UPDATES: I'm going to try my hardest to keep to my earlier promise of updating on Wednesday/Thursday but I can't guarantee that I will be able to do so. If I miss an update, I will update my profile to explain why. I do update it quite frequently. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

SPOILERS: This story contains a spoiler alert for Mass Effect.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story, aside from a few characters I created but as their creation depended on the universe of Mass Effect, I cannot take full credit. Otherwise it belongs to the awesome BioWare. On a similar note, much of my information is also taken from the Mass Effect Wiki.

Chapter 1

The music – could it even be called music? - of Chora's Den wasn't usually her type of music but the…establishment was one of the few places where she could get work. Ever since Fist had been killed by a Krogan mercenary hired by the Shadow Broker a few weeks back, people were more willing to outsource their smuggling needs to someone else and were eager to use freelancers, especially those that could get the job done. It wasn't like anyone was going to intimidate them or insist on taking a piece of the action anymore. Chora's Den lacked the security of Flux and few C-Sec officers ever went there. The ones that did usually wanted to keep a low profile or were too drunk to care what was going on around them.

The young woman sighed and scanned the room. The place wasn't full but it wasn't exactly empty either. There was a sleazy human C-Sec officer that kept looking her way between his bottles of beer, likely trying to come up with some sort of pickup line - as if he had a shot with her; a bachelor's party in the far corner that got louder with every round of alcohol and a few other loners that had come to drown their sorrows in some or other form of alcohol or distract themselves by watching the half-naked women… do whatever it was they were doing. It was her honest opinion that shaking their asses in public could not be called 'dancing'.

This was always the worst part of the job: the waiting. The waiting for a new client to show up; the waiting for the port authorities to search her ship and find nothing; the waiting for the perfect opening to sneak past unnoticed…She blew her red fringe out of her green eyes in an impatient gesture and leant back in her chair, placing her feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. If the waiting was going to continue, she may as well be comfortable. There was a small glass of whiskey on the rocks on the table which she lifted and took a small sip. It was the top shelf stuff that couldn't be wasted by downing it in a single gulp.

The ice blocks clinked against each other as she replaced it on the table's surface, sounding better to her ears than the too loud music that did nothing to drown out the sounds of the drunks cheering at the dancers. A young human man entered Chora's Den just then. Normally, she wouldn't have paid him any attention until he glanced briefly at the rather annoying dancers (or so she thought) and then his eyes landed on her table. The young woman didn't even look up as he took the seat opposite her, content to stare at her glass and watch the ice melt. It was far more interesting to watch than the…entertainment.

"You're late," she commented nonchalantly.

Then her green eyes flicked up and took in the young man's restless demeanour. She glanced towards another table nearby where one of the loners shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to look like he was disinterested in their business but he was close enough to eavesdrop. Something strange was going on.

"Are you…Ghost?" her new companion leant forward and asked in a whisper, afraid to be overheard by anyone.

Ghost adopted an ignorant tone, choosing to test this newbie. "Do I look like I'm dead?"

"Not a ghost," the man hissed irritably. "The Ghost."

Ghost glanced to the side and noticed the table was now empty. It certainly was suspicious or perhaps it was merely happenstance.

"I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else," Ghost said casually and took another sip from her glass.

The man regarded her coldly and leant back in his chair. "You really expect me to believe that you just happened to be sitting at the exact table at the exact time I was supposed to be meeting Ghost?"

"It must be a coincidence," she answered with an innocent shrug and lifted her glass to indicate it was the sole reason for her being here. "I just came here to get a drink."

"At a gentlemen's club?"

Ghost scoffed. "I don't see any gentlemen here."

The young man decided to change tactics. "That's such a shame. The people I represent were offering quite a large payment for such an easy delivery."

Despite her better judgement, Ghost was intrigued. Since the Geth had attacked Eden Prime, everyone who could handle a gun was on guard, prepared for an invasion by the synthetics. Alliance patrols had increased around all human colonies and the Citadel races had also increased security around their own colonies, even though "officially" Eden Prime was an isolated incident. Ghost wasn't interested in the politics of it all but it just made her job much harder. An easy job would certainly make a nice change. The credits wouldn't hurt either. She picked up her glass and swirled the amber liquid thoughtfully. All of her instincts were screaming "TRAP!" and yet, her curiosity was piqued.

