// New follower prompt. Post ME3 Destroy ending, Shakarian. More fluff rather than angst. Making up for this morning, I guess!
It had been weeks of suffering through her waxing and waning consciousness. Some days she was awake for a few hours at a time, others she would show no sign of ever opening her eyes. The best doctors in the galaxy were taking care of Shepard, but it didn’t stop one particular turian from worrying, no matter what the rest of the crew said.
“If I’m up in that bar, and you’re not… I’ll be watching. You’ll never be alone.”
She just had to say it. Garrus didn’t want to imagine a life without her, but her injuries had been so severe; third degree burns to half her body, first and second degree covering most of the rest; her left arm, amputated, unrecoverable form the damage it had suffered; pins and bars to support shattered bones; hemorrhaging in several internal organs. But she was alive. Breathing. Barely.
Some days he would just talk to the empty room, not knowing if she was awake enough to hear it. Little things. Talking about their friends that survived the Normandy’s crash. The ones that didn’t. About his family on Palaven and wanting to take her to meet them. He’d been lucky. Both his father and his sister survived. Shepard survived. Many of his friends survived. Sure, there were some that didn’t… but, in the grand scheme of things, he knew he was lucky.
Today was one of Shepard’s better days. She had been awake enough to try and eat solid food in the morning. It had stayed down without too much trouble. Though she did sleep through most of the rest of the day, she was awake now to watch the blazing red sun dip below the smoggy horizon.
“It’s still a mess out there, isn’t it.” Had it been three years ago, Garrus probably would have answered, not realizing her questions were usually rhetorical. He’d learned. “How bad was it?”
“Pretty bad. Could have been worse - you know, fate of trillions resting in your hands alone. You’re a hero to just about everyone left.”
“Just about?” Shepard glanced back from the window to look at him without turning her head. The cracking scabs on her neck would always cause momentary discomfort. This healing wasn’t as clean as Lazarus.
“Can’t make everyone happy.”
She spared a laugh, stifling the cough that followed with the prototype arm that had been fitted to her shoulder. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now. “I supposed not. Risk your life for a galaxy, and there’s always someone who will complain. Let me guess, it was Sparatus?”
It was Garrus’ turn to laugh. “Surprisingly not. He’s been especially quiet since Palaven fell. I think he finally learned his lesson to actually listen to you for once.”
“I doubt that. I’d expect the Reapers to come back from the dead before I get any concessions from that Turian.”
“We are stubborn!”
Despite the pain and uncomfortable stretching of still healing skin, Shepard managed a smile, slowly walking her hand across the blankets to find his and grasp it tightly. “Not always a bad thing…” The excessive tire returned, washing over her body almost like her systems were shutting down one by one, a ship going dark. A haze covered her eyes that they all had begun to recognize.
“What now, Vakarian…?”
“I, uhm, well… I know this is a bad time, but…” It was a human expression to have ‘clammy’ hands, but that was certainly how Garrus felt at this moment. Everything they’d been through couldn’t prepare him for this moment. He’d rather face down a Reaper like she did on Rannoch.
“Say it Vakarian, or I’m going to sleep.”
The words blurted out of this throat before he could take them back. Now that they were out, both of them sat frozen trying to comprehend the situation, and understand what was said. Shepard turned her head to look at him fully. “Say that again.”
“Uhm…” he hesitated, getting that telltale Shepard glare as he rubbed his hands together. “Marry me?”
A long moment of silence stretched between them. It was neither good nor bad, his own heart hammering in his head, running through every possibility of rejection. She could hate him for ruining what they had. Or chase him away. Or tell him she doesn’t care about him like that. Or tell him that she still loved Kaidan more than him.
Every thought in his mind ground to a screeching halt. “What?”
“Sure. But, you’re going to ask me again, and next time you’re going to have a ring.” The way she said it was so deadpanned, like he should have seen it coming, but this was about the last thing he expected to hear.
Something wasn’t adding up, no matter how many times he ran through it in his head. “Wait, what? I thought you hated that ancient tradition? Thought it was demeaning and antiquated?”
Shepard just shrugged, a grin splitting her face. “Sure, but that was before I had a impressionable turian lover that would spend probably his entire salary on one. Besides… I’m sure you can find a scene from Fleet and Flotilla to make it just perfect.” Those lips curled into such a shit eating grin that Garrus knew he’d been played.
“I’ve been had! Alright. Ring, soundtrack, someplace with a gorgeous view, and somehow make it a surprise. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
“Consider it practice, Vakarian. I won’t go easy on you, just because we’ll be married.” The exhastion was returning, muffling her voice and making her eyelids heavy, though she stubbornly held eye contact with Garrus as long as she could. “I love you, Garrus.”
His nose brushed against her forehead as he kissed her to sleep. “I love you too, Shepard.”