Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

Ta'jara Solistari continued her meditation exercises while the Salarian attendant, Givik she thought her name was, spouted off more words of encouragement, more platitudes. To her, all the talking was more distracting than helpful. Did Salarian females require all the chatter to deliver a child? She certainly did not.

Sitting beside her was Aleira her bond mate, also quietly reciting a meditation exercise to help in the birth. She, like Ta'jara, had pale blue complexion and the typical build of Asari: a little over a meter and a half in height, athletic build, and aesthetically pleasing appearance, with curving scalp crests instead of hair. Where they differed, Aleira had the more attractive facial markings above the eyes, slightly darker lines that enhanced her already striking visage.

Ta’jara’s meditations stopped as she pondered this thought. She hadn't chosen Aleira for her mate because of any real attraction. She needed another Asari to bond with, to be the father of her child and Aleira was more than willing to oblige. But now that the moment was nearly here, had something changed?

No. There was no going back, her plan and purpose were too important. There was too much at stake to risk letting attraction or anything else get in her way. The path she laid out for herself would be difficult and she would travel it alone.

Another rush of pain accompanied her contractions and ripped her from her thoughts. She redoubled her mediation exercises while adding a quick prayer to the goddess that the Salarian would silence herself.

As the contractions faded momentarily Ta'jara took a few seconds to scan the room again.

She, Aleira and Givik were the only ones in the room a five meter squared delivery chamber within a small rural farming colony's clinic on an unimportant world. Aleira had objected to remaining here for the birth, preferring their first child to be born on Thessia, the Asari home world.

First child? This sparked another random thought in her mind. Aleira had once planned for a large family. Such a thing was impossible. One pure-blood Asari child could be tolerated, but two or three would cause too much grief. It wasn't outlawed to produce a child with another Asari, but it certainly wasn't embraced. No, one child would be all that Aleira ever contributed.

The room, though small, contained all the standard accoutrements needed on a back water world to facilitate any manner of injuries or medical treatments. Considering the community, it was quite well stocked and probably had more than one medical practitioner, though at this late hour only the one Salarian was with them. A fortuitous choice for this rare birth, she thought.

"You're almost there. One more big push. You'll be a mother shortly,” Givik said.

Bracing herself she gathered her strength and will and, still meditating did as the Salarian told her. Within moments she could hear the whimpering of a new life, as her child was brought into the world.

"Goddess, what is that?" Aleira said, clearly shocked.

The Salarian stood baffled for a few quick heartbeats, the new life held in her arms. Quickly she turned away and put the child on a small table a few steps away and began to clean the baby up. Aleira stood and moved over to the small squirming form.

Aleira was visibly confused and shaken. She stared at the child on the table but didn't move to embrace it. What she saw on the table made her stand rigid as stone, mouth slightly agape.

"Ta'jara, I don't understand. This, this thing isn't. I mean..." Aleira began stammering through half-finished sentences.

Ta'jara looked over at the table; saw the little hands and feet squirming. It was exactly as she had expected. The tomes she'd found and scrolls she'd read had prepared her for what would happen, what her child would look like. Aleira was not privy to any of this though.

Givik moved over to her on the bed, a look of worry etched on his features. Ta'jara watched as she halfheartedly fluffed her pillows while glancing towards the door. It was clear he was anxious to leave. She couldn't allow that.

Shifting in her bed, Ta'jara produced a small pistol, placed it under the Givik's jaw, and fired. The simultaneous discharge of energy, and the repulsive sound of gray matter splattering the low ceiling jarred Aleira out of her shock.

Quickly Ta'jara stood. A little too quickly. The exercises had protected her from much of the difficulties of labor, but they soon returned washing over her once she began to move. Dizziness hit her like a punch to the gut and she stumbled. Catching the table nearby she righted herself.

As she stood, she looked at Aleira who was already moving to help her, raised the pistol and with another discharge of energy sent her bond mate crashing to the floor with a horrid wound to the stomach.

Ta'jara blinked; she was weaker than she thought. She'd meant to end it quickly, as she had with the Salarian. On the floor before her, Aleira whimpered in obvious pain.

"Taji," she gasped, using her pet name that Ta'jara loathed, "what did I do?"

