Less than a full day, Nihlus sighed to himself. Honestly.
He had to rush back to the safehouse because Shepard contacted him on the emergency frequency with barely controlled panic.
He found Saren on the floor, gasping like he was dying, not helped by the enraged rattling from his subvocals as he struggled to rise. Shepard in her initial call said that he collapsed, that all of his body failed at once and the treadmill sent him backwards onto the floor. Nihlus set about retrieving the first aid kit and put a mask for oxygen on Saren's face.
"Stop moving," he put a hand on Saren's shoulder.
"We were competing," Shepard explained. "It's been over an hour, I think."
"Spirits, Saren, what is WRONG with you!?" Nihlus burst out.
Shepard shifted from one foot to another.
"Contact the medics?"
"No," Nihlus shook his head.
"Why-"
"You KNOW we can't compete on endurance with humans!" Nihlus scolded Saren, who managed a protesting rasp from behind the oxygen mask. "It's scientific FACT, not lies and propaganda. So since you are being such a child, you are going to bear it!"
He looked up at Shepard.
"Just how trained are you at long distance running?"
"I've done some marathons for charity. Nothing professional."
"Spirits. Marathons. Are you comprehending your foolishness, Saren?"
Saren didn't answer.
"Shepard, if you want a turian to cover that sort of distance, you need to schedule naps. That's the way it is."
"Oh."
They got Saren into bed by Shepard levitating him. Nihlus left some protien drinks on the nightstand, scolded one more time, and ushered Shepard out after syncing their omnitools.
"He's going to be absolutely intolerable," Nihlus declared.
"More than usual?"
"He's bedridden. You're the on call nurse."
"Huh."
Shepard shrugged after a moment.
"Fine. Fine, it is what it is. Bedpans don't scare me."
"You are also intolerable, you know that?" Nihlus quirked a browplate. "All that can do optimism."
"Pssh. Go on, Nihlus. I know you have actual business besides running over here when I hit the panic button."
So she was the nurse. Saren pinged her omnitool early the next morning. He was so sore that he couldn't move and he was made further cranky from a full bladder. Shepard levitated him once more and floated him to the bathroom. Fortunately, the toilet was in a separate enclosure with a door. Saren didn't have the grace to resist grumbling at her as she struggled with figuring out how to undo his pants. Finally, she succeeded, set him on the toilet, shut the door on him, and began to brush to her teeth.
Saren pinged her when he was finished.
He recoiled when he saw a businesslike expression on her face.
"I have an idea on how to help!" she announced cheerfully.
"No. Don't-"
She snatched him into the air again and it hurt to struggle as she stripped him down and hovered him over the hot tub.
"Stop panicking. I'm not planning to drown you," she admonished him as she felt him flaring out his field reflexively.
She lowered him in at a sitting position and activated the jets. He looked so gobsmacked that she chuckled. The water looked pretty inviting, so she left for a moment to get her swimsuit.
Saren would've remained cranky on principle and further annoyed by the ease that Shepard was toying with him with her biotics, but the warm pulse of water on his muscles was just too much relief after an ill sleep. He'd achieved a modicum of relaxation when Shepard returned. He opened his eyes just as she was stepping in and saw her in a bikini.
He explained away the moment of illicit thrill racing up and down his spine at the sight of her bare midsection as the side effect of a head injury.
He closed his eyes. Shepard leaned back into the water jets. After a while, she could hear over the churn of water that Saren was purring. Hah, she grinned to herself. It was a good idea after all! Too bad he wouldn't admit it. She rested, until her skin started to show pruning.
"Saren, it's time to stop."
She got up and he casually turned his head away from her. She dried off first before lifting him into the air again. She had a fresh towel and started to dry him.
She looked at him in question when he made a distressed noise in his chest.
"... Just get on with it," he snapped.
Saren disliked that he was suddenly in a predicament; the water had lulled him into inattention. He had lost his equilibrium; he was vulnerable, weakened, and currently getting toweled off by a woman who was in possession of an unfairly shapely waist.
The saving factor was how efficiently Shepard dried him.
She then gathered up his clothes and started to turn them right side out.
"Leave them off. They are troublesome at this time."
Shepard nodded and obeyed without argument, which was strange to him. She floated him out of the bathroom and set him back in bed. She went and got a spare bedsheet. He had to endure her fumbling until she figured out an arrangement for securing the sheet. In the end, the sheet was pulled from behind to the front, with two corners crossing over his keel, brought behind his neck and tied. It suited him in that he was sufficiently covered and with no obstructing fastenings. Shepard privately thought that it was hilarious to see Saren in essentially a halter dress.
She took him to the dining room for breakfast. He sniffed suspiciously at the kava she set before him. She listened well to Nihlus and in the end he had no complaints. She made toast and coffee for herself. Saren gave her a begrudging look of curiosity when she put a plate down in front of him.
In the dextro section of the pantry, she found jars of roe and spooned it out on little rounds of flat bread.
"Is this okay? I remember seeing something like this served at a Council state function."
"Decadent for breakfast," Saren said. "But it's so simple no imbecile could mess up. It will do."
They did not speak further. Saren found that the roe was fine, bursting delightfully over his tongue, and he enjoyed his unconventional breakfast.
At his direction, she left him reclining on the couch, with the catalog of reading material. She went to the workout room. Later, they had lunch. Shepard used the flat bread again, this time finding actual spreads for it. One jar of stuff smelled worse than marmite, in her opinion. The refrigerator yielded some dextro eggs that she could scramble. He wanted to sun afterwards. Shepard read.
Dinner was another exercise in improvisation. More scrambled eggs, juice, and for variety, she found a bag of soft gelatin candies for him.
He frowned with disapproval, but Shepard would not hear of it, electing to set him back onto the couch and taking the free spot at the other end, to find out what was available to entertain them on the vidscreen while they ate dinner.
In the end, they watched a salarian sport that neither of them knew the rules for, until they were too sleepy. She conveyed him back into his bed, adjusted his covers to his direction, and took her leave.
In truth, Saren was prepared to endure humiliation from Shepard, not just the pains of his body. It would be easy for her to neglect him and cause him suffering. Or worse, to acerbate it and rub in his helplessness and defeat. Her behavior confused him. He did not expect her to fully take on his care; she was an uncomplaining servant to his needs. There was no trace of irritating human pride in her actions or words.
That only increased his suspicions.
He took it as her being more cunning, waiting for a chance to inflict hurt later. It was exhausting; the next day was the same in that she cared for him first, eased his aches first, put his meals before her own. His shifts from relieved pleasure to watchful distrust took more energy from him that he rationally knew could be put to better use recuperating.
tbc