Archangel is a word that gets said much more often after that night. At first, the Blue Suns put out a bounty on my head. A handful of mercs try it, and when their bodies end up in well-known drug dens, the Suns quit on that. They do ramp up their defenses and bring more people onto Omega from Spirits know where. It doesn't matter; every time they have a major operation, we intercept it, and more Blue Sun blood is spilled.

And we know every time they have a major operation because the people on Omega - the ones who aren't in gangs and who may be on drugs but who don't want to see people dying for them - have been waiting for a way to show gangs like the Blue Suns who runs Omega. They whisper information to street workers which gets back to Devon, they post anonymous details about operations or even individual gang members, they stop paying the Suns for protection. And even though we don't ask for it and I would never dream of shaking someone down for protection payment...they pay.

It's not a lot. It's not enough considering the ammo, armor repairs, and explosives we often need. But it's something. It makes Devon and Dhelem feel more legit. It makes me feel like a mercenary; I haven't decided yet how I feel about that. All I know is that Archangel has a mission here, and on the nights when we're planning or working, I don't feel Shepard's presence as heavily.

It's never gone, though. I don't know how I feel about that yet either.

I do know that I like keeping a scumbag gang on the run. And I like having Dhelem and Devon around, too. Even on the nights when Devon is working, something he's still doing both for the money and because - as he told me in no uncertain terms - he enjoys it, I'm not alone. And something tells me that Devon told Dhelem not to leave me alone. Either that or Dhelem is every bit as lonely and messy as I am.

He's also far too convincing and ends up talking me into going to a bar. I knew immediately that it was a bad idea, but the alternative - staring at that fucking gun with the walls closing in around me - was just too painful. And too pathetic, to be honest. Once we get into Afterlife, though, I wonder if the gun wouldn't be a better alternative.

Afterlife is as hormonal and sex-driven as clubs come. It's not technically a strip club and yet has more naked and mostly naked people than any strip club I have ever been in. Ever. It almost makes me smile when I think about my friends from the Normandy here. Joker would be in heaven, Tali would be drunk in moments, Liara would be appalled, and Shepard...

I want to think that Shepard would be all over me. Spirits, I want to think about that. Although thinking about it in public might be dangerous; this is by far the longest I've ever gone without sex, and I'm not going to take much to end up with a raging erection. The truth is more than enough to get my dick soft again, though. Even if she were alive, we wouldn't be together.

I'm the idiot who bonded with a human and let her walk away. And I'm the pitiful Turian sulking in the corner of a club that oozes sex, unable and unwilling to build any interest for anyone else. It might be as simple as a single thought for me to get it up with Shepard on my mind, but for someone else? It's hard to even imagine at this point. The woman I'm meant to be with is dead; why would I waste the energy my dick requires on someone else.

"Damn, could you possibly look more miserable?" Dhelem asks, laughing into his beer. "Devon said you desperately needed to get laid, and I think he might actually have undersold it."

"Don't you start with that too," I groan, wishing I had ordered something a lot stronger than this ale. "I do not need to get laid. Nor do I want to get laid."

Dhelem nearly chokes on his drink, blinking at me with eyes blown wide. "You're a Turian. It's biologically impossible that you don't want to get laid."

"There are asexual Turians, thank you very much."

"Oh, you're asexual?"

I can't answer that. I'm not into lying to my teammates, I'm definitely not into lying about my sexuality, and I'm not drunk enough to just tell him off. Dhelem takes my silence as an answer and chuckles, shaking his head at me.

"You already have attention from at least a couple Asari and that Turian guy at the bar. Unless you're asexual and straight?"

I scowl at him. "Neither, if you must know. But still very much uninterested."

"Devon said he thought you might be into humans, but I didn't think that was exclusive."

That one, I almost laugh at. "It's not exclusive. Actually, it might be the opposite. There was one human, and only one. Never found another attractive."

"Hmm." Dhelem slams down the rest of his beer, belches, and then surprises me again when he announces, "They are super bendy. And wet. It's nice." I look over at him in shock, and there's a moment where we just stare at one another. I'm trying to figure out if he's screwing with me, and I think he's trying to decide whether I'm going to freak out. Instead, the alcohol hits at the right moment and we explode in laughter.

It's amazing, the way laughter can lift a weight. It's just as amazing how quickly it comes back after, though. There's always guilt, anytime I manage to smile or relax or laugh or...breathe. I know Shepard would find that ridiculous, punishing myself for even moments of happiness when she can't, but that doesn't mean I can stop. My emotions aren't logical, and they didn't exactly teach us how to deal with this shit when I was in military school.

Dhelem shifts beside me, catching my attention. I wish I hadn't looked when I realize that he's adjusting himself because he's got a situation growing in his pants. I follow his gaze to an Asari who is just as interested in him and making her own interest clear, running her hands her breasts right at the bar. Afterlife is definitely a special sort of place.

