The girl cocked her head to the side, although it drooped just a little further than she probably intended, her fatigue becoming evident, as she watched the strange exchange between the human and the turian. Vakarian was going to stick to his guns and refuse to harm her. She knew this. She wouldn't argue with him. He wasn't the one she was intending to influence, either way.
But Lyle...his indecision, his reluctance, his inner turmoil would have been apparent without his expressive reflection in the mirror behind him. "You're looking for the other solutions. Anything but this," she said flatly, her voice sounding weaker now, more distant. "For compromise, for a way that I can go back to where I belong without anyone getting hurt. Things don't always work like that. If the situation were reversed, she would have made her decision already. No hesitation, no fear. She would live with the consequences, cope with the pain...but she would do what had to be done. She would have killed your reflection long ago."
She ran her bloody hand across the surface of the mirror, sinking down into a sitting position in front of it. "I could have gone back by my own power, before...but I'm so weak, so weak...my hold in this world is slipping on its own, an awkward feeling, too weak to will myself back, too strong to have given up and faded by now. No, I'm sorry, I'm too tired to go anywhere. If you don't mind, I will rest here. Make your decision quickly, before it's made for you."
It was not the time or the place for it, but the admission threw him for such a loop, that he just had to say something.
"You're what?"
No more than that. It was all he'd say, and all that needed to be said for right now. There was a more pressing problem. He had a very strong urge to just pick up the reflection, and toss it into the nearest mirror. Hell, that was how she'd gotten out in the first place. And that would solve everything nicely.
She wasn't talking to him, no problem. He wouldn't talk to her. Dylandy probably wouldn't listen to him any more than the damn reflection would, but... he had to try.
He turned slightly, his back to the reflection, but still at an angle where the other man could hear him. This wasn't right. There was a special place in Garrus' personal hell for people who liked to screw with each others' heads. His reflection among them. "It's not going to let you do anything," he said, stressing the gender-neutral pronoun. It wasn't a person. It was a reflection. Nothing. "It's going to let itself fade away or whatever, just to screw with you. It isn't her. It's something they made."
Garrus paused, and glanced back over his shoulder, mandibles pulling off his teeth at the little display. Whatever gratitude he had for that thing rescuing him... had evaporated. "That's what they do. They take something you love, and they make you watch when it dies." Shepard. "I know it better than anyone. Whatever you do... do not let it get into your head. This... isn't real." He tried to catch the other's eye again.
"If any of this had been real, Dylandy, you would have had a bullet through your brain." His tone wasn't boastful, just simple fact--one gunman to another. "I don't miss."
It was really all he could do. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't.... but he'd tried.
Indecision, that feeling of not being able to do anything and call it right had been eating at him. His reflection frizzed and crackled, looking no better than TV snow and it was starting to affect him physically in this plane. Just fuzzing at the sides, feeling like little electric ant bites all around his edges. It hurt, but it was hardly noticeable compared to the scene before him.
Vakarians words did help, though, and the interference started to calm. He at least knew that the he would not have to fight the Turian off, whatever happened. In a strange way, he had come to grow almost fond of the strange, frustrating little reflection but, then, that made sense if she truly was a part of Samus. Not the whole package, though. And, as Vakarian said, the reflections weren't real. What was more, they went back right where they came from. More than anything, he realized, it was the act that bothered him. That actual step of being responsible for the death of someone in a personal face to face way. The principle of it. But, in the end, this was all just smoke and mirrors, wasn't it?
His gaze met Vakarian's. "Well, if none of this is real, then... might as well end it, huh?"
Lyle stepped forward and reached over to put one hand on top of the girl's head. The gesture was almost gentle, if firm. He looked up at the mirror, at the real Samus, to calm himself. He then squeezed his eyes shut, placed his other hand under the reflection's chin, and wrenched as hard as he could.
The sound of it was gut-wrenching. The feel of it was worse. Lyle found himself stepping back and leaning against the mirror, trying to convince himself that being sick in the middle of the hallway was not a good idea. Meanwhile his reflection waned pale beside him, though the static was now gone.
