Jack smiled at the sight of Valor resting her hand lightly on the antique, wooden box that held his great-grandfather's much-loved six-shooter and matching bowie knife. The gun still worked, and he'd included the specifications for fabricating ammo for the damned thing, but it was the knife that seemed to really get Valor's attention. If he was honest, that had been his favorite of the set, as well. Giving it to her felt... right. It had been passed down to the firstborn in each generation. Jack's mother had possessed it before him, and as soon as he found out Hannah had given birth to his daughter, he'd been looking forward to passing it on and continuing the family tradition.
Valor carefully removed her hand from the box and turned her attention to him, "Why did you come here, Jack? I'm glad you did, this has been... good. But I can't help but think you're not just here on a whim."
Perceptive as always. Why would he expect that to change? She'd always been half a dozen steps ahead of him. "Yeah, I guess not. For one thing, I've been concerned. You've been getting a lot of... attention."
"The sex vid," Valor stated, unapologetic for her bluntness, just like she had been as an adolescent.
Well, two could play at that. "Was it really you or is it a hoax someone cooked up to smear your reputation?" he asked.
"My reputation?" she scoffed. "Jack, it has had no negative impact on my career or my personal life," she claimed.
"That wasn't an answer," he countered. He was a little startled to realize how invested he was in her reply.
"Okay, I'll tell you, and I'll answer any other questions you feel like you have to ask me face-to-face so you don't have to go through this again," she coldly offered. "But then you answer one for me."
He knew he shouldn't. A bargain like that with her was a trap. "Deal," he agreed anyway.
"Yes, it was me," she said, a cruel twist to her lips as he fixed his gaze on the table. His stomach flipped. Of course it was really her. He'd known it was the first time he'd heard the claim, but no man wanted to hear that about his daughter, no matter how long they'd been estranged.
"The asari coerced me," Valor continued, matter-of-fact and businesslike. He very much doubted that Valor meant the same thing anyone else would when using those words. "I think she was trying to make herself a politically unacceptable lover for Councilor Tevos," she continued, her voice like ice.
"You crossed a Councilor for that?" he asked, alarmed at the implications that might have for her career. It was bad enough that the vid was out there, he hadn't even considered what it might mean if she'd made enemies because of it.
"Not intentionally, and no one has been able to prove it is me," she said in too-precise tones. "She cut out any footage of my face, my tattoo, or my voice before releasing the vid to the press. That could be any blonde human woman."
No point worrying now. And it wasn't as if she needed his protection. She'd done fine without him her whole life. He sighed, searching for something else to say. "Tattoo?" Jack asked, a little wary. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Valor smiled tightly and unzipped her jacket, pulled her arm free and rolled up her sleeve, displaying the Alliance stars and arch in perfect blue on her shoulder. It looked freshly healed. "Tattoo," she introduced. "Careful, Jack, that almost sounded like fatherly overprotectiveness," she said as she readjusted her clothing.
"No, it looks great," he said with a dismissive wave. "How long have you had it?"
"Since the day I enlisted. I wasn't sure if you and Hannah were going to have me pulled out and locked up again, so I had to give myself something permanent. I just had it touched up."
Jack let his regret show. Of all the mistakes he'd made with his personal life, he regretted how he'd handled his relationship with his daughter the most. "We were never against you, Val. We thought... I thought we were helping. Looks like you did just fine for yourself without us, though, so I'm sorry we put you through that."
"Thank you. And thank you for the support from the sidelines. Any other questions for me?"
He tried to smile, and thought he'd done a pretty good job of seeming genuine. What else should he ask? He hoped this was the beginning of them communicating more openly. He still wanted what he'd always wanted– to be part of her life, and at the moment, it almost seemed within reach. Maybe this time... "Yeah, you got a boyfriend or, er... girlfriend I should meet?"
Valor offered him a small smile, "No."
"No, you don't have one, or no, you don't want to introduce me?" he asked, flashing her a smile.
"Are you hoping for an ally in some sordid endeavor?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone. "My tastes have changed since Illium," she warned, though her tone was conversational enough. "I'm not as taken with older military types anymore." He tried not to flinch. This wasn't where he wanted the discussion to go. "Or maybe you're hoping I have a nice girlfriend you can steal out from under me."
"Younger women are too much of a handful," he stated. "I learned that lesson. Look, it's okay, I just wanted to try and fix things for us, maybe actually be part of your life again. We're not there, yet. That's okay."
