AN: Poem excerpt by Tecumseh. I highly suggest reading the entire thing. Also, science is like black magic to me, so please excuse the liberal use of my artistic license in this chapter. One more thing: I realize that certain sections of this chapter might be a little cheesy. I honestly couldn't help myself :) An enormous thank you to everyone who has been reading, following, and especially reviewing!
Parts of a Whole
After all the trickery and manipulation that the Shadow Broker had put them through, Garrus thought that playing the waiting game wouldn't be much of a challenge. He was wrong. Knowing that he was powerless to do anything to affect the situation was far worse than having to plot their next move against the Broker. To add to his misery, Shepard remained in surgery several hours longer than Dr. Morae had initially estimated. Miranda tried to belay his concerns by assuring him that the Cerberus cybernetics specialists were just being thorough. That didn't stop him from trying to wear a trench into the area outside the operating room with his pacing.
When one of the Cerberus doctors exited the operating room, Garrus and Kaidan practically jumped him as he tried to head down the hallway. The doctor looked at them through narrowed eyes. "I'm only authorized to speak with Operative Lawson," he told them off.
"Out with it, Locke." Luckily, Miranda had been just around the corner.
Dr. Locke shifted his stance so that he was only facing Miranda, though he didn't bother trying to keep Garrus or Kaidan from listening in. "Her vitals have all stabilized. Heart rate is a little slower than normal, but that's expected in comatose patients. We've also completed reconstruction on the skeletal fractures. However, repairs on the intramuscular weaves should take another four hours."
"Four hours," Miranda said, nodding. Garrus and Kaidan were both visibly relieved. At least everything was progressing smoothly. "Got it." Locke waited for some show of gratitude, but Miranda was already finished speaking with him. She looked at the other two. "I recommend you get some rest. I'll be in Oriana's room down the hall if anything happens."
They both decided that it was a reasonable enough suggestion. Besides, Garrus had some unfinished business to take care of.
Samara and Thane accompanied Garrus to Daryn Forsythe's hideout. The front door was still propped open with the black door jamb, and they had no trouble getting inside. Inside the stairwell, there were very few signs of battle. No bodies and only trace amounts of blood. Garrus remembered Liara saying something about sending a clean-up crew to eliminate the remnants of the carnage when they checked in with her earlier. He imagined her secretary, Nyxeris, being folded up into a body bag and incinerated unceremoniously in a nearby industrial plant. At least Liara wouldn't have to send anyone to clean up the warehouse in the downtown district. That problem had incinerated itself. Along with the body of their most recent and short-lived team member.
They trudged up the stairs in silence, hesitating when they reached the threshold of Daryn's former apartment. The door had been hacked by agents of the Shadow Broker during the invasion, useless in keeping out any intruders. Apparently Liara's people had been instructed only to deal with the bodies. Samara's ice blue eyes swept over the damage. Damage she herself had inflicted when the Broker's agents ambushed them. She knew that it hadn't yet been three days since that ambush, yet to her, it could have occurred centuries ago. She followed Garrus and Thane into the apartment, letting them take the lead. She remembered the first time she'd set foot in Daryn's hideout, shaking her head in disapproval at the decadence of the turian's dwellings. After abiding by the strict justicar code for so long, she couldn't fathom relying on such luxuries, or living off anything else besides the bare minimum. Maybe the young expatriate found comfort in opulence. Maybe the gadgets and the rare antiques softened the pain of his self-induced exile. Or at least numbed it for a while.
Thane's fingertips ghosted over the soft curves of a century-old painted vase that had somehow escaped the wreckage. It was currently serving as an alcohol decanter, the rich, earthy scent of some turian beverage rising out to assail his finely tuned sense of smell. Thane frowned. He thought of his own son, and how, like Daryn, Kolyat had left his family to pursue another path. Thane wondered if Daryn's parents ached to know where their son was, as he had for Kolyat. Did they pray for his safety every night, as he had? Did they blame themselves for driving him away, as he had? A soft, rumbling sigh passed through his lips. Children had no idea of the pain they caused their families. After a moment, Thane realized that that particular axiom worked both ways.
There was one distinct difference between Daryn and Kolyat: Daryn would never have the chance to make peace with his parents. That was why Thane had agreed to send his eidetic recollection of Daryn's final moments back to Palaven. The Forsythes had to know their son's fate. They had to know that their long-lost child was a hero.
