NOTES: I cannot even begin to apologise for the length of the wait for a new chapter. It has been beyond ridiculous. BUT, if anyone is still with me, I love you! And I AM going to finish this, so I intend to make it worth it!
There was no going back to sleep after that. Whilst watching the early morning sun rise over the port, its rays already warming her skin despite the day's adolescence, Ryder mulled over the events of the last few days. Although there seemed little point in going after Reyes, that didn't mean she had to spend the rest of the day idle. If anything, it was easier to focus on her predicament without the distracting draw of his presence. Reyes had clearly wanted her to forget it, to allow him to resolve the matter of the attempts on her life, to treat it as a purely Kadaran concern and therefore under his jurisdiction. As such, any questions she had asked him the day previous he had batted away with claims he was waiting for further information from his agents and assertions he would inform her as soon as received word of anything. Well, that and diverting her with kisses to her neck and hands over her thighs. And indeed his absence had brought a clarity, one that presented her an opportunity to be truly honest with herself. Now there was no longer the looming threat of the Archon consuming her thoughts, now she was no longer struggling with the cruel separation from her twin, no longer fighting not to be buried under the weight of the expectation of thousands of souls that looked to her to find a home. Now this was no longer the case, she had to admit to herself that something hadn't been right with the Charlatan for weeks, months even.
When Reyes had so swiftly left her room on the Tempest after she had been shot, so swiftly to rectify something, she should not have allowed him to sweet talk himself back into her good graces so easily. But knowing this and doing it were two different things entirely. Since then someone on Kadara had made a second attempt on her life, and having seen the barely concealed anger the first time she was shot on his turf, seen a momentary glimpse of a fury in his usually calm demeanour she'd never seen a lick of before, she could not kid herself anymore. As wily, alluringly, frustratingly astute as Reyes was she could not pretend that he knew nothing, had done nothing, about it. But this meant she had to allow into her conscious mind thoughts she had long suppressed. That he was just as much a heartless murderer as anyone else in the port. That once his desire for her eventually ebbed away he would use her affection for him as a weapon against the other gangs, against the Initiative, against anyone he chose. That he'd toss her away like he had Aria, Zia, like the countless ex-lovers he apparently had scattered about the port.
She kicked her foot agitatedly, a cascade of biotic energy accompanying her heel as it thumped against the side of the building where her legs dangled freely over the side.
"Sara, are you alright?" SAM asked, sounding more concerned than an AI really ought to.
"I… It's… This is all very hard."
"I understand."
He couldn't have failed to note the uneasy breaths such thoughts had caused. Or the loud thudding of her heart as the fear of it flooded her chest with anxious adrenaline. With a sigh she got to her feet, taking a steadying step back from the edge as she attempted to steady her muddled thoughts at the same time. Their relationship was different to the others, he had told her that himself. Reyes was not a man that opened up to anyone, and yet what he had shared with her about his father was painfully personal and had left him clearly vulnerable. He would not do that for no reason, not if she was just a casual fancy. She knew her instincts were right about that, at least, if nothing else. And she had meant it when she told Reyes that she felt safe with him. When she looked into those hypnotic golden eyes, she could not believe he meant her harm. Which meant she had to believe that Reyes was hiding something because he believed it was for her own good. She had to believe it.
Casting a parting gaze at the merchants setting up their stalls in the marketplace below her, Ryder padded her way back to Reyes' apartment, immerging only minutes later with lacquered eyes, red curls falling over her shoulders carelessly, and a determined crease between her eyebrows.
"What is our destination, Pathfinder?" SAM asked via their private channel.
"Kaetus."
As she descended the staircase at the foot of the building a Collective agent was waiting to accompany her, a turian with grey-green eyes, a pistol at his hip and a shotgun holstered at his back.
She had rather hoped that Reyes would have forgotten about their agreement in his haste to leave that morning. She didn't know whether she felt more dismayed at the further element of complication this added or comforted at it being important enough to him that he still remembered. Ryder nodded shortly to the turian as a sign that she accepted his presence, even if she didn't exactly like it, and she set off towards the Collective HQ with him stalking a few metres behind her.
"It's as we suspected. The stall attendants either don't know anything or they're too aware of how much shit they'd get into with the Collective to talk to anyone," Scott sighed down the comm, keeping his voice low as a passing krogan scrutinised him interestedly with her remaining eye.
