Author's note: All characters are owned by BioWare, Inc. About time I updated this thing. ;p


Garrus, accompanied by the silent Grunt and not-so-silent Mordin, led the way to Shepard's last known location. Her somewhat breathless request for assistance indicated she had recently seen battle, making him among the first to volunteer for this mission. It wasn't worry for Shepard's safety that drove him to do it, (no one knew how well she could take care of herself like he did) but in the hopes that if there were any other skirmishes, he'd be there. Omega had shown him that when shots were fired, most answered back even if the initial quarrel had nothing to do with them.

After another series of Mordin's barely coherent mutterings Grunt let out an irritated growl. "Quit talking already."

The salarian didn't even favor Grunt with a glance. "Too many possibilities," he murmured, tapping his chin as they walked. "New sickness threatens Omega? More plague? No, no, cured it, Daniel assured there were no more outbreaks. Still, new strains must always be considered. Too many species-"

"Why don't you save all that guessing for when we actually see it?" Garrus suggested, intrigued at how Mordin's speech gave the impression that breathing was not an option.

He blinked at him. "Right, of course. Will wait."

"Good," Grunt remarked in gruff tones. "If you kept talking I would have had to shut you up myself."

The three entered the second docking bay. Garrus spotted Kaidan's ship, distinguishable despite the absence of markers. His curiosity over why it was still here was soon abated: the attack must have taken place before he had the chance to leave. Where, then, were they? Garrus had expected Shepard to be waiting for them. It wasn't like her to disappear.

Grunt suddenly came to an abrupt halt, assault rifle immediately in hand. "I smell blood," he announced darkly. At this Garrus pulled out his pistol, slowing his strides as he followed the krogan toward a large stack of crates. "There," he said, waving his rifle for them. "Smells rotten."

"I never found the smell of blood particularly appealing myself," Garrus commented in casual tones. "But I've gotten used to it after being here for so long." He paused, morbidly amused. "Hmm. Definitely not a good thing." Grunt gave a little bark of laughter. The turian responded with a slight grin before taking the lead again. Bits of shattered glass littered the floor beyond the crates, along with a few spent thermal clips, a modded sniper rifle and a rather large bloodstain.

Mordin hurried forward and went to a knee, using his omni-tool to scan the blood. Motioning for Grunt to cover their backs, Garrus attempted to signal Shepard. Nothing but static echoed from her channel. He frowned as he lowered his arm. Now he was starting to get worried.

"Astonishing," Mordin murmured.

Garrus glanced down at the professor. "Got something?"

"Blood composition very strange. Human but with trace amounts of salarian and batarian. Need to study samples more closely. Break them down." He waved the omni-tool across the ground a few more times, the fingers of his right hand swiftly skimming the surface. "Pity. Would have liked to see this body."

"I saw it," stated a wheezing voice to their right. Grunt and Garrus whirled around as one, leveling their guns on the hunched batarian leaning against a graffiti-colored wall. He wore shabby clothing, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

Mordin immediately went to scan him. "Immune system compromised. High fever, labored breathing, blindness acute in upper left eye, threatening others." His lips pursed, eyes narrowing very slightly. "Death, imminent."

The batarian managed a raspy laugh. "Tell me something I don't know," he grumbled. He coughed a few more times, using what appeared to be a soiled cloth to wipe his mouth. "Rather die than get harvested anyway."

"Harvested?" Garrus' frown was quizzical. "What do you mean?"

The batarian's head lolled back on his neck as he glanced up at the turian. "You must not get to the back alleys very often," he observed, his last word drowned out by another coughing fit. The professor wasted no time in administering medi-gel. A confused look crossed the batarian's face before relief took its place. He drew a deep breath, exhaled. "Thanks. Almost forgot what breathing was like."

Garrus sheathed his weapon. "You were saying something about being harvested?"

"Yeah," the batarian murmured, shifting position until he hugged his drawn knees. "Bunch of guys in black robes. Always have an Eclipse merc or two with them. They hang around the alleys waiting on poor bastards like me to die." He shook his head. "You're barely cold when they start cutting you up."

"Sounds like my kind of people," Grunt remarked with a grim smile.

Garrus' eyes narrowed. Eclipse's involvement only spelled trouble. "Why do they do that?"

"Black market likely possibility," Mordin suggested, his expression hard. "Took care of a few organ thieves myself back in clinic."

