Eventually, I will sit down and just do a bunch of writing... Nothing but writing for days... Wouldn't that be nice?
But, until such a time as the universe makes me brilliant, I exploit the crap out of Greenyoda987, because she is fabulous and wonderful and makes it look like I can write =P
"I'm sorry, Doctor, can you explain that again?" Even in her white-knuckled grip, the coffee cup clasped in her hands shook as Shepard lifted it to her mouth. The spacious office in Venture Investments seemed alien to her, the immense oaken desk spreading out in front of her like a wooden ocean with a fidgety salarian seated on the opposite shore. The base of her skull pounded and her stomach felt like it were trying to turn itself inside out, but she plastered a calm, curious expression on her face as the alien doctor perked up and began talking again.
"Of course, Ms. Shepard. As I said, the use of omnigel has been made obsolete by more advanced security and replaced by new shunt programs and bypass algorithms. However, the gel itself is still prevalent, and many people still own converters, yet nothing to use the gel for. My research has shown that the gel, once stabilized, can be converted again into numerous useful compounds like medigel, nutrient paste… Possibly even weapons-grade adhesives and explosives."
Shepard's brow furrowed and she set her cup down. The last one didn't concern her, but the rest… "You're sure you can prove that and make it viable?" she asked, spreading her hands flat on the desk.
"Of course!" The salarian perked and began gesturing animatedly, "Omnigel itself is a relatively simple compound, just kept perfectly unstable to perform a variety of technical functions. Because it's made of neutral materials, it can be restabilized back to those original materials, or anything new, depending on the method of conversion. With extra time and funding, I could even unlock the greater weapons potential of—"
"Stop right there," she cut in, "I don't care about weapons possibilities, Doctor, I care about improved livelihoods for all people. Medigel, nutrient paste, all of that… Perfect. But if I agree to fund your research, there will be no studies of weapons in my labs, is that perfectly clear?"
The salarian blinked at her in surprise, opening and closing his mouth a few times before nodding. "Of course, whatever you say, Ms. Shepard. I just assumed, with the Council offering contracts for weapons and paramilitary corporations…"
"Which I am not. I am an investor of funds. My funds. And I will not have my money paying for the next warlord's arsenal." She stood slowly, the blood threatening to leave her skull in protest, and paced to one end of her desk, trailing her fingers along the edge. "Doctor Cirvo, I am going to offer you a contract to continue your work here. I am very interested in the possibility of making medigel and nutrient paste from nothing in an effort to alleviate hunger in the Wards and provide medical attention to those who would not normally receive it. So, I am going to offer you an indefinite contract for however much money you need to continue your work. In return, your work will be published—under your name—as a registered property of Venture Investments to be distributed as I see fit. You will be granted a percentage of any monetary profits, and any new ideas you find or bring forward will be considered for a bonus and new contract." Her knees began to feel weak and she tried to gracefully perch on the corner of her desk, shakily smoothing down the skirt of her dress. "Does this sound acceptable?"
The fidgety doctor stared in wonder and delight, nodding furiously. "Yes! Yes, that's… Yes!" He stood quickly and grabbed her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Thank you, Ms. Shepard!"
Shepard smiled politely and nodded. "Of course, Doctor Cirvo." Reaching back, she pressed the intercom with her thumb. "Jules, will you please bring up a contract for Doctor Cirvo?"
"Of course, ma'am. The usual parameters?"
"No. Doctor Cirvo's contract will be indefinite and he will have any and all funds he requires." Shepard could almost hear her secretary's disbelief, but the young woman managed to keep her composure.
"Of course, right away."
"Thank you." She looked back up at the ecstatic doctor and nodded toward the door. "My secretary will have the documents drawn up. If you'll excuse me?"
"Yes, thank you. Thank you!"
He was gone before she could blink and she fell gratefully back into her chair. As the door shut, she let out a beleaguered sigh, setting her head in her hands. She'd assumed the withdrawal would have held off for at least a day, but as she sat, struggling to keep from vomiting or losing her balance, she wondered if it wouldn't be better for her to go back to her real headquarters and sleep through it. Her hands started to tremble again, and she felt a chill like a finger of ice sliding down her spine. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to will her body into good health. Just a bit longer…
"Ms. Shepard, Mr. Zapeta is here to see you. Again."
