I spent the night at one of the station's cheap hostels, or more like, just waited it out until morning. And when morning came, probably a bit too early for Marie, I made my way back to my apartment. I had barely had any sleep, I had woken up after my short rest with a start and my heart beating hard in my chest, but after a few minutes I couldn't remember anything of what I had been dreaming about. Lovely.
As soon as I opened the door and stomped in, Marie started to stir.
"Hmmmm... Mornin'," she mumbled, and winced when I turned the lights on. My crappy little apartment didn't have any windows, after all. Not that day and night cycle were particularly noticeable inside the station.
When I didn't answer, she looked at my face, and even in her addled state she noticed my less than happy expression.
"Oh god," she mumbled. "How bad was it?" She looked down at herself, and saw she was still dressed with the clothes from the night before.
"I've seen worse," I replied, trying to sound neutral. But yeah, I had seen worse. I made to the kitchenette, filled a glass with water, and brought it over to her.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." I looked at her drink, and when she was done, she looked at me. I sighed. "Look, why don't you go to your apartment, grab a shower, and we can have a chat?"
She muttered something I couldn't hear, but she nodded and stood up. She hesitated for a bit, trying to say something but not coming outright and saying it.
"What?" I prompted.
"No... nothing. I'm... Okay, are you mad at me Roy?"
I sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. "No, I'm not mad at you," I replied.
Marie caught on my stressing the last word. "Who are you mad at?"
"Let's talk later, okay?"
I finally got her to agree and leave, and I took the chance to tidy up the apartment. Going by the smell, Marie had had a disagreement with her dinner at some point during the night. I tried to wipe everything as thoroughly as I could with bleach, and left the fans running – the closest thing I could get to opening the windows. I was starving, but there was no way I was going to have breakfast in there, so I went hunting for a place to get some pancakes.
An hour later my omni-tool pinged; Marie wanted to know where I was. I flicked back a message to get where her apartment was, and told her I'd be there shortly. It was a good thing I was done with my breakfast, because I'd have lost my appetite rather quickly. Again.
"Roy," she greeted me at the door of her apartment, a small smile on her face. Her hair was still damp, she was in fresh, boring military clothes, and damn but she smelled good.
"Hey," I replied.
She gestured for me to go in, and we both sat at the table by the kitchenette. It was a small apartment, although it was bigger than mine. At least big enough to have some guests.
"Tea?" she offered, filling a mug.
"I'm good, thanks."
After taking a single sip, she put the mug down and looked at me again. The smile was gone. "Roy, about last night. I just wanted to have a little fun, and it kinda got out of hand. When you told me about Jasmine, I..."
"I think you have a problem," I said, interrupting her tirade. I winced internally at the harshness of my words, that wasn't what I had wanted.
"Come again?"
"What you did yesterday wasn't a one-off, was it?"
Marie looked surprised at first, but she covered it up quickly. "Well, I've had a few crazy nights before, sure. I still don't know what you mean."
"Come on Marie, at least don't take me for an idiot." I deadpanned. "When I saw you yesterday, you were on a mission to get drunk, and the way you reacted when I suggested you had had enough..."
"What, I'm fine!" she snapped, and grimaced slightly when her outburst reminded her of the hangover she was dragging.
"Really. So if I go and, dunno, search through the kitchen or your bedroom, I'm not going to find bottles, full or empty, or probably a mix of both, am I?"
"No, of course not!"
I looked at her, and stood up without a word.
"Come on Roy, stop that! What's gotten into you?" she said.
I ignored her, and made for the kitchenette, opening doors and drawers. Marie shot to her feet, but she didn't stop me before I found her stash. Sure enough, several bottles of vodka were stashed in one of the cabinets, some of them empty.
"You were saying?" I said, as Marie pulled me back to face her.
"So what? Maybe I like a drink once in a while!" she snapped. "Just because you have a problem doesn't mean others do, Roy. That's called projection, and-"
"Oh please," I said, interrupting her. "I'm very familiar with all that crap. I've seen enough of it."
She took a step back and looked at me, a small smile on her face. After a long silence, she went back to her seat before speaking again. "Roy. There's nothing wrong with me. Maybe you should tell me what it is you think you see, and why. Did you have that kind of problem? Someone close to you maybe?"
