He held the gun steady as ever, finger twitching on the trigger as he eyed the batarian grovelling in the dirt and begging for his life. When did his life come to this, he wondered, a combination of cheap hits on pitiful targets and nights spent in grubby bars smelling of rough alcohol and sex. He didn't even have a home to call his own these days, squatting in abandoned hovels in the lowest parts of Omega with wannabe mercenaries and petty thieves. A far cry from his days in the Blue Suns, when he had both power and infamy. He had been young, handsome, cocky. Thought he had it all worked out, had felt untouchable. Women had wanted him, men had wanted to be him. So quickly it had all soured, he sighed. He had never imagined his life turning out the way it had.

Sure, people still feared him. But did they respect him the way they used to? He didn't think so. On bad days, he wondered if even the fear was a by-product of the way he looked, rather than his actions.

He narrowed his eyes at his target, lined up a shot dead between the creature's four eyes.

"Zaeed Massani, I presume."

He looked up, started in surprise and lowered his rifle. Took a deep breath to calm his suddenly-hammering heart.

"You presume right. Seems you need no introducing, Shepard," he said, thinking to himself that she looked different from the vids. Taller, stronger, more vital. Like she glowed.

Commander Shepard walked right up to him, her hand extended. He shook it firmly and met her eyes with an intense gaze, trying to convey that he was more than just a second-rate bounty hunter. That he was a soldier too, maybe not her equal but worthy nonetheless.

"You've been recommended to me by the Illusive bastard," she said, and grinned - her whole face lighting up for a moment. "That doesn't mean a whole lot to me, I gotta be honest with you, but things as they are at the moment, I'll take who I can get. You with me?"

Zaeed raised his rifle, shot the batarian once through the head – a clean shot, he was pleased to note – and nodded. "For the credits I'm being paid, I'm with you. On one condition."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, clearly unused to bargaining with piece-of-trash mercenaries. "Spit it out, Massani."

"Got a little mission of my own I need to finish off. You help me with that, I help you be a big goddamn hero and save the galaxy. Reckon that's a fair deal," he said.

Shepard chuckled. "Deal. The Normandy's docked up back along," and she pointed back down the corridor from where she had come. "Go make yourself at home. I'll catch up with you later."

With that, she left – on a mission of her own, no doubt, followed by a burly marine type and a woman in the tightest catsuit he thought he had ever seen. He shook his head wonderingly, trying to work out why anyone would wear such a thing in a combat situation. More suited to Afterlife, he thought, the sort of broad he might offer some credits to for a fumble in a dark corner after he had consumed his weight in liqueur. Not like Shepard… he shook his head as he recalled the way she had looked him directly in the eye without flinching. Unlike catsuit woman, she wore no make-up and her dark blonde hair was scraped back in an unflattering bun. The armour she wore was solid, shapeless and practical. Goddamn, though, there was no doubt she was quite some woman.


It turned out that Shepard was actually interested in hearing his stories, too. She told him how she liked to get to know her crew, and would often perch on a crate in his makeshift quarters after a mission for a quick debrief and a chat. She did this with everyone, he knew, but he couldn't seem to stop the buzz of excitement which coursed through him every time his door slid open and she stepped through it. Inwardly, he cursed himself for his idiotic reactions, for his enthusiasm for their talks and for his unusual willingness to spin her tales from his past. It had just been such a long time since anyone had wanted to talk to him at all, let alone such an impressive and interesting soldier… and a beautiful woman, he couldn't deny that. He hadn't spent any serious time getting to know a woman in this way since before Vido's betrayal.

And that was twenty years ago.

Christ, no wonder he felt so out of his comfort zone when she was around, even knowing that she would never be interested in him as more than a colleague – God knew, he was fifteen years her senior and looked old enough to be her father. And then there was the small matter of his face.

Two decades on from the gunshot, and Zaeed still couldn't look at himself in a mirror. Lucky he was more of a fighter than a lover, he thought, with a face only a mother could love. Fat chance of even that from his ma, the bitch was eight years in her grave now and he hadn't even gone to her funeral. He was on his own, as he had been for the last twenty years, and that was the way he liked it.

So why was he responding to Shepard's friendly overtures, he wondered, why was he so eager to spend time with her and to talk about things he thought were long buried in his past. Nothing good could come of it. Even if it didn't always feel that way. When she was sitting there with him, her long legs swinging against that crate, he actually felt… happy. As if the coldness in the pit of his stomach was melting and flowing like fresh spring water through his veins. It was the way she focused on him so intently, he thought, as if he was the only person in the galaxy, as if the stupid story he was telling was the most interesting tale she had ever heard. She made him feel important, and nobody had done that for… hell, had they ever?