Valor regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "There isn't anyone for me to introduce you to, Jack. Garrus is as close as it gets."
Her partner? They seemed tense around one another, and when he'd spoken with Vakarian, the turian had asked some strange questions. It didn't seem like they had a friendly relationship at all. "A turian? Really?" he couldn't help himself.
Valor shrugged and held his gaze steadily. "So, do I get to ask my question now?"
"Sure, Val," he conceded, wondering what trap he'd just sprung.
She smiled and leaned close, tucking her long hair behind an ear. He remembered the little mannerism well from the brief time she'd lived with him, and he had the sudden impression that she'd let her hair down when they got to the restaurant just for this moment. "How many times did you watch the vid yourself, Jack? Did you enjoy it as much as the men in your command?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing she was probably basking in his reaction. "You haven't fucking changed at all," he spat, angry with himself for walking right into it, for expecting anything different from her.
"That's not an answer," she said with false cheer. "You promised you'd answer," she reminded, her tones low and sultry.
"I didn't watch it once after I knew who it was supposed to be, and I didn't let anyone under my command waste their time on it either," he growled through clenched teeth.
"Again, not an answer to the question I asked," she mercilessly stated, her smile slipping a little.
"I should have known this was a mistake," he said, combing his fingers through his hair. Why am I letting this get under my skin? That's exactly what she wants, he angrily thought, trying to calm himself down.
"Come on," she coaxed, leaning an elbow on the table and propping her chin on her fist. "Where's your courage, Jack?"
"Why would I count?" he snapped.
Valor feigned surprise and hid a grin. "That many? I'm not sure if I should be flattered or disturbed."
"Someone downloaded it before we were deployed," he explained. "My unit was out of contact for while. The vid circulated for a while before I knew what it was. As soon as someone connected your name to it, I made sure it was purged from every bluewire in my unit."
"Very noble," she said, straightening up and abandoning her little act. He liked her tone cold and emotionless better, and that surprised him. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong, Jack. You should blame me for all of it. You never did anything wrong."
"Like hell I didn't. I should have listened to Hannah. Instead I tried to get the truth out of you myself and played right into your hands. You didn't drug me this time, did you?" he cruelly asked, lifting his nearly-empty glass.
"You gave me an hour to prepare last time. Today, I didn't have anything that would have worked on you." She leaned close and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I save those tricks for the turians at work, now."
"I can't even tell if you're joking or serious," he said, hearing more than a hint of disgust in his tone.
Valor smiled at him. "Good. Thank you for lunch, Jack. I can't imagine what this," she paused as she slid the box he'd given her toward him, "means to you and I can't accept it. The gesture is appreciated," she said before standing and walking away.
"Val, stop," he called, half rising. His shout stopped her in her tracks. "I have something else for you, and it's not something I can offer twice. I fought David over which of us would give it to you. Probably should have let him win."
"Oh?" she said, turning and crossing her arms over her chest.
"This," he said, pulling a heavy envelope with a holo-seal on one side and her name– her full name– in elegant handwriting on the other. "You have thirty Citadel standard days to present yourself."
"What is this?" she asked, coming back to the table to take the envelope. She turned it over in her hands and studied it, a small scowl on her face.
"Time to finish your training, Val," he stated.
She glared at him, "Now? There's so much I have to do. Thirty days is too soon."
He shrugged. "I guess having an N4 sentinel for a daughter is more than most men can hope for. Of course, I always thought you had a bit more than that in you, but indefinite hiatus isn't the worst end the Villa has to offer. Not sure you'd make it all the way, anyway, you can't shoot for shit so where's your combat ability?"
"I didn't take a hiatus, Jack," she argued, ignoring the barb about her marksmanship. "I got orders to report here as a warrant officer right after my last round of testing."
He tried not to smile. Valor was a ruthless, shameless little bitch, but as manipulative and cunning as she was, she still missed some things. He shoved the box he'd given her back toward her. "Take it. I've meant for you to have it since you were born. Hannah never would have given me a chance, so I thought I'd give it to you when you enlisted, but obviously that didn't go as anyone planned, either... please take it," he said, standing to leave. "Anderson has some parting orders for you from Alliance Command before you leave the Citadel, assuming you answer that summons. Get in touch with him if you decide you're going back to Rio." He swiped a credit chit at the table's waiter kiosk and turned to leave.
