|1100 Local Standard Time.|
|Date: 11/02/2184|
|Location: Undisclosed|
He was walking at least.
Well, in some sense he was.
His breath was hoarse as he shuffled his feet along the slow paced treadmill.
"How… how much longer of this?"
"A little longer, Shepard. We're trying to get some good preliminary data to our boss. Please concentrate. It'll be done soon." Wilson gave the exhausted man an edged look before returning his attention to the console in front of him.
The random number of leads that adhered to his chest seemed to drip of sweat as he continued his 'leisure' stroll.
Topping the exhaustingly painful walk, he knew Wilson wasn't the only other person in the room.
He hated when she didn't openly announce her arrival.
He could feel the damned devil staring at him from behind as he continued his determined and painful pace.
"You mind? I'm trying to work here." He murmured in-between his gasps of breath. Her heels clicked softly against the metal tiling before giving off her usual cold stare.
"I'm here to help monitor your vitals."
"My doctor is more than capable of watching my…" He took a look at the screen behind Wilson, "…O2 saturation and steadily rising blood pressure." Half the reason his heart beat into tachycardia was because she was there.
He tried to give Miranda an abrasive glare but couldn't. It didn't do well to be menacing when his sweat damped his pits and face from muscle weakness. "If you want… to be useful, get me some water."
He held his stare forward and ignored the frown she gave him.
"Wilson...?" She finally managed to say, "Get the Commander some water." The doctor began to rise from his chair, but was abruptly interrupted mid-rise.
"I asked you, Lawson. Not Wilson."
She ignored the blunt and chastising remark.
"I need to speak with you alone." She insisted quietly as she motioned for Wilson to leave, "You can take a break from your exercises."
"Fine…" He clumsily felt for the handles that neighbored the treadmill before finally getting the courage to jump off. He didn't openly admit it, but it was a serious relief to finally stop moving his legs. He shuffled over to the closest chair he could before plopping down in a sore heap.
"How have I been doing?" He muttered through gritted teeth as he began massaging his thighs.
"Better. Much, actually." She rummaged through the data outlining his daily routines, "I'd say in another two months, you'll be normal."
He took a deep breath before closing his eyes to the cool air that began venting through the room's ducts. "Is that your personal projection?"
"Yes. And I'm rarely wrong."
This time he did give her the glare he intended to give the first time.
"Arrogance is a good way to get you killed in our line of work."
A prudent nod and small smile spliced her lips. When he saw the face, he could tell she was told this before dozens of times.
"Arrogance is making presumptuous and uninformed assertions. I make neither, John."
"Shepard is fine." He remarked sharply before wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow, "…and treat your subordinates with some level of respect. It really, in all honesty, goes a long way."
"Perhaps." She shrugged before taking a seat across from him to get a look at the list of charts that lined the monitors.
"You're looked upon like the ice-queen here." His raw throat swallowed and he let his eyes squeeze shut from the pain.
"I'm aware."
"Maybe you should rectify that."
"My way of doing things carries results."
"But it doesn't breed loyalty, Lawson."
"I don't need their loyalty. I need their skills. Nothing more, nothing less." She was quiet for a moment before adding, "There's a bigger picture here, John. Bigger than all of us. That's what matters." She emphasized his first name; a rather immature challenge, John might add, to objectify his demands to be called by his last name.
The man before her couldn't help but shake his head at the deadpanned concept.
"You'll see where that takes you in the future, Lawson. I learned the hard way. Many times. And if your way only gets you results? Then I'll walk out alive in the end and with more."
Seemingly satisfied, he closed his eyes and let the cool air lick his hot sweat.
After an agonizing sum of seconds, the woman finally let loose a small sigh.
"Shepard… we need you at your peak. And I will do everything in my power to make it so. And if it'll smooth things along, then I'll take heed to some of your advice. You are the Galaxy's hero afterall." A feeble, but telling smile, however small, did break through the woman's cold façade.
A smile crept along John's lips. "Good, that's what I like to hear, Miranda. And you can call me John, if you want. I just want my stay here to be a pleasant one. If you and I are going to be stuck together, it might as well be on good terms. Sound good?"
"I can certainly do that for you." When she finished, Wilson had entered the room with a cup and pitcher.
He continued his purposeful stride to Shepard without ever sparing the chance to stare at Miranda. "Hey. How's he doing?"
"Good. John here said is going to prove me wrong on his physical therapy, yes?" She accentuated her Aussie accent as best she could before giving a perked smile.
The small smile on Shepard's face grew.
"I'd be more than happy to take you on that offer, Ms. Lawson." He took the cup from Wilson's hand eagerly before downing the iced liquid.
"Good. Because you'll finally be getting a debriefing tomorrow at 1200 hundred hours." Her gaze wandered down to regard the tile floors that took her sudden interest, "Please prepare yourself."
"You told me I was in a coma for a year without anyone knowing. I think I'm prepared to handle a debriefing and get a hold of Anderson and my old team…" John's sudden frown intensified when he thought of Tali again. A million worries rose back to the surface and fought the sudden urge to kick the table across the room.
How he missed her.
And Garrus.
Wrex too.
Kaidan.
Ash.
Chakwas… Joker, Pressly, and the dozen other names he didn't want to think of at the moment.
"Just rest for a few more moments, John. You'll be up and about in no time."
"Yeah… get me back on that treadmill. Let's hurry this up. I'm ready to get better." He urged for Wilson's hand before turning to Miranda, "Soon enough, I'll be running faster than you."
"My two mile time is thirteen minutes seventeen seconds, John."
He chuckled a bit before grasping the bars that flanked the exercise machine. "That's pretty good. Mine's twelve minutes flat."
She frowned.