Today’s fanfic prompt was either Cannon or AU, and I’ve gone totally AU. 

My biggest HC is that Reyes learned all his Charlatan tricks as Aria T’Loak’s protégé, then eventually escaped her by joining the Andromeda Initiative. This is a short story of what might have happened if Reyes had stayed on Omega as Aria’s number-one man instead of joining the Initiative. Some of it is adapted from my original Aria T’Loak/Reyes Vidal story.

Fair warning: I LOVE Reyes and I LOVE Garrus but in this story they go head-to-head. Oh dear oh dear oh dear what have I done…

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2183 C. E.: Omega Station, The Milky Way

BLAM. A third and final shot rang out, and the merc towering over Reyes crumpled, bits of skull and blood sprinkling over the docks as he fell. Jesus, that was a close one, Reyes thought with relief as he stood shakily, but he wasn’t in the clear yet.

Being followed and jumped by three armed mercs on a deserted dock on Omega was not Reyes’ idea of a good evening. He probably could have handled the mercs by himself, though it would have been a close shave with them all being armed; but the person who had ‘saved’ him – clearly a sniper, from the precision of the shots and the fact that the shooter had not yet revealed themselves – introduced a new, totally unknown element of danger.

 There. At the upper level ringing the docks, Reyes caught a hint of movement. A figure stood – a male turian, from the distinctive crest. He slung a Black Widow sniper rifle smoothly over his back, then made his way towards the stairs that led down to the docks level as he spoke. “Walking around Omega’s deserted docks at this hour is a good way to get yourself killed.”

Despite the turian’s blunt words, his polyphonic voice sounded kinder than the average turian’s… and unusually kind for Omega. He’s not a local either, Reyes thought. He slapped on a dorky, naive smile and replied, “Yeah, I’ve only been here a couple months – still don’t know where I’m going half the time. Don’t know how to thank you – I’d be dead if you hadn’t stepped in.”

 The turian drew near, and Reyes examined his saviour curiously. The turian sniper sported blue clan paint over his malar carapace, and a distinctive, minimalist visor over his left eye – probably helps with aiming, Reyes thought with interest. The turian looked him over suspiciously and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Reyes shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. Really. That happened so fast.”

 The turian continued to study him, a frankly mistrustful look on his face. “I’ve seen you with Aria T’Loak’s people. You’re falling into a bad crowd there. Maybe I should take you out as well.”

Fuck. Me, Reyes thought with a surge of anxiety. Time for some smooth talking. “I’m with the Alliance. I came here on a mission, but everything went wrong. Aria kept me as a prisoner and now I’m working for her… I didn’t know what else to do.”

 The turian sniper eyed him with open suspicion, then gave a small nod. “Get off this station if you know what’s good for you,” the turian said sternly. He stared intently at Reyes, and there was a gleam of hardness in his eyes. “If I catch you involved in any criminal activity, I won’t be so lenient next time. Go.”

 Reyes nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I’ll try and get out of here. Thanks again, I really…” But his turian saviour was already walking away purposefully. As the turian disappeared into the shadows, Reyes swallowed, then remembered that Anto, Aria’s second-in-command, must be waiting somewhere on the docks for him. He called Anto on his omni-tool.

 Anto answered almost immediately. “What the fuck was that?” he hissed. “I hid when I heard the shots. How the fuck did you get out of that alive?”

 “Some fancy talking,” Reyes replied, as relief began to finally wash over him, making him feel giddy. “Fanciest fucking talking of my life. Who even was that guy?”

 Anto grunted. “We’ve been getting reports about that guy. You’re lucky you’re not dead, Vidal. You just talked your way out of being sniped by Archangel.”

 ********************

 Garrus Vakarian melted into the shadows, the Black Widow on his back a comforting weight that reminded him of his purpose. Before she had died, Shepard had jokingly used the phrase ‘taking out the trash’ in reference to criminals getting what was coming to them. With a pang of grief, he thought of how she would have made some kind of joke about him being a garbage-man if she could have seen him now.

 Three criminals down for the count in one night, Garrus thought to himself with grim satisfaction as he slipped through Omega’s alleys and corridors to his shitty studio apartment. That human that they’d been targeting, though… Garrus would have to keep an eye on that one. Maybe he was just an innocent, caught up in Aria’s criminal dealings… But innocence and good intentions could be sullied by greed and corruption in a heartbeat. Garrus had seen it too many times to really have faith in anyone anymore. Especially on Omega.

