Jillian Shepard paced back and forth outside the med-bay for what must have been hours. She could hear her heart thumping in her ears…this couldn't be happening. Jillian Alexis Shepard, angel of death…that is what her rank should have been, not commander, not N7. Everyone she came to love seemed marked with a death sentence. Her parents, her sister, Nihlus…and now Garrus lay in critical condition, having taken a rocket to the face on Omega. The prognosis was grave.
A lot had happened since Nihlus had fallen on Virmire. They had defeated Saren and Sovereign…saved the Destiny Ascension…and Garrus had been so good to her. He was already her best friend…but those months after Nihlus passed he'd been by her side almost every waking moment. Her rock, her closest confidant…and then the collectors ripped through the SR-1 like it was a sheet of tissue paper. Jillian had fought hard to get everyone on board to safety, and the price was her life. She gladly died—asphyxiated in her own armor—completely spaced for the people she loved. A fitting and noble end for the great Commander Shepard—savior of the Citadel. Only it wasn't. She didn't get the ending she wanted. Cerberus had pieced her back together and here she was…alive and putting good, innocent people in harm's way. What else was new?
She needed Garrus to pull through, this wasn't like it had been with Nihlus. She knew she couldn't go on without Garrus. And that was when it hit her. As much as she had adored her sweet Nihlus…why hadn't she seen that it was always Garrus? Always would be Garrus? Even before Nihlus had passed Garrus was the one she always consulted before big decisions, always told her secrets and her fears to, always the one she secretly agonized over during missions—making herself sick over his safety. She was as in love with him as he was with her and now it could be too late.
Their relationship had always appeared so professional to everyone else on the Normandy…but Joker had admitted to her only a few short hours before, when they first rushed Garrus into surgery—that that image had completely crumbled at her funeral two years prior. Garrus had been known for his 'second in command' type relationship with Shepard, and had been asked to eulogize her. Joker said every Turian in the room almost had to leave—that they'd described his subharmonics as being unbearable, broken, and madly in love. It made Jillian sick to her stomach to imagine the kind of pain he must have been feeling.
He disappeared right after the funeral and no one heard from him again until Shepard, Miranda, and Zaeed had found him taking out mercs on Omega under the vigilante codename 'Archangel'. Joker had laughed it off, remarking that Garrus had finally removed the stick from his ass and started beating people to death with it—but Jillian didn't think it was funny at all. What had her death done to him? This was a man who had fallen in love with his commanding officer, a woman he idolized—and then was forced to internalize that passion out of both respect for her and for her lover, who was a Turian of greater importance in the hierarchy than him. He suffered beautifully, being the kind of companion he knew she needed instead of the one he wanted to be…and then boom—right before his eyes the one person he thought truly understood him in the whole damn galaxy gave her life for his. For all of them. Of course, he was emotionally destroyed, she would have been too. She was torn from these thoughts as she heard Jacob clear his throat from near the elevator. She wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks before he could see and turned to give him a sharp glare.
"What?" She didn't mean to be an ass to her new crew member, but they hadn't been on the SR-2 for very long and he'd already come on to her just about every time she went to see him. He reminded her too much of Liara. Jacob flinched slightly at the severity of her tone.
"I need to see you in the com room, Commander." Jillian shook her head wildly.
"No, absolutely not. Not until I get news about Garrus." Jacob sighed.
"The Turian is why I need to see you, Shep." She almost scoffed in disgust, her name was Commander or Shepard to him, not Shep and certainly not 'Jill', as he'd quickly learned not to call her after what Miranda was calling the 'engineering incident of 2185" (Shepard had offered Engineer Donnelly 20 credits to help her program a string of profanities to voice over the coms any time Jacob attempted to use her first name. The Illusive Man was not amused'). She decided to not be difficult, too worried about Garrus to do much other than begrudgingly follow Jacob into the elevator. An awkward silence ensued as the lift took its sweet time going only one floor above them. Shepard marched into the com room and stood by the FTL, half expecting EDI to give her some sort of status report on her friend's health. That didn't seem to be the case as the door closed behind Jacob. Oh, great…Jillian thought to herself slowly, wondering what he could possibly want regarding Garrus,
"So…Archangel. He'll be a great asset to the team Shepard, good work." Jillian nodded at him professionally, a short and concise 'thank you' of sorts, though she knew the conversation wasn't going to end there, she could see it in his eyes.
"I don't like to rush these kind of talks, Commander." He started, causing Shepard to raise an eyebrow incredulously at him. Oh, really, Jacob? Why don't we ask EDI if that's true, I'm sure she's heard it all, she thought.
"However, I have to ask. I've heard things from the other crew members…and read some things in your files. Word seems to be that you don't remember what color your blood is…that you only date Turian's. Is that true?" The only member of the crew so far that had been part of the original team (besides Garrus) was Joker…damn him and his big mouth.
