The next morning, Laurel felt the old, familiar feeling of nausea and dehydration. She shakily walked to the bathroom to vomit the contents of last night's excursion into the toilet bowl and fumbled in the kitchen for some painkillers. Deciding it was better now she was up, she began to make tea. There was a creak behind her and Fern appeared, blanket curled around her body, still dressed in last night's clothes. She had taken off her makeup, but her hair resembled something close to a raptor's nest. Laurel could guess accurately hers probably appeared the same. She offered Fern a tea, to which the girl enthusiastically nodded. They didn't say much, both feeling their hangovers intensely. Laurel, unfortunately, could remember all of the night and she remembered what she had told Fern. It was difficult not to feel embarrassment. This is why you don't drink. Hoping to put off the inevitable conversation a little longer, she went to the shower to freshen up. By the time she came back, Fern had changed but was still curled up on the sofa, flicking through the extranet on a tablet.

"Just checking the social media channels," Fern told her without looking up. "I sometimes tend to post incredibly awkward, embarrassing things online when drunk. Last time, it cost me a friend. The time before, a job." Laurel sniggered as she sat down next to her.

"Wow, that's…"

"Pretty bad, I know. I always think I'm going to have such a nice, chilled out time but then it just…gets out of hand."

"Well I had a really nice time last night, Fern," smiled Laurel. Fern put down the tablet, pulling a small smile also.

"Me too, Laur," she said, taking Laurel's hand and squeezing it. "You're nothing close to whom I'd imagined, to what dad or Anise or Emma said about you. Mum was right all along." Laurel glanced up at the mezzanine floor, knowing she'd have to see her father at some point today.

"Do you remember all of last night?" she asked. Fern gave her a small nod, and then squeezed her hand again. A few minutes later, Fern spoke.

"Why are you so afraid?" she asked. Laurel frowned as she turned to look at Fern in surprise.

"Of what?"

"Of him," replied Fern, her face serious. "Of Marik?" Laurel blinked several times, her defences rising slightly. Fern must've forgotten some of their conversation last night, particularly the part where she said she'd first met Marik as a prisoner during the war.

"I'm-I'm not," she said. Fern bit her lip in thought and they fell silent again.

"He's….he's said some awful things to me, Fern. He has so much resentment towards humans, which is quite common. But when he drinks, he gets so angry, and directs all that prejudice towards me. I tried opening up to him….and it backfired."

"How?"

"He…his race are so… They have this sense of public duty, this honour. He saw the death of his men as his fault. There are other things too - he's disgraced within his society. He has to drink to keep his feelings of shame at bay and I don't know what to do…."

"Do they not treat alcoholism?" asked Fern.

"I don't honestly know. It's hard to gauge them sometimes, they're so….stiff. Even if they did, he hasn't done anything about it. He's so inconsistent. One minute he's being totally romantic, making me dinner, being affectionate, doing small things for me and then bam! He's slips into defensive nasty mode."

"He sounds very troubled," commented Fern. "And unwilling to let go. What…happened between you two exactly?" So Laurel, for the first time, decided to recount the entire story. She'd never told anyone else about this before and not in full detail. She told Fern that Marik had her tortured during the First Contact War. How she bumped into him ten years later on the Citadel, while she was working in a bar. How she ended up on Omega by accident, due to an ex. That during her time on Omega, she was at her lowest, selling drugs to make money. That she later ended up being tangled in with the Blue Suns, and hejust happened to work for them. She told Fern about Jensen and the casino and the later time spent with Marik. How he'd patched her up because he was a trained medic….

By the time she finished, her heart and mind felt squeezed of energy.

"I…I don't know what to say, Laur," began Fern. "With your past and his drinking I don't think it's healthy. He doesn't respect himself or you, by the sounds of it. It's difficult to judge because he's not a human. I'm sure deep down he is a good man….er, turian." Fern looked deep in thought.

"He didn't remember me for ages…it took a while before he realised I was the one he tortured!"

"He wasn't the one who tortured you though…" Fern said. Laurel frowned.

"He was in charge, he ordered it. He made my life a living hell for…a week or longer? You should've seen what I looked like when the Alliance finally picked me up…" They both fell silent for a long while, deep in thought.

"Give it time, " replied Fern eventually. "You guys just need to get off the Citadel, find somewhere else. That place has too many memories for you." Laurel nodded, knowing her sister was right. In fact, it was an idea that surprised her – why hadn't she thought of it before? Laurel smiled at her.

"I'm so glad I came to see you," she told her sister.

"I just wish we had arranged it sooner. And with Mum still alive," said Fern. She glanced over at a photograph framed on a nearby sideboard. "God, her optimism was annoying. Whenever we complained we didn't have enough money for this or that, she'd say, 'but we're rich in love.'" Laurel laughed.

