AN: I own nothing. Rated m, and thanks to my reviewers.

OoOoOo

Three years. Three long and hard years he's been drifting around and turning his back on his people. Shortly after the fiasco with Shepherd, she dropped off the radar. She'd disappeared for good. His frustrations over the bureaucratic bullshit had mounted until he'd resigned in disgust. Something in him had screamed at him to make a difference out there for people like Shepherd and her kids.

And, on his way to do that, he'd ended up in pisshole Omega.

Yet, he'd seen instantly how many people were in need of some kind of law. Some kind of justice. Garrus had wanted to provide that. And, as the Spirits would have it, others joined his cause. He was lauded as a vigilante, as Archangel. Some Earth term that reminded him of Shepherd. Most days he succeeded in not thinking about her. And other times, even in the arms of some feminine company, he'd still see her face. That strange human smile with ineffective blunt teeth, facing him down like she was his equal. Though he'd gotten to know humans much better since he'd come to Omega, he'd also come to know that there was no one quite like her.

He'd lost himself in the work of protecting others that gave him the chance not to think about her or how she was doing. Sometimes, in his dreams he wondered if she'd ever thought about him again. It was likely she had, but not favorably. He and his group had been able to make major headway on the merc groups running the local area, when Aria's rule of Omega had been challenged by some unknown usurper. However, as he'd heard it, that female had put down any resistance in the past with a ruthless iron fist. Garrus used the short distraction to his advantage.

Things had gone well for a while. Gunning down mercs, helping people hope again, and his calibrations had never gone better. It had really been something.

It all ended in a blaze of gunfire and glory. He and his men fighting the good fight against waves of mercs until, one by one, they were picked off. When the last group gets passed his rifle, Garrus resorted to a little melee combat. However, he was one lone turian and was quickly overwhelmed.

He'd stared down the business end of a rifle before, but never this close that he remembered. It's nearly beautiful the way the artificial light bounces off the black paint. 'This,' he thinks, 'is not the worst way to go.' His team is dead and to him, it is only fitting that he joined them.

"You're lucky," A fellow turian hissed at him bluntly. "The Commander said to take you alive."

Of course, fate usually had other plans.

"And here I am without my best attire on," Garrus rumbled sarcastically.

"Quiet!" A green marked turian bellowed as he kicked Garrus' legs out from under him.

"What? Not going to buy my a drink first?" He quipped from his prone position.

They dragged him to his feet, just so they can knock him to his knees when the "Commander" came. His sharp hearing could detect a sole pair of footsteps drawing closer. Whoever the scum was, Garrus was going to kill him for what he'd done.

"Commander," a turian called out with respect thrumming through his harmonics.

Garrus snorted in distaste.

His avian eyes saw a pair of boots, by the shape they belong either to an Asari or a human. He's heard of Aria, and if that blue wench has made a trip down here just for him… well didn't that just make him feel special. He warbled in defiance and raised his ice blue eyes ready to denounce the wretch; only to stare in shock at the image that greeted him.

Shepherd. His Shepherd, the sweet human juvenile that always thought about others is staring down at him with apathy apparent in her gaze. Her feature had changed ver little, but she wore a coat of green that matched those holding him. Betrayal burned its way across his chest.

What was she doing on Omega? She should have been in the Citadel.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," she said in a bored tone. Her limp fringe cascading behind her back.

Garrus wasn't 100% sure what a cat was, but it did not sound good. His mandibles clicked in confusion.

"You look surprised," she stated as she turned away from him, "you shouldn't be. Birds have to eat, fish have to swim, rats have to scurry."

He winced at her tone and he understood instantly her implication. It seemed like only days ago, but so much time had passed since he'd last saw her. She had filled out for her species. She was still thin, but her cheeks weren't as gaunt and her limp fringe had grown. Her eyes, however, were distinctly, Shepherd.

"I could ask you what you thought this was going to accomplish," she gestured toward the fallen bodies of copious mercenaries, "but I doubt you would tell me."

They stared at each other for the space of a heartbeat as he tried to voice the thousand questions running through his mind. He must already be dead, or he was in shock. This could not be real.

"So," she continued with a saccharine smile, "what brings you to Omega? I can understand the appeal. The vacation spots here are simply to die for."

"Shepherd," he croaked out through bruised face plates. "This isn't true. You're not really here. You can't be serious. You're not working for Aria. Are you?"

She laughed a bitter and hollow sound. "No," she told him nearly playfully. "I'm not 'working' for Aria. Sadly for you, this is real though."

His shoulders sagged in relief; until another traitorous thought crossed his mind. "You're a merc?" He hissed the word out with distaste.

She hummed low in her throat; those strange human eyes seemed harder somehow she shook her head to the negative. "Guess again," she throatily purred and he was forced to suppress the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I don't want to involve you in this Shepherd," he growled out threateningly. "This is between me and the mercs."

"Oh honey," she oozed with false sympathy, "it's far too late for that."

"Don't make me have to hurt you." He hissed out his agitation and the vauge sound of reluctance reached his own ears.

