Chapter 4

There was an acutely uncomfortable silence between the trio as they waited for the airlock to cycle open. The doors grunted and slid apart, and Shepard led her team aboard Omega.

"Where'd ya get that hunk'o'junk, Commander?" The turian who was stationed to guard the entrance to the station from this particular access point only jutted his sharp chin in the direction of the Normandy SR-2, visible through the grimy windows of the airlock. "Same place your mother found you," she interjected with a slight grin. The turian broke into barking laughter, much to Garrus' chagrin, who found the joke not particularly funny and far more of an insult.

Nevertheless, Shepard found herself glancing off in the direction the security officer had indicated with his all too pointed stare. From this particular vantage point, there was a distinct tear visible in the Normandy's hull, easily spanning two decks and tearing through the Combat Information Center. Faint electrical discharge shimmered across the barrier as flecks of dust bombarded the ship. For the next three hours or so, the Normandy would be discharging any built up electrical charge from running the drive core for such a long period of time. For the duration, the ship would have to be grounded to the station's electrical discharge system and passage to and from the Normandy would have to be restricted unless the procedure was paused. No doubt that on better days, Shepard would not toss an opportunity for a little pick-me-up at Afterlife's bar, but today of all days she felt antsy and in a rush.

Without further stalling, the guard motioned they were clear to go. There, in the halls, the atmosphere was muffled, the only sounds coming from the rattling of the life support systems, accompanied by a slight tremor in the floors that came from a rather unstable air conditioning pipe latched underneath the panels. Now that they had entered the station proper, a sudden low thrum of many voices filled the air, interspersed by a deep boom that could only be the bass tones of the heavy music coming from Afterlife. The line was as long as usual.

And those Elcor as damned impassive as always, Shepard thought to herself, motioning for Garrus to come up alongside. He had yet to return to Omega since his hectic extraction. "You're trouble, you know," she chided.
"Trouble?"
"Don't play daft, you know what I mean." She had the urge to elbow him one in the gut, but it would have much the same effect as flicking a piece of sheet metal.

"In all honesty," the turian began, pausing when he noticed Miranda making exasperated noises behind them. "I doubt I will be all too recognizable. After all, none of them ever came close enough to see my face." Shepard shuddered when the turian's scarred face split into a wolfish grin, all too indicative of what he did to the mercs that dared come after him. Didn't change the fact that he would have been dead meat had she not arrived when she did, gunship and whatnot. While his face had recovered somewhat, bandages still covered the many portions of his face where the explosion had left his flesh raw and tender, no longer protected by the thick, turian plates.

"Yeah well, assuming they even consider your ugly mug worth staring at," Miranda sneered. She'd never been bestest of friends with the turian, but she had enough respect that they were cordial with a hint of friendly rivalry. At best,. Shepard knew Miranda resented that many leadership opportunities that fell to the turian rather than to herself, but both she and Miranda knew well enough that to Shepard, Garrus was far more trustworthy. "Ridiculous worries aside, I do believe we have an appointment to make."

"And we will," Shepard sighed, pushing past the line of waiting patrons queued for entrance to Afterlife.
"What the fuck! She cut the line! Who the hell does she think she is? Da hell man, I've been waiting for hours!"
"Inflammatory response: She thinks she is Commander Shepard. Condescending remark: It has been fifteen minutes," the elcor grunted.

Garrus couldn't help but stare at the swaying hips of the Asari strippers on the table in front of them, failing to note the mildly amused expression the two human women exchanged. The beat of the music made his insides shiver and churn, the lighting giving a sense of intimacy he felt almost uncomfortable with. He had never been one to frequent Afterlife. For that matter, he had only once before come to the club, and that was for a victory drink with his squad mates back before... well, before they were betrayed. Since then, he hadn't had much appetite for merry-making, though he found other ways to drink himself silly. He felt an impatient shove on his shoulder and noticed Miranda was about a second away from stomping onto his foot with those deadly, heeled shoes.