This meeting hadn't gone how he'd hoped, but it was more or less what he expected. Of course Valor was angry, of course she felt like lashing out at him. The last time he'd seen her in person, he had been delivering her to an inpatient mental re-adjustment program. And he still couldn't decide whether that had been the right move or not. She'd circumvented the program, and clearly she had found a way to control herself and become a civilized, productive member of society, but it was equally obvious that she was not like other people.
If she didn't report for the next set of courses and trials, he wouldn't see her again. Even if she did, he might not. He had finally worked up the guts to tell David close to the whole story. Like a coward, he'd left some details out, but all the information was there, because with her talents and training, someone like Valor had to be loyal– not to be too dramatic– for the sake of humanity. She had to be tested, and he didn't trust anyone but Anderson to do it, and if necessary, end the threat she posed.
Saren impatiently tapped his talons against the console. He wouldn't leave a message– why wouldn't Nihlus answer? Angrily, he ended the call attempt. He knew this would be a waste of time. The urgency he initially felt that drove him to detour, to leave his ship, in order to find the other Spectre no longer seemed justified. He'd been away too long already and he still had to report to the Council on the Citadel– in person– for what they were calling routine loyalty and psychological health evaluations. It was a good time to resupply, but he was apprehensive about the timing.
He called again– one last attempt, and this time, Nihlus answered within seconds. Saren verified that the connection was encrypted and opened the line. Nihlus's familiar face appeared on the holo-screen.
"Saren, I wondered if that was you. You know, if you want people to pick up, you should tell them who's calling. I would have answered the first time if I'd known."
"You answered anyway. The argument is invalid," he contended in clipped tones. He wanted to cut the transmission and hit the relay almost as much as he wanted to stay away from his ship as long as possible. He carefully controlled his expression so Nihlus wouldn't see the conflict.
"I'm surprised to hear from you, Saren," his former student said when it became clear Saren wasn't going to continue.
"You shouldn't be, we're long overdue. I heard that you might be on Omega, so I thought I'd try to contact you on my way through back to the Citadel. It seems they're calling everyone in for psychological evaluation and something they call loyalty testing. Loyalty to what, I wonder."
"It's a formality," Nihlus said, flicking his talons. "They know that any one of us could easily subvert their testing one way or another, but a salarian agent went rogue recently and this is the Council's way of absolving itself of responsibility if that should happen again."
"Typical," Saren snorted. In all the years he had served the Council, the galaxy's leaders had only become more cowardly and conniving. Attempting to dodge responsibility was one of their oldest tricks. "Has your business here concluded?" he asked abruptly, wanting to get on with it.
"Nearly," Nihlus confirmed. "I should see Aria before I leave, but I have something she wants, so I don't think she'll keep me waiting. Don't know how long she'll keep me, though," Nihlus's expression grew smug and Saren couldn't entirely suppress his disgust. He really didn't want his suspicions confirmed. Aria was trash– dregs of the galaxy. He couldn't imagine what Nihlus saw in her. "Want to meet at Afterlife?" Nihlus offered. "I can ping you when I'm done."
"I'm not in the mood for a brawl or for dealing with Aria's imperious attitude. I'll send you docking coordinates."
"So I finally get to see your ship?" Nihlus casually asked.
Saren tensed. How did Nihlus know about that? Then he realized it was probably a ploy– Nihlus didn't know, he was guessing. "You've seen it dozens of times," he dismissed.
"No, your real ship, not the scrap you putter around in when people are watching."
Not a ploy. He'd have to figure out where Nihlus got his information and cut off the source. "Then the answer is no, you don't get to. Finish with Aria and get out here."
"Patient as ever," Nihlus muttered, though his mandibles were high with amusement. The transmission ended and Saren suddenly wondered what had possessed him to seek his fellow Spectre's company.
Why Nihlus? He can't get pulled into this, he urgently thought, unable to pinpoint the cause of his sudden alarm. He thought about it for a moment. Who better? He had trained Nihlus himself and beyond camaraderie forged by facing shared dangers and battlefield-born trust, there was an unmistakable bond of loyalty between them. We'll see, he promised the insistent part of him that wanted to bring Nihlus in completely.
Saren busied himself with replacing a faulty back-up capacitor in the ship's shielding systems. Nihlus was right about the condition of this vessel. Normally, he'd feel contempt for piloting such a hunk of scrap, but as drawn as he was to his ship, there was always a nagging, scrabbling, desperate need for him to return to this one. That part of him dreaded the time when he no longer had to keep his ship hidden.