Vetra made an exasperated sound under her breath. Drack's laughter, on the other hand, was almost deafening.
"You didn't just walk up and ask them, did you?" Drack responded and there was an echo as Cora's snigger was picked up by Drack's mic as well as her own.
Scott moved away from the stalls so he was out of earshot and back towards the entrance to the port, leaning against the low railing at the bottom of the stairs.
"Yeah, course I did," Scott deadpanned, "I also told them I was the Pathfinder's brother as well, and that's why I wanted to know."
"I bet he's even wearing Initiative uniform," Liam added, the mirth in his voice tangible.
"Was I not supposed to?" Scott grinned, his eyes scanning the crowd as they moved past him.
Kadara had been, still was, a bit of a shock to the system. Since Scott had awoken and finally been allowed to return to active duty (under the strict watch of Dr T'Perro) he'd visited a few planets with his sister. Although Havarl had been wilder and Elaaden more savage, Kadara was the most intriguing of the lot. Most intriguing because it was such a divisive topic amongst his new acquaintances on the Tempest. Peebee, the brilliantly quick-witted asari who he'd taken a liking to immediately, had commended it as the only port in Heleus where you could get a real drink, though she did admit she wasn't sure that this negated the smell of some of its residents. The old warrior Drack had romanticised it as a place where a person could be truly as they were, to do and be as he pleased, though he didn't have quite the soft spot for it he had for Elaaden. To them Kadara was freedom, with a welcome seasoning of chaos. On the other hand, Jaal and Liam, the members of the crew with perhaps the strongest senses of justice, were swift to voice their abject distaste of the port in its ability to swallow scores of people whole. To them Kadara was the epitome of corruption. So far Scott couldn't help but feel Jaal and Liam were right. Although he hadn't strayed further yet than the marketplace he'd already observed four pockets being slashed for the credit chits inside, two bouts of public urination and a salarian being beaten at gunpoint until he handed over his prosthetic leg. Clearly the glow in his sister's eyes, a glow that he hadn't yet observed in them other than on Kadara, had more to do with who resided on the planet than the planet itself.
More to do with the very man they were trying to avoid catching on to their investigation.
The very man that had the power to stop the petty crime rife in the marketplace, if he so chose.
But also the very man who had saved his sister's life more than once, if the other's accounts were true.
Scott's head hurt. It was almost enough to make a person want to go back to sleep for another 600 years.
But if he was ever to get to the bottom of it, and he felt as though he had to for his sister's sake, then sticking his head in the sand wouldn't do.
"Trust me, I haven't blown our cover. I've just poked around a bit, claimed I was looking to make a bit of money hunting outcasts. They bought it," Scott continued over the comm channel.
"Yes, because saying 'TRUST ME, I HAVEN'T BLOWN OUR COVER when surrounded by big groups of people that probably include Collective agents is a brilliant way to not blow our cover," Liam replied dryly.
"Besides, they probably just let you think they bought it," Vetra agreed, voice nearly obscured as there was more than one snort of mirth down the comm at Liam's words.
Scott shook his head with a smirk. If they really wanted to get under his skin, they'd have to work harder than that, "Look, do you want an update on what we're doing or not?"
"Sorry Scott, we'll stop teasing you." Despite her words, Cora didn't sound sorry at all as her voice betrayed her amusement, "Is there anything else?"
Scott's eyes drifted back over to his companion who was inspecting a gun rack whilst the salarian arms vendor watched the angaran closely, almost as though trying to place him, "Jaal's been investigating the serial numbers from the dead outcast's equipment, the ones you sent us Cora, to see if any of it was bought around here."
"Look, just be careful kid. Probably best not to ask any more questions, that goes for you too Jaal. Try the bar, Umi's place, hang around a bit. The local drinking well is usually the best place to be to catch people talking about things they shouldn't," Drack grunted.
Scott's eyes flicked to his omni-tool, "It's not even midday yet?"
He could almost hear the krogan shrug, "So? You're on Kadara."
Jaal scowled as he picked up an Isharay, turning it over in his hands. It was plain in his face what he thought about spending his afternoon in Kralla's Song, the grim downturn of his mouth visible even at this distance.
"Are you crazy? Pretty boy like Ryder will get eaten alive in there," a new voice rang out over the comm.
