Redshift

"You hit me," The boy whimpered. He was her size, so it was fair. Not like when the bigger kids hit the smaller ones.

"This is my spot," She clenched her fists, ready for a fight. She was always ready for a fight. "I'm the lookout here. The Reds said so."

"I didn't know." The other child sniffled. She'd heard him crawling up the vents. They stopped here, on the roof that overlooked the street. The Reds told her to watch for pigs and sirens. If she did her job right, she could be one someday.

"Well…now you do." Her hands started to unclench. He looked like he was going to cry. She didn't know what to do, so she said the first thing that came to mind, "Reds don't cry."

"Are you one?" His eyes went wide in awe. They shimmered, like oil that pooled in the streets after rain. They were pretty. She didn't want him to cry.

"No." She sat down to show she wouldn't hit him again. He rubbed the side of his face, smearing dirt over the bruise. She wondered if his hair was really black, or just like that because he'd never had a bath.

He had dirt-brown shorts that used to be pants, and that was it. She had a jacket she could use as a blanket. He eyed it and she glared at him. It was hers. He rubbed his neck and sheepishly looked away.

"I like your hair." He offered.

"Why?" She frowned. She didn't like her hair. "Cause it makes me look like a Red?"

"No… cause it's pretty."

"Oh…" She stared out over the street so he couldn't see her face. He could stay, but she still had to watch for pigs and sirens.

"I'm Curt." He shuffled over to sit near the edge with her. She wanted to tell him not to. She'd seen the Reds push people over the edge. "What's your name?"

"I don't know." She pulled her legs up and hugged them. Names were dumb. It didn't make her anything more than a street rat.

"Maybe it's Rose." He smiled, he was missing teeth. "You know. Cause your hair."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's sounds girly."

"So?" He blinked. "You're a girl."

"So girls aren't tough. I'm tough." She shook a fist at him and he balked. "I'm gonna be a Red."

He sat up straighter, though eyed her waving fist, and rubbed where she'd hit him again. "I know. I'm gonna be a Red too. We could be Reds together."

"… okay."

"Can I call you Rose?"

"… okay."

Club Redshift. Well, Curt had never been very creative. Shepard stared at the list of names, and recognized far too many. Curt, who'd given her her first nickname. Jason, who'd introduced her to dusting. Jimmy, who'd been with her on her first raid…

"We should go now, when there are fewer civilians." Supernova interrupted her, closing his omnitool. Ginger's name vanished from the air, who'd held her hair back when she'd thrown up after her first kill, whispering 'It's okay, I won't tell anyone.'

"What do you mean go now?" She snapped, spinning in his lap to glare at him.

"You were right; your old gang was involved in the attack," He explained, in a bored, detached tone, as if talking to a child. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. "Which means they might know something. We delay this and the trail might go cold."

"This?" Shepard shoved herself off him and backed up a few steps. "What is this?"

"You know what 'this' is." He pushed himself up and went to her closet to get his armor.

Shepard scrambled for an argument, something logical, not based in the roaring turmoil of emotion that screamed from her memories. They weren't necessarily good memories, but they were the only ones she had. "We can't just assault a bar in the middle of the day on a hunch."

He glanced over his shoulder with a look she took for disbelief. "They tried to kill you."

"Because I was with you!" Shepard snapped, then bit her lip. Supernova turned back around and went back to putting on his armor as if he hadn't heard her. Shepard took a deep breath and pressed the heels of her palms into her forehead. "Look," She tried again, walking over to put a hand on his shoulder. "Just let me talk to them."

"You should stay here," He shrugged her hand off, "You're not thinking rationally."

"Of course I'm not!" The best proof to that statement was that she was debating hitting him over the head with his own terminal to knock him unconscious. "The Reds may not have been family, but I had a place there, can't you relate to that?"

"No." She stared at his back and blinked hard twice. He elaborated as he dressed, each sentence punctuated with the click of his gear snapping into place. "I'm an only child, my father died when I was sixteen, and my mother abandoned me to the military the next day. I was from a mercenary outpost, outside the Hierarchy, so I never had a place there, either." He stood up, fully armored, and snapped his guns onto his back. "So no, I can't relate."

Shepard's reacted instantly. She dove for his sidearm on her table, smacked the emergency override lock on her door, and pointed the gun at his face. "Then relate to this."

"They're murderers and terrorists, and you're defending them?" The gun was for show; she had no kinetic barriers and he was fully armored. He could have killed her if he wanted to, but she had to make a point.