Ordinarily, the reflection would have objected to Lyle touching her. But she knew his motivations. Knew he wouldn't try to help her, try to be gentle with her. In her weakened state, her inhuman eyes glanced over at Lyle, seeming to look grateful as he put that first gentle hand on her head. As if some part of her, some part of Samus herself, wanted to absolve him of his guilt, assure him he was doing the right thing.
And then he closed his eyes, and she closed hers in the same moment. And as the snap sounded in the hallway, the pitiful creature vanished from Lyle's grip, the real Samus tumbling from the mirror next to where he was crouching. And behind her, in the mirror where she belonged, was the reflection, uninjured, the traces of blood from the battle gone. Still fragile, and her expression that of total forgiveness. She then turned her head to glare at Vakarian's reflection, as if daring it to try anything else. When this event was over, when they were no longer rooted to their copies on the other side of the mirror, would the reflections live on? Did they honestly have their own world? Would the fragile, emotionally open little reflection continue her hunt for the vicious turian long after their dramatic fight in a world that wasn't their own?
But Samus could think of any of that as she climbed back to her feet and yanked off her helmet. She was torn...she should crouch down to try to comfort Lyle? Should she leave him be? Should she leave the scene entirely? She looked at her reflection for the answer, and only got a small shake of her head in return. The pain of what Lyle must be feeling at the moment was her chief concern, Samus was at a total loss for the right thing to do at that moment, wracked with guilt at having been the one to cause it.
Because in the end, the reflection had been right: those who got close to Samus only knew pain and suffering and death.
It wasn't the outcome he'd been hoping for. The damn thing had won, in the end. But in a way, they all had. His had plastered his secrets everywhere, without discretion for who it spoke to, and attacked those close to him. It had shaken any faith the others would have had in him, and done so easily. But that was personal. He could deal with personal. It, at least, hadn't tried to get into anyone else's head but his.
He stayed turned away from the scene until the sickening crunch was heard. Had bone-breaking not been Wrex's favorite method of taking his enemies down, Garrus doubted he'd be as steady as he was right now. Only when he heard the sound of another body in the hall did he turn back, his pale eyes hard. The reflections were all back where they belonged... and he glared at the woman's. Ineffective and childish as it was, hell, it made him feel a little better.
There was silence in the hall for a good long while. He didn't know what to do. All too well, he understood the feeling of killing someone--someone who refused to fight back. But... this hadn't been real. This had been taking care of a mess.
Easy to say that, when it's not me.
"Will you be all right?" he asked, finally. The phrasing was deliberate. It was obvious the other man was not doing well, he knew better than to ask that. And he hadn't addressed it to anyone in particular. It was just... there.
Somewhere along the line, he could not remember when, Lyle had pulled his helmet off. This was helpful since not only did it make it easier to breathe, it made it possible for him to rest his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror until the wave of nausea that had threatened to overtake him passed. Once he felt more stable, Lyle pushed away from the glass and slowly stood, looking at the other two.
Real. They were real, unlike the rest of the company he had been keeping in the hall. He ran that thought through his head like a mantra in an effort to drown out the mental instant replay of that sickening crack. Eventually, something like calm washed over him (though, chances were that it was as much numbness and exhaustion as anything).
When Garrus asked his question, Lyle was jarred from his blank staring and blinked. Future tense. Would he be alright? Well, yeah... eventually. Lyle simply nodded before looking over at Samus to see what her answer to the general question was.
And then, it clicked. She was free and she was fine (physically; emotionally and mentally was debatable for all of them) and wasn't that what he was after during this whole fiasco? In spite of himself, Lyle found the corners of his mouth turning up in a tiny, relieved smile that, despite being weak, was genuine.
Samus heard Garrus' question, but she ignored it for the time being. Really, she seemed to be ignoring the turian himself, which wasn't intentionally. Once she got confirmation that Lyle wasn't about to have an emotional breakdown, she'd acknowledge Garrus and make sure that he also wasn't on the verge of emotional collapse. And really, she couldn't answer the question for herself until she knew how everyone else was faring. Her physical and mental wellbeing would always be secondary in her mind, after all.