"Not many women do what she did. Just told society to fuck off with their expectations. Even if it meant leaving us," said Laurel. They both laughed together.

When he returned to work a day later, reporters bombarded Marik by the entrance to work. Someone, with a sharp heel, had stood on the soft fleshy part of his foot (he wasn't wearing armour) and his vision briefly went blue with pain.

"Officer! Officer!" they yelled and screeched in his ear as he tried to force his way to the entrance lift where he could scan his ID card.

"Do you know anything about Anise Carter and her connection to human terrorist group Cerberus?"

"As a previous diplomat, how do you think her involvement will have an impact on relations between humans and the Council species?"

"Do you have any idea what information was stolen from Anise Carter's office months earlier?"

Thankfully his boss, Tunas Adracus, was by the entrance, his omni tool by the lift's button to force the door closed.

"Have some decorum!" he bellowed. "Get back!" Marik pushed his way through, partially helped by Adracus, who forced the doors shut immediately.

"Good morning, sir," said Marik, standing straight and saluting as they rode the lift down to C-Sec.

"Not a good morning, Marik," his boss grumbled in reply. "This entire Anise Carter-Cerberus investigation is aging my plates. We've found some disturbing news. I'll brief you when we are in my office." It was not good timing. Marik had his letter of resignation, his speech, everything, all ready. He knew Executor Pallin was right, and that it was best if he left. He needed to sort his life out. Adracus didn't give him time to prepare, however. As soon they stepped inside his office, the turian didn't hold his breath, his talons clenched in anxiety. Anise Carter had been working for Cerberus for a number of years, supplying them with highly confidential information about Council operations.

"And not just any kind of information," Adracus said, waving his arm in anger. "Council SPECTRE operations. Top level, top priority, top-secret missions. They've sabotaged countless years of work on various colonies, stolen resources and murdered without remorse. They've tried to sever alliances and treaties, destroying confidence. It's been happening for several years now - ever since she became the Interstellar Alliance Consulate." After the discussion, which was interrupted by a call from the Council, several C-Sec officers were discussing the situation, enraged by a single human sabotaging their alliances and opportunities. There must be more to this, he thought, trying to ignore the angry remarks of his fellow colleagues. Pavra was one of them, shrugging him off when he tried to reason with her. He paced beside his desk with worry, deep in thought. If this were made public….things could go south, ever so quickly. He approached Adracus again, as soon as he could.

"With all due respect, this information cannot be made public," he stated.

"There has to be justice," Adracus snapped. "If humans are to suffer for it, so be it. They have brought it on themselves for allowing such xenophobic organisations to exist."

"Which I am well aware of," replied Marik. "But this would prove devastating for the alliance between us and the humans. We will not know the repercussions. The Council will want-"

"To do things the diplomatic way," Adracus sighed. Marik spent most of his day trying to help Adracus, convince him, and clear the outside of the building of news reporters. By the end of the day, he collapsed in bed without dinner realising he hadn't handed in his resignation. Tomorrow.

Her father looked very frail as he lay there in bed. His chest was sunken underneath his gown, and his hair was thinning considerably. His skin was peppered with age spots and his skin drooped in places where it shouldn't. He was kept upright by a wealth of pillows and cushions behind him, with a side table that swung round to face him and a television screen opposite on the wall. The windows in the side of the roof were large and offered plenty of light and a beautiful view. She hadn't seen her father for so long, she nearly didn't recognise him. The hair that did remain still curled rebelliously, curls she'd inherited.

"Laurel…" he said, voice soft but gravelly. What do I say? How do I act? Laurel felt so nervous, like a child again, in this moment. As she glanced at him, his eyes had changed their colour, the whiteness gone and replaced with a sickly yellowness.

"Hi dad," she replied, taking up a comfy seat next to him. There was a crocheted blanket hung on the back of the chair, a sign Fern had spent many nights curled up here. His breathing was stunted; a gargle could be heard at the back of his throat. He had a breathing tube hooked into his nose. The inside of the tube was brown. He was in a much worse condition than Fern had said. Why had she been lying? Anise had been right then.

"Dad…Do you need me to call for someone?" she asked. She saw he was hooked up to an IV drip – morphine? He shook his head, raising his hand. The back of his hand was tinged with purple and green, where a nurse had struggled consistently to find a good vein. He signalled towards the nearby chair, which she promptly sat herself in.

"You look…so well," he croaked, turning his head to look at her. There was an increasingly large lump felt in her throat. She didn't know what to say. It'd been nearly been twenty years since she'd last spoken to him.

"I'm so….sorry, Laurel," he breathed. "I regret…every…thing I did." Laurel took hold of his hand and squeezed hard. Tears came to her eyes.

