"Before we keep this up, did you have any intention of sharing some sort of pleasantries during your stay? You know, 'Aria, you're looking ravishing this evening,' or 'it gets me hot the way you order people around?' You know, something I'm used to. Take it easy on me, Shepard. I'm out of my element. It's not everyday I find a victim to inflict my soul-spilling onto."

"Will you shut it," those emeralds rolled. Speckled jewels and all, Shepard's eyes and the several languages they could convey had always been a redeeming feature to Aria. They could swell and disperse in a matter of heartbeats, throwing you for a loop that bought her enough time to sneak a peak into your head. A hanar could faint if lucky enough to get caught in the gall of a wink; Aria herself had been thrown momentarily a time or two by their steadfast in a heated discussion during a few of the Commander's first visits to Afterlife. Purgatory had been the worst she'd ever gotten it. Shepard, passed out from too much of a good time on the cushion beside her. Aria, feeling atypically protective, had seen to it that she be deposited there rather than sent back with her cohorts to the Normandy. She was sure they could see to her safe arrival, but why deprive herself of the look of shock and recognition that would greet her upon the commander's awakening? In the end, it had been the asari who'd been disarmed. Groggy Shepard had sent her reeling, a long-forgotten memory of a young, pale woman cocooned in a pile of just as pale silk flickering in the depths of her subconscious. Skin and fabric had no beginning and no end. But that mop. The just-fucked mane and smoldering coals peering out between two heavy lids had done things to the queen's insides. Congealed intestines had made concentration on her work impossible that day. And seeing Shepard rouse, confused, hung-over, and looking just as tousled as anyone could in public while still looking presentable had brought it all back.

But today wasn't a day for celebrating the woman striding beside her. A different woman, the woman as she'd been for a while, was waiting for the last goodbye she and her ex-lover would ever exchange. Today was for any and all that had been victim to the Cerberus occupation of Omega. Aria had promised them time to mourn once every last Cerberus fuck was off her station, and she always made good on her word. Scattered thoughts eventually landed on the last time she'd spoken face to face with Nyreen. A crystal clear image accompanied the exchange, and Aria was lost to it.

Shepard and Nyreen were busy bonding over saving insignificant lives when Bray had patched in. But that was their way; both of them were highly predictable in their wanton heroics no matter how many wrenches they threw into her plans. And, as was her luck today, Bray had nothing but shit news to deliver, souring her mood all the more. Cerberus meant to keep them out no matter what, even if it involved blowing Omega's central support columns. Besides the obvious defacing of her property, this also blocked their path to Petrovsky's base of operations - an insult in itself, as it was Aria's most valued establishment.

"Bray, engage! Delay them as long as you can. We're coming."

"Got it. Roll out, people!" her comm shot back at her.

Turning to face her two companions, Aria's anticipation mounted. They needed a new plan of attack to deal with the ramifications of such an opposition. "If they detonate the main column, they'll cut off the way to Afterlife! The Talon offensive will be stopped cold."

That got Shepard's attention. The battle strategist that she was, she knew that the Talons were their best way to forge a path to the club, and that in order to do so they'd need a leader who knew what the hell they were doing. "So we split up."

"Yes. Nyreen, lead the frontal assault. Shepard and I will meet you in the markets after we've taken care of those bombs."

"Of course, but don't count on me building your memorials if you get yourselves killed."

Where the asari were the sensuous sirens of the space-age, able to delve into a willing-enough soul and bend it as they saw fit, sub-harmonics were the disarming harpy's cry of the turians. Nyreen was the Aello to her Lorelei, each vixen complimenting the other. And that voice did something to quicken her heart rate once again as her long lost but not forgotten Kandros punched in the access panel scramble code.

She'd hardly thought about it at the time; the words were there and she spoke them, honest and light.

"I like it when you're feisty." With a wink, the coquette dissipated and Aria was all business once more, Nyreen never having commented on the gesture.

But now all those little questions began buzzing around her head like gnats. Nyreen had been turned, holding Aria's gaze at the time. She'd seen and heard her completely, but with neither reciprocation nor admonishment. Could she have, after all this time, still held feelings and assumed her acknowledgement of them was implied? Or had she remained silent for a reason? Had life as being Aria T'Loak's lover left so many scars that she'd thrown herself at the adjutants intentionally rather than live through the hellish ordeal once more? Was it her fault the woman she used to care for had taken her own life?

"Aria? I didn't mean literally, you know."

Shepard's voice ripped through her haunted musings. At some point they had made their way into one of the desolate back rooms the pirate queen used for her more delicate meetings and were now sauntering around like lost puppies. Green and blue oculars met, the latter forced to look away. There had never been a time she'd taken her own body and the many perks it served, carnal and otherwise, more for granted than when she envied Shepard the ability to hide behind the curtain of her bangs. Aria's frustration only mounted as she bowed her head from view, resolving herself to her usual seat on the lounge at the far end of the lackluster grotto. Though she felt like a stranger in her own body, it felt good to keep her rhythms. Some things never changed.