The eulogy had been sent to Liara for approval. She was, after all, the one who'd known him the longest. The one who had dragged him into their business with the Shadow Broker in the first place. Yet Thane couldn't feel anger towards the asari for risking the life of an innocent. Without Daryn, they wouldn't have made it out of Nos Astra. Or Garrus would have sacrificed himself, and the mission would have collapsed in his absence.
Thane withdrew his hand from the vase suddenly. He was shocked to find himself rationalizing the death of the young turian. Innocent life was lost. It was a tragedy. Nothing was ever going to change that.
Garrus stood in front of Daryn's desk, sidestepping around the dark stain that was formerly the pet pyjak. He surveyed the workstation, a furrow creasing the ridges of his brow. As clearly as the moment it had happened, Garrus remembered jumping over the desk in order to get Daryn out of a sniper's line of fire. His hand brushed over the desk, skimming for anything of sentimental value that could be sent back to Palaven. He accidentally activated a holo that had been turned faced down. It was of Daryn, several years younger, laughing and holding the hand of a girl about his age. Probably his sister. Behind them stood their father, standing stiffly with his arms clasped at his side and practically beaming at his children. Garrus wondered what had changed to make Daryn want to leave his home.
Looking at the holo, Garrus couldn't help but think of Solana and the rest of his family. Something about standing in Daryn's apartment sent a pang of guilt twisting through his gut. He took a deep breath and forced his emotions into the dark corners of his mind, where they didn't cause so much trouble. Setting the holo down as if it were a sacred relic, Garrus went to the back wall, where Daryn had pinned a collage of posters and paintings collected while he was on Illium. As far as Garrus could tell, the only other piece of home he kept close by was the Forsythe clan emblem, a brightly painted symbol on a crimson pennant. He carefully untacked and folded it into a neat little triangle, then set the holo on top of it. That was all there was to send back to his family. Anything else would just be a painful reminder of the distance that had separated them from Daryn.
Thane looked up at Garrus, then glanced at the holo and the bit of fabric clutched tightly in his hands. Samara, too, understood that their visit was coming to an end. "Is there anything that needs to be said?" she asked. Garrus seemed frozen, staring down at what he was holding.
Samara turned to Thane, who nodded, then clasped his hands and bowed his head. Samara closed her eyes as well. "Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand, wash the sins from this one and set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit. May his memory live on in the hearts of his kin to inspire honor and courage, to shed light on the darkest of our days."
Garrus stared at the frayed edge of the pennant. Silently, he prayed that in his final moments, Daryn had found whatever it was he left Palaven to seek. Garrus prayed that Daryn had found his purpose, because in the end, that was all that really mattered.
By the time they got back to the hospital, Shepard was out of surgery and had been moved to an intensive care room across the hall from Tali. Garrus was eager to get in to see his commander, but Dr. Morae, who was keeping a close eye on all of them, warned that, "She can't have too many visitors at once. She'll be there for a while – you'll all get a chance to -"
"Why can't we go in now?" Garrus was surprised to see Jack bounding off one of the hospital sofas towards them. "Not like she can get annoyed or shout at us to get out." The last time he'd checked, Jack was back on the Normandy, napping in the captain's quarters or raiding the lounge for Shepard's private booze cabinet. But she'd surfaced from her hidey-hole pretty quickly once she heard that the commander was available for visitors.
Nerin threw her hands up in exasperation. "What the hell. Fine. But Goddess help me if I hear any of those alarms going off." She didn't get paid to enforce the tight-ass hospital protocol. Besides, she wasn't going to be the one to get in between a commander and her very well armed crew. And once Shepard had been transferred to the intensive care unit, her work was pretty much finished. She started to walk away, but was stopped by the female human in the white jumpsuit.
Expecting some kind of complaint or demand, Nerin recoiled instinctively. But the woman simply said, "We appreciate your help, Doctor. From all of us, thank you."
Dr. Morae wasn't sure how to respond. After a moment, she blinked and said, "Tell Cerberus to donate a nice fat check to the Trauma Center. Yeah, I'm not stupid. You're wearing their logo." Miranda cast a surreptitious glance down at the orange geometric symbol on her jumpsuit. "But these are the Terminus Systems. As far as I'm concerned, you're just a generous, anonymous donor who wants to support a fine medical establishment. Now go be someone else's problem."
Miranda extended her hand. "I'll personally make sure that you receive a sizable donation."
