Author's Note:

Howdy folks,

This ones makes reference to my ME3 ending fic, Really Over, which is just basically my take on the ME3 ending (written before the EC DLC came out-which I still haven't played, by the way). You can check it out if you want, but you don't really have to.

It's been a while since I've written anything for this story, but this one-shot hit me the other day while I was at work, and it just so happened to be a slow day. So I typed it up at work. Because I'm productive like that.

The ending was inspired by this gif set I found on Tumblr by the lovely and talented Nhaneh: nhaneh dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 26079318891 slash oops-i-animated

Go check out her Tumblr. She's pretty awesome. And while you're at it, you can check out mine under the url TheTivster if you feel so inclined.

Enjoy,

BB

Stream of Consciousness
Recovery

They held her in a makeshift hospital near the coast of Vancouver Island. It was little more than a pre-fab outfitted with equipment and supplies salvaged from ship medical bays and clinics around the island, but it was the best the city had to offer after the invasion the earth had suffered.

Though Shepard had been talking, cursing and sounding mostly like herself when they had found her inside the ruined citadel, they did not know the true extent of her injuries until they got her in the Normandy's medbay. Third degree burns covered sixty percent of her body—much of it caused by her destroyed armour melting in Harbinger's blast and fusing to her skin. Six ribs had cracked, puncturing–and collapsing–her right lung, the wound in her side had nearly destroyed one of her kidneys, her left leg was broken in three places, her left shoulder and elbow were both dislocated and the amount of blood she'd lost by the time they got her into the medbay should have killed her—and those injuries had only been the beginning. Indeed, the only reason she was alive by the time Kaidan and Garrus had found her had been because of Cerberus' cybernetic upgrades and what was left of her armour automatically delivering stims and medi-gel into her system. But they had only been meant to serve as short-term solutions – just mere battlefield dressings meant only to last until the injured soldier received more substantial help from a professional.

And so, by the time the Normandy had cut into the Citadel, and Kaidan had gingerly taken her in his arms, her breathing had shallowed and she had lost consciousness.

When they later reached the hospital, the injuries she'd received from the battle had been followed by what seemed like an endless list of internal injuries and organ failures due to the trauma to her system. She had awakened again by this time, but the adrenaline from the battle had worn off and her agony had been so intense he could hardly bear it.

He could still hear her screams.

Then, she'd fallen silent entirely, and her failing internal organs had sent her into a series of violent seizures to the point where the doctors placed her in a medically induced coma.

He had lost track of how much time had passed after that point. He didn't care to know if it had been days, weeks, even months. His days consisted of sitting by her bedside, her hand unresponsive in his own, hoping, praying that he would see her emerald eyes again, hear her laugh, be on the receiving end of her ire. He wanted all of it, the good and the bad. He wanted her.

Several times, one of the others would come by to relieve him, and each and every time, he refused to leave her side until Garrus and Tali had come in. Tali stayed with her while Garrus had dragged him out practically kicking and screaming.

"Shit, Alenko." Garrus muttered, looking him up and down, "You look like hell. When's the last time you slept?"

He couldn't say. His nights had been restless and racked by nightmares, and he hadn't truly slept for more than a couple hours at a time since the battle.

The interrogation continued, "Have you even eaten anything in the last two days?"

Barely.

"I'm fine." Kaidan grumbled, "Shepard—"

"Shepard's fine, Alenko." Garrus responded, his mandibles flaring in what had to be barely restrained anger, "Don't kill yourself waiting. She's going to want you there when she wakes up, and she's going to be pissed if she sees you like this."

Garrus had a point—she'd hate to see him like this. She'd probably unload with a liberal amount of profanities and more than a few surprisingly tough punches to his person if she woke up and could see that he hadn't been taking care of himself.

He opened his mouth to argue, but Garrus continued, "I'm not letting you anywhere near that room for the rest of the day unless something happens. Spirits, Kaidan, go home. Get a shower. Have a drink."

"Garrus and I will stay with her in the meantime." Tali had stepped outside long enough to back the turian up. She stepped up to Kaidan, placing a hand on his forearm and it seemed like she could see into his soul through that purple faceplate of hers, see how broken and alone he felt, "Please. You're not the only one who cares for her, but we care about you, too. If anything happens, I promise, you'll be the first to know."

