some, far off, alien world, where no military or public or enemies or reality would dare bother them. The sound of waves crashed and thundered in her mind as she envisioned long and lazy days spent on warm, cream colored sand, her and Garrus lounging in comfortable chairs, drinks in hand, as they watched squealing and giggling children play in the surf… a small human, a turian child, and a baby krogan… all adopted, all loved just as equally. Nights would be filled with a table full of a variety of delectable food, laughter, stories read from underneath covers, blanket forts around the living room… music and parties under the stars, with long time friends that would come to visit…
Black tendrils snuck around the fantasy and yanked her back to reality with a violent jerk. In her heart of hearts, Shepard knew she would never succumb to that intense lull, no matter how powerful it was. Not so long as Cerberus remained… and that forceful energy that crept in the dark recesses of her mind… still whispering… still incessant, still unrelenting in decadent promises…
"Shepard?" Garrus' voice tugged gently at her, pulling her back through time, away from a flawless and unsoiled future.
Her eyes focused on his, and the corners of her mouth turned upward in a small, sad smile, a single tear leaking from her eye, carving a wet path down her cheek and falling on his three fingered hands.
She heard Chakwas off to her left cough nonchalantly, and Shepard shook off the remaining vestiges of the dream.
"Sorry," she croaked, her voice catching in her throat.
Chakwas shook her head, waving away the apology, and pointing to the doctor at the foot of her bed, "As I was saying Commander, this is Dr. Bernard Wolffe."
Shepard quickly straightened her back the best she could, and offered her hand to him in greeting, forcing a smile, "It's a pleasure, Doctor."
"Dr. Bernard here," Chakwas continued. "Is to be your orthopedic surgeon. He specializes in state of the art prosthetics for military combatants.
Arching an eyebrow in curiosity, Shepard surveyed the surgeon. Wolffe was a squat looking man, not dissimilar to a tall volus, but he had a pleasant, ruddy face with thick, round glasses. He did seem a bit on the eager side when he began to speak.
"I must say, Commander," he squeaked excitedly. "It's an honor to meet you. I- I can't express my thanks enough for what you have done for the galaxy, for its people!"
She glanced at Garrus as Wolffe spoke. He flicked a mandible and raised a browplate to match hers, both the slightest bit wary of the doctor's enthusiasm.
"You've given us a second chance, Commander… another shot at living…," his eyes shone with tears as he spoke. "When the Shadow Broker contacted me and asked if I would do this for you, I didn't hesitate. You deserve that second chance, as well."
Any suspicion Shepard had reserved, went flying right out the window. She was touched by his kind words.
"Thank you Dr. Wolffe. You're gratitude makes all this-," she gestured around the room, looking glumly at her empty shoulder. "Makes it a little easier."
He beamed at her, "The debt the galaxy owes you is something we will never be able to repay…" Wolffe handed her the datapad he held. "Hopefully this is enough for a consolation…"
Garrus sat down on the bed beside Shepard as she took the datapad in her hand, smiled back at him and looked down at the screen in front of her. She had no words to describe what she saw. It was the schematics of a full arm, including the shoulder joint, a working elbow and fingers that were capable of moving individually. Wires ran the entire length of it, and a number of small nodules were built along them at varying intervals. Her hand shook as she looked it over again and again, not quite believing what she was looking at.
She opened her mouth to convey the emotions that were overwhelming her, but as she did, no sound came out. Garrus pressed his brow to the side of her head, his subvocals rumbling in encouragement, knowing it was exactly what she needed at the moment.
"I don't know what to say…," Shepard whispered, still in awe. The prosthetic was a work of art.
"Well…," Wolffe began, thoroughly pleased with her reaction. "Let's see if perhaps I can answer at least a few questions then. The arm and two ribs, both made from the highest grade of titanium alloy would be surgically grafted into your body. The ribs can easily be attached to the spine with a set of anchors.
"As for the arm… from what I've seen of the scans, it appears the emergency doctors removed half of the socket, but we would of course replace the entire socket and then attach robotic arm, which is also comprised of the same titanium alloy as the ribs and carbon fibers…,"
Shepard frowned, interrupting him, unsure she heard correctly, "Wait… Did you say robotic?"
"Yes… technically it falls into that category, but you would have complete control over it," Wolffe said confidently. "The wires you see would be directly attached to your remaining nerves allowing for full manipulation and eventually 100 percent feeling and touch-"
This time it was Garrus who cut him off, "What do you mean eventually? She won't have a sense of touch right from the get go?"
Wolffe shook his head, "Commander, you will be able to feel pressure, feel the weight of something in your arms, feel heat and cold, be able to grasp things in your hand… As for the depth of touch you feel you with your natural hand… it won't be as strong. At least not until the synthetic skin overlay is completed." The look on Shepard's face must have asked the question she had in her mind, because Wolffe shrugged and said, "Two years is the time table on the skin overlay…"
She nodded slowly, trying to grasp everything the doctor was telling her, her mind working quickly. Plans needed to be made… strategies to devise… and a whole shit to of questions needed answering.
The doctor's voice pulled her back to the present, "-And you see the small nodes along the length of it? They will be able to help stabilize your biotics, allow you better control of them…"
Come toward the Light…
Shepard snorted… biotics…, "I shouldn't have to need all this… I've never been able to produce more than a decent Reave… and now that Cerberus has had their fun and manipulated my biology more than once, my Reave is more devastating than Kaidan's? And then I find out I can Lift? I'm not a Sentinel or a Vanguard… I'm a Soldier for crying out loud!"
Cerberus was going to pay dearly for everything they did. Not only to her, but also the war crimes and atrocities they committed against humans and every other species under the goddamn sun. And her father… Cyrus Shepard was going to be taken out in a geyser of his own blood as she slit his throat slowly, making sure he felt ever fiber of his skin shred beneath the hot sear of her omni-blade.
You are more like us than you know…
AND SHE NEEDED TO GET THESE FUCKING VOICES OUT OF HER HEAD!
Shepard shifted against her pillows, pushing away the walls that threatened to close in around her. Looking the doctor in the eye, she asked, "Will I be able to return to normal life?"
Wolffe shrugged, "I- You should be able to return to ordinary activities… I don't see why not."
"I think our ideas of ordinary are vastly different, Doc," Garrus said, his subvocals tinged with a hint of mirth. He glanced down at her as she gave him a smirk.
"I guess what I'm trying to ask is," Shepard began. "Will I be able to hold, carry, and fire a weapon?"
Wolffe's eyes darted from Shepard to Garrus to Chakwas and back to Shepard. Chakwas muttered a string of curses under her breath, shaking her head in displeasure.
"I don't see why not…," Wolffe said in a small voice, backing slightly from the crazed, half wild look in her eyes.
"How soon?" she asked.
"For the surgery? Day after tomorrow, it could be ready…"
"Do it."