"I don't see how that is any of your business, Mr. Taylor." Jacob laughed.
"I thought you might say that. You're a bit of a hard ass, Shepard. Everyone acts like you try to be best friends with the crew, but that's not been the case on the new Normandy. You trying to play hard to get or do you really not trust Cerberus that much?" Shepard sighed. She really didn't have time for Jacob and his bullshit. She was in the middle of forming a response to that when the doors swung open and Jillian's breath was knocked out of her so quick you'd have thought she'd just received a biotic kick to the gut.
"I didn't expect you to be up so quickly, you really are a fighter, huh?" Jacob marveled with a chuckle, folding his arms and following Shepard's awestricken gaze toward the silhouette standing before them. Those grey eyes…those long, sturdy mandibles…that beautiful face. There he was, her Garrus, standing before her proud as ever despite the new scar that now marred the right half of his face. There was a thick gauze around his right mandible, but that didn't stop him from beaming at her.
"They wouldn't let me see a mirror, how bad is it?" Her heart nearly burst, her skin prickling at the very sound of his raspy voice, though she held herself together long enough to manage a weak laugh.
"Hell, you've always been ugly, Garrus. Just slap some paint over it and no one will know the difference." His laugh gave her life, though it broke her heart to hear him choke it back a bit in physical pain.
"I hear some women have a thing for men with scars…those women are usually Krogan but…" He trailed off, giving Shepard a meaningful look, his eyes widening in surprise as she visibly returned it. His throat tightened with hope, damning the fact that humans couldn't be read by subharmonics. Was she interested in him the same way he was interested in her? Was that even possible. The Turian smiled again, or as much of a smile as a Turian is capable of giving…and this was the image that was swirling around in Jillian's head as she lay unconscious and strapped in a lonely hospital bed.
Jillian Shepard had been in a coma for eight months following the destruction of the Reapers via the Crucible. Rescued by a Turian warship fleeing the initial blast, she had been kept alive on a ventilator for several months. It was only recently that she'd been capable of breathing on her own, one such breath being the whispered word "Garrus." It was the first and only sign of real life that had come from the Commander since the Turian's had brought her on board. The crewmen of the Normandy were famous galaxy wide now, and everyone knew exactly which Garrus that needed to be contacted. The Garrus that had taken Shepard up to the Presidium of the Citadel and declared his love, the Garrus who showed up on the arm of the Commander to a high-profile party and danced the night away with her, the Garrus who tangoed with her in a shady night club and ran straight through hell to help the love of his life take down the Reapers. Garrus Vakarian. They sent word to the Normandy and prayed it was received, though little was known of how much could actually be done. The destruction of the Reapers had severely damaged the Mass Relays…even if the Normandy had intercepted their distress call, there was no way of knowing if they had any way of returning for her.
Meanwhile, the Normandy had indeed received the message, and a certain Turian was busting his ass to get the love of his life back. He had just known she was alive, he could feel it. There was a reason he'd refused to hang her name on the wall memorializing the dead, and now that his suspicion had been confirmed nothing was going to get in his way. His Jillian was out there somewhere, and she was sick, hurting, possibly dying. He was going to save her, and he'd been working with the alliance navy for many long, hard months in order to do it. Three years and counting and she'd never once given up on him, he wasn't about to give up on her now.
"Admiral Hackett, tell me it's ready. The longer she waits the higher the chance is that I lose her. I need to get her in the Normandy's med bay immediately." Hackett sighed, Garrus had been singing this same old song and dance for so long that it was beginning to make his eyes cross. Never would have thought a Turian would ever fight this hard for the love of one human woman, but if it had to be just one he was glad it was Shepard; after all she shit she'd been through she deserved to be happy. He shot Garrus a lopsided smile.
"I think I'm about to make your day." Garrus didn't wait for an explanation, shaking Hackett's hand firmly and slinging a bag full of Jillian's belongings over his shoulder. Vakarian marched off toward one of the only working alliance vessels and threw a sniper rifle in the lot just in case, hardly waiting for the okay before he shot off toward the mass relay like a bat out of hell.
As for the Turian warship, it was run by a Captain Ganins who was working his way hopefully back to Palaven, the Turian homeworld. He had his best doctor, a female Turian by the name of Alvera watching over Jillian. Alvera's notes were detailed, and today she was pretty hopeful that the Commander might finally open her eyes. She was seeing a lot more brain activity than normal, though it was disheartening that she couldn't seem to do anything to aid said stimulation. She was working diligently on some complicated brain scans when there was a soft knock on the door.
