"Chair?" Garrus said, pointing at his seat and staring at her with that glaring smile.
"Yes, chair." Shepard all but groaned. She was sick of this game. For hours they had pointed at random objects and told each other what they were called. Only his growls and lilting purrs were more of a challenge for her human tongue to pronounce, more often than not he'd just shake his head at her and move on. Then, just to rub salt into an already bitter wound, Garrus would pronounce her version perfectly. In fact he was incredibly good at the game, only needing her to repeat once or twice, then never forgetting what it was he had learnt.
It was damn annoying losing to an alien, and she sighed, exasperated.
Obviously she had not hid her irritation, as Garrus withdrew his hand to his lap and resolved to sit in uncomfortable silence.
"Sorry, it's not your fault." She said, though he could not understand. Shepard knew she should be grateful. He did not have to sit with her, in fact she was sure he was meant to stand outside the door like Ira did. Yet he wandered in and tried to talk to her whenever it was his turn for guard duty, even though conversation was stale to say the least.
He frowned at her, tiny eyes darting to her bruised neck before turning away again. She was sure he'd tried to apologize for that earlier, but whenever they attempted a normal conversation, that didn't involve pointing, it ended in confusion. Several times she'd asked after her crew, only to get 'chair' or 'bed' or 'door' in return. Shepard had also begged for water, acting out drinking and pointing at her neck; Garrus had just looked guilty, and stared at her bruises with a soft murmur.
Damn it. She had a million questions and no way to express them. It was like having a dog who could slowly learn to talk, only the dog was an idiot, and had strapped you to a bed with no chance of escape.
"Food." She begun to try again, chewing to make her point, "water. I'm thirsty." She pointed at her stomach this time, rubbing it then indicating to her mouth.
He stood, mandibles flaring as he touched her bandages gently and purred.
"No, not doctor. Food. Foooood." Shepard said. As if to prove her point, her stomach let out a loud grumble rumbled loudly, and apparently this meant something to Garrus, as the alien began to talk very fast with those growly syllables, nodding his head and leaving in a hurry.
"Huh? No, wait!" Too late, and she heard the door click shut before he hurried off.
She growled and flung back onto her pillow, pouting. "He better not bring that doctor."
Garrus returned to his post half an hour later. Shepard was still where he'd left her – thank the spirits – slouching against her pillow and staring at the now sealed airduct with yearning desire. In his tow was Ira, still snarling her protests and demanding he take the food back to the kitchens.
He ignored her.
Shepard barely bothered to glare at them as the door whooshed open, but perked up when she noticed the silver tray in his hands. Garrus gave himself a mental pat on the back. So she had been asking for food.
"This is a waste of our resources. Did you even ask the Captain first?" Ira skirted around the bed, arms folded over her chest.
"I did actually. He approved of the idea. We don't want her to starve to death, Ira."
"What did the spectre say?"
He failed to answer, wincing as he remembered Saren's bitter tone. 'why the sudden compassion, Vakarian? Worried the monster will die?'
"Garrus? Did Saren approve?"
He placed the tray on Shepards lap and released her from the shackles holding her chest down. Shepard was glad to be sitting up again, and flashed him her teeth in that odd smile of hers. Meanwhile Ira was sucking through her own, hand inching to her gun.
The turians watched as Shepard first gulped down her mug of water. A trickle ran down her pink cheek and Garrus followed it, ignoring the scathing glare Ira shot his way. Next came the food, and Shepard prodded at the blue substance with a wrinkling of her nose. Clearly not what she was use to, but she dug in happily enough, smacking her lips together at the foreign taste.
"Why are you always in here with it?" Ira said whilst they watched the Taylor eat.
"Ira, not now" he groaned. They'd done nothing but argue for the past two days. He suspected she was two clicks away from challenging him to a fight down at the ring. And he was near mad enough to accept. Garrus was plain sick of having his head bitten off whenever he so much looked at Shepard. "I just think the more we can learn about this species the better."
"Bullshit. You like it."
"Her." He all but growled.
"See?! I have half a mind to report y – " her threat fell short as Shepard started choking, pink face turning a blotchy red while she spluttered and coughed up her food. "Stupid thing can't even chew." Ira smirked.
Garrus hissed in worry, patting Shepard just that little too hard on the back as she clutched at her neck and braced against her leg straps. The tray of food went flying and she strained and struggled, foam forming at the corner of her mouth. "Ira, get the doctor!" He said, horrified.
Ira kept still, laughing.
Shepard continued to struggle, nails leaving red trails in her neck as she cut through skin. Garrus reached out for her, hesitated, then sunk his fingers into the strange wavy strings that formed on her head, surprised at their softness. He tilted her face close to his own. Shepard stared up at him, wide eyed and terrified, with maybe just the smallest hint of anger. She probably thought he'd done this on purpose, and any trust they'd managed to scrape together before was now gone. No matter, he'd work on that later. With a desperate urgency, Garrus stuck his fingers into her mouth and reached down her throat. She felt wet and warm and bit against his fingers, hard. But there was no food to dislodge, and he came to the horrifying conclusion that this was actually an allergic reaction.