"It's ok, dad," she whispered.

"No…it's not…I wasn't…there for…you." He was rapidly growing weaker with each breath.

"It doesn't matter now," Laurel told him. "What matters is the present." Her father seemed to stare straight at her, his breaths dying down. The pulse was still going very fast in his neck, and as Laurel sat there, she knew the worst was about to happen. She called for Fern, realising that his bad condition had probably happened quicker than they thought. With a few more stunted gargles and his breathing becoming slower, Michael Westfahl finally died in his own bed.

6 months later

Things had calmed down significantly since the media had somehow got hold of the truth about Anise Carter. It was chaos in the streets as turians and other species took to the streets to protest against Cerberus – or perhaps humanity's overall aggression and expansion. They wanted the human embassy to be ousted as a suitable punishment for what had happened. In all circumstances this seemed adequate. It had proved quite devastating for the alliance between turians and humans, with the amount of crimes involving humans having gone up by sixty percent. Absedeus Marik had to admit he felt remorse for the victims of these crimes – usually innocent civilians who were trying to get on despite the chaotic atmosphere. He was also glad that he'd left C-Sec many months earlier, happy to not have to deal with breaking up fights and protests, arresting suspects or nearly being shot every other day by a trigger-happy idiot. His omni tool bleeped as he sat in a small café in the Presidium, looking over the lake that shimmered in the bright light. Putting down his cup of tea, he glanced to see it was a message from Laurel. His heart clenched, clenched harder than he thought it would. She hadn't spoken to him for six months, unable to take it anymore. He had occasionally sent her messages, asking her how she was but he heard nothing. He didn't blame her. All he could do was ignore his feelings as he started to rebuild his life. He had tried to come to terms with the addiction that had swallowed up so many years of his life. Leaving C-Sec, her leaving to go back to Earth, it seemed to be a catalyst for change.

So many things he had used as an excuse before to keep the drinks coming. If only there was a reset button on his compulsions, emotions and history. Everyone knew he was trouble now; although they didn't realise that most of the times he didn't wantto get into these horrible states. The only way he could show distress was getting into horrible states. He had chosen alcohol over friends, over family. Too many nights he'd spent alone, drinking in his lonely apartment, filling the void with alcohol and anxiety. He knew the worst thing was not to do with anything outside – it was all in his head. He had tried sobriety twice before – but he hadn't made that his main goal. Now, he had to focus on that before anything else. The treatment centre he had been referred to was actually human-run. The asari had relatively few addicts, perhaps because their lives stretched infinitely. The same could be said for salarians, but in reverse. The other patients were mostly human, turian and a couple of krogan. The treatment centre smelt of acetone, a sign that the inhabitants' organs were struggling to process toxins, pushing the poison out from their skin. It was a smell that would stay with him forever. He looked down at his omni tool again, hearing it bleep for the second time. It was Laurel again, wanting to meet at a café they both knew. So she wants it to be strictly formal. He had hoped she'd asked to meet him at his apartment, but perhaps that was too wishful for him. It felt less personal outside his home. He'd grown to loathe the Citadel.

It was two days later when Marik had met up with Laurel.

He had buffed his fringe, filed his talons, picked out something smart to wear. He wondered if she'd notice, being a human. The café was located in a market strip named Iallrius, not too far from the Silversun Strip. It was well known for its multicultural deli bars and food stalls, the place always simmering with spice and heat. As he walked through the busy market, hoping to spot her before heading inside the café, Marik suddenly became aware of his thudding heart. He clenched and unclenched his talons, a headache becoming vaguely threatening behind his crest plates. She was outside the café, seated already, with a drink. A small knot formed in his chest when he saw her, ached when he thought of what he was going to tell her. How she'd react when she'd see him again. Her hair was fluffy and wild as ever, and her skin seemed darker, as if she'd spent time in the sun. He guessed she would've – having lived on space stations for a significant amount of her life. There was a new spattering of freckles over her cheeks and on the top of her shoulders and round her clavicles. Marik forced a lump in his throat to go down when he realised the feelings were still there, no matter how much he wanted to suffocate them. Laurel had picked up on him immediately and pulled a stiff smile, waving to him a little. Marik felt the floor beneath him give way as he tried to walk up to her in a straight line. You're sober.

"Hi Marik," she said as he walked up to their table. Her smooth, husky voice had featured so many times in his dreams. He tried his best to keep his eyes on her face, wanting to take her all in immediately. He was unsure how humans greeted each other when things were…awkward, so he did nothing and sat down.

"Hello Laurel…You look…I mean, er, you look well." Spirits, when did you revert to a teenager? Luckily she smiled a little.