Dhelem gives me a quick glance that looks almost embarrassed, then clears his throat and lifts his beer for a gulp. He frowns when he finds it empty, and I can't help but laugh.

"Just go," I tell him, motioning toward the Asari.

"Man, she has friends. Look!" I do and I immediately regret it. The Asari watching Dhelem does indeed have friends, and they're both staring at me. While touching each other. There's a Turian a few seats down from them at the bar who is moments from busting right out of his pants. And I can't even get a stirring in my cock.

"No, thanks. But you go have fun. Really."

Dhelem takes a deep breath and watches me for a moment. I don't know if he could read my expression or subtones to know the difference, but I school my face anyway. "Devon will be - "

"I do not need a babysitter."

"Fine, but brother, you do need an orgasm." Dhelem stands, not bothering to hide his erection. "Go home and at least rub one out, would you? It'll ease Devon's concerns about you."

"I'm sorry, you want me to jerk off in pity for Devon?"

Dhelem barks out a laugh and leans over the table, grabbing my beer and downing it. "I'll bring breakfast over in the morning."

"Shower first." He smiles at me, and then turns away to go after his conquest. Not that he has to do a lot of questing; she practically throws herself at him. But it's good for him. The guy does good work. If this is his bonus, he's earned it.

I can't stay at the bar alone. It doesn't just make me a target, but it just feels too damn sad. All I want to do is go home, drink enough to sleep, and pass out until the morning. I buy another bottle on my way out; the amount it takes to sleep seems to be getting larger by the day. I'm not about to dissect that, though. As long as I can actually manage sleep, who cares?

The one person who might care is already on the couch when I get home. I thank the spirits quickly that he's not jerking off, and that I hadn't gotten home early and taken Dhelem's advice. That's a level of intimacy Devon and I do not need to reach.

"You're home early."

"I could say the same to you," he replies, turning to pull his legs closer and make room for me. "I had a client pay a shit ton more than he needed to; first-timer, got all emotional. Decided to take the rest of the night off. You?"

"Dhelem made new friends. Decided to get out of there before anyone else tried to make friends with me."

Devon rolls his eyes. "Yeah, those friends are such a damn pesky thing. Are you ever gonna tell me honestly why you refuse to just get some?" Before I can tell him off for that, he adds, "Or why you won't talk to someone about her? I mean, at least me. We both know I'm special as fuck."

I appreciate that he's managed to make me laugh. I also crack open the bottle and drink right from it. It's necessary if we're going here. Not that I've decided that's what happening. "The answer to both of those questions is the same."

"Ooh, cryptic. I like it." He laughs when I shoot him a glare before I go back to drinking. It barely burns at all after the first few gulps. "Do you tell the bottle your secrets in the morning?"

"Yes. And it never asks questions."

"I wouldn't ask questions if you talked to me."

"What if I don't want to talk to you?"

Devon cocks his head to the side. "What if I don't want to watch you start drowning every night because you won't talk?"

"Oh, let's go there. What if I don't want to watch you stay addicted to the drug that almost killed you?" I retort, standing up because I want to get the hell away from him. Or at least away from this conversation. "You quit, I'll talk. How's about that?"

"Wow, you can be a real asshole, you know that? Maybe whoever she was, she dumped your ass."

My stomach bottoms out so quickly, so violently that I very nearly lose every ounce of alcohol I've already sucked down tonight. Now I need to get away from him. "I'm going to bed."

"No, wait! I'm sorry," Devon calls, scrambling over the back of the couch to cross into my path. "That was mean, I know. I'm sorry. You know I just worry about you, Archie."

"Spirits, that nickname makes me want to shoot you instead of myself." He barks out a laugh and it immediately eases some of the tension in my chest. I can't stay pissed off at him, even if he says things that break my heart. "If I answer those questions you asked...you have to promise to stop pushing me to hook up. With anyone. Deal?"

Devon considers it for a split second and then responds, "Deal."

"I..." My throat tightens like my body doesn't want to let the words out. It'll be the first time I say it out loud. That's going to make it real. It doesn't die whether or not I say it, though. This is always going to be my truth. "I bonded with her. And she did dump me. Then she died before she...before either of us realized it. I never told her."

"Bonded, like...like the permanent thing?" I move the bottle to my mouth for another drink to answer that, but Devon cuts me off by throwing himself at me, his arms flying around my shoulders. For once, the guy doesn't say a word. He doesn't do or say anything. He just stands there...hugging me.

And it's the first time in months anyone has held me at all.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, only releasing me enough to look up at me. The pity in his eyes is nearly heavy enough to break me. I try to look away from it but Devon catches my face with both hands and pulls me to look back at him. "I knew you were hurting, but...I'm sorry. You...you thought I was going to leave you."

The overdose. Now he gets it.

