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He's lying in that hospital bed, having only woken up a few days ago. He woke up alone, in a strange place, disoriented. Just like she had, about a year ago now.
So much had happened in that year. For him, but especially or her.
Being on the Normandy again, even if it's not the real Normandy, and even if it was only for a few hours, had been profoundly confronting.
Even more confronting was fighting through a Cerberus base on Mars, under her command.
She'd been cold, distant, rude. Similar to how she'd been on the SR-1 in the early days, but worse; because this time, she was doing it out of spite.
On some level, he deserved it. For how he treated her on Horizon. For not being there for her, the way he'd always said he would be.
But her punishment felt disproportionate to his crime. He knew why, of course; because for her, the crime was out of proportion. A misdemeanor for others, for her a capital offense.
He'd been at her funeral; he couldn't come back from that unchanged. He saw for himself that day how barren her life was, how devoid of connection. No family, no friends who aren't crew. There's no one closer to her in this galaxy than he was; he was all she had back then. She's lost everyone else.
So when, on Horizon, he didn't even give her a chance to explain herself because he was too busy venting his own grief and hurt feelings, when he turned away as she cried, tore himself from her grasp when she reached out for him one last time in heartbroken desperation… it would have been hard for most people to get past.
But for someone like Allie, someone stubborn with a vindictive streak at the best of times, someone who had finally opened up to him after weeks, months of proving she could trust him, that he was dependable, only for him to leave her behind without a backward glance when she needed him most… he wasn't sure whether she ever would get past it. And whether she did or not, he would accept her sentence. Do his time.
But even if they could never be together again, even if he'd already held her for the last time, he hopes they can at least be friends. He'd like to be there for her, to the fullest extent she'll comfortably allow. He'd love to serve with her on the Normandy – it would be hard for him, especially if they weren't together, but nothing he couldn't handle. Not if it meant easing her burden. He owes her at least that much.
He sent her a message yesterday, letting her know he was awake and cleared for visitors. It was one of the first things he had done after waking up and getting his bearings, after the battery of neurological assessments. It was the first thing he had asked as soon as he was extubated, as soon as he had his voice back: "can I have visitors? Could I send a message to someone?"
But she hasn't replied. She's surely busy; there's a war on, with her at the center of it. Maybe it was stupid of him to even bother; stupid, and selfish.
But I'm doing this for her, he thought.
Are you? He wondered.
He was still trying to get to the bottom of his own tangled mess of motivations when the door slid open. He thought it was his nurse at first, and didn't look over right away; most of the time she came in it was just for something small, and she was going right back out again.
But out of the corner of his eye he sees the blonde hair, the tall lanky stature of the woman he loves, walking directly toward him. He turns to greet her, not sure what he'll say – he never thought she'd visit this soon.
"Hey, Shepard! You just missed snack time. Probably a good thing…" he said, his tone strangely too cheery even to his ear, especially once he realizes she's crying.
The second she reaches his bedside she throws her arms down around him with a sob, laying her upper body onto the bed with him with her head on his chest as she bawls.
"Allie…" he says softly, his own voice thick with emotion as he rubs her back, feeling the way she's shuddering and shaking.
He wants to wrap his arms around her, wants to pull her into the bed so he can hold her, just while she's crying. Just to comfort her. Even with two broken shoulders, the amount of pain meds he's on might make it possible; although he has to think his medical team probably wouldn't be too impressed afterward.
"Kaidan," she sobs, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" she's almost unintelligible in her tears, he's never seen her this way. Not even close, not even after Ash's death. She's hysterical, crying like a child. His chest is wet with tears.
"Hey," he says, trying to get her attention, "hey. Allie. Look at me. Look at me, Allie."
She pulls up to face him but doesn't look him in the eye. She looks down at his chest, covering her mouth with her hand as she continues to sob.
"Allie," he murmurs, reaching out to gently take hold of her wrist, pulling her hand from her mouth as his other hand reaches up to wipe away her tears, "Allie, you have nothing to apologize for."
She laughs then, a deep wet sarcastic laugh soaked with tears.
"Do you have any idea," she says, her voice shaky as she struggles to catch her breath, "how ridiculous you sound, saying that? When you look the way you do? When you almost–" her voice breaks and her hand is over her mouth again, "and it's my fault? My fault, that you almost died? My fault that I almost lost you, because I was so–"
"Stop," he says, his heart breaking and his hands reaching for her, "Allie, none of it's your fault. And anyway, I'm fine!" She laughs again, and he does too this time. "Ok, I'm not fine. But I'll be fine. Everything will be fine."
"Okay," she whispers, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Thanks."
She looks up into his eyes for the first time then, and smiles the tiniest smile. She looks so beautiful, she always does. He wants to tell her that, wants to tell her everything he's been thinking, but now isn't the time. There will be time later… hopefully.
She's still smiling as he reaches for her hand, runs his thumb over her knuckles. Maybe a change of subject is in order, and there's something he'd like to know.
"Did you get the data? In the end?"
She closes her eyes as if summoning the will to answer, and he fears the worst.
"You're unbelievable," she whispers, with a quiet laugh under her breath, "you're worse than I am."