Justice
Shepard and Joker walked hand in hand, weaving their way through the crowded streets of Zakera Ward.
"So, how old do you think she's going to be?" Shepard wondered aloud, shifting her body to absorb the impact as a threesome of rowdy teenagers shoved past them. A collision that might merely jostle the average person could easily cause a serious injury for Joker. Still, her protective instinct was reflexive and neither of them consciously noticed it.
"I have no idea," Joker replied. They were on their way to a birthday party that Kasumi was throwing for herself. The invitation had been worded less as a suggestion than a demand - not that either of them would ever have dreamed of turning her down. It was impossible to say no to the mischievous, yet charmingly endearing, thief. "Twenty? One hundred and twenty? Who can tell from under that hood?"
"Hmm...maybe I should get one of those hoods."
Joker squeezed her hand. "Not necessary. You'll still be beautiful at five hundred and twenty."
Shepard grinned, unduly pleased by the compliment. This thing with her and Jeff was still fairly new, but it had been going well. Very well. She'd been taking a lot of shit from her squad lately about walking around like a love-struck idiot, and she'd absorbed it without complaint. She knew how she'd been acting, and she didn't give a fuck. She was the happiest she'd been in a long time. Maybe the happiest she'd been, ever. That was worth some good-natured teasing, in her book.
They were approaching the entrance to the club when she heard someone call her name. Instantly wary, she tensed as her eyes quickly scanned her surroundings. A human male materialized from the shadows to the left of the door and approached them, casually.
"Do I know you?" she asked. He didn't look familiar.
"Well, now, that hurts my feelings. The infamous Commander Shepard doesn't remember me. My name's Finch. We ran together in the Tenth Street Reds. But you probably don't spend much time thinking about the good old days anymore."
Shepard glanced quickly at Jeff, who was observing the interaction curiously. Her past wasn't a secret, but she didn't like being reminded of it - especially not in front of him. She wasn't proud of the person she'd been back then. When she replied, the menace in her tone was unmistakable. "What do you want, Finch? Or should I be asking, 'What does Darrell want?'"
"We're not here to cause you any trouble. We just have a favor to ask...figure you owe us one after what you did to us. One of our guys got picked up by the turians. We need your help to get him cut loose."
"Not interested," she retorted. She was about to turn away when Finch leered, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" The smirk instantly fell from his face as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pressed his back against the wall, his feet dangling inches above the ground. Cybernetically-enhanced muscles did have their advantages.
"I think you'd better be going now," she told the gangster with a threatening snarl.
"Sure, Shepard," Finch said, throwing up his hands in a gesture of surrender. She gave him an extra shove for good measure as she released him. "Just don't forget who your old friends are," he said, as he sidled past her. "'Cause it'd be a shame if something bad happened to your new friends," he added, cutting his eyes meaningfully to Joker before swiftly melting into the heavy pedestrian traffic.
"Nice guy," Joker remarked. He seemed far less perturbed by the encounter than she had been. Then again, seeing her involved in altercations was nothing new for him. Tamping down her irritation, she pressed a palm between his shoulders to steer him toward the bar.
"Screw him. C'mon, I'll buy you a beer."
Shepard managed to manufacture a fake smile as they greeted their friends and had drinks pressed into their hands. Apparently, Miranda had opened a tab with Cerberus' credit chit (would wonders never cease?) and the crew was cheerfully getting plastered. Shepard was quickly dragged from Jeff's side and out onto the dance floor by Kelly and Kasumi. When her eyes sought his through the writhing mass of overheated bodies, his responding smile caused a knot of dread to form in her gut rather than the usual giddy flutter of anticipation.
No matter how she tried, she couldn't put the incident with Finch out of her mind. His parting shot was likely an empty threat, but she couldn't afford to take that chance. She knew that Joker was a soldier, but he wasn't often armed, and he wouldn't prevail in hand-to-hand combat. The Reds were not known for seeing reason, nor playing fair. If they targeted him, it would be her fault.
It wasn't a possibility that she could accept.
As she turned it over in her head, she could see only one solution.
As soon as she was able to sneak away, she sidled through the packed room and perched on a barstool next to Garrus. "Do you still have contacts in C-Sec?"
He turned coolly appraising eyes her way. "Of course."
"I need to know the whereabouts of a two-bit hood who's staying on the Citadel."
"Should be easy enough."
"I need to know now."
"Now?" His mandibles twitched incredulously, but after a quick glance at the determined expression on her face, he said, "Give me the name."
He exited the club, and ten minutes later, her omni-tool pinged. She opened the message, swallowed the rest of her drink, and searched the room for Thane. She spotted him lurking in a dark corner, dispassionately observing the proceedings, and she hurriedly crossed to him.
Mimicking his vigilant posture, with her shoulder brushing his but her body angled away, she raised her voice to be heard over the music. "Garrus and I have an errand to run. If I'm not back by the time the party ends, make sure Joker gets back to the Normandy safely. You see anyone suspicious, take them down by whatever means necessary."
