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akiwisfics · 4 years

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In the Middle Chapter 7

Notes: Not technically cross-posted anymore, but two chapters already written. If people get annoyed by this, please savior “kiwi crossposts” to save your eyes.

Description: The war's over, but the mess is still left behind. Kasumi finds herself among the wreckage with unexpected companions and questions that seem almost impossible to answer for. Life keeps moving forward, however, and the surprises it leaves behind aren't always pleasant ones.

Pairings: KasumixSha’ira

“Ms. Maeda, come out please.”

The major was using her alias. That was a good sign. She kept her eyes closed as she listened carefully, noting that most of the steps outside the tent at the moment were whisper-quiet. Trained and unlike the cacophony that Kasumi had grown accustomed to at their camp. The STG had taken over completely at this point, then, but where were the others exactly?

Kasumi had seen no reason to report the initial incident to the STG exactly for this reason. She didn’t want them crawling over the place, rifling through things better left private. They’d done enough already, enough so that she was half-tempted to play up her injuries, appeal to their humanity as a wounded gazelle.

It was probably Sha’ira. She couldn’t blame her for her due diligence. While no doubt she knew there were more secrets to uncover, one of their group members had been killed. She was going to do her own investigation this morning, though mostly to make sure there weren’t any other trip mines in the area they needed to worry about. From there, she could likely figure out some information based on the mine alone. They were a common enough accessory in both various militaries and the terminus systems, but rarely were the models of the same caliber. Most mercenaries had to make do with whatever and whoever would be willing to deal outside of the Citadel, so they were usually handmade or modded in some fashion. Military, naturally, were usually more manufactured, less prone to misfires.

However, a really well paid mercenary could get what they want, especially if they’d been working for a long time. Not many survived in their line of work without knowing how to make their own shit.

Her alibi checked out if there was trouble, at least. Despite what verbal spat (? if it could be called that) her and the consort had the evening before, there was little denying the fact that she had been laid up from her injury, and as far as they were aware, unarmed. Rolling over just confirmed what she knew already. Sha’ira had left early that morning. Her hands still felt warm from when they touched. She admired how freely the consort gave her affection, a small gift with every passing brush and squeeze. While Kasumi affirmed what she could with what ways she could afford, she hadn’t remembered anything beyond a smile or a pat on the shoulder recently. Hugs were even foreign after Shepard’s passing.

Their conversation wasn’t really done, was it? She could admire Sha’ira’s stubborn passion if she wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Maybe it was just a common feature for people like them. It was the only reason she could think of as to why she still hadn’t stirred from her cot.

The tent flap zipped open, and Kasumi met the Major’s exasperated gaze with a placidly affable smile. “You should know better than to spoil me with all this attention,” she greeted, and decided the joke could last a little longer. “I have nothing to do with what’s going on.”

He sighed and pitched his voice lower, just in case there were any prying ears. Based on what little she heard beyond more salarians, he didn’t need to worry. “I’m well aware. Can we discuss this outside?”

“In my condition, Major?”

“The mine didn’t kill you, and it clearly didn’t leave you deaf. Outside.”

He seemed more hurried than last time. If it’d just been the turian’s death, they would’ve swung by sooner. Maybe they had. Though the recovery was quick, Kasumi had been left to her own devices for the most part yesterday. She had her visitors, but beyond a few awkward conversations, the last 24 hours had been a hazy doze-- likely thanks to whatever medigel and drugs Sal had tossed together.

Maybe she could get a change of clothes first. The t-shirt and sweatpants was even more bare compared to their last meeting. Despite a little soreness in her knees, a little bit of heaviness in her chest, it was still easy to stand. What work Sal had done did its job.

A small contingent awaited her as she finally emerged. Major Kirrahe waited just a few feet away, flanked by two members that she vaguely recognized from her run-in. The camp was deserted beyond the rest of the unit, soldiers listlessly flitting from tent to tent, though never staying for longer than a minute or so. They weren’t searching through belongings. Not yet anyway. Clearing the area then? The others were probably secured in a smaller perimeter then, maybe the building where their tower had been installed. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but the interior was gutted enough to house all of them.

Something had happened. She doubted Sha’ira would be considered among the suspects, but Kasumi realized to the STG-- she was the only one accounted for yesterday.

“Nothing in your tent was touched,” Kirrahe offered as he approached. His brow was furrowed and he looked tired, more than anything. Though salarians rarely needed to sleep for long, the major looked overdue for at least an hour or so.

“Not that we’re on the best of terms right now but--”

“One of our men went missing yesterday.”

Ah, another victim then. That narrowed the scope considerably. An average mercenary or soldier wouldn’t easily get the best of an STG member, not without some considerable knowledge of the area. However, that didn’t make much sense. Their group had been there a week, tops, and as far as she was aware, only herself and Sha’ira knew about the other camp in the old university section. “You think one of us did it?”

“... Not necessarily…” he scratched at one of his scales, a nervous habit. She would have to remember that. “We’re simply narrowing down our suspects, Ms. G-- Maeda. Your camp is the only other known party in the area.”

Not the only, but a tabloid reporter didn’t strike her as a murdering type.

“We found him dead earlier this morning. How did the turian die?”

“I never actually saw the body, so.”

Kirrahe hummed in response. “Justicar Samara has offered her expertise with interrogations, but considering you’re the least suspicious person here…”

Oh. This was a nice position. The plan right now had been just to sneak in at some point and take her mods back, but this was a much better and less risky solution to that problem. The major didn’t need her, and Kasumi wasn’t thrilled over the prospect of interrogating people that barely knew her-- people that likely had their own ideas as to why she hadn’t really socialized with anyone else. However, it beat trying to aggravate what good grace that had been left from their first encounter. “How about a deal then?”

“Absolutely not.”

“If there’s a murderer around, I’d like my pistol at least.”

His saucer eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you have another elsewhere, Ms. Maeda. The mods are staying in our possession.”

Sore loser. “You’re making it very hard to do my job, Major. I don’t mind the challenge, but can you really afford it?” She had copies back home, at worst blueprints in case she had to make any necessary repairs or replacements. However, “home” was currently Illium, and wasn’t really easy to access at the moment. She could have Urch or Tianna dig through her workroom, but that wasn’t really time that they could afford. Not with dear Kiera breathing down their necks and Urch’s own research on Khalisah.

“Based on your little save the other day, your observational skills are fine without them.” He sighed and seemed just a little bit less like a military man and more salarian. More like they hadn’t just gotten out of war, hadn’t just pulled himself out of the front lines. “I’m not asking for your help for free. Consort Sha’ira had made very specific… requests on your behalf.”

“She isn’t a suspect then?”

“While technically not cleared, she doesn’t really have means or motive. Her and Sura will likely be released shortly.”

That was nice to hear. “I guess I’ll ask her when I see her.” Clothes came first though. She wasn’t exactly intimidating in her pajamas. The soldiers by Kirrahe stiffened at first as she moved to leave, hands just a tad too secure to their guns for comfort. Right. Just because she had been cleared of one crime didn’t mean they weren’t aware of plenty others. Hopefully they had the sense not to panic the rest of her camp even further with the behavior. They weren’t really known for their panic, but there didn’t always need to be a lot of change for people to start noticing. Sometimes all they needed to see was them with a bit more unease around her than usual.

Still, Kasumi smiled in return and was relieved to see them leave her alone as she began retreating back to her actual tent.

“Ms. Maeda?”

Though she guessed they weren’t done yet. She showed nothing as she turned back, waiting for Kirrahe to continue.

“Do you have any suspects?”

Katul was a thought. He went missing first, but no one had actually mentioned if he was still alive or not. If he had returned after the one person he seemed to have tension with had died, that didn’t look good. However, nothing could shake the ghastly visage he carried and how much it resonated inside of her. She doubted little could shake him from his deep, pervasive grief. It took her months to even want her life again, much less act out against those that took Keiji. Whatever problems the two turians had, it wasn’t like revenge. They would’ve seen something happen far before this. She would’ve acted much faster than this.

Dharshan was also… strange, though she doubted her suspicions on him were anything more of shades from her own past. Though she tried desperately to not let that inhibit her work, she could count what few positive interactions she had with other batarians on one hand. The man was a source of ire recently, but that wasn’t out of any murderous intent on his part. He just couldn’t take the hint that she wanted nothing to do with him.

“If I’m honest? I don’t think it’s anyone from here,” she answered after a moment. “No one really strikes me as the serial murderer and poke the bear type.”

“Poke the bear?”

“... You know. Big, scary, and a bit silly to go after?” Maybe the bear thing was the problem? She wasn’t sure if the major was familiar with Earth biology. “Lot of the people have military experience, but none of them would be dumb enough to go after the STG is all I’m saying.”

“True. I have to ask--”

“Sha’ira and I haven’t mentioned you all were here, no. They either had to have stowed away in the shuttle without us noticing somehow, or had access to the channel like I did.”

“Right. … Thank you anyway.”

She hadn’t blamed the Major for the thought. It would be easier for it to be someone from the group. Someone that they could get today, and not be left digging in the ruins for some phantom. A phantom that was laying traps for everyone. Kasumi knew she had plenty enough to ask still, but unfortunately for them both, a phantom seemed far more likely than anything else at this point.

About all they could hope for was someone close by, and that it was just that. One.

However, Kasumi knew better, and Kirrahe did too.

Her tent was well kept, despite the knowledge that Sha’ira had been in at some point. She knew to grab the QEC, knew to bring it to her when she needed it. It hadn’t surprised her. It was the same reason that Sha’ira was one of the last to leave her tent in the mornings, but one of the first to have movement inside its confines. She didn’t know what all went into being a half-retired consort, but any job worth its credit had its fair network of associates to make it all work.

Maybe that was why it was easy for her to pick Kasumi at her seams. She learned as much as the consort gave away, and yet she couldn’t help thinking that she was just at the surface of what was there. It wasn’t an alluring darkness that drew her in, that much Kasumi was certain. She knew enough to recognize the shades of someone with blood on their hands, how they looked onto the world and regarded the value of life around them.