Nerin shook the Cerberus operative's hand, then walked away. Over her shoulder, she called, "Don't do me any favors!" Miranda allowed herself a smile. Asari really weren't all that bad. Well, a few of them were somewhat tolerable, anyway.
Garrus hovered in the doorway to the intensive care room. As much as he wanted to see Shepard again, he wanted to see her alive and moving and talking, not laying lifeless in between sterile white sheets, hooked up to machines monitoring the tenuous balance of her body. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle seeing the woman he loved in a coma. He tried to tell himself that she was basically just sleeping. A sleep she may never wake from. But ultimately, the desire to be at her side overwhelmed his hesitation. It didn't matter that she wouldn't be aware of his presence. He'd promised never to leave her. Nothing was going to keep him from upholding that.
In the confines of the hospital room, Shepard was obviously out of place. She didn't belong in a gurney. Garrus was too accustomed to seeing her in power armor, bracing a shotgun in one hand and a warp field in the other. He couldn't reconcile the image of her that he had in his mind with the one he was currently faced with. Approaching slowly, Garrus inspected her more closely. Even the shared effort of the Illium doctors and the Cerberus specialists wasn't quite enough to restore her to normal. Before the mission, her cybernetics were barely visible beneath her skin. But now they were impossible to miss. The exposed skin of her arms, neck, and face revealed gaping orange rifts, the glow of her internal hardware giving her an eerie, almost husk-like aura. Tentatively, Garrus let his fingers trail along one of the longer scars on her arm. Are you still my Shepard? Garrus heard Miranda's voice telling him that there would be no way to gauge the extent of the psychological effects until she woke up. Whenever that was.
Her expression, unlike the blank, apathetic mask Garrus expected, seemed almost peaceful. She wasn't scowling or grimacing or narrowing her eyes at anyone. She just looked like she was resting. The slight tilt of her head to the side made it appear as if she were listening for something. "Shepard," Garrus said softly. Of course, there was no response. Each breath she took was as delicate as the flutter of gossamer butterfly wings. She was so... fragile.
As if drawn by a magnetic force, Garrus found his hand slipping into Shepard's, which was wrapped in thick white bandages. "I don't know if you can hear me," he began lamely. "But, if you can, or even if you can't..." His eyes traced the strong angle of her jaw, the gentle bow of her lips. "Please." His voice sounded desperate even to his own ears. He didn't care, though. He just had to say something to her. "Please, wake up. You need to recover, Shepard. We're all counting on you. You make this galaxy worth fighting for. So for everyone's sake, especially mine, wake up."
Though Garrus couldn't feel it through the gauze bandages, Shepard's fingers closed around his ever so slightly, almost as if by their own volition.
During the next few hours, pretty much the whole crew came by to check on Shepard. Miranda was reminded of traditional open-coffin funerals and the wakes that followed, where everyone in attendance would come by to pay their respects. However, most of the crew didn't carry that heavy air of mourning about them. Yeoman Chambers visited and dropped off what looked like a spa kit.
"While she's out, we can paint her toenails," Kelly suggested.
Although the Yeoman's sunny attitude could be rather off-putting at times, Miranda couldn't hide her amusement. "Shepard's feet really aren't much to look at. Trust me. She spends too much time wearing greaves and kicking things over to get pedicures."
Kelly shrugged good-naturedly, setting the spa basket next to a bunch of flowers that someone had thought to put in the room. She gazed at the commander forlornly. Garrus found her attachment to Shepard surprising. Shepard tended to keep her distance from the Cerberus crew – she was interested in her own people, not the ones that the Illusive Man had assigned to her. She'd made attempts to be polite and friendly, sure, but nothing much further than that. But maybe Kelly couldn't help but become attached to the commander. Shepard was, as Miranda had said, an icon. She had a fire that made people willing to follow her into hell. Garrus wasn't the only one who didn't want that fire extinguished.
Sometime later that day, Kasumi hobbled over from her room in the hospital on crutches. Her right leg was bound in a thick cast. "Bet you thought it was Joker coming down the hall, huh?" she said, a devilish grin peeking out from beneath her hood. Garrus had no idea how she'd managed to get into her jumpsuit without any help, but it appeared as if her shoulder, and the rest of her wounds, were healing smoothly.