His coal-black eyes continued to play over the crowd, but from the corner of her eye she caught the slight inclination of his head that indicated acknowledgment. This was one of Thane's finest qualities - the ability to take orders without asking inconvenient questions. She placed a grateful hand on his leather-clad arm before turning and walking away.
Arranging her expression into what she hoped resembled a playful grin, she sashayed up to the high-top table where Jeff was seated with Donnelly and Collins. "Sorry, boys - I'm gonna have to steal this sexy guy away from you for a minute," she announced, taking the pilot's hand in hers. The other two men exchanged a knowing smirk as Jeff shrugged with exaggerated helplessness and slid off his seat to trail after her.
Once they were out of earshot, he leaned in and said, "Thank you for saving me. I don't think I could have taken even five more minutes on the merits of soccer versus football. I was contemplating flinging myself off my stool and intentionally breaking a bone just to escape."
"No problem. But listen - I have to take off for a little bit."
"What? Now?"
"Yeah. There's something I need to take care of. I shouldn't be gone too long, but if I don't make it back before the party's over, I'll see you back on the ship, okay?"
She willed herself to meet his gaze as his eyes searched her face. Joker was smart, and he knew her well. He would be able to put the change of plans together with the odd encounter earlier in the evening and surmise that something was amiss. But suspecting wasn't knowing - and the less he knew, the better. She silently pleaded with him not to ask too many questions.
She didn't want to be forced to lie.
He surprised her by sliding a hand around to cup the back of her neck, pulling her face close to his. "Are you going alone?" he murmured into her ear, his breath ruffling her hair.
"No. Garrus is coming with me."
He nodded, once. "Be careful."
He kissed her, and as she returned the gesture, her resolve hardened. She knew his lack of suspicion was due to the fact that he trusted her, completely; believed her to be a better person than she was, always. She wanted so badly to be that person and worthy of his faith. She wished that she could explain to him how much he meant to her - that there wasn't any sacrifice that she wouldn't make for him - but it wasn't the time or place, and she wasn't good with words, anyway.
As always, she would have to rely on her actions to say what she couldn't. Whether he was aware of them or not.
When the kiss ended, she gave him a reassuring smile and gently extricated her hand from his grasp as she turned to go.
Garrus was waiting outside the club, leaning casually against the wall, eyes focused on nothing but seeing everything. She gave a curt nod and he pushed himself upright. Without a word, they disappeared into the late-night throng.
Thirty minutes later, they were at their destination. She verified the address against the information from Garrus' contact. Hotel Abelux, Zakera 202. Luckily, it was a cheap motel in a rundown part of the ward full of drug addicts and petty criminals. When C-Sec came around asking questions - assuming that they bothered - no one would be able, or willing, to tell them anything.
A quick glance up and down the block confirmed that no one had noted their arrival. Tilting her head to indicate that Garrus should stand watch, Shepard slid soundlessly up the stairs, blending seamlessly into the shadows along the wall of the second level corridor. They had stopped by the Normandy before coming here, and she was now dressed head to toe in anonymous black, including the cap perched backwards on her head, concealing her upswept hair. She couldn't disappear like Kasumi, or move with Thane's astounding agility, but she was capable of a reasonable amount of stealth and grace when the job required it.
Most of the rooms were dark - either unbooked, or currently unoccupied. 202 was at the far end of the row. Pausing in front of the door, she focused her enhanced hearing on detecting noises from within, but heard nothing. She could hear a news program coming from another room, and the muted sounds of a couple having sex, but she quickly tuned it out. She was still learning how to filter the extraordinary amount of additional sensory input her upgrades provided, but right now, she couldn't afford any distractions.
She knew from the schematic she'd studied earlier that the door opened onto a short hallway which, in turn, led to a bedroom. It wasn't much of a buffer, but she hoped it would be enough. She waved her omni-tool over the single exterior security light, shorting it out, and then aimed it at the electronic lock. The high-tech (and highly illegal) lockpicking program beeped twice, softly, and the door slid open. Reaching into her jacket with a gloved hand, she removed an unregistered, untraceable pistol that she'd had since her days on Earth. Releasing the safety and quietly chambering a round, she slipped into the room as the door drifted shut behind her.
Her vision quickly adapted to the gloom as she traversed the entryway, allowing her to avoid the food wrappers and alcohol bottles littering the floor. After taking only a few steps, she was able to hear the soft rasp of her target's steady breathing. She crept closer to the mattress, but the indistinct form was buried under the covers, its face turned away, making it impossible to discern any distinguishing features. She would have to wake him up to make sure that she had the right room, but that was all right. Unlike most of her kills, this was personal. She wanted her victim to appreciate his fatal error before he died. She passed her hand in front of the sensor for the bedside lamp.