"Oh great," Liam groaned, sounding exasperated, "just when I'd managed to purge the sound of her voice from my mind."
"You know you love me, Kosta," came Peebee's breathy response.
"Late as usual," Jaal looked up as he said this, his eyes meeting Scott's for the first time. Scott had been fiddling with his hair idly, his concentration fixed on their conversation, combing back the chestnut locks that had crept out of place onto his forehead. Scott stopped abruptly beneath Jaal's gaze, his hand falling back to his side. A soft, amused smile flitted over the angaran's face.
"Late and yet still lightyears ahead of you guys," Peebee replied, gleefully, "Kallo told me everything, and I think I've already found something BIG. Chow, losers!"
Jaal had sidled over to join Scott on the stairs, his expression uncomfortable yet determined. He nodded toward the bar, "Shall we, then?"
As she broke off from the call, Cora looked over at Drack, an eyebrow raised, "Okay so the humming is getting a little annoying now."
Drack, who had been humming a jaunty tune under his breath, the way he always did when he had been concentrating down a scope for a while, leant back with a deep harrumphing sigh.
"I don't like this, they've barely moved for an hour," he passed the vanquisher rifle back to Cora, "and neither have we. My bones are starting to ache."
"You can manage a bit longer, old man," she replied, applying the nickname affectionately,
Despite her words Cora wriggled uncomfortably, repositioning her body along the rocky ground. They were both laid flat atop the crest of a hill, eyes fixed on the location of the crash site below.
She looked through the scope, focusing it on the two collective agents who were talking casually, shoulders together, every so often casting around their eyes for signs of anyone approaching, guns held in their relaxed grips.
"It doesn't make sense. They're not even doing anything, and there was no one here when I scouted the area yesterday. Why now?" Cora asked her companion, frustration creeping into her voice.
"It's obvious isn't it? The Charlatan must have suspected we'd come looking around and sent them to guard the place and report back to him if we did. He was pretty adamant the Initiative should stay out of it. The real question is why, what doesn't he want Ryder to know?" Drack responded, grimly.
Cora broke her vigil for a moment, taking in all the lines of the aged krogan's face, all his scars, "Do you think he means her harm?"
"I think a klixen doesn't stop breathing fire just because it burnt a few people. He's a liar, Harper."
Cora nodded. Truth be told, ever since Ryder had met the illusive smuggler Cora had had an ever-growing feeling of unease. He had always been too charismatic, too knowing, too smooth by far to be honest, and yet he still had enough of a warmth and humour about him that it made you want to deny such rational thinking. He had an easy appeal so strong you wanted to ignore that voice at the back of your mind that told you that it was only logical to distrust the de facto king of the exiles who was literally called the Charlatan and that had shot someone in the back right in front of you. And if this was enough to make Cora want to still like him, even given that she knew she shouldn't, there was no hope for her friend at all.
She thought of them then; the utter delight in Sara's expression when Reyes had surprised her on Meridian, and the way his fingers had found her shoulder and squeezed as though there was only her holding him in place.
"But, when they're together it seems… real," she wondered aloud, eyes flicking upward to the old krogan's face, as if hoping to find some hidden wisdom within its lines.
Drack shrugged, "Maybe he's that good a liar, or maybe you're right… I trust your instincts, they've never let us down in a fight, but even if he is sweet on her he's hiding something. Which probably makes whatever it is all the worse."
Cora swallowed, throat working over a lump of cold dread in her throat, "Why is that worse?"
"Well, our pathfinder generally has a pretty strong sense of justice and yet somehow he managed to get away with murder in front of her. So if he's scared of losing her over it, enough to go to these lengths to conceal it, it has to be something even worse than assassinating Sloane."
Cora nodded, her eyes returning to her vigil. She didn't much feel like talking after that.
"There's a lot of comm chatter on the Tempest channel, Pathfinder."
"Oh?" Ryder replied as she walked through the plaza that enclosed Kadara Port's marketplace. She glimpsed the backs of two incredibly familiar figures exiting the area into Kralla's Song, "Does it have anything to do with Jaal, and my brother, going into a bar that the former once said he enjoyed visiting as much receiving a face full of kaerkyn spit?"
"That seems likely, Sara."
"Mmm."
