Servicemen Campbell, Palmer, and Westmoreland stood waiting in the Huerta Memorial Hospital's main lobby, Palmer carrying the bouquet of flowers.
It had taken them nearly two hours to decide on what kind of flowers would be appropriate for a sick person, if that sick person was Shepard. They eventually decided the best thing to do, since they were all three pitching in for them, was to pick three different flowers, four each, to make it a nice round dozen.
Palmer had to admit, the massive pink azaleas (Campbell's choice), her own white-and-pink and white-and-yellow daffodils (she hadn't been able to decide which color she preferred), and the deep red sheaves of gladiolus (Westmoreland's choice) did look pretty all bundled together.
Finally, after about ten minutes of waiting after having spoken to the front desk, Maj. Alenko appeared at the d-con hallway, looking tired. "Campbell, Palmer, Westmoreland," he nodded. "What's up?"
It totally did not surprise Palmer to see him here, and she shared a sheepish grin with Campbell and Westmoreland. It had been sweet, watching the way Alenko kind of looked after Shepard's health and wellbeing. As team medic, it was definitely part of his job—but it was also clear he valued Shepard as a good friend, so it was more 'as a friend' than 'as a medic' that he made sure she got all her meals and didn't end up abusing stims because she didn't sleep when or as much she should.
Palmer wasn't sure when "aw, that's so sweet!" became "aw, they ought to get together!" or "hey, do you think they really are together?"
Well, Westmoreland was the one who raised the question: apparently, she was up late one night and saw Alenko come straight down from the Loft…looking freshly showered. Everyone knew Shepard had her own shower in her quarters…but why would Alenko be using it if they were just coworkers?
Vega once tried to logic them out of "aw, they ought to get together!" and did it with such determined ferocity that Palmer suspected he knew, for a fact, that Shepard and Alenko were an item and just didn't want it to get about. Well, neither did she: the Alliance wouldn't like it, and who knew what the Council would think. Or do.
Palmer held up the flowers. "We heard about Shepard's…accident…and thought we'd stop by," she said simply.
"And that she might like a little color in her room," Campbell added, Westmoreland nodding her support.
Alenko sighed heavily, clearly thinking how best to put something, as he regarded the three of them.
"Is it really, really bad?" Westmoreland asked cautiously, her voice lowered so no one outside their group would hear. "She's not on life support or anything, is she?"
Palmer and Campbell shared a borderline alarmed look. All they had heard was that there had been a terrorist attack—not Cerberus related—at a restaurant, that Shepard had been at the restaurant, and that she'd been injured in the attack.
'They're not saying something—a lot of something,' Westmoreland had said darkly.
That was weird for the press. Usually, they loved to pile on the bad news, even if they could only hint, allude, and suggest.
"No, nothing that serious." He sounded profoundly grateful, too, which prompted Westmoreland to shoot Campbell and Palmer both an alarmed look, similar to the one her friends had just shared.
Alenko saw the look, though it wasn't hard to miss. "Listen, ladies, it's just…" Alenko took another deep breath. "It's kind of you to want to come see her, but she wouldn't want to be seen right now. It's just one of her ways; she doesn't like people around when she's hurt, and she is a little banged up. If I take you up there now, she'll feel she's lost face because she's visibly injured. It's just the way she is."
Three pairs of shoulders slumped.
"How badly is she hurt?" Westmoreland asked warily.
"Nothing life-threatening. She's just a little banged up," Alenko repeated, which told Palmer that this was the official story and all they would get out of him.
"My granddad was like that," Campbell said, addressing Palmer and Westmoreland. "It's…totally understandable," she forced a halfhearted smile. "Will you take the flowers up?"
"Of course," Alenko answered, accepting the bouquet when Palmer handed it to him. "And, on Shepard's behalf, thank you. I think she'll really like them. When she's out of the hospital, I'm sure she'll be more amiable to well-wishers. I'll let you know where she's staying, or bring you by myself, and you can say hi, then. It would be good for her, don't you think?"
"You don't think she'd mind?" Campbell asked, frowning.
"I think she'd appreciate it, since she'll be restricted to quarters for a few days. It'll be a distraction from the fact that she can't come and go at her pleasure."
Palmer couldn't stop herself. "…does she have someone to look after her while she's on restriction?"
Westmoreland and Campbell both immediately had to hide their interest in the answer.
Alenko didn't bat an eyelash. "As team medic and her fellow Spectre, I've volunteered to be responsible for her. It's easier to look after someone when you can eat the same food."
So that was their story, and the excuse for why Garrus—Shepard's best and tightest friend, her loyal number two guy—wasn't the one keeping an eye on her. It worked. Grinning at each other (and trying not to) the three servicemen politely withdrew. Once they had their backs to Alenko, grins broke out unrestrainedly.
"What do you think?" Campbell asked, once they were all three in a CRT car.
"I think we should go for ice cream," Westmoreland said simply.
Palmer knew what that was about: Westmoreland (or, rather, her sweet tooth) felt that serious discussions generally required ice cream. Or cake. Or something.
"I think that if anything else goes wrong this shore leave…well. It had better not," Palmer huffed, shaking her head.