The Normandy's pilot was only a few steps behind her. "Very funny, Kasumi. I'm right here, you know!" Kasumi tossed her crutches aside, complaining about how she was currently the least stealthy member of the team, before settling herself on the edge of the commander's bed. Joker opted to lean against the wall on the opposite side of the room, his hand on the windowsill for support.
"How's she doing?" he asked Miranda quietly. She gave him the rundown of her status while Kasumi peered into Shepard's face.
"Hang in there, Shep," the thief whispered encouragingly. "We're all rooting for you."
Most crew members drifted in for a few minutes, just long enough to confirm that Shepard was indeed in one piece, before filtering out to let others in. Garrus got the sense that they didn't want to hang around too long. They'd each built their own perceptions of her – a battlemaster, an unyielding leader, a tenacious protector – and seeing the commander comatose shattered those ideas. He didn't blame them.
A few did hang around for larger chunks of time: Kaidan, whose dark eyes never left Shepard's face whenever he entered the room. Miranda, who divided her time between checking on Oriana, Tali, and Jacob. Thane and Samara also made a habit of spending several hours in the hospital every day. Surprisingly, Jack frequented Shepard's bedside as well. Once, Garrus caught her reading poetry to the commander. She stopped when she noticed him in the doorway. She cleared her throat and grinned wickedly at Shepard.
"Merc blood is red, your boyfriend is blue, if you don't wake up soon... I'm gonna steal all your shit."
"Truly inspiring, Jack."
"Yeah, well, I gotta keep busy somehow." Jack got to her feet, grating her chair across the ground. "Might go stir-crazy and have myself a big fat murdering spree. Wouldn't be the first time!" she called over her shoulder as she walked into the lobby. Garrus found himself smiling. He committed the poem to memory so he could recite it to Shepard when she woke. I'm pretty sure human women love that kind of thing.
Kaidan had extricated himself from Jack's path just in time – he flattened his back to the wall as she passed by him in the lobby. Garrus felt the initial urge to curse Kaidan's sudden appearance, but ultimately refrained from doing so. He had just as much right to be there as Garrus did, after all he'd done to get her back from the thrall of the Shadow Broker. Still, that didn't mean that Garrus liked sharing his visiting hours with others any more.
They made polite small talk as Kaidan sat down on the other side of Shepard's bed, so that their conversation was carried out over her inert form, the constant beeping of the cardiac monitor giving an ambient pulse to their exchange.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard from the Citadel," Garrus said, watching Kaidan's eyes drift to the needle embedded in Shepard's arm. "I'd have thought that the Alliance would be curious about the location of one of their top commanders after this long."
Kaidan shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, ankle over knee. "I took a two-week leave. They're not expecting me back for another couple days." Garrus wasn't exactly being subtle, but Kaidan was being purposefully obtuse right back at him.
He pressed the matter further. "And if she's still in a coma by then?"
The question hung heavily in the air between them. Even Shepard herself seemed to be waiting for a response. "If Shepard's still comatose in three days," Kaidan began, "then the ten days that Operative Lawson bought will be up. Who knows? You might want me around to think of a way to keep the Illusive Man from repossessing the Normandy."
"Here's hoping it doesn't come to that." With our luck, though... this could get ugly.
Kaidan didn't say anything for a moment, letting the beeping of the heart monitor fill the silence. "It's a possibility. In fact, at this point, it's extremely likely." He uncrossed his legs, leaning forward slightly. "And out here in the Terminus Systems, it'd be hard to defend yourself from a Cerberus attack."
"What do you mean, out here in the Terminus Systems?" Garrus asked, a hard edge unintentionally creeping into his tone.
"Cerberus is a designated enemy of the Council. A known terrorist group. If they tried to attack in Citadel space... look. All I'm saying is that the ship, along with the rest of the crew, would be safer if you were docked at the Citadel. No way Cerberus could come after you then," Kaidan explained rationally. Shepard appeared to absorb the information, impartially monitoring the progression of the heated conversation.
"Did you even consider how that could affect Shepard? The media, the Alliance, the Council... how do you think they'll respond to seeing her like this? If we move to the Citadel, we're just inviting disaster. Here, we can protect her identity. No one knows what happened with the Shadow Broker," Garrus defended. He couldn't let Kaidan take her back to the Citadel. Sure, Cerberus would turn into a threat if she didn't come out of her coma, but along with the medical risks of transporting a patient in such a frail condition, they had Shepard's reputation to worry about. There would be no stopping the rumors and lies that would ensue. Once she woke up, Shepard needed to resume her role as the galaxy's hero. She couldn't do that if her entire image was shattered.