Like Kirrahe. She didn’t doubt that an unexpected loss of someone from his command affected him, but he made sure not to show it as he talked, as he observed the world around him. He knew enough. Knew that letting that side show meant it was a vulnerability for someone to pick at later, and maybe then another man would die under his watch.

But Sha’ira was different. Her hands had trembled when she spoke of Nelyna, even as she knew enough to try to obscure the incident from Kasumi’s questions at first. She still worried and fussed over Kasumi after her injury, even though someone as close as Shepard would’ve stayed, but she wouldn’t have--

What would she do here? The Major had known her from the war, so perhaps he would’ve approached the situation entirely different either way. She couldn’t recall meeting the man on the Crucible project, but that didn’t really mean much.

The grey-box was still safely tucked in her duffle bag. She ran her fingers against the cool metal and allowed a brief rush of comfort before she finished getting dressed. She could peer into the contents later, maybe to glean some advice from his past experiences-- ones that she hadn’t been afforded on her own.

She spotted a shadow looming over her tent from the corner of her eye and tucked the keepsake back in the confines of her clothes. It was only a second of hesitation before she took the locust instead. Kirrahe already mentioned her having another weapon on her. It shouldn’t spook him too much, and now that there was someone actually making moves against them, she sure as hell wasn’t going to go unarmed.

“Just a second!” she called out as she holstered the gun on her hip. In one fluid motion, she unzipped her tent and emerged-- and froze, half smile at the flash of red and gold in front of her. Well. Maybe should’ve gone without the gun then.

Samara regarded her with a tad more warmth than before, though it really wasn’t much. Her eyes didn’t have the glean of murderous biotics, which was comforting. She found the pistol at her side immediately. “... I see the Major was correct.” Was that relief in her voice…? “I had brought an extra pistol in case you were left without.”

“It’s an old habit.” She stepped beside her as Samara turned back to the main road and halo of buildings. Their target was in the middle, close enough to camp for anyone to pick up the signal of the comm tower from the comfort of their cot. Unless Sal spilled on her work on the Crucible project, this would probably lead to some questions. She just hoped any lies that came up before were believable enough, or so outrageous that they were easily disproven if needed.

Kasumi glanced to her companion, noting idly how quiet her steps were beside her. Her skills were as sharp as ever. “... Can I ask you something?” she chanced.

Samara regarded her with cold eyes, but still she nodded.

“What are you doing here?”

“... I could ask the same, Ms. Goto.”

That was fair. Sha’ira mentioned some grand plan that fell into place with everything, that their intentions and choices would always have meaning. If she thought more, she would know. If she was truly, deeply honest with herself. She wanted to see that red hair in the wreckage and a beating heart. She wanted to find herself again, for once building instead of taking. It wasn’t that simple. It never was. Here she stood, walking with a justicar to solve a murder. Sure, a different sort of thing, but it wasn’t the sort of closure that Sha’ira had been talking about before.

Still, the fact that Samara was talking to her was a good sign. A good chance that Samara would try to murder her by the end of it, but… Shepard still connected them all somehow.

It wouldn’t hurt to give. Just a little. “The crucible plans are gone, if it helps.”

“We had suspected, but it is good to hear confirmation from you directly.”

“Did you know it was me?”

Samara hesitated, stopping just shy of earshot from the salarians guarding the building entrance. It surprised her to see some sort of softness in the way she regarded her, nurturing and motherly. “... I had believed it, though you left no proof,” she said, voice startling serious for how she regarded Kasumi. “... My code may dictate your fate; however, I am allowed… discretion in regards to your heart. It’s rarely necessary, nor is it a train of thought a justicar should explore often. Yet…”

She hadn’t needed to say it, but it still felt nice.

“Commander Shepard trusted you. Whatever reasons you have to be who you are, there is some righteousness in how you regard the world. I am simply grateful that assessment had been correct the first time.”

It was the closest she would get to a compliment. A strange feeling settled inside her at receiving it, undeserved… or maybe just as weird for the justicar to give. Kasumi gave a taut smile in return. “That’s sweet… I think.”

“Do what you will with it. It saved your life this time. It may later.”

Ah. That feeling was gone now. What a surprise.

“We have more important matters to attend to. I would focus on that for now.”

“Right. How do you want to go about this?”

Samara hesitated. “... You are aware I’m afforded little gentleness in my work.”

And neither was Kasumi. However, she didn’t have the same weight dictating her every move. “Right. I’ll lead then… uh, if that’s fine?”

She nodded in agreement, giving away nothing as to how she actually felt about the matter. Probably for the best. They had enough of a heart to heart to last a lifetime. Samara was rarely afforded an unique voice on matters, one that wasn’t dictated by law or code. It was nice to see underneath that she seemed… almost normal. Kasumi was aware she had one daughter still, back in Thessia last she heard. It was strange that they weren’t together, but no doubt she was safe from any remaining trouble left in the galaxy. She still had something pushing her forward to each new day.

Kasumi felt a pang of jealousy at the thought, one quickly buried for later. There was little to envy from Samara. She hadn’t needed to murder Keiji. She hadn’t needed to murder any family for being monsters. There was nothing to envy of that pain no doubt buried inside. And if she was healing, allowed herself the thought? … It was good for Samara. Something that she probably never let happen before. She deserved that chance.

Then Sha’ira’s eye met hers. They must have finished their interrogation with her, just stepping out of the gutted building with a new weight of exhaustion sagging her shoulders. She remembered, albeit vaguely, that she seemed to struggle sleeping the night before. Either not adjusted to the uneven ground, or their conversation still hanging over her head. She wished there had been a better way.

Still, the smile was warm, even tinged by the lack of sleep clear in her heavy gaze. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she bounded the broken steps to where her and Samara stood.

“Better, thanks to you and Sal,” Kasumi said, just as the consort’s finger tips found her again, grazing over the bandage against her temple. She ducked her eyes out of courtesy to the attention and tried to ignore the curious eyes boring into her back.

Sha’ira remained undeterred as she pulled the bandage back, studying the healed over gash. Whatever she saw was to her satisfaction it seemed, as she peeled the bandage completely off this time and folded it neatly between her fingers. “I would have preferred you in bed longer, but I understand these are extenuating circumstances. I trust you two will clear up matters quickly.”

“What’s the next step for yourself, Consort?”

She smiled just a bit wider. “Not wise for any of us to have idle hands right now, Ms. Maeda. Come by my tent later?”

“You bet.”

Satisfied with the response, Sha’ira slipped between them, hand briefly brushing one of her shoulders as she left.

Kasumi sighed in relief, happy to know that she could put off that awkward conversation just a bit longer. Then felt those curious eyes on her again. She looked to the justicar, and noted the bemusement sent her way. “What?”

“... How long have you two known each other, exactly?”

“Does it matter?” She kept the defensive edge out of her voice. It wasn’t like Samara to be curious, and while not welcomed, it wasn’t for malicious purposes. God, she hoped not anyway.

“Simply…” Then Samara caught herself and shook her head. “No, that’s true. Let us continue then.”

“I didn’t think you were much for gossip either way.”

If she didn’t know better, she would almost say there was a blush on the justicar’s cheeks. Honestly, she appreciated signs of something beyond the stern warrior bravado she put up. Even if that figure was so morose underneath.

She let Samara lead the way into the gutted structure, following about a half step behind and naturally falling into what habits she knew and felt comfortable in. Interrogations weren’t new to her, though rarely did they involve people that already knew her in some capacity. She usually didn’t have her face out in the open either. And there wasn’t an obligation to keep those people alive afterward-- usually. Sometimes she had if the person was freaked out enough, but that was as rare as innocence in the Terminus Systems.

Ten of them total? Nine, if they disregarded the victim’s widow. No one looked surprised to see her as she crossed the threshold. There were four more salarian guards positioned around the large ruined lobby, ones that didn’t directly look at either her or Samara as they came in. The ramp leading to the roof was installed in the back, and through its make-shift stairway, she noticed another soldier casually squatted on one of the remaining pieces of stone, idly checking the sniper rifle secured in his hands. They had a skeleton crew back at their own camp then. Made sense.

Katul and Sura sat furthest from the entrance, talking quietly amongst themselves. Though the turian looked haggard, he didn’t appear injured, which made his disappearance odder in her eyes. What had he been doing to be gone so long? Sura seemed… better than yesterday. Maybe her words meant something after all, even if it barely covered everything.

Darshan was, predictably, praying by the ramp, robes trailing on the dirt and dust as he paced. She smelled a hint of rosemary in the air. Though it wasn’t typical for the few rituals that Kasumi knew of, perhaps he was making do with what resources were still around. Sal sat on his knees against the left wall, another cigarette planted between his odd litt lips. He waved as soon as he saw her, but for once didn’t seem to be in the mood to follow that up with any remarks or questions. Mostly normal then.

Elcor and Krogan on the other side. Neither of them were up for talking, it looked like, but she wasn’t sure if that was how they actually felt or a natural disposition of the species. Meeran… Maron? The pilot was absent once again. Either speaking with their benefactor or had already been cleared to leave. The volus was sat on a broken piece of concrete, short suited legs dangling over the ledge as he observed the space around them passively. Maybe Nora helped him up it. The drell appeared to be asleep next to the broken piece, using the cool concrete as a backrest as she slept.

No panic. They had been stuck inside here for a while then, but not quite long enough for anyone to start complaining. Likely the structure and how very armed their guards were kept any aggression to a minimum.

Frankly, Kasumi didn’t know enough to really exonerate them, but nothing from the dossiers she read stood out either. Military backgrounds, but so did everyone in some capacity or another at that point. They just got out of war. Near extinction. She was surprised anyone had the energy right now to go on a killing spree.

“I will let you lead,” Samara reiterated as she observed the crowd herself, just as passively. If she had any suspicions, she kept it to herself.

