The screams wake Shepard up for the third time that day. He jolts out of his medical cot, sweat soked and staining his bandages, heart racing and eyes straining as they adjust to being awake. It takes a minute for Shepard to register how tight his fists are clenched and when he opens them there are deep indents from his nails in the skin. He stares down at his hands because it's the only thing he can do to try and ignore the fierce sting his burn marks make from the sudden movement.
It burns. It burns just as bad as it did when that…thing sprayed acid on him.
The thrumming of blood rushing his ears fades and the screams come back.
"What did I tell you about moving too quickly?"
Shepard blinks and looks over. At her desk, Dr. Franklin swivels around in her chair and crosses her arms. The doctor's ramrod straight posture is juxtaposed by the deep bags under her eyes and the locks of hair free of her tight bun. Her frown makes Shepard wince just slightly, and the slight retreat to a neutral expression tells she caught his reaction. "The more you flail around like a newborn foal, the longer it'll take to recover."
A non committal hum is all that Shepard responds with; he's distracted by a sink on the otherside of the sickbay with a mirror. The visage that stares back at him is just about as haunting as the screams, maybe moreso. His skin shines a pale blue under the lights, shining from days of light sponge bathing. Dark roots are peeking through his now dulled pink hair and, though he can't see it, a small chunk on the back of his head had burned off from the acid. His own eyes sported signs of poor sleep, deep bags and slightly bloodshot sclera.
Shepard hasn't seen his back since he came back. He doesn't know how he'd react to seeing it anyway.
Dr. Franklin gets up and makes sure Shepard actually sees her before placing a hand on his shoulder. "Since you're awake, we might as well change your dressings."
"Great. My favorite."
"Only for you, Lieutenant." Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she starts unhooking the wraps. It feels as if his own skin is peeling off with them with a fiery agony. He hisses softly as Dr. Franklin passes a more sensitive spot, by his shoulder blade, where the acid had burned longer. The doctor gently coaxes Shepard to stand in order to finish the lower back and legs. Acid scars stretch to unbearable limits and all Shepard can do is grit his teeth.
He's alive at least, that has to count for something. Anything.
Nothing comes to mind.
An icy sting overwhelms Shepard enough to make him gasp. The ointment has so far been the worst part of the recovery process (besides the dreadnought-heavy guilt weighing him down) he never looks forward to. "Feels like I'm bein' greased up like a pig."
"This ointment is barely thicker than regular sunscreen."
"It's a damn shame you aren't some oiled up hottie applying it then-" A quick tug on his ear stops the rest of Shepard's quipping. "Fuck! I'm already suffering here!" Dr. Franklin mutters something about his personality being intact or something like that. The response had been automatic but it didn't feel as if he actually said it, more closely that someone else said it and he had been watching from the outside.
The doors to the sickbay slide open to Captain Rosarìo and Commander Le. Shepard can't help gluing his eyes right onto the captain. Rosarìo, a professional down to his very atoms, keeps his own sight on the doctor. It doesn't matter though. Just being able to see the man takes a little bit of that weight off of him even if it's just a micro amount. "How's the Lieutenant?"
"Getting better by the day. By the time we get to Arcturus, Shepard should make a full recovery. Though I can't say for certain how much physical therapy he might need. I haven't had much of a chance to check for extensive nerve damage, but judging by all his squirming I'm guessing it's minimal."
Shepard has heard the conversation enough times to check out: go to Arcturus, get PT, maybe even talk to a shrink, go back to work. He looks over to Le instead. Before Akuze she had a sharp buzzed crop of dark hair she would fiddle with even more than Shepard would on his own hair. Now though, it has grown out into a messy nest of slightly greasy hair. Le had been taking the situation pretty hard; the fifty crew weren't just Shepard's comrades but hers as well. The Jakarta has become too quiet for either of them in the span of less than a week.
She looks miserable, but so has everyone else left on board.
"Dr. Franklin, I can finish dressing Shepard's wounds. I'd like a moment alone with him." Rosarìo looks over at Le and nods his head towards the door.
"We got intel about what attacked the crew I'm sure you'd be interested in," Le says as she leads Franklin out who hands the captain the roll of bandages. Le gives Shepard a short glance over her shoulder before the doors close.
"Face the mirror." An order, a gentle one that Shepard easily complies to despite his screaming nerves. He grips the sink and for the first time gets an up close look at some of the burns. A little bit of puffed skin peeks over his shoulder red and angry. Rosarìo comes up behind him, gently sets Shepard standing straight and unraps the bandages. It's too easy, ridiculously so, for Shepard to become pliable in the captain's hands, to hand his dignity over because he knows Rosarìo will only take care of him, whisk him away from reality even for just a moment. Any other day Shepard would have leaned into the touch more or say something witty but instead he just feels a knot deep inside of him.
"How bad is it?"
"Hm?"
"My back. I haven't looked at it yet."
Rosarìo stops midway at Shepard's waist to take a moment. Shepard watches Rosarìo study him before continuing his wrapping. "Pretty fucking bad. That tacky back tattoo you had is completely gone."
About what he had been expecting.
"Tito," Shepard says, his voice soft and more vulnerable than he meant it to be. "I can still hear them. I haven't been able to stop."
"You're gonna be hearing them for the rest of your life."
Shepard wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to hear. The captain was never an "everything will be okay" kind of person, he never sugar coated and he never shied away from the truth no matter how unpleasent. Yet he never says anything from a place of spite or petty begrudging. Even if he doesn't like the idea of voices screaming in his head for God knows how long, Shepard knows Rosarìo well enough to realize he's speaking from experience. It'll have to do.
The last of the wrap makes it to Shepard's shoulder blade and is clipped into place. Rosarìo takes him by the forearm and gently turns him around until they are facing each other. The captain is a little over a head taller than Shepard which means he has to crane his head up slightly to look him in the eyes. It hurts but it's just another thing Shepard puts up with to look at the man he…
Well, he just really likes gazing into his dark brown eyes.
"You've lost people before. During the Blitz you've mentioned you lost a pretty sizeable squad," the captain nods as Shepard continues, "what did you do then? I mean, to deal with this shit…"
Rosarìo doesn't say anything at first. His gaze becomes detached as if he's deciding how exactly to craft his answer. Always so technical, so meticulous in how he chooses his words. Was he hesitating? Did he think there was no answer? The captain's hand was still on Shepard's arm and as he contemplated, placed his other hand on the other arm. "What you do—the only thing that you can do—is do better by them. The mission failed, but as long as somebody comes back there's another chance. Just so happens to be you. Keep the memories, the good, bad, ugly, in your heart and honor them all." He smoothes out a greasy lock of pink hair sticking out. "You're still pretty green, Roy, these things will happen again. But you're a strong man, I know that much."
Maybe Shepard doesn't feel strong himself but the words bolster him just slightly. He would kiss the other man if he didn't think Franklin or Le would come in at any moment.
