"Aria's your mother?" Shepard fought off shock's pale, clammy hands, trying not to let it show as the asari gripped her gaze like a lifeline. After a moment, the captain nodded. "Of course. I'll go tell her on my way back to the ship." Forcing a veneer smile onto her lips, Shepard patted the girl's hand. "You just take it as easy as you can. You're safe now, and we'll have people here to help you very soon."
Releasing Liselle, Shepard spun and strode out, trying to look confident and reassuring. She managed to hold on until she made it out of sight before breaking into a run. Sprinting straight through gardens, leaping over plants, she reached the sewer tunnels and swing the door shut before her stomach overrode her control and began to heave. Water and bile poured out, splashing on her feet, but she barely felt it through the storm cloud broiling in her thoughts, all lightning and downdrafts threatening to blow out the back of her skull. She heard the door squeak open, and a strong, gentle hand pressed between her shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles that eased the knives stabbing into her skull and her guts.
"Just when you think you've reached the limit of the horrors sapient beings can visit on one another," Garrus said, his words a whisper of fresh air through the fetid dankness.
Heaving until turning inside out became a real concern, Shepard fought to purge the greasy, rotten sewage at the heart of her. "Jesus Christ, C-Sec . . . Aria . . . did she . . .?" Despite starting to voice the terrible, impossible suspicion that a violet hand spent the night dancing her around Omega like a marionette in a puppet theatre, she swallowed the words, unspoken. First things first. The victims needed to be taken down, extracted from those damned sarcophagi and moved to a hospital.
She swiped at the blood dripping off her eyebrow. "Is there anyone or any facilities here to help them? Emergency services? Hospitals? Ambulance?"
"On Omega?" Massani scoffed, stepping through the door. "Not bloody likely. If the Suns let us get emergency services in, Aria would probably consider it a kindness to put them all down. Well, except for hers, I'd wager." He looked back through the door. "How many are there? Twenty-five or so?" A rough grumble followed a sigh as a grimace twisted his scarred face. "You've got a fast ship? Good medic?"
Shepard nodded and reached out a hand, bracing against the slimy wall. "Yeah. She's got her hands full at the moment, but yeah, we have a great doc, and a decent medic."
"Get yourself back to your ship, prepare for incoming. If your doc could come down and help here, we might spare these poor, bloody girls a bit of suffering." The merc turned away. "I ran into some old special forces buddies earlier. They're used to situations of an unusual and . . . messy nature. Well . . .." He cleared his throat. ". . . bloody hell, it's not like anyone could be prepared for something like this, but they've done some unusual covert extractions. We'll get the ladies out of this hellhole and onto your ship without drawing any attention."
Shepard stared at him for a long time, not sure why she trusted the surly old fellow with the terrible scars, but something told her he was okay. "All right. Ship's name is the Normandy." She held her hand out, gripping his in a tight shake. "On your way out, there's a painting of a garden full of asari statues on the sitting room wall. Grab it. It should cover your expenses." She shrugged. "There's a sculpture in there, too . . . a skinny head with a long, thin nose . . . sorta weird looking. It should pay your buddies extremely well to take extra care with those girls."
"A strange head?" His face twisted like he thought she was lying. "Why would they want that?"
"Well, it's up to them, but it's worth about eight hundred million credits, as many as a billion if you find the right auction." She nodded at the shock on his face.
"Bloody hell. How much is the painting worth?" Massani scratched the back of his head and cocked an eyebrow.
Shepard winked, managing a weak smile. "Trust me, take the painting. Just don't try to sell it on an asari world. The painter is somewhat infamous."
He shrugged. "All right, if you say so. Thanks, sweetheart."
Shepard shook her head and turned back to the sewers and the mansion beyond. "Name's Shepard, twinkletoes. Captain Jane Shepard." She shot him a sardonic grin at his cuss and waved to Garrus. "Come on, Brother C-Sec, let's keep moving. I'm ready for this night to be over." She waved off his offer of support, taking the lead back to the house. The thought of those poor girls waiting for rescue alone tore up her guts like an industrial shredder, and molten shame burned under her skin as she walked the other way. But right then, the need to run became a charging krogan, catapulting everything else aside. A few moments. She just needed a few moments and some space to get her head straight . . . not to mention that her feet begged for decent shoes.