"Thanks. All that sea air, I forgot what it was like after a while. I like your suit." His mandibles drew apart in joy at her compliment. He was afraid she'd be nothing but hostile with him – which was what he deserved, quite frankly.

"Your family…are they well?" he asked. Despite his happiness in seeing her, he knew this was an excruciatingly awkward affair. He was clasping his talons tightly underneath the table. He felt unable to order a drink, too nervous to swallow anything or lose sight of her, lest this all be a wild dream. Why did she look so different? Her eyes were brighter, her shoulders loosened, her hair untamed. She wore her clothes like she did before, but this time she looked comfortable. She wore a new jacket, one that matched the colour of her eyes and her lips looked tinged with something pleasant. Keep your eyes on her eyes, fool.

"Um…Dad died - as soon as I saw him, really. My sister and I have rekindled our relationship. It was so, so good to see her. They…well, she, has a beautiful house back home. I mean, home home – where I grew up. It's airy, surrounded by the sea, in an old converted barn. My dad…his will left the house to my sister and I. I feel like I finally belong somewhere," she babbled away.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said, hoping it sounded as if he hadn't interrupted. She shook her head.

"It's fine. He…he said some things to me before he died that…" She drifted off, lost in thought.

"It's alright, Laurel. You don't have to tell me," he assured her.

"Thanks. It's just…. if I knew how it would all turn out…I would've gone back sooner. So much sooner. I would've seen mum again, maybe started a new relationship with my dad. I could've avoided the miserable life I led both on the Citadel and Omega."

"What matters is the present," he said to her. He wanted to say so much more, but felt it was best to leave it at that. She nodded and took a long sip of her hot drink, watching the passers by, all different species.

"I have to ask; why did you come back?" he asked her. She pursed her lips giving him a level stare, fingers fiddling in her lap.

"Because I heard about Anise," she replied without blinking. "Among other things." Some of her things were still at his apartment. Was that all?

"There's been more developments," he said to her, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "How much have you heard?"

"Just that, really."

"She has disappeared, for one. The media got hold of the story and things blew up. There were protests at first, now things are tense between our people and crime is at an all time high. She still hasn't been heard from or seen. The investigation is on-going. So far they've managed to find that the information stolen has had something to do with an arms manufacturer, Oprikar-"

"That's Stefan Jensen's manufacturer," she hissed suddenly, leaning forward to meet him very close. He felt her warm breath on his face and he momentarily lost himself.

"Shit…. Is there anything else?" she finished. He shook his head, drawing back.

"No…not that I know of. I left C-Sec. Or was politely asked to, anyway. If I was still there I might have more information. And I'm not inclined to go breaking into my old employers information records, either." He immediately regretted his last sentence, wondering if she thought it too defensive or hostile. She leaned back too, shrugging her shoulders.

"I really hope this doesn't come to bite us on the arse. What has she done? What an idiot. And she was supposed to be the smart one…." He remained silent, not wanting to discuss this further, regretting he told her it at all.

"Marik…. How have things been with you? Did you want to leave C-Sec?" Her voice was cautious, and he felt cautious.

"I suppose in the end, I did. But I feel rather useless at the moment. I don't know what to do with my free time. I'm not exactly retirement age either, I've still fifteen to twenty years to go."

"You seem…better," she said, reaching forward. Her hand had freckles on it. Reluctantly he drew his hand up and met hers. She squeezed his hand tightly and he nearly melted at the contact. The thudding heart and aching knot were in his mouth now, soaking up any words he had like a sponge.

"I…I've been sober f-for…four months and two days," he said.

"That's great," she said, squeezing his hand tighter. Why won't she say it? Why won't you say it. That you're in love with her. Her. A human. That you're deeply sorry for everything.

"I've taken up my studies again," she announced while he tortured himself internall. It's now or never, Deus. Now or never. Now or never. Now or never.

"Laurel I'm deeply sorry for everything I've said. Everything I have done. Everything that's ever caused hurt to you," he announced suddenly, stopping her in her words. Her mouth dropped open slightly.

"I-I'm in love with you. I have…I have loved you for a long time, now. But…my selfish actions, my behaviour was unacceptable. I hurt you. Too many times."

"Marik…" she began.

"I could never be what you deserve, Laurel. There's nothing I can offer you. I am not a good man, not a man of honour. I need you to end this, because I can't." Her eyes began leaking with tears, and his subharmonics rumbled with grief. He stared down into his lap, feeling his own tears. One large single tear dropped onto the cleanliness of his suit. He let them fall until he was sure they'd stopped for now.

"It can't work between us. You know it can't. You need to be back on Earth, with your sister. You need to catch up on lost time. On time that you deserve. I need to leave the Citadel. It holds…too many memories for me," he said, his normally very deep voice pitching higher with emotion. Both of them were crying openly at this point, despite being surrounded by the public. No one took any notice, thankfully.

