It was Jia Alenko who finally pried her son away from his wife's bedside. It was only the power mothers held over the minds of their physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted sons that allowed her to do it. That, and the fact that she did not require that he leave the room. He was still the doctor's patient; he could sleep on the medical table. If that happened to be the farthest spot from Jalissa, that was his problem.
She had given in to the weakness of a mother and fussed over him once he was asleep, smoothing his hair, adjusting his blanket, that soft touch of the cheek all mothers knew and used to satisfy themselves that their child was well.
She immediately returned to Jalissa's bedside. By now, the entire crew of the ship would have come to take a turn sitting with her, waiting for her to wake up. Dr. Chakwas was more sensible: Shepard's ground team—past and present—was allowed to visit during certain hours. As Jalissa's mother-in-law, Jia was allowed unrestricted access.
Jia regarded the battered body of her daughter-in-law, a woman to whom she had only spoken a few words. Both arms were swathed in bandages, evidence of how much work had been done during 'this session.' It was heartbreaking to see and yet everyone seemed to be willing to look to the positive: Jalissa was alive and the Reapers were dead. Dr. Chakwas still worried about her, but seemed hesitantly optimistic…if, whenJalissa woke up, she could be kept in a healing mindset.
But that was where the doctor worried: Jalissa had a long road of recovery, and with the Reapers dead the pressure pushing her to keep getting back up was gone. If ever there was a time that Shepard might give up her survivor's mentality, when her unending strength might run short…it was now. Most people wouldn't understand why.
Simply put, there was no need to keep surviving, to keep fighting. The battle was over. And no one would deny that Jalissa was simply tired.
Jalissa had very firm friends among this crew—the only reason the turian, Garrus, left her bedside had been when the little quarian, Tali, had taken him by the hand, gently whispered something into his ear, and led him away.
Jia had the distinct impression that little Tali put in so few visits—no more than twice daily, unless she came to retrieve Garrus—because if she didn't limit herself, she'd mope, hang around, and add to an increasingly desponding atmosphere. Not good for a patient in Jalissa's position.
Liara was similar, checking in morning and evening. She usually made offhanded remarks that she could 'still feel' Jalissa, and although heartened when she made such pronouncements, the asari always seemed so apprehensive when she walked in, as if she expected horrible things to happen in her absence.
The krogan, Wrex, kept himself busy and out from underfoot, which Jia suspected everyone appreciated. She'd seen how her Kaidan had 'excused' the krogan from the medbay when the krogan—who apparently had a history of pushing buttons—finally pushed one too many…or just the wrong one. When Wrex did visit, he tended to fidget, and never stayed long.
The most constant vigil was that held by EDI, who at first satisfied herself with her perpetual awareness of everything that went on aboard ship…but had recently begun bringing her mobile platform in. Jia didn't comment, but she suspected the intelligence was beginning to understand the organic need for physical contact. She spent a lot of time with one of Shepard's damaged hands held as gently as if it was a butterfly in both of her own. EDI was also the most communicative, seeming to have latched onto the research that comatose patients with people who talked to them recovered better than those who had no one. Most recently, the AI had begun sharing music with Shepard, commenting on the pieces she chose and asking necessarily rhetorical questions. It was also thanks to EDI that Paddington now had a companion: one morning, EDI wordlessly placed a velveteen rabbit beside the bear, both creatures looking down at the sleeping soldier.
Joker was erratic in his visits, habit changing almost daily. Some days he would come in before or after every meal. Other days, he avoided the place with determination. On more than one occasion, Kaidan had had to gently chivvy the other man away, breaking up a vigil that had more of grief than hope in it.
The Prothean puzzled her. He had maintained a stiff 'if she's strong, she'll live' attitude which chafed at many people. Then, one day, Tali exploded at him. Jia only heard half the impressive amount of vitriol the little quarian vomited forth, but had been there when James and Garrus physically inserted themselves between the antagonists. She didn't know what James and Garrus (independently and not at the same time) said to the Prothean…but whatever it was chastened him, and he'd begun making erratic visits, usually to drop a few snide comments. There was a stiffness in them though, that left Jia suspecting the Prothean simply didn't know how to hope for a comrade's recovery. He'd always lived in a galaxy where if one recovered, there were more Reapers, more chances to lose that comrade. She wondered how he would cope with a galaxy suddenly devoid of Reapers…and whether it was fear that made him so unapproachable: Jalissa was something familiar. Maybe the last familiar thing. How did one cope with losing one's anchor, one's last shred of familiarity, perhaps one's only friend?
And of course young James. His visits were usually loud, doggedly optimistic, a veritable barrage of high-volume encouragement that refused to be derailed by the all too clear signs that seeing Jalissa in such a reduced circumstance wore on him. She would never call James stupid, but the phrase 'too dumb to give up' came to mind, and Jia was grateful.