Ms. Miranda Lawson was not normally one to ask for advice, nor was she one to ask anything of an alien. Yet, on this one subject, she found herself contemplating both.

She stood before the hatch that led to the gunnery control center, acutely aware of the curious stare of the nameless crewman currently sitting at the mess table. He was nameless because she hadn't thought to identify him, though she knew the files of every being on the ship, a mistake she normally wouldn't have made, which just went to show how much her mental state had been befuddled by what was on her mind.

Miranda's shoulders drooped just a little, her version of a sigh, as she reluctantly decided to go through with it. Not that it had ever really been an issue. She was here now, and if she started something, she always finished it. That, and coming all the way up here, stopping, then going back would just look silly, it might even compromise her authority.

She started to take the step that would trigger the door's motion sensors, but it opened before it should have, and Miranda found herself face-to-chestplate with the scarred visage of Garrus Vakarian. Somewhat startled – again, a misstep she normally wouldn't have made – Miranda took a step backwards as Garrus came to an ungainly halt.

"Ms. Lawson." he said, making the words a greeting and question at the same time.

"Vakarian." She replied, imbuing the name with as much meaning as she could cram into four syllables - which, admittedly, was not much. Garrus, as far as she could read turian facial cues, seemed confused, with a fair amount of caution thrown in. "Do you have a minute? I need to ask you something."

The turian hesitated for a mere moment before speaking. "Sure. I was just on my way to grab something to eat. Your chef knows less about turian meals than he does human, so it can wait." He turned around and walked back towards the console on the far wall. "So, what do you want to know?" He asked as he leaned back, uncomfortably close to the launch trigger for the disruptor racks. Ignoring this as best she could, Miranda stepped inside, and cursed her jumpiness when the door closed.

Damn it, I'm not used to this.

Garrus, either disregarding or just not seeing her unusual anxiety, patiently wait for her to start talking. Miranda suddenly found herself at a loss for words, all the different renditions of this conversation that she had planned out beforehand suddenly evaporated. To her own surprise, she found herself just coming out with it point blank.

"Well, you know, of all of us, you've known Commander Shepard the longest, except for Joker and Doctor Chakwas. So, I figured that you would be the one to ask."

Whatever Garrus had been expecting, he probably hadn't thought it would be about John Shepard. "I'm not sure what you mean" he said, clearly a little confused. "What do I know that Joker or the Doctor couldn't tell you?"

"This isn't about his record or his achievements" She said. "I can look at those whenever I want. This is a little more personal. As for someone else, Doctor Chakwas just drank half a bottle of brandy, so she's in no shape to have a serious discussion, and Joker is, well,…"

"Joker" finished Garrus. "Got it. But again, what can I tell you about him that you don't already know?"

Miranda took a few breaths, collecting her thoughts, then she pressed on. "Shepard has accomplished a great many things during his career, more than most, more than almost anyone, frankly." Miranda absently started pacing. "But I don't see how he's managed to do it. I look at his skills, talents, and I don't see anything truly exceptional. He's not a biotic, or genetically engineered. In the field, he's useless with anything not related to his rifle." She stopped her pacing, then gestured at Garrus. "I've seen both of you in action, he's good, but you're an even better shot than he is. He's a good tactician, but I've seen him make mistakes I wouldn't have."

Garrus was silent, his face unreadable as Miranda started pacing again. "Shepard is a leader, a natural, but I've seen people who could work a crowd into a frenzy with a lot less effort. And yet," She said, coming to a halt. "And yet I cant see anyone else going through what we have and pulling it off. You couldn't do it, Jacob couldn't do it, I certainly couldn't do it. Why? What makes him so special?" She asked, feeling just a little frustrated, and turning away.

"Luck?" Said Garrus.

"What?" Miranda said in surprise.

