Thane arrived at the rendezvous point, casually glancing around– searching for him. The drell took a step forward and now Garrus had a clear shot. He studied the assassin through his sights and waited a moment, but Shepard didn't appear. He tapped his radio twice, connecting only to the drell's receiver. "Where is she, Krios?" he coldly demanded.

Thane lifted his hands away from his body, perceiving the situation immediately. He slowly reached up to activate his communicator to reply, "A few moments behind me. She ordered me to leave while she wrapped up. As a Spectre, she can avoid charges even if she's picked up. I would not."

"On her word, they'd release you," Garrus argued, but he knew Shepard wouldn't have wanted to risk anyone else, particularly on a personal side-trip. He sighed and lowered the rifle. "That does sound like her, though. I'll be over in a minute," he said, hoping the assassin wouldn't hold a grudge.

The turian folded away the mantis and tried to act nonchalant in case anyone was watching as he made his way through what he assumed had once been a small park. Now, the packed dirt and winding paved paths were cluttered with garbage containers and littered with broken glass and worse. There was evidence of red sand use, and there were even a few medi-gel injectors lying around. The thought of children playing here made him cringe, but it was slightly higher ground which gave him a clean line of sight through the back of the alley Shepard had chosen for them to rally to. Unfortunately, he would have to circle the block or climb the wall to get there from where he was, but the reeking containers were stacked pretty high and he thought he could make it over easily, as long as he didn't destabilize the pile in his attempt.

He made it over the top of the wall and landed in a crouch. For a moment, he thought Thane was no longer there, but the drell stepped out of the shadows, just enough to give Garrus his position. The assassin was calm, standing with his hands folded behind his back, but Garrus was sure Thane was ready to burst into action at the first sign of threat. "Uh, sorry about that. I wasn't really lying in wait for you, but when you showed up alone..."

"I understand. It was well done, and had we been pursued, the ambush would have proven valuable. Thank you for trusting me," Thane said with a polite nod.

"You're... welcome. But let's save congratulating ourselves for cleaning up the slums of Nos Astra and destabilizing the undercity's power structure enough to send it into chaos and turf wars for the next five years until we're back on the Normandy."

"You don't think this will help?" the assassin questioned.

"It helped Shepard," the turian said with a shrug. "I have no doubt this guy deserved it, and anyone who shoots at Shepard has earned what they get, but sometimes killing bad people doesn't make the galaxy a better place. But that's not what this was about, so it doesn't matter."

"It should always matter. I suppose vigilante justice is more complicated than it appears."

"Damn right it is. Even Shepard should leave this kind of crap to the professionals."

"Meaning it should be left to the authorities, or to the likes of Archangel of Omega?" the drell mildly asked.

"The authorities can't do their jobs, even if they want to," Garrus replied, failing to keep the venom out of his tone. C-Sec was still a sore spot for him.

"The rumors I heard about Archangel's death were quite spectacular," Thane mused. "You'll have to tell me what really happened. Not many people come back from the dead."

"Something Shepard and I share," Garrus glibly said. "Damn, where is she?"

"Right behind you, Garrus," Shepard called, appearing at the mouth of the alley. She was out of breath and covered in blood– which thankfully didn't show well on her black clothing, but her hands and neck were a gory mess. "Let's get back to the Normandy."

"Not looking like that, Commander," Thane admonished.

"Don't really have the means to clean up, Krios," Shepard archly replied.

"Hang on, Jane, he's right. Take off your jacket for a minute," Garrus requested, holding his hand out for the garment. For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse, but she shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it to him. "Good," he said, grabbing the cloth at her shoulder and ripping her shirt's long sleeve free.

"What the hell, Garrus?" Shepard protested, giving him a disgusted look.

"It's a scarf now," he explained. She rolled her eyes and snatched the cloth from his talons. "Keep your hands in your pockets and stay behind us," he continued. "No one will notice the blood, as long as we hurry and you don't open your mouth or draw attention to yourself. If anyone asks, you should say you're a painter."

Shepard grinned, presumably liking the image of painting in blood, but more important than her good humor, she did as he asked and wrapped her neck, hiding the gashes– and, he noted with some chagrin, the barely-healed marks of his own teeth from– what was it, now?– almost two weeks ago. Damn, why is that taking so long to heal? he must have gotten infected, or maybe he got through the skin weave. He dismissed the line of thought, knowing where it would eventually lead him.

"Or I could just say I'm a Spectre and we could all quit worrying about any of this."

"We're not worried, Shepard," Garrus argued. "But the Council only upheld your status because they were trying to cover their asses. Do you really trust them to support you in this now?"

"What's it look like, Garrus?" she said, flinging her arms wide to invite his inspection. She looked absurd with her uneven sleeves, and he realized there was even blood in her hair. Before he found the words to express his disgust, Thane stepped closer to her. His gaze traveled over her– he noticed the blood in her hair, too.