"An easy delivery, huh?"

"Well, it would be for Ghost." The young man realised he had her on the hook and his restlessness had pretty much disappeared. Now he was the picture of calm and perhaps there was some arrogance too.

"Hypothetically, if I was Ghost, what would the delivery require?" she asked carefully, choosing her words so she wouldn't implicate herself. There were far too many people who were after her to take a chance.

The man was definitely annoyed by her glibness. "I don't deal in hypotheticals."

He was trying to push too hard to get her to admit her identity. Her usual clientele that required their merchandise to be moved discreetly tried their hardest to avoid confirming identities – hers and theirs. This man clearly thought it was the final push he needed but it was the final piece of the puzzle for Ghost: his restless demeanour, the supposedly easy job, the attempt at trying to confirm her identity. Instead, she downed the last of her whiskey – no need for perfectly good alcohol to go to waste – and returned her feet to the floor. Her obvious desire to leave did not go unnoticed by the man and he must have assumed she was getting ready to accept the job.

"I see," she replied evenly. "Then I'm afraid we have nothing further to discuss."

The man was surprised. This conversation did not go in the direction he imagined. Ghost got to her feet and made it as far as the door before she was surrounded by a group of C-Sec officers, most of them dressed in their street clothes as an attempt to blend in with the crowd. In an act of surrender, she raised her hands until they were at shoulder height with her palms facing forward and regarded the approaching Turian with a smirk. It wasn't often that C-Sec was one step ahead of her but this was a decent attempt, if only a more experienced undercover had been assigned to the job. This must have been organised in a hurry. C-Sec didn't have enough to charge her. She knew it and, more importantly, they knew it.

"Executor Pallin, it's always such a pleasure," she greeted with obvious sarcasm.

The Executor folded his arms across his chest, unimpressed. "I believe you forgot to pay for your drink, Ghost."

She shrugged, her smirk getting wider. "I just assumed someone would pay for it. It was recently pointed out to me that this is a gentleman's club so I assumed someone would do the gentlemanly thing and buy a girl a drink."

Executor Pallin was unconvinced. "You are under arrest for various counts of smuggling and you will be taken into C-Sec custody. All weapons will be confiscated and your ship will be impounded. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

One officer - the delightful young man she had just been talking with - walked up behind her and roughly handcuffed her hands behind her back. Perhaps he was frustrated that he couldn't get a confession out of her. She guessed she had more experience than he did. Another officer relieved her of her Karpov X pistol from her left holster and a combat knife that was strapped to her right thigh. She continued to smirk as Executor Pallin grabbed her right elbow and forced her to walk, escorted by three other officers, to the C-Sec offices for processing. This was not how she imagined her day going yet there was still some potential. It would be interesting to see if C-Sec had adopted any new tactics for dealing with smart mouthed criminals. She highly doubted it.

Commander Jo Shepard was walking through the Presidium, deep in thought. She had just met another survivor from the raid of Mindoir…although 'survivor' might not have been the appropriate term. Talitha, a young woman, was emotionally and psychologically scarred from her experience with the Batarian slavers. Talitha was in such bad shape, she was attempting to take her own life. Shepard had managed to get close enough to get her to voluntarily take a sedative so Lieutenant Girard could get her some help. It was unsettling to see what Shepard could have become. She had thought she had closed that chapter of her life – the pain, the horror, the grief – when she enlisted with the Alliance and had never looked back. Until now. It could have been her, standing on the docking bay, under different circumstances. She couldn't think like that, not now. She needed to focus on the present.