The only thing they could do was just… start. With any luck, Kasumi would get more answers along the way. She scanned the field of faces in front of her and chose the first name that came to mind. “Sura?”

The asari stopped her conversation short and turned her head to them, obvious relief shown in soft eyes. Kasumi only hoped that relief wouldn’t be misinformed.

There were a few theories.

The happiest would be that the murders were coincidental. Sure, that would mean that there were two separate murderers out there that Kasumi no doubt would be involved in, but separately? They wouldn’t be so competent as to make two people from two separate camps to disappear and then murder them. It would just be one-- one which may have been some crime of passion or whatever, and another competent enough to take out an STG member. Two people not working together, weren’t collaborating together and now were more likely to make sloppy mistakes.

Or they weren’t coincidental. Then… why a group anyway? It just seemed natural. A hunch, it would be called on any popular media. Really it was just recognizing the signs from personal experience. Sure, one person could’ve killed the turian Thyra then placed mines all over the place, but that was a pretty short time window from them starting to search for Katul, to finding and killing Thyra, and then placing the traps. Guy would have some pretty decent cardio.

Then the next day killing someone from the STG? Something that would give Kasumi trouble even on home turf? Just having another body somewhere facilitated every single step.

Exactly who and why were harder questions. If it was just STG targeted, she could maybe suspect another government organization, like the Alliance or one of the few surviving spectres in the galaxy. Maybe to protect what few secrets could be found in the remnants of the Crucible. However, it wasn’t just one of their members dead, and whatever secrets could be found weren’t very much and would require a shit load of resources to make. Those few organizations left also, almost certainly, had better things to do with their time than just blanket killing other groups in the area. If there were other ones here, no doubt STG had or were investigating them as well.

The other option was either mercenaries or just a couple of crazies, though they weren’t mutually exclusive categories. People like them tended to be shorter-sighted, and usually, they didn’t need a lot of resources to sell information to the highest bidder. If Liara was still alive, she might have even expressed interest in something like that. It was a thought, briefly in the haze and chaos of everything happening, to keep the plans for herself, sell them when things calmed down, and go about her merry little way. Maybe Shepard had improved her a little.

So mercenaries were her strongest theory, but it hadn’t exactly explained Thyra’s death. Their camp was stationed near derelict reaper carcasses, something that would pique Kasumi’s interest if it hadn’t reminded her of nightmares-- screaming, melting colonists, the screams of banshees ringing in her ears, the metallic taste in her mouth turning everything to ash--. Perhaps others were able to stomach looking into the jungle of wires of old gods. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

(They also weren’t close enough to the old university to be a bother, but maybe, just maybe, there was a scrap here or there near their position to grab someone’s attention. Either way, they’d need everything to know how it worked. Kasumi made sure of that.)

So it really wasn’t interrogation perse. Just… asking questions. Knocking herself out had left her without crucial information. She would go out in the night later, find the graffiti wall and the spot where Thyra died. She wouldn’t leave without more information though, and preferably not without her mods. She did have a spare cloaking unit, tucked between the pages of one of her books. If she was really that desperate--

“Um.”

Ah. Sura first, she guessed. There weren’t many spots left that would be considered private in the vicinity of the camp. Sura’s steps were expectantly careful on the plywood, practiced like a commando should be. They weren’t quiet-- commanding the building to heed to every step. In another time and place, Kasumi would imagine her head hanging just a bit higher, not lost on grieving her lover.

“I’m sorry. I was just getting my thoughts together.” Kasumi provided a bit lamely as they all stood somewhat listlessly in the open expanse of the roof. The sky was clear today, sun a bit harsh on the high point of the roof. Neither Sura or Samara seemed bothered by the heat, even though she couldn’t recall Thessia being particularly tropical-- especially when compared to the likes of the Salarian homeworld. Her stops at both planets were brief affairs.

“I know this is…” Sura half-started, then seemed to think better on her approach. “What did you do again?”

“Consulting.”

The asari looked awkwardly between them, but knew better than to question the answer given.

Kasumi scratched at the healing scar and sighed. “... I don’t think you did it for the record. You both seemed, well, happy with each other. And we talked before.”

Sura sagged at the very thought, and Kasumi was reminded how little she wanted to do this. She hadn’t even wanted the conversation yesterday, and now? Now she was expected to pick apart a story she didn’t have. What a dumb string of events.

And despite it, she mustered what voice she had and continued. “I assume you went with Thyra that day? Did you two get separated later on?”

Sura nodded. “We were just trying to cover more ground. She-- Thyra was never much for trekking. Small for a turian, you know?” She knew that look. Sura was already on that stage of ‘what if’. The very thing she warned her against. “... She promised she’d stay on the main roads. I… I guess she heard something.”

“I’m sorry,” and Kasumi truly meant it. “No one could’ve known this would happen. Just… don’t think on it too much. It just makes it worse.” Like how she could’ve stayed with him. She could’ve called off the plan. All sort of things. It didn’t, wouldn’t bring him back. “... How did she die? I was uh, out of commision before the body was actually found.”

And why did Sura look surprised by that. She didn’t say, but it was enough to get Kasumi’s mind to wander. “... She was shot. Sal suggested a sniper, I think? I’m sorry, I- I don’t really have much more than that. The shot looked clean? I’m not really--”

“It’s fine,” she wasn’t expecting her to memorize every detail. Not everyone had a morbid recollection like that. “Tell the guards you’re free to go.”

“... Thank you.”

Samara hummed behind her, just as she had bid Sura on her way. “... I am surprised,” she noted, though her tone indicated nothing on that actual feeling. “I would expect you to be much harder on your associates.”

“If I thought she had more to say, I would’ve asked. You said it yourself. I’m not heartless.”

“What brought you on the Normandy to start with, if I may ask?”

That was… fair. Kasumi knew her story, even if Samara didn’t know that she knew. Maybe she had. While she wasn’t part of that initial trip into Illium, she had listened in on everything that happened on the Normandy. It kept her safe, and it kept her from being too bored when she was relegated to support. That became less so once Shepard and her had developed their odd sort of friendship, but well, it still didn’t hurt to listen.

Would it benefit Samara at all to know more than she did? … Probably not, but that didn’t mean it was worth sharing the sordid details. If anything, she was glad to hear that Shepard respected her privacy. “Cerberus offered a good deal at the time. I didn’t have a reason to stay once that was done.” Not technically a lie, but Samara could guess that there was more to the story if she really wanted.

“You don’t work for credits.”

“Presumptuous, but you’re right. Again--- does it really matter?”

“If you have personal matters that might affect your reasoning--”

“Noted, Samara. The concern is touching though.”

The small hiss of breath on her end was interesting, but Samara didn’t press further.

---

Sal came up next, though that wasn’t who she asked for. He was smart enough to put out the cigarette in the lobby and left his smile there too. If anything, he just seemed annoyed about the whole situation. Kasumi could understand it on some level; he likely knew some of the people currently holding him there. It probably didn’t feel great to be under their scrutiny for once.

His steps were quick up the roof, not subtle at all and lacking the grace she would expect from someone in his rank. Maybe he had been forced into the Crucible project early, and hadn’t been on the front lines in some time. Either way, he bursted through the door to the roof and was immediately on her, grabbing her arms and lifting her jacket up.

“Hey!” Kasumi called out and tried to push her jacket down through his grabbiness. Sal was undeterred as he snatched one of her wrists, twisting it out of the way.

“I can’t believe you just walked out of that tent without clearance first! You’re my patient first of all and--”

The warp immediately knocked him off his feet. He crashed onto the hard concrete and screeched several feet away, nearly off the roof completely. He looked kind of sad crumpled like that. The only indication that he was alive after the assault was a meek and pained cough.

Samara breezed past Kasumi, the aura of biotics surrounding her frightening and sudden.

“Hold on!” she called after the justicar. The cry was ignored.

Latching onto Sal’s collar, Samara dragged the poor salarian back to the center of the roof. He was only given a moment of reprieve before being dropped back onto the ground once he was at a position that seemed satisfactory to her. “Explain. Now!” she snarled.

Sal groaned, pathetic as he curled into himself.

“... He’s a medic,” Kasumi supplied for him.

And she was fine, for the record. Sal? A quick once over from Kirrahe after, and he was sent on his way. It was little consolation at that point.

Nora came up next. The drell was a strange sticking point for everyone at that point, she assumed. Between the birds, how she often wandered alone-- and as far as she could tell, she had been just as reclusive as Kasumi herself. All things considered, she was the most suspicious person among them, but it was all the more reason she hadn’t considered her at all.

Frankly, it was too obvious an answer. What she remembered from the dossier was that she was like most drell-- she served the hanar until the war, and then went from company to company, doing what she could for the war effort. Her specialization as a sniper was a point against her, but beyond maybe a bit of post-indoctrination crazy (or something), she was about as normal as what she expected from anyone that spent most of their life fighting. Especially for folks like the hanar.

As an aside, she hadn’t heard much from the hanar since the war finished. She wasn’t sure if the insular nature of its society kept it that way, or if perhaps, enkindler proselytizing at the moment would be in… poor taste.

Nora didn’t stand out much as a drell. Her blue skin and spots were something Kasumi had seen in plenty of others, though the way her eyes constantly observed her surroundings, using the drell’s photographic memory to its full advantage, spoke of someone with experience. Compared to the previous two, she stood very nonchalantly and seemed unconcerned by the turn of events.

“It must be nice to have friends in high places,” Nora said, observing the concrete and brokenness below them.

“It’s not as cozy as it looks,” Kasumi responded in kind and sat at the edge of the building, letting her legs dangle over the asphalt. Nora plopped down beside her and it was like any other morning.

“They must like you. No chaperones… well, one chaperone, I guess.” And she blinked and twisted her body around to peer at the justicar, head tilted at an odd angle. “You must have a lot of work to do, Justicar. Lots of bad people left in the galaxy, I would imagine. Though you folks stay in asari space, don’t you? And lots of you died when...”