"Replace the jacket and that will suffice," Thane said after scrutinizing Shepard's appearance. Garrus kept his mandibles close, preventing a territorial flare. The assassin wasn't eyeing her up, and it didn't matter even if he was. "Remember to keep your hands hidden, Commander," the drell continued, prompting Shepard to jamb her hands into her pockets as soon as she fitted the jacket over her shoulders.

"We should go," Shepard said, turning to exit the alley. "We'll have to walk a bit to find a cab."

"Allow me to arrange for transport," Thane said, gracefully heading Shepard off and taking the lead, but Garrus didn't really feel like it was as much of a request as it sounded like. The turian wondered what the assassin was thinking– if the drell was impressed by Shepard. Thane had only met her a few hours earlier, and this wasn't how she usually ran things. Shepard had fought well, but she was off, and Garrus wasn't sure exactly why, though he had some rather disturbing guesses. While he was watching the two of them in the hideout, his targeting display had been difficult to interpret, and the fight had taken place in a matter of a few moments, but Thane definitely had more kills in that room than Shepard, maybe more than he did himself. If Krios was actually working for Shepard now, they were all lucky.

He wanted to believe it, but with such a high cost if he was wrong, he couldn't. Not yet, even if Shepard trusted the drell as much as she seemed to. If it's not trust, it's recklessness. She went into that place blind, without armor, with an untested assassin at her back and me in the next building over, and without knowing if she'd even have a weapon. And what the hell is that thing, anyway, and where'd she get it? he wondered.

Garrus fell into step beside Shepard, trying to keep his shoulder just ahead of hers, but she kept jockeying for position– probably subconsciously. He wanted to talk to her, but she'd probably just snarl at him and brush him off, and now he couldn't even insist on having a conversation with her. He still wasn't entirely resolved about their last fight, but he was almost ready to apologize, and he had the feeling he wouldn't get to– that Shepard was done with the topic and that she wouldn't want to let him revisit it. That didn't sit well with him.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he'd made a huge mistake ending their relationship, but he sighed and tried not to dwell on the thought. It had been the right call almost two weeks ago, and it still was. Shepard had gotten along just fine without him getting in her business before, and she was doing fine now. It was just a lot harder to see her as the unstoppable and invincible force of nature she was to him before they'd gotten intimate, which, when he thought of it, was a little backwards. He knew her better now, and he knew some of the reasons why she was so tough and capable. He wished that knowledge would reinforce how he saw her instead of changing it.

Zaeed glanced at the time. Five minutes had gone by since he checked it last. He felt a fool for his anxiety, but half a day had passed since Grunt and Kasumi limped back to the ship. When Garrus and Jacob marched out, he knew even before talking to the krogan that Shepard was running another mission, but then the kid came back and he was carrying the Commander's kit.

Grunt was still in med bay, sleeping off the medi-gel and painkillers the doc fed him to bolster his regeneration, and Kasumi... She might know something, but the mercenary wasn't sure it was worth revealing to her that he knew most of her favorite niches and nooks just to satisfy his curiosity and lay his apprehension to rest. Shepard never failed and if he did grab the master thief, the Commander would probably darken the airlock not fifteen minutes later, making him lose his advantage for nothing. When'd I turn into a goddamn mother hen? She's tough as nails– tougher than Jack pretends to be. But the feeling wasn't going away. He grumbled to himself and began his search of the ship.

He had reached the mess and was about to quit his search, but he decided to try one more spot. He passed the narrow walkway into the cook's station just before reaching the rows of sleeper pods. His hand darted out, expecting to meet nothing but air, but Kasumi was there, perched on a stack of ration crates next to the garbage and compost bins. The cloaked human yelped and squirmed and he let her go. "Get your ass down to the cargo hold, Sweetheart," he muttered under his breath, disguising his grab by adjusting the top crate. "Got to watch how you stack those things, Gardner," he loudly scolded the mess sergeant. Gardner's attention didn't deviate from the massive, bubbling pot he stirred with a long wooden spoon, but he waved a hand over his shoulder.

Zaeed grabbed a bar of rations– he was amused when he found out Shepard shared his preference for them over the prepared meals Gardner provided– then he headed back below decks, holding the elevator until he felt a gentle stirring of air. Once the doors shut, Kasumi uncloaked, her half-hooded face a picture of annoyance.

"This had better be good, Massani," the thief said petulantly. "I was busy."

"Doing what, Sweetheart? Holding down that stack of crates?" Zaeed flippantly suggested.

"Gathering information," the thief calmly corrected.

"On whom?"

"Cut the crap," the girl deflected. "What do you want?"

"Information."

Kasumi smiled. "On whom?" she echoed back to him.

The elevator stopped and he didn't answer until they were in his quarters– or what he thought of as his quarters. "Shepard," he said. "The mission last night. Grunt just said, 'it went good, she got her assassin,' and passed out."

