Sable Phoenix wrote...
This is a scene that's been banging to get out of my head for days and days now. I don't remember how the description of Shepard and the difference between ME1 and ME2 came to me, but it's such a perfect representation of Jessica I had to write it down.
---
Garrus crossed his arms wearily over his chestplate and studied Miranda, equal measures annoyed and amused at her question. “That’s because you don’t know her."
Miranda lifted her chin, a belligerent and aggressive mannerism for turians, but he had spent enough time among humans to recognize hauteur or disdain, or more likely, both. Regardless of species, the gesture clamped his mandibles tight against aggravation that leapt inside him like a varren.
“There is nothing about Jessica Shepard I don’t know,” Miranda said, her half-hooded eyes somehow carrying a chill that rivaled vacuum. “Every military and medical record, every media appearance and extranet article…”
“Is crap,” Garrus snapped, cutting her off and straightening. “You know about her. You don’t know her.” He stared down at Miranda, his mandibles flaring as he struggled for the way to describe Shepard that would make Miranda understand exactly what kind of crime she and Cerberus had committed. But he was no poet, and for several long seconds he simply locked his gaze with Miranda’s, rifling through his memories of Shepard as she used to be, searching vainly for the words that would encapsulate the most complex alien he had ever met. For a moment the memories would not come, and that old familiar ache of loss settled its wings over his shoulders and sank its teeth into his heart once again. Then abruptly the pictures were flashing behind his eyes: Shepard looking regally over their little assembly in the debriefing room after a mission; Shepard with her head close to Pressley's as they went over duty rosters; Shepard sharing that tiny grin with Chief Williams as she walked away from one of their private talks; Shepard on her back under the Mako beside him, handing him tools as they soothed the scrapes of the latest mission.
Bright; bright and distant. Whether in the light places or the dark places of the galaxy, Shepard had blazed like a remote beacon, like...
“Shepard was a star,” he said, grinding the words out between his fangs. “And we were the planets she gathered around herself. The Normandy was her own little solar system. We could never touch her… well most of us couldn’t, except...” He almost said Ashley's name, brought up short on Liara’s, although he could not -- or did not want to -- say why. Then he pushed on before Miranda could narrow her expression into suspicion. “But we were never getting away from her, either. And that was fine, because she gave us light and direction and… and warmth.” He stumbled lamely over the surprisingly intimate words, at a loss for any other way to describe how Shepard had held them all in place, how she had bent the universe around her into making sense... how she had cared. Then abrupt anger slammed into the back of his throat and he shoved himself away from the railing, striding forward to loom over Miranda, forcing her back a step as her eyes widened.
“Cerberus snuffed her,” he growled. Shepard was colder now, darker, somehow even more remote than before. “Now she’s… she’s a brown dwarf. She’s just this rogue giant diving through a system straight towards the sun, with nothing…" he gestured vaguely to the side, fumbling for the words, “nothing about it, nothing bright or warm, just capturing all the smaller bodies it passes like detritus. Pulling us all helplessly along with her to join in the destruction at the end of it.” He snapped his mandibles shut and took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before looking back down at Miranda in time to see her throat contract in a nervous swallow. Satisfaction fluttered briefly through his chest like an insect before he squashed it as unworthy. He turned away from her, walking back to his console and jabbing a talon at the orange-lit panel. It activated with an indignant beep.
“You said you wanted to bring her back exactly the same,” Garrus found himself saying, his voice low. “You failed."
"I... We did not!" Miranda's indignant reply threw itself between them, a sentry in full combat armor. "Every scan and test we've run shows she is physically and mentally the same woman. What we accomplished was a miracle!"
A half-bark of mirthless laughter leapt from his mouth in response to her defensiveness. "There's more to life than being alive. You brought her back, but you’ve taken everything else from her, and now she’s less than she was.” He let his voice drop further, into a rumbling register that would have told any turian exactly how precarious their situation had become. “I’ll never forgive you for that.”
He doubted Miranda knew enough about turians to catch the full implication of his tone, but he heard a small intake of breath from her nonetheless. No insects fluttered through his chest this time; the loss had started gnawing on his heart again. “Now if you don’t mind,” he said, tapping up a schematic of the half-completed Thanix installation and lacing his voice with as much scorn as he could muster through the weariness, “I’m in the middle of some calibrations.”
---
I ended up amazed that this scene turned more into one about Garrus than about Shepard per se.
Bravo, Sable! Bravo!
You wrote Garrus and Miranda spot-on. I could totally see this happening in the actual game. The writers need to do something like this. They need to put the focus back on Shepard like you did. I hope that her squadmates would be concerned about her now, after everything she has been through and done for them.