Ta'jara moved over to her bond mate and no longer saw the father of her child. Looking down she saw only a poor Asari maiden huddled on the floor, crying away her last moments, trying to understand what was happening.

"You did everything perfectly" Ta'jara said. Leveling the pistol she fired again, hitting her mark and ending Aleira's life instantly.

Ta'jara moved over to the table with her child now lying still, calmly asleep. Reaching out she placed her hand against the needle-like protrusions that had replaced the typical scalp crests of other Asari. Instead of skin ranging from greens to purples, an almost chitin-like black reflective skin covered her child's body.

“My child,” she whispered to no one.

An Asari of its like had not been seen in over two thousand generations. Taking the resting baby in her arms and walking over to her pack, Ta'jara took out a small round object with a timer built into it. Setting the inferno grenade she'd brought with her to detonate not long after she left the planet, she took another uncaring glance around the room.

Moving over to Aleira's body she impulsively removed a small ring her bond mate wore on her thumb, the only jewelry she owned. Looking at the white metallic object brought about a slight twinge of regret at what had happened.

“Thank you,” Ta'jara said, quietly curling her fingers around the ring.

With that she stood and walked out into the night, her child fidgeting slightly in her arms.

ONE

Sliding across the wall in the darkened corridor of Long Term Care he stopped before a nondescript door. White like all the others, small keypad set to the left, above it a placard reading “Kaine, Lillian T.” Behind the door he could clearly hear a vid playing, the sounds of laughter sifting towards him.

With a quick swipe of a keycard he'd removed from a nurse that was currently sleeping off a nasty bruise in a janitor’s closet, the door unlocked. It slid open silently and he stepped in. As the door closed he let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit room and observed a place he hadn't been in months.

It was small about five meters square, sparsely decorated with a bed and a visitor’s chair. A large window, shades drawn, dominated the wall behind the bed. An end table sat to the right of the bed, opposite the chair. On it was a lone picture of four people. He recognized them as himself, his parents, and his sister who lay in the bed.

“Lily,” he whispered.

She didn't respond her simple face drawn to the vidscreen in the corner to his right. She was thoroughly enjoying whatever was on. Her dark eyes shown in the reflection of the viewer and a wide grin played at the edges of her mouth. She was probably watching another outrageous sitcom as they were her favorite.

His sister lay in the bed, arms over the blankets that covered her up to the neck. Her hair was cut shorter than the last time he'd visited but looked nice. Whoever trimmed it took care with her.

He was about to whisper again when a skycar flashed by the window, red and blue lights buzzing on top. Police. Whether civilian or military he couldn't say. He wasn't surprised by this, if he were tailing an escaped prisoner he'd check on living relatives.

Not much time left he thought.

Again he was about to speak when something happened on the vid and his sister laughed. A hearty, girlish squeal. He watched her quake with joy for a few more moments. Arms that didn't work right squirmed minutely and hands that were curled in on themselves twitched with delight. Her eyes simply sparkling as she continued to laugh.

He paused then. She was there but he so rarely saw her in such a state of joy. If he did talk to her, what would he tell her? He had to go? That was a given but she would want to know when he'd come back. He had no idea of that answer. She would be instantly sad and in the ultimately it would change nothing. Whether he told her or not the conversation ended the same way: he had to go.

Another round of boisterous giggles form his sister made up his mind.

Quietly he slid back through the door and watched it shut. He listened for another pair of heartbeats at the giggles and laughter.

Then fled.

Ethan Kaine stopped mid-sentence, his cigarette held between index and middle finger just before his mouth. An old memory flashing into his mind. It was completely random, his thoughts were nowhere near Earth, or hospitals and certainly not his sister. The intense feeling of being chased by the police lingered after the memory faded. He knew that feeling, being watched, being followed. Being hunted.

Was someone watching him now?

Kaine stood and nonchalantly surveyed the area. At just over two meters in height, he had a good look at the bar its customers. He was wearing a dark close fitted shirt, brown pants with cargo pockets on the thighs and a thin dark jacket that did little to hide the strong athletic build beneath. His short dark hair and close cropped matching beard complimented his dark skin.