"She can't have dextro food… Oh crap. Ira, get Dr. Curae!"
"Since when do you give the –?"
"NOW!"
Ira spun on her heels with a snarl, slamming her fist against the door before she left, either to go collect the doctor or to just sulk in her room. It was hard to say, and Garrus forgot about her quickly. He ripped off the last fastens keeping Shepard's legs pinned down, snapping them with brute force and allowing her to roll onto her side. Immediately she began to vomit, blue sludge pouring from her mouth and onto his shoes with a splatter. Lovely. Garrus bit down his revulsion and rubbed her back, reminding himself that this was his own fault.
They stayed like that a while. Shepard emptying her stomach, Garrus attempting to sooth her with soft coos and gentle touches. Though his efforts were not appreciated; as soon as her shaking had subsided his hand was being swatted away, and she was glaring up at him with two stormy grey eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand as her brow furrowed.
Oh crap.
"Shepard, I didn't realise. Shepard." He said in a gentle tone, as she would not understand any spoken apology. The language barrier was seriously going to get him into trouble. "Chair?" He tried weakly, attempting their game.
Bad move, as with an angry snarl that could rival Ira's, Shepard was on her feet and picking up said chair, flinging it at him.
He ducked, wincing as the heavy object crashed against the door. Shepard was upon him instantly, bashing her fists against his armoured chest. Clearly weak from earlier, otherwise he was sure she'd be landing him with a solid punch that could make a krogan reel.
"I didn't mean to make you ill! I promise. Shepard, stop!" He held onto her wrists, wrestling her back onto the bed and – regretfully - clipping her chest straps into place. Shepard continued to fight anyway, arching her back against the bindings. There was no talking her down, until another cramp left her groaning in pain, clutching her stomach and pressing her face into the pillow, defeated.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Shepard." Garrus pushed the sweaty pieces of string from her forehead, sighing with relief when he allowed him to do so. "Dr Solus is a salarian. He'll bring levo-amino food with him. Until then you'll have to stick to water." He said, more to himself than her, sighing.
Shepard was sick twice more before she managed to fall into a fitful sleep. It was as Garrus was cleaning the floor that he realised, Ira had not collected Dr. Curae.
Another two days passed with Shepard receiving nothing but water. Her rumbling tummy had evolved from a passing annoyance, into a stabbing agony that left her feeling exhausted whenever the spasms occurred. Not to mention the lack of bowel control she now had. Her shits had turned into uncontrollable, stinking runs that left her legs slick and forced the aliens to change the bed sheets each time – much to Ira's disapproval.
That was another thing. Though she did not like Garrus, he was a sight for sore eyes after Ira had been watching her. The female alien was becoming increasingly hostile, and was not above man-handling her whenever they were alone. Fighting back was no use. Once Shepard had twisted her wrist in protest as Ira tried to push her off the bed for fresh sheets, only to be pinned to the floor with a gun pressing into her neck and a lot of snarling in her ear.
No, if she'd learnt one thing it was to not fuck around with Ira. There'd be time enough to shoot her when she eventually escaped, which she would.
If Shepard had a third complaint (and she certainly did) it was the lack of clothes. Though the doctor had covered up her groin - and waist, for some odd reason - with bandages to give her a small shred of decency, no one seemed to care about her chest; and Shepard's nipples were constantly puckered with chill. Breasts obviously meant very little to the aliens though, and at the very least she had a scratchy blanket to hide under, if nothing else.
What was worse was the boredom. There was absolutely nothing to do. Her days consisted of saying random nouns to Garrus, trying not to shit the bed, shitting the bed, and avoiding Ira's glares. Even Garrus was becoming increasingly frustrating. His kind and gentle attitude only confused her, and his growing worry at her quickly deteriorating health was not helpful or wanted. She resented his sympathy, and he would be among the dead when she finally did escape, somehow, someday.
Even now, he was attempting to teach her the word for ceiling, pointing up at the air ducts and repeating some guttural word she could not remember. But his eyes were full of empathy, and his flanging voice cracked in a way that flared her temper.
He quickly noticed her refusal to play again, and they sat in an uncomfortable silence. Shepard tried not to clutch onto her belly, wincing as she wished for a distraction, anything to take her mind off her hunger.
"Shepard?" Garrus asked, and she turned to stare at him. He pointed at her head, then at his horns.
"It's hair." She said, tired. "Hair."
"Hair?"
"Yeah. Here." Without thinking, she pulled a strand off her head and passed it to him. Garrus practically fell off his seat, eyes wide as he stared at her in horror. Maybe it was the equivalent of watching a man pull off a limb, and despite her pain Shepard found herself laughing, shaking her head as it sent a rumble of pain down her front.
"N-No. It doesn't hurt. It's just hair. Look." She pulled off another, waving it gently in front of him as he sat back down. Every so slowly, Garrus reached out and curled one talon around a few red strands. He seemed utterly mesmerized, and Shepard smiled for the first time in days.