"Dr. Ranklier, we have an alliance ship dispatching a signal nearby, requesting to land. I think we finally got through to them." Alvera's heart leapt into her throat. This might just be her best chance at waking Shepard up. The doctor rushed from the room, eager to meet the man that was ranked so highly in the great Commander Shepard's life, though her first impression would not be as warm and welcoming as she might have liked. The moment Garrus was on board he brushed passed her quickly, practically knocking her over as he barreled toward Jillian's bedside. He stood and looked at her in silence for a long moment, unsure of what to do next. She looked so fragile…he never remembered her being so pale. Her favorite pink make-up was long wiped from her face, her long blonde hair unkempt and spilling over the sides of the bed. She looked like…death. He reached very slowly for her hand and clutched it tightly, it was cold.
"Mr. Vakarian?" Alvera asked evenly, watching curiously as so many different emotions washed over the other Turian. Garrus didn't respond, kneeling at his girlfriend's side and pulling her hand to his face to kiss it softly. Nothing.
"How long will she be like this?" He finally asked, his eyes frozen on her like icy grey pools. Alvera shrugged.
"She's been like this since we found her. I was hopeful that today things might change, her brain activity is off the charts, but I don't seem to be able to—" Garrus cut her off, having heard all he needed to hear.
"Jillibean…come on, open your eyes for me. I know you can do it." Shepard had been weird about being called Jill, after all it was the name that Nihlus called her most often. Garrus had quickly improvised with something cuter, though he'd usually only dare use the term of endearment privately. Hoping it would spark something, he whispered the nickname one more time, running a talon through her pale locks and watching her intently as she breathed. Her hand twitched ever so slightly, and encouraged hum coming from Vakarian. He thought for a few moments, nervously clearing his throat as he felt Alvera's eyes on him. The pressure was on to make this work.
"Shepard, honey, if you don't talk to me I'm going to have to leave. You don't want that, do you?" Of course, Garrus had no intention of going anywhere, he'd stay by her side for another year if he had to, but if he knew anything about Shepard it was that she hated goodbyes. When he got no reaction, he bent down to kiss her very gently on the mouth, uttering a parting phrase against the delicate duvet of her lips before pretending to walk away. Garrus was a little discouraged when nothing happened, about to resign himself to taking a seat in the floor near her bed when all of a sudden her eyes fluttered. Garrus immediately clamored to help her, holding her head in his hands as those beautiful lavender eyes of hers finally started to open.
"Shepard? I'm going to help you sit up, alright?" Jillian groaned groggily and looked around in bewilderment, as if she were seeing for the very first time.
"G-Garrus?" The Turian shushed her gently, helping her sit all the way up as Alvera went to remove Shepard's IV's. She was dead quiet for a few moments before all of a sudden she flew into a panic.
"What happened? What about the Reapers? Are they gone? Did we…did we win? I…you…your face, I was so scared…scared you wouldn't wake up after Omega." Garrus's heart stopped for a beat, fear creeping up his veins as he realized she might be experiencing amnesia.
"Omega? Jillian…is that the last thing you remember?" He gripped her hand harder, panic beginning to set in when she didn't respond right away. What if she didn't remember them being together? Didn't remember them being in love? She blinked a few times, attempting to sort out dream from reality.
"No…I…. your face, it's healed now. We saved you, you're safe, I made sure you were safe. Safe from mercs, safe from Collectors…from Reapers." Garrus swallowed hard.
"Do you remember the last thing I said to you before the final mission?" Jillian smiled broadly, seeming to regain a little of her personality as she reached to very gently caress the side of Garrus's face where the scar was.
"You told me you loved me." Garrus nuzzled into her touch with a relieved sigh and leaned in for another kiss, which Shepard happily leaned into. Garrus pulled the hair tie from Shepard's wrist and very carefully pulled her hair back into the bun that was always planted firmly atop her head. He'd watched her do her hair many times on the Normandy, and something about it being loose and tangled just wasn't right.
"There, all better?" He asked sweetly, watching as her face brightened. She was remembering more and more; he could see the old Jillian shining through. Before long she shot into his arms, hold him tightly as an airy laugh rung out from within her.
"I'm so glad you made it." She whispered. "I thought I'd never see you again." Garrus chuckled and shrugged it off with typical Vakarian banter.
"You know I'm not easy to kill, Jillian. And we can be damn well sure that you're going to live forever with as many times as you've come back to me from the dead." She laughed.
"I can't die before we have that human-turian baby you promised me." She was kidding, he knew, but there was a slight flicker of something that coursed through him when she said it, some unnamed emotion that gnawed at a small corner of his heart. He hadn't been kidding when he had proposed that kind of life to her, it was what he wanted. He lay his forehead against hers gently and sighed.
"We gotta get you home first. Come on, I have your things." And with that, he helped the Commander to her feet and walked her back to the shuttle carefully, his eyes devouring her every move. He was going to keep her safe this time, not the other way around, and if they had to spend the rest of their lives stuck on the Normandy that was okay. He didn't care about getting back to any homeworld or fixing all the relays. All he wanted was right here with him, and he'd be damned if he was losing her a third time.