Goddamn, he needed to spend less time with that woman. He really didn't want to feel this way. He was comfortable with his solitude, with his own company. He didn't need this. Didn't need the fucking flicker of hope that she might seek him out more than anyone else, might actually care beyond being a damn good professional. That she might be the first friend he had made in more years than he could count.

The very idea was so ridiculous he laughed out loud, bitter and sharp. "Fucking hell, Massani, four months on board this ship and you're turning into a delusional motherfucking asshole."

"Talking to yourself, Zaeed?"

Shepard must have slipped through the door without him noticing, light on her feet for such a tall woman. He flushed slightly, wondering what she had heard, then decided to ignore her comment.

"Shepard. Something I can help you with?"

"So formal," she laughed, teeth white in her tanned face. "Nah, it's more something I can help you with. Got some time on the way to Korlus, thought we could detour out to Zorya for that mission you wanted to finish up."

Zaeed's heart thumped hard. This could be it, the moment he had waited for for so many years. He felt the adrenaline start to zip through his veins. "Thank you, Shepard. Appreciate it."

"EDI, how long to Zorya?"

"Approximately five hours, Commander." EDI's disembodied voice rang through the room.

"Thank you, EDI. Get yourself ready, Massani. I'll meet you on the bridge when we land. Anything else I need to know?"

Zaeed thought there was quite a lot she ought to know, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her, not until they were on the surface. Too much of his past had taught him not to trust anyone, and this was no different. He had to get to Zorya, nothing could stand in his way.

"No, Shepard, it's just as I said. We're reclaiming the refinery from a group of mercs. Should be a straightforward run. See you in a few."

She nodded once, abruptly, and was gone.


The mission had gone to hell. From the moment he set eyes on Vido again his head had started to buzz and he could barely remember anything after that. He remembered Shepard shouting at him – he had never heard her so furious – and the acrid taste of smoke. He knew that he had to get after Vido – the man had ruined his life, he had to make him pay. But Shepard – damn her, she had refused to follow him. Had instead focused on the refinery, on the people inside, and Jack had gone with her. Vido had got away and he had never felt so empty and so full of emotion at the same time.

"Twenty years, Shepard! You have no idea!" His voice was rising to hysterical levels and he knew he was losing control.

"Those were innocent people, Massani. You're totally out of order," Shepard said, her own voice almost dangerously calm. She infuriated him, this was all her fault.

Before he knew it, the gun in his hand was pointing at her. It was as if he was floating outside his own body, his mind a mess of revenge and bitter anger. Someone had to pay for this. He ejected the heat sink and tightened his finger around the trigger.

It all happened so fast after that. The explosion was still ringing in his ears as he swore and cursed and pulled fruitlessly at the steel beam which had collapsed on to him, pinning him to the floor. His rifle had been flung clear and was out of reach. He was entirely at the mercy of the woman he had wanted to kill just seconds earlier.

She was leaning over him, her hair a mess, a smear of soot on her cheek. His eyes widened as she pushed the barrel of her snub-nosed pistol against his forehead.

"You put your own desire for revenge ahead of the mission, Massani. That's unprofessional and unacceptable. I can't have people like that on my ship."

Shepard's face was hard, her gaze flinty. Christ, she was going to do what Vido had failed to do. She was going to kill him. He closed his eyes.

Her voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and harsh like nails on a blackboard. "While you're part of our team, we all work together. You understand?"

He was silent, the impact of her words sinking in. She was going to let him live. All of a sudden, he felt the shame of his behaviour wash over him – his anger being swallowed down, back into the dark spaces within him where it had lived for the last twenty years. Not gone, but under control.

"You have a point. I apologise, Shepard. I… wasn't thinking," he said, his eyes cast down.

He felt the pressure of the steel lift as she slid the beam off his legs and held out her hand to help him up. "You weren't," she said, simply. "But you're still a hell of a soldier, and I need you on my side. Come on. Let's get out of here."

Nobody said another word as the shuttle landed to pick them up.


She didn't come to see him that night, nor the night after. For his part, he shut himself away in the cargo hold where he slept, didn't see a soul for three days until hunger finally drove him out to the mess.

Garrus was sitting at the table in the mess hall, and Zaeed hesitated until the turian nodded at him and indicated that he should sit.

