Standard Disclaimers: I neither own Mass Effect 2 or any of its characters, worlds, or concepts. Suing me will get you a grumpy yellow lab and little else.

It was a delicate bit of timing. Thane stood by the hatch and counted the seconds, eyes briefly closed, as in his mind he let Shepard walk down the docking corridor. One yard, two, three. It wasn't a long corridor, badly lit and subject to steam leaking from various pipes. Being seen wasn't as much a concern as being heard was. The station was loud, inadequate insulation in the walls often allowing sound to jumble up and echo in odd ways. Given where they were docked, he'd have to let her get at least two-thirds of the way to the inner doors if he wanted to be certain she wouldn't hear the hatch of the Normandy opening again behind her. Two-thirds but not much further if he didn't want to be too far behind to follow once she was out into the station proper. Omega often swallowed people whole and even he couldn't always find someone again once it did.

It was odd just how determined he was to not let the Commander operate as an unprotected target tonight. Perhaps it was simple boredom, of a sort. While he had no lack of testing his skills in open combat of late, there was a distinct lack of stealth in any part of this mission. Stretching himself by evading not one, but three trained sets of eyes, was certainly a challenge enough to have piqued his interest.

Perhaps. But it was his resolve that had been piqued as well.

Her shoes, heeled boots made of flimsy leather with a scuff along the back, would click rather than clunk. Such footwear might unconsciously prompt a woman to take smaller steps and he was sure that the lack of weapons probably affected something in her gait, unconscious or not. However, he couldn't be certain whether she'd be walking quickly, goal-orientated, or languidly, cover-orientated. Shepard in armor or Shepard in uniform, he could predict with a comfortable amount of accuracy. Shepard in heels, however, was something entirely new.

Slight smirk on her face but shoulders set firmly. One hand falling to the curve of her hip as she rounded the door to the hatch. Monitor light casting yellow-red down her back.

She'd walk quickly.

Not only was the Justicar waiting, but even more importantly Morinth was waiting. Every moment the Commander wasn't there to draw her potential attention was a moment someone more innocent might.

Thane opened his eyes and without pause started the hatch cycle. The moments it took to run had been factored into his wait and as he stepped through he looked for Shepard. She had just reached a little past where he'd expected and she never looked back as she made the turn for the interior.

The scent of the station, the acidic tang of sweat and pheromones from disparate biological life forms coupled with rock and metal, filled his nose. The first steps on any planet or station were like that, the initial rush of a different environment was always strong, soon fading as senses acclimated. Omega's presence was stronger than most. The life support filters on the hollowed asteroid had been originally designed to handle the larger particulate matter that the mining had thrown up into the created atmosphere. Those ancient smugglers first making use of the space had survival, not luxury on their minds. Granted, as the years passed and the revolving door of illegal owners came and went, there had been likely hundreds of upgrades or repairs done. It was doubtful that any of them had been documented properly and as a result, even if one had wanted to do a full overhaul it would be impossible. Who knew what system tied in where, what components were used to cobble this or that? Besides, it worked.

Omega was not a place that needed to smell good.

Omega was home to about 8 million people, all crammed into a maze of tunnels and central structures haphazardly cut into a rock about 4 ½ km long. Miles of corridors, pancake architecture, with no central repository of plans except for an aging human woman named Hannah who had a ramshackle collection of data pads, paper maps, and schematics that one could rummage through if the payment was good. Such chaos had its challenges when it came to trailing a target but he'd followed a mark through much worse.

He was fairly certain Irikah had done it on purpose too, just to annoy him.

The memory flitted but he resisted the urge to allow it to flow over him. Later. For the moment, for the now, he had to focus on Shepard. His wife would wait for him and a more appropriate time, as she always had and always would. The Afterlife loomed ahead of him, a somewhat ironic thing to note considering, as he passed through the doors onto the pseudo-promenade that marked the station's welcome to guests. Music and the low murmur of people talking. Towering buildings off in the distance but a nicely containable area to work in.

The drell slid to the left of the door with such grace that the asari and human male talking amid the crates there barely noticed him. He angled his body, mimicking an interest in their conversation, an inclusion that wasn't his, even as he took the time to scout the milling group in front of the club. Though he didn't expect to find her in line, he was thorough and checked with a flick of the eyes only. He'd learned last time that the Afterlife seldom made females wait to enter. They were part of the draw for the males and those males, one could argue, were the customers that the establishment particularly catered to.