 He stepped into his apartment and engaged the omni-lock, then fastidiously cleaned his Black Widow before racking it carefully on the wall. He was just preparing a light meal when his omni-tool pinged: Lantar Sidonis had arrived. Garrus swiped his omni-tool to let his compatriot in.

 Sidonis stepped in and the two turians nodded to each other sharply, then Sidonis sat at Garrus’ spartan dining/kitchen table. “How did you fare today?” he asked. Garrus and Sidonis, friendly though they were, rarely bothered with small talk.

 Garrus handed him a glass of water, then joined him at the table with his food. “Took out three would-be murderers today. Eclipse lackeys; no loss. Gathered more info on that protection racket in the Blue Suns’ territory, too. It’s run by a batarian named Niall. But it might be a while before we can take it down. I managed to help out a couple of the families in the meantime.”

 Sidonis lowered his glass and gave Garrus a stern look.  “You’re going to go broke if you keep doing this, Vakarian. You have to stay alive on this station, too. That means having a few credits in your pocket, not giving them all away.”

 Garrus grunted. Sidonis wasn’t wrong; Garrus was dipping into his own savings to pay the families’ protection fees, and soon his credits were going to start dwindling dangerously. But Garrus didn’t see an alternative at this time. If I stop paying their fees, the parents will get murdered, then those kids will become orphans, then they’ll get picked up by the gangs… This is the only way to stop the cycle. Even if it’s temporary.

 SIdonis eyed his friend for a moment longer, then chuckled, his flanged voice warm. “I understand you, Vakarian. I do. Once we have a bigger team, we’ll be able to do more. Just hang in there.” Garrus sighed and nodded, his mandibles flaring in a slight smile. Finally, he took a bite of his dinner. “What’s the progress on the team?” he asked Sidonis. Sidonis had told him he’d found another disgruntled justice-seeker who was sick of red tape and might be willing to join their crusade.

 Sidonis nodded and brought up his omni-tool. “It’s looking good. I’ll send you the dossier. Here’s what I thought…”

 The two turians worked into the night, planning their various missions to sweep Omega clean of crime. Garrus savoured the joy of justice, the grim satisfaction of having a clear purpose. And if sometimes there was a wave of another emotion, something darker and more tragic, accompanied by the bittersweet memory of a certain N7 commander with short black hair and intense green eyes, Garrus shoved it aside.

 There was no time or place for grief or regret. Archangel had a purpose. He had to keep his mind, and his aim, sharp and focused.

 ******************

2184 C. E.: One year later…

 Reyes tapped the counter of the bar in Omega’s marketplace and held up two fingers – two fingers of Macallan – to the quarian bartender. The bartender nodded briskly and slid a tumbler across the bar to Reyes, who lifted the tumbler and sipped it leisurely. Today was a relatively relaxed workday; he’d helped Cassian out with a quick interrogation this morning, signed a couple of smuggling deals, and now he was doing some casual info-gathering in the market, listening out for anything interesting – or treasonous – that could be valuable. After all, as Aria always liked to remind him, information was power.

 Reyes was unobtrusively listening to the conversation of a couple of salarian businessmen when he felt someone sidle up beside him at the bar. He glanced to his left… and almost choked on the whiskey that was halfway down his throat as he recognized the person at his elbow.

Archangel. It had been something like a year since Reyes’ encounter with the turian vigilante. In that time, Reyes felt like he’d become a new man, stronger and harder with better survival instincts. Being Aria T’Loak’s number-one agent and fuck buddy could do that to a man. But Reyes had never quite been able to forget the night his ass was saved – and then almost killed – by the turian sniper with deadly accuracy.

 Archangel stared down at him intensely. Turian facial expressions were not Reyes’ forte, but the look in Archangel’s blue-grey eyes was unequivocally hard and unforgiving. “I told you to get off this station if you knew what was good for you,” Archangel said. The hint of kindness that Reyes remembered in his voice was gone. I’m not the only one who’s changed and hardened over the past year, Reyes thought, at the same time as a chill rippled down his back at the turian’s obvious hostility. Reyes mastered his trepidation and gave Archangel a charming smile.