"I thought Mr Vidal didn't want the Initiative investigating the matter."
"Well, Mr Vidal isn't here," Ryder murmured so her turian tail wouldn't catch it, "and what exactly are they up to?
"Their omni-tools indicate several members of the crew left the Tempest 1 hour and 42 minutes ago for different locations within and outside the port. Currently, Vetra and Specialist Kosta are at the relief centre outside Tartarus. Drack is out in the badlands with Lieutenant Harper - I believe they are the crash site of your shuttle. Specialist Ryder and Jaal - he arrived several hours ago - spent some time here in the markets before entering Kralla's Song as you observed."
"So much for not trampling all over…" Ryder smirked, the closest thing to a smile she had managed all morning, "the crash site, the markets, the bar, I get… But the relief centre? Interesting."
"Unfortunately, I have no more data. Any assertions as to their reasons for being there would be purely speculative."
As they passed through the sliding doors to the Collective HQ she nodded, "Thanks SAM, keep an eye on them all, will you?"
"Of course."
As she reached the door to the Collective cell block Ryder motioned for her escort to wait for her there, outside the room. After a moment's pause and a thoughtful look, he nodded and stood sentry against the opposing wall. She was surprised by the turian's easy acquiescence, before he pressed a few dials on his omni-tool and the amber display was filled with what appeared to be surveillance of the interior of the cell block. She could just make out the shady figure of Kaetus amongst the empty cells.
"Did you really think the Charlatan would leave you in there alone with him?" he asked her lazily, mandibles clicking in a tone that she was not familiar with but that reminded her of a tut.
Now, did Reyes not want her alone in there because of what she might uncover? Or because he was worried about her safety? Both, perhaps? Caught by the double meaning of his words she stared at the turian. The grey-green eyes flicked back up to hers and he cocked an eyebrow in question, as though asking her what she was waiting for.
When she entered the room Kaetus was already on his feet, leaning against the bars. He was inspecting the talons on of one of his hands disinterestedly, his expression nonchalant as he looked over at her. It was like he had known she was coming and was waiting for her. She tried not to let the disquiet this caused show on her face.
"Well, aren't I special? Another visit from the Pathfinder," Kaetus folded his arms, eyes glinting at her between the bars. He looked no less worse for wear than the last time she had seen him. Reyes had kept to his word. "Your presence here must be costing the Charlatan a small fortune."
"Cut the crap, Kaetus."
"No, no I'm serious. I bet your hourly rate went right up after defeating the Archon," he sneered, revealing the sharpness of his front teeth, "that is unless the Charlatan is paying you in other means. Unless there's a more personal reason for you to be running around like a little lapdog."
His tone started off as speculative and ended accusing.
Ryder wasn't about to take the bait, however, "You were right about one thing, my time is precious so I'll keep this short. What do you know about the Outcasts targeting me?"
Kaetus' face betrayed none of his feelings, though the narrow slits of his eyes never left hers, "And why do you think I would have anything to do with it?"
Ryder raised an eyebrow, "Name one person in the galaxy that despises me more than you."
"Well, you have me there, but then," he leant closer, slate grey eyes cast black in the low light, and despite herself Ryder leant closer too, "there's still the slight issue of my being in here, and them being out there."
"Whilst that is something of a conundrum, it's nothing that someone who was Sloane's right-hand man couldn't figure out, surely?"
The mention of Sloane's name caused an involuntary spasm of what looked like grief to cross the turian's face, and she didn't need Sam's voice in her head reminding her that Sloane was Kaetus' weakness, his pressure point. His body language had betrayed that much already.
"I'll hand it to you, Ryder, you're not as stupid as most of the humans I've met. Neither is the Charlatan, but that won't save either of you in the end."
Time to poke her finger right into that pressure point. And twist in the nail.