No, she wasn't in line. However, neither was she walking up the steps to the club nor were the doors swinging closed.

Unexpected but not quite enough so for alarm. Thane's expression remained calm, perhaps faintly curious as he began to look around. He focused on the right, the layout of the area at the forefront of his thoughts. There was nothing much to the left except transportation that lead to other hubs and he highly doubted she was over there. The club was here. She had no reason to go to an entirely different neighborhood. Of course, if he couldn't spot her within a few minutes he may have to expand his searching.

Unnecessary. One of the many benefits of that shirt was that her skin made enough of a contrast to the rest of her clothing to serve as an impromptu flag. She was making her way towards the lower city and housing. He casually pulled away from the shadows of his wall. The path to the lower city was divided by a rather large section of pipes. He remained several yards behind and on the opposite side of those pipes from Shepard, moving confidently enough. If she wasn't going through the front, she was obviously heading for the lower levels or the VIP room. He knew where both of those locations were and felt that this, plus the fact that there was a set of double doors coming up, was reason enough to give her a little space.

A little but not too much. He'd been amazed too many times at the Commander's uncanny ability to find the innocent in need of help, the hopeless in need of blunt motivation, and the criminal in need of killing in even the most straight-forward of situations. What was truly odd was that she never seemed to really look for it either. The Commander merely walked by, asked questions, and ended up acting.

Yet another reason to be watching. The lower city held more than its fair due of all three of those types of people. Shepard's steel gaze and steady tone could sooth most troublesome situations but in places like this there were no guarantees.

A case in point. He was passing an unmanned store that had, last he'd known, sold various bits of salvage. Some distance ahead of him, Shepard was approaching a stairwell on the right side of the corridor, leading up to the back of the marketplace. The vagrant she walked by first, sitting in filth and staring, paid her no attention just as she ignored him. The vorcha gathered in a knot nearby were more attentive.

They watched her as she neared, grumbling under their breaths, egging each other on with the non-verbals of pack language. Prey? Entertainment? Something. Bravery wasn't a trait often associated with the species but unpredictability was. Thane was moving forward, more quickly than was strictly prudent, before he caught himself. They were just yapping among themselves. They weren't doing anything. Don't break cover for a non-verified problem.

The reminder of the benefits to patience paid off. Shepard was half-way up the stairs by the time he was at its base and the vorcha had a new focus.

He'd appeared rather quickly, after all and it disturbed them.

"What you want? Move! Go!" the one closest to him snapped.

"Our place. Go or we hurt!" the chiming was from the back, a challenge that both spurred on the group but also lay restlessly on their shoulders. A fight was something to be anticipated, but even Omega had rules about where and when they should happen. This drell was armed. This drell was quick. Thane raised one hand in a conciliatory gesture, even as his other fell to his hip and the weapon easily seen there.

At least three steps left until Shepard made the top and that's if she didn't stop to look behind her. The vorcha, unfortunately, were making noise enough for her to do so. He couldn't add his voice with its decidedly recognizable timber and flanging to the mix. He fell back a step, standing alongside the drunk now, completely shielded from the staircase view.

"I think they are talking to you," Thane murmured to the drunk.

The man roused himself and stared at him, shocked. The drell's words took a moment to pierce the haze but when it did the reaction was immediate. "But I'm not doing anything!" He protested more out of habit than understanding. Thane merely nodded to the vorcha, encouraging the man to focus on them rather than on him. The drunk did so, confusion becoming belligerence, "I was here first, I'm not goin' no where."

The leading vorcha sneered and began shouting almost immediately. Within his limited vocabulary he displayed surprising creativity and a clear yet surprising grasp of human anatomy. The drunk began to stand up and Thane reached to subtly angle himself around the man, using him as cover even as he crouched slightly and stole a glance up the stairs.

She was gone.

And by the time the vorcha had finished posturing for the benefit of the uncertain drunk, so was Thane.

""You must go in alone," the Justicar's voice was smooth and low. In some ways it reminded him of the clergy among the Hanar. A serenity in the velvet, a stability beneath the silk. That serenity was marred now, a thread or two of tension notable as she instructed Shepard. "Morinth will be watching. Like any predator she is cautious. You must pique her interest enough that she will approach you. When you are face to face, subtly encourage her to invite you to her apartment. I'll follow discreetly and when you are alone, I'll spring the trap."