I felt my heart racing, and a very real surge of anger. Moreso due to the brief flash I saw on Marie's face, she looked rather happy that she had struck a nerve. Probably thinking it was a way out for her.
Several deep breaths later, I had calmed down.
"Marie," I said, taking a seat again. "I'm trying to help you."
"I don't need help," she said.
"Yeah, right." I rubbed my hands together, and unconsciously started bouncing my right leg up and down. "Look, I'll make this simple." I pointed at my omni-tool. "I checked the Systems Alliance regs, all I have to do is go to the nearest accredited clinic, say that I think you have a problem, and you'll have to report to them."
Oh, that caught her attention. Really caught her attention. For a moment, I had no idea how she was going to react, which immediately put me on edge. She looked so surprised. But that was gone quickly, replace by real, tangible anger.
"Roy! Just who the hell do you think you are? I don't have a problem! And I sure as hell don't need you sticking your nose where you've got no business doing so!"
"You can come with me, or I'll go alone," I said, ignoring her outburst. It wasn't easy, but I had had practice. "It's up to you."
I stood up, and her anger melted away in an instant. It was replaced by fear.
"Wait, wait," Marie said. "Okay. Maybe... Let's say you're right, okay? Just... Just hear me out." She waved at me to sit down, and reluctantly I complied. She rubbed her forehead with both hands, thinking. "I've just been having a bit of trouble. After Mindoir I mean. It's just... I just need a little time. That's all, just a little time. I'll be fine."
"Marie, you're an alcoholic! You can't just have a drink and get over it. You need help, not to simply be left alone."
"Roy..."
"No. I know I'm right. You told me you've had help like that before, right? It's not the first time."
She looked away, and didn't say a word.
"Come on. Marie," I called her, and she finally looked up. "Let's go. I'll go with you."
"I can't. I can't! If I go there again..." a few tears ran down her face, which only served to piss me off even more. I knew they were fake. They were always fake. But I kept it all down. "It'll be on my record. Again. I can't go there. Please..."
"No deal."
Marie sniffed. "O-Okay. I'll go first thing tomorrow, okay? I have to-"
"No. We go right now."
"What? Right now? I have- I can't just drop everything and leave!"
"Well," I said, standing up. "I'm going. Either you come with me, or I go by myself."
By the look on her face, I knew she realized I was serious. And that she really had no other options. As I had expected, the tears stopped, her face turned to a snarl of anger. And even though I expected it, it was still disturbing to see the mask drop like that.
"Well, fuck you!" she shouted, jumping to her feet. "I can't believe you're doing this to me! After I helped you, everything I did for you!"
She started pacing, ranting as she did. She stopped in front of the open cabinet, and grabbed one of the empty bottles. As soon as she turned to me, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I knew what was coming even before she did.
The bottle flew off her hand, and passed right above me as I ducked. It crashed on the wall behind me, exploding into a thousand pieces.
When I straightened up again, I saw she was looking right at me, and she looked... odd. Like she had no idea what had happened.
Without another word, I turned and walked off the apartment.
"Roy! Wait!" she called, rushing after me. I didn't stop, so she ran up to my side. "I'm sorry! Stop please! I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened!"
"I do," I replied dryly. I stopped long enough to look at her. "Are you coming or not? Last chance to do it yourself."
She hesitated. She looked down and, after a few, long seconds, she nodded, putting her arms around her chest, as if trying to hug herself.
"Let's go."
"Okay."
We went back only to close the door to her apartment, and then made the walk of shame together, towards the rehab centre in the nearby clinic. I had done my research, and knew exactly where I was supposed to go. Marie didn't argue, or ask, or say anything at all really. After a twenty minute walk we were there. I walked in with her, stood by her side as she talked to the person in reception, and looked at her go when she was invited to come in. She didn't say a word, or even look at me.
When I left the clinic, I headed straight for the gym. I found a punching bag inside, got myself a pair of handwraps, and just banged the hell out of the bag until my hands were bleeding and I couldn't even hold my arms up. And through all the time I was there, nobody said a word to me.
I probably didn't look very approachable.