"Can you believe him?" the operative teased.
"What did I do now?" he shot back in a far too defensive tone, having to yell to be heard above the loud music. Great, he sounded guilty already.
"Asari ass? What is it with this whole galaxy and their fascination for blue booty?"
"W-Well, I- ...I don't know! It's just um... you see... I uh..." He couldn't see Shepard's face, but he was rather sure her shaking shoulders could only mean she was laughing at him, especially after such a stuttered, idiotic comment.
"You see," Miranda pouted at the Commander. "Asari ass is apparently much better that anything I have to offer." Her hand slapped her rear audibly in his direction, those flirty eyes pinning him with far too heated a glance.

"Down girl," Shepard teased. While she was well within her rights to give Miranda a fairly hefty talking to for such ludicrous behaviour, she tersely reminded herself the operative had no regard for military law. Be it as it may, while the Commander saw fit to run the vessel as a military cruiser, her staff followed protocol only to appease her, not so much for any sort of forthcoming disciplinary action that would potentially arise. More so, Miranda knew that she had more boundary-pushing leeway than most, but could get the job done when necessary. Perhaps that's why Shepard would often let her have her little jokes, inappropriate as they were. Not to mention, judging from the turian's state of emotion at the moment, he was probably wishing Shepard would interfere.

Garrus' mandibles flared as far as they could possibly go, dying of such embarrassment he could hardly recall the last time he had felt such a preposterous volume of shame. "Tag team, no fair."

"Never said anything," Shepard finally spoke from up ahead. Her tone struck him as out of place. Was she... miffed? He couldn't quite tell what that meaning it carried was, but neither did he have much chance to press upon it, for they had finally worked their way through the crowd to the back of the club where the sloping ramps lead to the second level.

And Aria.

...

"Hold on a sec!" Shepard's stomach nearly flipped upside-down when the queasy looking batarian bodyguard Aria T'loak had hired shoved his way into her face. Not only did he look like shit, he quite frankly smelt like it too. Absolutely rancid. Meaning to push past him regardless - he'd let her pass countless times before - Shepard was surprised to see his hand coming up to grab her by the collar. Unfortunately, before she had a chance to make a diplomatic statement and be on her way, Garrus had already taken hold of the batarian's wrist and had wrested it away.

"Watch who you touch," that flanging voice spat. His grip must have been strong enough, for the guard showed obvious signs of discomfort and his turian pal was already rushing from across the platform, weapon drawn and ready.

"Call off your dog! Now!" The batarian only squealed. It wasn't long before three more goons brandished weapons all trained at Garrus' sloping forehead.
"Enough, Garrus! Let him go!" Her hand batted the turian's arm away. The Officer paused, halting to feel the pressure of Shepard's hand pressing down on his arm dissipate before Garrus more so threw the batarian away from him.
"Look, I don't want trouble," Shepard pleaded.
"You've earned it already," the bodyguard hissed, his opposite hand rubbing weakly at the precise spot where Garrus' iron grip had twisted his arm. They looked all too ready to open fire before a familiar authority decided to interject.

"I swear I hired morons." Aria's triumphant, relaxed posture grated just slightly on Shepard's already fraying nerves. There was a reason she was set on leaving Garrus behind on the ship; he'd cause less trouble there. Not to mention, her blood pressure would probably remain on a more stable level than she was currently at. Frankly, she was surprised how the hell she hadn't been fired upon yet, what with Garrus' paper thin temper and Miranda's idiosyncratic flirtatiousness. "Look you dipshits," the self-styled 'Pirate Queen of Omega' continued to berate. "Next time you feel like starting drama all over the fucking place, check to see who the hell you start it with. You'd swear all those eyes in your fucking skull were pointless pieces of paper plastered on, for all the use you give them. Shepard, come." The last bit was pointedly aimed not at the Commander, but the batarian bodyguard who had clearly failed to recognize the the approaching guest.