"I told you. I'm out of sorts." It was an understatement, but felt good to say aloud nonetheless. "I'll be fine once today's over and done with."

"Who're you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?"

"Spare me the thrills of having my brain picked apart," condescension droned with each syllable. "After all the people you've buried, I'd have thought you'd understand my current plight better than anyone. I need to get this over with and out of my system. Until then, I'm in limbo. But then I'll head right back to my own little shadowy corner of hell. Right where I belong." A slight smirk accentuated the latter, comfort borne of the knowledge that she'd return to her own botched spiral of suffering, but at least it would be the one forged and chosen by her. She had control over it, and was therefore comfortable enduring it.

The raven-topped enigma at her right advanced slowly to the middle of the room. "You were thinking about her."

It wasn't a question, but she answered nonetheless. "I need to bury her, Shepard. Along with all the memories from reclaiming this pit. We're not going to move on until we have this dealt with. Give me some credit, Shepard; what would you do if Vakarian died right before your eyes and you knew with every fiber of your being it didn't have to end that way?"

Shepard's ambling stopped on a dime. Rather than hiding behind those same bangs Aria longed for, she kept her facade within scrutinizing view as it was silently dissected. Blank eyes never held so much emotion; there was confirmation, the recognition of a forgotten wound being rediscovered. Had she unknowingly hit an unseen trigger?

"Do you ever dream about her?" the commander called to the asari in hushed tones, who leaned back into her cushions, defiant to allow another weakness.

"I'd hardly call that a dream."

A sharp cock of Shepard's head and their gaze met once more. "I'm serious."

"So am I. Though I'd think it a normal reaction to losing someone you once cared about, wouldn't you?"

And then the flicker of understanding was gone, replaced with something less potent. "I guess."

"Why? Been having trouble sleeping lately, Shepard."

Though she was enjoying the reversal, Aria was only half-teasing. What was Shepard playing at? To her displeasure, a disinterested shrug was her response. Whatever had been on the forefront of her thoughts a moment ago had been banished from the surface. "I'd hardly call it sleeping if that were the case."

Stymied, she tried a different approach. "Ok, so you're not sleeping. Due to these dreams you're having about dead people. Anyone in particular? Nyreen?" Aria piqued.

"No. Just - nevermind," Shepard sighed. "Here I'm trying to help you come to terms and you're-"

"Alright, next subject then." She wasn't about to have a pity party. "How are the troops I sent you working out?"

"We've been bringing them up to speed, though they're already surprisingly well-informed." The commander was back, business as usual. God, her and Nyreen must've been sewn from the same pillar of army-grade silk. "Your shipments raised a lot of eyebrows too, but beggars can't be choosers nowadays."

"So I hear. You've got a master thief running errands for you, the last surviving member of what was thought to be an extinct race and the Shadow Broker on board your ship for convenience's sake, not to mention the best fleets the galaxy has to offer ready to ask 'how high' when you yell 'jump.' I have to say, I'm impressed. And Petrovsky?" Aria's could feel her eyes harden as the name rolled off her tongue. "You'd better tell me keeping the skin on his bones paid off."

"And thensome," Shepard assured. "His intel has crippled some of Cerberus' most vital operations and strike-forces. He was only too happy to tell us all he knew, so naturally we cross-referenced every piece to make sure it was genuine. The Illusive Man's foothold is slipping."

Aria shook her head, unsatisfied. "He should have bled, had it tortured out of him. The conviction in their eyes when they're sure you're just about to kill them is beautifully bittersweet. If you army brats are worried about getting your hands dirty, I'm sure I can find someone."

Twinkling, pleading eyes didn't break Shepard. "The longer we keep him alive, the more we can pump out of him when shit hits the fan. Besides, you have what you came for restored. Omega's yours again, we have vital intel to cut Cerberus down a few pegs-"

"And it all came at too high a price," Aria spat. "It's as if you don't really need my corps after all."

"I was getting to that," Shepard reasoned. "Why, you need them back?"

"Please," she scoffed. "Our fight on the homefront's over. And, as you've already illustrated, you need someone to do your dirty work for you. Besides, a deal's a deal. I owe you." Her thoughts, as well as her words, trailed off slightly.

"Every bit helps. Just know if you need anything from us, we'll do our best."

Aria stood, heading for the doorway. She'd had enough with the semantics, and it was nearly time for the ceremony to start. "You've helped me once already and dredged up a significantly large part of my past only to have it stamped out for good. I'd say you've done more than enough."