"Don't count on Cerberus to keep their word," Kaidan warned, his usually warm brown eyes cooled to a hard granite. "They might not even give you the ten days. They'll take what they want by force, and they won't think twice about the trail of bodies they'll leave." His voice went down a notch. "We have to think of what's best for her, Garrus."
"We?" Garrus repeated. He shook his head, a sharp, bitter noise escaping his throat like a scoff. "Last time I checked, you forfeit your right to have anything to do with her." You swore to put your duty to the Alliance before your loyalty to Shepard. You don't get to go back on that.
Kaidan looked hurt for a moment, but quickly retaliated. "How can you say that after everything I did to rescue her from the Shadow Broker? I know things have changed..." He cast a strained look at the turian, a look of agonizing understanding. Acknowledging that Garrus was closer to Shepard than he currently was. "But I will always care about Shepard. And I will not stay quiet and let you make this mistake."
Then how come you were ready to turn that stolen transfer vessel around and abandon Shepard because the risk was too high? Garrus bit back the caustic words. He knew that without Kaidan, it would have been a lot harder to complete their mission. Instead, he tried to empathize with the human, but the anger churning within was difficult to smother. "Alenko, we're all grateful for your part in getting her back, but you don't make the decisions around here. Shepard stays until she wakes up. That's final."
Slowly, Kaidan raised his gaze to meet Garrus's. "That's all I get? All this time, and that's all I get from you?"
Blue eyes never wavering, Garrus responded, "It's the right decision. But you won't see reason." You are her past, Kaidan. I am her present and her future. "She needs to be here. Her whole crew will be at her side to deal with threats from Cerberus or anyone else out there. Just like we always are."
The two of them went silent once again. Nearly twelve beeps from the cardiac monitor had sounded before Kaidan replied, "I can't change your mind. But if Cerberus does come after the ship, then the consequences of that choice are on you." They'd reached an uneasy truce, it seemed. Kaidan accepted the plan, despite the fact that he didn't agree with it. Besides, there wasn't anything he could do to change the situation anyway. "I'll stick around until she wakes up. After that, though, I'll have to report back to the Alliance."
"Right. That's probably best." Kaidan cast one final glance at Shepard before walking out the door, leaving Garrus alone with her.
Garrus couldn't get what Kaidan had said off his mind. What if denial was clouding his judgment? What if Kaidan's earlier accusation that his feelings for the commander were getting in the way of the mission were true? Seeking some consolation, or perhaps validation of his decision, Garrus clasped his hand over Shepard's. She was cold to the touch. I can't think rationally when it comes to you, Shepard. I'd sacrifice everything for you. Even the things that aren't mine to sacrifice. Shepard maintained her stoic, unresponsive mask. He willed her to open her eyes, to tilt her head, to move her hand. Anything to show that somewhere within the murky depths of her coma, she was still fighting.
But there was nothing. Exhausted and anxious and terrified that he might lose the only woman he'd ever love, Garrus settled back into his chair and drifted off to sleep, fingers still laced with Shepard's. Night descended swiftly on Nos Astra, drawing the seventh day of Shepard's coma to a close. A pervasive hush had fallen over the intensive care wing. There was no one around to hear the cardiac monitor's steady pulse quicken.
Although her limbs were motionless and the brain scans were reading minimal activity, Shepard's mind was not quiet. While in her comatose stasis, a rush of images streamed past in fragments that found each other and locked in, like pieces of a puzzle falling together. Flashes of her childhood, her early years in the Alliance, and her most recent encounters with the Collectors and the Shadow Broker streamed past. Everything that the Ardat-Yakshi had tainted was returning to her, synapses in her brain reforming the broken connections.
But there were scrambled bits within the memories, ones that had no exceptional qualities to them other than the fact that they didn't belong. Shepard saw Saren hunched over a console, whispering, "They're too strong. How can we beat them if we don't understand them?" She saw her mom and dad and sister and brother being dragged away and impaled by dragon's teeth, turned into husks which then came to claw at her skin and bite at her throat. Over and over, she saw Kamala's face, sometimes sneering, sometimes crying out for forgiveness just before Shepard smashed her skull. Various glances at her crew were interspersed throughout. Some of them looked up at her in hope. Others gave her mournful looks over their shoulders as they walked away. At one point, Shepard found herself face to face with Ashley. They were standing on one of Virmire's beaches, the rolling gray clouds of a coming storm casting a shadow over the gunnery chief's features. In a low, somber tone, Ash recited, "When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero coming home." Ashley reached out and gripped Shepard's shoulder as if it were the only thing keeping her alive. "You can't change the past, skipper. Fight for the ones left standing. Show the Reapers what us humans are made of."
