Pain. Horrible, biting, spine-tingling pain. It took Shepard a second to register that it was radiating from her lower abdomen. Befuddled, her hand drifted down there as the mad woman stepped back. Her fingers instantly felt slick, warm wetness. She dropped her head down in disbelief and blinked, her mind slowly processing what was happening. A tool of some sort, probably gardening shears, was sticking out by the handles from above her skirt's waistband but below the bulletproof vest. Shepard could see red beginning to spread on her white shirt. The woman still grasped the weapon, struggling to hold Shepard against it. Shepard had to guffaw. It was the most absurd thing. Some older woman out for a walk at the cemetery had stabbed her with gardening shears.

"You see, I'm not very good at this. I wanted you to be able to feel everything, but I also didn't want you kicking and screaming. I don't think anybody wants to deal with you at your full strength. Well, back then. I don't know about now. Everyone says you're part machine. Didn't know the right dose, so I took a stab at it." The other woman giggled.

Shepard decked the woman in the face as hard as she could. There was a crunch of bone as she went down against the marble floor. Shepard approached her, but she found her steps heavy and stumbling. She touched whatever was impaled in her, causing a burning sensation to rip though her. Shepard had been injured many, many times, but this really, really hurt. Removing it at the current moment, however, was likely a death sentence. The blood loss would leave her weak and vulnerable before killing her, if this bitch didn't get to it first.

"Why-y?" Shepard asked. It was hard to get her mouth to form the words. Without her gun on her, she didn't have much in the way of weapons. Shepard lifted her wrist to activate the blade function on her omni-tool, but her fingers were clumsy. The woman pressed a hand to her face, and a stream of red was dripping from her nose. She gathered herself up and was coming for Shepard. Despite her frantic attempts to activate her omni-blade, Shepard was unable to by the time the woman grabbed her again. Her bionic legs remained upright although her body as a whole felt on the verge of collapse.

"I've got you," the woman spoke in her ear, seating Shepard down against the wall. Her back started to slack, but the other woman propped her up. "Those muscle relaxants are starting to kick in. Not fast enough though."

Shepard's arms fell limply to her side as the woman searched her purse and removed a handkerchief, wiping her upper lip. Shepard found her muscles becoming loose and motionless, and breathing was becoming laborious. She was trapped within herself and listless prey for this crazy woman. "Why?"

"What's that? The bombing? That's where it all started. I have some old Cereberus contacts, and there's a new arm that's appeared. I gave them funding, I tried to help them – but they couldn't get the job done, clearly. Figured it'd be the best way to take you down without giving away my name.

"The shooting?"

"I paid a hitman. But in my defense, he came with great recommendations! I mean, he used a batarian's gun! How ingenious. If only he had taken a clear shot. Then your friend would still be here."

"Why?"

"This, all of this," the woman whispered, pressing her weight on the weapon as she drew closer to Shepard. "This is for my husband. You killed him."

Shepard's hazy mind tried to process the information, but her back gave way. Her head smacked against the ground, but it wasn't a strong enough blow to knock her out.

"What can't remember him? Why am I not surprised? The almighty Shepard, savior of the universe, has killed too many to count."

Shepard's vision was fading to white, and she could barely make out the woman's words. Her thoughts were no longer on trying to figure out what was going on and who the woman was. Now she was trying to generate enough panicked energy to keep her lungs going. Her whole body felt sluggish, and she wanted to close her eyes so badly, but she had to fight it if it was the last thing she did – which was likely at this point. Shepard had been to this rodeo before, and she knew the score.

Shepard heard the slap across her cheek before she truly registered it. Thankfully, it caused her eyes to jump back open, which also appeared to be a goal of the woman's too. "You will hear his name before you die – Oleg Petrovsky. One of the many who suffered at your hands."

Petrovsky, the Cerberus general whom Aria had unceremoniously executed on Omega, despite Sherpard's objections. With her strength waning, Shepard reached out for the woman's hand with her own, blood-soaked as it was. "I'm- I'm sorry," she sputtered, struggling to form the syllables. Her tongue felt like a foreign object in her mouth. It was true. She had not wanted Aria to kill Petrovsky, when he could have been of use to the Alliance.

"You're sorry?" Mrs. Petrovsky's hysteria seemed to have died down, replaced by hurt. "It's too late for that." She wiped away a tear slowly cascading down her face, careful to use the one unsullied by Shepard's blood. "Any last words?"

Shepard found it oddly amusing. There wasn't a chance to have last words during her other near-death experiences and that time she actually had kicked the bucket. Unfortunately, the words wouldn't form. Her vision was as fuzzy as ever, and all she could make out was the pounding of her own heart. Shepard wanted to keep pressure on her abdomen, but she found she couldn't really move her limbs anymore.

She wasn't able to tell how much time passed before she sensed the vibration of the floor as the door seemingly opened. Great, the woman was probably escaping before anyone came, and she'd finish bleeding out all over the nice marble. She'd laugh if she could. Her eyes closed, and she could only feel reverberations of sound. Something slammed and there were footsteps. Others? Cleaning up and getting the hell out of dodge?

Shepard felt fingers at her pulse and hands on her stomach. Damn it, they were going to finish the job. Hands then shook her roughly by the shoulders. They wanted her conscious for it apparently. Even if she wanted to open her eyes, her eyelids were so heavy, and thoughts moved through her brain as if they were passing through molasses.

Bright light invaded her eyesight as her lids were pried open. They wanted to shut close, but the fingers wouldn't let her reflexes take hold. Her pupils adjusted slightly, and a figure came into focus. Instead of looking at her attacker, Shepard was face-to-face with Kaidan.

She was so happy. Maybe happier that she had ever been. At least this time he'd be at her side. It seemed less terrifying than before. Of course, she couldn't understand a thing he was saying, and she didn't seem able to speak. It was rather difficult to get a clear image of his face, but at least he was here. She could tell he was upset, though. That hurt. She didn't want him to. Shepard wished to smooth away all of the rough edges, to close the chapter, to leave without any emotions except a sense of achievement, a feeling of everything being just okay. But she was entombed within herself and seeing him hover over her turned out to be less of comfort as she panicked, wanting to break out of her shell and say something, hear something, do something. Instead, she was left screaming at herself until the voice within faded away, and there was nothing anymore.