He was occupying the left most of three tables set inside an alcove along the northern wall, directly across from the main entrance of Chora’s Den, an entertainment establishment that specialized in exotic dancers and alcohol. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary: bartenders serving drinks at the massive circular bar that sits in the center, a few dancers, and waitresses tending to the needs of various patrons, and the bouncers on duty scanning the area.

Amongst the clientele he noticed a scattered mix of human, but more were Salarian and Turian, some of those being off duty C-Sec officers, most just visitors to the Citadel. Each was either enjoying drinks or the view of the Asari dancers, while a lone Quarian sat nursing a glass of what he assumed was liquor, at a table along the wall to his right.

He watched as a large Krogan, the tall and stocky lizard-like monsters that sold themselves as hired thugs and mercenaries, exit the bar in an angry fashion. Granted of the decidedly few Krogan he had ever had the misfortune to meet, if they did anything it was always in an angry fashion.

Kaine heard his companion politely clear her throat.

“Ever feel like you’re being watched?” Kaine asked. “Like someone was just staring at you?”

Looking down he watched her smooth the sheer and form hugging black dress she wore. Its dark color and plunging neckline perfectly accentuated her teal complexion and pleasing build. She took a sip of a fluorescent green drink, her matching green eyes watching him.

“No Kaine, not once ever,” she said, setting her drink on the table.

Kaine returned to his seat with a derisive snort at her comment. Taking the cigarette in his fingers again he brought it to his lips and took a long drag. Feeling the smoke enter his lungs, he held it then blew it out carefully to send the smoke away from her.

"I'm sorry, where was I?" he said, casually setting his cigarette into the ashtray again and taking a sip from his tall glass of water.

"You were going to tell me something about Athame, a connection between Asari and humans?" she replied with her silky voice leaning forward, resting an elbow on the table and her check in her upturned palm.

"Yes Athame," he said coming quickly back to his train of thought, "the one who taught your people mathematics, sciences, and was very much revered for a time."

"Not many humans know anything about Asari culture, especially our dead religions," she commented.

"I have a lot of free time, plus there is an inordinate amount of information on the extranet about Asari," he said, picking up his cigarette again. "Sections on your history and society, diplomatic skills, biotics of course, and whole libraries of vids on your," he paused dramatically "interpersonal skills."

"I bet you enjoyed those the most," she said leaning back.

"Purely for educational purposes I assure you." He took a drag from his cigarette.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at him, a keen look in her eye, the sort of look you give when you’ve finally caught on to someone’s schemes.

"I bet." She replied with a knowing smirk.

"Such distrust,” he said, wounded. “But I'm more interested in talking about how your treatment of Athame is the same as humanity's treatment of our religions.”

This got her attention; he could read it on her face. Over the past the past weeks conversations like this had elicited the best responses from her. Finding similarities between Asari and human culture was easier than he’d let on.

"See there was once a flourishing religion around Athame. Not just her but the importance of her teachings as well. Then space travel and greater advances in science became more prevalent. Since then, your people don't spend a lot of time in formal worship of her, yet you'll still call out 'by the Goddess' ," he used his fingers to demonstrate the quotes, a tactic he knew annoyed her but in the right sort of way, "when shocked, startled or other more intimate situations arise."

"And?" she said, when he didn't continue.

"We humans have a thousand different religions and a bunch of different terms for deities, but the one that comes up the most is God," he said then added quickly, "capitol 'G' by the way." He put down his cigarette. "Like the Asari, once science and space travel became more common, the official worship of God or whatever other religions called Him, capital H, became as scarce as your worship of Athame."

"And?" she said it again a little slower, forcing her to make him continue.

"Like Asari, humans will call out to our old religions too when we're scared or in danger or," he raised an eyebrow and smirked "in an intimate situation." He paused again looking her in the eyes then belted out, "Oh God!" He banged his hand on the table. "Oh yes, yes, YES!"

Siru burst out a laugh and brought one hand to her face to hide it while she continued to giggle. Slowly shaking her head side to side she composed herself and said, "That wasn't that funny, had to be the alcohol."

"That's not nice," he replied with a smile, taking another sip of his water then added, “Isn’t that non-alcoholic?”