Halfway back to the little door, she glanced behind her, meeting Garrus's eyes. "I know I told Liselle that I'd talk to her mother before heading to the ship, but I might need to do some thinking before I deal with Aria."
Garrus rumbled an oath. "We'll be heading out for the Citadel as soon as we get the girls aboard? Maybe best to get it over with tonight. I'll go with you, we'll just tell her where Liselle is going and get out. If she did manage to set you up to kill that bastard, we can untangle that rope after some sleep."
Shepard nodded, not surprised that he also suspected Aria of setting them up to take out her daughter's abductor. "Okay, that sounds like a plan. God, we're days from actually getting any sleep, aren't we?" She yawned, then pulled away from him to duck through the little doorway into the sitting room. Walking only far enough into the room that Garrus could get through the door, she stopped and looked around. "All this rich beauty hiding such ugly depravity."
"This art belongs in a museum, Shepard," Garrus whispered, looking around the sitting room. "There must be twenty billion credits worth of treasures here." He walked over to a figure made out of spun glass worked with threads of gold and other metals. "This is hyalus, Shepard, and really old by the look of it. It's illegal to own the ancient pieces, they're protected turian cultural artifacts."
A Blue Sun walked into the room, his assault rifle hanging slack from his hand. Shepard looked up, so stiff with fury that she expected to hear her joints creak. "Get out of here. Your boss is dead. If you knew about his little garden of torture down there, you'd better grab your cronies and run like hell before I decide to do a little housecleaning. That is the position I came here to interview for, after all." She met the batarian's eyes, his death hanging so close in her stare that his ruddy skin blanched almost white. She nodded to Garrus. "If he isn't gone in ten seconds, put a bullet through his skull."
"Yes, ma'am." He shrugged his assault rifle into his hands, holding it in a relaxed grip.
The batarian turned and fled.
"Take the rest of your colleagues with you!" she yelled after him.
Shepard forgot him the moment he left her line of sight, too many other things to worry about. "Sweet baby Jesus, C-Sec. As if we don't already have enough to deal with." She ran her hand through her hair. "Okay, I'll have the crew crate the art and the books up, turn it over to the proper authorities." She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "Otherwise, it'll end up being scavenged and used to fund who knows how much criminal shit on this bloody rock. When we get to the Citadel, we'll make sure it gets back where it belongs."
She lifted a hand to her ear, opening a channel to Kaidan. He and the others had just returned to the Normandy, so she had them head over. Then she contacted Dr. Chakwas.
"How is Nihlus doing, Doc?" she asked, flopping into the artist's chair, filthy feet splayed, knees stuck together. "Good, that's a relief." She let out a long breath. "We fell into a nightmare here, Doc."
"I'm going to sweep the house, Shepard," Garrus said. "Clear out the staff."
She nodded and mouthed for him to be careful. "Well, we found a sick son of a bitch who has been abducting young women, breaking their limbs, starving them and turning them into living sculptures. They're still alive, but are a huge mess and encased in stone and plaster. We have people coming to get them unmounted and to the Normandy, but if you could come help when you're done with Nihlus . . .."
The Captain sat forward, her forearms on her knees as Dr. Chakwas assured her that she would come as quickly as possible. Shepard looked up as Zaeed ducked through the door. After a second, he wandered over to the painting she'd told him to take.
"Thanks, Doc. You shouldn't have any problem getting into the district. I'll have a squad escort you from the ship. Is Ashley up? Great, thanks. See you soon." Shepard changed the channel to the chief, putting her in charge of turning the cargo bay into a hospital ward. When she was finished, she looked up at Zaeed. "All right, let's get these wheels in motion. Can some of your buddies get my people past the Suns?"