Shepard scowled at the floor between her feet. Even Jules seemed to know how little she wanted to see him, of all people. But whatever. "Of course, send him in." She settled back in her chair, elbows set on the armrests, and steepled her fingers, letting the tips of her index fingers tap against her lip.
"Ah, Regina, I knew you couldn't resist me for long." The man who strode into her office didn't seem to notice her dark expression, or the lack of color in her face. "Are you finally going to listen to my ideas?"
"That depends," she murmured quietly as he casually folded himself into the chair opposite her. As he crossed one ankle over his knee, smiling expectantly at her, she had the very sudden urge to throw him out the picture window behind her. Wrong building. Not here. "Are you finally going to bring me something I actually want, Mr. Zapeta?"
"I thought we already agreed you'd call me Brian."
"You agreed, I just listened. Now, why are you here?" She didn't like Zapeta; he was arrogant, entitled, and cared nothing for the people he stepped over on his way to the top. Sure, she might be ruthless, but the people she hurt deserved it. Zapeta conned families out of their savings and put weapons into the hands of pirates and slavers. She didn't have the patience for him normally, and in that second, she wished that it was the Illusive Man he was meeting and not Regina Shepard. Another chill and tremor rocked her and she tried to cover it by scooping up her coffee cup and hurrying to the small bar against the wall to refill it.
"The usual reason: I have an idea."
She rolled her eyes as she filled the porcelain cup, knowing he couldn't see. "Unless it's a new one, I'm not interested. You and I both know that your ideas do not coincide with my business model and intended impacts on the galaxy." As she started back toward her chair, the dizziness faded some and she managed to slide gracefully back behind her desk. Zapeta's eyes narrowed slightly and she took a long sip of coffee. "Is it a new idea?"
"New is a relative term, Regina," he started, gesturing vaguely with one hand. She could see the fingers of his other hand drumming against his leg, betraying his agitation, and resisted the urge to smirk. He was stalling because he knew she wouldn't want to hear what he had to say. Which meant he was desperate, if he was coming to her with a proposal they both knew she would reject. Oh, this might be fun. "I like to think that it's a revisit of a previous endeavor, tailored to fit your needs and the needs of your company." He threw her what he probably thought was his most winning smile and she had to choke down a fresh wave of nausea.
"What I and my company need are research opportunities that don't involve weapons tech, development, smuggling, sabotage, or any combinations of all of those," Shepard countered airily, steaming coffee cradled in her hands as she turned her chair back and forth with the toe of her boot. "Have you brought me such an opportunity?"
"Well… no."
"Then why are you here, Brian?" Her hospitable tone vanished and now she fixed him with a hard, cold stare. "Last I checked, I had promised if you came back to me with another weapons development deal, I would have you forcibly removed from my office. And I will happily make that come true, but I'm giving you the chance to tell me why you're here."
Her words hung in the air between them for a moment, mingling with the steam from her coffee to swirl away into vapor. Zapeta had the good grace to look at least a little bit sheepish and look down at his hands for a moment.
"I'm in trouble."
"From me, or is someone else cross with you?" Zapeta was moneyed, it wouldn't surprise her if he had enemies. Actually, she knew he had enemies. The Illusive Man was one of them, ever since she had "accidentally" extorted millions from Brian's father. But that was years ago, and she knew for a fact they had more than made the money back. Right?
"I… might have made some bad deals with bad people…" For the first time since he'd waltzed into her office, he actually looked contrite, nervous even. "I need money to pay what I owe them, and I know you have money to spare."
Shepard wasn't sure if she should feel dumbfounded or insulted first. "And you want me to just hand over however much it is you need? Pay them back yourself, you're not broke and homeless." She had worked hard to get from the gutter to a corner office, and Zapeta had never seen a hard day in his life. Ok, so she hated him a little bit. A lot. On principle, of course.
Now he looked downright ashamed as he raked a hand back through his hair. "My money's gone."
Huh. Well, then he really was an idiot. "Tough shit."