"That's it? Wait for the briefing. There was nothing to it."

"Why didn't she come back?"

Kasumi shrugged, "She was talking about going after some local gang leader. Murdock or Marduke or something. You saw Grunt, and my cloak was glitching, so she sent us back. We passed Garrus and Jacob on the way and she kept Krios with her."

"Mardok? Was it Mardok she went after?"

"Probably. If you want the recording, you're going to have to pay me."

"Goddamn idiot child," he cursed. "What's he got to do with anything? He's a two-bit fence and a glorified street thug."

"Was. She already got him," Kasumi supplied with a half-hidden grin. "That one's free."

"How do you know?" Zaeed demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "You got a wire on the Commander?"

"Something like that," the girl said, oozing self-satisfaction. "What can I say? I'm an artist."

Zaeed kept his expression blank, but he was thrilled. The girl was too proud, if she'd played it cool, he'd have had nothing. Since she couldn't, her information was as good as his. "That you are, Goto. Tap me in and I'll give you half my Cerberus salary every week," he generously offered.

"That's it? Do you have any idea what something like that on her is worth?"

"A hell of a lot more than that, but if you don't want Shepard to be making a bid for it, you're going to take the deal. I doubt Shepard will be offering you money for your troubles. And I want access to anything you're recording that takes place on the Normandy."

"Who says there's anything else?" Kasumi challenged.

"Your shit-eating grin does, Sweetheart. Who else are you selling to? Shadow Broker?" he casually asked. If he found out she was selling to anyone, he might have to tip Shepard off anyway. What she was doing was to goddamn important to let this little klepto's greed derail the mission.

"Not a chance, Massani. I just cache it away for a rainy day. I work for Shepard because I believe in what she's doing and she needs someone like me watching her back. What do you want with it?"

"Same as you– I want to watch her back."

"I don't know if that's absolutely, revoltingly perverted, or if it's a sign that deep beneath that grizzled exterior, you're just a big, soft-hearted teddy bear. I'm going with the teddy bear for the sake of my conscience. Got a 'tool?"

"I'm not that old, Sweetheart," he said activating the device.

She shrugged, activating her own omni-tool, "Sometimes people who like guns and explosives too much miss some of the more nuanced aspects of life, like technology."

"There is no 'too much' when it comes to the technology that keeps me alive, Sweetheart. You get my address yet? I thought you were good with all this techie stuff."

Kasumi laughed, "Right. I got it, and I got your extranet history, a list of the programs you've run in the last year, your personal correspondence, and your gaming trophies. Keep it active another minute and I'll get to the really interesting stuff like your bank accounts."

"Goddamned thieving hackers. If you move one penny, I'll tell Grunt where all your hiding places are, you sneaky, sticky-fingered little..."

"Penny?" she scoffed, interrupting him. "You really are old. You have access to my surveillance, but I've got a record of everything you look at, so don't even try to play peeping tom. I'll know, and then I'll tell Shepard. And if you make copies of anything or try to record it in any way, the deal's off. Not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you. Nothing personal, but you're a mercenary. Oh, and if you don't pay me, I'll just set up an automatic draft. It might not be for half your check from Cerberus, so don't forget to save me the trouble."

"Fair enough, thief. Pleasure doing business. Come on down for drinks and cards tomorrow night after nineteen hundred."

"I might just do that," Kasumi said, tossing him a mock salute and leaving the room.

Zaeed checked his omnitool, surprised to find that there was a whole new interface available. He activated it and his jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw how extensive Kasumi's surveillance was. It made his own setup look like the work of a child. He shook his head and swallowed his pride. It didn't matter– what mattered was doing what you could with what you had. And now he had a wealth of data to sort through.

Thankfully, the interface was well-labeled. There was a virtual construction that wasn't labeled, and the time stamp indicated it was less than an hour old. He accessed the file and watched in amazement as Shepard and her team slaughtered a room full of armed thugs within moments. Shepard herself had no firearms and no armor as far as he could tell from the patchy display the file provided. The Commander's bleeding insane. What the hell was all that for? he wondered. She might be insane, but she was a goddamned artist on the battlefield, too. He shut down the 'tool interface and headed for the conference room, fully intending to catch the debriefing Shepard always held with Cerberus One and Two after missions. He needed a little entertainment, and if she wasn't going to take him on missions, he deserved to goddamned hear about them afterward.

Author's Note: Two updates in two days! Why? Because I hate original back story taking center stage for too long, and posting it quickly doesn't really make it shorter, but it does get it out of my way. Anyone have any holiday wishes for this story? Like a special chapter of Shep and Garrus making up and blowing off some more steam? Or maybe a special night of passion with Zaeed? (Please don't ask for that, because I'd probably write it to see if I can make it work.) How about a triple update? Be creative! I make no promises, but I'm curious what the lovely readers of this story would like to read. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following and adding to your favorites. That's what I want for this story, if anyone cares. ;)