The batarian leaned forward, pointing one finger at Mordin. "Hey, I've been on this hellhole long enough to know what a black market op looks like, and this ain't it," he insisted. "They only take certain parts- a leg, a head, hell even a finger. I once saw them cut off a turian's-"

"We get the idea," Garrus interrupted, unable to repress a shudder at what the batarian implied. "Did you see what they looked like?"

He responded with a snort. "Just think of what you three would look like if parts of you were patched together."

A confusing, somewhat unsettling observation. "Do you think they're the same as the body that was here?" Garrus asked Mordin.

"Uncertain. Must run tests. Need more data."

Garrus nodded. "Did you see two humans here before?" he said to the batarian.

"Oh, yeah," he replied, not bothering to hide his sneer. "I tried to keep my distance. Don't really like looking at humans. Makes me wish I was completely blind."

Garrus, whose own opinion of humans depended more on character and less on looks (he was a poor judge of what humans considered attractive- Shepard notwithstanding) nonetheless felt the slight against her insulting. Kneeling in front of him, he smirked and leaned in close. "How about a little more detail and a little less commentary?" He flashed his pistol, adding, in mild tones, "We're in something of a hurry."

Grunt punctuated this statement by firing a warning shot just past the batarian's ear. He flinched violently, his arms reaching over his head. "You don't have to shoot me! All right, all right," he said quickly, shying away when Garrus grabbed a fistful of his shirt. "The two humans were standing by that ship over there," he explained, gesturing for Kaidan's craft. "Someone started shooting at them from right over my head. The humans shot back and the guy fell from the catwalk. They came over to check on it when it sat up and stabbed them in their necks."

Garrus did not like the sound of that one bit. "Were they-" he broke off. Damn. He could barely bring himself to say the word. Regaining as much control as his current emotional state would allow, he went on. "Were either of them hurt?"

A shrug. "Don't know. Both went limp, like they just passed out."

"Yes? What happened then?" This from Mordin, who had leaned forward like an avid child captivated by a story. Grunt also had his attention riveted to the batarian, one hand tightening on his assault rifle.

"More harvesters showed up and carried them away. Seemed real interested in one of them. Kept saying a name over and over again." He gave a short laugh. "Glad they didn't come after me."

Garrus knew there was no need to ask whose name the harvesters kept repeating. Shepard's reputation always preceded her, never more so than now. "Thanks for the information," he said to the batarian, releasing him and rising to his feet.

Another shrug. "That's about all I'm good for," he remarked before coughing into his cupped hand. Mordin left him with more medi-gel, as well as directions to the clinic. He spoke so swiftly Garrus doubted the batarian understood. But he accepted the medi-gel with a nod, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Moments later he started snoring. Loudly.

Grunt approached Garrus as Mordin joined him. "How are we going to find where those bastards took Shepard?"

"Staking out the back alleys might be our best bet," Garrus responded curtly. "If we find one of the harvesters we can pump it for information."

The krogan grinned, his eyes gleaming with the eagerness for battle commonplace in his species. "I like the sound of that. A lot."

Truth be told, so did Garrus. His anger hadn't been this strong since the time he and Shepard stormed the warehouse in pursuit of Harkin. Cornering him had been as satisfying as when he lodged a bullet in the back of Sidonis' head. Regardless, he had the presence of mind to understand one was better than three for this mission. "I'll go. I know my way around the alleys. And when I find them-" he lifted his pistol, eyeing it with the utmost anticipation. "-I plan on making them regret this."

Grunt gave an approving laugh. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. Good hunting."

***

After parting ways with the other two, Mordin promising to update him on the blood samples, Garrus, having retrieved his helmet, ventured into Omega's filthy back alleys. He decided it'd be easier obtaining information as Archangel rather than Garrus Vakarian; reports of his alter ego's 'death' would certainly keep things in his favor. He doubted that Eclipse, or the Blood Pack and Blue Suns for that matter, had fully recovered from his presence. Just one more thing I've got in common with Shepard, he thought with a wry smile as he took position atop a building. Nothing scares someone more than a ghost.

The alley stretched below him, rank with the stench of sickness, refuse and the combined, indescribable scents that were always present in a multiracial settlement. At first it had sickened him, much like the smell of blood. But, as with all things, one gets accustomed when necessity is involved.

Or comfort.