A tear tracks down his cheek, shredding through me on its path. I remember the pity that I received from just about everyone on the Citadel after Shepard died. They all knew how much she meant to me, and she never did. Or worse, maybe she did and just...didn't care. A shuddering breath wracks through me, and Devon winces.

"Look, I - "

"Wait, listen," he protests, letting me step away but dropping his hands to catch mine. "I know Turians are no good with emotions and whatever, and I know it probably annoys the shit out of you that I can't just hear your subtones. But we both know I've seen it. The gun."

"I'm not..." I shake my head when the words fail. I wish I was a liar.

Devon steps closer again. "Dude. I just want you to know that I get it. I've been there. Not the same reason, but...there." I search his eyes and know he's being honest. "I'm human, gay, and on a derelict alien station. Is it surprising?"

I don't know if anyone else could make me laugh right now.

"I don't wanna do it."

"I know. Can you just do me one favor?" I nod, mostly because he looks so damn earnest at the moment. "Just...remember that you're only alone if you don't ask for help. Or at least tell me that you need me. Or whatever macho bullshit Turians need to use to get a fucking hug."

"It's not macho bullshit," I argue, rolling my eyes. "Turian women are actually even worse at emotions than men, believe me."

Devon laughs at that and takes a moment to wipe his eyes and cheeks. I can't remember the last time someone cried for me. Or...if they ever have. Shepard didn't even cry when she left. Of course, neither did I. And no one saw me when she died. Devon isn't going to see it either. I haven't fallen that far yet. No, I just sleep next to a gun I fantasize about putting in my mouth and cry alone over her dog tags. That's better...

I take a breath and say the second hardest thing I've had to. "I...I promise. I'll remember I'm not alone. OK?"

"Yes. And I promise to stop trying to get you to hookup...even though I still think you could benefit from choking the chicken every once in a while."

"Choking the...what? And why would I choke it?"

"Oh, idiom." I have fight not to wince; he sounds so much like Shepard sometimes. "It's a euphemism for jerking off. Choking, I guess because you squeeze? And chickens, well...here." He types a bit on his Omni-Tool and then shows me the picture of an extremely odd winged creature.

"Spirits, is that what a human penis looks like?" I demand, forced to step away from the human man in front of me at the thought he could have that in his pants. "Tell me you don't have feathers. Or that shape!"

"No, God! I...actually I have no idea why chicken was chosen," he confesses, frowning at the picture. "And actually, human and Turian penises look pretty similar. Ours are pink, of course. And smaller in general."

"But no feathers?" He scowls at me, and I can't help laughing. "OK, OK. I have no intentions of choking chickens or my dick, but your concern is noted. Can that just be enough for now?"

Devon practically beams at me. "More than enough. Thank you." He skips back to the couch and leaps over the back, making himself comfortable again. I shake my head at him, completely drained, and then head for the shower. I want to just collapse in bed, but after the club, I feel a need for hot water and scrubbing. Just having people look at me that way feels dirty anymore.

I take off Shepard's dog tags and set them on the sink. The light catches the silver, and I'm drawn to examine them for the first time in a while. The sight of her name with an Alliance rank sets a heat in my chest. They betrayed her, abandoned all the work that she did. Even now, the Reapers are out there threatening all of our lives, and they've made stopping them impossible just to save face. The Council is no better; hell, they never even gave Shepard her Spectre tags before she died.

They'll hail her as a hero and let her death mean nothing at all.

I have to put down her tags before I destroy them by accident, the anger slowly simmering in my blood and building in my gut. And then that anger continues to slide lower, pissed off and turned on closely related in a Turian. My dick stirring is almost foreign to me now after months of no attention, no interest at all. I don't even get hard in shootouts.

As much as I hate to ever admit that Devon could be right...it's unnatural for me to go this long entirely without.

Shepard would never let me live this down. She would be ruthless about it, too. I'm certain the humans have a few nonsense idioms and foolish words for this. Her verbal jabbing was nearly better than the physical, and they both turned me on.

I lock the door and then step into the shower, letting scalding hot water pour over me. I try to ignore it. Sort of. Not really. The thing isn't all that easy to ignore. Especially while I'm naked.

There's part of me that feels a little ashamed about it. Humans are a lot less open about their sexuality and sexual urges. They can call it modesty, but they associate sex with guilt in a way that foreign and almost even disturbing to me. Masturbation is somewhat taboo, which is absurd since literally every species in the galaxy does it. What could be more natural?

Fuck, if it wasn't natural, my cock probably wouldn't fit so well in my hand.

But thinking about Shepard while doing this...what would she think? She would blush, that much I can be sure of. I loved that sweet pink color her cheeks took on, even more vibrant when her red locks were hanging down around her face. Or spread out across her sheets.

Damn. I have to keep control of my voice; the last thing I need is for Devon to hear me moaning like a fucking teenager in here. I can't control my body as well, though, my fist tightening rhythmically with strokes that I try to keep slow.