"Zaeed," Garrus said, his expression hard to read as ever. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, well. Didn't seem like I was flavour of the month round here, after that last fuckup."

Garrus laughed, an odd mellifluous sound. "Was pretty bad, I heard. From all accounts, if Shepard didn't respect you so damn much you'd still be lying on that planet now. Count yourself lucky she likes you, huh?"

Zaeed snorted and looked down at the table. "Christ knows why."

"Who knows," Garrus said, his voice serious now. "But I should tell you, if you throw that trust back in her face, it won't be Shepard you have to worry about."

Zaeed met the turian's eyes, saw the light flash in the blue depths. Garrus was one of Shepard's best friends, her one true confidante. Zaeed had no doubt at all that the turian meant every word he said.

"Loud and clear," he said, his voice soft. "I won't let her down again."

"Glad to hear it," Garrus said, pushing his tray to one side and getting to his feet. "Perhaps you need to make sure she hears that."

Zaeed stared after him as he disappeared back into the main battery, his mouth slightly open. The thought of having to speak to Shepard… he didn't know what he could possibly say to her that would make anything better.

He barely had time to think about it, as Shepard swung herself into the chair next to his mere minutes later.

"Massani. Was wondering if you'd sneaked off the ship when we weren't looking."

He grunted. "Just been busy, Shepard."

Shepard laughed at that, her voice light and relaxed. "Busy doing what, Massani? Busy sulking, perhaps?"

Zaeed glared at her, speechless. She smirked back at him, knowing that she had the upper hand.

"Look, Zaeed, I just want you to know there's no reason to avoid me or anyone else. I might not know what it's like to be betrayed like you were, but I do understand how it is to have your entire life pulled out from under you, and to lose part of who you are. I didn't much like having a gun pulled on me by someone I was growing to trust, but I can get over it, if you can," Shepard said, her eyes fixed on him as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Christ, Shepard, I'm fucking awful at apologies but I wouldn't have ever wanted to hurt you back then. I was just so angry, I wasn't thinking straight. Nothing you can say to me could make me feel any worse about it. If the word of some old mercenary means anything, I can promise you it won't happen again. From now on, you can trust me. I've got your back."

She nodded once, her face serious. "Glad to hear it. So, we good?"

Zaeed huffed out a deep breath. "Yeah. We're good."


And they were. They were bloody good together in a firefight, no doubt about it. It was as if she instinctively knew what he was going to do next, where he was going to move. He had never fought alongside anyone like her. Tough, intuitive and ruthless in battle, yet she never lost the spark of energy which made her human. He would look out for her after every enemy had fallen, and had memorised the sight of her covered in blood and dirt, searching for her companions, her smile brilliant white in her grubby face when she saw they were safe and well. She was one in a million alright.

She was visiting him in the cargo hold again, too, resuming their friendly conversations as if nothing bad had happened between them. As if he had never threatened her with a rifle, as if she had never been forced to hold a gun to his head in return. He barely even thought about that any more, and to his complete surprise he found he was thinking about Vido less and less too. He guessed he had more important things to focus on at the moment.

He was oiling his old rifle, his back turned to the door, when he heard it slide open and her familiar voice call out his name.

"Shepard," he acknowledged, without turning round.

"I was wondering if you could help me out here," she said, her voice slightly hesitant.

"Just give me a minute, I just need to get this oil -" he said, turning round and stopping in his tracks when he saw Shepard standing just inside the doorway. His words were entirely lost, he had no idea what he was about to say or do. All he could do was to stand very still and take in the sight before him.

"Okay, close your mouth Massani, you never seen a woman wear a dress before?"

Shepard was indeed wearing a dress, and what a dress it was. It was tight and short, and made of some rich black velveteen fabric which had a wonderful sheen. Her hair was loose – he had never seen her with her hair out of her trademark bun – and he was amazed at how long it was, cascading in golden blonde waves half way down her back. She was wearing make-up – another first – he would never have thought she needed it to make her look beautiful, but the smoky eyeshadow brought out the green of her eyes and she looked…

Well. She looked, quite simply, stunning. He would have had no clue that she had a figure like that hidden under the thick armour she wore in battle, or the baggy hoodies and cargo pants she favoured during down time on the ship. Her legs were long, smooth and tanned, the muscles tight and defined, made feminine by the patent leather heels she was wearing. Her hips flared out beneath a nipped-in waist and – his eyes slid over her body – her breasts were larger than he had imagined, round and full and, fuck, he was staring. It was obvious he was staring.

