Miranda hated Omega. She hated the smell. She hated the neon lights. She hated the catcalls from the alleyways. She hated the people that called Omega home. On the ever growing list of reasons to hate the blasted former mining station, it was the sense of hopelessness that Miranda hated the most. It was the lack of hope seemed to ooze from every pore of the residents of the God forsaken rock. The steam permeating from the gutters and vents constantly reminded her of the despair and longing that weighed heavily on the minds and souls of all Omega's inhabitants. She'd been forced to do business on the station a number of times, each ending with her vow to never return. A vow she would abide by until the Illusive Man would ask her to meet someone, pick something up, or on the rare occasion, kill someone. Inevitably she would return, carry out her employer's task, and then leave again, smelling of sulfur and urine and renewing her vow. Of Omega's many transgressions against Ms. Lawson, the one that was quickly rising up the ranks was that of Aria T'Loak. The Asari had always proven herself to be a right pain-in-the-arse. This time was proving to be no different.

The Normandy's arrival on Omega hadn't gone unnoticed. Miranda and Shepard had barely departed the ship when they had been approached by one of T'Loak's goons. The man had demanded that Shepard report to the Asari. Originally the Commander had protested, but agreed to the meeting after reasoning that there was no other way to locate the men they were seeking. Their search for the Salarian doctor Mordin Solus and the evasive vigilante Archangel. Solus was said to have been capable of developing a way of combating the Collectors and their drone swarms. Miranda had been surprised when the Illusive Man had given her the dossier. The Illusive Man hardly ventured past the human race, but the current situation warranted that all avenues needed to be taken. From her own research, Miranda found that Solus was said to have an uncanny intellect. Many reports however stated that his brilliance was counterbalanced by his erratic behavior. When she had mentioned this to Shepard, he'd simply laughed and stated that for this mission, one needed to be a little off kilter. There was very little relevant information on the Archangel of Omega. In truth, the man seemed to be little else than a hired gun. Miranda figured there was probably plenty of room for those as well on the Normandy. But finding the two men was going to be impossible without the cooperation of 'The Pirate Queen' of Omega.

~o~0~o~

Dr. Solus paused ever so slightly when the vents came roaring back to life. Anyone that had been paying attention would have missed the momentary hesitation. His attention, the majority of his attention, returned to the screen displaying his latest findings. The disease that he'd been able to cure, was attacking nonhuman life. Mordin wasn't troubled by the complexity of the virus, it hadn't proved to be very difficult to cure. He was intrigued by the unique signature of the creator. The virus had after all, been created artificially. It had been altered and shaped to only attack those who carried different physiologies than that of the human race. It hadn't proved to be overly harmful to Asari physiologies as well, but due to the lack of a large Asari population on the lower reaches of Omega station, Mordin hypothesized that the virus was meant to isolate and alienate the human populace. David, his young assistant that he had originally assigned to dispense the cure, returned to the lab.

"Professor! The air scrubbers! They're back online."

Mordin nodded and quickly waved off the young man's exuberance. "Yes, Yes. It seems Shepard's reputation is well deserved. David, it appears that my presence will no longer be required on Omega." He saw the look of confusion on the man's face. "Cure is dispensed. People will get well soon. You should be more than capable of caring for the rest."

David began to argue but stopped when the men and woman who had talked a group of Batarians out of killing him earlier, suddenly walked into the room. He had to purposely keep himself from staring at the woman. She was a beautiful and striking figure. He instead stared at the floor. Mordin instead over to greet the one he'd heard the Professor refer to as 'Shepard'.

Shepard met Professor's gaze. "We've done our part of the deal Professor. Can I trust you to do the same?"

The Salarian gave a slight bow. "I will honor our arrangement. Would be nice to be part of a worthy assignment again."

The muscular man spoke up. "Thank you Professor. Just head to our ship. We'll let them know you are on the way."

Mordin looked at Shepard with an inquisitive look. "I take it you have another wretched soul that you seek."

The Commander gave a small laugh. "Yes we are looking for a man called Archangel."

Now it was the Salarian doctor who laughed. "Ah yes, Archangel. Omega's white knight, our ever vigilant vigilante."

"You know of him?"

Mordin had started to pack the things he felt important; David was the one to answer. "Some mercs came to the clinic a few days ago. They were looking for people healthy enough to help go after Archangel. They had some kind of plan to attack his home base."

The muscular black man asked, "Why are they going after him?"

Mordin looked up from his packing. "Because he has killed enough of them. Believe man has a complex. Feels responsible for the weak. Exerts violence to end violence. Brutal, yet effective."

Shepard nodded before turning to David. "Just where is Archangel's 'home base'?"