Shepard couldn't help but feel slightly smug, and from the corner of her eyes noted the same sentiment was reflected in Garrus' stiff, threatening posture. She'd never quite noticed how tall and imposing this particular turian was compared to the rest. She'd never really seen much need in comparing Garrus to most other turians, for that matter, but it was a small observation that struck her as she watched him brush aside his fellow aliens. The thought nagged at her just slightly, for it wasn't an observation she had ever thought to make. Granted, since her assignment to the Council Spectres, Shepard had often been forced to work with turians and human alike. Scratch that; she'd only ever worked with Garrus on a close basis. All the other turians had been random decoration in day to day activities that blended just about as well into the background as a potted fern did. Prior to that, she had seen turians and salarians and asari, you name it, in just about every single briefing holo-vid, but never quite face to face. Be it as it may, humans were still widely regarded as the spoiled brat of the universe with one too many bully tendencies. The other species accepted them, but only to such an extent, enough that most had steered clear of her in her career.

The exchange with the infamous Aria T'loak began as could be expected. Shepard took her seat on the stiff, patent leather couch, exchanged a cordial nod and silently, watched as Miranda shifted her body to place herself in the most visually appealing display of hanging cleavage. Garrus, seated across from them found himself looking at anything but the Cerberus operative, namely, Shepard. He watched the planes of her face shift as she explained the need for labour, her brows furrowing as Aria's almost negative reply returned. He couldn't quite understand what the purpose of that feathery material hanging from human scalps was good for, aside from an annoyance. He found himself watching as the Commander brushed the strands away from her face and behind an ear, only for it to fall back again. He'd seen her once before with a pair of shears, hastily clipping at it, tufts of burnished red all around her. 'Hair', the humans called it.

"I need labour," Shepard was saying. Briefly, her eyes flicked in Garrus' direction, catching his own in an inquisitorial sort of glance. He was quick to avert his own gaze, lest she realize he had been staring the entire time. Humans were touchy about prolonged eye contact, more so than turians, wherein eye contact was considered sincere respect. Or a challenge.
"Work crews will be expensive," the kingpin mussed. "No good, honest labour will be swarming to Omega anytime soon. Cheap, fast or quality work: at most, expect to pick only two out of three."
Shepard scoffed, placing her slender chin into her palm. "Yes, well, I had a feeling that would be the case."

"Don't get me started on materials," Aria replied, her devilish smirk giving the asari a most calculating look. "I assume you have the funds to toss about however, given your new, eh... loyalties?" A sharp nail indicated the black and orange suit, borrowed from Miranda's wardrobe, though quite pointedly zipped to its full extent. The Commander saw little reason to have her ta-ta's bouncing about. It was far more of a security concern, though Miranda sure didn't mind. She was paying far more attention to toying with whatever guard was foolish enough to give her their attention, though somehow, Shepard had a feeling she hadn't missed a single part of the conversation.

"I borrowed it," Shepard grumbled. "Let's just say my own wardrobe had a little run-in with several armaments."
"And here I thought you were finally looking for a man to warm your bed," Aria spoke through a smirk, watching as Shepard scoffed and waved her hand in an attempt to have the conversation dropped.

"So tell me, Shepard..." The Commander could only tilt an eyebrow, watching as Aria spread her arms over the back of the couch and spread her legs into a relaxed, almost masculine portrayal. "Your turian friend... Archangel, I suppose?" There was little chance for Shepard to say otherwise, for Garrus flinched most visibly at the mention of his old moniker. Aria grinned from ear to ear. "You're a wanted man, I must say. Not that I envy you. Fuck your life if they ever catch up to you."

"We're done," Shepard interrupted. This was a train she wanted to stop before it had a chance to leave the platform. Whatever direction this conversation could head it, it only screamed bad, bad and absolutely bad. There was no denying Aria was fit to sell her information to the highest bidder should she so wish.

"Now now, don't ruin my fun. But whatever; you have business, I have business. It's life."
"Yeah, well, thanks for the insight."
The kingpin snickered. "You amuse me, Shepard."
"Maybe I will talk to you some other time then."
"And maybe I will be here," that phrased drifted after her turned back.

Author's Note: I'm am so sorry, to all my readers, that this had taken so long. It reached a point where this train ended up in a station and just couldn't roll back out again, but I have somehow worked up the motivation and I sincerely hope that by the end of Novemeber, this story will be finished.

So stay tuned, review and let me know what you think and I hope this turns out well.
Oh yes, Garrus has a thing for asari booties. Is Shep gonna take that? :3