That was the plan as Shepard had described, more or less. The Commander nodded and reached for her shoulder, rotating it briefly as if testing or stretching out the joint. It was a gesture that Thane had come to recognize, though he was still deciding what it meant. She did it often enough to be simple habit, but it also could have been due to particular pain or wear from past battles. Given her unique circumstances, it might even have been something less straight forward, like issues with whatever technology had been used to bring her back from the dead.

There was the impression that Shepard might have spoken then, had the Justicar given her the chance. Samara was too quick, though, urgency spurring her on. "Know this. Until I get there you are in great peril. She will be planning to inflict horrors on you. If you aren't careful, you'll want her too."

Knife. Pistol. Rifle. Biotics to throw the asari back if needed. He did not know the details of what an asari could do to a mind while joining or planning to join. Touch didn't seem to be needed but he was fairly certain that should he break Morinth against the nearest wall, matters would be at least interrupted.

"How can I spark her interest when I'm not even talking to her?" Shepard asked. A fair enough question. Thane thought that with the usual crowd of the Afterlife as contrast, she had a much better than average chance at doing that naturally though, without any coaching.

"Courage or suicidal bravery could attract her…"

Ah. Shepard definitely had nothing to worry about, then.

Thane listened as the Justicar went through the psychology of her target without pause. The familiarity with which she listed out the asari's habits, desires and weaknesses made it clear that the Justicar had thought about this Morinth for quite some time.

"…She'll want you the moment she sees you. The rest is just a matter of overpowering her caution."

There was a krogan, a young one with hardly any shoulder hump to speak of, walking down the corridor. Neither Shepard nor Samara appeared to notice him just yet and his path wouldn't intersect with theirs. Not an obvious danger, no. The Justicar and Commander were standing behind boxes, shielded by trash from general view. Still, voices could carry. They should be cautious.

"…she admires strength, directness and vigor. Modesty, chivalry or meekness will frustrate and bore her. Violence excites her. You've killed, Shepard. She'll like that."

"Getting her alone and then falling under her sway," Shepard noted, showing some sign that she was taking the Justicar's warnings to heart. "That'll require careful timing."

"I will be near and I will come for you, Shepard. Trust me as I trust and honor you."

Dark eyes studied the Justicar's face sharply, watching the slight widening of those blue eyes and the way elegant fingers were twitching, trying not to ball up into fists.

This was no simple reiteration of the plan nor was it calming reassurance.

The words from Samara's lips were a vow. An oath spoken by one who had reason to fear the reasons the oath was needed, given with all the fervency of a deathbed promise.

Thane's attention had been wandering. Not greatly but enough to entertain musings, not unforgivably for at this moment Shepard was perfectly safe after all.

No more.

"Let's get started," Shepard said grim determination the only identifiable thing in her tone. The Commander was ready.

"Shepard, we only get one chance at this," the Justicar was less composed, though it was only in her repeated cautions that she truly showed it. "Any mistake and Morinth will disappear. If you are the least bit unsure come talk to me. I will wait here." She shifted her weight, hesitating uncharacteristically, "And Shepard? Thank you. I do not share this burden easily and you are the only soul I can imagine sharing it with."

The drell allowed that, just perhaps, the Justicar wasn't so different from him after all. The Commander didn't say anything in return to Samara, though Thane assumed that there was some sort of non-verbal acknowledgement. Perhaps a gesture of support to go with a confident expression? Whatever that last interaction was, Thane didn't see it.

He was already too busy belly-crawling away from them, tucked behind and hidden by the curve of the massive pipes set against the wall directly across from them. Once the crates of trash served to block him from their eyes, he uncurled and slid out, heading for the doorway to the Afterlife.

Clubs, even dives in places like Omega, had more than one exit. Samara was staying outside this one, assuming.

Thane assumed nothing. Again, he followed.

Author's Notes:

For those of those who sent reviews without email addresses to reply to – thanks so much for taking the time! I am sorry this one took /just/ a little longer to come out but I had to replay the game to see the mission again. Totally worth it! (I saved Tali this time ;))