~o~0~o~

He'd gone by a different name once. In another life, he'd been a different person altogether. He had been a lieutenant in the military. Once he had been an investigator for the Citadel's security force. He'd grown up believing in good versus evil, that good would always prevail. He believed the evil would be punished in accordance to laws, laws meant to protect the weak and helpless. All of that however, had been a long time ago. Over time he came to learn that the laws didn't protect the weak. More often than not, the laws kept those who had sworn by them from doing the necessary things to ensure that the small were protected. The human had shown him that it was possible to work outside of the law and still walk the high road. Shepard had changed him. Shepard had saved him. But then, without warning, Shepard was dead. The human that had taught him so much, taught him how to be more than one man, was gone. He tried to go back to his old life. He tried to sit at his desk. He tried to investigate crimes against the defenseless. He tried to be the hero that the galaxy expected him to be. But he wasn't strong enough. He wasn't strong enough to watch as the victims began to pile up and the perpetrators walked away unpunished. Finally he'd snapped. It had taken a missing child to show him just how broken the system was.

After the destruction of Sovereign, there were countless broken families and orphans of all races. In all of the confusion a sick and perverse element had grown rampant in the ruins of the wards. Slave trafficking had boomed in the lower wards, areas that were difficult to police by the now undermanned officers of C-Sec. While the practice was publicly admonished, there were many in the Citadel's hierarchy that accepted it as an evil that they couldn't do anything about. He refused to accept that stance. Despite the objections from his superiors, he worked every missing person case that came across his desk. More often than not, it would lead to an unclaimed body in the ever expanding list of those felled in the Battle of the Citadel. It was a case of a missing Drell child that had awakened the beast inside of Garrus Vakarian. Garrus stalked those he knew to be responsible for the abduction of the child. In his investigation, he went through extreme lengths to find the child, lengths that drew open criticism from his superiors. They called him out for his unwillingness to follow the letter of the law. The called him out for the brutality of his methods of gaining information. Most of all, Garrus believed they called him out for his ability to get results. Garrus had rescued the child but in doing so had ruined any chance of bringing the responsible parties to prosecution. The recovery of the child had been the last act of Garrus Vakarian. The subsequent assassination of those responsible had been the first in the persona he'd resigned himself to now. In doling out the justice he saw appropriate, he ceased to be the man who believed in law and order. He now realized that the best way to destroy evil was to unleash a different kind of evil. He would do whatever necessary to ensure that those who needed his help would get it. He had become the Archangel.

It had been an accident that Garrus had arrived on Omega. A rupture in one of the exhaust coils, had caused the ship that he had taken passage on, to take port on Omega until it could be repaired. Garrus had been on his way to Palaven, the Turian home world. He sought time away from the Citadel and its broken system of order. He'd been on the station a mere hour before he took notice of the oppression of its weaker citizens. Omega was lawless. Omega had no sense of wrong and right. Omega needed someone to punish the wicked. Omega was Garrus Vakarian's new home. It didn't take long for Garrus to find people who aided him in his cause. Ex-soldiers, former cops, even a Batarian demolitions expert quickly joined him. He had found himself in a position that was foreign to him. The men looked to him to lead. They wanted him to lead. He wanted to lead. He wanted to show the people of Omega, that they needn't fear the gangs and thugs that 'ran' Omega. He formed an uneasy alliance with Aria, an Asari that many decreed to be 'Queen of Omega'. Garrus had accepted that there were some vices that couldn't be avoided. As long as Aria steered out of his work, Garrus would stay out of hers. The other dominant mercenary gangs on Omega however, were open to whatever wrath Garrus and his men were willing to unleash. The Blue Suns ran extortion rackets on people that couldn't afford the 'protection'. The Eclipse were dealing illegal drugs, pushing red sand on young helpless and often destitute victims. The Blood Pack was the most despicable of the prevalent mercenary gangs. The Blood Pack dealt in sex slavery, drugs, and murder for hire. It was this triumvirate that Garrus waged his war on.

Garrus and his team were brutally effective. They sabotaged drug shipments, liberated people taken against their will, and killed the violators without hesitation. Garrus' nights often were spent away from his team, often going solo eliminating some of the more high profile members of the merc groups. It was one night that Sidonis, a former Turian sergeant, asked Garrus for help with a job. Garrus arrived at the location Sidonis had asked to meet up. We waited for the man for close to an hour before the dread sunk in. Scrambling back to the apartment that his team had set up as a command center, he was met with his biggest fear. His team lay slaughtered, killed by those that they had spent so much time hunting. Noticeably missing from the carnage, was the body of Sidonis. The Turian had sold the team out, and Garrus had just walked right in on the trap. Shots were fired from the bridge outside. Garrus was forced to take cover behind the wall. The mercs that lay waiting had made one terrible flaw. They'd underestimated Garrus' skill and resolve. In just minutes, the veteran marksman was able to eliminate the two dozen or so hostiles. With the scope of his rifle, he scanned the fallen bodies of the dead. Blood Pack, Eclipse, Blue Suns, and even common thugs lay dead. Somehow the gangs had united and were hell bent on taking the Archangel down. He knew the rest would be coming soon. He knew that his own death was coming with them. Garrus made his preparations. If he were destined to die in this place, he was going to take as many with him as he could.

