Chapter 7

She watched the rise and fall of his chest in the unchanging darkness of space. Without his visor, he looked younger, more vulnerable. Reluctant to disturb him, she grazed his tattoos with the gentlest of touches. He was warm beneath her fingers. Before he met with Tarak's gunship, he had been undeniably handsome by turian standards. Now he was striking. It wasn't even the scars, not really; it was the self-contained command that he carried with him, the cool confidence and fierce passion. Two years had refined him, like a blade in a crucible, even as he almost broke under the weight.

He shifted slightly, his face turning into her touch as he slept. Her throat closed, bittersweetness clinging to her like morning mist. His face was calm in sleep.

Something was stirring in her that had been absent since the destruction of the Normandy. Since the klaxons wailing and Miranda's frantic voice had woken her in a once-sterile lab.

Something was right again in her life. She smiled faintly, realizing how tenuous it all was. Weren't his scars – and her own – testament to that?

She had never told anyone how close it had really been, when pieces of Sovereign had begun raining down on the Council Chamber, like the hand of a dying god. She remembered a deadly hail of glass shards that sliced her face and armor, and the shadow of the behemoth's leg blotting out the light. She had fallen to the floor with the impact as it broke into the chamber, and when she opened her eyes, she was staring at a steely gray expanse that went on forever, just inches from her eyes while she lay on her back and couldn't summon a single thought.

Somehow, Garrus and Tali were alive too. Somehow they had all survived. Commander Shepard was not a religious woman, but that day she sent up thanks.

And now, they were rushing into deeper danger, dancing blindfolded along a precipice, miles or feet or inches away from a final, fatal plunge to the rocks below. The Normandy SR-2 carried more than crew, she carried the crushing knowledge that there might be no return from where they were going.

"We're going to make it, Garrus," she told the sleeping turian softly. "I won't let us die."

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"Everything is ready?"

"Everything. We're just waiting for them to arrive."

"Good." The Broker's agent watched the curling, amorphous haze of cigarette smoke over the bar. Shady patrons kept their eyes on their drinks and their hands on their guns. People knew to leave well enough alone her. The agent smiled thinly. Shielded from view, the man in the holo never wavered in his attention. "I want no slip-ups. No trail. Nothing for them to follow."

Halfway across the galaxy, his companion smiled. "Don't insult me."

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"Right." Shepard surveyed her XO across the woman's desk. "I understand the Normandy needs to sit in port while we work on the new shielding."

"That's correct, Commander." Miranda's voice was crisp and efficient as ever. Her smile compensated for her tone, however. "I know you don't like twiddling your thumbs at the spaceport, but we can't perform upgrades in space. Might I suggest some shore leave for yourself and . . . your crew?"

Shepard nodded, the agent's hesitation apparently passing her by. "Sounds like a good idea. I'm sure some of them have cash just burning a hole in their pocket." She blinked as Miranda flushed bright pink. "Miranda?"

Her XO coughed and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Commander. I seem to have picked up a bug. I'll drop by Mordin's lab, and pass on your orders."

"Good idea," Shepard said vaguely. "Make sure they spend those new-earned creds on something nice." She smirked at Miranda's back as the other woman walked quickly – very quickly – out the door.

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She woke with the taste of blood in her mouth. She wasn't sure if it was hers or not, she remembered a brief struggle when she regained consciousness – far sooner than they had anticipated, judging by the creative stream of swears that greeted her – before she felt the prick of a needle at her neck and fell into darkness again.

She shifted on the floor. The uncompromising metal was cold against her cheek, her wrists were bound behind her back, her feet at the ankles. The room she was in felt like the brig of a ship – though she could see nothing, she felt the movement of the ship and the faint hum of the engine. The room smelled of filtered air and liquor, laced with old blood and the burned-metal scent of expired heat clips. Somewhere above her, bulkheads creaked.

Commander Shepard could not remember how she got here.