Although any assignments that Shepard needed to complete on Citadel Station had been completed hours ago, it was still necessary to hang around to buy some new gear, especially for Liara, their newest crew member. Shepard and Liara were also accompanied by their young quarian crew member, Tali'Zorah. Apparently, during their previous visit to Citadel Station, Tali was too busy getting shot at and trying to get into contact with the Shadow Broker to really appreciate the touristy grandeur of Citadel Station. The rest of the crew of the Normandy had also been given permission to go ashore while Shepard dealt with "important Spectre business" – basically, getting shiny new gear for the crew members, mainly the ground crew, and making sure everyone would be fit to fight, just in case – and there was still at least two hours before everyone was ordered to return. May as well put that time to good use.

Shepard, Liara and Tali stopped at an Emporium that was run by a Hanar merchant. It was probably going to be a long wait while Liara tried to find some new armour that she liked. This was their third shop after all, and Liara had yet to find something that she approved of. Shepard thankfully took an empty seat nearby and watched as Tali tried to help Liara find armour that was stylish as well as functional. It was amusing during the first two stops but now it was wearing thin. It was clear that Liara had a very specific set of tastes and she would settle for nothing less. Her unwavering fascination with the extinction of the Protheans was evidence of that, even though she now knew that they were wiped out by the Reapers. However, the fact that both Tali and Liara treated armour as fashion was not a good sign. They must not see a lot of combat then.

Once Liara had found something she liked, eventually, and Shepard had paid for it, they started the long walk back to the Normandy. Shepard wanted to spend some time trying to figure out what it was that Saren was planning and to find some more information about Feros. From what she had learnt, there was nothing there that would attract the Geth or Saren and yet, they had attacked the small human colony of Zhu's Hope. Captain Anderson had warned Shepard multiple times that Saren hated humanity and would do anything to halt its progress but Zhu's Hope was hardly a tactical target and it held little meaning to humanity's colonisation efforts, unlike Eden Prime. So why would Saren send his Geth to attack it? It just didn't add up. They were missing something and no one was in a hurry to share.

They made their way to the C-Sec Academy and went to wait for the elevator that would take them to the docks. The trip to Citadel Station was an overall success. They had successfully helped the investigative reporter, Emily Wong, to gather information for her new story about overworked traffic controllers; the Normandy had passed a snap inspection by a disgruntled Alliance Admiral who disapproved of the non-Alliance crew members; Shepard had learnt which colours were in season from a rather chatty shop assistant at their first stop and Liara now had gear that would last for a few fire fights. The only downside of this trip was getting cornered by the reporter, Khalisah Al-Jilani. Shepard had answered her questions to the best of her ability. Still, she was nervous about hearing back from the Alliance brass.

The elevator dinged to signal its arrival and the doors slid open. However, just before Shepard, Liara and Tali could get into it, a C-Sec officer rushed over.

"Commander Shepard?" he asked, breathless.

Shepard turned to face the man in confusion. "Yes?"

"Executor Pallin needs to talk to you urgently," the officer answered. "He also asks that you come alone."

It was definitely an odd request but Shepard supposed that came with being a Spectre – odd requests with little information. She nodded to Liara and Tali to let them know that they should return to the Normandy without her. The Asari and the quarian did not argue as they walked into the elevator. As the doors slid closed, they started chatting about the latest in armour developments and how Prothean technology was responsible for most of the recent upgrades. Suddenly, Shepard was quite relieved to not be a part of that conversation and followed the C-Sec officer down a few corridors until they came to a stop near a single door.

Executor Pallin was standing there, waiting, and he was also holding a datapad. It looked like he was frowning, or so Shepard assumed, when he turned to address the Commander. Normally, she wasn't good at reading Turian expressions but since Garrus had joined them, she was slowly getting better at it.

"Commander Shepard, thank you for coming," Executor Pallin greeted.

It wasn't like she had a choice but she kept that thought to herself. "What can I do for you, Executor?"

"Are you aware of a smuggler that goes by the name of Ghost?" he asked cryptically.

Shepard was puzzled. "I've heard rumours of an elusive smuggler that even the Alliance is having trouble catching. That's about it, though."

