A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

She really hasn't changed a bit since the last time I saw her. Still has the splash of freckles covering her cheeks and face. Still has that strawberry brown hair tied into a bun like any good Alliance girl. Still has those shining blue eyes, and the look of someone who gets shit done. She still looks like the Lioness of Elysium. She still looks like my sister.

But the scars on her face are new. They're fading, but in the proper lighting it looks like they're glowing. It's unsettling. And her skin is still somewhat pale, like a permanent shut-in who's only just recently decided to go out and see the sun with their own eyes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was a recently-resurrected zombie of sorts. But she's still there. I see her shoulders rising and falling with every breath. She's alive.

And I have to remind myself to stay cool. I'm glad that I'm wearing the helmet and mask. It's good to know that I can stare at her all bug-eyed and she won't notice.

She's conversing privately with the woman and the mercenary. They're looking around, sizing up the group of people in the room. I can feel the smug superiority radiating off of the woman and mercenary; clearly they think that they are the baddest in the room. Well, if you disqualify my sister, that is. She's probably got them both beat.

I see that Sis and the woman are interested in getting some provisions from the impromptu quartermaster over by the sign-in guy, leaving the mercenary by himself. He shakes his head, muttering something that I can't hear, and then starts walking.

Right in my general direction.

He leans against the wall right next to me, sighing somewhat dramatically as he crosses his arms over his chest. And then he speaks.

"You don't look like one of these louses. What the bloody hell are you doin' here?"

He's got an old and grizzled voice, just like I expected.

I shrug.

"Figured this might be the biggest excitement in town."

He turns to look at me, his good eyebrow raised.

"Yeah? Running into a goddamn meat grinder is your idea of fun?"

I turn to look at him.

"No. But watching Batarians is."

He lets out a stunned outburst of wheezy laughter, nearly doubling over at the thought of it. Regaining his composure, he wipes a tear from his eye.

"Oh, you I like!" He growled, about as friendly as he could get with that voice. He extends his hand towards me. "Zaeed Massani. Gun-for-hire and the best damn hunter in the galaxy. Who are you, princess?"

"Doc Halladay." I say, shaking his hand firmly.

He snorts.

"Right, and I'm Wyatt Earp."

I blink, my expression blank with confusion. He lowers his voice, so others don't hear him.

"I'm not one of these stupid assholes, kid. I know that ain't your real name. I also know that ain't your real voice. I can recognize a shitty voice modulator program. What, is that from an old iDroid program or something?"

Stunned, but not showing it through my mask, I wordlessly show him the device. He whistles.

"Damn." He said quietly. "I remember when those things still had a future. Why don't you just buy a bloody omnitool like the rest of us, you goddamn Luddite?"

"In my opinion, you can't beat the classics." I shrug. He smiles.

"Damn straight. That's why I'm still here." He clears his throat. "So, uh, Doc Halladay, are you really out here to kill Archangel?"

"No, I had plans to infiltrate the ranks of these freelancers, shoot a couple of them in the back of the head, and then rescue Archangel before anyone figures out what's up."

Zaeed lowers his voice some more.

"You know, I'd be laughing at you if the lady over there didn't suggest the same damned thing. Great minds think alike, I suppose." He raised an eyebrow. "Ever heard that old saw 'the enemy of my enemy' and some such?"

"What?" I asked, confused. "You suggesting that I come with you?"

"We could always use another gun." Zaeed said.

"How do you know I'm worth anything?" I ask.

"Because of the way you carry yourself." He said. "Clearly former military, either Alliance or PMF. All these jokers have a basic assault rifle and shitty armor; you're dressed like a goddamn space cowboy." He gestured to the duster I was wearing. "I am bloody envious of that thing, by the way. Don't think I could pull it off." He cleared his throat and continued. "You clearly have a style, which means that you've been in firefights before and you know how to survive them. Now, I don't know much, but I know that someone who has a distinguishable style in the battlefield is a damn sight more useful to a cause than the cannon fodder these bastards will be."

"You make a good argument." I mutter. "Too bad she wasn't around to hear it."

"I wasn't around to hear what now?"

My blood runs cold at the sound of my sister's voice. She's clearly made her way over to us, dragging that woman with her. She folds her arms across her chest, and stares at Massani with a motherly look.

"Zaeed, are you busy pumping this merc's head with horror stories?"

"Horror stories? Me?" Zaeed makes an offended huffing noise. "I would never! I'd just tell him the bloody truth and he'd shit himself."