"Clever, trying to fool me into confirming the Charlatan's identity. Statistically I suppose it is likely the Charlatan is human, but I'm not going to confirm or deny that," she leant a hand against the bars, cold metal against clammy flesh, her face close enough she could see the hairline scars that tracked down the slanting bridge of his nose. "It is sad that cleverness wasn't enough to save Sloane though, isn't it? You can't blame me half as much as you blame yourself, I mean, you were the one so weak you got yourself beaten up by the Charlatan's thugs, leaving poor Sloane defenceless-"
Ryder was cut off as she grimaced and Kaetus emitted a roaring snarl. Reactions faster than hers had allowed him time to grasp her hand beneath his and bore his talons into her flesh, pinning her fingers against the bars. Ryder rocked backwards sharply on her heels, pain escaping her lips in a hiss as the weight of her body was not enough to break the ferocity of his grip. This motion only forced hot blood to ebb from the cuts, trickling over her knuckles and down her wrist. The predatory glimmer she had observed in Kaetus' eyes last time had returned in all its heat, holding her in place almost as firmly as the strength of his digits over her hand, "I do blame you. You and your Charlatan. But soon enough you and he will both be dead; all I need to decide is which of you gets the pleasure of watching the light leave the other one's eyes."
Ryder was vaguely aware of the door opening and her turian escort shouting something. But neither her nor Kaetus' gaze wavered from the other's face. For a moment all that there was, was the bloody beat of her pulse in her hand, the scorch of his eyes and the certainty that radiated from their centre.
Kaetus had meant every word he had said and believed with an absoluteness that he could bring such things to pass.
Then there was another shout from behind her and Kaetus loosened his grip. Ryder fell gasping onto the hard floor, making a sore note in her throat as she enclosed her fingers over the deep grooves the talons had left in her knuckles. A hand was on her shoulder, steadying her, and she glanced up quickly to see her turian escort. In his other hand he had his pistol pointed at Kaetus, who had backed away from the bars, but only by a fraction.
"Pathfinder?"
There was something in her escort's expression that looked like genuine concern, although she couldn't be completely sure it wasn't simply fear of potential repercussions of her getting hurt on his watch.
"Just scratches… he's a real teddy bear that one…"
Her escort looked down at her hand doubtfully, blood was dripping through her fingers and onto the tiled floor.
"We should go," he muttered uncomfortably, gaze hardening as it shifted to Kaetus. "The Charlatan will deal with you later."
Ryder shook her head, shifting her weight forward as she got back to her feet and grinning despite the rawness of her wounds, "No need, we already got what we needed."
"Bleat all the assurances you like Pathfinder. They're dead words from dead lips, nothing more."
There was a note of panic in her escort's voice now, as though he knew this was all very much above his paygrade and he wished no further part in it, "C'mon!"
He grabbed her shoulder and manoeuvred her not roughly but firmly from the room. She did not break eye contact with Kaetus until she absolutely had to.
Before the doors closed she heard Kaetus call to her finally, "You'll see, next time we meet."
Before she had time to piece together anything close to a sensical thought about all that had just happened she was faced by the ever-unflappable Keema Dohrgun stood in the hallway waiting for them.
"Hello dear, making friends I see?" she stared pointedly at Ryder's hand, a smile pinching at the corner of her lips.
Ryder grinned back, "I think I'm getting as good at it as Reyes."
"Oh, I do hope it's not as bad as all that," she leaned forward and took hold of Ryder's arm companionably.
Personal space clearly didn't exist in Keema's reality. Ryder wasn't sure why that didn't seem to bother her much, or why she was allowing her to steer her so easily where Keema so chose.
"This way, we'll get that nasty injury patched up. It seems it was worth it though?"
Her inflection didn't change much when she spoke, Ryder realised. Perhaps that was what had made her such a fantastic double agent. Her unwavering geniality made her very hard to read.
"You were listening?"
"Naturally."
Together they entered through the doorway to the main hallway, where Keema so often sat in Sloane's old throne. It had been cleared entirely of its regular visitors, and there was a calmness to its emptiness, the light from the large windows only allowed in at intervals through the slatted shutters. Keema guided her towards a seat and Ryder realised she was glad of it, the implications of Kaetus' words and the ache in her hand stealing away the sureness of her steps.
Kaetus knew…
But no sooner had she lowered herself into the chair, Keema fussing with Ryder's bloodstained sleeve as she rolled it to her elbow, when the doors to the hall opened again. The welcome silence of the room was broken immediately.
"Sara!"
His voice reached her before she caught sight of him and when she did he was a whirlwind of gesturing arms and furrowed black eyebrows and a hand bunching frustratedly in his raven dark hair. And Reyes was in front of her far too quickly than it was fair for him to be, arms crossed and attractive and livid and… worried?
"What the actual FUCK Sara Ryder?"