I don't understand. We just stopped by the Citadel for repairs. How could I have been so careless? –

Memory surged, the crew of the Normandy laughing and jostling as they dispersed throughout the wards, civilian clothing, her orders. Better not to advertise themselves as Cerberus here on the Citadel. Al-Jilani would have had a field day with that bit of gossip, let alone what Joram Talid would have made out of a Council Spectre working with a pro-human terrorist group. Shepard wasn't inclined to give her tabloid fodder or the politician ammunition.

Kelly looked back to where Shepard stood talking with Garrus with a wry smile and – she was almost certain – a wink, before turning back to Gabby and Ken.

Shepard herself had been persuaded by Miranda to join in a girl's night out at the Dark Star. Tweaking Miranda about the not-so-secret bet seemed to have made her determined to make it up to the commander in drinks. The Normandy's resident shrink in particular insisted that Shepard needed to loosen up for a bit – and what did she mean she'd never tried the Dark Star's Astra Screwdriver?

And then Garrus left with Thane to check out that gun auction. My godIf she was here, wherever here was – where the hell was her crew? Her heart pounded as she squirmed upright, testing her restraints – shit, shit, shit – and she gasped as a wave of pain coursed through her like adrenaline. Her body spasmed, she bit back a scream. Agony spiked through her brain, clawing down her spine and along her ribs before tightening like a vise around her lungs.

What was in that needle?

The pain gnawed its way through her veins, her muscles twitching involuntarily. The tendons in her hands strained white as she clenched her bound fists. It felt like someone had fed glass into her circulatory system. She could feel each and every beat of her heart, outlined in sharp, piercing throbs.

Shepard choked as the pain suddenly released her. Rationally, she knew that only a few heartbeats had passed, but she felt drained and empty in the absence of pain. Her eyes stung and her lip throbbed and bled where she'd bitten through it in an effort not to scream. Her ragged breathing was loud in the confines of the brig. Her body crumpled limp on the floor. She was almost grateful for its numbing chill.

What the hell did they put in me? More importantly, who were they?

Metal screeched behind her and she couldn't even summon the energy to tense. Dim light shafted through the room, and she could barely discern a turian shadow through the haze of pain, wavering on the wall.

"Ga-" Her voice was less than a whisper.

She couldn't finish the word. Could hardly speak at all. Helpless anger simmered under her skin, she forced it aside with cold single-mindedness. She couldn't afford blind rage.

"Commander Shepard." The voice was unfamiliar, the tone unbothered, the flange unmistakable. "No doubt you're quite puzzled. Allow me to explain your circumstances." The turian padded into view, seating himself on the bench on the opposite wall. She burned him into her memory from where she lay on the floor, anger smoldering under the cool analysis she forced herself into.

His coloring was a deep brown, his face bare. He was armored – aside from Garrus, she had never seen an unarmored turian – in deep gray, almost black. If he was a merc, she had no clue what group he was from – perhaps he was a freelancer, more likely, he was privately employed. Shepard mentally ran down the list of people who could want her – alive – and the shorter list of those who actually had the resources to do it.

She almost regretted pissing off the galaxy's biggest and meanest.

Almost.

Like Saren, his cheekbones extended back like a fringe, a characteristic no other turian she had met possessed. "What you are currently feeling is a rather innovative drug recently developed by one of our specialists in the Terminus systems. Rather than sedate for your trip, we've been forced to debilitate you instead." His voice was a crisp, pleasant baritone, at odds with the assault rifle on his back. He paused, then continued conversationally, "did you know you have enough ice in your system to cripple a krogan?"

Did you know you're on enough tranqs to drop an elcor? She would have laughed, but it hurt too much.

He saw the shudder pass through her body with benign and clinical interest, mistaking its cause. "As you already seem to have learned, ice will react to your activity level. Heart rate goes up, pain. Breathing heavy? Pain. Essentially, I have your neuromuscular system on a leash." He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. His talons wove together loosely as he looked down on her. "And you truly do not wish to find out what it will do to you if you try to use biotics, my dear commander."

She found her tongue as the turian smiled rather nastily at her. "What have you done to my crew?"