"Oh come on, Regina. Your company is sitting on trusts totaling over 85 billion credits. A few million going missing for just a little while won't raise any suspicions. You can take my proposals and have them investigated and the results sold for ludicrous profits. Anything new in the field of weaponry sells almost instantaneously. Hell, the Council is looking for anything to give the Spectres an edge. You'll have your money back before your next quarterly financial reports, I guarantee." He leaned forward, elbows set on his knees and his hands clasped between them. "So, do we have a deal?"
Instead of answering, she sipped her coffee, watching him over the rim of her cup with an unwavering gaze. Zapeta tried to maintain eye contact for as long as he could, but finally looked back down at his feet and Shepard huffed out a breath.
"No, Brian, we do not," she finally said, "I am not an ATM to hand over money to you because you need it. Your troubles are your own and it is your job to fix them, not mine." She set her coffee down and feigned interest in the terminal on her desk. "We are not friends, you do not get to ask me for favors."
In an instant, Zapeta was on his feet, leaning over her desk; she couldn't tell if it was anger or panic in his eyes, but she sat back quickly to put distance between them. "Damn it, Regina, would you just give me the money?! Your fucking moral high ground can't be that important!" He jabbed an accusing finger in her face as he continued, "This is the only thing I need from you, and I'll take it if I—"
As soon as his hand made a move toward her face, she ripped her pistol from its hiding place under her desk and had it levelled at his chest. "I suggest," she said, trying to hide the sudden pounding of her heart and the tremor in her breathing, "that you step back, Mr. Zapeta. Or you will sorely regret it." For a second, neither moved and her brow lowered, her finger sliding to stroke the trigger. "Now." Zapeta stepped back, raising his hands in a placating manner, and Shepard pressed the intercom with her free hand. "Jules," she forced out, trying to hide the shake of her hands, and the way her voice cracked, "please call C-Sec to escort Mr. Zapeta off the premises. He is not welcome to return."
"Yes… ma'am. Is there anything else?"
Shepard didn't look away from the man standing over her desk, her gun pointed at his chest. It was always as the Illusive Man that she expected to be threatened in her office, not at Venture, not by someone she was acquainted with. This was… an unforeseen situation. But not one without benefit. "Yes, please request Detective Vakarian's presence. And inform them that I will be seeking a restraining order." The more Vakarian thought she was delicate and needed protecting, the less likely he would be to see her as a threat. Just a shame that Zapeta had to go down for it… Stupid man.
After a few seconds, her secretary responded. "Yes ma'am. They're on their way."
"Fabulous, thank you, Jules." She let a sad smile pull at her lip and gave a small shake of her head. "You are really much more dense than I ever thought if you believed this would be the way to solve your problems," she said quietly, not lowering her gun. Zapeta didn't look away from the barrel pointed at the center of his chest and she sighed. "I thought you were just callous and ambitious, not stupid. I'm usually not wrong. Very disappointing."
Sweat slid down from Zapeta's hairline, leaving wet trails down his cheek until they dripped onto his suit collar. "So what, you're going to kill me?"
She sighed in exasperation, her head beginning to throb insistently. "Were you not listening? No. C-Sec is on their way to deal with you. And since you didn't seem to hear me, there will be a restraining order barring you from returning here in the future." Shepard sat back, keeping the gun raised. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you."
"Would you have?" He lowered his hands slightly and she scowled.
"Would you have gone through with your threat?" She could feel the muscles of her arm beginning to tremble, the effort of keeping the gun up proving to be too much in her weakened state. She tightened her hold on the pistol's grip and swallowed a fresh wave of nausea. When Zapeta didn't answer she shook her head. "Then we'll never know, will we? Sit."
He did as she said, falling back into his previously-vacated chair. For a moment, neither moved, nor spoke, each staring at the other in silence until footsteps echoed from outside.
It was strange, working in a separate office. He was so used to the chaos and roar of the squadroom, that the silence he regularly found himself in was off-putting. His terminal never rang with alerts anymore, and he missed it. Eddie had laughed when he complained about the solitude, but agreed to forward the most urgent messages for his entertainment. For the third time in an hour, he looked up at the livefeed of calls: Zakera, Tayseri, Zakera, Zakera, Kithoi… Presidium? There were never calls from the Presidium… It was probably nothing…
"Hey, Vakarian?"