"Sure thing, Shepard." His chuckle reminded her of Wrex. Hitching a thumb over his shoulder at the painting, he gave her a crooked grin. "I like it. Might not sell it." The grin twisted a bit, the scars around his eye caving into grisly shadow. "Jessie 'n me could use a bit of culture."
Standing, Shepard took a couple of steps toward the merc. "Seemed like you knew who we were dealing with. I was told his name was Patrick Donovan." Cocking a hip, she crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.
He nodded and turned to look at his painting. "Yeah. Real name was Hock. Slimy merc bastard. Made a fortune causing problems all over the Terminus. Kick the wasps nest, then step in on whichever side offered him the most cash."
"Seemed personal."
Grunting in agreement, he turned back. "Yeah, bastard financed operations for an old friend that I'm looking to catch up to." Spinning on his heel, he strode for the door. "Better get moving."
Shepard followed him out of the house, grabbing her boots from the car. Returning inside, she found a sink and sat on the counter to wash her feet before slipping them on. Someone needed to stay with the girls until Dr. Chakwas arrived.
Garrus chuckled when she walked into the sitting room. "That dress is suddenly a lot more you. The dried blood is a nice touch too."
She elbowed him. "Do you mind supervising getting all this loaded on the Normandy? Ash is getting a ward set up for the girls in the cargo bay."
"With all this freight, the girls and the quarians, we're going to be a full boat," he said, looking around.
She covered a yawn. "Yeah, and we need to keep the quarians on board. Well, the admiral anyway. I'll make arrangements to get the kids back to the flotilla until we get our hands on Saren." She shook her head. "We wasted a hell of a lot of time here, C-Sec." She chuffed in the back of her throat. "Well, I can't say wasted, exactly."
He nodded. "We'll make it up." He gestured toward the wall of paintings. "I'll take care of this. Shouldn't take us long if Massani's people can get us past the Suns. Damned mercs are a menace."
"Thanks." A smile passed over her face as wan and ephemeral as mist. "I'll be back out and ready to go see Aria once the doc gets here."
"Hey, Shepard." She turned back as Garrus's call stopped her just inside the door. "How'd you know about the art and books?"
A secretive smile tweaked the corner of her mouth. "I'm an enigma, C-Sec." She ducked through the little door and headed back down the filthy passage to the sewers.
Shepard's omnitool told her it was just after noon Normandy time when she stopped at the bottom of the stairs to Aria's little bunker inside Afterlife. No doubt the asari had known the second she arrived, so every moment Shepard hesitated before going up told Aria far more than she wanted to give away. She could feel Garrus behind her, patient but tense, vigilant as he scanned the crowd.
After another deep breath, Shepard lifted her foot onto the first step and started up. Aria stood as she had the last time, facing out over her court.
"I see you decided to relax a little and enjoy Omega's nightlife." The asari turned and cocked her head, a wolf's smile curling one side of her mouth as her gaze slid up Shepard's body, a pair of cool, invisible hands. "When you let your hair down, you don't hold back, do you?" She raised one delicate brow. "Those boots really don't do you justice, though. Legs like that should be showcased."
Shepard felt Garrus push up on her from behind and pressed a palm behind her to ease him back. "Yeah, well, I got psychotic lunatic blood and sewage all over the heels. Didn't feel much like wearing them after that. I tell you, Omega sure knows how to show a girl a good time. I can't remember having so much fun."
Aria's only reaction was a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.
"But, I'm afraid I can't spend any longer indulging my party girl side. Time to go," Shepard said, keeping her voice even but not bothering to hide her fatigue. "Liselle asked me to let you know that we're giving her a ride to the Citadel on the Normandy. She can rest from her long days and even longer nights of partying there." She shrugged. "Unless you have somewhere you'd rather she go?"
Aria's eyes locked on Shepard's, not a single emotion showing anywhere on that cold, elegant face. Her eyes, on the other hand, spoke volumes. A slight shrug told Shepard what she needed to know.