One of his brow ridges rose a little. "Nothing. My orders were for you and you alone. Taking care of your crew would have left a mess . . . and a trail." The faint light gleamed on his teeth, his deep gold eyes. "I am not a clumsy man, commander."

"Just a stupid one, then?"

He laughed as if she had delivered a perfect punch line. "Shepard – I may call you Shepard?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Let me say quite candidly that I admire your nerve. However, your insults mean absolutely nothing here."

Her wits were returning to her. "They mean more than your life will when the Normandy catches up to you." She smiled, mockingly polite. "But things don't have to degenerate to that level. I can be reasonable – as some of my crew won't be. By the time the Illusive Man and my people are through with you and your boss, your health and dignity will be a fond memory. I'm offering you a chance to walk away from this while you still can."

"Whatever gives you the idea that they can find us?" the turian asked. His eyes bored into her, and the disparaging smile was back. "I told you, Shepard, I am quite thorough."

"Who are you and what the fuck do you want, bareface?" she spat out, her temper getting the better of her.

He leaned back against the wall. His voice never strayed from pleasantry. She might have just paid him a compliment. "Please call me Chek, Shepard. I've noticed you don't stand on formality with my species."

He chuckled at her expression. "Come now," he said chidingly. "I've been keeping tabs on you for a while. Any turian with eyes in his head can see how Vakarian looks at you. It's quite interesting to watch; one would think you were already bonded."

"And I suppose you kidnapped and drugged me just so you could give me a strict lecture on the iniquities of interspecies relationships," Shepard said with dripping sarcasm.

Chek shook his head, mandibles quivering. "You mistake me, Shepard. I'm somewhat more progressive than most of my species. And the Shadow Broker is hardly interested in your fraternizing." His eyes locked with hers, metallic and golden. Straightforward. "Just your body."

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The silence thudded in her ears. Once. Twice. Then, "The Shadow Broker?"

"Surprised, Shepard?" The turian stood. "Don't be. The Broker doesn't like to be thwarted."

"So Liara T'Soni told me." Shepard retorted. Out of her armor, the chill of the floor had bled through her clothes, and her restraints chafed at her wrists. She flexed her fingers behind her back, wondering if she dared disregard his warning and slam him with biotics.

Chek did not react. She was coming to realize that nothing she said would rile him. Shepard forced herself not to flinch as he approached her.

"Please refrain from struggling, Shepard." He picked her up, seating her on the bench opposite his and propping her back against the wall. "Communication becomes difficult when ice is triggered." His head twisted, snake-like, to the side when she attempted to headbutt him. Her efforts were rewarded with a mild tingling, like the heat of the sun before it begins to burn.

His hand shot out, pinning her to the wall by her neck. The back of her skull cracked against the hard metal and stars exploded in and out of her vision. His talons tightened and she bit the inside of her cheek. "That's quite enough of that." His nails dug in, and she felt the skin break. He braced a leg against her knees, preventing her from kicking at him. Her shoulders burned as her arms were pressed back into the wall, forced into awkward angles by her restraints. His eyes were quite calm, voice even. "I am endeavoring to be civil here." The turian's hand crushed her windpipe, talons digging sharply into the muscle and tendon of her neck. A black haze pounded across her eyes.

Panic fluttered at the edge of her brain. She hadn't been choked like this since – she fought to keep that thought at bay. Cheap liquor and rusted steel and –

sobs in the dark –

Suddenly, he let go. She inhaled deeply, sharply, clenching her teeth as her vision cleared. Her lungs burned as she sucked in air. She fell forward, head hanging and glared her hatred through half-lidded eyes. Her neck ached where he had gripped it.

The turian was staring at his claws, beaded red with her blood. The sticky dampness caught at the loose strands of her hair, pasting them to her neck. "One forgets how delicate you humans are," the turian murmured, almost to himself.

Then he looked back at her. "Please accept my sincerest apologies, Shepard. I had no intention of drawing blood."

