"I thought that the security on Illium was supposed to be among the best? What the hell could have happened to him?" Shepard was agitated, unable to keep herself from pacing. They'd been over this three times already and nothing seemed to be getting through to her. Liara knew she could easily blame her own roiling emotional state on too little sleep and the stim tablets she'd taken after Shepard and Garrus had left her office the first time, but even she could admit to herself that those were only convenient excuses.

"I wouldn't have expected you to be so naïve, Shepard," Liara snapped at her, lashing out at last with hard eyes that were as blazing and brittle as she felt. "Money and influence rule here, just like anywhere else."

Shepard enunciated each word slowly. "Then help me."

"I already said I would try; Garrus was… is my friend, too." She moved to stand behind her desk, tossing the datapad in her hands on to its surface with more force than necessary, taking a miniscule amount of satisfaction in the way it clattered noisily. "My resources are limited. I have to compensate my sources—especially if I'm pulling them off existing assignments—and I don't have those kinds of reserves. Not to mention that I have obligations to my employer and to my other clients. I know you want me to drop everything, but I…" Liara paused and rubbed her forehead with her slender fingers. "It's not like it was, Shepard. I don't have the freedom to just—"

"I don't care how much it costs! Do whatever it fucking takes! Anything! I need him back, Liara."

Liara leaned forward, bracing her hands on the surface of the desk. "I said I would do what I could. I'll put every source I can spare on it, but it's going to take credits and time."

Shepard threw up her hands. "We don't have time! Who knows what they're doing to him right now." She stormed forward, planting her own hands on the opposite side of the desk and leaning in. "Listen. I will pay whatever it takes for you to get the information as quickly as possible. Just do it. Now." She bowed her head, taking in a few shuddering breaths before looking back up to meet Liara's eyes. "Please. I can't lose him. I can't."

Liara let out a deep breath and slowly sank down into her chair, watching Shepard struggling to hold herself together. Icy fingers prickled and wormed their way into her heart, piercing her chest with their needle-tipped claws until she could barely breathe. "How long have you been in love with him?" She'd managed to keep her voice steady; a small victory.

Shepard went still. For the first time since she'd entered Liara's office, she was motionless.

Just when Liara had begun to think that she wasn't going to answer, she heard Shepard draw in a shaky breath, the words a quiet murmur as she exhaled. "I don't know. Since Omega… since before… I don't know."

Liara found herself reaching across the desk to place her hand on top of Shepard's. She'd nearly forgotten how much warmer Shepard's skin was, compared to her own, and she reluctantly forced aside the bitterness that now clung to those memories. It was disconcerting, almost frightening, to see Shepard so openly vulnerable.

Shepard glanced down at their overlapping hands, and Liara nearly missed the split second where her features seemed to crumple. "I need your help. I could find another information broker, but not one that I trust. Whatever you need in terms of credits, I'll make sure you have it."

Liara pulled her hand away, blinking the dampness from her eyes as her fingers slid across Shepard's in an inadvertent caress. "I'll help you find him, Shepard. I'll do everything I can."

They watched each other, the insurmountable expanse of the desk between them, before Shepard finally spoke. "Thank you."

Liara swallowed; her throat tight with words she would never say out loud. "We'll find him," she said instead. "I promise."

oOoOo

The message came in nearly eight hours later.

"Shepard here. What have you got for me, Liara?"

"I don't know who's behind this yet. I only have the names of the hired mercs so far, but I'm waiting to hear back from someone who might know more. The two krogan you injured are dead—their bodies were found by Illium Security earlier today in a waste receptacle in the medical district."

Shepard clutched the mangled pieces of Garrus' visor that she'd slipped into the pocket of her fatigues, grateful that the message had come through during a rare moment alone in the now empty briefing room. "Is that enough to work from? Can you—"

Liara cut her off. "I have more than that. Garrus was loaded on to a ship approximately five hours ago."

"What? Do you know where it's headed?"

Liara's words made her whole body go cold; the ghostly hiss of her damaged air supply echoing in her ears.

"Omega. They're taking him back to Omega."

oOoOo

Garrus stirred, vaguely aware that his movement was restricted although his thoughts were too muddled for him to be able to fully process why that was. Trying to think was pointless; he couldn't concentrate for more than a second or two at a time and it seemed like far more effort than it was worth.

There was a bitter, chemical-like taste in his mouth and the inside of his nasal passages, and his throat was dry enough that it burned whenever he reflexively tried to swallow.

His head was throbbing with each pulse of his heartbeat, the sound hammering woodenly in his ears. He kept his eyes clenched tightly closed, trying to block out even the smallest glimmer of the dim light in the room… not that it helped.

