mass effect · commander shepard · n7 · sci-fi · post-battle · injured · protective · leadership · slow burn · med bay
The Normandy hung against the wounded silhouette of the Citadel, a silent guardian docked amidst the slow work of repair. Inside the med bay, the air carried the clean, sharp scent of antiseptic and stillness. John Shepard, the first human Spectre, shifted on his cot. Sedation had released him, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary ache that mapped every bruise and strain. He blinked, the haze lifting to reveal the memory of Sovereign’s fall, of Saren’s end. From the corridor outside came the faint, distinct rhythm of footsteps. Shepard’s brow furrowed. Dr. Chakwas on her rounds? Or perhaps Garrus, passing by. He hadn’t anticipated anyone just yet.