"Ghost is an extremely effective smuggler who doesn't seem to operate in any one place. She's taken jobs from basically anyone who can pay and is believed to have smuggled large amounts of weapons, explosives, technology, and stolen merchandise for various persons and has also helped certain people evade the law. She is almost impossible to track and it's also hard to make any charges stick because she does a good job of cleaning up afterwards. Somehow, she also learns of any moves we try to make against her and is able to disappear before we've even got a warrant," Executor Pallin explained, his voice gruff with irritation.

Shepard was still confused and wasn't quite following, barely even noticing the use of 'she'. "So…are you asking me to try to track her down?"

The Turian shook his head. "No, Commander. We received a tip that she was on Citadel Station looking for work. We were able to set up a quick undercover job with only a few people clued in on the operation so she wouldn't know what was going on. Our operation was successful and we now have Ghost in custody. She hasn't admitted to anything and we have little evidence to hold her on for the smuggling however the ship she arrived in was reported stolen so we're holding her on that charge. When we processed her, we got no hits with facial recognition and we got nothing with her fingerprints either so we ran her DNA in an attempt to get an identity or a connection to other crimes."

"What does this have to do with me?" Shepard asked, still bewildered.

"While her DNA didn't provide us with an identity, we did get a partial match." The Executor paused, hoping that Shepard had understood what he just told her. When she continued to look at him blankly, he added "To you, Commander Shepard. A familial match."

Shepard was silent for a moment as she considered this new information. Was it even possible? She decided she didn't want to jump to conclusions and she wanted a straight answer. "What are you saying, Executor?"

"After we got the initial partial match, we ran it again just to make sure it wasn't a mistake. Once we got the same results, we did a bit of digging just to be sure. I believe we have your sister in custody, Commander," Executor Pallin clarified.

The Commander was having a hard time accepting it. Executor Pallin was unsurprised by this and redirected his attention to the datapad he was still holding. He tapped it a few times and then passed it to Shepard. The datapad was displaying a single picture of a woman with a slight frame and the build of a gymnast. Her straight red hair was long and was tied back into a pony with her fringe hanging out, just long enough to dangle in front of her bright green eyes, which were further accentuated with black eyeliner. Her red lips were turned upwards in the form of a mocking smirk. She was wearing dark blue pants with knee high black leather boots along with a dark blue tank top and a black leather jacket. A belt, which also doubled as her holsters, completed the outfit.

There was something familiar about this woman: the red hair, the mischievous glint of her green eyes and the way she was looking at the world as though everything was a joke.

"It's been a long time since I last saw her but it looks like Sydney," Shepard confirmed quietly, still reeling from the possibility that her sister might be alive. "What else do you know about her?"

"Not much. There were no personal effects on the ship and her gear that we confiscated was minimal. All terminals on the ship were also wiped clean, almost as if she was preparing to sell it. There was a gun, two knives, a small pack of tools, various odds and ends and her omni-tool that no one has been able to hack into," Executor Pallin explained.

"But why tell me?" Shepard asked.

"She is your sister. We needed to notify someone that we have her in custody, as per C-Sec protocol. You are her only living relative and next of kin. And, as a Spectre, it is also a courtesy."

That was a reasonable explanation. "Can I talk to her?"

Executor Pallin nodded. "Of course, Commander. She waived her right to counsel and, as you are a Spectre, I cannot decline your request. However, there is something else you may want to consider."

The interrogation room was, in a word, boring. The walls were dark grey and the floor wasn't much different, perhaps a shade lighter. There was a fluorescent light hanging on the ceiling and it bathed the room in bright white light, reminiscent of a hospital. There was an iron table in the centre of the room with a single chair placed on either side. Sydney was in the chair facing the only door, the chair opposite her was empty. Her attention was focused on the metallic bracelets that connected her right wrist to the right armrest of the chair. An escape plan was slowly forming in her mind, if only there was a way to get out of the handcuffs. Of course, assuming she could get out of them, she would still need to find a ship and some way to get her omni-tool back. But first things first…

A thought suddenly occurred to her. It had been a while since someone had come into the interrogation room to check on her or try to get her to admit that she was Ghost. It was rather odd…unless C-Sec was planning something. The question then became: what? The clichéd and overdone "Good cop, bad cop" routine? The seldom used and rarely successful "Bad cop, bad cop"? Maybe they were going to fabricate a witness to convince her to confess. No real witnesses existed mainly because the people that did know she was Ghost were either dead, clients or they owed her one and therefore would not implicate her without implicating themselves. Or maybe they were just letting her stew in her paranoia. That one was always fun. It was likely that they were on their lunch break. C-Sec officers sure loved their lunch breaks.