"I'll die before I let them break me." Shepard's eyes drifted momentarily to the quickly darkening sea, then back to Ash. "We'll fight to the last man." Light seemed to emanate from Williams. The storm clouds lit up silver. Behind her, the landscape started to fall away in electrified shards. She became almost too bright to look at.
"Don't let them change you, Commander. You know what to do. Don't let them inside your head."
Shepard's lips moved to reply, but Ashley was gone, bursting into a brilliant, luminescent white. Shepard blinked and found that even when she closed her eyes, it did not fade. After what could have been an eternity or just a few seconds, shapes and colors began to form, replacing the static whiteness. She wondered what vision would haunt her next, or if it was perhaps some warped glimpse at her past.
"Shepard!" Garrus. It was Garrus. There was no doubt in her mind about it. But there was something different about the sound of his voice from all the previous memories. Then, she realized that what she was hearing wasn't a memory at all. The blur of color and sound sharpened into distinct parts.
Garrus knew she was on the verge of finally regaining consciousness. The heart rate monitor had was beeping faster, and beneath the suffocating white hospital sheets, he could see her shifting around. He wondered if he should send for one of the orderlies, but he didn't dare leave Shepard's side. What if by the time he returned, she was still again? Or if he'd only imagined it?
He said her name again, louder. Did her head just move? "What's going on?" Miranda strode in, looking rather disheveled. Evidently, she'd been napping at Oriana's side, just as Garrus had done for Shepard.
"I think she's coming around," Garrus said, his pulse picking up speed at the possibility. Kasumi and Jack bounded in excitedly from the lobby. But as soon as they entered, Shepard became as motionless as before. Miranda wasted no time in checking the neural EM emissions monitor. She looked at Garrus. "Her readings are normal. Heart rate is also still on the low end..."
"No!" Garrus protested adamantly. "She's waking up. I know it."
"There!" Kasumi said, redirecting her attention to the monitor.
"Detecting increased brain activity..." Miranda muttered to herself. She then whirled to look at the other three. "She's responding to outside stimuli. Showing the first signs of awareness. Garrus, say something else."
"Can you hear me, Commander? You've been in a coma for seven days. The Shadow Broker and the Ardat-Yakshi are dead. We did it. Shepard?"
"I think it's working. Keep going!" But there was no more progress – both her pulse and her electromagnetic brain wave output were holding steady. "Dammit," Miranda cursed. "We'll need to come up with something more compelling to get her completely out of it. And fast."
Jack and Kasumi loudly began brainstorming ideas in hopes that their cacophony would rouse their commander. Yet still she didn't open her eyes. The machines told them that she was slipping back into the coma, drifting away from the surface.
A sudden flash of inspiration struck Kasumi. "Kiss her, Garrus! It'll be all the stimulus she needs." The suggestion was straight out of one of her treasured romance novels, but maybe there was a reason why they'd all led her to believe that true love conquered all.
"Do it, Blue."
"It's worth a shot," Miranda said. At that point, though, she wondered if a bucket of ice water would be a more realistic option.
As odd as it seemed, Garrus wasn't going to hold out on anything that might even have the slimmest chance of success. I'm not losing you. Not now. Not ever. He bent over the bed and, taking her chin gently in his hand, kissed her cold lips.
There was no instant awakening. No sudden spreading of warmth through her face, no bolting upright from the sheer electricity of Garrus's touch. But there was change. Gradually, the color seemed to return to her cheeks and the cardiac monitor indicated that she was approaching the normal range.
The bandaged hand that Garrus had clung to for so many hours twitched, then reach up to pull away the hospital sheets. Eyes open, Shepard sat up. She was breathing heavily, almost as if she just wanted to feel the rush of air in and out of her lungs. Giving her head a slight shake to clear a few stray locks from her face, she blinked at her surroundings, realized where she was, then looked at the others. "I want to go home," she said. For a second, Garrus thought that she meant Earth, where her family was. Then, more assertively, she said, "Let's get back to the Normandy."