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Aria watched without flinching, without changing her expression, as her best guards—all of them—struggled to drag Shepard out of Afterlife. Two were already bleeding, but they held on valiantly and managed to get Shepard's feet off the floor. As quickly as they could, they headed for the door.
"Quite the mouth on her," Aria said quietly, and her eyes slid to one side. His elbow on one arm of the couch, his cheek resting on his fist, Zaeed Massani made a non-committal sound, as he too watched the spectacle without emotion.
She would have expected him to have reacted differently, given his history with Shepard. They'd worked together for—how long, now? It was the blink of an eye, but a long time for humans. At least twenty years. But when Aria had made him an offer to come work for her, Zaeed hadn't even paused to think about it. He'd accepted the offer and walked away from Shepard—just like that.
And Shepard was furious. Aria had seen Shepard in combat, cold and calculating, but had never seen her truly angry. Twenty years ago she might have been frightening in her rage, but now—now she was just sad. Pathetic. She'd screamed epithets at Zaeed that had had no effect on him, and he'd called her a sloppy cow, and Shepard had pulled her weapon. That was the last straw, and Aria had ordered her men to get Shepard out of Afterlife.
Music and laughter and conversation once more filled the air as the doors were closed behind Shepard's howls. Surreptitiously, Aria observed Zaeed a moment longer, but he was relaxed, thoughtful as he watched some of the dancers on the ring. Humans were generally predictable, once you got to know them, but Zaeed played things close to the vest. He had proven straightforward with Aria, never tried any of the bullshit other humans tended to pull, and he kept his thoughts to himself.
Too bad he only had another, what, forty years in him? Probably less. Humans only lived to one-twenty if they hadn't been through the wringer a dozen times as Zaeed had been. But even if his physical prowess was not ideal, his mind was sharp and devious, and Aria wanted him to help her secure her legacy. Liselle's death meant she had no one to whom she wanted to leave Afterlife, but she was damned if she was going to go out the way she had come in. Zaeed was observant and he would spot a threat that others might miss.
Shepard, however, could prove a distracting nuisance. Something would have to be done about her.
Aria turned her head to look pointedly at Zaeed. He turned his head just enough to see her. "That little one on the right," he said quietly. "Better check her out."
Aria looked where he indicated. "Always working, are you?" she wondered, amused.
"It's what you pay me for."
"Right. Why her?"
He straightened in his seat, cleared his throat. "She's always late for her shift, always."
"So I give her hell and dock her pay."
"Won't shake her up," Zaeed said with a shrug. "It's always exactly four minutes after the others are out."
"What is she doing in four minutes?"
"Check security footage," Zaeed said sharply. "She's also not paying attention to her work."
"Some of the patrons like them to look bored and distant."
Zaeed shook his head. "Nah. She's scanning. For something, or someone. Look into it. If I'm wrong, you can fire my ass."
The guards had returned to their posts. At a glance from Aria, Garka nodded and headed down the stairs to talk to Grizz.
Aria shifted in her seat. "I want you to kill her."
Zaeed snorted. "She's just a stupid kid. Probably took money to spy on you, thinks she's having a grand adventure. Not worth killing."
"Not the girl, idiot. Shepard."
He looked up at her again, searched her face. "Why?"
"Because I don't want her coming back here and stirring shit up."
"She won't."
"You didn't think she'd come in here and pull a gun on you, did she?"
He snorted again. "I'm surprised she's only ever done it the once." He dropped his head from one side to the other, elicited a loud crack from each side, and sighed. "Why me?"
"Because you know her. You know how to get close to her, how to get past her. How to get to her."
Zaeed stretched out his legs, folded his arms. "She's a better shot than me," he advised. "Faster."
"You have a means of getting close to her," Aria reminded him shortly. "You can do it, or you can find work elsewhere."
"Ah," said Zaeed. "I see how it is." He sighed. "I'll need an upgrade. Some ammo. Lots of ammo, I guess."
"You'll have the credits and you can find your own fucking ammo."
"All right," he said. He unfolded his arms, stood and stretched a little. "Might take some time. Check out that little girl while I'm gone."
"Don't come back until Shepard's dead. And bring me proof."
"What do you want, her goddamn head on a stick?"
"Something like that." She looked pointedly away from him; the conversation was over.
Zaeed picked up his rifle, a battered old thing; Aria would be surprised if it could even fire straight anymore. No wonder he wanted a new one. As he slipped away—quiet, for an old man in heavy armour—Aria turned her attention to the dancer he'd pointed out.
He was right, she realised; the girl wasn't just playing bored. There was a tension in her shoulders, her hips, around her mouth, and her eyes kept searching for something. Or someone.
Aria waited.
The news spread quickly that Zaeed Massani was gunning for his former partner, and that Aria T'Loak was funding his mission. He was spotted in various ports around the Terminus, making inquiries, purchasing weaponry and ammunition, and even sporting a new top-of-the-line hardsuit.
Still, no one envied him the job of trying to kill Shepard. It had been attempted enough in the past that there was really not enough credit in the galaxy to make anyone else consider it. That Zaeed was willing to do it spoke volumes of the amount Aria was paying him, and it sparked rumours that she was not just paying him in credits.
He finally vanished from the usual haunts, and the mercs knew that the hunt had begun in earnest. Everyone kept their eyes and ears out for Shepard—no one wanted to be in the vicinity when Zaeed found her. The pair had been called the Black Dogs for a long time, for the singular reason that people tended to die when the two of them were near.
Shepard was spotted in bars around the Terminus, apparently attempting to drink herself to death before Zaeed could reach her. She was an unruly drunk, picked fights with local gangs, and in general made people wonder, this is the hero who saved the galaxy?