"All right." Shepard turned and nodded for Garrus to precede her down. "I'm exhausted. So much fun. See you the next time I'm in town, Aria. We can go out together." Shepard slapped Garrus on the shoulder. "How about you, Brother Garrus? Enjoy your night?"
"More than I can express," he replied.
Shepard grinned. She needed a shower and to get changed before the first girls started arriving on the ship. Sleep wouldn't hurt either, but that would have to wait.
"Shepard?" Aria called as the captain moved to descend the second set of steps. When Shepard turned, the asari held her with an eerily open stare for a moment, then nodded.
Shepard returned it, knowing it was as close to a thank you as Aria would allow herself.
Shepard's omnitool told her that evening had arrived on the Normandy when she finally walked into medbay, carrying a clear case under one arm. The salarian doctor, Mordin, looked up from packing his kit.
"Finally able to get back to your clinic?" Shepard asked.
"All patients settled," the salarian reported when he turned and spotted her. "Nihlus doing well, better than expected. Very resilient. Females need to go to Citadel, receive proper care as soon as possible."
She nodded. "We're on our way once we get clearance." Stepping up to him, she held out her hand. "Thank you so much for all your help, Dr. Solus. Dr. Chakwas says that Nihlus wouldn't have made it without your expertise. And I know we would have never gotten the women triaged and stabilized as quickly if you hadn't helped."
"Glad to be of assistance. Believed women going to their deaths inside that gate. Never imagined anything like this. Barbaric. Death sometimes kinder. Galaxy owes you debt for putting a bullet through his skull." He strode to the medbay door, pausing to shake Dr. Chakwas's hand. "Pleasure working with you, doctor. Will forward my notes for our paper. Revolutionize treatment of turian crush victims."
Shepard chuckled wearily, wanting to know where the salarian got all his energy. She lifted a hand as he glanced her way before hurrying out the door.
Dr. Chakwas turned to face Shepard, a wry smile on her handsome, exhausted face. "Quite the couple of days, Shepard." She pointed to a chair. "Sit, so I can look at your head."
Shepard plopped into a chair. "That it has been, Doc. How are the ladies holding up?" She let out a little, pained hiss as the doctor parted her hair to prod the wound.
"Not well." The doctor cursed. "I can't even begin to comprehend what they've been through. There wasn't a trace of analgesic medication in their blood. That monster . . .." Instead of completing the thought, Chakwas let out a thin, enraged growl. "Dr. Solus and I gave most of them heavy doses of pain medication, but a couple were so badly broken that I just induced a medical coma before we started to work. Years of rehab await most of them. Judging by the degree of healing, some of them have been there for more than a year."
Shepard winced at that. How had they borne the pain and madness for so long? "Have you found a hospital to take them?
"Huerta Memorial has agreed to take all the victims, but they're nervous about the cost, Shepard. Perhaps we should spread them out over several hospitals?" Dr. Chakwas poked and prodded Shepard's head as she spoke, the pain easing as she did. Patting the captain's shoulder, she said, "All done. You have a remarkably hard head."
Shepard chuckled. "Not the first time I've heard that. Thanks, Doc." She stood and turned to face Chakwas. "Is Huerta the best care possible?" Losing the pain in her head untied all the knots that had kept her upright. Her entire body sagged, feeling as though it would melt down into a puddle on the deck plating.
"Yes. It has all the best surgeons, but it's expensive."
Shepard held out the case she'd been carrying under her arm. "I thought that might be a problem. Here, I think this should cover all the medical bills Huerta could incur while healing and rehabilitating our ladies."
Dr. Chakwas stared at the book contained within the hermetic case for a moment. "De Hortus Sanitatis?" She looked up at Shepard and shook her head. "This disappeared a hundred years ago, stolen from the University of Aberdeen's collection, I believe. How?"
"Our artist had expensive tastes. Anyway, that should about cover it, don't you think?" She pushed a chair over next to Nihlus, plopping into it hard enough that it rolled back into the next bed. "So, how's our patient doing, Doc?"