Well, as long as she had some free time and chances were pretty slim that someone would try to kill her while in custody, she may as well get some shut eye. She placed her forehead on the cool surface of the table and closed her eyes. Apparently, that was the exact moment that C-Sec decided to interrupt her. Heavy footfalls echoed in the room as her guest walked over and sat in the chair opposite her. Sydney sat up in her chair and looked at the woman opposite. It was confusing and surprising considering this woman was definitely not C-Sec. She was wearing heavy black armour with "N7" in white lettering (Sydney had to wrack her brain to remember what it stood for). Her build was soldier-esque, basically there was muscle built in all the right places while allowing her to maintain her feminine figure. Her black hair was tied back in an Alliance regulation bun while her green eyes were piercing with a subtle disappointment… Something clicked in Sydney's mind as to why the look was so familiar.

"What's a shiny Spectre like yourself doing in an interrogation room like this?" Sydney asked in a serious tone and gestured vaguely around the room with her free hand.

Jo raised an eyebrow in question. Sydney shrugged and leant back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest – well, as close as she could get, anyway. The look was obviously a question: how had she recognised Jo almost immediately after thirteen years?

"You're giving me the same look I used to get from Mom all the time. And the entire galaxy knows you're the first human Spectre, even though some aren't in a hurry to believe it," she answered the unasked question.

"And you get up to date news while you're smuggling, Sydney?" Jo asked disapprovingly.

The question was ignored entirely. "I prefer Sid."

"That's strange, I thought you prefer Ghost," Jo accused.

Sid sighed dramatically. "Everyone seems to think that but I have no idea why." It was unconvincing.

"How do you explain the ship then? It is the perfect size for a smuggling vessel and even has some modifications that aren't strictly legal. Exactly what you would expect from a smuggler."

"I borrowed it."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "Executor Pallin said it was reported stolen."

"Did you really come into my interrogation room to argue over semantics?" Sid challenged. "Perhaps the person I borrowed it from was the smuggler. I had no idea about the modifications."

"Are you or are you not the smuggler known as Ghost?" Jo asked irritably.

Sid regarded her sister. "I don't understand you, Jo. You finally take an interest in me and you want me to confess to being a wanted smuggler while in C-Sec custody and Spectre or no, they are recording this conversation. The family reunion I pictured involved much more alcohol." She paused. "And there were no handcuffs involved."

"And here I thought you might have gained the ability to take things seriously and that you would take responsibility for your actions."

Sid sighed again. "I don't need you to tell me things are serious, Jo." She shook her right hand to emphasize her metallic bracelets. "I'm not wearing these because they're stylish. I'm handcuffed to the furniture. The furniture, Jo. They don't do that unless it's serious…or unless they think the handcuffs bring out your eyes but I doubt that's the case."

Jo rolled her eyes at Sid's nonsense. "Well, if you were Ghost, I would have a job for you."

Sid was starting to experience déjà vu. "Does Executor Pallin give you a script to read from or something?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

Jo and Sid sat in silence as they were at a stalemate. Neither would give in without the other giving something up. If Sid admitted that she was in fact Ghost then she would face some serious jail time whereas Jo was just being stubborn. Sid's earlier comment was eating at Jo's conscience. It was true that she never spent a moment trying to find her sister so perhaps this was her fault. She had just lectured Sid on taking responsibility for her actions and it wasn't as though her mission was top secret. Maybe the mission would be a good influence on the obviously troubled little Shepard. Everyone on the crew, except for Wrex, had a firm belief between right and wrong.