Siru smirked.

Kaine smirked back.

Otmar'Reefa nar Zeela sat alone at a table along the eastern wall of the bar. Absently he plucked at a stray piece of twine that held a fresh patch on his enviro-suit. Like other Quarians, his weak immune system caused him to wear a protective suit so he wouldn't catch some minor ailment that would end up killing him.

At one time, his suit was dark purple with white highlights. His mother had helped him craft it and he was very proud of it. The two of them had spent weeks together on the designs. That was years ago. Now the purple had faded and the highlights were all but gone. Patched and repatched over and over, his suit looked second hand at best. All the damage he'd taken over the years trying to complete his Pilgrimage had taken quite a toll on it.

He’d been on the Citadel for nearly a month trying desperately to complete that Pilgrimage, a terrible journey out amongst the various other species of the galaxy in search of some type of technology, or skill, or other important item. If he could do this, he'd be able to prove to his people that he wouldn't be a burden and would be welcomed home. So far he'd come up empty handed, as he had in every other major city center he’d visited.

At one time he'd thought the Pilgrimage to be something of an honor and an incredibly important part of Quarian society. It was always touted as the key to keeping his people safe from over population, technological stagnation, and dozens of other terrible things that happen to an entire culture that resides entirely on starships. When he started out he’d felt a sense of wonder, excitement, and was filled with a pioneering spirit to explore and discover.

Not so much now.

He'd left the Flotilla almost five years ago. His Pilgrimage had taken a lot longer than he'd thought it would and now it felt more of a prison sentence, albeit a forced exile rather than time spent in a cell, than any kind of honorable journey. Now all he wanted to do was go home.

He thought about the Migrant Fleet again. He'd done so a lot over the last few days, ever since the Asari Councilor contacted him with a deal that could send him back home. Home he thought, not the most lavish of places, but the only one in the entire galaxy where he was welcome.

On the Flotilla he wasn’t viewed as a thief or a vagrant. He wasn't someone to be watched or harassed. He was just another Quarian, living a peaceful life on one of the fifty thousand ships that made up their fleet, those same ships that housed, fed, and protected nearly seventeen million of his people. Ever since they were driven from Rannoch, their home world, by their artificial creations, the Geth, it was all his people had known. That incident, losing their home-system and more, had happened over three hundred years ago.

Otmar scanned the bar again, as he’d done every day for a week, looking for a hired gun to give him some protection on this venture. He’d approached a Turian who laughed at him, a Krogan that almost killed him, an Asari that thought he was propositioning her, and even a Salarian in his desperation. It hadn’t worked out so far.

But maybe a human, the newest race to join the Citadel Conventions, could do what he required. He would need more information though. Otmar had already discovered a few clues by merely watching him: physically fit above the norm for his species, kept watch on the door, and more telling, carried a concealed weapon. None of this was solid proof that he would be for hire, but it was a start.

Otmar slowly turned his lukewarm glass of some random fruit juice around absently in its glass as he pondered his next course of action. He’d spent so much time failing at convincing anyone from the other races to help him that if he couldn’t get someone's aid soon he’d have to leave on his own. His contact would be on Omega in a couple days. Time was growing short.

He took his hand off the glass and sat back just as his view of the human was obstructed by a server, an average looking Asari with dark purple skin and dark lines over her eyes. Even though she worked here and was required to be personable, Otmar felt she was the only person on the Citadel who was genuinely nice to him. Unfortunately he couldn’t remember her name.

“Hey Otmar, want me to refresh that for you,” she said warmly.

“Oh...” he began desperately attempting to recall the female’s name.

Amana. The word appeared across the inside of his visor then faded away.

“Oh yes,” he began again. “Thank you Amana”.

“You know,” she said as she picked up his glass and stepped to one side revealing the human again, “Siru is almost done, if you’d like I could see if she has room for another client?”

Otmar blinked, mildly confused. He looked up at her and noticed she was smiling. Was she making fun of him? It wouldn’t be the first time another species had used a Quarian as a punch line.

“Oh,” he began yet again. “No that’s okay, I hadn’t even noticed her sitting there.” He smiled up at her then felt foolish. She couldn’t see it of course, not with his face covered by his helmet and visor. He just looked back over at the table instead.