"Not helping." Sis said, her eyes narrowing. She turns to look at me, and my stomach drops into my toes. "And who are you, sunshine?"

Sunshine. She used to call me that all the time whenever I was acting grumpy. She has no idea. She has no earthly idea, does she?

"Call me Doc." I finally say. She raises an eyebrow.

"I take it that that's a pseudonym?" She asked. "What exactly are you running from?"

You have no idea, Sis.

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in not letting these bastards around me find out who I really am." I said. "Especially when my vested interest is in screwing them all over."

"Really?" Sis asked, skepticism remaining. "That wouldn't involve double-crossing them and then rescuing Archangel now, would it?"

"Yeah."

I was never one for lying.

She chuckles.

"Well imagine that, Doc. Seems like we have a mutual goal here."

"Shepard, don't trust this one." The woman said. She was staring at me with barely-concealed contempt. It was both intimidating and really, really hot all at the same time.

Head out of the gutter.

"Miranda, I haven't even gotten into that yet." Sis said. She turns back to me. "Well, seeing as how you and I have a little mutual agreement, perhaps we can work a deal. Interested?"

"What are your terms?" I ask. She shrugs.

"You tell me what you know about Archangel, and in return I won't turn you in to the authorities after this is all said and done." She said.

"How do you know that I know anything about Archangel?" I ask. She glares at me.

"Because you don't want him dead. Clearly that means that he's done something for you, and you don't want him to die because of this." She said. "Now, I know it's not asking for much, but I'm appealing to your better nature here. What can you tell me about Archangel?"

"He's Turian, that much I know." I began. "Came here to Omega…I wanna say a few months ago. Been upsetting the apple cart ever since." She raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't cutting into the three major merc groups in Omega be a good thing?"

"Only if you're a fan of the devil you don't know in comparison to the devil that you do know." I said. I'm glad that the voice modifier covered for me, because the more I talked to my sister the more I realized that little to nothing had changed between us: despite being…well, either dead or something else, Janey was still as hopelessly idealistic as ever. And we always had arguments like this, though never truly shouting at each other. Relentlessly butting heads, on the other hand, was a bit more our style.

She frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked. "Are you saying that the mercenaries are good for Omega?"

"I'm saying I don't trust the alternative to be any better. And I'm afraid that Archangel's just going to piss them off, and before you know it they're all gonna start being a little cagier towards their constituents, a little more aggressive about their extortion."

"What a relentlessly depressing way to look at things." She said.

"That's just the way I think, Sister."

Shit.

Her eyes narrow, and she stares at me with a degree of suspicion. Even Miranda and Zaeed look a little confused. I verbally backspace.

"…Sorry. One of my biggest flaws is being a little too flippant with people that could blow my head off with that really, really big grenade launcher they have strapped on their back." I gesture to the piece on Jane's armor. "Nice one, by the way."

She nods, and apparently is willing to let the near-slip pass. She clears her throat.

"Well, Doc, seeing as how you're the only one here that hasn't either given me the stinkeye or tried to lie to me…I'm hoping that you and I don't cross paths in the future." She turns around. "Come on guys, let's get going."

"Wait."

The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. There was a small part of me that would have been okay with her just walking away, having never known who I was or how close she came to seeing me again. And to be fair, that small part of me wasn't actually so small after all. But then there was another part of me that seemed to scream that this would be the only chance I get again in this lifetime. And I don't know what happens in the next one, but I wasn't about to let this pass me up.

"I, uh, know Archangel. If I go with you, I can get him to stand down while you talk sense to him." I offer lamely. "It's not a good shot, but at least I'll be the first to die so that you can get him and talk some sense into him."

She stares at me suspiciously.

"What's the catch?" She asks.

"Some credits, I guess." I say lamely. "Might be able to afford a real omnitool instead of this old thing." I hold up my iDroid. "And then I'll be on my way."

There's a silence. She scratches her chin in thought.

"Commander, you cannot be seriously considering this deal." Miranda said, her expression a cross between shock and revulsion. "We don't even know who this 'Doc Halladay' is. For all we know, he's a plant for the-"

"Miranda, lighten up." Sis said, a little too quickly. It seemed like Miranda was about to say something that maybe she wasn't supposed to, and Sis cut her off at the pass. Both intriguing and troublesome at the same time. Sis was always terrible at lying and keeping secrets, but she was usually pretty discreet about it. So for her to go and cut someone off like that…something big must be brewing.