The time passed quickly, and the proximity alert activated just as he finished fitting the access panel back into its place. He hurried to deactivate security measures and accepted Nihlus's docking corridor. The moment it locked, he slaved his ship's controls to Nihlus's and headed for the airlock. He didn't need Nihlus seeing this place. The other Spectre was too clever and too curious. And he probably had a better supply of alcohol, anyway.
"Saren," Nihlus rigidly greeted him. "It's good to see you," he said, offering a bottle of ale brewed on Taetrus. He didn't recognize the brand, but he recognized the colony's insignia. He accepted the bottle and reached out to clasp Nihlus's forearm. The gesture was returned.
"It's been a long time," Saren said, following Nihlus deeper into the ship. "What brings you to Omega?"
"Questioning a person of interest. Councilor Sparatus seems intent on ignoring the most likely source of his frustrations, but I guess that's what happens when emotions start getting involved."
"He's taken a mistress?" Saren guessed. He knew Nihlus well enough to decode the subtleties of the other turian's carefully controlled subharmonics. He had missed this kind of effortless communication between equals. There was no political maneuvering, no schemes of galactic consequence, and if secrets were to be gleaned or kept, at least the person he had to manage was a friend and not an enemy.
Nihlus grunted and flicked his wrist, "For once, I believe your hasty conclusions are correct. He hasn't admitted as much, but it's fairly obvious."
"A threat to a Councilor is a threat to galactic stability," he said. It was a clear fact. Why hadn't Nihlus acted? "You should have taken care of her if you're so certain she's a problem," he chastised.
Nihlus's mandibles rose and he flicked his talons, "The Councilor ordered me to leave her alone. Besides, the political implications mortify him. It won't last– she's human."
Sparatus shook his head and flicked his mandibles twice. Degenerate humans, insinuating themselves everywhere, especially where they were neither welcome nor needed. His talons grated against the cold steel bottle in his hand. The sooner he could correct the mistake that was humanity, the better for all. "That's difficult to believe," he muttered, realizing he hadn't spoken yet and that Nihlus was watching him very closely. "I always thought Sparatus had more sense. It's not a surprise that involving himself with a human has backfired."
"To be honest, I can't tell if it's her, yet," Nihlus commented. "She was involved in an unusual incident which linked her to the hacker I just questioned. A hacker who was almost certainly partially responsible for digital attacks on the Councilor, and possibly involved in the theft of some of his property. It's entirely possible the Councilor was targeted by this hacker as a way to implicate her and nothing more. The kid had reason to want revenge against her so maybe it was just unfortunate timing."
"That's quite a muddle," Saren said. That was too mild a word, but he was getting far too worked up about this. He carefully adjusted his grip on his untasted beer, not wanting to puncture or warp the bottle. Nihlus's eyes had already flicked to his talons more than once. He needed to calm down. "You weren't able to pull the truth out of the hacker? You must be slipping, Nihlus," he taunted, hoping to deflect the other Spectre's attention.
"I'm not sure he knows the truth," Nihlus defended. "It also seems that the Blue Suns have given him some counter-interrogation training. When I turned up the pressure, he resisted answering questions he had freely responded to earlier."
"Unusual reaction," Saren remarked, wondering whether Nihlus was being deliberately vague, or if he considered the subject unimportant. Since the first day of training with Saren, Nihlus had never held back. Why now? Did he suspect something?
"Very unusual," Nihlus agreed. "And at first he seemed to be cooperating, but now I wonder if I underestimated him. I need to ask more questions before I can put it all together."
"Did you get any evidence, or are you relying solely upon the results of your interview?" Saren asked. Nihlus had always relied too much on information.
"I pulled a copy of his bluewire's use log," Nihlus said. "It seems to point to him as the responsible party. Him and no-one else, which doesn't explain how he physically removed items from the Councilor's home. But enough about that. I've got half a case of this stuff," he said, holding up the bottle in his hand, "and I don't have any export or customs paperwork."
"I think I can help you do something about that," Saren said, taking a long pull from his ale and banishing thoughts of humans and the work Spectres did. It had been a too long since he'd spent his time like this and he couldn't remember when he'd felt this optimistic.
Valor dropped the key to his car on the desk. Garrus didn't look up.
"Thank you, Garrus. That was extremely helpful," Shepard said, setting a wooden box and an unopened paper envelope on her desk.