His left side hurt, shooting sharp jabs of pain through his ribs if he attempted to shift his position.

Not good.

His thoughts always seemed to get to that point and then stop.

Not good.

He needed to… do something. Warn—find—someone…

A groan escaped from the confines of his throat, his subvocals betraying his confusion and distress.

There were footsteps—not good, not good, not good, his brain chanted—and then something smashed into his jaw in an explosion of agony that made the darkness behind his eyes blaze white.

He might have whimpered, and then he didn't remember any more.

oOoOo

There was nothing she could do right now.

Nothing.

Shepard pounded her fists against the heavy bag in the Normandy's exercise room, keeping her eyes focused on the targets marked with swatches of duct tape—old-fashioned, but effective. Head. Body. Groin. She snapped a few punches at the bag, shifted defensively, and then let off another flurry of punches aimed at the bag's midsection.

There was nothing more she could be doing, and it was impossible to concentrate on anything else. They were on their way to Omega, and she trusted that Joker and EDI had mapped out the fastest course possible. Liara was still trying to find out the rest of the specifics. Who was behind the abduction, and why? What was the connection to Archangel? Where on Omega was he being taken?

Her hair was already soaked with sweat, and it was running into her eyes and down her neck, seeping into her shirt and expanding the borders of the wet stains on the small of her back and around her collar. She'd been at it for an hour or two now, and on the treadmill before that, and her muscles were nearly numb with exhaustion. With a snarl, she slammed three or four more punches at the bag before she finally stilled; bent forward, bracing her hands on her knees, as she gulped in air.

It was late, well past the start of the night cycle shift, but her cabin still had a half-full case of dextro beer sitting on the floor and an unmade bed and two towels hanging to dry in the bathroom instead of one… She couldn't face that. She couldn't.

Grabbing her bottle of water from the bench that ran along the length of the wall, Shepard pressed the cool sides of the container to her cheeks, neck, and forehead before taking a long drink. She set it back down on the bench and moved to the dark blue mats that covered one corner of the floor. It felt good to stretch—her limbs were already starting to feel tired and heavy—and she ran through several of the standard Alliance close combat drills, letting her body flow naturally from one movement into the next.

When she finally reached the point where her body was trembling with the exertion she'd been putting it through, Shepard snagged her water bottle once more and sunk down to sit cross-legged on the mats as she slowly drank what was left. After a quick, cool shower in the communal shower area—nearly empty due to the lateness of the hour—she headed for the mess and a reheated MRE. She deliberately sat with her back to the main battery, unwilling to face that room either. That was the last thing she remembered until Tali was suddenly shaking her gently.

"Shepard? Are you all right?"

Shepard lifted her head off of her arms and sat up, her back protesting at the awkward angle. She'd been slouched over the table in the mess for who knew how long. "Tali? What time is it?"

"Nearly 0500." The quarian slid into the seat next to hers. "Keelah, you look terrible."

"Yeah, well, might as well match my appearance to how I'm feeling." Shepard sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I was hoping Liara would have had something by now."

"Nothing yet?"

Shepard shook her head. "I've got my omni-tool set to put through any message from her on the highest priority ranking. We've still got about…," she paused for a moment, calculating, "nine hours before we reach Omega, but I have no idea where we're going from there. It could be just a drop off point and they're going to switch him on to another ship going somewhere else entirely." She rubbed her eyes again. "I guess we go talk to Aria first, if Liara doesn't have anything else for us to go on by the time we dock."

"We're with you, Shepard. Whatever you need."

"I know. Thanks." She tried to smile at Tali, but wasn't quite able to pull it off. "It means a lot."

"Have you slept at all? I mean, besides the nap you were having here in the mess?"

Shepard rolled her right shoulder, trying to ease the residual ache. "I've tried," that part wasn't exactly true, "but, I just… can't."

"I can't pretend to know what you're going through. I… know how much Garrus means to you. To all of us. But, I know that's not the same thing…" Tali twisted the fabric of her hood between her fingers as she talked, betraying her own agitation. "If there's anything I can be doing right now to help, you just have to ask."

"I wish there was." Shepard stood up reluctantly with a sigh that turned into a groan as her stiff muscles protested the movement. The words that had been circling her thoughts, snapping and tearing off bloody gobs of flesh like vultures feasting on carrion, came out of her mouth. "There's nothing more we can do right now."

Nothing.

Maybe they were already too late.

Maybe he was already dead, and now she was going to have to face the empty, endless days without him just as he'd had to do.

Her tongue tasted like the scorched and acrid fumes of the Normandy falling to pieces, its bones picked clean by the stars.