Garrus could not deny it. The time spent on the mission, of being on call to march into battle at her side to its final culmination at the Collector base, had conditioned him to always having Shepard near; her absence was reminiscent of a physical blow he had yet to recover from. His eyes narrowed, his hands curled into fists. He'd be damned if he lost her again. Removing the sniper rifle from his back, he propped it on the ledge and peered through the scope.

The majority of the squatters were batarian, with some vorcha and humans thrown into the mix. All the species kept to their own kind, huddled around blazing waste receptacles, rummaging through piles of salvage, or curled up in corners. The sight infuriated Garrus. Here was the result of Omega's corrupted, lawless system oppressing the weak with impenetrable force. Every time he shot a merc, or hijacked a vessel filled with illicit goods, he believed it was another support broken away from those in power. The reality was for all his team's efforts, their disruptions were about as effective as trying to fly a ship into another system without enough fuel: pointless. His one consolation was that taking down Garm, Jaroth and Tarak had significantly reduced the three gangs' presence. But he knew that it was only a matter of time before one of the three gangs tried to gain a foothold again. Eclipse, it seemed, was it. No matter. Its biggest mistake was targeting Shepard; Garrus had every intention of making them wish they hadn't.

An hour passed. Two. He remained vigilant for any sign of harvesters, selecting new positions in which to survey the alley. So intent on searching for cowled heads he was taken aback by the few quarians that happened by. Chiding himself, he went to move to another location when he heard a low voice murmur, "Please...don't do this..." to his left. Slowly, Garrus crept across the rooftop and glanced over the edge, seeing a narrow space branching off from the alley. A batarian lay on the ground, one hand lifted in a pleading gesture. Standing above him were two figures. One wore the unmistakable yellow of an Eclipse merc. The other, a black robe. Garrus readied himself for combat.

The harvester had knelt beside the batarian, ignoring his continued protests as it withdrew a large, rather nasty looking serrated knife. Garrus watched, part disgusted, part fascinated, as the harvester glided the blade across the batarian's cheek, neck and brow. The Eclipse merc, human and looking decidedly bored, scowled. "Hurry up," he insisted impatiently. "Doc says he needs these parts before the latest batch goes bad." When there was no response his scowl deepened. "Goddamn creepy things," he muttered. "Gotta go through some crazy ritual just to cut someone up."

Ritual was right. The harvester's knife had traveled down the batarian's chest in slow, spiraling motions. When it rested on the right arm the harvester froze. The would-be victim began whimpering, then started to scream as the harvester pressed the blade in. A single red line formed on the surface of the skin before Garrus opened fire.

His shot pierced the harvester's left temple and exploded out the right. Bits of blood and brain splattered onto the ground, soaking the discarded papers there. The body teetered for an instant, then exploded into pieces. Most landed on the batarian, who reacted with a gasping cry before he scurried away. Garrus, briefly distracted by the odd yet hauntingly familiar way the body fell apart, suddenly came back to the present at hearing a weapon being drawn. He barely managed to duck for cover as a stream of bullets soared past him. At hearing the echo of an empty clip Garrus stood and unleashed a concussive shot. The merc flew back a good several feet, crashing into a pile of old ship parts. The turian made short work of descending the building; the instant the merc jumped to his feet Garrus was there.

"Holy shit!" he gasped, his eyes wide. His hands fumbled for his gun. "Archangel! But you're dead!"

Garrus responded by slamming the merc against the wall. His pistol clattered to the ground. "Dead?" he repeated in a throaty growl. He chuckled and leaned forward, applying pressure to the human's neck. "If so, then you must be too. Or you're seeing a ghost."

Knowledge that he was definitely still alive put some fire into the merc's eyes. "Fuck you," he spat. "I know what you did to the old boss and the others. If you want answers, ask someone else. I'm not talking."

"Is that so?" Garrus delivered a devastating punch to the man's gut. His eyes bulged, his mouth dropped open, his voice choked on an anguished cry before he collapsed. Garrus planted a heavy foot on the human's shoulder, keeping him pinned on the ground. "I'm not here about your new boss, or even what you plan on doing here. I'm more interested in them," he said, motioning at the remains of the harvester. The sick batarian, he noticed, cowered nearby, watching the scene with glazed, frightened eyes.