"B-But what about you?" she cried, wiping away her tears that ran down her cheeks.

"Oh I'll find a little colony for turians somewhere," he tried to smile. "Buy a farm…have some, what are those Earth birds you keep? Chickens? Yeah, chickens. Although I couldn't eat their eggs. Maybe an Earth dog. Or a varren." They laughed together, noses blocked from their crying so the laughing turned to snorting.

"But…"

"Shhh…No buts," he said quietly, interlacing his talons with her spindly fingers. "Our past...It's not something to recover from lightly. We've tried to make it work, but it can't." She kept crying however, and so did he. His heart couldn't take it anymore. Marik stood up, and took her hand. He pressed his mouth plates to the back of her hand, imitating a human kiss.

"Take care, Laurel," he said to her, for the last time. She tried to pull him back, too overcome with tears to say anything. Marik pulled away and disappeared into the crowds of the market, disappearing from sight.

It was difficult for both of them to get through the next week.

Him, trying to avoid going back on his own words and immediately contacting her. Her, trying to do exactly the same. Laurel knew she still had all her possessions back at his apartment, but she couldn't bring herself to go round his and see him again. Part of her was hurt, part of her was angry and mostly the other half distraught. Yet she respected his choice, was surprised beyond words what he'd told her. He was in love with her? She knew he had feelings for her but was astounded to think that he loved her. Love was a powerful word. Love was not easy or simple. It wasn't just sex and it wasn't just friendship. Even if they did confess such feelings and tried to make a future, what future would it be? Could two different species from completely different worlds try to eek out an existence without fear or prejudice? Could their own shortcomings overcome these problems? Could love just overcome it? She couldn't say she felt the same about him - her feelings were too confused. The past still hurt so much, no matter how much the negative voice said she ought to have got over it by now. How could one ever recover from the psychological effects of torture? The eight long years spent in a prison ostracised from her family and ostracised further from society?

She rented a hotel room for a week, but decided that she wanted to go back home immediately. Perhaps next time she'd bring Fern for a grand tour of the galaxy's multiculturalism. Thankfully, she managed to receive half a refund for her hotel room, and booked a flight home tomorrow. Sat on her hotel bed going through her studies on her handheld terminal, she suddenly heard a cautious knock at the door. Laurel frowned, it was just after eleven at night. Getting up slowly from her comfy bed, she padded in socks over to the door and looked through the eyehole. Unfortunately it was not a turian. It was a man, mid to late forties, whom she didn't recognise at all. Deciding against opening the door she opened the video intercom to talk to him instead.

"Hi. It's a bit late," she said into the intercom. The man's brown face was prematurely lined with lines, as if he'd lived a hard life.

"Ms. Westfahl, please I need to talk to you."

"Could you tell me who you are first? And why you're here?"

"Ex-Alliance. I have something you might be interested in."

"Sorry I don't buy it. Can you go bother someone else please?" she then said, about to flip the intercom screen off.

"PLEASE! Westfahl, I've risked a lot to get this to you-"

"What?" she asked, her heart beginning to thud. The man held up on finger and unzipped his backpack, slowly drawing out a tiny piece of equipment. It looked like an old-fashioned hard drive.

"The blackbox from 2157," he said. She knew instantly what he meant; the flight recorder from the ship she departed on to disarm the nuclear probe in 2157. Laurel opened the door, letting him in, astounded. He handed it to her the minute she let him inside.

"How did…" She asked, turning the piece of equipment in her hands.

"The ship was decommissioned and sent to Korlus for scrap. I don't know whether Jensen had a hand in that, Alliance don't normally associate with Korlus but…"

"I know it. I was stationed on Korlus for a time," she said, holding the blackbox tightly in her hands. Her eyes nearly filled with tears.

"Someone found it during the process, decided to keep it. Blackboxes on Korlus are a rare find, they usually remove them before sending them there. I was a merc with the Blue Suns. Someone you know contacted me – she had contacts on Korlus who weren't associated with Cerberus."

"Why did Jensen not try and get rid of it?" she asked, nonplussed. It seemed very careless of him. The man gave her a simple shrug.

"There's more to it than I know. I think he's cosy with the higher officials. Also once a ship goes to Korlus, that's it. And you know well yourself it's a no-go zone for most people."

"He's an arrogant bastard," she whispered. The tears slipped out of her eyes.

"Thank you…thank you…I don't know or want to know how you found me but…please tell me who your contact is," she pleaded. The man opened the door. She recognised the hidden weapons that bulked out his clothing, cementing the fact he was a secret agent of some kind. He went out into the corridor, having looked left and right as he did so.

"Someone you know," he replied, nodding at her. With that, he disappeared.