Shepard told me once that she did this in the shower. She was trying to make me crazy one day, and she nailed it, telling me that even after going all night, she thought about me in the shower and couldn't help touching herself. Spirits, she felt so good. Her body was soft everywhere but inside her was like nothing I'd ever felt, hot and slick and...

My whole body shudders, my hand moving faster.

There would be no point in hooking up with anyone else. None of them could feel like her, none of them could drive me crazy the way she did. Every inch and angle of Shepard's body called to me, fit against me flawlessly. There was so much we never got to do, so much more of her that I wanted to explore - both in her body and in her limits.

She was always so tight. So flexible. So...

"Fuck, Shepard, yes." I hear myself say it distantly when a hot spark shoots from the top of my head and explodes through my cock, ending on the shower floor. I close my eyes instead of watching the water wash any of it down, instead of looking at myself.

Shepard would be turned on if I could tell her what just happened. But I can't. So who really cares?

Nothing is better. I'm not sure it ever will be.

There's a moment during the firefight when it's like I can feel Shepard standing at my side. On my left, of course; it put me in my rightful position on her right side. A Krogan rushes me, and I get a breeze that smells like cinnamon and citrus. It nearly stalls my heart, and it almost stalls me enough that I miss my opportunity to fire on the two-ton merc.

I almost got myself pummeled because I was hallucinating about Shepard.

Even though we're successful and work nearly seamlessly as a squad to wipe out the entire Vorcha unit and their Krogan guard, even though we kept deadly weapons off the Citadel, and even though we put a real dent in the Blood Pack's weapons trade, that mistake puts me in a foul mood. The woman is dead, the woman was never even mine, and I put real lives at risk - my own included - for an opportunity to remember what she smelled like. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic, and I am so fucking tired of being pathetic.

I end up at the bar with the squad. They're celebrating, I'm indulging in self-pity. Tonight that looks like way too much ryncol in a dark booth while the others dance and enjoy themselves.

"Hey there, big guy." I cringe at the name even if the voice is wrong. It takes me a second to recognize Caeria through the fog clouding my vision.

"Don't call me that." Even I can hear the slur in my words, but Caeria doesn't seem to mind.

She slides into the booth, and I don't know if she actually sits right up against my side, or if I'm moving...or if that's the bar. I take another gulp of the drink that burns like acid going down far after my throat should have gone numb. I know it won't help, but I don't care. I deserve the pain.

"What would you like me to call you?" she asks. I can hear her subtones over the pounding of the music. She wants me. She's already aroused; I wonder if that's from me or the alcohol.

"Usually by the time a woman sounds like that, she's already calling me 'sir.'" Where the hell did that come from? I'm not attracted to her. Maybe I would have been a year ago, but she does nothing for me. So why did I say that? Why aren't I taking it back?

Why the fuck am I still drinking? At some point, I lost control of my body because the mug lifts to my mouth, and Caeria leans closer to me. I think her hand is on my thigh, but I'm mostly numb.

"Hey!" Caeria startles instantly, and after a moment, I manage to react. Devon is standing at the end of the table. He's pissed, though I don't know what about. He looks really pretty tonight, though. Good for him. "You can tell he's hammered. Take a hike."

"And who are you?" she snaps back at him. "His boyfriend?"

I laugh without meaning to. "No way. I trust Devon. I'd never trust my boyfriend." I look up at Devon and tell him, "You're pretty."

"I know," he responds, sliding into the booth beside me. "You are drunk. But you're pretty too, for the record."

"I know." Only then I realize that Caeria is gone, and I don't know where she went. "She wanted some dick. Did you hear her subtones?"

Devon laughs. It sounds weird. Everything sounds weird. "I can't hear subtones, and she can go get some dick somewhere else. You're good enough to hate yourself in the morning."

"Ha! I hate myself in the all the time." The mug is getting harder to bring to my mouth. I think some of it spills. Devon is doing something on the table, but he's hard to see, so I close my eyes. "I like sex, Devon. I miss it. Will I ever be able to fuck anyone who isn't her?"

"I..." Devon makes a sound. "I don't know, dude. I think so. I hope so. But...bonding is some heavy shit."

"It's the worst shit." I only realize I said that out loud when Devon laughs. "I think I'm drunk."

"Oh, ya think? Come on, let's get you home."

"You can't carry me," I protest when he tugs on my arm. "And I can walk. But don't try to suck my dick when we get home. Oh, I miss having my dick sucked, too."

"Oh, man, don't we all?"

I realize that we're walking. I know I'm on my feet, and I'm moving. I can feel Devon beside me, too close. Against me. I don't want to move him away, though. Not him. And then the apartment. Did I sleep on the way here? I don't remember walking enough to be here. But I recognize the smell. And my bed. And the gun.

"That was her Christmas present," I tell Devon, vaguely aware of him at the end of the bed. I don't know what he's doing. "I was gonna give that to her even after she dumped me. Now...I can't."