~o~0~o~

The assault on Archangel's lair had begun by the time Shepard and his team arrived. The Commander took quick stock of the situation. He was able to identify three different bands of mercenaries. There was another group that took cover behind the large barrier wall. By the looks of terror and doubt on the faces, Shepard assumed that these were some of the 'volunteers' that David had spoken of. He turned back to Miranda and Jacob.

"Ok we need to get over to Archangel. Somehow convince him that we're on his side and somehow not get ourselves ki…"

Miranda felt her heart leap from her chest. Shepard had taken a round to his chest and now lay in a heap on the ground. She tried to run to him but felt Jacob grab her by the waist. He threw her behind a downed cab. "Miranda, don't. He's gone." She tried to argue with him. He was down out in the open. Despite all of her reasoning she wanted to get to Shepard's body, she'd managed to bring him back once she could do it again. She felt the anger and pain welling up inside of her. She pushed off of Jacob and ran to Shepard's dead body. She needed to see the wound. Perhaps it wasn't too late. Using all of her strength, she rolled the Commander onto his back. What she found stunned the woman.

Shepard was laughing. "Well I wouldn't recommend that to everyone." He saw the anger in confusion in Miranda's eyes. He explained. "Concussion rounds. All the effects of a kills hot, without the you know…kill." Miranda shook her head and pulled Shepard to his feet. They quickly retreated to the cab. He pulled his shotgun from his waist. "Now as I was saying, let's get over there and get our man."

Shepard's team was able to join in with the freelancers without anyone raising any alarms. The plan was to use the inexperienced and skittish men as cover to make their way across the bridge. Once there they would neutralize the remaining men and take up defense of the apartment with Archangel. That plan had quickly fallen to the wayside after the vigilante had thinned out most of the attackers. Shepard made his moves as deliberate as possible in eliminating several of the men on his own. His gamble seemed to work as the gunshots from the perched ledge ceased momentarily allowing his team entry into the building. Cautiously Shepard led his team up the staircase. He could hear the gunshots resume behind a large set of doors. He rapped on the door softly. Miranda rolled her eyes and pushed the latch allowing the doors lock to release.

The room was dark, the only light coming from a nearby street lamp. Every few seconds the room would become illuminated from the muzzle blasts of the lone gunman's rifle. Across the room a Turian perched on a balcony overlooking the walkway. Shepard walked forward. "Ermm…Mr. Archangel?" The man put a hand up signaling that the Commander wait. Shepard looked at Jacob. "I guess he needs a moment." The man laughed. A second later a shot rang through the small room. Archangel stood and approached Shepard and his team. Slowly a synthesized voice asked.

"Just who are you people and why the hell shouldn't I just kill you now?"

Jacob answered the man. "We represent Cerberus. We need your help."

The helmeted Turian stepped into the small amount of light, seemingly to wrestle with the human's words before finally offering his answer. "I don't work for people who make their living in exploitation."

"Just who exactly are we exploiting?" Miranda asked accusingly.

"I've seen your work first hand. The thorian, the rachni. Should we ask Admiral Kahoku's family for their thoughts about you people."

The Turian's words struck a deep chord with Shepard. "The thorian…the rach… That's impossible. Just who are you?" Archangel swung his attention to the Commander.

"I'm someone who knows the truth. Who are you supposed to be?"

Shepard joined the man in the band of light created from the lamp outside. "I'm John Shepard. I used to be a Spectre."

"You used to be dead." Slowly the man removed his helmet. Shepard felt a smile cross his face when he saw the face of his old friend.

"Garrus, how the hell did you get yourself stuck in a shit hole like this."

The Turian laughed. "This is my home you're calling a shit hole. How about you tell me what you're doing alive. I watched you die my friend."

The Commander offered a shrug. "It's a long story. Lot's of science involved, You'd probably be bored. Hey, you shot me you son of a bitch."

Garrus still laughing, proclaimed. "Come on, that could barely be called a kill shot."

"It still hurt."

"I'm sorry to interrupt Commander," Miranda called out from the window's ledge. "But perhaps we can continue this reunion after we've dealt with the men that are currently trying to cross the walkway." Garrus and Shepard ran over to join the woman.

Garrus smiled at Shepard. "Just like old times huh Shepard?"

"Let's hope not. I didn't end well for me."