 “Sorry, must have forgotten. How have you been? It’s been what, a year?” Reyes said smoothly, holding up a finger to the bartender and jerking his head at Archangel. The bartender immediately slid Archangel a shot of pale green liquor, but he ignored it, his attention fully on Reyes.

 “You’re one of Aria’s main thugs. Your little story about the Alliance was a lie.”

 The scorn in Archangel’s voice was like a whip, but Reyes ignored it. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was Aria’s prisoner a year ago, but he was starting to feel annoyed by the turian. Who the fuck did Archangel think he was? The ethics police? He wasn’t exactly innocent himself. After all, he’d shot three men in cold blood that night. Reyes was annoyed enough that he wanted to return the favour and annoy Archangel in kind. So he pouted mockingly. “That hurts my feelings. I like to think I’m more than just a thug. I’m a man of many talents. But you seem to know all about that already.” Reyes purposely looked away from Archangel, his facial expression bored as he sipped his whiskey.

 He almost jumped at the sound of the turian’s flanged voice close to his ear. “The only reason you aren’t dead right now is that I don’t want to start a public brawl in the middle of the afternoon.”

 Reyes felt a simmering rage at the turian’s holier-than-thou attitude. Quick as a flash, Reyes pulled a short knife from the sheath on his thigh and held it against Archangel’s abdomen… right in the space on the turian body that melted from carapace into more penetrable skin. Reyes stared up into the turian’s eyes, all pretense of joking charm replaced by a cold hardness that would have made Aria proud. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t have those kinds of qualms. So back the fuck off of me before I give the marketplace an in-depth lesson in turian anatomy.”

Reyes could feel Archangel’s stillness at the threat of the knife. The two men stared at each other, their eyes hard and furious… then Archangel took a small step back. Reyes quietly released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. When the turian spoke again, his voice was flat and ice cold. “You’re a dead man, Vidal. It’s just a matter of time. As soon as I catch you alone… you’re done.” Without another word, he strode away, blending seamlessly into the market’s multispecies crowd.

Reyes turned back to the bar and shot the rest of his drink in one gulp. The little altercation between himself and Archangel had gone unnoticed, but Reyes had to forcibly quell the slight tremble of his hands. Nowadays, death and dismemberment threats were a dime a dozen for Reyes Vidal, but somehow it was different coming from Archangel. That guy is dead serious, Reyes thought. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the turian during the year since they’d met. Archangel had been a vigilante, but his threat today had seemed more… personal.

 Reyes shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. He’s just some washed-up vigilante, Reyes told himself as he swiped a generous tip to the quarian bartender and headed back to Afterlife. And yet, Aria had thought he’d be dead within weeks to months… and here he was, a year later, still going strong.

 Maybe I’ll start taking more populated routes home, Reyes thought to himself. Just in case.

 *********************

 2185 C.E.: 8 months later…

 Reyes sat back in the shuttle, totally at ease in his light armour and heavy weaponry. Fucking Archangel is done, he thought smugly. That asshole has shot me for the last time. Over the past few months, Archangel had made two attempts on his life. The first time, he’d shot off a chunk of Reyes’ left ear, and the second time he’d grazed his shoulder. Reyes’ paranoia and environmental awareness, and sheer fucking luck, were literally the only things that had saved him.

 When Reyes had heard that the Blood Pack, Eclipse, and the Blue Suns were collaborating to take Archangel out, he had bought a bottle of whiskey for Anto and the boys to celebrate. And when he’d heard that the gangs were recruiting freelancers to join in the effort, he’d signed up immediately. Aria had given him one of her trademark you’re-a-fucking-idiot looks when he’d told her. “You’re going to die. Archangel’s already taken out dozens of mercs. It would be amusing if it wasn’t such a fucking waste.” She’d leaned back in her office chair, naked and post-coital, and eyed him skeptically. “You’re just going to be so much more rotting meat on the boulevard if you go.”

 Reyes had leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth, then left, his stride purposeful. “I’ll bring you back a piece of his carapace as a souvenir,” he called cockily over his shoulder. As the door closed behind him, he’d laughed at her response: “I’ll start interviewing replacements for your job.”

