The first thing John Sheppard, the hero of Elysium did upon waking, was let out a high-pitched whine of pain. He'd hardly remembered what had happened between him being subjected to what felt torture, and waking up wherever he was. "Ah, Shepard, you're awake! I was worried." Was that- was that Dr. Chakwas? Then that must mean he was in the Normandy's medbay. He let out a groan that sounded vaguely like a question, to which the ship's good doctor replied; "Stay down John." When she used that tone, there was no arguments. "Whatever that Beacon did to you, it wasn't good, your brain waves were rather erratic while you were asleep." By this point he'd finally decided to crack open a single eye. He'd definitely remembered the nightmares.

David Anderson was, by all accounts, a patient, even-tempered man. Even if he was getting up there in the years, he still felt spry as ever. His temper however, was a different story. First, Eden Prime was attacked by a completely unexpected entity, The Geth of all things! Then, Nihlus AND Jenkins died, and unless they could scrounge up evidence as to who killed Nihlus and why, the Council would have their asses on a silver platter! And now he'd had his trusted, dependable XO in a goddamn COMA! He was practically a father to that boy, given he'd never really had one during his childhood. He'd thought that being on the same ship would have eased his own worries, and now it's backfired in the worst goddamn way possible! At least he could take consolation in the fact that John had apparently been able to rally command of what seemed to be an almost twenty-strong force of militiamen, the fact that they seemed to be armed with what mostly looked like bolt action rifles made him wonder, and their supposed 'commander' was younger that John was. How in god's name did a man that young gain command of what seemed to be what was left of a militia platoon? And now, here he was. Typing up the report that would go to the Council, and Alliance Command. And he really didn't look forward to typing up that letter of condolences to Jenkins' family. The intercom buzzed, he halted his rapid typing and looked up.

"Yes?" The intercom answered in Doctor Chakwas' voice shortly after. "Captain Anderson, sir? I'd wanted to let you know that Sheppard is awake and requested to see you sir."

He was out the door to his cabin before she'd even finished.

To Ashley, this day just felt like one goddamn guilt trip after the other. First she'd lost here entire goddamn unit! If that wasn't enough, Sheppard had saved her from being pulled in by that damned Beacon, and got knocked into next year for it. And now here she was, pacing in the Normandy's cargo bay, waiting for any news at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see several of those Luftwaffe guys simply lounging around, they'd never let go of their weapons at any point, even when they'd double timed it back to the Normandy, the rapid pace they'd kept were never slowed by their equipment. She could see the Commander, Zaravan was his name, talking with Kaiden whilst sitting on a few cargo crates. She kept pacing.

The Commander was rather worried, he'd figured out at this point that people here didn't get back up. The fact that John apparently hadn't woken up in the few hours since he and his men had gotten on this ship made him worry even more. He liked John, he thought he was a good friend, he was a natural commander too. He'd voiced his worries to Kaiden, who seemed confident in John's apparent natural toughness, and relayed to him and his Command Squad about how he became the Hero of Elysium. "So he really held off an entire fleet of slavers alone?" Kaiden laughed. "Well, he wasn't totally alone, he'd managed to rally what was left of the colony's Garrison, as well as a few local militia to defend a bunker that a lot of the civilians had taken shelter in. He knew they were all that stood between them and the slavers. They fought like it too! By the time Alliance reinforcements showed up, they'd beaten off the last wave of attackers. They'd played that up for weeks! He's practically the Alliance's poster boy, and he got a shiny medal out of the whole thing,too."

With that tale, the Commander's opinion of John Sheppard increased tenfold.

John, in the few minutes since he'd woken up, had found the strength to complete the monumental task of sitting upright. And, while Chakwas was looking over a few charts, he'd taken the liberty of looking around the small medbay. It wasn't long before he'd spotted a few figures to the left of his bed. It was two of the Luftwaffe Troops, he saw one of them on another bed, a blood-soaked bandage covering his left eye. He could see the man's chest moving up and down, he looked to be sleeping. The other one was covered by a sheet, laid out on a stretcher perpendicular to the beds, he could only tell because he could recognize the shined boots they wore. He saw a large splotch of dried blood soiling the white sheet, he was sickened upon realizing that there make out a rather large indenture in the middle of the cadaver's chest, as if it had been caved in. He frowned and tore his gaze away, looking forward. By the time he'd been able to banish the thoughts of the dead man, who but Captain Anderson walked into the medbay, his face etched with worry. He was glad to see him, but he could tell that he was worried as John was about how much of a cluster this whole situation was. So, he'd straightened his back, and prepared for what might be a rather tense debriefing.

He still felt rather tired. But he refused to let it show.