~o~0~o~

The gunship hovered just outside the ripped away wall, its guns trained on Miranda. Shepard, pinned down by gunmen on the stairwell, was too far away to help the woman. Garrus lunged from his cover, knocking Miranda down and shielding her from the erupting gunfire. Within seconds, his kinetic shielding had failed leaving his body opens to a barrage of bullets. Shepard called out for his friend, only to be met with silence. Furiously he and Jacob unloading on the remaining men on the stairs. Miranda had regained her footing and turned her attention to the gunship. Gathering all of her strength, she was able to biotical grab the offending ship's engine and separated it from the chassis. Seconds after the ship fell from the air, they heard the explosion come from the chasm below. Shepard ran over to his friend. Garrus was bleeding. Life was slipping away fast. Miranda came up from behind him.

"Commander, he's fading fast."

He felt the hand on his shoulder.

"Shepard"

Shepard was jolted out of his sleep. He found himself in the infirmary. Slowly it came flooding back to him. Garrus had been hit by the Blue Sun's gunship. He and Jacob carried the injured Turian all the way back to the Normandy. Dr. Chakwas was able to do all she could to stabilize the man but even after hours of surgery, all that they could do now was pray. Shepard had fallen asleep at his friend's bedside. Shepard still felt the hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw that Joker stood beside him.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 0 three hundred hours. How is he?" the pilot asked.

Yawning, Shepard sat up in the chair. "I don't know. Eleanor says that she's done all she can do. She and Mordin worked on him for hours." He looked over at his sleeping friend. "All we can do now is pray." He glanced back at Joker who now stood at the foot of Garrus' bed. The pilot was reading the medical chart. "Do you have any idea what you're looking at?"

"No idea." Shepard chuckled as Joker began to rummage through some of the doctor's cabinets. "Ah here it is." Joker returned to the bedside, brandy bottle in hand. Pouring a glass for each of them he quipped, "Where prayer ends, drinking begins." The two men sat drinking in silence for almost half an hour. Finally the silence was ended by the sound of the infirmary's doors sliding open. Miranda entered the room. Shepard couldn't help but notice that even her sleepwear bore the Cerberus logo.

"Commander, Mr. Moreau."

Shepard took the last drink of the brandy before handing the empty bottle back to Joker. "Jesus, doesn't anyone sleep anymore?"

Joker, throwing the empty liquor bottle away answered. "I can't sleep in my room. There's an evil monkey that lives in my closet." Miranda looked at him curiously. "Why doesn't anyone ever believe me when I tell them that." The pilot pat the Turian on the shoulder, before resigning himself for the night. Shepard motioned Miranda to the open chair. Taking the seat, she picked up Garrus' chart.

"I take it you understand what that says."

Miranda looked appalled. "I brought you back from the dead and you're going to question my medical expertise." When Shepard laughed she hit him with the chart. Immediately she saw him wince in pain. "Commander, has anyone looked at your chest yet?"

With the effects of the brandy swimming around his head, he answered. "Well now that I think about it, I guess it's been over two years." The Cerberus operative showed no sign of amusement. Reluctantly Shepard removed his shirt, revealing the dark bruising across his upper ribcage. Garrus' concussion blast really had hurt, he hadn't lied about that. Miranda reached into one of the drawers and pulled out bandage wrap. She motioned for him to stand up. Slowly she began to wrap up his ribcage. With Shepard standing shirtless before her, she once again stared at his tattoo.

"Commander, your tattoo, what does it mean?" He motioned to Garrus. Miranda pulled the sheet down slightly. She noticed the same markings on the Turian's arm.

"It's Turian. When the soldiers go through a difficult campaign, they form bonds. Some of those bonds go beyond simple comrades in arms. You become brothers. Garrus and I went through it all together." Miranda noticed the sincerity in Shepard's voice. "It represents great struggle, great victory, and heartbreaking loss."

Miranda paused before pinning the bandage. "I'm sorry for the loss of Ashley Williams. I'm sure she must have meant a lot to you."

Shepard nodded. "She did. But she was a believer, so I'm sure she's found peace somewhere." He wanted to change the subject. "What about you? Any tattoos or piercing?"

Miranda handed the shirt back to the Commander. "No I have to say that my body is flawless."

"I'll say." Shepard immediately felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "What I mean- I hum…" He tried to find the words. "I just meant you don't seem like a tattoo kind of girl."

She smiled at him sweetly. "I understand Commander. Now if you will excuse me, I'm headed to bed. I'd suggest you try to do the same." Shepard watched as she walked out of the infirmary.

Standing alone in the middle of the room, he tried to evaluate his conversation with his first officer. "That could have gone better." He heard the graveled voice of his Turian brother from behind.

"I'll say."