Whatever look Samara gave Nora shut her up pretty fast. She turned back around, huffing.

“You don’t keep good company.”

Kasumi snorted.

“Am I a suspect?”

She shrugged. “Who did you go with?”

“The batarian. He’s the only one that likes me enough. Except for you, maybe.” She tapped on the concrete space between them, and seemed to wince at the temperature underneath. “Are you familiar with drell physiolo-- no. Of course you are.” Kasumi wasn’t sure why she would think that, but plenty of time with Thane taught her enough. “It’s cold here. And wet. If I did more than I’d need to, I’d kiss my sorry ass goodbye. I’m already going to have to for coming here at all.”

That was an interesting point, actually. “Why are you here?”

“Simple. I don’t want to go back to Kahje. At this point? I’m gonna die somewhere. Might as well be at a place I like. Picking fights with STG and people just trying to live aren’t on my to do list in the meantime.”

“Do you have your rifle with you?” Samara remarked from behind them.

“Nope! Feel free to check. Make it this girl that does it though? She gets me.”

Kasumi paused. “Do you even know my name?”

Nora threw her arms up. “It’s probably fake. Mine is. Who gives that shit for free these days?”

“Izumi Maeda.” Samara practiced the words with careful fluidity, as if testing the strength when spoken out loud. Admittedly, it sounded strange coming from someone that had long known better. Like it was too thick in the justicar’s mouth, too careless and too big. It would spill over any second.

“Did Sha’ira tell you all?”

“Among other requests,” she replied, a bit more thoughtful than before. Maybe she felt bad after nearly cleaving Sal in half. “... She is… unexpectedly shrewd.”

“Surprised me too.”

“Are you close with her?”

Kasumi wasn’t sure what she meant. That they talked? That they were friends? Had she slept with her? That was always the problem with being too tactful. Sometimes that ambiguity hung in the air, and she was left wondering if one answer or another would give away too much. Deflection it was then. “You met her before?”

Samara sighed through her nose, glancing only once or twice to the door. Perhaps to make sure they would stay alone for the moment. She hadn’t heard any footsteps. Krogans especially were loud, no matter how hard they tried to be sneaky. “... Our paths have crossed a few times. It seems it always ends the same.”

“Yeah?”

“It is the nature of politics to fall into a realm of grey, Ms. Goto. I’m sure you’ve seen that enough.”

That she did, but where was she going with it, exactly?

“A word of advice as friends,” and her voice was grave, graver than usual. “I would be careful with her. A knowledge like the consort’s... at so young an age? It is rarely gained through clean hands.”

…

Why couldn’t she just have nice things?

The krogan, it turned out, was named Belak, and was one of many that joined Urdnot after Grunt’s infamous joining. She was surprised to hear it-- considering the age that clearly showed on his scaly skin and the worn scars that gnarled deep into his plate. He looked happy to see her alive, and a little gentle prodding kept him from trying to headbutt her in greeting. She didn’t need a more severe concussion as congratulations on her speedy recovery.

Still, they talked for a while. He had gone with the volus, figuring that he needed someone big to keep the scrawny thing from rupturing his suit somewhere. They had been on the other side of the perimeter when the call came in, not nearly enough time to set up something so elaborate and then book it.

“Wasn’t long after we found Katul, actually. Guy was banged up from a nasty fall,” and he laughed, a deep bravado and gruffness that was so, so krogan. “They’re just all bones and so, so tiny. Surprised he didn’t break his back.”

“It was the other turian that died, remember?” Kasumi remarked, but couldn’t help feeling a bit nostalgic honestly. She wondered how Grunt was doing with all this mess. No doubt he was back at Urdnot helping to clean up. Though she didn’t really know what a normal Tuchanka was supposed to look like.

“Yeah, I guess that’s sad, or whatever. At least you got hit doing something nice.” He perked up then, as if remembering something. “Hey, is Sal going to be alright? Squishy bastard owes me a few hundred credits.”

A lack of empathy didn’t mean a guilty conscience, so after checking in with the volus, both were let go to continue their business.

“Should we get the elcor next?” Samara asked as the volus left, bumbling down the stairs with a heavy sigh.

Kasumi looked at the width of the planks and shook her head. “He won’t make it up. We’ll talk to him once everyone else is done.”

“That leaves… the batarian and the turian, correct?”

Neither of which Kasumi really wanted to talk to. However, no one would let her procrastinate further. She would keep her words as neutral as possible and hoped the threat she left the priest with yesterday was enough to keep his mouth shut. The last thing she wanted was Samara to know.

To push off that particular issue a bit longer, she chose Katul first. It would be good to start with something simple maybe. A cursory check of his injuries? Maybe a lighthearted joke about him being her errand boy? Neither of them seemed appropriate. Perhaps a simple ‘how’s he feeling’ would do to ease an already skittish man into talking.

His steps were heavier and slower than usual. A surprise with how haunted he was ordinarily.

He came to the roof, and Kasumi’s voice died in her throat.

Something was wrong. She hadn’t noticed in the crowd before, but now that it was just three of them, she had much fewer distractions. The shiftlessness, the way his eyes seemed to drag as he flitted his gaze from her, to Samara, to the expanse beyond them, to the sky above. He… he was ghastly. And the pain inside was so open for the world to see, so much more raw and visceral than before.

She saw a man a moment away from wailing, and she felt that brewing inside her, always ready to claw itself to the surface. It just needed the right trigger-- a smell, a tugging thought, sometimes just a certain shadow that would creep in at night, tricking her just long enough to think it was Keiji in her sleep-addled mind.

She stared and dug right into Katul’s soul, and found something even worse inside.

Samara’s touch on her arm startled her, and at once she was back in reality. She wasn’t alone, and too quickly she would have to put herself back together. Kasumi brushed the touch away with as kind a hand as she could muster and found her voice again. “... What happened?”

“Sura hadn’t told you?” his voice was even, but he stayed rooted just past the door that he came from. “Thyra is-- was my daughter.”

No.

No, she wasn’t doing this.

It didn’t matter that he was gone for too long. That his movement and time was the most unaccounted for. It didn’t matter. The STG could work that out for all she cared.

“Leave,” couldn’t come out quick enough.

“Ms. Goto?”

She didn’t know she was staring.

“Would a break help you?”

How come it didn’t bother Samara? Maybe she wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Maybe it shouldn’t take a new piece of her every time, leaving her with holes and broken parts that no amount of wiring and tinkering could fix. She wanted to stop remembering, but it-- it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to her. The emotions, the passion, the love and inspiration that carried her forward.

Samara had lost more. Lost worse. It was one thing to lose a lover. It was another to lose a child. To lose children. Her daughters. And she did it by her hand. Her hand with the same biotics and skill that terrified her. Who was Morinth? How could she put so much inside herself that she was okay again? Kasumi wanted it. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t--

She felt cool fingers curled against her temples, and suddenly she found two passive eyes looking back, except they were warm, motherly. She saw a gentleness there, of a person buried underneath. Someone that saw her daughters before her, trembling and vulnerable.

Sympathy. Understanding. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Kasumi closed her eyes and breathed.

She didn’t ask for Darshan, but he found them just the same. Kasumi had slumped against the wall next to the door at that point, already more exhausted than she had ever been. Samara was messing with her omni-tool not far, back to the cool demeanor she was used to. The silence had been comfortable, but it didn’t take much to pick up Darshan’s heavy gait, weighed down by the robes he had on him.

“Company,” she called out to Samara, who quickly shut the omni-tool down and turned to greet their visitor. By the time Kasumi stood, the door had creaked open.

There he stood, and already she felt herself stiffen.

“You weren’t requested,” Samara greeted coolly. “I understand this is a process, but you must exercise patience, priest.”

She rubbed her temples. “It’s fine. We’ll get this done quick.”

Samara looked ready to disagree, but the priest interjected quickly, sweeping into the roof. “I appreciate your accommodation, Ms. Maeda. I… I must confess something.”

Not this again. Kasumi rolled her eyes and crept closer to the man, ready to throw him off the building if even a single word came out about her time in slavery. She was not going to be this man’s redemption arc, no matter how badly he wanted it. “If this is about what we--”

“There is another group here.”

What?

Samara seemed less than impressed. “We’re aware of several actually.” What?! “But please elaborate, priest.”

“... I had tried telling you yesterday,” he was not going to blame her for this. Fuck that. “It’s a band of batarians. I’m not sure where they are exactly, but one of their members reached out when we first landed.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” She tried to keep the irritation down. Certainly, certainly he had his reasons. They could be refugees. Could be another dead end. It’s not like slavers had the resources or the market to start culling again.

“I…” Darshan glanced to Samara, and thought better on his initial response. Fortunately. “... I am aware of our reputation right now. I assumed they were just trying to survive. It didn’t make sense to incite panic at the time.”

“But if they have been here for some time…” Samara found her mark.

“Please. They might have their reasons. We didn’t all just die when the reapers came, and if there are some life left--”

“It’s okay,” she found herself saying, even if she wasn’t sure she really meant it. It would do better than to panic the priest further anyway. “Did they say where they were when you talked with them? How did they make contact before I had the tower up?”

“I ran into a scout while we were setting up camp. He… he didn’t mention where the rest were.”

That was a lie, but that was fine. If his story checked out, they were likely between the two camps. Still a lot of ground to cover, but if they had a settlement, there would be signs before she saw it. Pathways, landmarks for strays. She had a lot of work to do this evening. After all of this, she wasn’t sure how much sleep she would be getting anyway. Though they had a sizable unit at the camp, Kasumi knew enough about STG habits to sneak out. A quick chat with Sha’ira, a stop by her tent, and she would be out as soon as the sun set.

But what to do with him? It would be easier to let STG do what they liked, took out a potential liability before he had the chance to spill further information and awkward conversations. He didn’t really deserve it though. Despite hiding this for as long as he did, he had… reasons. Understandable reasons. He didn’t know she recognized her own biases. As far as he knew, she was just an angry woman that wanted nothing to do with him.