"I don't know about the harvesters!" the merc protested, grimacing. One hand pressed against his abdomen, as if it somehow allayed his pain. "They belong to the doctor. He pays us to escort them into the back alleys to collect body parts."

"Who's the doctor? What does he want the parts for?"

"Beats me," he replied through clenched teeth. "I just collect my pay and go. Better that way." He yelped then, for Garrus leaned over, snatched him by the collar and hoisted him off his feet. "Stop, stop, stop!" he cried, his color draining when Garrus shoved his gun into his face. "I told you everything I know!"

Garrus clicked the gun. The merc trembled in his grasp; he had the feeling that had he bothered to look, he would have seen he soiled his pants, too. "Not everything. You escort them here, you escort them back to the doctor. I need to know where that is."

"What? He'd kill me if I told you that!"

"Oh? Would you rather die here?" Garrus asked, pressing the gun into his cheek. There was a brief, tense moment before the merc shook his head. Selfish son of a bitch, Garrus thought sourly. You'd kill an innocent without a thought, but you'll save your own ass when your death stares you in the face. "Well?" he said, withdrawing his gun and releasing him. "I'm listening."

"Shit," the merc grumbled, looking angry at himself as he rubbed his hands together. But he was quick to speak the moment Garrus took a threatening step forward. "The boss hired the salarian doctor to create more men for Eclipse. He does it by sending those guys-" he indicated the mess of meat and bone that had once been a harvester- "out to collect body parts from batarians, humans and other salarians."

This was getting more and more hauntingly familiar. Garrus could not quite place why just yet. His thoughts had yet to adjust. "Why only parts?" he asked.

"Damned if I know. I'm telling the truth!" he added, warding Garrus off by lifting his hands, palms facing out. "Go ask him yourself. The doctor works out of his ship, Eternity. Refurbished Kowloon conveyer. It's docked on the far side of Omega. You can't miss it." Another pause, followed by the merc's somewhat irritated expression. "Hey, that's all the info I got for you. Want to ease up on me?" he asked, looking as if he were about to step back.

Garrus prevented it by flashing his gun. "I've got one more question for you, and you better have the answer," he threatened. The merc blanched, hands up. Enjoying the fear in the other man's eyes (maybe a little too much) he said, "Those harvesters took someone hostage earlier today. A woman. Is she on the Eternity?"

The merc turned thoughtful, then delighted. "Oh yeah," he chuckled. "The boss'll be glad knowing we got our hands on Commander Shepard. Heard the doc has something special in store for her." His grin turned malicious. "Hope he cuts her up. Bitch deserves it."

Garrus' eyes narrowed. A red haze seemed to drape across his vision; it wasn't until after the merc's face was awash in blood that he realized he had driven the butt of his pistol into the human's nose. Grabbing hold of the back of his collar, he dragged the sputtering, groaning merc out of the alley, past several gawking witnesses, before hurling him into a pile of refuse. The vorcha gathered there snarled at the intrusion and scattered.

He was on his way back to the harvester when Mordin contacted him. "Sample analysis inconclusive," he reported, sounding disappointed. "Any other leads?"

"A few," Garrus replied, now standing over the dead harvester. He relayed its location to Mordin. "I also know where the Eclipse is holding Shepard. I'm going there now."

"Alone?" Miranda's voice cut in. "Don't be foolish. You need at least two other people with you to have any chance for success."

Garrus had the utmost respect for Miranda, notably for her no-nonsense attitude and capability as a leader. She also did not resent or even question his new role as Shepard's lover; it simply was. And it was this reason that Garrus said, a little harsher than intended, "I know what I'm doing. I'll be back soon, and with the commander."

"Garrus-" Miranda began, but her words were lost to static as he deactivated the comm link. His mind set, he began walking, his pace swift and jerky. Those who were in his path quickly stepped aside. Garrus did not see them, or anything else for that matter. All his thoughts were focused on the salarian doctor the merc mentioned, and his unknown plans for Shepard. What possible connection could she have to him? The only salarian doctor she knew, or had known, outside of Mordin was-

No. It couldn't be. He was dead. Garrus himself had made sure of it. But then, Shepard had made a miraculous return from the grave. Only one way to find out.

Emerging from the alley into the crowded marketplace, Garrus jogged, then ran, toward his destination. As he did he passed the mad batarian prophet, his warning of, 'The end is nigh!' chasing him all the way through the markets.