Jane

Nalah woke her the next day by ripping the covers off, and standing sternly above the bed. "I have to leave for work soon, and a little birdie told me you haven't had an exam since Tuchanka."

"I'm fine!" She exclaimed, hands searching for the blankets, and their warm, sweet refuge.

"Nope. Right now. You're getting a quick scan and a mole check."

She groaned, stood up, and stripped to her underwear. "Happy?"

"I will be when you check out. What time are you seeing Garrus today?"

Glancing at the clock, she said, "in about two hours. He gets there at eight, but said they won't let me in 'til nine."

"Mmm." Nalah's fingertips gently brushed her shoulder. "Your scar's looking better. Been using the coco butter?"

"It doesn't help."

"I think it has."

"In your head maybe."

"Jane Shepard," the corner's of Nalah's mouth twitched, "are you teasing me?"

She bit her lip, flushed cheeks.

Nalah squeezed her arm. "All done. I don't see anything concerning, but you need a checkup in the near future. Now I'm off to work. Give Garrus my best." A moment of hesitation. "Can you get there on your own?"

"Yes." Jane yawned.

"You're sure? Your biotics…?"

"I'm in control. Besides, Jim gave me a Citadel tour. I'm good now."

"Alright."

Nalah left, and Jane went rummaging through the boxes in search of her old clothes. She also unpacked, washed, and put away any kitchen-wares she found. Nalah had been either too busy or too depressed to bother.

Not surprisingly, very few of her belongings made it to the Citadel – only stuff left at the Butler's old place. The tank tops were too small, making her pop out, and the pants were a hopeless fit for her muscular legs. Nalah laid out a sweater for her, tagged with a post-it note that read, for the girl who's always cold, so far it was the only thing that fit. Eventually she found a T-shirt that fit reasonably, kept the baggy Alliance pants she was already wearing, and called it a day.

After that, and a quick breakfast of leftovers, Jane departed for Huerta's surgery center. The dextro section was run by mainly turians, although she spotted a few asari, and gave off an air of pristine cleanliness and efficiency.

When the door to Garrus's room opened, an odd sound greeted her. Whirr, click click, whirr, click click. The source turned out to be some contraption Garrus was hooked up to. Tubes filled with deep blue extended from the right side of his face, currently unbandaged, to a device hanging from an I.V. pole. The plate along his jaw was gone, as was the mandible on that side. She could see straight into his mouth, count the razor sharp teeth. Worst of all was the eye – the cybernetic one had been removed, leaving the socket empty, daunting.

"Doctors do that to you?" She hissed.

"They're just prepping the area. Looks worse than it is, promise."

How wrong it felt to see him like this, the steel predator brought low, broken by the war he waged and lost. His massiveness did nothing to abate the fragility she saw laying in that bed, his fringe splayed against the pillows, no chrome in his plates, drained figuratively and literally.

"You know, some women find facial scars attractive," he snarked. "Mind you, most of those women are … krogan."

She snorted. "If that's what you're after, you should've said something on Tuchanka. Pretty sure Kiash is single."

They laughed, voices bouncing off the artificial walls. She'd seen this before. Some who joke too much. Some who fell quiet. Encompassing pain had a way of chasing you, although she appreciated his humorous defense, even if it was a flimsy attempt to cover up what he lost. A family. That's who his men were to him. And he mourned with such an acuteness that even his laughter cut her deep.

A knock pulled them from their mutual amusement, an asari gently rapping in the doorway. Behind her was an entire team, two turians – one male, one female – and a salaria… Mordin? She beamed. Their eyes met.

"You're here?" Anxiety cascaded from her like a waterfall.

"Of course. Grew eye on Normandy. Garrus now my patient. My responsibility. Here." Long spindly fingers handed her a data-pad. "Patient number 99841. See column? Can follow progress from OR to recovery. When number turns green, can visit."

They gathered up all the gear, fastening the various devices to the bed, and carted Garrus away.

She was escorted to the waiting area, which was rather sparse, save the view overlooking the garden and main hospital whose walls were glass, revealing the crowds, the disarray. How grateful she was for the calm of the dextro-ward.

Then she realized she hadn't brought anything to do, and tapped the data pad on. 99841 was there in purple, indicating he was in the OR, by now under anesthesia.

After checking her surroundings several times, she leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and let her mind carry her away.

First came a young girl, no more than fourteen, battered but not broken. She lived on the planet New York, a gang member forced into prostitution. Her song was powerful, haunting. She sang with abandon, melody carving through her core, traveling from her perch atop a sky scraper, where she sang and sang into the echoing valleys below.