"He should be up by the day after tomorrow. He shouldn't do anything more energetic than walking and light stretching for a week, though." The doctor yawned. "All right. I'm going to check on the patients in the cargo bay one more time, then get a couple hours sleep."
"Rest well, Doc. You deserve it. You did some amazing work over the last couple of days." Shepard watched the doctor leave, then leaned back and closed her eyes. Muscles she hadn't heard from since basic training had set up a complaints department. At the end of a couple of very long bloody couple of days, the best she could say was that they hadn't lost anyone. They were no closer to catching Saren than they'd been when they arrived on Omega.
"Hey, Skipper?"
Shepard sighed and leaned forward, her elbows sharp and tacky on her thighs. She really needed a shower. "What's up, Chief?"
"Vakarian just left the ship. He said he needed to pick up some supplies and would be back in twenty. I sent Wrex and Tenaka with him, just in case. Thought you should know, ma'am."
"Thanks, Ash. How are things down there?"
"We've got everyone settled. I've started rotating people off to eat and sleep. I want to have someone sitting with all the women who are awake."
"Excellent. Good thinking, Chief. Get some rest. We'll be at the Citadel in about fifteen hours. Depends how long before we get clearance to leave Omega."
"Roger that. Goodnight, ma'am."
"Goodnight, Chief. Shepard out." She closed that channel and opened another. "Hey, Brother C-Sec, you going UA?"
The turian's warm, throaty laugh relaxed her further down into the chair. "No, ma'am. My CO gave me an order to pick up some rations while we were docked here, but then this lunatic prostitute grabbed me and dragged me along on her vigilante crusade."
Despite Shepard trying to maintain a straight face, a snicker crept out. "Why do I allow you to get away with such blatant insubordination?"
"My rakish good looks and natural charm." He chuckled, but then cleared his throat. "I'll be back aboard in under ten minutes, Captain. Just needed to pick up a small dose of normalcy and sanity after last night."
She sighed, long and exhausted. "And here I didn't even know they were for sale. Grab me an order of both while you're at it, will you?"
"Hell, I'll grab you two orders of sanity. You can use all you can get." Despite his words, his tone remained warm and serious. "Be back in ten, Shepard."
"Be careful, Shepard out."
Letting out a long breath, Shepard opened her eyes to see Nihlus's green gaze watching her. A bright, relieved smile pushed back her weariness. "Well, hey there, handsome. How are you feeling?"
His mandibles fluttered a little. "Handsome?"
She winced at the weakness in his voice, the slight gurgle as he breathed. "Oh, don't let that go to your head. It's just what I call all of my turian Spectre partners who have been crushed by rampaging krogan and nearly died." She slid her hand under the blanket to grasp his talons.
"There have been a lot of us?" A soft chuckle chased the words from his mouth, a coughing spasm overtaking it.
She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb and grinned. "You wouldn't believe how many."
"I might." His eyes drifted closed. "The salarian doc told me what you did to get him here. Pretty crazy, Shepard."
"Ah, it was just a little game of dress up." Her throat closed up tight as all the crazy, sad, disappointing, intense horror of the day caught up with her. Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand.
"You look . . .." His voice trailed off.
"Like a whore, yeah, I know." A long, soft whistle of sound escaped with her sigh. "I'll explain it all when you're up on your feet." Giving his fingers a gentle squeeze, she tucked them back under the blanket. "For now, just get some sleep. You need your rest."
He shook his head a fraction of an inch one way then back and opened his eyes. "I was going to say that you look unbelievably beautiful." His mandibles fluttered. "Also exhausted. Go get some sleep, yourself."
"Beautiful? How much pain medication does the doc have you on, Kryik?" Shepard stood, leaning over him a little.
"Not enough to miss what's right in front of my eyes." His mandibles fluttered a little, and he seemed to drift off.
She sighed and shook her head. "You're incorrigible." Pressing her lips to his brow, she whispered. "Thanks for taking care of my people, Kryik." She straightened and headed for the door.