But that small smile made all of the difference. Suddenly it felt as if, for the first time since the battle had ended, everything was truly over. She crouched down, the metal of her suit loud in the otherwise quiet hallway, next to Lyle, resting her helmet next to his so that her hand was free once more, and managed a very faint, exhausted smile of her own, just long enough for Lyle to see, before turning her head to face Garrus at last.
"I don't know," she confessed. "But we'll manage." After all, that's what people like them - all three of them - did: they faced horrific challenges head on, and then picked up the pieces and moved on. It was really all that any of them could do.
His jaw worked, no sound coming out. No words. He stayed where he was in the hall, a good distance away, still holding the damp cloth to the scrape on his shoulder. He turned to go. He was interrupting, wasn't he? What could he possibly do? And there was his own mess to clean up. No one was going to do it for him.
She had sat next to him, maintaining contact; aligning her thigh next to his, slipping her arm around his back and gripping his shoulder hard with her hand...
Well... not anymore, thanks to his damn reflection. And this place. He didn't know how he was even going to start fixing all those bridges, as the saying went. But... he had to try.
He did stop when Aran spoke up. But didn't look back. He knew what he'd see. "All right," he said, cutting himself off before things got too ridiculously melodramatic in his head. "I'll... be around. You know... where."
But Lyle...his indecision, his reluctance, his inner turmoil would have been apparent without his expressive reflection in the mirror behind him. "You're looking for the other solutions. Anything but this," she said flatly, her voice sounding weaker now, more distant. "For compromise, for a way that I can go back to where I belong without anyone getting hurt. Things don't always work like that. If the situation were reversed, she would have made her decision already. No hesitation, no fear. She would live with the consequences, cope with the pain...but she would do what had to be done. She would have killed your reflection long ago."
She ran her bloody hand across the surface of the mirror, sinking down into a sitting position in front of it. "I could have gone back by my own power, before...but I'm so weak, so weak...my hold in this world is slipping on its own, an awkward feeling, too weak to will myself back, too strong to have given up and faded by now. No, I'm sorry, I'm too tired to go anywhere. If you don't mind, I will rest here. Make your decision quickly, before it's made for you."
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"You're what?"
No more than that. It was all he'd say, and all that needed to be said for right now. There was a more pressing problem. He had a very strong urge to just pick up the reflection, and toss it into the nearest mirror. Hell, that was how she'd gotten out in the first place. And that would solve everything nicely.
She wasn't talking to him, no problem. He wouldn't talk to her. Dylandy probably wouldn't listen to him any more than the damn reflection would, but... he had to try.
He turned slightly, his back to the reflection, but still at an angle where the other man could hear him. This wasn't right. There was a special place in Garrus' personal hell for people who liked to screw with each others' heads. His reflection among them. "It's not going to let you do anything," he said, stressing the gender-neutral pronoun. It wasn't a person. It was a reflection. Nothing. "It's going to let itself fade away or whatever, just to screw with you. It isn't her. It's something they made."
Garrus paused, and glanced back over his shoulder, mandibles pulling off his teeth at the little display. Whatever gratitude he had for that thing rescuing him... had evaporated. "That's what they do. They take something you love, and they make you watch when it dies." Shepard. "I know it better than anyone. Whatever you do... do not let it get into your head. This... isn't real." He tried to catch the other's eye again.
"If any of this had been real, Dylandy, you would have had a bullet through your brain." His tone wasn't boastful, just simple fact--one gunman to another. "I don't miss."
It was really all he could do. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't.... but he'd tried.
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Vakarians words did help, though, and the interference started to calm. He at least knew that the he would not have to fight the Turian off, whatever happened. In a strange way, he had come to grow almost fond of the strange, frustrating little reflection but, then, that made sense if she truly was a part of Samus. Not the whole package, though. And, as Vakarian said, the reflections weren't real. What was more, they went back right where they came from. More than anything, he realized, it was the act that bothered him. That actual step of being responsible for the death of someone in a personal face to face way. The principle of it. But, in the end, this was all just smoke and mirrors, wasn't it?
His gaze met Vakarian's. "Well, if none of this is real, then... might as well end it, huh?"