But even beyond that, she doubted the STG would let him roam freely around the camp. She looked to Samara, who remained carefully stoic. “... I’m sure the major will have his own ideas, but don’t kill him?”

She nodded. “They will be upset if you leave.”

Kasumi offered a smile in apology. “I’ll bring good news back. Promise~.”

---

The elcor was still waiting patiently by the time she bounded down the last few steps. Oh. She forgot about him.

He craned his neck and looked at her. Sometimes, if she looked hard enough, Kasumi would say that the elcor were a species that was constantly smiling. Still, he had clearly behaved, and she had enough information to go about her business. It’s not like an elcor could hold a sniper rifle. … Or could they?

“You’re free to go,” she still offered.

“With relief: I am happy to hear that this matter will be resolved shortly. Exasperated: I have much to do, then. Please, excuse me…” and off he went, lumbering and squeezing through the entrance of the gutted building with some effort.

She would have to brush up on her elcor biology later.

---

The QEC felt good in her hands. It was modded of course, like most any piece of tech Kasumi carried around with her. Multiple encryption channels, decryption keys for whenever she was ever curious, voice modulator and screen distortion if she ever felt like being super spooky. Amazing how many people still fell for simple tricks like that.

“I’m glad I could keep it safe for you.” Sha’ira’s eyes wrinkled when she smiled. The one just wide enough to show perfect teeth. It was nice to see such warmth easily given after spending all day with a justicar.

“I hope you didn’t just guard it all day. You certainly had better things to do.”

“Something more difficult, I’m afraid.” Sha’ira brushed her shoulders, dusting off what soot and dust that may have collected clamoring up and down the building all day. “Did we find anything?”

She grinned. “A crumb trail. Don’t wait up for me.”

Sha’ira’s smile waned, eyes deadly serious. “... Alone?”

What other choice was there? Samara was good at what she did, but what she did wasn’t subtle. Major Kirrahe would be doing his own investigation, and following up with whatever parties were out there. If she asked, sure, she could probably get a guard or two to keep her company, but that was if he let her out of the confines of the camp in the first place. “Sneaking around is kind of what I do. I’ll be fine.”

“What about you friend?” Her brow furrowed. “... Do the others know about them?”

Khalisah? The idea of seeing her in a catsuit was hilarious honestly, but she had a better use for that camera this evening. Maybe a bit of bargaining and she could be a security camera. Make sure no one was looking for her back at camp. Though she wouldn’t really expect someone so… normal to make a habit of staying up all night. “I’m sure she’d like to keep the others from finding out. Do you mind?”

“If you trust her, then I shall as well. Hopefully she’s able to defend herself.”

Oh, most definitely not. The reporter seemed smart enough to have a security system in place at her campsite though. She wouldn’t be taken out easily.

Still, Sha’ira didn’t look pleased. Her eyes flickered to the rest of the campsite, careful-- always careful of who was watching or listening. “... If I can’t dissuade you, at least stay long enough for me to apologize.”

There they were again. How often they danced like this? Sha’ira was an adept one, Kasumi admitted. She tangled herself in her words and slipped through where each opening laid. She didn’t think the consort meant an actual apology, but more an olive branch, ensuring the conversation continued in a way that Kasumi wouldn’t shrink away again. It was being offered with an open hand again.

To Sha’ira, was she a ghoul looking back? An empty face, staring unblinking into her well of grief, just as Katul had before her?

“... You don’t need to,” Kasumi chanced, awkwardly given between half-starts and half-finished thoughts she didn’t want to voice. “... I… I would like to continue that talk, actually. Maybe when I get back?”

The relief that washed over Sha’ira made the concession alone worth it. “I believe it would be good for us both.” She found her left hand, threading it between her own and squeezing gently. “... It won’t be without its rewards, Kasumi. I promise you that.”

She still wasn’t sure. But maybe she would find something in it, or make something new out of the little bits of herself she had left. If she could be better, was it wrong to reach for it? Samara had. Katul would, in time. She saw the earnestness in the way Sha’ira looked on her, so open. The only thing she could think to do was tuck herself further away. “... I like chamomile?”

“Done. Oh!” The smile was back as she stepped away, back toward the entrance of her tent. “... I left a surprise for you at your tent. Though you feel it unnecessary, I think you’ll find it apology enough for the trouble.”

As if talking about her problems was a burden to anyone but the listener. “All day for me? You spoil me, Consort.”

And there was pride in the way she smirked. A look that wasn’t so unfamiliar on herself. “I do my best.”

Please don’t ask for anything else.

- Kirrahe

She stared at the assortment of mods, having been packaged neatly in its own dark bag-- secured safely inside her tent and out of sight. She began sorting through the collection, knowing the order with automatic, fluid grace and motion. Though she rarely disassembled her omni-tool completely, it never hurt to know how each one connected to one another.

Her hand brushed against another datapad, buried deep within the bag.

Be safe.

- Sha’ira

…

Of course. Of course she knew Kasumi would. Maybe the woman was dangerous.

It made the whole game more exciting that way.

#kiwi crossposts #mass effect #fanfiction #multichapter fics #kasumi goto

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akiwisfics · 4 years

Text

In the Middle Chapter 5

Notes: Cross-posted from AO3. If people get annoyed by this, please savior “kiwi crossposts” to save your eyes.

Pairings: KasumixSha’ira

She liked parties.

It was sorta thrilling, watching how everyone around her unwound after a few glasses, let their voices grow a little louder, their emotions a little wilder. She was usually gifted with looser tongues that would slur something valuable-- whether a good tip for a heist or just a juicy story she could mull over or humorously share later. It was that little bit of madness and companionship that both unified and ripped people away from each other.

The party in Shepard's apartment hadn't been so different, though Kasumi had never been accustomed in sharing in the festivities. 'Sharing' being a very loose term for it, if her own observations in how parties were supposed to be were any indication. When she was still a little foolish, still more green than master, she had been more open with her enjoyment, letting herself get thrown in the music and the drinking, and the dark, slippery temptation with it. But mistakes were easily sown in that, so even with a few drinks in her stomach, it was easier to watch from... afar. Sorta afar. Mostly just the cloak.

Now though, her stomach was starting to churn into an ugly build-up of acid and god knows what else, and there was something sour burning the back of her throat, promising a more restless night once a bit too many drinks were passed, and people were a little too dead to the world to be entertaining.

She laid on her stomach against the soft sheets and mattress of Shepard's bed, trying to absorb its warmth so it could embrace her tightly and perhaps then, sleep would come to her. Another roll of her stomach promised little in that endeavor, though perhaps, Shepard wouldn't be pressed to move her either.

In fact, there was a small patter of footsteps, haphazardly followed by a thump against the doorframe. The stench of alcohol and whatever Vega was cooking in the kitchen was thick enough to taste-- bitter, spicy? something else with it, but nothing appetizing. Something else had been mixed in her drink. Dairy? Why now?

She didn't bother to look at the visitor with the new turning of her stomach.

"Kas~, don't tell me you're the first out tonight," Shepard whined, drawn out before she slumped on the mattress beside her, just an inch or so away. She wiggled a moment before setting her chin on her palms and presenting a stern pout to Kasumi. "I know you're better than that."

She shut her eyes tightly and groaned meekly into the sheets.

"Don't give me that!"

"Get a better bartender next time."

"What? Like you? Your drinks were too weak."

Kasumi huffed. "I could've given you ryncol, and you would've complained, Shep."

"Okay, well, maybe." A brief pause then, introspective if Shepard had the capacity for it at the moment. She was a little doubtful of it, but still, her face had drawn into itself, something frustrated and pensive before she sank fully in the mattress with a long, drawn out sigh. "There is one thing you have over Vega."

"The ability to break into a casino without some double-agent bumbling through it?"

"You tell better stories," she gave her a silly smile, even though the hushed voice gave away all the exhaustion that seemed to just come with the act of laying down-- traces of a yawn being pushed back. "You're not afraid to talk yourself down a little bit for the sake of a good time-- or to admit when you lost."

"I think I told you a little too much honestly."

She laughed and turned her head to face her, excitement brimming in her eyes. "Can you tell me one now? Just for old times."

"How long has it been?"

"Mmm. Seven mo-- no eight. Or was it nine?"

"The war seems to stretch forever, huh?"

She waved a finger, tsking with a stern frown. It looked even more ridiculous with the flush on her cheeks. "No, no, we're not talking about that. This is my one night. One. Night. That I don't have to think about that fucking work. So tell me a story."

There were a hundred ones that they shared between each other, some with excitement and thrill, laughter between each other, other days more with grief. A lot of grief. Maybe for tonight, they could go with something in between.

"You wanna know how my eyes got so messed up?"

"They're messed up?" Shepard glanced back with the bright scarlet eyes, the glow something weird and unfamiliar, but still familiar with the way she looked in the mirror sometimes to see the glint of something amber. The laughter was so joyous that followed though, removing some tension that had came with the question. "So. I'm guessing a ship didn't blow up you and you didn't die first?"

"No. Not nearly as dramatic. Sorry about that."

"But interesting?"

She chuckled. "Please, Shepard. I'm one of the best storytellers in this galaxy."

The rain had cleared, but the clouds remained grey, misty and dreary. Still, Kasumi felt... well. It wasn't often when she slept so well, felt a peace and quiet settle inside of her from the moment she woke up. Usually there was an odor of ash and metallic, something that triggers just enough to chase sleep away-- or a thought that would possess her, only leaving when it reached its end, usually in the form of an invention or a modification. Always something to do, to work.

But no. A good memory instead-- one of the last she had before Earth. She didn't know what having a family really meant, but the Normandy. The Normandy had been close, still is. Some of them were still out there. As distant as she felt, Shepard wasn't the only person she could trust on board. It would be harder to reach out, but she-- she was in control of that. They had no way to reach her, but she can. It was the nice thing about it all. Control.