"How come you don't use it when you're fighting?" The feeling of being lifted, at least a little, registers, and I look down to see that Devon managed to get all my clothes except my shorts off. I try to give him a look even though my face is numb, and it must work because he laughs and explains, "My job includes a lot of removing clothes. This wasn't even that difficult."

"You're welcome for not being that difficult. And thank you for running...that Turian off."

Devon sighs and sits down on the bed beside me. "She's harmless. Can't blame her for being hot for you, Archangel." I just groan at that, and my eyes fall closed. They're too hard to open again, and I don't try very hard. "You don't use the gun because you still think of it as hers, don't you? And those tags...still hers."

"Devon." The first physical sensation I've genuinely felt in hours is a sharp pain lancing through my chest. "Everything is still hers. I always will be."

"Ah, dude. That shit is heartbreaking." Something warm moves over me, and it feels tempting, pulling me into the dark gently. "Go to sleep. You'll be OK, dude."

OK. He's wrong. There's no way I could be OK. Not anymore.

I let the darkness take me.

I want to die for an entirely different reason in the morning. Or, at least I think it's morning. I feel like I've slept for days, and my mouth is dry enough to make it seem plausible. Every blink, every creak of my plates - and they're literally creaking today - echoes through my brain like a semiautomatic is firing in my skull. There is nothing that doesn't hurt, and I've never been so aware of my breathing before.

When I get out of the shower, which I barely managed to stand through, I find water and pain killers waiting on the table by my bed. And I know it was Devon who out them here because the painkillers are literally sitting on the barrel of the gun. He probably thought it was poetic. Or funny. It might be if my head wasn't going to explode at any moment.

All I can manage to put on after taking the drugs and drinking the entire glass of water is sweatpants and the dog tags. Anything else is just too much effort. Even the tags are loud and cold against my carapace; it's worth it for those, though.

I don't care that I'm almost entirely undressed even when I walk out into the living room and find it far more full of people than I prefer. I'm a Turian, after all; we don't give much thought to modesty. Besides, I'm going to vomit on the couch if they don't move, so who gives a crap that I'm barely wearing anything? Devon's catcall whistle is almost enough to kill me, though.

"I will destroy you," I tell him, barely recognizing my own voice. "As soon as I can see straight."

"You drank like we lost last night, man," Villo teases, looking rather comfortable in my home for someone who never should have been here at all. "We wiped out that whole squad!"

"We kicked ass," Dhelem chimes in with a wide grin.

Sertis gives me a sideways glance while drinking my coffee from one of my mugs. "We could do it again, you know? If you guys wanted."

That explains it.

I sit down hard on the couch and let my head fall on Devon's shoulder. His arms come around me immediately, and I let it be comforting. I'm not clear on everything we talked about last night, my memory as foggy as my vision, but I know Devon was there for me. Since I'm moments from death by skull implosion, I need that sort of friendship right now. I can hear confusion from the other Turian's in the room, but I ignore them.

"I don't do teamwork," I inform them, really wishing I could clear my throat without blood.

"Hey!" Dhelem laughs at his own protest when I offer him a rude gesture universal across most species.

"You could do even more with teamwork, though. All the gangs know about you now; they aren't going to make taking them down easy," Villo says. "It's not like you'd be taking on useless chumps."

Sertis laughs. "Yeah, we even bring our own weapons."

"And...our own apartment," Caeria chimes in. "You cannot tell me that you want to stay here."

That one actually gets me to open my eyes. When I'm not thinking about it, sometimes the smell in this apartment building doesn't make me feel violently ill. But I'm thinking about it a lot. And even hungover, I wouldn't be able to ignore the stains on the floor and walls outside this door. I force myself to sit up and glance toward Dhelem. He nods subtlely, on board. Devon looks nervous, though.

"I have stipulations," I tell them, taking a risk and clearing my throat. "No missions off Omega; I'm not interested in getting involved with any shit on the Citadel, or being involved with people there. We never ignore the risk to civilian lives. And wherever I go, Devon does too."

All three of the former C-Sec officers look at Devon at the same time. They must know who he is, what he does if they've been following us. And they absolutely must have questions about our arrangement. But they've also got to know that he's the only person I trust completely right now - trust, and trust to help me stay alive.

"Your stipulations aren't about splitting any rewards we get for work?" Caeria asks, frowning at me. Something about her is really setting me off today, but I don't know what.

"I'm not a fucking merc. There, add that to the stipulations."

Sertis nods and stands. "You got it, vigilante - not merc. And deal. You accept us as part of the crew, and we have a deal." One more glance around; this time, both Devon and Dhelem look sure.

This is absolutely not what I expected when moving here. Well, running here. I came to Omega to disappear, to forget. Suddenly, I have a crew staring me in the face, a group of people who want to improve this Spirits forsaken station. And who want my help to do it. I'm not a Spectre like Shepard wanted me to be, I'm not married or in C-Sec like my father wants me to be, I'm not with Shepard like I wanted to be.