Lyle stepped forward and reached over to put one hand on top of the girl's head. The gesture was almost gentle, if firm. He looked up at the mirror, at the real Samus, to calm himself. He then squeezed his eyes shut, placed his other hand under the reflection's chin, and wrenched as hard as he could.
The sound of it was gut-wrenching. The feel of it was worse. Lyle found himself stepping back and leaning against the mirror, trying to convince himself that being sick in the middle of the hallway was not a good idea. Meanwhile his reflection waned pale beside him, though the static was now gone.
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And then he closed his eyes, and she closed hers in the same moment. And as the snap sounded in the hallway, the pitiful creature vanished from Lyle's grip, the real Samus tumbling from the mirror next to where he was crouching. And behind her, in the mirror where she belonged, was the reflection, uninjured, the traces of blood from the battle gone. Still fragile, and her expression that of total forgiveness. She then turned her head to glare at Vakarian's reflection, as if daring it to try anything else. When this event was over, when they were no longer rooted to their copies on the other side of the mirror, would the reflections live on? Did they honestly have their own world? Would the fragile, emotionally open little reflection continue her hunt for the vicious turian long after their dramatic fight in a world that wasn't their own?
But Samus could think of any of that as she climbed back to her feet and yanked off her helmet. She was torn...she should crouch down to try to comfort Lyle? Should she leave him be? Should she leave the scene entirely? She looked at her reflection for the answer, and only got a small shake of her head in return. The pain of what Lyle must be feeling at the moment was her chief concern, Samus was at a total loss for the right thing to do at that moment, wracked with guilt at having been the one to cause it.
Because in the end, the reflection had been right: those who got close to Samus only knew pain and suffering and death.
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He stayed turned away from the scene until the sickening crunch was heard. Had bone-breaking not been Wrex's favorite method of taking his enemies down, Garrus doubted he'd be as steady as he was right now. Only when he heard the sound of another body in the hall did he turn back, his pale eyes hard. The reflections were all back where they belonged... and he glared at the woman's. Ineffective and childish as it was, hell, it made him feel a little better.
There was silence in the hall for a good long while. He didn't know what to do. All too well, he understood the feeling of killing someone--someone who refused to fight back. But... this hadn't been real. This had been taking care of a mess.
Easy to say that, when it's not me.
"Will you be all right?" he asked, finally. The phrasing was deliberate. It was obvious the other man was not doing well, he knew better than to ask that. And he hadn't addressed it to anyone in particular. It was just... there.
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Real. They were real, unlike the rest of the company he had been keeping in the hall. He ran that thought through his head like a mantra in an effort to drown out the mental instant replay of that sickening crack. Eventually, something like calm washed over him (though, chances were that it was as much numbness and exhaustion as anything).
When Garrus asked his question, Lyle was jarred from his blank staring and blinked. Future tense. Would he be alright? Well, yeah... eventually. Lyle simply nodded before looking over at Samus to see what her answer to the general question was.
And then, it clicked. She was free and she was fine (physically; emotionally and mentally was debatable for all of them) and wasn't that what he was after during this whole fiasco? In spite of himself, Lyle found the corners of his mouth turning up in a tiny, relieved smile that, despite being weak, was genuine.
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But that small smile made all of the difference. Suddenly it felt as if, for the first time since the battle had ended, everything was truly over. She crouched down, the metal of her suit loud in the otherwise quiet hallway, next to Lyle, resting her helmet next to his so that her hand was free once more, and managed a very faint, exhausted smile of her own, just long enough for Lyle to see, before turning her head to face Garrus at last.
"I don't know," she confessed. "But we'll manage." After all, that's what people like them - all three of them - did: they faced horrific challenges head on, and then picked up the pieces and moved on. It was really all that any of them could do.
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She had sat next to him, maintaining contact; aligning her thigh next to his, slipping her arm around his back and gripping his shoulder hard with her hand...
Well... not anymore, thanks to his damn reflection. And this place. He didn't know how he was even going to start fixing all those bridges, as the saying went. But... he had to try.
He did stop when Aran spoke up. But didn't look back. He knew what he'd see. "All right," he said, cutting himself off before things got too ridiculously melodramatic in his head. "I'll... be around. You know... where."
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