She nodded at Tali, not trusting herself to speak, and walked off as if she had somewhere to go.

oOoOo

Garrus' thoughts were clearer when he woke this time and he opened his eyes carefully, just enough to squint at his surroundings. He could feel that his arms and legs were still bound in some way, and his limbs ached with a dull, heavy numbness. His armour had been stripped off, leaving him in only his undersuit.

With his tongue, he felt along the points of his teeth in his lower jaw; at least three or four were broken. He was fairly sure his jaw was broken as well, based on the jolts of pain that radiated into his cheek bones when he flexed his mouth plates or shifted his mandibles. His left side was throbbing, sharp and hot, if he inhaled too deeply; broken ribs or a fractured carapace. Either way, he wasn't in great shape to attempt any sort of escape.

Garrus listened for a long time, peering at the room through just the slits of his eyes. Only when he was absolutely sure he was alone, did he open his eyes fully and look around. He was in a small room—likely a storage area of some kind. Several unmarked crates were stacked against one wall and, if he craned his head around as far as his restraints and injuries would allow, he could see a bench with some pieces of what he assumed to be armour—not his—stacked on top of it. There was no sign of Shepard, a chill sinking into his gut at the thought that she could be imprisoned here—somewhere—as well. But, even if she was here and he knew where she was, getting to her would be impossible.

He was lying on the floor, and he could see now that his hands and feet were trussed with a sophisticated metal cuff, much better than the equipment they'd used at C-Sec. If he wriggled, he would probably be able to make it to the bench, although he couldn't imagine that it would do any good. The cuffs not only immobilized his limbs, but the two restraints were also linked together; bending him backward at an awkward angle with the cuffs on his wrists connected to the cuffs around his ankles with a short length of metal alloy fiber cabling. There was no way he would be able to crawl, let alone stand.

Garrus twisted back around, ignoring the pain in his side, to examine the door. It was unremarkable, with a standard type of access panel set into the wall next to it. The activation interface in the center of the door itself was glowing red—locked—which didn't come as much of a surprise. He let his head slump back down to rest on the floor, unsure of what more he could do now. It looked like he was stuck waiting for whoever had done this to him before he would have any more answers. As to why, he had more than a few likely candidates; the Suns, Eclipse, the Blood Pack, or any one of a handful of smaller gangs that 'Archangel' had interfered with. They were going to kill him; he had little doubt about the likelihood of that, too. If they had Shepard, then they—

He swallowed roughly, not allowing himself to finish the thought. If these were the same krogan that had threatened them at that club, they'd only seemed to care about Archangel and hadn't shown any interest in Shepard at all. Although, she had crippled two of them, which could probably have pissed them off enough that they would have grabbed her, too, given the opportunity…

The last thing that he remembered was a cloth being pressed over his mouth and nose, and then being pulled and dragged into a transport vehicle of some kind. Shepard had gone… somewhere… and he was sure she hadn't come back before that point. His memories in the transport were hazy at best, but he would have remembered if Shepard had been there. Wouldn't he?

With his cheek pressed against the cool metal floor, Garrus gradually realized that he could feel a gentle vibration across his mandible. A ship. He was on a ship. As much as he was trying to stay calm and think clearly, it was impossible to deny the fear that was prickling through him. The odds of coming back from this one weren't in his favour at all.

Steeling himself, Garrus stared fixedly at the door, and waited.

oOoOo

He didn't have to wait long, as it turned out.

Garrus felt their footsteps through the floor before the panel on the doors had even shifted to green, and he knew there was no sense pretending to still be unconscious. He wanted to know who was behind this. He glared defiantly at the doors, waiting for them to slide open.

While he'd expected to see the krogan—the uninjured pair from the night club—he hadn't expected to see an asari with them. He didn't recognize her, though she looked at him disdainfully, as if he was something unpleasant that she'd just scraped off the bottom of her expensive-looking boots.

"You're awake. Good." The two sneering krogan stopped just inside the doorway, but she strolled in confidently and crouched down in front of him. He stayed still and silent, watching her. "What? You're not going to ask who I am? Beg for your life? Offer to pay me?" She smiled then, sitting back in her haunches to stare at him more closely. "You are going to be fun, aren't you?"

Garrus waited, hoping she might give more away about where they were headed or, if they had Shepard as well. The asari stood up, unfurling in a delicate motion, before walking a slow circuit around him. It didn't take her long, as the room was so small. The pair of krogan standing in the doorway just snorted, but reminded otherwise silent. Garrus deliberately kept his head steady, his gaze centered on the doors; not giving her the satisfaction of attempting to watch where she was going.