Finch awoke with a start, rolling onto his back. Cold green eyes stared down at him from above the barrel of the handgun. "Shepard? What the hell?"
"You shouldn't have threatened my friends," she said evenly, before yanking the pillow from beneath his head, placing it over his face, and gently squeezing the pistol's trigger. The cushion served the dual purpose of muting the sound of the gunshot and keeping any blood spray off of her clothes. She left the pillow where it was and dropped the gun on top of it. She had no desire to make the scene look like a suicide, or a burglary, or anything other than what it was - an assassination. Considering Finch's associates, there would be no shortage of suspects. She thought about leaving some kind of cryptic message for Darrell, but deemed it unnecessary. Assuming he'd sent Finch (and she was almost positive he had,) he would understand perfectly who had killed him, and why.
She had almost reached the hallway when a soft ping erupted from somewhere deeper within the room. Glancing around, she spotted a datapad lying on the dresser. Curious, she crossed to it and glanced at the glowing screen. The alert had been signalling a response to a message Finch had sent earlier in the evening.
F: Made contact with the target tonight. She was uncooperative and hostile, but she was holding hands with some guy. I improvised, and implied that we would use him to get to her, if necessary.
Apparently, Darrell had only now gotten around to reading his messages.
D: You idiot! Who authorized you to 'improvise?' Threatening her career might have earned her cooperation. Threatening her friends will just piss her off. I hope you're watching your back.
Shepard read the reply with a sneer. Picking up the pad, she typed:
F: Looks like you still remember a thing or two about me after all these years. That's almost flattering. Unfortunately for F, your warning arrived too late to save his life. You want me, D, you know where to find me. But threaten my people again, and I'll find you. And trust me when I say, you won't ever see me coming. - S
Without waiting for a response, she dropped the pad onto the dresser, crossed the room with swift, determined strides, and silently slipped out the door.
Joker was waiting for her in her quarters.
"There you are," he said, with a welcoming smile. He was lying on the couch in pajama bottoms, shirtless, watching a vid. "Did everything go okay?"
"Fine," she replied in a tone that didn't encourage additional inquiries. "Did you enjoy the rest of the party?"
He shrugged. "It was okay, I guess. Until Thane insisted on walking me home. Then it turned into a surreal, bad date kind of thing."
Shepard kicked off her boots. "I think I'm jealous." She crossed to the sofa and stretched out next to him, absorbing his solid, comfortable warmth. "He didn't try to kiss you goodnight, did he?"
"Nah, we just held hands for a while. They were kinda scaly, to be honest." He kissed her, then frowned. "Hey, weren't you wearing something different earlier?"
Damn Joker and his powers of observation. She'd thrown the hat in one dumpster and the gloves in another, although she hadn't seen any traces of blood on them. She'd left them in plain view, hoping that someone might scavenge them and drag them even further from the crime scene, contaminating them in the process. All that remained were her boots, jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. The only item that differed from what she'd worn to the club was the shirt - but, of course, he'd noticed.
"Yeah, I spilled something on my shirt. I had to come back and change."
"Before you went to take care of some things," Joker stated. It wasn't a question.
"Right." Shepard knew that Joker had gotten a good look at Finch tonight. If he ended up hearing about his death on the news, it might raise some questions. But she was banking on two things - one, that the murder of a thug like Finch would not be newsworthy; and two, that even if Joker did hear about it, he wouldn't delve too deeply. Hopefully, he would put two and two together, and come up with better not to ask.
"Well, I'm glad you made it back safely." He paused, then said, "Lot of drunk idiots out there."
"Yeah. I'm glad you made it back in one piece, too."
"Well, with a drell assassin for a bodyguard, how could I not?" The sentient sarcasm in his tone alerted her, and suddenly, she realized that she hadn't fooled him in the slightest. He knew she'd been up to something questionable and that she'd tasked Thane with shadowing him. She braced herself for more, but all he said was, "Ready for bed?"
She leaned in for another kiss, resting a hand on his bare chest. His heartbeat pulsed beneath her palm - strong, steady, reassuring. "I'll be right there."
Shepard was emerging from the bathroom when her terminal blipped, signalling she had an incoming message. The sender was anonymous.
F got what he deserved. But you and I still have unfinished business.
For a moment, her narrowed green eyes merely stared at the screen before she leaned over and typed:
Just give the word, and I'll be happy to finish it.
She turned off her terminal and crossed to the bed, sliding beneath the sheets. Jeff was lying on his back, already dozing, and she rested her head on his chest as his arm curled reflexively around her shoulder. Suddenly, she recalled the first night they'd spent together, when she'd been reluctant to assume this same pose.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You worry too much, Shepard."
"I always look out for you, Joker. You know that."
She briefly wondered if residual guilt about committing a calculated, cold-blooded murder would keep her awake, but within minutes, Jeff's breathing was deep and even, and she quickly followed him into a dreamless slumber.