The following day, Laurel's head was in a whirl. She had the blackbox, the flight recorder from her ship, in her possession. This was her chance to clear her name, to gain justice for all the wrongs. She was giddy with joy. It didn't last long however; the man whom had given it to her had been found dead no less than ten hours later, shot brutally in a dodgy old bar deep in the grimy wards. Her heart in mouth as soon as she saw the local news on the television, she changed as quick as she could, glad for her lack of possessions. She had to get to the human embassy or Alliance headquarters on the Citadel. It was likely she might be targeted – it was too much of a coincidence. She thought of Marik – could he help her? She was busy wrapping the blackbox in a pillowcase to protect when she heard a polite knock at the door. Perhaps it was the housekeeper. Her heart couldn't help but thud, making her chest tighten in fear. Her wide eyes stared at the door for a moment, hoping whoever it was had gone. Tucking the blackbox deep into her pocket she tiptoed to the door, seeing who it was on the screen without using the two-way intercom. She couldn't react further because a deafening blast of a shotgun ripped the door open. It sprayed the plastic behind her, where the door handle would've been. She was lucky she had been standing on the right, her scream caught in the back of her throat. It was a massive krogan in blood-red armour.

"Knock, knock," he grinned, gripping a Claymore shotgun in his large beefy hands. Laurel didn't hang about further, throwing herself out of the way as he let another shot off. Her ears were ringing from the blast as she hauled herself towards the window and struggled to open it.

"Who are you?" she yelled.

The krogan, clearly not interested in talking it out, let off a concussive shot, which missed her about an inch and hit the window, making a large dent. Gun-proof glass. The window wouldn't budge. Fuck! Come on!

"The recorder, human," he then snarled, bearing his pearly white teeth, letting off another shot. "Then maybe I'll let you live."

"Over my dead body," she snapped, knowing that if she were too careless she'd end up dead. Krogan were not to be messed with. If she stayed any longer, he'd either shred her guts or charge her and then shred her guts. That claymore shotgun looked mean. The krogan chuckled and then shrugged once he stopped being amused.

"All right then," he grinned. She nearly broke her fingers shoving the window open, which had finally given way. It was a steep drop; what could she do?

"Long way down, human," the krogan threatened. He fired again as she dodged out of the way, yelling as the sound echoed throughout the room, nearly deafening her. She leapt back up, hopped onto the window ledge and plunged down headfirst.

It was about four seconds before she hit something but it felt like an eternity. The wind whistled in her ears as she felt the pull of artificial gravity. She hadn't fallen that far or perhaps she had. The lights around her had blended into one. It felt like being free for a single moment. Laurel had hit a skycar; thankfully she'd dropped into a busy sky lane. The car had wobbled and stopped almost immediately when she made impact with it, breaking the windscreen. She knew it had been an idiotic thing to do, but in this case, probably better than face a krogan. The car's breaking had toppled her back off and back down below her, but before she could feel the four-second eternity of falling again something tingly and warm encased her body. Feeling the warmth of her blood running down the side of her head, she briefly glanced up to see an asari leaning out of another skycar, holding her steady with biotics. Thank the goddess.

When she'd been brought aside to what was a shopping ward with curious onlookers, she saw the skycar owner had been salarian. He was currently quibbling with C-Sec about how much damage she'd caused. She was half lying on the ground, trying to catch her breath. The other asari who'd saved her had already called medics; C-Sec thankfully had been there already.

"It's ok, m'am, it's ok," the female turian C-Sec officer was telling her as she held some fabric to her bleeding head.

"I'm fine, honestly," she moaned somewhat drunkenly. She knew she wasn't fine at all; she felt a sharp pain in her ribs, her forearm was almost certainly broken and something felt like it was rattling loose in her head. It was difficult to keep herself from fainting, but she felt her body winning against her this time. She collapsed on the floor. When she woke a minute later, the officer had her lying in the recovery position. Her ribs were screaming.

"Poor thing," said the asari. "She jumped pretty far."

"You see where she jumped from?" asked the officer.

"The Quince Hotel I think," replied the asari.

"You're very lucky, human," said the officer, still holding the fabric to her head to stem the bleeding.

"Or not lucky," murmured another bystander. "Perhaps she wanted to…"

"Quiet," snapped the asari. Laurel looked at their feet, trying to concentrate. Tell…them…Suddenly her heart nearly stopped; the blackbox. Had she crushed it? Oh you stupid, idiotic, crazy woman. If you've crushed it then all of this would've been for nothing. She tried sitting up, pushing away the officer.

"M'am, please, stay lying down, you're…very injured-"

"No! I want to see…" she murmured incoherently, dipping a hand into her jacket pocket and fishing out the blackbox, still wrapped in the pillowcase. It was intact. Thank Christ I padded it up.