Garrus looked up from the datapads on his desk, rubbing his eyes tiredly as a young recruit poked her head into his office. Asari, probably just out of her maiden phase, from the look of her scalp—he could still see the marks of dancer's paints. "Yeah?"
"You know a 'Regina Shepard'?"
Like that, his adrenaline was up, and his mandibles snapped tight to his face. He was on his feet in a second, starting for the door. "What happened?" The urgent call… Pallin had told him to keep her happy; alive usually counted toward happiness, and if she was calling C-Sec, something must have been wrong. She was wealthy enough to afford her own security.
The young asari blinked in surprise, trotting to catch up with him as they headed toward the car lot. "Uh… Her secretary called, said they had a disturbance and needed C-Sec assistance in removing a threatening individual from the premises. Ms. Shepard apparently asked for you to be contacted. And she wants a restraining order for the guy."
His browplates lowered and Garrus frowned as he threw open the door to a squad car. "She doesn't have security?" Why the hell not?
"Apparently not. The woman who called said it was urgent, I assume because whoever this guy is, Ms. Shepard is dealing with him herself."
"What?!" Shepard was handling a guy making threats on her own? Was she crazy?! "I'm going over there. Send another car over with back-up, now." Before the recruit could say anything else, he threw the car into gear and took off, sirens wailing as he sped through the Wards. It would take five minutes to get down to the Presidium, and another three to get to Venture from there… Damn it, Shepard… He wasn't sure if she was just an eccentric millionaire, or actually insane.
The drive seemed to take years, though he knew he was speeding and breaking dozens of traffic laws; Pallin would understand, Shepard was his favorite donor. He banked around a corner hard, skycar fishtailing as he slammed the throttle. Venture was only a block away… The car jolted to a stop and he was already halfway up the steps, unhooking his sidearm from his hip. It was one of the rare days he had worn armor to work, but he was glad he had. The quarian behind the lobby desk started in surprise when he burst through the doors, but recovered quickly and pointed to the elevator.
"Top floor," he said quickly as Garrus all but ran, "We haven't heard anything since the call went out."
"Thanks." Stupid, stupid woman… The lift was thankfully swift and the doors slid open to the penthouse floor only minutes later. Garrus stalked out, gun in hand, and the human woman behind the desk let out a sigh of relief.
"You must be Detective Vakarian," she said, standing and coming around the desk. When she held out her hand, it took him a few seconds to react, but she said nothing of it. "Julia Westwick, I called your office."
"Ms. Westwick," he said with a nod, shaking her hand. "What's the situation?"
She gestured for him to follow and started down the hallway behind her desk. "Ms. Shepard usually doesn't come in unless there are proposals waiting for her. She wasn't scheduled to see possible partners today, but I didn't say anything when she came." She glanced over at him nervously, and he could see that everything about this situation was alien. "I think she isn't feeling well." Jules sighed and cued up her omnitool when they came to a door. "A regular researcher came in with a prospective contract, which wouldn't have been strange, but…" She pursed her lips and frowned. "He threatened her, lunged over the desk when she refused to give him a contract. Ms. Shepard locked herself in with him when she told me to call you. I haven't heard anything since…" The lock turned green and Garrus pushed the human woman back.
"Stay here," he whispered, "I'll take care of it." Cautiously, he pushed the door open and slipped inside, both hands on his gun. "Regina," he called as he moved further inside. The door was set back in an alcove, blocking his view of the room and he immediately hated her choice of architecture.
"Garrus, glad you could join us."
She sounded tired, and… nervous? Afraid? It sounded alien to hear those emotions in her normally-calm, confident voice. Something was wrong. He rounded the corner, expecting the worst, but stared in surprise at the sight that greeted him. Shepard sat, gun in hand, on one side of her desk and the man—Garrus assumed—that had threatened her on the other side, the barrel of the gun pointed at his chest. As he moved closer, he could see her hand shaking, and the sickly pallor to her skin. She didn't look well at all.
"Put the gun down, Regina," he said quietly, "Let me handle it."
Her eyes darted over to him, and he could see how unusually wide they were, and the dark circles under her eyes. Something was definitely wrong. "Yes, of course, Detective," she finally said quietly, laying the pistol down on her desk. The man sitting opposite her visibly relaxed and Garrus moved around the desk to face him. When she made no move to stop him, he took the gun and snapped it to his hip where his own sidearm normally stayed.