Once I made it out of the shower, and got some medi-gel on my hands, I checked my omni-tool. There was a message waiting for me. My heard skipped a beat, but then I realized it wasn't from Marie. In fact, I had no idea who it was from, I didn't recognize the name. Anne Warkel.
Dear Mr. Morgan,
This is a courtesy message to let you know that everything for your procedure is now ready. Please, come to our clinic at your earliest convenience.
Best regards,
Anne Warkel, Wing 2 Fore Clinic.
"Huh, right," I muttered. "May as well go right now."
Three days. I was completely knocked out for three days. It had something to do with how they grafted the new lung, a variant of medi-gel held it in place and promoted the regrowth of soft tissue, but had to be done in a very precise manner, which meant no movement at all, not even involuntary. So I was on a respirator, hooked to my left lung only right through my ribs, and with my own unconscious breathing reflex suppressed. I was getting an oxygen-rich mix for it to work, with my entire right side clamped so that the ribs wouldn't move.
It hurt when I finally came to, and there were bruises all over my right side, so I can't imagine what it'd have been like if I had been awake for it.
"Good! You're awake!" a familiar voice with a thick Russian accent called. I was still loopy from the anaesthesia, but already over the really loopy part of it. The part where you just babble incoherently because whatever filter you're supposed to have has been disabled by the drugs.
"Hey Olev. Good morning."
"Hah! How you feel, good? Breathing well?"
"I... ugh, I suppose so. It freaking hurts." I felt over my chest, wincing as I found sensitive spots. When I pulled my shirt up, I saw a line of bruises all along the right side of my sternum.
"Yes, yes. Had to keep you clamped down or you mess my beautiful work!" He waved over the controls on the side of the bed, and started up the scanner. He hummed to himself, looking satisfied. "Take deep breath for me."
I did as instructed, although I had to stop before filling up when my ribs jolted in pain.
"Come on, breath deep, don't be little girl, ah?"
That made me chuckle, which hurt again, but I complied. Other than the rib bruising, it actually felt... kind of good actually.
"See? Breathe better now, ah?"
"Yeah," I said, and exhaled slowly. "Never noticed until now."
"Yes, old lung was a mess. Really not good, where was it treated?"
"Ah, well. When I said treated, I meant a few months of antibiotics and isolation."
"Months?" Olev replied, stopping his scan to look at me.
"Yeah," I said sheepishly, while I cursed internally at my big mouth. "Very backward place really."
Olev shook his head and resumed his work. "Hmph. Did a scan, no infection left. Very strange." The scanner beeped once, and he nodded satisfied. "Good, all grafts took in."
"Great, thanks doc."
"Hah! It's nothing! It's... how you say, easy peas," he said, messing up the phrase. "Now, other thing. Gene mods here ready for you." He pointed at a tray by the bed, where two IV bags filled with amber liquid were waiting. "Now, usually only one at a time, but you are in a hurry. So, will give you both, keep you here for a few hours, and if you not die will send you home."
"Not... die?" I said, and probably turned whiter than my sheets.
"Naaah, only if you are little girl," Olev replied. He hung both bags on the overhead hook, and plugged both drips into a V tube and into my arm. Didn't hurt one bit, very good aim. "Good, now relax, and will be done soon."
"Thanks doc," I said. He left the room, and I grabbed my omni-tool. To my delight, there was a message from Shepard waiting for me.
Roy, I'm here. Flight was okay, and I've met my adoptive family.
She didn't even sign it, just one line to tell me she was there. Carefully, and annoyed at the needle in my arm, I started typing the reply.
Hey Lana,
I'm glad to hear you arrived without incident. I'm sorry I didn't reply right away, had a couple of things that kept me out of touch. I also met Marie again, remember her? She's here on shore leave, asked about all of you.
How is Eden Prime? I heard it's like a paradise, but then again, people have very strange ideas about what paradise's supposed to look like. Boring is more like it, am I right or what?
What about the family, are they okay? I know, you just got there, but first impressions are important! I have no idea what Eden Prime is like, so you'll have to let me know all about it.
I'm currently sitting in the hospital getting my gene mod treatment. After this, a little more than a week and I'm off to bootcamp. I hope I can make it through, because otherwise it's going to be expensive, they're supposed to refund me for the gene mods.