And yet, I'm shaking Sertis's forearm and accepting the deal to form a crew. None of this was what I wanted, and I'm still not sure that it is. What I do know is the alternative...and I'm not ready to die yet.

"You know, I should be insulted that you don't trust me yet."

I roll my eyes at Villo's back. It confuses the hell out of the Turian former C-Sec agents who have joined our squad, but I don't care. A well-timed eye roll says so much, and even if no one sees it, there's something cathartic about the action. Human or not, I'm not giving it up.

And Villo deserves it at the moment.

"Go ahead and be insulted. I don't trust you yet."

He huffs out a quick laugh and just shakes his head, probably expecting that answer. We've only been working together for a couple of weeks, but we live together now too. More than a few comments about me being a closed door or a concrete wall have been thrown around the apartment. Devon and Dhelem don't argue any of it, but they're also preening a little about being in what I heard Caeria call "the inner circle." I have no fucking circles, just a bunch of people who pester me about opening up.

I'm going to pay someone to open up my throat soon, I swear. Especially if Villo ever pulls some shit like this again.

"I might trust you a little more if you didn't wake me up in the middle of the night for nonsense." He managed to interrupt one of the few good dreams I ever have. He also managed to wake me before that dream reached the completion is always does, but that one benefits him. I'd have an excuse to shoot him if he saw my cock.

"It's not nonsense," he argues, a slight growl building in his chest. He takes offense to me not responding to that, I guess, because he snaps, "It's not! I'm telling you, you gotta see this guy."

"Fine. Tell me about it again?" I rub my fringe, hoping I don't fall asleep standing here. The smell in this alley is probably the only thing keeping me awake, so I need Villo talking even if I think he might be full of shit.

"Me and Sertis were checking out that Eclipse squad - that one you asked us to track?" I nod, recalling them well. I don't forget people who might be involved in the slave trade. "There's a Salarian tracking them, too. He has his own cameras, I've seen him using mics and shit. The guy has to be STG or something, definitely a tech expert."

"And you've been shadowing him? Like you were shadowing me?" I give him a side eye and note, "You're a real creep sometimes, you know that?"

He laughs, which is a superiorly inappropriate way to respond to that, but I've come to expect nothing less. "Anyway. He's making his move tonight. I thought we could watch him, maybe see if he could be a good addition to the crew."

"We're not recruiting." I push off the wall and flick my spent cigarette to the ground. "I'm not hanging out in some shit alley in the middle of the night to not recruit someone. And especially not someone who is ex-STG." Those guys are like Spectres with freakishly good science skills. I remember the squad with fought with on Virmire with equal parts admiration and caution.

"We should be recruiting people who have skills we need. How else are we gonna take down the gangs around here?"

It's my turn to laugh at Villo. "You realize that you're on Omega, right? The gangs here aren't going anywhere. They practically run this place."

"Aria runs this place."

"Who?" I shake my head and continue, "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. We aren't recruiting, and we don't need to be recruiting because we aren't taking down the damn gangs around here. That's a useless mission."

"It's probably a suicide mission. And you're probably suicidal." I refuse to let myself react to that. "You know you can't stand the bullshit that happens around here, especially because you know what happens on Omega doesn't stay on Omega. Remember that I saw you with that little human girl."

"Melody."

He smiles like he's just won something and says, "Exactly. So get real, Archangel. You're the savior of Omega, like it or not. And that Salarian," he points to the other end of the alley, to the area that he's been watching, "should be part of our team."

Villo fades into a whisper by the end of that, and I don't retort in an effort not to blow our position. I may not care to be here or to recruit anyone, but I don't want to get shot for it or put the Salarian at risk. The potentially former STG agent in question is hidden behind a few crates where a Varren meat dealer is storing meat - room temperature and on the ground, but that's a different sort of crime than the Eclipse mercs heading into the closed-down market place are likely committing.

We're too far to hear the mercs, too far away to figure out what's going on, but we aren't really here to for them. Villo is here to find out if the Salarian can get them down. And if they are into slavery, as I suspect, I'm definitely not above helping the guy out. I don't go for my rifle yet, willing to give Villo the benefit of the doubt and just watch.

I'm willing for about an hour. And then I think about just shooting Villo. I'm moments from doing it when the action finally starts. We can't really tell what that action is, but we can see clearly that something is going down, the Salarian shifting into a kneeling position and pulling up a screen on his Omni-Tool. Villo is holding his breath as the Salarian types away, and I wonder if that's more because he's anxious about what will happen or because he's anxious about how I'll react to whatever happens.

I have zero control over my reaction when the first Eclipse merc goes down. I can't tell what happened, but the merc drops right to his knees and lets out a piercing scream. For a beat, his squadmates just stare at him. And then another goes down. Another. It's moments before the entire squad is on the floor, writhing in pain. No explosions, no gunshots, no biotics, no fire. Just a totally incapacitated Eclipse squad and one Salarian with a smug smile.