“I see, well some friendly advice,” she said leaning down next to him. “I don’t think Kaine enjoys the company of males that way, even if they are adorable.” She hurried away to another patron.

Otmar only vaguely heard what she said after the name Kaine. He had something to go on, he could look up this human’s history and find out what skills he possessed. Sure it was an invasion of privacy but he needed help. He sorely did.

“Wait,” he said out loud to no one. “That’s not what...” he looked to see his server on the other side of the room talking to another customer. Otmar slouched in his chair and sighed dejectedly.

“Keelah Otmar,” he said quietly and set about searching the human's name.

"You ever going to tell me about those?" Siru said motioning towards Kaine's hands.

"Oh these," he said looking down at the tattoos that encircled both his left and right wrists."Nothing of consequence, just something foolish I got before entering the service."

"Citadel Security you mean?"

"Yeah," Kaine replied quickly, maybe too quickly. Taking a breath he smirked to hide the thought and added, "Just some bravado. You know how males are."

"I have some basic knowledge, yes," she said, and then added with a smirk of her own, "educational of course."

"What other kind is there?" He asked, her taking a sip of his water.

“Don't ignore the question," Siru said. "I want to know about the tattoos."

“What was it I said the last time you asked?” He asked her in reply.

“You played coy and said ‘ask me again sometime’,” she said making quotes with her fingers.

She stopped suddenly. Looking at her hands she dropped them to her lap and looked back up at him.He could see she was trying to hide a smile and she failed as she spoke.

“Shut up,” she said with a smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of saying anything,” he replied with smile. “Anyway, lets stick with that answer a little longer.”

“Playing coy again?”

"I'm full of mystery.”

“You’re full of something,” she said with a wide grin.

In response Kaine raised his glass in salute and drained it of its liquid. Setting it down he tapped the ashes off his cigarette and with a long drag finished it off. He ground it out in the tray and absently spun his lighter.

The two of them sat there, neither speaking. Kaine was lost in thought. It was in moments like this he usually felt the need to speak, to fill the silence with words. But with Siru he never felt that way, she was just comfortable to be around, always keeping him at ease.

Of course that could be nothing more than her doing her job. After all, she was a consort, something of an amateur counselor. People paid her to listen and sometimes give advice but mostly just to make them feel good for a few minutes out of the day. And it was something she was very good at.

“Kaine,” Siru began, "what do you want from me?"

He stopped spinning his lighter and looked up at her. Usually he'd see amusement or annoyance from his antics and stories but now there was something else. Nervousness perhaps. It was a look he hadn't seen on her.

“You've been coming here for weeks now and I can't figure out why," she continued, looking down at her hands in her lap, a strangely self-conscious act for her. "Usually my clients are looking for a sympathetic audience or advice on a variety of subjects, or even someone to confess to.”

"Not you," she added, looking up and leaning toward him. "What are you looking for here?"

Interesting question, he thought. What was he looking for? Siru was gorgeous by just about any definition of the word but that was only a part of it. He truly enjoyed being around her just talking. She was charming and witty, ready to listen and comment as though she were always interested in the conversation. He felt even though this was her chosen profession that when he was here, it wasn't just work for her. There was something else.

Was there really? What if he was just making things up in his head? He'd been on his own a long time now. It wasn't desperation, Kaine wasn't in need of companionship that badly. But this Asari, this woman always made him feel wonderful. Each time she sat down at his table he felt butterflies in his stomach. As childish as it might seem, just the thought of her brightened his day.

He could figure that all out later, simply put: what he wanted was her and the whys and what-fors could wait. But you don't say that sort of thing now, too soon. Much too soon. Instead he'd do what he did all too well when dealing with something like this: evade.

"Actually Siru," he began, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Excuse me?" she with a half-smile and short laugh.

"It’s not often an Asari Matron spends her time at a place like this," he answered her evenly, grinding his cigarette out. He watched the cinders still smoldering in the ashes left behind for a moment then looked up at her.