Anyway, other than that, not much to report from the Arcturus front. You take care and keep in touch, okay?
Roy.
It only took about twenty minutes for the drips to finish getting all the weird stuff in my system. I did a little bit of extranet research while I waited. Turns out the gene mods were a collection of custom-made retroviruses designed for multiple, specific tissues, which used my liver as the target tissue for amplification (since liver tissue can regenerate quite well). They'd eventually stop when my white blood cells developed antibodies against the specific antigens introduced in the retroviruses as a "stop flag" of sorts. It was all terribly interesting, but it also meant that my liver was about to be hammered by a whole lot of viruses.
Which had the unfortunate side effect of making me so incredibly sick I thought I was going to turn inside out. I think I puked out my very first meal. Heck, I swallowed a dime when I was a kid, and three dollars came out.
"God dammit," I muttered as the nurse helped me lay back down comfortably once more. I was drenched in sweat, and was desperately tired.
"You're doing quite well," the nurse said. "You've gone through the worst of it already."
"I am suddenly having second thoughts about the wisdom of my career choice," I said, putting as much mock verbiage out as I could, which got the nurse to laugh at least.
"You'll be fine," she replied. "You're not a little girl, are you?"
"Et tu, Brutus?" I said, and she laughed again.
"The acute response is very uncomfortable, you'll be better in the next few days."
"I sure hope so, or bootcamp is going to suck..."
She handed me a glass of lemon and ginger tea, and left me with a smile and a pat on the shoulder. My stomach was still cramping, but a few sips of the tea did seem to help me settle down. With a deep breath, I laid back and closed my eyes.
I really hope these things work.
The nurse turned out to be right. Two hours later I was out of the hospital, still feeling sick but not too badly, and with instructions to come back if I was still feeling down in five days.
Hey Lana,
Thanks for the pictures! It seems like a nice enough place. How are the folks? You mentioned Thomas didn't seem to like you much. Give him a little time, he's probably feeling a bit intimidated by suddenly having a cool big sister like you. He'll have no choice, there's no way he can stay mad at you.
I also got a letter from Joe's parents. I mentioned that you've gone to Eden Prime, and turns out they have some family there, so there's a good chance you'll have a chance to meet them the next time they go over. Apparently they have a huge piece of land, should be good fun, right?
Anyway, first day of bootcamp today. And I finally found out why they call the first week the meatgrinder. For those of us who don't pass the fitness tests, which is pretty much everyone who didn't have the gene mods early and trained for it, we have a special training regime. They work us to the bone the whole freaking day, pushing with stims and whatnot, and then at night they fix us with muscle weave, medi-gel, and everything else they have. And in the morning, we'll get to do it all over again.
Whee.
Sounds bad, but what's funny is that it's pretty much like spending the night in a haunted house. Check the recording I made, this is what I'm hearing right now from bed.
Take care,
Roy.
Shepard was sitting on the bed across the mattress, her feet poking off the side bouncing up and down. She swiped over the omni-tool to open the attached audio file, and listened. At first it sounded like the sounds of barn animals, then she realized it was a whole collection of groans, moans, and curses, coming from a whole lot of people in pain.
She chuckled. Roy was right, it did sound like a haunted house.
"Lana dear, will you come down for breakfast?" a feminine voice called.
"Coming," Shepard replied with a sigh. She closed the omni-tool, and walked off her room and down the stairs, her steps on the hardwood floor echoing through the large chambers.
Once she got to the kitchen, she was greeted by the sight of Thomas sitting at the table with a sullen face, and looking at the empty plate in front of him. His curly brown hair was as messy as ever, and his pale face was scrunched in annoyance. The owner of the other voice was in front of the stove, pouring a pre-made pancake mix on a pan and flipping the results on a plate. She had the same brown hair Thomas had, only longer, and neatly kept in place with several hairpins; the same pale skin; she had a long, pointy nose, and a wide mouth with full lips, which seemed permanently curled down in disapproval.
"Hey T," Shepard said in a low voice. "Good morning. You okay?"
"Fine," he snapped.
"Thomas!" the woman shouted. Thomas didn't look up, but winced at the response.