"Medics are on their way…" said the officer behind her again.

"No!" she snapped. "I don't want help. Please call Marik!" She saw the officer frown a little.

"Are you…Laurel?" the officer asked her. Laurel, surprised, nodded. The C-Sec officer stood back up, turning away and spoke into her omni tool quickly. After a few minutes or so, the C-Sec officer turned back round to face Laurel, bending down on her haunches.

"He's coming," said the officer, knowing in her eyes. Maybe it was one of Marik's old colleagues. "I've called off the medics," she added. "I know Marik was a doctor." The salarian skycar driver was still complaining loudly by the time Marik had shown up, stopping abruptly in his skycar and half running towards Laurel.

"Thanks Pavra," Marik said to the C-Sec Officer, squeezing the turian's shoulder. He crouched down to Laurel, immediately cupping her face in his talons.

"Spirits, Laurel…what happened?" he said breathlessly, his usually small eyes now large with fraught anxiety. "You're…where are you hurt?"

"Marik we have to get out of here….I…I'll tell you later," she whispered.

"My apartment?" he asked, as he scooped her easily up into his arms. She cried with pain as he did so.

"No, too dangerous. I need to get something to the human embassy…" she winced as he cradled her into his arms. His body was warm against her and despite everything her heart clenched joyfully. He told the still-complaining salarian he would pay for damages, which shut him up instantly. After he'd put her carefully into the passenger seat he drove them away, joining the busy sky lane.

"Is it really more important than your health, Laurel?" he said quietly, keeping his eyes ahead. "I have medical equipment back home." She winced as he swerved slightly, feeling her broken ribs ever more.

"A man…gave me the…blackbox from my ship…Shanxi," she bit out.

"Blackbox?" he asked, confused. She gritted her teeth.

"Flight recorder," she bit out, making him widen his eyes in shock. However, before he could say anything further, something rammed hard into them from behind. The skycar lurched forward violently, hitting the car in front. The skycar in front of them swerved out of the lane, losing control. Laurel painfully turned round to see two figures in the car behind, one of them the krogan who was leaning out of the window with his shotgun.

"Shit! Get your head down!" she yelled, pushing herself further into her chair. Marik glanced into the rear view mirror, and swerved out of the lane. The shot unfortunately hit the back of their car, blowing a small corner off, plastic and metal raining down below. They were going well over seventy miles an hour and she couldn't help but scream as Marik swerved and lurched the car round objects and buildings as the sky lane narrowed. Another shot was heard, and the skycar behind smashed into them once more. Laurel turned round again to see the krogan leaning out, preparing to jump – right onto their car.

"Marik!" she cried but the krogan was surprisingly fast. He leapt out much quicker than she expected, in a ballsy move. The metal of the skycar creaked as he landed heavily, making Laurel's teeth in her jaw rattle. She heard the pump action of a shotgun, drawing in her breath. Marik did too, before he swerved the skycar violently, trying to force the krogan off. But the krogan was too strong. One shot sounded, blowing a hole in the roof. Marik reached underneath his seat and passed a pistol, a Carnifex, to her. Laurel turned to see the krogan's bright yellow eye looking down at them through the newly formed hole.

"Peekaboo…. A turian as well! That'll make things so much more fun-" Laurel aimed and fired a shot through the hole, missing his leg by a mere centimetre. He roared with laughter as a result.

"Have to try harder than that pathetic human-" He fired his ridiculous shotgun off again, blowing another hole in the roof, aggressively shaking the skycar. Marik swerved through the traffic, trying to thrown the krogan off, but he must've had something on his armour that allowed him to easily cling to the metal of the vehicle. The shots from the shotgun rang through the air again, not helped by the now whistling wind through the car, thanks to the hole. Laurel didn't hesitate and aimed again, trying now to aim between his eyes. Marik's constant swerving wasn't helping, and all of the shots she fired had missed.

"And they tell me you were Alliance, human!" roared the krogan, firing off another ear-splitting shot. This time he'd hit the controls right in front of Marik. It sparked and flashed in front of him, and now they started to plummet. Laurel shot at the krogan again, this time putting a couple of shots into the flesh of his exposed neck and arm. This only put him into a rage however, and he took the edges of where he'd blown a hole through the roof and tore it open with his huge powerful arms.

"Laurel, I can't control the car anymore," shouted Marik through the noise. Her heart was in her mouth at this point. The Citadel had too many overhanging balconies to let them tumble down the sheer drop below. Unfortunately they'd entered a quiet, seedy ward, which would make it harder to lose the krogan. Laurel saw a large balcony where a car dealership was set up.