She stepped out, lazy and still a little groggy, black hair brushed back. Maybe the drinks between them had facilitated it all, or the ease of the conversation from the night before had been enough to distract her.

The streets felt cool on her bare feet, still a little damp from the night before and the morning dew, but it was really the best feeling. Even as a little girl, more servant than human, the earth against her feet was always a welcome comfort. Back then though, it had been in caverns that held the promise of fortune. Which meant hard, sharp stones and the bits of metals from tools that were left behind in their broken state. She still had little nicks and scars, though far too many and far too faded to count now at 28.

The streets of London weren't so different, though at least, they had made some attempt to clear away the glass and debris around their campsite, making it slightly less hazardous to do so. Slightly. She doubted that if a shard of glass had been stuck at the bottom of her foot, she would feel it until hours later. On her feet too much.

There was a street corner not far from her tent, still with a little sign on it-- though the metal was so charred and nearly off the pole that reading it was impossible. Just barely a hint of green left. It wasn't a bad place to sit down and watch the streets for a little while, just before everyone would meander their way through the morning routine, and sometimes, eventually, to breakfast. It was still always easier to watch rather than actively participate, but her presence was there, maybe felt, and if they wanted her, they likely knew how to find her at this point.

The red salarian was relaxed, seated with his back against the street sign with a cigarette between his lips. His eyelids had drooped, still showed the sleep in his eyes if whatever little she could study with the amphibious glare in it. Now that she got a good look at him, he did look a little familiar. The web of scars across his face was certainly unique and he red tinge of his smooth skin was all too reminiscent of old rivals. He glanced over with her arrival though, and gave the best grin he could with it still in his mouth.

"So the recluse reaches out, huh?"

"I remember you. Sorta."

The salarian laughed before offering the pack of cigarettes to her, something she very quickly declined with the wave of her hand. Kinda needed her lungs. Good for cardio and all that. "We were on different parts of the project, I think. But I saw you. Even helped me out a couple of times."

"Did I?"

"Don't tell me you don't remember meeting the STG at some point."

Sure, openly once or twice. Usually in whatever clothes that had convinced the Alliance to allow her near all of the expensive and valuable stuff. "... You don't seem the type. No offense."

He took another drag before shrugging. "I was a medic."

"Then...," she struggled for a second before waving to the cigarette. "… Is that really a, uh, wise choice?”

“Eh. It's that whole cycle thing. I'll just make it up the next life. Your folks have that too right?”

“Sorry?”

“You know,” he waved in some direction, eyes far off to the distance. “Way over there. Where your name comes from?”

“The Japanese?”

“That's the word! Them.”

Why did she think socializing was a good idea? The heritage was a nice cover if anything else, or a set up for a flirty remark or two, but the culture was far removed from her mind, and by the state of the country, most everyone else's. Get the buildings back up first, and maybe then, she wouldn't have to be the only person worried about the cultural side of it. “I'd have no idea,” she said simply. “I'm not from there.”

“Oh.” He flushed slightly, a first for him. Guilt wasn't something that came across his mind often, she thought. “When you came with us, most of us just sorta assumed-- where are you from then? Here?”

“You like telling stories, Sal?”

“Sure.”

She smiled. “Make up a good one for me. We'll see after that.”

He scowled, and to her disappointment, wasn't so easily dissuaded. “No fair. I get that the Consort has her... talents, but--”

“You're gonna stop there.”

“Believe me, we've noticed,” his voice dipped low, mischievous, only sparing her a moment as he put out his cigarette. “You humans always have very tell-tale signs when... the night before was nice.” He grinned and stuck a tongue out. It took far too much self-control for Kasumi not to yank him with it. “How is she? You hear the rumors, but that. Well, I'm sure you know your basic salarian biology.”

“I think you've demonstrated your point well enough.” The voice came from behind her, but Kasumi didn't bother to look back, only tried to hide the satisfaction that came in Sal being caught, and fortunately, the conversation's interruption. Sha'ira weaved between them with grace and a well manner that was near regal in quality-- standing straight, shoulders back, hands folded between her. This was a steely demeanor that wasn't so familiar to her, and that in itself was a welcome treat. “Before anymore rumors start up, perhaps you can explain to the group that my intentions here are and will remain platonic.”

“Uh, Consort...”

“Please.”

He gave a small nod before retreating closer to the circle of tents, rubbing one of his horns in furrowed though. Kasumi sighed, slumping into the spot that was now vacant. “Thank you.”

Sha'ira's smile was thin, expression laden with heavier thoughts than she seemed to be willing to share. “Those rumors are just as damaging for me as they are for you,” she glanced back carefully, possibly to ensure their privacy in the matter before seating herself beside her. “I have had plenty enough with slander to last me, I think.”

She probed. Just a little. “Is that why you want to quit?”

“Among other things.”

“Like what?”

She stayed quiet for a long moment, refusing to meet her eye. It stretched out, tension rising the longer it stayed between them. Just as she had given up on an answer though, Sha'ira's jaw clenched. “Tell me. Have you ever thought of stopping?”

“Once.” There wasn't any sense in lying about it. Whatever consequences that would come from the situation had with Khalisah's blackmail. No details, but the skeleton. The skeleton always worked. “I forgot who I was, so I tried looking elsewhere. … That sorta life's not really for me.” It was boring. She was boring. And empty. The mystique and fun that came with being a thief was all she really knew, if it ever came down to it. Even now, she wouldn't even know where to start in trying to be something else and having it stick.

Sha'ira chuckled dryly. “I suppose in your position, it would be difficult even if you wanted to.”

“Honestly, could you do anything else?”

“I don't know.” Kasumi wasn't expecting the honest answer, but the way she seemed to withdraw as it escaped; she knew it couldn't be any less than the truth. “But I would like to give it a try, at least once. … If we become so wrapped up in what we do, I am not so sure we know who we are without it. Something tells me you already knew that though.”

She did. In other ways, some of it taken from her, other parts just cut away because it was inconvenient. However, she didn't know if this was the same sort of thing. Whatever reputation she gained that could be damaging, well that. That was good for her. It kept people from from following when they felt like it. “... Do we really need to be anything more than what we do?”

“If we weren't, you would be dead, Ms. Goto.”

That had been true enough. Their conversation from the night before was still fresh in her mind, and in a way, she ha been sorta honored by the idea of someone trying to get to know her underneath, but that was a rarely touched part of her, something that she had chosen to give little thought to herself. It was better that way for everyone, had been. Maybe this wasn't something she could answer for-- but lying always worked too.

She could see the way she looked at her always so very often. It should've been patronizing, thoughts and opinions that not long before would've been bitterly fought against. Just that idea that someone could look at her with a knowing, yet gentle gaze. Promise was rarely held in someone that thought they knew their answers already, but the moment Sha'ira spoke, she couldn't discern the truth from the lies. Khalisah would call her a snake, but Kasumi couldn't help seeing opportunity in it. She did always like her games.

She was about to come up with a response, something cool and to keep the banter going, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see the priest shambling up to them, a hollowed expression adorning his face. Well, more despaired than usual. Sha'ira had followed her glance, and with a well-hidden sigh, stood to greet him. “I suppose we'll have to postpone this for later, Ms. Maeda.”

“It wasn't a conversation you wanted anyway.”

She looked back with a well-worn smile, one that did nothing to hide the exhaustion that she knew had been buried since they first touched down to London. It seemed so odd to feel for her in that moment, enough so where she almost had to wonder that the brief flash of honesty had been more for Kasumi's benefit than hers. It vanished quickly though, just as soon as the priest was within earshot. “Priest Darshan, I wasn't expecting a visit from you today. I would've waited closer to camp.”

“Ah...” He glanced Kasumi's way before ducking his eyes and giving a quick bow to both of them. A sign of humility from a priest? Those that she met would've never humbled themselves so quickly. There was a story behind him. She could look into it later maybe, if she could stomach speaking to him again longer than five minutes. “I had other plans today myself, but it seems we have a … a problem.”

“Really?”

He gulped. “Katul has yet to return to camp.”

“What? From last night?”

The priest nodded.

That was odd. That was the turian widow, eh, probably. That wasn't really in his nature, not when they worked together. Usually, he was the last one to come home during the day, and at times, she was long already secluded in her tent by the time he would return, listening to his heavy footsteps against the mud and asphalt as he made a pass around the campsite before finally retreating to his own cot in the dark hours of the early morning. He was one of the first to wake up as well, and usually, far out of sight before Kasumi could even become aware of him. … Well. After they finished the communications tower anyway.

“Are you sure you just didn't miss him or something?” Kasumi spoke up, though she wouldn't stand, not yet.

“He usually checks in with Marin when he comes back. He hasn't yet.” The... pilot maybe? Maybe she should've learned a couple of names before this whole mess started. She could see the taut lines of his frown though, and the way he seemed to fumble with his hands. Sha'ira as well seemed perturbed, but their conversation wasn't too optimistic in itself.

“Have the rest of the group been informed?” Sha'ira asked.

“You two and Sal were the last to be told.”

“Split the group up and search around the campsite. We don't need to assume the worst yet, so please, try to make sure that the rest don't panic in the meantime.” She looked back to Kasumi for just a brief second. “I will search with Ms. Maeda. If you get the chance, ask Marin to take the shuttle to search as well.”

“Yes, ma'am.” And off he went, scurrying back to the circle of tents. They let the silence sink in for a moment before it was finally broke with a long low sigh that escaped Sha'ira.

“Sounds like you're boss now.”

She shrugged, shoulders heavy. “I am not sure this is a better role or worse.”

“No one gets better being boss, believe me. When something goes wrong, they're going to be looking at you.” She'd seen it plenty of times with Shepard, perhaps too many times. All of those expected and hopeful looks given to her, the idea of her just fixing everything without any problems or anything. And here they were, sitting among trash and dirt, and their hero was very dead somewhere in the trash and dirt.

Sha'ira laughed before turning on her heel and offering her hand to Kasumi. “Either way, my actions will always be judged. Perhaps it suits me after all.”