"Carol, it's okay," Shepard said. "I..." She stopped talking when Carol turned to look at her, with a sad, wounded expression on her face. Shepard winced internally, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing her squirm.
"Lana dear, I told you, you can call me mom."
"I don't think I can," Shepard muttered.
Carol sighed, turning back to the pancakes, and getting the last one out of the pan. Shepard took the chance to look at Thomas, and forced a smile out. "It's fine," she whispered. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing," Thomas muttered.
"Okay," Shepard replied, trying for another smile.
"Thomas," Carol chided as she got to the table, putting the plate of pancakes on it and sitting down. "Come now, stop being like that. Don't you like pancakes? I just made them for you, you know." She made a very obvious and elaborate sigh. "Why are you always like this? I'm trying! I'm trying so hard, and- Thomas! Where are you going?"
The boy jumped back and ran off, ignoring the pleas from Carol for him to stop. Without a second thought, Shepard jumped back and went after the boy.
"Lana! Oh, why is it like this?" Carol lamented.
Shepard felt horrible about it, because they had offered a roof, and a home, but she really hated that woman. She had this constant need for drama, everything Thomas did, everything she did, everything seemed to be just the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She went from shouting at them, specially at Thomas, to just whine and moan about everything that was out to get her. And after chewing Thomas up all morning for... she didn't even know what for, that's how unimportant it was, it was all supposed to be fine and dandy because she had made pancakes.
Then there was Edgar, who was just so inaccessible. Just worked long hours, and seemed to want to hear absolutely nothing about anything when he came home.
She could feel the frustration oozing out of every one of the boy's pores. He was high-strung all the time, and had yet to say six words in a row to her. At least she was getting something now. Worst of all, Roy had been no help at all. She had asked, and all she had gotten back were vague reassurances that Thomas would surely come around eventually.
Damn but he was useless. She wondered if Roy had felt the same when he came to visit them every day back in Arcturus station, five... four sullen and quiet kids who didn't want to talk to him, or anyone else. But he kept trying. He was always there. She hadn't even realized how much she had come to expect it until she had shipped out to Eden Prime.
"Thomas," Shepard called, knocking softly on the door to his room.
"Leave me alone," he replied.
She knew the door wasn't locked. None of the doors in the house had locks. There was absolutely no expectation of privacy anywhere inside that building. Yet she didn't open the door, she just waited, listening.
"T," she tried again. "I know how it's like, when you don't want to talk, and everyone keeps bugging you. But it can help." She waited, but heard nothing. "So when you want, just let me know and I'll be right here."
She could hear Carol talking to them from downstairs. Still going on about the same thing, how hard poor her had it with the two of them.
Maybe being quiet and not saying another word wasn't a bad idea after all.
Author's Notes: Well, for something new. Expect to see more chapters, or scenes at least, coming from Shepard's point of view. Now, I know it's going to be a challenge, because essentially it'll be Roy doing things thinking something or other, and Shepard reacting to that and not necessarily getting it or the both of them being on the same page. So, little experiment here.
Short chapter, but personally rather "heavy." It's equal parts rooted in experience and wishful thinking, so there you are. As far as Marie goes, if you had the spacer background for Shepard, you find Zabaleta in similar straits during your travels, and Shep has the option of getting him some help. So I took a leaf out of that book, and just amped it up a little. Or a lot.
Friaku, thanks! Trying my best here :D
Mizuki00, I know, Jasmine. I always feel bad when bad things happen to my characters, so you're not alone there. Once I had a writer's block for a couple of months on a different story, simply because I knew what had to happen to one of the characters and the poor kid just didn't deserve it.
Sphinxes, thanks! Yeah, I couldn't let Roy just waltz through Mindoir without any consequences for himself. Shit got bad down there.
Archer83, I expect I'll be coming back to Mindoir several times in the future of the fic. I always thought the reaction of the Alliance to the raid was a little underwhelming, as they really didn't get moving until Elysium, but then again, after Mass Effect 2, where they seem to simply shrug at disappearing colonies, it wasn't half as bad in comparison. And thanks! :D
So, short chapter this time, moving things along a little faster, and an experimental change of PoV. Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading/reviewing/following/favouriting/link-clicking! :D