Chapter Text
“I've told you, I need to see Commander Shepard.”
“And I've told you. It's not visiting hours.”
“I didn't crawl half way across the damn galaxy just to be turned away now.”
“Look, even if I wanted to let you in, Commander Shepard is restricted to immediate family only.”
“I am immediate family.” Garrus shot back, more sharply than he intended.
The nurse sighed. “Relationship to the patient?”
“I'm her partner.”
“Name?”
“Garrus Vakarian.”
The nurse began typing into the console, expression unreadable.
“I'm afraid there's no contact under that name on record.”
“Then who the hell is?”
“I can't give out confidential patient information.”
“Spirits...” Garrus tried to restrain his temper. “Just tell me who I need to speak to to see her. I'll take this to Hackett if I have to.”
“You can speak to whoever you want.” The nurse said with a shrug, already turning away from him. “I suggest you do that, and come back during visiting hours. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”
She left without another word, leaving Garrus standing alone in the sterile corridor. He clenched his fits, trying to resist the urge to kick something. The last thing he needed was being dragged out the hospital by Alliance security in cuffs.
He glanced around, searching for inspiration. Nothing but white walls, scrubbed clean, but not enough to mask the telltale pockmarks from bullets. He inhaled sharply, nose filling the acrid smell of antiseptic, which did nothing to mask the stench of blood and smoke that still lingered in the air.
Four weeks it had taken to get here. Four damned weeks. He wasn't going to give up now.
He had just settled on calling Joker, when the sound of approaching footsteps made him look up.
“You're here for Shepard?” A woman, middle aged, dressed in a worn Alliance doctor's uniform. Voice clipped and curt.
“Yes, is there-”
“Come with me.” She said, cutting him off.
Garrus got to his feet, following the doctor. She pressed a hand to a scanner, beeping him through a security door.
“How is she? What's going on?”
“She's stable, we've done what we can.”
“What does that mean?”
The doctor stopped in her tracks, turning to him. Garrus took in the dark circles under her eyes, the slight sag to her shoulders. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. Garrus thought that she probably hadn't.
“You need to understand, it was days before Shepard was found. She lost a lot of blood, multiple fractures, a significant blow to the head. It's a miracle she survived at all. If it hadn't been for the cybernetics...” She shook her head. “Well, they're like nothing I've ever seen.”
“So, what are you saying?” Garrus asked hesitantly.
“She's stable, as in: she is breathing with assistance. We threw everything we had at her. There are signs of low level brain activity, but she is not conscious. I'm sorry, that might not be what you want to hear.”
“But she will wake up, right? Eventually?”
The doctor hesitated. “Potentially. At this stage it's hard to say either way. She may be aware of her surroundings. If so, talking to her will help.”
She began walking again, Garrus followed, mulling over the doctor's words. They reached a room, the doctor stepped aside and held the door open.
“Take as much time as you need. If you need anything I'll be at the end of the corridor.”
Garrus hesitated, then stepped forward.
“Thank you, doctor.”
She nodded in response and closed the door behind him.
Garrus wasn't sure what he had expected. But whatever it was, this hadn't been this.
Shepard was almost unrecognisable. The red glow of her cybernetics, hidden beneath beneath her skin since Omega, now obscured her face in angry lines. Her hair was gone. What was left of skin was pink and blistered. Tubing and wires snaked from every part of her, connecting her to machines that beeped and hummed like background noise he couldn't shut out.
His stomach twisted. The image was too close to something else. David Archer, when he had been wired into that system. Garrus swallowed hard, forcing that thought away.
The the tension he had been carrying for weeks, since London, started to unravel, not with relief. But with something else. Heavier, more numb. He felt it coarse through him, consuming him.
He didn't move. He just stood, staring, the weight of it holding him in place.
Eventually, his legs began to ache. He shifted, enough to break his trance and let his eyes survey the room.
White. Clinical. Too bright. Too cold. Medical equipment lines the walls, monitors displaying information he didn't know how to interpret. A chair, battered and plastic placed next to the bed, and a small bedside table, bare except for dog tags, the cool steel scorched and blackened.
Carefully, Garrus crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair. It creaked under his weight. He rested his elbows on the metal bed frame and leaned in close.
“Hey Shepard.”
The words sounded hollow in the sterile air. He took a deep breath trying to gain some composure.
“Hell of a show you caused there. Blowing up the mass relays? Not the most subtle of approaches, but it worked. But uh, took me four weeks to get back here. Blame Joker for that one, landed us in some remote part of Salarian space.”
He laughed dryly.
“Glad to see even though you're some big war hero though, you can still obey orders. And I uh, suppose I have to apologise.” He hesitated. “I didn't duck. If I had... Well, I would have.... I should have.” He exhaled again, more heavily this time. “Been there. With you.”
He sat silent for a while, listening to the rhythmic beeps of the monitors.
“Have to say though. I'm damn proud of you. We all are. And when you wake up... Well.” He leaned in closer.
“Drinks are on me.”
The doctor was exactly where she said she would be, eyes fixed on or five screens, each with displaying different load outs.
“What do you need?” Garrus said abruptly.
“More staff, for a start.” Her gaze did not waver from the screens.
“For Shepard. What do you need? Name it.” That caught her attention. She got to her feet and stepped out from behind the desk.
“Nothing.” She said calmly.
“Credits, specialists. Name it. I can ask the hierarchy, they owe her.”
“And they would offer nothing more than the Alliance has already done.” Her tone was steady, but firm. She placed a hand against his shoulder. “And even if were possible, I wouldn't agree to it.”
“Why would you-How could you-”
“What Shepard needs now is rest and time. Even if this was normal times and I had all the resources I wanted, I wouldn't do more.”
Garrus stuttered in response, but she pressed on. “It took me eight hours to separate her skin from her armour. They had fused in the heat. And that was after we spent two weeks stabilising her. No further treatments now. She needs time to recover and heal. I know you care. But the Alliance have already thrown everything they have at her. More than they would any other solider. The rest is up to her.”
Garrus remained silent, struggling to process the information. The doctor held his gaze, but her expression softened slightly.
“Visiting hours are three to five. If anyone gives you trouble at the desk tell them I said you could be here. Now get some rest, you look exhausted.”
He stayed silent, before nodding.
“Thank you.”