She stopped in front of him again, speaking gently as if they were having a pleasant conversation. "I suppose you don't even know why you're here. That's nice. I think surprises are so much more enjoyable, don't you?" When he didn't answer, she sighed and gave a small, callous sort of shrug. "Suit yourself."

The asari walked slowly around until she was standing behind him once more. He could hear the sound of something being moved or picked up off of the bench that he could no longer see. "But, just for my own satisfaction, I think I'd like to hear you admit who you are. It's only fair, really." She completed another circuit around him, stopping in front of him once again, although she was now carrying a thin, flexible metal wand that she was swinging in a graceful arc. "Let's start with something easy. Why don't you tell me your name?"

Garrus tried to keep his eyes from following the tip of the wand. While he wasn't sure exactly what it was, he was reasonably sure that it wasn't good.

"See, now you're not being polite. Shall we see if this helps?" She looked at him questioningly; her eyes dark. "It certainly appears that some correction is in order." On its next arc, the wand swung down, connecting with a spot on his shoulder. It was somehow attuned to her biotic power, and her energy poured downward into him, pooling in his veins and spreading; contaminating his tissue.

It burned.

It burned as if every nerve ending in his body had been disrupted, sending waves of pain so overwhelming that his eyes closed involuntarily as his muscles spasmed. From the far recesses of his mind, he could feel a foreign consciousness pressing against his own; needles of an outside awareness invading and violating his mind.

He might have been screaming—there was only pain that climbed higher and higher as it crested—and he could feel her presence slipping through his thoughts; greasy and slick with wrongness.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Garrus could have wept. As he came back to himself, he realized he was rocking, whimpering, moaning. It hurt… he hurt. But, she was out of his mind, and the relief was intense as he gorged his lungs with air as if he'd been drowning. It took several minutes before he was able to open his eyes.

His shoulder was still on fire, although the pain wasn't radiating through his entire body as it had been before. Where the wand had touched him, his undersuit was burned away; the scorched edges of the fabric seared into his skin around an open welt that was beginning to seep blue.

"Did you wish to speak now?" The asari held the wand still as she waited for him to answer, but he stubbornly remained silent. He wasn't going to give her anything, not if Shepard could be at risk, too. "No? Well, remember that this was your choice."

With a delicate motion, her wrist extended neatly and the tip of the wand landed on the sensitive tissue between the lower part of his neck and his carapace. Garrus knew he was screaming this time, agony sparking through his chest and into his sluggish limbs. Once more, her consciousness slid across his; broken glass shredding the surface of his mind as she attempted to probe deeper. It went on and on; his eyes nearly rolling back into his head as he seizured. Still bound by the restraints around his wrists and ankles, his back bowed even further.

This time, when she finally lifted the wand from his flesh, he vomited; there was little left in his stomach, but he heaved over and over all the same. He wished he could curl forward, but the metal cabling that linked the cuffs together behind his back prevented that sort of movement.

He lost track of how many more times it happened.

There had been a few more touches to his chest and shoulders before she'd moved to his back, his neck, his legs. She didn't seem to be angry at his refusal, serenely flicking the thin rod at him again and again. He might have been able to withstand the pain, but the sharp claws of her mind patiently digging and gouging into his own was becoming too much to bear.

It came out this time, an unconscious surrender like another dry heave from his empty stomach. "Vakarian." He could barely choke the name out through his clenched jaws. "Vakarian." He was whimpering, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but making the pain stop. "Garrus."

"No, not that name." The asari regarded him sadly. "That's not the name we want." She flicked the tip of the wand, almost—but not quite— grazing his chest and he flinched back with an involuntary moan. "Do you need some help?"

Garrus shook his head almost imperceptibly back and forth. No.

The wand came down, brushing against his already weeping flesh with the lightest of strokes.

Spirits help him, it hurt. It hurt and he wanted it to stop. What did it matter—they were going to kill him anyway… It didn't matter. It didn't matter what he did…

"Archangel." The word came out as a sharp groan.

The wand lifted and the sharpest pain dissipated, leaving him panting and weak and broken.

"There." The asari smiled, and then crouched down to look at him. She trailed her fingers down his jaw in a caress that filled him with revulsion. "Was that so hard?" His shudder made her smile grow wider, showing off her perfectly spaced white teeth. "I think my mother is going to be very pleased to properly make your acquaintance. You're going to be polite to her, aren't you?" She patted his cheek lightly as he nodded as best as he was able, his eyes never leaving the wand. "Of course you are."


A/N: A huge thank you to my beta, Josie Lange, for helping me untangle my awkward, rambling sentences and for making this story so much better.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to all of you out there reading and commenting, and for all of your support. It means more than I could ever say. Thank you.