Mass Effect - Fragments

Chapter 6 - Homecoming

The journey to the Citadel was uneventful - he had bid adieu to his mother, saluting her in the airlock, embracing her one last time with promises to cook her dinner once he'd got the Citadel apartment sorted, that'd he'd be back without a fleet of mind-flaying spaceships next time he came to visit.

He spent the voyage going over reports of rebuilds, Spectre requisitions and numbers (via Kaidan) and looking through the various newsfeeds. He had yet to receive a reply, but after the revelations of that unpleasant evening he wasn't surprised. He hid his pain well, but he knew all too well that feeling of grief, how it was an abyss you walked along carefully. He had considered an explanation in detail - how the Alliance had hidden his survival whilst he was in a coma, how he had tried contacting the fleet, but that the comm buoys were so saturated. But logic wasn't really a factor in this.

They were two days into the journey, waiting for a relay to spin into activation, whilst Shepard was training. Down in the hangar bay, he railed against a punch-bag, trying to favour his injured leg, to build up strength. Miranda watched nearby, checking readings on a data-pad. Vega was leaning against the weapon bench, watching carefully. Miranda had sighed and approached the Admiral, who continued railing against the sandbag.

"Shepard."

Thud. Thud thud. Thud thud thud.

"Shepard… hello?"

Thudthudthud. Thud. Thudthudthudthud.

"Shepard!"

THUD - the sandbag snapped from its restraint and split, spilling the contents across the hangar bay. At the back Steve Cortez, shuttle pilot in residence groaned as yet another chore for the day reared its head. Shepard, breathing heavily, turned a wincing gaze on Miranda.

"Yes, Lawson?"

"You need to ease up. I know we said constant physical therapy is a must, but you're pushing your knee too hard, not to mention your scapula. Tear that again and it'll strain your right arm too much," she sighed and shook her head, "I hope Chakwas is right about those supplies at the Citadel - we may need to replace the whole leg."

Shepard blinked in surprise, "What?"

Miranda had the good grace to appear awkward, but she was soon businesslike again, "It's the joint - the cybernetics there haven't just fused, they've fragmented. It's wearing at the bone. And the meshing is too deep - we can't replace it. Looks like you'll either have to slow down or we're looking at a replacement sooner rather than later. We can clone you a limb, Admiral, but it may take months. We need to cool down on the therapy."

Shepard limped over to a crate at the edge of the ad hoc gym and sank onto it. He nodded his thanks as Vega tossed him a towel, which he draped across his shoulders. Easing his left leg out slowly, he grimaced.

"I want to argue with you Miranda. But yeah, it's not brilliant. News keeps getting better - no active duty for me. Desks and paperwork. Universe loves throwing me curveballs.

A cloned leg though…?"

"We wouldn't be cloning a whole body of spares, Shepard, just the limb. We definitely do not want a repeat of the last cloning debacle."

"Yeah, the Citadel sounds damaged enough. Plus don't need you and Jack getting into another near catfight. Traynor'd rip her a new one," Vega barked a laugh and Shepard allowed himself a smug smirk as Miranda blushed, "How is that going anyway?"

"None of your business, Admiral. If you had forgotten, I'm not Alliance, so it isn't fraternisation."

"So, pretty serious then."