It would be a kindness, it was said, to let her go out in a fight with Zaeed, before she grew so pathetic that the mere thought of her embarrassed the entire human race.
It was on a refueling station orbiting Imorkan that Zaeed finally confronted Shepard. His new armour and weapons still sparkled; his face was grim and his eyes showed nothing more than determination.
Shepard's armour was as dull as her eyes; her glossy hair had been cut short and was greasy and stuck to her scalp. She stood up to face him, though her legs were not steady, and she sighed.
"So it's come to this, has it," she said quietly. Her voice was hoarse, her tone defeated. "How much is she paying you for it?"
"Enough," he said flatly.
Shepard laughed, a bitter sound. "How much, Zaeed? How much is she paying you to forget what we had together?"
"Look," he snapped, "I would have been happy to let you go on your way. But she wants you dead, so you die."
Shepard reached into a pouch at her hip. "Maybe we both die," she said, and withdrew a small metallic orb.
Zaeed stared at her a moment. "What—?"
Shepard held up the orb and pressed a switch on it with her thumb. "Nice knowing you, Massani," she said.
"Goddamnit," Zaeed hissed, and turned to run.
The bomb caught them both in a white-hot blast.
The station had been a small one, so the casualties had been fairly minimal. Little had been left to salvage—the amount of eezo used in the bomb would have been fatal on its own, even if the station's fuel reserves hadn't ignited as a result of the explosion. The station's owners, one of the larger cartels, absorbed the loss with relative ease, took care to ensure that the remaining eezo in the area the station had been was more or less neutralised, and continued their operations on other stations around Imorkan.
Aria T'Loak accepted Zaeed Massani's death without regret. She'd had no emotional connection to him, after all. She had learned long ago not to let anyone affect her that way; it was too easy to let herself be compromised. As it was, she wished she hadn't had to have Shepard killed; she'd liked the woman. Shepard had always brought a sort of "honour among thieves" to mercenary work, with her own strong code and kick-ass attitude.
It was a loss to be sure, but it was not a personal loss, so Aria pushed it to the back of her mind.
There was a new girl dancing on the ring, now, where the former would-be spy had danced for such a short time. Zaeed had been right about her, of course; it was too bad Aria would never get the chance to thank him for the tip.
She sat back on her couch and observed her world, thoughtful.
A shuttle landed gracelessly at a little-used port that had once been a busy hub. The destruction of Bekenstein's infrastructure by the Reapers had left the planet shattered and all but abandoned. Efforts were being made now to re-colonise it, and building had begun in certain areas. This former port, its remote landing pads still intact, was not in one of those areas.
The shuttle's lone passenger emerged, silent, and waited. The shuttle lifted off and disappeared into the distance; only once it was gone did the passenger lift a heavy duffel and turn to walk toward the sunset.
It was well after dark when a small structure came into view, its windows lit softly from within. A figure sat on a bench outside the building, elbows resting on knees and hands dangling—a thoughtful pose, waiting for something.
Or someone.
Shepard dropped the duffel and Zaeed looked up, stood from the bench. She crossed the space between them and Zaeed slid his arms around her waist, pulled her close, kissed her mouth. She cupped his face in her hands and held him still while she examined him.
"You're all right?" she asked cautiously.
"Never better," he assured her. He lifted a hand and smoothed her hair away from her face.
"It'll grow back," she assured him.
"I don't give a fuck about your hair," he said softly. "I'm just glad—" He pursed his lips. "I'm glad we made it."
"Of course we did," Shepard scoffed. "I did the planning."
Zaeed snorted softly, leaned down to kiss her again and Shepard sighed. "Right you are," he said against her lips. "Come on inside." He waited while Shepard retrieved her duffel, then led her inside, watched for her reaction. Shepard dropped the duffel just inside the door and stared at the cabin's interior, at the round fireplace in the center, at the bookshelves lining the walls, the kitchen in one corner, the door she knew led to a little washroom and the ladder that led up to the loft bedroom.
"It's—perfect," she murmured. "But there's no books on the shelves."
"Those'll come," he said. "I expect your mum and dad's place didn't have full shelves the first day either."
Shepard looked around again and finally let her eyes settle on him. "You did this for me," she said.
"Did it for me," he said drily, "so I could trick you into staying here with me."
"Asshole," Shepard said affectionately, and slapped his hip.
"Takes one to know one," he assured her. "You want a drink?"
"Desperately," she said, and kicked off her boots. Zaeed made his way to the kitchen and Shepard heard the soft clink of glass on glass. She removed her jacket, hung it on a hook near the door, and padded across the polished floor to one of the overstuffed couches facing the fireplace.
Zaeed joined her momentarily, passed her a glass and sat next to her on the couch. Shepard leaned on him and sipped her drink, and Zaeed let one arm settle lightly around her shoulders.
"I suppose we'll have to thank Aria," he suggested.
"We're clear with Aria," Shepard told him. "The deal was that she never sees or hears from us again."
Zaeed held a mouthful of whiskey, savoured the woody taste in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. "Wonder how long it'll take," he said, "before one or the other of us goes stir crazy."
Shepard laughed softly, tilted her head up and kissed his jaw. "No one would have bet we'd have worked together for so long, either," she said. "I think we can handle retirement. We'll get hobbies. I'll build model ships and you'll fix old guns." She sipped again, let the alcohol warm her throat, her belly, and she sighed.
"Right you are," Zaeed said softly, and rested his cheek against her hair.
They drank and watched the fire in comfortable quiet until they fell asleep.