“Bitterness rarely suits you, Consort.”

“That rarely suits anyone, Ms. Goto.” Still, something about it eased both of them, she thought-- just that change in the name. Their earlier conversations were far from being finished, but for now, it was easier to simply set aside. Kasumi had never been one to dig too far in personal wounds anyway, because it invited others to do the same to her, and that, that was never fun. “I'll leave you to finish getting ready. Could you meet me by my tent?”

“Just need to make a call.”

“The turian again?”

She paused. “I was wondering if you heard that. He's a... a good man. Promise.”

“I wouldn't worry,” the smile she gave was quiet, soft around the edges. “I covered because I trust you. Though I believe you are intelligent enough to avoid instigating STG again.”

Sometimes she didn't think so. In any case, she was having second thoughts about having those programs run automatically like that, but the STG was always fun to use, whether as a source of information or a challenge. There weren't many places for her to learn still, not when she rested so far at the top. She kept her thoughts quiet though. Sha'ira had been too much of a gifted horse for her to look it in the mouth for the sake of it. Instead, they parted ways.

Her tent wasn't a bad sight, sure, but her mornings were hers. It was one of the few things that remained from her old introverted habits. As cheesy and corny as it was, the way her morning shaped up could change how the rest of the day went. Her mind, emotions, ideas ready for her, and the time she had for herself to simply... be. As alone as she was in most days, she still needed to act a certain way, be a certain person, or death would be calling her faster than she would have to time to change it. That was mostly her, yes, but to have the morning to be and recognize all of her was something to be cherished.

She didn't have that here. It wasn't unlike having 11 other roommates, or hm, dorm-mates perhaps? Even Sha'ira was more of a stranger than the few friends she had made over the years. A cover for a few months, and that thought made it easier. Still though... it would be nice to have a little more space.

She ducked inside the tent, breathing a heavy sigh, and resisted the urge to fall flat on the cot, as tempting as napping the rest of the morning could be. The QEC was easy to find underneath her pillowcase. It just sucked to make the call at all. If there was someone that could reach out farther than they could, solve this little issue a little faster, then she supposed approaching Khalisah wasn't the worst idea to have. Disguise it as a friendly warning and perhaps, she wouldn't try to use it against her. That would be nice.

Khalisah answered faster than she thought. Her demeanor was relaxed, but occupied with a pensive frown. It didn't surprise her to see that she was already primed and dressed like any other time they had met. She stayed professional at least. “Morning,” Kasumi greeted with a sideways smile.

“I didn't think you'd miss me so fast, Ms. Goto. I could spare five minutes to insult you.”

“Are you doing anything other than sitting on your ass all day and looking at that camera?”

“If you had my spot, you wouldn't move either. Spying is always better in style.” That she would have to agree with, but still Kasumi stuffed down her snort. She wasn't about to give Khalisah the satisfaction of it, not yet. “So seeing as there isn't a bullet hole in your head, I can guess the rest of yesterday went fine?”

“Excluding the whole blackmail business? Sure.” She waved it off. Deflection was a manner that was habitual for her. “Not why I'm calling though.”

“I'm sure it's important.”

“One of our group has gone missing.”

“So the idiot got lost.”

“It could be a tad more complicated. If it is, I thought you'd might like the heads up. Just in case they notice a particularly bitchy journalist hanging around.” Humor. Always a good tool to keep people from thinking too much about it. She was smart enough to know that it was more than the warning for her call, but the warning painted the real question a little better. As laughably false it really was.

“The backhanded insults really show you care, you know.”

“I try.”

“And?”

She sighed. “The camera might be a little useful.”

“I'm surprised you don't have something similar already.”

“Confiscated, remember? You recorded the whole damn thing.”

“... I suppose I can keep a look out.” Oh finally. She was a little surprised by how easily Khalisah caved in to the request, but there was a heart in there somewhere, she guessed. It was just going to take a little digging to find. “You think he reached this far?”

“I have no idea, but you know, just in case.”

Khalisah sighed, and massaged a temple before abruptly switching the QEC off. Whether it was to do what she wanted hadn't mattered too much, she guessed, but the gesture had been made. It still... it wasn't like the turian widow. It wasn't like they talked every day, but something kept him chained to their group, and there was the debt they all shared. If something had happened to him... now that would make the trip interesting, but nowhere near what she wanted for it. Murder investigations were more like Omega's deal, and there wasn't much use, killing some worker out in the middle of nowhere like this.

The sky was clearing up too. The sun would greet them later in the day, and perhaps with luck, an easier way to spot those dark plates among the rubble. She hoped for the voice that would return their greetings.

---

“You forgot who you were once?”

She kept an eye on the ring of clouds above them, white and fluffy-- as if the earlier dreariness never existed in the first place. The concrete had a wet, dew smell stuck to it, leaving darkened stains against the brick. She caught Sha'ira stumbling once or twice through their walking, unused to the changes in elevation through their path. If she looked hard enough, she could argue easily that those flats were hardly appropriate for a trip like this, but there was something to admire about her adamant professionalism. It's not like she could say anything though. Traversing difficult ground was just as natural as walking by itself. She would slip through the shadows, no matter how high or low, no matter how comfortable it could or would be.

The sun was harsher than she remembered. Each one felt different depending on the system, but Earth's sun seemed so harsh. Perhaps she was just a little sensitive to it. Working in the mines had always been rough with little water for comfort, but it was so worse when she was working outside. She had passed out once, back when she was... 11 years? 12? It was hard to say. Had some kind of fever too. Someone had prayed for her, poured water. The voice was heavy and gruff like a batarian's, but not green boots. Kasumi wondered who that was.

“Ms. Goto?”

“Once, yeah.”

“Are you worried?”

She wasn't sure if she wanted to answer at first. It was easy to shrug things off if Kasumi thought of better things, like the weather, and the way there were blades of grass growing between blocks. Life was easier to see in the small corners. “A little,” she admitted. “It doesn't seem right.”

“Out of everyone I thought that would do this, he was on the bottom of the list,” she hummed in thought before another misstep. She barely caught herself that time.

“And me at the top?”

“Nora.”

“Uh?”

She chuckled. “The drell. You should make a habit of learning their names, you know. It'll give you less trouble.” The smile she passed over to her was sweet, and made her seem younger than she really was. Maybe both of them in a way. “She has a certain... eeriness to her. I trust your self-control. I'm not sure I trust hers.”

“So she's offered you a bird?”

Sha'ira blanched. “Every morning... where is she getting those?”

She shrugged. “I imagine she was in ops back during the war. They're all a little weird like that.” Those from the Terminus Systems anyway. They all developed little habits that helped them survive their careers, and if not, they were dead long before Kasumi could ever be aware of them. And she always kept an eye for that sort of thing, see who could compete with her, who could become an issue. Not much trouble since Quarn though.

“So do you put yourself in that category?”

“Might as well. I might get less approval, but it's all the same in principal.”

“I imagine it'd be nice to get the government funding though.”

“You find investors.”

“With someone at your rank, I'm surprised you would need one.”

She studied her. “Oh, so you're looking for the person behind this? You're in for a disappointment: I'm single.” Good deflection, one to make things awkward if pursued. Kiera wasn't a fun topic, not something she wanted to talk about on a clear day like this, or to focus on finding their missing member. Thinking about it only brought anger, and questions about why she was really on Earth in the first place.

“Quite a shame.”

“What makes you say that?”

Sha'ira looked away, quickly and quietly. “When you have to hide so much of yourself every day, it can help to have someone you can be honest with.”

“You don't exactly either, you know.”

She laughed quietly. “That's true. But when you forgot who you were, do you think you were more honest or less?”

“Dunno.” There was less pressure there to seem bigger than who she was, but in a way, it was just another role that she had to play with. An escaped slave, or someone that seemed a tad more normal, put together than she really was. The pavement crunched under the sole of her shoes as the path sloped upward, a reaper-made hill in the middle of the small neighborhood street. The buildings were more intact than she thought they would be around here, only hollowed out by the wear and tear of war. She hadn't gone past the crest of the hill yet, but she had focused on repairing the communications tower for most of the week. It would be nice to explore a little, but another day, when there wasn't much else to think about. “I did bartend for a while,” she admitted after a moment.

“I bet you'd be a great one.”

“I hated it honestly.” Well, only a little. “I don't think I could ever do what you're doing. Just listening to customers there drove me nuts.” Now small parties? That was different. When she was with Shepard, that was easy, because if anything else, Shepard was easy. Give her a few ryncols, and she was just happy as a clam. Just needed to tell a few stories in between was all.

“Oh, I think you could do better than you know.” She raised a brow with a small, almost cheeky smile. “Silence can speak better than any word. Just need the right mood.”

“I usually stumble on those. If I'm not trying to get what I want anyway.”

“You have far less chances than I do, I suppose.”

There wasn't much point behind it. It was easier to observe and let people talk for her, but... she got it in a way. Someone was going to react differently in a high-class party than they would be meeting in a back-end alley within the depths of Omega. She looked for people in different places for different sorts of information. But to involve herself personally in the conversation meant giving information that she wasn't willing to let go. Lying helped with that certainly, but she never found a verbal game as helpful as just sitting and waiting. Someone else almost always saved her the trouble.

Now this was... Verbal sparring was a bit too serious of a phrase, as if she was looking to win a game-- though she sorta was with Khalisah, but Sha'ira had been different. Not quite socializing, but something close to it. The idea of a friendship wasn't undesirable, but there was a slow-moving waltz between them between the little gives and deflections. She just wasn't sure who was leading. Though sometimes, and only sometimes, it wasn't so bad just swaying along with the rhythm.

Over the hill wasn't so different from the blocks that they had wandered through before, except Kasumi could at least note that it seemed more put together than the other streets. A reaper corpse blocked the street from across, nearly completely demolishing the buildings that served as its bed. While the left building was impossible to slip inside, the right... there was something oddly colorful about it, over by an outstretched claw.

“What is that?”