Next was a child, a boy, whose village was burning around him. Everything and everyone he had ever known was dying, their screams chasing him as he raced from the carnage.

Suddenly, a gentle melody drifted through her. The tinkling notes capturing the spark of love in a mother's eyes as she held her infant in her arms. A swell of strings, a pounding rhythm emerged, giving birth to a line of soldiers. They stood fast, with the mother and child at their back, in their minds, in their hearts, as they fought to protect them, to make those moments possible.

Beep.

Jane opened her eyes. 99841 had changed to yellow, indicating Garrus was out of surgery and in recovery.

She glared at the screen, willed it to change, and a moment later the numbers turned green. She raced to the recovery area.

Garrus was lying in bed, half his face and entire eye hidden behind a crisp, white bandage, dotted with little blue stains.

"Ayyyyyyy Jane!" He half chirped, half rumbled, "hiiiiii."

She snorted. "Oh you are aren't you."

"They've got gooooood drugs here."

"I bet."

She settled on a stool next to the bed, and was immediately accosted by a knobby, plated elbow.

"Can I touch your hair? I always wanted to. It looks like fire. Real fire, but on your head."

"Knock yourself out," this time she did her best to stifle the giggle, given how bashful he was about it.

Bare talons plopped down, pressing and slightly scraping her scalp as they moved, felt, poked… it was surprisingly relaxing.

"It's soooo soft."

"My hair or my head?"

"Everything." The word was elongated, drooled out of sluggish mouth plates. "Are your hands like that too?" This time he didn't ask, just clumsily grabbed at her hand wrapped around the metal bed frame.

She allowed it, lips twitching with amusement – especially when he pulled her hand upwards (and her right off her seat) to rub it on the undamaged side of his face. "Humans are bad ass." He said suddenly. "My partner in C-Sec was a human. Man could take a hit too. He'd look like that… that fruit Krul liked when it went bad but the man just kept going. How is something so soft so durable?"

"I uh… dunno."

"Yeah. Did you know you're the most genetically diverse species in existence? That humans have mutations, within their own species, so they can survive the extremes of their home planet?"

"No… I don't know that much about humans."

"That's a travesty."

As Garrus launched into an enthusiastic description of Earth's intense climate variations, an amused nurse materialized from behind the curtain, the same asari from earlier, and announced she was there for a vitals check. Garrus cooperated, continuing to ramble away, as she took his blood pressure and started another I.V. line. The process was fascinating, if painful looking. She used a flat, dull knife to lift the arm-plate, working it back and forth until it was detached enough for a spreader - a vertically opening metal contraption that kept the plate suspended while she found a vein. After, the plate was allowed to settle back in its natural position, with a small tube extending into the hide beneath.

With that settled, the nurse left, but Jane pursued her, catching her in the hall and out of Garrus's earshot, to ask what they gave him.

"Well, the anesthesia hasn't worn off entirely. As for the meds, the best levo-equivalents I can think of are scopolamine and Demerol."

"Ah, yeah, that would explain it."

A pause. A twitch of blue, asari lips. "I think it's wonderful, you know. Seeing turians and humans finally put their differences aside, and you're a really cute couple."

Wait, what? "Oh! We're not… I mean… dextro/levo kind of makes that impossible… not that… I mean we're not together."

The biggest shit-eating grin rose on the nurse's face. "Well, just so you know, asari figured out the chirality issue centuries ago. And human anatomy is alarmingly similar to our own. Not that you're together or anything." Then she rushed off to the sound of her beeper, leaving a stunned Jane to stare after her.

When she returned, Garrus continued his ramble about Earth, apparently the guys introduced him to a show called 'Nature Takedowns.' And they spent a great deal of time looking up lions and cheetahs hunting antelope on ex-tube.

She countered, offering her modest knowledge of Kar'Shan's wildlife, animals she observed, pests she cleared out. A sudden lucidity flowed through those predator eyes, piercing cobalt capable of dismantling every defense, seeing the chaos beneath. She felt naked under his stare. Fidgeted.

"You don't belong there." He growled, the sharpness in his eyes merging with his subvocals. Stinging talons bit at her shoulder, squeezing, "you don't belong there. You know that… right?"

"Yeah, of course." She stared at her hands.

His eyes raked over her, again with that piercing stare. She shivered. Searching talons found her hand, pulled her next to him. Cloudiness had re-entered his eyes, clumsiness his limbs. "Stay?" He murmured.

"Alright." She said, but he was already asleep.

The asari nurse, Jiarnis, had an 'I knew it,' smile when Jane requested a cot during his next blood draw. Garrus didn't even stir when she poked him, he was that out of it.