"And thank you for the moral booster, Shepard," he called after her, his voice thready. "But you might want to pull that skirt down a bit before you go out there."
"Wha . . .?" She ran her hands down over her backside to feel that the skirt had indeed ridden up further than she would have liked. "You . . .." An exasperated growl crept out, edged with a soft chuckle. "So inappropriate, Kryik. I swear. When you're back on your feet, I'll boost something but it won't be your moral."
A harsh cough burst through his soft chuckle. "Promises. Promises."
Turning away, she feigned disgust, but the fact that he was joking lightened the burden hanging from her shoulders. At least the debacle hadn't turned into a tragedy. Now, if only they could figure out another way to find Saren. Hopefully Noveria would open up a clue. If not . . . they were screwed.
Some of the crew were sitting at the table, heads propped up on hands as they listlessly shovelled food into their mouths. Someone wolf-whistled. Judging by the colour of the young marine's face, it had been Jenkins.
Shepard curtsied a little. "Why thank you. It's good to know that my street-walker chic fashion statement is appreciated."
Kaidan turned away from his hunting mission inside the fridge, saw her, and immediately turned an intense shade of purple. "Ma'am," he greeted her, trying to look anywhere but at her. "I see the new Alliance dress code has been released."
Shepard's grin widened. "Yep. Wait until you see the new male uniforms. They're something else."
A melodramatic heave of his shoulders punctuated his sigh as he finally met her eyes. "Please tell me they didn't bring back the speedos and bow ties."
Laughing, she shook her head. "No, they learned their lesson with the crouching behind cover hysterical blindness incident of 2179. It's bike shorts and bow ties now." She waved them off. "If you'll excuse me ladies and gentlemen, I hear a shower and bed calling my name."
Twenty minutes later, Shepard sat on the side of her bed, showered and dressed in a blessedly warm, soft set of regulation sweats. She lost track of how long she sat there, forearms resting across her thighs, hands hanging limp between her knees. After puzzling it over while she used up most of the Normandy's hot water, she still didn't know if or how Aria had manipulated her into rescuing her daughter and murdering that bastard.
Because that was what it amounted to. Murder. No matter how much he may or may not have deserved it, she'd never just levelled her gun on an unarmed civilian and put a bullet in them. Her throat tightened again. She'd taken his life out of fury and disgust and panic, not necessity. No matter how many people told her that she'd acted for the best, she needed to believe it, and she couldn't. In his condition, she could have put him down and restrained him with one hand. Garrus could have . . ..
A knock on her door interrupted the thought, but she left it unanswered, tossing a half-formed moment of gratitude at it for breaking the loop.
"I know you're in there," Garrus called, "and if you're sleeping, I'm Wrex's dear old mother."
Shepard let out a long breath. "Why aren't you in bed, C-Sec?" Despite leaving the invitation to come in unspoken, she felt some of the wan chill drop away at the sound of his voice.
"For the same reason you aren't, I expect." He went silent for a good half minute. "Are you really going to leave me standing out here?"
"Probably. Do you have some business that can't wait until morning . . . or until I've gotten a few hours sleep?"
"I come bearing the gifts of normality and sanity."
She chuckled despite herself. "Really? I thought they'd be out of stock here on Omega. I can't wait to see what sort of packaging they use for sanity. Come on in, C-Sec." She grinned at him as the door opened. Garrus wore a long black robe and hood that made him seem a good foot taller and broader. "Nice robe." It was lovely, actually, once he stepped close enough for her to see the black and gold embroidery along the center panel.
"Thank you." He stopped and cocked his head a little. "There's something different about you. Can't place it . . .."
She laughed and held out her arms, showing off her sweats. "I'm back to me."
He nodded. "Better."
"Even without the pseudo-turian legs?"
"Still better." He walked over to her, holding up two bags, the smells drifting from them reaching down inside to tease her stomach into growling. After checking the labels on the bags, he passed her one. "Your sanity . . .."