"All right, Sid. I am on an important mission to bring down the rogue Spectre known as Saren."

Sid was caught off guard by Jo's sudden honesty and dropping of all pretences. All she could do was listen with a vaguely confused expression on her face. "Wasn't he the Council's best and brightest?"

"Yes which is why I need all the help I can get, even from a comedian like you."

"I'm going to ignore that last comment," Sid replied, offended. "And what exactly do you think I can bring to the table, hypothetically speaking?"

"I figure that spending time in the Terminus Systems does lend you some skill in battle," Jo pointed out.

Once again Sid was offended. "I am strictly non-violent."

"Then why do you carry a gun and…knives?" Jo countered, obviously confused by the unconventional weapon.

"Self-defence," Sid answered in a tone that made it sound so obvious yet believable at the same time.

It was Jo's turn to be puzzled by her sister. "I'm giving you a way out and I'm convincing you to come with me? Shouldn't you be convincing me to bring you with?"

"Not if you need my help," Sid countered and then she took a moment to regard her sister. "Why did you come here, Jo? To ease your conscience?"

Jo sighed in frustration. Sid always knew how to make things difficult. The smuggler in front of her was definitely acting in the interest of self-preservation. And yet, Jo needed Sid, not for her fighting abilities, but for her knowledge of moving around undetected – in case Saren used similar channels – as well as any contacts she might have that would have some idea of what Saren was looking for on Feros or perhaps where he was planning on going next. It was Executor Pallin's suggestion, as they both knew – despite Sid's denial and their lack of proof – that Sid was Ghost and she could help…if they could convince her to do so.

"You're right, I do need your help and not necessarily for your fighting abilities, or lack thereof."

Sid stared at Jo quizzically. "And if I agreed to help you, what would I get out of it?"

"C-Sec will drop all charges against you. Executor Pallin already agreed to it."

Sid sighed. It was probably going to be the best offer she would get for something like this, especially considering how badly C-Sec wanted to arrest her. A clean record – as she had yet to be arrested on anything - would certainly make future endeavours much easier. The deal was perfectly balanced; they would each get something important out of it so a betrayal was unlikely. If Jo did decide to betray Sid, there would be time to plan an escape, especially if they were traveling to other planets and as it was Spectre business, C-Sec wouldn't be privy to their plans. Even though Jo was her sister, Sid couldn't relax or let her guard down. The worst betrayals were always the ones she didn't see coming so she couldn't afford to take the risk. Too much time had passed and they had both changed a lot since they last saw each other for Sid to trust Jo.

"Very well, Jo, I agree to the deal," she decided. "But I am going to need my gear that the Executor confiscated from me. Especially my omni-tool."

Jo got to her feet and knocked on the door twice. "Agreed."

Executor Pallin opened the door from the other side and nodded once to Jo. Then he focused on Sid. "You understand that, if at any point, you try to run before Commander Shepard's mission is completed, you will become a fugitive?"

"I understand."

The Turian then looked back at Jo. "Commander Shepard, I hereby place Sydney Shepard in your custody. Until the completion of your mission and your return to Citadel space, you will be held responsible for any crimes that Sydney Shepard commits while on-board the Normandy and while she remains an active member of your crew. Do you accept these terms?"

"I do," Jo answered.

Sid could never have guessed that two simple words could sound so ominous. Jo exited the room while the Executor unlocked the handcuffs and removed them. Sid rubbed her wrist and followed the Turian out of the room. He nodded once to a nearby C-Sec officer who then handed Sid a backpack and a disapproving glare to go along with it. She looked inside and found that all of her gear had been returned to her. It was weird to be without her omni-tool – she almost felt naked – so she took it out and secured it to her wrist. It probably wasn't a good idea to reach for her gun just yet so she ignored it. She looked up at Jo who then led the way back to the Normandy. This outcome certainly had not been expected. Sid wasn't under the illusion that she was free. The SSV Normandy was still a prison and Commander Shepard its warden. At least there weren't any handcuffs involved…for the time being, at least.