"Watch your mouth," a batarian said lashing a fist across Garrus' face.

She paused and gave the batarian a hard look.

"You were saying?"

"I don't want to hurt you," he repeated spitting blood onto the floor. "But I will go through you if I have to."

"Ooh… scary," Shepherd barked out a laugh and for a moment that sarcastic look on her face melted into true amusement. "Hurt me? Archangel, you wouldn't even be able to touch me. Even if all these fine gentlemen and ladies weren't here, you wouldn't get within ten feet of me."

If she was lying, he could not tell.

Confusion darkened his gaze, but he charged onward like a good head strong Turian. "I just want the mercs… and Aria. Not you. I'll get you out of here Shepherd. I swear."

"Get me out of here?" She repeated softly. "You think you can get yourself out of here, let alone me?"

Shepherd walked toward him and squatted until she is eye level with him; her head was tilted in an appraising manner. "That's cute," she half-snarled with narrowed eyes, "I… I um, am not too sure what you want with a corpse, but Aria should be orbiting the nearest planet by now."

The shock that filled him quickly gave way to dread. "But if she's dead, and you're the 'Commander' then you're-"

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

Shepherd leaned closer to him, so close he could feel the warmth of her through his plates. Her odd human lips were just mere millimeters away from his mandibles and he repressed a shiver of desire.

"I don't just run it. I am Omega," she whispered with her lush lips forming the words that drove straight through his heart. No. It couldn't be. She would never.

Never.

Garrus found himself trembling.

"Take him to a shuttle and get him the hell off my station," She commanded as she rose gracefully to her feet. Her men acknowledge her and started to drag him off.

"For old times' sake," she told him not even bothering to look at him as she walked away. "You get one chance. If you're smart, you won't come back. Because if I see you… well… Aria is getting lonely these days; I'm sure."

"Goodbye, Archangel," a turian warbled in amusement.

The pistol to the back of his head, under his fringe knocked him out cold, but his last thought of consciousness begged him to answer the searing questions. What in the name of the Spirits had happened to Shepherd? What was she even doing in a hell hole like Omega?

OoOoOo

She's made this walk a thousand times now, and every time feels like the first. She hates it. She loathes this walk with her entire being. She struts into 'Afterlife' like she owns the place. Her green jacket and black boots tell everyone who she is. It is easy to spot her, easy to remember. She's been here far too long. She can count how many steps her guards are behind her. They are always there. Always.

Quietly, trying not to feel the building headache from the pulsating music and ignoring the half-naked blue bodies gyrating all around her, she slipped into a heavily guarded room. She was on time, as usual.

"Is it finished?" A booming voice demands. A far cry from when she had first heard it. When it had been old, defeated, and broken, her human eyes had not minded looking at him. Now she cannot stand it. He'd turned into something vile, where the shadow had grown back into its former glory.

"Yes," she says tonelessly, "Patriarch."

"Good," his reptilian eyes pierced her, but she hardly took notice. "Well, I've upheld my end of the bargain, now it's time for yours Shepard."

She hardly moved and no longer twitched when he barked out her name. "I remember."

"See that you do," he replied ominously.

For the millionth time she called herself a fool. An idiot for getting in over her head and caught up with the wrong sort of people. However, it was not as if she'd precisely had a choice. No, life was never kind to a duct rat. But she'd survived and that she'd always been good at.

"So," The Patriarch asked looming over her, "what was so special about that guy that you didn't want me to have him killed? It cost me some reputation and more than a few creds. Who is he?"

She knew his calculating and crafty side. She had played part in his hostile re-taking of Omega. She had been turned into the dirty little secret weapon he'd bought from some two-bit slavers because she'd been too deep in her personal misery to be smart enough to avoid them. And, she hadn't been strong enough to fight them off.

Anything was legal on Omega. Anything at all, and slavery was such a gray area as far as Aria had been concerned. She'd been purchased, lock, stock, and barrel. And the Patriarch had seen her put to use immediately, she had not been what he was originally promised. He'd nearly had her killed when it was disclosed that he wouldn't be able to bed her. So, she'd offered to help keep him informed of the goings-on within Omega, and it had been a slippery road since then. She'd been able to spare a few people from his some-what justified wrath. He'd taken her name and bastardized it only for the purpose of mocking her further. Much like Aria had done to him. Shepard was a shield, information, and puppet all at his beck and call. There was no one left to fight for now.

Was it his fault, her fault, or life's fault? Shepard was never able to answer such a seemingly simple question.

"He's no one," she replied hollowly, "not anymore."

He growled lowly at her, likely to frighten her into talking more, but Shepard said nothing.

"If you ever interrupt a strategy meeting like that again, I'll use your skin as a rug to wipe my feet on. Hm. Just keep yourself useful human."

She always did.

She watched dispassionately as the Patriarch fished out a credit chip from his pocket and threw it at her chest. It bounced off with only a slight sound. Dirty money, dirty life, for a filthy little duct rat.

"I want the names of the mercs who plotted against me and everyone that works for them by noon."

"Yes, Patriarch," she said as she scooped up the credits and left.