From: CC
To: LTS
You have not yet told us why you refuse to be part of Shepard's crew.
From: LTS
To: CC
No, I have not.
Rather than ordering Garrus up to her room, Shepard decided to visit him in the gun battery. He had set up a bunk in there; the area did not seem particularly comfortable but if that was what he wanted, Shepard was more than happy to let him stay there.
Donning the black, high necked, double breasted uniform she had taken a liking to, she stepped into the elevator. She had seen the look on Garrus' face on Zorya and was not looking forward to the meeting. What was she going to say to the man? She had sacrificed dozens of innocent people, for the sake of one morally devoid mercenary. She thought about everything they had talked about on the old Normandy - they had spent hours discussing what cost should be paid for justice, why sometimes the easiest option was not the right one.
I am such a damned hypocrite...
What she had done was worse than risking civilians in an attempt to capture a fugitive. Far worse. After everything she had said to him...
She was in front of the gun battery. She barely remembered the walk. She was about to reach out and open the hatch when it opened itself and Garrus barrelled forward with a determined look on his face, only to stop short as he saw the human in front of him.
'Oh, hey Shepard, I was just about to come and see you.'
She gestured back into the gun battery.
'We can talk in there.'
They walked back into the cramped gun battery. Shepard saw a small pile of blankets and personal effects to the left of the cannons, and a list of names scratched into the wall just above them. One of the names had been vandalised. On the small work bench beside her lay an assortment of gun oils and mods, alongside a dismantled sniper rifle: a very pricey M-98 Widow if she was not mistaken.
'I see you've made yourself at home.'
'Yeah, considering Cerberus knew you would be bringing aliens aboard, they didn't do much in terms of providing the right living accommodation.'
'I could-'
'Nah, don't bother. I like it in here. Besides, it means you'll have perfectly calibrated guns, every time.'
Garrus leant against the rail beside the guns, and Shepard sat on a nearby crate.
'I'm more worried about you, Shepard. Spirits, what happened with Zaeed?'
'I... I don't know, Garrus.'
'You don't know? You killed dozens of innocent people!'
She flinched, and looked at the floor.
'I know that! I meant... I don't know why.'
'You don't know why? You're Commander Shepard! You always know!' He looked agitated.
'Am I?'
'What?'
She dropped her voice.
'Am I Commander Shepard? I remember her being sure of everything, always knowing the right answer. I... can't even act like her any more Garrus. Back on Omega, when we were picking up Mordin, I executed three Batarians. Pop pop pop, Just like that. Would she have done that? It's like... I've got this body, this mind, these memories, but I can't fit myself into them. Just like this damned ship: so much like the old Normandy, but it isn't the same.'
She looked up at him.
'I almost blurted all of this out to the damn psychologist earlier, Garrus. I know that I hate psychologists, and I know I definitely don't go opening up in front of strangers. But I nearly did it anyway.
'And it's just... making me angry. I can't care about anything. I saw those workers and decided Zaeed's gun would be more useful to me. You can see these damned scars.' She gestured at her face, where she could feel them burning. 'Showing just how I feel.'
She took a breath.
'I woke up to them screaming, Garrus'
They sat silently for some time. Was it unfair to drop all of this on Garrus? They had become good friends on the Normandy SR1, but it was more an easy camaraderie, rather than the deeper bond she shared with Liara.
'Do you remember what I was like when I first joined the Normandy, Shepard?'
She did. He was young and hot-headed, sure of what he wanted but unsure of how to get it.
'Of course, Garrus.'
'I just wanted... to do something. I felt so helpless at all of the injustice in the world, and was willing to do some pretty stupid stuff to fight it. Remember Doctor Saleon?'
'Yeah.'
'That shot still keeps me up at night, Shepard. I still wonder if just executing him like that was the right thing to do. I've had much bigger decisions to make since then, killed dozens, maybe hundreds, sometimes in far worse ways than him. But that's the one that sticks.
'I'm not going to lie and say that's the same as what you did. But it seems to me like you've got a choice to make, Shepard. Are you going to turn into someone who kills civilians for jaded mercs, or are you going to remember what a damned hero you are, and start acting like it again?'
'I'm no hero, Garrus.'
He stood up, his voice much more animated than before.
'You might think that Shepard, but the Galaxy knows otherwise. Your crew knows otherwise.'
She snorted.
'Right, I just need a bunch of people following me around to shout at me. Do you know that Liara had to yell at me to get me back on my feet before Ilos? If she wasn't there, Sovereign would have won. She's the hero, not me.'
'That's what friends are for, Shepard. I'm with you, to the end of this. I tried on my own, and I couldn't do it. But if I can help you, whether it's covering your ass on the battlefield or picking you up when you're feeling like crap, I'll do it.'