That's comforting. "I accept your apology in the spirit it was given," she replied, eyes venomous. Her throat was a dull line of agony, and she knew she bruises were already blossoming there. Memories of Tenth Street brooded just beneath the surface of her thoughts.

He took her words at face value. "Excellent. To return to your jibe about Dr. T'Soni, measures have been taken to encourage the doctor's disinterest. Don't hope for help from that quarter."

She had only one last question. "Why am I still alive?"

Chek smiled at her. "Because the Collectors requested it."

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"Tell me I misheard you."

Miranda winced and Jacob slammed a fist into the polished wood of the table, too angry for words. The turian was seething, eyes burning as he looked at her. The air around him crackled with tension.

"I can find no trace of her," EDI informed them, simulated worry overlaying her voice. "I lost contact with her at 0016 in the Zakera ward. Tali'Zorah and I have been piecing together security footage." The AI paused, then continued with obvious regret. "So far we have been unsuccessful."

"How the fuck did you lose her? We were on the fucking Citadel for chrissakes!" Jack burst out. Miranda couldn't decide whether she looked like a feral alley cat or a lost child. The weight of her own failure pressed down on her.

The Normandy's XO bit back a nasty retort and leveled an icy look at stunned convict instead. "She was with Kelly, Tali and I at the Dark Star until she stepped outside for some fresh air. She told us she would be right back."

Thane spoke for the first time, his voice quiet and level. "This was not a casual abduction. To have lured and subdued the commander and left no trace behind – that requires careful planning and certain resources."

Jacob turned toward the assassin. "You have some thoughts on this?"

"Jacob, this isn't the first time Shepard's been taken," Miranda said quietly. "I don't like to jump to conclusions . . . but it seems like too much of a coincidence."

Her lieutenant blinked. "Miranda, not even the Shadow Broker is that – "

Garrus interrupted them, his words falling into the sudden silence with icy precision. "Guessing gets us nowhere. We need hard evidence, or an information broker."

"Someone who already has experience with the Shadow Broker," Tali added from the doorway. She held up the datapad in her hand. "EDI and I salvaged what we could." The quarian went to stand next to the table. "EDI, would you bring up what we found?"

Unconsciously, Shepard's dirty dozen leaned in as black-and-white footage filled the display. A low-quality video from an awkward angle fizzled in and out of view, the mouth of an alley. A human and a turian crowded a young girl into the passage as she cast frantic glances over her shoulder, heels scuffing against the floor.

"Why doesn't she scream for help?" Jacob asked.

Grunt took a different view. "Why doesn't she put up a fight?"

"An excellent question," Thane murmured. "I think in a few moments-" he stopped as an unmistakable figure rushed into the alley, clad in near-white biotics. The commander disappeared into the alley. Silence gripped the crew as they stared at the mouth of the alleyway, waiting. Jack popped her knuckles distractedly, one by one. Tali shifted from foot to foot.

Long minutes passed before the girl and her companions emerged with a woman in clothes slightly worse for a night out, the hood of her light jacket pulled over her head. The turian half-supported, half-dragged her as her head hung down. His companion swayed beside him as though tipsy, the young girl clinging to him and laughing uproariously. They looked nothing so much like a group of friends stumbling home after hitting the bars all night.

"Anything from other cameras on the Citadel?" Garrus asked tightly. The turian had forced himself to a semblance of calm, coiling his anger and fear within himself like a spring. Only Thane, who stood next to him, saw the quiver of his clenched fists and felt the silent rumble deep in his lungs.

"No," Tali replied, apologetic. "Someone wiped them. We were lucky to even get this."

"Miranda?" Joker's voice came in over the intercom. "I've gotten in touch with Liara. She wants us to rendezvous at Illium, pronto. Says we can't chance relaying anything – even on Cerberus channels."

"They're long gone from the Citadel anyway. Step on it, Jeff." Shepard's XO replied. Her eyes were grim and icy. "I don't think we have much time."


A/N: A little late, I know. Please review and let me know what you thought!