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As yet another news story about the defeat of the Reapers flashed across the screen in front of her, Aeian T'Goni sighed in frustration as she turned off the TV. She rose to her feet, finally allowing her restlessness to take over as she paced around the small living area in her new apartment. The apartment was nothing more than a singular room with little space for belongings beyond the essential. It suited her – she surrendered her personal possessions when she left to join the fight against the Reapers – but the mere fact that she was living in an otherwise considered luxury apartment on the Presidium while so many others remained homeless bothered her endlessly.
Of course, following the end of the war, the term “luxury apartment” was readjusted to fit a new definition best described as “any living space still in-tact and habitable”, and in Aeian's case, also included the added bonus of having a pleasant view out the window of the least damaged area of the Citadel. She had protested to the apartment at first, but soon came to realise it was selected for her by the staff at Huerta Memorial Hospital for a reason. It was local to the hospital in a relatively secluded apartment block without any neighbouring humans, but with enough people around to reach out to so that she wasn't completely isolated. Aeian still didn't fully believe she deserved the consideration that was put into helping her survive beyond her release from the hospital but she had come to trust the staff enough to accept their judgement.
That was part of the reason why she felt so frustrated. As she continued to pace, more images from the news vids replayed in her mind like a persistent, worsening itch. During the war, so much effort was dedicated to helping her recover. With the hospital overwhelmed, flooded with other soldiers and refugees in more need than herself, it was almost a miracle that Huerta Memorial Hospital was able to hold it together at all. Especially when she first arrived, back when she was terrified and acted unkindly to anyone who tried to help her, they didn't give up to make room for someone else or allow her to have the gun she intended to use to end her life. “Lucky” was a hard word to associate with herself after everything that had happened at Tiptree, but she was beginning to consider her survival more fortunate than if she had died.
It was a thought that had recently began to motivate her. There had to be something she could do to help, something she could do to make her survival truly worthwhile; the influx of people to the hospital hadn't seemed to ease even weeks after the end of the war and there were thousands more in need that couldn't get to Huerta Memorial Hospital or any other hospital on the Citadel. According to reports, groups of civilian volunteers were steadily making a presence on the space station, each focused on an individual skill or task. Some were helping in hospitals or refugee hubs while others took a more freelance approach, delivering supplies between wards or acting as caretakers for wounded neighbours or even strangers.
Aeian shifted through her options, filtering the viable from the unviable given her circumstance. She had come far since arriving on the Citadel – especially now, with the Reapers gone and unable to physically harm her again – but her PTSD meant that she found certain situations difficult to cope with. The loud, shrill noises that were common among refugees with babies ruled out the possibility of helping families with young children. There was also the risk of having to expose herself to crowds of humans. While in the hospital, she was gradually re-introduced to interacting with the species and though it was no easy feat, she could now spend time with human individuals or a small group of humans for a short duration of time. It was more than Aeian thought possible, but considering the amount of comfort she'd taken from knowing her neighbours consisted entirely of salarians and turians, she knew that she wasn't ready yet to take on the challenge of larger human groups.
It was then that a lightbulb switched on in her head. Aeian stopped pacing, pulled up a seat in what just about passed as a kitchen (though it was more like a miniature counter, desk and one chair) and reached for her still warm cup of tea. Volunteering with humans wasn't a possibility for her at this stage but she did have her experience as an ex-asari huntress and could aid the recovery effort in other ways. She was used to working with groups of commandos. Before Tiptree, she'd often taken leadership roles, using her intelligence and ability to think quickly on her feet to contribute to the success of the mission. There was no battlefield now, no enemies to attack but there were still people that could benefit from her skills.
Aeian's thoughts turned back to the indoctrinated humans at the colony, the horrible memory of their bodies being torn apart by her biotics still a painful wound. She couldn't do anything to save them but she could use her skills to help the lives around her moving forward. That left her with the question: what could she do?
Maybe she could assemble a group to help her deliver medication and food supplies to the housebound or homeless. Or maybe she could use her biotics to do the heavy-lifting needed to clean up and rebuild parts of the Citadel. Both of these were good options, but then a third, more appealing idea entered her mind. Perhaps there was a chance she could volunteer for Huerta Memorial Hospital itself.
A spark of determination flickered inside Aeian, and although she knew there wasn't a huge chance – she had some medical training as a commando but she was by no means a professional – there was a part of her that felt hopeful that there would be some other way she could assist them. Transport to and from hospitals on the Citadel was sporadic at best, with taxi services overwhelmed and many peoples' personal skycars destroyed in the fighting. There was a need for more people who could give lifts to the hospital. She could use the credits that were given to her by the asari government alongside her medal to buy a cheap skycar that could get the job done. Until now, she had kept the money untouched, unwilling to splash out on anything for herself. The idea that she could use it to benefit others seemed brilliant.
But then, taking people to the hospital wouldn't be of much use if Huerta Memorial Hospital didn't have enough medical supplies to treat its patients. From her memory of the hospital before her release, the medical facility was coping with the increased amount of people seeking treatment but it definitely wasn't thriving. Aeian figured there were probably volunteers already bringing in supplies to Huerta Memorial Hospital. If she could join the effort, do her part to prevent the hospital from collapsing under the demands being placed on it, she could finally give something back to the staff who had worked so hard to help her get better.
That's if they believe I'm stable enough. The thought hit her like a brick and brought an immediate end to her brainstorming. The familiar doubt began to manifest in her mind before being pushed back by the newer, more logical reasoning she had developed over time at the hospital. She'd spent months in Huerta Memorial Hospital, she knew the people who worked there and had eventually even become accustomed to the human staff. They knew her, too – they knew how far she'd come since arriving – and that was exactly why they felt she was ready to leave. If they felt she was unstable, they wouldn't have found her an apartment right here on the Presidium. They believed that she was ready for her own place to live and it's likely they'll feel she's ready to contribute to the recovery effort too.
Again, Aeian's thoughts returned to the events at Tiptree. She saw their faces: the colonists, their features distorted, slaughtered first by Neaira and later by her own hands; Neaira, her once gentle friend horrifically transformed, twisted into something that was barely even the shell of what she was before; Hilary, clear as day, escaping together to the safety of the hills only to return, her life sacrificed for the sake of the data that saved thousands more. Aeian wondered whether they'd find some solace in knowing that at least some good came out of the carnage. She wondered, not for the first time, whether it was enough to redeem herself for the role she played in what had happened.
Aeian pushed herself back out of her seat. She kept the cup of tea clutched between her hands – a comforting warmth she didn't feel like giving up just yet – and leaned against the sill of her window as she did her best to turn her focus away from the disturbing thoughts. There was no way she could ask them now. She could only hope that, moving forward, she could continue to honour them with her survival by helping to save even more lives as the galaxy rebuilds rather than fights.
As she continued to gaze out the window, Aeian came to a decision. Whether the staff at Huerta Memorial Hospital could find use for her by having her drive people to the hospital, delivering supplies, or any other tasks they needed help with, Aeian could make a difference and ease the burden of their work. She still attended appointments at Huerta Memorial Hospital but she didn't feel like waiting to speak to them about this. Best to do it now. That way, regardless of the outcome, she'll be able to see how things go and plan her next steps accordingly.
With determination, Aeian spun away from the window and made her way towards the door. It was time to visit Huerta Memorial Hospital and give new purpose to her survival once and for all.