Until he tried to tug a chunk out, and she cried out, batting his hand away, moment over. "Ouch! Not so much as once. Jeez. Just one strand at a time. See?" She gave him the two strands still in her hand, and he examined them critically while she laid back down and tried to keep her eyes open. Her stomach was acting up again, and Shepard clenched her butt in fear of embarrassing herself. He obviously noticed her discomfort, as Garrus had directed his acute stare in her direction. She was getting better at reading his expressions, and the unhidden pity she found there nagged at her.
"Stop looking at me like that." She said, finding it therapeutic to talk to him even if he couldn't understand. "I know you tried to poison me. Or maybe it was Ira. One of you anyway, you're the worst guards in history." Her stomach grumbled, and Garrus's taloned hand reached it before her own, rubbing little circles onto her skin. It helped slightly, and so she allowed it. "Just wait. A few days rest and I'll be out of here. I'll find my crew, and maybe that Taylor you all keep barking on about. I'll… I'll…" Shepard sighed, sleep calling to her once again, eyelids turning heavy as Garrus continued his soothing rubs and purred some sentence at her. "Just wait, you're dead Garrus. You're dead."
It was another hour before Ira was due for her shift, yet the doors whooshed open only moments after Shepard had fallen asleep. Garrus turned to glare, then snapped to attention to find Captain Fidus stood in the door frame, hand leaving Shepard's stomach as if she were fire.
"Captain! I didn't – "
"At ease, Garrus." Fidus marched in, wandering to Shepard's head. Almost immediately his hand reached out to play with her hair, and Garrus bit down on his tongue, hard. "It's not dead, is it?"
"No, sir. The Taylor's sleep for long periods of time. Longer than us, longer than Asari even."
"Hm. I come bearing bad news I'm afraid. It seems our Salarian doctor has been delayed."
"D-Delayed, Captain?" He said, horrified. How long would Shepard have to wait for food now?
"Yes. Something about a plague, on Omega of all places. Kills turians apparently." Fidus scoffed. "I hardly understood what he was going on about to be honest. The man talks fast even for a salarian."
Fidus leaned down, doing what Garrus had been daydreaming about for days, and sniffed Shepard's hair. The intrusion of her personal space made him hot with anger. His hands clenched into fists, and Garrus held them behind his back to keep from tackling his Captain.
"What about her food, sir?" He said through a clenched jaw, failing to keep the temper from his tone, but at least distracting Fidus enough to stand back upright.
"Ah. Well there is some good news on that front. We've got a replacement you see. Just until Solus can arrive. I hear she's very good, if not a little young. The best in her class."
"You're too kind, Captain Fidus." A cheery voice rang out, and they both turned towards the culprit. Saren had joined them by the door way, a nervous Asari at his side. She smiled kindly at them both, dressed head to toe in a white medical attire. Garrus noted how similar her frame was to Shepard's. She'd finally be able to wear clothes. She'd like that.
"Hello. I am Dr. Liara T'Soni. This is the specimen, is it not?" She didn't give them time to answer, slipping past Saren and wandering to the bed. Eyes were wide with wonder, and Liara clasped her hands together in an unhidden excitement. "Oh but shes beautiful! Finally a female. Dr. Solus never told me they could grow red hair too."
"I take it then, you're familiar with the Taylors?" Saren's cold voice cut through her joyous demeanour, and Liara cleared her throat nervously as the Spectre rounded on her.
"Oh, well, yes. I mean – I've read all of Dr. Solus's papers. Though my field of study is actually more cantered towards, urm, protheans. Prothean culture to be exact. I've just come from Knossos in fact. There are the most remarkable prothean ruins there, I could barely tear myself away. Well that's partly true, I mean, I would have been here yesterday, but there was this little issue with the barrier curtains and I accidentally suspended myself –"
"So this is the first Taylor you've even seen face to face?" The spectre cut her off and stepped forward. Garrus was amazed the commotion had not woken Shepard up, and glanced to her with a frown, noting the sweat dotting her forehead. A fever.
"Err, it is. But I, erm." Dr. T'soni was clearly feeling nervous, and glanced to Captain Fidus for moral support, receiving none. He was still staring at Shepard's hair, ignoring them.
"What use are you then, doctor? Why did Solus even bother sending you?"
His cruel words hung heavy in the air, and Liara's face had turned a deep blue, arms stiff at her sides. When she finally spoke, Garrus was impressed to hear her voice ring out firm and confident, glaring up at Saren with a bravery he'd be hard pressed to match.
"Because, Spectre Arterius, I know a great deal more than anyone else on this ship. Dr. Solus would not have sent me if he had no faith in my abilities, I can assure you. Not only that, but I've brought animo-food, suitable clothes, and medical supplies that are not strictly for turians. I also went to great pains and found a language chip that can be applied without an omni-tool. If I go, the Taylor will surely die, if her malnourished state is anything to go by. I give her another week, tops." She raised her chin, eyes narrowing. "If I stay, not only does she live, but we all get to understand what she is saying. I'm sure she has a great deal of secrets you would care to know."
Saren growled low under his breath, not breaking eye contact with Liara for a few more heated moments. Eventually he turned away.
"Fine. Garrus, help Dr. T'Soni insert the language chip. I want the beast ready for interrogations tomorrow morning."