Taking it, she took a long sniff. "Cheeseburger and fries . . . oh, and a dill pickle." Grinning, she pressed her hand over her belly as it howled like a wolf. "I guess I'm hungry."
He nodded. "Either that or you ate a pack of varren and they want out." After chuckling for a moment, the smile drained off his face and he moved over to the bed. He hesitated for a couple of breaths, then sat beside her, his thigh brushing the side of hers. She could feel a tautness through that connection, like a bowstring pulled back, but hesitating, unsure whether to let the arrow fly. Turning, he set his food behind them, then reached over and laid his hand over hers, his talons encircling her fingers.
"C-Sec?"
He shook his head. She knew he was asking her to back up a bit, to give him space. Pressing her lips together in an understanding smile that felt like the bastard child of a grimace and a scream, she just let out a long, slow breath.
"Four months ago, I murdered a drug dealer," he said, his voice flat - pale and oh so wrong-sounding without its characteristic warmth. It lifted all the hair from her skin, electricity running along the fine, gold shafts. It took every ounce of her restraint to not reach out, to deny what he'd said as impossible, to heal that terrible, flat hollowness.
"I knew he could tell me where to find his suppliers, thought if I roughed him up a little, he'd crack. I hit him, not too hard at first, but he refused to talk, and I got angry, then blind furious. I broke his neck." He pulled her hand over closer to him and turned it over, her pale, freckled skin almost appearing to glow against the dark steel grey of his. He stared at their hands without talking for a minute or two. Shepard didn't know how long exactly, it seemed as though her heart and lungs . . . even time itself . . . stopped, willing to wait for her brave friend to continue.
"I told myself, that he'd just fallen wrong. An accident." He looked up to meet her eyes, and she noticed his visor was missing. "I certainly didn't mean to do it, but it wasn't an accident. I lost my temper and murdered him. Badly aimed blow, falling the wrong way, whatever . . . none of that matters. My actions killed him. The responsibility is mine." His brow plates dropped, but he didn't look away.
Shepard didn't even blink, meeting the pain in his stare, both accepting and mirroring it.
"Not legally responsible . . . that's what the investigation said, but you and I know that we're most responsible for those moments we let the darkness win." A deep breath whistled through his nose. It felt like a sigh of relief, easing the heaviness in the room a little. "You're the only one I've ever told the truth. Nobody believed I would kill someone like that." He sighed. "Well, except for my father. The disappointment in his eyes burned. I guess part of the reason I came along with you was running away from the guilt, from Dad's disappointment." His stare dropped back to their hands. He set hers on her thigh and patted it absently.
"We're all running from something, C-Sec. All of us." All she could think to say in that moment was the truth. Heaven knew a battalion of ghosts chased her around like a pack of feral varren.
He looked her in the eye again. "I can't say anything to help, but, Shepard, on Omega, that bastard would have been right back torturing females again within a day. Yes, you executed him, and maybe that wasn't the right thing to do, but in this case, it was the best thing to do."
Shepard gave him the tight, furniture polish smile, but it collapsed under the weight of its own deceit. "Aria would have taken care of him."
He chuffed and nodded. "You did him a mercy in that case. She wouldn't have made it that quick or easy." Taking a long breath he nodded, crisp and exaggerated as if declaring the conversation over.
Activating his omnitool, he scrolled through an extranet page. "So, while wandering across Omega earlier, or yesterday, maybe even the day before, I did a little extranet research. Most of the sources I found said that The Maltese Falcon is the best example of the detective noir film. I thought maybe we could come down off the past couple of days by eating food of questionable nutritional value and watching Sam Spade look for the Maltese Falcon."
Shepard smiled. "It is a classic." She reached over and took his hand. "C-Sec . . .." Sucking in a deep breath, she gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks for trusting me with that."
He nodded, and sent the vid to the screen on her wall. "So, what is a Maltese Falcon, anyway?"
Shepard scooted back on her bed and sat cross-legged, digging into her bag of food. "You'll just have to watch the movie and find out, won't you?"
He grumbled, but settled in to do just that.