"What kind of skills do you have?" Sis asked. I cleared my throat.

"Just another gun, I suppose." I say. When I see her interest waning, I decide to be a little bit more honest. "Also good with explosives, and the best damn pistolier you've met."

"I haven't met many pistoliers." Sis said, a smirk gracing her lips. I scowl, though she can't see it.

"Still better than them, though." I grunt.

"Careful Shepard, you might have hurt Doc's feelings here." Miranda said, a smug look creeping on her face. I just stare at her, but don't say anything. What do you say to the truth?

"Well, we might need knowledge of explosives if we are gonna get Archangel out of there." Shepard said. "So for now, Doc Halladay, welcome to my team. Hope this is a decision that we don't regret."

"Same here, Commander." I say, struggling not to betray the shakiness in my voice.

…

A Batarian takes the four of us in a regulation skycar towards the bottom reaches of the station. If Omega looks like a jellyfish of sorts, then the location where Archangel was holed up was near the bottom tip of what would be the stingers. I suppose there's something poetic about him being stuck in the almost-literal ass end of the galaxy, though I doubt he'd appreciate the irony. I'm sitting next to Zaeed, with Miranda adjacent to me and Sis right across from me. She's got her arms across her chest, and she's regarding me with some degree of suspicion. I realize I'm sweating.

"How come you don't take that thing off?" She asks me.

"I'm ugly." I say. Zaeed barks out a laugh.

"Please! I got shot in the bloody face and you don't see me wearing no goddamned mask." He grins. It's like looking at the face of a shark.

"Just respect this choice of mine. I'm already putting myself on the line by helping you." I say, somewhat testily. Sis nods passively.

"Fair enough. But at the very least try to make sure all that hair doesn't fall down in front of your mask's optics. It'll blur your vision."

I can't believe it. Seven years have passed since we last saw each other, and she's still telling me to get a haircut. She has no idea.

"Deal." I say. She chuckles. It's the first time I've heard her laugh in almost a decade. I forgot what a nice sound it was.

I guess I didn't realize just how much I missed my sister.

…

We arrived at the location, and the Batarian led us to the pavilion. One of the recruiters walked up to us. He was a Batarian clad in Blue Suns armor, and clearly knew his stuff.

"Careful!" He said, holding up his hands. "This whole area is within Archangel's firing range. You get too high and out of sorts…"

There's a gunshot from across the bridge in the distance, and one of the mercs that was on our side and not paying attention drops to the ground, his head exploded by a high impact round. The Batarian sighs and just points to the evidence on the ground to prove his point.

"What's the deal?" Shepard asked.

"We've cornered Archangel in that mansion on the other end of the bridge. Unfortunately, that bridge is the only way to get to him, and he's turned it into a total kill zone. I've lost count of the number of freelancers he's destroyed since we got here. He even sniped down a gunship. A fucking gunship!" He threw up his hands in dismay. But then he smiled. "But there's hope. He's getting tired and making some mistakes. And that's where you come in: we're organizing a special raiding team to get him from behind and flank. But we need a large-scale distraction."

"Lemme guess, that's why the back-end of every merc contract was so bloody enticing." Zaeed growled. The Batarian shrugged.

"Sorry old man, but you aren't a member of the Blue Suns, Eclipse, or Blood Pack. You volunteered for this mission, and you're getting the tougher job as a result. You don't like it, the aircar's still waiting over there."

"Alright, we'll be part of the ground team." Shepard said. "Anything we should know?"

"Just that you will have the cover of some heavy mechs and the gunship, provided that Cathka can get it online." The Batarian said. "He's in the hangar to the left. The YMIR mechs are stationed in that hallway to the right. In case you wanna ogle the pretty toys we've got." He turned around. "I'm gonna get ready for the assault. You freelancers try not to get killed, will you?" He walked away before any of us could say anything.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Shepard speaks.

"We should try to mess with the mechs and the gunship, but there's not enough time." She said. "Unless we split up."

"I can handle the core IFFs of your basic YMIR mech, provided they're in standby mode." Miranda said. "I'll do that."

"I like ripping wires out of ships." Zaeed said. "I can handle the gunship."

"Fair enough." Shepard said. "I'll go with Miranda. Zaeed, feel like taking Doc?"

"Sure thing, Commander." Zaeed said. He gestured towards me. "C'mon, mate. Let's go ground a helo."