"Now what happened?" he asked lowering his pistol only slightly. Shepard still looked like she might pass out, and the man didn't look much better.
"She pulled a gun on me!"
"I don't believe I was talking to you," Garrus snapped, fixing the human with a withering look through his visor. "Ms. Shepard?"
She sighed, running one hand through her hair. "Mr. Zapeta doesn't understand the meaning of the word 'no', apparently," she finally replied, the waver in her voice making her sound years younger. Hell Vakarian, she's probably younger than you are anyway.
As Garrus looked down at her, Shepard knew she had him exactly where she needed him. He thought she was defenseless, weak, even foolhardy. Which was fine. How could a vulnerable business woman run a criminal organization? He saw you with a gun on Zapeta. True… She could work that to her advantage, if she was careful.
Garrus fixed Zapeta with a steely look. "And why is that?"
Zapeta, of course, chose that moment to show his breeding and scowled. "It's a business deal, you wouldn't understand, C-Sec."
Garrus simply raised a browplate, but Shepard frowned at his rudeness. "Shut up, Brian. You came in demanding I give you money for a project I have refused on numerous occasions and when I refused, you threatened to take it from me."
"And then you pulled a gun on me!"
Shepard shot up, slamming a hand on her desk hard enough to knock over her coffee. "You came across my desk!" Yet as soon as the adrenaline was gone, she regretted ever standing up. Her knees went out and she collapsed back into her chair, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. Nausea made her stomach feel like it were a boat in a violent ocean, and she put a hand over her eyes as she waited for the room to stop spinning. "I'm sorry," she croaked, trying to swallow.
"Are you alright?" Garrus asked, looking away from Zapeta for only a second.
"Fine, fine," she said quickly, knotting her hands to hide how badly they shook. Damn it, she felt like death. Which was perfect.
Garrus didn't seem convinced, but turned back to the man on the other side of the desk. "So, is this true?" he finally asked. He would deal with Shepard's liberal interpretation of "fine" later.
Zapeta stared in shock. "I mean, yes, but… It's not what you think, I wouldn't have—"
"Your intent is irrelevant Mr… Zapeta? You made the threats regardless, and apparently Ms. Shepard was concerned enough for her safety to call me, and her employees' safety to lock the both of you in here." Garrus stowed his gun and grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him roughly to his feet. "And, from what I understand, this is not the first time you have come in here to waste Ms. Shepard's time. So, I'm placing you under arrest for harassment, menacing, and attempted assault." The doors opened again, admitting his back-up and Garrus scoffed. "What took you so long?"
"Hey, some of us try to obey most traffic laws, you crazy reptile," Lang replied, leading the small squad of officers. Seeing Shepard, he straightened. "Ms. Shepard, my apologies," he added quickly.
"Please, Officer," she said with a tired smile, "don't stop on my account."
"Here, you can make yourself useful, Eddie," Garrus interrupted, shoving Zapeta to the human officer, "That's the guy. Make sure that restraining order is done before he's sent anywhere."
"Sure thing…" Eddie snapped cuffs on Zapeta's wrists and shook his head. "You really fucked up, didn't you?" Before the man could answer, Lang dragged him out and Garrus sighed, looking back down at Shepard.
"Do I even need to say it?" he asked quietly, crossing his arms over his carapace.
Shepard let out a rough, quiet laugh and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk and setting her forehead in her hands. "Say what, exactly?"
He stared for a moment, mouth opening and closing before he let out an exasperated sound. "You run a company predicted to be worth trillions, your own net worth is topping out around 50 million, and you don't have your own security?!" Even as he looked at her, he knew this wasn't why he as angry. "Answer me honestly, are you alright?"
Shepard looked up, a melancholy smile on her face. "I've been better," she admitted as he crouched beside her chair. "And I appreciate you coming down here for me. I wasn't sure if you'd have the time, with your case."
Garrus shook his head, mandibles twitching to betray his amusement. "I needed the distraction, and you sure have a hell of a way of creating one." After a pause, he continued, "Why did you come in if you're ill?"