"Massani? My face is up here, in case you had forgotten."

"Uh, sorry, Shepard. Goddamn. Just, never seen you in anything so, well, formal before. What's the occasion?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Would you believe a mission? Kasumi asked me for some help, just like you did. A personal thing. Said yes, just didn't realise it involved going undercover at some ridiculous dinner party. Jeez. If I'd known, I might've thought twice. I look bloody stupid."

"You look great, Shepard," he said, thinking that was the understatement of the century. She was a goddess. "You needed me for something?"

"Ha. Yeah, this is embarrassing, but I can't get the zipper done right up on this dress. I'd ask Kasumi, given that it's her bloody fault I'm having to wear the thing, but I can't find her anywhere. Would you just give me a hand?" She turned her back to him and pulled her hair to one side.

He swallowed hard. "Sure thing, Shepard. You know me. Gun-for-hire, goddamn tough bastard, personal dresser."

She laughed softly, a sound that travelled straight to his groin as he fumbled with the zipper and fastened the dress, the heat of her body and the scent of her perfume – some sort of exotic spice – giving him thoughts that were entirely inappropriate. He stepped back, flustered and half-hard in his trousers.

"Thanks Zaeed, you're a star. Now, wish me luck. If I manage to get through the evening without breaking an ankle in these stupid shoes, I'll frankly be rather surprised." She winked at him and opened the door to leave.

"Well, good luck Shepard. I doubt you'll need it," he said as she walked awkwardly out of his room, clearly not used to heels. "I fucking do, though," he added under his breath. Of all the absurd situations, developing a crush on the ridiculously beautiful, young and sought-after commanding officer of the Normandy had to be right up there in any list of the most idiotic things he could do.

Even so, he couldn't get the thought of her out of his head that night. Imagining unzipping the dress and peeling it off her shoulders, down to her waist. Picturing what her breasts would look like, how it would feel to weigh them in his hands. Wondering what she would taste like, her skin, her sweat, her velvet softness. Pretending that his hand was her body, that she was moaning his name as he made her come over and over again. She would be hot and tight around him, desperate for him to be deep inside her, to move hard and fast and… fuck.

Zaeed looked around for something to clean up. He felt disgusted that he had allowed himself to get so carried away with a stupid fucking fantasy. This was not for him, not his world. When he had been younger, yeah maybe. But it hadn't been like that for a very long time. Sex for him, now, was mostly quick and mostly paid for, and then only when he was very drunk and could strip down in the darkness of some dingy club or back room. Women generally wouldn't look twice at a fucked-up old bastard like him, except out of pity. He was used to that. And someone like Shepard - well, there wasn't a man in the galaxy who could say he was her equal. She was so far out of his league, it would be like a princess marrying a varren.

He knew he was being stupid, he really did. Even so, he didn't sleep well that night, tormented by thoughts of spicy perfume and black velvet.


Shepard was in the mess hall the next morning, face scrubbed clean of cosmetics and her hair scraped back into its usual bun. She was wearing her favourite baggy hoody and slouchy pants, and it was as if Zaeed had dreamed the night before. He sank into the seat opposite her with a sigh.

"Didn't break any ankles then, Shepard?" he said, smirking.

"Ha. Not mine, at least," she said, grinning back. "I swear I'm never gonna wear those shoes ever again. They gave me blisters. I don't understand why anyone would do that to themselves."

"Don't ask me, Shepard. Can't say I've ever worn heels myself."

There was a silence as they conjured up the same image of Zaeed in stilettos, then they both burst out laughing at the same time.

"Well, now, that's something I would like to see," she said, wheezing slightly with mirth.

"Ain't gonna happen," he said, shaking his head in amusement.

"C'mon Zaeed, there's nothing I can do to persuade you?"

The smile froze on his face for a moment as he noted the flirty tone she seemed to have taken with him. This was not something he was comfortable with, and he shook his head and looked down at the table.

Shepard shrugged. "Ah well, I'll just have to live with the mental image then. Just so you know, in that image you're also wearing a dress."

"Fucking hell, Shepard."

Shepard laughed out loud, a proper belly laugh, and patted him on the shoulder. "Aw, you love me really, Zaeed. Anyway I should go, long day ahead. You up for this Horizon mission? Could be pretty hairy."

"You know me, Shepard. Up for anything, so long as it involves killing stuff," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

"That's what I like to hear. See you later, Zaeed."

She squeezed his shoulder again hard, just once, and left him sitting in the mess hall gazing thoughtfully into his coffee.