Siru was looking back at him with unchecked astonishment on her face. He himself wasn't surprised at all. He’d always been good at reading people, even those of other species. Some were more difficult than others, Quarians were obviously a pain in the ass. But he had a natural talent for it. In another time, it allowed him to lead soldiers very effectively.

"You do spend a lot of time on the extranet studying Asari don't you?" she said.

"Educational purposes," he assured her.

"Still, that may be true, but how did you figure that out?" she looked down at herself then back at him. "I don't look old do I?"

"No," he said with a wide smile and leaned back in his chair. Kaine took a look around for a moment searching for something. When he found what he’d been looking for he leaned towards Siru and said, "Look over at that dancer."

He nodded at the alcove to his immediate left where an Asari was dancing for a couple of Turians.

"Q'ola?" She looked back at him. "What about her?"

"Look how she's dancing: eyes closed, back arched, her head up and away from the two Turians." He finished. “Pretty sexy.”

"What's your point Kaine?" He could tell she was irritated now.

"She acts like a Maiden," he replied looking at her. "That is the dance of a woman out exploring the galaxy and enjoying the sensations of the moment as they affect her. She's not dancing for them," he looked at the group then back at Siru. "Oh they think she is, but she's not. It’s a purely selfish experience that those two are paying to watch. It’s not about them, it's all about how she feels right now, at this moment."

Kaine then lit a new cigarette and took a long drag, letting what he said sink in. Siru watched Q'ola for a moment or two longer. When she turned back to look at him he continued. "You on the other hand," he spoke evenly. "You're past that restless need to explore and experience. You're not here to dance, but to interact with your patrons. You want to enjoy the experience like she does. But it’s more important," he paused, absently tapping the table with his forefinger, "or equally so that the person you're with enjoy it too. It's a shared moment in time. That's how a Matron acts."

Siru K'vaar was genuinely shocked. She had seen a lot of things in her four-hundred plus years of living in this galaxy. She'd visited dozens of worlds, met thousands of new people and even helped start a colony on an uncharted world. But she honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd been so totally taken aback.

This was not what she had been expecting. Not what she thought would transpire when this human showed up at Chora's Den. When he first hired her for consul Siru thought he'd only be interested in some inter-species liaison, a torrid night he could brag about to his friends. That's usually what happened with other males and even some females, regardless of species.

She watched the human sitting across from her as he smoked. She'd only met a dozen of his people since they were granted embassy on the Citadel. Being that most were politicians or soldiers, they were cordial and professional when on duty. But that was away from the Den. Here they were like anyone else: loud and obnoxious but with a vast wealth of confidence for such a young species.

Kaine was all those things at times, but he was also something more. She'd been around too long to miss how he had evaded some questions. He was hiding things from her. She had been a consort long enough to pick up on the evasiveness of people.

So Kaine was secretive at times, which wasn't completely unreasonable.

He was also incredibly irritating at other times. She reminded herself of his penchant for air quotes and smoking to avoid making him seem like, what did humans call it? A knight in shining armor?

He was definitely not that.

Though he was hardly the usual clientele she attracted either. His extranet viewings of Asari were proof. There were plenty of vids to watch and documents to read out there. Different species enjoyed playing up the image of the promiscuous maiden: going from starport to starport, having sexual encounters with anyone willing. And she made no claims that Kaine didn't view those, but he had also learned other things about her people.

Their discussion of Athame wasn't his first on the subject. Nor others such as the preclusion of Asari towards biotics or how long it took an Asari to graduate from college; what made Asari art so much more fluid than other species, or any of a dozen other such things that the average patron of Chora's Den neither had an inkling of nor an interest in discussing.

The thing Kaine enjoyed the most she found, was what made Asari and humans alike. Things each race shared. His conversation today was typical: he'd find something innocuous about her culture and then shadow it with something similar from his. It was quite humorous at times. He was rather good at pointing out how comical both their peoples could be.

She enjoyed those conversations as well - more so than she let on. The idea that Asari were some sort of divine influence over the galaxy annoyed her. Her people were far from perfect or angelic. And she could count on Kaine to remind her that her people could be just as foolish and absurd as anyone else.