He held out his hand, the physical manifestation of what he was trying to do emotionally.
Was that what friends did? Until she became a SPECTRE, she had only ever relied on herself, and it had worked. Life, if not happy or easy, had been good and she knew her place. Then the Normandy's crew had become close, and she had taken the plunge, opened up. But all it seemed to bring was pain and weakness. She had nearly broken down when Ashley died. She had forced Liara away, hurt her, and hurt herself in doing so.
But was there strength as well? Garrus was here, after she had committed an atrocity, offering to help her. She had always commanded fear and respect, but never loyalty like this. If she had fallen before, who would have helped her up? Anderson, maybe? Could she even count him as a friend?
She took the Turian's hand. The leathery texture and thick, heavy talons felt strange, but reassuring. Her friend pulled her to her feet.
The scars on her face were not hurting as much.
'Thanks, Garrus. Really. I'm glad you're here.'
'So am I, Shepard. Glad to have you back.'
After a few seconds, he gave her an odd look. She could still not read Turian facial expressions perfectly, especially when said Turian had one mandible covered in bandages, but she thought it was amusement.
'Liara shouted at you?'
She chuckled.
'Yeah. She pretty much called me a coward, then helped me get the hell up and do something. She had so much strength, hiding under that gentle exterior.'
'You and she were close, Shepard. I'm not going to pry, but I get the feeling you want to talk to her about this as well. Have you thought about tracking her down? I know where she is, how you can get in touch-'
'Thanks Garrus, but I'm not going to press her. She deserves better than a life like this.'
'You dying was hardest on her, Shepard. We... kept in touch, for a little while. She was getting more and more involved in the information trade when we last spoke, and not just for finding out more about the Reapers. That's a nasty business, Shepard. I'm sure you've heard about cutthroat deals and backstabbing businessmen; in this industry they mean it literally. She's probably needing a friend as much as you do.'
Liara sat on her overly large sofa, in her overly large apartment, with a glass of Thessian red wine cradled in her hand. Heavy rain pelted the huge windows, and she could occasionally see the flash of lightning, followed by hearing the heavy rumble of thunder over the pounding rain.
Storms like this were rare on Illium. The planet's weather was usually tame; a combination of gentle natural conditions and decades of climate manipulation designed to ensure the planet was as suitable for "respectable" business as possible.
She loved it.
The power was fluctuating; the lines not strengthened to withstand such abuse, so Liara had turned off the lights and lit candles. The gently scented smoke drifted lazily in beautiful spirals across the room, and Liara imagined she could see it curling into familiar shapes. The Normandy. A Krogan. Faith.
She glanced at the ruined, black, N7 chestplate she had mounted in a cabinet across the room. An absurd keepsake, but one that gave her some measure of comfort. She knew Shepard was alive now, and well on her way to building the team that would help her take the first steps in the war against the Reapers. As she did often, she wondered if she was doing the right thing by staying away from her.
They both had important work to do, and Liara could not do hers aboard an active starship.
She stood and wandered to the armour, the sound of the storm drowning out her gentle footsteps. She had glimpsed Faith's remains before handing her over to Miranda. A ruin, a tortured parody of a human body. The visible skin was charred beyond recognition. What was left of her limbs were separated from her torso, laid gently alongside it. The team collecting the body had removed the helmet for some reason, leaving her head exposed. Liara had only glanced, and saw the exposed skull, before shutting the lid of the stasis pod. It was difficult to imagine how a person could be revived from death, especially a death like that, but Cerberus had done it. She knew Garrus was with her now, and Garrus would not follow an imposter.
'Is it worth it?' she asked the wrecked breastplate.
'I have done such horrible things... lies, blackmail, murder and worse.'
A flash of lightning illuminated the room, casting jagged shadows across the wall behind the torn armour.
'It is getting harder, to remember what it is all for.'
She took a sip of wine, barely tasting the expensive vintage.
'I ask myself, every time, "What would you do?"'
She looked down, at the dogtags she had framed beneath the armour.
'Often, I suspect you would not approve. But you told me once, that we all do what we have to.'
She reached a finger and brushed the glass over the name on the tag, somehow untouched by the carnage wrought on the rest of the small piece of metal.
'I am doing what I have to. Sometimes I wish it were not so, but I cannot afford the luxury of wishes.'
There was an enormous crack of thunder that shook the windows in their sockets, and the rain finally began to ease.
Liara turned her back to the armour, meaning to head to bed, but found that she did not want to leave. Whether it was the wine, the loneliness or something else, she could almost feel the human's presence in the room, and had one more thing she wanted to say.
'I miss you, Faith.'