I know without having to look that Villo has a massive, shit-eating grin on his face. "Fine. He might be worth talking to."

"He might be badass," he replies with a laugh. "Come on, let's go."

Villo straightens from the wall but waits for me like he needs me to hold his hand on the way over. I roll my eyes at him yet again and follow him into the dim light of the market, letting my boots settle heavily in the space dust so that the Salarian doesn't think we're sneaking up on him. I pull my helmet off on the way; if we're going to think about working with the guy, he's allowed to see my face. I'll stay anonymous for the rest of the station.

The Salarian draws a pistol when he hears us coming but doesn't raise it at us right away, obviously realizing that we aren't holding weapons on him either. "Who the hell are you?"

A memory strikes me, and I turn to Villo. "Go get Sertis, have him complain about this guy stealing our kills."

"Hey, we were on that hunt for a long time! It was kind of fucking annoying that you came swaggering onto the station - "

"I most definitely do not swagger."

"All big Turian with an even bigger rifle, and just wiped that whole squad out." Villo looks to the Salarian and then points at me. "This guy has a thing with stealing kills. But this whole thing wasn't our kill. You earned it."

"I...earned..." The Salarian shakes his head and demands, "Who are you?"

I step forward and extend my right hand. "Ignore him. I'm Archangel." That still feels pretentious as hell, but it's better than creating a new name that would just be a lie or giving people my real name. Besides, it's recognizable.

"Oh. That explains it." The Salarian accepts my handshake. "Akart. And you definitely do swagger."

Villo laughs, and I force myself not to take the bait. "Fine. But you know who I am, what me and my team do around here. We were checking out this Eclipse unit, but you're impressive. Really impressive, actually." He would be the best tech expert I've ever seen if I'd never met Tali. I'd give my left arm to listen to that Quarian giggle.

I shake it off and pull myself back into the moment to listen to Akart. "Yeah, well. They had it coming." His throat flushes, and he tightens his free hand into a fist, so I wait for the story I know is coming. "These Eclipse slavers...my partner was going after them. They murdered him. Tortured him. Sent me his..." Akart trails off, shaking his head.

"It's alright," I assure him, not about to push the guy for more. "Needing revenge is something I understand."

"We all hate what these assholes are doing. Them, Blood Pack, Blue Suns...Archangel has been screwing with their ops for a while now." Villo shrugs, hopefully trying to sound less like he's making a sales pitch. "We could use a tech expert with your skills."

Akart cocks his head. "You're asking me to join your squad?"

"We're asking for your help," I correct him, holding out my hand once again. "We can at least make ops a little more difficult for these scumbags."

His returning handshake is much more eager this time. "I'm in."

Things on Omega keep...changing. I almost want to use the spiraling, but I think that would insult my new team. Or...friends. I don't know what they are yet. But all of a sudden, there are a lot of them.

Devon and I moved into the apartment that Caeria, Villo, and Sertis have on Omega. It's actually more of a complex that they have, and I don't ask how they ended up with almost an entire building. It works out, though. I have the same amount of privacy as I did in my own apartment - which, with Devon around, is very little - and the smell is vastly improved. They also keep telling me it's in a better part of the station; there is no good part of this station, though.

But there are a lot of people around suddenly. Especially considering I moved to this station to be alone. And it's probably especially weird that only one of them knows my full name and he doesn't use it. Ever. I'm constantly around another person unless I'm in my bedroom, and there is at least one Turian woman in the building who is persistent about trying to follow me in there. Dhelem is around so often that he may as well move in, and they all seem to have a thing for sharing common spaces.

And now they want to add even more people to this mix.

"Why do you people always insist on talking to me about things you know I'll hate early as fuck in the morning?" Devon's foul language is wearing off on me; I wonder how Shepard would feel about that. I wonder when I can stop thinking stupid shit like that.

"Because even when you're in a good mood," Dhelem cocks his head at me and smirks, baring his teeth at me, "you have a Krogan-sized stick up your ass."

"You're gonna have a Turian sized boot up your ass. Go join these mercs you're such a fan of." I wave him away, and Dhelem just laughs, pushing my cup of coffee closer. I growl at him but grab it and take a big gulp, certain I'm going to need it. I take a deep breath in through my nose and then head into the living room where I have a whole team looking for my opinion on something they know I won't like. "You all realize that you don't need my permission for shit, right?"

Devon turns to look back at me over the back of the couch. "They think of you as their leader, Archie. Deal with it."

"I will not, and don't call me that." He blows me a kiss, and I hide my smile behind a sip of coffee. I can't have this team know that I have a sweet spot for the guy. If he starts asking me for the crap they annoy me with, I'm screwed.

"Hey, look, we just don't want you to have competition on the station," Dhelem says, very obviously still teasing me.