So now Reyes sat in the shuttle with a handful of other mercs, flying out to the rendezvous point. Across from him sat a striking woman in her early 30s wearing an impressive set of blood-red heavy armour, incongruously flanked by a pretty, wide-eyed asari and a gorgeous dark-haired human woman in a skintight black-and-white bodysuit. The armoured woman nodded briefly to him, her green eyes watchful and calm. “What brings you on this mission?” she asked him casually.

 Reyes smirked and pointed to his mutilated left ear. “Archangel took a piece of me. Figured it’s time I returned the favour.” He cocked his head to the side. “You?”

 The woman gave a faint smile. “Credits. I’m hoping for a big payout from this.”

 “Nice try,” Reyes drawled, his eyes sliding over her, from her short crop of black hair to the tips of her blood-red armoured toes. Her gear was high-end with hardly any signs of wear. “Your shit is brand new. What’s your angle?” Reyes’ tone was playful and flirtatious, but he was genuinely curious… and a touch suspicious. Wouldn’t hurt if he could gather some intel on this woman in case Aria wanted to keep an eye on her.

 The woman in red smiled, and her eyes sparkled playfully. “Aren’t you the curious one?” she remarked, the sound of her calm, throaty voice making Reyes smile. “Maybe I wanted to meet the interesting rabble who would sign up for a suicide mission.” She raised one eyebrow, and her dark-haired colleague gave a tiny cough that somehow managed to convey a lifetime’s worth of disapproval. Reyes laughed, reacting to both the woman’s banter and to her colleague’s displeasure. This woman in red was so self-possessed and confident. Reyes liked it.“You might think I’m rabble now, but I’m sure I’ll change your mind,” he purred, then impulsively he added, “Let me buy you a victory drink after this.”

 The woman exchanged a tiny, sardonic smile with her asari companion, who smiled back innocently. Then she turned back to face him. “A victory drink. It’s a plan,” she said, and there was a clear undertone of amusement in her voice. Reyes winked at her, amused when the brunette rolled her eyes. “I’m Reyes, by the way. Reyes Vidal,” he said, extending a hand to her.

 She took his hand with an impressively firm grip. “Adriana. Adriana Shepard.”

*******************

 Garrus slumped behind cover, taking a moment to catch his breath. He was exhausted. He was running out of ammo and genuinely wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out against the gangs’ onslaught. It was clever for them to recruit desperate mercs; throwing bodies at him was an extremely crude strategy (Garrus could hardly bear to call it a strategy at all), but unfortunately effective over time. He was starting to wear down.

 Another surge of rage towards Sidonis blew through him, and he took a measured breath to control his anger. If I get out of this alive, I will make it my life’s mission to hunt that traitor down, Garrus thought to himself. But first, he had to get out of this alive… and therein lay the problem.

 Another wave of mercs was advancing along the boulevard; Garrus could hear them coming. He using his scope, he peeked over his cover to get a look at what he was facing. A scattering of LOKIs, a handful of ragged batarians, a turian or two, a heavily armoured human… Wait. That garish red armour…. Garrus used his visor to zoom closer on the tiny emblem at the collar of the armed human’s breastplate.

 Wait. Is that…? No. It can’t be.

 The tiny emblem on her red armour: N7.

 Garrus experienced a rush of adrenaline so strong it was practically orgasmic. He only knew one person who wore that eye-watering shade of red armour. But he still couldn’t believe his eyes. Shepard’s dead. She’s dead. She can’t be here… How is that possible? Hope and pessimism warred in his chest as he watched the red-armoured figure more closely. Spirits, he thought in growing amazement. The way she moved, even the twitch of her head to the left then the right before she began to lope up the boulevard…

 It’s her. Shepard is alive.

 Garrus was galvanized. His energy and determination restored, he looked through his sights with fresh focus… and recognized another familiar human. Reyes Fucking Vidal. In his excitement at recognizing Shepard, Garrus had ignored the man she was running beside… the man who was unwisely not wearing a helmet. Reyes smiled and said something to Shepard and lightly hit her in the arm, and Garrus narrowed his eyes and the slimy, charming vorcha.

With renewed focus, Garrus loaded a round into his faithful Black Widow, focused his aim at Reyes’ dark-haired head, and smiled.

 This time, Archangel wouldn’t miss.

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Art credits: Garrus pic from http://torron.deviantart.com/art/Garrus-Vakarian-You-ll-Never-Be-Alone-369719464; Reyes pic from @life-is-no-sugarlicking!