"We're both murderers," as far as she was concerned. He didn't argue.

"And terrorists?" He folded his arms over his chest.

"Everybody needs a hobby." She smiled and was sure it didn't reach her eyes.

They stood at a standstill, and he took several steps forward until he was at point blank range, making his kinetic barriers useless. He raised an arm and she wondered if he was going to knock her out and throw her in the bathroom again, but all he did was gently lower the gun. "So what's your suggestion?"

"You let me talk to them." She flicked the safety and stuffed the gun in the back of her pants, pulling her shirt down over it.

"And when that doesn't work?" She tried to glare at him and failed. She could barely meet his eyes. Shepard didn't know whether to be amused or ashamed by the irony. She'd started her shore leave trying to prove she wasn't a Red, and ended up defending them instead. You were born one of us.

"If that doesn't work…" she thumped a fist on his armor, not that he could feel it, and rested her forehead on his chest. "Then we'll see what happens. But we don't run in balls first, guns blazing…" Coming from her the irony physically stung. Or perhaps the sting came from the knowledge that that was probably what they'd have to do. "I know them; I know all of them…"

"Alright." Talons wrapped around her shoulders and stayed there. Shepard sighed. He couldn't even relate and was still willing to put up with her bullshit. Maybe it was bullshit, but just because she'd left didn't mean she wanted them all dead… did it? "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

"Me neither," She forced a laugh, "You must be pretty desperate."

"So it seems."

Shepard lightly smacked his face. "You don't have to agree so fast." Shepard pushed away from him and unlocked the door, then rubbed the back of her neck. "Okay, you'll need to walk drag. If they see us together-"

"I can guess." He interrupted humorlessly.

"Give me some time to talk to them. Find out what they know."

"How much time?"

"Half an hour."

"Twenty minutes."

"Fine." Shepard huffed, and then rummaged through her closet for a few flash grenades. She stuffed them into the pockets of her cargo pants to her turian's bemused snort.

"I'm surprised they're not under your pillow." He commented when she ignored him.

"Haha." Shepard muttered. Satisfied her gun and grenades were well-hidden, she put on her omnitool and unlocked her apartment. The two of them left and made their way from the hotel. A new receptionist sat behind the counter with the morning and gave them no trouble.

"Twenty minutes." Shepard repeated while they stood waiting for the elevator to take them to sector 47a. "Don't just use me as a distraction to slip in the back."

"I don't give my word lightly." He glanced down at her, mandibles twitching in what she took to be mildly insulted.

"S'what I'd do." She mumbled in explanation. An awkward silence filled the rest of the ride, and Shepard decided if she was stupid enough to start a conversation in an elevator she deserved it.

One of the clearest signs that they'd reached Red territory was that there wasn't an alien in sight. Shepard glanced at the giant wall of turian that stepped out of the elevator with her and cringed.

"I'll be at the back entrance. Twenty minutes." He went in the opposite direction of the club and vanished. Shepard rolled her bad shoulder back and forth, and took a deep breath. It felt easier to breathe without him around, at least in Red territory. An hour ago and it wouldn't have been harder without him. Shepard shook herself. She needed to be focused. She only had twenty minutes.

The bouncer at the door took one look at her red hair and waved her through. He looked like Jimmy, but she didn't stay long enough to make sure. It would be easier if she wasn't sure who was here and who wasn't.

The bar was dingy, but not too dingy. It had a simple layout of a circular bar, over which a platform for pole dancers stood. Booths lined the walls, and stairs led up to a second story opposite the main entrance. The back entrance was beneath the stairs, though for all she knew there was a warehouse through that door. The lights were dim, and the music was light.

Ginger she spotted immediately, pole-dancing on a platform above the bar. She hadn't changed at all, then. Jason was at the bar, likely serving drinks and dust. Shepard felt like she was going to be ill. It was like she'd stepped back a decade in time just walking through the door. She kept her head down, hoping no one would notice her, but it was early and the real crowds wouldn't start until later.

Jason had been cleaning glasses when she'd walked in, but when he saw her he stopped and stared, and looked like he was trying to place who she was. She had almost reached the back of the club to head to the VIP quarters, where Curt might be, when he placed her.

"Holy shit, Shepard?" Ass.

Shepard stopped and turned, giving him a guilty smile and a shrug, intent to continue on, but he abandoned his post at the bar and barreled straight to her. "Son of a bitch, it is you," He grinned toothily; several of his teeth were capped in gold. "There've been so many stories…."