"He doesn't," Caeria mutters behind her own mug, as if she doesn't have subtones that announce all of her intentions and interests to the entire room. There was a time when I would have loved that, being in a room with five other men who all know that the only woman in the room wants me. I would have had no qualms about being a cocky shit about it, too.

Now, she makes me intensely uncomfortable. Now, I can barely look at her without wondering if anything that I said would offend Shepard. I'm on edge near an eligible woman who wants in my pants because I think it might upset the dead woman who dumped me. And it's knowing how stupid and pathetic all of that makes me sound that really makes Caeria piss me off.

"Look, these two guys are trying to build a crew of mercs on the station," Akart begins. "They approached me about a week ago, but they've only done some small stuff, so I wasn't sure. They seem like good guys, though."

"And one of them is a medic," Villo chimes in. "We could use a medic on the crew."

Devon smiles too brightly at me. "And the other one is human. I could feel a little less like the zoo animal."

"If you wore underwear walking around in public spaces, you'd be less like a zoo animal," I quip, not bothering to hide my smile this time. Devon laughs, of course; my favorite thing about him is that he can give as good as he gets.

They have a point, though. We're planning to stop another weapons op, this one from an Eclipse squad with Asari, which means we're going to face biotics. It would be nice to have a medic around. Mordin's clinic is a good resource to have, but I can't always ask him to drop everything for my people, and if it gets out to the gangs that any of us is in the clinic, we could put the entire place at risk.

I'm just so damn surrounded. Do I really need yet two more people here? Do I really need even more change?

"Come on, big guy," Sertis says, leaning back in his chair. Every single time he calls me that, it's like getting punched in the chest. And every single time, I reach for the tags and the sanity that only this piece of metal can bring me. "You know we're gonna need to keep building the squad if we're gonna keep tackling these ops. Now that the gangs are onto us, we have to be prepared to face their defenses."

"And we're gonna need your OK on this shit because whether you not you like it...you run this crew."

I scoff at that and shake my head, wishing I could manage to finish one damn cup of coffee before it goes cold. Just one. "You all can lead yourselves."

"We can handle ourselves, no one is saying that," Dhelem notes, "but you have experience putting the missions together. And you're good at it." I should probably be more complimented than annoyed at that. "You lead, things go as smoothly as we can expect them to for fucking Omega."

"I do not want to lead."

"Too damn bad," Devon counters, standing and still very much smiling. "Someone bring the medic and the human over for dinner. We're bringing home two new babies, folks." He crosses the room, takes a grip of my carapace to tug me closer to his level, and kissing my cheek. "I'll cook for ya, Daddy."

It doesn't stop with dinner. That night, an offer is made for Frank Butler, the human, and Sidonis - a Turian medic - to join our squad. They strike me as good people immediately. It helps their case that Sidonis lost his bondmate and is suffering. Maybe it's partially that I don't want to be the only broken sap around, but I also like knowing that he has a driving force. Frank lives on the station with his wife, Nalah, and they want to start a family. They need Omega to be the kind of place they can raise a kid; that's a mission I can get behind, too.

The problem is that the two of them have been recruiting, trying to build their own squad. What they were missing was a leader, and that's what our squad offers them. I guess that's what I offer them.

So, Butler and Sidonis join us and bring along their crew. Kana and Amtis are Turian mercs and bonded to one another. It turns my stomach a little to see them together, but then I learn they lost a child to gang activity on Omega. A Blood Pack deal went sideways, and their four-year-old son was caught in the crossfires. They're hellbent on putting an end to the Pack.

Pem is another Batarian, and I'm not ashamed to make Dhelem vouch for him when I learn he used to run with the Blue Suns. When I find out that he left the Suns after one of their ops ended in his mate dead and the leaders of the gang had not a single fuck to give about it, I'm sold.

Yom'Jenna has a story similar to too many Quarian out here, and she's the most reluctant to join. She has trouble trusting anyone after what she's been through, some of which I know includes being sold into slavery when she was just trying to get home. She doesn't want to go back to the Flotilla now; now, she wants revenge.

That's the common thread among all of them. Revenge. All of them have been directly harmed or hurt by one of the gangs that operate widely on this station. It sets me apart from them since the gangs here never did anything to me specifically, but they seem to understand how and why I'm invested. By the end of the week, there are twelve of us with that same investment.

And that's how things start to change again.

It happens one night when we're talking about halting yet another weapons deal. Sidonis groans about there always being another, that it seems like we'll never get ahead. It's Devon who lights the spark when he says, "You'd have to take down the gangs from the top for it to stop."

Take down the gangs from the top.

Wipe out the Blue Suns, eradicate the Eclipse, put an end to the Blood Pack.

We wouldn't just be rescuing Omega but countless lives across the galaxy in an epic clean-up of scum. Our efforts to stop low-level deals and chase around their activities stop right then and there. From that moment on, Archangel comes to stand for one thing: making them pay for what they've done.