As much as he wanted to argue, he knew they were right. He had been ignoring himself ever since they'd brought her here. He didn't even know the extent to which he looked like shit—he hadn't bothered to look in a mirror in who knows how long.

Grudgingly, he let out a sigh and nodded without a word, turning on his heel and making his way out of the building.

English Bay looked pretty much the same as before. The Reapers hadn't come this far outside the main city center by the time they had been defeated, so his parents' home was (thankfully) spared from the destruction. His mother was still at the orchard where his father had brought her, but seeing her would be impossible while Shepard was in the hospital, so he was alone in his parents' house. He'd since showered, and raided whatever was left in the pantry, and was now sitting on the deck, trying to pin down his anxiety. This time, however, sitting on the deck overlooking the bay with a lager in hand just didn't have the same calming effect on him. It rather made him realize how much he wanted Shepard here to see it with him.

But when he returned to the hospital the following day, freshly showered and hunger sated, he admittedly did feel better about himself. The hunger and lack of significant sleep had done nothing but feed his anxiety, and he realized that now. Tali was right in that he was not the only one who cared about her. He decided that day, as he settled at her bedside again, that he would be more willing to let the others relieve him when they offered. At least until Shepard had been taken off the meds and it was just a matter of time until she awakened again. When that time came, they would be hard-pressed to peel him away from her bedside, so determined was he to be the first face that she saw when she opened her eyes.

His determination paid off, however, four weeks later. It had been a long, hard journey of surgeries, skin grafts, and blood transfusions—he was actually pretty glad she was asleep for it all. She'd been off the medication keeping her in a coma for only eight hours before she finally woke. He remembered kissing her forehead while she was unresponsive, and telling her how much he loved and missed her before falling asleep on her bedside with his head resting on his forearms. He didn't know how much later it was when he felt a hand resting heavily on the back of his head, threading fingers through his salt and pepper hair, and honestly, he didn't care to know.

He knew that touch. He had waited nearly two months to feel that touch again. Feel that hand in his hair. It was so surreal that he thought it was a dream at first, a bittersweet rendition of his subconscious to make up for the utter lack of her touch. But then he opened his eyes and the touch was still there, still warm and gentle, still threading fingers through his hair and sending chills down his spine.

His head lifted in disbelief until he saw those deep green irises barely peering out at him between two heavy eyelids. Unable to think for a moment, he simply stared at her in shock until her lips quirked to the side and she gave him a weak little smirk that was so undeniably Dana it made his heart nearly leap out of his chest.

"Hey," she croaked, her voice scratchy and rough from disuse, her eyebrows knitting together in pain from her dry throat.

Immediately, he reached for the as yet untouched glass of water one of the nurses had brought in for him, holding it carefully for her to take a sip which she gratefully accepted.

She nodded for him to take it away, and cleared her throat. It was at that moment that it truly hit him. She was back. She was awake. She was alive.

He couldn't keep the smile from his face when he simply said, "Hi."

A few moments of silence passed before her smile widened, and an eyebrow lifted, "Well, are you going to kiss me Major, or do I have to come over there? Because one of those two things involves me doing something I'm not quite sure I can do yet."

"You stay right there." He replied, his hand brushing a stray lock of her reddish bangs out of her face and settling on her cheek as he leaned forward and placed a sweet, feather-light kiss on her lips. She smiled against his mouth and arched her neck to bring her face closer until he pulled away, settling his forehead against hers and just taking in the fact that she was alive, and that she was going to be okay. There were a scarce few who could attest to surviving the things they had survived. They had defeated Saren and the geth. She had been launched into space and suffocated to death, only to come back into his life when he had lost all hope of ever seeing her again. Then, she had launched herself into a suicide mission through the Omega 4 relay, taken down the collector homeworld, and returned unscathed with her crew. And now, they had survived an invasion from massive sentient machines hell-bent on wiping out humanity and the rest of civilization as they knew it. He wondered if she still wanted to make good on that early retirement, because he wasn't sure he could handle losing her again.

"Marry me." He said, now that he finally had the chance.

Her smile turned wry and she lifted her head to kiss him again, sliding her weak arms up around his neck and holding him close as their lips parted and she placed her face beside his ear, whispering, "Fuck yes."

Grinning, he withdrew, having expected nothing else from her as the nurse came in to check her vitals after seeing the spectacle and allowing them to have their moment. He held her hand through it all, savouring each moment as if it was his last, when in reality, their lives were only just beginning.