"Almost there," said Marik, undoing his seatbelt to reach her. The krogan had succeeded at the point in tearing the hole big enough so he could fire off a shot at Laurel. Incredibly, Laurel heard it go off, but it took her minute to realise that Marik had formed a small biotic barrier to protect them.I didn't know he could still do that, her mind thought in a split second. The krogan roared his frustration, but he could do nothing more as the skycar hit the balcony at last, skidding along the floor, breaking half a dozen glass windows before reaching the car dealership. The krogan had leapt off easily as the skycar crashed. Laurel felt herself being jostled awake, seeing smoke at the front of the vehicle.

"Come on," Marik muttered, pushing open his door and dropping down to a crouch. She crawled across in pain, feeling worse than she did before. She copied his stance, as they crouched against the car. The krogan couldn't be heard at this point.

"Can you run?" he whispered to her.

"Yes," she whispered back, not really believing herself. Marik motioned her to stay down, looking above to find the krogan. He was about seventy feet away, storming angrily towards them, shotgun ready. Marik reached into the car again, opening what looked like a glove compartment and pulled out another pistol. If their lives weren't in danger this might have made Laurel smirk or perhaps chastise him.

"Start running, Laurel," he murmured to her. "Don't stop. Head for the Ezkai hotel. Wait in the lobby."

"I'm not leaving you here, Marik," she hissed. "Don't play the goddamn hero."

"I'm going to distract him – you'll get a head start."

"No Marik, please, I-"

"You fuckers are more trouble than you're worth!" yelled the krogan who was suddenly above them. How did he advance on us so quickly? They both got up simultaneously. With incredibly fast reflexes, Marik manually disarmed the krogan whose eyes had been focused on Laurel, starting to run away. He bashed the stock of the shotgun into the krogan's face as he did so.

"Turian!" the krogan sneered, grabbing Marik by the throat in anger and squeezing. Laurel glanced to see the shotgun now on the ground. She ran back, despite Marik's protests and skidded along the floor to grab the shotgun. Before she could get back up, the krogan already had a pistol in his hand, and fired twice at her. The first missed, the second landed in her leg as she jumped. Cursing as she fell to the ground with new pain, she tried reaching for the shotgun watching at the krogan grapple with Marik. It looked like the krogan was going to break his neck at any second. Why won't he use his biotics, her mind cried as she dragged herself quickly to the shotgun she'd dropped. Marik sank his sharp teeth down into the krogan's already injured neck, making the latter roar in agony. He dropped Marik to the ground who proceeded to stumble away and ran towards Laurel.

"RUN!" he yelled. She tried, but her leg was too painful to stand out. Blood had already pooled on the floor.

"MOVE!" Marik yelled again, then dragging her upwards, talons sinking deep into her. He nearly pulled her arm out of her socket. He pushed her forward to try and get her to move. Meanwhile the krogan had regained his bearings, fortifying his armour and moving towards them slowly with his pistol raised.

"Out of the way, turian," the krogan snapped. He fired off a shot at Marik, hitting him in the chest. The force of the shot had made Marik stumble and fall. Laurel, who'd been slightly in front, stopped abruptly.

"Go," she heard Marik say, pushing himself up a little with trembling arms. Her mouth opened and closed in shock. Her legs wouldn't move as she stared at Marik, whose arms shook as he tried to push himself up. She saw a lot of blood, spilling down onto the floor below him. Bright blue blood. She fired off the shotgun before the krogan could. It hit him in the shoulder, making him stumble back but only slightly. His armour had bared the brunt of the shot.

"Try again," he sneered, lifting his pistol to shoot aiming at her head. He didn't have a chance however, because a sudden explosion propelled her off her feet. She landed painfully on her back, catching her buttocks hard on the ground. She smelt smoke and heard the whirring of a skycar. Trying to regain her senses, Laurel weakly pushed herself up to see what had happened. Marik had rolled out of the way, and the krogan lay several feet away, motionless on the ground. A batarian with an RPG leaned out of the skycar that was hovering in the air. She blinked to try and see who it was.

"Get in!" yelled the batarian. She'd rather take her chances with a batarian than a krogan bounty hunter. Pushing herself up and grabbing the shotgun, she ran towards Marik and tried to pull him up into a standing position. He was considerably heavier than a human man.

"Come on, get up," she hissed, pulling at him hard. She had a suspicion that the krogan was just knocked out, rather than dead. He seemed to hear her and dragged himself with great effort, struggling to breathe properly. Blood soaked the front of his tunic and he was cold to touch. As they neared the skycar, Laurel saw the batarian; Mire, who belonged to the Blue Suns. She halted, frowning at him.

"Look human, if I wanted you dead, I'd have made sure this hit you too," he snarled, motioning her to get in. Deciding that Mire was probably an easier target to take down than the krogan, she got into the skycar with Marik.