"There'll be so many more," She started to say when he grabbed her and pulled her into a rough hug.

"You gotta tell me which are true," He insisted as he released her, "You gotta tell everyone. Shit, I can't believe you're back, but hell, once a Red, always a Red, right?"

Shepard swallowed the lump in her throat, "Right. Look, Jason, I need to see Curt."

"Curt?" Jason looked affronted, like he'd assumed she was there to see him and him alone, but that was Jason. People never changed. You'll never change. "You just missed him. He jumped station in a hurry, won't be back for a while. I've got so much to tell you." He dragged her, unwillingly, towards the bar, where a loud squeal from above informed her Ginger had finally recognized her.

"Rosy!" Ginger squeaked, scrambling off her platform without bothering to take the stairs. Double ass.

"Hey we got customers!" Jason protested.

Ginger raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah, where?" Jason's mouth opened and closed, when Ginger threw herself on Shepard in a hug. "I knew the rumors weren't true, I sa-"

"Guys," Shepard pried Ginger and all her limbs off her, "It's good to see you, but is there a second-in-charge I can talk to?"

"Yeah, sure," Jason steered her towards the back of the club she'd been heading to in the first place, shooting Ginger a 'get back to work' look. "Curt's second's this new guy Everest. We've been bringing in all kinds of new people, doing all kinds of new stuff. Things have changed so much since you left, I don't even know where to start." He rubbed the back of his neck – had she gotten that from him? – as they walked up the stairs together. "Oh yeah, you wanted to see Curt. So you know those turian-raptor-freaks right? Well he's got this huge-"

"Jason!" A man with slicked back hair in a pressed suit snarled as he emerged from the room they'd been heading towards on the second story. Shepard didn't recognize him, so she assumed he was Everest. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

"Relax, Ev, it's cool. Shep's a born Red." Shepard found herself wondering how Jason had survived so long. He was naïve and had a mouth that should have gotten him killed by now. She guessed his position as a bartender made him the Red's go-to-guy for gossip, and it was just his place to fill everyone in.

"Shep? As in Shepard? As in Commander Shepard?" Everest eyebrows drew closer together every time he rephrased her name.

"As in our Shepard." Jason threw his arm around her for emphasis. She wormed out from under it, trying to ignore the voice in her head. As in the Shepard who might have to kill you.

"As in the Shepard Curt wanted dead, you moron." Everest snapped his fingers and two bodyguards emerged from the room he'd been in. They had enough muscle she doubted they'd seen their own necks recently, and Shepard mentally dubbed them mini-hulks.

"Curt had bad intel," Shepard cut in, "He saw me with a turian and should have assumed I was going to kill him."

"Why should I believe you?" Everest pretended to pick lint off his suit. Shepard was relieved she'd guessed right. The Reds only wanted her dead because they thought she wasn't one of them anymore.

"Because I've been a Red longer than you and your nonecks, and I know how this works." The men in question bristled at the insult, "You need people in places and places for people, and being an Alliance Commander means I can get you both."

"We don't need the Alliance getting in our way."

"And I don't need the Reds getting in mine," Quick lie, quick lie… "That turian was going to give me secure frequencies for the Hierarchy, actually give us a chance at getting the bastards back for the First Contact War. Instead, he gave Terra Libera a push out this station's airlock."

"I knew it!" Jason punched the air, "I knew you were with those Alliance types to get back at those alien ass-"

"Jason, don't you have a bar to tend?" Everest glared. Jason shrunk in on himself, cast her an apologetic look, and slinked back downstairs.

Everest eyed her up and down, and finally tilted his head towards his office. Shepard held in a breath of relief. A lot of things might be beyond her, but bullshit? She was good at bullshit. The minihulks hulked away, and she took a seat across the desk in his office.

"So what do you want?" He steepled his fingers together and eyed her suspiciously.

Shepard put her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. "I want to know why the Reds and the Alliance are after the same turian."

"We weren't after him," Everest explained. "Terra Libera was. And they wanted him bad, because they gave us a nice gift for the tip. You wanted to see Curt? He'll be busy for a while… unwrapping it."

"Why were they after him?" She pressed. She might have seemed too eager. She might have seemed too concerned, because Everest didn't answer right away. And she might never know, because the roar of someone's gunfire sounded below them.

That son of a bitch.