"Is that your birthday present?" he asked, flicking a mandible toward the box.
"It's not my birthday. Family heirloom," she said, working the catch and opening the lid. "See? It's just a replica, but it was Jack's great-grandfather's, so it's still an antique."
"Nice. Assuming that thing works. The knife's not bad, either. May I?"
Shepard shrugged and took a seat at her desk. "No decision on the bust?"
"I said I'd let you know if word came down," he reminded her, scanning the knife in his hands. He idly evaluated the composition of the blade as the stats scrolled over his visor display. It was a decent weapon, though it looked like the sheath could use some care.
"I'm sorry for ordering you around earlier. Thanks for not making a scene about it," Valor quietly said.
He flicked his talons, "You were just telling me to do what I already had in mind, and you're always snapping orders, Shepard."
"So, why did you let me use your car, Vakarian?" Shepard asked, watching him.
"What are partners for?" he said, wishing she'd let it go. He put the knife back in its place and lifted the gun and the accompanying speed-loader. He knew nothing about antique human firearms, but it only took a few moments– and a detailed scan– to figure it out. "Maybe we should take this over to the firing range and see if it's still in working order. An old piece like this is pretty special. Hope you have specs to fabricate the ammo." He carefully placed each piece back in the box and closed it. Maybe Shepard would let him fire it next time they went to the range, but it wasn't worth pressing her about.
"Of course. Come on, Garrus. Why did you lend me your car?"
"You called Jack 'sir' the first time you saw him." He didn't want to talk about this, but he'd been thinking a lot about how he interacted with her when she had questioned his treatment of her. Seeing her tense up when she recognized her father and hearing how she addressed him broke him out of his routine of seeing her as a suspect. He could sympathize and get angry about what he knew she'd been through, but this was something he could identify with. He recognized it and he wanted to make sure she understood that.
"I was being respectful," she said with a flick of her wrist. She wanted him to let it go, but she was the one who insisted they talk about this, so she could deal with it.
"Hardly, Valor," he argued with confidence. "I know what that was. My father and I aren't on great terms either. I thought you could use a little support."
Shepard scrutinized him for a moment, but her intent expression softened. "Well, you were right. Thank you."
"So, did he forgive you?" Garrus asked. The question made her freeze and he knew he'd hit a nerve.
"What?" she asked, her voice hushed.
"You said you did something a long time ago that he still hasn't forgiven you for," Garrus explained. "I thought since he showed up to see you, it might mean something had changed."
"He and I will never get past that," she firmly stated. "What did you say to him before I got here?" she asked, a hard edge in her voice.
"Oh, you know, I broke the ice with a little Relay 314 Incident joke. I always use it on humans– the older military types especially– since it's the one thing we turians have in common with your species, even though you insist on dramatizing it by calling it 'the First Contact War.' Then I told him how much I appreciate your oral dexterity and overall flexibility."
Valor raised an eyebrow and he could tell she was trying hard not to smile– maybe even laugh. "You didn't. He'd have thrown a punch if you had said any of that to him, especially joking about the war."
"You're right," Garrus admitted, rolling his head. Seeing Valor laugh always felt good. Her rare genuine smiles were almost as good. "I'm always tempted to, though. If our people can't get over that, how can we expect to avoid hostility in the future?"
"That war was just an indicator of very different and incompatible cultures," Valor countered, her humor vanishing.
"Maybe on a large scale," Garrus conceded, "but look at you and I– we have our differences, but we're a good team, and even though you're an arrogant, upstart human, I think I like you better than most of the turians I know."
"Oh, stop, I'll blush," Valor said. He was pretty sure she was being sarcastic. His visor said she was cool and calm, not flustered in the least. Well, he knew how to change that.
He reached out to grasp her hand and gently pulled her closer to him. "What's it going to take for me to get back on your good side, Valor?" he asked, his voice low. If she could hear and understand it, his subharmonics communicated his sincerity. He didn't like fighting with her, even when he was probably completely justified.
"Keep treating me like a person instead of a suspect," she said, leaning toward him a little.
"Okay. I promise," he said, resting his forehead against hers. A concerned friend or lover would still be curious about her background, though, right? He could keep that promise.
A/N: Feel like reviewing? I know I'm doing some pretty unorthodox things with this story and I'd really enjoy hearing what others think of it. Good or bad, a review is better than silence.