A couple workers brought the cot shortly after, and she sent a quick message to Nalah, letting her know she was staying at Huerta. The room was freezing though, and the thin, hospital blanket did little for warmth, not that she could sleep somewhere so… insecure anyhow. Her mind went on full alert every time she heard a footfall, a cough outside the room, constantly reminding her that they were surrounded by strangers.

Garrus woke in the wee hours, moaning and half aware. After repeatedly mashing the call button to no avail, Jane went hunting for help. The night nurse was a turian female with a red stripe splitting her face, and a petulant attitude. That's when she realized only Mordin's team had the Rishini translation program, and if she wasn't so small and unassuming in appearance, she would've wound up booted by security given that her solution was to yell louder. Finally, one of the turians from Mordin's team happened by and they went to check on Garrus.

His pain meds had worn off, and he was running a fever. They told her this wasn't uncommon in turians after surgery, even without infection, but she vowed then and there not to leave him alone in that death trap.

He woke again an hour later, far more lucid than earlier. However, the meds hadn't worn off and his tongue was looser as a result.

They spoke of everything - his family, clan life, sharing in the darkness more than they dared face to face.

Garrus's relationship with his father was distant, tense. But his sister was another matter. He spoke fondly of her, expressed regret that he was shirking his familial responsibilities, leaving her to pick up the slack. On Omega he made up for this by sending creds home – his entire share. Whatever wasn't invested in the team, base, or equipment went to his mother's medical care.

Many of these pieces were familiar to her, after all they had spoken frequently on Tuchanka. What she didn't know was that he did this anonymously, otherwise his father would throw it out, refusing it on the basis that it represented just how far his son had fallen.

"If he could see me now…" Garrus rasped. "He'd be right to tell me I deserved it."

"No he isn't. You're not some punk killing just to make a quick cred."

"All I did was get ten good men killed. And for what? Omega went right back to the cesspool it always was."

She paused, pulling the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders, the cot creaked. "You found me."

Silence.

She swallowed. That was presumptuous, great job.

"Yeah." A growl, deep and dual toned. Its determination sending shivers down her spine. "Where are you anyway?"

"Here." She walked over to the bed, the steady light of the monitor guiding her. "You can't see?"

"They put drops in my eyes. Everything is… blurred."

The plush mattress sagged where she sat at the side. Garrus reached, fumbling blindly. She slipped her hand into his talons, feeling his clawed fingers curl around, swallowing it whole. "Jane…"

"Hmm?"

"I'd do it all again for you."

For my worthless ass? The thought terrified her. "No I … no one should die for me. I… should've been there." She choked. "I'm so sorry. I could've come back a year ago. My biotics were fine… I…"

His grip tightened. She could feel the steel in his voice as he said, "no! If you had been there… If you died… I'd … I… that would've been it for me. Their deaths are on me. Not you."

Words died in her throat.

I knew. I knew you were in over your head. I saw it in the Talons base, clear as day. Big things always devour little things, and you were a rag tag group of friends trying to erode a mountain. It was never going to end well.

And I did nothing.

She closed her eyes against the hot liquid threatening to spill, bit her cheek, hard, harder, copper. Three blinks and the tears (weakness) were gone.

"You're very … soft." He said suddenly.

She laughed. It was wet, snotty. "You don't remember earlier do you?"

"Should I?"

"No, it was cute though."

They spent the rest of the night reliving the year's best fights. Hers being the brush with the Tresher Maw and the pummeling of Wreav. His the butchering of Kron Harga, a slaver preying around Kima. "Pretty sure I was channeling you in that moment. . . Or … well I was thinking of you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah I uh… started with his feet. Shot him all the way up to his shoulders, nice and slow, but avoided anything that would finish him too fast. Then I broke his face with my gun, threw him on an explosive crate… and, BOOM." His carapace bobbed with laughter, illuminated under the monitor's soft light. "It was a thing of beauty."

She giggled, which quickly devolved into a laughing fit, and fell sideways onto the bed. The imagery was a nice touch.

She found herself lulled by his warmth, the feel of his rising and falling carapace at her back. Even in a hospital bed, his presence was overpowering. It exuded safety. Her eyelids drooped, and somewhere along the line she must've fallen asleep. They both did.

A light touch at her elbow, and she shot awake. It was Jiarnis, there for his morning vitals check and blood draw. Both Jane and Garrus startled, embarrassed, verbally stumbling for an excuse before falling into an awkward silence. And the asari's eyes crinkled with that ridiculous, knowing look again.

Stupid asari always think everyone' s about to fuck everyone else.