…

We found the gunship situated in a little hangar just outside of the boulevard. A Batarian in Blue Suns gear, whom I assumed was Cathka, was talking to a few soldiers in similar armor. He dismissed them, and they all gave us a look as we walked past them. Bunch of little shits, that group. Cathka turned towards us, and set down his electro-tool he'd been using on the interior of the gunship on the counter.

"Wow, we might've lucked out with this batch of freelancers." Cathka said. "You two look like you mean business. You especially, old man." He said to Zaeed, who growled.

"Another word and you'll be talking through broken teeth, jackass." Zaeed snarled. Cathka just laughed.

"See? Touchy, too! Perfect combination for cannon fodder."

"I gotta ask, mate: what's the goddamn point of having a bunch of us mercs running around like chickens with our heads cut off if you have a goddamned gunship? Why not just bomb that Archangel bastard?"

I see what Zaeed's doing. He's distracting Cathka to give me time to think of a way to incapacitate the guy. Devious, but smart as hell.

"I wish. The last time we dragged this thing out here, he damn near sniped the rotors off. I didn't think such sniper skill was possible and yet-"

He was interrupted by the sound of another gunshot, and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

"-I stand corrected with each shot." Cathka said. "But he's getting tired. No way he has the focus to hit the rotors of this baby anymore. And once I'm done re-wiring the interior targeting system, which he somehow blew to hell, it'll be easy to rain down hell on that bastard."

"He hit the targeting computer?" Zaeed asked, folding his arms across his chest. "How the bloody hell did he accomplish that?"

I stare at the work bench, and just like that the solution is right in front of me.

"Hell if I know, human. All I know is I've spent the last day trying to put this thing back together."

I casually walk up behind the Batarian.

"You're working too hard." I said.

I jammed the electro-tool into the small of his back.

He gave a scream of pain as the voltage coursed through his armor and then into his very body, and within moments his screams became subdued gurgling. He slumped to the ground, twitching but very much dead. I look at his corpse, and then I look at Zaeed. He has a look of horror and shock on his face.

"What?" I asked. "Don't tell me you didn't think of that, too."

"It's not that I'm mad about." Zaeed said, scowling. "I was waiting for you to get it through your thick skull that this Batarian bastard needed an 'electro-stimulant' if you will. No, what I'm pissed about is the fact that you had all this time to pull it off, and the best bloody thing you can come up with is 'You're working too hard?'"

"Didn't keep my handbook of one-liners on me, Massani." I said, shrugging. He snorted.

"Just got no sense of style, kid. None whatsoever. But that's what running with me will teach you. Some panache. Some class. Now, which one is the right fucking wire?" He leans over and peers into the inner workings of the gunship. "Hmm, I think this one looks important. And that one bloody well can go too! A yank here, a crossing of the streams there…all done." He slammed the door to the wiring shut.

"What did you do to it?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"I have no bloody clue." He said. "Just a lot of bad shit."

"Zaeed. Doc. We re-programmed the mechs and-what the hell?" We turned around to see Sis and Miranda behind us. Miranda has a blank expression on her face, but Sis looked shocked. "Why is that Batarian on the ground, dead with his ass sticking up in the air?" I look at Zaeed, who shrugs.

"Don't blame us, Commander. We showed him some adjustments to make to this gunship and…I guess he found them too shocking to handle."

I smack my forehead. That was the best he could come up with? Sis just groans, and rolls her eyes.

"Really?" She asked. "And I suppose this had nothing to do with it?" She yanks the electro-tool out of his back, and waves in front of our faces. I shrug.

"He fell backwards onto it."

"Doc, just stop talking." Sis said with a hiss. She turned to Zaeed. "Don't let your jihad against the Batarians jeopardize why we're here, Zaeed. That's unprofessional and downright stupid." She pointed at me. "And don't encourage him."

I struggle not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"That's everything we can do, Commander." Miranda said. "Now we need to get ready with the rest of them. And pray that Archangel knows who you are and decides not to shoot at us first."

Sis nods, and then gestures for us to follow her. I do, but not before realizing just how deep into the rabbit hole I have dug myself. And there's a sizeable and growing part of me that realizes the truth.

I'm not digging back out of this one.

A/N: I figured the Butcher of Torfan might get along with Zaeed Massani, or that the latter would gravitate to the former. We'll see how the next chapter goes, won't we?"