But he was right, she was looking for something. For someone. She wanted to find someone worth being with, someone with whom she felt a true connection. Siru had always preferred the type of people that frequented a place like Chora's Den more than those on the Presidium or other similar areas of the Citadel. Those areas and businesses where the more 'respectable' people of the galaxy could be found.

The people who lived in the white palaces and gleaming avenues of nicer parts of the galaxy led lives of ease. But life wasn't easy, it was brutal and harsh. And sometimes if you live away from that long enough, you forget it. It makes you cold, turns your life into a lie. The low times make the high times feel so much better.

Of course most of the patrons at the Den classified as lowlifes: mercenaries, gamblers, thieves. The types more civil people wanted to avoid. Those weren't who she was interested in either. She actually disliked their type immensely. Previous interactions spoiled her to the risk and thrill they could cause. She didn't care to spend much personal time with that sort.

Those types came here to hide. No one asked questions at the Den. Your business was your own. She could respect that. However, there were times when she'd encounter a client that was different, someone that came here not to hide, or to ogle the dancers, or pick fights, a person with a reason all their own to be there; a reason that the more respectful types wouldn't understand.

They were the middle ground, the sort that understood what life was really like, and how hard life could be but didn't descend into crime and violence. They came here to be left alone and to enjoy themselves.

That was Kaine she realized: a C-Sec Officer that got away from the more affluent parts of the Citadel to be with real people. To be with her. The idea made her smile but brought another idea to her mind.

"What are we doing here?” she asked herself out loud after a moment. Kaine cocked his head slightly. "This," she said waving a hand to encompass both of them and their table, "what is this? I always see you here at the Den. Always right here, nowhere else."

"I'd like to change that." Kaine replied. "You know the block party held on Zakera Ward every year? Huge crowds, good times, live music and all that?”

"Sure," she said rather perplexed by the sudden change in conversation. "It’s tomorrow night isn't it? I haven't been in ages. I remember it gets pretty wild at times," she paused. "Didn't someone steal a C-Sec patrol car and crash it into the Council's meeting chamber last year?"

"Yeah," he replied with a smile remembering his antics, "we got a little crazy."

"That was you?" she said in a half-yell, eyes wide with disbelief.

"In my defense I think I was drugged," he said conspiratorially. "I have to watch out for all those young ladies in Zakera Ward, always trying to take advantage of me."

She openly laughed at him again, a quick burst that faded as quickly as it came. She folded her hands in her lap and looked his way. He could still see the vestiges of a smile on her lips.

"I'd like you to go," he said. Then added, "with me."

Kaine watched as she looked down at her hands, mulling over the offer. She didn't say anything for what felt like ages. He was about to add something when their table was almost knocked completely over.

Kaine slid his chair to the side and caught everything before it could make a tremendous mess. Setting the table straight he and Siru looked up to find a Quarian standing before them fidgeting.

"Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't really watching where I was walking," he said.

Kaine raised an eyebrow and looked at Siru as she was turning to look at him, equally as confused. There was no possible way to accidentally walk into their table as it was situated off the main travel path of the bar.

"That's okay," Siru said standing, "we were just finishing up."

Kaine stood up quickly with her and reached into his pocket, knowing she wouldn't ask for the payment she had earned. He took her hand in his and placed the credit chit in her upturned palm.

"Good day Siru," he said as he closed and turned her hand over in his. "As always, conversations with you are worth any price."

She smiled at him and placed the chit in a small satchel she kept on her belt and began to leave. She turned after a few steps and said "How about eight?"

"Eight?" he replied.

"Pick me up for the party. Block D, Apartment 2451." She to him smiled and the Quarian then walked away not waiting for a response.

Kaine watched her go, watched as she waved to some of the patrons and other staff, deftly sidestepped a Turian making a quick exit. As she exited he noticed she looked back at him for a moment and then was gone. Kaine stood at his table with a smile on his face, took a deep satisfied breathe, and reached for his cigarettes and lighter, preparing to leave.

That's when he noticed the Quarian was standing there, still looking at him. Kaine blinked twice then furrowed his brow; he looked from side to side before fully facing the stranger on the other side of the table.

"Can I help you with something?" Kaine asked.

"Actually yes," the Quarian said, sounding almost relieved somehow. "I was hoping you could be my body guard."