Sha'ira squinted for a moment. “I admit, I haven't been this far out myself. … Who knows? Maybe he'll be over there.”

She laughed. “I don't think we need an excuse for it, sweet as it is.” Anything colorful that stood out in a city like this was well worth checking out. And truly there was a marvelous series of colors against the walls, reds, blues, oranges, yellows. She wasn't so idealistic as to think that some street art survived this whole mess, but still maybe something intimate-- something to remind her that life was there. In that sense, Kasumi couldn't help how her pace quickened to the sight, to so quickly want to see something that was familiar to her, more akin to her nature.

What awaited them was so much more intimate than she expected. The lines of colors were names, dates that followed one another. The first, at the top of the wall was from an Alliance soldier, sergeant, dated two weeks after the reapers touched down London, and then it followed afterward of different names, different races of not just humans, but every sort in the galaxy. She traced a delicate finger against the lettering as it went down the wall, mouthing each new name that she copied. A sign of life here-- just as she had been hoping for, but not just life, but their survival through the impossible. Was it a checkpoint for others? Just a small thought left behind to let people know they weren't alone? The latter seemed likely as the names continued past the actual war.

A name stopped her, about midway through. Nobuo Kurosawa. It didn't seem likely, but there it was, sometime back in February. Ah, for another day perhaps. She felt the eyes watching her, and could imagine the easy, slow content look that would spread on Sha'ira's face.

“Find something you like?”

She stood, brushing off her pants. She could still smell the chalk, and just that small simple reminder could almost make her forget what surrounded it, and what she was actually doing out there. “If only I could take it with me, but no... it should stay here.”

“So the rumors didn't exaggerate your sentimentality with art.” She stepped up beside her, arms behind her back with a pleased look in her eyes. “I'm a little relieved to know this.”

If she had the dignity, she probably would've blushed. Probably. Instead, she grinned. “Do you mind taking a picture with it? Ah... Souvenir.”

She laughed before standing by the edge of the graffiti wall. “You don't need to make excuses, Ms. Goto. I'm honored.” Almost immediately she straightened into the image of professionalism with her hands folded in front of her and a thin stoic smile replaced the earlier teasing. She took a few steps back, making sure that all of the names were in frame but still legible, while Sha'ira was still visible in it too. She was dressed plainly for today, but that in itself was fitting for the image. She couldn't ask for it any other way, though even as the photo was finished, it was easy to say that there was just a way that Sha'ira carried herself that made it apparent that she was... different. Perhaps she stood a little straighter, or the way she looked in the camera. When it came down to it, there were parts of themselves they could never fully hush away.

Her hips swayed just slightly as she walked over, the smile returned in full force. “I suppose it would be too much to return the favor later?”

“Maybe not. You'll have to charm me a little first~”

She laughed breathlessly, eyes wide. “That's quite the challenge, but... I think I could manage it. I know it'll be worth it.”

“All this over a photo? I'm impressed.”

“And how many of those exists, hm?”

“Blackmail seems unlike you.” Static filled her ear, and Kasumi quickly held a finger up to her before pressing against the earpiece. She could make a few good guesses on who it was. “Tell me it's good news.”

“I don't know about good.” Khalisah. Immediately, she glanced up to see if she could spot the camera. “But I found someone.”

“Turian?”

“Yeah. She's not moving any.”

Her brow furrowed briefly. “She?”

“Oh, well. Have another surprise, I guess. Look up?”

She spotted it, maybe about five or so blocks away. It hovered there aimlessly circling one particular area behind the crushed building. “How the hell did they get over there?”

“I'm sure you can figure it out, but if you don't mind--” There was a brief pause, then a shudder, one that she could tell the journalist was doing her best to hide. Oh, so there was a weakness in there, somewhere. “... This... This is not really my thing.” If she wasn't moving, Kasumi could guess easily what she was referring to. It wasn't good news, and it wasn't their guy, but she wasn't bad enough to just leave someone lying there. Who knows. Maybe one of their group members got trapped hunting for the other missing guy. It wasn't impossible, though she hoped the crushed building in front of them wasn't a precursor to more that surrounded the place. There were a few old skyscrapers that she thought would be impossible to rebuild in this mess.

She turned off the mic and looked back to Sha'ira, who had waited patiently during the exchange, the earlier light mood gone. She looked heavy, unmasked and showing troubles that likely awaited both of them for whatever was in store. “A friend of yours?”

“Something like that.”

“They found something then?”

With a sigh, Kasumi began to lead both of them. Too much like business, and she had been hoping to get away from that for a while. This on its own made it difficult to leave the graffiti wall, as if saying farewell to a good, old friend. At least she could hold onto the reminder that the small signs like those were what made the trip so worth it. She couldn't blame gems being left behind, but the personal touches and stories-- those were the ones that needed to be kept and cherished. Not stupidity. Not being lost in a goddamn city and having the entire group go looking for you.

They rounded the corner of the crushed building, shimmying between a decrepit alley and the head of the reaper. As cold as the metal about it had been, just being near those things stung, and reminded her of old voices and recordings, and how even a dead god could still change the mind so gradually, so unassumingly that no one would notice until it was far too late to do anything about it. She hated those things, and perhaps she would for the rest of her life.

Once they reached the tip of the reaper, the buildings hollowed out, only leaving shambles of concrete for them to stumble over. It reminded her more of junkyard piles she'd see on old Earth vids sometimes with the way it seemed so haphazardly put together, but buried in the slabs, there might be a treasure in there. Certainly damaged by the disuse, but she wasn't unfamiliar with restoration-- a skill she had picked up through the early years of her career. Art wasn't always with responsible owners, and more often than it should, she spent time grieving for a masterpiece that was beyond saving. That was the true need for investors. Where her arm ended, another could reach out and take up where she left off.

“You seem tense.” Sha'ira's voice was distant, but after a good mental shake, she steeled herself.

“Just wondering why they came over here.”

“... It would be a dangerous place for someone accident-prone. Perhaps that was their train of thought.”

No. She still didn't like it. This was a trap waiting to happen, but no one had seemed like the type from their group. Kasumi wasn't stupid, and neither was Sha'ira. If she hadn't done some kind of background check before joining this thing, the consort sure as hell would've. A lot of them were weird, a little creepy, but not the randomly mass kill-y sort of way. So that left someone stupid to get themselves hurt and the salarian seemed like the only one dumb enough for that.

The silence was suffocating, but that could've been more smoke somewhere, making London a permanent home for its stench. She hated fire. It was a niggling stupid thing to latch onto, but god it drove her nuts to see how other people-- the vorcha mercenaries in particular!-- seem to think it was the best solution to their problems. Fire was stubborn, nigh uncontrollable, and engulfed anything and everything. Not suitable for a delicate job like being a thief-- explosives included. Sure, there was a personal bitterness involved in it, but just, ugh.

Eventually they made it past the large clearing to a small row of more rectangular buildings (housing projects maybe, old ones; far too outdated), and she noted, just barely, a red light stretching from one end of the alleyway to the other. She slowed to a stop, scowl forming on her face. Sha'ira hadn't. She couldn't blame her. It was very close to the ground, designed as some sort of trip wire.

It was done without thinking. Just a step too close in those fine heels, and she heard the clicking of a proximity mine. She didn't say anything, just lunged forward and yanked Sha'ira's dress sleeve. She saw just enough of Sha'ira being thrown against the concrete behind her before the beeping stopped, and her vision had been filled with dirt. It was enough to blow her back hard against another discarded slab. There was a sharp pain, not unfamiliar in the back of her head and chest with all she could smell and taste was just dirt and metal and smoke. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear the calling, heels digging into the upturned soil.

Sha'ira cradled her face, but the crying of her name was too far away to reach her.

–

“So was it from some Robin Hood deed?”

She wasn't a hero. “Hardly.”

“Oh. I like those stories.” Shepard studied the ceiling above her, one that likely seemed a little unfamiliar to her too. “It reminds me that you hate titles sometimes too.”

“You like it when I seem bigger than I am.”

“So what happened?”

Chotha happened. He was an icy color with this strong, calculating look in his eyes. It was one of the first times she ever acted like someone she wasn't to get what she wanted. Be the friendliest bunch and the contacts and intel would naturally follow, or so she was told. It wasn't wrong, true, in that by the time she was caught, his organization had been more hers than his, but that too, like now, had been a collection of mistakes catching up to her. Show a little mercy and it always bit her in the ass somehow.

At least it had been easy to see it coming. As soon as she answered the dinner invitation and walked in, saw that turian sitting all chummy with him at the table, she knew she had been caught. It had been one of her favorite restaurants in Illium too, a swanky ritzy place that never asked too many questions and kept their head down. It maintained a very nice power structure that too often Kasumi wasn't on the top. Decadent with an emphasis on white décor and flora that was reminiscent of her few trips to Thessia, it had been cold comfort during the year she spent under Chotha's heel.

Out of the things she regretted inadvertently destroying, that was probably on the top, next to the prizes she had been forced to let go to survive. As soon as she sat down, the guns and the commandos came down. No one wanted to be alone in that sort of situation, not with all the guns pointing at them and just them.

Blowing the gas tank wasn't a bad idea, not when she had about five shots in her side already, and goddamnit if she was going to die so was it going to be that cloaca bastard. It was not accounting about the five other tanks that had been near it. And then, it wasn't so different-- that ringing in her ears and the sound of someone screaming, but there too came the intensity and the heat of the worst sun she could imagine. How it took so long to realize the screaming wasn't just them, but her too, and how even as the fire died down, everything was far too bright to see.

And of course, Chotha was still alive. Barely, but she had been told that he had managed to drag himself to safe company after the explosion hit both of them. And her eyes looked a little different now. And how that was how Kiera and Keiji met.

She followed Shepard's gaze to one specific spot in the ceiling, the drunken, dizzy smile waning to a taut grimace. “... I was stupid.”

#kiwi crossposts #mass effect #fanfiction #multichapter fics #kasumi goto

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