"Luck. As in he routinely beats the odds without explainable reason. I mean, look at our hunt for Saren. He was always in the right place at the right time, if he had reached certain places a few minutes later, or talked to the wrong people, or just taken a bad step, it all would have been over." Garrus had gone from a slouch back up to a ramrod-straight, military-style stance. "More recently, he was killed when the Normandy was destroyed, but you brought him back." He shrugged. "Of course, getting killed in the first place might counterbalance being brought back. On the upside though, he didn't have to live through these last two years."

"So, that's it, you think?" Miranda asked, a little hesitantly. "Just luck, dumb luck?"

"Maybe. But truthfully, I don't think so." As far as she could read his face, the turian looked very thoughtful. "I don't know what it is about him that makes him so unique. You're right that he isn't the best at any one thing, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone who could match him in all those categories." Garrus stopped, and suddenly spitted her with a piercing stare. "But," he continued slowly. "It's not just his abilities. I have an idea, a very hazy image, of what it is, exactly."

"You mind sharing?" Asked Miranda, as she tried to resume a more business-as-usual posture.

"You ever see Shepard do something you could describe as morally questionable?" Garrus said.

"No." Miranda answered simply. It had been a source of significant frustration early on, she had believed Shepard to be merely unwilling to make the hard choices, now she was not quite so sure.

"Me neither" said Garrus. "I've seen Shepard get angry a lot of times, but I've only seen him act on that once. I certainly couldn't disagree at the time. In all my experiences, I've never seen anyone, human, turian, asari, salarian, or anyone from any other race you pick, who was able to retain their morals in the worst kind of circumstances. It's been a little frustrating occasionally, but the more I see it, the more I realize that it is a source of strength." As he talked, Miranda peripherally noted that he was now the one pacing while she stood still.

"If Shepard decides that something needs to be done, or needs to be prevented, because it's the right thing to do, then no force I've ever seen can stop him. It doesn't make a whole lot a sense, but he has reserves that the rest of us don't have and can't see. Reserves that he can draw upon if he is protecting someone, or something. Reserves that allow him to take on enemies so much stronger than he is, if he knows that he needs to defeat them." Suddenly, Garrus stopped, and suddenly looked abashed. "Or maybe I'm just blathering on like an idiot. I don't know. All I know is that I've never known anyone like Shepard before, and never will again. And… that's about all I have to say about it." He finished somewhat lamely.

Miranda just stood, barely noticing the turian staring at her curiously. "So… Why do you ask?" he said inquiringly. She looked up.

"Well, you've been honest with me, I suppose you deserve a straight answer. I spent the last two years of my life putting Shepard back together, but I never stopped to wonder just who I was resurrecting. The more I know about him, the more I'm intrigued, and the more I want to know." She shrugged. "I suppose it's an obsession."

"And I suppose it has nothing to do with you wanting to drag him to bed one of these days?"

"WHAT!?" She all but yelled, completely missing the teasing undertone of Garrus's words.

"I'm sorry!" Garrus said hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I was just joking. I understand, the Commander isn't your type, though I imagine that most human women would be very happy to have him."

Calming down slightly, Miranda tried to regain her composure. She needn't have bothered, Garrus looked so worried that he had offended her that he didn't consider that he might have hit closer to the mark than he realized. As soon as she was reasonably certain that she could open her mouth without shouting, she spoke. "Apology accepted, though you might want to learn a bit more about the human sense of humor before you try another one." With that, Miranda said farewell to Garrus, and stiffly walked out of gunnery control. She completely ignored the crewman at the mess table, who was staring after her with even more curiosity than usual.

Soon enough, Miranda was secure in the safety of her quarters. Sitting at her desk, hands on the keypad, eyes fixed to the screen, she appeared to be simply reviewing reports, as per her usual custom. She didn't really see the computer though, instead, she was thinking about what Garrus had said. She tried to think about his opinion of why Shepard was Shepard, but she kept flicking back to that last remark. She kept trying to banish it from her thoughts, but it had too much truth in it to ignore. So she sat, fuming.

Damn turian.