That was what he was asking? Oh, she had him wrapped around her finger… "Work usually soothes me. Usually, Zapeta doesn't come in."
Garrus hummed in acknowledgement, watching the read out on his visor. Her heart rate and breathing were irregular, and her body temperature was well below normal. Without thinking, he reached up to hold her chin in his hand; she stiffened, but let him turn her face. "You knew him?"
Why the hell was he looking at her like that? She pushed her hair behind her ear and nodded. "Yeah, he… He's come in a lot. Nothing I'm willing to put my money into, or have my name on. This was… the last straw."
"Doesn't look like he hit you…"
"I didn't let him." She pushed her chair back and reached under the desk to tear off the tape that had held her gun. "I don't keep security here," she said, "because the people I deal with are usually academics, people who have never had a violent thought in their lives." She let out a shaky breath and sat back. "Zapeta has an interest in weapons tech and development, and I refuse to be a part of it. Never thought I'd need to use that gun…"
Garrus frowned. "That's incredibly irresponsible." Whatever she was feeling, he was beginning to think she was going into shock. After what she'd told him at the gala…
"I don't like lots of men with guns in my building," she retorted, a better, stronger smile spreading across her face. "Although I can tell you're more comfortable in armor than that monkey-suit I met you in."
"Monkey-what? What's a monkey?"
"Never mind."
For a second, he just looked at her, watching for any sign that she wasn't alright. "Well… Ok… But I think you should go to a hospital, just to be sure. You might be in shock and—"
"No," she cut in quickly, shaking her head, "No, I'm fine. I promise." She stood and sighed, surveying the spilt coffee covering most of her desk, and pressed the intercom. "Jules, can you please bring me a towel?" Her knees were shaking, but she forced herself to remain standing; any sign of weakness on her part, and Vakarian would drag her to a hospital to be examined and they'd figure out she was withdrawing from every drug on the market… She was just lucky he couldn't pick out the individual symptoms. If it were just red sand, or Hallex, he would have made her. But he wasn't with Narcotics, and that was his loss. He was watching her as she stood there and she sighed. "Garrus, I promise, I'm fine. Just the flu, or something. I'll be back to one hundred percent in a day or so."
The door opened and Shepard's secretary scurried in, handing over the requested towel. "Is everything alright?"
"Absolutely," Shepard replied before Garrus could, mopping up the spill with unparalleled concentration. "Detective Vakarian was just telling me how we need professional security." Anything to get the conversation away from sending her to a hospital. She knew what shock felt like, she'd been beaten, shot… This wasn't shock.
"Maybe… he's right, ma'am," Jules replied cautiously, glancing nervously at Garrus as she wrung her hands. "I mean, maybe it's time to consider that we need it?"
"Not you too, Jules."
"Regina," Garrus tried again, "Just… do me a favor and hire a bodyguard." At her sudden scowl, he raised his hands. "Just for when you're in your office, so this doesn't happen again. Because while I appreciate the distraction, running down here in a panic isn't great for my sanity."
It was almost insulting, to be told that she needed someone to protect her, but Shepard kept her mouth shut, staring hard at the desk. She could take care of herself—she took care of an entire crime syndicate on her own—and having others point it out felt like ice in her gut. But they don't know that. Right. They thought she was just Regina Shepard, investment broker, untrained, and—to Garrus—an escapee of abuse. In his eyes especially, she needed saving. Which was how she wanted it. Didn't mean that it felt natural.
"Fine, I'll hire someone," she grumbled, wiping up the last of the coffee. "I promise."
Jules looked relieved, and Garrus had to agree, but kept it out of his face. "Thank you. I'll forward a list of security companies I trust." There was nothing left for him to do, so he stood and rolled his shoulders back. "In the meantime, someone will bring the restraining order back here for you to sign, and you won't have to worry about Mr… whatever his name was again."
"Great, and… Thank you, Garrus." Shepard put on her best damsel smile and laid a hand on his arm. "I knew I could count on you."
Her secretary had disappeared with the soiled towel, and Garrus floundered for a second. "I… Of course. Take care, Regina." He headed toward the door, trying to wrap his mind around the confusing array of feelings scrambling for his attention.
Shepard let a triumphant smirk spread across her face. "Only because you asked so nicely."